Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or the places found in Stargate: Atlantis. If it's not in the show, it's mine.
Summary: Episode tag/twist for Tao of Rodney. McKay's only got two options, death or ascension, and the journey towards either might just tear him apart. There are some things humans were never meant to understand.
Spoilers: Any episode up to and including Tao of Rodney is fair game.
Characters: Everyone. Yay.
Author's Note: I don't have a beta for any of my stories, so there's that forewarning... there's some swearing, nothing gratuitous, but I'm a sailor so I know full well what things come out of your mouth during dire situations and I prefer to be realistic. Not much else to say other than that, just that I found the episode vastly amusing and the ending not to my liking, so I toyed with the story a bit. It grew to be almost obnoxiously long and after realizing that it's going to take me a while to write, I broke it down into chapters. Well, here's to hoping you enjoy it
And so now I move on
To keep my peace of mind
In some way, I've failed you
But I just ran out of time
-Shinedown
Clear Blue Skies
by Bremm
Chapter 1
He can't bear to look at Radek. He can't bear to look at any of them. The emotions that play across their faces are almost physically painful; Elizabeth's fear, Sheppard's disbelief, but maybe worst of all is the look Rodney catches on Carson's face. It's not jealously in those blue eyes– god no, Carson has never been that kind of person – but there's something there that makes Rodney's gut churn.
It hits him suddenly like a hammer blow, exactly what it is he's just done, what he fears in Carson's gaze - Carson is staring at him like he's staring at a stranger, like he isn't even Rodney, and he's not, not any longer, and that terrifies him. I'm not even human anymore, he comprehends in horror. His gaze darts down to his hands, which he's retracted from Radek's chest – feels the flow of energy, energy that's on the tip of his tongue, the tip of his fingertips, swirling all around him -
He turns and runs. Sheppard makes a startled noise as Rodney ducks around the corner of the infirmary, out of sight, but Rodney doesn't dare pause. Anything would be better than staying and facing... facing that, facing whatever it is he's just done. Facing whatever it is he's woken up inside himself.
The urge to get as far away as possible is overwhelming. He doesn't know what he's running from, only knows relief as his feet are pounding against the ground and the scene in the infirmary is fading into the distance. His footfalls are loud in his ears, unbearably so, but he can't concentrate enough to force his heightened senses back to some semblance of normal.
He can't wash the feeling out of his mind. The mind-boggling awareness of the human body, the flow of blood through veins, the beat of a heart, each intake and exhalation of breath, it thunders through his head like a runaway train. His own heart beats harder and harder with each step, his blood pounding through his veins with increasing force, a current as strong as the energy he felt when-
I just brought a man back to life.
Rodney is terrified. The aesthetics of the hallway are passing in a blur of blue and white and his mind churns frantically, I healed him, I can do things like that-
Deep breaths, McKay, deep breaths, he thinks almost frantically to himself as he runs. He focuses on his breath, trying to drown the feeling, which is dumb of him, because he doesn't succeed at all and now he's aware of the sharp spike of pain in his side he's building at this speed and the fact that his shins are beginning to feel like they're on fire. He's still aware of Radek inside him. The feeling is still there, in his chest like a hard blot, one he can reach up and touch but he forces himself not to, because that's stupid. There's nothing physically there.
Within minutes he's far, far away from the infirmary and feels safe enough to stop, which he does in a nondescript, deserted hallway. His panting is still loud in his ears. He feels a brief moment of embarrassment – how idiotic it was to think he could outrun something like that. He can no more escape this feeling that he can ascend, and he presses one trembling hand against the wall of the city for support. It pulses beneath his fingers and he snatches the hand away as if it has been burned.
Sapience. Rodney stares wildly at the walls of the city. Atlantis is alive. There is an energy flow there, same as the one he still feels from Radek, the one he feels through himself. It's sound and touch and smell and feeling, woven in ways that make his heart flutter in his chest to comprehend it, because he is actually a part of the city, woven into the fabric like a strand of thread, just as he's woven into Radek and has walked away with a piece of the man and he feels claustrophobia rear its ugly head with all the suddenness and finesse of a raging bull.
