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More apocafic ... ish
I seem to be de-apocofying my apocafic. *g* This is for another prompt at the Gen Battle.
Don't get me wrong, the last fic is how it went down, character deaths and all. But ... maybe, somewhere, in an AU of an AU, this happened:
Prompt: Teyla - homesick; kind of dark; 1100 wds
Rodney falls into darkness knowing that at least he managed to take the other bastard with him...
Except he doesn't. Instead he wakes in the sickbay on the Daedalus, his chest hurting like it had been cracked open.
For a while he lays there, staring at the ceiling. A brusque corpsman comes by, pokes at him and tells him a doctor will be able to look at him shortly, make sure there's no internal bleeding before they let him go. They're awfully short-staffed, he's told, but someone will bring him dinner later.
He's hungry now. And thirsty, but the corpsman already left, and there's no call button, and now they're ignoring him.
O'Neill wanders in a little later. "Told you the body armor would save your ass, McKay. They told me you're bruised as hell, but you'll live."
Rodney glowers at him. He's finally managed to get his bed upright, but he's desperately bored and no one will give him anything to do. And he's starving. Sure, people are busy, there are casualties everywhere -- he understands this; all you have to do is look around at the crowded sickbay. They didn't have to yell at him when he asked if he could have a computer.
He's mentally preparing his list of complaints when O'Neill says, "You did good, McKay."
Rodney blinks at him. "What?"
"Don't make me repeat it." O'Neill pats him on the shoulder; Rodney stiffens, not sure how to deal with the sudden switch to unexpected and somewhat unwelcome friendliness -- it just makes him wonder what O'Neill wants from him. "You handled yourself all right down there. I take back ... some of the things I said about you."
"Thanks ... I think." Rodney narrows his eyes. "Wait ... what did you say about me?" But O'Neill is already gone.
He learns over the next few days that Carter's superweapon was a broad-spectrum stun pulse, a modified application of zat technology -- Rodney hates to admit it, but it's kind of, almost, sort of brilliant. It knocked out everyone in Atlantis; most of them -- the survivors of the fighting -- are currently being held down on Atlantis itself, since the two Earth ships are damaged from the fighting and burdened with wounded.
Rodney is surprised to discover that the enemy woman with the copper hair is actually in the sickbay; he sees her one of the times he comes in to get more pain pills for his cracked ribs. He'd thought she was dead on Atlantis; apparently, though, she was only very badly hurt. He's actually a little surprised that he recognizes and remembers her, but she's very distinctive looking. Lying under a blanket with tubes going in and out of her, she looks very fragile and small.
He gets a handful of Tylenol 3 rattling around in the bottom of a plastic bottle (for all their complaints about limited supplies, blah blah, he saw lots of pills in that cabinet; they're obviously just lying to him) and he's beating a hasty retreat past the rows of beds when something snags at his leg.
He looks down in surprise to see that a small, surprisingly strong hand has latched onto the lower edge of his jacket. The copper-haired woman looks up at him from beneath an oxygen mask, blinking sleepily.
"Um," Rodney says, trying to dislodge her with surreptitious tugs, terrified that she's going to try to throw up on him or something. He hates being around sick people; he never knows what they're going to do, and they're always shedding germs and unpleasant bodily fluids.
"Could you please --" Her voice is barely audible. Her free arm is in a cast, but she somehow uses her eyebrows to point at a paper cup beside the bed.
Rodney reluctantly peeks in and discovers ice water, with most of the ice melted. "Uh ... you need a drink?"
She inclines her head in a weak nod. "I am sorry," she whispers. "They are very busy -- I have been waiting a long time..."
Rodney remembers his own tenure in Corpsman Hell. Bracing himself, he picks up the cup, nervously nudging the oxygen mask out of the way (after looking around for medical personnel who might take umbrage at this), and tilts it to her cracked lips. Somehow he manages not to spill it all over her. After taking a few sips, she tries to reach for a small tub of Vaseline with a Q-tip stuck in it. Despite brief horror, Rodney realizes what she wants, and (feeling very proud of himself) dabs a little of it tentatively on her dry lips before replacing the mask.
When he's all done, she smiles at him, and the weird warm feeling is not unpleasant. Then she whispers, "Do you know -- are there survivors? On Atlantis?"
"Yes," he tells her, and her eyes light up in a way that makes him feel about ten feet tall.
"Who?" she whispers, and he has to watch the light go out of her eyes as he says that he doesn't know. Never bothered to ask. He doesn't even know if Weir, the only one of them he's met (however briefly), is one of the surviving prisoners.
"Thank you anyway," she whispers.
Rodney starts to turn away, and then he pauses, remembering what it was like for him, while he was waiting for the doctor to finally check him over and release him. No one came to see him; all the corpsmen were running around doing mysterious medical things, and no one could be bothered to get him a cup of water or bring his laptop. Would people come to see her, he wonders, if they knew she was here? Would they even be allowed?
