SGA/DLM: Dead Like Them #4 (NC-17), McKay/Sheppard.
In some ways he thought he might be more alive now than he had been then.
-- Co-written with the lovely and talented forcryinoutloud.
First part: Dead Like Them. Second part: Dead Man Walking. Third part: Ghost Story One | Two
Death Scenes
Opening his eyes, Rodney stretched, his body still relaxed from sleep and the previous night's activities. He turned with a smile, eyes still closed, reaching out behind him for John and was instead met with empty air. Sitting up quickly he scanned his room, John was nowhere to be found, Thales curled up asleep in the spot John had been.
If he was being honest with himself, it wasn't the first time he'd slept with someone only to wake up the next morning and have them be gone but he was so sure that John was different. He was so sure that what they had was something more than just sex. Swallowing past the tightness in his throat, Rodney berated himself for being so stupid as to believe someone like John could ever fall for someone like him.
Pushing himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he reached for his clothes. When he was dressed, Rodney considered what he knew of John from the past months living with him, considered what John had said the night before. It didn't make sense that John would just leave, and though Rodney breathed easy about that, it left only one possible explanation. It was currently 5 a.m. and Rodney knew that John went jogging in the morning, but after last night he couldn't see John taking off for a run without at least leaving a note, couldn't imagine him going anywhere without leaving a note... except for one place.
Swearing under his breath, Rodney yanked on his shoes, grabbing his jacket and keys and hurrying towards the door. There was only one place John could be--Kolya.
Slamming the front door to the apartment building Rodney took the stairs two at a time, all the while cursing John for being so damn reckless and swearing on everything he could think of that if Kolya even so much as breathed on John, he'd be sorry.
Just before his foot hit the last step he heard an amused drawl, "Mornin' sunshine."
Rodney's head whipped around to see John standing on the sidewalk, two cups of coffee and a bag of doughnuts in his hands. "Oh thank god," Rodney sighed, sinking to sit on the front steps. "I thought you'd gone off with Kolya again."
John grinned, jostling everything in his hands until he held out a cup of coffee for Rodney. "Oh no, that's not for a couple days."
"What!?" Rodney was on his feet again, glaring at John. "Are you out of your mind?"
John leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Rodney's mouth. "I'm going to tell Kolya where he can shove his job."
Rodney followed John into the apartment, suddenly feeling much more relaxed. "Couldn't you just do it over the phone?"
"Trust me," John said, throwing a smile over his shoulder, "a phone call wouldn't cut it."
"You should take Ronon with you," Rodney said, closing the door behind them. "I know you don't like guns, John, but you shouldn't go alone. It's not safe."
Tossing the bag of doughnuts onto the couch and taking Rodney's coffee from him, placing both cups on the table by the door, John pulled Rodney closer. Wrapping a hand behind Rodney's head, John pressed up against him, mouths together in a heated kiss. Pulling back, John smirked. "I could really use a shower--wanna join me?"
Rodney's eyes glazed, "You're trying to distract me."
"Is it working?" John grinned, letting his hand slip under Rodney's shirt.
Shoving John away from him, Rodney stripped out of his clothes, stumbling towards the bathroom. "Yes--but only for a little while so you better take advantage of it."
John laughed, following Rodney, his own clothes discarded haphazardly on the floor. "Oh I have every intention of doing just that."
----
Daniel woke up slumped on Jack's couch, groaning when he stretched, looking around the room for Jack. Smelling coffee coming from the kitchen he smiled and stood, getting the last kinks out before stumbling towards much needed caffeine. The kitchen was empty when he walked in and he frowned. Beside the coffee maker was another post-it and he shook his head thinking Jack must have a closet full of the little yellow notes for how much he wasted them on non-reaper business. Picking up the piece of paper he scowled.
"God dammit, Jack."
----
Ronon was already halfway through his breakfast when Daniel got there, and surprise both John and Rodney were late. He slid into the booth, ordering another coffee, his head pounding. Daniel had managed to get Jack to open up a little, he told him that he'd been married to Sara; that they'd had a son Charlie, but Jack wouldn't tell him what happened to either of them. In the end they'd ordered pizza and Daniel fell asleep in the middle of a hockey game.
Daniel looked at Ronon, shaking his head as the man shoveled the rest of his eggs into his mouth. "Where are John and Rodney?"
"Not here yet," Ronon rumbled back and Daniel just managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. "Where's Jack?"
Daniel bit his lip, the post-it in his pocket feeling like it weighed a ton, but feather light compared to the day planner heavy and ominous beside him in the booth. "Jack's not going to be around for a few days."
Ronon raised his head at that, eyes assessing Daniel before shrugging and returning to his breakfast. "That's it? You're not going to ask where he went?"
"None of my business," Ronon grunted, finishing off his coffee. "You handing out the assignments while he's gone?"
Daniel nodded absently, pulling the day planner onto the table and sticking a post-it to the table in front of Ronon. Ronon picked it up, shoving it in his pocket before sliding out of the booth and leaving without another word.
Twenty minutes later John and Rodney hurried in, both of them looking a little guilty and Daniel shook his head with a grin thinking it was about time. "Where's Jack?" Rodney asked sliding into the seat Ronon had vacated when he'd left, grabbing the menu and snapping his fingers at Janet, demanding a large black coffee. Janet was, by now, used to Rodney and just rolled her eyes as she finished taking the couple in the corners order. On the way towards the kitchen she smacked Rodney in the back of the head and he scowled but didn't say anything, John snickering beside him.
"He's got some…stuff to take care of for a few days."
"Stuff-Jack has stuff?" Rodney frowned, narrowing his eyes at Daniel. "What kind of stuff?"
"The personal kind," Daniel said with impatience, pinching the bridge of his nose, and flipping through the day planner, slapping two post-it notes in front of Rodney and John.
"And he left you in charge?" John asked, shocked because he'd spent over twenty years with Daniel and Jack and Ronon and there was no way that Jack would entrust Daniel, Daniel who had tried to save his first reap, who spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating what was on the other side of those pretty lights, who barely remembers to eat and sleep, in charge of them-him. John narrowed his eyes.
Daniel rolled his. "Look, I'm just handing out your assignments for a few days; I'm not vying for Jack's job."
"When is he coming back?" Rodney asked, taking a gulp of the coffee Janet placed in front of him.
"Few days," Daniel shrugged. "He didn't really tell me, left a post-it."
Rodney snorted and John smiled at Janet when she brought his breakfast, ignoring the glare Rodney sent his way.
"So, you two finally gave in to all that sexual tension, huh?" Daniel asked innocently, grinning when Rodney spit coffee all over his breakfast, and John choked on the sausage he was chewing.
----
Ronon pushed his way into the dim bar, eyes scouring the place for a familiar face. He stalked towards a table at the back, sliding into it and grunting at the man across from him. The man smiled a sickly sweet smile. "Good to see you again, Ronon."
"You know why I'm here," Ronon growled.
The man nodded, sliding an envelope across the table towards him. "She's pretty."
Picking up the envelope, Ronon threw down one of his own, stood and walked away without a second glance. When he was outside, around the corner, he opened the envelope, fingers tracing the smiling face of a beautiful young woman, a face he hadn't seen in a long time. The slip of paper in the envelope gave a location and Ronon nodded to himself, putting both in the inside pocket of his trench coat before slipping into the streams of people crowding the streets.
----
Rodney and John went their separate ways after breakfast; Rodney to work and John to wherever he was going. Rodney tried not to worry, tried not to think about Kolya or what John quitting might entail. Instead he concentrated on getting some work done before his reap after lunch. He'd have to make up another excuse to Felger about why he was leaving early, but that wouldn't be hard. He'd gotten pretty good at lying the last few months.
He rolled his eyes at the newest stack of papers on his desk, wishing he could tell Radek to do his own god-damned paperwork. Rodney missed working at Atlantis Labs, where all he had to concentrate on were his projects. Missed his friends too, even though he'd never really had that many.
John and Jack had tried to tell him to leave his old life behind but every so often Rodney snuck back, hid in shadows and alleyways, just for a glimpse at the people he used to call friends, a glimpse of the life he'd been happy with, a life he still missed.
-----
It was the kind of place Jack always knew he would never end up; would have had to be around too long to get here, and as it was, he'd gotten more years than he'd ever bargained for.
Reaping a place like this would be damn easy. Almost everyone had given up already, and those that hadn't would in not too long. It was a long-term care hospital, set aside from the main asylum, and Jack could feel if not see the spirits as though they were still walking the halls.
It was giving him the creeps, and he wasn't easily spooked.
"You sure you want to do this, Jack?" Kowalski asked.
Jack knew the answer, it was no, easy, but it had taken him over eighty years to get this far, and he couldn't turn back now, not with time running out. Jack may have forever now, but not everyone on Earth did.
"Yeah, Kowalski," he said. "Sure."
"Room 86 then. And, Jack--" Kowalski broke off and broke eye contact, and Jack knew it was going to be bad. "Well, you know what to expect."
He didn't have a clue. The last time he'd seen his son, he'd been seven years old, and he'd been holding a gun.
It was a little hard for Jack to move past that image in his head.
-----
Any other day he would have had that drawer locked tight. He wondered sometimes how many days Charlie had tried to open it only to find it wouldn't budge, or if that was the very first time, in some cruel twist of fate.
He'd just kissed Sara, and turned to go into the house. He'd been calling Charlie's name, smiling the way he never had much reason to before them.
He didn’t remember much past opening the door. Just that weird little prick in his chest as his body crashed to the ground, and Charlie's anguished cries.
All he remembered thinking was better it him, than Charlie.
-----
Charlie never had kids of his own, Kowalski told him. He was in and out of psychiatric hospitals since age nine, when people started to give up on him. Sara never did, but even she couldn't live forever.
Jack had kind of hoped Charlie would just forget it, block it out, move on. Kid should of known he'd never blame him.
He was sitting at the window when Jack walked in, and he didn't look anything like the same. Not even his eyes. They were wide and kind of shell-shocked, like they were stuck in that same moment. His hair was white completely and he looked small, much too small. Not much bigger than he remembered him.
"Charlie," he whispered.
Charlie didn't turn around. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he said. He'd been saying the same thing for last few years now. Kowalski said he almost never stopped.
Jack went to the window and tried to see what Charlie saw. "It wasn't your fault," he said. "You were just a kid." His voice almost breaks, but it doesn't matter. Charlie can't hear him anyway.
Kowalski finally took his soul at quarter to twelve, and the room lit up with a baseball diamond across the floor.
Jack wasn't like Daniel. He usually didn't think or care about what lay on the other side, but today he knew it was somewhere better. It had to be.
-----
Her grave was untouched. All the people that had known her had been dead for years.
Ronon was never much for being sentimental, but whatever capacity for feeling he was missing he'd only lost when he lost her. It had kind of felt like losing his entire world.
The undead weren't supposed to visit people from their lives, but Ronon had no use for rules, and she couldn't be interfered with anyway. Can't interfere with the dead, even John would have to admit to that.
Teyla Emmagan was etched in the stone. Loving daughter, it said. No mention of how she held his heart, no mention of the way she was loved by him. He dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against her name.
He took three long, deep breaths, recited the prayer she taught him, the only one he knew, and placed a small rock atop the gravestone before leaving.
Just so people will know that she was still missed.
-----
Rodney ate his lunch outside of Atlantis Labs, on the same bench he'd sat on a hundred times before. Radek walked out the doors at twelve o'clock. His hair was its usual mess and he had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his old, familiar blue windbreaker.
He sat down right beside him. Rodney held his breath, waiting for him to turn, to recognize him. Of course, he didn't; just sat there and mumbled to himself, scribbling equations in a spiral notebook.
Rodney fought the urge to correct his work, or strike up the conversation they left off the day he died. He wanted to tell Radek he was a good friend, one of his only ones, and that he was sorry it had taken his own funeral for him to realize it.
He could imagine the conversation in his head. It would go something like this:
"Radek, hi. I know this is going to sound weird, but I'm Rodney. I'm undead. I take souls now and work for Felger."
Radek would jump to his feet. "You are crazy man, don't kid about my good friend."
Rodney would then say something brilliant that only he would know, and Radek would hug him and start talking a mile a minute, and tell him to come back to work, that there were problems that couldn't be solved without him.
Rodney opened his mouth, ready to speak, but Radek was already on his feet, oblivious, and heading back inside.
Rodney rested his head in his hands and reminded himself that he was dead. Dead. Undead. Whichever. It didn't make much of a difference, even if the science minded Radek could believe him and welcome him back, Jack would put a stop to it.
