Fic: Rewind
Title: Rewind
Fandom: SGU
Pairing: Rush/Young, background Park/Greer
Rating: R
Warnings: ??
Notes: This went faster than I expected. :D
Summary: Being back on Destiny is like taking a trip through time. That doesn't mean everything's fixed.
part 1
Every movement is an alien come to send them deeper into the enclosure. Every sound is a gunshot. The beds are uncomfortably soft, and cold. The food is odd after years of living on meat and fruit.
Hour outside, month inside, multiply by forty. It was like stepping out of a time machine.
Rush is coping better than him. But then, Rush has been through this before.
“You’ve been sending your subordinates to make your reports.”
Young deliberately folds his hands behind his back. “I’ve been in the infirmary.”
“What happened?”
“There was an incident on-planet; Lt. Scott will have reported it.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“Forty months?” TJ repeated, incredulous. “That’s a little over three years.”
Rush tries to explain it with his hands, but TJ doesn’t understand him. That’s okay. Young doesn’t really understand it himself.
What they are able to explain is that it’s some kind of lab, that they were being observed. The aliens had sent more patrols after Young got better at evading them; after he starting killing them, they tried harder to keep him.
“Why did you attack?” TJ asks. “Did they…what made you start fighting them?”
Young shrugs, mouths samples, waves it away as nothing. He makes it clear that he started hiding again after he and Rush found each other.
Telford shakes his head at the edited version of Young’s story. “Every off-world prison’s a little different. And you just got out of the infirmary?”
“Yes.” That’s a lie, but Telford doesn’t need to know.
There’s some administrative details, but Young keeps his eyes carefully to the left of Telford’s face. Maybe on Destiny it was an empty gesture, but not to him. Not yet.
“Homeworld Command expects you to make a report soon.”
Rush scowls. “Will you stop fucking whispering?”
Young shoots a pained look at both of them. To Camille he says “I don’t think that’s gonna work.”
“I figured as much,” she says, folding her arms. “Do you have a plan?”
“Send Scott for now,” Young says, thinking. “Let him give a short summary of events.”
“And hide out on the ship like a bloody coward.”
Young rolls his eyes. “I’m not allowed off the ship right now; TJ’s orders.”
“Loosely interpreted,” Camille says with a small smile. She ignores the look Rush sends her and sighs. “I should go. You’re not the only person who needs to report.”
He goes swimming in a lake on a planet full of them. He’s always been an awkward swimmer, but right now it’s easy. He glides through the water like he was born to it, going deeper and deeper, heart pounding in his chest. He catches a fish and swims to the surface with it - food is always good.
On the shore, everyone is either food gathering or getting some time in the sun. Scott’s taken a dip too, but now he’s sitting at the edge of the water trying to fish. He smiles. “I didn’t know you could hold your breath that long, sir.”
Young tosses the fish onto the grass. “Neither did I.”
“Varro found some eggs,” Scott continues, squinting into the sun. He sticks his feet in the water. “So far, you’re the one with the most luck catching fish.”
A short distance away, Park is sitting next to Greer, her face turned up towards the sun. Greer’s talking; from the sounds of it, he’s describing the planet to her. It’s a quiet place, not a lot of animals. A couple of scientists were digging for worms.
“I’ll see if I can catch some more,” Young says. When he’s pushing off, he almost sees a film between his fingers; must be a trick of the light.
For a while, he takes his meals anywhere but the mess. It’s easy enough when he’s still in the infirmary, but when he’s in his own quarters it becomes a matter of figuring out when the smallest amount of people will be present so he can slip in and out, or finding reasons to have one person bring lunch for everyone.
He drops in on the science team a lot. Rush is hardly ever there to call him on it.
Destiny stops by a planet where they find hundreds of something like sheep. They’re in a valley, and the valley is full of alien sheep. They don’t see any sign of shepherds, but they do see pterodactyls or something - off in the distance, and people shy. They keep an eye out, in case the pterodactyls attack, or they get caught thieving.
They don’t just take sheep. There are these blue potatoes, and something that’s either carrots or hemlock.
