Fic: Wake, Part 3
“Stop it,“ John said, poking Rodney in the ribs.
“What?“ Rodney demanded.
“You're wiggling,“ John said.
“Sorry,“ Rodney said, voice laced with sarcasm. “I don't really sleep well in hostage situations.“
“Don't worry, buddy. We've been in worse spots than this.“
“That's comforting how, exactly?“ Rodney asked. “And the fact that it's true only makes it worse.“
“Just trying to find the silver lining,“ John said.
“Find the silver lining to the concrete floor,“ Rodney replied. “Aren't there any laws about cruel and unusual punishment in this galaxy? This is hell on my back. The least they could have done was thrown down a mattress.“
“No, the least they could have done was tie us to a tree and let us die of exposure. All things considered, this is pretty nice. We even got our own cell.“
“Thank you. Thank you for that.“
“Come here,“ John said and arranged the two of them so that John was sitting with his back to the wall and Rodney was lying on his back, head resting on John's thigh like a pillow. “Better?“
“Marginally,“ Rodney replied. John laid a hand across Rodney's chest and closed his eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of each breath. Rodney covered John's hand with his own and, after a moment, spoke again. “I never thought I'd be here.“
“Most people don't plan on being taken hostage.“ John said.
“No, I mean here. Somewhere other than a lab on Earth. Even after I joined the Stargate program I had no interest in ever going through the damn thing. If someone had said even a year before we left for Atlantis that I'd be on a first contact gate team in another galaxy, I would have laughed them out of the room. I've always been the man with the answers, not the man with the gun.“
“What changed?“ John asked.
“He, who through vast immensity can pierce,
See worlds on worlds compose one universe,
Observe how system into system runs,
What other planets circle other suns,
What varied being peoples every star,
May tell why heaven has made us as we are.“ Rodney said.**
“Never figured you for a poet, McKay,“ John said.
“Liberal arts college,“ Rodney replied. “I was forced to take a poetry analysis class as an undergrad. The rest of the time we were reading about 'Dancing with the Daffodils,' so that particular piece stood out.“
“I always preferred Auden to Wadsworth, myself,“ John said.
“Oh my god!“ Rodney said, stricken. John raised an eyebrow. “You're an English nerd.“
“I double majored,“ John said.
“How did I not see this coming? You go on what could be a one way trip to another galaxy, and what are your personal items? A literary classic and a recording of a football game, not for the sport, but because it's a perfect metaphor. A metaphor!“ Rodney exclaimed. “Jeannie's never going to let me live this down.“
“Hey, you never answered the question,“ John said.
“What?“
“Why did you join the Atlantis expedition?“ John said.
“Oh,“ Rodney though for a moment. “I guess it was Samantha Carter that changed my mind.“ John bristled a bit at that. Much as he liked her as a person and respected her as a superior officer, he couldn't help the small twinge of jealousy he had towards her as far as Rodney was concerned. Though the feelings were never reciprocated, Rodney's blatant crush was a bit of a sore spot. “Jeannie and I had fallen out just days before I worked with Sam for the first time, though I had known her through her work for a long time before that. She was infuriating. It seemed like she could do whatever she wanted and it would all work out in the en; as if every scientific law ceased to exist as soon as she walked into the room. At the time, all I wanted was to prove her wrong, just once.“
“Even if it meant killing her teammate,“ John said.
“No. I didn't want Teal'c to die. I just couldn't see any way he could possibly be alive, either. Long story short, Sam had me sent to Siberia. I spent the next year hating everyone. I didn't even try to fix things with Jeannie. I resented Sam, and loathed the SGC. It seemed like everything was working against me. Then I was called back to Colorado to help Sam again. I saw everything she had-her team, her work-and I wanted it. Jeanie was my only family and she was out of the picture. There are only so many places in the world I could do my line of work, and everyone in those places couldn't stand me.“
“Understandable,“ John said.
“Excuse me,“ Rodney said. “You asked me to tell the story. Would you mind not insulting me in the process?“
“Sorry,“ John said.“Continue.“
“Anyway, the Atlantis project was my ticket out. It was a chance to be on the cutting edge of the work I loved while being able to leave the baggage behind. The fact that we might not be able to come back wasn't really a deterrent.“
“It was a suicide mission?“ John said.
