Fic: Letters from Milky Way (Stargate Atlantis)
Title: Letters from Milky Way
Author: fydyan
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Rating: PG
Spoilers: The Return part 1 (and McKay & Mrs. Miller)
Pairings: McKay/Dex
Summary: Rodney writes. Rodney tries to write.
Dear Dex. Hello. Hi. Hey there. Hello, caveman. Hey, Ronon.
Things here are. How are. It's strange, being. Being back here is. Well, we're home. If you can call it that. Which you can't. Which I never imagined, which seems stupid now. We've been back for just over a week now, and it's strange to be here. Stranger than Pegasus, in some ways, because there at least the unexpected was - well - expected. But the predictability that weirdness (or crisis - or usually both) would ensue was part of the daily equation. They just don't. Even the SG teams can't seem to. Safety is a myth, and they just don't. Can't. Won't. Incredulity is getting tiresome.
Earth is also predictable, but placid. The big coffee crisis was that someone had forgotten to buy some. I told them that it's not a real coffee crisis until you've raided all the MREs and then broken out the methamphetamines. The nitwits thought I was kidding. I want. I can't. It's not just the adrenaline, I swear. I miss. Fieldwork sucked sometimes, but at least. Despite running my own lab here, I can't shake the feeling that I'm not really doing anything. There's no sense of urgency, so everyone is just. . . plodding along, testing and retesting and insisting on getting approval. I was the one who. They just don't. The Earth is safe, and it's stupid to wish. I hate.
I almost killed a minion. I wanted to. I've been practicing what you taught me. I got "spoken to" about the knives. Honestly, I don't see what the problem is. If that brainless monkey hadn't mis-wired the generator interface (and really, they're color coded), I wouldn't have had to sever the connection with the generator. And if base security didn't know I was armed, that's their fault. What's the point of concealed weapons if everyone knows you're carrying them? As if I have to tell you. They say we're safe. They say "secure base". In soft voices, from a distance. Idiots. And they don't believe. There hasn't been a war. The whole concept of. The whole reality of. A siege is fantasy. They haven't found all my knives yet.
But Kate says. I think. She understands, at least. It's not. Earth rules don't apply. How we're supposed to live here now. I've been talking to Kate a lot. She's doing phone counseling, can you believe it? Calling all the refugees (and boy does it piss off Landry to keep hearing that word) just to "check in". She'll never be out a job, at this rate. It was her idea. I'm only writing because. She thought. You know. Regrets. We're supposed to deal. Somehow. And my lab is dark and dreary and I never thought I'd miss the sun.
John's offworld. Again. He doesn't seem. None of us are. Elizabeth's not. Miko cried, and, okay, but so did Radek. And I admit. But things just aren't. I can't. John hates. He misses. Sheppard's got a team of baby marines he takes through the gate. Never has his last name been so apt. He misses.
When you came. When you said. I don't know how. I miss. I'm glad. You surprised. I'm glad you came by to say goodbye. I can't believe we'll never. It's stupid and. I really miss. I want. I don't. You're not. I hope that things are well there. Calm, at least. Find joy. Wait. Don't. Remember. I miss you.
Sincerely. Yours, Rodney. Rodney McKay. Love. Meredith.
Author: fydyan
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Rating: PG
Spoilers: The Return part 1 (and McKay & Mrs. Miller)
Pairings: McKay/Dex
Summary: Rodney writes. Rodney tries to write.
Dear Dex. Hello. Hi. Hey there. Hello, caveman. Hey, Ronon.
Things here are. How are. It's strange, being. Being back here is. Well, we're home. If you can call it that. Which you can't. Which I never imagined, which seems stupid now. We've been back for just over a week now, and it's strange to be here. Stranger than Pegasus, in some ways, because there at least the unexpected was - well - expected. But the predictability that weirdness (or crisis - or usually both) would ensue was part of the daily equation. They just don't. Even the SG teams can't seem to. Safety is a myth, and they just don't. Can't. Won't. Incredulity is getting tiresome.
Earth is also predictable, but placid. The big coffee crisis was that someone had forgotten to buy some. I told them that it's not a real coffee crisis until you've raided all the MREs and then broken out the methamphetamines. The nitwits thought I was kidding. I want. I can't. It's not just the adrenaline, I swear. I miss. Fieldwork sucked sometimes, but at least. Despite running my own lab here, I can't shake the feeling that I'm not really doing anything. There's no sense of urgency, so everyone is just. . . plodding along, testing and retesting and insisting on getting approval. I was the one who. They just don't. The Earth is safe, and it's stupid to wish. I hate.
I almost killed a minion. I wanted to. I've been practicing what you taught me. I got "spoken to" about the knives. Honestly, I don't see what the problem is. If that brainless monkey hadn't mis-wired the generator interface (and really, they're color coded), I wouldn't have had to sever the connection with the generator. And if base security didn't know I was armed, that's their fault. What's the point of concealed weapons if everyone knows you're carrying them? As if I have to tell you. They say we're safe. They say "secure base". In soft voices, from a distance. Idiots. And they don't believe. There hasn't been a war. The whole concept of. The whole reality of. A siege is fantasy. They haven't found all my knives yet.
But Kate says. I think. She understands, at least. It's not. Earth rules don't apply. How we're supposed to live here now. I've been talking to Kate a lot. She's doing phone counseling, can you believe it? Calling all the refugees (and boy does it piss off Landry to keep hearing that word) just to "check in". She'll never be out a job, at this rate. It was her idea. I'm only writing because. She thought. You know. Regrets. We're supposed to deal. Somehow. And my lab is dark and dreary and I never thought I'd miss the sun.
John's offworld. Again. He doesn't seem. None of us are. Elizabeth's not. Miko cried, and, okay, but so did Radek. And I admit. But things just aren't. I can't. John hates. He misses. Sheppard's got a team of baby marines he takes through the gate. Never has his last name been so apt. He misses.
When you came. When you said. I don't know how. I miss. I'm glad. You surprised. I'm glad you came by to say goodbye. I can't believe we'll never. It's stupid and. I really miss. I want. I don't. You're not. I hope that things are well there. Calm, at least. Find joy. Wait. Don't. Remember. I miss you.
Sincerely. Yours, Rodney. Rodney McKay. Love. Meredith.