Stargate Atlantis fic: Miles to Go
I'm trying to update my master fic list and have realized that there are some things I never got posted to my journal here. I wrote this years ago (original posting was October 2007!) and never posted it outside of the sga_flashfic community. So here it is.
Title: Miles to Go
Author: Philote
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Stargate: Atlantis do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don’t sue.
Summary: When it came time for the most important decision of their lives, they chose flight. Now they are condemned to it.
oOo
He waits until no one is watching him. He’s already packed his few personal belongings and helped to stow the meager contents that constitute their ‘science department.’ He has also wandered the camp, directing and trying to encourage wherever he could. Now the Colonel and his few men have returned from the scout, and he can afford to take a step back from the limelight.
So Rodney slips away, still subconsciously cataloguing the sounds behind him. Keller is bustling about, helping the injured and the crippled prepare for the relocation. Her bedside manner is still calming and encouraging, even if she hardly smiles anymore.
Everyone is solemn with the exception of a few little ones chasing each other around the camp perimeter. Their squeals and giggles follow him, a persistent reminder that there are children among the group. The kids don’t quite sense the blanket of weariness and tension that has settled over the adults. Most of them think this is a game, this moving day that comes every few months. They get a new planet to explore; the possibility of new people and creatures to meet. For them, home is simply the people they are with.
There’s probably a lesson there. But for those over the age of seven, the longing for a place to call home eats at them. Every compromised site drains a bit of hope, not unlike a long, painfully slow Wraith feeding.
The sounds of semi-civilization fade away as he slips through the trees on the well-worn path. The sound of rushing water replaces them. He makes his way to the top of the falls and seats himself near the edge, taking in a deep breath of the forest and letting the cascading water soothe his nerves.
It still surprises him how much he can enjoy this setting. He’s never really been a nature-lover. In fact, as a general rule, he often feels pretty useless out here. Sure, there’s a small bit of technology they’ve kept with them, and they’re always hoping to chance upon something they can use. But this is basically one long, hellish field mission.
But he was one of the expedition leaders before, back when he had an actual department to be head of. The Colonel is in charge, but Rodney had the experience and the presence among the staff to step up as his second. There is a balance of power there; they’re more partners than hierarchical links in a chain of command. Someone has to keep it together. But moments like this, he has a very hard time being one of those people.
It feels longer, but it is probably only minutes before he senses someone approaching. He may be focused on the waterfall, but he’s long since learned to keep his senses open for possible threats. He doesn’t turn, he simply waits.
“McKay…Rodney.”
He sucks in the thoughts and collects himself before he turns towards the newcomer and returns with at least a little of his trademark sarcasm, “Colonel…Evan.”
Lorne quirks a little smile his way before he steps closer, looking out over the falls. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
There’s a wistfulness in his voice, an openness that Rodney latches onto. These conversations are getting near-traditional and all too regular. Still, he can’t help a bit of relief as he answers honestly, “Yes. I really hoped this would be the place.”
“You know you’re not alone there.”
Evan seats himself at Rodney’s side. They spend long moments in silence and Rodney lets himself appreciate the comfort of it. In front of the group they have to be strong, resolute and in control. But they agreed long ago that the only way to stay sane would be to give up appearances with each other.
Rodney McKay had never been one for holding back what he thought. He didn’t keep vivid descriptions of imminent doom to himself; he shared them with everyone. He remembers that person as if he’s a dream character. Oh, he hasn’t changed completely; their people still see him as a bristly taskmaster who gives praise sparingly and demands perfection. But his criticisms don’t sting so much anymore. He has to lace his sarcasm with positive reinforcement.
He doesn’t talk about doom. Not even jokingly; not with anyone else.
He decides to let Evan break the silence. The Colonel eventually turns to him with an appraising look. “You holding up okay?”
“About like normal. And you? Feeling positive about our new site?”
“Positive is always a stretch. Let’s just say I didn’t see any obvious reason to run screaming in the opposite direction and leave it at that.”
“Is it pretty?” His old snide tone creeps back because he knows the answer. He supplied the coordinates, after all.
“Oh, sure. The prettiest flat, barren plains I’ve ever seen. And with the heat, I can hardly wait to do that 30 mile hike to the nearest water source.”
“Thirty miles,” Rodney groans, exhausted at the mere thought. He lets himself flop back onto the soft grass, staring up at the clear blue sky so characteristic of this planet and feeling wistful for it already. “You will be assigning some men to carry me, of course.”
“Buck up, Doc.” A hand comes out to smack his stomach lightly. “This is how you keep the flab off.”
“Hey!” Rodney squawks indignantly, rocking back to a seated position to protect his middle. “That is all muscle, I’ll have you know.”
