Residual - by ArtemisPrime
Disclaimer: all things Stargate: Atlantis are the property of their respective owners. I'm not making any money off this, just playing with the toys. Enjoy.
The forty minute drive was the third longest of John Sheppard's life; only his mother's funeral procession and his father's bailing him out of jail at seventeen were longer.
The car drove past some lovely forested scenery, but the Colonel couldn't see the Redwoods or the ferns carpeting the forest floor. Too much like P2S-627. And hadn't that been what started all this?
Sheppard flicked his tongue around his mouth, hoping for some residual taste of Scotch whiskey.
Jeannie was quiet as she drove, glancing occasionally at Sheppard. Each time she was about to say something, she twisted her hands around the steering wheel instead. The silence was heavy.
John didn't care. She could be as uncomfortable as she wanted and he could give a fuck.
Stopping the vehicle in a gravelled parking lot, Jeannie shifted the gear into park a little harder than needed. Taking a deep breath, she faced Sheppard. "It won't be easy. The first time... It's always the hardest."
The Colonel's dark eyes gave a quick glance before he jammed his hand into the car door latch and stepped out into a sunny day that felt all wrong. He slammed the door shut behind him and began a long-stridden march up the hill. He heard the gentler shutting of another car door and the hurried scrapes of shoes up the stony pathway.
Reaching the top of the rise, Sheppard stopped. He'd come this far and now, the last few steps, he couldn't do it. He tapped his jacket before remembering that he hadn't brought the flask with him. God, he needed a fucking drink.
"John?" Jeannie stood close and John could see that she wanted to both run away and just gather him up into her arms. In his head, he could hear McKay's voice chastise John: 'Don't go all Kirk on her. She's married.'
Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, he resumed his walk, but at a much slower pace. He could almost smell death around him.
He nearly retched when he pulled the door open of the large building, the smell so strong he could taste it.
The pair now stood at the reception desk, with Jeannie talking to the person behind it about something Sheppard really didn't care to know about. He avoided looking at anything other than the cheesy painting on the wall behind the desk, wanting to tear the cheerful sunflowers to shreds. Maybe he should have brought one of Ronon's knives.
"Are you coming?"
Rodney?
John whipped his head in the direction of the voice, only to be crestfallen when he saw Jeannie where he thought McKay should have been. Shit, she sounded just like him.
And wasn't she standing next to him just a second ago, not fifteen feet to his left where she now waited with an exasperated expression?
Frowning, John licked his lips then lazily looked to the young woman at reception.
"There a bar around here?" Sheppard asked of...Nicole, according to the name tag prominently displayed on her red uniform. It was the same red as Atlantis had used in the infirmary when they'd first arrived at the city. Seemed an odd colour. Guess it hid the blood better. He scratched at the phantom pincers digging into his neck.
The receptionist's hair was Elizabeth's brown. He blinked twice, letting his expression smooth into casual, wiling himself to forget the looks of concern on his team member's faces after he'd woken. A few weeks in and he was already in the infirmary, his team already concerned about him. It was a role reversal he had been ill at ease with.
"A bar?" Nicole echoed.
"Yeah." He kept a steady gaze at the young woman.
"Oh, well..." She thought a moment. "I'm not really sure. I don't live in the area so I can't say exactly where there is one." She flushed a little.
Sheppard felt a tug on his elbow and quickly jerked his arm away.
"You want to go drinking now?" Jeannie admonished in a loud whisper. "We just got here."
John gave a charming half grin to Nicole, ignoring Jeannie.
"Oh, for the love of..." Jeannie rolled her eyes in a distinctly McKay fashion. "John, please don't make this any harder than it has to be." Her expression softened, pleading with the Colonel to follow her without any more disruptions.
With a wink to Nicole, he grudgingly followed Jeannie into the centre of the building they were in. The smell of death was stronger and it made Sheppard gag a little.
They walked a little further until they found a room off of the large lounge area. The door was open and there were maybe half a dozen people inside. Feeling himself stiffen, John surveyed the room and fought desperately to resist the urge to puke his guts out. Jeannie directed him to a plastic chair and he sat heavily in it.
God, he really needed a drink.
His leg began to bounce underneath his sweating palm resting on it. He never had sweaty palms. Ever. Not even when he'd gone to Ford's sister to explain how the Lieutenant had gone missing, willing himself to believe the lie that the SGC had concocted. Not even when he stood before the Stargate for the first time, his stomach doing a dance inside him, terrified and curious as to what was on the other side. Not even when he'd shut the door to his bedroom and grinned mischievously at the girl he'd smuggled into his parents house on the night of his sixteenth birthday.
"You must be John Sheppard," a far too upbeat woman's voice said.
A hand was shoved under John's nose and he immediately frowned and moved his head back.
"I'm Melanie."
Sheppard drew his eyes up the arm attached to the too-close hand and to an impossibly pale face with a toothy grin nearly blinding him under the florescent lights. Her hair was mousy brown and lay flat on her head. Her face was full and round. But her eyes did sparkle a bit.
Then again, maybe it was just the angle he was sitting at.
Non-plussed by Sheppard's failure to shake her hand, Melanie opted to tap against John's shoulder. "First time?"
Sheppard peered around this woman to Jeannie, who nodded her encouragement. "Yeah," he finally answered in a slow voice.
"Well, let me give you some basics." She slid into the chair next to Sheppard and he could feel her bulky leg press against him. He shifted in his seat. "No loud noises and nothing that might be outrageous or over the top. Things like rushing up to hug or a booming voice won't go over well." She looked Sheppard up and down then smiled. "I don't think that will be a worry, though."
John cursed Nicole for not finding him a bar.
"Next, remember to be calm when talking. A constant pace works well." She continued to rattle off various directives that Sheppard could care less about.
"Okey-dokey, then." Melanie stood. "It'll just be a few minutes to bring him out."
ooooooooooooooo
It took all of thirty seconds after they pulled out of the parking lot before John nearly screamed at Jeannie to stop the car. Barely opening the door in time, John emptied his stomach onto the shoulder of the road. He could scarcely see and his hands were shaking badly. He was dizzy and scared.
"John?" Jeannie called softly, resting a gentle hand over John's trembling one. He hadn't heard her shut down the engine nor hear her exit the vehicle to bend down in front of him. A blur of white and a soft caress filled his vision as he let her wipe his face from the sudden sweat that appeared.
Pitiful eyes looked to her. She leaned in, pulling him to her, feeling his body shudder. "Shh," she soothed, rubbing a hand through his dark hair and down his back. "It's okay. It's alright."
No, it wasn't fucking alright! Did she not see the same damn thing that he did? Did she not feel the coldness? The death? How in hell could she be so God damn calm?
Arms pressed a little tighter around John. He felt her heart, pounding as strongly and quickly as his own. She was alive and here. She was a McKay.
She was as warm as he was cold.
He felt his body suddenly lose the tension it had carried since arriving. John found himself gripping her tightly. He needed to be close to her. She was all he had left of Rodney.