It's Always Darkest Before The Rising Of The Sun
Title: It's Always Darkest Before The Rising Of The Sun
Author/Artist: Garneteve
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Rising
Table: Written for the mcbeckchallenge Prompt Table
Prompt: #1 Rising
Summary: Rodney's dark moment before the "Rising" episode, and why Carson doesn't want Rodney to put him in the chair.
In the quiet, gentle calming atmosphere, and soft white lights instead of the harsh fluorescent they were during working hours, Carson found himself walking the halls of the Ancient Outpost.
As he was walking through the corridors, he heard a low voice echoing through the still hallways.
He followed the direction of the sound and eventually came to the room that The Chair was in.
Out of some sort of dream. Black metal, blue glass. A marvel. A long forgotten memory of generations past. Carson marveled at the chair, the technological piece of near artificial intelligence. Calling to those who were of it's descendants, to whatever power was within, remembering cell deep, living through the DNA of ancestors passed down, seemingly by random, through the generations.
Carson reached the wide decorated doorway and looked carefully around the corner, wanting to know whose voice he could hear before making himself known.
Carson knew he had the particular gene that operated the Ancient technology that was around him. He could feel a constant barely there hum in the base of his skull, but tests and scans had found no anomalies, apart from the gene he already knew he had.
He'd always tested himself, always used himself as a guinea pig, taking his own blood, own skin cells, own saliva if it would help his research and study. He'd look at the minuscule parts of himself before looking for other sources to study.
All Carson could see, as he peered in the room, was a pair of khaki coloured trousers and brown shoes.
But he knew that voice now he could hear it clearly.
Come on, why don't you work for me.
There was a pause and a slight scuffle. Carson saw the legs stand up, the orange fleece jacket was a harsh contrast against the soft blue light of the room, reflecting off the skin of the man's temples, shadowing his eyelashes and making the blue eyes even clearer.
A thump made Carson jump, seeing Rodney kick the chair. why won't you work you piece of ancient junk! And you're not helping me by not working either.”
Carson didn't move, instead, watching his friend's arms waving in anger.
Rodney sat down with a huff back in the chair, his head in his hands.
Carson wanted to step in and console the man, confirming that he didn't need the gene to be worth something, even to Carson. His heart wanted him to go forward. His mind held him back. He risked Rodney turning his back, yelling in his face, loud and pink, spittle flying, then turning on his heel and storming off.
He couldn't intrude. He felt like a stranger looking in to something forbidden, something raw and angry that was never made to be seen. He felt protective, wanting to give Rodney his own gene. He wanted to rip it out of himself and pass it to Rodney as if it were a vital organ, ignoring the bleeding, gaping hole of his gift in himself. He'd see Rodney's eyes widen, raising his hands to take the offering. Rodney would hold it carefully, reverently, before placing it in his own body.
But it wasn't a separate thing. It was part of him, ingrained at the cellular level. Carson had something Rodney openly coveted. And it made him ache all the more for it.
Carson frowned as he heard Rodney begin talking again, words almost too low to hear, but the tone in which he was talking was harsh, self hating almost. It went on, Carson keeping watch, keeping quietly out of sight.
As Carson heard Rodney quieten into heavy sobs, he knew that he'd never let Rodney know that he'd heard everything that just happened. Every murmur, every kick against the ancient tech, every curse, every cry of anguish over not being able to persuade the tech to do his bidding.
Rodney didn't need Carson's pity at this moment, Carson knew all too well, that if he walked in, he risked Rodney closing up.
Quietly, Carson retraced his steps back to the elevator, his thoughts never leaving the man in the Chair room alone again.
Author/Artist: Garneteve
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Rising
Table: Written for the mcbeckchallenge Prompt Table
Prompt: #1 Rising
Summary: Rodney's dark moment before the "Rising" episode, and why Carson doesn't want Rodney to put him in the chair.
In the quiet, gentle calming atmosphere, and soft white lights instead of the harsh fluorescent they were during working hours, Carson found himself walking the halls of the Ancient Outpost.
As he was walking through the corridors, he heard a low voice echoing through the still hallways.
He followed the direction of the sound and eventually came to the room that The Chair was in.
Out of some sort of dream. Black metal, blue glass. A marvel. A long forgotten memory of generations past. Carson marveled at the chair, the technological piece of near artificial intelligence. Calling to those who were of it's descendants, to whatever power was within, remembering cell deep, living through the DNA of ancestors passed down, seemingly by random, through the generations.
Carson reached the wide decorated doorway and looked carefully around the corner, wanting to know whose voice he could hear before making himself known.
Carson knew he had the particular gene that operated the Ancient technology that was around him. He could feel a constant barely there hum in the base of his skull, but tests and scans had found no anomalies, apart from the gene he already knew he had.
He'd always tested himself, always used himself as a guinea pig, taking his own blood, own skin cells, own saliva if it would help his research and study. He'd look at the minuscule parts of himself before looking for other sources to study.
All Carson could see, as he peered in the room, was a pair of khaki coloured trousers and brown shoes.
But he knew that voice now he could hear it clearly.
Come on, why don't you work for me.
There was a pause and a slight scuffle. Carson saw the legs stand up, the orange fleece jacket was a harsh contrast against the soft blue light of the room, reflecting off the skin of the man's temples, shadowing his eyelashes and making the blue eyes even clearer.
A thump made Carson jump, seeing Rodney kick the chair. why won't you work you piece of ancient junk! And you're not helping me by not working either.”
Carson didn't move, instead, watching his friend's arms waving in anger.
Rodney sat down with a huff back in the chair, his head in his hands.
Carson wanted to step in and console the man, confirming that he didn't need the gene to be worth something, even to Carson. His heart wanted him to go forward. His mind held him back. He risked Rodney turning his back, yelling in his face, loud and pink, spittle flying, then turning on his heel and storming off.
He couldn't intrude. He felt like a stranger looking in to something forbidden, something raw and angry that was never made to be seen. He felt protective, wanting to give Rodney his own gene. He wanted to rip it out of himself and pass it to Rodney as if it were a vital organ, ignoring the bleeding, gaping hole of his gift in himself. He'd see Rodney's eyes widen, raising his hands to take the offering. Rodney would hold it carefully, reverently, before placing it in his own body.
But it wasn't a separate thing. It was part of him, ingrained at the cellular level. Carson had something Rodney openly coveted. And it made him ache all the more for it.
Carson frowned as he heard Rodney begin talking again, words almost too low to hear, but the tone in which he was talking was harsh, self hating almost. It went on, Carson keeping watch, keeping quietly out of sight.
As Carson heard Rodney quieten into heavy sobs, he knew that he'd never let Rodney know that he'd heard everything that just happened. Every murmur, every kick against the ancient tech, every curse, every cry of anguish over not being able to persuade the tech to do his bidding.
Rodney didn't need Carson's pity at this moment, Carson knew all too well, that if he walked in, he risked Rodney closing up.
Quietly, Carson retraced his steps back to the elevator, his thoughts never leaving the man in the Chair room alone again.