TEAM PEACE: Open Season, "Daytime Drama"
Title: Daytime Drama
Author: hyperfocused ( interview)
Team: Peace
Prompt: Open Season
Pairings: McKay/Sheppard (plus various background canonical and fictional pairings)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to off-screen injury, occasional mention of fictionalized sexual and other crimes. Many soap opera tropes were harmed in the making of this story. 99.44% pure.
Author's Note: Thanks to Artist to be Named Later for the delightful graphic, and to Beta to be named belatedly for going above and beyond. This fic inspired by the true story of J.R Martinez (All My Children’s “Brot Monroe”)
Summary: Will hero pilot John Sheppard accept the offer to start a new life as soap opera hunk Shep Johnson? Will “Atlantis!” wunderkind Rodney McKay (Rod Ingram/Meredith Ingram/series co-writer) finally win his first Zeddy? Will they find love, on-screen or off? Tune in past the cut to find out.
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**
John had been back for two months now, the skin grafts largely healed -even if he couldn’t quite stand to look at the left side of his face anymore-but he still hadn’t decided what to do with his life now that he wouldn’t be flying.
Not flying. Not. Flying. He couldn’t get his mind around that. It was all he’d ever wanted to do. The reason he’d joined the Air Force in the first place - that, and pissing off his dad - and now it was all over. He’d always thought that the day he’d be grounded was the day they put him in the ground. Sure, he figured, someday he’d leave the Air Force, or more likely be made to leave. A black mark for asking too little, or telling too much. He was demonstrably bad at following rules that made no sense to him, but he did it when he had to, or at least he was discreet enough not to get caught.
But when the order came to turn back, to fuck the men over when he knew he could save them, well, fuck that, and his career, too. He did what he had to, and now Mitch and Dex were safe, and sounder than he was. They were back in the thick of things before John got his last bandages removed.
John wouldn’t be going back. It wasn’t just the whole ‘The Air Force doesn’t need a one-eyed pilot’ thing. He knew that, but he wouldn’t have done anything differently. If they’d wanted to, they could have come down hard on him, he disobeyed a direct order, after all. A dishonorable discharge, perhaps an assignment away from the action, but in a place no one in their right mind would want to take. He pictured himself freezing his nuts off in Antarctica. Actually, he thought he might have liked that. Cold and white, no reminders of the fire that kept him on edge more than the pain did, willing himself not to cry out from his nightmare like one of the kids in the children’s ward.
“You’re very lucky,” the doctors told him. He could have lost sight in both eyes, instead of just losing the one. ‘When you’ve healed, they can do wonderful things with prosthetics. You’ll hardly be able to tell it isn’t real.” Sure, except that his career as a pilot would be over.
“You should be grateful.” That was never said outright, but it was implied. There would be no official repercussions from his actions. The outcome for his men had been good, even if it wasn’t so great for him. “You’ll be paying for it enough, son,” his C.O had said. ‘You’re the very definition of brave and crazy.”
"I’d like to think that ‘brave’ is winning.”
"Well, it’s done now.” He didn’t answer John’s question. “We’ll make sure you get the best care available. You’ll be - good as new in no time at all, ready to move on to the next phase of your life, whatever that might be.”
John really didn’t want to think about the next phase of his life. He didn’t want to think at all. “Yes, sir,” he’d said, and pushed the delivery button for his painkillers.
He couldn’t stay in his own world for long, much as he wasn’t ready to face the real one. Stuck, or safe, it didn’t matter. Specialists came in, one by one, and sometimes in muttering, arguing groups to discuss his treatment options - none of them pleasant - and assess his recovery. Well-meaning do-gooders dropped off tins of cookies he couldn’t eat, or scarves that hurt his new healing skin too much to wear. They thanked him for his service, overshared their own troubles or passed on their unasked for political or religious philosophies. It was amazing how his usual pleasant nod and non-committal almost-smile was seen as incentive to settle in for the long haul, when all he wanted was for everyone to go away. He tried to be pleasant to them all, thank them for their concern, but not encourage them to stay or to return.
It wasn’t all bad, he tried to tell himself, especially when compared to some of the other patients. He could still see, and walk, and write without robotic attachments. Sometimes he got an hour to himself, when the pain was waning and he wasn’t too doped up to think. Once in a while there was even a visitor who didn’t make him cringe, or feel less than human.
The curly-haired blonde woman with the little girl was one of them. She had stopped at every bed in the ward (except for the ones off limits to visitors). John knew this, because half the staff was talking about it. She was some kind of a celebrity. A writer, maybe. He wasn’t sure. Or perhaps it was the girl. She got second looks as well. He’d put her into the annoying do-gooder category at first, when she showed up with her little girl, dismissing her too quickly because she turned out to be just the kind of company he needed.
Jeannie Miller was bright, and funny, and so was her daughter, Madison. She brought a magnetic chess set, and asked him if he played.
“I do, yes. I haven’t played in a while, though.”
“You’ll probably enjoy this more than the soap operas the nurses all have on at their stations,” she told him.
“Doesn’t matter. They’ll switch it back on anyway when they come back in. I think my brain is atrophying faster than my body.” He didn’t actually mind the TV so much, though he wished his options weren’t so limited. Watching the soaps kept him from brooding over his own situation for awhile, and besides, his mother had watched General Hospital when he was a kid. He’d spent a few days home sick with Schoolitis pretending to think it was stupid, but watching with her. He still couldn’t hear Jessie’s Girl, or watch reruns of McGyver without thinking of her, and that time. It was good. She’d been relatively healthy, not taking a turn for the worse until a year or so later. “I don’t mind the noise, so much. I don’t recognize this one, though.”
“I figured you didn’t.” She laughed, and the little girl giggled. He didn’t know why. ”It’s called ‘Atlantis!’” She set the board up so they could play.
They were well into the game, and Madison was playing with some kind of educational puzzle. (John could tell Jeannie was that kind of mother) when the questions started. Normally he would have been irritated, at the very least, but it was hard to be angry at a matter-of-fact 8 year old who just wanted to know “how your eye got that way”.
“Sorry.” Jeannie said, giving Madison a reproachful look. ‘Madison McKay Miller! Remember how we talked about tact and politeness the other day?”
“I wasn’t being rude! Uncle Mer says the best way to learn things is to ask questions.”
“That’s okay,” John stepped in before the waterworks started. Though Madison was a neat kid, and didn’t seem the type to burst into tears. “I don’t mind telling you a little bit about it.” He trusted Jeannie to know he wasn’t going to tell a grade-schooler the gory details.
“I flew a big helicopter to help rescue my friends who were in danger. There was a fire, but we all got out safely.” There was no reason to go into the whole horrible incident. He wished he could have forgotten about it.
“My mom says war is stupid and too many good people get hurt.” With her crossed arms, and indignant expression, John could almost picture her ten years older: a college student, protest sign in her hand.
"Madison!” Jeannie shushed her.
“I don’t much like it either,” John said. “But keeping good people safe is important.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” Madison considered, then her expression brightened. “Were you in a coma?”
“No. I just got burned a little, and pretty soon they’re going to give me a cool new pretend eye, but I’m going to be all right.”
“Is it going to be a robot eye?“
“I’m afraid not.” He might have liked that, especially when he was a kid.
“Oh.” She sounded oddly disappointed. “I like your eye patch, though. Pirates have patches. You look like you’d be a good pirate. And then you could get a parrot.” She beamed, and John could tell she was imagining the possibilities.
“I hadn’t thought of becoming a pirate. It would be nice to get my hands on some gold doubloons.” He’d happily skip the wooden leg, though.
“That’s okay. I don’t have any of those, either. At least I don’t think so. Mom makes me keep all my money in the bank, so I don’t get a swelled head and turn into a little Bratney Spears.”
John laughed. “’Bratney’, huh? Sounds like your mom is pretty wise. But I can tell you wouldn’t do that. You’re nice to be so concerned about me.”
“It’s sad when people are sick, or hurt. I know. I was in a coma, but I woke up. And then I was kidnapped, and I had leukemia. Everyone was sad. I got lots of letters.” Madison said this so cheerfully John knew it couldn’t all have been true.
“Wow, that’s quite a list of maladies. I hope you’re all right now.” John winked at Jeannie. Or blinked, really, sometimes he forgot it was all he could do.
“I’m going to have paralysis next, I think. Or maybe it’ll be my brother. They haven’t decided.” She moved aside the puzzle in favor of a box of markers and a sketch pad.
“They?” He looked down at the neglected chess board. It was his move, but he’d been a little distracted.
“Mom and Uncle Mer.” Madison studiously applied some blue-green marker, or was it green-blue? John couldn’t be sure, to her drawing, followed by what seemed a wild scribble of black.
“I suppose we should explain before you think I’m an awful parent,” Jeannie said, reaching down to sweep neglected puzzle pieces into their bag while John plotted his next move. “Madison has a role on ‘Atlantis’, the soap opera I write. It’s kind of a family thing. My brother stars in it and also has a hand in writing, and our parents created Search for the Stars, the show Atlantis spun off.” She made a quick counter-move to John’s last play.
“Oh! That’s why you were so amused when I didn’t recognize it. I’ve seen Search for the Stars, I think. That was the one where the main characters lived in a secret compound under a mountain?” John vaguely remembered a woman dressed like Cleopatra, or some Egyptian goddess, anyway, being carried around on a litter.
“Well, One Life to Live did it too, but ours was first. The compound was very loosely based on Cheyenne Mountain.”
“I’ve been there. There’s not nearly as much chintz and velvet.”
“Yeah, we try for a little more believability on Atlantis, despite how silly Madison’s list of cliffhangers must sound. We’re all really proud of her.” Jeannie leaned down and kissed Madison on the head. In a few years, John was sure, Madison would roll her eyes at her mother’s proud words. but now she just smiled and pretended to be engrossed in her work.
“Sounds like you have good reason. She's obviously smart, and talented.” Yep, still doodling away. John was pretty sure she was listening, though. Sometimes kids had this stealth thing going on. He certainly had, it was how he learned things nobody wanted to tell him.
“What do you say when someone pays you a compliment, Mad?”
“Thank you very much. That’s nice of you to say.” Madison looked up from her drawing.
“Unfortunately, you wouldn’t have seen Madison on-screen today, anyway. She’ll be on tomorrow. It’s a big day for her, but of course I can’t tell you why. You’ll just have to tune in. I promise it’s not as bad as you expect.”
“As long as no one has a weather controlling device I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Yeah, Mer hated that storyline, too. He was -is, really - a scientific genius. Could have had his pick of research positions. We’re all lucky he consented to go into the family business, as he’s mentioned a few more times than I’d like to count. When we do science-based storylines he’s a stickler for accuracy. Not so much with the medical stuff, mind you - he says that’s all voodoo anyway. But once there was an arc where Samantha Carter discovered a wormhole to another reality, and he insisted we get a real astrophysicist to look it over.”
“Seriously?” John was no expert, but he never imagined realism as especially important to soap opera plots.
Jeannie sighed. “Unfortunately, Rodney and Dr. Kavanaugh didn’t see eye to eye. He left in a huff when Rodney asked him if he’d found his degree in the bottom of a cereal box.”
“That’s dedication to craft, I guess.” Or something. Rodney kind of sounded like a pain in the ass, but the genius part hopefully made up for it. “Is that where all the evil twins come from? The alternate reality wormhole?”
"Funny. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. No, we had to scrap the wormhole for budgetary reasons. Also, the network wanted the show to skew younger and hotter, and most of the characters involved in that storyline were well into their thirties and forties.”
