Round 1 // Challenge 13 - ENTRIES
Shows: Stargate SG-1
Story Title: Worries for Another Day
Character/Relationships: Teal'c, Bra'tac
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Part of him felt that he should put a stop to it. There was still much to be done, decisions to be made. There were battles left to fight. They had merely created a vacuum and only heaven knew what would fill it. Countless evils waited in the vastness of the universe, and he feared that the Jaffa may have cast off their yoke merely to become enslaved by the next despots to come along. It had taken so long to win their freedom, and it could be lost again in the blink of an eye.
And yet, he hesitated. While the drinks were poured and the music played, he stood at the side of the camp. They would listen to him if he spoke up. If he silenced the celebration and demanded they seat a council immediately, they would agree. He was Bra'tac, the unwitting head of their rebellion. They looked at him as some sort of prophet, a title he shunned with all his being. He was just an old man, the last in a line who happened to survive to see the day they had fought so hard for. He was just a soldier.
Movement came toward him through the forest and he was primed for a fight as the steps came closer. Only when he recognized the sound of his student's footfalls did he relax. Teal'c took position at Bra'tac's right hand. When Bra'tac looked at Teal'c's face, he saw well-deserved pride. Teal'c was the one who deserved their accolades and their cheers. Teal'c was the one who had led them to this victory.
"Perhaps this is ill-advised."
Bra'tac smiled. Teal'c was definitely his student. "They have definitely earned it. The war may not be over, but the battle we never thought we would see has been won. They deserve one night."
Teal'c agreed by straightening his shoulders slightly and lifting his chin. "The Tau'ri have returned home. They did not feel they would be welcome in this celebration."
"They helped bring it about."
"That is what I said. However, General O'Neill was quite adamant that this was... our Woodstock."
Bra'tac sighed. He didn't know what was worse, that a man like O'Neill could become a leader of his people... or that he was one of the best leaders he'd ever seen. Bra'tac had trained no warriors like O'Neill. Perhaps that had been his error.
"Go to them, Teal'c. This is as much your celebration as it is theirs. You should enjoy yourself before you become burdened by the weight of what comes next."
Teal'c hesitated, but then nodded once. "Perhaps you are right."
"If you remember only one lesson of mine, may it be that one."
Teal'c bowed to his master before stepping into the clearing. He was greeted by cheers, immediately set upon by a group of young Jaffa men. Bra'tac watched, and a smile spread across his creased features.
Every man and woman in the crowd had fought valiantly, and the Goa'uld were on the run. The Jaffa were free for the first time in history. Put against all of that, one night of celebration hardly seemed enough.
Shows: Stargate SG-1
Story Title: High School Do-Over
Character/Relationships: Jonathan O’Neill (mini-Jack), “Grace” Carter (mini-Sam) Rating: PG
Warnings: Slightly AU
Jonathan O’Neill glanced up at the poster and rolled his eyes. What had he been thinking when he chose a “high school do-over”? Okay, at first, dating nubile young women with the wisdom of a man of the world (the universe, really) and the body of a teen had seemed like a good idea. However, Jon hadn’t taken into account the often vacuous mind of some modern girls. Jon found himself attracted to the teachers, not his fellow students - definitely problematic.
Having gained his full height, with his natural athletic ability having come to the fore in hockey and baseball, his situation had grown ridiculous. And never more so than as winter snow melted and prom season approached. If one more girl fluttered her eyelashes in hopes of an invitation…
And then *she* came along. He’d heard rumors all morning. The “new girl” took virtually all AP classes - math, biology, chemistry, physics…hmm. He wondered if SG-1 had somehow altered the time line or presumed upon Thor’s good grace to rescue him from this socially miserable existence. Not that O’Neill Senior had kept in touch, as agreed. But he knew the Air Force kept tabs on him and that O’Neill had received a promotion to General and later had transferred to Washington. Poor bastard.
Jon took science classes that he hadn’t bothered with before and did well, but he hadn’t achieved AP level, so he hadn’t crossed paths with her yet that day. At lunch, still in coats against cool temps, the students sat outside enjoying the unseasonable sunshine. A couple of his much-smarter, Ivy-League-bound buddies commiserated over their apparent failure to impress this spectacular new specimen of feminine charms. Finally, someone pointed her out to him across the quad, and he knew for sure. Carter.
