How The Gallows Smile... 2/2
Title: How the Gallows Smile…
Part: 2/2
Rating: R
Word Count: 17617 total.
Genre: AU
Pairing: McShep
Warnings: Uhm, let's see. Violence and mentions of non-con.
Disclaimer:None of the characters belong to me; there is no profit being made from this piece. The title comes from The Distillers'
A/N: Thanks a lot to lastasalways for pushing me and helping me figure out minor plot issues (read as holes you could fly a plane through with space left over)and editing the crap I sent her. All mistakes left are mine, feel free to point them out to me if you catch them.
Joke Summary: Where Sheppard is in Military Prison and McKay has sold his sanity to the Military to save himself from gamers…
Actual Summary: It was clear to see who 7589 was. The wild hair was a dead give away to the main nuisance in his life at any given moment. It was statistically impossible for one man to be at the center of every problem in this Godforsaken complex and, yet, he was laying in the infirmary once more.
Part One
Rodney sighed softly as John's eyes slipped shut, signaling that he was safely logged back into the system. "Okay, right now he is in a room that resembles where the attack took place. I got it as close as I could, so when we log in, the memory should begin. I don't know where it'll start but…" He let out a sigh before shaking his head, "You ready, Teyla?"
She nodded her head, smiling softly at him. He let out another sigh before he began logging them in. He was actually surprised to open his eyes to see two Johns. "Huh, I thought we'd have to pull you out like the past two times."
"Yeah, well, I figured I didn't have to follow. It worked."
Rodney nodded and turned his attention toward an actually smiling John, who was waving at a petite woman sitting behind a nearly empty desk. "Good evening, John. Can I help you?"
"You leaving, Sherri?" John asked, smiling as he leaned against her desk.
She gave a short, high pitched laugh, running her bone thin fingers through her already disheveled hair before nodding, "I was already gone but I forgot my phone. I actually made it to my apartment before I realized. Do you need to see Colonel Gennings?"
"You're gonna have to start tying that phone to you, you know?" He shook his head, smiling at her, "Yeah, he said he had something to discuss with me and to come see him as soon as I could, so…"
"Well, I think he's still in. He said he would probably be in late when I left so go on in. He'll probably welcome the distraction from his pile of paperwork."
"Thanks Sherri, have a nice night."
"You too, John."
John watched her leave, smiling and waving at her until she was out of sight before turning to walk down the hallway to his C.O.'s office. They all watched as John's face creased in confusion, stopping and listening for a second before a strange sound repeated itself. Then he was moving quickly, opening the door without knocking, his mouth opened to say something, probably ask if everything was okay but he froze, his hand tense on the doorknob.
All they saw was the Colonel holding someone against the wall; everything else was darkened, nearly blacked out, memories were odd that way, never truly correct. John's rage filled voice broke Rodney out of his thoughts, almost making him jump. "Hey! Stop!"
He yanked the surprised Colonel off of a young teenage boy who seemed to be frozen with fear, scooting away from the Colonel as soon as he could. John's fist easily connected with Genning's face before the man could react, but that was it and the Colonel gave back exactly what he got, causing John to stagger forward then everything went black for a moment. Seconds of silence passed then the darkness was replaced with a blurry scene. Everything other than John was nothing but blotches of color.
As John pushed himself to his knees, hanging his head, things began to focus. The first thing was the Colonel's prone body; the only sound in the room was John's muttered, "oh fuck," then suddenly there was blood slipping down John's face as he touched the back of his head.
It took a few moments, then suddenly an airman walked into the room and just as suddenly the air was filled with yelling and John fell backwards, onto his ass and rested his head against the wall.
"See, I told you there was nothing here," their John muttered, his hands stuffed into his pockets as his head hung.
"That is not true, John. We now know-"
"Wait!" Rodney yelled and forced the scene to freeze, his eyes darting around the room.
"Dr. McKay, I detest being int-" Teyla began but Rodney was in no mood to listen to one of her lectures.
"Being interrupted, I know, I know. It's very rude. The fucking bat is missing."
"What?" John asked, jerking around to face him. "What bat?"
"The one that was in the glass case, it's missing!"
"What? It probably rolled under the desk or something. What the hell does it matter if a bat is missing?"
"No, look, the glass is over there, it would have rolled towards the wall if it rolled any where. Teyla, didn't they find wood in both the Colonel and John's head wounds?"
"What the hell does that matter?" John hissed, but Rodney ignored him, instead he watched as Teyla nodded her head slowly, hopefully catching onto where he was going.
"Of course they did. John, I don't think you did more than punch him. Oh my God, I'm a genius. I don't think they even bothered to investigate it since they had you there and the Colonel accused you once he finally woke up. And, plus, you basically confessed to it when you claimed that he had attacked that kid. Ronon has to find that kid and then you'll be cleared!"
"What?" John questioned, and maybe if Rodney wasn't feeling so proud of himself he might have noted the shocked tone to John's voice.
"You can't possibly be that stupid. Pilots have to have some sort of a brain, don't they? They wouldn't put idiots in their expensive toys. Put it together, John."
"Dr. McKay, that is enough!" Teyla barked, before gently resting her hand on John's shoulder. "John, what Dr. McKay is failing to say, is that it is highly probable that the young man is the one who truly attacked Colonel Gennings. You were most likely struck in the head as an accident with the Colonel's bat."
"Oh."
"Yes, oh," Rodney said, turning to beam at Teyla, "this means that John's conviction will be overturned, if your husband can find the kid. And hell, what self respecting D.A. would bring charges against a kid who was almost raped."
"I think I need to sit down," John mumbled as he stumbled backwards, resting against a wall.
"You're lying down," Teyla shot him a glare, and it seemed like a good idea to stop right there. He probably had already pissed her off tonight. "Okay, all right, just take a deep breath and I'll have us all logged out."
Rodney was getting tired to opening his eyes to the sight of the Warden glaring down at him. "Seriously, don't you have something better to do than stalk me?" He demanded as he stood up, only sparing a glance at Carson holding a waste basket under John's mouth. "Before you bother wasting your breath, yes, that test went well, but as you can see, there is some slight physical issues to fix since it is highly abnormal for a person to empty their stomach after being logged in for less than thirty minutes. So, if you will go and let me read the diagnostic, it might go a bit quicker."
He didn't even bother to see if the Warden left or not. He really didn't care, the diagnostic was looking promising. If he could adjust the visual connection correctly, then, hopefully, John wouldn't wake up puking.
Though, if he had his way, John would be free of this place before he had to be reconnected. Unfortunately, he rarely got his way without a nearly impossible amount of work, and even then, it was still a toss up on which way it would go. Unless it was scientific, then he had it from the beginning.
He looked up just in time to see Teyla placing a hand on John's forehead before whispering, "all will be well, John. I must go home now."
He jumped up almost instantly, dropping the laptop on the table. "I'm going with her. Carson, keep an eye on John."
Carson nodded but Rodney was pretty sure Carson would be hounding him for details tomorrow at lunch. Which was perfectly fine with him, he rather enjoyed boasting about his accomplishments and finding that someone was more than likely innocent was one hell of an accomplishment that even his sister would be proud of.
---
Ronon was already inside his apartment when he reached it, which would have been slightly discerning if he hadn't suddenly remembered that his wallet and ID was in his locker at the complex. He'd have to have Carson bring it to him later or it would be hell to get back in.
"Please tell me you have a folder of everyone connected to Colonel Gennings, because statistically…"
"I know the statistics, McKay." Ronon grunted, passing him a folder from the top of the pile. "The first thing I did was gather that information."
"Good, good. I knew Teyla wouldn't marry a complete idiot." He mumbled as he fell down onto his couch, instantly spreading the papers in the file across his table.
"Ronon, Dr. McKay noticed a bat missing from the memory. Was there any information concerning it?" Teyla questioned as she handed a cup of coffee to Rodney, studying the pictures laid out before her.
"Yeah, his insurance paid out a thousand for some baseball memorabilia." The man turned away from them for a second, digging through his… something that may have somehow been related to a briefcase in another life, possibly the prehistoric era, before producing a file and reading from it. "Some of cards and a signed bat. Claimed they were stolen from his office, was filed about a week after he was released from the hospital."
"That’s interesting." He mumbled, pushing at a piece of paper to reveal the Colonel's youngest son. "Wait, who is this kid?"
"The son's best friend at the time. From what I can gather, they were seen everywhere together until about two months after the Colonel was released then he distanced himself from him. Got involved in a lot of school activities, didn't have much time to spend with the Colonel's kid after that."
"That is the child the Colonel attacked, Ronon." Teyla said, her eyes locked on the picture, "Have you already spoken to him?"
"The parents refused to let me. Figured I'd talk to him after they calmed down. I can try to corner him tomorrow."
"Do not frighten the child, Ronon." Rodney watched as the giant of a man visibly deflated at Teyla's words.
"I wasn't planning on it." Ronon grumbled, gathering the papers back up.
"I wonder if he knows someone was convicted for what he did…" Rodney mumbled.
"Doesn't matter." Ronon said, literally falling down on Rodney's poor couch; it creaked and cracked and popped under the force.
"Of course it-"
"If he does? That make him a bad kid, McKay? Or a scared kid? What does it change? Nothing, so it doesn't matter."
---
The last time Rodney saw John logging out of his system was with everyone who'd fought to help him, surrounding him. He was glad he had fixed all the issues with John's system so he didn't have to watch the slender man puke again.
"You are being transferred, John." Teyla said, the first person to step closer to his bed with a huge smile.
"Why?"
"They're wrapping up a few loose ends before they release you." Rodney said, and he might actually be beaming at John.
"Releasing me?"
"Were you sleeping when we logged you out? Yes, releasing you. The convictions been overturned."
"Why?"
