(no subject)
This fic has been a long time in coming. I even had someone beta it for me a while ago, but I still felt like something was missing. But now, as I read over it, I realize there's a lot of good stuff here and I can't just leave it alone. So here it is, all 3,614 words of it. Enjoy.
Shepwhore; or, John & Rodney, Year One
They hadn't been on Atlantis for long at all before John started to hear the nickname "Shepwhore" being tossed around--never very loudly, and never to his face, but with increasing frequency. It also didn't appear to be a malicious nickname; the times John overheard it, the speaker referred to him as one would the lovable family mutt while you were scratching it behind the ears. He'd heard some of the nicknames for Dr. McKay and Dr. Weir, so he wasn't worried. However, he was just about ready to corner someone to see where or how it had started. He was both amused and distressed that anyone--let alone everyone--on Atlantis thought he was getting as lucky as the rumors said.
*
The first time Rodney heard anyone in his lab refer to John Sheppard as "Major Shepwhore," he felt like he was going to be sick. It wasn't that Rodney didn't like him--the Major was proving entirely likeable, despite Rodney's best efforts otherwise. He unwittingly kept coming up with reasons to like him that Rodney couldn't ignore! He was like a dog who, despite all your efforts, still wasn't housebroken, but who continued to surprise you by being able to fetch your slippers and play dead with no training whatsoever. Anyway, the user of the nickname in this first case was Dr. Kavanaugh, so it probably meant nothing. The second time Rodney heard it, from Peter Grodin, he still felt like he was going to be sick, but by the fifteenth time, he was both curious and jealous. Sure, the man flirted with anything that crossed his path, but Rodney couldn't see how he even had enough time to be as lucky as the rumors said.
*
This wasn't quite what either of them had planned. John had envisioned himself sauntering nonchalantly in Rodney's lab after hours and "accidentally" catching Rodney still at work. Rodney had some vague ideas of both of them stomping through the Stargate on some stupid, simple mission that Markham and Stackhouse could have handled easily. Instead, they crossed paths in the hallway late one night. John had been sparring with Teyla; Rodney and Zelenka had been running simulations on ways to rewire the shield system so that it would run on the naquadah generators. But their footfalls matched up and suddenly they both found themselves in the commissary for a cup of coffee. They kept occupied with inconsequential banter for a bit, Rodney's patience wearing thin, but it was John who made the first move.
"Can I ask you something?"
Rodney fretted, his mind jumping to the second-most illogical thing he could think of: Lieutenant Ford had made him swear he wouldn't tell the Major who had purchased the slave girl for him on P3X-297, as it had resulted in an embarrassing situation where the Major had to--
"I'm not asking you to rat anyone out, but I just thought you might know. I've heard some of the men, some of the personnel, calling me 'The Shepwhore.' Do you have any idea where that might have started?" John tensed, surprised at himself. That hadn't been what he'd meant to say at all. The commissary was so quiet now, just the two of them; he'd been just about ready to ask Rodney--but now Sergeant Bates had come in, probably for coffee after his late-shift security watch, and John's mouth had taken the detour before his brain could catch up.
Rodney stared into his coffee cup, thinking the same kind of thoughts John had been, and said he didn't know.
*
Of course they fought. Every couple fought, even the ones whose love dared not speak its name for fear of being kicked out of the Air Force. There was so much that was wrong between them, so much that didn't fit, so much that neither one was willing to compromise on. John couldn't seem to stop flirting with anything and anyone he came across; Rodney couldn't lower his expectations past "perfect" and allow either of them to be human and make mistakes. There was a lot of yelling, on-world and off, that everyone else was just supposed to ignore or take as a side-effect of the two of them working in such close quarters with such clashing personalities. And the insults! These were never as public as the yelling--but then, they hurt more. They would start with the little things, like the way John wore his hair or the way Rodney snapped his fingers, and graduate to the screaming and swearing--Rodney's sexcapades at "home" on M5S-224 and John letting Colonel Sumner die and those goddamned Genii. Something would twist and snap then: John would mutter that Rodney was a bastard, Rodney would glare at him, and before either of them knew what had happened, it was all bed and boxers and Rodney breathing "Shepwhore!" into John's willing mouth.
*
Neither one of them would admit it, of course, because guys like them weren't supposed to care that deep, but the truth was that they were both scared of losing each other.
