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Chapter Text

The sky was blue and clear, almost crystalline in its perfection, only a few wispy clouds drifting across the mantle. The surface below was mostly water, perfectly reflecting the sky and the sun, with occasional islands and stacks of black rock, sprinkled with ivy and flowers that spilled down the sides like waterfalls.

It was stunning.

Like something from a dream.

The ship he flew was responsive, as if it could read his mind, with a silver hull that gleamed in the sunlight. All around, he could sense the other ships gliding in and out of the basalt islands, skimming over the waves, all acting like extensions of his own body.

He remembered sitting in a chair once, a beautiful chair that lit up at his touch, his mind and body melding into the workings like they were one. And from that chair he could see the whole sky, control hundreds of drones as they knocked down the enemy, over and over. This was like that, except…more.

These weren’t just weapons that he could direct, like smart bombs, these were his own cavalry. Every ship had its own controllable mind, an A.I. that listened and reacted to every thought, idea, impulse that he had.

“Pilot.”

“Here,” he said to the cosmos, since he wasn’t sure who it was behind the voice.

“Enemy ships approach, recommend delta omega attack plan, 10:00.”

He didn’t even have to move his head; his ship simply responded to the very idea of 10:00, putting him on an attack vector. Around him, the other ships he controlled flanked and took defensive positions, covering his six, like perfect soldiers.

Small black dots peppered the horizon—three of them. He wondered if they were manned or if these were drones.

Except, they weren’t Wraith Darts, his traditional enemy.

Were they even enemies?

Who were they?

He hesitated.

“Pilot. Your speed is decreasing. Why are you slowing down?”

“Base. Query. Who are they?”

“Pilot. Repeat query.”

“The enemy ships. Who are we fighting?”

“That is not relevant. They are the target. You must destroy them.”

“Why are they the target?”

“Follow your orders, Pilot. Take them down.”

He frowned. This wasn’t his first run, and these weren’t his first targets, but something about these felt different somehow.

“Pilot. Take them down. That’s an order.”

An order. He reacted. His ships sped up. He studied the targets, and in his head information on speed, size, maneuverability, weapons, defensive systems and shields spooled down like a feed on a computer.

Something.

Familiar.

“Base. Repeat Query. Who are they?” he asked again.

“They are the enemy. They intend to take you away. You are our only defense. Take them down.”

Only defense.

He could. He could do it. The shields were easily penetrated by his weapons systems, as if they weren’t designed to prevent being struck by his kind of ship. The cloaking technology would be visible with his sensors. And the weapons…

The weapons. They were…

Familiar.

Familiar. He knew those weapons.

“Base. Repeat Query. It is relevant. I need to know. Who are they?”

“Pilot, Query denied. Orders are clear. Take them down.”

He felt something metallic in his mouth. Adrenalin. His muscles tensed and clenched. His nerves spasmed, sending pain up and down his legs, and up down his arms, up and down his neck.

Familiar. They were familiar.

“Base.” He said roughly. “Who. Are. They.”

“Query Denied.”

“Who are they?” he shouted. He’d never shouted before. The ships surrounding him stuttered, he felt the hesitation in the A.I.’s he governed. His ship all but braked in mid-air, forward thrusters on maximum. “Who are they?”

“Pilot. Obey. This is not—”

“Sheppard!”

John felt it like a stab to his heart. That voice.

“Sheppard, can you hear me?”

He knew that voice. Knew it like the back of his hand. It was the voice that always answered his questions. Was always there for him. Familiar.

“Query.” He responded. “Who are you?”

“Did you just say…? Never mind. You know who I am! We’ve come to rescue you!”

Rescue me? And, interestingly, the three ships on his screen slowed to a stop. They did not attack him or his ships. They just floated above the ocean, just as he and his ships floated above the ocean. One was a brown box. The other two were gunmetal gray and sleek, but much less efficient.

“What?” He called for information. “What are you?” The screen in his head was blank.

“Sheppard, listen to me. You were kidnapped three months ago. I’m so, so sorry it’s taken us this long to find you. Those goddamned little gray rogue bastards, it took us a while to figure out how they…It’s not important! We’re here! We found you!”

“Found me?”

That voice. He trusted it. He…He…It was more than familiar. It was a voice that made him feel happy.

“Sheppard! Listen, we need to know which ship you’re on! Is it…oh, never mind. It’s that one.”

“Are you sure, sir?” a different voice this time, lower.

“Of course it’s him. It’s the leader. Look at it. The others are all swirling around it.”

“He is correct,” another voice said, a woman. He knew her voice too. “That has to be him. Plus, it is larger than the others, and is the only one with what appears to be a cockpit.”

“Pilot. Take down the targets.”

Sheppard frowned. He’d forgotten about Base.

“Oh no you don’t,” Rodney said. “He’s not taking down anyone! Sheppard, can you shut them out?”

Yes. That was right. The voice. It was Rodney.

“Rodney?”

“Yes! Who did you think this was, the Easter Bunny? Can you shut off the Evil Asgard feed on your end?”

Evil Asgard?

“I don’t…” He struggled, trying to call for more information, for more help, but the ship didn’t know what he wanted. “I don’t understand.”

“They have done something to him,” the woman said. “To his mind.”

“Ya think?” Rodney snapped. “Sheppard, listen to me, I need you to lower your shields. Can you do that?”

“Negative. Cannot compromise mission.”

“Your mission is probably to kill us, your rescue party. So, compromising your mission seems like a good thing to me!”

“Pilot. Respond.”

“Ah! They’ve gotten around my block! Damn it!”

“Pilot. Abort Mission. Return to Base.”

“Can you not simply cut their radio transmission?” The woman.

“Not from here! I can only dampen their stupid frequency. Which I thought I had, but those sneaky little--”

“We should have taken out their stupid outpost first.” This was another voice, much lower than the others, and much more gruff.

“And risked them whisking him away before we could talk to him?”

“They couldn’t have whisked him away if they were dead.”

“You’re assuming that they were all in that outpost and not—”

“Ronon! Rodney, this is not the time.”

Ronon. Rodney.

Teyla.

“Teyla,” he said out loud.

“Yes!” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “Yes. It is us! We are here for you.”

“Query. Why?”

“Why?” Rodney’s voice had lifted to almost ear-piercing levels. “Are you kidding? You were kidnapped! They stole you! We are taking you home!”

“Do you not remember?” Teyla asked.

No. He did not. He didn’t remember…much of anything. He’d just been Pilot.

“Then we’ll remind you,” Ronon said.

“Please,” Teyla said. “Lower your shields.”

“Pilot,” Base called. “We are sending reinforcements. Stand by.”

“Damn it,” Rodney swore. “Sheppard! You need to trust us! Please!”

“Sir, if he can’t remember—”

“You know what?” Rodney snapped. “You don’t get to talk. You just fly. What’s your name again? Medgar? Merkel?”

