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Not a Free Cell - Stargate: Atlantis - Gen (John Sheppard) - Words: 1,349
Written for Mundane Bingo; Prompt: Solitaire
Summary: John finds it odd that he's able to be bored in an off-world jail.
Content Notes: Brief Captivity. G.
On AO3: Not a Free Cell
At the time, John had thought General O'Neill was crazy. He'd been told that General O'Neill was crazy, that all of those years on SG-1 saving Earth and going head to head with the Goa'uld had driven him around the bend. But John hadn't believed it until he'd opened the box labeled 'necessary gear for off-world teams' that had been snuck through the 'gate with the rest of the boxes that were heading to Atlantis. Surely they wouldn't have made someone who was crazy a General, except he now had hard evidence that they had.
Now though, John was just grateful that the General had thought to include the box and that John himself had taken it seriously enough to place things in the vests and packs of his team members. Obviously, someone who'd been off-world more times than just about anyone knew what they needed.
General O'Neill had included golf pencils and tiny books of sudoku, mini bars of chocolate, floss, wrapped moist-towelettes like they handed out on airplanes, and that was only the beginning of what had been in that box. John had tried to distribute things evenly so that each team had a variety of things, and more than once a team member had come back and told him how something simple like using tweezers to pull out a jammed piece of a machine had saved their lives, or giving a piece of candy to a child had endeared them to the population of a village.
John felt around in his tac-vest, trying to find what he knew he'd placed in there only a few weeks before. He'd already gone through the entire cell, checking that the walls were secure and the door and window couldn't possibly be opened from the inside. He'd shouted angrily, kicked through the pile of hay in the corner, and checked the bucket half-filled with water for anything he could use to escape. Now, there was nothing left to do but wait for his team to come rescue him. He checked his watch and figured that they should be coming anywhere in the next two hours, though probably not for at least an hour. The odd villagers, who had thick enough accents that John could only understand one word in five, had hauled him for about thirty minutes before shoving him into the surprisingly secure jail cell in the middle of nowhere.
"Aha," John said. He triumphantly pulled what he'd been looking for out of his vest, opened the box, and began to shuffle; making sure to remove the jokers and tuck them back into his vest before he got started.
He dusted a space on the hard-packed dirt floor and began to lay the cards out in piles, each pile progressively larger and flipping over the top card as he started the next layer. On the first layer he had a group of alternating face cards, which he quickly piled and put in the empty first slot. He smiled a little bit as the cards slipped against each other in uneven lines, too used to playing cards on the computer to really remember the feel of cards in his hands. He had significantly less luck with the cards he flipped over and started on his draw pile, turning them over by threes.
The first game stalled out with only one ace at the top and he quickly gathered up the cards and shuffled again. He glanced up at the window and tried to gauge where the sun had been when he'd been put in the cell before remembering that he still had his watch to check the time with. Usually, when they were captured, the guards stripped them of everything useful, sometimes even boots and jackets. The only thing they'd taken this time was his weapons.
He dealt the cards again, shifting on the hard floor. He turned up all red cards, but also an ace from the start. The hand went slowly at first, but as he found more cards to alternate he managed to move two aces, the heart and the diamond, to the top. A few minutes later he found both of the other aces and cackled triumphantly; that wasn't so hard after all. Unfortunately, his thoughts of victory were short lived when he couldn't get to the two of diamonds, even after peeking to find out where it was. Gathering up the cards, he began to shuffle again, his eyes flickering to the window every minute or so and his ears constantly on alert.
After the seventh game, John started to get a little irritated both with his team and the game. Wasn't solitaire on the computer much easier than this? And, it had been almost ninety minutes, his team should have found him by now, unless they'd run into trouble as well. John paced for a few minutes before gather up the cards again and dealing another hand. He managed to lose that game too, only finding three of the aces before running out of moves.
