As Time, Unending (Ancient History Challenge) 1/3
As Time, Unending
Pairings: John/Rodney, Rodney/Elizabeth
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU Character Death
Summary: John is taken as a slave in the war with Geldar and gifted to the Princess Elizabeth. Rodney is the ship’s captain who loves him. Can they find happiness in a world torn by war and hate?
Words: 18,000+
Author’s Notes: While this is nominally set on Earth (at least in my head), I have chosen to not use Earth-bound countries that anyone would recognize for my fic. Instead, I have chosen to name my countries Hallona and Geldar. Any resemblance to the countries of Hallona and Geldar from the SGA episode ‘The Game’ is purely coincidental.
~~~~~
It was a pleasant day for walking. The sun was shining gently for the season and the breeze carried the scent of the trees that bloomed along the shore. John had walked far enough that he could no longer hear the good-natured cries and shouts of his companions as they enjoyed this rarest of days. He hadn’t meant to go so far, but the day had been so lovely that once he’d started walking he’d continued, enjoying his time alone.
He paused irresolutely, knowing he should return, and yet not wanting to give up his rare moment of peace. As if to entice him to stay, the waves washed up over the sand and tickled his toes before rushing back down across the sand to escape back to the sea. John shaded his face with a hand looking out over the water.
He loved the sea - the way the sunlight danced over the waves, the salt in the air, the way the sea could be peaceful and serene one day and wild and tempestuous the next. The sea stretched towards the horizon for as far as his eye could see. And somewhere, far on the other side, was Geldar.
John often wondered what Geldar was like. There were so many stories and rumors and half-truths, it was hard to know what was true and what was false anymore. He would like to go there someday and meet the people of Geldar so he could find out for himself. It had been so long since anyone from Hallona had visited Geldar and returned to tell the tale, no one knew anymore. It would be easy; it was only two days by fast ship across the sea that separated the two countries.
But John wouldn’t be going to Geldar anytime soon because Hallona had been at war with Geldar for as long as anyone could remember. John knew that it was a trade agreement gone wrong that had started the war. But it was so lost in their history that he supposed few people besides him knew it anymore.
The only thing that most of the common people of Hallona knew was that because of Geldar they lived in fear of their lives. And with good reason. The Geldar were a fierce enemy. They struck without warning and would take for slaves any who were unlucky enough to be caught in their path. It had been some days since they had been sighted along the shore, but the people of Hallona were cautious. All were cautious except for John who just longed for a moment to be alone with his thoughts.
Giving in to the impulse to tarry for just a bit longer, John took off his sandals and wriggled his toes in the sand. The day was warm, so he also removed his leather coat and laid it aside. He grinned when he stood barefoot with his arms bared to the sun, clad only in his tunic. If anyone came upon him now, they would take him for a simple peasant, or perhaps a fisherman, one of those who earned their living from the sea.
Soon enough his guard would realize that he was gone and they would track him down. He couldn’t even hope that they wouldn’t report him to his father. The guard were loyal to the king, not to the Sheppard. If anything happened to their charge, it would be their lives that were forfeit. It was selfish of him to not return to them, he knew, but it was so seldom that he found himself alone. He took his freedom where he could find it.
A distant shout drew John’s attention. At first he thought it was his guard discovering at last that he had slipped away from them. Then he heard the sounds of metal on metal and cries of pain. It was a sound he knew all too well for it was the sound of battle.
Without thought for his own safety, John raced back up the sandy shore, breath coming in great gulps; afraid of what he would find when he got there. He was not allowed that far.
He rounded a bend in the shore and discovered a line of men running toward him. He recognized the colors of his enemy - they wore the greys and blues of the army of Geldar. John was brave and he was a fair fighter in battle, but he had no weapons to defend himself and he was cut off from his guard. There was no dishonor in retreat in order to fight another day. He turned and broke into a run heading for the trees that lined the shore. If he could just get there before he was seen…. But it was too late, there was a shout and the men- more than he could hope to evade for long, were after him.
He thought they must be a raiding party, sent to wreak terror and havoc and to take slaves. They couldn’t be after John himself, there was no way they could know who John was or his importance to the people of Hallona. It was just his bad luck to run into the enemy when he was alone.
John ran as if his life depended on it, for indeed it did. He hoped to lose his pursuers in the thick of the wood. He knew the woods; he had grown up in them and they were as much home to him as his father’s royal house. He knew all the secret places and, if he could just get to one of those, he might live to tell his story. If he could evade them long enough perhaps his own guard would find him.
But there were too many of the enemy soldiers. They pursued him like hounds on the hunt. They were not stealthy trackers - they crashed through the underbrush making enough noise to warn all of their presence and they called out to one another at any sign of him. They didn’t need to be stealthy though. They had numbers on their side. Soon they had John trapped, circled around with no escape possible.
They circled around him, drawing in slowly until he was hemmed in all sides. Determined not to let them win their prize so easily, John threw himself at the men surrounding him. He struck one man in the face. The man fell, spitting blood. John took advantage of the man’s mistake. He tried to slip through the opening, but another threw himself at John. They crashed together and went rolling, limbs tangled. John kicked out and heard an, ‘oof,’ as he struck softness. He pushed himself up and another grabbed him from behind. He pushed aside the despair that threatened to overwhelm knowing there were too many soldiers; he could not continue fighting forever. Already he could feel his strength flagging.
The arms around his middle tightened and the soldier behind him grunted in vicious satisfaction. John threw his head back as hard as he could and felt himself connect with a thud. The arms around him loosened.
John grabbed the arm of the man holding him. He twisted it around until he heard a snap. He shoved the soldier into those advancing on him, scattering them. He thought he had won free when a body flew at him, tackling him. John went down again, the wind knocked out of him.
The last he saw of his home was the sun glinting on the water as the waves flowed gently back to the sea. Then he was struck from behind and lights exploded behind his eyes. John fell into darkness and he knew no more.
~~~~~
The darkness was still complete when next John opened his eyes. His head ached. When he cautiously explored the back of his head with his fingers, they came away wet and sticky.
There was the swaying of a deck beneath him; he could hear the slap of water against wood where his ear was pressed. He was on a boat. The place reeked of unwashed bodies and the air held the coppery tang of blood and he could hear the shift of bodies around him. He had been taken by slavers, those most feared by the people of Hallona.
John shivered. He wore only his short tunic and it provided no warmth. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to hold in some of his body heat. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he woke he would be home in his own bed and he would find that everything had been a terrible dream.
~~~~~
John was stiff and sore when next he opened his eyes. Weak sunlight filtered down to the hold where he was captive. Not a dream then.
It was light enough that now he could see the hold was packed with the bodies of his people - old and young, strong and infirm, men and women - the slavers had shown no mercy in who they took. The people huddled close together for warmth and comfort, fear stark in their eyes. John’s heart ached for the people crowded in around him. They were his people and there was nothing he could do for them.
A ripple passed through the packed throng and John looked up to see a mountain of a man headed toward him with murder in his eye. The man threw himself down beside John, glaring at those on either side of them until they shrunk away as best they could with nowhere to go leaving a small pocket of space around the two.
“What the hell did you think you were doing leaving your guard like that?” the man demanded without any other word of greeting.
“Ronon,” John said. He swallowed the lump that was in his throat, ashamed at being grateful for seeing the familiar face of his friend.
“Sheppard,” Ronon growled.
“Do not call me that here,” John growled back keeping his voice low. He really didn’t need to fear that anyone would be listening to them though. The people crowded in around them were all too caught up in their own misery to care about what anyone else might be doing.
“Why?” Ronon’s sharp gaze took in the suffering and the wounded around them. “Surely these people would take hope to know that the Sheppard is with them.”
“What kind of hope can they have?” John hissed back, bitterness thick in his throat. “If our captors find out who I am, they will use my people against me. They will use me against my father. Death is the best I could hope for. No, I must remain just another one of those taken by the slavers, nameless and faceless. Swear to me, Ronon, that you will not betray me.”
Ronon glared stubbornly at him, but nodded at last reluctantly. “You know I would never do that,” he ground out roughly.
John smiled at him, “I know that, my friend.” He put a hand on Ronon’s shoulder and squeezed. “What happened?” he asked quietly.
Ronon looked away, “We figured out you’d slipped away quickly enough,” he scowled at John. “We’d just set out to follow you when we were attacked. I got away to try and come to your aid when I was taken.”
“And the rest?”
Ronon shrugged, “I think most got away, but I don’t know. Your father is going to be angry.”
John smiled ruefully. That was understating the matter. There was nothing else he could do now. He stood unsteadily, the room rocking back and forth and he didn’t think it was the motion of the boat. “Let us see if we can calm these people somewhat.”
