~ ~ ~
PART TWO:
~ ~ ~

John should not have been surprised to see that Rodney had already drafted a proposal and – with his agreement – sent it off to Alma, cc: Evan, Clarice, Radek and Miko. Carson, too, just in case he wanted to give them an extra flu shot before they departed. Or just to wave his big needles as a genuinely friendly reminder.

John didn't know what to expect from Rodney, but was actually relieved they'd be off the city during the holiday lull back on Earth. He hadn't been in a festive mood before and had barely play-acted the role of a worry-free military commander on a base teeming with an expanded population.

He and Rodney had sent each other lists of what to bring and had packed their usual assortment of games. John supposed it was Rodney's way of telling John that – if things got to be too strained between them – they could always fall back on a convenient chess match or movie to lessen tensions.

John was surprised to see that Rodney was not bringing a month's supply of MREs for the week they would be away. Instead, he noted the inclusion of baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables, eggs, breads, cheeses and a freezer chest of chicken, fish, steaks and pies. Nothing fancy, just food that could be prepared in a pot or grilled on a rack placed directly over the fire.

They wouldn't need bottled water, as there was a stream from the mountains right behind the lodge. John figured it would be his duty to fetch water every morning because Rodney would be the last person he expected to stomp those few feet through the snow without bitching all the way. Especially for that all-important first pot of coffee.

John added a case of wine to the provisions, including a personal parting gift from Woolsey. Depending on how his getaway with Rodney progressed, they'd either be toasting each other on their last night, or drowning their shared bitterness. If they were still talking at all. John hoped it wouldn't be that bad.

~ ~ ~

Day One: The 'jumper was packed, they were dressed in warm-weather gear and ready to take off. All their goodbyes had been said and it was time to leave the confines of the city.

However, John was puzzled to see how stiffly Rodney held himself on the quick journey by 'jumper over to the hunting lodge, how little there was of their traditional banter. Based on the exchange of e-mails, John had thought this trip would have been a piece of cake.

Based on his own experiences with Rodney in the past, John should not have underestimated him. But he had. In one way, it was the reasonable tone of Rodney's e-mails that should have alerted John to the fact that Rodney was holding back.

Still, after John landed the 'jumper, they were both busy unloading and storing the provisions away. John noted that Rodney had left his sleeping bag rolled up in the corner of the main room so left his there also. John decided it wasn't worth the hassle to crowd or rush Rodney, even though they'd always shared accommodations when off-world.

The first evening meal they shared was strained, after the uncommunicative journey and chores that had been accomplished in near silence. John wasn't used to silence – not from Rodney of all people. After he had drawn water from the stream and Rodney had chopped wood (John had caught a glimpse of the axe swinging down from those powerful shoulders), they'd prepared dinner, still in silence. At least the food was good: thick steaks grilled over the fire with potatoes aka tormack baked in the embers and sautéed mushrooms, accompanied by a Shiraz.

Once they'd eaten and had a couple of glasses of wine each, John noticed Rodney unwinding. It seemed like a good time to talk. “I know this is not what we're here to discuss, but have you figured out who might have set you and Richard up?”

Rodney's startled eyes darted up to his face. “Why would you say something like that?”

John drawled, “Come on, Rodney. Think about it. It's obvious. Why would the SGC recall both you and Woolsey all the way from Pegasus to first take a stoned journey over to the Destiny – where you bitched you only got to meet Eli, the wonder-kid, and not the great Rush himself – and then travel to Langara. Were they all out of scientists at the Mountain that week? Everyone sick with the flu? Nobody else could create a dialling program? Face it. They were protecting their own. Woolsey drew the short straw to be made a scapegoat only because they knew we needed you back here, so you'd get your hand slapped but not much more. I know that, Alma knows that and I figured you should, too.

Rodney slumped back in his chair. “Fuck. And here I'd been thinking it was a personal failure, like a sequel to Doranda.”

“They could have exchanged you for any other scientist, but I think it's because you're Canadian. The IOA's international members have been bugging the SGC to lose the top-heavy American presence on Atlantis and this was the perfect opportunity. And it might have looked a bit too weird if it had been another American along with Dick. I'm not saying that Alma's anybody's mouthpiece but the one thing she's not is definitely an American.”

Rodney nodded. “That she isn't. But if you're right – and I don't doubt it now you've mentioned it – we're going to have a new problem, unless you and I think of how to explain our little Skippy problem. But, first, I need coffee. Dessert, too.”

John got up and cleared away the dishes. “You stay. I'll bring you a cup. I think I saw some apple pie. Okay?”

Rodney chuckled. “Isn't your choice of pie ironically symbolic?”

“You know, sometimes a piece of pie is just dessert, not a geopolitical commentary.”

