Wordcount: ~4500
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Getting kidnapped sucks. Getting kidnapped and locked up together with a suicidal idiot who insists on taking a bullet for you sucks even more. And what really, really sucks is not even getting your chocolate.
AN: blbec means idiot, drahy priteli is Czech for my dear friend. At least according to the nice internet. Ahem. This story did a complete one eighty on me, so I apologize if the sudden, uh, mood change at the end comes a bit, well, sudden. I blame it on Rodney's lack of adrenaline. Also, Teyla was Rodney's secretary in the first draft, but my (male) beta thought I was being a sexist. Well. Anyway, I wanted to do an AU with recognizable characters, and I hope it worked. If it didn't, blame it on... well, on me. Sorry.
Live Life Ordinary
The man's chest was rising in a slow, regular pattern, so at least he wasn't dead yet. It was a small comfort, but at this point, Rodney was willing to take whatever he could get. He really didn't want to spend the last few hours of his life locked up in a small, gloomy, and cold room with a corpse as his only company. Then again, neither had he been planning to get caught up in the middle of some hostage drama, yet here he was.
This was so not funny, sitting on the hard stone floor when he should be in his lab, working on the wormhole theory that would finally earn him the Nobel Prize. Instead, he was busy pressing his already blood-soaked jacket firmly to the body of an unconscious man with a bullet in his side. Seeing how the guy had taken said bulled for Rodney, he figured it was his obligation to keep the suicidal idiot alive. And really, what kind of stupidity did it take for someone to give in to some misguided heroic tendencies and risk their own life to save a total stranger? Of course, you only had to look at that silly mop of thick black hair sticking out in all directions to know that thinking probably didn't rank very high on the man's agenda. Well, q. e. d., after all.
He had just gone out to get some coke and chocolate from the closest convenience store, and stepped right into a robbery. Two men, heavily armed and nervous. They had seen him come in, and the one with the beard had panicked, pointing his gun and pulling the trigger before Rodney could scream "Don't shoot, mankind needs me!" or something like that. He had squeezed his eyes shut, really not wanting to see his own blood spray over chewing gum and toilet paper, but the expected impact had never come. Instead, a heavy body had slammed into him with the sound of the gunshot, swaying slightly before slumping down on the floor. When Rodney had opened his eyes again, a slender, lightly tanned man had been lying in front of him, dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt and bleeding all over the dirty tiles. After a short, heated argument, the pig-eyed one of the two criminals had hauled the man up, dumping him into the back of a van conveniently parked right in front of the store, motor running. While they had ushered him inside the car as well, Rodney had taken a short break from his mindless panic to curse himself for not noticing anything before stepping out of his life and into an episode of C.S.I..
He just hoped an autopsy wouldn't be necessary.
So, after a surprisingly short trip to an abandoned warehouse - and just how cliché was that? - he had been thrown into what seemed to have been an office at some point, along with his still unconscious saviour. There had been mention of a ransom, and Rodney really, really hoped that the police wouldn't try to pull any stunts "to show 'em assholes who's boss around 'ere". Still, even if a ransom was paid - and it would, it would, it would - it was going to take a few hours; hours during which his nameless hero hopefully wouldn't bleed dry.
The blood flow seemed to have slowed down, anyway. He wasn't entirely sure if that was a good sign, but well, hope dies last, right? A soft moan made him turn his attention to the man's admittedly handsome face. Rodney briefly wondered if that meant he was screwed, because everybody knew that it was always the handsome hero who survived against all odds, not the slightly pudgy scientist, but then glazed hazel eyes tried to focus on him, and his mouth went dry.
Which had, just like his speeding heartbeat, everything to do with his current predicament, and nothing with any kind of attraction. At all.
"You a'right?" the man croaked, and the sheer idiocy of that question drove Rodney's vague annoyance right up past the next few levels and straight into make-lab-assistants-burst-into-tears territory.
"What kind of dumb question is that?" he snapped, strangely satisfied as the unexpected answer seemed to pull the man a few steps closer to lucidity. "I'm freezing my ass off on the floor of some abandoned office thanks to America's most incompetent criminals ever; I haven't eaten anything for at least four hours which probably means my blood sugar will probably drop like a stone pretty soon; God alone knows what my assistants will screw up in my lab while I'm gone, and the man with a bullet in his side asks me if I'm alright! Well, I'm peachy!"
