14 (12) Valentines 12: View Points
Title: View Points
Rating: R-ish for violence
Warnings: not-quite-character-death (Ascension). Also, the first few paragraphs may squick.
Summary: Rodney had used the Ancient's ascension machine to save John's life, ultimately giving up his own. It was a noble, selfless thing to do, and John wanted nothing more than to drag Rodney back and beat the shit out of him for doing it.
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
The link I'm asking you to click today: 14 Valentines: Voting
Notes: This story is for smuffster, who wanted Rodney whumpage (I kind of ended up whumping John more, though. Sorry?), and neery, who half a year ago or so asked for John, Rodney, and kneeling. Spoilers up to and including Tao of McKay, as well as for SG-1's 4x17, Absolute Power.
Beta by broet-chan, and history_gurl - Thank you! :D
~~~
Cover by smuffster
View Points
The Colonel's skull hit the wall with a sickening crack, and he fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Rodney's horrified, "Sheppard!" went unheard under Ronon's furious roar. The Gareesh didn't stand a chance against the berserk Satedan; it was barely a minute later that Rodney dropped to his knees beside his fallen friend, his eyes stinging at the sight of the sheer amount of blood that had pooled up around Sheppard's head.
"Head wounds always bleed a lot, no reason to worry," he told himself more than the others, and reached out a shaking hand to feel for a pulse, wondering why he didn't feel any relief when he found it, weak and fluttering. Instead, he just felt numb.
He had to force himself to feel for the actual injury, fingers getting tangled in Sheppard's hair where it was still dry, gliding freely over it where it was sticky with blood. Something shifted under his questing touch, gave under his fingers, and he just wanted to find a nice, quiet corner and throw up for an hour.
"How is he?" Teyla wanted to know, her voice tight with worry.
"Bad," Rodney answered, "really, really bad, and if we move him, we'll kill him."
"No choice," Ronon said simply, and he was right - there wasn't.
Miraculously, they got Sheppard back to Atlantis alive, but when Beckett had finished his examination, the look on his face alone was enough to make all hope evaporate.
"There were… several bone fragments from his skull have been driven into his brain," he told them. "They did an awful lot of damage. Irreparable damage." At Rodney's sickened expression, he added quickly, "It wasn't your fault. Most likely, the damage was already done by the time he started to fall."
The Colonel wouldn't survive the night, that was what it boiled down to. Sheppard's mind was already gone, killed by pieces of his own skull, and his body would follow within the next few hours. A whole life, snuffed out just like that.
Rodney stared at the empty shell of the man who, barely half a day ago, had been his best friend. He didn't think he could watch that man die. There had to be something he could do, anything to stop this.
With a sudden flash of clarity, he realised that there was.
He grabbed a flashlight and a few tools from his lab and walked to a little explored section of the city, where he undid Radek's changes on one particular device. Then he touched it, feeling that uncomfortable tingle spread through his body as the curved beam of energy enveloped him.
Half an hour later, he was back in the infirmary, using his re-found superpowers to pull Sheppard from the brink of death.
After that, it was pretty much déjà vu.
~~~
For the first few hours after Rodney was gone, all they did was wait. For that soft glow to fill the infirmary again, or for Rodney to just plop back into his human form among them. For anything, really.
Ronon was the first who gave up and left, lips pressed together in an expression more grim than any John had seen on the ex-Runner's face before. Teyla followed him, but not before laying a hand on Elizabeth's arm and mumbling, "I'm sure it will be fine," earning herself a nervous nod in return. Radek said something in Czech and went back to wherever he'd come from, and Carson excused himself with having to run some medical test or other, his eyes suspiciously bright. As were Elizabeth's, but she held it together proudly, her voice barely shaking as she told John, "I'll see you in the morning."
John was the last of them to remain in the silent infirmary, hands balled into fists as he stared at the empty bed, at the crumpled sheets. Words were burning on his tongue like acid: Clear blue skies, you asshole, not the whole cosmos, and what, suddenly we're not good enough for you, and don't do this. Please, don't do this. He hated feeling like he did; helpless, furious, absurdly guilty. Rodney had used the Ancient's ascension machine to save John's life, ultimately giving up his own. It was a noble, selfless thing to do, and John wanted nothing more than to drag Rodney back and beat the shit out of him for doing it. For succeeding at his second try and ascending. For leaving them behind without so much as a second thought.
In the end, he just muttered "Fuck," viciously, and kicked down an IV stand on his way out of the infirmary.
Rodney didn't come back.
~~~
Everyone learned quickly that it was better not to mention Dr. McKay's name when Colonel Sheppard was around.
He seemed to be the only one in the city who wasn't going through his own version of a grieving period. Instead of getting angry, or quiet, or sad whenever someone brought up a memory, John preferred to pretend there was nothing to get angry, or quiet, or sad about. Not exactly like Rodney had never existed, but not like he'd lost his best friend, either. Still, there was a rather stubborn little part of himself that kept holding on to a completely irrational resentment towards Rodney.
It was stupid, but John felt… betrayed. He'd taught Rodney the meditation thing to save his life, not to help him leave forever. What had happened to 'I'm me, I don't know how not to be me'? For that matter, what had happened to 'my life is infinitely more worthy than yours'? It hurt that after all his talk about eulogies, being good, and wanting to be cremated, Rodney had chosen the wonders of the universe over Atlantis. Probably not all that surprising, but still disappointing. There hadn't even been some kind of last goodbye, a short 'see you around', nothing. And that was what had John gritting his teeth and ignoring every little stab of pain, made him smother every thought of missing his friend, because he had expected more than that.
But it wasn't like they needed Rodney, anyway. Zelenka had come up with a way to recharge the ZPMs practically overnight, and it seemed like Dr. Altman had found out how to improve some of Atlantis' offensive weapons. Next time the Wraith knocked on their door, there'd be no frantic hiding; they'd shoot the fuckers right out the sky. And if not, Carson was pretty sure he knew how to improve his retrovirus so the changes were permanent.
And there were more breakthroughs, minor and major, like the science team could work so much easier without Rodney breathing down their necks. They were all better off without him. So why not forget about him altogether?
John didn't need him. Neither did anyone else.
~~~
It was Elizabeth who stumbled across the entry in the Ancient database.
"It seems the Ancients built this outpost early on, at the very beginning of the war against the Wraith."
"It's in space," John commented, studying the map he had accessed on his laptop.
"Yes." Elizabeth nodded. "Apparently, it was used to assemble the Ancient warships, like the Aurora."
"Or the Orion," John interjected, then made a shutting up now gesture when Elizabeth threw him an impatient look.
"There is a Stargate on a moon nearby," she continued, pointedly making a pause, waiting for him to say anything. Wisely, he didn't. "I want you to take a jumper and see if there is anything left in this outpost we can use. At the very least, there should be some raw materials left. Radek tells me some of our jumpers are in desperate need of an overhaul."
"Yes, and we think there might be technical manuals and diagrams left in the outpost's computer systems." Radek pushed up his glasses, clearly excited. "If those are still intact."
"Right. But we have no idea if the Wraith have already found this outpost, so we'll do some recon first. The scientists can come play, later." Not that John had any issues with taking a scientist or two along on a recon mission, especially one through space, when no one would actually leave the jumper. But, right now, his team consisted of three people. He wanted to keep it that way, at least for a while.
Elizabeth let him.
"All right. Prepare for the mission, you'll leave in one hour."
There were no Wraith anywhere near the moon when they emerged from the Gate, only the Ancient outpost: a giant space station that would take them about half an hour to reach. It wasn't really visible on anything but the HUD for now, looking like a big box with an upturned bowl stuck on top of it. Unlit before the surrounding stars, it hung before them like a shadow, a rectangular hole in space.
Five minutes into their flight, Teyla sighed.
"It is quiet. I will admit, I miss the talking."
"Well, I'd say complain to Rodney about that," John offered, "but I don't think he's listening." He was probably off somewhere watching a star go nova or something like that. Not that John cared.
"You do not think he's still around? Watching over us?"
John tried not to grit his teeth.
"I think the only thing he's watching is the universe at large. Why bother with insignificant stuff, like, say, people?"
He didn't need to look to know Ronon and Teyla were exchanging a long, meaningful glance.
"I do not think Rodney regarded you as insignificant. He cared about you," she said cautiously. "More than you know."
Great, now he was the abandoned love interest. And didn't that make him feel all special.
"Sure he did," John agreed easily, "I guess he just couldn't show it. That's why he left."
His voice didn't hold any bitterness. Why should it: even if Rodney had 'cared about him', it didn't mean that John had, too. Because he hadn't; otherwise, wouldn't he be devastated instead of - all right, he could admit it - angry? Last time, he'd said he loved Rodney in the way a friend loved another friend. That was all, and he wasn't even so sure about that one anymore. Maybe 'love' had been too strong a word in the first place.
And when the hell had this discussion become about him, anyway? They treated him like he was pining after someone unattainable, for god's sake.
"John-" Teyla tried again, but he interrupted her.
"I'm picking up an energy reading. Got to be the outpost." He wasn't pining, and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about it. Because there was nothing to talk about.
