Fic: Atonement (NC-17)
Title: Atonement
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Caldwell, Beckett, Zelenka, big!Jack, mini!Jack, Kavanaugh
Relationships: McKay/Sheppard, Zelenka/Beckett, mini!Jack/Corrigan
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Smut, angst
Spoilers: None
Summary: Part 29 of the Broken Series
Disclaimer: The characters, the setting, etc. are NOT mine, even if I wish they were.
John moaned and pulled Rodney closer as he felt his husband trying to slip out of bed. "Stay, Rodney," he murmured.
"I wanted to get to work on the data--"
John pressed himself against his husband, erection pushed against Rodney's hip as he slid one hand through Rodney's chest hair, lightly brushing across the sensitive nipples. "Just a little while?"
"Mmm," Rodney said and John could see the conflict for just a moment, then Rodney sighed and smiled at him. "Okay. For a little while."
"That didn't take too much argument." John kissed his shoulder and then shifted so he could follow it to Rodney's throat with gentle kisses, licks, and sucks.
Rodney tipped his head back to give John's mouth free reign, closing his eyes and slipping his hands around to explore John's lean back and ass. "No, it didn't," he admitted. "You and your kinky cuddly ways make it hard to resist."
"Hey, it's not my fault you're such a soft, warm, sexy Rodney," John answered, grinning for a moment before returning his attention to Rodney's throat.
Rodney groaned. "Skinny-assed bastard!"
John straddled Rodney, grinning as he ground himself against Rodney's erection. "I don't hear you complaining when your cock's up my ass."
"My cock happens to like skinny-assed bastards."
"Just your cock?"
Rodney smiled. "Oh, the rest of me likes 'em just fine, as well. Especially this one," he said, tapping John's chest.
"Oh?"
"Hm. Yes. My mouth likes the way this one tastes when we kiss, likes the feel of his tongue fucking into it, likes the way his nipples get hard, likes the shape of his ears, the feel of his pulse when it kisses his throat, the way your toes wiggle when it sucks them, the way your cock feels sliding in and out over my tongue and into my throat and how it throbs as you come, likes how your back is so smooth and salty and sexy."
John shivered and reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the lube.
"And my hands... Oh, they like the feel of your chest hair, like the way your shoulder muscles tense up when you're on top of me, like being sucked, like how your hips feel when I'm holding you steady while I fuck you, like holding your hands, like how your balls are nice and heavy and just right, like how hot and smooth you are inside when I fingerfuck you and how the muscles in your ass squeeze when you come."
John prepared himself slowly, listening to Rodney talk, watching Rodney watching his fingers slip inside in slow, confident strokes.
"And my ass likes the feel of your fingers up inside me, and your cock... God, it loves your cock... and loved the feeling of your tongue last night."
John poured some more lube into his hand and slowly began stroking Rodney's erection, slicking it up. Rodney fell silent with a gasp. "Go on," John encouraged.
Rodney swallowed hard and shuddered. "Uh... m-my eyes... my eyes love the way you look at me... your smile... the way your eyes go dark when you want me..." Like they were now. "They love how you look when you're comi-- Oh, God! Ohhh... you feel so good..."
He lost the ability to speak as he fought to gain control. He closed his eyes and thought of how to model a 17-dimensional universe -- his current theory -- and whether time flowed in only one direction along all sixteen other dimensions until the urge to come subsided a bit. He opened his eyes to find John smiling down at him in amusement.
"Should I ask why you're smiling?"
"I think you're cute when you're trying to hold back so I can come first."
Rodney grinned at him. "My eyes love the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you're really happy."
"Why, Rodney, I do believe you're being a romantic sap."
"Say that again and I'll just roll us over and fuck you into the mattress and not worry about whether you come or not."
John shuddered at that, closed his eyes and began fucking himself on Rodney hard and fast.
"My cock definitely loves your skinny ass, though..."
"Yeah..." John moaned.
"How... hot and... God!... tight and... oh, yeah... smooth and... dee-- deeper... godyes... ohgodyes... nnngg... John!"
"Rod... ney!"
***
Colonel Steven Caldwell scowled at the chaplain as he entered the mess, glanced around for a moment, and then waved at Novak. The commander of the Daedalus watched the man get a tray, congenially take what was offered, and head over to Novak's table.