“Messing, sir.”

“Right. Messing. Shut up. Sheppard! One last chance, or I’m forcing those shields open, you hear me? We are not leaving you behind, so lower those damn shields and—”

“Incoming!” Messing yelled.

Sheppard jumped as countermeasures exploded all around his ship. He banked away, pulling hard to steepen the angle, even as his sensors went crazy. Around him, his other ships spread out, and two went straight up, seeking clarity above the fray.

“Base!” he shouted. “What are you doing!”

“Taking control, Pilot. You have been compromised.”

And in that moment, he felt it happen, like having a weight taken off his shoulders. Control of his ship was pulled away, control over the other ships was cut off completely, and he could feel the hands of another sending new orders into his ship’s navigation and…and weapons.

“No!”

“Sheppard! Please!” Rodney’s voice broke through the clatter, even as he lost sight of the puddle jumper and the F-302s, and…

Puddle Jumper. F-302s.

Atlantis.

Sheppard exerted his last bit of control, existing now just on the edges of total failure, to lower the shield, right before it was entirely yanked away.

“Shield is down!” he shouted.

“Caldwell! Now!”

Somewhere outside Sheppard’s vision, a massive burst of bright light filled the cockpit. Then there was a gasp, and something pressing down on his shoulder. He couldn’t see him. Why couldn’t he see him?

“Oh my god, what did they do to you?”

“Rodney?” he asked. “I can’t…” See you. Feel you. “I can’t control the ship anymore. They’re in control and they’re going to steer us away if—"

“Yes. Right. Sorry. Hang on.” He heard a click. “Teyla, Ronon, get out of here. I’ve got him. Take care of whatever is shooting at you while I get him free.”

And something was shooting at the jumper and the F302s. Sheppard could feel it now. He’d had his access to the sensors taken away, and his visual was down, but he could hear the booming of explosions. His ship…their ship…rocked with the force of them as it picked up speed to take them away. He climbed, climbed, climbed, the ship flying almost straight up as Rodney yammered away behind him.

“Right, right…Here we go…There!”

Sheppard felt the engine cut out.

“Try to fly this thing away without power, you assholes!”

The ship’s momentum quickly faded, and then lurched as it started to fall.

“Um…Rodney?”

“Yes, yes, I know! Hang on, I’ve almost…. Reroute, you son of a bitch! Re-route!”

And just like that, the power was back, and so was his control. It flooded through him like hot water, and he relished in it for a moment before stopping their terrible dive of death. At the same time, visuals came back, and he saw the puddle jumper skimming around rocks and the two F-302s flanking, chased by four of his silver ships. Those silver ships had been his fleet—the A.I. run ships he’d trained, with whom he’d been flying in sync but were now controlled by….by…

“The lost Asgard tribe,” he said slowly. He started to remember. The kidnapping. They’d forced him into a device, a sort of cocoon, and the next thing he knew… “They made me the pilot for their attack ships. Put me in some sort of…I don’t know what it is…so I could control them better.”

“Yes,” Rodney said, somewhere behind him. He still couldn’t see him. He still couldn’t turn his head. “It’s…not pretty.”

“What’s not pretty? What’s wrong?” As he spoke, he directed his ship to chase after the four A.I. ships chasing his friends. Where were the other two ships from his fleet? They’d gone up….

“I’m…yes…okay, I see,” Rodney said. “It’s a hybridized version of a Wraith ship, an Ancient ship and, I’m guessing, an Asgard ship. Stupid pet rocks everywhere pretending to be controls. They’ve…” he trailed off, and Sheppard realized he could hear rapid typing. Then, “Damn, they’re so obnoxious. Nothing here is new tech, other than what is clearly Janus’ psychic link device from the Ice Giant. It just looks shiny. Are they that incapable of innovation? No wonder they needed you!”

“McKay,” he warned.

“Just keep flying, I need a minute. What a mess. Of course, clone brains would think this was clever and not utterly ludicrous…”

Sheppard grimaced, but he zeroed in on the target and vaporized one of the silver ships with a thought and what he knew now was an Ancient drone. The F-302 that the A.I. ship had been chasing instantly went to support the other F-302 and the bandit on its tail, and Sheppard took off after the two ships that were trying to run down the puddle jumper.

The A.I.’s controlling the other ships had learned from him, and they were smart. They knew his tricks, his methods. He just had to--

A drone from one of the silver ships slammed into the jumper, taking out one of the drive pods. Sheppard’s rage took over as he unleashed four separate weapons into the silver hull—it never stood a chance.

“Sheppard, was that you?” Ronon asked.

“Who else?” he asked. “You guys missed me, eh?”

“We’ll miss you less if you can take out the other ship,” Ronon threw back, amusement in his tone.

“Always so demanding,” Sheppard replied, banking his ship after the remaining silver ship. It reacted by blasting its forward thrusters, skidding to a near snail’s pace as Sheppard shot past it. “Damn it!” he snarled. “That’s my move!”

He instantly pulled up, not losing any forward momentum as he ascended and began a loop de loop, ensuring he was in a whole different place as the A.I. ship shot missiles at where he had been a second before. Rookie move. The assumption the A.I. would make is that he would slow, not maintain speed and change trajectory. As he came down, the A.I. ship had realized its mistake and was coming at him, but Sheppard was already two steps ahead, firing into the A.I. ship’s nose and sides and….

He smiled as it went boom.

“Ugh,” Rodney muttered, sounding ill. “This thing’s inertial dampeners are not the best. I think I lost my stomach, kidneys and possibly my spleen back there. What was that? A loop de loop?”

“Hang on,” Sheppard said.

“Hang on?” McKay said weakly, “Again? What could be worse than…oh god.”

Sheppard dove under the ocean—he’d been facing that way anyway—and put on a new burst of speed as he sliced through the water like a shark, aiming for the last ship chasing the F-302.

“Rodney, John,” Teyla said over the radio, “if you can hear us, we are heading back to the Daedalus. We have taken damage, and Sergeant Messing is not confident how much farther Jumper 2 can go. Will you be alright?”

“Negative,” Caldwell’s voice interjected. “Take the Stargate back to Atlantis, Jumper 2. We’re under attack up here. Three rogue Asgard ships and the two silver ships that had been with Sheppard are firing on our position. F-302’s, radio me when you’re in range and we’ll bring you in.”

Sheppard heard the echoing calls of confirmation as he exploded out of the water right behind the last A.I. ship chasing the F-302s down. A mental press of a button, and the last A.I. ship exploded just inches from his hull.

“Colonel,” Sheppard said, “we’re coming to assist.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Um…” Rodney began.

“What?” Sheppard snapped, already accelerating to exit the atmosphere of the planet. The two F-302s on his heels. The Jumper, he knew, was heading for the planet’s Stargate—he could sense them just on the edge of his range. They were almost home.

