Chase the Sun, chapter 1
Chase the Sun
Burningchaos
Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1 Crossover
Past Sheppard/McKay, McKay/Mitchell
Mature
Warnings: Character death, severe description of depression.
Disclaimer: Neither Stargate nor Stargate Atlantis belong to me. Sadly, I am making no money.
You can find the prologue here.
Banner by from_the_corner
I need to thank seekergeek for being my beta.
Chapter 1
Vacations sucked, especially ones where you were the third wheel cover to make it look like a fishing party guy. Cameron was that guy, he had been for the last three days and would be for the next week and a half. He was so damn lucky. It was a good thing he liked Daniel and Jack, because he would have shot them after the first day if he hadn’t. He had to admit they needed the time together, and with Jack in Washington that time was hard to come by. In the end, and despite being terminally bored, it was worth it. Thankfully, Jack was retiring this fall, which meant no more fake ‘fishing trips’.
Cameron walked around the pathetic cluster of buildings being called a town and wanted to cry. Every year it was a different town and this year’s choice was particularly sad. Cameron had been through all the ‘shops’ by ten am, and damn if the people didn’t think he was there to steal from them. Every one of them watched him like a hawk, studying his every move. He was ready to go home. More than ready.
Cameron kicked at a few stray rocks as he walked. His mind desperately searched for something, anything to do. Swim? He did that yesterday and had received dirty looks from every old coot from here to well, the end of the lake. He had already finished the two books he had brought. Damn, he knew he should have packed better.
Cameron shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a large rock. He watched the small puff of dirt following in its wake as it bounced on to the grass and landed on someone’s foot. Cameron looked up slowly. He hadn’t seen the man until just now, which surprised him. He was usually more aware of his surroundings.
The man looked at him, his blue eyes haunted and shadowed. Cameron shivered under the intensity of his gaze. It almost seemed as if the other man was staring directly into his soul. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”
The man just looked at him a moment longer before moving. Cameron saw how his clothes hung on him, as if he had lost a lot of weight. At a closer glance, he saw several small, not quite pale scars on his face and arms. Cameron knew he had scars, he was fortunate enough to have them places his clothes covered. The other man’s scars were highly visible and if you looked, you could see more peeking out beneath his shirtsleeves. “Don’t worry about it.” He spoke as if he didn’t talk often, his voice gruff and scratchy. Cameron looked at the man a moment longer. He had seen battle trauma, he had seen depression, but this guy was totally expressionless.
Cameron put on his best smile and held out his hand, “Cameron Mitchell.” He didn’t know why he hadn’t used his rank. He waited as the man studied him carefully, looking him over more than once before stepping closer and hesitantly taking his hand.
“McKay, the name’s, McKay” He cleared his throat after he spoke, supporting Cameron’s theory. He waited patiently, but that seemed to be it, no first name, no chatter, just stony unnerving silence.
“You heading in to town, well, if you call that a town?” Cameron jerked his head in toward the scattered buildings not far from them. Something about McKay tugged at him. McKay’s name seemed familiar. The reason why eluded him, skirting the edges of his mind. A mystery would keep him occupied, and McKay certainly fell into that category.
McKay looked at him, his head tilted, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“Mind if I walk with you?” Cameron had been walking back toward the cabin. His stomach was telling him it was lunchtime and he always listened. He could have lunch in town just as easy. McKay looked toward the town, then back toward the path he had obviously come from. Cameron had the feeling the man was ready to bolt. McKay took a deep breath, his chest, and shoulders moving as he sighed.
“Sure.” Then started walking. He didn’t look up and he didn’t speak again. The silence was stretching out uncomfortably and Cameron began to wonder if any mystery was worth this. He wasn’t a quitter though, which meant he was going to stick it out, no matter how uncomfortable he was.
Cameron watched McKay, still no first name, walk away. He had managed to lure him into having lunch. He had even paid. Still nothing. He couldn’t get a handle on the guy. The man hadn’t said a single word after ordering his meal and saying thank you.
