Dead Like Them: Dead Man Walking
Dead Like Them: Dead Man Walking
John/Rodney Pre-Slash
SG1/Atlantis/Dead Like Me crossover AU
"I'm never going to be like you, or like John," Rodney said desperately. "You'd be better off getting someone else to do this."
Dead Like Them: Dead Man Walking
Art by laytoncolt
Part One
_______
Rodney should probably have been a little disconcerted that his afterlife, as it was, had not a few benefits more than he'd ever managed during his life. When he'd been alive, guys like John wouldn't have given him the time of day, guys like John were naturally cool, and Rodney, while he had the most brilliant mind to ever walk the Earth, tended to get tongue tied in social situations. Guys like John, when he'd been alive, certainly wouldn't let him move in and bring him coffee in the mornings, or make him breakfast without being asked.
John even rented The Sixth Sense for him after Rodney had mentioned never getting to see the end. They watched the whole thing together, and considering his situation, Rodney found the ending eerily appropriate.
That wasn't to say he was having the time of his life, or unlife, or whatever. He missed his lab, his work, even Radek, but most of all, he missed his cat.
It still felt a little odd, sneaking in through Elizabeth Weir's window and creeping across her living room, though, and he gave himself a moment to have second thoughts before pressing on. He felt like some kind of pervert or peeping Tom, but he reminded himself that he wasn't here to spy on Elizabeth.
He was here for his cat. Elizabeth had always been after his cat, always coming over with excuses just to try and draw Thales away, and so tracking Thales down had been pathetically easy. He spotted him curled up on the sofa, the small cat bed Elizabeth had placed out for him had been scratched almost to pieces and flipped over in distain. He obviously wasn't happy about not having a real bed. Living with Rodney, he usually got it all to himself, because Rodney had a habit of falling asleep in the lab.
"Thales," he whispered.
Thales opened one eye and glanced at him in disgust before going back to sleep.
"It's me, you stupid cat," Rodney hissed.
Thales didn't move, but Rodney heard someone walking around in the bedroom, and a moment later he heard Elizabeth call out, "Is someone there?"
Rodney's eyes went wide. "Fuck," he whispered, before grabbing Thales up. The cat screeched in protest, but Rodney didn't pause; he just jumped out the window and started running.
Elizabeth could get her own damn cat; this one was his.
-----
The first thing John said was, "Please tell me you didn't."
Rodney was covered in mud up to his knees from where he'd tripped in Elizabeth's garden, and Thales was mud splattered and trying to twist out of his grip, so Rodney decided John must be really optimistic thinking there was a chance he hadn't. "I didn't," he said anyway, obediently.
John collapsed onto his couch and placed his head in his hands. "Rodney," he said, sounding a little pained.
"Is this about the mud?" Rodney asked, looking at the trail of muddy footprints he'd left. "I know you're anal about cleanliness. I'll clean it, okay? You'll never know the difference."
"You stole that cat," John said, glancing up at him. "I can't believe you."
"It's my cat," Rodney said, just as Thales jumped out of his arms and went to hide under the coffee table.
"You're dead," John told him.
"I'm undead," Rodney corrected primly, because John had done it to him often enough. "And I missed my cat. You can't tell me that the cat runs a risk of spreading the news I'm undead. The cat is not a security risk."
"That's not the point," John said. "You can't...you have to let go."
"It's not like I kidnapped Radek," Rodney said. "Elizabeth doesn't know what to do with Thales. She was treating him like just any cat, but he's very smart. He has special needs."
"Rodney," John said again.
Rodney took a deep breath. "Look, do you want me to leave? Is that what this is about? Because I know I was only supposed to crash here for a few days, but as soon as I can get a job--"
"It's not that," John said with a sigh. "Although you will be cleaning up that mud." John ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just worried about you, okay?"
"Didn't you ever try," Rodney started haltingly. "I mean, didn't you ever want something? Something to connect you with what you had?"
John wouldn't look at him. "No," he said. "There was nothing I wanted to remember."
"I guess you were lucky then," Rodney said.
"That's one way to look at it," John said. "Just...keep the cat out of sight, okay? Animals aren't allowed in this building."
Rodney let out a relieved breath, and gave a small smile. "No one will be the wiser, I promise."
-----
Rodney was getting into a routine. It was a fucked up routine, but a routine nonetheless. He'd wake up face down on the couch and pass a wet John on his way to the shower, and if the cosmos really wanted to torture him, then John would only be wearing a towel and looking like he'd walked out of an ad for Lever 2000.
By the time he took his own shower, John would have the coffee made, and then they'd head off to O'Malley's to receive a post-it with the name of whoever's soul they were supposed to take that day.
So when the door buzzed at seven in the morning, it threw him off. John didn't seem surprised, and just glanced at him briefly before asking him levelly, "Can you get that?"
It was Jack. He was leaning against the doorjamb, smiling falsely, when he pulled the door open, and Rodney cursed. He turned to glare at John. "You told on me?" he snapped.
John gave him a tight smile and then looked back at his coffee, which was answer enough.
"Let's go for a walk, shall we?" Jack asked.
Rodney winced, but allowed himself to be pulled out the door. "I just wanted my cat," Rodney snapped. "What's so wrong with that?"
"It wasn't your cat anymore," Jack said. "John convinced me to let you get away with it this once, but it has to end here, understand?"
Rodney glared at him. "I don't get how you can all be so unattached. I just died I'm allowed to...you know, freak out a little."
"Freak out all you like," Jack told him amiably. "Just do it without dragging anyone living into it, okay?"
"I'm never going to be like you, or like John," Rodney said desperately. "You'd be better off getting someone else to do this."
Jack grinned brightly. "Oh, if only I could," he said. "Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. We're stuck with each other. You should just be grateful that for whatever inexplicable reason, John seems to like you. He's never let anyone stay in that apartment more than fifteen minutes as long as I've known him."
Rodney's eyes widened. "Really?"
Jack shrugged. "I've always known John was a strange one. He likes the craziest things."
Rodney frowned, and glanced back at the closed door for a moment. "Do you know how he--I mean, were you there when...?"
"Was I there when he died?" Jack asked. He slipped his hands into his pockets and rolled back on his heels. "Yeah, I was."
"How did he die?" Rodney asked. Rodney figured that in a world of the undead, death was a fairly defining moment, but he couldn't get John to reveal anything.
Jack gave a slight smile. "That's something you're going to have to ask him," he said, before effortlessly spinning on his heel and leaving Rodney in the hallway. "Don't be late."
-----
Rodney traipsed back into the apartment; slightly chastised, but if he was being honest with himself not enough for him to regret retrieving Thales--and not enough for him to be okay with just forgetting his life. The others might be fine with cutting themselves off--maybe the rest of them were like John and didn't have anything that they wanted to hang on to but Rodney wasn't like them. He had his work, and Thales, and his overwhelming genius and even though it still sometimes surprised him (because Rodney wasn't a genius in name only and knew that he could sometimes be--difficult to be around) he had friends--and he missed his life.
John was rinsing out his coffee mug at the sink when Rodney walked back into the apartment, and even though Rodney wanted to be mad at him for tattling on him to Jack, he really couldn't--not when John was being so nice to him, not when he could see that John was just worried.
Thales was rubbing up against John's leg, probably hoping to entice some food out of him and Rodney smiled when John nudged the cat over onto his side, rubbing Thales' belly with his foot as he quickly dried his newly washed mug. "He likes you."
John turned with a smirk. "I think he's just trying to suck up so I'll give him something to eat."
Rodney bent down and picked Thales up, cradling him in his arms. "Probably."
John snorted.
"So listen--" Rodney cleared his throat. "I appreciate that you only told Jack because you're worried..."
"I told Jack," John interrupted with a shake of his head, "because you didn't listen to me, Rodney. Yes, I'm worried--but you have to understand the rules." John folded his arms. "You can't go back. You can't capture some part of your life that you think you lost unfairly. You're not the same person anymore, Rodney, and you have to move on."
"It's not that simple," Rodney snapped in frustration, letting Thales jump from his arms. "I can't just be blasé about this whole thing. I fucking died, John. There was still so much I had planned for my life. There's so god damned much that I will never be able to do and it's not fucking FAIR!"
Rodney took a deep breath and John stared at him intently, not saying anything before giving a slight nod and pushing away from the counter. "We're going to be late."
"That's it?" Rodney asked.
"I don't know what you expect from me, Rodney." John sighed. "I can't tell you that it's fair, and telling you that it was just your time isn't going to help you either. All I know is that hanging on--trying to live your afterlife in the shadow of your former life is going to bring you nothing but pain. It's not easy to let go--no one ever said it was going to be--but it's so much harder hanging on." John looked at Rodney, sadness in his eyes. "We've all been dead a long time, Rodney--you just have to trust us on this one."
"I can't promise you anything," Rodney said quietly.
"You have to try," John answered, squeezing Rodney's shoulder and heading out of the kitchen. "We have to go--"
Rodney swallowed thickly before asking quickly, "How did you die?"
John paused at the entryway to the kitchen, his back still to Rodney. "Doing what I thought was right."
He doesn't say anything else and Rodney follows him when he leaves for O'Malley's.
___
Daniel was on babysitting detail that morning. Rodney huffed with annoyance when the man sneezed again. "I'm allergic to cats," Daniel explained and Rodney rolled his eyes.
His post-it took him to a car dealership on South St. and Sixth and he saw a fat, balding man in a blindingly bright sports jacket that looked like he bought it from a carpet salesman, step out of the dealership. What little hair he had was slicked back, greasy just like his smile and he stuck out his hand a good twenty feet before he reached them, walking towards them with it outstretched and making himself look like a reject from some cheesy zombie movie.
After Rodney and Daniel explained they were just looking, and after Rodney sputtered out a denial when the man assumed he and Daniel were 'partners', Rodney wandered the lot looking for S. Martinez--not that he at all knew where to find his...reap, while Daniel just wandered. Rodney was actually grateful for the space Daniel was giving him. John had given him a lot to think about this morning, and though he honestly wasn't ready to just give up everything from his former life, he was willing to at least think about what John told him.
At 10:46 a.m. Rodney saw a man strolling towards him, a wide smile, and a swing in his step. He wasn't sure yet how the whole reaping thing worked but when he saw the man something whispered in the back of his mind that this was the person he'd been waiting for.
"Mr. Martinez?" Rodney called and the man stopped, turning an inquisitive look in Rodney's direction.
"Do I know you?"
"Are you George Martinez?" Rodney asked, knowing full well the man’s name wasn’t George, taking a step closer and the man shook his head.
"No, sorry--my name is Sam Martinez."
