SGA story: "Shapes And Sizes"
Dec. 21st, 2007 09:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unadriftTitle: Shapes And Sizes
Characters: John Sheppard, Jeannie Miller
Categories: gen, episode-related, John/Rodney friendship
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 4x09 Miller's Crossing, 1x03 Hide And Seek, 1x17 Letters From Pegasus
Words: ~2000
Notes: Set after Miller's Crossing.
"Hi." John raised a hand, then stopped in mid-wave and let it drop. Waving at someone who was standing right in front of you had to look stupid.
"Colonel Sheppard," Jeannie said, obviously surprised. Standing in the half-open front door, she peered over his shoulder at the driveway. "Isn't Meredith with you?"
"No. It's just me." When her eyes started to widen, he added quickly, "Don't be scared, it's not bad news."
Jeannie breathed out. "Well, I didn't expect to see you again so soon. Come in."
He followed her to the living room. "I was in the area. On earth, I mean. Wrapping some things up, paperwork, briefings. You know how it is."
"Actually, I don't. Thank god."
"Right. Never mind."
Jeannie cast him an awkward but not unfriendly glance, and John felt that he was forgiven for ever deciding to join the military.
"Take a seat," she said.
The sofa was quite comfortable, the silence that followed not so much.
"Aren't Caleb and Madison home?" John asked finally.
"They're out shopping for a birthday gift," she answered, and they were back in silence.
John scratched his head, at a loss for words. He had expected this to be easier.
"Would you like some coffee?" Jeannie rose. She was already halfway to the kitchen when John answered, "That would be great, thanks."
She returned with two cups, handed one to him, and then they both sipped their coffee silently. Until John decided he had had enough.
"Look, I know you can't be comfortable with me visiting out of the blue like this. I probably remind you of everything that happened, and I'm sorry."
Her fingers gripped the cup so firmly that her knuckles turned white. "There are some unpleasant memories, yes. I can't believe how close I came to--" She stopped.
John hoped she wasn't going to cry. "Yeah. That's hard to cope with, I know. But you made it out okay. You're home with your family."
"Yes," she said, smiling tightly. Then she straightened, taking a deep breath. "I'll work this out. It'll be fine."
"That is a very McKay thing to say," John observed, relieved when Jeannie also answered in a lighter tone. "I don't know if I should be insulted."
"Don't be. And this is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about." He shifted on the sofa, almost spilling his coffee in the process. Restless, John would have preferred to be somewhere else, anywhere else. But this was-- something that had to be done. "Rodney hinted you two didn't part on the best terms."
"That's not true." Her tone wasn't defensive, not quite. "He bought me a car. He owed me at least a car. We agreed on that."
"He told me as much. But that's not the end of it, is it."
Jeannie snorted. "Of course not. Mer knows this will be hanging over his head forever. I won't let him forget. It was his fault."
"Rodney thinks so too."
"Good."
John leaned forward. "So what you're saying is that, really, you did not part on good terms."
Jeannie opened her mouth, then closed it again. Then she said, "Other than that, we're fine."
Which was what Rodney's answer had been, almost word-perfect. John had to wonder how two people with about four hundred IQ points between them could manage this kind of selective negation of facts. It had to be a genetic thing.
"Do you even know what happened while you were in a coma?"
Jeannie needed a moment to adjust to the new thread of conversation. "You mean apart from Mer breaking my legs?"
"That was necessary. If he hadn't done it--"
"I know," Jeannie interrupted. "I know. And apart from that, I only know what the military and my brother chose to tell me. That with some expert's help Mer reprogrammed the nanites, and now I'm fine except for the inert machines in my bloodstream."
Which was what John had expected. "That's-- not the whole story. Not by far."
He put his cup down on the table and ran a hand through his hair. Where to begin?
"You know how Rodney gets these sudden attacks of bravery?"
"What, my brother?" Jeannie laughed. It was a slightly bitter and not at all nice sound. "Brave? No way. He's been too much of a coward to even ask a girl on a date."
"Still is," John said, flashing a quick humorless smile. "But that's different. That's not science. That's not a life-and-death kind of situation. Rodney saved me and everyone on Atlantis on more than one occasion. I save his life a lot, too. At the end of the day, we usually call it even. It's our thing."
"Your thing," Jeannie repeated.
John shrugged. "Yeah. It was actually one of the first things I learned about Rodney -- leaving arrogance and obnoxiousness aside -- that right after whining, complaining, panicking, and cursing his fate, Rodney will do the right thing. Even the brave thing, if necessary. There will be no stopping him flaunting his great achievements afterwards, and Rodney's way of fishing for compliments really isn't subtle, but being alive kind of makes up for that."
