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Mar. 8th, 2005 12:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
history_gurlThis is my first foray into SGA fanfic, originally written for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sga_flashfic First Night Challenge. It has been beta'd for grammar and style, but not for characterization, so I hope it stands up well. Sheppard POV.
Title: These Hands
Author: hg
Rating: G
These Hands
by hg
Major John Sheppard sat silently, hands stretched out before him. His dark hair spiked in disarray, as his shadowed eyes darted away, bouncing over sleek walls and an empty floor. The bed beneath him was military neat, and Sheppard tried to remember when he’d had time to stow his kit. As his thoughts drifted to time, and how it had been filled since his arrival in Atlantis, his gaze returned to his hands.
Elbows balanced on his thighs, tendons stark in his wrists, Sheppard’s hands betrayed no tremor as they filled his vision. These hands had confidently manned the controls of Cobras, Apaches, anything that went up and went fast. They had cradled weapons that shot straight and hard. They had clutched the arms of an Ancient chair and shifted reality. Sheppard stared at the calluses, the faint scars, his life written in a language few understood.
A slight noise in the corridor outside his room drew Sheppard’s eyes to the door of his room; the noise signaled the end of the “Welcome-to-Atlantis-aren’t-you-amazed-we-didn’t-die” party as the stragglers headed to their own rooms. A rueful grimace crossed Sheppard’s face as he looked back to his hands, and the two objects perched upon them. His gaze ricocheted between the coin and the spent shell casing, and John Sheppard remembered, and marveled at the work of his hands.
Oh, and big thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
noctudiae for the icon.
sga_flashfic First Night Challenge. It has been beta'd for grammar and style, but not for characterization, so I hope it stands up well. Sheppard POV.Title: These Hands
Author: hg
Rating: G
These Hands
by hg
Major John Sheppard sat silently, hands stretched out before him. His dark hair spiked in disarray, as his shadowed eyes darted away, bouncing over sleek walls and an empty floor. The bed beneath him was military neat, and Sheppard tried to remember when he’d had time to stow his kit. As his thoughts drifted to time, and how it had been filled since his arrival in Atlantis, his gaze returned to his hands.
Elbows balanced on his thighs, tendons stark in his wrists, Sheppard’s hands betrayed no tremor as they filled his vision. These hands had confidently manned the controls of Cobras, Apaches, anything that went up and went fast. They had cradled weapons that shot straight and hard. They had clutched the arms of an Ancient chair and shifted reality. Sheppard stared at the calluses, the faint scars, his life written in a language few understood.
A slight noise in the corridor outside his room drew Sheppard’s eyes to the door of his room; the noise signaled the end of the “Welcome-to-Atlantis-aren’t-you-amazed-we-didn’t-die” party as the stragglers headed to their own rooms. A rueful grimace crossed Sheppard’s face as he looked back to his hands, and the two objects perched upon them. His gaze ricocheted between the coin and the spent shell casing, and John Sheppard remembered, and marveled at the work of his hands.
Oh, and big thanks to
noctudiae for the icon.