"Do you want me to check for you?" he asks. "I could look -- I mean, I'm not promising ..."
But she's smiling again, some of the shadows chased away from her eyes -- and it feels good, in a way he can't quite understand, to be able to make her look like that. "Yes, please, if you can," she whispers, reaching out, and he hesitantly allows her dry, cold fingers to curl around his. "And ..." she whispers, "... if Elizabeth or John still lives, could you tell them that Teyla is alive, please, if they don't know?"
"Teyla -- that's you?" he asks, and she nods. "Elizabeth or John?" Another nod.
"Elizabeth Weir," she whispers, "or John Sheppard," and then her eyes close, and Rodney thinks in horror, Oh no, I broke her, before he sees that her chest is still rising and falling.
He gently detaches her fingers from his own, and beats a hasty retreat before he can make any more promises that will get him in trouble.
Don't get me wrong, the last fic is how it went down, character deaths and all. But ... maybe, somewhere, in an AU of an AU, this happened:
Prompt: Teyla - homesick; kind of dark; 1100 wds
Rodney falls into darkness knowing that at least he managed to take the other bastard with him...
Except he doesn't. Instead he wakes in the sickbay on the Daedalus, his chest hurting like it had been cracked open.
For a while he lays there, staring at the ceiling. A brusque corpsman comes by, pokes at him and tells him a doctor will be able to look at him shortly, make sure there's no internal bleeding before they let him go. They're awfully short-staffed, he's told, but someone will bring him dinner later.
He's hungry now. And thirsty, but the corpsman already left, and there's no call button, and now they're ignoring him.
O'Neill wanders in a little later. "Told you the body armor would save your ass, McKay. They told me you're bruised as hell, but you'll live."
Rodney glowers at him. He's finally managed to get his bed upright, but he's desperately bored and no one will give him anything to do. And he's starving. Sure, people are busy, there are casualties everywhere -- he understands this; all you have to do is look around at the crowded sickbay. They didn't have to yell at him when he asked if he could have a computer.
He's mentally preparing his list of complaints when O'Neill says, "You did good, McKay."
Rodney blinks at him. "What?"
"Don't make me repeat it." O'Neill pats him on the shoulder; Rodney stiffens, not sure how to deal with the sudden switch to unexpected and somewhat unwelcome friendliness -- it just makes him wonder what O'Neill wants from him. "You handled yourself all right down there. I take back ... some of the things I said about you."
"Thanks ... I think." Rodney narrows his eyes. "Wait ... what did you say about me?" But O'Neill is already gone.
He learns over the next few days that Carter's superweapon was a broad-spectrum stun pulse, a modified application of zat technology -- Rodney hates to admit it, but it's kind of, almost, sort of brilliant. It knocked out everyone in Atlantis; most of them -- the survivors of the fighting -- are currently being held down on Atlantis itself, since the two Earth ships are damaged from the fighting and burdened with wounded.
Rodney is surprised to discover that the enemy woman with the copper hair is actually in the sickbay; he sees her one of the times he comes in to get more pain pills for his cracked ribs. He'd thought she was dead on Atlantis; apparently, though, she was only very badly hurt. He's actually a little surprised that he recognizes and remembers her, but she's very distinctive looking. Lying under a blanket with tubes going in and out of her, she looks very fragile and small.
He gets a handful of Tylenol 3 rattling around in the bottom of a plastic bottle (for all their complaints about limited supplies, blah blah, he saw lots of pills in that cabinet; they're obviously just lying to him) and he's beating a hasty retreat past the rows of beds when something snags at his leg.
He looks down in surprise to see that a small, surprisingly strong hand has latched onto the lower edge of his jacket. The copper-haired woman looks up at him from beneath an oxygen mask, blinking sleepily.
"Um," Rodney says, trying to dislodge her with surreptitious tugs, terrified that she's going to try to throw up on him or something. He hates being around sick people; he never knows what they're going to do, and they're always shedding germs and unpleasant bodily fluids.
"Could you please --" Her voice is barely audible. Her free arm is in a cast, but she somehow uses her eyebrows to point at a paper cup beside the bed.
Rodney reluctantly peeks in and discovers ice water, with most of the ice melted. "Uh ... you need a drink?"
She inclines her head in a weak nod. "I am sorry," she whispers. "They are very busy -- I have been waiting a long time..."
Rodney remembers his own tenure in Corpsman Hell. Bracing himself, he picks up the cup, nervously nudging the oxygen mask out of the way (after looking around for medical personnel who might take umbrage at this), and tilts it to her cracked lips. Somehow he manages not to spill it all over her. After taking a few sips, she tries to reach for a small tub of Vaseline with a Q-tip stuck in it. Despite brief horror, Rodney realizes what she wants, and (feeling very proud of himself) dabs a little of it tentatively on her dry lips before replacing the mask.
When he's all done, she smiles at him, and the weird warm feeling is not unpleasant. Then she whispers, "Do you know -- are there survivors? On Atlantis?"
