Long December
Jeannie turned her car onto the driveway of their parents' house and stopped. She glanced over at her brother.
Rodney stared at the house. Despite its weathered appearance it looked much the same as it had when he'd left it all those years ago. It had been Thanksgiving, he remembered that clearly. Typical family get-together - the turkey was too dry, his father was too drunk, and the resulting row between them was probably audible throughout the entire neighbourhood.
Maybe he'd been young, but he certainly wasn't stupid. Even if his father thought so. Although storming out of the house might not have been the best way of getting that point across, but he'd been furiously angry. His parents might not have believed in him, but that was just fine. He had more than enough self-confidence, despite the years of bullying both at home and at school.
That confidence, along with a damned good dose of stubbornness, had been the only thing that had kept him going and going until he'd reached Atlantis. Well, more or less. He was aware he could still be as stubborn as ever; the whole Ancient weapon catastrophe was evidence of that and he wasn't quite as sure of himself as he had been.
Aware that Jeannie had gotten out of the car and was waiting for him at the front door, Rodney followed suit. As he walked towards the house he was assaulted by memories, very few of them pleasant. If he could have avoided this situation, he would have done, but he'd needed to get out of Atlantis for a little while. Plus Elizabeth would have dragged him here if he'd refused.
That thought made him smile faintly as Jeannie unlocked the door and went in. For a moment he hung on the doorstep. She paused and gave him a somewhat sad smile of understanding. He nodded slightly and went in.
As she had told him, most of the things were gone and it was odd to see the familiar hall bare of the clutter he remembered. It was still uncomfortable being here though. He had no intention of being any longer than was absolutely necessary.
“So?” He looked at Jeannie curiously.
“Back room,” she said quietly. She waited until he passed her, then followed him down the hallway. Her eyes were intently on his face as he opened the door to the back room. Rodney stared at the solitary thing within, then looked at her in disbelief. She smiled at him gently.
Against the wall was an upright piano. It was made of a dark mahogany that glowed slightly in the sunlight and drew Rodney to it like a moth to a flame. He wandered across the room and trailed a hand over the top. The wood was smooth and flawless under his palm. His eyes took in the bronzed hinges and foot pedals. He raised the cover and it lifted without a sound. Under it, ebony sat next to ivory in perfect condition.
“Mom said she should have said something... to Father, to Johnston. She said... she said it wasn't fair and...” Jeannie stopped and swallowed. “When Father died, there was all the life insurance but she already knew about the cancer. Knew they couldn't do... anything. She didn't tell me until she couldn't get in touch with you and she was in hospital more than she was out of it.”
Rodney nodded vaguely but didn't reply. A memory surfaced, his tutor packing away his music and tossing the bad to one side, disdain on his face. 'A fine clinical player... but no sense of the art whatsoever'. That what you got from taking lessons from a guy who was a friend of your father, he supposed.
There was a stool tucked under the piano. He hooked it and pulled it out with one foot. He sat slowly, his fingers drifting over the keys.
Jeannie swallowed the lump in her throat. “Look, I need to get those things,” she said, deciding he might need a moment alone. “I shouldn't be long.”
Backing out of the room, she headed up the stairs. For all the cost, she knew it was a token gesture, their mother had been that honest. And desperate to mend things that would remain forever broken. She reached the top of the stairs and then froze as a single note drifted up. Her hand tightened on the handrail. Jeannie found herself unable to breathe as one note became two and then another, the scale tentative and agonisingly slow.
The scale turned to something else, a tune she remembered from her childhood. Something deep within her shattered and she ran to the room she'd once called her own. Like the rest of the house it was mostly empty, and she headed to the window, leaning against the wall to stare outside. Not that she could see much through her tears.
The phrase was that you never forgot how to ride a bike. There was a way of learning so profound that even years later it could be recalled in an instant. Rodney was startled about how much he could remember. His fingers moved almost automatically in an intricate dance, a part of his brain providing the information as he went from note to note. It was like travelling down a well-remembered but little used road, remembering the turns as you came to each junction; like how he'd been able to find his way back to his home town without checking a map simply because it was ingrained. Even though he hadn't been aware of that fact.
He stopped suddenly as he realised just what he was doing. There was no manuscript, it had come from inside - his mind, his heart and he understood as if a window had been opened. No sense of the art indeed. Screw that. Of course it might have been true then, but there were better ways of putting it to a twelve-year old boy who'd learnt that all emotion got him was a whithering look at best.
