Still more to say apparantly as this is not the last chapter. Hope you enjoy and please comment as I like to know how it's going from your end.
- Many thanks.
Cynical Soldier
Chapter 19 Iss1
After lunch John arrived to relieve Teyla. He was very subdued, but hiding it well with a wide grin. Rodney noticed John's damaged knuckles and he looked at John out of the corner of his eyes, "How you doing?" he asked quietly.
A day or two ago, he would have asked bluntly what happened. He remembered the midnight chats full of emotion and felt embarrassed at showing so much of himself, of seeing so much of John. They didn't normally do that, didn't normally show that much of themselves, but he had forgotten that and had spoken from the heart and John had responded, knowing he needed it and giving it. But now… now he was more himself and he didn't know how to say those things, didn't know how to open himself up to another person, even his team, and so he tripped around the outskirts and hoped John knew he understood without saying the words, just as they always had.
John's eyes widened for a fraction of a second in surprise. He looked at Rodney with a tired smile, "I'm doing okay. Be better when you're out of here, though, so if you could stop lazing around and get on with the recovery, that'd be great."
Rodney smiled, "I'll see what I can do."
Sheppard's return smile faded, voice turning soft and serious, "How are you?."
Rodney glanced at him and then back to his lap. He nodded as he answered. "Okay, actually." He shrugged, "Just want the twelve hours to be up like now. I don't know if you noticed or not but I hate waiting for things. You'll be pleased to know that I intend to do everything possible to avoid yet another middle of the night girly chat with you again this evening."
"Well, that's good. Another one of those could tip me over the edge. They'd be referring to me in past tense as Nut Job John," he said teasingly as he smiled softly, obviously eager to lighten the mood.
Rodney smiled and huffed a little laugh, "What makes you think they don't already?"
"Because they're too busy calling me Colonel Marvellous. I've seen the banners."
Rodney gave a half laugh, before he could stop himself. He managed to control it and returned a response dripping in sarcasm, "Yes, of course. How could I forget that… oh yeah… memory wipe. You wouldn't be feeding me false information, would you?"
"No," John said with a smirk, "I really can leap tall buildings in a single bound and kill people with my laser vision, and yes you do send all your money to my bank account."
"Aaahhh, just so we're sure then," Rodney smiled, always at ease with John who never took things the wrong way, or took them to heart. Who always got his sci-fi references and could talk about nothing for hours, which is exactly what he needed right now. Too lose himself in mindless rambles about nothing. "I'm pretty sure I'm very rich. Genius doesn't come cheap you know."
"You always were to too modest, Rodney," Sheppard said, trying to keep a straight face but failing as he fell into chuckles.
"Hey! Didn't anybody tell you; you're supposed to be nice to the sick people."
"You've always been sick and I can't be nice to you twenty four, seven. It's impossible. The universe would have to end or something, and besides, the marines would only get jealous."
Rodney spoke over John's simmering chuckles, "Oh har. Har. Har. Want to call me poo poo head while you're in your five year old mode?"
John coughed away the last of the humour and replied in a condescending tone, as he deadpanned, "You don't get to be a Colonel by calling people poo poo head, Rodney. That's just childish," while a smirk tugged at the edges of his facade.
And so they went on. Mindless, stupid, wonderful mind numbing banter that helped them both to forget about the heart clenching fear that Rodney could be gone and just revel in the things that brought them together as the best of friends. They had dinner together and the mindless banter never stopped.
Radek visited after dinner and joined in, which Rodney thought was very unfair as it seemed to be two against one through most of it, but he held his own and enjoyed every minute of it. The familiar feeling of his synapses crackling into life, as responses lined up to be spoken, and insults raring to be given form. He was actually disappointed when Radek had to leave and returned to the labs.
Rodney could feel himself relaxing, falling back onto familiar ground. Sheppard seemed to be relaxing as well judging by the slouch into the chair, with an arm slung over the back and his feet stretched out and crossed over, resting on the base frame of the bed.
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John felt more relaxed than he had in days, the familiarity of it warming something inside. If he was a cat he might well have been purring.
Rodney frowned at him, "Are you really comfortable like that? It's making my back hurt just looking at you."
Sheppard grinned, "Damn, you're onto my evil plan." He was too relaxed to put a lot of thought into the words, or false emotion behind, them so they fell a little flat.
"What? So, the looking like you've been deboned is just lulling us all into a false sense of security before you strike? I always suspected the hair was a secret weapon – it's definitely not natural."
He frowned at Rodney, pointing a lazy finger at him. "Hey, we agreed to leave the hair alone. You don't mention mine and I don't mention yours."
