38 Minutes entry by Kiara Sayre
Title: Ankhs
Author: Kiara Sayre
Length: 1,255 words
Challenge: 38 Minutes
Category: Gen
Rating: PG, on the safe side
Summary: What do a Lieutenant in the Marines and an astrophysicist have in common? They both remember.
Notes: I kind of ran out of time--so if things seem a bit stilted or rushed, it's because, well, it kind of...was. ^_^;; Also--it spoils Hot Zone fairly severely, as it takes place two days after it.
There are three ankh pendants in Aiden Ford’s room. They’re hanging from a string, which he pulled taut between two thumbtacks he brought for that sole purpose, glittering in the moonlight as he stares at them. Each one has a name attached-engraved in the back, plain up-and-down letters spelling out the names or, in the case of one, a designation.
He rolls over in bed so he can’t stare at them, and tries to go back to sleep, but memories, scents, sensations keep replaying in his mind and he gives up. It’s the Atlantean equivalent of three in the morning, but he rolls out of bed anyway and gets dressed-his day off, so he pulls on a sweatshirt and some jeans. He’ll go to the commissary, maybe, and get coffee-or rather, the Atlantean version of coffee that the Athosians harvest on the mainland and the chemists swear is caffeinated. Ford trusts the chemists-the scientists know their stimulants, and besides, he’s seen Rodney drink it before. Maybe it tastes like muck-he’s never tried it-but Ford knows that Rodney rarely sleeps, and if it helps, it’s worth it.
The commissary is all but abandoned this early. There’s only Kavanaugh, who apparently also thought of a coffee break. Usually they would ignore each other-they had a mutual agreement of hostility, due to Ford’s unwavering loyalty in Doctor Weir and Kavanaugh’s unwavering hate of her-but today is different. Instead they nod respectfully at each other and part ways. Ford goes straight for the ha-jhe--the Athosian coffee-substitute. It, quite luckily, doesn’t taste like sludge, and reminds him faintly of high-quality hazelnut chocolates.
He takes his coffee back to his quarters, and tidies the place up a bit-mostly putting clothes in the wicker-like basket the Athosians provided and shoving said basket under his bed. He isn’t planning on spending his entire day off in his quarters-he’ll go have breakfast with his team, he supposes, but today isn’t the kind of day one spends having a good time-that seems wrong, somehow. If he were back on Earth, he’d spend it with his team-his former team, he keeps forgetting that-getting drunk and trading stories, but while he supposes there are a few stories that could be traded today that would be appropriate, it wouldn’t feel right, not to mention he’s always on-call as Atlantis’s military second-in-command, so he couldn’t get drunk anyway. Which is somewhat disappointing.
At six (Atlantean time-the days are three hours longer than Earth’s days), someone knocks on his door. Sheppard, probably, he realizes. He pulls on a hat and leaves the room for breakfast with the team. Which usually wouldn’t be so bad, but today seems rather tedious.
Rodney is quieter than usual, Sheppard tries small talk a few times, and Teyla is seeming oddly cold towards her commanding officer. Ford doesn’t mind, since he really isn’t in the mood for conversation. He imagines the others are chalking it up to the same events they’re probably chalking everything else up to-two days ago, the scientists, the nanovirus. He lets them believe that.
Rodney, Zelenka, Carson, and the other scientists haven’t mentioned his outburst-or if they have, it hasn’t gotten back to him yet. He’s glad, actually-it’s just one more thing he doesn’t really feel like explaining.
“Rodney, for God’s sake, are you ever going to talk about it?” Sheppard asks finally, letting his fork drop.
Rodney looks up at him, then back down. “What’s to talk about? I’ve lost seven members of my team in the past two weeks, two having had the life sucked out of them by aliens and the other five dying bleeding and screaming in the most horrific scene I have ever seen in my life. What’s to talk about?” His voice is slightly raised now, and Ford numbly notes that it’s a good thing nobody else is in the mess hall.
“Rodney, you can’t just keep burying it,” Sheppard insists, keeping his voice low. “It only hurts more when it comes out, let me tell you.”
“I’m dealing with it, Major,” Rodney says, his voice clipped as he rises. “Okay? Dealt with. Done. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a memorial service to plan.”
He leaves, fleeing-Ford can relate. Sheppard rises to follow, but Teyla puts out a hand to stop him and says something quietly. Ford’s stopped listening. He pushes himself away from the table and mumbles something incoherent about plans and flees as well.
He stays in his quarters for a while, polishing the ankhs regularly, before he remembers a small pouch Doctor Jackson gravely gave him before he left. He goes to his duffel bag and pulls out the small plastic bag, looking at the contents seriously, before going to find McKay.
