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sga_flashficTitle: The Day Rodney McKay Dies (ways to die challenge)
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unadrift
Pairing: John/Rodney
Warnings: Other than the obvious, none.
Words: ~850
A/N: I wrote this in one go, which is -- not very me. It's not beta'd.
Rodney is starting to break a sweat.
There are a lot of floors on Atlantis, he's never quite realized that. The transporters make it easy to forget. He can't use a transporter now, though. That would be monumentally stupid, considering the unstable bomb tucked under his arm. And Rodney would hate to be remembered as anything less than the brilliant genius that he is.
The bomb ticks away the seconds - not seconds, really, but similarly small slices of time - with low, almost inaudible sounds. Rodney imagines he can feel them vibrating in his bones. People keep jumping out of his way, their angry shouts follow him up the stairs. For all they know he's probably carrying around an ancient toaster, or particle accelerator, or whatever.
It's a strange device, Rodney has never seen anything like it. While he is usually all for informed experimentation, in this case that option seems a bit risky. Disarming the bomb is out of question, has been from the moment he's found the thing attached to the naqadah generator on the lowest level.
Atlantis, the great city of the ancestors, blasted to pieces by a bunch of kids? That would be the joke of the century in the Pegasus galaxy, a story for Teyla's people to tell their grandchildren.
The kids, apparently all attendants of the Genii school for treachery and warfare, assembled the bomb from pieces they'd smuggled into the city with what little they claimed to possess. Poor, poor teenagers, four boys and two girls, had lost their parents to the Wraith. Lorne brought them in. Elizabeth was understanding, in an unnerving motherly way, Teyla was her usual caring self, Heightmeyer stayed at their side for twenty hours straight, and it wasn't long before John dug up his Hail-Mary dvd.
The kids' wide eyes were fixed on John as he tried to demonstrate the miracle of the catch to them, or maybe the miracle that was football in general. Rodney didn't know, because he was busy just watching John, who hadn't noticed him coming in. Kids were unbelievably frustrating and an overall nuisance. But watching John with kids, that was an entirely different thing. When his smile threatened to emerge, Rodney left quietly. He'd forgotten why he'd stopped by anyway.
Rodney adds drama class to the imaginary timetable of the Genii school for treachery and warfare, because those kids are damn near perfect actors. They had everyone, really everyone in Atlantis fooled. In hindsight, a rationally thinking person might have spotted the signs. Rodney wants to kick himself for avoiding the kids like the plague. He wouldn't have been fooled by their general adorability, big eyes and crocodile tears.
The surface is still more levels up than Rodney wants to think about. His sides start to hurt, but he tackles yet another flight of stairs.
"They lost their parents, Rodney," John used to say with a firm voice, whenever Rodney bitched about how the kids got all the attention. Well, Rodney didn't exactly phrase it that way, because that would have been petulant. John knew how he meant it anyway.
He usually kissed Rodney then, smiled that warm smile of his, the one that made Rodney's heart melt the way cute little children couldn't. Then John left for a game of monopoly, cards, or twister, or whatever the kids' choice was that day.
Strangely, Rodney loved him even more for that.
It occurs to Rodney that he needn't have carried the bomb himself. One of the grunts could have done it, and probably faster. On the other hand, it's given him the opportunity to study the timer with quick in-between-running glances. Rodney calculates they have about five minutes left.
"I'm ready, Rodney. Where are you?" John's voice sounds nervous over the radio. John is never nervous.
"Almost there," Rodney manages to answer with the little breath he has left and runs out into the sunlight. The jumper hovers over the water close to the balcony. John waits on the lowered ramp.
"Throw it." John beckons with open hands.
Rodney weighs the bomb in his palms, hesitating. "I'm not very good at that."
"I'm good at catching," John promises.
When John carefully sets down the bomb inside the jumper and gives Rodney a thumbs-up, it's their own Hail-Mary. The jumper accelerates before John is even in the pilot's seat.
The radio crackles in Rodney's ear. "They're just kids. I can't believe they... " John's voice trails off.
"I know," is all Rodney can think of as an answer.
"How much time left?"
"About three minutes. Remember, a mile should be enough. Just drop it and return as fast as you can."
"Got that," John answers. "See you soon."
It isn't even twenty seconds later when the jumper is blown apart.
Rodney watches numbly, disbelievingly. He is vaguely aware of Elizabeth's voice in his ear, people shouting behind his back.
The burning debris hits the water and sinks. The smoke swirls, rises, and lightens eventually.
Rodney is frozen, body and soul, as if he is the one sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
- end -
Author:
unadriftPairing: John/Rodney
Warnings: Other than the obvious, none.
Words: ~850
A/N: I wrote this in one go, which is -- not very me. It's not beta'd.
Rodney is starting to break a sweat.
There are a lot of floors on Atlantis, he's never quite realized that. The transporters make it easy to forget. He can't use a transporter now, though. That would be monumentally stupid, considering the unstable bomb tucked under his arm. And Rodney would hate to be remembered as anything less than the brilliant genius that he is.
The bomb ticks away the seconds - not seconds, really, but similarly small slices of time - with low, almost inaudible sounds. Rodney imagines he can feel them vibrating in his bones. People keep jumping out of his way, their angry shouts follow him up the stairs. For all they know he's probably carrying around an ancient toaster, or particle accelerator, or whatever.
