Archive of Our Own

Rodney McKay stood in the middle of the living room of the beautiful rental that was under his budget, in a good neighbourhood, and a mere fifteen minute commute from his new workplace. He only had one question. 

“What's wrong with it?” 

“Pardon?” The agent smiled and blinked at him. 

“There's gotta be a catch, right? Are there termites or something?”

“Nothing like that,” she laughed that salesperson laugh. “Just an inexplicably high turnover rate and a few folk tales over the past couple years.” 

“So, desperate to fill the place?” Rodney looked around some more, although he wasn't sure what he was looking for. 

“Let's just say, if you like the place we could sign the papers today.”

“I'll take it.”

The agent explained a few things while the two of them did paperwork. Previous tenants claimed to have felt a presence; nothing dangerous, unless you count having things rearranged. They usually moved out after three or four months saying they felt “subtly unwelcome”, as if whatever presence was there simply didn't click with them. Rodney assured her that he was quite used to that feeling and wasn't in the habit of being scared off by it. 

He moved all his furniture in - by himself, mind you - throughout the next week. The week after that, things started getting… weird. 

When Rodney came home from his first day at work, none of his furniture was where he left it. 

“You know what? It looks better this way,” he muttered, settling into the couch that no longer aligned the setting sun at eye level. A weird feeling floated around him, as if that response was pleasantly unexpected. 

One morning, about a month after he moved in, Rodney was spreading jam onto his toast as he was on the phone with his sister. 

“Yeah, I'm settling in well. The house is great!... My job? Ha, my job has already tried to kill me… Lemon meringue pie in the rec room! I told them in no uncertain terms about my allergies… No, I'm not claiming assassination, just reckless endangerment-”

He was about to take a bite of his toast when it flew out of his hand. 

“Hey!... Jeannie, I gotta call you back.”

The toast was halfway across the kitchen, and the jam jar started pushing its way across the counter, ingredients list facing out. He reread the ingredients, just to say he did, and his breath caught as he read the words “citric acid”. Whatever presence was in this house, it might have just saved Rodney's life. 

“Uh, whoever you are, thanks.”

The flour knocked over, and something started writing in the spill. 

Name's John Sheppard 

“Huh. Thanks for catching that, John.” 

It took a while for John to show his face, and it wasn't anything Rodney was expecting. His hair stuck up in all directions, and he was dressed like he was always ready for the beach. Frankly, he looked very human and alive, albeit see-through and floating several inches off the ground. 

The first time he showed himself, Rodney had been working on a project for several hours without a break. He looked over to see a protein bar floating over to him, and smiled as he took it. 

“Thanks, John.”

“No problem, Rodney.” 

Rodney's hand froze mid-bite, and he turned around to see a cheeky grin across John's translucent face. 

“So. Haven't chased me out yet,” Rodney said. 

“I think you're cool.” The ghost shrugged in midair. 

“I'm cool?”

“Cooler than the other people in my house.”

“Well, technically, I am the one on the lease.”

“Only because I died! I'm still here, it's still my house!” 

“Alright, Mr. It's Still My House, let's see some rent.” Rodney smirked as John's face scrunched in frustration. “That's what I thought.” 

“It's hardly my fault that ghosts don't get a paycheque.” 

“Dead and a freeloader. Fantastic.” 

“Well, what do you do?” John crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Rodney shuffled defensively. 

“I'm a physicist. Wormhole theory mostly, but I've been known to work on exotic particles, among other things.” 

Rodney wasn't sure what he expected - to be laughed at? To be mocked? To be called an egghead or a nerd or other uncreative taunts? Whatever he was expecting, it surely wasn't the light of curiosity that flashed across John's shining hazel eyes. 

“You're a scientist?” There wasn't a trace of mockery in his voice; if anything, it was awe. 

“I am.” There was an awkward pause, then Rodney continued, “What did you use to do?” 

John scrunched his face again, but differently - Rodney couldn't quite place it. Instead of answering, John just faded away. 

“Good talk.” 

John's awe in Rodney's science career stuck with him, and he came home with a whiteboard that barely fit in his car. The ghost appeared as he set it up in the living room, silently looking over Rodney's shoulder as he touched up the half-erased equations. 

