New story: (dis)connected
(dis)connected
Authors: auburnnothenna and eretria (with initial co-writing by ladycat777)
auburnanderetria
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes, not profit.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 25.100
Spoilers: The Return, Part I
Characters: Samantha Carter, Rodney McKay, John Sheppard
Authors' Notes: No stick figures were harmed in the course of writing this fic. A heartfelt thank you to ladycat777 for her generous co-writing in the beginning. Beta-read by enname. Thank you.
Summary: Five weeks after the Atlantis expedition returns to Earth, Sam Carter runs into John and Rodney, and they try to make do with what they can have, at least for one night.
Sam stumbled through the gate, bent forward, resting her hands on her knees, panting.
Cameron's boots were loud on the ramp before the sound of the gate disengaging swallowed the clanking.
Blood rushed in her ears. For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the burning in her legs and chest. Pictures assaulted her, making her screw her eyes shut. No avail. Everything replayed itself in her mind's eye.
A hand on her shoulder made her tense.
"Sam, are you - "
Sam straightened, abrupt and painful. Locked gazes with Cameron in a warning. "Not now."
She could see his need to reach out, to comfort, to help, to talk, but Sam shook her head, short and sharp. "Not now, Cam."
***
Endless post mission exam, endless debrief. She couldn't remember the last time she'd looked forward to a shower this much. Just to wash the dirt and sweat and fear stench off. Her mind was already under the shower spray when Landry caught her arm before she could leave his office.
Sam straightened, falling into parade rest without a conscious effort. "Sir."
"McKay's here."
Something twisted in her stomach. The name alone was enough to remind her of what she still tried to ignore - Atlantis lost to them, Jack a galaxy away, the Ancients unwilling to help in the fight against the Ori ... The missions that were almost daily now kept those thoughts at bay, usually. The bone-deep exhaustion left no room for what-if's.
But McKay here instead of in Area 51 ... Well, it had been more than four days since she'd gone on this mission with a stand-in team. Daniel, Vala and Teal'c were still with the council. Something must have gone really haywire if they'd flown in McKay despite the silent SGC agreement that he should not work in Cheyenne for at least a year. Acclimate, they'd said. She'd wanted to hit people the first time she'd heard it and it was no better now.
Before, McKay's presence would have made her edgy. His obvious interest in her made uncomfortable, she wasn't used to this direct kind of attention.
Now, his presence was just a relief. Another last minute fix, she knew realistically, wouldn't have been possible for her now. She had her own problems, her own demons to fight. Demons that kept reminding her that whoever walked through the gate with a team should come back with one.
McKay's presence here gave her time to breathe, the distance she needed, and damn, she'd probably kiss him if he wouldn't preen about it for weeks.
"Not curious why, Colonel?"
She gave Landry a tired smile that took an effort to form. "The world was about to end," she said, shrugging, "or you wouldn't have let him come back here."
Landry's barely perceptible wince was a satisfaction in and of itself. He reached for his coffee mug and smiled, an evasive smile. "You should go and catch up." A sip. "And make him take a damn break while you're down there. The lab-rats are ready to stage a rebellion."
"Sir." She nodded, indicated her head toward the door.
Landry finally waved his hand, dismissing her.
McKay was here. Sam hooked a thumb into her right pant-pocket as she headed out of his office.
But, really, Sam had to admit, it would improve her own mood as well. Apart from his abrasive nature, she'd always liked McKay. He was one of the few people on the planet who understood her without explanations, he had a sense of humor and was chivalrous in the oddest moments. Not to mention that cute ass. Not that she ever told him that. She wasn't insane, after all.
Upon reaching the communal showers, she stripped fast. Smiled into the shower spray, her earlier fantasy finally reality, diverting her briefly from her own problems. The klaxons alerting the base to a wormhole activation rang against the tiles, but cut off and no further alerts followed. Sam sucked in a deep breath. Just another gate team returning then. No reason to rush back into BDUs and bolt for the control room. The labs and McKay were still her goal.
She wasn't really up for snark or catching up, nor even a couple of good, long looks at McKay's ass, but it would be better than going home alone to her empty, stuffy house. It might even be refreshing. Time to compartmentalize. Time to push the demons to the side. They could wait until she'd had some distraction.
***
Sam made into the locker room and into her clothes before the influx of men from whichever team had made it back hit the showers. Thank God for mandatory post-mission medical exams. She pulled on her knee high boots in a slow, tired move. Good girls wore panty hose, but, damn it, she liked the feel of the soft leather sliding against her bare skin. She'd get away with no hose since she'd shaved her legs anyway. Before this last wretched mission, she had come in here in a skirt, something she didn't do often, but back then, she had hoped that it would be an easy, short mission and that she'd have time to go for dinner with Dr. Lam later. It was time to give her a chance. The boots had been necessary, too cold for sandals in October. The chill in the air outside transferred to the hallways under the mountain as well. In all her years down here, she had never managed to get really warm. Maybe it was the mountain. Tonight, it was the mission, too, chilling her to the bone.
She actually looked forward to fulfilling Landry's request of getting McKay out of the lab. Getting both of them out from under the Mountain. She'd never admit it out loud - his head would explode if he knew - but she liked the looks he gave her, and she knew that the skirt and boots combo would help her agenda.
"Colonel Carter." The voice startled her out of her thoughts. Sam looked up from the zipper of her left boot and found Colonel Sheppard standing at the entrance of the locker room, clad in a mud-spattered uniform, clumps of something green and oozing in his hair, looking ready to collapse.
She forced a smile on her face and tipped her head at him. "Colonel Sheppard."
He gave her a bleak, tired look. "You done in here?" He entered the room now that he had announced his presence. Sam saw a few livid bruises on his arms and a scratch along his cheek and her hand went to her own arm, unthinking. Looked as though Sheppard's mission hadn't gone well, either. Sam fought the urge to run both hands through her hair in frustration. Someone should have a good day around here. She was getting tired of nothing but bad news and death. The silence in the room was resounding. She wanted to talk to him but had no idea what about. And he deserved more than small talk. Hell, they all did.
"On my way out," she said. "I swear I left some hot water."
He managed a weak smile. "I don't think I'd notice if it was cold at this point, as long as there's soap."
"The rest of your team?" Sam inquired. The sound of her boot zipper echoed off the lockers. She stood, smoothed a few wrinkles out of her skirt and blouse and gave her boots a stamp, settling her feet into place. Sheppard watched, looking vaguely amused.
He sighed when she looked at him and answered, "Still in the infirmary. Babbis, Wallace and the botanist all managed to sprain or strain something this time. All three of them fell into some sort of nettle patch. Lam's observing them for twenty-four hours in case of a delayed allergic reaction." His expression darkened when he mentioned allergies.