It's a strange device, Rodney has never seen anything like it. While he is usually all for informed experimentation, in this case that option seems a bit risky. Disarming the bomb is out of question, has been from the moment he's found the thing attached to the naqadah generator on the lowest level.
Atlantis, the great city of the ancestors, blasted to pieces by a bunch of kids? That would be the joke of the century in the Pegasus galaxy, a story for Teyla's people to tell their grandchildren.
The kids, apparently all attendants of the Genii school for treachery and warfare, assembled the bomb from pieces they'd smuggled into the city with what little they claimed to possess. Poor, poor teenagers, four boys and two girls, had lost their parents to the Wraith. Lorne brought them in. Elizabeth was understanding, in an unnerving motherly way, Teyla was her usual caring self, Heightmeyer stayed at their side for twenty hours straight, and it wasn't long before John dug up his Hail-Mary dvd.
The kids' wide eyes were fixed on John as he tried to demonstrate the miracle of the catch to them, or maybe the miracle that was football in general. Rodney didn't know, because he was busy just watching John, who hadn't noticed him coming in. Kids were unbelievably frustrating and an overall nuisance. But watching John with kids, that was an entirely different thing. When his smile threatened to emerge, Rodney left quietly. He'd forgotten why he'd stopped by anyway.
Rodney adds drama class to the imaginary timetable of the Genii school for treachery and warfare, because those kids are damn near perfect actors. They had everyone, really everyone in Atlantis fooled. In hindsight, a rationally thinking person might have spotted the signs. Rodney wants to kick himself for avoiding the kids like the plague. He wouldn't have been fooled by their general adorability, big eyes and crocodile tears.
The surface is still more levels up than Rodney wants to think about. His sides start to hurt, but he tackles yet another flight of stairs.
"They lost their parents, Rodney," John used to say with a firm voice, whenever Rodney bitched about how the kids got all the attention. Well, Rodney didn't exactly phrase it that way, because that would have been petulant. John knew how he meant it anyway.
He usually kissed Rodney then, smiled that warm smile of his, the one that made Rodney's heart melt the way cute little children couldn't. Then John left for a game of monopoly, cards, or twister, or whatever the kids' choice was that day.
Strangely, Rodney loved him even more for that.
It occurs to Rodney that he needn't have carried the bomb himself. One of the grunts could have done it, and probably faster. On the other hand, it's given him the opportunity to study the timer with quick in-between-running glances. Rodney calculates they have about five minutes left.
"I'm ready, Rodney. Where are you?" John's voice sounds nervous over the radio. John is never nervous.
"Almost there," Rodney manages to answer with the little breath he has left and runs out into the sunlight. The jumper hovers over the water close to the balcony. John waits on the lowered ramp.
"Throw it." John beckons with open hands.
Rodney weighs the bomb in his palms, hesitating. "I'm not very good at that."
"I'm good at catching," John promises.
When John carefully sets down the bomb inside the jumper and gives Rodney a thumbs-up, it's their own Hail-Mary. The jumper accelerates before John is even in the pilot's seat.
The radio crackles in Rodney's ear. "They're just kids. I can't believe they... " John's voice trails off.
"I know," is all Rodney can think of as an answer.
"How much time left?"
"About three minutes. Remember, a mile should be enough. Just drop it and return as fast as you can."
"Got that," John answers. "See you soon."
It isn't even twenty seconds later when the jumper is blown apart.
Rodney watches numbly, disbelievingly. He is vaguely aware of Elizabeth's voice in his ear, people shouting behind his back.
The burning debris hits the water and sinks. The smoke swirls, rises, and lightens eventually.
Rodney is frozen, body and soul, as if he is the one sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
- end -
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-16 08:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2007-11-17 05:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2007-11-17 08:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-17 03:45 pm (UTC)Very well done, but... *whimper*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-17 05:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-18 08:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-18 07:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-18 07:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-18 07:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-18 11:37 pm (UTC)*checks calender morosely*
Great story, even though character death keeps me up at night.(I guess I'm into selfwhump).
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-19 07:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-19 08:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-19 08:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-20 04:46 am (UTC)*clutches heart*
Gänsehaut
Date: 2007-11-20 09:18 am (UTC)..gefällt mir. Aber mußte er denn wirklich sterben. Gemein. Auch wenn ich die Akteure nicht so gut kenne fand ich die Geschichte genial.
Ich mußte sie aber erst zweimal lesen, du weißt ja meine Englischkenntnisse sind nicht so gut.
Aber echt klasse!!!
Deine erste Geschichte mit Sam und McKay fand ich auch sehr gut, du hast es einfach drauf deinen Leser einen berührenden Seufzer und ein trauriges aber auch schönes Lächeln zu entreißen!(zumindest bei mir!!..und ich schließe da auch mal auf andere (siehe deine anderen Kommentare!)
Danke dafür!
P.S. ..und nächstes Mal gibst du im die drei Minuten!!!!!!! Man bist du fies!!! :-)))
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-20 04:41 pm (UTC)Danke! *freu* Dein Urteil bedeutet mir sehr viel! Und ich kann gerade nur grinsen und mich freuen...
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-20 04:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-23 05:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-23 08:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-24 12:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-07 09:48 pm (UTC)The little scene where Rodney was petulant and John smiled his warm smile was gorgeous.
Poor boys.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-07 10:31 pm (UTC)