FIC: "Snowflake" by helenkacan PG
Title: Snowflake
Author: helenkacan / Helena K.
Pairing: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Rating: Barely PG
Word Count: 4,830 words
Summary: Rodney brings John home for their third Christmas vacation together.
Disclaimer: Not mine (through no fault of my own).
Quickie Author's Note: This place DOES exist, though in its original state. Which meant 3 small bedrooms, one bathroom, and the kitchen with the pot-bellied stove. And, yes, the shack on stilts and the outhouse. I once got lost trying to find it in the dark among the trees. But it was my haven while I was growing up. I haven't been there for nearly three-quarters of my life, but I'll never forget the serenity of the place.
Snowflake
December, 2011
John didn't know what it was, but he was sure Rodney was up to ... something. They both had concurrent leave coming up for the holidays. With strengthened alliances in Pegasus, they'd been able to take winter holidays two years in a row and this year would be no different.
John was trying hard to figure out what Rodney's plans would involve. But, based on their past trips back to Earth, there wasn't enough data to come to any concrete conclusion.
In 2009, after he'd flown Atlantis back to its rightful place in Pegasus, he and Rodney had finally gotten on the same page about ... well, actually ... okay, he wasn't too keen on ever saying it aloud, but he could think it, really ... he could. Feelings. All that stuff. Of course, Rodney had called him a moron (but that was nothing new) and had dragged him off to Vancouver to show him off stay with Jeannie and family. After Jeannie had gotten over the shock - and it was a good thing the pot she'd been holding had been empty when it had tumbled to the floor out of her lax fingers - she'd been delighted. John wished he could have told Dave at the same time, but had to accept that he couldn't risk it. Not yet anyway. In any case, he'd been charmed when Madison had asked if she could take Uncle Rodney and Uncle John to school for Show and Tell. Apparently, same-sex parents were all the rage in the neighbourhood. Now uncles, on the other hand, might be a rarer commodity. In any case, Jeannie explained to Madison that her uncles would have to go back to work before school started up again. Madison pouted for exactly one minute (John counted), then dragged him off to her room to play Terminator Barbie.
In 2010, John and Rodney were able to visit Dave and his family openly as a couple. It had taken the current Administration another year before they'd rid themselves of those stupid, brainless, idiotic (John was channelling Rodney for sure) and unjust regs. There had been fallout, mostly from young, uneducated men whose views were too bigoted to accept having to deal openly with gay personnel. But the benefits were worth it. Retaining the services of highly-educated, motivated men and women who knew that they could no longer be discharged for a personal reason that reflected their true identities had made a difference. Even former discharged personnel were coming back in droves. They could have held a grudge, but didn't. There were a few of them on Atlantis already.
Dave was stunned. He'd had his suspicions, especially when Ronon had accompanied his brother to their father's funeral; but, this time, John identified Rodney proudly as both his partner and the highest-ranking civilian where they worked. After a day of Rodney's unrestrained ranting, Dave finally overcame his upbringing and need to offer hospitality-at-all-costs, engaging Rodney in a battle of wits over finances. John had just sat back and enjoyed the fireworks.
So, they'd done Jeannie and Dave. Perhaps Rodney wanted to go somewhere just to relax. John hoped that would be the case. They weren't kids any more. When he nagged Rodney, he received no hints other than the need to have warm clothing. Lots of it. John was amazed to think that Rodney would willingly expose himself to cold weather but thought that their destination must be very special.
When they'd gated through to the Mountain, Rodney dragged John shopping for clothing they'd never needed in Pegasus. Toques, scarves, gloves, parkas and thermal underwear. Also proper boots because Rodney said they'd be going walking. After an hour of shopping, John had a glazed look in his eyes. So Rodney picked out a couple of suitcases to pack the clothes in before calling the airman who'd driven them to store them in the trunk. Then Rodney took John to lunch in order to revive him. A couple of steaks and baked potatoes apparently did the trick.
Two hours later they were at the airport where there was a shiny Lear jet waiting for them. When John stared at it, then at Rodney, then back at the plane, Rodney made shooing motions with his hands. "Yes, yes, you're flying us to our destination. Pay no attention to the nice man dressed in a pilot's uniform - he's just coming along to satisfy the regs, though he's already filed the flight plan and we're all set to go." The airman had wisely stayed out of the way and was busy getting their new luggage and other essentials loaded onto the sleek plane.
John's raised eyebrow threatened to take up permanent residence in his hairline. "Just where are we going, Rodney?"
"Oh, just Canada. Ontario, to be exact. Well, Huntsville, to be precise. And then we'll have a short drive to Dwight on Lake of Bays. That's in Muskoka, if you didn't know it."
"Gee, thanks, Rodney. I always wanted a Canadian geography lesson." Sarcasm could have taken a lesson from the tone of John's voice.
"Well, then, you won't be disappointed. Now get yourself into that pilot's seat. I don't want to waste another moment of our leave."
John figured this must be one of those relationship issues, where you had to give your lover leeway to drive you crazy. But they were on leave, actually a real vacation, away from inquisitive if mostly accepting family eyes.
When they were in the air and headed in approximately the right direction and John had ascertained the flying distance to be 2220 klicks, he joined Rodney who was sprawled out on the luxurious seats, inhaling hand-made chocolates and cradling a snifter of cognac. He remembered how Rodney had sniffed with disdain at the pedestrian, cliché-filled spread Tunney had offered the last time: really, champagne and strawberries. Who still did that?
Between bites and sips and decadently flavoured kisses, John finally had a captive Rodney at his mercy. He learnt that they would be touching down in less than four hours at a private airport in Huntsville that belonged to a popular resort. He was impressed that Rodney could bulldoze his way through private property. Although, for all he knew, there could be serious McKay money involved, so he didn't pry too much. He also had his suspicions that Rodney might have coerced Tunney to pick up the tab for this particular jaunt. Considering what the idiot had dared to do, John figured he still had a ways to go before the debt could be considered settled.