John was most afraid of death. Too many of the people he had cared for had died for him to view death with anything but contempt; at least in the Air Force you knew what you were dealing with. Missiles and other planes and mechanical failures--these were things you could train for, could take precautions against. But here... There were giant storms that threatened to tear apart the city. There were the goddamned Genii, who stabbed you in the back and then rematerialized everywhere you looked. There were unexpected alien viruses that killed people methodically and with no real warning. There were Wraith who shouldn't even be alive waiting on otherwise dead planets. In every single one of these situations, John could have lost Rodney. And he couldn't lose Rodney. He'd made the mistake of caring. He'd stopped caring in the Air Force, because losing people was part of the job description. But something about Rodney was different. Rodney was a scientist who could fix anything--his biggest success so far was the excellent job he'd done patching up the fragments of John's heart.
After all of these things were done, Rodney was even more frightened than John. He was scared to death of losing John, but not of losing him to death. John was the first person Rodney had ever felt this way about who had reciprocated his feelings. When it was just the two of them, even when they were arguing, it was perfect, something Rodney would cling to desperately if he didn't value his dignity. But here... Some of the city personnel had turned John's nickname into a verb. If Major Sheppard flirted with someone, it was said that this person had been "Shepwhored." Every mission, every goddamned mission, Ford brought back gossipy tales of another local someone or something that had been Shepwhored. What was Rodney supposed to do? He certainly couldn't complain to anyone, least of all John. He'd tried complaining to John. That got him nowhere, because John didn't see a problem with it. "They're just girls, Rodney," he'd say. Yeah, and Einstein was just a guy. Even if they didn't mean anything to John, they meant something to Rodney.
This was where the trouble began with Chaya. When the weapon went off above the planet, John knew that it was something they could not afford to pass up. Not only would Elizabeth never forgive him, but here was the one thing he'd been seeking all these long months! Safety! Finally, a place where there were no Wraith or Genii or crazy viruses. Somewhere safe...somewhere Rodney could be safe. And that's what John continued to tell himself as he got more and more wrapped up in Chaya. Rodney, however, didn't see it this way. Right from the start, all he saw was another beautiful alien princess waiting to be Shepwhored. He'd distrusted religious types ever since his college roommate, Phil, had converted, a born-again Christian. He had found God like Rodney had found Science; Rodney--who saw God as a convenient box for people to stand on and spout their own, otherwise unjustified opinions--had been less than happy with Phil's transformation and subsequent attempts to save Rodney's soul. Phil eventually dropped out of school entirely to be a missionary to some terrible little African nation. To see Chaya denying them this weapon on a religious basis rubbed him the wrong way entirely. To see John falling for her act was worse. To see John falling for her was worst of all. Ford didn't need to bring back tales this time, because everyone could see for themselves when John brought her back to Atlantis.
Rodney confronted John late at night. They both avoided saying the important things, because to say these now would only make things worse. How could John explain that all he wanted was somewhere for Rodney to be safe? How could Rodney explain that all he wanted was to be able to trust John with other people? Instead they volleyed accusations about what Chaya was or wasn't, how safe she was, if they could trust her.
Rather than admit that they were frightened of losing each other, they both let go.
After Chaya dissipated, when John had gone after her in the jumper, Grodin made his usual remark out of the corner of his mouth about how this sort of thing was only to be expected, Rodney bit back his insult and swore that this was over.
*
The expedition to Dagan had been going so well. The locals had cooperated, the search had gone smoothly, and one of the female team leaders had even taken a liking to Rodney. John shouldn't couldn't wouldn't admit to being upset and jealous, so he offered a little friendly advice. They'd seemed to hit it off--not like John and Rodney had, but he was trying not to think about that. Now look who was the manwhore! Although "McWhore" didn't have the same ring to it as John's nickname did; it sounded like the kind of cheap woman you'd pick up outside a burger joint. Maybe she was the prize in your Very Happy Meal. But of course, the goddamned Genii had to show up. Kolya was screaming at Rodney to put the pieces on the puzzle the right way and Rodney was panicking in his typical Rodney way.
"We're going to die, aren't we," Ford murmured.
John elbowed him in the ribs. "Of course not! Rodney can do this, no problem."
They watched as Rodney fretted over the pieces. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" Ford asked. A Genii soldier slumped to the floor, dead.