It was, he supposed, completely illogical to mistrust a chaplain, but he did. Fortunately, he wouldn't be putting up with the man much longer.
It had all started with the pictures.
General O'Neill had studied the pictures Caldwell had dumped on his desk. Caldwell had concentrated on military personnel for the most part -- starting with Sheppard in his dress blues, molten desire in his eyes that came through loud and clear in the picture as he sucked Dr. Rodney McKay's fingers. He knew O'Neill would probably shrug that one off -- it was Sheppard and McKay's wedding, after all. But then several pictures followed -- Doctors Weir and Heightmeyer dancing in each other's arms, laughing; Major Lorne and Lieutenant Cadman practically having sex right there on the dance floor; several of Marines paired off with same-sex partners, hands or faces much too close; others of officers and enlisted or those in direct command and their underlings in similar states. The last one was of young Jack O'Neill with the dark-haired man that Caldwell had determined was anthropologist Dr. Eric Corrigan, seven years young Jack's senior. The first couple were of them dancing, suggestive of sexual tension but not damning, but the last was the kiss that had been caught in the reflection.
O'Neill had a good poker face. He had looked up from the pictures and lifted his eyebrows. "And?"
"I wanted you to see, sir, what a dangerous breakdown in discipline is happening because of the protocols."
"It was a wedding, Colonel. People dance."
"It was a gay wedding and people don't usually dance with others of the same sex, especially on slow songs."
"I'm well aware that it was a gay wedding, Colonel. And, unfortunately for those in Atlantis, men outnumber the women five to two. That means at a social event such as this, men are going to have to either dance with other men or sit out. It was a gay wedding, as you say, so a guy can't be blamed for thinking he can dance with the closest convenient warm body with no repercussions -- either from his superiors or from the owner of that warm body."
"And the fraternisation?"
"Is also understandable, given the circumstances."
Caldwell had pulled out the picture of Lorne and Cadman. "That," he had said, jabbing his finger at the couple, "isn't just a case of the closest convenient warm body, sir. If those two aren't lovers, I'll eat my hat. And that is a definite threat to the chain of command."
O'Neill had rolled his eyes. "It isn't like he can drop by the local bar in his off-hours to meet someone not in his chain of command. Who, exactly, is Major Lorne supposed to date, Colonel?"
"No one. Or one of the scientists."
"None of whom may share enough in common with him to make a viable relationship."
"If it's vital to his happiness, he'll make it work, sir," Caldwell had answered.
"True, with a great deal of effort, family support, and relationship counseling, an odd pairing might be made to work. But, Atlantis certainly doesn't have those resources easily to hand." O'Neill had considered Caldwell. "You do understand that's why the Protocols were put in place to begin with? Some of these people had been there for over a year, most without anything remotely resembling leave, watching buddies die in truly horrific fashion. They need the outlets of friendship, romance, and, yes, plain old sex. We needed to set appropriate standards of behaviour and we couldn't be holding the civilians and the military to different standards. The civilians would balk to suddenly finding themselves held to military standards. And, frankly, because the Atlantis mission is so small, there's no non-Atlantian population for them to seek relationships with, and we don't want them compromised by getting involved with a member of an unknown alien civilisation, we had to rework the fraternisation policies."
Caldwell had pulled out the picture of young Jack and Corrigan. "And you had to scrap 'Don't ask; don't tell' as well?"
Jack had met his eyes with a cold, hard stare. "Yes. The same problems facing a straight person on Atlantis were nearly insurmountable for a gay one. Dr. Weir made a strong argument for recognising healthy relationships -- gay or straight -- as a necessary component to the survival of the Atlantis mission. She also argued that a relationship that must be hidden isn't liable to be terribly healthy and could be more damaging to the mission than the possibly negative morale generated by allowing open gay relationships. I agreed with her. If you don't, that's your business. But you're still under my command and you will accept my decisions."
"Yes, sir," Caldwell had answered. "I just wanted to make you aware, sir, that this relationship involving your 'nephew' may also have repercussions for you. People might... conclude certain things about your... ah... disposition."
