Word from the Author: Okay, so. Aftermath of the Shrine, people. Take it or leave it.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not mine. Not mine. ...damnit.
I've Built This Shrine Unto Your Name, But Still My Heart Remains Unclaimed
I love you. I've loved you for some time now.
I love you. I've loved you for some time now.
I love you. I've loved you for… Where's—where'd John go? John? WHERE ARE YOU, JOHN? JOHN—!
Jennifer jerked awake.
God, she thought, her breathing haggard as she sat hunched over, elbows propping her up, not another one.
For the last few nights, ever since she'd somehow managed to save Rodney, she's dreamed the same dream, over and over, always the same, always a reflection of how it really happened – lighthearted banter, soft and pleasing flirtation, hesitant confessions, and… the truth. It was the truth part that always threw her, startling her awake every time, even though she should know it by now.
She couldn't help it, as she watched the tapes over and over, until she knew the monologue so well she could recite it in her sleep – which seemed to be precisely what she's been doing.
That's the thing; she really, really liked Rodney. She never would've thought so when she'd first met him. But Dr. Rodney McKay, head of the Science and Research Department, Atlantis, in the Pegasus galaxy, the local cluster, was a lot more than he let show on the surface. A lot more.
Genius, she remembered on a half-laugh.
Flopping onto her back, she stared blankly at the ceiling. Day 15. Day 15. The day that it all started to become apparent; by then, Rodney had already forgotten all about her.
Rolling onto her side, she silently scrubbed at her eyes, irritated at the way they were starting to itch, because she wasn't going to cry. She wasn't. She'd already cried enough as it is. The guilt, the realization, that she hadn't even noticed when Rodney had started to change, when he was no longer himself, it filled her up.
Taking a deep breath, exhaling, in the darkness and solitude of her room, she could admit it – the truth, that… that was a lie. It'd been obvious, the change. She'd noticed. Of course, she'd noticed, for god's sake. She had liked it. More than she'd like him for him, apparently. And that fact alone was already eating away at her, churning up her insides, making her hate herself just that little bit for it.
She felt affection for Rodney, yes, even when he was really himself, but it was nothing, at all, compared to Colonel Sheppard. John.
Somewhere along the way, she'd taken to calling him that. John. John. John.
Rodney, Rodney, listen to me, John'll be back, it's okay. Rodney, John's here. John's here, now. Rodney?
Even when he'd started to lose himself, John, he could still remember. So clearly it was painful.
She'd seen it then, in the way he'd lit up, as soon as John appeared. She could hear it in the tenor of his voice, the absolute trust Rodney felt for the man. She'd hated having to break it, to show it for what it was – that they weren't telling him everything. She'd hated having to watch as he withdrew into himself, shut down, in reaction to what she was saying.
I love you. I've loved you for some time now.
Lies that spoke the truth, and truths that lied.
Jennifer sighed, wondering whether this was what Katie Brown had felt; that there was so much to love about this one person, who so needed to be loved, who called out for it so sharply that it hurt not to love him. Only to find that it hurt even more to realize that, it wasn't really your love he was after. Was this what she'd felt, when he'd simply given up on her?
It was entirely possible.
Because, when push came to shove, Rodney McKay, Dr., Mr., whatever, was already filled to the brim, with his team, his friends, but most of all, John Sheppard.
I love you. I've loved you for some time now.
I love you. I've loved you for some time now.
I love you. I've loved you for… Where's—where'd John go? John? WHERE ARE YOU, JOHN? JOHN—!
John…
She just wondered whether he would ever do anything about it.
Because she'd seen the way John, John, had watched him, the way he'd run to him, the way he, god, the way he touched him. For all that John Sheppard was the proverbial Ice Prince, there was such heat, such intensity when it came to Rodney McKay, whether they were joking, playfully, or bickering, just as playfully, or simply silent in each other's presence.
Whenever she looked at Rodney now, it was never her own reflection that she saw in his eyes.
All she could see reflected there was John.
If only he'd open his damn eyes to see it, too.
Finis.
Another Word from the Author: Right. So. Yeah. I'm, just, you know, gonna go over there now.