At this point, Kolya called upon John to solve the puzzle or lose his life.
Afterwards, Rodney said he'd realized, seeing John come up with the answer to the puzzle, what a team they'd been, both for this mission and for the time they'd been together. John said he'd realized, seeing the tears in Rodney's eyes at the thought of losing him, how much they'd both really cared. Ford, who was expected to ignore this sort of thing, just rolled his eyes.
*
Although Lieutenant Ford had told all the personnel that their video messages home would be private, there was one that he felt it was necessary to show to Major Sheppard. After watching Kavanaugh's video, John headed straight to the lab. Yes, everyone was busy with the impending Wraith attack, but something like this needed to be taken care of now. He grabbed Kavanaugh by the collar of his lab coat and dragged him out into the hallway.
"Major!" Kavanaugh sputtered. "What is going on?"
Rodney stormed out of the lab, obviously having just pulled himself away from something he considered far more important than resolving some minor dispute between two people who ought to be able to--well, at least John ought to be able to keep control of himself. "Major Sheppard, what the hell are you doing?"
John didn't turn to face Rodney when he answered, "This asshole--"
Against all odds, Kavanaugh started to smirk. "I take it the Major is upset with my message home--which, might I add, Lieutenant Ford assured me would be private!"
"What was in his message?" Rodney tried to keep the look of horror of his face. Could Kavanaugh have known about--
Kavanaugh chuckled, a disheartening sound. "Can't you guess? What does the Major have to be upset with me about except for my harshly honest views of my superiors?"
Up to this point, Rodney had kept a pretty good handle on his panic. Although John wasn't one to overreact, he'd told himself that John was just overreacting and this was all just a big misunderstanding. But the pieces fell together: Sheppard's anger, Kavanaugh's smirk, everything. Kavanaugh knew. Scratch that--it didn't matter what Kavanaugh knew, it was what he did with what he knew. Rodney was sure that a lot of people knew by now, or should have guessed if they didn't know. There were just some things you couldn't be subtle about; sex, sadly, was one of them. The poor soldier in the room next door to John had actually gone to Elizabeth to insist--politely, of course--that his room be changed to a "more quiet" part of the city. Elizabeth had called John in to the meeting and stared at him with one eyebrow raised in that disbelieving "I know what's going on here" look, but had granted the boy's request. So Kavanaugh knew. But to send it home in a message that was no doubt to General O'Neill--or Colonel Carter!
Rodney had Kavanaugh against the wall in no time at all. "Listen, I have had enough of you. You are a selfish, jealous, petty little man and I am sick of your self-serving antics! If you were half as brilliant as you think you are, you'd realize that there are things more important to this mission than your fragile little ego and your malnourished libido. If you think for one second that Major Sheppard and I--"
It was at this point that John began to cringe. Rodney had been doing so well! But perhaps he should have explained his beef with Kavanaugh a little more clearly. Rodney had just gotten to the part where he explained that it was none of Stargate Command's concern--or Dr. Kavanaugh's, for that matter--what he and "Major Shepwhore" did on their own time when John decided they'd all heard enough. An uppercut to the jaw took Kavanaugh out.
Rodney wheeled on him. "What was that?!"
"Rodney," John hissed at him, "His video home was a list of his complaints against Dr. Weir!"
Rodney's eyes widened. "Oh no. What have I done?"
Each of them grabbed a leg and dragged Kavanaugh's unconscious body down to the infirmary. When they got there, they tossed the body on the table and flagged down Dr. Beckett.
"We need a favor," John began tentatively. They'd discussed this on the way to the infirmary; it had seemed more important than keeping Kavanaugh's head from bouncing all the way down the stairs.
"My god! What happened to him?" Carson said, startled.
"He fell down the stairs," Rodney said, just at the same time as John said, "He got in a fight." They looked at each other. "He got in a fight on the stairs," Rodney amended quickly.
Carson glanced between the two of them. This was not a good way to start this.
"Okay, Doc, we'll level with you," John said with a sigh. "Dr. Kavanaugh was working in the lab and he came across something classified."
"Something he didn't have clearance for," Rodney added, trying to be helpful.
"And he had to be beat up to prevent him from getting this information." Carson's voice dripped skepticism.
