SGA\\Lost\\McShep\\PG-13
Title: Lost
Author: kibou_sueshijuu
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Angst, very slight mostly-canon AU
Pairing: McShep
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Part 1: 3,993; Part 2: 4,925; Altogether: 8,918
Spoilers: One line references Tao of Rodney
Challenge: n/a
Episode Tag: n/a
Summary: Lost, v.: to come to be without (something in one's possession or care), through accident, theft, etc., so that there is little or no prospect of recovery -- http://www.dictionary.com
Warnings: some adorkable domestic moments in Part 2, though they're mostly drowned out by the manly angst. :P
Beta: Hannah, who volunteered to beta this from my post on the wraithbeta mailing list. She was quick and helped immensely. I'd like to thank her so much, because there were a lot of little things that she picked out that made this so much better, :) Any mistakes are my own.
Archive: wraithbait, here
Part 1 Author's Notes: Alright, so it's a tad AU in places. It's written after 'The Return', and I ran with the idea that John got demoted after those shenanigans. Besides that the whole premise is obviously not canon, so... I can't really say anything else without ruining the story for you. Also... there may be an X-Files reference in Part 1. I couldn't help it!!!
Part 2 Author's Notes: There is hope for our dear Shep! And I do believe Rodney redeems himself here. Also, there is a sequel in the works, but bear in mind my uni classes start up again on wednesday, so I don't know how long it'll be before it's written... but it will come eventually!
They’d known from the beginning that it was beyond important for them to be careful. Discretion was of key importance; they could lose everything. They understood that there were risks. They understood that there was always the possibility of one or both of them slipping up, that they could get caught.
Unfortunately, they thought they’d know when they did slip up; they thought it would be something obvious, like being walked in on. What they didn’t realize was that they weren’t as discrete as they’d thought they were. Or perhaps they just underestimated just how observant those around them were.
Even more unfortunately, the person to finally piece together all the sideways glances, brushes of arms, and shared smiles was the one person they would have wanted least to figure it all out. Almost anyone else and they could have convinced them to let them be - Weir or Zelenka would have understood, or accepted that they were indispensable at the least, and kept their mouths shut. And even if it were one of the younger marines, intimidation and threats to their career could probably have worked, because even if John were court-martialed, Rodney wasn’t military, and could remain on the expedition and make said young marine’s life living hell if he wanted to. Rodney had a knack for that sort of thing, anyway.
However, it wasn’t Weir or Zelenka or some young marine who finally realized what was going on between two key personnel in that great island of a city.
***
John had the uncanny ability to look bored and relaxed wherever he was. Even when in the most uncomfortable of seating arrangements, he could look about ready to doze off while everybody else present looked like they were being stabbed repeatedly by tiny little serrated daggers.
As such, there was nobody else around to compare to at this moment, but John still looked ridiculously comfortable, draped over the tiny plastic chair that he was pretty sure had been made solely for torturous purposes.
“Major Sheppard.”
John blinked lazily at the man standing before him. He had to repress a smile as he remembered one of Rodney’s Captain Picard quips. Though, when he thought about it, the man had less of a Star Trek thing going for him, and more of an “I-should-be-in-a-government-desk-job-somewhere” thing going for him, though John couldn’t quite figure out why.
“Colonel Caldwell,” John replied. He knew that considering his recent demotion, he really shouldn’t push Caldwell, but he couldn’t help it.
Caldwell gave him a withering look - a look he pretty much held the patents on, to be honest. He was just that kind of guy, rarely pleased with anything.
He sat down on a corner of the desk in the middle of the room and crossed his arms. “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Major,” he said, putting an emphasis on the word ‘major.’ John got that he was making a point, though it wasn’t really necessary. He was acutely aware of his recent demotion, and really didn’t need Caldwell rubbing his nose in it.
“So tell me: what’s going on between you and Dr. McKay?”
John almost choked, but managed to keep himself outwardly composed. “Going on?” he repeated, and then smirked. “He does his scientist thing, and I aggravate him. It works the other way around, too, actually. It seems to be an arrangement that works for us,” he said, stretching his leg out a little more.
Caldwell raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure it does, Major.” He stood up from the desk and moved in front of John, arms crossed in front of him. “I know what you’re doing.”
John looked up at him, peripherally aware that Caldwell was putting himself in a position of power by standing over him. “And just what is it that I’m doing, Colonel?” John asked, drawling a bit for effect, to show he wasn’t intimidated. John didn’t crack so easily under the whole intimidation tactic, and didn’t appreciate it very much, either. You could say it rubbed him the wrong way.
Caldwell leaned in close to John’s face. “I’ve already requested your court martial, Sheppard. You’ll be out of here in a week, if that long.” He smirked and rocked back on his heels. “I pegged you for a fag from the first moment I saw you.” His gaze flickered over John’s features for a second. “You’re too pretty for your own good.”
John bit back his retort: Too pretty for my own good, or too pretty for you?
Caldwell cocked his head to one side and smirked. “Kiss it all goodbye, John, because you just lost it all.” He strode over to the door of the small room - some spare room that he’d managed to get a hold of for this little meeting - but didn’t leave right away. “I have to wonder how Dr. McKay is going to take this,” he said. “After all, he doesn’t follow the same rules you do, Sheppard; he’s a civilian. He gets to stay here, while you have to go home.”
John didn’t turn around, just waited for sound of the door opening and Caldwell leaving the room. When he was sure Caldwell was gone, he dropped his head into his hands, shutting his eyes against the stab of misery that lanced through his brain.
“Shit,” he sighed.
***
“Caldwell knows.”
Rodney glanced up from his computer screen, looking confused, as John slumped into the chair next to his. Besides his computer, Rodney had a few other random pieces of equipment spread out on the table in front of him. John peeked at the screen and decided that he didn’t want to know what Rodney was working on; it looked really complicated and boring.
“What?” Rodney asked, giving John a look that said “I really don’t have all day to play 20-questions, so please don’t waste my time.” John was always amazed at how Rodney could convey so much in his expressions and still find the need to talk incessantly.
“Caldwell,” John repeated. “He knows.”
“Knows what?” Rodney snapped. “Not psychic anymore!” He waved his hands in small circles on either side of his head. Normally, John would have smiled at the gesture. Now, he just frowned.
“About us.”
Rodney hands froze in midair, and his eyes went wide. His voice dropped a couple notches in volume. “How?” he hissed, glancing around the lab suspiciously. Nobody seemed to notice them having their conversation - the steady hum of scientists doing scientist-like things continued unabated, completely unaware that something beyond terrible was happening in their midst. John thought Rodney looked a little put out at that and inwardly rolled his eyes.
“I don’t know,” John replied defensively. He ran a hand through his hair. “He told me he’s requested my court martial.” He linked his hands together behind his neck and leaned back, keeping his gaze steady on Rodney’s face.
Rodney blinked at him. “He did what?” he exclaimed, his voice getting that high-pitched, squeaky quality that it got whenever he was about to hyperventilate. A couple of the scientists glanced up, but Rodney McKay having a panic attack was nothing unusual and they went back to their work without giving the outburst much thought.
“He requested -“ John started again.
Rodney cut him off by flailing a hand in his face. “Yeah, yeah, I heard, I’m not deaf, just startled,” he muttered. “Something you may try showing, rather than this ‘Joe Cool’ thing twenty-four-seven,” he added. “Doesn’t this bother you at all?” He glared at John, who sighed.
“Of course it does, Rodney, but what am I supposed to do about it? He’s already requested-“
Rodney cut him off again, this time by snapping his fingers repeatedly, just millimeters from John’s nose. John pushed his hand away with an annoyed growl.
“Requested!” Rodney exclaimed. “That’s all he’s done,” he said, looking pleased.
John stared at him in disbelief. “Yes, Rodney, and that’s bad,” he said, using the voice he generally reserved for cuddly-looking animals and humouring Rodney.
“Well, no kidding,” Rodney griped, “but it means you get a trial, right? To deny the charges?”
John stopped short. He’d forgotten about that; the impending sense of loss he’d felt rising up from his gut and grasping and squeezing at his heart when he’d discovered that he was about to lose Rodney and Atlantis and Ronon and Teyla and Pegasus and puddle jumpers and the Stargate and everything else he’d come to care about in the past two and a half years hadn’t exactly left room in his mind for rational thoughts.
Of course there’d be a trial. How could he have been so ridiculous? He could just deny it all, say that he and McKay were just friends, buddies. So they spent a lot of time together, that didn’t mean they were sleeping together.
John felt like kissing Rodney right there, for using his head like he always did, but he decided that that would be a bad idea, considering the circumstances and his newfound hope that they might be able to finagle there way out of this mess. After all, John and Rodney had become rather good at finagling since their arrival on Atlantis, what was this but another close call?
Rodney rolled his eyes when John didn’t say anything for several moments, instead just sitting there looking shocked. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think about the fact that you’d get to deny it.” Rodney thought of something, and his eyes widened in panic. “You didn’t admit it, did you?” he demanded.
“No!” John said, snapping out of his daze. “He didn’t give me a chance to say anything. Just let me know, played out the power trip a little, and then left.”
Rodney relaxed, “Good, because admitting it would have been very bad.”
“Yeah,” John agreed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that would have.” He leaned back again and sighed.
Deep in his gut, he felt that sense of loss give a little squeeze, and he knew he didn’t really have a hope in hell.
***
A team of bureaucrats from the Air Force Internal Investigations Unit showed up a couple of days later and the “trial” commenced. In the few days it took, John found himself defending everything he had done in the past two and a half years, even before there had actually been anything going on between him and Rodney.
He denied everything. Heck, he even found himself denying a couple things that weren’t even court-martial-able, simply because he was on a roll, and denying everything was easier than having to pick through all the things he’d done or hadn’t done. When he though back on it later, he realized that was probably a mistake. He really should have taken the time.
As the trial wore on, John could see that they were using the homosexual charge as an excuse to castigate him for all his past mistakes. He knew it was a lost cause, especially after his recent demotion. The Air Force higher-ups wanted him out - he was a problem, and now that they had their scapegoat excuse, they weren’t about to let this chance slip through their fingers.
John mentioned as much to Rodney, but Rodney refused to listen to him and told him to just deny harder - they couldn’t court martial him without actual proof, after all, was his rational, scientific reasoning.
John tried to explain to Rodney that this was the American military. They were neither rational nor scientific, and they certainly didn’t need proof to get rid of an irritant - they just needed an inkling of an excuse to get rid of it. A single mark on the record, and they’d be all over it, and John more than one mark on his record to give them fuel.
