neither death, nor exile, nor pain (John/Rodney, NC-17)
Title: neither death, nor exile, nor pain
Author: Mirabile Dictu
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10,516
Summary: "You're only doing it because there's no dope in Atlantis."
For dear auburnnothenna.
neither death, nor exile, nor pain
"This place stinks," John said, rubbing his nose.
"Volatile organic compounds like hydrocarbons and nitrogen oxides that have reacted with sunlight," Rodney said. "Have you been here before, Teyla?"
"I have not. It is very unpleasant."
"Some kind of temperature inversion going on, too," Rodney added, holding a hand over his eyes as he gazed out at the city. "Like in LA or London."
"We gonna be okay?" John asked.
"For a short period, yes. But let's not spend much time here."
"Hello, gentle strangers!" someone shouted.
John and Ronon stepped forward, holding their weapons across their bodies. Teyla stood closer to Rodney, John saw from the corner of his eye. "Hi," he said.
"Welcome!" the stranger said. "I am Belgar. This is Urb Major!" He gestured to the city behind him. "Also known as Mirabilia Urbis, it is the largest and most beautiful city on this continent, and home to people from many planets."
Rodney said, "Oh, yes, sundown in the Paris of the prairies."
"Rodney!" John snapped.
"It is very nice," Teyla said. "Do you not fear the Wraith will be drawn to you?"
"Oh, no -- we do not use technology they find interesting, only devices we can hide or that pose no threat to them. You will be safe here."
"Not if we breathe this air for long," John heard Rodney mutter. The air smelled about like LA the last time he was there. He wondered if these people had health advisory alerts, or spare-the-air days. Then he noticed behind Belgar a knot of men wearing some kind of uniform.
"Belgar," he asked, "are we under arrest?"
"No, no! These men are just to see to my safety, not to injure you. Come, we will meet the governor of Urb Major now."
"We are hoping to develop trade agreements with you," Teyla said, studying the men.
"Yes, of course; that's why everyone comes through the gate. We have much to offer. The governor will explain."
John and Ronon exchanged glances; Ronon raised his eyebrows. "We are here to trade," he murmured.
"The city looks wealthy," Teyla pointed out.
"Rodney?" John asked, since Rodney was uncharacteristically quiet. He looked over his shoulder at his teammate.
Rodney shrugged. "I don't see that we have a choice. A city that size, with that skyline, and the poor air quality -- they definitely have something to offer. I'm just not confident that we have anything they'll be interested in."
"Yeah, it's weird being the poor cousin, isn't it?" John said. Rodney nodded, though Teyla looked a bit offended.
"We would like to meet the governor," John told Belgar, who bowed slightly, and clapped his hands. The other men, his guards, relaxed and stepped aside, and John followed Belgar as he led them away from the stargate and into the city.
The streets weren't paved with gold, but they were paved, with cobblestones set in complex patterns. There were sidewalks, too, full of people. Small motorized vehicles shared the streets with heavily-laden carts pulled by four-legged creatures that looked like yaks.
"What's that smell?" Rodney asked suddenly, hurrying to catch up with Belgar.
Belgar sniffed deeply. "Don't really smell anything," he said. "just the air. Maybe exhaust? We use a coal tar distillate for fuel and there is a distinctive odor to it, though, frankly, I don't often notice it."
"Just on bad days," one of the guards said.
"Oh, yes, occasionally we do have to advise children and the elderly to remain indoors," Belgar said, looking embarrassed. "But really, that's rare, and you mustn't worry. I take it your world doesn't have this level of technology?"
Before Rodney could say anything, John said, "No, though we've heard of it. Amazing. Really impressive."
"Impressive," Rodney muttered. John gave him a look, and he quieted.
"Not far," Belgar promised them, and he was right; within minutes, they were escorted up steep stone steps into an oversized lobby lined with pillars.
"City Hall?" John asked Belgar.
"Administration Center," he said. "Recently remodeled. We are subject to earthquakes and there was one a few years ago."
"Great," Rodney muttered, and this time John agreed with him. Great. "How often do these earthquakes take place?"
"Well, I'm told there are tiny ones all the time, but a big one only every few hundred years. We're safe now."
John really, really hoped so. He wondered if it would be okay to ask about casualties and decided no.
Belgar and the guards took them up another flight of stairs, around a corner, and into an office. "Please wait," a woman said, rising from her desk and disappearing.
After only two or three minutes, someone said, "Belgar!" A tall man followed the woman out from an interior office. "I see you discovered who activated the stargate."
"Yes, and they are interested in trade. This is our governor, Harol Urbis."
"Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," John said, "and this is my team."
"Welcome. Tea for our guests, Fela. Sit, sit. Now, what do you think of our beautiful city?"
"It is amazing," Teyla said, and John thought she was telling the truth. The Athosians had so little left after so many cullings. Urb Major was dirty, the air bad, but the streets were broad and the buildings taller than any he'd seen other than in this galaxy except those of Atlantis.
They settled around a heavy stone table, delicate cups of a fragrant tea in front of them. "Drink, my friends. We all need to soothe the pain of life, do we not? And tell me of your world. We are interested to learn of other worlds, how we can help them hide from the Wraith. Life is so hard." He sipped his tea.
John sipped, too, taken aback by the governor's words. He wasn't sure what to say nor what he had to offer. The tea was sweet, and smelled of lavender. He watched as Rodney sniffed it cautiously, then touched his tongue to it, glancing at John, who nodded reassuringly.
"This tea is lovely," Teyla said. "I hope we will find a way to trade with you for it."
"You do not grow yasmeen on your world? How do you suffer the pain of life?"
"Not easily," Rodney said. "It's very good stuff."
The governor leaned forward. "I am a busy man," he said, "but I represent a city in need. Is there any hope that you can offer us medical supplies?"
John looked at Rodney. "Ah, none of us is a doctor," Rodney said, putting down his cup, "but we do have excellent doctors on our world. Can you be more specific? We could take a, uh, a shopping list back with us, return with a doctor, maybe."
"That would be good news," the governor said. "I invite you and your doctor to return. We can offer you yasmeen, both the tea leaves and seeds so you may try to grown your own. We have an excess of coal tar, which can be used in combustion turbines. The Wraith pay little attention to such sources of energy." He shuddered.
"When did the Wraith last visit this planet?" Teyla asked.
"Six years ago," he said softly. "We hid beneath our homes. Stone is the very heart of this world, and it protected us. The gas and coal we produce are its breath and blood, and they protect us."
John didn't know how to respond; he stared into his almost-empty cup. "I'm sorry," he heard Rodney say.
"Thank you. We have all suffered, I'm sure. When did the Wraith last cull your people?"
Teyla said, "Less than two years ago."
They sat in silence for another moment, and then the governor said, "More tea, I think." Fela poured out more, including a cup for herself. "Making meaning from these experiences is difficult," the governor said when she reseated herself. "We have all lost family and friends to the Wraith. My own little girl --" He stopped abruptly, turning the cup between his hands.
"I am so sorry," Ronon said, surprising John. "My world was destroyed. We had cities, culture, industry. Gone, now. These people took me in. I serve Sheppard in recompense."
"You are not of him, then?"
"No."
"Yes," John said at the same time, moved and embarrassed by Ronon's words. "We were born on different worlds, but we're, uh, one now."
To John's surprise, Rodney was nodding. "Teyla's from a different world, too," he said. "But we all live together now. Hiding, I guess." He sipped his tea.
"We all must hide," the governor said. Fela whispered to him, and he finished his tea. "I am sorry, but I must return to work. I look forward to seeing you again soon. As a token of our interest, Belgar will arrange to have the tea brought to the stargate so you may take some with you. Belgar?"
"Of course," Belgar said, bowing slightly.
Everyone rose, though the room spun around a bit. "Whoa," John said, catching at the table. He stood for a moment, catching his balance. "You okay?" he asked the others.
"Bit light-headed," Rodney said. Ronon closed his eyes, and Teyla leaned against him.
"You feel the yasmeen," Belgar said. "It eases the pain, does it not? It lets you remember the loss without the pain."
"I don't know about that," John said, but it was true. He was remembering Afghanistan, the beautiful sunsets and the high snowy peaks. His parents, in a photo from their youth, still in love, with everything in front of them. Shooting Sumner, but the sense of relief that he wouldn't suffer more. Flying the nuclear bomb into the hive ship, to save the people he wished to protect. He remembered these things with an almost hallucinatory clarity, but Belgar was right; he no longer felt the pain that had accompanied them.
"Sit and wait here," Fela said. "This room will not be needed for a while. Belgar will wait with you."
"Yes, of course."
But John said, "No, no. We need to get back. Rodney, can you walk?"
Rodney's face was red, as were his eyes, but he nodded. "Yeah. Slowly, but I'll get there. Let's go."
They all were able to walk, though John trailed his hand along one wall as he followed Ronon and Teyla, its cool stone grounding him in the rush of memories. He felt full, and remembered that Rodney had called the sensation "light-headed." But it was more like being filled with helium, or trying to walk on a world with less gravity than he was accustomed to. He walked slowly and carefully and, when Rodney banged into him, hung onto Rodney's jacket. Ronon and Teyla were, he saw, holding hands.
By the time they reached the stargate, a woven bag and a metal canister were waiting for them, the seeds and the processed tea. He wasn't sure how he felt about the tea, but managed with Ronon's help to get the supplies into the jumper. "Rodney," he said, but Rodney was already dialing Atlantis.
"Goodbye! Goodbye!" Belgar called, and two of their guards waved at them. John felt idiotic, but he waved back.
"Bye!" Rodney shouted, and then half-fell into his usual seat. "Oh my God, I don't know -- that tea. I just." He sighed and looked at John.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's go home," he said to the jumper, and lights came on.
"Are they slower than usual?" Rodney asked, "or are we suffering some kind of time-dilation from the tea?"
"No idea," John said, just as Ronon said, "Teyla?"
"I wish to lie down," Teyla said. John and Rodney stood up so quickly they bumped heads; by the time they moved into the back, Ronon had Teyla lying on one of the benches, her head in his lap, her jacket spread across her. "I am fine," she reassured them. "Just a bit sad."
"Sad," Ronon said.
"Yeah," Rodney agreed, rubbing his head. "Not so sure that tea's the bargain the governor thought it was. Well, get us home, Colonel, so Carson can check us out, see if we're all going to die before dinner."
John shook his head. "Cheer up, McKay," he said. "At least we'll feel good when we go."
"Oh, deprive the city of my abilities and yet feel good. Right."
But it was just noise, John knew, and he tuned it out. The sound of Rodney's voice was enough to comfort him; he didn't need to know what Rodney was saying.
The minute they exited the puddlejumper, Carson said firmly, "All four of you are spending the night in the infirmary. We'll run tests on that tea, see what it does. Rodney, I'm amazed you even tried it."
"No citrus," he said, "and it tastes really good."
