fic | Things You Never Did [john/rodney]
So finals week is also the the fountain of productivity because procrastination is always preferable to actual work.
Much love to isiscolo for the wonderful beta. All remaining errors are of course my own.
Things You Never Did
johnrodney, pg
06 december 2005
*
You came into this world on the fifth of January in 1967, and your tough military father cried in a room full of strangers. Your mother was laughing, as sweet and clear as you will always remember.
You came into Rodney's life on the twenty-first of October in 2004 and made exotic, old technologies glow. You were thirty-five and going nowhere and too busy falling in love with the beautiful silence of Antarctica to ask life-changing questions like: should I go to another galaxy?
So you flipped a coin instead.
You came to Atlantis on the nineteenth of November, same year. You were coming home, but you didn't know it then.
You left this world, Atlantis, Rodney and everyone and everything you knew on the fifth of January in 2012, three days after the Wraith begun their attack and six days before they were defeated for good.
You were delivering another bomb to another Hive ship, just like the first time, except the Daedalus couldn't beam you out, not if you needed to get underneath the Wraith's jamming systems. You didn't know Atlantis would win; you were dead by then. If you had known, you would've gone anyway, because it had to be done.
It was your birthday, the day you died. Rodney gave you the last of his candy bars before you left.
*
You never kissed Rodney, never wanted to, didn't even really think about it. But then, you didn't know that he thought about it sometimes between moments or after all those times you were miraculously not dead. He usually got embarrassed afterwards and couldn't look you the eye, but you never suspected.
You don't know what you would've done if you knew. You never thought about him that way.
Rodney wasn't in love with you, even if half of Atlantis were. People fell for your charm or your bravery or your kindness. The other half heard too many rumors to bother.
Rodney wasn't in love, but he did want to kiss you. Afterwards, he regretted never trying, not even once. He watched the blue dot that was your ship disappear, and clenched his hands and thought about how warm your lips would have been.
That's something else you never knew.
*
At your funeral, Elizabeth gave a moving speech about sacrifice and courage in the face of adversity. She said you were a tremendous leader who cared deeply about his people. She said you'd be missed; that was your favorite part.
Rodney said, "John wasn't really like Kirk." He meant to say, "John was a great friend and a great person," but he couldn't find the cue cards he wrote beforehand. You would've known what he meant.
You would've laughed because after all these years, it would take dying to finally hear him call you John.
If you'd been there, you would have patted him on the shoulder and told him it was okay. You would have gotten him drunk and let him worry about the dangers and decisions of a survival that was more fragile than you could ever imagine. You would've watched him cry, and wished you knew the right words to say.
You weren't there. Your ashes were scattered across the graveyard of the greatest space battle in the history of the Pegasus galaxy, but not the history of the universe though. This life is too small for that.
You died like the hero you never expected to be.
*
Two weeks after the funeral, Rodney resigns and leaves aboard the Daedalus. You weren't there to stop him.
It's not the first time he resigns, but only you knew about the time before. You never told anyone else, and neither did he.
The first time, Rodney's wife, who wasn't Katie Brown but another botanist, died on an off world mission. They had a son, a kid who called you Uncle John and who Rodney loved despite himself.
In the morning you got an email, an essay really, where Rodney talked about raising a child in a stable environment and the necessity of a proper social atmosphere in the company of his peers, not to mention the dietary constraints of Atlantis.
He didn't say "dangerous" or "fear" or "I miss her."
He said, "Therefore, I submit my formal resignation from the Atlantis division of the Stargate Program and request occupancy on the next departure of the Daedalus."
You tracked him down and said, "Don't do anything hasty, Rodney. Let's talk about this."
He said, "I'm not. I've thought this through."
You said, "No, you haven't. Because if you did, you'd realize that Atlantis needs you."
Rodney said, "Look, Colonel-"
You said, "And you need it. You love Atlantis as much as the rest of us, more even. This is your home, and you can't leave it no matter how much it hurts. And the Rodney McKay I know couldn't run away. There's too much to learn, and you wouldn't want Zelenka to steal your Nobel Prize."
It was one of the longest speeches you've ever made. You never told Rodney this, but you didn't say it for him; you said it for yourself. When you thought of seeing his back as he walked up the landing platform, your stomach clenched in knots and you wanted to beg him, threaten him, tie him down, anything.
He said, "He totally would, you know, that lying thief."
You said, "That's why you have to stay."
He said, "You can't force me, Colonel."
You said, "Yeah, I know.
You said, "Rodney, stay."
He stayed, like you knew he would.
But when he resigns the second time, he sends the email to Elizabeth. She says, "I understand," and she does.