She sighed, but let him have his way. A lot of people did that, lately. If John was being honest, he wasn't above using everyone's strange notion of his not coping for his own advantage. If they wanted to make his personal life their business, he didn't think they deserved any better.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the space station. Experimentally, John thought, on. All around them, the outpost lit up like a Christmas tree, automatic systems connecting with the jumper and displaying all kinds of information. The scientists would go crazy over the knowledge they could gather from the space station's database. But that wasn't what made Teyla gasp, or Ronon lean forward in interest. It was the huge, transparent dome above them, easily large enough to hold half of Atlantis, that made John wonder if someone up there had decided that Lt. Col. John Sheppard had been a good boy this past year. Because there, white and untouched like a virgin queen, majestic against her background of stars, was a completely assembled spaceship.
John stared.
"Cool."
~~~
Once the scientists had gotten over their collective orgasm and John had taken the Virgo on a test flight - or six - Atlantis slowly went back to business as usual. John still hadn't chosen a fourth member for his team, and Elizabeth wasn't trying to make him. They went on missions, they worked stuff out, they came back home.
They were doing fine.
Of course, he should have known that sooner or later, their luck would run out. He didn't even know what the people of the world they'd been visiting called themselves, just that they were a medieval culture, superstitious, but friendly. The group had split up early on; Teyla and Ronon gong off with one of the local town leaders to inspect the crops, as they both understood more about farming and food than John. In hindsight, he should have gone with them, instead of checking out some side street market. In hindsight, of course, he simply shouldn't have used his radio. Apparently, people who were talking to thin air were clearly possessed by evil spirits. And in this culture, dealing with possessed people was very simple.
Their heads were chopped off.
John wasn't even locked up in a cell or put on trial or anything else that would have given anyone time to mount a rescue mission. He was simply overwhelmed by an angry and scared mob who dragged him along to the public square. Word had to have spread bushfire fast, because the executioner was already waiting in front of a low wooden block, wearing a huge, sharp axe in his belt. Grinning at John as he stepped aside.
The sight made John double his efforts to free himself, pulling every dirty trick he knew and succeeding in breaking someone's nose, along with a few other things. His reward was a hard blow to the head that stunned him, made it easy for them to push him to his knees. His arms were yanked behind his back, wrists tied together, making him chuckle against the wood as the executioner pressed him face down on the block. He'd be bound for, what, a minute before they killed him?
There was no way out. Even if he'd still had his weapon, he'd have to mow down almost the entire town to get away. Everybody and their dog seemed to have come to view the spectacle, chatting and crying and calling for the executioner to get on with it already.
He wondered how many people had died like this before him - on another block, maybe, because this one was still free of blood. He wondered if a fourth team member might have made a difference, or if they would have been killed by proxy. He wondered if a minute was enough to concentrate on clear blue skies, to release his burden.
He wondered if he'd see Rodney. And then he wondered where that thought had come from.
A fresh breeze whirled over the crowded square, bringing the smell of summer-sweetness instead of the stink of the unwashed mob around him, cooling the sweat on his face and ruffling his hair. John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Clear blue skies.
It wasn't clear blue skies what appeared in front of his mind's eye, though. It was the blue eyes of a man who'd been as close to him as a brother might have. John could picture him easily, chin smugly raised, wearing that mocking little smirk of his, and suddenly, it all clicked together. They way people had solved the city's problems seemingly in their sleep. The way Elizabeth had discovered one important database entry among several billion insignificant ones. All those small coincidences around the team, good fortune wherever they went.
Rodney. Circumventing that damn non-interference rule in whatever ways he could to help them out, to share his knowledge. Watching out for his people with that typical, stubborn McKay loyalty.
John should have known that Rodney wouldn't just leave them. He of all people should have had a little faith, and now, seconds before his death, he didn't even have the time to regret. Or to apologise.
"I'm sorry," he nevertheless told the air around him, needing Rodney to know that he was. The breeze returned a little stronger, making him smile. Trust Rodney to keep his priorities thoroughly jumbled; but least John would die with a nice smell in his nose. Time slowed down as the executioner raised his axe. John could feel the uneven ground, small stones digging into his knees as he knelt in front of the block, rough wood scratching against his cheek, fingers tingling already from cut-off circulation, the executioner's hand between his shoulder blades, pressing him down.
The handle snapped. There was a loud cry of pain as the axe head hit someone in the crowd behind him, followed by an uncomfortable murmur as John snorted, hysterical laughter bubbling in the back of his throat. Way to go, Rodney. The executioner cursed, then his hands came up around John's neck.
"Nice try, buddy," John managed, then hard fingers closed around his throat, digging into the flesh, cutting off his air. He bucked and twisted, but the executioner's knee was pressed against his back, keeping him down. So this was it, he was really going to die. Until that moment, he hadn't really believed it. Along with the realisation came a strange, calm acceptance, and for a single moment, John felt almost peaceful.
The loud crash of thunder jerked him back into reality, just as the fingers around his neck went slack and fell away. John blinked as another bolt of lightning slammed into the middle of the crowd, sending people running and screaming to find some kind of cover. The breeze had become a roaring wind, smashing flowerpots and slamming doors, and all John could do was kneel in front of his block, face pressed against the wood, shoulders hunched as he tried to make as small a target as possible for the gale. Abruptly, the wind stopped, and the bindings around John's wrists snapped. He grunted as the circulation returned to his aching shoulders and numb fingers, then he got up, almost tripping over the executioner's charred corpse as he stumbled away from the block.
When he looked up again, Rodney was standing a few feet away from him in the middle of the dirty street. His friend was wearing a simple green t-shirt, light brown slacks, and a pair of well-worn sneakers. He looked achingly normal.
"I-" John's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, tried again. "Nice work. Thanks."
"Yes, well, um, never mind." Rodney smiled a little, but it looked uncomfortable. "I, ah, just crossed a line here. I'm afraid you'll be on your own now."
"One interference too many?" John asked, trying to make it sound like a joke, even though it wasn't. His heart was pounding, and he desperately needed a distraction from the sudden feeling of… longing, he guessed.
"Something like that, yes."
Meaning that now Rodney would be punished by the Ancients for caring too much. John didn't even want to think about what the possible consequences might be, but he had to know.
"What'll they do to you?"
Rodney shrugged. "Much as it pains me to admit it: I don't know."
Their conversation had a strangely detached feeling, like they were just chatting. Like Rodney hadn't been gone for almost two months; like it wasn't entirely possible he'd be locked up or cast out or banned to the end of the universe for all eternity.
"Maybe they'll just kick you out, like Dr. Jackson," John tried.
"Perhaps. I'm not sure if I should hope for that, actually." Now Rodney was looking a little forlorn, and John hated that. Hated that this might be their last conversation, ever, and he didn't have anything meaningful to offer. He cleared his throat, knowing that for once, he'd have to do better than sideways glances and friendly pats on a shoulder.
"Look, Rodney. About this whole ascension thing. I should have trusted you." After all, how often had he asked Rodney to trust him? "I'm sorry."
Rodney actually blinked at that. "Are you feeling all right, Colonel? Any nausea, dizziness, headache? That blow to the head must have been harder than it looked."
John would have laughed at Rodney's concerned expression if it hadn't been so sad. Just what kind of friendship had they been sharing, that a simple apology came as such a surprise? Rodney had to know how important he was, right? He just had to.
"Rodney. I, uh." John swallowed, took a deep breath. "I care. About you. Just… you know that, right?"
Rodney ducked his head and smiled slightly. Then, from one blink to the next, he was gone, like he'd never been there at all.
Leaving John to wonder if that was a yes, or a no.
~~~
Now that he was actually admitting that he missed Rodney, John wanted him back. More than he'd ever wanted anything before, even more than flying, and the fierceness of his own feelings scared him a little. For once, though, he wasn't running away from them.
"I'm just saying that we should take a jumper and see if we can find any more life signs."
He was alone with Elizabeth in her office, trying to convince her to give him more time and it was frustrating as hell. It had been three weeks since Rodney had saved his life and disappeared, and John wasn't prepared to give up. Too bad he seemed to be pretty alone with that sentiment.
"John," Elizabeth tried to placate him, "we've already been to every world we know."
John licked his lips, took a deep breath, and forced himself to be patient.
"Well, then we'll go again." Why was he suddenly the only one who seemed to give a shit what had happened to Rodney?
"We don't even know if he has really been forced to de-ascend. John, this is like rummaging through a haystack in search for a needle that may or may not be there at all. I want him back as much as you do, but for three weeks, all we've done is search - we can't afford to keep using our resources like that."
"So you'll just leave him behind."
"I'm not leaving anyone behind," Elizabeth said angrily. "But the SGC thinks that this is the wrong approach."
"The SGC can't-"
"I agree with them," she interrupted. "There won't be any more searching teams."
"Elizabeth-"
"I will not discuss this, John."
"Yes, ma'am."
John saluted smartly, just to see her press her lips together, then he turned and left her office before he did something stupid. Rage was coiling in his gut, disappointment, still that strange longing, and he needed a way to let those feelings go without hurting anyone but himself.
He went to Ronon.
"Spar with me."
Thankfully, Ronon didn't ask any questions - he just let John vent his anger, his jumbled emotions, and didn't hold back too much. At least, John didn't think so; his entire body was bruised and aching by the time they were done.
"Thanks."
"'S okay." Ronon shrugged. "You want to go for a run?"