Rodney glared at him, crossing his arms before turning his glare towards Teyla, "You didn't tell him!"
"I believed it unwise to raise his hopes." Rodney wasn't going to question her defense even if it smelled of bullshit to him.
"Guys?" John croaked as he forced himself into a sitting position.
"Oh, oh yes. Forgot about you for a moment. The kid you saved? His name is Ryan, by the way; well, he confessed to attacking Colonel Asshole. The kid didn't use his brain so he figured you hadn't gotten in trouble. Actually, he's apparently having quite a few sessions with Teyla these days since he kept the bat with him, to hit Gennings with if he ever came near him again."
"I don't want the kid in trouble."
"This is also why I thought it would be better not to tell John. Do not worry; there will be no charges filed against Ryan since it can be viewed as self defense. As it has been explained to me, Ryan saw you stumbling after the first hit and figured you would not win a fight with Mr. Gennings. When he ran, he believed that you would be thought of as a victim of the same attacker. He deeply regrets that you were imprisoned for saving him."
"Why'd you log me out now instead of when I was free to go?"
"Because then you'd have to spend a few weeks in the hospital instead of a few weeks in a prison infirmary. I mean, when I designed the damn thing, it wasn't for continuous use. When I sold my soul to the U.S. Military, I was under the belief that it would be for day time use and they would be logged out for various events, such as sleep. They didn't like that, and now, as you can see with your shaking arms, you're a bit on the weak side."
---
Rodney wasn't happy to be woken by knocking on his door on his rare day off. So, he was glaring at the world in general when he opened the front door only to see Teyla and Ronon standing there, and John sitting in a wheel chair holding a cup holder full of what looked, and smelled, like coffee.
"Carson's released him," Ronon grunted as he began pushing John in, who was glaring at the man. "I got permission to tie him to this if he tried to get up." It should have seemed odd that Ronon made that sound like it could be a fun sport.
"Oh." Rodney mumbled, stepping out of the way before Ronon ran him over; he seemed like the kind of man who wouldn't stop just because someone was in the way. "Yeah, forgot. I need to watch you for any long-term side effects."
"Shouldn't Carson do that?" John asked, looking around, eyeing the odd things that Rodney had forgotten to put into the simulation of his apartment that he had put in John's reality.
"Yeah, he should, but he already spent his vacation time."
"You know," John said, turning his head to face Teyla, "I could have gotten a hotel room until I found an apartment."
"Shall I repeat what Carson said? If you do not agree to be constantly supervised until they can see no more side effects, you would be admitted into a hospital."
"I could just walk out of a hospital," John grumbled.
"And risk the chance of another seizure?" Teyla's hand pressed against John's shoulder.
"Seizure? When did he start having seizures?" Rodney demanded.
Ronon shrugged, taking a cup from John before sitting himself down on the couch, "Beckett thinks whoever was trying to fuck John up in the complex was doing it at the other facility as well."
"There were traces of an unknown drug in his system after he suffered his first seizure." Teyla answered, handing a cup to Rodney before his hands could start moving.
"And none of you thought I might need to know this?"
"Nope." Ronon grinned up at him until Teyla shot him a look.
"Great. And if someone is after a wheelchair bound John here, what am I going to do about that?"
"Ronon will be keeping an eye on the two of you until he solves it."
"I use to be a bodyguard."
"Yes, well, you look like a bodyguard." Rodney grumbled, giving Ronon an odd look, "So, seizures are due to someone doping John up? Any other side effects and why is he in a wheelchair?"
"Dr. Beckett does not wish for him to strain himself."
---
"So," Rodney mumbled, scratching his head as he looked around his rather dirty apartment. Teyla had explained it to him, some psycho babble about something or not. He really wasn't interested in wasting his time remembering the words for why he felt his apartment needed to be cleaned to have a guest who would be spending most of his time in bed, recuperating because one week was just not enough time in a hospital to recover from what basically equaled an induced medical coma, even if you added in the time spent in a prison infirmary.
Though, they didn't really have a choice. Well, he did, in all honesty, because he could have said 'fuck it, I don't care' and let them try to put John somewhere else that might be semi-safe but Ronon had been right. No one would think Rodney would be stashing him at his apartment. Why would he?
So, for a little while both of them would be under a very thin veil. Until whoever was desperately trying to kill John put the pieces together. Hopefully, by then, John would be well enough to actually move without that God forsaken wheelchair.
"Uhm." John mumbled back, aggravating Rodney a bit because what right did John have to be mumbling when he refused to finish acting the part and keep his eyes locked on his hands instead of taking in the coffee cups lining the counter that were probably growing and thick as molasses.
"Uh, I didn't have time to clean, not really anyways. I'm a very busy man and..."
"Don't worry about it, McKay." John mumbled before finally turning his face towards Rodney.
"Yes, well, I suggest not touching anything unless you're wearing a serious layer of protection because in your current state, anything could kill you, you know? And I'm not going to be yelled at by Carson because I need a maid." He let out a deep sigh, "Well, I'll call someone in tomorrow to clean up the brunt of it while Carson's over making sure your muscles work correctly."
"It's fine, McKay, really. You don't have to do anything. I don't usually get sick so..."
"Well, you aren't normally hooked up to my system for a year, basically in a coma and being fed through a tube. So, if you don't mind, we'll listen to Carson. Uhm, do you want to go to bed or watch TV or something. Carson said you'd be tired and Teyla said you passed out in the middle of the car ride." Rodney let his eyes fall down on John and tried really hard to stifle the gasp, to keep on rambling instead of stopping suddenly.
But there were deep bruises around the man's thin, defined neck. He'd known that someone had tried to suffocate John. Both Teyla and Carson had sat down and explained it to him; told him that a nurse had rushed into John's room and the man had rushed out, leaving John gasping for air. They even told him John's voice would be weak and rough for a few days, but knowing oppose to seeing was a different thing all together. Completely different because the sight of the bruising left his own throat hurting, feeling stripped and raw.
"Uhm, or maybe, maybe you'd like something to drink for... you know..." He watched as John just shook his head, hands falling down onto the wheels of the chair.
"No, nah. I just want to lay down if that's okay."
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Come on, I actually got the guest room cleaned... or, well, Teyla helped a lot. And Ronon. He threw a lot of the junk in there out. So, it should be comfortable."
"Thanks, McKay."
---
Rodney jerked awake when he heard a strangled scream. For a moment, he was able to convince himself that it was the TV in John's room, that everything was okay, and allow himself to slide back into the restful sleep but then he jerked awake again, realizing he had forgotten to move a working TV into there. His feet hit the ground before he even figured out what he planned on doing if someone was in his home, attacking a man who barely had the strength to sit up straight. It didn't really matter, he had to check no matter what so he grabbed his fucking umbrella because that was the only thing he owned that might work. He sure as hell wasn't about to use one of his laptops as a weapon.
And fuck, wasn't Ronon supposed to be keeping an eye out for this kind of shit? Wasn't he suppose to be making sure no one broke into his damn apartment. Hell, the whole reason of this insanity was because it was supposed to take the criminals a while to figure it out and Teyla guilt-tripped him into it. She gave him a look when he had instantly said no because it was different to help someone hooked up to his invention and to house someone who apparently has a hit against them.
Screw Teyla's looks and her 'I know you are a good person' bull. If he managed to beat off the attacker, he was shipping John off to live with Ronon and Teyla because at least those two had the skills to protect him. Hell, they probably had a bat to beat intruders off instead of his wimpy umbrella that the wind destroyed every time he used it.
And how the hell did someone by-pass his state of the art security system?
He stopped dead in his tracks, the umbrella held precariously above his head, when he slammed John's door open only to find no one in there. He wouldn't admit to anyone else that it took him a full minute to realize that not even John was in there. It took him another minute to realize that there was a light on in the bathroom, and, God, please let him be in there because Teyla could beat him into a bloody pulp with her pinky, and would if he managed to lose the spiky haired ex-major.
Despite his hopes that John was in the bathroom, he pushed the door open slowly with the tip of the umbrella and nearly screamed when he saw John bent over the damn toilet. "Oh my God, how did you get in here? Where's your chair?" He demanded instead of trying to figure out a decent, tactful way to ask about the scream.
There were no obvious signs of injury on John's trembling body or a break in so that meant the scream came from John. Probably a dream. He'd need to figure out how to ask about it later, needed to know the side effects. He needed to know if it effected his mind.
Or maybe he could pass that off to Carson and save himself the awkwardness. That's what he would do. Carson would know how to approach that with a sense of tact.
"Walked," John mumbled in response, leaning his head against the toilet seat then his whole body shook as he heaved, except it was dry and painful sounding. "Didn't eat enough apparently."
The last part was weak, tired and despite the small twinge in Rodney's gut, he was glad that nothing had managed to come out because he would have to help John back to bed, no matter what and it was better done without the God awful smell.
"You're not supposed to be walking. That's why that awful contraption known as a wheelchair is by your bed. Come on, up. I'll bring a trashcan in so you can dry heave into that. Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Would you mind if I moved to the couch?" John asked as he looked up at Rodney, his eyes red with either exhaustion or the dry puking, "So I can do something other than stare at the ceiling?"
"Nausea and insomnia, did Carson tell you if those were side effects of the pharmacy-in-a-bag Teyla brought for you?"
"Don't know, didn't ask. Haven't taken them either."
"Didn't take… Oh my God, stupidity is a side effect! For crying out loud, why haven't you taken what Carson gave you… of all the stupid, idiotic-"
"Relax McKay, I went to sleep. I forgot."
"You forgot? You forgot? That's worse than deliberately not taking it!"
"I went to sleep an hour after the last dose, McKay. I wasn't due for anymore until five hours later. I slept through it; I'm sure Dr. Beckett would approve of me getting rest."
