Picture (Stargate Atlantis oneshot)
Title: Picture
Rating: G - PG
Genre: Missing scene/Introspective Angst
Characters: Rodney, Sheppard
Spoilers: SGA SEASON 3: SUNDAY
Summary: While clearing out a room, Rodney stops to reflect on a picture he finds (Something of an extended scene from Sunday)
Disclaimer: If I owned SGA I would know what the heck they're up to, wouldn't I?
AN: Slightly paraphrased quote in the beginning, but I take my author's perogative on this one. It was a sudden inspiration when I went to bed last night. Needless to say, MAJOR SPOILERS for Sunday.
I don't ship Rodney/Carson as anything more than best friends, but take it as you will.
I also don't ship John/Rodney, either ;p
My first foray into SGA ficverse o.o
-- Thanks to sgafan33 for tips about the characters and spelling
-----
Picture
"What's done is done."
"I know...And...that's what's killing me."
He was supposed to be gathering up possessions, putting them in boxes to stow away and never be seen again. He was supposed to be cleaning up any traces of him ever living here.
All he seemed to be able to do for the past half hour was obsess over the photo-frame he'd found, as if it held some hidden scientific formula that would destroy the Wraith once and for all. Or better yet, allow him to wake up from this nightmare that masqueraded as a Sunday.
He still wasn't sure when Cadman had time to take any pictures that day, but he remembered clearly when Carson had handed over his copy with a bright grin. What had he done with it? Stuffed it in the box of unused crap he never wanted to see again.
Real nice.
He sighed heavily, and sat down on the edge of a nearby bed. What was that movie where that kid could go back in time by looking at pictures? What he wouldn't give to go back and redo his friendship correctly. What he'd do to find an Ancient time machine and go back and drag his friend along for that fishing trip, causality be damned.
Of course, the only time machine they'd ever found was incapable of jumps shorter than 200 years (and even that was theoretical, considering they hadn't ever GONE anywhere with it).
No...there would be no do-overs, no reset buttons, no rewind-and-fix. As his companion had said before...what was done, was done. And it killed him a little more every time he thought about it.
He was an (almost) unrivalled scientific genius, capable of figuring any convoluted Ancient technology out within a few days. He fixed hopeless situations without casualties on an almost-daily-basis. How many times now had he saved every single person on Atlantis? He was going to have to go back over the mission reports and count--for record's sake.
So sometimes he'd lose a ZPM or blow up a solar system...in the end he'd always worked it out, hadn't he?
Except...there wasn't a way to work this one out. There was no last minute saviors, no spontanious ascension, no escape. He'd seen the body, he'd been the one to carry it--him--to the metal case that would be the final resting place of the one who'd been his closest friend no matter how bull-headed he was.
The one he had killed. There was no getting around it, and he would make sure to note it in his report: The whole incident was his fault. He wouldn't even attempt to deny it. Maybe that's why it still hurt so much.
He placed the frame back on the desk (Wait, wasn't he supposed to be putting it away somewhere? Where do you put a picture?). Not long ago he'd made a decision to make a conscious effort to grow closer to all of his friends and loved ones, to have the bond with them that his alternate universe self had with his. Of all the people on Atlantis, he should have figured it would be Carson who would remind him of it as soon as he'd started to lose sight of it.
He swallowed softly, and stood up. Cleaning, that was it. He was supposed to be cleaning up the room--clearing it out to be ready for whatever doctor that would...
No. That wasn't something to think about just yet.
He looked across the room silently, gaze taking in the arrayed sheets of some sort of unfinished report, or theory, or diary entry, splayed across a nearby table. You'd never know by looking that he wasn't just about to come walking in asking what emergency was about to interrupt his off-time.
"Hey."
The voice nearly made him jump, as he spun toward the doorway to see a concerned-looking Sheppard watching him with a frown.
"You okay?"
He laughed slightly at the thought. Why did people keep asking that? "No."
The dark-haired man nodded, and walked into the room. "Yeah. Me either."
He nodded. There wasn't anything more to say, really. Just the same thing he'd said to Elizabeth, and Ronan, and everyone else that had asked.
