"Parallels"; G; for curia_regis
Mod's Note: This isn't with the other entries because of "Me Error." SORRY!
Title: Parallels
Author: Santa Claus
Recipient: curia_regis
Rating: G
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Season 2, right after The Siege, Part 3 (when the wounded are shipped back to Earth).
Summary: Returning to Earth, Rodney McKay has to face some uncomfortable facts… among them some concerning Kavanagh.
Author’s note:
I know that since “Midway” Kavanagh’s first name is supposed to be Peter. I don’t care. If the PTB couldn’t be bothered to give him a first name for three years and a half, they shouldn’t complain that I’ve long settled for a different one. I’ve written Kavanagh as Calvin for all those years, I’ve created his entire background inspired by that name - I’m not going to change it. Besides, for me “Peter” is and will always be Grodin in the Atlantis universe.
As for Balinsky - I realized that his first name should be Cameron when I’d already written him as “Lou” for quite some time. So I decided to stick with that - you can consider it as a nickname, if the change bothers you. Many people don’t like their real names and don’t use it.
Part One
The return to Earth is a strangely alienating experience for Rodney McKay; something he hasn’t really expected when he left for Atlantis in the first place. He’s not sure he likes the change. Sure, people at the SGC treat him with a great deal more respect than they used to. Even Sam Carter seems impressed when discussing the events and discoveries of the Pegasus Galaxy with him. But the easy camaraderie shared by the SGC members still excludes him. He’s still not one of them. And when the debriefings and conferences and meetings are over, at the end of a long, exhausting day, he still returns to an empty, almost sterile apartment, barely worth calling living quarters, since he doesn’t actually live there. He just sleeps there sometimes.
And Miss Kitty is the only one who’s delighted by his return. Most of the time, anyway. When she’s not sulking for having been left to the care of strangers for so long. It’s amazing how good cats are at keeping grudges.
The nights are the worst. He never slept much; there has always been too much work to do, and his overactive mind wouldn’t allow him to rest longer anyway. But after the industrial amount of military-strength amphetamines he consumed in the weeks before and during the siege of Atlantis seem to have disturbed his sleeping patterns… such as they’ve ever been. Patterns have never played much of a role in his hectic life. Now he can’t sleep any longer than an hour or two at one go, and he often wakes up from a nightmare, trembling uncontrollably and covered with cold sweat.
One would think that his nightmares would feature the Wraith, predominantly. Those guys are made to induce nightmares. They are nightmare personified. But no, they barely ever haunt his sleep. Neither do the Genii, which, too, is surprising, considering what he’s personally suffered at Kolya’s hands. Or any of the dozen or so aliens or technical disasters or natural phenomena that have tried to kill them all in new and highly creative ways.
No, his prominent nightmare features the terrible bloom of fire, soundless in the black vacuum of place: the inevitable destruction of the defence satellite after the haphazardly rerouted circuitry has burned out irreparably, the only sound Peter Grodin’s soft “I’m sorry” coming through his headset.
Grodin’s apology echoes through his nightmares every single night. Three, four times a night, actually. As if losing the man hadn’t been bad enough. What did Peter apologize for? It was him, Rodney, who left the man behind to die - the fact that he didn’t have any other choice doesn’t make the fact any easier to bear.
Being helpless and watching others die because you are helpless is never easy. Especially when you liked the person in question. And Rodney did like Grodin. The man was almost as intelligent as Radek - not that Rodney would ever publicly acknowledge Zelenka’s intelligence, but the scruffy little Czech is a genius in his own way. Not a genius of Rodney’s own magnitude, of course, but still magnitudes better than anyone else Rodney has ever worked with… and Grodin was almost as good.
Plus, Peter Grodin was one of those rare persons who liked Rodney. Not that it means much, granted, as Grodin seemed to like just about everyone - hell, he even spent time with Kavanagh voluntarily, after they’d returned from that near-disastrous mission from that secret Genii outpost - but it was still nice to have the company of an almost-equal mind. And a pleasant company it was, with Grodin being competent and easy-going and funny… the closest thing Rodney has ever had to a friend, with the exception of Zelenka.
Here, on Earth, Rodney has nobody like that. Zelenka is back in Atlantis, shouldering the responsibilities Rodney is meant to shoulder under normal circumstances, and Grodin’s workload, too. All the remaining scientists have to step in for those killed during the siege or shipped off aboard the Daedalus because of their injuries.
So many have died. Even before the siege: due to the nanovirus that wiped out five people within hours, at the hands of the Genii, at the hands of the Wraith. Sure, now that contact has been re-established, replacements will be sent to Atlantis - but that won’t be the same. No one who hasn’t been there from the beginning will ever understand the bond formed between the members of the original expedition… or compensate the losses of so many from the first hour.