"Fine, fine. Whatever. Let's get you to the couch so you can rot your brain out with television and get you your medication. Carson will be able to tell if the nausea and insomnia is a side effect of not taking the medicine or being hooked up to the system for that long. Or, oh hell, the damage done when the morons screwed around…"
"I'm not suffering from insomnia, McKay."
"You just said you were staring at the ceiling!"
"After I woke up because I didn't want to disturb you."
"But the scream…"
"I fell back to sleep, had a bad dream. That's it, McKay."
Rodney nodded his head and didn't plan on saying anything else except his mouth was already moving before he could stop it, "The dream, was it… did it…" A deep breath, then a sigh, it wasn't like he could stop now that he already started, "do you think it was caused by my system."
John turned to face him completely, leaning his back against the cool porcelain tub. "No, it didn't."
"But, the screa-"
"It brought the details back but that's it. A lot of things could have done the same. I got over it a long time ago, McKay."
"Obviously not, or you wouldn't have-"
"Protected a kid from a monster? I like to think I would have no matter what happened in my past."
Rodney nodded at that, finally reaching down to grab John. "Ronon says the kid is relatively okay thanks to you. I don't know if he told you or not, but apparently that was the first attempt so the kid was scared but not… anyways, he keeps a bat by his bed and a knife in his pocket but he didn't, he didn't become a statistic. Teyla talked to him, said he was a well adjusted person or something despite the need for a bat."
"That's good; I'm glad he's good."
"Obviously, you weren't a statistic either so, that's good as well, I guess. I mean, you mostly aren't one."
"Mostly?"
"You forgot to take your meds, that is not a sign of a well adjusted adult."
"Opposed to?"
Rodney gave him a look, something between a glare and a smirk which turned into a smile when John laughed, smiling widely. "Come on, let's get you to that couch. It's a decent one; I mean, no couch is really comfortable but this one is better than most."
---
"How's your throat feeling?" Carson asked as he manhandled John's head into another position, eyeing the bruises.
"Sore." John mumbled, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
"He was up trying to puke his lungs out last night," Rodney said, watching the way John's knuckles whitened around the cushion when Carson began to poke at the deep bruising.
"Well, then, you're lucky you can still talk, son. Any other symptoms I should know about?"
"Nope, doc." John said, turning his head a bit so he could smile down at Carson.
"Well, nothing else seems to be wrong then. Your strength should return steadily as long as you keep up with the medication and get enough rest. Don't over do it."
"Like, crawling to the bathroom in the middle of the night, per say?" Rodney asked, smirking when John glared at him.
"I didn't want to wake you up, McKay."
"Why do you keep calling McKay? My name is Rodney."
"Habit."
"Well, I guess it's better than you calling me Mr. McKay."
"I don't think I could keep a straight face if I called you mister."
"Boys." Carson said, bringing their attention to him. "How about we get John some food. He should be able to stomach some decent food now. Don't think I didn't notice the way you pushed your food around in the hospital. I honestly don't blame you; their food was worse than most. But I want you eating now, you were military, you know how important it is to keeping your strength up."
"Yes, sir."
"Now, I'm no sir, John. Now, I brought Italian. Nothing too spicy but not bland either."
---
John leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed as he eyed the room full of people. "Look, I can walk now so I can get my own room somewhere…"
"As if," Rodney barked; he was getting annoyed with repeating himself. Honestly, he wasn't sure why he was doing it now; he usually refused to wase his breath. Maybe it was because he knew it was due to John's stubborn head, rather than stupidity - though that could be argued. "You're not leaving until Ronon figures out who the hells trying to kill you. I refuse to have my time wasted, that includes time spent on you so, you stay. I'll have Teyla tie you down."
"As if she would."
"Ronon then. I know he would."
"Ronon will do no such thing, Rodney." Teyla spoke up, shooting him a small glare before turning it on Ronon who looked suitably subdued. "John, we ask you to stay here for a little longer, none of us wish to see you harmed farther."
Rodney couldn't stop the laugh when John pouted, actually pouted as if that would help his case anymore. As if. It may work on him a little bit, but Teyla seemed like the kind of woman who wouldn't let a child get away with that, much less a grown adult.
"I'm a trained soldier, Dr. Dex-"
"My name is Teyla, John. I do not find it a suitable sign of respect to use my surname. I consider you a friend and I hope you would consider me the same."
"Fine, Teyla." He cut the tone as soon as Teyla glared at him, which was smart of him. Because there was no need for Rodney to be having images of Teyla bending John over her knee. None at all. It was completely inappropriate. "I'm a trained soldier, Teyla. I know how to take care of myself."
"That may be so, but you will not be up to your full strength for months to come. Please allow us to assist you as your friends."
"Whatever," John mumbled as he moved to sit on the chair away from the rest of them until Ronon decided he wanted to sit and flopped down right in it. Rodney could almost swear he heard it crack under the force. He watched John turn to make his way towards the other end of the couch that Rodney was sitting on, watched the way his legs held the tiniest tremor as he walked, making it less than obvious that he really wasn't up to walking around or standing up for any amount of time. "So, where are we on my would-be killer?"
Ronon shrugged, leading forward as he pushed at the files that covered Rodney's coffee table. "Well, I think the Colonel hired him but I don't have any direct proof yet. I'll get it, though."
"Why would the Colonel want to kill me while I was connected to the system? He'd already gone scott-fucking-free when I was charged. I mean, no one would have known if he hadn't fucked with it while I was connected. You'd think he'd keep the attention off of me."
"Revenge," Ronon pointed out with a shrug.
"But I thought we'd decided that all I did was punch the fucker."
"That is true, John, but had you not interrupted him, it is most likely that the boy would not have had the courage to fight back. So, in retrospect, he could blame you for his handicaps."
"So, you think he blames me for the kid beating the shit out of him? Shouldn't he have thought about that before he attacked the kid?"
"Yes, it is an inappropriate conclusion, but people are not known for being logical in their anger."
"That's the truth," Rodney mumbled, "guilt too."
"Shut up, McKay." John hissed, "I thought I had gone crazy and nearly killed a guy."
"As if it's sane to feel guilty over that after what he tried to do…"
"Rodney, please, that is neither the issue at hand nor your business."
John smirked at him and he glared back. "So, Colonel Gennings is trying to have me killed because he's stuck at a desk. That's sane and completely reasonable."
"Do you think attempted murder ever has a sane and reasonable motive?"
"McKay," John groaned, rolling his eyes.
"All I have to do is find the link and I'll be able to find who exactly it was that was hired to kill you. He just got out on bail until the trail for the kid, so it shouldn't be too hard to track his finances." Ronon grumbled as he began picking up his files, "Just need to get into them."
"Try his secretary. He should have one and I bet you, between you wooing her and what he's charged with, she'll be more than willing to help you out."
"Ronon will be wooing no one." Teyla said strictly, raising her eyebrows as if in challenge.
"Well, not wooing, technically." John said, trying to fix it.
"I'll look into it," Ronon said, then corrected himself, probably trying to avoid the couch, "with out any wooing."
Rodney was sure Teyla had a torture device as a couch; that was the only reason a giant like Ronon would be cowed by a woman like her.
---
"So," John mumbled as he stumbled into the nearly dark living room, "why are you doing this?
"Doing what?" Rodney asked, looking up from the paper he was currently demolishing. The light caught the wet spikes of John's hair, dragging his eyes there instead of the lean face.
"Helping me?" He watched as John threw the wet towel over his shoulders, "I'm pretty sure you're not the decent, bleeding heart type."
"Uh," he mumbled, a bit distracted when John fell onto the couch directly beside him instead of at the opposite end like he usually did. "Teyla would beat me up?"
"We both know Teyla wouldn't lay a hand on you."
"Well, she could very well sic Ronon on me. And give me this disappointed look that works better than my own mother's ever did."
"Somehow, I think you'd get over it. You don't strike me as the kind of guy who really gives a damn."
"What do you want?"
"The truth."
"Oh, and what do you figure the truth is?" Rodney asked, sneered actually.
"That I started off as some pet project. Some urge that wasn't suppose to go anywhere other than that one moment."
"Oh, is that how you see it?"
"Mhm. And then you figured out something else."
"And what would that something else be?"
He wasn't expecting John to lean forward, to rest his hand on his thigh as he pressed his lips against Rodney's, smirking slightly before opening his lips.
He was, also, pretty sure John wasn't expecting him to pull back and ask, "will you call me Rodney, now?"
John laughed softly, leaning his forehead against Rodney's before muttering a soft, "Sure," right before Rodney kissed him back, slipping his hand to rest on John's back.
---
Rodney stumbled into his apartment with the bag of foodies that John had pouted for. By pout he meant stumble towards the door and proclaim that if Rodney didn't go, he would go himself. there might have been mumblings of self pity thrown in there about prisons and hospitals. Admitting that, though, by laughing at him about his pathetic face would mean opening himself up to the fact that he had given into it… actually had been unable to fight it; he was worse than Jeannie when she was five.
He expected to hear loud laughter coming from the general vicinity of the couch when he nearly landed on his face but it was uncomfortably quiet. "John?" He called, dropping the bag of junk food on the counter.
It took him a moment to realize there was a lump on his couch, curled up under a blanket. He was actually surprised that John didn't even jerk when Rodney touched his back, jus turned farther in towards the couch. "John?" He asked again, rubbing gently at the small of his back.
"Hmm," John mumbled out, barely turning to face him, instead, throwing an arm over his head, covering the visible ear and his eyes.
"I got the twenty pounds of junk food you demanded now you're sleeping instead of eating it."
"M' thanks." He watched as John stretched, his back arching, revealing his thin stomach and jutting hip bones before his back cracked, causing John to let out a low moan. "Sorry, took the medicine."
