Match Made in Heaven, by lavvyan (PG, ~1,300 words)
Not formally closed yet, so. :D
A few people may remember the story I didn't write about Rodney McKay being an angel. Here's another one I'm not writing, because it would be silly and cheesy.
This time, Rodney would be happy as a clam in his corner of heaven. He'd have his scrolls and books and data pads - because what good would heaven be if you couldn't have everything you wanted - spread across three clouds at least, crouched over a millennium puzzle the Lord gave him to keep him happy. Millenium, because even an angel as bright as Rodney would need a few centuries to solve this one.
Then again, it would possibly go faster if Rodney weren't interrupted every few decades.
"What is it now?" he snaps at the hapless angel come to deliver his latest assignment. The angel, pale and blond and entirely unremarkable, points down toward Earth.
"John Sheppard," he says. "Just lost his mother. You are to make him happy."
Rodney scowls, but doesn't argue because doing the Lord's bidding is his job. So he takes a look at the dark-haired boy below, watches him watch the sky for a moment, and snaps his fingers.
"Well, clearly he wants to fly. So get him a job in the air."
And he returns to his puzzle, satisfied that this turned out to be one of the easier assignments.
After what seems like no time at all, the angel is back.
"Your charge, John Sheppard," he says, shifting uncomfortably as Rodney glowers at him. "He isn't happy."
"Well, did he get to fly?"
"Yes."
Rodney heaves an enormous sigh - the things he has to put up with - and looks down. The dark-haired boy has grown up into a young man, long-limbed and slender. He has signed up for the Air Force - throwing bombs on people, lovely - but except for a very few friends, he's alone. Even at a distance, Rodney can see that he's lonely.
"No problem," he says with a wave of his hand, "he just needs to get married."
And really, it should have worked like a charm, but the next time the angel meekly clears his throat and Rodney looks down, Captain Sheppard is sitting at a family dinner, wearing his dress blues, his beautiful wife seated across from him, laughing at something his father said. He looks even unhappier than he did before.
"Oh, for-" Rodney throws up his hands. "Fine. A change of scenery then." He stabs his finger at the angel, who takes a step back. "And I'm going down there myself."
Clearly, this needs to be dealt with in person.
By the time Rodney has established himself in a position that allows him to get to Sheppard, a few more years have passed, but it isn't like he doesn't have the time. Sheppard is a major when Rodney's plans finally come together in the bright swirl of a holographic solar system above Sheppard's head. He's also divorced, has somehow managed to collect a black mark for being heroic, and doesn't have a friend in the world.
Rodney's going to take care of that.
Sure enough, Sheppard relaxes once he's on Atlantis, enough to forge a few personal connections. Rodney himself becomes one of those friends, which is somewhat surprising but also strangely… nice. There are some setbacks, like losing Lt. Ford, but slowly, Sheppard opens up. Rodney's very proud of himself, and it doesn't hurt that the Ancient technology is a lot of fun to play with. He hardly dares to admit it, but this is the most challenging, yet oddly enjoyable, time he's had in centuries.
"He's still not happy, you know," the angel says, once, nearly giving Rodney a heart attack when he appears in his bathroom in the middle of a shower.
"Yes, yes," Rodney says, demonstratively scrubbing beneath his armpits with both hands, just to see the bugger flush. "I have it all planned out. First he makes some friends, then he falls in love. See? One happy human coming right up."
There's a reason he's a brilliant scientist and the other angel is just a lowly messenger.
So he snaps his fingers, leans back - as much as that's possible in a city that tries to kill them all at least twice a month - and waits. And waits. And waits. Several women make a pass at him while he waits, but Rodney's an angel, not Casanova. Besides, his attention is focussed mostly on his job - both of them - no matter how pretty and charming and nice said women are.
And then John dies.
It's an emergency, of course, the city bucking and screaming and refusing all attempts at keeping it alive and floating until Rodney literally beats it into submission. There's a cold feeling spreading through him like poisoned adrenaline, and he runs to find his charge.
John lies slumped in a remote corridor, uniform torn and face bloody, a twisted sheet of metal sticking out of his chest. Several of the wall panels exploded when the conductors behind them went up, and one of them obviously caught John mid-run.
An angel is standing next to him, dark-skinned and beautiful, her wings lightly touching the ground as she holds the Book of Life in one hand and a black-feathered quill in the other.
