The Secret Life (Family) of John Sheppard 1a/?
Title: The Secret Life (Family) of John Sheppard: official Chaper One
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Rating: PG-15 for language
Word Count: Chapter One only = 5,793
Genre: Series, Angst, AU
Link to all parts: Previous Short Stories & future entries
Summary: Set between The Seige Part 3 and The Intruder: Rodney hasn't seen John Sheppard - co-father of their children - in months. Now he turns up threatening to turn his life upset down and break his heart all over again.
AN// Thanks so much to schrittempo for all you have done, Drine! This story would not exist as it is without you - and you know how true that is!
Chapter One
Rodney’s life changed the night John left. At first he was blind angry at John. How could he leave Rodney and their children? Five plus years of commitment and suddenly he just walked out on them? On him? Anger soon faded when he saw Meredith’s trembling lip as she asked when ‘daddy John’ was coming home. Then he was left with despair as he attempted to find an explanation that other than ‘John loves getting shot at more than he loves us’ (okay; so maybe he was still a little bit angry). That wasn’t a fair statement, and even if it was true Rodney knew it was his job as Mere’s parent not to let her believe that. So he sat Mere and Cash down, despite the fact that Cash was really too young to assimilate the information, and told them that ‘daddy John’ had to go fight bad guys so Mere, Cash, and Misha would be safe and grow up happy. It wasn’t so far from the truth, but that didn’t help Rodney in the middle of the night when Mere had nightmares and he had no one to turn to, no one to listen to his confession that he wasn’t sure he could do this, be a parent - let alone a good parent. Some days he thought he would crack under the pressure of potty training, baby puke, and crocodile tears, but he guessed it still beat dealing with fifty too-stupid-to-live scientists slowing down the progress of science. He guessed at the end of the day, that had to count for something even if John was no longer there to tell him it counted.
Rodney thought the first six months were the hardest. The house was oppressively silent at night, except when Meredith had a nightmare or Cash wet himself. The kids soon learnt not to ask Rodney about John because they saw that it upset him so much, even if he tried to hide it from them. Unfortunately Rodney was a failure when it came to lying, his pain was written plainly on his face. Cash had his first war wound (a broken arm) and Rodney had been so scared he’d yelled and forgot to hug Cash until the poor child was screaming in tears. Meredith had had her first day of school, which had fared better for her than for Rodney who felt like she was growing up too fast - couldn’t she just stay a little girl for a while longer? - and Misha had both his first birthday and his first word. But while the first six months were rough, it was nothing compared to the day that Rodney got the letter informing him of John’s death.
“Daddy is a hero,” Meredith told her classmates at school. “He is busy being brave but I wish he was home more,” and Rodney’s heart broke. Telling her John would never come home was literally the hardest thing Rodney had ever done. Mere didn’t cry, but Cash did, which set Misha off, even though Misha didn’t understand any of this, he was too young, too damn young to even remember John for a hero or a father. For the next six weeks, Mere didn’t say a word. She missed eighteen days of classes and Rodney took her to the doctors seven times before declaring they were useless, and Googling every medical problem that was slightly related to muteness, before admitting that it was just a response to the grief that Mere, at only five years old, couldn’t express.
Then four weeks later, it was a different story all together. Everything he knew was a lie and the world was going to implode because John was alive and back and Rodney was so very, very screwed.
….
John, His John, was standing at his front door looking older and world weary and way more alive than Rodney had ever dreamed to see him again. His first instinct was to kiss that man until his lips were sore and his lungs burned with the need to take a breath because yes, John really was here, his heart still beating and his hair still doing that ridiculously messy thing it did that Cash had inherited. His second instinct was to punch him.
“Aw!” Rodney moaned a second later, and clutched his now throbbing hand to his chest. That had hurt a lot more than TV actors and boxers made it look like it would.
“Aw? You just punched me!” John complained, his voice the exact same whiney American drawl it had always been. Nothing had sounded better to McKay - ever.
“Well… you deserved it! You’re supposed to be dead!” Rodney yelled, attracting an alarmed glare from one of his busy body neighbours.
“Well I’m not,” John replied with a slight smugness to his voice.
“I can see that. My hand can feel that. One hundred percent not dead and very, very solid. Do you work out?” Rodney asked suspiciously, because no one who was over thirty five should have abs that hard (and yes, Rodney punched him in the abdomen because he figured it would be less painful, for Rodney, and raise less questions as to where the bruise that John probably wouldn’t even get had come from) unless they worked out and drank that ‘muscle builder’ shit that was always being advertised on TV.
“I get a run in every morning,” John said, modestly. “It’s good to see you, Rodney.” There was genuine warmth in John’s hazel eyes, but Rodney was kind of stuck at ‘oh god, he’s’ alive’ and ‘that fucker’, because of course if anyone could come back from death, John Sheppard could.
“Really? Then why did it take you so long to come back!” Rodney bit back, his anger remembered even if the shock and sheer gladness hadn’t worn off yet.
“I came back as soon as I could, Rodney, I promise,” Sheppard said, his voice soothing and sincere when Rodney wished it was irate so he could continue to be mad at him. Really, all he wanted to do was hug John, and maybe kiss him and do other less than PG things, things that would get them both arrested if he did them to John on the doorstep of his respectable Canadian suburban house. Anger was better, safer. He needed to remember how much John had hurt him, so he would never be hurt like that again. So his children wouldn’t be hurt like that again.