"Yeah, well, you can eat the hot food now and I'll shove the rest of the crap in your room so you can have a midnight snack when you're suppose to be sleeping."
"You know, if you'd stop fighting to keep me here you wouldn't have had to get me that."
"As if I had to do anything; I needed more Cheetos, that's the only reason I went." Rodney tossed the fast food onto John's lap before falling onto the other side of the couch with the said bag of chips. It wasn't even a toss, really, more of a gentle drop with a slight angle. "Anyways, Teyla would have me drive junk food to you. If I dared to tell her no, she'd come knocking on my door with Ronon behind her, cracking his knuckles."
"Baby."
"Cripple," he blurted out without thinking.
He was about to start a rambling apology until he heard John laughing. "This cripple could kick your ass any day. Put Halo on and I'll show you. Again."
"You have an unfair advantage, flyboy."
"Oh yeah? Chess then. Come on, get the board and I'll have you in teas."
Rodney laughed at the smirk that filled John's face, his eyebrows raised high into his forehead.
"You have no idea who you're messing with. You'll be begging for mercy before I'm done with you."
"As if, Rodney mumbled, shaking his head as he moved towards his desk, trying to remember which draw he'd thrown the chess board in. He honestly hadn't used it that much before; actually, he wasn't entirely sure when the last time he used it was. Had to be years ago.
"We could do something else," John mumbled from behind him, causing Rodney to jerk around to face him. "There were a lot of things I didn't get to do in there."
"You haven't even eaten your Jack in the Box junk…" Rodney started until John stepped closer, placing his cold hands on Rodney's hips.
"Mm, I like it better when I have to heat it up."
"That's disgusting." Rodney sneered, making a face at the thought of it and the smell it would cause. He pulled John close despite that though, made it so they were pressing up against each other.
"Well," John mumbled, leaning his face in closer, smirking down at Rodney, "I could go eat it now but I figure this would be more fun."
Rodney nodded his head in agreement, because, really John was right. "Shouldn't we head to the bedroom then?"
"Nope. I think the couch will be fun."
---
Rodney heard John yell at him right before he heard the sound of a gun going off. It took him a moment to decipher the sounds into words and by then John was repeating himself, pushing Rodney to the ground. "Damn it, McKay, get the fuck down and stay there!"
He went to grab John's wrist but the man was already gone, moving quickly, silently, through the dark living room. He had never been good at listening to orders, not when he didn't want to, so he climbed back to his knees, and looked over the edge of his overturned couch just in time to see John tackle the intruder, the fucking gunman.
The idiot tackled another idiot carrying a gun. He heard John grunt before he heard the gun connecting with John's face and, fuck, he must have hit his head when he'd fallen over the couch because that wasn't the way the sounds were suppose to be coming. They were supposed to come in order.
He grouped around the floor, looking for anything that would pose as a suitable weapon as he watched the intruder flip them over, as John, thankfully, knocked the gun out of both of their reach. His fingers wrapped around the leg of his shattered coffee table at the exact moment the man's fist connected with John's already battered face.
He really wasn't thinking when he got up and stumbled over to the two. If he was, he would have reached for his phone and called Ronon or Teyla or the God damn cops. But he wasn't thinking, so he didn't really take in the fact that John's eyes widened right before he brought the heavy wood down on the attacker's back, and it took him a moment to realize that he had fallen back because he had been kicked and that one of the howls of pain had been his.
He really didn't need to think after that because John took the opportunity and turned them both over so he was on top.
And then Ronon ruined the whole scene by bursting in with his own gun drawn. Or maybe he didn't ruin it, but Rodney wasn't thinking straight so at the moment, he was paying attention to the way the sweat dripped down John's face and the way the muscles in his arms bulged just right as he held the attacker down.
---
"You couldn't have made it five minutes earlier?" Rodney bitched as he held an icepack to his swollen knee.
"Sorry, McKay," Ronon mumbled, poking at John's multi-colored cheek as they waited for Carson to arrive.
The paramedics stood at the end of the room, glaring at the two. They really hadn't appreciated Rodney's snide comments about his own doctor coming, and he wasn't going to trust two kids who hadn't even gone through voodoo school. He really couldn't find it in him to be bothered about their feelings; both of them had signed their damn forms so there was no sane reason for them to still be here. So, he was glaring right back at them because his head hurt and Ronon had only given him a dishtowel to hold against the back of his head, which was apparently bleeding.
He was glad that Carson didn't bother to knock when he nearly ran into Rodney's apartment, it was very close to a high speed jog, because it amused him to see the two paramedics jump around to face him as he yelled, "What the hell happened here?"
"His would-be killer got caught. In my living room." Rodney barked, shooting a glare in John's general vicinity, "after our favorite moron here decided to take him on. After I hit my head on my destroyed coffee table. You all owe me a new coffee table."
Carson sighed, shaking his head, "we'll make sure it matches the rest of your furniture this time. Did you lose consciousness? Either of you?"
When both of them shook their heads, he sighed and placed his bag on the couch that Ronon had put the right way around again.
---
John wasn't really being a happy camper, perched on Rodney's couch, glaring at everyone as he held one ice pack to his face and another on Rodney's outstretched knee. He was actually pretty pissed. But Rodney put that down to being denied his sex since last night, no matter what position they tried, Rodney's knee just wouldn't behave. It was pretty damn hard to keep an erection when his knee kept shooting stabbing pains through his leg.
"So, did your cop friends give you any information?" John asked, taking the icepack from his face and giving it it's very own, special glare before nearly slamming it down on Rodney's knee to sit with the other one. Obviously, John was going to do his damnedest to have his way tonight.
"Lorne had him singing 'till the sun came up," Ronon grunted out, placing his now empty beer can on Rodney's brand new coffee table… which actually did match his god awful couch.
"He held no issue giving the name of his employer once he was offered a deal." Teyla spoke, sipping at her tea. Rodney was pretty sure he had seen her spike it, but he couldn't be certain and wasn't about to go accusing her off it. Her little pinky could break his knee cap. "Gennings will be charged with conspiracy and attempted murder."
"Did he bother to explain how he got into a highly secure facility or, you know, how he figured out how to screw up my system." Rodney grumbled, wiggling a bit as his ass began to fall asleep.
Teyla nodded, smiling at Rodney, "Apparently, the Warden owed him a favor so he assumed the job of a security guard. I believe the favor was related to a gambling debt so the Warden has lost his position."
"Awesome. At least something good came out of my busted knee."
"Oh, and catching the guy trying to kill me wasn't a good thing?" John asked, moving to lean closer to Rodney.
"Well, it was… of course but…"
"I was not finished. Do you wish to know how he knew the abilities of your system, Rodney?"
"Of course I do!"
"Do you recall when you had lost your ID badge? He placed a bug on the new one that was issued to you. I believe he had stolen your old one as well."
"I told everyone I hadn't lost it. No one believed me but…"
"We all believed it was misplaced on your desk, Rodney. Though, that is how he found out about the ability to invade a persons dream. He was listening while you explained it to me. I assume you forgot it on your desk so he did not know of our other conversations." Teyla laughed at him before turning to Ronon to speak to him. "It is an amazing ability, to be able to help people with this would be…"
"You know, I just figured out how to fix your knee," John whispered into his ear, his lips pressed against the sensitive skin there for a moment before his tongue darted out for a second, causing Rodney to shiver.
"Oh?"
"Mhm," John mumbled, nipping at his ear before continuing, "I figure I'll put a brace on the damn thing then…" He trailed off and Rodney could feel him smirking.
"Then?"
"Then I can ride you till you don't feel a damn thing."
Rodney's hand instantly jerked out to grip John's thigh, his fingers digging into the thickening flesh. Thank God he was putting on weight; there was nothing more unnerving than feeling rough bones digging into his fingers as he gripped John's hips.
"Well, I think that's enough talking and celebrating." Rodney blurted out, trying to smile at Ronon and Teyla, "I think John and I are going to head in early, rough night and all."
---
"So, I finally have everyone's permission to go and get my own place?" John asked, throwing his arm over the back of the couch, behind Rodney who just rolled his eyes.
"If you are inclined to do so," Teyla raised her eyebrows at John, responding in her usual cool tone.
"Yes, I feel inclined to do so." Rodney looked over to see John's eyebrows in challenge to her look, "I'm an old man; I deserve my own place. A nice house with a garage."
"Well, you're perfectly welcome to stay here until you find your picket fence." Rodney grouched, rolling his eyes. He was allowed to be annoyed with John.
He jerked his head to look at John directly when the man laughed at him, "Of course I am." The smug bastard said before leaning down to kiss him, "And you're perfectly welcome at my new house with its picket fence."
"You're an asshole."
"Yup."
The End
A/N: Oh God. I can't believe I actually finished it. I can't believe I got the first draft finished in a month or the fact that I actually finished a story before posting. Goodness, this is a nice feeling. Not such a nice feeling when it took me a few months to finish the editing process and it'll never be as perfect as I want but, hey, you know, I'm still taking it all for a win.
I also have no idea why this was written mainly in Rodney's POV. I mean, obviously, it works well for it but the plan was for Sheppard's POV.
The idea for this basically started out from a want of seeing John in military prison… and then I needed a way fro McKay to be there. So, it kind of grew from there. I fully expected this to stay in my incomplete folder like the other ten or so SGA stories that I started the same way. I can say that the length is close tow aht I imagined, but now I don't feel as if I did the universe/idea much justice. (Considering that the universe was created as I wrote it. If you asked for the physical description of Rodney's system all you're going to get is black and boxy. Though, I'm pretty sure I could give an indepth, completely unscientific description of how and why it works.
Major thanks go to Lastasalways who is an awesome bouncing board and plot kicker and did a quick read through for me.
