Ricochets Interlude (SGA/Traders X-over)
This was written as a comfort fic for Sealie, and is set in her wonderful SGA/Traders AU. Enjoy!
*****
Ricochets Interlude
By Beth Green
Rodney's friend Radek the scientist had been very helpful when Grant had first arrived on Atlantis. Grant would have spent days, perhaps weeks, lost in detailed exploration and categorization of the exquisitely ordered crystals found in his new laboratory. Grant had stared in open-mouthed wonder after discovering the glowing crystals concealed beneath the panels in the walls. While Grant would have been more than happy to dedicate himself to the self-appointed task of discovery, he had a more important job to do.
Rodney had explained that Grant's expertise in computer modeling could be put to good use in Atlantis. Therefore, all of his computer equipment had been transferred from Earth to Atlantis; in pieces; in boxes. The unfamiliar setting of his new laboratory required more than a bit of tinkering. In order to work at maximum efficiency, Grant felt it necessary to reconstruct his workstation so that the individual components were set in the same configuration they had back on Earth.
There was one particular problem area that caused a delay in making the computer and its components operational. Grant was unfamiliar with the Atlantis power source. Given time, the well-ordered logical arrangement of the crystals promised that Grant would be able to decipher their structural organization. However, the general atmosphere of Atlantis was a continuous buzz of 'hurry-hurry-hurry.' Grant was not surprised when Rodney sent Radek to help speed up his work.
Radek's mind fit easily into the fast-paced heartbeat of Atlantis. The Czech began with simple instructions, interrupting himself to move on to the more complex, and interrupting himself again when he realized that Grant understood what he was trying to say. Radek's mind jumped from thought to thought, from concept to concept, as he probed the depths of Grant's knowledge. The man's aura glowed with happiness when Grant proved to be a more than adequate student.
Radek reminded Grant of Rodney, the way the synapses in his brain connected faster than he could verbally respond, resulting in an endless stream of words. Grant found the rhythms and the patterns of speech comfortingly familiar.
That is why Grant would have sought out Radek even if Rodney had not been injured. Rodney's prolonged recovery made the action a priority.
Grant knew how much Rodney resented his body's weakness. The past few days, the dark and turbulent air around his cousin was an unhappy reflection of his emotional state, only clearing slightly in Grant's presence. Grant had cared for Rodney when they were young. The memory of that childhood bond made it easy and comforting for Rodney to accept help from Grant.
Solicitous behavior from others was barely tolerated. Occasionally, like today, it was outright rejected. Carson had stopped by to check on Rodney.
Rodney was dressed and sitting in a chair at his desk, but he could not hide his weakness from the doctor. He was pale, with dark circles underneath his eyes emphasizing his unwell appearance. Although the injured man had been released from the infirmary, between his near-drowning and the toll taken on his body from their disastrous trip off-world, Rodney was not physically able to resume his duties on Atlantis. His active mind denied the messages his body was sending, and he insisted that he was fit enough to resume working in the lab.
"Carson, I don't need any more hand-holding. I can be much more useful in the lab."
The doctor shook his head. "There's no need to endanger your recovery by needlessly pushing yourself into a relapse."
Rodney disagreed. His voice a petulant whine rather than the angry shout he'd intended, he declared, "I'm not twelve, and I don't need to be confined to my room for breaking curfew, *Dad*! Lab work is hardly a strenuous activity. There's only so much I can do here. Let me show you …" Rodney paused and stretched to reach for his laptop computer. His body protested the abrupt action as his injured muscles spasmodically twisted in pain. The sharpness of the discomfort caused a surprised intake of breath; that, in turn, set off a series of bone-jarring coughs. Rodney half-turned in his chair, wrapped one hand around his chest as he bent forward, while the other hand molded itself into a fist and began to pound upon the surface of the desk. He angrily shrugged off the hand that Carson placed on his back.