Only after they'd had a couple of cups of coffee (well, Rodney had four) and pie, did they clear away the table and start to talk seriously, though John suggested they move to sit in front of the fireplace.

“I'll admit, Sheppard, that until you'd made me see how this is a ploy to dilute the American presence on Atlantis, I was willing to let you twist in the wind with your little Skippy problem.”

John grimaced. “Geeze, Rodney, you're all heart. But why do we need to reveal it at all? Can't it be just between the two of us?”

Rodney sighed. “If Atlantis hadn't been breeched by an Ancient, it could have been. But I'm bound to report it to Alma, considering I'm still in the doghouse. So we just have to figure out how to diminish your involvement. Then I show how I found the glitch and we got Skippy off Atlantis.”

Rodney snapped his fingers in rapid succession. “I've got it. Every time Skippy came to visit you, you were asleep and thought you were dreaming. You can't be held responsible if you're asleep. There actually is legal precedence for a sleep-walking defence.” He paused for a moment, then smiled confidently. “You know, this could actually work.”

Rodney stood and began to pace, thinking and talking through his plan. “After I demonstrate how my algorithm worked on you, I could argue that it should be implemented throughout Atlantis and on all SGC missions. Having an early detection system against kidnappings – hello, remember the rogue Asgard – would aid in speedier recovery efforts. Anyway, I figure we can turn your Ancient dallying into a winning point for us.”

The two men talked about strategy for a couple of hours, with Rodney's fingers flying over the keyboard as he tried to capture the vital buzzwords in their proposal.

They finally ran out of words, tired from their physical exertions earlier and relaxed from the food and wine. Though Rodney did seem less stressed, John didn't know how he'd react to the subject of sleeping arrangements.

John glanced over at Rodney whose head seemed to be nodding sideways, sliding against the warm, sturdy cushions. “Hey, buddy. How about we stretch out in front of the fire and get some sleep?” John's voice had been gentle, soft.

In response, Rodney's eyes were mere slits. He waved his presumably agreeing hand, though it sure looked floppy, as if even that was too much of an exertion.

John chuckled and rose. He added more wood to the fire before grabbing the sleeping bags. After he'd managed to slide a pliant Rodney off the low couch and into his, he turned all the oil lamps off save one, then carried two cups and a pitcher of water to the small table near them. Finally John was in his own bag, glancing over at Rodney who already seemed to be asleep. He whispered “goodnight” but received nothing but even breathing as a reply.

Except for a couple of heart-stopping moments during the night when the silence – no soothing waves nor a murmuring Atlantis - had confused him, John slept well, especially when he'd glanced over at the Rodney-shaped lump in the sleeping bag and saw no evidence of distress. It helped that he and Rodney were at least talking, even if it had been about politics and the idiots in the IOA. But it was a start.

Day Two: The next day was cold and crisp but the sun was a cheery sight. John knew that he and Rodney still hadn't faced what Skippy had shared with them. Even though they had the entire week, John didn't want to have this hanging over their heads the entire time. So distracting Rodney – always a fun thing – was the order of the day. And how better than to get a sputtering, red-faced Rodney to go for a nature walk with him. In the snow. The only thing John was worried about was whether Rodney would kill him if he threw a snowball. After John had enticed Rodney with sunny-side up eggs and the Pegasus equivalent of crisp bacon – with the obligatory buttered toast and coffee – they set out.

When they reached the mountain stream, Rodney had to admit it was a peaceful vista. He mentioned to John that it reminded him of a few summers – before he'd gone off to university – up in Northern Ontario (which he tried to explain to John was a different kind of North than Fort McMurray, his place of birth in Alberta) where it was still possible to forget that there was electricity and modern conveniences, especially when one was surrounded by pristine lakes and towering forests. Rodney wondered whether current New Lantea sheltered any loon-like birds in its waters and suggested it might actually be a good idea to return in the warmer months to check out the waterfowl and fishing. Rodney knew that Carson for one would love the opportunity.

When they returned to the lodge a couple of hours later, their flasks of hot chocolate empty, the small Athosian cakes devoured, Rodney was in fact red-faced, but it was simply the rosy-cheeked exuberance from having been outside where he'd enjoyed himself despite his original misgivings. To his credit, John had refrained from throwing even a single snowball. On the other hand, John figured he might still have an opportunity to get Rodney later in the week.

After a hot shower and a change of clothes, John built up the fire and prepared turkey sandwiches and tomato soup while Rodney was having his own shower. John knew they needed to talk. After lunch. When Rodney came out, he was still rubbing his hair with a towel. John motioned him over to the fireplace. They didn't need a table if it was just sandwiches and mugs of soup.

Too soon the food was gone and John had no other delaying tactics up his sleeve. He began, hesitating, “You know, we really should talk about what Skippy showed us.”

