Chapter Seven: The Way We Were
This must be the place, and still
Somehow it don't seem right
That something in the moon
Could change these endless days
To lonely nights
- The Pogues, Blue Heaven
Kate was true to her word and within two days, Rodney was standing in front of the Stargate, watching it shimmer and swirl in front of him. Thankfully, Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla were out on a mission, so he didn't have to bother with awkward goodbyes, something he had never been great at.
How would he have done it anyway? 'I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown, I'm slightly homesick, and oh, by the way, I'm pregnant?' That would've gone down well.
Slinging his pack over his shoulder, Rodney stepped through the Stargate without looking back to where he knew Sam and Kate were watching him from the overhead balcony. It was time to get free of the Stargate Command for awhile and get some perspective. And then he would decide what he would do after that.
Getting through the complex and Cheyenne Mountain was easier than he had anticipated. He went through the necessary paperwork and within a day he was stepping outside into the bright sun shine. For a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring the fresh air and sunlight. Then he was being bundled into a car and on his way to the airport.
It was a long and harrowing flight back to Canada during which Rodney found it impossible to get comfortable. He spent much of the journey looking out the window at the clouds cruising by, and the green stretch of the land below. It was so different from Atlantis that it felt...strange to be back, as if he was stuck somewhere that he shouldn't have been. He realized that Earth no longer felt like his home anymore, and that thought sickened him to the core; Atlantis was his home, and if he could never return there, then he would be royally screwed, wouldn't he?
After his embarrassing episode in Dr Heightmire's office a couple of days ago he had felt like he was off beat, as if the people around him were moving to one beat together, but he was out of time and out of place. He felt empty, all his previous anger and grief having been numbed by something infinitely more terrifying.
Touching down in Canada signaled the end of a long trip, literally from a galaxy away. He wanted nothing more than to collapse somewhere and sleep for the next two days, and his stomach was churning unpleasantly, but he still had a ways to go. So he collected his luggage and stepped out into the Canadian sunshine and signaled a cab.
The cabin sat on the edge of a lake that reflected the sky. There was a short, graveled driveway that led down to a dirt road and beyond that lay a wooden jetty that led out to the water. On the end of the jetty was a wooden bench, perfect for sitting there and fishing, if Rodney had been into that kind of thing.
There was a small front garden that was in bloom, with bright, fresh flowers releasing a tantalizing scent that teased his nose every time he set foot outside. The cabin itself was wooden, with a small porch and old, soft chairs on the porch that faced towards the vast blue lake. Inside the cabin was a different story.
There was a huge kitchen, and a living room to die for, enormous, plushy couches, a massive plasma TV and a monstrous fireplace. The bathrooms were luxurious (there were two) both with spa baths and large shower stalls with multiple nozzles. There were three bedrooms; two with king sized double beds and one with two single beds. All three had double doors leading to the outside, and all came equipped with TVs, stereos and cable TV.
It was really too big for one person, but that didn't bother Rodney at all. He had more than enough money, and he needed the space. The thing was though, that it was so completely different from Atlantis that it might just be what he'd needed. After all, he'd been experimented on by aliens, had an alien device planted within him and by some freaking use of advanced technology was now carrying a ch...fetus within himself, and finding such a secluded and peaceful place was enough of a sanctuary that he could forget for a little while.
The cabin was a ten minute drive from a small, rural town with everything he could possibly need. After the first two days by himself, either sitting out by the lake or relaxing inside with the television on, he started to feel guilty. He knew that John had been in contact with Jeannie pretty frequently since he'd been found, and she knew that he was still alive but she was probably wondering why he hadn't contacted her. The truth was that he wasn't ready to face his younger sister. Sure, they'd started to repair their long ago fractured relationship after that whole split reality thing, but he wasn't sure she'd be willing to forgive this most recent crime of his.
It wasn't until he was five days in that he finally started to feel lonely. Coincidently, it was then that one John Sheppard showed up at his door. He was beginning to think that the man had some sort of inbuilt sensor that kept track of him and his moods.
He wasn't exactly at his best when he answered the door, dressed in ratty old cargos, and a plain sweater; he'd been lounging around the house for most of the day, so he was unshaven and his hair was sticking up at odd angles, but even with that he looked better than John did.
The man's hair seemed duller than it usually did, his eyes lined with darkened circles that spoke of his fatigue. There was a huge duffle bag sitting at his feet, but the most shocking of all was the fact that there were two crutches under his arms, and he was favoring his left leg.
"Uh..." was the only thing he could think of to say.
"Hello to you too Rodney," John smiled, but it was utterly fake and devoid of any warmth. "Mind if I come in?"
And with that he swung forward, forcing Rodney to step back to allow him inside. Rodney stared after his friend, who was in the process of looking around, in shock and was fully aware of the awful fluttering of nervousness in his belly. Hastily, he grabbed John's duffle and shut the door, more loudly than he had intended to.
John whistled as he took in his surrounds.
"Quite the set up you've got for yourself here, Rodney," John said, a small smile on his face. "It's a little...big, for just one person isn't it?"
Rodney just stood behind him, fidgeting with the straps of John's bag.
"Everything's okay at Atlantis, isn't it?" he blurted eventually. "Everyone's okay?"
