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PART THREE:
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Day Five: The next morning was an unseasonable grey. John knew he certainly wouldn't enjoy any outdoor activity without the warmth of the sun and was more than certain that Rodney wouldn't even step outside. So, he cajoled Rodney to show him the program and the algorithm that had detected Skippy's presence, even in a roundabout way. John knew that Rodney was always eager to talk about his brilliant leaps of innovation. And John always loved seeing Rodney sputter in mock-outrage whenever John asked a question that wasn't entirely moronic. This was exactly the kind of temporary retreat from the emotional minefields, the ones they'd already slogged through and what still lay ahead. John also reasoned that, the more he understood of Rodney's program, the better he could sway Alma in promoting it.
After Rodney had laboriously detailed how he'd separated and identified everybody's sub-cu transmitter, John felt he'd had the equivalent of a Ph.D crammed into his own skull. Mensa-material or not, he was developing a headache. So he called a halt to the brainiac after-school special. Rodney almost pouted, but changed his response when John suggested an early dinner that included a bottle of Richard's best wine.
Rodney's reply was immediate and enthusiastic. “Hell, yeah. Though we may need more than just one bottle. I don't know if I have the energy to chew meat tonight. How about broiled salmon steaks, garlic mashed tormack and sliced tomatoes with chopped onion. And cherry pie for dessert.”
John stood up and pulled Rodney to his feet. “Works for me. So ... a couple bottles of Chardonnay?”
“Right. If you put them in the cooler, they'll be ready when dinner is.”
Both men moved into the cooking area of the dwelling and worked in silence, though this time it felt warm and companionable to John, unlike the awkwardness on their first day. After dinner they lingered with the rest of the wine.
What Rodney didn't yet know was that John wasn't finished sharing with him.
As they leaned back against the cushions and enjoyed the fire, John could only hope that Rodney would still feel comfortable with him tomorrow. But he said nothing as the two men prepared for sleep.
Day Six: The next day, John suggested a sugar-heavy breakfast. He wanted Rodney to be suffused with serotonin. Rodney had no idea he was a guinea pig, but simply dug into the spread of coffee, toast, jam, bagels, cream cheese and fruit.
Before lunch, they played Prime/Not Prime, something they hadn't done in a long time. John liked watching Rodney sputter whenever he gave him a ridiculously easy Not Prime number. They continued to tease each other during their meal of turkey burgers and salad (so Carson wouldn't nag them about contracting scurvy). While the hours meandered by, John kept reminding himself that Rodney shouldn't ... wouldn't hate him for what John felt he needed to reveal. Or, at least what Skippy thought John should reveal. Damned Ancients and their delusions of superiority. Though at least Skippy had retained the most humanity. Not surprising, considering he'd avoided the other Ancients most of the time, Ascended or not.
John convinced Rodney to start dinner early. They sliced most of the remaining vegetables and layered them as if preparing ratatouille, though without all the garlic, because they were sleeping close to the food prep area. While the stew simmered, the flatbread crisped on the grill.
John also suggested that they shower before dinner so that they wouldn't need to do it before bed. When Rodney returned, he was wearing a new pullover with horizontal charcoal and navy stripes. John swallowed through the lump in his throat. Rodney looked really, really good in it. John wondered if it had been a gift from Jeannie. After John had taken his own shower, he came back wearing his favourite blue plaid shirt. He noticed Rodney glancing at him throughout dinner, as they enjoyed their food and a bottle of Grenache.
After their meal, they settled back on the cozy couch before the fireplace. John had deliberately not suggested dessert as he wanted Rodney to be focused on what was about to happen. Luckily, Rodney was full and hadn't noticed.
John turned to face Rodney. “Do you still trust me?”
Predictably, Rodney puffed out his chest. “What now? I thought we were done with the doom'n'gloom stuff.”
John nodded. “Oh, we are, we definitely are. Nobody dying. Buuuuut....”
Rodney's voice rose in irritation. “But what, Sheppard? Just what are you hiding now?”
John scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Uh ... Skippy showed me more of life in the future. Don't get me wrong, it's a good life – lives – but what I'm about to show you may shock you.”
This time Rodney definitely rolled his eyes. “We live on Atlantis, are friends with aliens and sorta, kinda defeated the Wraith. And you think I'll be shocked?”
John shrugged his shoulders. “Uh ... yeah. Maybe?”
In response Rodney growled. “Sheppard.”
“Okay, okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. You've gotta turn to face me.” When Rodney complied, John continued. “Now give me both hands.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Both of Rodney's hands were well out of reach, each tucked stubbornly under the opposite arm.
“Look, Rodney. I don't even know if this will work, because Skippy didn't share it with you. So, please, just hold my hands.”
Rodney sighed but didn't complain any further. He took John's hands.
“Remember, I'm not sharing any of this to hurt you. But somewhere, this is happening or will happen to us. Alternate Johns and Rodneys. Or future us. Whatever.”
Rodney glared at John, but his look dissipated as he noted John's gentle gaze. And then he was falling through a wormhole, ending up on his bed, though he wasn't alone. John was with him. He was with John. Rodney's focus was split in two. Though he was seeing the visions through John, he somehow knew John was watching intently and gauging his reactions.
Rodney struggled to form words. “This is – this is – I'm not supposed to know what you look like when you're having sex. Or what I look like. Or you, with me. This is like the most narcissistic porn ever. That, or Skippy decided to play a nasty joke on both of us.”
John rubbed soft circles over the backs of Rodney's hands. “Shhh. It's not just sex. Just pay attention.”
Rodney squirmed, feeling especially vulnerable holding John's hands, but was grateful to see the bed and nakedness gone. Though in this scene, there was still kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. They were on Atlantis and didn't look to be much older than their current ages, but they were dressed up, Rodney in a very well-fitting tux and John in his Dress Blues. The room they were in was decorated with small trees and flowers, there were numerous round tables covered in bright cloths and – Rodney's mouth fell open – a chocolate and vanilla wedding cake topped with two grooms. He sputtered, “You – me – we get married???” Rodney's voice hit a new height of screechiness.
John simply held Rodney's hands more tightly. There was a lot more for Rodney to digest. Though he had to admit that he and Rodney made a fine couple on the dance floor. With lots of pauses for more kissing. God, but Rodney was a terrific kisser.
