Fic: 7 McShep Fusions I'm Not Writing - Beetlejuice (II)
Title: 7 McShep Fusions I'm Not Writing - Beetlejuice
Author: Cypher
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Main Character(s): John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Lorne
Warnings: Slash, Fusion AU
Rating: R
Summary: “John Sheppard thought he had a pretty good life.”
Author's Notes: So this is something I've been working on for a while and, really, don't know if I'll ever finish. So! Since it's part of what started this whole fusion chain, it's only right it should finish it. Unbetaed. Enjoy!
14 Valentines: Day 14 - V-Day and International
An opportunity presented itself within a month, when Radek came by to spend a few nights while running lab simulations with McKay. John didn’t want to reveal his presence to the man, but he could still hang around the lab and screw with McKay to the point that Radek thought he was nuts. It was a good plan, one that had him grinning and rubbing his hands together. He let them have dinner hassle-free, but made sure to be in the lab sitting on top of the large mainframe against the wall facing the door.
The sour face McKay threw him upon entering was worth the climb up (one of these days he’d master levitation, but he hadn’t gotten the hang of it yet). Legs spread wide and hands planted in front of him, he kicked his feet and fiddled with the dials absently, humming an idle tune and pretending to ignore the dark glares McKay kept shooting him.
“You are grinding teeth. Is computer being stupid?”
“No,” McKay ground out. “The ghost is annoying me.”
John sat up at that. He didn’t expect Rodney to admit his existence so easily.
“Ah,” Radek said knowingly, adjusting his glasses. “What is he doing now. Stopping simulations? Pouring salt in drink? Or maybe turning off monitors.”
John’s grin widened. From the tone, it sounded to John as if Radek didn’t believe Rodney. He stuck his tongue out at Rodney, then started humming ‘It’s a Small World.’
“Oh my god! You are the most juvenile specter I’ve ever met! Do me a favor and throw yourself to the worms!” Rodney stormed in front of the mainframe, hands landing on hips and glare aimed firmly up at John.
“Please, ghost,” Radek didn’t look up from where he was typing something. “If you must annoy Rodney, do so when he is not entertaining. He is most difficult to control without your disruptions.”
“Oh please! I can think rings around you even if this idiot is bothering me!” He swiped at one of John’s legs, then stomped back to his workstation. “You just want to buy time to catch up!”
“Yes, I am slow as slug. It must be so trying for you to slow down for me.”
“You’re just jealous.” Rodney glared at John one last time, then started typing.
John sat there a moment longer, then hopped down and walked around the lab, touching random objects that made Rodney tense up. By the time John was standing behind Rodney’s monitor, McKay’s neck had almost vanished between his hunched shoulders. Grinning widely, John reached over the screen and hovered his finger just above it, waving it back and forth. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”
The grind of Rodney’s teeth was audible even to Radek, who looked up and blinked. “He is annoying, yes?”
“Yes,” Rodney ground out. “The most annoying creature I have ever encountered. More annoying than Kavanagh.” His voice was stiff, all barely controlled anger, and John responded by adding a second finger, walking them across the screen.
“There is nothing more annoying than Kavanagh. He is personification of annoyance.”
“Then this is the ghost of it.” A muscle on Rodney’s neck twitched, just barely visible between the blue fabric of the shirt.
“Then maybe call priestess again, yes?” A note of glee entered Radek’s voice. “The pretty one, with black hair?”
“She’s a medium, and I’m not calling her just so you can drool all over my house! You think I didn’t see you panting when she came to get rid of the last ghost?”
“She is pretty,” Radek’s face was turning red. “But I was not panting. Nor do I drool. You do, in your sleep. And when you see espresso beans.”
“They’re better than sex, you’re lucky I don’t do worse.” He waved at John’s arm, a futile attempt to bat it away. “Fine! If you promise not to turn into a teenage pervert I’ll call her! And you! Get away from my screen!” He slapped the monitor. “Or I’m getting that sledgehammer!”
John kept grinning as he moved over to the wall and slouched against it, crossing his arms and jutting his hips out. Rodney stared at him through narrow eyes for another minute, then got back to work. John kept glancing over to Radek, who obviously did believe in ghosts, or maybe believed in them to meet women. Either way, a medium was coming, and John had to admit to himself that he was curious.
Maybe he could convince her to help Rodney move out.
~*()*~
John was awoken by a doors slamming. That in of itself wasn’t unusual, Rodney was prone to violence against doors when upset. What was unusual was that it was three am, and McKay was always in bed by then. Scrubbing his eyes, John made his way upstairs, heard another door slam, and then nothing. Looking out the kitchen window, John saw Lorne’s car pull away at breakneck speed, and John frowned. Lorne didn’t voluntarily come to the house anymore, and at three am…
More awake now, John made his way around the house and found lights on, the bedroom and library in full disarray, and a trail of paperwork that McKay must’ve dropped in his hurry. The optimistic part of John was cheering, saying that McKay finally realized how terrible living with a disruptive ghost could be and bailed. Except he wouldn’t bail at three am, and Lorne wouldn’t be driving them. John shook his head and told his optimistic side to shut up. Something was wrong, something that couldn’t wait and as much as John didn’t like the guy, he didn’t exactly want to wish ill on the man’s family.
Unable to do anything, though, John headed back down to the basement and went back to sleep. He was willing to bet McKay would be ranting and raving about being woke in the middle of the night and let slip what the crisis was. Not that he really cared, John tried to tell himself as he pulled the blanket higher. He was just curious, that was all.
Come morning, however, John found the house just as empty, and stopped the coffee maker from brewing its second pot, a catastrophe in the making since the first was still full and waiting to be drunk. Staring at the brown liquid, a small sense of unease crept through John’s stomach. He didn’t care about McKay. He didn’t. But he’d also become accustomed to having someone around the house. It was weird, he’d never needed anyone before, but now he didn’t like that he was alone.
Probably because a tiny part of his mind doubted he actually existed without Rodney’s very verbal validation.
