[Stargate: Fiction] "Beating the Odds" [John/Rodney, G]
Title: Beating the Odds
Prompt: writerverse challenge #4 ‘table of doom’ prompt #13 Carl Eckart quote
Word Count: 1, 056
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairings: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Warnings: I kind of went for the opposite in this one- if most people are unaware, then some people are aware… like Rodney.
Summary: Rodney McKay had always loved numbers.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
Beating the Odds
“Most of us are unaware of our deep-seated faith in numbers”
- Carl Eckart (Our Modern Idol: Mathematical Science)
Rodney McKay had always loved numbers. Numbers were precise. Numbers were predictable. Numbers didn’t agree to go with him to the junior prom, only to dump him at the last minute because Steve Fenstermacher, captain of the basketball team, had asked them.
He came to rely on numbers, the only constant in an adolescence that would have been awkward even if he hadn’t been a genius. They were much more reliable than people, who lied and cheated, and got offended when Rodney (inadvertently) insulted them.
Rodney didn’t need any of that. He had physics, as beautiful and perfect a discipline as he could have imagined, with a reason behind everything that happened in the universe. People were unnecessary- he could do just fine on his own.
And he did, for a long time. Through two PhDs and into the glamorous field of clandestine government work. People didn’t talk to him about his work because it was all so top secret, but there wasn’t much else he was willing to discuss, so pretty soon they stopped talking to him at all. Rodney learned to take care of himself first, because no one else would; not to care about other people, because they’d only leave him; never to rely on anyone because they’d only let him down.
Then, he’d come to Atlantis.
The numbers had convinced him to go, of course. He was the top scientist on Ancient technology, after all, and the chances of fantastic discovery far outweighed the potential risk of gruesome death.
But that was where the numbers had failed him. Because the likelihood that by coming to another galaxy, Rodney would find friends- a family- was so small as to be virtually impossible.
Rodney hadn’t meant to make friends, hadn’t meant for the Pegasus Galaxy to be anything more than a change of scenery. He’d tried to keep everyone and everything at arms’ length- even Carson, the first person in a long time who might actually be considered a friend, even Atlantis, which felt more like home than anywhere Rodney had ever been. The odds were still against them, usually leaning more toward ‘gruesome death’ than ‘fantastic discoveries’ and Rodney knew that starting to depend on people who were likely to get killed was a sure way to a broken heart.
Apparently, though, John Sheppard- military commander and closet math geek- didn’t care about Rodney’s philosophy. To begin with, it didn’t make any sense that he’d want to talk to Rodney, let alone willingly spend time with him, but John actually seemed to like him. Not the way Carson or Elizabeth did, either, like they suspected Rodney could be a good person and they just had to wait out the sarcasm and grumbling. No, John liked the sarcasm. He gave as good as he got, and never tried to make Rodney be nicer to anyone who wasn’t likely to chase them back to the ‘gate with pointy objects.
And for the first time in his life, Rodney wanted the numbers to be wrong. Because he was a genius, after all- he’d run the possibilities, and the longer they lived in Pegasus, the greater the odds were that one of John’s stupidly heroic stunts was going to get him killed. The numbers said that Rodney should run, that either he was going to lose John, or that staying close to John was going to get him killed, too. The numbers told him, quite clearly, to keep his distance.
But he couldn’t, not with John.
More and more, he found that he wanted to protect the idiot pilot, even when that meant risking his own life. But caring about John meant he started to care about other people, too, not just Carson and Elizabeth, but Teyla and Ford and Ronon and Radek.
The odds caught up with Ford, with Carson and Elizabeth, but surprisingly, Rodney didn’t feel like giving up on humanity. He just felt lucky to have known them for as long as he had, and grateful for those he hadn’t lost. Having friends seemed worth the risk, even knowing the cost.
But even Rodney didn’t know how much he had changed until they were ambushed off-world by natives with actual projectile weapons. They were more like muskets than the team’s P90s, but still as dangerous. And when Rodney saw one of them raise his gun toward John, who couldn’t see the threat, Rodney reacted without thinking, without even pausing to calculate the stupidity of what he was doing. He just moved, shoving John out of the way as the gun went off. He felt John’s breath against his neck as they collided, felt a searing pain along his side, then there was nothing but darkness.
He woke to the floating sensation of painkillers, and John fast asleep beside his bed, holding tight to Rodney’s hand. He started awake when Rodney shifted, then grinned. “Hey, you’re awake,” he said.
John looked like he hadn’t shaved or changed his clothes in a couple of days, but Rodney had never been happier to see him. The steadily-increasing ache of his ribs was easily forgotten as John smiled and squeezed his hand.
“You are one lucky bastard, you know that?” the pilot said. “If that damned musketball had been half an inch higher, I’d be looking for a new scientist.”
John kept his tone light, but Rodney could feel his hand shaking. He squeezed back. “Good thing I’m not that tall, then,” he said.
“Dammit, Rodney,” said John. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I didn’t want to watch you die,” Rodney snapped, his tone contrasting with the gentle way he moved his thumb over John’s wrist.
John sighed. “What happened to that asshole scientist who thought he was the most important person alive and only cared about himself?”
“He found someone he’d take a bullet for,” Rodney said, honestly.
“He better not do it again,” said John, but Rodney knew he’d make the same choice again if he had to.
The likelihood that by coming to the Pegasus Galaxy, Rodney would find a family, would find a soul mate, was so small as to be virtually impossible. But Rodney had been doing the impossible since he’d arrived in this galaxy, and he’d have an entire lifetime with John to figure out how he’d gotten so lucky.