John continued to hold Rodney's hands, though he didn't need to exert much pressure. Rodney seemed to be wholly engrossed in the visions and only occasionally muttered something, usually in a sarcastic tone.
By the time the visions had run their course, Rodney had witnessed each of them fathering a child with Athosian surrogates (sisters, maybe, or cousins), eventually moving back to Earth. Both teaching in Boston, or in New York attending a Broadway show that Rodney was convinced John had twisted his arm to see, or in Vancouver visiting Jeannie, their combined brood making a racket in the background.
Rodney wasn't sure if this was the vision of a single linear future time-line (because it certainly looked like it) or whether there were enough similarities among the various time-lines to make the outcomes fairly uniform.
There were more scenes but Rodney simply could not absorb them. Even so, he knew that John would remind him of what he'd missed. As often as necessary, the rat.
Finally, John released Rodney's hands and Rodney slumped back against the cushions. “Is this – is this what's supposed to happen? What will happen between us?” Rodney didn't know whether he wanted a confirmation or a denial.
John reached out to rub Rodney's shoulder. “Look, Rodney, none of this will happen if you don't feel – or don't think you feel - the same way I do about you. I've loved you for a long time, but didn't think it would ever lead to anything, even when the rules changed. You were my best friend and I was okay with that. Not thrilled, just being realistic. I figured you'd finally get the girl, become hitched and I'd end up being Uncle John to the kids. It would have been the easiest way to stay in your life, even if I was always on the outside.” John rubbed his jaw, uncertain if he should continue. “And, yeah, I'm gay, though I thought I could make things work with Nancy. “
Rodney snorted when he heard that. “You sure had unrealistic hopes.”
John was calm as he replied, “I don't think I'm the only one who swallowed the party line, pal.”
Rodney nodded. “To a point, you're right. Even in academia I had to be careful until I got my first PhD. And, then, I think people cared more whether I yelled at them than who I slept with.”
“So you...?” John waved his hand, as if to suggest that Rodney wasn't as innocent when it came to sex with guys and wasn't disappointed when Rodney nodded, jerking his head twice.
“Well, that's a relief, knowing that Skippy wasn't potentially making all of this up.”
Rodney put his hands in the air, as if to push himself away from John. “Whoa, now. That's a big leap to go from 'has slept with guys' to 'falls in love with John Sheppard'.”
“But it's still a step and not an impossibility.” John looked at Rodney with such a hopeful expression on his face that Rodney quirked an eyebrow. That seemed to be good enough for John. For the moment.
“So...?”
“So....”
They looked at each other, neither able to say anything else. Considering how much John had revealed, it wasn't surprising.
John began again. “So, I think we ought to go to bed – uh, I mean sleep.” John grimaced, wondering if all of their future conversations would be just as stilted. And ripe for misunderstanding.
Rodney nodded. “No, no, I agree. Sleep sounds good.”
As they laid out their bedding, John was relieved to note that Rodney had not pushed his bag away from John's. It was still close enough they could reach one another. For John that was a small victory. But he had not expected to hear a quivering “John” when the lamps were put out. When he leaned over, he saw that Rodney's eyes were closed, but one arm was reaching in his direction. He reached out and squeezed Rodney's hand. “Goodnight, Rodney. Go to sleep, buddy.”
Rodney squeezed back before withdrawing his hand. And then there was silence.
Day Seven: The following day John woke up well before Rodney. He showered and dressed quickly and packed some food. When Rodney opened his eyes, he saw that John was wearing his outdoor clothes.
“What's wrong? Do we need more fresh water?”
“Nah. Everything's okay. I just thought I'd fly up the mountain and get a better look at the terrain, especially if we're going to bring others from the city.”
Rodney's voice sounded nervous. “Are we – are we okay?”
John moved over to pat Rodney on the back. “Yeah, we are. It's just that we've been together for six days non-stop. I really do need to survey the site and figure you'd be bored while I'm doing it. But I thought you probably wouldn't mind having some time to yourself.”
Rodney grumbled, “You know it drives me crazy when you make sense.”
John grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Aw, Rodney. You think I make sense?”
Rodney mock-scowled while John laughed. At least it wasn't the mountain-shattering braying. “Stay in touch. Check in every hour?”
John nodded. “Yes, Mom. Permission to leave?”
Rodney nearly pushed him out the door, then turned back to check if John had left him something for breakfast and lunch. It was a good thing he had, because a hungry Rodney was usually a cranky Rodney.
Though Rodney feared the day would drag on as his thoughts overwhelmed him, he was surprised to see how quickly the hours flew by, marked by John's regular check-ins. Between the check-ins and the music he listened to, he barely had any time to dissect and tear apart the visions and was actually surprised when John walked through the door.
John had some broken evergreen branches in his arms that he tossed onto the woodpile. “I thought we'd add some holiday scent to the fire tonight.”
Rodney shrugged. “If you grew up in a country filled with trees, one evergreen would seem to be the same as any other. But if it makes you happy, go right ahead and be ... festive. Rodney ended up smirking at the confused look on John's face. Perhaps he'd overdone the emphasis on “festive”?
“I put supper together while you were out. It's not much, but I'm sure it'll warm you up.” Rodney pointed to the pot on the rack where the grab bag vegetable soup was bubbling. And the BLT sandwiches on a nearby plate.
John smiled back and nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “I'll be back. Just need a quick hot shower.” When he returned ten minutes later, the food was on the table. He noticed there was no wine, but did not comment. However, he did smile again when Rodney brought out chocolate pudding cups. Nobody could ever go wrong with those.
After dinner, they sat on their couch. John entertained Rodney with a summary of everything he'd seen during the day. And then surprised Rodney by proposing a trip together to the top of the mountain on their final full day there. Rodney looked hesitant but finally said “yes”. He knew how much John liked to fly and agreed it would be a good end to their vacation from Atlantis. Once they returned, they'd be up to their necks in new disasters while Alma tsked and shook her head. Though Rodney admired and respected her, he did not like being the target of her tsks.