“I…” John took a deep breath and turned hopeful eyes on Rodney, “are the children here?”
Rodney’s expression turned sheepish. “Mere’s at school but the boys are in the house. The thing is… I told them you were dead,” he confessed, feeling guilty for some stupid reason. It had been the only responsible thing to do at the time, Rodney had thought he’d had all the facts and he hadn’t wanted to let the children hold on to false hope. He should have known the American military couldn’t be trusted with important information like confirmation of death.
John’s face tightened. “You told them I was dead?”
“I thought you were dead! What was I supposed to do, lie to them!” With every word his voice had increased in volume until Rodney realised he was shouting and interfering nosy neighbour Mrs Cole was probably calling the police right this minute. “Look, this isn’t the place to argue. I… just give me some time to explain to them and then you can see them,” Rodney said. Mere had only been using complete sentences for a week now, and still spent most of her time drawing black and white pictures that the psychologist that the school had insisted on her seeing said was a bad sign. He needed to prepare her for the shock. She’d be happy, but well, it wasn’t every day your father came back from the dead.
“How much time?” John asked with gritted teeth, obviously trying to calm himself down. Most people thought John Sheppard was a laid back easy going surf board type of guy, but the truth was that while he did enjoy surfing, some of it was just a ruse to hide behind. He had a temper, and he had the ability to kill someone in cold blood. Not Rodney, it would have to be someone really bad, but Rodney didn’t doubt that the capability was there. It had never worried him though, because he knew John would never hurt their kids. Not physically, anyway.
“Is there a limit?” Rodney guessed accurately, not pleased in any way. How dare he come back and get his hopes up only to leave again.
“I’m on leave. The mission is under review… I’m not sure what their findings will be, but there is a chance I’ll be sent back. But it won’t be like before, we have set up better communication now and I’m not about to disappear for months on end again. I promise,” John said, but there was a flicker of something in John’s hazel eyes that made Rodney doubt his words for the first time since they had met. It made him feel uneasy.
“Yes, but see your promise would have meant so much more before you skipped out on me and your offspring. Now you’re going to have to work for our trust,” Rodney told him, not trying to hurt John (well, not trying hard) but he had always been honest and saw no need to change now. Rodney started to head back inside.
“When are you going to tell them, McKay?” John yelled at his retreating back.
Rodney paused, warily. “Come by tomorrow… it’s a Saturday so Mere doesn’t have school.” And then he closed the door, and breathed.
The next day John returned and spent more than half an hour hovering outside the house before the glare of a next door neighbour forced him to knock on the door before he looked any more suspicious. Within seconds the door swung open, revealing a boy who stood as high as John’s knees with a cap of spiky brown hair and bright shiny blue eyes.
“Who’re you?” Cash asked, and John felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. His own son didn’t recognise him. Although John really had no reason to expect otherwise, Cash had only been just two years when he had left.
“Albert Johnny McKay! What have I told you about answering the door to strangers!” Rodney’s familiar voice thundered from behind the door.
“S’not a stranger, daddy,” Cash replied, far more coherently than he had been able to when John had last seen him.
“It’s not a stranger, Cash,” Rodney corrected his son, “who is it then?”
“One of Sam’s friends,” Cash informed him as he swung on the door handle. Rodney’s arms came into view as he picked the toddler up and out of view.
“Oh it - seriously, do you not have any other clothes?” Rodney opened the door wider and gestured to the air force casuals that John was wearing. John felt himself flush but easily defended himself.
“Not really, I left them all in Colorado,” he drawled, with heavy implication. He had left them all at the house he had shared with Rodney before Atlantis, before space vampires and psychic ships and almost dying.
Rodney looked awkwardly ashamed for a second - which let John know that Rodney had chucked his clothes and belongings out (before or after he’d believed John dead?), until the anger resurfaced. John guessed that this was what it would be like between them for a while, the relief that John was alive battling with Rodney’s pain at being abandoned for something he didn’t have the proper security clearance to understand. They would both muddle through; for the kids.
“You have told them the truth, right?” John asked, suddenly nervous about seeing Meredith, Cash, and Misha again for the first time in eight months. He’d been a solider, a light switch, a leader, even a negotiator but never a lover nor a father in those months. His biggest fear was never being either of those things again.
Rodney’s mouth tightened, and John knew he was biting back an abrasive retort for the sake of not starting a fight. He sighed, heavily. “Look, John, your truth and my truth… let’s not go there just yet. I’m glad - more glad than you realise - that you are alive, but I’m also not over you leaving, or hearing you are dead… I just… all I’ve told them is that you didn’t die, it was a mistake, and you love them. Okay?”
John gulped, emotion choking his vocal chords. All he could do was nod gruffly. Then the door between them and the family room opened, and John was faced with the children he had left behind to save the world.
“Daddy?” Meredith said, her voice questioning as she looked from John to Rodney, and back again. John stared right back, he thought she might just be the most precious sight he had ever seen, way better than Atlantis from the air or even Earth from space. She hadn’t changed beyond recognition, but she was definitely more mature in her features. She still had the McKay blonde hair left loose around her shoulders, and what John assumed was Marie’s rosy cheeked complexion. Bow lips and eyes the same shape and size as Rodney’s even though they were velvet brown like Moon’s.
