Scrooge's Life, Bailey's Carol by WolfenMoondaughter [Reviews - 12]
Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Category: Bitextual, Ship Pairings > McKay/Other, Slash Pairings > McKay/Sheppard
Characters: Carson Beckett, John Sheppard, Major Lorne, Original Character, Other, Radek Zelenka, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Samantha Carter, Teyla Emmagan
Rating: PG-13
Genres: Angst, Character Study, Drama, Episode Related, Friendship, Humour, Hurt Comfort, Pre-slash, Romance, Team
Warnings: None
Series: None
Word count: 17633; Completed: Yes
Summary: Rodney is visited by spirits at Christmastime, but their intent is a bit more malevolent than Ebenezer Scrooge's ghosts or George Bailey's angel ...
Story Notes:
Spoilers through "This Mortal Coil", for the film It's a Wonderful Life, and for the story A Christmas Carol. Knowlege of both would be very helpful for your enjoyment, but is not strictly necessary.
AU after the events in "This Mortal Coil". Oy! I'm a pagan writing about Christmas -- what the hell am I doing?? LOL! ;) Well, I can't help it, I've always loved the two stories that inspired this work ....
Oh, and the reason for the "Bitextual" and "McKay/Other" tags is because at the start of the story, he's still dating Katie Brown. Obviously he's not still dating her by the end. *Wink*
Rodney massaged the back of his neck with his left hand while his right typed out a few more numbers. Then he hit backspace, erasing those numbers. Then he began typing anew -- and once again erased what he'd typed. He reached out for his coffee cup and took a swig, only grimacing slightly when he realised it was stone cold. He wondered if the cold had some sort of nulling effect on the caffeine -- he was growing more and more tired by the second!
"Here," someone told him, and a steaming mug came into view. It wasn't until he was swallowing the hot liquid that he realised something was seriously wrong with the taste. "What the hell is this, decaf??" he asked the coffee-bearer, scowling at the mug.
"It's called 'hot chocolate', Rodney! I thought you liked it!"
"Oh." Rodney took another swig. He scrunched his nose. It didn't taste like cocoa, either! "Is it sugar-free or something?"
John Sheppard straddled the chair next to his. "Well, okay, it's not really hot chocolate, it's that carob stuff. Or the Athosian equivalent, anyway."
Rodney gave him a level look. "And you thought I would enjoy this because ...?"
"I didn't, actually; I just didn't want to suffer alone," Sheppard deadpanned, taking a swig from his own mug.
"And you're drinking it because ...?"
"I didn't want to hurt Teyla's feelings."
"Oh." Rodney took another swig. "Whipped cream?" he asked, hopeful.
"Tried to steal some from the mess; turns out Ronon beat me to it and finished it off. The only stuff left was in his goatee."
"So he had a white beard, huh? Then I'm going to call him 'Santa' next time I see him," Rodney muttered darkly.
John snorted into his mug. "You feeling suicidal?"
Rodney sighed heavily, rubbing his neck again. "Yes, if it means I get out of trying to fix this code."
"So take a break, Rodney!" John insisted, throwing his hands into the air. "Ten minutes isn't going to make a difference!"
"It takes less than ten minutes for the Replicators to wipe out the population of an entire planet," Rodney quietly pointed out to the colonel, typing out another line in the meantime.
Sheppard was silent for so long after that, Rodney had almost managed to forget that the man was even there. Then, "It wasn't your fault, Rodney. How long are you going to shoulder the blame?"
After an equally long moment, Rodney asked, "And who else will, Colonel? Regardless of intent, my actions led to this." The colonel started to say something, but Rodney cut him off. "Even if it wasn't my fault, should I just let everyone die without doing the best I can? If a ten-minute break means another billion people could die, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I can rest when this is all over," he finished tiredly.
"And how much good can you do if you work yourself into a stupor?" Sheppard protested. "What kind of headway are you going to make if you don't step back every now and then and get a fresh perspective?"
Rodney wanted to give him an angry retort, he really did, but, as if to prove Sheppard's point, he couldn't think of one. He sighed. "Fine." He saved his worked and stood up. He caught the colonel's grin out of the corner of his eye, but didn't have the strength to match it, not even a little.
When they got out into the hall, he at least managed a "Good night" as he turned in the direction of his quarters. He heard Sheppard's hurried steps to catch up with him.
"Where ya goin'? The mess is that way!" Sheppard asked in his whiny drawl.
Rodney stopped, sighing again. "To bed," he answered curtly, turning to look Sheppard in the eye. "If I'm not going to work on the code, then I might as well put the time to good use."
