Fic: Antediluvian 2/2 (McKay/Sheppard, PG-13)
Title: Antediluvian
Author: threnodyjones
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: PG-13
Recipient: sgamadison
Summary: It was a cube. A big black cube. (15,400 words)
Author's Note: This story has been brought to you by two (2) colds, three (3) bottles of vodka, two (2) incredibly patient mods, one (1) amused boss, Freddie Mercury and my beta-fish cat_77. Merry Christmas sgamadison!
Part One
He meets some fragments huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.
Ozymandias, Horace Smith
As Rodney walked into the bay he was struck by the dead silence.
He'd been oblivious at first: scanning readings, monitoring the back-and-forth between the two ships, watching for any sign that something was off, something was wrong.
He should have been looking at the people around him, instead.
Jensen had been late to her post, claiming she'd just gotten off shift. When she'd showed up on the bridge, she'd looked like she'd already pulled a week's duty. An airman 3rd grade had the opposite problem.
“Airman, didn't you just get off shift?” Captain Levine had asked when a man Rodney had sat next to for two hours suddenly came back to his station after having been relieved. Rodney thought the guy had been perplexed when he'd answered, “No, Sir.”
It was Caldwell that made him start wondering what the hell was going on. He'd started talking about his son in such an honest and heartfelt way that Rodney had started to worry that a head injury had reared up and caused him not to remember. Because he knew Caldwell didn't have any kids.
He'd excused himself and gone looking for answers.
Now he was here. There should have been at least half a dozen people in the hanger examining the cube, and it was absolutely devoid of anybody doing the job they were paid for. There should have been a security team there in the room. He walked over to a table housing the primary computer to look at the system status. The sensors were still recording their logs and readings. Too bad there was nobody there to interpret the data.
Rodney felt almost irrationally pissed that apparently everybody had decided their relative mid-afternoon was quitting time. They only had limited time considering they were in their return trip, so where the fuck was everybody? There could be a good reason that didn't involve him screaming at both his people and Daedalus crew.
He touched his radio. “McKay to Zelenka.”
He glowered as his words echoed through the empty room, waiting for a response. Something wasn't right and he couldn't put his finger on it.
“McKay to Zelenka, where the hell are you?”
It took Rodney a moment to realize what had set him on edge, and he actually felt a bit proud of himself for noticing. The cube nearly touched the ceiling of the bay. A ceiling which was 19.2 feet taller than the bay doors. The cube had expanded. And none of them had noticed.
Rodney checked the scans again and as he scrolled through them he didn't read a change in dimension or mass. From the time they brought it inside. Then again, they hadn't noticed a loss of time. So either he didn't trust the log or he didn't trust his senses. Or maybe he couldn't trust anything. If it was him - his perception - maybe the sensor readings weren't compromised.
He waylaid a sergeant walking down the corridor, but the man didn't know anything about duty rosters. But he had seen the same thing Rodney had seen, frowning at the computer readings versus what he saw with his own eyes. Rodney hadn't - well, maybe he had been that relieved before, but if he had it was a close second.
Rodney left the hanger bay, looking for Radek in the usual places they'd carved out during their time on the Daedalus. The two primary labs were quietly busy, with no sign of Radek, though Novak had pulled apart two or three good sized pieces of equipment and was doing something with them.
Radek himself was tucked away with a laptop, a desk and a white board scrawled with equations. He was staring into space, glasses off, looking like he hadn't slept in a week.
“Are you alright? I've been calling you for 15 minutes.”
Radek finally roused enough to blink at him. “I am sorry. I turned off my radio and the comm system in here.”
“Okay. Why?”
“I've been thinking. About it all.”
“About all of what?” Listen, the cube-”
“No, not the cube, not the cube. Some about the cube but also about everything else.” Radek rubbed harshly at his eyes. “I've been thinking and writing equations and trying to connect it." He waved tiredly towards the white board, and Rodney finally paid attention, finally saw what Radek was working on, recognized it inside and out. “That's my new math. You've been working on that?”
“Yes, yes. It is humbling and beautiful and all around us. It's like... It's like I opened my eyes and I see golden.”
What the hell did that mean? Rodney wondered. But he knew. He knew because he'd been there. He'd been there, but he'd turned away, because never, not once, did he think the answers to the universe should just be handed to him. He wanted to know them, but he'd long since learned that he wanted to know on his own terms.
Radek acting like this... scared the hell out of him because he wasn't alone and he detailed in bright neon to Rodney exactly how wrong things were with the people around him. Things weren't right and nobody seemed to care. Everybody was taking it in stride, leaving Rodney to wonder if he'd fallen through the proverbial rabbit hole or if he'd just gone clinically insane. He decided to taken option number three, but where did that leave him, with two ships full of people that would take any advantage?
“Radek...”
Radek focused on him and blinked. He looked like he was coming out of a daze for a moment.
“You sound worried, Rodney. What is it?”
“I... Do you know what Novak is working on?”
“What do you mean?”
“She's working on something in Lab 2. It looked big.”
“I don't know. She was here with me a few days ago, and she must have gone away.”
“A few days ago? How long have you been in here?”
“Five, maybe six days. You know what's it's like, sleep, food, work, running into each other. I'm rather surprised you haven't come looking for me before this.”
“I saw you yesterday!”
“No, you didn't.”
“We had lunch. You ate corned beef.”
“Rodney, that was nearly a week ago.”
“No, it was yesterday.”
Radek looked horrified. “You've lost time,” he said, getting up and moving closer. “Rodney, we need to get you to the infirmary right now.”
Rodney recoiled, fright, anger, he didn't care. “I haven't lost any time! You've gained it, why aren't you seeing it? Everybody on the fucking ship has been gaining or losing time all over the place and nobody is noticing. What the hell is going on!”
“Rodney, go to the infirmary. Get checked out.” Radek sounded calm, reasonable. Rodney wanted to deck him.
“I'll go if you go.”
“I do not need to go. And I am busy working on these equations. Which you should be helping with, by the way.”
“I- are you kidding me? What about the cube?”
“The cube,” Radek repeated, blinking. “Why are you still working on the cube? Didn't we take it with us?”
Rodney moved back, towards the door. “Maybe you're right. I'll just... go. And you just... stay here. Keep working or whatever.”
Radek was already turning back to the equations, losing himself in them. “Yes, yes.”
Rodney made quick way to the infirmary hoping to find someone to help him. He didn't expect to see so many people in there when he arrived, and he certainly didn't expect to see Teyla in one of the beds.
“Oh my God,” he hurried over to her. “What's wrong? Why didn't anybody tell us? Me? What's wrong?”
Teyla grasped at his hand and he took it, patting it awkwardly. “I have not been feeling well since we found you, but yesterday it was especially bad. I felt coming here might be prudent.”
“You're what, just sick? Have you been throwing up? Is-”
Teyla just barely moved her head back and forth. “No. No this is- it sounds rather foolish to say, but I'm hearing noises. Sounds.”
A man in the next bed over roused. “Dozens of sounds layered over each another, always changing. They're always changing. Humming.”
“Airman Langdon has also been hearing sounds,” Teyla said, and she managed to cast a sympathetic look Langdon's way. “Judd has unfortunately been suffering greater effects. His symptoms seem very similar to mine, though.”
“What's the doctor said?”
“The doctor has had his hands full,” Teyla said in the voice she always used when being diplomatic. Rodney knew that voice very, very well since she tossed it his way so much. “We have been given drugs for nausea.”
“He doesn't have any clue.” Rodney sighed and Teyla looked a bit miserable before visibly centering herself again.
“Okay, work with me here," he said. "Some odd things have been happening around the ship. When exactly did this start? Were you sick before you came aboard the Daedalus?”
“No. I think I started a few hours after I came aboard, but Rodney - it was very subtle. At first it was nothing more than discordant notes, something I may have imagined. It became more prominent as time went on.”
“They keep changing. Heavier, lighter. Louder, softer.”
Rodney tried to ignore the creepy shiver that crawled up his back when Langdon spoke. “What does it sound like?”
Teyla sighed. “Actually, much like Judd just described. It - Rodney, it is like every thing has a hum, a sound, attached to it. Some sounds are very quiet, almost unnoticeable. Others are very prominent, and there are some sounds we cannot place but are there, greater than the others, but dampened. I- I'm sorry. It's very difficult to describe. But they are all there. Every sound is unique and present, with all the other sounds.”
“Kind of like if I turned every song on my laptop on at the same time,” Rodney murmured aloud.
“It sings at night,” Langdon said.
Teyla ignored Langdon this time. “Yes, I think so.”
“Well no wonder you're sick.” A thought struck Rodney. “Am I humming?”
“Yes. I can barely hear it because of the other noise, but it's there.”
Rodney nearly got distracted. “We'll come back to that other noise in a minute. Let me,” he looked around the infirmary and saw something that might work. “Close your eyes and keep focused on the noise you hear from me. Are your eyes closed?”
He saw Teyla's eyes roll underneath her lids. “Yes, Rodney.”
“Good.” He went and lifted one of the (extremely heavy!) vitals monitors.
“What did you do!” Teyla's eyes shot open. Langdon had lifted his head and was staring glassily at him, too.
“And now!” Rodney set down the monitor and moved away from it. “It changed again, didn't it. I'm right, right?”
Rodney walked back to the chair by the bed. Teyla looked at him with confusion and dawning hope.“Yes. Rodney, do you know what this is? Do you know how to stop this?”
“Lemme get back to that. What made you come here? I mean aside from the sounds ganging up on you, you said it got worse. What changed?”
“A sound started yesterday. Much more intense than anything else. Loud and... piercing, though it is not a highly pitched noise. And it changes constantly.”
Rodney closed his eyes. “Let me guess, this started a little after thirteen hundred hours.” Right after they'd entered hyperspace.
“Rodney,” Teyla said, stern and he heard a hint of fear. “What is this?”
“Okay, this is very simplified and I'm sorry but you don't look like you want to hear the whole thing. Everything with mass and movement emits a wave. These waves are so small they can't be effectively observed even in objects with the mass of planets, but just take it as a given that everything has them.”
Teyla seemed to catch on. “And you think Airman Langdon and I are somehow hearing these waves? If I understand you correctly, how could such a thing possible?”
“That's the question, isn't it,” Rodney muttered. “What wrong with the rest of the people in here. Are they hearing the same things you and Langdon are?”
“No, the doctor called it a word I didn't recognize. Sin... sin-”
“Synesthesia?”
“Yes!”
