FIC: Heaven Is A Place On Earth 2/6
Headers and such in part 1.
Heaven Is A Place On Earth, 2/6
***
Rodney didn’t leave.
Instead of strangely disappearing everyone now and then, Rodney took to being by John’s side all the time. All the time.
He sat on the coffee table as John watched a game, singing ‘Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now’ at the top of his lungs.
He sang okay - he could carry a tune, knew they lyrics, and his voice wasn’t that bad. The song made John cringe, though.
“And we can build this dream together, standing strong forever, nothing’s gonna stop us now…”
“Watched Mannequin a lot in your younger days?” grinned John.
“Says the man who can place the song with the movie,” smirked Rodney, but he stopped after that.
Ten minutes later, “And if this world runs out of lovers, we’ll still have each other, nothing’s gonna stop, nothing’s gonna stop us noooow!”
John sighed.
*
They discovered Rodney could follow him anywhere he pleased during the second day, when John went to the supermarket and found him seated over a cart, balancing in a way no living person could’ve.
Rodney walked besides him all the while, criticizing everything from his alcohol consumption to his choice of vegetables - either John would die of cirrhosis in five year’s time or he’d die of pesticide poisoning in about twenty years.
He bought two bottles of sun screen just so he could shut Rodney up at something, but ended up without his favorite brand of coffee when Rodney claimed he was not going to allow instant coffee in his apartment.
(Rodney was, however, generous enough to let John buy his favorite brand of coffee, which was about 30 bucks more expensive. But worth it, he promised.)
It was during this little trip to the supermarket when they discovered only John could see Rodney… which of course meant that, whenever John talked to him, to the rest of the world it looked as if he was talking to thin air.
John could just see his fame building in the neighborhood: The Madman In The Sixth Floor.
It even made for a good b-movie title.
*
John cracked on the fourth day of having Rodney by his side 24/7.
He was watching Back To The Future part II, Rodney lying down on the coffee table, legs dangling out the edge. Sometimes he would criticize the movie and its ‘complete idiocy and lack of accuracy’. Sometimes he’d sing.
“Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted, blue since the day we parted, why, why did I ever let you go? Mamma mia, now I really know…”
John threw an empty beer can at him (which of course went right through Rodney) and went to the phone.
Rodney trailed after him, walking through chairs and walls. He was well accustomed now. “Who are you going to call?” he asked.
“The Ghostbusters,” deadpanned John, leaning on the counter and dialing a number.
“Very funny.” A pause. “You’re not, are you? Because there are lunatics out there who -”
“Don’t tempt me.” John looked absentmindedly at Rodney, who had stopped in front of John and was waiting with a vaguely nervous face to see who John was calling. The disturbing thing was that Rodney had stopped in the middle of the kitchen island and John could hear a foot tapping that was out of sight in the island’s cupboards. John thought Rodney might be enjoying the whole walking-through-stuff too much) “Teyla?”
Teyla sounded confused at hearing his voice. “John. Hello.” John winced a bit. He didn’t remember the last time he’d voluntarily called Teyla.
“Who’s Teyla?” asked Rodney.
John threw an annoyed look at him. “Shut up,” he hissed.
“Excuse me?” came Teyla’s voice.
“No, not you,” said John promptly. “Listen, you know the guy I told you about the other day?”
“Yes, your hallucination.” She sounded a bit too amused by this.
Rodney poked his head into the fridge and sighed. “I miss food,” he said.
“He can walk through stuff,” said John.
“Say that again,” said Teyla, her voice thoroughly not amused now.
“He can walk through stuff. I saw him walk through the couch, the kitchen island.” He looked at Rodney. “My bathroom door, today.”
Rodney’s head emerged from the pantry. “I said I was sorry about that!”
“And he is talking to you?” asked Teyla.
John sighed. “Rather too much.”
“This is very strange. I mean, I’m no expert but -”
“Teyla, you can sense this stuff,” said John, interrupting her. “Maybe you can sense his ass back to the afterlife.”
Teyla adopted that tone of voice of hers that reminded you of your mom. “That is not how it works.”
“He’s driving me insane, Teyla.”
Teyla sighed. “I will be right over.”
*
It took Teyla a good half hour to arrive, during which John busied himself by trying to make the apartment not look like a sty. Rodney trailed after him, trying to get out of John who this Teyla person was and what exactly was she going to do to him.
Rodney wolf-whistled when Teyla arrived, but it took only one look, one look from John to let him know Teyla was off limits the way your best bud’s sister or cousin was out of limits - it was The Rules. Rodney pouted for ten minutes, but it didn’t stop him from looking at her.
Teyla walked the apartment, carefully oblivious to the battle of glares going on behind her. The view from the bay windows was enough to distract anyone from anything, even a focused person like Teyla. The Bay Bridge was off in the far distance, thousands of blinking lights in between the bridge and them, going back and forth, up and down.
“Ronon was not joking when he talked about this apartment,” she commented, a little bit awe at the view.
“Thank you,” said Rodney kindly, as if Teyla could see or hear him.
John looked at Rodney over Teyla’s head. “It’s not like you built it. You didn’t even own it, you rented.”
Teyla rolled her eyes and looked at John. “I am going to take a wild guess and say he’s at my left,” she said.
John smiled. “What clued you in?”
“The fact that you probably don’t talk to every bookcase you come across?” said Rodney.