“You can’t go up there.”

“Why not?”

“Because…there’s water in here.”

“What?”

“Your ship isn’t airtight.”

“I’ve been in space in this before.”

“That’s because…you’ll be fine. You’re…protected. I’m, uh…I’m not.”

“Explain. Now!”

“You remember when Keller was being turned into a Wraith ship? How she was completely enmeshed inside all those Wraith cords and bindings?”

Sheppard’s stomach fell. “What?”

“It’s like that. You’re sitting there in a chair, at least, I think you’re in a chair, but your entire body is cocooned inside Wraith tech, like you’re surrounded by a million red vines, and the vines are connected into different parts of the ship. All except your face, which I can see through a sort of round yellow shield, like the gold plated visor in the helmet of a space suit. So, um…I think…you’ll be fine. But me? Not so much.”

Sheppard gritted his teeth.

“Caldwell,” he said gruffly. “I can’t…we can’t assist. McKay will die if I leave the atmosphere.”

“Then we’ll beam him out,” Caldwell replied.

“No!” Rodney said. “If you do that, I won’t be able to keep dampening their control over him! I need to stay here, get him free. I may not have another chance!”

“Can we beam Sheppard out as well?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if that might kill him. He’s sort of…” McKay hesitated. “…intertwined with the ship. Wraith tech.”

“Wraith…?” There was a long pause, then Caldwell growled, “Fine. Do what you can. We’ll stay as long as we can, but our shields are already down to 50%.”

“The silver ships are flown by A.I., Colonel, if that helps,” Sheppard said.

“It might. Caldwell out.”

Sheppard slowed down, leveling out as the two F-302s jetted past, heading up to aid the Daedalus. The problem was, Sheppard knew his ship couldn’t go through the Stargate. It was just too large. Without the Daedalus, there was no way he could get both McKay and this ship back to Atlantis.

If he even wanted this ship. The memory of what Keller looked like when he’d found her, utterly encased in those writhing, blood red sinewy cords made him shudder. Except…except he could think. He was still himself, right? Keller’s mind was being taken over, but he was still himself. Wasn’t he?

Stop. Focus. McKay is with you. He’ll fix this. Of course, Carson was the one who fixed it last time, and Carson wasn’t here, so….

“Rodney?”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Saving you.”

“I…Can I have a little more information please?”

He heard Rodney sigh. “Yes. Sorry. Look, near as I can tell, this Wraith tech isn’t growing out of you like it was with Keller. It’s attached to you, like a bunch of IVs, but it’s not sentient or anything. There’s no Wraith mind driving it. You’re driving it. It’s connecting you to the rest of this ship, which is, as I said, a mix of Asgard and Ancient.”

Sheppard tried not to shake too badly. He remembered how scared Keller was. He understood why now.

“I think,” Rodney continued, “that they…they took you because they didn’t just need an excellent pilot with extensive combat experience, but someone with the gene. They’ve somehow managed to create a ship that has the gene operated weapons and controls, but with Wraith tech, you’re not just flying the ship, you are the ship. I mean, tell me, you can see all around the ship, can’t you? Not just out of a viewscreen?”

Sheppard frowned. Yes. It was true.

“And the information from all the sensors, the weapons, it’s all in your mind, right? You’re not seeing a HUD or anything.”

“I…” He thought about when he called up information. It was like seeing a HUD, but… “sort of?”

“Your eyes aren’t open,” McKay said weakly. “Whatever you see, it’s in your mind.”

Jesus Christ.

“Rodney…” He didn’t hide the fear in his voice as he spoke. Flying was supposed to be freedom. This was not freedom. This was a prison. He was imprisoned inside this ship! “Rodney, I can’t…you have to get me out.”

“I’m working on it. I just need time to figure out how to release you from that thing you’re in. I’m sure there are manual controls on this ship somewhere – I can see the Asgard design – and no one makes a ship without manual controls, still…maybe you should see about landing us somewhere? Maybe near the Stargate?”

“It doesn’t land. I’ve never landed it. I’ve…I just fly and blow things up.”

“Well, that’s just great.”

“Rodney, I…oh…oh crap…”

He could feel them again. In the back of his mind, trying to make connection. It was like the sensation of cold, creeping down his neck, into his spine….

“What’s wrong?” Rodney asked. “I can see your heart elevating and your breathing is faster.”

“It’s them. They’re…they’re trying to take control again.”

“What? No, I shut down the communications! They can’t…oh.”

“Oh?”

“They’re not using their communication system. They’ve bypassed that and are using the Wraith technology somehow.”

“That…” Sheppard winced. “That makes sense. They’re not talking to me so much as…” The cold was getting worse, it felt like it was numbing him all over. “Rodney, I can’t….”

“I need more information. What does it feel like?”

“You know when doctors…when they push anesthetic into an IV in your arm? It feels cold, then it starts to hurt, and your arm feels like it’s on fire? Like that. Except. Everywhere. Oh god. God! Rodney!”

“Fight it! I’m working to cut them off by shutting down Janus’ device but you have to fight it! Stay with me!”

“How?”

“Pilot.” The voice rang through his head like a clarion call. They might as well have said kneel. “Pilot. You have been contaminated. Return to Base.”

“Rodney! They’re in my head!”

He could already feel his traitorous body changing course, and the ship started to climb.

“Block them out! Don’t listen! They still need your brain for this ship to work!”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can! Just focus on me! On my voice!”

“Pilot. Return to Base. Hyperdrive coordinates are being entered into the system.”

“Rodney, please! They want me to hyperdrive back to their Base, that means leaving the atmosphere, and I can’t…I can’t…”

“Sheppard, listen to me! I’m the only one that matters right now, you understand? You have to listen to me and me alone!”

“Pilot. You have been contaminated. Return to Base.”

It would be so easy. If he just did what he was told…

“Since when do you do what you’re told!” Rodney snapped, and Sheppard almost flinched at the anger in his voice.

“Rodney, they—”

“No! You are Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, my best friend and the biggest rule breaker in two galaxies! You have black marks in your record from at least two wars! You defied Elizabeth! You’ve defied Carter and Woolsey! More than once! You’re telling me you can’t do that now? Doing what you’re ordered will kill me! Fight it!”

“How!”

“Think of something other than flying!”

“What?”

“You heard me! Anything!”

“I don’t—"

“What is 20 times 530?”

“What?”

“You heard me! 20 times 530?”

“10,600. Why? Why do you—”

“17 times 506?”

“8,602. What—”

“Square root of 196?”

“14.”

“225?”

“15.”

“169?”

“13. Rodney, what--?”

“I need the square root of 1,681 plus seven, divided by 6!”

“Um…uh…8?”