"How do you feel now?" Elizabeth asked them.
John shrugged. "Fine. It wore off before we got home."
"Good stuff," Ronon said. "Really did work."
"I am perhaps a bit sleepy," Teyla admitted. "But I would drink it again."
"Me, too," John said. "It -- I." He stopped to think. "It let me see things differently," he finally said. "The governor said it let you remember the loss without pain, and that's true."
"Is that healthy?" Carson wondered, shooing them toward the infirmary. "We should have Kate here," he told Elizabeth, who nodded. "But for now, some blood and urine work, and lots of fluids to flush the tea out of your system."
"Great. I'll be peeing all night," Rodney said.
After their examination and a hearty dinner, Elizabeth stopped by to talk with John. "Off the record," she said, "how are you?"
"Off or on, I'm fine. Really. It wore off quickly."
"Do you think this is a good thing?"
John rubbed the back of his neck. "I think you need to talk to Kate," he said at last. "But yeah. I could see things really clearly, stuff I'd forgotten or maybe repressed, if you believe in that. Things I really don't want to forget." He sighed. "Maybe this stuff shouldn't be served in the mess hall, but treated as a medicine. I'd probably drink it again."
She squeezed his arm and left him wondering how to write up this report.
John used the next few days to get caught up on his paperwork, in the various inventories, in some minor disciplinary action, in planning which worlds to visit next. He saw Rodney at meals, and then one night met him with some of the engineers to watch Jaws and eat too many handsful of a kind of fried nut that Lorne's team had discovered on one of their missions.
"They'd be better salted," Rodney said as they walked back to their quarters.
"I can hear Carson moaning about blood pressure," John said, "but yeah, that would be good. How's the desalinization project going, anyway?"
"Brilliantly. The naquadah generators really make short work of it, and we use the salt both here and for trade. Surprising, really, how many salt-poor worlds there are in this galaxy. Plus it's naturally high in iodine."
"So we won't be developing goiters any time soon."
Rodney nodded, pausing outside the door to John's quarters. "You try that tea again?" he asked.
"No, no. You?"
"No, though Ronon asked about it. He thinks we should do a ceremony or something."
"Ronon came to you about that?"
"Well, no, obviously not. He went to Zelenka and I overheard. They're friends," Rodney said, sounding almost insulted at the idea.
"So he told Radek about the tea? What did he say?"
"He said he used to get loaded a lot in college, and that he never would have made it through grad school without Dexedrine and dope."
John started to laugh. "I can see Radek on dex -- can you imagine his hair?"
Rodney laughed, too. "So that's what happened to it. I only tried marijuana once. I was such a freak, and just shut up, okay? Because I couldn't really use it. I mean, one try, that's not an adequate sample to derive a baseline, but I felt like I was going to roll right off the world."
"Now there's an image."
"Yeah. Not my drug of choice. Caffeine, now, and alcohol."
"So you stayed with the traditionals."
"Grass isn't traditional?"
John nodded. "Point taken."
"But that tea." Rodney shoved his hands into his pockets. "You know, I would try it again, here on Atlantis, knowing that quack was around to stick an IV into me if something happened."
"How can you insult Carson and yet rely on him?"
"Oh, like you don't. Would you try the tea again?"
John nodded. "I've been thinking about it. And yeah, in controlled circumstances, I would. I liked it. I saw --" He stopped. Rodney looked closely at him, raising his eyebrows curiously. "My folks," John finally said. "And other stuff. Bad stuff. You?"
"My parents, too," Rodney admitted. "And yeah, bad stuff. Except, you know, it didn't hurt. Didn't bring back bad memories. It just was. Like that moron Parrish is always saying: mindfulness practice."
"Parrish is not a moron," John said firmly; he heard good things about Parrish from Lorne.
"No, I know," Rodney said, surprising John. "But really. Mindfulness practice. I ask you."
"Well, he's a botanist, not a physicist," John offered.
"So true," Rodney said. "Well, night."
"Night." John watched Rodney continue down the corridor, and then called after him, "Hey. Seriously. Tea?"
Rodney turned and studied him, his usual sardonic expression on his face. "If you're up, I'm up," he finally said.
"Cool."
"You're only doing it because there's no dope in Atlantis."
"More fool you," John said, and stepped into his quarters before Rodney could say anything else. He actually didn't know for sure that there was dope in Atlantis, but he'd be willing to bet good money there was, either brought from Earth or grown in one of the many labs.
"Is there really marijuana here?" Rodney asked him at lunch the next day.
"Why? You wanna buy a lid?"
"No, I already told you I can't use it. I'm just curious. It makes sense there would be; I started thinking about it last night, and just because I don't use it, doesn't mean no one does. It's like booze. I know for a fact there are stills here. I have my theories who's responsible and where they are, but I don't want to investigate because what if Elizabeth asks me? I need plausible deniability. So I figure the same about grass."
"What?" John said. Rodney gave him a pained look. "Seriously, yeah, I feel the same way. I can't help but overhear some things, but I try not to know-know, you know?"
"I know." Rodney ate more of the fried fish thoughtfully. "I've never seen it, but did you know there's a kind of sauna-baths thing here?"
"No, you're kidding? In Atlantis?"
"Yeah. Being used by a bunch of people, if I understand what I'm hearing correctly, like more than half the base. No one's told us because they're afraid it'll be placed off limits, or restricted only to officers, some bullshit like that."
"Any idea where?"
Rodney grinned at him. "Colonel, between my knowledge of the Ancient's database and your ability to turn on anyone and anything, I bet we can find it."
"Cool," John said. "Tonight. I'll bring more of those fried nuts."
"Would if offend your sensibilities if I brought some hooch?"
"If by hooch you mean illicitly-brewed alcohol?"
"I do."
"That's -- okay, that'll work. Is it any good?"
"I like it. The kind I have is like cider, so not too strong."
"From one of the many stills that you know for a fact exist." He grinned at Rodney. "See you at seven. My quarters," John said, rising to bus his tray. It occurred to him he'd just made a date with Rodney McKay to drink illegal alcohol. Well, what the hell. Rodney had provided a constant stream of irritable but amusing background music to John's entire Atlantis experience, sort of John's personal Muzak of opinion, information, and complaints; he was used to it. He liked it.
But when Rodney bustled into John's quarters, carrying, John was happy to see, a frosty thermos, he said, "Found it, spent some time looking over the schematics and then the power readings, and it's obvious. If I'd had a minute of free time I would've noticed it earlier, but really, I can't be expected to notice, well, maybe I can, but I found it now. Here," he pushed John aside and sat at his little desk. "Boot up your computer and bring up the structural diagram of the city."
"Well, you're at my --" John tried to point out.
"Oh, yes, I see. Here. Pour us a glass; I'll do this." He opened John's laptop, which John thought was rude but also very Rodney. While Rodney launched Project, complaining bitterly about Bill Gates, Linus Torvalds, and Steve Jobs, John poured them the cider. "Here, me, too," Rodney said, snapping his fingers at John while continuing to poke at the keyboard with his other hand.
"No eating or drinking over the laptop," John warned. Rodney spared him a cool glance, but did push away from the desk a bit. John knew that Radek had layered plastic over Rodney's keyboard the second time he'd knocked or spit coffee into it; Rodney called it a computer condom but suffered it because, John thought, it gave him more to complain about.
"Okay, look. Hey, this is good chilled." He beamed at John.
"It is pretty tasty."
"It's blended with apple juice, and don't ask me how I know that, because you're as close to a police force as Atlantis has."
"Unless some problem arises, I'm not gonna pursue this, Rodney."
"Good, I didn't think so. Besides, I don't really know; no one will tell me anything and I don't have time to investigate it. Now what about the baths? Are you, ah, cool with them, too?" He blocked John's view of the monitor, waiting.
"Is it diverting significant power? How much time are people spending there when they should be working? Have we lost any resources because of it? Any behavior problems?"
Rodney shook his head. "I, uh, actually talked to a few people about it once I found it. Radek and I also went over the logs. If anything, I'd say people's performance has improved and their productivity increased. I also hacked into your logs --"
"Hey!" John interrupted. "We've discussed this before, Rodney."
"I know, and I restricted my search this time to look only for problems arising from the use of the baths, like when they were being used and immediately afterwards. If anything, there are fewer reports of behavioral problems."
John nodded his head. "So it's an escape valve, a way to burn off energy."
"I think so. Radek does, too. Radek told me about the place in Antarctica. I never knew," and John saw that Rodney was blushing in the light of the monitor. "You probably did, but the baths down there? Radek told me almost everyone went, even the higher echelons. All rank was meaningless, he said, but of course he would; he respects military regulations just as much as I do, which is to say not at all."
"I went to those baths, Rodney. Yeah, they were great, but I did see some problems there. Too much drinking --"
"Which you will admit was the norm for Antarctica."
"Well, there were some problems, but the people who went took care of them."
"A private police force."
John shrugged. "I preferred to think of it as Southern hemisphere hospitality."
Rodney lifted one shoulder. "I'll trust you on that."
"Why didn't you go, Rodney? I had some great times there."
"Nobody ever told me about it. I'd heard rumors, of course, and read some stuff on the internet, but I figured if I wasn't invited, I wasn't going to just show up."
"Unlike here." But the look on Rodney's face made John sorry he'd said that. "It's different here," he added quickly.
"Is it? I know I'm not, I mean, you've often pointed out that I'm lacking in certain social skills. But I thought if you were with me . . ."
"Rodney. It's okay. I want to go. And I want to go with you. Here, drink up." He put the cup back into Rodney's hand and gently clinked his cup against it. "To secret saunas and underground baths."
"To the demi-monde," Rodney said, and they drank. "Okay. Let's go when there's no one else there; no need to embarrass our subordinates."
"And when would that be?"
"Well, I charted out things like who's on and off duty, power fluctuations, and without scanning directly, it looks to me as though it would be around three am."
"Can you scan that part of the city?"
"I can now," Rodney said, tapping at the keyboard with one hand again. John took away his nearly empty cup. "Okay, I've routed the results to me; they'll be automatically charted. In a week or so, I'll be able to give you more precise information."
"Then we'll go," John decided.
"I thought you might want to go first, by yourself, when others were around," Rodney said. "You could be more discreet, and see if there were any problems."
"You mean go in my official capacity?" Rodney nodded. "Look, Rodney, I get that you didn't go in Antarctica, but the point was there was no official capacity. When you're naked in hot water, no one's rank means shit."
"Naked? Wait, so you're not worried that it'll cause problems if we're there and others see us?"
"See you naked? McKay, I hate to tell you, but --"
"Shut up, you know I didn't mean that. I meant it will, ah, change the social dynamics."
"It'll be okay. And yeah, I can go. Hell, we can go right now if you want. I just thought you wanted to go alone with me."
"What, like a date? Were you -- did you think?" Rodney stared at John, then licked his lips. "You thought I was asking you to come with me alone for a reason? And you agreed, you totally agreed."