By noon, John was almost finished cannibalizing his motorcycle when he heard banging and curses upstairs. He could tell it wasn’t McKay, because the stomps were wrong, and despite the war between them, John really didn’t want anyone breaking into his house (even if it wasn’t technically his anymore). Running upstairs, he found the lab door open and the thief in question inside.
Except the thief was actually Lorne, in full military getup. “Lorne?” He said it before he thought, and tried not to wince as Lorne not only didn’t hear him, but dove right through him looking for something. John watched him scurry around the lab, gather half a dozen removable hard drives, then jog towards the door. With one hand, he flipped open his cell phone, and John jogged beside him to listen in.
“Doc, I got ‘em. How long before critical?”
John didn’t hear the reply because he hit the wall beside the front door, unable to move farther. That was fine, though, because he was more shaken by what Lorne said than anything else. He’d seen some of the work McKay and Radek were working on. Reactors, radiation…and it didn’t take his savant abilities in math to know that any accident involving that technology would wipe this place off the map of the US. Sitting down hard on the couch, John stared at the television, and wondered what would happen if he no longer had a house to haunt.
Sleep didn’t come to him, so John wandered around the house, eventually ending up in the library on the futon looking out into his backyard. It was one of the few things McKay hadn’t ruined after buying the house. In fact, he had it immaculately kept by three gardeners that were obviously more than just gardeners because John had seen them take soil samples and run chemical analysis right there in the yard.
It was the second day of Rodney’s absence, and normally those three gardeners were here, working on the yard. Instead, it was quiet save for the sounds of nature. John wondered if they’d been evacuated, if the whole town was empty except for a select few--including McKay--trying to prevent a meltdown. After a few hours of watching the birds dancing nervously about the yard, he got up, went downstairs, and picked up the phone, looking down McKay’s list of contacts.
It wasn’t until he dialed Carter’s number (he figured she’d recognize his voice) that he realized even if he got hold of somebody, McKay’s work was classified, and more importantly, he was dead. John could be screaming into the phone, and unless it was McKay that picked up, no one would hear him. Hell, even if McKay picked up there was no guarantee his ghost voice would travel across phone lines. Sighing, he hung up on the fourth ring, made his way back to the basement, and sat against his unfinished airplane.
If the end of the city was coming, he wanted to spend it with his pride and joy.
~*()*~
At some point, John realized he must’ve fallen asleep, because he heard a car, and then a weary voice come from upstairs, followed by an almost subdued shut of the front door. Getting up, John tried to look as nonchalant as possible as he walked upstairs and through the kitchen. He was expecting a ranting and raving Rodney, even after three days. He absolutely was not expecting to see this vulnerable, hollow man standing just inside the door looking lost.
It actually made John pause. Something had happened, something big and horrible, from the looks of things. He was willing to bet if he struck now, he could hurt McKay, hurt him badly enough that he’d want to leave and John would have the house to himself again. It was the perfect opportunity, the moment he’d been waiting for ever since he’d first seen the man. All he had to do was smirk and say something cutting and it’d be done. A swift and final victory in John’s little war.
He ended up walking over quietly and placing a hand just above McKay’s shoulder, mouth turned down, eyes wide. “McKay?”
Rodney’s blue eyes didn’t lose their glazed look, but they did focus on him somewhat. “Oh. Hi.” It sounded as if Rodney had forgotten John even existed. He glanced at John’s hand, and John pulled it back. Rodney looked at him again, blinking absently. “Hi,” he said again, obviously at a loss for words.
Apparently, John had lost his ability to go for the jugular after all this time. “You okay?” John prepped himself for scathing remarks over how McKay was obviously NOT okay, could he be any more blind, and why was he asking stupid questions?
“No,” was all Rodney said, frowning. “I need,” he glanced around, then felt the pockets of his jeans. “Keys. I put my keys…”
John knelt down and picked up the items in question from the floor, where Rodney must have dropped them. “You’re already inside.”
Rodney took the keys, looked for the one to the front door, before John could see his words register. “Oh. Right. Cause you can’t…” He waved back towards the door, before letting his arm hang limply. “Can we not,” he started, then stopped. Rodney’s face contorted, as if in pain for a moment. “I need sleep,” he finally said.
“You wanna go upstairs?” Rodney glanced past John, and the aggrieved look on his face was more than enough to convey how much he didn’t want to tackle stairs at the moment. “Or, you know, the couch is a foot to your left.”
Rodney nodded quietly, shrugged out of his black coat (military issue, from the looks of things), took two steps, then fell face first onto the couch, legs dangling over the armrest. John rolled his eyes, but walked over and pushed the coffee table back a few inches so Rodney wouldn’t roll over and hit it. When he turned around, Rodney was looking at him. “What?”
“You’ve been nice.”
John snorted. “I’ve been known to be. Especially when people aren’t assholes.”
The hint obviously didn’t penetrate Rodney’s mind. “Please leave.”
“What, no thank you?”
“I really,” and Rodney’s voice broke, wet and hurt and painful for one moment, “need to be alone.”
John could understand that. So he bumped the table back another inch, then left the room. At the threshold to the basement, he thought he heard sobbing coming from the living room, but it could just as well have been a stray cat. And as far as John was concerned, that’s all it was. He could respect a man’s need to cry in privacy, even if it was the heartless Rodney McKay.
Except now he didn’t seem quite so heartless after all.
~*()*~
John didn’t venture forth from his basement until well past noon. The coffee maker was still unplugged, but since John hadn’t been woken by a screaming McKay, he figured the man was still asleep. Just in case, though, he dumped out the old coffee and plugged the machine back in. He paused, as he realized this could be construed as being nice, then realized that Rodney didn’t think about coffee, just made sure it was prepped to be made for him every night.
Glancing into the living room, he found Rodney exactly as John left him the night before. Legs dangling over the end of the couch (though at some point Rodney had kicked his shoes off), lying on his belly, and head turned to the side with a little puddle of drool lying in front of his nose. It was rather disgusting, and John was willing to bet the man would be grousing about his back as soon as he woke up.