He didn't, not really, feeling thoroughly beaten up, but running was nicely mindless. And if he kept pushing himself to his limits, maybe he'd be able to sleep that night. Without the sickening feeling he was leaving someone important behind.
Without the constant replay of that small smile Rodney had given him before he'd disappeared, and the question of what it had meant.
Summoning his last reserves to pick up the pace once more, John ran.
~~~
John dreamed.
He was wearing his SGC uniform, sitting on his jacket at the foot of a dune that might have been in Afghanistan, or Egypt, or really in any other desert. In front of him, a little boy was sitting cross-legged in the sand, wearing an orange and yellow robe and sandals. His hair was short, and his eyes Asian. He looked like a very young Dalai Lama as he met John's puzzled stare without hesitation, and smiled. John looked around.
"Is there a point to this?"
Grasping a handful of small stones, the boy began to play with them, arranging them in strange patterns across the sand.
"Dreams teach," he said.
Okay. "What do they teach?"
The boy was concentrating on the stones now, grabbing another handful to continue laying them out like a strange kind of solitaire. "The way."
It was a typical dream answer, and yet, for a dream, this felt strangely off. There was nothing of the usual fuzziness, the sudden changes of his surroundings, and usually, John wasn't aware he'd been dreaming until he woke up. Still, he was willing to play along, for a while.
"The way to what?" he asked.
"Two halves are a whole, but a missing spoke does not mean the wheel is broken."
John frowned. "What?"
The boy's soft smile stayed for a moment, then he widened his eyes at something behind John, looking startled. John turned around, but all he saw was sand. Great, he'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Turning back to the boy, he opened his mouth for another question, and stopped.
The kid was gone.
There wasn't even a depression in the sand where he'd been sitting, only the short pattern of stones left behind. John picked up his jacket and wondered what would happen next. From the corner of his eye, the stone patterns looked different, almost familiar, and he stepped around to see what they looked like from the boy's point of view.
And held his breath as he stared down.
There, neatly arranged in the sand, lay the seven symbols of a Gate address.
~~~
"So you're saying you dreamed the address to the world where the Ancients left Rodney." Elizabeth sounded sceptical. John couldn't say he blamed her.
"I know it sounds strange. But I've read everything the SGC gave us on Ancients and ascended beings, and I'll bet you a year's pay that boy was Shifu. You know, the ascended kid?"
"Why would Shifu come all the way out here to tell you about Rodney?"
"I don't know, maybe he wanted to help, maybe it's a step on his path to enlightenment." John ran a hand through his hair and decided to try another approach. "Look, let's just dial the address, see if we can get a lock, send a MALP. If it's a planet that's inhabitable, I'll take my team and have a look."
"John, we already had this discussion."
"No," he told her, "we didn't. You didn't want to look for a needle in a haystack. This isn't a haystack, it's one address. We'll be away for what, five hours? Six?"
"John-"
"Let me go." This was a last chance he'd been given, he could feel it. One way or another, his search would end today. "And I won't ask you again."
Elizabeth looked at him, calculating and serious. Then she nodded.
"All right. Go."
John gave her his own nod, a silent thank-you, and jogged out of her office, already radioing his team. Barely fifteen minutes later, they stood in the control room, fully geared up, waiting for the MALP's transmission.
"Breathable atmosphere, signs of population near the Gate," the technician on duty announced, and John let out a deep breath.
They had a mission.
~~~
The planet's population turned out to be yet another medieval culture. There was a small town close by the Gate, with stone buildings and cobblestone streets that looked like Earth in an earlier century, and not for the first time John wished that nose plugs were part of their gear. The town stank. It seemed to be market day; there were pigs and chickens running around between dirty, laughing children, and what had to be at least three hundred people on the streets. John cursed inwardly - in this chaos, he'd have a hard time finding even Teyla, and at least he knew she was there. They could walk around the town for hours and peek into every single house, and still not be sure they'd seen everyone who lived there. And there was always the possibility that Rodney wasn't even in this town, but somewhere else on the planet.
Needle in a haystack. Right.
But still, John was sure the boy had told him how to find Rodney; he just hadn't anticipated it to turn out this difficult, this complicated.
He hadn't anticipated his completely irrational nervousness or the way his heart was pounding, either. It felt like he was running high on adrenaline, which made no sense. It was Rodney they were looking for - a friend, sure, but hardly a reason for John to feel like he had just before his first date.
He stopped, abruptly, in the middle of the crowded street. He'd felt that way around Rodney before, but he'd always blamed it on recent missions, or on missions to come, or on the workout he'd just had. Not once had he thought that maybe, just maybe, he should associate the feeling with Rodney himself. The friend who wasn't, apparently, and boy, did John feel stupid. He'd always known he wasn't all that in touch with his own emotions; this, though, this was a whole new level of 'didn't see this coming'.
He needed to sort this out, later. For now, he'd better get moving again, before Elizabeth called in to tell them they'd had enough time. But before he could, someone bumped into him from behind.
"Hey! If you'll just stand there gaping like an idiot, at least get out of the way," a male voice complained, and John spun around even as he heard Teyla's surprised gasp next to him, saw the shock on Ronon's face.
The man before them was clad in a simple tunic and a pair of woollen trousers to go with his leather sandals. His hair had grown a little longer, curling over his ears and in the nape of his neck, but his eyes were just the same startling blue John remembered. John felt like he couldn't breathe, staring at the familiar face of a man he'd thought lost. Of all the ways to find him-
"Why are you staring at me like that? Is there something on my face, or are you just retarded?" Rodney mocked them, smirking. Then suddenly, he frowned, before his expression changed to one of wary hope. "Wait, do you know me?"
John opened his mouth, and the only thing that came out was a croak. He swallowed and tried again, saying the only thing he could.
"Rodney."
The blue eyes stared at him without recognition. They'd known, of course, that amnesia was a real possibility, but being treated like strangers by Rodney, who'd known them for years, felt surreal. Awkward.
It hurt.
"Rodney." Rodney said it slowly, like he was testing the sound. "That would be my name?"
"Yeah. Dr. Rodney McKay, that's you. I'm John Sheppard, that's Teyla Emmagan, and the big guy's Ronon Dex."
"We're your team," Ronon added helpfully, just as Teyla said, "We have missed you very much." Both were smiling.
"Huh." Rodney looked at every one of them in turn, and John tried to appear as friendly and open as possible. "Well, I don't think-"
He broke off with a gasp, doubling over, and would have fallen if John hadn't caught him. "Rodney!"
Rodney gave a choked little moan, the one he always made before he lost his consciousness, and it was enough warning for John to tighten his hold. A second later, Rodney sagged against him, eyes closed, a little blood trickling from his nose. John held him helplessly, heart flipping anxiously in his chest as he stared at Ronon and Teyla's horrified expressions. This wasn't how they'd imagined their reunion. Around them, people stared, pointing and murmuring.
"Help me carry him," John ordered, but Ronon plucked Rodney out of his arms entirely, cradling the scientist like a small child.
"Let's go," the ex-Runner grunted, and John gave a sharp nod.
"Hey! Where are you taking him?" a woman called behind them as they started on the short way back to the Gate. John answered her over his shoulder, without looking back.
"Home."
~~~
Nobody had actually believed they'd bring Rodney back, so when the team stepped out of the Stargate and into the gateroom, it was into barely controlled chaos. John had radioed ahead to have a medical team on standby, and he watched as Ronon carefully placed Rodney on a gurney, as Rodney was whisked away.
"What's wrong with him?" Elizabeth asked, suddenly standing next to him.
"I don't know. He just collapsed all of a sudden."
"I can't believe you found him," she said quietly. "Go to the infirmary. He should have someone close."
John didn't need to be told twice.
He settled down in his usual place in front of the infirmary, joined by Teyla and Ronon barely a minute after he'd arrived. Radek dropped by a short while after, as did Elizabeth. They didn't have to wait long before Carson let them in, leading them to a curtained-off bed at the back of the infirmary.
Rodney was still unconscious, hooked up, John thought, to exactly the same monitors he'd been before he'd died. The thought made him feel queasy - this was the third time Rodney was lying here like this. The first time, they'd been lucky. The second time, he'd died, for John, turning death into ascension. John didn't want to imagine what he'd do if Rodney died for real this time, punished for saving John's life once again. He didn't think he'd be able to cope if that happened.
"So. What's wrong with him?" John asked, nodding at the still figure of his best friend. The man he loved, apparently.
"To be honest, I'm not sure." Carson looked tired and a little sick as he stared down at Rodney. "It doesn't seem to be a physical problem, but his brain patterns are all over the place. His EEG's going from comatose to hyperactive one minute, and back again the next. I don't know what's causing it."
John twisted a fist into Rodney's blanket, and had to force himself to let go again.
"But he'll be all right, right?"
"You said he couldn't remember you, back on the planet?"
"Yes," Teyla answered Carson's question. "He had no recollection of who he was. It was most… disturbing."
The Scottish doctor nodded. "Aye, this is actually very similar to what Dr. Jackson was experiencing. But he didn't collapse, not like Rodney did. His brain's working overtime - it could be his memories returning, or it could be his subconscious trying to ascend again. I hope it's the former, but-" Carson spread his hands in a helpless gesture.
"So I guess we'll know when he wakes up," Ronon stated gruffly, surprising them.
