2. Night
-
When you have come to the edge of all the light that you know
and are about to drop off into the darkness of the unknown,
Faith is knowing one of two things will happen:
There will be something solid to stand on
or you will be taught to fly.
-Patrick Overton
-
The evening came quietly, darkness fell over Atlantis as the night approached on wings of gentian blue.
It was truly a spectacular sunset, a supernova of hues colouring the darkening sky and reflecting magnificently in the ocean.
Rodney would have loved this sunset.
Few knew that the scientist used to sneak out sometimes, with the ever-present cup of steaming hot coffee and a power bar or two, to sit on this very same balcony and watch the sunset. John had once caught him by surprise, and had shared as many sunsets as he had possibly could since then. It was a way to unwind after a mission, to talk out any misconceptions between them, to strengthen their bond as friends.
And, as he was standing at the railing, peering at the fading rays of an alien sun, he could imagine Rodney sitting behind him, installed comfortably in one of the loungers they had smuggled up there, virtually purring as he sipped his coffee and munched on his snack.
He could stretch luxuriously any time now, and discard the comfy warmth of his thick wool blanket to stand quietly beside John in the chill of the last ray of daylight.
The, he would effectively break the magic of the moment by yawning and muttering about getting back to work. And before he would strut away, he would in his typical circumvent and people-awkward way wish the major a good night rest and casually would hint as to when he might come to enjoy another sunset-watch.
But this time, the last light died and no one came to stand next to him. John glanced back at the empty lounger, and the emptiness in his heart became once more overwhelming. He then looked down, to the waves breaking at the foot of the tower. If the fall alone didn't kill him, the wave break certainly would.
To be taken by the waves. A poetic ending for a surfer.
Much less violent than being electrocuted by an energy-sucking darkness. Much quicker than having your brain being gnawed on by hundreds of miniature robots.
No one had ever complimented Rodney for being brave, probably thinking the self-centred scientist made more than up for that by congratulating himself very verbosely. They hadn't understood it had only made him more insecure about himself and his place in the expedition. Even when his heroics became ever more foolishly, no one had bothered to verbally and explicitly affirm his invaluable contribution. Sure, Elizabeth always told him 'good job!', Ford would give him a pat him on the back, Teyla would give him her special smile, Zelenka's eyes would gleam proudly, Beckett would do the mother-hen fussing.
He, John, would give him his trademark crooked grin, and joke the stress and danger away, unwittingly minimizing the whole experience.
They all assumed Rodney would understand the non-vocal expressions of their pride and gratitude.
But Rodney probably never really had.
They all knew he was socially challenged, to put it mildly, but John was probably the only one who had the slightest inkling it was due to the horrible childhood his best friend had suffered. Hurt and betrayal had turned him away from other people, and ultimately given him the impression he could only rely on himself. His own insecurities had long been deeply buried underneath thick shields of arrogance, and by focussing on himself, he had never really learned to interpret other people's projected emotions.
Yet every time Rodney had opened to John just a little, John had pulled away fast, because it brought back painful memories of his own past he was unwilling to revisit. Only now did he realize how much the rejection must have hurt Rodney. Now he realized a lot of things. Now that it was too late…
Night had fallen almost completely, but the darkness that had settled in his heart was much darker. The waves called to him, tempting him like a beautiful siren with their breaking voices.
He swung his legs over the railing.
Swaying his legs slightly, he kept his balance mostly by gripping the railing with numb hands.
It would be so easy to let go.
Easy like the flip of a coin that had once decided to send him to this fascinating new world. Maybe now the time had come to follow the coin's other side…
Elizabeth had worriedly admonished him many times about his seemingly suicidal tendencies in the face of danger. Little did she know how many times he had genuinely hoped to die, honourably and heroically, yes, but still end his life in a way he chose to.
Rodney, however, had slowly started to change his ideas on the topic. At their very first meeting, Rodney had unknowingly sparked a memory John had buried deep in his scarred soul, and had over time brought back feelings John thought he could never possess again.
The love for a brother. The kind of unconditional protectiveness, devotion, tenderness and understanding that is the most precious jewel a family can have.
A deep bond that can be stretched and bend fiercely, but will never break.
That John thought could never break.
And that had now been broken for the second time, when he had lost another brother.
One lonely tear escaped his tight control.
He couldn't return to that lonely realm of despair and anguish anymore. He couldn't live with the blame of having killed the one who had saved his own life…
He swallowed convulsively. They always told him he was brave, yet right now he was contemplating the coward way out.
Rodney had far more courage than John. Rodney had stared death in the face many a time before, and had never looked away. Sure, he would ramble and snark and whine and panic, but in the end he would never ever just give up.
A sudden wind rustled the leaves of the plant on the balcony behind him. A chill crept along his spine.
And shame washed over John.
Rodney would be ranting like mad at him if he was there, huffing about dim-witted, self-depreciating air force goons with ridiculous abandonment issues, who were too cowardly to see how important they were in other people's lives.
'I'm not the centre of the universe, Major, although -of course- I play an undeniably important part in it, but there are other people around you who would be very hurt if they would have to scrape your ungrateful but off the foot of this tower. Not to mention the fact that they would need you to occasionally pull off the crazy stuff no one else is insane enough of doing, especially since I'm no longer around to provide them with ingenious plans that would offer a more comfortable and less adrenaline-consuming alternative.'
John quickly clambered back to the safety of the balcony, effectively quieting down his 'inner Rodney voice' a bit. Not that he would get it to shut up completely. Not that he would want it, either. It was comforting to keep some part of Rodney alive, even if only in his own mind.
His resolve had returned.
He would honour Rodney's memory, by trying his damnest to stay alive as long as he could, no matter what Fate threw at him.
And like there was now one tiny star visible in the night time sky, there was a spark kindling in his heart.
He looked back at the lounger and retrieved the haphazardly tossed aside blanket. He knew it was a bright red, but night had stolen most of the colour. Rubbing the soft fabric with his thumb, he noticed it smelled like coffee and the vague scent of aftershave.
And suddenly, he didn't feel so alone anymore.
He could almost hear Rodney's voice wishing him 'good night' and 'see you tomorrow'.
And he whispered into the darkness: "Sleep peacefully, Rodney, we will take care of your work."
John took one last lingering look at the small star before turning to the doors, still clutching the blanket close. "See you tomorrow…"
Tomorrow, a new dawn would break.