Ethereal (McShep, PG-13)
Title: Ethereal
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2,200
Summary: Everyone seemed to believe he was dead. Well, everyone except for Rodney, and John was starting to wonder if maybe Rodney was wrong on this one.
Notes 1: This was meant to be a Christmas gift, but it seems forcryinoutloud could need a little cheering up right about now. So, um. Merry Christmas?
Notes 2: Yes, this is SG-1's Crystal Skull revisited. And I'm reasonably sure that something like this was written before in this fandom, though I can't remember by whom. This is in no way meant to offend or plagiarise. :)
ETA: As newkidfan so kindly pointed out, that story is Lost by Merry. You should totally read it, it's lovely. And angsty.
~~~
Ethereal
It was an accident. A harmless device, slightly faulty like so many of the gadgets the Ancients had left behind. A mere glitch; a connection that shouldn't have been there. No warning, of course not, just a split-second of energy flow that made all the difference between a perfectly boring afternoon and utter disaster.
It was an accident. Could have happened to anyone.
~~~
It had been sixteen days since it had happened. Sixteen long days of sitting in his lab, staring at the metallic orb that had killed Sheppard, desperately trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Sheppard had been careless, snatching the thing from Rodney's desk and playing around with it until he'd accidentally set it off.
If he weren't already dead, Rodney would kill the man himself.
He'd had to watch powerlessly as a bright white light had surrounded Sheppard, as his friend screamed, only to disappear before Rodney could so much as move. The orb had been all that was left behind, lying unharmed on the floor where Sheppard had stood, just moments ago.
Nobody had touched it until they'd found its entry in the Ancient database. A transportation device, the system told them. A killing machine, more likely. Rodney and Radek had spent days and nights in the lab, running every test they could think of, determined to prove that the orb hadn't killed Sheppard, that it had simply… misplaced him. To no avail.
On the fifth day, Elizabeth had finally made the announcement that Lt. Col. John Sheppard was dead, her voice full of pain and loss. Rodney refused to accept that, refused to believe that Sheppard was gone just like that. He would never believe it.
They thought he was mourning, that he was slowly coming to acknowledge the fact that Sheppard would never return to them. He let them believe that. It was easier than trying to explain why he sat in his lab each night after everyone had left, staring endlessly at the orb, trying to figure out a way to make it spill its secrets without taking it apart.
He closed his eyes, feeling more tired than he ever had before, his mind filled with images of a cocky smirk and wild hair.
~~~
Everyone seemed to believe he was dead. Well, everyone except for Rodney, and John was starting to wonder if maybe Rodney was wrong on this one. After all, John could now walk through walls and people alike, literally invisible to everyone but himself, and that alone was more than a little scary. He had screamed himself hoarse trying to get someone's attention, anyone's attention - no matter if that anyone was Lorne, Beckett, or Kavanagh.
When Elizabeth had walked through him while he tried to make himself noticed, he had given up. Instead, he'd wandered to the one place he was sure he'd find help.
Walking into Rodney's lab had felt like walking into a morgue. The lights had been dimmed, and there'd been no sound but the soft clickety-click of Rodney's and Radek's fingers racing over the keyboards of their laptops. The air had felt cold, too, although he thought he could have been imagining things. He hadn't really felt anything since Rodney's orb had zapped him.
Tonight, as usual, the lights were still on in lab one, even though it was way past midnight. Rodney sat in front of his workstation, looking exhausted, and John wished he could drag the scientist from the lab and force him to get some sleep. That would have required him not being dead, though, and since that seemed to be what had his friend looking so haggard in the first place, the whole thing was kind of a moot point. It was painful, watching Rodney stare at the goddamn orb, running his fingers lightly along the side and whispering, "please come back."
He'd seen Rodney tired and vulnerable before, but this made him hold his breath and something in his chest constrict, because no one should be so openly hurting, especially not Rodney. Not because of John.
It made him wish that he could reach out and touch the other man, to squeeze his shoulder, pat his back, anything that would chase away that awful loneliness from his friend's face.
John had always thought that the over-protectiveness they'd kept demonstrating towards each other was a sign of a deep and healthy friendship.
Now he wondered if he hadn't just been very, very blind.
~~~
On the seventeenth day, Elizabeth came into the lab, Radek hovering behind her.
"You ratted me out," Rodney stated, looking at him. Instead of accusing like he'd planned, it only came out tired.
"Rodney," Elizabeth said gently, "this isn't healthy. I know that John was your friend, but you'll have to accept that he's gone. We all have to."