O'Neill had given him an annoyed look. "The military cares about behaviour, not dispositions. I seem to recall you mentioning at one point that alcoholism runs in your family. How would you feel if we decided that since you may have a disposition toward alcoholism that you should be treated just as if you were an alcoholic? I may or may not have a certain disposition, but unless you have some proof of conduct unbecoming an officer, I highly suggest you stop asking or hinting at asking a certain question. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir," Caldwell had gritted out.
"But, I will say one thing these pictures have brought to mind," O'Neill had said.
"Yes, sir?"
"Atlantis really needs a chaplain."
So now here he was, watching sourly, as Lieutenant Nelson Gilchrist chatted amiably with Novak. Novak's loyalty to the Atlantian science team and to Dr. McKay and his outrageous marriage was well-known. That she had almost immediately befriended the chaplain he'd hoped would bring some moral high ground to Atlantis did not bode well. If he didn't think Hermiod would rebel, he'd have asked to transfer her off his ship.
***
Carson walked into the infirmary, stifling a yawn. "Good morning," he greeted Allison. "How are our patients?"
"Still asleep for the most part. Dr. Kavanaugh's awake, though. He's been complaining of a headache."
Carson nodded and turned to the scientist on the bed. Kavanaugh did look rather wan. Carson patted his arm. "I need to check in on Dr. Corrigan briefly and then we'll see about that headache of yours."
"Couldn't you just give me something?"
"Not till I know what's causing it. I'm sorry."
Kavanaugh nodded, biting his lip. "Just hurry."
"All right, lad. I won't be but a moment."
Young Jack O'Neill was asleep, head on Corrigan's bed, arms thrown protectively over his lover's legs, one of Eric's hands curled around his face. Carson wondered how anyone could see the two together and say the harsh things he had heard. Of course, the problem was that most of those slanderers hadn't seen them together.
He stepped behind the chair Jack was half-sleeping in and gently touched the pilot's back. "Lieutenant? Jack?"
"Hm?" Jack said, starting slightly.
"Have ye been here all night, son?"
Jack blinked, sitting up, and then grimaced as he tried to stretch protesting muscles. "Uh... yeah, I guess so."
"You need to get some sleep in a real bed."
"But... Eric--"
"Has been dosed heavily with painkillers as well as an anticonvulsant that has drowsiness as a side-effect. He's not going to be conscious terribly often for a couple of days. I'll call you if he wakes up and needs you, son. I understand the need to be with loved ones to aid in healing. But, I also don't need you getting ill from exhausting yourself. So, unless I call you, I don't want to see you in here for another four hours or so. Understood?"
Jack smiled and saluted saucily. "Yes, sir."
Carson chuckled. "Now get on with ye."
He quickly checked Corrigan's chart and vitals, frowning at the sloppy recording Gen had done in the middle of the night. Ah, she'd gotten off a column, he saw, and had to fix it. Probably got in a hurry. He nodded, satisfied at Corrigan's progress. Temperature was a bit high. He mentally adjusted the thermostat and pulled off one of the two blankets Gen had left on him, folding it up and setting it on top of the one she'd left folded up earlier.
He then went back out to talk to Kavanaugh.
***
They held each other, letting their breathing calm and their heart rates slow.
Rodney sighed, kissed John, and tried to get up. John tightened his hold.
"John, I have to go!"
"Huh-uh. Have to stay here..."
"I have to start analysing the data we got from the Ancient research lab."
John tried pouting. "It'll still be there in a few hours."
"I have a meeting with Lorne's team in a few hours. I can't put this off."
"Sure you can. You're in charge."
Rodney sighed. "I can't because the whole science team is champing at the bit to get their hands on the data... to make it mean something... especially Radek."
"Just Radek?" John asked quietly.
Rodney shuddered. "And me. I watched Achebe die, John. I heard Northrup being drained. Four people are dead and one almost dead because I ordered them to that planet. I need to know if it was worth it."
"And if it isn't?"
"Then my life... our life is going to be hell for a while and I'll apologise now, just in case."
John hugged him. "Okay. Meet me for lunch?"
"I'll try. Radio me when it's close to time."
"Sure."
***
Radek ate a powerbar for breakfast as he read the results of the scan of the wraith transport device that he had left running. Not good enough. Nine people. Juarez. Zacharias. Seven people whose names and faces he would probably never know.
How did you atone for that?
