A follow-up to Last Port Of Call.
Aug. 24th, 2006 03:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusA couple people expressed an interest in seeing the next tidbit on Last Port Of Call.
I have no intention of continuing the story -- I'm not sure I want to tinker with it. It was a pretty powerful piece and I'm fairly sure anything I write next won't be as good.
However, I did write this next part and I haven't accomplished anything else this week. *cough, hack, sniffle* I've been worried a smidge about wank, but heck, it's my story and people are either gonna like it or not. Not my problem.
So, for those of you who are interested, Rodney's POV in Last Port Of Call:
Last Port Of Call
by Icarus
Rodney ran a hand up the back of his head where he sat slumped on the floor, knees drawn up. A circle of soldiers were getting a demonstration of the Athosian stick-fighting. If the Wraith landed in the city, John had just explained, his arms folded across his chest, you were better off knowing some hand-to-hand combat moves that kept them at a distance. No one answered, shifting uncomfortably.
Rodney liked women. For a lot of reasons, not all of them the obvious ones. Although he definitely likes the curves pressed up against him and the way his hair stylist’s breast used to brush his back, just a little, while she worked. When he fell off his bike and April Bingham walked him home, okay, he might have exaggerated the limp a teeny bit just to get his arm around her shoulder and smell her hair. She probably noticed, but didn’t seem to mind.
Rodney had had more sexual harassment complaints filed against him than any other staff member at Area 51, a record he regarded with a mixture of embarrassment and pride, although really-? He was just caught more often, that’s all. Casual Fridays were a nightmare, especially in Nevada.
John circled Teyla, moving in – and had to retreat quickly, her sticks meeting his with a violent crack.
Unfortunately, Rodney had never really perfected the, you know, up and down look, where you glanced over a woman and pretended to be gazing off in the distance. He always got lost somewhere between the cleavage and the hips, whichever she had in most abundance, his mouth falling open until by the time he looked back up her body, he'd meet a disdainful glare... 90%... 97%... okay, pretty much 100% of the time. He operated at disadvantage from that point onward.
Elizabeth had mentioned his record in Rodney’s interview back in Antarctica, giving him a hard, tight look that told him he’d nearly missed going to Atlantis – by that much – but that, once again, his expertise could not be ignored. Women bosses were never good for Rodney.
He’d been very careful with Elizabeth ever since, and worked very hard to prove himself until she finally lost that disapproving downward tilt of her head. He could almost see the words cross her mind the moment she decided, “I made the right choice.” Of course, he’d been laying half-dead on the floor at the time, but that made it almost worth it.
There was a loud crack and clatter as a stick flew out of John’s hand. He rolled to retrieve it and several men edged back.
Rodney didn’t get the Major’s interest in archaic outmoded fighting techniques until he watched Teyla – a tit-bounce, a flash of thigh in a split-skirt – and decided he didn’t blame John one bit. Especially when she hauled him off the floor, her chest heaving, the stick across his neck and her knee in his back.
Teyla released him and let him stand, and John passed out sets of sticks to the men. Rodney shook his head and brushed away the pair offered to him. John gave him a curious look because, no, Rodney didn’t usually attend these training exercises. Though of course Rodney would try it all later when no one was looking.
Frankly, women were better than men in Rodney's opinion. The proverbial “weaker sex” was simply easier for Rodney to work with. The stupid ones got out of his way, scattering as he shouldered into his office. With a few choice words he could cow them with his brilliance and usually had them eating out of his hand at the end of a week (or else they’d quit, a satisfactory outcome either way). The rare woman who could keep up with McKay, well, Samantha Carter was a perfect example. Even when she was sure her cockamamie idea was right (and it shouldn’t have worked, really) she stood aside and let him work his magic first and, okay, her idea had worked and his hadn’t, but she hadn’t been too much of a jerk about it. Except for getting him sent to Siberia. That had hurt.
Men on the other hand had to turn everything into a pissing contest, stood their ground on their idiocy no matter how solidly they were proven wrong, which forced Rodney to waste valuable time yelling at them. And the Kavanagh-types were far more common in science than the cooperative Zelenkas.
Plus women never forgot to refill the coffee pot.