He’s in the first place Ford looks-his lab, of course.
“Rodney?” Ford calls as the door opens for him.
“Go away, Ford,” Rodney calls back. He’s working on something that’s creating considerable sparks, and looks rather dangerous.
“Actually-can I come in?” Ford stands there awkwardly for a moment, before Rodney sighs and puts something on the table that stops the sparking.
“May as well get it over with,” he says in his unique McKay way. Ford enters and rubs his thumb along the grooves of the plastic bag’s contents for a moment, before he speaks.
“At the SGC, there’s kind of a-a tradition, of sorts,” he says, opening the bag. He lets the contents fall into his palm-five silver ankh pendants. “It started after Doctor Jackson-he was on this planet, on an archeological survey with SG-5. Anyway, something happened, and, well, he survived, and SG-5 didn’t. They had a memorial service, and when Doctor Jay came, he brought a whole bunch of these. He said that they’re the Egyptian symbol for eternal life, and in the memorial service, said some pretty nice things about remembrance, and how nobody’s gone unless their forgotten-the point is, he gave these out, except they had ‘SG-5’ engraved on the back, and said that we would always have these to remember SG-5, and as long as we remembered them, they’d never really die. That’s how it got started, but it kind of…morphed, so that every time somebody lost someone they knew, they’d get one, with the name of whoever they’d lost engraved on the back, so that nobody in the SGC would ever be dead. So I thought-I mean, we don’t have an engraver or anything, but I figure you’ll remember who they’re for, right?” He picks out an ankh with a carefully trained eye, and hands it to Rodney. “Those seven scientists-I didn’t know any of them really well, but I figure you can remember them for all of us, right?”
He drops the other four ankhs into the bag again, and the bag into his pocket, carefully avoiding Rodney’s eyes. “I just-figured you’d want that,” he concluds awkwardly. “I’ll…leave you to your sparking.” He turns and walks towards the door, but Rodney’s half-broken voice stops him.
“How many do you have?” he asks. Ford turns around, and sees that Rodney is still looking sadly at the ankh. Ford has a sudden flash of memory-a sound, a smell, a laugh.
“Three,” Ford answers. Rodney nods, still looking at the ankh.
“Ford?” The scientist pauses for a moment, tears shining in his eyes. “…thanks.”
Ford smiles and nods sadly, then leaves Rodney to grieve.
Author: Kiara Sayre
Length: 1,255 words
Challenge: 38 Minutes
Category: Gen
Rating: PG, on the safe side
Summary: What do a Lieutenant in the Marines and an astrophysicist have in common? They both remember.
Notes: I kind of ran out of time--so if things seem a bit stilted or rushed, it's because, well, it kind of...was. ^_^;; Also--it spoils Hot Zone fairly severely, as it takes place two days after it.
There are three ankh pendants in Aiden Ford’s room. They’re hanging from a string, which he pulled taut between two thumbtacks he brought for that sole purpose, glittering in the moonlight as he stares at them. Each one has a name attached-engraved in the back, plain up-and-down letters spelling out the names or, in the case of one, a designation.
He rolls over in bed so he can’t stare at them, and tries to go back to sleep, but memories, scents, sensations keep replaying in his mind and he gives up. It’s the Atlantean equivalent of three in the morning, but he rolls out of bed anyway and gets dressed-his day off, so he pulls on a sweatshirt and some jeans. He’ll go to the commissary, maybe, and get coffee-or rather, the Atlantean version of coffee that the Athosians harvest on the mainland and the chemists swear is caffeinated. Ford trusts the chemists-the scientists know their stimulants, and besides, he’s seen Rodney drink it before. Maybe it tastes like muck-he’s never tried it-but Ford knows that Rodney rarely sleeps, and if it helps, it’s worth it.
The commissary is all but abandoned this early. There’s only Kavanaugh, who apparently also thought of a coffee break. Usually they would ignore each other-they had a mutual agreement of hostility, due to Ford’s unwavering loyalty in Doctor Weir and Kavanaugh’s unwavering hate of her-but today is different. Instead they nod respectfully at each other and part ways. Ford goes straight for the ha-jhe--the Athosian coffee-substitute. It, quite luckily, doesn’t taste like sludge, and reminds him faintly of high-quality hazelnut chocolates.
He takes his coffee back to his quarters, and tidies the place up a bit-mostly putting clothes in the wicker-like basket the Athosians provided and shoving said basket under his bed. He isn’t planning on spending his entire day off in his quarters-he’ll go have breakfast with his team, he supposes, but today isn’t the kind of day one spends having a good time-that seems wrong, somehow. If he were back on Earth, he’d spend it with his team-his former team, he keeps forgetting that-getting drunk and trading stories, but while he supposes there are a few stories that could be traded today that would be appropriate, it wouldn’t feel right, not to mention he’s always on-call as Atlantis’s military second-in-command, so he couldn’t get drunk anyway. Which is somewhat disappointing.