Finally, two days - that felt like two weeks - after they arrived, the bureaucrats absconded; John didn’t realize they had left until Weir let him know, after the fact. She told him that they would be getting back to him with their verdict promptly. She offered a few kind words, and John accepted them, feeling sorry that he had let this happen; he liked to think that he was useful to have around, and that she would maybe be just a tad lost without him in Atlantis to do the things he did so well.
He and Rodney spent the next two nights watching DVDs and losing themselves in each other as often as possible. John had been relieved of duty until the whole situation was figured out, so he plenty of free time, but Rodney was still working, so they stole what few moments they had during the day, still being as discretely as possible, each trying to pretend the whole ordeal wasn’t really happening.
***
John had been given a week.
A week to pack his things and say goodbye to the first place that had actually felt like home and the first people that had actually felt like a family to him, in all of his thirty-seven years. He had been court martialled and dishonourably discharged from the Air Force on grounds of homosexual behaviour. He hated to admit that part of him felt a little smug that Caldwell had been wrong in his assessment of the time he had left on Atlantis, but that little smugness was greatly overshadowed by the squeezing pain in his chest every time he thought about the verdict, which was every few seconds. He felt like he should be worried about a heart attack, but he somehow knew that the fates wouldn’t be kind enough to kill him - he’d have to live through this, and the rest of his life without Atlantis and all it contained and promised.
He retreated to his quarters after Weir told him the news, and lay on his bed, waiting for Rodney to show up after his shift. He didn’t know how Rodney would take it, and he had to admit that he was a little curious.
He checked his watch - Rodney’s shift should have ended about fifteen minutes ago. He was about to call him on the radio, when he walked through the door.
“You know, you really should lock that thing,” Rodney commented, striding over to the bed and planting a kiss on the top of John’s head. “So, what’re our plans for tonight?” he asked, sitting down on the bed next to John and placing a hand on his chest. “Another movie we’ve seen a million times, or can we just skip that part and get to the sex?” He waggled his eyebrows in what John assumed was an attempt at suggestive, but was in reality quite comical.
John couldn’t help but laugh. This comprised two of the reasons he had been so drawn to Rodney in the first place - Rodney’s no-nonsense attitude, combined with his complete lack of even one suave bone in his body, he was truly too adorable to resist.
John shook his head and sighed, feeling slightly pained at the thought of Rodney’s charms, which he would have to give up in just a week. It wasn’t long enough.
Rodney frowned. “What?” he asked.
“Got the verdict back today,” John said slowly, keeping his eyes on Rodney’s, wanting to see the reaction.
Rodney’s face fell. “They didn’t,” he protested, his voice tight. John felt slightly relieved, though he didn’t know why he thought Rodney might respond any other way. He knew he wasn’t the only one who had invested a certain level of emotion into their relationship. No, they had never gone so far as to voice certain feelings, but he was pretty sure that if they had been together any longer, they probably would have acknowledged their presence. Not in proper communicative terms, of course, but in their usual brand of shrugs and ‘manly gestures,’ as Dr. Heightmeyer had so eloquently put it one session when John was vaguely describing some of his relationship issues, carefully sidestepping gender pronouns. He chose to believe that her phrase had only referred to him, and that she hadn’t figured out he was seeing another man. Although he wouldn’t have put it past her - she was an intelligent, observant woman.
John nodded. “They did,” he replied as he ran a hand over his face, hoping to keep his features steady, not wanting to betray his own distress at the news.
Rodney looked like he’d been sucker-punched. He stared at John for a moment, mouth hanging open, eyes like that of a deer caught in headlights. “But they had no proof! Only Caldwell’s word!” he protested. John could practically see the gears turning frantically in his head, trying to find a solution to this problem. There was none, and they both knew it.
“Yeah, well, I told you that’s all they would need. I’m a sore spot with them, remember,” John said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Rodney, pulling him close and burying his face in his neck.
“No offense or anything, John, but you Americans are fucked up,” Rodney whined, wrapping his arms around John’s shoulders. “What the hell has sex and who you do it with got to do with your ability to fight or defend your country?” He demanded, absent-mindedly running his hands across the breadth of John’s back.
John shivered at the sensation, and sighed. They’d had this conversation a few times before, and it always turned out the same way: with John shrugging his way through another one of Rodney’s patented monologues.
Sure, he thought it was a dumb rule - half the guys in the military were gay, or had at least hadn’t turned down a few of the offers that came their way - but what was he going to do about it? It was his country, and his country’s rules. Arguing the point with Rodney wouldn’t get him anywhere, and Rodney would just end up extolling the half-baked virtues of Canada.
“Look at it this way,” John started. Rodney faltered mid-sentence at this unexpected interruption and stopped to raise an expectant eyebrow. “For the next week we don’t have to pretend anymore.”
It wasn’t as if John suddenly wanted to don a rainbow trench coat and run around holding hands and making out in the corridors, but he would have liked to maybe throw a flirtatious remark at his leisure at Rodney in the lab, or brush a hand down the length of Rodney’s arm whenever he felt the urge - something he wanted to do far too often to be healthy, he figured.
Rodney paled slightly at John’s words, though. John’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling back a little and running a thumb along Rodney’s jaw line.
“I can’t - we can’t just throw caution to the wind now, John,” Rodney said. “I mean, I - I’m still here. I still have to think about my position. Do you know what my scientists would think of me if they knew that I - about this?” Rodney gestured between him and John.
John sighed and detached himself from Rodney, flopping back on the bed. He should have figured that Rodney would be worried about his own career, and he was willing to admit that it was perfectly understandable. Still, part of him had wanted to be a little more open. Not flaming “out-and-proud,” - just… open. He was losing his career over this, after all; he would have liked to have seen the looks on some of the faces around this place to overhear some lewd remark he made to Rodney.
“So, you said you had a week?” Rodney asked, drawing a circle on John’s bicep with his fingers. John nodded silently and Rodney responded with his own, decisive, nod. “So I guess we should make the most of it, then, before you ship back off to Earth and we have to end this and all.”
John blinked, and suddenly felt sick. Rodney’s no-nonsense attitude wasn’t quite so charming at the moment. His discomfort must have shown on his face, because as Rodney looked down at him, his expression suddenly changed to a look of concern. “John, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“I - I kind of hadn’t thought about - about this - ending,” he fumbled, sitting up again. He stood up from the bed and walked over to the window. Leaning on the windowsill, he stared out, at Atlantis, spread out before him.
“Well, what did you think was going to happen?” Rodney asked. He followed John to the window and placed his hand over John’s. John looked up at Rodney, who could see how tired and beaten he felt.
John shrugged. “I don’t know. I just didn’t think about it at all,” he mumbled. Rodney sighed, and tugged John into a tight hug.
***
John lay awake after Rodney had fallen asleep next to him, taking up too much of the bed and the blankets, as usual. John was going to have to wake him up soon, so he could head back to his own room, since he was so keen on keeping up appearances.
John would have liked to have fallen asleep and woken up with him, although that thought alone was slightly startling.
As he lay there thinking, he realized that he had been hoping that Rodney wouldn’t give up so easily. He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him had wished that Rodney might decide to give up Atlantis and go home with him, though he had known that it would never happen.
John understood that the Atlantis expedition was more important to Rodney than he would ever be. He had known it since the beginning, and up until this point, he hadn’t thought it bothered him, and it probably hadn’t before now.
To be honest, John wasn’t sure what he himself would do if he was in Rodney’s shoes. If he was forced to choose, would he choose Rodney or Atlantis?
He didn’t think that it was a fair ultimatum, and unfortunately, Rodney was facing it now. John understood why Atlantis won out, but… shouldn’t it have taken a little more time, maybe a little more internal anguish on Rodney’s part, before coming to the decision that they would just have to end it all?
When the time came to wake Rodney up, John almost couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would have preferred to stay in bed with him forever. However, he knew it would just make it worse if he forced the issue. He gently nudged Rodney awake, placing a kiss on his nose.
“Rodney,” John sang softly into the other man’s ear. Rodney grumbled a muffled response and cracked his eyes open slightly. “It’s time to go,” John said softly.
Rodney, slightly groggy but decently coherent, held John’s gaze for a moment. John could almost see the wheels turning as Rodney calculated the pros and cons, the risks and benefits, of staying the whole night.
Finally, with a sigh, Rodney rolled out of the bed and began to dress. John watched him shuffle around the room in just his pants, holding his shirt in one hand, and looking for his socks. A smile ghosted across John’s lips, before leaving them set once again in an unreadable position.
“Rodney,” he said after a few moments. Rodney was fishing his socks out from beneath the bed.
“Mmph,” came the muffled reply. Rodney struggled to stand back up, socks in hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed to pull them on, and looked expectantly at John, waiting for him to continue speaking.
John sighed, and shook his head. “Never mind,” he mumbled as Rodney pulled his shirt over his head. Rodney looked down at him with an expression John hadn’t seen before, and wasn’t quite sure what meant. Rodney sighed and the expression disappeared as he leaned down to brush a kiss across John’s lips.
“G’night,” he said.
“Night,” John sighed as Rodney left the room.
Part 2
It had been bad enough having to return to Earth when he had still been working with the SGC and going off-world, but being back without even being able to do that was probably one of the more difficult things John had had to deal with in his life.
And it wasn’t that there was anything different about Earth, but John had never felt at home anywhere except Atlantis. Even his own skin had felt foreign until the first time he’d sat in the chair at the Antarctica Base.
The first thing he did when he got back, after finding an apartment, was find himself a job. It wasn’t really the most pressing of issues, since he hadn’t exactly had time to spend the majority of his salary while on Atlantis, and so it had accumulated into a tidy sum; however, he found sitting around doing nothing by choice to be even worse than just having nothing to do, and so within a month of being back on Earth, he applied for and landed himself a job as a flight instructor, teaching people to fly helicopters in Medford, New Jersey.
It wasn’t Air Force choppers, and it definitely wasn’t puddle jumpers, but at least he was still in the sky; he could even manage to not strangle the idiots he was instructing by reminding himself that it would be worse on the ground - he wouldn’t be stopping himself from strangling the idiots if he were stuck on the ground, and he didn’t think that would go over so well with the local authorities.
Actually, he was pretty sure that flying was the only thing keeping him sane. It was far worse now than the six weeks they had spent back after the Ancients had kicked them out, because at least then he still had some hope of going back. This time, it was as if he’d been told his house had burned down and that his whole family had gone up in smoke with it. To be perfectly honest, he felt orphaned, and more alone than ever.