"Yes, well, all bets are off as I can't remember that agreement. Anyway, what's wrong with mine?" Rodney asked, his tones resentful that there could be anything wrong with it.
"What, apart from the fact you appear to have been short changed?" he changed tacks at Rodney's hurt expression, "Anyway, exactly how long are you going to use the loss of memory excuse? Because judging by the conversations we've had you're not missing a lot of them now."
"Oh yes. Can I take S for Superheroes please," Rodney said sarcastically, his voice turning morose as he continued, "I'm sure that's a criteria for working on Atlantis."
"Well, having been in the science labs, it wouldn't surprise me that it is a prerequisite to work here. Besides, you also remembered the science was bad in Back to the Future," Sheppard offered.
Rodney glared at him, "I can't believe you made me watch that again," his tone indignant, "You've probably killed off valuable brain cells that I won't even remember the loss off. You're a liability."
John flinched, but was sure he hid it well behind a smile. "I was worried you'd only remember the geek stuff. I figured you could do with a little outside input."
"And how long are you going to stick to that story?"
"About as long as you're going to stick to yours. In other words, as long as I can get away with it."
"Well time's up. You've got about a three second life span on that lie."
"Learn by my mistakes, young Padawan," Sheppard intoned straight faced.
"Padawan? Please. I'd be a Jedi way before you. You're more Solo - shoot first and wonder why it blew up later."
"Han Solo is cool," Sheppard said, eyes sparkling as he envisioned himself as one of his heroes; not that he would admit that to anyone.
Rodney looked at Sheppard. "Yeah, he is," his voice sighed in resignation. Solo was cool, John was cool. Rodney was not.
John gave an amused smile because he could almost hear Rodney's thoughts out loud as he always expressed them so clearly on his face, "Skywalker was cool when he was a Jedi," he offered.
"True," Rodney conceded.
"Means your dad was Darth Vader though," John added thoughtfully.
"I think he must have been the emperor, because Jeannie was definitely Darth Vader."
John broke out in laughter, "Jeannie's nice and polite. She's hardly Darth Vader material."
Rodney frowned at him sulkily. "She's nice to you. She's horrible to me, always has been. She's got an evil tongue."
"An evil tongue?" Sheppard repeated disbelievingly, "What did she say?" he asked with the barely contained snigger clear in his voice throughout.
"Tons, and there's no need for you to know any of them. You'll probably find them funny too. You have a weird sense of humour sometimes," Rodney accused, still sullen.
"It's funny how yours is exactly the same until it's directed at you."
"Really, I don't remember that," his voice reaching a higher pitch, as it always did when he lied.
Sheppard rolled his eyes.
Rodney's blue eyes were wide, eyebrows raised. A wonky picture of innocence asking What?
Sheppard smirked, "Oh really. You know the more you use the excuse, the faster it'll wear out. You should keep it for really important stuff, like avoiding form filling… or Kavanagh."
Rodney nodded, "Fair point." He yawned wide, which explained why John had won that argument so succinctly.
Sheppard was about to order him to lie down and get some sleep when Carson came over. "Good, you're awake."
Rodney immediately tensed, "Well, glad to see all those years at Sheep Veterinary School gave you more than an unhealthy love of sheep." There was a harsh twist to his words, but Carson let the bitter words flow over him. Rodney always got a little scathing when he was scared.
Carson carried on regardless, "We got the results back from this morning's blood trials. The chemical is continuing to reduce. I thought you'd want to know. We won't get the other results until the morning, but we're still on track. I'd like to take another sample of blood now, if that's okay?"
Rodney went through varying emotions, ending in resignation, "Okay."
"You want me to step outside?" Sheppard asked, already rising from his chair.
"It won't take long, so it's up to you, Rodney."
"No, you might as well stay. You can make sure he doesn't drink it and that he at least leaves me with some."
So John sat back down. He didn't say a word as he watched Rodney flinch as the needle neared the skin, but he resolutely steadied his arm as Carson slid the needle of the syringe under the skin and took a blood sample. John wondered how he had ever thought of Rodney as a coward and hated himself for even thinking it once.
Rodney was almost back to himself, and it was easy for John to forget how scared he'd been of needles when he first returned to Atlantis; easy to forget the fear would still be there hidden behind the snark and false expressions of bravery.
"Well done," Carson said softly as he slid the needle out.
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" Rodney replied, which might have been okay if it hadn't sounded so very bitter.
Carson flashed a tight smile, probably just as unsure at what to say as John was. He capped the syringe in the uncomfortable silence, finally breaking it as he enquired how Rodney was.
"I'll be okay when I know this stuff is out of my system."
"Not long now, Rodney. You're doing great."
