TEAM COOL: ivory tower, "Day Six"
Title: Day Six
Author: ladysorka
Team: Cool
Prompt: ivory tower
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG
Warnings: (spoilers - highlight to read) Mention of past underage, possibility of character death (they probably don't die! Probably.)
Word count: 3,000
Summary: The room really was surprisingly nice, for a death trap.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the prompt in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
John woke and blinked up at the ceiling. It looked exactly the same as it had the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. He rolled over and looked out the window. The big sun was well over the horizon, reflecting brightly off the white snow, and the little one was coming up behind it. He hadn't meant to sleep that long. It was hard to keep to routine when you didn't actually have anything to do.
John grabbed his radio and put it on. "You awake yet?"
"Fuck you," Rodney replied.
John almost smiled. "So that's a yes?"
"I'm out of coffee."
"Then it's the perfect time to do some exercise, Rodney," John said, trying to keep his voice bright. "It'll wake you up."
"I repeat, fuck you," Rodney said. "Do we have to go through this every day?"
"Yes," John said. "You need to move, McKay."
"I do not. I'm stuck in a box. Moving would be the one thing I'm not doing."
John glumly looked around his own box. "Which is exactly why you have to move. Your body is going to scream at you otherwise, and then I'll have to listen to you complaining about it."
"I could just sit on my bed the whole time. You'd never know."
"I'd know."
"Fine," Rodney said, his voice grumpy.
"It'll get your brain working, buddy."
"John...." Rodney's voice trailed off.
"Hmm?"
"I've been trying to activate the hidden doors for almost a week. I'm starting to think there really aren't any."
"You'll figure it out, McKay," John said firmly. "Let's start with some stretches." Rodney grunted and John suppressed a sigh.
He'd known there weren't any doors since day three.
***
The room really was surprisingly nice, for a death trap. It had a good sized bed, a table and chair, a full bathroom with running water, and a huge Ancient computer console. It also had a surprisingly nice view, of a snow-covered forest and a lake beyond that. It just lacked one little thing; it had no doors.
They'd been on M8C-524, looking into an old Ancient research outpost. He and Rodney had stepped through an arch, he'd heard Teyla cry out, and the next thing John knew, he was in his little box. They definitely weren't on M8C-524, anymore. That was a moon orbiting a gas giant in a system with only one star. This was a planet with four small moons in a binary system. John had absolutely no idea how they got here. More worryingly, neither did Rodney.
John's only consolation was that Teyla and Ronon weren't with them. Or at least, he couldn't reach them on the radio, so he was assuming they weren't stuck on this planet with him and Rodney. He couldn't let himself think otherwise.
"Maybe we should try shooting the windows again," Rodney said in John's ear.
"Rodney, the bullets bounced. Do you really want to go through that a second time?"
Rodney sighed. "No. But I. I have nothing, John. Nothing."
"Look, I know you're frustrated, but--"
Rodney cut him off. "You don't understand. I. Have. Nothing. This place was some kind of Ancient hermitage. They came here to meditate their lives away. There is designed to be only one way out, and while I hear naked amnesiac is in this year, Ascension is really not in my life plan."
"Hey, it beats death," John said, though he wasn't actually sure about that.
"Mmm, maybe. But without the aid of helpful rebellious Ancients or insane 'ascend or die' machines, it takes years to achieve the state necessary for Ascension, and we do not have years. I don't know about you, but I am going to run out of food in the next few days. We are going to starve to death in tiny Ancient boxes because of their ridiculous cultural obsession with living forever on the astral plane. Wait. How much food do you have left?"
John had about half of a powerbar and maybe a third of a tin of Altoids. "Enough."
"Are you sure? I mean, I carry a lot more food with me than you do, and we weren't expecting this be more than an overnight, two days at the outside"
"It's not like I have any other options, McKay. It's enough." John lay down on the bed and stared up a the ceiling again. It still hadn't changed. "We have water. We'll be fine until the Hammond gets here."
"About that."
"Rodney!"
"Look, if the Hammond was going to find us, they should've been here by now. Woolsey would've called them back; Sam had just barely left Atlantis. There must be something interfering with our subcutaneous transmitters."
"So figure out what's interfering and turn it off!"