An hour later, when John was pouring a cup of coffee out of habit--not for McKay, it was habit, dammit--and staring out the kitchen window, he heard a grunt, and then pained grumbling. John turned just in time to see a barely-awake Rodney lumber in, eyes squinting and mouth scowling at the world. He plucked the cup John was holding and downed it in one long gulp before shoving the cup back at John.
John caught it at the last minute, and raised an eyebrow at Rodney. “You drank my coffee.”
“You’re dead. You need coffee like I need Kavanagh.” With that quip, he shuffled over to the coffee pot, pulled it off the hot plate, and drank from it as if it was a giant cup. John stared, wondering how the man wasn’t burning both his hands and lips. After finishing it, he set it down, let out something between a burp and a hiccup, and set about replacing the filter for a new pot.
Setting the cup on the counter, John moved so he was beside Rodney, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. “So, wild night?” Rodney’s hands froze for a moment, and when they resumed, John could see the faintest tremble in them. McKay said nothing, intently focused on getting the grounds into the filter. “That bad, huh?”
Rodney slammed the filter basket into the maker. “I don’t--can’t you go away?!” The faint trembles had become tremors, almost full-on shakiness. “I’m not in the mood-”
“When did you last eat?” John let his arms unfold as he stood up, a concerned frown appearing.
“-for your--what?” Rodney listed back as his head snapped up. “I…a while. I had a power bar last…I…” Rodney leaned against the counter, then slowly slid to the floor. “I need-”
John had already pulled a power bar out of Rodney’s emergency stash drawer and was kneeling before the scientist, pressing the thing into McKay’s hand. “Here. Eat.” It took a few minutes, but Rodney finally got the package open and was stuffing his face. Somewhere between the sixth and seventh bites, John heard a muffled “thanks” escape. “Rodney, what happened?” He kept his tone completely serious. He’d never seen Rodney like this, and he was…well, not worried (never worried, he didn’t care about McKay!), but it wasn’t normal.
And John didn’t like disruptions to his world; at least, not disruptions that destroyed the status quo.
Rodney swallowed heavily, hand crushing the wrapper remains. “There…I can’t. It’s highly classified-”
“Who am I going to tell, McKay? I’m dead.”
Rodney stared at him, eventually looking away towards the floor. He was silent, and John abruptly realized he missed the steady beat of a clock. Every clock in Rodney’s house was digital, and it was disconcerting to John not to have a steady ’tic-tic-tic’ during this heavy pause.
“I work…I work on a lot of projects,” Rodney finally answered. “One of them, a reactor, started to go critical. It shouldn’t--if I’d been there, it wouldn’t have--I mean, it might’ve, but I’d have-”
“Rodney,” John kept his voice quiet but firm, a grounding agent.
“We almost lost Colorado. And part of Utah--but who cares about Utah? Most useless state I’ve ever been to. You know there’s more sheep-”
“Than people. I know, McKay. What. Happened?” Rodney wouldn’t have been so shaken up, so vulnerable as he had been last night, unless something big had happened.
Rodney went silent again, but his breathing had changed. Sharp, painful breaths that sounded to be on the verge of tears. “Markham. He and I…” He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “There was a power surge coming, and we got out, but Gaul was still…he went in to drag him out and…”
John had a feeling he knew what was coming. “Did they make it?”
The hand clenched around the power bar wrapper pounded the floor. “He’s an idiot! I told him not to go back, that it was too dangerous!”
“He was doing his job.”
“And what the hell was Brendan doing?! I told everyone to clear out, but he didn’t listen! He never listens! Listened!” Another shuddering breath. “And Markham…he was a pain in my ass, but he made sure I ate, and listened to me rant, and drove me home that one time I was on uppers…”
A friend. And John was willing to bet this Brendan was one on some level, or at least someone Rodney knew well. He reached over to give Rodney’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and his hand passed right through McKay’s body. “They…at least you saved everyone in Colorado.”
“They shouldn’t have died,” Rodney said bitterly. “My scientists aren’t supposed to die. And Markham wasn’t even on duty. He just heard the alarm and came and…and…oh god. Brendan and Markham…” McKay violently shuddered, and he put his head between his knees. “They were burned. I saw…christ, their organs liquefied and they died all because I wasn’t…I couldn’t-”
“Hey, hey. You did everything you could. You can’t blame yourself.”
Rodney’s head snapped up, unshed tears awash in his burning gaze. “It was MY PROJECT that killed them! I figured out the math! I designed the reactor chamber! I was called in to FIX the damned thing! And now two of my friends are DEAD! So excuse me if I’m having a little freak out!”
Right, John reminded himself. Rodney worked for the military, but he wasn’t in the military, he didn’t have the training. Death wasn’t something he was trained to cope with. And while John could try reasoning with the one man John considered thoroughly unreasonable under ideal circumstances, he figured someone corporeal might be more what Rodney needed right now.
Getting up, John squatted so he was still eye-level with Rodney. “Where’s Radak?”
Rodney shook again. “He slept. Over the three days. I didn’t, so he’s…they sent me home and he said he’d call if there was trouble, but I was making mistakes and, and…”
John searched his memory. “What about Carson?”
“Busy. There was radiation poisoning and more burns and-”
“Right, right. Okay.” Rodney went silent again, taking deep breaths between his knees. John stood and made his way back to the living room. He stared at the phone, and contemplated what to do. Radek and Carson, Rodney’s friends, were busy--and he was willing to bet Carter was as well (from what he’d overheard in Rodney’s discussions with Radek, anyways). Rodney needed a friend, but Rodney’s friends weren’t available. Knowing it was a long shot and he’d probably regret this, he picked up the phone and dialed the only number he could think of.
~*()*~
It took only twenty minutes for the front door to slam open, and John made sure to leave the phone right by McKay so it’d look like he was the one that called. As soon as he heard the footsteps, John retreated from Rodney’s sight, hiding. It wasn’t like he needed to, no one but Rodney could see him. Still, he just felt it’d be better if he was out of the way for this.