If Rodney had his way, he’d staff his entire science team with women. Though that would probably look bad. Elizabeth would never understand.
Sheppard demonstrated one of Teyla’s moves with a young Marine, moving smoothly as a drawn blade. The major always looked vulnerable, like he couldn’t possibly be dangerous, but the Marine went down and John didn’t. John gave the man one of his little pleased smiles and helped him to his feet. Rodney squirmed uncomfortably. That shouldn’t be hot.
Try as he might, Rodney could find no sign that Sheppard was gay, even though he obviously was, given what they’d been up to last night. All of last night. Rodney shifted, because sitting was not entirely pleasant at the moment. He felt too-open and sore. He may have caved to John’s understandable persistence given his one and only shot at Rodney McKay, a rarity in his homosexual world no doubt –- he’d heard some gay men liked to poach on the other side of the fence –- but Sheppard? Had demonstrated his orientation in no uncertain terms. Rodney felt a smug surge of power that he knew Sheppard’s “little secret.”
Sheppard moved with a swagger, every bit a man who’d gotten laid the last night. Rodney wanted to block him with one of those sticks and say, It was me, Sheppard, so it doesn’t count. Though he wasn’t sure about that.
There was nothing Rodney had missed before. No fruity gestures, no staring at men's crotches, no getting a little "handsy" with the manly pats on the ass with the soldiers –- did soldiers pat each other on the ass? Rodney shook off the thought, letting his head dip between his arms with a deep calming breath. It was not a good idea to start thinking that way. Though he took a quick surreptitious glimpse around the room to see if there was any ass-patting going on anyway, trying to squelch the "full contact" version that kept blooming in his mind.
Sheppard probably had to be careful in the military, Rodney decided. And wouldn't it be sad, Rodney thought happily, if the vaunted leader of the military, the one everyone wanted, was forced to be celibate? He smirked. He had a new vision of Chaya's visit to savor, one where she learned the truth and then left like a bat out of hell as Sheppard chased her in a jumper to apologize. Rodney chuckled to himself.
"Something funny?" a soldier waiting his turn asked, hands folded behind his back.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," Rodney smiled.
The exercise over, Rodney leveraged himself awkwardly off the floor, feeling inexplicably smug, his curiosity satisfied. Tall soldiers filtered around him, talking amongst themselves as lieutenant Kane shoved one of the marines playfully. Another pulled on a sweatshirt and tossed a sweaty towel at the laundry bin, the last to exit. Rodney winced and bit his lip as the attempt to move tensed muscles that had been used in entirely inappropriate ways the night before, proving definitively that the ass was not meant to be a sexual organ.
"Hey, Rodney…"
Sheppard approached, and Rodney felt unaccountably nervous, heart fluttering as he stood, dusting off his pants with a sigh. He stared at the ground a moment to get himself under control. Under control, yes.
"Come for your watch?" Sheppard asked with a slow smile.
Rodney blinked up at him, distracted by the non sequitur. "What?"
"On the radio. This morning."
And Rodney flushed at the mention of "this morning" and everything that meant. He'd even left his headset and socks in Sheppard's quarters. "Shh! Would you be quiet?" Rodney complained with a quick hushing gesture, glancing about. The room was still empty. "Someone will suspect!"
"Rodney. There's no one here."
The warm tone of that "Rodney" was way too intimate for Rodney's good. He looked around, anywhere but at Sheppard, and tried to think "manly, manly," right. He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest, thinking of every spy movie he'd ever seen, raising his chin. "Yes, well. You can't be too careful."
Rodney rocked back on his heels swinging his arms, still not looking at John or thinking of John's hairy chest. He'd slept with someone who had a hairy chest. And he also had hairy -- oh, he had to get far, far away from Sheppard. He was contagiously gay. Rodney bounced a little, tapping his fist into his palm, wondering when it would be polite to leave.
"Rodney, are you okay?" A frown crossed Sheppard's face.
"No, not really," Rodney answered honestly, still waiting for his moment to make a break for it. They were having a conversation, so leaving now would be rude. Although, so was walking in on someone in the bathroom. "And you have no manners, you know that?"
