Word Count:
1,579
Rating: PG
Category: PWP. Family.
Story Status: Complete
Summary: John's POV - about stagazing and
astronomers. Starts Pre-Atlantis, goes through Season 2
& 3.
WARNING: Spoilers for 'Tao of Rodney'.
Author's Notes:
Written for Tipper's
Poem Challege.
Beta:
Thank you to Jayne Perry for
the beta-reading.
Astronomer: Past and Present
By Leesa Perrie
----------------
When I Heard
the Learn'd Astronomer
by
Walt Whitman
When I heard the learn'd
astronomer,
When the proofs, the
figures, were ranged in columns
before me,
When I was shown the
charts and diagrams, to add, divide,
and measure them,
When I sitting heard the
astronomer where he lectured
with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I
became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding
out I wander'd off by myself,
In the mystical moist
night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect
silence at the stars.
----------------
The Long Ago Past
When I was in college there was an astronomer, world famous within his
field, and he was invited to do a series of lectures that were open to
anyone. I wasn’t studying physics, but I had always
loved
the stars, and for once in my life thought I should find out more about
them. So I went to the first lecture.
He reduced the stars and planets and universe down to figures and
charts and diagrams. I followed the math, no problem, not
that I
would have admitted that to anyone. Long ago I had learnt to
hide
my intelligence, my ability, behind the easy-go-lucky mask, the party
goer, the cool dude, the one who everyone loved to hang out
with.
It was easier that way. Better. Less lonely.
So that wasn’t the problem. I could understand it
all. No, the problem wasn’t with any of
that. But as
I listened to him, the mystery of the vast blackness of space, the
wonder of the stars that shone and the beauty of the night sky all
faded, and I didn’t like it. It felt wrong.
So I slipped out, glad I had taken a seat at the back, and wandered out
into the night.
As I walked back to my dorm, I glanced up from time to time, seeing the
stars despite the campus lights, trying to recapture the magic, the
mystery, the wonder. Before I reached my dorm, I changed my
destination, and took my car, driving out into the countryside, as far
from the city lights as I could. Finding a place to stop, I
placed a blanket on the ground and laid down, staring up into the night
sky.
The stars were brighter here, and as I gazed at them in silence, the
world righted itself.
You see, as much as I loved math, and even science, though to a lesser
degree, there was more to life than that. Much
more. And I
had to wonder if this famous astronomer, this learned man, still felt
that childlike awe when he looked at the stars. Or was it
just
names and figures and hard facts? For his sake, I hoped it
was
more than that.
I made a promise to myself that night, under the stars. No
matter
what I did or where I went, I would hold onto that wonder, and maybe,
one day, I could pass it on to someone who needed it as much, or even
more, than I.
The Not So Long Ago Past
(Post Siege Part Three)
It was after the Siege that I first dragged McKay’s
too-wired-can’t-sleep-but-on-the-verge-of-collapse sorry ass
up
here. He was exhausted after days without much, if any,
sleep. Weeks, in fact, of too little sleep, too much coffee,
too
many stimulants. I knew he would crash, and crash hard, but
despite nearly falling asleep on the floor after getting the ZPM
working, until reminded that there were still Wraith in the city (Teyla
told me about that, worried about McKay’s level of
exhaustion),
now he couldn’t seem to relax.
I knew Carson was on the verge of corralling McKay in the infirmary and
pumping him full of the strongest sedative he could find, but more
drugs didn’t seem like a good idea to me, so I dragged his
sorry,
complaining ass up here instead.
Here was a balcony right near to the top of one of the
towers. It
was as high as you could go in the city and be able to go outside, and,
more importantly, the view of the sky wasn’t marred by
anything
overhanging it. I had come here more than once since arriving
in
Atlantis, and had found it an ideal place to lay down a blanket and
watch the stars. Of course, the mainland would have been
better;
less light pollution, but I wasn’t about to drag Rodney over
there, even if I could get permission to do so.