John wanted to play confused, or stupid, but he understood exactly what Rodney was saying. "Look. I didn't really think this through. I understand that you're concerned, and can I say that I didn't expect you to be this sensitive? That you're concerned your presence will in some way, uh, diminish the quality of the experience for others. But Rodney, I mean, yeah, if you barged in telling people what to do, or to get out, it would be shitty. But you're not going to, right? You're going to sit in the water, play a little, pass the bottle around, whatever. You're going to fit in, right?"
Rodney scratched his nose and rolled his shoulders; John had known him long enough to recognize these as ways to postpone responding. "Rodney?"
"Fit in, right," Rodney muttered. "Look, Colonel --"
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Rodney. Why can't you call me John? It's not that difficult to pronounce, even for a Canadian who can't say zee."
As John had hoped, Rodney glared at him. "Okay, John, here's the deal, and I'm going to be even more brutally honest that I usually am. People tend not to like me. Even though you never worked at Area 51 or SGC, you must have figured this out or heard about it from the military who did. And even though you were brought into the Stargate Program literally at the last minute, you were at Antarctica while I was. You knew about the baths there and I didn't. You've taken me to task about my behavior here in Atlantis. You already know what I'm trying not to say. I just, it just doesn't naturally occur to me to think that I might be, you know, welcome. Anywhere."
"Jesus, Rodney. Yes, you can be a huge pain in the ass. And frankly, your insecurity is annoying." John kept talking over Rodney's protest at the word insecurity. "But you've saved literally everybody in this city time and time again. You have friends on a dozen planets. You had a kid named after you on M76-677, for God's sake. I'm trying to say that yes, you just might be welcome in Atlantis. If you'd, you know, shut up once in a while." Rodney stared up at him, then rose and walked out of John's quarters. "Rodney? Rodney, Goddammit."
Rodney turned in the corridor to look back at John. "I don't mean to be rude," he said, drawing himself up, "but that's a lot of information even for me to absorb all at once." He looked at John as if he'd never seen him before. "Thank you, Colonel. Uh, John. It's late. We'll talk again when I've collected some data."
"Okay." John stood in the hallway and watched Rodney walk away.
John didn't ask Rodney about the baths when they next met, at a department head meeting, where Rodney seemed like his old self: he talked too much and too fast as they planned upcoming trade missions, re-deployed personnel on new projects, and tried to formulate a more comprehensive project management plan. But about ten days later, he saw Rodney standing hesitantly in the entrance to the mess hall, looking around. John waved, and Rodney hurried toward where he sat eating lunch. "Not hungry?" John asked, surprised he hadn't stopped to fill a tray.
"Don't be ridiculous; of course I am. But I have some results about the --" he glanced around the room and dropped his voice -- "about the baths."
"Cool." John took another spoonful of the soup. "Grab something to eat and let's talk."
"Here?"
John just gave him a look, the one he was working on to silence Rodney, who gave him his own look in return, but said, "Hey, that soup looks good."
Though Rodney insisted on sitting right next to John and whispering -- "You don't think this is suspicious behavior?" -- John enjoyed it, enjoyed his ideas.
"Look, it graphs out to around three am that the baths are almost empty. No guarantee, of course, but from what you said, you don't think it matters much anyway."
"I don't. I'm only catering to your paranoia."
"Really? I didn't think it was paranoia."
"Rodney. It's okay. We can go this minute if you want. But three am. What day? What's my schedule?"
"Call it up on my tablet. Hey, don't smudge it."
"You're a fine one to be talking about smudging it. I can tell just looking at it what you had for breakfast two days ago."
"That's ridiculous, I'm not, okay, shit, wipe that off the keyboard, okay?"
"Let's just go tonight. I'll get you. Around oh-two-thirty."
Rodney froze. "Really?"
"Yeah, really. That's the point, right? To go see?"
"Yeah. I just never thought -- you know, you can be a very surprising person, Colonel."
"Well, you can be a very annoying person, Doctor, so I'd say we're even." John finished his soup and stood up. "Unless there's an emergency, see you tonight."
"Technically, tomorrow morning."
There was an emergency, of course, John told himself while he prepped to pilot a jumper to MA5-393, where a Beta site was being built. He hated that place; it was too hot and he wasn't convinced building a Beta site was a good use of their resources, but both Rodney and Elizabeth did, and he trusted their judgment. "Carson? You ready?"
"As I'll ever be," he said. John saw that Carson was already sweating and they were still in Atlantis.
"You drinking your fluids?"
"If I drink any more, you'll have to stop the jumper somewhere to let me pee before we get there," he said.
"Radek?"
"Ready, Colonel. And I too will need to stop shortly."
"All right, I'll schedule a potty break en route." He tapped on his headset. "Elizabeth, we're ready." Ronon and Teyla were already waiting in the jumper, and Rodney had powered it up for him, moving to the passenger seat as John boarded. By the time he was seated, the gate was open and within an hour they were on MA5-393, sweating bullets, while Rodney and Radek worked on Lorne's jumper and he and Beckett made sure the team that had been stranded there were healthy.
"Just another day in the Pegasus Galaxy," Rodney said to him when they were back in Atlantis stripping for showers, their clothes saturated with sweat and salt.
"Colonel, I've been talking to Dr. Zelenka, and he thinks he could show me how to diagnose shit like what happened today," Lorne called to them.
"Good idea. Rodney, you okay with that idea?"
"Anything that will keep us from wasting time out of the labs is a good idea," he said gruffly, but John saw him nod at Radek. From Rodney that was practically a meritorious service medal.
"It's a go, then," John said, and headed into a cold shower, yelping with pleasure.
At oh-two-twenty, he stood outside Rodney's quarters, resting his hand on the door and thinking wake up, Rodney. The door slid open, revealing in the dim light Rodney sitting on the side of his bed, eyes nearly glued together in sleep. "I guess I should have checked earlier, seen if you still wanna go," John said.
"Of course I do," Rodney said, scratching his chest through his tee shirt. "Oh my God, I'm sleepy. Let me uh --" he gestured toward the bathroom.
"Yeah, I'll wait. I brought --" he lifted the thermos. "For in the baths."
"Brilliant. Although if I can get up tomorrow, it'll be a miracle."
"Weir gave us the day off, remember?"
"Oh, like that stops emergencies from cropping up," Rodney said, but he sounded more awake and finally stood up. "Come in, don't loiter in the corridor, what if someone sees you? You have no sense of self-preservation, do you."
He continued to mutter as he went into the bathroom, but John ignored him. He pulled out the tiny joint from his pocket and looked around. "You got matches? A lighter?" he called.
"What the hell for? You gonna burn candles? In the drawer in my desk, right-hand side." The right-hand side drawer was clearly Rodney's junk drawer, but after poking around John found a box of Diamond matches, then slid them open. "What do you need matches for?" Rodney asked, startling John. He was buttoning his trousers, a battered pair of khakis with paint stains on the knees that John recognized.
"That's from when we named the puddlejumpers," John said, gesturing.
"Yeah." Rodney looked at his knees. "That was fun. I still can't believe Elizabeth let us."
"Well, we did have to get her approval for the names, and then paint them where no one could see them," John pointed out.
"Still. That's more than the SGC would have done. Are you smoking a joint?"
John took a deep hit and held out the joint to Rodney, who took it cautiously. "I told you that I had a bad experience with this."
"That was Earth marijuana. This is from the Pegasus Galaxy. It's not a cannabinoid. Similar effects, I grant you, but entirely different chemistry."
Rodney took the joint and stared at it, then at John. "You're telling me that you've smoked this before? How did you even hear about it? Aren't you supposed to, you know, court martial people or something when you catch them?"
"Look, Rodney," John said, feeling awkward and embarrassed. "We're a long way from Earth. This stuff doesn't even exist on Earth, so there can't be a law against it. I figure it's like alcohol: under certain conditions, closely monitored, it really helps. Especially this stuff." He reached out to take back the joint, but Rodney jerked away, put it in his mouth, and inhaled noisily. "Hold it," John warned him, which Rodney did, glaring at him as he handed it back.
"If I get crazy," he warned when he finally exhaled.
"Crazier," John said, taking another hit. "And if you do, I'll take care of you. Look, Rodney, this is to have some fun, you know? Fun?" He tamped out the joint and slid it back into his pocket. "You still wanna go?"
Rodney studied him carefully, crossing his arms and even tilting his head a bit. "You're an interesting man, Colonel." He smiled. "I might be feeling the effect. What's it called?"
"Dope. The Marines call it dope."
They left Rodney's quarters and started their long walk to the baths. "So I'm to understand you just walked up to one of the grunts --"
"Don't call them that, Rodney."
"To one of your Marines and said, hey, can I buy a number off you?"
"No, of course not. I know I'm a lousy officer --"
"Shut up. You are not a lousy officer; you're one of the few military people I have ever respected."
"Hey. Thank you. Uh, well, so I actually went to one of your scientists --"
"No! I can't believe it. Except -- it's Parrish, right? Totally got to be Parrish."
"Shut up, Rodney. I'm not going to tell you who I got it from. The point is it's not cannabis, it's grown here in Atlantis, and I keep a close eye on its use and distribution. If you think I'm out of line, tell me and we can discuss it. I'm willing to admit this might not be the wisest decision . . ."
"No, actually I think it's a good one. In Siberia? Vodka stills everywhere, and in Antarctica, people smuggled dope in in everything; if they'd been that creative in their work, we'd be years ahead of where we are. Hey, how far is this place?"
"Well, if it is this place, we've got two more transporter rides, and then another hike. Maybe fifteen minutes."
"Oh my God." Rodney stopped. "I'm coming on to the drug."
"You mean it's coming on to you."
"Whatever. My head -- am I sweating? I'm sweating. I'm high, aren't I. Are my pupils dilated?" He opened his eyes very wide.
John started to laugh. "You are the worst stoner in the galaxy, Rodney. No, your pupils aren't dilated, and you're not sweating; it's just been a hike."
"Are you stoned?"
"Just a little. It's a really mellow high, very slow to come onto. Actually makes me sleepy."
"So not manic."
"Well, there is such a thing as a paradoxical reaction to a drug."
"Oh, thank you so much. Just what I needed to hear."
"Do you want to go back, wake up Carson?"
They walked a few more steps, and then Rodney said, "No. Actually," and he grinned at John, "I don't remember the last time I felt this good."
"If you start giggling . . ."
They grinned at each other, and John made a sound he realized could be misinterpreted as a giggle.
Rodney pointed ahead of them. "Hey, are the lights dimmer here, or is that another side effect?"
John paused and looked around. "They are a little dimmer. We should have brought a laptop so you could check power fluctuations."
"Well, I thought we'd be in water and laptops, as I know from personal experience, don't like water."
John wasn't sure how to respond to Rodney's allusion to when his jumper sank, so he just nodded. The lights were definitely getting dimmer the farther they hiked through the long winding corridors. "This city is so big," he finally said, speaking softly. Rodney nodded.