"Certainly. When he wakes up." Carson tried to smile reassuringly, but the good doctor had never been very good at lying. John went to grab a nearby chair and sat down, trying not to look suspicious as he rested his hand on the bed, close to Rodney's. From the looks of those around him, he didn't quite succeed.
"We'll wait, then," he said, daring them to make a comment or try to make him move.
Elizabeth nodded, and reached for another chair. "Yes. We'll wait."
~~~
They waited all through the night and well into the next afternoon before the EEG made a strange beeping noise that had Carson hurry over and stare at the readings, ignoring John's alarmed look.
"It looks like he's-
A small moan from Rodney interrupted him, and the three of them - Carson, John, and Elizabeth - stared at the scientist as his eyes fluttered open. He blinked at them, then his gaze focussed on Carson.
"Carson?"
The doctor broke into a brilliant smile. "Oh, aye, lad. Can I take it you remember where you are, then?"
"Infirmary?" Rodney offered in a voice that clearly implied, 'duh'.
John thought if his heart pounded any more fiercely, it might just break through his ribcage and go squat on the floor. In fact, he was a little surprised that the constant emotional up and down hadn't given him a stroke yet.
"Hey, buddy," he said, giving in and grabbing Rodney's hand. He squeezed slightly, delighted when the gesture was returned and Rodney gave him a tired smile. "Remember me?" he asked, congratulating himself on his casual tone.
Rodney pretended to think about it. "You're the guy who reads golfing magazines when he's trying to teach someone the fine art of meditation?"
"Yeah, that would be me." John grinned ruefully, and squeezed Rodney's hand again, just for the thrill of it. It was the only way he could keep himself from beaming at everyone in their general vicinity.
"Rodney." Now Elizabeth stepped forward, looking as happy as she ever had. "We're so glad to have you back."
"As well you should," Rodney returned, still smiling. Then he looked back at John. "How did you find me?"
"I, uh, had a hunch." John shrugged, then the implications of Rodney's question sank in and he leaned forward. "Wait, are you saying you remember being ascended?"
"That's not possible. Dr. Jackson said his memory of the time he spent with the Ancients never returned. They blocked it," Elizabeth interjected.
Rodney shook his head. "I remember… being places. I remember you," he pointed at John with a reproving gesture, "almost having your head cut off. The knowledge of the inner workings of the universe is gone, though, I'm afraid." He grimaced. "I guess keeping that would have been too much to ask."
"But how did you manage to hold on to those memories in the first place?" Elizabeth wanted to know. "I thought that was impossible."
Surprisingly, it was Carson who answered. "Maybe it's because Rodney ascended on his own. I think Dr. Jackson only managed to do so with the help of Oma Desala."
"Rodney only managed with the help of a machine," John pointed out, ignoring Rodney's annoyed huff, but Carson shook his head.
"He's not the only one who used it. The proper state of mind, he had to reach all on his own."
"Clear blue skies," Rodney mumbled, and yawned.
"Rest," Elizabeth told him. "We'll have enough time to talk about this."
Rodney nodded, half asleep already, and John stood up, reluctantly releasing his hold on Rodney's hand. Carson and Elizabeth were talking in hushed tones as they walked away. If he could, John would have stayed, but he knew it would only make him look suspicious, now Rodney had turned out to be okay. He'd just come back later with Ronon and Teyla.
There was something he had to know before he left, though. And damn if his heart wasn't pounding again.
"You remember the thing I told you?" he asked. "After almost having my head cut off?"
"You mean the concussion talk?" Rodney's eyes were barely open now. Obviously, he did remember, even if he still didn't think John had meant what he'd said.
If Rodney had died, he still wouldn't have known-
"I wasn't concussed," John told him quietly, but his only answer was a soft sigh. Moments later, Rodney started to snore.
Giving a sigh of his own, John patted his friend's hand, and left.
~~~
Two days later, Rodney was discharged from the infirmary. There was nothing wrong with him, besides the lingering tendency to tire very easily. Carson thought it was because his mind needed to get used to having a body again. Rodney said it was because the stupid theories of those around him were enough to put a man to sleep. He added a pointed look at Carson, who threw up his hands and said he couldn't possibly understand how anyone could have missed the most exasperating man in two galaxies. Rodney had answered with a yawn.
John had made sure to be there when Rodney was released, so he could be the one to accompany the scientist to his quarters. It hadn't been easy to get Rodney's things back from Earth so quickly, and he didn't even want to know what the SGC had told Jeannie. He suspected there'd be a trip to Toronto in Rodney's near future, though. But for now, the important thing was that Rodney's quarters looked like they always had, and not like the scientist had been gone for almost four months.
Four months. It didn't sound all that long, but it had felt like an eternity. Especially those last three weeks, when John had been desperately clinging to the belief that his friend was still alive, not daring to doubt for even one second, because he'd known his conviction would shatter like the brittle thing it was if he did.
He and Rodney hadn't talked about the caring thing again, and John wondered how he should raise the topic. He didn't think he could pull off the casual approach - he'd never been good at this personal stuff. Rodney didn't really strike him as the type for romantic declarations, either, but keeping it silent and hoping they'd just kind of drift together was probably asking for too much.
John still hadn't decided what to do when Rodney finished his inspection of his neat and tidy rooms with a satisfied grunt, and yet another yawn. He'd been quickly running out of energy over the last few minutes, but determinedly made sure that everything was in its place.
As if John could have ever forgotten what had been where when he'd cleaned out Rodney's quarters, boxed everything up, and then stood in the main room telling himself he wasn't lonely.
"Please don't take this the wrong way," Rodney said, eyeing his bed with obvious longing, "but I'm really tired."
Yeah. And there went another opportunity to talk. John made sure not to show his disappointment.
"All right." He gave his friend a pat on the shoulder, not above taking cheap measures to get a little physical contact. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow."
He turned around and walked to the door, but Rodney's hand on his arm stopped him.
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, sounding cranky and irritated.
Now John was confused. "You just said-"
"Look," Rodney interrupted him, "I'm also tired of waiting for you to make up your mind. So can we just pretend we've had the whole relationship talk already and simply go to sleep?"
"I-" I'm not tired, John wanted to say, except he was. He had lost Rodney, then he'd had to find him again, and then he'd been agonising over the if and how to get what he wanted, so saying he hadn't slept all that well would have been something of an understatement. Still…
"Just like that? You think it's that easy?"
"I don't see why not. Why does everything have to be complicated?"
And maybe Rodney had kept some of the knowledge he'd found when he'd been ascended, because there was just no way the Rodney McKay from before would have said something like that. But this, Rodney offering himself so casually, this was something John would have to be crazy to refuse.
He was a lot of things. Crazy wasn't one of them.
Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Actually, I am a little tired," he said, casually, pretending not to notice Rodney's smirk, pretending not to be nervous when he shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over the back of a nearby chair. He sat down on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots, not looking up as Rodney sat down next to him to do the same. Neither of them moved after they'd pulled off their boots, both staring at their socked feet. After a moment, Rodney's shoulder bumped against his own.
"I feel like a virgin on her first date," he complained. "Any more excited, and I'm going to have a stroke."
"Well, sorry to be the one to tell you," John drawled, "but you are a virgin."
Rodney's indignant squawk made him grin.
"I am not!"
"Brand new body, Rodney."
"No, it's not! I've still got all my scars, see?"
Rodney yanked his shirt over his head, and John's mouth went dry at the sight of that broad, naked chest. He licked his lips, reaching out to touch the round, puckered scar a few inches to the left of Rodney's heart.
"Yeah," he croaked. "I can see that."
Rodney had blushed a little, but met John's gaze steadily. "Can we please concentrate on now? You'll have plenty of time to feel guilty for shooting me."
John swallowed, and nodded, closing his eyes as Rodney leaned forward. Their lips met softly, hesitantly, like each of them was afraid the other would pull away in disgust. It didn't happen, though, so John brought up his hand to cradle Rodney's neck as he deepened the contact. Rodney's mouth opened a little under his, and he caressed those lips with his own, learning their shape. Then Rodney's arm sneaked around John's waist, and he could feel the first flicker of a tongue over his lower lip. He answered in kind, the tips of their tongues touching, and then Rodney yawned. John chuckled, giving him another quick kiss.
"Guess we better continue this after your beauty sleep."
"Oh please, like you aren't tired."
But Rodney was already fumbling with his belt, eyes half-lidded and unfocussed, so John stood up to shed his own clothes until all he was wearing were his boxers. Rodney had already settled in beneath the blanket, holding one side up for John to join him. He didn't need to be told twice.
The bed, although broader than the first ones they'd slept on, was still kind of narrow for them to fit on. But John didn't care, quite the opposite: it forced him to lie closer to Rodney, who was miraculously alive and breathing next to him. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body, to press his nose against Rodney's shoulder and inhale that familiar scent. He yawned as well, suddenly a lot more tired than he'd thought.
"I still think you had a concussion," Rodney said softly, snorting as John sneaked an arm around his waist and pinched his belly in retaliation. "Possibly brain damaged," he added.
"Nah. Just, maybe, fallen a little too hard." There was a short moment of silence, then Rodney grasped John's hand that was still resting on his belly, squeezing firmly.
"Well, uh, at the risk of sounding like a girl: I'll catch you."
John smiled and closed his eyes, safe in the knowledge that when he opened them again, Rodney would be there.