Sheppard's eyebrows raised in clear surprise. Rodney rolled his eyes at the typical military short-term memory loss. He figured they issued selective memories in boot camp so the soldiers would forget they'd been traumatized. "Just waltzing in on me? In the bathroom?"
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." John dipped his head sheepishly. "I guess I didn't realize you'd be shy, you know, given the circumstances."
Rodney was sure that was a leer. He was being leered at. "Look, can we not talk about this?"
"Well," and now John leaned against the wall in an obviously-intending-to-continue manner, despite the fact that Rodney was fully prepared to claw past him. "That was sort of the whole point with the watch. Conversation."
Watch? Rodney gave him a strange look.
Then he saw it. His watch.
On John's wrist. His mind went completely blank, stunned.
April Bingham had worn his jacket home in grade eleven, and yes, he'd never gotten it back and got in trouble with his parents for "losing" it -- since there was no way he'd give his sister Jeannie that much ammo -- but April had worn it home. In front of everyone. With her trapper keeper pressed to her chest and his jacket baggy about her. She'd looked ridiculous, actually, but everyone knew that jacket was his. Losing his jacket should not have felt that good.
Now Sheppard was wearing his watch. It was an astoundingly stupid risk and he should demand that he take it off, right now, but Rodney couldn't quite close his mouth or catch his breath.
"Rodney." Sheppard snapped his fingers. "Are you with me here?"
"It's – it's okay. You can wear it. Have it, even. I've…" Rodney gestured over his shoulder vaguely, in no particular direction, and laughed. "I've got plenty of clocks, and there's one on my laptop that keeps perfect time -- I mean, of course it does, computer technology is far superior to-- but that's neither here nor there. That watch keeps Atlantis time, I'll have you know."
"Yeah, I noticed that," Sheppard said with a smile, adjusting his back against the wall, turning the watch towards him. "I tried to reset mine but couldn't get it to work."
Rodney tried to catch his breath but there wasn't enough air, not with John taking so much of it. "I--"
He fled without further comment, leaving John staring after him and back at the watch, his lips parted, eyes startled and mystified.
I have no intention of continuing the story -- I'm not sure I want to tinker with it. It was a pretty powerful piece and I'm fairly sure anything I write next won't be as good.
However, I did write this next part and I haven't accomplished anything else this week. *cough, hack, sniffle* I've been worried a smidge about wank, but heck, it's my story and people are either gonna like it or not. Not my problem.
So, for those of you who are interested, Rodney's POV in Last Port Of Call:
Last Port Of Call
by Icarus
Rodney ran a hand up the back of his head where he sat slumped on the floor, knees drawn up. A circle of soldiers were getting a demonstration of the Athosian stick-fighting. If the Wraith landed in the city, John had just explained, his arms folded across his chest, you were better off knowing some hand-to-hand combat moves that kept them at a distance. No one answered, shifting uncomfortably.
Rodney liked women. For a lot of reasons, not all of them the obvious ones. Although he definitely likes the curves pressed up against him and the way his hair stylist’s breast used to brush his back, just a little, while she worked. When he fell off his bike and April Bingham walked him home, okay, he might have exaggerated the limp a teeny bit just to get his arm around her shoulder and smell her hair. She probably noticed, but didn’t seem to mind.
Rodney had had more sexual harassment complaints filed against him than any other staff member at Area 51, a record he regarded with a mixture of embarrassment and pride, although really-? He was just caught more often, that’s all. Casual Fridays were a nightmare, especially in Nevada.
John circled Teyla, moving in – and had to retreat quickly, her sticks meeting his with a violent crack.
Unfortunately, Rodney had never really perfected the, you know, up and down look, where you glanced over a woman and pretended to be gazing off in the distance. He always got lost somewhere between the cleavage and the hips, whichever she had in most abundance, his mouth falling open until by the time he looked back up her body, he'd meet a disdainful glare... 90%... 97%... okay, pretty much 100% of the time. He operated at disadvantage from that point onward.
Elizabeth had mentioned his record in Rodney’s interview back in Antarctica, giving him a hard, tight look that told him he’d nearly missed going to Atlantis – by that much – but that, once again, his expertise could not be ignored. Women bosses were never good for Rodney.