"Enormous, and still mostly unexplored, other than with sensors. If only things weren't so dire; we really should be exploring it."
"I think we'll start," John said. "I'll talk to Elizabeth, because who knows what resources might be here that we don't know about. Digging through the Ancient's database isn't the only way to make these discoveries."
"Do you know how the baths were found? Was it the linguists? I bet it was; those social scientists know my feelings about them. They'd never tell me."
"You are paranoid."
"No, this is my default setting, Colonel. You know that."
John patted Rodney's arm, in comfort but also to draw his attention. "Look," he pointed ahead. The lights were almost completely out, just an occasional glow.
"This is the way," Rodney whispered. "It's still a bit of a hike. I really need to analyze power usage more thoroughly, section by section, rather than overall."
They walked more, the air getting warmer and more humid. "Rodney," John whispered, slowing. "I'm baked."
Rodney laughed, putting his hand on his head. "Me, too," he said, and they both laughed. "Oh my God, I'm stoned. Stoned in Atlantis. Sounds like a band. No, like a CD title."
"Listen," John murmured. They paused to listen; John could hear a regular thumping, and what might be distant voices. They continued into the darkened hallways, which got darker and darker. As they turned into an even darker corridor, the thump of a bass became clearer.
"That's the Dandy Warhols," Rodney said.
"Not Stoned in Atlantis?" he joked. "Hey, we could dance to it." What the hell were they going to find when they finally reached the baths?
"I can't see anything," Rodney whispered. "Can you see anything?"
Before John could answer, Radek's voice surprised them both. "Ah, Rodney! We've been expecting you for weeks. And with John."
"Radek? What the hell? Whoa." John grabbed Rodney's arm; the corridor was wet and slippery.
"Water, water everywhere," Radek said. They still couldn't see anyone, but the heat and humidity had risen even more dramatically; John was literally dripping. "Come, come. Yes, keep walking toward our voices and the music."
They followed the bass line, Radek's voice, and a faint blue glow, the water getting deeper until John's running shoes were soaked. Rodney clutched at him as he skidded along, muttering under his breath. Suddenly there was Radek's silhouette in a wide door. Beyond him, John could see nothing but a luminous blue, the color of the Antarctic winter sky. The noise pounded into his entire body; he felt as though he could feel the music in his chest.
"You wore clothes?" Radek shouted, reaching out to hold them. "They will be so wet. Ah, hm. What to do. No hooks, no place to hang them -- just leave them on top of your shoes."
"What, naked?" Rodney hissed, but John had already bumped into Radek's hairy chest.
"Just strip, Rodney," he said, pulling off his tee shirt, kicking off his sodden shoes. He heard more than saw Rodney do the same. He set his shoes together, and then piled his clothes on top of them, making sure his tee shirt was on top in the hope it wouldn't get too wet. He could wear it and his briefs back. Rodney, he knew, was probably tossing his clothes everywhere. "Remember, you have to find them later," he whispered. Rodney swore and began flailing around, his hand landing on John's hip.
"Sorry, sorry," he babbled, and Radek laughed.
"Go," he said, pushing at John and Rodney. The water deepened but there was no edge like in a pool; the water just rose higher and higher. It was warm, and seemed to be circulating. Rodney was still clinging to John and whispering something nervously.
"Rodney, chill," he whispered.
"Oh, easy for you to say, you're military, you're an athlete, you're used to being naked with a bunch of people who could kill you."
"For God's sake," John said, putting his arm around Rodney. "No more of that dope; you really are more paranoid than usual." With his other arm, he patted the air until he found Rodney's head and leaned forward to whisper, "I swear to you, Rodney, that nobody wants to kill you. And if by some freak chance someone makes an attempt? They'll have to go through me."
"Thank you," Rodney sighed. They were waist deep in the warm bubbling water now. John's eyes had begun to adjust to what little light there was but he still could see only blobs instead of individuals, and unless someone spoke, and loud enough to be heard over the music, he hadn't recognized anyone but Radek. Who the hell was here? Rodney was clinging to him like a limpet, which was so open to misinterpretation, but right now, he didn't care. He just wanted to sink into the water and relax.
"Oh, the hooch," he said suddenly. He'd forgotten the thermos back in Rodney's quarters.
"We have it, John," Radek said. "It will reach you soon. Sit, listen, meditate."
Meditate? In this racket? But John pulled Rodney down and back, squeezing between other naked bodies; the one next to John hairier than Radek. Rodney yelped. "What?" he tried to whisper into Rodney's ear, but Rodney turned and knocked into his nose.
"Tits," he hissed. "I accidentally touched someone's breast."
"Oh, for -- Rodney, I know even you have touched tits before." Thank God the music was so loud, John thought as soon as he said that. Jesus. Who was in the room? Was Carson here? Surely not; he was so shy, and such a mama's boy. But maybe Cadman had got him here; John could imagine her in this massive hot tub.
The water moved faster around them; someone must have rigged some kind of pump to spin it so quickly. The air was thick with humidity and seemed to sparkle; maybe droplets of water catching what little light there was, or maybe John was hallucinating. Then the man next to him pushed a plastic bottle in his hand, like a water bottle, but when he lifted it to his mouth, he smelt alcohol. He took an enormous mouthful, choking only a little, and passed to carefully to Rodney.
"Oh my God, they're going to poison me."
The music changed to something instrumental but still pounding, a little faster; John thought his heart was speeding up to match the rhythm. He could also see better; his eyes had fully adjusted and his acuity had returned. He had excellent night vision, due, a doctor he had briefly dated had told him, to the arrangement of cones on his retina. Whatever the reason, he could see that the guy next to him, chugging on another water bottle filled with hooch, was Captain Parker, and that the woman next to Rodney was Lieutenant Crown, and Rodney was right, she did have big tits. Funny how they floated near the top of the water, and they did not look that big under her uniform. Not that he'd ever really looked.
"You're staring," Rodney whispered, poking his arm.
"Tits," John said directly into his ear, trying not to laugh, just as the music changed again, louder and faster.
"You're loaded."
Parker passed John the bottle again, and this time he took two big gulps. People were swaying with the music; you really could dance to it. Rodney drank deeply and passed the bottle to Crown, reaching carefully above and around her breasts. "Have you seen Schoenmaker?" John asked, still speaking directly into Rodney's ear. He gestured further to Rodney's right.
"Bets Schoemaker? Oh my God." They both stared at Bets, a robust middle-aged woman who'd stood to finish the plastic bottle. She tossed it away and started to dance in time to the music, her large breasts bouncing as she turned in a circle. In the near-dark, with a deep blue glow rising up from the water, she was beautiful. There was some kind of strobe effect, maybe due to the water spinning and sloshing. Others began to rise and dance, alone, in couples. "That's, that's," Rodney said, his mouth open. "I don't know what that is."
"That's nasty," John said, but he was moving, too. He didn't think anyone could sit still to this beat. He was a bit drunk as well; whatever was in the plastic bottles being circulated was powerful shit. "Come on," he said to Rodney, and yanked him up. The weird blue light, the warm sloshing water, the buzz from the alcohol and the dope, the press of so many naked bodies against him pushed him into some kind of hyper-aware state; he felt voluptuous and profoundly conscious of the carnality of his body, of all the bodies moving around him, brushing past him, pressing against him.
Everyone was dancing now, splashing in the water, bouncing off each other, embracing, spinning, jumping. John was sweating, breathing hard, and he couldn't help but lean into Rodney's sturdy body as they moved in a kind of line dance-lap dance-whirling Dervish motion, knocking into others. He was surrounded by warm naked bodies, rubbing against him, bumping into him, grabbing at his hands and arms and hips and ass. He was more than aroused; it felt like his whole body was engorged, not just his dick, which bobbed in the water as he surged along with the others. Rodney was dancing, too, looking just as awkward as John would have guessed, had he ever had occasion to imagine Rodney dancing nude in an enormous dark hot tub.
He was filled with affection for his teammate and friend. Rodney was such a pain in the ass, but he was smart and funny, and he and John had clicked in a way John hadn't with anyone in years. Decades, maybe. "I'm so fucking loaded," he shouted, but no one could hear him over the music but Rodney, and Rodney was loaded, too.
Someone crashed into John, who crashed into Rodney, who caught him and held him upright. "It's that fucking Parrish, the guy who sold you the dope," he shouted into John's ear.
"Wasn't Parrish!" John shouted back, but he hung onto Rodney, and they danced together. He draped his arms over Rodney's shoulders and Rodney put his hands on John's hips, and then their dicks knocked against each other, which felt so good that John pulled Rodney closer. They groaned in unison. "Fuck," Rodney whispered; John couldn't hear him, but he saw his mouth, that big, noisy, sexy mouth moving in the weird strobing blue light that sparkled, so he kissed Rodney, feeling drunk and drugged and incredibly turned on.
Rodney kissed him back, fiercely pulling John against him, so they shimmied in time to the music, rubbing off against each other while others danced around them, pushing against them. Someone kissed the back of John's neck, and he felt hands wind around him and Rodney, rubbing his back and shoulders and then someone's knee pressed into his ass, and he thought he was floating in space, only it was hot and sexy and he couldn't believe he'd never done this before, clearly human beings were made to pile together in warm, wet, sensual mounds of flesh and mouths and hands and dicks and assholes. Kissing Rodney, kissing him with all he had, holding Rodney's head firmly, telling him with his lips and tongue how much he wanted him, how long he'd wanted him, while everyone in Atlantis stroked and caressed and fondled and felt his body, and then he was coming, gasping into Rodney's mouth, pumping against his hip, biting his shoulder, and Rodney came on him, his semen thick and hot even in the hot water.
John could barely breathe; he rested his head against Rodney's shoulder, still clinging to him, panting, a little embarrassed but mostly relieved this was done. Now Rodney knew. When he finally raised his head, Rodney was watching him closely, his face red from the heat, dripping with sweat and splashed water, his eyes almost glowing in the weird light. "I didn't know you liked the Scissors Sisters that much," Rodney finally shouted, and they started dancing again, John laughing.
Who the fuck were the Scissors Sisters?
They danced for hours, touching each other in the most intimate ways, watching each other, kissing, handling each other's bodies with confidence. John couldn't stop from noticing the others, doing the same and more, combining in the most unlike subsets of the population: civilian and military, military and military, men and women and men in couples and triples and dancing spinning fucking groups sending splashes of water high into the air. The music kept getting louder and faster, into some kind of weird, skippy, Indian-sounding dance music that kept him moving, colliding into Rodney, the two of them colliding into others dancing just as fiercely as they were.