"Well, the showers are all yours then, Colonel," she said, thinking at least he brought his team home, all of them still alive. She detoured around him and stepped into the corridor with a small smile and a nod. She was half-way to the elevators when she turned back and took up a station outside the locker room doors, leaning against the wall. She'd bet Sheppard didn't have a clue McKay was around. Maybe telling him would improve Sheppard's mood. He'd been distant just now, and it wasn't just that he wasn't gelling with his new team or post-mission exhaustion.
She was still trying to decide if he'd want to see McKay when Sheppard came through the doors, saw her and gave her a puzzled look. His hair was still damp and he'd pulled a button-down shirt over his t-shirt. Jeans and tennis shoes signaled he was on his way out of the Mountain too.
He raked his fingers through his hair. "I thought you were heading out?" He sounded curious, but not terribly interested. His gaze moved past her, down the corridor to the elevators and he turned away. Escape beckoned apparently. Sam would have been a little insulted if she hadn't been just that weary and desperate to get away from the job sometimes.
"As soon as I can drag McKay out of the labs, yeah."
Sheppard's back suddenly looked painfully straight and unmoving. When he turned again, it appeared to be with great difficulty. "McKay's here?" His voice was cautious, tight and controlled.
"Flown in to save the world while I was gone," Sam said. "Thank god he was around."
"Yeah. Thank god." The words were dripping with cynicism. The vibe from the Sheppard was different, this time, with a sharper edge than she saw in him last, on Atlantis. She didn't blame him. Landry had already privately confided in SG-1 that all the Atlantis crew would be kept separate and distant; something about too many alphas and post-traumatic stress. She wasn't sure that was a good idea, but it did mean that here and now, on a personal level, she could offer something she was pretty sure no one else could: Time and an open ear, and no questions asked.
"I thought orders had been to keep McKay away from here?" Sheppard's tone was light, but the underlying accusation was impossible to miss.
Landry had been pretty clear that Atlantis personnel - McKay especially - weren't to work on Atlantis gathered data. Not so soon, anyway.
"Yeah. They were. Odd how people's minds change when the world is about to end, isn't it?"
Clearly, Sheppard wasn't thrilled that Rodney was being kept, as he probably saw it, back burner. Sam wasn't sure if she disagreed. Keeping them from the things they loved and missed might be better for acclimating them back to Earth, but she wasn't so sure it was good for their mental stability. Even after four weeks, Sheppard still carried the kind of exhaustion that came from hopelessness. Atlantis was gone, back in the hands of her rightful owners, and they'd been abandoned instead.
Four weeks wasn't enough to expect them to get over this. Despite what the base psychologists had confided to Landry, she wasn't sure they would ever recover. Not really.
"Yeah, what are the odds," he said. The sheer cynicism in his tone took her breath away. If he sounded like that with Landry or other superiors, no wonder his career track had stalled. Sam loved and respected both the Air Force and the SGC. Sheppard sounded almost contemptuous. Not contemptuous the way McKay was, either. Bitter and knowing. Sam knew he couldn't have been like this in Atlantis, couldn't have functioned if he was, and cursed the psychologists again. They just didn't get it, not what it was like to be on a team, or off-planet, and certainly not what the returned Atlantis personnel felt. She didn't think she got that, but treating them the way they were wasn't working.
He shrugged. "No player has an incentive to deviate in a Nash equilibrium." His mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "Of course, that presumes they are using optimal strategy and don't just think they are. Human interaction is always based on imperfect information, though."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Game theory?"
He shrugged again.
"I didn't realize you were that good at math."
"Yeah, well, neither did anyone else until Rodney."
"Let me guess: since anything else would be a waste of his time, he's been using and abusing that since day one?" she asked, feeling the corners of her eyes crinkle with the upcoming smile.
"I never thought I'd be considered a personal pocket calculator one day," he said, drawling a touch.
Sam had to bite her tongue to keep the comment that was ready to spill out inside. Sarcasm aside, Sheppard had clearly enjoyed working with Rodney and that was something else returning to Earth has taken away. Instead she said, "I know the feeling."
"You are a personal pocket calculator?"
Sam surprised herself with the loud laugh. "As a matter of fact, yes."
"Never met one before." Sheppard grinned, the tension finally broken. It made him look years younger. He stuck out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Sam took his hand, shook it and mirrored his grin, feeling warm for the first time in weeks. Sheppard's hand was large and warm, had nicks and calluses in places she was familiar with. A good hand.
Unlike most other soldiers she'd encountered, there was no obligatory contest of wills as Sheppard squeezed back. Just warmth and pressure that felt good. He was as frayed as she was. Sam felt more grateful than she could say, warming up to Sheppard even more than she already had.
They walked together to the elevators and then on along the hallway leading to the labs when suddenly something banged loudly, then shattered and a cacophony of voices sounded from the lab. Sheppard winced, just like she did. "I hope that wasn't expensive," he said.
"It probably was."
Sheppard ran a hand through his still-damp hair, looking awkward, uncomfortable. "Sorry."
They had almost reached the lab's open door. Sam slowed her steps and shrugged, unwilling to let their conversation end. "We've all done it. He throws things, I blow them up. Same old, same old." A smirk in his direction as she remembered McKay complaining loud and often about the military's penchant for shooting things as a first option. "I've heard you shoot things."
Sheppard halted as well, looking mock-offended. "You've been talking to McKay about me, haven't you?"
"He may have mentioned you once or twice," she said, enjoying his put-upon pout. Sam let him stew for a while, then added: "In the first five minutes."
"Well, he talked about you enough."
Sam pulled a grimace. "Tell me he didn't share any of his fantasies."
Sheppard's mouth twitched. "The one in lab three was good, but the one in the shower?" He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, mirth sparkling. "That one took a gold medal."
"If I weren't absolutely sure you're spinning the biggest lie possible," she said, conversationally, "I'd have to hurt you."
He grinned at her, unrepentant. "No chance."
"Hand-to-hand combat trained by Teal'c," Sam stated.
"Stick-fighting with Teyla and hand-to-hand with Ronon." There was a definite preen in his voice, head tilted proudly, before a shadow flitted over his face. He continued, "Besides, would you engage a fellow officer?"
She copied his smirk as best as she could. "Yes. I would."
She didn't bother to mention that she was his senior in rank, because it really didn't matter. With Sheppard, talking was as easy as it only was with Cam - the same rank, same service, similar experiences - military brats recognized each other. She could let go of some of the usual boundaries. No need to be overly polite or careful. The easy back-and-forth just felt good, comfortable like a favorite shirt, soft with many washings.
"I could totally take you."
She smirked, crinkling her nose at him. "And I could kill you with my brain."
Sheppard blinked, then abruptly threw his head back and laughed - a wonderfully warm and dirty laugh that made Sam smile herself.
***
John was perfectly aware that the brass didn't want Atlantis veterans hanging out together; they'd done everything they could to separate all of them. He'd invited himself to accompany Colonel Carter to the labs anyway. If he hadn't run into her, if she hadn't mentioned it, he would never have known until too late that Rodney was on the base. It made him quietly fume.