Before John got too cozy beside Rodney, he was being shooed away in the direction of the cockpit. “Go on, get out of here. I know you want to fly her some more. And, if I'm about to take a nap, I'd rather know that you're at the controls.”
John answered the small smile with a lazy one of his own, then sauntered off to follow Rodney's advice. It was true this was no fighter jet, but he'd had his fill of war and relished the idea of flying something simply for sheer enjoyment.
When he returned, the plane about an hour from Huntsville, he found Rodney sound asleep and just snuggled next to him, drifting off easily himself. The next thing he knew, the pilot had already landed the plane.
Then there was the flurry of luggage unloading, Rodney dismissing the pilot who was now carrying skis, climbing into the sturdy rental - since when did John get relegated to the passenger side - and watching Rodney's expression become more animated as they drove closer to their destination.
John rubbed his hands and wished he'd kept his gloves with him. But Rodney had reassured him that the drive shouldn't take more than 20 minutes. So, this was apparently the other side of Canada. It was freezing out, though the brilliant glare of the sun over snow and ice made a welcoming difference.
When John heard Rodney point out the sign that said Dwight, he eased himself out of his slouched position to scan the terrain. Rodney had turned onto a narrow road that sloped gently downhill. And then they were at the bottom of it with an entire lake spread out before them. Rodney make a confident “Humph” sound and turned left, allowing John to keep staring at the pristine beauty of the water bordered by massive tracts of snow-covered evergreen trees. For a minute, John lost sight of the water as the road curved away from the lake. Then there was a break in the trees on his right. Rodney drove through it, emerging into a clearing. There was a modest, two-car garage on the left, a wooden picnic table on the right but, filling his view was a huge stone single-storey structure in a squat U-shape, the opening revealing a wood-floored solarium. There were additional glass-covered portions at either end.
Rodney parked closest to the right one. As John unfolded himself from the car, he quickly grabbed his gloves before helping to unload their luggage. He followed Rodney up the tiny ramp through the now-unlocked door into the mudroom leading to what appeared to be a modern kitchen. Rodney flicked the lights on. “First thing, boots off. Then, go make coffee while I park.”
John heard the thump of Rodney's boots before he rejoined him a few minutes later. Steaming mugs in hand, he followed Rodney into the rest of the lodge. Next to the kitchen was a bathroom. Beyond that, a small bedroom. Then came the grand room: enormous stone fireplace filling the front wall, homey couches and armchairs, area rugs, as well as a dining set. But the focus was the wall of windows to his right, revealing a porch that ran the length of the building, with roughly hewn tables and chairs on its deck. Beyond that, a forest of trees bisected by a wide stone stepped path leading down to the lake, a vista of blue that mirrored the sky above.
He looked up at Rodney, stunned. “Do you own this place?”
Rodney seemed taken aback by the question, fleeting pain flaring in his eyes. “Yes, yes, it's mine. Long story. Coffee first, then I'll tell you everything.”
John nodded and carried the mugs over to the table in front of one of the suede couches. For once, Rodney took his time downing his drink. But John could be patient. He owed Rodney that much at least.
“This place belonged to my uncle Max. Maxwell McKay. He had a successful business in Toronto, but he'd always liked to tinker, invent little things. That was one of the things we had in common. I remember calling him Uncle Double-M. Everyone else thought it was disrespectful, especially my parents, but he loved it and always equated it with James Bond's gadgets. When Jeannie was born and my parents couldn't take having me underfoot, especially when school was out, Uncle Max offered to take me off their hands.” Rodney's voice was bitter, his age not having dulled that particular memory.
“Oh, not that they believed his willingness or why he actually wanted to have me around, but they took him up on it and made sure I was invited every summer afterwards. They thought they were so clever, but I couldn't wait for summer to come around. I know, I know, me and the great outdoors, not a great combination. But Uncle Max and I worked on an electronic insect repellent decades before anyone else did, so that I could stay out without risking being bitten by something that might cause anaphylactic shock. It was the same thing with sunscreen. In those days, idiots were using baby oil to increase the amount of skin damage. He and I would create our own formulae and test them out. On me.”
Rodney laughed, a fond expression on his face. “I remember one year, my arms and legs were four different shades, so I hid under long sleeves and jeans for a week. But I never resented him for that or anything else. We both loved our experiments. He never applied for patents. He said he wasn't interested, that he had enough money from the business. His two sons were already grown up. I could say stuck up as well. I didn't get along with them whenever they came up.”
Rodney looked up suddenly, naked yearning that stunned John. “Do you know he's the reason why I built the bomb for my Grade Six Science Fair? When I told him what I intended to do originally, he said I wasn't thinking big enough. He urged me to make something that would go off with a big bang. He was so proud of me, even after the whole being interrogated by the CIA thing. And, no, I didn't rat on him. The bomb was all my idea.”
When Rodney stilled and didn't speak for a few minutes, John touched his arm. “What happened to him?”
Rodney sighed, then began to talk in a dull voice. “He came down with Alzheimer's. Spent a few years in a private facility. My aunt was too frail to handle him. When he died, all hell broke loose. You see, he left this place to me in his will. The cousins were furious and tried to have the will declared invalid, citing his mental confusion. What the ass-holes didn't count on was that Uncle Max had kept every single letter I'd sent him, even after I went away to university. And I - I can't believe I'm admitting this - I'd kept all of his letters also.”