John pointed at him. “Stay out of this.”
Teyla waved a hand for them to go to the bay windows on the corner. “Tell me about him,” she said.
“Aren’t you the one supposed to be doing that?” he said, smiling as sweetly as he could muster at the moment.
“John.”
John sighed. “Right, right. Um.” He looked at Rodney. “He’s annoying, whiny. Paranoid. Smart, has blue eyes.”
Rodney crossed his arms. “You want my DNA profile, too?”
John looked at Teyla. “He can walk through walls and my fridge, but doesn’t fall off the floor. How’s that?”
“It’s gravity,” said Rodney, and John raised an arm to signal Teyla that Rodney was speaking. Teyla studied John’s reactions. “There’s no reason to think I am not subjected to gravity, too. There must be some sort of voluntary element to it, or I wouldn’t be able to stand on a sixth floor.” He frowned, looking at his feet. Then he started sinking through the floor.
John shot up before he remembered he couldn’t touch him. “Rodney!”
“Just a test,” he said as he climbed back to the floor as if it was the step in a ladder. “Good to know you care, though. And yes, voluntary element in it,” he said as he leaned smugly against the wall. John had never seen anyone making his body look smug.
John rolled his eyes and sat back down. He told Teyla everything Rodney had said and promptly shut up when she sat crossed legged and shushed him.
Rodney rolled his eyes at him as Teyla simply stayed were she was, silent and eyes closed. John shifted a bit in his seat, uncomfortable. Teyla had come up here and believed his every word he’d said, no questions asked. He knew Teyla, he knew she was loyal like that, but still John felt odd at having so much trust so willingly deposited on him.
“It feels very strange,” said Teyla after a while, uncrossing her legs and turning to him.
“Strange how?” asked John.
“I have felt presences like this before - somewhere between friendly and unfriendly, undecided where to go next…” John smirked at Rodney. Teyla paid them no mind. “I am trying to determine if he’s tricking you, or lying to you, there are some spirits like that, but -”
John grinned. “You mean if he’s evil?” Rodney could be a whiny bastard, but evil he was not.
“Did I forget to mention my second name is Voldemort?” said Rodney, bored at the whole thing.
John looked at him. “That’d be Marvolo. Get your kids’ literature correct.”
“Young adult!” said Rodney at the same time Teyla said, “Excuse me?”
John jabbed a thumb in Rodney’s direction. “Talking to him. Sorry.”
Teyla frowned. “You can communicate this easily with him?”
John stole a glance of Rodney and looked back at her. “I can see and hear him just as plainly as I see you.” A pause. “Sadly.”
“You crack me with your wit, Sheppard.”
Teyla sighed. “John, I cannot get much more out of this. He isn’t hostile, I can tell you that. Frankly, you are much darker than he is.”
John made a face that clearly transmitted how little he was getting of the whole thing. “Are you saying I am a danger to him?”
Rodney chuckled. “I like her,” he said.
Teyla shook her head. “Let me put it plainly. Layman’s terms, as they say. I see him as a light brown. Like the color of coffee with milk. You are black coffee. You are dark. I'm saying it’s high time you rid yourself of all,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “You have got to stop thinking about him.”
John looked at Rodney. “I could if he'd just leave!”
“I didn't mean Rodney,” said Teyla. “I meant Mitch.”
John went stiff. Mitch’s name had been unexpected.
Rodney’s glee was evident. He snapped his fingers once. “Oh, I get it. You were dumped!”
John stood up and got very close Rodney’s nose. “I wasn’t dumped, and it’s none of your business,” he said before leaving the room.
When John was gone, Teyla stood up and looked at the empty room she knew was looking back at her. “He was not dumped. Mitch died.”
*
The moon was high up in the sky when Rodney came up to the roof. It was shining brightly above his head, San Francisco in front of him twinkling with silver and golden lights.
John was in a corner of the roof, the blue-black light of the moon setting him off in quite a contrast against the lights of the city.
“Teyla left you a note,” he said, not quite knowing where to start. “Said she was sorry.”
John turned to look at him, leaning against the ledge. “She has nothing to be sorry about.”
Rodney leant against the opposite side. “Some would say I might, though.” John only looked at him. “Occasionally, I can be… brusque.” John chuckled. “Bad with people, arrogant.”
“Check, check, check.”
Rodney sighed. “I had no idea someone had died on you. I never would’ve … I’m bad with people, but I’m not an idiot. I am in fact very, very smart.”
John shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“What was his name?”
John sighed. “Mitch. And he was KIA,” he said, walking away from Rodney and back into the apartment.
Rodney didn’t follow, or at least John didn’t see him. He checked that Teyla was gone, changed into jogging gear and then left the apartment, going for a run to clear his mind.
He ran from the apartment, an easy and steady pace so he could be at it for a long time. He jogged towards the center, purposely thinking of Teyla’s trick of ‘think of a blank slate’ so he’d keep his mind blank. He didn’t want to think about Mitch, he didn’t want to think anymore and what he could’ve done or not done to save him.
He was tired of thinking, but he had no idea how to stop. How do you switch your brain off? When it’s too keyed to pay you any attention, when it’s on a roll and won’t stop no matter how much you know it’s not doing you any good.
He doubled back before he even consciously made the decision, picking up the pace every time the ‘blank slate’ trick didn’t work. He ended up at Lafayette Park in an all-out run, lungs and legs burning.