Sheppard eyed him for a long moment before giving a slight nod and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Sleep well, buddy." He gave Rodney's shoulder a gentle squeeze.
If the man's fingers lingered at all as he let go, dragging his hand lightly across the fabric, Rodney didn't notice. The scientist turned and resumed his journey to his quarters, knowing full well that his mind was too full of worry to sleep easily, no matter how tired his body.
~ * @ * ~
John watched Rodney depart, brow furrowed in concern. He removed the reindeer antlers from his head, wondering if his friend had even noticed them.
Sheppard had intended to get Rodney into the mess hall, where there were sugar cookies, pies, and other holiday treats, and everyone was signing carols. (One of them was a "filk" about Rodney, put to the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"*. John had been dying to see the man's face when they sang it to him -- although John wished they would leave out the line about himself being "Kirk" ....) As it was, though, the dark circles under the astrophysicist's eyes stayed John's tongue. The man needed sleep, no doubt; John wasn't about to deny him that. Besides, the actual gift exchange wasn't for about four days yet: if Rodney still wouldn't take a break by then, John was fully prepared to make it an order.
Thing was, Rodney wasn't wrong; billions of lives were depending on his fixing the code. Not that John blamed Rodney for what happened; he couldn't deny that reprogramming the Replicators had seemed like a good idea at the time. John had seen and read far too many sci-fi stories like this, where a vindictive wish-granter made a wish come true in the worst way possible. In this case, the Replicators were the djinns, and the wish had been for them to destroy the Wraith; who would have guessed that the Replicators would come up with killing humans as a means of fulfilling that wish?
No, John didn't blame Rodney, but he understood what it was like to blame one's self. There was no way on earth John could have known that killing that Wraith female, so long ago, would wake the whole damn species up and endanger the lives of billions either, but that didn't really alleviate the guilt John felt. And Rodney wouldn't even be in his current predicament if the Wraith hadn't been woken up in the first place! John sincerely wished there was some way he could help the man now. Seeing Rodney like this ... the weight of a galaxy on his shoulders, all his bluster and ego deflated, all the light gone from his eyes ... it was more than John could bear, knowing he had played a part in bringing his friend to that state, and knowing there was nothing he could do himself to fix it. The best John could do was check on the workaholic often, make sure he ate and slept regularly.
No longer hungry or feeling particularly sociable himself, John went back to his own quarters.
~ * @ * ~
Having finished brushing his teeth (and failing to expel the taste of the pseudo-carob from his mouth), Rodney wiped his mouth on a towel and turned to leave the bathroom. He paused, having the distinct feeling he'd seen something other than himself in the mirror. Reluctantly, pulse pounding with foreboding, he turned to the silvery surface.
He screamed like a girl.
"Jesus, McKay, you're going to break the glass!" the decimated face of Brendan Gall** informed him.
Rodney looked at the wall, where the reflection of Gall said he was standing and saw -- nothing. Unfortunately, when he turned back to the mirror, Gall was still very much visible.
"You're probably wondering why I'm here," Gall began.
Rodney didn't give him a chance to finish, hurrying out of the bathroom, fully intent on leaving his quarters altogether.
Brendan Gall's ghost had other plans.
It was entirely probable that Rodney's next scream, as he discovered Gall waiting in the hall when he opened the door, would have indeed shattered the mirror, if he'd still been in the bathroom. As it was, the scream only drew the attention of a couple of tipsy revelers that were making their way down the hall. Rodney then pointed to Gall and cried out, "You're dead!"*** He saw his underlings, Simpson and Miko, stare at him in horror just before he slammed his door shut. He wondered belatedly if they could see Gall too, but wasn't willing to open the door again to find out.
Unfortunately, when Rodney turned towards the room's center, he found Gall standing behind him. It goes without saying that he screamed, but this time he assumed that only dogs and ghosts could hear him, because he couldn't hear himself.
"Please stop doing that!" Gall begged, fingers pressed to his ears.
"W-what do you want?" Rodney asked, having decided he wasn't going to escape the apparition, and hoping to placate it somehow instead.
"What?" Gall asked, fingers still pressed to his ears.
Hesistant, Rodney reached out to pull Gall's arms down. His fingers went through the limbs, causing the image to swirl momentarily, like smoke. His fingers now ached with cold.
"Oh!" Gall said, putting his arms down. "Sorry. So, um, I guess I'm supposed to tell you that you're going to be visited by three spirits or something."
Rodney's fear instantly evaporated in favour of confusion. "Come again?"
"No, it will be three other spirits," Gall assured him.