To Grant's terrified mind, the episode seemed endless, but it was only ten minutes long according to the room's clock. Grant took a step forward, but Rodney waved him off. Pale and shaking, he slumped back in his chair. His voice a strained whisper, he declared, "I hate this."
Carson offered words of comfort, but Grant knew that Rodney presently found the doctor's presence an irritating reminder of his disability. "It's going to take time. Give yourself a few more days, at least."
Carson did not seem to realize that he was not helping. Grant wanted to order the man to leave, but instead firmly declared, "I'll take care of him."
The doctor displayed his common sense as well as his confidence in Grant as a caregiver and replied, "Aye, I've no doubt you will. I'll see you tomorrow." Grant was relieved when the man finally left.
Grant assisted Rodney out of his chair and supported him as he shuffled slowly over to the bed. Rodney would have collapsed onto the soft surface in a painfully uncoordinated fall if his cousin had not supported him as he changed position from standing, to sitting, to lying in the bed. Rodney was asleep within five minutes.
Grant was nervous about leaving his cousin alone. He spied Rodney's discarded radio, and smiled as an idea took shape. He modified the communication device he'd been given to wear so that it would send a continuous signal to the earpiece of Rodney's radio. He set the device next to Rodney's bed, and placed the earpiece on his own head, satisfied when he heard Rodney's soft, snuffling snores from both the room and the radio. Now that Grant could monitor Rodney from a distance, he set off to find Radek.
*****
Radek at work in Atlantis was as predictable as Rodney. The result of that fortunate coincidence was that Grant found the scientist in the first place that he looked: the lab. Grant stood uncertainly in the doorway, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. He wasn't sure if their brief acquaintance was such that the man would not take offense if Grant were to ask a favor. However, for Rodney's sake, he had to try.
It might have taken him far longer to work up the courage to speak if Radek had not smiled and greeted him. "Hello. How is Rodney? Do you need anything?"
Grant wasn't sure if Radek was asking for a detailed report of Rodney's condition, or if he was merely seeking an update on current events. He tentatively offered, "Rodney's tired. He's asleep."
Radek nodded. "Yes, yes of course." He paused, then asked, "Is there something you need?"
Grant relaxed, pleased at the implied offer. "Yes. Tools, please."
Rodney slept the rest of the day away as Grant locked himself away in his laboratory and began to work on his new project. It was actually an old project given new inspiration, a project that he'd begun on Earth but had never had the time to finish. Fortunately the Stargate Command staffers who had packed up his belongings included any and everything of possible usefulness.
*****
Rodney felt a bit better next day, which was good, but also bad, as it gave Grant less time than he would have liked to complete his project. He was relieved when Rodney finally decided to take a nap. Using the same radio setup from the previous day, Grant hurried to his laboratory.
Rodney slept until dinnertime, which gave Grant all the time he needed. He took one of the boxes he'd saved after his computer had been set up, and carefully placed his completed project within the box. He returned to his sleeping cousin, being careful not to wake him as he quietly took a seat at the side of the bed. The box was balanced carefully upon his lap, as he sat and watched Rodney sleep.
Rodney woke to the realization that he was not alone. He felt eyes staring at him, and was not surprised to find Grant seated at his bedside. He was surprised to see that Grant was holding a box as carefully as if it contained a ZedPM. Rodney stretched carefully, trying to work some of the stiffness out of injured muscles aching with inactivity. Rodney wiped a hand across his face to remove trace amounts of sleep grit and sweat, and pushed himself up to sit sideways on the bed.
Grant's smile was so enthusiastic that Rodney could not help but smile in return. He greeted his cousin: "Hey, Grant," and pointed an index finger at the new addition to his room. "What's in the box?"
Rodney didn't think it was possible, but Grant's smile grew even wider. "It's a present." He held out the box and added, "For you."