He needs to be outside. The claustrophobia is reaching unbearable heights, rising like a rapidly flooding room he's trapped in and the hall feels as if it's pressing in. There is a balcony nearby, the knowledge is there lightning quick, and he stumbles towards it, feeling vaguely sick and noticing for the first time that his radio is speaking to him.
It's Sheppard. "Rodney, I know you can hear me. Ignoring me isn't going to solve anything-" and he shuts it off with a projected mental thought, nausea roiling in his stomach and the image of facing anyone is unbearable.
His feet take him to a nondescript door which leads to a balcony outside. He waves his hand in front of the door crystals and the door slides open. A swift breeze greets him, rustling his hair and clothes, and he breathes. Practically hurtling out onto the balcony, desperate, he dives forward until he's at the edge and grasps the guard rail with his hands like a dying man scrambling for salvation. The railing is cold to the touch. Atlantis is spread out before him, majestic as ever, and the ocean continues endlessly beyond it. Blessed, blessed distance.
Rodney hunches over until his forehead is resting against the cold metal of the railing. He closes his eyes and concentrates on breathing, one deep breath after the other. He's still shaking and tries to make himself stop. I'm not human anymore, no human could have done what I just did- the city is alive, actually alive, Radek is in me and he wont leave, I'm in me and I don't understand any of this-
The scene in the infirmary plays in his mind like a movie clip stuck on repeat. Carson is looking at him with that horrible gaze and Elizabeth raises one hand to her mouth and says softly, "Rodney..."
Rodney swallows thickly. He opens his eyes, then blinks furiously as they start to burn. From unshed tears, he realizes, and swallows again. He lifts his head fractionally, the imprint of the guard-rail cool against his forehead, high enough to gaze down at his hands.
He's never understood it before, why the Ancients were so enthralled with ascension. What was the point, he wondered, of knowing the answer to everything? What was the point of existing, even on a higher plane, if you couldn't actually interact with everything you ever knew... to watch as nothing more than an observer, being unable to act as Atlantis fights a losing war, to watch his friends die one by one, never exchanging a single word, never changing a single thing... he's can't be sure of what it's like but that's what he imagines. How could anyone bear that? What was worth that price?
"It's all energy," he says aloud to himself and the words sound right. He can almost see it in his hands, which are held in front of his face with the endless ocean and spires of Atlantis as the backdrop. He can fathom the flow that travels through his whole body, to the tips of his fingers and back again and he flexes his hands, his mind churning. There are few ineffable truths to the universe – and even those are quickly dwindling the longer he's in the Pegasus Galaxy - but one that's held firm throughout it all is the law of equivalent exchange. Nothing is ever free. Everything has its price, measure for measure, forcing you to give back exactly what you take. You can sit around the table and haggle on how much you want to trade, but in the end there is the irrefutable fact that you started with a set amount and that's all there is to barter with. Conservation of energy. You cannot create or destroy; you simply mold what is already there. Rodney knows the price he's paying for this understanding of the energy and the ability to manipulate it.
He understands now, having felt Radek's still heart beneath his fingers. He realizes what exactly they found so appealing, why they seemed to be gods to so many lesser people.
This energy is everything. It's a mantra in his mind, like a blaring klaxon sounding over and over, everything, everything. It's power, unbelievable power, it's salvation and the ability to change the universe. He gazes out into the ocean and the spires of Atlantis jutting up like beacons of heaven and the comprehension of things formerly beyond him grows, like it has been by the hour, the minute, the second. Growing exponentially until it reaches the point where he can press his fingertips to flesh and know the energy there, the energy that's drifting away, reforming into something else. Walking into the infirmary and knowing that Radek is dying.
How incredible is it, that he doesn't want that energy to do that, so he calls it back, he commands it to come back, and it does, as readily as the 42,000th digit of pi is on the tip of his tongue before he barely acknowledges thinking about it.
