moonlettuce | Atlantis Fic, w00t!

Title: Tidings
Author: Claire
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: McShep
Rating: PG
Summary: Don't let McKay technobabble with the aliens. It only makes them want to keep him.

John Sheppard's never realised before just how difficult it is from this side, has always joked how the people back on Atlantis had the easy job. After all, they aren't the ones on strange planets not knowing if the people they meet are going to be friendly. They aren't the ones who get to struggle against behemoths masquerading as guards as they watch people drag a member of their team away. He'll never joke about it again.

Thing is, it's not as though John didn't see it coming. He'd seen Rodney's eyes light up when they were standing in that science lab. Seen them sparkle like it was Christmas when that guy with the unpronounceable name starting telling McKay about their difficulties. He'd known as soon as the guy had started with "We don't know how," that Rodney wouldn't be able to hold back. And he hadn't. John had watched as Rodney had pointed out the tiny variances they needed to make it work, commenting on not only what was wrong with the designs, but how they could improve them. Not just how they could make them work, but how they could make them *better*. Because this was McKay's element. As much as the sky was John's domain, this was Rodney's: knowledge and application and the understanding that tweaking the ratios just *there* led to a twofold return. So of course McKay would tell them where they'd gone wrong, he couldn't help himself.

Only hadn't McKay learned his lesson with the Genii?

Rule number one was rapidly becoming: Don't let McKay technobabble with the aliens. It only makes them want to keep him. And they tended to get pissy when John invariably objected.

He still doesn't know how they got back to Atlantis. Has a vague memory of a firefight going on around him, of a sharp explosion of pain in his arm and the edges of his vision getting fuzzy. There's some sort of memory of Ford and Teyla half-carrying him back to the Stargate, feet dragging on what he thinks might have been grass. And he remembers falling through the 'Gate before being lost in a miasma of Weir's concerned gaze and Beckett's careful touch. Lost in a flurry of activity as he hears Weir tell Bates, Stackhouse and Markham to head back out with Ford and Teyla, as she tells them to bring Rodney McKay back home.

"He'll be fine, John."

He looks down at the fingers laying over his, covering the hand that's gripping the rail so tightly his knuckles have turned white, gripping so tightly he can feel his pulse beating in his fingertips. The beat's counterbalanced by the throbbing in his arm that he's telling himself is a result of Beckett removing the projectile that hit him back on the planet. Telling himself that it hurts because he was shot, not because he wants so badly to punch a First Minister whose eyes lit up the moment Rodney McKay had opened his mouth.

"They'll bring him home."

Elizabeth is ever the diplomat, ever the optimist. And John focuses in on that, focuses in on her absolute conviction that McKay will be coming back with the team. He has to. Has to focus on that because he can't think about the alternative. Because he doesn't quite know when an arrogant, pedantic Canadian became someone he can't imagine not being there.

Sheppard lowers his head slightly, acutely aware of the coolness brushing over his skin when Weir moves her hand away. He feels useless standing here, like he should be doing something, but not knowing what. It's not a feeling he thinks he'll ever get used to. There's too much wondering, too much silence, too much

But his thoughts are cut off by Grodin's voice ringing through the control room, clear and crisp. "We've got a signal coming through. It's Lieutenant Ford's."

Static reigns for a brief moment and then Ford's voice comes through.

"We've got Dr McKay. Drop the shield, we're coming home."

"Is Rodney all right?"

And John can't help but be pleased that Elizabeth asks the question because he can't seem to get words past the dryness that's taken residence in his throat.

There's a beat, two, and then

"I'm fine, Elizabeth."

The shield guarding the Gate is lowered even before Weir finishes motioning to Grodin. Sheppard is already moving, walking down towards the Gate as Teyla comes through, followed by the one person who has featured in pretty much every thought John has had since this began.

Weariness and irritation are written in every step McKay takes, and Sheppard knows he should let him walk past and get to the Infirmary, let him go and be checked by Beckett, but he needs to be sure. Sheppard reaches out, stopping McKay and wrapping his fingers around his arm. And if there's trembling running through the touch then neither of them admits it.

"You okay?"

It takes a couple of seconds before McKay moves his gaze away from the fingers around his arm, raising his face to meet John's eyes.

"I will be."

Words quiet, softer than he's ever heard McKay speak before. He drops his hand away from Rodney's arm, moving slightly to let the other man walk past him.

"McKay."

Rodney turns back slightly, not quite looking in John's direction.

"It's good to have you back."

The smile John knows he's wearing is reflected back in the eyes that meet his, the silence stretching into millennia before Rodney nods.

"It's good to be back."

The quiet wraps around them and John wants to fill it, wants to say something else, something more. He wants to try to find the words to explain how it felt like the city itself stopped breathing. Only Rodney isn't there any more, hustled out of the control room by Carson, Scottish brogue complaining about errant patients who take too long to get themselves to the Infirmary.

So John stays silent, keeps the words within him. He knows they'll wait until later when no one else is there.

And his eyes linger on the door long after Rodney has disappeared from view.

End.