Fic: Daylight Fading
Title: Daylight Fading
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Spoilers: Through Aurora.
Rating: T; contains some swearing
Word Count: 9995. Really.
Author's Notes: This is McKay/Cadman... pre-friendship, taking place after Aurora. It also has possibly the sappiest ending ever written, but the rest is all angsty and bitter so...
Thanks to groovekittie the excellent beta. I'm sorry it was no longer, but there's more of the 'verse to come.
The sky above Atlantis was a deep indigo blue, lightening towards the western horizon where the sun was sinking into the ocean. The air was crisp and cool, a light breeze wafting over the balcony where Rodney McKay stood staring down, his mood as dark as the waters that washed against the city structure.
Lifting his glass, he finished off a third measure of wine. He knew he was getting drunk but he frankly didn't give a fuck. He glared at the water. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They had come to Atlantis to find the Ancients, to discover more about the race that had built the Stargate, to find a way of beating the Goa'uld once and for all and free the thousands of planets under their control. They weren't supposed to end up finding a race worse than the Goa'uld, they weren't supposed to have so many people die,for it to completely and utterly end up shit.
Rodney sighed heavily. It was too late now. He'd made his choice and come here, and now the Wraith were awake and every single moment of his life from then to now he'd spent fighting to save the city, his team, himself. It wasn't likely to change any time soon either.
He heard a step behind and stiffened. He'd come out here to be alone. Brooding wasn't something you could do effectively with an audience.
“Rodney?”
The tentative query surprised him. He'd expected John or Elizabeth. He'd not expected her.
Rodney turned round and regarded Laura Cadman. She stood there, an uncertain expression on her face and a haunted look in her eyes. He didn't doubt for a moment that same look was reflected in his.
“Cadman,” he said. “Come to join the party?”
He couldn't help the sourness in his tone. She grimaced and crossed to the balcony. She stared up at the stars that were emerging as the daylight faded. Rodney hadn't been looking upwards; he didn't really want to think about what was up. Or rather, what had been up.
“You okay?” she asked him suddenly.
He snorted. “Not particularly.”
“No.”
A silence fell between them. Laura studied the stars as Rodney refilled his glass. The wine was Athosian and really rather strong. He looked at the bottle and then offered the glass to Laura. She took it and he clinked the bottle against it in a silent toast. She smiled faintly and drank. She looked back up.
“We should name a star after them,” she announced quietly.
“Just the one?”
“A constellation then.”
Rodney thought about that. It seemed like quiet a good idea, but he was pretty drunk. Still...
“Which one?”
Laura gazed at the stars. She could remember the co-ordinates of where the Aurora had been when... when it had done what it had done. It was too far away to be seen from Atlantis, but there were stars around the area that could be. She pointed at them.
“That one.”
“Okay,” Rodney agreed. “How exactly do you name a constellation?”
Finishing her wine, Laura held her glass out imperiously for more. She watched Rodney refill it, noticing how he wasn't all that steady now. She eyed him carefully.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough,” he retorted.
She might have argued that any other time, but somewhere out amongst the stars a ship was burning, its crew dead. Rodney had spoken to those people. She shuddered slightly and nodded her understanding.
Turning her attention back to the sky, she lifted her glass.
“To Aurora,” she said softly. “Forever amongst the stars.”
Her words broke the last of Rodney's resolve and he sagged against one of the uprights, his eyes closed. Yet more death; it was too much.
Laura had started to drink but when Rodney didn't respond, she glanced round and was startled by the utter grief on his face.
“Rodney?” He shook his head and she moved to his side. “Rodney, what's wrong?”
“What's wrong?” he echoed quietly, his tone despairing. “What's right Cadman? There were hundreds of people on the Aurora and now they're dead. It's... it's not right.”
“I know,” she replied. “But... but they would have died anyway. Their bodies were too old.” She looked at him, guessing what the crux of his despair was. “There was nothing you could do Rodney.”
She took his hand and found it cold as ice. She rubbed it, trying to offer some comfort.
“Maybe not this time,” he answered darkly. “But what about the others?”
“What others?”
“You want a list?” he snapped, pulling his hand from hers and stalking away. He turned and glared at her but she immediately realised his anger was at himself. “How about Abrams and Gaul; both of whom I chose for a mission? Or Wagner and Johnson, Dumais, Peterson and Hays? They were all members of my team and now they're dead. And let's not forget Peter Grodin who died because I couldn't mend a fucking satellite!”