Evan grins. It is all too reminiscent of another teasing grin, and try as he might Rodney can’t stop the parade of memories it sets off. He tries not to let the reaction show, but Evan may sense it anyway. He sobers too quickly, steering back to the more serious aspects of the conversation. “It’s gonna be hard on them.”
“They’ve seen worse.”
“I know. It just seems…for every obstacle conquered, another jumps up to take its place, you know?”
“You noticed that too, huh? It’s never-ending.”
There is a long pause. Then, “It has to end sometime.”
He says it so softly that Rodney almost doubts his ears. But they’ve discussed it before, more times than he cares to count. Evan won’t push it now; it isn’t the time. But once they’re reasonably settled in the new location-once they’re semi-comfortable and really don’t want to discuss it-they’ll have to revisit it again.
He looks back at the water and feels a lump in his throat. But it isn’t the place itself; he knows better than to get attached to the scenery. This one is pretty, sure, but when they look back they tend only to measure the settlements based on one criteria. That is the number of graves they leave behind.
He remembers them, every single one they’ve put into the ground in some alien soil. More than that, he remembers the ones who don’t have a measly stone marker to memorialize their sacrifice. Nothing to show they were ever even there-nothing but the memories of these people left behind.
His voice cracks when he tries to speak, and he has to force it louder than a whisper to be heard. “Do you ever think we made the wrong choice?” Back when they’d had a choice in the matter, back when Atlantis had still thrummed with life around them as they argued about the merits of mounting resistance versus the risk of the city falling into enemy hands.
Evan draws in a deep breath that wavers a bit. “It doesn’t matter now.” He lays a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, squeezes briefly. Then he’s on his feet again, guard back up and fearless leader persona firmly in place as he starts back towards camp. “Better get back. We leave in two hours.”
Rodney doesn’t turn to watch him go. Instead he keeps his eyes on the waterfall for a bit longer. There’s no telling when-or if-he’ll have such a tranquil setting again.
He knows they have to move. Survival instinct drives them; deep bonds forged in trial and tragedy keep them together. As for what sustains him as a leader…he really can’t define that. And because he can’t grasp it, he’s a little terrified that someday soon it will just desert him.
But it won’t be today. With a heavy sigh he pushes himself to his feet and turns. He squares his shoulders and starts moving, and tries not to think about the future. Still, the nagging thought will not leave him alone.
He’s not sure how many more flights he has left in him.
oOo
Title: Miles to Go
Author: Philote
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Stargate: Atlantis do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don’t sue.
Summary: When it came time for the most important decision of their lives, they chose flight. Now they are condemned to it.
oOo
He waits until no one is watching him. He’s already packed his few personal belongings and helped to stow the meager contents that constitute their ‘science department.’ He has also wandered the camp, directing and trying to encourage wherever he could. Now the Colonel and his few men have returned from the scout, and he can afford to take a step back from the limelight.
So Rodney slips away, still subconsciously cataloguing the sounds behind him. Keller is bustling about, helping the injured and the crippled prepare for the relocation. Her bedside manner is still calming and encouraging, even if she hardly smiles anymore.
Everyone is solemn with the exception of a few little ones chasing each other around the camp perimeter. Their squeals and giggles follow him, a persistent reminder that there are children among the group. The kids don’t quite sense the blanket of weariness and tension that has settled over the adults. Most of them think this is a game, this moving day that comes every few months. They get a new planet to explore; the possibility of new people and creatures to meet. For them, home is simply the people they are with.
There’s probably a lesson there. But for those over the age of seven, the longing for a place to call home eats at them. Every compromised site drains a bit of hope, not unlike a long, painfully slow Wraith feeding.
The sounds of semi-civilization fade away as he slips through the trees on the well-worn path. The sound of rushing water replaces them. He makes his way to the top of the falls and seats himself near the edge, taking in a deep breath of the forest and letting the cascading water soothe his nerves.
It still surprises him how much he can enjoy this setting. He’s never really been a nature-lover. In fact, as a general rule, he often feels pretty useless out here. Sure, there’s a small bit of technology they’ve kept with them, and they’re always hoping to chance upon something they can use. But this is basically one long, hellish field mission.
But he was one of the expedition leaders before, back when he had an actual department to be head of. The Colonel is in charge, but Rodney had the experience and the presence among the staff to step up as his second. There is a balance of power there; they’re more partners than hierarchical links in a chain of command. Someone has to keep it together. But moments like this, he has a very hard time being one of those people.
It feels longer, but it is probably only minutes before he senses someone approaching. He may be focused on the waterfall, but he’s long since learned to keep his senses open for possible threats. He doesn’t turn, he simply waits.