“Jesus, McKay.” Lorne squatted. “Doc, you okay?”
“Major,” Rodney’s voice was confused, and he blinked owlishly. “How…why are you…”
“You called me. You didn’t say anything, but I have caller ID.” Lorne put an arm under Rodney’s and the other around his torso. “Come on, Doc. Let’s get you to bed.”
“I can do it.” Rodney tried to shove Lorne away, and nearly cracked his chin on the counter when his legs practically collapsed.
Lorne grimaced. “Why don’t we keep that between us, sir.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Rodney’s gaze roamed around the room, and John made sure to duck out of view as they passed him. “Thanks,” he said, and John knew it wasn’t directed at Lorne.
“You’d do the--well, I owe you. You did save all our asses.”
“Not all of them,” Rodney muttered darkly.
“Markham knew what he was doing, sir.” Rodney didn’t respond, letting Lorne lead him out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. John came out of his hiding place, standing right next to the doorway behind the wall.
“Listen, uh, about what I said…sorry.”
“It was a tense situation, sir. Barking orders was fine-”
“Not yesterday. I mean, um, after I bought…I’m sorry.”
John closed his eyes, somehow knowing the apology was not only very rare, but very real.
“Shep was a good guy,” Lorne finally said.
“Yeah,” Rodney responded. “I’m starting to get that. I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t know him.”
“You would’ve hated him, Doc.” John heard a small smile in Lorne’s voice. “He had this drawl that would drive you nuts.”
“Markham drove me nuts.”
“Yeah.” The smile was gone from the man’s voice. “He did.”
There was a hitched breath. “I wish-”
“We all do, Doc. But take it from a guy who’s seen action: put it out of your mind. Just for a day or two. I’ll call and see when Carson can come over.”
“Don’t--I mean, I want--he’ll be just as tired. Let him rest.”
Lorne let out a sigh. “For an asshole, you’re a good guy, Doc.”
“For a brain-dead grunt, you’d make a half-decent minion.”
John heard Lorne chuckle. “Now I know you’re tired. You got some sedatives or something?”
“I’ll be fine, Major. The coffee I had is barely keeping me awake.”
John left the doorway to return to the garage. At least they weren’t at each other’s throats. Lorne, John reflected, was a good choice. He knew his friend wouldn’t let him down, even if it meant dealing with the most vicious, vile man in the world.
Which wasn’t, John was realizing, Rodney McKay at all. He was arrogant, annoying, rude, and a jerk…but this new side, this tired, caring side…it threw John.
Shutting the garage door, he leaned against it, hands behind his back. Maybe, just maybe, he’d have to rethink exactly how much he really wanted McKay gone. He really wasn’t such a bad guy, not when it came down to it.
Just to be sure, though, he’d sleep off the adrenaline (or whatever ghosts had in place of adrenaline) and see how things looked after a nap.
~*()*~
When John came out in the evening, he found Lorne asleep on the couch, the sports channel showing some college football game. John couldn’t help but grin, and he vowed to keep his buddy company just as soon as he checked in on McKay. He wanted to see if the prickly asshole had returned or not.
He found Rodney sitting up in bed, writing something on a legal pad. At John’s entrance he looked up. “He still asleep?”
John shut the door quietly. “Yup.”
“He only left two hours before me. You probably woke him.”
“Ah.”
Rodney turned his attention back to the notepad. “Thanks. For calling him. I really needed--not that you aren’t--but--thanks.”
“No problem, McKay.” John put his hands on his hips. “So what’re you-”
“Eulogies. I planned on outliving Gaul, but mocking his incompetence now seems…” Rodney crossed something off, before putting both paper and pen down, shoulders slumping. “I don’t even know what to say about Markham. I didn’t even know his first name.”
John let his arms drop. “I’m sure it’ll come to you. You’re a genius.” Rodney looked back up, eyes narrowing slightly. John shifted his nonexistent weight from one foot to the others, stuffing a hand into his pocket. “So I was thinking…” Rodney sat up, crossing his arms; though it seemed less arrogant then when he usually assumed that position. “Maybe…you aren’t such a bad guy. I mean, your coffee smells great, and the house is pretty big-”
“I’m still calling the medium.” Rodney let out a huff through his nose. “It’s a thank you,” he said to John’s appalled look. “You,” he waved a hand towards the door, “you know, helped. Were nice and…and maybe she can help you leave. Find that place beyond.”
“I don’t really wanna go there.” John made a face. “I’ve seen the beyond. It’s not very--am I supposed to be telling you?”
“Not according to your manual.” Rodney looked down. “I just thought you might like to…find your reward or something. She’s good at that.”
John thought about it for a minute. It would be nice to get his ‘reward’, assuming it was something other than working in the dead secretarial pool. “Alright. Not like I can move on unless I want to.” A guilty look crossed Rodney’s face, and John remembered that Rodney had dealt with ghosts before; possibly with an excommunicator. “I can’t-”
“Not with her, no. She’s made that very clear.”
“Well, then I’m fine with her coming.” John crossed his arms.
“Fine.”
“Fine.” They remained silent a minute, only the faint noise of the TV breaking the quiet. “You know, Lorne isn’t such a bad guy.”
Rodney sighed. “For a geologist,” he said, mouth twisting on the last word. “It’s not even a hard science.”
“Really? I thought rocks were-”
“If you finish that sentence I’m throwing my pen at you.” He waved dismissively. “Go. I can hear the football from here. Leave me to my words and thoughts and ways to make the marines forgive me for making their own cry.”
“Cool.” John opened the door. “And, uh, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you…”
Rodney nodded, picking up his notepad. “I don’t really want to-”
“Yeah, cool. I’ll just…”
“Try not to spook Lorne.”
“Right, right.” John slipped out and shut the door. All in all, not a bad conversation. Heading back downstairs, he took his usual position on the couch and relaxed, ready to tune out the world and tune in to football.