So many have died. And so many others are now lying in the Air Force Academy Hospital in Colorado Springs, receiving treatment, while the others, back in Atlantis, are working themselves into an early grave to work in their stead, too.
And Rodney McKay, healthy (aside from chronic insomnia) and more capable than all the others counted together, is forced to waste his time in committees that don’t have the faintest idea what it was like, back in Pegasus. It’s not their fault; in his rare honest moments, Rodney realizes that, but that realization doesn’t make him more forgiving towards military and government bureaucrats.
They are supposed to spend six weeks on Earth; to catch up with their former lives, to get reconnected with friends and family - if they can find the time to do so, despite the endless and totally harebrained meetings, that is. Carson Beckett has already thrown a temper tantrum (as mild-mannered as he is, he can get really cranky when his time is wasted, especially if it’s time he could spend with his elderly mother whom he hasn’t seen for a year), and Sheppard, too, is showing first signs of rebellious behaviour. It’s understandable. They haven’t expected to return to Earth, not really - but now that they’re actually here, they could think of better ways to spend their time.
But Rodney has no former life to catch up with… aside from Miss Kitty, that is. No old friends to meet. No family to visit.
Sure, he has recorded that message for Jeannie, but as regular contact is now re-established with Earth, those messages were never actually sent. Rodney is grateful for that fact. It would be… awkward. Yes, yes, he has admitted the importance of family in that aborted message, but it doesn’t mean he’d actually want to meet Jeannie. Or that moronic husband of hers who dragged her down from the perspective heights of abstract science to domestic mediocrity.
And while Rodney is still angry with Caleb Miller (of course he knows the man’s name, he’d just never admit it, because his seeming indifference pisses off Jeannie more than anything else) for reducing his brilliant sister to a common housewife, he suddenly realizes that anger has lost any personal affect. He’s still pissed that someone of Jeannie’s potential is lost for science, but he no longer misses his sister. He no longer feels betrayed on a personal level by Jeannie’s decision.
Because, as he suddenly realizes, Earth is no longer home. It has never been a good one for him, never one he truly felt bound to, but for the greater part of his life it was the only one. Now he knows better. Now the focus of his life lies elsewhere. In a different galaxy populated by vampiric aliens that can suck the life out of him through their palm; in a ten thousand-year-old, semi-sentient city that is actually a spaceship, where his presence is needed in a way it was never needed on Earth.
And with that revelation comes the knowledge what he needs to do to survive those six weeks on Earth. He needs to reconnect… not with his former life, but with the current one. And connection to that new life now can only be found in one place: at the hospital where the wounded Atlantis people are lying.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Two
The wounded from Atlantis have been sent to the Air Force Academy Hospital for two reasons: they needed the best care the Stargate program could offer, and that was the hospital where the brass didn’t have to worry about sensitive information leaking out via medical personnel. USAF officers - even medical officers - know all too well the meaning of confidential information.
On the other hand, they are also well enough informed to know whom they can let in to the patients. Family are one such group; team members from Atlantis are the other one. Beyond that, the patients are fairly isolated, and even with family visiting, there’s always some medical personnel present. Some people tend to speak in their sleep, or when under drugs. The SGC doesn’t want to take any risks.
Compared with others, Rodney has it easy to get in. His ongoing insomnia does give him a - however transparent - excuse to visit the hospital, and even though Dr. Brightman, the almost worthy successor of the unforgettable Dr. Frasier, saw through it, she was understanding enough to let him into the secure wing to visit his comrades.
The strong, familiar scent of medicines and disinfectants bites his nose as soon as he enters, but he forces himself to visit every single one shipped back from Atlantis, even the worst, most hopeless cases. Like that poor Bates, who’s still in a coma, hanging on dozens of drips and monitors and other medical instruments, a very young man with a faint resemblance to him at his bedside, watching him from wide, frightened eyes. Rodney knows from Ford that Bates has a kid brother, and it isn’t hard to guess who the young man in his room might be. Rodney recognizes the pretty, dark-skinned girl with them as Ford’s cousin, the same one Sheppard has sought out a short time ago.
Ford isn’t here, of course. He’s out there, somewhere in the Pegasus, pumped full with Wraith enzyme, lost, lonely, insane, and dangerous. One day, the soldiers of Atlantis may have no other choice than hunt him down, just as Colonel Caldwell has already demanded. But the girl doesn’t know that, and she never will. All she knows is that Ford is MIA, and that the only one she knows of those who have returned is Bates. She probably came to connect somehow through the man who once was Ford’s mentor in things of field missions and taught him all the dirty tricks of fighting and survival, and who’s now just an unresponsive body, hanging on life support. Still, as long as she doesn’t know, she can at least hope. Rodney wishes he could, too, but he’s seen enough to know that the Pegasus isn’t really big at giving back those it has already taken.