He’d been very careful with Elizabeth ever since, and worked very hard to prove himself until she finally lost that disapproving downward tilt of her head. He could almost see the words cross her mind the moment she decided, “I made the right choice.” Of course, he’d been laying half-dead on the floor at the time, but that made it almost worth it.
There was a loud crack and clatter as a stick flew out of John’s hand. He rolled to retrieve it and several men edged back.
Rodney didn’t get the Major’s interest in archaic outmoded fighting techniques until he watched Teyla – a tit-bounce, a flash of thigh in a split-skirt – and decided he didn’t blame John one bit. Especially when she hauled him off the floor, her chest heaving, the stick across his neck and her knee in his back.
Teyla released him and let him stand, and John passed out sets of sticks to the men. Rodney shook his head and brushed away the pair offered to him. John gave him a curious look because, no, Rodney didn’t usually attend these training exercises. Though of course Rodney would try it all later when no one was looking.
Frankly, women were better than men in Rodney's opinion. The proverbial “weaker sex” was simply easier for Rodney to work with. The stupid ones got out of his way, scattering as he shouldered into his office. With a few choice words he could cow them with his brilliance and usually had them eating out of his hand at the end of a week (or else they’d quit, a satisfactory outcome either way). The rare woman who could keep up with McKay, well, Samantha Carter was a perfect example. Even when she was sure her cockamamie idea was right (and it shouldn’t have worked, really) she stood aside and let him work his magic first and, okay, her idea had worked and his hadn’t, but she hadn’t been too much of a jerk about it. Except for getting him sent to Siberia. That had hurt.
Men on the other hand had to turn everything into a pissing contest, stood their ground on their idiocy no matter how solidly they were proven wrong, which forced Rodney to waste valuable time yelling at them. And the Kavanagh-types were far more common in science than the cooperative Zelenkas.
Plus women never forgot to refill the coffee pot.
If Rodney had his way, he’d staff his entire science team with women. Though that would probably look bad. Elizabeth would never understand.
Sheppard demonstrated one of Teyla’s moves with a young Marine, moving smoothly as a drawn blade. The major always looked vulnerable, like he couldn’t possibly be dangerous, but the Marine went down and John didn’t. John gave the man one of his little pleased smiles and helped him to his feet. Rodney squirmed uncomfortably. That shouldn’t be hot.
Try as he might, Rodney could find no sign that Sheppard was gay, even though he obviously was, given what they’d been up to last night. All of last night. Rodney shifted, because sitting was not entirely pleasant at the moment. He felt too-open and sore. He may have caved to John’s understandable persistence given his one and only shot at Rodney McKay, a rarity in his homosexual world no doubt –- he’d heard some gay men liked to poach on the other side of the fence –- but Sheppard? Had demonstrated his orientation in no uncertain terms. Rodney felt a smug surge of power that he knew Sheppard’s “little secret.”
Sheppard moved with a swagger, every bit a man who’d gotten laid the last night. Rodney wanted to block him with one of those sticks and say, It was me, Sheppard, so it doesn’t count. Though he wasn’t sure about that.
There was nothing Rodney had missed before. No fruity gestures, no staring at men's crotches, no getting a little "handsy" with the manly pats on the ass with the soldiers –- did soldiers pat each other on the ass? Rodney shook off the thought, letting his head dip between his arms with a deep calming breath. It was not a good idea to start thinking that way. Though he took a quick surreptitious glimpse around the room to see if there was any ass-patting going on anyway, trying to squelch the "full contact" version that kept blooming in his mind.
Sheppard probably had to be careful in the military, Rodney decided. And wouldn't it be sad, Rodney thought happily, if the vaunted leader of the military, the one everyone wanted, was forced to be celibate? He smirked. He had a new vision of Chaya's visit to savor, one where she learned the truth and then left like a bat out of hell as Sheppard chased her in a jumper to apologize. Rodney chuckled to himself.
"Something funny?" a soldier waiting his turn asked, hands folded behind his back.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," Rodney smiled.
