Fic: Weather Man
Jun. 26th, 2011 09:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thelibraniniquity posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tli_productionsTitle: Weather Man
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Summary: It's raining when Rodney finds him. John, in a moment of aftermath.
Characters: John, Rodney; references to others.
Rating: PG
Length: ~880
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
explodedpen
Author's Notes: Inspired bywihluta's gorgeous artwork, "Out Of the Rain" - this is one possible story behind that scene. Set between "The Siege, Part 3" and "Intruder".
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
It's raining when Rodney finds him.
John got out of the debrief a couple of hours ago, and he hadn't been able to settle in the locker room, or even one of the vacant bunk rooms. It's been a year since he's seen Earth's sky, and once presented to him the possibility niggled and nudged until John found himself climbing through hatches and narrow shafts. It had taken some doing but eventually he was on top of Cheyenne Mountain and he could just sit there on the ground, looking up at stars alien and familiar.
He doesn't remember when the stars clouded over and the rain began, but he's still here, kneeling now because nothing else seems appropriate. For everything he's been through over the last year – everything he's seen, done, said, mostly not said – there's something almost refreshing about just being here, like this.
“Hey,” Rodney says from behind him. He's speaking quietly. Moving quietly too, because until he'd spoken John hadn't realised he wasn't alone.
“Hey,” he echoes.
“You know you're going to catch your death of cold out here,” Rodney comments. Any other time that would be funny. It's a balmy fall evening, and even the rain is warm. When John finally looks up, he sees Rodney wearing a long dark jacket over his blue science shirt and carrying an umbrella. Heaven forbid the princess be exposed to the elements.
Like during the storm? Flashes of that night echo through John's mind and suddenly he thinks he understands Rodney's renewed aversion to something as simple as rainfall.
“They finished up with you downstairs, huh?” he asks, because he knows he's supposed to say something in the space before Rodney's rant forms.
Rodney shrugs, and steps closer to John, treading gingerly on muddy grass. “Not much to say.”
“That's a first.”
“Tell me about it. I think I was more surprised than they were.”
John looks up at him, but makes no move to actually get off the ground. Likewise Rodney has zero intention of muddying himself more than he absolutely has to. He's standing there, beside John – just standing there, he realises. No barely contained fear or panic, no manic twitches or bursts of irritating genius waiting for an audience.
If John didn't know any better he'd think Rodney had just gotten laid.
“You're very...” He cocks his head, trying to think of the least inappropriate word for this new version of Rodney. “Mellow.”
Rodney shrugs again. “I'm coming down off a two week high. I'll be like this for a day or so, sleep a solid twenty-four hours after that, and then it's business as usual.”
“Grad school?” John guesses.
“Both times.”
John decides he'll enjoy mellow Rodney while it lasts, as eerie as it is.
“So what brings you out here?” Rodney asks, taking his turn to restart the conversation.
“Air,” John says, because it's close enough to the truth and he doesn't know how to fully articulate the last few days and the way he feels disconnected from everything on a planet that a year ago had been the literal centre of his universe and now felt as alien as the hidden star scape above him.
He thinks it's enough, because Rodney nods.
“We'll be back in Atlantis soon enough,” he tells John.
Yeah, maybe. With Earth's ZPM now powering Atlantis' shields they'll have to hitch a ride back to the Pegasus Galaxy on the Daedalus, him and Rodney and Elizabeth and Carson. John can't see that ending well.
“Elizabeth's negotiating how many personnel we get to requisition to come back with us,” Rodney continues, apparently content in his mostly-one sided conversation. “You know, to...”
To replace everyone who hadn't made it to, or through, the Wraith siege. John knows the drill, how it works. Soldiers die, they get replaced. Except most of their fallen weren't soldiers. Some, but not all. It should worry him that he can't remember the numbers, but they'll come back to him.
“Anyone interesting on the short list?” he asks.
“Idiots and jarheads, probably.” Rodney doesn't sound irritated or amused. “I'll get Zelenka to break them in.”
John huffs. That might be entertaining to watch. At the very least it's something he thinks he can look forward to.
“So, uh,” Rodney says. “Got any plans for the next couple of days?”
There are lots of plans for John's time over the next couple of days, and a few beyond that as well. He's vaguely aware that he's got forms to fill out, letters of condolence to sign, and where possible, visits to make, as the acting commanding officer of the dead soldiers whose bodies are never going to come home, or get the burial they deserve.
“Going up north,” he says eventually. “Ford's grandmother.” He doesn't say any more than that. He hopes he doesn't need to.
“I could ride shotgun,” Rodney offers. “You know, for...”
“Yeah,” John says, “yeah, that'd be good.”
The rain finally lets up, and John lets himself walk back inside Stargate Command, Rodney half a step behind him.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Summary: It's raining when Rodney finds him. John, in a moment of aftermath.