In the next room, there’s quite a crowd - that is, if one considers a four-man SG-unit a crowd. Three Air Force soldiers and a civilian with shockingly bright red hair are sitting around a bed in which, hanging on almost as many drops and control monitors as Bates, a lanky, long-haired man is lying. His face is pale with pain and the effort to be at least semi-coherent, but even without the glasses, his features are unmistakable.
It is Kavanagh.
Rodney spent the days of the siege of Atlantis in a state of waking nightmare. Overdosed on those damned amphetamines, he worked with Zelenka on saving the city in a near-hallucinate haze. Few things could get through that state of mind. So no, he didn’t know that Kavanagh, too, had been injured. Hell, he didn’t even know the man had come back from the Alpha Site to help fight the Wraith.
And some fight that must have been! Based on his looks, Kavanagh must have broken, or at least sprained, a few of his ribs, has perhaps a concussion, too, and his face is badly bruised. He seems to be in a great deal of pain, which wouldn’t bother Rodney, back in Atlantis, that is - after all, Kavanagh is a pain in the ass, but here… here he’s one of the Atlantis people. What’s more, he’s a member of the science division, which makes him Rodney’s responsibility.
So Rodney quietly slips into the room - he can do quiet, if he has to, contrary to common belief - to see how the man is doing… and what those soldiers might want from him. Nobody notices him standing in the shadowy corner, so he can watch undisturbed.
It’s strange that Kavanagh would be visited by a complete SG-unit, he finds. But then, Rodney suddenly remembers, the man has gone off-world with SG-13 on a semi-regular basis for almost two years - or was it more? He can’t really remember, and it isn’t important anyway. But if this is SG-13, then the big, balding man with the icy, pale blue eyes and a colonel’s insignia on his uniform must be their commanding officer, Dave Dixon, and the redhead is probably Dr. Balinsky, their resident geek. Rodney can’t even guess what Balinsky’s field would be - probably something with soft sciences, he thinks unimpressed; SG-units always drag archaeologists with them in the hope to find abandoned Ancient sites.
What impresses the hell out of him, though, is the way Colonel Dixon treats Kavanagh: as an equal; something Rodney has yet to get from Sheppard. Dixon surely looks like someone who isn’t worried about getting chummy with his men, and that, apparently, includes Kavanagh, unbelievable as it is for Rodney. There aren’t such barbed little remarks born of the delusion of superiority he so often gets from Sheppard, either.
And it isn’t just the colonel. The other two airmen seem to be awfully buddy-buddy with Atlantis’ - hopefully no longer resident - jerk, which is even more surprising. On Atlantis, only Sergeant Markham has… had, Rodney corrects himself, remembering the sad fact that Markham is dead, too… a more or less friendly disposition towards scientists, and even he only towards Zelenka. Which could have been just a case of survival instinct, as Zelenka is the one responsible for jumper maintenance, and Markham used to be one of the pilots.
But what could any solider possibly like about Kavanagh?
The question bothers Rodney so much that he returns to the hospital on the next day. And the day after that. He soon becomes such a familiar figure that the hospital staff doesn’t even consciously notice his presence anymore. He visits his recovering colleagues on a daily basis… with one exception.
Kavanagh, he watches. And by doing so, he realizes that the man will not miss his visit at all. He has already more than enough visitors. If it isn’t SG-13 as a group or one by one (including sometimes Colonel Dixon’s bird-like little wife, or the pretty, fresh-faced one of the young airman), then it’s that leggy blonde from Sweden, Chloe something, who now works with that idiot Jay Felger. Dr. Bill Lee, who discovers Rodney on his way out and stops happily for a little gossip, hints that Kavanagh had something to go with the Ice Princess of the North while still working for the SGC - which is hard enough to imagine, because really, not even blondes could be dumb enough to have an affair with Kavanagh… or can they?
Other scientists from the SGC drop in briefly, too. And even soldiers, no matter how hard it is to believe. Even General O’Neill pays a visit; granted, he visits every wounded expedition member, but the two of them seem awfully friendly. Rodney remembers that Kavanagh’s outrageous video message - the one in which he tried to backstab Elizabeth - was originally addressed to O’Neill or so Ford said. Back then, Rodney dismissed that fact with the assumption that Kavanagh had simply gone to the highest possible authority. Now, watching O’Neill hold Kavanagh’s youngest son on his knees, he isn’t so certain anymore.
Oh, yes - the family. That’s another part of the equation Rodney can’t understand, has never understood. In his opinion, family life and serious science has never matched; hence the conflict with Jeannie. The fact that Kavanagh seems to have not only a surprising amount of friends - or, at the very least, close associates - at the SGC, but also a fairly large family, should reassure him about the man’s inability to be a good scientist or a good father, because, honestly, what kind of father can he be, going off to another galaxy on what’s probably a one-way-mission, leaving his kids behind?