John swung around to look at him, and that hard, blank look on his face softened a little. It didn't take a genius like Rodney to figure out that he was pissed and a little disgruntled about something, and he knew that it was because of him that John had showed up in such a state. It made him uneasy and vulnerable, and more than a little self conscious, standing there in his scruffy clothes and facing down John's barely contained anger. He felt like a little kid who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner, although he knew that it was slightly worse than that.
"Everyone's fine Rodney," John replied, studying him steadily for a long moment before walking slowly a few steps further into the living room. Rodney had to admit, John got around on those crutches with an ease that was almost enviable. John was nothing if not adaptable, and it was intriguing to watch him adapt to any surroundings or situations.
"Good," he sighed, relived. "That's good."
He cleared his throat as John moved slowly around his temporary abode.
"So uh...what happened to you then?" he asked nervously as he cast about for a place to put John's bag down.
"That mission I was on when you left," John said, shooting him a pointed look. "It didn't turn out so well. I dislocated my knee while we were making a run for the gate. Ronon had to carry me back through."
"That bad huh?"
"Keller took me off active duty for a few weeks so I figured I'd come back to Earth and get a few things sorted out," John continued, ignoring his interruption. "The first of which is you."
"Me?!" Rodney practically squeaked. "Why? What did I do?"
John was facing him once more, leaning on his crutches casually. The anger on his face contradicted the ease in his stance, and that threw Rodney off a bit.
"You tell me, Rodney. What could you have possible done to make me so...?" He trailed off, obviously waiting for him to finish his sentence.
"Mad?" Rodney swallowed, knowing that his face was flushed and his eyes were wide. He backed away as John advanced until he hit the kitchen counter. "Look, I know you're mad at me and I..."
"Save it, Rodney," John growled, at last coming face to face with him. His scowled was fierce and Rodney cringed against the counter. "The fact is you ran away without saying a goddamn thing to me or anyone else. We're a team, and you can't just do things like that, no matter what happens. How am I supposed to feel when you just up and disappear without telling me? It was a lousy thing to do, and you know it."
"Yes, okay, okay, I know, alright?" Rodney held up his hands, before running one hand through his hair. "I know that, and I'm sorry. But it's hard for me to...I needed to get away for awhile, and what was I supposed to say? 'Hi, John, I need to take some time off so I can curl up in a corner and have a...a breakdown of some kind?' Would you have let me go if I'd said something like that?"
John was frowning at him as he talked. "Well..."
"You wouldn't. And I needed some time, okay? Just...give me this. I need some time to sort through everything and I can't do that if I'm constantly worried about things going wrong at Atlantis."
"I understand that Rodney, but you can't keep running away like this," John insisted.
Rodney scowled and turned away from him to look out the window over the mist covered lake.
"I'm not running away," he muttered.
"Really? Because it looks that way to me."
"I'm not, okay?" Rodney snapped, turning around.
"Are you going to stay? Here, I mean, on Earth." John's voice was steady, but Rodney caught a hint of something in his eyes that he thought was close to vulnerability and almost fear. He couldn't quite put his finger on it though, so after a minute, he let it pass without further thought.
"I don't think so, no." Rodney scoffed. "You think I can stay here, knowing what I know and just live my life out like everyone else? Besides, it's not like I'm...normal anymore is it?"
That seemed to appease John, because he relaxed and his anger faded. He slumped a little heavier on his crutches and ran a hand through his hair.
"Okay," he nodded. "Look, I didn't mean to burst in here like this and just start yelling at you. I didn't plan for it to go like this so...I'm sorry, okay? It's been a long trip and I'm just about beat..."
"Say no more, John," Rodney managed a small smile. He tucked his trembling hands into his arm pits, sort of hugging himself. "How long are you staying?"
"Well," John seemed hesitant. "I was thinking about dropping in on my brother."
There was something else though, Rodney could sense it. And he wanted answers of his own, because John was becoming like his own personal plague, a pleasant, haunting beautiful and sexy plague, granted, but a plague nonetheless.
"Why did you follow me here? Besides wanting to yell at me I mean," Rodney asked. "Because it's really not that hard to pick up a phone, you know. And they even have these hands free deals now and that's just really..."
"Look, you're my best friend, okay?" John seemed a trifle irritated. "And I don't care what you think of me, I'm not going to leave you alone to deal with your problems. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make this better and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me. That's what friends do. They don't back down as soon as things get rough."
Rodney, a little stunned by this outburst of John's just stared at the man in shock for a long moment, until John started to look uncomfortable. His words had caused a slow curl of heated pleasure in his belly, and he tried not to let the giddy happiness show on his face too much. Trying to scowl unsuccessfully he pushed himself off the counter.
"Well, you're doing a brilliant job of that, aren't you?" he said. "I think you've elevated it to a whole new level of stalking."
A broad grin broke out on John's face, made all the sweeter by the exhaustion and lines of pain on his face.
"So I can stay?" he asked, looking like a little kid who'd just been given a new puppy.
"As long as you want," Rodney waved a nonchalant hand at him as he started to fill the kettle. "I doubt there's much I could do to keep you away."
"Great. So, you wanna show me around this place? It's like a fucking palace..."
"After you have a shower," Rodney called after him as he stumped his way back into the living room. "I don't need your grubby hand prints over everything. It'll come out of the security deposit, you know."
