"Some Freely" and "Unwell" (McShep, R)
So this was me: Some Freely, a tag to Conversion. McShep, pretty tame, established relationship.
~~~
Some Freely
It was dark.
Wherever he was, it was dark. And darkness was... good. Darkness was safe. When it was dark, no one could see you.
He couldn't quite remember why this was so important, not yet; he only knew that it was.
There were things with him in the darkness, though. Soft voices not far from him, mingling with a steady beep from his right. Coarse fabric underneath his right hand, and a warm, heavy weight pressing down his left. Smell, antiseptic and something familiar.
Belatedly, it occurred to him the only reason it was dark was that his eyes were closed.
And then it all came back.
The retrovirus, turning him into something different. How, for a short while, he'd been next to invincible - invulnerable, his mind sing-songed. He'd been climbing walls, seeing the delicate, silvery lines that were a man's life force. He'd been able to run faster, jump higher, take anything he wanted.
He'd been more.
No wonder the Wraith thought themselves superior, if this was what they were like. Only he suspected the whole experience had been more of a Wraith kind of 'back to the roots'. There'd been something wild inside him, and the stunner blasts hadn't so much as tickled when they'd hit. Not even a Wraith could have taken him, of that he was sure. He had become more.
Except he'd been losing so much in the process. His appearance first, then his thoughts as they became jumbled; his mind, his emotions, his humanity. Himself.
He shuddered as he remembered. Not a care in the world but hunger. No conscience, no fear, no love, no memories, no compassion, no mercy, nothing. Nothing. Just hunger. If that was the price to have the strength of a Wraith, then it had been too high.
He had refused to pay it, though. Had been kept on the right side of sanity long enough to help them save him. And it had worked, that much he knew; even if his body still felt strange, in his mind, he was himself.
John opened his eyes, then. Left the dark place behind for the familiarity of the infirmary. Teyla was talking quietly to Ronon; he could see them both through a gap in his privacy curtain. The lights had been dimmed, probably out of consideration for his alien eyes, even though his vision was almost back to normal. He looked at Rodney, who had fallen asleep, his face resting on John's blue-scaled hand, mouth slightly open: childlike, trusting, and thankfully not drooling yet. Something hard and painful clenched inside his chest, and he swallowed although his throat was dry.
No love.
Some things weren't worth their price, he knew that now. Others, thankfully, you got for free.
~~~
And this is the sequel. Kind of. temaris asked for John, peace, and I meant to write her a short tag to "Conversion". It morphed into a rather weird AU, set about two years in the future. It's still short, and probably not entirely what she wanted. On second thought, it's amazingly not what she wanted... um, I might have to write her a different story. *coughs*
Contains spoilers for "Conversion" and "Coup d'Etat".
~~~
Unwell
They found Rodney in an abandoned Genii camp, pale and thin and sick with radiation poisoning. John stood back as the rescue team rushed in, claws digging into his palm as he clenched his hands into fists. He didn't care if he was bleeding, on the contrary - it would help him to keep from reaching out for Rodney. He'd gotten used to the nervous glances of those around him over the last two years, but Rodney was a different story altogether.
He didn't think he could survive if Rodney looked at him like that. Not now.
~~~
For the first few days, no one had said anything. They'd been too happy that John was still alive, that he was sane. When a week had passed without any changes, Beckett had put on his frightened 'don't worry, lad' face and had run John through a whole new battery of tests.
Each of them had said the same.
John had raged and rallied against fate's injustice, had withdrawn and contemplated simply ending it himself, had resigned and finally accepted what he had become.
Rodney had been there the whole time, whispering promises of love and forever into blue, scaly skin.
~~~
People told him that Rodney was having a hard time down in the infirmary, even though Beckett was doing all he could to stop Rodney's body from destroying itself. What an irony.
He didn't visit. Rodney's treatment turned into one week, then two, and John figured he had enough to deal with, without his insecure monstrosity of a former boyfriend or whatever hovering by his bedside. So what if Rodney was asking for him? It was probably just to thank him for getting him back home after almost two years of working for the Genii.
John hadn't changed, much. But maybe Rodney had.
~~~
He should have known better than to trust Ladon. Should have known better than to let Rodney come on what was essentially a military mission. Should have.
