sga_flashfic | Body Shot by Miss Pamela (city exploration challenge)

misspamela.livejournal.com posting in

Title: Body Shot
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay pre-slash
Rating: G
Spoilers: Siege III, but not much in the way of specifics. Speculation for S2
Challenge: City Exploration

Huge thanks to

merryish and

lyra_sena for betaing this puppy!

"Over here," Sheppard called.

Rodney followed the sound of Sheppard's voice to a hallway that was wider and more well-lit that the surrounding halls. "Check it out," Sheppard said, from one of the doorways.

The room was smaller than most of the labs, but not quite as small as their living quarters. It was decorated in varying shades of burgundy and gold; low stools and round tables lined one side of the room, and one longer table ran along the other side. Several gold-and-bronze patterned rugs were artfully arranged around the room, and tastefully dimmed lights were recessed into the ceiling. A large window dominated the far side, perfectly framing the twisted, blackened, shattered towers of the city. Rodney stopped, momentarily taken aback. He could still...could still see them smoking. People were screaming. The blood...

"Stop it," Sheppard said, his voice harsh in the silence. "Don't."

You're one to talk, Rodney thought. I wrote your fucking eulogy in my head. "So, what do we have in here besides a gruesome and depressing view?"

"Does this remind you of anything?" Sheppard gestured around the room.

"A restaurant I can't afford?"

"Exactly." Sheppard grinned. "Or, more precisely, a bar."

Rodney took a better look around. "You've got a point." He nodded. "Do you think Ancient cocktail waitresses wore those little black miniskirts? How did that get to be the universal cocktail waitress outfit, anyways? It's kind of impractical." He held up his hands. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Well, it looks like we might have to ask Kavanagh to wear one of those miniskirts," John rummaged into the large box behind him and held up a jug of amber liquid, smiling from ear to ear. "I think it's brandy."

"Thanks for that highly disturbing image," Rodney grabbed the jug. "Carson should check this out before we drink it." They headed back to the transporter.

The infirmary was bustling, but not nearly as much as it had been right after the attack. Rodney hadn't been back since Carson had given him a clean bill of health two weeks ago. His ribs still ached, but the cuts in his leg had healed faster than he'd thought they would. Not everyone was so lucky, of course. Rodney could see Dr. Corrigan in the corner, barely visible beneath the tubes and wires.

Carson limped over to them. Sheppard presented the jug. "Please tell us we can drink this," he said.

"God, I hope so," Carson took the jug and limped toward the lab. "I'll have the results in an hour."

An hour later, as promised, Carson provided the excellent medical diagnosis that it wasn't toxic, but "It'll get you bloody pissed." To which Sheppard just replied, "Good."

When they went to Elizabeth with the idea of a party, she just said, "Make sure there are enough people who are reasonably sober to work the city," she paused and rubbed her forehead. "God knows we could use a celebration."

By the time Rodney had finished up his diagnostics and headed into the gateroom, the party was in full swing. Everyone was eating and drinking, passing around cupfuls of the amber liquid and plates full of goodies. Almost all of the base personnel were there, including Elizabeth and Colonel Caldwell. There were even a few Athosians, who apparently brought a new shipment of food up from the mainland. Rodney wondered if there were any of the crunchy not-carrots in the appetizers. Radek cruised up to him and slapped a drink in his hand. "We drink to the dead tonight, friend," he said, solemnly.

"Let me guess," Rodney said, "the Czech are gloomy and fatalistic drunks. Why does this not surprise me?"

"Well," Radek replied, "how do Canadians drink?"

Rodney slugged back the whole drink in one gulp. "Frequently."

"Hey! Doctor McKay!" Colonel Caldwell waved him over. "Great party, huh?"

"If you hadn't noticed, I just got here,"

"Well, no mind, you can still catch up." He winked. "Careful, though. My Marines know how to work hard and play hard."

Rodney huffed out an involuntary laugh. "I'm sorry, but the day an American can out-drink a Scots-Canadian is, well, roughly, never. Excuse me." He grabbed another drink from one of the new Marines whose name he hadn't bothered to learn yet.

After wandering around for a bit, he found Sheppard on the balcony, staring out over the wreckage of the city, slamming down one drink after another, if the empties in front of him were any indication. Rodney pushed aside the feeling that he'd had since Sheppard came back; that Sheppard was a ghost, that the person they'd all said their goodbyes to was really gone.

Rodney drained his drink and grabbed the nearly full glass out of Sheppard's hand. "Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard," Rodney drawled – not slurred, he wasn't there yet – "you're being rather antisocial. I'm surprised."

Sheppard stumbled backwards in surprise at the sound of his voice. He tried to turn and tripped over his own feet, lurching towards Rodney. Rodney caught him with one arm, fumbling with his glass for a second before deciding Oh, well; I'll deal with the headache, and finishing it off. He tightened his grip around Sheppard, who was sagging against him.

Pointing an unsteady finger at the city, Sheppard mumbled "Broken. Have to…do something. Have to fix it."

Rodney's gut clenched in anger. Fine, Mr. Goddamned Hero of Atlantis. "Fix it? Really? I hadn't thought of that!" He pushed Sheppard against the wall, swaying as those last few drinks hit him a little harder than he had expected. "Did it ever occur to you that I can't fix it alone? Huh? That I need you? That Atlantis needs you?" Rodney shoved him again. "What, you thought you would have your noble sacrifice and you'd just get out of picking up the pieces? You were going to leave me and Elizabeth and Teyla and some goddamned bullshit macho Marine to clean up this mess?" The balcony started spinning, so he let go of Sheppard, who slid down the wall. Rodney slid right down next to him, landing in heap half on top of Sheppard.

"Sorry," Sheppard mumbled.

Rodney closed his eyes, his anger gone. He was too tired to fight anymore. "It's okay," Rodney slurred, as some part of his brain noted that he was passing out, "It's okay." He laced his hand through Sheppard's. "Not alone," he murmured.

When the sun rose over Atlantis, they were still there, tangled together, fast asleep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

clarkangel.livejournal.com

This was just painful. In a good way. In the way it should be in season 2. Since I know we won't get that on the show..I'm so glad you did it here. Well done

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