~~~
End.
Rating: R-ish for violence
Warnings: not-quite-character-death (Ascension). Also, the first few paragraphs may squick.
Summary: Rodney had used the Ancient's ascension machine to save John's life, ultimately giving up his own. It was a noble, selfless thing to do, and John wanted nothing more than to drag Rodney back and beat the shit out of him for doing it.
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
The link I'm asking you to click today: 14 Valentines: Voting
Notes: This story is for smuffster, who wanted Rodney whumpage (I kind of ended up whumping John more, though. Sorry?), and neery, who half a year ago or so asked for John, Rodney, and kneeling. Spoilers up to and including Tao of McKay, as well as for SG-1's 4x17, Absolute Power.
Beta by broet-chan, and history_gurl - Thank you! :D
~~~
Cover by smuffster
View Points
The Colonel's skull hit the wall with a sickening crack, and he fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Rodney's horrified, "Sheppard!" went unheard under Ronon's furious roar. The Gareesh didn't stand a chance against the berserk Satedan; it was barely a minute later that Rodney dropped to his knees beside his fallen friend, his eyes stinging at the sight of the sheer amount of blood that had pooled up around Sheppard's head.
"Head wounds always bleed a lot, no reason to worry," he told himself more than the others, and reached out a shaking hand to feel for a pulse, wondering why he didn't feel any relief when he found it, weak and fluttering. Instead, he just felt numb.
He had to force himself to feel for the actual injury, fingers getting tangled in Sheppard's hair where it was still dry, gliding freely over it where it was sticky with blood. Something shifted under his questing touch, gave under his fingers, and he just wanted to find a nice, quiet corner and throw up for an hour.
"How is he?" Teyla wanted to know, her voice tight with worry.
"Bad," Rodney answered, "really, really bad, and if we move him, we'll kill him."
"No choice," Ronon said simply, and he was right - there wasn't.
Miraculously, they got Sheppard back to Atlantis alive, but when Beckett had finished his examination, the look on his face alone was enough to make all hope evaporate.
"There were… several bone fragments from his skull have been driven into his brain," he told them. "They did an awful lot of damage. Irreparable damage." At Rodney's sickened expression, he added quickly, "It wasn't your fault. Most likely, the damage was already done by the time he started to fall."
The Colonel wouldn't survive the night, that was what it boiled down to. Sheppard's mind was already gone, killed by pieces of his own skull, and his body would follow within the next few hours. A whole life, snuffed out just like that.
Rodney stared at the empty shell of the man who, barely half a day ago, had been his best friend. He didn't think he could watch that man die. There had to be something he could do, anything to stop this.
With a sudden flash of clarity, he realised that there was.
He grabbed a flashlight and a few tools from his lab and walked to a little explored section of the city, where he undid Radek's changes on one particular device. Then he touched it, feeling that uncomfortable tingle spread through his body as the curved beam of energy enveloped him.
Half an hour later, he was back in the infirmary, using his re-found superpowers to pull Sheppard from the brink of death.
After that, it was pretty much déjà vu.
~~~
For the first few hours after Rodney was gone, all they did was wait. For that soft glow to fill the infirmary again, or for Rodney to just plop back into his human form among them. For anything, really.
Ronon was the first who gave up and left, lips pressed together in an expression more grim than any John had seen on the ex-Runner's face before. Teyla followed him, but not before laying a hand on Elizabeth's arm and mumbling, "I'm sure it will be fine," earning herself a nervous nod in return. Radek said something in Czech and went back to wherever he'd come from, and Carson excused himself with having to run some medical test or other, his eyes suspiciously bright. As were Elizabeth's, but she held it together proudly, her voice barely shaking as she told John, "I'll see you in the morning."
John was the last of them to remain in the silent infirmary, hands balled into fists as he stared at the empty bed, at the crumpled sheets. Words were burning on his tongue like acid: Clear blue skies, you asshole, not the whole cosmos, and what, suddenly we're not good enough for you, and don't do this. Please, don't do this. He hated feeling like he did; helpless, furious, absurdly guilty. Rodney had used the Ancient's ascension machine to save John's life, ultimately giving up his own. It was a noble, selfless thing to do, and John wanted nothing more than to drag Rodney back and beat the shit out of him for doing it. For succeeding at his second try and ascending. For leaving them behind without so much as a second thought.
In the end, he just muttered "Fuck," viciously, and kicked down an IV stand on his way out of the infirmary.
Rodney didn't come back.
~~~
Everyone learned quickly that it was better not to mention Dr. McKay's name when Colonel Sheppard was around.
He seemed to be the only one in the city who wasn't going through his own version of a grieving period. Instead of getting angry, or quiet, or sad whenever someone brought up a memory, John preferred to pretend there was nothing to get angry, or quiet, or sad about. Not exactly like Rodney had never existed, but not like he'd lost his best friend, either. Still, there was a rather stubborn little part of himself that kept holding on to a completely irrational resentment towards Rodney.
It was stupid, but John felt… betrayed. He'd taught Rodney the meditation thing to save his life, not to help him leave forever. What had happened to 'I'm me, I don't know how not to be me'? For that matter, what had happened to 'my life is infinitely more worthy than yours'? It hurt that after all his talk about eulogies, being good, and wanting to be cremated, Rodney had chosen the wonders of the universe over Atlantis. Probably not all that surprising, but still disappointing. There hadn't even been some kind of last goodbye, a short 'see you around', nothing. And that was what had John gritting his teeth and ignoring every little stab of pain, made him smother every thought of missing his friend, because he had expected more than that.
But it wasn't like they needed Rodney, anyway. Zelenka had come up with a way to recharge the ZPMs practically overnight, and it seemed like Dr. Altman had found out how to improve some of Atlantis' offensive weapons. Next time the Wraith knocked on their door, there'd be no frantic hiding; they'd shoot the fuckers right out the sky. And if not, Carson was pretty sure he knew how to improve his retrovirus so the changes were permanent.
And there were more breakthroughs, minor and major, like the science team could work so much easier without Rodney breathing down their necks. They were all better off without him. So why not forget about him altogether?
John didn't need him. Neither did anyone else.
~~~
It was Elizabeth who stumbled across the entry in the Ancient database.
"It seems the Ancients built this outpost early on, at the very beginning of the war against the Wraith."
"It's in space," John commented, studying the map he had accessed on his laptop.
"Yes." Elizabeth nodded. "Apparently, it was used to assemble the Ancient warships, like the Aurora."
"Or the Orion," John interjected, then made a shutting up now gesture when Elizabeth threw him an impatient look.
"There is a Stargate on a moon nearby," she continued, pointedly making a pause, waiting for him to say anything. Wisely, he didn't. "I want you to take a jumper and see if there is anything left in this outpost we can use. At the very least, there should be some raw materials left. Radek tells me some of our jumpers are in desperate need of an overhaul."
"Yes, and we think there might be technical manuals and diagrams left in the outpost's computer systems." Radek pushed up his glasses, clearly excited. "If those are still intact."
"Right. But we have no idea if the Wraith have already found this outpost, so we'll do some recon first. The scientists can come play, later." Not that John had any issues with taking a scientist or two along on a recon mission, especially one through space, when no one would actually leave the jumper. But, right now, his team consisted of three people. He wanted to keep it that way, at least for a while.
Elizabeth let him.
"All right. Prepare for the mission, you'll leave in one hour."
There were no Wraith anywhere near the moon when they emerged from the Gate, only the Ancient outpost: a giant space station that would take them about half an hour to reach. It wasn't really visible on anything but the HUD for now, looking like a big box with an upturned bowl stuck on top of it. Unlit before the surrounding stars, it hung before them like a shadow, a rectangular hole in space.
Five minutes into their flight, Teyla sighed.
"It is quiet. I will admit, I miss the talking."
"Well, I'd say complain to Rodney about that," John offered, "but I don't think he's listening." He was probably off somewhere watching a star go nova or something like that. Not that John cared.
"You do not think he's still around? Watching over us?"
John tried not to grit his teeth.
"I think the only thing he's watching is the universe at large. Why bother with insignificant stuff, like, say, people?"
He didn't need to look to know Ronon and Teyla were exchanging a long, meaningful glance.
"I do not think Rodney regarded you as insignificant. He cared about you," she said cautiously. "More than you know."
Great, now he was the abandoned love interest. And didn't that make him feel all special.
"Sure he did," John agreed easily, "I guess he just couldn't show it. That's why he left."
His voice didn't hold any bitterness. Why should it: even if Rodney had 'cared about him', it didn't mean that John had, too. Because he hadn't; otherwise, wouldn't he be devastated instead of - all right, he could admit it - angry? Last time, he'd said he loved Rodney in the way a friend loved another friend. That was all, and he wasn't even so sure about that one anymore. Maybe 'love' had been too strong a word in the first place.
And when the hell had this discussion become about him, anyway? They treated him like he was pining after someone unattainable, for god's sake.
"John-" Teyla tried again, but he interrupted her.
"I'm picking up an energy reading. Got to be the outpost." He wasn't pining, and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about it. Because there was nothing to talk about.