“Yes!” Rodney sounded winded, like he was struggling to breathe. “Now take the ship back down! Now! Please!”

“Descending.” He executed the turn, banking and descending. The liquid in his arms shivered, trying to reassert itself.

“Pilot. You are going against orders.”

“Rodney,” he whispered, “they’re…they’re still in my head.”

“No,” Rodney said, “they’re not. God…I don’t want to, but needs must and…eeeeuuwwww….”

Sheppard jumped as he felt something touch his hand, then that something tightened around it, gripping his fingers.

“There! This is crazy gross, but can you feel that?” Rodney asked. “I pushed through the Wraith strands. That’s my hand. Can you feel my hand?”

Sheppard gasped slightly, and tried to turn his hand so he could grip back.

“It’s okay,” Rodney said. “You don’t have to move, just—”

“I can feel it,” John said.

“Good. That’s good.” Rodney sounded so relieved. “Now listen to me. I’ve got you, okay? You know me. How many times have I saved your ass now?”

“Um…” John smiled slightly. “A lot?”

“Exactly! A lot. You save me, I save you, that’s how we roll. And right now, it’s my turn.”

“But—”

“No. This is nothing. This? All this stuff? As scary and strange as it all is, It’s still just technology. And technology is my bitch.”

John huffed a laugh, he couldn’t help it. Even if true, Rodney sounded like such an idiot when he said stuff like that.

“I’m getting you free,” Rodney continued, “then I’m going to make those little bastards pay for what they did to you by blowing up all their ships. Then? Then we’re going home, drinking lots of beer, and passing out on the pier. Got it?”

“Rodney, I—”

“No. You’re not arguing. You fly this ship until we’re near the Stargate and…I don’t know, hover next to it or something. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“But how can you--?”

“Because it’s me. I’m here. I’m saving you.” The hand on his squeezed tightly. “I’ll always save you, understand?”

John gave a brittle smile. “Because you’d do anything for me?”

“Yes.” His voice softened. “Anything. Anything you want.”

John had to smile. “Okay.”

“Okay. Okay! Now, tell me about Doug Flutie.”

John frowned. Seriously? “What? Why?”

“I need to take my hand out of this…yuck…stuff, but I’m not going anywhere. I just need my hands free while you do the flying part, okay? So, tell me about Flutie. What happened to him after he was at BU.”

“You really—?”

“Do you want me to start talking about hockey instead? Because I can.”

“I do actually like hockey, you know.” John grinned. “I mean, it’s not as great as football—”

“Sure, whatever. I asked you a question. Tell me about Flutie. Where did he go?”

John sighed, but as he felt Rodney release his hand—and wow, he immediately really missed Rodney’s hand—he started to talk.

“First,” he said, “Flutie was at BC, not BU.”

“Like that matters.”

“It matters!”

“Oh, come on! Boston has a million colleges. Half that town is made up of idiot twenty somethings for that reason. I got two colleges mixed up; does it really matter which?”

“Would you mix up Harvard and MIT?”

“Please, apples and oranges.”

“Apples and…do you hear yourself, McKay?”

“No one mixes up Harvard and MIT with anything else or each other! They’re Harvard and MIT.”

“Wow. Seriously. Wow. Do you hear yourself? Snob much?”

Rodney sighed heavily. “Fine. Whatever. Keep going.”

“After Boston College, which is a great school by the way, Flutie started with the short lived USFL before joining the NFL. He was bounced around for a while, from Chicago to the Pats, and then the Bills, I think. Or maybe it was the other way around. He went to San Diego for a minute too. Then he played for Canada—”

“I’m sorry, what? Did you just say--”

“Yeah. The Canadian Football League.”

“You’re joking. Canada had a football league?”

“It still does! How are you Canadian and not know this? It was a big deal!”

“Football is not my thing.”

“Clearly. I—oh shit…” The cold was back, flowing into him. It hurt more this time, like every muscle was burning. He groaned, unable to hide how much pain it was causing. “Rodney, they’re trying again—"

“I’m almost there.”

“It’s…they’re…Oh god, it hurts!”

“Just a little longer. If I do this too early, we’ll…”

“Rodney!” He cried out in agony as the pain overwhelmed everything, as horrible as that first moment Todd had pressed his hand into his chest all those years ago. “Help me!”

“I—”

The pain deepened, and John screamed.

“There!”

The pain faded abruptly, the cold in his veins disappearing, and a different sort of cold touched him as, for the first time in a very long time, he recognized the feeling of fresh, cold air touching his skin.

He lost things then. The sense of the wind rushing against the hull, the view of water and islands he’d been directing them towards, the information pooling through his head about air pressure, navigation, temperature…

He gasped and felt like throwing up, drawing in deep lungfuls of metallic and earthy air to fill what felt like starved lungs.

As he came back to himself, it was Rodney’s chattering in the background that he understood first.

“Told you technology was my bitch! Asgardian superior intellect my ass! Canadian genius wins every time!”

“Rodney?” He felt adrift. Confused. Something was missing. He couldn’t see. “Rodney, where…what is happening?”

Suddenly, there were hands on his. Real hands, warm and strong, gripping his palms tightly.

“It’s alright. It’s okay. I got you, remember? I got you.”

John shook his head. “I can’t—"

“Open your eyes,” Rodney said, his voice rough.

“What?”

“Your eyes, open them. Come on. I know you can do it. Please.”

“I can’t…”

“Please! I need to see you. I mean, for you to see. Open them. Please!”

Weirdly, it felt…difficult. Like someone had been pressing down anvils on his lids. He could feel his skin almost fighting him, and his eyes felt like they were burning as he…slowly…forced them open.

The first thing he saw was Rodney. Stupid, wonderful, insane, magnificent Rodney McKay, looking down at him with wide open eyes full of worry and…and so much more.

“Can you see me?” Rodney asked.

John fell into those blue eyes.

“I can see you.” He wanted, in that moment, to tell Rodney how beautiful he was. Just perfectly Rodney with his receding hair, crooked mouth, reddened nose – he was everything.

“Oh, thank god. How about moving? Can you move?”

He didn’t want to. He just wanted to breathe and to look at Rodney with his own eyes.

Then he realized something was beeping. Somewhat insistingly.

“What’s beeping?” he asked, frowning as he finally looked around.

He became aware that he was sitting in a metal chair wearing some sort of beige, stained jumpsuit. All around him, but thankfully not touching him, were thousands of strands of Wraith…whatever it was. Blood-colored cords. They were sort of hovering, alive and dripping a disgusting, viscous fluid, all creepy and just out of reach, as if with a word they could enclose around him and the chair once more. The strands extended like a starfish arms away from the chair, attached to the ship’s ceiling, floor and walls at different points. The rest of the ship was as Rodney described – bits of familiar Ancient tech interspersed with some Wraith console screens and what had to be Asgardian control panels. A number of the screens and consoles were flashing angrily, the beeping getting more intense.

