Broken, Part I
okay, since there were issues about me only posting small snippets, i have since consolidated my "bits" into a larger piece. there is quite a portion of new stuff, but for anyone who read my previous posts, the beginning is a repeat.
Title: Broken (1/?)
Pairings: Rodney/River, Weir/Sheppard
Rating: PG (there might be cussing, i can't remember)
Plot: What is Rodney to do with a waif who thinks she knows more than he does?
“Don’t touch that,” Rodney snapped. He’d been watching her, out of the corner of his eye, the entire time she wandered around the lab. He could tell it was only a matter of time before she touched things.
The girl’s eyes widened, like a rabbit in headlights, and she jerked her hand back from the glittering panel.
“That is very important and complicated equipment. You wouldn’t understand,” he said, and turned his attention back to re-wiring a hydraulic door motor.
Then suddenly she was right there, staring again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Can I help you?” He put down the motor. “Or are you just here to annoy me? Because you’re doing a damn good job of it...” his rant, becoming more heated, and now including the brandishing of a miniature soldering iron, was interrupted.
“River.”
That doctor. Her brother. He hovered around her like she hovered around everyone and everything else. Must be a family trait.
He took her by the shoulders, and looked at Rodney, iron still in hand, poised for the down-cut.
“I’d appreciate if you leave my sister alone,” he said, as though Rodney were a five-year old child. And turned and guided her towards the doors.
“Me? Leave her...?” He tossed the iron onto the table. “She was the...” His sentences unfinished, it was only his indignant look which followed the doctor out of the room.
* * *
Simon stood in the doorway, leaning on the jamb. As he stood there in silence, a slow smile spread across his face. He nearly stopped himself in what has become a wholly unfamiliar expression. It’s been so long since he smiled. He watched his sister, the quiet genius, work quietly across the lab table from Dr. McKay. It seemed they had argued (and by “they”, Simon meant Dr. McKay had yelled, and River had ignored him) only this morning, mere hours ago. Finding them in this perfect silence was a gem, and he did not wish to disturb them. He uncrossed his arms and ducked into the shadows and out into the hallway, the smile still on his face. He even allowed himself a small laugh.
Inside the lab, River smiled. She knew he stood there, and heard him laugh, ever so softly, as he tried to leave quietly. She giggled.
“Something you care to share with the class?” Rodney asked, not looking up from his worktable where he was working on trying to figure out how to utilize, in theory, one of the smaller ancient devices in another “infirmary” of the un-lived sector of Atlantis.
“Simon thinks we’re sweet.”
This time, he did look up, and raised an eyebrow. “Sweet?” he said, the molasses tone of sarcasm ever-present in his voice.
“Yes. Sweet,” she said, and looked down at her console. “Done.”
“Done? With what?”
“This.”
He made a tsking sound, and came around to the other side.
“You can’t be done with this,” he said, and shoved her lightly to the side as his fingers ran over the screen. His brow furrowed as he examined her figures, her schematics. “This can’t really work, you know. This isn’t Star Trek,” he said condescendingly.
“But you make shit up all the time.”
Rodney turned on her, and was about to yell something about how he, in fact, never “made shit up”, but she was humming. And began to sing to herself softly “bounce a graviton particle beam off the main deflector dish”, and Rodney held up a hand to stop her, his eyes closed. He took a deep breath. He exhaled loudly, opening his eyes. “It can’t work because you are assuming that we’re going to give your little ship a zed-pm that we don’t have.”
“We’ll make one.”
“Make one?!”
“From the dead ones.”
“The...” He closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Dead ones?”
“They’re all over the place.”
“There are no zed-pms on Atlantis that I do not know about.”
“Yes, there are. They’re hiding. Playing quiet. Playing dead.”
“You’re insane,” he said, and walked back around the lab table to sit back at his console and ignore her.
She just stood there, looking at him.
“Not crazy. Broken.”
* * *
“So River thinks that there are ZPMs hidden somewhere in Atlantis?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?” Rodney looked at Weir with a puppy-dog look on his face, pleading with her to not make so much emphasis of this skimpy girl and her crazy theories.