Granted, Zelenka did the same, but that’s different. There are special circumstances. The Czech has been divorced by his ambitious wife, who hardly ever allowed him to see his little daughter anyway, so being in a different galaxy didn’t really mean that much difference. But why would Kavanagh leave his kids behind?
Despite being reassured in his opinion that the long-haired scientist is a jerk and a selfish prick, Rodney’s curiosity is now piqued. There must be an answer, and he’s a scientist, trained and used to finding answers. So he begins to ask questions, and the picture he gets from the other man keeps changing constantly.
Sure he’s known that Kavanagh had kids, back when he suggested hiring the man for the SGC. But he thought Kavanagh to be one of those divorced fathers whose parental duties are reduced to paying alimony to their ex-wives. Like Zelenka, although the scruffy little Czech would be all too happy for a chance to be a real father for his kid.
But the story Rodney puts together piece by piece is a very different one. Sure, he’s read Kavanagh’s file when the man got selected for the Atlantis expedition, but never gave the note “Fragile X carrier” any thought. If the medical department didn’t consider that a risk, why should he be worried? It couldn’t be anything dangerous.
Now he knows better. Now he knows that the curly blond kid that was sitting on General O’Neill’s knee will never develop mentally any further than the state of a six-year-old… what a shock it must have been for a scientist when it came out! Now he knows that the thin, tired-faced woman isn’t Kavanagh’s ex but his older sister, who raises the kids in his absence, together with her hubby and with the help of that tall, handsome young man, their younger brother. Now he understands that Kavanagh has left his family behind for the hazard pay they’re getting, because the therapy for the younger kid and the special school for the highly talented but emotionally disturbed older one swallow ungodly amounts of cash.
Rodney hears whispered stories about how Kavanagh’s ex had run off with the older boy, unable to deal with the “damaged” younger one. About the long and ugly courtroom fight for the custody of the children. About the struggle to feed and keep together the patchwork family before Kavanagh got hired for the SGC, with both sister and brother-in-law unemployed and younger brother still finishing college.
Rodney takes the time to read the mission reports of SG-13, too. He wants to see how Kavanagh has performed on the field. He’s in for a surprise again. It seems that Kavanagh not only got along with the team - not splendidly, granted, he’s way too sarcastic for that, but well enough not to be kicked out - but contributed to the solving of several life-threatening problems while off-world. Okay, he hasn’t saved the team (or the world in general) single-handedly as Rodney would have, but without him, things might not have worked. Plus, he’s apparently a fairly good shot, if Colonel Dixon’s little side remarks tell the truth - and why should the colonel lie?
Those reports were most likely what got Kavanagh into the Atlantis expedition the first time. It’s all the more surprising that everyone seemed to forget about them when they finally got to Atlantis.
That said, Rodney still thinks the man’s a jerk and irritates the living hell out of him. Of course, he’s aware of the fact that many people say the same things about him. Even Zelenka declared once that the reason why they didn’t get along was that they were too much alike. “Too many parallels,” Radek called it. That declaration earned Zelenka the worst working schedule for the next two weeks, but Rodney now thinks that perhaps he was right… to a certain extent.
Because while it’s true that both Rodney and Kavanagh are brilliant, arrogant, and impatient men (save from Rodney’s bonus as a genius), there are also fundamental differences. Would Kavanagh be forced to return to Earth, he’d not be devastated. He apparently has friends, family, and respect here - all things that he doesn’t have in Atlantis - and he would fit in again well enough. A lot better than in Atlantis, to tell the truth.
Rodney, on the other hand, has nothing on Earth. The only place where he’s accepted, where he has a few tentative friendships, is Atlantis. He must return there, for his life to become whole again. Kavanagh doesn’t need to do so… or does he? Rodney is not sure. Despite all that he’s learned in the recent days, the other man is still an enigma for him - one he doesn’t particularly like. But even he has to admit (out of the other man’s earshot, of course) that Kavanagh is a decent enough scientist - and he might yet prove useful on off-world missions. Perhaps Sergeant Stackhouse would like to have a resident geek on his team. Or whoever will take over for Bates.
In any case, Rodney knows, that - should Kavanagh wish to return to Atlantis after his recovery - he won’t object. Sure, he is a jerk, but one that has been with them from the beginning. He’d still do better than any of the newbies, because he’s gone through fire with them… and he remembers. He can remember Colonel Sumner, Gaul, Hays, Petersen, Dumais, Johnson, Wagner, Markham… and Peter Grodin, without whom the Gate room will never be the same again.
And as long as he remembers, as long as they all remember, the ones lost won’t be entirely dead.
That’s something worth enduring Kavanagh’s sneers, complaints and generally unpleasant nature for the upcoming years. Because, in the end, he’s one of them. One of the first group, and whoever may come to replace those who’ve died, it will never be the same. They won’t remember, because they weren’t there. Kavanagh was.