“Can you stand?” Rodney asked.

“What’s beeping?”

“Oh, that? That’s, um…yeah, we’re crashing. The inertial dampeners – which I jacked up because you were making me sick earlier – are sort of hiding it, but I’m pretty sure we might be plummeting a bit. I’m not sure how much time we have. Might not be much.”

“Rodney!”

“You were in pain! I couldn’t wait until we were closer to the ground! You were screaming!”

“We’ll both be screaming in a minute as we crash into that ocean!”

“I’m not saying sorry for freeing you!”

“Well thank you, but now you have to stop us from dying!”

Rodney glared at him, then bounced away, to where he had apparently jacked his laptop into one of the panels. Then he was hitting buttons and moving—yes, okay, they did kind of look like pet rocks--over one of the panels next to his laptop.

“There have to be manual controls here somewhere,” Rodney was saying as he fumbled around. “No one builds a ship to run entirely on one system, especially a human being that could die….”

Somehow, Sheppard managed to stand while Rodney scrambled. His legs were shaking, like he’d not used them in a very long time. He realized then how thin he was – his legs, arms…He looked emaciated. He lifted his hands to his face, and felt at the hollows of his cheeks, so much more prominent than they should be. How long had he been in that thing?

“Here! I found it!” Rodney was still bouncing, and as he shouted, a panel in the middle of the hybrid control systems opened up to reveal what was very clearly a set of joystick controls. Rodney turned and stared at John.

“Right,” Sheppard said. He took a step and nearly collapsed. Rodney was immediately there, getting his arms under him and hauling him forward. Sheppard growled at him a little, but didn’t deny the help as they reached the panel. Rodney stayed right behind him, hands around his waist, holding him upright.

Gingerly, Sheppard put his hands on the controls, and, immediately, a HUD opened up in front of him, showing them what was happening. Oh god. Just a few hundred more feet, and they’d slam into the ocean like a bomb.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered, hauling back on the joysticks with Rodney’s help. Even despite the “jacked up” inertial dampeners, he could feel the ship reluctantly responding, pulling up as the forward thrusters slowed their descent and the wings shifted to accommodate the abrupt change in altitude and trajectory. His weakened arms shook as he continued to pull back, forcing the ship to respond and level out just a few feet above the water. In his head, he imagined the silver ship’s thrusters creating a furrow through the ocean water, sending sprays of mist and white capped waves cascading away like Moses parting the Red Sea. Or, at least, denting it.

But he couldn’t actually see anything. It was all HUD information on a plastic screen – distances and obstacles and math.

“Is there a viewscreen?” he asked roughly. Rodney hesitated, as if afraid to let him go. Sheppard looked at him over his shoulder. “I’m alright. I can stand on my own. See if there’s a viewscreen or a window. I’ll do better if I can see what’s coming with my own eyes.”

Rodney’s ashen face nodded quickly and, with clear reluctance, loosened his arms from around Sheppard’s waist.

John pretended he didn’t miss them.

“Okay, okay,” Rodney said, already back in front of his laptop. Sheppard continued to use the information on the HUD to avoid what it was telling him were obstacles. Were they the stacks of black rock? Were they islands? And which way was the Stargate?

Because he really wanted to land this thing and get the hell out!

And what was that horrible, rancid smell? It…. Oh. It was him. Ergh.

“Colonel Sheppard? McKay?” Caldwell called.

“Colonel!” Sheppard answered. “Good to hear your voice!”

“Not so good. Shields are down to 10%. We can’t wait any longer. If we don’t hyperdrive out of here right now, we’ll lose the Daedalus. We think we have just enough power to drop the shields, beam you two out, and get the hell out of here.”

“Actually,” Sheppard said, “I think that might be a good—”

“Not yet,” Rodney said, and he was back to furiously typing. “Can you divert power from anywhere else to the shields? I need more time.”

“Time for what?”

“To teach these jerks not to take our people,” Rodney replied. There was no inflection in his tone—he said it with the same kind of cold rage that Sheppard had felt earlier, when he’d blown up the ship that had damaged the puddle jumper. He risked a glance at his friend. Rodney didn’t look up, his eyes fixated on his screen.

Caldwell must have heard it as well. “How long do you need?”

“Not long.”

“Can you be more specific.”

“What is with you military types and your need for exact numbers? Give me two minutes.”

“That means five,” Sheppard said. He could almost hear Caldwell grinding his teeth over the comm.

“I’ll give you three, McKay, then we’re jumping with or without you.”

“The viewscreen is the crystal on your left,” McKay said then, glancing quickly at Sheppard, before focusing back on his screen. His fingers were sprinting over the keys, faster than Sheppard had ever heard him type.

Sheppard hit the crystal, and above him the metal shield covering the cockpit window rolled back, revealing a perfect blue sky, ocean, small islands and black sea stacks. Immediately, the information on the HUD made more sense as Sheppard started to bank around the stacks of black rock, watching as vegetation puffed and exhaled as he sailed by.

Then the HUD showed him something else. There were ships incoming. Two of them. The last two silver ships from his former “fleet.” The Asgard must have sent them down after him, once they realized he was no longer attached to the ship.

“We are about to have two bandits on our tail, McKay. You might want to hurry up unless you know where the weapon controls are.”

“They made three very bad mistakes, see,” McKay said, his voice low and cold as he typed furiously into his laptop. “First, they took you. No one takes you. You are Atlantis. Taking you is like taking the beating heart of everything we are. There was no way in hell we would ever let that stand. There was no way I was letting that stand.

“The second mistake? Combining the three technologies that I know better than anyone alive—except maybe Carter. Actually, no. Even Carter. Oh, sure, took me a few minutes to figure out how they did it once I was on board. But I did. And I figured it out while dizzy from your acrobatics in the middle of a dogfight, nearly suffocating when we skimmed the edge of the atmosphere, listening to you screaming in pain as they tried to steal you from me, and as we plummeted to our deaths. But I did. I figured it out.”

“Rodney, time…”

“And the third mistake?” Rodney snarled. “Their third mistake was connecting all these ships to your brain…meaning this ship. Oh yes.” His lips curled up into an ugly smile as he continued to type. “Three very bad, very stupid mistakes….”

“Rodney,” Sheppard said, looking at the HUD, showing the ships entering weapons range. “I need weapons, where—”

“No need,” Rodney finished, hitting a key and lifting his fingers from the laptop. “Suck it, you Asgardian Assholes.”

Sheppard’s mouth dropped as the two ships on the screen disappeared in a flash of sensor chaos. A millisecond later, their ship shook from the sonic booms. Almost unconsciously, he swung the ship up higher in the sky and turned, so he could see the flaming remains of what was left plummeting down and into the sea.