“And did that help the ratings?”
“Not really. We lost a lot of long time fans, who’d been around since Search for the Stars, and the young ones aren’t watching scripted dramas much anyway.”
“They’re all Twittering and posting sextapes on Youtube. At least that’s what I hear.”
“Mer loves Twitter. He’s kind of a twit about it.” Jeannie wrinkled her nose, looking more like Madison than John thought prudent to tell her. “It worked out for the best. The teen actors got a reality show spinoff, Stargate University. It’s doing pretty well. And the veteran actors are back with decent storylines, if I do say so myself.”
“It sounds like it. I’ll try to watch if they’re not poking and prodding me with barbed spikes tomorrow when it’s on. I make no promises, though.”
“Hopefully they’ll hold off on the barbed spikes and just concentrate on making you feel better.” She put the chess game away, kindly not rubbing it in that she’d beat him. He blamed the painkillers.
“Since I’m clearly the loser here, I must pay a forfeit to the Magnificent Millers.” John handed Madison the pudding cup he’d had left over from lunch. He wasn’t going it eat it anyway. They’d be bringing him dinner in a little while, and he didn’t know how he’d manage to get that down. He offered Jeannie some orange juice.
Madison looked inquiringly at her mother. “Can I, Mom?”
“May I.” Now, the eye-roll came out. “Yes, you may.”
Jeannie shook her head at John’s offer. “Shouldn’t you be eating? I mean I know it’s institutional food - nobody but my brother really likes it - but it’ll probably help you get your strength back.”
“Your brother likes hospital food?” Sure, John had had worse - years in the military ensured that - but not by choice.
“Hospital, airplane. I suspect he’d like prison food if that scare he had after the science fair had turned into anything… Once our father brought home a case of MREs. Made Mer happy for a month.”
“They don’t really poke you with spikes, do they?” Madison looked worried, and John felt bad for his gallows humor.
“No, sweetie. The doctors here are really nice.” Especially when it was time for more medication, which from the way his head was starting to throb ought to be right about now.
“Okay, honey, I think we should let Major Sheppard get some rest. Let’s finish packing up our stuff, and thank him for keeping us company.” She put the small chess set on the bed. “You know, you should keep this. I’m sure there’ll be other people who want to play with you. And maybe we can come back sometime?”
“Anytime,” John said, holding up the game in thanks. He was surprised to find he meant it. “But call me John.”
"Thank you, John. Oh, wait. Mom, hold on a minute.” She called out to Jeannie, who shushed her. Madison handed him the picture she had drawn, a serviceable image of himself as a pirate, on the deck of a ship. He could tell it was him by the spiky hair.
“That’s terrific, but don’t you want to keep it? You worked really hard on it.”
“That’s okay, that’s what presents are for. But maybe I can take a picture of you holding it? Then I can remember you and the drawing.”
He didn’t really like being photographed in the best of circumstances, and even less so now. But this was different. “Tell you what. Why don’t we get your mom to take a picture of us?”
“Cool.” Madison handed the camera over to her mother. “You push this button here. Make sure you get us both in frame.”
“I think I can figure it out.” Jeannie told her. To John she said, “give her a few years and she’ll be directing the show, not just directing her mother.”
They left with a promise from John that he really would love another visit later. For the first time in months, he was smiling as he drifted into sleep.
When Jeannie first got the idea of adding the V.A. hospital to the list of places she could take Madison to do charity work (apart from opportunities arranged by publicists, which didn’t count, because they often benefitted the actors more than the recipients of charity), she had no ulterior motive other than keeping her daughter grounded now that she’d had a taste of fame.
Jeannie loved how John had talked to Madison, treating her like she had something useful to say. She could tell Madison had liked it as well. When Jeannie heard from the staff later how John reassured other patients, she knew what she had to do. She could see the impact he had on people; his was a presence that compelled attention. It was something that couldn’t be taught, and if it could be captured on camera, couldn’t be ignored.
Jeannie didn’t know what plans John had for the future, or what his background was beyond the military. He was clearly intelligent, and could probably do almost anything he wanted. He had something special, something innate within him. She hoped he would allow her to develop it.
Of course Rodney was not so easily convinced.
They were sitting laptop to laptop, going over upcoming scripts in Googledocs when Jeannie brought up the idea. Rodney had no qualms in telling her what he thought about it.
“It’s completely ridiculous. We are not hiring some wounded flyboy to play our new P.I! The guy’s not even an actor. If he were, then he wouldn’t have gotten himself shot down in Iraq ---“ He gave Rod a few more brilliant lines.
“Afghanistan. And he saved the life of two of his men.” Rodney didn’t know what his sister was thinking. First she’d red-lined Rod’s ‘If it wasn’t for me, you’d all have electrocuted yourselves” speech to his company’s underlings, and now she wanted Rodney to work with this - testosterone posterboy?
“Whatever. Give him a medal. Oh, wait. He already has one, I bet. But it isn’t for acting. Acting bravely, maybe.“ He typed in the three lines he really cared about again. Eventually they’d meet in the middle. He’d learned early in their working relationship to demand much more than he expected, because when he ‘compromised’, he’d get what he really wanted.
“I don’t know why you’re so against this. Have you seen his picture?”
"I don’t have to. As I was saying, he wouldn’t have gotten himself injured because he wouldn’t have been in a war zone to begin with. He’d have been playing a soldier-hero in a movie, or instructing his fellow marines ---“
“He’s Air Force” Jeannie had this way of interrupting just when he was warming up. He didn’t know where she got it.
“Whatever. He’d be teaching them how to avoid Syphilis in some military training film.”
As usual, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She thrust Madison’s pink camera phone in his face. “Tell me, Mer. Tell me you don’t want this guy.”
Rodney looked. Not want this guy. He wouldn’t say that, exactly. John Sheppard was gorgeous. Tall and lanky, or maybe it was because he was next to Madison that made him look so lean, he had a shock of black hair that was too artfully disarrayed to look at all military. Full, pink lips practically invited an extreme close-up. Even the still garishly red scar that bisected his perfect cheekbone from eyebrow to cheek did nothing to truly mar it.
“He probably has the acting ability of a piece of plywood, or worse, Cameron Mathison.” Rodney could think of acting jobs where that wouldn’t matter, though, where John’s uniform - and later what he looked like out of it - would be the only concern. “Hell. Give him a walk-on.” They could always use another ‘hot guy at bar’ for the East Pier set, or a ‘well-heeled diner’ at Ninth Chevron.
“So we’ll audition him. If he can’t hack it, we can work around him. I think - I just get the feeling he’ll surprise you. There’s something magical about him. Like it’s in his genes.”
“Oh, is that how Arthur C. Clarke’s line went? Any non-actor’s performance good enough to seem like real talent is indistinguishable from magic?”
“Madison liked him.” Jeannie could give as good an eye-roll as he could. He just hoped she got the resultant headache as well.
“And when it’s time to cast the next Barbie DVD I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You know Kaleb and I don’t like her to play with those.” He thought about asking what she had against DVDs, but decided not to piss her off, just this once.
“I never understood that. You allow her to play the bastard love child of a reformed serial killer and her returned-from-the-grave Step-Uncle, but you won’t let her play with little plastic dolls with breasts?”
“She knows the show is just pretend. Besides, she doesn’t watch more than her scenes. Says it’s silly.” She erased another of Rodney’s lines. He was sure it was just for spite.
“No argument there. Nobody ever said soap writing was quantum physics.” Though from even his limited experience, most university departments had their own little dramas going on.
“Feeling nostalgic for your late, lamented science career?”
“I didn’t have to go into the family business. I could have a Nobel on my mantel, or at least a Nebula.“ Rodney could only imagine how far his intellect would have taken the field. Probably, though, some secret think-tank, or quasi-governmental organization would have scooped him up, and he’d have a NDA that forbid the Nobel committee from knowing about his genius until years after his - untimely, he was certain -- death.
“Instead of losing out for a Zeddy for the fourteenth year in a row. Who do you think’ll get it this year? David Canary? Ladon Radim?” She stung, but with an undercurrent of sympathy.
“’Zeddy’ is a ridiculous name for an award. If they have to shorten it, ZPM is a perfectly serviceable abbreviation for the Zest Players Medal.” Still, he punched up one of Meredith’s sections, adding some lines to the heartbreaking challenge of the month that he was going to enjoy playing, where Meredith would come close to death, but everyone would rally around him. Rodney liked filming hospital scenes like this, because he got to relax while people worked around him.
“Oh, please. We both know you’d dress it up in Madison’s doll clothes if it’d help you to finally win one.”
“It’s a travesty that I haven’t. And hiring a nobody like John Sheppard - attractive as he is - isn’t going to bring the show any more awards. I can only imagine what Michael Logan is going to say.”
“I thought you said he was a hack, that he was as good a guide to TV as you were to Lemon meringue pie.” Rodney was still proud of himself for that line.
“I might need an Epi-pen to read his column without gagging, but I will admit he has influence. The morons still listen to him, and some of them watch our show.”
“You know, referring to our audience as morons might be why ratings drop after every time you release a statement.” Writing done for the moment, Jeannie handed him a pile of fan mail to answer.
“That’s ridiculous. People know who I am. They expect me to be outspoken.” He skimmed through the letters, signing photo requests, and writng a short line or two in response to questions. It was true, they could probably pay someone to do this, but he found it kind of fun.
“I don’t know if ‘outspoken’ is the word most people would use. Honestly, Mer, I think this guy has it. Just let me send Elizabeth to try him out. If he passes muster with her, then will you meet him?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” He didn’t tell her she’d won as soon as he saw the photograph.
John had been home from the hospital for a few weeks, and was slowly getting used to seeing his new eye in the mirror. Other than the waning shock at his reflection, he was feeling more sanguine about his new life, even if he hadn’t decided what to do with it. He was damn sure not going to take the pity position his father had offered, even if his brother Dave thought it would bring on a family reunion and make everything hunky dory between them. He didn’t want to work for his father before he went into the military, and now that he was out of it, that hadn’t changed.
The letter arrived on Atlantis branded stationery. He recognized the snowflake on the water symbol from the show. He’d gotten caught up in the program at the hospital after Jeannie and Madison Miller’s visit.
It was from an Elizabeth Weir; he recognized her name from the credits. She was a producer, or casting director, he thought.
“Jeannie gave me your name, and told me how impressed she was with you and with the work you were doing - despite the severity of your own struggles - to help other wounded veterans and improve their situations and lives while recuperating. I’d like to meet with you to discuss ways the Atlantis family might assist in that endeavor, and how you might find a home in our Serial Grouping Corporation family.”
He wasn’t sure what it was she thought he had done. Sure, he’d tried to help out where he could. Sometimes the red tape in the hospital was near impossible to get through, and patients or their families would be stymied. John would go stir crazy stuck in his room, and after a while he couldn’t stand to be doped up if it fuzzed him out too much. It was easy enough to go talk to people, or more often than not to listen.
He sent off a quick email:
Ms. Weir,
Thank you for the kind words, and please send warm regards to Jeannie and Madison. I’m not sure how much help I can be, or what you have in mind, but if I can be of use, I’m happy to discuss it.
It’s nice to hear you’re all a family at the SGC, but judging from what I’ve seen on Atlantis!, it must be quite the dysfunctional one. (Sorry, it was a joke I couldn’t resist.)
You can reach me at 555-1357.
John Sheppard
He got a phone call the next morning. Elizabeth Weir herself, rather than an assistant, which surprised him. She sounded warm and competent on the phone, and he agreed to come to the studio that afternoon. He wasn’t busy, and didn’t see the point of pretending he was.
