The Ghost of You and Me, 2/2, by Audrey Lynne (Supernatural Challenge)
Rodney and his team had a standing breakfast date unless life intervened, and Rodney knew they would be looking for him if he didn't show. Thus, he found himself sitting in the mess an hour an a half later, being scrutinized by three worried friends. Well, Teyla and John were scrutinizing him, at least. Ronon appeared moderately interested, though, and for him that qualified as outright concern.
"Rodney." It was still amazing, the way Teyla could manage to make his name sound so diplomatic sometimes. "Are you feeling ill?"
"No, I'm fine," Rodney insisted, hoping they would let it drop. Otherwise, he was going to tell them exactly what happened the night before and they were no doubt going to send him straight to Carson--or, more likely, Heightmeyer. They had known about his relationship with Radek, and they'd pleasantly surprised him with their complete acceptance of it.
"You sure?" John asked, watching Rodney carefully. "I mean, I know it's been hard on you since...well, you know...."
"Go on, you can say it." Rodney paused to take a bite of his muffin, using the downtime to give John a defiant glare. "Since Radek died. I'm not some china doll you have to tiptoe around."
Ronon frowned a little. "It's okay for you to have a tough time with it, McKay. I mean, you two were...."
"Lovers? Fucking like bunnies on a regular basis? Yes, we were." Rodney knew his friends were only trying to help, but them being worried about him was one more complication he didn't need. "Listen, it's not that I don't appreciate your uncharacteristic empathy--really, I do. But I'm fine. Life goes on."
They weren't buying it for a second; he could see it in their eyes--which wasn't especially hard, because they hadn't taken their eyes off him, even Ronon. "I lost someone too, back on Sateda," Ronon said quietly. "It's hard."
"Yes...well." God, why did they--especially Ronon--have to be so nice? Sure, it was what friends did for each other, but Rodney was still getting used to having friends, people who really cared and didn't simply want him around because he could help advance their scientific careers. "Yeah, it is." Maybe he could play it to his advantage, get out of this without having to admit he was receiving messages from his dead boyfriend. Or that said boyfriend might not really be dead. "It's hard, yeah. I didn't get much sleep last night." That was at least truthful.
Teyla put a hand on his arm. "You know we are here for you, Rodney, whenever you need us."
John nodded. "Yeah. No one expects you to be Superman over this."
Rodney nodded as well, taking another bite of his muffin. At least he was getting his appetite back. "Thanks."
They, of course, chimed in with assurances that they were his friends and that's what they were there for, but Rodney had mostly tuned them out by that point. He kept going over Radek's mysterious code in his head. The A and G might have been involved with DNA, but the other letters didn't quite fit. It wasn't a word, and typing the code itself into Atlantis' database had produced nothing. "D, a, b, f, g, d, g, a...." Rodney had gone over it so many times in his mind that it took him a second too long to notice he'd slipped and was saying it aloud.
"What?" John asked, frowning a bit in confusion.
"D, a, b, f, g, d, g, a," Rodney repeated, punctuating each letter with a tap on the table. "It's a code. I'm trying to decipher it."
"Oh." John shrugged, apparently satisfied, but Rodney trying to unlock a code was not an unusual state of affairs around Atlantis. "For a minute there, I thought you were composing your grand symphony or something."
There were days Rodney regretted ever telling John that his first love before science had been the piano. John had pulled out every classical music joke in the book in the time since, and often at the oddest times. Like now. "You're not nearly as funny as you find yourself, you know. But if it puts your little mind at rest, no, I'm not planning on becoming Atlantis' answer to Mozart any time soon."
"Oh, I have it on good word that I'm hilarious." John grinned, looking very much like the perpetual eight year old he could be sometimes. "And that's good, because I'm not a big fan of Mozart. Always liked that Taco Bell guy a lot better."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "It's Pachelbel, and I hate Pachelbel. Do you know how many weddings my piano teacher forced me to play that damned Canon in D aaa--wait." Rodney quickly went over the letters again. "D, a, b, f--that bastard...."