Well, I hope you all enjoyed this. Thanks for reading!
Part: 2/2
Rating: R
Word Count: 17617 total.
Genre: AU
Pairing: McShep
Warnings: Uhm, let's see. Violence and mentions of non-con.
Disclaimer:None of the characters belong to me; there is no profit being made from this piece. The title comes from The Distillers'
A/N: Thanks a lot to lastasalways for pushing me and helping me figure out minor plot issues (read as holes you could fly a plane through with space left over)and editing the crap I sent her. All mistakes left are mine, feel free to point them out to me if you catch them.
Joke Summary: Where Sheppard is in Military Prison and McKay has sold his sanity to the Military to save himself from gamers…
Actual Summary: It was clear to see who 7589 was. The wild hair was a dead give away to the main nuisance in his life at any given moment. It was statistically impossible for one man to be at the center of every problem in this Godforsaken complex and, yet, he was laying in the infirmary once more.
Part One
Rodney sighed softly as John's eyes slipped shut, signaling that he was safely logged back into the system. "Okay, right now he is in a room that resembles where the attack took place. I got it as close as I could, so when we log in, the memory should begin. I don't know where it'll start but…" He let out a sigh before shaking his head, "You ready, Teyla?"
She nodded her head, smiling softly at him. He let out another sigh before he began logging them in. He was actually surprised to open his eyes to see two Johns. "Huh, I thought we'd have to pull you out like the past two times."
"Yeah, well, I figured I didn't have to follow. It worked."
Rodney nodded and turned his attention toward an actually smiling John, who was waving at a petite woman sitting behind a nearly empty desk. "Good evening, John. Can I help you?"
"You leaving, Sherri?" John asked, smiling as he leaned against her desk.
She gave a short, high pitched laugh, running her bone thin fingers through her already disheveled hair before nodding, "I was already gone but I forgot my phone. I actually made it to my apartment before I realized. Do you need to see Colonel Gennings?"
"You're gonna have to start tying that phone to you, you know?" He shook his head, smiling at her, "Yeah, he said he had something to discuss with me and to come see him as soon as I could, so…"
"Well, I think he's still in. He said he would probably be in late when I left so go on in. He'll probably welcome the distraction from his pile of paperwork."
"Thanks Sherri, have a nice night."
"You too, John."
John watched her leave, smiling and waving at her until she was out of sight before turning to walk down the hallway to his C.O.'s office. They all watched as John's face creased in confusion, stopping and listening for a second before a strange sound repeated itself. Then he was moving quickly, opening the door without knocking, his mouth opened to say something, probably ask if everything was okay but he froze, his hand tense on the doorknob.
All they saw was the Colonel holding someone against the wall; everything else was darkened, nearly blacked out, memories were odd that way, never truly correct. John's rage filled voice broke Rodney out of his thoughts, almost making him jump. "Hey! Stop!"
He yanked the surprised Colonel off of a young teenage boy who seemed to be frozen with fear, scooting away from the Colonel as soon as he could. John's fist easily connected with Genning's face before the man could react, but that was it and the Colonel gave back exactly what he got, causing John to stagger forward then everything went black for a moment. Seconds of silence passed then the darkness was replaced with a blurry scene. Everything other than John was nothing but blotches of color.
As John pushed himself to his knees, hanging his head, things began to focus. The first thing was the Colonel's prone body; the only sound in the room was John's muttered, "oh fuck," then suddenly there was blood slipping down John's face as he touched the back of his head.
It took a few moments, then suddenly an airman walked into the room and just as suddenly the air was filled with yelling and John fell backwards, onto his ass and rested his head against the wall.
"See, I told you there was nothing here," their John muttered, his hands stuffed into his pockets as his head hung.
"That is not true, John. We now know-"
"Wait!" Rodney yelled and forced the scene to freeze, his eyes darting around the room.
"Dr. McKay, I detest being int-" Teyla began but Rodney was in no mood to listen to one of her lectures.
"Being interrupted, I know, I know. It's very rude. The fucking bat is missing."
"What?" John asked, jerking around to face him. "What bat?"
"The one that was in the glass case, it's missing!"
"What? It probably rolled under the desk or something. What the hell does it matter if a bat is missing?"
"No, look, the glass is over there, it would have rolled towards the wall if it rolled any where. Teyla, didn't they find wood in both the Colonel and John's head wounds?"
"What the hell does that matter?" John hissed, but Rodney ignored him, instead he watched as Teyla nodded her head slowly, hopefully catching onto where he was going.
"Of course they did. John, I don't think you did more than punch him. Oh my God, I'm a genius. I don't think they even bothered to investigate it since they had you there and the Colonel accused you once he finally woke up. And, plus, you basically confessed to it when you claimed that he had attacked that kid. Ronon has to find that kid and then you'll be cleared!"
"What?" John questioned, and maybe if Rodney wasn't feeling so proud of himself he might have noted the shocked tone to John's voice.
"You can't possibly be that stupid. Pilots have to have some sort of a brain, don't they? They wouldn't put idiots in their expensive toys. Put it together, John."
"Dr. McKay, that is enough!" Teyla barked, before gently resting her hand on John's shoulder. "John, what Dr. McKay is failing to say, is that it is highly probable that the young man is the one who truly attacked Colonel Gennings. You were most likely struck in the head as an accident with the Colonel's bat."
"Oh."
"Yes, oh," Rodney said, turning to beam at Teyla, "this means that John's conviction will be overturned, if your husband can find the kid. And hell, what self respecting D.A. would bring charges against a kid who was almost raped."
"I think I need to sit down," John mumbled as he stumbled backwards, resting against a wall.
"You're lying down," Teyla shot him a glare, and it seemed like a good idea to stop right there. He probably had already pissed her off tonight. "Okay, all right, just take a deep breath and I'll have us all logged out."
Rodney was getting tired to opening his eyes to the sight of the Warden glaring down at him. "Seriously, don't you have something better to do than stalk me?" He demanded as he stood up, only sparing a glance at Carson holding a waste basket under John's mouth. "Before you bother wasting your breath, yes, that test went well, but as you can see, there is some slight physical issues to fix since it is highly abnormal for a person to empty their stomach after being logged in for less than thirty minutes. So, if you will go and let me read the diagnostic, it might go a bit quicker."
He didn't even bother to see if the Warden left or not. He really didn't care, the diagnostic was looking promising. If he could adjust the visual connection correctly, then, hopefully, John wouldn't wake up puking.
Though, if he had his way, John would be free of this place before he had to be reconnected. Unfortunately, he rarely got his way without a nearly impossible amount of work, and even then, it was still a toss up on which way it would go. Unless it was scientific, then he had it from the beginning.
He looked up just in time to see Teyla placing a hand on John's forehead before whispering, "all will be well, John. I must go home now."
He jumped up almost instantly, dropping the laptop on the table. "I'm going with her. Carson, keep an eye on John."
Carson nodded but Rodney was pretty sure Carson would be hounding him for details tomorrow at lunch. Which was perfectly fine with him, he rather enjoyed boasting about his accomplishments and finding that someone was more than likely innocent was one hell of an accomplishment that even his sister would be proud of.
---
Ronon was already inside his apartment when he reached it, which would have been slightly discerning if he hadn't suddenly remembered that his wallet and ID was in his locker at the complex. He'd have to have Carson bring it to him later or it would be hell to get back in.
"Please tell me you have a folder of everyone connected to Colonel Gennings, because statistically…"
"I know the statistics, McKay." Ronon grunted, passing him a folder from the top of the pile. "The first thing I did was gather that information."
"Good, good. I knew Teyla wouldn't marry a complete idiot." He mumbled as he fell down onto his couch, instantly spreading the papers in the file across his table.
"Ronon, Dr. McKay noticed a bat missing from the memory. Was there any information concerning it?" Teyla questioned as she handed a cup of coffee to Rodney, studying the pictures laid out before her.
"Yeah, his insurance paid out a thousand for some baseball memorabilia." The man turned away from them for a second, digging through his… something that may have somehow been related to a briefcase in another life, possibly the prehistoric era, before producing a file and reading from it. "Some of cards and a signed bat. Claimed they were stolen from his office, was filed about a week after he was released from the hospital."
"That’s interesting." He mumbled, pushing at a piece of paper to reveal the Colonel's youngest son. "Wait, who is this kid?"
"The son's best friend at the time. From what I can gather, they were seen everywhere together until about two months after the Colonel was released then he distanced himself from him. Got involved in a lot of school activities, didn't have much time to spend with the Colonel's kid after that."
"That is the child the Colonel attacked, Ronon." Teyla said, her eyes locked on the picture, "Have you already spoken to him?"
"The parents refused to let me. Figured I'd talk to him after they calmed down. I can try to corner him tomorrow."
"Do not frighten the child, Ronon." Rodney watched as the giant of a man visibly deflated at Teyla's words.
"I wasn't planning on it." Ronon grumbled, gathering the papers back up.
"I wonder if he knows someone was convicted for what he did…" Rodney mumbled.
"Doesn't matter." Ronon said, literally falling down on Rodney's poor couch; it creaked and cracked and popped under the force.
"Of course it-"
"If he does? That make him a bad kid, McKay? Or a scared kid? What does it change? Nothing, so it doesn't matter."
---
The last time Rodney saw John logging out of his system was with everyone who'd fought to help him, surrounding him. He was glad he had fixed all the issues with John's system so he didn't have to watch the slender man puke again.
"You are being transferred, John." Teyla said, the first person to step closer to his bed with a huge smile.
"Why?"
"They're wrapping up a few loose ends before they release you." Rodney said, and he might actually be beaming at John.
"Releasing me?"
"Were you sleeping when we logged you out? Yes, releasing you. The convictions been overturned."
"Why?"