"Yeah," said bullet-ridden man drawled, blinking up at him with amusement clearly written on his face, despite the pain he had to be in. "You're welcome."
"Oh no, I'm not thanking you for valiantly attempting to save my admittedly precious life. I didn't ask you to do that, and when it comes down to it, you practically did yourself a favour."
"I did myself a favour by getting shot?"
"I'm important! My- my work, it's invaluable! If my theory is right, and it is, we will be travelling to distant stars in the blink of an eye, all within the next ten years!"
"Uh huh." The man's eyes betrayed his doubt as they gave him a brief once-over, and suddenly Rodney found himself slightly embarrassed for not making a very good figure in his faded jeans and 'I see dumb people' t-shirt. He resolutely stomped down on the impending blush and raised his chin in defiance.
"I don't need you to believe me. But you'll be sorry once my genius is distributed over every TV-channel," he said stiffly.
The man sighed. "Look, uh..."
"Dr. Rodney McKay."
"John Sheppard. Look, Rodney, I'm sorry, okay? It's just a bit much right now. You can blame it on the blood loss."
Completely ignoring Rodney's glare at the implied accusation of not caring like he should, John Sheppard began to move.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"We have to get outta here, before they decide to kill us."
"Yes, well, looks to me like you'll spare them the effort. Seriously, this is a bad idea. They're going for a ransom, anyway, so they'll want us alive."
"You don't know that," John grunted, trying to lever himself up on his elbows.
"I know you're making a big mistake here. The only one who doesn't seem to get that is you. No, don't try to sit up!"
But the other man was obviously every bit as stubborn as he appeared to be, and tried anyway. He pushed himself up, twisted his body exactly the wrong way, and bit down on an agonized scream before he promptly passed out again. Rodney caught his head quickly enough to prevent him from hitting it on the hard floor.
"Told you so," he mumbled as he drew his hand back, resting it on John's firm chest to assure himself that the man was still breathing. He felt the flutter of a heartbeat under his palm, sighing in relief even as he pressed his jacket to John's side once more. At this rate, they would run out of time long before anyone could come to rescue them. Well, at least Sheppard would.
Almost a whole hour went by before the other man stirred again. Rodney had started to get worried. He knew nothing about John Sheppard except for the man's name, but saving your life kind of endeared someone to you. At least that was what he kept telling himself, trying not to think about hazel eyes with small brown rings where iris met pupil. Eyes that were now fixed on him with pained confusion.
"Wha... what happened?"
"You were being spectacularly stupid and passed out, that's what happened. And I really hate to say I told you so, but: It's true. I told you so." The scientist grinned down smugly, basking in the relief to have John conscious again.
To his delight, Sheppard grinned right back, even if it was a little strained. "You don't have many friends, do you, McKay?"
"Yes, well. The people who like me don't do so because I'm nice."
"I can imagine," John said dryly, hissing as his tentative try at moving seemed to make the pain in his side flare up.
"Lie still," Rodney admonished unnecessarily, and John glared.
"You enjoy this, don't you?"
"Oh yes, this is what I live for. Okay, so my new hobby of getting kidnapped and locked up with people suffering from gunshot wounds just ruined my favourite jacket, but I guess practice makes perfect, so I'll just make sure to bring an old sheet next time."
Sheppard looked as though he really had something to say to that, but didn't get further than opening his mouth before the sound of a key sliding into a lock made them both turn their heads towards the door. It opened, and their kidnappers strode in, faces tight and angered. Rodney protectively slid a little closer to John in what was a completely subconscious way, honestly.
"Cops don't give shit about you," the pig-eyed man snapped. "Told them we'd kill you both if they think they can trick us. Didn't believe us, the fuckers!"
"Yeah," his bearded buddy spat, already pulling his gun and taking off the safety catch. "Too bad for you."
He pointed the gun at John's head, and Sheppard actually sniggered, "Well let's just hope you hit your target this time," and Rodney just couldn't believe that man.
"No, wait!" he said hurriedly, "call Lantis Research! Call Radek Zelenka! They will pay you!"