"Maybe going fishing with him wouldn't have been so bad."
He glared at his team-mate. "I know. It's my fault. Lets all blame Rodney, and we'll feel better! He said he was going to find someone else to go with--I didn't know he'd just cancel it!"
The man quirked an eyebrow at him, before giving an annoyed scowl. "I was talking about myself, Rodney. And unless you turned on that machine and made everyone else avoid the fishing trip, I think you're hogging some of that blame."
He blinked in confusion at the words of the colonel. "Everyone else?"
The man's lips quirked into an awkward half smile. "You didn't think he only asked you, did you, Rodney?"
"Well..."
His friend nodded, still half-smiling. "So. You gonna keep that picture?"
He blinked and looked around the room in surprise for a moment, before realizing he had picked up the frame again. When...how had he done that? He was staring at it again when Sheppard interrupted him with a small cough.
"Rodney?"
"What if I do?"
"Do what you want."
He frowned at the picture a few more moments. "Where to you store a picture, anyway?"
"Usually somewhere you can see."
"No, I mean..."
"Rodney..." John Sheppard sighed. "Its almost time for the cerimony, you go get ready, I'll finish this up--and by finish, I mean get started."
"No..." He shook his head emphatically. "No. This is my job. I want to."
The man nodded, and turned back to where he came from. "Don't be late."
He snorted, and placed the picture on the bed, before turning to pack up some of Carson's medical journals, and carefully arranged the papers that would never be finished. The frame wouldn't go into a box, however. Pictures weren't meant to be squirrelled away in boxes, collecting dust and mold.
He decided his room was missing something. A picture. He picked up the picture frame once more as he looked across the now almost-empty room. Maybe this one would do just right.
He smiled softly, gratefully, a smile long overdue. "Thanks, Carson. For everything."
END
-----
AN: It's slightly AU depending on how you look at it...but I dunno, the end of Sunday was kind of confusing for me, and not quite satisfying. Also...I haven't seen past Return Part 1 (or maybe 2), so I'm not 100% on all the details (like promotions).
Rating: G - PG
Genre: Missing scene/Introspective Angst
Characters: Rodney, Sheppard
Spoilers: SGA SEASON 3: SUNDAY
Summary: While clearing out a room, Rodney stops to reflect on a picture he finds (Something of an extended scene from Sunday)
Disclaimer: If I owned SGA I would know what the heck they're up to, wouldn't I?
AN: Slightly paraphrased quote in the beginning, but I take my author's perogative on this one. It was a sudden inspiration when I went to bed last night. Needless to say, MAJOR SPOILERS for Sunday.
I don't ship Rodney/Carson as anything more than best friends, but take it as you will.
I also don't ship John/Rodney, either ;p
My first foray into SGA ficverse o.o
-- Thanks to sgafan33 for tips about the characters and spelling
-----
Picture
"What's done is done."
"I know...And...that's what's killing me."
He was supposed to be gathering up possessions, putting them in boxes to stow away and never be seen again. He was supposed to be cleaning up any traces of him ever living here.
All he seemed to be able to do for the past half hour was obsess over the photo-frame he'd found, as if it held some hidden scientific formula that would destroy the Wraith once and for all. Or better yet, allow him to wake up from this nightmare that masqueraded as a Sunday.
He still wasn't sure when Cadman had time to take any pictures that day, but he remembered clearly when Carson had handed over his copy with a bright grin. What had he done with it? Stuffed it in the box of unused crap he never wanted to see again.
Real nice.
He sighed heavily, and sat down on the edge of a nearby bed. What was that movie where that kid could go back in time by looking at pictures? What he wouldn't give to go back and redo his friendship correctly. What he'd do to find an Ancient time machine and go back and drag his friend along for that fishing trip, causality be damned.
Of course, the only time machine they'd ever found was incapable of jumps shorter than 200 years (and even that was theoretical, considering they hadn't ever GONE anywhere with it).
No...there would be no do-overs, no reset buttons, no rewind-and-fix. As his companion had said before...what was done, was done. And it killed him a little more every time he thought about it.