Rodney glared at him, crossing his arms before turning his glare towards Teyla, "You didn't tell him!"
"I believed it unwise to raise his hopes." Rodney wasn't going to question her defense even if it smelled of bullshit to him.
"Guys?" John croaked as he forced himself into a sitting position.
"Oh, oh yes. Forgot about you for a moment. The kid you saved? His name is Ryan, by the way; well, he confessed to attacking Colonel Asshole. The kid didn't use his brain so he figured you hadn't gotten in trouble. Actually, he's apparently having quite a few sessions with Teyla these days since he kept the bat with him, to hit Gennings with if he ever came near him again."
"I don't want the kid in trouble."
"This is also why I thought it would be better not to tell John. Do not worry; there will be no charges filed against Ryan since it can be viewed as self defense. As it has been explained to me, Ryan saw you stumbling after the first hit and figured you would not win a fight with Mr. Gennings. When he ran, he believed that you would be thought of as a victim of the same attacker. He deeply regrets that you were imprisoned for saving him."
"Why'd you log me out now instead of when I was free to go?"
"Because then you'd have to spend a few weeks in the hospital instead of a few weeks in a prison infirmary. I mean, when I designed the damn thing, it wasn't for continuous use. When I sold my soul to the U.S. Military, I was under the belief that it would be for day time use and they would be logged out for various events, such as sleep. They didn't like that, and now, as you can see with your shaking arms, you're a bit on the weak side."
---
Rodney wasn't happy to be woken by knocking on his door on his rare day off. So, he was glaring at the world in general when he opened the front door only to see Teyla and Ronon standing there, and John sitting in a wheel chair holding a cup holder full of what looked, and smelled, like coffee.
"Carson's released him," Ronon grunted as he began pushing John in, who was glaring at the man. "I got permission to tie him to this if he tried to get up." It should have seemed odd that Ronon made that sound like it could be a fun sport.
"Oh." Rodney mumbled, stepping out of the way before Ronon ran him over; he seemed like the kind of man who wouldn't stop just because someone was in the way. "Yeah, forgot. I need to watch you for any long-term side effects."
"Shouldn't Carson do that?" John asked, looking around, eyeing the odd things that Rodney had forgotten to put into the simulation of his apartment that he had put in John's reality.
"Yeah, he should, but he already spent his vacation time."
"You know," John said, turning his head to face Teyla, "I could have gotten a hotel room until I found an apartment."
"Shall I repeat what Carson said? If you do not agree to be constantly supervised until they can see no more side effects, you would be admitted into a hospital."
"I could just walk out of a hospital," John grumbled.
"And risk the chance of another seizure?" Teyla's hand pressed against John's shoulder.
"Seizure? When did he start having seizures?" Rodney demanded.
Ronon shrugged, taking a cup from John before sitting himself down on the couch, "Beckett thinks whoever was trying to fuck John up in the complex was doing it at the other facility as well."
"There were traces of an unknown drug in his system after he suffered his first seizure." Teyla answered, handing a cup to Rodney before his hands could start moving.
"And none of you thought I might need to know this?"
"Nope." Ronon grinned up at him until Teyla shot him a look.
"Great. And if someone is after a wheelchair bound John here, what am I going to do about that?"
"Ronon will be keeping an eye on the two of you until he solves it."
"I use to be a bodyguard."
"Yes, well, you look like a bodyguard." Rodney grumbled, giving Ronon an odd look, "So, seizures are due to someone doping John up? Any other side effects and why is he in a wheelchair?"
"Dr. Beckett does not wish for him to strain himself."
---
"So," Rodney mumbled, scratching his head as he looked around his rather dirty apartment. Teyla had explained it to him, some psycho babble about something or not. He really wasn't interested in wasting his time remembering the words for why he felt his apartment needed to be cleaned to have a guest who would be spending most of his time in bed, recuperating because one week was just not enough time in a hospital to recover from what basically equaled an induced medical coma, even if you added in the time spent in a prison infirmary.
Though, they didn't really have a choice. Well, he did, in all honesty, because he could have said 'fuck it, I don't care' and let them try to put John somewhere else that might be semi-safe but Ronon had been right. No one would think Rodney would be stashing him at his apartment. Why would he?
So, for a little while both of them would be under a very thin veil. Until whoever was desperately trying to kill John put the pieces together. Hopefully, by then, John would be well enough to actually move without that God forsaken wheelchair.
"Uhm." John mumbled back, aggravating Rodney a bit because what right did John have to be mumbling when he refused to finish acting the part and keep his eyes locked on his hands instead of taking in the coffee cups lining the counter that were probably growing and thick as molasses.
"Uh, I didn't have time to clean, not really anyways. I'm a very busy man and..."
"Don't worry about it, McKay." John mumbled before finally turning his face towards Rodney.
"Yes, well, I suggest not touching anything unless you're wearing a serious layer of protection because in your current state, anything could kill you, you know? And I'm not going to be yelled at by Carson because I need a maid." He let out a deep sigh, "Well, I'll call someone in tomorrow to clean up the brunt of it while Carson's over making sure your muscles work correctly."
"It's fine, McKay, really. You don't have to do anything. I don't usually get sick so..."
"Well, you aren't normally hooked up to my system for a year, basically in a coma and being fed through a tube. So, if you don't mind, we'll listen to Carson. Uhm, do you want to go to bed or watch TV or something. Carson said you'd be tired and Teyla said you passed out in the middle of the car ride." Rodney let his eyes fall down on John and tried really hard to stifle the gasp, to keep on rambling instead of stopping suddenly.
But there were deep bruises around the man's thin, defined neck. He'd known that someone had tried to suffocate John. Both Teyla and Carson had sat down and explained it to him; told him that a nurse had rushed into John's room and the man had rushed out, leaving John gasping for air. They even told him John's voice would be weak and rough for a few days, but knowing oppose to seeing was a different thing all together. Completely different because the sight of the bruising left his own throat hurting, feeling stripped and raw.
"Uhm, or maybe, maybe you'd like something to drink for... you know..." He watched as John just shook his head, hands falling down onto the wheels of the chair.
"No, nah. I just want to lay down if that's okay."
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Come on, I actually got the guest room cleaned... or, well, Teyla helped a lot. And Ronon. He threw a lot of the junk in there out. So, it should be comfortable."
"Thanks, McKay."
---
Rodney jerked awake when he heard a strangled scream. For a moment, he was able to convince himself that it was the TV in John's room, that everything was okay, and allow himself to slide back into the restful sleep but then he jerked awake again, realizing he had forgotten to move a working TV into there. His feet hit the ground before he even figured out what he planned on doing if someone was in his home, attacking a man who barely had the strength to sit up straight. It didn't really matter, he had to check no matter what so he grabbed his fucking umbrella because that was the only thing he owned that might work. He sure as hell wasn't about to use one of his laptops as a weapon.
And fuck, wasn't Ronon supposed to be keeping an eye out for this kind of shit? Wasn't he suppose to be making sure no one broke into his damn apartment. Hell, the whole reason of this insanity was because it was supposed to take the criminals a while to figure it out and Teyla guilt-tripped him into it. She gave him a look when he had instantly said no because it was different to help someone hooked up to his invention and to house someone who apparently has a hit against them.
Screw Teyla's looks and her 'I know you are a good person' bull. If he managed to beat off the attacker, he was shipping John off to live with Ronon and Teyla because at least those two had the skills to protect him. Hell, they probably had a bat to beat intruders off instead of his wimpy umbrella that the wind destroyed every time he used it.
And how the hell did someone by-pass his state of the art security system?
He stopped dead in his tracks, the umbrella held precariously above his head, when he slammed John's door open only to find no one in there. He wouldn't admit to anyone else that it took him a full minute to realize that not even John was in there. It took him another minute to realize that there was a light on in the bathroom, and, God, please let him be in there because Teyla could beat him into a bloody pulp with her pinky, and would if he managed to lose the spiky haired ex-major.
Despite his hopes that John was in the bathroom, he pushed the door open slowly with the tip of the umbrella and nearly screamed when he saw John bent over the damn toilet. "Oh my God, how did you get in here? Where's your chair?" He demanded instead of trying to figure out a decent, tactful way to ask about the scream.
There were no obvious signs of injury on John's trembling body or a break in so that meant the scream came from John. Probably a dream. He'd need to figure out how to ask about it later, needed to know the side effects. He needed to know if it effected his mind.
Or maybe he could pass that off to Carson and save himself the awkwardness. That's what he would do. Carson would know how to approach that with a sense of tact.
"Walked," John mumbled in response, leaning his head against the toilet seat then his whole body shook as he heaved, except it was dry and painful sounding. "Didn't eat enough apparently."
The last part was weak, tired and despite the small twinge in Rodney's gut, he was glad that nothing had managed to come out because he would have to help John back to bed, no matter what and it was better done without the God awful smell.
"You're not supposed to be walking. That's why that awful contraption known as a wheelchair is by your bed. Come on, up. I'll bring a trashcan in so you can dry heave into that. Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Would you mind if I moved to the couch?" John asked as he looked up at Rodney, his eyes red with either exhaustion or the dry puking, "So I can do something other than stare at the ceiling?"
"Nausea and insomnia, did Carson tell you if those were side effects of the pharmacy-in-a-bag Teyla brought for you?"
"Don't know, didn't ask. Haven't taken them either."
"Didn't take… Oh my God, stupidity is a side effect! For crying out loud, why haven't you taken what Carson gave you… of all the stupid, idiotic-"
"Relax McKay, I went to sleep. I forgot."
"You forgot? You forgot? That's worse than deliberately not taking it!"
"I went to sleep an hour after the last dose, McKay. I wasn't due for anymore until five hours later. I slept through it; I'm sure Dr. Beckett would approve of me getting rest."