The music started to slow eventually, and John discovered he was slow dancing with Rodney McKay. Not something he would have anticipated, but then, he never dreamt he'd have public sex with him, either. Rodney looked more than half asleep, his head flopping as he danced, moving in John's arms, his eyes hidden, his hair slicked down and back. "Better'n Sam," he said, kissing John. "You're just so much better." John figured he meant Sam Carter, Lieutenant Colonel Carter, and he felt his dick perk up at the thought that Rodney thought he was better than she, though at what John wasn't sure.
The music finally died away, and there was only the sound of the water splashing, and people breathing deeply. "Time to go," Rodney said, opening his eyes.
"Yeah, before we all turn into pumpkins." He pushed his dick against Rodney's thigh, running his hands down Rodney's body. "What's gonna happen next?"
"Bed," Rodney said firmly. "We have the day off, right? I'm taking it off in your bed."
"Mine? Why mine?"
"No one will look for me there, and it's closer to this place and farther from the lab." They broke apart, John turning to figure out where the entrance was. "This way," Rodney said, tugging on his hand, and they followed the others up the ramp out of the water and into the corridor. Their clothes were somewhere, John knew, and tried to remember where.
"Here, John," he heard Radek say, his voice raspy from singing and shouting. John couldn't see anything in the dark corridor, but felt his wet clothes pressed into his arms.
The others were leaving, too, slouching together, he could feel, but still not see. When they did reach the lighted section of the corridor, he kept his eyes down, looking at his feet as he waded through the warm water, and once at Rodney, who smiled at him, his face puffy from lack of sleep. He handed Rodney a tee shirt; together they juggled the clothes while they pulled on tees and briefs before continuing into the better lighted way. John started to recognize some of the others; they looked so different dripping in the white light of the hallway.
They squelched on, not touching now, but John was painfully aware of Rodney's body so near his own. The closer they drew to his quarters, the more he wondered what this would mean -- what about the men who served under him who'd been in there? While spinning and fucking and drinking, he'd felt safe and protected, loved, even, but now he felt dangerously exposed.
When they reached the nearest transporter, John found himself looking straight into Lieutenant Crown's face. "Sir," she said, as if she hadn't just seen him with Rodney, as if they weren't standing in their own puddle.
"Lieutenant," he replied, pressing the map so the transporter would return them.
"Glad you could join us," she continued, looking him in the eyes. "It's a good thing, that place."
He felt the others listening to their exchange and for a moment froze, not knowing what to say. Then Rodney poked him in the kidney, and he smiled. "It is a good place. Different."
"Well, we're not on Earth anymore," Crown said with a small smile.
"No, you're kidding," Rodney said, and everyone heaved a sigh of relief, including John. "Earth is in another galaxy, and inhabited by intellectual morons and emotional midgets. This is, like, I don't know. Like a physicist's heaven."
"Space vampires are part of a physicist's heaven?" someone said, and John laughed along with everyone else, including Rodney.
"Well, yes, there is that small inconvenience. But we'll figure it out," he said, and rested his hand on John's waist. "You might have noticed we have some smart people here."
"Pretty damn smart," John agreed, and then the transporter opened and they filed out, heading toward the transporters that would take them to their own sections.
"Rodney," Radek called, pausing and dripping. "See you soon?"
"In the lab? Yes, later today or tomorrow. In the baths? How often . . ."
"Every night, Doc," Crown said. "Not everybody goes every night, but there's always someone there."
"And the music? I'd like to contribute to the library. I have some small musical ability myself."
"Oh, hey, me, too," John said quickly.
"Just email me the navigation to it on the server," said Parker. "Me and Thompson program that."
"You code?" Rodney said sharply. "Why didn't I know this? Report to my lab tomorrow, Captain, and bring this Thompson person. We need to talk."
Parker looked at John, who shrugged. "You heard the man," he said. "Tell Lorne I said it was okay."
"Yes, of course it's okay, we need more code monkeys."
"Rodney," Radek said in a warning voice. "We need programmers."
"Yes, yes, you're right. Sorry, Captain. But come see me. There might be some work for you."
"Yes, sir," Parker said, looking wide-eyed at the thought.
John smiled. "Welcome to my world, Captain."
"Oh, like you don't love it," Rodney said, and he definitely sounded like himself again. "Come on, I'm exhausted and thirsty and want about a dozen paracetamol before my headache kicks in." He tugged at John's damp tee shirt and everyone started moving again.
Another transporter ride and more walking along deserted hallways, and then finally they stood in front of John's quarters, the door sliding open in welcome. Rodney hesitated before he entered. "I kind of invited myself over," he pointed out.
"Stop dripping," John said, pulling off the tee shirt and tossing it into the sink in his bathroom.
"I suppose discretion as the better part of valor is no longer possible," Rodney said as he walked into the room. The door slid shut behind him and the lights dimmed.
"You said you wanted bed," John said. He was starting to feel nervous again. "You specifically said my bed."
"I do. Jesus, how can you not know that now, after everything?"
"Well."
They stood looking at each other, and then Rodney started undressing, throwing his clothes into the bathroom. "We're going to trip over those things and kill ourselves."
"I'll risk it," John said. His heart was pounding again, almost as hard as it had been when they'd been at the height of the dance, spinning in the hot water, surrounded by friends and co-workers. "I'll risk this, if you will."
"Thank God," Rodney said. He stood for a moment, naked, the air cool enough to draw his skin into goosebumps, and then passed John to pull back the sheets on the small bed. "It'll be crowded but you should know I'm a snuggler. I hope that's okay." He climbed into the bed and looked at John, who watched him swallow.
"You are so fucking brave," John finally said, and climbed in next to him. The lights went out except for a pale blue line where the walls met the ceiling. John hadn't ever seen that before; he wondered if Rodney's presence had triggered it. The light was pretty, and almost exactly the same color as the water they'd danced in. He looked down at Rodney for a moment before lying next to him, putting his arm across Rodney's chest. "So brave."
"If I am," Rodney whispered, "I'm brave only for you." He stretched his neck enough to kiss John, who rolled on top of him, getting twisted in the top sheet, and kissed him back. "For you," Rodney said again, later, just before they fell asleep. "I do these idiotic things for you."
John smiled to himself and closed his eyes. Then he remembered something. "Hey. We never tried the tea."
"Oh, please," Rodney groaned. "I was half asleep. We'll try that another time. One bizarre experience at a time, okay?"
"Okay," John whispered. "Go to sleep."
"Besides," Rodney said, his voice barely audible, "being with you like this eases the pain just fine."
"Just fine," John echoed. Rodney was right. Being crammed together in a too-small bed, knowing how Rodney felt now, and what Rodney wanted, eased the pain better than the tea ever had. He'd stay here for a while. They could try the tea another time.
Beta by princessofg and auburnnothenna, with the patience of angels. Title from Epictetus.
21 April, 2006: anna_luna made a lovely picture for this story. Thank you, Anna-Luna!
Author: Mirabile Dictu
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10,516
Summary: "You're only doing it because there's no dope in Atlantis."
For dear auburnnothenna.
neither death, nor exile, nor pain
"This place stinks," John said, rubbing his nose.
"Volatile organic compounds like hydrocarbons and nitrogen oxides that have reacted with sunlight," Rodney said. "Have you been here before, Teyla?"
"I have not. It is very unpleasant."
"Some kind of temperature inversion going on, too," Rodney added, holding a hand over his eyes as he gazed out at the city. "Like in LA or London."
"We gonna be okay?" John asked.
"For a short period, yes. But let's not spend much time here."
"Hello, gentle strangers!" someone shouted.
John and Ronon stepped forward, holding their weapons across their bodies. Teyla stood closer to Rodney, John saw from the corner of his eye. "Hi," he said.
"Welcome!" the stranger said. "I am Belgar. This is Urb Major!" He gestured to the city behind him. "Also known as Mirabilia Urbis, it is the largest and most beautiful city on this continent, and home to people from many planets."
Rodney said, "Oh, yes, sundown in the Paris of the prairies."
"Rodney!" John snapped.
"It is very nice," Teyla said. "Do you not fear the Wraith will be drawn to you?"
"Oh, no -- we do not use technology they find interesting, only devices we can hide or that pose no threat to them. You will be safe here."
"Not if we breathe this air for long," John heard Rodney mutter. The air smelled about like LA the last time he was there. He wondered if these people had health advisory alerts, or spare-the-air days. Then he noticed behind Belgar a knot of men wearing some kind of uniform.
"Belgar," he asked, "are we under arrest?"
"No, no! These men are just to see to my safety, not to injure you. Come, we will meet the governor of Urb Major now."
"We are hoping to develop trade agreements with you," Teyla said, studying the men.
"Yes, of course; that's why everyone comes through the gate. We have much to offer. The governor will explain."
John and Ronon exchanged glances; Ronon raised his eyebrows. "We are here to trade," he murmured.
"The city looks wealthy," Teyla pointed out.
"Rodney?" John asked, since Rodney was uncharacteristically quiet. He looked over his shoulder at his teammate.
Rodney shrugged. "I don't see that we have a choice. A city that size, with that skyline, and the poor air quality -- they definitely have something to offer. I'm just not confident that we have anything they'll be interested in."
"Yeah, it's weird being the poor cousin, isn't it?" John said. Rodney nodded, though Teyla looked a bit offended.
"We would like to meet the governor," John told Belgar, who bowed slightly, and clapped his hands. The other men, his guards, relaxed and stepped aside, and John followed Belgar as he led them away from the stargate and into the city.
The streets weren't paved with gold, but they were paved, with cobblestones set in complex patterns. There were sidewalks, too, full of people. Small motorized vehicles shared the streets with heavily-laden carts pulled by four-legged creatures that looked like yaks.
"What's that smell?" Rodney asked suddenly, hurrying to catch up with Belgar.
Belgar sniffed deeply. "Don't really smell anything," he said. "just the air. Maybe exhaust? We use a coal tar distillate for fuel and there is a distinctive odor to it, though, frankly, I don't often notice it."
"Just on bad days," one of the guards said.
"Oh, yes, occasionally we do have to advise children and the elderly to remain indoors," Belgar said, looking embarrassed. "But really, that's rare, and you mustn't worry. I take it your world doesn't have this level of technology?"
Before Rodney could say anything, John said, "No, though we've heard of it. Amazing. Really impressive."
"Impressive," Rodney muttered. John gave him a look, and he quieted.
"Not far," Belgar promised them, and he was right; within minutes, they were escorted up steep stone steps into an oversized lobby lined with pillars.
"City Hall?" John asked Belgar.
"Administration Center," he said. "Recently remodeled. We are subject to earthquakes and there was one a few years ago."
"Great," Rodney muttered, and this time John agreed with him. Great. "How often do these earthquakes take place?"
"Well, I'm told there are tiny ones all the time, but a big one only every few hundred years. We're safe now."
John really, really hoped so. He wondered if it would be okay to ask about casualties and decided no.
Belgar and the guards took them up another flight of stairs, around a corner, and into an office. "Please wait," a woman said, rising from her desk and disappearing.
After only two or three minutes, someone said, "Belgar!" A tall man followed the woman out from an interior office. "I see you discovered who activated the stargate."