Rodney apologized, reaching out and touching Martinez's arm before watching him walk away. Daniel came up beside Rodney, hands in his pockets. "You're getting the hang of this."
Rodney snorted, watching as a man pulled up to the front of the dealership, jumping out with the car still running-stupid, but then, Rodney had always believed the majority of people were brainless. Inside the car Rodney caught a glimpse of something. "What the--" He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out a clearer picture of what he was seeing.
"Gravelings," Daniel said quietly as they watched the creature pull the car out of park; watched as it rolled into the side of the dealership; watched as the sign hanging from the building wobbled to and fro and finally watched as Sam Martinez walked right under it just as the metal holding it to the building broke away.
Rodney remembered John mentioning them. "They make bad things happen," he said and Daniel nodded.
In the blink of an eye Martinez was standing beside Rodney and Daniel, looking confused and shaken. "What happened?" He saw his body, partially covered by the sign, and swore quietly to himself before turning to Rodney and Daniel. "I won the lottery last week," he said, his voice filled with shock. "I was coming to buy my very first new car."
Rodney's mouth was turned down and he shook his head. "Hardly seems fair, does it?"
Behind them the shimmering light appeared again. This time Rodney saw a beautiful woman with long dark hair, soulful chocolate eyes, smiling and waving towards Sam. Sam whispered, “Maria?” before taking a step closer, his eyes wide. Rodney ignored the pang of jealousy as he watched Sam running towards her and disappearing into the light just like every other person he'd reaped since he died.
____
Now that Rodney had done his reap he told Daniel that he was going to head home, that he needed to check on Thales and since Daniel still had his own reap to do (not to mention his allergies to cats) he left Rodney on the corner of Tenth and Stewart with a wave and a smile.
He doesn't go back to John's apartment, instead wanders outside the lab, his throat tight and his stomach clenched. He should be in there, making discoveries, figuring out the answers to the universe, earning a Nobel Prize...he ducked behind a tree when he saw Elizabeth and Radek hurrying into the building. He can hear Radek's excited stream of Czech all the way from where he is and his heart begins to beat faster--the desire to run after them, to demand to know what is going on, to be involved, is so strong he can taste it.
Forcing himself away from the lab he eventually found himself back at John's apartment, slipping inside, locking the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes, wandering around the empty apartment for a few minutes before seeing Thales curled up on one of John's pillows. Rodney smiled because for one brief second he could pretend he wasn't dead, that he wasn't living some farce of a life, taking souls and easing their passage to the afterlife; instead pretending he was simply coming home after a long day at the lab to find Thales curled up on his bed.
John's reap wasn't until later that afternoon and it was now just after lunch. Crawling onto the bed, his head beside Thales' sleep warm body, Rodney closed his eyes.
____
Rodney woke up with the sun in his eyes and he winced. Thales was on his back, purring and stretched out on a pillow. Rodney sat up and looked around the room. "John?"
He got to his feet and checked around quickly, but John wasn't there. He sat down in front of the TV and watched the sci-fi channel for a few hours, all of which seemed a lot more plausible considering he felt like he was living something that had less scientific basis than Star Trek did.
He fell asleep in front of the TV and didn't wake up until morning. John was right; time did pass differently when you were dead. He looked towards the kitchen, but for the first time since he'd been staying with John, the coffee wasn't already made. John always had the coffee going by seven.
He frowned and wandered into John's bedroom, but the bed was empty. The blankets were crumbled slightly and Thales was still buried into the pillow, but it was how Rodney had left it. John hadn't been home all night.
He exited the apartment and headed for O'Malley's. He was suddenly feeling a little sick with worry, but John, he reminded himself, was undead. The worst had pretty much already happened, so there was nothing to worry about.
He still walked a little faster than usual.
Daniel, Jack and Ronon were all there in their usual booth, but John was still among the missing. "Where's John?" Rodney asked quickly.
Jack nodded towards the door. "Just got in. Why? Aren't you two roomies?"
Jack was smirking, but Rodney wasn't paying attention to him any longer. John was walking in, wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing yesterday, and he had weird dark circles beneath his eyes. It seemed unfair that even dead they had to worry about things like beauty sleep.
Not that John didn't still look gorgeous.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Rodney demanded.
John shot him a wide smile and slid into the booth. "Didn't know I had a curfew," he said.
Rodney glared at him and sat down next to Daniel. "A phone call would have been nice."
"I wouldn’t waste time worrying about him, newbie," Jack said. "Shep can take care of himself."
"Shep?" Rodney asked.
"Ignore him, Rodney," John said quietly. "Jack just likes to hear himself talk."
Jack snorted, and passed out the assignments. "Daniel's the one that likes to hear himself talk."
Daniel glared at Jack, and snatched his post-it out of his hand.
Rodney kicked John under the table. "Seriously, where have you been?"
"Don't worry about it," John said.
"He goes off sometimes," Daniel confided. "John's the mysterious one. I've never been able to get a straight answer out of him."
"Just because I'm not the open book you are doesn't mean I'm mysterious," John said wryly.
"I'm going to have to agree and go with mysterious," Rodney said petulantly.
John looked away from him and Jack gave a large sigh. "I'm guessing you're wanting to be alone today?" he asked John. John didn't respond. "That's a yes then," Jack said, looking over at Daniel and Rodney. "That means you two get to spend the day together again."
"I don't need a baby-sitter anymore," Rodney said irritably.
"Well, if you don't, Daniel does. It's kind of the blind leading the blind, but since I doubt I'll get Ronon to play nice..." Jack looked over at Ronon.
Ronon grabbed his post-it and snorted. "I work alone," he said, before jumping over the back of the booth and heading towards the door.
"You guys are the light of my life, seriously, have I ever told you that?" Jack called out loudly. Ronon flipped him off and then the bells over the door were ringing, and the door was slamming shut.
Daniel smiled at him. "We are your life."
"Danny-boy," Jack said, grinning, "you do realize that you have no life whatsoever, right? You spend your nights watching hockey with me, which you hate, so don't pretend you do."
"At least I have a job that I love," Daniel protested. "Your job consists of writing names on post-its."
"Your job is morbid," Jack said.
"How is it morbid?" Rodney asked curiously. "Correction: how is it more morbid than what we all do?"
"Jack thinks it's morbid because it's where I died," Daniel said.
"How did you die?" Rodney asked, glancing at John from the corner of his eye. John looked away, and Rodney crossed his arms. It didn't seem fair that they all knew exactly how he had died, and he didn't know anything about them.
"Curiosity killed Daniel," Jack said dryly.
"It was a museum accident," Daniel told him, throwing a glare in Jack's direction.
"What?" Rodney snapped. "You mean you got your old job back? I thought we weren't allowed to do that?"
"Oh, I didn't work there before," Daniel told him. "I worked mostly out of the country, I was an archeologist, you know. I was only visiting here for a weekend, and this was decades ago anyway. I was there setting up an exhibit, and a stone slab fell on me. It was all pretty gory, actually, when they lifted it back up I was--"
Jack slammed his hand over Daniel's mouth. "I'm trying to eat here. I know you found it fascinating, but let's try not to scare the newbie."
Daniel pushed Jack's hand away. "Anyway," Daniel continued unfazed, "long story short, I'm the curator at the museum now. They have a nice plaque up in memoriam for me. It's very tasteful."
"Jack's right," Rodney said, "that is morbid." He looked back to get agreement from John, but John was no longer there. Rodney frowned. "Where did--?"
"Oh, he does that too," Daniel said. "I told you he was the mysterious one, but Jack vetoed me when I suggested we make him wear a bell."
Jack ruffled Daniel's hair. "Actually I said I'd suggest he wear one if you let me get you a leash."
"Whatever, Jack," Daniel said, rolling his eyes. He pushed Rodney out of the booth. "Let's get out of here."
"I haven't eaten," Rodney protested.
"You can pick something up later," Daniel said. "My reap is in twenty minutes and across town."
"You kids have fun now," Jack called after them.
Rodney and Daniel both glared at him, but it did nothing to dim Jack's bright grin.
-----
Rodney watched as Daniel's reap disappeared into a giant glowing blue birthday cake. "I could go for some cake," he said. Any food would be nice, really. He hadn't eaten dinner the night before and Daniel had dragged him away from his breakfast.
Daniel, however, Rodney was learning, didn't like wasting time with things like food. Daniel was almost comically easily distracted. At the moment, he was squinting at the disappearing lights like the fate of the universe was in his hands. "What do you think yours would be?" Daniel asked, glancing at him. "You know, your lights?"
Rodney sighed, giving up on food for now. "I think it would be my lab," Rodney said. "Or maybe a giant cat."
Daniel nodded thoughtfully. "I think mine would be an obelisk, or some kind of cartouche. Maybe a Sphinx," he said, before getting distracted again and wandering off down the street. "What's your reap's ETD?"
Rodney followed him, glancing down at his own post-it. D. Everett. Ellis Court. ETD: 10:30 a.m.. "10:30," he said. "Don't you have to be at work?"
"Not today," Daniel said. "How goes your own job hunt?"
"Non-existent," Rodney said irritably. "Atlantis Labs is the best in the area, and the best deserves the best."
"Then why don't you work there?" Daniel asked.
"Because I know the people," Rodney said. "Isn't that breaking some of the rules?"
Daniel grinned wryly. "Yeah, probably. I don't have a problem with that. Do you?"
Rodney's eyes narrowed. "John tells me you're a trouble-maker," he said.
Daniel shrugged. "He's probably right about that, but then, John's broken a few rules himself."
Rodney caught pace beside him. "How long have you known John?"
"Since I died," Daniel said. "He and Jack were both there. It was the last reap of a friend of theirs."
"Really?"
Daniel nodded. "Yeah, Aiden Ford, I think his name was."
"When did you die?" Rodney asked. Daniel seemed to be the only one that didn't mind talking about it. Rodney wondered if there was a subject Daniel would mind talking about.
"1973," Daniel told him. "I'm almost sixty-five years old now."
"You look good for your age," Rodney said.
Daniel grinned over at him. "I guess. It might have been fun to grow old, though."
"How old is John, do you think?" Rodney asked, trying to sound casual.
Daniel threw him a sideways glance. "You seem pretty interested in John."
"I'm living with him," Rodney said. "I just get curious. Wouldn't you be curious?"
Daniel's eyes narrowed like he knew there was more to it than that, but after a moment he just shrugged. "I think he died in the sixties," Daniel told him. "I don't know anymore than that. John doesn't...talk about things."
Rodney glared at him. "I thought you were the one with the answers," he said petulantly.
"No," Daniel said ruefully. "I'm just the one with questions."
-----
After his reap, Rodney went home and raided the kitchen, partly because he was feeling a little light-headed, and partly to get his mind off the latest death. It hadn't been pretty. Electrocution, Rodney decided, was not a good way to die. The man had looked twice as old by the time the current had stopped running through him.