“McKay…Rodney.”
He sucks in the thoughts and collects himself before he turns towards the newcomer and returns with at least a little of his trademark sarcasm, “Colonel…Evan.”
Lorne quirks a little smile his way before he steps closer, looking out over the falls. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
There’s a wistfulness in his voice, an openness that Rodney latches onto. These conversations are getting near-traditional and all too regular. Still, he can’t help a bit of relief as he answers honestly, “Yes. I really hoped this would be the place.”
“You know you’re not alone there.”
Evan seats himself at Rodney’s side. They spend long moments in silence and Rodney lets himself appreciate the comfort of it. In front of the group they have to be strong, resolute and in control. But they agreed long ago that the only way to stay sane would be to give up appearances with each other.
Rodney McKay had never been one for holding back what he thought. He didn’t keep vivid descriptions of imminent doom to himself; he shared them with everyone. He remembers that person as if he’s a dream character. Oh, he hasn’t changed completely; their people still see him as a bristly taskmaster who gives praise sparingly and demands perfection. But his criticisms don’t sting so much anymore. He has to lace his sarcasm with positive reinforcement.
He doesn’t talk about doom. Not even jokingly; not with anyone else.
He decides to let Evan break the silence. The Colonel eventually turns to him with an appraising look. “You holding up okay?”
“About like normal. And you? Feeling positive about our new site?”
“Positive is always a stretch. Let’s just say I didn’t see any obvious reason to run screaming in the opposite direction and leave it at that.”
“Is it pretty?” His old snide tone creeps back because he knows the answer. He supplied the coordinates, after all.
“Oh, sure. The prettiest flat, barren plains I’ve ever seen. And with the heat, I can hardly wait to do that 30 mile hike to the nearest water source.”
“Thirty miles,” Rodney groans, exhausted at the mere thought. He lets himself flop back onto the soft grass, staring up at the clear blue sky so characteristic of this planet and feeling wistful for it already. “You will be assigning some men to carry me, of course.”
“Buck up, Doc.” A hand comes out to smack his stomach lightly. “This is how you keep the flab off.”
“Hey!” Rodney squawks indignantly, rocking back to a seated position to protect his middle. “That is all muscle, I’ll have you know.”
Evan grins. It is all too reminiscent of another teasing grin, and try as he might Rodney can’t stop the parade of memories it sets off. He tries not to let the reaction show, but Evan may sense it anyway. He sobers too quickly, steering back to the more serious aspects of the conversation. “It’s gonna be hard on them.”
“They’ve seen worse.”
“I know. It just seems…for every obstacle conquered, another jumps up to take its place, you know?”
“You noticed that too, huh? It’s never-ending.”
There is a long pause. Then, “It has to end sometime.”
He says it so softly that Rodney almost doubts his ears. But they’ve discussed it before, more times than he cares to count. Evan won’t push it now; it isn’t the time. But once they’re reasonably settled in the new location-once they’re semi-comfortable and really don’t want to discuss it-they’ll have to revisit it again.
He looks back at the water and feels a lump in his throat. But it isn’t the place itself; he knows better than to get attached to the scenery. This one is pretty, sure, but when they look back they tend only to measure the settlements based on one criteria. That is the number of graves they leave behind.
He remembers them, every single one they’ve put into the ground in some alien soil. More than that, he remembers the ones who don’t have a measly stone marker to memorialize their sacrifice. Nothing to show they were ever even there-nothing but the memories of these people left behind.
His voice cracks when he tries to speak, and he has to force it louder than a whisper to be heard. “Do you ever think we made the wrong choice?” Back when they’d had a choice in the matter, back when Atlantis had still thrummed with life around them as they argued about the merits of mounting resistance versus the risk of the city falling into enemy hands.
Evan draws in a deep breath that wavers a bit. “It doesn’t matter now.” He lays a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, squeezes briefly. Then he’s on his feet again, guard back up and fearless leader persona firmly in place as he starts back towards camp. “Better get back. We leave in two hours.”
Rodney doesn’t turn to watch him go. Instead he keeps his eyes on the waterfall for a bit longer. There’s no telling when-or if-he’ll have such a tranquil setting again.
He knows they have to move. Survival instinct drives them; deep bonds forged in trial and tragedy keep them together. As for what sustains him as a leader…he really can’t define that. And because he can’t grasp it, he’s a little terrified that someday soon it will just desert him.
But it won’t be today. With a heavy sigh he pushes himself to his feet and turns. He squares his shoulders and starts moving, and tries not to think about the future. Still, the nagging thought will not leave him alone.
He’s not sure how many more flights he has left in him.
oOo