Rodney appeared besides him every now and then, looking winded up - for all the winded up someone who didn’t breathe could look - instigating him to stop, to go back and, you know, talk or something like it. He finally disappeared when John yelled at him that he wanted to be alone.
After an hour of going back and forth between Alta Plaza and Lafayette Park, John ended up in one of the park benches of the latter, recovering his breath as he stretched. His legs burnt to the point of trembling, the ups and downs between the two Parks having done a good number on him.
Rodney appeared after a while (John would have bet anything he’d been keeping an eye on him) and didn’t say anything, merely watching John in case he yelled at him again.
Feeling like an utter heel, John waved him over. Rodney sat down on the other end of the bench, uncharacteristically quiet.
“You’re the only one who can see me,” said Rodney, tone civil and measured. It looked like an effort.
“Yes,” said John, grabbing his right foot and stretching his quadriceps.
“And I need to find out who I am. I have no idea, except that I am very smart.”
John grinned slightly. “Okay.”
Rodney looked at him. “I am. And because I am very smart, I know you have two realities to deal with.” He waited till John was seated. “One - someone came into your life in a, um, rather unconventional way, and you need to help him.”
John chuckled. “Nicely phrased. Two?”
“You are alone in a park bench talking to yourself.”
John cleared his throat. “I think I like the first one.”
Rodney nodded. “Good choice. You’ll help me find out who I am.”
John waved a hand about - what did he have to lose? “Sure.” Besides his sanity, of course.
“Shake it,” said Rodney.
John frowned at him. “You can’t touch people.”
“Shake it.” Chin up, back straight - John decided he better not go against him this time.
He aligned his open hand with Rodney, both bringing their hands closer until they were touching - though it looked more like they had been fused together than anything else.
John grinned at their hands; it was the most peculiar feeling ever. Like only one side of his hand had gotten pins and needles.
John looked up, and discovered Rodney was mirroring his smile. “Can you feel that?”
Rodney nodded, his eyes still on their hands. “It’s a bit disconcerting. I can’t feel anything I go through, but I can feel you.”
John chuckled slightly. “Odd.”
***
The first step, of course, was asking around the building.
There were six floors, four apartments to each floor, which meant that John’s morning was going to be a rather boring one.
The first and second floors, the farthest away from Rodney’s apartment, provided no clue at all.
The third floor provided a deaf old lady who entertained them for about half an hour (but provided no clue) and a Mark Hamill look-alike who was more interested in John’s marital status rather than John’s questions.
Half of the fourth floor was unoccupied, the other half either didn’t know Rodney or were downright surprised that apartment had been occupied at all.
The sixth floor was empty save for John himself and a couple who had moved in only a week before.
The fifth floor gave them a woman. Tall and good looking, she was wearing an outfit worthy of putting Daisy Duke to shame.
Rodney thought she was the definition of vacuous blonde bimbo, and refused to look at her in fear that his IQ would drop from the sheer proximity.
“Hiiiii,” she said, trailing the ‘I’ in a way that made Rodney roll his eyes as he leaned on the wall besides her.
“Hi, I just moved to the apartment above yours,” said John.
“I know! I heard you,” said the blonde. “I’m Mara,” she said, extending a hand.
“John.” John shook hers reluctantly. “Listen, I was wondering if you knew anything about the previous tenant?”
“The prev - yes! Yes. He wasn’t very social, you know? He was rude.”
“I can believe that,” said John with a smile.
“Hey!” said Rodney. John ignored him.
“I saw him a couple of times in the elevator. Always on the phone, always doing something. He never looked happy.”
“Right,” said John. That told them Rodney had needed to relax while he’d been alive, but not where he’d worked or anything. “Well, tha -”
Mara got a hand to her mouth, “Oh! I almost forgot. I found his cat!” she said, and disappeared inside the apartment.
Rodney frowned and poked his head inside the wall and into Mara’s apartment. “My cat?”
Rodney got his head out of Mara’s wall and looked at John. “My cat! I remember my cat! Schrödinger!”
John turned to look at him. “Schrödinger. Seriously?”
Rodney crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I have named him Kitty? Or Garfield?” hissed Rodney.
“His cat,” Mara came back with a tabby that looked rather well-fed to have been without his owner for who knows how long. “I saw him with it once, I think he’d taken him to the vet.” She handed John the cat. “Might’ve been the only thing he liked in the world. Are you a friend of his?” she asked.
John looked at her as Schrödinger purred in John’s arms. “Of the cat?”
Rodney rolled his eyes.
Mara giggled, which prompted more eye-rolling from Rodney. “Of the guy! Silly.”
“Friend? Yes, yes. I’m a friend. I’m staying in his apartment.” He started siding towards the stairs. “Um, thanks for taking care of his cat.”
Mara smiled. “Oh, it’s okay. Hey -” she pointed inside an apartment. “I know how this sounds, and it’s so totally not that. But I have this stuck window in the kitchen… would you mind helping me?”
Rodney, who had already been heading for the stairs, turned back to look at Mara. “Oh, that is - come on!”
John tried his best to ignore him. “Oh, I’m, you know. Busy. Plus, I have to feed the cat.”
Mara smiled. “He just ate.”
“He needs his medication,” said John. Rodney snorted.
“Okay. I’ll see you around,” she said, and waved happily.
John nodded curtly. “I’m sure.”