But what had puzzled Cameron the most, the thing that had him really stumped was the old codger, Jacob, he was currently talking with.
Jacob leaned back in his chair; the one vacated by McKay mere moments before, and chew on his toothpick. “Well, ya surprise me young man.” Cameron watched the man. His was voice wavering in time with his swaying head. “That there McKay feller never says two words when he comes to town.”
Cameron eyed the man warily. “Excuse me?”
“That McKay feller, always silent as the grave. Never talks. He comes to town, hands Midge a list, gathers his groceries and the like. Then leaves. Never muttering a single word.”
Finally, interested Cameron leaned back. “So, Jacob, would you like a beer?” He waved the ‘waitress’ over and ordered.
“Heh, you tryin' to wet my whistle for more information. Sly whippersnapper aren’t ya?”
Cameron leaned on the table grinning. “Is it working?”
Jacob gave Cameron a semi-toothless grin as he slapped his wrinkled hand on the table. “Damn right it is.”
Several hours later Cameron stared at his porch. Their cabin wasn’t much to look at. There wasn’t any television, which meant no cable. There was a radio that played only country, which wasn’t really a bad thing, but hey a little variety would be nice. The beds were more comfortable than they looked. Not that that said much.
The view though, that was the clicker. The lake the cabin sat on was a pristine, illusion of peace. By the third trip Cameron had figured out why Jack love to fish. Lakes like this were made for thinking. You could sit out there for hours with the soft plop of the water and the chattering of birds your only company. Cameron had quickly discovered he hated fishing. He did like sitting on the lake and tossing rocks; he’d beat his old skipping record and was now up to twenty-two with one rock. He liked how this place made him feel. A place like this was enough to make the world feel like it was all right. It made the world normal and it almost made his life feel normal. Which Cameron was short on because most days he couldn’t remember what qualified for normal.
Today had been far from normal. Not the in the ‘hey these guys are trying to kill me' way but still not normal. McKay was bothering him. He couldn’t understand why the guy’s behavior had affected him so much.
But there it was, pulling at him, making him want to go back and figure out why the man seemed so…broken. His mother would have patted him on the head with a quiet comment about him loving strays. And he did. He loved making people smile, making them laugh. He loved meeting new people but working at the SGC didn’t leave much time for friendships outside of his teammates. But McKay was more than a stray now, he was a full blown mystery.
Cameron sat on the steps and ran over what the old man had said. McKay had been here three years and didn’t have a phone or a television. He didn’t have any friends and he never spoke unless he had too. Although it seemed he talked to the town doctor, who apparently didn’t know the meaning of confidentiality.
He hated that he still couldn’t place where he had heard McKay’s name before. He knew it was recent too. Sighing, Cameron stood up and kicked the porch. “Guys, you had better be decent because I am coming in and seeing Daniel naked at work is one thing…but this…no thank you.” Cameron heard a shout of laughter and decided it was safe. He’d ask Daniel and Jack. Maybe they knew who McKay was.
While Cameron was desperately trying to remember, Rodney was trying to forget. He couldn’t, though. He never would, either. Stargate Command, Atlantis, they were a lifetime away. His and John’s. His life ended there the second John died and now he was a completely different man. It had only been three years. Rodney felt his eyes burn.
It was too long and at the same time not long enough.
Rodney’s mouth was dry and filled with the bitter aftertaste of the sandwich he’d eaten. He couldn’t explain why he had talked to Mitchell. At first he hadn’t recognized him, but that had changed the second Mitchell introduced himself. They hadn’t met more than twice, so it wasn’t surprising. Besides, with the scars, the weight loss and his beard, he wasn’t even sure his mother would know him not to mention all his former friends.
Rodney pushed the market door open and the mindless chatter filling the room trailed off abruptly. His chest tightened instantly, but it was always like that especially when he entered a crowded room. Rodney took a calming breath and closed his eyes. He needed to focus. To breathe. It was a familiar ritual. One he needed to finish before going home and falling apart. He could do this; he had too. Rodney repeated this mantra until he almost believed it and stepped forward.