"I can't! There is nothing I can do! This console was designed be a damn library, not a systems access terminal!"
"Figure it out, McKay," John said and took the radio off, putting it down on the table. He could still hear Rodney squawking through it, but it was far enough away that he could tune out the words.
Maybe he should draw something on the ceiling, or shoot it. It would be something to look at. If the bullets didn't bounce.
***
"John? John! Sheppard, put your radio back on, you asshole. We have a problem."
John jolted out of his half-doze and sat up reaching for his radio before he'd even really registered Rodney's voice. "We have a lot of problems," he said.
"We have a bigger problem."
"With the interference?"
"No. Well, yes, but also no," Rodney said. "Do you want the bad news or the worse news first?"
"McKay!"
"Right. I can't fix the interference."
"Why not?"
"Because it's coming from an ion cloud surrounding the solar system. Not even I can do anything about that. Apparently the Ancients who came here didn't even want the temptation of being able to know what was going on in the war with the Wraith." The disgust in Rodney's voice was obvious. "They didn't want anything jeopardizing their precious road to Ascension."
Christ. Well, that meant the Hammond plan was out. Time to start trying to come up with Plan K. "Was that the bad news or the worse news?"
"The worse. The other thing could be considered good? Maybe?"
"Well?" John asked.
"I figured out how we got here. We were transported through the Gate. Which would be great, because Radek can just get the address from the DHD, but-"
John cut him off. "If it was that simple, they'd be here by now."
"Right, yes, exactly. I think we were, ah, routed through about fifteen different Gates. Maybe more."
"How long would that take Zelenka to go through?"
"Let's just say that we are completely and totally screwed."
John let his head fall back to the pillow. "Fuck."
***
The birds in the forest were oddly mesmerizing. They seemed to be doing some sort of dance, twisting and swirling through the air. John had always watched the birds when he was a kid. The birds and horses had always felt like the closest he got to freedom, before flying.
"Do you have any regrets?" Rodney asked, out of the blue.
John put his head in his hands. "Rodney...."
"I always expected that I'd have more regrets when facing my imminent demise. I'll never win my Nobel, since they don't award them posthumously, but Sam and Radek are far too honest not to credit me for my work, so my name will live on. I've never been married, well, except that one time on M4X-442, but we both know how my last two relationships turned out. The universe is, of course, lessened by the loss of my genes, but Madison is proving to be quite brilliant despite being half English major, so I trust she'll carry on the family legacy."
John could practically see Rodney's hands waving in the air.
"I suppose I regret never taking up the piano again. There's really no reason one small-minded idiot should've ruined an entire instrument for me," Rodney said.
"I didn't know you played."
"Mmm, I haven't in years. Gave it up when I was 12. So what about you?"
Holland. Mitch and Dex. Ford. Elizabeth. His mother. John opened his mouth to tell Rodney it was none of his business, but what came out was "Jamie Corrigan."
"Jamie Corrigan? Who was he? Or she, I guess."
John sighed and stared out the window. The birds were diving together now, falling and then climbing back up in unison. Maybe they mated in the winter on this planet.
There was no reason not to tell Rodney. The regs were gone. They were probably going to die anyway. And it was easier, not being able to see him. "Jamie was.... He wasn't my friend, but he could've been something more."
Rodney was oddly silent.
John pushed ahead. "He was in my history class, freshman year of college. He was. It. We got drunk. We...." He stopped, and let Rodney fill in the details. "I left his dorm the next morning, never talked to him again, and was engaged to Nancy a year later."
"So," Rodney said slowly, "not Jamie Corrigan himself, but the idea of him? Of what he represented?"
Freedom. The birds had locked talons, and were twisting so fast John could barely distinguish them.
"The first time I had sex with a man," Rodney said abruptly, "I was 17."
John started in shock, almost falling off the chair. That was. That was something he'd never expected.
"He was the TA of one of my undergrad physics classes, and he was 25, so it wasn't the smartest thing I ever did, but he was... nice. He liked me," Rodney said. "He thought I was funny."
"What happened?" John was certain his voice sounded like a croak.
"Oh, the usual things. He dropped out of grad school. Anyway, I didn't actually have sex with a woman for another four years. After I did, it was just... easier to stick to that side of the fence most of the time."
