![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
reccea.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_flashficTitle:Until the Stars Are All Alight
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reccea
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Shit like this never happened on Middle Earth.
Notes: Thanks tosmittywing for the beta.
The trouble with P-90s, John has always thought, is that they don't glow blue when a wraith comes near. Humans have come a long way from the days when they were still fighting it out with a bodiless evil over one small continent, but they still haven't come far enough. Computers are great, but what he wouldn't give for decent hair product again.
He might have given in and followed the call of the sea if he'd known that the minute his people left the for the Grey Havens he'd look like a hedgehog.
Could be worse, of course. He's spent enough time with Ronon and Rodney to know that much. And he will give the humans one thing. His people? Never learned to fly. In that, Man has far outstripped his immortal race.
So, despite the hair, (and the high rise buildings because not only are they hideous and utilitarian but they also take up too much of a sky meant for flying) he isn't sorry at all for resisting the call to the West.
John has lost track of his age- his people measured in decades and sometimes centuries but he is so far beyond all of that now- but for someone who is supposed to die only from grief or violence, he is beginning to age. There are lines on his face he can't blame on Pegasus, and aches in his body that came long before Afghanistan or Antarctica. He doesn't mind it though, not really.
When his people wore the Rings, carved their great monuments, tended to the forests, he looked like one of them. But now he is one of the last of his kind and he has left them behind. Now his people are the ones who toil in the underbelly of an almost forgotten city, who travel out into the stars with strangers, who watch his back when things aren't going as planned.
He doesn't mind growing older because it means he looks like one of them.
The first time John saw a stargate, he looked at it, tried to cover his wince and thought, "Why is it always rings?" But he has stopped looking at them as rings, stopped seeing the shape that has dwarfed his whole life. When John walks through the ring he isn't thinking about symbolism and omens and what he can see when he trains his eyes on the water. He checks his gun, and his vest and makes sure his team is good to go.
John resisted the call to the sea because he'd lived his life in the moment and never lost track of what was right in front of him. He's still that same way, and so he doesn't think on the significance of the stargate, of the rushing sound that accompanies the opening of its eye. (It doesn't sound like gulls to anyone else, he'll wager.) He walks through with his team and keeps his focus where it belongs and keeps his yearning locked on getting back home.
That he has some place he considers home is a welcome change, as is the team-the family-that goes with it. It's surprising, really, to believe in something again, to fight for something, to have people to fight alongside. The most surprising to him is that, more than anything, it is the people he finds himself believing in.
With Teyla it is instinctive. She is beautiful in a way that is familiar and comfortable. Her fighting style brings him back to days of old and he's a little ashamed at how much of it has left him. Elizabeth reminds him of a queen he once knew, dark of hair and light of eyes who spent her last days wandering the forests in grief. Ford is young and his journey has been hard for John to bear, but it is in no way unfamiliar. Ronon is a great, strong man, like many John has known. And if John feels an empathy for Ronon's loss it's not something he's willing to admit. But, when he had the chance, John could not resist holding his hand out to help Ronon move away from a life alone, and fall into this fold. There are alike, he and Ronon, probably far too much.
But Rodney.
His friendship with Rodney is more a shock to him than anything else. Rodney reminds John of every dwarf he's ever met except in size and hair. He is smart, cunning, a little bit selfish, and also, apparently, attracted to large green gem stones. Rodney isn't brave like a dwarf but John could tell right off, just from the tone of his skin, that he'd spent his life like one. Uncovering mysteries and beauty without ever stepping out into the fresh air.
Maybe that's why John chose him for the team.
But probably not.
It was weird for John, at first, to find himself still heeding the prejudices of old. So, while he'd initially retreated from Rodney's gaze, he now makes an effort to meet Rodney's eyes, to look to him at every turn. His people had made peace with the Dwarves in the end, and John decided he could manage the same. For the most part, it isn't as difficult as he'd figured.
Rodney is funny, and brilliant, and full of life in an exhausting kind of way. He makes John feel more awake than he has in centuries. The fact that he'd been the one to introduce John to the puddlejumpers hadn't hurt. And the distance, his hands-off reserve, that all the humans he'd ever known had instinctively respected (most not ever knowing why) Rodney never seems to even notice.
Yet another mark, John has decided, in the column for dwarf.
John knows the tales, of course. There have been those of his kind who had fallen for humans, who had given themselves over. Their ancestors, descendants of the Half-Elven, are here and there in the world. And John has always been attracted to them, as a matter of course. Like calls to like. There are fewer stories of his kind among the Dwarves. And he knows of no descendants. But there are stories. That's what's important.
And unlike the tales of those who bore the Half-Elven, no story of an elf and dwarf choosing a life together has ever ended in grief and a loss of grace. No elf was ever diminished for love of a dwarf.
