All Worlds Converge To Where You Are (7/8) SGA/Supernatural crossover

[gottalovev]

Chapter 6 :: Master Fic Post



John's studying some meteorological information that is sadly not as fresh as he'd like and trying not to tear his hair out while attempting to calculate patterns and trajectories when the radio on his desk chirps. He hits the button.

"Sheppard."

"John? Visitors at the gate," Neal says.

Great, just what he needs. Although a break right now is not such a bad idea, he's not seeing clearly anymore, figures blurring before his eyes.

"How many?" John asks, getting up and putting his coat on, making sure he has his Luminator. Yes, he's named Rodney's gadget, and it's been serving him faithfully for almost two years now and it's now normal procedure that John does visitor screening. Croats are sneaky, but the Luminator never lies.

"Thirty two."

Holy shit, that's a lot of people at once, and they haven't seen that in months. It necessitates more organisation to check everyone and makes sure it's safe for them to enter Camp Chitaqua, but often all the trouble amounts to nothing because they have to send them on their way. They can't afford to take in families, this is not a refugee's camp. Thank god Neal does a good job screening and is usually able to charm everyone into keeping calm and waiting for their turn.

"I'll be right there," John says, before cutting communications.

It's a nice spring day, the sun finally strong enough to give an impression of heat on John's skin, which puts him in a better mood until he almost collides with Castiel, who's going the other way.

"Watch out, man!" John says, and frowns as Castiel just chuckles while gripping John to stay upright. When John sees his eyes, Cas pupils are tiny.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll get out of your way," he says, grinning.

"Jeez, Cas, it's not even noon."

John sighs then whistles to get Dean's attention, who's right next to the depot with Chuck. Both men turn to him and John points to Castiel.

"Someone should keep an eye on Cheech, here," he shouts and Dean lets his head fall backwards, looking at the sky with something like despair.

The thing is, Cas is easier to deal with when high and he just laughs.

"Nah, no worries. I'm perfectly fine," he says. "Just needed to relax a little."

"You do that, buddy," John says, patting his shoulder and getting on his way.

Losing all that was left of his powers at once, save from tiny little abilities, had been extremely hard on Castiel. He'd soon fallen into a mix of depression and substance abuse to get through his days, the latter he somehow managed to hide long enough that it became serious. Dean had huffed and puffed, which had made things even worse for a while, but slowly Castiel had gotten out of it. He was now a lot different from the slightly stiff half-angel John had first met, but at least he was not stoned every day anymore. They'd had very stressful skirmishes with Croats and demons lately, where Cas got frustrated once again at not being able to do more, and everyone was on edge. Must have led to today's episode.

At the gate John spots the little group of people standing around on the outside, and immediately notices there are no children. Maybe a late teen or two, but those are definitely not families, too diverse and they don't stand in units that would make any kind of sense. Neal cheerfully waves at him from his spot as sentinel and John scoffs. A sneaky one, this Neal, charming the pants out of everyone without even trying too hard. The leader, or whomever those people have chosen to plead their cases, has been put in the little house to the left, the same one where John himself waited to be cleared when he arrived here. He opens the special trap on the door and sees that their guest is sitting down, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table but stands up as soon as he hears the sliding mechanism. The guy is relatively short, brown hair and beard and seems pissed. He scowls at John.

"Where's Dean?"

John puts on his most charming smile. It's not unusual for people to wave Dean's name around, but in reality it's often a bluff.

"Hi, I'm John. Dean can't come for the moment, so..."

The guy scoffs.

"Well go tell him that it’s important I see him in person right now. And that my name is Gabriel."

Writing the name on the pad he took right by the door, John does his habitual deflecting move.

"Sure thing, Gabriel. Just before though, could you come here a sec? Won't hurt, but with the infection, you know we can't take any chances."

"I don't have a stupid demonic virus," Gabriel says, but he's coming towards the door anyway. John perks up because everyone knows about the virus, yes, but the demonic origin is not something much talked about in the general population. Maybe this guy really knows Dean, probably a hunter.

"I'm sure you don't have it, but I don't make the rules, so..." John says with the shrug that makes him one of the good guys, annoyed by the endless paranoia. He makes sure to watch their visitor's every movement, though, not to be surprised. Once, a Croat had tried to spit blood in Jim's eyes.