"He couldn't have been that bad a guy," John offered mildly.
Rodney shook his head, pushing away from the table. "No, you don't--I've got it; I've got to go. I'll see you guys later." With that, he was off, running for the nearest computer terminal, calling up the database search. When he had that, he called up a series of deeply-buried files he and Radek had discovered a week ago, all pertaining to the ascension machine.
Without time to study the files completely, they had assumed all the information pertained to the ascension machine Rodney had encountered, and most of it actually did. The Ancients hadn't actually wiped all knowledge of it from the database, but carefully hidden the files in places no one would have thought to look for them. No one but the Atlantis expedition, that was. Rodney and Radek had discovered the files quite by accident, and decided to password them for safety: "So that none of the baby scientists gets it in their head to try to be smarter than the Ancients and fix the damned thing," Rodney had said. The first name of one of the scientists involved in the project had been Johan, which Rodney figured was probably pronounced much like Johann. Which was really the trouble, Rodney had snarked.
"Yes, so the name probably originated with some of the Ancients who escaped to Earth," Radek said, obviously not following.
"Johann--I can't like that name after Pachelbel," Rodney told him. "Do you know how many times I had to play that stupid canon at weddings when I was a kid? Do you?"
"Should I?" Radek asked, in a tone that suggested he was clearly humoring Rodney.
"A lot." Rodney set to work on passwording the files. "There's only one thing worse than being eleven and being forced to play the Canon on piano." It may have been schadenfreude, but at least he had known his friend Matthew had it worse. "Having to play it on a cello. There's a comedian back on Earth who does an entire rant about that, but he's right. If I had a penny for every time I heard Matthew bitch about playing those eight notes...D, A, B, F sharp, G, D, G, A, over and over. At least I had a real part, even if it was still repetitive as hell...." He got the distinct impression that Radek wasn't listening anymore. Which was nothing new, really. "Okay, the password's Pachelbel."
"Dare I ask why, given your obvious vitrol for the man?" Radek asked.
"Because I can and because we know why," Rodney answered smugly. "Now, come on, stop slacking while I save little scientists from themselves and get back to work on extending our ZPMs."
Rodney poured through the information, discarding everything that was obviously related to the ascension machine he had experienced the effects of, which was apparently a later model. They had royally fucked up once before, and Rodney saved every file related to the first attempt and sent it directly to his workstation in the lab. Dammit, for all the times for Radek to actually have been listening to him. If he'd been able to stay one second longer, he'd have just told Rodney and the whole code issue would have been moot. But Rodney had the files now, and as he raced to his lab, he couldn't help but hope that the faith Radek had put in him hadn't been misplaced.
-----------------
The sketchy literature that the Ancients had so helpfully provided--if, by "provided," one meant "carefully hidden"--on the first ascension accelerator attempt proved that the blasted machine had not done its job at all. The unlucky victims didn't even get superpowers for a short time before their deaths; they just got booted into a parallel dimension. Where they died. And it didn't even come with all the cool double-of-yourself parallel reality benefits--one basically found themselves in the world as they knew it but completely unable to contact anything or anyone in it. Which sucked. And eventually, the stresses of being stranded in a phase not their own killed them, most within a week. The Ancient had discovered this due to a notable "strong-willed" few who had been able to make contact with the "real" world and get help. In some cases, they learned how to solidify enough to briefly cross the barrier, like Radek had. Rodney had never been so grateful for the man's stubbornness. At least the file--as well as experiences Rodney had studied from the SGC--suggested that due to being in a mostly non-corporeal form in the alternate phase, the usual necessities of life like food and water were not an issue. The person's physical body appeared to die, much like it disappeared in a full-on ascension, but the person was still there in that other phase--at least until they couldn't hang on any longer and then ceased to be.
Fortunately, the "strong-willed" ones had worked with the Ancients left behind as much as possible to help get themselves back and it was doable if enacted in time, before too much of "their essence" had faded, whatever that meant. It sure as hell wasn't going to happen to Radek. It couldn't. He'd fought too hard to get his message through, and nothing would have pleased Rodney more than to pull out his box again for the sheer purpose of relieving it of a name.