There was a tiny part of his mind, though, that was infinitely curious about who this medium was, and how on some level, he couldn’t wait to meet her.
~*()*~
Author: Cypher
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Main Character(s): John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Lorne
Warnings: Slash, Fusion AU
Rating: R
Summary: “John Sheppard thought he had a pretty good life.”
Author's Notes: So this is something I've been working on for a while and, really, don't know if I'll ever finish. So! Since it's part of what started this whole fusion chain, it's only right it should finish it. Unbetaed. Enjoy!
14 Valentines: Day 14 - V-Day and International
An opportunity presented itself within a month, when Radek came by to spend a few nights while running lab simulations with McKay. John didn’t want to reveal his presence to the man, but he could still hang around the lab and screw with McKay to the point that Radek thought he was nuts. It was a good plan, one that had him grinning and rubbing his hands together. He let them have dinner hassle-free, but made sure to be in the lab sitting on top of the large mainframe against the wall facing the door.
The sour face McKay threw him upon entering was worth the climb up (one of these days he’d master levitation, but he hadn’t gotten the hang of it yet). Legs spread wide and hands planted in front of him, he kicked his feet and fiddled with the dials absently, humming an idle tune and pretending to ignore the dark glares McKay kept shooting him.
“You are grinding teeth. Is computer being stupid?”
“No,” McKay ground out. “The ghost is annoying me.”
John sat up at that. He didn’t expect Rodney to admit his existence so easily.
“Ah,” Radek said knowingly, adjusting his glasses. “What is he doing now. Stopping simulations? Pouring salt in drink? Or maybe turning off monitors.”
John’s grin widened. From the tone, it sounded to John as if Radek didn’t believe Rodney. He stuck his tongue out at Rodney, then started humming ‘It’s a Small World.’
“Oh my god! You are the most juvenile specter I’ve ever met! Do me a favor and throw yourself to the worms!” Rodney stormed in front of the mainframe, hands landing on hips and glare aimed firmly up at John.
“Please, ghost,” Radek didn’t look up from where he was typing something. “If you must annoy Rodney, do so when he is not entertaining. He is most difficult to control without your disruptions.”
“Oh please! I can think rings around you even if this idiot is bothering me!” He swiped at one of John’s legs, then stomped back to his workstation. “You just want to buy time to catch up!”
“Yes, I am slow as slug. It must be so trying for you to slow down for me.”
“You’re just jealous.” Rodney glared at John one last time, then started typing.
John sat there a moment longer, then hopped down and walked around the lab, touching random objects that made Rodney tense up. By the time John was standing behind Rodney’s monitor, McKay’s neck had almost vanished between his hunched shoulders. Grinning widely, John reached over the screen and hovered his finger just above it, waving it back and forth. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”
The grind of Rodney’s teeth was audible even to Radek, who looked up and blinked. “He is annoying, yes?”
“Yes,” Rodney ground out. “The most annoying creature I have ever encountered. More annoying than Kavanagh.” His voice was stiff, all barely controlled anger, and John responded by adding a second finger, walking them across the screen.
“There is nothing more annoying than Kavanagh. He is personification of annoyance.”
“Then this is the ghost of it.” A muscle on Rodney’s neck twitched, just barely visible between the blue fabric of the shirt.
“Then maybe call priestess again, yes?” A note of glee entered Radek’s voice. “The pretty one, with black hair?”
“She’s a medium, and I’m not calling her just so you can drool all over my house! You think I didn’t see you panting when she came to get rid of the last ghost?”
“She is pretty,” Radek’s face was turning red. “But I was not panting. Nor do I drool. You do, in your sleep. And when you see espresso beans.”
“They’re better than sex, you’re lucky I don’t do worse.” He waved at John’s arm, a futile attempt to bat it away. “Fine! If you promise not to turn into a teenage pervert I’ll call her! And you! Get away from my screen!” He slapped the monitor. “Or I’m getting that sledgehammer!”
John kept grinning as he moved over to the wall and slouched against it, crossing his arms and jutting his hips out. Rodney stared at him through narrow eyes for another minute, then got back to work. John kept glancing over to Radek, who obviously did believe in ghosts, or maybe believed in them to meet women. Either way, a medium was coming, and John had to admit to himself that he was curious.
Maybe he could convince her to help Rodney move out.
~*()*~
John was awoken by a doors slamming. That in of itself wasn’t unusual, Rodney was prone to violence against doors when upset. What was unusual was that it was three am, and McKay was always in bed by then. Scrubbing his eyes, John made his way upstairs, heard another door slam, and then nothing. Looking out the kitchen window, John saw Lorne’s car pull away at breakneck speed, and John frowned. Lorne didn’t voluntarily come to the house anymore, and at three am…
More awake now, John made his way around the house and found lights on, the bedroom and library in full disarray, and a trail of paperwork that McKay must’ve dropped in his hurry. The optimistic part of John was cheering, saying that McKay finally realized how terrible living with a disruptive ghost could be and bailed. Except he wouldn’t bail at three am, and Lorne wouldn’t be driving them. John shook his head and told his optimistic side to shut up. Something was wrong, something that couldn’t wait and as much as John didn’t like the guy, he didn’t exactly want to wish ill on the man’s family.
Unable to do anything, though, John headed back down to the basement and went back to sleep. He was willing to bet McKay would be ranting and raving about being woke in the middle of the night and let slip what the crisis was. Not that he really cared, John tried to tell himself as he pulled the blanket higher. He was just curious, that was all.
Come morning, however, John found the house just as empty, and stopped the coffee maker from brewing its second pot, a catastrophe in the making since the first was still full and waiting to be drunk. Staring at the brown liquid, a small sense of unease crept through John’s stomach. He didn’t care about McKay. He didn’t. But he’d also become accustomed to having someone around the house. It was weird, he’d never needed anyone before, but now he didn’t like that he was alone.
Probably because a tiny part of his mind doubted he actually existed without Rodney’s very verbal validation.
