SGA Fic: Holding Patterns - John/Rodney, team - PG-13
Oh my God. A fic. A whole, completed fic.
Title: Holding Patterns
Fandom(s): Stargate Atlantis
Author: Icarus
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John/Rodney, Ronon, Teyla, Daniel Jackson, Jack O'Neill, Teal'c
Summary: Rodney's promoted, John's reassigned to lightswitch duty, the Jaffa have founded the new intergalactic Geneva, and home is not what it's cracked up to be.
A/N: Written for Ksen, who requested John Sheppard studying for the bar exam. Thanks to you and
rabidfan for being there and helping me with grad school apps. All beta credit goes to
rabidfan. If there are mistakes I probably added them in after the fact. Wow. I wrote a whole fic.
Holding Patterns
by Icarus
"It could be worse."
"Shut up."
"You don't even know what I'm going to say! Japan's pass rate is six perc--"
"Rodney! I'm studying!"
"You look like you're drinking."
"I'm drinking and studying."
There were mere seconds of blissful silence before....
"Did you know that I was drunk for my second dissertation defense?"
John quietly prayed that ignoring Rodney would have the desired impact. He knew better.
"Mmmwell, more like high on Red Bull. I don't think I ingested solid food for the entire quarter. I was much skinnier in those days...."
"Rodney."
"What?! I'm just trying to cheer you up. It's like a funeral home in here-no, an oncologist's office, with that special comingling of desperate hope and utter fear."
John said through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry that my studying bothers you, but if you don't mind, I'm taking the Bar exam in ten days!"
"It's ridiculous that you even have to take it! There's nobody out there with more interstellar experience than you, except maybe Daniel Jackson, and oh, the idea of him becoming a lawyer is actually frightening? You seem more the 'shady backroom plea bargain' kind of guy, while Jackson's likely to go to the Supreme Court in defense of the Goa'uld."
"Get. Out."
"You know, an Interstellar Immigration lawyer has to have more patience than this, what with all those different cultures and customs. I'm sure you're going to have to write an essay on that."
"You realize I'm still active member of the armed forces-emphasis on the armed?"
"Going, going, but just because I have a sudden inexplicable Red Bull craving, not because of your empty threats."
John called after him on an afterthought: "Bring food!"
"Not the way you've been acting," Rodney sniped, shutting the aluminum screen door behind him.
John repressed an urge to stab his textbooks with a pencil, remembering that stabbing Rodney with said pencil would be a Class A misdemeanor if, 1) done with intent to cause physical injury; 2) he recklessly caused physical injury to Rodney; or 3) with criminal negligence, if he caused physical injury to Rodney by means of a deadly weapon or a dangerous implement, say, a pencil to the carotid artery.
John leaned back and ran his hands through his hair.
He needed a break.
~*~*~
Hours later, John startled at the creak of the kitchen door swinging open as someone simply walked in. Didn't Rodney lock it? John had his gun in his hand like a thought. There were a few boot steps, and then a knock after the fact.
John lowered his weapon. Ronon had never gotten that one down.
"Come on in," he shouted from the living room.
Ronon glanced around the corner. He looked weird in the SGC battle dress uniform.
"Hey," John said, marking his place in his book. They were going to have to paper train Ronon better. Breaking and entering by pushing open a door was a misdemeanor in most states, even without the intention to commit a robbery.
"Hey." Ronon stood, his arms folded on his chest. He made no move to sit. Not his fault. In a sunken living room with little furniture to begin with, every surface was covered with stacks of books, papers, balled up tissues, and aging, fragrant Chinese take-out cartons. The carpet hadn't been vacuumed … well, ever.
After a long silence, Ronon opened with, "Been four years."
"Yup."
"Lot of promises." Ronon grimaced and shook his head, once, shifting. "They're not going back." Even though he was on a gate team, the SGC was still "them." John understood.
John refused to defend the current mission priorities. Or lie to Ronon. The Deadalus was scheduled for a return to the Pegasus galaxy, true, but that trip would likely be scrubbed. Again.
"So." Ronon asked, "You stealing a ship?"
"What?" John said.
"...Atlantis?" Ronon hazarded.
"No, I'm not stealing Atlantis!" John insisted.
Not that he hadn't considered it. But the Pegasus galaxy needed both Atlantis and Earth. Alone, the Atlantis team had barely survived a year without Earth's eleventh hour rescue. John hadn't forgotten. He knew Rodney hadn't -- that had been The Year Without Coffee.
Ronon wouldn't know, of course. He'd never seen them in their ripped uniforms, or watched the steady attrition of a very small crew: Grodin, Slavensky, Ramsey all gone in one week. In Rodney's darker moments he'd played a statistical game of "how long can we last?" with Radek. John hadn't participated--wouldn't--but he'd done the math. Five years. He'd never told anyone Elizabeth's plan to sink Atlantis and relocate the any final personnel.
Teyla understood. She'd been part of that plan.
Ronon took a look around, taking in the books as if seeing them for the first time, his face puzzled. "You really becoming a lawyer?"
"Yes! If people will let me!"
Ronon's voice was small and nonplussed."...Okay."
"I'll get you back to Pegasus, buddy," John promised, squeezing the book between his palms.
~*~*~
Grey dawn was seeping in through the windows before John fell into bed. Irritatingly, Rodney was there, taking up most the king-sized covers and awake, even though John hadn't heard him come home. Rodney wrapped himself around John-who was little more than deadweight at the moment-and, his round stomach pressed against John's ass, adjusted his dick to slide between John's thighs. If he wanted some action, he was out of luck. But he seemed content just to press close, a warm huff of breath against the back of John's neck.
"Thought a PhD would understand the need for study...." John groused, though really, he didn't have any fight left.
"Law is stupid and arbitrary," Rodney mumbled.
John snorted a low laugh, voice raspy, "That's why it's hard."
~*~*~
Rodney never had brought food. At lunch the fridge was as empty as it had been the day before, and Rodney was probably back at Atlantis grumbling about Area 52 denying his research plans again. John stood in front of the open door in his boxers and scratched, cool air wafting around him.
He finally picked out a beer. Hey, it had calories.
He only had the cap off when the aluminum kitchen door rattled under a knock. Through the screen, staring up the steps, Teyla peered in, shading her eyes.
"Rodney suggested that I...." her voice trailed off. She frowned in concern. "Are you well, Colonel Sheppard?"