She shared a table with a group of geeky science girls and only half listened to their conversation. He could tell even from this distance; three years removed and on a face not yet etched with the concerns of a world-saving Air Force Officer, he recognized the look of Carter’s mental gymnastics. Still contemplating the permutations - yeah, he had improved vocabulary - of some experiment she had left running while mentally reviewing her up-coming presentation and simultaneously listening for key elements of the lengthy diatribe of a certain verbose archaeologist/linguist - or in this case, geek girl.
Without a word to his companions, Jon rose, tossed the remains of his lunch except for one item and walked over to her table. Their eyes met as he stood behind Molly Green, the freckle-faced, pony-tailed chemistry nerd who had tutored him last year, who sat opposite her. He waited for Molly to stop talking - which took a Daniel minute - before he spoke.
“Hey, Molly.”
Molly tilted her head back and squinted against the sun shining behind him.
“Oh, hi, Jon. Here, you can have my seat,” she offered as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a jock to join their table. “I have to go see Mr. Woolley to requisition supplies for my senior project anyway. How’s Chem 2 going?” Molly had gathered her things and moved, and Jon had sat down before he answered.
“Fine, thanks.” He didn’t look at Molly, answering by rote. Eventually she left with a shrug he didn’t see - knew her so well, he didn’t need to see it to know it happened - because his gaze fixated on blue eyes. Tittering among the other geeks distracted him momentarily. “Girls,” he said by way of greeting with a quick glance. He remembered none of their names, though he recognized the redhead from his English class, the girl currently mooning over him. He winced, and Carter bit her lips to keep from smiling. He pulled his offering from the pocket of his letterman’s jacket and set it on her tray, prompting a familiar dip of the head, flush of the cheeks and grin.
“I prefer blue,” she said finally, staring at the Jell-O cup.
“Red’s all they had. Tastes better anyway,” he added, renewing the age-old argument, still staring. She eventually looked up, tilted her head and sighed. Tearing the lid off, she took a spoonful and let it roll around in her mouth before swallowing.
“Killing me here, Carter,” he mumbled.
More giggling from the peanut gallery resulted in a glare he distinctly remembered as melting cadets in their combat boots but which now only inspired more laughter at his expense.
“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” she suggested, standing and dumping her tray in the nearby station and grabbing her book bag. “See you later,” she called to the other girls over her shoulder as Jon joined her. “I don’t know my way around yet,” she whispered, “So, you lead; I’ll follow?”
“Well, that’s familiar.” He threw her a cocky grin, and she rolled her eyes but smiled, too.
During a trek around the outer boundaries of the campus, she explained that Thor had contacted the SGC upon discovering another failed Loki experiment - her - in stasis in a remote laboratory. They had left her disposition up to Colonel Carter. Stationed at Nellis at the time, Carter had accepted the clone as her adopted “niece”, and “Grace”, as she went by, had lived with Cassie and Carter there. She had stayed with Cassie in an apartment when Sam returned to the SGC but moved to the Springs when Cassie went away for a semester’s study abroad.
They ended their walk at her next classroom. He’d gone only a few steps when he turned, and, walking backward, called out her name. When she looked back, he pointed up at another cheesy prom poster suggesting they should “Dance the Night Away”.
“Wanna go?” To Grace’s grimace, he replied, “I know, but…wanna?” She sighed, smiled and reluctantly nodded. “Sweet!” He gave her a lopsided grin before turning and jogging away, thinking, ‘Maybe this high school do-over thing won’t be a total loss after all.’
Shows: SGA
Story Title: Let's Dance
Character/Relationships: Ronon/Melena
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Ronon had been running for a year when a wraith cornered him.
A small village had offered him shelter the day before. When he arrived they were preparing for a celebration of the year's first harvest. That evening, fresh vegetables, warm bread and ale were plentiful. Laughter and music filled the air, and an admirer's glance was all it took to get the townsfolk dancing.