"You know, I'm asking nicely and following your stupid procedure out of courtesy," Gabriel says, sliding his hand through he intended hole. From up close he looks up to no good at all and John's immediately more on guard. "A show of good will on our part."

That sound ominous, and John decides right there and then that he doesn't like Gabriel much. He's a possible threat, acquaintance or not, and John's prepared to strongly disagree that the newcomers stay at Camp Chitaqua. In a move made so many times he can fool almost everyone, John uses one hand to pinch one of Gabriel's finger with a needle for the redundant blood sample while he grazes the Luminator hidden in his left shirt sleeve against Gabriel's forearm. This time, the surprise is on him, though, when there's a sudden flash of white and the Luminator grows instantly hot. John jumps back with a yelp and Gabriel raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well look at that. Cool gadget you got there, Sheppard," Gabriel says, eyes crinkling and John's mind is reeling. Angel, this guy's a fucking angel, and he just read his thoughts on contact, shit. John tries to compose himself, smirks back.

"I know, I kinda like it. So, Gabriel..." And fuck, that must be the archangel himself. John had heard a couple of stories about other angels and archangels, although never specifically Gabriel. "Are you here to deliver a message to a lady on the premises?"

Gabriel laughs at that and John feels he scored some points there.

"Nah, definite lack of pious virgins, and even Dean's not pretty enough. If you don't mind, my brothers and sisters and I are pretty busy, so if I could see Dean now that the introductions are out of the way..."

Once more, John has to school his expression because if the 31 other ones outside are also angels and archangels, John really doesn't want to make them wait. Also, as Gabriel said, with his mojo he might decide to just get out and go get Dean himself. John decides that detaining him here is pointless, so he unlocks the door. He knows that some of those archangels are dicks, but if they're here and want to speak to Dean, there's not much John can do to stop it.

"Sure. Let's go find him."

Satisfied, Gabriel falls in step beside John and glances with curiosity at the surroundings as they walk.

"I wish I could say I think you did something nice with the place," he says, but lets go of that train of thought when he spots Dean who's still with Chuck, although Castiel is out of sight. "Hey, Dean!" He shouts and Dean turns with annoyance at the distraction before his eyes widen a bit in recognition.

"What the fuck, why did you let this asshole come in?" Dean growls at John.

"As if I could have stopped him," John says. "I thought it was better not to cause a scene."

Reluctantly, Dean nods, then stalks over, pointing a finger at Gabriel, then towards the general direction of the camp's entrance.

"I don't know what the fuck you're doing here, but I don't want no Trickster in my camp. So turn around and go, before I find a stake."

The little diatribe confuses the hell out of John, but makes Gabriel roll his eyes.

"Oh shut up," he tells Dean. "The time for games is over, let's forget all of that," he adds with a hand wave.

Dean's jaw falls open.

"What? You killed me like 200 times and let's just forget about it?"

Another eye roll from Gabriel and John definitely has no idea what is going on. He remembers reading about a mischievous Trickster in Chuck's books - he won't tell the brothers, but that character is among his favorites- but doesn't see the link between the two. Why would an archangel kill Dean so many times? He thought Zachariah was the dick to watch out for. Castiel, who had been slumped behind a couple of boxes it seems, perks up from behind them and is looking at Gabriel with a frown, totally sobered all of a sudden. He's spotted immediately by their visitor who grins at him.

"Hey bro! I wasn't sure if you were still around," he exclaims, then squints at Cas. "Whoa, I hadn't heard..."

Cas cuts him with a gesture.

"Yeah, whatever. Hello Gabriel," he greets, and John's relieved that at least Cas kept his Angeldar.

"Gabriel?" Dean says, his turn to be confused. "What, this douche is the angel Gabriel?"

"Hey," Gabriel frowns, "that's Archangel Gabriel to you, bozo."

It's confirmed by a nod of Castiel and John shakes his Luminator at Dean who doesn't looked thrilled at this turn of events.

"Fuck, I just... what the fuck. Why the hell would an archangel kill people for fun?" Dean says, bewildered and still pissed.

Bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, Gabriel heaves a long suffering sigh.