Rodney seemed so close to tears that John moved his hand up to Rodney's shoulder, pulling him in to lean against his body. He felt Rodney shiver before the words started up again. “He's the first person in my family I ever loved who loved me back. He never thought I was a pain in the ass or too curious or demanding or whatever the hell my parents complained about. I'd never asked him for anything, certainly not money. Besides, I had plenty of scholarships. But to have this, that he thought it would symbolize something to me, it meant the world to me. I still remember the contesting of the will. I didn't know it at the time, but Aunt Myra had hidden the letters and presented them to the judge. My cousins couldn't do a thing. The judge ruled that there had been a prior relationship in good standing for many years despite my uncle's later deterioration. It wasn't as if the cousins weren't getting anything from the will. The business was extremely profitable and they split the proceeds. Aunt Myra kept the house and investments. But this place, this was all mine.”
John's arm was still around Rodney's shoulders. He could feel how the intensity of Rodney's revelations had taxed his body. He also remember how Dave had initially thought he'd come to the funeral only to contest their father's will. “Hey, buddy, how about you show me our bedroom. I think we could both do with some down time.”
Rodney nodded, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. They walked to the other end of the great room. John noticed another two bedrooms, facing front and back, before they reached the large master bedroom. John could tell from the construction that this was a later addition. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls at both ends were a dead giveaway. He pushed Rodney in the direction of the king sized bed.
Rodney was nearly a dead weight, but John managed to pull his legs up before lying down next to him. It was warm, they were both dressed, so he didn't bother with the covers. But he made sure to curl himself around Rodney's body, offering support and protection. John would not allow himself to fall asleep until he was certain Rodney was safe.
When John opened his eyes again, Rodney was still sleeping. It was nearly sunset. He could understand why Rodney had insisted on such a hectic pace when they'd left early this morning. It was a spectacular sight, one that Rodney shouldn't miss out on. He nudged Rodney's arm and whispered. “Hey, Rodney. Sun's going down. You're missing all the good stuff.”
John felt Rodney twitching but saw that his eyes remained closed. Rodney did manage to mumble at him, “Already got the good stuff here in bed.”
At that moment, John felt his heart couldn't get any fuller. He'd received other, equally rare compliments from Rodney over the years but, somehow, this one seemed to be the most appreciative and honest one. It made him feel good, but it wasn't enough to dissuade him from getting Rodney out of bed. He dragged him over to the back window wall sitting area. Rodney slumped down on one of the chairs, a sleepy, goofy smile his only expression. After John had taken the other chair, he reached over to grab Rodney's hand. And so they sat in silence while the sun continued on its peaceful descent to the water's edge. He didn't expect Rodney to speak at that moment. “If we ever get back here during the summer, we can watch the sun go down here, then see it go down again after a 30 minute walk around the lake. Uncle Max and I used to do that every year.”
And then Rodney seemed to be back to normal, remembering bits and pieces of the summers he'd spent with his uncle. He talked about them going out in the canoe or rowboat way after midnight to watch the Perseids in August. He said he wasn't sure, but it could have been such a tiny detail that made him choose astrophysics as a speciality.
Though it had become dark once the sun had set, John noticed that the room was not. At the base of both window walls, there were dim lights providing illumination. Rodney saw him staring. “Solar-powered lanterns. When I added on to the lodge, I also winterized it and installed solar-collecting panels above the sun porch.” Now Rodney was eager to show off for John. “Come on, I'll show you the neat trick about the sun porch.”
John had to obey, Rodney's excitement infectious. Back in the great room, Rodney stopped in front of the tall bookcase to the left of the fireplace. John heard the definite snick of a latch being released before the bookcase swung open to reveal a solid hidden door that led out onto the sun porch. John was expecting it to be cold, as its ceiling and unprotected wall were glass, but it was surprisingly warm, even though he wasn't wearing shoes.
Rodney drew his gaze upwards. “Coated glass. It means I can spend a lot longer out here without using UV protection. And I developed a type of airflow system to keep it from becoming stuffy out here after I enclosed the space.” John noticed the two shallow boxes at the base of the window wall.
Then Rodney was pulling him back inside the house. “I'm starving. Dinner should be on the table.” John's senses bristled. How could he have allowed himself to let his guard down. While he'd slept, there had been at least one person who'd entered the house without his knowledge. As his fingers twitched to grab an imaginary gun from an equally imaginary thigh holster, Rodney tried to soothe him. “Whoa, Colonel. It's okay. I have a couple who live on the property year round. Ren and Fay dropped dinner off. Fay makes a mean beef stew.”
John twirled around and realized that Rodney had called it. The table was set and included woven place-mats and napkins, a crock-pot holding the likely stew, a couple of baguettes, a bottle of red wine and two glasses. The fireplace was also lit. To John's surprise, it wasn't burning wood, but merely an electric appliance. Rodney noticed his surprise. “Oh, that. When I renovated, I filled in the chimney and installed this instead. Do you have any idea how inefficient real fireplaces are? Most of the heat goes up the chimney. And we certainly don't need any more pollution. I still remember chilly summer mornings - because there was no central heating - and I hated to crawl out from under the covers, even for coffee. There was also a pot-bellied stove in the old, tiny kitchen. And there was basic electricity. I rewired the entire place. There's also a dish behind a false front on top of the garage.”
Relaxed and reassured, John busied himself, serving them some of the hearty stew, pulling off chunks from the baguettes and pouring them both a glass of wine. There was no conversation as they ate the first bowl. Even Rodney seemed to be eating at a more normal pace. Perhaps this was exactly what Rodney needed from time to time, John thought, to be away from a lab, from never-ending experiments, or from life-threatening danger.
After John had dished out a smaller second helping, he asked, “So, where's this other house? And just what kind of a name is Ren?”
