Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and Stargate SG-1 are not owned by me and never will be. I'm just playing in this sandbox of geniuses for the sheer pleasure of it.
Author's Notes: I think this might be the end. It seems like as good a place as any to finish what has been six (of writing) and fourteen (of watching) years in a truly wonderful fandom. Judging by how much sweat and blood went into writing just this one story, I think it's time to walk away. It's been great fun, though. But onto other things, eh?
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"Darest thou now O Soul, Walk out with me toward the unknown region, Where neither ground is for feet Nor any path to follow." (Walt Whitman)
Every few months Sam calls him. They chat for an hour or two, mostly about nothing of any importance. However, if his thirty-five year old self could have seen him now he'd be giddy with the delight of even a few hours. A long time ago he had never thought the day would come when he and Samantha Carter could actually have a conversation for the sheer pleasure of it.
Of all the things that have changed now, it seems to be but a trivial difference. Rodney knows that once upon a time Elizabeth Weir believed that Atlantis would always be her home and that returning to Earth would mean the failure of all things. But Elizabeth has been gone now more years than Rodney wants to count, and even if once upon a time he wanted to believe the same thing he was never optimistic enough to actually think it. He had resigned himself long before the announcement came that one day he would pack up his world (for a second time) and return to a planet that had, perhaps, once given birth to him, but had long since stopped giving him anything else he needed.
That the recall had come so soon was the only surprise. With Baal and the Replicators and the Ori defeated and gone and done with forever and ever, no one could have even dared to hope the possibility that the Wraith would fall hard on the heels of the last victory the Milky Way would hopefully ever have to claim. None of them had looked the gift horse in the mouth, no matter what it meant for the future. It was still the end of a bloody war five years and a ten thousand in the making and they were all just immensely grateful that they could add "cleaned up another Ancient mess" to their CVs. Though hopefully it would be for the last time.
But suddenly faced with another galaxy free of their evil overlords (or predators – the two were mutually interchangeable as far as Rodney was concerned), the IOA had done what it did best. They had used the victory as a perfect excuse to save themselves billions of dollars a year. The SGC program had already been scaled back to virtually nothing (twice before, actually, but somehow it had never seemed to stick what with the pesky evil enemy still running merrily around). It only made sense to do the same in a galaxy safe from the Wraith and a city that was still standing only by one man's brilliance and another's sheer bloody determination.
The blow had hit some harder than others. Even if Rodney was not surprised by it, the shock that had reverberated throughout the city was louder than it had been during the last recall. The sheer number of people would account for most of that, but Rodney knows beyond a doubt that the real reason is that all of them thought or at least hoped that Atlantis would be their reward. A city they had fought and died for and once again it was being taken away, never to be returned. The blow had hit John the hardest. And Rodney understands that that was partly because John could never return to the life on Earth he'd had before and mostly because Atlantis was the military commander's home in a way nowhere else in the universe could ever be. Sometimes he allows himself to feel sorry for the city too, because now she is bereft of her one true son.
Rodney, at least, still makes a yearly trip back through the Gate for a few weeks. There's a small civilian contingent that lives there year round with a military escort and with a ZPM on either end they're closer to home then the scientists at McMurdo, an irony that is not lost on anyone. They still discover the odd new thing, and Rodney still feels that rush of excitement in the pit of his stomach when the files come across his desk. He can also never help that flicker of resentment that they are there and he is here. Still, he is grateful for the trips, even though he knows they allow them because money alone cannot make up for all the times he's saved the universe. The higher ups are still trying to figure out how to thank Carter and Mitchell and Jackson, and O'Neill's still smiling over the fact that all he wanted was permanent retirement.
Carter works at Area 51 now, though her rank as full-bird Colonel is as utterly useless among the labs of geeky scientists and half-broken technology as her husband's two stars are to his fishing. Rodney still has to smirk whenever Sam's conversations turn to how many days in the previous month Jack has spent not catching fish. He knows she is happier than she has ever been, because he can hear it in her voice every time she smiles over the phone. And in all honesty, he is happy for her. He never thought that would happen either.
Jackson is usually to be found in some country or another where no one speaks English and the weather is too hot. Rodney admits that the only information he gets about Daniel comes from Sam, but he thinks that's alright. It's not like he and the archaeologist ever got along. But he does know that Daniel is making almost as many advances in his own field as Rodney is in his; helped along by a world seemingly more able to accept the impossible. Rodney wonders when, exactly, that change happened, or if one too many badly explained spaceships in the sky finally tipped the previously oblivious human race off to the fact that the universe was perhaps bigger than they had originally thought. Daniel's certainly less a crack-pot these days then he used to be, which Rodney supposes he deserves.
He's not sure exactly what Mitchell is supposed to be doing. He does know that he and John and their eagles are still causing havoc wherever they go; and they go a lot of places, hyperspace engines being almost as good as Stargates. Whenever John returns to Earth he comes to visit Rodney; usually arriving at all hours by transport beam and leaving at some other ridiculous time, back to travelling the galaxy the only way he still can. Rodney is not in the least surprised by this. Sheppard never could sit still and there is no helicopter on Earth that could possibly be better than the command of an F-303. Rodney half wonders sometimes if he shouldn't have taken the offer of engineer on John's new wings. But he knows this comes from a desire, almost a need, to have the team in some form back together. He keeps repeating to himself that Sheppard is a trouble magnet until the urge, mostly, goes away. But he has things to keep him on Earth now, and that's reason enough to remain grounded. And he knows that John understands that sometimes, just sometimes, family is more important than anything else.