John closed his eyes. "Yeah."
"But it hasn't been for you, has it? I've known you for years and I've never actually seen you date. This explains so much about you. When was the last time you actually had sex?"
"What the hell, McKay?"
"Hah!" Rodney said, and John could hear his smirk. Rodney continued on in sing-song voice, "I've had more sex than you-ou!"
John really wished Rodney was in the same room right now so that he could hit him. "It's not a competition, Rodney!"
"It is, it so is."
"Oh god, McKay. I'm never talking to you again."
"Please. You know that you could never...." Rodney trailed off. "Oh."
"Rodney?" John asked.
"I need to think about this," Rodney said, and John heard the radio cut off.
He looked out the window, but the birds were gone.
***
John really wished his Ancient was better. He could only play solitaire so many times, but trying to actually read the stuff on the Ancient computer was kind of a challenge. He was pretty sure that this was some sort of bizarre parable about a girl who got eaten by the Wraith because she didn't meditate enough, but it could also be a physics manual using really weird metaphors. Either way, it was not improving his view of the Ancients.
The radio made a click and John asked "Did the Ancients ever talk about Quantum Mechanics with meditation metaphors?"
"Why didn't you ever... wait, what?"
"I'm trying to read this thing and. Never mind."
There was a long pause, and John kept reading about poor, doomed meditation-girl. The Ancients were messed up.
"I have a question for you," Rodney said, oddly tentative.
John sighed. "Shoot."
"Why didn't you.... Is it possible that.... Oh, fuck this. Do you like me?"
John clenched his hands tightly over the edge of the console. "Of course I like you, buddy. You're my friend."
"...right." Rodney's voice was brittle. "Right. It was stupid of me to think that... right."
John's heart was beating a mile a minute. He could see how this was going to go. If they got out of this alive, Rodney would never bring it up again, and he would never never get another chance. He'd have to watch Rodney try to win over a new woman, or maybe even a man, and he wasn't sure if he could do that again. And if they didn't, well.
"Anyway! Moving on. I think I may have found a promising--"
"Yes," John said.
There was a pause. "What?"
"Yes, I 'like' you. What is this, fifth grade?" He felt oddly angry with Rodney for making him say it.
"Really?"
"Yes." John wanted to hit something, or else possibly lie down on the bed and stoically not cry. The hunger must be getting to him.
"It's just that we're probably about to die, and sometimes people say things they don't actually mean in this sort of situation in order to try and make the other person feel better, which is completely ridiculous, by the way, and... really?"
"Yes! Christ, McKay." John sort of felt like his heart was being dragged through his throat, but the urge to hit something was winning. Mostly.
"Why didn't you ever just tell me? Do you know how much time we've wasted? Of course you do, you were busy pining."
"I was not pining." John leaned his forehead against the window and closed his eyes.
"Whatever you want to call it. This is so perfect, I can't believe I didn't see it before. If we make it out of here, how about getting married over Christmas at my sister's?"
John choked. "Don't you think that's rushing it a bit?"
"Of course not. We already know we like each other, we've already seen each other at our worst, and we've even already seen each other through major illness. And I know that you'd take good care of my intellectual property. What more do we need? Not to mention that we're both over 40, so we should really hurry this up."
John resisted the urge to beat his head against the not-glass. "You're kind of forgetting something."
"What, sex? Have you looked in a mirror lately? Jennifer and I actually talked about inviting you to join us once, but she thought it would be mean, which suddenly makes a lot more sense."
John really wanted this conversation to be over. "Jesus, Rodney, will you just--"
"And you already know that I'm a bossy sensualist and I already know that you have a bit of an oral fetish and possibly a wrist thing. It'll be great."
"Why don't we talk about this later, after we don't die?" John said, a little desperately. He was definitely not picturing Rodney ordering him to suck him off. He wasn't. He was just hungry.
"Oh! Oh, right, I found something that, well, looks a bit promising. A different avenue we haven't tried before, but it's worth a look."
John clung to the topic change like a lifeline. "Great! That's great. What is it?"
"I need to do some more reading to be sure. You're probably not going to like it."