“He can see me!” said Rodney brightly as they took the stairs. “Schrödinger can see me!”
It was true. Schrödinger might have been purring happily in John’s arms, but he hadn’t taken his eyes of Rodney ever since Mara had brought him out.
John shrugged, making a mental note to buy cat food. “Well, they do say cats and dogs can see stuff we don’t.”
“I’m proof unequivocal now. Ha!” he smiled brightly. “How cool is that, I just confirmed a theory that has been going around for millennia.”
“Yes, Rodney,” he said, balancing the cat in one hand and getting the keys out with the other, “you alone and with no help at all.”
Rodney’s face screwed up in thought. “The thing is you can see me, too. So what does that mean?” He snapped his fingers. “Maybe you’re part cat!”
“What?!”
“Well, you do have pointy ears,” he said, running a finger through John’s ear. “And that vapid blonde downstairs, she -”
John closed the door in Rodney’s nose before he could hear him anymore.
*
“Won’t your friends think you’re insane,” said Rodney hours later as John rummaged a closet in the hallway, “talking to a guy who’s not there?”
“You are there. And Ronon and Teyla have known for years I’m insane,” said John brightly, head stuck in a box that seemed to contain only movie theater tickets from three years back. “Why would you keep this?” he asked.
Rodney peered over John’s shoulder. “They’re three years old. Maybe I wasn’t here then. Maybe it’s the owner’s.”
John waved a hand in Rodney’s direction. “Good point,” he said, and threw the box back in the closet.
Rodney sunk to the floor besides John, Schrödinger still sniffing the air around him. He’d taken to stick to Rodney ever since John had brought him back home, thoroughly curious to the fact that his owner wasn’t solid now. He walked through Rodney (a new favorite game of his, he’d been doing it all day) and proceeded to lie down between the two men, purring happily.
Rodney turned his head to see John kneeling on the floor, half his body stuck in the closet as he rummaged boxes. He ogled openly as John pulled from a heavy box, accidentally wiggling his butt in the process.
“What are you trying to do, anyway?” he asked.
“Find something that belonged to you,” he said, bringing the box closer to himself. “Something that might give me a clue as to where the hell you may be right now.”
Rodney snorted. “Good luck with that.”
John opened the box only to find several high-heeled women’s shoes. John frowned.
“Those aren’t mine,” Rodney hurried to say.
John snorted as an involuntarily image appeared in his mind. “No shit, Sherlock. Whoever cleaned your apartment after you…” he stuttered, “whatever, whoever they are, they did a nice job.”
“Maybe I have kids,” said Rodney.
John shook his head. “You don’t look old enough to have grown kids.” And then he added, troubled, “and I’d like to think a father wouldn’t forget his kids.”
Rodney nodded. “Maybe I don’t have kids. A niece or a nephew!” He pointed towards the kitchen. “I’m an uncle, there’s a mug which says so!”
John’s cheer reeked of sarcasm. “Right! We just have to ask the two hundred thousand toddlers that live in San Francisco.”
Rodney cleared his throat. “Give or take.”
John continued to turn the apartment upside down. He checked under things, inside things, behind things that hadn’t been moved in too long a time (such as the fridge, for example, or the bed). Dust bunnies emerged, some forgotten newspapers, grease and grime John manfully ignored, but nothing on Rodney. Nothing important had been forgotten.
John sat back on his heels as he finished pushing the chest of drawers back into place again, trying to recover breath. Had he not been living with Rodney for the past few days, he would have started doubting the guy’s existence.
John sighed. Rodney had disappeared a while back, probably disheartened by the lack of evidence of his existence. Sure, they’d found a stray pair of socks, an old pair of pants Schrödinger had evidently chewed on and that were beyond hope of anything… But nothing to tell the world who Rodney had been, what kind of person, what he loved and what he hated.
Not remembering a thing probably sucked big time.
John found him up in the roof, looking up to the sky, head bent in an almost impossible degree.
“Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to startle him - and then instantly felt stupid for it. What could he do, scare him off the ledge? Make his heart go faster?
Rodney turned to him, hands in pockets, shoulders down, face unnaturally grim. “Hey,” he said, looking at John for a second and then going back to look up.
“What are you doing?”
Rodney shrugged. “I don’t know. I keep wanting to look up. To look at the sky.”
The view of the city was amazing, but not so much if you wanted to look at the stars. The many-colored glare of the city obscured them almost completely. “Yeah? Not much to look at with the city lights.”
Rodney nodded. “I know. But I like looking at the stars anyway,” he said, as if he didn’t understand it himself. He probably didn’t, John wondered.
John sighed. Rodney had almost driven him deaf the past few days, with everything he talked about and criticized. Once he’d gotten into the game of ‘let’s find out who Rodney was and/or is’ Rodney had drilled John like the best CO’s he’d had during his life, telling him to dig deeper, ask more, search better.
John should’ve welcomed the silence, but it only unnerved him so. “Come with me,” he said, nodding his head towards the roof door.
Rodney looked at him. “Why?”
“Just come with me,” said John, walking to the stairs, barely checking to see if Rodney was following.
Rodney didn’t follow. He simply appeared at the foot of the stairs, frowning deeply at John. “Where are you taking me? Why?”
John grabbed his coat and keys and looked at Rodney. “This paranoia stems for the fear that I could do exactly what to you? I can’t even touch you.”
Rodney nodded. “Good point,” he said, and followed John out.
