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"I don't know if I can do this, Mer. I know he didn't email me back and tell me not to come, but I…."
John closed his eyes and left his head fall back against the seat, trying desperately to shut down the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm him. His tension had begun to build before they'd boarded the flight to Dulles, finally cresting as he'd coasted down the long driveway leading to the Sheppard homestead. Now he was finding it impossible to release the wheel and step out of the car, to answer the long-pondered question of whether he could ever call the place home again.
"We don't have to, you know." Rodney's fingers were cool against the heat of John's face, soothing as they stroked from temple to chin while carefully avoiding the slightly tender bruise John was still sporting from his sledding accident. "Listen, if you want to turn around and catch an earlier flight to Denver…."
For some reason, Rodney's willingness to subject himself to the torture of airline security checks twice in one day was enough to jolt John from his funk. He opened his eyes and rolled his head to the side to flash Rodney a rueful smile. "No, that'd be stupid. Already come this far." Reaching out, he pulled Rodney close enough to touch their foreheads together, allowing the Athosian custom to impart its usual calming influence. He drew back after a quick peck to the downward side of Rodney's mouth. "Besides, what's the worst he could do? Throw me out? Been there, done that."
Rodney nodded in agreement. "That's the spirit! What's one old man when you've faced down Wraith queens with one smart-ass answer after another? Not to mention, you've got me at covering your six…uh…I am covering your six, right? I mean, if you don't want me to go in with you, I guess I can…."
John stemmed the accelerating babble with a roll of his eyes and a light, two-fingered touch across Rodney's lips. "Mer, breathe. Of course, I want you with me. Come on. Let's get this over with."
The crisp breeze that greeted them as they exited the warm car sent a shiver up John's back, but he refused to believe anything had just 'walked over his grave,' deliberating shoving away the fact his father had been a quadruple bypass away from one, only six months before. He knew if he thought about it too much, he'd only shut down faster, and his attempt at reconciliation would be over before it began.
A few leaves blew across the gravel as they approached the house, the wind carrying the aroma of hay and horse from the barns and paddocks. Rodney sniffed and made the face of 'oh god what have we walked into now' and his grumbled, "I'm allergic to horses, you know," had John smiling at the reminder that he wasn't alone.
It took a minute or two for someone to answer the doorbell; Rodney paced, John leaned to rest his strained ankle, and the grey-haired woman who opened the door looked puzzled to see them waiting there. "Yes? May I help you?"
"I…." John didn't recognize the woman and he couldn't seem to find the right words to handle the situation. It felt wrong not to have his P90 to lean his hands on as Teyla handled introductions.
Fortunately, Rodney had never let that slow him down. "Lt. Colonel John Sheppard and Dr. Rodney McKay to see Mr. Sheppard." As if realizing his tone had been a little too brusque, Rodney backpedaled a little with, "Uh, please?"
"Oh, of course! He mentioned his son might be stopping by." Holding the door wider, she allowed the two men to enter while continuing to chatter. "I'm Mrs. Jennison, the housekeeper. I must say I wouldn't have recognized you. You don't look at all like David, although now that I think of it there is that one picture…." She bustled down the hallway ahead of them, obviously expecting them to follow. "I'll just show you into the study and let Patrick know you're here." Pushing open a set of double doors, Mrs. Jennison ushered them into the book-filled study, indicating the leather sofa and chairs available for seating with a wave of her hand. "Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee or tea, perhaps?"
Rodney, who had immediately headed for the nearest bookcase, turned around to answer with a sharp, "Yes! Yes, coffee would be perfect…and maybe some cookies. I'm feeling like my blood sugar might be getting a little low? Oh, and nothing with citrus. Allergic to it." Rummaging in a pocket, he pulled out a tissue and blew into it, grumbling, "Like those da…uh…horses." John grinned at the pink blooming in Rodney's cheeks that had nothing to do with a sniffly nose and, suddenly, he didn't miss his P90 anymore.
However, he didn't think he'd chance anything in his stomach until later. "I'm fine, ma'am. Nothing for me, thanks." A quiet gurgle, that thankfully only John heard, proved his point. Much later.
"Very well, I'll be back in a few minutes with that coffee. Please make yourself comfortable."
As soon as the housekeeper was out the door, John walked over to Rodney, rested his forehead on the back of Rodney's neck, and just breathed. The warmed leather of Rodney's jacket mixed with Jeannie's chamomile soap and enhanced the underlying scent of Rodney. It was the smell of home, the one he'd finally found after wandering for too many years without one. Rodney stayed still, quiet, understanding that John just needed a moment to regroup without distraction, and John was so damn glad that Rodney got that and that he was there.
Taking one last deep breath, John drew away to wander across the study, inevitably recalling the last time he'd been there, how angry his father had been. Rodney followed, his attention still half on the books until he spotted a picture sitting on a corner of the massive wooden desk and called John over to look. "This is you? Wow, I didn't think the hair could be any more out of control, but I was obviously mistaken."
