Friday, June 1st, 2007
Five Things - Set #1
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jinnifanfic @ 06:05pm
Some of these are going to be from prompts on my LJ, too.
General Disclaimer: All fandoms belong to their individual copyright holders.
Okay, here's the first set of these. All are rated PG13 in this set.
Title: Five Secrets Teal’c Keeps About the Rest of his Team
Warnings: Mention of Jack/Daniel
Beta: LJ User Sierraphoenix
There are many customs of the Tau’ri that Teal’c has come to understand over his years fighting by their side. There are many more that he still does not and fears he never will. Still, when he walked in on SamCarter holding a riding crop with a young airman tied to her bed, he did not think twice about telling her he would not say a word to anyone.
Teal’c did not intend to be JonasQuinn’s confessor. The Kelownan did not tolerate Tau’ri alcoholic beverages well. What he learned that night, of an abusive father and a mother that self-medicated, would never see the light of day. JonasQuinn might not have been a part of his team long, but Teal’c would hold his secrets just like all others.
The realization that SamCarter holds feelings for O’Neill should have come as a shock after her indiscretion with the airman. She is unaware that he knows, and he has no plans to tell her otherwise. Not when he knows that it is a futile fantasy on her part -
Because he has seen DanielJackson with O’Neill, and knows that the two of them have something together that many would search their entire lives for. Teal’c also understands Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. He doesn’t ask. They don’t tell.
When the team changes, once again – new allies joining their ranks in the form of ColonelMitchell and the unlikely ValaMalDoran – Teal’c holds his secrets and adds new ones. ValaMalDoran is afraid of being alone, she confesses while drugged on PX3-948, and ColonelMitchell likes to ‘bat for both teams’. He is unsure what baseball has to do with anything; however, ColonelMitchell seemed quite insistent that he not mention this to anyone. Ever.
Teal’c never will.
END
Title: Five Good Memories Sam Winchester Has of His Father
Warnings: Slight mention of the end of All Hell Breaks Loose
Beta: LJ User Sierraphoenix
His earliest memory of his father is warm arms, a strong presence. Holding him tight, whispering that he loved him. That he would always try to keep him safe. Sam thinks that maybe he did do that, to his dying day, even if it didn’t always feel like it at the time.
For his fifth birthday, Sam got a cake and a stack of presents. The presents were badly wrapped, done up in tacky paper and scraps of Saturday morning comics. Inside each one was something that he could use for hunting, but that last one, the one that Dean told him later had been all dad’s idea, had nothing to do with their weird lifestyle. An honest-to-God toy, a little action figure from one of the cartoons he liked watching whenever they were allowed to sit around on a Saturday morning. Even now, Sam thinks that was one of the best birthdays of his entire life.
There was one time, when he’d come home from school with a test he’d aced, glowing and happy with accomplishment, his dad had patted him on the head and murmured “Good job, Sammy.” It was the only compliment his dad ever gave him about school.
Hunting was always something that was more like a chore than the fun that Dean and Dad thought it was. Still, the first time Sam used those skills he’d learned – without thinking, moving on instinct – and picked up a gun to save his brother’s life, the look his Dad gave him, full of pride and wonder, made Sam warm inside.
Sam’s best memory of his father is also the worst. Sometimes it’s hard to separate the pain from the happiness. Fucked up, true, but everything about their life has been. Always will be. Still, he’ll carry the memory of his dad coming out of Hell itself to help him and Dean until the day he dies.
END
Title: Five Times Sark Traveled to Sunnydale
Beta: LJ USer crazy_hatter13
The first time he set foot within Sunnydale’s city limits, his SIG Sauer a comfortable weight in its holster under his jacket, Julian Sark knew that the town was different. It pricked at the back of his neck, like eyes watching him everywhere he went. His current employer had paid handsomely for this job, however. And he was not about to turn tail and leave town simply because the place was… eerie. The mark was no one extraordinary, indeed he couldn’t see a single reason why anyone would want to kill a doctor at a small town hospital. Then again, he wasn’t paid to ask question. One bullet, to the head, and it was done.
When Irina asked him to retrieve an artifact from the Sunnydale Museum, Sark thought about the first time he’d been to the odd little town and the unsettled feeling it had left in him, but he did as he was told. Arguing with Irina was never a smart thing to do.
SD-6 wanted intel on a military base that had once lay beneath the quiet little town, so under Arvin Sloane’s orders, Sark went. The base was destroyed, nothing left. No way to even get inside of its secret depths. Sark cursed in hard, bitter Russian, and went back with his hands empty. He hated not getting what he wanted.
Once, someone paid for him to target a blonde girl, no more than twenty years old. Sark still wasn’t sure what happened with that, but none of his bullets would hit their mark. And when he looked at the red head standing next to her, he was almost sure that she was smirking at him. That was the second time he failed a mission in Sunnydale.
The last time he went to Sunnydale he had information at his fingertips, knowledge to understand what went on there, and a new mission. Make sure that the group stayed alive until they were out of the town. No one had warned him that the town might cave in. That he might not be able to do a single bloody thing to stop them from leaving with two fewer members than what they should have. Apparently the crucial pawns were still in play, however, and he was paid accordingly.
In the end, he was more than glad that the city was gone, destroyed. Too many failed missions within its limits rankled against his sensibilities. There weren’t many things that could give him nightmares; however the things that he knew about that place, those people, were close.