With Teyla escaping to the mainland and Ronon following to keep her company, Rodney wondered how much 'accepting' was really going on, but he chose to keep that thought to himself. Instead, he tried to explain, again, what he was doing.
"That device didn't kill him, Elizabeth. It must have been malfunctioning, sending him to god knows where, so we really need to figure out a way to get him back."
She just shook her head.
"Rodney, all the tests you and Dr. Zelenka did showed no evidence that the device was in any way functioning like it was designed to do. If there was even a remote chance that John was still alive, I'd be the first one to give you all the time you need to figure this out, but, Rodney, you're chasing a ghost. I'm sorry, but I'm taking you off duty until Dr. Heightmeyer confirms that you've started to move on."
"What?! You can't do that!" Rodney sputtered, turning to Radek. "Tell her she can't do that!"
"I can, Rodney, and I will. I would prefer to keep you here, but I'll send you to Earth if I have to." Elizabeth's voice was hard, only her eyes betraying how much she hated doing this. "Please leave your work to Dr. Zelenka, and stay away from the labs."
She turned, and left, her back straight as she walked past a guilty-looking Radek. Rodney sighed, and started to shut down his laptop, knowing better than to fight a fight he had no chance of winning.
He was so tired of fighting.
His staff wasn't looking at him while he cleaned up his workstation, gathering the few things that had nothing to do with work. Radek grabbed his wrist as he reached for the orb.
"I don't think it would be wise to take that along."
Rodney stared at the hand around his wrist, then at the man who'd put an end to his research of Sheppard's disappearance. He didn't even feel resentful. He felt numb.
"If you ever were my friend," he said, "you will shut up now."
Radek made a face, but pulled his hand away, and Rodney slipped the orb into his pocket.
"Just make sure you don't get… misplaced."
He needn't have worried, but Rodney appreciated the sentiment. It was nice to have a friend who looked out for him.
It wasn't the one he wanted to be here, but it was nice.
~~~
John watched in horrified fascination as Rodney proceeded to get very, very drunk. He did it with the usual McKay determination: focussed, no-nonsense, and spectacularly successful.
"I really don't think that's the right way to go, McKay," he said as it became clear that Rodney intended to finish the entire bottle of whiskey by himself. The scientist had barely eaten anything over the last two weeks, just enough to keep him going, and this could only end badly.
Rodney obviously didn't care, pouring himself another glass, one-handed, and raising it in a mock-toast to the orb he held in his right.
"To the Ancients," he slurred. "Thank you for leaving us so many wonderful surprises."
John winced as his friend downed the whole glass in one go. Nice as it was to know you'd be missed when you were dead, this self-destructive behaviour had to stop.
Too bad he didn't know how to do that.
He stood leaning against the wall next to Rodney's dresser, watching him watch the orb with what could only be called resentment.
"Why the hell did you have to touch it?" Rodney demanded hoarsely. "I didn't tell you to touch it."
"I'm sorry," John said softly.
Of course, Rodney didn't hear him.
"You always do this, running into danger and expecting me to fix things. Well, I can't fix this!"
"I know." And he didn't really expect Rodney to get him back into the corporeal world, not anymore. He just wished there was a way to say goodbye.
"I can't fix this," Rodney repeated, his voice cracking. He stared at the orb, clutching it so hard his knuckles turned white, then his face contorted into a mask of grief and hatred. With an angry yell, he drew his arm back, and threw the orb as hard as he could against the far wall.
The orb shattered, and to John it was like he could feel every shard, every bit of brittle metal, pulling him apart to scatter his pieces across several dimensions.
He screamed.
~~~
"Sheppard!"
Rodney jumped up, whiskey glass falling forgotten to the floor as he hurried over to the man who had appeared out of nowhere, screaming before he collapsed right in front of Rodney's dresser, curled up in a foetal position and moaning with pain.
"Sheppard!"
He fell to his knees next to his friend, reaching for a trembling shoulder and giving an embarrassing, whimpering little sigh as his hand connected with the coarse fabric of Sheppard's black t-shirt, warm over heated skin. Sheppard pulled in a long, shaky breath and pushed back into his touch, body uncurling a little so he could turn his head.
Their eyes met, and Rodney clutched Sheppard's shoulder as hard as he could at the sight of those hazel eyes blinking up at him. It was something he'd never thought he'd see again.
"Rodney," Sheppard croaked, his voice hoarse from screaming, and Rodney had never heard a sweeter sound. It could have been the whiskey, or it could have been elation, that made him lean down and press his lips to Sheppard's.