"Yeah, yeah," cam John's muffled reply.
He set the kettle on to boil and turned the oven on. It looked like he'd be cooking for two for a change, and he tried to quell his joy at the prospect. It wouldn't do to go looking too deeply into something as innocent as a little companionship.
"Hey, Rodney," John reappeared, his duffle swung over one shoulder, the crutches didn't seem to hinder his progress in the slightest.
"Hm?" he looked over his shoulder from where he was preparing two cups of coffee.
"This doesn't have to be so complicated, you know," he said slowly. "You're over thinking things too much."
Rodney looked back out the window and listened to John crutching towards the bathroom, trying to ignore the clenching of his gut at reality took over once more.
As usual, it was a lot more complicated than John suspected. His hand crept down and rest on his belly momentarily. A lot more complicated, he amended silently.
Sometimes, he thought to himself, life sure knew how to bite you in the ass.
While John was in the shower (and Rodney was trying desperately not to think about a wet, naked John Sheppard), he had put a frozen pizza in the oven and was sitting curled up on the couch in front of the TV thinking. Some old movie was playing, but he wasn't watching it at all.
Half an hour later, John emerged from the shower, his hair still damp and dressed in boxers and a t-shirt. His crutches were no where in sight and Rodney watched critically as he limped over to the couch and collapsed on the other end.
"Are you sure you should be walking around like that?" he asked, eying John as he grimaced and rubbed at his knee.
"Probably not. It still hurts like hell," he admitted as he slouched back against the soft cushions and put his feet on the glass coffee table.
"Then why are you..." Rodney shook his head. "Never mind. I put a pizza in the oven. Is that ok?"
"It sounds perfect. Do you know how long it's been since I last had pizza?" John asked with a grin as he picked up the remote.
"I can only guess." Rodney replied with a grimace.
They spent the next half an hour talking about things of little consequence and flipping through the channels to see what was on offer. Rodney was easily lulled back into that sense of security he had whenever John was around. That old familiarity was like a soothing balm over a bad burn and Rodney felt as relaxed as he had ever been.
He realized that he felt so much better with someone around- not to mention the fact that it was John- and he hadn't been aware of just how lonely he had been since arriving back on Earth. John's arrival and their subsequent argument/discussion had opened his eyes to a whole new realm of possibilities; that he wasn't as alone as he had thought he was, that maybe, just maybe, John needed him as much as he needed John. It was humbling and exhilarating at the same time.
"So I have something else I wanted to ask you," John said conversationally, as they indulged in pizza and hot chips in front of the TV.
"Oh no," Rodney sighed. "I thought we had already done all that deep and meaningful stuff already."
John grinned as he stuffed his mouth full of pizza.
"Oh that's disgusting." Rodney wrinkled his nose. "I'd ask where you learned your manners from, but I suspect the answer would be in a barnyard."
"Close enough. So," John swallowed. "I was wondering when you were going to call your sister."
It took a moment for what he had said to sink in properly.
"Oh you didn't," Rodney groaned. "Please tell me you didn't."
"I did." John had the good grace to look slightly ashamed. "But only to let her know that I was back in the country and to check up on her. That's all, I swear. I thought you would already have called her, is all. And when she asked me how you were..."
"She knows I'm back," Rodney stated. He dropped the last of his pizza back onto his plate and set it down on the table. The ramifications of John's actions were many and varied. He suspected he was in for a painful grilling from his outspoken sister, possibly involving various punishment in the form of spending time with Madison and eating Caleb's tofurkey. And buying lots of expensive gifts.
"I really am sorry," John said, although there wasn't a trace of remorse in his voice whatsoever. "But don't you think it's time you called her?"
"No," Rodney replied sullenly, dropping his head back against the cushions of the couch and staring at the ceiling. "I haven't really had the time..."
"You mean you haven't had the balls," John interrupted.
Rodney frowned as a flash of shame and pain gripped him. Swallowing, he tried to ignore it but was mostly unsuccessful.
"Sorry Rodney," John touched his arm. "I didn't mean it like that. It was just me putting my foot in my stupid mouth again..."
"No, you're right," Rodney tried to smile. "I just don't know what to say to her. How do I tell her about…this?"
"Why don't you just start by letting her know you're alive and that you're...relatively okay?" John suggested. "I mean, I can't imagine she would judge you. She thought you were dead and she missed you terribly."
"How can you miss someone who was never around?" Rodney smile bitterly at the ceiling. "I only wish I had been a better brother to her. Or maybe I should have stayed out of her life completely. Then she wouldn't have to deal with all my warped emotional baggage."
"She missed you because she knew that if she wanted to talk to you, all she had to do was make a few calls, and she couldn't do that once you were presumed dead. That security was taken from her. Start by picking up the phone, Rodney. The rest will work itself out. Let Jeannie decide for herself how she feels about you. But I think you'll be surprised once you talk to her."
Rodney spent another five minutes thinking about what John had said, and trying to work up the courage to pick up the phone and dial her number, which he had memorized years ago. Remembering numbers had never been a problem for him, even when he'd been little.
Eventually, he heaved himself out of the comfort of the couch and picked up the phone. John, who had been absorbed in the trashy TV show they'd settled on, looked up at him with a questioning look in his eyes.