And even if he could get it back, have it all again, he'd just go back to being that oblivious man that yelled at everyone and couldn't see past his own arrogance. He'd go back to being that man that never even noticed he had friends, that couldn't do anything but solve equations--that man that didn't have John.
In some ways he thought he might be more alive now than he had been then.
-----
Daniel had barely been thirty when it happened. He met a man named Jack on his way to the unveiling--strange guy with a baseball cap and a curious smile, and his friend, a young kid with a bounce in his step and whose touch was like an electric shock.
Daniel's stomach had lurched the way it always did that last inch of an elevator ride, but it had passed just as quickly as Jack and his friend could disappear.
He hadn't thought that much of it at the time, he had other things on his mind. He was standing in the center of the exhibit, against Catherine's advice.
One minute he'd been directing the placement of the coverstone, and the next everyone was screaming and he was dead.
Daniel had taken it better than most. The whole of his response had been a quiet 'huh,' and then a thirty-minute lecture on the various theories of the afterlife and their relevance when faced with the truth.
He hadn't left anyone behind. His family had died before him and he had acquaintances, not friends. His work was his life, and death didn't really interfere with that. He could still read, research, wander the museum.
Since his death, he'd learned to speak seven more languages.
Jack thought it was a waste of time, but the way Daniel saw it, that was something they all had more than enough of now. Why not waste it?
He was an adaptive person, always had been. Had to be for his job. He had gone all over the world and while he worked on digs, he became a part of the culture that surrounded the site.
That was just something Daniel was good at.
The problem was, Daniel wasn't just dead, he now had obligations. He spent his lifetime avoiding getting tied down to any one place. Daniel cared about everyone but no one person more than the rest, because gaining particular attachments...well, Daniel knew how that went. One way or another, you lost them.
He supposed that being undead had made him careless. Jack, John, Ronon, even Rodney now, were people he cared about, people he was concerned with, and they all seemed to be going through their own personal crisis.
And none of them wanted any help.
Daniel sighed and leaned against Jack's truck. He was still inside. It hadn't been hard to figure out where he was going, and it had been even easier to figure out what for. Charlie would be about eighty-eight now, and Jack would have been the first person to see him on the list.
The others would figure things out, Daniel was sure, but Jack--Jack was getting his help, whether he wanted it or not.
-----
Rodney found Thales in John's room when he finally made it home. The sheets were still a mess, but he was too tired to wash them, or even head to his own room. He collapsed onto the bed and while Thales protested at the intrusion, he quickly forgave him, and curled up beside his head.
Rodney glanced towards the night table, and that picture of John. He wrapped his fingers around the silver chain of his dog tags and held them up to the light. He was so hard to imagine, the John in that picture, with his cocky grin and that gun strapped on his thigh.
Rodney hadn't changed much since he died. He thought that John seemed like he had morphed into someone else entirely; but that was a lot of guesswork from one single picture, and it wasn't like John talked at length about his life before.
Rodney knew that pictures could lie just as well as people, and for all he knew, John hadn't changed at all.
He sat up when he heard the door, and John wandered in a few minutes later. He leaned against the doorjamb with a grin. "Hey."
Rodney smiled. "Hey. I was just looking at these." He placed the dog tags gently back where he found them, and John's eyes tracked their every move.
"Yeah. It's sentimental, I know," he said, and looked down at the carpet. "That's not why I keep them, though. It's not to remember good times. It's to remember something else."
"John--" Rodney started.
"It's okay, Rodney," John interrupted. "It's fine, really. I'm fine. It was a long time ago."
Rodney took a deep breath. John didn't move any closer. "You know, I've been thinking, and it said they never found you--your body," he said. "On that site."
John's eyes raised to latch onto the wall. "They didn't."
"Then how did you get these?" Rodney asked, reaching out and touching the dog tags again.
"They're called dog tags, Rodney," John said. "We military guys all get them."
"You know that isn’t what I mean, John," Rodney said. "I want to know how you got them back."
-----
John spent the Christmas of '66 in Vietnam.
Jack gave him two days, not more, but he took three; spent one of them in the jungle, digging holes in the wet ground. He put Mitch in first, ripped the dog tags from his neck and reached out to close his eyes; there was nothing to be done about the bullet hole between them.
He laid Dex down next, trying not to gag as he pulled the pieces into the shallow grave. He found the dog tags nearby, stained with blood, Dex's blood, Mitch's, his own, and stuffed them in his pocket beside the other pair. John didn't bother marking the graves, because they would never be found, never visited again, even by him.
His own body was stiff and decaying nearby, still tightly gripping the gun he'd used to kill Mitch. John wrapped his fingers around the silver chain of his dog tags, brushing dead skin, and pulled them free.
Then he kicked the empty pistol clear, and lit a match so he could burn the rest.
-----
Rodney thought for a minute he'd pushed to far again, asked too much, but John just smiled disarmingly and stepped into the room. "I got them off a friend," he said, because the truth was always easiest to tell, and if he used it right, he wouldn't give anyway away at all.
John was really very good at that.
-----
Ronon taped her picture on the wall above his bed. His apartment didn't really have a place to set a frame, and he couldn't be bothered to steal one anyway. He felt far enough from her as it was, no need to set her behind a piece of glass.
It was funny because he was so relieved when he died. So ready. He never feared it, not once, not even when he still had her. It wasn't so much faith in an afterlife that gave him his indifferent view of death as his appreciation of the time he'd had.
People could say a lot about Ronon, but they could never say he hadn't lived.
He didn't really feel as though he'd died, though. Limbo. That's what they called it. Stuck between the before and the after with no way back to either one.
He wondered sometimes, what she saw, just before. He thought he should probably know what would have tempted her, what would have been shining in that strange blue light, but he doesn't.
He doesn't even know what his would be.
Not that it mattered all that much. Ronon wasn’t sure he’d even get them.
He half-suspected he might just disappear.
-----
Rodney's newest reap took him to the mall, a place he avoided in life like the plague. "Why don't these people buy their shit online like a civilized person?" he muttered to himself, stomping through the crowd of overly enthusiastic shoppers.
He had told Felger that morning that his mother had died (which was true in a way-she had died, fifteen years before) and he needed the afternoon off to arrange the funeral as he was her only living relative. The idiot believed him and what was more he actually had given Rodney the next three days off. So here he was traipsing through the dregs of society in search of J. Winston and wondering what the hell he was going to do for the next three days.
John was supposed to meet Kolya in tomorrow night to tell him he quit and Rodney knew (whether John liked it or not) that he would be there-with Ronon as backup-just in case Kolya didn't take too kindly to John quitting on him. So that gave him one thing to do over the next couple of days at least-try and convince Ronon they needed to keep an eye on John and make sure Kolya didn't try and hurt him-Rodney could be very convincing when properly motivated. But first he had to find this goddamned idiot he was supposed to reap. Who the hell died in a mall?
"Woohoo!" Rodney heard screaming from somewhere above him. Squinting up to the second floor he shook his head. Of course he'd get stuck with another stoner, this one trying to skateboard down the railing of the fucking escalator. With a put upon sigh he got to the second floor just as the kid-who honestly wasn't a kid anymore, he had to be at least thirty, and definitely should have known better-was ready to perform his very last stunt (not that he knew it would be his last). "Hey, Dude, check this out," Stoner said to Rodney with a grin.
Rolling his eyes Rodney slapped the guy in the back of the head, feeling the familiar tingle whenever he reaped a soul. "You're an idiot and you're going to get yourself killed but by all means, dude," Rodney waved his hand magnanimously towards the escalator. "Have at it."
The mall obviously had shitty security as his reap not only had time to have a conversation, as…stimulating as it was, with Rodney but he had time to actually go ahead and get his ass killed by missing the railing of the escalator and doing a header off the second floor of the mall to land crumbled and broken on the floor below before security even showed up.
"Dude, that is so not cool."
Rodney snorted and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away from the scene before him. "Congratulations," Rodney snipped, "it's not often my reaps are quite so…" he threw his hands up in the air and turned to glare at the man hovering behind him. "What the hell were you thinking?" Rodney demanded.
"Oh wow," his stoner muttered, ignoring Rodney's question, eyes even more glazed than they were when he was alive. "Righteous!" Rodney turned and watched him running towards his lights-a skate park, of course (obviously whoever was in charge of the light show was anything but imaginative)-and just shook his head again before walking away. Proof positive that his stoner obviously wasn't thinking at all.
The sheer stupidity of some people…Rodney had never known humanity was exactly like he'd always said it was. The absolute unfairness of it was overwhelming at times. He, Rodney McKay, genius, taken well before his time, was left to watch while the rest of these people, dumber than the rocks Johnson studied, were still walking around enjoying their lives-what he could have contributed to the world should have assured his long life; these people weren't contributing anything but carbon dioxide to the air.
"Bad day?" Rodney spun around to see John smiling, slouched against the wall beside…
"Oh thank God, coffee," Rodney muttered, walking past John and into the Starbucks John was leaning beside, ordering an extra large Café Mocha.
"I'll take that as a yes," John chuckled, following Rodney in and ordering a regular coffee.
"The world is full of idiots," Rodney growled, sitting at one of the empty tables and cradling his drink between two hands. John sat opposite him, sipping his coffee with a raised eyebrow. "I'm serious," Rodney said, a little insulted at the look of doubt on John's face. "Do you know how many of my reaps died…"
"All of them?" John replied cheerfully, grinning at the scowl on Rodney's face.
"They all died because of their own stupidity," Rodney snapped. "Today was just another shining example of what humanity has to offer-and believe me, what it's offering, you don't want."
"They're not all that bad," John said, leaning his elbows on the table.
Rodney scowled again, this time at the table top but kept quiet.
John pushed away from the table, placing a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here."
-----
Okay, while Rodney occasionally missed his old life-his actual life, he did admit that being undead had a few…perks.
"Oh god," he moaned, burying his fingers in John's hair, his hips thrusting up into warm, wet heat again and again. So it was kind of a shitty day, but Rodney couldn't have cared less, not with John's tongue doing that and when his fingers were right there. "Stop, stop," he panted, pulling gently on John's hair, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut tight at the vision of John's mouth sliding up his cock, releasing it with a wet, lewd slurp. Taking a second to catch his breath, he opened his eyes, John hovering above him, a concerned frown on his face.
"You okay?"
Rodney reached up, pulling him down into a deep kiss before burying his face in the crook of John's neck, breathing him in. "I want you to fuck me."
John's hips snapped forward, sliding against Rodney's with delicious friction making them both moan. His forehead to Rodney's collarbone, John took a deep steadying breath before nodding, pressing a firm kiss to Rodney's skin. "Okay," he croaked hoarsely and a little wobbly, pulling back to look into Rodney's eyes. "You sure?"
Running his thumb over John's bottom lip he grinned, pushing his hips against John's again, his erection poking John in the stomach. "Yes, quite sure," Rodney said wryly, laughing when John nipped his thumb before opening his mouth to John's insistent tongue.
It had been a while since either one of them had done this, no time or inclination for more than the odd hand-job or blow-job from some nameless stranger in a bar or back alley ages from this moment in time and Rodney was left writhing, panting under John as he took his time stretching him, dragging each and every sensation out until all Rodney could do was fist his hands in the sheets and hang on. His heart racing, cock throbbing while John's lips ghosted over every inch of skin he could reach, his fingers never ceasing their torturously slow rhythm as they slid in and out of Rodney's body.
John sliding inside Rodney felt like coming home, like a part of Rodney had been missing until John, with his crazy hair and goofy grin came along, sneaking his way past all Rodney's long familiar walls, each brush of skin against skin silently whispering 'finally'. Rodney had waited a lifetime (literally) to find this and he swore they would need to pry his cold, undead fingers away before he ever gave John up.
When they fell asleep, Rodney's fingers were entwined possessively with John's, not even the relaxation of sleep enough for his grip to loosen.
-----
Daniel slid into the booth across from Jack, eyeing the man as he read the sports page, eating his fruit loops and completely ignoring Daniel. Janet came around and Daniel ordered coffee, shifting in the seat, thrumming his fingers along the tabletop as he waited for Jack to acknowledge him. He managed to wait an entire three minutes and forty two seconds by his watch before he broke. "Good morning, Jack," he said with an overly cheerful chirp that usually had Jack demanding to know what Daniel had done, what he was planning to do and how much trouble Jack was going to need to get him out of.
"Daniel," Jack drawled, eyes still firmly glued to the paper in his hand.