He is by no means unhappy where he is. There are days he also wonders if Area 51 wouldn't be better, but he's done that route before and he knows that Nevada is not big enough for both him and Sam, no matter how civil their phone conversations are. And he acknowledges that even though it will never be wormhole travel or sailing across the galaxies, running his own lab is still ten kinds of great even on the bad days. And sometimes it still feels like he's back in Atlantis until he realizes he can't smell the sea air.
Things have not changed that much, except that with each passing year the IOA allows them to go public with a little bit more; each year the information a little bit bigger. Rodney knows that he only has to be patient because soon enough either them or Area 51 or the Russians or the Chinese are going to make the next great discovery using something almost entirely Earth constructed and the world is going to change. He knows that there is every possibility that he will live to see mankind reach the stars and not just the Moon and without any help from the US military. These days he has the patience and the wonder to stand back and watch it all unfold. It's what they've ultimately always been working towards and even if they can't have Atlantis there are still plenty of other things to look forward to.
First and foremost being, of course, the fact that Rodney has finally, after decades of waiting, been able to blow every rival he's ever had (well, except Sam) out of the water. He likes to think he's too old for feelings of vindication and self-satisfaction, but sometimes he can't help feeling just a bit smug that he really is better than all the rest. And if he, perhaps, personally phoned Malcolm after he published his (finally public) paper on the impossibilities of the matter bridge, it was certainly justified. Sam laughed herself silly when he told her that afterwards, but Rodney is well aware that even the high and mighty Samantha Carter is not beyond the occasional boast and rightly so. If Rodney was curtailed in the public eye behind miles of confidentiality agreements for years on end, Sam had it much worse. Rodney only came into the Stargate Program part way through – Sam had been there from the very beginning.
Sometimes, just sometimes, they will talk about how things Might Have Been, had Sam made different choices; had Rodney been there from the start; had the military been a little less cautious, or a little more so; or mostly what would have happened had they really known what they were getting themselves into. There has never been a single day when either of them has regretted for a moment what led them to the present, but Rodney can't help but wonder if the future course they've charter through the stars is the one they're supposed to be following. Perhaps it really would have been better to figure it all out on their own.
But those days are few and far between and even further with each passing year. They don't have the help they once did, and Rodney can honestly feel pride that the breakthroughs they are making these days are down to a handful of brilliant and very human scientists scattered around the world. Perhaps they would have gotten to this place anyways, some time far ahead in a future too distant to imagine, but then Rodney would never have been able to look up at a new set of stars and marvel at how far they'd come. Then Atlantis would have lived out its life forgotten on the ocean floor of some distant world. And then none of them would have met; they would not have fought together, died together, loved together. And no matter what the past has brought to them or what the future holds, Rodney would not trade in any of it. Well, except maybe those far too frequent moments of pure terror.
On nights when the Californian sky is crystal clear and the Moon is new he will drive out of the city alone and park on a hill and look up at the sky. Mostly he will wonder what Ronon and Teyla are up to. They get reports filtered through from Atlantis, but they come infrequently and only Teyla seems to take the time to send messages and pictures. He has not seen either of them for more than three years, even with the trips he makes back. But he knows the Athosians are well. He can see that Torren is thriving and growing like a weed with each passing year. It is still not the same. In those moments he misses it (and all of them) most of all.
He goes about his daily life, helped along by copious amounts of coffee, Radek's insistent desire to prove that he is in fact smarter than Rodney, and incompetent underlings that he will never remember names for. They are constants in his life he supposes will never change. Radek has been offered substantial amounts of money to return and work for his own government, and it frustrates Rodney to no end whenever Radek tells him the newest offer. He is getting paid nowhere near those amounts in the US. He also knows that for Radek it was never about the money and even though they yell at each other six days out of seven to the consternation of their entire staff, neither of them would trade what they have for any number of zeros on a pay cheque. Rodney does not know how or when he inspired Radek's loyalty, but he is grateful for it nonetheless.
They have been back here six years now and some days it feels like it was only yesterday and others it feels like forever. And, occasionally, in the darkest hours of the night Rodney will awaken from deep sleep and wonder for the briefest instant if it all wasn't some glorious and terrifying dream. He is glad it was not. Still, they are here on Earth, (almost all of them) together, scattered though their jobs and lives keep them, and of everything Rodney is most surprised and most grateful for this. Because he never dreamed that they would all walk through their trials and tribulations alive; so many were lost that he cannot imagine what makes them all so special. All the stupid times John risked his life; all the occasions something nearly blew up with Rodney inside; all the times they lost someone for a day, a week, a month, only to get them back again. They have walked through the fire and emerged on the other side, not unscathed, but at least together. And that, he knows, makes walking this path that none of them ever wanted to imagine, even if most of them knew it was coming, the closest to happiness he ever thought he'd be.
He does not know what the future will bring, a fact that both equally amuses and scares him, and he is not so stupid to believe that it will be easy and peaceful the whole way. But it's all ahead of him, and he's not alone now and he is so absolutely ready to discover it.