The chapters of this story were originally posted elsewhere as three separate stories. I wrote the first one for a Missing Persons challenge, and was astonished to have a number of people asking for a follow-up. Even more surprising were the calls for a third. Anyway, all three were written, and it seemed best to post them all here as chapters in a single story.
**************The trip home in Jumper Three is fast, though there’s no hurry. John expects no lessening of pain, no loosening of the knot in his chest. Their homecoming will merely bring on a new front of grief: a beginning for others, a freshening for them. But returning is what must be done, so the trip might as well be quick.
His peripheral vision catches Rodney periodically glancing over his shoulder. It’s a stupid, pointless act, and it annoys John increasingly, like a pebble in his boot on a long hike. But he says nothing about it; says nothing, period. There’s nothing to be said, and they won’t be stuck in here much longer.
He divides his attention between the stars and the HUD. Rodney’s a lesser pilot, but he knows the various displays, so he must be aware that activating them is mental busywork, but doesn’t say anything. John almost wishes he would, because God knows he sure would have bitched about it any other time. If his silence is for John’s benefit, it’s a waste.
John has plenty of experience in losing comrades. He knows how to handle it.
The unnatural silence in the jumper is oppressive, but it’s better than listening to whining. John sees yet another backward glance and presses his lips together. Surely to God he’ll stop doing that soon.
At least they have only scratches and bruises, so the infirmary check will be routine. There’ll be a series of sessions with Heightmeyer, but that, too, is routine. He’s been through this sort of thing in the past, before Atlantis. He can deal with it.
Another glance to the back of the jumper prompts him to turn off the HUD and demand coldly, “Just what are you looking at back there?”
Rodney turns his head toward him – John sees it peripherally but doesn’t turn his own – and is silent for a few seconds before answering quietly, almost timidly. “Nothing.”
“Exactly. So stop looking.”
They don’t speak for the rest of the trip, and Rodney never looks back again.
********
“It was just so… so stupid!” Rodney says in the debriefing. He’s sitting at the end of the table, adjacent to Elizabeth. Lorne’s a couple of seats from John on the other side. John sits stiffly in his chair. Twenty minutes into it and he’s ready for the meeting to end. Sometimes people don’t come back. Soldiers accept this. Civilians, not so much. “Just a stupid, pointless accident.”
Elizabeth nods, eyes filled with shock and pain, and looks to John. “Is it remotely possible that they’re still alive?”
John shifts in his seat, not eager but willing to be cruelly blunt if it will promote acceptance. Rodney saves him the trouble, barking bitter laughter. “What part of ‘fell 400 meters into a river’ is confusing you, Elizabeth? They plummeted from a cliff higher than the Empire State Building into the Pegasus version of the Colorado rapids!”
Elizabeth flinches minutely and looks at her hands, jaw flexing in self-restraint. Rodney fidgets, messing with the Velcro splint on his wrist. Because he’d never complained, John hadn’t known about the sprain until Carson’s exam.
“We took the jumper down,” John says, “followed the river a good five miles before the canyon got too narrow. Life signs detector was clear. They couldn’t have survived the fall, much less the rapids. We’ll try to recover the bodies.”
When Elizabeth nods, he leaves the room.
ooOooOoo
They find Ronon wedged in a crevice; Teyla, entangled in weeds and brush on a sandbar. They’ve been in the water for days and the condition of the bodies is heartbreaking, but he’d had no hope of anything better. At least the Athosians will have closure.
********
“Elizabeth’s concerned,” Kate tells him. “She says you aren’t yourself.”
He laughs. “Then who am I?”
“People are worried about you.”
“I do my job.”
“Your demeanor since the accident is… different.”
John shrugs. “Got a lot on my mind. I’m adjusting.”
Kate watches him. “Have you thought about who you’ll select for your team?”
He shrugs again; it’s not idle curiosity. “Still evaluating candidates.”
********
“Your email said you wanted something?” he says tightly. McKay snorts and keeps walking.
“Just wondering if you’ve picked out your new team yet.”
“Still thinking about it.”
A pause, brief. “Will I be on it?”
John stops and glares at him. “Why would you ask that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you hardly speak to me anymore?”
“Oh, Christ…”
McKay grabs his arm. “Look, Sheppard… I’m sorry, okay? It all happened too fast! You were the only one I could reach in time.”
John shakes him off. “This is stupid. Nobody blames you.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“I don’t have time for this!”
“I’ve noticed. Everybody’s noticed! Why don’t you stop wallowing in your fortress of solitude and actually deal with things?”
Rage is something John has learned to harness. He pokes Rodney in the chest with an index finger. “You need to back off. Now.”
“Right. Giving you space has worked wonders so far.”
“Why don’t you just go play little tin science god and let me be?”
McKay’s eyes are like blue flint. “You know, it’s difficult having to mourn someone who didn’t die.” He turns, waves open the door to his lab, and says, “If you’re ever back in town? Give me a call.”
********
He sits up in bed, the clack of sticks still ringing in his head.