He was an (almost) unrivalled scientific genius, capable of figuring any convoluted Ancient technology out within a few days. He fixed hopeless situations without casualties on an almost-daily-basis. How many times now had he saved every single person on Atlantis? He was going to have to go back over the mission reports and count--for record's sake.
So sometimes he'd lose a ZPM or blow up a solar system...in the end he'd always worked it out, hadn't he?
Except...there wasn't a way to work this one out. There was no last minute saviors, no spontanious ascension, no escape. He'd seen the body, he'd been the one to carry it--him--to the metal case that would be the final resting place of the one who'd been his closest friend no matter how bull-headed he was.
The one he had killed. There was no getting around it, and he would make sure to note it in his report: The whole incident was his fault. He wouldn't even attempt to deny it. Maybe that's why it still hurt so much.
He placed the frame back on the desk (Wait, wasn't he supposed to be putting it away somewhere? Where do you put a picture?). Not long ago he'd made a decision to make a conscious effort to grow closer to all of his friends and loved ones, to have the bond with them that his alternate universe self had with his. Of all the people on Atlantis, he should have figured it would be Carson who would remind him of it as soon as he'd started to lose sight of it.
He swallowed softly, and stood up. Cleaning, that was it. He was supposed to be cleaning up the room--clearing it out to be ready for whatever doctor that would...
No. That wasn't something to think about just yet.
He looked across the room silently, gaze taking in the arrayed sheets of some sort of unfinished report, or theory, or diary entry, splayed across a nearby table. You'd never know by looking that he wasn't just about to come walking in asking what emergency was about to interrupt his off-time.
"Hey."
The voice nearly made him jump, as he spun toward the doorway to see a concerned-looking Sheppard watching him with a frown.
"You okay?"
He laughed slightly at the thought. Why did people keep asking that? "No."
The dark-haired man nodded, and walked into the room. "Yeah. Me either."
He nodded. There wasn't anything more to say, really. Just the same thing he'd said to Elizabeth, and Ronan, and everyone else that had asked.
"Maybe going fishing with him wouldn't have been so bad."
He glared at his team-mate. "I know. It's my fault. Lets all blame Rodney, and we'll feel better! He said he was going to find someone else to go with--I didn't know he'd just cancel it!"
The man quirked an eyebrow at him, before giving an annoyed scowl. "I was talking about myself, Rodney. And unless you turned on that machine and made everyone else avoid the fishing trip, I think you're hogging some of that blame."
He blinked in confusion at the words of the colonel. "Everyone else?"
The man's lips quirked into an awkward half smile. "You didn't think he only asked you, did you, Rodney?"
"Well..."
His friend nodded, still half-smiling. "So. You gonna keep that picture?"
He blinked and looked around the room in surprise for a moment, before realizing he had picked up the frame again. When...how had he done that? He was staring at it again when Sheppard interrupted him with a small cough.
"Rodney?"
"What if I do?"
"Do what you want."
He frowned at the picture a few more moments. "Where to you store a picture, anyway?"
"Usually somewhere you can see."
"No, I mean..."
"Rodney..." John Sheppard sighed. "Its almost time for the cerimony, you go get ready, I'll finish this up--and by finish, I mean get started."
"No..." He shook his head emphatically. "No. This is my job. I want to."
The man nodded, and turned back to where he came from. "Don't be late."
He snorted, and placed the picture on the bed, before turning to pack up some of Carson's medical journals, and carefully arranged the papers that would never be finished. The frame wouldn't go into a box, however. Pictures weren't meant to be squirrelled away in boxes, collecting dust and mold.
He decided his room was missing something. A picture. He picked up the picture frame once more as he looked across the now almost-empty room. Maybe this one would do just right.
He smiled softly, gratefully, a smile long overdue. "Thanks, Carson. For everything."
END
-----
AN: It's slightly AU depending on how you look at it...but I dunno, the end of Sunday was kind of confusing for me, and not quite satisfying. Also...I haven't seen past Return Part 1 (or maybe 2), so I'm not 100% on all the details (like promotions).