"I'm studying," John said with a groan, covering his face with his hand. If he postponed he'd lose his testing fee, and also probably his nerve.
He set the beer in the sink, the only clear space in the kitchen, then trundled to the door to let her in. If she showed up early in the morning - well, his morning - then she could deal with him in his underwear. Given Atlantis emergencies and years of off-world situations she'd probably seen every pair he owned anyway.
"You have not been in Atlantis for some time."
Rodney had gone to Teyla. Of all people. It was a dirty move.
"I've been granted a leave of absence," John explained.
Actually, General O'Neill had said, "Sure, knock yourself out" in a blithe tone that suggested he thought John's efforts were a waste of time.
"I was unaware that your… training… would be so rigorous," she said, sitting at the kitchen table with a regretful sigh. "In the Pegasus galaxy learning the local law is usually a simple, if oftentimes perplexing, matter."
The kitchen also had only one chair that wasn't covered in books and papers. Silently cursing Rodney, John stood, arms folded. He leaned back against the doorjamb to the cluttered living room behind him. "I have to take two tests. One on our land-based law. The second about a field of law that's being written as we speak."
"There is a test for laws that do not yet exist?" she puzzled.
"So they tell me. And they keep changing them. Almost as if they don't want me to succeed as their first interstellar legal expert, can't imagine why," John said.
"I'm told there are others who could assist me."
Who'd she been talking to?
After Atlantis had landed on Earth, she'd brought Torren and Kanaan to live far from the Wraith, intending to be US citizens--until the IOA backpedaled on all their promises. Ronon at least was still going off-world. Teyla had opted to remain on Atlantis. None of them had known this was a mistake until the gate control crystal had been pulled to prevent the Atlantis DHD from overriding the SGC's. Suddenly Atlantis was just a floating laboratory off the coast of Alaska, under the purview of Area 52.
As pretty as Mt. Denali was, John preferred not to have to take a chopper just to see land.
"None with clearance," John insisted. "At least, not on your side."
"Perhaps Colonel Davis?" Teyla raised an eyebrow.
Ah. That would've come from O'Neill then, who liked Davis, even though O'Neill himself had spawned Davis' nickname 'Major Disaster.'
John winced. "He isn't precisely on our side: he's the one crafting the laws. Granted he's fair, but he has a job to do."
"I'm told I will have to wait off-world until my case is heard," Teyla said, her voice deceptively calm, though the fact that she'd started listening to rumors showed how worried she really was. "At the Alpha site." No place to raise a kid.
"No. No way. Don't let them do that to you." John shook his head. "I mean, technically, yes, you do-or would, but the law's written so that both Cheyenne mountain and Atlantis are considered 'off-world.'"
That little loophole had been written in for Teal'c. Still, Davis had left it in place, so maybe he really was helping.
"Please, Colonel. I did not know my situation would cost you so much effort. I have spoken with Teal'c and Chulak will come to my aid."
"What can-? No," John said, quickly catching on. "No, no, no...."
"Chulak will grant me asylum. They have the means to return us to the Pegasus galaxy," Teyla explained.
"Yeah, and if you accept asylum, you'll never be able to return to Atlantis, even once we get it back into the sky," John said. Atlantis was a 'weapons research facility' now, with John as the nominal leader. Ha. Rodney knew more about Atlantis' operations than John did.
"Rodney believes that--"
"Rodney doesn't think I can pass!"
Teyla held up a cautionary hand. "He has not said as much. But Rodney believes my application will take years, possibly even decades. Torren, Kanaan and I do not have years to wait."
John hung his head. "You deserve better."
"I come from what your military believes is a primitive culture. I do not have an army at my 'beck and call,' or so Teal'c has explained."
"The test is in ten--no, just nine days," John said, quietly panicking at the reminder. "Let me finish what I started."
Teyla hesitated, her face pensive.
"I can do this," John insisted. "Atlantis owes you. Hell, I owe you."
She took a deep breath. "Very well," she accepted, though reluctantly. Her shoulders relaxed.
John breathed, suddenly aware that he'd been holding his breath.
"I respect this new side of you, Colonel Sheppard. Time was once that you would have opted for the easy solution, the, ah... how does one put it? Shortcut?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Trust me. If there were an easier way I'd be all over it."
She glanced down at his boxers. Then gave him a small amused smile. "I have not seen those before," she said.
John looked and, face turning hot, realized he was wearing the ones Rodney had bought him, with the elements Copper (Cu) and Tellurium (Te) spelling out the word "CuTe." He was too tired for his usual glib excuses, though he hated being obvious. The appeal of Witt v. Department of the Air Force had eventually led to the end of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, but John preferred that his personal matters be kept, well, personal.
~*~*~
The night before D-Day, as John had started calling it, Rodney took him out to eat on the excuse that nothing could change the outcome at this late date (plus the more valid point that John couldn't live on Cheetos, Szechwan and beer alone). John had conceded that nutrition the night before the test was probably a good idea. He still brought one of his textbooks and scanned through it after they'd ordered. He didn't look up until the chicken and fries arrived.
Chicken wing in hand, Rodney leaned back in the red and white checked booth and sighed. "I'm going to be grateful when this whole episode is over."
"Yeah," John muttered from behind his textbook, turning a page. "Thanks for the support. Couldn't've done it without you."
"Don't mention it."
John glanced over the edge of the volume. "That was sarcasm." He closed the book. The small print had begun to swim before his eyes proving Rodney had a good point about the food. He dug into the fries first, saying around a fist full, "I'm sick of you pissing your territory."
"Huh?"
"You know what I mean." John indicated the book with a floppy fry. "This. Maybe I'm not going to pass with flying colors, or the Rodney McKay patented perfect score except-where-there's-a mistake-on-the-test, God forbid-but I am going to pass, damn it."
"Okay, number one," Rodney held up a pointer finger. John sagged in his seat and already regretted mentioning anything. "That question was completely and utterly wrong and everyone got an extra point because of me, not that they've ever bothered to thank me, and number two--what are you babbling about?"
"Come on, Rodney. I have a college degree. I got good grades in school." When he didn't have a party the night before the final but John decided to leave out that wince-worthy detail. "People pass the Bar every day without requiring a genius IQ."
"The present situation being proof of that! If they had any brains at all they'd be begging Teyla to stay!"
John growled, "And I'd think you'd be the first in line to try to help!"
"We're going to have this conversation now? The night before the Bar?"
Apparently. John folded his arms over his chest and chewed, glaring.