Rodney glared at him, but deflated when he saw how vulnerable Carson was. "It's all your work so far," he conceded.
And John had been wondering about that. Rodney didn't normally notice people's finer nuances. Hell, they normally had to be crying or screaming for Rodney to realise they were hurt – and he always seemed surprised.
Now, he not only seemed to notice the slightest nuances, but he reacted to them almost on a subconscious, instinctual level. John was only too aware how beneficial it would be to a bodyguard to notice hate or anger on that level and that reacting to it on a subconscious level would result in a faster response time; time that might save a life.
John wondered if it was like the fighting skills and that it would fade eventually. Rodney was right, both skills would be priceless in the field, but like Rodney, he hoped they faded into nothing. They were stark reminders that Rodney was not as he was and John hated anything that made it obvious. He always preferred denial when he could get it.
"Well, I'll get this to the labs," Carson responded, self consciously, obviously unsure how to react to Rodney conceding credit. "I'll see you in the morning, Rodney. Make sure you get as much sleep as possible, it helps the memories form and settle, okay?"
"Yes, Mommy." Rodney suddenly looked Carson intensely in the eyes, "Thanks for everything Carson." He nodded, "Good night." And John could hear the 'just in case' in it… the goodbye in it.
Carson looked back just as intently, "I will see you in the morning, Rodney," and John smiled when he heard the command in it… the everything will be okay promise of it.
"Good night, Doc," he said. Carson nodded in response, "Night, Colonel," before he turned and left for the medical labs.
"You heard the doctor," Sheppard said, waving at the bed.
"He's gone," Rodney's confused tones queried. I don't have to do as he says if he can't see me, unsaid but ringing loud and clear.
"And I can go get him back if that's what it takes. You need sleep, so just lie down. If you're a good little boy, I might read you a story."
Rodney glared at him, "Traitor."
"Yes, I am," John replied unrepentantly. "Now, lie down."
"I'm a grown man. I should be able to choose my own damn bedtime," the frustration clear in his tones, but he was squirreling down under the sheets nevertheless.
"Language, Rodney, or do I have to get the soap again."
Rodney froze in mid squirm, turning just his head to John with a factor ten glare. These were generally only seen before a rant of biblical proportions and a stubborn streak that would put any mule to shame.
"Okay, okay," Sheppard conceded, raising his hands in defence, "I promise no more kiddie jokes." Because apparently two's your limit. He made a mental note that he may have just inadvertently discovered Rodney McKay's Achilles heel… or destruct button.
Rodney narrowed his eyes at him, clearly a non believer. John smiled his most charming smile and repeated the oath, "Promise. Now get some sleep. You heard the Doc. It'll do you some good."
Rodney huffed but squirreled down under the covers and Sheppard tried not to think how funny it would be if he started humming rock a bye baby right now. He watched Rodney drift off to sleep and he couldn't help smiling. It had been too long since he and Rodney had just sat with idle banter. He was refusing to let his thoughts wander to the worst scenario possible - that Rodney could still be lost to them - so he kept his mind busy on other thoughts. He thought about what they might discuss tomorrow, what that shiny instrument in the corner might do, what Rodney might be dreaming of with that smile on his face and wondered if he remembered Nobel Prizes yet. He thought of anything and everything bar the thing that scared him the most. Rodney. Gone.
Eventually Ronon came to relieve him and John returned to his quarters. He hesitated for a millisecond outside his doors, suddenly remembering what lay behind them, and with a sigh he entered. He stopped in the half light of his quarters as he looked around morosely. He sighed, knowing he couldn't leave it like this. His mind returned inevitably to this morning, to the actions that had led to the destruction scattered around him, and to the thoughts and feelings that pushed him to breaking point.
He had ushered everyone out of the infirmary, understanding why Rodney needed to be alone to take it all in, he had felt exactly the same. Everyone had gathered outside the infirmary, not wanting to move far and gaining strength from each other.
He had walked right past them, noticing that Ronon was watching Rodney still. He had felt Teyla's eyes on him as he had walked away at a quick pace, thankful that she let him go without a word. He had made his way directly to his quarters, not meeting anyone's eyes, just desperate to hold on to his emotions until he reached the sanctuary of his quarters. He had walked in, much like tonight, coming to a disorientated halt in the middle of his room. Rodney, gone, The single thought had circulated around and around, undoing him a little more each time.
He'd remembered stories from World War Veterans, how they felt antsy without their brothers in arms at their sides when they returned home. How they created bonds that no one outside of the trenches had understood. Stronger than any family ties or past loves; these new bonds made strangers' lives more important than your own and their loss unbearable, something never to recover from. Bonds only understood by other veterans with their own ties that bound them stronger than any oath or blood.
