Title: Writing Pain
Author: Childe Of Darkness/ Satanshavenchilde
Category: Slash, Angst, Short fic, Un'beta'd.(yes I know)
Rating: M(just because of the content. No actual slashy scenes)
Pairing; John/Rodney
Synopsis: What do you think is the worst kind of pain?
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Character Death. Yep a big one. Also, kinda ways torture but not to the characters.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the actors, writers, the show of Stargate Atlantis. I am just writing
an act of fanfiction for my enjoyment and hopefully someone else out there. No harm is meant toward this. Remember
people, it's fake. I still have Mental Healths address if it's needed. Pretell hopefully not. It's Holiday season.
WRITING PAIN
Could you believe I have become this thing I have despised my entire life. My brilliance is lost in the waives of the pain that has shuttered
throughout each pore of my body. The pain sinking so deep into my soul, I can only hope to ever find a way to be free again
A question running through my mind never letting me settled.
The Question every time someone looks at me I can see that they want to ask me
Question??? Pain???
I write it down on the paper on my desk.
Just what do you think is the worst kind of pain someone can feel before they fall in deep over the
edge: Falling forever into a bottomless abyss?
One thought: Could it be a bullet wound in the heart at close range, say by a high powered rifle?
Or could a 5inch thick sliver of a cutting blade slowly pushing it's way through your flesh to dig deep
into your gut be the worst kind of pain one could ever imagine.
I look up from my list and watch the clock for a while. As the time slowly goes bye, my mind lost gets lost the hells I have seen.
The hells that have brought me down to what I am at this very moment.
What is the worst kind of pain someone can feel?
I turn my eyes away from the clock and stare down at the writing utensil in my hand. I'm not at my laptop typing away. No, I'm here writing.
He would laugh if he saw me now. I smile as I look at the black inked pen with logo on it that was given as a birthday gift to me.
It was suppose to be a joke, one since he said he's never seen me actually use a pen. Said I was married to my laptop and two we had that stupid
fight about that special effects of this movie. I still say the movie's effects were a pure excuse and the seventies version was much better.
No clue how he came across this, but I will forever cherish it like I will forever cherish him.
Back to the writing.
What is the worst kind someone can feel?
Could it be a Wraith slowly stealing your life away year bye year within less then a few minutes?
Or well listening to the incompetent idiots I work with...
Scratch that off.
"Writing is good for the soul, Rodney. You just lost someone you cared for greatly. Write down your feelings. I'm not saying the pain will go
away with the first sentence. Nor will it go away with the last, I'm just saying you need a tunnel for your venting.Your angry with the world. Don't
take it out on your friends. They loved him too. Just try this. Please..."
She begged, pleaded with him. He refused to see Kate. So Elizabeth tried her best to get him to talk to her. He refused, but some of what she said
did click and that's why: Rodney sits in his room locked away from the outside world, writing.
Pain?
A hang nail.
A paper cut.
Running out of KY. He laughs for a moment at that memory.
Trying to fit into one of John's t-shirts. Never would he do that again, remembering how smurf like his skin color turned.
He shakes his head. He got off track.
He starts writing again...
Pain?
Having your home taking away from you.
Having your colleagues laugh at the nobody they think you are
Having the man you love die when you were fighting. Never getting to say I'm sorry. It was my fault. Never getting to hold him
in your arms again, kiss him, make love to him.
Pain??
Pain is loss. Loss of the truest love one will ever find. The light in the darkest tunnel. The smile on even Mr. Scrooge's face.
That is the true definition of pain.
Placing the pen down, Rodney glances back to the clock and makes up his mind.
Speaking into his head piece.
"Elizabeth... Can we talk..."