wesleysgirl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wesleysgirl) wrote2006-09-11 09:28 pm
wesleysgirl) wrote2006-09-11 09:28 pm
Entry tags:
John/Rodney Earth AU, pt 2
Continued from here
"Kayla?" He raises his voice, ignoring the clench of fear and telling himself that she'll reappear from around the corner any second now as he moves quickly over to the hatchery. John steps out into the wide hallway and looks in both directions. He calls her again, more loudly.
But she doesn't answer, and there's no sign of her.
"Kayla!" John shouts again.
"For god's sake, she's probably in the Tamarin room," McKay says, from behind John. "Go check there."
"She doesn't like monkeys," John says, but goes anyway, jogging through the front quarter of the room with his heart pounding in his ears. There's a little voice inside him telling him he's freaking out over nothing, that Kayla will be there and all this terror will evaporate into relief.
But she's not in the Tamarin room.
"Call security," John snaps at McKay, who looks startled.
"It's not like she's been kidnapped," McKay says. "She just wandered off. She'll probably wander back any second." He looks hopefully around, but there's still no sign of her, and now John's clench of fear is starting to feel more like he's going to be sick.
"Just call them," he says.
He makes his way through the exhibit across the hall and the one next to that. There aren't enough people around to block his view, and there's a lump in his throat and sweat prickling his palms as he steps into the hallway, looks both ways, and heads toward where the floor opens up to show the ones above and below, connected by a series of escalators. Jesus, there's so much space, and enough people that it's impossible to easily spot one little girl.
"They're going to make an announcement," McKay says, appearing at his elbow and keeping up with him as he strides forward. "What was she wearing?"
The past tense in that almost makes John retch. "Is," he snarls. He's not going to explain. "She's wearing, um, a pink shirt. With flowers. I think." God, why hadn't he paid attention? It's the kind of thing Elizabeth would have pointed out as they were walking in from the parking garage. "Okay, Kayla's wearing a purple shirt with butterflies," she'd have said, under her breath so as not to give Kayla a reason to worry. Then, in a louder voice, she'd have announced that if anyone got separated from the group they should all meet at the information desk.
His hands are clutching the top of the railing that surrounds the giant balcony, and he's shaking. He feels very small and very scared.
Someone touches his back. "Easy," McKay says. "We'll find her. Come on. You go that way and I'll go this way." Without waiting for John to respond, he goes, and in that moment a rush of hope floods John and gives him the strength to push away from the railing and start walking again.
This isn't happening. This can't be happening. In a decent world a man doesn't lose his wife and then his daughter a year later. It would be a comforting monologue if John didn't know better; as it is, he's hyperventilating, acutely aware of the fact that the soles of his sneakers are too thin, that he should have insisted Kayla wear a jacket because it's almost fall, for fuck's sake, and she's just a little girl. The announcement comes over the loudspeaker, finally, but John can hardly listen to it because it's like a sick joke, not real, not real.
He's halfway around from where he started and McKay is coming toward him, looking worried.
Still, John asks, "Did you see her?"
"No," McKay says. "Do you think there's any chance she might have gone back to the entrance? She seemed like a smart kid, she must know -- "
And then the loudspeaker is repeating John's name, telling him that his daughter is waiting for him at the information desk, and all the strength goes out of John like a switch has been flipped. He wobbles on his feet, the only thing keeping him from sitting right down on the floor McKay's hand under his elbow.
"Oh, I see, you're one of those," McKay says, like that means something. "Figures. Come on, John Sheppard."
McKay walks him over to the elevator and then toward the entrance, keeping hold of him the whole time. They're thirty yards from the booth when John sees her, her cheeks pink, and she breaks away from the woman in the red museum shirt standing beside her and runs to him. John bends as she flings herself at him and they both end up on the floor, John holding her tightly.
"Never do that to me again," he scolds, stroking her hair as she trembles. "Do you hear me?"
"I'm sorry," Kayla mumbles against his chest. John can feel her tears soaking into his shirt. "I thought you were right behind me, and then I turned around and you weren't there. And then I thought that you'd be here, at the information place like Mommy always said, but you weren't. Why weren't you here?"