“There's a two-room cottage plus bathroom to the right of the stone path. When I first came up here, it used to be a one-room shack with a porch on stilts over the water. Uncle Max used it for overflow guests. And they had to use the outhouse. There's a much narrower diagonal path that leads down to it from the back porch. I had the cottage built before I made all the structural changes to the main building. Ren and Fay hired the contractors and made sure there was nothing being done illegally. I didn't want to have to threaten the construction guys with Mike Holmes.”
John's puzzled expression made Rodney pause. “Oh, he's like a bulldog version of Ronon against shoddy Canadian reno practices. Okay, where was I? Oh, right. Ren is short for Darren. His mother obviously watched too much Bewitched before he was born. He couldn't stand it, but it was harder to change names back then, so he insisted everyone call him Ren instead.”
When Rodney had fallen silent, apparently lost in thought again, John began to clear away the table. Rodney called after him, “Just rinse them and stack them in the dishwasher. Fay will do a load after breakfast.”
When John had returned, Rodney was sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, nursing his glass of wine. John poured himself a second glass and joined him. They sat for a while, simply staring at the attractive flickers of flame. Even fake, it still was satisfying. Rodney was mellow, to the extent that his eyelids were drooping and he was about to drop his empty glass. John grabbed it, placing both glasses on the hearthstone, then hoisted Rodney out of his soft cocoon.
As they neared the passageway to their bedroom, Rodney waved in the direction of a light switch panel. “Flick them all off and switch the red one on. It's a motion sensor detector. If it detects anything larger than a deer, it'll light up.” After a few steps, Rodney stopped. He pointed at the sliding doors that John had thought were closets. “Can's on the right. Tub and shower on the left. 'M too tired for a bath tonight, but tomorrow we can have one together. It's a whirlpool.” After they'd both availed themselves of the facilities, Rodney pointed to the brand new toothbrushes on the ledge of the washbasin. It felt odd but comforting, seeing himself and Rodney in the mirror, brushing their teeth together. Then John stopped analyzing and followed Rodney to bed. They stripped down to their boxers. Rodney stripped off his socks and insisted John do so as well. “You'll thank me in the morning. I've fiddled around with the thermostats. No more frigid air when we wake up.”
Before John's mind slid off-line, he needed clarification on one point. “Rodney, I'm not keen for strangers to be barging into the place - even if you're familiar with them. What if we're ... uh, you know?”
Rodney snorted. “The kitchen's Fay's territory. As long as we're not screwing like bunnies in there, we should be okay. Otherwise, she'll call out toward the great room before she enters with our meals. So, dress code for the great room is at least a robe, though you'll probably feel more relaxed wearing sweats with it. Ren doesn't usually come in. He'll busy himself in the garage, fixing things. And, if there's an emergency on either side, we have an intercom system connecting us to the cottage.” He pointed to the red button on the special phone. “Before you ask, all of the doors lock automatically.”
John allowed the tension to bleed away. Maybe things would be different here. After all, this was Canada, though that was small comfort as he remembered Jeannie's kidnapping. Still, everyone they'd encountered, even just driving down the road to the lake, had seemed to be pleasant enough. Besides, Rodney felt safe here. As, obviously, did Ren and Fay. He looked forward to meeting them tomorrow, as a polite gesture but also to make his own threat assessment.
John couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so peacefully. Being conked out in the Infirmary and on the good drugs didn't count. There was just something about this place, or it could have been Rodney's presence that soothed him.
In the morning, he woke to the smell of baking bread. He nudged Rodney who merely muttered about coffee. And that it was too early. John laughed as he dragged Rodney out of bed and propelled him in the direction of the room with the bath. In minutes, a red-faced Rodney was sputtering, having been splashed in the face by John. Which of course required retaliation. And, then, they just soaked any lingering worries out of their bones. When they were sufficiently pruney, this time Rodney was the one to hustle John out of the tub. “Food. Coffee. Now.”
Back in the bedroom, Rodney pointed to the suitcase in the corner that John hadn't noticed before. There was a change of clothing for each of them: socks, underwear, trousers, turtleneck sweaters. When they were both dressed, they returned to the great room. Once again, Fay had done her magic disappearing trick, but had left the results of her culinary skills on a warming tray on the table. There was the loaf of bread he'd smelled earlier, a pot of whipped butter, jam, bacon and poached eggs. A carafe of apple juice and a pot of coffee. They dug in eagerly until even Rodney couldn't take another bite. But that didn't stop him from waving the crisp strip of bacon in John's face. “Okay, buddy. I think you've had enough. We should take that walk now, since you made us pack for the weather. Why don't you show me everything that's special.”
Rodney gave him a grateful look. They quickly found their boots, gloves and parkas in a warm alcove off the mudroom. When they'd walked out, the stillness nearly overwhelmed John. It was as if he could hear every single snowflake landing gently on the ground. The crackle of the snow packed hard underneath their feet was calming, informing him that he hadn't lost his hearing. The sun seemed to be weaker today and he shivered, grabbing Rodney's hand and earning himself a questioning eyebrow. He shook his head, a brief gesture, but it quelled Rodney's curiosity. At least momentarily.
They strode down yet another tree-lined path that Rodney hadn't mentioned to him. This one ran parallel to the lodge from the kitchen presumably to the road. But, for once, John didn't need to know where he was going. This place ... with Rodney ... it felt like home to him. And, even though any religious beliefs had been replaced with cynical pragmatism through decades of living in war zones, surrounded by death and torture, he could only offer up a brief blessing of thanks to Rodney's uncle Max who had believed in him so much that he'd left him this haven. That he'd been genuinely a good and kind man to his nephew. And, as long as he was being frivolous, he thanked whatever powers-that-be for having kept him alive long enough to have met Rodney and to love him.
John broke the silence only once. “Rodney, I love this place.”
Rodney squeezed John's hand as they continued to walk. He understood exactly what John had just admitted.