Characters: John, Rodney; references to others.
Rating: PG
Length: ~880
Beta:
explodedpenAuthor's Notes: Inspired by
wihluta's gorgeous artwork, "Out Of the Rain" - this is one possible story behind that scene. Set between "The Siege, Part 3" and "Intruder".It's raining when Rodney finds him.
John got out of the debrief a couple of hours ago, and he hadn't been able to settle in the locker room, or even one of the vacant bunk rooms. It's been a year since he's seen Earth's sky, and once presented to him the possibility niggled and nudged until John found himself climbing through hatches and narrow shafts. It had taken some doing but eventually he was on top of Cheyenne Mountain and he could just sit there on the ground, looking up at stars alien and familiar.
He doesn't remember when the stars clouded over and the rain began, but he's still here, kneeling now because nothing else seems appropriate. For everything he's been through over the last year – everything he's seen, done, said, mostly not said – there's something almost refreshing about just being here, like this.
“Hey,” Rodney says from behind him. He's speaking quietly. Moving quietly too, because until he'd spoken John hadn't realised he wasn't alone.
“Hey,” he echoes.
“You know you're going to catch your death of cold out here,” Rodney comments. Any other time that would be funny. It's a balmy fall evening, and even the rain is warm. When John finally looks up, he sees Rodney wearing a long dark jacket over his blue science shirt and carrying an umbrella. Heaven forbid the princess be exposed to the elements.
Like during the storm? Flashes of that night echo through John's mind and suddenly he thinks he understands Rodney's renewed aversion to something as simple as rainfall.
“They finished up with you downstairs, huh?” he asks, because he knows he's supposed to say something in the space before Rodney's rant forms.
Rodney shrugs, and steps closer to John, treading gingerly on muddy grass. “Not much to say.”
“That's a first.”
“Tell me about it. I think I was more surprised than they were.”
John looks up at him, but makes no move to actually get off the ground. Likewise Rodney has zero intention of muddying himself more than he absolutely has to. He's standing there, beside John – just standing there, he realises. No barely contained fear or panic, no manic twitches or bursts of irritating genius waiting for an audience.
If John didn't know any better he'd think Rodney had just gotten laid.
“You're very...” He cocks his head, trying to think of the least inappropriate word for this new version of Rodney. “Mellow.”
Rodney shrugs again. “I'm coming down off a two week high. I'll be like this for a day or so, sleep a solid twenty-four hours after that, and then it's business as usual.”
“Grad school?” John guesses.
“Both times.”
John decides he'll enjoy mellow Rodney while it lasts, as eerie as it is.
“So what brings you out here?” Rodney asks, taking his turn to restart the conversation.
“Air,” John says, because it's close enough to the truth and he doesn't know how to fully articulate the last few days and the way he feels disconnected from everything on a planet that a year ago had been the literal centre of his universe and now felt as alien as the hidden star scape above him.
He thinks it's enough, because Rodney nods.
“We'll be back in Atlantis soon enough,” he tells John.
Yeah, maybe. With Earth's ZPM now powering Atlantis' shields they'll have to hitch a ride back to the Pegasus Galaxy on the Daedalus, him and Rodney and Elizabeth and Carson. John can't see that ending well.
“Elizabeth's negotiating how many personnel we get to requisition to come back with us,” Rodney continues, apparently content in his mostly-one sided conversation. “You know, to...”
To replace everyone who hadn't made it to, or through, the Wraith siege. John knows the drill, how it works. Soldiers die, they get replaced. Except most of their fallen weren't soldiers. Some, but not all. It should worry him that he can't remember the numbers, but they'll come back to him.
“Anyone interesting on the short list?” he asks.
“Idiots and jarheads, probably.” Rodney doesn't sound irritated or amused. “I'll get Zelenka to break them in.”
John huffs. That might be entertaining to watch. At the very least it's something he thinks he can look forward to.
“So, uh,” Rodney says. “Got any plans for the next couple of days?”
There are lots of plans for John's time over the next couple of days, and a few beyond that as well. He's vaguely aware that he's got forms to fill out, letters of condolence to sign, and where possible, visits to make, as the acting commanding officer of the dead soldiers whose bodies are never going to come home, or get the burial they deserve.
“Going up north,” he says eventually. “Ford's grandmother.” He doesn't say any more than that. He hopes he doesn't need to.
“I could ride shotgun,” Rodney offers. “You know, for...”
“Yeah,” John says, “yeah, that'd be good.”
The rain finally lets up, and John lets himself walk back inside Stargate Command, Rodney half a step behind him.
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Date: 2011-06-27 06:32 am (UTC)OMG.
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Date: 2011-06-27 06:37 am (UTC)*smishes like whoa*
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