But Ladon had said he'd save them from the nuke that was to incinerate Cowen, and there'd been no choice but to believe him. So they had stepped through the gate, the Genii rebels and their Atlantean prisoners, only for the latter to be knocked out on the other side. Needless to say, they hadn't arrived back on Atlantis.
Elizabeth had spent fourteen hours negotiating with Ladon: his sister for John, medical supplies for a treaty, his people for hers. In the end, she'd been successful, and all of the Genii's prisoners had been returned.
All but one.
~~~
"Are you done hiding yet?"
Rodney's voice from the doorway, and that was a surprise. John didn't look up, concentrating on the requisition form on his screen.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell you don't! What's wrong with you, John?" The words sounded hurt, bewildered.
He looked up then, into Rodney's eyes, meeting disappointment, confusion, anger. Revulsion?
John swallowed, forcing the words over his lips, "I've got nothing to say to you."
Rodney pressed his mouth into a thin, angry line, nodded, and left.
~~~
John hadn't been leaving Atlantis very often after they had lost Rodney. At first, there had been talk of relieving him of his command, sending him back to Earth, but, as Elizabeth had argued: where would he have gone?
Word had been spreading offworld like wildfire, of an Atlantean warrior half man, half Wraith, who couldn't be beaten by anyone. Who would run without pause for over a day, or climb a sheer cliff, or jump onto the roof of a house.
Who would devour little children if they didn't eat their greens, or suck a man's life from his chest for a careless word.
John's role, if he ever left his city, had turned into leading rescue missions only.
That, and intimidating people with his unholy face.
~~~
"You know, this is getting ridiculous."
Rodney, again, and God, John was beginning to feel tired.
"What are you-"
Rodney's soft, human lips against the cracked hardness of his own interrupted him, silenced him, and he stiffened for a short, endless moment before melting into the kiss with something that wasn't a sob, wasn't desperation. Rodney's hand slipped under his t-shirt, softly caressing his scaly, crested back.
"I missed you so much," he sighed against John's lips, "missed this," and John felt like a fool.
"I'm sorry," he whispered as Rodney kissed the soft skin right underneath his eyes, "I'm sorry," as gentle hands trailed a familiar path over his disfigured chest, "so sorry," as Rodney's lips closed over his hard, blue cock, tongue playing with scratchy scales.
For the first time in two years, he felt like he could breathe.
~~~
End.
~~~
Some Freely
It was dark.
Wherever he was, it was dark. And darkness was... good. Darkness was safe. When it was dark, no one could see you.
He couldn't quite remember why this was so important, not yet; he only knew that it was.
There were things with him in the darkness, though. Soft voices not far from him, mingling with a steady beep from his right. Coarse fabric underneath his right hand, and a warm, heavy weight pressing down his left. Smell, antiseptic and something familiar.
Belatedly, it occurred to him the only reason it was dark was that his eyes were closed.
And then it all came back.
The retrovirus, turning him into something different. How, for a short while, he'd been next to invincible - invulnerable, his mind sing-songed. He'd been climbing walls, seeing the delicate, silvery lines that were a man's life force. He'd been able to run faster, jump higher, take anything he wanted.
He'd been more.
No wonder the Wraith thought themselves superior, if this was what they were like. Only he suspected the whole experience had been more of a Wraith kind of 'back to the roots'. There'd been something wild inside him, and the stunner blasts hadn't so much as tickled when they'd hit. Not even a Wraith could have taken him, of that he was sure. He had become more.
Except he'd been losing so much in the process. His appearance first, then his thoughts as they became jumbled; his mind, his emotions, his humanity. Himself.
He shuddered as he remembered. Not a care in the world but hunger. No conscience, no fear, no love, no memories, no compassion, no mercy, nothing. Nothing. Just hunger. If that was the price to have the strength of a Wraith, then it had been too high.
He had refused to pay it, though. Had been kept on the right side of sanity long enough to help them save him. And it had worked, that much he knew; even if his body still felt strange, in his mind, he was himself.
John opened his eyes, then. Left the dark place behind for the familiarity of the infirmary. Teyla was talking quietly to Ronon; he could see them both through a gap in his privacy curtain. The lights had been dimmed, probably out of consideration for his alien eyes, even though his vision was almost back to normal. He looked at Rodney, who had fallen asleep, his face resting on John's blue-scaled hand, mouth slightly open: childlike, trusting, and thankfully not drooling yet. Something hard and painful clenched inside his chest, and he swallowed although his throat was dry.