~~~~~
Rodney strode across the deck, scowling at the sailors who scurried quickly out of his way.
“How many?” He demanded.
“Over 50,” Lorne answered without even looking at him. He was busy watching the sailors around them keeping an eye on things as a good second-in-command should.
“How many injured?” Carson, the ship’s doctor, asked with a sideways glance toward the hold.
“Not many,” Lorne answered with an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders. “Most are just frightened peasants who gave up without a fight when they saw who we were.”
“Really makes you feel like a conquering hero, doesn’t it?” Rodney asked bitterly. He watched the choppy waves and the clouds that were accumulating on the horizon with a close eye. The weather was turning and it wasn’t going to be good.
“It is war, Captain.” Lorne sighed wearily. They’d had this conversation before and they both knew where it would end.
“This isn’t the place, Rodney,” Carson asserted and Rodney turned his back on them both with an aggrieved huff. It was his way of ending the argument. “What kind of injuries do they have?” Carson asked Lorne again.
Lorne shrugged, “Head wound is probably the worst. It bled pretty good, but head wounds do that. There’s some scrapes and a broken bone or two. Our people suffered, too,” Lorne pointed out just to make sure the doctor remembered his duty to his own people.
“And I’ve tended to them. Now, I want to see to the prisoners,” Carson’s jaw was thrust out stubbornly. He was prepared to do battle if he had to. This was also a familiar argument and Carson was ready with his defense. “Those are people down there. There’s no need for them to suffer needlessly.”
Lorne held his hands up in surrender, “Doc…” he began. Rodney ended the argument by stalking across the deck and pulling up the hatch that led down into the hold. He waved an impatient hand for Carson to follow him before disappearing down the ladder.
“Oh, come on, Captain,” Lorne shouted after him. He gave up knowing it was no use protesting that the ship’s captain wasn’t safe down there. Rodney would do what he wanted anyway. He always did.
Carson grinned at the man and then followed his captain.
~~~~~
Rodney went down the ladder expecting to find the hold full of screaming, crying prisoners. He was surprised to find it was fairly quiet and calm. Yes, there was the stink of fear and too many unwashed bodies pressed in together, but instead of the terrified screaming that usually greeted him, the prisoners were sitting quietly huddled together watching him apprehensively. Maybe they were surprised that he didn’t have two heads.
As he came down the ladder, one of the men - a tall, lanky man, climbed to his feet in order to glare at Rodney. He was dressed in the simple garments of a fisherman, yet there was something about him that drew all eyes to him. Maybe it was the way his hair stood in crazy spikes in a manner that defied nature. Only in Hallona, thought Rodney sourly. Whatever it was, he commanded attention.
Carson scrambled down the ladder after Rodney. “Bloody hell,” Rodney heard him mutter as he took in the stinking, shivering mass of people around them. “Is anyone injured?” he asked.
The man stepped forward and scowled at them. “As if you care?” He crossed his arms defiantly and almost seemed to put himself between Rodney and the rest of the prisoners, except that was just crazy. There was nothing one man could do against so many. All Rodney had to do was shout and the hold would be teaming with Rodney’s well-armed men.
“Easy, lad,” Carson said, speaking as he did when he was trying to calm a spooked animal. “I just want to help.” His questing gaze spotted the dried blood crusted on the man’s neck, staining his tunic. “Why don’t you let me take a look at your head? Then the rest of these people will see that I mean you no harm.”
The man frowned, obviously trying to decide if he could trust them to not just chop his head off. His gaze took in the people around him. Rodney saw him taking note of the cuts and bruises, the limbs held carefully. There were plenty of injuries that needed tending no matter what Lorne said. Carson’s help was sorely needed if the people would only allow it. Rodney turned his gaze back to the man, watching him carefully. If he allowed it, for Rodney was certain that if this strangely compelling man said so, the people would willingly submit to Carson’s not-so-tender ministrations.
The man finally nodded and edged closer. “Alright, but you won’t hurt anyone will you?” He sat on a crate and allowed Carson to probe the back of his head gently. He winced once and that was all the reaction Rodney could see.
“I won’t hurt them,” Carson said soothingly. “I just want to help.”
“If he really wanted to help, he’d just drop us off at the nearest port,” an anonymous voice said from the darkness under the stairs.
There was a frightened gasp. Rodney rolled his eyes. Instead of pulling out the anonymous speaker and drawing and quartering him on the spot as the prisoners obviously expected, Rodney turned to Carson, “I’m going back up to the deck and make sure Lorne doesn’t run us aground. I’ll send someone back down to keep an eye on you and make sure this gang of ruffians don’t take you hostage or something equally cliché.”
Rodney left him there knowing that Carson was in his element tending to the sick and the wounded. He didn’t need Rodney to hold his hand and tell him how to do his job. Rodney did as he promised though and sent down a couple of sailors to keep an eye on the doctor. Usually their passengers were too frightened to put up much of a fight, but Rodney had seen the hulking shape under the stairs that was bigger than any two of his sailors. He really didn’t need a hostage situation in the hold. They were damned annoying and always ended badly.
~~~~~
“My name is Carson, by the way,” the doctor said conversationally as he probed at the wound under his fingers gently, attempting to put him at ease. The man had courage, that was the right of it. He sat patiently, never betraying his fear or his pain outwardly although Carson could feel the fine tremors that swept through him, ruthlessly contained.
“John,” the man said in answer to Carson’s unspoken question. Carson rather thought his patient, John, was trying to maintain his calm façade in order to keep the rest of the people huddled in the hold calm. They were all watching avidly, waiting for Carson to hurt him, probably. He knew what happened to some of the slaves taken. Thank God Rodney didn’t approve of such things.
A large man appeared from the shadows under the ladder. He towered over everyone in the hold. He would tower over most anyone on the ship, Carson thought. His hair was long and wild with bits of bone and stick woven into it. His skin was dark, darker even than those sailors whose skin was burned to deepest brown. Carson thought he must be one of the wild mountain men he had heard tales of - fiercely loyal to those whom they gave their allegiance; they would fight to the death any who tried to hurt one under their protection. The wild man watched Carson through narrowed eyes.
“You know if you hurt him, you’re dead, right?” The man asked conversationally.
“Ronon,” John barked at him in warning. “Just ignore him, Carson,” John said. “Really, mostly he’s just harmless.”
Carson swallowed and resolved to work as carefully as he could. He tried again to reassure the prisoners as best he could. “I wish I could let you all go,” he said to no one in particular as he worked. “But since that’s not up to me, I’d like to keep you lot as healthy as possible until we get to our destination.”
“What’s the point?” the giant man, Ronon, asked. “We’re just all going to be slaves anyway.”
There was muffled sobs around them and John hissed, “Stop it, Ronon, you’re scaring everyone.”
Ronon scowled fiercely, “They should be scared. We know what happens to slaves of these infidels.”
“Ronon.” John snapped out and the mountain man subsided. He leaned back against the stairs and sulked while Carson finished his examination of the other man’s head wound. He let out a grateful sigh of relief when he saw Lorne and Radek coming down the ladder into the hold to keep an eye on him.
“I’d like to get some clean water and some bandages,” he said. “Do you think the others will let me look at them without too much fuss?”
John nodded. “I’ll talk to them while you’re gone.” He gave a pointed glance to the guard. Carson nodded at them to leave with him and help him gather the necessary supplies.
~~~~~
“He’s a strange one, he is,” Carson commented to Rodney at dinner.
“He?” Rodney was intent on the map he had rolled out across the table. The sea was rough and the ship was tossing to and fro. It was difficult keeping things in place unless they were secured. Rodney had his dinner plate on one edge of the map holding it down, eating absentmindedly as he studied the map intently.
“The man with the head wound, John. I think he’s more than the simple fisherman as he claims.”
Rodney looked up sharply, “What do you mean?” There was a calculating light in his eyes as if he were trying to decide how this could be used to his advantage.
Carson squirmed a little, uncomfortable. He was sorry he’d brought it up. “Just that he’s good with the people down there, that’s all. He talked to them and convinced them to let me treat them. There have been other times I’ve tried and the prisoners just rioted rather than let me touch them.”
Rodney grinned at him, “I know how they feel. Your treatment is only so much voodoo as it is.”
“Now, Rodney…” Carson began, but Rodney stopped him.
“So, he’s the leader down there?”
Carson nodded. “Seems to be. Along with that big one that stays at his shoulder all the time, like his shadow.”
Rodney nodded, “That’s good to know. We’re sailing into a storm. Maybe he’ll be able to keep them calm. I’d hate to have to go down there and restrain them.” His mouth turned down in distaste. As much as the human cargo was a necessity of the war between their two peoples, it didn’t mean Rodney had to like it. “Do you think he’ll talk to me?”
