More self-indulgent X-Files/SGA shenaniganry!
“One Breath” pt 2 (the end):
Agents like John Sheppard are too valuable to let them indulge their angst-porn suicidal fantasies: in the three years before Sheppard was removed from VICAP he’d gotten shot twice, used his bureau car as a battering ram on a suspect’s vehicle, gotten into it three times hand-to-hand, and offered to trade himself in a hostage negotiation. It’s an ugly, spotty history, and Rodney figures the only reason John hasn’t been shown the door is his solve rate: 70 percent. By luck of the draw or as a byproduct of total craziness, Sheppard gets it done — beholden to no bureau policy, meant to save his life or anybody else’s. The FBI can’t afford to lose him, and asking him to tone it down hasn’t worked, either, so put him somewhere safe, mostly — until he can be deployed most effectively — has become the party line. Rodney can’t figure out why John’s so God damn excited about dying, either. He’s 37 years old, still — in some ways and with important people — a favored son of the bureau. He saves lives, he catches criminals. He’s beautiful. And when John Sheppard smiles, Rodney can feel the corners of his own mouth tug up, because there’s something gravitational about genuine affection on Sheppard’s face — something in between the strong and weak atomic forces, and it’s so compelling, that since Sheppard knocked on his door, Rodney hasn’t been able to look away.
And Rodney can’t look anyway now, either, a month later, watching Teyla stand at John’s bedside and ask them to remove the respirator. It’s like he’s watching the sun sink into the ocean and knowing it’ll never rise again. In his head, he understands it, but his heart keeps catching in his chest — hoping, reasonless, that any minute now, John will wake up.
“It might take some time,” the nurse tells them, gentle.
“Then he’ll feel pain, won’t he?” Rodney asks, feeling something twist in his stomach, panic, panic: Sheppard is dying. They’re disconnecting him, next time Rodney calls him it will only be a dial tone. John will be dead. “He’ll suffer — won’t he? I don’t want him to — ”
“He wouldn’t have wanted to linger this way, Rodney,” Teyla insists, voice firm.
“How can you be so fucking meditative about this?” Rodney hisses at her.
She stares back, even. “I’m all cried out, I’ve done my mourning,” she tells him, flat, and turns to leave, saying over her shoulder, “You should, too.”
*
Rodney’s bad at mourning people — the last time he tried it was Jeannie and she was 8, leaving the McKay family behind while Rodney sat paralyzed on the couch. She’d said to him, “Don’t worry, Mer — I’ll be fine. I’ll be great,” and then she’d blazed out in a haze of white and all Rodney had as evidence of her was her empty room, her remaindered belongings, the beginnings of her most recent mathematical proof, half finished. And that’s what had plagued him for decades: Rodney knows, like he has always known this, that he is smarter than Jeannie — and if they were taking for her for her brain, always whirring like a computer, they should have taken him instead, left Jeannie to be a child and grow up and have happiness.
Like now:
If Jackson had wanted to take somebody, an offering, a trade-in to spare him the attentions of whichever government had been stealing him out of his bed for a decade — he should have taken Rodney, not John. Rodney would have gone, out of desperation and because he needed to know and because Jeannie might have been on the other side of the light. And that way, John wouldn’t be lying here in on this hospital bed, breathing shallowly while Rodney waits for him to die. And maybe it would be the other way around, but there are still good people in the world — like Teyla — who will hold John’s hand at Rodney’s funeral, and Rodney would know and John would live, and both of them might be happy.
*
On Thursday, 13 hours after being taken off the machine, John wakes up. He asks for a turkey sandwich, water, and someone named Teer.
“You can have the water in ice chip form,” the nurse tells Rodney she told him.
“What about Teer?” John had asked, hoarse.
“No such person,” she’d said.
John had pouted. “No turkey either?”
“Maybe later,” she’d promised, and then he’d promptly fallen back asleep again, exhausted.
When Rodney finally has enough courage to visit, a day later, he brings: (a) John’s father’s dog tags, warm from being clutching in his hand, worn close to his heart the whole time John was gone and (b) a turkey sandwich.
“I was holding this,” Rodney tells John, handing over the tags, closing them into John’s hands. “For you.”
John smiles, bright, blinding — he’s not angry, he’s glad to be alive, and Rodney’s knees go a little weak at that realization. He says, “Thank you,” and adds, “Come on. You told me you had a sandwich in there,” as Teyla throws her head back and laughs, as helpless and grateful as Rodney feels all up and down his spine.
Oh wow. One of my new fandoms with my absolute oldest fandom. I’m in love, and may I prod you into maybe writing more? Also, who’s Teyla in this fic? Like, what does she do? And in conclusion, you rock amazingly hard, and now I have to go find some X-Files fics that don’t suck. ^_^
*blinks* the end? So short and so brilliant and I kinda want to read more about it. Why was sheppard kidnapped? How was he returned and by whom? What is Teyla’s relationship with Rodney and Sheppard? What does Zelenka do in this ‘verse.
So many questions. *sigh*still, the idea of Sheppard and McKay as Fox and Mulder is the best thing ever.
I’m sure you’re sick of seeing comments from me, but damnit, you’re preying on my one weakness here. And God, you go for the jugular every time (I’m *still* obsessing over what Grotesque would look like - Fighting For His People!John is one of my favorite incarnations).
Fantastic stuff here, for sure.
Don’t kill me, I wasn’t that big of an Xfiles fan. I really liked Skinner and Mulder, but didn’t catch the show that often. I love this. Please write more. Are Rodney and John going to get closer? Rodney needs to be the one to decide when to pull the plug.
Thanks
Oh wow!!! I never watched X Files but this is so good that I kind of want to! I knew you couldn’t kill him, even though I did kind of have my doubts somewhere in the middle of this! This is awesome though coz John not dying is always always always a good thing!! So thanks for not killing him and for this wonderful story!!! I can’t wait for more!
I love the fact that John woke up only after everyone was resigned to him dying. So very John.
This rocks SO HARD. X-Files was my first love, and SGA is my current. This is SO the peanut butter in my chocolate. LOVE!!!
Teyla as Melissa! And John’s dad’s tags instead of Scully’s cross just about killed me. I made flaily arms. Damn you, you’re going to cause me to go looking for MSR fic, and I can only assume that I will regret it in a fashion requiring brain bleach.
there are still good people in the world — like Teyla — who will hold John’s hand at Rodney’s funeral, and Rodney would know and John would live, and both of them might be happy
Oh. My. God. Just - break my heart! This is hurty and awesome and happily ended in all the right ways.
Oh the angst, the angst. So delicious!
It’s like he’s watching the sun sink into the ocean and knowing it’ll never rise again. In his head, he understands it, but his heart keeps catching in his chest — hoping, reasonless, that any minute now, John will wake up.
*whimpers*
Of course John wants a turkey sandwich when he wakes up from a month-long coma. :D You should write Irresistible next! With John nearly getting taken out by a serial killer and manly hugs at the end! Or the one where they’re trapped in the haunted house on Christmas Eve and think they’ve shot each other.
They should have tried tempting him with a Turkey Sandwich earlier…maybe that would have worked in getting him to wake up earlier. I LOVE Rodney’s introspection and voice in this part, so great.
So so great, the only problem is that pesky “the end.” This can’t be the end…there are so many more x-files that John and Rodney need to investigate.
Happy Birthday, Pru! I hope it is splendiforous. :)
Happy Birthday, Pru! :)
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