Rodney sighed. “I know we shouldn't keep putting it off, no matter how many times you might drag me out for a 'special' commune with nature.”

John smiled, despite himself, because Rodney had used air quotes. Then he became serious. “You know we don't have to go through it all in one go. I don't think Skippy meant to hurt us. But I think it would be a valuable source of information that we could give Alma and the SGC.”

Okay, so that had surprised Rodney who sounded sceptical. “What kind of information? Just how could our deaths have an impact ... other than my brilliance or your customary idiotic self-sacrificing no longer being a constant in keeping Atlantis and everyone there alive?”

“Just think of it Rodney. Sure, we know about the deaths we avoided so far - but what about our deaths in the future? If we can remember enough details, like gate addresses, how old we think we looked, the people we were dealing with, then we can try to avoid some of those situations, or at least be on our guard to expect problems.”

Rodney blinked his eyes a few times, then nodded his head. “You know, Sheppard, this could work. And now we have a historical source of preventive security for Alma's consideration. And,” he grinned, “another reason for Alma not to chew you out, or not as much.”

John felt relieved that Rodney seemed to be looking at this as a strategic exercise while helping John, though he was sure Rodney was deflecting the fear and sadness of so many of the situations they'd been forced to share in their joint visions.

~ ~ ~

They'd been talking for hours. John's throat hurt, even though he'd replenished the mugs of strong tea sweetened with an Athosian apricot-like nectar. He made sure that Rodney kept drinking as well. They'd been so busy talking that stopping to make dinner seemed irrelevant. So John grabbed some cookies and fruit, so they'd have at least something to distract them occasionally while they recalled the memories.

John closed his eyes and allowed his head to thump back against the cushion. He knew which memory Rodney was avoiding bringing to the surface. He was right. It was probably the worst one of all the probabilities, though none of them was pleasant, not where death was concerned.

They'd already shared the explosive deaths: when John had not been miraculously beamed from the bomb-laden 'jumper headed toward the Hive ship was #1. And when the Daedalus hadn't shown up to rescue them, they'd both been blown up by the Arcturus device, that was #2. At least those deaths had been instantaneous.

The experience of being fed on by Todd several times – including the last time when he hadn't restored John's life – had exhausted them both. But John was surprised to experience Rodney's drowning death when the first expedition had failed with a curious detachment. Unless he was also feeling that Rodney had already dissociated himself from that inevitable death ... because who ever focuses that much on dying, even presumably someone with finely-honed instincts for self-preservation as Rodney.

On the other hand, the seemingly quiet deaths of the entire Team aboard the Daedalus felt almost painless, especially after Teyla had whispered calming words and prayers. Well, at least she got to observe her important Athosian ritual before she died. Though it was a surprise to see that Ronon did carry ... uh ... illegal substances tucked into his clothing. John was sure that Rodney had appreciated Ronon's lethargy-inducing drugs more than Teyla's prayers.

Then came the more taxing deaths. John had to admit feeling himself starve to death all alone 48,000 years into the future was no stroll in the park. Evidently this was a reality where Jennifer hadn't died and had succeeded in dissuading Rodney from pursuing his obsession to bring John back. John couldn't activate the DHD because there wasn't enough power to the 'gate. Even if there had been power, where would he have gated, not knowing when he was or whether other worlds had dried up too? He couldn't make it to the 'jumper bay because of the piled-up sand. Or even to the stasis pods. Though those just seemed like a way to delay an inevitable death, not to escape it. He didn't want to end up an even creepier preserved corpse.

But then he'd felt such sadness after witnessing Rodney's efforts in trying to change the time-line, to get him back. After Rodney had made it onto Atlantis and installed his special hologram, he'd meekly returned to Earth and faded into nothingness. True, he was alive but less than a year later he was dead. The obit had said “natural causes” but John knew there had never been anything “natural” about Rodney, only extraordinary. It seemed that Rodney had lost the will to live without purpose. Rescuing John had been his purpose and he'd fulfilled it – in another time-line separated by a barrier even his genius could not breech.

Suddenly, John felt that more talking and sharing of the worst experience would do them both no good. He already felt wrung out about how some of his hidden feelings for Rodney had bled out in the way he'd described how he'd died. And he also felt how deep Rodney's feelings for him had been. They'd had a good start and Rodney had been careful in extracting as many identifying details as possible. This next one, it could wait for another evening. When John suggested an early night, he wasn't surprised to get no objection from Rodney.

Day Three: When they woke up on a slightly grey day, after a hearty breakfast to make up for the previous day's austere meals, they continued to catalogue as many of the future deaths as possible. To John's surprise, Rodney was handling them remarkably well. It seemed as if it was far easier to deal with not-yet-happened deaths than those that had, even if they themselves had lived through them.