"Look, at present I'd advise against any undue emotional strain..." Rodney began in an arch tone.
John hardened his jaw. And chewed once, twice....
"Concentration is crucial..." Rodney explained, starting to sound desperate.
John took another handful of fries and visualized exactly what he wanted to do to Rodney right now. It definitely went beyond abusing pencils and carotid arteries. This was Teyla they were talking about.
Rodney shrank in on himself. Then finally caved: "This isn't you."
John squinted at him.
"What I like about you is that you never compromise. That's why they--" he waved in the general direction of the military establishment and the US government, "--hate you so much! It kills me to see you turn your back on who you are and become … Dave."
"What do you want me to do?" John growled. "Let them kick Teyla off-world? Strand her on the Alpha site-or Chulak? Which she would hate by the way."
"Though they like her. A lot," Rodney said in a confused voice.
"It's weird, isn't it?" John admitted.
"It must be the 'bad ass' thing," Rodney said.
"Must be. Though you'd think they'd be into Ronon," John said.
"Yet not so much," Rodney said.
"They treat him like a kindergartener." John nodded.
"I'd noticed that," Rodney said with a little too much satisfaction. He slouched in the booth, studying John. "So... what? This Bar exam is all about you impressing me by proving you can compete on an intellectual level? Because in that case you shouldn't have picked anything in the humanities."
"What? No!" That was startling enough to make John sit up. He thought it was obvious. "I'm trying to help Teyla."
"See, but that's the part that doesn't make any sense." Rodney licked some chicken grease off his fingers. "It didn't have to be you. There were plenty of people. Even Kavanagh could do it--oh my God, I can't believe I came up with an option scarier than Doctor Jackson."
"Yeah." John nodded, bug-eyed. His blood had run cold. "He'd be good though."
"Too good." Rodney made a vague spinning gesture in the air. "So...?"
John took a deep breath and said: "I don't want to be a cop."
Rodney's eyes darted around in confusion. John leaned forward to try to explain. Slowly.
"I've gone nine years without the biennial review of my pilot's license, and anyway, I don't want to fly the equivalent of biplanes, comparatively speaking. Not after space travel and hyperdrives." He continued, "I'm not suited for top brass, they know it, I know it, and I don't have as many friends as O'Neill," he shrugged, "anyway, not enough to make them overlook it. I'm not O'Neill," John admitted. "He annoys people then turns on the charm and somehow wins them over. I annoy people--"
"-and they stay annoyed, yes," Rodney finished, nodding profusely. "I've noticed that about you."
"Yeah." John sighed.
"Um. He apologizes," Rodney had to point out.
"So do I."
They both paused. After a pregnant silence they both said at once-- "Yes, but he means it," Rodney said at the same moment John added, "Okay, no I don't."
They laughed. And ordered more chicken wings.
John leaned back in the booth, finally content. Rodney got it. Got him.
"I want to stay in the Stargate program, this is an opportunity to do so, and the attempt to extradite Teyla was just a nudge in what I hope is the right direction. And it will be, I think, but only if I can pass the goddamned Bar."
"I wish I'd known this sooner," Rodney said. "I can rig the test, of course."
"Rodney...!" John said in an undertone.
"Not the Bar! The other one." Rodney looked up at what was probably a shocked expression on John's face. He lowered his fork with a slanted frown of disdain. "Don't tell me you're unaware it's already rigged."
~*~*~
Colonel Davis (though he'd never lose his Major Disaster nickname) had the best poker face John had ever seen. Though John was pretty sure he caught a smirk when he shook John's hand.
Settled: Davis had been on their side all along.
In the semicircle around John, the military brass and IOA officials had that collection of stiff-backed, flinty-eyed, nostril-flaring expressions he was all too familiar with: people who had to praise and reward someone they absolutely loathed. Once again John had defied them and come out on top. He stood at parade rest, not moving a muscle. He'd learned.
Fortunately he was too tired (too relieved, too grateful) to gloat, though it was hard not to glow with pride. All those broken promises. The year of Teyla being bullshitted by her so-called IOA "adviser"-oh no, she didn't need a lawyer-until John had sat in and asked pointed, revealing questions. The IOA had abandoned all pretense then and claimed there was no law to cover off-world immigration. Her case was dead on arrival until the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee had an unexpected attack of kindness and supported her petition. Rodney had claimed this was just political gamesmanship but as Doctor Jackson had put it, "No. Don't rule out that there are good people in the world."
Then his conversation in Woolsey's office just before John had taken his leave of absence: "People don't see what you're doing, but I do. I envy you, Sheppard. You're trailblazing an entirely new legal field."
He'd forgotten Woolsey was a lawyer.
On the other side of the SGC conference table, Colonel Carter grinned from ear to ear. Next to her, Teal'c raised his chin in warm acknowledgment. Rodney looked strange in a tie but he bounced on his heels as happily as he had that day they'd first left for Atlantis. Teyla smiled by the door with Torren beside her, clutching her hand. He'd missed preschool but John would damned if he'd be shut out of first grade.
General O'Neill himself pinned the JAG insignia on John's collar. He clapped John on the shoulder and voiced what everyone was thinking, "No idea how you did it."
"Me neither," John answered with complete honesty.
That second test had been a breeze. Not that anyone but Rodney could have known why.
It had been the definition of obscure, comprising only questions from the Milky Way galaxy with not a single one about Pegasus. Yet maybe only three people could have passed. It focused completely on worlds and cultures John had every reason to know well, because he'd either encountered them directly in his brief stint on an SGC gate team, or they were records Rodney, Elizabeth, and John had poured over trying to solve their problems with the Asurans, the Goa'uld spy, the Pegasus galaxy plague....
John almost regretted bothering to study. Almost. But he did have to know his stuff for his new job, and he didn't trust Rodney not to throw in a zinger or two, just to keep him on his toes.
So maybe he did want to impress the guy. Just a teensie bit.
At the reception afterward, Doctor Jackson approached and shook his hand in congratulations. "Sorry to miss the ceremony." He thumbed behind his shoulder. "Duty calls." He pulled John into a proud hug, pounding him on the back. He took the opportunity to murmur in John's ear, "You know, he really did believe you'd make it."
"Huh?"
John suddenly worried that the gig was up. Everyone had seen through their stunt.
"The Bar exam." Jackson nodded, exchanging a glance with Teyla across the room.
Aha. Jackson was the one she'd been confiding in. No wonder she was worried. Doctor Jackson never gave definitive answers; that would freak her out.