*
On to part 3
Heaven Is A Place On Earth, 2/6
***
Rodney didn’t leave.
Instead of strangely disappearing everyone now and then, Rodney took to being by John’s side all the time. All the time.
He sat on the coffee table as John watched a game, singing ‘Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now’ at the top of his lungs.
He sang okay - he could carry a tune, knew they lyrics, and his voice wasn’t that bad. The song made John cringe, though.
“And we can build this dream together, standing strong forever, nothing’s gonna stop us now…”
“Watched Mannequin a lot in your younger days?” grinned John.
“Says the man who can place the song with the movie,” smirked Rodney, but he stopped after that.
Ten minutes later, “And if this world runs out of lovers, we’ll still have each other, nothing’s gonna stop, nothing’s gonna stop us noooow!”
John sighed.
*
They discovered Rodney could follow him anywhere he pleased during the second day, when John went to the supermarket and found him seated over a cart, balancing in a way no living person could’ve.
Rodney walked besides him all the while, criticizing everything from his alcohol consumption to his choice of vegetables - either John would die of cirrhosis in five year’s time or he’d die of pesticide poisoning in about twenty years.
He bought two bottles of sun screen just so he could shut Rodney up at something, but ended up without his favorite brand of coffee when Rodney claimed he was not going to allow instant coffee in his apartment.
(Rodney was, however, generous enough to let John buy his favorite brand of coffee, which was about 30 bucks more expensive. But worth it, he promised.)
It was during this little trip to the supermarket when they discovered only John could see Rodney… which of course meant that, whenever John talked to him, to the rest of the world it looked as if he was talking to thin air.
John could just see his fame building in the neighborhood: The Madman In The Sixth Floor.
It even made for a good b-movie title.
*
John cracked on the fourth day of having Rodney by his side 24/7.
He was watching Back To The Future part II, Rodney lying down on the coffee table, legs dangling out the edge. Sometimes he would criticize the movie and its ‘complete idiocy and lack of accuracy’. Sometimes he’d sing.
“Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted, blue since the day we parted, why, why did I ever let you go? Mamma mia, now I really know…”
John threw an empty beer can at him (which of course went right through Rodney) and went to the phone.
Rodney trailed after him, walking through chairs and walls. He was well accustomed now. “Who are you going to call?” he asked.
“The Ghostbusters,” deadpanned John, leaning on the counter and dialing a number.
“Very funny.” A pause. “You’re not, are you? Because there are lunatics out there who -”
“Don’t tempt me.” John looked absentmindedly at Rodney, who had stopped in front of John and was waiting with a vaguely nervous face to see who John was calling. The disturbing thing was that Rodney had stopped in the middle of the kitchen island and John could hear a foot tapping that was out of sight in the island’s cupboards. John thought Rodney might be enjoying the whole walking-through-stuff too much) “Teyla?”
Teyla sounded confused at hearing his voice. “John. Hello.” John winced a bit. He didn’t remember the last time he’d voluntarily called Teyla.
“Who’s Teyla?” asked Rodney.
John threw an annoyed look at him. “Shut up,” he hissed.
“Excuse me?” came Teyla’s voice.
“No, not you,” said John promptly. “Listen, you know the guy I told you about the other day?”
“Yes, your hallucination.” She sounded a bit too amused by this.
Rodney poked his head into the fridge and sighed. “I miss food,” he said.
“He can walk through stuff,” said John.
“Say that again,” said Teyla, her voice thoroughly not amused now.
“He can walk through stuff. I saw him walk through the couch, the kitchen island.” He looked at Rodney. “My bathroom door, today.”
Rodney’s head emerged from the pantry. “I said I was sorry about that!”
“And he is talking to you?” asked Teyla.
John sighed. “Rather too much.”
“This is very strange. I mean, I’m no expert but -”
“Teyla, you can sense this stuff,” said John, interrupting her. “Maybe you can sense his ass back to the afterlife.”
Teyla adopted that tone of voice of hers that reminded you of your mom. “That is not how it works.”
“He’s driving me insane, Teyla.”
Teyla sighed. “I will be right over.”
*
It took Teyla a good half hour to arrive, during which John busied himself by trying to make the apartment not look like a sty. Rodney trailed after him, trying to get out of John who this Teyla person was and what exactly was she going to do to him.
Rodney wolf-whistled when Teyla arrived, but it took only one look, one look from John to let him know Teyla was off limits the way your best bud’s sister or cousin was out of limits - it was The Rules. Rodney pouted for ten minutes, but it didn’t stop him from looking at her.
Teyla walked the apartment, carefully oblivious to the battle of glares going on behind her. The view from the bay windows was enough to distract anyone from anything, even a focused person like Teyla. The Bay Bridge was off in the far distance, thousands of blinking lights in between the bridge and them, going back and forth, up and down.
“Ronon was not joking when he talked about this apartment,” she commented, a little bit awe at the view.
“Thank you,” said Rodney kindly, as if Teyla could see or hear him.
John looked at Rodney over Teyla’s head. “It’s not like you built it. You didn’t even own it, you rented.”
Teyla rolled her eyes and looked at John. “I am going to take a wild guess and say he’s at my left,” she said.
John smiled. “What clued you in?”
“The fact that you probably don’t talk to every bookcase you come across?” said Rodney.
John pointed at him. “Stay out of this.”