"I knew I was not the one to send in, but do they ever listen to me? No." After his little muttered monologue, Gabriel looks back up. "Look, I can either tell you all about my otherwise fascinating story of the last thousand of years or so, or we could get to work and figure how we, and in we I include the 3 dozen of my kind I brought, could stop the Apocalypse. What will it be?"

Looks like it's as fun as pulling teeth, but Dean nods, jerking his head towards the cabin where they hold their meetings.

"Okay, fine. Chuck?" Dean calls, and look at that, Chuck was trying to subtly make his exit. He's written the damn books, so he knows about what this guy can do, too. Stopped by Dean, he swivels around and looks up from his inventory pad as if he's suddenly aware that they have company. The act is not quite believable.

"Um? Yes?" He blinks, throws a small smile and a nod Gabriel's way

"Go find Sammy, meeting in five," Dean orders. He then turns to Gabriel. "This better be good."

***

John's loading the truck with the few supplies they managed to trade with a farmer when there's a loud whistle. Raising his head, he sees Sam who's gesturing for him to come closer. He has a little smile, which makes John wonder what's going on, so he ambles over.

"Yeah?"

"Roger's phone is working," Sam says, waiting for his reaction.

John tries to play it cool, even if his heart just jumped in his chest. Even since he's contacted McKay to make sure Anna would be safe, John's been in the habit to call Rodney every time he finds a working phone. Sometimes he'd connect and chat for a bit - or more often he'd listen to Rodney and make a couple of smartass remarks to make him laugh - and sometimes he'd get the voice mail where he'd leave a message or not, it depended. Of course it couldn't stay unnoticed for long, especially since in the last year John had been checking phones more and more regularly and been in a pissy mood afterwards as a result.

Eleven months ago now was the last time he'd reached Rodney in person. They hadn't had time to talk for long, as John was pressured to just get moving, but there had been something definitely weird with McKay, who was shiftier than usual. He had hinted at something big to come and his "Goodbye and take care, John." had been way more solemn than usual.

Since? Nothing. John had hung up at first, shrugging it off, but after a couple of months he'd started to worry because the message never changed. They had gone over 3 months without talking to each other before, but slight changes in the voice mail message always meant that Rodney had made it back alive, at least, before going back out there. Now it had been 11 and a half months with the same exact phrasing and every time John reached it, he'd curse. Maybe Rodney had died, and John had not been there to protect him. And want it or not, John had been forced to face the fact that he was not ready to let their weird friendship go at all.

Reaching the little house's porch, John finally responds to Sam.

"Lucky him," he says, because there's no denying that it's getting harder to find working phones. The main problem is that the service is so spotty, it doesn't really mean you'll be able to use it as you want.

Since Sam just gestures him in, not pressing the issue, John enters and reaches for the hand held phone. He punches in the numbers, and realizes he's holding his breath as it rings. Once again the message is, to the last syllable, the same as 45 times before and John, frustrated beyond belief, hurls the phone towards the living room. It bounces off the sofa and seems to land on the floor pretty intact, which John feels grateful for belatedly. He's still pissed, though, and worried sick so he's not in the best of head space when Dee wraps her arms around him from behind for what is surely meant as a comforting hug.

"I'm sorry baby," she says and John can't take it, not now, so he jerks away.

Dee looks hurt and John feels like a dick but he just can't be around people in this state and he goes back out, and walks a little way towards the corn fields. One of these days, he's going to have to come to terms with the fact that just like so many people in the last years, Rodney didn't make it. John knows he's taking it hard because no matter how many times he'd told Rodney that he was not ready to leave Earth yet, it was still a possible way out. Maybe after the Apocalypse was over, or if there didn't seem to be any hope left. After a couple of minutes of deep breathing, John bottles up all of those helpless feelings, pushes them way down until all is left is the cool facade.

Later that night, back at Camp, John follows Dee back to her cabin and she lets him in. They've been friends with benefits on and off almost since they've known each other. In this day and age, most people seek comfort where they can find it, and they are no exception. John had a crush on Dean at first, but he realized pretty fast that a couple of nights would be it, especially when Dean slowly got closer to Castiel. Dee had came to terms with the fact that Sam was not going to love her back, and somehow John and her had turned to each other.

