Life After Survival by blade_girl
Title: Life After Survival
Author: Blade blade_girl
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Warnings: Major character death
Summary: Sometimes you lose your footing, and all that stops you from disappearing into the abyss is your tie to someone else.
A/N: I wasn’t going to do this, but this idea made a meal of my brain. This is another short one, a companion piece to my previous Missing Persons challenge response, The Speed of Acceptance If you haven’t read that, this one will make less sense.
ETA: And now there is a third installment: Ritual of Denial.
Rodney keeps thinking about mountain climbing.
Well, not actually about climbing, but a scene from a movie about mountain climbing that he saw years ago. An expedition is scaling the Himalayan mountain known as K2. Some ice gives way on a ledge. One of the native guides is sliding off, and a quick-thinking climber grabs the guy’s rope with one hand and drives his pick into the ice with the other, saving the guide’s life.
Climbers work in pairs, generally. In any case, they always climb tethered, for safety. Sometimes you lose your footing, and all that stops you from disappearing into the abyss is your tie to someone else.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The nights should be the worst. The troubled mind, the twitchy sleeping pattern, the nightmares… it’s all pretty awful, and all pretty standard. In the blink of an eye, two people he’d cared about had fallen out of existence right in front of him. He’d have to be one cold bastard to not be tormented during those quiet nighttime hours.
Still, the nights aren’t the worst. Sometimes he’ll dream about it, hear Teyla’s gasp just as he hears the ground crumbling beneath her. Ronon growls - he thinks he really heard that, but maybe it’s an embellishment - and lunges for her, but the ground under him is already going. Rodney whirls around when he first hears the sounds, but it takes an eternity for him to move. He’s pretty sure that’s exactly how it happened in reality.
Then suddenly he can move and he’s darting toward the edge - rushing even though his rational mind already knows they are lost, because the ground they’d been standing on is gone - and he sees now that Sheppard’s sliding off, too.
The nights are not the worst, because it’s the days that show him the full extent of his loss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carson should have feathers and cluck. The doctor’s empathy is a bottomless pit (Rodney thinks that might be why Carson went into research rather than clinical practice, and he can’t even begin to imagine what three years of being CMO must be doing to him), and every time they make eye contact, Rodney sees his own misery compounded with deep, helpless compassion.
Carson suffers on his behalf, torturing himself with the knowledge that there’s nothing he can do to aid Rodney’s inner healing. It’s why Rodney bites his head off a lot, because Rodney’s own suffering is more than enough, thanks. He doesn’t need to see someone else mirroring his burden.
“How are you sleeping lately?”
“About the same.”
Carson nods somberly. “Need anything for it?”
“Time travel,” Rodney says, picking up his empty tray.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you still having the nightmares?”
Rodney huffs a brief, humorless laugh. “Of course I am.”
Kate shows sympathy, a sterile kind that only goes a couple of inches deep. No doubt she feels plenty more, but her professional decorum - and probably her own sanity - requires her to maintain emotional distance. “Do you want to talk about them?”
He does, actually. The dream keeps morphing. For a while, it was a stark replay of the accident, then there were variations in which Rodney caused the landslide. Now, it’s mostly as he remembers the incident, but when he grabs for Sheppard’s hand, he misses. The last thing he hears is the total silence of Sheppard’s descent.
“Why do you think you’re dreaming it that way?” Kate asks.
“Because it’s what really happened.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He sees Sheppard every single day. They attend the same meetings, pass each other in the halls. Sometimes Rodney sees him in the mess, from across the room or across the table. It doesn’t matter. It is always from a distance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He and Radek are running an experiment. It’s late, but Elizabeth drops by. She’s been around a lot lately. Rodney knows she’s trying to fill a void. It hurts that the effort comforts him a little.
Rodney and Radek volleyball a brief report - they’ve recently regained their combative rhythm - and the conversation turns lighter, companionable. Rodney makes a stinging comment, Radek rebutts it, Elizabeth shakes her head. Shortly, they are all laughing, and Rodney feels something loosen a notch inside him.
