SGA fic: Entangled Particles 2/4 (NC-17)
Part 1/4
John’s leg was in such bad shape that they had to ship him back to the States. The doctors in San Antonio told him that he had a good chance of making a complete recovery, but that it would take time and a few more operations. John’s only thought was whether or not he could fly again. Other than that, he didn’t think much at all. The nurses were pretty and he was too doped up on painkillers to worry about anything else.
When the day nurse told John he had a visitor, it came as a complete surprise. The guys from McMurdo had sent a get-well-soon card, but John hadn’t expected anyone to come see him.
It was an even bigger surprise when the door opened and Rodney McKay came in brandishing an enormous bouquet of flowers in one hand and a strangely intense expression on his face. John hadn’t seen him in person since that first time, and now he didn’t quite know how to act.
Rodney threw the flowers on John’s bed, collapsed in a chair and went from silent straight into full-blown rant mode in under a second.
“You disappear off the face of the earth for two weeks, and when I finally get hold of someone at McMurdo they tell me you crashed! We were worried sick! Laura thought you had been eaten by a polar-bear, even though everyone knows that polar-bears live on the North Pole, and why the hell didn’t you write? ”
John watched Rodney talk, how Rodney’s large hands moved in sync with his mouth, how Rodney’s hair was a little dishevelled, and felt himself start to smile because he had never been so happy to see anyone in his life.
“You came to visit me,” he said.
Rodney stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at John. “Of course I came to visit! What did you expect? One of the few friends I have is in the hospital and you thought I wouldn’t come?”
John just smiled. He thought that he probably looked pretty goofy. Rodney stared at him a little longer before he smiled back. “Good drugs?” he asked.
“Really good drugs,” John said, and then they both began to laugh. They didn’t stop until the day nurse came back to see what the racket was all about.
“I don’t think I’ll be going back,” John said a little later, when Rodney had calmed down a bit.
“Thank god”, Rodney said. He had made himself at home in the chair beside John’s bed. “It’ll be much easier to keep in touch with you when you’re not living on some iceberg in the middle of nowhere. Have you thought about where you’ll be living?”
“I just decided it won’t be in Antarctica,” John said. “Beyond that, I have no idea.”
“Tell you what,” Rodney said, grabbing the pen from his breast pocket, and reaching over to scribble something in the margin of the newspaper on John’s bed stand. “This is my phone number. Call me as soon as you know when you’ll get out of here, okay? You can stay with me.”
John wondered if it was normal to offer someone you had only met twice a place to stay, but then again, ‘normal’ was not a word one could use to describe any aspect of Rodney McKay. “That would be great, thanks,” was all he said.
His life might just have been thrown upside down, but at least now he had a plan.
* * *
John arrived in Sacramento with a medical discharge, a duffle bag’s worth of belongings, and two titanium screws in his leg. He was still walking on crutches and the flight had been pure hell.
Rodney was supposed to pick him up at the airport, but was nowhere to be seen. John waited for a while, thought about calling, then decided against it, because how pathetic did that seem?
So, he slung the duffle over his shoulder, cursed himself for not getting a backpack instead, and hobbled to the terminal to find a place to sit down. He needed to get off his leg for a moment and call a cab.
He managed the first two before a familiar figure came rushing towards him. It wasn’t Rodney, but it was the next best thing; Laura Cadman.
“Hi! Sorry to keep you waiting!” she panted when she reached the bench John had claimed as his own.
“No problem,” John said, and then, “Where’s Rodney?” It just slipped out, and probably didn’t sound all that cool, but the horrible thought, ‘he changed his mind; he doesn’t want to see me’ kept trying to rear its ugly head.
“It’s my fault, I’m really sorry,” Laura said. “It’s my job to make sure he’s in the right place at the right time.” She exhaled loudly and brushed her hair away from her face. “Rodney’s working on a new novel and he’s not… well, he’s not exactly living in the world of normal people right now.”
“I don’t think he ever is,” John said, smiling because it was such a relief to see a familiar face, even if it wasn’t Rodney.
“That’s true”, Laura replied with a grin. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! We were so worried when we heard about the crash! Is it okay if I hug you? I know we only met the once, but Rodney’s been reading your e-mails out loud so it feels like I’ve known you forever.”
“Of course”, John said, and got to his feet so Laura could embrace him. He hadn’t known that Rodney had shared his e-mails, but the thought made a little blaze of pure joy flare up in his belly.
“Okay”, Laura said after she finally released him. “Let’s go and see if Rodney’s managed to get dressed yet. We’re all supposed to meet Carson for dinner, if you feel up to it.”
“That sounds great”, John said. He was tired and his leg hurt, but he was pretty sure he would rally after some rest and a couple of ibuprofen.
Laura grabbed his duffle and led him out of the terminal to her car. As she drove, John settled back in the passenger seat, listening to her chatting about everything and nothing, as the streets of Sacramento flashed by outside. New city, new people. So far, John felt pretty okay with it.
* * *
Rodney opened his door dressed only in boxer shorts and a faded t-shirt that read, I’m with genius. When he saw John and Laura outside, he blinked, looked at his wristwatch, and blinked again.