John realised he had been staring, and that Rodney had been silent. Meredith’s forehead creased with a frown and John sent Rodney a well disguised glare that Rodney missed altogether because he too was staring at Meredith, his breathing hitched and his hands screwed up in fists next to his thighs. John tried to calm his impatience, this wasn’t easy for Rodney either.
Rodney finally got his breathing under control, and nodded at Meredith who took this as a sign to approach John. The hesitance in her steps showed just how much John’s absence had hurt her, and how much fear she had within her tiny child heart that it would only happen again. Words wouldn’t fix this mess, John could only prove to them that he intended to be there for them with actions. Prove to Rodney that he was serious about it too, because it was clear from the expression on his face that Rodney felt the same fear that Meredith did.
“If you ever hurt her like this again…” Rodney whispered, injecting as much venom and pain into his words that he could at that volume.
“I won’t,” John swore, but he only had eyes for his daughter as she finally reached him. He bent down and lifted her into his arms - she was heavier now and his back would hurt later, but he was still fairly fit, he couldn’t afford not to be considering how many times running had saved his life. John held his breath as Meredith considered him up close, and released it with relief when her tiny arms encircled his neck and her head found its way snugly into the crook between his shoulder and neck. He closed his eyes in bliss, and breathed in deep the smell that was Meredith and daughter and home. This was why he had lived when so many others hadn’t.
Rodney swallowed a great lump of emotion and moved towards Cash and Misha, both who had been watching the touching exchange, even Misha - at seventeen months old - seemed to understand that this was something huge. Rodney sat in the chair nearest to them, and they both immediately climbed onto him seeking refuge in his lap. He was glad, hugged them close and prayed that letting John back into their lives - and by default his own - wouldn’t come back to kick him in the ass.
John spent the day there, and slowly Rodney relaxed enough in his presence for Misha to feel enough at ease to approach John and play with him. By dinner all the children were coming out of their shells, and while John didn’t truly feel like a father again he was enjoying watching the children he loved as they played and yelled. Dinner was a rushed affair, with Cash sleepily chewing his food and Misha clinging to Rodney, although from Rodney’s reaction that seemed to be a common occurrence and not a reaction to John’s unfamiliar presence at the dinner table. Meredith curled up with John on the sofa and insisted he read her stories from the unabridged Brother’s Grimm book while Rodney put Cash and Misha to bed.
Meredith had joined her younger brother’s in the land of nod by the time John’s cell rang. He glared at it in frustration, knowing he should pick it up and yet unable to do so, unwilling to let the fantasy of ‘normal’ and ‘family’ die just yet.
“Oh for god sakes, just answer it!” Rodney snapped. He was standing at the sink not five feet away from John, washing the dishes and looking bone tired even as he folded his arms over his broad chest and stared at John with a challenge on his face.
“Fine, I will,” John replied childishly, and flipped the phone open. “Sheppard.”
“John?” Elizabeth’s voice rang out clearly on the other line. Shit. This was what he had been trying to avoid. He had finally gotten Rodney alone and his obligation was interrupting them. He sighed heavily.
“Elizabeth. How can I help you?” He asked, making his voice light and care free when all he wanted to do was curse and beg Rodney not to think this phone call was more important than him.
“I need to talk to you. I have an interesting proposition for you,” she sounded like the cat who’d gotten the cream. John was curious, but he was also dreading what she had to tell him. Elizabeth was a woman worth respect, and in John’s experience the only politician worth listening to, but her first priority was what was best for the city - it’s people, history, and discoveries. What was ‘interesting’ to Elizabeth was good for the city, and John wasn’t sure that it would be good for him.
“Really? Do you want to tell me in person?” John asked, since she obviously wasn’t going to divulge the information over the phone.
“I do. Are you still in Colorado?” She asked, briskly efficient as ever.
“Not exactly. I’m staying with a friend… in Vancouver.” He replied evasively, hoping she would use her famous discretion and not pry into the details he was clearly trying to hide from her. In the background he heard the clash of dishes and winced, hating that Rodney was still in the room, probably taking his evasiveness in the worst possible way. John wasn’t ashamed of his family or his sexuality, he had no problem with Elizabeth knowing especially as she wasn’t military, but he was used to keeping things close to his chest, telling people private information about himself had never been his strong suit. He guessed it was the repercussions of growing up in a WASP household, after his mother had died it had all just gotten worse.
“Canada?” The surprise in her voice was unmistakable, as was the question.
“Yeah.”
“If you text me the address I can be there tomorrow afternoon,” Elizabeth continued, thankfully taking his lack of explanation as a hint not to press him any further. It was his favourite quality in a person, the ability to take a hint. Rodney, oddly enough, lacked his ability completely.
“Sure. Just tell me when your plane gets in. We’ll grab a late lunch,” he agreed uneasily, and hung up on his boss.
“So, you’re leaving already?” Rodney assumed, his voice tight with emotion even as he tried, and failed, to blank off his face. John had always loved that about Rodney, that unlike John and John’s family - particularly his father - Rodney couldn’t hide his emotions behind a mask of indifference. Their kids would never have to guess that Rodney loved them, they would know just by looking at him.
“Eager to see me go?” John said lightly.