"I'm sorry, baby," John says. They're making a scene, probably, but he doesn't care. "I forgot. I forgot that's what you'd know to do."
"I'm not a baby," Kayla says through her tears, indignant, and John laughs a little bit and tucks her hair back behind her ears.
"No, you're not," he tells her. "You're a big girl, and you were really smart to remember what Mommy said."
"I go to school and everything." Kayla pulls away and gets up, the trauma already forgotten in the face of John's insult.
He look up at Rodney McKay, who's standing a couple of feet away watching them. "You want to give me a hand?" John asks.
McKay hesitates, then reaches out and grabs onto John's wrist and pulls.
"Thanks," John says. There's a part of him that wants to blame McKay for having distracted him into taking his eyes off Kayla just long enough to lose sight of her, but among other things John likes to think he's a fair man, and what happened is his own fault, not McKay's.
"You're welcome," McKay says.
"Can we see the dinosaurs now?" Kayla asks, tugging at John's pant leg.
"Sure," John says. His heart is still beating too fast, but he knows from previous experience that it'll calm down in a couple of minutes. "Well," he says to McKay, suddenly awkward.
"Yes, yes. Have fun," McKay says, and walks off.
The dinosaurs keep Kayla's attention for about half an hour, and then they end up right back at Fish, Fads and Fireflies where they always do. It's Kayla's favorite exhibit, and John figures if nothing else they've gotten their money's worth out of the museum membership he bought back in February, because they've spent hours here over the summer. By the time he manages to pry her away from the fish tank simulator it's almost lunchtime, so they go back down and make their way to the cafeteria through the growing crowds. There's another argument about the stupid Dipping Dots, an argument that John participates in because he should and not because he particularly wants to. The mood he's in, he'd rather just agree to letting her eat nothing but ice cream for the rest of her life as long as she doesn't disappear on him like that ever, ever again.
But Kayla finally agrees to pizza -- no pepperoni -- and she goes to claim a table in John's line of sight while he waits in line to pay.
"Watch where you're going," a familiar voice snaps off to John's right, and he can't help it -- he glances over to see Rodney McKay waiting impatiently in the line next to his. Their eyes meet. "You again," McKay says, and takes note of the fact that Kayla's not there. "Don't tell me you lost her again."
"She's right there," John says, gesturing with his chin.
McKay steps back, almost colliding with the man behind him, as two little boys chase each other around their mother, who is accepting her change from the cashier and looking harried. "This isn't a children's museum, you know," McKay tells her.
She gives him an annoyed look -- John doesn't blame her -- and collects her kids. It's John's turn to pay; he smiles at Kayla, who's kneeling in her chair and waving at him.
"Come sit with us," he offers to McKay, surprising himself. It's not like he even likes the guy -- who would? -- but he'd tried to help when Kayla was missing, and that meant something.
"Oh, yes, because after being surrounded by obnoxious children all day that's what I want to do with my lunch hour, sit with another one," McKay says, but he sounds almost pleased to be asked despite the sarcasm in his voice, and he comes along and sits down across from John.
"Hi," Kayla says, reaching for the little cup of ice cream beads eagerly.
"Pizza," John reminds her. He sets the plate in front of her.
"You didn't say I had to eat it first," Kayla says, but picks it up and takes a bite anyway. She looks at McKay curiously. "I want to get chickens," she tells him.
"Yes, well, they look cute in the hatchery," McKay says. "But believe me, they make a hell of a... heck of a mess." As bad-language saves go it's not much of one, but it makes John smile anyway.
"It's okay to say hell," Kayla tells him. "It's just a place that some people believe in." She looks at John. "Daddy doesn't believe in hell. But he believes in heaven." She looks at him for confirmation.
John is finally starting to lose the last of the pounding adrenaline that had been coursing through him when Kayla was missing; he feels loose-limbed and relaxed. "That's right," he says. "I do."
McKay rolls his eyes and finishes chewing a huge bite of what might be a burrito. "I make it a policy never to discuss religion over lunch," he says. "Or any time, actually."