Carson chuckled, “You are the ship’s captain, Rodney, I think we all have to talk to you.”
~~~~~~
Everyone had settled for the night. The air in the hold wasn’t quite so oppressive now that the doctor had seen to their wounds. The people were a little more hopeful, which just filled John with bitter rage. There was no hope for any of them where they were going, and he resented the kindness of the stranger who had seen to their hurts and given them baseless hope. Still he could not find it in himself to take the hope from the people settled around him. It was better to let them cling to whatever comfort they had while they still could.
John and Ronon huddled together for warmth, dozing fitfully. They couldn’t quite make it to sleep because the movement of the ship was jerky and erratic. There was a storm coming up. John could feel it in the air, taste it on his tongue. The ship moaned as a wave picked it up and then dropped it back to slap into the water. There was a muffled scream and the sound of someone crying.
“It’s alright,” he said loud enough that his voice would carry. “This is a good ship. It is strong and sturdy. It will hold up to the storm.”
“Do you know ships?” a woman’s voice asked from the darkness. John could hear the unspoken plea that he lie to them if necessary to allay their fears.
“I have helped to build ships,” he said. And that was true enough in that he had sat and studied plans and watched as his father’s great ships were built. “This is a sweet ship, it will hold.”
“That’s true,” a voice called from the hatch in the ceiling. “There hasn’t been a storm brewed that can sink Atlantis. Would you like to come up on deck?”
John recognized the voice as belonging to the man who had come down earlier with the doctor. His bright blue eyes and intent manner had caught John’s attention then.
“If you will allow it,” John called up to him.
There was the snapping of impatient fingers, “Well come on, then. I have better things to do than to stand here and talk to a slave all night.”
John suppressed the urge to tell him that that was exactly what he was doing. He pressed a hand into Ronon’s shoulder as he stood. “Keep an eye on things for me.”
Ronon nodded with an unhappy frown as John climbed the ladder and disappeared from his sight.
~~~~~
It was good to get out of the hold and the press of bodies that hemmed him in all sides. John was sorry for deserting Ronon, but not sorry enough to pass up the opportunity he was given. The night was black and the seas around them rough. John stumbled on unsteady legs as he stepped onto the deck of the ship.
It scudded through the water, pushed by the heavy winds that tugged at John’s short tunic now that he was on the deck. The seas were high and the waves slapped over the side of the ship, tossing the ship to and fro. John was soaked in short order.
“Here,” the man - Rodney, the doctor had called him, thrust a heavier shirt and pants into John’s hands. Once John fumbled those on, he was handed a heavy coat that had been treated in something to repell the rain. He was almost warm once he had everything on. Except for his bare feet. But the way the ship was pitching about, his bare feet had more purchase on the deck than if he were wearing heavy boots.
“A storm’s coming up,” Rodney said watching the sea with a worried frown on his face.
John quirked an eyebrow, “You have a keen eye, don’t you?” he said recklessly. He was already on a slave ship, what worse could they do to him.
Rodney jerked to look at John. Instead of the retribution John was expecting, he crooked a smile, his lips slanting down. “Are your people going to stay calm in the hold?” he asked.
John nodded. “They’ll be alright as long as your ship will hold.”
“It’ll hold,” Rodney promised with a fond glance for his ship. He turned a considering look toward John then, “Listen, I’m short crew this trip. You sounded like you knew ships. Do you know anything about sailing?”
John stared in awe at the sails that spread out above him like the wings of a giant bird flapping in the wind. Even his father had no ships this big.
There was an impatient snap of fingers from the other man. “Well?” he scowled at John. “Can you help? Or should I put you back in the hold with the others?”
John almost turned and went back to the hold. He was a prisoner, there was no reason he should help those holding him against his will. Except they were all trapped on the same ship. If it went down, his people would drown alongside the people of Geldar. John nodded. “I know a little.”
Rodney regarded him with a critical eye. John stood quietly letting the intense blue gaze sweep over him. He must have passed muster because the man snapped again and said, “Help with the sails, then. And don’t get in the way. If you don’t know something, don’t just pretend like you do and kill us all, say so.”
He left John standing there as he rushed away to take over the wheel.
“Hey, I’m Lorne,” another man said. He took his arm and led John away.
~~~~~
The storm raged for hours.
John stayed busy. He helped to get sails furled and lines tied down. He worked side by side with the men of Geldar as the waves poured over the side of the ship. It rolled from side to side at the mercy of the winds and waves. Once he was almost swept overboard by a wave that slapped into him and pushed him toward the rail. John scrabbled for a hold when a sailor, Radek, caught hold of him and held on firmly until the ship righted itself and they could both stand again.
John mumbled a thanks which the other man waved off. “You will save me next time,” he grinned.
John was certain they would be capsized more than once. But Rodney was always there, snapping his fingers and shouting orders, keeping them right side up almost by the sheer force of his will. He was a force to rival the fiercest of storms. John was in awe, he’d never seen anyone who could sail like Rodney, he seemed to have an instinct for what needed to be done.
In the middle of it - when the rain was pouring down on them and the waves was picking them up like a giant hand, while the lightening was streaking across the sky and the thunder crashed around them - it seemed that the storm would go on forever. But nothing was forever and the storm blew itself out at last.
It seemed a miracle to John when the ship was still on the water bobbing along with all of its sails down, being drawn along by the current. It was the deep of the night, in that time when it was darkest, just before the dawn. John was exhausted with a bone-deep weariness born of hard work coming on top of fighting for his life. He moved along automatically, just doing what needed to be done when he was told.
Rodney was standing at the railing looking out over the water, trying to judge if the storm was going to come back on them when the boom came loose of its rigging. It swung across the deck hitting Rodney square in the back, sending him flying over the rail into the water below. John was the one standing closest. He grabbed up a coil of rope from the deck and sprang to the rail. Throwing a leg over the edge he searched the still choppy seas for a body, something to throw a line, too, but there was nothing. Had Rodney been sucked under immediately? Would there even be a body to be found? John felt a moment’s inexplicable loss for a man he didn’t even know.
Then there was a hand on the rail next to him and a voice calling from below, “Help me up.”
John leaned out to discover Rodney clinging to the boat by the hand wrapped around the railing. He was white and shaking with exhaustion, he wouldn’t be able hang on long. For a second it flashed through John’s mind that this man had taken him and condemned him and his people to a lifetime of slavery. He could let Rodney fall to his death and no one would ever doubt when John said that the boom had swept him overboard. Everyone had seen it was so.
He growled at himself for such thoughts. He didn’t leave anyone behind, even if they were his mortal enemies. And he didn’t think this man was his mortal enemy, not really. It was a great misfortune that their countries were at war and they were forced to be enemies. Were it not for that circumstance, they could have been the best of friends.
John reached down as far as he could and gripped Rodney’s arm. “Hang on,” he shouted. Rodney nodded that he understood. He reached up with his other hand and grabbed onto John. Their eyes locked and something indefinable passed between them.
Sailors were rushing to their aid and it didn’t take long to get Rodney on the right side of the rail. He leaned over, breathing hard.
“You alright?” the man called Lorne asked.
Rodney gulped in another breath or two and nodded. “Thanks to him,” he waved a hand in John’s general direction.
Lorne nodded gravely. “Thanks,” he said to John. He turned back to Rodney and asked hesitantly, “You want me to take him back to the hold?”
Rodney straightened and John thought, just for a minute, he was going to hit Lorne he was so furious. His hand raised high into the air and he shook with his rage. Lorne stiffened, but he stood his ground. The sailors tensed, waiting for whatever was going to happen. Finally Rodney let his arm fall and all the air seemed to go out of him. He shook his head, “I’ll take care of him.”
“You know we can’t…” Lorne didn’t even finish the sentence. John knew what he’d been about to say all the same. He would get no special treatment because he had saved Rodney. He had known that all along.
There was sorrow in his eyes as Rodney looked at John. “I know,” he said to Lorne, his eyes never leaving John. “And I said I’ll take care of him.”
With that Rodney jerked his chin toward the cabin located under the wheel of the ship. The captain’s cabin. John followed as Rodney led the way. He stopped just inside the door, not sure what he was supposed to do.
Rodney took off his drenched coat and threw himself in a chair. “I just wanted to thank you,” he said.
John nodded. “It was the right thing to do.”
“I can’t give you any kind of reward for it,” Rodney’s eyes were troubled.
John regarded him steadily. “I didn’t do it for a reward. I couldn’t just let you fall like that.”
Rodney’s blue eyes were intent on John. It made John uncomfortable to be the focus of that intent gaze. “You are a strange one, John,” he said at last.