"I'm going to call her. I think," Rodney said nervously as he picked up the cordless phone from its cradle.
John beamed at him as he stretched his long length out on the couch.
"Good boy."
He scowled at him as he headed for the porch.
"Play nice, Rodney," John called to him.
"Yeah yeah."
He closed the door behind him and settled onto the porch swing, tucking his feet up underneath him. The moon was huge and hanging low in the sky, and Rodney spent a few minutes thinking about just how different it was from Atlantis. He was procrastinating though, and he knew that while it might delay the inevitable tongue-lashing that was sure to follow, it wouldn't make it any easier. It was best to get it over with, like ripping off a band aide. The quicker you did it, the less it hurt.
With that thought in his mind, he dialed her number and held his breath as it started to ring.
His heart dropped and his courage faltered with each ring, and he was about to hang up when someone answered.
"Hello?"
For a moment he was surprised speechless by the little girl's voice, and it took a moment for it to register than he was speaking to Madison, his little niece.
"Uh...hi," he replied after a pause. "Hi, Madison, is your mum home?"
"Yep. Who's this?" the bright little voice asked in return.
In the back ground, he could hear Jeannie asking Madison who it was and he ached at the sound of her faint voice.
'It's...it's your Uncle. Rod...Meredith. It's your Uncle Mer," he replied thickly, his throat tightening. "Can I speak to your mom?"
"Sure."
The phone was dropped abruptly, and Rodney winced and pulled the phone away from his ear.
"MOM!! It's Uncle Mer!!" Madison shrieked and Rodney listened, unable to keep the smile from his face as he listened to her thudding around. There was more scrambling and then silence.
"Mer?" Jeannie's voice was breathless, and the hope he heard there made his chest tighten and his heart thud painfully in his chest.
"Hi, Jeannie. It's me," he managed to say after a moment.
"Meredith," his name was said on a soft exhaled. "You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. I've missed you. I thought you were gone forever. When they told me..."
Rodney stayed quiet, smiling as he listened to her familiar babble. Always, she had had that tendency to let her words overtake her, to let them tumble out of her mouth with barely a pause from breath. It was overwhelming and heartbreaking and a relief to hear her voice that he didn't mind listening for once instead of trying to interrupt, as he always used to.
Eventually, she slowed down and paused.
"How are you, Mer? Are you okay?"
He exhaled loudly, knowing she could hear and not caring. Rodney stared up at the moon and wondered if she was looking at it as well. It was full and bright, and its peaceful serenity washed over the lake before him.
"I'm not really sure at the moment. But I...I like to think I will be," he replied truthfully. It was so much easier to speak the truth over the phone, where no one could see your face or watch you. He wondered if that was cowardly of him, but decided that he didn't care.
"What happened to you Mer? They...they told me you were MIA, that you...that you'd bee..." her breathing hitched. "I'm sorry...This is hard for me. I mourned for you for months Mer. I kept thinking...I needed to know what had happened, but no one would tell me."
"I can't tell you over the phone," Rodney replied, regret piling in his chest and forming a tight ball that was threatening to choke him. "A lot has happened, Jeannie. I'm not the same person I was and I...I don't know if..."
She sighed again, sounding tired and stressed. "I didn't think you could tell me. I thought it might be classified..."
"It isn't," Rodney said, unable to stop himself. "It hasn't even been put in the reports."
"But...that doesn't make any sense, Mer. Why would they do that? Unless it's something..."
"They're trying to protect me," Rodney admitted, unable to find any more words than that. The enormity of what had been done to him had hit him a long time ago, but there were times when it caught him off guard and he wondered if it really had happened.
Jeannie was quiet, and Rodney could hear her breathing. In the background he could hear Caleb talking to Madison, and his eyes stung at the normalcy of it all. He really was glad that she had found something she had always wanted and made it work for her. If he was honest with himself, all he had wanted was to see her happy, even though he wasn't himself.
"It doesn't really change anything though," he told her quietly after a few minutes of the quiet. "I'm back now. And I just wanted to let you know that I'm...I'm safe now. I missed you Jeannie and I've thought about you...a lot since..."
"I missed you too Mer. It's good to hear your voice," she whispered, her voice hitching. He knew that she was trying not to cry and smiled, feeling a little misty eyed himself. She had always hated crying when they were young, hated being so vulnerable and so weak, and he knew that she was like him in that respect. She would fight and fight and keep being angry just so she wouldn't dissolve into tears. It had always broken his heart to see her cry because it meant that she had given up and was at the end of her tether.
"Where are you staying? Did John find you?" She asked suddenly, her voice growing firmer.
"I uh, I found a little place by this lovely lake. It's peaceful," he replied, looking around. "John arrived tonight. I think he means to keep an eye on me."
"Yeah well, someone has to keep you out of trouble. What's the address?"
Reluctantly, he gave it too her, a small suspicion forming in his mind.
"I'll be there tomorrow," she informed him suddenly.
"What? Why?" he asked. "You don't have to..."
"Of course I do. I'll call you when I'm close."
And with that she hung up. Rodney sat there for a full five minutes, staring at the phone in shock before the irritation set in. Scowling, he got up and went back inside, throwing the phone onto one of the arm chairs.
"How'd it go?" John asked slowly.
