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new sga story: a brief quiet moment
I appear to have written SGA fic -- how unexpected! I blame Zee, of course.
Title: A Brief Quiet Moment
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Summary: Five years in this galaxy together, and she couldn't remember seeing Rodney this peaceful ever before.
Approximately 900 words, gennish, Elizabeth and Rodney. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ficbyzee.
Read at my site or below.
*****
Elizabeth intended to go as soon as she woke up, but there were two meetings scheduled first thing, and after that several batches of paperwork that couldn't wait, so it was several hours before she reached the infirmary.
It didn't matter; the surgery had taken longer than expected -- they'd run into complications, Carson told her, but nothing serious; he would be fine, as long as he took it easy for a couple of days. Elizabeth had smiled at that, almost laughed. Rodney taking it easy: they both knew it was about as likely as pigs flying. Less likely, here where they were surrounded by everyday impossibilities.
Rodney was still out. Elizabeth sat in the chair beside his bed and paged through the latest off-world mission report from Barnes's team.
She glanced over occasionally. Five years in this galaxy together, and she couldn't remember seeing Rodney this peaceful ever before. Sedation: the secret to achieving the slightest bit of rest in Atlantis.
Not only peaceful, she thought, but old. When did Rodney get old? She saw the gray hairs, the wrinkles and aches every day in front of the mirror, but she had gotten used to ignoring it all. But it wasn't just her, apparently. She could see every year marked like five in the deep lines of Rodney's face. Maybe Atlantis was aging all of them. If so ... well, it was more than worth it. None of them would have traded this for anything else.
She was making notes in the margins of the report he started to stir. Rodney's face went from slack and peaceful to tense and agitated before her eyes. He immediately started trying to sit up, pushing weakly on the bed and his tubes. "What, what are we, I have to--" he started to mumble to himself.
"Rodney," Elizabeth said, using her firmest, strongest leader voice. "It's over. You did it."
His eyes darted towards her. "What?"
"You saved us," Elizabeth said. "Nobody died. It's okay." She reached out her hand to set on his arm and smiled at him. "You're going to have a pretty nasty scar to prove it, too, from what I hear."
She could see him processing the information, the split-second shift from panic and stress and work to relief, as he collapsed back on the bed. "Oh, Christ, Elizabeth," Rodney said.
She couldn't stop smiling. She moved her hand down to lace their fingers together; she squeezed and Rodney squeezed back. "Jones is in lock-up. Colonel Sheppard shot him in the leg after he did this to you; it stopped him long enough to let you finish."
"What, you didn't kill the jerk?" Rodney grumbled, half to himself -- and, oh, it wasn't funny, not at all, but she wanted to laugh anyway. She had wanted to kill him, wanted to be the one who shot him herself, but of course she couldn't. There were so many things Elizabeth had wanted to do over the past few years, and she hadn't done any of them. Not doing those impossible things -- that was half of what being a leader meant. She wasn't not just herself, ever; she was the commander of this mission, and the mission came first.
That's something, oddly enough, that she thought Rodney had always understood. Oddly, because Rodney was perhaps the most self-obsessed person she had ever met; he was often selfish, frequently petty, and certainly arrogant. He made an unlikely hero. And yet it was true: Rodney might hide it occasionally, but he put the mission first, he loved the city, he did what it took to protect the knowledge and the people, with everything he had.
There was a kinship between them; there was no one else Elizabeth was more grateful to have with her for all these years in a strange universe. She felt almost like kissing him.
"You need to rest, Rodney," Elizabeth said, squeezing his hand again.
"I need to get back to work is what I need to do," said Rodney. "God only knows what those idiots are getting into in the lab without me there to supervise. This whole place falls apart when I look away for two seconds--"
"Rodney," Elizabeth said, cutting him off as fast as possible. "Rest."
Rodney squinted at her in a strange half-glare. "All right, fine. If I'm going to be stuck in this bed, send Zelenka up to fill me in. And tell Carson I'm expecting decent food this time around. A hero's lunch, if you will. No crappy mystery rations. Pudding, jell-o, meat, the whole deal."
"I'll do that," Elizabeth promised. She stood up, letting go of Rodney's hand and grabbing the mission report again.
She walked back to her office in a slow, thoughtful reverie, but halfway there an urgent summons came over her radio, and she shook it off and strode quickly to the gateroom.