After they'd laid out the sleeping bags, John reached for Rodney's hand. Rodney reached back and squeezed it, but did not let go. John sighed in contentment. When they fell asleep, their hands relaxed but stayed in close proximity.
Day Eight: In the morning, both men were busy getting ready to leave as soon as they'd eaten breakfast, a quick cheese omelet with toast that John had prepared. When they took off, the sun was bright, illuminating the tops of the few puffy clouds in the sky.
John flew over the area he'd surveyed yesterday and then landed on a wide ledge on the top of the mountain. While Rodney fretted about the risk of an avalanche, John promised not to yell – or yodel – so Rodney had nothing to fear. Rodney put his hands on his hips, as if to say “are you kidding me”. The eye-roll was a bonus.
With John leading the way, Rodney had no choice but to follow. Still, he trudged through the snow, stepping deliberately into John's footsteps. When John stopped, it was against a massive tree trunk. Rodney was forced to stop a couple of steps sooner, otherwise he would have bowled John over into the snow. Not that something so accidental might not be amusing, but Rodney preferred not to give John any reason to ... return the favour.
John spread his arms wide. “So, whaddya think?”
Rodney turned and surveyed the vista around him: nothing but sky against the dazzling white mountaintop. For a moment he could appreciate the beauty and even said it, adding that he hoped it wouldn't lead to John singing The Hills Are Alive ... With the Sound of Music in his presence. And then his stomach emitted a distinctive grumble, possibly as an editorial comment.
John laughed, the sound so much like actual music to Rodney's ears. The revelations of the past few days had made it clear to Rodney that John needed to laugh, needed to have a reason to laugh. If it meant that Rodney had to follow him up a mountain, then he would do it. But, preferably, in conjunction with food.
John must have interpreted his expression correctly, so turned and led them back to where he'd landed the 'jumper. He pulled out the small camping stove as well as a cooler bag, setting them down at the foot of the ramp. And then reached into a side compartment for a 6-pack of beer. Rodney noted it was Belgian, not John's typical American brand. But what was thoroughly American was their lunch of hot dogs on buns, coleslaw and potato chips.
When John raised the ramp so they could warm up inside the 'jumper, but suggested they stay overnight, Rodney was initially hesitant. First of all there was the matter of food, as John had packed only enough for lunch. But John surprised him again, showing where he'd stowed away several MREs, all of them Rodney's favourites.
Rodney's eyes widened. “You turkey! I brought all sorts of mostly-healthy fresh foods and you packed beer and MREs?”
John shrugged, nonchalantly. “Hey, it all worked out, didn't it? After all, nobody insisted you bring healthy stuff, right? Though who ended up cooking most of the time, huh?”
Rodney was forced to nod in agreement. If he'd been here with – okay, no, he wasn't going to finish that thought, even though he was pretty sure there would most likely have been more nagging about proper nutrition. But he'd selected the food because he thought that both John and he would enjoy it. And they had. So, really, it had been no hardship on his part.
John quirked an eyebrow. “You know I'm right.”
Rodney raised his arms in surrender. “Yes, yes, you're so right. But the reversal in eating habits is disturbing, even horrifying.”
“I'm sure you'll survive. It's not the most shocking thing that's happened to you lately, you know.”
Rodney grimaced. “Chasing after you and that kid trumps anything as mundane as what I'm eating.”
John's voice was unnaturally quiet in reply. “And you'll never have to chase after him again. He's gone for good, Rodney.”
“I'm sorry.”
John's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Why? It's not as if it would have worked out. You know ... an Ancient with ... me. Especially not after the revelations.”
Rodney nodded. “No, you're right. Those changed everything.”
The two men continued to talk, referencing the visions of the future. Rodney asked some intensely personal questions, but John was through hiding his true feelings, now that Skippy had uncovered everything.
Rodney remarked that he couldn't wait to meet Dave. John grimaced, adding that this time Dave's hilarious perception of “civilian contractor” equalling “boyfriend” would in fact be correct. Naturally, Rodney objected to the prospect of being introduced as a mere “civilian contractor”. John's suggested “overlord with minions” seemed to calm him down again. John added he couldn't wait to see Dave's face after such an introduction.
Then Rodney mentioned that Jeannie wouldn't let him live this down – not for years – after she'd nagged him about settling, just to be married.
“I'm just glad you didn't go through with it, with Katie ... or Jennifer. And I'm not just saying that for selfish reasons.”
“Yeah, I know.” Rodney sighed ... a weary drawn-out breath. “But when my sister gets focused on something, she doesn't let go easily, if at all.”
“I wouldn't worry. She'll have to go through me to get to you.”
Rodney punched John in the arm. “Oh, my hero. How did I ever survive before you came along?”
“Ouch. Cut it out. And I think you did all right with that quick wit and sharp tongue.”
“You know I can still turn that sharp tongue against you, Sheppard.”
“Mmm. That's what I'm looking forward to.” John's voice had turned low and husky.
“You – you. You're not supposed to mention that!”
“Can't help it. The thought of what I hope I'll eventually get to do with you is going to keep me company on many sleepless nights.”
“I so do not want to know what you can or cannot help thinking ... or doing, if it involves me. And you said you'd be patient. So, be patient.” Rodney had crossed his arms into one of his I'm not budging poses. “Now, are we done with the introspection sliding into gratuitous lust and can we move on to dinner? These MREs aren't going to eat themselves.”
Naturally, John couldn't help but laugh – again - and they settled down to a quick dinner. John curbed any impatient tendencies to hurry the future by promising himself a good dream or three, though he thought he'd better wait until he was sleeping alone. Just in case.
Rodney, though, hadn't received that particular mental memo, so John was surprised – even shocked – after they'd turned the lights off and were lying side-by-side in their sleeping bags (that John had surreptitiously stowed on board), to feel Rodney's body shifting toward his. Seconds later, he felt a puff of warm breath on his face followed by a too-brief press of lips on his own.
John's quiet though confused “Rodney?” was met with a brief squeeze of his shoulder.
“Just consider it a down payment on the future, Sheppard.”
John's voice remained steady though his heart was thumping wildly. “So you're admitting we do have a future? Isn't that like believing in fortune tellers?”
Rodney huffed. “Nothing at all like that. But dozens if not hundreds of Rodney McKays can't all be wrong, so I'll place my trust in their judgement.”