It took Rodney a full 1.47 seconds to realise what Gall was saying. "No, I didn't mean will you come again, I mean -- oh, never mind, you answered the question anyway. Now tell me why I'm getting the Christmas Carol routine," he demanded, crossing his arms over his "I'm with Genius" t-shirt. He then half-uncrossed them, in order to snap his fingers. "You're a hallucination! I have a history of this, you know," he added, pacing. "I haven't bumped my head recently, so what brought you on? Oh, I know! The carob! I bet I'm allergic! I'm really on the bathroom floor, suffocating from anaphylactic shock, aren't I?" He looked in the bathroom, expecting to find himself sprawled there and turning blue, but found nothing.
"Sorry, pal, but no, I'm real. Well, sort of; I'm not your imagination, anyway," Gall insisted. "And to answer your question -- if you'll let me -- you're not getting the Scrooge treatment."
Rodney scowled. "What? Of course I am! A dead colleague shows up three days before Christmas -- when I'm not exactly feeling cheery, I should stress -- and tells me I'm to be visited by three spirits; what else would it be?"
"Except for a key difference," Gall remarked.
"You mean that, while I'm miserable, I'm not a miser? Yeah, that fact hadn't exactly escaped me. So again, why am I getting the Christmas Carol reenactment?"
The smile Brendan gave him sent a cold shiver down his spine. "Yes, that's exactly the difference I mean," Gall assured him. "Let me put it to you this way: would I be here now, like this, if it wasn't for you? If you hadn't insisted on visiting that fallen hive ship?"
Not long ago, Rodney would have tried to deny that it was his fault, or at least have tried to split the blame with Sheppard, who had wanted to see the ship up close just as much as he had. Now he braced himself against the threatening tears and looked the apparition in the eye. "No. You wouldn't. And I know I'll never be able to make up for it, but ... for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
Gall seemed taken aback by the apology, eyeing him speculatively. After a long moment, he said thoughtfully, "Then let me give you another hint: this will be as much a George Bailey scenario as Ebenezer Scrooge one, and yet the intent will be nothing like either of them." And just like that, Gall was gone, no fade-out, no pop of warning. Nothing but a message, whispered in his ear, after: "You have been warned."
And the world went dark.
Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Category: Bitextual, Ship Pairings > McKay/Other, Slash Pairings > McKay/Sheppard
Characters: Carson Beckett, John Sheppard, Major Lorne, Original Character, Other, Radek Zelenka, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Samantha Carter, Teyla Emmagan
Rating: PG-13
Genres: Angst, Character Study, Drama, Episode Related, Friendship, Humour, Hurt Comfort, Pre-slash, Romance, Team
Warnings: None
Series: None
Word count: 17633; Completed: Yes
Summary: Rodney is visited by spirits at Christmastime, but their intent is a bit more malevolent than Ebenezer Scrooge's ghosts or George Bailey's angel ...
Story Notes:
Spoilers through "This Mortal Coil", for the film It's a Wonderful Life, and for the story A Christmas Carol. Knowlege of both would be very helpful for your enjoyment, but is not strictly necessary.
AU after the events in "This Mortal Coil". Oy! I'm a pagan writing about Christmas -- what the hell am I doing?? LOL! ;) Well, I can't help it, I've always loved the two stories that inspired this work ....
Oh, and the reason for the "Bitextual" and "McKay/Other" tags is because at the start of the story, he's still dating Katie Brown. Obviously he's not still dating her by the end. *Wink*
Rodney massaged the back of his neck with his left hand while his right typed out a few more numbers. Then he hit backspace, erasing those numbers. Then he began typing anew -- and once again erased what he'd typed. He reached out for his coffee cup and took a swig, only grimacing slightly when he realised it was stone cold. He wondered if the cold had some sort of nulling effect on the caffeine -- he was growing more and more tired by the second!
"Here," someone told him, and a steaming mug came into view. It wasn't until he was swallowing the hot liquid that he realised something was seriously wrong with the taste. "What the hell is this, decaf??" he asked the coffee-bearer, scowling at the mug.
"It's called 'hot chocolate', Rodney! I thought you liked it!"
"Oh." Rodney took another swig. He scrunched his nose. It didn't taste like cocoa, either! "Is it sugar-free or something?"
John Sheppard straddled the chair next to his. "Well, okay, it's not really hot chocolate, it's that carob stuff. Or the Athosian equivalent, anyway."
Rodney gave him a level look. "And you thought I would enjoy this because ...?"
"I didn't, actually; I just didn't want to suffer alone," Sheppard deadpanned, taking a swig from his own mug.
"And you're drinking it because ...?"
