fic: the other side of this (stargate: universe)
stargate_las challenge response: [character] does something brave but stupid.
STATUS: Complete
SUMMARY: Last time, she remembers.
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATIONS: TJ/Young
SPOILERS: Intervention (2x01)
SOUNDTRACK: "Crystal Ball" (Pink)
ARCHIVING: Do not archive. Thank you.
NOTES: Unbeta'd. Sorry.
WORDS: 666
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don't sue.
Copyright anr; October 2010.
* * * * *
The Other Side of This by anr
* * * * *
i'm learning to be brave in my beautiful mistakes
*
She puts away the t-shirt, and the truck, and the little socks someone had anonymously left outside her quarters before the baby shower began.
She starts wearing her fatigues again.
She keeps her stitches clean, and dry, and waits for the bleeding to stop.
She doesn't forget.
*
Everett doesn't say anything, doesn't promise anything, doesn't try to fix anything.
This is how it ended last time, she remembers.
*
She dreams of waking, of walking out of her quarters and down to where the shuttle is. She pilots herself away from Destiny, heading into the lights, into the streams of blue and green and a white so raw it hurts to stare. She closes her eyes, closes her eyes and believes, and when she opens them again...
*
Scott sits next to her in the mess, an extra tuber on his plate that he offers to her. "If you need anything," he says.
She practices her smile. "I'm fine."
*
There's a recording of the space lights in Destiny's databanks.
She saves a copy to the section that contains her ultrasounds.
*
She starts showing up at the morning PT once more, a brisk power walk at first, then a jog, then long, loping strides, pacing the others through the dimly lit corridors.
Her body changes. Again.
*
"When you saw your father again," she starts during Chloe's next evaluation.
Chloe blanches. "I don't wanna talk about that."
There's a single, solitary tick still alive in her lab, carefully contained and quarantined. She tries not to wonder.
*
Destiny stops, a new planet, this new galaxy. She's geared up and in the 'gate room before Eli can even arrive with the kino; waits patiently for him to report on what's beyond the event horizon.
"Endor," he says, and she knows that's a Star Wars reference but she can't remember if it means trees or sand. "Better take a picnic lunch."
Trees it is. Shouldering her pack, she heads for the 'gate.
Everett steps in front of her. "Not y--" he starts, then catches himself and shakes his head, "--first," he finishes lamely. He motions for Scott to precede her.
She thinks about saying thank you.
She doesn't.
*
It rains the entire time they're on the planet, mud underfoot, water down the back of her neck. The trees are different, the sky a dismal grey, the humidity unexpected. She finds nothing of medicinal value, finds nothing at all.
*
She skips her turn on the communication stones. Her family hadn't known anyway.
*
She dreams she's running through a forest, Carmen crying in the distance, a cramp in her side, tears on her cheeks, the northern lights above her head, the cabin at the foot of the obelisk just around the next tree, over the next rise, another klick away, almost there, nearly, nearly, she's so close...
*
There's another emergency, another disaster, another moment of pressing, urgent need. Scott and James off ship and in trouble, another day, another mission.
She's listening through the radio, folding and refolding bandages, waiting, waiting, the sudden report of gunfire, distinct despite the static, sucking the air out of the room, a vacuum she wasn't expecting, until --
"Destiny, this is James."
She keeps holding her breath anyway.
*
She takes a bottle of Brody's worst to Everett's quarters later, and he doesn't seem surprised to see her. She's not sure how she feels about that.
"TJ," he says, letting her in. As she pours them a drink each -- her first since -- he locks the door.
This is how it started last time, she remembers.
*
In the dark, he rests his palm over her scar, fingers spanning across her abdomen.
Closing her eyes, she covers his hand with her own.
* * * * *
The End.
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated. *g*
STATUS: Complete
SUMMARY: Last time, she remembers.
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATIONS: TJ/Young
SPOILERS: Intervention (2x01)
SOUNDTRACK: "Crystal Ball" (Pink)
ARCHIVING: Do not archive. Thank you.
NOTES: Unbeta'd. Sorry.
WORDS: 666
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don't sue.
Copyright anr; October 2010.
* * * * *
The Other Side of This by anr
* * * * *
i'm learning to be brave in my beautiful mistakes
*
She puts away the t-shirt, and the truck, and the little socks someone had anonymously left outside her quarters before the baby shower began.
She starts wearing her fatigues again.
She keeps her stitches clean, and dry, and waits for the bleeding to stop.
She doesn't forget.
*
Everett doesn't say anything, doesn't promise anything, doesn't try to fix anything.
This is how it ended last time, she remembers.
*
She dreams of waking, of walking out of her quarters and down to where the shuttle is. She pilots herself away from Destiny, heading into the lights, into the streams of blue and green and a white so raw it hurts to stare. She closes her eyes, closes her eyes and believes, and when she opens them again...
*
Scott sits next to her in the mess, an extra tuber on his plate that he offers to her. "If you need anything," he says.
She practices her smile. "I'm fine."
*
There's a recording of the space lights in Destiny's databanks.
She saves a copy to the section that contains her ultrasounds.
*
She starts showing up at the morning PT once more, a brisk power walk at first, then a jog, then long, loping strides, pacing the others through the dimly lit corridors.
Her body changes. Again.
*
"When you saw your father again," she starts during Chloe's next evaluation.
Chloe blanches. "I don't wanna talk about that."
There's a single, solitary tick still alive in her lab, carefully contained and quarantined. She tries not to wonder.
*
Destiny stops, a new planet, this new galaxy. She's geared up and in the 'gate room before Eli can even arrive with the kino; waits patiently for him to report on what's beyond the event horizon.
"Endor," he says, and she knows that's a Star Wars reference but she can't remember if it means trees or sand. "Better take a picnic lunch."
Trees it is. Shouldering her pack, she heads for the 'gate.
Everett steps in front of her. "Not y--" he starts, then catches himself and shakes his head, "--first," he finishes lamely. He motions for Scott to precede her.
She thinks about saying thank you.
She doesn't.
*
It rains the entire time they're on the planet, mud underfoot, water down the back of her neck. The trees are different, the sky a dismal grey, the humidity unexpected. She finds nothing of medicinal value, finds nothing at all.
*
She skips her turn on the communication stones. Her family hadn't known anyway.
*
She dreams she's running through a forest, Carmen crying in the distance, a cramp in her side, tears on her cheeks, the northern lights above her head, the cabin at the foot of the obelisk just around the next tree, over the next rise, another klick away, almost there, nearly, nearly, she's so close...
*
There's another emergency, another disaster, another moment of pressing, urgent need. Scott and James off ship and in trouble, another day, another mission.
She's listening through the radio, folding and refolding bandages, waiting, waiting, the sudden report of gunfire, distinct despite the static, sucking the air out of the room, a vacuum she wasn't expecting, until --
"Destiny, this is James."
She keeps holding her breath anyway.
*
She takes a bottle of Brody's worst to Everett's quarters later, and he doesn't seem surprised to see her. She's not sure how she feels about that.
"TJ," he says, letting her in. As she pours them a drink each -- her first since -- he locks the door.
This is how it started last time, she remembers.
*
In the dark, he rests his palm over her scar, fingers spanning across her abdomen.
Closing her eyes, she covers his hand with her own.
* * * * *
The End.
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated. *g*