John chuckled. “Gee, Rodney, I'm sure all of their respective John Sheppards feel so relieved to have your blessing.”
Rodney let out a theatrical sigh. “Aren't you asleep yet? Or should I bounce something off one of the more tender spots on your skull?”
John's laugh was more energetic this time. “Hey, you kissed me. So you can't hit my head. It's against the rules.”
“I don't suppose you have that particular rule book handy?”
“Don't need it. It's all up here.” John tapped the side of his head for emphasis. “And that's the other reason for not hitting my head. Of course,” he smirked, “if you still want to hit me, you'll have to kiss it better.”
Rodney groused back, “I'd rather kiss Zelenka.”
“Now that's odd. I don't recall seeing any visions with Radek in them, though I believe he was having a good time dancing at our wedding. Or most of them. Also muttering something about it being high time you got laid regularly. Though, as it was half in Czech, I could be mistaken. And shouldn't you have used the standard 'I'd rather kiss a Wookie' response? Though I kinda like the idea of being a 'scruffy nerfherder' myself.”
Rodney growled one syllable in exaggerated exasperation, “Joooohn.”
“Sorry, can't talk. Gotta sleep now.” With that, John pounced on Rodney and gave him a very quick kiss before rolling away onto his side. The sound of John's fake snoring filled the interior of the 'jumper, but it soon changed to the even breathing of real sleep.
Day Nine: The sun was already high in the sky as John and Rodney awoke. Despite the fact that they'd roughed it, they'd slept well. After a quick breakfast of MREs again, John flew them back to the lodge. It didn't take them long to tidy up the living space and pack up their belongings – much less without the food they'd consumed – and load the 'jumper.
Before they took off, Rodney quietly observed, “You know, Skippy saved you the need to actually tell me how you felt about me.”
John groaned. “Don't I know it. Just remember, any time I keep stuff bottled up inside, you have my permission to jab me with your elbow.”
Rodney grinned. “So you'll add that as an addendum in your rule book?”
John tapped his forehead twice with unrestrained glee. “Already done!”
They continued to banter back and forth during their return trip to Atlantis. As soon as they landed, John hailed Teyla and Ronon and asked if they'd care to join them for a reunion dinner, just the four of them.
Rodney and John separated, in order to return to their quarters with their individual belongings, and to check in with their seconds. John made sure to radio Rodney an hour before dinner, so he'd actually show up on time. Rodney grumbled, but was in the Mess before the others arrived.
Dinner among the four former teammates was a reminder of the close friendships they'd formed and still maintained, even if they weren't in contact as often.
Teyla remarked that they both seemed to be very relaxed.
Rodney raised a finger in objection. “How could I relax when his snoring kept me awake night after night?”
John jumped in, protesting. “I snore? You're the one with the big mouth, McKay. You snored more!”
Ronon grinned. “Actually, you both snore.”
Teyla's voice was sweet as she added, “It is my observation that all of you snore, whenever I have had to share sleeping quarters with you.” She gave them her serene smile and not one of them dared to refute her.
Then Rodney managed to change the topic, telling their friends about his program and what he'd be proposing at the next senior staff. They didn't mention anything about their deaths or foreknowledge of the future, not wanting to give Alma the impression of playing favourites.
John talked about the flights he'd made to the mountaintop and how he'd dragged Rodney outdoors several times during the week. Ronon clapped Rodney on the back and challenged him to a contest of outdoor survival which sent Rodney into a coughing fit that morphed into sputtering protestations.
Finally, the four parted at the end of a most enjoyable evening. John proposed they make it a habit to have dinner together on a regular basis. As expected, all agreed. Rodney appeared to be the most affected by the warm renewal of friendships, as he'd been the most isolated by recent events.
When the two men arrived at a juncture in the hallway, Rodney seemed the most reluctant to veer off toward his own quarters, to say goodnight to John. But he couldn't put it off any longer, so gave a forlorn little wave before turning and walking away quickly.
He was surprised to get a call on his comm from John a minute later. He squawked, “What now? I thought we were going to sleep, back to the old grind, big day ahead tomorrow, convincing Alma and all that nonsense!”
John chuckled. “Open your door, Rodney.”
“What? Why? Is this some sort of a trick?”
John sighed. “Just do it, Rodney.” He could hear Rodney muttering as he took the few steps.
As the door to Rodney's quarters slid open, John wasn't anywhere to be seen. But, sitting on the floor were two butterscotch pudding cups. Rodney picked them up and stepped back, allowing the door to close, and then remembered that John was still on the other end. “John?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Are you dumping your camping leftovers on my doorstep? Or are they supposed to be a souvenir?”
“Just thought you'd like them. Have one before bed. You'll sleep better.”
Rodney was silent for a moment. “You know, this feels weird.”
“What?”
“Not sleeping next to you.”
John sighed. “Yeah, it's a transition. But maybe we can....”
“Well, not immediately. I'm a busy man, you know, and I have to get back to lording over my minions.”
“Right, because you wouldn't want me to have to lie to Dave.”
“No-no-no. You should never lie to Dave ... well, at least not about me.”
“Don't worry, Rodney. I won't.”
“Okay, then. And ... thanks for the pudding.”
“You're welcome, buddy. Sleep well.”
As John prepared to go to sleep, he imagined Rodney with the pudding cup, licking the spoon and moaning. He had good memories - real ones - of Rodney's moans. Okay, so they were only over food, but he could transpose them to other activities. And he did have that promise to keep to himself, of a few really good dreams.
For the time being, he'd busy himself with work, with helping to keep them all alive on Atlantis, and allow the future to look after itself. He didn't need to flip a coin, he was so certain that Rodney would be there for him. And, eventually, with him.
After all, he really wanted to burst Dave's pompous shield, and was sure Rodney would like to put a few holes through Jeannie's delusions of moral superiority.
It was good to have goals in life. They might not be normal ones, but then neither was his life. And, if it hadn't been for Skippy, he wouldn't have a life to look forward to with Rodney in it. So, he really was more fine than he'd ever been in his life. He just wouldn't let Rodney know, not right away, as the man might smack him – right in the rulebook! John fell asleep, still smiling.
