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English
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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
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988
Chapters:
1/1
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8
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892

Proper Exit

Summary:

Summary: Bleh. Depressing.
Spoilers : None
Warnings: Character death.
Author's notes: I got really depressed, and this is what came of it.
Un-beta'd, all mistakes are my own. Also, sorry about the crappy // //. I still have yet to discover how to do italics in
yahoo groups.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wouldnt have killed him, if he was mine.
Archive: Area52, Pegasus, and anyone who wants it.

Work Text:

Proper Exit
By Wild

 

The skies opened up.

I hadn't actually noticed rain, before today. I don't know if it never did, or if I was just too caught up in the constant stress of imminent death, to notice. But the skies have opened up, and the rain is coming down in sheets. Its an adequate display.

Even the crystal skies of Atlantis weep for John Sheppard.

To be honest, I should probably be doing the same. Even Teyla is crying, that stone visage put aside in obvious raw grief. None of us quite know how to handle this, so we're all thrown desperately out of our element.

John is dead.

The thought still shakes me to my core, rattling through me every few minutes, reminding me, with sickening steadiness, that I'm alive. I shouldn't be. I should be the one laid out on the cold metal table, a sheet thrown over it, in an effort to ease the startling coolness. But I'm not. Its' John's calm features, paled, and almost plastic looking.

Beckett did a good job. The thought floats through, with about the strength of the others. In, and out, stopping just long enough to register. The wound had been clean, tearing straight through, with surprising silence. Sheppard had barely enough time to lock eyes with me, before he fell, that last breath rattling out, with a word on his lips.

Don't...

I always thought that someone with as much strength and presence as John, would go out with some incredible words of wisdom. Like his last breath would unlock the secrets of the universe. But the wraith even stole that from him, leaving him with only a fractured thought, one to never be finished.

No more laughter. No more cocksure smiles. No more random mathematical facts, just because he could.

God, he's really gone.

And that's it. The first gruff sob makes it past my closed lips, and I know right then, that I'm screwed. But I'm beyond caring right now. He is really, truly gone.

I have never in my life believed in God. I always found it too hard. There's too much science, and fact to believe in something so...abstract. But now I cant help but wonder. What kind of cruel being could do this? How could you take a life like that, and just throw it away? John had more to offer, than any of us.

But now he's just a corpse. An empty shell of what was once the most insane, and incredible man I had ever known. And it feels like there is this rotting, gaping hole in my chest. Not just a little portion, either. My entire chest cavity has been ripped open, and replaced by this disease.

Yet, somehow...I'm across the room, and touching his hand. Its cold.

But suddenly...there's this bright light, and...Oh God...

//He's there. Standing three feet in front of me, and I'm not in Atlantis anymore. Well, I am...but the sky is sunny, and a warm breeze is kicking through the room, making his hair ruffle across his forehead.

"McKay." That same little smirk, only its a bit more honest and open than usual. I can see the sadness tinting it.

"Major...what?" He interrupts me quickly, raising his hand.

"Call me John. And I don't have much time." His eyes flick behind him, and just a bit upwards, and I'm reminded suddenly of every overly mushy movie I've ever seen, that shows a departed lover, making one last goodbye. This is oddly...

"Cliché. I know. You have to work with me here, Rodney." Obviously, this hallucination, or whatever it is, is riding along with my train of thought.

"So, like I was saying..." Even hard pressed for sanity, I can see through his thinly veiled casual tone. He doesn't have a lot of time, and he knows it. God, Sheppard even knows he's dead.

"I'm sorry." The words tear past my lips, and even I'm surprised by my agony. It rings out so much stronger in my voice, not lost behind the thick pane of glass that's keeping me from falling apart.

"Rodney-"

I cant even let him finish. I start to babble, pretty much unaware of the tears that are tracking down my cheeks, a pitiful accompaniment to the mantra of apologies that I just cant seem to stop.

"Rodney." His hand is on my shoulder, warm and very real. "Rodney, listen to me. This isn't your fault. I did what I did for a reason."

I start to open my mouth, and he silences me quickly.

"I would do it again." Well that kills whatever I was going to say. Knowing that he would walk into death for me, more than once, is a bit unnerving.

"But you have to let me finish what I was going to say." He smiles wryly, his hand creeping up to cup my cheek. I can feel the calluses on his fingertips, on the sensitive skin just above my stubble.

"Don't give up, Rodney."

His lips are on me, warm and dry, and so much more than I could have ever hoped for. There's more in the kiss, than I've ever felt for anyone. Period. This is a deathbed kiss, a man's last ditch attempt to get his feelings across.

And I do my best to do the same, letting the walls down, grief washing over me in waves of broken glass.

And then he's gone. Just one last wry grin, and lots of golden light.

Leave it to John, to come back to make a proper exit.//

I cant help but smile through my tears.

"I wont." I whisper softly, knowing that he hears me, somehow

 

END