***
"All right. I believe it may be a side effect of the anticonvulsant we've had you on. We were going to take you off it today anyway," Carson said, as he injected a painkiller into Kavanaugh's IV port.
The scientist frowned. "Why exactly am I on an anticonvulsant? I thought it was just the fever--"
"It's standard procedure in the case of severe brain injury to do a two-week course of anticonvulsant therapy. After that, unless you've had a seizure during that time, the treatment is stopped."
Kavanaugh nodded. "So... am I... going to get to stay here on Atlantis?"
Carson took Kavanaugh's left hand. "Squeeze," he ordered.
Kavanaugh's grip was poor at best and uncoordinated. He looked grim.
"We'll see how you respond to physical therapy," Carson answered. "But I'll be honest with ye, son. If you don't put a lot of effort into it, I doubt very seriously that I can justify keeping you here, even if you are as brilliant as Rodney says."
"Wh-what? Dr. McKay... What?!"
Carson smiled. "Don't look so surprised. He's been in your corner all along, even when Dr. Weir wanted you transferred back to Earth."
Kavanaugh blinked. "R-really?"
"Yes, son. Really." Carson leaned forward conspiratorially. "But, please, don't ever let on that I told ye that or Rodney will be intolerable."
"Is he ever tolerable?" Kavanaugh asked, only half-joking.
Carson grinned. "Only to those he thinks are too weak to stand up to him."
***
Rodney's hand landed on Radek's shoulder as he looked over his head at the screen before him. "Hey," he said, gently, "you okay?"
Radek lifted his face out of his hands. "I can't do this, Rodney. I can't get enough data back."
Rodney sighed, considering him. "You knew it was likely impossible when you started the scan."
"You manage to do the impossible all the time."
"When you work for the government long enough, you learn to hedge your bets," McKay answered.
"I know you are not always hedging your bets, Rodney. I am not government employee in monkey suit who doesn't understand what you're talking about."
"I've been lucky," Rodney admitted. "Definitely well outside the probabilities."
"Unfortunately, I haven't been so lucky."
"Are you kidding me? You have a wraith handprint on your chest that tells me you're even more of an anomaly than I am."
"But it didn't extend to these," he said, indicating the screen where another scan, with a different algorithm was running.
"I need you to help analyse the data we got from the Ancient research. That'll take several hours to run, won't it?"
Zelenka nodded. "I have something to do first."
***
Carson looked up as the infirmary doors opened and Radek walked in, looking a little tentative. Carson rose and went to him. "Are you okay, love?"
Radek shook his head. "Result of the first scan was only seventy-three percent. I'm running some other scans, but..."
Carson nodded. "It's not likely to improve much beyond that, is it?"
"Not enough, no."
"Did you need me?" Carson asked.
Radek's fingers brushed against his face. "Always, milacku. But right now, I need to see Dr. Northrup, if she is awake."
Carson nodded and pointed to the bed where the frail form of Jenelle Northrup lay. His lover squared his shoulders and walked over to her.
She smiled at him and held out her hand. He took it gently.
"It isn't good news, is it?"
"No. I'm sorry. I've tried. I'm still trying. But..."
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I should have been more careful, taken more time..."
"You had no way of knowing," she answered, her voice quavering. "And you didn't have the time to waste. You needed to know whether to mount a rescue. A moment longer and Eric would have been dead and we'd be comforting Jack right now. And maybe John, too, though I think the wraith were leaving Rodney till last."
Radek shivered. He'd seen the emptiness in John's eyes when they thought Rodney might have been one of the nine. He never wanted to see that emptiness again. "Maybe I didn't have time. Maybe I still could have been more careful. I'll never know. And I wanted you to know that I'm sorry, but that I'm still trying--"
"Radek, sweetie," she interrupted, squeezing his hand, "I don't blame you. But if you need it, you're forgiven, okay?"
"How can you just forgive me?" he asked, amazed.
"My grandmother used to say, 'I'm too old and weak to carry hate around.' I thought it was stupid at the time, but I understand it now." She closed her eyes, tears streaking down her face. "I love... loved her, you know."
"I know," he answered.
"If you ever do figure it out... and I'm already gone... promise me you'll tell her."
"I will," he swore.
And then she was sobbing, grieving, because even if he could bring Liliana back today, their relationship would never be the same. He wrapped his arms around her, gently, tenderly, and wept.