That they even hooked up was one of those circumstantial happenings, since they're so different that they wouldn't work in a normal setting. They've had several huge fights, sometimes long weeks passed where they are barely nodding at each other, and then something brings them together again - usually one or the other almost dying - and they have epic make up sex. She's a great girl, beautiful and funny, but she's also young and John's convinced she deserves better than him. In the dark, John apologizes for his earlier brush off the only way he knows how: letting his hands, mouth and body talk. Afterwards, with her head pillowed on his shoulder and her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest, she speaks softly.

"I'm jealous, you know. It's obvious you care about that Rodney guy, enough to get in a snit. But here? Everything always seems to glide over you like water on a duck."

John sighs.

"I care," he says, and it's true, he does and it's frustrating that she can't see it, feel it. When Dee stays silent, he adds, "I care about you, and about everyone here. You know that, right?"

She burrows closer, hugging him sideways.

"Yeah, I guess so," she murmurs.

He holds her back and kisses the top of her head.

"I do. I swear. But I hate not knowing."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry."

Sorry for Rodney missing or sorry she brought it up, he's not sure. Maybe both. They stay silent after that and eventually Dee drifts off. It takes longer for John, and he wonders once again how things would have turned out if he'd agreed to go explore the stars. Probably, out there, there's a universe with a John Sheppard who made a different choice and he wonders if that Sheppard is better off. Sometimes, John feels the pull of the stars like something physical.

***

"Is everyone ready?" Sam says, standing up on a crate in the front of the room, Dean right by his side, standing straight and battle ready.

The approving cheer in return is loud, and John can't help but feel exhilarated as he shouts along. This is it, their Hail Mary to defeat Lucifer: roughly a hundred people, 40 angels or so and half a dozen demons who no one trusts as far as they can throw them. Among those is the infamous Crowley, who explained that he'd prefer the status quo without an evil overlord ruling it all and gave up the Colt as a proof of good faith.

Even after two years, Sam Winchester remains an enigma to John. He had kept quiet for a while at first, with a tendency to disappear in the cabin he shared with Dean. One day, he'd started working on restoring the Impala, and Dean had joined him whenever he had time. The old girl had soon regained all of her past glory, and from then on, Sam would regularly take her out of Camp Chitaqua, going who knows where for often days at a time. It drove Dean completely crazy, but what was important was that Sam always came back. Gabriel and his merry gang of angels had given a new breath of hope to this fight and after scheming and arguing and dealing with egos the size of small planets for months now, they had designed this plan that had absolutely no guarantee to work at all. Still, it was their best shot, and they intended to succeed or die trying.

They were back in Detroit, and, in one of those weird twists of fate, in the same warehouse where they had been two and a half years previously. The Big Guy in charge, Shorty, remembered Castiel's little show and had agreed to let them work in his domain for several days, not knowing it was in preparation of the big showdown. Over the years, the Croats had made life more difficult for everyone all across the country and Detroit had been hit hard, which made everyone either a bit wearier or, on the contrary, ready to help when someone said they had a possible solution.

John was in charge of the iron and salt network that had to be set very carefully across the main room to let the Devil and his minions in, but then cut the demons off from their leader when it would be time. He knew that there were various other designs intertwined, traps for Lucifer himself and other stuff that he had not even tried to understand. Even with several years being confronted with the occult, it made John uneasy, so he left it to others.

In the last weeks, Sam had taken more and more place in the planning stages, which at first didn't sit well with certain angels. On the other hand, it had seemed to agree completely with Dean, who had stepped back, although always supporting his brother. The archangel Michael had finally showed up to Camp Chitaqua, in a body that wasn't Dean's, and he'd been butting heads big time with both Winchester’s since. Surprisingly, Gabriel had been a good mediator and here they were, with Sam leading the show (and Michael sulking about it).

When Sam gives the signal, John makes a quick survey around the room, checking everything and it's all set, so he gives the official thumbs up to Dean. The angels who still can teleport -and frankly, how cool is that?- then disappear, so do the demons (hopefully not to go sell them out) and everyone else goes in position. Sam then uses candles and chalk to summon Lucifer himself, and admittedly, this is the weaker link in their plan: and what if he doesn't show? Castiel is convinced that it won't be a problem, that Lucifer is confident and arrogant enough to walk right in.