And the snowflakes continued to fall.
Author: helenkacan / Helena K.
Pairing: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Rating: Barely PG
Word Count: 4,830 words
Summary: Rodney brings John home for their third Christmas vacation together.
Disclaimer: Not mine (through no fault of my own).
Quickie Author's Note: This place DOES exist, though in its original state. Which meant 3 small bedrooms, one bathroom, and the kitchen with the pot-bellied stove. And, yes, the shack on stilts and the outhouse. I once got lost trying to find it in the dark among the trees. But it was my haven while I was growing up. I haven't been there for nearly three-quarters of my life, but I'll never forget the serenity of the place.
Snowflake
December, 2011
John didn't know what it was, but he was sure Rodney was up to ... something. They both had concurrent leave coming up for the holidays. With strengthened alliances in Pegasus, they'd been able to take winter holidays two years in a row and this year would be no different.
John was trying hard to figure out what Rodney's plans would involve. But, based on their past trips back to Earth, there wasn't enough data to come to any concrete conclusion.
In 2009, after he'd flown Atlantis back to its rightful place in Pegasus, he and Rodney had finally gotten on the same page about ... well, actually ... okay, he wasn't too keen on ever saying it aloud, but he could think it, really ... he could. Feelings. All that stuff. Of course, Rodney had called him a moron (but that was nothing new) and had dragged him off to Vancouver to show him off stay with Jeannie and family. After Jeannie had gotten over the shock - and it was a good thing the pot she'd been holding had been empty when it had tumbled to the floor out of her lax fingers - she'd been delighted. John wished he could have told Dave at the same time, but had to accept that he couldn't risk it. Not yet anyway. In any case, he'd been charmed when Madison had asked if she could take Uncle Rodney and Uncle John to school for Show and Tell. Apparently, same-sex parents were all the rage in the neighbourhood. Now uncles, on the other hand, might be a rarer commodity. In any case, Jeannie explained to Madison that her uncles would have to go back to work before school started up again. Madison pouted for exactly one minute (John counted), then dragged him off to her room to play Terminator Barbie.
In 2010, John and Rodney were able to visit Dave and his family openly as a couple. It had taken the current Administration another year before they'd rid themselves of those stupid, brainless, idiotic (John was channelling Rodney for sure) and unjust regs. There had been fallout, mostly from young, uneducated men whose views were too bigoted to accept having to deal openly with gay personnel. But the benefits were worth it. Retaining the services of highly-educated, motivated men and women who knew that they could no longer be discharged for a personal reason that reflected their true identities had made a difference. Even former discharged personnel were coming back in droves. They could have held a grudge, but didn't. There were a few of them on Atlantis already.
Dave was stunned. He'd had his suspicions, especially when Ronon had accompanied his brother to their father's funeral; but, this time, John identified Rodney proudly as both his partner and the highest-ranking civilian where they worked. After a day of Rodney's unrestrained ranting, Dave finally overcame his upbringing and need to offer hospitality-at-all-costs, engaging Rodney in a battle of wits over finances. John had just sat back and enjoyed the fireworks.
So, they'd done Jeannie and Dave. Perhaps Rodney wanted to go somewhere just to relax. John hoped that would be the case. They weren't kids any more. When he nagged Rodney, he received no hints other than the need to have warm clothing. Lots of it. John was amazed to think that Rodney would willingly expose himself to cold weather but thought that their destination must be very special.
When they'd gated through to the Mountain, Rodney dragged John shopping for clothing they'd never needed in Pegasus. Toques, scarves, gloves, parkas and thermal underwear. Also proper boots because Rodney said they'd be going walking. After an hour of shopping, John had a glazed look in his eyes. So Rodney picked out a couple of suitcases to pack the clothes in before calling the airman who'd driven them to store them in the trunk. Then Rodney took John to lunch in order to revive him. A couple of steaks and baked potatoes apparently did the trick.
Two hours later they were at the airport where there was a shiny Lear jet waiting for them. When John stared at it, then at Rodney, then back at the plane, Rodney made shooing motions with his hands. "Yes, yes, you're flying us to our destination. Pay no attention to the nice man dressed in a pilot's uniform - he's just coming along to satisfy the regs, though he's already filed the flight plan and we're all set to go." The airman had wisely stayed out of the way and was busy getting their new luggage and other essentials loaded onto the sleek plane.
John's raised eyebrow threatened to take up permanent residence in his hairline. "Just where are we going, Rodney?"
"Oh, just Canada. Ontario, to be exact. Well, Huntsville, to be precise. And then we'll have a short drive to Dwight on Lake of Bays. That's in Muskoka, if you didn't know it."
"Gee, thanks, Rodney. I always wanted a Canadian geography lesson." Sarcasm could have taken a lesson from the tone of John's voice.
"Well, then, you won't be disappointed. Now get yourself into that pilot's seat. I don't want to waste another moment of our leave."
John figured this must be one of those relationship issues, where you had to give your lover leeway to drive you crazy. But they were on leave, actually a real vacation, away from inquisitive if mostly accepting family eyes.
When they were in the air and headed in approximately the right direction and John had ascertained the flying distance to be 2220 klicks, he joined Rodney who was sprawled out on the luxurious seats, inhaling hand-made chocolates and cradling a snifter of cognac. He remembered how Rodney had sniffed with disdain at the pedestrian, cliché-filled spread Tunney had offered the last time: really, champagne and strawberries. Who still did that?
Between bites and sips and decadently flavoured kisses, John finally had a captive Rodney at his mercy. He learnt that they would be touching down in less than four hours at a private airport in Huntsville that belonged to a popular resort. He was impressed that Rodney could bulldoze his way through private property. Although, for all he knew, there could be serious McKay money involved, so he didn't pry too much. He also had his suspicions that Rodney might have coerced Tunney to pick up the tab for this particular jaunt. Considering what the idiot had dared to do, John figured he still had a ways to go before the debt could be considered settled.