He'd told his mother, never mentioned it to his father, and been completely unsurprised when nothing was said or done. He doubted they'd even noticed he'd stopped practising, until they'd gotten short of cash and sold the old piano. His piano, bought with sayings given to him by his grandmother. It had been yet another dream shattered, the pieces pushed to one side. Until now he had never considered going back to it, but... A long-forgotten part of his soul had awoken and he wondered whether he dared.
Rodney gave a soft laugh. He'd faced Wraith for crying out loud, he could take the piano back to Atlantis and handle the odd looks he knew he'd get. And he made his decision - he would take it to Atlantis. If only because having to carry it would piss Caldwell off no end. It wasn't the best excuse ever, but it made him grin suddenly. He'd have to arrange for it to be transported to the SGC but that shouldn't be too much trouble.
Maybe he could follow one dream after all. In fact... he brightened, filled with a sudden determination, in fact he would. He imagined the faces of John and Aiden as they sat listening to him play. He wondered what Elizabeth would think of it all and he blushed, glancing round the empty room, thankful that Jeannie was still upstairs.
Thinking of his sister made him wonder where she'd had gotten too. She had said she wouldn't be long. Getting up off the stool, he trudged up the stairs to find her.
She was in her old room and she turned as he entered. She'd been crying and she wiped the tears off her face, giving him a wan smile.
“I'm so sorry,” she whispered.
Rodney blinked at that. “What for?”
“For Mom, for Father. For everything, I guess.”
“How anything your fault?”
“I never even realised, not properly,” she confessed uneasily. “But then, I wouldn't have because I wasn't the one they ignored.”
“Jeannie, you were a kid. Kids seeks attention. It was up to them to keep things even.”
“No wonder you hated me.”
Rodney shook his head and went to her, capturing her in a huge hug. “I never did, you silly thing.” He paused. “Expect at times like the whole ant farm incident.”
Jeannie laughed and blushed. “Yeah well... I was five. What can I say?”
“It wasn't your fault, Jeannie,” he said firmly. “It was just one of those things. In a way, I'm grateful.”
“Grateful?” she echoed in disbelief.
“Yeah. They just made me even more determined to succeed.”
“To get the hell out, you mean.”
“There was that, yes.” His eyes slipped from her face to the view outside. “And I'm definitely out.”
Jeannie pulled away, her eyes narrowing at his slip.
“You know, I might not be as intelligent as you, but neither am I stupid. You aren't in Manhattan. I got your message. I wasn't going to say anything but...”
“I can't say anything.” Rodney told her.
“I know. This thing you're doing - it's dangerous isn't it?”
“There are risks yes.”
“Why don't you come home?”
Rodney sighed. “It is home,” he said, the truth of that hitting him hard. “I wish I could tell you...” He paused, then carefully continued. “It's wonderful, it really is. You've never seen anything so incredible. And the people really are great.”
Jeannie smiled at his enthusiasm. It was something she'd not seen for a very long time.
“You. A people person. Never thought I'd see the day.”
“Yeah well,” he dropped his eyes to the carpet, a small smile on his face. “I'd not met these people.”
She looked at the expression on his face. “You've met someone,” she said startled.
He looked up then, going wide-eyed and seeming almost petrified by that observation.
“No...”
“Then you at least have your eyes on someone,” she retorted. “I know that look Rodney, don't even try to deny it. All I have to say is it's about bloody time!”
“No, Jeannie, really. I... um. It's not... like that. It's...” Rodney stopped, thinking about that for a moment. “It's kinda complicated.”
“Of course it is. Making things complicated is your forte.”
“Gee thanks.”
“Well it's true. A word of advice - don't over analyse it. Just let it be.”
“I don't think she...”
“And that's what I mean. Don't think for her. If you like her, I'm sure she's intelligent enough to make up her own mind.”
Rodney didn't answer that, he was too busy thinking about Elizabeth. He liked her, he knew that, he just hadn't realised how much until Jeannie had seen something of it. It was something he'd have to think about on the way back. Eighteen days of thinking about it. He grinned.
“Might be a good idea. She'll string me up if I start deciding things for her.”
“She sounds like a strong woman.”
“God yeah. She's incredible.”
“Oh you have got it bad.”
“No... maybe.”
Jeannie laughed and stopped teasing him. “So you'll definitely be going... back.”
Rodney nodded. “I have to. And I want to.”
“And the piano?”
“Oh that's coming too.”
“Really?” Jeannie was delighted. “Oh good, I'm so glad.”
“Yeah... well I need to ring a few people,” he told her. “Organise transport and such like. So I'll get on that and then we can go.”