Not Carter's fault, though, and he found himself relaxing into the sort of light banter he'd shared with Rodney more than once, until she came out with the same threat Rodney used regularly. It made him laugh, because he doubted she'd appreciate the comparison, but she and Rodney were really alike.
He wasn't sure what he said when they walked into the lab, his eyes were searching for Rodney already, and his stomach dropped through to his boots when he did find him because he looked terrible. Unshaven, pasty, bruised around the eyes, so obviously at the end of some marathon effort, too wired and paranoid to lay down and sleep unless someone he trusted made him...
"...a real dork," Carter said and he blinked at her and replied on automatic. "Yeah, I've been called that."
He set his hand on the door jamb and leaned, because stuffing his hands in his pockets just didn't feel natural, setting them on his hips made him look angry and crossing his arms the way he wanted to made his own insecurity too damn obvious with someone as sharp-eyed as Sam Carter in the same room.
He wanted to walk across the lab, wrap a hand around Rodney's arm and tug him to his feet. Wanted to take him home to his crappy apartment and tuck him into the queen-sized bed that was about twice as wide as anything they'd ever shared in Atlantis. He couldn't though, couldn't breathe a word and wasn't even sure Rodney would welcome it if he could.
This was Earth and Rodney didn't have to settle for a buddyfuck and a series of surreptitious handjobs snatched in between crises. Rodney could snag himself someone like Sam Carter. Maybe he already had, John thought a little bitterly, taking in Carter's blue-striped blouse, black skirt and high boots. Maybe she'd dressed for Rodney and they meant to go out together and he was just...in the way.
He had to close his eyes at that thought, had to not look at Rodney, before anyone noticed the hunger in his gaze. This was no place to give away a clue to what they'd been doing before, back in Atlantis. Especially when he didn't know if they were ever going to do it again.
He sucked in a deep breath, opened his eyes and smiled at Carter with deliberate charm.
***
Rodney jerked his head up, hearing a familiar voice. He blinked owlishly at the doorway, at the two people stepping into the lab.
"Yeah, I've been called that," John said.
God. John was back. It had been five weeks now. Rodney's throat felt tight, the skin around his jaw prickling. He needed to shave, probably. Dress-regs had never been a high priority, no doubt because of Lieutenant Colonel 'eight a.m. shadow' Sheppard, but Rodney usually found the time at least every other day. It'd been... how long had it been? At least a few days. Three? No, more. Since the damn ancient weapon had almost blown up the planet.
They'd dragged him out of Area 51 faster than he could blink, to work a miracle while their usual miracle worker was MIA offworld. He'd hoped to see John again, see if he was already working his ass off and developing a couple more gray hairs and a new ulcer, but John was offworld as well. It had felt like a punch in the gut.
The combined laughter of Sam and John - when he hadn't known they were both back, much less together - felt like another one.
Rodney hunched forward, both wanting to burn their images into his brain and not wanting to look up at them again. One look had been enough. Sam, dressed up for a date - those boots just shouldn't make her look so damn hot - and Sheppard - John, god - in faded blue jeans and Rodney's favorite shirt. There was no way they hadn't hooked up since he'd last been here.
It wasn't like he hadn't been dreading this, in a way, but that didn't help things now. Rodney had no problem imagining John being the dorky, edged-with-sadness mystery who wrapped Sam around his little finger. Just a few lines murmured in his low, sexy voice. Maybe he'd had his hip cocked and that damned smirk. It was all just too easy. "Call me John," he'd drawl, which everyone knew meant Sleep with me now. You know you want to. Never mind that Rodney had never heard John tell anyone to call him by his first name. And he could out-chill an arctic weather front with anyone who presumed against his wishes. Rodney'd seen and heard him charm women without benefit of first names often enough before, though. Not him, of course; John hadn't bothered with seduction when they were both desperate, pumped too full of adrenaline to care. Rodney hadn't wanted seduction, anyway. Hell, he probably would've laughed. Need had been their driving reason. Need, familiarity and proximity.
Of course Sam and John would hit it off. They'd been friendly enough during SG-1's last visit to - to the place he didn't live in, anymore. It hadn't been a long enough visit for any kind of meaningful dialogue, but Rodney had known with fatalistic certainty even then that if they had the chance, it would happen. They were both attractive to him for similar reasons after all, reasons that would attract them to each other too.
Sam even liked Back to the Future. She'd be good for John. He'd be good for her. And he, Rodney, would still be here in this damn lab while they planned their honeymoon. A saner portion of his mind pointed out that he'd taken them from walking into the lab together to married in one giant leap of jealousy, but that didn't really help.
He wished he had more of a poker face.
Frowning at a piece of what might've been an irreplaceable Ancient crystal, Rodney glumly tried to put two fragmented edges together. The break was jagged, with small shards missing. Unfixable after the averted explosion. Just like most things in Rodney's life. Normally it took at least two bottles of something high proof to get him this morose, but he felt he was allowed, now. They'd just been summarily kicked out. The SGC had even less idea what to do with them. And John had already forgotten him and had moved onto his next conquest: Samantha Carter, the only truly untouchable thing in Rodney's life.
He should probably hate John for that. It wasn't like he didn't know how Rodney felt. He didn't have enough energy to hate John. He was too furious over everything else. Sure, they came crying to him when some idiot triggered a major overload in a weapon none of them understood, but did they let him work on the Ancient technology in Antarctica? No. They even gave to Jumper Project to Bill Lee. Bill Effing Lee. That should have been Radek's. Lee was a hack compared to Radek, who had three years experience working with jumpers. But no...
It was so fucking unfair it made his pulse into a rushing noise in his ears. He'd lost everything. His work, Atlantis, John...now John was wrecking his dream of Carter. The pretty lab in Area 51 was a bad joke and he was wasting his time proving theories to idiots when he'd worked with the fruit of those theories for years.
Maybe he should just go get drunk and be done with it. Maybe he should hate Sam too, perfect, inspired Sam Carter, who apparently got to have John, like losing Atlantis hadn't been bad enough, Rodney had to lose the only other wonder that had been wholly his. Maybe he did. Love and hate really could exist within the same heart.
Rodney groaned and let his chin sink to his chest. He was being ridiculous. He knew he was. That just made it all the worse.
John should have known, should have cared at least enough not to parade it in front of Rodney.
And yet here he was, showing off his relationship with Sam - damn it, even in the lab now, they were still standing side by side, too damn close - as though he were clueless about how much it would torture Rodney.
If they weren't going to say hi and at least fake some niceties, then they could at least take their damn romance crap somewhere else. Anywhere else. Somewhere far enough away that he could scrub the images of them together from his mind. God, they'd be so hot together. It was far too easy to imagine, and his mind was merciless. He hadn't actually ever seen Sam naked, but his imagination was vivid. That long, graceful body with round, perfect breasts - he didn't think his hallucination was that off - up against John's body, which was surprisingly attractive given he always looked so damn skinny in his black shirt. His skin was so -
Pathetic. He was being pathetic.