"Probably not a bad idea," John says.
"Two more months until my birthday," Kayla announces. "You could come to my party if you want to. Mommy's friend Sam comes. He's gay, too."
McKay chokes spectacularly, and his face turns deep red. Just as John is preparing to get up and clap him on the back, the coughing becomes sputtering that John is pretty sure has more to do with indignation than food. "Excuse me?" he manages, swallowing. "What makes you think I'm gay?"
"You do that same thing with your mouth that Sam does," Kayla says, and John collapses into helpless laughter while McKay's scowl deepens.
"You can't say stuff like that to people, Kayla," John tells her, still laughing.
"How come? There's nothing wrong with being gay. You and Mommy said so."
"I know. That's why you can't say stuff like that. It makes it sound like there is something wrong." John wishes he could explain it more clearly; she might not be old enough to understand.
"But I didn't mean it like that." Kayla is frowning, worried. She looks at McKay. "I wasn't trying to be rude."
McKay grumbles something under his breath. Kayla must understand him, though, because she looks relieved and goes back to eating her pizza.
"Sorry," John says insincerely.
"Yes, I can tell," McKay says sourly. "I'm glad you find this so amusing."
"So does that mean you are gay?" Kayla pipes up.
McKay puts his hand over his face. "Fabulous," he says, getting the intonation just right, and that sets John off again. He laughs until he cries, and Kayla takes advantage of his distraction and eats all of her ice cream, leaving the pizza to get cold and hard on the paper plate. McKay finally says that if she doesn't want it he'll eat it, since otherwise it's just going to go to waste, and after all it's the least she can do considering that she feels perfectly comfortable discussing his sexuality in the middle of a crowded cafeteria.
John leans back in his chair, his throat and chest aching, and realizes it's been more than a year since he laughed so hard.
He's not sure how he feels about that.
TBC
"Kayla?" He raises his voice, ignoring the clench of fear and telling himself that she'll reappear from around the corner any second now as he moves quickly over to the hatchery. John steps out into the wide hallway and looks in both directions. He calls her again, more loudly.
But she doesn't answer, and there's no sign of her.
"Kayla!" John shouts again.
"For god's sake, she's probably in the Tamarin room," McKay says, from behind John. "Go check there."
"She doesn't like monkeys," John says, but goes anyway, jogging through the front quarter of the room with his heart pounding in his ears. There's a little voice inside him telling him he's freaking out over nothing, that Kayla will be there and all this terror will evaporate into relief.
But she's not in the Tamarin room.
"Call security," John snaps at McKay, who looks startled.
"It's not like she's been kidnapped," McKay says. "She just wandered off. She'll probably wander back any second." He looks hopefully around, but there's still no sign of her, and now John's clench of fear is starting to feel more like he's going to be sick.
"Just call them," he says.
He makes his way through the exhibit across the hall and the one next to that. There aren't enough people around to block his view, and there's a lump in his throat and sweat prickling his palms as he steps into the hallway, looks both ways, and heads toward where the floor opens up to show the ones above and below, connected by a series of escalators. Jesus, there's so much space, and enough people that it's impossible to easily spot one little girl.
"They're going to make an announcement," McKay says, appearing at his elbow and keeping up with him as he strides forward. "What was she wearing?"
The past tense in that almost makes John retch. "Is," he snarls. He's not going to explain. "She's wearing, um, a pink shirt. With flowers. I think." God, why hadn't he paid attention? It's the kind of thing Elizabeth would have pointed out as they were walking in from the parking garage. "Okay, Kayla's wearing a purple shirt with butterflies," she'd have said, under her breath so as not to give Kayla a reason to worry. Then, in a louder voice, she'd have announced that if anyone got separated from the group they should all meet at the information desk.
His hands are clutching the top of the railing that surrounds the giant balcony, and he's shaking. He feels very small and very scared.
Someone touches his back. "Easy," McKay says. "We'll find her. Come on. You go that way and I'll go this way." Without waiting for John to respond, he goes, and in that moment a rush of hope floods John and gives him the strength to push away from the railing and start walking again.
