Rating: NC-17
Summary: If anybody was to make sure that this man would stay safe and sound, it would have to be John, if only for the reason that everybody else would kill the overconfident son of a bitch within the first five minutes.
AN: Originally, this story was intended for a fanzine, but it got rejected because of too many POVs. Well. I like them. ;)
I thank Denis and Bröt-chan for the beta (the usual suspects), as well as Jane and Fenris_Wolf. Any remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Far Ahead The Road Has Gone
Antarctica.
The first time John saw the inside of the research facility he'd been flying to and fro for the past three months, he just had been almost killed by an alien space missile. Then suddenly there was that weird orange guy staring at him and demanding even weirder things, like imagining their position in the solar system. It was only after blue lights and star charts had come up all around them, that he realized just how bad an idea it had been to sit down in that damn chair. Judging by the greedy way that dark-haired woman watched him, he had just signed over his soul to the devil. The General's look had become calculating, and the Scot somehow managed to radiate worry and excited interest at the same time.
The orange guy merely seemed pissed.
Two days later, John was transferred from McMurdo to stay with the research team. "I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want. It's a big decision," O'Neill had said. "But if you're not going, the least you can do is help them figure some things out before they leave." On one hand, it would probably make his nights a lot less cold, since this was a base full of highly intelligent civilians, none of whom would give a shit about 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', or rather, the 'Don't Pursue' part of that law – not telling was definitely encouraged. On the other hand, he was assigned directly to the head scientist Dr. McKay, of whom rumour told that he practically never slept. Well, with a bit of luck, he could combine the two. Who knew, some of those scientists he had seen that first time had been pretty attractive, and McKay might be gay. The man was Canadian, after all.
Turned out that McKay was the orange guy. He was pushy, arrogant, belittling, and so caught up in his work he wouldn't notice a come-on if it bit him in the ass. Worse, he wasn't attractive at all. The blue eyes were kind of beady, the mouth was wide and crooked and its corners always turned down, the skin was the kind of pale that suggested a strong aversion to all things outdoors, and if that and the hint of a double chin weren't enough, the receding hairline just added to the picture. So John resigned himself to a week of work and work alone. Maybe his cooperation would get him reassigned to somewhere warmer. He liked Antarctica and its wide, white solitude, but it wasn't worth freezing his ass off. He sure as hell wasn't going to Atlantis. It was hard enough getting his head around Stargates and aliens and technology he could control with his mind. But going to another galaxy to explore a mythical city without knowing if he could ever come back? Fuck, no!
He was well into his third day of turning things on and off at McKay's command, bored and irritated, when one of the other scientists barrelled into their little lab and excitedly announced that the SGC had okayed the taking along of two more naquadah generators. McKay's whole face lit up, and suddenly, inexplicably, John found that crooked could be quite sexy when combined with a grin, and that smug satisfaction could make blue eyes shine brightly enough to compensate just about anything. He couldn't help grinning back, even if he didn't have the slightest idea what a naquadah generator was, and that grin seemed to be his ticket into the wonderful world of science. Because after that, impatient orders and otherwise silent working became, well, impatient orders and even more working, but the silence was drowned in the animated spilling forth of hypotheses, theories, explanations, and lots and lots of bitching. And you kind of had to like a man who was so passionate about what he was doing, who really was smarter than anyone else, although it wasn't easy to get around the enormous ego and discover the playful sense of humour normally hidden under biting sarcasm.
John did his best to make the slightly mischievous smile, that promise of somewhat different fun, appear as often as possible. Because even though being Canadian obviously didn't equal being gay or at least polite, McKay was actually pretty cool, in a unique Sith Lord of all geeks kind of way, and John found himself drawn to the man almost against his will. And after all, he wouldn't ever see him again, so what could it hurt?
One week of trying to figure out Ancient technology turned into two due to unspecified trouble with some international committee, something he wasn't exactly unhappy about. What he was doing was interesting, and he had found that one of the Russian technicians gave great head, even if it was just minutes spent in dark corners instead of the nights he had been looking for. Dr. Weir was still on his case, but he wasn't intending to boldly go where no man had gone before, thank you very much. He had been born on Earth, and he was planning to die here.
The Scot Beckett, the guy who had tried to kill him on his very first day, was talking to McKay when John walked into the small lab they had set up at the end of his second week. Two more days, and most of the scientists in this part of Antarctica would break up camp and leave for another galaxy. Beckett was worried, speaking of Goa'uld and replicators and not knowing what the Ancients had run from, while McKay was impatiently trying to make him shut up, saying things like "It was a plague, Carson," and "Don't be stupid," to stem the thick flow of words that got harder and harder to understand. Finally, the Scottish doctor stormed off, and John turned to McKay. He had worked with the physicist for barely two weeks, but he already knew the man well enough to tell he was frightened underneath his annoyance.
"He does have a point, you know," the scientist blurted, surprising him. "We have absolutely no way of knowing what we're walking into, and frankly, that thought alone is enough for me to be terrified. There could be anything lurking in that galaxy, just waiting for us to arrive and be killed in a variety of innovatively bloody ways."
"There'll be soldiers coming with you, McKay. They'll protect you."
"Yes, well, I'll just put my life into the hands of total strangers then and hope they're competent enough to earn at least a little trust. Right." The other man paused, looking at him with a strange expression. "You sure you're not coming? Only O'Neill said something about exceptional flying, which probably means your reflexes are fast enough to make you a good shot, too, and you've got the gene, that's got to be an advantage-"
"McKay," John disrupted the rant, feeling helpless. "Look, I'm sorry, but-"
"Yes, yes, alright. Not coming. Fine. I'm sure it will turn out well. Don't you think?" The Canadian turned away before John could answer, leaving him with a strangely hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had never thought that the Atlantis mission could be anything but boring, a possible one-way trip into geek heaven. Uneventful. He hadn't expected the scientists to actually need protection.
That night, he couldn't stop thinking about it.
The next day Dr. Weir announced that they would leave Antarctica earlier than they had planned, right after McKay had talked with her for at least half an hour. She said she wanted to give everybody the opportunity to say goodbye to their loved ones, but John knew it hadn't been her idea. When he asked McKay, the scientist said he simply didn't trust the military to take proper care of his cat, and besides, they were allowed one single personal item, and what sufficiently impressive personal item could you possibly get in Antarctica or Colorado Springs? But then he glanced at Beckett, who was animatedly telling some colleagues how he would spend the time with his mum, and John knew all he had to know about Dr. Rodney McKay.
When they said their goodbyes, the physicist looked at John and cleared his throat.
"Well, think about it. Different galaxies, strange new worlds, chance of a lifetime, and all that stuff."
"I will," John promised, but he knew he wouldn't. Instead, he would think of scientists and their reluctance to put their lives into the hands of uncaring strangers. Of arrogant people who were too shy to brag about doing a friend a favour, and of things lurking in shadows, waiting for fresh blood.
About a man whose faults and shortcomings made him strangely endearing, who was attractive in a really quirky way, and who would walk into the unknown despite his fear and insecurities. Who deserved to be protected, if only to keep that sense of humour alive, that underlying and well suppressed belief that the universe really was a weird and wonderful place. If anybody was to make sure that this man would stay safe and sound, it would have to be John, if only for the reason that everybody else would kill the overconfident son of a bitch within the first five minutes.
He threw a coin to decide if he should bring "War and Peace" or the complete edition of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy". The boring book won. That had to be a good sign, right?
~~~
Atlantis.