Jeannie looked doubtful, and John felt it would be best to elaborate.
"Rodney walked into an energy-eating cloud once -- a very dark and very deadly thing. All he had for protection was a personal shield with an unknown amount of power. Rodney had no idea if it would work, or for how long, but he was the only one who could try, so he did. And that was only a week into the expedition."
Jeannie was slowly shaking her head now. "Stop.This is not my brother you're talking about. Really, I appreciate-- No, I don't. Meredith would appreciate what you're trying to do here. Clearing the air between us, telling stories about how Mer has become a really nice and caring person and can't possibly be held responsible for this mess--"
"That is not what I'm saying," John cut in. "Rodney isn't a nice person at all. I know that. Almost everyone who has met him knows that. I wasn't finished talking, and I'm telling you the truth."
"Fine," she said stiffly, "I have never seen him do anything that would qualify as brave."
"Trust me, you've been on the receiving end of it."
The expression on John's face must have shown a lot more than he would usually allow, because her features softened, her eyes lighting somewhat with mild curiosity, which brought out such a startling resemblance to her brother that John had to look away. Really, he wanted this conversation to be over sooner rather than later. Like ripping off a band aid, this would be best done fast.
"The expert Rodney brought in to help was a Wraith who couldn't finish the programming without feeding. Rodney decided to offer himself as a food source."
Curiosity shifted to confusion, shifted to recognition, shifted to pure horror on Jeannie's face. "He-- Mer was--"
"Prepared to die so you could live, yeah." And damn, saying it out loud transformed the blurry memory of Rodney's desperate determination into a vivid technicolor video feed in John's brain.
Jeannie rose from the sofa and started pacing. "Wow," she said. "I-- he-- wow."
John's eyes followed her around the living room. Suddenly she turned to him, arms crossed in front of her chest. "How, I mean, I'm alive and Mer's alive. Was that you again, doing your thing?"
"You could say so. I flatly forbid him to do it." John winced apologetically. "Sorry, but I just couldn't let him do it. I-- we need him."
She swallowed, then nodded. "Okay."
"It didn't matter anyway, and I suspected as much. Rodney tried to break into the Wraith's cell later, but by then everything had already been resolved."
"Your way."
"My way, yeah."
"In which everyone got to be alive afterwards."
"Well, not everyone," John amended, then he mentally kicked himself.
The wheels clicked into place in Jeannie's head. "The Wraith, who did he feed on? Who died?" she asked and didn't add for me. "Was it--?"
John nodded. "Your kidnapper."
There was an awkward pause. "You didn't--" she suggested with a flat voice.
"He volunteered," John explained hastily. "I presented the situation, and out of guilt, or whatever, he volunteered. Really," he frowned at her, "Rodney looked just as suspicious when I told him."
A few moments went by in silence. Then Jeannie spoke in a distant voice, as if that particular piece of information had just registered, "It could have been Meredith. He could have died. He would have done it for me."
She sank down on the sofa opposite to him again, obviously shaken. Christ, John thought, this was the part where she was going to cry.
Thankfully, her mind found a safer route to take. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, focusing on John again. "It's the second time you've provided me with a glimpse into my brother's psyche. And you've certainly come a long way for this today."
John was uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking, but it beat having to soothe a crying woman. "Rodney is a colleague. And," he hesitated, then thought, to hell with it. "He's a friend. And you-- I happen to like you. In a non-Kirk kind of way," he added quickly, just to be on the safe side. "To see you together-- You could be good. As a family, you would do great."
The corners of Jeannie's mouth lifted slightly. "I know. We're getting there."
"Rodney wants to make it work, too." In fact, John was sure he had never seen Rodney want anything as much as this. Not even lots of ZPMs. "He's trying. But stubbornness seems to run in the family, so I thought--"
"Yes. Thank you for pointing that out."
She picked up her empty cup from the table and absentmindedly rolled it between her palms. "I'm glad Mer can call you his friend," she said after a moment. Then she froze. "Huh. It feels very strange to say that. I don't think I ever expected him to find a real-- Wait, that is a mean thing to say. It's just that he--" Jeannie gestured helplessly, meeting John's eyes. "I love my brother, don't get me wrong. He's just--"
"Not that good with the social stuff, I know. Neither am I, really," John admitted. "Maybe this is why we--" he searched for the right word and settled for "click."