"We want a million dollars," pig-eyes sneered. "Are you worth that much to them?"
"They will pay," Rodney insisted, breathing far too quickly. "Unless you happen to get Kavanagh on the phone, he'll probably offer twice as much just to have you shoot me." Which was probably a pretty stupid thing to say. "Seriously," he added, scrambling for the words that would keep him alive a little longer, "they have the money, and they need me. Both of us, actually. We're both really, really vital. Call Radek. He'll tell you."
His efforts got him the end of pig-eyes' gun smashing against his cheekbone, sending him sprawling across the floor.
"Don't tell me what to do!"
"Hey, asshole! Why don't you take on someone your own size," John protested, and earned himself a kick into his injured side that made him scream. "Yeah, right, that's a great way to win an argument," he panted, desperately clinging to consciousness.
"Please," Rodney wasn't ashamed to resort to begging, "you'll kill him. Nobody wants to pay for a dead body. Just call Radek Zelenka at Lantis Research, and we'll all get what we want."
"Damn it, stop protecting me and start thinking about yourself!"
"I am thinking about myself! I don't want you to die!"
"Well, then you better not been telling bullshit," pig-eyes interrupted, mustering them with a long, hard stare. "That Zelenka guy doesn't pay a million for you, you're dead."
"He will," Rodney tried to assure their kidnappers, "you'll see."
The men exchanged a brief glance, and pig-eyes nodded sharply.
"We'll come back," he said, and they left the room. As the door closed, John slowly turned his head back to Rodney, who was staring at him with something akin to awe.
"Wow, you really are stupid," he breathed. Then he frowned. "It's disturbingly cute, though."
"I don't need you to protect me."
"Yes, because you're doing just fine on your own. Believe me, this has been a real shit of a day so far, and I won't let you screw it up even further by making me watch your pointless death and traumatize me for life."
"Why, Rodney, I didn't know you cared," Sheppard shot back, but it was weak, and there was sweat on his face. Rodney lifted his jacket, slightly disturbed at the speed with which the blood was flowing now.
"You're bleeding again," he said, pressing the jacket back down with shaking hands.
"Yeah. No surprise there." They fell silent for a while, listening to John's gasping breath as he tried to fight the pain.
It would turn out alright. Radek would pull the money straight from their accounts, and their bank was pretty used to them withdrawing ridiculous sums to lure in specialists or buy new equipment from questionable sources. A million dollars was a huge amount even for them, but they could spare it. It would throw them back a few years, sure, but this was a life or death situation, so he was willing to let science take second place maybe for the first time in his entire life.
"So you think I'm cute?" Sheppard's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Well, as cute as someone like you could be. Your protective streak is strangely endearing, and I don't even want to know what Freud would have said to that."
"Someone like me? You mean, a man?" The question held a challenge Rodney didn't quite get.
"No. A brunet," he said, returning John's gaze steadily. A few beats passed, then the injured man smiled slightly.
"Why would Lantis Research pay a million dollars for a single scientist?" Not very subtle as changes of topic went, but Rodney was willing to play along.
"Because that single scientist is one of the owners. Radek and I founded the company a couple of years ago, we've been doing research together since graduation. He's one of the very few people whose intelligence is actually close to mine."
"You don't look rich."
"Because I'm not. We're putting everything we have into our research. Listen, I really don't think you should talk so much."
"I like to hear you talk," Sheppard admitted softly. "It distracts me from... you know."
Rodney nodded. He could imagine the wound hurting like hell, and he proceeded to tell John about wormholes, why he had moved his research from Canada to the USA, and how his science had always been the single most important thing in his life. He was just bitching about the incompetence of your average lab assistant, when the goons came back in. Sheppard tried to get up again, but beard-face set a heavy foot onto his chest, keeping him down. John moaned, and Rodney opened his mouth to protest, when pig-eyes shoved a cell phone at the scientist, startling him.
"Zelenka wants to speak with you."
He took the phone, eyes still on the man who had saved his life, wondering if it the heroic tendencies he had pondered earlier weren't really suicidal, actually.
"Radek?"
"Rodney!" The Czech let out a string of expletives that made his ears ring. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"
"I'm fine," he answered, ignoring the throbbing where pig-eyes had bruised his face. "But I really need you to get some money. Fast."
