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Summary: John is engaged to Jeanne McKay, only to be drafted and fall in love with Rodney, unaware that his fiance and lover are brother and sister. McShep, Lorne/Beckett NOTE: In this Universe, Jeanne is kinda cruel

Updated: 29 Jun 2007; Published: 22 May 2007

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Story Notes:
A real Alternate Universe story. No Atlantis, no Stargate.

Author's Chapter Notes:
Evan McKay is an OC. It is not a projection of Lorne. Lorne comes later.


"Okay, okay," John Sheppard smiles, "What is the first thing you're going to do when you become a Sheppard?"

Jeanne McKay takes a long look at the man across the couch from her, feeling the warm arm around her shoulder. "Well, that's simple," she replies. "I'm going to do this---" Arching her head upwards and lifting a hand from her lap, she pulls John's head into a kiss, then releases. "---because that's what a good wife does."

"Hey you guys," Evan McKay chastes them as he enters the livingroom with a trio of glasses and a pint of whiskey. "No hanky-panky on the couch."

"But it's so difficult, little brother!" Jeanne frowns, placing small wet kisses down John's neck, "You wouldn't know, you've never been engaged before!"

"She's got you there," John agrees with a slight tilt of his head.

Evan sets the whiskey and glasses onto the glass-topped table as he drops into a low recliner opposite the hapy couple. "Y'know what Jeanne?" he ventures with a smirk and the tinkling of the whiskey into the first glass, "I bet Mom and Dad had sex on that couch."

Jeanne sits up proper and tosses a pillow at her little brother's head. "That's disgusting, Evan. Seriously."

"Oh good," he nods. "Whiskey?"

She takes the pre-offered glass and then passes one off to John Sheppard as Evan leans back and turns on the radio.

Everybody listens to the radio nowadays, news of the war spreading faster than a wildfire in mid summer. They are running out of enlisted men faster than they had anticipated and were sending out draft notices now.

John sighs. It's all the same old news. People are dead, people are wounded, more people go over, it never ends, just a vicious cycle.

Jeanne listens intently. She finds it all very exciting, almost as if she doesn't really believe there is a war. It's just a dramatic radio networking story with some amusing sound effects. Like all the neat explosions and the screaming of dying men.

Evan has friends in the enlisted, or so he says. John's never sure if he's telling the true about it or not because Evan doesn't like to fraternize with the lower class. But that's just Evan being Evan.

A particularily loud explosion sounds on the radio when a knock comes to the door and Jeanne jumps in surprise, almost hitting John in the leg.

"Evan, go answer the door," Jeanne says in a sweet voice. She likes to boss him around, but also wanted some alone time with her fiance.

Evan stands, used to being the obediant servant to his beloved sibling, "Yes, oh wicked one."

As he exits, Jeanne reaches for the pillow to toss at him, then remembers she already used it. She slides over, almost sitting in John's lap, leans back against his chest and pouts.

"Worse comes to worse, you could always through your whiskey at him?" John suggests. He isn't serious, but Jeanne scrunches up her nose.

"A waste of good alcohol."

John snickers lightly, running his hands through her curled brown hair. It's soft, smells of lemon citrus and he thinks about voicing a joke about the similairities between her hair and her personality. Soft, yet sour lemons. He decides against, not really in the mood to get smacked. Especially not while she's wearing her engagement ring.

He grins lightly into her hair, inhaling the scent. He's always been a sucker for punishment.

Evan returns then, his face as bloodless and pale as the white button-down shirt he wears beneath his deep blue cardigan. He tries to speak, but chokes on his words as John pushes Jeanne off of his lap.

"Evan?" John approaches him as Jeanne stands back, ever the keen observer. She's certain that bad news is coming and John relieves the younger McKay of twin slips of paper that Evan recieved at the doorway.

Silently, John reads them and then leads Evan to the couch sit. He looks up to Jeanne with a face of unexpressed emotion.

"Evan and me," he starts slowly, "We've been drafted."