Chapter Text
The other game Rodney played, only one time, went like this:
Radek: A clear glass bottle, filled with electric blue liquid that frothed and fizzed when Rodney shook it.
Teyla: Smooth, honey-colored wooden oval, flat on the bottom and warm, smelling like a forest after rain.
Ronon: A silver, thick-edged bowl, veined with delicate filaments of ice blue and white.
Daniel: A flat square tablet, bronze, rubbed smooth and gold at the corners.
Jennifer: A white egg, speckled with orange.
Madison: Flat, bright yellow plastic shaped like a flying bird.
Jeannie: A metal, multi-pointed golden star, each point sharp enough to draw blood.
Caleb: Spongy, light red cube.
Teal'c: A black iron cylinder, rough against his fingertips.
Mitchell: A green and yellow koosh ball that smelled like lemons.
Vala: A black, velveteen ribbon.
Sam: A translucent cube, like ice or glass, glowing with a bright white light.
Rodney looked at them all, scattered around his desk. There were too many for the coffee tin.
He wrapped Jeannie, Madison and Caleb, and put them in a package, neatly writing his sister's name and address on the outside, and put it into his out box. Sam, Daniel, Mitchell, Vala and Teal'c went into an inter-departmental envelope, which he labeled 'SG1'. After that there was enough room in the tin, so he added the rest of the names and put it back on the shelf. He sat down again.
"Elizabeth," Rodney said softly. "Carson."
Copper, shaped like an open flower, wet to the touch and with a scent of ash. And a blue crystal circle that shimmered when the light hit it. Rodney held them, feeling the textures, the weight of the names in his hand, and then he found two more boxes and wrapped them as well. He didn't know the names of Carson's or Elizabeth's mothers, but he was sure someone at the SGC did.
He hoped it was an appropriate gesture. He wished he had someone there, like Sam or Teyla, to tell him.
The Apollo hadn't returned from Pegasus yet. Maybe when it arrived he'd send the other names back. They looked kind of nice; maybe the people he'd named would like them. Rodney wondered if John had liked his name, though Rodney didn't really know why he'd sent it to him. Next time he'd write an email, he promised himself. Something long, with lots of details and anecdotes. John would probably enjoy that. It was just so hard to find the time, and nothing here ever changed.
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