The exercise over, Rodney leveraged himself awkwardly off the floor, feeling inexplicably smug, his curiosity satisfied. Tall soldiers filtered around him, talking amongst themselves as lieutenant Kane shoved one of the marines playfully. Another pulled on a sweatshirt and tossed a sweaty towel at the laundry bin, the last to exit. Rodney winced and bit his lip as the attempt to move tensed muscles that had been used in entirely inappropriate ways the night before, proving definitively that the ass was not meant to be a sexual organ.
"Hey, Rodney…"
Sheppard approached, and Rodney felt unaccountably nervous, heart fluttering as he stood, dusting off his pants with a sigh. He stared at the ground a moment to get himself under control. Under control, yes.
"Come for your watch?" Sheppard asked with a slow smile.
Rodney blinked up at him, distracted by the non sequitur. "What?"
"On the radio. This morning."
And Rodney flushed at the mention of "this morning" and everything that meant. He'd even left his headset and socks in Sheppard's quarters. "Shh! Would you be quiet?" Rodney complained with a quick hushing gesture, glancing about. The room was still empty. "Someone will suspect!"
"Rodney. There's no one here."
The warm tone of that "Rodney" was way too intimate for Rodney's good. He looked around, anywhere but at Sheppard, and tried to think "manly, manly," right. He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest, thinking of every spy movie he'd ever seen, raising his chin. "Yes, well. You can't be too careful."
Rodney rocked back on his heels swinging his arms, still not looking at John or thinking of John's hairy chest. He'd slept with someone who had a hairy chest. And he also had hairy -- oh, he had to get far, far away from Sheppard. He was contagiously gay. Rodney bounced a little, tapping his fist into his palm, wondering when it would be polite to leave.
"Rodney, are you okay?" A frown crossed Sheppard's face.
"No, not really," Rodney answered honestly, still waiting for his moment to make a break for it. They were having a conversation, so leaving now would be rude. Although, so was walking in on someone in the bathroom. "And you have no manners, you know that?"
Sheppard's eyebrows raised in clear surprise. Rodney rolled his eyes at the typical military short-term memory loss. He figured they issued selective memories in boot camp so the soldiers would forget they'd been traumatized. "Just waltzing in on me? In the bathroom?"
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." John dipped his head sheepishly. "I guess I didn't realize you'd be shy, you know, given the circumstances."
Rodney was sure that was a leer. He was being leered at. "Look, can we not talk about this?"
"Well," and now John leaned against the wall in an obviously-intending-to-continue manner, despite the fact that Rodney was fully prepared to claw past him. "That was sort of the whole point with the watch. Conversation."
Watch? Rodney gave him a strange look.
Then he saw it. His watch.
On John's wrist. His mind went completely blank, stunned.
April Bingham had worn his jacket home in grade eleven, and yes, he'd never gotten it back and got in trouble with his parents for "losing" it -- since there was no way he'd give his sister Jeannie that much ammo -- but April had worn it home. In front of everyone. With her trapper keeper pressed to her chest and his jacket baggy about her. She'd looked ridiculous, actually, but everyone knew that jacket was his. Losing his jacket should not have felt that good.
Now Sheppard was wearing his watch. It was an astoundingly stupid risk and he should demand that he take it off, right now, but Rodney couldn't quite close his mouth or catch his breath.
"Rodney." Sheppard snapped his fingers. "Are you with me here?"
"It's – it's okay. You can wear it. Have it, even. I've…" Rodney gestured over his shoulder vaguely, in no particular direction, and laughed. "I've got plenty of clocks, and there's one on my laptop that keeps perfect time -- I mean, of course it does, computer technology is far superior to-- but that's neither here nor there. That watch keeps Atlantis time, I'll have you know."
"Yeah, I noticed that," Sheppard said with a smile, adjusting his back against the wall, turning the watch towards him. "I tried to reset mine but couldn't get it to work."
Rodney tried to catch his breath but there wasn't enough air, not with John taking so much of it. "I--"
He fled without further comment, leaving John staring after him and back at the watch, his lips parted, eyes startled and mystified.
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no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 04:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 04:22 am (UTC)*manfully resists urge to beg for more*
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 04:30 am (UTC)I started writing this at the bus-stop after the Last Port Of Call furor, but my first draft softened the situation to make it more palatable for certain readers. I tore that section off and went back to my original, and I'm glad I did.