Laura took a step back, shocked at the level of grief and fury Rodney displayed. It went beyond the anger he'd aimed at her direction when she'd overstepped the line during their time locked together. She stared at him, registering the raw pain evident in his eyes.
There was a hoarse sob and he sank to the floor, and there was no way Laura could have remained where she was in the face of such utter grief. She went to him and wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened immediately, making a noise of protest and a half-hearted attempt to extract himself, both of which she ignored.
Rodney had been surprised by Laura's sudden embrace, trying to pull away, but her grip was stronger than he would have credited. He gave up, unable to fight her and the overwhelming surge of emotion from within him. Sagging against her, he let go for the first time since he'd arrived at Atlantis.
Laura felt him shake with silent sobs and rested her cheek against his head. She understood, she felt the same agony over the loss of Aurora. She had been shocked to the core by their sacrifice and wondered what it must be like to spend so long travelling and yet not arrive at the destination. Her own eyes teared, but rather than banking them down as she normally would, she allowed them to spill over.
She wondered what this was now, this odd relationship with Rodney. They had shared so much, been through an incredible experience together, yet they still knew next to nothing about each other and she doubt he'd even call her a friend. They were beyond friendship but still nowhere near.
It was partly due to Rodney keeping her at more than arm's length - he'd basically ignored her since the morning after they'd been extracted from the Wraith machine. She wasn't surprised; she'd witnessed how he was with most people - obtuse and difficult and snarky. But the amount of guilt he'd been carrying, most likely without anyone on Atlantis knowing, shocked and humbled her.
She'd known that beneath the very prickly, sarcastic exterior was a large hearted man who cared more than he let on about this city and those who occupied it. And if she'd ever doubted that, the list of those whose deaths he considered himself responsible for would have dispelled them.
Finally Rodney managed to get a hold of himself. However he didn't pull away from Laura. He decided it wasn't so bad, being comforted by her. She didn't say anything, didn't mumble the usual crap he heard in these circumstances, she just knelt there holding him. He realised Laura was probably a safe bet; she was unlikely to mention this later, whereas with Sheppard - or god forbid Heightmeyer - it would be recorded.
He drew back and looked at her, immediately noticing the wet trails down her face. He reached out, drying them with a brisk sweep of his thumb. For a moment he left his hand on her cheek and her eyelids swept down. She sighed heavily, then looked at him again. He gave her a wan smile.
“Where were we?” he asked, his voice slightly rough.
Laura gave a soft, humourless laugh and recovered the bottle of wine and her glass, drinking the wine left in it. She refilled it and gave the bottle to Rodney.
“I think we were up to drinking,” she said.
“Most probably,” he agreed. They did so, then Rodney looked upwards. “So which one is it? We ought to make notes. You know, so we can tell everyone else?”
Laura twisted round and pointed. “That one,” she said and finished off another glass.
“The Aurora Constellation,” he mused. “Sounds good.”
“That it does.”
“Cadman?”
“Laura.”
“Okay, then. Laura?”
“Yes, Rodney?”
“Is it just me or is it really cold out here?”
She chuckled at that. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Rodney rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet and held out a hand to Laura. She took it and he helped her to her feet. She wavered and then giggled.
“You're tipsy, Lieutenant,” he noted cheerfully.
“That's nothing,” she replied. “You're completely pissed.”
“Not yet I'm not, but I think that's better done somewhere warmer and with a bed handy.”
Laura blinked, for the briefest moment wondering if he was coming onto her, before dismissing that thought as a product of too much wine. Plus he'd made his way to the balcony and wasn't looking at her anyway. She crossed and stood next to him. He offered the bottle but she shook her head.
“Wuss,” he murmured.
“I'm not,” she said. “I just value a clear head in the morning.”
“You? You don't do mornings if I remember correctly.”
“Whatever. I won't be the one with a hangover.”
“Wuss,” he said again.
“I could drink you under the table McKay.”
Rodney looked at her, his mouth quirking into a smile. “Is that a challenge?”
Laura returned his gaze steadily. “If you like.”
“Alright, you're on,” he replied.
She didn't even blink and that made him grin more. Despite his best efforts, he was beginning to like this young woman. Unlike others that he knew, she was completely unfazed by his tendency for biting sarcasm. In fact, she gave as good as she got and he quite liked that. She was grinning at him now, and he found the awfulness of the day fading slightly at the brightness of that smile.
“Come on,” he said then, grabbing her hand. “Let's go announce our new constellation.”
Laura's laughter drifted up to the clear night sky where the stars of Aurora glittered brightly.