By noon, John was almost finished cannibalizing his motorcycle when he heard banging and curses upstairs. He could tell it wasn’t McKay, because the stomps were wrong, and despite the war between them, John really didn’t want anyone breaking into his house (even if it wasn’t technically his anymore). Running upstairs, he found the lab door open and the thief in question inside.
Except the thief was actually Lorne, in full military getup. “Lorne?” He said it before he thought, and tried not to wince as Lorne not only didn’t hear him, but dove right through him looking for something. John watched him scurry around the lab, gather half a dozen removable hard drives, then jog towards the door. With one hand, he flipped open his cell phone, and John jogged beside him to listen in.
“Doc, I got ‘em. How long before critical?”
John didn’t hear the reply because he hit the wall beside the front door, unable to move farther. That was fine, though, because he was more shaken by what Lorne said than anything else. He’d seen some of the work McKay and Radek were working on. Reactors, radiation…and it didn’t take his savant abilities in math to know that any accident involving that technology would wipe this place off the map of the US. Sitting down hard on the couch, John stared at the television, and wondered what would happen if he no longer had a house to haunt.
Sleep didn’t come to him, so John wandered around the house, eventually ending up in the library on the futon looking out into his backyard. It was one of the few things McKay hadn’t ruined after buying the house. In fact, he had it immaculately kept by three gardeners that were obviously more than just gardeners because John had seen them take soil samples and run chemical analysis right there in the yard.
It was the second day of Rodney’s absence, and normally those three gardeners were here, working on the yard. Instead, it was quiet save for the sounds of nature. John wondered if they’d been evacuated, if the whole town was empty except for a select few--including McKay--trying to prevent a meltdown. After a few hours of watching the birds dancing nervously about the yard, he got up, went downstairs, and picked up the phone, looking down McKay’s list of contacts.
It wasn’t until he dialed Carter’s number (he figured she’d recognize his voice) that he realized even if he got hold of somebody, McKay’s work was classified, and more importantly, he was dead. John could be screaming into the phone, and unless it was McKay that picked up, no one would hear him. Hell, even if McKay picked up there was no guarantee his ghost voice would travel across phone lines. Sighing, he hung up on the fourth ring, made his way back to the basement, and sat against his unfinished airplane.
If the end of the city was coming, he wanted to spend it with his pride and joy.
~*()*~
At some point, John realized he must’ve fallen asleep, because he heard a car, and then a weary voice come from upstairs, followed by an almost subdued shut of the front door. Getting up, John tried to look as nonchalant as possible as he walked upstairs and through the kitchen. He was expecting a ranting and raving Rodney, even after three days. He absolutely was not expecting to see this vulnerable, hollow man standing just inside the door looking lost.
It actually made John pause. Something had happened, something big and horrible, from the looks of things. He was willing to bet if he struck now, he could hurt McKay, hurt him badly enough that he’d want to leave and John would have the house to himself again. It was the perfect opportunity, the moment he’d been waiting for ever since he’d first seen the man. All he had to do was smirk and say something cutting and it’d be done. A swift and final victory in John’s little war.
He ended up walking over quietly and placing a hand just above McKay’s shoulder, mouth turned down, eyes wide. “McKay?”
Rodney’s blue eyes didn’t lose their glazed look, but they did focus on him somewhat. “Oh. Hi.” It sounded as if Rodney had forgotten John even existed. He glanced at John’s hand, and John pulled it back. Rodney looked at him again, blinking absently. “Hi,” he said again, obviously at a loss for words.
Apparently, John had lost his ability to go for the jugular after all this time. “You okay?” John prepped himself for scathing remarks over how McKay was obviously NOT okay, could he be any more blind, and why was he asking stupid questions?
“No,” was all Rodney said, frowning. “I need,” he glanced around, then felt the pockets of his jeans. “Keys. I put my keys…”
John knelt down and picked up the items in question from the floor, where Rodney must have dropped them. “You’re already inside.”
Rodney took the keys, looked for the one to the front door, before John could see his words register. “Oh. Right. Cause you can’t…” He waved back towards the door, before letting his arm hang limply. “Can we not,” he started, then stopped. Rodney’s face contorted, as if in pain for a moment. “I need sleep,” he finally said.
“You wanna go upstairs?” Rodney glanced past John, and the aggrieved look on his face was more than enough to convey how much he didn’t want to tackle stairs at the moment. “Or, you know, the couch is a foot to your left.”
Rodney nodded quietly, shrugged out of his black coat (military issue, from the looks of things), took two steps, then fell face first onto the couch, legs dangling over the armrest. John rolled his eyes, but walked over and pushed the coffee table back a few inches so Rodney wouldn’t roll over and hit it. When he turned around, Rodney was looking at him. “What?”
“You’ve been nice.”
John snorted. “I’ve been known to be. Especially when people aren’t assholes.”
The hint obviously didn’t penetrate Rodney’s mind. “Please leave.”
“What, no thank you?”
“I really,” and Rodney’s voice broke, wet and hurt and painful for one moment, “need to be alone.”
John could understand that. So he bumped the table back another inch, then left the room. At the threshold to the basement, he thought he heard sobbing coming from the living room, but it could just as well have been a stray cat. And as far as John was concerned, that’s all it was. He could respect a man’s need to cry in privacy, even if it was the heartless Rodney McKay.
Except now he didn’t seem quite so heartless after all.
~*()*~
John didn’t venture forth from his basement until well past noon. The coffee maker was still unplugged, but since John hadn’t been woken by a screaming McKay, he figured the man was still asleep. Just in case, though, he dumped out the old coffee and plugged the machine back in. He paused, as he realized this could be construed as being nice, then realized that Rodney didn’t think about coffee, just made sure it was prepped to be made for him every night.
Glancing into the living room, he found Rodney exactly as John left him the night before. Legs dangling over the end of the couch (though at some point Rodney had kicked his shoes off), lying on his belly, and head turned to the side with a little puddle of drool lying in front of his nose. It was rather disgusting, and John was willing to bet the man would be grousing about his back as soon as he woke up.