Rodney took the box carefully from his cousin and placed it next to him on the bed. He stated, "Thank you, but it's not even my birthday …" He forgot what he was going to say as he opened the flaps of the box and beheld its contents.
Grant's good hand nervously twisted and massaged his injured hand as he watched Rodney reverently remove his present from the box. Rodney's eyes widened in disbelief, his voice a combination of awe and elation as he whispered, "Oh. My. God!"
Rodney was holding a foot-high metallic object that looked like a nubby salt shaker with a stick for a nose. He held it at arms-length as he twisted and turned the object to admire and observe Grant's handiwork from every possible angle.
His pain and injuries forgotten, Rodney exclaimed, "This is exquisite! Dr. Who is one of the few recorded television programs that we brought along when we first came to Atlantis, so I've seen the episodes so many times that I have all of the dialogue memorized, and I know for a fact that this is an exact replica of a Dalek. Where did you get this?"
Grant looked away, suddenly feeling embarrassed and humbled. He knew that the replica was not exact; for one thing, it was considerably smaller than it should have been. Grant confessed, "I made it, but I would have made it life-sized if I had more time and materials."
Rodney placed a gentle hand on Grant's shoulder. Grant looked up into an expression of love and approval. Rodney declared, "It's perfect just the way it is."
Grant could see that Rodney spoke the exact truth. He relaxed, and pointed toward the box. "There's a controller."
Rodney reached for the box and removed something that bore more than a passing resemblance to a game control box. He set the Dalek on the floor and began to manipulate the buttons and levers. The Dalek rolled forward, backward, and spun around as it repeated in a robotic voice, "Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"
Between smiles and laughs, Rodney declared, "This is the best present *ever*!"
Grant had thought that it would be; hoped that it would be; but he was beyond relieved at Rodney's joyful acceptance. He would make a hundred Daleks if it meant that he would see the current expression on Rodney's face make a return appearance. For now, he said the only words he could think of: "Thank you."
*****
~end
*****
If you'd like to see a rather strange Dalek with an equally odd Hewlett, go here:
http://www.david-hewlett.co.uk/DHThankYou2.htm
*****
Ricochets Interlude
By Beth Green
Rodney's friend Radek the scientist had been very helpful when Grant had first arrived on Atlantis. Grant would have spent days, perhaps weeks, lost in detailed exploration and categorization of the exquisitely ordered crystals found in his new laboratory. Grant had stared in open-mouthed wonder after discovering the glowing crystals concealed beneath the panels in the walls. While Grant would have been more than happy to dedicate himself to the self-appointed task of discovery, he had a more important job to do.
Rodney had explained that Grant's expertise in computer modeling could be put to good use in Atlantis. Therefore, all of his computer equipment had been transferred from Earth to Atlantis; in pieces; in boxes. The unfamiliar setting of his new laboratory required more than a bit of tinkering. In order to work at maximum efficiency, Grant felt it necessary to reconstruct his workstation so that the individual components were set in the same configuration they had back on Earth.
There was one particular problem area that caused a delay in making the computer and its components operational. Grant was unfamiliar with the Atlantis power source. Given time, the well-ordered logical arrangement of the crystals promised that Grant would be able to decipher their structural organization. However, the general atmosphere of Atlantis was a continuous buzz of 'hurry-hurry-hurry.' Grant was not surprised when Rodney sent Radek to help speed up his work.
Radek's mind fit easily into the fast-paced heartbeat of Atlantis. The Czech began with simple instructions, interrupting himself to move on to the more complex, and interrupting himself again when he realized that Grant understood what he was trying to say. Radek's mind jumped from thought to thought, from concept to concept, as he probed the depths of Grant's knowledge. The man's aura glowed with happiness when Grant proved to be a more than adequate student.
Radek reminded Grant of Rodney, the way the synapses in his brain connected faster than he could verbally respond, resulting in an endless stream of words. Grant found the rhythms and the patterns of speech comfortingly familiar.
