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sga_flashficTitle: Conjunction
Author: Pollitt (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mboyd)
Rating: R
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Spoilers: Events from "The Storm”, "The Eye", "Hot Zone" and "Trinity" are alluded to.
Summary: "The third time that Rodney died in as many weeks, John decided enough was enough."
Notes: This is not a deathfic.
Thank you tocheights, josselin, kitestringer, maverick4oz, and pirl for beta, encouragement and support. Thank you to Mav for help with the title.
Conjunction: A configuration in which two celestial bodies have their least apparent separation.
The third time that Rodney died in as many weeks, John decided enough was enough. As far as he was concerned anyone who disagreed—from the Air Force to Earth’s governing bodies in general—could all hop in a pool of Jell-O and fuck themselves. He'd never really expected to make it as far as he had, up the ranks. And as cool as the job was at times, being the ranking military officer in a floating city, where people, places and things regularly tried to take a bite out of you or suck your life out through your chest really wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
The first time Rodney died there had been gunfire and Genii sympathizers, a knife wound to John's thigh and Rodney's ultimate capture. A uniformed thug even uglier than Kolya, if that was possible, announced the death, and John had to be physically restrained by Carson and Caldwell from breaking the monitor that bore the message. Not that he truly believed the death notice. Honesty was never a top priority for the Genii or their friends, and John wasn’t going to fall for it again. He’d believed Kolya when he said, “Dr. Weir is dead,” but John wasn’t about to make the same mistake again—he couldn’t, not with Rodney. But this time was different. John wasn’t waiting in another level of the city, ready to take out the bad guys, and there was no one to step in front of the gun for Rodney.
When the word came from Major Lorne and his team that Rodney had been found, alive and well and bitching up a storm, the whole of Atlantis--right down to the city herself--gave a sigh of relief, and John was front and center and limping only slightly (Beckett had wisely chosen not to argue with him about whether or not he could be discharged to meet the team at the gate) when the shield was lowered and the team-plus-one walked through the event horizon.
And if John hugged Rodney as soon as he was within arm's reach, no one questioned it. They all had been facing permanent goodbyes a little too often of late.
The second time Rodney died, there was the metallic bite of electricity, fire and an explosion that took out the eastern section of an outpost on a planet that had long since been abandoned. The promise of discovery had been too strong, and John realized he was powerless to say no to the tag team of bouncing, chattering, practically-vibrating-with-excitement McKay and Zelenka. With thoughts of Ancient defense weapons and nanoviruses never that far out of mind, every precaution was taken and every bit of the outpost (Ancient technology or not) was treated as potentially dangerous. So of course it was something as simple and unpredictable as an approaching storm sweeping in and lightning striking an Ancient fuel supply that turned the section of the outpost where Rodney and some of his science team were working into a pile of smoldering rubble.
After the ringing in their ears subsided and nothing but dead air greeted their attempts to contact anyone who had been in the destroyed section, John made it to the pile of rocks before he could think of what to do next. His hair was plastered to his head and dripping-- rivulets of rainwater running into his eyes and over the curve of his ear--and his fingers were near bloody from digging through rocks by the time Ronon, Teyla and Zelenka arrived at the wreckage to help.
When the first body was found, Ronon pushed him aside and into Zelenka, who looked as pale and terrified as John felt. As Reynold’s bloody and still face was uncovered, John felt Radek slump against him at the same time as his own legs threatened to give out.
The storm passed and everyone bore streaks of dirt and grime across their faces and uniforms as they continued to dig, calling out every few minutes for any survivors, praying for a reply. Finally, their prayers were answered and the Ancients’ version of a false-floor hiding space revealed a cache of drones and one bruised, scared and exhausted Rodney McKay.
John issued a silent order to Ronon and Teyla to cover the bodies before he reached down to help Rodney up out of the space.
And if the hug went on a little longer than normal, and if John happened to cup the nape of Rodney's neck as he held on for dear life, no one raised an eyebrow. (And if Rodney felt the brush of John’s lips against his collarbone, he didn't say anything. He just turned closer into the embrace, pressing his hands into the small of John’s back, holding on.)
The third time, John was there at his side and watched Rodney's breathing stop thanks to the fuchsia plant that the natives of the goat-worshipping Angora-land insisted on having in every room of their palace. To remove it was seen as an insult to their people, ancestors and goats. Never mind that Rodney was wheezing the second they'd walked into the meeting room—being nice to the goat herders was priority number one, and they also didn't take lightly to one of their guests attempting to get out of the traditional dance of the ram.