Still, he had to wonder at how calmly everyone but him seemed to accept their death. Maybe it was because they knew instinctively somehow that it was almost over, that they got their lights and got to cross over. Rodney hadn't had that feeling, because he'd been chosen to be a grim reaper instead.
"This sucks," he told Thales.
Thales just curled up next to him and started purring. Things were a lot simpler in Thales' world, and while Rodney liked to think Thales remembered him, the cat probably just liked him because he gave him food.
John came back early this time, and Rodney watched him as he went straight to the kitchen, hopped up on the counter and pulled down a box of Captain Crunch.
"So what's up with you?" Rodney asked. "Are you bored with me or something?"
John spun over the top of the counter so he was sitting facing him. He grinned. "No, I just had some things to do."
"What kind of things?" Rodney asked.
"The personal kind," John told him.
"We're undead. I thought we weren't allowed personal things," Rodney said.
"Wow. You're in a good mood today," John said wryly.
"Daniel told me that I should get my old job back," Rodney said. "It's extremely high paying, so I figure--"
"Whoa, hold it," John interrupted. "Don't let Daniel give you any ideas. Jack will let Daniel get away with murder, but that's Daniel."
"What does that mean?" Rodney snapped.
"It means he doesn't let the rest of us get away with anything, and I've told you before, you don't want to piss Jack off."
"Have you pissed him off?" Rodney asked. "Have you ever done something he didn't like?"
"I piss him off all the time," John said. "One time I called him away from an episode of The Simpsons, and take it from me, it was bad; man, was he furious."
"I'm serious here," Rodney said. "You've been at this a lot longer than me, you said, so shouldn't you be helping me out instead of spouting a bunch of greeting card dribble? Move on, leave your burdens behind, etc upon mind-numbing etc?"
"Well what do you want me to say?" John asked, setting the cereal box aside. "Be miserable? Go back to your life and let it destroy you? Does that help?"
"Some sharing would be nice," Rodney said, crossing his arms. "We've known each other almost a month and you probably know everything there is to know about me. I don't know anything about you."
"There's nothing to know," John said. "I lived, and then I died. No one cared, no one cried, and I didn't give a fuck one way or another."
"I don't believe that," Rodney said. "You couldn't just die and not care..."
"You say that because things are different for you now," John said. "You can't see your friends. You can't do your job. Nothing much changed for me, so I've got nothing to mourn."
"John..."
"You can use my bed tonight, if you want," John told him, as he hopped off the counter.
"John..." Rodney started again.
"I'm flying a little further than usual, so I'll probably stay the night in a motel. If I'm late, you can tell Jack where I am."
"John," Rodney didn't know why he was bothering. He might as well be silent for as much attention as John would pay him.
John went out the door without looking back, and didn't even have the decency to slam it shut. John couldn't even be bothered to pretend his conversation with Rodney had affected him in any way, because that damn cool he'd admired at first didn't seem to break.
Rodney picked Thales up and wandered back into the bedroom. He collapsed down on the bed, and that was when he saw what had been in front of him all along.
The photo wasn't shiny or glossy like all the rest, it wasn't cut from some magazine; it wasn't even framed. It was old, tinged a little brown with age and frayed around the edges. John was in the center, looking exactly as he still looked, standing smartly in a flight suit in front of a helicopter. Two other men were with him, their arms all around each other, smiling like they were vacationing somewhere and not stationed in a jungle.
There were three sets of dog tags just beside it. One pair belonged to a John Sheppard. Rodney held the dog tags in his hand, and it was suddenly a little hard to breathe, because he'd somehow thought it would bring them closer if he only knew. Now he had a good guess how John had died, and he'd never seemed more untouchable.
It was hard to reconcile the smiling man in that photo with the John he knew; the smile was the same one he'd seen a hundred times already, but in that photo, it didn't look forced or practiced, it looked genuine.
Rodney wondered how long John had between that picture and his death.
-----
Rodney woke up, curled around John's pillow, Thales stretched at the foot of the bed and the sound of running water in the kitchen. He stumbled, bleary eyed towards the noise, squinting in the bright light at John's back. "You're back."
John turned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
Rodney waved a dismissive hand, flopping into a chair at the kitchen table. "What time is it?"
"Close to three," John answered. "Coffee?"
Rodney was tempted, but knew if he accepted that would be it for sleep, he'd be awake the rest of the night. "No, thanks." John nodded, flicking off the coffee maker. "Aren't you going to have any?"
"I just finished," John smiled. "I got back around one thirty; you were dead to the world...no pun intended." He winked, slouching against the counter.
Rodney rolled his eyes, but there was a smirk tugging at his lips. He stifled a yawn, watching John through blurry eyes. "You should get some sleep."
John shrugged. "I'm good, but you should go back to bed." He grinned. "I don't give up my bed often so you should definitely take advantage."
Rodney shoved away the inappropriate thoughts that statement produced and pushed away from the table. "Well, if you're going to make me go back to sleeping on the couch tomorrow then I am definitely taking advantage tonight." He quirked a shy grin at John and said goodnight before shuffling back towards John's bed--Thales in the same position he was in when Rodney had gotten up.
Climbing back under the blankets Rodney shifted until he was comfortable, arm automatically curling around John's pillow again. With a contented sigh he was asleep in minutes.
John stood at the doorway to his room, watching Rodney snore quietly, a smile playing across his mouth before he disappeared back into the living room to wait the coming morning.
____
Rodney dove into his breakfast, not wanting another day to start with him being dragged away because his 'baby-sitter' couldn't wait five minutes. He hoped that Jack paired him with John today--not that Daniel wasn't nice and all but Rodney was really hoping to have the chance to grill John about where he was and what was going on.
As things rarely went Rodney's way, Jack paired him with Ronon. His eyes widened when Ronon bared his teeth, his long dreads swinging to and fro as he stood, swishing his trench coat behind him. Swallowing Rodney threw a glare at Jack and a 'help-me' look towards John. He wasn't surprised when neither worked. Following Ronon from O'Malley's he tilted his head. "So--"
Not surprisingly things went downhill from there. It turned out that Ronon was not a chatty person, he liked knives--lots and lots of knives, and he took a disturbing pleasure in reaping. Whereas he'd now been witness to both John and Daniel reaping on numerous occasions, not to mention his own reaps, this was the first time he'd seen Ronon in action. And Ronon enjoyed it. John and Daniel and even he himself were somewhat somber when it came to reaping--Ronon looked like he was about to get laid. That in and of itself disturbed Rodney to no end.
Although he had to admit he got a perverse amount of amusement over the reactions Ronon got from passersby. He may not look the same to them as he did to Rodney and the others, but he was still very large and very intimidating and everyone gave him plenty of space.
Today's reap was some stoner skateboarder who, when he popped up beside them, tilted his head back (way back) to see Ronon as he muttered, "Duuuude." Rodney rolled his eyes when Ronon engaged the stoner in some complicated handshake before mumbling something Rodney couldn't quite catch. Then came the shimmering lights and the largest skatepark Rodney had every seen and the stoner yelled 'Sweet!' and took off running, disappearing with the light.
The one good thing about Ronon though, was that he loved to eat even more than Rodney and after they'd done Ronon's reap they killed time waiting for Rodney's in some biker bar Ronon fit perfectly into and Rodney stood out of like a sore thumb. They ate onion rings and fries, had a couple beers and watched the TV above the bar playing the strong man competitions. Rodney didn't really feel inclined to try and make conversation with Ronon, but thought with a mental sigh that if Jack was going to start forcing him to go out on reaps with Ronon he should probably at least pretend to be interested in the man's life-or death...whatever.
Clearing his throat, Rodney rolled his bottle of beer between his hands. "So, how did you end up here?"
Ronon shrugged, tossing a peanut into his mouth. "Found it one day after a reap."
Rodney frowned. "I'm not talking about the bar--how did you become a reaper?"
He turned and looked Rodney in the eye. "I died."
Rolling his eyes in exasperation Rodney snapped, "I never would have guessed, thank you so much for solving the answer to that question! I'm asking how you died, Ronon."
Ronon's eyes narrowed as he growled. "That's none of your business, McKay."
Gulping a little at the look in Ronon's eyes Rodney nodded. "Right--none of my business." When Ronon turned back towards the TV, Rodney fiddled with the label on the bottle. "It's just that--well I mean Daniel got squashed, John I think died in the war, I have no idea how Jack died but I get the feeling no one is really sure and I figured you all know how I died--"
His head snapped up when Ronon's bottled rattled the table as he slammed it down. "You talk a lot."
"Yes, well--I tend to do that when I'm nervous and when the person I'm with refuses to engage in any type of conversation," Rodney said defensively.
A smirk tugged at Ronon's mouth and he regarded Rodney for a moment before leaning back in his chair. "I was shot."
"Shot?" Rodney's eyes widened. "Like--mugged and shot or in a war and shot..."
"As in killed in a shoot out at the bank I was robbing."
"You were a bank robber?" Rodney squeaked, eyes wide in shock.
Another shrug and Ronon reached for his beer. "Needed the money."
"Oh my God," Rodney said, horrified. "And you couldn’t just-oh I don’t know, get a job?"
Snorting, Ronon took a swig from his beer, “Not many people want to hire a convict.”
Rodney rubbed his temples, willing away the oncoming headache. “What were you convicted of?”
“Kidnapping,” he rumbled.
Rodney’s mouth dropped-God, he was sitting with a kidnapper and bank robber...this was the type of people the almighty chose to make reapers? “Who did you kidnap?” Rodney asked warily.
Ronon’s eyes slid up to look at him before turning back to the plate of fries in front of him. “My fiancée.”
He wasn’t sure what surprised him more-that Ronon was actually answering his questions, or that Ronon had been engaged.
“You were engaged?”
“Her father didn’t approve,” he shrugged. “We ran away together--he found us.”
“What happened?”
“He told the authorities that I had kidnapped his daughter--he was well respected in the town and no one was going to take my word for it over his. They arrested me and I spent the next four years of my life in jail-then I escaped.”
“You escaped?”
“I would have been left to die in that prison if I hadn’t-escaping seemed like the thing to do.”
Rodney nodded. “Why didn’t your fiancée tell the authorities you didn’t kidnap her?”
Finishing off his beer, Ronon looked Rodney in the eye and said, “She never got the chance.”
Rodney frowned, “What do you mean? What happened to her?”
Shifting in his seat, Ronon turned back to the TV without a word. Rodney didn't ask him anything else.
_____
"So," Rodney said when he got home that evening after his reap, "I need a job."