The Latin seems to last forever for John, whose heart is beating double time. He still dreams of the first encounter in the alleyway sometimes, the mere presence of Him, skin falling off but still inexplicably charming when you thought about it. The silence, when Sam stops, is deafening. No one moves, waiting, and waiting some more. Just when John is about to move and look Dean's way for further instructions, the door opens slowly, making his breath catch.

Slowly, very confidently, a guy walks in. He's tall, but kind of skinny, and even if it's not the same vessel John has seen Lucifer in the last time, there's something revealing about the way he walks in the place still cocky. They have no doubt that Lucifer knows he's getting into what is intended to be a trap, and it's his nonchalance that just shows everyone that it's indeed the guest of honor. Plus, when you look closely, the man's face is starting to peel in places, which drives the point home. The Devil might have changed skin, but once more it's not strong enough to perfectly hold him in. On his heels come four men, walking behind in a sort of half circle: the angels had predicted he'd have the four horsemen with him for a final showdown. After that, there's maybe 20 other demons who follow in, soon fanning out in the building. John assesses the way they move and sees with satisfaction that they follow mostly the predicted paths, avoiding devil traps - the ones meant to be seen- and walking between iron. The design is intricate, and if it's done correctly and all goes according to plan, the demons are trapping themselves without realizing it.

Lucifer walks directly through the center towards Sam, who's standing proud even if a little pale. Dean's tense as a bow right next to him, and behind, also in a half circle, are Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Zachariah - Dean had protested loudly and for a long time about that one, but in the end he'd caved since Zach was really frigging powerful. There is elegance in the symmetry of the two camps facing each other like that, like an image/mirror. The horsemen stop when their boss does too.

"So, that's it, I guess," Lucifer says.

"Yes," is Sam's only reply.

"It cannot go on," Michael says, projecting his voice so it sounds loud and clear in the whole room and possibly beyond. Everyone at the strategic meetings had known he'd try to take control of the situation and get in the spotlight.

"I see your brother Winchester was as stubborn as mine," Lucifer says, eyeing Sam and Dean almost fondly before turning to the archangel. "You can't defeat me in this form, Michael."

"Stubborn doesn't even begin to cover it," Michael sighs. "I might not wear the most powerful vessel, but you aren't either."

"No luck, Sherlock," Dean says with a smirk. "We're betting we have more firepower than you do."

"That's where you'd be wrong," Lucifer says, flicking his hand and Dean is thrown way in the back if the room, hard, where he lands with a sick thud. They knew something like that could happen, but it makes John heartbeat spike until he sees Dean move faintly. A couple of the men posted on that side of the room for that purpose alone rush to his side.

Sam and the archangels, on the other hand, don't even look back, as if unconcerned, although John's sure that Sam needs all of his self control not to do so. Lucifer smiles.

"I'm strong enough to take you all. Come on, Sam. You know resisting is stupid. Let me in, Dean accepts Michael and we do this properly, according to the rules."

"You don't respect the rules," Sam declares. "And no is no."

A flicker of what looks like rage passes on Lucifer's face, but when he tries to toss him, Sam doesn't move an inch. John knows that Castiel painted runes on Sam's skin everywhere they're hidden by clothes, which took hours. Nothing that will work more than 5 minutes under attack, but enough for the diversion they plan. When Lucifer's attempt fails, the horsemen look on curiously and it's on their distraction that the plan is based. Gabriel snaps his fingers, which is the cue for the 33 other angels to teleport at their respective positions and push the demons they're the closest to into the devil traps if they can, the visible and subtle ones, and there's at least 4 angels by the horsemen.

The appearance of the angels makes John set in motion the movement of the iron beams on the floor by the volunteers from Camp Chitaqua, each end of the beams touching over a prepared patch of salt on the floor meant to seal the gaps in the 5 point star design the thirty pieces of metal form on the floor, covering the whole warehouse. John's barely done moving his own beam, which took less than a couple of seconds, when other volunteers pour a big ring of salt all around the star with the stocked rock-salt. It's not a true devil’s trap, but it's an obstacle enough for the lesser demons, which now can't get away and are being practically slaughtered by the angels.

Of course the four horsemen are not that easy to get rid of, and as for right now, Lucifer doesn't look particularly worried.

"Very creative," he says, nodding. "But not enough."