"Yes, and they are interested in trade. This is our governor, Harol Urbis."
"Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," John said, "and this is my team."
"Welcome. Tea for our guests, Fela. Sit, sit. Now, what do you think of our beautiful city?"
"It is amazing," Teyla said, and John thought she was telling the truth. The Athosians had so little left after so many cullings. Urb Major was dirty, the air bad, but the streets were broad and the buildings taller than any he'd seen other than in this galaxy except those of Atlantis.
They settled around a heavy stone table, delicate cups of a fragrant tea in front of them. "Drink, my friends. We all need to soothe the pain of life, do we not? And tell me of your world. We are interested to learn of other worlds, how we can help them hide from the Wraith. Life is so hard." He sipped his tea.
John sipped, too, taken aback by the governor's words. He wasn't sure what to say nor what he had to offer. The tea was sweet, and smelled of lavender. He watched as Rodney sniffed it cautiously, then touched his tongue to it, glancing at John, who nodded reassuringly.
"This tea is lovely," Teyla said. "I hope we will find a way to trade with you for it."
"You do not grow yasmeen on your world? How do you suffer the pain of life?"
"Not easily," Rodney said. "It's very good stuff."
The governor leaned forward. "I am a busy man," he said, "but I represent a city in need. Is there any hope that you can offer us medical supplies?"
John looked at Rodney. "Ah, none of us is a doctor," Rodney said, putting down his cup, "but we do have excellent doctors on our world. Can you be more specific? We could take a, uh, a shopping list back with us, return with a doctor, maybe."
"That would be good news," the governor said. "I invite you and your doctor to return. We can offer you yasmeen, both the tea leaves and seeds so you may try to grown your own. We have an excess of coal tar, which can be used in combustion turbines. The Wraith pay little attention to such sources of energy." He shuddered.
"When did the Wraith last visit this planet?" Teyla asked.
"Six years ago," he said softly. "We hid beneath our homes. Stone is the very heart of this world, and it protected us. The gas and coal we produce are its breath and blood, and they protect us."
John didn't know how to respond; he stared into his almost-empty cup. "I'm sorry," he heard Rodney say.
"Thank you. We have all suffered, I'm sure. When did the Wraith last cull your people?"
Teyla said, "Less than two years ago."
They sat in silence for another moment, and then the governor said, "More tea, I think." Fela poured out more, including a cup for herself. "Making meaning from these experiences is difficult," the governor said when she reseated herself. "We have all lost family and friends to the Wraith. My own little girl --" He stopped abruptly, turning the cup between his hands.
"I am so sorry," Ronon said, surprising John. "My world was destroyed. We had cities, culture, industry. Gone, now. These people took me in. I serve Sheppard in recompense."
"You are not of him, then?"
"No."
"Yes," John said at the same time, moved and embarrassed by Ronon's words. "We were born on different worlds, but we're, uh, one now."
To John's surprise, Rodney was nodding. "Teyla's from a different world, too," he said. "But we all live together now. Hiding, I guess." He sipped his tea.
"We all must hide," the governor said. Fela whispered to him, and he finished his tea. "I am sorry, but I must return to work. I look forward to seeing you again soon. As a token of our interest, Belgar will arrange to have the tea brought to the stargate so you may take some with you. Belgar?"
"Of course," Belgar said, bowing slightly.
Everyone rose, though the room spun around a bit. "Whoa," John said, catching at the table. He stood for a moment, catching his balance. "You okay?" he asked the others.
"Bit light-headed," Rodney said. Ronon closed his eyes, and Teyla leaned against him.
"You feel the yasmeen," Belgar said. "It eases the pain, does it not? It lets you remember the loss without the pain."
"I don't know about that," John said, but it was true. He was remembering Afghanistan, the beautiful sunsets and the high snowy peaks. His parents, in a photo from their youth, still in love, with everything in front of them. Shooting Sumner, but the sense of relief that he wouldn't suffer more. Flying the nuclear bomb into the hive ship, to save the people he wished to protect. He remembered these things with an almost hallucinatory clarity, but Belgar was right; he no longer felt the pain that had accompanied them.
"Sit and wait here," Fela said. "This room will not be needed for a while. Belgar will wait with you."
"Yes, of course."
But John said, "No, no. We need to get back. Rodney, can you walk?"
Rodney's face was red, as were his eyes, but he nodded. "Yeah. Slowly, but I'll get there. Let's go."
They all were able to walk, though John trailed his hand along one wall as he followed Ronon and Teyla, its cool stone grounding him in the rush of memories. He felt full, and remembered that Rodney had called the sensation "light-headed." But it was more like being filled with helium, or trying to walk on a world with less gravity than he was accustomed to. He walked slowly and carefully and, when Rodney banged into him, hung onto Rodney's jacket. Ronon and Teyla were, he saw, holding hands.
By the time they reached the stargate, a woven bag and a metal canister were waiting for them, the seeds and the processed tea. He wasn't sure how he felt about the tea, but managed with Ronon's help to get the supplies into the jumper. "Rodney," he said, but Rodney was already dialing Atlantis.
"Goodbye! Goodbye!" Belgar called, and two of their guards waved at them. John felt idiotic, but he waved back.
"Bye!" Rodney shouted, and then half-fell into his usual seat. "Oh my God, I don't know -- that tea. I just." He sighed and looked at John.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's go home," he said to the jumper, and lights came on.
"Are they slower than usual?" Rodney asked, "or are we suffering some kind of time-dilation from the tea?"
"No idea," John said, just as Ronon said, "Teyla?"
"I wish to lie down," Teyla said. John and Rodney stood up so quickly they bumped heads; by the time they moved into the back, Ronon had Teyla lying on one of the benches, her head in his lap, her jacket spread across her. "I am fine," she reassured them. "Just a bit sad."
"Sad," Ronon said.
"Yeah," Rodney agreed, rubbing his head. "Not so sure that tea's the bargain the governor thought it was. Well, get us home, Colonel, so Carson can check us out, see if we're all going to die before dinner."
John shook his head. "Cheer up, McKay," he said. "At least we'll feel good when we go."
"Oh, deprive the city of my abilities and yet feel good. Right."
But it was just noise, John knew, and he tuned it out. The sound of Rodney's voice was enough to comfort him; he didn't need to know what Rodney was saying.
The minute they exited the puddlejumper, Carson said firmly, "All four of you are spending the night in the infirmary. We'll run tests on that tea, see what it does. Rodney, I'm amazed you even tried it."
"No citrus," he said, "and it tastes really good."
"How do you feel now?" Elizabeth asked them.
John shrugged. "Fine. It wore off before we got home."
"Good stuff," Ronon said. "Really did work."
"I am perhaps a bit sleepy," Teyla admitted. "But I would drink it again."
"Me, too," John said. "It -- I." He stopped to think. "It let me see things differently," he finally said. "The governor said it let you remember the loss without pain, and that's true."
"Is that healthy?" Carson wondered, shooing them toward the infirmary. "We should have Kate here," he told Elizabeth, who nodded. "But for now, some blood and urine work, and lots of fluids to flush the tea out of your system."
"Great. I'll be peeing all night," Rodney said.
After their examination and a hearty dinner, Elizabeth stopped by to talk with John. "Off the record," she said, "how are you?"
"Off or on, I'm fine. Really. It wore off quickly."
"Do you think this is a good thing?"
John rubbed the back of his neck. "I think you need to talk to Kate," he said at last. "But yeah. I could see things really clearly, stuff I'd forgotten or maybe repressed, if you believe in that. Things I really don't want to forget." He sighed. "Maybe this stuff shouldn't be served in the mess hall, but treated as a medicine. I'd probably drink it again."
She squeezed his arm and left him wondering how to write up this report.
John used the next few days to get caught up on his paperwork, in the various inventories, in some minor disciplinary action, in planning which worlds to visit next. He saw Rodney at meals, and then one night met him with some of the engineers to watch Jaws and eat too many handsful of a kind of fried nut that Lorne's team had discovered on one of their missions.
"They'd be better salted," Rodney said as they walked back to their quarters.
"I can hear Carson moaning about blood pressure," John said, "but yeah, that would be good. How's the desalinization project going, anyway?"
"Brilliantly. The naquadah generators really make short work of it, and we use the salt both here and for trade. Surprising, really, how many salt-poor worlds there are in this galaxy. Plus it's naturally high in iodine."
"So we won't be developing goiters any time soon."
Rodney nodded, pausing outside the door to John's quarters. "You try that tea again?" he asked.
"No, no. You?"
"No, though Ronon asked about it. He thinks we should do a ceremony or something."
"Ronon came to you about that?"
"Well, no, obviously not. He went to Zelenka and I overheard. They're friends," Rodney said, sounding almost insulted at the idea.
"So he told Radek about the tea? What did he say?"
"He said he used to get loaded a lot in college, and that he never would have made it through grad school without Dexedrine and dope."
John started to laugh. "I can see Radek on dex -- can you imagine his hair?"
Rodney laughed, too. "So that's what happened to it. I only tried marijuana once. I was such a freak, and just shut up, okay? Because I couldn't really use it. I mean, one try, that's not an adequate sample to derive a baseline, but I felt like I was going to roll right off the world."
"Now there's an image."
"Yeah. Not my drug of choice. Caffeine, now, and alcohol."
"So you stayed with the traditionals."
"Grass isn't traditional?"
John nodded. "Point taken."
"But that tea." Rodney shoved his hands into his pockets. "You know, I would try it again, here on Atlantis, knowing that quack was around to stick an IV into me if something happened."
"How can you insult Carson and yet rely on him?"
"Oh, like you don't. Would you try the tea again?"
John nodded. "I've been thinking about it. And yeah, in controlled circumstances, I would. I liked it. I saw --" He stopped. Rodney looked closely at him, raising his eyebrows curiously. "My folks," John finally said. "And other stuff. Bad stuff. You?"
"My parents, too," Rodney admitted. "And yeah, bad stuff. Except, you know, it didn't hurt. Didn't bring back bad memories. It just was. Like that moron Parrish is always saying: mindfulness practice."
"Parrish is not a moron," John said firmly; he heard good things about Parrish from Lorne.
"No, I know," Rodney said, surprising John. "But really. Mindfulness practice. I ask you."
"Well, he's a botanist, not a physicist," John offered.
"So true," Rodney said. "Well, night."
"Night." John watched Rodney continue down the corridor, and then called after him, "Hey. Seriously. Tea?"
Rodney turned and studied him, his usual sardonic expression on his face. "If you're up, I'm up," he finally said.
"Cool."
"You're only doing it because there's no dope in Atlantis."
"More fool you," John said, and stepped into his quarters before Rodney could say anything else. He actually didn't know for sure that there was dope in Atlantis, but he'd be willing to bet good money there was, either brought from Earth or grown in one of the many labs.
"Is there really marijuana here?" Rodney asked him at lunch the next day.