"No," John corrected, "He actually managed to get hold of this, this--"
"This classified information," Rodney cut in, "And we tried to explain to him that it was classified and that it was vital to the survival of the city that he not know it, but, well--"
"You know how Dr. Kavanaugh is," John cut back in. "Anyway, this is really sensitive information, so we knocked him out and brought him here."
"Why here?"
"Because we need your help." Carson listened as they explained their flimsy plan: he had to give Kavanaugh some kind of drug that would cause him to forget this whole "classified information" mess.
"Major, I don't know if there is a drug like the one you're describing. And even if there was, do you really think it's wise to be drugging integral members of your staff right before a Wraith invasion?"
"'Integral'?! Carson, have you ever talked to Kavanaugh? At all?" Rodney said disbelievingly.
John tried to smooth things over, all the while wishing that they'd had some better plan. If only Rodney had kept his mouth shut! The whole thing sounded suspicious as hell, and really, only Rodney and Zelenka could finish each others' sentences and make it sound believable. He and Rodney just sounded like they were making it up as they went. Nevertheless, Carson agreed to try an Ancient drug he'd had in development; he made no promises about whether it would work or not, but at least he was trying.
They strapped Kavanaugh to the bed, just in case.
When Kavanaugh's eyes flew open, none of them knew what to expect. However, they could all safely say that they weren't expecting him to start giggling and attempting to flap his arms like a bird. When it was clear that he wasn't going to cause any harm, they unstrapped him from the bed.
Rodney glared at Carson. "What did the Ancients use this drug for? Getting high?"
"The Ancient database was a bit vague," Carson admitted with a shrug.
"Oh Maaaaaajor!" Kavanaugh called. John walked over to the bed, trying to recall if he had ever actually seen Kavanaugh smile before. Without any warning, Kavanaugh reached up, grabbed John, and pulled him in for a wet, sloppy kiss. John came up sputtering and spitting and wiping at his mouth frantically. "Shepwhore!" Kavanaugh murmured happily from the bed.
Carson's laughter was genuine, John's was not amused, and Rodney's sounded forced. Still, Lieutenant Ford got Kavanaugh's written permission to pull his video home, and all was well.
Rodney wouldn't kiss John for two full days afterwards. "Are you kidding?" he would say incredulously. "I know where your mouth has been!" Although, he thought indulgently, he bet Kavanaugh would have said the same thing if he'd known.
*
The look on Rodney's face when he knew John's plan with the 'jumper spoke for itself. As torn up as Elizabeth was, even she could see that something inside him was breaking. Why did John have to play the big hero? This wasn't like with Grodin; Grodin hadn't known he was going to die, not really. He hadn't made the choice. John had. John had left knowing full well that... that... that there wasn't really a choice. From everyone's point of view but Rodney's, there wasn't a choice. What had to be done had to be done, whether or not it broke Rodney into a billion little pieces. He didn't even have time to be broken up about it--a split second in the control room with a hurt and terrified look on his face was all he got. He was running on coffee and adrenaline and uppers from Carson; throw heartbreak into the mix and he could go for days.
John said that, when the Daedalus returned him to Atlantis, Elizabeth ran up to him and wrapped him in a giant hug. Rodney was far more ambiguous on John's return: he wasn't sure what to do with John, or to John. Part of him wanted to pin John to the wall and keep him there until both of them were spent. Another part of him wanted to hit John until he apologized for running off like that without even saying goodbye--he wasn't sure if John would even put up a fight. And another part of wanted just to curl up with him in bed and sleep like none of this had ever happened, like they'd wake up tomorrow and they'd go with Teyla and Ford gallivanting off after another phantom ZPM. They'd all come home and sit around joking in the debriefing room. They wouldn't need to sleep off and grieve away a Wraith invasion that had broken something in all of them--and even that seemed a daunting task.
All John wanted, when he got back, was to be held. Normally this sort of behaviour would have earned him some sarcastic remarks from Rodney, but today they both understood. Sometimes you just needed something solid to hold onto, a reassurance that all these broken pieces could be fixed. They lay in John's bed, clutching at each other, until they both fell asleep.
Rodney thought it was sort of funny that, for as public as John and Elizabeth's embrace had been, he hadn't heard anyone whispering that half-joking nickname of John's that Rodney didn't like to use, the one that implied his flirting with women and men and rocks and floors and ceilings. Was everyone giving him hero-space? Was it too sombre an occasion for jokes? But he thought about it: Ford was gone, Grodin was...gone, and Kavanaugh seemed unlikely to ever want to say the word "Shepwhore" again. Maybe it wasn't so funny after all.