“Metaphorically speaking,“ Rodney said. The two fell into thoughtful silence. John's story wasn't so different-nowhere else to go, and no one to miss him once he left. The nature of the original expedition seemed to have attracted many of the same sorts of people: intelligent, highly motivated, with nothing to leave behind. No one else would have taken the risk, and no one else would have survived it if they had. Atlantis: the Island of Misfit Toys.
“Do you think they're coming for us?“ Rodney asked.
“They haven't let us down yet,“ John said.
“At least this cell has a window.“ Rodney said, glancing up at the small opening six feet from the ground. Two of the planet's moons were alligned between the bars.
“See? Silver lining.“ John grinned. “It's practically The Ritz.“
***
The next morning, John was sore and ravenously thirsty. He drank greedily from the basin until it was dry. The muscles in his back were knotted and his joints cracked when he stood and stretched, but he felt none of the weight that had tempered his every movement before. He was hungry too.
He stepped out of his cabin into the predawn light, intending to rummage something from the orchards to eat with a Power Bar, but was stalled by the sight of the village. Most of the buildings were reduced to rubble, some from weapons fire, while other had clearly been scorched. A huge section of the grass in the clearing that surrounded the cloister had burned down to the roots. The only buildings left untouched were the meditation house and the one in which he slept.
John sat down hard on the step. He had tried to dismiss the other night as a dream, or, at worse, a horrible vision given to him by Teer, but he couldn't deny the evidence he was faced with now. Something had happened here; something horrible that he couldn't explain. He wanted to be upset by the discovery, but as the sun rose slowly, he couldn't find it in him.
He got up and walked down to the orchard, pulling one of the soft, almost pear-like fruit from one of the trees and eating it as he made his way to the creek. When he reached the water's edge, he waded in fully clothed. The creek wasn't deep, coming no higher than mid thigh, but John submerged himself, enjoying the feel of cold water on his skin. He came up briefly for air then dipped back below the surface, scrubbing his hair with his hands. He resurfaced, shaking the water from his hair and eyes, then scrubbed at his clothes and skin. He dove under the water one last time before walking out of the creek into the sunlight.
The day was warm, and his skin and hair had already begun to dry by the time he made it back to the cloister. He felt compelled to resume repairs on the meditation building, more out of habit than any consuming desire to keep busy, but instead lay out on an patch of grass to air dry in the sun. He was taking the day off.
John hadn't realized he was dozing until he was brought back to awareness by a shout. "Sheppard! John!" He jerked upright. That was a voice he would recognize anywhere. To his horror, his cabin was ablaze. He could feel the heat radiating off the cabin from his spot on the grass.
"Rodney!" John shouted, and ran for the burning building. He searched the exterior, looking for some spot that wasn't swallowed in flame, but found none. As he rounded back to the front, he called out again. "Rodney, can you hear me?"
"John! Oh god, John, help. There's no way out!" John's heart raced and hands shook as he paced, searching for some way into the building. On the ground, he spotted one of the beams he had removed while mending the buildings. It was rotted and worthless as a support, but thick. John picked it up and turned back to the cabin.
"Stand back!" John shouted, then ran at the door, using the beam to knock loose the handle. He could feel the fire burning his skin but ignored it, focusing on nothing but getting inside to Rodney. Once the handle was broken free, John rammed the door with his shoulder. It cracked, but didn't give. He pulled back and threw his weight into the door again, falling forward as it broke apart beneath him.
As John tumbled inside, the burning pain dissipated, and the roar of the fire was muffled until it was almost inaudible. The room was cool, and glowed golden as if lit by hundreds of Christmas lights. "John," someone said quietly, and John spun around to see the man he had just thrown himself into a burning building to save.
"Rodney?" John said. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Is that really you?"
Rodney rolled his eyes and said, "Don't be stupid." John wasn't sure what that meant, but rushed forward and pulled Rodney into a crushing embrace anyway. Rodney returned it with equal enthusiasm, burying his face in the crook of John's neck. "Why are you here, John?"
"I couldn't save you. You were gone and I didn't know what else to do," John's voice hitched on the last words.
"At some point you're going to have to get over this savior complex. It wasn't your fault," Rodney said, but John shoved away.
"I fired the shot that killed you," John said, staring Rodney down.
"And I built the bomb that you rode into a hive ship!" Rodney shot back.
"That wasn't the same, and you know it," John said.
"In what way, exactly?" Rodney asked. "Because I told you to fire instead of running out with a, 'So long, Sheppard'?"