“Did you not listen to one word I said to you on the phone?” Laura asked, pushing her way past Rodney into the apartment.
“Huh?” Rodney said, scratching his belly. He stepped aside so John could enter. “But that was like ten minutes ago?”
“It was two hours ago,” Laura said as she put John’s duffle down on Rodney’s couch. Rodney gave the both of them a confused look and then closed the front door.
“I must have lost track of time,” he said, and then turned to John. “You look like hell. How was the trip?”
“Awful,” John said, leaning heavily on his crutches. His leg was killing him and he was beginning to re-evaluate the plans for dinner. That couch looked really comfy and he could quite happily sink down on it and not move for the rest of the day.
Rodney had a big studio apartment with high ceilings and large windows. There was an enormous flat-screen TV mounted on one wall and a number of framed diplomas on another. The layout of the place was light and airy, and would have looked really nice had it not been for the various piles of laundry and dirty dishes spread out over every available surface.
Laura looked around in disgust. “All right, let’s get this show on the road. You…” she pointed to Rodney, “…go shower and get dressed, Carson will be here in an hour and you smell. And you…” she pointed to John, “…sit down before you fall over. Don’t you have any medication you’re supposed to take?”
“I’m fine”, John protested as he collapsed onto the couch. Simultaneously, Rodney whined, “But I have a scene to finish!”
“No arguing! Rodney, you can finish your scene tomorrow, today you have a dinner reservation to keep and a guest to entertain. John, take your pills now so you can get some rest before we leave. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
Laura disappeared into the kitchen area and John turned to Rodney. “She’s a little bossy, don’t you think?”
“She’s a nightmare,” Rodney said, sniffing his own armpit curiously.
“Without me, you’d starve to death buried in your own filth!” came Laura’s voice from the kitchen.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, and Rodney had showered and was dressed in clean clothes. John’s painkillers had kicked in and he was feeling somewhat more human. He was making friends with Newton, who had come sauntering out of Rodney’s bedroom soon after they arrived to see what was going on.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there to pick you up," Rodney said as he plopped down on the couch next to John.
"It's okay," John said. He was scratching Newton's belly, and the cat was lying with all four feet in the air, purring contentedly. Rodney watched with something similar to jealousy.
"I meant to," Rodney said. "I had the alarm set and everything, and then Laura called to remind me, but it was going so well and I thought; if I stop now, I won't be able to pick it up again."
"I said it was okay," John repeated.
“Okay," Rodney echoed. "Okay, that's good. I don't want you to think I forgot about you or anything, I've, ah, I’ve been looking forward to you coming here since I was in San Antonio actually."
John looked up, saw Rodney's pitiful expression and smiled. "It's really okay. I understand."
"Good," Rodney said, relaxing a bit. "By the way, is it okay if you sleep here on the couch? It folds out to a pretty comfortable bed. I'd do it myself, but I have a bad back and I need my ergonomic mattress..."
"Yes, it's fine. Jesus, Rodney, stop trying to be a good host, because you really suck at it," John said smiling.
"I do, don't I?" Rodney agreed, and they both began to laugh. It suddenly struck John just how much he had missed this, had missed Rodney, and how good it was to finally be here. He continued to chuckle, long after Rodney had stopped, panting for breath.
When the bell rang, Laura rushed to open the door. Carson Beckett turned out to be more than an ‘okay’ guy. He had unruly dark hair, a thick Scottish brogue, and it was clear that he worshipped the ground on which Laura walked. John liked him immediately.
They went to an Italian place not far from Rodney's apartment building that had, according to Rodney, 'the best lasagne on the continent'. Despite John’s earlier reservations, dinner was great. John complained about his time in the hospital and told them how good it was to be out in the world again. Carson talked about his job, that had something to do with gene therapy, and Laura only had to confiscate Rodney's pen once, when he started to scribble on his napkin.
For dessert, they all had tiramisu which Rodney ate with relish whilst emitting soft orgasmic-sounding noises. By the time they arrived back home, John was exhausted. As he watched Rodney turning his closet upside down in the search of clean sheets and towels, he knew that coming to Sacramento had been the right choice. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
* * *
John stayed with Rodney for two weeks before he began to itch for a place of his own. He wasn't one to complain, but he needed a little privacy. Rodney would often wake him up in the middle of the night with problems like, ‘How much math is the average person able to understand?’, ‘What sounds better to you, this word or that?’, or John's favourite so far, ‘I have to kill someone and I can't decide who!’ John just rolled over and said, "Rodney, ask me in the morning. You know, when normal people are awake?"
So John found a small apartment, not too far away from Rodney's place. He bought a TV, a couch, and some basic kitchen appliances. Laura bought him a cactus as a house-warming gift. He thought about getting a dog, because he had always wanted one, but he never got around to it. A pet would mean that this was permanent; that he was here to stay. John had spent so much time in temporary housing on bases all over the world that the thought of spending the rest of his life in one place scared him a little.