John looked up from where he was lounged on the couch doing a crossword puzzle. "Okay," he agreed.
Rodney lifted John's feet, flopping onto the couch beside him and letting John's feet rest on his lap. He laid his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "I have three doctorates, degrees and brains coming out my ears," Rodney said with a sigh.
John raised an eyebrow, lips twitching as Rodney tapped out some random tune on his ankles. "You're dead now, Rodney--as I keep reminding you," John said with a smile. "In this life...you don't have any of those fancy degrees or PhDs. But with brains coming out your ears you shouldn't have any trouble finding a job." He laughed at the glare Rodney shot him.
"The problem is," Rodney continued as if John hadn't spoken, "is that I'm over qualified for pretty much every job out there and besides--I'm too brilliant to waste on some mediocre job. I can still make a difference..."
"Rodney," John warned. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like where this was going.
"I could fake the credentials proving I have my doctorates--no one would look too closely because my brilliance would be enough to prove I've got brains--"
"Coming out your ears," John nodded, pulling his feet from Rodney's lap and twisting so he was sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
"Exactly," Rodney beamed.
John placed a hand on Rodney's knee, shaking his head. "You can't go back."
"But--"
"No, Rodney--you can't." John turned to stare at Rodney's profile. "Jack wouldn't let you, you know that."
Closing his eyes, Rodney swallowed thickly. "This sucks," he whispered hoarsely.
John squeezed Rodney's leg, patting it gently and saying in an overly cheerful tone, "How bout I help you find a job?"
Rodney smiled, not opening his eyes. "Thanks."
"No problem," John grinned, pushing up off the couch. "You hungry?"
"Do you need to ask?" Rodney smiled crookedly, holding out a hand and letting John pull him up off the couch. As Rodney followed John into the kitchen to find something for supper he asked with wide eyes, "Hey, did you know Ronon hides knives in his hair?"
John burst out laughing, throwing an arm around Rodney's shoulder. "You don't want to know where else he hides them."
Rodney snickered as John pulled away, opening the fridge. Leaning his hip against the counter Rodney asked, "So, do you have any plans for tomorrow?"
John nodded. "Tomorrow--I'm finding you a job."
-----
"This is ridiculous," Rodney snapped. "I'm not going into a place called 'Happy Time'."
"Shut up and smile," John told him sweetly, before pushing him inside and directly into one of the stiff black chairs in the waiting area. "Dolores doesn't help people she doesn't like." John pulled out a portfolio, and held it out to him. "Now, here's your fake diplomas, your new driver's license, your birth certificate, just in case..."
"Hold it," Rodney snapped. "Emmett Brown? Are you kidding? You named me Emmett Brown?"
John flashed him a wide grin. "I love that movie. It was the first name to enter my mind--besides, I think you could totally pull 'mad scientist' off."
"You fucking bastard!" Rodney hissed.
"My, such language!"
Rodney glanced up at the startled exclamation. A woman smiled down at him falsely, taking him in with wide eyes. "I'm Dolores. Dolores Herbig. As in her big brown eyes." Dolores pointed to her eyes for further illustration.
Rodney despised her instantly, but John nudged him and hissed, "smile" so he forced his lips to tilt up.
Dolores held out her hand, and caught his. She shook it quickly before letting go and turning on her heel. "Now, let's see if we can't get you situated, Dr. Brown."
Dolores led him to a small cubicle at the far side of the room, and Rodney carefully sat down across from her. "Emmett Brown," she murmured. "Emmett Brown. Dr. Brown. That is so familiar. Have we met before?"
"No," Rodney said, smiling again, wide and false and until his lips hurt. John was lucky Rodney liked him so much, or he might have had to exact vicious revenge for naming him after someone from the absolutely ludicrous Back to the Future trilogy.
Dolores smiled back. "Oh well, no matter." She took his portfolio and began to sort through it. "My, you are qualified, aren't you? I think you're the most qualified I've ever had! How did you find your way to Happy Time, Dr. Brown?"
Because he'd died and gone to hell. Rodney fought to keep the smile in place. "Someone close to me died and I had to take some time off."
"Oh," Dolores said, putting on an exaggerated pout. "How sad. Let's see..." Dolores turned to her computer and started typing. "Well, this looks promising," she said. "Someone just died over at Atlantis Labs, so there's an opening."
Rodney tried not to wince. "Dr. McKay, wasn't it?" he asked casually. "I've heard he was irreplaceable."
"Oh, dear, no one is irreplaceable," Dolores said. "It says right here, looking for Theoretical Astrophysicist, which you are, are you not?"
"Well, yes, but I can't work there," Rodney said. "I knew Dr. McKay. Wonderful man. I wouldn't feel right."
Dolores frowned. "Hmm, well, alright, let's see here..." She started typing again. "There's also an opening at DST Corporations. It's headed by a Dr. Lee. Do you know him?"
"Dr. Lee?" Rodney snapped. "They put him in charge? That incompetent--" Rodney stopped himself at Dolores’ startled look, and forced the smile back into place. "That sounds...great," he said haltingly.
Dolores smiled. "Well, wonderful. Just wonderful. I'm sure that Dr. Lee will be pleased."
John was waiting for him by the water cooler when he wandered back out. "How did it go?" he asked pleasantly.
Rodney glared at him. "I hate you," he said.
John grinned widely. "That well, huh?"
------
Rodney started work the next day. DST had been looking for a replacement for months with no luck, and they were desperate for the help. John sent him off to work with a smile and lunch money and Rodney pushed his post-it deep into his pocket. He'd have to ask for a cigarette break or something around four o'clock, so he could go take someone's soul.
Dr. Lee was as stupid as Rodney remembered him being, which was evidenced by the fact that he'd hired Dr. Felger on as his next in charge.
Rodney decided that if he were still alive, he'd probably have to kill himself.
"We're called DST on account of us doing Deep Space Telemetry," Felger told him. "It's like an Acronym."
"It is an Acronym, you fucking moron!" Rodney didn't actually say this, of course, but he thought it really, really loudly as he stood there smiling and nodding like John had told him to.
"Your office is just over here, Dr. Brown," Felger said, leading him into a small six by six foot room with a computer desk and a chair, and fluorescent lighting. "We have an instant message network set up so that we don't have to waste time running around the office to ask questions. With your qualifications, I'm sure you'll figure everything out."
There was a huge stack of paper sitting in his inbox. Data backlogs and data entry. Hell was starting to look promising, if it got him away from here.
"Chloe, my assistant," Felger continued, "was transferred over to Atlantis Labs recently, so you'll probably have to do some data entry before you can get to the fun stuff. Call if you need anything!"
"Hey, wait!" Rodney snapped, but Felger was gone. Felger was maybe not as stupid as Rodney had thought, because he'd just effortlessly dumped all of the grunt work into someone else's lap. Rodney reluctantly stepped into the small office and sat in front of the computer.
He looked over the reports in his inbox. It had all been transferred in from Atlantis Labs. He remembered back in the good old days, when Radek would ask him what he wanted to do with all this fucking useless information (only Radek had never said fucking, that was paraphrasing) and Rodney would tell him, send it to those poor saps over at DST.
He slammed his head onto his desk and wished he could go back to being John's kept man.
Rodney moaned. Thinking of John didn't help his mood at all. John was taking mysterious to extremes, and the more he did glean about his former life, the less he felt he actually knew. Rodney bit his lip, getting an idea.
He pushed his inbox to the edge of the desk and out of the way, and then brought up Google on his computer. He ran a search for the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial Wall and easily found a site dedicated to it, thewall-usa.com. There was a search page to look for the dead.
He typed John's name, and wasn't surprised to find him.
He had been a Major in the Air Force, killed on November 7th, 1966, when his helicopter was shot down over Quang Nam, South Vietnam. The body was never recovered.
-----
Rodney was exhausted by the time he dragged himself back into John's apartment. In some ways it had been nice to have any kind of connection to his old life, and even Dr. Lee and Dr. Felger were vaguely familiar and almost comforting, despite that he knew them mostly by reputation, and had only seen them in person a couple of times.
But mostly it was just degrading, letting his brilliant mind go to waste like this.
Spending his one half-hour break watching someone fall to their death from a fifth story balcony hadn't exactly cheered him up any, either.
He'd been planning to sit in front of the TV, and probably fall asleep the moment he made it home. He seemed to be sleeping a lot lately, but dying took a lot out of you.
He hadn't expected John to be at the door to greet him, smiling like he hadn't for awhile, and actually looking happy to see him. "How was work?" he asked.
Rodney blinked at him, and then moved inside. "Hell on Earth," he said. "Forget fire and brimstone. Hell is florescent lighting and knockoff desk chairs."
"I'm glad you had fun," John said brightly, seemingly impervious to Rodney's bad mood. He rocked back on his heels, looking strangely pleased with himself. "I made you dinner."
Rodney continued watching him, not quite making sense of the words. "You what?"
"I made you dinner," John repeated, speaking slower, and with an amused drawl. "As a kind of congratulations for your new suck-ass job."
Rodney looked past John and saw that the table had indeed been set. Candles had been set around a large bowl of pasta, beside a cutting board with a fresh loaf of bread and grated Parmesan. Like the rest of John's apartment, it looked like it had come straight out of a magazine. "Do you like watch a lot of Martha Stewart or something?" Rodney asked.
Thales was asleep under the table, in a satisfied sleep, with some tomato sauce smeered on his ear. Rodney was glad that at least Thales had caught a break when he died--Thales had never been happier.
John rolled his eyes at him. "You're just supposed to say, 'thank you, John'."
"Thank you, John," Rodney said, and John ushered him into a chair and sat him down, before falling into the chair across from him. Rodney couldn't really stop staring at John. The most unbelievable thing about this last month probably should have been the fact that he was dead and still going strong, but it wasn't, it was John.
John seemed too good to be true, a little like he'd walked out of a magazine himself, and Rodney kept trying to figure out how he'd gone from the soldier in that picture to this. He wanted to ask him how it had happened, how he had died, how he had moved on. If he had really moved on at all.
Except John didn't want him to know. John would let him live here, would make him dinners, make him coffee, but he wouldn't tell him one damn thing that meant something. He wouldn't reveal anything that might give himself away.
John reached across the table and poured some wine into the glass beside his plate, before sitting back down and filling his own. "You can still be happy, you know," John told him. "Your life is over, but something new is starting."
Rodney nodded, wondering if John had ever taken his own advice. "Yeah, I guess. My new life of data entry and soul-nabbing."
"Yeah, well," John said. "There's other stuff too."
Before Rodney could ask what he'd meant by that, John was already moving on. "So here's to being dead like us," he said, and lifted his glass with a bright smile. Rodney lifted his own glass and echoed the toast, deciding as he did that John never looked sadder than when he was smiling.