"I've eaten nothing but Altoids for the past day, Rodney. It can't be worse."
"Well, that depends on your definition of worse, really. I'll get back to you. Oh, and John?"
"Yeah?"
"I like you too."
The radio clicked off, and John slid to the floor. Christ.
***
The birds were back. John watched them peck at each other. Maybe it was some sort of grooming ritual. One of them flew off and came back a few minutes later, presenting the other bird with something in its beak. He wondered if there were any bird specialists on Atlantis, these days.
"John? I think I've found us a way out."
Finally. "And?"
"I've figured out a way to disable the sprinkler system. If I do that and we each start a fire, I think the back-up emergency system will beam us out," Rodney said.
"You think."
"I'm almost positive."
"How positive?"
"Ah, about a 70% chance?"
"What happens if it doesn't work?" John was pretty sure he knew, but he wanted Rodney to spell it out.
"Either the sprinkler override doesn't work and we get very wet, or we, ah, die of smoke inhalation and burn to a crisp. We're probably going to have to let the fires build too high to put them out ourselves for this to work. Which is more than a little terrifying, I grant you, but it's the best idea I've had yet."
John let out a breath. "How high are the odds of that burning to a crisp thing?"
"Low," Rodney said immediately. "Very low."
"That's what you said about the bullets and the not-glass," John pointed out.
"Well, the odds are even lower this time. Look, you know me, do you really think I'd be suggesting this if I thought it was going to end in my death? Or yours? If I was going that route, I might was well take the extra weeks until we die of starvation."
There was that. "How long will it take you do to the override?"
After a moment, Rodney said, "It's done. Get everything flammable together in a pile."
John knew how to build a fire, but doing that with a chair, notebook paper, bed linens, and empty MRE containers was a little out of his range of expertise. He wasn't even sure this was going to burn.
"Rodney, I'm set," he said.
"Make sure you're wearing everything you want to take with you. If this works, we're not getting back in here, and it looks cold out here. You are not getting frostbite now that I have a vested interest in your body."
John chose to ignore that. "On three?"
"Wait! John, I--"
"I know, buddy. Me too. One. Two. Three."
John lit the match.
**
Poll
Author: ladysorka
Team: Cool
Prompt: ivory tower
Pairing(s): McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG
Warnings: (spoilers - highlight to read) Mention of past underage, possibility of character death (they probably don't die! Probably.)
Word count: 3,000
Summary: The room really was surprisingly nice, for a death trap.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the prompt in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
John woke and blinked up at the ceiling. It looked exactly the same as it had the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. He rolled over and looked out the window. The big sun was well over the horizon, reflecting brightly off the white snow, and the little one was coming up behind it. He hadn't meant to sleep that long. It was hard to keep to routine when you didn't actually have anything to do.
John grabbed his radio and put it on. "You awake yet?"
"Fuck you," Rodney replied.
John almost smiled. "So that's a yes?"
"I'm out of coffee."
"Then it's the perfect time to do some exercise, Rodney," John said, trying to keep his voice bright. "It'll wake you up."
"I repeat, fuck you," Rodney said. "Do we have to go through this every day?"
"Yes," John said. "You need to move, McKay."
"I do not. I'm stuck in a box. Moving would be the one thing I'm not doing."
John glumly looked around his own box. "Which is exactly why you have to move. Your body is going to scream at you otherwise, and then I'll have to listen to you complaining about it."
"I could just sit on my bed the whole time. You'd never know."
"I'd know."
"Fine," Rodney said, his voice grumpy.
"It'll get your brain working, buddy."
"John...." Rodney's voice trailed off.
"Hmm?"
"I've been trying to activate the hidden doors for almost a week. I'm starting to think there really aren't any."
"You'll figure it out, McKay," John said firmly. "Let's start with some stretches." Rodney grunted and John suppressed a sigh.
He'd known there weren't any doors since day three.
***
The room really was surprisingly nice, for a death trap. It had a good sized bed, a table and chair, a full bathroom with running water, and a huge Ancient computer console. It also had a surprisingly nice view, of a snow-covered forest and a lake beyond that. It just lacked one little thing; it had no doors.