"Nice weather," Daniel commented, thanking Janet when she brought his coffee and one of O'Malley's famous steak and eggs platters.
Jack gave a non-committal grunt that would have made Ronon proud, downing the rest of his coffee and pushing away the empty cereal bowl.
The night before Jack had been sullen, quiet and evasive-more so than usual and Daniel hadn't gleaned anything from him that he didn't already suspect. Despite fully intending to help Jack through this, Daniel wasn't quite ready to push too hard. So they'd spent the night watching hockey and The Simpsons reruns before Jack had said he was turning in, telling Daniel he knew where the guestroom was.
Jack was gone when Daniel woke up that morning and Daniel had showered quickly, stopping by his own place for a change of clothes before hurrying here to try and get a little time with Jack before the others got there. He was hoping that Jack would be a little more talkative today but…
"Enough Daniel," Jack growled, finally tearing his eyes away from last night's hockey scores. "I'm fine, alright? Stop worrying-"
Before Daniel could respond Ronon was loping in, sliding into the seat beside Daniel and ordering a stack of pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon and hash browns and an extra large orange juice. He nodded to both Daniel and Jack, snagging Jack's paper and grinning at Jack's indignant 'Hey'.
Daniel was a little nauseous by the time John and Rodney arrived-Ronon had been particularly intense in his food consumption this morning, which Daniel had gotten used to but Ronon's newest quirk left Daniel a little green.
"Oh my god," Rodney said, nose curled up in disgust. "Did you put mustard and ketchup on your pancakes?"
"S'good," Ronon mumbled before pushing the plate away with a satisfied sigh, downing the rest of his juice before holding out his hand towards Jack.
Rolling his eyes, Jack slapped a post-it into Ronon's hand, watching as the man threw some bills onto the table before he stalked from the restaurant with a rumbled, "Later," thrown over his shoulder.
-----
"Okay so I need a favor," Rodney started without preamble, walking quickly after Ronon, glancing once behind himself to make sure John hadn't followed him out of O'Malley's.
Ronon just snorted and Rodney narrowed his eyes, quickening his pace so as to be walking beside Ronon rather than behind. "I'm serious," Rodney snapped. "I need you to help me protect John."
"Sheppard can look after himself," Ronon rumbled and Rodney rolled his eyes because yes, yes, they'd already played a round of 'John's a big-boy'.
"Look," Rodney ground out. "John is going to go meet Kolya tonight." He noted with satisfaction that Ronon's steps began to slow. "He plans to tell Kolya where he can shove his job but we both know that's not going to go over well."
Ronon glanced at Rodney from the corner of his eye. "You've never met Kolya…"
"No," Rodney snapped again, eyes a bright burning blue, "but I cleaned up after his lackeys decided to use John as target practice, remember?"
Nodding, Ronon stuffed his hands in his pockets. "John's not going to like you interfering."
"Well that's just too fucking bad because I am not about to let him get himself killed…again."
"We can't die," Ronon shrugged.
Rodney growled, making Ronon smirk. "I don't care, that's not the point. The point is that we can still get hurt and John has this fucking martyr complex or something and seems to think that scum like this Kolya deserve, just by the mere fact that they are still alive, to get away with it, as long as it's John's undead ass getting hurt."
Ronon grunted his agreement, turning down an alleyway, leaving Rodney's steps to falter before he changed directions, following Ronon. "So are you going to help me or what?"
"What's the plan?" Ronon asked, pulling the yellow post-it note from his pocket and glancing at it before shoving it back in his coat.
"Well," Rodney started, fumbling a little. "I haven't really worked the details out just yet-I wanted to make sure I could convince you to help first." He looked a little sheepish, shrugging before he slipped back into his normal arrogant mask. "But I'll come up with something brilliant, don't you worry. Kolya won't know what hit him."
"You gonna kill him?"
Ronon stuck out a hand, brushing past a homeless man dressed in rags, taking his soul and continuing down the alley. Rodney looked back, watching as the man began coughing, collapsing to his knees before falling to the side. Suddenly he was walking beside them. Ronon clapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the lights ahead of them. A huge house, warmly lit filled the end of the alley and a woman and boy about 4 years old stood standing on the front steps waving and smiling at the man as he began running toward them.
With a blink the homeless man and his lights were gone.
Rodney shook his head. "I don't want to kill him," he said quietly. "But John is my only concern."
Ronon nodded, slapping Rodney on the back before pointing left. "We're going to need some stuff."
-----
Daniel smiled politely at Catherine-this was the third time this week that she had brought him cookies. Out of nowhere she said, "I want you to meet my granddaughter," completely ignoring Daniel's 'deer-in-the-headlights' look as she continued. "She's a sweet girl, loves history and archaeology in particular; I think you'd get along wonderfully. She's about your age, tall, thin, blonde…"
"Catherine," Daniel began but she cut him off.
"I'm not taking no for an answer," she said affectionately. "Daniel, you spend too much time cooped up in this stuffy old museum. You're too young not to have a life outside of these dusty walls."
Daniel smiled. "I appreciate your concern, Catherine," he grinned. "But I like this stuffy old museum, dusty walls and all."
She huffed out a put upon sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Very well, but if you change your mind I know Sarah would love to meet you."
"I'll keep that in mind," he laughed, shaking his head and biting into a cookie. He was a sucker for Catherine's famous chocolate chip.
When she left his office he returned to the notebook open before him on the table. He stared at the entries dating back to his very first reap. He'd started keeping it and couldn't seem to stop. It was full of his observations and his speculations about the afterlife, about the small amounts of information he'd gleaned from each of his reaps-about their lives before death, about what they saw waiting for them.
The others thought he was crazy to wonder about it all. Jack had told him once that there was no point wondering or worrying, when it was Daniel's time he'd get his own lights and all his questions would be answered.
Daniel wondered how long he would have to wait before that happened, before he met his quota and his own lights waited for him.
-----
Ronon grinned broadly and Rodney rolled his eyes. "Do you really think we need walkie-talkies?" The look Ronon gave him had Rodney sighing dramatically and adding the walkie-talkies to the already huge stack of 'stuff' Ronon said they needed in order to protect John. Rodney was beginning to think that Ronon was just using this as excuse to trick Rodney into going on a shopping spree for some cool new toys for him because if there was one thing Rodney knew, it was that Ronon could take down anyone with his bare hands. There was no way they needed all of this stuff.
"Alright," Rodney groused. "That's enough, I am officially broke."
Ronon snorted and tossed a shiny bowie knife on top of the pile and clapped Rodney on the shoulder. "Meet you outside."
"Yes, yes," Rodney muttered. "Don't worry about me, it's not like I have a bad back or anything."
When Rodney stumbled out of the military store Ronon had just spent $1300 in, he shoved the bags at the man leaning against the front of the building. "I bought it, you can carry it," Rodney snapped, twisting this way and that after his hands were empty. Ronon just rolled his eyes.
Rodney let Ronon take all the supplies home because he didn't want John to see anything and get suspicious. Rodney headed back to the apartment, desperately wanting a shower, a pot of coffee, and John naked and writhing underneath him.
When he walked into the apartment, Rodney's breath caught in his throat. John was up against the wall, a towel around his hips and there was a gorilla of a man pressed against his back, his hand reaching for the towel around John's waist. "What the fuck is going on here?" Rodney snapped, watching as the man pinning John to the wall turned to face him. He had cold dead eyes, his face pock-marked and scarred. The man released John, taking a step back with an ugly smile on his face.
"Rodney," John said quietly, his voice low and dangerous. "Wait in the bedroom."
"Yes, Rodney," the man parroted, "Wait in the bedroom, John and I aren't quite done…"
"Like hell you aren't!" Rodney yelled, yanking the front door open again. "Get the fuck out of our apartment." He didn't need introductions to know who this man was.
Kolya smirked. "Cozy," he drawled, voice nothing but gravel. "Remember what I said, John," Kolya said quietly, dead eyes locked on John's before they traveled down his body leaving Rodney feeling queasy. And then he marched toward the door, giving Rodney a twisted grin before closing the door silently behind him.
John sagged against the wall; head tilted back, eyes closed. Rodney was so mad he was pretty sure if he wasn't already dead he'd be stroking out about now. "What the fuck was he doing here?" Rodney asked, the panic he'd managed to hide from Kolya beginning to seep into his voice.
"Don't worry about it," John said quietly, not meeting Rodney's eyes as he pushed off the wall. "I'm going to go get dressed."
"John…" Rodney started but John was already in his room, the door closing, shutting Rodney out.
Rodney paced the living room for a few minutes before rushing into his bedroom, reaching for his cell phone and closing the door. He quickly dialed Ronon's number. "It's me," he said as soon as Ronon picked up. "Kolya was just here."
Ronon growled out that he was on his way and hung up. Rodney sat on his bed feeling completely useless and so scared he couldn't think past the image of John, almost naked and vulnerable with fucking Kolya plastered to his back. If he hadn't just walked in… But no, he couldn't think like that, didn't want to think about that because if he let himself think about it he knew Ronon wouldn't get the chance to do anything to Kolya because Rodney would kill the bastard himself for daring to lay a hand on John.
John's bedroom door opened and Rodney was on his feet before he could think twice. "John…"
"I've got to go out," John said, throwing Rodney a grin. "Don't wait up."
"Stop!" Rodney yelled, surprised when John actually did. "You expect me to just let you go after what I just walked in on?"
"I can take care of myself, McKay," John growled, eyes narrowing dangerously. "It's none of your business."
"None of my business?" Rodney snapped. "None of my business that I just walked into our apartment to see you pinned against the wall, naked with some fucking psychopath plastered to your back? None of my business that my lover could have been…"
"Don't!" John shouted, holding his hand up. He took a step closer, eyes pleading, voice soft. "Rodney, please…just…don't…let it go, okay?"
Rodney crossed the space separating them, pulling John into a rough hug. "Jesus," he hissed. "How can you ask me to let this go?"
John wrapped his arms around Rodney, burying his face against Rodney's neck. "Because I'm asking and I need you to," he answered quietly. "I can handle Kolya."
"What are you going to do?" Rodney asked, pulling back and wrapping his arms around himself, his eyes wide and frightened.
John winked. "I'll think of something."
"You don't get to just say that and walk out of here," Rodney snapped. "You haven't thought of a good way to deal with this yet, what's different now?"
"Kolya was here to remind me to show up tonight," John admitted. "And that's exactly what I intend to do."
"Because you're the suicidal undead?" Rodney spat angrily. "Seriously, are you completely unhinged?"
"Kolya thinks I have something he wants," John said. "I don't. Once he realizes that, he'll stop, and it's over. He'll forget all about me just like everyone else--we fade, Rodney. We're the figures they see out of the corners of their eyes. The ones they don't remember once they make it home and lock the door behind them."
"I don't feel dead, John," Rodney said quietly. "I don't. I've got a heartbeat, you know. I feel pain. Pleasure. I've got the same mind I've always had. And so you'll forgive me if I don't want to just fade away!"
John turned away with a sigh. "I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I don't..."
"Them," Rodney repeated. "You keep saying 'them.' We were them, you know, living. And we're still here now. We're here for a reason."
"Exactly," John said. "We're here to take their souls. This isn't borrowed time, this is punishment."
Rodney looked like he'd been struck. "Is that what you really think?"
John pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes, before dropping them agitatedly and turning back to Rodney. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Rodney, in my life, in my unlife, ever, but that doesn't change what we are."
"And what are we?" Rodney asked quietly.
"We're dead," John said. Then he turned and went out the door.
-----
Daniel used to be terrified of heights. It never stopped him scaling Pyramids anyway, but still, he was terrified.
He wondered what would happen if he fell now his body couldn’t break. He leaned out over the edge, squinting towards the ground. There was that edge of vertigo still. He wasn't cured completely, even knowing he'd survive, if only to stay as he was.
He leaned back away again and pushed his hands back into his pockets.
"You know, I almost didn't notice."
Daniel spun around at the voice. Jack was leaning against the roof entrance door, staring up at the moon.
"Notice what?" Daniel asked.
"You," Jack said. "Slipping into one of your moods again. I see you've started a new journal."
"I ran out of pages in the last one," Daniel said.
Jack laughed and shook his head. "And you're worrying about me."
"I don't keep things to myself like you," Daniel said. "Writing is cathartic."
"It's more than that. You just can't help yourself, can you?" Jack asked. "I remember watching you before you died. You were so completely absorbed inside your own thoughts you didn't even hear them shouting for you to get out of the way."
