FIC: chance: sga: gen: pg
Title: Chance
Author: glitterdash
Rating: PG
Word count: ~1000
Gen, or pre-slash (John/Rodney), however you see it. Un-beta'd, due to being written in haste! Tag to 519: Vegas.
eta: Thanks to itsjustgwen for pointing out my Briticisms! All corrected now, I hope.
By the time they get to Sheppard, he’s half-dead. Ten more minutes, Rodney thinks, and he’d have been all the way there. The doctor works on him for an hour before she’ll allow Sheppard to be moved to the helicopter. Rodney catches words - instructions, terse comments: “bullet perforated the pulmonary vein and shattered a rib… miracle it didn’t hit his heart.”
He isn’t sure why he’s here - God knows there’s enough work for him to do - but he supposes Sheppard had saved them from a Wraith invasion. It has to be worth some sort of recognition.
The remains of the trailer are still alight, tipping the sweltering desert heat over into the ‘unbearable’ category. Rodney sweats and takes off his jacket. He wonders at Sheppard’s resilience, his stubbornness to survive; if anyone had asked Rodney, back after their meeting in the interrogation room, he’d have said the man had given up long ago. But Sheppard fights and fights, and manages to stay alive for the duration of the helicopter ride to the hospital.
“We’re taking him straight into the operating room,” the doctor tells him, as the waiting medics wheel Sheppard away. “He’ll probably be a few hours in there.”
Rodney can’t wait that long. He was work to do, after all.
Five days later, he’s standing awkwardly at Sheppard’s bed-side. Sheppard looks marginally better than when they last found him, but he’s still pale, and winces whenever he moves.
“Detective Sheppard,“ Woolsey begins.
“Actually, it’s Mr Sheppard now.” He doesn’t sound particularly aggrieved. He doesn’t sound particularly anything, Rodney thinks.
“Of course,” Woolsey says, unfazed. “We’d like to extend our thanks to you. If it wasn’t for your actions, Earth would be in a lot of trouble right now.”
“Yeah,” Sheppard says. “I guess you’re right.”
He meets Rodney’s eyes briefly, then turns away. They leave the room in silence. No one says goodbye.
Rodney works. He’s due to leave for Atlantis any day now, although he’s secretly pissed at how Lorne and the rest of them have managed fine while he’s been gone. He still has plenty to do, loose ends to tie up. Turns out, blowing up a Wraith involves a hell of a lot of paperwork.
A week after his visit to Sheppard, he gets an email saying he’s been discharged. Rodney deletes it, then stares at the screen for a while. He snaps out of it when Zelenka brings him coffee.
That night in bed, he reads John Sheppard’s file again. He reads it three times, and makes a decision. He looks at the clock as he picks up the phone. It’s twenty-two minutes past three. “Oh, what the hell,” he says, and dials the number.
A voice answers after the first ring. “Sheppard,” it says, making Rodney wonder whether old habits are dying hard.
“It’s Dr Rodney McKay,” he says. “From Area 51.”
Sheppard pauses, then says, “What the hell do you want?” He doesn’t sound angry.
Rodney takes a breath. “I read your undergraduate thesis, from when you were at MIT. Can you still do math like that? The air force didn’t push it out of your brain to make way for all their moronic rules?” If he talks too fast, it isn’t because he’s nervous; it’s because he’s desperate.
“What? Why?”
“Listen, I could do with a good mathematician. On Atlantis, I mean. And if you’re as good as I think you are, I could definitely find you a place there.”
“You’re calling me at three in the morning to offer me a job in another galaxy?” Sheppard asks incredulously. “Are you crazy?”
“Come on, it’s not like you have any better offers.” Low blow, Rodney thinks, but he’s used to playing dirty to get what he wants. “Most people would kill for a chance like this.”
“For God’s sake, McKay,” Sheppard says, exasperated. “This alternate version of me, this hero who’s saved the planet, he’s not me.”
“I’ve told you, there isn’t that much difference between the two of you. Look, Atlantis was the best thing that happened to you in that reality, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be in this one.”
In the silence that follows, he can hear Sheppard’s breathing, quick and steady. “I’m hanging up now,” Sheppard eventually says.
“Wait! John, wait.” Maybe it’s the use of his first name, or maybe it’s the panic in Rodney’s voice, but Sheppard doesn’t put the receiver down.
“Just … think about it, OK? You can call me anytime on this number. I don’t leave for another couple of days.”
“Fine. Can I go back to sleep now?”
Rodney doesn’t say, “You weren’t asleep in the first place”, although he wants to. He says, “If you don’t call back, I won’t ask again.”
“Fine. Good night.”
“Hang on!” Rodney can’t help himself saying one last thing. “You need to come, John. Atlantis… I think she needs you.” He also doesn’t say, “and you need her.”
“Good night, McKay.” This time, Sheppard does hang up.
Rodney lies down, but doesn’t go back to sleep. Somewhere, John Sheppard is probably flipping a coin.
