Attendant by hg (Post Secret)
Feb. 12th, 2006 07:57 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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aithine told me she was going to make a couple of postcards for it. I offered to write a story to go with one of them, her choice. So, this story goes with the first postcard she made, which can be found over here.
Link
No warnings, no spoilers, just
Attendant
I like to watch. No; I like to watch him. The funny thing is, nobody has really noticed. I know they've seen me watching him, but they never really looked, if you know what I mean. Maybe nobody watches me the way I watch him. Or maybe they just don't want to know.
Sometimes, when I've watched him, I've seen him looking. I've seen him glancing and cataloging and rostering, but never watching. He's never watched anyone. Oh, he's watched things, and numbers, and time; he always watched the time as if it might be his last moment. But he's never watched people. I think the only time he ever really looked at me was in Antarctica, when I sat in that chair. Even then, though, he wasn't seeing me, he was seeing … watching … what I could do.
That's not to say I haven't watched what he can do. I remember watching him before Beckett gave him the gene therapy. He was determined to make up in tenacity what he didn't have in genetics. I think that's when I really started to watch.
Then there was the time with that damned bug. They all think my memory of that jumper ride is spotty. Beckett claims dying will do that to a person. But I remember enough. I remember watching him as he sat there, backlit by the glow of the event horizon. I remember how he tried so hard to save me, to save us all. And I remember the look on his face when I yelled at him. I watched him try to close himself off; I watched him struggle to save us even though he thought we were all going to die no matter what he did. Later, I watched him realize we'd all survived this time, but I could see he didn't believe it would always be that way.
I watched him even more after those first days in Atlantis. I watched him fight with Kavanagh, and I watched him learn to respect Zelenka. Hell, I even watched him learn Zelenka's name. I watched him start to believe that we just might make it after all. Then, I watched him almost break over Dumais, and Abrams and Gaul. But he didn't. I watched him become stronger instead, and I decided that it was time to stop watching, before I broke.
I tried to watch other people, before. I tried to watch Elizabeth, and Teyla; sometimes I even tried to watch Ford. But it never worked. People think I watched Chaya. But the whole time I was looking at her, I was watching Rodney. That's when I knew I couldn't stop watching, and that I was already broken.
After Chaya, I thought maybe I could tell him. I tried to imagine stealing a minute to tell him how long I'd been watching him. I hoped I was wrong, and that he would tell me that he'd been watching me back. But then Dagan happened, and we lost the ZPM, and we came back to Atlantis to find out the Wraith were coming, and I just couldn't imagine anymore.
I remember sitting in the command chair, watching him try to get the puddle jumper to fly under remote control. I remember watching him, and thinking that I would never be able to tell him now. I remember saying "So long, Rodney" and rushing off, thinking I'd never get to watch him again. I remember suddenly not being dead. And I remember how everyone watched me when I got back to Atlantis. And I remember realizing I was still too afraid to imagine.
Something strange happened, though. Now that everything has calmed down, and the shield worked, and the cloak works, and the Wraith think we're gone, I found myself watching him again. But this time, somebody noticed.
Dr. Zelenka came to my quarters tonight. He let himself in, leaned on the corner of my desk and looked me right in the eye. And then he told me. He told me that the whole time I was flying my jumper to the hive ship, Rodney watched. Rodney watched that blue dot on the screen as if it was me. And Zelenka said he'd never seen a look like that on Rodney's face before, but he had seen it on mine. Then he told me that if I didn't do something about it, I was a bigger coward than Rodney ever thought he was.
So, now, I'm waiting for Rodney's door to open. I'm waiting to watch his face when I tell him my secret. And I'm not imagining anything, but I think I might be hoping a bit. And I'm hoping a bit more when I see the look in his eyes as the door opens; Rodney's eyes are watching me.
"Rodney, there's something I have to tell you."
aithine told me she was going to make a couple of postcards for it. I offered to write a story to go with one of them, her choice. So, this story goes with the first postcard she made, which can be found over here.Link
No warnings, no spoilers, just
Attendant
I like to watch. No; I like to watch him. The funny thing is, nobody has really noticed. I know they've seen me watching him, but they never really looked, if you know what I mean. Maybe nobody watches me the way I watch him. Or maybe they just don't want to know.
Sometimes, when I've watched him, I've seen him looking. I've seen him glancing and cataloging and rostering, but never watching. He's never watched anyone. Oh, he's watched things, and numbers, and time; he always watched the time as if it might be his last moment. But he's never watched people. I think the only time he ever really looked at me was in Antarctica, when I sat in that chair. Even then, though, he wasn't seeing me, he was seeing … watching … what I could do.
That's not to say I haven't watched what he can do. I remember watching him before Beckett gave him the gene therapy. He was determined to make up in tenacity what he didn't have in genetics. I think that's when I really started to watch.
Then there was the time with that damned bug. They all think my memory of that jumper ride is spotty. Beckett claims dying will do that to a person. But I remember enough. I remember watching him as he sat there, backlit by the glow of the event horizon. I remember how he tried so hard to save me, to save us all. And I remember the look on his face when I yelled at him. I watched him try to close himself off; I watched him struggle to save us even though he thought we were all going to die no matter what he did. Later, I watched him realize we'd all survived this time, but I could see he didn't believe it would always be that way.
I watched him even more after those first days in Atlantis. I watched him fight with Kavanagh, and I watched him learn to respect Zelenka. Hell, I even watched him learn Zelenka's name. I watched him start to believe that we just might make it after all. Then, I watched him almost break over Dumais, and Abrams and Gaul. But he didn't. I watched him become stronger instead, and I decided that it was time to stop watching, before I broke.
I tried to watch other people, before. I tried to watch Elizabeth, and Teyla; sometimes I even tried to watch Ford. But it never worked. People think I watched Chaya. But the whole time I was looking at her, I was watching Rodney. That's when I knew I couldn't stop watching, and that I was already broken.
After Chaya, I thought maybe I could tell him. I tried to imagine stealing a minute to tell him how long I'd been watching him. I hoped I was wrong, and that he would tell me that he'd been watching me back. But then Dagan happened, and we lost the ZPM, and we came back to Atlantis to find out the Wraith were coming, and I just couldn't imagine anymore.
I remember sitting in the command chair, watching him try to get the puddle jumper to fly under remote control. I remember watching him, and thinking that I would never be able to tell him now. I remember saying "So long, Rodney" and rushing off, thinking I'd never get to watch him again. I remember suddenly not being dead. And I remember how everyone watched me when I got back to Atlantis. And I remember realizing I was still too afraid to imagine.
Something strange happened, though. Now that everything has calmed down, and the shield worked, and the cloak works, and the Wraith think we're gone, I found myself watching him again. But this time, somebody noticed.
Dr. Zelenka came to my quarters tonight. He let himself in, leaned on the corner of my desk and looked me right in the eye. And then he told me. He told me that the whole time I was flying my jumper to the hive ship, Rodney watched. Rodney watched that blue dot on the screen as if it was me. And Zelenka said he'd never seen a look like that on Rodney's face before, but he had seen it on mine. Then he told me that if I didn't do something about it, I was a bigger coward than Rodney ever thought he was.
So, now, I'm waiting for Rodney's door to open. I'm waiting to watch his face when I tell him my secret. And I'm not imagining anything, but I think I might be hoping a bit. And I'm hoping a bit more when I see the look in his eyes as the door opens; Rodney's eyes are watching me.
"Rodney, there's something I have to tell you."
