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itsallovernowETA: I'm assuming that everyone else's geography is as sketchy as mine, since only one person called me on the North/South Dakota mixup! Thanks anonymous commenter!!!
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mesascaper wanted Mitchell, Sheppard, Blue Jeans, Dog Tags. THis is only barely a fraction of that so anyone who wants to run with that very pretty image should feel free to do so!!
Cam's pretty much given up the rushing into trouble like his ass is on fire approach to management, but when he sees Sheppard standing in the gateroom wearing an expression half way between, "someone kicked my puppy" and "gimmee a puppy to kick", he took up the mantle of recklessness once again.
"Drink beer?" he asked, walking up to Sheppard, holding out his hand.
"Runs with puddle jumpers?" Sheppard raises an eyebrow. Cam snorts, drops his hand.
"Mitchell."
"Oh. Oh yeah. Sheppard."
Cam fights back a grin, fights back a No shit, sherlock. "Been freed from briefings for the rest of the afternoon, well, evening, night... whatever."
"And beer factors into this... whatever?" Sheppard's mouth twitches, and Cam's not sure if it's a good twitch or a bad twitch.
"Ideally." Cam rubs the back of his neck, starts to wonder if this whole endeavor was a mistake.
"It might involve beer with aliens. Depending."
"Well," Sheppard shifts his weight, guard vectoring slightly to the side, "Why didn't you say so?"
*
Beer with aliens turned into beer with SG-1 and the backup singer at his apartment where he tossed Sheppard an old pair of Levis and the man sat at the kitchen bar, drinking beer with his feet bare, pushed hard against the bar stools, looking vaguely out the window at Pikes Peak in the distance. Cam heated up pizza and they did the sort of half-heartedly chitchat that men with too much in common tend to do when they've got nothing much to say.
"Rockies stand a fair chance this year," he said, handed Sheppard a piece of Tombstone sausage and pepperoni.
"Thought we could take in an Avalanche game." He knew Sheppard's we and his own don't overlap. "Rodney's Canadian. He has to pretend to like hockey."
The man's got low grade humor down and Cam was willing to bet it's covering up some real healthy PTSD. Not his problem, just wanted to give the man a little space, a few options. He knows all about that expression Sheppard was wearing earlier.
It's a relief when the doorbell rings. Vala standing in front of Daniel, his hand hovering somewhere near the collar of a jacket that cost as much as Cam made in a month. He looks ready to pull and yank. Sam stood to the side, holding up a 12 pack with bicycles on the side.
"Well," Vala asked. "Where've you put him?"
Cam holds open the door, gestures them inside, and catches Sheppard's eye around the curve of Teal'c's bicep. The other man shrugs. Let the games begin.
*
"You're very pretty," Vala had been sequestered to a seat on the couch between Jackson and Teal'c, and while she appeared tiny and overwhelmed squashed up between them, everyone knew better. "How do you feel about sex?" She fluttered her eyelashes at Sheppard who mostly looked dazed.
Daniel elbowed her.
"Don't be jealous darling, it's only temporary."
"I'm not, it's� he's a guest� he's�"
Cam dropped his forehead into his hand. "Kids, can we save the dysfunction for therapy? We're not exactly makin' a good impression."
Vala stuck her tongue out at him, then winked.
Sheppard slung an arm over the back of the kitchen chair and gave her a sleepy smile.
"Don't encourage her," Cam warned and then grunted as Vala kicked him under the coffee table. No one else had shoes that pointy.
"It's remarkable ... what you ..." Sam started to say, then shrugged, mouth turning up self-consciously. "Well, what isn't, I guess." She lifted her bottle, took a healthy swallow of Fat Tire.
"I miss beer," Sheppard said finally, the only thing he's volunteered so far that hasn't been a please thank you where's the head. "Air Force keeps sending us Coors." He kept glancing around, hands flexing like he had lost track of something important - a limb or an ally or a really big gun. Conversation had faded to a dull nothing. "Feeling kind of like a circus freak here," he said, and drank down the rest of his beer.