Title: Parallels
Author: Santa Claus
Recipient: curia_regis
Rating: G
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Season 2, right after The Siege, Part 3 (when the wounded are shipped back to Earth).
Summary: Returning to Earth, Rodney McKay has to face some uncomfortable facts… among them some concerning Kavanagh.
Author’s note:
I know that since “Midway” Kavanagh’s first name is supposed to be Peter. I don’t care. If the PTB couldn’t be bothered to give him a first name for three years and a half, they shouldn’t complain that I’ve long settled for a different one. I’ve written Kavanagh as Calvin for all those years, I’ve created his entire background inspired by that name - I’m not going to change it. Besides, for me “Peter” is and will always be Grodin in the Atlantis universe.
As for Balinsky - I realized that his first name should be Cameron when I’d already written him as “Lou” for quite some time. So I decided to stick with that - you can consider it as a nickname, if the change bothers you. Many people don’t like their real names and don’t use it.
Part One
The return to Earth is a strangely alienating experience for Rodney McKay; something he hasn’t really expected when he left for Atlantis in the first place. He’s not sure he likes the change. Sure, people at the SGC treat him with a great deal more respect than they used to. Even Sam Carter seems impressed when discussing the events and discoveries of the Pegasus Galaxy with him. But the easy camaraderie shared by the SGC members still excludes him. He’s still not one of them. And when the debriefings and conferences and meetings are over, at the end of a long, exhausting day, he still returns to an empty, almost sterile apartment, barely worth calling living quarters, since he doesn’t actually live there. He just sleeps there sometimes.
And Miss Kitty is the only one who’s delighted by his return. Most of the time, anyway. When she’s not sulking for having been left to the care of strangers for so long. It’s amazing how good cats are at keeping grudges.
The nights are the worst. He never slept much; there has always been too much work to do, and his overactive mind wouldn’t allow him to rest longer anyway. But after the industrial amount of military-strength amphetamines he consumed in the weeks before and during the siege of Atlantis seem to have disturbed his sleeping patterns… such as they’ve ever been. Patterns have never played much of a role in his hectic life. Now he can’t sleep any longer than an hour or two at one go, and he often wakes up from a nightmare, trembling uncontrollably and covered with cold sweat.
One would think that his nightmares would feature the Wraith, predominantly. Those guys are made to induce nightmares. They are nightmare personified. But no, they barely ever haunt his sleep. Neither do the Genii, which, too, is surprising, considering what he’s personally suffered at Kolya’s hands. Or any of the dozen or so aliens or technical disasters or natural phenomena that have tried to kill them all in new and highly creative ways.
No, his prominent nightmare features the terrible bloom of fire, soundless in the black vacuum of place: the inevitable destruction of the defence satellite after the haphazardly rerouted circuitry has burned out irreparably, the only sound Peter Grodin’s soft “I’m sorry” coming through his headset.
Grodin’s apology echoes through his nightmares every single night. Three, four times a night, actually. As if losing the man hadn’t been bad enough. What did Peter apologize for? It was him, Rodney, who left the man behind to die - the fact that he didn’t have any other choice doesn’t make the fact any easier to bear.
Being helpless and watching others die because you are helpless is never easy. Especially when you liked the person in question. And Rodney did like Grodin. The man was almost as intelligent as Radek - not that Rodney would ever publicly acknowledge Zelenka’s intelligence, but the scruffy little Czech is a genius in his own way. Not a genius of Rodney’s own magnitude, of course, but still magnitudes better than anyone else Rodney has ever worked with… and Grodin was almost as good.
Plus, Peter Grodin was one of those rare persons who liked Rodney. Not that it means much, granted, as Grodin seemed to like just about everyone - hell, he even spent time with Kavanagh voluntarily, after they’d returned from that near-disastrous mission from that secret Genii outpost - but it was still nice to have the company of an almost-equal mind. And a pleasant company it was, with Grodin being competent and easy-going and funny… the closest thing Rodney has ever had to a friend, with the exception of Zelenka.
Here, on Earth, Rodney has nobody like that. Zelenka is back in Atlantis, shouldering the responsibilities Rodney is meant to shoulder under normal circumstances, and Grodin’s workload, too. All the remaining scientists have to step in for those killed during the siege or shipped off aboard the Daedalus because of their injuries.
So many have died. Even before the siege: due to the nanovirus that wiped out five people within hours, at the hands of the Genii, at the hands of the Wraith. Sure, now that contact has been re-established, replacements will be sent to Atlantis - but that won’t be the same. No one who hasn’t been there from the beginning will ever understand the bond formed between the members of the original expedition… or compensate the losses of so many from the first hour.
So many have died. And so many others are now lying in the Air Force Academy Hospital in Colorado Springs, receiving treatment, while the others, back in Atlantis, are working themselves into an early grave to work in their stead, too.