They needed to work too quickly for Rodney to explain to some of the slower-to-catch-on members of his department what needed to be done, so he quickly grabbed Emilia, as well as Janet Simpson, and briefed them on the way. They were both understandably surprised, and even skeptical, but they also understood there was too much at stake not to take the chance that Rodney was right. Besides, if it turned out they absolutely needed another set of hands, Simpson knew how to keep Kavanaugh on a leash, and though the man could be a real ass sometimes, he was at least competent.
"It's ready," Simpson announced, stepping away from the machine. She nodded to Rodney. "You can input the final sequence remotely from your console--the machine should take it from there."
"Yes, yes, I know," Rodney insisted, doing exactly that. The machine came to life again seconds later with a burst of sound and light, bright enough that Rodney was forced to briefly look away. When he turned back and his eyes had adjusted, there was an unconscious, naked body lying on the platform. One that decidedly resembled Radek Zelenka.
Rodney hurried over, not even stopping to be amused by the fact that the women were politely averting their eyes and looking for a fire blanket somewhere in the room. "What is it with these Ancients and their penchant for sending people back naked, huh?" he asked, kneeling down beside Radek, who was rousing already.
"Co?" Radek asked, sounding adorably befuddled. He was missing his glasses, and his hair was tousled even worse than normal.
"Hey, it's okay, you're gonna be all right." Rodney pulled Radek into his arms, nodding gratefully at Emilia as she handed him the blanket she and Simpson had procured. Rodney loosely draped the blanket around Radek, preserving both his warmth and dignity, and reached up to tap his radio. "McKay to Beckett--can you come down here for a few minutes? Got someone I want you to take a look at." He quickly provided the location as well, realizing belatedly that could be useful information.
"Of course, I'll be there in a snap," Carson replied over the radio. "Do I need to bring a team with me?"
"Ah, no, I think you can handle this yourself," Rodney answered. Radek appeared to be gaining more coherence and strength as each second passed. He disconnected the radio link and returned his attention to Radek, who might as well have been the only other person in the room for all Rodney cared at that moment. He wanted to kiss the man like there was no tomorrow, but that best saved for when they really were alone. Rodney settled for a quick, gentle kiss to the temple that might just as easily have been him bending down to make sure Radek was still breathing well--not that Rodney had to bother to hide anything in front of Emilia or Simpson. Emilia already knew perfectly well what the exact nature of their relationship was, and Simpson had been among those who had quietly offered her best wishes when Rodney and Radek had decided to make the transition to a true relationship versus simply being friends with benefits. Sure, there were those who didn't like the fact that they were together, whether it was because of their positions in the science department or the fact that they were both men, but none of those people had been stupid enough to create any problems yet, and the relationship was being kept off the radar as far as those outside the science division were concerned.
"Rodney?" Radek asked quietly, squinting up at him for a moment before he wriggled himself into a more comfortable sitting position.
"Yes?" Rodney asked. At that point, Radek could've asked him to dance through the halls of Atlantis in a pink tutu and he'd have considered doing it. Granted, it would have to be in the middle of the night, in an uninhabited part of the city, but surely it was the thought that counted.
"Thank you." Despite the fact that Radek probably couldn't see very well, his gaze was steady. "I always knew you would come through for me."
The fact that Radek so freely put so much trust in him was scary. But, then, had their positions been reversed, Rodney would have felt the same about Radek. Some of the other clowns in the department, not so much, but definitely Radek. "Well, of course. That's why I'm in charge of things, because I'm a genius, right?" He knew Radek would see right through him, but he also didn't care. "And, for the record, it's F sharp, not F. There's a difference."
"Mmm-hmm." Radek shook his head, but then leaned forward to whisper, "Miluji te."
"I, ah...." Dammit, why did those words give him such trouble? Rodney had always been bad with emotional things. "Yeah, me too." Later, he'd say it, when they didn't have an audience, but for now, Radek's smile said he understood. Later, Rodney could pull out the box again, banish Radek's name from it, kiss him soundly, and make him promise never to pull a stunt like that again. Radek would return the kiss, extract the same promise from Rodney, and as clichéd as it was, they would live happily ever after.