Title: A Brief Quiet Moment
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Summary: Five years in this galaxy together, and she couldn't remember seeing Rodney this peaceful ever before.
Approximately 900 words, gennish, Elizabeth and Rodney. For
ficbyzee.Read at my site or below.
*****
Elizabeth intended to go as soon as she woke up, but there were two meetings scheduled first thing, and after that several batches of paperwork that couldn't wait, so it was several hours before she reached the infirmary.
It didn't matter; the surgery had taken longer than expected -- they'd run into complications, Carson told her, but nothing serious; he would be fine, as long as he took it easy for a couple of days. Elizabeth had smiled at that, almost laughed. Rodney taking it easy: they both knew it was about as likely as pigs flying. Less likely, here where they were surrounded by everyday impossibilities.
Rodney was still out. Elizabeth sat in the chair beside his bed and paged through the latest off-world mission report from Barnes's team.
She glanced over occasionally. Five years in this galaxy together, and she couldn't remember seeing Rodney this peaceful ever before. Sedation: the secret to achieving the slightest bit of rest in Atlantis.
Not only peaceful, she thought, but old. When did Rodney get old? She saw the gray hairs, the wrinkles and aches every day in front of the mirror, but she had gotten used to ignoring it all. But it wasn't just her, apparently. She could see every year marked like five in the deep lines of Rodney's face. Maybe Atlantis was aging all of them. If so ... well, it was more than worth it. None of them would have traded this for anything else.
She was making notes in the margins of the report he started to stir. Rodney's face went from slack and peaceful to tense and agitated before her eyes. He immediately started trying to sit up, pushing weakly on the bed and his tubes. "What, what are we, I have to--" he started to mumble to himself.
"Rodney," Elizabeth said, using her firmest, strongest leader voice. "It's over. You did it."
His eyes darted towards her. "What?"
"You saved us," Elizabeth said. "Nobody died. It's okay." She reached out her hand to set on his arm and smiled at him. "You're going to have a pretty nasty scar to prove it, too, from what I hear."
She could see him processing the information, the split-second shift from panic and stress and work to relief, as he collapsed back on the bed. "Oh, Christ, Elizabeth," Rodney said.
She couldn't stop smiling. She moved her hand down to lace their fingers together; she squeezed and Rodney squeezed back. "Jones is in lock-up. Colonel Sheppard shot him in the leg after he did this to you; it stopped him long enough to let you finish."
"What, you didn't kill the jerk?" Rodney grumbled, half to himself -- and, oh, it wasn't funny, not at all, but she wanted to laugh anyway. She had wanted to kill him, wanted to be the one who shot him herself, but of course she couldn't. There were so many things Elizabeth had wanted to do over the past few years, and she hadn't done any of them. Not doing those impossible things -- that was half of what being a leader meant. She wasn't not just herself, ever; she was the commander of this mission, and the mission came first.
That's something, oddly enough, that she thought Rodney had always understood. Oddly, because Rodney was perhaps the most self-obsessed person she had ever met; he was often selfish, frequently petty, and certainly arrogant. He made an unlikely hero. And yet it was true: Rodney might hide it occasionally, but he put the mission first, he loved the city, he did what it took to protect the knowledge and the people, with everything he had.
There was a kinship between them; there was no one else Elizabeth was more grateful to have with her for all these years in a strange universe. She felt almost like kissing him.
"You need to rest, Rodney," Elizabeth said, squeezing his hand again.
"I need to get back to work is what I need to do," said Rodney. "God only knows what those idiots are getting into in the lab without me there to supervise. This whole place falls apart when I look away for two seconds--"
"Rodney," Elizabeth said, cutting him off as fast as possible. "Rest."
Rodney squinted at her in a strange half-glare. "All right, fine. If I'm going to be stuck in this bed, send Zelenka up to fill me in. And tell Carson I'm expecting decent food this time around. A hero's lunch, if you will. No crappy mystery rations. Pudding, jell-o, meat, the whole deal."
"I'll do that," Elizabeth promised. She stood up, letting go of Rodney's hand and grabbing the mission report again.
She walked back to her office in a slow, thoughtful reverie, but halfway there an urgent summons came over her radio, and she shook it off and strode quickly to the gateroom.