It swarms under his hands and there are minute details, tiny almost insignificant errors in the energy, flaws, and he fixes them without knowing how. He makes the energy right and commands it to stay that way for a long, long time. He can do that.
The replay continues in his head; Radek draws a huge breath, the chest beneath his hands moving, the still heart beating, and Rodney pulls his hands back. God, he understands. He's trembling with it, because in that instant when Radek draws his first breath, he feels the energy. It's all around, it's everything, it's Elizabeth and Carson and Sheppard and it's him. He realizes with horror that he can unmake himself if he wanted to. He has that kind of control.
Ascension. He well and truly understands what's happening to him now.
The urge to run flares - he wants to escape the city, but as soon as the thought comes another horrible one follows, the realization that he can't escape it. The city isn't just energy, the planet was energy, death, ascension, everything was energy. He wants this understanding gone. He doesn't think he can live like this.
Granted, he doesn't have to bear this long because he's dying, but that's a whole other level of fear and trepidation that he doesn't want to acknowledge. When he dies... he knows what that's like because he felt it through Radek; his energy will disperse and reform into something else. He thinks that the energy and connections he feels now will still be there - a little bit of him becomes a part of this, a tiny bit becomes a part of that, still contained within that web of interconnections... it's never going to end. He's never going to escape it.
Ascension is the same horror, because you're still becoming energy, only retaining a consciousness, an awareness of that connection – existing on a higher plane and Rodney can barely comprehend the power that would be involved with that. God, if what he could do now was only the barest tip of the iceberg - and to be able to do nothing with that but watch...
The shaky sigh that escapes him feels like it came all the way up from the bottom of his feet. His head is pounding and he forces himself away from those thoughts with a monumental effort.
He doesn't want to be alone. He doesn't want to deal with this by himself. Almost unconsciously he turns his radio back on with an offhand thought, wanting to hear Sheppard's voice.
The radio channel is silent and he flips through each one. Nothing on any channel.
Rodney exhales and the soft wind, smelling of a salty ocean, buffets his face, pulling at his jacket. Does he really want human contact right now? Can he deal with what he left behind in the infirmary?
He timidly reaches out with his mind. He's cautious at first – reading people's thoughts was an unconscious effort so far, so he's not sure what he's doing when he's actually concentrating on it – and very faintly, when he focuses on Sheppard, he feels Sheppard's mind and the barest hint of turmoil and worry and anger; a brief flash of Atlantis' hallways, a stained-glass window passing by in a blur...
He pulls back with the knowledge that Sheppard is looking for him. The concept of distance is not there though, so he doesn't know where Sheppard is. He wonders what the look on Sheppard's face will be like; if the Colonel will stare at him like he's not even Rodney anymore, and if he can bear that.
This is all too surreal. The infirmary seems like a dream.
His hands are curled around the guard rail again and through that connection he absently concentrates on the web of energy that he's identified as Atlantis. There is the faintest of whispers in the back of his mind, abstract and foreign, and its presence is too alien, not a comfort at all, so he draws away.
How close is Sheppard, he wonders. How soon will he have to face what he did? The uncertainly is gnawing away at him, stroking the fire of nausea that had almost gone out in his stomach. All the possibilities are in turmoil in his mind, all the accusations, the lack of understanding, and Rodney is afraid he's scared away his only lifeline that keeps him grounded. He keeps telling himself that he's being irrational, that they're not going to be afraid of him, that Sheppard is trailing Rodney out of concern and a desire to help.
He concentrates this time not on Sheppard's mind, but on Sheppard's physical body. It works, sort of, though he gets information that eerily reminds him of a butcher assessing a slab of meat – it's all fat content and weight and pointless medical information like blood pressure and cholesterol levels – it's freaky, but works, and Rodney pulls back. Sheppard is not nearby, he knows now, but is nonetheless moving steadily closer. It is both a comfort and a worry.
Using his mind like that is more taxing than Rodney originally gave credit, for weariness has settled between his shoulders and his headache has intensified, so he leans his weight against the guard rail, staring off into the distance.
