Ardhanarishvara Part Thirty - The End!
Ardhanarishvara 1-20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
~*~
Less joyous: the four-hour debrief.
Sheppard really, really hates the bureaucracy.
Their counselors, along with Jari, Gean, Selh, and several Hermean bigwigs (that are never introduced to them, thanks a bunch, assholes) question them about their experience of Gestalt, their reactions, and their memories. Sheppard keeps her answers pretty neutral. Teyla is actually enthusiastic and wordy about that, which counterweights Ronon's less than thrilled but also pretty brief opinions. Rodney, of course, spends his time trying to get down in writing everything he learned in Gestalt and answers most questions either with long theories or sophisticated insults, sometimes both at once.
Business as usual. Which actually helps Sheppard to relax, or at least look that way. She grimaces to herself. No choice but to keep these answers neutral, because even now she's still seething, a little, with a sort of betrayed anger.
There's no way they're actually going to be able to power the cloak the Hermeans are offering them.
Atlantis doesn't have ZPMs sitting around to drain, and there's only four of them, which isn't enough to maintain a Gestalt for long, or for more more than lighting up a few systems. She doubts many Lanteans are going to volunteer for Completion, which they don't have the tech to undergo anyway; everybody would have to go to Hermea again. Plus, Sheppard's pretty sure the only reason Rodney managed the Hard Path is a mix of understanding high-energy physics, love for Atlantis, and sheer stubborn force of will.
In the end, the four of them made it work, but now, Sheppard suspects they could have done it from the beginning...but only them, perhaps a few others: not all of Atlantis. She and Rodney and Teyla and Ronon are attuned to each other in a way most folks don't get, couldn't get unless they were to go through everything they've gone through together, as well; not that Sheppard would wish that upon anyone. They're a team. Hermeans, with their advanced civilian culture, didn't have any understanding of their dynamics, didn't even consider that this Lantean delegation could be as advanced as their oh-so-enlightened people right where it mattered.
Then again, there's what they say about hindsight. Maybe she's just being bitter. Not that this is such a surprise, seeing as they just spent six months buying a bunch of useless junk, basically. She's not looking forward to explaining to Elizabeth or making out the reports for the SGC and the IOA.
At last, a silver lining. As expected, the nameless politicians aren't so hot on Team Sheppard getting their grubby paws on the precious Cloak, but their Hermeans argue eloquently in favor of sharing. Jari, Selh, and Zeah are especially vocal, but so is Deln; even Beon makes some very succinct points about the need to allow others access to the Gestalt. Figures, Sheppard thinks, of course she'd focus on that part, not the actual purpose of powering up much-needed planetary defenses. Either way, the Hermeans are going to hold up the rest of the agreement: put them back the way they originally arrived.
And this the Hermeans have down to a routine, of course. Sheppard forces herself to smile through a last round of Hermean send-offs into the unknown, forces herself not to look too closely at Jari hugging Rodney quite enthusiastically, and then leaves Rodney with Teyla and Ronon in the same waiting room they used before. She's grateful to be going first, because her hands are sweating again. Just the thought of waiting through the hours it will take to change Teyla and Ronon both back makes her twitch.
Apparently this is so everyday, she doesn't even rate a doctor, just this perky technician in a candy pink cat suit and ponytail. Sheppard follows her down a long, aquamarine-painted hall into the same room she remembers from last time.
"Strip and shower first," the technician says. She points to a washroom attached. "Then we'll take a scan, to make sure there are no conditions that would preclude the procedure." She smiles. "I'm Jeli, by the way."
"John Sheppard." She sets down the pack she's brought with clothes that will fit her male body. The impulse to dance a little jig is quickly overwhelmed by nervousness. Last time she knew what was going to happen, but at the same time she didn't know. This time, well, she really still doesn't know. The whole experience is a blur in her memory.
"Nice to meet you."
"Yeah."
Jeli just smiles at her.
"I'll just, I'll go and shower," Sheppard says in the expectant silence that follows. She feels like an idiot.
The washroom is cold. It's blue too, with very bright, very unforgiving lights, and a shiver runs through her the minute her bare feet touch the tile floor. Once she's stripped down to zilch it's even worse, and she dives into the shower hoping it will be warmer. The minute the water hits her she yelps, because she wanted warmer, not a scalding boil designed to cook her skin off. There's something in the water that stings like an alcohol bath, too.
She rushes through as fast as she can and still actually wash everything and steps out with another gasp at the unpleasant contrast of the air temperature.
What the hell is it with discomfort and medical facilities? Earth, Atlantis, and now Hermea, all supposedly high tech societies, but she thinks they could spend a little more effort on the whole comfort aspect of medical care.
She dries off, then wraps the towel around herself and walks out into the main room.
"Towel off," Jeli tells her from the scanner console. "Just step onto the circle on the pedestal and hold still."
Sheppard tosses the towel back into the washroom and endures three different scans, the lights washing up and down her naked body. Finally, Jeli looks up and smiles.
"Everything looks good. You're not pregnant."
Sheppard gulps.
"Good news," she croaks. Biro had made sure she was careful and safe, safe enough that this is the first time she'd really thought about the possibility and what it could have meant. She's relieved that the whole Completion experience doesn't include learning what it feels like to give birth. The damn periods were bad enough.
"So, if you're ready, we'll continue," Jeli says.
"I'm ready."
Jeli walks her over to a pod-ish piece of equipment. With the lid up, one side is open so that she can sit on it like a bench. She doesn't remember this part at all from before. "Did I," Sheppard gestures at the pod bed, "before?" The whole thing reminds her of the virtual reality/stasis pods on the Aurora. She just hopes there aren't any monsters in this environment. The thought makes her shudder.
"You must have, yes." Jeli hands Sheppard a small paper cup of a thick yellow liquid. "Here. To help you remain calm through the preliminary portion of the procedure."
Sheppard has goose flesh all over. Due strictly to being naked in a cold room, she assures herself, but she tosses the stuff down, grimacing at the too-sweet, cough syrup taste.
Jeli is busy checking the read-outs at the head of the pod-thing. Sheppard sits and considers her own hands and wrists, her breasts, and down to her thighs. This is it. No more being a woman. She's pretty used to it by now, really, but still. There's a twinge of regret, too, because Rodney's never going to slide inside her again the way he did just that morning, relaxed and easy, her orgasm a rush like the sun coming up, bright and hot.
Thinking about that has Sheppard feeling really warm. She doesn't realize she's swaying alarmingly until Jeli catches her shoulder to steady her. Everything feels so fuzzy she doesn't even mind lying down compliantly at Jeli's urging. Part of her is still just clear enough to think she'd be embarrassed if she wasn't so stoned. Calm, her ass. The pod's really pretty comfortable, though, and any other thoughts just slide away for a while until a sharp sensation down below snaps her back to herself, briefly.
"Ow," she protests.
Jeli's doing something awfully familiar between her legs. Oh, damn. Is that a catheter? She'd lift her head and check, but her body's so damn heavy and it doesn't seem worth the effort, the sensation fading away, already. A giggle slips out. Make a note, she thinks; catheters suck for both sexes.
A note. She gropes around for a pen to write that down. Her fingers are numb. So are her toes. Or maybe they're gone. That shouldn't be possible, but this is Hermea; they made her dick go away, before.
She lifts her hand to check that it's still there. Yup. All five fingers, er, four fingers and one thumb, all accounted for. Maybe her dick is back, too, and she just can't feel it either. She flops her hand down, trying to find it.
"Please stay still," Jeli says. She takes Sheppard's hand and sets it back next to her. "Just relax."
"If I get any more relaxed," she slurs, "there's going to be a puddle."
"Don't worry about it."
"Okay," Sheppard says. Must be what the catheter's for. She tries to wriggle her toes but can't tell if they move or not, or even if they're there. She hopes they are. She'd fall over without her toes, she's pretty sure.