The studio was bustling when he arrived, but Jeannie and Madison stopped to say hello, and introduced him to Elizabeth. She was a slim, dark haired woman with a red t-shirt and a clipboard.
She was clearly busy and in demand by everyone, but she took the time to walk him around the set. He met a few of the actors and writers, the technical director - whose Czech accent was a little hard to decipher - and got a behind the scenes view of how things worked. It was fascinating. He was disappointed, however, not to meet Rodney McKay, Jeannie’s brother, who was quite compelling on-screen. John had Googled him, and he was quite compelling off screen, as well.
“So, now that you’ve met most of the whole crazy family, how would you feel about doing a screen test?”
“I think it would be a waste of your time. I’m not an actor.”
"That hasn’t stopped several of our players. You learn on the job. Besides, I think you’re wrong. Just from observing your interactions here I can see you’ve put on several different personas. That’s what acting is. It’s also a good way to get to know yourself, especially when what that means might have changed. I’d like to get to know the real John Sheppard. I think he’ll prove to be well worth knowing. If you come to work for me, I bet you’ll get to know him, too.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“Then audition for me and find out.”
“OK, I guess I can try it. You’re wasting your time, though.”
“Let me be the judge of that. I should tell you, I’m rarely wrong about people.” She handed him a script. “You’ll be playing the part of Jinx Ringer, a private investigator. You’re just about to tell Rod Ingram that his wife, Jennifer, has been flirting with Blade Sateda, who runs the martial arts chain Rod owns. I’ll be playing the part of Rod.”
“That’s one of Rodney McKay’s roles, right? The mogul scientist? Or is Rod the sweet, developmentally challenged one?”
“They’re both Rodney’s parts. Rod Ingram is the billionaire with the heart of Naquada, that’s the mineral he discovered. Meredith is his warm-hearted, artistic brother. And as he says, since he writes, too, he doesn’t have time to bother with readings.”
“So how do you tell if he can work with someone new?”
“He’s a genius, as he’ll be the first to tell you. He can work with anyone. But only the truly talented can hold their own against him.”
Atlantis rises golden in the sun
The climbing spires of her desires
Shine on everyone.
The love that you once thought a myth is real
Atlantis soothes your heart in waves
Atlantis helps you heal -- Theme for Atlantis
“So I hear you’ve seen John Sheppard’s screen test.” Jeannie sat down on the edge of Rodney’s desk, heedless of the important papers - okay, the two stacks of publicity shots he was trying to decide between signing for his fan club - and looking all too pleased. “Use this one.”
“Are you sure?” He nudged her out of the way.“You needn’t look so smug about it. It doesn’t suit you.”.
“Is that all you’re going to say?” Jeannie crossed her arms over her chest, just like she’d done when they were kids and she’d been right about some bit of trivia.
“Do I need to say anything else?” He got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. Was he running low? If he was going to have to get into the disgusting stuff that Chuck in craft services gave everyone else, heads were going to roll.
“You saw him read.” Jeannie gave him the look, and Rodney grudgingly poured her some, too.
“I admit, he’s not without talent.” Rodney knew that was an understatement. John had fallen into the part instantly, no awkwardness at all.
“Or charisma. Or looks.” That, too. If Sheppard had a bad angle, it hadn’t come across on-screen.
“Fine. He could keep up with his part of the script, didn’t mispronounce any words of more than two syllables, and didn’t seem to scare away any of the other actors. That doesn’t make him the second coming of Tony Geary.”
“Well, he hasn’t agreed to come work for us, either. Says he isn’t an actor.”
“What do you expect me to do about it?” It wasn’t his job to recruit. Most aspiring soap actors would beg to get to work with him. Some of them had. Rodney chose to ignore the ones who later begged to get out of it.
“Go talk to him. Convince him it’s worth his time.” Jeannie’s pleading hadn’t really changed since childhood, though at least she wasn’t asking for ice-cream anymore.
“Wouldn’t Chaya be better for that? You know, hotter?”
“I didn’t ask, but I get the impression her charms would be lost on him.”
Rodney filed that for later thought. “Oh, well. Lorne, then. Or Aiden. Or Ronon. Nobody can resist Ronon.”
She shook her head at all of them. “I just think an appeal to his intellect will work better than one to his libido.”
“Are you saying I’m not hot?”
“I’m your sister. I’d rather watch my brain out with bleach than give that any real thought.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about you and the English teacher.”
“You know my husband’s name is Kaleb.” Of course he knew. It was just fun to tease her. He really had nothing against his brother-in-law, but secretly thought that if he was ever replaced by a look-a-like, no one would notice. It was all he could do to only call him ‘Darrin’ in his head.
"Whatever. Anyway, I’ll go talk to the flyboy.”
“Well, ex flyboy. And try not to call him that. From what I understand flying was the love of his life.”
Sheppard was sitting on one of the low slung leather sofas when Rodney found him, arm stretched along the back, and long legs stretched out. He looked like every twenty year old auditioning for a part as a poolboy, except Rodney could tell he really didn’t care. It wasn’t practiced nonchalance. And looking closer, Rodney could see signs of the lived-in face and body John possessed. It was true, the scar was the first thing one would notice. It only made him hotter, and the grey at the temples and laugh lines made him look more real.
“I’m Rodney McKay. You must be John Sheppard, the hero pilot.”
“You’ve got the name right. Don’t know about the hero part.”
“My sister seems to think you’re midway between Superman and Jesus. Only she’s an agnostic geek, like I am, so probably she’d prefer Superman. Personally I’m more of a Batman fan.”
“I’m more of a Marvel guy, myself.” Yeah, marvel did seem to describe him.
“Cyclops? Sorry. That was awful of me.”
“No, that’s okay.” He laughed, a braying sound that made him seem even more human, which Rodney kind of liked. “Everyone talks around it. I’d heard you were kind of an asshole, anyway.”
“If by asshole you mean someone who speaks his mind, and rarely regrets his bluntness, then yes, I guess I am.”
“Cool.” John grinned like he meant it.
“So Elizabeth tells me you turned down her offer of a role on the show,”
“It was a kind gesture, but I’m not an actor, and I’m not some kid fan who would get a thrill out of it.”
“Elizabeth doesn’t do kind gestures. If she wanted you to read, and said she liked what you did, it’s because she thought there was a place for you here.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve never had the desire to act, don’t know how I’d be memorizing lines.”
“What’s your favorite movie?”
“Top Gun. Why?”
It seemed Jeannie had been right. The gayest air force movie ever.“I should have guessed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, no reason.” Rodney had never been a good liar. But seeing how uncomfortable John was, and knowing his military background, Rodney gave him an out. “You’re a pilot. Daredevil type. Stands to reason.”
“It’s a good movie!”
“It’s a piece of crap. Even Val Kilmer doesn’t make its plot worth watching. Now, Real Genius? That’s a good popcorn movie. Or even Top Secret.”
“I always wanted a house full of Jiffy Pop. Top Secret’s good, too.”
Rodney tested him the best way he knew how. “Kent puts his name on his license plate.”
John hit it right back, the timing right, and everything. “My mom does the same thing to my underwear.”
“Your mom puts license plates in your underwear? How do you sit?” They both laughed.“See, you definitely don’t have an issue with remembering lines. I don’t think memorization is going to be a problem. Besides, there are ways to work around that.”
Rodney found himself really caring that John join the show. “Look, just try it. If you hate it we’ll say job well done. You’ve given it a go. At least you’ll know if it’s not for you. But I bet you won’t hate it.”
John scoffed. “Rodney, have you looked at me? I’m not exactly someone anyone would want to see on their HDTV?”
“You look like someone I’d like to see anywhere - sorry. You look great. The camera is going to love you. It loves me, and I’m not exactly an Adonis.”
“Not everyone wants an Adonis. Sometimes they want somebody who’s real.” If ‘real’ was what John wanted, then Rodney was glad he’d never gone for plastic surgery.
“What do you want, John? Do you want to try this?”
“It wasn’t awful. Reading, I mean. I didn’t expect it to be so challenging. It was kind of -“
“Fun?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll tell you a secret. We aren’t doing it for the big paychecks. Soap actors just don’t get them. It’s loads of memorization, crazy fans, and long hours.”
“You’re selling it so well.”
“But if you like it, you love it, and you wouldn’t want to be doing anything else in the world. Has anything been like that for you?”
“Flying.”
Rodney was sorry about John’s loss. He imagined John felt the way he had about piano for so many years.“Well, Atlantis is my sky. And I think it could be yours, at least for a while, if you let it. Believe me, learning a new part is almost as exhilarating as doing a barrel roll.”
“I’ll think about it. Only, they aren’t seriously going to name my character Jinx, are they? Wouldn’t that be borrowing trouble?”
“Almost assuredly not. Jinx Ringer is the name we always use for auditions. We don’t want to give it away when we’re recasting a role, and we try to use a name that fits the actor.”
“Good. I don’t feel like a Jinx. I imagine there are those who would call me exactly that, or worse, but it’s a stupid name. It’s weird enough that I’d be playing a one-eyed P.I.”
“And a war hero, too. Jeannie and Elizabeth want you to be something like your real self, so people will want to help your cause. They’d planned to have you do a few PSAs.” The ‘actor addresses the audience about the disease or issue of the season’ thing wasn’t really Rodney’s favorite part of the show, but he bet John could get a lot of people to commit to a cause.
“So I’m supposed to pretend to be myself? I think I’d rather be someone else entirely.”
“No, you wouldn’t. There’s a little bit of Rodney McKay in Rod and Meredith. Believe me, it helps.”
John considered all of it. A new and unexpected career possibility and Rodney’s interest. He wanted both, as long as one wasn’t connected to the other in some creepy casting couch sort of way. But that was silly. John was a banged up old pilot, not some dewy ingénue from the sticks. Against his better judgment - entirely because of Rodney McKay’s insistence, he suspected - John agreed to give the part a try. It probably wouldn’t be a long lasting role anyway, and if it somehow helped raise funds for veterans’ services, then terrific.
His character would be called Shep Johnson, just returned from Iraq (that was different), and taking a job as Atlantis’ newest P.I. His first client? The charismatic, brilliant Rod Ingram.
Rodney was right. Learning lines wasn’t that difficult, and despite Elizabeth’s insistence that he never did anything like that, Rodney took the time to read with him, going over their scenes to make them feel like more than clichés on paper. Turned out he had a knack for it, and besides, Shep was almost as laconic as John could be. Rodney, or Rod, on the other hand made up for it in spades. It was a testament to Rodney’s skills that he played the brother, Meredith, so differently, filling the space with his simple presence, rather than Rod’s brash bluster.
Most times, rehearsals turned into something more, especially when Rodney insisted they needed to rehearse and eat. His hypoglycemia was acting up. Hours long discussions ensued about everything from physics to football. On the one hand, Rodney was convinced the advancement of science had slowed because he’d given up his PhD work to go into the family business. On the other, though he could see the physics and mathematical properties of the game (and admitted he was more than a little turned on at the thought of John’s Mensa status) he thought football was a pointless way to get grown men to slap each other on the ass and grunt. “Why not just skip the middleman and go straight to the porn?”
“You’re an expert on porn, as well? What a renaissance man.”
“I’ve seen my share. And soap sex scenes are equally ridiculous. Unlikely situations bringing characters who hate each other together because they’re hot. The whole migrating sheet thing…”
“Migrating sheets?”