Well, until the next crisis.
The End
.
"Rodney." It was still amazing, the way Teyla could manage to make his name sound so diplomatic sometimes. "Are you feeling ill?"
"No, I'm fine," Rodney insisted, hoping they would let it drop. Otherwise, he was going to tell them exactly what happened the night before and they were no doubt going to send him straight to Carson--or, more likely, Heightmeyer. They had known about his relationship with Radek, and they'd pleasantly surprised him with their complete acceptance of it.
"You sure?" John asked, watching Rodney carefully. "I mean, I know it's been hard on you since...well, you know...."
"Go on, you can say it." Rodney paused to take a bite of his muffin, using the downtime to give John a defiant glare. "Since Radek died. I'm not some china doll you have to tiptoe around."
Ronon frowned a little. "It's okay for you to have a tough time with it, McKay. I mean, you two were...."
"Lovers? Fucking like bunnies on a regular basis? Yes, we were." Rodney knew his friends were only trying to help, but them being worried about him was one more complication he didn't need. "Listen, it's not that I don't appreciate your uncharacteristic empathy--really, I do. But I'm fine. Life goes on."
They weren't buying it for a second; he could see it in their eyes--which wasn't especially hard, because they hadn't taken their eyes off him, even Ronon. "I lost someone too, back on Sateda," Ronon said quietly. "It's hard."
"Yes...well." God, why did they--especially Ronon--have to be so nice? Sure, it was what friends did for each other, but Rodney was still getting used to having friends, people who really cared and didn't simply want him around because he could help advance their scientific careers. "Yeah, it is." Maybe he could play it to his advantage, get out of this without having to admit he was receiving messages from his dead boyfriend. Or that said boyfriend might not really be dead. "It's hard, yeah. I didn't get much sleep last night." That was at least truthful.
Teyla put a hand on his arm. "You know we are here for you, Rodney, whenever you need us."
John nodded. "Yeah. No one expects you to be Superman over this."
Rodney nodded as well, taking another bite of his muffin. At least he was getting his appetite back. "Thanks."
They, of course, chimed in with assurances that they were his friends and that's what they were there for, but Rodney had mostly tuned them out by that point. He kept going over Radek's mysterious code in his head. The A and G might have been involved with DNA, but the other letters didn't quite fit. It wasn't a word, and typing the code itself into Atlantis' database had produced nothing. "D, a, b, f, g, d, g, a...." Rodney had gone over it so many times in his mind that it took him a second too long to notice he'd slipped and was saying it aloud.
"What?" John asked, frowning a bit in confusion.
"D, a, b, f, g, d, g, a," Rodney repeated, punctuating each letter with a tap on the table. "It's a code. I'm trying to decipher it."
"Oh." John shrugged, apparently satisfied, but Rodney trying to unlock a code was not an unusual state of affairs around Atlantis. "For a minute there, I thought you were composing your grand symphony or something."
There were days Rodney regretted ever telling John that his first love before science had been the piano. John had pulled out every classical music joke in the book in the time since, and often at the oddest times. Like now. "You're not nearly as funny as you find yourself, you know. But if it puts your little mind at rest, no, I'm not planning on becoming Atlantis' answer to Mozart any time soon."
"Oh, I have it on good word that I'm hilarious." John grinned, looking very much like the perpetual eight year old he could be sometimes. "And that's good, because I'm not a big fan of Mozart. Always liked that Taco Bell guy a lot better."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "It's Pachelbel, and I hate Pachelbel. Do you know how many weddings my piano teacher forced me to play that damned Canon in D aaa--wait." Rodney quickly went over the letters again. "D, a, b, f--that bastard...."
"He couldn't have been that bad a guy," John offered mildly.
Rodney shook his head, pushing away from the table. "No, you don't--I've got it; I've got to go. I'll see you guys later." With that, he was off, running for the nearest computer terminal, calling up the database search. When he had that, he called up a series of deeply-buried files he and Radek had discovered a week ago, all pertaining to the ascension machine.
