Words: 519 (of 11,492)
Pairing/Charecter(s): Ancient!John; John/Rodney
Warnings/Spoliers:part 1 of #10 in the Ancient!John 'verse (falls after "Nomen" but before "Fratres et Sorores"); takes place between "The Siege," part III, and "The Intruder," and contains spoliers for "McKay and Mrs. Miller" as well as all SG1 episodes through "Mobius"
Disclaimer: All characters, situations, quotes et al are properties of their respective owners and I am merely using them under Title 17 of the US Code, § 107, aka the Fair Use Doctrine, without intents to infringe upon or defame anyone's legal rights.
Summary: Terra isn't what Iohannes expected.
Notes: So, the plan was a nice, long fic for Iohannes on Earth. But it's coming out more like a series of Iohanes on Earth-related vingettes, and possibly a longer visiting-the-Millers chunk. IDK how long this will turn out to be, but here's pars una. PS. Advena means Foriegner as this installment is called such in tribute to CJ Cherryh's wonderful series of the same name (and somewhat similar theme).
An Ancient!John Story
He could ignore the dreams on Atlantis. It was easy there. He had too much to do – try to track down a charged potentia, defend the city from the Wraith, restore the city to her former glory, et cetera et cetera – to pay much attention to the dreams that plagued him endlessly, especially when he could barely remember them on waking.
It's harder on Terra though. Atlantis isn't here, for one, to soothe him with her song or yell at him when she thinks he's being an idiot. He can't even wander the halls aimlessly because, try as he might, he can't ignore the armed guards who've been assigned to escort him from meeting to meeting until the Terran government can do an adequate risk assessment on his presence in this galaxy, or the endless stretches of concrete, broken only by doors you have to open manually and the occasional self-aggrandizing placard.
Here it's just easier to sulk in his guest quarters, one of those awful doors separating him from the eyes of his watchdogs, even if it forces him to think overmuch on the dreams he cannot help but remember here, with little else to occupy him. Dreams of a silence so loud the memory of it echoes in his ears.
To this end, Iohannes is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to avoid sleep (or thinking about sleep, or dreams, or how much he hates these stone walls, or how good it would be to see the ocean again) when there's a knock at the door.
(The first time this happened Iohannes hadn't realized it for what it was and his hands had gone for the gun that wasn't strapped to his thigh, as it would have been if he was at home, with people who trust him implicitly. He's still not used to its missing weight.)
There's another knock but Iohannes makes no more move to answer it than he did the first. He may be going stir-crazy, staying in this room with his dark thoughts, but it's better than the alternative. The Terrans outside his door may not have deified his race but they've surely sanctified it, thinking The Ancients, as they still insist on calling them, to have been far better people than they actually were. As if scientific and moral advancement went hand-in-hand.
Doctor Jackson, oddly enough, is the most insistent in this belief – a fact that Iohannes finds desperately worrisome considering he's the one (or so he's been told) who spent a year Ascended. It's probably him at Iohannes' door now, come to ask once more about about details of Alteran history Iohannes himself can't give a damn about, not even now, when he's the last Alteran in the universe. The worst part of it all is that it's so clear that the other man means well and is so excited to meet a real, live Ancient that he's not realized his questions aren't welcome.
The knocking eventually stops and Iohannes continues to stare at the ceiling, waiting for this terrible eternity to end.
Continue on to Pars Dua