And up in the sky, he could see more explosions, flashes of light above the atmosphere like brief meteor showers.

“Sheppard? McKay?” Caldwell’s voice called. “The…the Asgard ships firing on us all just exploded. Was that you?”

“That was me,” McKay said proudly, stepping back from his laptop, grinning. “I sent every Asgardian ship in range and communicating on the frequencies they were using self-destruct orders. With any luck, it took out more than just the ships here.”

“Well, damn,” Caldwell said. “Nice job. That was pretty genius.” He paused. “And Colonel Sheppard? Are you alright?”

John was staring at McKay, barely paying attention as he flew his ship through the clear blue skies. Rodney was looking back, expression smug. He was very pleased with himself, and, for once, John could not fault it at all.

And his heart skipped a little.

“I’m good,” he said, in response to Caldwell’s question. “We’re good.”

“Alright then. Unfortunately, we can’t beam you out just now, as we’re low on power, but—”

“Wait, what?” McKay said, smugness vanishing instantly as he uncrossed his arms. “You can’t beam us out?”

“Not right now. Can you land that—”

“No, uh, see, you don’t understand.” McKay’s expression was worried, and Sheppard’s eyes narrowed.

“McKay?” he said.

“Well, see, I didn’t really have time to avoid including this ship—the origin ship—in the self-destruct order, what with the failing shields and the incoming bandits and all that. All I could do was delay it.”

“Delay it,” Sheppard repeated. “For how long?”

“Um…” McKay looked at his wrist, realized his watch was not the right thing to look at, and quickly grabbed the laptop. A few keystrokes later, and his face paled slightly. “Um…I think we have a little over two minutes left? You know, give or take a second or two…”

“McKay!” Sheppard berated.

“Any chance you can get the beam technology up in two minutes?” McKay asked the air.

“No. You’re going to have to land that ship,” Caldwell replied.

“But Sheppard said we can’t—”

“Controlled crash it is,” Sheppard said, returning to the controls.

“But—” McKay began.

“You saved my life,” he replied with a smirk, “getting me out of that thing. Now it’s my turn.” He winked at Rodney. “Just hang on to something.”

Chapter Text

It was likely only seconds, but it felt like hours as they huddled behind the large boulders on the beach. Rodney’s arms were around him, the other man having all but carried his weakened body over to this location as they’d scrambled away from the crashed ship. Even John’s heart seemed to be beating in slow motion as Rodney crouched over him, his tac vest their best protection, while different parts of the self-destructing ship exploded and ruptured and exploded again barely fifty feet away...

John breathed, waiting, knowing it couldn’t last forever.

Eventually, the flaming bits of metal stopped raining down around them, and the ringing in his ears from the thunderous booming faded, convincing John to risk raising his head. The boulders had been a good choice – other than a few scraps of metal, they’d been spared the worst of it, and the beach around them was generally clear of debris. The rest was a mess.

Rodney groaned and fell away, pressing a hand to the back of his neck.

“You okay?” John asked.

“No,” Rodney said with a soft whimper. He pulled his hand back, then showed John the blood on his fingers. “Not really.”

John knelt up and Rodney turned so John could inspect the back of his head. There was blood knotting up the thick, short hair near the base of his skull, but it didn’t appear to still be bleeding.

“Looks like you got knocked, but I don’t think it’s too bad,” John said. There were also bits of metal embedded in the back of Rodney’s vest, along with some smoking holes, though it looked like it had done its job to protect them both. “You should take off the vest.”

“It does smell a bit smoldery,” Rodney admitted tiredly, unzipping and pulling it off. He dumped it next to the boulder and then sat down heavily, bare arms dangling over his drawn up knees. They were nice arms, John noticed. Thick and corded. The black t-shirt really looked good on him. His arms, his hands....

He was noticing a lot of things, he realized. And that wasn’t all he was realizing.

He knew with absolute certainty that he no longer wanted to fight whatever it was that he and Rodney were. Rodney hadn’t just saved his life today; he’d saved all of him, body, mind and soul.

And when he’d opened his eyes on the ship to see Rodney standing in front of him, his first sensation, his first feeling, had been one of pure joy. Not just because he’d been freed, or that the pain was over, but because he was looking up at Rodney. It was always Rodney. Rodney who would do anything for him. Rodney who would always save him. Rodney who would never leave him.

And, without a doubt, he would do the same in return.

Because without Rodney, he was fine. With Rodney—how had Ronon put it?—with Rodney he had more. And more was so much better than fine. That feeling of pure joy? Who wouldn’t want that?

And time wasn’t going to ever change that. So why was he wasting it?

With a contented sigh, he settled down next to Rodney, sitting against the boulder, close enough so their hips were touching, and imitated the way Rodney was sitting. Rodney’s eyes were closed, but John found he wasn’t tired. He also couldn't take his eyes off of him.

“How you doing?” John asked. He touched a gentle hand to Rodney’s nape, feeling the softness of the hairs there below the cut. “I think the bleeding has stopped.”

“You’d think I’d get used to this sort of thing by now. It’s a wonder I still have any brains in my head at all. But, yes, headache. Bad.”

John just smiled, drawing his hand away reluctantly. He really couldn’t shake just how stupidly happy he was to see him.

“How are you?” Rodney asked then, cracking an eyelid. “Really?”

“Surprisingly good.”

“Yes, well, you smell like a burnt yak,” Rodney said unkindly, rubbing at his forehead. “Just so you know.”

John smirked. “Why would you know what a burnt yak smells like?”

“P31-517.”

John gave a questioning eyebrow. For all he loved numbers, he did lose track of all the planets and moons they visited. Rodney cracked an eye, saw the eyebrow, and sighed.

“The one with the summer celebration like a Hawaiian luau? Ronon married the priestess’s daughter by mistake?”

John instantly barked a laugh. Of course! Oh, that…that had been priceless. Apparently, Ronon’s silence when asked a question about betrothal had been a sign of assent. And his further silence when asked other similar questions had resulted in a wedding celebration that had taken Teyla hours to unscramble.

And, yes, there had been a large yak-like creature that they’d been cooking for the party, but, during the delay (after things went south), it had gotten very, very burnt. The smell had been horrific.

“That’s what I smell like?”

“Actually, worse.”

Rodney’s eyes had closed again, his head falling down to his chest in clear exhaustion. Or maybe the head wound.

“You should stay awake,” John said then, nudging his shoulder. He really was wide awake. It felt like he’d just woken up after a long slumber and he felt unexpectedly alert and ready for whatever may come.

Rodney hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t open his eyes, so John knocked his shoulder a little harder this time. Rodney turned his head to glare at him. John just smiled goofily.

“Are you high or something?” Rodney asked then. He looked suddenly more awake. “Oh, god, maybe there’s still some of that goop in you and—”

“I feel fine.”