When Kusbit timidly approached, Rodney pushed the data he still hadn't read to one side. "What?" he barked.
Instead of cowering, Kusbit actually tilted his head. He reminded Rodney of Miko, who had immediately flown back to Japan: her little bird like body, housing a brilliant mind. She still cried too much. "Dr. McKay, are you all right?" Kusbit asked.
"What? Of course I'm all right! I'm fine!" Banished from home, watching the two people he - he liked pair off like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Everything's just peachy!"
Instead of backing down, Kusbit just frowned, asking, "Are you sure? It's just that, um."
"Um? Don't you know how to speak English?"
"You're breaking the crystal. Again." Kusbit pointed to Rodney's hands, where he'd been mindlessly pressing the two edges of crystal together. He didn't know how long, but long enough and hard enough that pieces of it had started to flake off. Ancient crystals were made of some unknown material that could stand up to fire, flood, and Ronon methodically hacking away at a test crystal with a variety of weapons when intact.
Yet the one in his hand was growing smaller, piece by piece.
"Right," Rodney said, dropping the pieces quickly. "Just, ah, it's a belated reaction to the power-surge and pulling the crystals while they were charged, and, and - " Kusbit wasn't buying it. Rodney hated that almost tender expression, the one he'd seen on marine faces in Area 51 that could frighten small children as they escorted him back from too many late nights. The one that wasn't just pity, but was mixed with sympathy and understanding, too. "Whatever. I'm going."
"Home, Doctor?"
He sneered. Did they really think he could be led like that? He knew he was getting more irritable. Lack of sleep did that. He actually wouldn't mind sleeping if it didn't come neatly packaged with nightmares, the few times he managed to actually drop off. God, he wished Carson were still here. Calling medical doctors 'good' always made Rodney laugh, but Carson was. He always prescribed sleeping pills to Rodney without complaint. The base doctor wasn't nearly so accommodating. "Do I report to you? No. Do you care where I'm going? No. I'm just - I'm going."
There was just one thing he had to do, first.
It nearly took more energy than he had to tidy his lab-bench. His stomach hurt, twisting itself into smaller and smaller knots, and his throat was so dry it felt like it was permanently blocked. His head was starting to ache. He didn't stop, though, just put things away, mechanically and out of habit, and then brushed the fragments of crystal into a container. Some unlucky soul would have to deal with that, later. He didn't care. His work here was done. Not that he'd gotten a single thank-you for it. God, he missed Elizabeth and her slim hand squeezing his shoulder.
Clearing his throat, Rodney folded his hands behind his back. It wasn't the parade rest John went into when he wasn't thinking. It was just a way for him to keep his hands still. That was all.
"Hi." He kept his speech monosyllabic on purpose, not trusting himself to remain polite. "You're back. Colonel. Lieutenant Colonel."
"Doctor," John said back, his mouth quirking upward. He looked happy, right then. It almost felt as though John was glad to see... Rodney stopped the thought before he could finish it. Of course John was happy. Just look at Sam. "C'mon, McKay, what's up? You're never formal."
Just never when John expected it. Smiling felt like repeatedly stabbing himself in the face, but he had to do this. Masochistic though it may be it was necessary for himself, since he doubted either of them wanted his blessing. "You missed the near-apocalypse by half a day while you were busy..." He trailed off, indicating them both. "I didn't, so I'll leave now. So, if you could step aside, I'll just-" He couldn't help lifting one hand to jerk over his shoulder. Tucking it back down, he tried to smile again, lifting his chin. "Right, then. Um. Good night. Colonel. Lieutenant Colonel."
If he could just make it to the door, he'd be okay. Noble, the better man, for once.
Only three more steps.
Two.
One.
Almost out, almost -
"What about the crystals, McKay?"
Rodney's steps faltered for a second. His neck prickled and he had to swallow down the rant that was building inside of him. How could that woman be so dense? It wasn't about the crystals. It wasn't about him being tired or burned out or hungry. It was -
He shook his head and kept walking. Didn't turn back. Not even when he heard both of them calling out after him. He made it to the elevator; didn't turn around to see them both walking side by side, didn't turn around to see their shoulders touching. The door cut off John's damn drawled "Hey, buddy, what's - "
Rodney let his head sink against the cool metal of the elevator. Motion sickness and something more ugly knotted his stomach. The knowledge that he was being replaced. Both John and Sam had found what they'd been looking for in each other, someone who was smart and sexy but less complicated, not so high-maintenance. The sudden stab of loneliness was almost physical. They had found each other while he was gone, so then why couldn't they at least leave him alone, now, allow him his gracious exit? He knew they weren't used to it. But, damn them, he was better than they thought he was. Much better. He wanted to throw things. Break something that was important to John and Sam.
Sheer jealousy had his stomach churning, acid burning up his throat until he could taste it, sour and ugly, in his mouth.
Damn it.
Well, despite what everyone thought, he could do noble. He was going to hold his head high, duck any questions and just leave, so the two of them could keep riding off towards their sunset. It was a stupid image, particularly since Sam was nearly as tall as John, and that was probably too much weight for Rodney's imaginary horse, and anyway why would John want to ride a horse when he'd much prefer a plane or a puddle jumper or even a skate board and -
The elevator doors whooshed open. Rodney windmilled, almost falling, a distinct lack of coordination coming from no sleep, but recovered in time. He didn't care who saw him, and it was clear by the snickers and one concerned, "Are you all right, Doctor?" that quite a few people had. He wasn't obsessing anymore, though. That was very important.
Stomping up to the gate, Rodney glared. The soldier on duty took it calmly.
Fucker.
"Oh, just give me the damned paper work," he snapped. The guard - Jameson? Jaime? Something J - smirked back, far too like John for Rodney's peace of mind, and handed over the first of the too many forms Rodney had to fill out. He scrawled hurriedly. Time was important, since the goal was to reach his car before John and Sam made it up to the surface - if they even bothered.
Rodney's pen froze. Oh, god. Would that be worse? To know that he was right, and therefore they wouldn't even try to catch him?
The paper tore.
"Shit! Sorry, sorry, let me just - no, no, I really don't need to fill out anoth - fine. Yes, yes, whatever. Fine."
They weren't going to come. It'd been long enough that they should have and really, he didn't need any more proof than that.
Sam was perfect. Hadn't he said that, often enough? Hadn't he wanted her especially because of that? Just call him Cyrano. No, that wasn't quite right, John didn't need anyone to write his words for him and Rodney was distinctly lacking in silver-tongued charm, but he'd probably been the one to alert John to what a prize Sam Carter was.
He wished he didn't know how sad he was acting. This whole line of thinking was deeply pathetic. The rational part of him knew this, knew that he should just think rationally and analyze the situation without the emotional investment he had, and with a lot more sleep in his system. The other part just wanted to howl like a wounded animal.
***
part 2
The story was too long for one LJ-entry, which means we had to cut it in three parts for posting purposes. So, for those of you who don't like clicking through entries, a link to the story outside of LJ is provided at the end of part 3.