"This is your fault. If you hadn't insisted that I call her this wouldn't be happening." he glared at the decidedly remorseless Colonel sitting on his couch, looking comfortable and relaxed.
"What wouldn't be happening? What did I do this time?"
"'Oh, you have to call her Rodney, she's been missing you so terribly'!" Rodney mimicked, throwing his hands up as he stomped to the kitchen to fetch a couple of bags of Doritos. "Now she's got it in her head that she needs to 'look after' me, because apparently, I'm incapable of doing so myself. Now she's coming to visit us. Tomorrow!"
"I would have thought that's a good thing, Rodney. Haven't you been missing her?"
Rodney glared at him even harder and threw a packet of Doritos at his head. Laughing, John caught them.
"Shutting up now."
There's no noise where he is, no background hum of machinery, no voices or sounds of people living their lives. It scares Rodney more than it should have, bought back feelings of childhood uneasiness, because in the McKay Household, silence was the beginning of another argument and another battle.
But this particular battle is one that he doesn't know how to fight. There's no way for him to insult or shout his way out of this one. He can rage all he likes against the blank, masked faces but it brings no reward. Silence is one of his only companions, and it's this that Rodney finds the hardest to live with.
Atlantis is too far away to think about and Rodney is still alone.
He starts to wonder when his time would start running out. There's only so much one person can take before he loses his mind and Rodney's not sure if it's the time between each examination or the silence of the night that will finally make him crack.
Atlantis is too far away for him now.
Rodney wakes up to John's hands on his shoulders and the light of the lamp beside his bed. He's breathing hard, as if he'd just run ten miles, and the sweat makes his shirt cling to his body unpleasantly.
"Hey there buddy," John soothes. "You're safe now, you're safe."
He felt anything but safe. All he wanted to do was bury himself in the blankets and cry himself back to sleep; desperate, lonely, heartbroken tears that would do nothing to make it better except exhaust him so he could sleep again.
Looking up into John's concerned, warm eyes, no words came to him. The misery curled in his chest made talking impossible.
"You okay? Do you need anything?" John asked, his hands still curled around Rodney's shoulders.
Rodney manages to shake his head, but he curls a hand around John's forearm and looks up at him like he's a lifesaver saving a drowning man's life.
"Can you...please...would..." Rodney swallows, almost choking on the words and they stick in his throat, but John seems to understand because he nods and sits down on the edge of the bed.
"Sure, buddy. I'll stay with you for awhile," he squeezes Rodney's shoulder and gently guides him back down to the mattress, pulling the tangled blankets straight and covering Rodney's shivering form. "Just close your eyes."
There's a clicking sound as the light is turned off, and Rodney rolls over and curls up into a tormented little ball, hugging himself tightly. John settles against the headboard, a hand resting on Rodney's arm.
They were just two friends in the dark together; fending off the demons that haunted them both, and all that mattered to Rodney was that he wasn't alone any more.
As before, sleep claimed him quickly and he slipped back into sleep with John by his side.
The next morning, awareness jolted Rodney awake unpleasantly. John was long gone; he'd probably slipped back to his room after he'd fallen asleep again. Within moments of waking, he was making a mad dash for his bathroom.
He disguised the sound of throwing up by flushing the toilet, because he had no doubt that John was probably already awake. Once the violent rebellion of his stomach had settled down, Rodney slumped against the wall next to the toilet, feeling weak and shaky. His stomach was still rolling unpleasantly but thankfully there was nothing left for him to expel.
He carefully pulled himself up, very much aware of his tender stomach and moved slowly over to the sink. If this was how pregnant women felt then he could fully sympathize with their cravings and mood swings. He methodically washed out his mouth and brushed his teeth before staggering out of the bathroom and back to his bed, where he collapsed with a groan, burying his face in the rumpled blankets. Feeling the exhaustion weigh down his limbs and trying to ignore the horrible burning in his throat, he crawled back under the covers and prayed for sleep once more.
It didn't come easily. Rodney dozed on and off fitfully until well past eleven, but it didn't make him feel much better. If anything, it made him more tired, and by the time eleven thirty rolled around, he decided that he'd had enough.
He dragged himself out of bed, feeling irritable and tired, but his stomach had settled down at least. The bathroom was a disorganized mess, but somehow he managed to navigate his way through the scattered clothes and bags to the shower, which he turned on as hot as it would go. He cursed explicitly when he first stepped in as the hot water stung his skin, but after a few minutes he grew accustomed to the heat and started to enjoy it.
Rodney washed himself thoroughly, wanting to get rid of the remnants of his nightmare. He paused slightly when he washed his stomach though; it looked as it always had, apart from the faded scar. There was no evidence that there was anything wrong inside of him, or that there was a very tiny life forming.
In fact, if evidence didn't claim otherwise, he would have believed that Keller had made a mistake. But Rodney was a scientist, and he had to believe the facts. The throwing up every morning, and the queasiness were classic signs of pregnancy and there was no denying that.
Sitting down on the shower floor, Rodney hugged his knees and let the hot water rain down over him. The heat and the steam were making him feel a little better, but his mood wasn't improving at all.
Rodney felt helpless. He felt like he was trying to swim against a rapid river, but the waves kept washing over his head and he had to keep fighting for air. When he had been taken, he had been sure that his life was over; the long months following were spent with him in constant turmoil. He wished for it to end, so he wouldn't have to keep facing the uncertainty of his fate, but at the same time he had fought to survive, not wanting them to have the satisfaction of defeating him.