Midge was smiling at him again, like always. She seemed nice. When he first moved here she had shown up on his doorstep with a pie and a smile. He hadn’t been able to open the door but the memory of her attempted kindness was something he wouldn’t forget. Rodney ducked his head and handed her his shopping list. She glanced over it, her lips moving as she read. Soon her booming voice barked out orders to her grandson, Eric. Eric wasn't that young, in fact, Rodney thought he had to be in his early twenties, but he was here every summer helping his grandmother out. Before long, Eric had his items piled on the counter, rung up and bagged. No one expected him to talk anymore.
Midge and the others seemed to understand his need for silence. This suited him because talking lead to friendships and an exchange of history. The mere thought of that made his chest tighten. It hadn’t stopped the town from welcoming him. Some of them still went out of their way to be nice to him, leaving fresh fish on his porch in a bucket or fresh bread in a basket. Midge still brought up pies and cakes. The nods and friendly wave he received as he walked.
“Here ya go.” Rodney looked up sharply. Midge was handing him his change. He didn’t even
remember handing her the money. Tersely nodding his thanks, Rodney quickly walked out the door. Rodney clutched his bags tightly to his chest. At time like this, he was glad he had started walking around the lake late at night for exercise. Oddly enough, physically he was in the best shape he’d ever been. This helped because he needed to get home and he needed his medicine.
With each step, his chest tightened. All too soon, he was fighting for every breath. Sweating and trembling, Rodney turned down the path to his cabin. He couldn’t help but appreciate the irony of what was happening. In Atlantis, he constantly ranted about having panic attacks. When in reality, he’d never had one but now he had them almost everyday. Ativan, Klonopin and occasionally Valium were his best friends at times like these.
His porch groaned with age and disrepair as he stepped on it. Ignoring the fact that at one time that alone would have set off a rant about his safety, he quickly opened his door. His head pounding and fear smothering him, Rodney closed it behind him and fell to the floor. The relief flooded through him in swift sickening waves. It was amazing how the simple act of closing the door and shutting the world out abated most of his symptoms. God, he hated his life.
Burningchaos
Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1 Crossover
Past Sheppard/McKay, McKay/Mitchell
Mature
Warnings: Character death, severe description of depression.
Disclaimer: Neither Stargate nor Stargate Atlantis belong to me. Sadly, I am making no money.
You can find the prologue here.
Banner by from_the_corner
I need to thank seekergeek for being my beta.
Chapter 1
Vacations sucked, especially ones where you were the third wheel cover to make it look like a fishing party guy. Cameron was that guy, he had been for the last three days and would be for the next week and a half. He was so damn lucky. It was a good thing he liked Daniel and Jack, because he would have shot them after the first day if he hadn’t. He had to admit they needed the time together, and with Jack in Washington that time was hard to come by. In the end, and despite being terminally bored, it was worth it. Thankfully, Jack was retiring this fall, which meant no more fake ‘fishing trips’.
Cameron walked around the pathetic cluster of buildings being called a town and wanted to cry. Every year it was a different town and this year’s choice was particularly sad. Cameron had been through all the ‘shops’ by ten am, and damn if the people didn’t think he was there to steal from them. Every one of them watched him like a hawk, studying his every move. He was ready to go home. More than ready.
Cameron kicked at a few stray rocks as he walked. His mind desperately searched for something, anything to do. Swim? He did that yesterday and had received dirty looks from every old coot from here to well, the end of the lake. He had already finished the two books he had brought. Damn, he knew he should have packed better.
Cameron shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a large rock. He watched the small puff of dirt following in its wake as it bounced on to the grass and landed on someone’s foot. Cameron looked up slowly. He hadn’t seen the man until just now, which surprised him. He was usually more aware of his surroundings.