They'd been on M8C-524, looking into an old Ancient research outpost. He and Rodney had stepped through an arch, he'd heard Teyla cry out, and the next thing John knew, he was in his little box. They definitely weren't on M8C-524, anymore. That was a moon orbiting a gas giant in a system with only one star. This was a planet with four small moons in a binary system. John had absolutely no idea how they got here. More worryingly, neither did Rodney.
John's only consolation was that Teyla and Ronon weren't with them. Or at least, he couldn't reach them on the radio, so he was assuming they weren't stuck on this planet with him and Rodney. He couldn't let himself think otherwise.
"Maybe we should try shooting the windows again," Rodney said in John's ear.
"Rodney, the bullets bounced. Do you really want to go through that a second time?"
Rodney sighed. "No. But I. I have nothing, John. Nothing."
"Look, I know you're frustrated, but--"
Rodney cut him off. "You don't understand. I. Have. Nothing. This place was some kind of Ancient hermitage. They came here to meditate their lives away. There is designed to be only one way out, and while I hear naked amnesiac is in this year, Ascension is really not in my life plan."
"Hey, it beats death," John said, though he wasn't actually sure about that.
"Mmm, maybe. But without the aid of helpful rebellious Ancients or insane 'ascend or die' machines, it takes years to achieve the state necessary for Ascension, and we do not have years. I don't know about you, but I am going to run out of food in the next few days. We are going to starve to death in tiny Ancient boxes because of their ridiculous cultural obsession with living forever on the astral plane. Wait. How much food do you have left?"
John had about half of a powerbar and maybe a third of a tin of Altoids. "Enough."
"Are you sure? I mean, I carry a lot more food with me than you do, and we weren't expecting this be more than an overnight, two days at the outside"
"It's not like I have any other options, McKay. It's enough." John lay down on the bed and stared up a the ceiling again. It still hadn't changed. "We have water. We'll be fine until the Hammond gets here."
"About that."
"Rodney!"
"Look, if the Hammond was going to find us, they should've been here by now. Woolsey would've called them back; Sam had just barely left Atlantis. There must be something interfering with our subcutaneous transmitters."
"So figure out what's interfering and turn it off!"
"I can't! There is nothing I can do! This console was designed be a damn library, not a systems access terminal!"
"Figure it out, McKay," John said and took the radio off, putting it down on the table. He could still hear Rodney squawking through it, but it was far enough away that he could tune out the words.
Maybe he should draw something on the ceiling, or shoot it. It would be something to look at. If the bullets didn't bounce.
***
"John? John! Sheppard, put your radio back on, you asshole. We have a problem."
John jolted out of his half-doze and sat up reaching for his radio before he'd even really registered Rodney's voice. "We have a lot of problems," he said.
"We have a bigger problem."
"With the interference?"
"No. Well, yes, but also no," Rodney said. "Do you want the bad news or the worse news first?"
"McKay!"
"Right. I can't fix the interference."
"Why not?"
"Because it's coming from an ion cloud surrounding the solar system. Not even I can do anything about that. Apparently the Ancients who came here didn't even want the temptation of being able to know what was going on in the war with the Wraith." The disgust in Rodney's voice was obvious. "They didn't want anything jeopardizing their precious road to Ascension."
Christ. Well, that meant the Hammond plan was out. Time to start trying to come up with Plan K. "Was that the bad news or the worse news?"
"The worse. The other thing could be considered good? Maybe?"
"Well?" John asked.
"I figured out how we got here. We were transported through the Gate. Which would be great, because Radek can just get the address from the DHD, but-"
John cut him off. "If it was that simple, they'd be here by now."
"Right, yes, exactly. I think we were, ah, routed through about fifteen different Gates. Maybe more."
"How long would that take Zelenka to go through?"
"Let's just say that we are completely and totally screwed."
John let his head fall back to the pillow. "Fuck."
***
The birds in the forest were oddly mesmerizing. They seemed to be doing some sort of dance, twisting and swirling through the air. John had always watched the birds when he was a kid. The birds and horses had always felt like the closest he got to freedom, before flying.
"Do you have any regrets?" Rodney asked, out of the blue.
John put his head in his hands. "Rodney...."
