Timed to the 7th

[scientificsnark]

Rodney was trying to stay optimistic about Teyla's disappearance, but optimism was as alien a word in Rodney McKay's dictionary as creationism. Suffice it to say, he wasn't pulling it off too well. In fact, he had spent most of the day sulking, Sheppard-style, and then he ate himself into a sleepy stupor by early evening and slept until about 3am

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[jill_langston]

When she'd woken up that morning and found the snow gone, Jill couldn't help but feel better than she had for the past few weeks. The snow looked nice enough, but she hated the cold and after she'd pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top, she'd briefly considered going out for a walk in the warm weather.

In the end, she'd done what she always did, and was sitting at her desk, her laptop open in front of her when she heard the knock at the door. Glancing over her notes one more time, she got to her feet and headed for the door, pushing it open to see who was there so early. In truth, she'd been expecting to see Mayko, but finding Rodney there caused her to smile brightly as she took a step back to let him inside.

"Morning," she said, but her smile faded almost immediately. "What's wrong?"

[scientificsnark]

In truth, the relief Rodney felt at seeing Jill there, alive and well and real and still actually there was more than a little eclipsed by an overwhelming feeling of sadness and guilt. Yes, guilt. He knew he wasn't responsible, it wasn't his fault for what they'd found on those databanks, but...Teyla was part of his team. He couldn't help but feel more than a little responsible, no matter how misplaced that sense of responsibility was.

"Teyla," he managed, his voice cracking as he took a step inside. "Teyla's gone."

[jill_langston]

Over the past two years, Jill had heard those words more times than she cared to remember, but even having practice in this didn't dull the pain. Beyond her own loss, she knew that John would be taking it hard, that Carson and Morgan would miss Teyla as much as she would. And Rodney... he looked so guilty and she knew she couldn't make that better.

"Oh, God," she murmured, letting the door shut behind him before she stepped toward him again, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. She wasn't going to fix this with a hug, but she needed the comfort of him there, even if it was just for a moment.

[scientificsnark]

Surprisingly enough, the hug was more comforting than anything else Rodney had tried so far. He folded his arms around Jill's waist and buried his face in her neck, breathing her in, her scent and her warmth calming him - not completely, but enough.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there like that, with Jill in his arms (or vice versa). But when he pulled away, he actually managed a small smile, and that was an improvement.

"Thanks," he said. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

[jill_langston]

Nodding, Jill watched Rodney carefully, her own face still pulled into a worried frown. She drew in a deep breath, then lifted her hand to the side of his face, just standing there for a moment. If there was something she could do to make it better, she would have done it, but she knew there was nothing.

"When did you guys realize?" she asked quietly, still frowning very faintly. Suddenly she felt guilty for not being in New Atlantis, like she should have known somehow and stayed there. She should have been there for them.

[scientificsnark]

"Yesterday morning," Rodney said, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "I went to check on the databanks and they were gone. So was Teyla." He looked down for a moment, then up again and touched the hand on his face with his own, curling his fingers around Jill's palm.

"I don't think it really hit me at first," he said. "But now...God, Jill. I just feel so damn helpless. I don't know how anyone handles this happening, time after time, without becoming a complete emotional cripple." Carefully not mentioning John's name there. "I just...it isn't fair. Not to Teyla. Not to anyone."

[jill_langston]

"I know," Jill answered, because she remembered how horrible it had felt the first time, how she'd felt when they'd told her that Rodney was gone. That had been the first time she'd realized just how little control they all had over who disappeared. "It shouldn't happen."

But it did. It happened over and over again and Jill lost everyone she cared about. And when it wasn't happening to her, it was happening to those around her.

"It never stops feeling like this either," she added, wishing she could lie and tell him it would get easier. "It feels this shitty every single time."

[scientificsnark]

"That's the thing," Rodney said, frustrated. "Should we expect it to happen? Every day, wake up wondering who's going next? How do you live like that? How does anyone? In the end you'd just end up a hermit in the middle of the jungle with only dinosaurs for friends." Again, carefully not mentioning John's name. "And friends who think you're a tasty snack aren't friends at all." He felt like pacing, but somehow he managed to stay there, a hand steadied on Jill's waist. He wasn't sure who he was steadying.

[jill_langston]

"I don't know," Jill answered honestly. She'd never found a way to deal with it or make it go away. "I just... I don't know, Rodney, I really don't. There's just... what else can you do?"

It wasn't too long ago that she'd been wondering the same thing, when she'd been avoiding Rodney just because she was afraid to fall for him and then lose him, but that wasn't a life. She couldn't avoid everything forever, no matter how terrible it was to lose it.

"I guess sometimes it's worth it," she murmured.

[scientificsnark]

Any other time, Rodney might have replied to that with a snide comment and a sarcastic drawl, but all of his usual cynicism seemed to have drained out of him. He just offered a thin smile instead.

"You're worth it," he told Jill, then he frowned. "God. I sound like a makeup commercial."

[jill_langston]

Smiling very faintly, Jill thought maybe she should feel guilty, letting herself feel good about something when someone she cared about had disappeared. "That's sort of what I meant," she agreed, because she'd been talking about Rodney more than anyone else.

"I told you before, I'd rather... it's better this way," she said finally, because she believed that. "Not losing people, but not letting it fuck us over completely either. It's better that it isn't turn us into dinosaur territory hermits."

[scientificsnark]

"I'd still love you even if you did become a dinosaur hermit," Rodney said fondly. It took approximately five seconds for him to realize what he'd said, and then he stood there frozen with his mouth slightly open.

"That is...uh..." he began, wondering how he was ever going to backpedal out of that.

[jill_langston]

"You'd still love me?" Jill repeated before she had a chance to think about what she was saying, her hand falling to Rodney's shoulder. It was weird, but she didn't step away. It was a testament to how far she'd come that she didn't immediately step back or ask him to leave.

"Did you..." Oh. "Could you repeat that?"

[scientificsnark]

Rodney looked as if he was very close to panicking and bolting himself, which was because he was. But he wasn't going to do that. He'd stick it out, even if meant - oh God - losing Jill.

He really hoped that wouldn't happen.

"I, um. Love you?" he said, with his eyebrows raised.

[jill_langston]

"Oh," Jill breathed softly and she had to take in a few deep breaths before she could say anything else. Rodney loved her and while she'd sort of figured this had to come eventually, she hadn't been prepared for it. Not now.

"I love you, too" she said, although she hadn't meant to say it. "I... oh." Now that she'd said it, she couldn't very well take it back. Of course, now that she was thinking about it, she didn't really want to take it back.

[scientificsnark]

"Oh," Rodney echoed. He'd almost forgotten why he'd come here in the first place, now, because Jill loved him. Of course, he loved her, but that was only incidental. Jill loved him.

"Well," he continued, and found himself beaming without quite meaning to. "That's good."