One year later, and they were just tentatively starting to believe that they weren't completely screwed. The Wraith had come and gone, thinking Atlantis was destroyed thanks to Rodney's and Zelenka's mother of all Hail Marys. The two scientists had once again pulled a rabbit out of their hats; God only knew how often they had managed to do that over the course of the last two weeks. They had been going almost entirely on stimulants by the end of that time.
On the other hand, they had lost Ford. Remembering the Lieutenant's face when he had ordered him to stand down, John thought it was nice that at least he hadn't been sneered at. Still, the once so cheerful young man was gone, and it hurt. Losing a member of your team always did. And this felt more like losing your kid brother.
"Go get some sleep, Rodney," he said in a none too friendly way when he returned to the control room hours later and found the scientist still there.
"I'd really love to, but I can't," was the acerbic answer. "We have no way of knowing what the sudden introduction of the ZedPM has done to the city's systems. There could be fires breaking out right now, and we-"
"Rodney!" he interrupted. "There are dozens of people who can check that out, it doesn't have to be you. Now go, before I make you."
Rodney threw his hands up in frustration. "Fine," he bitched over his shoulder as he stalked off, "just don't come running to me when the city blows up."
John watched him leave. For almost a minute, he had believed that the physicist had died along with the rest of Atlantis. He had never felt so sick in his whole life, desperately trying not to think of how it had been supposed to be the other way around, how this wasn't fate anymore, this was irony. Him surviving while they just… disappeared. Then Elizabeth's voice had come over the radio, and his relief had been so strong that it had felt almost tangible. She had been there when the Daedalus had beamed him back, even hugged him, but he had to admit at least to himself that hers wasn't the face he had wanted to see.
Somewhere during the last year, his strange protectiveness towards one Rodney McKay had grown into something so strong that it sometimes scared him. Tentative affection had turned into friendship, love even, and John wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good thing or not. Thankfully, the scientist had remained completely oblivious to his team leader's obsession that otherwise would have driven him away faster than you could say "straight as a very straight thing". 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Don't Pursue, Yadda' wasn't really an issue millions of light-years away from Leavenworth, but the loss of trust and friendship was, and John would be damned if he'd let that happen.
Not that he pegged his friend to be homophobic, quite the opposite: very few people could care any less about the sexual orientation of those around them. But a 'romanced' McKay was a nervous McKay, who then tended to be jittery and awkward and far from concentrated; and it would end with John having to take his scientist off the team, which just was a big no-no. Because there was no way he would be able to explain to Elizabeth exactly why Rodney being grounded equalled John having to stay on Atlantis as well, for how could he protect the man if they weren't even on the same planet?
So he had decided he'd rather grit his teeth and be just a friend instead of trying to convince McKay that for him, this was it, Rodney was The One, with very capital letters, and could they please just kiss already? Which would basically lead to him then spending the rest of his stay in the Lost City of the Ancients lonely and miserable, because being all grown up and mature about it didn't change the fact that basically, rejection sucked big time.
Love on one side simply had to be enough.
It sure as hell stopped him from killing the man three hours later when he passed the labs on the way to his quarters and heard that very familiar voice. He stopped, and watched the physicist stare tiredly at the monitor of his laptop, waiting until the other man looked up and their eyes met. He could see the nervous swallow, and it gave him a grim satisfaction.
"Look, before you yell at me, I tried to sleep like you told me to, but there was this completely unexpected energy spike, and Simpson called me because she couldn't reach Radek, and-"
"Rodney. Are we all going to die within the next twenty-four hours?"
"Uh, probably not, no."
"Go."
In an uncharacteristic bout of wisdom, Rodney decided not to argue. John didn't know if he should smile at that, or frown.
Radek. He liked that guy, he really did, but the Czech was a constant source of irritation. The way he connected with Rodney to the point where they would finish each other's sentences. The way he always seemed to be right there, right at Rodney's side, ready to take on all things scientific. The way he would hold his own in an argument, giving almost as good as the master of sarcasm himself. And what the hell was it with that first name thing anyway? Rodney spent more time with John than with the Czech, and still all he got was "Major". Alright, so the only ones the scientist called by their first names were civilians, but still.
Jealousy was a bitch.
John actually managed to get seven hours of uninterrupted sleep, time he had desperately needed. Then his radio crackled, and Elizabeth called him to her office for a preliminary debriefing. Rodney was in the control room, half hidden under a burnt out console, and John had to take a breath and count to ten before he spoke.
"I thought I told you to get some sleep? Several times?"
A dull thump and muttered curses were his reward. The scientist's face appeared from underneath the console, blinking at him sheepishly.
"Ah, that guy, Grodin's replacement? He's gone to sleep, only this thing is needed to monitor the activities of the Stargate and raise the shield, and they didn't know who to call, so they came to me." He huffed. "What was I supposed to do, tell them to come again later and hope like hell the Genii didn't bother?"
"How long have you been here?"
"I don't know, four hours?"
"And you couldn't call anybody else?"
"Most of the others are sleeping." This made John raise both his eyebrows, and Rodney flinched.
"Are you trying to make me hurt you?" John growled.
"Um…"
The alarm went off before any of them could say another word. Rodney bumped his head as he scrambled up from underneath the control panel and stumbled to his feet. John reached out to steady him as the scientist swayed, silently cursing the way everybody came running to McKay whenever there was a problem. The man was beat, clinging to consciousness by the skin of his teeth and a deeply ingrained sense of responsibility.
"What's happening?" Elizabeth strode into the room, and Rodney visibly pulled himself together before he staggered over to another console. He took one look at the readings, and paled.
"Oh no," he breathed, and John felt his heart drop.
"What?"
"Rodney?"
He and Elizabeth shot each other a slightly irritated glance when they both spoke at the same time, but then they concentrated on Rodney, who was wringing his hands, and that was never a good sign.
"They're back." The scientist stared at them, fear plainly written across that expressive face. "The Wraith ships. They're coming back."
"How long?" John asked tersely.
"Ten hours. Ten and a half, if we're lucky."
"Damn." He looked at Elizabeth, who was staring back at him with wide eyes. Fuck. Okay. "We have to hook up the ZPM to the Stargate, draw as much power as we can to evacuate our people back to Earth. Send someone out to wake those who are sleeping, they probably won't hear your announcement over the intercom. We should get Zelenka here as soon as possible to prepare his computer virus."
"Now, wait a minute-"
"We can use the remaining power of the ZPM to enhance the self destruct," he ploughed on, ignoring Rodney's interruption, "I will stay behind and make sure it goes off."
"No! That's… that's insane; Elizabeth, you can't let him do that!"
"I don't see another way, Rodney," she said quietly, helplessly. "We have to make sure that the Wraith don't reach Earth, whatever it takes." She looked at John, her eyes dark with sadness. "I'm sorry."
"You're- No, there's got to be another way, I just have to figure it out."
"Rodney."
"Look, just… just give me some time here, I'll think of something, just-"
"Rodney!" John cut him off, hating himself for the betrayed look that flickered over the scientist's face. "You can barely keep yourself upright, let alone save anyone! Now, the Daedalus is gone, and even if she were here, she'd never be able to stand up against ten Hive Ships, so our only option is evacuation. So I want you to stop bitching, get Zelenka, and power up the Gate, NOW."
"Major-"
"GO!"
Another desperate look, and Rodney turned, radiating defeat as he slowly left the control room. Elizabeth was watching the scientist go, sympathy evident in the softening of her features. He could tell that she was torn by her decision, but just like last time, they couldn't afford lengthy discussions about what was wrong and what was necessary, and she knew it. Still, he had to suppress a wince as she turned to look at him with a mixture of sorrow and affection.
"You did the same thing to us just a few days ago."
