Amnesty 201205: A Very Good Year (Gen)
May. 25th, 2012 11:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
esteefee posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_saturdayTitle: A Very Good Year
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
esteefee
Categories: Gen, Rodney and John friendship
Words: 702
Warnings: none
Episode-related: the Siege III
Summary: Rodney's thoughts after they return home to Atlantis.
A/N: This is for everyone who participated this past year to make this the best damned little comm that could. Thanks you guys. Seriously. From commenters to artists to reccers to writers, you guys are all just the givingest best. And of course, me co-mod,lilyfarfalla <3
A Very Good Year
by esteefee
It was supposed to be a simple, rudimentary diagnostic check—not that Rodney didn't trust Zelenka's handiwork, but the Chair was critical for their defenses, and yes, all right, plainly put—he didn't trust anyone but himself to do it, especially considering the hatchet job he'd been committing until the words, "So long, Rodney," had finally wormed their way past his stimulant-soaked aural capacitors and he'd realized how pointless it all was.
So. After the oh-so-fun debriefing on Earth and eighteen days' return trip of great joy-read-boredom interrupted by Wraith computer viruses and sun-hopping, Rodney returned to find Atlantis still under reconstruction, but the Chair was priority number one, so he dragged the Major—oh, fine, Colonel—down there to run a diagnostic.
"Good to be back, right?" Sheppard said, loping alongside him. "Missed those good ol' Atlantis shower heads." He tilted Rodney a grin.
"Oh, it's great, just terrific," Rodney said. "Have you seen the state of my labs? Miko is still cleaning Wraith guts out of the keyboards."
"Yeah, I know. You should see the walls of the mess hall." Sheppard pivoted and walked backward. "Cool splatter paint job. Nice shade of aquamarine."
Rodney made a disgusted snort.
In the Chair room, Sheppard jumped on board and tilted back, the blue glow surrounding him while Rodney hooked up his tablet.
"All right, Major," he said when he was prepped, "I want you to—"
The air above them suddenly filled with a grid of blue stars and a vaguely familiar solar system, Atlantea glowing at its center.
"Remember this?" Sheppard gave him a lopsided smile before looking upward, and then—caesura—a tremendous wave of déjà vu hit Rodney like stunner blast. He saw the unknown Air Force major of a year prior staring up in awe at what he'd done, but then Rodney's gut twisted strangely and he saw Sheppard, tense with fatigue and battle stress, waiting for Rodney, believing he could pull a miracle so they could save their city, save all of them—and an instant later, here was John at ease finally, home, the dark circles fading from under his eyes, hair freshly washed yet still annoyingly defiant. How remarkable that this John Sheppard, the one who beat Rodney at Scrabble last night (Rodney still denied 'kree' was an acceptable word) was the bastard who'd made him do calisthenics at six a.m. his second week on Atlantis.
"Oh, I remember." Rodney swallowed dryly and had to blink furiously. John's eyes widened, and the glittering solar system spun around them once more before fading.
"Yeah," John said. "It's been some year, I guess." He shifted, and the Chair rose upright, the light turning off.
Rodney opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
"Hey, c'mon now." John stood and leaned over him, gripping his arm.
But Rodney still couldn't speak, because a year of near misses were clinging to the back of his throat, one of the hardest being this last, a blip on the screen standing before him, warm and alive and concerned, no stranger now.
But thinking about that horrid moment only served to remind Rodney that a year ago he was alone with his gadgets and equations for comfort, an outcast with too much to prove, and it was just hitting him now, how easily he could have lost all of this. Teyla and Elizabeth and Carson and Radek. Ford was lost...but John swore they'd find him. Rodney blinked again, hard.
"Guess it's been kinda rough," John said, then made a funny noise when Rodney grabbed him in a hug.
The tablet dropped to the platform with a clatter that made Rodney wince, but then John's arms came up around him slowly, tentatively, and Rodney smiled. He'd trade a hundred goddamned tablets for this. Well, the cheaper Dell models, anyway. John patted him awkwardly, and then sighed into him.
"It's been a good year," Rodney said, his voice muffled by John's shoulder. "Just fine."
John laughed. "Yeah, damned if it hasn't, buddy," he said, and didn't let go.
End.