Authors: auburnnothenna and eretria (with initial co-writing by ladycat777)
auburnanderetria
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes, not profit.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 25.100
Spoilers: The Return, Part I
Characters: Samantha Carter, Rodney McKay, John Sheppard
Authors' Notes: No stick figures were harmed in the course of writing this fic. A heartfelt thank you to ladycat777 for her generous co-writing in the beginning. Beta-read by enname. Thank you.
Summary: Five weeks after the Atlantis expedition returns to Earth, Sam Carter runs into John and Rodney, and they try to make do with what they can have, at least for one night.
Sam stumbled through the gate, bent forward, resting her hands on her knees, panting.
Cameron's boots were loud on the ramp before the sound of the gate disengaging swallowed the clanking.
Blood rushed in her ears. For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the burning in her legs and chest. Pictures assaulted her, making her screw her eyes shut. No avail. Everything replayed itself in her mind's eye.
A hand on her shoulder made her tense.
"Sam, are you - "
Sam straightened, abrupt and painful. Locked gazes with Cameron in a warning. "Not now."
She could see his need to reach out, to comfort, to help, to talk, but Sam shook her head, short and sharp. "Not now, Cam."
***
Endless post mission exam, endless debrief. She couldn't remember the last time she'd looked forward to a shower this much. Just to wash the dirt and sweat and fear stench off. Her mind was already under the shower spray when Landry caught her arm before she could leave his office.
Sam straightened, falling into parade rest without a conscious effort. "Sir."
"McKay's here."
Something twisted in her stomach. The name alone was enough to remind her of what she still tried to ignore - Atlantis lost to them, Jack a galaxy away, the Ancients unwilling to help in the fight against the Ori ... The missions that were almost daily now kept those thoughts at bay, usually. The bone-deep exhaustion left no room for what-if's.
But McKay here instead of in Area 51 ... Well, it had been more than four days since she'd gone on this mission with a stand-in team. Daniel, Vala and Teal'c were still with the council. Something must have gone really haywire if they'd flown in McKay despite the silent SGC agreement that he should not work in Cheyenne for at least a year. Acclimate, they'd said. She'd wanted to hit people the first time she'd heard it and it was no better now.
Before, McKay's presence would have made her edgy. His obvious interest in her made uncomfortable, she wasn't used to this direct kind of attention.
Now, his presence was just a relief. Another last minute fix, she knew realistically, wouldn't have been possible for her now. She had her own problems, her own demons to fight. Demons that kept reminding her that whoever walked through the gate with a team should come back with one.
McKay's presence here gave her time to breathe, the distance she needed, and damn, she'd probably kiss him if he wouldn't preen about it for weeks.
"Not curious why, Colonel?"
She gave Landry a tired smile that took an effort to form. "The world was about to end," she said, shrugging, "or you wouldn't have let him come back here."
Landry's barely perceptible wince was a satisfaction in and of itself. He reached for his coffee mug and smiled, an evasive smile. "You should go and catch up." A sip. "And make him take a damn break while you're down there. The lab-rats are ready to stage a rebellion."
"Sir." She nodded, indicated her head toward the door.
Landry finally waved his hand, dismissing her.
McKay was here. Sam hooked a thumb into her right pant-pocket as she headed out of his office.
But, really, Sam had to admit, it would improve her own mood as well. Apart from his abrasive nature, she'd always liked McKay. He was one of the few people on the planet who understood her without explanations, he had a sense of humor and was chivalrous in the oddest moments. Not to mention that cute ass. Not that she ever told him that. She wasn't insane, after all.
Upon reaching the communal showers, she stripped fast. Smiled into the shower spray, her earlier fantasy finally reality, diverting her briefly from her own problems. The klaxons alerting the base to a wormhole activation rang against the tiles, but cut off and no further alerts followed. Sam sucked in a deep breath. Just another gate team returning then. No reason to rush back into BDUs and bolt for the control room. The labs and McKay were still her goal.
She wasn't really up for snark or catching up, nor even a couple of good, long looks at McKay's ass, but it would be better than going home alone to her empty, stuffy house. It might even be refreshing. Time to compartmentalize. Time to push the demons to the side. They could wait until she'd had some distraction.
***
Sam made into the locker room and into her clothes before the influx of men from whichever team had made it back hit the showers. Thank God for mandatory post-mission medical exams. She pulled on her knee high boots in a slow, tired move. Good girls wore panty hose, but, damn it, she liked the feel of the soft leather sliding against her bare skin. She'd get away with no hose since she'd shaved her legs anyway. Before this last wretched mission, she had come in here in a skirt, something she didn't do often, but back then, she had hoped that it would be an easy, short mission and that she'd have time to go for dinner with Dr. Lam later. It was time to give her a chance. The boots had been necessary, too cold for sandals in October. The chill in the air outside transferred to the hallways under the mountain as well. In all her years down here, she had never managed to get really warm. Maybe it was the mountain. Tonight, it was the mission, too, chilling her to the bone.
She actually looked forward to fulfilling Landry's request of getting McKay out of the lab. Getting both of them out from under the Mountain. She'd never admit it out loud - his head would explode if he knew - but she liked the looks he gave her, and she knew that the skirt and boots combo would help her agenda.
"Colonel Carter." The voice startled her out of her thoughts. Sam looked up from the zipper of her left boot and found Colonel Sheppard standing at the entrance of the locker room, clad in a mud-spattered uniform, clumps of something green and oozing in his hair, looking ready to collapse.
She forced a smile on her face and tipped her head at him. "Colonel Sheppard."
He gave her a bleak, tired look. "You done in here?" He entered the room now that he had announced his presence. Sam saw a few livid bruises on his arms and a scratch along his cheek and her hand went to her own arm, unthinking. Looked as though Sheppard's mission hadn't gone well, either. Sam fought the urge to run both hands through her hair in frustration. Someone should have a good day around here. She was getting tired of nothing but bad news and death. The silence in the room was resounding. She wanted to talk to him but had no idea what about. And he deserved more than small talk. Hell, they all did.
"On my way out," she said. "I swear I left some hot water."
He managed a weak smile. "I don't think I'd notice if it was cold at this point, as long as there's soap."
"The rest of your team?" Sam inquired. The sound of her boot zipper echoed off the lockers. She stood, smoothed a few wrinkles out of her skirt and blouse and gave her boots a stamp, settling her feet into place. Sheppard watched, looking vaguely amused.
He sighed when she looked at him and answered, "Still in the infirmary. Babbis, Wallace and the botanist all managed to sprain or strain something this time. All three of them fell into some sort of nettle patch. Lam's observing them for twenty-four hours in case of a delayed allergic reaction." His expression darkened when he mentioned allergies.
"Well, the showers are all yours then, Colonel," she said, thinking at least he brought his team home, all of them still alive. She detoured around him and stepped into the corridor with a small smile and a nod. She was half-way to the elevators when she turned back and took up a station outside the locker room doors, leaning against the wall. She'd bet Sheppard didn't have a clue McKay was around. Maybe telling him would improve Sheppard's mood. He'd been distant just now, and it wasn't just that he wasn't gelling with his new team or post-mission exhaustion.
