Hindsight, by Rageprufrock
Aug. 16th, 2005 06:08 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
the-moonmoth.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
the_comfy_chairI think this community is a terrific idea, but I haven't seen anything come out of it so far so I thought I'd give it a go. Please bear in mind that I haven't written this kind of analysis in many years, and I was never much good at it then. So, on that confident note...
Link: Hindsight, by Rageprufrock
Summary: discussion of the characterisations in the above story
The story is an AU, in which John never joined the Air Force, becoming instead an FBI agent. Rodney's history up to the point where the story begins seems unchanged. Then one day in Colorado, Rodney discovers a bomb in his car, and John is subsequently called to the scene. That's how they meet, and the story goes from there.
The thing about AU's that has always attracted my interest is the characterisations. They really need to be spot-on if the characters are to be removed from the familiarity of their usual surroundings. On the first read, my opinion was that Pru had wholeheartedly succeeded in this. On the second read, I tried to be a bit more critical.
John's character was quite different to the John we see in canon in several ways. He seemed more open, less self-contained, and while he does work long hours and live alone, you get the sense that it's less of a choice on his part -- not something he seeks out, but something that just is, because of the demands his job puts on him. Contrast this with the canon John, who liked the solitude of Antarctica, and had to think long and hard before giving that up.
Perhaps because of this unusual openness to his character, or perhaps because the story is from his POV and we thus get a peak into his head, he also seems to possess a vulnerability that we just don't see, or haven't yet seen, from canon John. This is most obvious in the scene with Francesca (a kidnapped girl he's been searching for but finds too late) and his subsequent reaction to her death, but also in his relationship with Rodney. Despite telling himself that he isn't gay, that he isn't really interested in Rodney and is just using him, he shows a remarkable passiveness in allowing Rodney to muscle him around, take care of him, and in the end almost falls into the relationship without meaning to. This highlights his loneliness, his need for human contact and affection, and leads me to see him as a younger, less hardened version of canon John (I even began to picture him as Joe Flanigan's part in 'Family Portrait').
In fact, this makes sense in the context of this universe. John dearly wanted to join the Air Force and become a pilot, but was disqualified at birth by a medical condition. Despite the obvious satisfaction he takes in his job, there's always the sense of melancholy that he couldn't follow his dreams:
He smoothes a hand over his face and gets distracted when he hears a hum outside the window, and when he turns, he sees a Blackhawk helicopter crawling across the sky, and he cannot, cannot look away.
He grew up on military bases but has had no military training. He deals with rapes and kidnappings and sometimes-gruesome murders, but he's never been to war. Obviously some innate compulsion to save lives remains intact, but he's gone through his career without the desperate trauma of full-scale battle. He does have to deal with some horrific things, but at the end of the day he can return to his nice house in quiet suburbia and work through it all at his own pace. There's no indication that he's ever lost people he's close to in his line of work.
Rodney, however, has led his life exactly the way we've seen it in canon, right up until that fateful morning with the bomb. Presumably he's not long returned from Siberia, and is now working in Cheyenne Mountain on the preliminaries for the Atlantis expedition. So his character should be akin to the Rodney McKay we first met in SG-1, previous to his posting to Antarctica. It more or less is -- snarky, obnoxious, holier-than-thou. However, I found myself pausing to think more than a couple of times.
The first thing that struck me was the use of the word 'yell'. Rodney 'yells' a lot in this story. Admittedly, I haven't seen his SG-1 episodes in a while, but whilst he was smug and arrogant and annoying, I don't remember him being particularly belligerent or neurotic. He was quite self-contained, expressing his panic in a very reasonable way, embracing the sense of inevitable doom-and-gloom with surprisingly little fuss. (My memory, of course, could be faulty -- please do correct me if I'm wrong about this). It was only later, on Atlantis where it was his and his team's lives on the line that he really began to show the neuroticism, raise his voice, gesticulate wildly. Arguably, this is the first time that he ever really understood the responsibility he held -- what it would mean for someone to die because he couldn't find the right solution. Contrast this with his dismissive attitude to Teal'c's situation in his very first appearance in the 'gateverse, and you can really see the character growth that he's undergone.
However, he hasn't undergone it yet. But you wouldn't know it from this story. This is very much a post-Atlantis Rodney in a pre-Atlantis setting. Bit of an anachronism, but I actually don't mind it too much. It works well enough in the early scenes, setting up a good dynamic between Rodney and John, and beyond that there's enough subtlety and skill in the writing that I can believe their relationship is having a significant impact on his behaviour.
That said, the particular characterisations for both Rodney and John fit very well together, and whilst it's never explained explicitly, you can really see what it is about each of them that leads them to need the other so much. Despite the nitpicks and a couple of inconsistencies in some of the details, it's that that makes this story such a good read, and one that holds up well to re-reading.
Link: Hindsight, by Rageprufrock
Summary: discussion of the characterisations in the above story
The story is an AU, in which John never joined the Air Force, becoming instead an FBI agent. Rodney's history up to the point where the story begins seems unchanged. Then one day in Colorado, Rodney discovers a bomb in his car, and John is subsequently called to the scene. That's how they meet, and the story goes from there.
The thing about AU's that has always attracted my interest is the characterisations. They really need to be spot-on if the characters are to be removed from the familiarity of their usual surroundings. On the first read, my opinion was that Pru had wholeheartedly succeeded in this. On the second read, I tried to be a bit more critical.