Lucifer starts to walk towards Sam and the archangels, easily stepping over the design on the floor. He's no demon, so they had predicted it. It seems that to use their powers, at least the destructive or restorative ones, the angels have to touch their target. Zachariah and Raphael circle towards the horsemen, going in as backup because if Famine seems to have fallen, War, Pestilence and Death are fighting like... well like demons, armed with half swords, and angels are dying right and left.

Sam, waits until Lucifer is all but five feet away and takes the Colt out of the back of his pants where it was hidden, and aims it at the Devil's forehead. John thinks of all of the time they spent scheming at Camp Chitaqua and on the road to try and find that fucking gun, about all of the good people they lost, too. They used to think it could kill the Devil, but learned rather recently by Michael that it won't. But at least they're prepared for what will happen next.

"Sam, Sam, Sam," Lucifer sighs. "I don't want to disappoint you, but..." He starts, but Sam pulls the trigger, giving him a third eye. Seeing someone getting shot directly in the head is not something you ever get accustomed to, so John flinches as Lucifer falls on the floor in a heap. He won't be knocked out for long, so Gabriel and Michael drag him where Castiel is busy putting the last touches on an actual devil's trap design with all the trimmings but done in Holy Oil. John's glad to see that Dean's back up, even if his knees look a bit wobbly. Once Lucifer is in the center of the design, already stirring while the hole on his forehead is closing as if he's Wolverine, Dean's the one who lights up the design.

"Now, if you stay put one fucking second," Dean tells Lucifer who's rubbing his forehead with a pout, "We'll trap you for good."

The problem is that the four horsemen don't seem okay with that plan, and the angel casualties are getting pretty high. Even Zachariah has bitten it, it seems, not that it will make John cry. He was really kind of an asshole. War is still standing, fighting in a way that is truly phenomenal, full of deadly grace for what seems on the outside to be an ordinary middle-aged man. War all but howls with rage when Pestilence and Death, who were back to back, are burned down to a crisp by the touch of Raphael and a dozen or so other angels crowded around them. Once that is done, War is soon cornered and even if he never stops trying, he's overcome by the numbers and he's toast too.

It all took but two minutes since Lucifer regained consciousness but he's back up on his feet, hands on his hips. He shakes his head at Sam and Dean.

"Now, boys, don't go thinking you saved the world of misery. They were just the poster boys."

"We know," Sam says. "But you're going down in your cage again, and this time with triple locks."

The brothers step back and the angels that are left make a circle around the flaming devil's trap. Michael looks especially majestic in the flickering light, power barely concealed by the human he's wearing and for a second John tries to imagine how wonderful a sight it would have been with Dean. It's time to get on with the plan while Lucifer tries to talk his way out, cajoling at first, then growing more concerned and snappish. John knows there's some chanting to come, plus intricate rituals, but also that the angels should soon revert to their original shapes and that mere humans can't be privy to that. John whistles to his squad to evacuate the premises, and Dean, Sam, Castiel and him make sure that no one is being left behind by accident.

"Man, I just hope there's not an angel in there who plans to double cross us," Dean grumbles as they take cover, while Castiel shouts for everyone to protect their eyes.

Sam scoffs.

"Nothing much we can do at this point."

John buries his head in his folded arms and shuts his eyes, closed very tight. The ground starts to shake more and more violently, debris falling on them, which makes a couple of people around him cry out in surprise and something close to panic.

"Cover your eyes! Do not move until I say so!" Castiel shouts again.

Everything goes still for one, two, three seconds, then there's a bang so loud it's like a physical body slam and John loses consciousness.

***

Life post Apocalypse is not that different, after all. The Croats are still a problem, but the infection is at least spreading slower now. There are less extreme weather hazards since the angels have spread out to exorcise as many demons as possible back in the pit, which is a relief for everyone. Since a lot of politicians and decision makers had been possessed, and now either died because of it or came back to themselves once freed, decisions start to make a slice more sense. It's certain the world will take decades before getting back to a semblance of what it was in 2009 before the start of the Croatoan infection, but at least it seems to be heading the right way.

John can't believe a civil organization like they have here has so much paperwork. He coordinates several anti-Croat teams, who go to towns all around to help the armed forces who don't have enough personnel to be everywhere they need to be at once. Each team reports to John, who then does an executive summary for Sam and Dean. He hates it with a passion. He'd prefer to go out in the field himself, but somehow he got roped into this and is responsible to screen everyone who comes back to camp on top. The paperwork wouldn't be so bad if the teams would all fork in decent reports, but they are usually pretty vague which leads to a bit of creative interpretation on his part. The screening, on the other hand, has a couple of times led to decisions that had made him sick to his stomach, when the Luminator's light had turned red. Just today, he's had to condemn two of his newest recruits.