“You know, the couple are lying in bed together, and the sheet will cover the woman to her shoulders, the man just to his waist. And if she needs to get up, she’ll wrap the whole thing around herself, leaving him naked - only the camera won’t show him.”
“Too bad, you have an amazing ass.” He had an amazing everything. Rodney looked really good to him. Broad shouldered, solid, strong. Even the way his hands moved when he was trying to explain something to John - yeah.
“And no one’s going to see it but you, unless we move to HBO.”
“So no real nudity, and probably nothing like this.” John kissed Rodney with all the passion he’d been pretending to feel for the actresses they’d put him with.
Things were good between them, and the Atlantis crew was remarkably accepting. Possibly because happiness seemed to tone down Rodney’s Rodneyness just a little. Not too much, thank God. John liked all the traits that made Rodney who he was.
As John proved himself more than a charity case damaged pretty face, his part was expanded. He went from a recurring character who mostly responded to the main cast, and helped their plotlines, to someone with his own picture in the credits.
“We need to get you a real love interest, not just a hook up” Jeannie told him.
“Other than your brother?” John gave Rodney a conspiratorial smile, and bumped his knee under the table.
“Of course not. Rodney’s personal life isn’t up for public consumption. Besides, onscreen chemistry isn’t always connected to off-screen. More often than not, it’s the opposite. And Rod’s between wives right now.” Negotiations were still under way to bring back Samantha Carter, who was currently playing a librarian on another show, but seemed amenable to returning to her breakout role. “As much as I’d love to give Rod the happiness he probably doesn’t deserve, thereby sparing the good people of Atlantis more of his machinations, the network would balk if we went there.”
Over the next few months, Shep’s role was expanded greatly. He was given a new partner, Teyla Emmagen. She was smart and beautiful (and Rebecca Treller, who played her was gifted with incredible insight and talent) but despite Shep’s flirtation with her, even the scripted romance seemed flat and unbelievable.
Then they went another direction, a thief named Larrin, who he caught trying to steal from Rod, then let go when she revealed her motive. Rod was her long lost father, who had abandoned her as a baby. “Shep” had a few days disgust with his employer, someone he’d grown to admire. The real truth came out. Larrin’s father was Rod’s biggest rival, the ruthless Augustus Kolya (played by the scenery chewing Gene Aighe). That scenario didn’t ring all that true with John, who didn’t tend to date people who tied him up (outside the bedroom) but he wasn’t a writer, so what did he know? It didn’t ring true with the audience, either, except for the emotional scene in which the betrayed Shep confronted Rod in his laboratory, yelling and shoving Rod against the wall of supercomputers for making him believe in him when clearly it hadn’t been earned. Rod played it like he was the one who had been betrayed at first, but then broke down later and apologized.
Soaps in Depth’s Todd Michaels said, “Forget the fizzled romance of Rod and his on again off again wife Samantha, or even ingénue Katie Brown. Fast forward through the “I’m hot but they don’t know what to do with me” underused exoticism of Ronon Dex as the two dimensional Blade Sateda. True chemistry exploded on screen today with the impassioned exchanges between Shep Johnson and Rod Ingram. No one who witnessed the ‘elevator apology’ will be able to forget it. In future years, I feel sure it will be as warmly remembered as Karen Wolek’s courtroom confession, Luke and Laura’s wedding, or even Daniel Jackson’s original death. This is a relationship that should not be nipped in the bud.
Unfortunately, daytime TV is all too often stuck in the 1950s soap selling mindset of its origins, so it’s unlikely to ever happen.”
The message boards ate this up, of course. Debates rang out about whether a romance was possible.
“Rod Ingram has been married seven times, to 3 different women. He has a thing for busty blondes, not male brunettes. Of course he’s not gay.”
“7 failed marriages. Perhaps that’s a sign he’s been looking in the wrong place all along. And there’s no such thing as a male ‘brunette’.”
“Rod never apologizes. He wrongfully accused Sam of being a reincarnated Egyptian temptress out to steal his gold, and sealed her in a pyramid as punishment. He erased the research records of one of his rival labs. That he was remorseful this time, and clearly upset at hurting Shep’s feelings means something. Meredith is the one with heart. Rod Ingram never notices anyone has feelings.”
Rodney claimed never to read them, but John was sure this wasn’t true. And he was pretty sure that user NoLemon31415 who mainly posted scathing responses to what admittedly were asinine posts was Rodney himself, giving in to the irresistible need to have the last word. “No Lemon Pie” was just the sort of pun Rodney would make. The show had used his citrus allergies as a plot point more than once, most recently when he and Meredith had switched places to fend off Kolya. Meredith only had lemon allergies, Rod was allergic to all forms of citrus. When Kolya slipped a few drops of orange juice into the energy drink “Rod” was drinking the truth came out. True to his brother, Meredith had agreed to switch places. Rodney did an amazing job playing Meredith-as-Rod, and the consensus was that this, along with their work together would be what finally got Rodney his Zeddy.
Nominations were announced today for the 65th annual Zest Players Medals, awarded to the best daytime dramas. As expected, Atlantis’s Rodney McKay received his fourteenth nomination for his portrayal of Rod and Meredith Ingram. He also, along with his sister Jeannie Miller, received a nod for writing. Others nominated were Golden Gate’s Jack O’Neill, All My Children’s David Canary, and The Far Escape’s John Crichton - Vala Mal Doran, Soapworld.
“I’m sorry you got overlooked, I thought for sure you’d be a lock for best new male.” Jeannie told John when she and Kaleb and Madison and he and Rodney were having dinner the night after the nominations went out.
“Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t be the first time.” John hadn’t expected notice. He’d never imagined this as a career, and was happy enough for Rodney not to give a crap about himself. ”Besides, we all know this is Rodney’s year.”
“And that has everything to do with you, and you know it.” Jeannie insisted.
“Wait just a minute. Now you’re saying I haven’t even earned the nomination?” Rodney groused. “Much less the win, which if the imbeciles voting are anything like they usually are, will again elude me…”
“Mer, don’t be an ass. You know John has raised your already excellent game. You’re terrific together.”
“No argument there. John knows I think he’s terrific.” Rodney turned to smile at him, and blushed a little, and Madison giggled.
“Are you going to kiss? How come you don’t kiss in front of me, or make out like people do on the show?”
“This isn’t TV. We’ll probably do lots of kissing, and other stuff, later. Not that it’s any of your business, little girl.”
That was it, exactly. John squeezed Rodney’s knee under the table. He knew that Madison was all too curious, as well as being bright for her age. She also had the beginnings of the McKay lack of an inner censor. John realized he was very private about their relationship, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t ashamed, or in denial, but his natural reticence, and years in the military made him keep things quiet.
“I know that, silly. I meant, now.”
Rodney and John each kissed her cheek. “There, how’s that?” Madison giggled some more.
“It’s nice to see you so cheerful,” Kaleb told her. “She’s been down ever since Jinto Halling’s role was recast.”
“He got WRAITHed,” Madison said.
“What?”
Wee Rapidly Aged Into Teen Hottie”, Jeannie shrugged. ”Sorry. I didn’t coin the phrase.”
“It’s one of those stupid Soap Opera terms.” Rodney said.
“Jinto played Madison’s step brother. He hasn’t been on much since you joined the show, so I’m not surprised you don’t know him. He’s a good kid, if maybe not so talented. Mad has a crush on him -“
“I do not!”
“Unfortunately,” Jeannie went on, “It was decided that the character wasn’t working out as a 12 year old, and when he returns to the show he’ll be played by a nineteen year old actor.”
“That’s too bad. But he’s your friend, right? Even if you’re not working together, you can still hang out.” It was a tough break for a little kid. John had hated it every time he’d moved. It wasn’t too long before he started pretending he preferred his own company anyway.
“Of course they can. Come on, everyone, lets have some celebratory/commiseration cake. You can decide which it is when you eat it.”
“As long as it’s real chocolate and not some tofu carob crap, because my taste buds will not be celebrating that,” Rodney said.
Because it was expected that they each have an attractive woman on their arm, preferably someone related to the show, Rodney brought Laura Cadman, who played one of Shep’s former military coworkers, and was very nice, if a little too interested in the intimate details of Rodney’s life. She was always trying to get him to go running with her, and if John couldn’t do it - which he couldn’t, at least without promises of future blowjobs - nobody Rodney wasn’t sleeping with could, either. John’s date was Elizabeth Weir, who had turned into a good friend. She was fresh off a break up with her long time boyfriend, Simon, and he hoped she would have a good time. He figured the more awards her show won, the better she would feel. Really, though, they were one big group. Rodney pressed against him on his other side (leaning in to whisper snarky assessments of the other nominees and their guests).
“Don’t laugh, John. Everyone will hear, and wonder where Shrek is.”
“Then don’t be funny!”
“Shh!”
“Sorry, Elizabeth,” John said. Rodney didn’t look the least bit remorseful.
Awards ceremonies really weren’t John’s thing. He liked his worn in boots and jeans more than dress shoes that pinched and itchy tuxedos. But at least here he needn’t stand ramrod straight, or, God forbid, wonder which of these bright young men or women would be winning their medal posthumously.
He applauded through what seemed like hundreds of categories, more enthusiastically when it was someone from Atlantis who had won. But it was Rodney’s award he, and everyone else, anticipated most. Was it finally his turn? The screen ran a compilation of Rodney’s best moments, both as Rod and Meredith, and John was impressed all over again. “You’re amazing, no matter what”, he leaned in and whispered to him.
Rodney’s retort said “And this is news, why?” but the lopsided smile that accompanied it showed his real feelings.
“…and for Leading Actor, the ZPM goes to - Wow, it’s about time! - Rodney McKay!”
John, and the whole audience, it seemed, clapped and hooted, even Rodney’s rival nominees. He hugged Rodney, and watched as he maneuvered past the well wishers up onto the stage to accept.
“I always wanted one of these!” Rodney held up the circular medal. “Each winner of the ZPM is allotted three minutes to make their speech. I figured since the voters were all obviously morons until tonight -“ most of the audience laughed, and a few gasped. “No, seriously, I didn’t write a speech. I don’t need to plan ahead to say what I want to say, but also because I didn’t see a point. My time was better spent working on the show, or playing chess, or doing pretty much anything but not getting a Zeddy. I suppose I should pay attention to the time now, and bring out my list of people to thank. That is, if I had a list. Though there are certainly hundreds of people who make my work on Atlantis what it is, and make working with them a pleasure I never anticipated, I’m only going to name one of them now. John Sheppard is brave, and brilliant, and the real person you all should thank if you liked my work recently. He’d probably sell himself short - he’s not an actor, he says-but that isn’t true. He’s had some hardships, given up the career her was meant for-his wings were clipped too soon -- but I hope it helps him to know that as much as he thinks he was made for the air, he was equally made for the airwaves. Having said that, I would give up this award if it meant he could get back what he lost.” The ‘time’s up’ music started playing, but Rodney just raised his voice a little, and continued unabated. John didn’t quite catch the rest of what Rodney was saying, because he was pushing towards the stage himself.
He didn’t care that it wasn’t protocol, or that they weren’t alone. John kissed Rodney, right in view of the millions of people watching. “I may have lost the sky, but I gained the world. I was alone up there, thought I deserved to be. Rodney, I wouldn’t give this up to get it back. I wouldn’t give you up.”
“Well, good,” Rodney said, finally allowing the flustered model tasked with the job of herding all the participants in the right direction to edge them off the stage.” Because I’d hate to recast you.”
“Eh, one-eyed former pilots turned actors are a dime a dozen, I hear,” John said, the sound of laughter and applause buoying them both back down the aisle.