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Caldwell, Beckett, Zelenka, big!Jack, mini!Jack, Kavanaugh
Relationships: McKay/Sheppard, Zelenka/Beckett, mini!Jack/Corrigan
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Smut, angst
Spoilers: None
Summary: Part 29 of the Broken Series
Disclaimer: The characters, the setting, etc. are NOT mine, even if I wish they were.
John moaned and pulled Rodney closer as he felt his husband trying to slip out of bed. "Stay, Rodney," he murmured.
"I wanted to get to work on the data--"
John pressed himself against his husband, erection pushed against Rodney's hip as he slid one hand through Rodney's chest hair, lightly brushing across the sensitive nipples. "Just a little while?"
"Mmm," Rodney said and John could see the conflict for just a moment, then Rodney sighed and smiled at him. "Okay. For a little while."
"That didn't take too much argument." John kissed his shoulder and then shifted so he could follow it to Rodney's throat with gentle kisses, licks, and sucks.
Rodney tipped his head back to give John's mouth free reign, closing his eyes and slipping his hands around to explore John's lean back and ass. "No, it didn't," he admitted. "You and your kinky cuddly ways make it hard to resist."
"Hey, it's not my fault you're such a soft, warm, sexy Rodney," John answered, grinning for a moment before returning his attention to Rodney's throat.
Rodney groaned. "Skinny-assed bastard!"
John straddled Rodney, grinning as he ground himself against Rodney's erection. "I don't hear you complaining when your cock's up my ass."
"My cock happens to like skinny-assed bastards."
"Just your cock?"
Rodney smiled. "Oh, the rest of me likes 'em just fine, as well. Especially this one," he said, tapping John's chest.
"Oh?"
"Hm. Yes. My mouth likes the way this one tastes when we kiss, likes the feel of his tongue fucking into it, likes the way his nipples get hard, likes the shape of his ears, the feel of his pulse when it kisses his throat, the way your toes wiggle when it sucks them, the way your cock feels sliding in and out over my tongue and into my throat and how it throbs as you come, likes how your back is so smooth and salty and sexy."
John shivered and reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the lube.
"And my hands... Oh, they like the feel of your chest hair, like the way your shoulder muscles tense up when you're on top of me, like being sucked, like how your hips feel when I'm holding you steady while I fuck you, like holding your hands, like how your balls are nice and heavy and just right, like how hot and smooth you are inside when I fingerfuck you and how the muscles in your ass squeeze when you come."
John prepared himself slowly, listening to Rodney talk, watching Rodney watching his fingers slip inside in slow, confident strokes.
"And my ass likes the feel of your fingers up inside me, and your cock... God, it loves your cock... and loved the feeling of your tongue last night."
John poured some more lube into his hand and slowly began stroking Rodney's erection, slicking it up. Rodney fell silent with a gasp. "Go on," John encouraged.
Rodney swallowed hard and shuddered. "Uh... m-my eyes... my eyes love the way you look at me... your smile... the way your eyes go dark when you want me..." Like they were now. "They love how you look when you're comi-- Oh, God! Ohhh... you feel so good..."
He lost the ability to speak as he fought to gain control. He closed his eyes and thought of how to model a 17-dimensional universe -- his current theory -- and whether time flowed in only one direction along all sixteen other dimensions until the urge to come subsided a bit. He opened his eyes to find John smiling down at him in amusement.
"Should I ask why you're smiling?"
"I think you're cute when you're trying to hold back so I can come first."
Rodney grinned at him. "My eyes love the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you're really happy."
"Why, Rodney, I do believe you're being a romantic sap."
"Say that again and I'll just roll us over and fuck you into the mattress and not worry about whether you come or not."
John shuddered at that, closed his eyes and began fucking himself on Rodney hard and fast.
"My cock definitely loves your skinny ass, though..."
"Yeah..." John moaned.
"How... hot and... God!... tight and... oh, yeah... smooth and... dee-- deeper... godyes... ohgodyes... nnngg... John!"
"Rod... ney!"
***
Colonel Steven Caldwell scowled at the chaplain as he entered the mess, glanced around for a moment, and then waved at Novak. The commander of the Daedalus watched the man get a tray, congenially take what was offered, and head over to Novak's table.