John hated being honest with himself. It meant he went to bed every night with a headache and a heartache that he couldn’t drink away, which he had tried for the first few nights and then given up on. He knew if he went that route, he would never fly again.
He kept mostly to himself. He was civil and polite to the other flight instructors, but not friendly. He avoided the other tenants in his building as much as possible, straining to smile and reply when they greeted him by the mailboxes or passed him in the hall.
***
John had been back on Earth for about three months when he received a package in the mail from the Air Force. He opened it at the mailbox, unable to make himself wait until he was back in his apartment.
Inside, protected by a generous mattress of bubble wrap - John couldn’t help but pop a few bubbles - was a portable USB drive. He plugged it into his laptop and found on it a single file: a sound file titled ‘dear-john’. John knew it came from Rodney, assuming that he must have sent it in the last data burst, because only Rodney could ever find that amusing.
He turned up his speakers and clicked on the file.
“Hey, John.”
John felt a pull at his chest. It was true that he and Rodney had parted on amicable terms, knowing that there was nothing they could do to change what happened, but maybe that made it harder, because John hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. He thought that maybe, if he and Rodney had argued and fought for their last week, maybe he’d be able to move on faster, and maybe he wouldn’t still miss him so much.
Most nights he couldn’t sleep, and tried to imagine Rodney curled up behind him, but he was still achingly aware of the lack of his presence. He had finally bought a body-pillow and had started snuggling into that every night, though he would have never admitted that to anyone, let alone Rodney.
“Everything’s fairly normal around here. Nobody’s managed to blow anything of importance up, and no one of any consequence has died.
“Major Lorne took over our team, but besides that, you wouldn’t notice anything had changed if you weren’t already aware of it.”
John wasn’t sure how to feel about that statement, really. It sounded - sort of - like Rodney meant that he and Teyla and Ronon still missed him; maybe. He let it slide for the time being, but knew it was going to bother him for a while.
“Katie Brown’s been hanging around the lab since you’ve been gone. I had dinner with her the other night. It was okay, I guess. She brings up some strange things in conversation. That train-baby thing I mentioned before was just the tip of the iceberg, apparently. I think she’s seeing Heightmeyer, though, which is probably a good thing, I think.”
John definitely knew how he felt about that. The twinge of jealousy that twisted in his chest was unmistakable, and he frowned at himself. There was no reason for that. He and Rodney were no longer ‘he and Rodney,’ and even before, Rodney had gone out with Katie a few times. She was a nice girl, and they had needed some sort of cover.
But it was different now, because he wasn’t there anymore and she still was.
“I wish I had someone to play chess with. It’s so hard to find a competitive partner, and since you’re gone…” Rodney’s voice trailed off a bit, and there were a few moments of blank tape.
“I’ve been speaking to Elizabeth about some things, but, I don’t know if they’ll pan out. Bureaucratic policies and all…”
John raised an eyebrow. What the hell did that mean? Unfortunately, Rodney continued on without elaborating, which made John wonder even more - Rodney was the king of elaborating; if he didn’t go on about something for far longer than needed, then something had to be wrong.
“Anyways, I better finish this, there isn’t a lot of room on the data burst, and it was a struggle to finagle this much space. John, I - I - I mean…” Rodney stuttered and stammered for a few moments. “I miss having you around.”
The recording stopped. John sighed, leaning back in his chair. Rodney had never been great at talking about his feelings, unless of course it was about something involving a loss of sense of feeling, or a feeling of pain, or something of that sort. Emotions just weren’t Rodney’s strong point. Saying he missed John was a big thing for him, and John knew it.
John wasn’t sure if this letter made things better or worse. He knew he’d probably end up listening to it until the file corrupted itself. He absentmindedly made a few copies.
He would never admit that to Rodney, either.
***
It was another couple months before John heard from Rodney again. He had pretty much given up on the chance of getting another letter, and had resigned himself to the daily routine of idiots who didn’t understand how to use flight controls properly, and then supper alone in his apartment.
He had started looking for a house on the outskirts of town. He just didn’t want to be around these people who were so content, happy even, with their lives here. He couldn’t stand being surrounded by people who were ignorant of one of the most amazing places in the universe, ignorant of the people risking their lives and fighting a war that would never be known, never be broadcast on CNN with headlines designed to evoke passion and pity for the soldiers.
Just knowing that there was nobody around who knew, who he could talk to and would understand, was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.
He finally closed on an old farmhouse, three miles out of town. There were a few acres on the property, and the house was big, but John welcomed the space after the confines of the little town of Medford. He got the keys to the house one Friday after work, and headed back to his apartment, planning to spend the weekend packing.
John froze in place, halfway down the hall from his apartment, when he saw Rodney, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall next to his apartment door. There was a duffel bag next to him, and he had his laptop open in his lap. He tapped away at the keyboard, looking fairly consumed by what he was working on.
John blinked a few times, certain he was imagining things, but Rodney didn’t disappear. Instead, he looked up and noticed John standing in the middle of the hallway, eyes wide with shock, mouth slightly open.
“John?”
That was all John needed to hear. He strode down the hall as Rodney stood up, and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “God, I missed you,” he mumbled into Rodney’s neck without thinking, and he meant it, and realized that he didn’t care that it was maybe not the most appropriate greeting for a man he was no longer involved with.
“Yeah, me too,” Rodney said, hugging him back. John felt something in his chest that he hadn’t for a long time - not since he had seen Rodney for the first time after those six months in the sanctuary, certain that he had been given up on.
They pulled apart after a few silent moments, and John just stared at Rodney, still not sure if he should believe his senses, and scared that if he stopped looking, Rodney would just disappear like some sort of leprechaun.
“Are you going to invite me in, or are we just going to stand out here all evening?” Rodney finally asked, impatience laced through his voice.
Make that a ‘snarky leprechaun.’
But John had to laugh; yes, Rodney was definitely standing in front of him, flesh, blood, and flapping tongue.
“Yeah, of course,” John said, unlocking the door as Rodney tucked his laptop into the duffel. John held the door open for Rodney, who breezed past him and deposited his duffel by the coat closet. John was barely in the door and closing it behind him before Rodney had him shoved up against it with their lips crushed together. Caught off-guard, John stiffened in surprise.
It took him a moment to get his bearings, but when he did he sighed into the kiss and melted into Rodney, who by this point had buried his hands into John’s hair and was pressing into him, as if trying to occupy the same physical space John was, however impossible that was.
They finally parted, and John stared at Rodney, taking in his face and photographing it with his memory. He didn’t know why Rodney was here, and he wanted to make sure he kept this moment clear in his mind, this image of Rodney, with his eyes glistening, lips swollen and parted, cheeks flushed and glowing.
“Um. Want something to drink?” John asked after a moment, with a shaky laugh. Rodney smiled his crooked smile and John felt like he might collapse. The sudden shock of Rodney - scent and taste and skin and eyes and voice - to his system after so long without him was enough to overload his senses.
“Yeah, sure, what have you got?”
They separated and John almost whined. He bit his tongue though, and led Rodney into the kitchen. He opened up the fridge and gave the contents a once-over. “Your choices are beer, cranberry juice, or water.”
Rodney raised an eyebrow. “Cranberry juice?” he asked, slightly bemused. John shrugged. He wasn’t about to tell Rodney that whenever he went shopping he couldn’t bring himself to buy orange juice or lemonade. He had never had a problem consuming citrus back on Atlantis, but now, with Rodney not around, he almost felt as if it would be blasphemous or something.
He reached in and grabbed two beers just as Rodney said, “A beer will do.” John smirked and handed one to him. He fished the bottle opener out of the cutlery drawer and opened his own. After handing the opener over to Rodney, he headed for the living room. Rodney followed him a moment later, open beer in hand.
They sat down on the couch, and John was amazed and relieved at how right it still felt to have Rodney leaning into him. He could smell the mix of products that Rodney used. He missed this so much, this simple feeling of just being around Rodney. He sighed, feeling content for the first time since Atlantis.
“How long are you here for?” he asked, taking a swig from his bottle. He knew the answer wouldn’t be what he really wanted, but he also knew the answer he wanted was not something he could ask for nor expect from Rodney.
“Just for the weekend.” Rodney looked at John apologetically and traced a finger down the length of John’s thigh where the denim of his jeans was soft, faded, and worn. John had bought these a few days after he had arrived back on Earth. He’d been back long enough to wear them in, but he felt like it was long enough that they should be worn out by now. “I have to go back on Monday. You have no clue what I had to do to get this weekend off.”
John slung his arm over Rodney’s shoulder and placed his beer on the side table. “Then we make the best of the weekend, make it worth it,” he said, smiling down at Rodney. Rodney sighed and smiled back a small smile. Rodney’s pained eyes mirrored his own, he was sure, so he said loudly, “You get to help me pack! I’m moving in a week.” He clapped Rodney’s back and grinned stupidly.
Rodney groaned, and rolled his eyes. “How do I get roped into these things?” he mumbled, throwing his head back against the couch. John tried to laugh, but couldn’t quite manage to get the sound out of his throat.
In truth, John was already anticipating how hard it was going to be to let go of Rodney again. It probably would have been better - easier - if he’d never come at all, but he was here now, and John wasn’t going to give these few days up.
He wrapped his arms around Rodney, and rested his forehead on his shoulder. He breathed in deep, reveling in that scent he loved. Hypoallergenic soap and aftershave and deodorant, dandruff shampoo, and underlying it all, that unique smell of Rodney.
Rodney leaned forward, setting his beer down on the coffee table. He snuggled into John’s embrace and sighed. “I missed you,” he mumbled quietly into John’s chest, running a hand down John’s side, and slipping his fingers under the hem of his shirt.
“I missed you, too.”
John would say it a million times, if it meant letting Rodney know just how much he meant it. Rodney lifted his head up and pulled John into a kiss. He slipped his hand under John’s shirt and splayed his fingers across his stomach.
John’s breath hitched and he leaned back a bit, pulling Rodney closer. They shifted about for a few moments, and then John was on his back and Rodney was straddling his hips and leaning over him, a gleam in his eye that John recognized all too well, and welcomed as eagerly as ever.
He smirked, pushed away all thoughts of anything but now, and pulled Rodney into another deep kiss.
