SGA fic - busy sea of spinning wheels and hands that feel (G) -
Hey, how goes it?
So I just wrote this really crappy, angstfest SGA fic taking place directly after 'The Kindred pt 2'. Because I am disgruntled. And I want to hug Rodney.
And I'm not going to have it beta'd (not that I ever have anything beta'd) and I'm not even going to run a spell check or read it over, so ha. I'm just going to post it, and purge it from my system, and then I can go to sleep happy and dream of unicorns and jelly beans.

title: busy sea of spinning wheels and hands that feel | rating: gen
episode tag: the kindred pt 2 |
notes: titles comes from the Wilco song, 'I'm the Man Who Loves You'
OOC? Possible. Do I care? Definitely not.



The thing is, Rodney knew what was possible before he agreed to come to Pegasus. He’d read the mission reports: hostile aliens, self-replicating robots, natives that will try to sacrifice you to their heathen gods. Alternate Universes. Cloning.

He knew all these things.

But he still never expects them.

Because it’s not just a nameless marine, or a crazy life-sucking alien that is trying to eat him, it’s Carson. It’s Carson, his best friend, and he’d already lost him once, and that had been more than enough.

Sam moves towards him, her hand reaching out then, deciding against it, falls to her side. He gets it. She’s sorry. The truth is, he doesn’t really care.

Because he failed Ford, and he failed Elizabeth, and he’s not going to fail Carson. Not again.

He looks at Keller, and she answers without him asking. She says, “I promise. Until we find a way, Doctor McKay.”

Sharply, he nods, brushes past Ronon (who is still hanging back, not quite meeting anyone’s eye) and Sheppard, whose face is just as twisted in grief as Rodney’s sure his own is. When they find Teyla - and they will - after she’s home and safe, after that baby is in her arms, healthy and happy, there’ll be nothing else.

Sam catches up with him in the corridor, her hand on his shoulder, she says, “I want to help. After we get Teyla back – whatever you need me for.”

Rodney swallows, nods, and he can’t do this. Can’t look at Sam and how much she cares, those bright eyes that are wet with tears, how genuine it is. All he can see is how much it’s hurting him, her face like a mirror. He says, thickly, “Okay.”

And her hand moves from his shoulder to the curve of his jaw, and she says his name, brokenly. She says, “I’m so sorry.”



They all have their places. For weeks, this is how it’s been.

Ronon doesn’t care who knows how he sits at the edge of Teyla’s bed at night. How he tucks in the corners of her blankets, straightens the candles lined up on her desk. Rodney didn’t see him do it, but he knows the bassinet Sam ordered weeks ago came in, and he knows Ronon set it up next to her bed. How he is making sure everything is ready for when they bring her home.

Sheppard is nothing if not predictable, and Rodney can close his eyes and see him in the gym, in a Puddlejumper, lying on his bed wide awake at night, focusing. Taking all the anger and hate and fear and turning it into determination. Sheppard won’t fail, it’s not an option, and he’ll never stop looking, ever, even if it means scouring the entire universe for her. It’s the reason they follow him – Rodney and Ronon and everyone. It’s the reason they fall into step behind him, obey every order.

Rodney never thought he’d walk into hell with anyone, but he would with Sheppard. He has before, and he’ll do it again soon enough.

His place used to be the labs. The gentle hum of the computers, the silence, throwing himself into his work. But it’s not anymore.

His place now is Carson and the steady readings saying he isn’t dead. Sitting against the far wall, he watches him, how he’s not moving but still breathing, not living but he’s still alive. And it’s something. It’s all Rodney has. So he sits with his laptop and tries to find Teyla out there, a thousand little dots that are planets and knowing she could be anywhere.

He says, “Everything is falling apart.”

And Carson doesn’t answer.



“I can’t do anything,” Rodney says, his voice so small he hates himself for it. “Every minute that passes, they are getting further away.”

Sheppard steps fully inside, leaving the black of the corridor for the dim lights of the stasis room. He slides down the wall, sitting next to Rodney on the floor, and says, “You’re getting better. I was in stealth mode.”

“What if we can’t fix him and we can’t find Teyla?”

Sheppard shifts, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his arms on them. Rodney says, looking at Carson, “I don’t think I have it in me to bury anyone else.”

“We won’t,” Sheppard says, sounding almost like he believes it. “I’m not going to let that happen. You’re not going to let that happen. We keep looking, and fighting, for as long as it takes to get them both back. We don’t ever stop.”