"Don't worry," Vala suggested,"They don�t mean anything by it. They think you're pretty as well, and they just never run into anyone more emotionally damaged then they are. Except Mitchell. "
She paused. "You could tell us about the soul sucking vampires," and this time Teal'c elbowed her.
She turned her head towards him. "What? That's what they're fighting, right? It's not about sex, it's not about money. I can't ask about anything, 'Top Secret' " She made quote marks in the air, poking Jackson and Teal'c both with her elbows.
"Am I supposed to ask him what he watches on television? Do you really think they have TiVo out there?" She quirked an eyebrow at Sheppard. "What did you really think of Project Runway? Personally, I thought Santino was robbed. No? Well, to each his own I suppose."
She set her mouth, looking defiantly at Cam and then her couch companions. "So what do you do for fun out there? Orgies? Expeditions? Shuffleboard? Cliff diving? Shooting things? Shooting each other? Surf through MySpace and look for pornography?"
"She may be the key to saving humanity," Jackson offered.
"We maybe should have kept her away from the pop culture," Cam started to say, and realized the Sheppard was laughing, rich and deep, a belly laugh that threatened to spill over into hysteria.
"We ... you're crazy, Chloe completely deserved to win."
"Hmph," Vala crossed her arms, gave him a real smile and Sheppard swallowed hard, wiped his hands on his pants.
He shrugged apologetically, met Cam's eye. "We got care packages."
"Cool," Cam said, "That's� we watched a lot of Jeopardy my last tour. Go on, ask me the capital of Micronesia."
"Colonel Mitchell," Teal said, a gleam in his eye, "Last week you did not know the capital of North Dakota."
"Teal'c," Cam shakes his head. "No one knows the capital of North Dakota."
"Bismark," Sam said, smile bright, and Cam grinned at her. "Okay, somehow I knew you'd know that."
"Thanks," Sheppard broke in suddenly. "For the beer. For the weird night. And well, for the beer."
"Yeah," Cam said. "Any time."
***
_minxy_ wanted S10, any S10. And gah, this one made me weirdly weepy from nostalgia I didn't know I had for this place.
Post Flesh and Blood.
Zebulan Pike Was Here
It's clear outside, bright and clean in a way that only the western states can be, a vista of mountains, a blue sky and air that smells like fresh grass and fabric softner.
Or maybe that's just him. His dress blues always smell vaguely like Downy.
Cam rolls down the window of the car as he drives. It's Sunday morning, and quiet. He takes the freeway, doesn't encounter much traffic, and when he pulls up to the gates of the Academy, the kid at the entrykiosk gives him a wide-eyed salute.
It smells the same, piney and open, gravelly with an asphalt and spitshine kicker. When he walks onto these grounds, he feels like a kid. Young and green and cocky and kinda lost. Not so different from now, years and mileage aside.
He heads for the officer's lounge, and doesn't stop to look around, offers a few half-hearted salutes to guys in their short sleeves and studiously ignores the cadets fiddling with their gloves, waiting for their COs to go to chapel.
He looks out over the dining room, the good white china, the crystal and white tablecloths, orange juice very bright against the cut class. Silverware clinking against quiet conversation. He's always been more comfortable in the mess with the crappy coffee and the tin plates. He likes to think he's the kind of man who would have done well in a foxhole.
"Colonel." The same voice that used to have Cam jittery and restless, trying to run maneuvers over and over in his head during physics class, and Cam turns, hand extended to shake with his old professor. Jennings is a Colonel in his own right, came back to the Academy to teach when he couldn't fly anymore.
"Ever miss Sunday morning runs in the Thunderbirds?"
Cam shakes his head, "No sir. Not in the least. Flying in formation was never my strong suit."
Jennings grins, slaps him on the back. "It wasn't a tough trade Mitchell, pigskins for joysticks. You always did well with a football in your hand."
"Do pretty well in cockpit,too" Cam says, feels comfortable with that arrogance because it's truth.
"Yeah," Jennings nodded. "You did."
They're almost done with breakfast when Jennings sits back, looks around the room and sighs. "Used to be, you could smoke in here."
Cam rubs his mouth. "I don't mind a walk, sir."