It doesn't mean that John isn't afraid, but it's a small fear and one that makes his heart race. One that makes him remember that without pain, joy is harder to recognize. Makes him remember that the reason humans feel such passion, are such bright flames, is because they have such a short time in which to breathe. So he takes a deep breath and reaches out for Rodney's arm. And falls into step alongside him without ever faltering.
It isn't easy. Rodney is, by leaps and bounds, the most frustrating person John has ever gotten to know. (John has tried very hard to ignore all the frustrating people he's met, and deals with them only if forced.) And John is so very used to thinking of Rodney as a dwarf that his sheer humanity has surprised John.
His ego, the search for power, is a tale older than John. And an afterthought of an apology hasn't been enough to make John forget the sting of it. Forget the mark Isildur had made upon the world. But John is older than any of his brethren had ever been and he understands, in a way his kind had never managed, that people can change.
He has changed. He wants to believe that people- that Rodney- can too.
"I'm sure you can do it, if you really want to try." A thousand years ago he wouldn't have been able to manage that. Forgiveness. He doesn't know if Rodney understands that gift he has given. He doesn't know if Rodney will really ever understand how hard and how strangely easy it has been for John to give him that chance. What he knows is that Rodney has been broken down just a little bit, that he's rebuilt himself not exactly the same and that he is trying. What John knows is that the call of the sea has no power over him when compared to the thought of Rodney's life.
Living on Atlantis, an island in the very center of an ocean, had felt to John like a first step towards the next life. That the grey spires reaching toward the sky are reminiscent in some way of the grey mists that surrounded the afterlife of his people. And every time John has almost died to save the people living in those spires, it has felt almost ironic. To come so close to heaven and then to fall.
John has grown easy with the smell of salt water, with watching the sunrise reflecting on the waves. But helping carry Rodney across the sea floor, from one jumper to the other, was the surest act of will John has ever known. And all he feels afterwards, all he will ever feel about it, is relief.
He knew then, that all of who he had once been is gone now, faded through the centuries into something else. John's true name, the life he had been meant to lead, is gone as sure as the great ring was thrown into the heart of a mountain. And Rodney's small gestures, the cracks in his facade of omnipotence, are a sign that the same is true of him.
"Meredith," Rodney's sister said and John laughed for so very many reasons. For if John had ever needed a sign, had ever required something to guide his way, then Rodney's real name is proof enough.
Rodney is surely not the person who'd borne that name. He has wrought himself into something different, and if the fires that forged him are not the same ones that had forged John, what does it matter? They have been made- not like the Orcs or the Wraith, or the other abominations that are surely to come- into something greater than they had started. And more than that, John is sure- bone deep, in his blood sure- that they remade themselves into shapes that can cleave together.
"I'm not what you think I am," he tells Rodney once, trapped and waiting for another nameless danger to pass.
"I don't know what you are," Rodney replies, amused look on his face making it clear that the 'what' has never really mattered. And John laughs, softly, and doesn't say another word about it. He'll tell Rodney, eventually, but it isn't important.
"Shit like this never happened on Middle Earth," he mutters to himself, when he's sitting in a chair, trying to bring a city to life. And Rodney brushes a hand over his as he walks by, focused on bending the technology before him to his will. And John thinks, all jokes aside, that really, nothing that had happened to him on Middle Earth was ever like this at all.
Author:
recceaPairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Shit like this never happened on Middle Earth.
Notes: Thanks to
smittywing for the beta. The trouble with P-90s, John has always thought, is that they don't glow blue when a wraith comes near. Humans have come a long way from the days when they were still fighting it out with a bodiless evil over one small continent, but they still haven't come far enough. Computers are great, but what he wouldn't give for decent hair product again.
He might have given in and followed the call of the sea if he'd known that the minute his people left the for the Grey Havens he'd look like a hedgehog.
Could be worse, of course. He's spent enough time with Ronon and Rodney to know that much. And he will give the humans one thing. His people? Never learned to fly. In that, Man has far outstripped his immortal race.
So, despite the hair, (and the high rise buildings because not only are they hideous and utilitarian but they also take up too much of a sky meant for flying) he isn't sorry at all for resisting the call to the West.
John has lost track of his age- his people measured in decades and sometimes centuries but he is so far beyond all of that now- but for someone who is supposed to die only from grief or violence, he is beginning to age. There are lines on his face he can't blame on Pegasus, and aches in his body that came long before Afghanistan or Antarctica. He doesn't mind it though, not really.
When his people wore the Rings, carved their great monuments, tended to the forests, he looked like one of them. But now he is one of the last of his kind and he has left them behind. Now his people are the ones who toil in the underbelly of an almost forgotten city, who travel out into the stars with strangers, who watch his back when things aren't going as planned.