END
PART THREE:
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Day Five: The next morning was an unseasonable grey. John knew he certainly wouldn't enjoy any outdoor activity without the warmth of the sun and was more than certain that Rodney wouldn't even step outside. So, he cajoled Rodney to show him the program and the algorithm that had detected Skippy's presence, even in a roundabout way. John knew that Rodney was always eager to talk about his brilliant leaps of innovation. And John always loved seeing Rodney sputter in mock-outrage whenever John asked a question that wasn't entirely moronic. This was exactly the kind of temporary retreat from the emotional minefields, the ones they'd already slogged through and what still lay ahead. John also reasoned that, the more he understood of Rodney's program, the better he could sway Alma in promoting it.
After Rodney had laboriously detailed how he'd separated and identified everybody's sub-cu transmitter, John felt he'd had the equivalent of a Ph.D crammed into his own skull. Mensa-material or not, he was developing a headache. So he called a halt to the brainiac after-school special. Rodney almost pouted, but changed his response when John suggested an early dinner that included a bottle of Richard's best wine.
Rodney's reply was immediate and enthusiastic. “Hell, yeah. Though we may need more than just one bottle. I don't know if I have the energy to chew meat tonight. How about broiled salmon steaks, garlic mashed tormack and sliced tomatoes with chopped onion. And cherry pie for dessert.”
John stood up and pulled Rodney to his feet. “Works for me. So ... a couple bottles of Chardonnay?”
“Right. If you put them in the cooler, they'll be ready when dinner is.”
Both men moved into the cooking area of the dwelling and worked in silence, though this time it felt warm and companionable to John, unlike the awkwardness on their first day. After dinner they lingered with the rest of the wine.
What Rodney didn't yet know was that John wasn't finished sharing with him.
As they leaned back against the cushions and enjoyed the fire, John could only hope that Rodney would still feel comfortable with him tomorrow. But he said nothing as the two men prepared for sleep.
Day Six: The next day, John suggested a sugar-heavy breakfast. He wanted Rodney to be suffused with serotonin. Rodney had no idea he was a guinea pig, but simply dug into the spread of coffee, toast, jam, bagels, cream cheese and fruit.
Before lunch, they played Prime/Not Prime, something they hadn't done in a long time. John liked watching Rodney sputter whenever he gave him a ridiculously easy Not Prime number. They continued to tease each other during their meal of turkey burgers and salad (so Carson wouldn't nag them about contracting scurvy). While the hours meandered by, John kept reminding himself that Rodney shouldn't ... wouldn't hate him for what John felt he needed to reveal. Or, at least what Skippy thought John should reveal. Damned Ancients and their delusions of superiority. Though at least Skippy had retained the most humanity. Not surprising, considering he'd avoided the other Ancients most of the time, Ascended or not.
John convinced Rodney to start dinner early. They sliced most of the remaining vegetables and layered them as if preparing ratatouille, though without all the garlic, because they were sleeping close to the food prep area. While the stew simmered, the flatbread crisped on the grill.
John also suggested that they shower before dinner so that they wouldn't need to do it before bed. When Rodney returned, he was wearing a new pullover with horizontal charcoal and navy stripes. John swallowed through the lump in his throat. Rodney looked really, really good in it. John wondered if it had been a gift from Jeannie. After John had taken his own shower, he came back wearing his favourite blue plaid shirt. He noticed Rodney glancing at him throughout dinner, as they enjoyed their food and a bottle of Grenache.
After their meal, they settled back on the cozy couch before the fireplace. John had deliberately not suggested dessert as he wanted Rodney to be focused on what was about to happen. Luckily, Rodney was full and hadn't noticed.
John turned to face Rodney. “Do you still trust me?”
Predictably, Rodney puffed out his chest. “What now? I thought we were done with the doom'n'gloom stuff.”
John nodded. “Oh, we are, we definitely are. Nobody dying. Buuuuut....”
Rodney's voice rose in irritation. “But what, Sheppard? Just what are you hiding now?”
John scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Uh ... Skippy showed me more of life in the future. Don't get me wrong, it's a good life – lives – but what I'm about to show you may shock you.”
This time Rodney definitely rolled his eyes. “We live on Atlantis, are friends with aliens and sorta, kinda defeated the Wraith. And you think I'll be shocked?”
John shrugged his shoulders. “Uh ... yeah. Maybe?”
In response Rodney growled. “Sheppard.”
“Okay, okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. You've gotta turn to face me.” When Rodney complied, John continued. “Now give me both hands.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Both of Rodney's hands were well out of reach, each tucked stubbornly under the opposite arm.
“Look, Rodney. I don't even know if this will work, because Skippy didn't share it with you. So, please, just hold my hands.”
Rodney sighed but didn't complain any further. He took John's hands.
“Remember, I'm not sharing any of this to hurt you. But somewhere, this is happening or will happen to us. Alternate Johns and Rodneys. Or future us. Whatever.”
Rodney glared at John, but his look dissipated as he noted John's gentle gaze. And then he was falling through a wormhole, ending up on his bed, though he wasn't alone. John was with him. He was with John. Rodney's focus was split in two. Though he was seeing the visions through John, he somehow knew John was watching intently and gauging his reactions.
Rodney struggled to form words. “This is – this is – I'm not supposed to know what you look like when you're having sex. Or what I look like. Or you, with me. This is like the most narcissistic porn ever. That, or Skippy decided to play a nasty joke on both of us.”
John rubbed soft circles over the backs of Rodney's hands. “Shhh. It's not just sex. Just pay attention.”
Rodney squirmed, feeling especially vulnerable holding John's hands, but was grateful to see the bed and nakedness gone. Though in this scene, there was still kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. They were on Atlantis and didn't look to be much older than their current ages, but they were dressed up, Rodney in a very well-fitting tux and John in his Dress Blues. The room they were in was decorated with small trees and flowers, there were numerous round tables covered in bright cloths and – Rodney's mouth fell open – a chocolate and vanilla wedding cake topped with two grooms. He sputtered, “You – me – we get married???” Rodney's voice hit a new height of screechiness.
John simply held Rodney's hands more tightly. There was a lot more for Rodney to digest. Though he had to admit that he and Rodney made a fine couple on the dance floor. With lots of pauses for more kissing. God, but Rodney was a terrific kisser.