"John Sheppard," she intones, touching the quill to the paper, "born the fifth January in the Lord's year of 1967, died-"
"Now wait a minute," Rodney protests, his chest tight, "this is my charge! You can't just come barging in here and take away someone else's charge!"
She looks at him, her face full of sympathy. "Your charge, I fear, is dead," she says gently. "Your guardianship is over. Now." She clears her throat. "John Sheppard. Born the fifth of January in the Lord's year of 1967, died the third of-"
"But he wasn't happy yet! I didn't get to finish my assignment!"
"The Lord's ways are wonderful and ineffable," the angel says, a hint of impatience on her beautiful face. "Perhaps he thought you were taking too long. And now, if you will?" Again, the quill touches down on the paper. "John Sheppard, born-"
"Too long!" Rodney gestures wildly at John. "He was supposed to fall in love! How is it my fault if he doesn't manage to fall in love in six years?!"
The angel snaps the book shut and throws the quill at him. "He was in love with you, dumbass!"
"I… what?" Rodney asks faintly, his heart pounding wildly in his chest at the mere idea that… because naturally it's not possible, but if it were… and he and John could…
"You… Look, give me that!" He reaches for the book.
The angel scowls and holds it away from him. "I still have to write down his name."
"Like hell you do." Rodney takes the book out of her hands as she stares at him in shock, because what good is a veto if you don't use it? So he disappears the book and shoos her away, and then he spreads his wings - there goes his favourite shirt - and kneels down beside John's body, cradles it in his arms as he folds his wings around them, not caring about the blood that stains them.
And then he prays.
And the Lord's ways are truly wonderful and ineffable, because it takes no time at all for John's wounds to close and for him to take a shuddering breath. A suspicious soul might even think that the whole purpose of this production was to teach him a lesson.
"Rodney?" John croaks, blinking at Rodney and at the wings around them with a look of utter befuddlement, and Rodney leans down and kisses him, because really, after all of this, what else is there to do?
And as he feels John's lips stretch into a smile, he's filled with the warmth of happiness, and the knowledge of a job well done.
~~~
berlinghoff79 and Dorie? Feel free to kick me now. *cringes*
A few people may remember the story I didn't write about Rodney McKay being an angel. Here's another one I'm not writing, because it would be silly and cheesy.
This time, Rodney would be happy as a clam in his corner of heaven. He'd have his scrolls and books and data pads - because what good would heaven be if you couldn't have everything you wanted - spread across three clouds at least, crouched over a millennium puzzle the Lord gave him to keep him happy. Millenium, because even an angel as bright as Rodney would need a few centuries to solve this one.
Then again, it would possibly go faster if Rodney weren't interrupted every few decades.
"What is it now?" he snaps at the hapless angel come to deliver his latest assignment. The angel, pale and blond and entirely unremarkable, points down toward Earth.
"John Sheppard," he says. "Just lost his mother. You are to make him happy."
Rodney scowls, but doesn't argue because doing the Lord's bidding is his job. So he takes a look at the dark-haired boy below, watches him watch the sky for a moment, and snaps his fingers.
"Well, clearly he wants to fly. So get him a job in the air."
And he returns to his puzzle, satisfied that this turned out to be one of the easier assignments.
After what seems like no time at all, the angel is back.
"Your charge, John Sheppard," he says, shifting uncomfortably as Rodney glowers at him. "He isn't happy."
"Well, did he get to fly?"
"Yes."
Rodney heaves an enormous sigh - the things he has to put up with - and looks down. The dark-haired boy has grown up into a young man, long-limbed and slender. He has signed up for the Air Force - throwing bombs on people, lovely - but except for a very few friends, he's alone. Even at a distance, Rodney can see that he's lonely.
"No problem," he says with a wave of his hand, "he just needs to get married."
And really, it should have worked like a charm, but the next time the angel meekly clears his throat and Rodney looks down, Captain Sheppard is sitting at a family dinner, wearing his dress blues, his beautiful wife seated across from him, laughing at something his father said. He looks even unhappier than he did before.
"Oh, for-" Rodney throws up his hands. "Fine. A change of scenery then." He stabs his finger at the angel, who takes a step back. "And I'm going down there myself."
Clearly, this needs to be dealt with in person.