"Because I made a choice, Rodney!" John said. He balled his hands tightly into fists to keep them from shaking.
"Right. You knew for sure you were going to die, whereas I just knew I was probably going to die. I see the distinction now."
John sighed in exasperation. "I don't want to fight with you."
"Why not?" Rodney asked. "Don't you miss it?" John chuckled and drew Rodney into him again.
"Yeah, I do." John inhaled deeply, trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory.
"You know I think it's weird when you do that," Rodney said.
"I'm taking one for the road," John said unapologetically. "Why are you here?
"To make sure you get back to Atlantis," Rodney said.
"I don't want to go," John said, gripping Rodney tighter and not caring how petulant he sounded.
"Atlantis is home, John," Rodney said.
"It's not the same," John protested.
"No, probably not. For one thing, you'll have to worry constantly that Zelenka will accidentally sink the city or erase the entire Ancient database," Rodney said, smirking. "But it can still be good."
"Will I see you again?" John asked.
"Maybe. I don't know," Rodney said. Then John turned and their lips met and all the hollowed-out spaces inside him were filled again. It felt like summers on the lake, and Ferris wheels, and flying for the first time, and this? This was the memory he wanted to save forever.
They parted slowly, and Rodney looked into John's eyes and said, "You have to wake up now."
"What?" John asked, because he was more awake now than he had been in months.
"Awake, my Saint John. Leave all meaner things to low ambition, and the pride of kings."**
In the span of time it took to blink, the scene had changed before his eyes. He was staring up at the ceiling of a puddle jumper, blinking dumbly as people moved around him. John moaned loudly as the pain returned.
"Colonel Sheppard, can you hear me?" Teyla searched his eyes for a moment then turned to someone out of his line of sight. "Dr. Beckett, he is awake. John, I need you to stay very still. You are badly burned."
"Teyla?" John said, but it was little more than a whisper. "Where am I?"
"You are in a puddle jumper with myself, Ronon and Major Lorne. Dr. Beckett is also here to look after your injuries," she said.
"Where are we going?" John asked.
Teyla smiled down at him. "We're going home, John."
*****
End
*****
**Poem referenced was An Essay on Man by Alexander Pope. All lines came from Epistle 1, "On the Nature and State of Man with Respect to the Universe"
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Part One
Part Two
“What?“ Rodney demanded.
“You're wiggling,“ John said.
“Sorry,“ Rodney said, voice laced with sarcasm. “I don't really sleep well in hostage situations.“
“Don't worry, buddy. We've been in worse spots than this.“
“That's comforting how, exactly?“ Rodney asked. “And the fact that it's true only makes it worse.“
“Just trying to find the silver lining,“ John said.
“Find the silver lining to the concrete floor,“ Rodney replied. “Aren't there any laws about cruel and unusual punishment in this galaxy? This is hell on my back. The least they could have done was thrown down a mattress.“
“No, the least they could have done was tie us to a tree and let us die of exposure. All things considered, this is pretty nice. We even got our own cell.“
“Thank you. Thank you for that.“
“Come here,“ John said and arranged the two of them so that John was sitting with his back to the wall and Rodney was lying on his back, head resting on John's thigh like a pillow. “Better?“
“Marginally,“ Rodney replied. John laid a hand across Rodney's chest and closed his eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of each breath. Rodney covered John's hand with his own and, after a moment, spoke again. “I never thought I'd be here.“
“Most people don't plan on being taken hostage.“ John said.
“No, I mean here. Somewhere other than a lab on Earth. Even after I joined the Stargate program I had no interest in ever going through the damn thing. If someone had said even a year before we left for Atlantis that I'd be on a first contact gate team in another galaxy, I would have laughed them out of the room. I've always been the man with the answers, not the man with the gun.“
“What changed?“ John asked.
“He, who through vast immensity can pierce,
See worlds on worlds compose one universe,
Observe how system into system runs,
What other planets circle other suns,
What varied being peoples every star,
May tell why heaven has made us as we are.“ Rodney said.**
“Never figured you for a poet, McKay,“ John said.
“Liberal arts college,“ Rodney replied. “I was forced to take a poetry analysis class as an undergrad. The rest of the time we were reading about 'Dancing with the Daffodils,' so that particular piece stood out.“
“I always preferred Auden to Wadsworth, myself,“ John said.
“Oh my god!“ Rodney said, stricken. John raised an eyebrow. “You're an English nerd.“
“I double majored,“ John said.