“Well does she know where they are?”
“Elizabeth, if I knew that, don’t you think I would have burst in here all crazy-like and said ‘Elizabeth! ZedPMs!’”
She smiled. “Can you get her to tell you where they are?”
“I don’t think she knows.”
“Wait, you just said she knows they’re here.”
“Yes, thinks she knows they’re here. Somewhere,” he paused. “If you hadn’t noticed, she’s a few sandwiches short upstairs,” he muttered, making the crazy sign with his right hand. He looked back at Elizabeth. “Not everything she says is useful, nor does most of it make sense.”
“Rodney,” Elizabeth said in her warning tone.
“It’s true! She’s nutty! That isn’t my fault,” he said hands on his chest in an indignant, Fame sort of way.
“Well you could do a better job making her feel at home here. You’ve been very standoffish with our guests. Which,” she looked at him directly, making him look away, “might I add, are here thanks to you.”
Rodney sighed. “Thanks, as if I wasn’t acutely aware,” he said softly, still not looking at her.
“They consider it a god-sent of some kind. Still not quite sure what they’re running from, but I do get the impression that here is better than there. So I imagine they’d thank you for it.” She paused. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. They’re here for an undetermined amount of time. We’re treating them like refugees. Refugees who can help us. And you are not cooperating.”
“Elizabeth, she touches everything. She’s always in my space,” he rose from his chair and threw his hands up in the air.
“You’ve got to learn to share, Rodney. Or are you just jealous we’ve got another genius amongst us?” she smiled.
“Hardly,” he deadpanned.
“Hardly jealous? I doubt that very much.”
“No, hardly that she’s a genius. So she can work a computer. So can monkeys. And you don’t see me running out to congratulate them.”
“Sit down, Rodney,” she said, and he complied. “I just feel like these people have a lot to offer us, and that you are making that difficult for certain of them.”
“Tell her to go bother Radek.”
She smiled again. “She seems to like you.”
Rodney grimaced. “Oh dear god, no.”
“Is it that hard to believe that someone could enjoy your company?”
He paused. “Well,” he looked down for a moment. “Yes, actually.”
For a moment, a smile crept onto Elizabeth’s face. Coming face to face with one’s own demons was always hard. More so for someone like Rodney.
“Being in the company of someone smarter than you, like myself, can be very,” he waved his hand in the air, looking for a word, “awkward. No one likes it very much,” he admitted.
She raised an eyebrow at him, and tilted her head, in that ‘oh really?’ tone of body language.
“Oh oh! No, you know I don’t mean you personally, I mean you in an...abstract. way.” he said, trailing off. He pressed his lips together as though to button them shut.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “All I’m saying Rodney, is that until some solution is reached, we will have to arrange ourselves accordingly. And I seem to remember someone saying that two heads were better than one.”
“And too many cooks spoil the broth,” he added, before buttoning his lips again in the face of Elizabeth’s gaze.
“Do we have an agreement?”
“Did we reach an agreement? I don’t remember agreeing to anything,” he said, his voice considerably more meek than when he first entered the office.
“We came here to learn from other peoples, other cultures, other worlds. Did you forget that?” He did not respond. “And these people are all of the above. I expect that in the future, you will treat them with respect, not only as our guests, but as people we can learn from. Do we understand each other?”
“Loud and clear,” he muttered, and got up from the desk. “May I?” he gestured to the door, and she nodded.
He left, his head down, and walked quickly towards the labs, as though on important business, passing John Sheppard on the way. Sheppard walked into Elizabeth’s office, and the door closed behind him.
“Ooh, looks like Rodney got yelled at,” he said, in a smarmy schoolboy sort of voice.
Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled. “Just reminding him to play nice with others,” she said, as John made himself at home, putting his feet up on her desk.
“Playing nice, eh? I’ll tell you Elizabeth, there’s no need to lecture me on playing nice,” he began.
She had returned to her paperwork, but her voice still carried to his ear. “John Sheppard, if I hear anything about you playing nice with our guests, I will confine you to quarters,” she looked up. “Is that clear?”
He grinned. “Aw, you ruin all my fun.”