“Oh, I was afraid of that. We have an idiot for a doctor.”
“Rodney,” Teyla scolded.
“What! Synesthesia is not something that just breaks out. You're born with it or you aren't or you've been tripping on acid. Something effects the brain, and somehow I doubt a group of people decided to break out the happy dots while trapped between galaxies with their commanding officers. I'm going to go talk to him. Oh, what's his name?”
“Armas. Thank you, Rodney,” she said, relaxing back into her pillow.
“I haven't done anything.”
“Consider it advance thanks, then.”
“Oh, thanks,” he grumbled. Teyla smiled wanly and he left.
.
"John, I want you to be taken care of-"
"I don't need your money."
"If anything happens to you, I want you to have resources. John, I'm trying to-"
"I know what you're trying to do, Dad," he said, sitting back in his chair. "I even - I think I even appreciate it. But if anything happens to me, I'll either be dead or so far out of your range of influence that it won't make any difference."
John said it as matter-of-fact as he could, trying to soften a statement that for people outside of the SGC was harsh and unforgiving but had been a state of being for him for so long that he didn't know how to pretend differently anymore. He shouldn't have bothered; his father now looked like he'd collapsed inside himself and John didn't feel good. He sighed and tried to think of what to say.
"Listen, what I do for a living makes things pretty much either-or. But when things happen, I'm taken care of by good people, the best at what they do. We look out for each other and money and political or business influence just... doesn't come in to it."
"John, that's naïve," his father held out his hands and John shut up to let him finish. "I'm not saying that to make you mad, belittle your people or whatever else you want to accuse me of right now, but it's naïve. Everything always comes down to money and power."
John thought about it and actually smiled a bit, thinking of desperation, friendship, and a 25-700-48,000 year plan to save him. Money and influence had their place, but... "Not everything."
"John?"
John opened his eyes and blinked blearily. "Rodney?"
"Listen, I need to know, what we're you dreaming about? What were you dreaming about right now?"
"I was - I was back in my father's hospital room."
"Okay, good. Now listen to me. Have these dreams been overlapping at all? Have you been ... I don't know, going back to the same starting point, or are they just continuations of it all?"
"What?"
"Come on, just try and answer the question."
"I think they're just picking up where I left off. I mean, I can't prove it, but that's what it feels like. Why? What difference does it make?"
"John, how did your father die?"
"Dave said it was a heart attack, but he didn't give me any details. Just that it was quick."
"It was quick?"
"Well, that nobody expected him to go so fast."
"So he could have died in a hospital then. Had one attack and then maybe a bigger one?"
"What the hell are you getting at, Rodney?"
"Okay, just realize I'm not really certain, but I think you might actually be there in your father's hospital room."
John didn't say anything, because there wasn't much he could say to that. He sat up. "Okay. Tell me what you're talking about. From the beginning."
"Ever since we picked up that cube, space and time haven't been acting right. Everybody seems to be affected, but it looks like it's different for everyone."
"Alright. How?"
"Well you're-"
"Let's skip me for a moment." Because John might be willing to believe the possibility, but first he wanted more proof that Rodney wasn't the one who was nuts.
"Caldwell's been taking off early to go spend time with his son."
Something like ice went through John's veins. "I didn't know Caldwell had a son."
"He doesn't. Yet, at least. Except he does. He's two years old and sick with something that's been keeping the Colonel up at night. And let's talk about Radek who's been playing with my new math and having a transcendental epiphany over it. He understands it, except I think he's getting too distracted to work on it. Or then there's Ronon, who's becoming quite an accomplished composer. A bit of something between Tchaikovsky and Brahms, which I wouldn't have considered, but he pulls it off fairly well. And in sickbay there are three crewmen because the doctor thought it was a breakout of synesthesia. Turns out they're just seeing different parts of the electromagnetic spectrum than the rest of us. But what really takes the sickbay cake is Teyla and Airman Langdon."
"Teyla's in sickbay? When did that happen?"
"Yesterday, apparently. She said that it's been bothering her for a couple of days, and yesterday afternoon it was bad enough to make her find the doctor. She is hearing hyperspace. John, she is literally hearing hyperspace. I mean, it's fascinating -"
"Rodney."
"No, seriously. She's okay, go talk to her yourself. But it turns out she's not just hearing hyperspace, she's hearing the energy that's emitted by anything that has mass and speed. Which right now is everything because we're hurtling through space."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"If the cube is affecting everybody, what's it doing to you?"
"Well I don't - I haven't actually noticed anything... odd. Aside from all of you, of course. Unfortunately, that might not mean anything seeing as over the past day Zelenka has spent a week contemplating his naval. I don't think time has any meaning for any of us anymore." Something must have occurred to Rodney because he stopped and stared into thin air. "Actually, that's interesting."
"Mind thinking out loud for the rest of the class?" John asked when Rodney stayed quiet.
"Well, if time isn't having any meaning for us, why would space? Oh, crap. Oh, that wouldn't be good. Come on, we have to get to the bridge."
John got up and followed quickly, because Rodney was already half way down the hall before the door closed behind them. When they hit the last set of doors Rodney pushed through, beelining towards the main strategy station. John slammed to a halt.
"Where the hell is everybody?" John asked. There was nobody on the bridge. Not a good sign at all.
"Well gee, maybe now you'll listen to me," Rodney said snottily, focused on typing something into one of the terminals.
"I was listening to you before but that still doesn't tell me why the bridge is empty!"
Rodney stopped and spun in his chair. "Why weren't you on the bridge?"
He couldn't believe the question. "Because I was sleeping, McKay. Since you woke me up, I really didn't think you needed that explained out loud."
"At two in the afternoon?" Rodney's voice was level, serious. John blinked.
"What?"
"Check your watch. It's two o'clock. P. M. Well, two-fifteen, by now."
His watch read 14:18.
"Rodney, what the hell-"
"Shit," Rodney breathed, barely audible. John moved to look over his shoulder, but nothing he saw on the screen made sense to him. "That just can't be right."
"What is it?" Rodney didn't answer. John shoved at his shoulder and ground out, "McKay, what is it?"
"The cube was stationary ever since we encountered it."
"Well of course it was."
"No, I mean it hadn't moved in space since we got there. I think it might have had zero movement in relation to the space around it. Everything's moving. We're moving, even if it doesn't look like it. We might look like we're holding a static position in relation to everything else, but in reality," and oh, the irony in using that word, "we're still moving due to forces we don't recognize as acting upon us. It's like earth moving through space on a macro scale. The planet isn't just circling the sun, it's part of a huge galactic system. If the Earth stopped circling the sun, it would still be moving in relation to the rest of the universe, because the universe is always moving."
John had always liked to hang around with the smart people but he'd never been prepared for this. "I don't get it."
"That thing in the hanger bay is warping time and you're probably proof that it's warping space-time. And given some of these readings - not that I can trust them - it's probably warping space as well. I mean, relational movement is completely subjective so I can't tell you the intensity of the effect, but - look, we think we're moving through hyperspace, but we might not be because that cube might not be moving. In relation to anything. It might still be in the same space it had been before we started moving and so are we. Either that or the Daedalus is becoming infinitely long as we move closer towards Atlantis and the cube stays where it was."
"Well, given everything else, that might actually be a possibility." John felt bad after saying it; Rodney collapsed into himself and didn't look so hot. "Can we get rid of it? Toss it out the bay doors?"
"Obviously you haven't been in the jumper bay recently."
A chill raced up John's back. "No, why?"
"It's a little bit bigger than it was before." Rodney let out a long and noisy breath. John didn't say anything, just in case Rod- "'It sings at night.'"
"Uh... what?"
"When I was visiting Teyla, when she was trying to describe what she was hearing, Langdon said 'it sings at night'. I didn't pay much attention because he was rambling at that point, but a couple of days ago I was mad because the sensors in the bay weren't giving me the answers I wanted and Makhanya said maybe I should ask the cube. I thought he was just being a jackass."
John connected the dots in Rodney's fashion to figure out what he was saying. "Oh, come on. You really think this thing could be alive?"
Rodney shrugged, not looking convinced himself. "Or sentient. I mean, anything's possible, right?"
"Especially at this point," John said, feeling irritation with Rodney well up. "Rodney, if this thing is affecting people, changing their reality, why do you think it's not affecting you right now? How do you know that if you go in there and that thing is alive that it's not because you made it that way?"
"That's a little Michael Crichton-ish, don't you think?"
"I think I need to know if you're thinking clearly. I mean it, Rodney."
John watched Rodney rub his eyes with the heels of his hands.
"Did you realize anything was wacky before I told you? Anything at all?"
John had to admit he hadn't. Everything had just been day-to-day transit operations.
"And do you admit that at least something strange is going on? Can't we just go with this for a little while longer?" Rodney looked tired, wrung out.
"You can't prove it, can you," John said, which wasn't really fair when Rodney apparently was the only person seeing things even a little more clearly. He sighed. "Yeah, okay. Let's go. But I'm taking us out of hyperspace first."
.
John remained back from the cube, close to the doors. Whether from a desire to keep other people out of the bay while Rodney tried out his theory or because he was worried proximity would affect him, Rodney didn't know. Though if it was proximity he would have to yell at Sheppard for being an idiot since, hello, distance hadn't been an issue so far.
He moved in close to the cube, wondering how to go about figuring out if the damned thing really was alive or aware or just a big joke on everybody aboard the Daedalus and Apollo.
Up close the surface had smoothed out to a flat, unblemished surface, and he wondered if it had happened while the cube was growing without anyone noticing or if it had happened earlier. He skimmed the wall with his palm, feeling hardness but nothing else. No heat, no cold, no give.
So if you're there, how to I talk to you?
It felt like an invasion until it felt like a homecoming.
He could feel them, feel/taste/hear every single many/one and it/they got distracted by taste, tried to make him make them understand but he couldn't. They didn't seem to have much in common at all, only the vaguest of concepts picked up from drifting and moving in and out of spaces-with-thought. Because they existed/didn't exist, had presence without substance and wait-
Rodney went back to that, wanted to know more, wanted it explained and they tried but they couldn't because they didn't understand cube or bigger or shape. He understood their lost and confusion, so he started there, started trying to build an exchange of concept-words. They started to flood him with light and dark and millions of colors in patterns that hurt his head until they stopped because he wasn't interacting anymore.