Sheppard blinks at the ceiling. It's so blue and it's moving. Like an event horizon. She hopes she doesn't fall in. She'd have to swim. That'd be hard with no fingers or toes. Fish do it. She could swim like a fish. But that's silly. It's not a wormhole, it's the sky. Rodney would snort and talk about Chicken Little. But she's not chicken, no sirree, she's a colonel, but not a full bird. Got no eagles. Chickens eat eagles. Ooops. She giggles to herself. Eagles eat chickens. Maybe there'll be fried chicken in the mess when they go home. That'd be good.
Jeli's still doing...stuff. Some of it tingles.
No, it itches.
She tries to squirm, but can't move. Everything feels weird, floaty and hot, as if there there are ants tripping around in her veins. The happy stoned feeling is fading away; she wants it back.
"Try to go to sleep," Jeli says and closes the lid of the pod.
Gray creeps around the edges of her vision, promising unconsciousness soon. Sheppard sinks into it gratefully.
There are dreams, darkness shot with stabbing red cramps, but nothing can drag her into wakefulness until it is over.
~*~
It takes a while to register the pod is open and it's the blue ceiling above, again. At least it isn't moving, anymore. That might lead to puking.
She....
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, God. There - damn. Was his dick always...taking up that much room between his legs? It feels strange and wrong and coldly vulnerable, lying against his thigh, and his balls seem huge and heavy.
He can't wait for his hands to move, but, unfortunately, he has to, bodily sensation returning before volition does.
A deep breath reminds him of another change, of the breasts no longer riding on his chest, shifting and bobbling with each breath in and out. His nipples still feel extraordinarily sensitive, tight in the chill of the room.
Sheppard finally manages to lever himself up on his elbows and look down. Strange to see all that dark hair on his chest, arrowing down over his abdomen to his familiar package.
There it is. Dick and balls look the way he remembers.
Sheppard glances around, but Jeli isn't in the room. No one is, no monitoring or testing, so he carefully runs his fingers down the line of hair starting at his navel. It makes him shiver.
This would all be a bigger relief if it weren't for the stickiness he realizes is drying all over him, along with the pool of unspeakable fluids that seems to have exuded from every pore to stain the inside of the pod. He doesn't want to think about it. Please let the shower be available again, even if it is too hot.
His knees almost fold when he tries to hop off the pod bed, but a quick clutch at the edge saves him from face-planting. Sheppard staggers to the washroom, intent on getting clean and maybe reacquainted with his body.
Once the water is started, he ends up slumped down on the floor of the shower, blindly running his hands over his skin. Down here, closer to the cool floor, the water temperature is bearable. It's all so odd - is this really the way he looked and felt before? - but he recognizes himself, recognizes every sensation from the pull of wet body hair to the weight of his own balls on his palm. His dick manages a small twitch at the thought of the way he's cradled Rodney's testicles, wondering if maybe Rodney will do the same for him.
Sheppard looks down at his dick, feeling bemused. He'd forgotten the way it sometimes has a mind of its own, responding to his thoughts despite strange circumstances. He gives it a lazy, affectionate stroke just to feel the familiar sensations, then stops himself from doing anything further. He's not going to jerk off in an alien shower after his second sex change; that's just a little desperate.
Besides, he feels weak and shaky, as exhausted as he's ever been, and isn't sure he's going to even make it out of the shower any time soon. If he doesn't, he sure doesn't want Jeli or anyone else coming to check and finding him dick in hand.
The hot water pounds down on his head and then his neck, once he ducks his head. It tattoos against his back. Before the faint hint of arousal fades, he's left with a good look at his dick, familiar as his palm (and haven't they been familiar with each other over the years), complete with that faint bend to the right that embarrassed him when he was a teenager.
Vaguely, he wonders if the uneven labia, the ones he'd seen in the hand mirror he'd used to look, the first night of the sex change, were a translation of that asymmetry.
Remembers the grin on Rodney's flushed face, his words. "Perfect symmetry is boring in everything but mathematical proofs."
Sheppard had flushed hot red the very first time Rodney had gone down on her, the whole thing so intimate, intense in a way she couldn't remember any other act being. Rodney had licked and licked and then sucked, until Sheppard had been squirming and twisting, coming with a breathless whimper. Kissing Rodney, only half hearing him say, "You're perfect to me, we fit; my mouth and your pussy, they match up, don't you see?" she'd laughed, because she knew that, felt that, and he was busy pushing his fingers inside her so she'd been coming again.
He has to brace one hand on the floor of the shower, then, because the memory of how Rodney had made her come, then and many times afterwards, is getting him hard in a blinding rush, now. Turned out Rodney's mouth wasn't just good at playing with words, and, oh, yeah, he really liked it, too: liked making her curse and whimper as he pushed his head between her legs, liked making her shake and clutch at him before he smirked and bent down (or up, depending on their positions) and got to work with that clever tongue of his.
Suddenly, he can't finish washing up fast enough, because he needs to see Rodney and know if it's still going to be that good, that this hasn't cost them something, this return to being a man rather than a woman. He pulls himself to his feet and snags another towel, then stumbles out, nearly tripping into Jeli.
"You're awake already?"
"Um," he says. "Yeah," he says, although the answer is really sort of obvious.
She steadies him and then leads him to a chair. "You shouldn't be up yet."
"Okay, yeah, but I need - I need to see Rodney. Can you go get him?"
Jeli hesitates.
John looks up at her through his wet eyelashes, trying to look as harmless and cute as Thumper in Bambi, blinking as water slides out of his hair and into his eyes. "Please."
"It's against standard procedure," she murmurs, but already, her eyes are shifting away from his pleading gaze. Lookin' good.
Sheppard tries to get up, but it doesn't work and he sits with a thump. "Please," he says again. "We're not from here. We - I really need a few minutes with him in private. Just Rodney."
"Well." She hesitates. "I don't see what it could hurt." She pats his shoulder, then turns towards the exit. "Stay right here until I get back."
"I promise."
~*~
Rodney's attended religious rituals that took longer than this and endured departmental meetings that went longer. Maybe. Plus, he hates them. Those experiences aren't making this any more bearable, let alone keeping him from pacing back and forth through the waiting room, now. Three hours! That's amazing, objectively, and Carson would be creaming himself to go over their equipment, but right now it just seems intolerably long.
That's what he tells himself as he spins on his heel and starts back toward the couches where Teyla is meditating and Ronon is stretched out, eyes closed and, for God's sake, snoring!
He really doesn't know how Ronon can nap at a time like this. What if something terrible has gone wrong? What if Sheppard's in trouble, in pain, or even just being hit on by that blonde medical technician? After all, what kind of professional wears hot pink?
The kind who is standing in the doorway, gesturing for Rodney to come over.
"Please come with me."
"Why? What's happened? Oh, God, something really has gone wrong. You've turned the Colonel into a giant puddle of protoplasm, haven't you?"
The tech sniffs. "He wants to see you."
"He? He?" Rodney stalls out and splutters. "Oh! You, he, it's over? Everything is -"
"Everything is fine," the tech says, a trifle snippily, and points at the door. "Try to keep him from doing anything too strenuous until the last of the sedative wears off. I'll leave you alone."
Rodney nods and cautiously goes through the door.
Sheppard is slumped on a bench, soaking wet and wrapped in a single towel, water dripping between his bare feet. His head jerks up as Rodney comes in and a wide smile lights his narrow, handsome, completely male again face.
"Rodney."
"Colonel!"
Sheppard's expression falls a little and Rodney breaks, rushing over. "You're all wet. How could that incompetent little twit leave you here all wet? It's freezing in here. Just stay there. Where are the towels, where are your clothes, do you feel all right, is everything -" He waves his hand toward the towel around Sheppard's waist. "- you know. Back."
