And in Five, Four, Three... by Rose
Title: And in Five, Four, Three...
Author: Rose Wilde-Irish
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis…sorta
Rating: Mature Teen
Pairing: Gen Ensemb.
Summary: A.U. of Atlantis, set in TVLand.
Author’s Notes: Jonathan Rathe is borrowed from an idea from vampirehunter85. Thanks so much! Feedback and concrit, as always, will be loved, and squeezed, and called George.
"Give me some good news, Radek," Rodney growled into the headset.
There was a pause that was just long enough for a sigh. "No can do, Boss. His spot is empty."
Rodney growled. "When that bastard shows his sorry ass, you tell him that he’s gonna be lucky to keep his job! Jonathan Rathe is big time, dammit!"
Another sigh-length pause. "Will do, Rodney."
Cursing, Rodney triggered the mic off on the pack. Reaching into the small fridge, he grabbed an overpriced, imported water (the only kind Rathe drank, or so he’d read), and turned to go back into the green room, happy smile plastered on his face. "Jonathan," he said warmly, "here’s your drink." He noted the slight look of surprised approval on the older man’s face at the bottle, hiding the smirk. No one can say Rodney McKay doesn’t do his homework, he thought to himself.
"And where is our charming host?" There was an undercurrent to Rathe’s voice that gave Rodney the shivers, but he kept his smile warm and friendly. "Well, actually..." he began.
"I’m right here! So pleased you finally conceded to our requests, Mr. Rathe," cooed a very welcome voice.
"Teyla," Rathe said, leaning up to kiss her cheeks. "I know we’ve just met, but I feel as if I know you. I’m sure you get that all the time." He laughed, and Rodney again suppressed a shiver. Teyla joined in his laughter and patted his hand, absently. When she looked back at Rodney, the look clearly said You owe me. Big time. Rodney plastered on the smile again. "But where’s your partner?"
"Oh, ah, John doesn’t like to meet the guests before the show. He says it ruins the spontaneity of the onset greeting." Which was true, but Rathe didn’t know how badly Rodney had threatened John before this show. What Jonathan Rathe didn’t know, Rodney reflected, wouldn’t kill him.
"I’m sure many people in television have their little rituals," Rathe said, but there was something cold cutting through it.
Teyla smiled. "I know I do. A strong cup of tea, laced with honey-good for the vocal cords, too."
Rodney turned at a knock at the door. Simpson’s blonde head came round, holding two mic packs and an IFB. "Ah," he said. "Here’s Cindy with the microphones. Well, that means I’m needed in the control room. Jonathan, it’s been a pleasure, but duty calls." The two men shook hands, Rodney trying to keep the smile plastered on his face as Rathe ratcheted down on his hand. It seemed to Rodney that the man held it obscenely long, too, but finally he released it and Rodney scampered out the door as fast as he felt decorum would allow.
Ten steps outside the green room, he keyed open his pack. "Radek, where the hell is he?" he hissed, ready to kill.
"I don’t-wait, here he comes!"
"He wants to give me a heart attack," Rodney muttered. "OK, just get him in hair and makeup. I ‘ll meet him there."
"Copy."
Rodney stepped into the control room, breathing a deep breath and slowing down. Elizabeth didn’t like tension in her control room, at least not before a show. She amazed him. She was one of the most collected and calm directors he’d ever worked with, getting more out of her crew with just a soft word than many of the screamers he’d worked with ever managed. Smiling, he stepped beside her, listening as she gave her T.D., Peter, last minute instructions. With a smile she turned to him. "John show?"
"Finally. I swear, I think that man wants to kill me. Today of all days!"
She smiled. "Sometimes, you just have to trust your people, Rodney."
He was distracted by one of the monitors, staring at it. "What the hell--?" he asked.
She turned, looking at the monitor. "Oh...one of the cameras is acting up. Kavanagh’s on it."
Rodney groaned. "I swear, that man does this just to piss me off." He reached for the mic, stopped as Elizabeth rested a hand on his.
"Probably, but do you really want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it worked?" She smiled at his expression. "Things will be fine by showtime, Rodney. They always are."
He grinned at her and popped up. "Yeah, yeah, let me just go ream John a new one. You know he always has his best shows when I do."
She grinned. "Why do you think I never say anything about it?"
He stumbled as he walked through the door, honestly surprised. Her delighted, evil chuckle followed him down the hall.
"GODDAMN IT, JOHN!" he roared as he entered hair and makeup.
John just gave him his trademark smirk, the one that kept the fanmail coming in droves. "Good afternoon to you, too, Rodney."