It was also an exercise in seeing how well people continued to thrive in Atlantis. Not only that, but the idea of mapping out the puzzle pieces from future travel throughout the Pegasus galaxy intrigued them both. That pleased Rodney, because now he also had a navigational component to present to Alma (presumably along with a barely-suppressed shout of “Ha!”).

They worked independently first, Rodney on his tablet and John writing in a notebook. After another quick lunch of roast beast sandwiches, they shared what they'd each remembered individually, filling in any hazy details. Once again, John was pleased to see how well Rodney was coping, processing their past deaths. Then again, as they themselves weren't actually dead, it was a moot point. John figured the whole thing could turn into a fascinating philosophical discussion. He might see if Teyla would be willing to indulge him upon their return to Atlantis.

After Rodney had finished transcribing John's notes onto his laptop, he saved his work and copied it onto a flash drive. With all of their efforts (not to forget shared pain), the last thing Rodney wanted was to experience a stupid equipment failure.

Having worked through the daylight hours, John thought they needed to have some R&R, so suggested either chess or a movie for after dinner. He wasn't surprised when Rodney turned down the chess game. They didn't bother eating at the table, but balanced their plates piled with grilled shishkabobs and cheese doodles (John had discovered that not everything Rodney had brought was on the healthy side) on their laps while they watched The Sound of Music which had been Rodney's unexpected choice.

Rodney was embarrassed to admit that he'd been inspired by them being near a snowy mountain and in a kind of chalet, so had chosen the musical deliberately before they'd left Atlantis. John couldn't stop laughing for many minutes; Rodney eventually began to laugh as well. But, the dorks they were, they sang along with the familiar songs.

John thought his yodel was spectacular. Rodney screeched in disagreement though managed to shut up only because John had stuffed a spoonful of butterscotch pudding in his mouth!

That night seemed to be the most relaxed for both of them. Before they fell asleep, they kept humming or whistling back and forth in their sleeping bags until they were exhausted. Sleep easily claimed them both.

Day Four: The next morning, after a quick meal, John suggested they go out again for a walk. Rodney grumbled and grunted, but gave in, especially when John used his patented puppy-dog look. He reminded Rodney that having a few days off was a terrific opportunity to do something different. While living on Atlantis was a unique experience, so was having a wilderness adventure without any wild animals, avalanches or any other dangers. It was also possible that the Swiss chocolate bar he produced may have persuaded Rodney that a walk, followed by the consumption of said chocolate, was a very good idea.

In the spirit of good sportsmanship, no snowballs were made or thrown, though Rodney agreed it was a terrific idea to bring the various teams over during the winter, especially for team bonding. John added that, if any war games broke out, the ammunition would be plentiful and not so hazardous. Or as messy as paintball.

When they returned to the lodge, John produced not one but two of the chocolate bars, so they could each mumble around the luscious melting sensation in their mouths. Along with some mixed nuts and fruit, Rodney found he was quite satisfied with the snack instead of a proper lunch.

They decided on a late dinner after playing three and a half games of chess in the afternoon and then taking brief naps. John couldn't recall the last time he'd been able to indulge in a nap and, no, being holed up in the Infirmary hopped up on the good drugs didn't come close to counting as a nap.

After their naps, they felt energized enough to create a hearty meal of roast not-a-chicken, potatoes (again of the tormack variety) and carrots. Rodney grinned as he produced the hidden can of cranberry sauce as well as a can opener. They toasted each other with a Merlot and added to the chocolate-overload experience with a rich cake.

Though they did air out the chalet every day, enough pleasant aromas lingered to make John especially feel as if this were their home. He could still surprise himself with such an honest observation and tried not to let it scare him too much.

After their exuberant day, John hoped he could broach the death they'd both been avoiding. And that they'd still be able to get to sleep afterwards. It had to be the worst and it had lingered in his mind since the meld with Skippy. Though the illness and death had meant mere weeks for Rodney, the experience had coloured the rest of that John's natural life. After they'd settled themselves on the couch, he turned to Rodney and began speaking.

~ ~ ~

He remembered walking toward the Stargate, holding Rodney's hand. At this point, Rodney had reverted to the age of two or three. Not even a genius-Rodney level two or three, because the inquisitive factor was entirely depleted. The parasite had continued to expand steadily, leaving Rodney in constant excruciating pain. Bad enough for an adult. Impossible for someone with the limited comprehension of a small child.

John gritted his teeth. He remembered how Dr. Fucking Useless Keller had refused to accept a properly-filed Medical POA where Rodney had indicated John as Rodney's proxy years ago. She'd protested, said it was “highly improper”. Then she'd put an emergency call in through to the SGC so they could bully a pliant, childlike Rodney back to Earth when she couldn't do anything with conventional medical techniques.