This isn't happening. This can't be happening. In a decent world a man doesn't lose his wife and then his daughter a year later. It would be a comforting monologue if John didn't know better; as it is, he's hyperventilating, acutely aware of the fact that the soles of his sneakers are too thin, that he should have insisted Kayla wear a jacket because it's almost fall, for fuck's sake, and she's just a little girl. The announcement comes over the loudspeaker, finally, but John can hardly listen to it because it's like a sick joke, not real, not real.
He's halfway around from where he started and McKay is coming toward him, looking worried.
Still, John asks, "Did you see her?"
"No," McKay says. "Do you think there's any chance she might have gone back to the entrance? She seemed like a smart kid, she must know -- "
And then the loudspeaker is repeating John's name, telling him that his daughter is waiting for him at the information desk, and all the strength goes out of John like a switch has been flipped. He wobbles on his feet, the only thing keeping him from sitting right down on the floor McKay's hand under his elbow.
"Oh, I see, you're one of those," McKay says, like that means something. "Figures. Come on, John Sheppard."
McKay walks him over to the elevator and then toward the entrance, keeping hold of him the whole time. They're thirty yards from the booth when John sees her, her cheeks pink, and she breaks away from the woman in the red museum shirt standing beside her and runs to him. John bends as she flings herself at him and they both end up on the floor, John holding her tightly.
"Never do that to me again," he scolds, stroking her hair as she trembles. "Do you hear me?"
"I'm sorry," Kayla mumbles against his chest. John can feel her tears soaking into his shirt. "I thought you were right behind me, and then I turned around and you weren't there. And then I thought that you'd be here, at the information place like Mommy always said, but you weren't. Why weren't you here?"
"I'm sorry, baby," John says. They're making a scene, probably, but he doesn't care. "I forgot. I forgot that's what you'd know to do."
"I'm not a baby," Kayla says through her tears, indignant, and John laughs a little bit and tucks her hair back behind her ears.
"No, you're not," he tells her. "You're a big girl, and you were really smart to remember what Mommy said."
"I go to school and everything." Kayla pulls away and gets up, the trauma already forgotten in the face of John's insult.
He look up at Rodney McKay, who's standing a couple of feet away watching them. "You want to give me a hand?" John asks.
McKay hesitates, then reaches out and grabs onto John's wrist and pulls.
"Thanks," John says. There's a part of him that wants to blame McKay for having distracted him into taking his eyes off Kayla just long enough to lose sight of her, but among other things John likes to think he's a fair man, and what happened is his own fault, not McKay's.
"You're welcome," McKay says.
"Can we see the dinosaurs now?" Kayla asks, tugging at John's pant leg.
"Sure," John says. His heart is still beating too fast, but he knows from previous experience that it'll calm down in a couple of minutes. "Well," he says to McKay, suddenly awkward.
"Yes, yes. Have fun," McKay says, and walks off.
The dinosaurs keep Kayla's attention for about half an hour, and then they end up right back at Fish, Fads and Fireflies where they always do. It's Kayla's favorite exhibit, and John figures if nothing else they've gotten their money's worth out of the museum membership he bought back in February, because they've spent hours here over the summer. By the time he manages to pry her away from the fish tank simulator it's almost lunchtime, so they go back down and make their way to the cafeteria through the growing crowds. There's another argument about the stupid Dipping Dots, an argument that John participates in because he should and not because he particularly wants to. The mood he's in, he'd rather just agree to letting her eat nothing but ice cream for the rest of her life as long as she doesn't disappear on him like that ever, ever again.
But Kayla finally agrees to pizza -- no pepperoni -- and she goes to claim a table in John's line of sight while he waits in line to pay.
"Watch where you're going," a familiar voice snaps off to John's right, and he can't help it -- he glances over to see Rodney McKay waiting impatiently in the line next to his. Their eyes meet. "You again," McKay says, and takes note of the fact that Kayla's not there. "Don't tell me you lost her again."
"She's right there," John says, gesturing with his chin.
McKay steps back, almost colliding with the man behind him, as two little boys chase each other around their mother, who is accepting her change from the cashier and looking harried. "This isn't a children's museum, you know," McKay tells her.