He could feel the tremors that rocked his friend's slender frame, and he didn't really know if the soft noise Sheppard made indicated pain, disgust, or pleasure. And to be honest, he didn't really care. Kissing Sheppard seemed like the most natural thing in the world, right now, and he'd be damned if he'd stop unless Sheppard pushed him away.
If anything, Sheppard tried to get him closer, long fingers clutching his shirt and pulling feebly. Belatedly, though, Rodney realised that as nice as this was he'd better get the colonel into the infirmary, and he drew back, reluctant to lose even the tiniest bit of contact. Sheppard frowned as Rodney let him go to fumble for the radio that was hanging pretty askew on his ear.
"Infirmary, this is Dr. McKay. I have a medical emergency in my quarters. It's Sheppard," he added, then threw the radio away, ignoring the squawked questions. Looking down, he met Sheppard's slight smirk with raised eyebrows.
"Hi," his friend croaked. "Miss me?"
Rodney huffed.
"As a matter of fact, I did not. You are a complete and utter moron, and I have better things to do with my time than mourn your demise, especially since you weren't dead."
Sheppard's smirk grew wider.
"Yeah. I missed you, too."
And there was nothing to say to that, really. So Rodney just wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling him close, holding him until the medics arrived.
~~~
John woke in the infirmary, to the sound of Rodney hissing insults into his headset. He grinned, waiting until he had the scientist's attention, and then mouthed, "tyrant." Rodney rolled his eyes at him and added a few choice words about how it was getting really old that people started trying to blow up his city as soon as he turned his back.
It was all blessedly normal.
Once Rodney had finished his conversation, he looked expectantly at John, waiting, John knew, for his thank you.
"You are one tenacious bastard," he said, knowing Rodney would get it.
"Yes, yes, you're welcome."
They looked at each other for a long moment, then Rodney grabbed John's hand. He seemed determined to say something, but had obviously run fresh out of words.
John could relate.
He kept Rodney's hand in a tight grip of his own, marvelling at how it was big and warm and a little sweaty. Rodney cleared his throat.
"So, I hope you learned your lesson. No more touching things without asking me, first."
John raised his eyebrow and smirked lewdly, enjoying to see Rodney's cheeks flush.
"Oh, shut up."
~~~
End.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2,200
Summary: Everyone seemed to believe he was dead. Well, everyone except for Rodney, and John was starting to wonder if maybe Rodney was wrong on this one.
Notes 1: This was meant to be a Christmas gift, but it seems forcryinoutloud could need a little cheering up right about now. So, um. Merry Christmas?
Notes 2: Yes, this is SG-1's Crystal Skull revisited. And I'm reasonably sure that something like this was written before in this fandom, though I can't remember by whom. This is in no way meant to offend or plagiarise. :)
ETA: As newkidfan so kindly pointed out, that story is Lost by Merry. You should totally read it, it's lovely. And angsty.
~~~
Ethereal
It was an accident. A harmless device, slightly faulty like so many of the gadgets the Ancients had left behind. A mere glitch; a connection that shouldn't have been there. No warning, of course not, just a split-second of energy flow that made all the difference between a perfectly boring afternoon and utter disaster.
It was an accident. Could have happened to anyone.
~~~
It had been sixteen days since it had happened. Sixteen long days of sitting in his lab, staring at the metallic orb that had killed Sheppard, desperately trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Sheppard had been careless, snatching the thing from Rodney's desk and playing around with it until he'd accidentally set it off.
If he weren't already dead, Rodney would kill the man himself.
He'd had to watch powerlessly as a bright white light had surrounded Sheppard, as his friend screamed, only to disappear before Rodney could so much as move. The orb had been all that was left behind, lying unharmed on the floor where Sheppard had stood, just moments ago.
Nobody had touched it until they'd found its entry in the Ancient database. A transportation device, the system told them. A killing machine, more likely. Rodney and Radek had spent days and nights in the lab, running every test they could think of, determined to prove that the orb hadn't killed Sheppard, that it had simply… misplaced him. To no avail.
On the fifth day, Elizabeth had finally made the announcement that Lt. Col. John Sheppard was dead, her voice full of pain and loss. Rodney refused to accept that, refused to believe that Sheppard was gone just like that. He would never believe it.
They thought he was mourning, that he was slowly coming to acknowledge the fact that Sheppard would never return to them. He let them believe that. It was easier than trying to explain why he sat in his lab each night after everyone had left, staring endlessly at the orb, trying to figure out a way to make it spill its secrets without taking it apart.