In that reality, there had been no Woolsey sympathetic to Ronon's story about his grandfather and Second Childhood disease, or open to the Pegasus legend of the Shrine. In fact, Teyla and Ronon were routinely dismissed by the latest expedition leader (some nameless weasel-faced IOA flunky) as being irrelevant to the needs and goals of Earth's people. Even worse, in that reality, Rodney had never reconciled with Jeannie, so she wasn't there to override Keller's bureaucratic and medical incompetence.

Just before they stepped through to Earth, Rodney looked up solemnly at John and whispered, “Will it hurt?”

John couldn't bear the thought of Rodney being afraid of something else he'd forgotten, so he'd squeezed Rodney's hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Nah, it'll be fun. You'll like it.”

Rodney stared at him, his round blue eyes full of trust. “'Kay, J-J-John, 'kay.”

John couldn't believe it, even now. Though Rodney had forgotten nearly everything else, stuttering voice and all, he still remembered John.

Then they stepped through, straight into Hell.

When they emerged at the SGC, Rodney was shrieking, stumbling, writhing on the floor while clutching at his head. John had fallen to his knees when Rodney had pulled away, so he had a front-row seat to the horror.

Then, there was nothing but a hideous silence, because Rodney wasn't moving. Or breathing. The med team that had been on standby to escort Rodney to the Infirmary tried to revive him, but there was nothing to revive. The parasite had expanded too quickly in the time it had taken to move from Pegasus to the Milky Way. Rodney – Rodney was gone. Forever.

Despite the insistence of the med team and doctors, John – in an ice-cold voice - had refused permission for an autopsy to be conducted. He still had the Medical POA with him and threatened to call down the wrath of Sheppard Industries' legal teams, confidentiality agreements be damned. The only concession he made was to allow a couple of non-invasive scans made of Rodney's brain and body. For the official record. Not once did he leave Rodney's side until the med teams had departed.

Then he was left alone, to deal with post-mortem preparations. And the repercussions to his own life.


~ ~ ~

John's breathing and heart-rate had increased as he truly felt Rodney's final moments of searing pain for the first time. It hadn't even registered when Skippy had shared all of these deaths, one after another. But now, this grotesque death was set apart, with its layers peeled away to reveal the unimaginable. When the pain subsided to a dull ache in his head, only then did he hear the sound of muffled sobbing. Looking down, John saw Rodney's body curling in on itself, shivering despite the heat from the fire.

John pulled the trembling body into his arms. He hadn't realized until then that there were silent tears streaming down his own face. God. He'd never cried before in his entire life. Not even at his mother's funeral. He knew his father wouldn't have permitted it ... but still. Nor the times when he was captured, then tortured. He'd gotten really good at suppressing his feelings, year after year. But this time ... it was different.

He pushed his wet face into Rodney's chest as he tightened his arms, his thumbs rubbing slow soothing patterns onto the soft grey cotton stretched over Rodney's back.

Rodney's sobs had ebbed until he was mostly just taking in shnuffling gulps of air. “For the record, I never want to feel that death – or any of them – again. At least my only consolation is that, before that parasite obliterated my brain, you were the last thing I saw.”

John lifted his own head to look into Rodney's reddened eyes. “I'm with you there, buddy. It may be the only time you hear me say 'I felt your pain'. So I'm agreed. No more dying for either of us.” He chuckled weakly. “I'll bet the SGC already has a special retroactive dead/not dead form for the occasion, named after Daniel Jackson.”

Rodney sniffed in disdain. “Of course they would. With many revisions to suit each circumstance. There's probably a dedicated filing cabinet just for him.”

John moved his hands until they were on either side of Rodney's head. This was a scary move, especially for him. But he needed to show Rodney something important. “I know you don't want to see or experience what happened to either or both of us dying ever again. I agree. I'm sick to death of death. But Skippy left me a little parting present. I really want to share it with you, if you'll let me.” John took a deep breath before letting it out. “Rodney, do you trust me?”

Rodney's answer should have come as no surprise after everything they'd experienced over the years. But hearing it still stunned John. “More than anyone else, John.”

“Okay, hold my hand.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Does this mean we're going steady? You should know I'm not that easy. Even if you are the re-re-rebooted equal-opportunity version of Kirk.”

John burst out laughing. “You? Easy? Maybe when you're doped up on chocolate and coffee and near-coma-sleepy in a major way. Now, will you shut up and just hold my hand?” John reached out and brought Rodney's hand toward his chest. Each could feel the other's heartbeat and unexpected heat.

“Forget about all the dying or nearly dying. Forget about the searing pain. I want you to see what happened after you died in the SGC Gate room. Just stay with me. I promise you it'll be worth it.”