Sheppard just blinks at him before nodding. "Yeah. Everything's, you know, back."
Rodney has to roll his eyes then, before spotting the door to the washroom and retrieving a handful of towels that he uses to dry Sheppard's hair and then the rest of him. Sheppard's still unsteady, but he seems to object to Rodney helping him dress; nothing that an impromptu little tug-of-war doesn't fix, though.
"Rodney."
"What? Don't be such a baby, or actually, wait, don't act as if you weren't still weak like one and needing some capable hands."
Rodney ignores Sheppard's clumsy fumbling, finding a pair of boxers and pulling them up Sheppard's legs. There's a low thrum of tension in the way Sheppard holds himself still for that, but when Rodney looks up at Sheppard, questioning, he gives Rodney a curt, almost military nod somewhat undercut by his blown pupils and uneven breathing. Here goes nothing. Rodney pushes the towel away to discover that there goes something, yes, indeed.
Rodney can't help staring for a heartbeat, or possibly two. No more than three, though.
Sheppard would probably hit him if he said he had a pretty dick.
Instead, Rodney lays his hand gently on the outside of Sheppard's hip and says, "Lift up."
This time, Sheppard doesn't even roll his eyes. He obligingly raises his hips, and Rodney pulls the boxers the rest of the way up, holding his breath as he carefully tucks Sheppard's dick and balls inside, promising himself he'll think about how they feel, warm and smooth and heavy, later. He feels inexplicably tender toward Sheppard's body, as if it might break if Rodney's isn't as gentle with it as he can be.
Sheppard's hand closes on his shoulder, and Rodney hears his breath hitch, ending in a small noise, but he doesn't say anything, just lets Rodney finish the job.
Eventually, Rodney ends up on the floor, tying the laces of Sheppard's boots, using the double knots Sheppard always uses without even thinking about it. He looks up. Sheppard's eyes are half-closed, his mouth open...and Rodney is transported to the morning in the team locker room when he did this for her.
God, he's going to miss those high boots. Maybe, if they still fit, he can get Sheppard to wear them again.
Sheppard's eyes narrow. "What are you thinking?"
"Boots," Rodney blurts.
Sheppard frowns, then grins, obviously remembering. "Good times."
Rodney straightens up and groans. Ow, ow, ow, his back. No more getting on his knees.
Somehow, Sheppard knows what he's thinking.
"You look good down there." A sly note in the twist of Sheppard's still criminally pretty mouth. His pupils remain huge and black, but Rodney has to admit that could still be an after-effect of the sedative. The earnest expression isn't, though.
"So do you," Rodney says without thinking.
Sheppard snorts and then does the little head-duck that means he's embarrassed, or pleased. Or both. "What do you say we get out of here?" he says.
He's getting to his feet before Rodney can answer, so Rodney scrambles up, just to be ready in case Sheppard keels over.
When he's on his feet, Sheppard steps right into his personal space and places his hands around Rodney's face. He looks at him intently. This, Rodney thinks, is where they kiss, except Sheppard isn't moving.
"What are you waiting for?" Rodney demands, but his voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Come on, you know I'm a sure thing."
At that, Sheppard laughs, a throaty but very male sound. "Yeah, I can always count on you."
And the 'you' is half-swallowed by their kiss. Sheppard's lips are still soft, only now there's the tiniest hint of bristling stubble; no wonder, with Sheppard starting to sport five o'clock shadow around noon. Rodney has gotten used to Sheppard's both slimmer and curvier form in the last six months, but the feel of his hair between Rodney's fingers is the same, cool, silky, irrepressible. The way his tongue sweeps into Rodney's mouth is the same, too, and the way Sheppard is intent on the kiss, forgetting to even breathe until he has to.
Sheppard pulls back a fraction of an inch, smiles against Rodney's lips, impishly. Rocks his hips, and that's new, really new, but then again, judging from the hot zing that runs through Rodney's body, he can safely conclude that it all works, if not quite the same, then just as well, because, oh, yes, and please, more.
He grins at Sheppard. "Just think of me as your go-to guy."
At that, the laugh, the damned donkey laugh, is back. "Well, you've got me going."
Rodney groans at that, and the sound is not entirely due to the terrible nature of the pun.
Only the loud cough behind them makes Rodney realize that oh, right. Rest of the world, still there. Well, the clinic technician, anyway; she's smiling at them. Sheppard hides his face against Rodney's neck for a breath - hot against the skin under his ear - before stepping away. Rodney feels a bit warm, himself. Like his skin and his boxers are both a size smaller. He hastily busies himself with his shirt, but a glance down at Sheppard's front doesn't show him anything. Well, now he knows why the man wears his pants so baggy. Sometimes he just needs all that extra room. Rodney might have to look into the same strategy.
In any case, Rodney decides to look up again, puts on his best business-like manner. "Well, fine, that was that, very good; time to move on."
"So, is everything all right with you?" the tech asks.
He looks back at Sheppard. Whose ears are pink. Then again, Rodney does not even want to look in the mirror to check his own appearance right now. He clears his throat. "Yes, yes, fine, it's all fine. Better than, even. Downright spectacular."
Sheppard gives him a look under his lashes, then half-turns to the tech. He holds up his hands and wiggles them. "Ten fingers, ten toes. Everything else seems to be on the up and up."
Rodney chokes.
The technician's lips twitch, but only once. Undoubtedly, they are chosen for their serene and imperturbable personalities; God knows anything else has to result in unpleasant neuroses. "Then, if you'd follow me back to the waiting room? It will be perhaps a half hour before we're ready to continue with your teammates."
They follow as she goes on, "You will probably experience a heightened appetite for the next week."
"I'll say," mumbles Sheppard, loud enough for only Rodney to hear, clear enough for only Rodney to understand, and oh, God, they have unleashed a monster. Which is not actually different from sex and Sheppard in female form.
Teyla and Ronon take one look at Sheppard's male form and break out into huge smiles. Teyla's is perhaps even bigger than Ronon's.
Somewhere behind them, he hears a murmured, "I'll leave you for the moment and return when we're ready to continue," but Rodney's got more important things to worry about.
"You look good," Teyla says warmly, and Ronon immediately claps a hand on Sheppard's shoulder. Sheppard in turn, well, he beams at Ronon, for once not curling into himself upon being touched, his smile for Teyla bright and unguarded.
"Yeah, well. Nothing you haven't seen before."
Ronon's speculative glance at that makes Rodney bristle. "Stop that, you hussy," he whispers.
"Hussy?" Ronon repeats. There's a grin. With teeth.
Rodney re-interprets the whole wisdom-valor theorem and retreats behind Sheppard. Sheppard, the bastard, just chuckles.
"You are truly back to your old self, John." And while Teyla sounds as relieved as before, there is a distinct tone of amusement in his voice now, along with relief and eagerness.
"Yup."
Sheppard looks indecently pleased, but Rodney can hardly blame him.
~*~
Sheppard keeps setting his hands on his hips, then jerking them away, tugging at his pants and rolling his shoulders. That, and rubbing at his slightly stubbly chin. Each time, he ducks his head to hide the smile that takes over his face. It looks like being a guy again is good in the Book of Sheppard. Rodney wonders if he took a few minutes to jerk off before coming back to the waiting room and rejoining the rest of the team.
He knows he damn well would have.
Then again. Rodney thinks of the kiss, the novel yet unmistakable pressure of an erection against him, and realizes Sheppard must not have masturbated. Or he has the refractory period of a hummingbird. Rodney flushes all the way down to his toes and looks sidelong at Sheppard. There'd been more than one hard-on involved in that clinch.
He can't wait to get back to Atlantis.
Sheppard catches his glance, ducks his head and licks his lower lip. Rodney almost groans and completely misses the technician asking Teyla to come with him.