***
John woke up and checked the clock immediately. The glowing red numbers beamed 2:00AM at him. He was confused for a moment, trying to figure out what woke him up. A snuffling noise behind him and then a warm arm snaking around his waste brought back all the memories. He couldn’t help but smile, and he shimmied back into Rodney’s arms. Needless to say, his body pillow wasn’t going to do the trick anymore, not that it had ever really done so in the first place.
“Whash’ong?” Rodney mumbled, mostly asleep. John smiled wider and sighed.
“Nothing,” he whispered, relaxing into the mattress. “Go back to sleep.”
It was an unneeded order, since Rodney’s light snore told him he already was. John closed his eyes and slipped back into sleep easily.
The next time he woke up, sunlight was streaming in the window, he was alone in the bed, and the clock admonished him by proclaiming that it was 10:00AM already.
John frowned. He had been looking forward to waking up with Rodney and just cuddling for a while. He had never outright admitted that he enjoyed cuddling, but he figured Rodney’s super-brain should have figured it out by now. It probably had, John mused, as he slipped out from under the covers and stood up. He probably just couldn’t care less.
He reached for his scruffy, red, terrycloth robe but found it missing, no doubt stolen by one annoying astrophysicist. John grabbed a pair of boxers from the dresser drawer and pulled them on before padding out of the bedroom in his bare feet - his fuzzy, orange slippers were missing, as well.
He found Rodney in the living room. He was lying back on the couch with one leg hanging off the edge, a mug half-filled with coffee in one hand, and a magazine in the other that he seemed quite lost in. It was quite an image when completed with the robe and the slippers. John couldn’t help but smile a little.
John walked up to the couch and stared down at Rodney. When Rodney finally looked up at him, John reached down and took his coffee.
“Hey!” Rodney protested.
“You take my robe and slippers, I take your coffee,” John replied casually, sauntering towards the kitchen. Rodney scrambled off the couch and followed him.
“I’ll have you know that if I don’t get my daily dose of caffeine, I can get very cranky, Sheppard,” Rodney commented, attempting to retrieve his coffee from John who, despite knowing very well just how cranky Rodney got without his morning caffeine, managed to sidestep the swipe and finished off the remainder of the mug in a couple swallows. John grimaced; it was lukewarm and black with no sugar. The man had an iron stomach, John was sure.
Rodney smirked, “Serves you right.” He walked over to the cupboard, took out another mug, and poured himself another mug full. As he took a sip, he seemed to finally recognize that John was almost completely naked. He smiled appreciatively as his gaze ran over the length of John’s body.
John was well aware of the once-over, and smirked. “See anything you like?” he asked as he refilled his commandeered mug. Rodney rolled his eyes.
“Is that all you think about?” he asked.
John raised an eyebrow. “After what, almost six months? Why, yes, Rodney, it is.” He walked over to the fridge, and retrieved a carton of milk. He poured some into his coffee.
Rodney blinked, startled. He set his coffee down on the counter and put his hands on his hips. “Do you mean to tell me last night was the first time you’ve had sex since you left Atlantis?” he demanded.
John shrugged and replaced the milk in the fridge. He returned to his coffee and took a sip. Rodney’s eyes widened, and John could see the guilt creeping into them. He sighed and put his own coffee down.
Walking over to Rodney, he said, “Rodney, don’t worry about it.” He reached out and grasped Rodney’s hand in his own, lacing his fingers through Rodney’s and squeezing.. “I didn’t expect you to stay celibate because I wasn’t there.”
Rodney thrummed his fingers against John’s hand. “Then why did you?” he asked. His voice was small and John wasn’t sure how to explain to Rodney that nobody interested him anymore. That he had thought about maybe asking out the girl from the grocery store, or even the guy from the hobby shop near the flight school, but thinking about it had made that pain in his stomach and heart sharpen and twist, and he had ended up going for a four hour run both times to work off the sick feeling in his gut.
John shrugged again. “Just didn’t feel like it,” he said simply. He took another sip of his coffee.
***
After a lazy breakfast and a lazy morning, John drove Rodney out to the house.
“I can’t believe you live out here,” Rodney commented as they drove through the town. John had been pointing out the few sights along the way, like the perfectly manicured golf course, and the eerie little craft shop that John had wandered into one day, to find that it was run by an old woman who probably could have rivaled Methuselah in age, and the definitely rivaled the Crypt Keeper in creepiness. “I mean, after close to three years in Atlantis, you choose to live here?”
John shrugged. “There’s a flight school here, so I get to fly. And nothing’s that bad after McMurdo,” he explained, although even he had to admit - Medford got pretty close.
Rodney looked at him and sighed. “John, you’re miserable.”
John snorted. “Gee, Rodney, whatever would give you that idea? That I’m living in some ‘historical village’, teaching rich losers who don’t deserve it to fly choppers, after experiencing what we’ve experienced? I can’t imagine that would make me miserable.” He sighed, taking a hand off the wheel to rub his eyes briefly. “I miss Atlantis, Rodney. I miss feeling the city react to me, knowing that I was born to be there, because it’s in my genes. It’s home, Rodney. And I miss everything about it. And everyone in it,” he added, glancing over at Rodney, who looked down at his lap.
John took an exit that led them onto the highway, and soon they were just driving. They remained silent for a while. Rodney stared out the window at the coastline, and John thrummed his fingers against the steering wheel.
John took another turn off a few minutes later and then a moment after that, pulled into a dirt driveway that ran up to an old, worn building.
“This is it,” John said. He parked the car and they got out. John leaned against the hood as Rodney circled around the vehicle to stand next to John and stare up at the house.
It was big, with lots of windows. It would be white if it were freshly painted, but as it was the paint was a dingy gray, and mostly flaked off to reveal old wooden shingles. There was a wide veranda that ran around three sides of the house.
John took Rodney on a tour through the rooms. The bedrooms, though there were six altogether, were small, and John explained that he was thinking about knocking out a few walls and making them bigger. He didn’t know yet what he was going to do with all the space, but he assured Rodney he’d figure something out.
The kitchen and the bathroom both needed a little work, but John had plans for them, too. The list of fix-ups got longer as John led Rodney through the rooms, pointing out the little flaws here and there.
“Sounds like you’ll be busy,” Rodney commented when they finally made there way out to the veranda on the side of the house opposite the driveway. John didn’t say anything as they sat on the steps leading off the veranda. A plot of earth that had probably been, at one time or another, a kitchen garden lay a few feet to the left of the pathway that trailed from the steps and faded into the grassy yard.
John knew he’d be busy. It was one of the main reasons he’d bought the house. If he wasn’t in the air, he wanted to be doing something he could get lost in, and use to help him forget about Atlantis. Tearing apart and fixing up a house seemed like a safe bet. He’d spent a couple summers as a teenager working for a guy who did renovations, and he had enjoyed the work then - it was physical and distracting, and if you weren’t falling into bed already asleep by the end of the day, you weren’t doing it right.
“I’ve been talking to Elizabeth,” Rodney said after several minutes of silence passed by. “We’re trying to find a way to get you back on the project.” John’s eyes snapped up to Rodney’s face and his brow furrowed in confusion. “As a civilian,” Rodney continued. “You’ve got the gene, and you’ve got experience there. We’re thinking that maybe we can get you hired back as an ‘Expert Consultant,’ or something along those lines.”
So that’s what Rodney had meant in his letter, three months ago.
John didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how to take that news. He knew that if he went back as a civilian his duties would be severely limited - he wouldn’t be able to do half what he had done before. And besides, Rodney had said trying, for months, apparently, which meant they still hadn’t convinced the SGC to let it happen.
“I don’t - I don’t know if it’ll happen or not, John, but we’re trying.” Rodney faltered, and cleared his throat. “It’s not - it’s not the same without you there.”
John tried to think of something to say in response, but he didn’t know what would sound right. He picked at the paint chipping off the post next to him. A piece got jammed under his nail and he frowned, bringing the offended thumb to his mouth to try to suck the piece out.
“Say something already, Sheppard, you’re making me nervous!” Rodney finally snapped, hands fluttering agitatedly in his lap.
John opened and closed his mouth a couple times, but got the impression that Rodney wasn’t looking for an impression of a fish. He pursed his lips and reached out to pull Rodney to him, ignoring Rodney’s squeak of surprise.
John rested his chin on top of Rodney’s head and held on to him tightly. He brushed his hand down his back, and then placed a kiss on Rodney’s temple. Rodney sighed.
“It’s not the same without you there, John,” Rodney whispered. John grunted. Rodney accepted that as a valid response and continued. “I’m not the same without you there, John.”
John had always sworn that he was one of the guys who didn’t cry over things their boyfriend did or said - he wasn’t like that with women, so why would he be with guys? And neither he nor Rodney had ever been like that. But his eyes suddenly stung, and tears threatened to expose themselves. He cleared his throat and hugged Rodney tighter.
“Me either,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. A few deep breaths and he had regained his composure. He pulled back and looked at Rodney.
“I - I mean,” he stammered. Saying “Thank you” seemed like such a ridiculous thing to say in this situation. Thank you for what? Thank you wasn’t right, and even if it were, it didn’t begin to cover this situation.
“Yeah, I know, John,” Rodney said. “Don’t worry about it.”
John didn’t know how long they sat like that, but they didn’t move from the steps of the veranda until the sun had moved a decent ways through the sky and Rodney’s stomach proclaimed its need for sustenance.
***
They didn’t get much packing done that weekend, but John hadn’t wanted to waste his time with Rodney by stuffing things in boxes. They did enough of that on a metaphorical level anyway, and John wanted to just enjoy being with Rodney, for once, without having to hide or to lie.
They slept in the house, with sleeping bags and blankets and plenty of candles. John somehow felt that they were christening the house, and while part of him worried that it would make living there harder, knowing that the first two nights he had spent there had been with Rodney, he hoped that maybe it would make it easier, as if he could just imagine that Rodney was there with him.
He tried not to think about it too much over those few days. As it was, Monday came too soon, and he tried to hide his misery as he drove Rodney to the airport and watched him board the plane.
That night, though he would never admit it to anyone, he cried bitterly into his hands, for the first time since he’d left Atlantis. The tears didn’t last long, but while they did, the sobs racked his body, until he finally shook himself and stood up from the couch.
He wiped at his face and set his mouth. What happened to him was mostly out of his hands. Whether or not Rodney and Elizabeth would be able to convince the SGC to allow him to return as a civilian advisor - a position he knew he would take, even if it was a pansy job, because it would mean returning to Atlantis, finally - he had to make do now, and he had to deal with his life right now.