“Damn it John!” Rodney yelled, and they both paused, bated breath, waiting to hear a wail or a sob or even the pitter-patter of tiny feet to indicate his yell had woken the children.
Nothing. Silence. They could breathe again.
“I have two weeks of ‘shore leave’, Rodney, I’m not disappearing yet,” John assured him before Rodney could get another word in edgeways.
“Right well… that’s good then… for the kids, I mean,” Rodney babbled, obviously a little embarrassed he’d yelled for no reason. John watched him, vaguely amused as Rodney’s cheeks flushed pink. “Well… I’ll be off to bed then,” he said, lamely.
“Rodney, it’s not even nine pm yet!” John pointed out. Back before John had left they had just about settled into a pattern with Misha finally sleeping through the night. They’d put the children to bed by seven, have their own supper - because feeding three small children didn’t leave sufficient time to eat themselves - and clean up the considerable mess that the kids (and Rodney) made during the day before settling down for a movie. They had been too knackered to actually get any work one - astrophysics had taken a backseat to getting peace and quiet for a few hours.
“Yes, well -” Rodney was a terrible liar, everyone knew this, but he didn’t exactly know how to come out and say ‘as glad as I am that you’re alive, I want to be alone right now and freak the hell out because you left me, and now you’re back’.
John got up from the kitchen table, making his way silently towards Rodney who backed into the sick uneasily. “I… maybe we could just sit… like we used to?” John suggested, his voice a mere whisper.
Rodney felt like his heart was beating loud enough to wake the children, flashes of memories of sweet kisses on the couch, lying entwined with John as they discussed their days. He swallowed, his throat dry. “I can’t do this,” he gasped out when John had finally reached him, his hand hovering inches from Rodney’s face.
John paused, his jaw ticked and he stepped away with a suddenness that seemed abrupt after his slow seductive walk. “Is it because of ‘Sam’?” He asked.
The mood was broken. Rodney’s face showed nothing but confusion as he puzzled over where the hell that question had come from. “What?”
“I asked if you’d found some other flyboy to fill your bed? Is that what I was, just a pretty uniform to fulfil your fantasies with?” John asked, his eyes dark and voice tight.
“If you think that then you can get the fuck out and never come back!” Rodney bit back at him, his own temper rising. What right of it was John’s who he saw? John may be the father of his children, but damn it he had left, and Rodney had believed he was dead. If he had moved on then it would be none of John’s business!
John looked like he had been slapped. “I… I’m sorry. I know that I don’t have the right to… I’ll leave now,” he said, running his hand through his irrepressible mop of brown hair, looking more tired and older than Rodney had ever seen him before.
“Look, I won’t ask you, and you don’t ask me, okay? Let’s just make that deal, for the sake of the children. It’ll be better this way,” Rodney said, doubt filling his voice. Truthfully he just didn’t want to know what the answer would be if he asked the same questions. How many people had filled John’s bed while he had been fighting a classified war so far from home that he couldn’t even telegram his family to let them know he was still alive, still thinking of them.
John nodded guiltily, and with one last lingering look left for the night. But a little voice at the back of his mind wondered what the answer would have been.
…
The next morning Rodney greeted him as if there had been no words of ill intent spoken, no moments of near intimacy shared. He acted as if John was nothing more to him than a distant relative. John would have applauded the man’s sudden talent in acting if it hadn’t frustrated him so much! How was he supposed to get close to Rodney if the man put up a wall of casual indifference? Still, the day wore on and the children were enchanting as they continued to let him into their lives. They truly were a blessing that he hadn’t expected in his life. He would miss them deeply when he left.
Shortly after lunch he received a text message from Elizabeth, telling him she would be arriving tomorrow morning at eleven am at the airport. They would do lunch at a café, talk about whatever it was that had her so excited. John was dreading it.
“Elizabeth,” he greeted her with a handshake. She smiled warmly at him, taking him by the arm and steering him in the direction of the exit. Most people took a few minutes to get their bearings in an airport, not Elizabeth. She must have travelled to as many places as John had, and a Canadian airport was simple to figure out after Iran and China, even with the masses of people floating around.
After fifteen minutes of pointless but polite chitchat about the weather, the SGC, and missing Atlantis, Elizabeth finally got to the point. “… you must have realised they would never allow a Major to run the military operation in Atlantis?” She told him, sipping her black coffee and watching him with hawk eyes.
“It crossed my mind,” John agreed casually, even though his heart tightened. He only had a few years left of service before he could retire, come home to Rodney and convince him they could be a family again. He did not want to face those few years with another unbearable commanding officer putting his life on the line for all the wrong reasons.
“Stargate Command have been brainstorming. Colonel Caldwell put his own name up for the position, and O’Neill suggested that maybe it was time for Colonel Carter to get her own position. Carter turned down the offer, she’s still in love with SG-1 and the Milky Way, but Caldwell is gunning for it,” she told him.
John didn’t even try to hide his wince. He knew right off that he and Caldwell wouldn’t get along. Caldwell was very… by the book. Just like Sumner, and look what ha happened to him. “What direction are they leaning in?” He asked.
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed with pleasure. “In my direction,” she admitted. John stared at her, nonplused. “John, they’re going to promote you!” She revealed.
John let it sink it, then an irrepressible grin spread across his face. “Cool,” he said, grinning like a twelve year old at Christmas.