John cocked his head to the side, studying Rodney in turn, “Well I could say the same to you. From what I’ve heard about slave ships, I’d have expected all the men to be in chains and all the women to be raped by now.”
Rodney stiffened. “I’ll have none of that on my ship. Even if you are slaves and prisoners of war, you deserve a certain amount of common courtesy.”
John smiled, just a little. “Like I said, it takes one to know one.”
They stood, staring at one another for what might have been an eternity or it might have only been a second before the room spun and John found himself on his knees. He blinked wearily and found Rodney kneeling next to him, a warm hand on his shoulder steadying him. His hand was large and warm, his grip on John’s shoulder sure.
“Are you alright?” Rodney asked anxiously.
John shrugged, as diffidently as he could manage. “Head hurts, I haven’t eaten in a couple of days…” he had to work really hard to keep the accusation out of his voice.
Rodney cursed and pushed himself to his feet. John watched in alarm, afraid he’d said something wrong as the other man stalked to the door. He opened it to call out to whoever was standing outside it, “Feed the prisoners. They haven’t eaten since we brought them on board.”
There must have been an objection because Rodney’s eyes narrowed into dangerous glittering slits, something John did not want aimed at him, and growled, “I said feed them. And not the pig slop that prisoners usually get fed. Give them some of that stew that the crew had today. If it’s good enough for you lot, it should be good enough for prisoners.” He slammed the door and scowled at the room in general.
“Thank you,” John said quietly, meaning more than the food. Life for his people wasn’t going to get better any time soon, but it could be so much worse in the present.
If anything Rodney’s scowl deepened. He moved across the room to his table and picked up an apple from the bowl in the center and tossed it John. John caught it neatly. He didn’t even pause to inspect it for bruises or worms before sinking his teeth into it. The tang burst over his tongue as the juice dribbled down his chin. When he had finished it down to its core, he licked his fingers to get all of the sweetness there.
A groan drew his eyes upward. He found Rodney staring at him, hunger in his eyes. Only John suspected that Rodney wasn’t hungry for the apple. He turned his eyes away when he met John’s gaze, his ears turning red.
“Here,” Rodney hurried to a chest that stood at the side of the table, “let me find you something real to eat. Then I’ll check that head wound of yours and get you back to the hold.”
Rodney put dishes onto the table. “You should, ah, take off your wet clothes,” Rodney rambled as he set out plain bread and a wheel of cheese. It made John’s stomach grumble just to see it. It made it easier to think about eating himself knowing that his people’s bellies would be filled as well. “Not that I mean I want you to take your clothes off,” Rodney stuttered flashing John a gaze filled with hopeless longing and confused embarrassment.
John was torn. This was his enemy. The man had taken him from his home and was going to deliver him into slavery. By all rights, and according to his father, John should hate him. But just the sight of Rodney’s blue eyes sent a shiver of desire up John’s back. The sight of him in the middle of the storm flashed in John’s mind - heedless of his own danger, Rodney had done whatever needed to be done to save his ship and the people on it without thought for his own safety. Now John was noticing that he had a generous mouth that tended to drop into a crooked little slant. John felt a flash of heat when he imagined what Rodney could do with that mouth besides bark orders.
John stood slowly, using the wall to keep himself steady on his feet. “I know what you meant, Rodney,” he told the other man. Slowly he got the coat off. Despite the treatment, the rain had eventually soaked it, and he was wet all the way through now. He was shaking with cold and reaction to all that had happened to him.
Rodney brought him a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. For just a second John was in Rodney’s embrace, their faces just inches apart. It took all of John’s control to not lean into Rodney and soak up the warmth the other man exuded. Rodney’s eyes were huge as he gazed into John’s eyes, uncertain of what to do. John could see Rodney was warring with himself, too. All too quickly Rodney moved away. John gave a shuddering exhale and drew the blanket around his shoulders more tightly.
He sat at the table slowly, hesitantly, ready to move if he had read Rodney wrong and he wasn’t supposed to sit there. But the other man just nodded at the food he’d set out. He poured two mugs of something hot and spicy and handed one to John. John wrapped his fingers around the metal of the cup and let the heat soak through. For the first time since he’d woke up onboard the ship, John began to allow himself a small thread of hope.
While John ate, Rodney pulled out bandages and poured some clean water into a bowl. He didn’t ask permission before he began to pull off the sodden bandage on John’s head, but then John didn’t figure he had to. He was a slave now. He was a thing that people could use as they wanted. John was grateful for the respite he was being given with Rodney where he could get his bearings and get used to the idea.
The ship was quiet now that the storm had passed. Most of the crew had settled into their hammocks, only the bare minimum left on deck to keep her afloat. The cabin was warm, lit with a lantern that threw shadows into the corner. They sat in its warm glow and it felt to John like it was just the two of them in the whole world. He was very aware of Rodney standing close behind him, close enough to reach out and touch.
Rodney’s touch was gentle as he cleaned up John’s wound again. John felt the tickle as Rodney’s fingers left the wound and threaded themselves into John’s hair. He didn’t do anything else; he just let his fingers rest there. Maybe letting John decide what happened next.
John’s heart pounded as he stood and turned to face Rodney. Rodney was John’s captor it was true, but Rodney was good and kind and decent. This might be John’s last chance for a happy memory and he was suddenly determined to take what he could.
Despite the fact that John was the slave and Rodney the master, Rodney shifted uneasily as John leaned in to press their lips together. Rodney paused long enough for John to wonder if he had read Rodney wrong, if this wasn’t what he’d wanted after all. Then Rodney slid one hand down to John’s neck and tilted his head for a better angle before pressing their lips together again with wild abandon.
~~~~~
His heart beat wildly. It was insane. He wasn’t the kind of captain that took advantage of his prisoners. Just the thought made him nauseas. Rodney shoved John away stammering, “No, no, no, no,” his hands still stroking down John’s arm, his chest, whatever he could reach. “I’m not asking this of you as a slave.”
John smiled at that and pulled Rodney back in until he could feel John’s erection hot and hard against his hip, “And I’m not giving it to you as my master.”
Rodney let out a sigh of relief at that, but he still felt compelled to say, “It’s just us here, two men, right now, making each other feel good.”
John pulled away from him and Rodney frantically tried to figure out what he had said that was wrong. John reached down and pulled off his borrowed shirt taking his own tunic with it. Standing in the flickering light of the lantern, Rodney thought John must be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, all burnished and glowing. Slowly John unbuttoned his borrowed trousers then and pulled out his cock. It was long and thick and hard, already leaking at the end. He stroked a hand down it, “Come on then, make me feel good.”
“Oh, gods, yes.” Rodney wanted nothing more than that chance.
He moved in again to crush his mouth to John’s, licking inside. His hands moved restlessly over John wanting to touch him everywhere. He ran a hand down John’s chest letting his nail scrape across the brown nub of a nipple. John sucked in a breath and whined low in the back of his throat, “Please,” he pushed on Rodney’s shoulder and Rodney let himself be pushed to his knees.
He groaned at the sight of the cock in front of him. John leaned in and smeared the cum on its tip across his mouth.
“You were going to make me feel good?” He smirked down at Rodney as he stroked his hand down his length again, slowly.
Rodney leaned in and kissed the tip of John’s cock before taking the head into his mouth. He moaned at the bitter salty taste of it. The vibrations caused John to moan, too, and Rodney liked the sounds the man made. He swirled his tongue over the head of the cock and sucked it in as far as he could. John rewarded him with a throaty moan. Rodney felt fingers in his hair, wordlessly encouraging him.
Rodney worked the shaft of John’s cock with one hand, stroking its length slowly in time with his mouth. With the other he scrabbled at his pants, trying to get his own desperately aching cock out. He breathed in relief when he had it freed and he could work it in the same rhythm that he was sucking John.
Rodney grinned as he felt John try to control the jerking of his hips. It was a failing battle, as Rodney just sucked harder, encouraging John to thrust, wanting John to thrust. He looked up through his lashes to find John staring down at him, his face flushed, sweat dripping down his neck. Rodney wanted to suck him and lick his neck and be inside him all at once.
John finally gave up the attempt at being civilized and thrust into Rodney’s mouth with a long, full-body shudder. Rodney groaned again as the head of John’s cock hit the back of his throat. He swallowed and felt John shudder again. John thrust again and again, his cock sliding hot and heavy over Rodney’s tongue. When he came, Rodney swallowed greedily, wanting everything John could give him.
Before John was even finished, Rodney’s hand on his own cock was pulling and tugging as hard as he could. He was on the edge and he needed to come. John fell heavily to his knees beside Rodney. Twining his fingers with Rodney’s, Rodney fucked into their combined hands and came to his shuddering climax at last. When Rodney could finally think again, John leaned in to kiss him again.