Poll
Author: hyperfocused ( interview)
Team: Peace
Prompt: Open Season
Pairings: McKay/Sheppard (plus various background canonical and fictional pairings)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to off-screen injury, occasional mention of fictionalized sexual and other crimes. Many soap opera tropes were harmed in the making of this story. 99.44% pure.
Author's Note: Thanks to Artist to be Named Later for the delightful graphic, and to Beta to be named belatedly for going above and beyond. This fic inspired by the true story of J.R Martinez (All My Children’s “Brot Monroe”)
Summary: Will hero pilot John Sheppard accept the offer to start a new life as soap opera hunk Shep Johnson? Will “Atlantis!” wunderkind Rodney McKay (Rod Ingram/Meredith Ingram/series co-writer) finally win his first Zeddy? Will they find love, on-screen or off? Tune in past the cut to find out.
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**
John had been back for two months now, the skin grafts largely healed -even if he couldn’t quite stand to look at the left side of his face anymore-but he still hadn’t decided what to do with his life now that he wouldn’t be flying.
Not flying. Not. Flying. He couldn’t get his mind around that. It was all he’d ever wanted to do. The reason he’d joined the Air Force in the first place - that, and pissing off his dad - and now it was all over. He’d always thought that the day he’d be grounded was the day they put him in the ground. Sure, he figured, someday he’d leave the Air Force, or more likely be made to leave. A black mark for asking too little, or telling too much. He was demonstrably bad at following rules that made no sense to him, but he did it when he had to, or at least he was discreet enough not to get caught.
But when the order came to turn back, to fuck the men over when he knew he could save them, well, fuck that, and his career, too. He did what he had to, and now Mitch and Dex were safe, and sounder than he was. They were back in the thick of things before John got his last bandages removed.
John wouldn’t be going back. It wasn’t just the whole ‘The Air Force doesn’t need a one-eyed pilot’ thing. He knew that, but he wouldn’t have done anything differently. If they’d wanted to, they could have come down hard on him, he disobeyed a direct order, after all. A dishonorable discharge, perhaps an assignment away from the action, but in a place no one in their right mind would want to take. He pictured himself freezing his nuts off in Antarctica. Actually, he thought he might have liked that. Cold and white, no reminders of the fire that kept him on edge more than the pain did, willing himself not to cry out from his nightmare like one of the kids in the children’s ward.
“You’re very lucky,” the doctors told him. He could have lost sight in both eyes, instead of just losing the one. ‘When you’ve healed, they can do wonderful things with prosthetics. You’ll hardly be able to tell it isn’t real.” Sure, except that his career as a pilot would be over.
“You should be grateful.” That was never said outright, but it was implied. There would be no official repercussions from his actions. The outcome for his men had been good, even if it wasn’t so great for him. “You’ll be paying for it enough, son,” his C.O had said. ‘You’re the very definition of brave and crazy.”
"I’d like to think that ‘brave’ is winning.”
"Well, it’s done now.” He didn’t answer John’s question. “We’ll make sure you get the best care available. You’ll be - good as new in no time at all, ready to move on to the next phase of your life, whatever that might be.”
John really didn’t want to think about the next phase of his life. He didn’t want to think at all. “Yes, sir,” he’d said, and pushed the delivery button for his painkillers.
He couldn’t stay in his own world for long, much as he wasn’t ready to face the real one. Stuck, or safe, it didn’t matter. Specialists came in, one by one, and sometimes in muttering, arguing groups to discuss his treatment options - none of them pleasant - and assess his recovery. Well-meaning do-gooders dropped off tins of cookies he couldn’t eat, or scarves that hurt his new healing skin too much to wear. They thanked him for his service, overshared their own troubles or passed on their unasked for political or religious philosophies. It was amazing how his usual pleasant nod and non-committal almost-smile was seen as incentive to settle in for the long haul, when all he wanted was for everyone to go away. He tried to be pleasant to them all, thank them for their concern, but not encourage them to stay or to return.
It wasn’t all bad, he tried to tell himself, especially when compared to some of the other patients. He could still see, and walk, and write without robotic attachments. Sometimes he got an hour to himself, when the pain was waning and he wasn’t too doped up to think. Once in a while there was even a visitor who didn’t make him cringe, or feel less than human.
The curly-haired blonde woman with the little girl was one of them. She had stopped at every bed in the ward (except for the ones off limits to visitors). John knew this, because half the staff was talking about it. She was some kind of a celebrity. A writer, maybe. He wasn’t sure. Or perhaps it was the girl. She got second looks as well. He’d put her into the annoying do-gooder category at first, when she showed up with her little girl, dismissing her too quickly because she turned out to be just the kind of company he needed.
Jeannie Miller was bright, and funny, and so was her daughter, Madison. She brought a magnetic chess set, and asked him if he played.
“I do, yes. I haven’t played in a while, though.”
“You’ll probably enjoy this more than the soap operas the nurses all have on at their stations,” she told him.
“Doesn’t matter. They’ll switch it back on anyway when they come back in. I think my brain is atrophying faster than my body.” He didn’t actually mind the TV so much, though he wished his options weren’t so limited. Watching the soaps kept him from brooding over his own situation for awhile, and besides, his mother had watched General Hospital when he was a kid. He’d spent a few days home sick with Schoolitis pretending to think it was stupid, but watching with her. He still couldn’t hear Jessie’s Girl, or watch reruns of McGyver without thinking of her, and that time. It was good. She’d been relatively healthy, not taking a turn for the worse until a year or so later. “I don’t mind the noise, so much. I don’t recognize this one, though.”
“I figured you didn’t.” She laughed, and the little girl giggled. He didn’t know why. ”It’s called ‘Atlantis!’” She set the board up so they could play.
They were well into the game, and Madison was playing with some kind of educational puzzle. (John could tell Jeannie was that kind of mother) when the questions started. Normally he would have been irritated, at the very least, but it was hard to be angry at a matter-of-fact 8 year old who just wanted to know “how your eye got that way”.
“Sorry.” Jeannie said, giving Madison a reproachful look. ‘Madison McKay Miller! Remember how we talked about tact and politeness the other day?”
“I wasn’t being rude! Uncle Mer says the best way to learn things is to ask questions.”
“That’s okay,” John stepped in before the waterworks started. Though Madison was a neat kid, and didn’t seem the type to burst into tears. “I don’t mind telling you a little bit about it.” He trusted Jeannie to know he wasn’t going to tell a grade-schooler the gory details.
“I flew a big helicopter to help rescue my friends who were in danger. There was a fire, but we all got out safely.” There was no reason to go into the whole horrible incident. He wished he could have forgotten about it.
“My mom says war is stupid and too many good people get hurt.” With her crossed arms, and indignant expression, John could almost picture her ten years older: a college student, protest sign in her hand.
"Madison!” Jeannie shushed her.
“I don’t much like it either,” John said. “But keeping good people safe is important.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” Madison considered, then her expression brightened. “Were you in a coma?”
“No. I just got burned a little, and pretty soon they’re going to give me a cool new pretend eye, but I’m going to be all right.”
“Is it going to be a robot eye?“
“I’m afraid not.” He might have liked that, especially when he was a kid.
“Oh.” She sounded oddly disappointed. “I like your eye patch, though. Pirates have patches. You look like you’d be a good pirate. And then you could get a parrot.” She beamed, and John could tell she was imagining the possibilities.
“I hadn’t thought of becoming a pirate. It would be nice to get my hands on some gold doubloons.” He’d happily skip the wooden leg, though.
“That’s okay. I don’t have any of those, either. At least I don’t think so. Mom makes me keep all my money in the bank, so I don’t get a swelled head and turn into a little Bratney Spears.”
John laughed. “’Bratney’, huh? Sounds like your mom is pretty wise. But I can tell you wouldn’t do that. You’re nice to be so concerned about me.”
“It’s sad when people are sick, or hurt. I know. I was in a coma, but I woke up. And then I was kidnapped, and I had leukemia. Everyone was sad. I got lots of letters.” Madison said this so cheerfully John knew it couldn’t all have been true.
“Wow, that’s quite a list of maladies. I hope you’re all right now.” John winked at Jeannie. Or blinked, really, sometimes he forgot it was all he could do.
“I’m going to have paralysis next, I think. Or maybe it’ll be my brother. They haven’t decided.” She moved aside the puzzle in favor of a box of markers and a sketch pad.
“They?” He looked down at the neglected chess board. It was his move, but he’d been a little distracted.
“Mom and Uncle Mer.” Madison studiously applied some blue-green marker, or was it green-blue? John couldn’t be sure, to her drawing, followed by what seemed a wild scribble of black.
“I suppose we should explain before you think I’m an awful parent,” Jeannie said, reaching down to sweep neglected puzzle pieces into their bag while John plotted his next move. “Madison has a role on ‘Atlantis’, the soap opera I write. It’s kind of a family thing. My brother stars in it and also has a hand in writing, and our parents created Search for the Stars, the show Atlantis spun off.” She made a quick counter-move to John’s last play.
“Oh! That’s why you were so amused when I didn’t recognize it. I’ve seen Search for the Stars, I think. That was the one where the main characters lived in a secret compound under a mountain?” John vaguely remembered a woman dressed like Cleopatra, or some Egyptian goddess, anyway, being carried around on a litter.
“Well, One Life to Live did it too, but ours was first. The compound was very loosely based on Cheyenne Mountain.”
“I’ve been there. There’s not nearly as much chintz and velvet.”
“Yeah, we try for a little more believability on Atlantis, despite how silly Madison’s list of cliffhangers must sound. We’re all really proud of her.” Jeannie leaned down and kissed Madison on the head. In a few years, John was sure, Madison would roll her eyes at her mother’s proud words. but now she just smiled and pretended to be engrossed in her work.
“Sounds like you have good reason. She's obviously smart, and talented.” Yep, still doodling away. John was pretty sure she was listening, though. Sometimes kids had this stealth thing going on. He certainly had, it was how he learned things nobody wanted to tell him.
“What do you say when someone pays you a compliment, Mad?”
“Thank you very much. That’s nice of you to say.” Madison looked up from her drawing.
“Unfortunately, you wouldn’t have seen Madison on-screen today, anyway. She’ll be on tomorrow. It’s a big day for her, but of course I can’t tell you why. You’ll just have to tune in. I promise it’s not as bad as you expect.”
“As long as no one has a weather controlling device I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Yeah, Mer hated that storyline, too. He was -is, really - a scientific genius. Could have had his pick of research positions. We’re all lucky he consented to go into the family business, as he’s mentioned a few more times than I’d like to count. When we do science-based storylines he’s a stickler for accuracy. Not so much with the medical stuff, mind you - he says that’s all voodoo anyway. But once there was an arc where Samantha Carter discovered a wormhole to another reality, and he insisted we get a real astrophysicist to look it over.”
“Seriously?” John was no expert, but he never imagined realism as especially important to soap opera plots.
Jeannie sighed. “Unfortunately, Rodney and Dr. Kavanaugh didn’t see eye to eye. He left in a huff when Rodney asked him if he’d found his degree in the bottom of a cereal box.”
“That’s dedication to craft, I guess.” Or something. Rodney kind of sounded like a pain in the ass, but the genius part hopefully made up for it. “Is that where all the evil twins come from? The alternate reality wormhole?”
"Funny. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. No, we had to scrap the wormhole for budgetary reasons. Also, the network wanted the show to skew younger and hotter, and most of the characters involved in that storyline were well into their thirties and forties.”
“And did that help the ratings?”