"It's the only way," John stated softly.
"I know. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
Two hours later, Zelenka announced that his virus was ready and the power from the ZPM could be rerouted to anywhere in the city, including the Stargate. After the members of the expedition had left, John would have to connect it to Atlantis' self destruct systems. The Czech would show him how to.
Rodney came to him after Zelenka had left.
"Listen, maybe we decloaked the city too soon, maybe the Wraith picked something up, but they still can't be sure we're actually here. So what if we disappear again?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean that now we have a ZedPM, we can power the chair. We could relocate the city, move it to another place. We could hide and wait till they're gone again."
"Yeah, because that worked so well the last time we tried it."
"No, look, if you would just come with me to the chair, we could at least try to save Atlantis, instead of blowing it all up!"
"Rodney, I have a city to evacuate! And even if we could spare the ZPM's power for the chair, moving Atlantis a few miles to the right won't change anything! So just see to it that your scientists are ready when we open the Gate to Earth."
"Right, because why give up the chance to indulge your hero complex and blow yourself to pieces! Well, I hate to tell you this, Major, but they won't build you a statue, nobody will even know what you did, and frankly, that eternal gratitude towards your saviour thing only ever works in the movies. Especially when, Surprise! There would have been another way! So your death will not only go by unnoticed, it will be completely pointless, but hey, you'll die with the fuzzy feeling of doing it for the greater good, which has to count for something!"
Rodney had started to yell over the last two sentences, and heads turned to look at them in surprise. And those words stung, hurt like nothing the scientist had ever said to him before, because they weren't fair, because he was doing it for him; he was just trying to protect him, damn it! And so his voice was cold when he looked the other man up and down and asked shortly, "Why don't you go do your job, and let me do mine?"
The physicist's desperate face closed off, and he stared at John with something akin to hatred.
"Right. My job. Excuse me."
And John wondered if he had just killed the best friendship he had ever shared with anyone, eight hours before he would die.
Seven hours and twenty minutes to go, and he was busy summing up his report of the last few days for the SGC, when the lights went off. Emergency lighting kicked in almost immediately, and he sprinted through dimly lit corridors, passing startled people on his way to the control room without acknowledging their shouted questions.
"What happened?" he inquired breathlessly once he came to a halt right behind Zelenka, who was furiously replacing crystals on a control panel.
"Rodney. He has rerouted the ZPM's power to the control chair."
"That damn- I told him I wouldn't sit down in that thing! And I know that both Carson and Kusanagi are caught up in the evacuation, so what the hell does he think he's doing?"
"Maybe he thinks he doesn't need them, the stupid man."
"What do you mean?"
"Rodney has been working on an interface to allow those with the artificial gene access to the chair. We didn't have time to test it yet, but I guess we'll find out if it works in a minute or two."
"No, we won't!" He reached for his radio. "McKay! Get your ass out of that damn chair!"
There was a long silence, and he was just ready to call again, as Rodney's tired voice came through his earpiece.
"So long, Major." Three simple words, and John's blood froze at the sound of his own pathetic goodbye thrown back at him. It brought the situation to a whole new level of So Not Good.
"McKay, get out of that chair! Rodney!" he yelled, concern growing when he didn't receive an answer. He clicked his radio again. "This is Sheppard, someone go to the chair room and get McKay out of that thing, now!" Zelenka's actions had turned desperate, frantically trying to tap into the system and get the power back to where it belonged.
"It won't kill him if it doesn't work, will it?" John asked worriedly.
"No," was the short answer. "But if it does, it probably will."
~~~
Rodney finished the sequence that rerouted the ZedPM's power to the chair and cut it off from all other systems. It was simple enough; Radek would be able to crack it in less than ten minutes. But he still would have more time than he needed.
He checked the interface, hoping desperately that the small, jury-rigged device would do its job like it should. The light was steady, indicating a strong connection to his brain waves, and he sat down, forcing his fingers to loosen their white-knuckled grip around the most important experiment he had ever needed to work.
The chair obediently sprung to life around him, the back moving down, causing him to lie rather than sit. Rodney's heart was pounding in his chest, dread and nervousness making him sweat. But this was necessary, this was the only way to stop a certain Air Force Major to try and kill himself, again, which was getting older by the minute. He refused to go through that anymore. You only could stand a certain amount of fear for your friends, and he was way beyond it. And while he really, really didn't want to be a hero, he knew that his was the right way to go to save both the city and its inhabitants.
Besides, he was only doing his job, practically following a direct order. And if he was just quick enough, he might even survive this. Alright, chances weren't all that good, but who knew? Maybe he would be lucky.
Sure. Maybe.
His radio crackled, startling him.
"McKay! Get your ass out of that damn chair!" John's voice yelled at him. But the Major wasn't the only one who knew when a sacrifice was called for. The well-being of the many, right? One of the many amazing things you could learn from clichéd sci-fi. And he didn't even have to think about a catchy goodbye line.
"So long, Major," Rodney murmured, concentrating on Atlantis.
And it was everything he had imagined it to be, and more. The city lay wide open before him, humming in a calm blue, a strange beauty in its simple pathways, its organized schematics; millions of circuits he could follow, millions of roads for his mind to take. Experimentally, he tried to summon a map of the most basic systems, and it appeared without hesitation. If this was what John felt like whenever he connected with any of the Ancient technology, Rodney's never admitted envy might just reach even higher proportions.
He found what he was looking for at the very base of the city, which kind of figured, and darted towards it. So far, he hadn't actually tried to interact, and his admiration of Atlantis wasn't exactly enough to drown his worry of what it would do once he announced his presence.
But the connection worked without any problems, and with cautious delight, he started to make the Ancient city bow to his will. It did so without hesitation, without delay, and he revelled in the ease with which the systems operated after lying dormant for ten thousand years, even as he sped through routines and safety protocols trying not to use up too much of his precious time.
Then the calm, blue pathways switched to a dark red, telling him he was in trouble moments before the city's A.I. warned him in no uncertain terms that he was No Kindred, and further actions wouldn't be tolerated. Rodney ignored it, avoiding the first attempt to stop him, cut him off, shut him down, by dashing to the far end of Atlantis, all the while keeping his connection to that one important routine.
Around him, long unused systems started to power up, submitting themselves to the A.I. as it called up its self-defence mechanisms.
He prepared himself for the race of his life.
~~~
"What do you mean, it will kill him?"
The Czech opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it shut with a horrified expression as the city around them began to shake.
"Zelenka? What are you talking about?"
"John! What is happening?" Elizabeth barrelled into the control room, Carson Beckett on her heels.
"It's Rodney. He's trying to relocate the city."
"Can he do that? How?" Carson asked nervously.
"He is using an interface to work with the control chair," Zelenka explained.
"Well, that's a good thing. Isn't it?" Elizabeth frowned at their concerned faces.
"Good thing? It's suicide!" The scientist's exclamation was followed by collective gasp and a shocked, "What? Why?" from Elizabeth.
"There is a reason nobody without the gene can use the chair. The Ancients didn't want to risk the Wraith taking over their city. They installed barriers against this kind of thing, including mental ones." The city shook again, stronger this time, and John experienced a strange sensation of vertigo.
"But Rodney has the gene," Carson interjected.
"Yes, but it is artificial. Unauthorized access. Atlantis' self-defence system won't allow that."
"So what are you saying?" Elizabeth demanded, her voice betraying her worry.
"I am saying that, as soon as he is detected, it will be Atlantis' A.I. against Rodney's mind, trying to shut him out at all costs while he is attempting to save us. It is only a matter of time until he loses that fight. He is smart, but he is tired."