Shepwhore; or, John & Rodney, Year One
They hadn't been on Atlantis for long at all before John started to hear the nickname "Shepwhore" being tossed around--never very loudly, and never to his face, but with increasing frequency. It also didn't appear to be a malicious nickname; the times John overheard it, the speaker referred to him as one would the lovable family mutt while you were scratching it behind the ears. He'd heard some of the nicknames for Dr. McKay and Dr. Weir, so he wasn't worried. However, he was just about ready to corner someone to see where or how it had started. He was both amused and distressed that anyone--let alone everyone--on Atlantis thought he was getting as lucky as the rumors said.
*
The first time Rodney heard anyone in his lab refer to John Sheppard as "Major Shepwhore," he felt like he was going to be sick. It wasn't that Rodney didn't like him--the Major was proving entirely likeable, despite Rodney's best efforts otherwise. He unwittingly kept coming up with reasons to like him that Rodney couldn't ignore! He was like a dog who, despite all your efforts, still wasn't housebroken, but who continued to surprise you by being able to fetch your slippers and play dead with no training whatsoever. Anyway, the user of the nickname in this first case was Dr. Kavanaugh, so it probably meant nothing. The second time Rodney heard it, from Peter Grodin, he still felt like he was going to be sick, but by the fifteenth time, he was both curious and jealous. Sure, the man flirted with anything that crossed his path, but Rodney couldn't see how he even had enough time to be as lucky as the rumors said.
*
This wasn't quite what either of them had planned. John had envisioned himself sauntering nonchalantly in Rodney's lab after hours and "accidentally" catching Rodney still at work. Rodney had some vague ideas of both of them stomping through the Stargate on some stupid, simple mission that Markham and Stackhouse could have handled easily. Instead, they crossed paths in the hallway late one night. John had been sparring with Teyla; Rodney and Zelenka had been running simulations on ways to rewire the shield system so that it would run on the naquadah generators. But their footfalls matched up and suddenly they both found themselves in the commissary for a cup of coffee. They kept occupied with inconsequential banter for a bit, Rodney's patience wearing thin, but it was John who made the first move.
"Can I ask you something?"
Rodney fretted, his mind jumping to the second-most illogical thing he could think of: Lieutenant Ford had made him swear he wouldn't tell the Major who had purchased the slave girl for him on P3X-297, as it had resulted in an embarrassing situation where the Major had to--
"I'm not asking you to rat anyone out, but I just thought you might know. I've heard some of the men, some of the personnel, calling me 'The Shepwhore.' Do you have any idea where that might have started?" John tensed, surprised at himself. That hadn't been what he'd meant to say at all. The commissary was so quiet now, just the two of them; he'd been just about ready to ask Rodney--but now Sergeant Bates had come in, probably for coffee after his late-shift security watch, and John's mouth had taken the detour before his brain could catch up.
Rodney stared into his coffee cup, thinking the same kind of thoughts John had been, and said he didn't know.
*
Of course they fought. Every couple fought, even the ones whose love dared not speak its name for fear of being kicked out of the Air Force. There was so much that was wrong between them, so much that didn't fit, so much that neither one was willing to compromise on. John couldn't seem to stop flirting with anything and anyone he came across; Rodney couldn't lower his expectations past "perfect" and allow either of them to be human and make mistakes. There was a lot of yelling, on-world and off, that everyone else was just supposed to ignore or take as a side-effect of the two of them working in such close quarters with such clashing personalities. And the insults! These were never as public as the yelling--but then, they hurt more. They would start with the little things, like the way John wore his hair or the way Rodney snapped his fingers, and graduate to the screaming and swearing--Rodney's sexcapades at "home" on M5S-224 and John letting Colonel Sumner die and those goddamned Genii. Something would twist and snap then: John would mutter that Rodney was a bastard, Rodney would glare at him, and before either of them knew what had happened, it was all bed and boxers and Rodney breathing "Shepwhore!" into John's willing mouth.
*
Neither one of them would admit it, of course, because guys like them weren't supposed to care that deep, but the truth was that they were both scared of losing each other.