Before John got too cozy beside Rodney, he was being shooed away in the direction of the cockpit. “Go on, get out of here. I know you want to fly her some more. And, if I'm about to take a nap, I'd rather know that you're at the controls.”
John answered the small smile with a lazy one of his own, then sauntered off to follow Rodney's advice. It was true this was no fighter jet, but he'd had his fill of war and relished the idea of flying something simply for sheer enjoyment.
When he returned, the plane about an hour from Huntsville, he found Rodney sound asleep and just snuggled next to him, drifting off easily himself. The next thing he knew, the pilot had already landed the plane.
Then there was the flurry of luggage unloading, Rodney dismissing the pilot who was now carrying skis, climbing into the sturdy rental - since when did John get relegated to the passenger side - and watching Rodney's expression become more animated as they drove closer to their destination.
John rubbed his hands and wished he'd kept his gloves with him. But Rodney had reassured him that the drive shouldn't take more than 20 minutes. So, this was apparently the other side of Canada. It was freezing out, though the brilliant glare of the sun over snow and ice made a welcoming difference.
When John heard Rodney point out the sign that said Dwight, he eased himself out of his slouched position to scan the terrain. Rodney had turned onto a narrow road that sloped gently downhill. And then they were at the bottom of it with an entire lake spread out before them. Rodney make a confident “Humph” sound and turned left, allowing John to keep staring at the pristine beauty of the water bordered by massive tracts of snow-covered evergreen trees. For a minute, John lost sight of the water as the road curved away from the lake. Then there was a break in the trees on his right. Rodney drove through it, emerging into a clearing. There was a modest, two-car garage on the left, a wooden picnic table on the right but, filling his view was a huge stone single-storey structure in a squat U-shape, the opening revealing a wood-floored solarium. There were additional glass-covered portions at either end.
Rodney parked closest to the right one. As John unfolded himself from the car, he quickly grabbed his gloves before helping to unload their luggage. He followed Rodney up the tiny ramp through the now-unlocked door into the mudroom leading to what appeared to be a modern kitchen. Rodney flicked the lights on. “First thing, boots off. Then, go make coffee while I park.”
John heard the thump of Rodney's boots before he rejoined him a few minutes later. Steaming mugs in hand, he followed Rodney into the rest of the lodge. Next to the kitchen was a bathroom. Beyond that, a small bedroom. Then came the grand room: enormous stone fireplace filling the front wall, homey couches and armchairs, area rugs, as well as a dining set. But the focus was the wall of windows to his right, revealing a porch that ran the length of the building, with roughly hewn tables and chairs on its deck. Beyond that, a forest of trees bisected by a wide stone stepped path leading down to the lake, a vista of blue that mirrored the sky above.
He looked up at Rodney, stunned. “Do you own this place?”
Rodney seemed taken aback by the question, fleeting pain flaring in his eyes. “Yes, yes, it's mine. Long story. Coffee first, then I'll tell you everything.”
John nodded and carried the mugs over to the table in front of one of the suede couches. For once, Rodney took his time downing his drink. But John could be patient. He owed Rodney that much at least.
“This place belonged to my uncle Max. Maxwell McKay. He had a successful business in Toronto, but he'd always liked to tinker, invent little things. That was one of the things we had in common. I remember calling him Uncle Double-M. Everyone else thought it was disrespectful, especially my parents, but he loved it and always equated it with James Bond's gadgets. When Jeannie was born and my parents couldn't take having me underfoot, especially when school was out, Uncle Max offered to take me off their hands.” Rodney's voice was bitter, his age not having dulled that particular memory.
“Oh, not that they believed his willingness or why he actually wanted to have me around, but they took him up on it and made sure I was invited every summer afterwards. They thought they were so clever, but I couldn't wait for summer to come around. I know, I know, me and the great outdoors, not a great combination. But Uncle Max and I worked on an electronic insect repellent decades before anyone else did, so that I could stay out without risking being bitten by something that might cause anaphylactic shock. It was the same thing with sunscreen. In those days, idiots were using baby oil to increase the amount of skin damage. He and I would create our own formulae and test them out. On me.”
Rodney laughed, a fond expression on his face. “I remember one year, my arms and legs were four different shades, so I hid under long sleeves and jeans for a week. But I never resented him for that or anything else. We both loved our experiments. He never applied for patents. He said he wasn't interested, that he had enough money from the business. His two sons were already grown up. I could say stuck up as well. I didn't get along with them whenever they came up.”
Rodney looked up suddenly, naked yearning that stunned John. “Do you know he's the reason why I built the bomb for my Grade Six Science Fair? When I told him what I intended to do originally, he said I wasn't thinking big enough. He urged me to make something that would go off with a big bang. He was so proud of me, even after the whole being interrogated by the CIA thing. And, no, I didn't rat on him. The bomb was all my idea.”
When Rodney stilled and didn't speak for a few minutes, John touched his arm. “What happened to him?”
Rodney sighed, then began to talk in a dull voice. “He came down with Alzheimer's. Spent a few years in a private facility. My aunt was too frail to handle him. When he died, all hell broke loose. You see, he left this place to me in his will. The cousins were furious and tried to have the will declared invalid, citing his mental confusion. What the ass-holes didn't count on was that Uncle Max had kept every single letter I'd sent him, even after I went away to university. And I - I can't believe I'm admitting this - I'd kept all of his letters also.”