"I didn't want to hurt Teyla's feelings."
"Oh." Rodney took another swig. "Whipped cream?" he asked, hopeful.
"Tried to steal some from the mess; turns out Ronon beat me to it and finished it off. The only stuff left was in his goatee."
"So he had a white beard, huh? Then I'm going to call him 'Santa' next time I see him," Rodney muttered darkly.
John snorted into his mug. "You feeling suicidal?"
Rodney sighed heavily, rubbing his neck again. "Yes, if it means I get out of trying to fix this code."
"So take a break, Rodney!" John insisted, throwing his hands into the air. "Ten minutes isn't going to make a difference!"
"It takes less than ten minutes for the Replicators to wipe out the population of an entire planet," Rodney quietly pointed out to the colonel, typing out another line in the meantime.
Sheppard was silent for so long after that, Rodney had almost managed to forget that the man was even there. Then, "It wasn't your fault, Rodney. How long are you going to shoulder the blame?"
After an equally long moment, Rodney asked, "And who else will, Colonel? Regardless of intent, my actions led to this." The colonel started to say something, but Rodney cut him off. "Even if it wasn't my fault, should I just let everyone die without doing the best I can? If a ten-minute break means another billion people could die, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I can rest when this is all over," he finished tiredly.
"And how much good can you do if you work yourself into a stupor?" Sheppard protested. "What kind of headway are you going to make if you don't step back every now and then and get a fresh perspective?"
Rodney wanted to give him an angry retort, he really did, but, as if to prove Sheppard's point, he couldn't think of one. He sighed. "Fine." He saved his worked and stood up. He caught the colonel's grin out of the corner of his eye, but didn't have the strength to match it, not even a little.
When they got out into the hall, he at least managed a "Good night" as he turned in the direction of his quarters. He heard Sheppard's hurried steps to catch up with him.
"Where ya goin'? The mess is that way!" Sheppard asked in his whiny drawl.
Rodney stopped, sighing again. "To bed," he answered curtly, turning to look Sheppard in the eye. "If I'm not going to work on the code, then I might as well put the time to good use."
Sheppard eyed him for a long moment before giving a slight nod and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Sleep well, buddy." He gave Rodney's shoulder a gentle squeeze.
If the man's fingers lingered at all as he let go, dragging his hand lightly across the fabric, Rodney didn't notice. The scientist turned and resumed his journey to his quarters, knowing full well that his mind was too full of worry to sleep easily, no matter how tired his body.
John watched Rodney depart, brow furrowed in concern. He removed the reindeer antlers from his head, wondering if his friend had even noticed them.
Sheppard had intended to get Rodney into the mess hall, where there were sugar cookies, pies, and other holiday treats, and everyone was signing carols. (One of them was a "filk" about Rodney, put to the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"*. John had been dying to see the man's face when they sang it to him -- although John wished they would leave out the line about himself being "Kirk" ....) As it was, though, the dark circles under the astrophysicist's eyes stayed John's tongue. The man needed sleep, no doubt; John wasn't about to deny him that. Besides, the actual gift exchange wasn't for about four days yet: if Rodney still wouldn't take a break by then, John was fully prepared to make it an order.
Thing was, Rodney wasn't wrong; billions of lives were depending on his fixing the code. Not that John blamed Rodney for what happened; he couldn't deny that reprogramming the Replicators had seemed like a good idea at the time. John had seen and read far too many sci-fi stories like this, where a vindictive wish-granter made a wish come true in the worst way possible. In this case, the Replicators were the djinns, and the wish had been for them to destroy the Wraith; who would have guessed that the Replicators would come up with killing humans as a means of fulfilling that wish?
No, John didn't blame Rodney, but he understood what it was like to blame one's self. There was no way on earth John could have known that killing that Wraith female, so long ago, would wake the whole damn species up and endanger the lives of billions either, but that didn't really alleviate the guilt John felt. And Rodney wouldn't even be in his current predicament if the Wraith hadn't been woken up in the first place! John sincerely wished there was some way he could help the man now. Seeing Rodney like this ... the weight of a galaxy on his shoulders, all his bluster and ego deflated, all the light gone from his eyes ... it was more than John could bear, knowing he had played a part in bringing his friend to that state, and knowing there was nothing he could do himself to fix it. The best John could do was check on the workaholic often, make sure he ate and slept regularly.
No longer hungry or feeling particularly sociable himself, John went back to his own quarters.
Having finished brushing his teeth (and failing to expel the taste of the pseudo-carob from his mouth), Rodney wiped his mouth on a towel and turned to leave the bathroom. He paused, having the distinct feeling he'd seen something other than himself in the mirror. Reluctantly, pulse pounding with foreboding, he turned to the silvery surface.