"I always expected that I'd have more regrets when facing my imminent demise. I'll never win my Nobel, since they don't award them posthumously, but Sam and Radek are far too honest not to credit me for my work, so my name will live on. I've never been married, well, except that one time on M4X-442, but we both know how my last two relationships turned out. The universe is, of course, lessened by the loss of my genes, but Madison is proving to be quite brilliant despite being half English major, so I trust she'll carry on the family legacy."
John could practically see Rodney's hands waving in the air.
"I suppose I regret never taking up the piano again. There's really no reason one small-minded idiot should've ruined an entire instrument for me," Rodney said.
"I didn't know you played."
"Mmm, I haven't in years. Gave it up when I was 12. So what about you?"
Holland. Mitch and Dex. Ford. Elizabeth. His mother. John opened his mouth to tell Rodney it was none of his business, but what came out was "Jamie Corrigan."
"Jamie Corrigan? Who was he? Or she, I guess."
John sighed and stared out the window. The birds were diving together now, falling and then climbing back up in unison. Maybe they mated in the winter on this planet.
There was no reason not to tell Rodney. The regs were gone. They were probably going to die anyway. And it was easier, not being able to see him. "Jamie was.... He wasn't my friend, but he could've been something more."
Rodney was oddly silent.
John pushed ahead. "He was in my history class, freshman year of college. He was. It. We got drunk. We...." He stopped, and let Rodney fill in the details. "I left his dorm the next morning, never talked to him again, and was engaged to Nancy a year later."
"So," Rodney said slowly, "not Jamie Corrigan himself, but the idea of him? Of what he represented?"
Freedom. The birds had locked talons, and were twisting so fast John could barely distinguish them.
"The first time I had sex with a man," Rodney said abruptly, "I was 17."
John started in shock, almost falling off the chair. That was. That was something he'd never expected.
"He was the TA of one of my undergrad physics classes, and he was 25, so it wasn't the smartest thing I ever did, but he was... nice. He liked me," Rodney said. "He thought I was funny."
"What happened?" John was certain his voice sounded like a croak.
"Oh, the usual things. He dropped out of grad school. Anyway, I didn't actually have sex with a woman for another four years. After I did, it was just... easier to stick to that side of the fence most of the time."
John closed his eyes. "Yeah."
"But it hasn't been for you, has it? I've known you for years and I've never actually seen you date. This explains so much about you. When was the last time you actually had sex?"
"What the hell, McKay?"
"Hah!" Rodney said, and John could hear his smirk. Rodney continued on in sing-song voice, "I've had more sex than you-ou!"
John really wished Rodney was in the same room right now so that he could hit him. "It's not a competition, Rodney!"
"It is, it so is."
"Oh god, McKay. I'm never talking to you again."
"Please. You know that you could never...." Rodney trailed off. "Oh."
"Rodney?" John asked.
"I need to think about this," Rodney said, and John heard the radio cut off.
He looked out the window, but the birds were gone.
***
John really wished his Ancient was better. He could only play solitaire so many times, but trying to actually read the stuff on the Ancient computer was kind of a challenge. He was pretty sure that this was some sort of bizarre parable about a girl who got eaten by the Wraith because she didn't meditate enough, but it could also be a physics manual using really weird metaphors. Either way, it was not improving his view of the Ancients.
The radio made a click and John asked "Did the Ancients ever talk about Quantum Mechanics with meditation metaphors?"
"Why didn't you ever... wait, what?"
"I'm trying to read this thing and. Never mind."
There was a long pause, and John kept reading about poor, doomed meditation-girl. The Ancients were messed up.
"I have a question for you," Rodney said, oddly tentative.
John sighed. "Shoot."
"Why didn't you.... Is it possible that.... Oh, fuck this. Do you like me?"
John clenched his hands tightly over the edge of the console. "Of course I like you, buddy. You're my friend."
"...right." Rodney's voice was brittle. "Right. It was stupid of me to think that... right."
John's heart was beating a mile a minute. He could see how this was going to go. If they got out of this alive, Rodney would never bring it up again, and he would never never get another chance. He'd have to watch Rodney try to win over a new woman, or maybe even a man, and he wasn't sure if he could do that again. And if they didn't, well.
"Anyway! Moving on. I think I may have found a promising--"
"Yes," John said.