Icarus
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Date: 2006-08-25 04:40 am (UTC)*grins* He's containing it rather well, for Rodney.
Hmm, I hope it comes across that Rodney can't understand why he never guessed that John was gay. Though I'm not sure he's clear on any of the other reasons he's hanging around either.
Icarus
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Date: 2006-08-25 06:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 06:28 am (UTC)And then tonight I decided to read my friends friends list. And there it was.
Serendipity.
Thank you, this is wonderful.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 06:35 am (UTC)"Last Port of Call."
"Perfect," he said, still grinning.
Yeah, he knew that situation.
Icarus
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 10:36 am (UTC)Don't worry about wank, because this certainly isn't. As I've held since reading LPoC, what I was really missing was Rodney's POV more than anything else. Unusual, because it is normally John that we don't have his POV for and the story resolves when we get it. The John as oblique reflection technique. In LPoC we didn't get Rodney's perspective at the end (well a clear perspective, I know what I mean!) and so it sorta felt like it never had been resolved or ended, nothng had been resolved. Even if there probably shouldn't have to be. Still nagged :P
Even if you don't continue anymore than this, I am just happy to hear Rodney's side. His oh so confused and mystified side of things, but his nonetheless. Leaving us neatly at the end with John, who we have some idea of what he is thinking now. Plus Rodney is the utter jerk that we know him (and hell, I like him) to be. A panicking, befuddled and speechless jerk. Bless his cotton socks. Boys. :P
*beam* I feel complete, and able to cope with the gaping hole that I just know is the missing rest of the story that we won't be getting. :)
Kind of musing....
Date: 2006-08-25 12:57 pm (UTC)Seeing this, I have to agree with enname that some of the uneasy 'hanging' feeling that LPoC leaves has to do with the reader being as in the dark as John is about what's going on with Rodney. It doesn't work as a resolution, because, unlike John, the reader *does* know that John (hello, unreliable narrator!) is misreading Rodney's reactions. And I seem to recall you saying something to that effect at the time, but it took reading this for me to get it, you know?
Another thing this made me realize--I'm not sure how aware of it I was before--is that LPoC's 'dark' vibe is almost entirely to do with the reader being so deep in John's POV, sharing his dark, unpleasant thoughts, which are the sorts of things that people really do think. The thing is, they're also the sorts of things that (most) people don't say out loud. If you (generic you) take a step back and just look at John's words and actions (which is what Rodney would've seen/heard, not having access to that POV), Rodney's experience of the encounter wasn't nearly as dark as the reader's. (And there's an argument to be made that John's thoughts would've informed his behavior, but that's where you get to the part where they're all going to die and it's a rough time and Rodney's relationship with John has *never* been about tenderness and sensitivity, so I think there's a good chance that if Rodney *had* been aware of John's thoughts he wouldn't have been as upset by them as his fangirls were [including me!]....)
And I'll shut it now. Thanks again for posting this. I'd love to see more, but as it is it's a lovely little epilogue to LPoC. Now I'm reassured that my poor little woobie hasn't been permanently traumatized by big, bad John. ;-)
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 01:53 pm (UTC)When I posted the story that was my real concern, that people would catch on that it wasn't finished, that I hadn't created enough of a resolution with that final line. What happened was that it took so damned long to get a "straight" Rodney into bed that I ran out of time on the challenge and had to wrap it up after what was essentially the first couple scenes.
My betas all said the story resolved just fine, so I let it go, thinking it was just that I knew the rest. In a way I'm gld to hear that my sense of it was correct.
It's interesting that many of the people who liked the story sensed it was unfinished and asked for the rest. The people who didn't tended to assume that the story was done. I'm not sure of the relationship between those two facts: if one thought the story was done, being shut out of Rodney's POV was frustrating and therefore one disliked it? Or if one didn't like the story, one didn't notice the story wasn't done?
I think Last Port Of Call is an unusual story because we get both John's conscious and unconscious thoughts. The stuff he really thinks and the emotional flotsam and jetsam he'd never admit and tends to push away.