Teyla waved a hand for them to go to the bay windows on the corner. “Tell me about him,” she said.
“Aren’t you the one supposed to be doing that?” he said, smiling as sweetly as he could muster at the moment.
“John.”
John sighed. “Right, right. Um.” He looked at Rodney. “He’s annoying, whiny. Paranoid. Smart, has blue eyes.”
Rodney crossed his arms. “You want my DNA profile, too?”
John looked at Teyla. “He can walk through walls and my fridge, but doesn’t fall off the floor. How’s that?”
“It’s gravity,” said Rodney, and John raised an arm to signal Teyla that Rodney was speaking. Teyla studied John’s reactions. “There’s no reason to think I am not subjected to gravity, too. There must be some sort of voluntary element to it, or I wouldn’t be able to stand on a sixth floor.” He frowned, looking at his feet. Then he started sinking through the floor.
John shot up before he remembered he couldn’t touch him. “Rodney!”
“Just a test,” he said as he climbed back to the floor as if it was the step in a ladder. “Good to know you care, though. And yes, voluntary element in it,” he said as he leaned smugly against the wall. John had never seen anyone making his body look smug.
John rolled his eyes and sat back down. He told Teyla everything Rodney had said and promptly shut up when she sat crossed legged and shushed him.
Rodney rolled his eyes at him as Teyla simply stayed were she was, silent and eyes closed. John shifted a bit in his seat, uncomfortable. Teyla had come up here and believed his every word he’d said, no questions asked. He knew Teyla, he knew she was loyal like that, but still John felt odd at having so much trust so willingly deposited on him.
“It feels very strange,” said Teyla after a while, uncrossing her legs and turning to him.
“Strange how?” asked John.
“I have felt presences like this before - somewhere between friendly and unfriendly, undecided where to go next…” John smirked at Rodney. Teyla paid them no mind. “I am trying to determine if he’s tricking you, or lying to you, there are some spirits like that, but -”
John grinned. “You mean if he’s evil?” Rodney could be a whiny bastard, but evil he was not.
“Did I forget to mention my second name is Voldemort?” said Rodney, bored at the whole thing.
John looked at him. “That’d be Marvolo. Get your kids’ literature correct.”
“Young adult!” said Rodney at the same time Teyla said, “Excuse me?”
John jabbed a thumb in Rodney’s direction. “Talking to him. Sorry.”
Teyla frowned. “You can communicate this easily with him?”
John stole a glance of Rodney and looked back at her. “I can see and hear him just as plainly as I see you.” A pause. “Sadly.”
“You crack me with your wit, Sheppard.”
Teyla sighed. “John, I cannot get much more out of this. He isn’t hostile, I can tell you that. Frankly, you are much darker than he is.”
John made a face that clearly transmitted how little he was getting of the whole thing. “Are you saying I am a danger to him?”
Rodney chuckled. “I like her,” he said.
Teyla shook her head. “Let me put it plainly. Layman’s terms, as they say. I see him as a light brown. Like the color of coffee with milk. You are black coffee. You are dark. I'm saying it’s high time you rid yourself of all,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “You have got to stop thinking about him.”
John looked at Rodney. “I could if he'd just leave!”
“I didn't mean Rodney,” said Teyla. “I meant Mitch.”
John went stiff. Mitch’s name had been unexpected.
Rodney’s glee was evident. He snapped his fingers once. “Oh, I get it. You were dumped!”
John stood up and got very close Rodney’s nose. “I wasn’t dumped, and it’s none of your business,” he said before leaving the room.
When John was gone, Teyla stood up and looked at the empty room she knew was looking back at her. “He was not dumped. Mitch died.”
*
The moon was high up in the sky when Rodney came up to the roof. It was shining brightly above his head, San Francisco in front of him twinkling with silver and golden lights.
John was in a corner of the roof, the blue-black light of the moon setting him off in quite a contrast against the lights of the city.
“Teyla left you a note,” he said, not quite knowing where to start. “Said she was sorry.”
John turned to look at him, leaning against the ledge. “She has nothing to be sorry about.”
Rodney leant against the opposite side. “Some would say I might, though.” John only looked at him. “Occasionally, I can be… brusque.” John chuckled. “Bad with people, arrogant.”
“Check, check, check.”
Rodney sighed. “I had no idea someone had died on you. I never would’ve … I’m bad with people, but I’m not an idiot. I am in fact very, very smart.”
John shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“What was his name?”
John sighed. “Mitch. And he was KIA,” he said, walking away from Rodney and back into the apartment.
Rodney didn’t follow, or at least John didn’t see him. He checked that Teyla was gone, changed into jogging gear and then left the apartment, going for a run to clear his mind.
He ran from the apartment, an easy and steady pace so he could be at it for a long time. He jogged towards the center, purposely thinking of Teyla’s trick of ‘think of a blank slate’ so he’d keep his mind blank. He didn’t want to think about Mitch, he didn’t want to think anymore and what he could’ve done or not done to save him.
He was tired of thinking, but he had no idea how to stop. How do you switch your brain off? When it’s too keyed to pay you any attention, when it’s on a roll and won’t stop no matter how much you know it’s not doing you any good.
He doubled back before he even consciously made the decision, picking up the pace every time the ‘blank slate’ trick didn’t work. He ended up at Lafayette Park in an all-out run, lungs and legs burning.