~Chapter One B~
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Rating: PG-15 for language
Word Count: Chapter One only = 5,793
Genre: Series, Angst, AU
Link to all parts: Previous Short Stories & future entries
Summary: Set between The Seige Part 3 and The Intruder: Rodney hasn't seen John Sheppard - co-father of their children - in months. Now he turns up threatening to turn his life upset down and break his heart all over again.
AN// Thanks so much to schrittempo for all you have done, Drine! This story would not exist as it is without you - and you know how true that is!
Chapter One
Rodney’s life changed the night John left. At first he was blind angry at John. How could he leave Rodney and their children? Five plus years of commitment and suddenly he just walked out on them? On him? Anger soon faded when he saw Meredith’s trembling lip as she asked when ‘daddy John’ was coming home. Then he was left with despair as he attempted to find an explanation that other than ‘John loves getting shot at more than he loves us’ (okay; so maybe he was still a little bit angry). That wasn’t a fair statement, and even if it was true Rodney knew it was his job as Mere’s parent not to let her believe that. So he sat Mere and Cash down, despite the fact that Cash was really too young to assimilate the information, and told them that ‘daddy John’ had to go fight bad guys so Mere, Cash, and Misha would be safe and grow up happy. It wasn’t so far from the truth, but that didn’t help Rodney in the middle of the night when Mere had nightmares and he had no one to turn to, no one to listen to his confession that he wasn’t sure he could do this, be a parent - let alone a good parent. Some days he thought he would crack under the pressure of potty training, baby puke, and crocodile tears, but he guessed it still beat dealing with fifty too-stupid-to-live scientists slowing down the progress of science. He guessed at the end of the day, that had to count for something even if John was no longer there to tell him it counted.
Rodney thought the first six months were the hardest. The house was oppressively silent at night, except when Meredith had a nightmare or Cash wet himself. The kids soon learnt not to ask Rodney about John because they saw that it upset him so much, even if he tried to hide it from them. Unfortunately Rodney was a failure when it came to lying, his pain was written plainly on his face. Cash had his first war wound (a broken arm) and Rodney had been so scared he’d yelled and forgot to hug Cash until the poor child was screaming in tears. Meredith had had her first day of school, which had fared better for her than for Rodney who felt like she was growing up too fast - couldn’t she just stay a little girl for a while longer? - and Misha had both his first birthday and his first word. But while the first six months were rough, it was nothing compared to the day that Rodney got the letter informing him of John’s death.
“Daddy is a hero,” Meredith told her classmates at school. “He is busy being brave but I wish he was home more,” and Rodney’s heart broke. Telling her John would never come home was literally the hardest thing Rodney had ever done. Mere didn’t cry, but Cash did, which set Misha off, even though Misha didn’t understand any of this, he was too young, too damn young to even remember John for a hero or a father. For the next six weeks, Mere didn’t say a word. She missed eighteen days of classes and Rodney took her to the doctors seven times before declaring they were useless, and Googling every medical problem that was slightly related to muteness, before admitting that it was just a response to the grief that Mere, at only five years old, couldn’t express.
Then four weeks later, it was a different story all together. Everything he knew was a lie and the world was going to implode because John was alive and back and Rodney was so very, very screwed.
….
John, His John, was standing at his front door looking older and world weary and way more alive than Rodney had ever dreamed to see him again. His first instinct was to kiss that man until his lips were sore and his lungs burned with the need to take a breath because yes, John really was here, his heart still beating and his hair still doing that ridiculously messy thing it did that Cash had inherited. His second instinct was to punch him.
“Aw!” Rodney moaned a second later, and clutched his now throbbing hand to his chest. That had hurt a lot more than TV actors and boxers made it look like it would.
“Aw? You just punched me!” John complained, his voice the exact same whiney American drawl it had always been. Nothing had sounded better to McKay - ever.
“Well… you deserved it! You’re supposed to be dead!” Rodney yelled, attracting an alarmed glare from one of his busy body neighbours.
“Well I’m not,” John replied with a slight smugness to his voice.
“I can see that. My hand can feel that. One hundred percent not dead and very, very solid. Do you work out?” Rodney asked suspiciously, because no one who was over thirty five should have abs that hard (and yes, Rodney punched him in the abdomen because he figured it would be less painful, for Rodney, and raise less questions as to where the bruise that John probably wouldn’t even get had come from) unless they worked out and drank that ‘muscle builder’ shit that was always being advertised on TV.
“I get a run in every morning,” John said, modestly. “It’s good to see you, Rodney.” There was genuine warmth in John’s hazel eyes, but Rodney was kind of stuck at ‘oh god, he’s’ alive’ and ‘that fucker’, because of course if anyone could come back from death, John Sheppard could.
“Really? Then why did it take you so long to come back!” Rodney bit back, his anger remembered even if the shock and sheer gladness hadn’t worn off yet.
“I came back as soon as I could, Rodney, I promise,” Sheppard said, his voice soothing and sincere when Rodney wished it was irate so he could continue to be mad at him. Really, all he wanted to do was hug John, and maybe kiss him and do other less than PG things, things that would get them both arrested if he did them to John on the doorstep of his respectable Canadian suburban house. Anger was better, safer. He needed to remember how much John had hurt him, so he would never be hurt like that again. So his children wouldn’t be hurt like that again.
