SGA/DLM: Dead Like Them (R), McKay/Sheppard.
He glanced up, feeling like someone was walking over his grave, and locked eyes with a man across the street.
-- Co-written with the lovely and talented forcryinoutloud.
They were serving lemon chicken in the little lunchroom again, just to spite him.
Rodney grabbed his coat and called them all jealous imbeciles that wanted him dead, and then went out the door, slamming it shut behind him. As last words went, he figured his weren't that bad and at least they had the benefit of being true.
Maybe it wasn't anything inspiring or brilliant, but he was inspiring and brilliant all the rest of the time in all of his too short life, so they would always have that to remember him by.
He got a coffee and a bagel from the Starbucks on the corner and then wandered back out into the street. He sat on the bench in front of his lab, not ready to face his annoying colleagues, and then just watched all the stupid people go by as he pondered Atlantis' Labs newest acquisition; a missile drone from a secret research site somewhere in Antarctica.
He was brought out of his thoughts when someone sat beside him, and he rolled his eyes, because that was the last thing he needed. He didn't do that whole small talk with strangers thing, but from his estimate, about 87.3% of the population did, and it was a good bet this one would be a talker.
"Are you Rodney McKay?" the man asked. He was an older man, and balding, but Rodney recognized from his eyes that he wasn't a complete imbecile, so didn't completely blow him off.
"Dr. Rodney McKay," Rodney corrected, rather huffily. "Who the hell are you?"
"That's not important," the man said kindly, before reaching out and patting his leg. It tingled strangely, and Rodney rubbed at the spot he'd touched in irritation, barely noticing as the man slipped away again.
He set his coffee and bagel aside, feeling strangely disconnected and off balance. He glanced up; feeling like someone was walking over his grave, and locked eyes with a man across the street. He was standing on the edge of the curb, wearing a blue track jacket and sneakers, with his hands in his pockets, and he was probably the most effortlessly attractive person Rodney had seen even this close.
He didn't know he was staring until the man threw him a dorky wave and a big grin, and the next instant he was gasping for breath three feet from where he'd been, looking at the smoking mass that had been his body. An organic like missile was sticking out of his back, losing the last of its flickering glow. He recognized it easily, and when his eyes turned to the lab, he saw the front window had been blown completely apart.
"Oh, god," Rodney said. "Oh god. I'm hallucinating. I must be--what the hell was in that coffee?"
Rodney glanced back toward his body. The gorgeous guy that had waved at him had crossed the street, and was holding Rodney's coffee and taking a sip, looking down at the smoking corpse with a frown. People were running around like the morons they were, obviously unable to figure out what to do. He didn't see one person take out a cell phone to call 911, the idiots.
"The coffee's great," the cute guy said, apparently looking right at him. "You're just feeling a little weird because you're dead."
"I'm not dead," Rodney denied instantly. "I'm too brilliant to be dead!"
"Huh," the man said. "That's a new one. I haven't heard that one before." He stepped over the body and out of the way of the gathering crowd effortlessly, and then stopped beside Rodney.
"I'm not, I can't be," Rodney told him, before pointing at him in accusation. "What is this? If I'm dead, then how am I talking to you? Ha! Explain that!"
"You're talking to me because I'm a grim reaper," the guy said, and flashed him another toothpaste ad grin.
"You are not a grim reaper," Rodney snapped. "You're way too pretty."
"Flattery won't get your life back," he said, charmingly, before swinging an arm around his shoulders and steering him away from his body. "I don't think we've been properly introduced, I'm John."
"Dr. Rodney McKay," Rodney snapped. "I demand to see your supervisor."
"Jack? Jack's a little busy," John said. "He's having trouble with Daniel again; he keeps trying to save people; which means you’re my responsibility."
Rodney glanced back again. Radek, Peter and Carson had run out and were standing around his body looking shell shocked and pale. Peter had to hold Miko back, as she screamed his name hysterically through her tears.
"You don't need to watch this," John told him softly.
Rodney just nodded, and let John continue to lead him away. His silence, however, didn't last long.
"Where are you taking me?" he demanded. "Shouldn't I be moving into a light or something?"
"We're going to pick up my laundry," John told him.
"Are you fucking with me?" Rodney snapped.
John grinned at him again. He seemed to do that a lot, and Rodney didn't like the way it distracted him. He was dead for Christ's sake, and still being ruled by hormones. "Hey, calm down," John told him. "We're just killing time until your funeral."
"My funeral?" Rodney asked, suddenly inexplicably delighted. "I get to go?"
"Got you front row seats," John told him.
"It's probably not going to be for days, though," he said, frowning. "I'm sure they're going to need time to plan something spectacular enough to honor my genius. What am I supposed to do until then?"
"You can go haunt people if you want," John said. "That's always fun, and honestly, I can't really do anything with you when you're like this. It’s so disconcerting interacting with the dead. It's like hanging out with Casper or something, I never liked it."
Rodney glared at him. "Well, aren't you dead?" he demanded.
John shook his head. "I'm undead, which means I get to do pretty much whatever I want, so long as I nab a few souls every once and awhile."
"Charming," Rodney hissed.
"Don't worry," John told him. "Time passes differently when you're dead. They'll be having your funeral in no time."
John waved at him again, earning a few strange looks from people passing by that couldn't see who he was waving at, and then slid into the Dry Cleaners to pick up his laundry.
-----
Rodney scowled as John snatched another--Jesus was that lemon?--tart from the table in front of them. "Couldn't you wait until after the service?" Rodney hissed. "And aren't you dead--undead--whatever...do you even need to eat?" He watched as John popped the tart into his mouth with a cocky smirk and raised eyebrow.
"There's nothing wrong with enjoying fine cuisine," John grinned.
Rodney snorted. "Well it's obvious your taste buds are dead."
John shrugged as he reached for a glass of champagne. "You know, this is pretty swanky. They've really gone all out for you."
"Yes, well--it's only logical. I am the smartest man alive."
"Were," John said absently, scanning the room, grinning when he saw the rest of the gang wandering in. Ronon headed straight for them, eyes on the table of food; Daniel looked solemn in his beautifully tailored black suit; Jack sauntered beside Daniel, his suit just as pristine as Daniel's but with an amused smirk on his face as they stopped in front of John and Rodney. "Guys," John nodded.
Rodney had been searching the room, apparently looking for some scientist named Sam something or other that he told John would be devastated by his death; she was after all head over heels in love with him. He pulled his gaze from the room at large though at John's voice, frowning as he took in the three strangers before them. He leaned closer to John, whispering from the side of his mouth, "Can they see us?"
Jack rolled his eyes, scanning the table with a sigh. "What, no beer?"
Daniel held out his hand to Rodney, smiling brightly. "My name is Daniel--and yes, we can see you."
"Are you dead too?" Rodney snapped, staring at the outstretched hand before narrowing his eyes at the large, hairy man, currently stuffing two lemon tarts in his mouth and four in the pocket of his long black trench coat.
Jack stuffed his hands in his suit pockets, looking pointedly at John. "How much did you tell him?"
"Not much," John shrugged. "That's your job," he grinned, rocking on the balls of his feet.
"Hey, dead guy here--care to fill me in?" Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, mouth pulled down in a crooked line.
"Oh look, the shows about to start," Jack said, pointing towards the front of the room where Elizabeth was stepping up to the podium.
Rodney's crooked frown turned into a crooked, and smug, grin. "Ah, Elizabeth--"
"She's hot," Ronon's low voice sounded behind them.
Rodney waved a hand, shushing him. "Shut up--I want to hear how devastated they all are by my untimely--and completely unfair death." He threw a glare at John as if it was John's fault he was dead before returning his eyes to the front of the room.
The scientists that had been thus far milling about the room in various groups, talking quietly amongst themselves, all moved forwards to take their seats as Elizabeth began to speak. "We're all here to pay our respects to our late colleague, Rodney McKay."
"Doctor," Rodney shouted, his grin souring.
"Ssh," John said in his ear, grinning when Rodney huffed indignantly.
Elizabeth went on to talk about Rodney's contributions to the lab, the accomplishments he had achieved in his life, all with Rodney clarifying loudly to the room at large (despite the fact John had told him no one could hear or see them) whenever Elizabeth got something wrong (which was happening far too much for Rodney's liking) or when she left some vital contribution he'd made out (also happening too often). All in all Rodney was very disappointed with the speech. "She should have prepared more--made cue cards or something," he grumbled. "She didn't come close to expressing the true scope of what a genius I really am."
"Were," John grinned.
When Elizabeth opened the floor to anyone who would like to say a few words about Rodney, he turned to John with a triumphant grin. "Now we'll see devastation."
Rodney's eyes were huge, his mouth falling open a little more with each person that spoke and John tried very hard not to laugh. So far, Simpson, Gaul, and someone named Kavanagh had all stood to speak.
Simpson had said she was sorry McKay had died but that his death was just like the man; loud-the rest of her words were drowned out by Rodney's angry squawk of protest.
Gaul had said he didn't think he would ever meet another man whose girlish fear when it came to such innocuous things as bugs and lemon chicken could surpass Rodney McKay's. Rodney had begun waving his hands, yelling about allergies and death and other less coherent things and John was sure Rodney's eyes were going to bug right out of his head, but then Kavanagh had gotten up to speak.