The third time I had come up here, I had grabbed a mattress from a
spare room. Yeah, I know, if anyone had seen me hauling a
mattress about they’d have thought I was off my rocker, or
else
up to no good. That’s why I had chosen the middle
of the
night, and had a life signs detector to help me avoid
detection.
A couple of blankets had followed. And a pillow.
Hey, may
as well be comfortable as I perused the night sky, and if I
occasionally ended up sleeping out here, on milder nights, so what?
McKay had grumbled, moaned and bitched, but he’d come with
me. Not telling him what I wanted to show him had annoyed
him,
intensely, but had also piqued his curiosity, as I’d known it
would. That, and the promise of sharing the last of my candy
store with him, later, was enough for him to follow.
I told him to lie down on the mattress, and no, I wasn’t
about to
steal his virtue, I wasn’t any more that way inclined than he
himself was (which wasn’t at all), and, hey, didn’t
stealing his virtue suggest he was a virgin still? Something
he’d hotly denied in a huff.
So I simply pointed out that he couldn’t see what
I’d
brought him here to see if he didn’t lie down.
Grumbling
and clearly unhappy, he did as he was told, and wasn’t that a
minor miracle in itself?
At first he didn’t get it. Stars were just stars,
and he
knew all about stars. And yeah, of course he did.
He was
like that astronomer, only smarter and more knowledgeable about, oh,
all sorts of things (everything, if you listened to his blurb), but not
seeing what I wanted him to see. Or, more like, not feeling
what
I wanted him to feel.
So I told him about the astronomer, about my reaction, about the wonder
of it all. He listened, interrupting from time to time, as is
his
way, annoying as it is. But he listened, nonetheless.
But he didn’t really get it. He understood what I
was
saying, but he didn’t feel it. Couldn’t
feel
it. Too much the scientist, I suppose, and I felt sad for him.
I let him talk, then. And he talked, about space, about
planets,
about stars. I listened, and unlike before, the sense of
childlike awe remained. He didn’t steal it from me,
like
the one all those years before almost had. In fact, he added
to
it. Don’t ask me how, I still can’t
explain it.
Eventually, he slept, and I kept watch. Over him, over
Atlantis, under the stars.
The Present
(Post ‘Tao of
Rodney McKay’)
I couldn’t find McKay at first, and I’d looked in
all the
normal places. The mess hall, the labs, the control room, his
quarters, even the infirmary, because you just never knew with McKay.
I didn’t want to call him over the radio. It
wasn’t
like it was important, I’d just wanted to check up on
him.
Yeah, I know, Rodney’s a big boy and can look after himself,
but
having come so close, so very, very, scarily close to losing him, I
felt the need to check on him. Call it what you will;
checking up
on a valuable member of staff; looking out for a team-mate; being there
for a friend. I knew what it was; and what it was, was making
sure he was still alive, and still here.
Not that I would ever admit that out loud. Not my
style. I
would never let him know that I thought of him as family. And
I
truly hope that Teyla’s never mentioned the family thing to
him
either.
I sighed. Okay, so he wasn’t where I expected him
to be, and I didn’t want to radio him, so…
So I decided not to be such a worry wart, telling myself to grow up,
get over it, he was alive and not going anywhere anytime soon.
And then I headed to the balcony for a bit of star watching, hoping to
distract myself from worries about my annoying, irritating and
not-to-be-found team-mate (and friend).
He was there, lying on the mattress, well, on one of them.
And
just when did the second mattress and pillow, not to mention extra
blankets, appear? They weren’t here last week, I
was
certain of that.
I approached silently, in case he was asleep. But no worries
there, he was awake.
“I get it now,” he said quietly. Okay, so
I hadn’t been approaching that silently it would seem.
“Get what?” I asked, truly curious.
“This,” he waved a hand upwards.
“The stars, the night sky, the…wonder.”
He looked at me then, and I could see it in his eyes.
Finally, he understood it.
I laid down on the second mattress to one side of him.
“Cool,” was all I said.
And smiled.