An hour later, when John was pouring a cup of coffee out of habit--not for McKay, it was habit, dammit--and staring out the kitchen window, he heard a grunt, and then pained grumbling. John turned just in time to see a barely-awake Rodney lumber in, eyes squinting and mouth scowling at the world. He plucked the cup John was holding and downed it in one long gulp before shoving the cup back at John.
John caught it at the last minute, and raised an eyebrow at Rodney. “You drank my coffee.”
“You’re dead. You need coffee like I need Kavanagh.” With that quip, he shuffled over to the coffee pot, pulled it off the hot plate, and drank from it as if it was a giant cup. John stared, wondering how the man wasn’t burning both his hands and lips. After finishing it, he set it down, let out something between a burp and a hiccup, and set about replacing the filter for a new pot.
Setting the cup on the counter, John moved so he was beside Rodney, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. “So, wild night?” Rodney’s hands froze for a moment, and when they resumed, John could see the faintest tremble in them. McKay said nothing, intently focused on getting the grounds into the filter. “That bad, huh?”
Rodney slammed the filter basket into the maker. “I don’t--can’t you go away?!” The faint trembles had become tremors, almost full-on shakiness. “I’m not in the mood-”
“When did you last eat?” John let his arms unfold as he stood up, a concerned frown appearing.
“-for your--what?” Rodney listed back as his head snapped up. “I…a while. I had a power bar last…I…” Rodney leaned against the counter, then slowly slid to the floor. “I need-”
John had already pulled a power bar out of Rodney’s emergency stash drawer and was kneeling before the scientist, pressing the thing into McKay’s hand. “Here. Eat.” It took a few minutes, but Rodney finally got the package open and was stuffing his face. Somewhere between the sixth and seventh bites, John heard a muffled “thanks” escape. “Rodney, what happened?” He kept his tone completely serious. He’d never seen Rodney like this, and he was…well, not worried (never worried, he didn’t care about McKay!), but it wasn’t normal.
And John didn’t like disruptions to his world; at least, not disruptions that destroyed the status quo.
Rodney swallowed heavily, hand crushing the wrapper remains. “There…I can’t. It’s highly classified-”
“Who am I going to tell, McKay? I’m dead.”
Rodney stared at him, eventually looking away towards the floor. He was silent, and John abruptly realized he missed the steady beat of a clock. Every clock in Rodney’s house was digital, and it was disconcerting to John not to have a steady ’tic-tic-tic’ during this heavy pause.
“I work…I work on a lot of projects,” Rodney finally answered. “One of them, a reactor, started to go critical. It shouldn’t--if I’d been there, it wouldn’t have--I mean, it might’ve, but I’d have-”
“Rodney,” John kept his voice quiet but firm, a grounding agent.
“We almost lost Colorado. And part of Utah--but who cares about Utah? Most useless state I’ve ever been to. You know there’s more sheep-”
“Than people. I know, McKay. What. Happened?” Rodney wouldn’t have been so shaken up, so vulnerable as he had been last night, unless something big had happened.
Rodney went silent again, but his breathing had changed. Sharp, painful breaths that sounded to be on the verge of tears. “Markham. He and I…” He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “There was a power surge coming, and we got out, but Gaul was still…he went in to drag him out and…”
John had a feeling he knew what was coming. “Did they make it?”
The hand clenched around the power bar wrapper pounded the floor. “He’s an idiot! I told him not to go back, that it was too dangerous!”
“He was doing his job.”
“And what the hell was Brendan doing?! I told everyone to clear out, but he didn’t listen! He never listens! Listened!” Another shuddering breath. “And Markham…he was a pain in my ass, but he made sure I ate, and listened to me rant, and drove me home that one time I was on uppers…”
A friend. And John was willing to bet this Brendan was one on some level, or at least someone Rodney knew well. He reached over to give Rodney’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and his hand passed right through McKay’s body. “They…at least you saved everyone in Colorado.”
“They shouldn’t have died,” Rodney said bitterly. “My scientists aren’t supposed to die. And Markham wasn’t even on duty. He just heard the alarm and came and…and…oh god. Brendan and Markham…” McKay violently shuddered, and he put his head between his knees. “They were burned. I saw…christ, their organs liquefied and they died all because I wasn’t…I couldn’t-”
“Hey, hey. You did everything you could. You can’t blame yourself.”
Rodney’s head snapped up, unshed tears awash in his burning gaze. “It was MY PROJECT that killed them! I figured out the math! I designed the reactor chamber! I was called in to FIX the damned thing! And now two of my friends are DEAD! So excuse me if I’m having a little freak out!”
Right, John reminded himself. Rodney worked for the military, but he wasn’t in the military, he didn’t have the training. Death wasn’t something he was trained to cope with. And while John could try reasoning with the one man John considered thoroughly unreasonable under ideal circumstances, he figured someone corporeal might be more what Rodney needed right now.
Getting up, John squatted so he was still eye-level with Rodney. “Where’s Radak?”
Rodney shook again. “He slept. Over the three days. I didn’t, so he’s…they sent me home and he said he’d call if there was trouble, but I was making mistakes and, and…”
John searched his memory. “What about Carson?”
“Busy. There was radiation poisoning and more burns and-”
“Right, right. Okay.” Rodney went silent again, taking deep breaths between his knees. John stood and made his way back to the living room. He stared at the phone, and contemplated what to do. Radek and Carson, Rodney’s friends, were busy--and he was willing to bet Carter was as well (from what he’d overheard in Rodney’s discussions with Radek, anyways). Rodney needed a friend, but Rodney’s friends weren’t available. Knowing it was a long shot and he’d probably regret this, he picked up the phone and dialed the only number he could think of.
~*()*~
It took only twenty minutes for the front door to slam open, and John made sure to leave the phone right by McKay so it’d look like he was the one that called. As soon as he heard the footsteps, John retreated from Rodney’s sight, hiding. It wasn’t like he needed to, no one but Rodney could see him. Still, he just felt it’d be better if he was out of the way for this.