When he announced to the room that with the passing of McKay, his own brilliance would no longer be ignored, John had to literally hold Rodney back as he tried to lunge for the man. "Have you forgotten your current state of death, McKay?" John managed to wheeze, his arm tightening around Rodney's waist, as he tried not to burst out laughing.
Behind them Daniel's eyes were wide in shock, Jack was smirking and shaking his head and Ronon was chuckling to himself as he grabbed something that looked like a pig in a blanket.
Rodney sagged in John's arms, head down, breathing labored. "Fuck!" he shouted, before his voice got quiet and he muttered to himself, "I hope they all die in some horrible lab explosion that only I could have saved them from."
John nodded sympathetically and released his hold, patting Rodney on the shoulder. Glancing up he smiled. "Hey, someone else is getting up."
Rodney looked up just in time to hear the high-pitched sobbing as Miko took the podium. Rolling his eyes, he turned to the four men standing behind him. "This is all a joke, right? Any minute now Grodin, Carson and Radek are going to jump out and yell 'gotcha', right?" Rodney's voice was taking on a slightly hysterical tone as he looked from John to Jack, Daniel and Ronon. "Because really, if this is my fucking funeral then I reserve the right to come back and haunt every last one of these bastards until the day they die!" He was shouting again, his face red, panting hard and John reached over and grabbed a glass of water.
"You look like you could use this," he said carefully.
Rodney scowled at the water. "I'm dead, remember?" But even as he said it he reached out for the water because his throat hurt from yelling and he was suddenly really hungry because he didn't even fucking get to eat his lunch because he fucking died! Watching his hand go right through the glass of water he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Why the fuck am I hungry?" he asked calmly, looking up into the semi-frightened faces before him.
"Wow," Jack mumbled, Daniel nodding.
Ronon snorted and turned to Jack. "Can't we trade him in for a less--crazy reaper?"
Jack elbowed Ronon, smiling brightly at Rodney. "Hey--isn't that Zalinsky getting up to talk?"
Rodney had either not heard Ronon or was too distracted by the way John's hand was making slow, relaxing circles on the small of his back to catch the comment but turned when he saw Jack pointing towards the front of the room again. "Great--I suppose now we get to hear how all my brilliant research was really Radek's--that I'd...I'd read his mind or something," Rodney huffed, arms crossing over his chest again as he focused on the small ruffled man at the podium.
Radek pushed his glasses up, blinking out at the crowd of scientists gathered to pay their respects to Rodney. "Doctor Rodney McKay was the most arrogant man I have ever met--" Radek started and Rodney covered his eyes because he really didn't think his day could get any worse than fucking dying but he'd obviously been wrong because not only had he died, he'd apparently gotten a one way ticket to hell. "He was also the most brilliant man I've ever had the pleasure to work with." Rodney's head shot up. "He was the only person whose arrogance was completely justified," Radek continued and Rodney's mouth was splitting into a wide grin, part smug and part relief.
"The loss to the science community will be great," Radek's head bowed. "Rodney was my friend--and I will miss him terribly."
John patted Rodney on the shoulder as Rodney swallowed thickly. "Yes, well--" he cleared his throat. "I always knew Radek wasn't as stupid as he seemed."
The rest of his funeral went by fairly fast--so much so that Rodney felt like someone had hit the fast forward button--and he found himself slumped in the booth of a diner that looked like it belonged in the sixties. "I can't believe I died," Rodney groaned, head pillowed on his crossed arms on the table. John scrunched in closer beside him, making room for Ronon's large legs under the table.
"At least you went out with a bang," John joked. Rodney raised his head long enough to scowl.
"I hope they shot whatever idiot activated that fucking drone," Rodney mumbled into his arms.
"So, what can I get you boys?" A voice chirped beside them and Rodney raised his head slowly, blinking into the smiling face of a petite brunette with large, friendly eyes and a bright grin.
"Uh--"
"Pancakes, bacon, eggs--scrambled, toast, and a large orange juice," Ronon rumbled.
"Fruitloops, coffee--black," Jack answered, handing over his menu.
"Oatmeal, toast, and a large coffee--black, three sugars," Daniel smiled widely.
John hummed beside him before handing over his menu, "Large orange juice and a bowl of Captain Crunch."
The pretty waitress, whose nametag said 'Janet', nodded as she wrote down all their orders, blindly reaching out to retrieve their menus as she turned to Rodney. "And what can I get for you, handsome?"
"Uh--" Rodney said again, eyes wide as he leaned into John's personal space. "You said no one could see me--can she see me? Why can she see me?" he stage whispered, ignoring the worried look 'Janet' was sending him.
He yelped when Jack kicked him under the table, glaring across at the man. "Order something McKay before the waitress thinks you're crazy," Jack said in a singsong voice, as he played with the napkin holder on the table.
"Me?," Rodney hissed before turning to the waitress. "Give me the largest coffee you have--black--no wait, I want the whole pot; god I've missed coffee...and pancakes, bacon, eggs--boiled, toast with butter, hash browns--" his voice trailed off at the amused faces around him before he scowled and snapped, "No citrus! I am deathly allergic to citrus."
Jack, Daniel, Ronon and John all just shook their heads as the waitress walked quickly away from their table, her heels echoing in the near empty diner.
-----
"I have to get back to work," Rodney said. He was laid out on the diner booth, one arm flung over his eyes.
John ignored him. "This place is closing soon, you know."
"They're going to be lost without me," Rodney continued. "Now that I'm alive again--"
"You're not," John corrected lazily. "You're undead."
Rodney shot up in the booth and glared at him. "What does that even mean?"
"It means you're not alive, but you're not dead," John said, and grinned.
"That's entirely unhelpful. If people can see me, then I'll just find Radek and explain--"
"How you died, changed completely in appearance, and now take souls for a living?" John asked wryly.
"What do you mean changed in appearance?" Rodney asked, looking at his hands in horror. "I still feel like me."
"Yeah, to you, to me," John said. "You look different to the living."
"This sucks," Rodney hissed. "I don't even believe in an afterlife."
John laughed. "You might want to change your views on it now, considering."
Rodney crossed his arms. "I'm way too smart to be wasted doing Death's dirty work. I need to get back to Atlantis Labs."
"No can do," John told him. "It's not so bad, okay? You can still do stuff, you just can't do what you were doing."
"And just how will you stop me?" Rodney asked him.
"I won't stop you," John said. "You'll stop yourself. Legend has it that the more you try to capture of your former life, the less you can hold onto it. You'll start to forget things, and considering the importance you seem to put on your intelligence, I'm thinking you don't want that."
"That's..." Rodney glared at him, and narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."
John snorted. "Yes, I just want your company so desperately, I'll say anything."
"Well what am I supposed to do then? Where am I going to sleep? Where do you send my paychecks?"
"You're going to have to figure that out on your own," John said. "And we don't get paid; this is more of a...public service. You're going to need a day job."
Rodney's eyes lit up. "Then I'll just interview at Atlan--"
"A low profile day job," John corrected wryly. "You want to do something that needs your intelligence? Fine. More power to you. But you can't work at your old job, it just isn't done."
"Where do you work?" Rodney asked, suspiciously.
"I give helicopter tours to the rich and boring," John told him, and then heaved a big sigh. "Look, since everyone else had excuses and bailed out, I'm kind of stuck of with you, so I guess you can stay with me until you get a place."
"You're too kind," Rodney said huffily.
"I'm a fucking saint," John said, and pulled out his wallet. He dropped a twenty and a couple of ones on the table and then got to his feet. Rodney followed him out without being asked again.
------
John's apartment was fairly small, but it looked like a model home. There was no clutter, only the bare essentials and a big screen, with a Playstation on the bottom of the shelf. Rodney looked at the framed photos of smiling people arranged on the shelf above the fireplace and frowned. "Is this your family?"
John came to stand beside him. "Nah," he said. "I cut them out of magazines. I just tell people they're my family."
Rodney continued to frown, but noticed a crinkled edge on the photo of a smiling woman that could have been John's sister, and he could see the frayed edge of a Jack Daniels ad on the other side.
"You can sleep on the couch," John told him. "And I can probably find some clothes for you, but they might be a little tight."
"Hey," Rodney snapped.
John just flashed him a grin. "You can use the Playstation if you want, and help yourself to the food. We have to be at O'Malley's by eight."
"What?" Rodney asked. "Why?"
"So Jack can hand out assignments," John told him easily.
"Assignments, meaning people we're supposed to kill?" Rodney snapped.
"We don't kill them, we just ease their way," John said. "Honestly, would you have wanted to be completely in your body when that drone hit? No, of course not, and that's what we do, we make it easier."
Rodney dropped onto the couch sulkily. "You could have shouted, 'hey, run' instead of waving at me," he snapped. "In fact, I think it's your fault. You had me stuck in place with your stupid fucking wiles."
John gave him a lop-sided grin. "There was nothing I could have done, I just thought I'd try and distract you from it while Hammond popped your soul."
"Hammond?" Rodney asked curiously.
"The nice man that sat beside you right before it happened." John said, as he pulled his curtains shut.
"You mean that weirdo that felt me up?" Rodney asked him incredulously.