And Rodney McKay, healthy (aside from chronic insomnia) and more capable than all the others counted together, is forced to waste his time in committees that don’t have the faintest idea what it was like, back in Pegasus. It’s not their fault; in his rare honest moments, Rodney realizes that, but that realization doesn’t make him more forgiving towards military and government bureaucrats.
They are supposed to spend six weeks on Earth; to catch up with their former lives, to get reconnected with friends and family - if they can find the time to do so, despite the endless and totally harebrained meetings, that is. Carson Beckett has already thrown a temper tantrum (as mild-mannered as he is, he can get really cranky when his time is wasted, especially if it’s time he could spend with his elderly mother whom he hasn’t seen for a year), and Sheppard, too, is showing first signs of rebellious behaviour. It’s understandable. They haven’t expected to return to Earth, not really - but now that they’re actually here, they could think of better ways to spend their time.
But Rodney has no former life to catch up with… aside from Miss Kitty, that is. No old friends to meet. No family to visit.
Sure, he has recorded that message for Jeannie, but as regular contact is now re-established with Earth, those messages were never actually sent. Rodney is grateful for that fact. It would be… awkward. Yes, yes, he has admitted the importance of family in that aborted message, but it doesn’t mean he’d actually want to meet Jeannie. Or that moronic husband of hers who dragged her down from the perspective heights of abstract science to domestic mediocrity.
And while Rodney is still angry with Caleb Miller (of course he knows the man’s name, he’d just never admit it, because his seeming indifference pisses off Jeannie more than anything else) for reducing his brilliant sister to a common housewife, he suddenly realizes that anger has lost any personal affect. He’s still pissed that someone of Jeannie’s potential is lost for science, but he no longer misses his sister. He no longer feels betrayed on a personal level by Jeannie’s decision.
Because, as he suddenly realizes, Earth is no longer home. It has never been a good one for him, never one he truly felt bound to, but for the greater part of his life it was the only one. Now he knows better. Now the focus of his life lies elsewhere. In a different galaxy populated by vampiric aliens that can suck the life out of him through their palm; in a ten thousand-year-old, semi-sentient city that is actually a spaceship, where his presence is needed in a way it was never needed on Earth.
And with that revelation comes the knowledge what he needs to do to survive those six weeks on Earth. He needs to reconnect… not with his former life, but with the current one. And connection to that new life now can only be found in one place: at the hospital where the wounded Atlantis people are lying.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Two
The wounded from Atlantis have been sent to the Air Force Academy Hospital for two reasons: they needed the best care the Stargate program could offer, and that was the hospital where the brass didn’t have to worry about sensitive information leaking out via medical personnel. USAF officers - even medical officers - know all too well the meaning of confidential information.
On the other hand, they are also well enough informed to know whom they can let in to the patients. Family are one such group; team members from Atlantis are the other one. Beyond that, the patients are fairly isolated, and even with family visiting, there’s always some medical personnel present. Some people tend to speak in their sleep, or when under drugs. The SGC doesn’t want to take any risks.
Compared with others, Rodney has it easy to get in. His ongoing insomnia does give him a - however transparent - excuse to visit the hospital, and even though Dr. Brightman, the almost worthy successor of the unforgettable Dr. Frasier, saw through it, she was understanding enough to let him into the secure wing to visit his comrades.
The strong, familiar scent of medicines and disinfectants bites his nose as soon as he enters, but he forces himself to visit every single one shipped back from Atlantis, even the worst, most hopeless cases. Like that poor Bates, who’s still in a coma, hanging on dozens of drips and monitors and other medical instruments, a very young man with a faint resemblance to him at his bedside, watching him from wide, frightened eyes. Rodney knows from Ford that Bates has a kid brother, and it isn’t hard to guess who the young man in his room might be. Rodney recognizes the pretty, dark-skinned girl with them as Ford’s cousin, the same one Sheppard has sought out a short time ago.
Ford isn’t here, of course. He’s out there, somewhere in the Pegasus, pumped full with Wraith enzyme, lost, lonely, insane, and dangerous. One day, the soldiers of Atlantis may have no other choice than hunt him down, just as Colonel Caldwell has already demanded. But the girl doesn’t know that, and she never will. All she knows is that Ford is MIA, and that the only one she knows of those who have returned is Bates. She probably came to connect somehow through the man who once was Ford’s mentor in things of field missions and taught him all the dirty tricks of fighting and survival, and who’s now just an unresponsive body, hanging on life support. Still, as long as she doesn’t know, she can at least hope. Rodney wishes he could, too, but he’s seen enough to know that the Pegasus isn’t really big at giving back those it has already taken.