Daniel shrugged. "If we learn anything in this job, Jack, it's that we rarely get the death we expect."
Jack continued as though he hadn't spoken. "What worries me is you've got the same look in your eyes now that you had then."
There was a flash of bright blue in the distance, like a tear in the sky. It was only lightening, but it caught Daniel's focus and held it there. "You've been doing this forever," Daniel said, almost dreamily. "Don't you want to know what's next?"
Jack let out a heavy breath, before grabbing Daniel's sleeve and giving him a push back inside. "No, I don't," he said.
-----
Rodney opened the door and Ronon stood there like Rambo, a rifle thrown over his back and pistol about three times the size the one Rodney had hanging loosely from one hand. Mrs. Troscky from next door stood looking through the what little space the chain on her door would allow, protectively holding her cat.
She slammed it shut the moment Rodney made eye contact. Rodney sighed. "You missed him," he said. "John's gone, too."
Ronon looked disappointed, and he held the pistol against his chest, almost as though he were consoling it.
"John's still planning to meet him tonight," Rodney said, before turning and moving back into the apartment. He fell down on the couch and placed his head in his hands. "I don't think I can help him."
Ronon kicked the door closed behind them and jumped up to sit on the counter, setting his pistol by the airplane cookie jar Jack had bought as a housewarming gift. "I can help him," Ronon said. "People are really easy to kill. Only took eight bullets to take me down. My gun's special made. It's got twelve."
Rodney winced. "Okay, not what I meant," he snapped. "John, he's screwed up. He thinks he's being punished."
"Maybe he is," Ronon said.
Rodney glared at him and surged back to his feet. "He didn't do anything wrong!"
"Doesn't mean he's not being punished," Ronon said. "All those light shows we see? They each make their own. We make our own hell too, McKay."
"So I'm his hell then?" Rodney asked. "Because it's not like that for me, and I can't keep doing this."
Ronon rolled his eyes. "It's not about you," he said. "Or it is."
"Do you have to work at being this unhelpful?" Rodney snapped.
"What I mean is, John thinks he's being punished right? Then you come along, first time in maybe forever he's happy, doesn't know how to deal. Thinks he doesn't deserve it. Thinks, how can I screw my unlife up? Enter Kolya."
Rodney blinked. "That's possibly the most simplified bit of exposition I've ever heard."
Ronon shrugged. "It's a gift."
Rodney bit his lip, then raised his eyes to meet Ronon's. "I don't know where he's gone."
Ronon jumped down from the counter. "I do," he said. "Been there once before."
-----
Kolya was waiting for him when he arrived, Sora just behind him. Kolya grinned smugly at John. "Where's your guard dog gone?"
"I came alone, like you asked," John said, glancing at Sora and back. "See you brought back-up, though. You planning to hide behind her if things get out of hand?"
Kolya glared at him. "Leave," he said, motioning Sora to leave. Sora glared at him for a moment, but did as she was told. "Is that better?"
"Follow her out," John said. "That would be better."
Kolya laughed. "You don't change, John, I'll give you that."
"I can say the same about you," John said. "And to clarify, it's not a compliment."
Kolya pulled out a gun and unceremoniously shot John in the chest. John staggered back, hitting the concrete with a thud and an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu. He coughed up blood and then laughed. "Haven't we done this already?" he asked.
Kolya walked over to him, staring down unemotionally. Then he dropped down to his knees beside John and ripped his shirt open to examine the wound. The bullet wound was obvious, still gushing blood, and Kolya frowned.
"What happens now?" he asked.
John closed his eyes. "Probably not what you're expecting," he said. "I'm not what you think."
"The other night," Kolya said. "They told me they shot you three times, but by my count you've only got one bullet in you."
"I wear a vest on jobs," John ground out, "but then, I've told you that before."
"You're not wearing one now."
"My fault for trusting you," he said.
"You don't," Kolya said. "You never have."
Kolya tilted his head as the bleeding slowed. He ran the palm of his hand over John's chest, ignoring his gasp of pain, and wiped the blood clear of the wound. It was half closed already. Kolya grabbed John by what was left of his shirt and pulled him to his feet, slamming him into the wall. "What the hell are you?" he asked.
"Not really a question I'm qualified to answer," John told him, letting himself rest against the wall, breathing hard. "You're not going to give up, are you?"
Kolya grabbed John's chin, forcing him to look at him. "I've been studying you. You can take life with a touch," he said.
"Maybe you should back off then," John said.
Kolya laughed. "But not from me," he continued. "You've never been able to hurt me. You would have killed me long before now if you could. Do you know what that means?"
"You're going to count yourself as lucky and move to Tijuana?" John asked.
"It means I have power over you," Kolya said. "It means you belong to me now."
Kolya's hand wrapped around John's neck, cutting off any response. Kolya grinned manically. "You never should have turned me down, John."
-----
Rodney staggered off the back of Ronon's motorcycle, pulling the helmet off with a sound of distress. "You're insane," he said. "You almost hit that truck head on. We aren't going to be any good to John if we're plastered on a windshield."
Ronon just looked amused. "You said to go fast."
"That was when I thought you had a car...not not this thing--" Rodney cut himself off as Ronon raised his gun and aimed it at him. "Okay, sorry, wow, I won't insult the motorcycle, it's...lovely, really--"
"McKay, shut up," Ronon said, "and move out of my line of fire."
Rodney spun around and then backed up towards Ronon. A woman with red hair stood just a few feet away, aiming a small gun at them. "You'll want to be leaving," she said. "My boss doesn't want to be disturbed."
"That so," Ronon said. Then he threw his pistol like it was a boomerang and hit her in the head. It clattered to the ground as she fell into a heap. Ronon walked over and picked his weapon up, nudging her with his foot.
"You just--" Rodney started. "You threw it."
"She was annoying me," Ronon said. He dusted his weapon off and examined it closely, making sure it hadn't been damaged at all by her skull. "Looks okay."
"Better than her," Rodney agreed, kneeling beside her. She was out cold.
The night lit up for a moment in another flash of lightening, and Ronon turned back to the building ahead of them and the large, wide open hanger doors. "They'll be in there," he said.
"I can't believe John's never taken me here," Rodney said. "All this time and I never asked to see where he worked."
"Doesn't like bringing people here," Ronon said. "Wouldn't have asked me to come if he hadn't needed me to."
"Why?" Rodney asked.
"Not sure," Ronon said. "Maybe because it's the one part of his past he choose to keep."
The sound of a gunshot brought their conversation to an abrupt halt. Rodney started running without checking to make sure Ronon was behind him, never stopping to wonder what he thought he could do on his own.
Rodney made it to the hanger doors and skid to a stop inside. The lights on the left side were flickering in and out, but the ones above Kolya and John remained steady and Rodney could see them both perfectly clear.
John was gasping around the blood slicked fingers clutching at his throat, and Kolya was smiling, smiling; probably shot John again just to see if he'd still bleed, and Rodney was glad it was Ronon holding the gun, because if he had it in his hands he'd gladly cross lines he'd never even skirted before.
John's eyes flickered in his direction, a little glazed from pain, though unafraid. Rodney would rather he was terrified, because this quiet acceptance was so much worse, split his heart apart that little bit further, and when this was over he was going to tell John he doesn't deserve this, that he doesn't have to pay some price in blood for things he never had any control over anyway; and he was going to whisper that he was important into every place on his skin.
Rodney took this all in, felt this all, in some kind of small eternity, and then Ronon was swinging into the doors behind him and raising his gun. Kolya didn't even have the chance to turn in their direction and the gunshot was ringing in Rodney's ears, sending a shockwave all the way down to his toes.
The bullet shot straight through one ear to the other and the sound of impact was sickening, but Rodney had spent all of this strange new life watching people die that probably didn't deserve it, and he didn't so much as twitch as Kolya went limp and hit the ground. Rodney knew that this particular death was more than the man deserved, and had it been convenient, he was sure Ronon would have made it slow.
Without someone to hold him up, John followed Kolya to the floor, leaving a streak of viscous red in a path down the wall behind him.
They all stayed frozen for a moment, watching Kolya, waiting for the world to stop turning; because this wasn't the way it worked. People didn't die without it being written on a ledger somewhere, or so Rodney had been told, and the air around him all felt too thin to breath in without suffocating.
Then Kolya started to convulse, and Rodney darted forward, grabbing at John under his arms and pulling him away. Ronon moved to stand in front of them both, lifting his gun and resting it on his shoulder as he stared Kolya down, almost as though he were daring him to come back to life, just so he could kill him again.
Kolya arched off the ground, but he wasn't moaning, and his eyes remained closed. Rodney could hear John's harsh breathing but everything else was deadly silent until a loud inhuman cry burst up from somewhere not of this world, and a small gremlin-like creature tore a path out of Koyla's flesh, and stood poised on the corpse, watching them with familiar eyes.
"What the fuck," John said, forcing the words through his bruised throat and echoing Rodney's thoughts. He held John a little tighter, and tugged them both a little further away.
Ronon just lowered his gun again to a good aim, and fired off three more rounds. They didn't touch the creature, went right through him instead, and Rodney could swear as it darted away, climbing straight up the walls, that it was smiling.
-----
Daniel wasn't where he left him. Jack sighed. It was hardly anything new.
Last time he'd checked Daniel had been asleep in the guest room, but the sheets had been kicked into an untidy pile at the foot of the bed and it was empty. After wandering the rooms, Jack finally found him standing on the balcony in the pouring rain, barefoot and only wearing his sweats.
Jack opened the door. "Daniel, get inside."
Daniel's eyes were far away, arms wrapped defensively around himself. He was blinking the rain out of his eyes and didn't turn at the sound of Jack's voice. "There has to be more than this," he said.
He closed his eyes. Jack stepped out beside him, letting himself get just as soaked. "Maybe there is," Jack said. "We'll all know for sure when we're ready."
"I'm way past ready," Daniel said. "I've seen everything I've ever wanted to see. I've done everything I've ever wanted to do. Learned almost all that's left to learn."
"Always something new to learn, Danny," Jack said. "Learned that from you."
Daniel laughed, but still didn't look at him. "Why are we chosen? Is it random? Or are we the ones with unfinished business?" Daniel finally turned to face him. "Maybe we are supposed to interfere. Whatever higher power is pulling the strings has to know we can't resist, can't just stand by and--"
"And what, Daniel?" Jack asked.
Daniel turned away again. "Watch everyone else get their ending."
"Come inside," Jack said again.
"I can't keep doing this, Jack," Daniel said quietly.
"I know, but come inside."
Daniel followed Jack in, but not without one backwards glance at the storm-laden sky.
-----
Rodney doesn't know how long he stayed sitting on that concrete floor with John pressed against him and Ronon standing guard, but eventually he started moving again. Ronon helped them get home. Rodney helped John into the shower and helped him wrap a bandage around his chest and the entire time he didn't say a word and neither did John.
"Kolya's dead," John said finally, breaking their silence.
"Yeah," Rodney agreed.
"Ronon killed him," John continued. "Just...he didn't--"
"I would have done the same thing," Rodney told him.
John placed his head in his hands. "But why? I'm not--"
"Not worth it?" Rodney asked dangerously. "I'm getting sick of this, John. You said it, you're already dead, so your suicidal tendencies just come off as pathetic."
"That's not what this is," John protested.
"If you ever do anything like that again," Rodney started. "Well, let's just say I'm not sure I'd be able to forgive you for it. I'd still want you safe, but I don't think I even trust you as it is."
John shook his head. "The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you, Rodney. I just thought, I thought I could talk to him. Don't you get it? I've got enough blood on my hands already."
Rodney kneeled in front of him, grabbing his hands. "I've learned a lot since the day I died. I want you to listen, because this is important. Firstly, life is short. Secondly, people are just as stupid as I always suspected. Third, they can be more amazing then I ever imagined. Fourth, and most important, this isn't punishment, this isn't hell, and it isn't heaven."
"Then what is it?" John asked.
"A second chance," Rodney said, and then he leaned forward and kissed him.
John pulled Rodney up and beside him, resting his forehead against Rodney's neck before falling asleep. Rodney could never fall asleep that way, his brain was too awake the way it always was. He was always at his most brilliant after 1 A.M.
Rodney looked over at John, not sure if he'd made an impact at all, but not willing to give up yet. Rodney didn't think he was going to get another chance after this. This was it, and it was more painful and more perfect than he could have thought possible.
Rodney ran his fingers gently over the bruises around John's neck as he slept on. They were taking longer to fade than they were supposed to, and Rodney wondered if someone was trying to tell them something.