When Rodney says goodbye to Atlantis, you are not there to see him off.
If you'd been alive, you would have talked him out of it. You'd want him in Atlantis. He knows this. You know that he knows.
He leaves anyway.
*
Rodney's been married before. All of Atlantis knows this, including his wife, because it was to you.
It was a quiet, private ceremony on P3X-824 where the natives interpreted friendly bickering as potential domestic bliss. Bliss because you hadn't killed each other yet.
“Every connection should be embraced,” they said like that explained everything.
You tried to argue back, but they only blinked and said, "We'll honour the bonding at sunset." By then you figured it wasn't worth the effort, and at least it wasn't legally binding.
You ate better than you had in months, and drank too much, so that you forgot to protest when you were ushered into the local equivalent of a honeymoon suite.
Rodney slept on the right side and didn't snore, though you always thought he would.
When you got back, Atlantis cheered with "Here Comes the Bride" and the bottle of champagne that they've been saving. News always travels fast here.
Rodney poked you in the side and said, "You should change your last name." When you glared back, he said, "What? It can't be me, I've published."
Later, you still got called "Mrs. McKay" when the kids were being contrary. You faked annoyance, but in the end, it was just another joke between you.
*
When you woke up next to Rodney on P3X-824 with your thigh against his, you scrambled awake and felt your face go red. It was weird, and there was too much hair and not enough layers between you. You watched him blink awake and thought it was cute though you'd never tell him that.
He blushed too, and said "Colonel," and you said "McKay" back.
He coughed, and you fiddled with the carvings on the headboard.
He said "How about those trade negotiations, eh?" and you said "Yeah, those were tough," and averted your eyes when he tried, and failed, to subtly put on his pants underneath the sheets.
When you woke up together after his wife died, your hands were touching, fingers curled around each other’s. You didn't pull back and neither did he.
He said "Hey," and you said "Hey."
He said "Thanks," and you said "Any time."
He said "How did you sleep?" and you said "Fine." You never told him, then or afterwards, how you spent most of that night awake, watching him and thinking about the length of his eyelashes, and how they stuck together when wet.
*
After you died, Elizabeth is the one to clean out your stuff. She trails warm fingertips over the soft cotton of your t-shirts and traces smiles on old photographs. She tells herself not to cry again, but she does anyway. She falls asleep on your bed whispering your name: John John John.
Teyla spends her time on the mainland amongst her people, getting to know new births and old friends. They hold remembrance ceremonies and share stories about Colonel Sheppard who liked Ferris wheels, and who woke the Wraith but saved them all. Teyla keeps a candle lit every night. It's not enough, but it's familiar and safe.
Ronon grumbles and yells and finds a voice of discontent like he never has before. His fights are dirtier and his shots are meaner, but he still jogs out to the south wing to listen to the waves. He times his runs carefully; he's racing himself now.
Atlantis rebels with a long series of minor glitches and failures that keep the science team constantly on their toes. The mistakes they fix taste nothing like victory, only the meander of life in the Pegasus Galaxy. It's the bigger problem they can't solve.
Rodney -who attacks every question with answers, who laughed with you at bad sci-fi movies and cried with you after losing old friends, who watched you grow into the man he admired, loved, who was the best friend you've ever had even though he never called you by your first name- Rodney runs away.
*
You never visited the far east pier of Atlantis. You always thought you knew every nook and cranny, but even after seven years within her walls, you've never made it that far.
You never went ice-skating. You spent too many days on sunny beaches as a child to learn. You were thirty-five before you could appreciate snow and ice, but by then, skating was one of the last things on your mind.
You never been on a NASA space shuttle. Before you hit adolescence and were "too cool" for such things, you used to dream about climbing your way to the stars. Rocket ships were your first love before you found planes.
You never lived in Florida though you flew over it more times than you can count.
You never got promoted to General, though you got further than anyone hoped when you first joined, too reckless and bold and determined to fit the military mold.
You've never been a father (though you've always liked kids). You've never been married (at least, not for longer than a day). You've never been in love with a girl (or a guy, for that matter).
There's an infinite amount of things you never did, but you did find family, home, here in the blue-green corridors of Atlantis.
*
When Rodney gets back to Earth, he will spend days starring at shadows before sitting down and writing that letter to your father. It will start:
Dear Colonel Sheppard,
Your son was a brave man.
He will never get much further than that.
Instead, it will be a young marine you never met who knocks on your father's door, and your father, your tough military father, will break down and cry like he did the day you were born.
You wouldn't have expected to him to, but then, you never really knew him that well.
You never got to apologize for that.