He closed his eyes, feeling more tired than he ever had before, his mind filled with images of a cocky smirk and wild hair.
~~~
Everyone seemed to believe he was dead. Well, everyone except for Rodney, and John was starting to wonder if maybe Rodney was wrong on this one. After all, John could now walk through walls and people alike, literally invisible to everyone but himself, and that alone was more than a little scary. He had screamed himself hoarse trying to get someone's attention, anyone's attention - no matter if that anyone was Lorne, Beckett, or Kavanagh.
When Elizabeth had walked through him while he tried to make himself noticed, he had given up. Instead, he'd wandered to the one place he was sure he'd find help.
Walking into Rodney's lab had felt like walking into a morgue. The lights had been dimmed, and there'd been no sound but the soft clickety-click of Rodney's and Radek's fingers racing over the keyboards of their laptops. The air had felt cold, too, although he thought he could have been imagining things. He hadn't really felt anything since Rodney's orb had zapped him.
Tonight, as usual, the lights were still on in lab one, even though it was way past midnight. Rodney sat in front of his workstation, looking exhausted, and John wished he could drag the scientist from the lab and force him to get some sleep. That would have required him not being dead, though, and since that seemed to be what had his friend looking so haggard in the first place, the whole thing was kind of a moot point. It was painful, watching Rodney stare at the goddamn orb, running his fingers lightly along the side and whispering, "please come back."
He'd seen Rodney tired and vulnerable before, but this made him hold his breath and something in his chest constrict, because no one should be so openly hurting, especially not Rodney. Not because of John.
It made him wish that he could reach out and touch the other man, to squeeze his shoulder, pat his back, anything that would chase away that awful loneliness from his friend's face.
John had always thought that the over-protectiveness they'd kept demonstrating towards each other was a sign of a deep and healthy friendship.
Now he wondered if he hadn't just been very, very blind.
~~~
On the seventeenth day, Elizabeth came into the lab, Radek hovering behind her.
"You ratted me out," Rodney stated, looking at him. Instead of accusing like he'd planned, it only came out tired.
"Rodney," Elizabeth said gently, "this isn't healthy. I know that John was your friend, but you'll have to accept that he's gone. We all have to."
With Teyla escaping to the mainland and Ronon following to keep her company, Rodney wondered how much 'accepting' was really going on, but he chose to keep that thought to himself. Instead, he tried to explain, again, what he was doing.
"That device didn't kill him, Elizabeth. It must have been malfunctioning, sending him to god knows where, so we really need to figure out a way to get him back."
She just shook her head.
"Rodney, all the tests you and Dr. Zelenka did showed no evidence that the device was in any way functioning like it was designed to do. If there was even a remote chance that John was still alive, I'd be the first one to give you all the time you need to figure this out, but, Rodney, you're chasing a ghost. I'm sorry, but I'm taking you off duty until Dr. Heightmeyer confirms that you've started to move on."
"What?! You can't do that!" Rodney sputtered, turning to Radek. "Tell her she can't do that!"
"I can, Rodney, and I will. I would prefer to keep you here, but I'll send you to Earth if I have to." Elizabeth's voice was hard, only her eyes betraying how much she hated doing this. "Please leave your work to Dr. Zelenka, and stay away from the labs."
She turned, and left, her back straight as she walked past a guilty-looking Radek. Rodney sighed, and started to shut down his laptop, knowing better than to fight a fight he had no chance of winning.
He was so tired of fighting.
His staff wasn't looking at him while he cleaned up his workstation, gathering the few things that had nothing to do with work. Radek grabbed his wrist as he reached for the orb.
"I don't think it would be wise to take that along."
Rodney stared at the hand around his wrist, then at the man who'd put an end to his research of Sheppard's disappearance. He didn't even feel resentful. He felt numb.
"If you ever were my friend," he said, "you will shut up now."
Radek made a face, but pulled his hand away, and Rodney slipped the orb into his pocket.
"Just make sure you don't get… misplaced."
He needn't have worried, but Rodney appreciated the sentiment. It was nice to have a friend who looked out for him.
It wasn't the one he wanted to be here, but it was nice.
~~~
John watched in horrified fascination as Rodney proceeded to get very, very drunk. He did it with the usual McKay determination: focussed, no-nonsense, and spectacularly successful.
"I really don't think that's the right way to go, McKay," he said as it became clear that Rodney intended to finish the entire bottle of whiskey by himself. The scientist had barely eaten anything over the last two weeks, just enough to keep him going, and this could only end badly.