The man looked at him, his blue eyes haunted and shadowed. Cameron shivered under the intensity of his gaze. It almost seemed as if the other man was staring directly into his soul. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”
The man just looked at him a moment longer before moving. Cameron saw how his clothes hung on him, as if he had lost a lot of weight. At a closer glance, he saw several small, not quite pale scars on his face and arms. Cameron knew he had scars, he was fortunate enough to have them places his clothes covered. The other man’s scars were highly visible and if you looked, you could see more peeking out beneath his shirtsleeves. “Don’t worry about it.” He spoke as if he didn’t talk often, his voice gruff and scratchy. Cameron looked at the man a moment longer. He had seen battle trauma, he had seen depression, but this guy was totally expressionless.
Cameron put on his best smile and held out his hand, “Cameron Mitchell.” He didn’t know why he hadn’t used his rank. He waited as the man studied him carefully, looking him over more than once before stepping closer and hesitantly taking his hand.
“McKay, the name’s, McKay” He cleared his throat after he spoke, supporting Cameron’s theory. He waited patiently, but that seemed to be it, no first name, no chatter, just stony unnerving silence.
“You heading in to town, well, if you call that a town?” Cameron jerked his head in toward the scattered buildings not far from them. Something about McKay tugged at him. McKay’s name seemed familiar. The reason why eluded him, skirting the edges of his mind. A mystery would keep him occupied, and McKay certainly fell into that category.
McKay looked at him, his head tilted, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“Mind if I walk with you?” Cameron had been walking back toward the cabin. His stomach was telling him it was lunchtime and he always listened. He could have lunch in town just as easy. McKay looked toward the town, then back toward the path he had obviously come from. Cameron had the feeling the man was ready to bolt. McKay took a deep breath, his chest, and shoulders moving as he sighed.
“Sure.” Then started walking. He didn’t look up and he didn’t speak again. The silence was stretching out uncomfortably and Cameron began to wonder if any mystery was worth this. He wasn’t a quitter though, which meant he was going to stick it out, no matter how uncomfortable he was.
Cameron watched McKay, still no first name, walk away. He had managed to lure him into having lunch. He had even paid. Still nothing. He couldn’t get a handle on the guy. The man hadn’t said a single word after ordering his meal and saying thank you.
But what had puzzled Cameron the most, the thing that had him really stumped was the old codger, Jacob, he was currently talking with.
Jacob leaned back in his chair; the one vacated by McKay mere moments before, and chew on his toothpick. “Well, ya surprise me young man.” Cameron watched the man. His was voice wavering in time with his swaying head. “That there McKay feller never says two words when he comes to town.”
Cameron eyed the man warily. “Excuse me?”
“That McKay feller, always silent as the grave. Never talks. He comes to town, hands Midge a list, gathers his groceries and the like. Then leaves. Never muttering a single word.”
Finally, interested Cameron leaned back. “So, Jacob, would you like a beer?” He waved the ‘waitress’ over and ordered.
“Heh, you tryin' to wet my whistle for more information. Sly whippersnapper aren’t ya?”
Cameron leaned on the table grinning. “Is it working?”
Jacob gave Cameron a semi-toothless grin as he slapped his wrinkled hand on the table. “Damn right it is.”
Several hours later Cameron stared at his porch. Their cabin wasn’t much to look at. There wasn’t any television, which meant no cable. There was a radio that played only country, which wasn’t really a bad thing, but hey a little variety would be nice. The beds were more comfortable than they looked. Not that that said much.
The view though, that was the clicker. The lake the cabin sat on was a pristine, illusion of peace. By the third trip Cameron had figured out why Jack love to fish. Lakes like this were made for thinking. You could sit out there for hours with the soft plop of the water and the chattering of birds your only company. Cameron had quickly discovered he hated fishing. He did like sitting on the lake and tossing rocks; he’d beat his old skipping record and was now up to twenty-two with one rock. He liked how this place made him feel. A place like this was enough to make the world feel like it was all right. It made the world normal and it almost made his life feel normal. Which Cameron was short on because most days he couldn’t remember what qualified for normal.
Today had been far from normal. Not the in the ‘hey these guys are trying to kill me' way but still not normal. McKay was bothering him. He couldn’t understand why the guy’s behavior had affected him so much.
