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beckys91

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I've searched everywhere I can think of, but I'm apparently not using the right search terms ... also tried to search here, because I'm pretty sure someone already asked and got the right answer, but can't figure out the search method ... anyway ...

Starts out McKay/Keller, ends McShep. Sheppard & Keller somehow switch bodies - she's fascinated and "takes it for a ride" but Sheppard is freaked, esp when Keller's body gets its period. The story somehow ends up with Rodney realizing he loves John, but I can't remember what John being in Keller's body has to do with changing Rodney's mind.

Sound familiar to anyone?

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I'm looking for stories where John is not necessarily dead, but no one can see him though he can see/hear them. He could be out of phase, out of body (at death's door), ascended, or whatever. I prefer happy endings & McShep, but I'm not feeling picky. Thank you!

(And if I didn't do the tags right, please let me know. I'm a real newbie when it comes to doing this on my phone.)

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I don't remember anything except Janus (I think) showing John how the original expedition drowned & I think John saw his own dead body? My imperfect memory might be confusing what happened, but I think Janus was trying to convince John of something.

Thanks for any help!

Becky


Posted via m.livejournal.com.

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I've been looking for this story for days -- and I've read it two or three times and still somehow lost it!  Any help would be appreciated.  Rodney saves the team from radiation at the cost of his ability to have children.  On another mission John has the chance to get pregnant with his child from an Ancient machine that's running out of power.  But then John feels he has to hide it until it just "turns up" on a post-mission exam.  When his pregnancy is discovered, Woolsey says he should abort, Rodney assumes he will, and Keller stands up for John's right to have the babies (I think it was two).  Carson is in it, too.  Please help!

Thank you in advance -- Becky

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I just remember that John was protecting Rodney (I think) and they went to a party where someone knew John & his father ... then John had to take out the baddies who were trying to kidnap Rodney, and the guy who knew John said some nice things to him towards the end of the story.  Not much help, I know, but I've searched & just can't find it.  Thanks for whatever you can do.
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I'm not going to argue global points on the military being broken because they look pretty sound to me, but let me add something.  When folks say the military is "broken," my immediate reaction is that they're wrong, but that's because it's not what I see.  I see

- people who say "oh, sh*t" when told it's their turn to deploy, then leave that attitude behind to get their stuff together and go.

- people who routinely get up at 0-dark-30 to get fitness facilities open (at 0430) so people can train to survive heat and physical stress when deployed.

- people who take pride in making omelets and hashbrowns and washing dishes so people are well fed while they repair airplanes

- people who spend their lives reviewing purchase requests and budgets to make sure that our tax dollars are spent legally and ethically, and squeezing every drop of value out of every dollar so money is put first where it can protect people and then where it can educate them and then where it can help de-stress them

- people who spend years of their lives teaching newbies how to be responsible, dedicated and honorable

- people who have to decide that limited funds can't be spent on standard levels of air conditioning for office workers because savings on the electrical bill means runways can be repaired

- people who bang their heads against the walls of policy and self-interest trying to make them understand that the world is changing and they have to let the military change, too (that was a 4-star, btw)

If people worked with the military every day as I do, they'd see that the military itself is doing everything it can, but policymakers and the people who provide funding put restrictions on what the military can have and do - in the name of not burdening their constituents with higher taxes.

Fixing the military means fixing our elected representatives first - and not just the guys at the top. 

We, collectively, have the power to fix this by letting our representatives - local and national - know that we don't like what we see. 
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QUOTE FROM FIC_OF_ELISE: actually, i wanted to do a piece from Larry in college, so i figured out what year that would be. Turned out to be 77, and with all the stuff that happened that year, I couldn't resist making the setting in NYC. I really think that it all contributed to Larry's general emotional state. 77 was a craaaazy year from what I heard. I also tried to figure out what a person would feel. The sixties literally were seven years earlier. We were in the middle of conflicts all across the globe, and son of sam was about. I just... the more I researched, the more messed up the year became. ENDQUOTE

 

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Having just re-read fic_of_elise's Numb3rs story 1977 (which I thoroughly enjoyed and recommend), along with her comments above, I got to thinking about her fascination with the year 1977 and how it affected Larry.   As I figure it, I’m only a year or two younger than he would be (I got my bachelor’s in 1978), so, since at least she seems so interested in who Larry is (I am, too), I decided to write out my impressions of growing up in about the same time-frame as Larry . . . 

 

You know, one of the strangest things of all about that year, looking back, is that at the time it didn’t strike me as being strange at all.  The world was well and truly messed up, so what was one more (rather than less) insane year?

 

You see, my first memory that has to do with the world outside of my back yard was Kennedy being assassinated.  Oh, I’d heard Mom & Dad talking about the Bay of Pigs, I’d heard about Gary Powers getting caught with the U-2 spy plane, but I didn’t really take note.  But this . . . I was in second grade, and we found out at school.  They let us out early, and I remember being very confused.  My mom watched TV endlessly for the next few days, and the scenes are a collage in my memory of black and white – the black dress Jackie wore, the white stone she stood on at the rotunda.  The black horse, riderless, dancing down what seemed on TV to be a white street.  The black coffin covered with the American flag with its brilliant white stripes and stars.

 

We went back to school eventually, to our tornado drills (everyone walk to the hallway by the gym, no running, no pushing) and our nuclear bomb disaster drills (climb under your desk, dear – duck and cover).