John/Rodney Pre-Slash
SG1/Atlantis/Dead Like Me crossover AU
"I'm never going to be like you, or like John," Rodney said desperately. "You'd be better off getting someone else to do this."
Dead Like Them: Dead Man Walking
Art by laytoncolt
Part One
_______
Rodney should probably have been a little disconcerted that his afterlife, as it was, had not a few benefits more than he'd ever managed during his life. When he'd been alive, guys like John wouldn't have given him the time of day, guys like John were naturally cool, and Rodney, while he had the most brilliant mind to ever walk the Earth, tended to get tongue tied in social situations. Guys like John, when he'd been alive, certainly wouldn't let him move in and bring him coffee in the mornings, or make him breakfast without being asked.
John even rented The Sixth Sense for him after Rodney had mentioned never getting to see the end. They watched the whole thing together, and considering his situation, Rodney found the ending eerily appropriate.
That wasn't to say he was having the time of his life, or unlife, or whatever. He missed his lab, his work, even Radek, but most of all, he missed his cat.
It still felt a little odd, sneaking in through Elizabeth Weir's window and creeping across her living room, though, and he gave himself a moment to have second thoughts before pressing on. He felt like some kind of pervert or peeping Tom, but he reminded himself that he wasn't here to spy on Elizabeth.
He was here for his cat. Elizabeth had always been after his cat, always coming over with excuses just to try and draw Thales away, and so tracking Thales down had been pathetically easy. He spotted him curled up on the sofa, the small cat bed Elizabeth had placed out for him had been scratched almost to pieces and flipped over in distain. He obviously wasn't happy about not having a real bed. Living with Rodney, he usually got it all to himself, because Rodney had a habit of falling asleep in the lab.
"Thales," he whispered.
Thales opened one eye and glanced at him in disgust before going back to sleep.
"It's me, you stupid cat," Rodney hissed.
Thales didn't move, but Rodney heard someone walking around in the bedroom, and a moment later he heard Elizabeth call out, "Is someone there?"
Rodney's eyes went wide. "Fuck," he whispered, before grabbing Thales up. The cat screeched in protest, but Rodney didn't pause; he just jumped out the window and started running.
Elizabeth could get her own damn cat; this one was his.
-----
The first thing John said was, "Please tell me you didn't."
Rodney was covered in mud up to his knees from where he'd tripped in Elizabeth's garden, and Thales was mud splattered and trying to twist out of his grip, so Rodney decided John must be really optimistic thinking there was a chance he hadn't. "I didn't," he said anyway, obediently.
John collapsed onto his couch and placed his head in his hands. "Rodney," he said, sounding a little pained.
"Is this about the mud?" Rodney asked, looking at the trail of muddy footprints he'd left. "I know you're anal about cleanliness. I'll clean it, okay? You'll never know the difference."
"You stole that cat," John said, glancing up at him. "I can't believe you."
"It's my cat," Rodney said, just as Thales jumped out of his arms and went to hide under the coffee table.
"You're dead," John told him.
"I'm undead," Rodney corrected primly, because John had done it to him often enough. "And I missed my cat. You can't tell me that the cat runs a risk of spreading the news I'm undead. The cat is not a security risk."
"That's not the point," John said. "You can't...you have to let go."
"It's not like I kidnapped Radek," Rodney said. "Elizabeth doesn't know what to do with Thales. She was treating him like just any cat, but he's very smart. He has special needs."
"Rodney," John said again.
Rodney took a deep breath. "Look, do you want me to leave? Is that what this is about? Because I know I was only supposed to crash here for a few days, but as soon as I can get a job--"
"It's not that," John said with a sigh. "Although you will be cleaning up that mud." John ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just worried about you, okay?"
"Didn't you ever try," Rodney started haltingly. "I mean, didn't you ever want something? Something to connect you with what you had?"
John wouldn't look at him. "No," he said. "There was nothing I wanted to remember."
"I guess you were lucky then," Rodney said.
"That's one way to look at it," John said. "Just...keep the cat out of sight, okay? Animals aren't allowed in this building."
Rodney let out a relieved breath, and gave a small smile. "No one will be the wiser, I promise."
-----
Rodney was getting into a routine. It was a fucked up routine, but a routine nonetheless. He'd wake up face down on the couch and pass a wet John on his way to the shower, and if the cosmos really wanted to torture him, then John would only be wearing a towel and looking like he'd walked out of an ad for Lever 2000.
By the time he took his own shower, John would have the coffee made, and then they'd head off to O'Malley's to receive a post-it with the name of whoever's soul they were supposed to take that day.
So when the door buzzed at seven in the morning, it threw him off. John didn't seem surprised, and just glanced at him briefly before asking him levelly, "Can you get that?"
It was Jack. He was leaning against the doorjamb, smiling falsely, when he pulled the door open, and Rodney cursed. He turned to glare at John. "You told on me?" he snapped.
John gave him a tight smile and then looked back at his coffee, which was answer enough.
"Let's go for a walk, shall we?" Jack asked.
Rodney winced, but allowed himself to be pulled out the door. "I just wanted my cat," Rodney snapped. "What's so wrong with that?"
"It wasn't your cat anymore," Jack said. "John convinced me to let you get away with it this once, but it has to end here, understand?"
Rodney glared at him. "I don't get how you can all be so unattached. I just died I'm allowed to...you know, freak out a little."
"Freak out all you like," Jack told him amiably. "Just do it without dragging anyone living into it, okay?"
"I'm never going to be like you, or like John," Rodney said desperately. "You'd be better off getting someone else to do this."
Jack grinned brightly. "Oh, if only I could," he said. "Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. We're stuck with each other. You should just be grateful that for whatever inexplicable reason, John seems to like you. He's never let anyone stay in that apartment more than fifteen minutes as long as I've known him."
Rodney's eyes widened. "Really?"
Jack shrugged. "I've always known John was a strange one. He likes the craziest things."
Rodney frowned, and glanced back at the closed door for a moment. "Do you know how he--I mean, were you there when...?"
"Was I there when he died?" Jack asked. He slipped his hands into his pockets and rolled back on his heels. "Yeah, I was."
"How did he die?" Rodney asked. Rodney figured that in a world of the undead, death was a fairly defining moment, but he couldn't get John to reveal anything.
Jack gave a slight smile. "That's something you're going to have to ask him," he said, before effortlessly spinning on his heel and leaving Rodney in the hallway. "Don't be late."
-----
Rodney traipsed back into the apartment; slightly chastised, but if he was being honest with himself not enough for him to regret retrieving Thales--and not enough for him to be okay with just forgetting his life. The others might be fine with cutting themselves off--maybe the rest of them were like John and didn't have anything that they wanted to hang on to but Rodney wasn't like them. He had his work, and Thales, and his overwhelming genius and even though it still sometimes surprised him (because Rodney wasn't a genius in name only and knew that he could sometimes be--difficult to be around) he had friends--and he missed his life.
John was rinsing out his coffee mug at the sink when Rodney walked back into the apartment, and even though Rodney wanted to be mad at him for tattling on him to Jack, he really couldn't--not when John was being so nice to him, not when he could see that John was just worried.
Thales was rubbing up against John's leg, probably hoping to entice some food out of him and Rodney smiled when John nudged the cat over onto his side, rubbing Thales' belly with his foot as he quickly dried his newly washed mug. "He likes you."
John turned with a smirk. "I think he's just trying to suck up so I'll give him something to eat."
Rodney bent down and picked Thales up, cradling him in his arms. "Probably."
John snorted.
"So listen--" Rodney cleared his throat. "I appreciate that you only told Jack because you're worried..."
"I told Jack," John interrupted with a shake of his head, "because you didn't listen to me, Rodney. Yes, I'm worried--but you have to understand the rules." John folded his arms. "You can't go back. You can't capture some part of your life that you think you lost unfairly. You're not the same person anymore, Rodney, and you have to move on."
"It's not that simple," Rodney snapped in frustration, letting Thales jump from his arms. "I can't just be blasé about this whole thing. I fucking died, John. There was still so much I had planned for my life. There's so god damned much that I will never be able to do and it's not fucking FAIR!"
Rodney took a deep breath and John stared at him intently, not saying anything before giving a slight nod and pushing away from the counter. "We're going to be late."
"That's it?" Rodney asked.
"I don't know what you expect from me, Rodney." John sighed. "I can't tell you that it's fair, and telling you that it was just your time isn't going to help you either. All I know is that hanging on--trying to live your afterlife in the shadow of your former life is going to bring you nothing but pain. It's not easy to let go--no one ever said it was going to be--but it's so much harder hanging on." John looked at Rodney, sadness in his eyes. "We've all been dead a long time, Rodney--you just have to trust us on this one."
"I can't promise you anything," Rodney said quietly.
"You have to try," John answered, squeezing Rodney's shoulder and heading out of the kitchen. "We have to go--"
Rodney swallowed thickly before asking quickly, "How did you die?"
John paused at the entryway to the kitchen, his back still to Rodney. "Doing what I thought was right."
He doesn't say anything else and Rodney follows him when he leaves for O'Malley's.
___
Daniel was on babysitting detail that morning. Rodney huffed with annoyance when the man sneezed again. "I'm allergic to cats," Daniel explained and Rodney rolled his eyes.
His post-it took him to a car dealership on South St. and Sixth and he saw a fat, balding man in a blindingly bright sports jacket that looked like he bought it from a carpet salesman, step out of the dealership. What little hair he had was slicked back, greasy just like his smile and he stuck out his hand a good twenty feet before he reached them, walking towards them with it outstretched and making himself look like a reject from some cheesy zombie movie.
After Rodney and Daniel explained they were just looking, and after Rodney sputtered out a denial when the man assumed he and Daniel were 'partners', Rodney wandered the lot looking for S. Martinez--not that he at all knew where to find his...reap, while Daniel just wandered. Rodney was actually grateful for the space Daniel was giving him. John had given him a lot to think about this morning, and though he honestly wasn't ready to just give up everything from his former life, he was willing to at least think about what John told him.
At 10:46 a.m. Rodney saw a man strolling towards him, a wide smile, and a swing in his step. He wasn't sure yet how the whole reaping thing worked but when he saw the man something whispered in the back of his mind that this was the person he'd been waiting for.
"Mr. Martinez?" Rodney called and the man stopped, turning an inquisitive look in Rodney's direction.
"Do I know you?"
"Are you George Martinez?" Rodney asked, knowing full well the man’s name wasn’t George, taking a step closer and the man shook his head.
"No, sorry--my name is Sam Martinez."
Rodney apologized, reaching out and touching Martinez's arm before watching him walk away. Daniel came up beside Rodney, hands in his pockets. "You're getting the hang of this."