Ascension. Radek. Dying.
Rodney wants to rip his hair out in frustration. He wishes he could bleach his mind and get rid of all of this, the advent of his genetic structure, the awareness of this energy flow and his ability to manipulate it. He wishes he could go back in time and never touch that damn machine. The price for this is too high, too high... he wants it gone. He wants it to escape-
Escape. It was a vague thought, but as soon as it floats through his mind it sears onto his brain like a brand. Escape. The energy escaping - the energy that is massive and brimming and overwhelming and he wants nothing more than to let it go. It's straining to be somewhere, he's not sure where, but somewhere other than inside Rodney and it's killing him.
I'm almost there, he knows. I'm in the final stages of ascension. It should be possible.
The urge comes and he acts. In desperation he tries to see if he can let it go. He focuses every iota of thought onto the feeling of Radek beneath his hands, the energy unraveling, dispersing, fleeing... he imagines that it's himself, that he's coming apart at the seams, every awful emotion easing and falling away, every memory, every dream, every fear, every connection, separating, disassembling, rising...
His heart flutters in his chest, his vision tunnels, he gasps without hearing it because the world has faded into white noise and without warning he's on his knees, not feeling the pain of his weight crashing onto the ground, not feeling his breath coming fast like he's just run a marathon, feeling nothing, numb and nothing-
He reels for a moment in darkness, uncomprehending what has just happened, knowing only that time briefly lapsed, marked only by the impression of something impossibly vast and a mind consuming fear that carried no reason with it.
The darkness fades like a receding tide and the first thing he can feel is the ocean breeze on his face. He takes huge, shaking breaths. He bends over and places his hands on the balcony floor and that's cold too, like the guard rail. Energy... it's straining now, worse than ever. It's almost a physical pain, somewhere in his chest. His shaking is more pronounced. He curses his stupidity in experimenting. He's taking things too fast.
I can't do it. Adrenaline rushes through him like an avalanche, mind numbing horror at what he just tried to do, marked by terror that it didn't work. I can't ascend.
This is still all beyond him. He's an idiot, he curses his stupidity in his mind, over and over. He chokes back something that could have been a laugh, or a sob – it's overwhelming, he's walking the tightrope of the scope of the universe, and he can't even control himself.
He's scared. The understanding he has now is almost too much – he doesn't dare attempt to imagine what the knowledge granted by ascension would be like. The vast image of this cohesive energy – a scientific theory no longer, of that Rodney has no doubt – and his place in it... Either that or death; letting go, dispersing himself... where he is no longer whole, but bits and pieces, like the Replicators; replicated infinite times, in infinite fragments of energy that disperse and reform and are still whole– god, he imagines that it's been that way since the dawn of creation and it's all infinite forms, infinite consciousnesses and experiences and it's all contained, all infinite, inside everything, every little tiny piece, and he realizes where the feeling of the yawning, unending vastness came from, because the more he follows that train of thought the more overwhelming it becomes and the harder his heart pounds.
Rodney groans. I can't do this. It's too much. Too much to think about. It's beyond him to comprehend, to ascend – Elizabeth was right. Ancients dedicated their whole lives to reaching ascension and therefor had ample time to sort out these conflicting thoughts and be at peace with them. It would take Rodney a long, long time to be at peace with any of this and he's simply out of time.
"McKay!"
Rodney starts - the door to the balcony must have opened without him realizing it and Sheppard is at his side with alarming suddenness.
"God, McKay, don't scare me like that-" Sheppard says and kneels next to where Rodney is blinking owlishly up at him from the floor.
Rodney recoils. Heart still pounding, Sheppard is suddenly too there, too intrusive. "Go away," he croaks, closes his eyes and imagines that he's alone and hopes that Sheppard will comprehend and leave. He doesn't need this, not now, not when he came so close, not when he's still gathering the pieces of himself back together from trying to let them go.
