Fic: At Sea (SGA, PG-13) 1/1
Title: At Sea
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay and Sheppard, pre-slash
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit being made from this.
Summary: A tag for Trinity. Ergo, spoilers for Trinity.
Notes: Thanks to kageygirl for not only betaing, but for the title and dragging the ending out of me word by painful word. *g* Thanks to chopchica for a lovely beta as well.
Dark water surged against and edged away from the underpinnings of Atlantis, eddies curling back toward the open sea, tugging bits of dull seaweed and bright foam downwards, the in-out breath of the ocean. John leaned against the short rail of the pier, staring through the light spray, letting the constant shush and roar lull him into a soft blankness.
Some time later, a soft, tentative footstep, followed by the rustle of cloth and a short cough drew him back to reality. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to the water. Rodney McKay, unsure. John sighed and added that to the list of things he hadn't wanted to see today.
"I'm not angry, Rodney," he said quietly.
"You're the only one," Rodney muttered as he leaned next to John.
"Well, why do you think that is?" John snapped back, the words out of his mouth before he even processed them.
Rodney sighed. "So, a little angry."
John rubbed his face, pressing at the tired spots around his eyes and under his cheeks. They never seemed to go away, a new one tattooed under his skin with each crisis.
"Did you need something?" he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer, but knowing he couldn't afford not to.
The silence lasted so long that John turned away from the water to see if Rodney had actually left. But Rodney was still right beside him, staring at the stars, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
"Did you know that the explosion will have actually affected the entire galaxy? Incredibly, incredibly minutely, but still, enough that we'll be able to measure it." Rodney paused, and John could see the corner of his mouth draw upwards in an unhappy grin. "I always wanted to make my mark on the universe, but..."
John waited, but for once, Rodney seemed to have run out of things to say. He looked broken in a way that he hadn't earlier, like all the pieces of crazy had finally caught up to him. John knew how that felt.
"Colonel, I don't--"
"Just stop, Rodney, okay? It's fine."
Rodney snorted. "You have a very strange definition of 'fine'."
John smiled. He couldn't help it--and that was exactly why things weren't fine. He sighed, turned and slid down the rail until he was sitting on the cold metal decking. He waited until Rodney joined him, huffing in his annoyed way as he awkwardly arranged himself beside John.
"We're fine," John clarified quietly. "Cool, even."
He felt Rodney nod, the slight shake of his shoulders passing into John's through layers of gray polyester blend.
"Fine. Good," Rodney said. "So why do you sound like somebody threw your favorite toy plane in the trash?"
John tilted his head back as far as he could, looking up--up--up past the towering spires of Atlantis, trying to make out the stars against the glow of the city. It didn't seem like there were as many stars visible here as there were from Earth, but they all seemed brighter. Rodney would know if that were really true, or just a fanciful illusion.
"Do you know what my job is, Rodney?" Rodney started to say something, but John plowed on over him. "It's not just shooting things, or flying the jumpers, or turning on the fancy gadgets. Yeah, I do those, and they're important, but you know what the hard part is? The really important part? It's anticipating all the ways things can get fucked up, then making sure they don't-if I can."
He turned his head, still pressed against the rail. Rodney was watching him, eyes narrowed and slightly wary. Intent, and maybe a little concerned. John turned back to the stars.
"I anticipated, all right. Saw it coming like a summer blockbuster, with digital surround and everything. I didn't realize the special effects would be quite so big, though."
John shoved away from the rail, twisting so he was more-or-less facing Rodney. Rodney was still watching him, but now his jaw was clenched and his eyes were tighter, more defensive.
"Christ, Rodney. I knew--I knew!--you were in over your head, and you just wouldn't admit it to yourself!"
"Well, I guess I'm just an idiot, then," Rodney said through gritted teeth.
John blew out a breath, trying to get the words out, trying to keep them in, trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him.
"I knew you were in over your head," he said, the words barely audible through the tightness of his throat, "but you wanted it so badly. And I couldn't say no, Rodney."
He waited, but Rodney didn't say anything. Their breathing was loud, out of proportion to the slow slip and slide of the water beneath them. John swallowed and licked his lips, and tried again. "I have to be able to say no, Rodney."
Rodney was staring at him with wide eyes, all his previous defensiveness gone, just washed away like it'd never been there. John closed his eyes, but he could still see the way Rodney had grinned when he'd joked about the Nobel.
"What am I supposed to do with that, Colonel?" Rodney choked out, sounding a little angry and a lot lost. "I've apologized, I've promised to be more aware of my limits, but I can't change what happened. Believe me, I would if I could."
"It's not that, it's not you," John said. He wanted to shout the words, but he couldn't. "It's me."
He slouched back against the rail, swallowing all the stupid, worthless things he could say that still wouldn't explain why he'd fucked up so badly. Why he was afraid he'd do it again. Instead, he tipped his head back and looked at the stars shining beyond the city, listened to the water running below.
After a while, Rodney shifted closer, the heat of his shoulder burning into John's.
"I'm sure you can do it," Rodney said quietly. "If you really try."
John didn't know whether to laugh or to smack Rodney for that, for throwing his own words back in his face. But Rodney wasn't gloating, wasn't laughing, and finally the simple truth of it melted through. Maybe he hadn't been able to say no to Rodney at first, but he had at the end, and he'd be able to in the future.