“You forgot to carry the two,” John joked. 

“You wanna do this, genius?” Rodney snapped. 

“I mean, I could've been MENSA.”

Rodney blinked at him. “MENSA? What do you mean could have?” 

“Took the test. Told them no.” John shrugged, and lounged back in that untethered-to-the-laws-of-physics way he always did. 

“I- you- told them no?!” Rodney sputtered. “But you passed, right? Do you know these equations?”

John opened one eye to peek at the whiteboard. “I could probably figure it out.” 

“Right. He could probably figure it out.” Rodney muttered. “I'm going to be the only one in my department getting his math checked by a ghost.”

“It's more common than you think,” John smirked. “Geniuses always have unfinished business.” 

John was even more help than he had claimed to be, and the two of them poured over every equation Rodney brought home. Sometimes John caught an obvious mistake - saving Rodney many an embarrassment - and sometimes he spurred an epiphany. 

“I feel like we should start sharing credit,” John said one day. “I'm doing a lot of the work, I should be getting recognized.”

Rodney scoffed at him. “Yes, because it wouldn't be suspicious at all if I started having papers co-authored by Guy Who Died Seven Years Ago et al..” 

“You've got a point.” 

“Do you think you could get a snack over here? It's been awhile since I've eaten.”

A minute later, a plain cheese sandwich floated into Rodney's waiting hand, which he thanked John for. 

Dual credit or not, their work got the attention of some secret government agency. Rodney wasn't sure how the Men In Black at his door knew who he was or where he lived, but he certainly didn't trust them. 

“Dr. McKay?” one of the suits asked. 

“Speaking. Why?”

“Due to your works in astrophysics and wormhole theory, we'd like to offer you a job.” 

“A job?”

“Scientific consultant for a confidential division out of Cheyenne Mountain. You'll have to sign this non-disclosure before we tell you more.” He held out a manila envelope, and Rodney hesitantly took it. 

“Cheyenne Mountain, that's- that's out of Colorado, isn't it?” Rodney mused. “Pretty far to commute.”

“You would have accommodations on base, yes.”

His heart climbed into his throat at the thought of moving house. What would happen to John if he left? Would they lose each other entirely? Would he like the new tenants? 

“I'll take the NDA and… sleep on it. This is one of those can't-turn-back things, right? Big decision.” He slammed the door in their face, trying not to dwell on the small possibility of getting arrested for bashing in a government official's face with a door. He called desperately for John, who had been listening the whole time. 

“You should go, Rodney.” John said, appearing behind him. Rodney whipped around, failing to disguise the crashing waves of emotion behind his face. 

“I can't- I won't leave you behind!”

“Who said anything about leaving me behind?” John grinned. “Follow me.”

He floated over to the master bedroom closet, and pointed to a floorboard in the corner. 

“Lift that up.” 

Rodney raised an eyebrow, and got his fingernails under the board. It came up suspiciously easily, and he banished the thought of property damage to the same corner of his mind as the possible assault charges. There, among the crumbling insulation, was a dust-covered thing shaped roughly like a small telescope. 

“Yeah, grab that thing.” John said, nodding to the small object. Rodney picked it up and dusted it off, revealing a multitude of shapes and colours. It rattled as he gently turned it, slightly afraid that it would disintegrate at his touch. 

“What is it?” Rodney breathed. 

“It's the thing keeping me here.” John explained. 

“Here as in this plane of existence, or here as in this house?” 

“Yes? I go where it goes. Which means if you pack it, we can both take that job.”

“Don't think a ghost can sign an NDA.” Rodney joked. 

“Well, who else will check your math?” John clapped back. 

“OK, but seriously, what is it?” Rodney held up the object, and John got defensive.

“What do you mean, what is it? It's a kaleidoscope!” 

“What are you, five?”

“I was when I got it.” John scowled. “It was the last thing my mom gave me.” 

“Oh, god. I'm sorry, John.” Rodney looked down at the kaleidoscope, and tried to picture John receiving it as a small child. 

“Are we going to keep being sappy, or are you gonna go pack?” John smirked. Rodney jumped up and started pulling clothes out of his dresser. 