They stroll towards the chapel, the bells filling up the air, round and resonant.
"Wanna come teach some kids how to fly a plane, Shaft?"
Stopping on the edge of the path, Cam takes off his hat, rubs the sweat from his hairline. It's warmer than usual and he's sweating in the wool. He'll have to get the uniform dry-cleaned.
"I, sir, I have a job."
Jennings grey eyes are shrewd. "Heard about that."
"Really."
"Word gets around. If you know where to listen."
Cam doesn't say anything.
"You like it?"
He pauses. Thinks hard. "Yeah. I like it."
"You were the golden boy here Mitchell, and out there. That still holding true."
Cam swallows hard. "It's not really like that, sir. I've got a lot to learn."
"And you can't tell me anything about it."
"No, sir."
They walk across the path that leads to the back of the chapel to avoid the people coming out the front door. Jennings lights another cigarette, takes a deep drag.
"You could still come by, teach once in a while. Give 'em a thrill. A real hero in their midst."
Thinking about the past year, Cam can't even put those concepts together. He's not a hero. He's a guy barely getting by. But he hates to say no. Been a long time since anyone looked at him with awe, held onto his words and advice like they were something precious. Been a long time since it was deserved. Maybe he misses being the golden boy more than he thought. Then he thinks about everything he's seen, thinks about the sacrifices that Carter and Jackson and Teal'c have all made, the sacrifices yet to be made. He thinks about Vala, smaller in her hospital bed than he remembers her being, something banked in her.
"I'm sorry, sir. I hate to let you down."
Jennings shakes his head. "I'll call Hank, tell him not to worry then."
Cam nods.
He can still faintly hear the church bells as their tone fades into stillness and he gestures at the chapel with his hat.
"If you don't mind sir, I think, maybe…" he pauses, uncomfortable with the words and the sentiment even if he did attend chapel every Sunday he was on base. "I think I should pay my respects."
Jennings nods and they part ways.
The chapel is warm, sun streaming in between the spiked spires that mimic the peak in the background. It's quiet, and the last of the worshippers is standing at the entrance, talking to the pastor.
He'd gone to church on Christmas day with his mom and his sister, dressed up and laughing and singing hymns and lighting candles, the ritual and reverence part of family as much as faith. He's not quite sure where to put his faith these days, how to let it rest anywhere but on the backs of his reluctant team.
When he sits in the pew, he thinks less about god than about godliness, about priors and punishment, and the idea that faith alone sure as hell wasn't going to be enough to meet what was coming.
"I don't remember all their names," he murmurs, and leans forward, elbows resting on the pew in front of him. "Don't know what they did aside from die because of what we couldn't do. But if you're out there, watch out for 'em?" He feels like he should say more, but flipping through the psalms leaves him uninspired. He quickly mutters the lords prayer, and pushes up and out of the pew, walks back to his car. He's got one more stop to make.
*
Cam's about to leave when she opens her eyes, blinking against the light, then pushes up on her hands, shuffling herself into sitting. He's glad, in that moment, that he didn't leave before she woke up. She's beautiful when she's quiet, asleep with the dark sweep of lashes shadowing her cheekbones. It's strange to think of since she isn't quiet very often. She's something else entirely when her eyes are open, her mind working the angles.
"Well," she says, then scrubs at her eye with the back of her wrist like a child. "You... you're actually very handsome all dressed up like that."
"Just wanted to see how you were doing," he says, vaguely embarrassed at the compliment. There was a level of flat sincerity to her voice that surprises him, like she's too tired to ring false.
He passes his hat from one hand to another.
"You could take more advantage of that," she says, sinks her head back against the pillow, yawns. There are circles under her eyes, dark like bruising.
"I've taken plenty of advantage," he starts to grin.
"No," she says, looks him up and down, assessing. "I doubt you really have."
He doesn't know what else to say to her. He's here in penance as much as concern.
"I…" he starts.
"I accept your apology," she says, interrupting him. "Let me just imagine it as I want it. I've a feeling that your not going to shower me with gifts and roses and expensive candies and beg my forgiveness."
"Um, probably not."
"Well, that's that then."