"Sure," John said easily. "He took your soul, and it filled his quota, so he's off doing something else now."
"What something else?" Rodney asked him. "And when do I fill my quota?"
"I have no idea," John said. "You'll have to talk with Daniel. He's the one that tries to figure all this stuff out. He drives Jack crazy."
Rodney dropped his head into his hands. "This dead thing is a fucking nightmare."
"You'll get used to it," John told him. "Just get some sleep." John disappeared into his bedroom, turning the light out before he went, and Rodney fell sideways onto the couch, and watched the street lights flicker through the blinds until he fell asleep.
-----
When Rodney woke up, there were a pair of jeans and a long sleeved green shirt folded on the coffee table. John wandered into the room just a moment later, wearing another pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt, his hair dripping wet, slipping down his neck and soaking the collar. "You can use the shower," John offered, pointing behind him.
Rodney watched him wander into the kitchen, stopping every few feet to better toe on his sneakers. It was funny, because waking up to someone like John had long since been a fantasy, and it just figured he'd have to be dead for it to come true.
Of course, even dead, they'd still been sleeping in separate rooms.
"Thanks," Rodney mumbled. He found the shower easily enough, and stripped off his clothes before throwing himself in. He stood under the spray for fifteen minutes before John was knocking on the door and asking him if he was alright. "I'll be out in a minute!" he shouted.
He got dressed as quick as he could, but the clothes, as John had predicted, were a little tighter than he was used to. Once he finally got in the jeans, they looked like they'd been painted on. He wandered back into the living room and then fell back onto the couch, feeling drained.
"I probably shouldn't be showing this to you," John said, as he walked over with a coffee and a newspaper.
Rodney squinted at him with one eye. "Show me what?"
"Coffee first," John told him. He knelt in front of him and held out the steaming mug.
Rodney took the coffee, reevaluating the whole dead thing slightly. He could get used to the nice gorgeous guy bringing him coffee every morning. "What is it?" he asked.
"You made the front page," John told him softly, before handing the paper over.
The headline read: BRILLANT SCIENTIST KILLED IN BIZARRE LAB ACCIDENT.
"At least they got the brilliant part right," Rodney said. He tried to sound calm, but he felt a little sick, looking at the black and white photo of himself hovering above the caption 'the late Dr. Rodney McKay'. "Of course, genius would have been better."
He quickly read through the article, and then irritably tossed the paper aside.
"What's wrong?" John asked him, still watching him with those large intense eyes.
"No one is getting prosecuted for killing me!" he shouted. "It was that worm Kavanagh, I'm sure; he'd probably been planning it for years, and then the morons rule it an accident! An accident!"
"Maybe it was," John said. "Maybe it was gravelings."
"Gravelings?" Rodney asked. He was supposed to know everything about everything, but he just wasn't up on undead slang.
John nodded. "The things that make bad things happen," he said, before glancing at his clock and getting back to his feet. "We've got to run," he said. "We're going to be late."
-----
They were the last ones there. Ronon was huddled over a plate of bacon and eggs, stabbing at his food and then shoveling it into his mouth. Daniel was poking at a bowl of oatmeal and Jack was taking up a whole bench, sitting with his legs out and sorting through a pile of post-its.
John pushed Jack's legs off the edge and then slid in beside him. Rodney sat down reluctantly and tried not to watch Ronon eat.
"How's the newbie?" Jack asked, without so much as sparing Rodney a glance.
"He cleans up nice enough," John said, and flashed Rodney a grin.
Jack just snorted and stuck a post-it on the table in front of John. "I want you to take him with you today, teach him the ropes."
"I had him all yesterday," John said. He glanced at Rodney. "No offense or anything."
"Oh, none taken," Rodney snapped. He looked across at Daniel. "Are you going to eat that or what?"
"What?" Daniel asked distractedly, before glancing up and staring at Rodney like they'd never met.
"The oatmeal," Rodney said, for clarification. "Are you going to eat it or not?"
"Oh," Daniel said. He slid it across to Rodney. "You can have it if you want."
Rodney dug in without being told twice, and John rolled his eyes. "New reapers always screw things up," John said, turning to Jack. "Don't you remember what happened when you made me teach Daniel the ropes?"
"Hey," Daniel said, leaning forward. "It was a perfectly understandable mistake."
"Shouting 'hey watch out'?" John asked disbelievingly.
"It was instinct," Daniel told him sulkily. "I can't help it."
"Which is why I'm stuck keeping an eye on Daniel," Jack said. "And why you're stuck with the new kid."
"What about Ronon?" John asked. They all looked to Ronon, who grunted at them and went back to his food. John sighed. "Okay, fine. Looks like you're riding shotgun, McKay."
"Doctor," Rodney said.
"Not anymore," John said.
"Must you keep bringing that up?" Rodney demanded.
"For as long as you keep forgetting," John told him, and then picked up his post-it. "Let's go. We've got an early appointment today."
-----
"So where are we going?" Rodney demanded as he fought to keep up.
John had been completely unreasonable and refused to let him finish his oatmeal. He'd just grabbed his arm and started dragging him along. He reached into his pocket and handed Rodney the post-it.
"M. Sumner. Corner of Norad and Pegasus. ETD: 8:40 a.m." Rodney blinked. "ETD? Estimated time of death? Is this all some cosmic joke, or something? Are you fucking kidding me with this? This is all you get?"
"The less we know the better," John said. "For instance, if I'd known what a little ray of sunshine you were, I might have found your death harder to watch."
"You're a bastard," Rodney told him.
John smirked. "I've just been at this awhile."
"How long?" Rodney asked curiously.
"You don't want to know," John said quickly. "I haven't been at it as long as Jack in any case. The man is ancient."
They made it to the spot five minutes ahead of schedule and John leaned against a brick wall and crossed his ankles, looking for all the world like he was just waiting out the end of a lunch break, and not waiting to help someone die.
"I don't think I can do this," Rodney said, feeling sick again. "I'm not really built to kill people."
"We're not assassins, McKay," John said wryly. "Unless thinking of us like assassins helps."
"It doesn't," Rodney snapped.
"Then think of us more like...I don't know...flight attendants for the dead. Please head this way, towards the lights, etc, etc."
"You're completely insane," Rodney told him.
"Sanity doesn't have much use when you're undead," he said. "Mostly I've found it to be counterproductive."
A man started towards them, and Rodney wouldn't have noticed him but for the way John pulled himself up straight the moment he came into view. "Sumner?" he asked, twisting his tone of voice into something oddly giddy and curious, with none of that sardonic wryness Rodney had quickly come to love. "Is that you?"
The man blinked and walked over to him. "Do I know you?"
"You're Sumner, right? Wow, I've heard stories about you, legends--it's...I can hardly believe I'm actually meeting you."
Rodney scrunched up his face at John, wondering what the hell he was going on about, but Sumner just gave a slight grin and stood up straighter. "You in the marines, son?"
"Used to be," John said. "Do you mind if I shake your hand?"
Sumner held his hand out. "You sure we never served together? You look familiar."
"Afraid not," John said. He took the man's arm at the wrist, and dragged his hand gently down; ripples and waves and light seemed to accompany the movement, and Rodney winced.
"I've got to be going," Sumner said. "Take care."
"Take care," John echoed, letting go. "Semper Fi."
Sumner nodded and headed off down the ally. Rodney saw someone in a black trench coat come out of the shadows and push Sumner against the wall, shouting for his wallet and his money.
"So you were a marine?" Rodney asked.
John watched the gun fire off and the bullet hit, splitting apart Sumner's heart with one shot. "No," he said. "I wasn't."
Sumner appeared beside them, bewildered, as the mugger fled from the corpse. "Am I dead?" he asked.
"Afraid so," John told him. Rodney just stared at Sumner's body, thinking about his own recent demise.
"Twenty five years of service," Sumner said, "and I get shot by some punk kid in an ally."
"Yeah," John said, carefully leading Sumner towards a shimmering blue mass. "Ain't life a bitch?"
-----
"You can't just leave me here--what the hell am I supposed to do?" Rodney yelled.
John sighed. "Look, McKay, you remember that nice apartment you stayed in last night? Well my landlord prefers me paying rent to letting me stay for free and in order to pay my rent, I have to work."
"This sucks," Rodney sulked. "I hate my life!"
John grinned. "You mean your death." He ruffled Rodney's hair, ignoring the outraged scowl and tossed a, "See you tonight," over his shoulder.
Rodney reached up, fixing his messed hair and looked around. John had left him in the middle of a busy mall; couples performing PDAs on his left, screaming children on his right. His day just kept getting better and better. "The least he could have done was lend me some money for lunch," he groused, hands just barely squeezing into his pockets as he headed towards the mall exit.
-----
Four hours later Rodney was at his wits end. He had no where to go, couldn't go home to his own house, couldn't go back to the lab, had no idea where John worked, where Jack, Daniel or Ronon spent their days, had no money...Fuck!
Rodney ran his hands through his hair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, John was standing inches away, grinning with amusement. "Hey, Rodney," he drawled.
"Oh thank GOD!" Rodney breathed, grabbing John by the arm. "I am starving!" John chuckled. "I am hypoglycemic--I have to eat every few hours or I could die!" John rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Fine, fine, yes I know--already dead, got that but that's totally beside the point. It's been hours."