“Not really. We lost a lot of long time fans, who’d been around since Search for the Stars, and the young ones aren’t watching scripted dramas much anyway.”
“They’re all Twittering and posting sextapes on Youtube. At least that’s what I hear.”
“Mer loves Twitter. He’s kind of a twit about it.” Jeannie wrinkled her nose, looking more like Madison than John thought prudent to tell her. “It worked out for the best. The teen actors got a reality show spinoff, Stargate University. It’s doing pretty well. And the veteran actors are back with decent storylines, if I do say so myself.”
“It sounds like it. I’ll try to watch if they’re not poking and prodding me with barbed spikes tomorrow when it’s on. I make no promises, though.”
“Hopefully they’ll hold off on the barbed spikes and just concentrate on making you feel better.” She put the chess game away, kindly not rubbing it in that she’d beat him. He blamed the painkillers.
“Since I’m clearly the loser here, I must pay a forfeit to the Magnificent Millers.” John handed Madison the pudding cup he’d had left over from lunch. He wasn’t going it eat it anyway. They’d be bringing him dinner in a little while, and he didn’t know how he’d manage to get that down. He offered Jeannie some orange juice.
Madison looked inquiringly at her mother. “Can I, Mom?”
“May I.” Now, the eye-roll came out. “Yes, you may.”
Jeannie shook her head at John’s offer. “Shouldn’t you be eating? I mean I know it’s institutional food - nobody but my brother really likes it - but it’ll probably help you get your strength back.”
“Your brother likes hospital food?” Sure, John had had worse - years in the military ensured that - but not by choice.
“Hospital, airplane. I suspect he’d like prison food if that scare he had after the science fair had turned into anything… Once our father brought home a case of MREs. Made Mer happy for a month.”
“They don’t really poke you with spikes, do they?” Madison looked worried, and John felt bad for his gallows humor.
“No, sweetie. The doctors here are really nice.” Especially when it was time for more medication, which from the way his head was starting to throb ought to be right about now.
“Okay, honey, I think we should let Major Sheppard get some rest. Let’s finish packing up our stuff, and thank him for keeping us company.” She put the small chess set on the bed. “You know, you should keep this. I’m sure there’ll be other people who want to play with you. And maybe we can come back sometime?”
“Anytime,” John said, holding up the game in thanks. He was surprised to find he meant it. “But call me John.”
"Thank you, John. Oh, wait. Mom, hold on a minute.” She called out to Jeannie, who shushed her. Madison handed him the picture she had drawn, a serviceable image of himself as a pirate, on the deck of a ship. He could tell it was him by the spiky hair.
“That’s terrific, but don’t you want to keep it? You worked really hard on it.”
“That’s okay, that’s what presents are for. But maybe I can take a picture of you holding it? Then I can remember you and the drawing.”
He didn’t really like being photographed in the best of circumstances, and even less so now. But this was different. “Tell you what. Why don’t we get your mom to take a picture of us?”
“Cool.” Madison handed the camera over to her mother. “You push this button here. Make sure you get us both in frame.”
“I think I can figure it out.” Jeannie told her. To John she said, “give her a few years and she’ll be directing the show, not just directing her mother.”
They left with a promise from John that he really would love another visit later. For the first time in months, he was smiling as he drifted into sleep.
When Jeannie first got the idea of adding the V.A. hospital to the list of places she could take Madison to do charity work (apart from opportunities arranged by publicists, which didn’t count, because they often benefitted the actors more than the recipients of charity), she had no ulterior motive other than keeping her daughter grounded now that she’d had a taste of fame.
Jeannie loved how John had talked to Madison, treating her like she had something useful to say. She could tell Madison had liked it as well. When Jeannie heard from the staff later how John reassured other patients, she knew what she had to do. She could see the impact he had on people; his was a presence that compelled attention. It was something that couldn’t be taught, and if it could be captured on camera, couldn’t be ignored.
Jeannie didn’t know what plans John had for the future, or what his background was beyond the military. He was clearly intelligent, and could probably do almost anything he wanted. He had something special, something innate within him. She hoped he would allow her to develop it.
Of course Rodney was not so easily convinced.
They were sitting laptop to laptop, going over upcoming scripts in Googledocs when Jeannie brought up the idea. Rodney had no qualms in telling her what he thought about it.
“It’s completely ridiculous. We are not hiring some wounded flyboy to play our new P.I! The guy’s not even an actor. If he were, then he wouldn’t have gotten himself shot down in Iraq ---“ He gave Rod a few more brilliant lines.
“Afghanistan. And he saved the life of two of his men.” Rodney didn’t know what his sister was thinking. First she’d red-lined Rod’s ‘If it wasn’t for me, you’d all have electrocuted yourselves” speech to his company’s underlings, and now she wanted Rodney to work with this - testosterone posterboy?
“Whatever. Give him a medal. Oh, wait. He already has one, I bet. But it isn’t for acting. Acting bravely, maybe.“ He typed in the three lines he really cared about again. Eventually they’d meet in the middle. He’d learned early in their working relationship to demand much more than he expected, because when he ‘compromised’, he’d get what he really wanted.
“I don’t know why you’re so against this. Have you seen his picture?”
"I don’t have to. As I was saying, he wouldn’t have gotten himself injured because he wouldn’t have been in a war zone to begin with. He’d have been playing a soldier-hero in a movie, or instructing his fellow marines ---“
“He’s Air Force” Jeannie had this way of interrupting just when he was warming up. He didn’t know where she got it.
“Whatever. He’d be teaching them how to avoid Syphilis in some military training film.”
As usual, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She thrust Madison’s pink camera phone in his face. “Tell me, Mer. Tell me you don’t want this guy.”
Rodney looked. Not want this guy. He wouldn’t say that, exactly. John Sheppard was gorgeous. Tall and lanky, or maybe it was because he was next to Madison that made him look so lean, he had a shock of black hair that was too artfully disarrayed to look at all military. Full, pink lips practically invited an extreme close-up. Even the still garishly red scar that bisected his perfect cheekbone from eyebrow to cheek did nothing to truly mar it.
“He probably has the acting ability of a piece of plywood, or worse, Cameron Mathison.” Rodney could think of acting jobs where that wouldn’t matter, though, where John’s uniform - and later what he looked like out of it - would be the only concern. “Hell. Give him a walk-on.” They could always use another ‘hot guy at bar’ for the East Pier set, or a ‘well-heeled diner’ at Ninth Chevron.
“So we’ll audition him. If he can’t hack it, we can work around him. I think - I just get the feeling he’ll surprise you. There’s something magical about him. Like it’s in his genes.”
“Oh, is that how Arthur C. Clarke’s line went? Any non-actor’s performance good enough to seem like real talent is indistinguishable from magic?”
“Madison liked him.” Jeannie could give as good an eye-roll as he could. He just hoped she got the resultant headache as well.
“And when it’s time to cast the next Barbie DVD I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You know Kaleb and I don’t like her to play with those.” He thought about asking what she had against DVDs, but decided not to piss her off, just this once.
“I never understood that. You allow her to play the bastard love child of a reformed serial killer and her returned-from-the-grave Step-Uncle, but you won’t let her play with little plastic dolls with breasts?”
“She knows the show is just pretend. Besides, she doesn’t watch more than her scenes. Says it’s silly.” She erased another of Rodney’s lines. He was sure it was just for spite.
“No argument there. Nobody ever said soap writing was quantum physics.” Though from even his limited experience, most university departments had their own little dramas going on.
“Feeling nostalgic for your late, lamented science career?”
“I didn’t have to go into the family business. I could have a Nobel on my mantel, or at least a Nebula.“ Rodney could only imagine how far his intellect would have taken the field. Probably, though, some secret think-tank, or quasi-governmental organization would have scooped him up, and he’d have a NDA that forbid the Nobel committee from knowing about his genius until years after his - untimely, he was certain -- death.
“Instead of losing out for a Zeddy for the fourteenth year in a row. Who do you think’ll get it this year? David Canary? Ladon Radim?” She stung, but with an undercurrent of sympathy.
“’Zeddy’ is a ridiculous name for an award. If they have to shorten it, ZPM is a perfectly serviceable abbreviation for the Zest Players Medal.” Still, he punched up one of Meredith’s sections, adding some lines to the heartbreaking challenge of the month that he was going to enjoy playing, where Meredith would come close to death, but everyone would rally around him. Rodney liked filming hospital scenes like this, because he got to relax while people worked around him.
“Oh, please. We both know you’d dress it up in Madison’s doll clothes if it’d help you to finally win one.”
“It’s a travesty that I haven’t. And hiring a nobody like John Sheppard - attractive as he is - isn’t going to bring the show any more awards. I can only imagine what Michael Logan is going to say.”
“I thought you said he was a hack, that he was as good a guide to TV as you were to Lemon meringue pie.” Rodney was still proud of himself for that line.
“I might need an Epi-pen to read his column without gagging, but I will admit he has influence. The morons still listen to him, and some of them watch our show.”
“You know, referring to our audience as morons might be why ratings drop after every time you release a statement.” Writing done for the moment, Jeannie handed him a pile of fan mail to answer.
“That’s ridiculous. People know who I am. They expect me to be outspoken.” He skimmed through the letters, signing photo requests, and writng a short line or two in response to questions. It was true, they could probably pay someone to do this, but he found it kind of fun.
“I don’t know if ‘outspoken’ is the word most people would use. Honestly, Mer, I think this guy has it. Just let me send Elizabeth to try him out. If he passes muster with her, then will you meet him?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” He didn’t tell her she’d won as soon as he saw the photograph.
John had been home from the hospital for a few weeks, and was slowly getting used to seeing his new eye in the mirror. Other than the waning shock at his reflection, he was feeling more sanguine about his new life, even if he hadn’t decided what to do with it. He was damn sure not going to take the pity position his father had offered, even if his brother Dave thought it would bring on a family reunion and make everything hunky dory between them. He didn’t want to work for his father before he went into the military, and now that he was out of it, that hadn’t changed.
The letter arrived on Atlantis branded stationery. He recognized the snowflake on the water symbol from the show. He’d gotten caught up in the program at the hospital after Jeannie and Madison Miller’s visit.
It was from an Elizabeth Weir; he recognized her name from the credits. She was a producer, or casting director, he thought.
“Jeannie gave me your name, and told me how impressed she was with you and with the work you were doing - despite the severity of your own struggles - to help other wounded veterans and improve their situations and lives while recuperating. I’d like to meet with you to discuss ways the Atlantis family might assist in that endeavor, and how you might find a home in our Serial Grouping Corporation family.”
He wasn’t sure what it was she thought he had done. Sure, he’d tried to help out where he could. Sometimes the red tape in the hospital was near impossible to get through, and patients or their families would be stymied. John would go stir crazy stuck in his room, and after a while he couldn’t stand to be doped up if it fuzzed him out too much. It was easy enough to go talk to people, or more often than not to listen.
He sent off a quick email:
Ms. Weir,
Thank you for the kind words, and please send warm regards to Jeannie and Madison. I’m not sure how much help I can be, or what you have in mind, but if I can be of use, I’m happy to discuss it.
It’s nice to hear you’re all a family at the SGC, but judging from what I’ve seen on Atlantis!, it must be quite the dysfunctional one. (Sorry, it was a joke I couldn’t resist.)
You can reach me at 555-1357.
John Sheppard
He got a phone call the next morning. Elizabeth Weir herself, rather than an assistant, which surprised him. She sounded warm and competent on the phone, and he agreed to come to the studio that afternoon. He wasn’t busy, and didn’t see the point of pretending he was.