"McKay said you'd ace the Bar but that it wouldn't matter, because no one could pass the Intergalactic." Jackson's eyes narrowed at him. "I saw the test--actually, they had me score it." His eyebrows raised. "He's right. I couldn't have done it. How'd you manage?"
John shrugged. "Oh, you know. Always guess C."
It hadn't been multiple choice.
Jackson eyed him and drawled, "Yeah."
After more pleasantries, John escaped through SGC buffet grazers to the far corner where Rodney had collected several hors d'oeuvres cheese squares on little toothpicks. John sidled up and nudged him with an elbow. "So. What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"Please," Rodney rolled his eyes and said with his mouth full, "I have back ups to my back up plans. I've always planned on surviving to a ripe old age - unlike certain people I know."
John nodded amiably, bobbing his head. He breathed in through his teeth, shaking his head. "Still. Two-income households. That's extra strain. I might be off-world a lot."
Rodney chewed rapidly, betraying his anxiety. "Win your first case and then we'll talk about your so-called career."
"And if I don't win?"
The odds were stacked against him. All of them.
Even if the SGC eventually returned Atlantis to the Pegasus galaxy, it would do so without John in command. He'd known all three years he'd been taking those law classes. Known when he'd left Pegasus. Returning with Atlantis to save Earth meant giving up Atlantis, giving up his command. He'd done it anyways; would do it again.
But so long as they both had access to the Stargate, they had options. There was a bigger world out there. A bigger galaxy.
Having a law degree clutched in his fist somehow made John starry-eyed and aware that there was more potential out there.
He jostled Rodney's elbow. "So, looking for that cushy research job? Finally going for that Nobel Prize?" Because that's what Rodney would have to give up.
Rodney snorted. "Like I can publish." His eyes flicked over to John, sharp and assessing. "And a real scientist would never pass up the opportunity to learn more."
Yes! They were on the same page! Internally, John danced a jig. Rodney got it. Got him. Rodney would pull up roots and go, wherever John led. Though the military wasn't good at keeping workable teams together (the late General Hammond being a notable exception to the rule). John's future clouded over a moment.
"If I'm assigned to the Jaffa home world," John offered, thinking fast. "I'm sure a spouse could go with me...."
He didn't expect Rodney to start choking on the cheese. He had to pound Rodney on the back and hold out his palm for Rodney to spit the wet mass into his hand. John wrapped it in a napkin and wiped off. Ew. Nice response to his proposal there, though he supposed it had been a little sudden. Rodney stared up at him with big eyes.
"Vacations on P2X-37G. Boring off-world diplomatic missions. I'm offering you the universe here," John said with a confident smile and wide gesture.
John imagined Atlantis flying by itself to the Pegasus galaxy. No severed ties to this galaxy. Rodney and he stealing a Goa'uld mothership to chase it. Golly, gee whiz, who knew it would do that? It was a fantasy but he was free to dream. In the meantime, John had always been a practical man; just one who'd somehow lived an extraordinary life.
"Uh..." Rodney whimpered. "Yes ... ah, that would be nice." And he hated diplomatic missions. That was a resounding yes. "Didn't you... didn't you want, um, privacy?"
John tilted his head, considering. True, he didn't even like Teyla knowing. But if he was leaving this planet he didn't care. And he was going. Overnight, the Earth had grown too small.
"I'm the only Intergalactic Lawyer in the galaxy. Two galaxies. I think that defines job security."
"...okay," Rodney breathed. He looked around, examining John's hands, glancing down at his pockets.... "Is there a ring?"
"What?" John turned a blank look on him.
"Is there--oh my god, you do everything by the seat of your pants, don't you?" Rodney hissed.
John shrugged. It wasn't his fault he tended to think fast: side effect of a life of emergency planning.
A wedding on the Jaffa home world? He bet Teal'c would be willing to help. The new Jaffa capital, with its open doors to all the former slaves of the Goa'uld, was fast becoming the interplanetary Geneva, a perfect place to set up home base. Or there was a steady flow of refugees out of Kelowna if Rodney wanted a life with more modern creature comforts. Killer hot springs on that planet.
"Kelowna's nice this time of year," John suggested.
"If you don't mind naquadria radiation and early onset schizophrenia," Rodney sniped.
True. "P7S-441?"
"That's-okay, doable, and safe. So long as their sentinel works."
Or, hey-off Earth, the stargates were accessible to everyone. It didn't matter what planet, everywhere would be a short commute. "Or there's that little subtropical place with the weather control, whatsit-the Touchstone. Grass skirts? Toplessness?" Gay or not, Rodney liked boobs.
"Are we talking about honeymoon sites or...?"
"Honeymoon?" John said.
"Oh, for--" Rodney spluttered. Then sniffed, chin high. "I'm thinking of declining this ill-considered proposal."
"No, you're not." John breezed past his complaint. "What about P27-X22?" There was totally alien technology on P27-X22, stuff that even the Ancients had put in their museums.
"It's a desert!" Rodney argued.
"I mean for work, not to live there."
"What about Atlantis?" Rodney stared, finally getting it. For a genius, sometimes he could be slow on the uptake.
John folded his arms. "We left Atlantis four years ago, in the Pegasus Galaxy."
And it was true. An Atlantis Research Facility bobbing safely in the Pacific ocean was not the Atlantis expedition. It didn't have a stargate program, or off-world travel, or even a purpose beyond the cataloging of Ancient knowledge.
"You work for Area 52," John said for emphasis, glaring. "Not Atlantis. Not anymore."
"But the Ancient database...." Rodney pleaded with a whimper.
"You don't have to come with me," John admitted, readjusting his plans.
Disappointed, yeah. But he wouldn't, couldn't stay. Teyla's case would be his swan song before he blew this popsicle stand.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Damn it, Sheppard." He flung out an arm dramatically, startling nearby SGC personnel who glanced in his direction. It spoke volumes that they simply returned to their conversations. "You always do this! You force people to face hard truths and then pick the worst, riskiest -- and might I add most unpleasant! -- option. Then when nobody in their right mind would want to follow you and rationally hesitates, you turn around and volunteer to go it alone when obviously there's no possible way you could succeed without me, not to mention I would never, ever, let you." He sighed. "On top of that you're often annoyingly right - though don't you dare throw that in my face the next time you're wrong!" he concluded with an accusing pointer finger.
Rodney chewed his lip.