He felt adrift and confused, because they wanted to know color. He thought green and red and blue and they didn't understand. He thought light and color and then light, pure bright light. He received a weird strobe effect in return; long, long pauses of darkness which gave way at random intervals to bursts of light. Rodney thought about it, and the longer he did the more voices joined in, until there was a cacophony of light flickering into a formless cloud.
And suddenly he thought he understood.
“Hey!”
Rodney heard and he lost his balance, toppling over. He was caught before he hit the ground, by Ronon.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. He closed his eyes, trying to regain some equilibrium and failing spectacularly. He could still hear/see the cube's inquiry/alone/pleased and it was making his eyes blur as it stretched across space.
“I called him,” John was talking and he tried concentrating on physical sensations. “I thought backup might be useful. Teyla's outside. She tried coming in but said it was too loud in here”
Rodney tried to focus his frustration, to make it understand that he couldn't function while the cube was doing this, but he didn't know if the cube understood frustration yet. “You waited here all this time for me?”
“All what time? It's only been twenty minutes or so.”
“Twenty... oh that is so fucking typical! Twenty fucking minutes.”
“Well how much time do you think passed?”
“At least a couple of days.” Rodney watched almost transfixed as a curl of worry/alarm spiked out of John, heading towards him but darting away at the last moment into Ronon. “It's not what you're thinking,” he said, rubbing feeling back into his face. “It's the... My brain patterns were changed on a... they were changed. They're different. I'm different. It's why I wasn't affected beyond the initial time loss we all experienced.”
“Right,” John said, not at all convinced. “Rodney, do you know what the hell is going on?”
Rodney gathered his scattered thoughts and finally nodded. He grabbed Ronon's arm and pulled lightly, asking for help up. He was completely wiped out. “Yeah. I think I got through to it. But we need to get a meeting together. Come on.”
.
"It's alive," Rodney said, slouched over the edge of the conference table trying to keep himself propped up with his folded arms. He was so obviously exhausted that John wanted to drag him to his room and lock him in until he'd slept for a week. "Kind of."
They'd gathered as many of the ship's top people together as they could find (or distract), so Rodney had an audience of about 30 people, plus the feed to the Apollo. Teyla had decided to show up too, despite looking very green around the gills. Ellis had beamed over for the meeting and was sitting next to her.
"It's a... colony, if you will. A colony of creatures which are nothing more than points in space."
"Doctor, what you're saying defies the laws of physics," spoke up one of the engineers stationed to the ship. John hadn't seen him before.
"Right, because nothing like that's been happening recently," Rodney retorted, but it lacked bite. "Listen, it's very important that everybody here understands this: it's not - they're not malicious. They've been out here a long time, and I got the impression they'd never come across anything like us before. It was just curious and I honestly don't think it understands that it's messing with our perception of reality. Or reality itself for that matter. The area where we found the cube is literally a place where all the dimensions are empty, I think. Maybe a null space-time. They got lost. Didn't know which way to go."
Caldwell rubbed hard at his temple; John wondered if he was trying to work out a tension headache and commiserated. "Doctor, I realize that most of us won't understand this when the day is finished, but can you at least try to elaborate?"
"On what?" Rodney looked just as lost as the rest of them. And where was Zelenka?
"On-" Caldwell paused and laughed in disbelief. "Points in space violate laws of physics. Why, how, what?"
John watched Rodney deflate even more and wondered how bad this was going to be. "Sir, a point in space is only supposed to be a location. A cube has three dimensions," John mimed out the shape, "a square is two, a line is one. A point doesn't have any."
"A singularity," Caldwell asked and John looked to Rodney because, well, yeah, that's how he'd describe it, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the case here. What with the ship still existing and all.
"In the case of gravity, yes," Rodney said. "What we have here is obviously different. To have enough points in space to see with a microscope is..."
"Impossible," some one said.
"Impossible. To have enough for us to see, let alone be the size of that cube... I don't know what to tell you. And it's alive. To be honest, I'm not even sure it's actually in our... plane of existence; dimension; universe." Rodney broke off, frustration oozing from him. "God, I hate how that sounds, because it's not accurate but I don't think words really exist yet to describe it."
Dr. Michael Levine spoke up. "Doctor McKay, this cube has to have mass. It has dimension. We can see that, which means it's not just points in space!"
"And what if-"
Levine cut Rodney off. "I can take a tape measure-"
"And I would be happy to debate you after I've had about 56 hours of sleep! Let's just take it as a given that our professors didn't actually know everything about the universe, okay? I would love for the universe and its infinite dimensions to be that simple but I'm pretty sure our careers have proven otherwise, wouldn't you say?" Rodney rolled his neck a couple of times and cracked his back.
"This thing, this cube. The reason I'm not sure it's entirely in our dimension is because it doesn't adhere to any form of reality we recognize. It seems to exist in whatever time it wants to, whatever space it wants to. We've been directing it in space-time, and as far as we've learned from the Asgaard and the Ancients our... universe... just doesn't work like that."
Ellis, quiet up to this point, finally spoke. "So what do we do? Can we destroy the cube?"
"God, no! We're you listening? It's not doing this on purpose!"
Ellis looked Rodney squarely in the eyes. "It was just a question, Doctor. It might not be acting out of aggression, but it's still affecting us in a negative way."
Rodney shook his head wildly. "It didn't understand. Don't you get that? Our way of existence was so foreign to it that it literally did not understand what it was doing to us. Much as I'm sure we don't understand it. It didn't even have a concept for space-time or any dozens of concepts we take for granted. I tried to get that across, and I'm pretty sure it worked. The effects seem to be subsiding pretty rapidly."
"Doctor McKay, if this thing is warping our perceptions, then how do you know what you're saying is accurate?"
Despite the source, John thought it a valid question. Rodney seemed to sober and focus for a moment.
"Colonels, I think I'm the only person not affected at this point. Can you say the same for yourselves?" John had been expecting the question, and was the only person in the room who could still look at Rodney. He watched, lightly amused but mostly alarmed, as the rest of the people shifted uncomfortably or averted their eyes. Everybody had been experiencing something because of this thing. Dear God, he had to get out of Rodney why he hadn't been affected.
"What do you suggest, McKay?" Caldwell asked.
Rodney finally stopped and had to really think. "There's a nebula on our side of Pegasus," he said finally. "We could release it there."
John couldn't stop himself. "I'm sorry, is that supposed to be a good idea?"
"It's been lost out here. Completely adrift in the space between galaxies that it stopped itself in time and space until it got it's bearing again. It's alone with nothing out here. Has anybody been seriously, adversely affected? Really? You all may be unnerved by what accidentally happened, but if these creatures understand what happened and why and make an effort for it not to happen again, isn't it a little parsimonious to just leave them in the middle of nowhere?"
"How can we be sure that anything like this won't happen in the future, Doctor McKay? To anyone," Ellis asked, calmly.
John watched Rodney take a moment to think, either that or prepare himself for a collected rebuttal. Maybe both.
"Let's give it a test run. We're still well over a week from Pegasus. If anything weird happens, we can still drop the cube off and get the hell out. Otherwise let's... at least give it something interesting to work with in our dimension."
Ellis and Caldwell had a quiet, murmured conversation, words whispered quietly back and forth that left John on edge. He tried to kick Rodney's leg under the table, but missed - they just weren't close enough, and he wanted nothing more than to get Rodney's attention, give him some show of support. Teyla must have noticed, because he saw her leg dart out and touch Rodney's ankle, garnering his notice. She nodded at him and when Rodney looked over John quirked a smile. It wasn't much, but it must have been enough, because Rodney relaxed a bit, sinking into his seat to wait for the verdict with a calm John hadn't thought he'd had.
.
O light the candle, John
The daylight has almost gone
The birds have sung their last
The bells call all to mass
Skellig, Loreena McKennitt
"I don't know how much longer I can stay, Dad."
John's father was resting solidly against his pillows, fatigued and close to drifting. He looked at John with rheumy eyes, blinking with a bit of sadness, but mostly acknowledgment. "Your brother should be here soon."
"I'll stay here as long as I can. But I really do have to leave soon. Listen. I'm... I'm glad I was able to be here. I don't think I was supposed to get this chance, but I'm really glad I did."
"John, you should come by for lunch once I'm out. I'm sure you could arrange more time off from your posting for that at least."
John nodded, at the same time as he felt something inside him cracking. They still didn't know if this was real or not, but if it was he didn't want to abandon his father on a sour note. But it didn't stop him from hating that whatever he promised him would never happen. "I'll talk to my superiors. See if I can't get another week out of them. They may even owe me."
His father nodded, slowly and thoughtfully, and John wondered if his father didn't have some sort of clue. Patrick hadn't gotten to his station without being able to ferret out the truth, and he'd taught John and Dave the same tricks.
"At least keep in touch with us. Don't blame David for what happened between you and me. Please tell me you know better than that."
He had and he hadn't. Knowing and separating what he felt were two wildly different things. "Dave didn't entirely help things along, you know."
"John, please. He's your family. At least you've got the chance to reconnect with him."
"Dad. Dave and I will work things out. It might take a while, but I- I promise you that we'll work things out."
Between one breath and another things started feeling more distant, the hospital less solid. Colors started bleaching out and for the first time John felt like his time was limited. "Dad, I don't know if any of this is real or not, but I'm happy. I've got good friends and a job I wouldn't trade for anything. And trust me when I say that. I think you'd want to know that. I'm good. I'm really good. And barring the bad guys making it to Earth, Dave and I will be okay. I promise you."
His father opened his mouth, started saying something, but John didn't hear anything. Sound was gone and as soon as he realized that he realized he was touching the cube, feeling the unblemished surface under his hand, cool/warm to the touch. He grimaced as he worked through his thoughts.
Eventually he patted the cube and walked out of the hanger bay.
.
"Apollo, this is the Daedalus. We are preparing to drop off our passenger. We'll rendezvous with you at the outer edge of the nebula in an hour. Daedalus out." Caldwell ended his transmission and nodded to the airman manning navigation.
"Acknowledged, Daedalus. Be careful in there."
"Proceed," he murmured. "Doctor, are you ready?"
Rodney nodded. "I'm headed down to the bay now, Colonel."
The bay had about twenty people milling about, Sheppard included. Rodney walked over to him.
"Caldwell's bringing us into position," he said quietly, trying not to crowd Sheppard and not entirely succeeding. The cube was noticeably smaller than the last time Rodney had seen it.
Sheppard nodded, but didn't say anything for a few moments. "It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" he asked, canting his head towards the cube. "I think it knows it's time to leave. It's been getting smaller for the past hour. Half the people in here have been freaking out because the dimensional changes still aren't registering. I think the other half are planning on starting a religion."