"Yes, that blbec already told me. How much do you need?"
"One million dollars," he replied, making a face at Radek's outraged swearing.
"Each," beard-face interrupted suddenly, lightly kicking Sheppard's injured side. John groaned brokenly. "A million each."
"Two million dollars," Rodney corrected, swallowing hard. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.
"Rodney, we won't be able to continue research if we lose two million dollars," Radek stated quietly. "We will lose everything."
Rodney looked at John who was feebly shaking his head, stared at hazel eyes glazed with pain.
"I know," he said. "Get Ronan ready to have the money delivered to wherever these guys want it. There's another one with me, and he's in a pretty bad shape." John closed his eyes.
Another short silence. Then, "Alright, my friend. Take care."
"Yeah. You too."
He handed the cell phone back to pig-eyes. "You might want to give him some instructions. It's going to take a while, though."
The goon snatched the phone back, and they were left alone again. John kept his eyes closed.
"Can you really spare two million dollars?"
Rodney hesitated before he answered.
"No."
"So you're giving up your lifelong dream to save me."
The scientist didn't reply to that.
"Why don't you just leave me alone? You know nothing about me, Rodney," John whispered. "I deserve to die."
"What you deserve is a good beating for talking like this," Rodney hissed furiously. "You're right, I know nothing about you, but you didn't strike me as a coward, Sheppard. Maybe I was wrong about that, but you saved my life, and you will fucking let me return the favour. Jump off a bridge next week, I don't care. But I won't let you get killed for my sake, you selfish bastard. You might be cute, but not cute enough to dream about your face for the rest of my life."
John didn't answer, and Rodney very quickly figured that he had lost consciousness again. His skin was cold and clammy to the touch, his time running out along with the blood that wouldn't stop flowing.
"Too bad you're dying," the scientist whispered, his hand caressing John's cheek before he rested it against the side of his neck, finding the other man's heartbeat. "I think I could have fallen for you."
There was no reply, of course. He could feel John's life slowly ebbing away with each weak pulse under his fingers. Rodney waited.
It was twenty minutes before he heard two gunshots fired in rapid succession. A grim smile played around his lips as he listened to the heavy footsteps that quickly approached the door. The key was turned once again, and the door opened. Ronan's massive form filled out the doorway.
"McKay."
"Ronan. Good job."
His head of security nodded, and stepped aside as Carson Beckett rushed in.
"Rodney! What have you gotten yourself into this time?"
"It's hardly my fault that those idiots decided to make some extra money and kidnap me," Rodney huffed, getting up and stepping aside as the doctor crouched down at John's side. "He's lost a lot of blood. Do you think he'll make it?"
"Probably, but we need to get him to the hospital, asap. I'll make sure nobody asks any uncomfortable questions about his gunshot wound," the Scot promised. Rodney watched as Ronan and Carson rushed out of the room as fast as they could, carrying their precious cargo.
Radek poked his head around the doorway.
"You know, next time I try to track down your kidnappers, you could talk to me a little longer. It was barely enough time."
"Oh, please, they talked to you and then carried you to our cosy little room and back again. How was that barely enough time?"
"I do not work for FBI, Rodney. This is not what I do for a living."
"Yes, well, I knew I could rely on your computer skills. Besides, you need me. You would naturally put a little effort in finding me."
Radek snorted, and put a hand on his shoulder, walking him to the door.
"You have a bigger ego than any Hollywood diva, drahy priteli, but I admit I got kind of used to you. You make the best coffee in the lab."
"How would you know? Your cheap Czech booze has burned away your taste buds years ago."
They left the building without looking back.
~~~
Rodney was in his office, miserably filling out another tax form, this one for Radek. It wasn't his turn to do the much-hated administrative stuff, but his Czech friend had said, "I save your ass, you do the paperwork", and you couldn't really argue with that. The bruising on his face had faded to a light yellow. According to Carson, he had been really lucky that his cheekbone hadn't been broken, but uncharacteristically, he had just shrugged it off, asking about John instead. It had been a close call, but the Scot had managed to stabilize the man once they had reached his hospital. He would be released soon.
Rodney hadn't visited.
