Caroline was a pretty bird...
Feb. 27th, 2002 01:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabOkay. /rubs hands together
Just as an opportunity to get it out, think aloud, bother you nice people with aimless cheers of characterization and non-said...
Crichton. Josh Lyman. Scully. Other people I've beaten to death and made me, though maybe not so much anymore.
I'm working on this long Mandy story, and she's nothing like me, but she's scraped together a personality for herself so far beyond anything Sorkin or Moira Kelly ever intended, begs that fanfic question again. but then, we talked x, y, z and battlefields. And Crichton, Crichton, Crichton.
Crichton. Two years a mission -- I'm just trying to get home. And I don't think it's left him, not all the way, despite what the opening credits say now. Two years chasing Scorpius, chasing his own tail. Scorpius and the wormholes becoming everything Crichton's reaching for -- very literally occupying all the space in his brain. Stupid Ancients. Wonderful Harvey. So yeah, he's in love with Aeryn, and yeah, he doesn't want, exclusively, to get home anymore. But even then, even between the almost-glances and the touches and the You Are Everythings, Harvey's still in his head, reminding him. The wormhole data is still there.
This boy lives for wormholes, and in 321 he gets his chance to waltz with one. And I think it's clear in the episode that the wormholes are more important to him than Aeryn, for a time. And he might pretend it's to help Scorpy in his revenge against the Scarrans, but that's not what it is. Not my boy. It's his wormhole knowledge, unlocked and pouring out, the holy grail. Maybe to get home. Maybe to blow shit up. Maybe to die in, like the other John. Maybe just to look at. Trophy wormholes. But this Crichton is tilting at Scarran windmills while Rome burns, or something, and he doesn't see Aeryn at all.
Until, until until until, Crais dies. I suspect. Because that's the second time someone close to Crichton lost his life to protect the universe from wormholes. Crichton's wormholes. To protect the universe from Crichton, really. And it's someone close to Aeryn, both times, and I think she's bright enough to see the wormholes in Crichton's eyes. Two people died to protect her from him. Martyrs, like she could never be.
So because of that, I think it's a long time coming before she can quite trust him again, and a long time before he'll be able to shake off the guilt and feel whole again. 322 be damned (and I haven't seen it anyway, but I know, I've heard) -- I feel like we're talking about a deeper Crichton here. Or maybe it's just me. But anyway.
He's got guilt, and because of that inadequacy -- two deaths on his watch and they're almost his fault. And she's got inadequacy, because John and Crais were able to stand up to this Crichton/to wormholes and die, and she's just a little bit too much in love with him to do it. And she hates herself for it. Tough for an ex-PK, tougher still for one whose already lost a Crichton she loved.
So you see, that's where I was coming from in Not Dead. Jealousy meets inadequacy, guilt meets rage, self-hatred meets itself head on. And underneath it all, this horrible abiding love that's ruining everything. For now.
Maybe I'll change my mind when I see 322. Maybe I'm all wet already. Dunno, can't tell, because this stupid John is living in my brain, like Harvey.
So convince me otherwise, will you?
Just as an opportunity to get it out, think aloud, bother you nice people with aimless cheers of characterization and non-said...
Crichton. Josh Lyman. Scully. Other people I've beaten to death and made me, though maybe not so much anymore.
I'm working on this long Mandy story, and she's nothing like me, but she's scraped together a personality for herself so far beyond anything Sorkin or Moira Kelly ever intended, begs that fanfic question again. but then, we talked x, y, z and battlefields. And Crichton, Crichton, Crichton.
Crichton. Two years a mission -- I'm just trying to get home. And I don't think it's left him, not all the way, despite what the opening credits say now. Two years chasing Scorpius, chasing his own tail. Scorpius and the wormholes becoming everything Crichton's reaching for -- very literally occupying all the space in his brain. Stupid Ancients. Wonderful Harvey. So yeah, he's in love with Aeryn, and yeah, he doesn't want, exclusively, to get home anymore. But even then, even between the almost-glances and the touches and the You Are Everythings, Harvey's still in his head, reminding him. The wormhole data is still there.
This boy lives for wormholes, and in 321 he gets his chance to waltz with one. And I think it's clear in the episode that the wormholes are more important to him than Aeryn, for a time. And he might pretend it's to help Scorpy in his revenge against the Scarrans, but that's not what it is. Not my boy. It's his wormhole knowledge, unlocked and pouring out, the holy grail. Maybe to get home. Maybe to blow shit up. Maybe to die in, like the other John. Maybe just to look at. Trophy wormholes. But this Crichton is tilting at Scarran windmills while Rome burns, or something, and he doesn't see Aeryn at all.
Until, until until until, Crais dies. I suspect. Because that's the second time someone close to Crichton lost his life to protect the universe from wormholes. Crichton's wormholes. To protect the universe from Crichton, really. And it's someone close to Aeryn, both times, and I think she's bright enough to see the wormholes in Crichton's eyes. Two people died to protect her from him. Martyrs, like she could never be.
So because of that, I think it's a long time coming before she can quite trust him again, and a long time before he'll be able to shake off the guilt and feel whole again. 322 be damned (and I haven't seen it anyway, but I know, I've heard) -- I feel like we're talking about a deeper Crichton here. Or maybe it's just me. But anyway.
He's got guilt, and because of that inadequacy -- two deaths on his watch and they're almost his fault. And she's got inadequacy, because John and Crais were able to stand up to this Crichton/to wormholes and die, and she's just a little bit too much in love with him to do it. And she hates herself for it. Tough for an ex-PK, tougher still for one whose already lost a Crichton she loved.
So you see, that's where I was coming from in Not Dead. Jealousy meets inadequacy, guilt meets rage, self-hatred meets itself head on. And underneath it all, this horrible abiding love that's ruining everything. For now.
Maybe I'll change my mind when I see 322. Maybe I'm all wet already. Dunno, can't tell, because this stupid John is living in my brain, like Harvey.
So convince me otherwise, will you?
So not seeing it, well just a little bit on the edges,
Date: 2002-02-27 11:37 am (UTC)The boy doesn't talk about the things that really bother him, that really matter. He just doesn't. And he's talked about wormholes. A lot. And I don't think he gives a damn about Crais, at all. He just wants some silence. Aeryn and a picket fence. His friends. And yeah, sorry, can't erase 322 from my mind. But still. There's guilt, but there's guilt at not being able to choose. Between earth and the UT.
Basing it all on wormholes and love of science and Harvey is just taking x, in a + ... + x + y = z, and giving it a loading, giving it too much weight. Too much.
Wish I could make more sense, but I'm beat. Besides, I always make my points better in fic than in essays. Which, for an academic, sort of sucks. Although maybe that's why my supervisor says my thesis reads like a novel.
Maayan
Re: So not seeing it, well just a little bit on the edges,
Date: 2002-02-27 11:52 am (UTC)Oh, me too. I usually stop doing this sort of analysis when I'm writing fic, in fact. Because that's where I say it. I can talk about characters in Buffy and Angel and West Wing but I want to *write* Mulder and Scully and John and Aeryn. Show, not explain.
I'm on the fence about the guilt re: Crais, 320-321. Need to think about that more. I haven't had time to process the final 4 yet.
Must write, must write. Gah.