Rodney nearly said, "Which side are you on?" but it came a bit too close to a truth he really didn't want to explore right then. So he clapped his hands loudly and moved away from John. "Okay, people, the bay needs to be cleared now unless you really do want to be exposed to vacuum or nebula gases."
When the last person had been ushered out, Sheppard contacted Caldwell from the comm unit in the hallway. "Colonel Caldwell, all personnel have evacuated the hanger bay. We're ready down here."
"Acknowledged. Opening the bay door."
Rodney stared at the closed doors, blocking him from seeing what was happening on the other side of them. "I'm gonna go watch this from the bridge. You coming?"
John shook his head slowly, like he was thinking about it. "Actually, I've got a better spot. Come on."
.
The mess hall had more than a few people who'd had the same idea, but it wasn't overcrowded or oppressive. And there was a spectacular view of the nebula beyond the shields.
"Oh, that's beautiful," Rodney whispered. Plasma filaments streaked and webbed in front of them in a dozen colors and when the ship passed through a thread the gases played along the lines of the shield. Rodney heard a vague commotion from the people at the far end of the room; the cube had come into their view.
"There it goes," Sheppard said quietly.
Rodney could feel it out there, feel it's curiosity and something that he guessed translated into happiness. It likes it here, he thought. The fast/slow movements of the gases as they coalesced and dispersed in chaotic motion caught him and he couldn't look away. The cube started moving in that direction.
"Hey," John whispered, jostling his arm. Rodney took a deep breath and focused on the cube, which started a slow turn. "Is it just me, or is it getting bigger?"
The cube pirouetted rapidly before coming to an abrupt halt which left Rodney feeling dizzy, and now that it was still he could see it growing. It was big. Much bigger than the Daedalus, now.
"Are we going to be in trouble here?"
"No," Rodney murmured. "It's just saying goodbye."
He felt John's sharp look, but thankfully nothing was said.
And then the cube disappeared into the nebula.
.
Rodney's unease increased the closer he got to the room he'd traced Zelenka to, and he began to worry that he'd let this lie for too long. Radek hadn't been seen since before they'd dropped off the cube, and while yes, it had only be a couple of hours - Rodney frowned, more like 6 or 7 when he thought about it - he still was left feeling like Radek was too alone.
It didn't help that every time he thought about Zelenka he felt adrift, disconnected from everything. Ironically, it felt too clear to believe it was really him feeling like that.
He opened the door without waiting for any sort of permission. It was technically a public room, not that he cared at the moment. The inside was barren, obviously a room waiting for storage materials. Zelenka, being the only object in the room, was easy to find and Rodney sat down on the floor across from him.
Rodney looked over his haggard face, deep lines which made the man look smaller and more fragile than he was. He really didn't know what to say at the moment. Saying nothing was always the easier choice.
"You should probably report to the infirmary," he eventually said, after no acknowledgment from Radek. He got nothing for his effort, and finally settled against the opposite wall to wait it out.
Time passed, and Rodney was so tired. He may have fallen asleep, or dozed, or maybe just drifted in a fugue, but after a lengthy wait Zelenka started talking.
"It was like I was connected to the universe. I could feel everything. It was not like when you nearly ascended. That was... understanding the universe, but this was like... I was part of it. And now it's gone. Fading to a bleached canvas. If I am very lucky I will end up remembering nothing. But somehow I think I will not be that lucky."
Radek sounded defeated and... hopeless. Like he'd done the one great thing in life and now he didn't know how to live the rest of his years. It hurt Rodney, hearing him like that.
"You're wrong, you know," he said finally.
"Wrong about what, Rodney?"
"I didn't 'nearly ascend' two years ago."
"What are you talking about?"
"I did ascend two years ago." Rodney looked away. It was bad enough he was finally confessing this, he didn't want to have to try and look someone in the eye while he did it. "It happened so fast that I wasn't surprised when none of the machines hooked up to me caught it. From our perspective it was so quick, so infinitesimal that it didn't happen. But it did and I remember just enough to know that on the other side it was a lot longer than it was here."
"Rodney..." Radek sounded broken.
"And I will always be grateful that Carson was able to bring me back. Always."
"How can you say that? It's nearly blasphemous."
Rodney looked up and was startled to see Radek crying, or at least in silent tears. Then again, he was in the same boat and he swiped at the corner of his eye with his thumb. "Because I don't want the secrets of the universe handed to me like I'm a kid in Sunday school! It's too easy. Everything I did in that pre-ascension phase was me. My learning curve may have been artificially accelerated, but every single thing I did was mine. Do you really think you'll know everything if you ascend? Because I don't. But I think you'll know just enough that you'll forget you don't know everything and stop trying to figure things out."
Radek's expression had gradually changed as Rodney ranted, and now he was looking at Rodney like he had a second head or a third arm or something else completely inexplicable. They sat breathing together with the quiet hum of the engines breaking the dead silence.
Eventually Rodney heard quiet words. "You, my friend, I think are a far better man than I."
Rodney shook his head, violently disagreeing. "You got caught up in the shiny glitter, Radek. You did a hell of a lot better than I did when it happened to me."
"Yes, well. There was no solar system nearby."
Rodney nearly choked trying to swallow the involuntary laugh Radek's arid statement caused. But then he couldn't stop smiling, because it was the first time - the first time ever - Radek had joked about Arcturus. It was always Sheppard who did the joking, who used caustic barbs and wit to chip away at the hard feelings the whole mess had caused. Pretty successfully, too, for the most part.
But he and Radek... they'd hashed out a détente and continued on with both their working relationship and their friendship, but Radek had never forgotten the gravity of Rodney's actions, never belittled the seriousness of what he had said.
It kind of made Rodney think he was completely forgiven now.
"So listen, are you going to be okay now? Because if you're aren't I should really know in advance because I'll have to start looking for your replacement and we'll have to make sure we have a padded room ready for you at what I'm sure will be a very nice institution located somewhere in the Swiss Alps, catering to physicists who've been driven insane by their own work. And-"
"I'll be fine, Rodney."
And Rodney heard the sardonic note, the reassurance of future years resonating backwards to right now saying everything was going to be just fine with Radek Zelenka, even if the worst happened. It made him smile, and for just that moment he followed those happy notes as they spun out of his grasp and wafted into the stars.
.
Atlantis had been declared a festive zone to celebrate the safe return of the Daedalus, the Apollo, and the onset of Christmas/New Years. John had found out at lunch that the general date also coincided with the Satedan Celebration of Bells, so Ronon was planning on being slightly more active a participant this year than in years past.
"Festival only happens every three years," he'd said, decimating his salisbury steak. "Figured I'd ask McKay and Lieutenant Speer to help out."
John couldn't think of what Rodney and Lieutenant Speer had in common. "McKay? Why McKay?"
"It's a music festival."
"So why McKay and not me?" he asked. He played the guitar decently, at least.
Ronon stopped focusing on his food and turned a look of such absolute disbelief on John that he could fee the tips of his ears turning hot on principal. "Seriously?" John didn't think Ronon was answering his question, or at least not directly. "McKay? Piano lessons? Childhood trauma?"
John shook his head, expecting Ronon to elaborate but Ronon didn't cooperate.
"Listen, no offense, but I've heard you play. Just... do yourself a favor and don't look surprised." Ronon got up and went to buss his tray.
"Surprised when?" John called after him but Ronon just waved him off.
.
"You didn't tell me you played the piano," John said, stepping through the door as soon as Rodney called him in. Rodney looked askance at him, pausing in lighting a candle that was sitting on his nightstand.
"I didn't?" he asked, sounding honestly confused.
"No, you didn't," John replied, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. Rodney lit his candle and another besides.
"Sure I did. Didn't I?"
"No, you didn't, because if you had I would have remembered and wouldn't have had Ronon looking at me like I'm the worst excuse for a human he's ever met."
"Oh. Oh, well... whoops? Sorry."
"Seriously, what's with the candles?" John asked, after Rodney lit the sixth one. The room had started out dark, illuminated by the moon but there was enough of a glow for John to have noticed the others, sitting as unlit and cold lumps of wax on the desk and a couple of shelves.
Rodney turned and looked at him a bit incredulously. "It's Christmas," he said, thinking for a moment that it would be apparent. Then he sighed and lit another candle, taking more care than might have been necessary.
"It's this thing mom used to do when we were kids. Jeannie and I both picked it up from her. Dad was only so-so on the whole thing, but he always ended up liking the look of the house when she was finished, and we always had good memories of those nights. We'd all light candles on Christmas Eve, and stay up talking or playing games until midnight." Another candle. "I suppose it's a habit that stuck," he finished, vaguely embarrassed.
"Sounds like good memories." Rodney watched John pick up a candle and touch the wick to one of the larger flames. After a few minutes the candles started dwindling and John stilled unnaturally. "So... this thing with you and me..."
Rodney froze; he kept his gaze firmly on the candle he was trying to light.
"Yeah?"
"How much of it was us and how much of it was the cube?"
Rodney looked over, saw John motionless against the flicking of the candle flames, and he didn't think John was breathing, either. For a moment's flash he could see the possibilities swirling out in front of him, hear John telling him that he'd never considered Rodney before this, hear another one say that it was all the cube, that no matter what Rodney might think, there wasn't anything really there. He could see John moving towards him, past him, regret on his face because what they wanted couldn't be a consideration, he could see the apology on his face as he walked out the door, the anger, the distaste, the fear, the desire. Sometimes John stayed. The sights and sounds and feelings stretched and ebbed around him until he wanted to feel dizzy.
"How much do you think it was?" Rodney cringed at such a clichéd response; he might have known the cube hadn't affected him per se, but he just couldn't put himself out there, not with this, not twice. And he really didn't know if the cube had been causing John to act like that. He hadn't thought so at the time, but in hindsight it wasn't much comfort.
John finished lighting his candle and Rodney watched him stare at it for a while, breathless and almost seeing the space between them stretched thin with distance.
Finally John spoke. "I think this has been brewing between us for a while now."
Rodney couldn't deny it. John picked up his candle and held it out for Rodney to take.
"Hey, McKay. Merry Christmas." Rodney took the candle, quickly setting it down as John leaned in and kissed him.
"You're early," he said. "Christmas isn't for another two hours."
John's lips held a bit of a smirk. "Practice for New Year's."
"Yeah, okay." and Rodney kissed him, feeling the permutations and probabilities of the future spin away from him as John responded and tripped them both to the bed.