The studio was bustling when he arrived, but Jeannie and Madison stopped to say hello, and introduced him to Elizabeth. She was a slim, dark haired woman with a red t-shirt and a clipboard.
She was clearly busy and in demand by everyone, but she took the time to walk him around the set. He met a few of the actors and writers, the technical director - whose Czech accent was a little hard to decipher - and got a behind the scenes view of how things worked. It was fascinating. He was disappointed, however, not to meet Rodney McKay, Jeannie’s brother, who was quite compelling on-screen. John had Googled him, and he was quite compelling off screen, as well.
“So, now that you’ve met most of the whole crazy family, how would you feel about doing a screen test?”
“I think it would be a waste of your time. I’m not an actor.”
"That hasn’t stopped several of our players. You learn on the job. Besides, I think you’re wrong. Just from observing your interactions here I can see you’ve put on several different personas. That’s what acting is. It’s also a good way to get to know yourself, especially when what that means might have changed. I’d like to get to know the real John Sheppard. I think he’ll prove to be well worth knowing. If you come to work for me, I bet you’ll get to know him, too.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“Then audition for me and find out.”
“OK, I guess I can try it. You’re wasting your time, though.”
“Let me be the judge of that. I should tell you, I’m rarely wrong about people.” She handed him a script. “You’ll be playing the part of Jinx Ringer, a private investigator. You’re just about to tell Rod Ingram that his wife, Jennifer, has been flirting with Blade Sateda, who runs the martial arts chain Rod owns. I’ll be playing the part of Rod.”
“That’s one of Rodney McKay’s roles, right? The mogul scientist? Or is Rod the sweet, developmentally challenged one?”
“They’re both Rodney’s parts. Rod Ingram is the billionaire with the heart of Naquada, that’s the mineral he discovered. Meredith is his warm-hearted, artistic brother. And as he says, since he writes, too, he doesn’t have time to bother with readings.”
“So how do you tell if he can work with someone new?”
“He’s a genius, as he’ll be the first to tell you. He can work with anyone. But only the truly talented can hold their own against him.”
Atlantis rises golden in the sun
The climbing spires of her desires
Shine on everyone.
The love that you once thought a myth is real
Atlantis soothes your heart in waves
Atlantis helps you heal -- Theme for Atlantis
“So I hear you’ve seen John Sheppard’s screen test.” Jeannie sat down on the edge of Rodney’s desk, heedless of the important papers - okay, the two stacks of publicity shots he was trying to decide between signing for his fan club - and looking all too pleased. “Use this one.”
“Are you sure?” He nudged her out of the way.“You needn’t look so smug about it. It doesn’t suit you.”.
“Is that all you’re going to say?” Jeannie crossed her arms over her chest, just like she’d done when they were kids and she’d been right about some bit of trivia.
“Do I need to say anything else?” He got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. Was he running low? If he was going to have to get into the disgusting stuff that Chuck in craft services gave everyone else, heads were going to roll.
“You saw him read.” Jeannie gave him the look, and Rodney grudgingly poured her some, too.
“I admit, he’s not without talent.” Rodney knew that was an understatement. John had fallen into the part instantly, no awkwardness at all.
“Or charisma. Or looks.” That, too. If Sheppard had a bad angle, it hadn’t come across on-screen.
“Fine. He could keep up with his part of the script, didn’t mispronounce any words of more than two syllables, and didn’t seem to scare away any of the other actors. That doesn’t make him the second coming of Tony Geary.”
“Well, he hasn’t agreed to come work for us, either. Says he isn’t an actor.”
“What do you expect me to do about it?” It wasn’t his job to recruit. Most aspiring soap actors would beg to get to work with him. Some of them had. Rodney chose to ignore the ones who later begged to get out of it.
“Go talk to him. Convince him it’s worth his time.” Jeannie’s pleading hadn’t really changed since childhood, though at least she wasn’t asking for ice-cream anymore.
“Wouldn’t Chaya be better for that? You know, hotter?”
“I didn’t ask, but I get the impression her charms would be lost on him.”
Rodney filed that for later thought. “Oh, well. Lorne, then. Or Aiden. Or Ronon. Nobody can resist Ronon.”
She shook her head at all of them. “I just think an appeal to his intellect will work better than one to his libido.”
“Are you saying I’m not hot?”
“I’m your sister. I’d rather watch my brain out with bleach than give that any real thought.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about you and the English teacher.”
“You know my husband’s name is Kaleb.” Of course he knew. It was just fun to tease her. He really had nothing against his brother-in-law, but secretly thought that if he was ever replaced by a look-a-like, no one would notice. It was all he could do to only call him ‘Darrin’ in his head.
"Whatever. Anyway, I’ll go talk to the flyboy.”
“Well, ex flyboy. And try not to call him that. From what I understand flying was the love of his life.”
Sheppard was sitting on one of the low slung leather sofas when Rodney found him, arm stretched along the back, and long legs stretched out. He looked like every twenty year old auditioning for a part as a poolboy, except Rodney could tell he really didn’t care. It wasn’t practiced nonchalance. And looking closer, Rodney could see signs of the lived-in face and body John possessed. It was true, the scar was the first thing one would notice. It only made him hotter, and the grey at the temples and laugh lines made him look more real.
“I’m Rodney McKay. You must be John Sheppard, the hero pilot.”
“You’ve got the name right. Don’t know about the hero part.”
“My sister seems to think you’re midway between Superman and Jesus. Only she’s an agnostic geek, like I am, so probably she’d prefer Superman. Personally I’m more of a Batman fan.”
“I’m more of a Marvel guy, myself.” Yeah, marvel did seem to describe him.
“Cyclops? Sorry. That was awful of me.”
“No, that’s okay.” He laughed, a braying sound that made him seem even more human, which Rodney kind of liked. “Everyone talks around it. I’d heard you were kind of an asshole, anyway.”
“If by asshole you mean someone who speaks his mind, and rarely regrets his bluntness, then yes, I guess I am.”
“Cool.” John grinned like he meant it.
“So Elizabeth tells me you turned down her offer of a role on the show,”
“It was a kind gesture, but I’m not an actor, and I’m not some kid fan who would get a thrill out of it.”
“Elizabeth doesn’t do kind gestures. If she wanted you to read, and said she liked what you did, it’s because she thought there was a place for you here.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve never had the desire to act, don’t know how I’d be memorizing lines.”
“What’s your favorite movie?”
“Top Gun. Why?”
It seemed Jeannie had been right. The gayest air force movie ever.“I should have guessed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, no reason.” Rodney had never been a good liar. But seeing how uncomfortable John was, and knowing his military background, Rodney gave him an out. “You’re a pilot. Daredevil type. Stands to reason.”
“It’s a good movie!”
“It’s a piece of crap. Even Val Kilmer doesn’t make its plot worth watching. Now, Real Genius? That’s a good popcorn movie. Or even Top Secret.”
“I always wanted a house full of Jiffy Pop. Top Secret’s good, too.”
Rodney tested him the best way he knew how. “Kent puts his name on his license plate.”
John hit it right back, the timing right, and everything. “My mom does the same thing to my underwear.”
“Your mom puts license plates in your underwear? How do you sit?” They both laughed.“See, you definitely don’t have an issue with remembering lines. I don’t think memorization is going to be a problem. Besides, there are ways to work around that.”
Rodney found himself really caring that John join the show. “Look, just try it. If you hate it we’ll say job well done. You’ve given it a go. At least you’ll know if it’s not for you. But I bet you won’t hate it.”
John scoffed. “Rodney, have you looked at me? I’m not exactly someone anyone would want to see on their HDTV?”
“You look like someone I’d like to see anywhere - sorry. You look great. The camera is going to love you. It loves me, and I’m not exactly an Adonis.”
“Not everyone wants an Adonis. Sometimes they want somebody who’s real.” If ‘real’ was what John wanted, then Rodney was glad he’d never gone for plastic surgery.
“What do you want, John? Do you want to try this?”
“It wasn’t awful. Reading, I mean. I didn’t expect it to be so challenging. It was kind of -“
“Fun?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll tell you a secret. We aren’t doing it for the big paychecks. Soap actors just don’t get them. It’s loads of memorization, crazy fans, and long hours.”
“You’re selling it so well.”
“But if you like it, you love it, and you wouldn’t want to be doing anything else in the world. Has anything been like that for you?”
“Flying.”
Rodney was sorry about John’s loss. He imagined John felt the way he had about piano for so many years.“Well, Atlantis is my sky. And I think it could be yours, at least for a while, if you let it. Believe me, learning a new part is almost as exhilarating as doing a barrel roll.”
“I’ll think about it. Only, they aren’t seriously going to name my character Jinx, are they? Wouldn’t that be borrowing trouble?”
“Almost assuredly not. Jinx Ringer is the name we always use for auditions. We don’t want to give it away when we’re recasting a role, and we try to use a name that fits the actor.”
“Good. I don’t feel like a Jinx. I imagine there are those who would call me exactly that, or worse, but it’s a stupid name. It’s weird enough that I’d be playing a one-eyed P.I.”
“And a war hero, too. Jeannie and Elizabeth want you to be something like your real self, so people will want to help your cause. They’d planned to have you do a few PSAs.” The ‘actor addresses the audience about the disease or issue of the season’ thing wasn’t really Rodney’s favorite part of the show, but he bet John could get a lot of people to commit to a cause.
“So I’m supposed to pretend to be myself? I think I’d rather be someone else entirely.”
“No, you wouldn’t. There’s a little bit of Rodney McKay in Rod and Meredith. Believe me, it helps.”
John considered all of it. A new and unexpected career possibility and Rodney’s interest. He wanted both, as long as one wasn’t connected to the other in some creepy casting couch sort of way. But that was silly. John was a banged up old pilot, not some dewy ingénue from the sticks. Against his better judgment - entirely because of Rodney McKay’s insistence, he suspected - John agreed to give the part a try. It probably wouldn’t be a long lasting role anyway, and if it somehow helped raise funds for veterans’ services, then terrific.
His character would be called Shep Johnson, just returned from Iraq (that was different), and taking a job as Atlantis’ newest P.I. His first client? The charismatic, brilliant Rod Ingram.
Rodney was right. Learning lines wasn’t that difficult, and despite Elizabeth’s insistence that he never did anything like that, Rodney took the time to read with him, going over their scenes to make them feel like more than clichés on paper. Turned out he had a knack for it, and besides, Shep was almost as laconic as John could be. Rodney, or Rod, on the other hand made up for it in spades. It was a testament to Rodney’s skills that he played the brother, Meredith, so differently, filling the space with his simple presence, rather than Rod’s brash bluster.
Most times, rehearsals turned into something more, especially when Rodney insisted they needed to rehearse and eat. His hypoglycemia was acting up. Hours long discussions ensued about everything from physics to football. On the one hand, Rodney was convinced the advancement of science had slowed because he’d given up his PhD work to go into the family business. On the other, though he could see the physics and mathematical properties of the game (and admitted he was more than a little turned on at the thought of John’s Mensa status) he thought football was a pointless way to get grown men to slap each other on the ass and grunt. “Why not just skip the middleman and go straight to the porn?”
“You’re an expert on porn, as well? What a renaissance man.”
“I’ve seen my share. And soap sex scenes are equally ridiculous. Unlikely situations bringing characters who hate each other together because they’re hot. The whole migrating sheet thing…”
“Migrating sheets?”
“You know, the couple are lying in bed together, and the sheet will cover the woman to her shoulders, the man just to his waist. And if she needs to get up, she’ll wrap the whole thing around herself, leaving him naked - only the camera won’t show him.”