Then he added, in a quiet little voice, "And, uh. Good to have you back, Colonel."
Title: Holding Patterns
Fandom(s): Stargate Atlantis
Author: Icarus
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John/Rodney, Ronon, Teyla, Daniel Jackson, Jack O'Neill, Teal'c
Summary: Rodney's promoted, John's reassigned to lightswitch duty, the Jaffa have founded the new intergalactic Geneva, and home is not what it's cracked up to be.
A/N: Written for Ksen, who requested John Sheppard studying for the bar exam. Thanks to you and
rabidfan for being there and helping me with grad school apps. All beta credit goes to
rabidfan. If there are mistakes I probably added them in after the fact. Wow. I wrote a whole fic.
Holding Patterns
by Icarus
"It could be worse."
"Shut up."
"You don't even know what I'm going to say! Japan's pass rate is six perc--"
"Rodney! I'm studying!"
"You look like you're drinking."
"I'm drinking and studying."
There were mere seconds of blissful silence before....
"Did you know that I was drunk for my second dissertation defense?"
John quietly prayed that ignoring Rodney would have the desired impact. He knew better.
"Mmmwell, more like high on Red Bull. I don't think I ingested solid food for the entire quarter. I was much skinnier in those days...."
"Rodney."
"What?! I'm just trying to cheer you up. It's like a funeral home in here-no, an oncologist's office, with that special comingling of desperate hope and utter fear."
John said through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry that my studying bothers you, but if you don't mind, I'm taking the Bar exam in ten days!"
"It's ridiculous that you even have to take it! There's nobody out there with more interstellar experience than you, except maybe Daniel Jackson, and oh, the idea of him becoming a lawyer is actually frightening? You seem more the 'shady backroom plea bargain' kind of guy, while Jackson's likely to go to the Supreme Court in defense of the Goa'uld."
"Get. Out."
"You know, an Interstellar Immigration lawyer has to have more patience than this, what with all those different cultures and customs. I'm sure you're going to have to write an essay on that."
"You realize I'm still active member of the armed forces-emphasis on the armed?"
"Going, going, but just because I have a sudden inexplicable Red Bull craving, not because of your empty threats."
John called after him on an afterthought: "Bring food!"
"Not the way you've been acting," Rodney sniped, shutting the aluminum screen door behind him.
John repressed an urge to stab his textbooks with a pencil, remembering that stabbing Rodney with said pencil would be a Class A misdemeanor if, 1) done with intent to cause physical injury; 2) he recklessly caused physical injury to Rodney; or 3) with criminal negligence, if he caused physical injury to Rodney by means of a deadly weapon or a dangerous implement, say, a pencil to the carotid artery.
John leaned back and ran his hands through his hair.
He needed a break.
~*~*~
Hours later, John startled at the creak of the kitchen door swinging open as someone simply walked in. Didn't Rodney lock it? John had his gun in his hand like a thought. There were a few boot steps, and then a knock after the fact.
John lowered his weapon. Ronon had never gotten that one down.
"Come on in," he shouted from the living room.
Ronon glanced around the corner. He looked weird in the SGC battle dress uniform.
"Hey," John said, marking his place in his book. They were going to have to paper train Ronon better. Breaking and entering by pushing open a door was a misdemeanor in most states, even without the intention to commit a robbery.
"Hey." Ronon stood, his arms folded on his chest. He made no move to sit. Not his fault. In a sunken living room with little furniture to begin with, every surface was covered with stacks of books, papers, balled up tissues, and aging, fragrant Chinese take-out cartons. The carpet hadn't been vacuumed … well, ever.
After a long silence, Ronon opened with, "Been four years."
"Yup."
"Lot of promises." Ronon grimaced and shook his head, once, shifting. "They're not going back." Even though he was on a gate team, the SGC was still "them." John understood.
John refused to defend the current mission priorities. Or lie to Ronon. The Deadalus was scheduled for a return to the Pegasus galaxy, true, but that trip would likely be scrubbed. Again.
"So." Ronon asked, "You stealing a ship?"
"What?" John said.
"...Atlantis?" Ronon hazarded.
"No, I'm not stealing Atlantis!" John insisted.
Not that he hadn't considered it. But the Pegasus galaxy needed both Atlantis and Earth. Alone, the Atlantis team had barely survived a year without Earth's eleventh hour rescue. John hadn't forgotten. He knew Rodney hadn't -- that had been The Year Without Coffee.
Ronon wouldn't know, of course. He'd never seen them in their ripped uniforms, or watched the steady attrition of a very small crew: Grodin, Slavensky, Ramsey all gone in one week. In Rodney's darker moments he'd played a statistical game of "how long can we last?" with Radek. John hadn't participated--wouldn't--but he'd done the math. Five years. He'd never told anyone Elizabeth's plan to sink Atlantis and relocate the any final personnel.
Teyla understood. She'd been part of that plan.
Ronon took a look around, taking in the books as if seeing them for the first time, his face puzzled. "You really becoming a lawyer?"
"Yes! If people will let me!"
Ronon's voice was small and nonplussed."...Okay."
"I'll get you back to Pegasus, buddy," John promised, squeezing the book between his palms.
~*~*~
Grey dawn was seeping in through the windows before John fell into bed. Irritatingly, Rodney was there, taking up most the king-sized covers and awake, even though John hadn't heard him come home. Rodney wrapped himself around John-who was little more than deadweight at the moment-and, his round stomach pressed against John's ass, adjusted his dick to slide between John's thighs. If he wanted some action, he was out of luck. But he seemed content just to press close, a warm huff of breath against the back of John's neck.
"Thought a PhD would understand the need for study...." John groused, though really, he didn't have any fight left.
"Law is stupid and arbitrary," Rodney mumbled.
John snorted a low laugh, voice raspy, "That's why it's hard."
~*~*~
Rodney never had brought food. At lunch the fridge was as empty as it had been the day before, and Rodney was probably back at Atlantis grumbling about Area 52 denying his research plans again. John stood in front of the open door in his boxers and scratched, cool air wafting around him.
He finally picked out a beer. Hey, it had calories.
He only had the cap off when the aluminum kitchen door rattled under a knock. Through the screen, staring up the steps, Teyla peered in, shading her eyes.
"Rodney suggested that I...." her voice trailed off. She frowned in concern. "Are you well, Colonel Sheppard?"
"I'm studying," John said with a groan, covering his face with his hand. If he postponed he'd lose his testing fee, and also probably his nerve.