Teyla takes off to undergo the reversion. The smile on his (soon to be once more her) face is even wider than Sheppard's. Rodney is impressed. It looks like Teyla is looking forward to this, and that's the understatement of the eon.
Ronon, on the other hand, is leaning against a wall, arms folded, a pensive frown on her face.
"Don't worry, buddy, as soon as Teyla's done, you'll get your turn," Sheppard says. "And it doesn't hurt."
"Not worried about that," Ronon says.
"So, what is furrowing that thunderous brow?" Rodney asks. "Because, clearly, something has crawled up your ass and died."
A chuff of laughter escapes Sheppard, deeper than Rodney has grown used to, but oh-so-familiar. It makes him shiver a little bit. Sometime tonight, after they return to Atlantis, escape from Carson and the rest of the medical department, and debrief with Elizabeth, he's going to go to Sheppard's room and they're going to find out if what was so good these last few months is still workable when they're both guys. It's scaring the hell out of him, and he'd guess, from the way Sheppard's eyes keep flickering to and away from him, that he's not alone in that.
"I don't want to."
"Don't want to what?" Rodney snaps, then his mouth drops open as his brain catches up and he stares.
"Change again," Ronon tells them, looking defiant.
"Have you suffered a recent head injury?" His voice is high enough to make Rodney wince himself.
"No."
Sheppard is gaping at Ronon. Ronon shifts, actually looking awkward for the first time in Rodney's memory. "Why?" Sheppard asks, simple and curious.
"Easier," Ronon says. Then adds, "It's separate. Like this...I'm not a Runner."
"You're still you," Rodney points out as gently as he knows how.
Ronon shrugs again. "Yeah, but...I like this sex. And I'm not that much weaker, not any slower than before." She glances at Sheppard. "You can't make me do this."
Sheppard backs away a step, almost stepping on Rodney's foot. His hand comes up in a 'stop' gesture. "What?"
"You aren't trying to tell me to change back, right?" Ronon asks.
"No," Sheppard replies, the word slow and drawn out. Rodney figures Sheppard is scrambling to decide what the right thing to say is. "I can't - I wouldn't tell you what to decide about something like this. Just...." He scrubs at the back of his neck and rolls his shoulders again. "Just be sure."
Ronon nods and relaxes back against the wall again. "I'm sure."
"Okay."
"I still think you're crazy, but it's up to you," Rodney adds. He settles down in a chair with a good view of the door so he'll be sure to see Teyla as soon as she returns. He doesn't want to think too much about Ronon's decision, because that might lead to thinking about if Sheppard had stayed a woman, and that way lies madness and a pissed-off...boyfriend, oh, wow, boyfriend in all likelihood. Also, he has to wonder what he would decide in the same situation. No, no, better to think about getting back to Atlantis and getting Sheppard naked again.
Sheppard sits down next to him and stretches his legs out, his long, long legs ending in a pair of black combat boots. They're shined, but Rodney can still tell they're Sheppard's old boots. They came prepared this time, each of them with a duffle holding a change of clothes.
Rodney nudges his shoulder against Sheppard's, which is warm and bony and narrow. Sheppard bumps him back, obviously comfortable in his skin. Rodney's thigh is pressed along his. Neither of them move. It feels too good.
He turns his head and follows Sheppard's gaze. Sheppard is watching Ronon, thoughtfully drawing his brows together. The light from the window is gilding Ronon's bare shoulders and muscled arms, smooth skin Rodney remembers touching. Sheppard probably remembers too, only not as a guy.
Rodney knows it's stupid, monumentally, colossally stupid, but he has to, just has to reassure Sheppard. Reassure himself regarding Sheppard. He reaches out and cups his hands around Sheppard's shoulder.
"Rodney?" As Sheppard speaks, he turns, and Rodney's grip must have been less firm than he'd thought, because his fingers slip, slide, to John's chest and black cotton t-shirt, flattening against his sternum; something Rodney would never have done while Sheppard had breasts.
Sheppard's gaze drops to Rodney's hand and instead of lifting it away, he gets this big, goofy grin on his face. Rodney wants to ask, Do you miss them? but it's still a little early to judge, and, besides, Sheppard looks pretty happy with his flat, male chest right this instant. Happy enough he doesn't mind Rodney pawing at him. Well, at least he hasn't reverted back to Colonel-Look-But-Don't-Touch.
Rodney lets out a big puff of air and, after sneaking a glance toward Ronon, who has turned to stare out the window, takes Sheppard's hand. It is warm and dry, and, after a breath, two breaths, Sheppard throws him a little sideways smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and curls his fingers around Rodney's.
In his studies, his work, he's been successful, victorious, triumphant, even, but Rodney thinks dimly that ridiculously little compares to how happy he feels just sitting and holding Sheppard's hand. And he can't ever do this in Atlantis. Not because of the two-guys thing, necessarily: Zelenka would never let him live it down if he even had a clue what a sentimental sap Rodney could be.
The door to the treatment area of the clinic slides open about then, saving him from making himself sick. Teyla almost skips into the waiting room, once again her beautiful self, smiling as wide and happy as Rodney's ever seen her.
"I am back."
And she is, different, but somehow better, or that's what it seems like. He recalls the last months, what he saw of Teyla. Her size didn't change much, just as Ronon and Sheppard stayed just about the same height, but, for some reason, she stands taller now. Again.
Rodney thinks it's probably...possibly...okay, fine, maybe okay if he gives her an appreciative once-over. And, oh, he's going to miss Sheppard's breasts, but Teyla's are back and just about perfect.
Motion to his left. Sheppard stands up, and while he doesn't exactly charge forward, he does take a few steps towards her, then puts his hands on his hips and leans a little closer. Rodney, following, has no idea how this loose posture translates into "affectionate" and "relieved," but somehow it does; that's John Sheppard for you, who as a general rule leads half his conversations via body language alone.
"Yeah, you really are. Back." A boyish grin. "It's good."
Rodney has no idea how Sheppard always manages to not step onto any female toes, not even when he's so clearly thinking about female bodies and that they're pretty. Rodney could chalk it up to shoes, walked a mile in yadda yadda yadda, but the truth is that John has always been this way with women: thoughtful without thinking. Rodney wonders if maybe that's his own problem.
"Yes, it is." That comes out with rather more force than necessary, and Teyla's tone of voice doesn't just convey relief but something that sounds like gratitude, immense and fathomless. Her face smoothes out again instantly, though, the usual good-will-to-all-men expression returned, and probably for good.
"Ronon?" Teyla addresses their fourth. "Are you not ready to return to yourself?" She gestures to the door.
"I'm not doing it," Ronon tells her.
Teyla's eyes widen and she opens her mouth; Rodney braces himself. Then she shakes her head, smiles, and says, "If that is your choice, Ronon, I will support you."
Rodney flicks his gaze to Sheppard, who is smiling at Teyla in approval. "It's good to see you back to yourself, too, Teyla," he says.
Heartfelt relief fills Rodney. He's probably about to say something uncharacteristically emotional, and therefore mortifying, when the door slides open again: Jari and that bird-boned doctor come hurrying through. They're both beaming.
"Rodney!" Jari exclaims. "Wonderful news!"
"What?"
"Dr. Pelh has finished analyzing your DNA. The additions from your gene therapy won't interfere with Completion, after all!"
"What?" He's pretty sure his voice squeaks like a mouse in a trap. A pretty good description of how he suddenly feels, too, as his team mates all turn to stare at him. He jumps to his feet and starts sidling toward the exit. "Oh, no. No, no, no."
"Oh, Rodney...." Sheppard singsongs, grinning madly, while Ronon moves to block Rodney's escape.
Teyla takes his arm. "It's an experience not to be missed, Rodney."