He doesn't mind growing older because it means he looks like one of them.
The first time John saw a stargate, he looked at it, tried to cover his wince and thought, "Why is it always rings?" But he has stopped looking at them as rings, stopped seeing the shape that has dwarfed his whole life. When John walks through the ring he isn't thinking about symbolism and omens and what he can see when he trains his eyes on the water. He checks his gun, and his vest and makes sure his team is good to go.
John resisted the call to the sea because he'd lived his life in the moment and never lost track of what was right in front of him. He's still that same way, and so he doesn't think on the significance of the stargate, of the rushing sound that accompanies the opening of its eye. (It doesn't sound like gulls to anyone else, he'll wager.) He walks through with his team and keeps his focus where it belongs and keeps his yearning locked on getting back home.
That he has some place he considers home is a welcome change, as is the team-the family-that goes with it. It's surprising, really, to believe in something again, to fight for something, to have people to fight alongside. The most surprising to him is that, more than anything, it is the people he finds himself believing in.
With Teyla it is instinctive. She is beautiful in a way that is familiar and comfortable. Her fighting style brings him back to days of old and he's a little ashamed at how much of it has left him. Elizabeth reminds him of a queen he once knew, dark of hair and light of eyes who spent her last days wandering the forests in grief. Ford is young and his journey has been hard for John to bear, but it is in no way unfamiliar. Ronon is a great, strong man, like many John has known. And if John feels an empathy for Ronon's loss it's not something he's willing to admit. But, when he had the chance, John could not resist holding his hand out to help Ronon move away from a life alone, and fall into this fold. There are alike, he and Ronon, probably far too much.
But Rodney.
His friendship with Rodney is more a shock to him than anything else. Rodney reminds John of every dwarf he's ever met except in size and hair. He is smart, cunning, a little bit selfish, and also, apparently, attracted to large green gem stones. Rodney isn't brave like a dwarf but John could tell right off, just from the tone of his skin, that he'd spent his life like one. Uncovering mysteries and beauty without ever stepping out into the fresh air.
Maybe that's why John chose him for the team.
But probably not.
It was weird for John, at first, to find himself still heeding the prejudices of old. So, while he'd initially retreated from Rodney's gaze, he now makes an effort to meet Rodney's eyes, to look to him at every turn. His people had made peace with the Dwarves in the end, and John decided he could manage the same. For the most part, it isn't as difficult as he'd figured.
Rodney is funny, and brilliant, and full of life in an exhausting kind of way. He makes John feel more awake than he has in centuries. The fact that he'd been the one to introduce John to the puddlejumpers hadn't hurt. And the distance, his hands-off reserve, that all the humans he'd ever known had instinctively respected (most not ever knowing why) Rodney never seems to even notice.
Yet another mark, John has decided, in the column for dwarf.
John knows the tales, of course. There have been those of his kind who had fallen for humans, who had given themselves over. Their ancestors, descendants of the Half-Elven, are here and there in the world. And John has always been attracted to them, as a matter of course. Like calls to like. There are fewer stories of his kind among the Dwarves. And he knows of no descendants. But there are stories. That's what's important.
And unlike the tales of those who bore the Half-Elven, no story of an elf and dwarf choosing a life together has ever ended in grief and a loss of grace. No elf was ever diminished for love of a dwarf.
It doesn't mean that John isn't afraid, but it's a small fear and one that makes his heart race. One that makes him remember that without pain, joy is harder to recognize. Makes him remember that the reason humans feel such passion, are such bright flames, is because they have such a short time in which to breathe. So he takes a deep breath and reaches out for Rodney's arm. And falls into step alongside him without ever faltering.
It isn't easy. Rodney is, by leaps and bounds, the most frustrating person John has ever gotten to know. (John has tried very hard to ignore all the frustrating people he's met, and deals with them only if forced.) And John is so very used to thinking of Rodney as a dwarf that his sheer humanity has surprised John.
His ego, the search for power, is a tale older than John. And an afterthought of an apology hasn't been enough to make John forget the sting of it. Forget the mark Isildur had made upon the world. But John is older than any of his brethren had ever been and he understands, in a way his kind had never managed, that people can change.
He has changed. He wants to believe that people- that Rodney- can too.
"I'm sure you can do it, if you really want to try." A thousand years ago he wouldn't have been able to manage that. Forgiveness. He doesn't know if Rodney understands that gift he has given. He doesn't know if Rodney will really ever understand how hard and how strangely easy it has been for John to give him that chance. What he knows is that Rodney has been broken down just a little bit, that he's rebuilt himself not exactly the same and that he is trying. What John knows is that the call of the sea has no power over him when compared to the thought of Rodney's life.
