Switch, 2/?
Dec. 14th, 2007 09:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fiercelydreamedFor those of you who like header information, we're batting a PG-13 right now for language, and you can expect the rating to climb in later sections.
*
"I'm ... really not a man," Jo says. Less than five minutes into the discussion, and she's about out of ways to rephrase it.
"No," Keller says, who's clearly also at the fraying edge of her patience. "I mean, yes, you are, but no, right now you're not, and we're still trying to figure out--"
"I don't mean now," she interrupts, cutting a hand through the air between them, "I mean ever." She glances toward the peanut gallery -- yep, still there, still staring -- and aims the next statement in their general direction. "And I may be kind of confused right now, but I'm pretty sure that's because you're all being very confusing."
At the front of the pack, Carter nods once and pushes the curtain back in a matter-of-fact motion. "I won't deny that something very strange has happened," she says, moving to stand next to Jo. Her voice is calm and her gaze is steady on Jo's face, and Jo is uncomfortably aware of her bare knees and bony shins hanging off the bed just inside Carter's personal space. "But the rest of us are all very clear on who we think you are, John."
She puts a gentle emphasis into the name, like if they keep saying it it's going to jog Jo's memory: oh, that's right, I'm not a woman after all. Sorry, my bad. Jo pushes herself off the cot and onto the ground, regretting it almost immediately as the breeze comes venting up her back, but she straightens to her full height anyway. She knows it gives away just how pissed off she's getting, but she's naked under a hospital gown with her boss and her primary care physician contesting her sense of reality and she thinks she's got a right to be more than a little ticked.
"Sheppard, Josephine F.," she recites, laying into the consonants and tilting her head just enough to emphasize that even without her boots on, she's still more than half a foot taller than Carter. "Lieutenant-Colonel, United States Air Force. 419-34-8407--" and she's ready to keep going: born February 23rd, 1969, Maxwell Air Force Base, to Captain Harold Cole Sheppard and Dr. Ada Marie Sheppard, do the whole summary page of her personnel file word for word, but just then Rodney lifts his forehead about an inch out of the cradle of his hand and says, "That's the right number."
"Rodney?" Carter asks, turning toward him.
Hunched in his metal chair, Rodney doesn't look up, just repeats it. "That's the right number. I've heard him give it before."
Looking at him, Jo thinks, M4J-583, and then, god, that sucked. She opens her mouth to say something like, yeah, sorry about that, in a wry tone she knows he can read as sincere (she's over that one, but she's pretty sure he's not), and that's when she hears his sentence properly. I've heard him give it before. Him, and it knocks the wind out of her: hearing him say it like she's someone else to him, like she's spent the last year having sex with him and now it turns out that he spent it having sex with somebody else.
"Major Lorne," Carter is saying into her radio, "can you have someone run the file of Colonel Sheppard's ID info over to the infirmary? The one with the hard copies of the photos, that's right. Thanks."
"Great idea," Jo says, jerking her gaze away from Rodney and back to Carter, "say, you mind if I put my clothes back on while we're waiting?"
Carter looks at her for a moment and then turns to look at Keller, and when exactly did Jo start needing two levels of clearance to put on some goddamn pants? The only reason she doesn't stride out to go find them herself is that she doesn't want them to know it's bothering her that much, plus she's pretty sure the gown will flap open in the back if she walks at anywhere near her usual speed.
"Physically, there's nothing wrong with him -- other than the obvious, I mean," Keller says to Carter with a shrug, and there it is again, that him, like Jo isn't standing right here in front of them.
Carter gives Jo one of those measuring looks and then says, "Maxine, can you bring Colonel Sheppard's clothes, please?" Jo sighs and runs a hand through her hair, and then one of the nurses steps in and sets Jo's neatly folded uniform on the cot. Jo gives that fake smile that's really a grimace and walks around Carter to the end of the cot. She can feel Teyla and Ronon's gazes fixed on her, and she's uncomfortably aware that Rodney hasn't fully looked in her direction since he took his seat at the far wall.
Keller and Carter are both watching her with strangely expectant faces, and Jo, who spent most of her life trying not to draw scrutiny, is ready for everyone to quit staring at her any second now. "Tell you what," she says, drawing the curtain back to let them out in a gesture that isn't actually all that courteous, "if I see anything in here I don't recognize, I'll let you know."
Once she's flipped the curtain shut behind them, she turns around and grabs her shirt by its shoulders, and then her fingers twist down hard around the fabric. This is her fourth year in Pegasus -- she's made seven trips between two different galaxies, had her life pulled from her in pieces and then felt it burn back in again, died once, cheated death a hell of a lot more times than that, and felt ships the size of cities wake under her touch. Still, she has to close her eyes for a moment and think, seriously, what the fuck.