So he began to pack.
The end! [finally]
Author: kibou_sueshijuu
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Angst, very slight mostly-canon AU
Pairing: McShep
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Part 1: 3,993; Part 2: 4,925; Altogether: 8,918
Spoilers: One line references Tao of Rodney
Challenge: n/a
Episode Tag: n/a
Summary: Lost, v.: to come to be without (something in one's possession or care), through accident, theft, etc., so that there is little or no prospect of recovery -- http://www.dictionary.com
Warnings: some adorkable domestic moments in Part 2, though they're mostly drowned out by the manly angst. :P
Beta: Hannah, who volunteered to beta this from my post on the wraithbeta mailing list. She was quick and helped immensely. I'd like to thank her so much, because there were a lot of little things that she picked out that made this so much better, :) Any mistakes are my own.
Archive: wraithbait, here
Part 1 Author's Notes: Alright, so it's a tad AU in places. It's written after 'The Return', and I ran with the idea that John got demoted after those shenanigans. Besides that the whole premise is obviously not canon, so... I can't really say anything else without ruining the story for you. Also... there may be an X-Files reference in Part 1. I couldn't help it!!!
Part 2 Author's Notes: There is hope for our dear Shep! And I do believe Rodney redeems himself here. Also, there is a sequel in the works, but bear in mind my uni classes start up again on wednesday, so I don't know how long it'll be before it's written... but it will come eventually!
They’d known from the beginning that it was beyond important for them to be careful. Discretion was of key importance; they could lose everything. They understood that there were risks. They understood that there was always the possibility of one or both of them slipping up, that they could get caught.
Unfortunately, they thought they’d know when they did slip up; they thought it would be something obvious, like being walked in on. What they didn’t realize was that they weren’t as discrete as they’d thought they were. Or perhaps they just underestimated just how observant those around them were.
Even more unfortunately, the person to finally piece together all the sideways glances, brushes of arms, and shared smiles was the one person they would have wanted least to figure it all out. Almost anyone else and they could have convinced them to let them be - Weir or Zelenka would have understood, or accepted that they were indispensable at the least, and kept their mouths shut. And even if it were one of the younger marines, intimidation and threats to their career could probably have worked, because even if John were court-martialed, Rodney wasn’t military, and could remain on the expedition and make said young marine’s life living hell if he wanted to. Rodney had a knack for that sort of thing, anyway.
However, it wasn’t Weir or Zelenka or some young marine who finally realized what was going on between two key personnel in that great island of a city.
***
John had the uncanny ability to look bored and relaxed wherever he was. Even when in the most uncomfortable of seating arrangements, he could look about ready to doze off while everybody else present looked like they were being stabbed repeatedly by tiny little serrated daggers.
As such, there was nobody else around to compare to at this moment, but John still looked ridiculously comfortable, draped over the tiny plastic chair that he was pretty sure had been made solely for torturous purposes.
“Major Sheppard.”
John blinked lazily at the man standing before him. He had to repress a smile as he remembered one of Rodney’s Captain Picard quips. Though, when he thought about it, the man had less of a Star Trek thing going for him, and more of an “I-should-be-in-a-government-desk-job-somewhere” thing going for him, though John couldn’t quite figure out why.
“Colonel Caldwell,” John replied. He knew that considering his recent demotion, he really shouldn’t push Caldwell, but he couldn’t help it.
Caldwell gave him a withering look - a look he pretty much held the patents on, to be honest. He was just that kind of guy, rarely pleased with anything.
He sat down on a corner of the desk in the middle of the room and crossed his arms. “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Major,” he said, putting an emphasis on the word ‘major.’ John got that he was making a point, though it wasn’t really necessary. He was acutely aware of his recent demotion, and really didn’t need Caldwell rubbing his nose in it.
“So tell me: what’s going on between you and Dr. McKay?”
John almost choked, but managed to keep himself outwardly composed. “Going on?” he repeated, and then smirked. “He does his scientist thing, and I aggravate him. It works the other way around, too, actually. It seems to be an arrangement that works for us,” he said, stretching his leg out a little more.
Caldwell raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure it does, Major.” He stood up from the desk and moved in front of John, arms crossed in front of him. “I know what you’re doing.”
John looked up at him, peripherally aware that Caldwell was putting himself in a position of power by standing over him. “And just what is it that I’m doing, Colonel?” John asked, drawling a bit for effect, to show he wasn’t intimidated. John didn’t crack so easily under the whole intimidation tactic, and didn’t appreciate it very much, either. You could say it rubbed him the wrong way.
Caldwell leaned in close to John’s face. “I’ve already requested your court martial, Sheppard. You’ll be out of here in a week, if that long.” He smirked and rocked back on his heels. “I pegged you for a fag from the first moment I saw you.” His gaze flickered over John’s features for a second. “You’re too pretty for your own good.”
John bit back his retort: Too pretty for my own good, or too pretty for you?
Caldwell cocked his head to one side and smirked. “Kiss it all goodbye, John, because you just lost it all.” He strode over to the door of the small room - some spare room that he’d managed to get a hold of for this little meeting - but didn’t leave right away. “I have to wonder how Dr. McKay is going to take this,” he said. “After all, he doesn’t follow the same rules you do, Sheppard; he’s a civilian. He gets to stay here, while you have to go home.”
John didn’t turn around, just waited for sound of the door opening and Caldwell leaving the room. When he was sure Caldwell was gone, he dropped his head into his hands, shutting his eyes against the stab of misery that lanced through his brain.
“Shit,” he sighed.
***
“Caldwell knows.”
Rodney glanced up from his computer screen, looking confused, as John slumped into the chair next to his. Besides his computer, Rodney had a few other random pieces of equipment spread out on the table in front of him. John peeked at the screen and decided that he didn’t want to know what Rodney was working on; it looked really complicated and boring.
“What?” Rodney asked, giving John a look that said “I really don’t have all day to play 20-questions, so please don’t waste my time.” John was always amazed at how Rodney could convey so much in his expressions and still find the need to talk incessantly.
“Caldwell,” John repeated. “He knows.”
“Knows what?” Rodney snapped. “Not psychic anymore!” He waved his hands in small circles on either side of his head. Normally, John would have smiled at the gesture. Now, he just frowned.
“About us.”
Rodney hands froze in midair, and his eyes went wide. His voice dropped a couple notches in volume. “How?” he hissed, glancing around the lab suspiciously. Nobody seemed to notice them having their conversation - the steady hum of scientists doing scientist-like things continued unabated, completely unaware that something beyond terrible was happening in their midst. John thought Rodney looked a little put out at that and inwardly rolled his eyes.
“I don’t know,” John replied defensively. He ran a hand through his hair. “He told me he’s requested my court martial.” He linked his hands together behind his neck and leaned back, keeping his gaze steady on Rodney’s face.
Rodney blinked at him. “He did what?” he exclaimed, his voice getting that high-pitched, squeaky quality that it got whenever he was about to hyperventilate. A couple of the scientists glanced up, but Rodney McKay having a panic attack was nothing unusual and they went back to their work without giving the outburst much thought.
“He requested -“ John started again.
Rodney cut him off by flailing a hand in his face. “Yeah, yeah, I heard, I’m not deaf, just startled,” he muttered. “Something you may try showing, rather than this ‘Joe Cool’ thing twenty-four-seven,” he added. “Doesn’t this bother you at all?” He glared at John, who sighed.
“Of course it does, Rodney, but what am I supposed to do about it? He’s already requested-“
Rodney cut him off again, this time by snapping his fingers repeatedly, just millimeters from John’s nose. John pushed his hand away with an annoyed growl.
“Requested!” Rodney exclaimed. “That’s all he’s done,” he said, looking pleased.
John stared at him in disbelief. “Yes, Rodney, and that’s bad,” he said, using the voice he generally reserved for cuddly-looking animals and humouring Rodney.
“Well, no kidding,” Rodney griped, “but it means you get a trial, right? To deny the charges?”
John stopped short. He’d forgotten about that; the impending sense of loss he’d felt rising up from his gut and grasping and squeezing at his heart when he’d discovered that he was about to lose Rodney and Atlantis and Ronon and Teyla and Pegasus and puddle jumpers and the Stargate and everything else he’d come to care about in the past two and a half years hadn’t exactly left room in his mind for rational thoughts.
Of course there’d be a trial. How could he have been so ridiculous? He could just deny it all, say that he and McKay were just friends, buddies. So they spent a lot of time together, that didn’t mean they were sleeping together.
John felt like kissing Rodney right there, for using his head like he always did, but he decided that that would be a bad idea, considering the circumstances and his newfound hope that they might be able to finagle there way out of this mess. After all, John and Rodney had become rather good at finagling since their arrival on Atlantis, what was this but another close call?
Rodney rolled his eyes when John didn’t say anything for several moments, instead just sitting there looking shocked. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think about the fact that you’d get to deny it.” Rodney thought of something, and his eyes widened in panic. “You didn’t admit it, did you?” he demanded.
“No!” John said, snapping out of his daze. “He didn’t give me a chance to say anything. Just let me know, played out the power trip a little, and then left.”
Rodney relaxed, “Good, because admitting it would have been very bad.”
“Yeah,” John agreed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that would have.” He leaned back again and sighed.
Deep in his gut, he felt that sense of loss give a little squeeze, and he knew he didn’t really have a hope in hell.
***
A team of bureaucrats from the Air Force Internal Investigations Unit showed up a couple of days later and the “trial” commenced. In the few days it took, John found himself defending everything he had done in the past two and a half years, even before there had actually been anything going on between him and Rodney.
He denied everything. Heck, he even found himself denying a couple things that weren’t even court-martial-able, simply because he was on a roll, and denying everything was easier than having to pick through all the things he’d done or hadn’t done. When he though back on it later, he realized that was probably a mistake. He really should have taken the time.
As the trial wore on, John could see that they were using the homosexual charge as an excuse to castigate him for all his past mistakes. He knew it was a lost cause, especially after his recent demotion. The Air Force higher-ups wanted him out - he was a problem, and now that they had their scapegoat excuse, they weren’t about to let this chance slip through their fingers.
John mentioned as much to Rodney, but Rodney refused to listen to him and told him to just deny harder - they couldn’t court martial him without actual proof, after all, was his rational, scientific reasoning.
John tried to explain to Rodney that this was the American military. They were neither rational nor scientific, and they certainly didn’t need proof to get rid of an irritant - they just needed an inkling of an excuse to get rid of it. A single mark on the record, and they’d be all over it, and John more than one mark on his record to give them fuel.