Rodney gulps.
THE END
...for now.
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
~*~
Less joyous: the four-hour debrief.
Sheppard really, really hates the bureaucracy.
Their counselors, along with Jari, Gean, Selh, and several Hermean bigwigs (that are never introduced to them, thanks a bunch, assholes) question them about their experience of Gestalt, their reactions, and their memories. Sheppard keeps her answers pretty neutral. Teyla is actually enthusiastic and wordy about that, which counterweights Ronon's less than thrilled but also pretty brief opinions. Rodney, of course, spends his time trying to get down in writing everything he learned in Gestalt and answers most questions either with long theories or sophisticated insults, sometimes both at once.
Business as usual. Which actually helps Sheppard to relax, or at least look that way. She grimaces to herself. No choice but to keep these answers neutral, because even now she's still seething, a little, with a sort of betrayed anger.
There's no way they're actually going to be able to power the cloak the Hermeans are offering them.
Atlantis doesn't have ZPMs sitting around to drain, and there's only four of them, which isn't enough to maintain a Gestalt for long, or for more more than lighting up a few systems. She doubts many Lanteans are going to volunteer for Completion, which they don't have the tech to undergo anyway; everybody would have to go to Hermea again. Plus, Sheppard's pretty sure the only reason Rodney managed the Hard Path is a mix of understanding high-energy physics, love for Atlantis, and sheer stubborn force of will.
In the end, the four of them made it work, but now, Sheppard suspects they could have done it from the beginning...but only them, perhaps a few others: not all of Atlantis. She and Rodney and Teyla and Ronon are attuned to each other in a way most folks don't get, couldn't get unless they were to go through everything they've gone through together, as well; not that Sheppard would wish that upon anyone. They're a team. Hermeans, with their advanced civilian culture, didn't have any understanding of their dynamics, didn't even consider that this Lantean delegation could be as advanced as their oh-so-enlightened people right where it mattered.
Then again, there's what they say about hindsight. Maybe she's just being bitter. Not that this is such a surprise, seeing as they just spent six months buying a bunch of useless junk, basically. She's not looking forward to explaining to Elizabeth or making out the reports for the SGC and the IOA.
At last, a silver lining. As expected, the nameless politicians aren't so hot on Team Sheppard getting their grubby paws on the precious Cloak, but their Hermeans argue eloquently in favor of sharing. Jari, Selh, and Zeah are especially vocal, but so is Deln; even Beon makes some very succinct points about the need to allow others access to the Gestalt. Figures, Sheppard thinks, of course she'd focus on that part, not the actual purpose of powering up much-needed planetary defenses. Either way, the Hermeans are going to hold up the rest of the agreement: put them back the way they originally arrived.
And this the Hermeans have down to a routine, of course. Sheppard forces herself to smile through a last round of Hermean send-offs into the unknown, forces herself not to look too closely at Jari hugging Rodney quite enthusiastically, and then leaves Rodney with Teyla and Ronon in the same waiting room they used before. She's grateful to be going first, because her hands are sweating again. Just the thought of waiting through the hours it will take to change Teyla and Ronon both back makes her twitch.
Apparently this is so everyday, she doesn't even rate a doctor, just this perky technician in a candy pink cat suit and ponytail. Sheppard follows her down a long, aquamarine-painted hall into the same room she remembers from last time.
"Strip and shower first," the technician says. She points to a washroom attached. "Then we'll take a scan, to make sure there are no conditions that would preclude the procedure." She smiles. "I'm Jeli, by the way."
"John Sheppard." She sets down the pack she's brought with clothes that will fit her male body. The impulse to dance a little jig is quickly overwhelmed by nervousness. Last time she knew what was going to happen, but at the same time she didn't know. This time, well, she really still doesn't know. The whole experience is a blur in her memory.
"Nice to meet you."
"Yeah."
Jeli just smiles at her.
"I'll just, I'll go and shower," Sheppard says in the expectant silence that follows. She feels like an idiot.
The washroom is cold. It's blue too, with very bright, very unforgiving lights, and a shiver runs through her the minute her bare feet touch the tile floor. Once she's stripped down to zilch it's even worse, and she dives into the shower hoping it will be warmer. The minute the water hits her she yelps, because she wanted warmer, not a scalding boil designed to cook her skin off. There's something in the water that stings like an alcohol bath, too.
She rushes through as fast as she can and still actually wash everything and steps out with another gasp at the unpleasant contrast of the air temperature.
What the hell is it with discomfort and medical facilities? Earth, Atlantis, and now Hermea, all supposedly high tech societies, but she thinks they could spend a little more effort on the whole comfort aspect of medical care.
She dries off, then wraps the towel around herself and walks out into the main room.
"Towel off," Jeli tells her from the scanner console. "Just step onto the circle on the pedestal and hold still."
Sheppard tosses the towel back into the washroom and endures three different scans, the lights washing up and down her naked body. Finally, Jeli looks up and smiles.
"Everything looks good. You're not pregnant."
Sheppard gulps.
"Good news," she croaks. Biro had made sure she was careful and safe, safe enough that this is the first time she'd really thought about the possibility and what it could have meant. She's relieved that the whole Completion experience doesn't include learning what it feels like to give birth. The damn periods were bad enough.
"So, if you're ready, we'll continue," Jeli says.
"I'm ready."
Jeli walks her over to a pod-ish piece of equipment. With the lid up, one side is open so that she can sit on it like a bench. She doesn't remember this part at all from before. "Did I," Sheppard gestures at the pod bed, "before?" The whole thing reminds her of the virtual reality/stasis pods on the Aurora. She just hopes there aren't any monsters in this environment. The thought makes her shudder.
"You must have, yes." Jeli hands Sheppard a small paper cup of a thick yellow liquid. "Here. To help you remain calm through the preliminary portion of the procedure."
Sheppard has goose flesh all over. Due strictly to being naked in a cold room, she assures herself, but she tosses the stuff down, grimacing at the too-sweet, cough syrup taste.
Jeli is busy checking the read-outs at the head of the pod-thing. Sheppard sits and considers her own hands and wrists, her breasts, and down to her thighs. This is it. No more being a woman. She's pretty used to it by now, really, but still. There's a twinge of regret, too, because Rodney's never going to slide inside her again the way he did just that morning, relaxed and easy, her orgasm a rush like the sun coming up, bright and hot.
Thinking about that has Sheppard feeling really warm. She doesn't realize she's swaying alarmingly until Jeli catches her shoulder to steady her. Everything feels so fuzzy she doesn't even mind lying down compliantly at Jeli's urging. Part of her is still just clear enough to think she'd be embarrassed if she wasn't so stoned. Calm, her ass. The pod's really pretty comfortable, though, and any other thoughts just slide away for a while until a sharp sensation down below snaps her back to herself, briefly.
"Ow," she protests.
Jeli's doing something awfully familiar between her legs. Oh, damn. Is that a catheter? She'd lift her head and check, but her body's so damn heavy and it doesn't seem worth the effort, the sensation fading away, already. A giggle slips out. Make a note, she thinks; catheters suck for both sexes.
A note. She gropes around for a pen to write that down. Her fingers are numb. So are her toes. Or maybe they're gone. That shouldn't be possible, but this is Hermea; they made her dick go away, before.
She lifts her hand to check that it's still there. Yup. All five fingers, er, four fingers and one thumb, all accounted for. Maybe her dick is back, too, and she just can't feel it either. She flops her hand down, trying to find it.
"Please stay still," Jeli says. She takes Sheppard's hand and sets it back next to her. "Just relax."
"If I get any more relaxed," she slurs, "there's going to be a puddle."
"Don't worry about it."
"Okay," Sheppard says. Must be what the catheter's for. She tries to wriggle her toes but can't tell if they move or not, or even if they're there. She hopes they are. She'd fall over without her toes, she's pretty sure.
