Title: Doughnuts say, "I Love you."
Featured Characters: Meredith Rodney McKay & Jeannie Miller
Also Starring: John Sheppard & Carson Beckett
Author's Note: This is pretty much just a nod to siblinghood in general and an exploration of what Jeannie and Rodney's relationship might have been like as kids. Also, Rodney's mother makes a brief appearance.
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I have any rights to anything related to the Stargate franchise, much less its characters. This is just for grins and giggles not for gold. In other words, I'm not making money off of this.
There was nothing. No light, no gadgets, no tools, nothing to do, nothing to say, no on to say it to…nothing but the sounds. His own labored breath, the faint drip drip of water falling from somewhere to somewhere. From somewhere to somewhere, huh. McKay vaguely remembered the first time he had seen snow. How old had he been, one? Two? He had looked up into the sky as it came down:
"Whassat, Mommy?"
His mother had smiled that warm, gentle smile he remembered so well.
"It's snow Meredith."
"Snow?" He had queried, still gazing up at the blurry cascade.
"Yep, snow is water. The water got so hot it floated up into the air and the higher it got the colder it got. Finally, the water got so cold that it froze and when it froze it turned into a beautiful snowflake. Then it got heavy and came back to show us how beautiful it had become."
"Beautiful…" He murmured. That was his mother. She never talked down to him. She always explained the concepts behind things but somehow managed to make them understandable, poetic and, yes…"Beautiful", Rodney murmured again in the empty darkness. He was trapped alone in the dark. Alone. All alone.
"I don't wanna be alone", he heard himself whimper pathetically, his words warped and slurred in his own ears. "I don't wanna die alone. Not like this, please." No sound, no help and it hurt so much. There was nothing for him to do, no way to call out. Nothing. He was going to die alone in the dark. No doughnuts, no nothing, just alone. He didn't want to be alone. He had been alone for so much of his life.
His mind accosted him with images from his past. They were so vivid and so completely out of his control they frightened him. He felt lost in them, like he was trapped in a waking nightmare version of "This is your life".
He saw once again the imposing high school. The stares of the other students. He heard the other freshmen's taunts.
"You lost, kid?" "Grammar school's two blocks down, Dorcas!"
He jerked away from the sights and sounds. It's not real!
"It's not real." He whispered. But that was only half true. It was real, it was just in the past.
"Over…it's over…not real…ow, ow, ow…ahhh. Stop it, t'hurts."
Merry, Merry
Quite contrary
The old taunting song played in his head.
Watch him piss his pants
He's scared because
He knows we're all
Gonna kick his genius ass!
"No!" He said with what force he could. His head, which had been steadily drooping forward now jerked back, and the empty blackness seemed to move and tilt. Rodney vomited. The acrid and coppery smell of vomit and blood was powerful and he felt ashamed. He was going to die covered in his own piss and vomit, unable to move, not even to wipe away the mess. He was going to die without seeing Jeannie again. Jeannie. So beautiful. That warm smile. Just like Mom.
He saw once again his mother's smile, holding back laughter in the grade school principal's office. On this particular occasion, Rodney had refused to complete a Math test. He had, he thought, very logically pointed out that several of the single digit multiplication problems repeated themselves, sometimes even on the same page. Instead of completing the test, Rodney had simply written out every possible single digit multiplication problem and their answers in a tight even script on the back of the page and then refused to do any more of the math problems presented to him. His teacher and the principal were not amused with the precocious five-year-old.
I don't understand, Mommy.
Rodney heard himself say, as though he was back in the front seat with his mother driving home from school.
Testing is to prove something, right? They're supposed to prove I know how to multiply and I proved it. I proved it much better than they did and they're mad at me. People are so…stupid!
He could hear his mother's light, musical laugh. He smiled despite the pain.
Yes, dear. I'm afraid that in life, and this actually applies to you more than most, we are going to meet people we find to be especially stupid. I'll try to explain what I understand. Mr. Greyson and Mr. Williams aren't really mad at you, Meredith. They have a system they use to teach and you don't fit in that system. That makes them uncomfortable.
"It feels like they're mad at me." His hollow voice whispered to the darkness.
Maybe, but that doesn't matter. Sweetie, you're a very smart little boy and because of that you're going to see things differently than other people. If you challenge the systems people have created…um, hmm, what I mean is…if you point out that the way they think is wrong it will make them angry a lot of the time but that doesn't mean you shouldn't still try to make it better. Understand?
"No, I don't understand." He whispered to the echo.
When you see something is wrong, you can't ignore it just because pointing it out will make you unpopular…um…make people not like you. Most of the time people will get over it, though it may take them a long time. Meredith, you're going to make the world a better place.
The smile, that smile so warm and comforting; it felt like…like a towel fresh from a warm dryer. He felt the warmth wrap itself around him in the cold, wet, darkness and cried.