“Jesus, McKay.” Lorne squatted. “Doc, you okay?”
“Major,” Rodney’s voice was confused, and he blinked owlishly. “How…why are you…”
“You called me. You didn’t say anything, but I have caller ID.” Lorne put an arm under Rodney’s and the other around his torso. “Come on, Doc. Let’s get you to bed.”
“I can do it.” Rodney tried to shove Lorne away, and nearly cracked his chin on the counter when his legs practically collapsed.
Lorne grimaced. “Why don’t we keep that between us, sir.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Rodney’s gaze roamed around the room, and John made sure to duck out of view as they passed him. “Thanks,” he said, and John knew it wasn’t directed at Lorne.
“You’d do the--well, I owe you. You did save all our asses.”
“Not all of them,” Rodney muttered darkly.
“Markham knew what he was doing, sir.” Rodney didn’t respond, letting Lorne lead him out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. John came out of his hiding place, standing right next to the doorway behind the wall.
“Listen, uh, about what I said…sorry.”
“It was a tense situation, sir. Barking orders was fine-”
“Not yesterday. I mean, um, after I bought…I’m sorry.”
John closed his eyes, somehow knowing the apology was not only very rare, but very real.
“Shep was a good guy,” Lorne finally said.
“Yeah,” Rodney responded. “I’m starting to get that. I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t know him.”
“You would’ve hated him, Doc.” John heard a small smile in Lorne’s voice. “He had this drawl that would drive you nuts.”
“Markham drove me nuts.”
“Yeah.” The smile was gone from the man’s voice. “He did.”
There was a hitched breath. “I wish-”
“We all do, Doc. But take it from a guy who’s seen action: put it out of your mind. Just for a day or two. I’ll call and see when Carson can come over.”
“Don’t--I mean, I want--he’ll be just as tired. Let him rest.”
Lorne let out a sigh. “For an asshole, you’re a good guy, Doc.”
“For a brain-dead grunt, you’d make a half-decent minion.”
John heard Lorne chuckle. “Now I know you’re tired. You got some sedatives or something?”
“I’ll be fine, Major. The coffee I had is barely keeping me awake.”
John left the doorway to return to the garage. At least they weren’t at each other’s throats. Lorne, John reflected, was a good choice. He knew his friend wouldn’t let him down, even if it meant dealing with the most vicious, vile man in the world.
Which wasn’t, John was realizing, Rodney McKay at all. He was arrogant, annoying, rude, and a jerk…but this new side, this tired, caring side…it threw John.
Shutting the garage door, he leaned against it, hands behind his back. Maybe, just maybe, he’d have to rethink exactly how much he really wanted McKay gone. He really wasn’t such a bad guy, not when it came down to it.
Just to be sure, though, he’d sleep off the adrenaline (or whatever ghosts had in place of adrenaline) and see how things looked after a nap.
~*()*~
When John came out in the evening, he found Lorne asleep on the couch, the sports channel showing some college football game. John couldn’t help but grin, and he vowed to keep his buddy company just as soon as he checked in on McKay. He wanted to see if the prickly asshole had returned or not.
He found Rodney sitting up in bed, writing something on a legal pad. At John’s entrance he looked up. “He still asleep?”
John shut the door quietly. “Yup.”
“He only left two hours before me. You probably woke him.”
“Ah.”
Rodney turned his attention back to the notepad. “Thanks. For calling him. I really needed--not that you aren’t--but--thanks.”
“No problem, McKay.” John put his hands on his hips. “So what’re you-”
“Eulogies. I planned on outliving Gaul, but mocking his incompetence now seems…” Rodney crossed something off, before putting both paper and pen down, shoulders slumping. “I don’t even know what to say about Markham. I didn’t even know his first name.”
John let his arms drop. “I’m sure it’ll come to you. You’re a genius.” Rodney looked back up, eyes narrowing slightly. John shifted his nonexistent weight from one foot to the others, stuffing a hand into his pocket. “So I was thinking…” Rodney sat up, crossing his arms; though it seemed less arrogant then when he usually assumed that position. “Maybe…you aren’t such a bad guy. I mean, your coffee smells great, and the house is pretty big-”
“I’m still calling the medium.” Rodney let out a huff through his nose. “It’s a thank you,” he said to John’s appalled look. “You,” he waved a hand towards the door, “you know, helped. Were nice and…and maybe she can help you leave. Find that place beyond.”
“I don’t really wanna go there.” John made a face. “I’ve seen the beyond. It’s not very--am I supposed to be telling you?”
“Not according to your manual.” Rodney looked down. “I just thought you might like to…find your reward or something. She’s good at that.”
John thought about it for a minute. It would be nice to get his ‘reward’, assuming it was something other than working in the dead secretarial pool. “Alright. Not like I can move on unless I want to.” A guilty look crossed Rodney’s face, and John remembered that Rodney had dealt with ghosts before; possibly with an excommunicator. “I can’t-”
“Not with her, no. She’s made that very clear.”
“Well, then I’m fine with her coming.” John crossed his arms.
“Fine.”
“Fine.” They remained silent a minute, only the faint noise of the TV breaking the quiet. “You know, Lorne isn’t such a bad guy.”
Rodney sighed. “For a geologist,” he said, mouth twisting on the last word. “It’s not even a hard science.”
“Really? I thought rocks were-”
“If you finish that sentence I’m throwing my pen at you.” He waved dismissively. “Go. I can hear the football from here. Leave me to my words and thoughts and ways to make the marines forgive me for making their own cry.”
“Cool.” John opened the door. “And, uh, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you…”
Rodney nodded, picking up his notepad. “I don’t really want to-”
“Yeah, cool. I’ll just…”
“Try not to spook Lorne.”
“Right, right.” John slipped out and shut the door. All in all, not a bad conversation. Heading back downstairs, he took his usual position on the couch and relaxed, ready to tune out the world and tune in to football.
There was a tiny part of his mind, though, that was infinitely curious about who this medium was, and how on some level, he couldn’t wait to meet her.
~*()*~