It is the saddest happy moment of his life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He turns a corner, eyes on his datapad, feels someone suddenly in his way. He stares into Ronon’s laughing eyes, shocked into motionlessness. So much should be said, but nothing is. Ronon merely smiles, puts a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, and gives it a squeeze.
When he wakes up, Rodney touches his shoulder and relaxes back into slumber.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A meeting of the senior staff breaks up, and Rodney overhears Lorne asking Sheppard an operational question. Sheppard answers him, not monosyllabic but to the point. As the colonel walks away, Lorne watches, looking like he might go after him. Rodney’s relieved when the major just grimaces and goes about his own business. Sometimes all you do is slow their descent, and they don’t always thank you for it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rocky dirt scrapes his cheek painfully as his hand closes around Sheppard’s wrist and Rodney is dragged toward the edge. The fingers of his free hand scratch frantically for something unmoving. They find it, and his arms and shoulders snap taut. The wrist holding Sheppard is twisted awkwardly, and Rodney feels sharp, hot pain.
It’s a tug-of-war with gravity, and Rodney’s sure he can’t keep a grip on both the rock in one hand and the colonel in the other. Maybe Sheppard could have done it; he’s stronger.
Rodney’s not strong enough to hold on, but he does.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They’ve been cleared for off-world for weeks. Sheppard still hasn’t selected new teammates. Everyone thinks he’s afraid that replacing Teyla and Ronon is acknowledging that they’re not coming back. Rodney knows it’s acknowledging that Sheppard did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He stalks into his lab, angry, hurt. The falling seems like it will never stop.
Sometime later, Radek comes to show him a report by one of the newer scientists. They make mincemeat of it and agree that the newbie needs to get in the express line for clues.
Radek starts to leave, then turns. “Your cup is empty. Care to get some coffee?”
As they head down the hall, Rodney feels his pick buried firmly, securely in the ice.
He’s afraid it might be time to let go of the rope.
Author: Blade blade_girl
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Warnings: Major character death
Summary: Sometimes you lose your footing, and all that stops you from disappearing into the abyss is your tie to someone else.
A/N: I wasn’t going to do this, but this idea made a meal of my brain. This is another short one, a companion piece to my previous Missing Persons challenge response, The Speed of Acceptance If you haven’t read that, this one will make less sense.
ETA: And now there is a third installment: Ritual of Denial.
Rodney keeps thinking about mountain climbing.
Well, not actually about climbing, but a scene from a movie about mountain climbing that he saw years ago. An expedition is scaling the Himalayan mountain known as K2. Some ice gives way on a ledge. One of the native guides is sliding off, and a quick-thinking climber grabs the guy’s rope with one hand and drives his pick into the ice with the other, saving the guide’s life.
Climbers work in pairs, generally. In any case, they always climb tethered, for safety. Sometimes you lose your footing, and all that stops you from disappearing into the abyss is your tie to someone else.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The nights should be the worst. The troubled mind, the twitchy sleeping pattern, the nightmares… it’s all pretty awful, and all pretty standard. In the blink of an eye, two people he’d cared about had fallen out of existence right in front of him. He’d have to be one cold bastard to not be tormented during those quiet nighttime hours.
Still, the nights aren’t the worst. Sometimes he’ll dream about it, hear Teyla’s gasp just as he hears the ground crumbling beneath her. Ronon growls - he thinks he really heard that, but maybe it’s an embellishment - and lunges for her, but the ground under him is already going. Rodney whirls around when he first hears the sounds, but it takes an eternity for him to move. He’s pretty sure that’s exactly how it happened in reality.
Then suddenly he can move and he’s darting toward the edge - rushing even though his rational mind already knows they are lost, because the ground they’d been standing on is gone - and he sees now that Sheppard’s sliding off, too.