Sheppard blinks at the ceiling. It's so blue and it's moving. Like an event horizon. She hopes she doesn't fall in. She'd have to swim. That'd be hard with no fingers or toes. Fish do it. She could swim like a fish. But that's silly. It's not a wormhole, it's the sky. Rodney would snort and talk about Chicken Little. But she's not chicken, no sirree, she's a colonel, but not a full bird. Got no eagles. Chickens eat eagles. Ooops. She giggles to herself. Eagles eat chickens. Maybe there'll be fried chicken in the mess when they go home. That'd be good.
Jeli's still doing...stuff. Some of it tingles.
No, it itches.
She tries to squirm, but can't move. Everything feels weird, floaty and hot, as if there there are ants tripping around in her veins. The happy stoned feeling is fading away; she wants it back.
"Try to go to sleep," Jeli says and closes the lid of the pod.
Gray creeps around the edges of her vision, promising unconsciousness soon. Sheppard sinks into it gratefully.
There are dreams, darkness shot with stabbing red cramps, but nothing can drag her into wakefulness until it is over.
~*~
It takes a while to register the pod is open and it's the blue ceiling above, again. At least it isn't moving, anymore. That might lead to puking.
She....
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, God. There - damn. Was his dick always...taking up that much room between his legs? It feels strange and wrong and coldly vulnerable, lying against his thigh, and his balls seem huge and heavy.
He can't wait for his hands to move, but, unfortunately, he has to, bodily sensation returning before volition does.
A deep breath reminds him of another change, of the breasts no longer riding on his chest, shifting and bobbling with each breath in and out. His nipples still feel extraordinarily sensitive, tight in the chill of the room.
Sheppard finally manages to lever himself up on his elbows and look down. Strange to see all that dark hair on his chest, arrowing down over his abdomen to his familiar package.
There it is. Dick and balls look the way he remembers.
Sheppard glances around, but Jeli isn't in the room. No one is, no monitoring or testing, so he carefully runs his fingers down the line of hair starting at his navel. It makes him shiver.
This would all be a bigger relief if it weren't for the stickiness he realizes is drying all over him, along with the pool of unspeakable fluids that seems to have exuded from every pore to stain the inside of the pod. He doesn't want to think about it. Please let the shower be available again, even if it is too hot.
His knees almost fold when he tries to hop off the pod bed, but a quick clutch at the edge saves him from face-planting. Sheppard staggers to the washroom, intent on getting clean and maybe reacquainted with his body.
Once the water is started, he ends up slumped down on the floor of the shower, blindly running his hands over his skin. Down here, closer to the cool floor, the water temperature is bearable. It's all so odd - is this really the way he looked and felt before? - but he recognizes himself, recognizes every sensation from the pull of wet body hair to the weight of his own balls on his palm. His dick manages a small twitch at the thought of the way he's cradled Rodney's testicles, wondering if maybe Rodney will do the same for him.
Sheppard looks down at his dick, feeling bemused. He'd forgotten the way it sometimes has a mind of its own, responding to his thoughts despite strange circumstances. He gives it a lazy, affectionate stroke just to feel the familiar sensations, then stops himself from doing anything further. He's not going to jerk off in an alien shower after his second sex change; that's just a little desperate.
Besides, he feels weak and shaky, as exhausted as he's ever been, and isn't sure he's going to even make it out of the shower any time soon. If he doesn't, he sure doesn't want Jeli or anyone else coming to check and finding him dick in hand.
The hot water pounds down on his head and then his neck, once he ducks his head. It tattoos against his back. Before the faint hint of arousal fades, he's left with a good look at his dick, familiar as his palm (and haven't they been familiar with each other over the years), complete with that faint bend to the right that embarrassed him when he was a teenager.
Vaguely, he wonders if the uneven labia, the ones he'd seen in the hand mirror he'd used to look, the first night of the sex change, were a translation of that asymmetry.
Remembers the grin on Rodney's flushed face, his words. "Perfect symmetry is boring in everything but mathematical proofs."
Sheppard had flushed hot red the very first time Rodney had gone down on her, the whole thing so intimate, intense in a way she couldn't remember any other act being. Rodney had licked and licked and then sucked, until Sheppard had been squirming and twisting, coming with a breathless whimper. Kissing Rodney, only half hearing him say, "You're perfect to me, we fit; my mouth and your pussy, they match up, don't you see?" she'd laughed, because she knew that, felt that, and he was busy pushing his fingers inside her so she'd been coming again.
He has to brace one hand on the floor of the shower, then, because the memory of how Rodney had made her come, then and many times afterwards, is getting him hard in a blinding rush, now. Turned out Rodney's mouth wasn't just good at playing with words, and, oh, yeah, he really liked it, too: liked making her curse and whimper as he pushed his head between her legs, liked making her shake and clutch at him before he smirked and bent down (or up, depending on their positions) and got to work with that clever tongue of his.
Suddenly, he can't finish washing up fast enough, because he needs to see Rodney and know if it's still going to be that good, that this hasn't cost them something, this return to being a man rather than a woman. He pulls himself to his feet and snags another towel, then stumbles out, nearly tripping into Jeli.
"You're awake already?"
"Um," he says. "Yeah," he says, although the answer is really sort of obvious.
She steadies him and then leads him to a chair. "You shouldn't be up yet."
"Okay, yeah, but I need - I need to see Rodney. Can you go get him?"
Jeli hesitates.
John looks up at her through his wet eyelashes, trying to look as harmless and cute as Thumper in Bambi, blinking as water slides out of his hair and into his eyes. "Please."
"It's against standard procedure," she murmurs, but already, her eyes are shifting away from his pleading gaze. Lookin' good.
Sheppard tries to get up, but it doesn't work and he sits with a thump. "Please," he says again. "We're not from here. We - I really need a few minutes with him in private. Just Rodney."
"Well." She hesitates. "I don't see what it could hurt." She pats his shoulder, then turns towards the exit. "Stay right here until I get back."
"I promise."
~*~
Rodney's attended religious rituals that took longer than this and endured departmental meetings that went longer. Maybe. Plus, he hates them. Those experiences aren't making this any more bearable, let alone keeping him from pacing back and forth through the waiting room, now. Three hours! That's amazing, objectively, and Carson would be creaming himself to go over their equipment, but right now it just seems intolerably long.
That's what he tells himself as he spins on his heel and starts back toward the couches where Teyla is meditating and Ronon is stretched out, eyes closed and, for God's sake, snoring!
He really doesn't know how Ronon can nap at a time like this. What if something terrible has gone wrong? What if Sheppard's in trouble, in pain, or even just being hit on by that blonde medical technician? After all, what kind of professional wears hot pink?
The kind who is standing in the doorway, gesturing for Rodney to come over.
"Please come with me."
"Why? What's happened? Oh, God, something really has gone wrong. You've turned the Colonel into a giant puddle of protoplasm, haven't you?"
The tech sniffs. "He wants to see you."
"He? He?" Rodney stalls out and splutters. "Oh! You, he, it's over? Everything is -"
"Everything is fine," the tech says, a trifle snippily, and points at the door. "Try to keep him from doing anything too strenuous until the last of the sedative wears off. I'll leave you alone."
Rodney nods and cautiously goes through the door.
Sheppard is slumped on a bench, soaking wet and wrapped in a single towel, water dripping between his bare feet. His head jerks up as Rodney comes in and a wide smile lights his narrow, handsome, completely male again face.
"Rodney."
"Colonel!"
Sheppard's expression falls a little and Rodney breaks, rushing over. "You're all wet. How could that incompetent little twit leave you here all wet? It's freezing in here. Just stay there. Where are the towels, where are your clothes, do you feel all right, is everything -" He waves his hand toward the towel around Sheppard's waist. "- you know. Back."
