[SGA] Telling My Dreams To The Scarecrow
Title: Telling My Dreams To The Scarecrow
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1000
Summary: John struggles with things he wants Rodney to know, but doesn't want to say.
Notes: This was written for the
challenge, based on this picture, and is set after "The Tao of Rodney." Many thanks to miriam for the beta.
Originally Posted: February 27, 2007
Telling My Dreams To The Scarecrow
It's after Rodney's brush with ascension that John starts writing.
--------
In the event of his death, the when and how will take care of themselves. The what and where will be provided by the government.
The whys are what John thinks about and wants to explain, if only to Rodney.
There's a distance between scientist and soldier they've never been able to cross, even though they're as close as John's ever been to anyone. He's reminded of it with every question Rodney doesn't ask, every answer he doesn't offer.
There are things he wants Rodney wants to know, but doesn't want to say. He's a man capable of many things, but those conversations are not among them. He never claimed he wasn't ever a coward.
So he writes. The pen and paper feel foreign in his hands, weighty.
He starts, ostensibly, from the beginning.
Elizabeth will take care of the arrangements, he writes. She's a diplomat -- it's not that different from being a soldier's wife. I asked her because I didn't want anyone else to be bothered.
He stops then. They're only a few words, but somehow they seem like more than he intended to say. If they're to be his last, he wants them to be right, so he scratches them out and puts the page away for later.
In the morning, he stumbles over a boot he'd carelessly left on the floor and spills coffee on the page. It's an accident.
--------
I was married once, he tries again. It didn't last, obviously. I wanted our first dance to be to Johnny Cash. It was the only request I made. She said no. A month later, someone asked what our first dance had been. I couldn't remember.
He doesn't write about the way she left, so tired and frustrated, like she'd been trying too hard for too long. He hadn't even known he'd been doing anything wrong.
He folds the paper into a crane and slips it into his pocket for Heightmeyer. That afternoon they go on a mission to P6X-482 and the rain douses their first campfire. He uses the crane for kindling.
--------
My IQ is 135. I just barely meet that requirement for Mensa. But I aced the SATs -- twice.
He wonders if Rodney knows that, if he hacked John's records soon after they returned from Dagan if he hadn't already. It makes him wonder what else Rodney might know about him, and that thought's always made him uncomfortable. He stops writing.
The next time he opens his window, the paper gets caught on a strong breeze and blows away. He reaches for it, but he's not fast enough.
--------
My call sign is Moses. It was Mary when I was in the Academy, but I got rid of that pretty quick. It's a long story, but I've told you bits and pieces of it. A smart guy like you should be able to put it together.
But Moses makes him think of Captain Holland, of Mitch and Dex. He doesn't leave his people behind. Rodney already knows that.
He leaves the sheet of paper in his office when he hits the mess for dinner. It crashes into the ocean the next time he flies paper airplanes from the balcony with Lorne. Somehow he didn't notice the ink in the folding.
--------
When the Genii invaded during the storm, you got a lot of credit for saving the city. You should have gotten more. When Kolya had you and Elizabeth and it was down to me, I thought about what you would do. I figured you'd probably ask if I had an idea that didn't come from Die Hard. I did, but it wasn't the one I chose.
That was all you.
He wants to say thank you, but he isn't sure how. He leaves the page near his laptop so he'll be sure to see it first thing in the morning. But it looks like all the other papers in his room, and it gets mixed in with the performance reviews he takes to the shredder.
--------
That night you saw me in the eastern residential block last summer, I know you thought I was coming out of Dr. Ambrose's quarters. I wasn't.
Sometimes I have nightmares and can't sleep. It helps to walk around the city.
He doesn't ascribe any particular value to stoicism. His standing appointment with Heightmeyer is right before Rodney's; they've passed each other in the corridor looking like they've gone a few rounds more than once. Still, it sounds almost intimate. He doesn't want that.
The paper falls out of his clipboard when he follows Zelenka into the jumper bay later for diagnostics. When he steps on it, it rips in two, right through the ink.
--------
When you were going to ascend and I said, "The way a friend feels about another friend," I meant that the skies would look different without you, and I'd notice every time I fly.
But that sounds vague and trite, like something he'd pick up at the Atlantis version of Hallmark. It's not at all what he wants to say.
He writes again.
I didn't want you on my team at first. I asked Elizabeth just to see what she would do, if she'd really send both her heads of science and military into the field. I was sure I couldn't wait to get rid of you. I had all my excuses ready before we even went on our first mission.
You know what they say about assumptions.
But there's so much more to it than that. He wants Rodney to read between the lines, wants him to understand the things John himself sometimes doesn't. He wants Rodney to know that he used to dream of being on Atlantis alone, forgotten. Now he dreams the inverse, them without him, remembering.
And wondering.
He doesn't want Rodney to wonder. He wants him to know.
--------
It's late, but he knocks anyway. "Hey," he says, leaning in Rodney's doorway. "Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about some things."