Part 2
Pairings: John/Rodney, Rodney/Elizabeth
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU Character Death
Summary: John is taken as a slave in the war with Geldar and gifted to the Princess Elizabeth. Rodney is the ship’s captain who loves him. Can they find happiness in a world torn by war and hate?
Words: 18,000+
Author’s Notes: While this is nominally set on Earth (at least in my head), I have chosen to not use Earth-bound countries that anyone would recognize for my fic. Instead, I have chosen to name my countries Hallona and Geldar. Any resemblance to the countries of Hallona and Geldar from the SGA episode ‘The Game’ is purely coincidental.
~~~~~
It was a pleasant day for walking. The sun was shining gently for the season and the breeze carried the scent of the trees that bloomed along the shore. John had walked far enough that he could no longer hear the good-natured cries and shouts of his companions as they enjoyed this rarest of days. He hadn’t meant to go so far, but the day had been so lovely that once he’d started walking he’d continued, enjoying his time alone.
He paused irresolutely, knowing he should return, and yet not wanting to give up his rare moment of peace. As if to entice him to stay, the waves washed up over the sand and tickled his toes before rushing back down across the sand to escape back to the sea. John shaded his face with a hand looking out over the water.
He loved the sea - the way the sunlight danced over the waves, the salt in the air, the way the sea could be peaceful and serene one day and wild and tempestuous the next. The sea stretched towards the horizon for as far as his eye could see. And somewhere, far on the other side, was Geldar.
John often wondered what Geldar was like. There were so many stories and rumors and half-truths, it was hard to know what was true and what was false anymore. He would like to go there someday and meet the people of Geldar so he could find out for himself. It had been so long since anyone from Hallona had visited Geldar and returned to tell the tale, no one knew anymore. It would be easy; it was only two days by fast ship across the sea that separated the two countries.
But John wouldn’t be going to Geldar anytime soon because Hallona had been at war with Geldar for as long as anyone could remember. John knew that it was a trade agreement gone wrong that had started the war. But it was so lost in their history that he supposed few people besides him knew it anymore.
The only thing that most of the common people of Hallona knew was that because of Geldar they lived in fear of their lives. And with good reason. The Geldar were a fierce enemy. They struck without warning and would take for slaves any who were unlucky enough to be caught in their path. It had been some days since they had been sighted along the shore, but the people of Hallona were cautious. All were cautious except for John who just longed for a moment to be alone with his thoughts.
Giving in to the impulse to tarry for just a bit longer, John took off his sandals and wriggled his toes in the sand. The day was warm, so he also removed his leather coat and laid it aside. He grinned when he stood barefoot with his arms bared to the sun, clad only in his tunic. If anyone came upon him now, they would take him for a simple peasant, or perhaps a fisherman, one of those who earned their living from the sea.
Soon enough his guard would realize that he was gone and they would track him down. He couldn’t even hope that they wouldn’t report him to his father. The guard were loyal to the king, not to the Sheppard. If anything happened to their charge, it would be their lives that were forfeit. It was selfish of him to not return to them, he knew, but it was so seldom that he found himself alone. He took his freedom where he could find it.
A distant shout drew John’s attention. At first he thought it was his guard discovering at last that he had slipped away from them. Then he heard the sounds of metal on metal and cries of pain. It was a sound he knew all too well for it was the sound of battle.
Without thought for his own safety, John raced back up the sandy shore, breath coming in great gulps; afraid of what he would find when he got there. He was not allowed that far.
He rounded a bend in the shore and discovered a line of men running toward him. He recognized the colors of his enemy - they wore the greys and blues of the army of Geldar. John was brave and he was a fair fighter in battle, but he had no weapons to defend himself and he was cut off from his guard. There was no dishonor in retreat in order to fight another day. He turned and broke into a run heading for the trees that lined the shore. If he could just get there before he was seen…. But it was too late, there was a shout and the men- more than he could hope to evade for long, were after him.
He thought they must be a raiding party, sent to wreak terror and havoc and to take slaves. They couldn’t be after John himself, there was no way they could know who John was or his importance to the people of Hallona. It was just his bad luck to run into the enemy when he was alone.
John ran as if his life depended on it, for indeed it did. He hoped to lose his pursuers in the thick of the wood. He knew the woods; he had grown up in them and they were as much home to him as his father’s royal house. He knew all the secret places and, if he could just get to one of those, he might live to tell his story. If he could evade them long enough perhaps his own guard would find him.
But there were too many of the enemy soldiers. They pursued him like hounds on the hunt. They were not stealthy trackers - they crashed through the underbrush making enough noise to warn all of their presence and they called out to one another at any sign of him. They didn’t need to be stealthy though. They had numbers on their side. Soon they had John trapped, circled around with no escape possible.
They circled around him, drawing in slowly until he was hemmed in all sides. Determined not to let them win their prize so easily, John threw himself at the men surrounding him. He struck one man in the face. The man fell, spitting blood. John took advantage of the man’s mistake. He tried to slip through the opening, but another threw himself at John. They crashed together and went rolling, limbs tangled. John kicked out and heard an, ‘oof,’ as he struck softness. He pushed himself up and another grabbed him from behind. He pushed aside the despair that threatened to overwhelm knowing there were too many soldiers; he could not continue fighting forever. Already he could feel his strength flagging.
The arms around his middle tightened and the soldier behind him grunted in vicious satisfaction. John threw his head back as hard as he could and felt himself connect with a thud. The arms around him loosened.
John grabbed the arm of the man holding him. He twisted it around until he heard a snap. He shoved the soldier into those advancing on him, scattering them. He thought he had won free when a body flew at him, tackling him. John went down again, the wind knocked out of him.
The last he saw of his home was the sun glinting on the water as the waves flowed gently back to the sea. Then he was struck from behind and lights exploded behind his eyes. John fell into darkness and he knew no more.
~~~~~
The darkness was still complete when next John opened his eyes. His head ached. When he cautiously explored the back of his head with his fingers, they came away wet and sticky.
There was the swaying of a deck beneath him; he could hear the slap of water against wood where his ear was pressed. He was on a boat. The place reeked of unwashed bodies and the air held the coppery tang of blood and he could hear the shift of bodies around him. He had been taken by slavers, those most feared by the people of Hallona.
John shivered. He wore only his short tunic and it provided no warmth. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to hold in some of his body heat. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he woke he would be home in his own bed and he would find that everything had been a terrible dream.
~~~~~
John was stiff and sore when next he opened his eyes. Weak sunlight filtered down to the hold where he was captive. Not a dream then.
It was light enough that now he could see the hold was packed with the bodies of his people - old and young, strong and infirm, men and women - the slavers had shown no mercy in who they took. The people huddled close together for warmth and comfort, fear stark in their eyes. John’s heart ached for the people crowded in around him. They were his people and there was nothing he could do for them.
A ripple passed through the packed throng and John looked up to see a mountain of a man headed toward him with murder in his eye. The man threw himself down beside John, glaring at those on either side of them until they shrunk away as best they could with nowhere to go leaving a small pocket of space around the two.
“What the hell did you think you were doing leaving your guard like that?” the man demanded without any other word of greeting.
“Ronon,” John said. He swallowed the lump that was in his throat, ashamed at being grateful for seeing the familiar face of his friend.
“Sheppard,” Ronon growled.
“Do not call me that here,” John growled back keeping his voice low. He really didn’t need to fear that anyone would be listening to them though. The people crowded in around them were all too caught up in their own misery to care about what anyone else might be doing.
“Why?” Ronon’s sharp gaze took in the suffering and the wounded around them. “Surely these people would take hope to know that the Sheppard is with them.”
“What kind of hope can they have?” John hissed back, bitterness thick in his throat. “If our captors find out who I am, they will use my people against me. They will use me against my father. Death is the best I could hope for. No, I must remain just another one of those taken by the slavers, nameless and faceless. Swear to me, Ronon, that you will not betray me.”
Ronon glared stubbornly at him, but nodded at last reluctantly. “You know I would never do that,” he ground out roughly.
John smiled at him, “I know that, my friend.” He put a hand on Ronon’s shoulder and squeezed. “What happened?” he asked quietly.
Ronon looked away, “We figured out you’d slipped away quickly enough,” he scowled at John. “We’d just set out to follow you when we were attacked. I got away to try and come to your aid when I was taken.”
“And the rest?”
Ronon shrugged, “I think most got away, but I don’t know. Your father is going to be angry.”
John smiled ruefully. That was understating the matter. There was nothing else he could do now. He stood unsteadily, the room rocking back and forth and he didn’t think it was the motion of the boat. “Let us see if we can calm these people somewhat.”