"This. This! This is an interview everyone would kill for, and I mean everyone. Jonathan Rathe does not do sit-downs with ANYONE. Period. And the least you can do for me is to show up when I ask you, make nice-"
John, with unerring timing, looked at the wall clock. "Ream me in the postshow meeting, Rodney," he said calmly. "Time to hit the set. Oh, by the way, Aiden shot a little something with me today. You might want to drop it into the show when I call for it."
Rodney felt his eyes bug as his blood pressure spiked. "John, what did you do? JOHN!?"
But his talent was already swaggering onto the set, and he was out of time. Cursing, he ran back to the control room, dropping into his seat between Elizabeth and his associate producer, Radek, who met his eyes, dropped his gaze, and grinned his apology.
Unable to hold back a smile, Rodney shook his head. "I’ll deal with you, later," he told the other man.
"So many promises, so little follow through," his second said, and they shared a grin.
"Here we go, in five, four, three," Rodney heard in stereo, one count coming from the nameless P.A. in the back row, one from Corrigan the stage manager, who dropped off at three. Rodney checked the behind-the-scenes camera, making sure Corrigan clearly signed the "Two, one" that the P.A. sang out. He always checked. Corrigan always performed perfectly. Rodney was sure if he didn’t look, Corrigan would fall apart.
He watched Aiden scramble across the set like a cat with the handheld over one shoulder, always creeping and ducking just before the on-air camera caught him. Shaking his head, he turned to Radek. "He’s good." Radek only nodded, staring at the bank of monitors with that unfocused look that told Rodney he was trying to watch them all at once again.
Over the bright music of the show intro, Teyla and John rattled off their introductions and guest list, and engaged in the usual patter as they detailed the many accomplishments of Jonathan Rathe, entrepreneur. How he took his family’s fortune, already a powerhouse in the global scene, and turned it into an empire that had even crumpled governments. The first segment ran smoothly, John even asking all the best of Rodney’s prepared questions that he’d emailed to him. "I’ll be Goddamned," he said softly.
Radek asked him a question silently. Rodney gave a small, contented smile. "He really does read my emails." The other man held back his laugher, but it was a struggle.
"Ready camera three," Elizabeth said, a note of steel in her voice as she shot a quick glance out of the corner of her eyes at the two of them. Waving at her, Rodney nodded, promising to behave. "Take three," she said.
Rodney leaned forward and keyed the IFB mic, muttering a few words into John's or Teyla's earpiece, but mostly leaving them be. They were a seasoned team, experienced at playing off one another and covering any lapses, but this show seemed golden. So far there wasn't a single on-air burble.
During the commercial break, Rodney popped out of his chair to race to the set. "Great job, guys! Jonathan, you're a natural. Corrigan! Can you get some more of the water Mr. Rathe likes? John, can I talk to you for a moment?" He pulled John over to a corner of the set and hissed at him, "What are you up to?"
John merely grinned at him. "Rodney, if you really wanted to know, you'd be in master control getting a look at the tape we shot." His grin widened at Rodney's look. "Oh, too late, maybe next break!" he sang out as Corrigan came to lead him back to the set.
"John, I'm warning you--"
"Fifteen seconds!" Corrigan called out.
Growling, Rodney raced back to the control room. At least he's responsible for getting me back in shape, he thought.
Dropping back into his seat and settling his headset, Rodney gave Radek a strained look and tried to calm his breathing. When he glanced at John's face in the monitor, he knew he was in trouble.
"...truly amazing, the scope of your holdings," Teyla was saying. Rodney nodded. Always on time, always prepared, Teyla was a machine when it came to the show. He just wished John was a bit more like her.
"Take two," Elizabeth said. "Tighten up, One, I think the show's about to start." Rodney shot her a glance. Her gaze never leaving the monitor wall, she dropped a wink at him.
"What--" he began, but quieted as Radek elbowed him.
"...is why it's so astounding that we found what we found," John was saying.
Rathe looked at him, smiling, but it was a cold, predator smile. "And what would that be, John?" he asked.
John tapped his chin, the signal they'd long had for 'roll tape'. "That your holdings are stretched thin, too thin, and that your only viable income right now is coming from misinforming your employees, manipulating data, to get them to overinvest in their own company."
"What...TAKE THE TAPE! TAKE THE TAPE!" Rodney shrieked at Elizabeth as he saw graphs, figures, and memos on the tape montior.
"Rodney! It's up!" Elizabeth said, loudly, and he sat back down, unaware that he'd stood.
