Perceptions

There was nothing quite like watching John Sheppard work a room. He did it in a way that wasn't smarmy or artificial. His smiles felt genuine to the recipients, and his grins made it seem like he was sharing a joke with just you.

Being on the receiving end of John's charm had a way of making a person feel witty and charming and interesting, as though John was somehow seeing in you the very things you saw in him. Kate had understood this within minutes of meeting the man, and had promptly begun working on ways to resist it. Yet there were times when she was tempted to succumb, to let herself be deluded by his charm into thinking that she was as important as that smile made her feel.

Not that she wasn't important, she knew the strength of her own contributions, but she also knew that she would never see more of John Sheppard than he wanted her to see.

***

Teyla pivoted and struck, swirling out of harm's way when Major Sheppard tried to strike back. It was wrong of her, she knew, but she enjoyed provoking him, enjoyed attempting to get a reaction other than an easy smile.

She knew he was capable of more than that. She had seen the strength his casual persona only hinted at, along with the determination, and the ruthlessness. Those were not the only things she had seen. She had seen compassion and kindness, and fierce loyalty, but in spite of their friendship, all she ever saw were hints.

Swinging her sticks in a graceful arc, Teyla moved toward him. Knowing she'd never get more didn't stop her from wanting it.

***

John Sheppard was a dangerous man. It was undeniable. Elizabeth had felt his bullet rip into Kolya. She'd seen the look on his face when he pulled the trigger.

And she'd seen the way he was afterwards, rolling his eyes at Rodney, acting as though killing dozens of men was just a day's work.

For him it was.

She didn't think that it was what he wanted. Couldn't imagine that when he joined the Air Force it was to become a killer, and she wondered what had brought him to this point. Other than necessity.

Sitting across from him at the briefing, discussing their ever narrowing options, she wondered what necessity was going to make of him next.

What it would make of them all.

***

Carson liked having John Sheppard as a patient. Not that he liked it when anyone was injured, but as patients went, John was a good one. He was patient and amiable, smiling at the nurses, listening to--and following--Carson's instructions.

If he had a few too many visitors, that wasn't a bad thing. John Sheppard was an easy man to like, and as long as John didn't complain Carson let people visit. He had a grin or a smirk or a joke for each of them, and Carson sometimes wondered if being John Sheppard was as tiring as it looked.

***

John couldn't stop watching Rodney. He'd tried several times, but evidently he wasn't as disciplined as he believed himself to be. Rodney's face fascinated him and whenever they were in a room together John's eyes gravitated to it, no matter how often he refocused them elsewhere.

Whatever Rodney felt he showed to the world, and at first John had thought this a weakness, revealing far too much information. But part of him had admired Rodney's bravery. Then he'd decided that Rodney wasn't being brave at all, that Rodney simply didn't know any other way to be.

After watching Rodney a bit more he'd reconsidered, finally concluding that Rodney showed the world who he was as a way of showing them that he didn't care what they thought. He didn't have to hide anything, because what others thought didn't matter. To John this seemed foolish. Of course it mattered what other people thought. Working with other people wasn't something you could avoid, so you had to learn to do it well. There wasn't a choice.

Except, apparently, for Rodney, who made other people work with him on his terms.

John envied him that.

"Major," Rodney called and John crossed the control room to his side. Before he could say anything, Rodney shoved a partially connected circuit into his hands. "If you're going to hang around the least you can do is make yourself useful." Shifting the circuit so that it was balanced in one of John's hands, Rodney took his other hand and placed it on a tiny collection of filaments. "I need you to hold these back and out of the way."

"Will do."

Rodney didn't answer. He simply began poking at the area under the filaments with a tool John didn't recognize, the back of his hand brushing John's fingers.

His eyes on Rodney, John didn't even realize he was smiling.