She bites her lower lip, twines her fingers together, then looks back up at him. "Daniel apologized early. Teal'c brought me that…" she points to a stuffed kitten on the bedside table and grins. "Carter came with teal'c, but she only brought those." A clutch of daisies shadowed the cat.
"You didn't bring me anything."
He shakes his head.
"At least you're nice to look at," she says, then shrugs.
Cam steps closer to the hospital bed, and leans forward, brushes her hair away from her forehead, and presses his lips briefly to her skin. Her skin is vaguely damp from sleep and from sweat, sweet against his mouth. She puts her hand to his cheek before he can withdraw entirely, the gesture grounding and serious, so little delicacy. He can feel the touch slip down his spine, the gentleness, the alienness of it, coming from her.
"I forgive you," she murmurs and when he pulls back, he sees that her eyes are closed. That moment's better than any kind of hero worship and he's almost giddy with it. Cam steps back and her eyes fly open, wicked and dark.
"But next time, I want something better than a kiss and a tight uniform."
He puts his hand up to salute her, manages not to smile until he walks out the door.
mesascaper wanted Mitchell, Sheppard, Blue Jeans, Dog Tags. THis is only barely a fraction of that so anyone who wants to run with that very pretty image should feel free to do so!!Cam's pretty much given up the rushing into trouble like his ass is on fire approach to management, but when he sees Sheppard standing in the gateroom wearing an expression half way between, "someone kicked my puppy" and "gimmee a puppy to kick", he took up the mantle of recklessness once again.
"Drink beer?" he asked, walking up to Sheppard, holding out his hand.
"Runs with puddle jumpers?" Sheppard raises an eyebrow. Cam snorts, drops his hand.
"Mitchell."
"Oh. Oh yeah. Sheppard."
Cam fights back a grin, fights back a No shit, sherlock. "Been freed from briefings for the rest of the afternoon, well, evening, night... whatever."
"And beer factors into this... whatever?" Sheppard's mouth twitches, and Cam's not sure if it's a good twitch or a bad twitch.
"Ideally." Cam rubs the back of his neck, starts to wonder if this whole endeavor was a mistake.
"It might involve beer with aliens. Depending."
"Well," Sheppard shifts his weight, guard vectoring slightly to the side, "Why didn't you say so?"
*
Beer with aliens turned into beer with SG-1 and the backup singer at his apartment where he tossed Sheppard an old pair of Levis and the man sat at the kitchen bar, drinking beer with his feet bare, pushed hard against the bar stools, looking vaguely out the window at Pikes Peak in the distance. Cam heated up pizza and they did the sort of half-heartedly chitchat that men with too much in common tend to do when they've got nothing much to say.
"Rockies stand a fair chance this year," he said, handed Sheppard a piece of Tombstone sausage and pepperoni.
"Thought we could take in an Avalanche game." He knew Sheppard's we and his own don't overlap. "Rodney's Canadian. He has to pretend to like hockey."
The man's got low grade humor down and Cam was willing to bet it's covering up some real healthy PTSD. Not his problem, just wanted to give the man a little space, a few options. He knows all about that expression Sheppard was wearing earlier.
It's a relief when the doorbell rings. Vala standing in front of Daniel, his hand hovering somewhere near the collar of a jacket that cost as much as Cam made in a month. He looks ready to pull and yank. Sam stood to the side, holding up a 12 pack with bicycles on the side.
"Well," Vala asked. "Where've you put him?"
Cam holds open the door, gestures them inside, and catches Sheppard's eye around the curve of Teal'c's bicep. The other man shrugs. Let the games begin.
*
"You're very pretty," Vala had been sequestered to a seat on the couch between Jackson and Teal'c, and while she appeared tiny and overwhelmed squashed up between them, everyone knew better. "How do you feel about sex?" She fluttered her eyelashes at Sheppard who mostly looked dazed.
Daniel elbowed her.
"Don't be jealous darling, it's only temporary."
"I'm not, it's� he's a guest� he's�"
Cam dropped his forehead into his hand. "Kids, can we save the dysfunction for therapy? We're not exactly makin' a good impression."