I'm not sure I succeeded in doing the same thing with Rodney's POV here. Though I did notice that while John tends to have his mood creep in and taint his thought patterns, Rodney is highly distractable. His mind bounces from point to point (we saw this in "Letters From Pegasus"). I'm not sure if I could go as deeply into Rodney's POV and still end up with a coherent story: he just doesn't have John's singlemindedness.
With John, the moodiness goes both ways. When things are going well he feels very positive about people. Hmm. It would be kind of fun to go there.
I wrote Last Port as a comment-fic to
Icarus
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Date: 2006-08-25 01:59 pm (UTC)You know, I tried to write the ending of Last Port Of Call in such a way that it wrapped up as a complete story, even though I knew there was more to it. (I ran out of time on the challenge because man it was hard to get Rodney into bed.)
Looks like I didn't fool anybody. But Last Port is supposed to stand on its own. :)
Icarus
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Date: 2006-08-25 02:27 pm (UTC)I am not sure that it felt incomplete because of the last line alone. What felt unresolved was in some ways the whole idea. Being a LPoC in such a high tension situation, which if they did (and we know they did) survive they would have to keep living with each other afterwards. Ramifications. Rodney was not a LPoC in as much as a beginning. Plus the very fact that we could see all sides of John's thoughts, and get that he was doing some major repressing there (I thought that came across quite clearly) sort of played into the idea that he would either realise, or at least have to deal with this in the future. The future being the rest of the story.
So whilst the story resolved fine, it just read as an outtake from something a lot larger making that last bit seem ... well cliff hangery almost. Even when it could also be read as just a 'and go use your own imagination...'.
I think LPoC is an unusual story because we get John's thoughts, rather than just using him as a means to filter reactions and events. Usually we just tend to get his unconscious thoughts, or have someone else view him and so we have to put the pieces together from his actions. You named that which shalt not be named. :P My favourite part had to be that dual stream he had going. The one that makes you want to smack him for being an arse and for being a stupid arse at that.
Hey, I am not into non-con of any flavour so the fact that I read it and had a favourite parts is a pretty good sign :P Then again there is a difference between well written and argh...
Which makes me think that in some ways people who didn't like it were not liking it because they didn't have the reassurance of Rodney's POV to say that he was ok. By thinking it ended there it can be read as something a lot darker than semi consensual sex. Whereas perhaps if they had had this *points up* there would have been a collective sigh of relief. Which only goes towards my point that it was the entire narrative and story flow that remained unresolved. Not self contained enough for the short that it was posted as. Lord knows I got to the bottom of the page and sort of thumped the table in frustration because there was no more. Damnit :P
Rodney of the bouncy mind. I think going that deeply into a Rodney POV would make us all dizzy trying to keep up with him. Not to mention you. You'd have to have him a lot more surface perspective I think and almost certainly interacting with people otherwise, as much as I love physics, there are times where it does need to stop. Here however, I did manage to work out what he was avoiding thinking of especially at the beginning when he is tethered to one train of thought. John talking to him? Brain lashes out, although because he was spazzing over one particular person (object and thing) it was easy enough to assume what his problem was. Polar opposite to John.
Still, I think you'd need to find a way to balance out John just because of how unreliable a narrator he is. We need the other narration perspectives to remind us of this. Also to show just how unreliable they are as well.
*g* Yeah segments would work. Easy enough to flip between scenes that way.
Dear lord, how long has this comment gotten? *gawp*
*gives Out of Bounds a good solid kick for you*
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 07:21 pm (UTC)I especially like :
Although he definitely likes the curves pressed up against him and the way his hair stylist’s breast used to brush his back
because it adds realism.
Rodney had had more sexual harassment complaints filed against him than any other staff member at Area 51, a record he regarded with a mixture of embarrassment and pride, although really-? He was just caught more often, that’s all. Casual Fridays were a nightmare, especially in Nevada.
because I can definitely see Rodney in this (especially after that look he gave Carter in the Pegasus Project when he told her of her being half-naked in the puddle jumper).
I don't really know what Casual Fridays are, but I can deduce it from the 'especially in Nevada' part. ;)
He always got lost somewhere between the cleavage and the hips
because I just like the sentence and the imagery. And because I've frequently been lost there myself. :D
Plus women never forgot to refill the coffee pot.