The internet was a wonderful place if you wanted to know about a man's death wish. John Sheppard. Ex-military pilot who had been working for a private airline until the day he had made a mistake; a mistake that had cost the lives of 137 people as their plane crashed down in a ball of fire and debris. John had been the only survivor.
Guilt could be like a fall from a very high cliff, endlessly tumbling deeper and deeper until you wished for the ground to meet you, just to make it stop. He knew all about it, as well he should. Dr. Rodney McKay. Ex-star of the astrophysicist community until the day he had miscalculated, a small error that had cost the lives of 68 scientists as the small artificial sun they had tried to create spun out of control and exploded in a white-hot flare. Rodney had been out for coffee.
He had lost everything that day, his job, his reputation, his self-esteem, spiralling towards the ground and hoping for solid rock. But unlike John, there had been friends to catch him. Unlike John, he had found something to live for. He wondered if the other man would ever be so lucky.
A knock at the door, and Teyla poked her head in, smiling her sunny smile in the sure knowledge that her interruption would be more than welcome.
"Dr. McKay. You have a visitor."
He looked at the tax forms he still had to fill out, and back at their other head of security. Teyla had been in constant competition with Ronan, and finally Radek had decided to make them equals before blood was shed. Now she and Ronan at least smiled at each other, even if it was a terrifying sight. Since that unfortunate abduction incident, she had taken her job even more serious than before, cross-checking every single person who wanted to meet him. He let her. Not that his being kidnapped had been her fault or was very likely to happen again, but her new-found determination scared most visitors away before he had to put up with them.
"I really don't have time now-" he started, but a lazy voice from behind her cut him short.
"Come on, McKay. Surely you have time for the guy who saved your life?"
"Only if he comes to thank me for saving his life," he replied, standing up, his heart skipping a beat as the door was pushed open and John Sheppard strolled in. His black hair was the same mess as last time, but his pained expression had been replaced by a lopsided smile.
"I would have, but you didn't drop by." Neither man noticed when Teyla closed the door, her smile even brighter.
"I thought you wanted to be left alone."
"Well, maybe that was before you said you could have fallen for me."
"You heard that?" Rodney asked incredulously. John just shrugged.
There was an uncomfortable silence stretching between them when neither of them knew what to say.
"Look-" Rodney started, but John interrupted him.
"Did you? Fall for me?"
Which was an unfair question to ask. Rodney bit his lower lip, not sure how much he should admit.
"I might be... a little attracted to you."
"McKay." John ran a hand through his hair, obviously at loss for words.
"Whatever happened to Rodney?" the scientist asked quietly.
"I... I wasn't sure you'd still want me to call you that, after what I said about deserving to die. I looked you up. You've been through some pretty tough shit yourself."
"You were hurting," Rodney stepped around his desk, closing the distance until they were standing right in front of each other. "It might be hard to believe, but I get that."
"It's not hard to believe. I... Look, Rodney, I'm sorry. I was an asshole. It's just..." John broke off, frustrated. "How the hell did you get through it? How do you live with it?"
Rodney would have liked to say that he had been strong, that he had come to accept that death was just a part of life, that if you screwed up, you had to atone somehow. But those were platitudes for the shrink Carson had forced him to see, and John deserved his honesty.
"I found myself an anchor. Something to hold on to," he confessed. "So I wouldn't think about it."
John's gaze was intense as he stared searchingly into Rodney's eyes, but the scientist didn't flinch away. His heart was pounding as the other man reached for him, slowly, giving him all the time to pull away. Instead, he leaned forward, a sigh escaping him when John pulled him into an almost desperate embrace, holding him so tightly it hurt a little. He could feel John's heart beat against his chest, racing just like his own. This was what he had wanted since he'd first looked into those hazel eyes and seen the pain hidden in their depths, what he hadn't thought he could have. But John was here, clinging to him, and Rodney thought that maybe they were both just broken enough to build a better whole together.
"We would have paid, you know," he whispered foolishly. "If Radek hadn't been able to pinpoint the cell phone's signal and send Ronan for a surprise attack, we would have paid."
"And why would you pay a million dollars for a man you didn't even know?" John breathed into his ear. Rodney pulled back, and looked at the man he would keep from falling, who would in turn give him everything.
"Because I want him to live."