It was, he supposed, completely illogical to mistrust a chaplain, but he did. Fortunately, he wouldn't be putting up with the man much longer.
It had all started with the pictures.
General O'Neill had studied the pictures Caldwell had dumped on his desk. Caldwell had concentrated on military personnel for the most part -- starting with Sheppard in his dress blues, molten desire in his eyes that came through loud and clear in the picture as he sucked Dr. Rodney McKay's fingers. He knew O'Neill would probably shrug that one off -- it was Sheppard and McKay's wedding, after all. But then several pictures followed -- Doctors Weir and Heightmeyer dancing in each other's arms, laughing; Major Lorne and Lieutenant Cadman practically having sex right there on the dance floor; several of Marines paired off with same-sex partners, hands or faces much too close; others of officers and enlisted or those in direct command and their underlings in similar states. The last one was of young Jack O'Neill with the dark-haired man that Caldwell had determined was anthropologist Dr. Eric Corrigan, seven years young Jack's senior. The first couple were of them dancing, suggestive of sexual tension but not damning, but the last was the kiss that had been caught in the reflection.
O'Neill had a good poker face. He had looked up from the pictures and lifted his eyebrows. "And?"
"I wanted you to see, sir, what a dangerous breakdown in discipline is happening because of the protocols."
"It was a wedding, Colonel. People dance."
"It was a gay wedding and people don't usually dance with others of the same sex, especially on slow songs."
"I'm well aware that it was a gay wedding, Colonel. And, unfortunately for those in Atlantis, men outnumber the women five to two. That means at a social event such as this, men are going to have to either dance with other men or sit out. It was a gay wedding, as you say, so a guy can't be blamed for thinking he can dance with the closest convenient warm body with no repercussions -- either from his superiors or from the owner of that warm body."
"And the fraternisation?"
"Is also understandable, given the circumstances."
Caldwell had pulled out the picture of Lorne and Cadman. "That," he had said, jabbing his finger at the couple, "isn't just a case of the closest convenient warm body, sir. If those two aren't lovers, I'll eat my hat. And that is a definite threat to the chain of command."
O'Neill had rolled his eyes. "It isn't like he can drop by the local bar in his off-hours to meet someone not in his chain of command. Who, exactly, is Major Lorne supposed to date, Colonel?"
"No one. Or one of the scientists."
"None of whom may share enough in common with him to make a viable relationship."
"If it's vital to his happiness, he'll make it work, sir," Caldwell had answered.
"True, with a great deal of effort, family support, and relationship counseling, an odd pairing might be made to work. But, Atlantis certainly doesn't have those resources easily to hand." O'Neill had considered Caldwell. "You do understand that's why the Protocols were put in place to begin with? Some of these people had been there for over a year, most without anything remotely resembling leave, watching buddies die in truly horrific fashion. They need the outlets of friendship, romance, and, yes, plain old sex. We needed to set appropriate standards of behaviour and we couldn't be holding the civilians and the military to different standards. The civilians would balk to suddenly finding themselves held to military standards. And, frankly, because the Atlantis mission is so small, there's no non-Atlantian population for them to seek relationships with, and we don't want them compromised by getting involved with a member of an unknown alien civilisation, we had to rework the fraternisation policies."
Caldwell had pulled out the picture of young Jack and Corrigan. "And you had to scrap 'Don't ask; don't tell' as well?"
Jack had met his eyes with a cold, hard stare. "Yes. The same problems facing a straight person on Atlantis were nearly insurmountable for a gay one. Dr. Weir made a strong argument for recognising healthy relationships -- gay or straight -- as a necessary component to the survival of the Atlantis mission. She also argued that a relationship that must be hidden isn't liable to be terribly healthy and could be more damaging to the mission than the possibly negative morale generated by allowing open gay relationships. I agreed with her. If you don't, that's your business. But you're still under my command and you will accept my decisions."
"Yes, sir," Caldwell had answered. "I just wanted to make you aware, sir, that this relationship involving your 'nephew' may also have repercussions for you. People might... conclude certain things about your... ah... disposition."