The End.
Author: threnodyjones
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: PG-13
Recipient: sgamadison
Summary: It was a cube. A big black cube. (15,400 words)
Author's Note: This story has been brought to you by two (2) colds, three (3) bottles of vodka, two (2) incredibly patient mods, one (1) amused boss, Freddie Mercury and my beta-fish cat_77. Merry Christmas sgamadison!
Part One
He meets some fragments huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.
Ozymandias, Horace Smith
As Rodney walked into the bay he was struck by the dead silence.
He'd been oblivious at first: scanning readings, monitoring the back-and-forth between the two ships, watching for any sign that something was off, something was wrong.
He should have been looking at the people around him, instead.
Jensen had been late to her post, claiming she'd just gotten off shift. When she'd showed up on the bridge, she'd looked like she'd already pulled a week's duty. An airman 3rd grade had the opposite problem.
“Airman, didn't you just get off shift?” Captain Levine had asked when a man Rodney had sat next to for two hours suddenly came back to his station after having been relieved. Rodney thought the guy had been perplexed when he'd answered, “No, Sir.”
It was Caldwell that made him start wondering what the hell was going on. He'd started talking about his son in such an honest and heartfelt way that Rodney had started to worry that a head injury had reared up and caused him not to remember. Because he knew Caldwell didn't have any kids.
He'd excused himself and gone looking for answers.
Now he was here. There should have been at least half a dozen people in the hanger examining the cube, and it was absolutely devoid of anybody doing the job they were paid for. There should have been a security team there in the room. He walked over to a table housing the primary computer to look at the system status. The sensors were still recording their logs and readings. Too bad there was nobody there to interpret the data.
Rodney felt almost irrationally pissed that apparently everybody had decided their relative mid-afternoon was quitting time. They only had limited time considering they were in their return trip, so where the fuck was everybody? There could be a good reason that didn't involve him screaming at both his people and Daedalus crew.
He touched his radio. “McKay to Zelenka.”
He glowered as his words echoed through the empty room, waiting for a response. Something wasn't right and he couldn't put his finger on it.
“McKay to Zelenka, where the hell are you?”
It took Rodney a moment to realize what had set him on edge, and he actually felt a bit proud of himself for noticing. The cube nearly touched the ceiling of the bay. A ceiling which was 19.2 feet taller than the bay doors. The cube had expanded. And none of them had noticed.
Rodney checked the scans again and as he scrolled through them he didn't read a change in dimension or mass. From the time they brought it inside. Then again, they hadn't noticed a loss of time. So either he didn't trust the log or he didn't trust his senses. Or maybe he couldn't trust anything. If it was him - his perception - maybe the sensor readings weren't compromised.
He waylaid a sergeant walking down the corridor, but the man didn't know anything about duty rosters. But he had seen the same thing Rodney had seen, frowning at the computer readings versus what he saw with his own eyes. Rodney hadn't - well, maybe he had been that relieved before, but if he had it was a close second.
Rodney left the hanger bay, looking for Radek in the usual places they'd carved out during their time on the Daedalus. The two primary labs were quietly busy, with no sign of Radek, though Novak had pulled apart two or three good sized pieces of equipment and was doing something with them.
Radek himself was tucked away with a laptop, a desk and a white board scrawled with equations. He was staring into space, glasses off, looking like he hadn't slept in a week.
“Are you alright? I've been calling you for 15 minutes.”
Radek finally roused enough to blink at him. “I am sorry. I turned off my radio and the comm system in here.”
“Okay. Why?”
“I've been thinking. About it all.”
“About all of what?” Listen, the cube-”
“No, not the cube, not the cube. Some about the cube but also about everything else.” Radek rubbed harshly at his eyes. “I've been thinking and writing equations and trying to connect it." He waved tiredly towards the white board, and Rodney finally paid attention, finally saw what Radek was working on, recognized it inside and out. “That's my new math. You've been working on that?”
“Yes, yes. It is humbling and beautiful and all around us. It's like... It's like I opened my eyes and I see golden.”
What the hell did that mean? Rodney wondered. But he knew. He knew because he'd been there. He'd been there, but he'd turned away, because never, not once, did he think the answers to the universe should just be handed to him. He wanted to know them, but he'd long since learned that he wanted to know on his own terms.
Radek acting like this... scared the hell out of him because he wasn't alone and he detailed in bright neon to Rodney exactly how wrong things were with the people around him. Things weren't right and nobody seemed to care. Everybody was taking it in stride, leaving Rodney to wonder if he'd fallen through the proverbial rabbit hole or if he'd just gone clinically insane. He decided to taken option number three, but where did that leave him, with two ships full of people that would take any advantage?
“Radek...”
Radek focused on him and blinked. He looked like he was coming out of a daze for a moment.
“You sound worried, Rodney. What is it?”
“I... Do you know what Novak is working on?”
“What do you mean?”
“She's working on something in Lab 2. It looked big.”
“I don't know. She was here with me a few days ago, and she must have gone away.”
“A few days ago? How long have you been in here?”
“Five, maybe six days. You know what's it's like, sleep, food, work, running into each other. I'm rather surprised you haven't come looking for me before this.”
“I saw you yesterday!”
“No, you didn't.”
“We had lunch. You ate corned beef.”
“Rodney, that was nearly a week ago.”
“No, it was yesterday.”
Radek looked horrified. “You've lost time,” he said, getting up and moving closer. “Rodney, we need to get you to the infirmary right now.”
Rodney recoiled, fright, anger, he didn't care. “I haven't lost any time! You've gained it, why aren't you seeing it? Everybody on the fucking ship has been gaining or losing time all over the place and nobody is noticing. What the hell is going on!”
“Rodney, go to the infirmary. Get checked out.” Radek sounded calm, reasonable. Rodney wanted to deck him.
“I'll go if you go.”
“I do not need to go. And I am busy working on these equations. Which you should be helping with, by the way.”
“I- are you kidding me? What about the cube?”
“The cube,” Radek repeated, blinking. “Why are you still working on the cube? Didn't we take it with us?”
Rodney moved back, towards the door. “Maybe you're right. I'll just... go. And you just... stay here. Keep working or whatever.”
Radek was already turning back to the equations, losing himself in them. “Yes, yes.”
Rodney made quick way to the infirmary hoping to find someone to help him. He didn't expect to see so many people in there when he arrived, and he certainly didn't expect to see Teyla in one of the beds.
“Oh my God,” he hurried over to her. “What's wrong? Why didn't anybody tell us? Me? What's wrong?”
Teyla grasped at his hand and he took it, patting it awkwardly. “I have not been feeling well since we found you, but yesterday it was especially bad. I felt coming here might be prudent.”
“You're what, just sick? Have you been throwing up? Is-”
Teyla just barely moved her head back and forth. “No. No this is- it sounds rather foolish to say, but I'm hearing noises. Sounds.”
A man in the next bed over roused. “Dozens of sounds layered over each another, always changing. They're always changing. Humming.”
“Airman Langdon has also been hearing sounds,” Teyla said, and she managed to cast a sympathetic look Langdon's way. “Judd has unfortunately been suffering greater effects. His symptoms seem very similar to mine, though.”
“What's the doctor said?”
“The doctor has had his hands full,” Teyla said in the voice she always used when being diplomatic. Rodney knew that voice very, very well since she tossed it his way so much. “We have been given drugs for nausea.”
“He doesn't have any clue.” Rodney sighed and Teyla looked a bit miserable before visibly centering herself again.
“Okay, work with me here," he said. "Some odd things have been happening around the ship. When exactly did this start? Were you sick before you came aboard the Daedalus?”
“No. I think I started a few hours after I came aboard, but Rodney - it was very subtle. At first it was nothing more than discordant notes, something I may have imagined. It became more prominent as time went on.”
“They keep changing. Heavier, lighter. Louder, softer.”
Rodney tried to ignore the creepy shiver that crawled up his back when Langdon spoke. “What does it sound like?”
Teyla sighed. “Actually, much like Judd just described. It - Rodney, it is like every thing has a hum, a sound, attached to it. Some sounds are very quiet, almost unnoticeable. Others are very prominent, and there are some sounds we cannot place but are there, greater than the others, but dampened. I- I'm sorry. It's very difficult to describe. But they are all there. Every sound is unique and present, with all the other sounds.”
“Kind of like if I turned every song on my laptop on at the same time,” Rodney murmured aloud.
“It sings at night,” Langdon said.
Teyla ignored Langdon this time. “Yes, I think so.”
“Well no wonder you're sick.” A thought struck Rodney. “Am I humming?”
“Yes. I can barely hear it because of the other noise, but it's there.”
Rodney nearly got distracted. “We'll come back to that other noise in a minute. Let me,” he looked around the infirmary and saw something that might work. “Close your eyes and keep focused on the noise you hear from me. Are your eyes closed?”
He saw Teyla's eyes roll underneath her lids. “Yes, Rodney.”
“Good.” He went and lifted one of the (extremely heavy!) vitals monitors.
“What did you do!” Teyla's eyes shot open. Langdon had lifted his head and was staring glassily at him, too.
“And now!” Rodney set down the monitor and moved away from it. “It changed again, didn't it. I'm right, right?”
Rodney walked back to the chair by the bed. Teyla looked at him with confusion and dawning hope.“Yes. Rodney, do you know what this is? Do you know how to stop this?”
“Lemme get back to that. What made you come here? I mean aside from the sounds ganging up on you, you said it got worse. What changed?”
“A sound started yesterday. Much more intense than anything else. Loud and... piercing, though it is not a highly pitched noise. And it changes constantly.”
Rodney closed his eyes. “Let me guess, this started a little after thirteen hundred hours.” Right after they'd entered hyperspace.
“Rodney,” Teyla said, stern and he heard a hint of fear. “What is this?”
“Okay, this is very simplified and I'm sorry but you don't look like you want to hear the whole thing. Everything with mass and movement emits a wave. These waves are so small they can't be effectively observed even in objects with the mass of planets, but just take it as a given that everything has them.”
Teyla seemed to catch on. “And you think Airman Langdon and I are somehow hearing these waves? If I understand you correctly, how could such a thing possible?”
“That's the question, isn't it,” Rodney muttered. “What wrong with the rest of the people in here. Are they hearing the same things you and Langdon are?”
“No, the doctor called it a word I didn't recognize. Sin... sin-”
“Synesthesia?”
“Yes!”
“Oh, I was afraid of that. We have an idiot for a doctor.”
