Notes: These chapters are a bit shorter than my norm, however this story is complete and I'm just reposting it from ao3... so no complaints please.
Vancouver, Canada
Rodney sat cross-legged on the grass. His hands rested comfortably on top his knees and his eyes were closed. The air blew softly at his short-cropped hair, brushing his cheeks like a caress.
His breathing evened out into one slow lungful with each steady rise of his chest. The world was alive around him, brimming with energy. He felt the swaying of the plants besides him and just to his right a large, old tree rose with ancient wisdom towards the cloudless sky.
There were seeds of life within the leaves of that tree. Rodney felt the forces working on them, the pull of their connection to the twigs against the force of gravity. It was a perfect balance. All of the sudden one seed's restricting pull gave way and it fell, free to gravity's clutches. The friction of the air pushed against it, but not enough to stop its sudden inertia downwards. The seed hit the ground and bounced up, falling back down again to roll to a stop in the clump of grass.
Rodney felt a smile come over his lips. His internal stresses had subsided, the empty hole in his chest fading away just slightly as he was reminded of the life all around him.
A large energy source came to his awareness just as Rodney was about to come back up from his half-meditative state. His smile dropped and he opened his eyes. The world was a bright splash of color, but he didn't spend the time to appreciate it as he stood to face his unknown visitor.
Assistant Director Woolsey of the United States' FBI stood with his arms hanging loosely at his side from the side of Rodney's yard. "Dr. McKay."
"Woolsey," Rodney greeted back. "Are you guys even allowed to leave the country?"
"I'm FBI, not NSA," Woolsey rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at corner of his eyes.
"What's the situation?" Rodney asked, gesturing for Woolsey to come inside with him. He packed up his bag with efficient movements, too used to suddenly having to be flown to a new location to consult the varying levels of stupid law enforcement.
Despites Woolsey's stringent need to follow the rules, he was one of Rodney's favorites. But he would never tell the man that.
"I'll explain on the plane," Woolsey said. "But… it's not something any of us have encountered before."
Rodney frowned. "Any of your team?" he asked as he grabbed a couple pairs of ready-to-go suits.
"No," Woolsey stated. "Any of the FBI. Or the CIA for that matter."
Rodney froze. He stared down at his laptop, the proof he'd been working on just that morning staring back at him unfinished. He closed the machine and stuck it in its case. "And here I thought I might finally get some time to complete this proof," he muttered.
Woolsey didn't reply, instead leading Rodney towards the discrete black car, tinted windows blocking their faces as they climbed in.
..o..
District of Columbia, USA
Rodney stared down at the body lying prone on the concrete floor. It wasn't even the first time Rodney had done so, stared at a body on a hard, unforgiving floor. It wouldn't be last either, but this was a little different.
In his career as a sort of detecting consultant, Rodney had seen many gruesome deaths. Once, he'd had to consult on a case involving a demon whose sole purpose seemed to be ripping off the appendages of small children.
Rodney hadn't slept for weeks after that one, not even with the knowledge that said demon was well and truly dead.
And yeah, Rodney wasn't just called in for demons. Sometimes the FBI or the CIA or Interpol were struck by some common human murderer, but Rodney had learned in his teens not to underestimate mundanes.
Still, the shriveled mess in front of him was not made by any human. "You say this… man was a twenty-something college student?" Rodney repeated, turning from the wrinkled body to Woolsey.
Woolsey nodded, adjusting his glasses. Behind him, Caldwell of the CIA crossed his arms. Rodney raised an eyebrow at him, but resisted the urge to ask.
Rodney cleared his throat when it became apparent no one was going to say anything. "I've never seen demonic energy like this before," he admitted. "Do we have any intel on the thing that made this?"
"None," Woolsey said. "There have been no signs of suspicious activity, no sightings of demons in this city in the past week, even. At least, none that aren't already registered with the government."
"What we have been able to determine," Caldwell said suddenly. "Is that this… thing seems to follow normal human air traffic patterns. If it does use alternative forms of transportation, they aren't faster than a 747."
"So you want me to track it?" Rodney asked. He breathed in deeply and let the energy of the crime scene sink into him. It was hard, the scene wasn't very fresh and there were all sorts of emotions coming from both the men next to him and the other agents puttering around, snapping photos and bagging evidence.