She was still trying to decide if he'd want to see McKay when Sheppard came through the doors, saw her and gave her a puzzled look. His hair was still damp and he'd pulled a button-down shirt over his t-shirt. Jeans and tennis shoes signaled he was on his way out of the Mountain too.
He raked his fingers through his hair. "I thought you were heading out?" He sounded curious, but not terribly interested. His gaze moved past her, down the corridor to the elevators and he turned away. Escape beckoned apparently. Sam would have been a little insulted if she hadn't been just that weary and desperate to get away from the job sometimes.
"As soon as I can drag McKay out of the labs, yeah."
Sheppard's back suddenly looked painfully straight and unmoving. When he turned again, it appeared to be with great difficulty. "McKay's here?" His voice was cautious, tight and controlled.
"Flown in to save the world while I was gone," Sam said. "Thank god he was around."
"Yeah. Thank god." The words were dripping with cynicism. The vibe from the Sheppard was different, this time, with a sharper edge than she saw in him last, on Atlantis. She didn't blame him. Landry had already privately confided in SG-1 that all the Atlantis crew would be kept separate and distant; something about too many alphas and post-traumatic stress. She wasn't sure that was a good idea, but it did mean that here and now, on a personal level, she could offer something she was pretty sure no one else could: Time and an open ear, and no questions asked.
"I thought orders had been to keep McKay away from here?" Sheppard's tone was light, but the underlying accusation was impossible to miss.
Landry had been pretty clear that Atlantis personnel - McKay especially - weren't to work on Atlantis gathered data. Not so soon, anyway.
"Yeah. They were. Odd how people's minds change when the world is about to end, isn't it?"
Clearly, Sheppard wasn't thrilled that Rodney was being kept, as he probably saw it, back burner. Sam wasn't sure if she disagreed. Keeping them from the things they loved and missed might be better for acclimating them back to Earth, but she wasn't so sure it was good for their mental stability. Even after four weeks, Sheppard still carried the kind of exhaustion that came from hopelessness. Atlantis was gone, back in the hands of her rightful owners, and they'd been abandoned instead.
Four weeks wasn't enough to expect them to get over this. Despite what the base psychologists had confided to Landry, she wasn't sure they would ever recover. Not really.
"Yeah, what are the odds," he said. The sheer cynicism in his tone took her breath away. If he sounded like that with Landry or other superiors, no wonder his career track had stalled. Sam loved and respected both the Air Force and the SGC. Sheppard sounded almost contemptuous. Not contemptuous the way McKay was, either. Bitter and knowing. Sam knew he couldn't have been like this in Atlantis, couldn't have functioned if he was, and cursed the psychologists again. They just didn't get it, not what it was like to be on a team, or off-planet, and certainly not what the returned Atlantis personnel felt. She didn't think she got that, but treating them the way they were wasn't working.
He shrugged. "No player has an incentive to deviate in a Nash equilibrium." His mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "Of course, that presumes they are using optimal strategy and don't just think they are. Human interaction is always based on imperfect information, though."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Game theory?"
He shrugged again.
"I didn't realize you were that good at math."
"Yeah, well, neither did anyone else until Rodney."
"Let me guess: since anything else would be a waste of his time, he's been using and abusing that since day one?" she asked, feeling the corners of her eyes crinkle with the upcoming smile.
"I never thought I'd be considered a personal pocket calculator one day," he said, drawling a touch.
Sam had to bite her tongue to keep the comment that was ready to spill out inside. Sarcasm aside, Sheppard had clearly enjoyed working with Rodney and that was something else returning to Earth has taken away. Instead she said, "I know the feeling."
"You are a personal pocket calculator?"
Sam surprised herself with the loud laugh. "As a matter of fact, yes."
"Never met one before." Sheppard grinned, the tension finally broken. It made him look years younger. He stuck out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Sam took his hand, shook it and mirrored his grin, feeling warm for the first time in weeks. Sheppard's hand was large and warm, had nicks and calluses in places she was familiar with. A good hand.
Unlike most other soldiers she'd encountered, there was no obligatory contest of wills as Sheppard squeezed back. Just warmth and pressure that felt good. He was as frayed as she was. Sam felt more grateful than she could say, warming up to Sheppard even more than she already had.
They walked together to the elevators and then on along the hallway leading to the labs when suddenly something banged loudly, then shattered and a cacophony of voices sounded from the lab. Sheppard winced, just like she did. "I hope that wasn't expensive," he said.
"It probably was."
Sheppard ran a hand through his still-damp hair, looking awkward, uncomfortable. "Sorry."
They had almost reached the lab's open door. Sam slowed her steps and shrugged, unwilling to let their conversation end. "We've all done it. He throws things, I blow them up. Same old, same old." A smirk in his direction as she remembered McKay complaining loud and often about the military's penchant for shooting things as a first option. "I've heard you shoot things."
Sheppard halted as well, looking mock-offended. "You've been talking to McKay about me, haven't you?"
"He may have mentioned you once or twice," she said, enjoying his put-upon pout. Sam let him stew for a while, then added: "In the first five minutes."
"Well, he talked about you enough."
Sam pulled a grimace. "Tell me he didn't share any of his fantasies."
Sheppard's mouth twitched. "The one in lab three was good, but the one in the shower?" He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, mirth sparkling. "That one took a gold medal."
"If I weren't absolutely sure you're spinning the biggest lie possible," she said, conversationally, "I'd have to hurt you."
He grinned at her, unrepentant. "No chance."
"Hand-to-hand combat trained by Teal'c," Sam stated.
"Stick-fighting with Teyla and hand-to-hand with Ronon." There was a definite preen in his voice, head tilted proudly, before a shadow flitted over his face. He continued, "Besides, would you engage a fellow officer?"
She copied his smirk as best as she could. "Yes. I would."
She didn't bother to mention that she was his senior in rank, because it really didn't matter. With Sheppard, talking was as easy as it only was with Cam - the same rank, same service, similar experiences - military brats recognized each other. She could let go of some of the usual boundaries. No need to be overly polite or careful. The easy back-and-forth just felt good, comfortable like a favorite shirt, soft with many washings.
"I could totally take you."
She smirked, crinkling her nose at him. "And I could kill you with my brain."
Sheppard blinked, then abruptly threw his head back and laughed - a wonderfully warm and dirty laugh that made Sam smile herself.
***
John was perfectly aware that the brass didn't want Atlantis veterans hanging out together; they'd done everything they could to separate all of them. He'd invited himself to accompany Colonel Carter to the labs anyway. If he hadn't run into her, if she hadn't mentioned it, he would never have known until too late that Rodney was on the base. It made him quietly fume.