The sun was moving to where it was angled away from the window, leaving John enough light to see where he was going, but not enough to make out the numbers and shapes on the cards. He shuffled them once more and put them away, tucking the box back into his vest. At least he hadn't had to spend the entire time alone with his thoughts. John settled into a slow pace before sitting down when it grew completely dark, not wanting to hurt himself by falling. He sat so that he could see both the window and the door; waiting for someone, hopefully his team, to come and find him.
He dozed lightly, knowing that he wouldn't really be able to fall into a deep sleep without someone from his team to stand watch.
The sway of lights outside the window got John's attention and he leapt to his feet, keeping to the side of the cell until he could figure out if it was his team or someone more dangerous. The door creaked open and John readied himself to attack. When no one came inside for more than a minute, he crept forward, ready as he could be to make a break for it and run back to the 'gate.
"John?"
John relaxed minutely as he recognized Teyla's voice. "Teyla? Everything alright?" he called.
"Everything is fine, John. Why don't you come out?" Teyla responded.
John analyzed Teyla's voice for a moment before deciding that things really were okay. He had heard Teyla in enough bad situations to know what she sounded like when she was under duress.
He crept out, still cautious, and accepted his weapons back from one of the guards. His entire team was with the village guards, standing around like nothing was wrong.
"How was your meditation session?" Teyla asked, in a voice that meant that she was leading him through the appropriate conversation. Oddly enough, John seemed to be the only one on their team that was able to follow Teyla when she did this; Rodney just said whatever it was that he'd been planning on saying anyway, and Ford gave Teyla wide eyes that meant that he knew that he was supposed to say something but he didn't know what.
"It was very, enlightening," John settled on, though the mild glare he gave with the forced smile was enough to tell his team that he had no idea that he should have been meditating.
"Excellent," the guard who had dragged John to the cell said. "Now that you have centered your being you are prepared to engage in trade with our community. Please come with us."
John gave his best winsome smile and walked with the guards and his team back to the village, the guard's lanterns and Rodney and Ford's flashlights lighting the way back. Some days there just wasn't a discernible difference between being held captive and a 'relaxing' session of meditation, and if that didn't say just about everything about the Pegasus galaxy, John didn't know what would.
Written for Mundane Bingo; Prompt: Solitaire
Summary: John finds it odd that he's able to be bored in an off-world jail.
Content Notes: Brief Captivity. G.
On AO3: Not a Free Cell
At the time, John had thought General O'Neill was crazy. He'd been told that General O'Neill was crazy, that all of those years on SG-1 saving Earth and going head to head with the Goa'uld had driven him around the bend. But John hadn't believed it until he'd opened the box labeled 'necessary gear for off-world teams' that had been snuck through the 'gate with the rest of the boxes that were heading to Atlantis. Surely they wouldn't have made someone who was crazy a General, except he now had hard evidence that they had.
Now though, John was just grateful that the General had thought to include the box and that John himself had taken it seriously enough to place things in the vests and packs of his team members. Obviously, someone who'd been off-world more times than just about anyone knew what they needed.
General O'Neill had included golf pencils and tiny books of sudoku, mini bars of chocolate, floss, wrapped moist-towelettes like they handed out on airplanes, and that was only the beginning of what had been in that box. John had tried to distribute things evenly so that each team had a variety of things, and more than once a team member had come back and told him how something simple like using tweezers to pull out a jammed piece of a machine had saved their lives, or giving a piece of candy to a child had endeared them to the population of a village.
John felt around in his tac-vest, trying to find what he knew he'd placed in there only a few weeks before. He'd already gone through the entire cell, checking that the walls were secure and the door and window couldn't possibly be opened from the inside. He'd shouted angrily, kicked through the pile of hay in the corner, and checked the bucket half-filled with water for anything he could use to escape. Now, there was nothing left to do but wait for his team to come rescue him. He checked his watch and figured that they should be coming anywhere in the next two hours, though probably not for at least an hour. The odd villagers, who had thick enough accents that John could only understand one word in five, had hauled him for about thirty minutes before shoving him into the surprisingly secure jail cell in the middle of nowhere.