Rodney seemed so close to tears that John moved his hand up to Rodney's shoulder, pulling him in to lean against his body. He felt Rodney shiver before the words started up again. “He's the first person in my family I ever loved who loved me back. He never thought I was a pain in the ass or too curious or demanding or whatever the hell my parents complained about. I'd never asked him for anything, certainly not money. Besides, I had plenty of scholarships. But to have this, that he thought it would symbolize something to me, it meant the world to me. I still remember the contesting of the will. I didn't know it at the time, but Aunt Myra had hidden the letters and presented them to the judge. My cousins couldn't do a thing. The judge ruled that there had been a prior relationship in good standing for many years despite my uncle's later deterioration. It wasn't as if the cousins weren't getting anything from the will. The business was extremely profitable and they split the proceeds. Aunt Myra kept the house and investments. But this place, this was all mine.”
John's arm was still around Rodney's shoulders. He could feel how the intensity of Rodney's revelations had taxed his body. He also remember how Dave had initially thought he'd come to the funeral only to contest their father's will. “Hey, buddy, how about you show me our bedroom. I think we could both do with some down time.”
Rodney nodded, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. They walked to the other end of the great room. John noticed another two bedrooms, facing front and back, before they reached the large master bedroom. John could tell from the construction that this was a later addition. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls at both ends were a dead giveaway. He pushed Rodney in the direction of the king sized bed.
Rodney was nearly a dead weight, but John managed to pull his legs up before lying down next to him. It was warm, they were both dressed, so he didn't bother with the covers. But he made sure to curl himself around Rodney's body, offering support and protection. John would not allow himself to fall asleep until he was certain Rodney was safe.
When John opened his eyes again, Rodney was still sleeping. It was nearly sunset. He could understand why Rodney had insisted on such a hectic pace when they'd left early this morning. It was a spectacular sight, one that Rodney shouldn't miss out on. He nudged Rodney's arm and whispered. “Hey, Rodney. Sun's going down. You're missing all the good stuff.”
John felt Rodney twitching but saw that his eyes remained closed. Rodney did manage to mumble at him, “Already got the good stuff here in bed.”
At that moment, John felt his heart couldn't get any fuller. He'd received other, equally rare compliments from Rodney over the years but, somehow, this one seemed to be the most appreciative and honest one. It made him feel good, but it wasn't enough to dissuade him from getting Rodney out of bed. He dragged him over to the back window wall sitting area. Rodney slumped down on one of the chairs, a sleepy, goofy smile his only expression. After John had taken the other chair, he reached over to grab Rodney's hand. And so they sat in silence while the sun continued on its peaceful descent to the water's edge. He didn't expect Rodney to speak at that moment. “If we ever get back here during the summer, we can watch the sun go down here, then see it go down again after a 30 minute walk around the lake. Uncle Max and I used to do that every year.”
And then Rodney seemed to be back to normal, remembering bits and pieces of the summers he'd spent with his uncle. He talked about them going out in the canoe or rowboat way after midnight to watch the Perseids in August. He said he wasn't sure, but it could have been such a tiny detail that made him choose astrophysics as a speciality.
Though it had become dark once the sun had set, John noticed that the room was not. At the base of both window walls, there were dim lights providing illumination. Rodney saw him staring. “Solar-powered lanterns. When I added on to the lodge, I also winterized it and installed solar-collecting panels above the sun porch.” Now Rodney was eager to show off for John. “Come on, I'll show you the neat trick about the sun porch.”
John had to obey, Rodney's excitement infectious. Back in the great room, Rodney stopped in front of the tall bookcase to the left of the fireplace. John heard the definite snick of a latch being released before the bookcase swung open to reveal a solid hidden door that led out onto the sun porch. John was expecting it to be cold, as its ceiling and unprotected wall were glass, but it was surprisingly warm, even though he wasn't wearing shoes.
Rodney drew his gaze upwards. “Coated glass. It means I can spend a lot longer out here without using UV protection. And I developed a type of airflow system to keep it from becoming stuffy out here after I enclosed the space.” John noticed the two shallow boxes at the base of the window wall.
Then Rodney was pulling him back inside the house. “I'm starving. Dinner should be on the table.” John's senses bristled. How could he have allowed himself to let his guard down. While he'd slept, there had been at least one person who'd entered the house without his knowledge. As his fingers twitched to grab an imaginary gun from an equally imaginary thigh holster, Rodney tried to soothe him. “Whoa, Colonel. It's okay. I have a couple who live on the property year round. Ren and Fay dropped dinner off. Fay makes a mean beef stew.”
John twirled around and realized that Rodney had called it. The table was set and included woven place-mats and napkins, a crock-pot holding the likely stew, a couple of baguettes, a bottle of red wine and two glasses. The fireplace was also lit. To John's surprise, it wasn't burning wood, but merely an electric appliance. Rodney noticed his surprise. “Oh, that. When I renovated, I filled in the chimney and installed this instead. Do you have any idea how inefficient real fireplaces are? Most of the heat goes up the chimney. And we certainly don't need any more pollution. I still remember chilly summer mornings - because there was no central heating - and I hated to crawl out from under the covers, even for coffee. There was also a pot-bellied stove in the old, tiny kitchen. And there was basic electricity. I rewired the entire place. There's also a dish behind a false front on top of the garage.”
Relaxed and reassured, John busied himself, serving them some of the hearty stew, pulling off chunks from the baguettes and pouring them both a glass of wine. There was no conversation as they ate the first bowl. Even Rodney seemed to be eating at a more normal pace. Perhaps this was exactly what Rodney needed from time to time, John thought, to be away from a lab, from never-ending experiments, or from life-threatening danger.
After John had dished out a smaller second helping, he asked, “So, where's this other house? And just what kind of a name is Ren?”