She sighed, but let him have his way. A lot of people did that, lately. If John was being honest, he wasn't above using everyone's strange notion of his not coping for his own advantage. If they wanted to make his personal life their business, he didn't think they deserved any better.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the space station. Experimentally, John thought, on. All around them, the outpost lit up like a Christmas tree, automatic systems connecting with the jumper and displaying all kinds of information. The scientists would go crazy over the knowledge they could gather from the space station's database. But that wasn't what made Teyla gasp, or Ronon lean forward in interest. It was the huge, transparent dome above them, easily large enough to hold half of Atlantis, that made John wonder if someone up there had decided that Lt. Col. John Sheppard had been a good boy this past year. Because there, white and untouched like a virgin queen, majestic against her background of stars, was a completely assembled spaceship.
John stared.
"Cool."
~~~
Once the scientists had gotten over their collective orgasm and John had taken the Virgo on a test flight - or six - Atlantis slowly went back to business as usual. John still hadn't chosen a fourth member for his team, and Elizabeth wasn't trying to make him. They went on missions, they worked stuff out, they came back home.
They were doing fine.
Of course, he should have known that sooner or later, their luck would run out. He didn't even know what the people of the world they'd been visiting called themselves, just that they were a medieval culture, superstitious, but friendly. The group had split up early on; Teyla and Ronon gong off with one of the local town leaders to inspect the crops, as they both understood more about farming and food than John. In hindsight, he should have gone with them, instead of checking out some side street market. In hindsight, of course, he simply shouldn't have used his radio. Apparently, people who were talking to thin air were clearly possessed by evil spirits. And in this culture, dealing with possessed people was very simple.
Their heads were chopped off.
John wasn't even locked up in a cell or put on trial or anything else that would have given anyone time to mount a rescue mission. He was simply overwhelmed by an angry and scared mob who dragged him along to the public square. Word had to have spread bushfire fast, because the executioner was already waiting in front of a low wooden block, wearing a huge, sharp axe in his belt. Grinning at John as he stepped aside.
The sight made John double his efforts to free himself, pulling every dirty trick he knew and succeeding in breaking someone's nose, along with a few other things. His reward was a hard blow to the head that stunned him, made it easy for them to push him to his knees. His arms were yanked behind his back, wrists tied together, making him chuckle against the wood as the executioner pressed him face down on the block. He'd be bound for, what, a minute before they killed him?
There was no way out. Even if he'd still had his weapon, he'd have to mow down almost the entire town to get away. Everybody and their dog seemed to have come to view the spectacle, chatting and crying and calling for the executioner to get on with it already.
He wondered how many people had died like this before him - on another block, maybe, because this one was still free of blood. He wondered if a fourth team member might have made a difference, or if they would have been killed by proxy. He wondered if a minute was enough to concentrate on clear blue skies, to release his burden.
He wondered if he'd see Rodney. And then he wondered where that thought had come from.
A fresh breeze whirled over the crowded square, bringing the smell of summer-sweetness instead of the stink of the unwashed mob around him, cooling the sweat on his face and ruffling his hair. John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Clear blue skies.
It wasn't clear blue skies what appeared in front of his mind's eye, though. It was the blue eyes of a man who'd been as close to him as a brother might have. John could picture him easily, chin smugly raised, wearing that mocking little smirk of his, and suddenly, it all clicked together. They way people had solved the city's problems seemingly in their sleep. The way Elizabeth had discovered one important database entry among several billion insignificant ones. All those small coincidences around the team, good fortune wherever they went.
Rodney. Circumventing that damn non-interference rule in whatever ways he could to help them out, to share his knowledge. Watching out for his people with that typical, stubborn McKay loyalty.
John should have known that Rodney wouldn't just leave them. He of all people should have had a little faith, and now, seconds before his death, he didn't even have the time to regret. Or to apologise.
"I'm sorry," he nevertheless told the air around him, needing Rodney to know that he was. The breeze returned a little stronger, making him smile. Trust Rodney to keep his priorities thoroughly jumbled; but least John would die with a nice smell in his nose. Time slowed down as the executioner raised his axe. John could feel the uneven ground, small stones digging into his knees as he knelt in front of the block, rough wood scratching against his cheek, fingers tingling already from cut-off circulation, the executioner's hand between his shoulder blades, pressing him down.
The handle snapped. There was a loud cry of pain as the axe head hit someone in the crowd behind him, followed by an uncomfortable murmur as John snorted, hysterical laughter bubbling in the back of his throat. Way to go, Rodney. The executioner cursed, then his hands came up around John's neck.
"Nice try, buddy," John managed, then hard fingers closed around his throat, digging into the flesh, cutting off his air. He bucked and twisted, but the executioner's knee was pressed against his back, keeping him down. So this was it, he was really going to die. Until that moment, he hadn't really believed it. Along with the realisation came a strange, calm acceptance, and for a single moment, John felt almost peaceful.
The loud crash of thunder jerked him back into reality, just as the fingers around his neck went slack and fell away. John blinked as another bolt of lightning slammed into the middle of the crowd, sending people running and screaming to find some kind of cover. The breeze had become a roaring wind, smashing flowerpots and slamming doors, and all John could do was kneel in front of his block, face pressed against the wood, shoulders hunched as he tried to make as small a target as possible for the gale. Abruptly, the wind stopped, and the bindings around John's wrists snapped. He grunted as the circulation returned to his aching shoulders and numb fingers, then he got up, almost tripping over the executioner's charred corpse as he stumbled away from the block.
When he looked up again, Rodney was standing a few feet away from him in the middle of the dirty street. His friend was wearing a simple green t-shirt, light brown slacks, and a pair of well-worn sneakers. He looked achingly normal.
"I-" John's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, tried again. "Nice work. Thanks."
"Yes, well, um, never mind." Rodney smiled a little, but it looked uncomfortable. "I, ah, just crossed a line here. I'm afraid you'll be on your own now."
"One interference too many?" John asked, trying to make it sound like a joke, even though it wasn't. His heart was pounding, and he desperately needed a distraction from the sudden feeling of… longing, he guessed.
"Something like that, yes."
Meaning that now Rodney would be punished by the Ancients for caring too much. John didn't even want to think about what the possible consequences might be, but he had to know.
"What'll they do to you?"
Rodney shrugged. "Much as it pains me to admit it: I don't know."
Their conversation had a strangely detached feeling, like they were just chatting. Like Rodney hadn't been gone for almost two months; like it wasn't entirely possible he'd be locked up or cast out or banned to the end of the universe for all eternity.
"Maybe they'll just kick you out, like Dr. Jackson," John tried.
"Perhaps. I'm not sure if I should hope for that, actually." Now Rodney was looking a little forlorn, and John hated that. Hated that this might be their last conversation, ever, and he didn't have anything meaningful to offer. He cleared his throat, knowing that for once, he'd have to do better than sideways glances and friendly pats on a shoulder.
"Look, Rodney. About this whole ascension thing. I should have trusted you." After all, how often had he asked Rodney to trust him? "I'm sorry."
Rodney actually blinked at that. "Are you feeling all right, Colonel? Any nausea, dizziness, headache? That blow to the head must have been harder than it looked."
John would have laughed at Rodney's concerned expression if it hadn't been so sad. Just what kind of friendship had they been sharing, that a simple apology came as such a surprise? Rodney had to know how important he was, right? He just had to.
"Rodney. I, uh." John swallowed, took a deep breath. "I care. About you. Just… you know that, right?"
Rodney ducked his head and smiled slightly. Then, from one blink to the next, he was gone, like he'd never been there at all.
Leaving John to wonder if that was a yes, or a no.
~~~
Now that he was actually admitting that he missed Rodney, John wanted him back. More than he'd ever wanted anything before, even more than flying, and the fierceness of his own feelings scared him a little. For once, though, he wasn't running away from them.
"I'm just saying that we should take a jumper and see if we can find any more life signs."
He was alone with Elizabeth in her office, trying to convince her to give him more time and it was frustrating as hell. It had been three weeks since Rodney had saved his life and disappeared, and John wasn't prepared to give up. Too bad he seemed to be pretty alone with that sentiment.
"John," Elizabeth tried to placate him, "we've already been to every world we know."
John licked his lips, took a deep breath, and forced himself to be patient.
"Well, then we'll go again." Why was he suddenly the only one who seemed to give a shit what had happened to Rodney?
"We don't even know if he has really been forced to de-ascend. John, this is like rummaging through a haystack in search for a needle that may or may not be there at all. I want him back as much as you do, but for three weeks, all we've done is search - we can't afford to keep using our resources like that."
"So you'll just leave him behind."
"I'm not leaving anyone behind," Elizabeth said angrily. "But the SGC thinks that this is the wrong approach."
"The SGC can't-"
"I agree with them," she interrupted. "There won't be any more searching teams."
"Elizabeth-"
"I will not discuss this, John."
"Yes, ma'am."
John saluted smartly, just to see her press her lips together, then he turned and left her office before he did something stupid. Rage was coiling in his gut, disappointment, still that strange longing, and he needed a way to let those feelings go without hurting anyone but himself.
He went to Ronon.
"Spar with me."
Thankfully, Ronon didn't ask any questions - he just let John vent his anger, his jumbled emotions, and didn't hold back too much. At least, John didn't think so; his entire body was bruised and aching by the time they were done.
"Thanks."
"'S okay." Ronon shrugged. "You want to go for a run?"