John slung an arm around Rodney's shoulder, leading him down the street. "So, how was your day?"
"Dreadful," Rodney snorted.
"It'll get better," John assured with a wink that had Rodney's stomach fluttering.
"Can we eat now?" Rodney asked.
"I could eat," John grinned, pulling his arm away and Rodney ignored the pang of disappointment at the loss of contact. "There's a great little place just down the street."
___
The next morning Rodney woke with a shriek when he rolled right off the side of John's couch. John grinned down at him as he lay staring at the ceiling. "Morning, sunshine."
Rodney grunted, lifting an arm for John to help him up. He groaned as the muscles in his back twinged. "I died--shouldn't that make me exempt from things like bad backs and sore muscles?"
John laughed, patting his back and turning towards the kitchen. "Coffee?"
Rodney perked up at that, following John into the kitchen and wrapping his hands around the steaming mug John held out. Inhaling deeply he took a large gulp, sighing as he felt the caffeine hitting his system. "I think I love you," he said earnestly, staring into the mug.
"I love you too, McKay," John snorted.
"I was talking to the coffee," Rodney growled.
___
When they arrived at O'Malley's, Ronon was halfway through his usual breakfast, Daniel was sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. John and Rodney slid into the booth opposite Daniel. "Where's Jack?" John asked.
"Running late," Daniel answered absently.
Janet came over, smiling brightly. "What can I get you boys?"
They ordered and Rodney muttered endearments into his coffee mug again while John just shook his head. Ronon growled when John stole a piece of bacon but otherwise didn't stop him. Rodney eyed Ronon's plate, his hand creeping closer towards the lone sausage left. He yelped in pain when Ronon stabbed him with his fork, clutching his hand to his chest, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Why didn't you stab John?"
John snickered beside him, earning Rodney's glare. Bumping his shoulder against Rodney's John pushed the rest of his hash browns towards him. Rodney huffed and then quirked a grin at John. "Thanks."
"Gotta keep your strength up," John winked. "Today's your first reap."
Rodney paled, swallowing thickly before pushing the plate back towards John, "Suddenly I'm not really all that hungry." John threw him a worried glance but didn't comment.
"Good morning campers!" Jack's cheerful voice called as he walked towards them.
"Is he always like this?" Rodney asked with a frown.
"Pretty much," Daniel shrugged, sliding over in the booth to make room for Jack.
Rubbing his hands together, Jack smiled at Janet. "Coffee and your biggest bowl of oatmeal."
Daniel, John and Ronon all stared at him. "You feeling okay, Jack?"
"Just peachy."
John's brow wrinkled. "You don't eat oatmeal...ever."
"It's good to be open to new experiences," Jack said seriously. Opening the day planner in front of him he slapped post-it notes down in front of Ronon and John.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"
"You, Danny boy--have the day off." Jack clapped him on the shoulder.
Daniel grinned maniacally as he shoved Jack out of the booth. "See you guys later."
Shaking his head Jack yelled, "Stay out of trouble." John and Ronon snorted.
Turning back towards Rodney, Jack folded his hands in front of him. Rodney shifted uncomfortably under the steady gaze. Jack peeled off a post-it from his day planner and placed it carefully in front of Rodney. Rodney swallowed. Jack leaned back, placing a hand along the back of the seat as he turned to John. "You're babysitting again today," he said with a grin that showed none of the intensity from the previous moment.
"Aw man," John groaned.
Rodney stared at the post-it in front of him, not touching it. F. Collins. Spring Garden and Fifth. ETD: 3:27 p.m. Taking a deep breath, and tearing his eyes from the post-it he looked at Jack. "So what happens if I'm not there at 3:27?"
Jack's eyes hardened. "You'll be there."
Rodney nodded. "Yes, yes but what if I'm not?"
John cleared his throat, pushing on Rodney's arm and sliding out behind him. "He'll be there." He smiled charmingly at Jack, patting Ronon on the shoulder before hustling Rodney out of O'Malley's and into the warm summer air.
"Trust me, you do not wanna piss Jack off," John said in a low voice, grabbing Rodney's wrist and pulling him down the street.
"I tend to piss most people off," Rodney stated matter-of-factly. "Besides--I like to understand things and if I'm going to be the star in ‘night of the living dead’ I'd like to have all the facts."
John smirked. "You're just going to have to learn as you go."
"I hate that," Rodney muttered.
"So," John grinned. "We've got some time to kill."
"What time is your--"
"Not till later tonight," John said quickly. "So...job hunting?"
Rodney frowned. "Did you get fired?"
Rolling his eyes, John sighed. "Not for me, McKay--you're going to need to get a job too."
Rodney pursed his lips in what looked like a pout. "But I like being a kept man."
John snorted and shoved Rodney, throwing him off balance and laughing when Rodney threw him a crooked grin.
__
At 1:30, after totally blowing off the job search, John's eyes had lit up when they passed an amusement park. "They have a Ferris Wheel!" John was practically bouncing. Rodney gave a well practiced, long suffering sigh and let John pull him towards the ride, shaking his head as John's grin just kept getting bigger the closer they got.
By 2:00 Rodney was nauseated from four trips around the Ferris wheel and had to bodily drag John away, feeling vaguely guilty at John's pout of disappointment. He made it up to him by borrowing some money from John and then buying him a stuffed penguin. "I don't do sports," Rodney explained.
John chuckled. "I don't think you can really call the ring toss a sport." But he clutched the penguin close, grinning happily beside Rodney as they left the amusement park.
___
They were on Spring Garden by 3:00 and Rodney was, by that point, ready to offer John anything. "Seriously--I'll get the next one. I promise."
John shook his head. "Rodney--it's your post-it."
"So?" Rodney snapped in frustration.
"You're the only one that can reap F. Collins."
"Have I mentioned how much this fucking sucks?" Rodney bitched.
"Numerous times," John said wryly.
Rodney sighed beside him, looking around at the unsuspecting peons scurrying around them. A familiar, wild tuft of hair caught his attention. "Radek!" Rodney yelled, squeaking when John shoved him against the side of a building, pressing his lips to Rodney's.
When John pulled back his eyes were dark. "What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed.
Rodney's brain was still stuck on John kissing him. "Huh?"
"You're dead, Rodney--dead. You need to break off all ties with your old life." John's voice was quiet and serious.
Rodney swallowed and nodded. "Sorry, sorry--I...I wasn't thinking."
John sighed, as he pulled back. "I know--just--aw, damn." Rodney blinked as John bent down in front of him. "You made me drop Steve."
"Steve?" Rodney frowned.
John dusted off the penguin, holding it in front of Rodney's face. "Steve." John tucked the penguin under his arm and headed towards Fifth, Rodney hurrying to catch up.
"So," Rodney smiled smugly, "you kissed me."
John glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "No I didn't."
"Oh, yes--you did." Rodney was humming to himself, hands in his pockets.
Shaking his head, John snorted. "So Radek wouldn't see you."
Rodney scoffed. "Hello--" he waved a hand towards himself, "he wouldn't recognize me anyway."
John looked at him pointedly. "I think the arm waving would have caught his attention."
__
At 3:20 Rodney couldn't breathe. "I can't kill anyone."
"Rodney--we've been over this."
"I don't care!" Rodney shouted, lowering his voice when John stepped closer. "I can't do this."
"Yes, you can," John said calmly. "All you have to do is touch the guy."
"Are you insane?" Rodney hissed. "All I have is a god damned first initial! What if Frank and fucking Flo Collins are standing beside each other?! Which one do I fucking take?!" Rodney's hands were clenched into fists. "This is so fucked up."
"Breathe Rodney," John squeezed the back of his neck. "This is the way things have been for a very long time--it works, trust me."
At 3:23 Fred Collins dropped his wallet in front of Rodney. Bending down Rodney glanced at the man's driver's license. "Excuse me, you dropped this."
Frank turned around, a smile on his face. "Shit, thanks--" Rodney's hand brushed Collins' wrist as the man reached for the wallet, leaving a tingle in Rodney's fingertips. Shaking his head with a confused frown Collins' looked back at Rodney nodding with a grin. "Thanks again."
Rodney took a deep breath, closing his eyes when the busker juggling lit batons slipped in the ice cream the snot nosed little girl had dropped, missing the twirling mass of fire as it plummeted back towards the ground.
John placed a hand on Rodney's shoulder and turned him away from the screaming Collins as he went up in flames. "You okay?"
Rodney turned blue eyes towards John. "No."
“Oh wow,” Fred said beside them, staring at the still smoking remains of his former body. “Is that--?”
John nodded.
“So now what?” Fred asked, turning wide eyes towards them.
Rodney gestured with a nod of his head. “I think that’s your ride.” Behind Fred was a shimmering blue vision of cliffs and water and clouds. Fred’s smile was wide as he stepped closer and Rodney said, “What’s on the other side?”
John watched beside him. “I have no idea.”
Fred waved as he stepped into the light, disappearing from their eyes. Rodney sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “That--is very disconcerting.”
John laughed and started down the street. “Are you hungry?”
With one last look at the place Fred Collins had disappeared Rodney shrugged and fell in step beside John. “I could eat.”