John was most afraid of death. Too many of the people he had cared for had died for him to view death with anything but contempt; at least in the Air Force you knew what you were dealing with. Missiles and other planes and mechanical failures--these were things you could train for, could take precautions against. But here... There were giant storms that threatened to tear apart the city. There were the goddamned Genii, who stabbed you in the back and then rematerialized everywhere you looked. There were unexpected alien viruses that killed people methodically and with no real warning. There were Wraith who shouldn't even be alive waiting on otherwise dead planets. In every single one of these situations, John could have lost Rodney. And he couldn't lose Rodney. He'd made the mistake of caring. He'd stopped caring in the Air Force, because losing people was part of the job description. But something about Rodney was different. Rodney was a scientist who could fix anything--his biggest success so far was the excellent job he'd done patching up the fragments of John's heart.
After all of these things were done, Rodney was even more frightened than John. He was scared to death of losing John, but not of losing him to death. John was the first person Rodney had ever felt this way about who had reciprocated his feelings. When it was just the two of them, even when they were arguing, it was perfect, something Rodney would cling to desperately if he didn't value his dignity. But here... Some of the city personnel had turned John's nickname into a verb. If Major Sheppard flirted with someone, it was said that this person had been "Shepwhored." Every mission, every goddamned mission, Ford brought back gossipy tales of another local someone or something that had been Shepwhored. What was Rodney supposed to do? He certainly couldn't complain to anyone, least of all John. He'd tried complaining to John. That got him nowhere, because John didn't see a problem with it. "They're just girls, Rodney," he'd say. Yeah, and Einstein was just a guy. Even if they didn't mean anything to John, they meant something to Rodney.
This was where the trouble began with Chaya. When the weapon went off above the planet, John knew that it was something they could not afford to pass up. Not only would Elizabeth never forgive him, but here was the one thing he'd been seeking all these long months! Safety! Finally, a place where there were no Wraith or Genii or crazy viruses. Somewhere safe...somewhere Rodney could be safe. And that's what John continued to tell himself as he got more and more wrapped up in Chaya. Rodney, however, didn't see it this way. Right from the start, all he saw was another beautiful alien princess waiting to be Shepwhored. He'd distrusted religious types ever since his college roommate, Phil, had converted, a born-again Christian. He had found God like Rodney had found Science; Rodney--who saw God as a convenient box for people to stand on and spout their own, otherwise unjustified opinions--had been less than happy with Phil's transformation and subsequent attempts to save Rodney's soul. Phil eventually dropped out of school entirely to be a missionary to some terrible little African nation. To see Chaya denying them this weapon on a religious basis rubbed him the wrong way entirely. To see John falling for her act was worse. To see John falling for her was worst of all. Ford didn't need to bring back tales this time, because everyone could see for themselves when John brought her back to Atlantis.
Rodney confronted John late at night. They both avoided saying the important things, because to say these now would only make things worse. How could John explain that all he wanted was somewhere for Rodney to be safe? How could Rodney explain that all he wanted was to be able to trust John with other people? Instead they volleyed accusations about what Chaya was or wasn't, how safe she was, if they could trust her.
Rather than admit that they were frightened of losing each other, they both let go.
After Chaya dissipated, when John had gone after her in the jumper, Grodin made his usual remark out of the corner of his mouth about how this sort of thing was only to be expected, Rodney bit back his insult and swore that this was over.
*
The expedition to Dagan had been going so well. The locals had cooperated, the search had gone smoothly, and one of the female team leaders had even taken a liking to Rodney. John shouldn't couldn't wouldn't admit to being upset and jealous, so he offered a little friendly advice. They'd seemed to hit it off--not like John and Rodney had, but he was trying not to think about that. Now look who was the manwhore! Although "McWhore" didn't have the same ring to it as John's nickname did; it sounded like the kind of cheap woman you'd pick up outside a burger joint. Maybe she was the prize in your Very Happy Meal. But of course, the goddamned Genii had to show up. Kolya was screaming at Rodney to put the pieces on the puzzle the right way and Rodney was panicking in his typical Rodney way.
"We're going to die, aren't we," Ford murmured.
John elbowed him in the ribs. "Of course not! Rodney can do this, no problem."
They watched as Rodney fretted over the pieces. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" Ford asked. A Genii soldier slumped to the floor, dead.
At this point, Kolya called upon John to solve the puzzle or lose his life.