Living on Atlantis, an island in the very center of an ocean, had felt to John like a first step towards the next life. That the grey spires reaching toward the sky are reminiscent in some way of the grey mists that surrounded the afterlife of his people. And every time John has almost died to save the people living in those spires, it has felt almost ironic. To come so close to heaven and then to fall.
John has grown easy with the smell of salt water, with watching the sunrise reflecting on the waves. But helping carry Rodney across the sea floor, from one jumper to the other, was the surest act of will John has ever known. And all he feels afterwards, all he will ever feel about it, is relief.
He knew then, that all of who he had once been is gone now, faded through the centuries into something else. John's true name, the life he had been meant to lead, is gone as sure as the great ring was thrown into the heart of a mountain. And Rodney's small gestures, the cracks in his facade of omnipotence, are a sign that the same is true of him.
"Meredith," Rodney's sister said and John laughed for so very many reasons. For if John had ever needed a sign, had ever required something to guide his way, then Rodney's real name is proof enough.
Rodney is surely not the person who'd borne that name. He has wrought himself into something different, and if the fires that forged him are not the same ones that had forged John, what does it matter? They have been made- not like the Orcs or the Wraith, or the other abominations that are surely to come- into something greater than they had started. And more than that, John is sure- bone deep, in his blood sure- that they remade themselves into shapes that can cleave together.
"I'm not what you think I am," he tells Rodney once, trapped and waiting for another nameless danger to pass.
"I don't know what you are," Rodney replies, amused look on his face making it clear that the 'what' has never really mattered. And John laughs, softly, and doesn't say another word about it. He'll tell Rodney, eventually, but it isn't important.
"Shit like this never happened on Middle Earth," he mutters to himself, when he's sitting in a chair, trying to bring a city to life. And Rodney brushes a hand over his as he walks by, focused on bending the technology before him to his will. And John thinks, all jokes aside, that really, nothing that had happened to him on Middle Earth was ever like this at all.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:30 am (UTC)I'm not sure I have the words to express how amazing this is. It made my chest get tight because it felt true -- John as the last, the one who makes the most of what's left, enjoying what his brethren dismissed, and more than that, the simple, quiet way that's like Tolkien for high-style, but better, incorporating John's irreverence...
And this: "I'm not what you think I am," he tells Rodney once, trapped and waiting for another nameless danger to pass.
"I don't know what you are," Rodney replies, amused look on his face making it clear that the 'what' has never really mattered. And John laughs, softly, and doesn't said another word about it. He'll tell Rodney, eventually, but it isn't important.
"Shit like this never happened on Middle Earth," he mutters to himself, when he's sitting in a chair, trying to bring a city to life. And Rodney brushes a hand over his as he walks by, focused on bending the technology before him to his will. And John thinks, all jokes aside, that really, nothing that had happened to him on Middle Earth was ever like this at all.
Lovely.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-28 05:35 am (UTC)Thank you so much for the feedback. It really made my day.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-28 04:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:41 am (UTC)Even if you did this all for the ears. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:44 am (UTC)Thank you for the feedback. I'm glad you liked the story.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:59 am (UTC)Three cheers! It doesn't seem as if it would fit, and yet it does. It does and wonderfully.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-28 05:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-28 05:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-28 05:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 06:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-28 05:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 06:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 06:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 07:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 07:33 am (UTC)I loved it.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 09:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-28 05:14 am (UTC)Thanks for the feedback!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 11:02 am (UTC)Also I'm pleased to have caught on that John is an elf from the first paragraph.*g*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 11:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 12:59 pm (UTC)I noticed two typoes -- the minute his people left the for the Grey Havens should probably be "the minute his people left from the Grey Havens" or something, and Their ancestors, descendants of the Half-Elven, be "Their descendants, of the line of the Half-Elven," as the only elves to have ancestors descended from the Half-Elven are the children of Elrond.
And I, too, love the notion of Rodney the half-dwarf or thereabouts. I love the way you slide from style to style of writing as easily as Tolkien did.
(And as great as her grief came to be, somehow I do not think that Lúthien Tinúviel was ever diminished.)
To sum up, I completely was not expecting this and you made me very, very happy with it.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:40 am (UTC)(Those were conscious choices, not typoes, but thank you fer telling me anyway.)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 01:08 pm (UTC)Just... perfect.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-28 05:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 01:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-28 05:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 04:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 04:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 05:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 07:36 pm (UTC)This just works beautifully. I love how you interpret John's standoffish character as merely a characteristic of being an Elf. I love how he thinks of Rodney, and how he realizes how much he's changed in addition to the others. This is just beautiful. Thank you.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-04 08:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-05 12:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-13 06:47 am (UTC)