Title: Eating Disorder
Focus: Doctor Weir (actually more than a bit out of focus... :)
Archive: SFB-SGAC Only
Warnings: Suggested character death
Summary: Written for SFB-SGAC Week #5 (opening paragraph provided). Doctor Weir considers another dull meal.
Whenever we eat on Atlantis, I find myself grabbing that grilled cheese sandwich, side salad and unsweetened ice tea. I am beginning to feel like a grilled cheese sandwich and I know for a fact that there are tomatoes hanging from my dark, wavy hair. There is lettuce sprouting from my ears, and I look at yet another boring meal. One thing I can say for visiting Earth from time to time -- Big Macs and fries and a vanilla/chocolate shake.
The memory can't do a thing to save this meal, though. The grilled cheese stares at me, languid on the plate. It does not fear me, though it knows I will kill it momentarily, and consume its dry body and processed golden soul.
Perhaps it is distracted from its impending death by the red orbs that swing to and fro alongside my cheeks, occasionally bumping into my nose. I raise a quizzical eyebrow at its nonchalance, and the lettuce tickles my ears as it sprouts another inch. One more thing I can say for visiting Earth from time to time - long walks down the sunny path in the park by the river, and a picnic of fish sticks and fizzy drinks.
The meal isn't helping the memory, is it? I strain to see the stick-shaped fish as they swim through the bubbles. The sun is in my eyes, and on my tray the cheese sandwich snarls, its mood suddenly dark and angry. It believes I am toying with it. On one side, the lettuce waves, singing "hey, hey, hey, goodbye" to the sandwich, while the cherry tomatoes jump up and down, begging me to notice them. The stick-fish form a school, break, and re-form, swimming close to my nose. They ignore the danger from the swaying tomatoes. That's another thing I can say for visiting Earth from time to time - riding bareback, chasing jackrabbits until they duck into the chaparral, and eating chili with the ranch hands.
As a matter of fact, I am chilly. The stick fish swim past, and the bubbling of the fizzy drinks is growing louder. My vision rushes forward until I can see nothing but the cheese sandwich, its golden melted goodness pressing against my forehead like a dried, rough sponge. The jackrabbits begin to nibble at my lettuce-ears, and the chaparral looms over me like an evil forest. On either side, the tomatoes strain to break free from my hair, their eyes closed as they mumble in fear. Tea spreads its dark stain across my sight, dripping silently off the table onto my leg. I can no longer visit Earth - its vital memory has fled, pouring silently onto the floor amid the roaring of the bubbles and the incessant chattering of the jackrabbits.
One thing I can say about the jackrabbits - they must visit Earth from time to time. That's how they know me. They keep calling me; "Doctor Weir, Doctor Weir!" I don't answer; they won't eat my lettuce-ears while they're chattering. They say funny things, while the bubbles roar and the sponges soak up the tea and the little stick fish help the tomatoes to escape. "
last mission," I hear them say, "
team passed decon
." I'm flying, on my back, while the jackrabbits chase me and the lights rush by above me. "
contact with the Doctor
" they chatter along, "
virus or bacteria?" I close my eyes, still feeling the dryness of the cheese sandwich on my forehead. I see another light, beautiful and bright and head towards it.
Perhaps I will visit Earth, just one more time.
* * *
09 October 2005
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