John continued to hold Rodney's hands, though he didn't need to exert much pressure. Rodney seemed to be wholly engrossed in the visions and only occasionally muttered something, usually in a sarcastic tone.
By the time the visions had run their course, Rodney had witnessed each of them fathering a child with Athosian surrogates (sisters, maybe, or cousins), eventually moving back to Earth. Both teaching in Boston, or in New York attending a Broadway show that Rodney was convinced John had twisted his arm to see, or in Vancouver visiting Jeannie, their combined brood making a racket in the background.
Rodney wasn't sure if this was the vision of a single linear future time-line (because it certainly looked like it) or whether there were enough similarities among the various time-lines to make the outcomes fairly uniform.
There were more scenes but Rodney simply could not absorb them. Even so, he knew that John would remind him of what he'd missed. As often as necessary, the rat.
Finally, John released Rodney's hands and Rodney slumped back against the cushions. “Is this – is this what's supposed to happen? What will happen between us?” Rodney didn't know whether he wanted a confirmation or a denial.
John reached out to rub Rodney's shoulder. “Look, Rodney, none of this will happen if you don't feel – or don't think you feel - the same way I do about you. I've loved you for a long time, but didn't think it would ever lead to anything, even when the rules changed. You were my best friend and I was okay with that. Not thrilled, just being realistic. I figured you'd finally get the girl, become hitched and I'd end up being Uncle John to the kids. It would have been the easiest way to stay in your life, even if I was always on the outside.” John rubbed his jaw, uncertain if he should continue. “And, yeah, I'm gay, though I thought I could make things work with Nancy. “
Rodney snorted when he heard that. “You sure had unrealistic hopes.”
John was calm as he replied, “I don't think I'm the only one who swallowed the party line, pal.”
Rodney nodded. “To a point, you're right. Even in academia I had to be careful until I got my first PhD. And, then, I think people cared more whether I yelled at them than who I slept with.”
“So you...?” John waved his hand, as if to suggest that Rodney wasn't as innocent when it came to sex with guys and wasn't disappointed when Rodney nodded, jerking his head twice.
“Well, that's a relief, knowing that Skippy wasn't potentially making all of this up.”
Rodney put his hands in the air, as if to push himself away from John. “Whoa, now. That's a big leap to go from 'has slept with guys' to 'falls in love with John Sheppard'.”
“But it's still a step and not an impossibility.” John looked at Rodney with such a hopeful expression on his face that Rodney quirked an eyebrow. That seemed to be good enough for John. For the moment.
“So...?”
“So....”
They looked at each other, neither able to say anything else. Considering how much John had revealed, it wasn't surprising.
John began again. “So, I think we ought to go to bed – uh, I mean sleep.” John grimaced, wondering if all of their future conversations would be just as stilted. And ripe for misunderstanding.
Rodney nodded. “No, no, I agree. Sleep sounds good.”
As they laid out their bedding, John was relieved to note that Rodney had not pushed his bag away from John's. It was still close enough they could reach one another. For John that was a small victory. But he had not expected to hear a quivering “John” when the lamps were put out. When he leaned over, he saw that Rodney's eyes were closed, but one arm was reaching in his direction. He reached out and squeezed Rodney's hand. “Goodnight, Rodney. Go to sleep, buddy.”
Rodney squeezed back before withdrawing his hand. And then there was silence.
Day Seven: The following day John woke up well before Rodney. He showered and dressed quickly and packed some food. When Rodney opened his eyes, he saw that John was wearing his outdoor clothes.
“What's wrong? Do we need more fresh water?”
“Nah. Everything's okay. I just thought I'd fly up the mountain and get a better look at the terrain, especially if we're going to bring others from the city.”
Rodney's voice sounded nervous. “Are we – are we okay?”
John moved over to pat Rodney on the back. “Yeah, we are. It's just that we've been together for six days non-stop. I really do need to survey the site and figure you'd be bored while I'm doing it. But I thought you probably wouldn't mind having some time to yourself.”
Rodney grumbled, “You know it drives me crazy when you make sense.”
John grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Aw, Rodney. You think I make sense?”
Rodney mock-scowled while John laughed. At least it wasn't the mountain-shattering braying. “Stay in touch. Check in every hour?”
John nodded. “Yes, Mom. Permission to leave?”
Rodney nearly pushed him out the door, then turned back to check if John had left him something for breakfast and lunch. It was a good thing he had, because a hungry Rodney was usually a cranky Rodney.
Though Rodney feared the day would drag on as his thoughts overwhelmed him, he was surprised to see how quickly the hours flew by, marked by John's regular check-ins. Between the check-ins and the music he listened to, he barely had any time to dissect and tear apart the visions and was actually surprised when John walked through the door.
John had some broken evergreen branches in his arms that he tossed onto the woodpile. “I thought we'd add some holiday scent to the fire tonight.”
Rodney shrugged. “If you grew up in a country filled with trees, one evergreen would seem to be the same as any other. But if it makes you happy, go right ahead and be ... festive. Rodney ended up smirking at the confused look on John's face. Perhaps he'd overdone the emphasis on “festive”?
“I put supper together while you were out. It's not much, but I'm sure it'll warm you up.” Rodney pointed to the pot on the rack where the grab bag vegetable soup was bubbling. And the BLT sandwiches on a nearby plate.
John smiled back and nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “I'll be back. Just need a quick hot shower.” When he returned ten minutes later, the food was on the table. He noticed there was no wine, but did not comment. However, he did smile again when Rodney brought out chocolate pudding cups. Nobody could ever go wrong with those.
After dinner, they sat on their couch. John entertained Rodney with a summary of everything he'd seen during the day. And then surprised Rodney by proposing a trip together to the top of the mountain on their final full day there. Rodney looked hesitant but finally said “yes”. He knew how much John liked to fly and agreed it would be a good end to their vacation from Atlantis. Once they returned, they'd be up to their necks in new disasters while Alma tsked and shook her head. Though Rodney admired and respected her, he did not like being the target of her tsks.