Author: glitterdash
Rating: PG
Word count: ~1000
Gen, or pre-slash (John/Rodney), however you see it. Un-beta'd, due to being written in haste! Tag to 519: Vegas.
eta: Thanks to itsjustgwen for pointing out my Briticisms! All corrected now, I hope.
By the time they get to Sheppard, he’s half-dead. Ten more minutes, Rodney thinks, and he’d have been all the way there. The doctor works on him for an hour before she’ll allow Sheppard to be moved to the helicopter. Rodney catches words - instructions, terse comments: “bullet perforated the pulmonary vein and shattered a rib… miracle it didn’t hit his heart.”
He isn’t sure why he’s here - God knows there’s enough work for him to do - but he supposes Sheppard had saved them from a Wraith invasion. It has to be worth some sort of recognition.
The remains of the trailer are still alight, tipping the sweltering desert heat over into the ‘unbearable’ category. Rodney sweats and takes off his jacket. He wonders at Sheppard’s resilience, his stubbornness to survive; if anyone had asked Rodney, back after their meeting in the interrogation room, he’d have said the man had given up long ago. But Sheppard fights and fights, and manages to stay alive for the duration of the helicopter ride to the hospital.
“We’re taking him straight into the operating room,” the doctor tells him, as the waiting medics wheel Sheppard away. “He’ll probably be a few hours in there.”
Rodney can’t wait that long. He was work to do, after all.
Five days later, he’s standing awkwardly at Sheppard’s bed-side. Sheppard looks marginally better than when they last found him, but he’s still pale, and winces whenever he moves.
“Detective Sheppard,“ Woolsey begins.
“Actually, it’s Mr Sheppard now.” He doesn’t sound particularly aggrieved. He doesn’t sound particularly anything, Rodney thinks.
“Of course,” Woolsey says, unfazed. “We’d like to extend our thanks to you. If it wasn’t for your actions, Earth would be in a lot of trouble right now.”
“Yeah,” Sheppard says. “I guess you’re right.”
He meets Rodney’s eyes briefly, then turns away. They leave the room in silence. No one says goodbye.
Rodney works. He’s due to leave for Atlantis any day now, although he’s secretly pissed at how Lorne and the rest of them have managed fine while he’s been gone. He still has plenty to do, loose ends to tie up. Turns out, blowing up a Wraith involves a hell of a lot of paperwork.
A week after his visit to Sheppard, he gets an email saying he’s been discharged. Rodney deletes it, then stares at the screen for a while. He snaps out of it when Zelenka brings him coffee.
That night in bed, he reads John Sheppard’s file again. He reads it three times, and makes a decision. He looks at the clock as he picks up the phone. It’s twenty-two minutes past three. “Oh, what the hell,” he says, and dials the number.
A voice answers after the first ring. “Sheppard,” it says, making Rodney wonder whether old habits are dying hard.
“It’s Dr Rodney McKay,” he says. “From Area 51.”
Sheppard pauses, then says, “What the hell do you want?” He doesn’t sound angry.
Rodney takes a breath. “I read your undergraduate thesis, from when you were at MIT. Can you still do math like that? The air force didn’t push it out of your brain to make way for all their moronic rules?” If he talks too fast, it isn’t because he’s nervous; it’s because he’s desperate.
“What? Why?”
“Listen, I could do with a good mathematician. On Atlantis, I mean. And if you’re as good as I think you are, I could definitely find you a place there.”
“You’re calling me at three in the morning to offer me a job in another galaxy?” Sheppard asks incredulously. “Are you crazy?”
“Come on, it’s not like you have any better offers.” Low blow, Rodney thinks, but he’s used to playing dirty to get what he wants. “Most people would kill for a chance like this.”
“For God’s sake, McKay,” Sheppard says, exasperated. “This alternate version of me, this hero who’s saved the planet, he’s not me.”
“I’ve told you, there isn’t that much difference between the two of you. Look, Atlantis was the best thing that happened to you in that reality, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be in this one.”
In the silence that follows, he can hear Sheppard’s breathing, quick and steady. “I’m hanging up now,” Sheppard eventually says.
“Wait! John, wait.” Maybe it’s the use of his first name, or maybe it’s the panic in Rodney’s voice, but Sheppard doesn’t put the receiver down.
“Just … think about it, OK? You can call me anytime on this number. I don’t leave for another couple of days.”
“Fine. Can I go back to sleep now?”
Rodney doesn’t say, “You weren’t asleep in the first place”, although he wants to. He says, “If you don’t call back, I won’t ask again.”
“Fine. Good night.”
“Hang on!” Rodney can’t help himself saying one last thing. “You need to come, John. Atlantis… I think she needs you.” He also doesn’t say, “and you need her.”
“Good night, McKay.” This time, Sheppard does hang up.
Rodney lies down, but doesn’t go back to sleep. Somewhere, John Sheppard is probably flipping a coin.