For a second, there was shocked silence. Then John spun around, running towards the door while yelling into his radio.
"I said, get someone to the chair room and haul him out of that thing!"
His voice was drowned in the city's alarm as force fields came up around them with a faint hiss, flickering blue in the dim light. He stopped, barely managing not to run into one of them.
"Fuck! What the hell is that?"
"Atlantis has noticed the intruder. It has cut off access to all sensitive areas, including the chair room. Basically, we're in lockdown." Zelenka looked at them, pain in his eyes. "I am sorry."
"Oh my God," Elizabeth breathed, staring out of a window. They turned, following her gaze. At first, John didn't see what she was looking at. Then a blob of thick white fog passed the window with high speed, briefly obscuring the view before it disappeared.
"What the hell was that?" he asked.
"A cloud," Elizabeth sighed, "We're flying!"
"Good Lord!" Carson exclaimed, fear and awe warring in his voice. "Where is he taking us?"
Zelenka's eyes were glued to the screen, fixed on a readout. "He is relocating the city to the other side of the planet. We're almost there. This is crazy, it shouldn't be able to got that fast, even with supersonic- impossible!"
As if to confirm his words, Atlantis shook again, the feeling of vertigo returning with what John could now tell was a change of direction. The city had strong dampening fields, but the insane tempo was probably too much even for them. And now Atlantis was going down fast, too fast to land safely on the water.
"What the hell is going on now?" he yelled at the scientist even as he was bracing himself for the inevitable impact. Around them, alarms were blaring, and the lights flickered.
"He has to do things quickly, or he won't do them at all," Zelenka called back, still staring at the screen. "Don't worry, the ZPM has more than enough power to bring up the shields."
"Shields?"
But the explanation became unnecessary as the sunlight from the windows took on a greenish hue, swiftly fading until the only light left was from inside the city. It was familiar, and suddenly, John understood what Rodney had tried to tell him barely an hour ago. "We're under water."
"Yes," Zelenka verified just as a final tremor announced their arrival on the ocean floor, "Atlantis is submerged again."
"But this is safe, right?" Carson's Scottish accent was thicker than ever with worry.
The Czech swallowed, blinking rapidly. "Yes," he said hoarsely. "We are safe."
And all of a sudden, the alarms stopped, and the force fields disappeared.
"Maybe he just disconnected," Elizabeth guessed, but John was already running, darting out of the room and sprinting down hallways with a speed he hadn't thought himself capable of. There were people shouting questions, again, but he ignored them, just like before. Then there was a voice calling a medical team to the chair room; fear had his heart in a firm grip, and his blood was pounding in his ears as he ran. Reaching the chair room, he slowed down, steadying himself with a hand against the doorway as he looked inside. Three marines were standing across the chair, obscuring the view, one of them with his hand still at his earpiece.
"Stand down," he panted, and hesitantly, they moved out of his way, out of the room, bright enough not to ask any questions. He wouldn't have heard them anyway.
"Rodney?"
All he could see was the back of the chair and part of the scientist's still form, and when he didn't receive an answer, he hesitantly stepped inside, worry for his best friend barely overpowering the urge to run as far as he could and hide from what he feared he would find.
"Rodney?" he asked again, voice cracking, startling him.
But of course he wouldn't get an answer, and he felt sick as he reached the chair and got a good look at the other man.
Rodney was lying limply on the stretched out machine, his face even paler than usual, eyes closed. The fingers of his right hand were curled loosely around a strange device, probably the interface, and it was blinking furiously. His blue shirt was stained with sweat, and of a dark reddish brown around the collar where it had started to soak up the blood that was running in a thin but steady trickle from the scientist's half open mouth, his nose, his ears. From his eyes, making him seem like he was crying.
It was a sight that burned itself into his brain, promising endless returns for the nights to come. He took a shaky breath, not allowing himself to break down in front of the marines although his mind was screaming at him, failure. Although his heart was beginning to feel numb.
"Major!"
He stepped aside automatically, watching as the medics gently lifted the unconscious physicist on a gurney before whisking him away. The small device had rolled from Rodney's lax fingers and was lying forgotten on the floor, dull and lifeless. The chair was still humming and emitting its gentle blue light. John gave the thing a vicious kick.
"Will you stop it!"
Obediently, the chair shut down.
~~~
Teyla had just returned from the Athosian settlement on the mainland when the alarms had started to sound. She had stood on the ramp of the open puddle jumper, watching the people from Earth run around, shouting confused and fearful questions. She had come to respect her new friends for their determined resourcefulness, but in times like these they were like children, prone to panic. In her stillness, she had been the first to notice the change, the sense of sudden movement, and even though she could not see it, she had known that the City of the Ancestors was flying once again.
It had been brief, however, and when she used her radio to call Dr. Weir on a private channel to inquire about the situation, the other woman told her in short words that Dr. McKay had moved Atlantis to a safer location in a desperate attempt to escape the returning Wraith. Her concern grew as she learned that the scientist had been hurt in the process. No one knew the nature of his injuries yet, and while Dr. Weir did not voice her anxiety, it was evident in her tone, her clipped words. Of all the members of the expedition, her part as the leader was probably the hardest, especially in times like these when she could only stand and watch.
When Major Sheppard arrived at the infirmary, Teyla was already there, quietly talking to Dr. Weir to hear what she had missed while she was away. Her friend's face was pale and grim, and she ached for him as he sat down quietly to wait for word from Dr. Beckett. She had often noticed how deeply he seemed to care for Dr. McKay, how hard he had tried to keep him safe. And the scientist had returned the sentiment in his own odd way, not nearly as oblivious as the Major thought him to be. She deeply hoped that Dr. McKay was not hurt too badly, for the sake of both men.
Dr. Zelenka joined them a few minutes later. Major Sheppard did not even look up.
"The shields are holding, all systems online. We could probably spend a few hundred years like this," Dr. Zelenka answered Dr. Weir's unspoken question. She nodded.
"Thank you."
"Has Dr. Beckett said anything yet?" the scientist asked, his face creased by a deep anxious frown.
"No," Teyla answered, "Dr. Beckett has not yet finished his examination of Dr. McKay."
Dr. Zelenka nodded, although he was visibly displeased. The two scientists often seemed to disagree, something Dr. McKay did not take gracefully. And yet it was always the man with the glasses and the untamed hair he worked with when the need arose, and more often than not the two of them formed a team when the city was explored. It was a strange friendship, but a true one, formidable in many ways, and she felt for him and his worry. Dr. Zelenka was a man whose emotions ran deep, so this could not be an easy time for him.
Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Beckett. The doctor looked tired, without hope, and that alone told her that the news he bore were not pleasant.
The Major knew as well, an apprehensive, silent, presence by her side as Dr. Weir spoke up, "How is he?"
"Physically, I can't find much that's wrong with him. There has been slight haemorrhaging in different parts of his brain, but nothing too serious. His heart rate is a little off, but that could be because his body is still coming down from the stimulants. He hasn't slept nearly enough."
"So what is wrong with him?" The Major.
Dr. Beckett sighed. "I did a brain scan to be sure there was no further damage. His body is fine, but his EEG shows almost no activity, and what's there is sporadic at best. It's like his mind has been wiped clean."
"What are you saying?" Dr. Weir asked very quietly.
"I'm saying that he might still be breathing, but that chair killed him as effectively as a bullet to the head." The doctor took a deep breath. "Rodney's practically dead. He won't wake up again. I'm sorry."