"In fact, we have this lovely conversation with your C.F.O."
"Take one!" Elizabeth snapped, inserting a closeup of Rathe.
"He had a lot to say to us, but I believe there were some gentlemen from the federal department wanting to talk to him next."
"Sound up on tape! Take tape!"
Rodney found himself chewing a fingernail doggedly, trying for Radek's trick of watching all of the monitors and failing, yet again.
The tape was beautiful. Golden. Rathe's chief financial officer was spilling the whole sordid story, tales of drugs and excesses and little lies and bigger lies and outright, prime grade bullshit. Of payoffs and contract hits and...
"Elizabeth," Rodney hissed, quietly. "Camera four!"
"Ready Ford, in the box," Elizabeth said, longtime experince telling her Peter would have the camera shot inserted in a small box over part of the footage. In a truly excellent shot, Ford had captured the malevalent deathglare Rathe was sending John, who was giving him the patently false look of concern.
"Ready four, full," Elizabeth said, sensing the end of the tape. "Take four."
The rest of the interview passed in a haze for Rodney, John and Teyla asking pointed questions, Rathe glaring and posturing. The two of them really pack a one-two punch, Rodney thought, happily. It was the best decision of his life, putting the two of them together.
"We're in-vinc-i-ble!" he sang after the show ended and they gathered for the post meeting. He hugged John, kissing him enthusiastically on the cheek, then grabbing him by the neck and shaking him lightly. "And if you ever keep something like that from me again, you're a dead man!"
John rolled his eyes and pried Rodney's hands free. "You know as well as I do, Rodney, that with something like this? If it was't kept tightly under wraps, word would've leaked. My source wouldn't even speak to me until three hours before show time. Aiden was editing the entire way back."
Rodney punched John's arm and hugged Teyla, then Elizabeth. "I swear, you are going to be the death of me."
John smirked. "We love you, too, Rodney."
"Got any surprises for tomorrow's show?"
"Think I'd tell you if I did?"
Teyla looked at Elizabeth, who smiled, linked her arm in hers, and walked off. It was useless trying to talk to either of them when they got like this.
Radek and Aiden locked step with them. "Ladies, a beer? I'm buying," Aiden said.
"Delighted," Teyla told him wrapping an arm around him as more of the crew fell in behind them.
~fin~
Author: Rose Wilde-Irish
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis…sorta
Rating: Mature Teen
Pairing: Gen Ensemb.
Summary: A.U. of Atlantis, set in TVLand.
Author’s Notes: Jonathan Rathe is borrowed from an idea from vampirehunter85. Thanks so much! Feedback and concrit, as always, will be loved, and squeezed, and called George.
"Give me some good news, Radek," Rodney growled into the headset.
There was a pause that was just long enough for a sigh. "No can do, Boss. His spot is empty."
Rodney growled. "When that bastard shows his sorry ass, you tell him that he’s gonna be lucky to keep his job! Jonathan Rathe is big time, dammit!"
Another sigh-length pause. "Will do, Rodney."
Cursing, Rodney triggered the mic off on the pack. Reaching into the small fridge, he grabbed an overpriced, imported water (the only kind Rathe drank, or so he’d read), and turned to go back into the green room, happy smile plastered on his face. "Jonathan," he said warmly, "here’s your drink." He noted the slight look of surprised approval on the older man’s face at the bottle, hiding the smirk. No one can say Rodney McKay doesn’t do his homework, he thought to himself.
"And where is our charming host?" There was an undercurrent to Rathe’s voice that gave Rodney the shivers, but he kept his smile warm and friendly. "Well, actually..." he began.
"I’m right here! So pleased you finally conceded to our requests, Mr. Rathe," cooed a very welcome voice.
"Teyla," Rathe said, leaning up to kiss her cheeks. "I know we’ve just met, but I feel as if I know you. I’m sure you get that all the time." He laughed, and Rodney again suppressed a shiver. Teyla joined in his laughter and patted his hand, absently. When she looked back at Rodney, the look clearly said You owe me. Big time. Rodney plastered on the smile again. "But where’s your partner?"
"Oh, ah, John doesn’t like to meet the guests before the show. He says it ruins the spontaneity of the onset greeting." Which was true, but Rathe didn’t know how badly Rodney had threatened John before this show. What Jonathan Rathe didn’t know, Rodney reflected, wouldn’t kill him.
"I’m sure many people in television have their little rituals," Rathe said, but there was something cold cutting through it.
Teyla smiled. "I know I do. A strong cup of tea, laced with honey-good for the vocal cords, too."