O'Neill had given him an annoyed look. "The military cares about behaviour, not dispositions. I seem to recall you mentioning at one point that alcoholism runs in your family. How would you feel if we decided that since you may have a disposition toward alcoholism that you should be treated just as if you were an alcoholic? I may or may not have a certain disposition, but unless you have some proof of conduct unbecoming an officer, I highly suggest you stop asking or hinting at asking a certain question. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir," Caldwell had gritted out.
"But, I will say one thing these pictures have brought to mind," O'Neill had said.
"Yes, sir?"
"Atlantis really needs a chaplain."
So now here he was, watching sourly, as Lieutenant Nelson Gilchrist chatted amiably with Novak. Novak's loyalty to the Atlantian science team and to Dr. McKay and his outrageous marriage was well-known. That she had almost immediately befriended the chaplain he'd hoped would bring some moral high ground to Atlantis did not bode well. If he didn't think Hermiod would rebel, he'd have asked to transfer her off his ship.
***
Carson walked into the infirmary, stifling a yawn. "Good morning," he greeted Allison. "How are our patients?"
"Still asleep for the most part. Dr. Kavanaugh's awake, though. He's been complaining of a headache."
Carson nodded and turned to the scientist on the bed. Kavanaugh did look rather wan. Carson patted his arm. "I need to check in on Dr. Corrigan briefly and then we'll see about that headache of yours."
"Couldn't you just give me something?"
"Not till I know what's causing it. I'm sorry."
Kavanaugh nodded, biting his lip. "Just hurry."
"All right, lad. I won't be but a moment."
Young Jack O'Neill was asleep, head on Corrigan's bed, arms thrown protectively over his lover's legs, one of Eric's hands curled around his face. Carson wondered how anyone could see the two together and say the harsh things he had heard. Of course, the problem was that most of those slanderers hadn't seen them together.
He stepped behind the chair Jack was half-sleeping in and gently touched the pilot's back. "Lieutenant? Jack?"
"Hm?" Jack said, starting slightly.
"Have ye been here all night, son?"
Jack blinked, sitting up, and then grimaced as he tried to stretch protesting muscles. "Uh... yeah, I guess so."
"You need to get some sleep in a real bed."
"But... Eric--"
"Has been dosed heavily with painkillers as well as an anticonvulsant that has drowsiness as a side-effect. He's not going to be conscious terribly often for a couple of days. I'll call you if he wakes up and needs you, son. I understand the need to be with loved ones to aid in healing. But, I also don't need you getting ill from exhausting yourself. So, unless I call you, I don't want to see you in here for another four hours or so. Understood?"
Jack smiled and saluted saucily. "Yes, sir."
Carson chuckled. "Now get on with ye."
He quickly checked Corrigan's chart and vitals, frowning at the sloppy recording Gen had done in the middle of the night. Ah, she'd gotten off a column, he saw, and had to fix it. Probably got in a hurry. He nodded, satisfied at Corrigan's progress. Temperature was a bit high. He mentally adjusted the thermostat and pulled off one of the two blankets Gen had left on him, folding it up and setting it on top of the one she'd left folded up earlier.
He then went back out to talk to Kavanaugh.
***
They held each other, letting their breathing calm and their heart rates slow.
Rodney sighed, kissed John, and tried to get up. John tightened his hold.
"John, I have to go!"
"Huh-uh. Have to stay here..."
"I have to start analysing the data we got from the Ancient research lab."
John tried pouting. "It'll still be there in a few hours."
"I have a meeting with Lorne's team in a few hours. I can't put this off."
"Sure you can. You're in charge."
Rodney sighed. "I can't because the whole science team is champing at the bit to get their hands on the data... to make it mean something... especially Radek."
"Just Radek?" John asked quietly.
Rodney shuddered. "And me. I watched Achebe die, John. I heard Northrup being drained. Four people are dead and one almost dead because I ordered them to that planet. I need to know if it was worth it."
"And if it isn't?"
"Then my life... our life is going to be hell for a while and I'll apologise now, just in case."
John hugged him. "Okay. Meet me for lunch?"
"I'll try. Radio me when it's close to time."
"Sure."
***
Radek ate a powerbar for breakfast as he read the results of the scan of the wraith transport device that he had left running. Not good enough. Nine people. Juarez. Zacharias. Seven people whose names and faces he would probably never know.
How did you atone for that?
***
"All right. I believe it may be a side effect of the anticonvulsant we've had you on. We were going to take you off it today anyway," Carson said, as he injected a painkiller into Kavanaugh's IV port.