~~~~~
Rodney strode across the deck, scowling at the sailors who scurried quickly out of his way.
“How many?” He demanded.
“Over 50,” Lorne answered without even looking at him. He was busy watching the sailors around them keeping an eye on things as a good second-in-command should.
“How many injured?” Carson, the ship’s doctor, asked with a sideways glance toward the hold.
“Not many,” Lorne answered with an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders. “Most are just frightened peasants who gave up without a fight when they saw who we were.”
“Really makes you feel like a conquering hero, doesn’t it?” Rodney asked bitterly. He watched the choppy waves and the clouds that were accumulating on the horizon with a close eye. The weather was turning and it wasn’t going to be good.
“It is war, Captain.” Lorne sighed wearily. They’d had this conversation before and they both knew where it would end.
“This isn’t the place, Rodney,” Carson asserted and Rodney turned his back on them both with an aggrieved huff. It was his way of ending the argument. “What kind of injuries do they have?” Carson asked Lorne again.
Lorne shrugged, “Head wound is probably the worst. It bled pretty good, but head wounds do that. There’s some scrapes and a broken bone or two. Our people suffered, too,” Lorne pointed out just to make sure the doctor remembered his duty to his own people.
“And I’ve tended to them. Now, I want to see to the prisoners,” Carson’s jaw was thrust out stubbornly. He was prepared to do battle if he had to. This was also a familiar argument and Carson was ready with his defense. “Those are people down there. There’s no need for them to suffer needlessly.”
Lorne held his hands up in surrender, “Doc…” he began. Rodney ended the argument by stalking across the deck and pulling up the hatch that led down into the hold. He waved an impatient hand for Carson to follow him before disappearing down the ladder.
“Oh, come on, Captain,” Lorne shouted after him. He gave up knowing it was no use protesting that the ship’s captain wasn’t safe down there. Rodney would do what he wanted anyway. He always did.
Carson grinned at the man and then followed his captain.
~~~~~
Rodney went down the ladder expecting to find the hold full of screaming, crying prisoners. He was surprised to find it was fairly quiet and calm. Yes, there was the stink of fear and too many unwashed bodies pressed in together, but instead of the terrified screaming that usually greeted him, the prisoners were sitting quietly huddled together watching him apprehensively. Maybe they were surprised that he didn’t have two heads.
As he came down the ladder, one of the men - a tall, lanky man, climbed to his feet in order to glare at Rodney. He was dressed in the simple garments of a fisherman, yet there was something about him that drew all eyes to him. Maybe it was the way his hair stood in crazy spikes in a manner that defied nature. Only in Hallona, thought Rodney sourly. Whatever it was, he commanded attention.
Carson scrambled down the ladder after Rodney. “Bloody hell,” Rodney heard him mutter as he took in the stinking, shivering mass of people around them. “Is anyone injured?” he asked.
The man stepped forward and scowled at them. “As if you care?” He crossed his arms defiantly and almost seemed to put himself between Rodney and the rest of the prisoners, except that was just crazy. There was nothing one man could do against so many. All Rodney had to do was shout and the hold would be teaming with Rodney’s well-armed men.
“Easy, lad,” Carson said, speaking as he did when he was trying to calm a spooked animal. “I just want to help.” His questing gaze spotted the dried blood crusted on the man’s neck, staining his tunic. “Why don’t you let me take a look at your head? Then the rest of these people will see that I mean you no harm.”
The man frowned, obviously trying to decide if he could trust them to not just chop his head off. His gaze took in the people around him. Rodney saw him taking note of the cuts and bruises, the limbs held carefully. There were plenty of injuries that needed tending no matter what Lorne said. Carson’s help was sorely needed if the people would only allow it. Rodney turned his gaze back to the man, watching him carefully. If he allowed it, for Rodney was certain that if this strangely compelling man said so, the people would willingly submit to Carson’s not-so-tender ministrations.
The man finally nodded and edged closer. “Alright, but you won’t hurt anyone will you?” He sat on a crate and allowed Carson to probe the back of his head gently. He winced once and that was all the reaction Rodney could see.
“I won’t hurt them,” Carson said soothingly. “I just want to help.”
“If he really wanted to help, he’d just drop us off at the nearest port,” an anonymous voice said from the darkness under the stairs.
There was a frightened gasp. Rodney rolled his eyes. Instead of pulling out the anonymous speaker and drawing and quartering him on the spot as the prisoners obviously expected, Rodney turned to Carson, “I’m going back up to the deck and make sure Lorne doesn’t run us aground. I’ll send someone back down to keep an eye on you and make sure this gang of ruffians don’t take you hostage or something equally cliché.”
Rodney left him there knowing that Carson was in his element tending to the sick and the wounded. He didn’t need Rodney to hold his hand and tell him how to do his job. Rodney did as he promised though and sent down a couple of sailors to keep an eye on the doctor. Usually their passengers were too frightened to put up much of a fight, but Rodney had seen the hulking shape under the stairs that was bigger than any two of his sailors. He really didn’t need a hostage situation in the hold. They were damned annoying and always ended badly.
~~~~~
“My name is Carson, by the way,” the doctor said conversationally as he probed at the wound under his fingers gently, attempting to put him at ease. The man had courage, that was the right of it. He sat patiently, never betraying his fear or his pain outwardly although Carson could feel the fine tremors that swept through him, ruthlessly contained.
“John,” the man said in answer to Carson’s unspoken question. Carson rather thought his patient, John, was trying to maintain his calm façade in order to keep the rest of the people huddled in the hold calm. They were all watching avidly, waiting for Carson to hurt him, probably. He knew what happened to some of the slaves taken. Thank God Rodney didn’t approve of such things.
A large man appeared from the shadows under the ladder. He towered over everyone in the hold. He would tower over most anyone on the ship, Carson thought. His hair was long and wild with bits of bone and stick woven into it. His skin was dark, darker even than those sailors whose skin was burned to deepest brown. Carson thought he must be one of the wild mountain men he had heard tales of - fiercely loyal to those whom they gave their allegiance; they would fight to the death any who tried to hurt one under their protection. The wild man watched Carson through narrowed eyes.
“You know if you hurt him, you’re dead, right?” The man asked conversationally.
“Ronon,” John barked at him in warning. “Just ignore him, Carson,” John said. “Really, mostly he’s just harmless.”
Carson swallowed and resolved to work as carefully as he could. He tried again to reassure the prisoners as best he could. “I wish I could let you all go,” he said to no one in particular as he worked. “But since that’s not up to me, I’d like to keep you lot as healthy as possible until we get to our destination.”
“What’s the point?” the giant man, Ronon, asked. “We’re just all going to be slaves anyway.”
There was muffled sobs around them and John hissed, “Stop it, Ronon, you’re scaring everyone.”
Ronon scowled fiercely, “They should be scared. We know what happens to slaves of these infidels.”
“Ronon.” John snapped out and the mountain man subsided. He leaned back against the stairs and sulked while Carson finished his examination of the other man’s head wound. He let out a grateful sigh of relief when he saw Lorne and Radek coming down the ladder into the hold to keep an eye on him.
“I’d like to get some clean water and some bandages,” he said. “Do you think the others will let me look at them without too much fuss?”
John nodded. “I’ll talk to them while you’re gone.” He gave a pointed glance to the guard. Carson nodded at them to leave with him and help him gather the necessary supplies.
~~~~~
“He’s a strange one, he is,” Carson commented to Rodney at dinner.
“He?” Rodney was intent on the map he had rolled out across the table. The sea was rough and the ship was tossing to and fro. It was difficult keeping things in place unless they were secured. Rodney had his dinner plate on one edge of the map holding it down, eating absentmindedly as he studied the map intently.
“The man with the head wound, John. I think he’s more than the simple fisherman as he claims.”
Rodney looked up sharply, “What do you mean?” There was a calculating light in his eyes as if he were trying to decide how this could be used to his advantage.
Carson squirmed a little, uncomfortable. He was sorry he’d brought it up. “Just that he’s good with the people down there, that’s all. He talked to them and convinced them to let me treat them. There have been other times I’ve tried and the prisoners just rioted rather than let me touch them.”
Rodney grinned at him, “I know how they feel. Your treatment is only so much voodoo as it is.”
“Now, Rodney…” Carson began, but Rodney stopped him.
“So, he’s the leader down there?”
Carson nodded. “Seems to be. Along with that big one that stays at his shoulder all the time, like his shadow.”
Rodney nodded, “That’s good to know. We’re sailing into a storm. Maybe he’ll be able to keep them calm. I’d hate to have to go down there and restrain them.” His mouth turned down in distaste. As much as the human cargo was a necessity of the war between their two peoples, it didn’t mean Rodney had to like it. “Do you think he’ll talk to me?”