Rodney turned at a knock at the door. Simpson’s blonde head came round, holding two mic packs and an IFB. "Ah," he said. "Here’s Cindy with the microphones. Well, that means I’m needed in the control room. Jonathan, it’s been a pleasure, but duty calls." The two men shook hands, Rodney trying to keep the smile plastered on his face as Rathe ratcheted down on his hand. It seemed to Rodney that the man held it obscenely long, too, but finally he released it and Rodney scampered out the door as fast as he felt decorum would allow.
Ten steps outside the green room, he keyed open his pack. "Radek, where the hell is he?" he hissed, ready to kill.
"I don’t-wait, here he comes!"
"He wants to give me a heart attack," Rodney muttered. "OK, just get him in hair and makeup. I ‘ll meet him there."
"Copy."
Rodney stepped into the control room, breathing a deep breath and slowing down. Elizabeth didn’t like tension in her control room, at least not before a show. She amazed him. She was one of the most collected and calm directors he’d ever worked with, getting more out of her crew with just a soft word than many of the screamers he’d worked with ever managed. Smiling, he stepped beside her, listening as she gave her T.D., Peter, last minute instructions. With a smile she turned to him. "John show?"
"Finally. I swear, I think that man wants to kill me. Today of all days!"
She smiled. "Sometimes, you just have to trust your people, Rodney."
He was distracted by one of the monitors, staring at it. "What the hell--?" he asked.
She turned, looking at the monitor. "Oh...one of the cameras is acting up. Kavanagh’s on it."
Rodney groaned. "I swear, that man does this just to piss me off." He reached for the mic, stopped as Elizabeth rested a hand on his.
"Probably, but do you really want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it worked?" She smiled at his expression. "Things will be fine by showtime, Rodney. They always are."
He grinned at her and popped up. "Yeah, yeah, let me just go ream John a new one. You know he always has his best shows when I do."
She grinned. "Why do you think I never say anything about it?"
He stumbled as he walked through the door, honestly surprised. Her delighted, evil chuckle followed him down the hall.
"GODDAMN IT, JOHN!" he roared as he entered hair and makeup.
John just gave him his trademark smirk, the one that kept the fanmail coming in droves. "Good afternoon to you, too, Rodney."
"This. This! This is an interview everyone would kill for, and I mean everyone. Jonathan Rathe does not do sit-downs with ANYONE. Period. And the least you can do for me is to show up when I ask you, make nice-"
John, with unerring timing, looked at the wall clock. "Ream me in the postshow meeting, Rodney," he said calmly. "Time to hit the set. Oh, by the way, Aiden shot a little something with me today. You might want to drop it into the show when I call for it."
Rodney felt his eyes bug as his blood pressure spiked. "John, what did you do? JOHN!?"
But his talent was already swaggering onto the set, and he was out of time. Cursing, he ran back to the control room, dropping into his seat between Elizabeth and his associate producer, Radek, who met his eyes, dropped his gaze, and grinned his apology.
Unable to hold back a smile, Rodney shook his head. "I’ll deal with you, later," he told the other man.
"So many promises, so little follow through," his second said, and they shared a grin.
"Here we go, in five, four, three," Rodney heard in stereo, one count coming from the nameless P.A. in the back row, one from Corrigan the stage manager, who dropped off at three. Rodney checked the behind-the-scenes camera, making sure Corrigan clearly signed the "Two, one" that the P.A. sang out. He always checked. Corrigan always performed perfectly. Rodney was sure if he didn’t look, Corrigan would fall apart.
He watched Aiden scramble across the set like a cat with the handheld over one shoulder, always creeping and ducking just before the on-air camera caught him. Shaking his head, he turned to Radek. "He’s good." Radek only nodded, staring at the bank of monitors with that unfocused look that told Rodney he was trying to watch them all at once again.
Over the bright music of the show intro, Teyla and John rattled off their introductions and guest list, and engaged in the usual patter as they detailed the many accomplishments of Jonathan Rathe, entrepreneur. How he took his family’s fortune, already a powerhouse in the global scene, and turned it into an empire that had even crumpled governments. The first segment ran smoothly, John even asking all the best of Rodney’s prepared questions that he’d emailed to him. "I’ll be Goddamned," he said softly.
Radek asked him a question silently. Rodney gave a small, contented smile. "He really does read my emails." The other man held back his laugher, but it was a struggle.
"Ready camera three," Elizabeth said, a note of steel in her voice as she shot a quick glance out of the corner of her eyes at the two of them. Waving at her, Rodney nodded, promising to behave. "Take three," she said.