Finally, two days - that felt like two weeks - after they arrived, the bureaucrats absconded; John didn’t realize they had left until Weir let him know, after the fact. She told him that they would be getting back to him with their verdict promptly. She offered a few kind words, and John accepted them, feeling sorry that he had let this happen; he liked to think that he was useful to have around, and that she would maybe be just a tad lost without him in Atlantis to do the things he did so well.
He and Rodney spent the next two nights watching DVDs and losing themselves in each other as often as possible. John had been relieved of duty until the whole situation was figured out, so he plenty of free time, but Rodney was still working, so they stole what few moments they had during the day, still being as discretely as possible, each trying to pretend the whole ordeal wasn’t really happening.
***
John had been given a week.
A week to pack his things and say goodbye to the first place that had actually felt like home and the first people that had actually felt like a family to him, in all of his thirty-seven years. He had been court martialled and dishonourably discharged from the Air Force on grounds of homosexual behaviour. He hated to admit that part of him felt a little smug that Caldwell had been wrong in his assessment of the time he had left on Atlantis, but that little smugness was greatly overshadowed by the squeezing pain in his chest every time he thought about the verdict, which was every few seconds. He felt like he should be worried about a heart attack, but he somehow knew that the fates wouldn’t be kind enough to kill him - he’d have to live through this, and the rest of his life without Atlantis and all it contained and promised.
He retreated to his quarters after Weir told him the news, and lay on his bed, waiting for Rodney to show up after his shift. He didn’t know how Rodney would take it, and he had to admit that he was a little curious.
He checked his watch - Rodney’s shift should have ended about fifteen minutes ago. He was about to call him on the radio, when he walked through the door.
“You know, you really should lock that thing,” Rodney commented, striding over to the bed and planting a kiss on the top of John’s head. “So, what’re our plans for tonight?” he asked, sitting down on the bed next to John and placing a hand on his chest. “Another movie we’ve seen a million times, or can we just skip that part and get to the sex?” He waggled his eyebrows in what John assumed was an attempt at suggestive, but was in reality quite comical.
John couldn’t help but laugh. This comprised two of the reasons he had been so drawn to Rodney in the first place - Rodney’s no-nonsense attitude, combined with his complete lack of even one suave bone in his body, he was truly too adorable to resist.
John shook his head and sighed, feeling slightly pained at the thought of Rodney’s charms, which he would have to give up in just a week. It wasn’t long enough.
Rodney frowned. “What?” he asked.
“Got the verdict back today,” John said slowly, keeping his eyes on Rodney’s, wanting to see the reaction.
Rodney’s face fell. “They didn’t,” he protested, his voice tight. John felt slightly relieved, though he didn’t know why he thought Rodney might respond any other way. He knew he wasn’t the only one who had invested a certain level of emotion into their relationship. No, they had never gone so far as to voice certain feelings, but he was pretty sure that if they had been together any longer, they probably would have acknowledged their presence. Not in proper communicative terms, of course, but in their usual brand of shrugs and ‘manly gestures,’ as Dr. Heightmeyer had so eloquently put it one session when John was vaguely describing some of his relationship issues, carefully sidestepping gender pronouns. He chose to believe that her phrase had only referred to him, and that she hadn’t figured out he was seeing another man. Although he wouldn’t have put it past her - she was an intelligent, observant woman.
John nodded. “They did,” he replied as he ran a hand over his face, hoping to keep his features steady, not wanting to betray his own distress at the news.
Rodney looked like he’d been sucker-punched. He stared at John for a moment, mouth hanging open, eyes like that of a deer caught in headlights. “But they had no proof! Only Caldwell’s word!” he protested. John could practically see the gears turning frantically in his head, trying to find a solution to this problem. There was none, and they both knew it.
“Yeah, well, I told you that’s all they would need. I’m a sore spot with them, remember,” John said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Rodney, pulling him close and burying his face in his neck.
“No offense or anything, John, but you Americans are fucked up,” Rodney whined, wrapping his arms around John’s shoulders. “What the hell has sex and who you do it with got to do with your ability to fight or defend your country?” He demanded, absent-mindedly running his hands across the breadth of John’s back.
John shivered at the sensation, and sighed. They’d had this conversation a few times before, and it always turned out the same way: with John shrugging his way through another one of Rodney’s patented monologues.
Sure, he thought it was a dumb rule - half the guys in the military were gay, or had at least hadn’t turned down a few of the offers that came their way - but what was he going to do about it? It was his country, and his country’s rules. Arguing the point with Rodney wouldn’t get him anywhere, and Rodney would just end up extolling the half-baked virtues of Canada.
“Look at it this way,” John started. Rodney faltered mid-sentence at this unexpected interruption and stopped to raise an expectant eyebrow. “For the next week we don’t have to pretend anymore.”
It wasn’t as if John suddenly wanted to don a rainbow trench coat and run around holding hands and making out in the corridors, but he would have liked to maybe throw a flirtatious remark at his leisure at Rodney in the lab, or brush a hand down the length of Rodney’s arm whenever he felt the urge - something he wanted to do far too often to be healthy, he figured.
Rodney paled slightly at John’s words, though. John’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling back a little and running a thumb along Rodney’s jaw line.
“I can’t - we can’t just throw caution to the wind now, John,” Rodney said. “I mean, I - I’m still here. I still have to think about my position. Do you know what my scientists would think of me if they knew that I - about this?” Rodney gestured between him and John.
John sighed and detached himself from Rodney, flopping back on the bed. He should have figured that Rodney would be worried about his own career, and he was willing to admit that it was perfectly understandable. Still, part of him had wanted to be a little more open. Not flaming “out-and-proud,” - just… open. He was losing his career over this, after all; he would have liked to have seen the looks on some of the faces around this place to overhear some lewd remark he made to Rodney.
“So, you said you had a week?” Rodney asked, drawing a circle on John’s bicep with his fingers. John nodded silently and Rodney responded with his own, decisive, nod. “So I guess we should make the most of it, then, before you ship back off to Earth and we have to end this and all.”
John blinked, and suddenly felt sick. Rodney’s no-nonsense attitude wasn’t quite so charming at the moment. His discomfort must have shown on his face, because as Rodney looked down at him, his expression suddenly changed to a look of concern. “John, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“I - I kind of hadn’t thought about - about this - ending,” he fumbled, sitting up again. He stood up from the bed and walked over to the window. Leaning on the windowsill, he stared out, at Atlantis, spread out before him.
“Well, what did you think was going to happen?” Rodney asked. He followed John to the window and placed his hand over John’s. John looked up at Rodney, who could see how tired and beaten he felt.
John shrugged. “I don’t know. I just didn’t think about it at all,” he mumbled. Rodney sighed, and tugged John into a tight hug.
***
John lay awake after Rodney had fallen asleep next to him, taking up too much of the bed and the blankets, as usual. John was going to have to wake him up soon, so he could head back to his own room, since he was so keen on keeping up appearances.
John would have liked to have fallen asleep and woken up with him, although that thought alone was slightly startling.
As he lay there thinking, he realized that he had been hoping that Rodney wouldn’t give up so easily. He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him had wished that Rodney might decide to give up Atlantis and go home with him, though he had known that it would never happen.
John understood that the Atlantis expedition was more important to Rodney than he would ever be. He had known it since the beginning, and up until this point, he hadn’t thought it bothered him, and it probably hadn’t before now.
To be honest, John wasn’t sure what he himself would do if he was in Rodney’s shoes. If he was forced to choose, would he choose Rodney or Atlantis?
He didn’t think that it was a fair ultimatum, and unfortunately, Rodney was facing it now. John understood why Atlantis won out, but… shouldn’t it have taken a little more time, maybe a little more internal anguish on Rodney’s part, before coming to the decision that they would just have to end it all?
When the time came to wake Rodney up, John almost couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would have preferred to stay in bed with him forever. However, he knew it would just make it worse if he forced the issue. He gently nudged Rodney awake, placing a kiss on his nose.
“Rodney,” John sang softly into the other man’s ear. Rodney grumbled a muffled response and cracked his eyes open slightly. “It’s time to go,” John said softly.
Rodney, slightly groggy but decently coherent, held John’s gaze for a moment. John could almost see the wheels turning as Rodney calculated the pros and cons, the risks and benefits, of staying the whole night.
Finally, with a sigh, Rodney rolled out of the bed and began to dress. John watched him shuffle around the room in just his pants, holding his shirt in one hand, and looking for his socks. A smile ghosted across John’s lips, before leaving them set once again in an unreadable position.
“Rodney,” he said after a few moments. Rodney was fishing his socks out from beneath the bed.
“Mmph,” came the muffled reply. Rodney struggled to stand back up, socks in hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed to pull them on, and looked expectantly at John, waiting for him to continue speaking.
John sighed, and shook his head. “Never mind,” he mumbled as Rodney pulled his shirt over his head. Rodney looked down at him with an expression John hadn’t seen before, and wasn’t quite sure what meant. Rodney sighed and the expression disappeared as he leaned down to brush a kiss across John’s lips.
“G’night,” he said.
“Night,” John sighed as Rodney left the room.
Part 2
It had been bad enough having to return to Earth when he had still been working with the SGC and going off-world, but being back without even being able to do that was probably one of the more difficult things John had had to deal with in his life.
And it wasn’t that there was anything different about Earth, but John had never felt at home anywhere except Atlantis. Even his own skin had felt foreign until the first time he’d sat in the chair at the Antarctica Base.
The first thing he did when he got back, after finding an apartment, was find himself a job. It wasn’t really the most pressing of issues, since he hadn’t exactly had time to spend the majority of his salary while on Atlantis, and so it had accumulated into a tidy sum; however, he found sitting around doing nothing by choice to be even worse than just having nothing to do, and so within a month of being back on Earth, he applied for and landed himself a job as a flight instructor, teaching people to fly helicopters in Medford, New Jersey.
It wasn’t Air Force choppers, and it definitely wasn’t puddle jumpers, but at least he was still in the sky; he could even manage to not strangle the idiots he was instructing by reminding himself that it would be worse on the ground - he wouldn’t be stopping himself from strangling the idiots if he were stuck on the ground, and he didn’t think that would go over so well with the local authorities.
Actually, he was pretty sure that flying was the only thing keeping him sane. It was far worse now than the six weeks they had spent back after the Ancients had kicked them out, because at least then he still had some hope of going back. This time, it was as if he’d been told his house had burned down and that his whole family had gone up in smoke with it. To be perfectly honest, he felt orphaned, and more alone than ever.
