Broken, Part II
got bit by the bug, and didn't want to do work after wrapping up that chapter yesterday. as most authors say, 'this story wrote itself'. the River voice hasn't quite come back to me yet, so naturally it's not near to finished...
Title: Broken (2/?)
Pairings: Rodney/River, Radek/Rodney (no slash, no underage nasty, all plutonic)
Rating: PG (there's a lot of anger)
Plot: River says she's the one who's broken, but is she the only one?
Part I
Rodney thumped the box on the lab table.
“What is this?” Radek, curiosity personified, peeped around from behind Rodney’s elbow.
“ZedPM,” Rodney said, opening the box and lifting something out from it. Radek recoiled his neck like a turtle, and raised his eyebrows.
He snorted and said “and you’ve been keeping this under your bed?”
Rodney cocked his head and gave him the ‘oh please’ look. “It’s the one we got from the Genii,” he paused for effect, “the one that is totally *useless* to us.”
“Then why did we keep it?” Radek asked.
“I don’t know!” Rodney said, loudly and exasperated. “Maybe we’re going to use it to hold up a collapsed pillar in the south end.”
“Really?”
“No, Radek,” the condescension dripped from his voice. “Go away. Stop asking questions. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Well, yes. But you are not the only person here. We are a *team*, Rodney. And members of a team,” he gestured between himself and Dr. Mckay, “*share* their research, their information with each other!” Zelenka’s gesturing hand waved about in the air with indignation.
“Are you and Elizabeth in league against me?!”
“What?”
“All this,” he mimed with his hand, and his voice jumped half an octave, “’play nice, Rodney’, ‘be a team player, Rodney’,”
“Stop being a jerk, Rodney?” Zelenka ventured.
“I am not a jerk!”
“Hm,” Zelenka said, and walked away from Rodney towards his own station.
“I am not a jerk!” he repeated, turning towards Zelenka.
“Yes, you are. Sometimes you are a very big jerk. You cannot do everything yourself, and you will not accept help from those who offer it.”
“I work better on my own! If I need help, I’ll ask for it!”
“No, you will not. Your ego will not let you.”
“What makes you think you know what the *hell* is going on with me?!” Rodney yelled.
Zelenka stepped towards him, never raising his own voice. “I have worked side by side with you in this laboratory since we arrived in this city. I think I can say I know you, even though you do not treat me as a colleague, as an equal. And I *know* that you fight with your own self about what happened. It should be a lesson to you, but you do not seem to have changed very much!” His eyes flashed, and the anger which he often harbored when dealing with McKay took a small gasp of air.
McKay did not speak, but simply left the room.
Zelenka placed both his palms on the cool metal table for a moment, before using his right hand to remove his wire-frame glasses. He exhaled heavily. He should not have yelled. He should not have provoked a fight. He sighed again, and brushed his hair off his forehead, and stood up straighter, trying to refocus himself.
“He hurts very much,” a female voice whispered.
“Yes, he does,” Radek said. He thought he saw her there, but he could never be sure. She appeared and disappeared like a Polednice or a Vila; gone with a second glance.
River lay her cheek against the doorjamb, and stared at Radek, her wispy clothes fluttering with the natural air currents. “He is not mad at you. He will come around,”
Radek nodded. “I know. It just takes,”
“time,” they said simultaneously.
“Yes, time,” Radek repeated to himself, and, clearing his throat, nodded at the girl with a forced smile and left the laboratory.
* * *
“Whatcha doin’ under there?” the peppy voice of the young mechanic came from the other side of the dais.
“Why do you ask so many questions?!” Rodney yelled. He had come here to be alone. To feel like he was doing something, anything, but all by himself. No company, no little band of inquisitors, nothing but silence. He wheeled out from underneath the console, and threw down the screen as he rose, wincing even as he did so, and it clattered to the floor.
“Well I ain’t meanin’ to be a bother, mister. I’s just curious,” Kaylee’s voice trailed off.
“I’ve had enough of all this curiosity! Leave me alone!” He exploded at her, and she flinched, stepping back.
“I’m sorry, I,” she began, but he was already making towards the exit.