********
It’s quiet in the jumper bay, and minimally lit for night. John makes his way without hurry, reaching out to touch each craft he passes.
When he gets to Jumper Three, he lets himself in.
He hasn’t flown Three since that day weeks ago. It hasn’t changed.
The jumper springs to life at his presence, and for an instant, that infuriates him. But he knows this is just a distraction and wills the anger away.
He sits in the pilot chair, listens to the silence… and turns to look at the empty seats behind him.
Part Two
Rodney keeps thinking about mountain climbing.
Well, not actually about climbing, but a scene from a movie about mountain climbing that he saw years ago. An expedition is scaling the Himalayan mountain known as K2. Some ice gives way on a ledge. One of the native guides is sliding off, and a quick-thinking climber grabs the guy’s rope with one hand and drives his pick into the ice with the other, saving the guide’s life.
Climbers work in pairs, generally. In any case, they always climb tethered, for safety. Sometimes you lose your footing, and all that stops you from disappearing into the abyss is your tie to someone else.
********
The nights should be the worst. The troubled mind, the twitchy sleeping pattern, the nightmares… it’s all pretty awful, and all pretty standard. In the blink of an eye, two people he’d cared about had fallen out of existence right in front of him. He’d have to be one cold bastard to not be tormented during those quiet nighttime hours.
Still, the nights aren’t the worst. Sometimes he’ll dream about it, hear Teyla’s gasp just as he hears the ground crumbling beneath her. Ronon growls – he thinks he really heard that, but maybe it’s an embellishment – and lunges for her, but the ground under him is already going. Rodney whirls around when he first hears the sounds, but it takes an eternity for him to move. He’s pretty sure that’s exactly how it happened in reality.
Then suddenly he can move and he’s darting toward the edge – rushing even though his rational mind already knows they are lost, because the ground they’d been standing on is gone – and he sees now that Sheppard’s sliding off, too.
The nights are not the worst, because it’s the days that show him the full extent of his loss.
********
Carson should have feathers and cluck. The doctor’s empathy is a bottomless pit (Rodney thinks that might be why Carson went into research rather than clinical practice, and he can’t even begin to imagine what three years of being CMO must be doing to him), and every time they make eye contact, Rodney sees his own misery compounded with deep, helpless compassion.
Carson suffers on his behalf, torturing himself with the knowledge that there’s nothing he can do to aid Rodney’s inner healing. It’s why Rodney bites his head off a lot, because Rodney’s own suffering is more than enough, thanks. He doesn’t need to see someone else mirroring his burden.
“How are you sleeping lately?”
“About the same.”
Carson nods somberly. “Need anything for it?”
“Time travel,” Rodney says, picking up his empty tray.
********
“Are you still having the nightmares?”
Rodney huffs a brief, humorless laugh. “Of course I am.”
Kate shows sympathy, a sterile kind that only goes a couple of inches deep. No doubt she feels plenty more, but her professional decorum – and probably her own sanity – requires her to maintain emotional distance. “Do you want to talk about them?”
He does, actually. The dream keeps morphing. For a while, it was a stark replay of the accident, then there were variations in which Rodney caused the landslide. Now, it’s mostly as he remembers the incident, but when he grabs for Sheppard’s hand, he misses. The last thing he hears is the total silence of Sheppard’s descent.
“Why do you think you’re dreaming it that way?” Kate asks.
“Because it’s what really happened.”
********
He sees Sheppard every single day. They attend the same meetings, pass each other in the halls. Sometimes Rodney sees him in the mess, from across the room or across the table. It doesn’t matter. It is always from a distance.
********
He and Radek are running an experiment. It’s late, but Elizabeth drops by. She’s been around a lot lately. Rodney knows she’s trying to fill a void. It hurts that the effort comforts him a little.
Rodney and Radek volleyball a brief report – they’ve recently regained their combative rhythm – and the conversation turns lighter, companionable. Rodney makes a stinging comment, Radek rebuts it, Elizabeth shakes her head. Shortly, they are all laughing, and Rodney feels something loosen a notch inside him.
It is the saddest happy moment of his life.
********
He turns a corner, eyes on his datapad, feels someone suddenly in his way. He stares into Ronon’s laughing eyes, shocked into motionlessness. So much should be said, but nothing is. Ronon merely smiles, puts a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, and gives it a squeeze.
When he wakes up, Rodney touches his shoulder and relaxes back into slumber.
********
A meeting of the senior staff breaks up, and Rodney overhears Lorne asking Sheppard an operational question. Sheppard answers him, not monosyllabic but to the point. As the colonel walks away, Lorne watches, looking like might go after him. Rodney’s relieved when the major just grimaces and goes about his own business. Sometimes all you do is slow their descent, and they don’t always thank you for it.
********
The rocky dirt scrapes his cheek painfully as his hand closes around Sheppard’s wrist and Rodney is dragged toward the edge. The fingers of his free hand scratch frantically for something unmoving. They