Melena had always loved to dance. When he first met her on Sateda she had been moving across the crowded dance floor, slipping elegantly between people as if she were the only one there. He was drinking his fill at the bar and keeping his distance from the giant pit of dancers, but he couldn't take his eyes off her.
When they started dating, he indulged her a few times, but he was always stiff and awkward, bumping into everyone around him. He looked a fool and was always an ass afterward. But Melena was kind, and eventually stopped asking to go out. She never went out on her own, either, perhaps guessing that he would be jealous of her spending time with men who were more talented at something than he.
If anything, her willingness to make that sacrifice had made him love her more. It certainly made him want to make her happy.
For her, he sucked in his pride and approached Javick, the task master for a unit Ronon had dealings with. Ronon had seen the man out with his partner. He was just as commanding a presence on the dance floor as he was on the battlefield, and didn't blink or hesitate when Ronon asked him for lessons.
The first few were awful.
"You're thinking too much about it," Javick said.
"Of course I am," Ronon barked, "How else am I going to remember all these moves and crap?! You may be a natural at this, but I'm not."
Javck's eyes hardened for a split a second, and Ronon remembered he was talking to a commanding officer. Javick moved closer, and Ronon expected a reprimand, maybe even a hit, but instead Javick placed a hand on Ronon's shoulder.
"I've seen you fight," he said. "You are a natural warrior. And if you can do that, you can dance."
From that moment, the lessons changed. Javick set them up almost as late-night combat sessions, pulling useful steps here and there and comparing them to similar attacks and defenses. It was a matter of modification, confidence and letting the music be his guide, Javick had said.
Soon Ronon felt confident he could hold his own on the floor. It was then that he set his plan into motion. A nearby club was featuring a local band the same night another was hosting a cage match. Ronon listened to the music, found it suitable and made a date with Melena for "dinner and a fight." He'd surprise her at the new venue, and it would be the night of their lives.
But it never happened.
Word of the Wraith attack came. Sateda was destroyed and Melena with it. She would never get to dance again.
But now Ronon was here. Bringing death and destruction to another village. He wanted to leave, and quickly, but standing between him and the gate was a wraith, grinning at him.
He was tired of running. If the wraith wanted to dance, he would dance.
Story Title: Worries for Another Day
Character/Relationships: Teal'c, Bra'tac
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Part of him felt that he should put a stop to it. There was still much to be done, decisions to be made. There were battles left to fight. They had merely created a vacuum and only heaven knew what would fill it. Countless evils waited in the vastness of the universe, and he feared that the Jaffa may have cast off their yoke merely to become enslaved by the next despots to come along. It had taken so long to win their freedom, and it could be lost again in the blink of an eye.
And yet, he hesitated. While the drinks were poured and the music played, he stood at the side of the camp. They would listen to him if he spoke up. If he silenced the celebration and demanded they seat a council immediately, they would agree. He was Bra'tac, the unwitting head of their rebellion. They looked at him as some sort of prophet, a title he shunned with all his being. He was just an old man, the last in a line who happened to survive to see the day they had fought so hard for. He was just a soldier.
Movement came toward him through the forest and he was primed for a fight as the steps came closer. Only when he recognized the sound of his student's footfalls did he relax. Teal'c took position at Bra'tac's right hand. When Bra'tac looked at Teal'c's face, he saw well-deserved pride. Teal'c was the one who deserved their accolades and their cheers. Teal'c was the one who had led them to this victory.
"Perhaps this is ill-advised."
Bra'tac smiled. Teal'c was definitely his student. "They have definitely earned it. The war may not be over, but the battle we never thought we would see has been won. They deserve one night."
Teal'c agreed by straightening his shoulders slightly and lifting his chin. "The Tau'ri have returned home. They did not feel they would be welcome in this celebration."
"They helped bring it about."
"That is what I said. However, General O'Neill was quite adamant that this was... our Woodstock."
Bra'tac sighed. He didn't know what was worse, that a man like O'Neill could become a leader of his people... or that he was one of the best leaders he'd ever seen. Bra'tac had trained no warriors like O'Neill. Perhaps that had been his error.
"Go to them, Teal'c. This is as much your celebration as it is theirs. You should enjoy yourself before you become burdened by the weight of what comes next."