He let them in to visit Dr. McKay's bedside. The scientist was pale, and several of Dr. Beckett's machines were connected to his body, beeping. Teyla could see her own shock and sorrow reflected on Dr. Weir's face, even as the other woman closed her eyes. Dr. Beckett himself seemed to be very close to tears, and Dr. Zelenka muttered something that sounded like "stupid miserable little man". But it was Major Sheppard to whom her heart went out. His expression betrayed nothing, but his body was tense, fists clenched at his side as he stared at the still body of his friend. Together, they had forged a strong bond, and she was proud to be a part of it. But at the same time, it had always saddened her to see how they had never acknowledged their potential to be so much more.
It was too late now.
The Major seemed to realize that as well, in the same moment she did. He cursed quietly, hard words that made Dr. Weir look at him with an air of hurt surprise. But he ignored her, ignored all of them as he turned away and left the infirmary without a backward glance. Teyla watched him with sympathetic eyes.
It was hard to lose a loved one.
~~~
It was night when John returned to the infirmary, not that it was noticeably darker at the bottom of the sea. The Wraith had come and gone, scanning in entirely the wrong place for Atlantis' remains. The city had disappeared, for all intents and purposes vanished from the planet's surface, and their enemies never suspected that the destruction had been fake, that the humans were still there, on the other side of the planet under several hundred feet of water. Rodney's plan had worked, and he regretted that he hadn't listened to his friend when the other man had tried to tell him about it.
But then again, he regretted a lot of things, didn't he?
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, closing his hand around the scientist's lax fingers. "I should have known you'd find another way. I told Caldwell I trusted you, and then I let you down. It should have been me on that chair, not you."
He caressed the cold fingers tenderly, sitting in silence for a while before gathering his courage and looking up into his friend's slack face. It hurt, more than he had ever thought possible, and Rodney wasn't even dead yet. Not entirely.
"I won't give up on you like that. There's got to be something I can do, I don't know. Hell, I read that your Colonel Carter's mind was trapped inside a computer once. Maybe that's what happened to you."
John raised the limp hand he still held and pressed a kiss on his friend's fingers.
"I'll find a way," he promised. "You can rely on me. I'll bring you back."
Gently, he put the scientist's hand back down on the mattress, and stood up, taking one last look at the comatose man before he turned and walked out of the infirmary. There were few people in the corridors, and he made his way to the chair room in good time. He stared at the damn thing in hatred, resisting the urge to kick it until the parts flew across the room, broken for good. Instead, he sat down, and the chair lit up cheerfully, succumbing to his slightest commands without hesitation, like always. He despised it for that. The city schematics appeared before his inner eye, but he ignored them, searching for something completely different.
"Rodney?" he called out, watching his voice echoing in blue sparks and sizzles. "Rodney? Are you here?"
There was no answer, but he hadn't really expected it to be this easy. He just had to try a little harder to connect, to find the traces of his friend. The moment he thought about it, a new window popped up in his mind, showing him a zigzagging trail of red across the calm blue of Atlantis. It took him a second to understand that this was it, a map of Rodney's attempts to avoid the city's self-defence routines. If he could just locate an ending point to see where the scientist's presence had vanished, if he could just make contact, if he could just find him, he would gladly apologize and offer all his chocolate for the rest of his life as reparation.
And there was a presence, at the very edge of his mind, cold and observing his every move. He stopped, wary.
"Who are you?"
"I am Atlantis," came the monotone answer. "You are lost. May we be of assistance?"
We probably meaning the city and its various routines and programs. John suppressed a hopeful surge of excitement; this might just be the chance he needed.
"I'm looking for someone. He was here earlier, this is his trail."
"The intruder has been neutralized." There was no inflection, no emotion in the short statement, and it made the blow all the harder.
"Intruder, are you crazy? He saved you!"
A moment of silence, then, "Confirmed."
"Confirmed? That's all? He was a human being, you can't delete a mind just like that! Where is he?"
"The intruder has been neutralized."
Again with that stuff. What was this, Windows NT?
"How? Why?" he demanded, hoping against better judgement that it had been a mistake, that Rodney was still around somewhere, that he hadn't been fucking snuffed by the very thing he had tried to protect.
"His data has been erased. He was not of the Kindred. His code was fake."
"It was the gene therapy, he got it so he could use the technology! Don't you see, you made a mistake! Check your logs or whatever it is you do, get him back!"
"You ache." Observation.
"You killed my best friend!"
Detached interest. "You ache like there is more than that."
And John snapped. Sure it was more, of course it was more, Rodney had been brilliant, vibrant, sometimes fun and sometimes scared, but always so alive, and John had loved him, damn it, even if he wasn't supposed to. He fired his thoughts at Atlantis' A.I., because instead of being glad that the city and his people were safe because of Rodney's sacrifice, he was just pissed, because this was wrong, it hadn't been necessary, it hadn't been fair. And he hated Atlantis, hated it with every fibre of his being, and he sure as hell didn't care if the Wraith came back and tore the place apart. John would leave first chance he got and never look back, because he hadn't been protecting the city, nor the people in it; he had been protecting Rodney, and without him, what was the fucking point?
He didn't give the A.I. a chance to answer, disconnecting himself and jumping out of the chair before it was fully upright again. The way he felt right now, he would either kill something within the next five minutes, or start to cry in front of whoever passed, and he couldn't afford either. His quarters were dark when he arrived, but he wanted it that way.
There was no room for light.
~~~
The Atlantis A.I. watched the Kindred slump onto his bed and bury his face in his pillow, shoulders shaking as he cried. It had been accused of making a mistake. That was unlikely, but of course a viable possibility. The question was how much damage would result from that mistake.
//Access Database: Human Population, Present.
/Access File: Rodney McKay, Doctor.
/Start Calculation: Odds for continued existence with individual's removal.
/Save Result: Temp6.897.130.889.721.657.002.
//Access Database: Kindred, Present.
/Access File: John Sheppard, Major.
/Start Calculation: Odds for continued existence with individual's removal.
/Save Result: Temp6.897.130.889.721.657.003.
//Start Calculation: Odds for continued existence under consideration of Temp6.897.130.889.721.657.002 and Temp6.897.130.889.721.657.003.
/Compute.
The resulting numbers were not acceptable. The continuation of Atlantis was highest priority. It had to be ensured by all means.
//Access memory block 46852158B65368/THA-100297.
/Start.
~~~
Carson didn't often act on intuition, because despite Rodney's ramblings, a medical doctor's job was very little dancing and waving of magical wands, and very much methodical observation and preservation of data. Genetics in particular was a field of work that was exceptionally free of stress if you didn't count the competitiveness; days filled with calm research, which had made it so appealing to Carson in the first place. He liked the logical construction of the genome, how the whole DNA was made up of four basic amino acids, and while great endeavours in his field were often combined with huge leaps of faith, he often got to the same results with hard work.
But he had been itching to use a particular piece of Ancient medical equipment on Rodney for quite some time now, like a constant nagging at the back of his head. He would have chalked it up to stress and fatigue, except it was just that wee bit too insistent to ignore. And he wasn't even sure what it did.
The various medical devices had been among the first to be catalogued and analyzed, on the assumption that in case of an emergency, the superior Ancient technology might very well save lives. As far as Carson knew, this particular instrument was a diagnostic device, in theory connected directly to Atlantis' database to help determine a patient's illness. He supposed it would come in handy some time, except so far there hadn't been any outbreak of the space flu, and during the ordeal with the bloody nanovirus, it had been completely useless. Well, maybe he hadn't used it right.
Anyway, what harm could there be in using it on Rodney? In the best case, it might actually reveal a new insight, anything to turn this horror into something he could treat.