He got rid of the crutches soon afterwards, but still had to see a physical therapist three times a week. The therapist, Carla, was a tiny curly haired woman and John was certain that she must have been a torturer in a past life. She was also something of a health-nut and kept trying to make him eat soybeans and tofu and drink bright green algae-shakes. Rodney took one look at the shake and stated that nothing that colour could possibly be meant for human consumption.
When John wasn't at Rodney's, or seeing Carla, he took up his habit of walking again. He had more or less accepted the idea that he wasn't a pilot anymore, but he still hadn't decided what exactly to do with himself. Sacramento wasn't a cheap place to live and he needed to find a job. He had some money saved which would be enough to pay for rent and food until his leg had healed, but after that he didn't have much of a plan.
Both Laura and Carson promised to keep an eye open for John if anything came up. Laura even made him sit down and make a list of things he wanted to do, things he could do if he didn't find anything else, and things he absolutely refused to do, and then rate them on a 1-10 scale. John fled when she took out the coloured markers. Rodney was too busy fretting over his book, and, like he said, “The last time I had to look for a job was in college, so what do I know about job hunting?
* * *
Carson proposed to Laura on Valentine’s Day, and the two of them took a week off to go on vacation. Laura made John promise to check in with Rodney every day to make sure he didn’t get so caught up in his writing that he forgot to eat or to feed Newton. She left all the contact information she could think of in case there was an emergency, and a long list of things Rodney was allergic to. John didn't pay much attention. After all, he figured one writer couldn’t be that hard to look after.
That optimism lasted until the third day when he found lying Rodney on the floor beside his desk. John didn't think anything was wrong at first; Rodney often wrote on one of his several laptops so he could work anywhere in the apartment - the floor was not the strangest place he had been spotted. However, John started to worry, when he realised that Rodney wasn't moving. He quickly dropped the DVD’s he had brought and hurried over to his friend.
“Rodney?”
Rodney looked up slowly. He had a dazed look on his face, but when he caught sight of John, he smiled and raised his hand in a floppy wave, “Hi.”
“Hi,” John said and waved back. “What are you doing on the floor? Is this some kind of method-writing thing? Embrace your inner dust-bunny?”
“I fell over,” Rodney said weakly.
"I can see that, "John answered and hunched down beside Rodney, checking his vitals. There was no fever, but Rodney was pale and his skin was kind of clammy. "How did you fall? Did you hit your head?"
"I stood up and then I fell over," Rodney said.
That was all John could get out of Rodney, and now he was really worried. He wondered if he should call an ambulance, but decided to call Laura first. Rodney would never forgive him if this was just some kind of strange writer-thing and John overreacted and brought EMT:s into the mix.
Laura answered on the fifth ring. She sounded happy and there were people talking in the background, like she was in a café or restaurant. John felt bad for disturbing her, but he had no idea what to do.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said.
“John? Oh my god, what did he do?”
“I’m not sure,” John said, keeping one eye on the woozy-looking Rodney. “I just came over, and he seems a bit… off. Like he hit his head or something.”
There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “Did he eat? Ask him if he’s eaten.”
“Right, hold on.” John knelt back down beside Rodney and shook him gently. “Rodney? Hey, buddy? Laura wants to know if you’ve eaten.”
“Sure, yeah, I’ve eaten,” Rodney said, still with that dazed look, like he couldn’t quite focus on John. “I had breakfast.”
“It’s six o’clock in the evening,” John said, and then went back to the phone. “I don’t think he’s had anything to eat all day. He’s acting all weird, what’s wrong?”
“Oh.” Laura sounded relieved. “It’s just his hypoglycaemia acting up. He’s supposed to eat every four hours or so. There should be some sport drink in the fridge, give him that and make sure he has something to eat, and he’ll come around.”
John hung up feeling reassured. He helped Rodney up off the floor and into the kitchen area, and went to raid the fridge.
“That’s it,” he said twenty minutes later, when Rodney had drunk a bottle of Gatorade and eaten some leftover pasta John had found. “I’m camping out on your couch for the rest of the week. If Laura comes home and finds you dead through neglect, she’ll blame me.”
“There’s no need for that,” Rodney protested. He was looking much better and John was no longer afraid that he would pass out and go into a coma or something. "I was just too caught up in writing and forgot to set my alarm, I don't need a babysitter!"
"No, you just stood up and fell over," John said with a grin. It hadn't been very funny at the time, but now when Rodney was up and bitching again, John could start to see the funny side of the situation.
Rodney mumbled darkly around a mouthful of pasta, something about how he would never get anything done with John here, and how deadlines were horrible looming things meant to stifle his creativity.
"Come on, Rodney,” John said, not prepared to take no for an answer. “We'll have fun! It'll be like a sleep-over, we can stay up all night, watch science fiction, eat junk food, and braid each other's hair."
"Yes, because we never do that," Rodney responded with a scowl. "I mean, not so much with the hair-braiding, but the rest, and I have a novel to write!"
"I brought Doctor Who and Torchwood," John said and waited for Rodney's face to rearrange itself into an interested expression.
"Doctor Who?" Rodney's eyebrows flew up. "Hmm... well, maybe we can watch a couple of episodes..."
John stood up and patted his back. "Eat up, buddy. I'll start the DVD-player."
Part 3/4
Part 4/4