“How did I not see this coming? You go on what could be a one way trip to another galaxy, and what are your personal items? A literary classic and a recording of a football game, not for the sport, but because it's a perfect metaphor. A metaphor!“ Rodney exclaimed. “Jeannie's never going to let me live this down.“
“Hey, you never answered the question,“ John said.
“What?“
“Why did you join the Atlantis expedition?“ John said.
“Oh,“ Rodney though for a moment. “I guess it was Samantha Carter that changed my mind.“ John bristled a bit at that. Much as he liked her as a person and respected her as a superior officer, he couldn't help the small twinge of jealousy he had towards her as far as Rodney was concerned. Though the feelings were never reciprocated, Rodney's blatant crush was a bit of a sore spot. “Jeannie and I had fallen out just days before I worked with Sam for the first time, though I had known her through her work for a long time before that. She was infuriating. It seemed like she could do whatever she wanted and it would all work out in the en; as if every scientific law ceased to exist as soon as she walked into the room. At the time, all I wanted was to prove her wrong, just once.“
“Even if it meant killing her teammate,“ John said.
“No. I didn't want Teal'c to die. I just couldn't see any way he could possibly be alive, either. Long story short, Sam had me sent to Siberia. I spent the next year hating everyone. I didn't even try to fix things with Jeannie. I resented Sam, and loathed the SGC. It seemed like everything was working against me. Then I was called back to Colorado to help Sam again. I saw everything she had-her team, her work-and I wanted it. Jeanie was my only family and she was out of the picture. There are only so many places in the world I could do my line of work, and everyone in those places couldn't stand me.“
“Understandable,“ John said.
“Excuse me,“ Rodney said. “You asked me to tell the story. Would you mind not insulting me in the process?“
“Sorry,“ John said.“Continue.“
“Anyway, the Atlantis project was my ticket out. It was a chance to be on the cutting edge of the work I loved while being able to leave the baggage behind. The fact that we might not be able to come back wasn't really a deterrent.“
“It was a suicide mission?“ John said.
“Metaphorically speaking,“ Rodney said. The two fell into thoughtful silence. John's story wasn't so different-nowhere else to go, and no one to miss him once he left. The nature of the original expedition seemed to have attracted many of the same sorts of people: intelligent, highly motivated, with nothing to leave behind. No one else would have taken the risk, and no one else would have survived it if they had. Atlantis: the Island of Misfit Toys.
“Do you think they're coming for us?“ Rodney asked.
“They haven't let us down yet,“ John said.
“At least this cell has a window.“ Rodney said, glancing up at the small opening six feet from the ground. Two of the planet's moons were alligned between the bars.
“See? Silver lining.“ John grinned. “It's practically The Ritz.“
***
The next morning, John was sore and ravenously thirsty. He drank greedily from the basin until it was dry. The muscles in his back were knotted and his joints cracked when he stood and stretched, but he felt none of the weight that had tempered his every movement before. He was hungry too.
He stepped out of his cabin into the predawn light, intending to rummage something from the orchards to eat with a Power Bar, but was stalled by the sight of the village. Most of the buildings were reduced to rubble, some from weapons fire, while other had clearly been scorched. A huge section of the grass in the clearing that surrounded the cloister had burned down to the roots. The only buildings left untouched were the meditation house and the one in which he slept.
John sat down hard on the step. He had tried to dismiss the other night as a dream, or, at worse, a horrible vision given to him by Teer, but he couldn't deny the evidence he was faced with now. Something had happened here; something horrible that he couldn't explain. He wanted to be upset by the discovery, but as the sun rose slowly, he couldn't find it in him.
He got up and walked down to the orchard, pulling one of the soft, almost pear-like fruit from one of the trees and eating it as he made his way to the creek. When he reached the water's edge, he waded in fully clothed. The creek wasn't deep, coming no higher than mid thigh, but John submerged himself, enjoying the feel of cold water on his skin. He came up briefly for air then dipped back below the surface, scrubbing his hair with his hands. He resurfaced, shaking the water from his hair and eyes, then scrubbed at his clothes and skin. He dove under the water one last time before walking out of the creek into the sunlight.
The day was warm, and his skin and hair had already begun to dry by the time he made it back to the cloister. He felt compelled to resume repairs on the meditation building, more out of habit than any consuming desire to keep busy, but instead lay out on an patch of grass to air dry in the sun. He was taking the day off.
