"Rodney, your music, it's... You're a fine, clinical player, but you don't put any heart into it! When you play, you're not just meant to express the notes written on the page, but your soul! If you want to become a more accomplished musician, you're going to have to be prepared to show your inner self to the world, not keep it locked up in a cage."
Those words, the words of his piano teacher sitting on the stool next to him when he was still only ten years old, had haunted him for the majority of his life. It was an incredibly daunting idea for a child his age to let the world see him for what he truly was, let them laugh and point at it, crush it into dust beneath their unhindered and uncaring feet, just as his father did after the arguments he would have with his mother.
And so, it was no surprise that he quickly gave up the instrument which could have been the tool to destroy him. He sold the piano that had been sitting in his room and replaced it with a desk, soldering iron and various electronic devices which could be broken down and rebuilt into anything he wanted.
But he never gave up music.
In fact, it would have been more accurate to say that music didn't let him.
No matter how hard he tried, no matter how far from music and noises he went, it would always arrive and invade his thoughts, be it from the birds singing outside of his bedroom window, some far off radio, or even the ticking of his clock.
Eventually, he found the patterns in mathematics and physics, and he couldn't help but think of how similar that was to the notes he had seen written on the staves as he'd sat before the black and white keys of his once favourite tool. As he delved further into this world of numbers and theories, he found that they spoke to him, much like the music had.
And then he started to hear it. The rhythms and beats, the quavers and crotchets, the tenor and bass of every equation, every experiment, each bringing his that bit of comfort he had forbidden himself since that day.
It was only when, years later, on a different world in a different galaxy, he had met people who had learned to trust, learned to open up to, that he truly understood what his piano teacher had been saying that day.
He had found the people he could let his soul sing to, found the men and women he would allow to touch his heart, and as he let Atlantis sing him to sleep each night, or whenever he was able to sleep, with her rhythms coursing through his veins, he allowed himself to open that cage door inside him open just that little farther.
Summary: Ever since his piano teacher told him about his 'clinical' playing, Rodney has tried to give up music, but it had other ideas... One-Shot