Vala stuck her tongue out at him, then winked.
Sheppard slung an arm over the back of the kitchen chair and gave her a sleepy smile.
"Don't encourage her," Cam warned and then grunted as Vala kicked him under the coffee table. No one else had shoes that pointy.
"It's remarkable ... what you ..." Sam started to say, then shrugged, mouth turning up self-consciously. "Well, what isn't, I guess." She lifted her bottle, took a healthy swallow of Fat Tire.
"I miss beer," Sheppard said finally, the only thing he's volunteered so far that hasn't been a please thank you where's the head. "Air Force keeps sending us Coors." He kept glancing around, hands flexing like he had lost track of something important - a limb or an ally or a really big gun. Conversation had faded to a dull nothing. "Feeling kind of like a circus freak here," he said, and drank down the rest of his beer.
"Don't worry," Vala suggested,"They don�t mean anything by it. They think you're pretty as well, and they just never run into anyone more emotionally damaged then they are. Except Mitchell. "
She paused. "You could tell us about the soul sucking vampires," and this time Teal'c elbowed her.
She turned her head towards him. "What? That's what they're fighting, right? It's not about sex, it's not about money. I can't ask about anything, 'Top Secret' " She made quote marks in the air, poking Jackson and Teal'c both with her elbows.
"Am I supposed to ask him what he watches on television? Do you really think they have TiVo out there?" She quirked an eyebrow at Sheppard. "What did you really think of Project Runway? Personally, I thought Santino was robbed. No? Well, to each his own I suppose."
She set her mouth, looking defiantly at Cam and then her couch companions. "So what do you do for fun out there? Orgies? Expeditions? Shuffleboard? Cliff diving? Shooting things? Shooting each other? Surf through MySpace and look for pornography?"
"She may be the key to saving humanity," Jackson offered.
"We maybe should have kept her away from the pop culture," Cam started to say, and realized the Sheppard was laughing, rich and deep, a belly laugh that threatened to spill over into hysteria.
"We ... you're crazy, Chloe completely deserved to win."
"Hmph," Vala crossed her arms, gave him a real smile and Sheppard swallowed hard, wiped his hands on his pants.
He shrugged apologetically, met Cam's eye. "We got care packages."
"Cool," Cam said, "That's� we watched a lot of Jeopardy my last tour. Go on, ask me the capital of Micronesia."
"Colonel Mitchell," Teal said, a gleam in his eye, "Last week you did not know the capital of North Dakota."
"Teal'c," Cam shakes his head. "No one knows the capital of North Dakota."
"Bismark," Sam said, smile bright, and Cam grinned at her. "Okay, somehow I knew you'd know that."
"Thanks," Sheppard broke in suddenly. "For the beer. For the weird night. And well, for the beer."
"Yeah," Cam said. "Any time."
***
_minxy_ wanted S10, any S10. And gah, this one made me weirdly weepy from nostalgia I didn't know I had for this place.Post Flesh and Blood.
Zebulan Pike Was Here
It's clear outside, bright and clean in a way that only the western states can be, a vista of mountains, a blue sky and air that smells like fresh grass and fabric softner.
Or maybe that's just him. His dress blues always smell vaguely like Downy.
Cam rolls down the window of the car as he drives. It's Sunday morning, and quiet. He takes the freeway, doesn't encounter much traffic, and when he pulls up to the gates of the Academy, the kid at the entrykiosk gives him a wide-eyed salute.
It smells the same, piney and open, gravelly with an asphalt and spitshine kicker. When he walks onto these grounds, he feels like a kid. Young and green and cocky and kinda lost. Not so different from now, years and mileage aside.
He heads for the officer's lounge, and doesn't stop to look around, offers a few half-hearted salutes to guys in their short sleeves and studiously ignores the cadets fiddling with their gloves, waiting for their COs to go to chapel.
He looks out over the dining room, the good white china, the crystal and white tablecloths, orange juice very bright against the cut class. Silverware clinking against quiet conversation. He's always been more comfortable in the mess with the crappy coffee and the tin plates. He likes to think he's the kind of man who would have done well in a foxhole.
