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trinityofone*sigh* I need to stop wangsting about this and just post it. I'm sorry it's not more exciting, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tardis80.
Comment fic the fourth:
Title: A Monologue for Two Voices
Prequel to: Dæmonology
Rating: PG
Length: ~950 words
Summary:tardis80 wanted something about Rodney and faith or Rodney and Tyk. This is both.
A/N: Will really make no sense unless you’ve read Dæmonology. Which you should do? [/pathetic attempt to self-pimp]
A Monologue for Two Voices
Tykallita was eating Cheerios; Rodney was thinking deep thoughts.
“Can I have some?” Rodney asked. Tyk rolled a couple Os in his direction, pushing with her nose. She wondered if she could come up with a more efficient way to move the Cheerios; maybe if she threaded them on her tail...?
They were in their room, on their bed: Rodney sprawled out on his back and Tyk beside him with her little pile of whole grain-goodness. It was the middle of the night and they were supposed to be sleeping, and if they were not sleeping, then they ought to be working. Instead they were caught in some sort of limbo state, restless and worried, heads too full and bellies not full enough.
It was their third night in Atlantis.
Tyk nibbled on a Cheerio. She could feel the anxiousness radiating off her human in waves, but she knew he would talk when he was ready. Or if need be, she would make him talk. But not yet. Not now.
Except suddenly he said, “I think I have to do it, Tyk.”
She stopped chewing, put the piece of cereal down. Her claws dug into the unfamiliar mattress as she scrambled the few inches over to Rodney, and into the hand he had waiting for her. He picked her up and placed her on his chest, pushing his shoulders back against the pillows so that he could get a proper view of her. The angle gave her a view directly up his nose, but she didn’t mind. She’d seen all sides of him by now.
Then her whiskers twitched, as she wondered if that were really true. There might be more to see, yet.
“I think I have to,” he said. “Carson says it’ll work, and...”
“Do you trust him?” Tykallita asked.
Rodney shifted uncomfortably. Tyk took a step forward and nudged his thumb with her nose, slipping under his fingers, encouraging him to stroke. He sighed: a long, slow release of breath. “Well, I don’t think he’s intentionally trying to kill me,” he said.
Tyk emitted a mousy snort. “Soelle is nervous all the time,” she said. “She’s so jumpy.”
“She’s a toad,” Rodney pointed out.
“I know,” Tyk said, like that explained everything. As far as she was concerned, it did.
“So,” Rodney said, following her, “you’re saying that Soelle isn’t convinced the gene therapy will work? Or that if it doesn’t, that it’ll at least be harmless?”
Tyk nodded. “Oh, great,” said Rodney. “That’s not what Carson said at all!”
In fairness, “He wasn’t trying to mislead you,” Tykallita admitted.
“I know!” Rodney said, pulling his hand away from Tyk’s back and running it over his hair. “If he were, that would be one thing, but...” The hand fell limply to his side. “Fuck.”
“You don’t know what to do,” Tyk said.
“You don’t know what to do,” Rodney replied.
“No.” She crept up his shoulder, nuzzled into his neck. Pressed against his jugular, she could feel the rapid beating of his heart: too fast, too fast.
“Sheppard,” he said suddenly.
Her nose twitched. “What?”
“You know, the Major. The one who made the chair light up”--this last said reverently.
“Oh,” said Tykallita. “You mean the one with the snake.”
“Yes!” said Rodney, and then, rather curiously: “What’s her name?”
“I don’t know,” said Tyk. Something about the snake dæmon frightened her.
Rodney snapped his fingers, a habit she’d never been able to break him of. “Find out for me.”
“Okay,” said Tyk; she had more important things to do, but maybe she’d get around to it eventually. “But what does Sheppard have to do with anything?”
“He has the gene." And there was that tone again. She wished she could be scornful, but she wanted it for him, too: so badly, almost as much as he wanted it for himself.
But she controlled herself. “Duh,” she said. “Did you have a point? At all?”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “He’s the reason I have to do it! I can’t have him outshining me, can I? With his ancient gene and his rescue operations and his ‘seven hundred and twenty.’ I have to level the playing field! Not that the playing field can ever really be level when you have an intellect like mine, but--”
“Rodney,” Tyk interrupted firmly.
“Yes? What?”
She sighed. “Jealousy is very unbecoming.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “So’s fear.”
There was nothing she could say to that. There was only one thing she could say to that. She padded back to his chest, crouched on her hind paws, looked him in the eye. “I think you should do it,” she said.
Rodney scooped her up, raised her to his face. “As you’ll recall, that’s what I said in the first place.”
He put her down, cleared the Cheerios away. She plopped down on the pillow and lay waiting for him. He crawled in next to her: slow movements, heavy sighs. “We should try to sleep,” he said, yawning. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to stop even more idiots from accidentally plunging us back into the ocean with their complete ignorance of the technology and their juvenile horsing around.”
“We will, though,” she said.
“Yes.”
“We’re smarter than all of them,” she said.
He grinned. “Yes.”
After a while, too long a time in which his breathing didn’t slow and neither did hers, she said, “You still don’t trust him, do you?”
Rodney let out a breath. “No,” he admitted. “But I trust you.”
Tykallita nodded, a tiny movement in the dark. It would have to be enough. For now, it would be enough.