John hated being honest with himself. It meant he went to bed every night with a headache and a heartache that he couldn’t drink away, which he had tried for the first few nights and then given up on. He knew if he went that route, he would never fly again.
He kept mostly to himself. He was civil and polite to the other flight instructors, but not friendly. He avoided the other tenants in his building as much as possible, straining to smile and reply when they greeted him by the mailboxes or passed him in the hall.
***
John had been back on Earth for about three months when he received a package in the mail from the Air Force. He opened it at the mailbox, unable to make himself wait until he was back in his apartment.
Inside, protected by a generous mattress of bubble wrap - John couldn’t help but pop a few bubbles - was a portable USB drive. He plugged it into his laptop and found on it a single file: a sound file titled ‘dear-john’. John knew it came from Rodney, assuming that he must have sent it in the last data burst, because only Rodney could ever find that amusing.
He turned up his speakers and clicked on the file.
“Hey, John.”
John felt a pull at his chest. It was true that he and Rodney had parted on amicable terms, knowing that there was nothing they could do to change what happened, but maybe that made it harder, because John hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. He thought that maybe, if he and Rodney had argued and fought for their last week, maybe he’d be able to move on faster, and maybe he wouldn’t still miss him so much.
Most nights he couldn’t sleep, and tried to imagine Rodney curled up behind him, but he was still achingly aware of the lack of his presence. He had finally bought a body-pillow and had started snuggling into that every night, though he would have never admitted that to anyone, let alone Rodney.
“Everything’s fairly normal around here. Nobody’s managed to blow anything of importance up, and no one of any consequence has died.
“Major Lorne took over our team, but besides that, you wouldn’t notice anything had changed if you weren’t already aware of it.”
John wasn’t sure how to feel about that statement, really. It sounded - sort of - like Rodney meant that he and Teyla and Ronon still missed him; maybe. He let it slide for the time being, but knew it was going to bother him for a while.
“Katie Brown’s been hanging around the lab since you’ve been gone. I had dinner with her the other night. It was okay, I guess. She brings up some strange things in conversation. That train-baby thing I mentioned before was just the tip of the iceberg, apparently. I think she’s seeing Heightmeyer, though, which is probably a good thing, I think.”
John definitely knew how he felt about that. The twinge of jealousy that twisted in his chest was unmistakable, and he frowned at himself. There was no reason for that. He and Rodney were no longer ‘he and Rodney,’ and even before, Rodney had gone out with Katie a few times. She was a nice girl, and they had needed some sort of cover.
But it was different now, because he wasn’t there anymore and she still was.
“I wish I had someone to play chess with. It’s so hard to find a competitive partner, and since you’re gone…” Rodney’s voice trailed off a bit, and there were a few moments of blank tape.
“I’ve been speaking to Elizabeth about some things, but, I don’t know if they’ll pan out. Bureaucratic policies and all…”
John raised an eyebrow. What the hell did that mean? Unfortunately, Rodney continued on without elaborating, which made John wonder even more - Rodney was the king of elaborating; if he didn’t go on about something for far longer than needed, then something had to be wrong.
“Anyways, I better finish this, there isn’t a lot of room on the data burst, and it was a struggle to finagle this much space. John, I - I - I mean…” Rodney stuttered and stammered for a few moments. “I miss having you around.”
The recording stopped. John sighed, leaning back in his chair. Rodney had never been great at talking about his feelings, unless of course it was about something involving a loss of sense of feeling, or a feeling of pain, or something of that sort. Emotions just weren’t Rodney’s strong point. Saying he missed John was a big thing for him, and John knew it.
John wasn’t sure if this letter made things better or worse. He knew he’d probably end up listening to it until the file corrupted itself. He absentmindedly made a few copies.
He would never admit that to Rodney, either.
***
It was another couple months before John heard from Rodney again. He had pretty much given up on the chance of getting another letter, and had resigned himself to the daily routine of idiots who didn’t understand how to use flight controls properly, and then supper alone in his apartment.
He had started looking for a house on the outskirts of town. He just didn’t want to be around these people who were so content, happy even, with their lives here. He couldn’t stand being surrounded by people who were ignorant of one of the most amazing places in the universe, ignorant of the people risking their lives and fighting a war that would never be known, never be broadcast on CNN with headlines designed to evoke passion and pity for the soldiers.
Just knowing that there was nobody around who knew, who he could talk to and would understand, was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.
He finally closed on an old farmhouse, three miles out of town. There were a few acres on the property, and the house was big, but John welcomed the space after the confines of the little town of Medford. He got the keys to the house one Friday after work, and headed back to his apartment, planning to spend the weekend packing.
John froze in place, halfway down the hall from his apartment, when he saw Rodney, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall next to his apartment door. There was a duffel bag next to him, and he had his laptop open in his lap. He tapped away at the keyboard, looking fairly consumed by what he was working on.
John blinked a few times, certain he was imagining things, but Rodney didn’t disappear. Instead, he looked up and noticed John standing in the middle of the hallway, eyes wide with shock, mouth slightly open.
“John?”
That was all John needed to hear. He strode down the hall as Rodney stood up, and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “God, I missed you,” he mumbled into Rodney’s neck without thinking, and he meant it, and realized that he didn’t care that it was maybe not the most appropriate greeting for a man he was no longer involved with.
“Yeah, me too,” Rodney said, hugging him back. John felt something in his chest that he hadn’t for a long time - not since he had seen Rodney for the first time after those six months in the sanctuary, certain that he had been given up on.
They pulled apart after a few silent moments, and John just stared at Rodney, still not sure if he should believe his senses, and scared that if he stopped looking, Rodney would just disappear like some sort of leprechaun.
“Are you going to invite me in, or are we just going to stand out here all evening?” Rodney finally asked, impatience laced through his voice.
Make that a ‘snarky leprechaun.’
But John had to laugh; yes, Rodney was definitely standing in front of him, flesh, blood, and flapping tongue.
“Yeah, of course,” John said, unlocking the door as Rodney tucked his laptop into the duffel. John held the door open for Rodney, who breezed past him and deposited his duffel by the coat closet. John was barely in the door and closing it behind him before Rodney had him shoved up against it with their lips crushed together. Caught off-guard, John stiffened in surprise.
It took him a moment to get his bearings, but when he did he sighed into the kiss and melted into Rodney, who by this point had buried his hands into John’s hair and was pressing into him, as if trying to occupy the same physical space John was, however impossible that was.
They finally parted, and John stared at Rodney, taking in his face and photographing it with his memory. He didn’t know why Rodney was here, and he wanted to make sure he kept this moment clear in his mind, this image of Rodney, with his eyes glistening, lips swollen and parted, cheeks flushed and glowing.
“Um. Want something to drink?” John asked after a moment, with a shaky laugh. Rodney smiled his crooked smile and John felt like he might collapse. The sudden shock of Rodney - scent and taste and skin and eyes and voice - to his system after so long without him was enough to overload his senses.
“Yeah, sure, what have you got?”
They separated and John almost whined. He bit his tongue though, and led Rodney into the kitchen. He opened up the fridge and gave the contents a once-over. “Your choices are beer, cranberry juice, or water.”
Rodney raised an eyebrow. “Cranberry juice?” he asked, slightly bemused. John shrugged. He wasn’t about to tell Rodney that whenever he went shopping he couldn’t bring himself to buy orange juice or lemonade. He had never had a problem consuming citrus back on Atlantis, but now, with Rodney not around, he almost felt as if it would be blasphemous or something.
He reached in and grabbed two beers just as Rodney said, “A beer will do.” John smirked and handed one to him. He fished the bottle opener out of the cutlery drawer and opened his own. After handing the opener over to Rodney, he headed for the living room. Rodney followed him a moment later, open beer in hand.
They sat down on the couch, and John was amazed and relieved at how right it still felt to have Rodney leaning into him. He could smell the mix of products that Rodney used. He missed this so much, this simple feeling of just being around Rodney. He sighed, feeling content for the first time since Atlantis.
“How long are you here for?” he asked, taking a swig from his bottle. He knew the answer wouldn’t be what he really wanted, but he also knew the answer he wanted was not something he could ask for nor expect from Rodney.
“Just for the weekend.” Rodney looked at John apologetically and traced a finger down the length of John’s thigh where the denim of his jeans was soft, faded, and worn. John had bought these a few days after he had arrived back on Earth. He’d been back long enough to wear them in, but he felt like it was long enough that they should be worn out by now. “I have to go back on Monday. You have no clue what I had to do to get this weekend off.”
John slung his arm over Rodney’s shoulder and placed his beer on the side table. “Then we make the best of the weekend, make it worth it,” he said, smiling down at Rodney. Rodney sighed and smiled back a small smile. Rodney’s pained eyes mirrored his own, he was sure, so he said loudly, “You get to help me pack! I’m moving in a week.” He clapped Rodney’s back and grinned stupidly.
Rodney groaned, and rolled his eyes. “How do I get roped into these things?” he mumbled, throwing his head back against the couch. John tried to laugh, but couldn’t quite manage to get the sound out of his throat.
In truth, John was already anticipating how hard it was going to be to let go of Rodney again. It probably would have been better - easier - if he’d never come at all, but he was here now, and John wasn’t going to give these few days up.
He wrapped his arms around Rodney, and rested his forehead on his shoulder. He breathed in deep, reveling in that scent he loved. Hypoallergenic soap and aftershave and deodorant, dandruff shampoo, and underlying it all, that unique smell of Rodney.
Rodney leaned forward, setting his beer down on the coffee table. He snuggled into John’s embrace and sighed. “I missed you,” he mumbled quietly into John’s chest, running a hand down John’s side, and slipping his fingers under the hem of his shirt.
“I missed you, too.”
John would say it a million times, if it meant letting Rodney know just how much he meant it. Rodney lifted his head up and pulled John into a kiss. He slipped his hand under John’s shirt and splayed his fingers across his stomach.
John’s breath hitched and he leaned back a bit, pulling Rodney closer. They shifted about for a few moments, and then John was on his back and Rodney was straddling his hips and leaning over him, a gleam in his eye that John recognized all too well, and welcomed as eagerly as ever.
He smirked, pushed away all thoughts of anything but now, and pulled Rodney into another deep kiss.