He didn't, not really, feeling thoroughly beaten up, but running was nicely mindless. And if he kept pushing himself to his limits, maybe he'd be able to sleep that night. Without the sickening feeling he was leaving someone important behind.
Without the constant replay of that small smile Rodney had given him before he'd disappeared, and the question of what it had meant.
Summoning his last reserves to pick up the pace once more, John ran.
~~~
John dreamed.
He was wearing his SGC uniform, sitting on his jacket at the foot of a dune that might have been in Afghanistan, or Egypt, or really in any other desert. In front of him, a little boy was sitting cross-legged in the sand, wearing an orange and yellow robe and sandals. His hair was short, and his eyes Asian. He looked like a very young Dalai Lama as he met John's puzzled stare without hesitation, and smiled. John looked around.
"Is there a point to this?"
Grasping a handful of small stones, the boy began to play with them, arranging them in strange patterns across the sand.
"Dreams teach," he said.
Okay. "What do they teach?"
The boy was concentrating on the stones now, grabbing another handful to continue laying them out like a strange kind of solitaire. "The way."
It was a typical dream answer, and yet, for a dream, this felt strangely off. There was nothing of the usual fuzziness, the sudden changes of his surroundings, and usually, John wasn't aware he'd been dreaming until he woke up. Still, he was willing to play along, for a while.
"The way to what?" he asked.
"Two halves are a whole, but a missing spoke does not mean the wheel is broken."
John frowned. "What?"
The boy's soft smile stayed for a moment, then he widened his eyes at something behind John, looking startled. John turned around, but all he saw was sand. Great, he'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Turning back to the boy, he opened his mouth for another question, and stopped.
The kid was gone.
There wasn't even a depression in the sand where he'd been sitting, only the short pattern of stones left behind. John picked up his jacket and wondered what would happen next. From the corner of his eye, the stone patterns looked different, almost familiar, and he stepped around to see what they looked like from the boy's point of view.
And held his breath as he stared down.
There, neatly arranged in the sand, lay the seven symbols of a Gate address.
~~~
"So you're saying you dreamed the address to the world where the Ancients left Rodney." Elizabeth sounded sceptical. John couldn't say he blamed her.
"I know it sounds strange. But I've read everything the SGC gave us on Ancients and ascended beings, and I'll bet you a year's pay that boy was Shifu. You know, the ascended kid?"
"Why would Shifu come all the way out here to tell you about Rodney?"
"I don't know, maybe he wanted to help, maybe it's a step on his path to enlightenment." John ran a hand through his hair and decided to try another approach. "Look, let's just dial the address, see if we can get a lock, send a MALP. If it's a planet that's inhabitable, I'll take my team and have a look."
"John, we already had this discussion."
"No," he told her, "we didn't. You didn't want to look for a needle in a haystack. This isn't a haystack, it's one address. We'll be away for what, five hours? Six?"
"John-"
"Let me go." This was a last chance he'd been given, he could feel it. One way or another, his search would end today. "And I won't ask you again."
Elizabeth looked at him, calculating and serious. Then she nodded.
"All right. Go."
John gave her his own nod, a silent thank-you, and jogged out of her office, already radioing his team. Barely fifteen minutes later, they stood in the control room, fully geared up, waiting for the MALP's transmission.
"Breathable atmosphere, signs of population near the Gate," the technician on duty announced, and John let out a deep breath.
They had a mission.
~~~
The planet's population turned out to be yet another medieval culture. There was a small town close by the Gate, with stone buildings and cobblestone streets that looked like Earth in an earlier century, and not for the first time John wished that nose plugs were part of their gear. The town stank. It seemed to be market day; there were pigs and chickens running around between dirty, laughing children, and what had to be at least three hundred people on the streets. John cursed inwardly - in this chaos, he'd have a hard time finding even Teyla, and at least he knew she was there. They could walk around the town for hours and peek into every single house, and still not be sure they'd seen everyone who lived there. And there was always the possibility that Rodney wasn't even in this town, but somewhere else on the planet.
Needle in a haystack. Right.
But still, John was sure the boy had told him how to find Rodney; he just hadn't anticipated it to turn out this difficult, this complicated.
He hadn't anticipated his completely irrational nervousness or the way his heart was pounding, either. It felt like he was running high on adrenaline, which made no sense. It was Rodney they were looking for - a friend, sure, but hardly a reason for John to feel like he had just before his first date.
He stopped, abruptly, in the middle of the crowded street. He'd felt that way around Rodney before, but he'd always blamed it on recent missions, or on missions to come, or on the workout he'd just had. Not once had he thought that maybe, just maybe, he should associate the feeling with Rodney himself. The friend who wasn't, apparently, and boy, did John feel stupid. He'd always known he wasn't all that in touch with his own emotions; this, though, this was a whole new level of 'didn't see this coming'.
He needed to sort this out, later. For now, he'd better get moving again, before Elizabeth called in to tell them they'd had enough time. But before he could, someone bumped into him from behind.
"Hey! If you'll just stand there gaping like an idiot, at least get out of the way," a male voice complained, and John spun around even as he heard Teyla's surprised gasp next to him, saw the shock on Ronon's face.
The man before them was clad in a simple tunic and a pair of woollen trousers to go with his leather sandals. His hair had grown a little longer, curling over his ears and in the nape of his neck, but his eyes were just the same startling blue John remembered. John felt like he couldn't breathe, staring at the familiar face of a man he'd thought lost. Of all the ways to find him-
"Why are you staring at me like that? Is there something on my face, or are you just retarded?" Rodney mocked them, smirking. Then suddenly, he frowned, before his expression changed to one of wary hope. "Wait, do you know me?"
John opened his mouth, and the only thing that came out was a croak. He swallowed and tried again, saying the only thing he could.
"Rodney."
The blue eyes stared at him without recognition. They'd known, of course, that amnesia was a real possibility, but being treated like strangers by Rodney, who'd known them for years, felt surreal. Awkward.
It hurt.
"Rodney." Rodney said it slowly, like he was testing the sound. "That would be my name?"
"Yeah. Dr. Rodney McKay, that's you. I'm John Sheppard, that's Teyla Emmagan, and the big guy's Ronon Dex."
"We're your team," Ronon added helpfully, just as Teyla said, "We have missed you very much." Both were smiling.
"Huh." Rodney looked at every one of them in turn, and John tried to appear as friendly and open as possible. "Well, I don't think-"
He broke off with a gasp, doubling over, and would have fallen if John hadn't caught him. "Rodney!"
Rodney gave a choked little moan, the one he always made before he lost his consciousness, and it was enough warning for John to tighten his hold. A second later, Rodney sagged against him, eyes closed, a little blood trickling from his nose. John held him helplessly, heart flipping anxiously in his chest as he stared at Ronon and Teyla's horrified expressions. This wasn't how they'd imagined their reunion. Around them, people stared, pointing and murmuring.
"Help me carry him," John ordered, but Ronon plucked Rodney out of his arms entirely, cradling the scientist like a small child.
"Let's go," the ex-Runner grunted, and John gave a sharp nod.
"Hey! Where are you taking him?" a woman called behind them as they started on the short way back to the Gate. John answered her over his shoulder, without looking back.
"Home."
~~~
Nobody had actually believed they'd bring Rodney back, so when the team stepped out of the Stargate and into the gateroom, it was into barely controlled chaos. John had radioed ahead to have a medical team on standby, and he watched as Ronon carefully placed Rodney on a gurney, as Rodney was whisked away.
"What's wrong with him?" Elizabeth asked, suddenly standing next to him.
"I don't know. He just collapsed all of a sudden."
"I can't believe you found him," she said quietly. "Go to the infirmary. He should have someone close."
John didn't need to be told twice.
He settled down in his usual place in front of the infirmary, joined by Teyla and Ronon barely a minute after he'd arrived. Radek dropped by a short while after, as did Elizabeth. They didn't have to wait long before Carson let them in, leading them to a curtained-off bed at the back of the infirmary.
Rodney was still unconscious, hooked up, John thought, to exactly the same monitors he'd been before he'd died. The thought made him feel queasy - this was the third time Rodney was lying here like this. The first time, they'd been lucky. The second time, he'd died, for John, turning death into ascension. John didn't want to imagine what he'd do if Rodney died for real this time, punished for saving John's life once again. He didn't think he'd be able to cope if that happened.
"So. What's wrong with him?" John asked, nodding at the still figure of his best friend. The man he loved, apparently.
"To be honest, I'm not sure." Carson looked tired and a little sick as he stared down at Rodney. "It doesn't seem to be a physical problem, but his brain patterns are all over the place. His EEG's going from comatose to hyperactive one minute, and back again the next. I don't know what's causing it."
John twisted a fist into Rodney's blanket, and had to force himself to let go again.
"But he'll be all right, right?"
"You said he couldn't remember you, back on the planet?"
"Yes," Teyla answered Carson's question. "He had no recollection of who he was. It was most… disturbing."
The Scottish doctor nodded. "Aye, this is actually very similar to what Dr. Jackson was experiencing. But he didn't collapse, not like Rodney did. His brain's working overtime - it could be his memories returning, or it could be his subconscious trying to ascend again. I hope it's the former, but-" Carson spread his hands in a helpless gesture.
"So I guess we'll know when he wakes up," Ronon stated gruffly, surprising them.