There was a pause. "What?"
"Yes, I 'like' you. What is this, fifth grade?" He felt oddly angry with Rodney for making him say it.
"Really?"
"Yes." John wanted to hit something, or else possibly lie down on the bed and stoically not cry. The hunger must be getting to him.
"It's just that we're probably about to die, and sometimes people say things they don't actually mean in this sort of situation in order to try and make the other person feel better, which is completely ridiculous, by the way, and... really?"
"Yes! Christ, McKay." John sort of felt like his heart was being dragged through his throat, but the urge to hit something was winning. Mostly.
"Why didn't you ever just tell me? Do you know how much time we've wasted? Of course you do, you were busy pining."
"I was not pining." John leaned his forehead against the window and closed his eyes.
"Whatever you want to call it. This is so perfect, I can't believe I didn't see it before. If we make it out of here, how about getting married over Christmas at my sister's?"
John choked. "Don't you think that's rushing it a bit?"
"Of course not. We already know we like each other, we've already seen each other at our worst, and we've even already seen each other through major illness. And I know that you'd take good care of my intellectual property. What more do we need? Not to mention that we're both over 40, so we should really hurry this up."
John resisted the urge to beat his head against the not-glass. "You're kind of forgetting something."
"What, sex? Have you looked in a mirror lately? Jennifer and I actually talked about inviting you to join us once, but she thought it would be mean, which suddenly makes a lot more sense."
John really wanted this conversation to be over. "Jesus, Rodney, will you just--"
"And you already know that I'm a bossy sensualist and I already know that you have a bit of an oral fetish and possibly a wrist thing. It'll be great."
"Why don't we talk about this later, after we don't die?" John said, a little desperately. He was definitely not picturing Rodney ordering him to suck him off. He wasn't. He was just hungry.
"Oh! Oh, right, I found something that, well, looks a bit promising. A different avenue we haven't tried before, but it's worth a look."
John clung to the topic change like a lifeline. "Great! That's great. What is it?"
"I need to do some more reading to be sure. You're probably not going to like it."
"I've eaten nothing but Altoids for the past day, Rodney. It can't be worse."
"Well, that depends on your definition of worse, really. I'll get back to you. Oh, and John?"
"Yeah?"
"I like you too."
The radio clicked off, and John slid to the floor. Christ.
***
The birds were back. John watched them peck at each other. Maybe it was some sort of grooming ritual. One of them flew off and came back a few minutes later, presenting the other bird with something in its beak. He wondered if there were any bird specialists on Atlantis, these days.
"John? I think I've found us a way out."
Finally. "And?"
"I've figured out a way to disable the sprinkler system. If I do that and we each start a fire, I think the back-up emergency system will beam us out," Rodney said.
"You think."
"I'm almost positive."
"How positive?"
"Ah, about a 70% chance?"
"What happens if it doesn't work?" John was pretty sure he knew, but he wanted Rodney to spell it out.
"Either the sprinkler override doesn't work and we get very wet, or we, ah, die of smoke inhalation and burn to a crisp. We're probably going to have to let the fires build too high to put them out ourselves for this to work. Which is more than a little terrifying, I grant you, but it's the best idea I've had yet."
John let out a breath. "How high are the odds of that burning to a crisp thing?"
"Low," Rodney said immediately. "Very low."
"That's what you said about the bullets and the not-glass," John pointed out.
"Well, the odds are even lower this time. Look, you know me, do you really think I'd be suggesting this if I thought it was going to end in my death? Or yours? If I was going that route, I might was well take the extra weeks until we die of starvation."
There was that. "How long will it take you do to the override?"
After a moment, Rodney said, "It's done. Get everything flammable together in a pile."
John knew how to build a fire, but doing that with a chair, notebook paper, bed linens, and empty MRE containers was a little out of his range of expertise. He wasn't even sure this was going to burn.
"Rodney, I'm set," he said.
"Make sure you're wearing everything you want to take with you. If this works, we're not getting back in here, and it looks cold out here. You are not getting frostbite now that I have a vested interest in your body."
John chose to ignore that. "On three?"
"Wait! John, I--"
"I know, buddy. Me too. One. Two. Three."
John lit the match.
**
Poll