John hadn't realized he was dozing until he was brought back to awareness by a shout. "Sheppard! John!" He jerked upright. That was a voice he would recognize anywhere. To his horror, his cabin was ablaze. He could feel the heat radiating off the cabin from his spot on the grass.
"Rodney!" John shouted, and ran for the burning building. He searched the exterior, looking for some spot that wasn't swallowed in flame, but found none. As he rounded back to the front, he called out again. "Rodney, can you hear me?"
"John! Oh god, John, help. There's no way out!" John's heart raced and hands shook as he paced, searching for some way into the building. On the ground, he spotted one of the beams he had removed while mending the buildings. It was rotted and worthless as a support, but thick. John picked it up and turned back to the cabin.
"Stand back!" John shouted, then ran at the door, using the beam to knock loose the handle. He could feel the fire burning his skin but ignored it, focusing on nothing but getting inside to Rodney. Once the handle was broken free, John rammed the door with his shoulder. It cracked, but didn't give. He pulled back and threw his weight into the door again, falling forward as it broke apart beneath him.
As John tumbled inside, the burning pain dissipated, and the roar of the fire was muffled until it was almost inaudible. The room was cool, and glowed golden as if lit by hundreds of Christmas lights. "John," someone said quietly, and John spun around to see the man he had just thrown himself into a burning building to save.
"Rodney?" John said. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Is that really you?"
Rodney rolled his eyes and said, "Don't be stupid." John wasn't sure what that meant, but rushed forward and pulled Rodney into a crushing embrace anyway. Rodney returned it with equal enthusiasm, burying his face in the crook of John's neck. "Why are you here, John?"
"I couldn't save you. You were gone and I didn't know what else to do," John's voice hitched on the last words.
"At some point you're going to have to get over this savior complex. It wasn't your fault," Rodney said, but John shoved away.
"I fired the shot that killed you," John said, staring Rodney down.
"And I built the bomb that you rode into a hive ship!" Rodney shot back.
"That wasn't the same, and you know it," John said.
"In what way, exactly?" Rodney asked. "Because I told you to fire instead of running out with a, 'So long, Sheppard'?"
"Because I made a choice, Rodney!" John said. He balled his hands tightly into fists to keep them from shaking.
"Right. You knew for sure you were going to die, whereas I just knew I was probably going to die. I see the distinction now."
John sighed in exasperation. "I don't want to fight with you."
"Why not?" Rodney asked. "Don't you miss it?" John chuckled and drew Rodney into him again.
"Yeah, I do." John inhaled deeply, trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory.
"You know I think it's weird when you do that," Rodney said.
"I'm taking one for the road," John said unapologetically. "Why are you here?
"To make sure you get back to Atlantis," Rodney said.
"I don't want to go," John said, gripping Rodney tighter and not caring how petulant he sounded.
"Atlantis is home, John," Rodney said.
"It's not the same," John protested.
"No, probably not. For one thing, you'll have to worry constantly that Zelenka will accidentally sink the city or erase the entire Ancient database," Rodney said, smirking. "But it can still be good."
"Will I see you again?" John asked.
"Maybe. I don't know," Rodney said. Then John turned and their lips met and all the hollowed-out spaces inside him were filled again. It felt like summers on the lake, and Ferris wheels, and flying for the first time, and this? This was the memory he wanted to save forever.
They parted slowly, and Rodney looked into John's eyes and said, "You have to wake up now."
"What?" John asked, because he was more awake now than he had been in months.
"Awake, my Saint John. Leave all meaner things to low ambition, and the pride of kings."**
In the span of time it took to blink, the scene had changed before his eyes. He was staring up at the ceiling of a puddle jumper, blinking dumbly as people moved around him. John moaned loudly as the pain returned.
"Colonel Sheppard, can you hear me?" Teyla searched his eyes for a moment then turned to someone out of his line of sight. "Dr. Beckett, he is awake. John, I need you to stay very still. You are badly burned."
"Teyla?" John said, but it was little more than a whisper. "Where am I?"
"You are in a puddle jumper with myself, Ronon and Major Lorne. Dr. Beckett is also here to look after your injuries," she said.
"Where are we going?" John asked.
Teyla smiled down at him. "We're going home, John."
*****
End
*****
**Poem referenced was An Essay on Man by Alexander Pope. All lines came from Epistle 1, "On the Nature and State of Man with Respect to the Universe"
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Part One
Part Two