“I’ve been thinking about Peter Grodin. Abrams and Gaul. Ford. Kate. Elizabeth. How many can you name, John? The soldiers you’ve lost? I’m not sure anymore if it’s been worth it.”

Standing, Sheppard reaches his hand out to Rodney, and says, “Come with me.”


They are going to the commissary, Sheppard says, intertwining his fingers with Rodney’s. They are going to get some cake and then Rodney is going to go to his quarters, get some rest. Sheppard says he’s no good to anyone, this exhausted.

Rodney clutches his laptop to his chest with one hand and tightens his hold on Sheppard with the other. And it’s not weird, or unexpected, because it’s John. They are more than teammates or friends or family – it’s something bigger, it’s always been. He trails behind Sheppard, palm pressed against steady palm, his eyes burning. Everything feels like it’s slipping away, but not this. Not them.

As they walk past Teyla’s quarters, Ronon joins them without a word, looking as pulled apart as Rodney feels. Ronon makes them almost whole, almost right again (but there is still a space between them where Teyla should be, and where she isn’t standing the air is cold and full of longing).

In the commissary, Sam is sitting by herself at a table, drinking a cup of tea in her pajamas. She looks up and doesn’t bother pretending to smile.

Rodney tenses, tries pulling his hand away from where Sheppard is gripping it so tightly, refusing to let go. He shakes his head and holds on to Rodney, says, “Good evening, Colonel.”

“John, please,” Sam says tiredly, holding her mug with both hands. “You have to start calling me Sam.”

Her eyes look to where his hand is still laced with Sheppard’s, then to Rodney’s horrified face and she smiles. “Relax, Rodney. You know me better than that.”

They sit around her, Ronon disappearing and coming back a minute later with an entire half of a cake, four forks sticking out of his pocket. Sheppard says, “You’re up late.”

Looking at Rodney, she says, “Yea.”

Rodney knows where Sam has been, the hours she’s been keeping, staying up long after everyone else goes to sleep, working for Carson. She says, “Can’t sleep, I guess.”

He knows she wants to ask about intelligence – if they’ve heard anything about Michael, where he is keeping Teyla. But she won’t. She knows nothing has changed since she last saw Sheppard. There is no use bringing it up now, not when they are all already feeling the pressure of it, heavy like entire worlds resting on their backs.

Ronon says, around a mouthful of cake, “Zelenka told me a joke today.”

And so it goes.


Standing by the door, watching as Rodney unlaces his boots, Sheppard says, “I’m going to stay.”

“Huh?”

He kneels at Rodney’s feet, brushing his hands away to unlace them himself. He says, “I’m going to stay here. With you.”

It’s not a request – or a question in any definition of the word – and Rodney finds himself closing his eyes as Sheppard slips off his boots, content enough to let someone take care of him, for once. He’s just so tired.

When he opens his eyes again, he watches Sheppard kick off his own boots and pull his t-shirt over his head, rolling it into a ball and tossing it on Rodney’s desk. He strips out of his pants, leaving them on the floor, and moves back to the bed, starts undressing Rodney. The room is dark, but he can feel Sheppard’s eyes, watching him, checking him over like he’s looking for something to fix.

Rodney, still sitting on the bed, looks up to him and says, “What are you doing?”

Because holding hands is one thing but this is something else entirely. This is night time, and sleeping, and wearing nothing but boxers – and it goes far, far beyond Sheppard taking care of his team. This is taking care of Rodney, and Sheppard maybe thinking Rodney will take care of him.

Sheppard says, “The day we found the Athosians, the day we put Carson in Stasis, I told Sam that she could Court Martial me, if she wanted to.”

He moves Rodney back onto the bed with a gentle tug on his arm. “I told her that I was tired of losing people. I said that I wasn’t going to give up on Teyla, and that I was done wasting time.”

“And she looked at me,” Sheppard says, lying down next to Rodney and pulling him tightly against his chest, tangling their legs together above the sheets. “She looked at me and she said, ‘If you really love him, make it work. Don’t ever stop, or give up, or let him go. Even when it gets hard.’ She said that I’d never have to worry about regs, not while she’s here, not while there were still good people at the top.”

“She was talking about O’Neill,” Rodney says, breathing against Sheppard’s neck, melting against him.

“Yeah,” Sheppard whispers. “So you want to know what I’m doing, Rodney, I’m not letting you go. We’ll find Teyla, we’ll fix Carson - you, me, and Ronon. This is all I have.”

Rodney circles his arms around Sheppard, holds on, says, “Me too, John.”