Butchering animals is messy business; they use as much as they can. They don’t have a freezer - there might be one somewhere, in one of the unexplored areas of the ship, but not in the habitable area.
“We’re keeping these?” Greer asks, poking the hides with the toe of his boot.
“Yep,” Young says.
James chuckles. “Think of all the socks.”
He grins, ignoring the teasing. “Yes, socks, blankets, anything. Unless they find a way to dial in soon, we’re going to need things like that. To be honest, I wish we could do some shearing on a few of these things. Who knows when we’re gonna get another opportunity like this.”
“It’s going to be interesting making yarn out of this,” James says. She doesn’t touch them with her bloody hands. “I mean, I read a book once where they talked about carding and stuff, but I don’t know anyone who can do all that. I mean, actually do it.”
“Wray can knit,” Young says, “Barnes and Dunning know how to crochet. As for the other stuff, we can get some advice from earth.”
“That’s gonna be interesting,” Greer says. “That’s gonna require building some equipment. I don’t think whittling’s enough to cut it.”
Young shrugs. “We have to start sometime. Better now than when we’re in desperate need of it.”
Young doesn’t know what wakes him up. They’re on the bed this time. He opens his eyes to Rush scribbling on a sheet of paper - probably pilfered from Brody’s project, which was a perpetual work in progress.
Young pokes him in the side. Rush puts his pencil in his mouth and passes a hand over Young’s eyes. Young’s too tired to inquire further. He curl’s into Rush’s side to block out the faint light and goes back to sleep.
Young runs his hand up Rush’s flank, the lightest of touches, smiling at the hitch in Rush’s breath. He’s felt it - the sharp upward motion - but he’s never heard it before.
Rush catches the hand, and Young sees it, the film between his fingers, up to the first knuckle. He jerks, but Rush grabs his arm. “Later. Don’t think about it right now.” He breathes it into Young’s ear, traces the film with his thumb, his other hand sliding across Young’s stomach. “Don’t think.”
He saw it before Young did. He already knew.
Next
Fandom: SGU
Pairing: Rush/Young, background Park/Greer
Rating: R
Warnings: ??
Notes: This went faster than I expected. :D
Summary: Being back on Destiny is like taking a trip through time. That doesn't mean everything's fixed.
part 1
Every movement is an alien come to send them deeper into the enclosure. Every sound is a gunshot. The beds are uncomfortably soft, and cold. The food is odd after years of living on meat and fruit.
Hour outside, month inside, multiply by forty. It was like stepping out of a time machine.
Rush is coping better than him. But then, Rush has been through this before.
“You’ve been sending your subordinates to make your reports.”
Young deliberately folds his hands behind his back. “I’ve been in the infirmary.”
“What happened?”
“There was an incident on-planet; Lt. Scott will have reported it.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“Forty months?” TJ repeated, incredulous. “That’s a little over three years.”
Rush tries to explain it with his hands, but TJ doesn’t understand him. That’s okay. Young doesn’t really understand it himself.
What they are able to explain is that it’s some kind of lab, that they were being observed. The aliens had sent more patrols after Young got better at evading them; after he starting killing them, they tried harder to keep him.
“Why did you attack?” TJ asks. “Did they…what made you start fighting them?”
Young shrugs, mouths samples, waves it away as nothing. He makes it clear that he started hiding again after he and Rush found each other.
Telford shakes his head at the edited version of Young’s story. “Every off-world prison’s a little different. And you just got out of the infirmary?”
“Yes.” That’s a lie, but Telford doesn’t need to know.
There’s some administrative details, but Young keeps his eyes carefully to the left of Telford’s face. Maybe on Destiny it was an empty gesture, but not to him. Not yet.
“Homeworld Command expects you to make a report soon.”
Rush scowls. “Will you stop fucking whispering?”
Young shoots a pained look at both of them. To Camille he says “I don’t think that’s gonna work.”
“I figured as much,” she says, folding her arms. “Do you have a plan?”
“Send Scott for now,” Young says, thinking. “Let him give a short summary of events.”
