The sky above Atlantis was a deep indigo blue, lightening towards the western horizon where the sun was sinking into the ocean. The air was crisp and cool, a light breeze wafting over the balcony where Rodney McKay stood staring down, his mood as dark as the waters that washed against the city structure.
Lifting his glass, he finished off a third measure of wine. He knew he was getting drunk but he frankly didn't give a fuck. He glared at the water in impotent anger. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
They had come to Atlantis to find the Ancients, to discover more about the race that had built the Stargate if not meet them. They were supposed to find a way of beating the Goa'uld once and for all and free the thousands of planets under their control, not find a race worse than them. They weren't supposed to have so many people die. He'd not signed up to end up in shit.
Rodney sighed heavily. It was too late now. He'd made his choice and come here, and now the Wraith were awake and every single moment of his life from then to now he'd spent fighting to save the city, his team, himself. It wasn't likely to change any time soon either.
He heard a step behind and stiffened. He'd come out here to be alone. Brooding wasn't something you could do effectively with an audience.
"Rodney?"
The tentative query surprised him. He'd expected John or Elizabeth. He'd not expected her.
Rodney turned round and regarded Laura Cadman. She stood there, an uncertain expression on her face. He hadn't known she'd been on the Daedalus at the time, though he realised it now given the haunted look in her eyes. He didn't doubt for a moment that same look was reflected in his.
"Cadman," he said. "Come to join the party?"
He couldn't help the bitterness in his tone, though he regreted it when she grimaced. However she crossed to the balcony, standing beside him. She stared up at the stars that were emerging as the daylight faded. Rodney hadn't been looking upwards; he didn't really want to think about what was up. Or rather, what had been up.
"You okay?" she asked him suddenly.
He snorted a laugh at that question.
"Not particularly."
"No." She didn't sound surprised.
Rodney refilled his glass. The wine was Athosian and really rather strong. He looked at the bottle and then offered the glass to Cadman. She took it and he clinked the bottle against it in a silent toast. She smiled faintly and drank. She looked back up.
"We should name a star after them," she announced quietly.
"Just the one?"
"A constellation then."
Rodney thought about that. It seemed like quiet a good idea, but he was pretty drunk. Still...
"Which one?"
He watched her gaze at the stars and wondered if she could tell from their position where the Aurora had been when... when it had done what it had done. He knew that it was too far away to be seen from Atlantis, but there were stars around the area that could be.
"That one," she said, pointing and he followed the line of her finger to the darkening sky.
"Okay," Rodney agreed. "How exactly do you name a constellation?"
Cadman finished her wine, then held her glass out imperiously for more. Rodney refilled it, but he swayed slightly, which made her look at him suspiciously.
"How much have you had to drink?"
"Not enough," he retorted, daring her to argue. However she just looked at him for a moment longer, then glanced upwards. She shuddered slightly and nodded. He knew then she understood.
She lifted her glass. "To Aurora," she said softly. "Forever amongst the stars."
Rodney felt something inside him snap. He sagged against one of the uprights, his eyes closed. Yet more death; it was too much.
"Rodney?" He heard Cadman's voice, worried. He shook his head. "Rodney, what's wrong?"
He opened his eyes and stared at her.
"What's wrong?" he echoed quietly, his tone despairing. "What's right Cadman? There were hundreds of people on the Aurora and now they're dead. It's... it's not right."
"I know," she replied. "But... but they would have died anyway. Their bodies were too old. There was nothing you could do Rodney."
She understood. Rodney shook his head again, even though she was right. She came closer, taking his hands. Hers felt warm, or maybe his were cold.
"Maybe not this time," he answered darkly. "But what about the others?"
"What others?"
"You want a list?" he snapped, pulling his hand from hers and stalking away. "How about Abrams and Gaul; both of whom I chose for a mission? Or Wagner and Johnson, Dumais, Peterson and Hays? They were all members of my team and now they're dead. And let's not forget Peter Grodin who died because I couldn't mend a fucking satellite!"
Cadman took a step back, shock showing on her face at his fury. Rodney stared at her and the faint fear in her eyes. He realised she was afraid of him and that realisation evaporated the anger. He stood there for a moment, shaking and gazing at her, a mute apology in his eyes.
"I... I..." he stuttered, then broke. Too much death, too much alcohol. He crumpled to the floor, sobbing like a child and not giving a fuck who saw him.
A moment later and arms wrapped round him. He caught the fragrance of something that was either perfurm or deoderant but unmistakably Cadman. He stiffened immediately, making a noise of protest and a half-hearted attempt to extract himself from her embrace, both of which she ignored. Her grip was stronger than he would have credited and he gave up, unable to fight her and the overwhelming surge of emotion from within him. Sagging against her, he let go for the first time since he'd arrived at Atlantis.
"It wasn't your fault," she whispered, her own voice sounding broken. "You can't fix everything."
Rodney sighed, knowing she was right. But he couldn't help trying. Or feeling guilty that he couldn't. Fixing things – or improving them – was the only thing he was good at. He didn't have the patience or the tact for diplomacy, nor the skills to be a soldier though he was learning and could hold his own. He was bad with people. He been downright awful to Cadman, yet here she was with her arms around him and letting him bawl all over what was probably her best shirt.
"Sorry," he mumbled and sniffed. "Stupid, I know."
"It's not stupid to mourn the loss of friends Rodney."
He pulled back and looked at her. There were tear tracks on her face and he reached out, drying them with a brisk sweep of his thumb. For a moment he left his hand on her cheek and her eyelids swept down. She sighed heavily, then looked at him again. He gave her a wan smile.
"Where were we?" he asked, his voice slightly rough.
Cadman gave a soft, humourless laugh and recovered the bottle of wine and her glass, drinking the wine left in it. She refilled it and gave the bottle to Rodney.
"I think we were up to drinking," she said.
"Most probably," he agreed. They did so, then Rodney looked upwards. "So which one is it? We ought to make notes. You know, so we can tell everyone else?"
She twisted round and pointed. "That one," she said and finished off another glass.
"The Aurora Constellation," he mused. "Sounds good."
"That it does."
"Cadman?"
"Laura."
"Okay, then. Laura?"
"Yes, Rodney?"
"Is it just me or is it really cold out here?"
She chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."
Rodney rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet and held out a hand to Cadm- Laura. She took it and he helped her to her feet. She wavered and then giggled.
"You're tipsy, Lieutenant," he noted cheerfully.
"That's nothing," she replied. "You're completely pissed."
"Not yet I'm not," he retorted, taking another swig from the bottle. He offered the reaining contents to Laura but she shook her head.
"Wuss," he murmured.
"I'm not," she said. "I just value a clear head in the morning."
"You? You don't do mornings if I remember correctly."
"Whatever. I won't be the one with a hangover."
"Wuss," he said again.
"I could drink you under the table McKay."
Rodney looked at her, his mouth quirking into a smile. "Is that a challenge?"
She returned his gaze steadily. "If you like."
"Alright, you're on," he replied noting how she didn't even blink and that made him grin more. Despite his best efforts, he was beginning to like this young woman. Unlike others that he knew, she was completely unfazed by his tendency for biting sarcasm. In fact, she gave as good as she got and he quite liked that. She was grinning at him now, and he found the awfulness of the day fading slightly at the brightness of that smile.
"Come on," he said then, grabbing her hand. "Let's go announce our new constellation."
Laura's laughter drifted up to the clear night sky where the stars of Aurora glittered brightly.