Still, he could sense an undercurrent of something that felt almost hungry and it had him shivering slightly, pulling back on himself.
Woolsey was talking with an agent in hushed tones, but Caldwell watching him with interested eyes and Rodney glared. "Woolsey," he said, calling the FBI director back.
"Right," Woolsey nodded, waving the agent off. "Yes, we need you to follow its movements, see if you can get a read on the type of creature it is and who we can negotiate with to convince it to stop this, well these killings."
"And how many have we uncovered thus far?" Rodney asked.
"Not many," Woolsey admitted. "The files will be available to you as soon as you say you're on the case."
"And if we can't get it to stop," Rodney raised an eyebrow.
Caldwell huffed a harsh laugh. "Then we'll dispose of the demon as quickly as possible."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Done." He nodded to Woolsey. "I'll do it." It was an intriguing mystery if nothing else.
"You'll need a partner," Caldwell cut in before Woolsey could do anything more than let a look of relief pass over his face.
"I'm sorry," Rodney glared. "Need I remind you that I am perfectly capable of defeating one demon by myself, Agent Caldwell?"
"You misunderstand me, Dr. McKay," Caldwell began.
"No, you misunderstand," Rodney interrupted him. "Your government recruited me when I was fourteen. I've been working freelance for agencies all over the globe since I got my first PhD in Paranormal Containment. So do not tell me that I need some blind little junior agent bumbling his way through this investigation to help me." He paused. "Besides, you're CIA and last I checked demons inside the confinement of US borders are under FBI purview."
Caldwell's mouth had tightened grimly. "Sorry doc," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "But this one hasn't just struck the US. You get one of mine and you'll work with him, or I'll have the President himself order you."
"You forget, I'm still a Canadian citizen," Rodney told him.
"You have duel citizenship," Caldwell shot back. "And the President wants this thing to disappear as quickly as possible." He reached a hand out and a non-descript agent quickly put a file in it. He handed it over to Rodney, who took it reluctantly.
Rodney glanced at the name, no picture given, and then at the listed record. "Senior Agent John Sheppard?"
"I'm sure you'll get along marvelously," Woolsey stated, clasping his hands together.
Rodney stared, slightly horrified as Caldwell nodded.
..o..
"I just don't like it, Jennifer," Rodney said, switching the phone to his other ear. Files were laid out in front of him, images of old men and women who'd been, reportedly, far younger before they were killed at the hands of some demonic creature.
"Well if the President said…" Jennifer said on the other side of the line.
"Technically, Caldwell said," Rodney shrugged. "I want you as my medical examiner."
"Will the CIA accept me?" Jennifer asked. "I've only ever worked with the FBI."
"They owe me one now," Rodney stated. "Since I've agreed to this Sheppard."
"Stop making it sound like they've stuck you with a child." He could just hear her roll her eyes at him. "Okay, Rodney, you get it approved and I'll be your ME for this."
"Great," Rodney stated. There was no one he trusted more than Jennifer. And Carson, but Carson was… "How's Scotland treating Carson?"
Jennifer sighed sadly. "His mother's getting sicker each day. He's worried himself sick about it."
Rodney nodded, though his friend wouldn't be able to see. He'd never had a good relationship with his parents and Carson's love for his mother wasn't something he could sympathize well with.
Jennifer's voice came back on. "Listen, Rodney, I've got a surgery to perform so I'm gonna have to let you go. Good luck with the case."
"You'll be on it soon enough," Rodney told her.
"We'll see," Jennifer laughed. "Bye Rodney."
"Bye Jennifer," Rodney said. There was a beep signifying the end of the call and he pulled it away from his ear. He stared down at it for a moment, not for the first time wondering if they ever would have been a couple, had Rodney not been what he was.
But Rodney was a Guide. And Guides didn't date mundanes; they dated Sentinels with the thought of bonding. So what if Rodney had never found a Sentinel that hadn't bored him within minutes, he still wouldn't subjugate anyone to a half-relationship, especially not a girl as smart and beautiful as Jennifer.
Such was the life he'd learned to deal with. Rodney sighed, rubbing at his chest as if it could somehow ease the gaping hole inside him, but like so many times before he knew it wouldn't.