In the next room, there’s quite a crowd - that is, if one considers a four-man SG-unit a crowd. Three Air Force soldiers and a civilian with shockingly bright red hair are sitting around a bed in which, hanging on almost as many drops and control monitors as Bates, a lanky, long-haired man is lying. His face is pale with pain and the effort to be at least semi-coherent, but even without the glasses, his features are unmistakable.
It is Kavanagh.
Rodney spent the days of the siege of Atlantis in a state of waking nightmare. Overdosed on those damned amphetamines, he worked with Zelenka on saving the city in a near-hallucinate haze. Few things could get through that state of mind. So no, he didn’t know that Kavanagh, too, had been injured. Hell, he didn’t even know the man had come back from the Alpha Site to help fight the Wraith.
And some fight that must have been! Based on his looks, Kavanagh must have broken, or at least sprained, a few of his ribs, has perhaps a concussion, too, and his face is badly bruised. He seems to be in a great deal of pain, which wouldn’t bother Rodney, back in Atlantis, that is - after all, Kavanagh is a pain in the ass, but here… here he’s one of the Atlantis people. What’s more, he’s a member of the science division, which makes him Rodney’s responsibility.
So Rodney quietly slips into the room - he can do quiet, if he has to, contrary to common belief - to see how the man is doing… and what those soldiers might want from him. Nobody notices him standing in the shadowy corner, so he can watch undisturbed.
It’s strange that Kavanagh would be visited by a complete SG-unit, he finds. But then, Rodney suddenly remembers, the man has gone off-world with SG-13 on a semi-regular basis for almost two years - or was it more? He can’t really remember, and it isn’t important anyway. But if this is SG-13, then the big, balding man with the icy, pale blue eyes and a colonel’s insignia on his uniform must be their commanding officer, Dave Dixon, and the redhead is probably Dr. Balinsky, their resident geek. Rodney can’t even guess what Balinsky’s field would be - probably something with soft sciences, he thinks unimpressed; SG-units always drag archaeologists with them in the hope to find abandoned Ancient sites.
What impresses the hell out of him, though, is the way Colonel Dixon treats Kavanagh: as an equal; something Rodney has yet to get from Sheppard. Dixon surely looks like someone who isn’t worried about getting chummy with his men, and that, apparently, includes Kavanagh, unbelievable as it is for Rodney. There aren’t such barbed little remarks born of the delusion of superiority he so often gets from Sheppard, either.
And it isn’t just the colonel. The other two airmen seem to be awfully buddy-buddy with Atlantis’ - hopefully no longer resident - jerk, which is even more surprising. On Atlantis, only Sergeant Markham has… had, Rodney corrects himself, remembering the sad fact that Markham is dead, too… a more or less friendly disposition towards scientists, and even he only towards Zelenka. Which could have been just a case of survival instinct, as Zelenka is the one responsible for jumper maintenance, and Markham used to be one of the pilots.
But what could any solider possibly like about Kavanagh?
The question bothers Rodney so much that he returns to the hospital on the next day. And the day after that. He soon becomes such a familiar figure that the hospital staff doesn’t even consciously notice his presence anymore. He visits his recovering colleagues on a daily basis… with one exception.
Kavanagh, he watches. And by doing so, he realizes that the man will not miss his visit at all. He has already more than enough visitors. If it isn’t SG-13 as a group or one by one (including sometimes Colonel Dixon’s bird-like little wife, or the pretty, fresh-faced one of the young airman), then it’s that leggy blonde from Sweden, Chloe something, who now works with that idiot Jay Felger. Dr. Bill Lee, who discovers Rodney on his way out and stops happily for a little gossip, hints that Kavanagh had something to go with the Ice Princess of the North while still working for the SGC - which is hard enough to imagine, because really, not even blondes could be dumb enough to have an affair with Kavanagh… or can they?
Other scientists from the SGC drop in briefly, too. And even soldiers, no matter how hard it is to believe. Even General O’Neill pays a visit; granted, he visits every wounded expedition member, but the two of them seem awfully friendly. Rodney remembers that Kavanagh’s outrageous video message - the one in which he tried to backstab Elizabeth - was originally addressed to O’Neill or so Ford said. Back then, Rodney dismissed that fact with the assumption that Kavanagh had simply gone to the highest possible authority. Now, watching O’Neill hold Kavanagh’s youngest son on his knees, he isn’t so certain anymore.
Oh, yes - the family. That’s another part of the equation Rodney can’t understand, has never understood. In his opinion, family life and serious science has never matched; hence the conflict with Jeannie. The fact that Kavanagh seems to have not only a surprising amount of friends - or, at the very least, close associates - at the SGC, but also a fairly large family, should reassure him about the man’s inability to be a good scientist or a good father, because, honestly, what kind of father can he be, going off to another galaxy on what’s probably a one-way-mission, leaving his kids behind?
