Work Text:
John never saw it coming.
Usually, that just meant that he was a little blindsided when one of the women they met off world hit on him, forcing him to roll out the well-practised apologetic smile that seemed to make his let-down a little easier to take.
It had never meant ruining a man’s career before.
It had never meant almost losing Ro- - someone important to him.
Private Donavan’s quarters were marine-neat, a place for everything and everything in its place. Including the one wall that was plastered, almost end to end, with pictures of Lt Colonel John Sheppard. Despite everything that had happened, John hadn’t truly believed it was all about him - not until he saw that wall.
John sat heavily on Private Donavan’s bed, staring at the pictures. There were hundreds of them, some were official Air Force portraits but most were candids, almost all taken when John was unaware. John knew from Lorne’s preliminary report that if he were to go into Private Donavan’s bathroom he would find a functioning dark room. Nobody had thought twice about the photographic equipment that the young marine had chosen as his personal items; why would they? No one could have guessed they would be used like this.
The more he looked at the pictures, the harder it was for John to accept that he could have been so blind. Some of the photographs dated back at least eight months, the neon pink cast that he’d been sporting on his wrist back then looking much tamer in the greyed out photographs on the wall. Donavan had only been on Atlantis for nine months so whatever John had done to make the kid fixate on him like this - it had been done fast.
“Of course you’re here. Why am I not surprised?”
John’s eyes snapped away from the wall of pictures to glare at Rodney. “Get your ass back to the infirmary, McKay.”
Rodney, as usual, ignored him. He came and sat down next to John instead.
“Rodney,” John began - his eyes drifting over the dressing that sat high on Rodney’s left temple. His voice must have been softer than he intended, letting out some of the worry that he’d felt when he’d seen Rodney’s limp form lying at the feet of one of his own men because Rodney looked at him, his mouth a crooked line and his eyes bewildered.
“I’m fine, John,” he said. “Carson gave me the all clear. He didn’t hit me all that hard you know.”
“You were unconscious,” John argued. “Bleeding and unconscious at his feet while he had a gun pointed at you because of - - because of me.”
John saw a muscle in Rodney’s twitch at that and he knew that he was right. He knew that Rodney blamed him. Good. He should blame him. Everyone should. John should have known that the kid had an unhealthy obsession with him. He was a Lt Colonel in the damn Air Force, he should have know the kid had been practically stalking him for the past eight months. He should have - -
“Enough.” Rodney’s harsh voice cut across John’s thoughts and it was only then that he realised he’d been speaking his thoughts out loud. “This,” Rodney waved his hand at the wall of photographs, “was not your fault.” Rodney stood and walked over to look at the pictures more closely. “He violated your privacy and it makes me so damn angry that it’s a damn good thing Caldwell has already removed him from the city. You didn’t ask for this. For any of it.”
Rodney ripped one of the photographs off the wall and looked at it. It was John in the infirmary, a tube down his throat, his skin ashen. It said a lot about the danger of their jobs that John couldn’t pinpoint which of the two times that had happened in the past eight months the picture was taken.
“This is obscene,” Rodney said quietly, crumpling the picture in his hand. “And before you go falling on your damn sword like the martyr you so desperately want to be, you didn’t do anything to encourage his attention so don’t even start. This was not your fault.”
John wanted to believe Rodney but it couldn’t be true. He must have done something. He must have because otherwise, it didn’t make sense. Why him? That was the crux of it. Maybe the smartest man in two galaxies could tell him.
Rodney answered with a sad smile. “Because you’re a good man. A good leader. You’re smart and brave and loyal and there’s nowhere that your men wouldn’t follow you. You never leave a man behind and you give us all hope that we can find a way through. And because Donavan was sick. His obsession with you was a symptom of that sickness and you - - you did nothing wrong.”
John shook his head. Bullshit. He had done something wrong. He had gotten Rodney hurt.
“That wasn’t you, you idiot. If you refuse to put the blame for that on the creepy stalker’s shoulders then you might as well blame me.”
“You?” John rolled his eyes. “Now who’s playing the martyr?”
Rodney turned back to look at the wall. “You really do never see it coming, do you?” he muttered. Rodney’s eyes searched the wall quickly and he started to pull picture after picture off, throwing them at John. “This one is from my labs, this was taken in the corridors we use to race cars, this is from the pier, this is from the last movie night when we spent the entire 90 minutes mocking everything and everyone. This is - - he was watching your every move, John. That meant that he saw the way I look at you, saw the way I feel about you and he knew - he - - “
This time it was Rodney who never saw it coming.
“Mmmmph - - “
John smiled as Rodney went from indignant to relaxed in the span of a kiss. John pulled him close, careful not to jolt him and took everything he had wanted to take for a hell of a lot longer than eight months.
John pulled back and rested his forehead against Rodney’s own, both of them breathing heavily. “If he was watching me, he saw the way I looked at you,” John whispered. “Saw the way I felt about you.”
“He - oh,” Rodney smiled. “Ok, so maybe it was your fault.”
John laughed, the first laugh he’d managed since this whole stalker thing had come to light.
“Wanna get out of here?”
“Away from the creepy wall of stalker photos? Hell yes. My room or yours?”
“I’m thinking neither. I’m also thinking that there’s no way in hell Carson really released you from the infirmary?”
Rodney flushed red which was answer enough.
“Ok, back we go buddy.”
“In my defence, I knew you’d be beating yourself up over this. I knew that if I didn’t find you and talk some sense into you then you’d be all angsty and martyry.”
“Is martyry even a word?”
“Sheppard-y then,” Rodney retorted.
“Rodney?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for finding me.”
“You’re welcome.”
John gently pushed Rodney out of Private Donavan’s room, away from the creepy wall of stalker pictures and into the corridor. He closed the door behind them without looking back.