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Rodney hates
September.
September is the No-Man’s-Land of an Earth year. It signals the end of
one season and the beginning of another.
It’s very true that the sunshine and pollens and flying insects of the
summer have never been a friend to Rodney, what with his sensitive skin
and complete and utter belief that he could drop dead at any moment from
a bite or a sting or a blade of grass floating up his nose.
But Rodney once loved the summer.
Sometimes he remembers that he still does.
Long days and warm nights and Rodney never hears the sound of silence
when the sun shines full in the sky. Birds and bees, the wind in the
trees, the rush of the sea and the crunch of rubber soles on pebbles;
the sounds are like music and Rodney’s heart breaks ever so slightly
when September comes and the soundtrack begins to fade away.
Rodney loves the winter. It’s cold, very cold and any airborne
irritants and things with six or more legs are toes up and buried
beneath sheets and sheets of snow and ice. It’s clean, it’s
uncomplicated, it’s quiet. Rodney does his best thinking in the
winter.
But September is neither here nor there. It’s in between, it’s limbo,
it’s a month of nothing that isn’t summer, isn’t winter and, fuck, isn’t
even really fall. It’s the sore thumb of the year and Rodney never knows
where he is, never knows what to wear or what to expect. It’s
unpredictable. Rain and the dark, a slippery road and faulty brakes.
Rodney has to fix things now, has to know, but he hates being
lonely and he hates September.
Rodney steps through the Stargate and forgets.
It’s September and MX6-333 is shiny and hot like it’s July. It’s quiet
and peaceful and when Rodney takes a deep breath he finds the air is
pure and allergen free. His skin is tingling with a pleasant warmth and
he’s convinced the sunscreen he applied in the Jumper is not needed.
He looks around him and sees everything at once. It’s hard to focus, but
Rodney notices that the grass under his feet looks as though it would
feel like silk and, by the look of wonder on Major Sheppard’s face as he
bends to touch it, it does.
It’s like no place he’s ever known and he wants to give this planet a
proper name. Rodney wonders if John will argue with him about it.
He’s sure he can get Ford on his side.
A bird skims past them and it’s easily the size of a Condor. It’s
majestic and graceful and, as it passes, Rodney swears it salutes the
Lieutenant.
“Did you see the size of that thing?!”
Ford’s voice breaks the silence and although a part of Rodney wishes to
reprimand him, purely out of habit, he doesn’t.
“Huh. Big.” It’s not the most intelligent thing Rodney has ever said,
but he doesn’t feel the need to say much more. “Bird,” he adds, unsure
whether he’s finishing his barely-there sentence or just stating another
fact.
There are deer-like creatures in the distance, a whole group. The area
behind them shimmers and Rodney wonders if it’s just the heat or if
there’s a beautiful big lake just waiting to be discovered. One of the
alien deer dips its head as though drinking and Rodney suddenly gets the
urge to skinny dip.
“It looks like a lake,” Teyla states. Just for the record.
“We should check.” Sheppard tips his head at the probably-a-lake and
everybody starts walking. Rodney wonders if they should be approaching
wild, unknown animals. He doesn’t care. He wonders if the others are
wondering the same thing and not caring either.
The sun is so big and it feels like it should be too close, but Rodney
basks in it, turning his face to the sky and opening his mouth like he
wants to taste it. He breathes deep and his eyes close for just a moment
while his super-sized brain processes that he hasn’t yet sneezed.
Rodney gets extra grumpy in the summer. He remembers what they used to
feel like and it’s kind of like this.
He breathes again, long and deep, and he turns his head now and sees
Major Sheppard doing the same. He smiles and the Major smiles back.
“How cool is this?” John says. “I’m not even breaking a sweat.”
He’s right and Rodney notices for the first time that his armpits aren’t
damp and his chest isn’t heaving with the exertion of walking in intense
heat. He wishes he’d brought sunglasses, but the Major is still smiling
at him and holding out a spare pair.
Rodney takes them.
The lake turns out to be just that and now Teyla is smiling and holding
out her palm while a young deer with big doe eyes licks it and nuzzles
her wrist. “I have never known such tame creatures. They seem to be used
to human contact.”
Sheppard looks around him. “Don’t see too many humans.”
He’s right again. The area is unspoiled and the land stretches far into
the horizon and Rodney can’t see any evidence that anyone’s ever been
here. In that moment he’s never been so sure of anything.
The planet is untouched; there is no-one else here.
“They’re not scared because they’ve no reason to be,” Rodney says.
“They’ve never seen a human,” Teyla muses. She’s still smiling and the
creatures are starting to flock around her, smelling and licking and
nudging at her tac vest where they can probably smell the emergency
supply of power bars that she never actually needs or eats.
“Hey, Big Bird is back.” Ford points up even though it’s completely
obvious where to look.
The bird is squawking now and it sounds like a song and Rodney can tell
that Ford is awed, like he’s hearing his first opera.
Rodney’s arms rise from his sides to embrace the air around him. “This
place…it’s… Just wait until Elizabeth hears about this.” And yeah, he
can tell by all their expressions that they’ll let him be the one to
tell.
And the Major won’t even interrupt. Rodney can tell this, too. John
looks moved, looks like he’s been struck by a bolt of happiness, and
it’s the same look that he gives Rodney every time they kiss.