“You say that,” Rodney said, pointing a finger at him, “but you have no idea what that stuff was. You could have some sort of heroin like substance burning through you and—”

“I’m not high.”

“But you’re…” Rodney’s eyes crinkled in worry. “You’re smiling at me.”

“Because I’m happy, Rodney.”

“Precisely! Before all this…” He waved a hand around. “Before you got taken, you were barely talking to me and you seemed angry all the time and…” He bit his lip. “And I know that was my fault, but—”

“No,” John said. “It was mine.”

Rodney frowned. “I’m not so sure it was. I dumped a lot of things on you and you had a perfectly reasonable reaction and I got angry because of it which wasn’t fair and—”

“Rodney,” John said. “It wasn’t you.”

Rodney stared at him for a long moment, then looked down at his hands.

“Let’s talk about this when you’re better,” the scientist said finally. “After Jennifer’s checked you over and you don’t smell so horrific and you don’t look so ill and…and…. we know you’re you and you’re not high.”

John pressed his lips together. Okay. That was fair. Though he certainly felt like himself. For the first time in a long time, he felt utterly at peace. Like all was right with the world. Or galaxy, as the case may be.

In the distance, the sky was beginning to darken, rich pinks and purples coloring the wispy clouds. Then sun on this planet must be beginning to set.

Maybe he was high, because the stupidest thought just came into his brain.

“You know,” he said, “if this were a James Bond movie, we would totally be having sex right now.”

Rodney’s eyes widened almost comically. Then they narrowed and he looked hard at John.

“No, really,” John continued. “At the end of the movie, James has saved the day, rescued the girl, and they’re usually stranded somewhere—like a nice beach on a tropical island near a roaring fire…” He gestured vaguely behind him where the ship was very clearly still on fire. “The sun is setting in the distance, and all James does is smile at the girl and they’re having sex as the credits roll.”

Rodney’s narrowed gaze hadn’t let up. “Sure. You’re high on something. Are you hearing voices right now?”

John just "smiled."

“And, wait, hang on,” Rodney protested. “Which one of us is James Bond?”

Sheppard grinned even more, and leaned back against the boulder.

“Because I rescued you, you know,” Rodney said peevishly.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Sure.”

Rodney pressed his lips together in a thin, tight line, still looking suspiciously at John. Then, with some wariness, he leaned back on the boulder next to him.

A soft crackle came from Rodney’s vest. Rodney glanced at it, momentarily confused, then his eyes widened and he started scrabbling at it. A second later, he had the radio out and in his hand.

“Hello?” he called.

“McKay!” Caldwell’s voice was deeply relieved. “What is happening down there? We’ve been trying you ever since we saw the crash and the subsequent explosions! Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry! I, um…” He patted at his ear. “Yes, I lost my earpiece in the…yes. We’re both good. Just tired and John’s saying some very strange things and I think we need medical attention and how’s that beaming technology fix coming?”

“Not good. We’re going to have to head back to Atlantis for repairs. We have just enough power to make the jump. We’ve already radioed the city, and they’ve sent a jumper through the Stargate. It’s coming your way. Should be there any minute.”

“Actually,” John said, pointing out over the waves. Sure enough, a jumper was rapidly closing in on them from the direction of the setting sun. “They’re almost here.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Rodney said. “We see them. We’ll be fine. See you back home.”

“Safe travels,” Caldwell called. “And…I’m glad you’re both alright. Daedalus out.”

John huffed a laugh. “For Caldwell, that was almost overemotional.”

Rodney smiled. “He loves us.”

“Oh yes,” John agreed. “Paraphrasing my best friend, ‘He tries to hide it, but, deep down, we’re the wind beneath his wings.’”

Rodney sniggered, and John leaned against his arm, resting his head on his shoulder as the jumper closed in on them. Rodney raised a hand to them. Inside the jumper, Teyla, Ronon, Keller and Lorne waved back.
_________________________________________________________

A long, boring week in the infirmary, interspersed with visits from—so it seemed—everyone on Atlantis except for Rodney, and John was finally released. Keller had given him a clean bill of health, smiling with genuine pleasure at his return, and he was glad to know she’d forgiven him.

Turns out, getting kidnapped and nearly dying can generate a lot of goodwill.

Though Rodney not coming around was a little odd.

The bathroom in the infirmary was larger—larger than the ones in the individual rooms—and he relished the long, hot shower as it sloughed off what he imagined to be the last vestiges of his kidnapping. The shaving off of the beard was heavenly—long and scraggly with the first flecks of silver, he’d looked like a vagabond.

As he put on his clothes, he grimaced at how baggy they were. He’d already put on a few pounds, though he knew it would take a while to feel normal again, and he felt a little guilty for mocking McKay’s enforced diet after he’d come back from his solar flare trip through the wormhole. Keller had him on limited, bland foods and it was killing him not to be able to have at least a beer.

Rodney had, after all, promised him a beer on the pier.

His time in the infirmary had also given him time to really think about what he’d felt on the ship and on the beach afterwards. Turned out, he did have some sort of chemical in his system that was relaxing him, so Keller had explained, to make him more susceptible to the Rogue Asgardians mind control device. But that chemical had broken down very quickly once Rodney had separated him from Janus’ device and the ship. So much of what he’d felt had been, so she said, him.

Which meant how he’d felt sitting next to Rodney on the beach was also all him.

He’d opened a door, and, for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to close it. He didn’t have a good explanation for why he had always been terrified to have close relationships – with his family, with Nancy, even here. A therapist could probably help him understand it, but right now, he felt good about finally accepting the one that, frankly, mattered the most.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t incredibly nervous, because he had no idea what would happen when he finally made a move, how his body would react. All he knew was, he was taking the leap.

He might even owe those gray bastards a thank you. Well, no. He hoped they went back to their holes and never came out again.

Still, Rodney hadn’t come to see him, and he wasn’t completely sure why. They’d seemed good on the beach. Things had felt normal. So why hadn’t Rodney come by?

Fully dressed, he waved at the nurses, grabbed his radio, and walked out of the infirmary, intending to head back to his quarters.

Then again, the answer was pretty obvious, wasn’t it? Rodney wasn’t sure if John’s epiphany on the beach was real or not.

By now, though, he had to know. Keller would have debriefed the senior staff about all of it, so he should know that it was. That John had meant it. And yet…no Rodney.

“Hey!”

John turned, and smiled to see Ronon loping his way down the hall towards him.

“Hey.”

“I was coming to see if you wanted company back to your room, but looks like you beat me to it.”

John had, in fact, just about reached the transporter that would get him to that section of the city. Still, he gave a shrug.

“Well, I don’t have to go back to my room.”

“Good,” Ronon said, grinning, “because we may have a bit of a thing.”

“A bit of a…thing?”

“Yeah.” Ronon stepped up to the transporter and stepped inside. “Come on.”