Without time to study the files completely, they had assumed all the information pertained to the ascension machine Rodney had encountered, and most of it actually did. The Ancients hadn't actually wiped all knowledge of it from the database, but carefully hidden the files in places no one would have thought to look for them. No one but the Atlantis expedition, that was. Rodney and Radek had discovered the files quite by accident, and decided to password them for safety: "So that none of the baby scientists gets it in their head to try to be smarter than the Ancients and fix the damned thing," Rodney had said. The first name of one of the scientists involved in the project had been Johan, which Rodney figured was probably pronounced much like Johann. Which was really the trouble, Rodney had snarked.
"Yes, so the name probably originated with some of the Ancients who escaped to Earth," Radek said, obviously not following.
"Johann--I can't like that name after Pachelbel," Rodney told him. "Do you know how many times I had to play that stupid canon at weddings when I was a kid? Do you?"
"Should I?" Radek asked, in a tone that suggested he was clearly humoring Rodney.
"A lot." Rodney set to work on passwording the files. "There's only one thing worse than being eleven and being forced to play the Canon on piano." It may have been schadenfreude, but at least he had known his friend Matthew had it worse. "Having to play it on a cello. There's a comedian back on Earth who does an entire rant about that, but he's right. If I had a penny for every time I heard Matthew bitch about playing those eight notes...D, A, B, F sharp, G, D, G, A, over and over. At least I had a real part, even if it was still repetitive as hell...." He got the distinct impression that Radek wasn't listening anymore. Which was nothing new, really. "Okay, the password's Pachelbel."
"Dare I ask why, given your obvious vitrol for the man?" Radek asked.
"Because I can and because we know why," Rodney answered smugly. "Now, come on, stop slacking while I save little scientists from themselves and get back to work on extending our ZPMs."
Rodney poured through the information, discarding everything that was obviously related to the ascension machine he had experienced the effects of, which was apparently a later model. They had royally fucked up once before, and Rodney saved every file related to the first attempt and sent it directly to his workstation in the lab. Dammit, for all the times for Radek to actually have been listening to him. If he'd been able to stay one second longer, he'd have just told Rodney and the whole code issue would have been moot. But Rodney had the files now, and as he raced to his lab, he couldn't help but hope that the faith Radek had put in him hadn't been misplaced.
-----------------
The sketchy literature that the Ancients had so helpfully provided--if, by "provided," one meant "carefully hidden"--on the first ascension accelerator attempt proved that the blasted machine had not done its job at all. The unlucky victims didn't even get superpowers for a short time before their deaths; they just got booted into a parallel dimension. Where they died. And it didn't even come with all the cool double-of-yourself parallel reality benefits--one basically found themselves in the world as they knew it but completely unable to contact anything or anyone in it. Which sucked. And eventually, the stresses of being stranded in a phase not their own killed them, most within a week. The Ancient had discovered this due to a notable "strong-willed" few who had been able to make contact with the "real" world and get help. In some cases, they learned how to solidify enough to briefly cross the barrier, like Radek had. Rodney had never been so grateful for the man's stubbornness. At least the file--as well as experiences Rodney had studied from the SGC--suggested that due to being in a mostly non-corporeal form in the alternate phase, the usual necessities of life like food and water were not an issue. The person's physical body appeared to die, much like it disappeared in a full-on ascension, but the person was still there in that other phase--at least until they couldn't hang on any longer and then ceased to be.
Fortunately, the "strong-willed" ones had worked with the Ancients left behind as much as possible to help get themselves back and it was doable if enacted in time, before too much of "their essence" had faded, whatever that meant. It sure as hell wasn't going to happen to Radek. It couldn't. He'd fought too hard to get his message through, and nothing would have pleased Rodney more than to pull out his box again for the sheer purpose of relieving it of a name.
