Last Man tag - 'Windows of the Soul"
Posted on behalf of padawan_aneiki
Title: Windows of the Soul
Autor: padawan_aneiki
Rating/Pairing: G/None
Characters: John and holo-Rodney
Summary: a moment or two of reflection
Windows of the Soul
It was lame, asking about the Super Bowl. He knew it and probably in its own weird way, so did the holographic representation of Rodney. But it bought him a few extra seconds, just a few, to really look at the face of his friend one more time before he would sleep...for a few hundred years.
For just a few moments, he forgot about the “what-ifs” regarding the dying sun overhead and the shields holding long enough and would there be air for him to breathe when he emerged from stasis. For a few moments, he set aside the painful endings he had heard about, and the pain he felt like a physical blow from the losses, and just stared at the virtual scientist before him, scanning the cragged and wrinkled features.
Underneath all that, it was still Rodney. Ever the sarcastic, egotistic scientist and yet...there was something more and John asked about a few other sports titles, bargaining for just a few more moments. The eyes are the window to the soul.
John finally looked, really looked, at virtual Rodney’s eyes and while he knew it was an incorporeal representation of what his friend had become, he could see in blue eyes under slightly bushier brows, a depth of hope and desperation that was both familiar and yet...terrifyingly abject. John couldn’t help but tense as he tried to comprehend the idea of Rodney McKay spending a quarter of his life to bring him home, but then he relaxed just a little as he realized he could see that, too. Oddly enough the holographic face bore the unspoken affection of a friendship rekindled that warmed him. He resisted any wisecracks about being stuck with each other again if this worked; there was too much loss bearing down on the slightly slumped, aged shoulders.
Finally there were no more words to say, and John squared his shoulders a little as VR Rodney prepared to activate the chamber. John held its gaze to the last, fervently praying he could avoid this terrible future for all of them, but especially for Rodney, who never should have had to bear the burden of being the last of their team. Or the burden of grief and regret for so many, or the burden of too little to hope for. It was enough to make him feel a bit sick to his stomach, but then he felt the stasis field coming over him and it all faded away.
Frozen in time, he didn’t see the hologram stare at his stilled features for a handful of heartbeats more, as if seeking out hazel eyes to find a memory lost. The colonel would’ve understood it was just a programmed response, the sort of thing McKay would’ve done had he been there in the flesh. For a brief moment the virtual McKay appeared to swallow hard before turning away from the stasis pod and vanishing, grumbling to itself about a certain pilot’s lack of morals when it came to gambling with ‘inside information’ and how it was always up to him to save the same pilot from certain disaster.
It was just a footnote in the core of the virtual memory, logged there until the day John Sheppard returned to Atlantis and its existence would wink out, or they failed in their attempt and the Mark-12 gave out. However, it had almost certainly sensed-and logged-unshed tears in the hazel eyes. It would not be spoken of on bringing Sheppard out of the stasis pod; the logic written into the software governing the hologram’s “McKay persona” dictated it would not be brought up by the real McKay. So it remained hidden in layers of virtual memory until the end. Had John been aware in that brief instant, it might have been a last, lonely secret between friends, passed between the windows of their souls.
But the hazel eyes continued to stare, sightless, into the eternity that seemed to yawn before them.
McKay stopped grumbling and winked out. There was five hundred more years of work to do.
Title: Windows of the Soul
Autor: padawan_aneiki
Rating/Pairing: G/None
Characters: John and holo-Rodney
Summary: a moment or two of reflection
Windows of the Soul
It was lame, asking about the Super Bowl. He knew it and probably in its own weird way, so did the holographic representation of Rodney. But it bought him a few extra seconds, just a few, to really look at the face of his friend one more time before he would sleep...for a few hundred years.
For just a few moments, he forgot about the “what-ifs” regarding the dying sun overhead and the shields holding long enough and would there be air for him to breathe when he emerged from stasis. For a few moments, he set aside the painful endings he had heard about, and the pain he felt like a physical blow from the losses, and just stared at the virtual scientist before him, scanning the cragged and wrinkled features.
Underneath all that, it was still Rodney. Ever the sarcastic, egotistic scientist and yet...there was something more and John asked about a few other sports titles, bargaining for just a few more moments. The eyes are the window to the soul.
John finally looked, really looked, at virtual Rodney’s eyes and while he knew it was an incorporeal representation of what his friend had become, he could see in blue eyes under slightly bushier brows, a depth of hope and desperation that was both familiar and yet...terrifyingly abject. John couldn’t help but tense as he tried to comprehend the idea of Rodney McKay spending a quarter of his life to bring him home, but then he relaxed just a little as he realized he could see that, too. Oddly enough the holographic face bore the unspoken affection of a friendship rekindled that warmed him. He resisted any wisecracks about being stuck with each other again if this worked; there was too much loss bearing down on the slightly slumped, aged shoulders.
Finally there were no more words to say, and John squared his shoulders a little as VR Rodney prepared to activate the chamber. John held its gaze to the last, fervently praying he could avoid this terrible future for all of them, but especially for Rodney, who never should have had to bear the burden of being the last of their team. Or the burden of grief and regret for so many, or the burden of too little to hope for. It was enough to make him feel a bit sick to his stomach, but then he felt the stasis field coming over him and it all faded away.
Frozen in time, he didn’t see the hologram stare at his stilled features for a handful of heartbeats more, as if seeking out hazel eyes to find a memory lost. The colonel would’ve understood it was just a programmed response, the sort of thing McKay would’ve done had he been there in the flesh. For a brief moment the virtual McKay appeared to swallow hard before turning away from the stasis pod and vanishing, grumbling to itself about a certain pilot’s lack of morals when it came to gambling with ‘inside information’ and how it was always up to him to save the same pilot from certain disaster.
It was just a footnote in the core of the virtual memory, logged there until the day John Sheppard returned to Atlantis and its existence would wink out, or they failed in their attempt and the Mark-12 gave out. However, it had almost certainly sensed-and logged-unshed tears in the hazel eyes. It would not be spoken of on bringing Sheppard out of the stasis pod; the logic written into the software governing the hologram’s “McKay persona” dictated it would not be brought up by the real McKay. So it remained hidden in layers of virtual memory until the end. Had John been aware in that brief instant, it might have been a last, lonely secret between friends, passed between the windows of their souls.
But the hazel eyes continued to stare, sightless, into the eternity that seemed to yawn before them.
McKay stopped grumbling and winked out. There was five hundred more years of work to do.