“Too bad, you have an amazing ass.” He had an amazing everything. Rodney looked really good to him. Broad shouldered, solid, strong. Even the way his hands moved when he was trying to explain something to John - yeah.
“And no one’s going to see it but you, unless we move to HBO.”
“So no real nudity, and probably nothing like this.” John kissed Rodney with all the passion he’d been pretending to feel for the actresses they’d put him with.
Things were good between them, and the Atlantis crew was remarkably accepting. Possibly because happiness seemed to tone down Rodney’s Rodneyness just a little. Not too much, thank God. John liked all the traits that made Rodney who he was.
As John proved himself more than a charity case damaged pretty face, his part was expanded. He went from a recurring character who mostly responded to the main cast, and helped their plotlines, to someone with his own picture in the credits.
“We need to get you a real love interest, not just a hook up” Jeannie told him.
“Other than your brother?” John gave Rodney a conspiratorial smile, and bumped his knee under the table.
“Of course not. Rodney’s personal life isn’t up for public consumption. Besides, onscreen chemistry isn’t always connected to off-screen. More often than not, it’s the opposite. And Rod’s between wives right now.” Negotiations were still under way to bring back Samantha Carter, who was currently playing a librarian on another show, but seemed amenable to returning to her breakout role. “As much as I’d love to give Rod the happiness he probably doesn’t deserve, thereby sparing the good people of Atlantis more of his machinations, the network would balk if we went there.”
Over the next few months, Shep’s role was expanded greatly. He was given a new partner, Teyla Emmagen. She was smart and beautiful (and Rebecca Treller, who played her was gifted with incredible insight and talent) but despite Shep’s flirtation with her, even the scripted romance seemed flat and unbelievable.
Then they went another direction, a thief named Larrin, who he caught trying to steal from Rod, then let go when she revealed her motive. Rod was her long lost father, who had abandoned her as a baby. “Shep” had a few days disgust with his employer, someone he’d grown to admire. The real truth came out. Larrin’s father was Rod’s biggest rival, the ruthless Augustus Kolya (played by the scenery chewing Gene Aighe). That scenario didn’t ring all that true with John, who didn’t tend to date people who tied him up (outside the bedroom) but he wasn’t a writer, so what did he know? It didn’t ring true with the audience, either, except for the emotional scene in which the betrayed Shep confronted Rod in his laboratory, yelling and shoving Rod against the wall of supercomputers for making him believe in him when clearly it hadn’t been earned. Rod played it like he was the one who had been betrayed at first, but then broke down later and apologized.
Soaps in Depth’s Todd Michaels said, “Forget the fizzled romance of Rod and his on again off again wife Samantha, or even ingénue Katie Brown. Fast forward through the “I’m hot but they don’t know what to do with me” underused exoticism of Ronon Dex as the two dimensional Blade Sateda. True chemistry exploded on screen today with the impassioned exchanges between Shep Johnson and Rod Ingram. No one who witnessed the ‘elevator apology’ will be able to forget it. In future years, I feel sure it will be as warmly remembered as Karen Wolek’s courtroom confession, Luke and Laura’s wedding, or even Daniel Jackson’s original death. This is a relationship that should not be nipped in the bud.
Unfortunately, daytime TV is all too often stuck in the 1950s soap selling mindset of its origins, so it’s unlikely to ever happen.”
The message boards ate this up, of course. Debates rang out about whether a romance was possible.
“Rod Ingram has been married seven times, to 3 different women. He has a thing for busty blondes, not male brunettes. Of course he’s not gay.”
“7 failed marriages. Perhaps that’s a sign he’s been looking in the wrong place all along. And there’s no such thing as a male ‘brunette’.”
“Rod never apologizes. He wrongfully accused Sam of being a reincarnated Egyptian temptress out to steal his gold, and sealed her in a pyramid as punishment. He erased the research records of one of his rival labs. That he was remorseful this time, and clearly upset at hurting Shep’s feelings means something. Meredith is the one with heart. Rod Ingram never notices anyone has feelings.”
Rodney claimed never to read them, but John was sure this wasn’t true. And he was pretty sure that user NoLemon31415 who mainly posted scathing responses to what admittedly were asinine posts was Rodney himself, giving in to the irresistible need to have the last word. “No Lemon Pie” was just the sort of pun Rodney would make. The show had used his citrus allergies as a plot point more than once, most recently when he and Meredith had switched places to fend off Kolya. Meredith only had lemon allergies, Rod was allergic to all forms of citrus. When Kolya slipped a few drops of orange juice into the energy drink “Rod” was drinking the truth came out. True to his brother, Meredith had agreed to switch places. Rodney did an amazing job playing Meredith-as-Rod, and the consensus was that this, along with their work together would be what finally got Rodney his Zeddy.
Nominations were announced today for the 65th annual Zest Players Medals, awarded to the best daytime dramas. As expected, Atlantis’s Rodney McKay received his fourteenth nomination for his portrayal of Rod and Meredith Ingram. He also, along with his sister Jeannie Miller, received a nod for writing. Others nominated were Golden Gate’s Jack O’Neill, All My Children’s David Canary, and The Far Escape’s John Crichton - Vala Mal Doran, Soapworld.
“I’m sorry you got overlooked, I thought for sure you’d be a lock for best new male.” Jeannie told John when she and Kaleb and Madison and he and Rodney were having dinner the night after the nominations went out.
“Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t be the first time.” John hadn’t expected notice. He’d never imagined this as a career, and was happy enough for Rodney not to give a crap about himself. ”Besides, we all know this is Rodney’s year.”
“And that has everything to do with you, and you know it.” Jeannie insisted.
“Wait just a minute. Now you’re saying I haven’t even earned the nomination?” Rodney groused. “Much less the win, which if the imbeciles voting are anything like they usually are, will again elude me…”
“Mer, don’t be an ass. You know John has raised your already excellent game. You’re terrific together.”
“No argument there. John knows I think he’s terrific.” Rodney turned to smile at him, and blushed a little, and Madison giggled.
“Are you going to kiss? How come you don’t kiss in front of me, or make out like people do on the show?”
“This isn’t TV. We’ll probably do lots of kissing, and other stuff, later. Not that it’s any of your business, little girl.”
That was it, exactly. John squeezed Rodney’s knee under the table. He knew that Madison was all too curious, as well as being bright for her age. She also had the beginnings of the McKay lack of an inner censor. John realized he was very private about their relationship, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t ashamed, or in denial, but his natural reticence, and years in the military made him keep things quiet.
“I know that, silly. I meant, now.”
Rodney and John each kissed her cheek. “There, how’s that?” Madison giggled some more.
“It’s nice to see you so cheerful,” Kaleb told her. “She’s been down ever since Jinto Halling’s role was recast.”
“He got WRAITHed,” Madison said.
“What?”
Wee Rapidly Aged Into Teen Hottie”, Jeannie shrugged. ”Sorry. I didn’t coin the phrase.”
“It’s one of those stupid Soap Opera terms.” Rodney said.
“Jinto played Madison’s step brother. He hasn’t been on much since you joined the show, so I’m not surprised you don’t know him. He’s a good kid, if maybe not so talented. Mad has a crush on him -“
“I do not!”
“Unfortunately,” Jeannie went on, “It was decided that the character wasn’t working out as a 12 year old, and when he returns to the show he’ll be played by a nineteen year old actor.”
“That’s too bad. But he’s your friend, right? Even if you’re not working together, you can still hang out.” It was a tough break for a little kid. John had hated it every time he’d moved. It wasn’t too long before he started pretending he preferred his own company anyway.
“Of course they can. Come on, everyone, lets have some celebratory/commiseration cake. You can decide which it is when you eat it.”
“As long as it’s real chocolate and not some tofu carob crap, because my taste buds will not be celebrating that,” Rodney said.
Because it was expected that they each have an attractive woman on their arm, preferably someone related to the show, Rodney brought Laura Cadman, who played one of Shep’s former military coworkers, and was very nice, if a little too interested in the intimate details of Rodney’s life. She was always trying to get him to go running with her, and if John couldn’t do it - which he couldn’t, at least without promises of future blowjobs - nobody Rodney wasn’t sleeping with could, either. John’s date was Elizabeth Weir, who had turned into a good friend. She was fresh off a break up with her long time boyfriend, Simon, and he hoped she would have a good time. He figured the more awards her show won, the better she would feel. Really, though, they were one big group. Rodney pressed against him on his other side (leaning in to whisper snarky assessments of the other nominees and their guests).
“Don’t laugh, John. Everyone will hear, and wonder where Shrek is.”
“Then don’t be funny!”
“Shh!”
“Sorry, Elizabeth,” John said. Rodney didn’t look the least bit remorseful.
Awards ceremonies really weren’t John’s thing. He liked his worn in boots and jeans more than dress shoes that pinched and itchy tuxedos. But at least here he needn’t stand ramrod straight, or, God forbid, wonder which of these bright young men or women would be winning their medal posthumously.
He applauded through what seemed like hundreds of categories, more enthusiastically when it was someone from Atlantis who had won. But it was Rodney’s award he, and everyone else, anticipated most. Was it finally his turn? The screen ran a compilation of Rodney’s best moments, both as Rod and Meredith, and John was impressed all over again. “You’re amazing, no matter what”, he leaned in and whispered to him.
Rodney’s retort said “And this is news, why?” but the lopsided smile that accompanied it showed his real feelings.
“…and for Leading Actor, the ZPM goes to - Wow, it’s about time! - Rodney McKay!”
John, and the whole audience, it seemed, clapped and hooted, even Rodney’s rival nominees. He hugged Rodney, and watched as he maneuvered past the well wishers up onto the stage to accept.
“I always wanted one of these!” Rodney held up the circular medal. “Each winner of the ZPM is allotted three minutes to make their speech. I figured since the voters were all obviously morons until tonight -“ most of the audience laughed, and a few gasped. “No, seriously, I didn’t write a speech. I don’t need to plan ahead to say what I want to say, but also because I didn’t see a point. My time was better spent working on the show, or playing chess, or doing pretty much anything but not getting a Zeddy. I suppose I should pay attention to the time now, and bring out my list of people to thank. That is, if I had a list. Though there are certainly hundreds of people who make my work on Atlantis what it is, and make working with them a pleasure I never anticipated, I’m only going to name one of them now. John Sheppard is brave, and brilliant, and the real person you all should thank if you liked my work recently. He’d probably sell himself short - he’s not an actor, he says-but that isn’t true. He’s had some hardships, given up the career her was meant for-his wings were clipped too soon -- but I hope it helps him to know that as much as he thinks he was made for the air, he was equally made for the airwaves. Having said that, I would give up this award if it meant he could get back what he lost.” The ‘time’s up’ music started playing, but Rodney just raised his voice a little, and continued unabated. John didn’t quite catch the rest of what Rodney was saying, because he was pushing towards the stage himself.
He didn’t care that it wasn’t protocol, or that they weren’t alone. John kissed Rodney, right in view of the millions of people watching. “I may have lost the sky, but I gained the world. I was alone up there, thought I deserved to be. Rodney, I wouldn’t give this up to get it back. I wouldn’t give you up.”
“Well, good,” Rodney said, finally allowing the flustered model tasked with the job of herding all the participants in the right direction to edge them off the stage.” Because I’d hate to recast you.”
“Eh, one-eyed former pilots turned actors are a dime a dozen, I hear,” John said, the sound of laughter and applause buoying them both back down the aisle.
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