*************
tardis80.Comment fic the fourth:
Title: A Monologue for Two Voices
Prequel to: Dæmonology
Rating: PG
Length: ~950 words
Summary:
tardis80 wanted something about Rodney and faith or Rodney and Tyk. This is both.A/N: Will really make no sense unless you’ve read Dæmonology. Which you should do? [/pathetic attempt to self-pimp]
A Monologue for Two Voices
Tykallita was eating Cheerios; Rodney was thinking deep thoughts.
“Can I have some?” Rodney asked. Tyk rolled a couple Os in his direction, pushing with her nose. She wondered if she could come up with a more efficient way to move the Cheerios; maybe if she threaded them on her tail...?
They were in their room, on their bed: Rodney sprawled out on his back and Tyk beside him with her little pile of whole grain-goodness. It was the middle of the night and they were supposed to be sleeping, and if they were not sleeping, then they ought to be working. Instead they were caught in some sort of limbo state, restless and worried, heads too full and bellies not full enough.
It was their third night in Atlantis.
Tyk nibbled on a Cheerio. She could feel the anxiousness radiating off her human in waves, but she knew he would talk when he was ready. Or if need be, she would make him talk. But not yet. Not now.
Except suddenly he said, “I think I have to do it, Tyk.”
She stopped chewing, put the piece of cereal down. Her claws dug into the unfamiliar mattress as she scrambled the few inches over to Rodney, and into the hand he had waiting for her. He picked her up and placed her on his chest, pushing his shoulders back against the pillows so that he could get a proper view of her. The angle gave her a view directly up his nose, but she didn’t mind. She’d seen all sides of him by now.
Then her whiskers twitched, as she wondered if that were really true. There might be more to see, yet.
“I think I have to,” he said. “Carson says it’ll work, and...”
“Do you trust him?” Tykallita asked.
Rodney shifted uncomfortably. Tyk took a step forward and nudged his thumb with her nose, slipping under his fingers, encouraging him to stroke. He sighed: a long, slow release of breath. “Well, I don’t think he’s intentionally trying to kill me,” he said.
Tyk emitted a mousy snort. “Soelle is nervous all the time,” she said. “She’s so jumpy.”
“She’s a toad,” Rodney pointed out.
“I know,” Tyk said, like that explained everything. As far as she was concerned, it did.
“So,” Rodney said, following her, “you’re saying that Soelle isn’t convinced the gene therapy will work? Or that if it doesn’t, that it’ll at least be harmless?”
Tyk nodded. “Oh, great,” said Rodney. “That’s not what Carson said at all!”
In fairness, “He wasn’t trying to mislead you,” Tykallita admitted.
“I know!” Rodney said, pulling his hand away from Tyk’s back and running it over his hair. “If he were, that would be one thing, but...” The hand fell limply to his side. “Fuck.”
“You don’t know what to do,” Tyk said.
“You don’t know what to do,” Rodney replied.
“No.” She crept up his shoulder, nuzzled into his neck. Pressed against his jugular, she could feel the rapid beating of his heart: too fast, too fast.
“Sheppard,” he said suddenly.
Her nose twitched. “What?”
“You know, the Major. The one who made the chair light up”--this last said reverently.
“Oh,” said Tykallita. “You mean the one with the snake.”
“Yes!” said Rodney, and then, rather curiously: “What’s her name?”
“I don’t know,” said Tyk. Something about the snake dæmon frightened her.
Rodney snapped his fingers, a habit she’d never been able to break him of. “Find out for me.”
“Okay,” said Tyk; she had more important things to do, but maybe she’d get around to it eventually. “But what does Sheppard have to do with anything?”
“He has the gene." And there was that tone again. She wished she could be scornful, but she wanted it for him, too: so badly, almost as much as he wanted it for himself.
But she controlled herself. “Duh,” she said. “Did you have a point? At all?”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “He’s the reason I have to do it! I can’t have him outshining me, can I? With his ancient gene and his rescue operations and his ‘seven hundred and twenty.’ I have to level the playing field! Not that the playing field can ever really be level when you have an intellect like mine, but--”
“Rodney,” Tyk interrupted firmly.
“Yes? What?”
She sighed. “Jealousy is very unbecoming.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “So’s fear.”
There was nothing she could say to that. There was only one thing she could say to that. She padded back to his chest, crouched on her hind paws, looked him in the eye. “I think you should do it,” she said.
Rodney scooped her up, raised her to his face. “As you’ll recall, that’s what I said in the first place.”
He put her down, cleared the Cheerios away. She plopped down on the pillow and lay waiting for him. He crawled in next to her: slow movements, heavy sighs. “We should try to sleep,” he said, yawning. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to stop even more idiots from accidentally plunging us back into the ocean with their complete ignorance of the technology and their juvenile horsing around.”
“We will, though,” she said.
“Yes.”
“We’re smarter than all of them,” she said.
He grinned. “Yes.”
After a while, too long a time in which his breathing didn’t slow and neither did hers, she said, “You still don’t trust him, do you?”
Rodney let out a breath. “No,” he admitted. “But I trust you.”
Tykallita nodded, a tiny movement in the dark. It would have to be enough. For now, it would be enough.
*************