All would have been well, except for one more hurt feeling, except Malcolm Reynolds, the closest thing there was to Kaylee’s keeper, had heard the entire episode from right outside the door. McKay did not even see the shadow until it cut him off.
“I suggest you apologize to Miss Kaylee,” he said, and his voice carried no tone of mere suggestion.
McKay, while still in a particularly volatile mood, did have enough sense to see that the man who blocked his path was bigger, taller, and likely stronger than he. And still carried a firearm, he noted, subtly concealed beneath his long brown coat. He turned to face the girl, who still stood in the centre of the room.
“I apologize, Miss...”
“Kaylee,” Malcolm supplied.
“Kaylee.” He turned back to Reynolds. “Now, if you excuse me,” he said, trying his best to be courageous, and helped generously by his bad mood.
“I got one thing to say to you, Mister. I don’t know why you been treatin’ my folk so ill, but I see you talk to any of ‘em like that again, we will have words.” Reynolds’ no-nonsense blue-eyed gaze looked to McKay for comprehension. “’M I makin’ myself heard?”
“Sure thing, cowboy,” McKay said, with more than a little sarcasm, as he saw his way clear and strode briskly down the hallway.
Malcolm looked back to Kaylee. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking down the hallway after him. “I didn’t mean to upset him,” she said, looking up at Malcolm.
Malcolm put his arms around her. “I know, little Kaylee. I know.” They were silent for a moment, Malcolm thinking that the fear in McKay’s eyes was not entirely of him personally, and Kaylee that her impression of him so far did not lend itself to her belief that all people were good, somehow, because he’d been nothing but angry at them all since they got there.
“He’s not angry at you either. He’s angry at himself. He’s waiting for the moment when we know, and we can blame him, and until then, he will blame himself. And after then, too. Problems never go away, and when you want to forget about them, they land themselves on your front doorstop and follow you everywhere, like a dog. He hates kicking puppies, but doesn’t know how else to make them go away,” she paused. “He’s a cat person, anyway.”
Malcolm just smiled. “River, I imagine your brother is looking for you.”
“He always is,” she said, and smiled.
comments, criticisms welcome
Title: Broken (2/?)
Pairings: Rodney/River, Radek/Rodney (no slash, no underage nasty, all plutonic)
Rating: PG (there's a lot of anger)
Plot: River says she's the one who's broken, but is she the only one?
Part I
Rodney thumped the box on the lab table.
“What is this?” Radek, curiosity personified, peeped around from behind Rodney’s elbow.
“ZedPM,” Rodney said, opening the box and lifting something out from it. Radek recoiled his neck like a turtle, and raised his eyebrows.
He snorted and said “and you’ve been keeping this under your bed?”
Rodney cocked his head and gave him the ‘oh please’ look. “It’s the one we got from the Genii,” he paused for effect, “the one that is totally *useless* to us.”
“Then why did we keep it?” Radek asked.
“I don’t know!” Rodney said, loudly and exasperated. “Maybe we’re going to use it to hold up a collapsed pillar in the south end.”
“Really?”
“No, Radek,” the condescension dripped from his voice. “Go away. Stop asking questions. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Well, yes. But you are not the only person here. We are a *team*, Rodney. And members of a team,” he gestured between himself and Dr. Mckay, “*share* their research, their information with each other!” Zelenka’s gesturing hand waved about in the air with indignation.
“Are you and Elizabeth in league against me?!”
“What?”
“All this,” he mimed with his hand, and his voice jumped half an octave, “’play nice, Rodney’, ‘be a team player, Rodney’,”
“Stop being a jerk, Rodney?” Zelenka ventured.
“I am not a jerk!”
“Hm,” Zelenka said, and walked away from Rodney towards his own station.
“I am not a jerk!” he repeated, turning towards Zelenka.
“Yes, you are. Sometimes you are a very big jerk. You cannot do everything yourself, and you will not accept help from those who offer it.”
“I work better on my own! If I need help, I’ll ask for it!”
“No, you will not. Your ego will not let you.”
“What makes you think you know what the *hell* is going on with me?!” Rodney yelled.
