Scars of Pegasus by audaxfemina
Title: Scars of Pegasus
Author: audaxfemina
Word Count: 420ish
Pairing: McShep, established.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: slashity slash slash. :)
Summary: Sometimes the only proof you have it's not a dream is you.
A/N: Mid-episode for The Return Part I. Loose interpretation of the challenge, I fear. Sorry.
Nevada was close enough that Rodney took every furlough he could manage and showed up like he owned John's apartment. Over a couple of six packs of Molson and a pizza born of the hearty debate about the one True Bacon, Rodney let it slip late one Friday night that the entire thing felt surreal, like waking up from a dream that was the best he'd ever had, and yet his worst nightmare. The only way he'd claimed that he knew it was real was the mark their expedition had left on him.
John knew those marks by heart. The lines on Rodney's arm had faded to thin white scars, and were a testament to the nightmare of the Genii.
The scar at McKay's hairline from the Jumper crash reminded that he had nearly drowned... it still starred in his night terrors.
The arrow wound he'd gotten and milked for all it was worth.
The gunshot wound that John had put there himself.
They each had their own scars, from worlds where they'd been chased back to the Gate, from bugs who didn't care about DEET, from Wraith that had given as much as they took. And yet they were different from the ones gained on Earth. How many men had seen an Iratus bug? How many had held off the Genii? How many civilians had fought as hard as PJs when the chips were down?
John's fingers lightly skimmed over the spot where he knew the still fading scar lay beneath Rodney's shirt, and looked up, meeting eyes as tumultuous as the Atlantean sky.
McKay twined his hand in John's black t-shirt, yanking the pilot forward until their lips met in a crushing kiss.
John laced their fingers together, knowing that once more, the fading scar that mirrored Rodney's own was lined up with its twin, as it had the night before they had come 'home'. Ronon's knife had been sharp. Despite McKay's squawking about unsanitary conditions, puerile rituals and being too drunk, four had shared both that knife and a promise to return to one another.
But the worst scar John and Rodney lived with was the loss of home and family. The loss of freedom to be with each other without fear of reprisal. It ran deep, slicing his heart with a pain that ached every mission without his team. Every time he turned his head to share the snark or the memories with someone who was a galaxy away, or might as well be. And John knew that would never show. It couldn't be shown.
And if seeing Rodney was like picking at an all too painful scab, Sheppard reasoned, sliding his other hand through Rodney's hair, Atlantis was one scar he never wanted to fade.
Author: audaxfemina
Word Count: 420ish
Pairing: McShep, established.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: slashity slash slash. :)
Summary: Sometimes the only proof you have it's not a dream is you.
A/N: Mid-episode for The Return Part I. Loose interpretation of the challenge, I fear. Sorry.
Nevada was close enough that Rodney took every furlough he could manage and showed up like he owned John's apartment. Over a couple of six packs of Molson and a pizza born of the hearty debate about the one True Bacon, Rodney let it slip late one Friday night that the entire thing felt surreal, like waking up from a dream that was the best he'd ever had, and yet his worst nightmare. The only way he'd claimed that he knew it was real was the mark their expedition had left on him.
John knew those marks by heart. The lines on Rodney's arm had faded to thin white scars, and were a testament to the nightmare of the Genii.
The scar at McKay's hairline from the Jumper crash reminded that he had nearly drowned... it still starred in his night terrors.
The arrow wound he'd gotten and milked for all it was worth.
The gunshot wound that John had put there himself.
They each had their own scars, from worlds where they'd been chased back to the Gate, from bugs who didn't care about DEET, from Wraith that had given as much as they took. And yet they were different from the ones gained on Earth. How many men had seen an Iratus bug? How many had held off the Genii? How many civilians had fought as hard as PJs when the chips were down?
John's fingers lightly skimmed over the spot where he knew the still fading scar lay beneath Rodney's shirt, and looked up, meeting eyes as tumultuous as the Atlantean sky.
McKay twined his hand in John's black t-shirt, yanking the pilot forward until their lips met in a crushing kiss.
John laced their fingers together, knowing that once more, the fading scar that mirrored Rodney's own was lined up with its twin, as it had the night before they had come 'home'. Ronon's knife had been sharp. Despite McKay's squawking about unsanitary conditions, puerile rituals and being too drunk, four had shared both that knife and a promise to return to one another.
But the worst scar John and Rodney lived with was the loss of home and family. The loss of freedom to be with each other without fear of reprisal. It ran deep, slicing his heart with a pain that ached every mission without his team. Every time he turned his head to share the snark or the memories with someone who was a galaxy away, or might as well be. And John knew that would never show. It couldn't be shown.
And if seeing Rodney was like picking at an all too painful scab, Sheppard reasoned, sliding his other hand through Rodney's hair, Atlantis was one scar he never wanted to fade.