Rodney snorted, watching as a man pulled up to the front of the dealership, jumping out with the car still running-stupid, but then, Rodney had always believed the majority of people were brainless. Inside the car Rodney caught a glimpse of something. "What the--" He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out a clearer picture of what he was seeing.
"Gravelings," Daniel said quietly as they watched the creature pull the car out of park; watched as it rolled into the side of the dealership; watched as the sign hanging from the building wobbled to and fro and finally watched as Sam Martinez walked right under it just as the metal holding it to the building broke away.
Rodney remembered John mentioning them. "They make bad things happen," he said and Daniel nodded.
In the blink of an eye Martinez was standing beside Rodney and Daniel, looking confused and shaken. "What happened?" He saw his body, partially covered by the sign, and swore quietly to himself before turning to Rodney and Daniel. "I won the lottery last week," he said, his voice filled with shock. "I was coming to buy my very first new car."
Rodney's mouth was turned down and he shook his head. "Hardly seems fair, does it?"
Behind them the shimmering light appeared again. This time Rodney saw a beautiful woman with long dark hair, soulful chocolate eyes, smiling and waving towards Sam. Sam whispered, “Maria?” before taking a step closer, his eyes wide. Rodney ignored the pang of jealousy as he watched Sam running towards her and disappearing into the light just like every other person he'd reaped since he died.
____
Now that Rodney had done his reap he told Daniel that he was going to head home, that he needed to check on Thales and since Daniel still had his own reap to do (not to mention his allergies to cats) he left Rodney on the corner of Tenth and Stewart with a wave and a smile.
He doesn't go back to John's apartment, instead wanders outside the lab, his throat tight and his stomach clenched. He should be in there, making discoveries, figuring out the answers to the universe, earning a Nobel Prize...he ducked behind a tree when he saw Elizabeth and Radek hurrying into the building. He can hear Radek's excited stream of Czech all the way from where he is and his heart begins to beat faster--the desire to run after them, to demand to know what is going on, to be involved, is so strong he can taste it.
Forcing himself away from the lab he eventually found himself back at John's apartment, slipping inside, locking the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes, wandering around the empty apartment for a few minutes before seeing Thales curled up on one of John's pillows. Rodney smiled because for one brief second he could pretend he wasn't dead, that he wasn't living some farce of a life, taking souls and easing their passage to the afterlife; instead pretending he was simply coming home after a long day at the lab to find Thales curled up on his bed.
John's reap wasn't until later that afternoon and it was now just after lunch. Crawling onto the bed, his head beside Thales' sleep warm body, Rodney closed his eyes.
____
Rodney woke up with the sun in his eyes and he winced. Thales was on his back, purring and stretched out on a pillow. Rodney sat up and looked around the room. "John?"
He got to his feet and checked around quickly, but John wasn't there. He sat down in front of the TV and watched the sci-fi channel for a few hours, all of which seemed a lot more plausible considering he felt like he was living something that had less scientific basis than Star Trek did.
He fell asleep in front of the TV and didn't wake up until morning. John was right; time did pass differently when you were dead. He looked towards the kitchen, but for the first time since he'd been staying with John, the coffee wasn't already made. John always had the coffee going by seven.
He frowned and wandered into John's bedroom, but the bed was empty. The blankets were crumbled slightly and Thales was still buried into the pillow, but it was how Rodney had left it. John hadn't been home all night.
He exited the apartment and headed for O'Malley's. He was suddenly feeling a little sick with worry, but John, he reminded himself, was undead. The worst had pretty much already happened, so there was nothing to worry about.
He still walked a little faster than usual.
Daniel, Jack and Ronon were all there in their usual booth, but John was still among the missing. "Where's John?" Rodney asked quickly.
Jack nodded towards the door. "Just got in. Why? Aren't you two roomies?"
Jack was smirking, but Rodney wasn't paying attention to him any longer. John was walking in, wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing yesterday, and he had weird dark circles beneath his eyes. It seemed unfair that even dead they had to worry about things like beauty sleep.
Not that John didn't still look gorgeous.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Rodney demanded.
John shot him a wide smile and slid into the booth. "Didn't know I had a curfew," he said.
Rodney glared at him and sat down next to Daniel. "A phone call would have been nice."
"I wouldn’t waste time worrying about him, newbie," Jack said. "Shep can take care of himself."
"Shep?" Rodney asked.
"Ignore him, Rodney," John said quietly. "Jack just likes to hear himself talk."
Jack snorted, and passed out the assignments. "Daniel's the one that likes to hear himself talk."
Daniel glared at Jack, and snatched his post-it out of his hand.
Rodney kicked John under the table. "Seriously, where have you been?"
"Don't worry about it," John said.
"He goes off sometimes," Daniel confided. "John's the mysterious one. I've never been able to get a straight answer out of him."
"Just because I'm not the open book you are doesn't mean I'm mysterious," John said wryly.
"I'm going to have to agree and go with mysterious," Rodney said petulantly.
John looked away from him and Jack gave a large sigh. "I'm guessing you're wanting to be alone today?" he asked John. John didn't respond. "That's a yes then," Jack said, looking over at Daniel and Rodney. "That means you two get to spend the day together again."
"I don't need a baby-sitter anymore," Rodney said irritably.
"Well, if you don't, Daniel does. It's kind of the blind leading the blind, but since I doubt I'll get Ronon to play nice..." Jack looked over at Ronon.
Ronon grabbed his post-it and snorted. "I work alone," he said, before jumping over the back of the booth and heading towards the door.
"You guys are the light of my life, seriously, have I ever told you that?" Jack called out loudly. Ronon flipped him off and then the bells over the door were ringing, and the door was slamming shut.
Daniel smiled at him. "We are your life."
"Danny-boy," Jack said, grinning, "you do realize that you have no life whatsoever, right? You spend your nights watching hockey with me, which you hate, so don't pretend you do."
"At least I have a job that I love," Daniel protested. "Your job consists of writing names on post-its."
"Your job is morbid," Jack said.
"How is it morbid?" Rodney asked curiously. "Correction: how is it more morbid than what we all do?"
"Jack thinks it's morbid because it's where I died," Daniel said.
"How did you die?" Rodney asked, glancing at John from the corner of his eye. John looked away, and Rodney crossed his arms. It didn't seem fair that they all knew exactly how he had died, and he didn't know anything about them.
"Curiosity killed Daniel," Jack said dryly.
"It was a museum accident," Daniel told him, throwing a glare in Jack's direction.
"What?" Rodney snapped. "You mean you got your old job back? I thought we weren't allowed to do that?"
"Oh, I didn't work there before," Daniel told him. "I worked mostly out of the country, I was an archeologist, you know. I was only visiting here for a weekend, and this was decades ago anyway. I was there setting up an exhibit, and a stone slab fell on me. It was all pretty gory, actually, when they lifted it back up I was--"
Jack slammed his hand over Daniel's mouth. "I'm trying to eat here. I know you found it fascinating, but let's try not to scare the newbie."
Daniel pushed Jack's hand away. "Anyway," Daniel continued unfazed, "long story short, I'm the curator at the museum now. They have a nice plaque up in memoriam for me. It's very tasteful."
"Jack's right," Rodney said, "that is morbid." He looked back to get agreement from John, but John was no longer there. Rodney frowned. "Where did--?"
"Oh, he does that too," Daniel said. "I told you he was the mysterious one, but Jack vetoed me when I suggested we make him wear a bell."
Jack ruffled Daniel's hair. "Actually I said I'd suggest he wear one if you let me get you a leash."
"Whatever, Jack," Daniel said, rolling his eyes. He pushed Rodney out of the booth. "Let's get out of here."
"I haven't eaten," Rodney protested.
"You can pick something up later," Daniel said. "My reap is in twenty minutes and across town."
"You kids have fun now," Jack called after them.
Rodney and Daniel both glared at him, but it did nothing to dim Jack's bright grin.
-----
Rodney watched as Daniel's reap disappeared into a giant glowing blue birthday cake. "I could go for some cake," he said. Any food would be nice, really. He hadn't eaten dinner the night before and Daniel had dragged him away from his breakfast.
Daniel, however, Rodney was learning, didn't like wasting time with things like food. Daniel was almost comically easily distracted. At the moment, he was squinting at the disappearing lights like the fate of the universe was in his hands. "What do you think yours would be?" Daniel asked, glancing at him. "You know, your lights?"
Rodney sighed, giving up on food for now. "I think it would be my lab," Rodney said. "Or maybe a giant cat."
Daniel nodded thoughtfully. "I think mine would be an obelisk, or some kind of cartouche. Maybe a Sphinx," he said, before getting distracted again and wandering off down the street. "What's your reap's ETD?"
Rodney followed him, glancing down at his own post-it. D. Everett. Ellis Court. ETD: 10:30 a.m.. "10:30," he said. "Don't you have to be at work?"
"Not today," Daniel said. "How goes your own job hunt?"
"Non-existent," Rodney said irritably. "Atlantis Labs is the best in the area, and the best deserves the best."
"Then why don't you work there?" Daniel asked.
"Because I know the people," Rodney said. "Isn't that breaking some of the rules?"
Daniel grinned wryly. "Yeah, probably. I don't have a problem with that. Do you?"
Rodney's eyes narrowed. "John tells me you're a trouble-maker," he said.
Daniel shrugged. "He's probably right about that, but then, John's broken a few rules himself."
Rodney caught pace beside him. "How long have you known John?"
"Since I died," Daniel said. "He and Jack were both there. It was the last reap of a friend of theirs."
"Really?"
Daniel nodded. "Yeah, Aiden Ford, I think his name was."
"When did you die?" Rodney asked. Daniel seemed to be the only one that didn't mind talking about it. Rodney wondered if there was a subject Daniel would mind talking about.
"1973," Daniel told him. "I'm almost sixty-five years old now."
"You look good for your age," Rodney said.
Daniel grinned over at him. "I guess. It might have been fun to grow old, though."
"How old is John, do you think?" Rodney asked, trying to sound casual.
Daniel threw him a sideways glance. "You seem pretty interested in John."
"I'm living with him," Rodney said. "I just get curious. Wouldn't you be curious?"
Daniel's eyes narrowed like he knew there was more to it than that, but after a moment he just shrugged. "I think he died in the sixties," Daniel told him. "I don't know anymore than that. John doesn't...talk about things."
Rodney glared at him. "I thought you were the one with the answers," he said petulantly.
"No," Daniel said ruefully. "I'm just the one with questions."
-----
After his reap, Rodney went home and raided the kitchen, partly because he was feeling a little light-headed, and partly to get his mind off the latest death. It hadn't been pretty. Electrocution, Rodney decided, was not a good way to die. The man had looked twice as old by the time the current had stopped running through him.
