Um, ow?
*thud*... Ouch.
It's International "How the heck did I get that bruise??" Day! And we posted two ficlets! My, we're productive.
Radek didn't mind the bruise.
He'd woken up to Rodney's retreating back, baffled faces, and a blessedly fuzzy memory of recent events. As well as, apparently, something that felt like a bruise, deep under the skin on his chest. He couldn't see it, but it started to protest shortly after he sat up the first time. Not being a fool, he mentioned it to Carson, who snapped out of his amazement long enough to run a few tests. The results showed as little as his skin - all functional, all healthy. They cleared him, finally, and if he remained as baffled as the doctor, well, neither of them were in any position to complain. Carson offered him a Tylenol and rambled something about the likelihood that his incredibly confused biological systems had responded to what had been major trauma by ramping up blood flow to the area, resulting in swelling not unlike a hematoma. Radek was fine with calling it a bruise.
He left the infirmary with Elizabeth, hurrying back to the Ancient machine, listening to her explanations in disbelief. When she finally ran out of words, when he really understood that they were saying he'd been right, all along, about unknown, dire side-effects, the bruise had ached fiercely,and he'd rubbed at it. Elizabeth had raised an eyebrow, worried, asking him if he didn't need to return to Carson's tender mercies, but he'd brushed the questions aside and started taking things apart. She'd watched a few moments, scrutinizing, but said nothing and in the end, left quietly. At least, he hadn't heard her go. The Tylenol had seemed to be working - the bruise only twinged a bit when he moved in some particularly awkward way.
Then Rodney had come by, and Radek could say nothing as Rodney talked on and something seized his chest in steel bands, making breath and speech impossible until, once again, Rodney's back had disappeared through the doorway and the pain gently faded. Radek had blamed it on the bruise, cursed, popped another pill, and gone back to work.
When Colonel Sheppard's all-call had come over their headsets, the bruise had flared again. Radek had bowed his head and closed his eyes, pushing at the invisible spot as if he could shove the pain away. He'd spent a long minute bent over the unfamiliar console, and then risen stiffly, unable to shake it off, and slowly continued his repairs. Looked at his shaking fingers, he'd remembered his grandfather, ancient and arthritic, and wondered what it would take to make the ache recede. He'd found out when Carson's frantic voice hailed him through the radio, the urgency contagious, adrenalin-like, muting the pain and speeding his hands. When Rodney had gotten to his feet and demanded a meal, the energy had fled. Radek's chest still ached, but he was smiling too hard to mind.
The bruise, or whatever it was, had mostly healed over the course of the next several days, although it still gave off an occasional complaint that had him stopping to rub at it in irritation. When Rodney had returned to the lab this morning and berated them all for the chaos they had apparently created in his absence, it had flared and subsided. Now, standing over a workbench, listening to Rodney harangue Simpson over her ability to add two and two and arrive, repeatedly, at not-quite five, Radek felt it twinge and rubbed at it idly, smiling.
No. Radek didn't mind the bruise at all.
Scroll down for the second fic...
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posted above. :)
~~And now, a second story for this challenge, from the other half of omgmetoo.~~
The memory of Jeanie's time on Atlantis snuck up on Rodney at unexpected moments. Sitting in the mess, listening to Zelenka talk about his sister’s horrible children, he would think first of Madison clinging to his legs in the front hall of Jeannie’s house and smile. But then he’d see Jeanie, her face as open and fearless as it had been on the day she told him she was quitting school, and he’d hear her, as truthful as she never learned not to be --
You don't like me talking to Rod because it makes you realize how bad a brother you've really been.
And every time - every time - it felt like a punch in the chest.
A few months after Jeanie left Atlantis, Rodney sat alone in the darkened labs at god-knows-when in the morning. He scrubbed at his face with weary hands, waiting on one last set of simulations to finish, when suddenly --
She has every reason to hate me.
I didn't say she *hates* you.