~ ~ ~

John replayed the memory that was his but not his. He remembered the intense focus of buying an expensive charcoal suit, one that would highlight Rodney's broad chest and strong shoulders. He'd even chosen a striped plum shirt and complementary smoky plum silk tie for him. Even if Rodney couldn't appreciate the little touches, John thought they were important. Paying his own final respects, as it were.

Then he remembered donning his dress blues for the last time. He'd called in a favour from Dave. There was no way John was having Rodney travel on a commercial or, even worse, military flight.

The driver pulled up in front of a medium-sized house on a large lot. John noted immediately that the grass hadn't been cut in a while. Weeds were sprouting everywhere. There was an overturned rusting bicycle with training wheels on the path. He sidestepped it neatly. When the door opened to his knock, he hadn't been surprised by the vivid blue eyes, but the blond curls were ... different. “Uh ... Ms. Jean Miller?”

The woman opened the door wider. John could see another inquisitive blond head belonging to a little girl peeking out from behind it. “I go by McKay these days. Jeannie McKay.”

John's reaction was polite. “Oh, I'm sorry.”

Jeannie's response was curt. “I'm not. Listen, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but what is this about? I'm in no condition to be standing on my feet for a long time.”

John's eyes travelled over her very pregnant belly as discreetly as possible. What a time for him to be complicating the woman's life.

“My name is Col. John Sheppard. I worked with your brother.”

Jeannie's nose wrinkled in confusion. “Huh. Haven't heard from Mer in years. What kind of trouble has he gotten into this time? It's been decades since the bomb thing.” Only then did she peer over John's shoulder. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, but her eyes couldn't blink away the sudden tears. “Is that...? Oh my God. Sorry, sorry, but I really need to sit down. Please ... come in.”

She opened the door wider as she turned to the little girl. “Maddie, honey, it's all right. Why don't you go play in your room? Mommy will have lunch ready in a little while.”

John followed Jeannie into a cluttered living room. It looked as if it had been a nice room with well-made furnishings at one time, suited to the pleasant neighbourhood. But now there were moving boxes stacked against one wall. The only surface not covered by papers was the couch, so John had no choice but to sit down next to Jeannie, laying his cover on top of the least precarious pile stacked on the coffee table.

“How did it happen?”

John had prepared himself for the question. Stick to the truth as much as possible. “He came down with a brain infection. By the time we got advanced medical help, it was too late. It was--”

Here, John had to stop to take a deep breath. He knew he was lying, but there was no reason to take out any of his frustration or anger on Jeannie. “His death was very quick.”

Jeannie, he noted, was no fool. Well, no sister of Rodney's would be. Her caustic voice cut through him like one of Ronon's special knives. “I see you didn't say 'painless'.”

There was too much hurt in John's eyes, so he closed them momentarily. His reply was strained. “No, I didn't.”

“And now you brought him here.”

He swept a hand through his ragged hair. “We worked on a remote base. Rodney's colleagues were his friends. I was honoured to be his closest friend. I also held his POA and Medical POA. I didn't know where else to go.”

“No, it's okay. I'm glad you did. I always wondered what happened to him after he moved to the States, especially since he stopped talking to me when I got married and pregnant for the first time. Well, look at me now. I guess the only thing missing is me hearing him gloat and say 'I told you so'.”

John laid a tentative hand over hers, interrupting. “You'd be surprised. I don't think he'd be as judgemental as you think. He had many loyal friends where we worked and risked his life to save the base the first month we were there.”

Jeannie startled. “Mer risked his life? Are we really talking about my brother?” She waved a hand, disconcerted. “Not that it matters much now, considering he's gone. And I've got to move out of here ... find a place for Maddie, myself, and the twins on the way.”

John looked uncomfortable. “I know it's none of my business, but what happened to Kaleb?”

Jeannie's bark of laughter was bitter. “What happened to that bastard was his T.A. But not before I got pregnant again. Sure, he left me the house in the divorce settlement but, without a job, I can't afford to keep it. Taxes in this neighbourhood are murder.”

“Where will you go?” John's voice was warm, concerned.

“A friend offered me a basement flat until I find a place of my own. I know it'll be cramped with three kids, but it's all I can manage right now.” Jeannie waved at the moving boxes. “I'm putting this stuff into storage. Well, okay, my friend is, whenever she has a spare moment. I'm not too good with the whole standing and lifting thing right now.”

“I'm sorry if I'm adding to your burden.”

“No. Don't be. It's okay. Even if we weren't close, it's good to hear that Mer had friends, good friends. So ... are you taking care of...?” She waved a hand in the vague direction of the window.

“If I couldn't find you, I was prepared to make all the arrangements on my own. But I don't want to step on your toes.”

“No, it's okay. Really ... okay. Everything is such a mess in my life right now. I'd appreciate the help.”

