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magnavox_23) wrote2007-09-19 02:38 pm
magnavox_23) wrote2007-09-19 02:38 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: This Token Of Life
Title: This Token Of Life
Author: Magnavox
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They're not mine I just borrow them from time to time and promise to give them back in perfect working order...eventually ;).
Summary: After the storm, Elizabeth struggles with her beliefs in this new situation.
Season/Spoiler info: Season 1. Spoilers for The Storm, The Eye.
Author's notes: I tried to stick as close as possible to a description of an MK23 Mod 0, since I figure that's pretty close to what they'd be using on Atlantis as a standard issue handgun. Written for "Celebrate Elizabeth" (week 4).
Elizabeth Weir Ph.D. had never fired a gun. In all honesty, she'd never felt the need to. In her mind, problems were solved with words, not weapons. She held a deep seeded belief that anyone could be swayed by words to see reason. They were the only weapons she permitted herself. She saw understanding and education as the path to peace. Then she went to Atlantis.
Even now she can see the destruction caused by guns. Out on the grounding station she can still see the bullet holes from Sheppard's P-90, and a Genii soldier's blood pooling by the door. Closing her eyes brings back the image of that same P-90 aimed at her. Sure, it was John Shepard holding the weapon, but she had never felt more helpless than in that moment. Sheppard's P-90, a Genii weapon in her side, and what did she have to defend herself? Her own two hands? In spite of the whole 'damsel in distress' mindset, she never wanted to find herself in that situation again.
She turned to leave the pier, slipping silently down to the armoury. Nodding to the SF's, she waved her hand over the door controls and entered. Elizabeth could remember a handful of times she'd actually come down here herself. 'Room o' Death' is what immediately popped into her head, but then she had to remind herself that these weapons had saved her life more than once since coming to this galaxy.
Doesn't mean that on some level these weapons didn't scare her. Rows of P-90's, Wraith stunners and an assortment of scavenged alien weaponry staring at her as she made her way to a cupboard. Once open, she slowly reached for a handgun. Her fingers curled around the slick steel. Its coolness made her shiver. This little piece of machinery held so much power. Life and Death. Its weight was odd in her hand. Like it didn't belong. She didn't want it there.
Elizabeth took the gun through to the practice range they'd set up next to the armoury. There, she grabbed a pair of earplugs and set about checking the weapon. The 12 round magazine was full. Her chest tightened at the thought of what she was about to do. She raised the gun, coking it with her thumb, and pointed it at a crudely drawn Wraith with a ponytail. Everything felt wrong. This wasn't her. Elizabeth Weir didn't use a gun, but words were failing her now, even inside her own head. She was wracked with fear and anger. Heart beating wildly, she knew she was giving up a part of herself tonight.
A single shot rang out through Atlantis.
Author: Magnavox
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They're not mine I just borrow them from time to time and promise to give them back in perfect working order...eventually ;).
Summary: After the storm, Elizabeth struggles with her beliefs in this new situation.
Season/Spoiler info: Season 1. Spoilers for The Storm, The Eye.
Author's notes: I tried to stick as close as possible to a description of an MK23 Mod 0, since I figure that's pretty close to what they'd be using on Atlantis as a standard issue handgun. Written for "Celebrate Elizabeth" (week 4).
Elizabeth Weir Ph.D. had never fired a gun. In all honesty, she'd never felt the need to. In her mind, problems were solved with words, not weapons. She held a deep seeded belief that anyone could be swayed by words to see reason. They were the only weapons she permitted herself. She saw understanding and education as the path to peace. Then she went to Atlantis.
Even now she can see the destruction caused by guns. Out on the grounding station she can still see the bullet holes from Sheppard's P-90, and a Genii soldier's blood pooling by the door. Closing her eyes brings back the image of that same P-90 aimed at her. Sure, it was John Shepard holding the weapon, but she had never felt more helpless than in that moment. Sheppard's P-90, a Genii weapon in her side, and what did she have to defend herself? Her own two hands? In spite of the whole 'damsel in distress' mindset, she never wanted to find herself in that situation again.
She turned to leave the pier, slipping silently down to the armoury. Nodding to the SF's, she waved her hand over the door controls and entered. Elizabeth could remember a handful of times she'd actually come down here herself. 'Room o' Death' is what immediately popped into her head, but then she had to remind herself that these weapons had saved her life more than once since coming to this galaxy.
Doesn't mean that on some level these weapons didn't scare her. Rows of P-90's, Wraith stunners and an assortment of scavenged alien weaponry staring at her as she made her way to a cupboard. Once open, she slowly reached for a handgun. Her fingers curled around the slick steel. Its coolness made her shiver. This little piece of machinery held so much power. Life and Death. Its weight was odd in her hand. Like it didn't belong. She didn't want it there.
Elizabeth took the gun through to the practice range they'd set up next to the armoury. There, she grabbed a pair of earplugs and set about checking the weapon. The 12 round magazine was full. Her chest tightened at the thought of what she was about to do. She raised the gun, coking it with her thumb, and pointed it at a crudely drawn Wraith with a ponytail. Everything felt wrong. This wasn't her. Elizabeth Weir didn't use a gun, but words were failing her now, even inside her own head. She was wracked with fear and anger. Heart beating wildly, she knew she was giving up a part of herself tonight.
A single shot rang out through Atlantis.
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