Well, she should.
Rodney found himself absently rubbing his sternum, staring unseeing at his laptop.
While they were all back on Earth, Jeanie had invited Rodney to come to their place for Christmas. He'd quietly asked around about what a four-year-old might like, intending to have plenty of presents when he showed up on the doorstep this time. Jeanie had steadfastly refused to provide a wish list, even after Rodney begged her. It would mean more, she insisted, if he picked the presents out himself. Like he knew what to buy a four year old girl. Teyla had kindly offered to help him choose toys from the markets on some of the friendlier planets they visited, but Rodney was pretty sure the SGC wouldn't appreciate him giving highly classified alien artifacts to his niece.
That's how, two months and one horrifying and very expensive trip to Target later, Rodney is standing on Jeanie's porch, shivering in the Canadian cold. He tells himself it's because the weather is never all that cold back at home. If he's honest with himself, though, he always hated winters in Canada, and stints in Siberia and Antarctica hadn't helped matters. When he hears Madison's pelting footsteps and shrieks of "Uncle Meredith! Uncle Meredith!", Rodney shouts back, "It's Uncle Rodney!"
Madison throws the door open and grins up at him. "HI, UNCLE MEREDITH!" she shouts, hopping up and down and looking so much like Jeanie at her age that he can hardly breathe. He pats her head in what he hopes is a kindly-uncle fashion and thrusts a present into her bouncing hands. She looks up at him in adoration, turns, and runs shrieking past Jeanie.
"Oh my God, you are going to completely spoil her," Jeanie rolls her eyes like a true McKay as she pads down the hall from the kitchen, wiping what was no doubt some unnatural tofu creation from her hands. Rodney considers cracking a "barefoot in the kitchen" joke, but Jeanie cuts him off with a quiet "Hey, Mer," and a hug, still warm from the heat of the stove. As he hooks his chin over her shoulder, he thinks, I could have had this for the past four years.
He's really going to have to talk to Carson about this chest pain when he gets back.
The pain dials down to a low ache, like fingers pressing into a bruise, and stays for days - through Chutes and Ladders with Madison, fights over physics (and everything else) with Jeanie, and Playstation hockey with Kaleb. Finally, as Rodney helps load the dishwasher after Christmas dinner, Jeanie glances at him as she dries a platter.
"I missed you, Mer."
Rodney freezes. "Really?"
"Of course, you idiot. You're my brother. Just because you were a jerk doesn't mean I don't want you around. Anyway, you were always a jerk." She half-smiles at him like she used to do when she fell off her bike and was trying not to cry.
Before he can stop himself, he blurts out: "I'm sorry. I was a terrible brother to you, and you have every right to hate me. I just...I didn't realize. I didn't realize what I was missing." Rodney stares at the plate covered in tofurkey leftovers in his hands for a few seconds, and sets it on the counter. "I'm just gonna," he jerks his thumb over his shoulder, "you know."
"Mer. Mer!" Jeanie grabs him by the arm as he turns to leave. "Stop! Just stop." She steps in front of him, blocking his escape route. "Listen to me. Were you a jerk? Yeah. You were. But you're my brother. You'll always be my brother, and I will always - always - want to have you around. You." She pokes him in the chest to emphasize her point. "Not some weird other-you. The past four years were crap, so let's just forget about them. Hard reset, starting today."
Rodney gapes at her. "Really?"
"Really."
"Um, okay." Rodney rubs his chest where she poked him. She always did have pointy little fingers, he thinks.
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay." He gives her a tiny smile and turns back to load a glass into the dishwasher.
That night, as he lies on the foldout couch in the playroom, staring up at the astronomically correct glow-in-the-dark constellations he'd put up that morning, Rodney thinks of Madison giggling over a particularly cutthroat game of Candyland, and smiles.
His chest doesn't hurt at all.
It's International "How the heck did I get that bruise??" Day! And we posted two ficlets! My, we're productive.