And Rodney knows that he’s looking back at John with the same
expression. A part of him thinks that maybe he should say something
profound now, something utterly wonderful, and another part is suddenly
screaming and thumping inside his skull for freedom, for escape.
“I think we’ve really found something here,” Rodney says, because he’s
not listening to the panicking voice that isn’t really there anyway.
“Yeah. I think we have.” Major John Sheppard relaxes completely and
lowers his P-90 and that’s when everything falls apart.
That’s the moment that Rodney watches John’s expression fall.
That’s the moment the deer turn on Teyla, their lips curling up and
revealing long, razor sharp fangs that pierce her clothing and rip the
skin from her body.
That’s the moment that Big Bird turns crazy and Ford starts running and
falling and screaming.
That’s the moment that Rodney hears something like a shot and it’s not
from John’s weapon because John is barely holding it now, his hands limp
and his eyes glazed and unseeing and, oh god, Rodney realises he’s
covered in John’s blood.
Everything rushes towards him then, the thick poison in the air choking
him, the insects biting and stinging and fucking burrowing into his
skin. Rodney just manages to catch John as he falls and he would scream,
he would shout and cry hysterically, but his eyes and nose are already
streaming and his throat is swollen and bleeding.
There are things growling and Rodney is scared and wondering when the
vampire deer are going to turn on him, but Teyla is busy hitting them
with sticks so that’s kind of okay.
Ford isn’t doing so well. He’s on his back and he’s flailing and
flapping back at the bird and screaming, “Oh, god, no!” over and
over and when Rodney sees the bird pulling at something that looks
suspiciously like a length of intestine his survival instinct kicks in.
He snatches John’s P-90 from his still hands and pretends not to notice
how pale John’s face is. Rodney does notice the blisters on his own
burned hands and he quashes the urge to shout a triumphant, “I told you
I burned easily!!” but he knows John can’t hear him and he pretends that
he hasn’t just thought that because John not hearing him meant bad, bad,
very bad things that only happened when it was September.
Rodney fires and the bird drops like a lead weight on top of him instead
of Ford. Rodney is confused and he’s surprised that he’s managed to hit
the thing first go. Ford is screaming at him now and Rodney doesn’t know
why.
Teyla is next to him and she’s covered in more blood than Rodney would
expect to see on someone that was still standing. She has her P-90 in
her hands and the sticks are gone. She’s driving back the killer Bambies.
Ford was there too, crouching next to him - not an intestine, then
- and Rodney wonders why he’s suddenly shouting and swearing at the
Lieutenant. But Ford is trying to take John away from him, he’s pulling
and taking and depriving and that’s why Rodney is freaking out.
And John isn’t moving and his lips are blue and his eyes are wide open
and all Rodney has left is to hold on and never let go.
The air is getting thinner and Rodney can barely breathe; it’s like he’s
sucked a whole lemon and everything is getting dimmer like the sun is
setting and the lemon is falling down his throat.
But he’s still holding on and he won’t ever give up. Not ever.
The light fades completely and Rodney hears the distant whoosh of the
Stargate. He never lets go. He holds John tight and together they touch
and kiss and tell each other over and over how much they love the other.
And that part is a dream and weirdly it’s the part that Rodney
desperately wants to wake up from because it can’t be real and it’s not
fair to be taunted like this.
Dream Rodney does cry then and he doesn’t care if anyone hears because
why the fuck shouldn’t he cry?
Because it was all fucking gone.
Rodney hates September.
And he tells John that when he wakes. He’s been in a coma, John tells
him, and Rodney isn’t sure he believes that. He’s confused and scared
and relieved and he wishes he had any amount of strength because he can
feel his hand in John’s and he wants to hold on tighter.
The others are apparently okay and John looks good, even with the huge
bandage taped around his neck. He tells Rodney what happened, or at
least tells him what he’s been told because John apparently can’t
remember a lot either.
The wonderful, looks-and-feels-like-silk grass actually turned out to be
bastard-squirt toxic-chemicals-in-your-face grass.
Carson Beckett floats by and tells them the grassland was only defending
itself. Rodney can barely move and it hurts to talk but he totally gives
Carson a piece of his mind about that.
And what a pity the MALP didn’t register a damn thing when it scouted
ahead and rolled only onto the paved area around the Stargate. Rodney’s
thinking that MALPs are useless and he’s not going to take that thought
back until he absolutely has to.
John is looking tired and Rodney reaches out and touches around the
edges of the bandage. Now he’s wondering again how much was real and how
much was in his head. The only thing that Rodney can remember was
a feeling of complete loss and a pain more intense than if his legs had
been ripped to shreds by Big Bird.
“So, you’re okay?” Rodney asks and he can’t say what he really feels
because no words have ever been created to adequately convey what’s
trapped inside his chest right at that moment. Rodney decides to create
new words because the English language sucks. Just as soon as he can
convince someone to bring him his…
“My laptop!”
John just rolls his eyes and squeezes Rodney’s hand. “I’m fine and your
laptop is safe, sound, scratch free and right here.”
The touch anchors him and Rodney floats, knowing that neither he nor
John, or the laptop, will be going anywhere.
With a whisper, because John knows how Rodney feels about September and
it’s a private thing, he tells Rodney that it’s October 1st.
Rodney loves October.
The End.
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