John's character was quite different to the John we see in canon in several ways. He seemed more open, less self-contained, and while he does work long hours and live alone, you get the sense that it's less of a choice on his part -- not something he seeks out, but something that just is, because of the demands his job puts on him. Contrast this with the canon John, who liked the solitude of Antarctica, and had to think long and hard before giving that up.
Perhaps because of this unusual openness to his character, or perhaps because the story is from his POV and we thus get a peak into his head, he also seems to possess a vulnerability that we just don't see, or haven't yet seen, from canon John. This is most obvious in the scene with Francesca (a kidnapped girl he's been searching for but finds too late) and his subsequent reaction to her death, but also in his relationship with Rodney. Despite telling himself that he isn't gay, that he isn't really interested in Rodney and is just using him, he shows a remarkable passiveness in allowing Rodney to muscle him around, take care of him, and in the end almost falls into the relationship without meaning to. This highlights his loneliness, his need for human contact and affection, and leads me to see him as a younger, less hardened version of canon John (I even began to picture him as Joe Flanigan's part in 'Family Portrait').
In fact, this makes sense in the context of this universe. John dearly wanted to join the Air Force and become a pilot, but was disqualified at birth by a medical condition. Despite the obvious satisfaction he takes in his job, there's always the sense of melancholy that he couldn't follow his dreams:
He smoothes a hand over his face and gets distracted when he hears a hum outside the window, and when he turns, he sees a Blackhawk helicopter crawling across the sky, and he cannot, cannot look away.
He grew up on military bases but has had no military training. He deals with rapes and kidnappings and sometimes-gruesome murders, but he's never been to war. Obviously some innate compulsion to save lives remains intact, but he's gone through his career without the desperate trauma of full-scale battle. He does have to deal with some horrific things, but at the end of the day he can return to his nice house in quiet suburbia and work through it all at his own pace. There's no indication that he's ever lost people he's close to in his line of work.
Rodney, however, has led his life exactly the way we've seen it in canon, right up until that fateful morning with the bomb. Presumably he's not long returned from Siberia, and is now working in Cheyenne Mountain on the preliminaries for the Atlantis expedition. So his character should be akin to the Rodney McKay we first met in SG-1, previous to his posting to Antarctica. It more or less is -- snarky, obnoxious, holier-than-thou. However, I found myself pausing to think more than a couple of times.
The first thing that struck me was the use of the word 'yell'. Rodney 'yells' a lot in this story. Admittedly, I haven't seen his SG-1 episodes in a while, but whilst he was smug and arrogant and annoying, I don't remember him being particularly belligerent or neurotic. He was quite self-contained, expressing his panic in a very reasonable way, embracing the sense of inevitable doom-and-gloom with surprisingly little fuss. (My memory, of course, could be faulty -- please do correct me if I'm wrong about this). It was only later, on Atlantis where it was his and his team's lives on the line that he really began to show the neuroticism, raise his voice, gesticulate wildly. Arguably, this is the first time that he ever really understood the responsibility he held -- what it would mean for someone to die because he couldn't find the right solution. Contrast this with his dismissive attitude to Teal'c's situation in his very first appearance in the 'gateverse, and you can really see the character growth that he's undergone.
However, he hasn't undergone it yet. But you wouldn't know it from this story. This is very much a post-Atlantis Rodney in a pre-Atlantis setting. Bit of an anachronism, but I actually don't mind it too much. It works well enough in the early scenes, setting up a good dynamic between Rodney and John, and beyond that there's enough subtlety and skill in the writing that I can believe their relationship is having a significant impact on his behaviour.
That said, the particular characterisations for both Rodney and John fit very well together, and whilst it's never explained explicitly, you can really see what it is about each of them that leads them to need the other so much. Despite the nitpicks and a couple of inconsistencies in some of the details, it's that that makes this story such a good read, and one that holds up well to re-reading.
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no subject
Date: 2005-08-17 01:41 am (UTC)"I don't think you really understand the severity of this," Rodney says suddenly, his voice damning. He scowls at John, who is settling the folder between his hands, looking politely interested in Rodney's most recent crisis. "I mean--I almost died this morning. Died. Before nine--before two cups of coffee, even," Rodney emphasizes, growing increasingly horrified at his brush with mortality. "And you, you keep smiling your little I Grew Up South Of The Mason-Dixon Line smile! Can we have a little professionalism? Can we have a little focus?" Rodney frowned down at his Styrofoam cup, and held it up again. "Also, can I have a little more coffee?"
John's a little amazed, torn between insult and hilarity, and decides Rodney's too weird to go one way or the other, and settles for bemusement.
He says, "Sure, I'll go refill that for you and remind everybody who won the War of Northern Aggression while I'm out there--happy, Dr. McKay?"
This is back in John's office after they met, and in John's reactions I saw interest. Not sexual interest, but he's already starting to like Rodney. Even as he characterizes Rodney as an asshole, John isn't treating him like one, although other characters are. He's curious, and he's already starting to have fun around Rodney. At least that's how it felt to me.
I have to get to bed, but in the morning I'll mention the technical stuff I wanted to talk about.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-17 02:09 am (UTC)Yes, well said. The difference between what they say to each other and how they actually treat each other is telling, and the actions are the important thing.
in the morning I'll mention the technical stuff I wanted to talk about.
I look forward to it.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-17 02:35 pm (UTC)Yes! That line made me laugh out loud and grin like a loon, and I'm not even American!