Of course, when Rodney went pale and his lips began to turn blue, things went from not good to bad. When he passed out onto the floor and was very nearly trampled by the dancing Ram-man, the party came to a halt.
Nothing says fun like watching a man's throat close up.
Ignoring their audience, John started the launch sequence that could make his reputation and career go up brighter than any ten nuclear bombs, cupping Rodney's face and running his thumb over his cheek. In between the demands that Rodney "breathe, dammit," John promised things that had up until that point only been whispered into sleep-warm skin in the pale gray of stolen mornings.
Which was about the time Ronon lifted Rodney over his shoulder and Teyla grabbed John’s arm, calling for an emergency team to stand ready at the gate.
He held Rodney's hand, talking to him all the way to the infirmary until Carson shooed him aside. At a loss for something to do, John collapsed in a chair next to the bed and let Teyla recount--in her (sometimes) unnervingly calm way--what had happened and why the natives probably wouldn't be too open to trade negotiations after he'd bloodied Dan the Ram-man's nose.
And if John refused to leave Rodney’s side and held his hand while Rodney slept, no one seemed to think anything out of the ordinary. Carson did, however, temporarily restrict access to the infirmary to certain personnel only.
After the third time that John nearly lost Rodney in as many weeks, he did what every Lt. Colonel in the Air Force, pilot of all things fast and head cheese of a mythical lost city would do in his situation.
He packed provisions, blankets, food and Rodney and headed for the mainland for some self-enforced R&R.
Or, to be more specific, John pinned Rodney against the side of a jumper less than an hour after Carson had released him with as clean a bill of health as Rodney could have. Before Rodney could start to ask questions, John pushed him down into the co-pilot’s chair, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until the questions were silenced and they could make their escape.
The Ancient post was far from a five-star hotel, but it had the basic necessities and it beat a tent. John made sure the jumper was cloaked and then he got to work stripping Rodney down and doing things with his hands and mouth that made Rodney fold in half in a sated heap and forget his own name. When he was done, John took Rodney's hand and led him to their bed where he did it all again.
And if Rodney wasn’t spotted working in the labs for the next several days, John didn’t show up for his sparring sessions with Teyla, and neither one of them attended the morning briefings, no one went looking for them. John, like all good boys, had made sure to leave a note.
Author: Pollitt (
mboyd)Rating: R
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Spoilers: Events from "The Storm”, "The Eye", "Hot Zone" and "Trinity" are alluded to.
Summary: "The third time that Rodney died in as many weeks, John decided enough was enough."
Notes: This is not a deathfic.
Thank you to
cheights, josselin, kitestringer, maverick4oz, and pirl for beta, encouragement and support. Thank you to Mav for help with the title. Conjunction: A configuration in which two celestial bodies have their least apparent separation.
Conjunction
The third time that Rodney died in as many weeks, John decided enough was enough. As far as he was concerned anyone who disagreed—from the Air Force to Earth’s governing bodies in general—could all hop in a pool of Jell-O and fuck themselves. He'd never really expected to make it as far as he had, up the ranks. And as cool as the job was at times, being the ranking military officer in a floating city, where people, places and things regularly tried to take a bite out of you or suck your life out through your chest really wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
The first time Rodney died there had been gunfire and Genii sympathizers, a knife wound to John's thigh and Rodney's ultimate capture. A uniformed thug even uglier than Kolya, if that was possible, announced the death, and John had to be physically restrained by Carson and Caldwell from breaking the monitor that bore the message. Not that he truly believed the death notice. Honesty was never a top priority for the Genii or their friends, and John wasn’t going to fall for it again. He’d believed Kolya when he said, “Dr. Weir is dead,” but John wasn’t about to make the same mistake again—he couldn’t, not with Rodney. But this time was different. John wasn’t waiting in another level of the city, ready to take out the bad guys, and there was no one to step in front of the gun for Rodney.
When the word came from Major Lorne and his team that Rodney had been found, alive and well and bitching up a storm, the whole of Atlantis--right down to the city herself--gave a sigh of relief, and John was front and center and limping only slightly (Beckett had wisely chosen not to argue with him about whether or not he could be discharged to meet the team at the gate) when the shield was lowered and the team-plus-one walked through the event horizon.
And if John hugged Rodney as soon as he was within arm's reach, no one questioned it. They all had been facing permanent goodbyes a little too often of late.
The second time Rodney died, there was the metallic bite of electricity, fire and an explosion that took out the eastern section of an outpost on a planet that had long since been abandoned. The promise of discovery had been too strong, and John realized he was powerless to say no to the tag team of bouncing, chattering, practically-vibrating-with-excitement McKay and Zelenka. With thoughts of Ancient defense weapons and nanoviruses never that far out of mind, every precaution was taken and every bit of the outpost (Ancient technology or not) was treated as potentially dangerous. So of course it was something as simple and unpredictable as an approaching storm sweeping in and lightning striking an Ancient fuel supply that turned the section of the outpost where Rodney and some of his science team were working into a pile of smoldering rubble.