"I'm sorry…so sorry…Jeannie…"
He didn't want to die. He didn't want to do that to Jeannie. Hadn't she lost enough? Mom. Dad. Now him?
Poor Jeannie. Poor, sweet, thoughtful Jeannie.
School had been such hell. He couldn't even take comfort in classes. They were so remedial to him and his father refused to let him advance. According to his test results, Rodney could have skipped high school completely and gone straight to college but his father felt that starting high school at the age of 11 was bad enough. What he didn't understand was that University students probably would have had a more mature reaction to an underage classmate. He couldn't understand that being able to actually learn from teachers and engage in classes would have made it worth it even if his classmates at University had treated him ten times as badly as his high school classmates.
High school is generally hell, but high school for an eleven year old takes the concept to an entirely different level. If it weren't for the doughnuts…
"Doughnuts" Rodney whispered smiling dazedly and then he chuckled which was a mistake. The almost dreamy expression was wiped away. The chuckle had caused him to draw in breath more deeply than he should and he started to choke on the blood that breath had dredged up from the depths of his lungs. The choking caused him to instinctively take even more deep breaths which only agitated his damaged lungs further. He tried desperately to exercise control, to make his breathing shallow but his body screamed for oxygen. Pink foam appeared at his lips and he spit it away, still unable to move to wipe at it. The choking finally stopped but breathing was now much more difficult and the pain in his chest was terrible.
Just as well. He thought. Even whispering was beyond him now. I'm so tired. The sooner the better.
He was surprised that he wasn't afraid. He was normally so afraid. Maybe it was because there was nothing he could do. Ironic, the fact that he found his fate being completely out of his hands liberating. He had done all he could do and if he died, then so be it. Wait.
No!
"Jeannie." He barely breathed.
He couldn't leave Jeannie, not after the doughnuts.
Everyday, there it was. A fresh warm doughnut appeared in his locker almost every single morning of his senior year. Jeannie had thought she had been so clever, figuring out his locker combination.
The thoughtfulness in the gesture had amazed him. She rode her bike to school every single day, rain or shine. She said it was to help maintain her weight. Like Rodney Jeannie had inherited hypoglycemia which made maintaining a healthy weight difficult and fitness probably truly was part of the equation but it wasn't the whole story.
Every…single…day Jeannie stopped at Meche's Pastries and bought her big, socially awkward dolt of a genius brother a fresh doughnut. She was so consistent about it; the shop would have the bag ready and waiting every morning. Rodney learned later that, to save time, Jeannie had even started paying for the doughnuts a week in advance so that all she had to do was run in and grab the bag from behind the counter.
The result was that every…single…day that Rodney went to school that last terrible year, when he opened up his locker there was a small, sweet reminder that someone cared.
They never spoke of it. Rodney had known almost immediately who it was but Jeannie liked to think it was a secret, so he stayed quiet. He wouldn't have known what to say anyway. But as the end of the school year approached he knew that he couldn't just let it go.
In the cold darkness he saw, once again, the view of Jeannie's locker from his hiding place around the corner. He watched her turn the corner and stop dead at the sight, twenty-three dozen Meche's doughnut boxes pilled in front of her locker. Rodney had bought the exact number of boxes necessary to completely obscure her locker door. He could see her face now, in the darkness. The tearful smile.
That memory more than any other comforted him now. Jeannie knew. He had so much trouble saying the words but the doughnuts had said it for him.
"I love you, Jeannie." He gasped to the darkness as he felt the greedy liquid in his lungs claim his breath. Did he hear something? Something new? Doesn't matter. One last breath. "I love you." The breath escaped and slipped away, leaving Rodney's body quiet and still; an island of peace in a world erupting into chaos.
"Rodney? Rodney? Can you hear me? Colonel, I think he's coming 'round."
The first thing of which Rodney was completely aware was the fact that he wasn't wearing underwear. It was a strange first thought to have but he never "went commando" and it really did strike him as strange.
"Rodney? Hey, buddy, can you hear me?" A raspy American voice had joined the Scottish one. He knew those voices. He had been thinking about…what? Thoughts were like greased eggs. The tighter he grasped at them the faster they shot through his fingers to shatter on the floor. He was aware of the tube down his throat now. The sound, that was the sound. It was the sucking Darth Vader like sound of a respirator.
"Rodney." The Scottish voice was back. "Rodney, I know it's hard but I need you to open your eyes for me. Can you do that? Just a wee bit. Just let us know you're there. Come on, open your eyes, Rodney. That's it."
His eyelids felt glued together and the light was unbearable even with them closed but he felt the fear and concern in the Scottish voice and wanted to oblige.
He cracked his eyes open and looked out on a blurry landscape full of pinkish blotches that seemed to be crowding in around him. He managed to blink a few times before his eyes shut again, seemingly of their own accord.