John thought he had understood that bond in Afghanistan. Hadn't he risked everything for Mitch and Dex? But now, he knew the truth. Atlantis had shown him that conflict for survival created bonds that tied people to your very soul. He had gone against orders for his friends in Afghanistan, but he would rip the galaxy apart for his team.
He had tried to remember when it started. But, it wasn't any day, or week or year that he realised, that he just knew he could trust them to bring him home, regardless of the sacrifice. That they had become a part of his very being. He didn't know when he realised they meant everything to him, and him to them. It just was, and it felt as if it had always been that way, and the depth of it scared him.
He had a responsibility to everyone here, though. He couldn't allow people to see that he valued some over others, because people looked to him and he had to be confident and fair. He had to make the right decisions without emotion and he couldn't allow anyone to see anything that would question that decision, or that would question him. He kept his emotions on the inside where no one could see them. He'd always been that way to a certain extent, but more so here.
Now, his emotions were flooding through the cracks. His control a distant memory. He'd held it together for three months now, struggling to carry on with a gap inside a mile wide, and then they'd got Rodney back and he was supposed to be okay, damn it! John wasn't supposed to be ripped open again and again. They were supposed to get Rodney back and he was supposed to slip back into the huge space he'd left behind. But he hadn't.
He'd seen Rodney under the surface, but still too deep for John to reach and then there had been the fight with Ronon. Rodney might as well have got up in John's face and shouted, 'I'm not the man you know anymore', and John wanted to shout that it wasn't fucking fair, Rodney was home now, it should be okay now.
And Rodney had told them the things he had done, the things he had endured, the dark things that John was supposed to protect him from, and the guilt and the sorrow was overwhelming and then Rodney had injected himself. He had been lying there like he'd died. Like he'd left them again and somehow the empty space he threatened to leave behind again seemed larger, more intimidating than before, and John knew he'd never be the same again, but then Carson had dragged Rodney back.
Every time he tried to hold himself together, Rodney's recovery threatened to tear him apart again and John's emotions were raw and tender and then Rodney had actually died, his heart had actually stopped and Carson dragged him back again, twice, and it hurt, it hurt so damn much and then he'd thought we're almost there. We just have to keep him alive for twelve hours and he'll be back, he'll slot into that empty space again and I won't feel empty anymore.
And then Rodney's starting to act like himself and just when John's thinking it'll be okay, that there is only hours till he's finally home, Carson tells them. Keeping his heart going won't be enough, his heart can still beat and yet he can still be gone. Just an empty shell and that's made even worse due to the fact that Rodney is larger than life and overflowing with personality, so much so that John often wonders if there is more than one in there and to think he'll be as empty as John feels, and that's wrong and it's not fair... and that's when he broke.
A distant part of his mind knew people had probably heard him, but he'd been too busy shouting at the gods, the galaxy, at life, to pay it any mind. Things flew through the air, hitting the walls, the floor and the ceiling with resounding crashes that just weren't satisfying enough and even his screaming rage hadn't made enough noise to soothe the pain that this galaxy took his friend away and sent back a cheap imitation.
He'd finally stopped throwing things and started hitting the walls with his fists, feeling pain on the outside of his body instead of deep inside and it was so refreshingly new that he just kept hitting and hitting and screaming out his fury until he was hoarse. Eventually he stopped and collapsed, turning as he did so to rest his back against the wall, head tilted up so he didn't have to look at the destruction in his room. He realised his cheeks were wet and then he remembered the tears falling and he felt weak and embarrassed even if there was no one here to see him. He isn't supposed to cry. He wanted to scrub the evidence away, but at the same time he didn't want to acknowledge them. He pulled his black shirt sleeve down so that he could grip the edge of it and rubbed his cheeks dry.
He sat there for a long time, feeling heavy and wrung out. He also felt a little stronger inside and thought he might be able to walk into the infirmary now at least. He finally dragged himself up, and he righted his bed back onto its legs as he passed on the way to the bathroom. He had stripped down and climbed into the shower, feeling refreshingly numb and weary. He had kept the water warm, finally easing tired muscles that had been pulled taught with tension for too long, the refreshingly new sensation of his knuckles stinging. He had climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel round himself. He'd picked his way across the floor, stepping over remnants of destruction till he'd reached his bed and then collapsed into it, sleeping deeply for the first time in too long.
He stood there now, looking at the destruction that he didn't have the heart to face before his shift with Rodney, thinking how long ago it all felt. But now he's starting to feel a little human again. Rodney's starting to fill that space again, and so he bends down and starts picking things up and putting them away and he tries not to rip open the wound again, tries not to think that he never said goodbye to Rodney before he left the infirmary.
TBC.