Teal'c hesitated, but then nodded once. "Perhaps you are right."
"If you remember only one lesson of mine, may it be that one."
Teal'c bowed to his master before stepping into the clearing. He was greeted by cheers, immediately set upon by a group of young Jaffa men. Bra'tac watched, and a smile spread across his creased features.
Every man and woman in the crowd had fought valiantly, and the Goa'uld were on the run. The Jaffa were free for the first time in history. Put against all of that, one night of celebration hardly seemed enough.
Shows: Stargate SG-1
Story Title: High School Do-Over
Character/Relationships: Jonathan O’Neill (mini-Jack), “Grace” Carter (mini-Sam) Rating: PG
Warnings: Slightly AU
Jonathan O’Neill glanced up at the poster and rolled his eyes. What had he been thinking when he chose a “high school do-over”? Okay, at first, dating nubile young women with the wisdom of a man of the world (the universe, really) and the body of a teen had seemed like a good idea. However, Jon hadn’t taken into account the often vacuous mind of some modern girls. Jon found himself attracted to the teachers, not his fellow students - definitely problematic.
Having gained his full height, with his natural athletic ability having come to the fore in hockey and baseball, his situation had grown ridiculous. And never more so than as winter snow melted and prom season approached. If one more girl fluttered her eyelashes in hopes of an invitation…
And then *she* came along. He’d heard rumors all morning. The “new girl” took virtually all AP classes - math, biology, chemistry, physics…hmm. He wondered if SG-1 had somehow altered the time line or presumed upon Thor’s good grace to rescue him from this socially miserable existence. Not that O’Neill Senior had kept in touch, as agreed. But he knew the Air Force kept tabs on him and that O’Neill had received a promotion to General and later had transferred to Washington. Poor bastard.
Jon took science classes that he hadn’t bothered with before and did well, but he hadn’t achieved AP level, so he hadn’t crossed paths with her yet that day. At lunch, still in coats against cool temps, the students sat outside enjoying the unseasonable sunshine. A couple of his much-smarter, Ivy-League-bound buddies commiserated over their apparent failure to impress this spectacular new specimen of feminine charms. Finally, someone pointed her out to him across the quad, and he knew for sure. Carter.
She shared a table with a group of geeky science girls and only half listened to their conversation. He could tell even from this distance; three years removed and on a face not yet etched with the concerns of a world-saving Air Force Officer, he recognized the look of Carter’s mental gymnastics. Still contemplating the permutations - yeah, he had improved vocabulary - of some experiment she had left running while mentally reviewing her up-coming presentation and simultaneously listening for key elements of the lengthy diatribe of a certain verbose archaeologist/linguist - or in this case, geek girl.
Without a word to his companions, Jon rose, tossed the remains of his lunch except for one item and walked over to her table. Their eyes met as he stood behind Molly Green, the freckle-faced, pony-tailed chemistry nerd who had tutored him last year, who sat opposite her. He waited for Molly to stop talking - which took a Daniel minute - before he spoke.
“Hey, Molly.”
Molly tilted her head back and squinted against the sun shining behind him.
“Oh, hi, Jon. Here, you can have my seat,” she offered as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a jock to join their table. “I have to go see Mr. Woolley to requisition supplies for my senior project anyway. How’s Chem 2 going?” Molly had gathered her things and moved, and Jon had sat down before he answered.
“Fine, thanks.” He didn’t look at Molly, answering by rote. Eventually she left with a shrug he didn’t see - knew her so well, he didn’t need to see it to know it happened - because his gaze fixated on blue eyes. Tittering among the other geeks distracted him momentarily. “Girls,” he said by way of greeting with a quick glance. He remembered none of their names, though he recognized the redhead from his English class, the girl currently mooning over him. He winced, and Carter bit her lips to keep from smiling. He pulled his offering from the pocket of his letterman’s jacket and set it on her tray, prompting a familiar dip of the head, flush of the cheeks and grin.
“I prefer blue,” she said finally, staring at the Jell-O cup.
“Red’s all they had. Tastes better anyway,” he added, renewing the age-old argument, still staring. She eventually looked up, tilted her head and sighed. Tearing the lid off, she took a spoonful and let it roll around in her mouth before swallowing.