John remembered the rest of the afternoon. How they'd chosen a funeral home to which he'd directed the hearse. How John had invited Jeannie and Madison to move into the Panoramic Harbourview Suite he'd booked in the Pan Pacific Hotel at Canada Place while they planned Rodney's memorial service. How big Madison's eyes got as she saw the trademark sails adorning the hotel and cruise terminal, not to mention bouncing merrily on a king-sized bed in the room she and Jeannie were sharing, adjoining his. John figured Maddie would have been affected more than Jeannie by the divorce, especially processing it as a kid. She might not know about the infidelity – John hoped to God she didn't – but she'd still feel as if her daddy had abandoned her. And it seemed he had, considering how bad things were for Jeannie.

John remembered the familiar faces that had attended the viewing days. Though he'd resigned his commission after Rodney had died, he'd held back from charging Keller with professional misconduct. It wouldn't have brought Rodney back to life. But he'd made a deliberate point to exclude her from the invitation. He couldn't imagine how Jeannie would have reacted to her, even without the knowledge of an alien parasite as the cause of her brother's death. But if she'd heard that this particular doctor had not followed every avenue (even folklore), there would have been sparks flying, if not an actual case of entirely justified arson. Or homicide.

They came in waves, every day a different group. John knew they had to be gating through and then being transported to Vancouver by whatever ship was in orbit. He didn't think it was exorbitant, felt that Rodney deserved the respect, the recognition. John had coerced the SGC to locate Teyla and Ronon so they could be at the memorial along with most of the senior staff. So Radek, Miko and Evan were there. As was Carson who, though a clone, had been reinstated as head of Medicine on Atlantis. John was surprised - though shouldn't have been - to see the many others from Atlantis who had attended to pay their respects, Prominent by their absence were members of the IOA and SGC. John had not invited them. But John kept the personal letter of condolence he'd received from Jack O'Neill. The two of them had some unique shared experiences and John couldn't dismiss him with the same contempt he felt for the current bureaucratic assholes in charge.

John remembered giving the eulogy and how inadequate he'd felt for the task. It reminded him of the time Rodney had expected to die – so many years ago – from the Ascension device and how John did not want to do it then either. Afterwards, he'd allowed Ronon and Teyla to gather him in a hug. He'd turned to Jeannie to include her, Madison as well. They needed to be together.

Then it was all over. It was just the three of them - John, Jeannie and Maddie - alone in the suite. The memories came faster now, skipping weeks, then months, at a time. Professional movers packing up Jeannie's possessions. John finding them an even nicer five-bedroom home in the same neighbourhood. Between the sale of Jeannie's old house and his back pay, they could afford it.

Madison going on play-dates accompanied by her Uncle John who was a great hit, especially since he made the best goofy faces and loved being around kids.

Jeannie finally giving birth to a girl and a boy. John may not have been the first to hold them, but he was the second. Jeannie naming the girl Jessica after a favourite aunt and the boy Rodney.

Now there were gaps of years. Toddlers gleefully crawling in a playpen as John minded them, entertaining them with his guitar and reading them stories set in outer space.

Jessica playing softball as John and Jeannie cheered from the stands. Though little Rodney never showed up, claiming like his namesake that his skin was too fair, he made sure to record all of his sister's wins on a large chart taped to the kitchen wall.

John and Rodney-the-younger building model planes before taking them out into the backyard on test flights, Jeannie standing on the stoop shading her eyes from the sun while watching the planes soaring over the rooftop where they'd get wedged so that John would inevitably have to drag the ladder out and climb up to retrieve the wayward planes, grumbling with every step.

Eventually the toy planes morphing into real ones, as John took Rodney with him whenever he could during his downtime, as he'd gotten work flying supplies to the Arctic, something John thought was funny, going from one ass end of the Earth to the other, but still flying.

John becoming a Canadian citizen as Jeannie nagged him that it was high time he became “official”. And, as soon as he had sworn the oath of citizenship, he'd shared the news when he visited Rodney's grave. John knew the location of the body was irrelevant, but sometimes it felt good to be somewhere where Rodney's name (thankfully, John had persuaded Jeannie to shorten “Meredith” to simply “M.”) was inscribed in stone. A solid reminder of the man he'd been.

Then it was Jessica going into Phys. Ed. while now not-so-little Rodney entered the Faculty of Music, both at UBC. Jessica coaching at the Olympics. Rodney composing music, his latest being “Pegasus in Flight”, a work for his own chamber choir.

Madison was already a successful architect. She'd always reminded John that it was staying at Canada Place that had inspired her imagination. Well, that and all the Legos she could spend her allowance on.