“Mmm,” she said, and he winked at her before swinging his legs off the desk and making for the door.
comments and criticisms welcome.
Title: Broken (1/?)
Pairings: Rodney/River, Weir/Sheppard
Rating: PG (there might be cussing, i can't remember)
Plot: What is Rodney to do with a waif who thinks she knows more than he does?
“Don’t touch that,” Rodney snapped. He’d been watching her, out of the corner of his eye, the entire time she wandered around the lab. He could tell it was only a matter of time before she touched things.
The girl’s eyes widened, like a rabbit in headlights, and she jerked her hand back from the glittering panel.
“That is very important and complicated equipment. You wouldn’t understand,” he said, and turned his attention back to re-wiring a hydraulic door motor.
Then suddenly she was right there, staring again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Can I help you?” He put down the motor. “Or are you just here to annoy me? Because you’re doing a damn good job of it...” his rant, becoming more heated, and now including the brandishing of a miniature soldering iron, was interrupted.
“River.”
That doctor. Her brother. He hovered around her like she hovered around everyone and everything else. Must be a family trait.
He took her by the shoulders, and looked at Rodney, iron still in hand, poised for the down-cut.
“I’d appreciate if you leave my sister alone,” he said, as though Rodney were a five-year old child. And turned and guided her towards the doors.
“Me? Leave her...?” He tossed the iron onto the table. “She was the...” His sentences unfinished, it was only his indignant look which followed the doctor out of the room.
* * *
Simon stood in the doorway, leaning on the jamb. As he stood there in silence, a slow smile spread across his face. He nearly stopped himself in what has become a wholly unfamiliar expression. It’s been so long since he smiled. He watched his sister, the quiet genius, work quietly across the lab table from Dr. McKay. It seemed they had argued (and by “they”, Simon meant Dr. McKay had yelled, and River had ignored him) only this morning, mere hours ago. Finding them in this perfect silence was a gem, and he did not wish to disturb them. He uncrossed his arms and ducked into the shadows and out into the hallway, the smile still on his face. He even allowed himself a small laugh.
Inside the lab, River smiled. She knew he stood there, and heard him laugh, ever so softly, as he tried to leave quietly. She giggled.
“Something you care to share with the class?” Rodney asked, not looking up from his worktable where he was working on trying to figure out how to utilize, in theory, one of the smaller ancient devices in another “infirmary” of the un-lived sector of Atlantis.
“Simon thinks we’re sweet.”
This time, he did look up, and raised an eyebrow. “Sweet?” he said, the molasses tone of sarcasm ever-present in his voice.
“Yes. Sweet,” she said, and looked down at her console. “Done.”
“Done? With what?”
“This.”
He made a tsking sound, and came around to the other side.
“You can’t be done with this,” he said, and shoved her lightly to the side as his fingers ran over the screen. His brow furrowed as he examined her figures, her schematics. “This can’t really work, you know. This isn’t Star Trek,” he said condescendingly.
“But you make shit up all the time.”
Rodney turned on her, and was about to yell something about how he, in fact, never “made shit up”, but she was humming. And began to sing to herself softly “bounce a graviton particle beam off the main deflector dish”, and Rodney held up a hand to stop her, his eyes closed. He took a deep breath. He exhaled loudly, opening his eyes. “It can’t work because you are assuming that we’re going to give your little ship a zed-pm that we don’t have.”
“We’ll make one.”
“Make one?!”
“From the dead ones.”
“The...” He closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Dead ones?”
“They’re all over the place.”
“There are no zed-pms on Atlantis that I do not know about.”
“Yes, there are. They’re hiding. Playing quiet. Playing dead.”
“You’re insane,” he said, and walked back around the lab table to sit back at his console and ignore her.
She just stood there, looking at him.
“Not crazy. Broken.”
* * *
“So River thinks that there are ZPMs hidden somewhere in Atlantis?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?” Rodney looked at Weir with a puppy-dog look on his face, pleading with her to not make so much emphasis of this skimpy girl and her crazy theories.
“Well does she know where they are?”
“Elizabeth, if I knew that, don’t you think I would have burst in here all crazy-like and said ‘Elizabeth! ZedPMs!’”