Granted, Zelenka did the same, but that’s different. There are special circumstances. The Czech has been divorced by his ambitious wife, who hardly ever allowed him to see his little daughter anyway, so being in a different galaxy didn’t really mean that much difference. But why would Kavanagh leave his kids behind?
Despite being reassured in his opinion that the long-haired scientist is a jerk and a selfish prick, Rodney’s curiosity is now piqued. There must be an answer, and he’s a scientist, trained and used to finding answers. So he begins to ask questions, and the picture he gets from the other man keeps changing constantly.
Sure he’s known that Kavanagh had kids, back when he suggested hiring the man for the SGC. But he thought Kavanagh to be one of those divorced fathers whose parental duties are reduced to paying alimony to their ex-wives. Like Zelenka, although the scruffy little Czech would be all too happy for a chance to be a real father for his kid.
But the story Rodney puts together piece by piece is a very different one. Sure, he’s read Kavanagh’s file when the man got selected for the Atlantis expedition, but never gave the note “Fragile X carrier” any thought. If the medical department didn’t consider that a risk, why should he be worried? It couldn’t be anything dangerous.
Now he knows better. Now he knows that the curly blond kid that was sitting on General O’Neill’s knee will never develop mentally any further than the state of a six-year-old… what a shock it must have been for a scientist when it came out! Now he knows that the thin, tired-faced woman isn’t Kavanagh’s ex but his older sister, who raises the kids in his absence, together with her hubby and with the help of that tall, handsome young man, their younger brother. Now he understands that Kavanagh has left his family behind for the hazard pay they’re getting, because the therapy for the younger kid and the special school for the highly talented but emotionally disturbed older one swallow ungodly amounts of cash.
Rodney hears whispered stories about how Kavanagh’s ex had run off with the older boy, unable to deal with the “damaged” younger one. About the long and ugly courtroom fight for the custody of the children. About the struggle to feed and keep together the patchwork family before Kavanagh got hired for the SGC, with both sister and brother-in-law unemployed and younger brother still finishing college.
Rodney takes the time to read the mission reports of SG-13, too. He wants to see how Kavanagh has performed on the field. He’s in for a surprise again. It seems that Kavanagh not only got along with the team - not splendidly, granted, he’s way too sarcastic for that, but well enough not to be kicked out - but contributed to the solving of several life-threatening problems while off-world. Okay, he hasn’t saved the team (or the world in general) single-handedly as Rodney would have, but without him, things might not have worked. Plus, he’s apparently a fairly good shot, if Colonel Dixon’s little side remarks tell the truth - and why should the colonel lie?
Those reports were most likely what got Kavanagh into the Atlantis expedition the first time. It’s all the more surprising that everyone seemed to forget about them when they finally got to Atlantis.
That said, Rodney still thinks the man’s a jerk and irritates the living hell out of him. Of course, he’s aware of the fact that many people say the same things about him. Even Zelenka declared once that the reason why they didn’t get along was that they were too much alike. “Too many parallels,” Radek called it. That declaration earned Zelenka the worst working schedule for the next two weeks, but Rodney now thinks that perhaps he was right… to a certain extent.
Because while it’s true that both Rodney and Kavanagh are brilliant, arrogant, and impatient men (save from Rodney’s bonus as a genius), there are also fundamental differences. Would Kavanagh be forced to return to Earth, he’d not be devastated. He apparently has friends, family, and respect here - all things that he doesn’t have in Atlantis - and he would fit in again well enough. A lot better than in Atlantis, to tell the truth.
Rodney, on the other hand, has nothing on Earth. The only place where he’s accepted, where he has a few tentative friendships, is Atlantis. He must return there, for his life to become whole again. Kavanagh doesn’t need to do so… or does he? Rodney is not sure. Despite all that he’s learned in the recent days, the other man is still an enigma for him - one he doesn’t particularly like. But even he has to admit (out of the other man’s earshot, of course) that Kavanagh is a decent enough scientist - and he might yet prove useful on off-world missions. Perhaps Sergeant Stackhouse would like to have a resident geek on his team. Or whoever will take over for Bates.
In any case, Rodney knows, that - should Kavanagh wish to return to Atlantis after his recovery - he won’t object. Sure, he is a jerk, but one that has been with them from the beginning. He’d still do better than any of the newbies, because he’s gone through fire with them… and he remembers. He can remember Colonel Sumner, Gaul, Hays, Petersen, Dumais, Johnson, Wagner, Markham… and Peter Grodin, without whom the Gate room will never be the same again.
And as long as he remembers, as long as they all remember, the ones lost won’t be entirely dead.
That’s something worth enduring Kavanagh’s sneers, complaints and generally unpleasant nature for the upcoming years. Because, in the end, he’s one of them. One of the first group, and whoever may come to replace those who’ve died, it will never be the same. They won’t remember, because they weren’t there. Kavanagh was.