SGA Fic - Out of Touch
Dec. 20th, 2006 03:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielWritten sometime last summer. Re-written last night and looked over by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
trademybike (who is kind enough to put up with the fanfiction though it's not her thing). It's Sheppard/McKay, focus on Sheppard, and set sometime in some future of my own creating.
Out of Touch
After they make their final return to Earth, John doesn’t hear from Rodney at all. It’s been months since he last saw him at that final debriefing under Cheyenne Mountain. The silence, so foreign in regard to everything McKay, doesn’t take long to weigh on John. It doesn’t take long before he begins to doubt himself.
He had thought that there was the possibility of something else between the two of them, something more. They had clicked immediately. They had flirted for years. They had understood each other. Apparently John had been wrong.
Not long before the final departure from Atlantis, John had found Rodney out on one of the many balconies with a bottle of some Athosian homebrew. He’d joined him and they’d talked and drank, sitting companionably together in the cool breeze blowing up off the water. It had been comforting, and John had thought it could finally be the start of something else between them. Just because they were leaving Atlantis, just because they weren’t going to be a team any more, didn’t mean that it was all over between them. He hadn’t wanted it to be. So he’d made his move, leaning in and kissing Rodney.
For a brief moment, John was afraid he’d made a horrible mistake. Then Rodney had kissed him back. Brief and soft and barely there before it was gone, but he’d definitely responded.
Until he had pulled back and stood up, all the while blushing and stammering, and left John on the balcony by himself. Rodney successfully avoided him until the debriefings back on Earth.
John had tried to talk to Rodney during the time at Stargate Command, but ever time he’d found him Rodney had been too busy or surrounded by people. John just couldn’t seem to get him alone. By the time it came for him to leave the SGC, John had been annoyed enough to have second thoughts about pursuing someone who apparently wasn’t interested.
Now John lives in a house on a hill not far from the ocean; he can see it from his windows. Sometimes at night he can hear the waves. He hasn’t heard from Rodney, but he has heard from Elizabeth and Carson and even Radek. They all talk to him about what they’ve been doing post-Atlantis and they all expect that Rodney’s been talking to him, too. Apparently he’s been in contact with the rest of them.
It isn’t until Elizabeth asks John if he’s heard about the latest crazy, but admittedly brilliant, thing Rodney’s been working on and John, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice, answer that he hasn’t heard from Rodney at all.
“At all?” she asks, her voice full of disbelief.
“Nope. Not a word. We had a sort of…misunderstanding before we left Atlantis.” John doesn’t really want to admit it, but it’s Elizabeth and she’s one of the few people that he trusts.
She sighs over the phone and after a moment says, “I’m sure he’ll get over it, John.”
When he doesn’t reply, Elizabeth goes back to telling him about the latest places she’s been.
John spends his days reading and surfing and plucking lazily on a guitar he’s always wished he could play better. He doesn’t need to work so he doesn’t go looking for a job, at least for now. At night he sometimes goes down to the local bar and drinks a beer or two and listens to the people around him, trying not to compare the sounds of people here to the sounds of people in another galaxy. They are at the same time too alike and too different and it makes him homesick for an alien city he’s not going to see again.
He usually gets a couple of offers, mostly from women, but he never takes them up on it. He goes to the bar looking for company and always leaves alone. Even if he spends time flirting with them and it turns out they get along, they never click in quite the right way.
The truth is John’s stuck. He’s lonely, but he doesn’t want someone anonymous. He doesn’t want to take the time to make them not anonymous. He’d just compare them to someone else, someone who hasn’t called, anyway.
One night, he enters the bar and sees a familiar figure standing with their back to him. The shoulders are broad and solid looking and he can tell that hair, even in the dark interior, is a sandy brown color. John’s heart stutters in his chest as he approaches the man, taps on his shoulder, says, “McKay?”
The man turns. John takes in his brown eyes and perfectly straight mouth. “I’m sorry?” the man asks.
John frowns and steps back. “Sorry,” he says, barely able to speak. “I thought you were someone else.” He leaves the bar without even a drink.
At home John slips off his shoes and socks and pads barefoot into the kitchen. He grabs a beer from the fridge and flops down on the sofa, feet on the coffee table. He wonders where Elizabeth is and if it’s too late to call her wherever that might be.
He’s just finished his beer when there’s a knock on his door. Hardly anyone ever comes to his door and never at this time of night. John gets up, putting the bottle on the table, and slowly makes his way to the door.
He opens it and there, standing in front of him, is Rodney, hand raised to knock again. They stare at each other for a minute before Rodney smiles tentatively at him, lowering his hand. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. I got a little lost on the way.”
John doesn’t want to smile back at him, he wants to be furious at him for the avoidance, but his heart is racing and Rodney is standing on his doorstep with a suitcase at his side wearing a ridiculous Mr. Fantastic T-shirt. John smiles at him and stands back, moving to let Rodney enter. “I think there’s still room for you.”
Rodney’s smile becomes less tentative, more relieved. He picks up his suitcase and passes John in the doorway. “I hope there’s room for me,” he says. “I didn’t climb that hill for nothing.”
John laughs and closes the door behind him.
trademybike (who is kind enough to put up with the fanfiction though it's not her thing). It's Sheppard/McKay, focus on Sheppard, and set sometime in some future of my own creating.Out of Touch
After they make their final return to Earth, John doesn’t hear from Rodney at all. It’s been months since he last saw him at that final debriefing under Cheyenne Mountain. The silence, so foreign in regard to everything McKay, doesn’t take long to weigh on John. It doesn’t take long before he begins to doubt himself.
He had thought that there was the possibility of something else between the two of them, something more. They had clicked immediately. They had flirted for years. They had understood each other. Apparently John had been wrong.