"Maybe," Jeannie conceded. "But from where I'm standing, you're not half bad." She reached out and touched John's arm lightly. He had to force himself not to draw away automatically. "Uncomfortable, maybe," she added, with a knowing half-smile, "but not all that bad."
Fortunately, that was the moment when Madison stormed in with a tear-streaked face, throwing herself at her mother, informing everyone quite loudly that she was going to keep the big box of crayons her father had bought, because it was just too wonderful to give away.
John rose to shake Caleb's hand and waited for the first sign of resentment from him. It didn't come. Caleb was preoccupied, his eyes darting around the room nervously, like he expected a bad guy to jump from behind a curtain any moment.
"Rodney's not here," John stage-whispered conspiratorially. The look of relief on Caleb's face was almost comical.
"That's a shame," Caleb said, and he sounded quite honest, John had to give him that.
"Yeah," John agreed, trying not to grin. "And I was just leaving."
"You could stay for dinner," Jeannie offered, casting a glance at Caleb who added, "If you're not averse to vegetarian food. Like certain other people." Jeannie elbowed him in the side.
John couldn't help but grin at that. "Thanks for the offer, but I have a long trip ahead of me."
"I'll show you to the door," Jeannie said. Madison was placed in her father's arms. John waved at them, which was allowed now that a kid was present.
Jeannie hugged John on the doorstep, holding on tight for a few seconds. "Pass that on to him, will you."
"I don't know," John said lightly. "He might get the wrong idea. Rodney is good at that."
She gave a shaky laugh. "Do it anyway. And tell him to visit. Shove Mer through the stargate if you must. I want to see him again soon."
"Will do," John promised.
Jeannie kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."
There were tears in her eyes now. She turned away quickly and closed the door behind her.
When John walked down the driveway he felt drained, and light, and a little proud of himself, because apparently bravery came in all sorts of shapes and sizes.
- end -
Characters: John Sheppard, Jeannie Miller
Categories: gen, episode-related, John/Rodney friendship
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 4x09 Miller's Crossing, 1x03 Hide And Seek, 1x17 Letters From Pegasus
Words: ~2000
Notes: Set after Miller's Crossing.
"Hi." John raised a hand, then stopped in mid-wave and let it drop. Waving at someone who was standing right in front of you had to look stupid.
"Colonel Sheppard," Jeannie said, obviously surprised. Standing in the half-open front door, she peered over his shoulder at the driveway. "Isn't Meredith with you?"
"No. It's just me." When her eyes started to widen, he added quickly, "Don't be scared, it's not bad news."
Jeannie breathed out. "Well, I didn't expect to see you again so soon. Come in."
He followed her to the living room. "I was in the area. On earth, I mean. Wrapping some things up, paperwork, briefings. You know how it is."
"Actually, I don't. Thank god."
"Right. Never mind."
Jeannie cast him an awkward but not unfriendly glance, and John felt that he was forgiven for ever deciding to join the military.
"Take a seat," she said.
The sofa was quite comfortable, the silence that followed not so much.
"Aren't Caleb and Madison home?" John asked finally.
"They're out shopping for a birthday gift," she answered, and they were back in silence.
John scratched his head, at a loss for words. He had expected this to be easier.
"Would you like some coffee?" Jeannie rose. She was already halfway to the kitchen when John answered, "That would be great, thanks."
She returned with two cups, handed one to him, and then they both sipped their coffee silently. Until John decided he had had enough.
"Look, I know you can't be comfortable with me visiting out of the blue like this. I probably remind you of everything that happened, and I'm sorry."
Her fingers gripped the cup so firmly that her knuckles turned white. "There are some unpleasant memories, yes. I can't believe how close I came to--" She stopped.
John hoped she wasn't going to cry. "Yeah. That's hard to cope with, I know. But you made it out okay. You're home with your family."
"Yes," she said, smiling tightly. Then she straightened, taking a deep breath. "I'll work this out. It'll be fine."
"That is a very McKay thing to say," John observed, relieved when Jeannie also answered in a lighter tone. "I don't know if I should be insulted."
"Don't be. And this is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about." He shifted on the sofa, almost spilling his coffee in the process. Restless, John would have preferred to be somewhere else, anywhere else. But this was-- something that had to be done. "Rodney hinted you two didn't part on the best terms."
"That's not true." Her tone wasn't defensive, not quite. "He bought me a car. He owed me at least a car. We agreed on that."
"He told me as much. But that's not the end of it, is it."
Jeannie snorted. "Of course not. Mer knows this will be hanging over his head forever. I won't let him forget. It was his fault."
"Rodney thinks so too."
"Good."
John leaned forward. "So what you're saying is that, really, you did not part on good terms."