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1000
Summary: John struggles with things he wants Rodney to know, but doesn't want to say.
Notes: This was written for the
challenge, based on this picture, and is set after "The Tao of Rodney." Many thanks to miriam for the beta.
Originally Posted: February 27, 2007
Telling My Dreams To The Scarecrow
It's after Rodney's brush with ascension that John starts writing.
--------
In the event of his death, the when and how will take care of themselves. The what and where will be provided by the government.
The whys are what John thinks about and wants to explain, if only to Rodney.
There's a distance between scientist and soldier they've never been able to cross, even though they're as close as John's ever been to anyone. He's reminded of it with every question Rodney doesn't ask, every answer he doesn't offer.
There are things he wants Rodney wants to know, but doesn't want to say. He's a man capable of many things, but those conversations are not among them. He never claimed he wasn't ever a coward.
So he writes. The pen and paper feel foreign in his hands, weighty.
He starts, ostensibly, from the beginning.
Elizabeth will take care of the arrangements, he writes. She's a diplomat -- it's not that different from being a soldier's wife. I asked her because I didn't want anyone else to be bothered.
He stops then. They're only a few words, but somehow they seem like more than he intended to say. If they're to be his last, he wants them to be right, so he scratches them out and puts the page away for later.
In the morning, he stumbles over a boot he'd carelessly left on the floor and spills coffee on the page. It's an accident.
--------
I was married once, he tries again. It didn't last, obviously. I wanted our first dance to be to Johnny Cash. It was the only request I made. She said no. A month later, someone asked what our first dance had been. I couldn't remember.
He doesn't write about the way she left, so tired and frustrated, like she'd been trying too hard for too long. He hadn't even known he'd been doing anything wrong.
He folds the paper into a crane and slips it into his pocket for Heightmeyer. That afternoon they go on a mission to P6X-482 and the rain douses their first campfire. He uses the crane for kindling.
--------
My IQ is 135. I just barely meet that requirement for Mensa. But I aced the SATs -- twice.
He wonders if Rodney knows that, if he hacked John's records soon after they returned from Dagan if he hadn't already. It makes him wonder what else Rodney might know about him, and that thought's always made him uncomfortable. He stops writing.
The next time he opens his window, the paper gets caught on a strong breeze and blows away. He reaches for it, but he's not fast enough.
--------
My call sign is Moses. It was Mary when I was in the Academy, but I got rid of that pretty quick. It's a long story, but I've told you bits and pieces of it. A smart guy like you should be able to put it together.
But Moses makes him think of Captain Holland, of Mitch and Dex. He doesn't leave his people behind. Rodney already knows that.
He leaves the sheet of paper in his office when he hits the mess for dinner. It crashes into the ocean the next time he flies paper airplanes from the balcony with Lorne. Somehow he didn't notice the ink in the folding.
--------
When the Genii invaded during the storm, you got a lot of credit for saving the city. You should have gotten more. When Kolya had you and Elizabeth and it was down to me, I thought about what you would do. I figured you'd probably ask if I had an idea that didn't come from Die Hard. I did, but it wasn't the one I chose.
That was all you.
He wants to say thank you, but he isn't sure how. He leaves the page near his laptop so he'll be sure to see it first thing in the morning. But it looks like all the other papers in his room, and it gets mixed in with the performance reviews he takes to the shredder.
--------
That night you saw me in the eastern residential block last summer, I know you thought I was coming out of Dr. Ambrose's quarters. I wasn't.
Sometimes I have nightmares and can't sleep. It helps to walk around the city.
He doesn't ascribe any particular value to stoicism. His standing appointment with Heightmeyer is right before Rodney's; they've passed each other in the corridor looking like they've gone a few rounds more than once. Still, it sounds almost intimate. He doesn't want that.
The paper falls out of his clipboard when he follows Zelenka into the jumper bay later for diagnostics. When he steps on it, it rips in two, right through the ink.
--------
When you were going to ascend and I said, "The way a friend feels about another friend," I meant that the skies would look different without you, and I'd notice every time I fly.
But that sounds vague and trite, like something he'd pick up at the Atlantis version of Hallmark. It's not at all what he wants to say.
He writes again.
I didn't want you on my team at first. I asked Elizabeth just to see what she would do, if she'd really send both her heads of science and military into the field. I was sure I couldn't wait to get rid of you. I had all my excuses ready before we even went on our first mission.
You know what they say about assumptions.
But there's so much more to it than that. He wants Rodney to read between the lines, wants him to understand the things John himself sometimes doesn't. He wants Rodney to know that he used to dream of being on Atlantis alone, forgotten. Now he dreams the inverse, them without him, remembering.
And wondering.
He doesn't want Rodney to wonder. He wants him to know.
--------
It's late, but he knocks anyway. "Hey," he says, leaning in Rodney's doorway. "Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about some things."