She gives him an annoyed look -- John doesn't blame her -- and collects her kids. It's John's turn to pay; he smiles at Kayla, who's kneeling in her chair and waving at him.
"Come sit with us," he offers to McKay, surprising himself. It's not like he even likes the guy -- who would? -- but he'd tried to help when Kayla was missing, and that meant something.
"Oh, yes, because after being surrounded by obnoxious children all day that's what I want to do with my lunch hour, sit with another one," McKay says, but he sounds almost pleased to be asked despite the sarcasm in his voice, and he comes along and sits down across from John.
"Hi," Kayla says, reaching for the little cup of ice cream beads eagerly.
"Pizza," John reminds her. He sets the plate in front of her.
"You didn't say I had to eat it first," Kayla says, but picks it up and takes a bite anyway. She looks at McKay curiously. "I want to get chickens," she tells him.
"Yes, well, they look cute in the hatchery," McKay says. "But believe me, they make a hell of a... heck of a mess." As bad-language saves go it's not much of one, but it makes John smile anyway.
"It's okay to say hell," Kayla tells him. "It's just a place that some people believe in." She looks at John. "Daddy doesn't believe in hell. But he believes in heaven." She looks at him for confirmation.
John is finally starting to lose the last of the pounding adrenaline that had been coursing through him when Kayla was missing; he feels loose-limbed and relaxed. "That's right," he says. "I do."
McKay rolls his eyes and finishes chewing a huge bite of what might be a burrito. "I make it a policy never to discuss religion over lunch," he says. "Or any time, actually."
"Probably not a bad idea," John says.
"Two more months until my birthday," Kayla announces. "You could come to my party if you want to. Mommy's friend Sam comes. He's gay, too."
McKay chokes spectacularly, and his face turns deep red. Just as John is preparing to get up and clap him on the back, the coughing becomes sputtering that John is pretty sure has more to do with indignation than food. "Excuse me?" he manages, swallowing. "What makes you think I'm gay?"
"You do that same thing with your mouth that Sam does," Kayla says, and John collapses into helpless laughter while McKay's scowl deepens.
"You can't say stuff like that to people, Kayla," John tells her, still laughing.
"How come? There's nothing wrong with being gay. You and Mommy said so."
"I know. That's why you can't say stuff like that. It makes it sound like there is something wrong." John wishes he could explain it more clearly; she might not be old enough to understand.
"But I didn't mean it like that." Kayla is frowning, worried. She looks at McKay. "I wasn't trying to be rude."
McKay grumbles something under his breath. Kayla must understand him, though, because she looks relieved and goes back to eating her pizza.
"Sorry," John says insincerely.
"Yes, I can tell," McKay says sourly. "I'm glad you find this so amusing."
"So does that mean you are gay?" Kayla pipes up.
McKay puts his hand over his face. "Fabulous," he says, getting the intonation just right, and that sets John off again. He laughs until he cries, and Kayla takes advantage of his distraction and eats all of her ice cream, leaving the pizza to get cold and hard on the paper plate. McKay finally says that if she doesn't want it he'll eat it, since otherwise it's just going to go to waste, and after all it's the least she can do considering that she feels perfectly comfortable discussing his sexuality in the middle of a crowded cafeteria.
John leans back in his chair, his throat and chest aching, and realizes it's been more than a year since he laughed so hard.
He's not sure how he feels about that.
TBC
I forgive you the cliffhanger
It is veddy, veddy good thing.
Re: I forgive you the cliffhanger
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I so, so love you for the "he's gay too" line. That was perfect and made me grin like a loon :)
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Here's where I reveal my complete geekiness with the names. Kayla = Teyla is probably kind of obvious. Sam = Ronon. Ronin, Samurai, Sam. Get it? *Is a total dork*
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I didn't get the Ronon thing, but that's cause I had no idea of the etymology in the first place. Very cool, though! :D
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thanks!
*bouncy!bounce*
almost fell off my chair from this one: 'Mommy's friend Sam comes. He's gay, too.'