Embarrassed, John rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled, "I can't believe he..." He picked up the dark frame and stared down at his younger self. He placed the frame back on the desk before turning to Rodney, straightening from his habitual slouch, no longer mumbling. "…no, I guess I can. That's probably the last picture taken before I turned into someone my father couldn't respect."
Before Rodney could voice the protest that John could see simmering in his eyes, a deep, gruff voice disagreed. "That's where you're wrong, son." John turned to see his father walk into the study, leaning on a cane. "I may have been angry that you gave up everything I'd planned, just so you could fly, but you never lost my respect."
The memories of past arguments surged forward when John looked into his father's face, overriding his initial dismay at the changes wrought by age and disease. Falling into the trap of old grudges, John retorted, "That's not the impression I got when you told me Nancy was…."
"Mr. Sheppard!" Rodney's right hand waved an invisible white flag between the two Sheppards, accompanied by a rapid-fire introduction. "I'm Dr. Rodney McKay."
The elder Sheppard gingerly shook Rodney's hand before asking, "Patrick, please. Doctor?" His eyes held a look of concern, as he looked a little closer at John.
Rodney jumped in with a clarification. "Oh, no. Not that kind. Ph.D times two, astrophysics and mechanical engineering. I work…."
"He's my partner, Dad." John deliberately shifted to stand next to Rodney, placing a proprietary hand in the small of Rodney's back. "He also happens to be the reason I'm here." John took one of the calming breaths Teyla had spent hours teaching him and blew it out slowly. "I wanted…I was hoping you and I could work things out between us."
"You…." Patrick's voice faltered and he wobbled for a moment before taking a seat on the nearest chair. "John, I…."
"And here's your coffee, and those cookies you asked for Dr. McKay. There's oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip." John couldn't decide if Mrs. Jennison's arrival was a godsend or a curse, but Rodney's opinion was quite apparent as he immediately headed for the tray she held.
"I'll just take both and do you think I could get the coffee in a mug?" Rodney glanced over his shoulder at John and smiled apologetically before turning back to the housekeeper. "I think I'd like to take it outside. There's a few things I need to check…on my…on my laptop and I'm sure John and his dad would like some privacy, so why don't I follow you back to wherever…" Turning back around, Rodney snapped his fingers at John. "Keys!"
Unable to suppress a smirk at Rodney's all-too-obvious retreat in the face of 'talking about feelings,' and wishing he could join him, John pulled the car keys out of his pocket and tossed them, laughing when Rodney fumbled them with a scowl in John's direction. He felt a little better when Rodney shifted anxiously from one foot to the other a few times before finally walking back to John and kissing him light and quick. He whispered, "I'll stay if you need me to," and John smiled at the edge of desperation in Rodney's voice and released him with a quiet, "Go on, Mer. I'll be okay."
Rodney nodded and turned away, but only took a few steps back to the patient housekeeper before stopping again to say, "I'll be right outside. Got my cell phone. You can call me."
John shook his head and laughed. "Or I could just walk out to the car. Get your coffee and go, McKay."
After one last squinty-eyed appraisal, Rodney nodded and followed Mrs. Jennison out, pulling the study doors closed behind them.
John had noticed before that it seemed as if it always took a few moments for Rodney's presence to vanish completely from a room. It was still lingering when Patrick said, "He's very…different."
John turned away from the closed doors to look at his father. He wasn't quite certain what he was seeing in Patrick's face, but at least he didn't appear angry, more baffled and uncertain. "Yeah. He's definitely one-of-a-kind." Walking over to the tray sitting on a small table, he poured himself a cup of coffee before showing the carafe to his father and asking, "You?"
Patrick waved it away with, "I'm limited to one cup a day and I prefer it with breakfast."
"Rodney would make us all suffer if Carson tried to cut his intake to one cup a day." John carried his cup back to sit on the sofa opposite his father. "The man mainlines the stuff."
"So…."
"Are you…."
Both men chuckled at their simultaneous attempt to find something to say, and then Patrick took the lead. "I'm glad you're here, John. I've had a lot of time to think the past few months and…well…I…." Patrick's voice trailed off, and John could see he was as lost for words as John usually was.
"Me, too. Like I said, it's why I'm here. Where I'm stationed…it's not always easy to reach me and I didn't find out about your bypass until a couple of weeks later. You could have…you might have…died…thinking I…" John's voice choked off, as useless as ever when it came to talking about feelings and he wished Teyla were sitting next to him, interpreting his mumbling the way she'd always managed to do for him before.
Patrick looked around the room until his gaze fell on his desk. He nodded toward it and said, "I meant it before, I just waited too long to say it and then it was too late, and I didn't think you'd want to hear it from me. I do respect you. You made your dream happen without my help." His shadowed eyes dropped for a moment in reverie before lifting again to meet John's. "That happens to be the only picture I had of you. Your mother was the one who took care of all that." He shrugged and smiled at John. "It'd be great if I could get a new one of you."
John relaxed back into the sofa with a grin. "I'm pretty sure we can manage that, Dad, at least Rodney can. It so happens that him and me? It all started with a camera. You see Jeannie, that's Rodney's sister, she sent him…."