By the time Rodney has established himself in a position that allows him to get to Sheppard, a few more years have passed, but it isn't like he doesn't have the time. Sheppard is a major when Rodney's plans finally come together in the bright swirl of a holographic solar system above Sheppard's head. He's also divorced, has somehow managed to collect a black mark for being heroic, and doesn't have a friend in the world.
Rodney's going to take care of that.
Sure enough, Sheppard relaxes once he's on Atlantis, enough to forge a few personal connections. Rodney himself becomes one of those friends, which is somewhat surprising but also strangely… nice. There are some setbacks, like losing Lt. Ford, but slowly, Sheppard opens up. Rodney's very proud of himself, and it doesn't hurt that the Ancient technology is a lot of fun to play with. He hardly dares to admit it, but this is the most challenging, yet oddly enjoyable, time he's had in centuries.
"He's still not happy, you know," the angel says, once, nearly giving Rodney a heart attack when he appears in his bathroom in the middle of a shower.
"Yes, yes," Rodney says, demonstratively scrubbing beneath his armpits with both hands, just to see the bugger flush. "I have it all planned out. First he makes some friends, then he falls in love. See? One happy human coming right up."
There's a reason he's a brilliant scientist and the other angel is just a lowly messenger.
So he snaps his fingers, leans back - as much as that's possible in a city that tries to kill them all at least twice a month - and waits. And waits. And waits. Several women make a pass at him while he waits, but Rodney's an angel, not Casanova. Besides, his attention is focussed mostly on his job - both of them - no matter how pretty and charming and nice said women are.
And then John dies.
It's an emergency, of course, the city bucking and screaming and refusing all attempts at keeping it alive and floating until Rodney literally beats it into submission. There's a cold feeling spreading through him like poisoned adrenaline, and he runs to find his charge.
John lies slumped in a remote corridor, uniform torn and face bloody, a twisted sheet of metal sticking out of his chest. Several of the wall panels exploded when the conductors behind them went up, and one of them obviously caught John mid-run.
An angel is standing next to him, dark-skinned and beautiful, her wings lightly touching the ground as she holds the Book of Life in one hand and a black-feathered quill in the other.
"John Sheppard," she intones, touching the quill to the paper, "born the fifth January in the Lord's year of 1967, died-"
"Now wait a minute," Rodney protests, his chest tight, "this is my charge! You can't just come barging in here and take away someone else's charge!"
She looks at him, her face full of sympathy. "Your charge, I fear, is dead," she says gently. "Your guardianship is over. Now." She clears her throat. "John Sheppard. Born the fifth of January in the Lord's year of 1967, died the third of-"
"But he wasn't happy yet! I didn't get to finish my assignment!"
"The Lord's ways are wonderful and ineffable," the angel says, a hint of impatience on her beautiful face. "Perhaps he thought you were taking too long. And now, if you will?" Again, the quill touches down on the paper. "John Sheppard, born-"
"Too long!" Rodney gestures wildly at John. "He was supposed to fall in love! How is it my fault if he doesn't manage to fall in love in six years?!"
The angel snaps the book shut and throws the quill at him. "He was in love with you, dumbass!"
"I… what?" Rodney asks faintly, his heart pounding wildly in his chest at the mere idea that… because naturally it's not possible, but if it were… and he and John could…
"You… Look, give me that!" He reaches for the book.
The angel scowls and holds it away from him. "I still have to write down his name."
"Like hell you do." Rodney takes the book out of her hands as she stares at him in shock, because what good is a veto if you don't use it? So he disappears the book and shoos her away, and then he spreads his wings - there goes his favourite shirt - and kneels down beside John's body, cradles it in his arms as he folds his wings around them, not caring about the blood that stains them.
And then he prays.
And the Lord's ways are truly wonderful and ineffable, because it takes no time at all for John's wounds to close and for him to take a shuddering breath. A suspicious soul might even think that the whole purpose of this production was to teach him a lesson.
"Rodney?" John croaks, blinking at Rodney and at the wings around them with a look of utter befuddlement, and Rodney leans down and kisses him, because really, after all of this, what else is there to do?
And as he feels John's lips stretch into a smile, he's filled with the warmth of happiness, and the knowledge of a job well done.
~~~
berlinghoff79 and Dorie? Feel free to kick me now. *cringes*