“And hide out on the ship like a bloody coward.”
Young rolls his eyes. “I’m not allowed off the ship right now; TJ’s orders.”
“Loosely interpreted,” Camille says with a small smile. She ignores the look Rush sends her and sighs. “I should go. You’re not the only person who needs to report.”
He goes swimming in a lake on a planet full of them. He’s always been an awkward swimmer, but right now it’s easy. He glides through the water like he was born to it, going deeper and deeper, heart pounding in his chest. He catches a fish and swims to the surface with it - food is always good.
On the shore, everyone is either food gathering or getting some time in the sun. Scott’s taken a dip too, but now he’s sitting at the edge of the water trying to fish. He smiles. “I didn’t know you could hold your breath that long, sir.”
Young tosses the fish onto the grass. “Neither did I.”
“Varro found some eggs,” Scott continues, squinting into the sun. He sticks his feet in the water. “So far, you’re the one with the most luck catching fish.”
A short distance away, Park is sitting next to Greer, her face turned up towards the sun. Greer’s talking; from the sounds of it, he’s describing the planet to her. It’s a quiet place, not a lot of animals. A couple of scientists were digging for worms.
“I’ll see if I can catch some more,” Young says. When he’s pushing off, he almost sees a film between his fingers; must be a trick of the light.
For a while, he takes his meals anywhere but the mess. It’s easy enough when he’s still in the infirmary, but when he’s in his own quarters it becomes a matter of figuring out when the smallest amount of people will be present so he can slip in and out, or finding reasons to have one person bring lunch for everyone.
He drops in on the science team a lot. Rush is hardly ever there to call him on it.
Destiny stops by a planet where they find hundreds of something like sheep. They’re in a valley, and the valley is full of alien sheep. They don’t see any sign of shepherds, but they do see pterodactyls or something - off in the distance, and people shy. They keep an eye out, in case the pterodactyls attack, or they get caught thieving.
They don’t just take sheep. There are these blue potatoes, and something that’s either carrots or hemlock.
Butchering animals is messy business; they use as much as they can. They don’t have a freezer - there might be one somewhere, in one of the unexplored areas of the ship, but not in the habitable area.
“We’re keeping these?” Greer asks, poking the hides with the toe of his boot.
“Yep,” Young says.
James chuckles. “Think of all the socks.”
He grins, ignoring the teasing. “Yes, socks, blankets, anything. Unless they find a way to dial in soon, we’re going to need things like that. To be honest, I wish we could do some shearing on a few of these things. Who knows when we’re gonna get another opportunity like this.”
“It’s going to be interesting making yarn out of this,” James says. She doesn’t touch them with her bloody hands. “I mean, I read a book once where they talked about carding and stuff, but I don’t know anyone who can do all that. I mean, actually do it.”
“Wray can knit,” Young says, “Barnes and Dunning know how to crochet. As for the other stuff, we can get some advice from earth.”
“That’s gonna be interesting,” Greer says. “That’s gonna require building some equipment. I don’t think whittling’s enough to cut it.”
Young shrugs. “We have to start sometime. Better now than when we’re in desperate need of it.”
Young doesn’t know what wakes him up. They’re on the bed this time. He opens his eyes to Rush scribbling on a sheet of paper - probably pilfered from Brody’s project, which was a perpetual work in progress.
Young pokes him in the side. Rush puts his pencil in his mouth and passes a hand over Young’s eyes. Young’s too tired to inquire further. He curl’s into Rush’s side to block out the faint light and goes back to sleep.
Young runs his hand up Rush’s flank, the lightest of touches, smiling at the hitch in Rush’s breath. He’s felt it - the sharp upward motion - but he’s never heard it before.
Rush catches the hand, and Young sees it, the film between his fingers, up to the first knuckle. He jerks, but Rush grabs his arm. “Later. Don’t think about it right now.” He breathes it into Young’s ear, traces the film with his thumb, his other hand sliding across Young’s stomach. “Don’t think.”
He saw it before Young did. He already knew.
Next