She smiled. “Can you get her to tell you where they are?”
“I don’t think she knows.”
“Wait, you just said she knows they’re here.”
“Yes, thinks she knows they’re here. Somewhere,” he paused. “If you hadn’t noticed, she’s a few sandwiches short upstairs,” he muttered, making the crazy sign with his right hand. He looked back at Elizabeth. “Not everything she says is useful, nor does most of it make sense.”
“Rodney,” Elizabeth said in her warning tone.
“It’s true! She’s nutty! That isn’t my fault,” he said hands on his chest in an indignant, Fame sort of way.
“Well you could do a better job making her feel at home here. You’ve been very standoffish with our guests. Which,” she looked at him directly, making him look away, “might I add, are here thanks to you.”
Rodney sighed. “Thanks, as if I wasn’t acutely aware,” he said softly, still not looking at her.
“They consider it a god-sent of some kind. Still not quite sure what they’re running from, but I do get the impression that here is better than there. So I imagine they’d thank you for it.” She paused. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. They’re here for an undetermined amount of time. We’re treating them like refugees. Refugees who can help us. And you are not cooperating.”
“Elizabeth, she touches everything. She’s always in my space,” he rose from his chair and threw his hands up in the air.
“You’ve got to learn to share, Rodney. Or are you just jealous we’ve got another genius amongst us?” she smiled.
“Hardly,” he deadpanned.
“Hardly jealous? I doubt that very much.”
“No, hardly that she’s a genius. So she can work a computer. So can monkeys. And you don’t see me running out to congratulate them.”
“Sit down, Rodney,” she said, and he complied. “I just feel like these people have a lot to offer us, and that you are making that difficult for certain of them.”
“Tell her to go bother Radek.”
She smiled again. “She seems to like you.”
Rodney grimaced. “Oh dear god, no.”
“Is it that hard to believe that someone could enjoy your company?”
He paused. “Well,” he looked down for a moment. “Yes, actually.”
For a moment, a smile crept onto Elizabeth’s face. Coming face to face with one’s own demons was always hard. More so for someone like Rodney.
“Being in the company of someone smarter than you, like myself, can be very,” he waved his hand in the air, looking for a word, “awkward. No one likes it very much,” he admitted.
She raised an eyebrow at him, and tilted her head, in that ‘oh really?’ tone of body language.
“Oh oh! No, you know I don’t mean you personally, I mean you in an...abstract. way.” he said, trailing off. He pressed his lips together as though to button them shut.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “All I’m saying Rodney, is that until some solution is reached, we will have to arrange ourselves accordingly. And I seem to remember someone saying that two heads were better than one.”
“And too many cooks spoil the broth,” he added, before buttoning his lips again in the face of Elizabeth’s gaze.
“Do we have an agreement?”
“Did we reach an agreement? I don’t remember agreeing to anything,” he said, his voice considerably more meek than when he first entered the office.
“We came here to learn from other peoples, other cultures, other worlds. Did you forget that?” He did not respond. “And these people are all of the above. I expect that in the future, you will treat them with respect, not only as our guests, but as people we can learn from. Do we understand each other?”
“Loud and clear,” he muttered, and got up from the desk. “May I?” he gestured to the door, and she nodded.
He left, his head down, and walked quickly towards the labs, as though on important business, passing John Sheppard on the way. Sheppard walked into Elizabeth’s office, and the door closed behind him.
“Ooh, looks like Rodney got yelled at,” he said, in a smarmy schoolboy sort of voice.
Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled. “Just reminding him to play nice with others,” she said, as John made himself at home, putting his feet up on her desk.
“Playing nice, eh? I’ll tell you Elizabeth, there’s no need to lecture me on playing nice,” he began.
She had returned to her paperwork, but her voice still carried to his ear. “John Sheppard, if I hear anything about you playing nice with our guests, I will confine you to quarters,” she looked up. “Is that clear?”
He grinned. “Aw, you ruin all my fun.”
“Mmm,” she said, and he winked at her before swinging his legs off the desk and making for the door.
comments and criticisms welcome.