-- Co-written with the lovely and talented forcryinoutloud.
First part: Dead Like Them. Second part: Dead Man Walking. Third part: Ghost Story One | Two
Death Scenes
Opening his eyes, Rodney stretched, his body still relaxed from sleep and the previous night's activities. He turned with a smile, eyes still closed, reaching out behind him for John and was instead met with empty air. Sitting up quickly he scanned his room, John was nowhere to be found, Thales curled up asleep in the spot John had been.
If he was being honest with himself, it wasn't the first time he'd slept with someone only to wake up the next morning and have them be gone but he was so sure that John was different. He was so sure that what they had was something more than just sex. Swallowing past the tightness in his throat, Rodney berated himself for being so stupid as to believe someone like John could ever fall for someone like him.
Pushing himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he reached for his clothes. When he was dressed, Rodney considered what he knew of John from the past months living with him, considered what John had said the night before. It didn't make sense that John would just leave, and though Rodney breathed easy about that, it left only one possible explanation. It was currently 5 a.m. and Rodney knew that John went jogging in the morning, but after last night he couldn't see John taking off for a run without at least leaving a note, couldn't imagine him going anywhere without leaving a note... except for one place.
Swearing under his breath, Rodney yanked on his shoes, grabbing his jacket and keys and hurrying towards the door. There was only one place John could be--Kolya.
Slamming the front door to the apartment building Rodney took the stairs two at a time, all the while cursing John for being so damn reckless and swearing on everything he could think of that if Kolya even so much as breathed on John, he'd be sorry.
Just before his foot hit the last step he heard an amused drawl, "Mornin' sunshine."
Rodney's head whipped around to see John standing on the sidewalk, two cups of coffee and a bag of doughnuts in his hands. "Oh thank god," Rodney sighed, sinking to sit on the front steps. "I thought you'd gone off with Kolya again."
John grinned, jostling everything in his hands until he held out a cup of coffee for Rodney. "Oh no, that's not for a couple days."
"What!?" Rodney was on his feet again, glaring at John. "Are you out of your mind?"
John leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Rodney's mouth. "I'm going to tell Kolya where he can shove his job."
Rodney followed John into the apartment, suddenly feeling much more relaxed. "Couldn't you just do it over the phone?"
"Trust me," John said, throwing a smile over his shoulder, "a phone call wouldn't cut it."
"You should take Ronon with you," Rodney said, closing the door behind them. "I know you don't like guns, John, but you shouldn't go alone. It's not safe."
Tossing the bag of doughnuts onto the couch and taking Rodney's coffee from him, placing both cups on the table by the door, John pulled Rodney closer. Wrapping a hand behind Rodney's head, John pressed up against him, mouths together in a heated kiss. Pulling back, John smirked. "I could really use a shower--wanna join me?"
Rodney's eyes glazed, "You're trying to distract me."
"Is it working?" John grinned, letting his hand slip under Rodney's shirt.
Shoving John away from him, Rodney stripped out of his clothes, stumbling towards the bathroom. "Yes--but only for a little while so you better take advantage of it."
John laughed, following Rodney, his own clothes discarded haphazardly on the floor. "Oh I have every intention of doing just that."
----
Daniel woke up slumped on Jack's couch, groaning when he stretched, looking around the room for Jack. Smelling coffee coming from the kitchen he smiled and stood, getting the last kinks out before stumbling towards much needed caffeine. The kitchen was empty when he walked in and he frowned. Beside the coffee maker was another post-it and he shook his head thinking Jack must have a closet full of the little yellow notes for how much he wasted them on non-reaper business. Picking up the piece of paper he scowled.
"God dammit, Jack."
----
Ronon was already halfway through his breakfast when Daniel got there, and surprise both John and Rodney were late. He slid into the booth, ordering another coffee, his head pounding. Daniel had managed to get Jack to open up a little, he told him that he'd been married to Sara; that they'd had a son Charlie, but Jack wouldn't tell him what happened to either of them. In the end they'd ordered pizza and Daniel fell asleep in the middle of a hockey game.
Daniel looked at Ronon, shaking his head as the man shoveled the rest of his eggs into his mouth. "Where are John and Rodney?"
"Not here yet," Ronon rumbled back and Daniel just managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. "Where's Jack?"
Daniel bit his lip, the post-it in his pocket feeling like it weighed a ton, but feather light compared to the day planner heavy and ominous beside him in the booth. "Jack's not going to be around for a few days."
Ronon raised his head at that, eyes assessing Daniel before shrugging and returning to his breakfast. "That's it? You're not going to ask where he went?"
"None of my business," Ronon grunted, finishing off his coffee. "You handing out the assignments while he's gone?"
Daniel nodded absently, pulling the day planner onto the table and sticking a post-it to the table in front of Ronon. Ronon picked it up, shoving it in his pocket before sliding out of the booth and leaving without another word.
Twenty minutes later John and Rodney hurried in, both of them looking a little guilty and Daniel shook his head with a grin thinking it was about time. "Where's Jack?" Rodney asked sliding into the seat Ronon had vacated when he'd left, grabbing the menu and snapping his fingers at Janet, demanding a large black coffee. Janet was, by now, used to Rodney and just rolled her eyes as she finished taking the couple in the corners order. On the way towards the kitchen she smacked Rodney in the back of the head and he scowled but didn't say anything, John snickering beside him.
"He's got some…stuff to take care of for a few days."
"Stuff-Jack has stuff?" Rodney frowned, narrowing his eyes at Daniel. "What kind of stuff?"
"The personal kind," Daniel said with impatience, pinching the bridge of his nose, and flipping through the day planner, slapping two post-it notes in front of Rodney and John.
"And he left you in charge?" John asked, shocked because he'd spent over twenty years with Daniel and Jack and Ronon and there was no way that Jack would entrust Daniel, Daniel who had tried to save his first reap, who spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating what was on the other side of those pretty lights, who barely remembers to eat and sleep, in charge of them-him. John narrowed his eyes.
Daniel rolled his. "Look, I'm just handing out your assignments for a few days; I'm not vying for Jack's job."
"When is he coming back?" Rodney asked, taking a gulp of the coffee Janet placed in front of him.
"Few days," Daniel shrugged. "He didn't really tell me, left a post-it."
Rodney snorted and John smiled at Janet when she brought his breakfast, ignoring the glare Rodney sent his way.
"So, you two finally gave in to all that sexual tension, huh?" Daniel asked innocently, grinning when Rodney spit coffee all over his breakfast, and John choked on the sausage he was chewing.
----
Ronon pushed his way into the dim bar, eyes scouring the place for a familiar face. He stalked towards a table at the back, sliding into it and grunting at the man across from him. The man smiled a sickly sweet smile. "Good to see you again, Ronon."
"You know why I'm here," Ronon growled.
The man nodded, sliding an envelope across the table towards him. "She's pretty."
Picking up the envelope, Ronon threw down one of his own, stood and walked away without a second glance. When he was outside, around the corner, he opened the envelope, fingers tracing the smiling face of a beautiful young woman, a face he hadn't seen in a long time. The slip of paper in the envelope gave a location and Ronon nodded to himself, putting both in the inside pocket of his trench coat before slipping into the streams of people crowding the streets.
----
Rodney and John went their separate ways after breakfast; Rodney to work and John to wherever he was going. Rodney tried not to worry, tried not to think about Kolya or what John quitting might entail. Instead he concentrated on getting some work done before his reap after lunch. He'd have to make up another excuse to Felger about why he was leaving early, but that wouldn't be hard. He'd gotten pretty good at lying the last few months.
He rolled his eyes at the newest stack of papers on his desk, wishing he could tell Radek to do his own god-damned paperwork. Rodney missed working at Atlantis Labs, where all he had to concentrate on were his projects. Missed his friends too, even though he'd never really had that many.
John and Jack had tried to tell him to leave his old life behind but every so often Rodney snuck back, hid in shadows and alleyways, just for a glimpse at the people he used to call friends, a glimpse of the life he'd been happy with, a life he still missed.
-----
It was the kind of place Jack always knew he would never end up; would have had to be around too long to get here, and as it was, he'd gotten more years than he'd ever bargained for.
Reaping a place like this would be damn easy. Almost everyone had given up already, and those that hadn't would in not too long. It was a long-term care hospital, set aside from the main asylum, and Jack could feel if not see the spirits as though they were still walking the halls.
It was giving him the creeps, and he wasn't easily spooked.
"You sure you want to do this, Jack?" Kowalski asked.
Jack knew the answer, it was no, easy, but it had taken him over eighty years to get this far, and he couldn't turn back now, not with time running out. Jack may have forever now, but not everyone on Earth did.
"Yeah, Kowalski," he said. "Sure."
"Room 86 then. And, Jack--" Kowalski broke off and broke eye contact, and Jack knew it was going to be bad. "Well, you know what to expect."
He didn't have a clue. The last time he'd seen his son, he'd been seven years old, and he'd been holding a gun.
It was a little hard for Jack to move past that image in his head.
-----
Any other day he would have had that drawer locked tight. He wondered sometimes how many days Charlie had tried to open it only to find it wouldn't budge, or if that was the very first time, in some cruel twist of fate.
He'd just kissed Sara, and turned to go into the house. He'd been calling Charlie's name, smiling the way he never had much reason to before them.
He didn’t remember much past opening the door. Just that weird little prick in his chest as his body crashed to the ground, and Charlie's anguished cries.
All he remembered thinking was better it him, than Charlie.
-----
Charlie never had kids of his own, Kowalski told him. He was in and out of psychiatric hospitals since age nine, when people started to give up on him. Sara never did, but even she couldn't live forever.
Jack had kind of hoped Charlie would just forget it, block it out, move on. Kid should of known he'd never blame him.
He was sitting at the window when Jack walked in, and he didn't look anything like the same. Not even his eyes. They were wide and kind of shell-shocked, like they were stuck in that same moment. His hair was white completely and he looked small, much too small. Not much bigger than he remembered him.
"Charlie," he whispered.
Charlie didn't turn around. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he said. He'd been saying the same thing for last few years now. Kowalski said he almost never stopped.
Jack went to the window and tried to see what Charlie saw. "It wasn't your fault," he said. "You were just a kid." His voice almost breaks, but it doesn't matter. Charlie can't hear him anyway.
Kowalski finally took his soul at quarter to twelve, and the room lit up with a baseball diamond across the floor.
Jack wasn't like Daniel. He usually didn't think or care about what lay on the other side, but today he knew it was somewhere better. It had to be.
-----
Her grave was untouched. All the people that had known her had been dead for years.
Ronon was never much for being sentimental, but whatever capacity for feeling he was missing he'd only lost when he lost her. It had kind of felt like losing his entire world.
The undead weren't supposed to visit people from their lives, but Ronon had no use for rules, and she couldn't be interfered with anyway. Can't interfere with the dead, even John would have to admit to that.
Teyla Emmagan was etched in the stone. Loving daughter, it said. No mention of how she held his heart, no mention of the way she was loved by him. He dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against her name.
He took three long, deep breaths, recited the prayer she taught him, the only one he knew, and placed a small rock atop the gravestone before leaving.
Just so people will know that she was still missed.
-----
Rodney ate his lunch outside of Atlantis Labs, on the same bench he'd sat on a hundred times before. Radek walked out the doors at twelve o'clock. His hair was its usual mess and he had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his old, familiar blue windbreaker.
He sat down right beside him. Rodney held his breath, waiting for him to turn, to recognize him. Of course, he didn't; just sat there and mumbled to himself, scribbling equations in a spiral notebook.
Rodney fought the urge to correct his work, or strike up the conversation they left off the day he died. He wanted to tell Radek he was a good friend, one of his only ones, and that he was sorry it had taken his own funeral for him to realize it.
He could imagine the conversation in his head. It would go something like this:
"Radek, hi. I know this is going to sound weird, but I'm Rodney. I'm undead. I take souls now and work for Felger."
Radek would jump to his feet. "You are crazy man, don't kid about my good friend."
Rodney would then say something brilliant that only he would know, and Radek would hug him and start talking a mile a minute, and tell him to come back to work, that there were problems that couldn't be solved without him.
Rodney opened his mouth, ready to speak, but Radek was already on his feet, oblivious, and heading back inside.
Rodney rested his head in his hands and reminded himself that he was dead. Dead. Undead. Whichever. It didn't make much of a difference, even if the science minded Radek could believe him and welcome him back, Jack would put a stop to it.