After they'd laid out the sleeping bags, John reached for Rodney's hand. Rodney reached back and squeezed it, but did not let go. John sighed in contentment. When they fell asleep, their hands relaxed but stayed in close proximity.
Day Eight: In the morning, both men were busy getting ready to leave as soon as they'd eaten breakfast, a quick cheese omelet with toast that John had prepared. When they took off, the sun was bright, illuminating the tops of the few puffy clouds in the sky.
John flew over the area he'd surveyed yesterday and then landed on a wide ledge on the top of the mountain. While Rodney fretted about the risk of an avalanche, John promised not to yell – or yodel – so Rodney had nothing to fear. Rodney put his hands on his hips, as if to say “are you kidding me”. The eye-roll was a bonus.
With John leading the way, Rodney had no choice but to follow. Still, he trudged through the snow, stepping deliberately into John's footsteps. When John stopped, it was against a massive tree trunk. Rodney was forced to stop a couple of steps sooner, otherwise he would have bowled John over into the snow. Not that something so accidental might not be amusing, but Rodney preferred not to give John any reason to ... return the favour.
John spread his arms wide. “So, whaddya think?”
Rodney turned and surveyed the vista around him: nothing but sky against the dazzling white mountaintop. For a moment he could appreciate the beauty and even said it, adding that he hoped it wouldn't lead to John singing The Hills Are Alive ... With the Sound of Music in his presence. And then his stomach emitted a distinctive grumble, possibly as an editorial comment.
John laughed, the sound so much like actual music to Rodney's ears. The revelations of the past few days had made it clear to Rodney that John needed to laugh, needed to have a reason to laugh. If it meant that Rodney had to follow him up a mountain, then he would do it. But, preferably, in conjunction with food.
John must have interpreted his expression correctly, so turned and led them back to where he'd landed the 'jumper. He pulled out the small camping stove as well as a cooler bag, setting them down at the foot of the ramp. And then reached into a side compartment for a 6-pack of beer. Rodney noted it was Belgian, not John's typical American brand. But what was thoroughly American was their lunch of hot dogs on buns, coleslaw and potato chips.
When John raised the ramp so they could warm up inside the 'jumper, but suggested they stay overnight, Rodney was initially hesitant. First of all there was the matter of food, as John had packed only enough for lunch. But John surprised him again, showing where he'd stowed away several MREs, all of them Rodney's favourites.
Rodney's eyes widened. “You turkey! I brought all sorts of mostly-healthy fresh foods and you packed beer and MREs?”
John shrugged, nonchalantly. “Hey, it all worked out, didn't it? After all, nobody insisted you bring healthy stuff, right? Though who ended up cooking most of the time, huh?”
Rodney was forced to nod in agreement. If he'd been here with – okay, no, he wasn't going to finish that thought, even though he was pretty sure there would most likely have been more nagging about proper nutrition. But he'd selected the food because he thought that both John and he would enjoy it. And they had. So, really, it had been no hardship on his part.
John quirked an eyebrow. “You know I'm right.”
Rodney raised his arms in surrender. “Yes, yes, you're so right. But the reversal in eating habits is disturbing, even horrifying.”
“I'm sure you'll survive. It's not the most shocking thing that's happened to you lately, you know.”
Rodney grimaced. “Chasing after you and that kid trumps anything as mundane as what I'm eating.”
John's voice was unnaturally quiet in reply. “And you'll never have to chase after him again. He's gone for good, Rodney.”
“I'm sorry.”
John's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Why? It's not as if it would have worked out. You know ... an Ancient with ... me. Especially not after the revelations.”
Rodney nodded. “No, you're right. Those changed everything.”
The two men continued to talk, referencing the visions of the future. Rodney asked some intensely personal questions, but John was through hiding his true feelings, now that Skippy had uncovered everything.
Rodney remarked that he couldn't wait to meet Dave. John grimaced, adding that this time Dave's hilarious perception of “civilian contractor” equalling “boyfriend” would in fact be correct. Naturally, Rodney objected to the prospect of being introduced as a mere “civilian contractor”. John's suggested “overlord with minions” seemed to calm him down again. John added he couldn't wait to see Dave's face after such an introduction.
Then Rodney mentioned that Jeannie wouldn't let him live this down – not for years – after she'd nagged him about settling, just to be married.
“I'm just glad you didn't go through with it, with Katie ... or Jennifer. And I'm not just saying that for selfish reasons.”
“Yeah, I know.” Rodney sighed ... a weary drawn-out breath. “But when my sister gets focused on something, she doesn't let go easily, if at all.”
“I wouldn't worry. She'll have to go through me to get to you.”
Rodney punched John in the arm. “Oh, my hero. How did I ever survive before you came along?”
“Ouch. Cut it out. And I think you did all right with that quick wit and sharp tongue.”
“You know I can still turn that sharp tongue against you, Sheppard.”
“Mmm. That's what I'm looking forward to.” John's voice had turned low and husky.
“You – you. You're not supposed to mention that!”
“Can't help it. The thought of what I hope I'll eventually get to do with you is going to keep me company on many sleepless nights.”
“I so do not want to know what you can or cannot help thinking ... or doing, if it involves me. And you said you'd be patient. So, be patient.” Rodney had crossed his arms into one of his I'm not budging poses. “Now, are we done with the introspection sliding into gratuitous lust and can we move on to dinner? These MREs aren't going to eat themselves.”
Naturally, John couldn't help but laugh – again - and they settled down to a quick dinner. John curbed any impatient tendencies to hurry the future by promising himself a good dream or three, though he thought he'd better wait until he was sleeping alone. Just in case.
Rodney, though, hadn't received that particular mental memo, so John was surprised – even shocked – after they'd turned the lights off and were lying side-by-side in their sleeping bags (that John had surreptitiously stowed on board), to feel Rodney's body shifting toward his. Seconds later, he felt a puff of warm breath on his face followed by a too-brief press of lips on his own.
John's quiet though confused “Rodney?” was met with a brief squeeze of his shoulder.
“Just consider it a down payment on the future, Sheppard.”
John's voice remained steady though his heart was thumping wildly. “So you're admitting we do have a future? Isn't that like believing in fortune tellers?”
Rodney huffed. “Nothing at all like that. But dozens if not hundreds of Rodney McKays can't all be wrong, so I'll place my trust in their judgement.”