When he had been rescued, he had floundered for a little while, wondering how he could move on after such a narrow escape with his life. He had thought that it was finally over, after long suffering through months of his horrible ordeal. It hadn't taken long for things to spiral out of control, first with the device and then with the failed operation to remove it, and finally, with this latest blow, the pregnancy. And he wasn't a stupid man; he knew the odds of any sort of abortion were extremely low. Having said that though, who was to say that the walking experiment he had turned into wouldn't end up a failed one? It was, after all, a piece of technology only in it's experimental stages, and he knew more than anyone else that experiments can and did terminate unexpectedly on a rather regular basis. But it was his life that hung in the balance, and he could either come out of the entire thing relatively unharmed, or he could die. He wasn't going to disillusion himself at that.
Rodney had started to wonder if the rescue effort that John had mounted was worth it after all. Maybe it would have been better for all parties concerned if he had remained a captive. But then, he could dimly remember the look on John's face as he had stumbled across Rodney's prone form, and the joy there when he realized that he had, and Rodney wasn't sure if he could have denied John that.
He pressed his face against his bony knees and closed his eyes. He couldn't remember much of anything, and he hadn't been able to in the days that had followed his rescue. Long before the rescue team had found him, Rodney had been kept on a constant stream of drugs, most didn't affect him much physically, asides from the odd bout of mild nausea and sleepiness, but there were a few that knocked him completely on his ass.
He had to assume that he'd been given one of those not long before the rescue team had arrived, because the odd bits and pieces he did remember were shrouded in weird colored lights and sounds that rang funnily in his ears. Even those bits he did remember were warped, and he had a hard time trying to figure out what had actually happened and what hadn't.
What he did remember was fleeting glimpses of John and some of the other marines who had been on the team. He knew that they had spoken to him, asked him questions, but he had been drugged to his eyeballs and mostly unconscious. He hadn't worked up enough courage to read the mission report just yet.
Rodney opened his eyes, heedless of the water running into them, and tried desperately to remember something.
…noise, there was lots of noise…and shouting, voices yelling, explosions and loud banging….
He closed his eyes again as jumbled memories invaded his mind.
A familiar face leaning over him, with dark hair and dark eyes.
Words falling all around him like dying autumn leaves, spoken in a language that seemed so foreign and yet familiar all at once; and the iron-clad certainty that he had finally died, and that he was stuck in some twisted afterlife….
Fiery orange lights, screaming, sparks raining down around him….
And that familiar face, those kind eyes looking down at him with a smile on his face that seemed to offer him hope, in a place where there had been none.
An angel….
His name was John Sheppard.
When Rodney emerged from the shower, his eyes were red from the water and his tears, but he couldn't find the energy to care. He dressed slowly, pulling on old sweat pants that were probably long past their use by date, an even older t-shit and a warm hooded jumper and tried to remember the last time he had felt so tired. It was a bone deep weariness that seemed to stay with him, sapping his energy and taking the joy out of anything that might have held any ounce of it. His mind was blessedly empty for a change; there were no dark memories lingering on the edge of his mind, no unwanted thoughts trying to invade his fragile equilibrium. He needed to keep it together for just a little longer. If he could do that, then maybe something would finally change, some undetectable balance would shift and things would feel like they were getting back normal at last.
Rodney was waiting for something, but for a change he didn't have a clue what it was. It was a little anti climatic really, waiting constant for something that never arrived. Maybe it was that old instinct of his that kept him on high alert as he waited for the next crisis to strike, except that nothing ever did anymore. He wasn't in Pegasus anymore, he wasn't living on the edge out on the front lines where every day was another struggle to survive.
As Rodney half-heartedly ran a towel over his damp hair, he wondered how John coped with that instinct. Because he was military and they were always the suspicious types. How did John bide his time between one disaster and the next?
Knowing John as well as he did, he probably just ambled along, taking his time in that annoying way of his, and when something happened, he just dealt with it. There was no great panic, no flurry of confusion; he knew what he had to do and he just did it. Once it was over and done with, it was like a switch flipped and he was back to his old laid back self.
Rodney made his way through the quiet house to the kitchen, where he found coffee brewed and waiting for him on the bench. Surprised, he poured himself a cup and added sugar and milk before he heard the faint sound of music. He followed it to the porch, where John sat on one of the chairs, idly carving away at a piece of wood, a half empty cup of coffee on a small table and a small cd player beside him.
"Morning," John smiled at him when he opened the door.
"Morning," Rodney mumbled in reply as he made his way to the small couch near john. Carefully, he set his cup down and gingerly lowered his sore body onto the soft cushions. His eyes were dry and gritty, his muscles were aching and he had a headache building behind his eyes.
John seemed to take his moodiness in stride because he just smiled and kept whittling away at his chunk of wood.
The day was overcast, and a light, steady rain was falling. Tendrils of mist curled over the smooth surface of the lake. It was chilly out, and Rodney grabbed a tasseled blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and wrapped himself in it.