***
John woke up and checked the clock immediately. The glowing red numbers beamed 2:00AM at him. He was confused for a moment, trying to figure out what woke him up. A snuffling noise behind him and then a warm arm snaking around his waste brought back all the memories. He couldn’t help but smile, and he shimmied back into Rodney’s arms. Needless to say, his body pillow wasn’t going to do the trick anymore, not that it had ever really done so in the first place.
“Whash’ong?” Rodney mumbled, mostly asleep. John smiled wider and sighed.
“Nothing,” he whispered, relaxing into the mattress. “Go back to sleep.”
It was an unneeded order, since Rodney’s light snore told him he already was. John closed his eyes and slipped back into sleep easily.
The next time he woke up, sunlight was streaming in the window, he was alone in the bed, and the clock admonished him by proclaiming that it was 10:00AM already.
John frowned. He had been looking forward to waking up with Rodney and just cuddling for a while. He had never outright admitted that he enjoyed cuddling, but he figured Rodney’s super-brain should have figured it out by now. It probably had, John mused, as he slipped out from under the covers and stood up. He probably just couldn’t care less.
He reached for his scruffy, red, terrycloth robe but found it missing, no doubt stolen by one annoying astrophysicist. John grabbed a pair of boxers from the dresser drawer and pulled them on before padding out of the bedroom in his bare feet - his fuzzy, orange slippers were missing, as well.
He found Rodney in the living room. He was lying back on the couch with one leg hanging off the edge, a mug half-filled with coffee in one hand, and a magazine in the other that he seemed quite lost in. It was quite an image when completed with the robe and the slippers. John couldn’t help but smile a little.
John walked up to the couch and stared down at Rodney. When Rodney finally looked up at him, John reached down and took his coffee.
“Hey!” Rodney protested.
“You take my robe and slippers, I take your coffee,” John replied casually, sauntering towards the kitchen. Rodney scrambled off the couch and followed him.
“I’ll have you know that if I don’t get my daily dose of caffeine, I can get very cranky, Sheppard,” Rodney commented, attempting to retrieve his coffee from John who, despite knowing very well just how cranky Rodney got without his morning caffeine, managed to sidestep the swipe and finished off the remainder of the mug in a couple swallows. John grimaced; it was lukewarm and black with no sugar. The man had an iron stomach, John was sure.
Rodney smirked, “Serves you right.” He walked over to the cupboard, took out another mug, and poured himself another mug full. As he took a sip, he seemed to finally recognize that John was almost completely naked. He smiled appreciatively as his gaze ran over the length of John’s body.
John was well aware of the once-over, and smirked. “See anything you like?” he asked as he refilled his commandeered mug. Rodney rolled his eyes.
“Is that all you think about?” he asked.
John raised an eyebrow. “After what, almost six months? Why, yes, Rodney, it is.” He walked over to the fridge, and retrieved a carton of milk. He poured some into his coffee.
Rodney blinked, startled. He set his coffee down on the counter and put his hands on his hips. “Do you mean to tell me last night was the first time you’ve had sex since you left Atlantis?” he demanded.
John shrugged and replaced the milk in the fridge. He returned to his coffee and took a sip. Rodney’s eyes widened, and John could see the guilt creeping into them. He sighed and put his own coffee down.
Walking over to Rodney, he said, “Rodney, don’t worry about it.” He reached out and grasped Rodney’s hand in his own, lacing his fingers through Rodney’s and squeezing.. “I didn’t expect you to stay celibate because I wasn’t there.”
Rodney thrummed his fingers against John’s hand. “Then why did you?” he asked. His voice was small and John wasn’t sure how to explain to Rodney that nobody interested him anymore. That he had thought about maybe asking out the girl from the grocery store, or even the guy from the hobby shop near the flight school, but thinking about it had made that pain in his stomach and heart sharpen and twist, and he had ended up going for a four hour run both times to work off the sick feeling in his gut.
John shrugged again. “Just didn’t feel like it,” he said simply. He took another sip of his coffee.
***
After a lazy breakfast and a lazy morning, John drove Rodney out to the house.
“I can’t believe you live out here,” Rodney commented as they drove through the town. John had been pointing out the few sights along the way, like the perfectly manicured golf course, and the eerie little craft shop that John had wandered into one day, to find that it was run by an old woman who probably could have rivaled Methuselah in age, and the definitely rivaled the Crypt Keeper in creepiness. “I mean, after close to three years in Atlantis, you choose to live here?”
John shrugged. “There’s a flight school here, so I get to fly. And nothing’s that bad after McMurdo,” he explained, although even he had to admit - Medford got pretty close.
Rodney looked at him and sighed. “John, you’re miserable.”
John snorted. “Gee, Rodney, whatever would give you that idea? That I’m living in some ‘historical village’, teaching rich losers who don’t deserve it to fly choppers, after experiencing what we’ve experienced? I can’t imagine that would make me miserable.” He sighed, taking a hand off the wheel to rub his eyes briefly. “I miss Atlantis, Rodney. I miss feeling the city react to me, knowing that I was born to be there, because it’s in my genes. It’s home, Rodney. And I miss everything about it. And everyone in it,” he added, glancing over at Rodney, who looked down at his lap.
John took an exit that led them onto the highway, and soon they were just driving. They remained silent for a while. Rodney stared out the window at the coastline, and John thrummed his fingers against the steering wheel.
John took another turn off a few minutes later and then a moment after that, pulled into a dirt driveway that ran up to an old, worn building.
“This is it,” John said. He parked the car and they got out. John leaned against the hood as Rodney circled around the vehicle to stand next to John and stare up at the house.
It was big, with lots of windows. It would be white if it were freshly painted, but as it was the paint was a dingy gray, and mostly flaked off to reveal old wooden shingles. There was a wide veranda that ran around three sides of the house.
John took Rodney on a tour through the rooms. The bedrooms, though there were six altogether, were small, and John explained that he was thinking about knocking out a few walls and making them bigger. He didn’t know yet what he was going to do with all the space, but he assured Rodney he’d figure something out.
The kitchen and the bathroom both needed a little work, but John had plans for them, too. The list of fix-ups got longer as John led Rodney through the rooms, pointing out the little flaws here and there.
“Sounds like you’ll be busy,” Rodney commented when they finally made there way out to the veranda on the side of the house opposite the driveway. John didn’t say anything as they sat on the steps leading off the veranda. A plot of earth that had probably been, at one time or another, a kitchen garden lay a few feet to the left of the pathway that trailed from the steps and faded into the grassy yard.
John knew he’d be busy. It was one of the main reasons he’d bought the house. If he wasn’t in the air, he wanted to be doing something he could get lost in, and use to help him forget about Atlantis. Tearing apart and fixing up a house seemed like a safe bet. He’d spent a couple summers as a teenager working for a guy who did renovations, and he had enjoyed the work then - it was physical and distracting, and if you weren’t falling into bed already asleep by the end of the day, you weren’t doing it right.
“I’ve been talking to Elizabeth,” Rodney said after several minutes of silence passed by. “We’re trying to find a way to get you back on the project.” John’s eyes snapped up to Rodney’s face and his brow furrowed in confusion. “As a civilian,” Rodney continued. “You’ve got the gene, and you’ve got experience there. We’re thinking that maybe we can get you hired back as an ‘Expert Consultant,’ or something along those lines.”
So that’s what Rodney had meant in his letter, three months ago.
John didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how to take that news. He knew that if he went back as a civilian his duties would be severely limited - he wouldn’t be able to do half what he had done before. And besides, Rodney had said trying, for months, apparently, which meant they still hadn’t convinced the SGC to let it happen.
“I don’t - I don’t know if it’ll happen or not, John, but we’re trying.” Rodney faltered, and cleared his throat. “It’s not - it’s not the same without you there.”
John tried to think of something to say in response, but he didn’t know what would sound right. He picked at the paint chipping off the post next to him. A piece got jammed under his nail and he frowned, bringing the offended thumb to his mouth to try to suck the piece out.
“Say something already, Sheppard, you’re making me nervous!” Rodney finally snapped, hands fluttering agitatedly in his lap.
John opened and closed his mouth a couple times, but got the impression that Rodney wasn’t looking for an impression of a fish. He pursed his lips and reached out to pull Rodney to him, ignoring Rodney’s squeak of surprise.
John rested his chin on top of Rodney’s head and held on to him tightly. He brushed his hand down his back, and then placed a kiss on Rodney’s temple. Rodney sighed.
“It’s not the same without you there, John,” Rodney whispered. John grunted. Rodney accepted that as a valid response and continued. “I’m not the same without you there, John.”
John had always sworn that he was one of the guys who didn’t cry over things their boyfriend did or said - he wasn’t like that with women, so why would he be with guys? And neither he nor Rodney had ever been like that. But his eyes suddenly stung, and tears threatened to expose themselves. He cleared his throat and hugged Rodney tighter.
“Me either,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. A few deep breaths and he had regained his composure. He pulled back and looked at Rodney.
“I - I mean,” he stammered. Saying “Thank you” seemed like such a ridiculous thing to say in this situation. Thank you for what? Thank you wasn’t right, and even if it were, it didn’t begin to cover this situation.
“Yeah, I know, John,” Rodney said. “Don’t worry about it.”
John didn’t know how long they sat like that, but they didn’t move from the steps of the veranda until the sun had moved a decent ways through the sky and Rodney’s stomach proclaimed its need for sustenance.
***
They didn’t get much packing done that weekend, but John hadn’t wanted to waste his time with Rodney by stuffing things in boxes. They did enough of that on a metaphorical level anyway, and John wanted to just enjoy being with Rodney, for once, without having to hide or to lie.
They slept in the house, with sleeping bags and blankets and plenty of candles. John somehow felt that they were christening the house, and while part of him worried that it would make living there harder, knowing that the first two nights he had spent there had been with Rodney, he hoped that maybe it would make it easier, as if he could just imagine that Rodney was there with him.
He tried not to think about it too much over those few days. As it was, Monday came too soon, and he tried to hide his misery as he drove Rodney to the airport and watched him board the plane.
That night, though he would never admit it to anyone, he cried bitterly into his hands, for the first time since he’d left Atlantis. The tears didn’t last long, but while they did, the sobs racked his body, until he finally shook himself and stood up from the couch.
He wiped at his face and set his mouth. What happened to him was mostly out of his hands. Whether or not Rodney and Elizabeth would be able to convince the SGC to allow him to return as a civilian advisor - a position he knew he would take, even if it was a pansy job, because it would mean returning to Atlantis, finally - he had to make do now, and he had to deal with his life right now.
So he began to pack.
The end! [finally]