After the ringing in their ears subsided and nothing but dead air greeted their attempts to contact anyone who had been in the destroyed section, John made it to the pile of rocks before he could think of what to do next. His hair was plastered to his head and dripping-- rivulets of rainwater running into his eyes and over the curve of his ear--and his fingers were near bloody from digging through rocks by the time Ronon, Teyla and Zelenka arrived at the wreckage to help.
When the first body was found, Ronon pushed him aside and into Zelenka, who looked as pale and terrified as John felt. As Reynold’s bloody and still face was uncovered, John felt Radek slump against him at the same time as his own legs threatened to give out.
The storm passed and everyone bore streaks of dirt and grime across their faces and uniforms as they continued to dig, calling out every few minutes for any survivors, praying for a reply. Finally, their prayers were answered and the Ancients’ version of a false-floor hiding space revealed a cache of drones and one bruised, scared and exhausted Rodney McKay.
John issued a silent order to Ronon and Teyla to cover the bodies before he reached down to help Rodney up out of the space.
And if the hug went on a little longer than normal, and if John happened to cup the nape of Rodney's neck as he held on for dear life, no one raised an eyebrow. (And if Rodney felt the brush of John’s lips against his collarbone, he didn't say anything. He just turned closer into the embrace, pressing his hands into the small of John’s back, holding on.)
The third time, John was there at his side and watched Rodney's breathing stop thanks to the fuchsia plant that the natives of the goat-worshipping Angora-land insisted on having in every room of their palace. To remove it was seen as an insult to their people, ancestors and goats. Never mind that Rodney was wheezing the second they'd walked into the meeting room—being nice to the goat herders was priority number one, and they also didn't take lightly to one of their guests attempting to get out of the traditional dance of the ram.
Of course, when Rodney went pale and his lips began to turn blue, things went from not good to bad. When he passed out onto the floor and was very nearly trampled by the dancing Ram-man, the party came to a halt.
Nothing says fun like watching a man's throat close up.
Ignoring their audience, John started the launch sequence that could make his reputation and career go up brighter than any ten nuclear bombs, cupping Rodney's face and running his thumb over his cheek. In between the demands that Rodney "breathe, dammit," John promised things that had up until that point only been whispered into sleep-warm skin in the pale gray of stolen mornings.
Which was about the time Ronon lifted Rodney over his shoulder and Teyla grabbed John’s arm, calling for an emergency team to stand ready at the gate.
He held Rodney's hand, talking to him all the way to the infirmary until Carson shooed him aside. At a loss for something to do, John collapsed in a chair next to the bed and let Teyla recount--in her (sometimes) unnervingly calm way--what had happened and why the natives probably wouldn't be too open to trade negotiations after he'd bloodied Dan the Ram-man's nose.
And if John refused to leave Rodney’s side and held his hand while Rodney slept, no one seemed to think anything out of the ordinary. Carson did, however, temporarily restrict access to the infirmary to certain personnel only.
After the third time that John nearly lost Rodney in as many weeks, he did what every Lt. Colonel in the Air Force, pilot of all things fast and head cheese of a mythical lost city would do in his situation.
He packed provisions, blankets, food and Rodney and headed for the mainland for some self-enforced R&R.
Or, to be more specific, John pinned Rodney against the side of a jumper less than an hour after Carson had released him with as clean a bill of health as Rodney could have. Before Rodney could start to ask questions, John pushed him down into the co-pilot’s chair, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until the questions were silenced and they could make their escape.
The Ancient post was far from a five-star hotel, but it had the basic necessities and it beat a tent. John made sure the jumper was cloaked and then he got to work stripping Rodney down and doing things with his hands and mouth that made Rodney fold in half in a sated heap and forget his own name. When he was done, John took Rodney's hand and led him to their bed where he did it all again.
And if Rodney wasn’t spotted working in the labs for the next several days, John didn’t show up for his sparring sessions with Teyla, and neither one of them attended the morning briefings, no one went looking for them. John, like all good boys, had made sure to leave a note.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-31 04:31 am (UTC)Hee. He does at that :)
Usually it's Rodney who's watching (on a screen with blips and maps) while John nearly dies. Luckily, neither of them can stay nearly-dead for long :)
And thank you for the, er, note about the note :) It was fun to create!
Thank you!