Farimeade by N Y Smith (R)
Mar. 2nd, 2008 06:28 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
vickysg1.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
stargateficrecHey there! I'm your Sheppard/Weir reccer for March! So here's a first fic.
Rec Category: John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
Category: Alternate Universe, Angst, Romance
Warning: adult themes, minor language
Author on LJ: unknown
Author's Website: N/A
Link: Fairmeade
Why This Must Be Read: This is probably one of the first John/Elizabeth fic I've read, and I'm very fond of it. But, and more importantly, it's really well-written, the characters are well in-character. Also, in this fic, Atlantis has absolutely no contact with Earth which means that they're still on their own, but that didn't prevent them from thinking about what Earth would think.
An older woman joined them. She had a creamy complexion but the same titian hair although hers was threaded with white that gleamed against a starched gray wimple. She, too, wore dark robes with a bright sash different from the gentleman and, after a short conversation of pleasant- sounding growls with their guide she raised her hand in the same greeting, but her voice was a burry whisper. "Welcome, travelers, to the Kirk of Fairmeade. I am Mother Glynna M'Gough."
"Major John Sheppard." He matched his volume to hers.
"Lieutenant Aiden Ford."
"Corporal Joshua Keen."
"You are just in time for Holy Mass. Would you join us? Our congregation is open to all."
John Sheppard's mind listed in that instant a million reasons to decline but the aroma of incense and the comforting cadence of the liturgy caused him to follow his soul. "Thank you."
Unsnapping his weapon from its lanyard but keeping it at the ready in his left hand, and waiting for his team to do the same, he stepped into the aisle, genuflecting for the first time in many years before standing behind the last worshipers. The soldier in him protested, cited the tactical disadvantage even the possible insult of participating in a religious ceremony on a foreign planet. But the boy in him terrified and repulsed at the horrors he had seen and the many, many sins he had commtted-- longed for the comfort of the liturgy and the solace of the sacraments. Decades and galaxies away from his last absolution, he followed the other worshipers up the aisle, each footfall a sin confessed so that, head bowed before the priest, he accepted the Elements with an unabsolved, but penitent, heart. Tears welled in his eyes at the Benediction, but he wiped them away lest his team should see them.
"Come, travelers," the nun swept her hand toward the door. "Now that we've fed your souls, we should feed your bodies."
"Well, actually, ma'am," Sheppard began, "Mother," he corrected himself, "we're here to see whoever's in charge."
"Then you're in luck," she smiled, "he dines with us, as well."
Lifting the front of her robes a hand's-width from the ground, she scurried across the road to a tall house, pausing at the door, beckoning that they follow.
"I guess we eat," Sheppard said wryly.
"She sounds like Beckett," Ford grinned.
"Let's hope she doesn't cook like him," Keen mumbled.
Rec Category: John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
Category: Alternate Universe, Angst, Romance
Warning: adult themes, minor language
Author on LJ: unknown
Author's Website: N/A
Link: Fairmeade
Why This Must Be Read: This is probably one of the first John/Elizabeth fic I've read, and I'm very fond of it. But, and more importantly, it's really well-written, the characters are well in-character. Also, in this fic, Atlantis has absolutely no contact with Earth which means that they're still on their own, but that didn't prevent them from thinking about what Earth would think.
An older woman joined them. She had a creamy complexion but the same titian hair although hers was threaded with white that gleamed against a starched gray wimple. She, too, wore dark robes with a bright sash different from the gentleman and, after a short conversation of pleasant- sounding growls with their guide she raised her hand in the same greeting, but her voice was a burry whisper. "Welcome, travelers, to the Kirk of Fairmeade. I am Mother Glynna M'Gough."
"Major John Sheppard." He matched his volume to hers.
"Lieutenant Aiden Ford."
"Corporal Joshua Keen."
"You are just in time for Holy Mass. Would you join us? Our congregation is open to all."
John Sheppard's mind listed in that instant a million reasons to decline but the aroma of incense and the comforting cadence of the liturgy caused him to follow his soul. "Thank you."
Unsnapping his weapon from its lanyard but keeping it at the ready in his left hand, and waiting for his team to do the same, he stepped into the aisle, genuflecting for the first time in many years before standing behind the last worshipers. The soldier in him protested, cited the tactical disadvantage even the possible insult of participating in a religious ceremony on a foreign planet. But the boy in him terrified and repulsed at the horrors he had seen and the many, many sins he had commtted-- longed for the comfort of the liturgy and the solace of the sacraments. Decades and galaxies away from his last absolution, he followed the other worshipers up the aisle, each footfall a sin confessed so that, head bowed before the priest, he accepted the Elements with an unabsolved, but penitent, heart. Tears welled in his eyes at the Benediction, but he wiped them away lest his team should see them.
"Come, travelers," the nun swept her hand toward the door. "Now that we've fed your souls, we should feed your bodies."
"Well, actually, ma'am," Sheppard began, "Mother," he corrected himself, "we're here to see whoever's in charge."
"Then you're in luck," she smiled, "he dines with us, as well."
Lifting the front of her robes a hand's-width from the ground, she scurried across the road to a tall house, pausing at the door, beckoning that they follow.
"I guess we eat," Sheppard said wryly.
"She sounds like Beckett," Ford grinned.
"Let's hope she doesn't cook like him," Keen mumbled.
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