Rodney secretively watched John's long fingered and graceful hands as they turned the wood this way and that, the knife in his hands flicking quickly over the wood as if it were a natural extension of his arm. He made it look so simple and effortless, but Rodney knew that what he was doing required a lot of skill and concentration. It figured that John would be the kind of person who was good at carving things; it was the kind of useless yet oddly fascinating skill that Rodney had come to associate with him.
Watching John's hands as he worked sent a thrill of heat through Rodney. Those deft, competent hands were capable of anything, and there was an odd beauty in them that made him wonder just what else they would be good at. He indulged briefly in wondering what they would feel like on his body, running over skin and handling him in the same skillful way that he was handling that piece of wood.
He forced his thoughts in a different direction quickly enough though, before he became uncomfortable in ways that he didn't need in front of the very object of his thoughts. Feeling suddenly unwell again, Rodney lay down on the couch and curled up underneath his warm blanket, watching Johnands as he listened to the quiet music.
He found himself tantalized by both, and it wasn't long before he was slipping into a doze, his weary body and mind lulled by the music, John's quiet humming and the sound of the rain on the roof. He was warm and comfortable and he probably wouldn't move even if someone planted dynamite underneath him.
Long as I remember the rains been coming down.
Clouds of mystery pouring, confusion on the ground.
Good men through the ages, trying' to find the sun;
And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?
Rodney burrowed deeper into his pillow as the sound of John's quiet singing finally lulled him into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Heard the singers playing, how we cheered for more.
The crowd had rushed together, trying' to keep warm.
Still the rain kept pouring', falling' on my ears.
And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?
"Rodney…" someone was whispering in his ear, and Rodney was gently shaken out of sleep. Groggily, he lifted his head and was treated to the sight of his sister's bright blond curls and her blinding smile. She was perched on the edge of his couch, one hand on his shoulder and the other resting on his forearm as she shook him again gently.
"'ennie?"
"The one and only," she smiled at him, and leaned forward to drape herself over him, resting her head on his shoulder. Rodney closed his eyes as her soft curls spilled over the back of his neck; he inhaled the faint scent of vanilla and jasmine, and realized that there were so many things that he missed about her.
She was warm, and he could feel her breath fanning his hand gently. He had missed her.
"When did you get here?" He asked, still trying to banish the remains of his sleepiness and telling himself that she was actually there.
"Not long ago," she replied. "John said you've been sleeping for most of the day."
"'m tired."
"I can see that silly. I think it's time you came inside. It's getting cold out here," she told him, sitting up.
Rodney found himself missing her warmth.
"C'mon," she coaxed. "You can lie down inside."
Grumbling softly under his breath, he allowed her to help him sit and then stand up. He winced as stiff muscles protested, but didn't fight as she led him into the bright warm of the house. John was no where to be seen but a bright fire was burning in the fireplace and the lights were glowing with a golden light that was comforting. Jeannie's hair seemed impossibly brighter.
Before he knew it they were both sitting on one of the couches, slightly facing one another. Rodney blinked at her for a moment, trying to ignore the way the tight knot in his chest had loosened slightly, and how he ached at seeing her again. She was the only family he had left, someone who knew him better than almost anyone. He had grown up with her, shared everything with her, played with her and fought with her. He'd managed to love and hate her at the same time in the way that only siblings could. People said that you couldn't pick your family, but he knew that if he was given the choice, he'd choose Jeannie in a heartbeat.
She had been the treasured jewel of their fractured little family, and she had always been at the centre of his heart, from the moment his mother had sternly sat him down and let him hold her for the first time. She had been whisked away from him again in less than five minutes to be cooed and fussed over by other relatives, but as he had held her tiny, wriggly little body that first time, the warmth of her had stayed with him for many years.
And there she was with him, all grown up and with a family of her own. When he looked at her, he could still see his kid sister with those solemn blues eyes and a dirty face. She was happy, with a daughter of her own and a husband who loved her unconditionally. Rodney couldn't ask for more than that.
"Hi," he managed to say.
She smiled at him again, her eyes filling with tears and her chin trembling slightly, but it was more than enough. The next thing he knew he was wrapped in her arms. Without a second's hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her in return and held on tightly, burying his face in her shoulder and closing her eyes.
He wished that her presence could change everything and that he could go back to normal after seeing her again, but he knew that it wasn't going to happen. There was still so much to tell her, and so many decisions to make that he wasn't sure she'd even want to see him again once she knew. It made him want to cry, and hold on to her so she wouldn't leave him again, but she was an adult, not that vulnerable little girl she had once been, and she needed to make her own decisions.
"Oh Mer," she whispered into his hair. He knew she was crying, could hear it in the thickness of her voice. "I missed you so much. I didn't think I would, because you haven't been around much, but then suddenly I wasn't ever going to be able to see you again and I just…."
"I know." He breathed. "Believe me, I know."
After another minute, Jeannie pulled back and looked at him, her hands resting on his shoulders.
"You've changed."
"Changed how?" he asked nervously, shifting where he sat and wondering if somehow, she could tell that he was pregnant. Was there some sort of sense that mothers had that could reveal that kind of intimate secret? He prayed to anyone who was listening that that wasn't the case, because he wasn't ready for her to know. He wasn't ready to lose her again so soon after finding her again.
She smiled at him, her lips trembling momentarily. "It doesn't matter at the moment. I'm just glad you're alive."