"Certainly. When he wakes up." Carson tried to smile reassuringly, but the good doctor had never been very good at lying. John went to grab a nearby chair and sat down, trying not to look suspicious as he rested his hand on the bed, close to Rodney's. From the looks of those around him, he didn't quite succeed.
"We'll wait, then," he said, daring them to make a comment or try to make him move.
Elizabeth nodded, and reached for another chair. "Yes. We'll wait."
~~~
They waited all through the night and well into the next afternoon before the EEG made a strange beeping noise that had Carson hurry over and stare at the readings, ignoring John's alarmed look.
"It looks like he's-
A small moan from Rodney interrupted him, and the three of them - Carson, John, and Elizabeth - stared at the scientist as his eyes fluttered open. He blinked at them, then his gaze focussed on Carson.
"Carson?"
The doctor broke into a brilliant smile. "Oh, aye, lad. Can I take it you remember where you are, then?"
"Infirmary?" Rodney offered in a voice that clearly implied, 'duh'.
John thought if his heart pounded any more fiercely, it might just break through his ribcage and go squat on the floor. In fact, he was a little surprised that the constant emotional up and down hadn't given him a stroke yet.
"Hey, buddy," he said, giving in and grabbing Rodney's hand. He squeezed slightly, delighted when the gesture was returned and Rodney gave him a tired smile. "Remember me?" he asked, congratulating himself on his casual tone.
Rodney pretended to think about it. "You're the guy who reads golfing magazines when he's trying to teach someone the fine art of meditation?"
"Yeah, that would be me." John grinned ruefully, and squeezed Rodney's hand again, just for the thrill of it. It was the only way he could keep himself from beaming at everyone in their general vicinity.
"Rodney." Now Elizabeth stepped forward, looking as happy as she ever had. "We're so glad to have you back."
"As well you should," Rodney returned, still smiling. Then he looked back at John. "How did you find me?"
"I, uh, had a hunch." John shrugged, then the implications of Rodney's question sank in and he leaned forward. "Wait, are you saying you remember being ascended?"
"That's not possible. Dr. Jackson said his memory of the time he spent with the Ancients never returned. They blocked it," Elizabeth interjected.
Rodney shook his head. "I remember… being places. I remember you," he pointed at John with a reproving gesture, "almost having your head cut off. The knowledge of the inner workings of the universe is gone, though, I'm afraid." He grimaced. "I guess keeping that would have been too much to ask."
"But how did you manage to hold on to those memories in the first place?" Elizabeth wanted to know. "I thought that was impossible."
Surprisingly, it was Carson who answered. "Maybe it's because Rodney ascended on his own. I think Dr. Jackson only managed to do so with the help of Oma Desala."
"Rodney only managed with the help of a machine," John pointed out, ignoring Rodney's annoyed huff, but Carson shook his head.
"He's not the only one who used it. The proper state of mind, he had to reach all on his own."
"Clear blue skies," Rodney mumbled, and yawned.
"Rest," Elizabeth told him. "We'll have enough time to talk about this."
Rodney nodded, half asleep already, and John stood up, reluctantly releasing his hold on Rodney's hand. Carson and Elizabeth were talking in hushed tones as they walked away. If he could, John would have stayed, but he knew it would only make him look suspicious, now Rodney had turned out to be okay. He'd just come back later with Ronon and Teyla.
There was something he had to know before he left, though. And damn if his heart wasn't pounding again.
"You remember the thing I told you?" he asked. "After almost having my head cut off?"
"You mean the concussion talk?" Rodney's eyes were barely open now. Obviously, he did remember, even if he still didn't think John had meant what he'd said.
If Rodney had died, he still wouldn't have known-
"I wasn't concussed," John told him quietly, but his only answer was a soft sigh. Moments later, Rodney started to snore.
Giving a sigh of his own, John patted his friend's hand, and left.
~~~
Two days later, Rodney was discharged from the infirmary. There was nothing wrong with him, besides the lingering tendency to tire very easily. Carson thought it was because his mind needed to get used to having a body again. Rodney said it was because the stupid theories of those around him were enough to put a man to sleep. He added a pointed look at Carson, who threw up his hands and said he couldn't possibly understand how anyone could have missed the most exasperating man in two galaxies. Rodney had answered with a yawn.
John had made sure to be there when Rodney was released, so he could be the one to accompany the scientist to his quarters. It hadn't been easy to get Rodney's things back from Earth so quickly, and he didn't even want to know what the SGC had told Jeannie. He suspected there'd be a trip to Toronto in Rodney's near future, though. But for now, the important thing was that Rodney's quarters looked like they always had, and not like the scientist had been gone for almost four months.
Four months. It didn't sound all that long, but it had felt like an eternity. Especially those last three weeks, when John had been desperately clinging to the belief that his friend was still alive, not daring to doubt for even one second, because he'd known his conviction would shatter like the brittle thing it was if he did.
He and Rodney hadn't talked about the caring thing again, and John wondered how he should raise the topic. He didn't think he could pull off the casual approach - he'd never been good at this personal stuff. Rodney didn't really strike him as the type for romantic declarations, either, but keeping it silent and hoping they'd just kind of drift together was probably asking for too much.
John still hadn't decided what to do when Rodney finished his inspection of his neat and tidy rooms with a satisfied grunt, and yet another yawn. He'd been quickly running out of energy over the last few minutes, but determinedly made sure that everything was in its place.
As if John could have ever forgotten what had been where when he'd cleaned out Rodney's quarters, boxed everything up, and then stood in the main room telling himself he wasn't lonely.
"Please don't take this the wrong way," Rodney said, eyeing his bed with obvious longing, "but I'm really tired."
Yeah. And there went another opportunity to talk. John made sure not to show his disappointment.
"All right." He gave his friend a pat on the shoulder, not above taking cheap measures to get a little physical contact. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow."
He turned around and walked to the door, but Rodney's hand on his arm stopped him.
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, sounding cranky and irritated.
Now John was confused. "You just said-"
"Look," Rodney interrupted him, "I'm also tired of waiting for you to make up your mind. So can we just pretend we've had the whole relationship talk already and simply go to sleep?"
"I-" I'm not tired, John wanted to say, except he was. He had lost Rodney, then he'd had to find him again, and then he'd been agonising over the if and how to get what he wanted, so saying he hadn't slept all that well would have been something of an understatement. Still…
"Just like that? You think it's that easy?"
"I don't see why not. Why does everything have to be complicated?"
And maybe Rodney had kept some of the knowledge he'd found when he'd been ascended, because there was just no way the Rodney McKay from before would have said something like that. But this, Rodney offering himself so casually, this was something John would have to be crazy to refuse.
He was a lot of things. Crazy wasn't one of them.
Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Actually, I am a little tired," he said, casually, pretending not to notice Rodney's smirk, pretending not to be nervous when he shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over the back of a nearby chair. He sat down on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots, not looking up as Rodney sat down next to him to do the same. Neither of them moved after they'd pulled off their boots, both staring at their socked feet. After a moment, Rodney's shoulder bumped against his own.
"I feel like a virgin on her first date," he complained. "Any more excited, and I'm going to have a stroke."
"Well, sorry to be the one to tell you," John drawled, "but you are a virgin."
Rodney's indignant squawk made him grin.
"I am not!"
"Brand new body, Rodney."
"No, it's not! I've still got all my scars, see?"
Rodney yanked his shirt over his head, and John's mouth went dry at the sight of that broad, naked chest. He licked his lips, reaching out to touch the round, puckered scar a few inches to the left of Rodney's heart.
"Yeah," he croaked. "I can see that."
Rodney had blushed a little, but met John's gaze steadily. "Can we please concentrate on now? You'll have plenty of time to feel guilty for shooting me."
John swallowed, and nodded, closing his eyes as Rodney leaned forward. Their lips met softly, hesitantly, like each of them was afraid the other would pull away in disgust. It didn't happen, though, so John brought up his hand to cradle Rodney's neck as he deepened the contact. Rodney's mouth opened a little under his, and he caressed those lips with his own, learning their shape. Then Rodney's arm sneaked around John's waist, and he could feel the first flicker of a tongue over his lower lip. He answered in kind, the tips of their tongues touching, and then Rodney yawned. John chuckled, giving him another quick kiss.
"Guess we better continue this after your beauty sleep."
"Oh please, like you aren't tired."
But Rodney was already fumbling with his belt, eyes half-lidded and unfocussed, so John stood up to shed his own clothes until all he was wearing were his boxers. Rodney had already settled in beneath the blanket, holding one side up for John to join him. He didn't need to be told twice.
The bed, although broader than the first ones they'd slept on, was still kind of narrow for them to fit on. But John didn't care, quite the opposite: it forced him to lie closer to Rodney, who was miraculously alive and breathing next to him. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body, to press his nose against Rodney's shoulder and inhale that familiar scent. He yawned as well, suddenly a lot more tired than he'd thought.
"I still think you had a concussion," Rodney said softly, snorting as John sneaked an arm around his waist and pinched his belly in retaliation. "Possibly brain damaged," he added.
"Nah. Just, maybe, fallen a little too hard." There was a short moment of silence, then Rodney grasped John's hand that was still resting on his belly, squeezing firmly.
"Well, uh, at the risk of sounding like a girl: I'll catch you."
John smiled and closed his eyes, safe in the knowledge that when he opened them again, Rodney would be there.
~~~
End.