Next in the series: Dead Man Walking.
-- Co-written with the lovely and talented forcryinoutloud.
They were serving lemon chicken in the little lunchroom again, just to spite him.
Rodney grabbed his coat and called them all jealous imbeciles that wanted him dead, and then went out the door, slamming it shut behind him. As last words went, he figured his weren't that bad and at least they had the benefit of being true.
Maybe it wasn't anything inspiring or brilliant, but he was inspiring and brilliant all the rest of the time in all of his too short life, so they would always have that to remember him by.
He got a coffee and a bagel from the Starbucks on the corner and then wandered back out into the street. He sat on the bench in front of his lab, not ready to face his annoying colleagues, and then just watched all the stupid people go by as he pondered Atlantis' Labs newest acquisition; a missile drone from a secret research site somewhere in Antarctica.
He was brought out of his thoughts when someone sat beside him, and he rolled his eyes, because that was the last thing he needed. He didn't do that whole small talk with strangers thing, but from his estimate, about 87.3% of the population did, and it was a good bet this one would be a talker.
"Are you Rodney McKay?" the man asked. He was an older man, and balding, but Rodney recognized from his eyes that he wasn't a complete imbecile, so didn't completely blow him off.
"Dr. Rodney McKay," Rodney corrected, rather huffily. "Who the hell are you?"
"That's not important," the man said kindly, before reaching out and patting his leg. It tingled strangely, and Rodney rubbed at the spot he'd touched in irritation, barely noticing as the man slipped away again.
He set his coffee and bagel aside, feeling strangely disconnected and off balance. He glanced up; feeling like someone was walking over his grave, and locked eyes with a man across the street. He was standing on the edge of the curb, wearing a blue track jacket and sneakers, with his hands in his pockets, and he was probably the most effortlessly attractive person Rodney had seen even this close.
He didn't know he was staring until the man threw him a dorky wave and a big grin, and the next instant he was gasping for breath three feet from where he'd been, looking at the smoking mass that had been his body. An organic like missile was sticking out of his back, losing the last of its flickering glow. He recognized it easily, and when his eyes turned to the lab, he saw the front window had been blown completely apart.
"Oh, god," Rodney said. "Oh god. I'm hallucinating. I must be--what the hell was in that coffee?"
Rodney glanced back toward his body. The gorgeous guy that had waved at him had crossed the street, and was holding Rodney's coffee and taking a sip, looking down at the smoking corpse with a frown. People were running around like the morons they were, obviously unable to figure out what to do. He didn't see one person take out a cell phone to call 911, the idiots.
"The coffee's great," the cute guy said, apparently looking right at him. "You're just feeling a little weird because you're dead."
"I'm not dead," Rodney denied instantly. "I'm too brilliant to be dead!"
"Huh," the man said. "That's a new one. I haven't heard that one before." He stepped over the body and out of the way of the gathering crowd effortlessly, and then stopped beside Rodney.
"I'm not, I can't be," Rodney told him, before pointing at him in accusation. "What is this? If I'm dead, then how am I talking to you? Ha! Explain that!"
"You're talking to me because I'm a grim reaper," the guy said, and flashed him another toothpaste ad grin.
"You are not a grim reaper," Rodney snapped. "You're way too pretty."
"Flattery won't get your life back," he said, charmingly, before swinging an arm around his shoulders and steering him away from his body. "I don't think we've been properly introduced, I'm John."
"Dr. Rodney McKay," Rodney snapped. "I demand to see your supervisor."
"Jack? Jack's a little busy," John said. "He's having trouble with Daniel again; he keeps trying to save people; which means you’re my responsibility."
Rodney glanced back again. Radek, Peter and Carson had run out and were standing around his body looking shell shocked and pale. Peter had to hold Miko back, as she screamed his name hysterically through her tears.
"You don't need to watch this," John told him softly.
Rodney just nodded, and let John continue to lead him away. His silence, however, didn't last long.
"Where are you taking me?" he demanded. "Shouldn't I be moving into a light or something?"
"We're going to pick up my laundry," John told him.
"Are you fucking with me?" Rodney snapped.
John grinned at him again. He seemed to do that a lot, and Rodney didn't like the way it distracted him. He was dead for Christ's sake, and still being ruled by hormones. "Hey, calm down," John told him. "We're just killing time until your funeral."
"My funeral?" Rodney asked, suddenly inexplicably delighted. "I get to go?"
"Got you front row seats," John told him.
"It's probably not going to be for days, though," he said, frowning. "I'm sure they're going to need time to plan something spectacular enough to honor my genius. What am I supposed to do until then?"
"You can go haunt people if you want," John said. "That's always fun, and honestly, I can't really do anything with you when you're like this. It’s so disconcerting interacting with the dead. It's like hanging out with Casper or something, I never liked it."
Rodney glared at him. "Well, aren't you dead?" he demanded.
John shook his head. "I'm undead, which means I get to do pretty much whatever I want, so long as I nab a few souls every once and awhile."
"Charming," Rodney hissed.
"Don't worry," John told him. "Time passes differently when you're dead. They'll be having your funeral in no time."
John waved at him again, earning a few strange looks from people passing by that couldn't see who he was waving at, and then slid into the Dry Cleaners to pick up his laundry.
-----
Rodney scowled as John snatched another--Jesus was that lemon?--tart from the table in front of them. "Couldn't you wait until after the service?" Rodney hissed. "And aren't you dead--undead--whatever...do you even need to eat?" He watched as John popped the tart into his mouth with a cocky smirk and raised eyebrow.
"There's nothing wrong with enjoying fine cuisine," John grinned.
Rodney snorted. "Well it's obvious your taste buds are dead."
John shrugged as he reached for a glass of champagne. "You know, this is pretty swanky. They've really gone all out for you."
"Yes, well--it's only logical. I am the smartest man alive."
"Were," John said absently, scanning the room, grinning when he saw the rest of the gang wandering in. Ronon headed straight for them, eyes on the table of food; Daniel looked solemn in his beautifully tailored black suit; Jack sauntered beside Daniel, his suit just as pristine as Daniel's but with an amused smirk on his face as they stopped in front of John and Rodney. "Guys," John nodded.
Rodney had been searching the room, apparently looking for some scientist named Sam something or other that he told John would be devastated by his death; she was after all head over heels in love with him. He pulled his gaze from the room at large though at John's voice, frowning as he took in the three strangers before them. He leaned closer to John, whispering from the side of his mouth, "Can they see us?"
Jack rolled his eyes, scanning the table with a sigh. "What, no beer?"
Daniel held out his hand to Rodney, smiling brightly. "My name is Daniel--and yes, we can see you."
"Are you dead too?" Rodney snapped, staring at the outstretched hand before narrowing his eyes at the large, hairy man, currently stuffing two lemon tarts in his mouth and four in the pocket of his long black trench coat.
Jack stuffed his hands in his suit pockets, looking pointedly at John. "How much did you tell him?"
"Not much," John shrugged. "That's your job," he grinned, rocking on the balls of his feet.
"Hey, dead guy here--care to fill me in?" Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, mouth pulled down in a crooked line.
"Oh look, the shows about to start," Jack said, pointing towards the front of the room where Elizabeth was stepping up to the podium.
Rodney's crooked frown turned into a crooked, and smug, grin. "Ah, Elizabeth--"
"She's hot," Ronon's low voice sounded behind them.
Rodney waved a hand, shushing him. "Shut up--I want to hear how devastated they all are by my untimely--and completely unfair death." He threw a glare at John as if it was John's fault he was dead before returning his eyes to the front of the room.
The scientists that had been thus far milling about the room in various groups, talking quietly amongst themselves, all moved forwards to take their seats as Elizabeth began to speak. "We're all here to pay our respects to our late colleague, Rodney McKay."
"Doctor," Rodney shouted, his grin souring.
"Ssh," John said in his ear, grinning when Rodney huffed indignantly.
Elizabeth went on to talk about Rodney's contributions to the lab, the accomplishments he had achieved in his life, all with Rodney clarifying loudly to the room at large (despite the fact John had told him no one could hear or see them) whenever Elizabeth got something wrong (which was happening far too much for Rodney's liking) or when she left some vital contribution he'd made out (also happening too often). All in all Rodney was very disappointed with the speech. "She should have prepared more--made cue cards or something," he grumbled. "She didn't come close to expressing the true scope of what a genius I really am."
"Were," John grinned.
When Elizabeth opened the floor to anyone who would like to say a few words about Rodney, he turned to John with a triumphant grin. "Now we'll see devastation."
Rodney's eyes were huge, his mouth falling open a little more with each person that spoke and John tried very hard not to laugh. So far, Simpson, Gaul, and someone named Kavanagh had all stood to speak.
Simpson had said she was sorry McKay had died but that his death was just like the man; loud-the rest of her words were drowned out by Rodney's angry squawk of protest.
Gaul had said he didn't think he would ever meet another man whose girlish fear when it came to such innocuous things as bugs and lemon chicken could surpass Rodney McKay's. Rodney had begun waving his hands, yelling about allergies and death and other less coherent things and John was sure Rodney's eyes were going to bug right out of his head, but then Kavanagh had gotten up to speak.