Rodney appeared besides him every now and then, looking winded up - for all the winded up someone who didn’t breathe could look - instigating him to stop, to go back and, you know, talk or something like it. He finally disappeared when John yelled at him that he wanted to be alone.
After an hour of going back and forth between Alta Plaza and Lafayette Park, John ended up in one of the park benches of the latter, recovering his breath as he stretched. His legs burnt to the point of trembling, the ups and downs between the two Parks having done a good number on him.
Rodney appeared after a while (John would have bet anything he’d been keeping an eye on him) and didn’t say anything, merely watching John in case he yelled at him again.
Feeling like an utter heel, John waved him over. Rodney sat down on the other end of the bench, uncharacteristically quiet.
“You’re the only one who can see me,” said Rodney, tone civil and measured. It looked like an effort.
“Yes,” said John, grabbing his right foot and stretching his quadriceps.
“And I need to find out who I am. I have no idea, except that I am very smart.”
John grinned slightly. “Okay.”
Rodney looked at him. “I am. And because I am very smart, I know you have two realities to deal with.” He waited till John was seated. “One - someone came into your life in a, um, rather unconventional way, and you need to help him.”
John chuckled. “Nicely phrased. Two?”
“You are alone in a park bench talking to yourself.”
John cleared his throat. “I think I like the first one.”
Rodney nodded. “Good choice. You’ll help me find out who I am.”
John waved a hand about - what did he have to lose? “Sure.” Besides his sanity, of course.
“Shake it,” said Rodney.
John frowned at him. “You can’t touch people.”
“Shake it.” Chin up, back straight - John decided he better not go against him this time.
He aligned his open hand with Rodney, both bringing their hands closer until they were touching - though it looked more like they had been fused together than anything else.
John grinned at their hands; it was the most peculiar feeling ever. Like only one side of his hand had gotten pins and needles.
John looked up, and discovered Rodney was mirroring his smile. “Can you feel that?”
Rodney nodded, his eyes still on their hands. “It’s a bit disconcerting. I can’t feel anything I go through, but I can feel you.”
John chuckled slightly. “Odd.”
***
The first step, of course, was asking around the building.
There were six floors, four apartments to each floor, which meant that John’s morning was going to be a rather boring one.
The first and second floors, the farthest away from Rodney’s apartment, provided no clue at all.
The third floor provided a deaf old lady who entertained them for about half an hour (but provided no clue) and a Mark Hamill look-alike who was more interested in John’s marital status rather than John’s questions.
Half of the fourth floor was unoccupied, the other half either didn’t know Rodney or were downright surprised that apartment had been occupied at all.
The sixth floor was empty save for John himself and a couple who had moved in only a week before.
The fifth floor gave them a woman. Tall and good looking, she was wearing an outfit worthy of putting Daisy Duke to shame.
Rodney thought she was the definition of vacuous blonde bimbo, and refused to look at her in fear that his IQ would drop from the sheer proximity.
“Hiiiii,” she said, trailing the ‘I’ in a way that made Rodney roll his eyes as he leaned on the wall besides her.
“Hi, I just moved to the apartment above yours,” said John.
“I know! I heard you,” said the blonde. “I’m Mara,” she said, extending a hand.
“John.” John shook hers reluctantly. “Listen, I was wondering if you knew anything about the previous tenant?”
“The prev - yes! Yes. He wasn’t very social, you know? He was rude.”
“I can believe that,” said John with a smile.
“Hey!” said Rodney. John ignored him.
“I saw him a couple of times in the elevator. Always on the phone, always doing something. He never looked happy.”
“Right,” said John. That told them Rodney had needed to relax while he’d been alive, but not where he’d worked or anything. “Well, tha -”
Mara got a hand to her mouth, “Oh! I almost forgot. I found his cat!” she said, and disappeared inside the apartment.
Rodney frowned and poked his head inside the wall and into Mara’s apartment. “My cat?”
Rodney got his head out of Mara’s wall and looked at John. “My cat! I remember my cat! Schrödinger!”
John turned to look at him. “Schrödinger. Seriously?”
Rodney crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I have named him Kitty? Or Garfield?” hissed Rodney.
“His cat,” Mara came back with a tabby that looked rather well-fed to have been without his owner for who knows how long. “I saw him with it once, I think he’d taken him to the vet.” She handed John the cat. “Might’ve been the only thing he liked in the world. Are you a friend of his?” she asked.
John looked at her as Schrödinger purred in John’s arms. “Of the cat?”
Rodney rolled his eyes.
Mara giggled, which prompted more eye-rolling from Rodney. “Of the guy! Silly.”
“Friend? Yes, yes. I’m a friend. I’m staying in his apartment.” He started siding towards the stairs. “Um, thanks for taking care of his cat.”
Mara smiled. “Oh, it’s okay. Hey -” she pointed inside an apartment. “I know how this sounds, and it’s so totally not that. But I have this stuck window in the kitchen… would you mind helping me?”
Rodney, who had already been heading for the stairs, turned back to look at Mara. “Oh, that is - come on!”
John tried his best to ignore him. “Oh, I’m, you know. Busy. Plus, I have to feed the cat.”
Mara smiled. “He just ate.”
“He needs his medication,” said John. Rodney snorted.
“Okay. I’ll see you around,” she said, and waved happily.
John nodded curtly. “I’m sure.”
“He can see me!” said Rodney brightly as they took the stairs. “Schrödinger can see me!”