“Killing me here, Carter,” he mumbled.
More giggling from the peanut gallery resulted in a glare he distinctly remembered as melting cadets in their combat boots but which now only inspired more laughter at his expense.
“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” she suggested, standing and dumping her tray in the nearby station and grabbing her book bag. “See you later,” she called to the other girls over her shoulder as Jon joined her. “I don’t know my way around yet,” she whispered, “So, you lead; I’ll follow?”
“Well, that’s familiar.” He threw her a cocky grin, and she rolled her eyes but smiled, too.
During a trek around the outer boundaries of the campus, she explained that Thor had contacted the SGC upon discovering another failed Loki experiment - her - in stasis in a remote laboratory. They had left her disposition up to Colonel Carter. Stationed at Nellis at the time, Carter had accepted the clone as her adopted “niece”, and “Grace”, as she went by, had lived with Cassie and Carter there. She had stayed with Cassie in an apartment when Sam returned to the SGC but moved to the Springs when Cassie went away for a semester’s study abroad.
They ended their walk at her next classroom. He’d gone only a few steps when he turned, and, walking backward, called out her name. When she looked back, he pointed up at another cheesy prom poster suggesting they should “Dance the Night Away”.
“Wanna go?” To Grace’s grimace, he replied, “I know, but…wanna?” She sighed, smiled and reluctantly nodded. “Sweet!” He gave her a lopsided grin before turning and jogging away, thinking, ‘Maybe this high school do-over thing won’t be a total loss after all.’
Shows: SGA
Story Title: Let's Dance
Character/Relationships: Ronon/Melena
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Ronon had been running for a year when a wraith cornered him.
A small village had offered him shelter the day before. When he arrived they were preparing for a celebration of the year's first harvest. That evening, fresh vegetables, warm bread and ale were plentiful. Laughter and music filled the air, and an admirer's glance was all it took to get the townsfolk dancing.
Melena had always loved to dance. When he first met her on Sateda she had been moving across the crowded dance floor, slipping elegantly between people as if she were the only one there. He was drinking his fill at the bar and keeping his distance from the giant pit of dancers, but he couldn't take his eyes off her.
When they started dating, he indulged her a few times, but he was always stiff and awkward, bumping into everyone around him. He looked a fool and was always an ass afterward. But Melena was kind, and eventually stopped asking to go out. She never went out on her own, either, perhaps guessing that he would be jealous of her spending time with men who were more talented at something than he.
If anything, her willingness to make that sacrifice had made him love her more. It certainly made him want to make her happy.
For her, he sucked in his pride and approached Javick, the task master for a unit Ronon had dealings with. Ronon had seen the man out with his partner. He was just as commanding a presence on the dance floor as he was on the battlefield, and didn't blink or hesitate when Ronon asked him for lessons.
The first few were awful.
"You're thinking too much about it," Javick said.
"Of course I am," Ronon barked, "How else am I going to remember all these moves and crap?! You may be a natural at this, but I'm not."
Javck's eyes hardened for a split a second, and Ronon remembered he was talking to a commanding officer. Javick moved closer, and Ronon expected a reprimand, maybe even a hit, but instead Javick placed a hand on Ronon's shoulder.
"I've seen you fight," he said. "You are a natural warrior. And if you can do that, you can dance."
From that moment, the lessons changed. Javick set them up almost as late-night combat sessions, pulling useful steps here and there and comparing them to similar attacks and defenses. It was a matter of modification, confidence and letting the music be his guide, Javick had said.
Soon Ronon felt confident he could hold his own on the floor. It was then that he set his plan into motion. A nearby club was featuring a local band the same night another was hosting a cage match. Ronon listened to the music, found it suitable and made a date with Melena for "dinner and a fight." He'd surprise her at the new venue, and it would be the night of their lives.
But it never happened.
Word of the Wraith attack came. Sateda was destroyed and Melena with it. She would never get to dance again.
But now Ronon was here. Bringing death and destruction to another village. He wanted to leave, and quickly, but standing between him and the gate was a wraith, grinning at him.
He was tired of running. If the wraith wanted to dance, he would dance.