When he announced to the room that with the passing of McKay, his own brilliance would no longer be ignored, John had to literally hold Rodney back as he tried to lunge for the man. "Have you forgotten your current state of death, McKay?" John managed to wheeze, his arm tightening around Rodney's waist, as he tried not to burst out laughing.
Behind them Daniel's eyes were wide in shock, Jack was smirking and shaking his head and Ronon was chuckling to himself as he grabbed something that looked like a pig in a blanket.
Rodney sagged in John's arms, head down, breathing labored. "Fuck!" he shouted, before his voice got quiet and he muttered to himself, "I hope they all die in some horrible lab explosion that only I could have saved them from."
John nodded sympathetically and released his hold, patting Rodney on the shoulder. Glancing up he smiled. "Hey, someone else is getting up."
Rodney looked up just in time to hear the high-pitched sobbing as Miko took the podium. Rolling his eyes, he turned to the four men standing behind him. "This is all a joke, right? Any minute now Grodin, Carson and Radek are going to jump out and yell 'gotcha', right?" Rodney's voice was taking on a slightly hysterical tone as he looked from John to Jack, Daniel and Ronon. "Because really, if this is my fucking funeral then I reserve the right to come back and haunt every last one of these bastards until the day they die!" He was shouting again, his face red, panting hard and John reached over and grabbed a glass of water.
"You look like you could use this," he said carefully.
Rodney scowled at the water. "I'm dead, remember?" But even as he said it he reached out for the water because his throat hurt from yelling and he was suddenly really hungry because he didn't even fucking get to eat his lunch because he fucking died! Watching his hand go right through the glass of water he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Why the fuck am I hungry?" he asked calmly, looking up into the semi-frightened faces before him.
"Wow," Jack mumbled, Daniel nodding.
Ronon snorted and turned to Jack. "Can't we trade him in for a less--crazy reaper?"
Jack elbowed Ronon, smiling brightly at Rodney. "Hey--isn't that Zalinsky getting up to talk?"
Rodney had either not heard Ronon or was too distracted by the way John's hand was making slow, relaxing circles on the small of his back to catch the comment but turned when he saw Jack pointing towards the front of the room again. "Great--I suppose now we get to hear how all my brilliant research was really Radek's--that I'd...I'd read his mind or something," Rodney huffed, arms crossing over his chest again as he focused on the small ruffled man at the podium.
Radek pushed his glasses up, blinking out at the crowd of scientists gathered to pay their respects to Rodney. "Doctor Rodney McKay was the most arrogant man I have ever met--" Radek started and Rodney covered his eyes because he really didn't think his day could get any worse than fucking dying but he'd obviously been wrong because not only had he died, he'd apparently gotten a one way ticket to hell. "He was also the most brilliant man I've ever had the pleasure to work with." Rodney's head shot up. "He was the only person whose arrogance was completely justified," Radek continued and Rodney's mouth was splitting into a wide grin, part smug and part relief.
"The loss to the science community will be great," Radek's head bowed. "Rodney was my friend--and I will miss him terribly."
John patted Rodney on the shoulder as Rodney swallowed thickly. "Yes, well--" he cleared his throat. "I always knew Radek wasn't as stupid as he seemed."
The rest of his funeral went by fairly fast--so much so that Rodney felt like someone had hit the fast forward button--and he found himself slumped in the booth of a diner that looked like it belonged in the sixties. "I can't believe I died," Rodney groaned, head pillowed on his crossed arms on the table. John scrunched in closer beside him, making room for Ronon's large legs under the table.
"At least you went out with a bang," John joked. Rodney raised his head long enough to scowl.
"I hope they shot whatever idiot activated that fucking drone," Rodney mumbled into his arms.
"So, what can I get you boys?" A voice chirped beside them and Rodney raised his head slowly, blinking into the smiling face of a petite brunette with large, friendly eyes and a bright grin.
"Uh--"
"Pancakes, bacon, eggs--scrambled, toast, and a large orange juice," Ronon rumbled.
"Fruitloops, coffee--black," Jack answered, handing over his menu.
"Oatmeal, toast, and a large coffee--black, three sugars," Daniel smiled widely.
John hummed beside him before handing over his menu, "Large orange juice and a bowl of Captain Crunch."
The pretty waitress, whose nametag said 'Janet', nodded as she wrote down all their orders, blindly reaching out to retrieve their menus as she turned to Rodney. "And what can I get for you, handsome?"
"Uh--" Rodney said again, eyes wide as he leaned into John's personal space. "You said no one could see me--can she see me? Why can she see me?" he stage whispered, ignoring the worried look 'Janet' was sending him.
He yelped when Jack kicked him under the table, glaring across at the man. "Order something McKay before the waitress thinks you're crazy," Jack said in a singsong voice, as he played with the napkin holder on the table.
"Me?," Rodney hissed before turning to the waitress. "Give me the largest coffee you have--black--no wait, I want the whole pot; god I've missed coffee...and pancakes, bacon, eggs--boiled, toast with butter, hash browns--" his voice trailed off at the amused faces around him before he scowled and snapped, "No citrus! I am deathly allergic to citrus."
Jack, Daniel, Ronon and John all just shook their heads as the waitress walked quickly away from their table, her heels echoing in the near empty diner.
-----
"I have to get back to work," Rodney said. He was laid out on the diner booth, one arm flung over his eyes.
John ignored him. "This place is closing soon, you know."
"They're going to be lost without me," Rodney continued. "Now that I'm alive again--"
"You're not," John corrected lazily. "You're undead."
Rodney shot up in the booth and glared at him. "What does that even mean?"
"It means you're not alive, but you're not dead," John said, and grinned.
"That's entirely unhelpful. If people can see me, then I'll just find Radek and explain--"
"How you died, changed completely in appearance, and now take souls for a living?" John asked wryly.
"What do you mean changed in appearance?" Rodney asked, looking at his hands in horror. "I still feel like me."
"Yeah, to you, to me," John said. "You look different to the living."
"This sucks," Rodney hissed. "I don't even believe in an afterlife."
John laughed. "You might want to change your views on it now, considering."
Rodney crossed his arms. "I'm way too smart to be wasted doing Death's dirty work. I need to get back to Atlantis Labs."
"No can do," John told him. "It's not so bad, okay? You can still do stuff, you just can't do what you were doing."
"And just how will you stop me?" Rodney asked him.
"I won't stop you," John said. "You'll stop yourself. Legend has it that the more you try to capture of your former life, the less you can hold onto it. You'll start to forget things, and considering the importance you seem to put on your intelligence, I'm thinking you don't want that."
"That's..." Rodney glared at him, and narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."
John snorted. "Yes, I just want your company so desperately, I'll say anything."
"Well what am I supposed to do then? Where am I going to sleep? Where do you send my paychecks?"
"You're going to have to figure that out on your own," John said. "And we don't get paid; this is more of a...public service. You're going to need a day job."
Rodney's eyes lit up. "Then I'll just interview at Atlan--"
"A low profile day job," John corrected wryly. "You want to do something that needs your intelligence? Fine. More power to you. But you can't work at your old job, it just isn't done."
"Where do you work?" Rodney asked, suspiciously.
"I give helicopter tours to the rich and boring," John told him, and then heaved a big sigh. "Look, since everyone else had excuses and bailed out, I'm kind of stuck of with you, so I guess you can stay with me until you get a place."
"You're too kind," Rodney said huffily.
"I'm a fucking saint," John said, and pulled out his wallet. He dropped a twenty and a couple of ones on the table and then got to his feet. Rodney followed him out without being asked again.
------
John's apartment was fairly small, but it looked like a model home. There was no clutter, only the bare essentials and a big screen, with a Playstation on the bottom of the shelf. Rodney looked at the framed photos of smiling people arranged on the shelf above the fireplace and frowned. "Is this your family?"
John came to stand beside him. "Nah," he said. "I cut them out of magazines. I just tell people they're my family."
Rodney continued to frown, but noticed a crinkled edge on the photo of a smiling woman that could have been John's sister, and he could see the frayed edge of a Jack Daniels ad on the other side.
"You can sleep on the couch," John told him. "And I can probably find some clothes for you, but they might be a little tight."
"Hey," Rodney snapped.
John just flashed him a grin. "You can use the Playstation if you want, and help yourself to the food. We have to be at O'Malley's by eight."
"What?" Rodney asked. "Why?"
"So Jack can hand out assignments," John told him easily.
"Assignments, meaning people we're supposed to kill?" Rodney snapped.
"We don't kill them, we just ease their way," John said. "Honestly, would you have wanted to be completely in your body when that drone hit? No, of course not, and that's what we do, we make it easier."
Rodney dropped onto the couch sulkily. "You could have shouted, 'hey, run' instead of waving at me," he snapped. "In fact, I think it's your fault. You had me stuck in place with your stupid fucking wiles."
John gave him a lop-sided grin. "There was nothing I could have done, I just thought I'd try and distract you from it while Hammond popped your soul."
"Hammond?" Rodney asked curiously.
"The nice man that sat beside you right before it happened." John said, as he pulled his curtains shut.
"You mean that weirdo that felt me up?" Rodney asked him incredulously.
"Sure," John said easily. "He took your soul, and it filled his quota, so he's off doing something else now."