Nurse Robbins was doing inventory, and he called the man over to supervise any change in Rodney's condition. Then he pressed the device against the comatose man's chest, and activated it. He jerked back in shock as five or six thin wires shot out of the small piece of equipment, almost dropping it as they pierced his friend's chest. The limp body arched as though exposed to a strong electrical current, and over the nurse's surprised yell he could hear the heart monitor beep its warning. The wires withdrew as quickly as they had come, leaving five small blood stains on the white hospital gown as the scientist slumped back against the mattress.
Rodney flat-lined.
Carson dropped the device and shouted his orders, two more nurses helping Robbins to get the defibrillator, inject the right amounts of drugs into Rodney's system, and charge up the paddles. He could freak out later, after he had gotten that stubborn heart to beat again. It took them four charges to get a reaction, and one more before the ECG showed its familiar saw blade pattern. Relieved beyond words, the doctor hung his head, taking a moment to compose himself. This had been scary, even more so because it would have been his fault. He could have lost Rodney, one of the closest friends he had, and he didn't even know what had driven him to use the bloody Ancient device in the first place. It just wasn't what he did.
After a deep, reassuring breath, Carson raised his head again, his gaze brushing over the EEG monitor. And lingering. And then he stared, blinked, stared again, murmured, "Dear Lord," and clicked his radio.
"Dr. Weir, Major Sheppard? If you would come to the infirmary?"
"What happened?" Elizabeth. He would bet anything that the Major was already on his way.
"You need to see this yourself," was all he said, turning to stare at the monitor again, blinking back tears. He didn't think that neural activity had ever been so beautiful.
Like he had thought, the Major arrived first. Carson was polite enough not to comment on the red-rimmed eyes or the exhausted face. Elizabeth joined them moments later.
"Carson. Why did you call us?"
"Well, as you might guess, it's Rodney." He pointed at the EEG, the slow spikes playing out on the three-dimensional display. "He's dreaming."
"Dreaming?" Elizabeth echoed, obviously confused, but the Major took a step closer to the bed, staring intently at its occupant.
"He's back," he whispered, hands balled into fists as if to stop himself from reaching out.
"That's right," Carson confirmed. "The man's got more luck than skill, and with Rodney, that's saying something."
"How?" Elizabeth demanded, and the doctor tried to explain what had happened. Major Sheppard never said another word, silently listening to Carson's story until he had finished, and then the soldier just turned, and stalked away.
Elizabeth took Rodney's hand into hers and gently stroked over his fingers.
"It's good to have him back." She smiled.
"Aye. It wouldn't have been the same without him." He looked at her. "Go back to sleep. It will take some time before he comes round."
"You should get some sleep, too."
"Nah, I'm fine. Can't have him yell at someone else, now, can I?"
They shared a grin, then yawned in tandem before Elizabeth left Carson alone.
Hours later, he was practically dead on his feet by the time Rodney finally woke up.
"Carson?" A confused whisper as his friend looked around, realizing where he was.
"Easy, lad. You've been in quite a deep coma for some time."
"A coma? What happened?" Suddenly, the scientist's eyes went wide and he gasped, clutching Carson's arm. "The Wraith! Did it work? Are we safe?"
When he received a nod, Rodney sighed in relief, and relaxed.
"Aye, and I really need you to answer me a few questions. Can you tell me your name?"
"John Smith. Is this the Dead Zone? Seriously, Carson, I remembered your name, so I really don't think some black witchcraft re-initiation ritual to welcome me back from the dead is what I need right now." Ah, sarcasm, the default setting of Dr. Rodney McKay. Carson suppressed a happy grin for the sake of medical doctors everywhere.
"Rodney, you had practically no brain activity, and then you flat-lined. Humour me."
"I had- What?"
"Now, your mother's maiden name?
"No, wait, Carson, what? I flat-lined? What?"
Rodney was back, indeed.
~~~
It had been amazingly anticlimactic. Rodney was up and about again, taking Elizabeth's combined thank-you speech and riot act in stride like it didn't matter, like he didn't care that he had almost died, not bragging about saving the whole city even once. Well, alright, once, but not in front of a large audience, not enough to make an actual impact. And damn if it didn't piss John off.
Royally.
Which was why, half a day after Carson had released McKay from the infirmary, John was standing in front of the labs, looking at the scientist loudly berating his underlings for their apparently not even mediocre work during his absence. Hands were gesturing sharply, fingers pointing in accusation while Zelenka stood at the sideline and watched, grinning.
Oh yeah. Royally.
"McKay. A word."
There might have been tears of gratitude in some of the scientist's eyes as they filed out of the lab, but John didn't care. Zelenka was still grinning, patting Rodney's shoulder before he left. Moments later, the Czechs voice could be heard from down the corridor.
"Alright, we all heard the man. Let's try to meet standards again, yes?" The muttered answers didn't sound very friendly. John ignored them, closing the door behind him as Rodney rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"A very wise person once said, 'Never argue with idiots – they drag you down to their level and beat you with experience'. I should have kept that in mind."
"We need to talk."
"What, you're no longer happy with this relationship?" The scientist raised his chin in mock defiance, but his eyes were nervous. Just as well, because John wasn't in the mood for banter.
"Next time I give you an order, you better follow it to the letter, or I'll kick your ass so hard you won't be able to sit down again, ever."
"Excuse me?"
"I told you to get out of that chair!"
Rodney stared at him like he had lost his mind. Then his face hardened.
"I'm sorry, Major, but I didn't think I had the time to discuss strategy with you, because oh, you wouldn't listen!"
"It could have killed you!"
"What, are you jealous that I did the suicide run for a change instead of you?"
Jealous, no. Seething, yes, and he had to restrain himself from hitting the sneering man, had to force himself to calm down.
"It wasn't your decision to-"
"Oh, please! If I hadn't been willing to risk life and limb, Atlantis would be nothing but a big pile of intergalactic rubble on the bottom of the ocean!"
Rodney looked proud, of all things, if in a pissed off way – and John lost it.
"So what?!" he yelled, startling the scientist into taking a step backwards. "You could have died, don't you get that? Have you thought about that? You could have died, and then what the fuck would I have done? You're the only reason I'm here!"
The other man froze, staring at him with wide eyes, and John paled as he realized what he had said.
"Fuck you," he added quietly, before he turned and pretty much ran away, leaving the dumbstruck scientist behind. The corridor was blessedly empty, not a single person between him and the transporter. He hit the panel blindly, never caring where he ended up as long as it got him away. His head felt completely empty, numb even, and he walked, one foot in front of the other, barely noticing where he was going as long as he didn't run into a wall. He ended up somewhere in the unexplored parts of Atlantis, finally stopping when he reached what seemed like empty VIP quarters, with everything at least three times as big as in his own room and nowhere left to go.
He wasn't really surprised when he heard the footsteps behind him after he didn't know how long, felt the presence of another person nearby. McKay was nothing if not stubborn, and it would be foolish to think he would let something like John's outburst just go without inquiring. The soldier tensed when he felt the other man come up to stand behind him, close enough to feel his body heat. Rodney didn't say a word, and John balled his hands into fists as he waited.
And then he was surprised, because he surely hadn't expected this, hadn't anticipated the strong arms slowly circling around his waist, pulling his unresisting body closer still until his back rested against Rodney's broad chest. A soft huff of warm breath grazed his ear, made him close his eyes.
"I never go for the pretty boys," Rodney whispered. "They're so infuriatingly hard to handle."
John swallowed, his throat almost painfully dry.
"I'm not a boy, Rodney."
"No. You're not."