"Fine, fine. Whatever. Let's get you to the couch so you can rot your brain out with television and get you your medication. Carson will be able to tell if the nausea and insomnia is a side effect of not taking the medicine or being hooked up to the system for that long. Or, oh hell, the damage done when the morons screwed around…"
"I'm not suffering from insomnia, McKay."
"You just said you were staring at the ceiling!"
"After I woke up because I didn't want to disturb you."
"But the scream…"
"I fell back to sleep, had a bad dream. That's it, McKay."
Rodney nodded his head and didn't plan on saying anything else except his mouth was already moving before he could stop it, "The dream, was it… did it…" A deep breath, then a sigh, it wasn't like he could stop now that he already started, "do you think it was caused by my system."
John turned to face him completely, leaning his back against the cool porcelain tub. "No, it didn't."
"But, the screa-"
"It brought the details back but that's it. A lot of things could have done the same. I got over it a long time ago, McKay."
"Obviously not, or you wouldn't have-"
"Protected a kid from a monster? I like to think I would have no matter what happened in my past."
Rodney nodded at that, finally reaching down to grab John. "Ronon says the kid is relatively okay thanks to you. I don't know if he told you or not, but apparently that was the first attempt so the kid was scared but not… anyways, he keeps a bat by his bed and a knife in his pocket but he didn't, he didn't become a statistic. Teyla talked to him, said he was a well adjusted person or something despite the need for a bat."
"That's good; I'm glad he's good."
"Obviously, you weren't a statistic either so, that's good as well, I guess. I mean, you mostly aren't one."
"Mostly?"
"You forgot to take your meds, that is not a sign of a well adjusted adult."
"Opposed to?"
Rodney gave him a look, something between a glare and a smirk which turned into a smile when John laughed, smiling widely. "Come on, let's get you to that couch. It's a decent one; I mean, no couch is really comfortable but this one is better than most."
---
"How's your throat feeling?" Carson asked as he manhandled John's head into another position, eyeing the bruises.
"Sore." John mumbled, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
"He was up trying to puke his lungs out last night," Rodney said, watching the way John's knuckles whitened around the cushion when Carson began to poke at the deep bruising.
"Well, then, you're lucky you can still talk, son. Any other symptoms I should know about?"
"Nope, doc." John said, turning his head a bit so he could smile down at Carson.
"Well, nothing else seems to be wrong then. Your strength should return steadily as long as you keep up with the medication and get enough rest. Don't over do it."
"Like, crawling to the bathroom in the middle of the night, per say?" Rodney asked, smirking when John glared at him.
"I didn't want to wake you up, McKay."
"Why do you keep calling McKay? My name is Rodney."
"Habit."
"Well, I guess it's better than you calling me Mr. McKay."
"I don't think I could keep a straight face if I called you mister."
"Boys." Carson said, bringing their attention to him. "How about we get John some food. He should be able to stomach some decent food now. Don't think I didn't notice the way you pushed your food around in the hospital. I honestly don't blame you; their food was worse than most. But I want you eating now, you were military, you know how important it is to keeping your strength up."
"Yes, sir."
"Now, I'm no sir, John. Now, I brought Italian. Nothing too spicy but not bland either."
---
John leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed as he eyed the room full of people. "Look, I can walk now so I can get my own room somewhere…"
"As if," Rodney barked; he was getting annoyed with repeating himself. Honestly, he wasn't sure why he was doing it now; he usually refused to wase his breath. Maybe it was because he knew it was due to John's stubborn head, rather than stupidity - though that could be argued. "You're not leaving until Ronon figures out who the hells trying to kill you. I refuse to have my time wasted, that includes time spent on you so, you stay. I'll have Teyla tie you down."
"As if she would."
"Ronon then. I know he would."
"Ronon will do no such thing, Rodney." Teyla spoke up, shooting him a small glare before turning it on Ronon who looked suitably subdued. "John, we ask you to stay here for a little longer, none of us wish to see you harmed farther."
Rodney couldn't stop the laugh when John pouted, actually pouted as if that would help his case anymore. As if. It may work on him a little bit, but Teyla seemed like the kind of woman who wouldn't let a child get away with that, much less a grown adult.
"I'm a trained soldier, Dr. Dex-"
"My name is Teyla, John. I do not find it a suitable sign of respect to use my surname. I consider you a friend and I hope you would consider me the same."
"Fine, Teyla." He cut the tone as soon as Teyla glared at him, which was smart of him. Because there was no need for Rodney to be having images of Teyla bending John over her knee. None at all. It was completely inappropriate. "I'm a trained soldier, Teyla. I know how to take care of myself."
"That may be so, but you will not be up to your full strength for months to come. Please allow us to assist you as your friends."
"Whatever," John mumbled as he moved to sit on the chair away from the rest of them until Ronon decided he wanted to sit and flopped down right in it. Rodney could almost swear he heard it crack under the force. He watched John turn to make his way towards the other end of the couch that Rodney was sitting on, watched the way his legs held the tiniest tremor as he walked, making it less than obvious that he really wasn't up to walking around or standing up for any amount of time. "So, where are we on my would-be killer?"
Ronon shrugged, leading forward as he pushed at the files that covered Rodney's coffee table. "Well, I think the Colonel hired him but I don't have any direct proof yet. I'll get it, though."
"Why would the Colonel want to kill me while I was connected to the system? He'd already gone scott-fucking-free when I was charged. I mean, no one would have known if he hadn't fucked with it while I was connected. You'd think he'd keep the attention off of me."
"Revenge," Ronon pointed out with a shrug.
"But I thought we'd decided that all I did was punch the fucker."
"That is true, John, but had you not interrupted him, it is most likely that the boy would not have had the courage to fight back. So, in retrospect, he could blame you for his handicaps."
"So, you think he blames me for the kid beating the shit out of him? Shouldn't he have thought about that before he attacked the kid?"
"Yes, it is an inappropriate conclusion, but people are not known for being logical in their anger."
"That's the truth," Rodney mumbled, "guilt too."
"Shut up, McKay." John hissed, "I thought I had gone crazy and nearly killed a guy."
"As if it's sane to feel guilty over that after what he tried to do…"
"Rodney, please, that is neither the issue at hand nor your business."
John smirked at him and he glared back. "So, Colonel Gennings is trying to have me killed because he's stuck at a desk. That's sane and completely reasonable."
"Do you think attempted murder ever has a sane and reasonable motive?"
"McKay," John groaned, rolling his eyes.
"All I have to do is find the link and I'll be able to find who exactly it was that was hired to kill you. He just got out on bail until the trail for the kid, so it shouldn't be too hard to track his finances." Ronon grumbled as he began picking up his files, "Just need to get into them."
"Try his secretary. He should have one and I bet you, between you wooing her and what he's charged with, she'll be more than willing to help you out."
"Ronon will be wooing no one." Teyla said strictly, raising her eyebrows as if in challenge.
"Well, not wooing, technically." John said, trying to fix it.
"I'll look into it," Ronon said, then corrected himself, probably trying to avoid the couch, "with out any wooing."
Rodney was sure Teyla had a torture device as a couch; that was the only reason a giant like Ronon would be cowed by a woman like her.
---
"So," John mumbled as he stumbled into the nearly dark living room, "why are you doing this?
"Doing what?" Rodney asked, looking up from the paper he was currently demolishing. The light caught the wet spikes of John's hair, dragging his eyes there instead of the lean face.
"Helping me?" He watched as John threw the wet towel over his shoulders, "I'm pretty sure you're not the decent, bleeding heart type."
"Uh," he mumbled, a bit distracted when John fell onto the couch directly beside him instead of at the opposite end like he usually did. "Teyla would beat me up?"
"We both know Teyla wouldn't lay a hand on you."
"Well, she could very well sic Ronon on me. And give me this disappointed look that works better than my own mother's ever did."
"Somehow, I think you'd get over it. You don't strike me as the kind of guy who really gives a damn."
"What do you want?"
"The truth."
"Oh, and what do you figure the truth is?" Rodney asked, sneered actually.
"That I started off as some pet project. Some urge that wasn't suppose to go anywhere other than that one moment."
"Oh, is that how you see it?"
"Mhm. And then you figured out something else."
"And what would that something else be?"
He wasn't expecting John to lean forward, to rest his hand on his thigh as he pressed his lips against Rodney's, smirking slightly before opening his lips.
He was, also, pretty sure John wasn't expecting him to pull back and ask, "will you call me Rodney, now?"
John laughed softly, leaning his forehead against Rodney's before muttering a soft, "Sure," right before Rodney kissed him back, slipping his hand to rest on John's back.
---
Rodney stumbled into his apartment with the bag of foodies that John had pouted for. By pout he meant stumble towards the door and proclaim that if Rodney didn't go, he would go himself. there might have been mumblings of self pity thrown in there about prisons and hospitals. Admitting that, though, by laughing at him about his pathetic face would mean opening himself up to the fact that he had given into it… actually had been unable to fight it; he was worse than Jeannie when she was five.
He expected to hear loud laughter coming from the general vicinity of the couch when he nearly landed on his face but it was uncomfortably quiet. "John?" He called, dropping the bag of junk food on the counter.
It took him a moment to realize there was a lump on his couch, curled up under a blanket. He was actually surprised that John didn't even jerk when Rodney touched his back, jus turned farther in towards the couch. "John?" He asked again, rubbing gently at the small of his back.
"Hmm," John mumbled out, barely turning to face him, instead, throwing an arm over his head, covering the visible ear and his eyes.
"I got the twenty pounds of junk food you demanded now you're sleeping instead of eating it."
"M' thanks." He watched as John stretched, his back arching, revealing his thin stomach and jutting hip bones before his back cracked, causing John to let out a low moan. "Sorry, took the medicine."