Sheppard just blinks at him before nodding. "Yeah. Everything's, you know, back."
Rodney has to roll his eyes then, before spotting the door to the washroom and retrieving a handful of towels that he uses to dry Sheppard's hair and then the rest of him. Sheppard's still unsteady, but he seems to object to Rodney helping him dress; nothing that an impromptu little tug-of-war doesn't fix, though.
"Rodney."
"What? Don't be such a baby, or actually, wait, don't act as if you weren't still weak like one and needing some capable hands."
Rodney ignores Sheppard's clumsy fumbling, finding a pair of boxers and pulling them up Sheppard's legs. There's a low thrum of tension in the way Sheppard holds himself still for that, but when Rodney looks up at Sheppard, questioning, he gives Rodney a curt, almost military nod somewhat undercut by his blown pupils and uneven breathing. Here goes nothing. Rodney pushes the towel away to discover that there goes something, yes, indeed.
Rodney can't help staring for a heartbeat, or possibly two. No more than three, though.
Sheppard would probably hit him if he said he had a pretty dick.
Instead, Rodney lays his hand gently on the outside of Sheppard's hip and says, "Lift up."
This time, Sheppard doesn't even roll his eyes. He obligingly raises his hips, and Rodney pulls the boxers the rest of the way up, holding his breath as he carefully tucks Sheppard's dick and balls inside, promising himself he'll think about how they feel, warm and smooth and heavy, later. He feels inexplicably tender toward Sheppard's body, as if it might break if Rodney's isn't as gentle with it as he can be.
Sheppard's hand closes on his shoulder, and Rodney hears his breath hitch, ending in a small noise, but he doesn't say anything, just lets Rodney finish the job.
Eventually, Rodney ends up on the floor, tying the laces of Sheppard's boots, using the double knots Sheppard always uses without even thinking about it. He looks up. Sheppard's eyes are half-closed, his mouth open...and Rodney is transported to the morning in the team locker room when he did this for her.
God, he's going to miss those high boots. Maybe, if they still fit, he can get Sheppard to wear them again.
Sheppard's eyes narrow. "What are you thinking?"
"Boots," Rodney blurts.
Sheppard frowns, then grins, obviously remembering. "Good times."
Rodney straightens up and groans. Ow, ow, ow, his back. No more getting on his knees.
Somehow, Sheppard knows what he's thinking.
"You look good down there." A sly note in the twist of Sheppard's still criminally pretty mouth. His pupils remain huge and black, but Rodney has to admit that could still be an after-effect of the sedative. The earnest expression isn't, though.
"So do you," Rodney says without thinking.
Sheppard snorts and then does the little head-duck that means he's embarrassed, or pleased. Or both. "What do you say we get out of here?" he says.
He's getting to his feet before Rodney can answer, so Rodney scrambles up, just to be ready in case Sheppard keels over.
When he's on his feet, Sheppard steps right into his personal space and places his hands around Rodney's face. He looks at him intently. This, Rodney thinks, is where they kiss, except Sheppard isn't moving.
"What are you waiting for?" Rodney demands, but his voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Come on, you know I'm a sure thing."
At that, Sheppard laughs, a throaty but very male sound. "Yeah, I can always count on you."
And the 'you' is half-swallowed by their kiss. Sheppard's lips are still soft, only now there's the tiniest hint of bristling stubble; no wonder, with Sheppard starting to sport five o'clock shadow around noon. Rodney has gotten used to Sheppard's both slimmer and curvier form in the last six months, but the feel of his hair between Rodney's fingers is the same, cool, silky, irrepressible. The way his tongue sweeps into Rodney's mouth is the same, too, and the way Sheppard is intent on the kiss, forgetting to even breathe until he has to.
Sheppard pulls back a fraction of an inch, smiles against Rodney's lips, impishly. Rocks his hips, and that's new, really new, but then again, judging from the hot zing that runs through Rodney's body, he can safely conclude that it all works, if not quite the same, then just as well, because, oh, yes, and please, more.
He grins at Sheppard. "Just think of me as your go-to guy."
At that, the laugh, the damned donkey laugh, is back. "Well, you've got me going."
Rodney groans at that, and the sound is not entirely due to the terrible nature of the pun.
Only the loud cough behind them makes Rodney realize that oh, right. Rest of the world, still there. Well, the clinic technician, anyway; she's smiling at them. Sheppard hides his face against Rodney's neck for a breath - hot against the skin under his ear - before stepping away. Rodney feels a bit warm, himself. Like his skin and his boxers are both a size smaller. He hastily busies himself with his shirt, but a glance down at Sheppard's front doesn't show him anything. Well, now he knows why the man wears his pants so baggy. Sometimes he just needs all that extra room. Rodney might have to look into the same strategy.
In any case, Rodney decides to look up again, puts on his best business-like manner. "Well, fine, that was that, very good; time to move on."
"So, is everything all right with you?" the tech asks.
He looks back at Sheppard. Whose ears are pink. Then again, Rodney does not even want to look in the mirror to check his own appearance right now. He clears his throat. "Yes, yes, fine, it's all fine. Better than, even. Downright spectacular."
Sheppard gives him a look under his lashes, then half-turns to the tech. He holds up his hands and wiggles them. "Ten fingers, ten toes. Everything else seems to be on the up and up."
Rodney chokes.
The technician's lips twitch, but only once. Undoubtedly, they are chosen for their serene and imperturbable personalities; God knows anything else has to result in unpleasant neuroses. "Then, if you'd follow me back to the waiting room? It will be perhaps a half hour before we're ready to continue with your teammates."
They follow as she goes on, "You will probably experience a heightened appetite for the next week."
"I'll say," mumbles Sheppard, loud enough for only Rodney to hear, clear enough for only Rodney to understand, and oh, God, they have unleashed a monster. Which is not actually different from sex and Sheppard in female form.
Teyla and Ronon take one look at Sheppard's male form and break out into huge smiles. Teyla's is perhaps even bigger than Ronon's.
Somewhere behind them, he hears a murmured, "I'll leave you for the moment and return when we're ready to continue," but Rodney's got more important things to worry about.
"You look good," Teyla says warmly, and Ronon immediately claps a hand on Sheppard's shoulder. Sheppard in turn, well, he beams at Ronon, for once not curling into himself upon being touched, his smile for Teyla bright and unguarded.
"Yeah, well. Nothing you haven't seen before."
Ronon's speculative glance at that makes Rodney bristle. "Stop that, you hussy," he whispers.
"Hussy?" Ronon repeats. There's a grin. With teeth.
Rodney re-interprets the whole wisdom-valor theorem and retreats behind Sheppard. Sheppard, the bastard, just chuckles.
"You are truly back to your old self, John." And while Teyla sounds as relieved as before, there is a distinct tone of amusement in his voice now, along with relief and eagerness.
"Yup."
Sheppard looks indecently pleased, but Rodney can hardly blame him.
~*~
Sheppard keeps setting his hands on his hips, then jerking them away, tugging at his pants and rolling his shoulders. That, and rubbing at his slightly stubbly chin. Each time, he ducks his head to hide the smile that takes over his face. It looks like being a guy again is good in the Book of Sheppard. Rodney wonders if he took a few minutes to jerk off before coming back to the waiting room and rejoining the rest of the team.
He knows he damn well would have.
Then again. Rodney thinks of the kiss, the novel yet unmistakable pressure of an erection against him, and realizes Sheppard must not have masturbated. Or he has the refractory period of a hummingbird. Rodney flushes all the way down to his toes and looks sidelong at Sheppard. There'd been more than one hard-on involved in that clinch.
He can't wait to get back to Atlantis.
Sheppard catches his glance, ducks his head and licks his lower lip. Rodney almost groans and completely misses the technician asking Teyla to come with him.