Still, he had to wonder at how calmly everyone but him seemed to accept their death. Maybe it was because they knew instinctively somehow that it was almost over, that they got their lights and got to cross over. Rodney hadn't had that feeling, because he'd been chosen to be a grim reaper instead.
"This sucks," he told Thales.
Thales just curled up next to him and started purring. Things were a lot simpler in Thales' world, and while Rodney liked to think Thales remembered him, the cat probably just liked him because he gave him food.
John came back early this time, and Rodney watched him as he went straight to the kitchen, hopped up on the counter and pulled down a box of Captain Crunch.
"So what's up with you?" Rodney asked. "Are you bored with me or something?"
John spun over the top of the counter so he was sitting facing him. He grinned. "No, I just had some things to do."
"What kind of things?" Rodney asked.
"The personal kind," John told him.
"We're undead. I thought we weren't allowed personal things," Rodney said.
"Wow. You're in a good mood today," John said wryly.
"Daniel told me that I should get my old job back," Rodney said. "It's extremely high paying, so I figure--"
"Whoa, hold it," John interrupted. "Don't let Daniel give you any ideas. Jack will let Daniel get away with murder, but that's Daniel."
"What does that mean?" Rodney snapped.
"It means he doesn't let the rest of us get away with anything, and I've told you before, you don't want to piss Jack off."
"Have you pissed him off?" Rodney asked. "Have you ever done something he didn't like?"
"I piss him off all the time," John said. "One time I called him away from an episode of The Simpsons, and take it from me, it was bad; man, was he furious."
"I'm serious here," Rodney said. "You've been at this a lot longer than me, you said, so shouldn't you be helping me out instead of spouting a bunch of greeting card dribble? Move on, leave your burdens behind, etc upon mind-numbing etc?"
"Well what do you want me to say?" John asked, setting the cereal box aside. "Be miserable? Go back to your life and let it destroy you? Does that help?"
"Some sharing would be nice," Rodney said, crossing his arms. "We've known each other almost a month and you probably know everything there is to know about me. I don't know anything about you."
"There's nothing to know," John said. "I lived, and then I died. No one cared, no one cried, and I didn't give a fuck one way or another."
"I don't believe that," Rodney said. "You couldn't just die and not care..."
"You say that because things are different for you now," John said. "You can't see your friends. You can't do your job. Nothing much changed for me, so I've got nothing to mourn."
"John..."
"You can use my bed tonight, if you want," John told him, as he hopped off the counter.
"John..." Rodney started again.
"I'm flying a little further than usual, so I'll probably stay the night in a motel. If I'm late, you can tell Jack where I am."
"John," Rodney didn't know why he was bothering. He might as well be silent for as much attention as John would pay him.
John went out the door without looking back, and didn't even have the decency to slam it shut. John couldn't even be bothered to pretend his conversation with Rodney had affected him in any way, because that damn cool he'd admired at first didn't seem to break.
Rodney picked Thales up and wandered back into the bedroom. He collapsed down on the bed, and that was when he saw what had been in front of him all along.
The photo wasn't shiny or glossy like all the rest, it wasn't cut from some magazine; it wasn't even framed. It was old, tinged a little brown with age and frayed around the edges. John was in the center, looking exactly as he still looked, standing smartly in a flight suit in front of a helicopter. Two other men were with him, their arms all around each other, smiling like they were vacationing somewhere and not stationed in a jungle.
There were three sets of dog tags just beside it. One pair belonged to a John Sheppard. Rodney held the dog tags in his hand, and it was suddenly a little hard to breathe, because he'd somehow thought it would bring them closer if he only knew. Now he had a good guess how John had died, and he'd never seemed more untouchable.
It was hard to reconcile the smiling man in that photo with the John he knew; the smile was the same one he'd seen a hundred times already, but in that photo, it didn't look forced or practiced, it looked genuine.
Rodney wondered how long John had between that picture and his death.
-----
Rodney woke up, curled around John's pillow, Thales stretched at the foot of the bed and the sound of running water in the kitchen. He stumbled, bleary eyed towards the noise, squinting in the bright light at John's back. "You're back."
John turned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
Rodney waved a dismissive hand, flopping into a chair at the kitchen table. "What time is it?"
"Close to three," John answered. "Coffee?"
Rodney was tempted, but knew if he accepted that would be it for sleep, he'd be awake the rest of the night. "No, thanks." John nodded, flicking off the coffee maker. "Aren't you going to have any?"
"I just finished," John smiled. "I got back around one thirty; you were dead to the world...no pun intended." He winked, slouching against the counter.
Rodney rolled his eyes, but there was a smirk tugging at his lips. He stifled a yawn, watching John through blurry eyes. "You should get some sleep."
John shrugged. "I'm good, but you should go back to bed." He grinned. "I don't give up my bed often so you should definitely take advantage."
Rodney shoved away the inappropriate thoughts that statement produced and pushed away from the table. "Well, if you're going to make me go back to sleeping on the couch tomorrow then I am definitely taking advantage tonight." He quirked a shy grin at John and said goodnight before shuffling back towards John's bed--Thales in the same position he was in when Rodney had gotten up.
Climbing back under the blankets Rodney shifted until he was comfortable, arm automatically curling around John's pillow again. With a contented sigh he was asleep in minutes.
John stood at the doorway to his room, watching Rodney snore quietly, a smile playing across his mouth before he disappeared back into the living room to wait the coming morning.
____
Rodney dove into his breakfast, not wanting another day to start with him being dragged away because his 'baby-sitter' couldn't wait five minutes. He hoped that Jack paired him with John today--not that Daniel wasn't nice and all but Rodney was really hoping to have the chance to grill John about where he was and what was going on.
As things rarely went Rodney's way, Jack paired him with Ronon. His eyes widened when Ronon bared his teeth, his long dreads swinging to and fro as he stood, swishing his trench coat behind him. Swallowing Rodney threw a glare at Jack and a 'help-me' look towards John. He wasn't surprised when neither worked. Following Ronon from O'Malley's he tilted his head. "So--"
Not surprisingly things went downhill from there. It turned out that Ronon was not a chatty person, he liked knives--lots and lots of knives, and he took a disturbing pleasure in reaping. Whereas he'd now been witness to both John and Daniel reaping on numerous occasions, not to mention his own reaps, this was the first time he'd seen Ronon in action. And Ronon enjoyed it. John and Daniel and even he himself were somewhat somber when it came to reaping--Ronon looked like he was about to get laid. That in and of itself disturbed Rodney to no end.
Although he had to admit he got a perverse amount of amusement over the reactions Ronon got from passersby. He may not look the same to them as he did to Rodney and the others, but he was still very large and very intimidating and everyone gave him plenty of space.
Today's reap was some stoner skateboarder who, when he popped up beside them, tilted his head back (way back) to see Ronon as he muttered, "Duuuude." Rodney rolled his eyes when Ronon engaged the stoner in some complicated handshake before mumbling something Rodney couldn't quite catch. Then came the shimmering lights and the largest skatepark Rodney had every seen and the stoner yelled 'Sweet!' and took off running, disappearing with the light.
The one good thing about Ronon though, was that he loved to eat even more than Rodney and after they'd done Ronon's reap they killed time waiting for Rodney's in some biker bar Ronon fit perfectly into and Rodney stood out of like a sore thumb. They ate onion rings and fries, had a couple beers and watched the TV above the bar playing the strong man competitions. Rodney didn't really feel inclined to try and make conversation with Ronon, but thought with a mental sigh that if Jack was going to start forcing him to go out on reaps with Ronon he should probably at least pretend to be interested in the man's life-or death...whatever.
Clearing his throat, Rodney rolled his bottle of beer between his hands. "So, how did you end up here?"
Ronon shrugged, tossing a peanut into his mouth. "Found it one day after a reap."
Rodney frowned. "I'm not talking about the bar--how did you become a reaper?"
He turned and looked Rodney in the eye. "I died."
Rolling his eyes in exasperation Rodney snapped, "I never would have guessed, thank you so much for solving the answer to that question! I'm asking how you died, Ronon."
Ronon's eyes narrowed as he growled. "That's none of your business, McKay."
Gulping a little at the look in Ronon's eyes Rodney nodded. "Right--none of my business." When Ronon turned back towards the TV, Rodney fiddled with the label on the bottle. "It's just that--well I mean Daniel got squashed, John I think died in the war, I have no idea how Jack died but I get the feeling no one is really sure and I figured you all know how I died--"
His head snapped up when Ronon's bottled rattled the table as he slammed it down. "You talk a lot."
"Yes, well--I tend to do that when I'm nervous and when the person I'm with refuses to engage in any type of conversation," Rodney said defensively.
A smirk tugged at Ronon's mouth and he regarded Rodney for a moment before leaning back in his chair. "I was shot."
"Shot?" Rodney's eyes widened. "Like--mugged and shot or in a war and shot..."
"As in killed in a shoot out at the bank I was robbing."
"You were a bank robber?" Rodney squeaked, eyes wide in shock.
Another shrug and Ronon reached for his beer. "Needed the money."
"Oh my God," Rodney said, horrified. "And you couldn’t just-oh I don’t know, get a job?"
Snorting, Ronon took a swig from his beer, “Not many people want to hire a convict.”
Rodney rubbed his temples, willing away the oncoming headache. “What were you convicted of?”
“Kidnapping,” he rumbled.
Rodney’s mouth dropped-God, he was sitting with a kidnapper and bank robber...this was the type of people the almighty chose to make reapers? “Who did you kidnap?” Rodney asked warily.
Ronon’s eyes slid up to look at him before turning back to the plate of fries in front of him. “My fiancée.”
He wasn’t sure what surprised him more-that Ronon was actually answering his questions, or that Ronon had been engaged.
“You were engaged?”
“Her father didn’t approve,” he shrugged. “We ran away together--he found us.”
“What happened?”
“He told the authorities that I had kidnapped his daughter--he was well respected in the town and no one was going to take my word for it over his. They arrested me and I spent the next four years of my life in jail-then I escaped.”
“You escaped?”
“I would have been left to die in that prison if I hadn’t-escaping seemed like the thing to do.”
Rodney nodded. “Why didn’t your fiancée tell the authorities you didn’t kidnap her?”
Finishing off his beer, Ronon looked Rodney in the eye and said, “She never got the chance.”
Rodney frowned, “What do you mean? What happened to her?”
Shifting in his seat, Ronon turned back to the TV without a word. Rodney didn't ask him anything else.
_____
"So," Rodney said when he got home that evening after his reap, "I need a job."
John looked up from where he was lounged on the couch doing a crossword puzzle. "Okay," he agreed.