ROTFLMAO. :D
and
He'd slept with someone who had a hairy chest.
Because, hell yeah, that's how I'd feel if I'd sleep with a guy!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 07:44 pm (UTC)I don't really know what Casual Fridays are, but I can deduce it from the 'especially in Nevada' part. ;)
I think you have it -- it's a U.S. tradition where you can wear casual clothes on Fridays, notorious for people going a bit too far. (Think halter tops.)
And because I've frequently been lost there myself. :D
Ha!
He'd slept with someone who had a hairy chest.
Because, hell yeah, that's how I'd feel if I'd sleep with a guy!
And John? Has a very hairy chest. Rodney probably still has the vivid memory of that hair pressing against his back.
Icarus
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 07:52 pm (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 08:06 pm (UTC)That's what I loved about the story, was John having to put sooo much effort into something he thinks is easy (easy enough, anyway).
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 10:22 pm (UTC)I will stand by what I said last night, that whatever or however much you wanted to write was fine but a small part of me is hoping very strongly that your writing genius continues to poke at you with this one. For me its just right on the money and always has been.
Lexstar
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 10:32 pm (UTC)I love how everything's kind of awkward between them while we still get a sense of the shared affection. Here's hoping you do feel like continuing this storyline at some point—these are versions of John and Rodney that I'd like to see more of.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-25 11:09 pm (UTC)Wrapped in a towel John stepped into his room. Rodney's watch was still on the floor next to the bed -- an expensive one with all sorts of functions and extra buttons. John picked up his radio and adjusted it over his ear as he dressed.
"Gee Rodney, I'm wounded. Really." John phrased it carefully for the open channel as he buttoned his shirt. "I didn't think the movie was all that bad."
He put on Rodney's watch like a trophy, noting Rodney had programmed it to reflect Atlantis' 26-hour cycle, no mean feat. John had fought with his own for hours before he gave it up. He added dryly, "I'll have you know I have a hostage and you're not getting it back until we at least chat. Contact me to negotiate terms of release."
But Rodney had left his headset behind and so never heard John.
I like the slightly grimy aspects of their characters. Thanks for an interesting read. Wonder if this story will make for as much discussion as LPoC.
Thank you, I sort of doubt that it will. First, this is in my LJ while Last Port was posted to the very public sga_flashfic. Second, the reason for the intensity circled largely on protecting Rodney. This probably would shift that sense, hearing Rodney's feelings on the matter.
Icarus
no subject
Date: 2006-08-26 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-26 12:04 am (UTC)Seriously, good fic of the "Whoa, they're kind of messed up" variety. Which can be interesting! I mean, let's be honest, facing imminent death or battle in a week or so is *not* going to necessarily make people on their best behavior or in the most perceptive frame of mind. Neither of them really understood what they were getting into, and while they stand alone, I do find myself asking "...And then?".
no subject
Date: 2006-08-26 12:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-26 02:19 am (UTC)I suspect that is very true. This sort of confirms my personal reading of the LPoC, that Rodney isn't a victim in it. Because LPoC is all John, some readers who see Rodney as a woobie/victim/secretly oh-so-sensitive girl with a dick were outraged. I tend to think Rodney is just as much a guy, and just as likely to grab at that last chance for sex opportunity.
And wouldn't it be sad, Rodney thought happily, if the vaunted leader of the military, the one everyone wanted, was forced to be celibate? He smirked. He had a new vision of Chaya's visit to savor, one where she learned the truth and then left like a bat out of hell as Sheppard chased her in a jumper to apologize. Rodney chuckled to himself.
That's Rodney: more than a little petty, still stewing over Chaya, very likely to say something at just the wrong moment, in public, while trying to lord it over Sheppard with this new leverage. This snippet shows Rodney's less saintly side with the reflection on sexual harassment complaints and the faintly smug reflection that he know's Sheppard's 'secret'.
He has his little freak-out, but he's not really regretting it, is he? And he's certainly not some pale, pining maiden deflowered by a marauding knight.
Also, I'm friending your journal. If you don't like it, tell me to lump it. *g*