They needed to work too quickly for Rodney to explain to some of the slower-to-catch-on members of his department what needed to be done, so he quickly grabbed Emilia, as well as Janet Simpson, and briefed them on the way. They were both understandably surprised, and even skeptical, but they also understood there was too much at stake not to take the chance that Rodney was right. Besides, if it turned out they absolutely needed another set of hands, Simpson knew how to keep Kavanaugh on a leash, and though the man could be a real ass sometimes, he was at least competent.
"It's ready," Simpson announced, stepping away from the machine. She nodded to Rodney. "You can input the final sequence remotely from your console--the machine should take it from there."
"Yes, yes, I know," Rodney insisted, doing exactly that. The machine came to life again seconds later with a burst of sound and light, bright enough that Rodney was forced to briefly look away. When he turned back and his eyes had adjusted, there was an unconscious, naked body lying on the platform. One that decidedly resembled Radek Zelenka.
Rodney hurried over, not even stopping to be amused by the fact that the women were politely averting their eyes and looking for a fire blanket somewhere in the room. "What is it with these Ancients and their penchant for sending people back naked, huh?" he asked, kneeling down beside Radek, who was rousing already.
"Co?" Radek asked, sounding adorably befuddled. He was missing his glasses, and his hair was tousled even worse than normal.
"Hey, it's okay, you're gonna be all right." Rodney pulled Radek into his arms, nodding gratefully at Emilia as she handed him the blanket she and Simpson had procured. Rodney loosely draped the blanket around Radek, preserving both his warmth and dignity, and reached up to tap his radio. "McKay to Beckett--can you come down here for a few minutes? Got someone I want you to take a look at." He quickly provided the location as well, realizing belatedly that could be useful information.
"Of course, I'll be there in a snap," Carson replied over the radio. "Do I need to bring a team with me?"
"Ah, no, I think you can handle this yourself," Rodney answered. Radek appeared to be gaining more coherence and strength as each second passed. He disconnected the radio link and returned his attention to Radek, who might as well have been the only other person in the room for all Rodney cared at that moment. He wanted to kiss the man like there was no tomorrow, but that best saved for when they really were alone. Rodney settled for a quick, gentle kiss to the temple that might just as easily have been him bending down to make sure Radek was still breathing well--not that Rodney had to bother to hide anything in front of Emilia or Simpson. Emilia already knew perfectly well what the exact nature of their relationship was, and Simpson had been among those who had quietly offered her best wishes when Rodney and Radek had decided to make the transition to a true relationship versus simply being friends with benefits. Sure, there were those who didn't like the fact that they were together, whether it was because of their positions in the science department or the fact that they were both men, but none of those people had been stupid enough to create any problems yet, and the relationship was being kept off the radar as far as those outside the science division were concerned.
"Rodney?" Radek asked quietly, squinting up at him for a moment before he wriggled himself into a more comfortable sitting position.
"Yes?" Rodney asked. At that point, Radek could've asked him to dance through the halls of Atlantis in a pink tutu and he'd have considered doing it. Granted, it would have to be in the middle of the night, in an uninhabited part of the city, but surely it was the thought that counted.
"Thank you." Despite the fact that Radek probably couldn't see very well, his gaze was steady. "I always knew you would come through for me."
The fact that Radek so freely put so much trust in him was scary. But, then, had their positions been reversed, Rodney would have felt the same about Radek. Some of the other clowns in the department, not so much, but definitely Radek. "Well, of course. That's why I'm in charge of things, because I'm a genius, right?" He knew Radek would see right through him, but he also didn't care. "And, for the record, it's F sharp, not F. There's a difference."
"Mmm-hmm." Radek shook his head, but then leaned forward to whisper, "Miluji te."
"I, ah...." Dammit, why did those words give him such trouble? Rodney had always been bad with emotional things. "Yeah, me too." Later, he'd say it, when they didn't have an audience, but for now, Radek's smile said he understood. Later, Rodney could pull out the box again, banish Radek's name from it, kiss him soundly, and make him promise never to pull a stunt like that again. Radek would return the kiss, extract the same promise from Rodney, and as clichéd as it was, they would live happily ever after.
Well, until the next crisis.
The End
.