He nodded, and looked down at his hands, touched and saddened at the same time. He didn't feel very alive on the inside, but he wasn't going to tell her that. She didn't need to be burdened with his problems; Jeannie had a life of her own to return to. A husband and a daughter who needed her, perhaps even more than he did, and he wasn't going to tear her in two by letting her know just how much he needed her. It wasn't his place, and Rodney had done enough taking for one life time.
From behind them, John cleared his throat.
"Uh...sorry to interrupt, Jeannie but Caleb's on the phone. You want me to tell him something?"
They turned on the couch to where John stood in the kitchen doorway, looking uncomfortable and awkward.
"No, I'll be right there." she looked at him. "I won't be long."
He nodded as she stood up, watched surreptitiously as Jeannie touched John's bicep briefly as she moved past him before he dropped his head into his hands, feeling a stabbing headache slice behind his eyes.
The sky was darkening outside into night, so he had obviously slept most of the day away but he still felt tired.
He was aware of John sitting down beside him and resting a hand briefly on his shoulder.
"Hey buddy. How are you feeling?"
Rodney just shrugged; his throat was tight with suppressed emotions and he honestly didn't know how he felt. A whirlwind of emotion had consumed him, and at the centre of it all was Jeannie and John. He wasn't sure if he could deal with the both of them at once. There was so much that he wanted, and he had no idea how to put it all into words. It was as if someone had reached inside of him and stolen all of his ability to express himself. Once it was as easy as letting his emotions take control, and then his words would run until he exhausted himself. Jeannie had referred to it as having verbal diarrhea, and it seemed that if that was the case then he was now verbally constipated.
"I think you might be coming down with something," John continued, as if Rodney had replied. "You slept most of the day and you look like shit."
Rodney managed a humorless laugh. "I see your people skills are improving."
"Yeah, well, maybe I have you to thank for that," John chuckled, his hand coming to rest once more on Rodney's back. "Do you feel like eating?"
"I guess."
"You guess?" John flopped backwards on the couch, his tone lightening. "Now I know there's something wrong with you. Should I call an ambulance?"
Rodney smiled bitterly, knowing that John couldn't see it. If only he knew the truth. Doctors couldn't stop what was wrong with him, not only would they not understand, but Rodney would be locked up for life, whatever life inside of him would be taken in some hideous way and no doubt painful way. It wasn't a pleasant concept to contemplate and he didn't need another burden added to his load.
"Have you told her?"
He rubbed his hands over his face and exhaled tiredly. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in his bed and never emerge. Never mind that Atlantis was waiting for him in another galaxy, never mind the depth of his emotions for John, or his relief at being with Jeannie again. If he could rewind time then maybe he would never have agreed to go on the mission to the Pegasus Galaxy. Then he would be ignorant of all the possibilities that were out there; he could have remained ignorant and safe, protected in a way that he didn't feel any more.
"No. How do I tell my sister that I'm a freak now? I'm not the person that she knew anymore. She doesn't need to know."
"I think you need to tell her."
Rodney finally looked at his friend, unsure if he had heard him right. John was a sensible man for the most part, if you ignored his stupid tendency to want to sacrifice himself for anyone and anything, which was another matter entirely. Rodney had found himself looking to him in the past for advice, and usually it was good advice. But with the self doubt that had accumulated of late had come a whole heap of doubt about everything else around him as well, included the people he cared about.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you think I'm the same man I was when I left Earth for the first time, Rodney?" John asked quietly. "I've seen things that people have dreamed about. I'm practically living a science fiction movie. There's no way I'm the same guy I was when I first stepped through that Stargate."
"Yes, you're a regular Kirk," Rodney replied bitingly. "What's your point?"
"My point is that Jeannie knows you're not the same Rodney you were three years ago. She knows that you're not the same brother she knew ten years ago. Every time we step through that gate we learn something different. We change. So let her know just how you've changed. She won't hate you for it. She's not stupid. If she's related to you, then I'd say she's pretty damn smart. Let her make up her own mind. She deserves that much at least."
Yet again, John was being the voice of reason that Rodney usually lacked. Whether he wanted, or needed it, was another matter, but there was no denying the fact that he was right. He wondered how John could know so instinctively that he was right. How intuition could come so easily to one who had struggled in the past to keep his feet. And he wondered, not for the first time, why he didn't possess the same ability. When it was pointed out to him, it was ridiculously clear that he was right and he hated himself for not seeing it in the first place.
"You're not the only one who's suffered Rodney," John told him quietly. "No matter what you may believe, believe that much at least."
Rodney couldn't make himself look at John as he stood up and left the room. He felt cold without John nearby. He heard the door shut softly behind John, but he couldn't make his legs move to get up and follow him.
"Rodney?" Jeannie's voice was tentative for the doorway to the kitchen. "What did he mean by that? What's going on?"
Rodney exhaled and leant back into the softness of the couch behind him. It had started to rain outside, and he watched as water ran serenely down the window.
"I think maybe you should sit down first, Jeannie."
TBC
A/N: The song in the middle of this chapter is called 'Who'll Stop the Rain" by Creedence Clearwater Revival. They're an old band, but I love their music and it seems like the kind of music that John would like. Thanks to everyone who reviewed recently. I apologize for not getting back to all of you, but you know how it is, life gets in the way. Hope you continue to keep enjoying this story!