Rodney leaned forward and keyed the IFB mic, muttering a few words into John's or Teyla's earpiece, but mostly leaving them be. They were a seasoned team, experienced at playing off one another and covering any lapses, but this show seemed golden. So far there wasn't a single on-air burble.
During the commercial break, Rodney popped out of his chair to race to the set. "Great job, guys! Jonathan, you're a natural. Corrigan! Can you get some more of the water Mr. Rathe likes? John, can I talk to you for a moment?" He pulled John over to a corner of the set and hissed at him, "What are you up to?"
John merely grinned at him. "Rodney, if you really wanted to know, you'd be in master control getting a look at the tape we shot." His grin widened at Rodney's look. "Oh, too late, maybe next break!" he sang out as Corrigan came to lead him back to the set.
"John, I'm warning you--"
"Fifteen seconds!" Corrigan called out.
Growling, Rodney raced back to the control room. At least he's responsible for getting me back in shape, he thought.
Dropping back into his seat and settling his headset, Rodney gave Radek a strained look and tried to calm his breathing. When he glanced at John's face in the monitor, he knew he was in trouble.
"...truly amazing, the scope of your holdings," Teyla was saying. Rodney nodded. Always on time, always prepared, Teyla was a machine when it came to the show. He just wished John was a bit more like her.
"Take two," Elizabeth said. "Tighten up, One, I think the show's about to start." Rodney shot her a glance. Her gaze never leaving the monitor wall, she dropped a wink at him.
"What--" he began, but quieted as Radek elbowed him.
"...is why it's so astounding that we found what we found," John was saying.
Rathe looked at him, smiling, but it was a cold, predator smile. "And what would that be, John?" he asked.
John tapped his chin, the signal they'd long had for 'roll tape'. "That your holdings are stretched thin, too thin, and that your only viable income right now is coming from misinforming your employees, manipulating data, to get them to overinvest in their own company."
"What...TAKE THE TAPE! TAKE THE TAPE!" Rodney shrieked at Elizabeth as he saw graphs, figures, and memos on the tape montior.
"Rodney! It's up!" Elizabeth said, loudly, and he sat back down, unaware that he'd stood.
"In fact, we have this lovely conversation with your C.F.O."
"Take one!" Elizabeth snapped, inserting a closeup of Rathe.
"He had a lot to say to us, but I believe there were some gentlemen from the federal department wanting to talk to him next."
"Sound up on tape! Take tape!"
Rodney found himself chewing a fingernail doggedly, trying for Radek's trick of watching all of the monitors and failing, yet again.
The tape was beautiful. Golden. Rathe's chief financial officer was spilling the whole sordid story, tales of drugs and excesses and little lies and bigger lies and outright, prime grade bullshit. Of payoffs and contract hits and...
"Elizabeth," Rodney hissed, quietly. "Camera four!"
"Ready Ford, in the box," Elizabeth said, longtime experince telling her Peter would have the camera shot inserted in a small box over part of the footage. In a truly excellent shot, Ford had captured the malevalent deathglare Rathe was sending John, who was giving him the patently false look of concern.
"Ready four, full," Elizabeth said, sensing the end of the tape. "Take four."
The rest of the interview passed in a haze for Rodney, John and Teyla asking pointed questions, Rathe glaring and posturing. The two of them really pack a one-two punch, Rodney thought, happily. It was the best decision of his life, putting the two of them together.
"We're in-vinc-i-ble!" he sang after the show ended and they gathered for the post meeting. He hugged John, kissing him enthusiastically on the cheek, then grabbing him by the neck and shaking him lightly. "And if you ever keep something like that from me again, you're a dead man!"
John rolled his eyes and pried Rodney's hands free. "You know as well as I do, Rodney, that with something like this? If it was't kept tightly under wraps, word would've leaked. My source wouldn't even speak to me until three hours before show time. Aiden was editing the entire way back."
Rodney punched John's arm and hugged Teyla, then Elizabeth. "I swear, you are going to be the death of me."
John smirked. "We love you, too, Rodney."
"Got any surprises for tomorrow's show?"
"Think I'd tell you if I did?"
Teyla looked at Elizabeth, who smiled, linked her arm in hers, and walked off. It was useless trying to talk to either of them when they got like this.
Radek and Aiden locked step with them. "Ladies, a beer? I'm buying," Aiden said.
"Delighted," Teyla told him wrapping an arm around him as more of the crew fell in behind them.
~fin~