“I…” John took a deep breath and turned hopeful eyes on Rodney, “are the children here?”
Rodney’s expression turned sheepish. “Mere’s at school but the boys are in the house. The thing is… I told them you were dead,” he confessed, feeling guilty for some stupid reason. It had been the only responsible thing to do at the time, Rodney had thought he’d had all the facts and he hadn’t wanted to let the children hold on to false hope. He should have known the American military couldn’t be trusted with important information like confirmation of death.
John’s face tightened. “You told them I was dead?”
“I thought you were dead! What was I supposed to do, lie to them!” With every word his voice had increased in volume until Rodney realised he was shouting and interfering nosy neighbour Mrs Cole was probably calling the police right this minute. “Look, this isn’t the place to argue. I… just give me some time to explain to them and then you can see them,” Rodney said. Mere had only been using complete sentences for a week now, and still spent most of her time drawing black and white pictures that the psychologist that the school had insisted on her seeing said was a bad sign. He needed to prepare her for the shock. She’d be happy, but well, it wasn’t every day your father came back from the dead.
“How much time?” John asked with gritted teeth, obviously trying to calm himself down. Most people thought John Sheppard was a laid back easy going surf board type of guy, but the truth was that while he did enjoy surfing, some of it was just a ruse to hide behind. He had a temper, and he had the ability to kill someone in cold blood. Not Rodney, it would have to be someone really bad, but Rodney didn’t doubt that the capability was there. It had never worried him though, because he knew John would never hurt their kids. Not physically, anyway.
“Is there a limit?” Rodney guessed accurately, not pleased in any way. How dare he come back and get his hopes up only to leave again.
“I’m on leave. The mission is under review… I’m not sure what their findings will be, but there is a chance I’ll be sent back. But it won’t be like before, we have set up better communication now and I’m not about to disappear for months on end again. I promise,” John said, but there was a flicker of something in John’s hazel eyes that made Rodney doubt his words for the first time since they had met. It made him feel uneasy.
“Yes, but see your promise would have meant so much more before you skipped out on me and your offspring. Now you’re going to have to work for our trust,” Rodney told him, not trying to hurt John (well, not trying hard) but he had always been honest and saw no need to change now. Rodney started to head back inside.
“When are you going to tell them, McKay?” John yelled at his retreating back.
Rodney paused, warily. “Come by tomorrow… it’s a Saturday so Mere doesn’t have school.” And then he closed the door, and breathed.
The next day John returned and spent more than half an hour hovering outside the house before the glare of a next door neighbour forced him to knock on the door before he looked any more suspicious. Within seconds the door swung open, revealing a boy who stood as high as John’s knees with a cap of spiky brown hair and bright shiny blue eyes.
“Who’re you?” Cash asked, and John felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. His own son didn’t recognise him. Although John really had no reason to expect otherwise, Cash had only been just two years when he had left.
“Albert Johnny McKay! What have I told you about answering the door to strangers!” Rodney’s familiar voice thundered from behind the door.
“S’not a stranger, daddy,” Cash replied, far more coherently than he had been able to when John had last seen him.
“It’s not a stranger, Cash,” Rodney corrected his son, “who is it then?”
“One of Sam’s friends,” Cash informed him as he swung on the door handle. Rodney’s arms came into view as he picked the toddler up and out of view.
“Oh it - seriously, do you not have any other clothes?” Rodney opened the door wider and gestured to the air force casuals that John was wearing. John felt himself flush but easily defended himself.
“Not really, I left them all in Colorado,” he drawled, with heavy implication. He had left them all at the house he had shared with Rodney before Atlantis, before space vampires and psychic ships and almost dying.
Rodney looked awkwardly ashamed for a second - which let John know that Rodney had chucked his clothes and belongings out (before or after he’d believed John dead?), until the anger resurfaced. John guessed that this was what it would be like between them for a while, the relief that John was alive battling with Rodney’s pain at being abandoned for something he didn’t have the proper security clearance to understand. They would both muddle through; for the kids.
“You have told them the truth, right?” John asked, suddenly nervous about seeing Meredith, Cash, and Misha again for the first time in eight months. He’d been a solider, a light switch, a leader, even a negotiator but never a lover nor a father in those months. His biggest fear was never being either of those things again.
Rodney’s mouth tightened, and John knew he was biting back an abrasive retort for the sake of not starting a fight. He sighed, heavily. “Look, John, your truth and my truth… let’s not go there just yet. I’m glad - more glad than you realise - that you are alive, but I’m also not over you leaving, or hearing you are dead… I just… all I’ve told them is that you didn’t die, it was a mistake, and you love them. Okay?”
John gulped, emotion choking his vocal chords. All he could do was nod gruffly. Then the door between them and the family room opened, and John was faced with the children he had left behind to save the world.
“Daddy?” Meredith said, her voice questioning as she looked from John to Rodney, and back again. John stared right back, he thought she might just be the most precious sight he had ever seen, way better than Atlantis from the air or even Earth from space. She hadn’t changed beyond recognition, but she was definitely more mature in her features. She still had the McKay blonde hair left loose around her shoulders, and what John assumed was Marie’s rosy cheeked complexion. Bow lips and eyes the same shape and size as Rodney’s even though they were velvet brown like Moon’s.