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Spoilers: Through Aurora.
Rating: T; contains some swearing
Word Count: 9995. Really.
Author's Notes: This is McKay/Cadman... pre-friendship, taking place after Aurora. It also has possibly the sappiest ending ever written, but the rest is all angsty and bitter so...
Thanks to groovekittie the excellent beta. I'm sorry it was no longer, but there's more of the 'verse to come.
The sky above Atlantis was a deep indigo blue, lightening towards the western horizon where the sun was sinking into the ocean. The air was crisp and cool, a light breeze wafting over the balcony where Rodney McKay stood staring down, his mood as dark as the waters that washed against the city structure.
Lifting his glass, he finished off a third measure of wine. He knew he was getting drunk but he frankly didn't give a fuck. He glared at the water. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They had come to Atlantis to find the Ancients, to discover more about the race that had built the Stargate, to find a way of beating the Goa'uld once and for all and free the thousands of planets under their control. They weren't supposed to end up finding a race worse than the Goa'uld, they weren't supposed to have so many people die,for it to completely and utterly end up shit.
Rodney sighed heavily. It was too late now. He'd made his choice and come here, and now the Wraith were awake and every single moment of his life from then to now he'd spent fighting to save the city, his team, himself. It wasn't likely to change any time soon either.
He heard a step behind and stiffened. He'd come out here to be alone. Brooding wasn't something you could do effectively with an audience.
“Rodney?”
The tentative query surprised him. He'd expected John or Elizabeth. He'd not expected her.
Rodney turned round and regarded Laura Cadman. She stood there, an uncertain expression on her face and a haunted look in her eyes. He didn't doubt for a moment that same look was reflected in his.
“Cadman,” he said. “Come to join the party?”
He couldn't help the sourness in his tone. She grimaced and crossed to the balcony. She stared up at the stars that were emerging as the daylight faded. Rodney hadn't been looking upwards; he didn't really want to think about what was up. Or rather, what had been up.
“You okay?” she asked him suddenly.
He snorted. “Not particularly.”
“No.”
A silence fell between them. Laura studied the stars as Rodney refilled his glass. The wine was Athosian and really rather strong. He looked at the bottle and then offered the glass to Laura. She took it and he clinked the bottle against it in a silent toast. She smiled faintly and drank. She looked back up.
“We should name a star after them,” she announced quietly.
“Just the one?”
“A constellation then.”
Rodney thought about that. It seemed like quiet a good idea, but he was pretty drunk. Still...
“Which one?”
Laura gazed at the stars. She could remember the co-ordinates of where the Aurora had been when... when it had done what it had done. It was too far away to be seen from Atlantis, but there were stars around the area that could be. She pointed at them.
“That one.”
“Okay,” Rodney agreed. “How exactly do you name a constellation?”
Finishing her wine, Laura held her glass out imperiously for more. She watched Rodney refill it, noticing how he wasn't all that steady now. She eyed him carefully.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough,” he retorted.
She might have argued that any other time, but somewhere out amongst the stars a ship was burning, its crew dead. Rodney had spoken to those people. She shuddered slightly and nodded her understanding.
Turning her attention back to the sky, she lifted her glass.
“To Aurora,” she said softly. “Forever amongst the stars.”
Her words broke the last of Rodney's resolve and he sagged against one of the uprights, his eyes closed. Yet more death; it was too much.
Laura had started to drink but when Rodney didn't respond, she glanced round and was startled by the utter grief on his face.
“Rodney?” He shook his head and she moved to his side. “Rodney, what's wrong?”
“What's wrong?” he echoed quietly, his tone despairing. “What's right Cadman? There were hundreds of people on the Aurora and now they're dead. It's... it's not right.”
“I know,” she replied. “But... but they would have died anyway. Their bodies were too old.” She looked at him, guessing what the crux of his despair was. “There was nothing you could do Rodney.”
She took his hand and found it cold as ice. She rubbed it, trying to offer some comfort.
“Maybe not this time,” he answered darkly. “But what about the others?”
“What others?”
“You want a list?” he snapped, pulling his hand from hers and stalking away. He turned and glared at her but she immediately realised his anger was at himself. “How about Abrams and Gaul; both of whom I chose for a mission? Or Wagner and Johnson, Dumais, Peterson and Hays? They were all members of my team and now they're dead. And let's not forget Peter Grodin who died because I couldn't mend a fucking satellite!”