John chuckled. “Gee, Rodney, I'm sure all of their respective John Sheppards feel so relieved to have your blessing.”
Rodney let out a theatrical sigh. “Aren't you asleep yet? Or should I bounce something off one of the more tender spots on your skull?”
John's laugh was more energetic this time. “Hey, you kissed me. So you can't hit my head. It's against the rules.”
“I don't suppose you have that particular rule book handy?”
“Don't need it. It's all up here.” John tapped the side of his head for emphasis. “And that's the other reason for not hitting my head. Of course,” he smirked, “if you still want to hit me, you'll have to kiss it better.”
Rodney groused back, “I'd rather kiss Zelenka.”
“Now that's odd. I don't recall seeing any visions with Radek in them, though I believe he was having a good time dancing at our wedding. Or most of them. Also muttering something about it being high time you got laid regularly. Though, as it was half in Czech, I could be mistaken. And shouldn't you have used the standard 'I'd rather kiss a Wookie' response? Though I kinda like the idea of being a 'scruffy nerfherder' myself.”
Rodney growled one syllable in exaggerated exasperation, “Joooohn.”
“Sorry, can't talk. Gotta sleep now.” With that, John pounced on Rodney and gave him a very quick kiss before rolling away onto his side. The sound of John's fake snoring filled the interior of the 'jumper, but it soon changed to the even breathing of real sleep.
Day Nine: The sun was already high in the sky as John and Rodney awoke. Despite the fact that they'd roughed it, they'd slept well. After a quick breakfast of MREs again, John flew them back to the lodge. It didn't take them long to tidy up the living space and pack up their belongings – much less without the food they'd consumed – and load the 'jumper.
Before they took off, Rodney quietly observed, “You know, Skippy saved you the need to actually tell me how you felt about me.”
John groaned. “Don't I know it. Just remember, any time I keep stuff bottled up inside, you have my permission to jab me with your elbow.”
Rodney grinned. “So you'll add that as an addendum in your rule book?”
John tapped his forehead twice with unrestrained glee. “Already done!”
They continued to banter back and forth during their return trip to Atlantis. As soon as they landed, John hailed Teyla and Ronon and asked if they'd care to join them for a reunion dinner, just the four of them.
Rodney and John separated, in order to return to their quarters with their individual belongings, and to check in with their seconds. John made sure to radio Rodney an hour before dinner, so he'd actually show up on time. Rodney grumbled, but was in the Mess before the others arrived.
Dinner among the four former teammates was a reminder of the close friendships they'd formed and still maintained, even if they weren't in contact as often.
Teyla remarked that they both seemed to be very relaxed.
Rodney raised a finger in objection. “How could I relax when his snoring kept me awake night after night?”
John jumped in, protesting. “I snore? You're the one with the big mouth, McKay. You snored more!”
Ronon grinned. “Actually, you both snore.”
Teyla's voice was sweet as she added, “It is my observation that all of you snore, whenever I have had to share sleeping quarters with you.” She gave them her serene smile and not one of them dared to refute her.
Then Rodney managed to change the topic, telling their friends about his program and what he'd be proposing at the next senior staff. They didn't mention anything about their deaths or foreknowledge of the future, not wanting to give Alma the impression of playing favourites.
John talked about the flights he'd made to the mountaintop and how he'd dragged Rodney outdoors several times during the week. Ronon clapped Rodney on the back and challenged him to a contest of outdoor survival which sent Rodney into a coughing fit that morphed into sputtering protestations.
Finally, the four parted at the end of a most enjoyable evening. John proposed they make it a habit to have dinner together on a regular basis. As expected, all agreed. Rodney appeared to be the most affected by the warm renewal of friendships, as he'd been the most isolated by recent events.
When the two men arrived at a juncture in the hallway, Rodney seemed the most reluctant to veer off toward his own quarters, to say goodnight to John. But he couldn't put it off any longer, so gave a forlorn little wave before turning and walking away quickly.
He was surprised to get a call on his comm from John a minute later. He squawked, “What now? I thought we were going to sleep, back to the old grind, big day ahead tomorrow, convincing Alma and all that nonsense!”
John chuckled. “Open your door, Rodney.”
“What? Why? Is this some sort of a trick?”
John sighed. “Just do it, Rodney.” He could hear Rodney muttering as he took the few steps.
As the door to Rodney's quarters slid open, John wasn't anywhere to be seen. But, sitting on the floor were two butterscotch pudding cups. Rodney picked them up and stepped back, allowing the door to close, and then remembered that John was still on the other end. “John?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Are you dumping your camping leftovers on my doorstep? Or are they supposed to be a souvenir?”
“Just thought you'd like them. Have one before bed. You'll sleep better.”
Rodney was silent for a moment. “You know, this feels weird.”
“What?”
“Not sleeping next to you.”
John sighed. “Yeah, it's a transition. But maybe we can....”
“Well, not immediately. I'm a busy man, you know, and I have to get back to lording over my minions.”
“Right, because you wouldn't want me to have to lie to Dave.”
“No-no-no. You should never lie to Dave ... well, at least not about me.”
“Don't worry, Rodney. I won't.”
“Okay, then. And ... thanks for the pudding.”
“You're welcome, buddy. Sleep well.”
As John prepared to go to sleep, he imagined Rodney with the pudding cup, licking the spoon and moaning. He had good memories - real ones - of Rodney's moans. Okay, so they were only over food, but he could transpose them to other activities. And he did have that promise to keep to himself, of a few really good dreams.
For the time being, he'd busy himself with work, with helping to keep them all alive on Atlantis, and allow the future to look after itself. He didn't need to flip a coin, he was so certain that Rodney would be there for him. And, eventually, with him.
After all, he really wanted to burst Dave's pompous shield, and was sure Rodney would like to put a few holes through Jeannie's delusions of moral superiority.
It was good to have goals in life. They might not be normal ones, but then neither was his life. And, if it hadn't been for Skippy, he wouldn't have a life to look forward to with Rodney in it. So, he really was more fine than he'd ever been in his life. He just wouldn't let Rodney know, not right away, as the man might smack him – right in the rulebook! John fell asleep, still smiling.
END
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