Challenge #26 fic: Final
Title: Final
Author: velocitygrass
Pairing: Rodney/Jennifer (sort of unrequited), John/Rodney (implied unresolved requited love)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: The Shrine
Word count: 847
Summary: He's not sure why he's watching the tapes. To remember maybe.
Note: Many thanks to neevebrody for the beta!
Final
He's not sure why he's watching the tapes. To remember maybe. He does remember, some things more than others. This is a chance to make sure. It's more than that though, he knows. There's a certain amount of curiosity. He wants to see it from a different perspective, from his real perspective with all his faculties intact.
He fast-forwards through most of the beginning, when it's just little things that he can't immediately recall. He sees the progression from where he felt slightly ridiculous about it all to when the fear starts to set in. He hears bits and pieces and it's getting harder to watch, but he does, because at least now he knows he'll get through this.
At Day 6 he stops. He remembers this. He knows what's coming, still he tries to prepare himself for it because actually seeing it will be different than a distant memory. He presses play and there it is.
"I love you. I've loved you for some time now."
It's strange to hear himself say the words. It's not that he can't feel it now. He does. There's this vague fantasy of a future with Jennifer. Marriage and kids and a home, a family. But there's also doubt and the knowledge coming from somewhere that it isn't right, that it can never be like he imagines it. He tries to shut off that train of thought. Maybe he really just thinks too much. He remembers their discussion about dating. He could do that, he could listen to what he's just heard and go for it.
He presses play again and it's just more of his struggle with his memories. He fast-forwards and watches the deterioration.
John starts appearing in the videos, when Rodney gets upset. He's mostly off-screen, but Rodney can see himself looking at him, can hear the encouraging, "Go on, buddy."
There's the moment of anger that he vividly remembers when he started shouting that this was useless and why did they want to record him slowly dying. Rodney can't bring himself to stop the tape. He watches himself, redfaced with terrified anger and then he crumbles and there's nothing but a plaintive "John".
He fast-forwards through the part where John takes him into his arms, reluctantly, awkwardly. His chest still tightens at the sight.
It gets better after that and by better he means that he's so far gone that the pain from losing everything that makes him him isn't as acute, because he no longer knows what he's missing. He watches himself, the simple joy of being with his friends, Jennifer, Radek, Teyla and Ronon. But it's nothing compared to the way his face lights up when he's with John.
Something gathers in Rodney's stomach like lead.
He keeps fast-forwarding, only catching glimpses here and there and it's painful to watch, because it isn't him, it can't be him, but yet, it is. That person is inside of him, Rodney stripped of higher brain functions. Rodney when he literally stops thinking so much.
He presses play again. He notes the day. This is when Jeannie came. He watches himself recite what little he can remember and then he stops and shouts for John. Again and again. He hears Jennifer trying to calm him down, but it doesn't stop it goes on and on and Rodney quickly stops the tape, switches it off completely because he can't watch anymore of this.
Clear blue skies
He tries to concentrate, to clear his mind, but then he shudders, because if he clears his mind, if he stops thinking, he's only feeling and what he feels is... God, he knows. He can't watch it and not know, but he shouldn't... He needs to think. His problem isn't that he's thinking too much. He's not thinking enough. Thinking, rational, objective. John.
The memories of the pier are among the sharpest in his mind. The fear that was still fresh in his mind, but also the calm that came from being with John.
He closes his eyes.
No. It's final.
He can see it and hear it and feel it. This is what he should think about. This is the only truth.
He thinks back to Day 6. He can never act on those feelings, on those dreams, because that's all they are, fantasies as far removed from reality as the idea that he could jump off the control tower, spread wings and fly. And he needs to think, to accept reality, because otherwise he might do something that can only end in disaster.
He avoids Jennifer the next couple of days and eventually she stops looking expectantly and starts looking understanding, resigned and sad too, but Rodney knows that it's better this way, has always known this, which was why he's never said anything.
John... He doesn't avoid John. He's tempted to, but there is nothing to avoid. So they have lunch and hang out and when they look at each other and Rodney can see it in John's eyes, he simply thinks one word over and over.