And then there were lips nuzzling his neck, hands sliding over his t-shirt, caressing his chest through the soft fabric, and he gasped, because soldiers didn't whimper. Rodney chuckled, licking a spot behind his ear, and what the hell had happened to the nervous, stuttering man back on the planet of the Brotherhood, who couldn't flirt to save his life? The hands now grasping the hem of his shirt were sure, confident, not once hesitating as they pulled it up and over John's obediently raised arms. He turned around, quickly returning the favour before he could stop to think about what he was doing. Rodney stared at him as he tossed the blue shirt aside, took in a deep breath, and placed his hand to rest warm and heavy on John's chest, thumb lightly playing with the coarse black hair.
"John," he said, something like awe in his voice, and that was all it took. With a desperate sigh, John reached out, one hand cupping Rodney's head, the other firmly on his back, pulling him in, their bodies clashing as their mouths met. There was nothing elaborate about that kiss, nothing gentle, just the firm battle of tongues, the heady rush of the other man's taste. They were both panting through their noses, making little sounds of want and need, bodies pressing together, hands gliding over the warm skin of the other's back as they kissed. Rodney grabbed John's ass, fingers digging into the flesh beneath the loose BDUs, pushing their erections together. John moaned, his hands darting to the front of his friend's uniform pants, fumbling with the belt buckle, then with the buttons, clumsy in his haste.
"Wait," Rodney drew back, gasping, but John didn't want to wait, didn't want to lose this, and pulled him back into another sloppy kiss. Rodney laughed breathlessly into his mouth.
"John, wait. Shoes."
A firm push against his chest sent him stumbling, falling as something hit the back of his knees. With a surprised "Oomph," he landed on the bed, dust flying, limbs sprawled, and Rodney used his chance to kneel between John's legs that were dangling off the edge of the mattress. Nimble fingers worked quickly, getting rid of John's boots before trailing up his legs, caressing the insides of his thighs then reaching for the buttons, one after another, and pulling the thick military trousers down, tossing them away. A hand on each of John's knees, Rodney kissed his way up again until he reached the soft crease where hip met thigh, and John shivered as a tongue darted out to lick along the hem of his briefs, warm breath blowing over sensitized skin. Then he moaned as Rodney started to mouth his hard cock through the fabric, his hands caressing the back of John's knees.
"Rodney," he begged, "Come up here."
Something in his face made Rodney swallow hard as the scientist looked up, letting go of John to get rid of his own shoes and pants, climbing onto the mattress and into John's arms, settling down for another round of frantic kissing as they kicked the plastic-like dust cover from the bed and onto the floor. They pressed their bodies together, John arching up every time Rodney pushed down, their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin layers of their underwear. It wasn't enough, and he reached down, pushing the other man's tight boxers down over his ass and scrambling at his own. Rodney got the idea, peeling John's briefs from his raised hips and down his legs before discarding his own. They pressed into each other again, finally, gloriously naked, and moaned in unison as skin met skin. Coarse pubic hair pulled at silky flesh as they rubbed against each other, desperately seeking friction, never caring that the angle was completely wrong, that this was bound to hurt later.
He was close now, so close, and he reached down between them, grabbing both their members in a firm grip. Rodney's hand closed around his, and they stroked in tandem, fast, clumsy, dirty, perfect. They weren't kissing anymore, panting into each other's open mouths instead, bucking and stroking and, God, Rodney's cock was twitching under his hand, the first spurt of warm wetness coating his fingers, and Rodney grunted, burying his head in John's neck as he came.
"John."
It was barely more than a whimper, but it was his name, his name, and with a sobbing gasp, John gave himself over to his own orgasm, shuddering against Rodney's heavy weight.
They stilled, both just panting for a while, sweet exhaustion pulling at them. Then Rodney flopped onto his back, yawned, and looked at John with drowsy eyes.
"Sleep?"
John just nodded, unsure of what to say, where this left them. So he kept silent, letting himself be pulled close to his friend's body, ending up plastered against the other man's side, his head on Rodney's shoulder, deeply inhaling the familiar scent. He could hear Rodney's heartbeat under the warm skin, and it made him swallow a sudden rush of fear that this sound would stop someday.
John fell asleep counting.
~~~
He was alone when he woke up.
That in itself wasn't any reason to panic, but something about the cold mattress beside him made Rodney feel uneasy. It meant that John had left a while ago, not just to use the bathroom. He looked around the room. His friend's clothes were gone, his own stacked up neatly folded on a chair nearby. The dust cover lay crumpled in front of the bed, still exactly where it had landed the night before.
The night before. John's outburst had been a surprise to say the least, and he had needed a few precious moments to get over his initial shock. By the time he had been able to close his mouth, the Major had already stormed away, leaving it to him to track the other man down.
Well. That wasn't exactly hard in a city like Atlantis, especially for a genius like him. Even though he was still a little reluctant to use the systems like he had before, completely irrationally so.
So he had found John, and instead of wasting any more valuable time on highly overrated talking, he had done what he had wanted to do every single time one of them had gotten hurt, every single time the Major's crazy protective streak had gotten him into trouble on Rodney's account, hell, every single time Sheppard had surprised him by injecting something particularly smart into their usual banter. To reach out and touch. To find out if that skin he had seen – back when their very first mission had gone to hell and they had been forced to kill John – would be as warm under his hand as he thought. To find out if that slightly rounded belly was as soft as it had looked like. To find out if he could mess up that cowlick-twisted hair even more.
To find out if John would let him say his name.
Well, yes, of course Rodney could have just asked, but years of working with the military had shown him that the higher the rank, the less likely it was that a soldier would let himself be called by anything but their last name. Or said rank. So he had learned to use the first name as a sign of acknowledgement, of respect and a certain closeness he wouldn't ever admit to out loud. And even that applied to civilian personnel only, because you simply couldn't know which G.I. Joe, Bob or Dick who seemed nice enough would sneer at you for your impertinence. And even though Rodney had never allowed himself to depend on others, at least emotionally, he wasn't above admitting that learning this particular lesson had hurt.
He had been pretty sure that John wouldn't be like that, wouldn't mock him, except that the fear of polite yet firm declination had been enough to stop Rodney from asking nevertheless, and how could he have known that rejection had been the least likely reaction of all, that John had actually wanted them to be closer? Which was amazing, wonderful even, better than French Roast and chocolate; a warm, pliant body all for himself.
But John had left, and that wasn't wonderful at all, and frankly, he didn't quite get it. They were okay, they were safe, and Elizabeth had put everybody who hadn't been evacuated to the alpha site during the Wraith attack on stand down for three days, and okay, he hadn't exactly listened to that order, as had most of the scientists, because, ZedPM! There was so much to learn, to discover, and he hadn't been able to resist, but then John had shown up and, well, not said he loved him, but he liked him, and Rodney had gone out of his way to find him, to show him it was alright, and then there had been sex and-
Wait a minute. The man couldn't really think-? Because, fine, Rodney hadn't exactly said it out loud, hadn't said the words, but surely it had been obvious that this hadn't been something like, say, a pity fuck. A concept which in any way was so completely not his style that the thought alone was ridiculous.
On the other hand, this was John, and who could tell what was going on in that stubborn head of his? Because that watch-me-I'm-so-easygoing Air Force pilot was nothing if not complicated.
Damn the man.
~~~
John's quarters were probably not the best place to hide, but he needed time in private, to think things through, and the familiarity of his own room gave him a sense of safety that helped to ground him. A safety he should have been able to do without in the first place, because everything was fine, right?
God, who was he kidding? Fine was so far beyond him, it had probably stayed back on Earth when they had first left for Atlantis.