Rodney obviously didn't care, pouring himself another glass, one-handed, and raising it in a mock-toast to the orb he held in his right.
"To the Ancients," he slurred. "Thank you for leaving us so many wonderful surprises."
John winced as his friend downed the whole glass in one go. Nice as it was to know you'd be missed when you were dead, this self-destructive behaviour had to stop.
Too bad he didn't know how to do that.
He stood leaning against the wall next to Rodney's dresser, watching him watch the orb with what could only be called resentment.
"Why the hell did you have to touch it?" Rodney demanded hoarsely. "I didn't tell you to touch it."
"I'm sorry," John said softly.
Of course, Rodney didn't hear him.
"You always do this, running into danger and expecting me to fix things. Well, I can't fix this!"
"I know." And he didn't really expect Rodney to get him back into the corporeal world, not anymore. He just wished there was a way to say goodbye.
"I can't fix this," Rodney repeated, his voice cracking. He stared at the orb, clutching it so hard his knuckles turned white, then his face contorted into a mask of grief and hatred. With an angry yell, he drew his arm back, and threw the orb as hard as he could against the far wall.
The orb shattered, and to John it was like he could feel every shard, every bit of brittle metal, pulling him apart to scatter his pieces across several dimensions.
He screamed.
~~~
"Sheppard!"
Rodney jumped up, whiskey glass falling forgotten to the floor as he hurried over to the man who had appeared out of nowhere, screaming before he collapsed right in front of Rodney's dresser, curled up in a foetal position and moaning with pain.
"Sheppard!"
He fell to his knees next to his friend, reaching for a trembling shoulder and giving an embarrassing, whimpering little sigh as his hand connected with the coarse fabric of Sheppard's black t-shirt, warm over heated skin. Sheppard pulled in a long, shaky breath and pushed back into his touch, body uncurling a little so he could turn his head.
Their eyes met, and Rodney clutched Sheppard's shoulder as hard as he could at the sight of those hazel eyes blinking up at him. It was something he'd never thought he'd see again.
"Rodney," Sheppard croaked, his voice hoarse from screaming, and Rodney had never heard a sweeter sound. It could have been the whiskey, or it could have been elation, that made him lean down and press his lips to Sheppard's.
He could feel the tremors that rocked his friend's slender frame, and he didn't really know if the soft noise Sheppard made indicated pain, disgust, or pleasure. And to be honest, he didn't really care. Kissing Sheppard seemed like the most natural thing in the world, right now, and he'd be damned if he'd stop unless Sheppard pushed him away.
If anything, Sheppard tried to get him closer, long fingers clutching his shirt and pulling feebly. Belatedly, though, Rodney realised that as nice as this was he'd better get the colonel into the infirmary, and he drew back, reluctant to lose even the tiniest bit of contact. Sheppard frowned as Rodney let him go to fumble for the radio that was hanging pretty askew on his ear.
"Infirmary, this is Dr. McKay. I have a medical emergency in my quarters. It's Sheppard," he added, then threw the radio away, ignoring the squawked questions. Looking down, he met Sheppard's slight smirk with raised eyebrows.
"Hi," his friend croaked. "Miss me?"
Rodney huffed.
"As a matter of fact, I did not. You are a complete and utter moron, and I have better things to do with my time than mourn your demise, especially since you weren't dead."
Sheppard's smirk grew wider.
"Yeah. I missed you, too."
And there was nothing to say to that, really. So Rodney just wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling him close, holding him until the medics arrived.
~~~
John woke in the infirmary, to the sound of Rodney hissing insults into his headset. He grinned, waiting until he had the scientist's attention, and then mouthed, "tyrant." Rodney rolled his eyes at him and added a few choice words about how it was getting really old that people started trying to blow up his city as soon as he turned his back.
It was all blessedly normal.
Once Rodney had finished his conversation, he looked expectantly at John, waiting, John knew, for his thank you.
"You are one tenacious bastard," he said, knowing Rodney would get it.
"Yes, yes, you're welcome."
They looked at each other for a long moment, then Rodney grabbed John's hand. He seemed determined to say something, but had obviously run fresh out of words.
John could relate.
He kept Rodney's hand in a tight grip of his own, marvelling at how it was big and warm and a little sweaty. Rodney cleared his throat.
"So, I hope you learned your lesson. No more touching things without asking me, first."
John raised his eyebrow and smirked lewdly, enjoying to see Rodney's cheeks flush.
"Oh, shut up."
~~~
End.