Afterwards, Rodney said he'd realized, seeing John come up with the answer to the puzzle, what a team they'd been, both for this mission and for the time they'd been together. John said he'd realized, seeing the tears in Rodney's eyes at the thought of losing him, how much they'd both really cared. Ford, who was expected to ignore this sort of thing, just rolled his eyes.
*
Although Lieutenant Ford had told all the personnel that their video messages home would be private, there was one that he felt it was necessary to show to Major Sheppard. After watching Kavanaugh's video, John headed straight to the lab. Yes, everyone was busy with the impending Wraith attack, but something like this needed to be taken care of now. He grabbed Kavanaugh by the collar of his lab coat and dragged him out into the hallway.
"Major!" Kavanaugh sputtered. "What is going on?"
Rodney stormed out of the lab, obviously having just pulled himself away from something he considered far more important than resolving some minor dispute between two people who ought to be able to--well, at least John ought to be able to keep control of himself. "Major Sheppard, what the hell are you doing?"
John didn't turn to face Rodney when he answered, "This asshole--"
Against all odds, Kavanaugh started to smirk. "I take it the Major is upset with my message home--which, might I add, Lieutenant Ford assured me would be private!"
"What was in his message?" Rodney tried to keep the look of horror of his face. Could Kavanaugh have known about--
Kavanaugh chuckled, a disheartening sound. "Can't you guess? What does the Major have to be upset with me about except for my harshly honest views of my superiors?"
Up to this point, Rodney had kept a pretty good handle on his panic. Although John wasn't one to overreact, he'd told himself that John was just overreacting and this was all just a big misunderstanding. But the pieces fell together: Sheppard's anger, Kavanaugh's smirk, everything. Kavanaugh knew. Scratch that--it didn't matter what Kavanaugh knew, it was what he did with what he knew. Rodney was sure that a lot of people knew by now, or should have guessed if they didn't know. There were just some things you couldn't be subtle about; sex, sadly, was one of them. The poor soldier in the room next door to John had actually gone to Elizabeth to insist--politely, of course--that his room be changed to a "more quiet" part of the city. Elizabeth had called John in to the meeting and stared at him with one eyebrow raised in that disbelieving "I know what's going on here" look, but had granted the boy's request. So Kavanaugh knew. But to send it home in a message that was no doubt to General O'Neill--or Colonel Carter!
Rodney had Kavanaugh against the wall in no time at all. "Listen, I have had enough of you. You are a selfish, jealous, petty little man and I am sick of your self-serving antics! If you were half as brilliant as you think you are, you'd realize that there are things more important to this mission than your fragile little ego and your malnourished libido. If you think for one second that Major Sheppard and I--"
It was at this point that John began to cringe. Rodney had been doing so well! But perhaps he should have explained his beef with Kavanaugh a little more clearly. Rodney had just gotten to the part where he explained that it was none of Stargate Command's concern--or Dr. Kavanaugh's, for that matter--what he and "Major Shepwhore" did on their own time when John decided they'd all heard enough. An uppercut to the jaw took Kavanaugh out.
Rodney wheeled on him. "What was that?!"
"Rodney," John hissed at him, "His video home was a list of his complaints against Dr. Weir!"
Rodney's eyes widened. "Oh no. What have I done?"
Each of them grabbed a leg and dragged Kavanaugh's unconscious body down to the infirmary. When they got there, they tossed the body on the table and flagged down Dr. Beckett.
"We need a favor," John began tentatively. They'd discussed this on the way to the infirmary; it had seemed more important than keeping Kavanaugh's head from bouncing all the way down the stairs.
"My god! What happened to him?" Carson said, startled.
"He fell down the stairs," Rodney said, just at the same time as John said, "He got in a fight." They looked at each other. "He got in a fight on the stairs," Rodney amended quickly.
Carson glanced between the two of them. This was not a good way to start this.
"Okay, Doc, we'll level with you," John said with a sigh. "Dr. Kavanaugh was working in the lab and he came across something classified."
"Something he didn't have clearance for," Rodney added, trying to be helpful.
"And he had to be beat up to prevent him from getting this information." Carson's voice dripped skepticism.
"No," John corrected, "He actually managed to get hold of this, this--"
"This classified information," Rodney cut in, "And we tried to explain to him that it was classified and that it was vital to the survival of the city that he not know it, but, well--"
"You know how Dr. Kavanaugh is," John cut back in. "Anyway, this is really sensitive information, so we knocked him out and brought him here."