"Colonel." The same voice that used to have Cam jittery and restless, trying to run maneuvers over and over in his head during physics class, and Cam turns, hand extended to shake with his old professor. Jennings is a Colonel in his own right, came back to the Academy to teach when he couldn't fly anymore.
"Ever miss Sunday morning runs in the Thunderbirds?"
Cam shakes his head, "No sir. Not in the least. Flying in formation was never my strong suit."
Jennings grins, slaps him on the back. "It wasn't a tough trade Mitchell, pigskins for joysticks. You always did well with a football in your hand."
"Do pretty well in cockpit,too" Cam says, feels comfortable with that arrogance because it's truth.
"Yeah," Jennings nodded. "You did."
They're almost done with breakfast when Jennings sits back, looks around the room and sighs. "Used to be, you could smoke in here."
Cam rubs his mouth. "I don't mind a walk, sir."
They stroll towards the chapel, the bells filling up the air, round and resonant.
"Wanna come teach some kids how to fly a plane, Shaft?"
Stopping on the edge of the path, Cam takes off his hat, rubs the sweat from his hairline. It's warmer than usual and he's sweating in the wool. He'll have to get the uniform dry-cleaned.
"I, sir, I have a job."
Jennings grey eyes are shrewd. "Heard about that."
"Really."
"Word gets around. If you know where to listen."
Cam doesn't say anything.
"You like it?"
He pauses. Thinks hard. "Yeah. I like it."
"You were the golden boy here Mitchell, and out there. That still holding true."
Cam swallows hard. "It's not really like that, sir. I've got a lot to learn."
"And you can't tell me anything about it."
"No, sir."
They walk across the path that leads to the back of the chapel to avoid the people coming out the front door. Jennings lights another cigarette, takes a deep drag.
"You could still come by, teach once in a while. Give 'em a thrill. A real hero in their midst."
Thinking about the past year, Cam can't even put those concepts together. He's not a hero. He's a guy barely getting by. But he hates to say no. Been a long time since anyone looked at him with awe, held onto his words and advice like they were something precious. Been a long time since it was deserved. Maybe he misses being the golden boy more than he thought. Then he thinks about everything he's seen, thinks about the sacrifices that Carter and Jackson and Teal'c have all made, the sacrifices yet to be made. He thinks about Vala, smaller in her hospital bed than he remembers her being, something banked in her.
"I'm sorry, sir. I hate to let you down."
Jennings shakes his head. "I'll call Hank, tell him not to worry then."
Cam nods.
He can still faintly hear the church bells as their tone fades into stillness and he gestures at the chapel with his hat.
"If you don't mind sir, I think, maybe…" he pauses, uncomfortable with the words and the sentiment even if he did attend chapel every Sunday he was on base. "I think I should pay my respects."
Jennings nods and they part ways.
The chapel is warm, sun streaming in between the spiked spires that mimic the peak in the background. It's quiet, and the last of the worshippers is standing at the entrance, talking to the pastor.
He'd gone to church on Christmas day with his mom and his sister, dressed up and laughing and singing hymns and lighting candles, the ritual and reverence part of family as much as faith. He's not quite sure where to put his faith these days, how to let it rest anywhere but on the backs of his reluctant team.
When he sits in the pew, he thinks less about god than about godliness, about priors and punishment, and the idea that faith alone sure as hell wasn't going to be enough to meet what was coming.
"I don't remember all their names," he murmurs, and leans forward, elbows resting on the pew in front of him. "Don't know what they did aside from die because of what we couldn't do. But if you're out there, watch out for 'em?" He feels like he should say more, but flipping through the psalms leaves him uninspired. He quickly mutters the lords prayer, and pushes up and out of the pew, walks back to his car. He's got one more stop to make.
*
Cam's about to leave when she opens her eyes, blinking against the light, then pushes up on her hands, shuffling herself into sitting. He's glad, in that moment, that he didn't leave before she woke up. She's beautiful when she's quiet, asleep with the dark sweep of lashes shadowing her cheekbones. It's strange to think of since she isn't quiet very often. She's something else entirely when her eyes are open, her mind working the angles.