But there it was, pulling at him, making him want to go back and figure out why the man seemed so…broken. His mother would have patted him on the head with a quiet comment about him loving strays. And he did. He loved making people smile, making them laugh. He loved meeting new people but working at the SGC didn’t leave much time for friendships outside of his teammates. But McKay was more than a stray now, he was a full blown mystery.
Cameron sat on the steps and ran over what the old man had said. McKay had been here three years and didn’t have a phone or a television. He didn’t have any friends and he never spoke unless he had too. Although it seemed he talked to the town doctor, who apparently didn’t know the meaning of confidentiality.
He hated that he still couldn’t place where he had heard McKay’s name before. He knew it was recent too. Sighing, Cameron stood up and kicked the porch. “Guys, you had better be decent because I am coming in and seeing Daniel naked at work is one thing…but this…no thank you.” Cameron heard a shout of laughter and decided it was safe. He’d ask Daniel and Jack. Maybe they knew who McKay was.
While Cameron was desperately trying to remember, Rodney was trying to forget. He couldn’t, though. He never would, either. Stargate Command, Atlantis, they were a lifetime away. His and John’s. His life ended there the second John died and now he was a completely different man. It had only been three years. Rodney felt his eyes burn.
It was too long and at the same time not long enough.
Rodney’s mouth was dry and filled with the bitter aftertaste of the sandwich he’d eaten. He couldn’t explain why he had talked to Mitchell. At first he hadn’t recognized him, but that had changed the second Mitchell introduced himself. They hadn’t met more than twice, so it wasn’t surprising. Besides, with the scars, the weight loss and his beard, he wasn’t even sure his mother would know him not to mention all his former friends.
Rodney pushed the market door open and the mindless chatter filling the room trailed off abruptly. His chest tightened instantly, but it was always like that especially when he entered a crowded room. Rodney took a calming breath and closed his eyes. He needed to focus. To breathe. It was a familiar ritual. One he needed to finish before going home and falling apart. He could do this; he had too. Rodney repeated this mantra until he almost believed it and stepped forward.
Midge was smiling at him again, like always. She seemed nice. When he first moved here she had shown up on his doorstep with a pie and a smile. He hadn’t been able to open the door but the memory of her attempted kindness was something he wouldn’t forget. Rodney ducked his head and handed her his shopping list. She glanced over it, her lips moving as she read. Soon her booming voice barked out orders to her grandson, Eric. Eric wasn't that young, in fact, Rodney thought he had to be in his early twenties, but he was here every summer helping his grandmother out. Before long, Eric had his items piled on the counter, rung up and bagged. No one expected him to talk anymore.
Midge and the others seemed to understand his need for silence. This suited him because talking lead to friendships and an exchange of history. The mere thought of that made his chest tighten. It hadn’t stopped the town from welcoming him. Some of them still went out of their way to be nice to him, leaving fresh fish on his porch in a bucket or fresh bread in a basket. Midge still brought up pies and cakes. The nods and friendly wave he received as he walked.
“Here ya go.” Rodney looked up sharply. Midge was handing him his change. He didn’t even
remember handing her the money. Tersely nodding his thanks, Rodney quickly walked out the door. Rodney clutched his bags tightly to his chest. At time like this, he was glad he had started walking around the lake late at night for exercise. Oddly enough, physically he was in the best shape he’d ever been. This helped because he needed to get home and he needed his medicine.
With each step, his chest tightened. All too soon, he was fighting for every breath. Sweating and trembling, Rodney turned down the path to his cabin. He couldn’t help but appreciate the irony of what was happening. In Atlantis, he constantly ranted about having panic attacks. When in reality, he’d never had one but now he had them almost everyday. Ativan, Klonopin and occasionally Valium were his best friends at times like these.
His porch groaned with age and disrepair as he stepped on it. Ignoring the fact that at one time that alone would have set off a rant about his safety, he quickly opened his door. His head pounding and fear smothering him, Rodney closed it behind him and fell to the floor. The relief flooded through him in swift sickening waves. It was amazing how the simple act of closing the door and shutting the world out abated most of his symptoms. God, he hated his life.