D is for Diner, by Resurgamlaura (G)
Jul. 9th, 2013 03:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
figs_sg1_recRec Category: Jonas Quinn
Categories: Sam and Jonas friendship, ep related, character study, angst
Warnings: none
Author on LJ:resurgamlaura
Author's Website: unknown
Link: D is for Diner
Why This Must Be Read: This is a thoughtfully deep glimpse into Jonas' mind: cultural conflicts, memories of what's lost, and the comfort of a good friend in Sam. A touch of humor, a dash of angst, and French fries for good measure: this is a relatively short vignette that holds a surprising amount of depth, and is well worth reading.
The perversity of it all hit him once again. A home that was not his country; a homeland thousands of light years away, which he’d betrayed. A traitor handing over a box crammed with potential power; an old man crippled by an unstable element: two exiles in a medical facility on Earth.
But there were colleagues–friends–who brought him to traditional diners, knowing–even hoping–that he would wonder why there was no tablecloth when he’d seen one at Steveston, that he would order a giant burger, eat everything that they recommended, and that yes, despite her protests, that he would test fries with milkshakes next. She was trying with him, had always tried, even when she didn’t much want to. He put the straw of his shake in his mouth and drank slowly. Not for the first time, he told himself that it was working.
Categories: Sam and Jonas friendship, ep related, character study, angst
Warnings: none
Author on LJ:
resurgamlauraAuthor's Website: unknown
Link: D is for Diner
Why This Must Be Read: This is a thoughtfully deep glimpse into Jonas' mind: cultural conflicts, memories of what's lost, and the comfort of a good friend in Sam. A touch of humor, a dash of angst, and French fries for good measure: this is a relatively short vignette that holds a surprising amount of depth, and is well worth reading.
The perversity of it all hit him once again. A home that was not his country; a homeland thousands of light years away, which he’d betrayed. A traitor handing over a box crammed with potential power; an old man crippled by an unstable element: two exiles in a medical facility on Earth.
But there were colleagues–friends–who brought him to traditional diners, knowing–even hoping–that he would wonder why there was no tablecloth when he’d seen one at Steveston, that he would order a giant burger, eat everything that they recommended, and that yes, despite her protests, that he would test fries with milkshakes next. She was trying with him, had always tried, even when she didn’t much want to. He put the straw of his shake in his mouth and drank slowly. Not for the first time, he told himself that it was working.