At six (Atlantean time-the days are three hours longer than Earth’s days), someone knocks on his door. Sheppard, probably, he realizes. He pulls on a hat and leaves the room for breakfast with the team. Which usually wouldn’t be so bad, but today seems rather tedious.
Rodney is quieter than usual, Sheppard tries small talk a few times, and Teyla is seeming oddly cold towards her commanding officer. Ford doesn’t mind, since he really isn’t in the mood for conversation. He imagines the others are chalking it up to the same events they’re probably chalking everything else up to-two days ago, the scientists, the nanovirus. He lets them believe that.
Rodney, Zelenka, Carson, and the other scientists haven’t mentioned his outburst-or if they have, it hasn’t gotten back to him yet. He’s glad, actually-it’s just one more thing he doesn’t really feel like explaining.
“Rodney, for God’s sake, are you ever going to talk about it?” Sheppard asks finally, letting his fork drop.
Rodney looks up at him, then back down. “What’s to talk about? I’ve lost seven members of my team in the past two weeks, two having had the life sucked out of them by aliens and the other five dying bleeding and screaming in the most horrific scene I have ever seen in my life. What’s to talk about?” His voice is slightly raised now, and Ford numbly notes that it’s a good thing nobody else is in the mess hall.
“Rodney, you can’t just keep burying it,” Sheppard insists, keeping his voice low. “It only hurts more when it comes out, let me tell you.”
“I’m dealing with it, Major,” Rodney says, his voice clipped as he rises. “Okay? Dealt with. Done. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a memorial service to plan.”
He leaves, fleeing-Ford can relate. Sheppard rises to follow, but Teyla puts out a hand to stop him and says something quietly. Ford’s stopped listening. He pushes himself away from the table and mumbles something incoherent about plans and flees as well.
He stays in his quarters for a while, polishing the ankhs regularly, before he remembers a small pouch Doctor Jackson gravely gave him before he left. He goes to his duffel bag and pulls out the small plastic bag, looking at the contents seriously, before going to find McKay.
He’s in the first place Ford looks-his lab, of course.
“Rodney?” Ford calls as the door opens for him.
“Go away, Ford,” Rodney calls back. He’s working on something that’s creating considerable sparks, and looks rather dangerous.
“Actually-can I come in?” Ford stands there awkwardly for a moment, before Rodney sighs and puts something on the table that stops the sparking.
“May as well get it over with,” he says in his unique McKay way. Ford enters and rubs his thumb along the grooves of the plastic bag’s contents for a moment, before he speaks.
“At the SGC, there’s kind of a-a tradition, of sorts,” he says, opening the bag. He lets the contents fall into his palm-five silver ankh pendants. “It started after Doctor Jackson-he was on this planet, on an archeological survey with SG-5. Anyway, something happened, and, well, he survived, and SG-5 didn’t. They had a memorial service, and when Doctor Jay came, he brought a whole bunch of these. He said that they’re the Egyptian symbol for eternal life, and in the memorial service, said some pretty nice things about remembrance, and how nobody’s gone unless their forgotten-the point is, he gave these out, except they had ‘SG-5’ engraved on the back, and said that we would always have these to remember SG-5, and as long as we remembered them, they’d never really die. That’s how it got started, but it kind of…morphed, so that every time somebody lost someone they knew, they’d get one, with the name of whoever they’d lost engraved on the back, so that nobody in the SGC would ever be dead. So I thought-I mean, we don’t have an engraver or anything, but I figure you’ll remember who they’re for, right?” He picks out an ankh with a carefully trained eye, and hands it to Rodney. “Those seven scientists-I didn’t know any of them really well, but I figure you can remember them for all of us, right?”
He drops the other four ankhs into the bag again, and the bag into his pocket, carefully avoiding Rodney’s eyes. “I just-figured you’d want that,” he concluds awkwardly. “I’ll…leave you to your sparking.” He turns and walks towards the door, but Rodney’s half-broken voice stops him.
“How many do you have?” he asks. Ford turns around, and sees that Rodney is still looking sadly at the ankh. Ford has a sudden flash of memory-a sound, a smell, a laugh.
“Three,” Ford answers. Rodney nods, still looking at the ankh.
“Ford?” The scientist pauses for a moment, tears shining in his eyes. “…thanks.”
Ford smiles and nods sadly, then leaves Rodney to grieve.