John hesitated a moment, always leery of Ronon’s "things," but he nonetheless followed. Ronon hit the transporter for the location near the pier he always hung out on with Rodney, and in moments they were outside in the bright sunlight, heading to what looking like a picnic.

A smattering of tables and chairs – looking like they’d been liberated form the cafeteria – were scattered about, along with blankets and some towels. An actual picnic table umbrella was open above a couple of the chairs; John had no idea where that had come from.

And milling around were a few dozen people, including Teyla and Kanaan, Keller, Woolsey, Amelia, Teldy and her team, Lorne, Zelenka and Simpson, Caldwell and even Carson, back from one of his “house calls.” Laughter and chatter filled the air, just barely louder than the ocean lapping up against the pier’s struts below. He could even faintly hear some old school rock n’ roll playing out of someone’s speaker system. Ronon called a hello, and the group cheered upon seeing John.

Keller stepped forward and handed him a beer. “Just one,” she said, smiling brightly. “Promise.”

“I promise,” he said, raising it. “Thank you.”

She gave a nod and backed off.

And then folks came in waves, shaking his hand, giving him a hug, Torren kissing his cheek messily at his mother’s insistence. It felt like the kind of family gathering he’d always wished for as a kid, if his mom hadn’t left and their dad hadn’t made every family gathering an excuse to “network.” It was nearly perfect.

Except, as he looked around, he couldn’t help but notice Rodney wasn’t there.

Teyla gestured him over after the party had stopped focusing on him – the tone becoming more of a general good time – and she indicated that he should bend down so she could whisper in his ear.

“He was not sure if you would want him here.”

He frowned, leaning back so he could see her face.

“Why?”

She lifted her eyebrows, and he grimaced.

“Yes,” he said, “fine. I get that. But I want him here.”

She smiled warmly, her hand gripping his arm in clear delight at this statement.

“Then perhaps you could go fetch him? I believe he is just in his room, probably fretting.”

“Definitely fretting,” Ronon said, sidling up to them both. “That’s his default.” He tilted his head towards where the transporter station was. “Go get him.”

“We will let everyone know you will return with him soon,” Teyla promised.

John smiled, and, with a few nods to those he passed by, made his way back towards the transporter.

“Colonel Sheppard!”

John stiffened. To be honest, this was the one thing he was still nervous about. Not that he didn’t trust the people here, but there were still regulations and laws to think about. He sighed heavily, turned and smiled as Caldwell strode up to him.

“Going so soon?” the Colonel asked, a faint smile on his lips.

“Just temporarily,” John said. “I forgot something.”

Caldwell hummed, and he looked around a little. “Yes. I noticed McKay isn’t here.”

“That’s…” John shrugged. “That’s actually whom I’m going to get.”

Caldwell hummed again, nodding slightly. Then, oddly, he stepped a little closer, though he seemed a little distracted.

“I was wondering,” Caldwell said, lowering his voice, “whether you were aware that a few months ago, Congress repealed DADT? The repeal became effective just a couple of weeks ago.”

John’s eyebrows lifted. He’d known that it was being discussed, but he actually hadn’t seen any final orders yet. He honestly never thought something like that would happen.

“I just thought,” Caldwell continued, still not looking directly at him, “that you and, uh, Dr. McKay may not be aware. Might be good for morale to let your respective teams know. Not that I support fraternization, of course, but I would remiss to deny anyone their happiness.”

John smiled lightly. In his head, though, he was reeling a little from the knowledge that even Caldwell had known before he had about him and Rodney.

“That’s all,” Caldwell said, and he backpedaled quickly. “Carry on.”

“Thank you,” he said, keeping his voice as even as possible. “I’ll let Rodney know.”

Caldwell grunted in acknowledgment and walked away. John shook his head and left.
___________________________________

By the time he’d reached Rodney’s door, he was a bundle of nerves. Fact is, he’d been screwing this up so badly for so long, he wasn’t truly sure how Rodney would react.

But he also knew he still had to try to, as Keller had said, “fix” this.

Steeling himself, he rang the door chime.

When the door opened, Rodney stood there in a pale blue silk shirt and black pants. He looked good – he must have dressed for the party, but clearly had changed his mind about going. That was evident from his hair. It was sticking out at all angles, clearly the result of running his hands through it anxiously several times.

Huh. Now John wanted to touch Rodney’s hair. This was going to be one hell of a ride.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

Rodney’s expression had been one of worry, and that worry didn’t dissipate as he nodded and backed away so John could step inside. John looked around the room, noting it looked pretty much the same it always did. He wasn’t sure why he thought it wouldn’t.

“Shouldn’t you be at your party?” Rodney asked.

John turned to face him, and…

Froze.

Everything he’d planned to say just disappeared out of his skull. All his courage seemed to go with it. Now that he was here, every thought in his head just died.

Rodney stared at him for a moment, his eyes softening from worry to dread. Then he swallowed, lowering his gaze to the floor.

“Look,” he said, avoiding John’s gaze, “I want you to know that I get that what you said on the beach wasn’t real. It was the moment. I’m the last person in the world to think that anything said after nearly dying means anything. I mean, it means something, but the weight of it may not be real. And I get that. So, I want you to know that I’m not expecting anything nor do I want anything and, really, I just very much want to go back to being friends, because I miss being your friend and…and…” He winced. “And I’m talking too much. I know. I talk too much. It’s my thing. You know that. You know me. And so, honestly, I just…I would…I would really like to be friends and forget any of this ever happened and can we be friends again?”

He looked up then, and John saw the thing that Keller had described to him all those weeks ago. She’d said that Rodney was a light that never stopped burning. Because that was exactly what he was.

John drew in a deep breath and stepped forward.

“I sometimes wonder,” he said softly, “what it would be like to kiss you.”

Rodney’s breath caught, and John moved closer, his hands cupping Rodney’s face, thumbs running over his cheekbones. Then he was leaning in, feeling the faint tremble under his fingers, and pressed his lips very gently to his.

The kiss was soft, softer than any kiss he’d ever had. Rodney’s lips were sweet, the faintest taste of mint behind them, and they moved only ever so slightly, parting as John pressed a little more possessively. Without pausing, John kissed him again, relishing how pliant and responsive his lips were, enjoying the smell of aftershave on his jaw, the warmth of his skin. On the third kiss, his arms went around Rodney’s head, fingers carding through his fine hair, pulling him in; Rodney’s arms encircled his waist, pressing their bodies together, and this kiss was deeper, longer, wetter…hotter. Oh yes, no worries there.

Panting slightly, he pulled back, pressing his forehead to Rodney’s, feeling Rodney’s own hitched breaths on his face.

“That,” Rodney whispered, “was much better than the first kiss.”

John chuckled. “Told you so.” And returned to kissing him.