END
General Disclaimer: All fandoms belong to their individual copyright holders.
Okay, here's the first set of these. All are rated PG13 in this set.
Title: Five Secrets Teal’c Keeps About the Rest of his Team
Warnings: Mention of Jack/Daniel
Beta: LJ User Sierraphoenix
There are many customs of the Tau’ri that Teal’c has come to understand over his years fighting by their side. There are many more that he still does not and fears he never will. Still, when he walked in on SamCarter holding a riding crop with a young airman tied to her bed, he did not think twice about telling her he would not say a word to anyone.
Teal’c did not intend to be JonasQuinn’s confessor. The Kelownan did not tolerate Tau’ri alcoholic beverages well. What he learned that night, of an abusive father and a mother that self-medicated, would never see the light of day. JonasQuinn might not have been a part of his team long, but Teal’c would hold his secrets just like all others.
The realization that SamCarter holds feelings for O’Neill should have come as a shock after her indiscretion with the airman. She is unaware that he knows, and he has no plans to tell her otherwise. Not when he knows that it is a futile fantasy on her part -
Because he has seen DanielJackson with O’Neill, and knows that the two of them have something together that many would search their entire lives for. Teal’c also understands Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. He doesn’t ask. They don’t tell.
When the team changes, once again – new allies joining their ranks in the form of ColonelMitchell and the unlikely ValaMalDoran – Teal’c holds his secrets and adds new ones. ValaMalDoran is afraid of being alone, she confesses while drugged on PX3-948, and ColonelMitchell likes to ‘bat for both teams’. He is unsure what baseball has to do with anything; however, ColonelMitchell seemed quite insistent that he not mention this to anyone. Ever.
Teal’c never will.
END
Title: Five Good Memories Sam Winchester Has of His Father
Warnings: Slight mention of the end of All Hell Breaks Loose
Beta: LJ User Sierraphoenix
His earliest memory of his father is warm arms, a strong presence. Holding him tight, whispering that he loved him. That he would always try to keep him safe. Sam thinks that maybe he did do that, to his dying day, even if it didn’t always feel like it at the time.
For his fifth birthday, Sam got a cake and a stack of presents. The presents were badly wrapped, done up in tacky paper and scraps of Saturday morning comics. Inside each one was something that he could use for hunting, but that last one, the one that Dean told him later had been all dad’s idea, had nothing to do with their weird lifestyle. An honest-to-God toy, a little action figure from one of the cartoons he liked watching whenever they were allowed to sit around on a Saturday morning. Even now, Sam thinks that was one of the best birthdays of his entire life.
There was one time, when he’d come home from school with a test he’d aced, glowing and happy with accomplishment, his dad had patted him on the head and murmured “Good job, Sammy.” It was the only compliment his dad ever gave him about school.
Hunting was always something that was more like a chore than the fun that Dean and Dad thought it was. Still, the first time Sam used those skills he’d learned – without thinking, moving on instinct – and picked up a gun to save his brother’s life, the look his Dad gave him, full of pride and wonder, made Sam warm inside.
Sam’s best memory of his father is also the worst. Sometimes it’s hard to separate the pain from the happiness. Fucked up, true, but everything about their life has been. Always will be. Still, he’ll carry the memory of his dad coming out of Hell itself to help him and Dean until the day he dies.
END
Title: Five Times Sark Traveled to Sunnydale
Beta: LJ USer crazy_hatter13
The first time he set foot within Sunnydale’s city limits, his SIG Sauer a comfortable weight in its holster under his jacket, Julian Sark knew that the town was different. It pricked at the back of his neck, like eyes watching him everywhere he went. His current employer had paid handsomely for this job, however. And he was not about to turn tail and leave town simply because the place was… eerie. The mark was no one extraordinary, indeed he couldn’t see a single reason why anyone would want to kill a doctor at a small town hospital. Then again, he wasn’t paid to ask question. One bullet, to the head, and it was done.
When Irina asked him to retrieve an artifact from the Sunnydale Museum, Sark thought about the first time he’d been to the odd little town and the unsettled feeling it had left in him, but he did as he was told. Arguing with Irina was never a smart thing to do.
SD-6 wanted intel on a military base that had once lay beneath the quiet little town, so under Arvin Sloane’s orders, Sark went. The base was destroyed, nothing left. No way to even get inside of its secret depths. Sark cursed in hard, bitter Russian, and went back with his hands empty. He hated not getting what he wanted.
Once, someone paid for him to target a blonde girl, no more than twenty years old. Sark still wasn’t sure what happened with that, but none of his bullets would hit their mark. And when he looked at the red head standing next to her, he was almost sure that she was smirking at him. That was the second time he failed a mission in Sunnydale.
The last time he went to Sunnydale he had information at his fingertips, knowledge to understand what went on there, and a new mission. Make sure that the group stayed alive until they were out of the town. No one had warned him that the town might cave in. That he might not be able to do a single bloody thing to stop them from leaving with two fewer members than what they should have. Apparently the crucial pawns were still in play, however, and he was paid accordingly.
In the end, he was more than glad that the city was gone, destroyed. Too many failed missions within its limits rankled against his sensibilities. There weren’t many things that could give him nightmares; however the things that he knew about that place, those people, were close.
END