And even if he could get it back, have it all again, he'd just go back to being that oblivious man that yelled at everyone and couldn't see past his own arrogance. He'd go back to being that man that never even noticed he had friends, that couldn't do anything but solve equations--that man that didn't have John.
In some ways he thought he might be more alive now than he had been then.
-----
Daniel had barely been thirty when it happened. He met a man named Jack on his way to the unveiling--strange guy with a baseball cap and a curious smile, and his friend, a young kid with a bounce in his step and whose touch was like an electric shock.
Daniel's stomach had lurched the way it always did that last inch of an elevator ride, but it had passed just as quickly as Jack and his friend could disappear.
He hadn't thought that much of it at the time, he had other things on his mind. He was standing in the center of the exhibit, against Catherine's advice.
One minute he'd been directing the placement of the coverstone, and the next everyone was screaming and he was dead.
Daniel had taken it better than most. The whole of his response had been a quiet 'huh,' and then a thirty-minute lecture on the various theories of the afterlife and their relevance when faced with the truth.
He hadn't left anyone behind. His family had died before him and he had acquaintances, not friends. His work was his life, and death didn't really interfere with that. He could still read, research, wander the museum.
Since his death, he'd learned to speak seven more languages.
Jack thought it was a waste of time, but the way Daniel saw it, that was something they all had more than enough of now. Why not waste it?
He was an adaptive person, always had been. Had to be for his job. He had gone all over the world and while he worked on digs, he became a part of the culture that surrounded the site.
That was just something Daniel was good at.
The problem was, Daniel wasn't just dead, he now had obligations. He spent his lifetime avoiding getting tied down to any one place. Daniel cared about everyone but no one person more than the rest, because gaining particular attachments...well, Daniel knew how that went. One way or another, you lost them.
He supposed that being undead had made him careless. Jack, John, Ronon, even Rodney now, were people he cared about, people he was concerned with, and they all seemed to be going through their own personal crisis.
And none of them wanted any help.
Daniel sighed and leaned against Jack's truck. He was still inside. It hadn't been hard to figure out where he was going, and it had been even easier to figure out what for. Charlie would be about eighty-eight now, and Jack would have been the first person to see him on the list.
The others would figure things out, Daniel was sure, but Jack--Jack was getting his help, whether he wanted it or not.
-----
Rodney found Thales in John's room when he finally made it home. The sheets were still a mess, but he was too tired to wash them, or even head to his own room. He collapsed onto the bed and while Thales protested at the intrusion, he quickly forgave him, and curled up beside his head.
Rodney glanced towards the night table, and that picture of John. He wrapped his fingers around the silver chain of his dog tags and held them up to the light. He was so hard to imagine, the John in that picture, with his cocky grin and that gun strapped on his thigh.
Rodney hadn't changed much since he died. He thought that John seemed like he had morphed into someone else entirely; but that was a lot of guesswork from one single picture, and it wasn't like John talked at length about his life before.
Rodney knew that pictures could lie just as well as people, and for all he knew, John hadn't changed at all.
He sat up when he heard the door, and John wandered in a few minutes later. He leaned against the doorjamb with a grin. "Hey."
Rodney smiled. "Hey. I was just looking at these." He placed the dog tags gently back where he found them, and John's eyes tracked their every move.
"Yeah. It's sentimental, I know," he said, and looked down at the carpet. "That's not why I keep them, though. It's not to remember good times. It's to remember something else."
"John--" Rodney started.
"It's okay, Rodney," John interrupted. "It's fine, really. I'm fine. It was a long time ago."
Rodney took a deep breath. John didn't move any closer. "You know, I've been thinking, and it said they never found you--your body," he said. "On that site."
John's eyes raised to latch onto the wall. "They didn't."
"Then how did you get these?" Rodney asked, reaching out and touching the dog tags again.
"They're called dog tags, Rodney," John said. "We military guys all get them."
"You know that isn’t what I mean, John," Rodney said. "I want to know how you got them back."
-----
John spent the Christmas of '66 in Vietnam.
Jack gave him two days, not more, but he took three; spent one of them in the jungle, digging holes in the wet ground. He put Mitch in first, ripped the dog tags from his neck and reached out to close his eyes; there was nothing to be done about the bullet hole between them.
He laid Dex down next, trying not to gag as he pulled the pieces into the shallow grave. He found the dog tags nearby, stained with blood, Dex's blood, Mitch's, his own, and stuffed them in his pocket beside the other pair. John didn't bother marking the graves, because they would never be found, never visited again, even by him.
His own body was stiff and decaying nearby, still tightly gripping the gun he'd used to kill Mitch. John wrapped his fingers around the silver chain of his dog tags, brushing dead skin, and pulled them free.
Then he kicked the empty pistol clear, and lit a match so he could burn the rest.
-----
Rodney thought for a minute he'd pushed to far again, asked too much, but John just smiled disarmingly and stepped into the room. "I got them off a friend," he said, because the truth was always easiest to tell, and if he used it right, he wouldn't give anyway away at all.
John was really very good at that.
-----
Ronon taped her picture on the wall above his bed. His apartment didn't really have a place to set a frame, and he couldn't be bothered to steal one anyway. He felt far enough from her as it was, no need to set her behind a piece of glass.
It was funny because he was so relieved when he died. So ready. He never feared it, not once, not even when he still had her. It wasn't so much faith in an afterlife that gave him his indifferent view of death as his appreciation of the time he'd had.
People could say a lot about Ronon, but they could never say he hadn't lived.
He didn't really feel as though he'd died, though. Limbo. That's what they called it. Stuck between the before and the after with no way back to either one.
He wondered sometimes, what she saw, just before. He thought he should probably know what would have tempted her, what would have been shining in that strange blue light, but he doesn't.
He doesn't even know what his would be.
Not that it mattered all that much. Ronon wasn’t sure he’d even get them.
He half-suspected he might just disappear.
-----
Rodney's newest reap took him to the mall, a place he avoided in life like the plague. "Why don't these people buy their shit online like a civilized person?" he muttered to himself, stomping through the crowd of overly enthusiastic shoppers.
He had told Felger that morning that his mother had died (which was true in a way-she had died, fifteen years before) and he needed the afternoon off to arrange the funeral as he was her only living relative. The idiot believed him and what was more he actually had given Rodney the next three days off. So here he was traipsing through the dregs of society in search of J. Winston and wondering what the hell he was going to do for the next three days.
John was supposed to meet Kolya in tomorrow night to tell him he quit and Rodney knew (whether John liked it or not) that he would be there-with Ronon as backup-just in case Kolya didn't take too kindly to John quitting on him. So that gave him one thing to do over the next couple of days at least-try and convince Ronon they needed to keep an eye on John and make sure Kolya didn't try and hurt him-Rodney could be very convincing when properly motivated. But first he had to find this goddamned idiot he was supposed to reap. Who the hell died in a mall?
"Woohoo!" Rodney heard screaming from somewhere above him. Squinting up to the second floor he shook his head. Of course he'd get stuck with another stoner, this one trying to skateboard down the railing of the fucking escalator. With a put upon sigh he got to the second floor just as the kid-who honestly wasn't a kid anymore, he had to be at least thirty, and definitely should have known better-was ready to perform his very last stunt (not that he knew it would be his last). "Hey, Dude, check this out," Stoner said to Rodney with a grin.
Rolling his eyes Rodney slapped the guy in the back of the head, feeling the familiar tingle whenever he reaped a soul. "You're an idiot and you're going to get yourself killed but by all means, dude," Rodney waved his hand magnanimously towards the escalator. "Have at it."
The mall obviously had shitty security as his reap not only had time to have a conversation, as…stimulating as it was, with Rodney but he had time to actually go ahead and get his ass killed by missing the railing of the escalator and doing a header off the second floor of the mall to land crumbled and broken on the floor below before security even showed up.
"Dude, that is so not cool."
Rodney snorted and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away from the scene before him. "Congratulations," Rodney snipped, "it's not often my reaps are quite so…" he threw his hands up in the air and turned to glare at the man hovering behind him. "What the hell were you thinking?" Rodney demanded.
"Oh wow," his stoner muttered, ignoring Rodney's question, eyes even more glazed than they were when he was alive. "Righteous!" Rodney turned and watched him running towards his lights-a skate park, of course (obviously whoever was in charge of the light show was anything but imaginative)-and just shook his head again before walking away. Proof positive that his stoner obviously wasn't thinking at all.
The sheer stupidity of some people…Rodney had never known humanity was exactly like he'd always said it was. The absolute unfairness of it was overwhelming at times. He, Rodney McKay, genius, taken well before his time, was left to watch while the rest of these people, dumber than the rocks Johnson studied, were still walking around enjoying their lives-what he could have contributed to the world should have assured his long life; these people weren't contributing anything but carbon dioxide to the air.
"Bad day?" Rodney spun around to see John smiling, slouched against the wall beside…
"Oh thank God, coffee," Rodney muttered, walking past John and into the Starbucks John was leaning beside, ordering an extra large Café Mocha.
"I'll take that as a yes," John chuckled, following Rodney in and ordering a regular coffee.
"The world is full of idiots," Rodney growled, sitting at one of the empty tables and cradling his drink between two hands. John sat opposite him, sipping his coffee with a raised eyebrow. "I'm serious," Rodney said, a little insulted at the look of doubt on John's face. "Do you know how many of my reaps died…"
"All of them?" John replied cheerfully, grinning at the scowl on Rodney's face.
"They all died because of their own stupidity," Rodney snapped. "Today was just another shining example of what humanity has to offer-and believe me, what it's offering, you don't want."
"They're not all that bad," John said, leaning his elbows on the table.
Rodney scowled again, this time at the table top but kept quiet.
John pushed away from the table, placing a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here."
-----
Okay, while Rodney occasionally missed his old life-his actual life, he did admit that being undead had a few…perks.
"Oh god," he moaned, burying his fingers in John's hair, his hips thrusting up into warm, wet heat again and again. So it was kind of a shitty day, but Rodney couldn't have cared less, not with John's tongue doing that and when his fingers were right there. "Stop, stop," he panted, pulling gently on John's hair, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut tight at the vision of John's mouth sliding up his cock, releasing it with a wet, lewd slurp. Taking a second to catch his breath, he opened his eyes, John hovering above him, a concerned frown on his face.
"You okay?"
Rodney reached up, pulling him down into a deep kiss before burying his face in the crook of John's neck, breathing him in. "I want you to fuck me."
John's hips snapped forward, sliding against Rodney's with delicious friction making them both moan. His forehead to Rodney's collarbone, John took a deep steadying breath before nodding, pressing a firm kiss to Rodney's skin. "Okay," he croaked hoarsely and a little wobbly, pulling back to look into Rodney's eyes. "You sure?"
Running his thumb over John's bottom lip he grinned, pushing his hips against John's again, his erection poking John in the stomach. "Yes, quite sure," Rodney said wryly, laughing when John nipped his thumb before opening his mouth to John's insistent tongue.
It had been a while since either one of them had done this, no time or inclination for more than the odd hand-job or blow-job from some nameless stranger in a bar or back alley ages from this moment in time and Rodney was left writhing, panting under John as he took his time stretching him, dragging each and every sensation out until all Rodney could do was fist his hands in the sheets and hang on. His heart racing, cock throbbing while John's lips ghosted over every inch of skin he could reach, his fingers never ceasing their torturously slow rhythm as they slid in and out of Rodney's body.
John sliding inside Rodney felt like coming home, like a part of Rodney had been missing until John, with his crazy hair and goofy grin came along, sneaking his way past all Rodney's long familiar walls, each brush of skin against skin silently whispering 'finally'. Rodney had waited a lifetime (literally) to find this and he swore they would need to pry his cold, undead fingers away before he ever gave John up.
When they fell asleep, Rodney's fingers were entwined possessively with John's, not even the relaxation of sleep enough for his grip to loosen.
-----
Daniel slid into the booth across from Jack, eyeing the man as he read the sports page, eating his fruit loops and completely ignoring Daniel. Janet came around and Daniel ordered coffee, shifting in the seat, thrumming his fingers along the tabletop as he waited for Jack to acknowledge him. He managed to wait an entire three minutes and forty two seconds by his watch before he broke. "Good morning, Jack," he said with an overly cheerful chirp that usually had Jack demanding to know what Daniel had done, what he was planning to do and how much trouble Jack was going to need to get him out of.
"Daniel," Jack drawled, eyes still firmly glued to the paper in his hand.