Jeannie opened her mouth, then closed it again. Then she said, "Other than that, we're fine."
Which was what Rodney's answer had been, almost word-perfect. John had to wonder how two people with about four hundred IQ points between them could manage this kind of selective negation of facts. It had to be a genetic thing.
"Do you even know what happened while you were in a coma?"
Jeannie needed a moment to adjust to the new thread of conversation. "You mean apart from Mer breaking my legs?"
"That was necessary. If he hadn't done it--"
"I know," Jeannie interrupted. "I know. And apart from that, I only know what the military and my brother chose to tell me. That with some expert's help Mer reprogrammed the nanites, and now I'm fine except for the inert machines in my bloodstream."
Which was what John had expected. "That's-- not the whole story. Not by far."
He put his cup down on the table and ran a hand through his hair. Where to begin?
"You know how Rodney gets these sudden attacks of bravery?"
"What, my brother?" Jeannie laughed. It was a slightly bitter and not at all nice sound. "Brave? No way. He's been too much of a coward to even ask a girl on a date."
"Still is," John said, flashing a quick humorless smile. "But that's different. That's not science. That's not a life-and-death kind of situation. Rodney saved me and everyone on Atlantis on more than one occasion. I save his life a lot, too. At the end of the day, we usually call it even. It's our thing."
"Your thing," Jeannie repeated.
John shrugged. "Yeah. It was actually one of the first things I learned about Rodney -- leaving arrogance and obnoxiousness aside -- that right after whining, complaining, panicking, and cursing his fate, Rodney will do the right thing. Even the brave thing, if necessary. There will be no stopping him flaunting his great achievements afterwards, and Rodney's way of fishing for compliments really isn't subtle, but being alive kind of makes up for that."
Jeannie looked doubtful, and John felt it would be best to elaborate.
"Rodney walked into an energy-eating cloud once -- a very dark and very deadly thing. All he had for protection was a personal shield with an unknown amount of power. Rodney had no idea if it would work, or for how long, but he was the only one who could try, so he did. And that was only a week into the expedition."
Jeannie was slowly shaking her head now. "Stop.This is not my brother you're talking about. Really, I appreciate-- No, I don't. Meredith would appreciate what you're trying to do here. Clearing the air between us, telling stories about how Mer has become a really nice and caring person and can't possibly be held responsible for this mess--"
"That is not what I'm saying," John cut in. "Rodney isn't a nice person at all. I know that. Almost everyone who has met him knows that. I wasn't finished talking, and I'm telling you the truth."
"Fine," she said stiffly, "I have never seen him do anything that would qualify as brave."
"Trust me, you've been on the receiving end of it."
The expression on John's face must have shown a lot more than he would usually allow, because her features softened, her eyes lighting somewhat with mild curiosity, which brought out such a startling resemblance to her brother that John had to look away. Really, he wanted this conversation to be over sooner rather than later. Like ripping off a band aid, this would be best done fast.
"The expert Rodney brought in to help was a Wraith who couldn't finish the programming without feeding. Rodney decided to offer himself as a food source."
Curiosity shifted to confusion, shifted to recognition, shifted to pure horror on Jeannie's face. "He-- Mer was--"
"Prepared to die so you could live, yeah." And damn, saying it out loud transformed the blurry memory of Rodney's desperate determination into a vivid technicolor video feed in John's brain.
Jeannie rose from the sofa and started pacing. "Wow," she said. "I-- he-- wow."
John's eyes followed her around the living room. Suddenly she turned to him, arms crossed in front of her chest. "How, I mean, I'm alive and Mer's alive. Was that you again, doing your thing?"
"You could say so. I flatly forbid him to do it." John winced apologetically. "Sorry, but I just couldn't let him do it. I-- we need him."
She swallowed, then nodded. "Okay."
"It didn't matter anyway, and I suspected as much. Rodney tried to break into the Wraith's cell later, but by then everything had already been resolved."
"Your way."
"My way, yeah."
"In which everyone got to be alive afterwards."
"Well, not everyone," John amended, then he mentally kicked himself.
The wheels clicked into place in Jeannie's head. "The Wraith, who did he feed on? Who died?" she asked and didn't add for me. "Was it--?"
John nodded. "Your kidnapper."
There was an awkward pause. "You didn't--" she suggested with a flat voice.
"He volunteered," John explained hastily. "I presented the situation, and out of guilt, or whatever, he volunteered. Really," he frowned at her, "Rodney looked just as suspicious when I told him."