The scientist frowned. "Why exactly am I on an anticonvulsant? I thought it was just the fever--"
"It's standard procedure in the case of severe brain injury to do a two-week course of anticonvulsant therapy. After that, unless you've had a seizure during that time, the treatment is stopped."
Kavanaugh nodded. "So... am I... going to get to stay here on Atlantis?"
Carson took Kavanaugh's left hand. "Squeeze," he ordered.
Kavanaugh's grip was poor at best and uncoordinated. He looked grim.
"We'll see how you respond to physical therapy," Carson answered. "But I'll be honest with ye, son. If you don't put a lot of effort into it, I doubt very seriously that I can justify keeping you here, even if you are as brilliant as Rodney says."
"Wh-what? Dr. McKay... What?!"
Carson smiled. "Don't look so surprised. He's been in your corner all along, even when Dr. Weir wanted you transferred back to Earth."
Kavanaugh blinked. "R-really?"
"Yes, son. Really." Carson leaned forward conspiratorially. "But, please, don't ever let on that I told ye that or Rodney will be intolerable."
"Is he ever tolerable?" Kavanaugh asked, only half-joking.
Carson grinned. "Only to those he thinks are too weak to stand up to him."
***
Rodney's hand landed on Radek's shoulder as he looked over his head at the screen before him. "Hey," he said, gently, "you okay?"
Radek lifted his face out of his hands. "I can't do this, Rodney. I can't get enough data back."
Rodney sighed, considering him. "You knew it was likely impossible when you started the scan."
"You manage to do the impossible all the time."
"When you work for the government long enough, you learn to hedge your bets," McKay answered.
"I know you are not always hedging your bets, Rodney. I am not government employee in monkey suit who doesn't understand what you're talking about."
"I've been lucky," Rodney admitted. "Definitely well outside the probabilities."
"Unfortunately, I haven't been so lucky."
"Are you kidding me? You have a wraith handprint on your chest that tells me you're even more of an anomaly than I am."
"But it didn't extend to these," he said, indicating the screen where another scan, with a different algorithm was running.
"I need you to help analyse the data we got from the Ancient research. That'll take several hours to run, won't it?"
Zelenka nodded. "I have something to do first."
***
Carson looked up as the infirmary doors opened and Radek walked in, looking a little tentative. Carson rose and went to him. "Are you okay, love?"
Radek shook his head. "Result of the first scan was only seventy-three percent. I'm running some other scans, but..."
Carson nodded. "It's not likely to improve much beyond that, is it?"
"Not enough, no."
"Did you need me?" Carson asked.
Radek's fingers brushed against his face. "Always, milacku. But right now, I need to see Dr. Northrup, if she is awake."
Carson nodded and pointed to the bed where the frail form of Jenelle Northrup lay. His lover squared his shoulders and walked over to her.
She smiled at him and held out her hand. He took it gently.
"It isn't good news, is it?"
"No. I'm sorry. I've tried. I'm still trying. But..."
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I should have been more careful, taken more time..."
"You had no way of knowing," she answered, her voice quavering. "And you didn't have the time to waste. You needed to know whether to mount a rescue. A moment longer and Eric would have been dead and we'd be comforting Jack right now. And maybe John, too, though I think the wraith were leaving Rodney till last."
Radek shivered. He'd seen the emptiness in John's eyes when they thought Rodney might have been one of the nine. He never wanted to see that emptiness again. "Maybe I didn't have time. Maybe I still could have been more careful. I'll never know. And I wanted you to know that I'm sorry, but that I'm still trying--"
"Radek, sweetie," she interrupted, squeezing his hand, "I don't blame you. But if you need it, you're forgiven, okay?"
"How can you just forgive me?" he asked, amazed.
"My grandmother used to say, 'I'm too old and weak to carry hate around.' I thought it was stupid at the time, but I understand it now." She closed her eyes, tears streaking down her face. "I love... loved her, you know."
"I know," he answered.
"If you ever do figure it out... and I'm already gone... promise me you'll tell her."
"I will," he swore.
And then she was sobbing, grieving, because even if he could bring Liliana back today, their relationship would never be the same. He wrapped his arms around her, gently, tenderly, and wept.