He set the beer in the sink, the only clear space in the kitchen, then trundled to the door to let her in. If she showed up early in the morning - well, his morning - then she could deal with him in his underwear. Given Atlantis emergencies and years of off-world situations she'd probably seen every pair he owned anyway.
"You have not been in Atlantis for some time."
Rodney had gone to Teyla. Of all people. It was a dirty move.
"I've been granted a leave of absence," John explained.
Actually, General O'Neill had said, "Sure, knock yourself out" in a blithe tone that suggested he thought John's efforts were a waste of time.
"I was unaware that your… training… would be so rigorous," she said, sitting at the kitchen table with a regretful sigh. "In the Pegasus galaxy learning the local law is usually a simple, if oftentimes perplexing, matter."
The kitchen also had only one chair that wasn't covered in books and papers. Silently cursing Rodney, John stood, arms folded. He leaned back against the doorjamb to the cluttered living room behind him. "I have to take two tests. One on our land-based law. The second about a field of law that's being written as we speak."
"There is a test for laws that do not yet exist?" she puzzled.
"So they tell me. And they keep changing them. Almost as if they don't want me to succeed as their first interstellar legal expert, can't imagine why," John said.
"I'm told there are others who could assist me."
Who'd she been talking to?
After Atlantis had landed on Earth, she'd brought Torren and Kanaan to live far from the Wraith, intending to be US citizens--until the IOA backpedaled on all their promises. Ronon at least was still going off-world. Teyla had opted to remain on Atlantis. None of them had known this was a mistake until the gate control crystal had been pulled to prevent the Atlantis DHD from overriding the SGC's. Suddenly Atlantis was just a floating laboratory off the coast of Alaska, under the purview of Area 52.
As pretty as Mt. Denali was, John preferred not to have to take a chopper just to see land.
"None with clearance," John insisted. "At least, not on your side."
"Perhaps Colonel Davis?" Teyla raised an eyebrow.
Ah. That would've come from O'Neill then, who liked Davis, even though O'Neill himself had spawned Davis' nickname 'Major Disaster.'
John winced. "He isn't precisely on our side: he's the one crafting the laws. Granted he's fair, but he has a job to do."
"I'm told I will have to wait off-world until my case is heard," Teyla said, her voice deceptively calm, though the fact that she'd started listening to rumors showed how worried she really was. "At the Alpha site." No place to raise a kid.
"No. No way. Don't let them do that to you." John shook his head. "I mean, technically, yes, you do-or would, but the law's written so that both Cheyenne mountain and Atlantis are considered 'off-world.'"
That little loophole had been written in for Teal'c. Still, Davis had left it in place, so maybe he really was helping.
"Please, Colonel. I did not know my situation would cost you so much effort. I have spoken with Teal'c and Chulak will come to my aid."
"What can-? No," John said, quickly catching on. "No, no, no...."
"Chulak will grant me asylum. They have the means to return us to the Pegasus galaxy," Teyla explained.
"Yeah, and if you accept asylum, you'll never be able to return to Atlantis, even once we get it back into the sky," John said. Atlantis was a 'weapons research facility' now, with John as the nominal leader. Ha. Rodney knew more about Atlantis' operations than John did.
"Rodney believes that--"
"Rodney doesn't think I can pass!"
Teyla held up a cautionary hand. "He has not said as much. But Rodney believes my application will take years, possibly even decades. Torren, Kanaan and I do not have years to wait."
John hung his head. "You deserve better."
"I come from what your military believes is a primitive culture. I do not have an army at my 'beck and call,' or so Teal'c has explained."
"The test is in ten--no, just nine days," John said, quietly panicking at the reminder. "Let me finish what I started."
Teyla hesitated, her face pensive.
"I can do this," John insisted. "Atlantis owes you. Hell, I owe you."
She took a deep breath. "Very well," she accepted, though reluctantly. Her shoulders relaxed.
John breathed, suddenly aware that he'd been holding his breath.
"I respect this new side of you, Colonel Sheppard. Time was once that you would have opted for the easy solution, the, ah... how does one put it? Shortcut?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Trust me. If there were an easier way I'd be all over it."
She glanced down at his boxers. Then gave him a small amused smile. "I have not seen those before," she said.
John looked and, face turning hot, realized he was wearing the ones Rodney had bought him, with the elements Copper (Cu) and Tellurium (Te) spelling out the word "CuTe." He was too tired for his usual glib excuses, though he hated being obvious. The appeal of Witt v. Department of the Air Force had eventually led to the end of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, but John preferred that his personal matters be kept, well, personal.
~*~*~
The night before D-Day, as John had started calling it, Rodney took him out to eat on the excuse that nothing could change the outcome at this late date (plus the more valid point that John couldn't live on Cheetos, Szechwan and beer alone). John had conceded that nutrition the night before the test was probably a good idea. He still brought one of his textbooks and scanned through it after they'd ordered. He didn't look up until the chicken and fries arrived.
Chicken wing in hand, Rodney leaned back in the red and white checked booth and sighed. "I'm going to be grateful when this whole episode is over."
"Yeah," John muttered from behind his textbook, turning a page. "Thanks for the support. Couldn't've done it without you."
"Don't mention it."
John glanced over the edge of the volume. "That was sarcasm." He closed the book. The small print had begun to swim before his eyes proving Rodney had a good point about the food. He dug into the fries first, saying around a fist full, "I'm sick of you pissing your territory."
"Huh?"
"You know what I mean." John indicated the book with a floppy fry. "This. Maybe I'm not going to pass with flying colors, or the Rodney McKay patented perfect score except-where-there's-a mistake-on-the-test, God forbid-but I am going to pass, damn it."
"Okay, number one," Rodney held up a pointer finger. John sagged in his seat and already regretted mentioning anything. "That question was completely and utterly wrong and everyone got an extra point because of me, not that they've ever bothered to thank me, and number two--what are you babbling about?"
"Come on, Rodney. I have a college degree. I got good grades in school." When he didn't have a party the night before the final but John decided to leave out that wince-worthy detail. "People pass the Bar every day without requiring a genius IQ."
"The present situation being proof of that! If they had any brains at all they'd be begging Teyla to stay!"
John growled, "And I'd think you'd be the first in line to try to help!"
"We're going to have this conversation now? The night before the Bar?"
Apparently. John folded his arms over his chest and chewed, glaring.
"Look, at present I'd advise against any undue emotional strain..." Rodney began in an arch tone.
