Still the thunder
by
Bluespirit

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: G
Summary: John is injured in an explosion & Rodney is the only one there to help.
Genre: hurt/comfort, established relationship
Spoilers: none
Word count: ~ 1 500


Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. The characters and universe are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions and the Sci-Fi Channel. This fic is meant solely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.

Notes
Huge thanks to H, Lantean_drift & Xanthe for their hard work & tremendous beta skills.

Rodney McKay was a genius, his brilliance towering above the already lofty scientific minds of the Atlantis expedition. Superman or not, he made the impossible possible. 'Fleet of Wraith ships bearing down on you and the shield's not working?' No problem - go to McKay. 'Jumper stuck in the gate with only thirty-eight minutes before explosive decompression?' Take it easy - McKay'll fix it. And he did - he really was that good, constantly five steps ahead of even the brightest of his peers.

But he was also genius enough to realise that his abilities didn't always extend to other areas of his personality. Oh, say like… his personality. He was abrasive, short tempered and didn't suffer fools gladly. But then what kind of idiot did? Who in their right mind would be glad to be surrounded by fools, anyway? So yes, he was self-aware enough to admit that he lacked certain of the more social skills and that people often found him overbearing and off-putting - okay, yes, 'petty, arrogant, bad with people', whatever! But it wasn't easy being so far ahead of the curve that he constantly had to slow down and let everyone else catch up. So mainly he didn't bother, he reverted to simply bulldozing them all with the power of his superior mind. Though this had lead to difficulties when he’d tried to form relationships, both working and personal. Not that there had ever really been too many of the latter.

Rodney had been a socially awkward child who grew into an even more socially awkward teenager. Having to take his cousin as his 'date' to the junior prom had definitely been an adolescent low point, perhaps eclipsed only by his tongue-tied attempt at asking the prettiest girl in the class to dance with him, which had ultimately, of course, led to him vomiting over her shoes in near hysteria.

Things had pretty much gone downhill from then on and Rodney had stayed well clear of any further forays into the social milieu until his college years, where broadening his horizons to include both sexes had allowed him some minor success in dating. Well, he'd had a few fumbled encounters that had at least led to him finally getting laid, though none seemed to last beyond the act itself, let alone to breakfast the next morning. Rodney just couldn't seem to form the kind of emotional connection that lead to any sort of real relationship. So he'd put aside such foolish diversions and had resolutely drawn up his brilliance like a shield of invulnerability, forging ahead with what he was good at, what he excelled at - his work. He was a genius, after all.

So, after years of never getting what he wanted, he had pretty much given up even dreaming. It had been more than a little surprising then to find himself, at thirty-seven years old, in another Galaxy, doing the work that he was born for - and actually finding someone to love. And it wasn’t just any someone, either. Oh, no. It was Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, no less. The kind of someone who, in high school, Rodney would've gazed at with longing but would never even have spoken to, let alone have been friends with, because, well, geek - and John would've been the captain of the football team and the Homecoming King or whatever. Yeah, Rodney would've probably thrown up spectacularly on his shoes before hiding in a closet. For the next five years. John was popular and charming and so damn, well, pretty, that Rodney could hardly believe it. Here he was - he, Rodney McKay, emotional misfit - and he was dating the most popular boy in school… well, Atlantis. Things like this just didn't happen to him and so, of course, the cosmic god of karma had obviously decided that it was time to step in….

~

"Colonel! John! Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

Rodney held John's head still, framing his pale face with barely steady palms. He wanted to pull John closer and cradle him in his lap but that was a bad idea. He didn't know how seriously John was injured and moving him could do more harm than good. There was blood, a lot of blood, flowing freely from a wound somewhere above the hairline and the blast that had thrown John clear across the pier could have broken some ribs or caused internal damage. Rodney didn't know - wouldn't risk it - and he keyed his comm. Again.

"Ellis! Where are you? What's taking so long?" Why the hell had Carson chosen today to visit the mainland? Ellis was okay - better than okay in all fairness - but Rodney didn't want to trust John to any witch doctor except Beckett.

"We're on our way, Dr McKay. You're a distance from the nearest transporter but we'll be with you and the Colonel shortly." Ellis's voice was calm and professional through the earpiece but Rodney wasn't ready to be calmed. He couldn't lose John, couldn't… well, he just couldn't.

"He's still unconscious. Get here now!" he snapped, closing the channel as he pressed shaking fingers to John's neck and located the weak pulse - too fast and thready but it was there, that was the important thing. He stared at the smeared fingerprints of blood - John's blood - left behind, obscenely vibrant against washed-out skin, and swallowed quickly.

"Okay, enough slacking, Colonel. Time to wake up now," Rodney whispered, smoothing John's hair away from his forehead and willing him to open his eyes. "It's all very well for you, lying down on the job, but some of us have got things to be doing and if you don't mind, I have lab tests to run and underlings to intimidate and, and…." His voice cracked and he stilled the hand mindlessly stroking the sticky, matted strands of John's hair. "Just open your eyes, John. Please…. Hang on. Ellis will be here soon and Carson's flying back from the mainland, not that you can really call it flying, I mean the man's one step up from a trained monkey but…." Rodney faltered again, the air too still and too much of that precious blood slowly drying beneath his fingernails.

"Okay, that's it!" he shouted, hands a gentle counterpoint as they cupped John's face. "I've waited way too long to finally have you for myself and if you think you're getting away from me this easily, Colonel, then you can think again. You - and your ludicrous hair and your way-too-charming smile - are staying right here with me. And don't think that I haven't noticed the way you shamelessly flash that particular smile whenever there's extra pizza in the mess, because I have, and I’m perfectly entitled to the half that I 'liberate' from your plate, thank you very much!” Rodney said, his words clipped and edged with desperation. “Now, I don't care if I have to scour the entire Ancient database to find Janus's work, and build a damn time machine because, so help me god, I will do it. And then I will go back and hunt your skinny ass down, and keep you away from whatever 'gee, that looks cool' piece of god-knows-what technology you were touching to cause this whole fiasco in the first place and… and…." Rodney sagged down as the air rushed from his lungs, fear finally tempering his bravado. "Just wake up, John… please - wake up."

Time seemed to be phasing out of synch, as it was a few minutes - or possibly days - later that he felt John trying to speak, his jaw working but no sound coming out.

"John? John! Oh, God," Rodney cried, staring as John's eyes fluttered open for a moment and then closed against the harsh afternoon sunlight above them.

"Rod-ney." John's voice was little more than a pained, dry croak but it was perfect.

"Shh, I'm here," Rodney soothed, moving to block the sun, barely able to keep his touch light as he stroked John's cheek, the puff of laboured syllables so welcome against his palm. "The med team are on their way," he said, one hand unconsciously reaching for John's.

"Don't forget," John coughed, a rattling, raw sound, but his words grew a little stronger and he squeezed Rodney's hand. "Don't forget the flux capacitor, buddy."

Rodney laughed, shock and relief mingling to make the sound momentarily harsh. "And I suppose you expect me to build it using a De Lorean, as well?"

“Gotta travel in style, McKay,” John grinned shakily, and Rodney couldn’t help the broadness of his own smile.

"Yes, yes," he chided, fingers back to gently stroking John's hair again, "because we all know how factually accurate and scientifically feasible that particular movie is, don't we, Lieutenant Colonel Gullible?"

Which, of course, was McKay-Sheppard for 'I love you'.



The end

Title taken from ‘Storms never last’ by Waylon Jennings

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