He was more than a little nervous about breaking the small toy, so he went to the store to buy a protective case that would still keep it portable. When the agents came back the next day, Rodney handed them the signed NDA and gripped his suitcase. Instead of leading him into a car - which he couldn't see anywhere - one of the agents tapped his ear and Rodney's surroundings shimmered so brightly he raised his free hand to protect his eyes. A loud hum burned in his ears, and quieted as fast as it came. He looked around, and he was no longer on his doorstep. Turning around the militaristic bridge, he thought he was on some battle cruiser before looking out the window and seeing Earth. 

“John, you still with me?” Rodney whispered, barely audible.

“That felt weird.” John joked at a normal volume, and Rodney breathed a sigh of relief. A quick glance told him no one else heard or saw John, and he wasn't sure if he was relieved to not start a riot or concerned about being seen as insane for talking to someone no one else could see. 

“What's going on?” Rodney asked the man in what he assumed was the captain's chair. 

“Dr. McKay, my name is Colonel Caldwell,” the man said. “You are aboard the starship Daedalus.”

“Uh, they said I'd be going to Cheyenne Mountain?” Rodney looked back and forth between the window and Caldwell in confusion and awe. 

“We're waiting for clearance to beam down.”

“Beam down? What, like Star Trek?” Rodney scoffed. 

“We get that a lot.” Caldwell chuckled, then the radio rang out that they were cleared for transport. Rodney glanced at John, who had an excited grin on his face. 

“Hold your breath,” John said, just as the bright light and deafening hum surrounded them again. When Rodney could see again, he found himself in what could best be described as the command centre of a missile silo. John was floating right beside him, looking like a child on Christmas. Rodney's eyes were drawn to the blue light shining from the blast screen, which was emanating from something only theoretically possible. 

“Beautiful, isn't it?” 

He turned around to see a blonde woman smiling down at the ring of light. 

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked. 

“If you think it's a stable artificial wormhole, yes.” The woman turned to look at him, and stuck her hand out to shake. “Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter.”

“Dr. Rodney McKay,” Rodney said, taking the handshake. “How-?”

“It's called a stargate.” Colonel Carter explained. “But you won't be taking that today.”

“Taking it? Would someone please give me a straight answer as to what is going on?!” 

“Rodney, maybe she would if you'd let her talk,” John said from behind him. “Or maybe the woman on the other end of the wormhole will, I don't know.”

“What woman on the other end of the wormhole?” Rodney whipped around to look at John, who was pointing to the computer that was open to a video call. 

“Oops,” John muttered, hoping he didn't make them question Rodney's sanity. 

“I was getting there,” Carter said, scrunching her face in confusion and gesturing to the computer. “That's Dr. Weir, head of the Atlantis mission. There are some things that could use your expertise over there.”

“Over where?” Rodney asked, and Carter beamed. 

“In the Pegasus galaxy.”

“The Pegasus- can you start from the beginning, please?” 

And she did - she explained all about the stargate and the Ancients and the Asgard and the flying city that may or may not have a sentient artificial intelligence. She also explained the dangers; the Wraith and the Genii and the Replicators and to a lesser extent the Goa'uld, which she assures have all but been defeated. Rodney understood the science, had spent his adult years theorizing about this very thing. He even took the leap and explained John to her, who helped his case by showing himself. 

“Just so you know, he comes with me or no deal,” Rodney said. 

“That can be arranged,” Carter promised. 

After a lot more paperwork, Rodney and John were beamed back to the Daedalus and were on their way to Atlantis. John was more excited about the trip than Rodney was, floating all around and scaring the life out of several unsuspecting techs by asking questions about how fast the ship goes. 

When they reached the city, Rodney didn't feel anything. Well, anything out of the ordinary and expected excitement, wonder, and anxiety. But John - Rodney could see on his face that there was something more, something different. is chest heaved as if he was remembering how to breathe, his hands hovered over consoles that lit up at the idea of his touch. Even more, John seemed to glow. Being a ghost, he always had a shimmer about him, but this was more. He turned to Rodney, and his eyes were full of knowledge and understanding as he smiled at him. 

“Rodney,” he chuckled in amazement, “I think I'm gonna like it here.”