John hardened his jaw. And chewed once, twice....
"Concentration is crucial..." Rodney explained, starting to sound desperate.
John took another handful of fries and visualized exactly what he wanted to do to Rodney right now. It definitely went beyond abusing pencils and carotid arteries. This was Teyla they were talking about.
Rodney shrank in on himself. Then finally caved: "This isn't you."
John squinted at him.
"What I like about you is that you never compromise. That's why they--" he waved in the general direction of the military establishment and the US government, "--hate you so much! It kills me to see you turn your back on who you are and become … Dave."
"What do you want me to do?" John growled. "Let them kick Teyla off-world? Strand her on the Alpha site-or Chulak? Which she would hate by the way."
"Though they like her. A lot," Rodney said in a confused voice.
"It's weird, isn't it?" John admitted.
"It must be the 'bad ass' thing," Rodney said.
"Must be. Though you'd think they'd be into Ronon," John said.
"Yet not so much," Rodney said.
"They treat him like a kindergartener." John nodded.
"I'd noticed that," Rodney said with a little too much satisfaction. He slouched in the booth, studying John. "So... what? This Bar exam is all about you impressing me by proving you can compete on an intellectual level? Because in that case you shouldn't have picked anything in the humanities."
"What? No!" That was startling enough to make John sit up. He thought it was obvious. "I'm trying to help Teyla."
"See, but that's the part that doesn't make any sense." Rodney licked some chicken grease off his fingers. "It didn't have to be you. There were plenty of people. Even Kavanagh could do it--oh my God, I can't believe I came up with an option scarier than Doctor Jackson."
"Yeah." John nodded, bug-eyed. His blood had run cold. "He'd be good though."
"Too good." Rodney made a vague spinning gesture in the air. "So...?"
John took a deep breath and said: "I don't want to be a cop."
Rodney's eyes darted around in confusion. John leaned forward to try to explain. Slowly.
"I've gone nine years without the biennial review of my pilot's license, and anyway, I don't want to fly the equivalent of biplanes, comparatively speaking. Not after space travel and hyperdrives." He continued, "I'm not suited for top brass, they know it, I know it, and I don't have as many friends as O'Neill," he shrugged, "anyway, not enough to make them overlook it. I'm not O'Neill," John admitted. "He annoys people then turns on the charm and somehow wins them over. I annoy people--"
"-and they stay annoyed, yes," Rodney finished, nodding profusely. "I've noticed that about you."
"Yeah." John sighed.
"Um. He apologizes," Rodney had to point out.
"So do I."
They both paused. After a pregnant silence they both said at once-- "Yes, but he means it," Rodney said at the same moment John added, "Okay, no I don't."
They laughed. And ordered more chicken wings.
John leaned back in the booth, finally content. Rodney got it. Got him.
"I want to stay in the Stargate program, this is an opportunity to do so, and the attempt to extradite Teyla was just a nudge in what I hope is the right direction. And it will be, I think, but only if I can pass the goddamned Bar."
"I wish I'd known this sooner," Rodney said. "I can rig the test, of course."
"Rodney...!" John said in an undertone.
"Not the Bar! The other one." Rodney looked up at what was probably a shocked expression on John's face. He lowered his fork with a slanted frown of disdain. "Don't tell me you're unaware it's already rigged."
~*~*~
Colonel Davis (though he'd never lose his Major Disaster nickname) had the best poker face John had ever seen. Though John was pretty sure he caught a smirk when he shook John's hand.
Settled: Davis had been on their side all along.
In the semicircle around John, the military brass and IOA officials had that collection of stiff-backed, flinty-eyed, nostril-flaring expressions he was all too familiar with: people who had to praise and reward someone they absolutely loathed. Once again John had defied them and come out on top. He stood at parade rest, not moving a muscle. He'd learned.
Fortunately he was too tired (too relieved, too grateful) to gloat, though it was hard not to glow with pride. All those broken promises. The year of Teyla being bullshitted by her so-called IOA "adviser"-oh no, she didn't need a lawyer-until John had sat in and asked pointed, revealing questions. The IOA had abandoned all pretense then and claimed there was no law to cover off-world immigration. Her case was dead on arrival until the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee had an unexpected attack of kindness and supported her petition. Rodney had claimed this was just political gamesmanship but as Doctor Jackson had put it, "No. Don't rule out that there are good people in the world."
Then his conversation in Woolsey's office just before John had taken his leave of absence: "People don't see what you're doing, but I do. I envy you, Sheppard. You're trailblazing an entirely new legal field."
He'd forgotten Woolsey was a lawyer.
On the other side of the SGC conference table, Colonel Carter grinned from ear to ear. Next to her, Teal'c raised his chin in warm acknowledgment. Rodney looked strange in a tie but he bounced on his heels as happily as he had that day they'd first left for Atlantis. Teyla smiled by the door with Torren beside her, clutching her hand. He'd missed preschool but John would damned if he'd be shut out of first grade.
General O'Neill himself pinned the JAG insignia on John's collar. He clapped John on the shoulder and voiced what everyone was thinking, "No idea how you did it."
"Me neither," John answered with complete honesty.
That second test had been a breeze. Not that anyone but Rodney could have known why.
It had been the definition of obscure, comprising only questions from the Milky Way galaxy with not a single one about Pegasus. Yet maybe only three people could have passed. It focused completely on worlds and cultures John had every reason to know well, because he'd either encountered them directly in his brief stint on an SGC gate team, or they were records Rodney, Elizabeth, and John had poured over trying to solve their problems with the Asurans, the Goa'uld spy, the Pegasus galaxy plague....
John almost regretted bothering to study. Almost. But he did have to know his stuff for his new job, and he didn't trust Rodney not to throw in a zinger or two, just to keep him on his toes.
So maybe he did want to impress the guy. Just a teensie bit.
At the reception afterward, Doctor Jackson approached and shook his hand in congratulations. "Sorry to miss the ceremony." He thumbed behind his shoulder. "Duty calls." He pulled John into a proud hug, pounding him on the back. He took the opportunity to murmur in John's ear, "You know, he really did believe you'd make it."
"Huh?"
John suddenly worried that the gig was up. Everyone had seen through their stunt.
"The Bar exam." Jackson nodded, exchanging a glance with Teyla across the room.
Aha. Jackson was the one she'd been confiding in. No wonder she was worried. Doctor Jackson never gave definitive answers; that would freak her out.