That is why Grant would have sought out Radek even if Rodney had not been injured. Rodney's prolonged recovery made the action a priority.
Grant knew how much Rodney resented his body's weakness. The past few days, the dark and turbulent air around his cousin was an unhappy reflection of his emotional state, only clearing slightly in Grant's presence. Grant had cared for Rodney when they were young. The memory of that childhood bond made it easy and comforting for Rodney to accept help from Grant.
Solicitous behavior from others was barely tolerated. Occasionally, like today, it was outright rejected. Carson had stopped by to check on Rodney.
Rodney was dressed and sitting in a chair at his desk, but he could not hide his weakness from the doctor. He was pale, with dark circles underneath his eyes emphasizing his unwell appearance. Although the injured man had been released from the infirmary, between his near-drowning and the toll taken on his body from their disastrous trip off-world, Rodney was not physically able to resume his duties on Atlantis. His active mind denied the messages his body was sending, and he insisted that he was fit enough to resume working in the lab.
"Carson, I don't need any more hand-holding. I can be much more useful in the lab."
The doctor shook his head. "There's no need to endanger your recovery by needlessly pushing yourself into a relapse."
Rodney disagreed. His voice a petulant whine rather than the angry shout he'd intended, he declared, "I'm not twelve, and I don't need to be confined to my room for breaking curfew, *Dad*! Lab work is hardly a strenuous activity. There's only so much I can do here. Let me show you …" Rodney paused and stretched to reach for his laptop computer. His body protested the abrupt action as his injured muscles spasmodically twisted in pain. The sharpness of the discomfort caused a surprised intake of breath; that, in turn, set off a series of bone-jarring coughs. Rodney half-turned in his chair, wrapped one hand around his chest as he bent forward, while the other hand molded itself into a fist and began to pound upon the surface of the desk. He angrily shrugged off the hand that Carson placed on his back.
To Grant's terrified mind, the episode seemed endless, but it was only ten minutes long according to the room's clock. Grant took a step forward, but Rodney waved him off. Pale and shaking, he slumped back in his chair. His voice a strained whisper, he declared, "I hate this."
Carson offered words of comfort, but Grant knew that Rodney presently found the doctor's presence an irritating reminder of his disability. "It's going to take time. Give yourself a few more days, at least."
Carson did not seem to realize that he was not helping. Grant wanted to order the man to leave, but instead firmly declared, "I'll take care of him."
The doctor displayed his common sense as well as his confidence in Grant as a caregiver and replied, "Aye, I've no doubt you will. I'll see you tomorrow." Grant was relieved when the man finally left.
Grant assisted Rodney out of his chair and supported him as he shuffled slowly over to the bed. Rodney would have collapsed onto the soft surface in a painfully uncoordinated fall if his cousin had not supported him as he changed position from standing, to sitting, to lying in the bed. Rodney was asleep within five minutes.
Grant was nervous about leaving his cousin alone. He spied Rodney's discarded radio, and smiled as an idea took shape. He modified the communication device he'd been given to wear so that it would send a continuous signal to the earpiece of Rodney's radio. He set the device next to Rodney's bed, and placed the earpiece on his own head, satisfied when he heard Rodney's soft, snuffling snores from both the room and the radio. Now that Grant could monitor Rodney from a distance, he set off to find Radek.
*****
Radek at work in Atlantis was as predictable as Rodney. The result of that fortunate coincidence was that Grant found the scientist in the first place that he looked: the lab. Grant stood uncertainly in the doorway, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. He wasn't sure if their brief acquaintance was such that the man would not take offense if Grant were to ask a favor. However, for Rodney's sake, he had to try.
It might have taken him far longer to work up the courage to speak if Radek had not smiled and greeted him. "Hello. How is Rodney? Do you need anything?"
Grant wasn't sure if Radek was asking for a detailed report of Rodney's condition, or if he was merely seeking an update on current events. He tentatively offered, "Rodney's tired. He's asleep."
