Diminishing Returns, by Isawet (PG)
Apr. 30th, 2019 11:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
figs_sg1_recRec Category: Samantha Carter
Categories: drama, action/adventure, hurt/comfort, team, SG-1/SGA crossover, Teal'c, Jack, Daniel
Warnings: none
Author's Journal:isawet
Author's Website: Isawet on AO3
Link: Diminishing Returns
Why This Must Be Read: Part of me thinks this reads so well to me because, like Sam in this story, I am an outsider to SGA trying to work it out. But most of me thinks this is simply a fantastic, gripping fic that both SGA and SG-1 fans can love!
This is early Sam-in-command-of-Atlantis, still dealing with she's-not-Elizabeth-Weir resentment from the Atlantis team. This is Sam, dealing with a mystery and bad guys with courage and brains and sheer determination. This is Sam and Teyla being awesome together and the team working flawlessly. Add some delightful SG-1 crossing over with superb characterization, and you've got a long, satsifying read that'll definitely leave you wanting more!
One final note: the author labels this as "S/J, but could be read with gen goggles." There was only a single line or two in the final paragraphs that required me to settle my gen goggles firmly on my nose to read as casual male/female friendship, but for Sam/Jack fans, consider that aspect a bonus.
The Helians live in big sprawling cities, the city centers made of large buildings connected by twisting tunnels, all warmed to a temperature warm enough Sam sweats in her vest. Keller shifts in hers, had shown up to go through the gate without it until Sam made an airman fetch it. “I thought they were peaceful,” she’d grumbled, but Sam stood firm on the order. Sheppard shrugged, hooking his fingers into his own vest, and Teyla adopted a lightly approving version of her usual serenity. Ronon looked a little less like he was prone to kill her the moment Sheppard turned his back.
Sam steps through the gate and feels the drop in her belly, the rush in her ears. She walks into one of the large receiving rooms, remembers the briefing and Sheppard’s schematics, drawn from memory. There are three security stops between the gate and the Council room. The windows outside show solid white, the city dug into deep snowbanks and powered through steam pipes and irrigation. Sam stands in line, waiting to be screened through large machines that check for weapons, surrounded by polite greeters and sharply dressed security personnel. McKay and Sheppard talk quietly to each other in front of her, teasing Keller, all three heads bent close. Ronon pokes Teyla in the shoulder and points at a person in the line to their left, murmuring something that makes Teyla’s lips quirk, although her expression quickly turns disapproving.
Sam lets her thoughts wander, feeling the ache of being left out--unintentional though it is, she does not fit into the team’s familiar rhythm, their rapport. She constructs her own team around her, the General making a crack about Hell being frozen over, Teal’c informing him the country is called Helia, not Hell. Daniel rambles next to her, pushing up his glasses with one finger, actually, Jack, some believe Hell is frozen, as it is the complete absence of God’s love, his warmth. “Colonel,” Sheppard calls from in front of her, jarring. “You’re up.”
“Yes,” Sam murmurs, and shakes the image from her head.
Categories: drama, action/adventure, hurt/comfort, team, SG-1/SGA crossover, Teal'c, Jack, Daniel
Warnings: none
Author's Journal:
isawetAuthor's Website: Isawet on AO3
Link: Diminishing Returns
Why This Must Be Read: Part of me thinks this reads so well to me because, like Sam in this story, I am an outsider to SGA trying to work it out. But most of me thinks this is simply a fantastic, gripping fic that both SGA and SG-1 fans can love!
This is early Sam-in-command-of-Atlantis, still dealing with she's-not-Elizabeth-Weir resentment from the Atlantis team. This is Sam, dealing with a mystery and bad guys with courage and brains and sheer determination. This is Sam and Teyla being awesome together and the team working flawlessly. Add some delightful SG-1 crossing over with superb characterization, and you've got a long, satsifying read that'll definitely leave you wanting more!
One final note: the author labels this as "S/J, but could be read with gen goggles." There was only a single line or two in the final paragraphs that required me to settle my gen goggles firmly on my nose to read as casual male/female friendship, but for Sam/Jack fans, consider that aspect a bonus.
The Helians live in big sprawling cities, the city centers made of large buildings connected by twisting tunnels, all warmed to a temperature warm enough Sam sweats in her vest. Keller shifts in hers, had shown up to go through the gate without it until Sam made an airman fetch it. “I thought they were peaceful,” she’d grumbled, but Sam stood firm on the order. Sheppard shrugged, hooking his fingers into his own vest, and Teyla adopted a lightly approving version of her usual serenity. Ronon looked a little less like he was prone to kill her the moment Sheppard turned his back.
Sam steps through the gate and feels the drop in her belly, the rush in her ears. She walks into one of the large receiving rooms, remembers the briefing and Sheppard’s schematics, drawn from memory. There are three security stops between the gate and the Council room. The windows outside show solid white, the city dug into deep snowbanks and powered through steam pipes and irrigation. Sam stands in line, waiting to be screened through large machines that check for weapons, surrounded by polite greeters and sharply dressed security personnel. McKay and Sheppard talk quietly to each other in front of her, teasing Keller, all three heads bent close. Ronon pokes Teyla in the shoulder and points at a person in the line to their left, murmuring something that makes Teyla’s lips quirk, although her expression quickly turns disapproving.
Sam lets her thoughts wander, feeling the ache of being left out--unintentional though it is, she does not fit into the team’s familiar rhythm, their rapport. She constructs her own team around her, the General making a crack about Hell being frozen over, Teal’c informing him the country is called Helia, not Hell. Daniel rambles next to her, pushing up his glasses with one finger, actually, Jack, some believe Hell is frozen, as it is the complete absence of God’s love, his warmth. “Colonel,” Sheppard calls from in front of her, jarring. “You’re up.”
“Yes,” Sam murmurs, and shakes the image from her head.
