stargateficrec | The New Frontier by harriet

Rec Category: Original Character
Pairing: None
Category: Apocafic, Drama, Angst, Gen, Alternate Universe, John Sheppard, Original Character, Action-adventure
Warning: Past major character deaths implied, violence, use of the Sergio Leone canon tropes
Author on LJ: http://harriet-spy.livejournal.com/
Author's Website: http://www.aliencorn.net/
Link: http://www.aliencorn.net/stories/new.html

Why This Must Be Read: I was shocked to discover this oldie but goodie hasn't been recommended here. It's beautifully written with a movingly hopeful end and one of the best fanfic original characters and outsider narrators I've read. Anjora, Anjie to friends, is a Scout Finch level brilliant OC, a master lesson on using subtext and an unreliable narrator. I must admit I cry every time I read this AU/mystery/western.

In The New Frontier, a stranger rides into town six years after the end of the Wraith War and is persuaded by the father of Anjie, an intrigued young girl, to stay a while and work on his farm. The author cleverly transplants the traditional western movie plot (the mysterious drifter comes to a small town, helps the townspeople stand up to the local villains and then moves on again) into Pegasus, subverting the conventions of the genre to highlight the alien-ness of the setting and how little John belongs there or perhaps anywhere. As Anjie observes the fascinatingly mysterious John struggling with his past, the reader, with the privilege of prior knowledge, gradually realizes what must have happened to him.

The spare prose and flashes of humor and tragedy are typical of this author. Her characterization of John, broken and grieving for who and what he has lost, rings heartbreakingly true. Teyla never directly appears in The New Frontier yet John and the reader are haunted relentlessly by her; nonetheless, this is gen and possible pairings, if any, are left up to interpretation. I love how John bonds with the girl, who reminds him a little of Teyla, teaching her how to bantos fight and bringing some American-style/Teyla-inspired feminism into her life. In return, Anjie helps him heal a little. I can’t urge you enough to read this story and everything else the author’s written.

A snippet of fic....

He rode into our valley six years after the end of the war. I was just a kid, sitting on the fence and watching the dusty road that wound down from the blue-grey mountains, waiting for something to happen. Nothing ever seemed to happen back then, especially not to an eleven-year-old girl. I didn't know when I first saw him that he would be what I had been waiting for. From a distance, he looked like just another horseman. There was a lot more traffic on the road than there had been when we first moved there; people were really starting to believe that the Wraith might be gone for good and venturing out to claim long-abandoned lands to ranch or farm. It was only when he got closer that I noticed he was different.
It was his clothes that first caught my eye. Even though it was a hot day, he was wearing all black. His shirt was faded almost to grey, and awkwardly patched in two or three places, but his pants were of a darker, glossier material that I had never seen before. He wasn't wearing a hat against the sun, so I could see his face, which looked grim and wary. He was slouched in the saddle, like he was tired of riding, but his eyes moved constantly, taking in everything nearby with an attention that seemed casual but I suspected meant he picked up every detail. They rested on me for just a second and then moved on.
I felt vaguely disappointed, but as he passed our house, he slowed and looked up. "Could I get a chance at your pump for my horse?" he asked, gazing past me.
I realized he wasn't talking to me and turned my head. Father was standing on the porch, studying him. "Take all you want, stranger."
"Thanks."
The man dismounted from his horse and led him to our pump. He watered the horse, then took the cup and filled it for himself, flicking water over his face and hair to get rid of some of the dust. Even while he was scrubbing his hand over his face, though, he never quite relaxed; he always seemed intensely conscious of us, and I was sure he knew every move I made, even though I was behind him. I saw that on top of his saddleroll were tied two long sticks, smooth and polished despite the dust of the road, and I wondered what they were for.
"Thanks again," he said, nodded to me, and turned to go.
"Don't be in such a hurry, stranger," Father said.
The man tensed, and put his hand on one of the sticks. "What do you want?"
"Supper will be ready soon. You're welcome to join us."
Father believed in the old ways, including hospitality to strangers. He used to say that you never knew when the Wraith would come and you'd find yourself the stranger. People were already starting to forget those ways, but not in our house.
"That's nice of you, but I should be going."
"Look up." Father pointed. "There's a storm sweeping down into the valley. I don't think you'd care for the road in half an hour or so, and not everyone on your way has room to shelter a stranger."
The man looked hard at Father, who met his eyes steadily. He was thin, not like Father, who was short and powerfully built, but you could see the bulge of muscles beneath the sleeves of his shirt. His hair was dark and spiky, as if he hadn't tended to it in days, and his eyes were hazel. There were crinkles around them, and a dusting of grey at his temples, but otherwise I couldn't have guessed his age. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it. "All right."
"My name is Anogan," Father said, offering his hand. "This is my daughter, Anjora. Anjie to friends."
The man took it. "Call me John."