Title: Five times Sgt Greer lost his temper
Author: Shenandoah Risu
: PG-13
Content Flags: swearing
Spoilers/ Season: none/ SGU pre-series
Summary: Just what it says on the lid.
Characters: Ronald Greer
Author's Notes: first posted at sg1_five_things.
Disclaimer: I don't own SGU. I wouldn't know what to do with it. Now, Young... Young I'd know what to do with... ;-)

Five times Sgt Greer lost his temper


Ronald hits the roofing nail with all of his might. The nail buckles and squishes itself into the board. Ronald stares at it angrily. He hates wood shop class. All the stupid chores his dad makes him do at home, and now he has to do them for a grade. He thought Middle School would be better than Elementary School, but thanks to this dumb class he feels it's even worse.

"All right, Ronnie, that was better – go give it another try."

The teacher tries to be supportive, but the laughter of the other boys around him hurts. He grabs a fistful of nails, takes a deep breath and whacks them into the board in rapid succession – straight down and all the way into the wood. More nails. All the way in. More. He needs more. He needs to do better.

Later he sits in the school nurse's office, his pale-faced teacher next to him, and silence in the wood shop next door where the kids stare at the large board Ronald split with a cry of desperate anger and a hard blow of his hammer.


They're in Abe's car, Ronald, Tyrone, Tucker and Julio. It's late at night and they've been drinking a bit, the high from the party slowly being replaced by morose thoughts of going back to school in the morning and no doubt going to the principal's office because of a hangover.

"Look out – turtle!" Tucker yells, and Abe swerves hard and heads right for the lark lump on the road, and a sickening bump tells Ronald they've hit it.

"What the fuck d'you do that for?" He reaches forward and hits Abe in the shoulder. Hard.

"It was just a turtle," Julio says, and Ronald punches him with lightning-quick reflexes. Tucker tries to hold him back but Ronald lays him out with a right hook.

Abe pulls over.

"Get out, man," he says. Ronald is shaking, and he punches Tyrone in the chest. His knuckles hurt.

He gets out of the car. It's a long walk home.


Ronald loves the physical training in his 12 week Marine Corps training program. He craves the burn of muscles, the feeling of being so close to passing out he can almost touch the darkness, leaving the others in the dust. He's with a rough group, they're all angry young men from very diverse backgrounds, but they all want to make it through.

And there is Alistair. At 6 foot 6 inches he towers above the rest of the group. He's skinny as a rail with glasses and big buck teeth – the most perfect image of a nerd Ronald has ever known. And all the drill sergeants pick on him, as do the others in his group. Alistair just doesn't fit in. Ronald knows what that's like.

So when a guy from another group sticks out his foot in the mess hall and Alistair topples to the ground like some felled tree, Ronald hits the other man hard enough to break his nose. Others join in the fray and soon it's the biggest brawl the mess hall staff has ever seen.

Later Alistair claims responsibility. So does Ronald.

They both end up scrubbing the shitters for two months.


Ronald has been to P5X 278 several times. They have a naquada mine there and he works security. He's made friends with Corporal Barnes, a young woman who also has anger management issues.

One night they are ambushed by a large number of Jaffa and brought before their false god Occator, a minor goa'uld with a penchant for cruelty towards his human slaves and ambitions to become a system lord. There is the usual posturing and boasting until Occator reaches for Barnes and pushes his palm at her forehead, the hand device glowing brightly and slicing into her brain with unimaginable agony.

"No!" he screams and suddenly he's broken loose from the Jaffa holding him, and he's upon Occator. At the same moment gunfire erupts around him – the rescue team has arrived. He hits Occator blindly, blow after blow, until suddenly, with a hiss, the goa'uld slips from the host body. Ronald steps on its head with the heel of his boot, grinding it into the stone floor, again and again.

"It's okay, Sergeant." Colonel Young's voice – figures he would lead the rescue team. Ronald is breathing hard but stops his frantic stomping. Young roots around in his TAC vest, pulls out a large zip loc bag and hands it to him.

"Take a souvenir," he nods at the mangled creature, and claps him on the shoulder before helping Barnes to her feet.


Colonel Telford rubs him the wrong way from day one. He watches him berate his CO Colonel Young in front of others, yelling at their medic TJ, blaming Becker the cook for the fridge breakdown and ridiculing Lieutenant Scott's flight simulator results. And when Lieutenant James tells him Telford made a pass at her he feels his blood boil.

"Just let him try it," James snorts, "I got more hand-to-hand combat training than the bastard ever will."

Ronald knows she's right, but when Telford dresses Riley down in front of his whole team he just snaps and socks him one, a hard right hook that sends Telford crashing to the floor.

He's in the brig before he knows it, and when he sees the sad expression on Colonel Young's face he regrets losing his temper for the first time.