"McKay said you'd ace the Bar but that it wouldn't matter, because no one could pass the Intergalactic." Jackson's eyes narrowed at him. "I saw the test--actually, they had me score it." His eyebrows raised. "He's right. I couldn't have done it. How'd you manage?"
John shrugged. "Oh, you know. Always guess C."
It hadn't been multiple choice.
Jackson eyed him and drawled, "Yeah."
After more pleasantries, John escaped through SGC buffet grazers to the far corner where Rodney had collected several hors d'oeuvres cheese squares on little toothpicks. John sidled up and nudged him with an elbow. "So. What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"Please," Rodney rolled his eyes and said with his mouth full, "I have back ups to my back up plans. I've always planned on surviving to a ripe old age - unlike certain people I know."
John nodded amiably, bobbing his head. He breathed in through his teeth, shaking his head. "Still. Two-income households. That's extra strain. I might be off-world a lot."
Rodney chewed rapidly, betraying his anxiety. "Win your first case and then we'll talk about your so-called career."
"And if I don't win?"
The odds were stacked against him. All of them.
Even if the SGC eventually returned Atlantis to the Pegasus galaxy, it would do so without John in command. He'd known all three years he'd been taking those law classes. Known when he'd left Pegasus. Returning with Atlantis to save Earth meant giving up Atlantis, giving up his command. He'd done it anyways; would do it again.
But so long as they both had access to the Stargate, they had options. There was a bigger world out there. A bigger galaxy.
Having a law degree clutched in his fist somehow made John starry-eyed and aware that there was more potential out there.
He jostled Rodney's elbow. "So, looking for that cushy research job? Finally going for that Nobel Prize?" Because that's what Rodney would have to give up.
Rodney snorted. "Like I can publish." His eyes flicked over to John, sharp and assessing. "And a real scientist would never pass up the opportunity to learn more."
Yes! They were on the same page! Internally, John danced a jig. Rodney got it. Got him. Rodney would pull up roots and go, wherever John led. Though the military wasn't good at keeping workable teams together (the late General Hammond being a notable exception to the rule). John's future clouded over a moment.
"If I'm assigned to the Jaffa home world," John offered, thinking fast. "I'm sure a spouse could go with me...."
He didn't expect Rodney to start choking on the cheese. He had to pound Rodney on the back and hold out his palm for Rodney to spit the wet mass into his hand. John wrapped it in a napkin and wiped off. Ew. Nice response to his proposal there, though he supposed it had been a little sudden. Rodney stared up at him with big eyes.
"Vacations on P2X-37G. Boring off-world diplomatic missions. I'm offering you the universe here," John said with a confident smile and wide gesture.
John imagined Atlantis flying by itself to the Pegasus galaxy. No severed ties to this galaxy. Rodney and he stealing a Goa'uld mothership to chase it. Golly, gee whiz, who knew it would do that? It was a fantasy but he was free to dream. In the meantime, John had always been a practical man; just one who'd somehow lived an extraordinary life.
"Uh..." Rodney whimpered. "Yes ... ah, that would be nice." And he hated diplomatic missions. That was a resounding yes. "Didn't you... didn't you want, um, privacy?"
John tilted his head, considering. True, he didn't even like Teyla knowing. But if he was leaving this planet he didn't care. And he was going. Overnight, the Earth had grown too small.
"I'm the only Intergalactic Lawyer in the galaxy. Two galaxies. I think that defines job security."
"...okay," Rodney breathed. He looked around, examining John's hands, glancing down at his pockets.... "Is there a ring?"
"What?" John turned a blank look on him.
"Is there--oh my god, you do everything by the seat of your pants, don't you?" Rodney hissed.
John shrugged. It wasn't his fault he tended to think fast: side effect of a life of emergency planning.
A wedding on the Jaffa home world? He bet Teal'c would be willing to help. The new Jaffa capital, with its open doors to all the former slaves of the Goa'uld, was fast becoming the interplanetary Geneva, a perfect place to set up home base. Or there was a steady flow of refugees out of Kelowna if Rodney wanted a life with more modern creature comforts. Killer hot springs on that planet.
"Kelowna's nice this time of year," John suggested.
"If you don't mind naquadria radiation and early onset schizophrenia," Rodney sniped.
True. "P7S-441?"
"That's-okay, doable, and safe. So long as their sentinel works."
Or, hey-off Earth, the stargates were accessible to everyone. It didn't matter what planet, everywhere would be a short commute. "Or there's that little subtropical place with the weather control, whatsit-the Touchstone. Grass skirts? Toplessness?" Gay or not, Rodney liked boobs.
"Are we talking about honeymoon sites or...?"
"Honeymoon?" John said.
"Oh, for--" Rodney spluttered. Then sniffed, chin high. "I'm thinking of declining this ill-considered proposal."
"No, you're not." John breezed past his complaint. "What about P27-X22?" There was totally alien technology on P27-X22, stuff that even the Ancients had put in their museums.
"It's a desert!" Rodney argued.
"I mean for work, not to live there."
"What about Atlantis?" Rodney stared, finally getting it. For a genius, sometimes he could be slow on the uptake.
John folded his arms. "We left Atlantis four years ago, in the Pegasus Galaxy."
And it was true. An Atlantis Research Facility bobbing safely in the Pacific ocean was not the Atlantis expedition. It didn't have a stargate program, or off-world travel, or even a purpose beyond the cataloging of Ancient knowledge.
"You work for Area 52," John said for emphasis, glaring. "Not Atlantis. Not anymore."
"But the Ancient database...." Rodney pleaded with a whimper.
"You don't have to come with me," John admitted, readjusting his plans.
Disappointed, yeah. But he wouldn't, couldn't stay. Teyla's case would be his swan song before he blew this popsicle stand.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Damn it, Sheppard." He flung out an arm dramatically, startling nearby SGC personnel who glanced in his direction. It spoke volumes that they simply returned to their conversations. "You always do this! You force people to face hard truths and then pick the worst, riskiest -- and might I add most unpleasant! -- option. Then when nobody in their right mind would want to follow you and rationally hesitates, you turn around and volunteer to go it alone when obviously there's no possible way you could succeed without me, not to mention I would never, ever, let you." He sighed. "On top of that you're often annoyingly right - though don't you dare throw that in my face the next time you're wrong!" he concluded with an accusing pointer finger.
Rodney chewed his lip.
Then he added, in a quiet little voice, "And, uh. Good to have you back, Colonel."