Radek nodded. "Yes, yes of course." He paused, then asked, "Is there something you need?"
Grant relaxed, pleased at the implied offer. "Yes. Tools, please."
Rodney slept the rest of the day away as Grant locked himself away in his laboratory and began to work on his new project. It was actually an old project given new inspiration, a project that he'd begun on Earth but had never had the time to finish. Fortunately the Stargate Command staffers who had packed up his belongings included any and everything of possible usefulness.
*****
Rodney felt a bit better next day, which was good, but also bad, as it gave Grant less time than he would have liked to complete his project. He was relieved when Rodney finally decided to take a nap. Using the same radio setup from the previous day, Grant hurried to his laboratory.
Rodney slept until dinnertime, which gave Grant all the time he needed. He took one of the boxes he'd saved after his computer had been set up, and carefully placed his completed project within the box. He returned to his sleeping cousin, being careful not to wake him as he quietly took a seat at the side of the bed. The box was balanced carefully upon his lap, as he sat and watched Rodney sleep.
Rodney woke to the realization that he was not alone. He felt eyes staring at him, and was not surprised to find Grant seated at his bedside. He was surprised to see that Grant was holding a box as carefully as if it contained a ZedPM. Rodney stretched carefully, trying to work some of the stiffness out of injured muscles aching with inactivity. Rodney wiped a hand across his face to remove trace amounts of sleep grit and sweat, and pushed himself up to sit sideways on the bed.
Grant's smile was so enthusiastic that Rodney could not help but smile in return. He greeted his cousin: "Hey, Grant," and pointed an index finger at the new addition to his room. "What's in the box?"
Rodney didn't think it was possible, but Grant's smile grew even wider. "It's a present." He held out the box and added, "For you."
Rodney took the box carefully from his cousin and placed it next to him on the bed. He stated, "Thank you, but it's not even my birthday …" He forgot what he was going to say as he opened the flaps of the box and beheld its contents.
Grant's good hand nervously twisted and massaged his injured hand as he watched Rodney reverently remove his present from the box. Rodney's eyes widened in disbelief, his voice a combination of awe and elation as he whispered, "Oh. My. God!"
Rodney was holding a foot-high metallic object that looked like a nubby salt shaker with a stick for a nose. He held it at arms-length as he twisted and turned the object to admire and observe Grant's handiwork from every possible angle.
His pain and injuries forgotten, Rodney exclaimed, "This is exquisite! Dr. Who is one of the few recorded television programs that we brought along when we first came to Atlantis, so I've seen the episodes so many times that I have all of the dialogue memorized, and I know for a fact that this is an exact replica of a Dalek. Where did you get this?"
Grant looked away, suddenly feeling embarrassed and humbled. He knew that the replica was not exact; for one thing, it was considerably smaller than it should have been. Grant confessed, "I made it, but I would have made it life-sized if I had more time and materials."
Rodney placed a gentle hand on Grant's shoulder. Grant looked up into an expression of love and approval. Rodney declared, "It's perfect just the way it is."
Grant could see that Rodney spoke the exact truth. He relaxed, and pointed toward the box. "There's a controller."
Rodney reached for the box and removed something that bore more than a passing resemblance to a game control box. He set the Dalek on the floor and began to manipulate the buttons and levers. The Dalek rolled forward, backward, and spun around as it repeated in a robotic voice, "Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"
Between smiles and laughs, Rodney declared, "This is the best present *ever*!"
Grant had thought that it would be; hoped that it would be; but he was beyond relieved at Rodney's joyful acceptance. He would make a hundred Daleks if it meant that he would see the current expression on Rodney's face make a return appearance. For now, he said the only words he could think of: "Thank you."
*****
~end
*****
If you'd like to see a rather strange Dalek with an equally odd Hewlett, go here:
http://www.david-hewlett.co.uk/DHThankYou2.htm