 

Shortly after, to my child’s mind, the President’s brother Robert was killed for daring to want to be our leader.  He died on TV, held in some anonymous person’s arms.  Then Martin Luther King, Jr. – that powerful voice, silenced forever.  When Governor Wallace of Alabama decided to run for President, he was the victim of an assassination attempt that left him paralyzed and in a wheelchair.  And even the Pope wasn’t safe – he was attacked on a visit to the Philippines in 1970.  By the time I hit high school, I was convinced that to aspire to leadership was to sign your own death warrant.

 

Every night on television, every morning in the newspaper, every month in Life Magazine, young men were being killed and maimed and their souls destroyed.  You could see it in their eyes.  Black people were being systematically destroyed in the South, badgered and beaten and killed by the police, who were supposed to be the guys in the white hats who stood up for the poor and downtrodden.  (Didn’t you watch Bonanza?  Gunsmoke?  Truth and Justice and The American Way?)  College kids were going crazy, skipping classes so they could dress in wild clothes of colors and designs that had never been seen before – or no clothes at all – and chant strange words to try to change things.  But change them to what?  I didn’t know.

 

Thalidomide children.  The Boston Strangler.  The “Pueblo.”  The “Chicago Eight.”  Mylai.  Chappaquiddick and Mary Jo Kopechne (history has shown that the Kennedy name has indeed survived that tarnishing).  Charles Manson.  The Dow Jones practically bottoming out at 631. The “Pentagon Papers.”  And, perhaps the most bizarre practice of all . . . streaking.

 

When I was in high school, I took a current events course for history credit, and this was the year Watergate broke.  We’d already learned that the Vice President was a crook, and now it looked like the President was, too.  Every morning we read the paper, and every day in class our poor teacher tried to explain what was going on.  I thought at the time that he wasn’t very good at his job, but now I know it was just the times – no one had a clue.

 

Heiress Patty Hearst was kidnapped and turned up later in a bank heist, claiming to be a member of the Symbionese Liberation Army.  We had our first “Energy Crisis,” when you had to sit in your car in line for hours for a tank of gas.  Then there were the kids who were killed at Kent State University.  College kids.  Like I was going to be.  College kids who just wanted to say that war was wrong, and got killed for it. 

 

And the pull-out from Saigon – all those people who tried so hard for a space in the helicopters, who just wanted to get out, just wanted to be safe, wanted so desperately for their children to be safe that they tried to hand them to the Americans, never to see them again, if they would just be safe—

 

All of this . . . ALL of this . . . took place in the space of about fifteen years.  Think about it as if it had taken place since 1991.  I wonder sometimes how my friends and I managed to grow up sane and relatively well-balanced.  Well . . . some of us didn’t, but that’s another story.  (It’s really no surprise that Larry can contemplate the future destruction of the Earth by asteroids with a certain detachment.)

 

Yet in spite of all this upheaval, we still managed to travel to the moon.  We had our first heart transplant.  We discovered the charmed quark and antiquark.  We could still dream, and the wildest dreams now seemed possible.  If Neil Armstrong could walk on the moon, what couldn’t we do here on earth?  The rules of life were being blasted apart, and there was nothing to replace them.

 

Anyway, by 1977 we were beginning to discover ourselves.  We were beginning to find our way, create our own rules.  Yes, in many ways we’re the “me” generation, but can you wonder?  We grew up knowing that if we wanted anything to happen, we would have to do it ourselves – do it for ourselves – because our government was either incompetent or (if you wanted to be nice about it) too distracted with the war in Vietnam to pay any attention.  And we grew up knowing that it was risky to try to change things.   1977 was like one last gasp of the insanity we’d lived with all our lives, one last blow-out before the world finally settled down into . . . whatever it was. 

 

9/11 changed things for today’s kids, there’s no doubt about that – but for most of them, even while the world was changing around them, they were safe.  It was a disaster that happened over there while they were shopping and going to school, playing football and talking on their cell phones.  But growing up in the 60s and 70s – it happened everywhere.  It was personal.  You couldn’t escape it.  You went to college knowing that if you chose to protest the war, you could get killed.  Your boyfriend went to college even if he’d been on the fence about it, because if he didn’t he’d get drafted and then almost certainly would get killed. 

 

We joined the Peace Corps and lived in strange countries, we worked to have women and blacks treated the same as white men (to the point that now white men are being discriminated against!), and some of us just worked hard to get as much money as we could so we could have stuff because maybe if we had stuff then maybe we’d have something permanent, maybe we’d be safe. 

 

Looking back, the weirdest thing of all is that this turmoil, this madness, this dangerous world?  It was normal.  We didn’t know any different.  We went to school, to church, to the grocery store; we had our band concerts and soccer games and Bar Mitzvahs and High School Proms – never realizing that we were growing up in a very strange time in the history of our country. 

 

Is it so surprising that those of us who grew up in the 60s and 70s look at the kids around us today as privileged?  Sheltered?  Yes, there are problems.  Gangs, drugs, terrible diseases – but most kids today can choose not to go down those paths, or they can escape if they find themselves there.  If they want it bad enough, they can almost always get out.  There are places to go that aren’t like that, and if they can find the courage, they can change the world they live in for a better one.  When we were kids, no matter where we tried to go we couldn’t get away from the chaos and insanity.  It came to be part of us, and I suppose it always will.  We just had to find a way to live with it and, finally, to make peace with it.

 

But I’m still never really surprised at whatever turns up on CNN.

 

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ALAN:  Armageddon.  No, don’t tell me – you two spotted another one of those asteroids hurtling toward the Earth, huh?

 

LARRY:  Several thousand, actually, but that Armageddon we have decades to resolve.

 

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Opinions and experiences are mine and, as such, are valid. If yours are different, feel free to say so; just don't tell me I'm wrong.

 

 

 

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