Radek didn't mind the bruise.
He'd woken up to Rodney's retreating back, baffled faces, and a blessedly fuzzy memory of recent events. As well as, apparently, something that felt like a bruise, deep under the skin on his chest. He couldn't see it, but it started to protest shortly after he sat up the first time. Not being a fool, he mentioned it to Carson, who snapped out of his amazement long enough to run a few tests. The results showed as little as his skin - all functional, all healthy. They cleared him, finally, and if he remained as baffled as the doctor, well, neither of them were in any position to complain. Carson offered him a Tylenol and rambled something about the likelihood that his incredibly confused biological systems had responded to what had been major trauma by ramping up blood flow to the area, resulting in swelling not unlike a hematoma. Radek was fine with calling it a bruise.
He left the infirmary with Elizabeth, hurrying back to the Ancient machine, listening to her explanations in disbelief. When she finally ran out of words, when he really understood that they were saying he'd been right, all along, about unknown, dire side-effects, the bruise had ached fiercely,and he'd rubbed at it. Elizabeth had raised an eyebrow, worried, asking him if he didn't need to return to Carson's tender mercies, but he'd brushed the questions aside and started taking things apart. She'd watched a few moments, scrutinizing, but said nothing and in the end, left quietly. At least, he hadn't heard her go. The Tylenol had seemed to be working - the bruise only twinged a bit when he moved in some particularly awkward way.
Then Rodney had come by, and Radek could say nothing as Rodney talked on and something seized his chest in steel bands, making breath and speech impossible until, once again, Rodney's back had disappeared through the doorway and the pain gently faded. Radek had blamed it on the bruise, cursed, popped another pill, and gone back to work.
When Colonel Sheppard's all-call had come over their headsets, the bruise had flared again. Radek had bowed his head and closed his eyes, pushing at the invisible spot as if he could shove the pain away. He'd spent a long minute bent over the unfamiliar console, and then risen stiffly, unable to shake it off, and slowly continued his repairs. Looked at his shaking fingers, he'd remembered his grandfather, ancient and arthritic, and wondered what it would take to make the ache recede. He'd found out when Carson's frantic voice hailed him through the radio, the urgency contagious, adrenalin-like, muting the pain and speeding his hands. When Rodney had gotten to his feet and demanded a meal, the energy had fled. Radek's chest still ached, but he was smiling too hard to mind.
The bruise, or whatever it was, had mostly healed over the course of the next several days, although it still gave off an occasional complaint that had him stopping to rub at it in irritation. When Rodney had returned to the lab this morning and berated them all for the chaos they had apparently created in his absence, it had flared and subsided. Now, standing over a workbench, listening to Rodney harangue Simpson over her ability to add two and two and arrive, repeatedly, at not-quite five, Radek felt it twinge and rubbed at it idly, smiling.
No. Radek didn't mind the bruise at all.
Scroll down for the second fic...
l
o
t
s
of
s
p
a
c
e
due to
s
p
o
i
l
e
r
s
in the
f
i
r
s
t
s
t
o
r
y
posted above. :)
~~And now, a second story for this challenge, from the other half of omgmetoo.~~
The memory of Jeanie's time on Atlantis snuck up on Rodney at unexpected moments. Sitting in the mess, listening to Zelenka talk about his sister’s horrible children, he would think first of Madison clinging to his legs in the front hall of Jeannie’s house and smile. But then he’d see Jeanie, her face as open and fearless as it had been on the day she told him she was quitting school, and he’d hear her, as truthful as she never learned not to be --
You don't like me talking to Rod because it makes you realize how bad a brother you've really been.
And every time - every time - it felt like a punch in the chest.
A few months after Jeanie left Atlantis, Rodney sat alone in the darkened labs at god-knows-when in the morning. He scrubbed at his face with weary hands, waiting on one last set of simulations to finish, when suddenly --
She has every reason to hate me.