"Why? You wanna buy a lid?"
"No, I already told you I can't use it. I'm just curious. It makes sense there would be; I started thinking about it last night, and just because I don't use it, doesn't mean no one does. It's like booze. I know for a fact there are stills here. I have my theories who's responsible and where they are, but I don't want to investigate because what if Elizabeth asks me? I need plausible deniability. So I figure the same about grass."
"What?" John said. Rodney gave him a pained look. "Seriously, yeah, I feel the same way. I can't help but overhear some things, but I try not to know-know, you know?"
"I know." Rodney ate more of the fried fish thoughtfully. "I've never seen it, but did you know there's a kind of sauna-baths thing here?"
"No, you're kidding? In Atlantis?"
"Yeah. Being used by a bunch of people, if I understand what I'm hearing correctly, like more than half the base. No one's told us because they're afraid it'll be placed off limits, or restricted only to officers, some bullshit like that."
"Any idea where?"
Rodney grinned at him. "Colonel, between my knowledge of the Ancient's database and your ability to turn on anyone and anything, I bet we can find it."
"Cool," John said. "Tonight. I'll bring more of those fried nuts."
"Would if offend your sensibilities if I brought some hooch?"
"If by hooch you mean illicitly-brewed alcohol?"
"I do."
"That's -- okay, that'll work. Is it any good?"
"I like it. The kind I have is like cider, so not too strong."
"From one of the many stills that you know for a fact exist." He grinned at Rodney. "See you at seven. My quarters," John said, rising to bus his tray. It occurred to him he'd just made a date with Rodney McKay to drink illegal alcohol. Well, what the hell. Rodney had provided a constant stream of irritable but amusing background music to John's entire Atlantis experience, sort of John's personal Muzak of opinion, information, and complaints; he was used to it. He liked it.
But when Rodney bustled into John's quarters, carrying, John was happy to see, a frosty thermos, he said, "Found it, spent some time looking over the schematics and then the power readings, and it's obvious. If I'd had a minute of free time I would've noticed it earlier, but really, I can't be expected to notice, well, maybe I can, but I found it now. Here," he pushed John aside and sat at his little desk. "Boot up your computer and bring up the structural diagram of the city."
"Well, you're at my --" John tried to point out.
"Oh, yes, I see. Here. Pour us a glass; I'll do this." He opened John's laptop, which John thought was rude but also very Rodney. While Rodney launched Project, complaining bitterly about Bill Gates, Linus Torvalds, and Steve Jobs, John poured them the cider. "Here, me, too," Rodney said, snapping his fingers at John while continuing to poke at the keyboard with his other hand.
"No eating or drinking over the laptop," John warned. Rodney spared him a cool glance, but did push away from the desk a bit. John knew that Radek had layered plastic over Rodney's keyboard the second time he'd knocked or spit coffee into it; Rodney called it a computer condom but suffered it because, John thought, it gave him more to complain about.
"Okay, look. Hey, this is good chilled." He beamed at John.
"It is pretty tasty."
"It's blended with apple juice, and don't ask me how I know that, because you're as close to a police force as Atlantis has."
"Unless some problem arises, I'm not gonna pursue this, Rodney."
"Good, I didn't think so. Besides, I don't really know; no one will tell me anything and I don't have time to investigate it. Now what about the baths? Are you, ah, cool with them, too?" He blocked John's view of the monitor, waiting.
"Is it diverting significant power? How much time are people spending there when they should be working? Have we lost any resources because of it? Any behavior problems?"
Rodney shook his head. "I, uh, actually talked to a few people about it once I found it. Radek and I also went over the logs. If anything, I'd say people's performance has improved and their productivity increased. I also hacked into your logs --"
"Hey!" John interrupted. "We've discussed this before, Rodney."
"I know, and I restricted my search this time to look only for problems arising from the use of the baths, like when they were being used and immediately afterwards. If anything, there are fewer reports of behavioral problems."
John nodded his head. "So it's an escape valve, a way to burn off energy."
"I think so. Radek does, too. Radek told me about the place in Antarctica. I never knew," and John saw that Rodney was blushing in the light of the monitor. "You probably did, but the baths down there? Radek told me almost everyone went, even the higher echelons. All rank was meaningless, he said, but of course he would; he respects military regulations just as much as I do, which is to say not at all."
"I went to those baths, Rodney. Yeah, they were great, but I did see some problems there. Too much drinking --"
"Which you will admit was the norm for Antarctica."
"Well, there were some problems, but the people who went took care of them."
"A private police force."
John shrugged. "I preferred to think of it as Southern hemisphere hospitality."
Rodney lifted one shoulder. "I'll trust you on that."
"Why didn't you go, Rodney? I had some great times there."
"Nobody ever told me about it. I'd heard rumors, of course, and read some stuff on the internet, but I figured if I wasn't invited, I wasn't going to just show up."
"Unlike here." But the look on Rodney's face made John sorry he'd said that. "It's different here," he added quickly.
"Is it? I know I'm not, I mean, you've often pointed out that I'm lacking in certain social skills. But I thought if you were with me . . ."
"Rodney. It's okay. I want to go. And I want to go with you. Here, drink up." He put the cup back into Rodney's hand and gently clinked his cup against it. "To secret saunas and underground baths."
"To the demi-monde," Rodney said, and they drank. "Okay. Let's go when there's no one else there; no need to embarrass our subordinates."
"And when would that be?"
"Well, I charted out things like who's on and off duty, power fluctuations, and without scanning directly, it looks to me as though it would be around three am."
"Can you scan that part of the city?"
"I can now," Rodney said, tapping at the keyboard with one hand again. John took away his nearly empty cup. "Okay, I've routed the results to me; they'll be automatically charted. In a week or so, I'll be able to give you more precise information."
"Then we'll go," John decided.
"I thought you might want to go first, by yourself, when others were around," Rodney said. "You could be more discreet, and see if there were any problems."
"You mean go in my official capacity?" Rodney nodded. "Look, Rodney, I get that you didn't go in Antarctica, but the point was there was no official capacity. When you're naked in hot water, no one's rank means shit."
"Naked? Wait, so you're not worried that it'll cause problems if we're there and others see us?"
"See you naked? McKay, I hate to tell you, but --"
"Shut up, you know I didn't mean that. I meant it will, ah, change the social dynamics."
"It'll be okay. And yeah, I can go. Hell, we can go right now if you want. I just thought you wanted to go alone with me."
"What, like a date? Were you -- did you think?" Rodney stared at John, then licked his lips. "You thought I was asking you to come with me alone for a reason? And you agreed, you totally agreed."
John wanted to play confused, or stupid, but he understood exactly what Rodney was saying. "Look. I didn't really think this through. I understand that you're concerned, and can I say that I didn't expect you to be this sensitive? That you're concerned your presence will in some way, uh, diminish the quality of the experience for others. But Rodney, I mean, yeah, if you barged in telling people what to do, or to get out, it would be shitty. But you're not going to, right? You're going to sit in the water, play a little, pass the bottle around, whatever. You're going to fit in, right?"
Rodney scratched his nose and rolled his shoulders; John had known him long enough to recognize these as ways to postpone responding. "Rodney?"
"Fit in, right," Rodney muttered. "Look, Colonel --"
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Rodney. Why can't you call me John? It's not that difficult to pronounce, even for a Canadian who can't say zee."
As John had hoped, Rodney glared at him. "Okay, John, here's the deal, and I'm going to be even more brutally honest that I usually am. People tend not to like me. Even though you never worked at Area 51 or SGC, you must have figured this out or heard about it from the military who did. And even though you were brought into the Stargate Program literally at the last minute, you were at Antarctica while I was. You knew about the baths there and I didn't. You've taken me to task about my behavior here in Atlantis. You already know what I'm trying not to say. I just, it just doesn't naturally occur to me to think that I might be, you know, welcome. Anywhere."
"Jesus, Rodney. Yes, you can be a huge pain in the ass. And frankly, your insecurity is annoying." John kept talking over Rodney's protest at the word insecurity. "But you've saved literally everybody in this city time and time again. You have friends on a dozen planets. You had a kid named after you on M76-677, for God's sake. I'm trying to say that yes, you just might be welcome in Atlantis. If you'd, you know, shut up once in a while." Rodney stared up at him, then rose and walked out of John's quarters. "Rodney? Rodney, Goddammit."
Rodney turned in the corridor to look back at John. "I don't mean to be rude," he said, drawing himself up, "but that's a lot of information even for me to absorb all at once." He looked at John as if he'd never seen him before. "Thank you, Colonel. Uh, John. It's late. We'll talk again when I've collected some data."
"Okay." John stood in the hallway and watched Rodney walk away.
John didn't ask Rodney about the baths when they next met, at a department head meeting, where Rodney seemed like his old self: he talked too much and too fast as they planned upcoming trade missions, re-deployed personnel on new projects, and tried to formulate a more comprehensive project management plan. But about ten days later, he saw Rodney standing hesitantly in the entrance to the mess hall, looking around. John waved, and Rodney hurried toward where he sat eating lunch. "Not hungry?" John asked, surprised he hadn't stopped to fill a tray.
"Don't be ridiculous; of course I am. But I have some results about the --" he glanced around the room and dropped his voice -- "about the baths."
"Cool." John took another spoonful of the soup. "Grab something to eat and let's talk."
"Here?"
John just gave him a look, the one he was working on to silence Rodney, who gave him his own look in return, but said, "Hey, that soup looks good."
Though Rodney insisted on sitting right next to John and whispering -- "You don't think this is suspicious behavior?" -- John enjoyed it, enjoyed his ideas.
"Look, it graphs out to around three am that the baths are almost empty. No guarantee, of course, but from what you said, you don't think it matters much anyway."
"I don't. I'm only catering to your paranoia."
"Really? I didn't think it was paranoia."
"Rodney. It's okay. We can go this minute if you want. But three am. What day? What's my schedule?"
"Call it up on my tablet. Hey, don't smudge it."
"You're a fine one to be talking about smudging it. I can tell just looking at it what you had for breakfast two days ago."
"That's ridiculous, I'm not, okay, shit, wipe that off the keyboard, okay?"
"Let's just go tonight. I'll get you. Around oh-two-thirty."
Rodney froze. "Really?"
"Yeah, really. That's the point, right? To go see?"
"Yeah. I just never thought -- you know, you can be a very surprising person, Colonel."
"Well, you can be a very annoying person, Doctor, so I'd say we're even." John finished his soup and stood up. "Unless there's an emergency, see you tonight."
"Technically, tomorrow morning."
There was an emergency, of course, John told himself while he prepped to pilot a jumper to MA5-393, where a Beta site was being built. He hated that place; it was too hot and he wasn't convinced building a Beta site was a good use of their resources, but both Rodney and Elizabeth did, and he trusted their judgment. "Carson? You ready?"
"As I'll ever be," he said. John saw that Carson was already sweating and they were still in Atlantis.