Not Carter's fault, though, and he found himself relaxing into the sort of light banter he'd shared with Rodney more than once, until she came out with the same threat Rodney used regularly. It made him laugh, because he doubted she'd appreciate the comparison, but she and Rodney were really alike.
He wasn't sure what he said when they walked into the lab, his eyes were searching for Rodney already, and his stomach dropped through to his boots when he did find him because he looked terrible. Unshaven, pasty, bruised around the eyes, so obviously at the end of some marathon effort, too wired and paranoid to lay down and sleep unless someone he trusted made him...
"...a real dork," Carter said and he blinked at her and replied on automatic. "Yeah, I've been called that."
He set his hand on the door jamb and leaned, because stuffing his hands in his pockets just didn't feel natural, setting them on his hips made him look angry and crossing his arms the way he wanted to made his own insecurity too damn obvious with someone as sharp-eyed as Sam Carter in the same room.
He wanted to walk across the lab, wrap a hand around Rodney's arm and tug him to his feet. Wanted to take him home to his crappy apartment and tuck him into the queen-sized bed that was about twice as wide as anything they'd ever shared in Atlantis. He couldn't though, couldn't breathe a word and wasn't even sure Rodney would welcome it if he could.
This was Earth and Rodney didn't have to settle for a buddyfuck and a series of surreptitious handjobs snatched in between crises. Rodney could snag himself someone like Sam Carter. Maybe he already had, John thought a little bitterly, taking in Carter's blue-striped blouse, black skirt and high boots. Maybe she'd dressed for Rodney and they meant to go out together and he was just...in the way.
He had to close his eyes at that thought, had to not look at Rodney, before anyone noticed the hunger in his gaze. This was no place to give away a clue to what they'd been doing before, back in Atlantis. Especially when he didn't know if they were ever going to do it again.
He sucked in a deep breath, opened his eyes and smiled at Carter with deliberate charm.
***
Rodney jerked his head up, hearing a familiar voice. He blinked owlishly at the doorway, at the two people stepping into the lab.
"Yeah, I've been called that," John said.
God. John was back. It had been five weeks now. Rodney's throat felt tight, the skin around his jaw prickling. He needed to shave, probably. Dress-regs had never been a high priority, no doubt because of Lieutenant Colonel 'eight a.m. shadow' Sheppard, but Rodney usually found the time at least every other day. It'd been... how long had it been? At least a few days. Three? No, more. Since the damn ancient weapon had almost blown up the planet.
They'd dragged him out of Area 51 faster than he could blink, to work a miracle while their usual miracle worker was MIA offworld. He'd hoped to see John again, see if he was already working his ass off and developing a couple more gray hairs and a new ulcer, but John was offworld as well. It had felt like a punch in the gut.
The combined laughter of Sam and John - when he hadn't known they were both back, much less together - felt like another one.
Rodney hunched forward, both wanting to burn their images into his brain and not wanting to look up at them again. One look had been enough. Sam, dressed up for a date - those boots just shouldn't make her look so damn hot - and Sheppard - John, god - in faded blue jeans and Rodney's favorite shirt. There was no way they hadn't hooked up since he'd last been here.
It wasn't like he hadn't been dreading this, in a way, but that didn't help things now. Rodney had no problem imagining John being the dorky, edged-with-sadness mystery who wrapped Sam around his little finger. Just a few lines murmured in his low, sexy voice. Maybe he'd had his hip cocked and that damned smirk. It was all just too easy. "Call me John," he'd drawl, which everyone knew meant Sleep with me now. You know you want to. Never mind that Rodney had never heard John tell anyone to call him by his first name. And he could out-chill an arctic weather front with anyone who presumed against his wishes. Rodney'd seen and heard him charm women without benefit of first names often enough before, though. Not him, of course; John hadn't bothered with seduction when they were both desperate, pumped too full of adrenaline to care. Rodney hadn't wanted seduction, anyway. Hell, he probably would've laughed. Need had been their driving reason. Need, familiarity and proximity.
Of course Sam and John would hit it off. They'd been friendly enough during SG-1's last visit to - to the place he didn't live in, anymore. It hadn't been a long enough visit for any kind of meaningful dialogue, but Rodney had known with fatalistic certainty even then that if they had the chance, it would happen. They were both attractive to him for similar reasons after all, reasons that would attract them to each other too.
Sam even liked Back to the Future. She'd be good for John. He'd be good for her. And he, Rodney, would still be here in this damn lab while they planned their honeymoon. A saner portion of his mind pointed out that he'd taken them from walking into the lab together to married in one giant leap of jealousy, but that didn't really help.
He wished he had more of a poker face.
Frowning at a piece of what might've been an irreplaceable Ancient crystal, Rodney glumly tried to put two fragmented edges together. The break was jagged, with small shards missing. Unfixable after the averted explosion. Just like most things in Rodney's life. Normally it took at least two bottles of something high proof to get him this morose, but he felt he was allowed, now. They'd just been summarily kicked out. The SGC had even less idea what to do with them. And John had already forgotten him and had moved onto his next conquest: Samantha Carter, the only truly untouchable thing in Rodney's life.
He should probably hate John for that. It wasn't like he didn't know how Rodney felt. He didn't have enough energy to hate John. He was too furious over everything else. Sure, they came crying to him when some idiot triggered a major overload in a weapon none of them understood, but did they let him work on the Ancient technology in Antarctica? No. They even gave to Jumper Project to Bill Lee. Bill Effing Lee. That should have been Radek's. Lee was a hack compared to Radek, who had three years experience working with jumpers. But no...
It was so fucking unfair it made his pulse into a rushing noise in his ears. He'd lost everything. His work, Atlantis, John...now John was wrecking his dream of Carter. The pretty lab in Area 51 was a bad joke and he was wasting his time proving theories to idiots when he'd worked with the fruit of those theories for years.
Maybe he should just go get drunk and be done with it. Maybe he should hate Sam too, perfect, inspired Sam Carter, who apparently got to have John, like losing Atlantis hadn't been bad enough, Rodney had to lose the only other wonder that had been wholly his. Maybe he did. Love and hate really could exist within the same heart.
Rodney groaned and let his chin sink to his chest. He was being ridiculous. He knew he was. That just made it all the worse.
John should have known, should have cared at least enough not to parade it in front of Rodney.
And yet here he was, showing off his relationship with Sam - damn it, even in the lab now, they were still standing side by side, too damn close - as though he were clueless about how much it would torture Rodney.
If they weren't going to say hi and at least fake some niceties, then they could at least take their damn romance crap somewhere else. Anywhere else. Somewhere far enough away that he could scrub the images of them together from his mind. God, they'd be so hot together. It was far too easy to imagine, and his mind was merciless. He hadn't actually ever seen Sam naked, but his imagination was vivid. That long, graceful body with round, perfect breasts - he didn't think his hallucination was that off - up against John's body, which was surprisingly attractive given he always looked so damn skinny in his black shirt. His skin was so -
Pathetic. He was being pathetic.
When Kusbit timidly approached, Rodney pushed the data he still hadn't read to one side. "What?" he barked.