“Rodney,” Teyla scolded.
“What! Synesthesia is not something that just breaks out. You're born with it or you aren't or you've been tripping on acid. Something effects the brain, and somehow I doubt a group of people decided to break out the happy dots while trapped between galaxies with their commanding officers. I'm going to go talk to him. Oh, what's his name?”
“Armas. Thank you, Rodney,” she said, relaxing back into her pillow.
“I haven't done anything.”
“Consider it advance thanks, then.”
“Oh, thanks,” he grumbled. Teyla smiled wanly and he left.
.
"John, I want you to be taken care of-"
"I don't need your money."
"If anything happens to you, I want you to have resources. John, I'm trying to-"
"I know what you're trying to do, Dad," he said, sitting back in his chair. "I even - I think I even appreciate it. But if anything happens to me, I'll either be dead or so far out of your range of influence that it won't make any difference."
John said it as matter-of-fact as he could, trying to soften a statement that for people outside of the SGC was harsh and unforgiving but had been a state of being for him for so long that he didn't know how to pretend differently anymore. He shouldn't have bothered; his father now looked like he'd collapsed inside himself and John didn't feel good. He sighed and tried to think of what to say.
"Listen, what I do for a living makes things pretty much either-or. But when things happen, I'm taken care of by good people, the best at what they do. We look out for each other and money and political or business influence just... doesn't come in to it."
"John, that's naïve," his father held out his hands and John shut up to let him finish. "I'm not saying that to make you mad, belittle your people or whatever else you want to accuse me of right now, but it's naïve. Everything always comes down to money and power."
John thought about it and actually smiled a bit, thinking of desperation, friendship, and a 25-700-48,000 year plan to save him. Money and influence had their place, but... "Not everything."
"John?"
John opened his eyes and blinked blearily. "Rodney?"
"Listen, I need to know, what we're you dreaming about? What were you dreaming about right now?"
"I was - I was back in my father's hospital room."
"Okay, good. Now listen to me. Have these dreams been overlapping at all? Have you been ... I don't know, going back to the same starting point, or are they just continuations of it all?"
"What?"
"Come on, just try and answer the question."
"I think they're just picking up where I left off. I mean, I can't prove it, but that's what it feels like. Why? What difference does it make?"
"John, how did your father die?"
"Dave said it was a heart attack, but he didn't give me any details. Just that it was quick."
"It was quick?"
"Well, that nobody expected him to go so fast."
"So he could have died in a hospital then. Had one attack and then maybe a bigger one?"
"What the hell are you getting at, Rodney?"
"Okay, just realize I'm not really certain, but I think you might actually be there in your father's hospital room."
John didn't say anything, because there wasn't much he could say to that. He sat up. "Okay. Tell me what you're talking about. From the beginning."
"Ever since we picked up that cube, space and time haven't been acting right. Everybody seems to be affected, but it looks like it's different for everyone."
"Alright. How?"
"Well you're-"
"Let's skip me for a moment." Because John might be willing to believe the possibility, but first he wanted more proof that Rodney wasn't the one who was nuts.
"Caldwell's been taking off early to go spend time with his son."
Something like ice went through John's veins. "I didn't know Caldwell had a son."
"He doesn't. Yet, at least. Except he does. He's two years old and sick with something that's been keeping the Colonel up at night. And let's talk about Radek who's been playing with my new math and having a transcendental epiphany over it. He understands it, except I think he's getting too distracted to work on it. Or then there's Ronon, who's becoming quite an accomplished composer. A bit of something between Tchaikovsky and Brahms, which I wouldn't have considered, but he pulls it off fairly well. And in sickbay there are three crewmen because the doctor thought it was a breakout of synesthesia. Turns out they're just seeing different parts of the electromagnetic spectrum than the rest of us. But what really takes the sickbay cake is Teyla and Airman Langdon."
"Teyla's in sickbay? When did that happen?"
"Yesterday, apparently. She said that it's been bothering her for a couple of days, and yesterday afternoon it was bad enough to make her find the doctor. She is hearing hyperspace. John, she is literally hearing hyperspace. I mean, it's fascinating -"
"Rodney."
"No, seriously. She's okay, go talk to her yourself. But it turns out she's not just hearing hyperspace, she's hearing the energy that's emitted by anything that has mass and speed. Which right now is everything because we're hurtling through space."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"If the cube is affecting everybody, what's it doing to you?"
"Well I don't - I haven't actually noticed anything... odd. Aside from all of you, of course. Unfortunately, that might not mean anything seeing as over the past day Zelenka has spent a week contemplating his naval. I don't think time has any meaning for any of us anymore." Something must have occurred to Rodney because he stopped and stared into thin air. "Actually, that's interesting."
"Mind thinking out loud for the rest of the class?" John asked when Rodney stayed quiet.
"Well, if time isn't having any meaning for us, why would space? Oh, crap. Oh, that wouldn't be good. Come on, we have to get to the bridge."
John got up and followed quickly, because Rodney was already half way down the hall before the door closed behind them. When they hit the last set of doors Rodney pushed through, beelining towards the main strategy station. John slammed to a halt.
"Where the hell is everybody?" John asked. There was nobody on the bridge. Not a good sign at all.
"Well gee, maybe now you'll listen to me," Rodney said snottily, focused on typing something into one of the terminals.
"I was listening to you before but that still doesn't tell me why the bridge is empty!"
Rodney stopped and spun in his chair. "Why weren't you on the bridge?"
He couldn't believe the question. "Because I was sleeping, McKay. Since you woke me up, I really didn't think you needed that explained out loud."
"At two in the afternoon?" Rodney's voice was level, serious. John blinked.
"What?"
"Check your watch. It's two o'clock. P. M. Well, two-fifteen, by now."
His watch read 14:18.
"Rodney, what the hell-"
"Shit," Rodney breathed, barely audible. John moved to look over his shoulder, but nothing he saw on the screen made sense to him. "That just can't be right."
"What is it?" Rodney didn't answer. John shoved at his shoulder and ground out, "McKay, what is it?"
"The cube was stationary ever since we encountered it."
"Well of course it was."
"No, I mean it hadn't moved in space since we got there. I think it might have had zero movement in relation to the space around it. Everything's moving. We're moving, even if it doesn't look like it. We might look like we're holding a static position in relation to everything else, but in reality," and oh, the irony in using that word, "we're still moving due to forces we don't recognize as acting upon us. It's like earth moving through space on a macro scale. The planet isn't just circling the sun, it's part of a huge galactic system. If the Earth stopped circling the sun, it would still be moving in relation to the rest of the universe, because the universe is always moving."
John had always liked to hang around with the smart people but he'd never been prepared for this. "I don't get it."
"That thing in the hanger bay is warping time and you're probably proof that it's warping space-time. And given some of these readings - not that I can trust them - it's probably warping space as well. I mean, relational movement is completely subjective so I can't tell you the intensity of the effect, but - look, we think we're moving through hyperspace, but we might not be because that cube might not be moving. In relation to anything. It might still be in the same space it had been before we started moving and so are we. Either that or the Daedalus is becoming infinitely long as we move closer towards Atlantis and the cube stays where it was."
"Well, given everything else, that might actually be a possibility." John felt bad after saying it; Rodney collapsed into himself and didn't look so hot. "Can we get rid of it? Toss it out the bay doors?"
"Obviously you haven't been in the jumper bay recently."
A chill raced up John's back. "No, why?"
"It's a little bit bigger than it was before." Rodney let out a long and noisy breath. John didn't say anything, just in case Rod- "'It sings at night.'"
"Uh... what?"
"When I was visiting Teyla, when she was trying to describe what she was hearing, Langdon said 'it sings at night'. I didn't pay much attention because he was rambling at that point, but a couple of days ago I was mad because the sensors in the bay weren't giving me the answers I wanted and Makhanya said maybe I should ask the cube. I thought he was just being a jackass."
John connected the dots in Rodney's fashion to figure out what he was saying. "Oh, come on. You really think this thing could be alive?"
Rodney shrugged, not looking convinced himself. "Or sentient. I mean, anything's possible, right?"
"Especially at this point," John said, feeling irritation with Rodney well up. "Rodney, if this thing is affecting people, changing their reality, why do you think it's not affecting you right now? How do you know that if you go in there and that thing is alive that it's not because you made it that way?"
"That's a little Michael Crichton-ish, don't you think?"
"I think I need to know if you're thinking clearly. I mean it, Rodney."
John watched Rodney rub his eyes with the heels of his hands.
"Did you realize anything was wacky before I told you? Anything at all?"
John had to admit he hadn't. Everything had just been day-to-day transit operations.
"And do you admit that at least something strange is going on? Can't we just go with this for a little while longer?" Rodney looked tired, wrung out.
"You can't prove it, can you," John said, which wasn't really fair when Rodney apparently was the only person seeing things even a little more clearly. He sighed. "Yeah, okay. Let's go. But I'm taking us out of hyperspace first."
.
John remained back from the cube, close to the doors. Whether from a desire to keep other people out of the bay while Rodney tried out his theory or because he was worried proximity would affect him, Rodney didn't know. Though if it was proximity he would have to yell at Sheppard for being an idiot since, hello, distance hadn't been an issue so far.
He moved in close to the cube, wondering how to go about figuring out if the damned thing really was alive or aware or just a big joke on everybody aboard the Daedalus and Apollo.
Up close the surface had smoothed out to a flat, unblemished surface, and he wondered if it had happened while the cube was growing without anyone noticing or if it had happened earlier. He skimmed the wall with his palm, feeling hardness but nothing else. No heat, no cold, no give.
So if you're there, how to I talk to you?
It felt like an invasion until it felt like a homecoming.
He could feel them, feel/taste/hear every single many/one and it/they got distracted by taste, tried to make him make them understand but he couldn't. They didn't seem to have much in common at all, only the vaguest of concepts picked up from drifting and moving in and out of spaces-with-thought. Because they existed/didn't exist, had presence without substance and wait-
Rodney went back to that, wanted to know more, wanted it explained and they tried but they couldn't because they didn't understand cube or bigger or shape. He understood their lost and confusion, so he started there, started trying to build an exchange of concept-words. They started to flood him with light and dark and millions of colors in patterns that hurt his head until they stopped because he wasn't interacting anymore.
He felt adrift and confused, because they wanted to know color. He thought green and red and blue and they didn't understand. He thought light and color and then light, pure bright light. He received a weird strobe effect in return; long, long pauses of darkness which gave way at random intervals to bursts of light. Rodney thought about it, and the longer he did the more voices joined in, until there was a cacophony of light flickering into a formless cloud.