Teyla takes off to undergo the reversion. The smile on his (soon to be once more her) face is even wider than Sheppard's. Rodney is impressed. It looks like Teyla is looking forward to this, and that's the understatement of the eon.
Ronon, on the other hand, is leaning against a wall, arms folded, a pensive frown on her face.
"Don't worry, buddy, as soon as Teyla's done, you'll get your turn," Sheppard says. "And it doesn't hurt."
"Not worried about that," Ronon says.
"So, what is furrowing that thunderous brow?" Rodney asks. "Because, clearly, something has crawled up your ass and died."
A chuff of laughter escapes Sheppard, deeper than Rodney has grown used to, but oh-so-familiar. It makes him shiver a little bit. Sometime tonight, after they return to Atlantis, escape from Carson and the rest of the medical department, and debrief with Elizabeth, he's going to go to Sheppard's room and they're going to find out if what was so good these last few months is still workable when they're both guys. It's scaring the hell out of him, and he'd guess, from the way Sheppard's eyes keep flickering to and away from him, that he's not alone in that.
"I don't want to."
"Don't want to what?" Rodney snaps, then his mouth drops open as his brain catches up and he stares.
"Change again," Ronon tells them, looking defiant.
"Have you suffered a recent head injury?" His voice is high enough to make Rodney wince himself.
"No."
Sheppard is gaping at Ronon. Ronon shifts, actually looking awkward for the first time in Rodney's memory. "Why?" Sheppard asks, simple and curious.
"Easier," Ronon says. Then adds, "It's separate. Like this...I'm not a Runner."
"You're still you," Rodney points out as gently as he knows how.
Ronon shrugs again. "Yeah, but...I like this sex. And I'm not that much weaker, not any slower than before." She glances at Sheppard. "You can't make me do this."
Sheppard backs away a step, almost stepping on Rodney's foot. His hand comes up in a 'stop' gesture. "What?"
"You aren't trying to tell me to change back, right?" Ronon asks.
"No," Sheppard replies, the word slow and drawn out. Rodney figures Sheppard is scrambling to decide what the right thing to say is. "I can't - I wouldn't tell you what to decide about something like this. Just...." He scrubs at the back of his neck and rolls his shoulders again. "Just be sure."
Ronon nods and relaxes back against the wall again. "I'm sure."
"Okay."
"I still think you're crazy, but it's up to you," Rodney adds. He settles down in a chair with a good view of the door so he'll be sure to see Teyla as soon as she returns. He doesn't want to think too much about Ronon's decision, because that might lead to thinking about if Sheppard had stayed a woman, and that way lies madness and a pissed-off...boyfriend, oh, wow, boyfriend in all likelihood. Also, he has to wonder what he would decide in the same situation. No, no, better to think about getting back to Atlantis and getting Sheppard naked again.
Sheppard sits down next to him and stretches his legs out, his long, long legs ending in a pair of black combat boots. They're shined, but Rodney can still tell they're Sheppard's old boots. They came prepared this time, each of them with a duffle holding a change of clothes.
Rodney nudges his shoulder against Sheppard's, which is warm and bony and narrow. Sheppard bumps him back, obviously comfortable in his skin. Rodney's thigh is pressed along his. Neither of them move. It feels too good.
He turns his head and follows Sheppard's gaze. Sheppard is watching Ronon, thoughtfully drawing his brows together. The light from the window is gilding Ronon's bare shoulders and muscled arms, smooth skin Rodney remembers touching. Sheppard probably remembers too, only not as a guy.
Rodney knows it's stupid, monumentally, colossally stupid, but he has to, just has to reassure Sheppard. Reassure himself regarding Sheppard. He reaches out and cups his hands around Sheppard's shoulder.
"Rodney?" As Sheppard speaks, he turns, and Rodney's grip must have been less firm than he'd thought, because his fingers slip, slide, to John's chest and black cotton t-shirt, flattening against his sternum; something Rodney would never have done while Sheppard had breasts.
Sheppard's gaze drops to Rodney's hand and instead of lifting it away, he gets this big, goofy grin on his face. Rodney wants to ask, Do you miss them? but it's still a little early to judge, and, besides, Sheppard looks pretty happy with his flat, male chest right this instant. Happy enough he doesn't mind Rodney pawing at him. Well, at least he hasn't reverted back to Colonel-Look-But-Don't-Touch.
Rodney lets out a big puff of air and, after sneaking a glance toward Ronon, who has turned to stare out the window, takes Sheppard's hand. It is warm and dry, and, after a breath, two breaths, Sheppard throws him a little sideways smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and curls his fingers around Rodney's.
In his studies, his work, he's been successful, victorious, triumphant, even, but Rodney thinks dimly that ridiculously little compares to how happy he feels just sitting and holding Sheppard's hand. And he can't ever do this in Atlantis. Not because of the two-guys thing, necessarily: Zelenka would never let him live it down if he even had a clue what a sentimental sap Rodney could be.
The door to the treatment area of the clinic slides open about then, saving him from making himself sick. Teyla almost skips into the waiting room, once again her beautiful self, smiling as wide and happy as Rodney's ever seen her.
"I am back."
And she is, different, but somehow better, or that's what it seems like. He recalls the last months, what he saw of Teyla. Her size didn't change much, just as Ronon and Sheppard stayed just about the same height, but, for some reason, she stands taller now. Again.
Rodney thinks it's probably...possibly...okay, fine, maybe okay if he gives her an appreciative once-over. And, oh, he's going to miss Sheppard's breasts, but Teyla's are back and just about perfect.
Motion to his left. Sheppard stands up, and while he doesn't exactly charge forward, he does take a few steps towards her, then puts his hands on his hips and leans a little closer. Rodney, following, has no idea how this loose posture translates into "affectionate" and "relieved," but somehow it does; that's John Sheppard for you, who as a general rule leads half his conversations via body language alone.
"Yeah, you really are. Back." A boyish grin. "It's good."
Rodney has no idea how Sheppard always manages to not step onto any female toes, not even when he's so clearly thinking about female bodies and that they're pretty. Rodney could chalk it up to shoes, walked a mile in yadda yadda yadda, but the truth is that John has always been this way with women: thoughtful without thinking. Rodney wonders if maybe that's his own problem.
"Yes, it is." That comes out with rather more force than necessary, and Teyla's tone of voice doesn't just convey relief but something that sounds like gratitude, immense and fathomless. Her face smoothes out again instantly, though, the usual good-will-to-all-men expression returned, and probably for good.
"Ronon?" Teyla addresses their fourth. "Are you not ready to return to yourself?" She gestures to the door.
"I'm not doing it," Ronon tells her.
Teyla's eyes widen and she opens her mouth; Rodney braces himself. Then she shakes her head, smiles, and says, "If that is your choice, Ronon, I will support you."
Rodney flicks his gaze to Sheppard, who is smiling at Teyla in approval. "It's good to see you back to yourself, too, Teyla," he says.
Heartfelt relief fills Rodney. He's probably about to say something uncharacteristically emotional, and therefore mortifying, when the door slides open again: Jari and that bird-boned doctor come hurrying through. They're both beaming.
"Rodney!" Jari exclaims. "Wonderful news!"
"What?"
"Dr. Pelh has finished analyzing your DNA. The additions from your gene therapy won't interfere with Completion, after all!"
"What?" He's pretty sure his voice squeaks like a mouse in a trap. A pretty good description of how he suddenly feels, too, as his team mates all turn to stare at him. He jumps to his feet and starts sidling toward the exit. "Oh, no. No, no, no."
"Oh, Rodney...." Sheppard singsongs, grinning madly, while Ronon moves to block Rodney's escape.
Teyla takes his arm. "It's an experience not to be missed, Rodney."
Rodney gulps.
THE END
...for now.