Now it was maybe a decade later. The basement transformed into a lab. Jeannie scribbling formulae on whiteboards, John trailing behind her while dutifully keeping track of the math. He knew Rodney would have been so proud of his sister for returning to what she excelled in.

Another decade. Scenes of Stockholm. Jeannie being awarded the Nobel in Physics, thanking both John and her late brother, Dr. M. Rodney McKay, for the opportunity to follow in his brilliant footsteps. The rapid blinking of John's eyes was the only sign he was emotionally overwhelmed and wishing Rodney could have been at his side.

Then the memories began to slow down. John, with a head full of white hair still in familiar disarray, lying in bed in his by now familiar bedroom, decades-old model planes (the same ones once stuck on the roof) suspended from the ceiling, listening to “Pegasus in Flight”, trying not to cough too loudly as “Gram” Jeannie with kids and grandkids surrounded him and read him stories until he managed to fall into a troubled sleep.

More sounds of weak but relentless coughing and then sudden darkness. Until the sun rose revealing clear blue skies.


~ ~ ~

John had been so engrossed in the not-a-memory that he didn't feel Rodney's nails digging into his hand until the vision of clear blue skies faded from his mind and he was back in the present.

Rodney's voice was strained, but at least he released some of the painful pressure on John's hand. “Shit, John. You wasted the rest of your life ... because of me.”

John released Rodney's hand, but only so he could grab him up by the upper arms and push him back far enough away so they could see eye-to-eye. “Don't be a moron, Rodney. Because of you, I got to have a life. It it hadn't been for you, and losing you, I would have most likely died a bitter, lonely man, and that's not discounting whether or not I would have survived back on Atlantis without you. Because of you, I got to have a family again, one I could influence so that they wouldn't be fucked up the way you and I were by our families. Remember, I may have been married to Nancy, but that was something I did out of false hope and for all the wrong reasons. Just think about it. The kids loved Jeannie and they loved me. I ended up adopting them all formally, including Maddie. But that was only after Jeannie swore off dating again. Besides, any guys who'd come by were intimidated, if not by me, then by three growing kids. The kids didn't have to run away from an unhappy home life to go to college. They had offers from everywhere, especially little Rodney. Full scholarships from Julliard, Salzburg, Vienna and more. Everybody wanted him, but he thought the most important thing in his life was love. He showed that love in every note he composed.”

Rodney's voice was surprisingly steady. “But what about you, John? Where was your love?”

John was silent, far longer than felt comfortable. Finally, he lifted his right hand from Rodney's arm, so he could press his palm against his own heart. “In here, whether you had the mental capacity of a two-year old or were the crotchety, sweater-clad geezer – oh, by the way, you now know I lied, because you still had all your hair - who'd dedicated himself to bringing me back from the future. There was no way on Earth – or anywhere else - I was going to betray that. Ever.”

Rodney's voice was hesitant – stuttering. “I – I had n-no idea that I felt that way. I'd never given it any conscious thought. It's just the way things were between us. I only knew what I had to do, whether I was running to you in the middle of the night or apparently the past-future-me devoting every waking hour working on a miracle.”

John hated the idea of giving up physical contact with Rodney, but had to release his other arm. He didn't want Rodney's reaction to be swayed by bodily hunger. “So, now that you know, what do you feel?”

Rodney winced. “You want me to unravel every emotion I've felt toward you, whether I've lived it or it belongs to another Rodney-who-was-or-will-be-someday, and give you an answer this minute? How can I possibly give you an honest reply when half of me is dazed, half flattered and half terrified which, even with my genius, is a half too many. You need to back off and let me process things.”

John scrabbled backwards away from the warm solidity of Rodney's body.

Rodney grabbed a hold of John's trademark black tee, halting his retreat. “I didn't mean physically, you idiot. I've missed having someone to touch, not that you're just a body. But I need time. That's all.”

John let out the breath he felt he'd been holding in since he'd made his declaration. “I can do that. It's cool. No pressure. So, now that you know most of what I know, how about we get some sleep. I'm wiped and think you're in no better shape.”

Rodney nodded without saying a word. With only a look between them, they spread out the sleeping bags, close enough that they could reach out to one another, should either have a nightmare following the painful revelations. Only when the lamps were dimmed and the two men stretched out did Rodney speak. “I'm glad you had a good life, John.”

John lifted his head and shook it, certain Rodney would see the movement even in the dim light. “Rodney, it wasn't my life. I'm still living this one and hope I will for a very long time.”

Rodney sighed. “Alternate reality can be a real bitch.”

John laughed. “Don't forget the bastard who ditched her at the side of the road.”

Their joined laughter felt good and in a few minutes their breathing had evened out and they slept. No nightmares intruded.

~ ~ ~
(Continued to PART THREE: http://helenkacan.dreamwidth.org/750652.html#cutid1)
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