"Why here?"
"Because we need your help." Carson listened as they explained their flimsy plan: he had to give Kavanaugh some kind of drug that would cause him to forget this whole "classified information" mess.
"Major, I don't know if there is a drug like the one you're describing. And even if there was, do you really think it's wise to be drugging integral members of your staff right before a Wraith invasion?"
"'Integral'?! Carson, have you ever talked to Kavanaugh? At all?" Rodney said disbelievingly.
John tried to smooth things over, all the while wishing that they'd had some better plan. If only Rodney had kept his mouth shut! The whole thing sounded suspicious as hell, and really, only Rodney and Zelenka could finish each others' sentences and make it sound believable. He and Rodney just sounded like they were making it up as they went. Nevertheless, Carson agreed to try an Ancient drug he'd had in development; he made no promises about whether it would work or not, but at least he was trying.
They strapped Kavanaugh to the bed, just in case.
When Kavanaugh's eyes flew open, none of them knew what to expect. However, they could all safely say that they weren't expecting him to start giggling and attempting to flap his arms like a bird. When it was clear that he wasn't going to cause any harm, they unstrapped him from the bed.
Rodney glared at Carson. "What did the Ancients use this drug for? Getting high?"
"The Ancient database was a bit vague," Carson admitted with a shrug.
"Oh Maaaaaajor!" Kavanaugh called. John walked over to the bed, trying to recall if he had ever actually seen Kavanaugh smile before. Without any warning, Kavanaugh reached up, grabbed John, and pulled him in for a wet, sloppy kiss. John came up sputtering and spitting and wiping at his mouth frantically. "Shepwhore!" Kavanaugh murmured happily from the bed.
Carson's laughter was genuine, John's was not amused, and Rodney's sounded forced. Still, Lieutenant Ford got Kavanaugh's written permission to pull his video home, and all was well.
Rodney wouldn't kiss John for two full days afterwards. "Are you kidding?" he would say incredulously. "I know where your mouth has been!" Although, he thought indulgently, he bet Kavanaugh would have said the same thing if he'd known.
*
The look on Rodney's face when he knew John's plan with the 'jumper spoke for itself. As torn up as Elizabeth was, even she could see that something inside him was breaking. Why did John have to play the big hero? This wasn't like with Grodin; Grodin hadn't known he was going to die, not really. He hadn't made the choice. John had. John had left knowing full well that... that... that there wasn't really a choice. From everyone's point of view but Rodney's, there wasn't a choice. What had to be done had to be done, whether or not it broke Rodney into a billion little pieces. He didn't even have time to be broken up about it--a split second in the control room with a hurt and terrified look on his face was all he got. He was running on coffee and adrenaline and uppers from Carson; throw heartbreak into the mix and he could go for days.
John said that, when the Daedalus returned him to Atlantis, Elizabeth ran up to him and wrapped him in a giant hug. Rodney was far more ambiguous on John's return: he wasn't sure what to do with John, or to John. Part of him wanted to pin John to the wall and keep him there until both of them were spent. Another part of him wanted to hit John until he apologized for running off like that without even saying goodbye--he wasn't sure if John would even put up a fight. And another part of wanted just to curl up with him in bed and sleep like none of this had ever happened, like they'd wake up tomorrow and they'd go with Teyla and Ford gallivanting off after another phantom ZPM. They'd all come home and sit around joking in the debriefing room. They wouldn't need to sleep off and grieve away a Wraith invasion that had broken something in all of them--and even that seemed a daunting task.
All John wanted, when he got back, was to be held. Normally this sort of behaviour would have earned him some sarcastic remarks from Rodney, but today they both understood. Sometimes you just needed something solid to hold onto, a reassurance that all these broken pieces could be fixed. They lay in John's bed, clutching at each other, until they both fell asleep.
Rodney thought it was sort of funny that, for as public as John and Elizabeth's embrace had been, he hadn't heard anyone whispering that half-joking nickname of John's that Rodney didn't like to use, the one that implied his flirting with women and men and rocks and floors and ceilings. Was everyone giving him hero-space? Was it too sombre an occasion for jokes? But he thought about it: Ford was gone, Grodin was...gone, and Kavanaugh seemed unlikely to ever want to say the word "Shepwhore" again. Maybe it wasn't so funny after all.