"Aha," John said. He triumphantly pulled what he'd been looking for out of his vest, opened the box, and began to shuffle; making sure to remove the jokers and tuck them back into his vest before he got started.
He dusted a space on the hard-packed dirt floor and began to lay the cards out in piles, each pile progressively larger and flipping over the top card as he started the next layer. On the first layer he had a group of alternating face cards, which he quickly piled and put in the empty first slot. He smiled a little bit as the cards slipped against each other in uneven lines, too used to playing cards on the computer to really remember the feel of cards in his hands. He had significantly less luck with the cards he flipped over and started on his draw pile, turning them over by threes.
The first game stalled out with only one ace at the top and he quickly gathered up the cards and shuffled again. He glanced up at the window and tried to gauge where the sun had been when he'd been put in the cell before remembering that he still had his watch to check the time with. Usually, when they were captured, the guards stripped them of everything useful, sometimes even boots and jackets. The only thing they'd taken this time was his weapons.
He dealt the cards again, shifting on the hard floor. He turned up all red cards, but also an ace from the start. The hand went slowly at first, but as he found more cards to alternate he managed to move two aces, the heart and the diamond, to the top. A few minutes later he found both of the other aces and cackled triumphantly; that wasn't so hard after all. Unfortunately, his thoughts of victory were short lived when he couldn't get to the two of diamonds, even after peeking to find out where it was. Gathering up the cards, he began to shuffle again, his eyes flickering to the window every minute or so and his ears constantly on alert.
After the seventh game, John started to get a little irritated both with his team and the game. Wasn't solitaire on the computer much easier than this? And, it had been almost ninety minutes, his team should have found him by now, unless they'd run into trouble as well. John paced for a few minutes before gather up the cards again and dealing another hand. He managed to lose that game too, only finding three of the aces before running out of moves.
The sun was moving to where it was angled away from the window, leaving John enough light to see where he was going, but not enough to make out the numbers and shapes on the cards. He shuffled them once more and put them away, tucking the box back into his vest. At least he hadn't had to spend the entire time alone with his thoughts. John settled into a slow pace before sitting down when it grew completely dark, not wanting to hurt himself by falling. He sat so that he could see both the window and the door; waiting for someone, hopefully his team, to come and find him.
He dozed lightly, knowing that he wouldn't really be able to fall into a deep sleep without someone from his team to stand watch.
The sway of lights outside the window got John's attention and he leapt to his feet, keeping to the side of the cell until he could figure out if it was his team or someone more dangerous. The door creaked open and John readied himself to attack. When no one came inside for more than a minute, he crept forward, ready as he could be to make a break for it and run back to the 'gate.
"John?"
John relaxed minutely as he recognized Teyla's voice. "Teyla? Everything alright?" he called.
"Everything is fine, John. Why don't you come out?" Teyla responded.
John analyzed Teyla's voice for a moment before deciding that things really were okay. He had heard Teyla in enough bad situations to know what she sounded like when she was under duress.
He crept out, still cautious, and accepted his weapons back from one of the guards. His entire team was with the village guards, standing around like nothing was wrong.
"How was your meditation session?" Teyla asked, in a voice that meant that she was leading him through the appropriate conversation. Oddly enough, John seemed to be the only one on their team that was able to follow Teyla when she did this; Rodney just said whatever it was that he'd been planning on saying anyway, and Ford gave Teyla wide eyes that meant that he knew that he was supposed to say something but he didn't know what.
"It was very, enlightening," John settled on, though the mild glare he gave with the forced smile was enough to tell his team that he had no idea that he should have been meditating.
"Excellent," the guard who had dragged John to the cell said. "Now that you have centered your being you are prepared to engage in trade with our community. Please come with us."
John gave his best winsome smile and walked with the guards and his team back to the village, the guard's lanterns and Rodney and Ford's flashlights lighting the way back. Some days there just wasn't a discernible difference between being held captive and a 'relaxing' session of meditation, and if that didn't say just about everything about the Pegasus galaxy, John didn't know what would.
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