Fat chance of that. Sheppard is radiating emotions like a sun; concern, trepidation, fear, uncertainty... Rodney is receiving it like a god damn antenna and he struggles to put a wall between himself and the Colonel before the unwanted input drives him mad. "Please, for the love of god, leave," he pleads and he feels more than sees Sheppard draw back indignantly.
"I'm not going anywhere." Sheppard says. "You're white as a sheet and you're trembling – what the hell happened to you, McKay? Is it what you did to Radek?" When Rodney doesn't answer, Sheppard says, "I'm calling Beckett-" and he reaches one hand up to his radio.
Rodney acts without thinking. He is floored by the thought of seeing Beckett again or the infirmary or Radek- his hand darts up and wraps around Sheppard's wrist, halting the motion. It was a stupid mistake, one Rodney will look back at and wince. As soon as his skin makes contact with Sheppard the connection forms and Rodney reels with the surge of knowledge the touch suddenly provokes, his protective walls crumbling like so much sand though his fingers – Sheppard is intrusive, his mind is pouring out information like a broken dam that Rodney is at the bottom off and he can't escape.
Rodney receives an incomprehensible jumble of information and emotions, heart rate, worry, breathless, concern, fear – it hits him like a sledgehammer and he recoils like he's been burned, gasping, heart pounding wildly in his chest and Sheppard's presence intruding on every inch of his mind.
Sheppard snatches his hand back, an expression of alarm flitting across his face, "Jesus, Rodney, what-"
Rodney flinches. Stupid, stupid, it was a stupid mistake-
"Touching is bad," Rodney rasps, and Sheppard is staring at him like he's realized that Rodney is made of glass and is going to shatter at the first rough wind.
"No fucking kidding, McKay," Sheppard snaps, in a voice that clearly wants answers. "What the hell did you just do?"
How Rodney is going to explain this is beyond him and he doesn't particularly feel like trying. "Nothing," he replies angrily, breathlessly. He has no idea what Sheppard felt and doesn't particularly care. Sheppard is currently a huge blip on his energy radar and he's struggling just being this close. He's not in the mood to keep Sheppard in close proximity longer that absolutely necessary.
"The hell it was nothing!" Sheppard 's eyes are simmering in anger. "There's something very wrong with you, McKay, and I want to know what it is."
"You caught me off guard." Rodney replies hollowly.
"McKay, all I did was touch you. And you-"
"Yes!" Rodney throws his hands up, "Super-sensitive being here. Were you not standing in the room when I touched Zelen-" Rodney blanches, trailing off, and Sheppard rocks slightly back on his haunches.
Rodney continues in a quiet, weary voice, "I don't know what's happening to me. I'm controlling it as best as I can, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I though I had it blocked off, I thought you were safe..."
Maybe it is his choice of words. Maybe Rodney isn't keeping as tight a reign on his emotions as he thinks he is. Whatever the reason, Sheppard suddenly leans forward insistently and says, "I would never hurt you, McKay. Ever."
They are both surprised at the vehemence in Sheppard's voice.
Rodney is momentarily speechless – Sheppard really did sound miserably apologetic and Rodney admits grudgingly, almost despite himself, "I know that. Really, I do. You just..." Rodney fumbles for words and finishes lamely, "caught me by surprise."
There is a pause that Rodney doesn't pretend isn't awkward, and he quickly redirects the conversation away. "Though was it utterly necessary for you to ninja onto my balcony? Have you ever heard of the word privacy? Consideration, maybe?" Rodney asks, assuming a mildly cross tone.
Sheppard raises an eyebrow. "I didn't 'ninja' onto this balcony, Rodney, I used the door. Which whooshes when it opens and I thought you had super hearing."
"Whooshes?" Rodney asks faintly and it takes a monumental effort not to sputter out a million different withering retorts.
"Yeah, whooshes." Sheppard says defensively, "Like," and precedes to make a whooshing sound with his mouth, complete with waving hand motion.
Rodney tries but doesn't quite manage to suppress a snort. "That sounds more like a lightsaber than a door opening. Leave the miming to the professionals, Colonel, I think my super hearing just heard Charlie Chaplin roll over in his grave."