*
If there was an afterlife, you could tell someone about these things that you've never done.
There isn't one.
*
Much love to isiscolo for the wonderful beta. All remaining errors are of course my own.
Things You Never Did
johnrodney, pg
06 december 2005
*
You came into this world on the fifth of January in 1967, and your tough military father cried in a room full of strangers. Your mother was laughing, as sweet and clear as you will always remember.
You came into Rodney's life on the twenty-first of October in 2004 and made exotic, old technologies glow. You were thirty-five and going nowhere and too busy falling in love with the beautiful silence of Antarctica to ask life-changing questions like: should I go to another galaxy?
So you flipped a coin instead.
You came to Atlantis on the nineteenth of November, same year. You were coming home, but you didn't know it then.
You left this world, Atlantis, Rodney and everyone and everything you knew on the fifth of January in 2012, three days after the Wraith begun their attack and six days before they were defeated for good.
You were delivering another bomb to another Hive ship, just like the first time, except the Daedalus couldn't beam you out, not if you needed to get underneath the Wraith's jamming systems. You didn't know Atlantis would win; you were dead by then. If you had known, you would've gone anyway, because it had to be done.
It was your birthday, the day you died. Rodney gave you the last of his candy bars before you left.
*
You never kissed Rodney, never wanted to, didn't even really think about it. But then, you didn't know that he thought about it sometimes between moments or after all those times you were miraculously not dead. He usually got embarrassed afterwards and couldn't look you the eye, but you never suspected.
You don't know what you would've done if you knew. You never thought about him that way.
Rodney wasn't in love with you, even if half of Atlantis were. People fell for your charm or your bravery or your kindness. The other half heard too many rumors to bother.
Rodney wasn't in love, but he did want to kiss you. Afterwards, he regretted never trying, not even once. He watched the blue dot that was your ship disappear, and clenched his hands and thought about how warm your lips would have been.
That's something else you never knew.
*
At your funeral, Elizabeth gave a moving speech about sacrifice and courage in the face of adversity. She said you were a tremendous leader who cared deeply about his people. She said you'd be missed; that was your favorite part.
Rodney said, "John wasn't really like Kirk." He meant to say, "John was a great friend and a great person," but he couldn't find the cue cards he wrote beforehand. You would've known what he meant.
You would've laughed because after all these years, it would take dying to finally hear him call you John.
If you'd been there, you would have patted him on the shoulder and told him it was okay. You would have gotten him drunk and let him worry about the dangers and decisions of a survival that was more fragile than you could ever imagine. You would've watched him cry, and wished you knew the right words to say.
You weren't there. Your ashes were scattered across the graveyard of the greatest space battle in the history of the Pegasus galaxy, but not the history of the universe though. This life is too small for that.
You died like the hero you never expected to be.
*
Two weeks after the funeral, Rodney resigns and leaves aboard the Daedalus. You weren't there to stop him.
It's not the first time he resigns, but only you knew about the time before. You never told anyone else, and neither did he.
The first time, Rodney's wife, who wasn't Katie Brown but another botanist, died on an off world mission. They had a son, a kid who called you Uncle John and who Rodney loved despite himself.
In the morning you got an email, an essay really, where Rodney talked about raising a child in a stable environment and the necessity of a proper social atmosphere in the company of his peers, not to mention the dietary constraints of Atlantis.
He didn't say "dangerous" or "fear" or "I miss her."
He said, "Therefore, I submit my formal resignation from the Atlantis division of the Stargate Program and request occupancy on the next departure of the Daedalus."
You tracked him down and said, "Don't do anything hasty, Rodney. Let's talk about this."
He said, "I'm not. I've thought this through."
You said, "No, you haven't. Because if you did, you'd realize that Atlantis needs you."
Rodney said, "Look, Colonel-"
You said, "And you need it. You love Atlantis as much as the rest of us, more even. This is your home, and you can't leave it no matter how much it hurts. And the Rodney McKay I know couldn't run away. There's too much to learn, and you wouldn't want Zelenka to steal your Nobel Prize."
It was one of the longest speeches you've ever made. You never told Rodney this, but you didn't say it for him; you said it for yourself. When you thought of seeing his back as he walked up the landing platform, your stomach clenched in knots and you wanted to beg him, threaten him, tie him down, anything.
He said, "He totally would, you know, that lying thief."
You said, "That's why you have to stay."
He said, "You can't force me, Colonel."
You said, "Yeah, I know.
You said, "Rodney, stay."
He stayed, like you knew he would.
But when he resigns the second time, he sends the email to Elizabeth. She says, "I understand," and she does.
When Rodney says goodbye to Atlantis, you are not there to see him off.