I didn't say she *hates* you.
Well, she should.
Rodney found himself absently rubbing his sternum, staring unseeing at his laptop.
While they were all back on Earth, Jeanie had invited Rodney to come to their place for Christmas. He'd quietly asked around about what a four-year-old might like, intending to have plenty of presents when he showed up on the doorstep this time. Jeanie had steadfastly refused to provide a wish list, even after Rodney begged her. It would mean more, she insisted, if he picked the presents out himself. Like he knew what to buy a four year old girl. Teyla had kindly offered to help him choose toys from the markets on some of the friendlier planets they visited, but Rodney was pretty sure the SGC wouldn't appreciate him giving highly classified alien artifacts to his niece.
That's how, two months and one horrifying and very expensive trip to Target later, Rodney is standing on Jeanie's porch, shivering in the Canadian cold. He tells himself it's because the weather is never all that cold back at home. If he's honest with himself, though, he always hated winters in Canada, and stints in Siberia and Antarctica hadn't helped matters. When he hears Madison's pelting footsteps and shrieks of "Uncle Meredith! Uncle Meredith!", Rodney shouts back, "It's Uncle Rodney!"
Madison throws the door open and grins up at him. "HI, UNCLE MEREDITH!" she shouts, hopping up and down and looking so much like Jeanie at her age that he can hardly breathe. He pats her head in what he hopes is a kindly-uncle fashion and thrusts a present into her bouncing hands. She looks up at him in adoration, turns, and runs shrieking past Jeanie.
"Oh my God, you are going to completely spoil her," Jeanie rolls her eyes like a true McKay as she pads down the hall from the kitchen, wiping what was no doubt some unnatural tofu creation from her hands. Rodney considers cracking a "barefoot in the kitchen" joke, but Jeanie cuts him off with a quiet "Hey, Mer," and a hug, still warm from the heat of the stove. As he hooks his chin over her shoulder, he thinks, I could have had this for the past four years.
He's really going to have to talk to Carson about this chest pain when he gets back.
The pain dials down to a low ache, like fingers pressing into a bruise, and stays for days - through Chutes and Ladders with Madison, fights over physics (and everything else) with Jeanie, and Playstation hockey with Kaleb. Finally, as Rodney helps load the dishwasher after Christmas dinner, Jeanie glances at him as she dries a platter.
"I missed you, Mer."
Rodney freezes. "Really?"
"Of course, you idiot. You're my brother. Just because you were a jerk doesn't mean I don't want you around. Anyway, you were always a jerk." She half-smiles at him like she used to do when she fell off her bike and was trying not to cry.
Before he can stop himself, he blurts out: "I'm sorry. I was a terrible brother to you, and you have every right to hate me. I just...I didn't realize. I didn't realize what I was missing." Rodney stares at the plate covered in tofurkey leftovers in his hands for a few seconds, and sets it on the counter. "I'm just gonna," he jerks his thumb over his shoulder, "you know."
"Mer. Mer!" Jeanie grabs him by the arm as he turns to leave. "Stop! Just stop." She steps in front of him, blocking his escape route. "Listen to me. Were you a jerk? Yeah. You were. But you're my brother. You'll always be my brother, and I will always - always - want to have you around. You." She pokes him in the chest to emphasize her point. "Not some weird other-you. The past four years were crap, so let's just forget about them. Hard reset, starting today."
Rodney gapes at her. "Really?"
"Really."
"Um, okay." Rodney rubs his chest where she poked him. She always did have pointy little fingers, he thinks.
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay." He gives her a tiny smile and turns back to load a glass into the dishwasher.
That night, as he lies on the foldout couch in the playroom, staring up at the astronomically correct glow-in-the-dark constellations he'd put up that morning, Rodney thinks of Madison giggling over a particularly cutthroat game of Candyland, and smiles.
His chest doesn't hurt at all.