Then she opens her eyes again and gets dressed.
*
[All installments archived here.]
*
"I'm ... really not a man," Jo says. Less than five minutes into the discussion, and she's about out of ways to rephrase it.
"No," Keller says, who's clearly also at the fraying edge of her patience. "I mean, yes, you are, but no, right now you're not, and we're still trying to figure out--"
"I don't mean now," she interrupts, cutting a hand through the air between them, "I mean ever." She glances toward the peanut gallery -- yep, still there, still staring -- and aims the next statement in their general direction. "And I may be kind of confused right now, but I'm pretty sure that's because you're all being very confusing."
At the front of the pack, Carter nods once and pushes the curtain back in a matter-of-fact motion. "I won't deny that something very strange has happened," she says, moving to stand next to Jo. Her voice is calm and her gaze is steady on Jo's face, and Jo is uncomfortably aware of her bare knees and bony shins hanging off the bed just inside Carter's personal space. "But the rest of us are all very clear on who we think you are, John."
She puts a gentle emphasis into the name, like if they keep saying it it's going to jog Jo's memory: oh, that's right, I'm not a woman after all. Sorry, my bad. Jo pushes herself off the cot and onto the ground, regretting it almost immediately as the breeze comes venting up her back, but she straightens to her full height anyway. She knows it gives away just how pissed off she's getting, but she's naked under a hospital gown with her boss and her primary care physician contesting her sense of reality and she thinks she's got a right to be more than a little ticked.
"Sheppard, Josephine F.," she recites, laying into the consonants and tilting her head just enough to emphasize that even without her boots on, she's still more than half a foot taller than Carter. "Lieutenant-Colonel, United States Air Force. 419-34-8407--" and she's ready to keep going: born February 23rd, 1969, Maxwell Air Force Base, to Captain Harold Cole Sheppard and Dr. Ada Marie Sheppard, do the whole summary page of her personnel file word for word, but just then Rodney lifts his forehead about an inch out of the cradle of his hand and says, "That's the right number."
"Rodney?" Carter asks, turning toward him.
Hunched in his metal chair, Rodney doesn't look up, just repeats it. "That's the right number. I've heard him give it before."
Looking at him, Jo thinks, M4J-583, and then, god, that sucked. She opens her mouth to say something like, yeah, sorry about that, in a wry tone she knows he can read as sincere (she's over that one, but she's pretty sure he's not), and that's when she hears his sentence properly. I've heard him give it before. Him, and it knocks the wind out of her: hearing him say it like she's someone else to him, like she's spent the last year having sex with him and now it turns out that he spent it having sex with somebody else.
"Major Lorne," Carter is saying into her radio, "can you have someone run the file of Colonel Sheppard's ID info over to the infirmary? The one with the hard copies of the photos, that's right. Thanks."
"Great idea," Jo says, jerking her gaze away from Rodney and back to Carter, "say, you mind if I put my clothes back on while we're waiting?"
Carter looks at her for a moment and then turns to look at Keller, and when exactly did Jo start needing two levels of clearance to put on some goddamn pants? The only reason she doesn't stride out to go find them herself is that she doesn't want them to know it's bothering her that much, plus she's pretty sure the gown will flap open in the back if she walks at anywhere near her usual speed.
"Physically, there's nothing wrong with him -- other than the obvious, I mean," Keller says to Carter with a shrug, and there it is again, that him, like Jo isn't standing right here in front of them.
Carter gives Jo one of those measuring looks and then says, "Maxine, can you bring Colonel Sheppard's clothes, please?" Jo sighs and runs a hand through her hair, and then one of the nurses steps in and sets Jo's neatly folded uniform on the cot. Jo gives that fake smile that's really a grimace and walks around Carter to the end of the cot. She can feel Teyla and Ronon's gazes fixed on her, and she's uncomfortably aware that Rodney hasn't fully looked in her direction since he took his seat at the far wall.
Keller and Carter are both watching her with strangely expectant faces, and Jo, who spent most of her life trying not to draw scrutiny, is ready for everyone to quit staring at her any second now. "Tell you what," she says, drawing the curtain back to let them out in a gesture that isn't actually all that courteous, "if I see anything in here I don't recognize, I'll let you know."
Once she's flipped the curtain shut behind them, she turns around and grabs her shirt by its shoulders, and then her fingers twist down hard around the fabric. This is her fourth year in Pegasus -- she's made seven trips between two different galaxies, had her life pulled from her in pieces and then felt it burn back in again, died once, cheated death a hell of a lot more times than that, and felt ships the size of cities wake under her touch. Still, she has to close her eyes for a moment and think, seriously, what the fuck.
Then she opens her eyes again and gets dressed.
*
[All installments archived here.]