"Yeah, well, you can eat the hot food now and I'll shove the rest of the crap in your room so you can have a midnight snack when you're suppose to be sleeping."
"You know, if you'd stop fighting to keep me here you wouldn't have had to get me that."
"As if I had to do anything; I needed more Cheetos, that's the only reason I went." Rodney tossed the fast food onto John's lap before falling onto the other side of the couch with the said bag of chips. It wasn't even a toss, really, more of a gentle drop with a slight angle. "Anyways, Teyla would have me drive junk food to you. If I dared to tell her no, she'd come knocking on my door with Ronon behind her, cracking his knuckles."
"Baby."
"Cripple," he blurted out without thinking.
He was about to start a rambling apology until he heard John laughing. "This cripple could kick your ass any day. Put Halo on and I'll show you. Again."
"You have an unfair advantage, flyboy."
"Oh yeah? Chess then. Come on, get the board and I'll have you in teas."
Rodney laughed at the smirk that filled John's face, his eyebrows raised high into his forehead.
"You have no idea who you're messing with. You'll be begging for mercy before I'm done with you."
"As if, Rodney mumbled, shaking his head as he moved towards his desk, trying to remember which draw he'd thrown the chess board in. He honestly hadn't used it that much before; actually, he wasn't entirely sure when the last time he used it was. Had to be years ago.
"We could do something else," John mumbled from behind him, causing Rodney to jerk around to face him. "There were a lot of things I didn't get to do in there."
"You haven't even eaten your Jack in the Box junk…" Rodney started until John stepped closer, placing his cold hands on Rodney's hips.
"Mm, I like it better when I have to heat it up."
"That's disgusting." Rodney sneered, making a face at the thought of it and the smell it would cause. He pulled John close despite that though, made it so they were pressing up against each other.
"Well," John mumbled, leaning his face in closer, smirking down at Rodney, "I could go eat it now but I figure this would be more fun."
Rodney nodded his head in agreement, because, really John was right. "Shouldn't we head to the bedroom then?"
"Nope. I think the couch will be fun."
---
Rodney heard John yell at him right before he heard the sound of a gun going off. It took him a moment to decipher the sounds into words and by then John was repeating himself, pushing Rodney to the ground. "Damn it, McKay, get the fuck down and stay there!"
He went to grab John's wrist but the man was already gone, moving quickly, silently, through the dark living room. He had never been good at listening to orders, not when he didn't want to, so he climbed back to his knees, and looked over the edge of his overturned couch just in time to see John tackle the intruder, the fucking gunman.
The idiot tackled another idiot carrying a gun. He heard John grunt before he heard the gun connecting with John's face and, fuck, he must have hit his head when he'd fallen over the couch because that wasn't the way the sounds were suppose to be coming. They were supposed to come in order.
He grouped around the floor, looking for anything that would pose as a suitable weapon as he watched the intruder flip them over, as John, thankfully, knocked the gun out of both of their reach. His fingers wrapped around the leg of his shattered coffee table at the exact moment the man's fist connected with John's already battered face.
He really wasn't thinking when he got up and stumbled over to the two. If he was, he would have reached for his phone and called Ronon or Teyla or the God damn cops. But he wasn't thinking, so he didn't really take in the fact that John's eyes widened right before he brought the heavy wood down on the attacker's back, and it took him a moment to realize that he had fallen back because he had been kicked and that one of the howls of pain had been his.
He really didn't need to think after that because John took the opportunity and turned them both over so he was on top.
And then Ronon ruined the whole scene by bursting in with his own gun drawn. Or maybe he didn't ruin it, but Rodney wasn't thinking straight so at the moment, he was paying attention to the way the sweat dripped down John's face and the way the muscles in his arms bulged just right as he held the attacker down.
---
"You couldn't have made it five minutes earlier?" Rodney bitched as he held an icepack to his swollen knee.
"Sorry, McKay," Ronon mumbled, poking at John's multi-colored cheek as they waited for Carson to arrive.
The paramedics stood at the end of the room, glaring at the two. They really hadn't appreciated Rodney's snide comments about his own doctor coming, and he wasn't going to trust two kids who hadn't even gone through voodoo school. He really couldn't find it in him to be bothered about their feelings; both of them had signed their damn forms so there was no sane reason for them to still be here. So, he was glaring right back at them because his head hurt and Ronon had only given him a dishtowel to hold against the back of his head, which was apparently bleeding.
He was glad that Carson didn't bother to knock when he nearly ran into Rodney's apartment, it was very close to a high speed jog, because it amused him to see the two paramedics jump around to face him as he yelled, "What the hell happened here?"
"His would-be killer got caught. In my living room." Rodney barked, shooting a glare in John's general vicinity, "after our favorite moron here decided to take him on. After I hit my head on my destroyed coffee table. You all owe me a new coffee table."
Carson sighed, shaking his head, "we'll make sure it matches the rest of your furniture this time. Did you lose consciousness? Either of you?"
When both of them shook their heads, he sighed and placed his bag on the couch that Ronon had put the right way around again.
---
John wasn't really being a happy camper, perched on Rodney's couch, glaring at everyone as he held one ice pack to his face and another on Rodney's outstretched knee. He was actually pretty pissed. But Rodney put that down to being denied his sex since last night, no matter what position they tried, Rodney's knee just wouldn't behave. It was pretty damn hard to keep an erection when his knee kept shooting stabbing pains through his leg.
"So, did your cop friends give you any information?" John asked, taking the icepack from his face and giving it it's very own, special glare before nearly slamming it down on Rodney's knee to sit with the other one. Obviously, John was going to do his damnedest to have his way tonight.
"Lorne had him singing 'till the sun came up," Ronon grunted out, placing his now empty beer can on Rodney's brand new coffee table… which actually did match his god awful couch.
"He held no issue giving the name of his employer once he was offered a deal." Teyla spoke, sipping at her tea. Rodney was pretty sure he had seen her spike it, but he couldn't be certain and wasn't about to go accusing her off it. Her little pinky could break his knee cap. "Gennings will be charged with conspiracy and attempted murder."
"Did he bother to explain how he got into a highly secure facility or, you know, how he figured out how to screw up my system." Rodney grumbled, wiggling a bit as his ass began to fall asleep.
Teyla nodded, smiling at Rodney, "Apparently, the Warden owed him a favor so he assumed the job of a security guard. I believe the favor was related to a gambling debt so the Warden has lost his position."
"Awesome. At least something good came out of my busted knee."
"Oh, and catching the guy trying to kill me wasn't a good thing?" John asked, moving to lean closer to Rodney.
"Well, it was… of course but…"
"I was not finished. Do you wish to know how he knew the abilities of your system, Rodney?"
"Of course I do!"
"Do you recall when you had lost your ID badge? He placed a bug on the new one that was issued to you. I believe he had stolen your old one as well."
"I told everyone I hadn't lost it. No one believed me but…"
"We all believed it was misplaced on your desk, Rodney. Though, that is how he found out about the ability to invade a persons dream. He was listening while you explained it to me. I assume you forgot it on your desk so he did not know of our other conversations." Teyla laughed at him before turning to Ronon to speak to him. "It is an amazing ability, to be able to help people with this would be…"
"You know, I just figured out how to fix your knee," John whispered into his ear, his lips pressed against the sensitive skin there for a moment before his tongue darted out for a second, causing Rodney to shiver.
"Oh?"
"Mhm," John mumbled, nipping at his ear before continuing, "I figure I'll put a brace on the damn thing then…" He trailed off and Rodney could feel him smirking.
"Then?"
"Then I can ride you till you don't feel a damn thing."
Rodney's hand instantly jerked out to grip John's thigh, his fingers digging into the thickening flesh. Thank God he was putting on weight; there was nothing more unnerving than feeling rough bones digging into his fingers as he gripped John's hips.
"Well, I think that's enough talking and celebrating." Rodney blurted out, trying to smile at Ronon and Teyla, "I think John and I are going to head in early, rough night and all."
---
"So, I finally have everyone's permission to go and get my own place?" John asked, throwing his arm over the back of the couch, behind Rodney who just rolled his eyes.
"If you are inclined to do so," Teyla raised her eyebrows at John, responding in her usual cool tone.
"Yes, I feel inclined to do so." Rodney looked over to see John's eyebrows in challenge to her look, "I'm an old man; I deserve my own place. A nice house with a garage."
"Well, you're perfectly welcome to stay here until you find your picket fence." Rodney grouched, rolling his eyes. He was allowed to be annoyed with John.
He jerked his head to look at John directly when the man laughed at him, "Of course I am." The smug bastard said before leaning down to kiss him, "And you're perfectly welcome at my new house with its picket fence."
"You're an asshole."
"Yup."
The End
A/N: Oh God. I can't believe I actually finished it. I can't believe I got the first draft finished in a month or the fact that I actually finished a story before posting. Goodness, this is a nice feeling. Not such a nice feeling when it took me a few months to finish the editing process and it'll never be as perfect as I want but, hey, you know, I'm still taking it all for a win.
I also have no idea why this was written mainly in Rodney's POV. I mean, obviously, it works well for it but the plan was for Sheppard's POV.
The idea for this basically started out from a want of seeing John in military prison… and then I needed a way fro McKay to be there. So, it kind of grew from there. I fully expected this to stay in my incomplete folder like the other ten or so SGA stories that I started the same way. I can say that the length is close tow aht I imagined, but now I don't feel as if I did the universe/idea much justice. (Considering that the universe was created as I wrote it. If you asked for the physical description of Rodney's system all you're going to get is black and boxy. Though, I'm pretty sure I could give an indepth, completely unscientific description of how and why it works.
Major thanks go to Lastasalways who is an awesome bouncing board and plot kicker and did a quick read through for me.
Well, I hope you all enjoyed this. Thanks for reading!