"Well," she says, then scrubs at her eye with the back of her wrist like a child. "You... you're actually very handsome all dressed up like that."
"Just wanted to see how you were doing," he says, vaguely embarrassed at the compliment. There was a level of flat sincerity to her voice that surprises him, like she's too tired to ring false.
He passes his hat from one hand to another.
"You could take more advantage of that," she says, sinks her head back against the pillow, yawns. There are circles under her eyes, dark like bruising.
"I've taken plenty of advantage," he starts to grin.
"No," she says, looks him up and down, assessing. "I doubt you really have."
He doesn't know what else to say to her. He's here in penance as much as concern.
"I…" he starts.
"I accept your apology," she says, interrupting him. "Let me just imagine it as I want it. I've a feeling that your not going to shower me with gifts and roses and expensive candies and beg my forgiveness."
"Um, probably not."
"Well, that's that then."
She bites her lower lip, twines her fingers together, then looks back up at him. "Daniel apologized early. Teal'c brought me that…" she points to a stuffed kitten on the bedside table and grins. "Carter came with teal'c, but she only brought those." A clutch of daisies shadowed the cat.
"You didn't bring me anything."
He shakes his head.
"At least you're nice to look at," she says, then shrugs.
Cam steps closer to the hospital bed, and leans forward, brushes her hair away from her forehead, and presses his lips briefly to her skin. Her skin is vaguely damp from sleep and from sweat, sweet against his mouth. She puts her hand to his cheek before he can withdraw entirely, the gesture grounding and serious, so little delicacy. He can feel the touch slip down his spine, the gentleness, the alienness of it, coming from her.
"I forgive you," she murmurs and when he pulls back, he sees that her eyes are closed. That moment's better than any kind of hero worship and he's almost giddy with it. Cam steps back and her eyes fly open, wicked and dark.
"But next time, I want something better than a kiss and a tight uniform."
He puts his hand up to salute her, manages not to smile until he walks out the door.
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-27 11:59 pm (UTC)hilarious how the air force sends beer....and it's coors. leaves me with an image of some air force guy staring at a loooong row of micro-brews in a laaarge liquor store and finally giving up and getting coors. again.
bwahaha! ""She may be the key to saving humanity," Jackson offered." and vala's speech that precedes this is *perfect*.
~~~~~~~~~
cameron's return the the academy is wonderfully poignant. and very him. and this is a great moment: ""I'll call Hank, tell him not to worry then."
the shift to the visit has such edge, and frays exquisitely around the edge with a glimpse of what's happened. very fine.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 07:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 11:16 am (UTC)makes me wonder what other companies they have a deal with? perhaps a starbucks at the sgc? ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 12:05 am (UTC)I love the vividness of the Academy setting, and self-awareness Cam has in this. I'm never quite sure how self-aware he is, how much to lay on him. This is wonderful.
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:57 am (UTC)I, argh, again on a meta and very personal level, I spent a lot of time at the Air Force Academy because it was right by my house, in my school district. I went there for speech and debate meets, I went there for award ceremonies and interviews, and all of these things and I've never, ever given it much thought beyond simply a location and a place that held a lot of good and bad memories for me without it being the context of what it is. And there was a moment this afternoon when I realized that it was THIS place, that if this man was a pilot in the Air Force, he'd have been part of this place and I almost started to cry, so many things ringing around my head in that moment and I could barely write this. I've never had that experience writing, well, anything, when the scene was sense memory and I couldn't filter it through, when a connection ran that deep and really whapped me.
I'm sort of beyond glad that it worked because it felt more personal than any of the legions of sex I've written:)
Mostly, I'm so glad it worked and that you liked it.
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:08 pm (UTC)huh.
*files notes away*
Oh, and good stories. I liked the Sheppard/SG1 thing.
- hg
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:24 pm (UTC)I've gotta laugh at myself having that sort of emotional reaction to something this sort of... off the cuff. But I have to say that the bulk of my attitude towards the military comes from close proximity to it, without being a part of it, and most of that attitude was notably poor. I hated the cadets because they were cocky and just kind of... they thought they had a right to whatever they wanted, to behave however they wanted and for the most part were just such dumb ass teenage boys given this prestige in their uniforms.