And suddenly he thought he understood.
“Hey!”
Rodney heard and he lost his balance, toppling over. He was caught before he hit the ground, by Ronon.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. He closed his eyes, trying to regain some equilibrium and failing spectacularly. He could still hear/see the cube's inquiry/alone/pleased and it was making his eyes blur as it stretched across space.
“I called him,” John was talking and he tried concentrating on physical sensations. “I thought backup might be useful. Teyla's outside. She tried coming in but said it was too loud in here”
Rodney tried to focus his frustration, to make it understand that he couldn't function while the cube was doing this, but he didn't know if the cube understood frustration yet. “You waited here all this time for me?”
“All what time? It's only been twenty minutes or so.”
“Twenty... oh that is so fucking typical! Twenty fucking minutes.”
“Well how much time do you think passed?”
“At least a couple of days.” Rodney watched almost transfixed as a curl of worry/alarm spiked out of John, heading towards him but darting away at the last moment into Ronon. “It's not what you're thinking,” he said, rubbing feeling back into his face. “It's the... My brain patterns were changed on a... they were changed. They're different. I'm different. It's why I wasn't affected beyond the initial time loss we all experienced.”
“Right,” John said, not at all convinced. “Rodney, do you know what the hell is going on?”
Rodney gathered his scattered thoughts and finally nodded. He grabbed Ronon's arm and pulled lightly, asking for help up. He was completely wiped out. “Yeah. I think I got through to it. But we need to get a meeting together. Come on.”
.
"It's alive," Rodney said, slouched over the edge of the conference table trying to keep himself propped up with his folded arms. He was so obviously exhausted that John wanted to drag him to his room and lock him in until he'd slept for a week. "Kind of."
They'd gathered as many of the ship's top people together as they could find (or distract), so Rodney had an audience of about 30 people, plus the feed to the Apollo. Teyla had decided to show up too, despite looking very green around the gills. Ellis had beamed over for the meeting and was sitting next to her.
"It's a... colony, if you will. A colony of creatures which are nothing more than points in space."
"Doctor, what you're saying defies the laws of physics," spoke up one of the engineers stationed to the ship. John hadn't seen him before.
"Right, because nothing like that's been happening recently," Rodney retorted, but it lacked bite. "Listen, it's very important that everybody here understands this: it's not - they're not malicious. They've been out here a long time, and I got the impression they'd never come across anything like us before. It was just curious and I honestly don't think it understands that it's messing with our perception of reality. Or reality itself for that matter. The area where we found the cube is literally a place where all the dimensions are empty, I think. Maybe a null space-time. They got lost. Didn't know which way to go."
Caldwell rubbed hard at his temple; John wondered if he was trying to work out a tension headache and commiserated. "Doctor, I realize that most of us won't understand this when the day is finished, but can you at least try to elaborate?"
"On what?" Rodney looked just as lost as the rest of them. And where was Zelenka?
"On-" Caldwell paused and laughed in disbelief. "Points in space violate laws of physics. Why, how, what?"
John watched Rodney deflate even more and wondered how bad this was going to be. "Sir, a point in space is only supposed to be a location. A cube has three dimensions," John mimed out the shape, "a square is two, a line is one. A point doesn't have any."
"A singularity," Caldwell asked and John looked to Rodney because, well, yeah, that's how he'd describe it, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the case here. What with the ship still existing and all.
"In the case of gravity, yes," Rodney said. "What we have here is obviously different. To have enough points in space to see with a microscope is..."
"Impossible," some one said.
"Impossible. To have enough for us to see, let alone be the size of that cube... I don't know what to tell you. And it's alive. To be honest, I'm not even sure it's actually in our... plane of existence; dimension; universe." Rodney broke off, frustration oozing from him. "God, I hate how that sounds, because it's not accurate but I don't think words really exist yet to describe it."
Dr. Michael Levine spoke up. "Doctor McKay, this cube has to have mass. It has dimension. We can see that, which means it's not just points in space!"
"And what if-"
Levine cut Rodney off. "I can take a tape measure-"
"And I would be happy to debate you after I've had about 56 hours of sleep! Let's just take it as a given that our professors didn't actually know everything about the universe, okay? I would love for the universe and its infinite dimensions to be that simple but I'm pretty sure our careers have proven otherwise, wouldn't you say?" Rodney rolled his neck a couple of times and cracked his back.
"This thing, this cube. The reason I'm not sure it's entirely in our dimension is because it doesn't adhere to any form of reality we recognize. It seems to exist in whatever time it wants to, whatever space it wants to. We've been directing it in space-time, and as far as we've learned from the Asgaard and the Ancients our... universe... just doesn't work like that."
Ellis, quiet up to this point, finally spoke. "So what do we do? Can we destroy the cube?"
"God, no! We're you listening? It's not doing this on purpose!"
Ellis looked Rodney squarely in the eyes. "It was just a question, Doctor. It might not be acting out of aggression, but it's still affecting us in a negative way."
Rodney shook his head wildly. "It didn't understand. Don't you get that? Our way of existence was so foreign to it that it literally did not understand what it was doing to us. Much as I'm sure we don't understand it. It didn't even have a concept for space-time or any dozens of concepts we take for granted. I tried to get that across, and I'm pretty sure it worked. The effects seem to be subsiding pretty rapidly."
"Doctor McKay, if this thing is warping our perceptions, then how do you know what you're saying is accurate?"
Despite the source, John thought it a valid question. Rodney seemed to sober and focus for a moment.
"Colonels, I think I'm the only person not affected at this point. Can you say the same for yourselves?" John had been expecting the question, and was the only person in the room who could still look at Rodney. He watched, lightly amused but mostly alarmed, as the rest of the people shifted uncomfortably or averted their eyes. Everybody had been experiencing something because of this thing. Dear God, he had to get out of Rodney why he hadn't been affected.
"What do you suggest, McKay?" Caldwell asked.
Rodney finally stopped and had to really think. "There's a nebula on our side of Pegasus," he said finally. "We could release it there."
John couldn't stop himself. "I'm sorry, is that supposed to be a good idea?"
"It's been lost out here. Completely adrift in the space between galaxies that it stopped itself in time and space until it got it's bearing again. It's alone with nothing out here. Has anybody been seriously, adversely affected? Really? You all may be unnerved by what accidentally happened, but if these creatures understand what happened and why and make an effort for it not to happen again, isn't it a little parsimonious to just leave them in the middle of nowhere?"
"How can we be sure that anything like this won't happen in the future, Doctor McKay? To anyone," Ellis asked, calmly.
John watched Rodney take a moment to think, either that or prepare himself for a collected rebuttal. Maybe both.
"Let's give it a test run. We're still well over a week from Pegasus. If anything weird happens, we can still drop the cube off and get the hell out. Otherwise let's... at least give it something interesting to work with in our dimension."
Ellis and Caldwell had a quiet, murmured conversation, words whispered quietly back and forth that left John on edge. He tried to kick Rodney's leg under the table, but missed - they just weren't close enough, and he wanted nothing more than to get Rodney's attention, give him some show of support. Teyla must have noticed, because he saw her leg dart out and touch Rodney's ankle, garnering his notice. She nodded at him and when Rodney looked over John quirked a smile. It wasn't much, but it must have been enough, because Rodney relaxed a bit, sinking into his seat to wait for the verdict with a calm John hadn't thought he'd had.
.
O light the candle, John
The daylight has almost gone
The birds have sung their last
The bells call all to mass
Skellig, Loreena McKennitt
"I don't know how much longer I can stay, Dad."
John's father was resting solidly against his pillows, fatigued and close to drifting. He looked at John with rheumy eyes, blinking with a bit of sadness, but mostly acknowledgment. "Your brother should be here soon."
"I'll stay here as long as I can. But I really do have to leave soon. Listen. I'm... I'm glad I was able to be here. I don't think I was supposed to get this chance, but I'm really glad I did."
"John, you should come by for lunch once I'm out. I'm sure you could arrange more time off from your posting for that at least."
John nodded, at the same time as he felt something inside him cracking. They still didn't know if this was real or not, but if it was he didn't want to abandon his father on a sour note. But it didn't stop him from hating that whatever he promised him would never happen. "I'll talk to my superiors. See if I can't get another week out of them. They may even owe me."
His father nodded, slowly and thoughtfully, and John wondered if his father didn't have some sort of clue. Patrick hadn't gotten to his station without being able to ferret out the truth, and he'd taught John and Dave the same tricks.
"At least keep in touch with us. Don't blame David for what happened between you and me. Please tell me you know better than that."
He had and he hadn't. Knowing and separating what he felt were two wildly different things. "Dave didn't entirely help things along, you know."
"John, please. He's your family. At least you've got the chance to reconnect with him."
"Dad. Dave and I will work things out. It might take a while, but I- I promise you that we'll work things out."
Between one breath and another things started feeling more distant, the hospital less solid. Colors started bleaching out and for the first time John felt like his time was limited. "Dad, I don't know if any of this is real or not, but I'm happy. I've got good friends and a job I wouldn't trade for anything. And trust me when I say that. I think you'd want to know that. I'm good. I'm really good. And barring the bad guys making it to Earth, Dave and I will be okay. I promise you."
His father opened his mouth, started saying something, but John didn't hear anything. Sound was gone and as soon as he realized that he realized he was touching the cube, feeling the unblemished surface under his hand, cool/warm to the touch. He grimaced as he worked through his thoughts.
Eventually he patted the cube and walked out of the hanger bay.
.
"Apollo, this is the Daedalus. We are preparing to drop off our passenger. We'll rendezvous with you at the outer edge of the nebula in an hour. Daedalus out." Caldwell ended his transmission and nodded to the airman manning navigation.
"Acknowledged, Daedalus. Be careful in there."
"Proceed," he murmured. "Doctor, are you ready?"
Rodney nodded. "I'm headed down to the bay now, Colonel."
The bay had about twenty people milling about, Sheppard included. Rodney walked over to him.
"Caldwell's bringing us into position," he said quietly, trying not to crowd Sheppard and not entirely succeeding. The cube was noticeably smaller than the last time Rodney had seen it.
Sheppard nodded, but didn't say anything for a few moments. "It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" he asked, canting his head towards the cube. "I think it knows it's time to leave. It's been getting smaller for the past hour. Half the people in here have been freaking out because the dimensional changes still aren't registering. I think the other half are planning on starting a religion."