Instead of cowering, Kusbit actually tilted his head. He reminded Rodney of Miko, who had immediately flown back to Japan: her little bird like body, housing a brilliant mind. She still cried too much. "Dr. McKay, are you all right?" Kusbit asked.
"What? Of course I'm all right! I'm fine!" Banished from home, watching the two people he - he liked pair off like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Everything's just peachy!"
Instead of backing down, Kusbit just frowned, asking, "Are you sure? It's just that, um."
"Um? Don't you know how to speak English?"
"You're breaking the crystal. Again." Kusbit pointed to Rodney's hands, where he'd been mindlessly pressing the two edges of crystal together. He didn't know how long, but long enough and hard enough that pieces of it had started to flake off. Ancient crystals were made of some unknown material that could stand up to fire, flood, and Ronon methodically hacking away at a test crystal with a variety of weapons when intact.
Yet the one in his hand was growing smaller, piece by piece.
"Right," Rodney said, dropping the pieces quickly. "Just, ah, it's a belated reaction to the power-surge and pulling the crystals while they were charged, and, and - " Kusbit wasn't buying it. Rodney hated that almost tender expression, the one he'd seen on marine faces in Area 51 that could frighten small children as they escorted him back from too many late nights. The one that wasn't just pity, but was mixed with sympathy and understanding, too. "Whatever. I'm going."
"Home, Doctor?"
He sneered. Did they really think he could be led like that? He knew he was getting more irritable. Lack of sleep did that. He actually wouldn't mind sleeping if it didn't come neatly packaged with nightmares, the few times he managed to actually drop off. God, he wished Carson were still here. Calling medical doctors 'good' always made Rodney laugh, but Carson was. He always prescribed sleeping pills to Rodney without complaint. The base doctor wasn't nearly so accommodating. "Do I report to you? No. Do you care where I'm going? No. I'm just - I'm going."
There was just one thing he had to do, first.
It nearly took more energy than he had to tidy his lab-bench. His stomach hurt, twisting itself into smaller and smaller knots, and his throat was so dry it felt like it was permanently blocked. His head was starting to ache. He didn't stop, though, just put things away, mechanically and out of habit, and then brushed the fragments of crystal into a container. Some unlucky soul would have to deal with that, later. He didn't care. His work here was done. Not that he'd gotten a single thank-you for it. God, he missed Elizabeth and her slim hand squeezing his shoulder.
Clearing his throat, Rodney folded his hands behind his back. It wasn't the parade rest John went into when he wasn't thinking. It was just a way for him to keep his hands still. That was all.
"Hi." He kept his speech monosyllabic on purpose, not trusting himself to remain polite. "You're back. Colonel. Lieutenant Colonel."
"Doctor," John said back, his mouth quirking upward. He looked happy, right then. It almost felt as though John was glad to see... Rodney stopped the thought before he could finish it. Of course John was happy. Just look at Sam. "C'mon, McKay, what's up? You're never formal."
Just never when John expected it. Smiling felt like repeatedly stabbing himself in the face, but he had to do this. Masochistic though it may be it was necessary for himself, since he doubted either of them wanted his blessing. "You missed the near-apocalypse by half a day while you were busy..." He trailed off, indicating them both. "I didn't, so I'll leave now. So, if you could step aside, I'll just-" He couldn't help lifting one hand to jerk over his shoulder. Tucking it back down, he tried to smile again, lifting his chin. "Right, then. Um. Good night. Colonel. Lieutenant Colonel."
If he could just make it to the door, he'd be okay. Noble, the better man, for once.
Only three more steps.
Two.
One.
Almost out, almost -
"What about the crystals, McKay?"
Rodney's steps faltered for a second. His neck prickled and he had to swallow down the rant that was building inside of him. How could that woman be so dense? It wasn't about the crystals. It wasn't about him being tired or burned out or hungry. It was -
He shook his head and kept walking. Didn't turn back. Not even when he heard both of them calling out after him. He made it to the elevator; didn't turn around to see them both walking side by side, didn't turn around to see their shoulders touching. The door cut off John's damn drawled "Hey, buddy, what's - "
Rodney let his head sink against the cool metal of the elevator. Motion sickness and something more ugly knotted his stomach. The knowledge that he was being replaced. Both John and Sam had found what they'd been looking for in each other, someone who was smart and sexy but less complicated, not so high-maintenance. The sudden stab of loneliness was almost physical. They had found each other while he was gone, so then why couldn't they at least leave him alone, now, allow him his gracious exit? He knew they weren't used to it. But, damn them, he was better than they thought he was. Much better. He wanted to throw things. Break something that was important to John and Sam.
Sheer jealousy had his stomach churning, acid burning up his throat until he could taste it, sour and ugly, in his mouth.
Damn it.
Well, despite what everyone thought, he could do noble. He was going to hold his head high, duck any questions and just leave, so the two of them could keep riding off towards their sunset. It was a stupid image, particularly since Sam was nearly as tall as John, and that was probably too much weight for Rodney's imaginary horse, and anyway why would John want to ride a horse when he'd much prefer a plane or a puddle jumper or even a skate board and -
The elevator doors whooshed open. Rodney windmilled, almost falling, a distinct lack of coordination coming from no sleep, but recovered in time. He didn't care who saw him, and it was clear by the snickers and one concerned, "Are you all right, Doctor?" that quite a few people had. He wasn't obsessing anymore, though. That was very important.
Stomping up to the gate, Rodney glared. The soldier on duty took it calmly.
Fucker.
"Oh, just give me the damned paper work," he snapped. The guard - Jameson? Jaime? Something J - smirked back, far too like John for Rodney's peace of mind, and handed over the first of the too many forms Rodney had to fill out. He scrawled hurriedly. Time was important, since the goal was to reach his car before John and Sam made it up to the surface - if they even bothered.
Rodney's pen froze. Oh, god. Would that be worse? To know that he was right, and therefore they wouldn't even try to catch him?
The paper tore.
"Shit! Sorry, sorry, let me just - no, no, I really don't need to fill out anoth - fine. Yes, yes, whatever. Fine."
They weren't going to come. It'd been long enough that they should have and really, he didn't need any more proof than that.
Sam was perfect. Hadn't he said that, often enough? Hadn't he wanted her especially because of that? Just call him Cyrano. No, that wasn't quite right, John didn't need anyone to write his words for him and Rodney was distinctly lacking in silver-tongued charm, but he'd probably been the one to alert John to what a prize Sam Carter was.
He wished he didn't know how sad he was acting. This whole line of thinking was deeply pathetic. The rational part of him knew this, knew that he should just think rationally and analyze the situation without the emotional investment he had, and with a lot more sleep in his system. The other part just wanted to howl like a wounded animal.
***
part 2
The story was too long for one LJ-entry, which means we had to cut it in three parts for posting purposes. So, for those of you who don't like clicking through entries, a link to the story outside of LJ is provided at the end of part 3.