"What something else?" Rodney asked him. "And when do I fill my quota?"
"I have no idea," John said. "You'll have to talk with Daniel. He's the one that tries to figure all this stuff out. He drives Jack crazy."
Rodney dropped his head into his hands. "This dead thing is a fucking nightmare."
"You'll get used to it," John told him. "Just get some sleep." John disappeared into his bedroom, turning the light out before he went, and Rodney fell sideways onto the couch, and watched the street lights flicker through the blinds until he fell asleep.
-----
When Rodney woke up, there were a pair of jeans and a long sleeved green shirt folded on the coffee table. John wandered into the room just a moment later, wearing another pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt, his hair dripping wet, slipping down his neck and soaking the collar. "You can use the shower," John offered, pointing behind him.
Rodney watched him wander into the kitchen, stopping every few feet to better toe on his sneakers. It was funny, because waking up to someone like John had long since been a fantasy, and it just figured he'd have to be dead for it to come true.
Of course, even dead, they'd still been sleeping in separate rooms.
"Thanks," Rodney mumbled. He found the shower easily enough, and stripped off his clothes before throwing himself in. He stood under the spray for fifteen minutes before John was knocking on the door and asking him if he was alright. "I'll be out in a minute!" he shouted.
He got dressed as quick as he could, but the clothes, as John had predicted, were a little tighter than he was used to. Once he finally got in the jeans, they looked like they'd been painted on. He wandered back into the living room and then fell back onto the couch, feeling drained.
"I probably shouldn't be showing this to you," John said, as he walked over with a coffee and a newspaper.
Rodney squinted at him with one eye. "Show me what?"
"Coffee first," John told him. He knelt in front of him and held out the steaming mug.
Rodney took the coffee, reevaluating the whole dead thing slightly. He could get used to the nice gorgeous guy bringing him coffee every morning. "What is it?" he asked.
"You made the front page," John told him softly, before handing the paper over.
The headline read: BRILLANT SCIENTIST KILLED IN BIZARRE LAB ACCIDENT.
"At least they got the brilliant part right," Rodney said. He tried to sound calm, but he felt a little sick, looking at the black and white photo of himself hovering above the caption 'the late Dr. Rodney McKay'. "Of course, genius would have been better."
He quickly read through the article, and then irritably tossed the paper aside.
"What's wrong?" John asked him, still watching him with those large intense eyes.
"No one is getting prosecuted for killing me!" he shouted. "It was that worm Kavanagh, I'm sure; he'd probably been planning it for years, and then the morons rule it an accident! An accident!"
"Maybe it was," John said. "Maybe it was gravelings."
"Gravelings?" Rodney asked. He was supposed to know everything about everything, but he just wasn't up on undead slang.
John nodded. "The things that make bad things happen," he said, before glancing at his clock and getting back to his feet. "We've got to run," he said. "We're going to be late."
-----
They were the last ones there. Ronon was huddled over a plate of bacon and eggs, stabbing at his food and then shoveling it into his mouth. Daniel was poking at a bowl of oatmeal and Jack was taking up a whole bench, sitting with his legs out and sorting through a pile of post-its.
John pushed Jack's legs off the edge and then slid in beside him. Rodney sat down reluctantly and tried not to watch Ronon eat.
"How's the newbie?" Jack asked, without so much as sparing Rodney a glance.
"He cleans up nice enough," John said, and flashed Rodney a grin.
Jack just snorted and stuck a post-it on the table in front of John. "I want you to take him with you today, teach him the ropes."
"I had him all yesterday," John said. He glanced at Rodney. "No offense or anything."
"Oh, none taken," Rodney snapped. He looked across at Daniel. "Are you going to eat that or what?"
"What?" Daniel asked distractedly, before glancing up and staring at Rodney like they'd never met.
"The oatmeal," Rodney said, for clarification. "Are you going to eat it or not?"
"Oh," Daniel said. He slid it across to Rodney. "You can have it if you want."
Rodney dug in without being told twice, and John rolled his eyes. "New reapers always screw things up," John said, turning to Jack. "Don't you remember what happened when you made me teach Daniel the ropes?"
"Hey," Daniel said, leaning forward. "It was a perfectly understandable mistake."
"Shouting 'hey watch out'?" John asked disbelievingly.
"It was instinct," Daniel told him sulkily. "I can't help it."
"Which is why I'm stuck keeping an eye on Daniel," Jack said. "And why you're stuck with the new kid."
"What about Ronon?" John asked. They all looked to Ronon, who grunted at them and went back to his food. John sighed. "Okay, fine. Looks like you're riding shotgun, McKay."
"Doctor," Rodney said.
"Not anymore," John said.
"Must you keep bringing that up?" Rodney demanded.
"For as long as you keep forgetting," John told him, and then picked up his post-it. "Let's go. We've got an early appointment today."
-----
"So where are we going?" Rodney demanded as he fought to keep up.
John had been completely unreasonable and refused to let him finish his oatmeal. He'd just grabbed his arm and started dragging him along. He reached into his pocket and handed Rodney the post-it.
"M. Sumner. Corner of Norad and Pegasus. ETD: 8:40 a.m." Rodney blinked. "ETD? Estimated time of death? Is this all some cosmic joke, or something? Are you fucking kidding me with this? This is all you get?"
"The less we know the better," John said. "For instance, if I'd known what a little ray of sunshine you were, I might have found your death harder to watch."
"You're a bastard," Rodney told him.
John smirked. "I've just been at this awhile."
"How long?" Rodney asked curiously.
"You don't want to know," John said quickly. "I haven't been at it as long as Jack in any case. The man is ancient."
They made it to the spot five minutes ahead of schedule and John leaned against a brick wall and crossed his ankles, looking for all the world like he was just waiting out the end of a lunch break, and not waiting to help someone die.
"I don't think I can do this," Rodney said, feeling sick again. "I'm not really built to kill people."
"We're not assassins, McKay," John said wryly. "Unless thinking of us like assassins helps."
"It doesn't," Rodney snapped.
"Then think of us more like...I don't know...flight attendants for the dead. Please head this way, towards the lights, etc, etc."
"You're completely insane," Rodney told him.
"Sanity doesn't have much use when you're undead," he said. "Mostly I've found it to be counterproductive."
A man started towards them, and Rodney wouldn't have noticed him but for the way John pulled himself up straight the moment he came into view. "Sumner?" he asked, twisting his tone of voice into something oddly giddy and curious, with none of that sardonic wryness Rodney had quickly come to love. "Is that you?"
The man blinked and walked over to him. "Do I know you?"
"You're Sumner, right? Wow, I've heard stories about you, legends--it's...I can hardly believe I'm actually meeting you."
Rodney scrunched up his face at John, wondering what the hell he was going on about, but Sumner just gave a slight grin and stood up straighter. "You in the marines, son?"
"Used to be," John said. "Do you mind if I shake your hand?"
Sumner held his hand out. "You sure we never served together? You look familiar."
"Afraid not," John said. He took the man's arm at the wrist, and dragged his hand gently down; ripples and waves and light seemed to accompany the movement, and Rodney winced.
"I've got to be going," Sumner said. "Take care."
"Take care," John echoed, letting go. "Semper Fi."
Sumner nodded and headed off down the ally. Rodney saw someone in a black trench coat come out of the shadows and push Sumner against the wall, shouting for his wallet and his money.
"So you were a marine?" Rodney asked.
John watched the gun fire off and the bullet hit, splitting apart Sumner's heart with one shot. "No," he said. "I wasn't."
Sumner appeared beside them, bewildered, as the mugger fled from the corpse. "Am I dead?" he asked.
"Afraid so," John told him. Rodney just stared at Sumner's body, thinking about his own recent demise.
"Twenty five years of service," Sumner said, "and I get shot by some punk kid in an ally."
"Yeah," John said, carefully leading Sumner towards a shimmering blue mass. "Ain't life a bitch?"
-----
"You can't just leave me here--what the hell am I supposed to do?" Rodney yelled.
John sighed. "Look, McKay, you remember that nice apartment you stayed in last night? Well my landlord prefers me paying rent to letting me stay for free and in order to pay my rent, I have to work."
"This sucks," Rodney sulked. "I hate my life!"
John grinned. "You mean your death." He ruffled Rodney's hair, ignoring the outraged scowl and tossed a, "See you tonight," over his shoulder.
Rodney reached up, fixing his messed hair and looked around. John had left him in the middle of a busy mall; couples performing PDAs on his left, screaming children on his right. His day just kept getting better and better. "The least he could have done was lend me some money for lunch," he groused, hands just barely squeezing into his pockets as he headed towards the mall exit.
-----
Four hours later Rodney was at his wits end. He had no where to go, couldn't go home to his own house, couldn't go back to the lab, had no idea where John worked, where Jack, Daniel or Ronon spent their days, had no money...Fuck!
Rodney ran his hands through his hair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, John was standing inches away, grinning with amusement. "Hey, Rodney," he drawled.
"Oh thank GOD!" Rodney breathed, grabbing John by the arm. "I am starving!" John chuckled. "I am hypoglycemic--I have to eat every few hours or I could die!" John rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Fine, fine, yes I know--already dead, got that but that's totally beside the point. It's been hours."