Zelenka stepped towards him, never raising his own voice. “I have worked side by side with you in this laboratory since we arrived in this city. I think I can say I know you, even though you do not treat me as a colleague, as an equal. And I *know* that you fight with your own self about what happened. It should be a lesson to you, but you do not seem to have changed very much!” His eyes flashed, and the anger which he often harbored when dealing with McKay took a small gasp of air.
McKay did not speak, but simply left the room.
Zelenka placed both his palms on the cool metal table for a moment, before using his right hand to remove his wire-frame glasses. He exhaled heavily. He should not have yelled. He should not have provoked a fight. He sighed again, and brushed his hair off his forehead, and stood up straighter, trying to refocus himself.
“He hurts very much,” a female voice whispered.
“Yes, he does,” Radek said. He thought he saw her there, but he could never be sure. She appeared and disappeared like a Polednice or a Vila; gone with a second glance.
River lay her cheek against the doorjamb, and stared at Radek, her wispy clothes fluttering with the natural air currents. “He is not mad at you. He will come around,”
Radek nodded. “I know. It just takes,”
“time,” they said simultaneously.
“Yes, time,” Radek repeated to himself, and, clearing his throat, nodded at the girl with a forced smile and left the laboratory.
* * *
“Whatcha doin’ under there?” the peppy voice of the young mechanic came from the other side of the dais.
“Why do you ask so many questions?!” Rodney yelled. He had come here to be alone. To feel like he was doing something, anything, but all by himself. No company, no little band of inquisitors, nothing but silence. He wheeled out from underneath the console, and threw down the screen as he rose, wincing even as he did so, and it clattered to the floor.
“Well I ain’t meanin’ to be a bother, mister. I’s just curious,” Kaylee’s voice trailed off.
“I’ve had enough of all this curiosity! Leave me alone!” He exploded at her, and she flinched, stepping back.
“I’m sorry, I,” she began, but he was already making towards the exit.
All would have been well, except for one more hurt feeling, except Malcolm Reynolds, the closest thing there was to Kaylee’s keeper, had heard the entire episode from right outside the door. McKay did not even see the shadow until it cut him off.
“I suggest you apologize to Miss Kaylee,” he said, and his voice carried no tone of mere suggestion.
McKay, while still in a particularly volatile mood, did have enough sense to see that the man who blocked his path was bigger, taller, and likely stronger than he. And still carried a firearm, he noted, subtly concealed beneath his long brown coat. He turned to face the girl, who still stood in the centre of the room.
“I apologize, Miss...”
“Kaylee,” Malcolm supplied.
“Kaylee.” He turned back to Reynolds. “Now, if you excuse me,” he said, trying his best to be courageous, and helped generously by his bad mood.
“I got one thing to say to you, Mister. I don’t know why you been treatin’ my folk so ill, but I see you talk to any of ‘em like that again, we will have words.” Reynolds’ no-nonsense blue-eyed gaze looked to McKay for comprehension. “’M I makin’ myself heard?”
“Sure thing, cowboy,” McKay said, with more than a little sarcasm, as he saw his way clear and strode briskly down the hallway.
Malcolm looked back to Kaylee. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking down the hallway after him. “I didn’t mean to upset him,” she said, looking up at Malcolm.
Malcolm put his arms around her. “I know, little Kaylee. I know.” They were silent for a moment, Malcolm thinking that the fear in McKay’s eyes was not entirely of him personally, and Kaylee that her impression of him so far did not lend itself to her belief that all people were good, somehow, because he’d been nothing but angry at them all since they got there.
“He’s not angry at you either. He’s angry at himself. He’s waiting for the moment when we know, and we can blame him, and until then, he will blame himself. And after then, too. Problems never go away, and when you want to forget about them, they land themselves on your front doorstop and follow you everywhere, like a dog. He hates kicking puppies, but doesn’t know how else to make them go away,” she paused. “He’s a cat person, anyway.”
Malcolm just smiled. “River, I imagine your brother is looking for you.”
“He always is,” she said, and smiled.
comments, criticisms welcome