A few moments went by in silence. Then Jeannie spoke in a distant voice, as if that particular piece of information had just registered, "It could have been Meredith. He could have died. He would have done it for me."
She sank down on the sofa opposite to him again, obviously shaken. Christ, John thought, this was the part where she was going to cry.
Thankfully, her mind found a safer route to take. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, focusing on John again. "It's the second time you've provided me with a glimpse into my brother's psyche. And you've certainly come a long way for this today."
John was uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking, but it beat having to soothe a crying woman. "Rodney is a colleague. And," he hesitated, then thought, to hell with it. "He's a friend. And you-- I happen to like you. In a non-Kirk kind of way," he added quickly, just to be on the safe side. "To see you together-- You could be good. As a family, you would do great."
The corners of Jeannie's mouth lifted slightly. "I know. We're getting there."
"Rodney wants to make it work, too." In fact, John was sure he had never seen Rodney want anything as much as this. Not even lots of ZPMs. "He's trying. But stubbornness seems to run in the family, so I thought--"
"Yes. Thank you for pointing that out."
She picked up her empty cup from the table and absentmindedly rolled it between her palms. "I'm glad Mer can call you his friend," she said after a moment. Then she froze. "Huh. It feels very strange to say that. I don't think I ever expected him to find a real-- Wait, that is a mean thing to say. It's just that he--" Jeannie gestured helplessly, meeting John's eyes. "I love my brother, don't get me wrong. He's just--"
"Not that good with the social stuff, I know. Neither am I, really," John admitted. "Maybe this is why we--" he searched for the right word and settled for "click."
"Maybe," Jeannie conceded. "But from where I'm standing, you're not half bad." She reached out and touched John's arm lightly. He had to force himself not to draw away automatically. "Uncomfortable, maybe," she added, with a knowing half-smile, "but not all that bad."
Fortunately, that was the moment when Madison stormed in with a tear-streaked face, throwing herself at her mother, informing everyone quite loudly that she was going to keep the big box of crayons her father had bought, because it was just too wonderful to give away.
John rose to shake Caleb's hand and waited for the first sign of resentment from him. It didn't come. Caleb was preoccupied, his eyes darting around the room nervously, like he expected a bad guy to jump from behind a curtain any moment.
"Rodney's not here," John stage-whispered conspiratorially. The look of relief on Caleb's face was almost comical.
"That's a shame," Caleb said, and he sounded quite honest, John had to give him that.
"Yeah," John agreed, trying not to grin. "And I was just leaving."
"You could stay for dinner," Jeannie offered, casting a glance at Caleb who added, "If you're not averse to vegetarian food. Like certain other people." Jeannie elbowed him in the side.
John couldn't help but grin at that. "Thanks for the offer, but I have a long trip ahead of me."
"I'll show you to the door," Jeannie said. Madison was placed in her father's arms. John waved at them, which was allowed now that a kid was present.
Jeannie hugged John on the doorstep, holding on tight for a few seconds. "Pass that on to him, will you."
"I don't know," John said lightly. "He might get the wrong idea. Rodney is good at that."
She gave a shaky laugh. "Do it anyway. And tell him to visit. Shove Mer through the stargate if you must. I want to see him again soon."
"Will do," John promised.
Jeannie kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."
There were tears in her eyes now. She turned away quickly and closed the door behind her.
When John walked down the driveway he felt drained, and light, and a little proud of himself, because apparently bravery came in all sorts of shapes and sizes.
- end -
no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 12:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 12:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 01:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 04:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 04:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-22 09:55 pm (UTC)Oh, oh, oh...
Date: 2007-12-22 11:45 am (UTC)Re: Oh, oh, oh...
Date: 2007-12-22 10:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-23 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-23 10:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-26 11:59 am (UTC)So, yay for John trying to make Jeannie see the other side of her brother.
Lovely story.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 07:49 pm (UTC)Yeah, she was. I'd like to think that was because she didn't have all the information. But John would tell her. Really, he would.
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-07 09:31 pm (UTC)::snorts::
I save his life a lot, too. At the end of the day, we usually call it even. It's our thing.
Yeah, John. That and the buttsex.
John was uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking, but it beat having to soothe a crying woman.
Again, your character voices are spot on. Jeannie was perfect. I love Sheppard in this; determined to make her understand but absolutely hating every second of the experience. Ha!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-08 09:03 pm (UTC)Thanks! This story refused to leave me alone until I had written it down. And that was probably because this unresolved thing between Rodney and Jeannie was one of the biggest metaphorical post-ep elephants in the gateroom in the history of sga.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-16 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-16 08:58 pm (UTC)