Not long before the final departure from Atlantis, John had found Rodney out on one of the many balconies with a bottle of some Athosian homebrew. He’d joined him and they’d talked and drank, sitting companionably together in the cool breeze blowing up off the water. It had been comforting, and John had thought it could finally be the start of something else between them. Just because they were leaving Atlantis, just because they weren’t going to be a team any more, didn’t mean that it was all over between them. He hadn’t wanted it to be. So he’d made his move, leaning in and kissing Rodney.
For a brief moment, John was afraid he’d made a horrible mistake. Then Rodney had kissed him back. Brief and soft and barely there before it was gone, but he’d definitely responded.
Until he had pulled back and stood up, all the while blushing and stammering, and left John on the balcony by himself. Rodney successfully avoided him until the debriefings back on Earth.
John had tried to talk to Rodney during the time at Stargate Command, but ever time he’d found him Rodney had been too busy or surrounded by people. John just couldn’t seem to get him alone. By the time it came for him to leave the SGC, John had been annoyed enough to have second thoughts about pursuing someone who apparently wasn’t interested.
Now John lives in a house on a hill not far from the ocean; he can see it from his windows. Sometimes at night he can hear the waves. He hasn’t heard from Rodney, but he has heard from Elizabeth and Carson and even Radek. They all talk to him about what they’ve been doing post-Atlantis and they all expect that Rodney’s been talking to him, too. Apparently he’s been in contact with the rest of them.
It isn’t until Elizabeth asks John if he’s heard about the latest crazy, but admittedly brilliant, thing Rodney’s been working on and John, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice, answer that he hasn’t heard from Rodney at all.
“At all?” she asks, her voice full of disbelief.
“Nope. Not a word. We had a sort of…misunderstanding before we left Atlantis.” John doesn’t really want to admit it, but it’s Elizabeth and she’s one of the few people that he trusts.
She sighs over the phone and after a moment says, “I’m sure he’ll get over it, John.”
When he doesn’t reply, Elizabeth goes back to telling him about the latest places she’s been.
John spends his days reading and surfing and plucking lazily on a guitar he’s always wished he could play better. He doesn’t need to work so he doesn’t go looking for a job, at least for now. At night he sometimes goes down to the local bar and drinks a beer or two and listens to the people around him, trying not to compare the sounds of people here to the sounds of people in another galaxy. They are at the same time too alike and too different and it makes him homesick for an alien city he’s not going to see again.
He usually gets a couple of offers, mostly from women, but he never takes them up on it. He goes to the bar looking for company and always leaves alone. Even if he spends time flirting with them and it turns out they get along, they never click in quite the right way.
The truth is John’s stuck. He’s lonely, but he doesn’t want someone anonymous. He doesn’t want to take the time to make them not anonymous. He’d just compare them to someone else, someone who hasn’t called, anyway.
One night, he enters the bar and sees a familiar figure standing with their back to him. The shoulders are broad and solid looking and he can tell that hair, even in the dark interior, is a sandy brown color. John’s heart stutters in his chest as he approaches the man, taps on his shoulder, says, “McKay?”
The man turns. John takes in his brown eyes and perfectly straight mouth. “I’m sorry?” the man asks.
John frowns and steps back. “Sorry,” he says, barely able to speak. “I thought you were someone else.” He leaves the bar without even a drink.
At home John slips off his shoes and socks and pads barefoot into the kitchen. He grabs a beer from the fridge and flops down on the sofa, feet on the coffee table. He wonders where Elizabeth is and if it’s too late to call her wherever that might be.
He’s just finished his beer when there’s a knock on his door. Hardly anyone ever comes to his door and never at this time of night. John gets up, putting the bottle on the table, and slowly makes his way to the door.
He opens it and there, standing in front of him, is Rodney, hand raised to knock again. They stare at each other for a minute before Rodney smiles tentatively at him, lowering his hand. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. I got a little lost on the way.”
John doesn’t want to smile back at him, he wants to be furious at him for the avoidance, but his heart is racing and Rodney is standing on his doorstep with a suitcase at his side wearing a ridiculous Mr. Fantastic T-shirt. John smiles at him and stands back, moving to let Rodney enter. “I think there’s still room for you.”
Rodney’s smile becomes less tentative, more relieved. He picks up his suitcase and passes John in the doorway. “I hope there’s room for me,” he says. “I didn’t climb that hill for nothing.”
John laughs and closes the door behind him.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-21 12:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-21 11:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-21 07:21 pm (UTC)One exercise McDowell had us do that really showed this to me was by having us write a piece that was ONLY ACTION. We had to show our character performing a task that was meaningful to the character. But we couldn't say it. It had to be completely as if a camera was following our character around and reporting only on what we saw. No inner thoughts. No guessing about what a certain movement or facial expression meant. That was up to the reader. Yet we still had to convey something. With short pieces like this I have found it helpful to sometimes just write the whole thing again using that model. It won't be the final piece but you might get a whole bunch of great stuff out of it.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-21 11:49 pm (UTC)I'm now really intrigued by this idea of writing only action, another one of those interesting restrictions. I'll have to try it out and see where it gets me.
I'd love to hear about the other exercises McDowell had you do.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-22 02:36 am (UTC)To me, the reason that beginning isn't quite working is that you jump right into John missing Rodney. Maybe leading with It's been months since the ... would give me a chance to settle into the place and time before jumping into the real conflict. Then again, I haven't taken a writing course other than journalism since high school.
Sometime between the 26th and 3rd we need to get together and tear up the town. Or something.
<3
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-23 12:10 am (UTC)I guess I either need to quite fiddling with the whole thing and call it good, or take another good look at the beginning and see if I can do some more lead in. Or something. I guess this could be as simple as conveying more of a sense of time passing. Hmm.