John slung an arm around Rodney's shoulder, leading him down the street. "So, how was your day?"
"Dreadful," Rodney snorted.
"It'll get better," John assured with a wink that had Rodney's stomach fluttering.
"Can we eat now?" Rodney asked.
"I could eat," John grinned, pulling his arm away and Rodney ignored the pang of disappointment at the loss of contact. "There's a great little place just down the street."
___
The next morning Rodney woke with a shriek when he rolled right off the side of John's couch. John grinned down at him as he lay staring at the ceiling. "Morning, sunshine."
Rodney grunted, lifting an arm for John to help him up. He groaned as the muscles in his back twinged. "I died--shouldn't that make me exempt from things like bad backs and sore muscles?"
John laughed, patting his back and turning towards the kitchen. "Coffee?"
Rodney perked up at that, following John into the kitchen and wrapping his hands around the steaming mug John held out. Inhaling deeply he took a large gulp, sighing as he felt the caffeine hitting his system. "I think I love you," he said earnestly, staring into the mug.
"I love you too, McKay," John snorted.
"I was talking to the coffee," Rodney growled.
___
When they arrived at O'Malley's, Ronon was halfway through his usual breakfast, Daniel was sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. John and Rodney slid into the booth opposite Daniel. "Where's Jack?" John asked.
"Running late," Daniel answered absently.
Janet came over, smiling brightly. "What can I get you boys?"
They ordered and Rodney muttered endearments into his coffee mug again while John just shook his head. Ronon growled when John stole a piece of bacon but otherwise didn't stop him. Rodney eyed Ronon's plate, his hand creeping closer towards the lone sausage left. He yelped in pain when Ronon stabbed him with his fork, clutching his hand to his chest, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Why didn't you stab John?"
John snickered beside him, earning Rodney's glare. Bumping his shoulder against Rodney's John pushed the rest of his hash browns towards him. Rodney huffed and then quirked a grin at John. "Thanks."
"Gotta keep your strength up," John winked. "Today's your first reap."
Rodney paled, swallowing thickly before pushing the plate back towards John, "Suddenly I'm not really all that hungry." John threw him a worried glance but didn't comment.
"Good morning campers!" Jack's cheerful voice called as he walked towards them.
"Is he always like this?" Rodney asked with a frown.
"Pretty much," Daniel shrugged, sliding over in the booth to make room for Jack.
Rubbing his hands together, Jack smiled at Janet. "Coffee and your biggest bowl of oatmeal."
Daniel, John and Ronon all stared at him. "You feeling okay, Jack?"
"Just peachy."
John's brow wrinkled. "You don't eat oatmeal...ever."
"It's good to be open to new experiences," Jack said seriously. Opening the day planner in front of him he slapped post-it notes down in front of Ronon and John.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"
"You, Danny boy--have the day off." Jack clapped him on the shoulder.
Daniel grinned maniacally as he shoved Jack out of the booth. "See you guys later."
Shaking his head Jack yelled, "Stay out of trouble." John and Ronon snorted.
Turning back towards Rodney, Jack folded his hands in front of him. Rodney shifted uncomfortably under the steady gaze. Jack peeled off a post-it from his day planner and placed it carefully in front of Rodney. Rodney swallowed. Jack leaned back, placing a hand along the back of the seat as he turned to John. "You're babysitting again today," he said with a grin that showed none of the intensity from the previous moment.
"Aw man," John groaned.
Rodney stared at the post-it in front of him, not touching it. F. Collins. Spring Garden and Fifth. ETD: 3:27 p.m. Taking a deep breath, and tearing his eyes from the post-it he looked at Jack. "So what happens if I'm not there at 3:27?"
Jack's eyes hardened. "You'll be there."
Rodney nodded. "Yes, yes but what if I'm not?"
John cleared his throat, pushing on Rodney's arm and sliding out behind him. "He'll be there." He smiled charmingly at Jack, patting Ronon on the shoulder before hustling Rodney out of O'Malley's and into the warm summer air.
"Trust me, you do not wanna piss Jack off," John said in a low voice, grabbing Rodney's wrist and pulling him down the street.
"I tend to piss most people off," Rodney stated matter-of-factly. "Besides--I like to understand things and if I'm going to be the star in ‘night of the living dead’ I'd like to have all the facts."
John smirked. "You're just going to have to learn as you go."
"I hate that," Rodney muttered.
"So," John grinned. "We've got some time to kill."
"What time is your--"
"Not till later tonight," John said quickly. "So...job hunting?"
Rodney frowned. "Did you get fired?"
Rolling his eyes, John sighed. "Not for me, McKay--you're going to need to get a job too."
Rodney pursed his lips in what looked like a pout. "But I like being a kept man."
John snorted and shoved Rodney, throwing him off balance and laughing when Rodney threw him a crooked grin.
__
At 1:30, after totally blowing off the job search, John's eyes had lit up when they passed an amusement park. "They have a Ferris Wheel!" John was practically bouncing. Rodney gave a well practiced, long suffering sigh and let John pull him towards the ride, shaking his head as John's grin just kept getting bigger the closer they got.
By 2:00 Rodney was nauseated from four trips around the Ferris wheel and had to bodily drag John away, feeling vaguely guilty at John's pout of disappointment. He made it up to him by borrowing some money from John and then buying him a stuffed penguin. "I don't do sports," Rodney explained.
John chuckled. "I don't think you can really call the ring toss a sport." But he clutched the penguin close, grinning happily beside Rodney as they left the amusement park.
___
They were on Spring Garden by 3:00 and Rodney was, by that point, ready to offer John anything. "Seriously--I'll get the next one. I promise."
John shook his head. "Rodney--it's your post-it."
"So?" Rodney snapped in frustration.
"You're the only one that can reap F. Collins."
"Have I mentioned how much this fucking sucks?" Rodney bitched.
"Numerous times," John said wryly.
Rodney sighed beside him, looking around at the unsuspecting peons scurrying around them. A familiar, wild tuft of hair caught his attention. "Radek!" Rodney yelled, squeaking when John shoved him against the side of a building, pressing his lips to Rodney's.
When John pulled back his eyes were dark. "What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed.
Rodney's brain was still stuck on John kissing him. "Huh?"
"You're dead, Rodney--dead. You need to break off all ties with your old life." John's voice was quiet and serious.
Rodney swallowed and nodded. "Sorry, sorry--I...I wasn't thinking."
John sighed, as he pulled back. "I know--just--aw, damn." Rodney blinked as John bent down in front of him. "You made me drop Steve."
"Steve?" Rodney frowned.
John dusted off the penguin, holding it in front of Rodney's face. "Steve." John tucked the penguin under his arm and headed towards Fifth, Rodney hurrying to catch up.
"So," Rodney smiled smugly, "you kissed me."
John glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "No I didn't."
"Oh, yes--you did." Rodney was humming to himself, hands in his pockets.
Shaking his head, John snorted. "So Radek wouldn't see you."
Rodney scoffed. "Hello--" he waved a hand towards himself, "he wouldn't recognize me anyway."
John looked at him pointedly. "I think the arm waving would have caught his attention."
__
At 3:20 Rodney couldn't breathe. "I can't kill anyone."
"Rodney--we've been over this."
"I don't care!" Rodney shouted, lowering his voice when John stepped closer. "I can't do this."
"Yes, you can," John said calmly. "All you have to do is touch the guy."
"Are you insane?" Rodney hissed. "All I have is a god damned first initial! What if Frank and fucking Flo Collins are standing beside each other?! Which one do I fucking take?!" Rodney's hands were clenched into fists. "This is so fucked up."
"Breathe Rodney," John squeezed the back of his neck. "This is the way things have been for a very long time--it works, trust me."
At 3:23 Fred Collins dropped his wallet in front of Rodney. Bending down Rodney glanced at the man's driver's license. "Excuse me, you dropped this."
Frank turned around, a smile on his face. "Shit, thanks--" Rodney's hand brushed Collins' wrist as the man reached for the wallet, leaving a tingle in Rodney's fingertips. Shaking his head with a confused frown Collins' looked back at Rodney nodding with a grin. "Thanks again."
Rodney took a deep breath, closing his eyes when the busker juggling lit batons slipped in the ice cream the snot nosed little girl had dropped, missing the twirling mass of fire as it plummeted back towards the ground.
John placed a hand on Rodney's shoulder and turned him away from the screaming Collins as he went up in flames. "You okay?"
Rodney turned blue eyes towards John. "No."
“Oh wow,” Fred said beside them, staring at the still smoking remains of his former body. “Is that--?”
John nodded.
“So now what?” Fred asked, turning wide eyes towards them.
Rodney gestured with a nod of his head. “I think that’s your ride.” Behind Fred was a shimmering blue vision of cliffs and water and clouds. Fred’s smile was wide as he stepped closer and Rodney said, “What’s on the other side?”
John watched beside him. “I have no idea.”
Fred waved as he stepped into the light, disappearing from their eyes. Rodney sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “That--is very disconcerting.”
John laughed and started down the street. “Are you hungry?”
With one last look at the place Fred Collins had disappeared Rodney shrugged and fell in step beside John. “I could eat.”
Next in the series: Dead Man Walking.