A/N: you might have noticed my tip o' the hat tomific's highly awesome Durb is Not a Word a-middle here. Kree!
Author:
esteefeeCategories: Gen, Rodney and John friendship
Words: 702
Warnings: none
Episode-related: the Siege III
Summary: Rodney's thoughts after they return home to Atlantis.
A/N: This is for everyone who participated this past year to make this the best damned little comm that could. Thanks you guys. Seriously. From commenters to artists to reccers to writers, you guys are all just the givingest best. And of course, me co-mod,
lilyfarfalla <3A Very Good Year
by esteefee
It was supposed to be a simple, rudimentary diagnostic check—not that Rodney didn't trust Zelenka's handiwork, but the Chair was critical for their defenses, and yes, all right, plainly put—he didn't trust anyone but himself to do it, especially considering the hatchet job he'd been committing until the words, "So long, Rodney," had finally wormed their way past his stimulant-soaked aural capacitors and he'd realized how pointless it all was.
So. After the oh-so-fun debriefing on Earth and eighteen days' return trip of great joy-read-boredom interrupted by Wraith computer viruses and sun-hopping, Rodney returned to find Atlantis still under reconstruction, but the Chair was priority number one, so he dragged the Major—oh, fine, Colonel—down there to run a diagnostic.
"Good to be back, right?" Sheppard said, loping alongside him. "Missed those good ol' Atlantis shower heads." He tilted Rodney a grin.
"Oh, it's great, just terrific," Rodney said. "Have you seen the state of my labs? Miko is still cleaning Wraith guts out of the keyboards."
"Yeah, I know. You should see the walls of the mess hall." Sheppard pivoted and walked backward. "Cool splatter paint job. Nice shade of aquamarine."
Rodney made a disgusted snort.
In the Chair room, Sheppard jumped on board and tilted back, the blue glow surrounding him while Rodney hooked up his tablet.
"All right, Major," he said when he was prepped, "I want you to—"
The air above them suddenly filled with a grid of blue stars and a vaguely familiar solar system, Atlantea glowing at its center.
"Remember this?" Sheppard gave him a lopsided smile before looking upward, and then—caesura—a tremendous wave of déjà vu hit Rodney like stunner blast. He saw the unknown Air Force major of a year prior staring up in awe at what he'd done, but then Rodney's gut twisted strangely and he saw Sheppard, tense with fatigue and battle stress, waiting for Rodney, believing he could pull a miracle so they could save their city, save all of them—and an instant later, here was John at ease finally, home, the dark circles fading from under his eyes, hair freshly washed yet still annoyingly defiant. How remarkable that this John Sheppard, the one who beat Rodney at Scrabble last night (Rodney still denied 'kree' was an acceptable word) was the bastard who'd made him do calisthenics at six a.m. his second week on Atlantis.
"Oh, I remember." Rodney swallowed dryly and had to blink furiously. John's eyes widened, and the glittering solar system spun around them once more before fading.
"Yeah," John said. "It's been some year, I guess." He shifted, and the Chair rose upright, the light turning off.
Rodney opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
"Hey, c'mon now." John stood and leaned over him, gripping his arm.
But Rodney still couldn't speak, because a year of near misses were clinging to the back of his throat, one of the hardest being this last, a blip on the screen standing before him, warm and alive and concerned, no stranger now.
But thinking about that horrid moment only served to remind Rodney that a year ago he was alone with his gadgets and equations for comfort, an outcast with too much to prove, and it was just hitting him now, how easily he could have lost all of this. Teyla and Elizabeth and Carson and Radek. Ford was lost...but John swore they'd find him. Rodney blinked again, hard.
"Guess it's been kinda rough," John said, then made a funny noise when Rodney grabbed him in a hug.
The tablet dropped to the platform with a clatter that made Rodney wince, but then John's arms came up around him slowly, tentatively, and Rodney smiled. He'd trade a hundred goddamned tablets for this. Well, the cheaper Dell models, anyway. John patted him awkwardly, and then sighed into him.
"It's been a good year," Rodney said, his voice muffled by John's shoulder. "Just fine."
John laughed. "Yeah, damned if it hasn't, buddy," he said, and didn't let go.
End.
A/N: you might have noticed my tip o' the hat to
mific's highly awesome Durb is Not a Word a-middle here. Kree!