Laura took a step back, shocked at the level of grief and fury Rodney displayed. It went beyond the anger he'd aimed at her direction when she'd overstepped the line during their time locked together. She stared at him, registering the raw pain evident in his eyes.
There was a hoarse sob and he sank to the floor, and there was no way Laura could have remained where she was in the face of such utter grief. She went to him and wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened immediately, making a noise of protest and a half-hearted attempt to extract himself, both of which she ignored.
Rodney had been surprised by Laura's sudden embrace, trying to pull away, but her grip was stronger than he would have credited. He gave up, unable to fight her and the overwhelming surge of emotion from within him. Sagging against her, he let go for the first time since he'd arrived at Atlantis.
Laura felt him shake with silent sobs and rested her cheek against his head. She understood, she felt the same agony over the loss of Aurora. She had been shocked to the core by their sacrifice and wondered what it must be like to spend so long travelling and yet not arrive at the destination. Her own eyes teared, but rather than banking them down as she normally would, she allowed them to spill over.
She wondered what this was now, this odd relationship with Rodney. They had shared so much, been through an incredible experience together, yet they still knew next to nothing about each other and she doubt he'd even call her a friend. They were beyond friendship but still nowhere near.
It was partly due to Rodney keeping her at more than arm's length - he'd basically ignored her since the morning after they'd been extracted from the Wraith machine. She wasn't surprised; she'd witnessed how he was with most people - obtuse and difficult and snarky. But the amount of guilt he'd been carrying, most likely without anyone on Atlantis knowing, shocked and humbled her.
She'd known that beneath the very prickly, sarcastic exterior was a large hearted man who cared more than he let on about this city and those who occupied it. And if she'd ever doubted that, the list of those whose deaths he considered himself responsible for would have dispelled them.
Finally Rodney managed to get a hold of himself. However he didn't pull away from Laura. He decided it wasn't so bad, being comforted by her. She didn't say anything, didn't mumble the usual crap he heard in these circumstances, she just knelt there holding him. He realised Laura was probably a safe bet; she was unlikely to mention this later, whereas with Sheppard - or god forbid Heightmeyer - it would be recorded.
He drew back and looked at her, immediately noticing the wet trails down her face. He reached out, drying them with a brisk sweep of his thumb. For a moment he left his hand on her cheek and her eyelids swept down. She sighed heavily, then looked at him again. He gave her a wan smile.
“Where were we?” he asked, his voice slightly rough.
Laura gave a soft, humourless laugh and recovered the bottle of wine and her glass, drinking the wine left in it. She refilled it and gave the bottle to Rodney.
“I think we were up to drinking,” she said.
“Most probably,” he agreed. They did so, then Rodney looked upwards. “So which one is it? We ought to make notes. You know, so we can tell everyone else?”
Laura twisted round and pointed. “That one,” she said and finished off another glass.
“The Aurora Constellation,” he mused. “Sounds good.”
“That it does.”
“Cadman?”
“Laura.”
“Okay, then. Laura?”
“Yes, Rodney?”
“Is it just me or is it really cold out here?”
She chuckled at that. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Rodney rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet and held out a hand to Laura. She took it and he helped her to her feet. She wavered and then giggled.
“You're tipsy, Lieutenant,” he noted cheerfully.
“That's nothing,” she replied. “You're completely pissed.”
“Not yet I'm not, but I think that's better done somewhere warmer and with a bed handy.”
Laura blinked, for the briefest moment wondering if he was coming onto her, before dismissing that thought as a product of too much wine. Plus he'd made his way to the balcony and wasn't looking at her anyway. She crossed and stood next to him. He offered the bottle but she shook her head.
“Wuss,” he murmured.
“I'm not,” she said. “I just value a clear head in the morning.”
“You? You don't do mornings if I remember correctly.”
“Whatever. I won't be the one with a hangover.”
“Wuss,” he said again.
“I could drink you under the table McKay.”
Rodney looked at her, his mouth quirking into a smile. “Is that a challenge?”
Laura returned his gaze steadily. “If you like.”
“Alright, you're on,” he replied.
She didn't even blink and that made him grin more. Despite his best efforts, he was beginning to like this young woman. Unlike others that he knew, she was completely unfazed by his tendency for biting sarcasm. In fact, she gave as good as she got and he quite liked that. She was grinning at him now, and he found the awfulness of the day fading slightly at the brightness of that smile.
“Come on,” he said then, grabbing her hand. “Let's go announce our new constellation.”
Laura's laughter drifted up to the clear night sky where the stars of Aurora glittered brightly.