Title: Obvious Heart
Rating: PG/PG: 13
Pairings: McKay/Weir/Sheppard
Genre: Angst/Romance Songfic
Author's Note: Another little McWeir angst story… :) Can't get enough of those! Anyway, I hope you like… Please review!
Disclaimer: I own the story. The characters are © of MGM and the lyrics belong to Finger Eleven ("Obvious Heart").
Distribution: WeirMcKayship and here.
IMPORTANT: Recently it has come to my attention that this website is banning the use of non-original lyrics in stories, so as of the fourth of May, these have been deleted. I still believe that the story is more powerful with them and seeing as how it is a songfic, I wish I didn't have to because feels it unfit to use lyrics even when proper credit is given. Anyway, I suggest viewing this first chapter (the only part with lyrics) at my website. You can find the link in my profile. Once you get there, hit "Ficlets and Songfics" on the right hand side, scroll down and choose "Obvious Heart". The only reason I've decided to keep this up here is because the feedback system is a lot easier. Anyway, I'm sorry for the inconveinence, but I won't risk my account being deleted.
Rodney McKay sighed softly to himself as he looked over the rolling waves of the ocean surrounding Atlantis. The dark impressions rolled softly over one another, the rhythmic clash prodding him further into his state of melancholy. His hollow eyes roamed over the ominous, black expanses. 'It was bound to happen,' he thought to himself dismally. The dreaded day had finally come to Atlantis: Valentine's Day. Oh sure, the Hallmark holiday seemed innocent enough—but no more. The hearts no longer stood for deep love, no, now they symbolized wrenching anguish. Cupid was as sweet and innocent as Satan. Cute, wee Cupid no longer—unforgiving, abrasive meddler-of-affairs he was.
He had been a fool, to think that she had some interest in him! Rodney let out a long breath. His body felt wearier and heavier than it ever had, even after every tireless battle he had fought. The physical strain on his body felt then could not compare, no, it couldn't even come close to this, this…heartbreak. That felt strangely like the word he was searching for. But, no… He had never loved her for long enough…had he?
Try as he did to deny the jolting pain in his heart, it did him no good. Rodney had willingly, though not easily, let those dreadful, fateful words spill from the ink of his pen just hours earlier today—"I love you". Those were not words to be taken lightly, and take them lightly he did not. It seemed odd that such big words had been scrawled on such a small tag. The words themselves were not accompanied by anything but one single object; an object which he'd worked on for hours at a time.
It was a simple necklace to any passing eye—but not to him, and not to her, if she'd even seen it. He had worked and strived for hours to complete the small scene of the very balcony he stood on, the balcony that he and she had conversed for hours on end. It was, in a way, their little spot. But no… It wasn't their little spot anymore, now was it? That was characterized by her absence now. Her absence as she enjoyed the night of the hideous holiday with him. He, the man who had captured her affections. He, who could receive those three fateful words back from her. He, who, unlike Rodney, held her heart.
Rodney ran a hand over his hair, sighing once more. Deep circles cut deeper under his eyes as he gazed above at the stars. They twinkled mercilessly, mocking him with their joy. In those stabs of light he could see the scenes of earlier that day returning to torment him. He could see John Sheppard there, in the stars, with Elizabeth Weir, and he could see himself here, alone and broken…just as before. Rodney clenched his teeth tightly and leaned forward onto the banister of the balcony, feeling the small box in his pants pocket press into his thigh; a painful reminder of what could have been…what should have been…
McKay had been so prepared, for once, to spill his feelings. He had finally gathered up the courage to tell Elizabeth everything. He had finally gathered up the guts to tell her what he felt for her—to tell her that he loved her. His feet had taken him on a course guided by memory, his heart pounding in his chest. But instead of the good that he had convinced his heart would come of the trip, he was left with the opposite. A large, intimidating present opened at Christmastime…with nothing inside. No, that was being generous. It would have been enough simply if Elizabeth didn't feel the same way, but this? This was much, much worse. John Sheppard had beaten Rodney to Elizabeth's office…and apparently to her heart. Rodney could not and would not know what had gone on between the two…but a picture was worth one thousand words, was it not? And the picture, the burning, scalding memory of walking in to see their lips touching, their arms intertwined…that was worth more than a thousand words—and more than one thousand tears.
Cruel Cupid was just as merciless as those ever-twinkling stars… The only thing that would cure him of his heartbreak had caused it, just as the only cure was his poison. Innocent Cupid dwelled in paradoxes and brutality, not love and beauty.
'Where is she now?' he wondered, the thought grating on a sore, blistered thread of his heart. How obvious the answer was, how painful… 'She's probably in his arms right now,' he thought bitterly. It struck him that he was jealous—but he didn't care. Did he not have the right to be? Something he lived for, craved for, risked his life for; this potential budding love, had been taken out from beneath him, swept away to be planted in someone else's life. How was he not to be jealous?
It was the look in Elizabeth's eyes as she turned, seeing him there, that burned in his mind the most. The guilt, the surprise… Resentful, shallow thoughts stirred to mind but died quickly before they could even reach his lips. Had she been guilty because it wasn't a scene he was supposed to walk in on, or was it because she knew how he felt? His hand reached into his pocket and he closed his fist tightly around the box, feeling it bend beneath his fingers. Bitterness rose in his throat when he decided that it must be the first. How would she feel now, he wondered, if she knew the truth? Rodney took the necklace out of his pocket and out of the box, examining it in the garish moonlight. It seemed now a waste of his time, a waste of his heart… 'Why did I even try?' Rodney thought to himself bitterly, staring at the pendant. His face twisted in fury: at himself, at Elizabeth, at John, at the world… Rodney clenched his fist and, in one frustrated, impulsive moment, threw the necklace over the balcony. He watched, his limbs trembling with a mix of emotions, as the silvery chain dissolved into the frigid night air.