"Final. Final."
Final.
Author: velocitygrass
Pairing: Rodney/Jennifer (sort of unrequited), John/Rodney (implied unresolved requited love)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: The Shrine
Word count: 847
Summary: He's not sure why he's watching the tapes. To remember maybe.
Note: Many thanks to neevebrody for the beta!
Final
He's not sure why he's watching the tapes. To remember maybe. He does remember, some things more than others. This is a chance to make sure. It's more than that though, he knows. There's a certain amount of curiosity. He wants to see it from a different perspective, from his real perspective with all his faculties intact.
He fast-forwards through most of the beginning, when it's just little things that he can't immediately recall. He sees the progression from where he felt slightly ridiculous about it all to when the fear starts to set in. He hears bits and pieces and it's getting harder to watch, but he does, because at least now he knows he'll get through this.
At Day 6 he stops. He remembers this. He knows what's coming, still he tries to prepare himself for it because actually seeing it will be different than a distant memory. He presses play and there it is.
"I love you. I've loved you for some time now."
It's strange to hear himself say the words. It's not that he can't feel it now. He does. There's this vague fantasy of a future with Jennifer. Marriage and kids and a home, a family. But there's also doubt and the knowledge coming from somewhere that it isn't right, that it can never be like he imagines it. He tries to shut off that train of thought. Maybe he really just thinks too much. He remembers their discussion about dating. He could do that, he could listen to what he's just heard and go for it.
He presses play again and it's just more of his struggle with his memories. He fast-forwards and watches the deterioration.
John starts appearing in the videos, when Rodney gets upset. He's mostly off-screen, but Rodney can see himself looking at him, can hear the encouraging, "Go on, buddy."
There's the moment of anger that he vividly remembers when he started shouting that this was useless and why did they want to record him slowly dying. Rodney can't bring himself to stop the tape. He watches himself, redfaced with terrified anger and then he crumbles and there's nothing but a plaintive "John".
He fast-forwards through the part where John takes him into his arms, reluctantly, awkwardly. His chest still tightens at the sight.
It gets better after that and by better he means that he's so far gone that the pain from losing everything that makes him him isn't as acute, because he no longer knows what he's missing. He watches himself, the simple joy of being with his friends, Jennifer, Radek, Teyla and Ronon. But it's nothing compared to the way his face lights up when he's with John.
Something gathers in Rodney's stomach like lead.
He keeps fast-forwarding, only catching glimpses here and there and it's painful to watch, because it isn't him, it can't be him, but yet, it is. That person is inside of him, Rodney stripped of higher brain functions. Rodney when he literally stops thinking so much.
He presses play again. He notes the day. This is when Jeannie came. He watches himself recite what little he can remember and then he stops and shouts for John. Again and again. He hears Jennifer trying to calm him down, but it doesn't stop it goes on and on and Rodney quickly stops the tape, switches it off completely because he can't watch anymore of this.
Clear blue skies
He tries to concentrate, to clear his mind, but then he shudders, because if he clears his mind, if he stops thinking, he's only feeling and what he feels is... God, he knows. He can't watch it and not know, but he shouldn't... He needs to think. His problem isn't that he's thinking too much. He's not thinking enough. Thinking, rational, objective. John.
The memories of the pier are among the sharpest in his mind. The fear that was still fresh in his mind, but also the calm that came from being with John.
He closes his eyes.
No. It's final.
He can see it and hear it and feel it. This is what he should think about. This is the only truth.
He thinks back to Day 6. He can never act on those feelings, on those dreams, because that's all they are, fantasies as far removed from reality as the idea that he could jump off the control tower, spread wings and fly. And he needs to think, to accept reality, because otherwise he might do something that can only end in disaster.
He avoids Jennifer the next couple of days and eventually she stops looking expectantly and starts looking understanding, resigned and sad too, but Rodney knows that it's better this way, has always known this, which was why he's never said anything.
John... He doesn't avoid John. He's tempted to, but there is nothing to avoid. So they have lunch and hang out and when they look at each other and Rodney can see it in John's eyes, he simply thinks one word over and over.
"Final. Final."
Final.