Rodney lifted John's feet, flopping onto the couch beside him and letting John's feet rest on his lap. He laid his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "I have three doctorates, degrees and brains coming out my ears," Rodney said with a sigh.
John raised an eyebrow, lips twitching as Rodney tapped out some random tune on his ankles. "You're dead now, Rodney--as I keep reminding you," John said with a smile. "In this life...you don't have any of those fancy degrees or PhDs. But with brains coming out your ears you shouldn't have any trouble finding a job." He laughed at the glare Rodney shot him.
"The problem is," Rodney continued as if John hadn't spoken, "is that I'm over qualified for pretty much every job out there and besides--I'm too brilliant to waste on some mediocre job. I can still make a difference..."
"Rodney," John warned. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like where this was going.
"I could fake the credentials proving I have my doctorates--no one would look too closely because my brilliance would be enough to prove I've got brains--"
"Coming out your ears," John nodded, pulling his feet from Rodney's lap and twisting so he was sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
"Exactly," Rodney beamed.
John placed a hand on Rodney's knee, shaking his head. "You can't go back."
"But--"
"No, Rodney--you can't." John turned to stare at Rodney's profile. "Jack wouldn't let you, you know that."
Closing his eyes, Rodney swallowed thickly. "This sucks," he whispered hoarsely.
John squeezed Rodney's leg, patting it gently and saying in an overly cheerful tone, "How bout I help you find a job?"
Rodney smiled, not opening his eyes. "Thanks."
"No problem," John grinned, pushing up off the couch. "You hungry?"
"Do you need to ask?" Rodney smiled crookedly, holding out a hand and letting John pull him up off the couch. As Rodney followed John into the kitchen to find something for supper he asked with wide eyes, "Hey, did you know Ronon hides knives in his hair?"
John burst out laughing, throwing an arm around Rodney's shoulder. "You don't want to know where else he hides them."
Rodney snickered as John pulled away, opening the fridge. Leaning his hip against the counter Rodney asked, "So, do you have any plans for tomorrow?"
John nodded. "Tomorrow--I'm finding you a job."
-----
"This is ridiculous," Rodney snapped. "I'm not going into a place called 'Happy Time'."
"Shut up and smile," John told him sweetly, before pushing him inside and directly into one of the stiff black chairs in the waiting area. "Dolores doesn't help people she doesn't like." John pulled out a portfolio, and held it out to him. "Now, here's your fake diplomas, your new driver's license, your birth certificate, just in case..."
"Hold it," Rodney snapped. "Emmett Brown? Are you kidding? You named me Emmett Brown?"
John flashed him a wide grin. "I love that movie. It was the first name to enter my mind--besides, I think you could totally pull 'mad scientist' off."
"You fucking bastard!" Rodney hissed.
"My, such language!"
Rodney glanced up at the startled exclamation. A woman smiled down at him falsely, taking him in with wide eyes. "I'm Dolores. Dolores Herbig. As in her big brown eyes." Dolores pointed to her eyes for further illustration.
Rodney despised her instantly, but John nudged him and hissed, "smile" so he forced his lips to tilt up.
Dolores held out her hand, and caught his. She shook it quickly before letting go and turning on her heel. "Now, let's see if we can't get you situated, Dr. Brown."
Dolores led him to a small cubicle at the far side of the room, and Rodney carefully sat down across from her. "Emmett Brown," she murmured. "Emmett Brown. Dr. Brown. That is so familiar. Have we met before?"
"No," Rodney said, smiling again, wide and false and until his lips hurt. John was lucky Rodney liked him so much, or he might have had to exact vicious revenge for naming him after someone from the absolutely ludicrous Back to the Future trilogy.
Dolores smiled back. "Oh well, no matter." She took his portfolio and began to sort through it. "My, you are qualified, aren't you? I think you're the most qualified I've ever had! How did you find your way to Happy Time, Dr. Brown?"
Because he'd died and gone to hell. Rodney fought to keep the smile in place. "Someone close to me died and I had to take some time off."
"Oh," Dolores said, putting on an exaggerated pout. "How sad. Let's see..." Dolores turned to her computer and started typing. "Well, this looks promising," she said. "Someone just died over at Atlantis Labs, so there's an opening."
Rodney tried not to wince. "Dr. McKay, wasn't it?" he asked casually. "I've heard he was irreplaceable."
"Oh, dear, no one is irreplaceable," Dolores said. "It says right here, looking for Theoretical Astrophysicist, which you are, are you not?"
"Well, yes, but I can't work there," Rodney said. "I knew Dr. McKay. Wonderful man. I wouldn't feel right."
Dolores frowned. "Hmm, well, alright, let's see here..." She started typing again. "There's also an opening at DST Corporations. It's headed by a Dr. Lee. Do you know him?"
"Dr. Lee?" Rodney snapped. "They put him in charge? That incompetent--" Rodney stopped himself at Dolores’ startled look, and forced the smile back into place. "That sounds...great," he said haltingly.
Dolores smiled. "Well, wonderful. Just wonderful. I'm sure that Dr. Lee will be pleased."
John was waiting for him by the water cooler when he wandered back out. "How did it go?" he asked pleasantly.
Rodney glared at him. "I hate you," he said.
John grinned widely. "That well, huh?"
------
Rodney started work the next day. DST had been looking for a replacement for months with no luck, and they were desperate for the help. John sent him off to work with a smile and lunch money and Rodney pushed his post-it deep into his pocket. He'd have to ask for a cigarette break or something around four o'clock, so he could go take someone's soul.
Dr. Lee was as stupid as Rodney remembered him being, which was evidenced by the fact that he'd hired Dr. Felger on as his next in charge.
Rodney decided that if he were still alive, he'd probably have to kill himself.
"We're called DST on account of us doing Deep Space Telemetry," Felger told him. "It's like an Acronym."
"It is an Acronym, you fucking moron!" Rodney didn't actually say this, of course, but he thought it really, really loudly as he stood there smiling and nodding like John had told him to.
"Your office is just over here, Dr. Brown," Felger said, leading him into a small six by six foot room with a computer desk and a chair, and fluorescent lighting. "We have an instant message network set up so that we don't have to waste time running around the office to ask questions. With your qualifications, I'm sure you'll figure everything out."
There was a huge stack of paper sitting in his inbox. Data backlogs and data entry. Hell was starting to look promising, if it got him away from here.
"Chloe, my assistant," Felger continued, "was transferred over to Atlantis Labs recently, so you'll probably have to do some data entry before you can get to the fun stuff. Call if you need anything!"
"Hey, wait!" Rodney snapped, but Felger was gone. Felger was maybe not as stupid as Rodney had thought, because he'd just effortlessly dumped all of the grunt work into someone else's lap. Rodney reluctantly stepped into the small office and sat in front of the computer.
He looked over the reports in his inbox. It had all been transferred in from Atlantis Labs. He remembered back in the good old days, when Radek would ask him what he wanted to do with all this fucking useless information (only Radek had never said fucking, that was paraphrasing) and Rodney would tell him, send it to those poor saps over at DST.
He slammed his head onto his desk and wished he could go back to being John's kept man.
Rodney moaned. Thinking of John didn't help his mood at all. John was taking mysterious to extremes, and the more he did glean about his former life, the less he felt he actually knew. Rodney bit his lip, getting an idea.
He pushed his inbox to the edge of the desk and out of the way, and then brought up Google on his computer. He ran a search for the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial Wall and easily found a site dedicated to it, thewall-usa.com. There was a search page to look for the dead.
He typed John's name, and wasn't surprised to find him.
He had been a Major in the Air Force, killed on November 7th, 1966, when his helicopter was shot down over Quang Nam, South Vietnam. The body was never recovered.
-----
Rodney was exhausted by the time he dragged himself back into John's apartment. In some ways it had been nice to have any kind of connection to his old life, and even Dr. Lee and Dr. Felger were vaguely familiar and almost comforting, despite that he knew them mostly by reputation, and had only seen them in person a couple of times.
But mostly it was just degrading, letting his brilliant mind go to waste like this.
Spending his one half-hour break watching someone fall to their death from a fifth story balcony hadn't exactly cheered him up any, either.
He'd been planning to sit in front of the TV, and probably fall asleep the moment he made it home. He seemed to be sleeping a lot lately, but dying took a lot out of you.
He hadn't expected John to be at the door to greet him, smiling like he hadn't for awhile, and actually looking happy to see him. "How was work?" he asked.
Rodney blinked at him, and then moved inside. "Hell on Earth," he said. "Forget fire and brimstone. Hell is florescent lighting and knockoff desk chairs."
"I'm glad you had fun," John said brightly, seemingly impervious to Rodney's bad mood. He rocked back on his heels, looking strangely pleased with himself. "I made you dinner."
Rodney continued watching him, not quite making sense of the words. "You what?"
"I made you dinner," John repeated, speaking slower, and with an amused drawl. "As a kind of congratulations for your new suck-ass job."
Rodney looked past John and saw that the table had indeed been set. Candles had been set around a large bowl of pasta, beside a cutting board with a fresh loaf of bread and grated Parmesan. Like the rest of John's apartment, it looked like it had come straight out of a magazine. "Do you like watch a lot of Martha Stewart or something?" Rodney asked.
Thales was asleep under the table, in a satisfied sleep, with some tomato sauce smeered on his ear. Rodney was glad that at least Thales had caught a break when he died--Thales had never been happier.
John rolled his eyes at him. "You're just supposed to say, 'thank you, John'."
"Thank you, John," Rodney said, and John ushered him into a chair and sat him down, before falling into the chair across from him. Rodney couldn't really stop staring at John. The most unbelievable thing about this last month probably should have been the fact that he was dead and still going strong, but it wasn't, it was John.
John seemed too good to be true, a little like he'd walked out of a magazine himself, and Rodney kept trying to figure out how he'd gone from the soldier in that picture to this. He wanted to ask him how it had happened, how he had died, how he had moved on. If he had really moved on at all.
Except John didn't want him to know. John would let him live here, would make him dinners, make him coffee, but he wouldn't tell him one damn thing that meant something. He wouldn't reveal anything that might give himself away.
John reached across the table and poured some wine into the glass beside his plate, before sitting back down and filling his own. "You can still be happy, you know," John told him. "Your life is over, but something new is starting."
Rodney nodded, wondering if John had ever taken his own advice. "Yeah, I guess. My new life of data entry and soul-nabbing."
"Yeah, well," John said. "There's other stuff too."
Before Rodney could ask what he'd meant by that, John was already moving on. "So here's to being dead like us," he said, and lifted his glass with a bright smile. Rodney lifted his own glass and echoed the toast, deciding as he did that John never looked sadder than when he was smiling.