He screamed like a girl.
"Jesus, McKay, you're going to break the glass!" the decimated face of Brendan Gall** informed him.
Rodney looked at the wall, where the reflection of Gall said he was standing and saw -- nothing. Unfortunately, when he turned back to the mirror, Gall was still very much visible.
"You're probably wondering why I'm here," Gall began.
Rodney didn't give him a chance to finish, hurrying out of the bathroom, fully intent on leaving his quarters altogether.
Brendan Gall's ghost had other plans.
It was entirely probable that Rodney's next scream, as he discovered Gall waiting in the hall when he opened the door, would have indeed shattered the mirror, if he'd still been in the bathroom. As it was, the scream only drew the attention of a couple of tipsy revelers that were making their way down the hall. Rodney then pointed to Gall and cried out, "You're dead!"*** He saw his underlings, Simpson and Miko, stare at him in horror just before he slammed his door shut. He wondered belatedly if they could see Gall too, but wasn't willing to open the door again to find out.
Unfortunately, when Rodney turned towards the room's center, he found Gall standing behind him. It goes without saying that he screamed, but this time he assumed that only dogs and ghosts could hear him, because he couldn't hear himself.
"Please stop doing that!" Gall begged, fingers pressed to his ears.
"W-what do you want?" Rodney asked, having decided he wasn't going to escape the apparition, and hoping to placate it somehow instead.
"What?" Gall asked, fingers still pressed to his ears.
Hesistant, Rodney reached out to pull Gall's arms down. His fingers went through the limbs, causing the image to swirl momentarily, like smoke. His fingers now ached with cold.
"Oh!" Gall said, putting his arms down. "Sorry. So, um, I guess I'm supposed to tell you that you're going to be visited by three spirits or something."
Rodney's fear instantly evaporated in favour of confusion. "Come again?"
"No, it will be three other spirits," Gall assured him.
It took Rodney a full 1.47 seconds to realise what Gall was saying. "No, I didn't mean will you come again, I mean -- oh, never mind, you answered the question anyway. Now tell me why I'm getting the Christmas Carol routine," he demanded, crossing his arms over his "I'm with Genius" t-shirt. He then half-uncrossed them, in order to snap his fingers. "You're a hallucination! I have a history of this, you know," he added, pacing. "I haven't bumped my head recently, so what brought you on? Oh, I know! The carob! I bet I'm allergic! I'm really on the bathroom floor, suffocating from anaphylactic shock, aren't I?" He looked in the bathroom, expecting to find himself sprawled there and turning blue, but found nothing.
"Sorry, pal, but no, I'm real. Well, sort of; I'm not your imagination, anyway," Gall insisted. "And to answer your question -- if you'll let me -- you're not getting the Scrooge treatment."
Rodney scowled. "What? Of course I am! A dead colleague shows up three days before Christmas -- when I'm not exactly feeling cheery, I should stress -- and tells me I'm to be visited by three spirits; what else would it be?"
"Except for a key difference," Gall remarked.
"You mean that, while I'm miserable, I'm not a miser? Yeah, that fact hadn't exactly escaped me. So again, why am I getting the Christmas Carol reenactment?"
The smile Brendan gave him sent a cold shiver down his spine. "Yes, that's exactly the difference I mean," Gall assured him. "Let me put it to you this way: would I be here now, like this, if it wasn't for you? If you hadn't insisted on visiting that fallen hive ship?"
Not long ago, Rodney would have tried to deny that it was his fault, or at least have tried to split the blame with Sheppard, who had wanted to see the ship up close just as much as he had. Now he braced himself against the threatening tears and looked the apparition in the eye. "No. You wouldn't. And I know I'll never be able to make up for it, but ... for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
Gall seemed taken aback by the apology, eyeing him speculatively. After a long moment, he said thoughtfully, "Then let me give you another hint: this will be as much a George Bailey scenario as Ebenezer Scrooge one, and yet the intent will be nothing like either of them." And just like that, Gall was gone, no fade-out, no pop of warning. Nothing but a message, whispered in his ear, after: "You have been warned."
And the world went dark.
Chapter End Notes:
* "Gods Rest Ye Merry Stargate Folk" is a song I wrote this past holiday season. David Hewlett himself faved it over at youtube! *grin* ...
** Brendan Gall was fed upon by a Wraith in the first season ep "The Defiant One", and shot himself.
*** Inspired by a scene in David Hewlett's film, A Dog's Breakfast.