He sat on the edge of his mattress, plucking at invisible lint, like he had been doing for the last three hours. When he had woken tangled up with a softly snoring Rodney, his first reaction had been a happy finally. His second had been panic, and he had gotten away as quickly and quietly as he could, barely taking the time to collect the scientist's discarded clothes. It wouldn't look good if they both returned to the inhabited parts of the city all wrinkled and dusty, he remembered thinking, doing his best to straighten himself up before he had run away. Again. It was becoming a habit.
John had returned to his room with every intention to shower, change, and forget that last night had ever happened, but instead he had found himself sitting down on his bed, his mind replaying every minute, every touch, every sigh, over and over and over. He could still smell the other man on his skin, could still feel the dried flakes of their come on his belly.
It made it impossible for him to deny that last night had been real. It had been sex, it had been Rodney and it had been great, and Rodney had called him John. And it hurt, it hurt so much he could barely breathe, because it hadn't meant anything, just sex, a fling, a buddy fuck, Rodney giving him what he thought John needed. Except it wasn't like that, had never been about that. It had been about protection, friendship and trust; about his feelings, but now he couldn't even love Rodney from afar anymore, because it was tarnished, it was broken, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't go back to Earth and leave Rodney in a galaxy full of dangers, yet neither could he stay and pretend it hadn't meant anything, that it hadn't been the fulfilment of all his wishes except one. Because Rodney had touched him, but it had been empty, fake. It hadn't been what the scientist wanted. It had been nothing at all.
It left him floundering, more at loss than anything since he had come to this goddamn city with its endless wonders, wonders that made a man's eyes light up with amazement right before they tried to kill him. Maybe, now that contact with Earth had been re-established, maybe they'd send another Colonel, another man to be in charge. Someone better trained than John to cope with all the shit Pegasus threw at them, someone to take over from him and give him the room to breathe again. Or maybe it would be someone like Colonel Everett, who didn't have much love for the scientists and took them off the teams, keeping them in the city, keeping them safe. And John could relax and go offworld without Rodney and pretty much avoid the other man altogether, because he wouldn't be in charge anymore, and there would be no reason for him to socialize with the physicist any longer.
It might even work. Kill him, but work.
Except that things in Atlantis never played out the way he planned, and his door chime ringing was no different. He knew who was on the other side even before the doors slid open – without his command, and that was rather impolite, especially for a Canadian – and Rodney stormed into the room like he owned it.
John sat up straight, eyeing the scientist warily. He even got so far as to open his mouth to apologize for last night before Rodney started yelling at him.
"You've got to be the single most stupid, oblivious, stubborn, and idiotic man on this entire expedition! Oh, and did I mention stupid? Because what the hell is up with that vanishing act you keep pulling? Aren't you supposed to be a good soldier and look danger square in the eye?"
Huh. John closed his mouth again, staring at his furious friend, completely at loss. Again, not what he had expected. And before he could think of anything to say, Rodney went on, completely oblivious to John's confusion.
"No, forget that question, because God knows what the Air Force thought when they trained you, what with that lazy slouch and too large trousers and stupid drawl and cocky attitude, which is so not what I'm going to talk about now! We will talk about last night, and by that I mean that I will speak, and you will listen!"
"Okay." His mouth felt dry, almost painfully so. He could see where this was going now.
"Don't okay me, Major! If you think you're getting off the hook this easily, you've got another thing coming!"
Oh God. John closed his eyes, swallowing hard, trying to keep his growing desperation in check. He should have known this wasn't over, but Rodney had started it, Rodney had touched him first, and he couldn't yell at John for that, couldn't hurt him, couldn't leave him. Except he could, of course he could, had every right to do so, because how should he know that John had wanted him for so long he couldn't even remember a time when the scientist hadn't been there to be protected, cherished, loved? And now a single night had ruined it, had blown it all to hell, and if Rodney wanted to tell him that their friendship was over and done with because he thought he had just been a convenience, John just wished he would do so and then leave him to pick up the pieces in private.
Clothes rustled right in front of him, and John braced himself for the blow he was sure would be coming any second now. The gentle touch of a warm hand against his cheek startled him, and his eyes flew open in wild surprise.
Rodney was kneeling in front of him, right hand stretched out to caress John's face, looking at him with a tenderness that shouldn't have ached, but it did.
"Idiot."
It sounded like an endearment, and Rodney leaned forward and brushed his lips over John's. John sat frozen, stunned, unable to comprehend what was happening. He couldn't move, just stare at his friend with confused blankness, not daring to believe, not daring to hope. Another soft kiss, and something inside him broke.
He reached out, pulling Rodney up, pulling him close, holding him in an embrace so tight it had to hurt, but the other man didn't complain, just returned the hug with equal fervour. John buried his face in his lover's neck, head swimming from the scent he remembered drinking in last night, and he didn't cry, he didn't, but he might have been trembling. Rodney's large hands were stroking up and down his back, soothing, grounding him, and he burrowed into the other man's warmth, clinging to him like he might drown if he didn't. They stayed like that for a few endless minutes, until John felt he could breathe again, and he pulled back, just a little.
"I love you," he whispered, raining frantic kisses all over the scientist's face, "I love you, I love you, I love you."
"John," Rodney whispered back, voice cracking, "John-"
And then they were kissing, anxious, frenzied, distressed, seeking reassurance in the other man's mouth, John still pressing as close against Rodney's body as he possibly could. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening, and he was afraid to let go, afraid that this was all a mistake. But Rodney pulled him in just as desperately, and maybe this was real, maybe he could trust this. He relaxed a little, and they pulled apart, catching their breath, staring at each other like they had never met before.
And maybe they hadn't. Not like this.
John smiled shakily, his hand cupping the back of Rodney's head, and he brought them together for another kiss. This one was calmer, more curious than frantic, and they took their time to explore, tongues caressing, flickering over lips and teeth, learning every nook and cranny of the other's mouth. Rodney sighed, gently nibbling along John's lower lip, and John smiled again, finally daring to believe that he could have this.
That he could keep this.
He pulled back, feeling confident enough to ask where this was going.
"Rodney-"
"I love you," Rodney interrupted. "I, ah, I didn't tell you last night, but I do." He trailed off, looking uncertain.
John's smile was wide enough to make his face hurt, and they just had to kiss again, so he made sure that they did, gently, tenderly, full of affection and silly little promises they were both too manly to voice. And he could well spend the rest of his life like this, cuddled up with Rodney in his arms, just kissing, except their position started to get really uncomfortable, and the scientist's knees had to be killing him, and he really, really had to ask.
"Rodney. What do we do now?" He didn't mean now, now, and Rodney, bless his genius brain, seemed to get that.
"I don't know. I yell at you a lot and you order me around, and at night we get to have lots and lots of sex?"
"I can do that."
"Good."
And they did just that..
~~~
Radek Zelenka prided himself to be a perceptive man, and he was yet to be proven otherwise. People tended not to notice him, which was just as well, because it meant that of all members of the Atlantis expedition, he was probably the most well informed.
So when Major Sheppard started hanging around the lab even more, and Rodney didn't yell at him as much as he could have done, Radek drew his own conclusions. And he could have won many bets and made a lot of money with what he thought he knew, but Rodney, irritating man as he could be, was Radek's friend, and it was probably bad form to doom your friend's romantic interest to a court martial, yes?
So when the announcement came that the department heads would go back to Earth and return with the Daedalus in four weeks' time, Radek just gave Rodney a list of the things he wanted and said, "You bring me back romantic DVDs to woo Elizabeth, and I will share the lube the botanists have been making when yours and the Major's runs out."
And enjoyed the spluttering.
~~~
End.