"Yes," he tells her, and her eyes light up in a way that makes him feel about ten feet tall.
"Who?" she whispers, and he has to watch the light go out of her eyes as he says that he doesn't know. Never bothered to ask. He doesn't even know if Weir, the only one of them he's met (however briefly), is one of the surviving prisoners.
"Thank you anyway," she whispers.
Rodney starts to turn away, and then he pauses, remembering what it was like for him, while he was waiting for the doctor to finally check him over and release him. No one came to see him; all the corpsmen were running around doing mysterious medical things, and no one could be bothered to get him a cup of water or bring his laptop. Would people come to see her, he wonders, if they knew she was here? Would they even be allowed?
"Do you want me to check for you?" he asks. "I could look -- I mean, I'm not promising ..."
But she's smiling again, some of the shadows chased away from her eyes -- and it feels good, in a way he can't quite understand, to be able to make her look like that. "Yes, please, if you can," she whispers, reaching out, and he hesitantly allows her dry, cold fingers to curl around his. "And ..." she whispers, "... if Elizabeth or John still lives, could you tell them that Teyla is alive, please, if they don't know?"
"Teyla -- that's you?" he asks, and she nods. "Elizabeth or John?" Another nod.
"Elizabeth Weir," she whispers, "or John Sheppard," and then her eyes close, and Rodney thinks in horror, Oh no, I broke her, before he sees that her chest is still rising and falling.
He gently detaches her fingers from his own, and beats a hasty retreat before he can make any more promises that will get him in trouble.
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I like this because it shows how once there's a little chink in the armor of obnoxious, it just keeps growing. Teyla brings out the best in everyone.
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I felt vaguely guilty about writing this because I do feel like I'm undermining the strength of the other piece. But I can't help being a sticky pool of sap some days.
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Speaking of reading SF, I wanted to say how much I enjoyed the discussion about Bear's books. I'm looking forward to others, even if they're books I haven't read.
Do you ever read anything over at Tor.com? (http://www.tor.com) (I realize the whole Racefail thing has tarred Tor, but I won't deny myself interesting posts just because of a few people.) Jo Walton posts there as, um, bluejo, and she's been talking about rereading C.J. Cherryh books and lately, Octavia Butler's. My Star Trek Novel: Octavia Butler's Survivor (http://www.tor.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=blog&id=13324) and Who's Human Anyway? Who's Free? Octavia Butler's Pattern series (http://www.tor.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=blog&id=13093). The discussions tend to leave me with lists of books I want to reread suddenly.
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... and thanks! I really enjoyed it; I'm trying to think how I might pimp out the next discussion(s) to get more people to participate. I love talking about books. (Your icon ... that's me!) I didn't even know that Tor had book discussions -- I'll have to take a look!
I know that recent events have tarred Tor somewhat, and there are definitely a few people over there I'm probably going to try to avoid in the future. But every business I've ever dealt with had some assholes working for it. And Tor also publishes some of the writers that I really enjoy.
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Oh, and try Cherryh's Faded Sun trio. To my mind they hold up very well for being her earlier work.
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As for this story specifically, I really like seeing Rodney respond to even the smallest gestures. (The "Oh, no, I broke her" is great, btw.) And I do like having the option of telling myself they're all okay without having to make it up myself. Heh.
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I'm impressed with where this story is going (this feels like the beginning of a longer story to me) in that it looks like you're going to explore the whys of the AU of the last. Which could well be fascinating.
Also, I love that it begins with Teyla. She's a good place to start. Especially with Rodney in such a newborn place. :)
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Like I said in the comment I just wrote, I think these two AUs work well as companions to each other; neither supersedes the other one. I would like to eventually pursue this a bit more, if I get inspired.
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No rest for the wicked! Crack those fingers over the keyboard and spin us our tale of redemption and hope! Finish this tale and make me proud!
(It's Friday night, I'm slightly drunk, and I'm on painkillers...so I may be a little less measured in my responses than normal. Just FYI. LOL!)
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Painkillers? Not fun! I hope whatever it is has gotten better ...
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Um, yes. Possibly getting a bit carried away there. *g*
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I like the idea that this is just one universe over from the other ...
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I found that both of them were filled with a different kind of darkness than you usually write, and was wondering if that was because the show was over-or you just were writing it just because.
Also, I was re-reading you're story 'Running On Empty', and was puzzled when you never mentioned what it was that made the screaming noise in the woods that set Sheppard and Rodney on edge...unless I missed by some chance.
Both stories are exceptionally well written, however, and I'm looking forward to reading more! :D
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Running on Empty -- it was just supposed to be some kind of wild animal. Mountain lions can "scream" like that, so I was thinking it was maybe something like that, but since it's an alien planet, it could be anything at all. I didn't even realize people were going to wonder about it! *g*
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Also, you're very welcome. :D
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I think they work well as companion pieces, neither one trumping the other.
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Very cool.
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