Carson chuckled, “You are the ship’s captain, Rodney, I think we all have to talk to you.”
~~~~~~
Everyone had settled for the night. The air in the hold wasn’t quite so oppressive now that the doctor had seen to their wounds. The people were a little more hopeful, which just filled John with bitter rage. There was no hope for any of them where they were going, and he resented the kindness of the stranger who had seen to their hurts and given them baseless hope. Still he could not find it in himself to take the hope from the people settled around him. It was better to let them cling to whatever comfort they had while they still could.
John and Ronon huddled together for warmth, dozing fitfully. They couldn’t quite make it to sleep because the movement of the ship was jerky and erratic. There was a storm coming up. John could feel it in the air, taste it on his tongue. The ship moaned as a wave picked it up and then dropped it back to slap into the water. There was a muffled scream and the sound of someone crying.
“It’s alright,” he said loud enough that his voice would carry. “This is a good ship. It is strong and sturdy. It will hold up to the storm.”
“Do you know ships?” a woman’s voice asked from the darkness. John could hear the unspoken plea that he lie to them if necessary to allay their fears.
“I have helped to build ships,” he said. And that was true enough in that he had sat and studied plans and watched as his father’s great ships were built. “This is a sweet ship, it will hold.”
“That’s true,” a voice called from the hatch in the ceiling. “There hasn’t been a storm brewed that can sink Atlantis. Would you like to come up on deck?”
John recognized the voice as belonging to the man who had come down earlier with the doctor. His bright blue eyes and intent manner had caught John’s attention then.
“If you will allow it,” John called up to him.
There was the snapping of impatient fingers, “Well come on, then. I have better things to do than to stand here and talk to a slave all night.”
John suppressed the urge to tell him that that was exactly what he was doing. He pressed a hand into Ronon’s shoulder as he stood. “Keep an eye on things for me.”
Ronon nodded with an unhappy frown as John climbed the ladder and disappeared from his sight.
~~~~~
It was good to get out of the hold and the press of bodies that hemmed him in all sides. John was sorry for deserting Ronon, but not sorry enough to pass up the opportunity he was given. The night was black and the seas around them rough. John stumbled on unsteady legs as he stepped onto the deck of the ship.
It scudded through the water, pushed by the heavy winds that tugged at John’s short tunic now that he was on the deck. The seas were high and the waves slapped over the side of the ship, tossing the ship to and fro. John was soaked in short order.
“Here,” the man - Rodney, the doctor had called him, thrust a heavier shirt and pants into John’s hands. Once John fumbled those on, he was handed a heavy coat that had been treated in something to repell the rain. He was almost warm once he had everything on. Except for his bare feet. But the way the ship was pitching about, his bare feet had more purchase on the deck than if he were wearing heavy boots.
“A storm’s coming up,” Rodney said watching the sea with a worried frown on his face.
John quirked an eyebrow, “You have a keen eye, don’t you?” he said recklessly. He was already on a slave ship, what worse could they do to him.
Rodney jerked to look at John. Instead of the retribution John was expecting, he crooked a smile, his lips slanting down. “Are your people going to stay calm in the hold?” he asked.
John nodded. “They’ll be alright as long as your ship will hold.”
“It’ll hold,” Rodney promised with a fond glance for his ship. He turned a considering look toward John then, “Listen, I’m short crew this trip. You sounded like you knew ships. Do you know anything about sailing?”
John stared in awe at the sails that spread out above him like the wings of a giant bird flapping in the wind. Even his father had no ships this big.
There was an impatient snap of fingers from the other man. “Well?” he scowled at John. “Can you help? Or should I put you back in the hold with the others?”
John almost turned and went back to the hold. He was a prisoner, there was no reason he should help those holding him against his will. Except they were all trapped on the same ship. If it went down, his people would drown alongside the people of Geldar. John nodded. “I know a little.”
Rodney regarded him with a critical eye. John stood quietly letting the intense blue gaze sweep over him. He must have passed muster because the man snapped again and said, “Help with the sails, then. And don’t get in the way. If you don’t know something, don’t just pretend like you do and kill us all, say so.”
He left John standing there as he rushed away to take over the wheel.
“Hey, I’m Lorne,” another man said. He took his arm and led John away.
~~~~~
The storm raged for hours.
John stayed busy. He helped to get sails furled and lines tied down. He worked side by side with the men of Geldar as the waves poured over the side of the ship. It rolled from side to side at the mercy of the winds and waves. Once he was almost swept overboard by a wave that slapped into him and pushed him toward the rail. John scrabbled for a hold when a sailor, Radek, caught hold of him and held on firmly until the ship righted itself and they could both stand again.
John mumbled a thanks which the other man waved off. “You will save me next time,” he grinned.
John was certain they would be capsized more than once. But Rodney was always there, snapping his fingers and shouting orders, keeping them right side up almost by the sheer force of his will. He was a force to rival the fiercest of storms. John was in awe, he’d never seen anyone who could sail like Rodney, he seemed to have an instinct for what needed to be done.
In the middle of it - when the rain was pouring down on them and the waves was picking them up like a giant hand, while the lightening was streaking across the sky and the thunder crashed around them - it seemed that the storm would go on forever. But nothing was forever and the storm blew itself out at last.
It seemed a miracle to John when the ship was still on the water bobbing along with all of its sails down, being drawn along by the current. It was the deep of the night, in that time when it was darkest, just before the dawn. John was exhausted with a bone-deep weariness born of hard work coming on top of fighting for his life. He moved along automatically, just doing what needed to be done when he was told.
Rodney was standing at the railing looking out over the water, trying to judge if the storm was going to come back on them when the boom came loose of its rigging. It swung across the deck hitting Rodney square in the back, sending him flying over the rail into the water below. John was the one standing closest. He grabbed up a coil of rope from the deck and sprang to the rail. Throwing a leg over the edge he searched the still choppy seas for a body, something to throw a line, too, but there was nothing. Had Rodney been sucked under immediately? Would there even be a body to be found? John felt a moment’s inexplicable loss for a man he didn’t even know.
Then there was a hand on the rail next to him and a voice calling from below, “Help me up.”
John leaned out to discover Rodney clinging to the boat by the hand wrapped around the railing. He was white and shaking with exhaustion, he wouldn’t be able hang on long. For a second it flashed through John’s mind that this man had taken him and condemned him and his people to a lifetime of slavery. He could let Rodney fall to his death and no one would ever doubt when John said that the boom had swept him overboard. Everyone had seen it was so.
He growled at himself for such thoughts. He didn’t leave anyone behind, even if they were his mortal enemies. And he didn’t think this man was his mortal enemy, not really. It was a great misfortune that their countries were at war and they were forced to be enemies. Were it not for that circumstance, they could have been the best of friends.
John reached down as far as he could and gripped Rodney’s arm. “Hang on,” he shouted. Rodney nodded that he understood. He reached up with his other hand and grabbed onto John. Their eyes locked and something indefinable passed between them.
Sailors were rushing to their aid and it didn’t take long to get Rodney on the right side of the rail. He leaned over, breathing hard.
“You alright?” the man called Lorne asked.
Rodney gulped in another breath or two and nodded. “Thanks to him,” he waved a hand in John’s general direction.
Lorne nodded gravely. “Thanks,” he said to John. He turned back to Rodney and asked hesitantly, “You want me to take him back to the hold?”
Rodney straightened and John thought, just for a minute, he was going to hit Lorne he was so furious. His hand raised high into the air and he shook with his rage. Lorne stiffened, but he stood his ground. The sailors tensed, waiting for whatever was going to happen. Finally Rodney let his arm fall and all the air seemed to go out of him. He shook his head, “I’ll take care of him.”
“You know we can’t…” Lorne didn’t even finish the sentence. John knew what he’d been about to say all the same. He would get no special treatment because he had saved Rodney. He had known that all along.
There was sorrow in his eyes as Rodney looked at John. “I know,” he said to Lorne, his eyes never leaving John. “And I said I’ll take care of him.”
With that Rodney jerked his chin toward the cabin located under the wheel of the ship. The captain’s cabin. John followed as Rodney led the way. He stopped just inside the door, not sure what he was supposed to do.
Rodney took off his drenched coat and threw himself in a chair. “I just wanted to thank you,” he said.
John nodded. “It was the right thing to do.”
“I can’t give you any kind of reward for it,” Rodney’s eyes were troubled.
John regarded him steadily. “I didn’t do it for a reward. I couldn’t just let you fall like that.”
Rodney’s blue eyes were intent on John. It made John uncomfortable to be the focus of that intent gaze. “You are a strange one, John,” he said at last.