It was true. Schrödinger might have been purring happily in John’s arms, but he hadn’t taken his eyes of Rodney ever since Mara had brought him out.
John shrugged, making a mental note to buy cat food. “Well, they do say cats and dogs can see stuff we don’t.”
“I’m proof unequivocal now. Ha!” he smiled brightly. “How cool is that, I just confirmed a theory that has been going around for millennia.”
“Yes, Rodney,” he said, balancing the cat in one hand and getting the keys out with the other, “you alone and with no help at all.”
Rodney’s face screwed up in thought. “The thing is you can see me, too. So what does that mean?” He snapped his fingers. “Maybe you’re part cat!”
“What?!”
“Well, you do have pointy ears,” he said, running a finger through John’s ear. “And that vapid blonde downstairs, she -”
John closed the door in Rodney’s nose before he could hear him anymore.
*
“Won’t your friends think you’re insane,” said Rodney hours later as John rummaged a closet in the hallway, “talking to a guy who’s not there?”
“You are there. And Ronon and Teyla have known for years I’m insane,” said John brightly, head stuck in a box that seemed to contain only movie theater tickets from three years back. “Why would you keep this?” he asked.
Rodney peered over John’s shoulder. “They’re three years old. Maybe I wasn’t here then. Maybe it’s the owner’s.”
John waved a hand in Rodney’s direction. “Good point,” he said, and threw the box back in the closet.
Rodney sunk to the floor besides John, Schrödinger still sniffing the air around him. He’d taken to stick to Rodney ever since John had brought him back home, thoroughly curious to the fact that his owner wasn’t solid now. He walked through Rodney (a new favorite game of his, he’d been doing it all day) and proceeded to lie down between the two men, purring happily.
Rodney turned his head to see John kneeling on the floor, half his body stuck in the closet as he rummaged boxes. He ogled openly as John pulled from a heavy box, accidentally wiggling his butt in the process.
“What are you trying to do, anyway?” he asked.
“Find something that belonged to you,” he said, bringing the box closer to himself. “Something that might give me a clue as to where the hell you may be right now.”
Rodney snorted. “Good luck with that.”
John opened the box only to find several high-heeled women’s shoes. John frowned.
“Those aren’t mine,” Rodney hurried to say.
John snorted as an involuntarily image appeared in his mind. “No shit, Sherlock. Whoever cleaned your apartment after you…” he stuttered, “whatever, whoever they are, they did a nice job.”
“Maybe I have kids,” said Rodney.
John shook his head. “You don’t look old enough to have grown kids.” And then he added, troubled, “and I’d like to think a father wouldn’t forget his kids.”
Rodney nodded. “Maybe I don’t have kids. A niece or a nephew!” He pointed towards the kitchen. “I’m an uncle, there’s a mug which says so!”
John’s cheer reeked of sarcasm. “Right! We just have to ask the two hundred thousand toddlers that live in San Francisco.”
Rodney cleared his throat. “Give or take.”
John continued to turn the apartment upside down. He checked under things, inside things, behind things that hadn’t been moved in too long a time (such as the fridge, for example, or the bed). Dust bunnies emerged, some forgotten newspapers, grease and grime John manfully ignored, but nothing on Rodney. Nothing important had been forgotten.
John sat back on his heels as he finished pushing the chest of drawers back into place again, trying to recover breath. Had he not been living with Rodney for the past few days, he would have started doubting the guy’s existence.
John sighed. Rodney had disappeared a while back, probably disheartened by the lack of evidence of his existence. Sure, they’d found a stray pair of socks, an old pair of pants Schrödinger had evidently chewed on and that were beyond hope of anything… But nothing to tell the world who Rodney had been, what kind of person, what he loved and what he hated.
Not remembering a thing probably sucked big time.
John found him up in the roof, looking up to the sky, head bent in an almost impossible degree.
“Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to startle him - and then instantly felt stupid for it. What could he do, scare him off the ledge? Make his heart go faster?
Rodney turned to him, hands in pockets, shoulders down, face unnaturally grim. “Hey,” he said, looking at John for a second and then going back to look up.
“What are you doing?”
Rodney shrugged. “I don’t know. I keep wanting to look up. To look at the sky.”
The view of the city was amazing, but not so much if you wanted to look at the stars. The many-colored glare of the city obscured them almost completely. “Yeah? Not much to look at with the city lights.”
Rodney nodded. “I know. But I like looking at the stars anyway,” he said, as if he didn’t understand it himself. He probably didn’t, John wondered.
John sighed. Rodney had almost driven him deaf the past few days, with everything he talked about and criticized. Once he’d gotten into the game of ‘let’s find out who Rodney was and/or is’ Rodney had drilled John like the best CO’s he’d had during his life, telling him to dig deeper, ask more, search better.
John should’ve welcomed the silence, but it only unnerved him so. “Come with me,” he said, nodding his head towards the roof door.
Rodney looked at him. “Why?”
“Just come with me,” said John, walking to the stairs, barely checking to see if Rodney was following.
Rodney didn’t follow. He simply appeared at the foot of the stairs, frowning deeply at John. “Where are you taking me? Why?”
John grabbed his coat and keys and looked at Rodney. “This paranoia stems for the fear that I could do exactly what to you? I can’t even touch you.”
Rodney nodded. “Good point,” he said, and followed John out.
*
On to part 3