No love.
Some things weren't worth their price, he knew that now. Others, thankfully, you got for free.
~~~
And this is the sequel. Kind of. temaris asked for John, peace, and I meant to write her a short tag to "Conversion". It morphed into a rather weird AU, set about two years in the future. It's still short, and probably not entirely what she wanted. On second thought, it's amazingly not what she wanted... um, I might have to write her a different story. *coughs*
Contains spoilers for "Conversion" and "Coup d'Etat".
~~~
Unwell
They found Rodney in an abandoned Genii camp, pale and thin and sick with radiation poisoning. John stood back as the rescue team rushed in, claws digging into his palm as he clenched his hands into fists. He didn't care if he was bleeding, on the contrary - it would help him to keep from reaching out for Rodney. He'd gotten used to the nervous glances of those around him over the last two years, but Rodney was a different story altogether.
He didn't think he could survive if Rodney looked at him like that. Not now.
~~~
For the first few days, no one had said anything. They'd been too happy that John was still alive, that he was sane. When a week had passed without any changes, Beckett had put on his frightened 'don't worry, lad' face and had run John through a whole new battery of tests.
Each of them had said the same.
John had raged and rallied against fate's injustice, had withdrawn and contemplated simply ending it himself, had resigned and finally accepted what he had become.
Rodney had been there the whole time, whispering promises of love and forever into blue, scaly skin.
~~~
People told him that Rodney was having a hard time down in the infirmary, even though Beckett was doing all he could to stop Rodney's body from destroying itself. What an irony.
He didn't visit. Rodney's treatment turned into one week, then two, and John figured he had enough to deal with, without his insecure monstrosity of a former boyfriend or whatever hovering by his bedside. So what if Rodney was asking for him? It was probably just to thank him for getting him back home after almost two years of working for the Genii.
John hadn't changed, much. But maybe Rodney had.
~~~
He should have known better than to trust Ladon. Should have known better than to let Rodney come on what was essentially a military mission. Should have.
But Ladon had said he'd save them from the nuke that was to incinerate Cowen, and there'd been no choice but to believe him. So they had stepped through the gate, the Genii rebels and their Atlantean prisoners, only for the latter to be knocked out on the other side. Needless to say, they hadn't arrived back on Atlantis.
Elizabeth had spent fourteen hours negotiating with Ladon: his sister for John, medical supplies for a treaty, his people for hers. In the end, she'd been successful, and all of the Genii's prisoners had been returned.
All but one.
~~~
"Are you done hiding yet?"
Rodney's voice from the doorway, and that was a surprise. John didn't look up, concentrating on the requisition form on his screen.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell you don't! What's wrong with you, John?" The words sounded hurt, bewildered.
He looked up then, into Rodney's eyes, meeting disappointment, confusion, anger. Revulsion?
John swallowed, forcing the words over his lips, "I've got nothing to say to you."
Rodney pressed his mouth into a thin, angry line, nodded, and left.
~~~
John hadn't been leaving Atlantis very often after they had lost Rodney. At first, there had been talk of relieving him of his command, sending him back to Earth, but, as Elizabeth had argued: where would he have gone?
Word had been spreading offworld like wildfire, of an Atlantean warrior half man, half Wraith, who couldn't be beaten by anyone. Who would run without pause for over a day, or climb a sheer cliff, or jump onto the roof of a house.
Who would devour little children if they didn't eat their greens, or suck a man's life from his chest for a careless word.
John's role, if he ever left his city, had turned into leading rescue missions only.
That, and intimidating people with his unholy face.
~~~
"You know, this is getting ridiculous."
Rodney, again, and God, John was beginning to feel tired.
"What are you-"
Rodney's soft, human lips against the cracked hardness of his own interrupted him, silenced him, and he stiffened for a short, endless moment before melting into the kiss with something that wasn't a sob, wasn't desperation. Rodney's hand slipped under his t-shirt, softly caressing his scaly, crested back.
"I missed you so much," he sighed against John's lips, "missed this," and John felt like a fool.
"I'm sorry," he whispered as Rodney kissed the soft skin right underneath his eyes, "I'm sorry," as gentle hands trailed a familiar path over his disfigured chest, "so sorry," as Rodney's lips closed over his hard, blue cock, tongue playing with scratchy scales.
For the first time in two years, he felt like he could breathe.
~~~
End.