John realised he had been staring, and that Rodney had been silent. Meredith’s forehead creased with a frown and John sent Rodney a well disguised glare that Rodney missed altogether because he too was staring at Meredith, his breathing hitched and his hands screwed up in fists next to his thighs. John tried to calm his impatience, this wasn’t easy for Rodney either.
Rodney finally got his breathing under control, and nodded at Meredith who took this as a sign to approach John. The hesitance in her steps showed just how much John’s absence had hurt her, and how much fear she had within her tiny child heart that it would only happen again. Words wouldn’t fix this mess, John could only prove to them that he intended to be there for them with actions. Prove to Rodney that he was serious about it too, because it was clear from the expression on his face that Rodney felt the same fear that Meredith did.
“If you ever hurt her like this again…” Rodney whispered, injecting as much venom and pain into his words that he could at that volume.
“I won’t,” John swore, but he only had eyes for his daughter as she finally reached him. He bent down and lifted her into his arms - she was heavier now and his back would hurt later, but he was still fairly fit, he couldn’t afford not to be considering how many times running had saved his life. John held his breath as Meredith considered him up close, and released it with relief when her tiny arms encircled his neck and her head found its way snugly into the crook between his shoulder and neck. He closed his eyes in bliss, and breathed in deep the smell that was Meredith and daughter and home. This was why he had lived when so many others hadn’t.
Rodney swallowed a great lump of emotion and moved towards Cash and Misha, both who had been watching the touching exchange, even Misha - at seventeen months old - seemed to understand that this was something huge. Rodney sat in the chair nearest to them, and they both immediately climbed onto him seeking refuge in his lap. He was glad, hugged them close and prayed that letting John back into their lives - and by default his own - wouldn’t come back to kick him in the ass.
John spent the day there, and slowly Rodney relaxed enough in his presence for Misha to feel enough at ease to approach John and play with him. By dinner all the children were coming out of their shells, and while John didn’t truly feel like a father again he was enjoying watching the children he loved as they played and yelled. Dinner was a rushed affair, with Cash sleepily chewing his food and Misha clinging to Rodney, although from Rodney’s reaction that seemed to be a common occurrence and not a reaction to John’s unfamiliar presence at the dinner table. Meredith curled up with John on the sofa and insisted he read her stories from the unabridged Brother’s Grimm book while Rodney put Cash and Misha to bed.
Meredith had joined her younger brother’s in the land of nod by the time John’s cell rang. He glared at it in frustration, knowing he should pick it up and yet unable to do so, unwilling to let the fantasy of ‘normal’ and ‘family’ die just yet.
“Oh for god sakes, just answer it!” Rodney snapped. He was standing at the sink not five feet away from John, washing the dishes and looking bone tired even as he folded his arms over his broad chest and stared at John with a challenge on his face.
“Fine, I will,” John replied childishly, and flipped the phone open. “Sheppard.”
“John?” Elizabeth’s voice rang out clearly on the other line. Shit. This was what he had been trying to avoid. He had finally gotten Rodney alone and his obligation was interrupting them. He sighed heavily.
“Elizabeth. How can I help you?” He asked, making his voice light and care free when all he wanted to do was curse and beg Rodney not to think this phone call was more important than him.
“I need to talk to you. I have an interesting proposition for you,” she sounded like the cat who’d gotten the cream. John was curious, but he was also dreading what she had to tell him. Elizabeth was a woman worth respect, and in John’s experience the only politician worth listening to, but her first priority was what was best for the city - it’s people, history, and discoveries. What was ‘interesting’ to Elizabeth was good for the city, and John wasn’t sure that it would be good for him.
“Really? Do you want to tell me in person?” John asked, since she obviously wasn’t going to divulge the information over the phone.
“I do. Are you still in Colorado?” She asked, briskly efficient as ever.
“Not exactly. I’m staying with a friend… in Vancouver.” He replied evasively, hoping she would use her famous discretion and not pry into the details he was clearly trying to hide from her. In the background he heard the clash of dishes and winced, hating that Rodney was still in the room, probably taking his evasiveness in the worst possible way. John wasn’t ashamed of his family or his sexuality, he had no problem with Elizabeth knowing especially as she wasn’t military, but he was used to keeping things close to his chest, telling people private information about himself had never been his strong suit. He guessed it was the repercussions of growing up in a WASP household, after his mother had died it had all just gotten worse.
“Canada?” The surprise in her voice was unmistakable, as was the question.
“Yeah.”
“If you text me the address I can be there tomorrow afternoon,” Elizabeth continued, thankfully taking his lack of explanation as a hint not to press him any further. It was his favourite quality in a person, the ability to take a hint. Rodney, oddly enough, lacked his ability completely.
“Sure. Just tell me when your plane gets in. We’ll grab a late lunch,” he agreed uneasily, and hung up on his boss.
“So, you’re leaving already?” Rodney assumed, his voice tight with emotion even as he tried, and failed, to blank off his face. John had always loved that about Rodney, that unlike John and John’s family - particularly his father - Rodney couldn’t hide his emotions behind a mask of indifference. Their kids would never have to guess that Rodney loved them, they would know just by looking at him.
“Eager to see me go?” John said lightly.