The nights are not the worst, because it’s the days that show him the full extent of his loss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carson should have feathers and cluck. The doctor’s empathy is a bottomless pit (Rodney thinks that might be why Carson went into research rather than clinical practice, and he can’t even begin to imagine what three years of being CMO must be doing to him), and every time they make eye contact, Rodney sees his own misery compounded with deep, helpless compassion.
Carson suffers on his behalf, torturing himself with the knowledge that there’s nothing he can do to aid Rodney’s inner healing. It’s why Rodney bites his head off a lot, because Rodney’s own suffering is more than enough, thanks. He doesn’t need to see someone else mirroring his burden.
“How are you sleeping lately?”
“About the same.”
Carson nods somberly. “Need anything for it?”
“Time travel,” Rodney says, picking up his empty tray.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you still having the nightmares?”
Rodney huffs a brief, humorless laugh. “Of course I am.”
Kate shows sympathy, a sterile kind that only goes a couple of inches deep. No doubt she feels plenty more, but her professional decorum - and probably her own sanity - requires her to maintain emotional distance. “Do you want to talk about them?”
He does, actually. The dream keeps morphing. For a while, it was a stark replay of the accident, then there were variations in which Rodney caused the landslide. Now, it’s mostly as he remembers the incident, but when he grabs for Sheppard’s hand, he misses. The last thing he hears is the total silence of Sheppard’s descent.
“Why do you think you’re dreaming it that way?” Kate asks.
“Because it’s what really happened.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He sees Sheppard every single day. They attend the same meetings, pass each other in the halls. Sometimes Rodney sees him in the mess, from across the room or across the table. It doesn’t matter. It is always from a distance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He and Radek are running an experiment. It’s late, but Elizabeth drops by. She’s been around a lot lately. Rodney knows she’s trying to fill a void. It hurts that the effort comforts him a little.
Rodney and Radek volleyball a brief report - they’ve recently regained their combative rhythm - and the conversation turns lighter, companionable. Rodney makes a stinging comment, Radek rebutts it, Elizabeth shakes her head. Shortly, they are all laughing, and Rodney feels something loosen a notch inside him.
It is the saddest happy moment of his life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He turns a corner, eyes on his datapad, feels someone suddenly in his way. He stares into Ronon’s laughing eyes, shocked into motionlessness. So much should be said, but nothing is. Ronon merely smiles, puts a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, and gives it a squeeze.
When he wakes up, Rodney touches his shoulder and relaxes back into slumber.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A meeting of the senior staff breaks up, and Rodney overhears Lorne asking Sheppard an operational question. Sheppard answers him, not monosyllabic but to the point. As the colonel walks away, Lorne watches, looking like he might go after him. Rodney’s relieved when the major just grimaces and goes about his own business. Sometimes all you do is slow their descent, and they don’t always thank you for it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rocky dirt scrapes his cheek painfully as his hand closes around Sheppard’s wrist and Rodney is dragged toward the edge. The fingers of his free hand scratch frantically for something unmoving. They find it, and his arms and shoulders snap taut. The wrist holding Sheppard is twisted awkwardly, and Rodney feels sharp, hot pain.
It’s a tug-of-war with gravity, and Rodney’s sure he can’t keep a grip on both the rock in one hand and the colonel in the other. Maybe Sheppard could have done it; he’s stronger.
Rodney’s not strong enough to hold on, but he does.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They’ve been cleared for off-world for weeks. Sheppard still hasn’t selected new teammates. Everyone thinks he’s afraid that replacing Teyla and Ronon is acknowledging that they’re not coming back. Rodney knows it’s acknowledging that Sheppard did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He stalks into his lab, angry, hurt. The falling seems like it will never stop.
Sometime later, Radek comes to show him a report by one of the newer scientists. They make mincemeat of it and agree that the newbie needs to get in the express line for clues.
Radek starts to leave, then turns. “Your cup is empty. Care to get some coffee?”
As they head down the hall, Rodney feels his pick buried firmly, securely in the ice.
He’s afraid it might be time to let go of the rope.