Rodney nearly said, "Which side are you on?" but it came a bit too close to a truth he really didn't want to explore right then. So he clapped his hands loudly and moved away from John. "Okay, people, the bay needs to be cleared now unless you really do want to be exposed to vacuum or nebula gases."
When the last person had been ushered out, Sheppard contacted Caldwell from the comm unit in the hallway. "Colonel Caldwell, all personnel have evacuated the hanger bay. We're ready down here."
"Acknowledged. Opening the bay door."
Rodney stared at the closed doors, blocking him from seeing what was happening on the other side of them. "I'm gonna go watch this from the bridge. You coming?"
John shook his head slowly, like he was thinking about it. "Actually, I've got a better spot. Come on."
.
The mess hall had more than a few people who'd had the same idea, but it wasn't overcrowded or oppressive. And there was a spectacular view of the nebula beyond the shields.
"Oh, that's beautiful," Rodney whispered. Plasma filaments streaked and webbed in front of them in a dozen colors and when the ship passed through a thread the gases played along the lines of the shield. Rodney heard a vague commotion from the people at the far end of the room; the cube had come into their view.
"There it goes," Sheppard said quietly.
Rodney could feel it out there, feel it's curiosity and something that he guessed translated into happiness. It likes it here, he thought. The fast/slow movements of the gases as they coalesced and dispersed in chaotic motion caught him and he couldn't look away. The cube started moving in that direction.
"Hey," John whispered, jostling his arm. Rodney took a deep breath and focused on the cube, which started a slow turn. "Is it just me, or is it getting bigger?"
The cube pirouetted rapidly before coming to an abrupt halt which left Rodney feeling dizzy, and now that it was still he could see it growing. It was big. Much bigger than the Daedalus, now.
"Are we going to be in trouble here?"
"No," Rodney murmured. "It's just saying goodbye."
He felt John's sharp look, but thankfully nothing was said.
And then the cube disappeared into the nebula.
.
Rodney's unease increased the closer he got to the room he'd traced Zelenka to, and he began to worry that he'd let this lie for too long. Radek hadn't been seen since before they'd dropped off the cube, and while yes, it had only be a couple of hours - Rodney frowned, more like 6 or 7 when he thought about it - he still was left feeling like Radek was too alone.
It didn't help that every time he thought about Zelenka he felt adrift, disconnected from everything. Ironically, it felt too clear to believe it was really him feeling like that.
He opened the door without waiting for any sort of permission. It was technically a public room, not that he cared at the moment. The inside was barren, obviously a room waiting for storage materials. Zelenka, being the only object in the room, was easy to find and Rodney sat down on the floor across from him.
Rodney looked over his haggard face, deep lines which made the man look smaller and more fragile than he was. He really didn't know what to say at the moment. Saying nothing was always the easier choice.
"You should probably report to the infirmary," he eventually said, after no acknowledgment from Radek. He got nothing for his effort, and finally settled against the opposite wall to wait it out.
Time passed, and Rodney was so tired. He may have fallen asleep, or dozed, or maybe just drifted in a fugue, but after a lengthy wait Zelenka started talking.
"It was like I was connected to the universe. I could feel everything. It was not like when you nearly ascended. That was... understanding the universe, but this was like... I was part of it. And now it's gone. Fading to a bleached canvas. If I am very lucky I will end up remembering nothing. But somehow I think I will not be that lucky."
Radek sounded defeated and... hopeless. Like he'd done the one great thing in life and now he didn't know how to live the rest of his years. It hurt Rodney, hearing him like that.
"You're wrong, you know," he said finally.
"Wrong about what, Rodney?"
"I didn't 'nearly ascend' two years ago."
"What are you talking about?"
"I did ascend two years ago." Rodney looked away. It was bad enough he was finally confessing this, he didn't want to have to try and look someone in the eye while he did it. "It happened so fast that I wasn't surprised when none of the machines hooked up to me caught it. From our perspective it was so quick, so infinitesimal that it didn't happen. But it did and I remember just enough to know that on the other side it was a lot longer than it was here."
"Rodney..." Radek sounded broken.
"And I will always be grateful that Carson was able to bring me back. Always."
"How can you say that? It's nearly blasphemous."
Rodney looked up and was startled to see Radek crying, or at least in silent tears. Then again, he was in the same boat and he swiped at the corner of his eye with his thumb. "Because I don't want the secrets of the universe handed to me like I'm a kid in Sunday school! It's too easy. Everything I did in that pre-ascension phase was me. My learning curve may have been artificially accelerated, but every single thing I did was mine. Do you really think you'll know everything if you ascend? Because I don't. But I think you'll know just enough that you'll forget you don't know everything and stop trying to figure things out."
Radek's expression had gradually changed as Rodney ranted, and now he was looking at Rodney like he had a second head or a third arm or something else completely inexplicable. They sat breathing together with the quiet hum of the engines breaking the dead silence.
Eventually Rodney heard quiet words. "You, my friend, I think are a far better man than I."
Rodney shook his head, violently disagreeing. "You got caught up in the shiny glitter, Radek. You did a hell of a lot better than I did when it happened to me."
"Yes, well. There was no solar system nearby."
Rodney nearly choked trying to swallow the involuntary laugh Radek's arid statement caused. But then he couldn't stop smiling, because it was the first time - the first time ever - Radek had joked about Arcturus. It was always Sheppard who did the joking, who used caustic barbs and wit to chip away at the hard feelings the whole mess had caused. Pretty successfully, too, for the most part.
But he and Radek... they'd hashed out a détente and continued on with both their working relationship and their friendship, but Radek had never forgotten the gravity of Rodney's actions, never belittled the seriousness of what he had said.
It kind of made Rodney think he was completely forgiven now.
"So listen, are you going to be okay now? Because if you're aren't I should really know in advance because I'll have to start looking for your replacement and we'll have to make sure we have a padded room ready for you at what I'm sure will be a very nice institution located somewhere in the Swiss Alps, catering to physicists who've been driven insane by their own work. And-"
"I'll be fine, Rodney."
And Rodney heard the sardonic note, the reassurance of future years resonating backwards to right now saying everything was going to be just fine with Radek Zelenka, even if the worst happened. It made him smile, and for just that moment he followed those happy notes as they spun out of his grasp and wafted into the stars.
.
Atlantis had been declared a festive zone to celebrate the safe return of the Daedalus, the Apollo, and the onset of Christmas/New Years. John had found out at lunch that the general date also coincided with the Satedan Celebration of Bells, so Ronon was planning on being slightly more active a participant this year than in years past.
"Festival only happens every three years," he'd said, decimating his salisbury steak. "Figured I'd ask McKay and Lieutenant Speer to help out."
John couldn't think of what Rodney and Lieutenant Speer had in common. "McKay? Why McKay?"
"It's a music festival."
"So why McKay and not me?" he asked. He played the guitar decently, at least.
Ronon stopped focusing on his food and turned a look of such absolute disbelief on John that he could fee the tips of his ears turning hot on principal. "Seriously?" John didn't think Ronon was answering his question, or at least not directly. "McKay? Piano lessons? Childhood trauma?"
John shook his head, expecting Ronon to elaborate but Ronon didn't cooperate.
"Listen, no offense, but I've heard you play. Just... do yourself a favor and don't look surprised." Ronon got up and went to buss his tray.
"Surprised when?" John called after him but Ronon just waved him off.
.
"You didn't tell me you played the piano," John said, stepping through the door as soon as Rodney called him in. Rodney looked askance at him, pausing in lighting a candle that was sitting on his nightstand.
"I didn't?" he asked, sounding honestly confused.
"No, you didn't," John replied, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. Rodney lit his candle and another besides.
"Sure I did. Didn't I?"
"No, you didn't, because if you had I would have remembered and wouldn't have had Ronon looking at me like I'm the worst excuse for a human he's ever met."
"Oh. Oh, well... whoops? Sorry."
"Seriously, what's with the candles?" John asked, after Rodney lit the sixth one. The room had started out dark, illuminated by the moon but there was enough of a glow for John to have noticed the others, sitting as unlit and cold lumps of wax on the desk and a couple of shelves.
Rodney turned and looked at him a bit incredulously. "It's Christmas," he said, thinking for a moment that it would be apparent. Then he sighed and lit another candle, taking more care than might have been necessary.
"It's this thing mom used to do when we were kids. Jeannie and I both picked it up from her. Dad was only so-so on the whole thing, but he always ended up liking the look of the house when she was finished, and we always had good memories of those nights. We'd all light candles on Christmas Eve, and stay up talking or playing games until midnight." Another candle. "I suppose it's a habit that stuck," he finished, vaguely embarrassed.
"Sounds like good memories." Rodney watched John pick up a candle and touch the wick to one of the larger flames. After a few minutes the candles started dwindling and John stilled unnaturally. "So... this thing with you and me..."
Rodney froze; he kept his gaze firmly on the candle he was trying to light.
"Yeah?"
"How much of it was us and how much of it was the cube?"
Rodney looked over, saw John motionless against the flicking of the candle flames, and he didn't think John was breathing, either. For a moment's flash he could see the possibilities swirling out in front of him, hear John telling him that he'd never considered Rodney before this, hear another one say that it was all the cube, that no matter what Rodney might think, there wasn't anything really there. He could see John moving towards him, past him, regret on his face because what they wanted couldn't be a consideration, he could see the apology on his face as he walked out the door, the anger, the distaste, the fear, the desire. Sometimes John stayed. The sights and sounds and feelings stretched and ebbed around him until he wanted to feel dizzy.
"How much do you think it was?" Rodney cringed at such a clichéd response; he might have known the cube hadn't affected him per se, but he just couldn't put himself out there, not with this, not twice. And he really didn't know if the cube had been causing John to act like that. He hadn't thought so at the time, but in hindsight it wasn't much comfort.
John finished lighting his candle and Rodney watched him stare at it for a while, breathless and almost seeing the space between them stretched thin with distance.
Finally John spoke. "I think this has been brewing between us for a while now."
Rodney couldn't deny it. John picked up his candle and held it out for Rodney to take.
"Hey, McKay. Merry Christmas." Rodney took the candle, quickly setting it down as John leaned in and kissed him.
"You're early," he said. "Christmas isn't for another two hours."
John's lips held a bit of a smirk. "Practice for New Year's."
"Yeah, okay." and Rodney kissed him, feeling the permutations and probabilities of the future spin away from him as John responded and tripped them both to the bed.
The End.