Sheppard mutters something under his breath that Rodney clearly hears.
"I'm a padawan?" Rodney sputters, "What, you think you're the damn Jedi master? You spent six months with Ancients trying to ascend and I don't see you spouting any words of wisdom about balance and becoming one with the Force! You're the abysmal failure, not me!"
Sheppard raises his hands in mock surrender, "Fine, fine, I freely admit that I was never good at that whole balance thing and dropped out of the Academy. The dark side is strong within me."
"Kicked out, more like," Rodney mutters, "and I'd definitely qualify as a Jedi Master, thank you very much."
A pause. "What do I get to be, then?" Sheppard asks, rocking back on his heels like a petulant child, and Rodney rolls his eyes.
"God, you're so juvenile. If it makes you feel any better, you'd make a fantastic ewok-"
Sheppard makes an indignant noise and Rodney leans back, smiling apologetically. "Alright, alright, you can settle for Chewbacca, if it doesn't wound whatever shreds of pride you have left. You two have a lot in common, actually," Rodney begins to tick them off on his fingers, "You're bad ass, you blow a lot of stuff up, you fly cool ships that you then precede to break spectacularly." favoring Sheppard with a shrewd glance, Rodney continues, "Which, granted, you attempt to fix, albeit with all the finesse of hitting it with a blunt object and yelling incoherently. Your redeeming factor is that you have enough sense to leave the real work to the brains of the outfit while you stand in the back and look intimidating. The unruly hair is just the final nail in the coffin..."
Sheppard peers at him suspiciously, "Was there a complement buried in there somewhere?"
Rodney holds up a finger, "Ah, you must address me as Master or I shall reveal nothing."
"You wish," Sheppard mutters just loud enough for Rodney to hear. "If you ask me, you're more Darth Vader than anything."
"Oh har de har har."
There's another brief silence and Sheppard visibly gathers himself before asking, "You ready to go back?"
Momentarily not comprehending, Rodney stares at Sheppard before the implication of the question sinks in. Something like fear courses through him, "Absolutely not." The infirmary is the last place in the universe Rodney wants to go.
Sheppard pulls on his I'm-the-fucking-Colonel-and-you're-going-to-obey face, but Rodney has long been immune.
"There's no even remotely fathomable reason why I need to go back there." Rodney protests.
Sheppard points at where Rodney is sitting on the floor and says in even tones, "You were practically passed out there, McKay. Your face is as pale as a ghost and I can see you shaking from here."
Rodney crosses his arms defensively, knowing Sheppard is absolutely right. He can feel himself trembling and he can't make it stop. "I'm fine," he says anyway.
Sheppard doesn't believe him. Rodney knows as much, just as he knows that he failed to convince Sheppard with their brief back and forth. It was too strained, too unnatural. He suddenly knows exactly how to convince Sheppard and takes a precious moment to gather himself before leaning forward, lightning quick, and once more grabbing Sheppard's wrist.
Sheppard jerks in surprise, "What are you...," but the words trail off.
The connection is warm and nothing else. Rodney has control now and shuts everything out but the sensation. "See? I'm fine."
The look Sheppard gives him is only slightly grudging. "Still seeing Beckett."
Rodney grits his teeth. "Or what?" He's willing to fight this to the death and he hopes Sheppard can see that in his eyes.
"Or nothing. I'm asking you to do this for me."
That catches Rodney off guard. They stare at each other, neither backing down. Rodney has time to contemplate the offer. He doesn't want to estrange the Colonel. Not now. The thought of doing this alone, of having no one to fall back on, was more terrifying than going back to the infirmary.
It's an easy decision in the end. Lips twisting in distaste, Rodney lifts a hand to be helped up and Sheppard stands and grasps Rodney's wrist (nothing passes between them) and pulls him upright. When Rodney reaches his feet, he wavers uncertainly for a single damning moment, lightheaded, before Rodney releases the grip hastily, his cheeks reddening, and Sheppard looks away.
-to be continued