"Nice weather," Daniel commented, thanking Janet when she brought his coffee and one of O'Malley's famous steak and eggs platters.
Jack gave a non-committal grunt that would have made Ronon proud, downing the rest of his coffee and pushing away the empty cereal bowl.
The night before Jack had been sullen, quiet and evasive-more so than usual and Daniel hadn't gleaned anything from him that he didn't already suspect. Despite fully intending to help Jack through this, Daniel wasn't quite ready to push too hard. So they'd spent the night watching hockey and The Simpsons reruns before Jack had said he was turning in, telling Daniel he knew where the guestroom was.
Jack was gone when Daniel woke up that morning and Daniel had showered quickly, stopping by his own place for a change of clothes before hurrying here to try and get a little time with Jack before the others got there. He was hoping that Jack would be a little more talkative today but…
"Enough Daniel," Jack growled, finally tearing his eyes away from last night's hockey scores. "I'm fine, alright? Stop worrying-"
Before Daniel could respond Ronon was loping in, sliding into the seat beside Daniel and ordering a stack of pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon and hash browns and an extra large orange juice. He nodded to both Daniel and Jack, snagging Jack's paper and grinning at Jack's indignant 'Hey'.
Daniel was a little nauseous by the time John and Rodney arrived-Ronon had been particularly intense in his food consumption this morning, which Daniel had gotten used to but Ronon's newest quirk left Daniel a little green.
"Oh my god," Rodney said, nose curled up in disgust. "Did you put mustard and ketchup on your pancakes?"
"S'good," Ronon mumbled before pushing the plate away with a satisfied sigh, downing the rest of his juice before holding out his hand towards Jack.
Rolling his eyes, Jack slapped a post-it into Ronon's hand, watching as the man threw some bills onto the table before he stalked from the restaurant with a rumbled, "Later," thrown over his shoulder.
-----
"Okay so I need a favor," Rodney started without preamble, walking quickly after Ronon, glancing once behind himself to make sure John hadn't followed him out of O'Malley's.
Ronon just snorted and Rodney narrowed his eyes, quickening his pace so as to be walking beside Ronon rather than behind. "I'm serious," Rodney snapped. "I need you to help me protect John."
"Sheppard can look after himself," Ronon rumbled and Rodney rolled his eyes because yes, yes, they'd already played a round of 'John's a big-boy'.
"Look," Rodney ground out. "John is going to go meet Kolya tonight." He noted with satisfaction that Ronon's steps began to slow. "He plans to tell Kolya where he can shove his job but we both know that's not going to go over well."
Ronon glanced at Rodney from the corner of his eye. "You've never met Kolya…"
"No," Rodney snapped again, eyes a bright burning blue, "but I cleaned up after his lackeys decided to use John as target practice, remember?"
Nodding, Ronon stuffed his hands in his pockets. "John's not going to like you interfering."
"Well that's just too fucking bad because I am not about to let him get himself killed…again."
"We can't die," Ronon shrugged.
Rodney growled, making Ronon smirk. "I don't care, that's not the point. The point is that we can still get hurt and John has this fucking martyr complex or something and seems to think that scum like this Kolya deserve, just by the mere fact that they are still alive, to get away with it, as long as it's John's undead ass getting hurt."
Ronon grunted his agreement, turning down an alleyway, leaving Rodney's steps to falter before he changed directions, following Ronon. "So are you going to help me or what?"
"What's the plan?" Ronon asked, pulling the yellow post-it note from his pocket and glancing at it before shoving it back in his coat.
"Well," Rodney started, fumbling a little. "I haven't really worked the details out just yet-I wanted to make sure I could convince you to help first." He looked a little sheepish, shrugging before he slipped back into his normal arrogant mask. "But I'll come up with something brilliant, don't you worry. Kolya won't know what hit him."
"You gonna kill him?"
Ronon stuck out a hand, brushing past a homeless man dressed in rags, taking his soul and continuing down the alley. Rodney looked back, watching as the man began coughing, collapsing to his knees before falling to the side. Suddenly he was walking beside them. Ronon clapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the lights ahead of them. A huge house, warmly lit filled the end of the alley and a woman and boy about 4 years old stood standing on the front steps waving and smiling at the man as he began running toward them.
With a blink the homeless man and his lights were gone.
Rodney shook his head. "I don't want to kill him," he said quietly. "But John is my only concern."
Ronon nodded, slapping Rodney on the back before pointing left. "We're going to need some stuff."
-----
Daniel smiled politely at Catherine-this was the third time this week that she had brought him cookies. Out of nowhere she said, "I want you to meet my granddaughter," completely ignoring Daniel's 'deer-in-the-headlights' look as she continued. "She's a sweet girl, loves history and archaeology in particular; I think you'd get along wonderfully. She's about your age, tall, thin, blonde…"
"Catherine," Daniel began but she cut him off.
"I'm not taking no for an answer," she said affectionately. "Daniel, you spend too much time cooped up in this stuffy old museum. You're too young not to have a life outside of these dusty walls."
Daniel smiled. "I appreciate your concern, Catherine," he grinned. "But I like this stuffy old museum, dusty walls and all."
She huffed out a put upon sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Very well, but if you change your mind I know Sarah would love to meet you."
"I'll keep that in mind," he laughed, shaking his head and biting into a cookie. He was a sucker for Catherine's famous chocolate chip.
When she left his office he returned to the notebook open before him on the table. He stared at the entries dating back to his very first reap. He'd started keeping it and couldn't seem to stop. It was full of his observations and his speculations about the afterlife, about the small amounts of information he'd gleaned from each of his reaps-about their lives before death, about what they saw waiting for them.
The others thought he was crazy to wonder about it all. Jack had told him once that there was no point wondering or worrying, when it was Daniel's time he'd get his own lights and all his questions would be answered.
Daniel wondered how long he would have to wait before that happened, before he met his quota and his own lights waited for him.
-----
Ronon grinned broadly and Rodney rolled his eyes. "Do you really think we need walkie-talkies?" The look Ronon gave him had Rodney sighing dramatically and adding the walkie-talkies to the already huge stack of 'stuff' Ronon said they needed in order to protect John. Rodney was beginning to think that Ronon was just using this as excuse to trick Rodney into going on a shopping spree for some cool new toys for him because if there was one thing Rodney knew, it was that Ronon could take down anyone with his bare hands. There was no way they needed all of this stuff.
"Alright," Rodney groused. "That's enough, I am officially broke."
Ronon snorted and tossed a shiny bowie knife on top of the pile and clapped Rodney on the shoulder. "Meet you outside."
"Yes, yes," Rodney muttered. "Don't worry about me, it's not like I have a bad back or anything."
When Rodney stumbled out of the military store Ronon had just spent $1300 in, he shoved the bags at the man leaning against the front of the building. "I bought it, you can carry it," Rodney snapped, twisting this way and that after his hands were empty. Ronon just rolled his eyes.
Rodney let Ronon take all the supplies home because he didn't want John to see anything and get suspicious. Rodney headed back to the apartment, desperately wanting a shower, a pot of coffee, and John naked and writhing underneath him.
When he walked into the apartment, Rodney's breath caught in his throat. John was up against the wall, a towel around his hips and there was a gorilla of a man pressed against his back, his hand reaching for the towel around John's waist. "What the fuck is going on here?" Rodney snapped, watching as the man pinning John to the wall turned to face him. He had cold dead eyes, his face pock-marked and scarred. The man released John, taking a step back with an ugly smile on his face.
"Rodney," John said quietly, his voice low and dangerous. "Wait in the bedroom."
"Yes, Rodney," the man parroted, "Wait in the bedroom, John and I aren't quite done…"
"Like hell you aren't!" Rodney yelled, yanking the front door open again. "Get the fuck out of our apartment." He didn't need introductions to know who this man was.
Kolya smirked. "Cozy," he drawled, voice nothing but gravel. "Remember what I said, John," Kolya said quietly, dead eyes locked on John's before they traveled down his body leaving Rodney feeling queasy. And then he marched toward the door, giving Rodney a twisted grin before closing the door silently behind him.
John sagged against the wall; head tilted back, eyes closed. Rodney was so mad he was pretty sure if he wasn't already dead he'd be stroking out about now. "What the fuck was he doing here?" Rodney asked, the panic he'd managed to hide from Kolya beginning to seep into his voice.
"Don't worry about it," John said quietly, not meeting Rodney's eyes as he pushed off the wall. "I'm going to go get dressed."
"John…" Rodney started but John was already in his room, the door closing, shutting Rodney out.
Rodney paced the living room for a few minutes before rushing into his bedroom, reaching for his cell phone and closing the door. He quickly dialed Ronon's number. "It's me," he said as soon as Ronon picked up. "Kolya was just here."
Ronon growled out that he was on his way and hung up. Rodney sat on his bed feeling completely useless and so scared he couldn't think past the image of John, almost naked and vulnerable with fucking Kolya plastered to his back. If he hadn't just walked in… But no, he couldn't think like that, didn't want to think about that because if he let himself think about it he knew Ronon wouldn't get the chance to do anything to Kolya because Rodney would kill the bastard himself for daring to lay a hand on John.
John's bedroom door opened and Rodney was on his feet before he could think twice. "John…"
"I've got to go out," John said, throwing Rodney a grin. "Don't wait up."
"Stop!" Rodney yelled, surprised when John actually did. "You expect me to just let you go after what I just walked in on?"
"I can take care of myself, McKay," John growled, eyes narrowing dangerously. "It's none of your business."
"None of my business?" Rodney snapped. "None of my business that I just walked into our apartment to see you pinned against the wall, naked with some fucking psychopath plastered to your back? None of my business that my lover could have been…"
"Don't!" John shouted, holding his hand up. He took a step closer, eyes pleading, voice soft. "Rodney, please…just…don't…let it go, okay?"
Rodney crossed the space separating them, pulling John into a rough hug. "Jesus," he hissed. "How can you ask me to let this go?"
John wrapped his arms around Rodney, burying his face against Rodney's neck. "Because I'm asking and I need you to," he answered quietly. "I can handle Kolya."
"What are you going to do?" Rodney asked, pulling back and wrapping his arms around himself, his eyes wide and frightened.
John winked. "I'll think of something."
"You don't get to just say that and walk out of here," Rodney snapped. "You haven't thought of a good way to deal with this yet, what's different now?"
"Kolya was here to remind me to show up tonight," John admitted. "And that's exactly what I intend to do."
"Because you're the suicidal undead?" Rodney spat angrily. "Seriously, are you completely unhinged?"
"Kolya thinks I have something he wants," John said. "I don't. Once he realizes that, he'll stop, and it's over. He'll forget all about me just like everyone else--we fade, Rodney. We're the figures they see out of the corners of their eyes. The ones they don't remember once they make it home and lock the door behind them."
"I don't feel dead, John," Rodney said quietly. "I don't. I've got a heartbeat, you know. I feel pain. Pleasure. I've got the same mind I've always had. And so you'll forgive me if I don't want to just fade away!"
John turned away with a sigh. "I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I don't..."
"Them," Rodney repeated. "You keep saying 'them.' We were them, you know, living. And we're still here now. We're here for a reason."
"Exactly," John said. "We're here to take their souls. This isn't borrowed time, this is punishment."
Rodney looked like he'd been struck. "Is that what you really think?"
John pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes, before dropping them agitatedly and turning back to Rodney. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Rodney, in my life, in my unlife, ever, but that doesn't change what we are."
"And what are we?" Rodney asked quietly.
"We're dead," John said. Then he turned and went out the door.
-----
Daniel used to be terrified of heights. It never stopped him scaling Pyramids anyway, but still, he was terrified.
He wondered what would happen if he fell now his body couldn’t break. He leaned out over the edge, squinting towards the ground. There was that edge of vertigo still. He wasn't cured completely, even knowing he'd survive, if only to stay as he was.
He leaned back away again and pushed his hands back into his pockets.
"You know, I almost didn't notice."
Daniel spun around at the voice. Jack was leaning against the roof entrance door, staring up at the moon.
"Notice what?" Daniel asked.
"You," Jack said. "Slipping into one of your moods again. I see you've started a new journal."
"I ran out of pages in the last one," Daniel said.
Jack laughed and shook his head. "And you're worrying about me."
"I don't keep things to myself like you," Daniel said. "Writing is cathartic."
"It's more than that. You just can't help yourself, can you?" Jack asked. "I remember watching you before you died. You were so completely absorbed inside your own thoughts you didn't even hear them shouting for you to get out of the way."