“There's a two-room cottage plus bathroom to the right of the stone path. When I first came up here, it used to be a one-room shack with a porch on stilts over the water. Uncle Max used it for overflow guests. And they had to use the outhouse. There's a much narrower diagonal path that leads down to it from the back porch. I had the cottage built before I made all the structural changes to the main building. Ren and Fay hired the contractors and made sure there was nothing being done illegally. I didn't want to have to threaten the construction guys with Mike Holmes.”
John's puzzled expression made Rodney pause. “Oh, he's like a bulldog version of Ronon against shoddy Canadian reno practices. Okay, where was I? Oh, right. Ren is short for Darren. His mother obviously watched too much Bewitched before he was born. He couldn't stand it, but it was harder to change names back then, so he insisted everyone call him Ren instead.”
When Rodney had fallen silent, apparently lost in thought again, John began to clear away the table. Rodney called after him, “Just rinse them and stack them in the dishwasher. Fay will do a load after breakfast.”
When John had returned, Rodney was sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, nursing his glass of wine. John poured himself a second glass and joined him. They sat for a while, simply staring at the attractive flickers of flame. Even fake, it still was satisfying. Rodney was mellow, to the extent that his eyelids were drooping and he was about to drop his empty glass. John grabbed it, placing both glasses on the hearthstone, then hoisted Rodney out of his soft cocoon.
As they neared the passageway to their bedroom, Rodney waved in the direction of a light switch panel. “Flick them all off and switch the red one on. It's a motion sensor detector. If it detects anything larger than a deer, it'll light up.” After a few steps, Rodney stopped. He pointed at the sliding doors that John had thought were closets. “Can's on the right. Tub and shower on the left. 'M too tired for a bath tonight, but tomorrow we can have one together. It's a whirlpool.” After they'd both availed themselves of the facilities, Rodney pointed to the brand new toothbrushes on the ledge of the washbasin. It felt odd but comforting, seeing himself and Rodney in the mirror, brushing their teeth together. Then John stopped analyzing and followed Rodney to bed. They stripped down to their boxers. Rodney stripped off his socks and insisted John do so as well. “You'll thank me in the morning. I've fiddled around with the thermostats. No more frigid air when we wake up.”
Before John's mind slid off-line, he needed clarification on one point. “Rodney, I'm not keen for strangers to be barging into the place - even if you're familiar with them. What if we're ... uh, you know?”
Rodney snorted. “The kitchen's Fay's territory. As long as we're not screwing like bunnies in there, we should be okay. Otherwise, she'll call out toward the great room before she enters with our meals. So, dress code for the great room is at least a robe, though you'll probably feel more relaxed wearing sweats with it. Ren doesn't usually come in. He'll busy himself in the garage, fixing things. And, if there's an emergency on either side, we have an intercom system connecting us to the cottage.” He pointed to the red button on the special phone. “Before you ask, all of the doors lock automatically.”
John allowed the tension to bleed away. Maybe things would be different here. After all, this was Canada, though that was small comfort as he remembered Jeannie's kidnapping. Still, everyone they'd encountered, even just driving down the road to the lake, had seemed to be pleasant enough. Besides, Rodney felt safe here. As, obviously, did Ren and Fay. He looked forward to meeting them tomorrow, as a polite gesture but also to make his own threat assessment.
John couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so peacefully. Being conked out in the Infirmary and on the good drugs didn't count. There was just something about this place, or it could have been Rodney's presence that soothed him.
In the morning, he woke to the smell of baking bread. He nudged Rodney who merely muttered about coffee. And that it was too early. John laughed as he dragged Rodney out of bed and propelled him in the direction of the room with the bath. In minutes, a red-faced Rodney was sputtering, having been splashed in the face by John. Which of course required retaliation. And, then, they just soaked any lingering worries out of their bones. When they were sufficiently pruney, this time Rodney was the one to hustle John out of the tub. “Food. Coffee. Now.”
Back in the bedroom, Rodney pointed to the suitcase in the corner that John hadn't noticed before. There was a change of clothing for each of them: socks, underwear, trousers, turtleneck sweaters. When they were both dressed, they returned to the great room. Once again, Fay had done her magic disappearing trick, but had left the results of her culinary skills on a warming tray on the table. There was the loaf of bread he'd smelled earlier, a pot of whipped butter, jam, bacon and poached eggs. A carafe of apple juice and a pot of coffee. They dug in eagerly until even Rodney couldn't take another bite. But that didn't stop him from waving the crisp strip of bacon in John's face. “Okay, buddy. I think you've had enough. We should take that walk now, since you made us pack for the weather. Why don't you show me everything that's special.”
Rodney gave him a grateful look. They quickly found their boots, gloves and parkas in a warm alcove off the mudroom. When they'd walked out, the stillness nearly overwhelmed John. It was as if he could hear every single snowflake landing gently on the ground. The crackle of the snow packed hard underneath their feet was calming, informing him that he hadn't lost his hearing. The sun seemed to be weaker today and he shivered, grabbing Rodney's hand and earning himself a questioning eyebrow. He shook his head, a brief gesture, but it quelled Rodney's curiosity. At least momentarily.
They strode down yet another tree-lined path that Rodney hadn't mentioned to him. This one ran parallel to the lodge from the kitchen presumably to the road. But, for once, John didn't need to know where he was going. This place ... with Rodney ... it felt like home to him. And, even though any religious beliefs had been replaced with cynical pragmatism through decades of living in war zones, surrounded by death and torture, he could only offer up a brief blessing of thanks to Rodney's uncle Max who had believed in him so much that he'd left him this haven. That he'd been genuinely a good and kind man to his nephew. And, as long as he was being frivolous, he thanked whatever powers-that-be for having kept him alive long enough to have met Rodney and to love him.
John broke the silence only once. “Rodney, I love this place.”
Rodney squeezed John's hand as they continued to walk. He understood exactly what John had just admitted.
And the snowflakes continued to fall.