If you'd been alive, you would have talked him out of it. You'd want him in Atlantis. He knows this. You know that he knows.
He leaves anyway.
*
Rodney's been married before. All of Atlantis knows this, including his wife, because it was to you.
It was a quiet, private ceremony on P3X-824 where the natives interpreted friendly bickering as potential domestic bliss. Bliss because you hadn't killed each other yet.
“Every connection should be embraced,” they said like that explained everything.
You tried to argue back, but they only blinked and said, "We'll honour the bonding at sunset." By then you figured it wasn't worth the effort, and at least it wasn't legally binding.
You ate better than you had in months, and drank too much, so that you forgot to protest when you were ushered into the local equivalent of a honeymoon suite.
Rodney slept on the right side and didn't snore, though you always thought he would.
When you got back, Atlantis cheered with "Here Comes the Bride" and the bottle of champagne that they've been saving. News always travels fast here.
Rodney poked you in the side and said, "You should change your last name." When you glared back, he said, "What? It can't be me, I've published."
Later, you still got called "Mrs. McKay" when the kids were being contrary. You faked annoyance, but in the end, it was just another joke between you.
*
When you woke up next to Rodney on P3X-824 with your thigh against his, you scrambled awake and felt your face go red. It was weird, and there was too much hair and not enough layers between you. You watched him blink awake and thought it was cute though you'd never tell him that.
He blushed too, and said "Colonel," and you said "McKay" back.
He coughed, and you fiddled with the carvings on the headboard.
He said "How about those trade negotiations, eh?" and you said "Yeah, those were tough," and averted your eyes when he tried, and failed, to subtly put on his pants underneath the sheets.
When you woke up together after his wife died, your hands were touching, fingers curled around each other’s. You didn't pull back and neither did he.
He said "Hey," and you said "Hey."
He said "Thanks," and you said "Any time."
He said "How did you sleep?" and you said "Fine." You never told him, then or afterwards, how you spent most of that night awake, watching him and thinking about the length of his eyelashes, and how they stuck together when wet.
*
After you died, Elizabeth is the one to clean out your stuff. She trails warm fingertips over the soft cotton of your t-shirts and traces smiles on old photographs. She tells herself not to cry again, but she does anyway. She falls asleep on your bed whispering your name: John John John.
Teyla spends her time on the mainland amongst her people, getting to know new births and old friends. They hold remembrance ceremonies and share stories about Colonel Sheppard who liked Ferris wheels, and who woke the Wraith but saved them all. Teyla keeps a candle lit every night. It's not enough, but it's familiar and safe.
Ronon grumbles and yells and finds a voice of discontent like he never has before. His fights are dirtier and his shots are meaner, but he still jogs out to the south wing to listen to the waves. He times his runs carefully; he's racing himself now.
Atlantis rebels with a long series of minor glitches and failures that keep the science team constantly on their toes. The mistakes they fix taste nothing like victory, only the meander of life in the Pegasus Galaxy. It's the bigger problem they can't solve.
Rodney -who attacks every question with answers, who laughed with you at bad sci-fi movies and cried with you after losing old friends, who watched you grow into the man he admired, loved, who was the best friend you've ever had even though he never called you by your first name- Rodney runs away.
*
You never visited the far east pier of Atlantis. You always thought you knew every nook and cranny, but even after seven years within her walls, you've never made it that far.
You never went ice-skating. You spent too many days on sunny beaches as a child to learn. You were thirty-five before you could appreciate snow and ice, but by then, skating was one of the last things on your mind.
You never been on a NASA space shuttle. Before you hit adolescence and were "too cool" for such things, you used to dream about climbing your way to the stars. Rocket ships were your first love before you found planes.
You never lived in Florida though you flew over it more times than you can count.
You never got promoted to General, though you got further than anyone hoped when you first joined, too reckless and bold and determined to fit the military mold.
You've never been a father (though you've always liked kids). You've never been married (at least, not for longer than a day). You've never been in love with a girl (or a guy, for that matter).
There's an infinite amount of things you never did, but you did find family, home, here in the blue-green corridors of Atlantis.
*
When Rodney gets back to Earth, he will spend days starring at shadows before sitting down and writing that letter to your father. It will start:
Dear Colonel Sheppard,
Your son was a brave man.
He will never get much further than that.
Instead, it will be a young marine you never met who knocks on your father's door, and your father, your tough military father, will break down and cry like he did the day you were born.
You wouldn't have expected to him to, but then, you never really knew him that well.
You never got to apologize for that.
*
If there was an afterlife, you could tell someone about these things that you've never done.
There isn't one.
*