Daniel shrugged. "If we learn anything in this job, Jack, it's that we rarely get the death we expect."
Jack continued as though he hadn't spoken. "What worries me is you've got the same look in your eyes now that you had then."
There was a flash of bright blue in the distance, like a tear in the sky. It was only lightening, but it caught Daniel's focus and held it there. "You've been doing this forever," Daniel said, almost dreamily. "Don't you want to know what's next?"
Jack let out a heavy breath, before grabbing Daniel's sleeve and giving him a push back inside. "No, I don't," he said.
-----
Rodney opened the door and Ronon stood there like Rambo, a rifle thrown over his back and pistol about three times the size the one Rodney had hanging loosely from one hand. Mrs. Troscky from next door stood looking through the what little space the chain on her door would allow, protectively holding her cat.
She slammed it shut the moment Rodney made eye contact. Rodney sighed. "You missed him," he said. "John's gone, too."
Ronon looked disappointed, and he held the pistol against his chest, almost as though he were consoling it.
"John's still planning to meet him tonight," Rodney said, before turning and moving back into the apartment. He fell down on the couch and placed his head in his hands. "I don't think I can help him."
Ronon kicked the door closed behind them and jumped up to sit on the counter, setting his pistol by the airplane cookie jar Jack had bought as a housewarming gift. "I can help him," Ronon said. "People are really easy to kill. Only took eight bullets to take me down. My gun's special made. It's got twelve."
Rodney winced. "Okay, not what I meant," he snapped. "John, he's screwed up. He thinks he's being punished."
"Maybe he is," Ronon said.
Rodney glared at him and surged back to his feet. "He didn't do anything wrong!"
"Doesn't mean he's not being punished," Ronon said. "All those light shows we see? They each make their own. We make our own hell too, McKay."
"So I'm his hell then?" Rodney asked. "Because it's not like that for me, and I can't keep doing this."
Ronon rolled his eyes. "It's not about you," he said. "Or it is."
"Do you have to work at being this unhelpful?" Rodney snapped.
"What I mean is, John thinks he's being punished right? Then you come along, first time in maybe forever he's happy, doesn't know how to deal. Thinks he doesn't deserve it. Thinks, how can I screw my unlife up? Enter Kolya."
Rodney blinked. "That's possibly the most simplified bit of exposition I've ever heard."
Ronon shrugged. "It's a gift."
Rodney bit his lip, then raised his eyes to meet Ronon's. "I don't know where he's gone."
Ronon jumped down from the counter. "I do," he said. "Been there once before."
-----
Kolya was waiting for him when he arrived, Sora just behind him. Kolya grinned smugly at John. "Where's your guard dog gone?"
"I came alone, like you asked," John said, glancing at Sora and back. "See you brought back-up, though. You planning to hide behind her if things get out of hand?"
Kolya glared at him. "Leave," he said, motioning Sora to leave. Sora glared at him for a moment, but did as she was told. "Is that better?"
"Follow her out," John said. "That would be better."
Kolya laughed. "You don't change, John, I'll give you that."
"I can say the same about you," John said. "And to clarify, it's not a compliment."
Kolya pulled out a gun and unceremoniously shot John in the chest. John staggered back, hitting the concrete with a thud and an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu. He coughed up blood and then laughed. "Haven't we done this already?" he asked.
Kolya walked over to him, staring down unemotionally. Then he dropped down to his knees beside John and ripped his shirt open to examine the wound. The bullet wound was obvious, still gushing blood, and Kolya frowned.
"What happens now?" he asked.
John closed his eyes. "Probably not what you're expecting," he said. "I'm not what you think."
"The other night," Kolya said. "They told me they shot you three times, but by my count you've only got one bullet in you."
"I wear a vest on jobs," John ground out, "but then, I've told you that before."
"You're not wearing one now."
"My fault for trusting you," he said.
"You don't," Kolya said. "You never have."
Kolya tilted his head as the bleeding slowed. He ran the palm of his hand over John's chest, ignoring his gasp of pain, and wiped the blood clear of the wound. It was half closed already. Kolya grabbed John by what was left of his shirt and pulled him to his feet, slamming him into the wall. "What the hell are you?" he asked.
"Not really a question I'm qualified to answer," John told him, letting himself rest against the wall, breathing hard. "You're not going to give up, are you?"
Kolya grabbed John's chin, forcing him to look at him. "I've been studying you. You can take life with a touch," he said.
"Maybe you should back off then," John said.
Kolya laughed. "But not from me," he continued. "You've never been able to hurt me. You would have killed me long before now if you could. Do you know what that means?"
"You're going to count yourself as lucky and move to Tijuana?" John asked.
"It means I have power over you," Kolya said. "It means you belong to me now."
Kolya's hand wrapped around John's neck, cutting off any response. Kolya grinned manically. "You never should have turned me down, John."
-----
Rodney staggered off the back of Ronon's motorcycle, pulling the helmet off with a sound of distress. "You're insane," he said. "You almost hit that truck head on. We aren't going to be any good to John if we're plastered on a windshield."
Ronon just looked amused. "You said to go fast."
"That was when I thought you had a car...not not this thing--" Rodney cut himself off as Ronon raised his gun and aimed it at him. "Okay, sorry, wow, I won't insult the motorcycle, it's...lovely, really--"
"McKay, shut up," Ronon said, "and move out of my line of fire."
Rodney spun around and then backed up towards Ronon. A woman with red hair stood just a few feet away, aiming a small gun at them. "You'll want to be leaving," she said. "My boss doesn't want to be disturbed."
"That so," Ronon said. Then he threw his pistol like it was a boomerang and hit her in the head. It clattered to the ground as she fell into a heap. Ronon walked over and picked his weapon up, nudging her with his foot.
"You just--" Rodney started. "You threw it."
"She was annoying me," Ronon said. He dusted his weapon off and examined it closely, making sure it hadn't been damaged at all by her skull. "Looks okay."
"Better than her," Rodney agreed, kneeling beside her. She was out cold.
The night lit up for a moment in another flash of lightening, and Ronon turned back to the building ahead of them and the large, wide open hanger doors. "They'll be in there," he said.
"I can't believe John's never taken me here," Rodney said. "All this time and I never asked to see where he worked."
"Doesn't like bringing people here," Ronon said. "Wouldn't have asked me to come if he hadn't needed me to."
"Why?" Rodney asked.
"Not sure," Ronon said. "Maybe because it's the one part of his past he choose to keep."
The sound of a gunshot brought their conversation to an abrupt halt. Rodney started running without checking to make sure Ronon was behind him, never stopping to wonder what he thought he could do on his own.
Rodney made it to the hanger doors and skid to a stop inside. The lights on the left side were flickering in and out, but the ones above Kolya and John remained steady and Rodney could see them both perfectly clear.
John was gasping around the blood slicked fingers clutching at his throat, and Kolya was smiling, smiling; probably shot John again just to see if he'd still bleed, and Rodney was glad it was Ronon holding the gun, because if he had it in his hands he'd gladly cross lines he'd never even skirted before.
John's eyes flickered in his direction, a little glazed from pain, though unafraid. Rodney would rather he was terrified, because this quiet acceptance was so much worse, split his heart apart that little bit further, and when this was over he was going to tell John he doesn't deserve this, that he doesn't have to pay some price in blood for things he never had any control over anyway; and he was going to whisper that he was important into every place on his skin.
Rodney took this all in, felt this all, in some kind of small eternity, and then Ronon was swinging into the doors behind him and raising his gun. Kolya didn't even have the chance to turn in their direction and the gunshot was ringing in Rodney's ears, sending a shockwave all the way down to his toes.
The bullet shot straight through one ear to the other and the sound of impact was sickening, but Rodney had spent all of this strange new life watching people die that probably didn't deserve it, and he didn't so much as twitch as Kolya went limp and hit the ground. Rodney knew that this particular death was more than the man deserved, and had it been convenient, he was sure Ronon would have made it slow.
Without someone to hold him up, John followed Kolya to the floor, leaving a streak of viscous red in a path down the wall behind him.
They all stayed frozen for a moment, watching Kolya, waiting for the world to stop turning; because this wasn't the way it worked. People didn't die without it being written on a ledger somewhere, or so Rodney had been told, and the air around him all felt too thin to breath in without suffocating.
Then Kolya started to convulse, and Rodney darted forward, grabbing at John under his arms and pulling him away. Ronon moved to stand in front of them both, lifting his gun and resting it on his shoulder as he stared Kolya down, almost as though he were daring him to come back to life, just so he could kill him again.
Kolya arched off the ground, but he wasn't moaning, and his eyes remained closed. Rodney could hear John's harsh breathing but everything else was deadly silent until a loud inhuman cry burst up from somewhere not of this world, and a small gremlin-like creature tore a path out of Koyla's flesh, and stood poised on the corpse, watching them with familiar eyes.
"What the fuck," John said, forcing the words through his bruised throat and echoing Rodney's thoughts. He held John a little tighter, and tugged them both a little further away.
Ronon just lowered his gun again to a good aim, and fired off three more rounds. They didn't touch the creature, went right through him instead, and Rodney could swear as it darted away, climbing straight up the walls, that it was smiling.
-----
Daniel wasn't where he left him. Jack sighed. It was hardly anything new.
Last time he'd checked Daniel had been asleep in the guest room, but the sheets had been kicked into an untidy pile at the foot of the bed and it was empty. After wandering the rooms, Jack finally found him standing on the balcony in the pouring rain, barefoot and only wearing his sweats.
Jack opened the door. "Daniel, get inside."
Daniel's eyes were far away, arms wrapped defensively around himself. He was blinking the rain out of his eyes and didn't turn at the sound of Jack's voice. "There has to be more than this," he said.
He closed his eyes. Jack stepped out beside him, letting himself get just as soaked. "Maybe there is," Jack said. "We'll all know for sure when we're ready."
"I'm way past ready," Daniel said. "I've seen everything I've ever wanted to see. I've done everything I've ever wanted to do. Learned almost all that's left to learn."
"Always something new to learn, Danny," Jack said. "Learned that from you."
Daniel laughed, but still didn't look at him. "Why are we chosen? Is it random? Or are we the ones with unfinished business?" Daniel finally turned to face him. "Maybe we are supposed to interfere. Whatever higher power is pulling the strings has to know we can't resist, can't just stand by and--"
"And what, Daniel?" Jack asked.
Daniel turned away again. "Watch everyone else get their ending."
"Come inside," Jack said again.
"I can't keep doing this, Jack," Daniel said quietly.
"I know, but come inside."
Daniel followed Jack in, but not without one backwards glance at the storm-laden sky.
-----
Rodney doesn't know how long he stayed sitting on that concrete floor with John pressed against him and Ronon standing guard, but eventually he started moving again. Ronon helped them get home. Rodney helped John into the shower and helped him wrap a bandage around his chest and the entire time he didn't say a word and neither did John.
"Kolya's dead," John said finally, breaking their silence.
"Yeah," Rodney agreed.
"Ronon killed him," John continued. "Just...he didn't--"
"I would have done the same thing," Rodney told him.
John placed his head in his hands. "But why? I'm not--"
"Not worth it?" Rodney asked dangerously. "I'm getting sick of this, John. You said it, you're already dead, so your suicidal tendencies just come off as pathetic."
"That's not what this is," John protested.
"If you ever do anything like that again," Rodney started. "Well, let's just say I'm not sure I'd be able to forgive you for it. I'd still want you safe, but I don't think I even trust you as it is."
John shook his head. "The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you, Rodney. I just thought, I thought I could talk to him. Don't you get it? I've got enough blood on my hands already."
Rodney kneeled in front of him, grabbing his hands. "I've learned a lot since the day I died. I want you to listen, because this is important. Firstly, life is short. Secondly, people are just as stupid as I always suspected. Third, they can be more amazing then I ever imagined. Fourth, and most important, this isn't punishment, this isn't hell, and it isn't heaven."
"Then what is it?" John asked.
"A second chance," Rodney said, and then he leaned forward and kissed him.
John pulled Rodney up and beside him, resting his forehead against Rodney's neck before falling asleep. Rodney could never fall asleep that way, his brain was too awake the way it always was. He was always at his most brilliant after 1 A.M.
Rodney looked over at John, not sure if he'd made an impact at all, but not willing to give up yet. Rodney didn't think he was going to get another chance after this. This was it, and it was more painful and more perfect than he could have thought possible.
Rodney ran his fingers gently over the bruises around John's neck as he slept on. They were taking longer to fade than they were supposed to, and Rodney wondered if someone was trying to tell them something.