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Language:
English
Series:
Part 4 of Good Kid, Gone Missing
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Published:
2008-04-24
Words:
781
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1/1
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5 drabbles in the Good Kid, Gone Missing 'Verse

Work Text:

1. Talking to my Angel

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in God—Rodney was a competent scientist and knew better then to dismiss theories before there was a chance to conduct ample research. It was just…he wasn’t sure he wanted to believe in a God that could have screwed up so badly! Every time he saw his body, he felt a flash of pain and despair. And he couldn’t even do anything about it—he wanted to be a scientist more then anything, and starting on estrogen when he was being investigated by the FBI, CIA and numerous other acronyms wasn’t the smartest thing.

One day. One day. Maybe if he said it enough he’d believe it.

2. If I Wanted To

He’d stumbled upon it by accident—as much as anything in Atlantis could be an accident, anyways. There was a certain consciousness that the technology exuded, and he was fairly sure the brain waves could interface and even when he couldn’t consciously think of a request, Atlantis knew exactly what he was looking for. So to suddenly stumble upon the technology needed to make his entire life what he had dreamed about, for years and months and days and minutes and seconds. It was too perfect, too easy—it wouldn’t solve his problems, it would only bring about a physical change. He’d still be Rodney, still be the socially awkward boy from Canada that had been to scared to make the change when there was still a choice.

Looking at the screen, Rodney thought off once. It would always be there, lurking in the corners of the technology, but for now: Rodney tapped his radio on with only the slightest display of frustration: “Sheppard?”

3. Silent Legacy

He learned what stoic meant by watching his father: a man trapped in a loveless marriage, with a son that clearly didn’t meet the dreamed expectations of years of fantasies. But his father still grinned every day, greeted the sun with a morning run (which John thought was spent mostly trying to run away from his problems) and a cup of coffee. His father didn’t complain: he faced his problems like a man. Every conflict that needed to be tackled was approached head-on.

John tackled problems much as his father before him. He didn’t whine, or complain. Instead, John learned the benefits of coffee at an early age. He learned to bite his lip when necessary. There was nothing he couldn’t face without a cup of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face.

Such a silent, deadly, legacy.

4. I Will Never Be the Same

John crawled out of the bed, and looked at Meredith with soft eyes. Her lips were chapped, and John wanted to do nothing more then lean down and kiss her awake. He could imagine her breathy moans, and the secret smile that would twist his heart. He slowly pictured her gasps as he thought of how he would fondle her breasts, as he pictured his large hands, thumbing her nipples and pinching them slightly. He wanted to feel their heavy weight on his tongue. He could remember what it felt like to nibble on the tips that had once been only a forbidden memory. God, he wanted to wake her up and have his way. He wanted to sink into her wet heat and truly listen to her careless words of passion as he thrust into her body.

Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her gently upon her wrinkled forehead. Elizabeth was waiting, and he didn’t like to be late. A habit he had picked up over the years.

5. Tuesday Morning

John was terrified: he’d never imagined something like this could happen. He’d been in the Air Force since college; he flew fighter jets, hung out with his friends, and played online chess. He never thought he’d have to go to war. But now—he looked at the television screen again with horror etched across his face. He knew it was too early to predict, that nothing was really known at this time, not even who was responsible for the attacks. But he knew it, somehow, deep in his gut, that this was it. He was going to war, and heaven help anybody that stood in the way.

But that was something for tomorrow. Now he had to force himself to sit still; force himself to take deep breaths, over and over again. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was Tuesday morning. He was supposed to be on base, grilling some young cadets over something that seemed pointless and absurd, now. It was Tuesday, and he was terrified.

Damn Tuesdays.

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