THE END
Current Mood:
grumpy
Prompt: writerverse challenge #4 ‘table of doom’ prompt #13 Carl Eckart quote
Word Count: 1, 056
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairings: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Warnings: I kind of went for the opposite in this one- if most people are unaware, then some people are aware… like Rodney.
Summary: Rodney McKay had always loved numbers.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
Beating the Odds
“Most of us are unaware of our deep-seated faith in numbers”
- Carl Eckart (Our Modern Idol: Mathematical Science)
Rodney McKay had always loved numbers. Numbers were precise. Numbers were predictable. Numbers didn’t agree to go with him to the junior prom, only to dump him at the last minute because Steve Fenstermacher, captain of the basketball team, had asked them.
He came to rely on numbers, the only constant in an adolescence that would have been awkward even if he hadn’t been a genius. They were much more reliable than people, who lied and cheated, and got offended when Rodney (inadvertently) insulted them.
Rodney didn’t need any of that. He had physics, as beautiful and perfect a discipline as he could have imagined, with a reason behind everything that happened in the universe. People were unnecessary- he could do just fine on his own.
And he did, for a long time. Through two PhDs and into the glamorous field of clandestine government work. People didn’t talk to him about his work because it was all so top secret, but there wasn’t much else he was willing to discuss, so pretty soon they stopped talking to him at all. Rodney learned to take care of himself first, because no one else would; not to care about other people, because they’d only leave him; never to rely on anyone because they’d only let him down.
Then, he’d come to Atlantis.
The numbers had convinced him to go, of course. He was the top scientist on Ancient technology, after all, and the chances of fantastic discovery far outweighed the potential risk of gruesome death.
But that was where the numbers had failed him. Because the likelihood that by coming to another galaxy, Rodney would find friends- a family- was so small as to be virtually impossible.
Rodney hadn’t meant to make friends, hadn’t meant for the Pegasus Galaxy to be anything more than a change of scenery. He’d tried to keep everyone and everything at arms’ length- even Carson, the first person in a long time who might actually be considered a friend, even Atlantis, which felt more like home than anywhere Rodney had ever been. The odds were still against them, usually leaning more toward ‘gruesome death’ than ‘fantastic discoveries’ and Rodney knew that starting to depend on people who were likely to get killed was a sure way to a broken heart.
Apparently, though, John Sheppard- military commander and closet math geek- didn’t care about Rodney’s philosophy. To begin with, it didn’t make any sense that he’d want to talk to Rodney, let alone willingly spend time with him, but John actually seemed to like him. Not the way Carson or Elizabeth did, either, like they suspected Rodney could be a good person and they just had to wait out the sarcasm and grumbling. No, John liked the sarcasm. He gave as good as he got, and never tried to make Rodney be nicer to anyone who wasn’t likely to chase them back to the ‘gate with pointy objects.
And for the first time in his life, Rodney wanted the numbers to be wrong. Because he was a genius, after all- he’d run the possibilities, and the longer they lived in Pegasus, the greater the odds were that one of John’s stupidly heroic stunts was going to get him killed. The numbers said that Rodney should run, that either he was going to lose John, or that staying close to John was going to get him killed, too. The numbers told him, quite clearly, to keep his distance.
But he couldn’t, not with John.
More and more, he found that he wanted to protect the idiot pilot, even when that meant risking his own life. But caring about John meant he started to care about other people, too, not just Carson and Elizabeth, but Teyla and Ford and Ronon and Radek.
The odds caught up with Ford, with Carson and Elizabeth, but surprisingly, Rodney didn’t feel like giving up on humanity. He just felt lucky to have known them for as long as he had, and grateful for those he hadn’t lost. Having friends seemed worth the risk, even knowing the cost.
But even Rodney didn’t know how much he had changed until they were ambushed off-world by natives with actual projectile weapons. They were more like muskets than the team’s P90s, but still as dangerous. And when Rodney saw one of them raise his gun toward John, who couldn’t see the threat, Rodney reacted without thinking, without even pausing to calculate the stupidity of what he was doing. He just moved, shoving John out of the way as the gun went off. He felt John’s breath against his neck as they collided, felt a searing pain along his side, then there was nothing but darkness.
He woke to the floating sensation of painkillers, and John fast asleep beside his bed, holding tight to Rodney’s hand. He started awake when Rodney shifted, then grinned. “Hey, you’re awake,” he said.
John looked like he hadn’t shaved or changed his clothes in a couple of days, but Rodney had never been happier to see him. The steadily-increasing ache of his ribs was easily forgotten as John smiled and squeezed his hand.
“You are one lucky bastard, you know that?” the pilot said. “If that damned musketball had been half an inch higher, I’d be looking for a new scientist.”
John kept his tone light, but Rodney could feel his hand shaking. He squeezed back. “Good thing I’m not that tall, then,” he said.
“Dammit, Rodney,” said John. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I didn’t want to watch you die,” Rodney snapped, his tone contrasting with the gentle way he moved his thumb over John’s wrist.
John sighed. “What happened to that asshole scientist who thought he was the most important person alive and only cared about himself?”
“He found someone he’d take a bullet for,” Rodney said, honestly.
“He better not do it again,” said John, but Rodney knew he’d make the same choice again if he had to.
The likelihood that by coming to the Pegasus Galaxy, Rodney would find a family, would find a soul mate, was so small as to be virtually impossible. But Rodney had been doing the impossible since he’d arrived in this galaxy, and he’d have an entire lifetime with John to figure out how he’d gotten so lucky.
THE END
Current Mood:
grumpy