“Damn it John!” Rodney yelled, and they both paused, bated breath, waiting to hear a wail or a sob or even the pitter-patter of tiny feet to indicate his yell had woken the children.
Nothing. Silence. They could breathe again.
“I have two weeks of ‘shore leave’, Rodney, I’m not disappearing yet,” John assured him before Rodney could get another word in edgeways.
“Right well… that’s good then… for the kids, I mean,” Rodney babbled, obviously a little embarrassed he’d yelled for no reason. John watched him, vaguely amused as Rodney’s cheeks flushed pink. “Well… I’ll be off to bed then,” he said, lamely.
“Rodney, it’s not even nine pm yet!” John pointed out. Back before John had left they had just about settled into a pattern with Misha finally sleeping through the night. They’d put the children to bed by seven, have their own supper - because feeding three small children didn’t leave sufficient time to eat themselves - and clean up the considerable mess that the kids (and Rodney) made during the day before settling down for a movie. They had been too knackered to actually get any work one - astrophysics had taken a backseat to getting peace and quiet for a few hours.
“Yes, well -” Rodney was a terrible liar, everyone knew this, but he didn’t exactly know how to come out and say ‘as glad as I am that you’re alive, I want to be alone right now and freak the hell out because you left me, and now you’re back’.
John got up from the kitchen table, making his way silently towards Rodney who backed into the sick uneasily. “I… maybe we could just sit… like we used to?” John suggested, his voice a mere whisper.
Rodney felt like his heart was beating loud enough to wake the children, flashes of memories of sweet kisses on the couch, lying entwined with John as they discussed their days. He swallowed, his throat dry. “I can’t do this,” he gasped out when John had finally reached him, his hand hovering inches from Rodney’s face.
John paused, his jaw ticked and he stepped away with a suddenness that seemed abrupt after his slow seductive walk. “Is it because of ‘Sam’?” He asked.
The mood was broken. Rodney’s face showed nothing but confusion as he puzzled over where the hell that question had come from. “What?”
“I asked if you’d found some other flyboy to fill your bed? Is that what I was, just a pretty uniform to fulfil your fantasies with?” John asked, his eyes dark and voice tight.
“If you think that then you can get the fuck out and never come back!” Rodney bit back at him, his own temper rising. What right of it was John’s who he saw? John may be the father of his children, but damn it he had left, and Rodney had believed he was dead. If he had moved on then it would be none of John’s business!
John looked like he had been slapped. “I… I’m sorry. I know that I don’t have the right to… I’ll leave now,” he said, running his hand through his irrepressible mop of brown hair, looking more tired and older than Rodney had ever seen him before.
“Look, I won’t ask you, and you don’t ask me, okay? Let’s just make that deal, for the sake of the children. It’ll be better this way,” Rodney said, doubt filling his voice. Truthfully he just didn’t want to know what the answer would be if he asked the same questions. How many people had filled John’s bed while he had been fighting a classified war so far from home that he couldn’t even telegram his family to let them know he was still alive, still thinking of them.
John nodded guiltily, and with one last lingering look left for the night. But a little voice at the back of his mind wondered what the answer would have been.
…
The next morning Rodney greeted him as if there had been no words of ill intent spoken, no moments of near intimacy shared. He acted as if John was nothing more to him than a distant relative. John would have applauded the man’s sudden talent in acting if it hadn’t frustrated him so much! How was he supposed to get close to Rodney if the man put up a wall of casual indifference? Still, the day wore on and the children were enchanting as they continued to let him into their lives. They truly were a blessing that he hadn’t expected in his life. He would miss them deeply when he left.
Shortly after lunch he received a text message from Elizabeth, telling him she would be arriving tomorrow morning at eleven am at the airport. They would do lunch at a café, talk about whatever it was that had her so excited. John was dreading it.
“Elizabeth,” he greeted her with a handshake. She smiled warmly at him, taking him by the arm and steering him in the direction of the exit. Most people took a few minutes to get their bearings in an airport, not Elizabeth. She must have travelled to as many places as John had, and a Canadian airport was simple to figure out after Iran and China, even with the masses of people floating around.
After fifteen minutes of pointless but polite chitchat about the weather, the SGC, and missing Atlantis, Elizabeth finally got to the point. “… you must have realised they would never allow a Major to run the military operation in Atlantis?” She told him, sipping her black coffee and watching him with hawk eyes.
“It crossed my mind,” John agreed casually, even though his heart tightened. He only had a few years left of service before he could retire, come home to Rodney and convince him they could be a family again. He did not want to face those few years with another unbearable commanding officer putting his life on the line for all the wrong reasons.
“Stargate Command have been brainstorming. Colonel Caldwell put his own name up for the position, and O’Neill suggested that maybe it was time for Colonel Carter to get her own position. Carter turned down the offer, she’s still in love with SG-1 and the Milky Way, but Caldwell is gunning for it,” she told him.
John didn’t even try to hide his wince. He knew right off that he and Caldwell wouldn’t get along. Caldwell was very… by the book. Just like Sumner, and look what ha happened to him. “What direction are they leaning in?” He asked.
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed with pleasure. “In my direction,” she admitted. John stared at her, nonplused. “John, they’re going to promote you!” She revealed.
John let it sink it, then an irrepressible grin spread across his face. “Cool,” he said, grinning like a twelve year old at Christmas.
~Chapter One B~