John cocked his head to the side, studying Rodney in turn, “Well I could say the same to you. From what I’ve heard about slave ships, I’d have expected all the men to be in chains and all the women to be raped by now.”
Rodney stiffened. “I’ll have none of that on my ship. Even if you are slaves and prisoners of war, you deserve a certain amount of common courtesy.”
John smiled, just a little. “Like I said, it takes one to know one.”
They stood, staring at one another for what might have been an eternity or it might have only been a second before the room spun and John found himself on his knees. He blinked wearily and found Rodney kneeling next to him, a warm hand on his shoulder steadying him. His hand was large and warm, his grip on John’s shoulder sure.
“Are you alright?” Rodney asked anxiously.
John shrugged, as diffidently as he could manage. “Head hurts, I haven’t eaten in a couple of days…” he had to work really hard to keep the accusation out of his voice.
Rodney cursed and pushed himself to his feet. John watched in alarm, afraid he’d said something wrong as the other man stalked to the door. He opened it to call out to whoever was standing outside it, “Feed the prisoners. They haven’t eaten since we brought them on board.”
There must have been an objection because Rodney’s eyes narrowed into dangerous glittering slits, something John did not want aimed at him, and growled, “I said feed them. And not the pig slop that prisoners usually get fed. Give them some of that stew that the crew had today. If it’s good enough for you lot, it should be good enough for prisoners.” He slammed the door and scowled at the room in general.
“Thank you,” John said quietly, meaning more than the food. Life for his people wasn’t going to get better any time soon, but it could be so much worse in the present.
If anything Rodney’s scowl deepened. He moved across the room to his table and picked up an apple from the bowl in the center and tossed it John. John caught it neatly. He didn’t even pause to inspect it for bruises or worms before sinking his teeth into it. The tang burst over his tongue as the juice dribbled down his chin. When he had finished it down to its core, he licked his fingers to get all of the sweetness there.
A groan drew his eyes upward. He found Rodney staring at him, hunger in his eyes. Only John suspected that Rodney wasn’t hungry for the apple. He turned his eyes away when he met John’s gaze, his ears turning red.
“Here,” Rodney hurried to a chest that stood at the side of the table, “let me find you something real to eat. Then I’ll check that head wound of yours and get you back to the hold.”
Rodney put dishes onto the table. “You should, ah, take off your wet clothes,” Rodney rambled as he set out plain bread and a wheel of cheese. It made John’s stomach grumble just to see it. It made it easier to think about eating himself knowing that his people’s bellies would be filled as well. “Not that I mean I want you to take your clothes off,” Rodney stuttered flashing John a gaze filled with hopeless longing and confused embarrassment.
John was torn. This was his enemy. The man had taken him from his home and was going to deliver him into slavery. By all rights, and according to his father, John should hate him. But just the sight of Rodney’s blue eyes sent a shiver of desire up John’s back. The sight of him in the middle of the storm flashed in John’s mind - heedless of his own danger, Rodney had done whatever needed to be done to save his ship and the people on it without thought for his own safety. Now John was noticing that he had a generous mouth that tended to drop into a crooked little slant. John felt a flash of heat when he imagined what Rodney could do with that mouth besides bark orders.
John stood slowly, using the wall to keep himself steady on his feet. “I know what you meant, Rodney,” he told the other man. Slowly he got the coat off. Despite the treatment, the rain had eventually soaked it, and he was wet all the way through now. He was shaking with cold and reaction to all that had happened to him.
Rodney brought him a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. For just a second John was in Rodney’s embrace, their faces just inches apart. It took all of John’s control to not lean into Rodney and soak up the warmth the other man exuded. Rodney’s eyes were huge as he gazed into John’s eyes, uncertain of what to do. John could see Rodney was warring with himself, too. All too quickly Rodney moved away. John gave a shuddering exhale and drew the blanket around his shoulders more tightly.
He sat at the table slowly, hesitantly, ready to move if he had read Rodney wrong and he wasn’t supposed to sit there. But the other man just nodded at the food he’d set out. He poured two mugs of something hot and spicy and handed one to John. John wrapped his fingers around the metal of the cup and let the heat soak through. For the first time since he’d woke up onboard the ship, John began to allow himself a small thread of hope.
While John ate, Rodney pulled out bandages and poured some clean water into a bowl. He didn’t ask permission before he began to pull off the sodden bandage on John’s head, but then John didn’t figure he had to. He was a slave now. He was a thing that people could use as they wanted. John was grateful for the respite he was being given with Rodney where he could get his bearings and get used to the idea.
The ship was quiet now that the storm had passed. Most of the crew had settled into their hammocks, only the bare minimum left on deck to keep her afloat. The cabin was warm, lit with a lantern that threw shadows into the corner. They sat in its warm glow and it felt to John like it was just the two of them in the whole world. He was very aware of Rodney standing close behind him, close enough to reach out and touch.
Rodney’s touch was gentle as he cleaned up John’s wound again. John felt the tickle as Rodney’s fingers left the wound and threaded themselves into John’s hair. He didn’t do anything else; he just let his fingers rest there. Maybe letting John decide what happened next.
John’s heart pounded as he stood and turned to face Rodney. Rodney was John’s captor it was true, but Rodney was good and kind and decent. This might be John’s last chance for a happy memory and he was suddenly determined to take what he could.
Despite the fact that John was the slave and Rodney the master, Rodney shifted uneasily as John leaned in to press their lips together. Rodney paused long enough for John to wonder if he had read Rodney wrong, if this wasn’t what he’d wanted after all. Then Rodney slid one hand down to John’s neck and tilted his head for a better angle before pressing their lips together again with wild abandon.
~~~~~
His heart beat wildly. It was insane. He wasn’t the kind of captain that took advantage of his prisoners. Just the thought made him nauseas. Rodney shoved John away stammering, “No, no, no, no,” his hands still stroking down John’s arm, his chest, whatever he could reach. “I’m not asking this of you as a slave.”
John smiled at that and pulled Rodney back in until he could feel John’s erection hot and hard against his hip, “And I’m not giving it to you as my master.”
Rodney let out a sigh of relief at that, but he still felt compelled to say, “It’s just us here, two men, right now, making each other feel good.”
John pulled away from him and Rodney frantically tried to figure out what he had said that was wrong. John reached down and pulled off his borrowed shirt taking his own tunic with it. Standing in the flickering light of the lantern, Rodney thought John must be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, all burnished and glowing. Slowly John unbuttoned his borrowed trousers then and pulled out his cock. It was long and thick and hard, already leaking at the end. He stroked a hand down it, “Come on then, make me feel good.”
“Oh, gods, yes.” Rodney wanted nothing more than that chance.
He moved in again to crush his mouth to John’s, licking inside. His hands moved restlessly over John wanting to touch him everywhere. He ran a hand down John’s chest letting his nail scrape across the brown nub of a nipple. John sucked in a breath and whined low in the back of his throat, “Please,” he pushed on Rodney’s shoulder and Rodney let himself be pushed to his knees.
He groaned at the sight of the cock in front of him. John leaned in and smeared the cum on its tip across his mouth.
“You were going to make me feel good?” He smirked down at Rodney as he stroked his hand down his length again, slowly.
Rodney leaned in and kissed the tip of John’s cock before taking the head into his mouth. He moaned at the bitter salty taste of it. The vibrations caused John to moan, too, and Rodney liked the sounds the man made. He swirled his tongue over the head of the cock and sucked it in as far as he could. John rewarded him with a throaty moan. Rodney felt fingers in his hair, wordlessly encouraging him.
Rodney worked the shaft of John’s cock with one hand, stroking its length slowly in time with his mouth. With the other he scrabbled at his pants, trying to get his own desperately aching cock out. He breathed in relief when he had it freed and he could work it in the same rhythm that he was sucking John.
Rodney grinned as he felt John try to control the jerking of his hips. It was a failing battle, as Rodney just sucked harder, encouraging John to thrust, wanting John to thrust. He looked up through his lashes to find John staring down at him, his face flushed, sweat dripping down his neck. Rodney wanted to suck him and lick his neck and be inside him all at once.
John finally gave up the attempt at being civilized and thrust into Rodney’s mouth with a long, full-body shudder. Rodney groaned again as the head of John’s cock hit the back of his throat. He swallowed and felt John shudder again. John thrust again and again, his cock sliding hot and heavy over Rodney’s tongue. When he came, Rodney swallowed greedily, wanting everything John could give him.
Before John was even finished, Rodney’s hand on his own cock was pulling and tugging as hard as he could. He was on the edge and he needed to come. John fell heavily to his knees beside Rodney. Twining his fingers with Rodney’s, Rodney fucked into their combined hands and came to his shuddering climax at last. When Rodney could finally think again, John leaned in to kiss him again.
Part 2