His hand reached up instinctively for the tube trailing uncomfortably down his throat.
"Ah, ah, ah." He heard the Scottish voice hiss and felt pressure on his arm. There was pain and he winced, biting down on the plastic in his mouth.
"Sorry, oh sorry, Rodney." The voice said contritely. "You mustn't touch that. You've had a rough go of it, my friend. I'm afraid both your lungs collapsed. It's quite fortunate you're radio was stuck in transmit mode. I might have taken you for long dead if we hadn't heard that last whisper right before we unearthed you."
Rodney couldn't think, he couldn't understand. His mother could always make him understand the hard things. He wished she was here, or at least Jeannie. Jeannie.
With an agonizing amount of effort, Rodney forced his eyelids open again to look at Carson. Yes, Carson, that's who it was. The face was still a blurry blob of pink but the voice was unmistakable. He had to figure out how to talk. How to get a message? Ah!
He reached out feebly for Carson's hand. The doctor quickly grabbed at the hand and squeezed it reassuringly. But Rodney shook his hand loose with as much force as possible. Instead he fumbled blindly until Carson's hand lay on the bed underneath his own and he started to tap.
"Colonel, do you happen to know Morse code? I think Rodney is trying to tell us something but I'm afraid I must have missed that class at medical school."
Rodney stopped tapping as he felt the two men switch positions.
"Okay, Rodney, I'm ready. Go ahead." Said the raspy voice of Colonel John Sheppard.
Rodney tapped out the message.
J…E…A…N…N…I…E
"Jeannie? She's on the way, Rodney. She's on her way."
Rodney smiled even more crookedly than usual behind the plastic tubing and felt the tears trickle from the corners of his eyes. It was a testament to his mental state that he was aware both John and Carson were seeing him cry, and he simply didn't care.
Jeannie looked down at the still form of her brother, Mer…no…Rodney. She really did need to start making an effort to call him that.
"How did this happen?" She said, turning to face John, trying to keep her voice from sounding accusing.
The way John hunched at the question told her that she had failed.
"We were helping evacuate a planet designated P3X-224. We had gotten word that a Wraith hive ship was on the way to cull the planet and we were warning the locals. They have this system of tunnels they use to hide from the Wraith. Actually, a lot of planets use that trick." John paused and his gaze shifted from Jeannie to the quiet form in the bed. "McKay had intercepted a communication indicating that the Wraith were not only on their way, but had been informed of the location of the tunnel system. It seems one of the inhabitants had been culled while trading on another planet and the Wraith had done their voodoo thing with his mind."
"We knew we had to warn them that their hiding place wasn't safe any longer. We got there well ahead of the Wraith but it was hard convincing the people. We had to almost drag them out of the tunnels and toward the gate."
John frowned.
"We were spread out a bit trying to get people to leave. McKay came on the radio and said something about checking out an offshoot to the tunnel. Then we heard him falling. There was some kind of old well down the corridor and McKay broke through the cover. It looks like his radio got stuck in transmit mode, so we couldn't talk to him but we could hear everything going on."
John shifted uncomfortably, glancing up at Jeannie now.
"We knew he was still alive but we also knew that he was hurt pretty badly. His breathing sounded terrible and he seemed to be disoriented. He would talk but what he was saying didn't make sense. We finally got him out and just in time, too. Doc figures his left lung collapsed when he had the choking fit and the second right before we got to him. He had been wedged pretty tight with broken ribs, the arm and a pretty bad concussion. Not to mention the fact that by the time we were ready to dial Atlantis the Wraith were right on our tails. He hung in there though. He said your name. He said it several times. That last thing he said was I love you and I think he was talking to you. The first thing he did when he woke up was tap your name out in Morse code."
John looked at Jeannie to see if the message was getting through. She nodded curtly, her wet eyes still fixed on Rodney.
A smile flickered at the corner of John's mouth and his voice lightened a bit.
"Though he did also mention doughnuts more than once." He chuckled.
At that statement, Jeannie's head jerked back up to stare at John.
"Doughnuts?" She asked and her reaction startled him. "He mentioned doughnuts?"
"Yeah," John said staring at her with a puzzled expression. "He said something about doughnuts a couple of times. That mean something to you? I just assumed he was being McKay, you know…" John's voice trailed off. Jeannie was crying. The almost stony exterior she had maintained since being hustled to a cloaked jumper with the cryptic news that Rodney had been "gravely injured" shattered and she collapsed sobbing into the bedside chair.
John suddenly felt very out of place and quickly retreated to give her as much privacy as possible. As he left the two siblings, he glanced back to see Jeannie laying her cheek against her brother's uninjured hand.
Doughnuts did this? John thought incredulously. He shook his head and smiled. Definitely a strange family.
THE END