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Date: 2006-07-28 12:49 am (UTC)"She may be the key to saving humanity," Jackson offered.
*sings* maaaaaaarry meeeeee! maaaaaaarrry meeeee! Pick me pick me! or I'll have to die from eeeeeeenvyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! *curtsies*
"I forgive you," she murmurs and when he pulls back, he sees that her eyes are closed. That moment's better than any kind of hero worship and he's almost giddy with it. Cam steps back and her eyes fly open, wicked and dark.
I have a feeling there's something spoilery in that (I'm a week behind), but I don't care, because you manage to find depth in them that rings true so it's worth the risk.
Moooost excellent.
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 01:31 am (UTC)(More Sheppard and Mitchell in the world, yay!)
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 01:33 am (UTC)I love little moments when Vala is moved. Plus, the woman says what we're all thinking, doesn't she?
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:47 am (UTC)So glad you liked it, and I'd be a horrible person if I didn't admit to being inspired by reading some of those conversations!!
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Date: 2006-07-30 05:10 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-07-28 01:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 07:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 01:51 am (UTC)okay , I ♥ your Cameron. and a jean-clad, barefoot Sheppard so works for me.
She set her mouth, looking defiantly at Cam and then her couch companions. "So what do you do for fun out there? Orgies? Expeditions? Shuffleboard? Cliff diving? Shooting things? Shooting each other? Surf through MySpace and look for pornography?"
"She may be the key to saving humanity," Jackson offered.
I love the effect Vala has on Daniel. I love Vala, period. *g*
Go on, ask me the capital of Micronesia."
"Colonel Mitchell," Teal said, a gleam in his eye, "Last week you did not know the capital of South Dakota."
"Teal'c," Cam shakes his head. "No one knows the capital of South Dakota."
"Bismark," Sam said, smile bright, and Cam grinned at her. "Okay, somehow I knew you'd know that."
"Thanks," Sheppard broke in suddenly. "For the beer. For the weird night. And well, for the beer."
"Yeah," Cam said. "Any time."
*happy sigh* that was perfect.
Thank you!
oh, and the other drabble, simply beautiful.
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:43 am (UTC)Bismarck
Date: 2006-08-10 06:37 pm (UTC)Re: Bismarck
Date: 2006-08-10 07:01 pm (UTC)Hee!!
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Date: 2006-07-28 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 07:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 07:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 02:36 am (UTC)Bwah! Although on a more serious note, it almost seems in the second piece that she may be the key to saving Cam -- someone even greener than he is in some ways (though not at all in others, which gives her a blessed complexity), and thus someone he can truly look out for. That was lovely.
Plus, I adore your Sheppard. He is such an opaque character at times, and you captured that, and his broken quality that is buried, deep, deep, so deep, very well. I love the tentative way the SG-1 folks are trying to figure out how to take care of him. They're the only ones on Earth who can, really, but he is such a skittish stray, they have their work cut out for them. You showed that beautifully.
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:40 am (UTC)And I'm glad the perspective on Sheppard worked. I'm woefully out of my depth with him, but I love certain ideas of him, and the reaction, trying to care for him as a team, being sort of hopeless at it, yet willing.
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Date: 2006-07-28 06:55 am (UTC)Like 'em.
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 10:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 04:37 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-07-28 12:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 02:38 pm (UTC)Hee! My love for Vala is boundless.
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Date: 2006-07-28 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 07:04 pm (UTC)"I've taken plenty of advantage," he starts to grin.
"No," she says, looks him up and down, assessing. "I doubt you really have."
Nice exchange!
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Date: 2006-07-28 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 11:07 pm (UTC)These are so beautiful. You've put so much into them, such a large scale of emotions. So many details and such spot on characterization.
I hope you don't mind me friending you, because I don't want to risk missing any more gems like these two.
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Date: 2006-07-28 11:15 pm (UTC)And thanks!
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Date: 2006-07-28 11:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-30 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-07-30 08:11 pm (UTC)So very good.
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Date: 2006-07-31 01:44 am (UTC)