John was just afraid of the cost.
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay and Sheppard, pre-slash
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit being made from this.
Summary: A tag for Trinity. Ergo, spoilers for Trinity.
Notes: Thanks to kageygirl for not only betaing, but for the title and dragging the ending out of me word by painful word. *g* Thanks to chopchica for a lovely beta as well.
Dark water surged against and edged away from the underpinnings of Atlantis, eddies curling back toward the open sea, tugging bits of dull seaweed and bright foam downwards, the in-out breath of the ocean. John leaned against the short rail of the pier, staring through the light spray, letting the constant shush and roar lull him into a soft blankness.
Some time later, a soft, tentative footstep, followed by the rustle of cloth and a short cough drew him back to reality. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to the water. Rodney McKay, unsure. John sighed and added that to the list of things he hadn't wanted to see today.
"I'm not angry, Rodney," he said quietly.
"You're the only one," Rodney muttered as he leaned next to John.
"Well, why do you think that is?" John snapped back, the words out of his mouth before he even processed them.
Rodney sighed. "So, a little angry."
John rubbed his face, pressing at the tired spots around his eyes and under his cheeks. They never seemed to go away, a new one tattooed under his skin with each crisis.
"Did you need something?" he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer, but knowing he couldn't afford not to.
The silence lasted so long that John turned away from the water to see if Rodney had actually left. But Rodney was still right beside him, staring at the stars, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
"Did you know that the explosion will have actually affected the entire galaxy? Incredibly, incredibly minutely, but still, enough that we'll be able to measure it." Rodney paused, and John could see the corner of his mouth draw upwards in an unhappy grin. "I always wanted to make my mark on the universe, but..."
John waited, but for once, Rodney seemed to have run out of things to say. He looked broken in a way that he hadn't earlier, like all the pieces of crazy had finally caught up to him. John knew how that felt.
"Colonel, I don't--"
"Just stop, Rodney, okay? It's fine."
Rodney snorted. "You have a very strange definition of 'fine'."
John smiled. He couldn't help it--and that was exactly why things weren't fine. He sighed, turned and slid down the rail until he was sitting on the cold metal decking. He waited until Rodney joined him, huffing in his annoyed way as he awkwardly arranged himself beside John.
"We're fine," John clarified quietly. "Cool, even."
He felt Rodney nod, the slight shake of his shoulders passing into John's through layers of gray polyester blend.
"Fine. Good," Rodney said. "So why do you sound like somebody threw your favorite toy plane in the trash?"
John tilted his head back as far as he could, looking up--up--up past the towering spires of Atlantis, trying to make out the stars against the glow of the city. It didn't seem like there were as many stars visible here as there were from Earth, but they all seemed brighter. Rodney would know if that were really true, or just a fanciful illusion.
"Do you know what my job is, Rodney?" Rodney started to say something, but John plowed on over him. "It's not just shooting things, or flying the jumpers, or turning on the fancy gadgets. Yeah, I do those, and they're important, but you know what the hard part is? The really important part? It's anticipating all the ways things can get fucked up, then making sure they don't-if I can."
He turned his head, still pressed against the rail. Rodney was watching him, eyes narrowed and slightly wary. Intent, and maybe a little concerned. John turned back to the stars.
"I anticipated, all right. Saw it coming like a summer blockbuster, with digital surround and everything. I didn't realize the special effects would be quite so big, though."
John shoved away from the rail, twisting so he was more-or-less facing Rodney. Rodney was still watching him, but now his jaw was clenched and his eyes were tighter, more defensive.
"Christ, Rodney. I knew--I knew!--you were in over your head, and you just wouldn't admit it to yourself!"
"Well, I guess I'm just an idiot, then," Rodney said through gritted teeth.
John blew out a breath, trying to get the words out, trying to keep them in, trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him.
"I knew you were in over your head," he said, the words barely audible through the tightness of his throat, "but you wanted it so badly. And I couldn't say no, Rodney."
He waited, but Rodney didn't say anything. Their breathing was loud, out of proportion to the slow slip and slide of the water beneath them. John swallowed and licked his lips, and tried again. "I have to be able to say no, Rodney."
Rodney was staring at him with wide eyes, all his previous defensiveness gone, just washed away like it'd never been there. John closed his eyes, but he could still see the way Rodney had grinned when he'd joked about the Nobel.
"What am I supposed to do with that, Colonel?" Rodney choked out, sounding a little angry and a lot lost. "I've apologized, I've promised to be more aware of my limits, but I can't change what happened. Believe me, I would if I could."
"It's not that, it's not you," John said. He wanted to shout the words, but he couldn't. "It's me."
He slouched back against the rail, swallowing all the stupid, worthless things he could say that still wouldn't explain why he'd fucked up so badly. Why he was afraid he'd do it again. Instead, he tipped his head back and looked at the stars shining beyond the city, listened to the water running below.
After a while, Rodney shifted closer, the heat of his shoulder burning into John's.
"I'm sure you can do it," Rodney said quietly. "If you really try."
John didn't know whether to laugh or to smack Rodney for that, for throwing his own words back in his face. But Rodney wasn't gloating, wasn't laughing, and finally the simple truth of it melted through. Maybe he hadn't been able to say no to Rodney at first, but he had at the end, and he'd be able to in the future.
John was just afraid of the cost.