John's considering taking a couple of days off, which he hasn't done in months now, when the radio on his desk chirps. He hits the button.

"Sheppard."

"Come over. Now," Dean says, before cutting the communication.

Sighing, John gets up and stretches, wondering what the fuck happened again. He sure hopes it has nothing to do with the angels. Since Dean's tone was pretty urgent, he doesn't waste any time and is soon knocking on his cabin's door.

"Come in."

Dean looks up and when John comes in he grins, which John didn't expect.

"I'll leave you to it," he says, with a wink, getting up and grabbing his coat, which confuses John even more.

"Leave me to what?" John says, as Dean walks past him, giving him a playful hit on the arm. "Ow!"

Still smiling, Dean points to the table next to the bed in the back.

"Seems my phone resurrected from the dead. The call's for you."

Flabbergasted, John sees that the phone is indeed unhooked and there's only one person it could be, who could manage to make a phone work out of the blue and knows where to reach him. He's so shocked that he doesn't move until Dean pushes him towards the back of the room.

"Go on now." And he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Dean was smiling, and he had talked to Rodney before, so everything points to the conclusion that it must be him on the phone, but still John doesn't dare to hope even if his heart rate has increased. Maybe McKay had left instructions for someone to warn him in case he was declared dead, something like that. But there's no way to know for sure apart from answering the damn phone, so he walks over, sits on the bed because his legs are suddenly made of jelly, and finally picks it up.

"Sheppard," he says, willing his voice not to crack and holding his breath afterward.

"John? Finally! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a hold of you?" Rodney says and the bone deep relief that floods John all at once makes him fall back on the bed and laugh. "What? What?" Rodney asks, visibly not understanding what can be so funny.

When he can stop laughing long enough to speak, John finally answers him.

"I've been trying to reach you without success for over sixteen months now, Rodney. I think I know."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," he says. There's a couple of seconds of silence, which is pretty unusual with Rodney.

"I'm sorry you were worried. You were worried?" he asks, and from anyone else John would think it's fishing for reassurance, but McKay's always been clueless like that.

"Yeah. Are you okay?" John won't admit he thought he was dead, and how much it had affected him.

"Me? Yes, yes, I'm fine. I've been... I've been away, you know? Something big happened and I really had to go back and we were not sure we’d be able to return, ever. But we had to take the risk... She's home now." Rodney is so passionate about it, that even with the careful phrasing John knows that he's talking about Atlantis.

"Glad you still managed to make it back," John says, and he's waiting for it, this time, this invitation he knows is going to come.

"I just thought I'd call, because I'm going there again, and I don't know for how long. It's no picnic, though. I have to save the day way too often," Rodney says, serious and bragging a little.

Why isn't he asking? John wants him to ask.

"Appreciate it. You'll have to be careful, then," John says, twisting the phone cord. Maybe Rodney realized he didn't need him to come along anymore. Maybe they have all of the Ancient descendants they need.

"I will, I will. Hey, it was nice talking to you, I'm glad you're... you know, still fighting the Croats. I heard it's getting a bit better now?" Rodney says, visibly reluctant to end the call.

"Yeah, it is." We trapped the Devil, it helped, he doesn't add. Doesn't know what to do to keep Rodney on the phone.

"Well, I guess that's it," Rodney murmurs, which John barely hears. "Take care, John," he declares, stronger, and it's like John's heart is plummeting. He's pretty sure that if he hangs up on Rodney right now, he'll never hear from him again. The thing is that he doesn't know how to stop it, so he doesn't speak up, throat closed.

There's a couple of seconds where no one talks but neither of them hang up, until Rodney says, pretty rapidly.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Yes!" John blurts immediately, then hearing Rodney's sigh realizes he didn't understand him right. "I mean yes, I want to go. With you."

"Really?" Rodney gasps, visibly surprised and elated and John can't help grinning, certain it's the right decision.

"Yeah. I think it's time."

***

Epilogue

Master Fic Post