"You drinking your fluids?"
"If I drink any more, you'll have to stop the jumper somewhere to let me pee before we get there," he said.
"Radek?"
"Ready, Colonel. And I too will need to stop shortly."
"All right, I'll schedule a potty break en route." He tapped on his headset. "Elizabeth, we're ready." Ronon and Teyla were already waiting in the jumper, and Rodney had powered it up for him, moving to the passenger seat as John boarded. By the time he was seated, the gate was open and within an hour they were on MA5-393, sweating bullets, while Rodney and Radek worked on Lorne's jumper and he and Beckett made sure the team that had been stranded there were healthy.
"Just another day in the Pegasus Galaxy," Rodney said to him when they were back in Atlantis stripping for showers, their clothes saturated with sweat and salt.
"Colonel, I've been talking to Dr. Zelenka, and he thinks he could show me how to diagnose shit like what happened today," Lorne called to them.
"Good idea. Rodney, you okay with that idea?"
"Anything that will keep us from wasting time out of the labs is a good idea," he said gruffly, but John saw him nod at Radek. From Rodney that was practically a meritorious service medal.
"It's a go, then," John said, and headed into a cold shower, yelping with pleasure.
At oh-two-twenty, he stood outside Rodney's quarters, resting his hand on the door and thinking wake up, Rodney. The door slid open, revealing in the dim light Rodney sitting on the side of his bed, eyes nearly glued together in sleep. "I guess I should have checked earlier, seen if you still wanna go," John said.
"Of course I do," Rodney said, scratching his chest through his tee shirt. "Oh my God, I'm sleepy. Let me uh --" he gestured toward the bathroom.
"Yeah, I'll wait. I brought --" he lifted the thermos. "For in the baths."
"Brilliant. Although if I can get up tomorrow, it'll be a miracle."
"Weir gave us the day off, remember?"
"Oh, like that stops emergencies from cropping up," Rodney said, but he sounded more awake and finally stood up. "Come in, don't loiter in the corridor, what if someone sees you? You have no sense of self-preservation, do you."
He continued to mutter as he went into the bathroom, but John ignored him. He pulled out the tiny joint from his pocket and looked around. "You got matches? A lighter?" he called.
"What the hell for? You gonna burn candles? In the drawer in my desk, right-hand side." The right-hand side drawer was clearly Rodney's junk drawer, but after poking around John found a box of Diamond matches, then slid them open. "What do you need matches for?" Rodney asked, startling John. He was buttoning his trousers, a battered pair of khakis with paint stains on the knees that John recognized.
"That's from when we named the puddlejumpers," John said, gesturing.
"Yeah." Rodney looked at his knees. "That was fun. I still can't believe Elizabeth let us."
"Well, we did have to get her approval for the names, and then paint them where no one could see them," John pointed out.
"Still. That's more than the SGC would have done. Are you smoking a joint?"
John took a deep hit and held out the joint to Rodney, who took it cautiously. "I told you that I had a bad experience with this."
"That was Earth marijuana. This is from the Pegasus Galaxy. It's not a cannabinoid. Similar effects, I grant you, but entirely different chemistry."
Rodney took the joint and stared at it, then at John. "You're telling me that you've smoked this before? How did you even hear about it? Aren't you supposed to, you know, court martial people or something when you catch them?"
"Look, Rodney," John said, feeling awkward and embarrassed. "We're a long way from Earth. This stuff doesn't even exist on Earth, so there can't be a law against it. I figure it's like alcohol: under certain conditions, closely monitored, it really helps. Especially this stuff." He reached out to take back the joint, but Rodney jerked away, put it in his mouth, and inhaled noisily. "Hold it," John warned him, which Rodney did, glaring at him as he handed it back.
"If I get crazy," he warned when he finally exhaled.
"Crazier," John said, taking another hit. "And if you do, I'll take care of you. Look, Rodney, this is to have some fun, you know? Fun?" He tamped out the joint and slid it back into his pocket. "You still wanna go?"
Rodney studied him carefully, crossing his arms and even tilting his head a bit. "You're an interesting man, Colonel." He smiled. "I might be feeling the effect. What's it called?"
"Dope. The Marines call it dope."
They left Rodney's quarters and started their long walk to the baths. "So I'm to understand you just walked up to one of the grunts --"
"Don't call them that, Rodney."
"To one of your Marines and said, hey, can I buy a number off you?"
"No, of course not. I know I'm a lousy officer --"
"Shut up. You are not a lousy officer; you're one of the few military people I have ever respected."
"Hey. Thank you. Uh, well, so I actually went to one of your scientists --"
"No! I can't believe it. Except -- it's Parrish, right? Totally got to be Parrish."
"Shut up, Rodney. I'm not going to tell you who I got it from. The point is it's not cannabis, it's grown here in Atlantis, and I keep a close eye on its use and distribution. If you think I'm out of line, tell me and we can discuss it. I'm willing to admit this might not be the wisest decision . . ."
"No, actually I think it's a good one. In Siberia? Vodka stills everywhere, and in Antarctica, people smuggled dope in in everything; if they'd been that creative in their work, we'd be years ahead of where we are. Hey, how far is this place?"
"Well, if it is this place, we've got two more transporter rides, and then another hike. Maybe fifteen minutes."
"Oh my God." Rodney stopped. "I'm coming on to the drug."
"You mean it's coming on to you."
"Whatever. My head -- am I sweating? I'm sweating. I'm high, aren't I. Are my pupils dilated?" He opened his eyes very wide.
John started to laugh. "You are the worst stoner in the galaxy, Rodney. No, your pupils aren't dilated, and you're not sweating; it's just been a hike."
"Are you stoned?"
"Just a little. It's a really mellow high, very slow to come onto. Actually makes me sleepy."
"So not manic."
"Well, there is such a thing as a paradoxical reaction to a drug."
"Oh, thank you so much. Just what I needed to hear."
"Do you want to go back, wake up Carson?"
They walked a few more steps, and then Rodney said, "No. Actually," and he grinned at John, "I don't remember the last time I felt this good."
"If you start giggling . . ."
They grinned at each other, and John made a sound he realized could be misinterpreted as a giggle.
Rodney pointed ahead of them. "Hey, are the lights dimmer here, or is that another side effect?"
John paused and looked around. "They are a little dimmer. We should have brought a laptop so you could check power fluctuations."
"Well, I thought we'd be in water and laptops, as I know from personal experience, don't like water."
John wasn't sure how to respond to Rodney's allusion to when his jumper sank, so he just nodded. The lights were definitely getting dimmer the farther they hiked through the long winding corridors. "This city is so big," he finally said, speaking softly. Rodney nodded.
"Enormous, and still mostly unexplored, other than with sensors. If only things weren't so dire; we really should be exploring it."
"I think we'll start," John said. "I'll talk to Elizabeth, because who knows what resources might be here that we don't know about. Digging through the Ancient's database isn't the only way to make these discoveries."
"Do you know how the baths were found? Was it the linguists? I bet it was; those social scientists know my feelings about them. They'd never tell me."
"You are paranoid."
"No, this is my default setting, Colonel. You know that."
John patted Rodney's arm, in comfort but also to draw his attention. "Look," he pointed ahead. The lights were almost completely out, just an occasional glow.
"This is the way," Rodney whispered. "It's still a bit of a hike. I really need to analyze power usage more thoroughly, section by section, rather than overall."
They walked more, the air getting warmer and more humid. "Rodney," John whispered, slowing. "I'm baked."
Rodney laughed, putting his hand on his head. "Me, too," he said, and they both laughed. "Oh my God, I'm stoned. Stoned in Atlantis. Sounds like a band. No, like a CD title."
"Listen," John murmured. They paused to listen; John could hear a regular thumping, and what might be distant voices. They continued into the darkened hallways, which got darker and darker. As they turned into an even darker corridor, the thump of a bass became clearer.
"That's the Dandy Warhols," Rodney said.
"Not Stoned in Atlantis?" he joked. "Hey, we could dance to it." What the hell were they going to find when they finally reached the baths?
"I can't see anything," Rodney whispered. "Can you see anything?"
Before John could answer, Radek's voice surprised them both. "Ah, Rodney! We've been expecting you for weeks. And with John."
"Radek? What the hell? Whoa." John grabbed Rodney's arm; the corridor was wet and slippery.
"Water, water everywhere," Radek said. They still couldn't see anyone, but the heat and humidity had risen even more dramatically; John was literally dripping. "Come, come. Yes, keep walking toward our voices and the music."
They followed the bass line, Radek's voice, and a faint blue glow, the water getting deeper until John's running shoes were soaked. Rodney clutched at him as he skidded along, muttering under his breath. Suddenly there was Radek's silhouette in a wide door. Beyond him, John could see nothing but a luminous blue, the color of the Antarctic winter sky. The noise pounded into his entire body; he felt as though he could feel the music in his chest.
"You wore clothes?" Radek shouted, reaching out to hold them. "They will be so wet. Ah, hm. What to do. No hooks, no place to hang them -- just leave them on top of your shoes."
"What, naked?" Rodney hissed, but John had already bumped into Radek's hairy chest.
"Just strip, Rodney," he said, pulling off his tee shirt, kicking off his sodden shoes. He heard more than saw Rodney do the same. He set his shoes together, and then piled his clothes on top of them, making sure his tee shirt was on top in the hope it wouldn't get too wet. He could wear it and his briefs back. Rodney, he knew, was probably tossing his clothes everywhere. "Remember, you have to find them later," he whispered. Rodney swore and began flailing around, his hand landing on John's hip.
"Sorry, sorry," he babbled, and Radek laughed.
"Go," he said, pushing at John and Rodney. The water deepened but there was no edge like in a pool; the water just rose higher and higher. It was warm, and seemed to be circulating. Rodney was still clinging to John and whispering something nervously.
"Rodney, chill," he whispered.
"Oh, easy for you to say, you're military, you're an athlete, you're used to being naked with a bunch of people who could kill you."
"For God's sake," John said, putting his arm around Rodney. "No more of that dope; you really are more paranoid than usual." With his other arm, he patted the air until he found Rodney's head and leaned forward to whisper, "I swear to you, Rodney, that nobody wants to kill you. And if by some freak chance someone makes an attempt? They'll have to go through me."
"Thank you," Rodney sighed. They were waist deep in the warm bubbling water now. John's eyes had begun to adjust to what little light there was but he still could see only blobs instead of individuals, and unless someone spoke, and loud enough to be heard over the music, he hadn't recognized anyone but Radek. Who the hell was here? Rodney was clinging to him like a limpet, which was so open to misinterpretation, but right now, he didn't care. He just wanted to sink into the water and relax.
"Oh, the hooch," he said suddenly. He'd forgotten the thermos back in Rodney's quarters.
"We have it, John," Radek said. "It will reach you soon. Sit, listen, meditate."
Meditate? In this racket? But John pulled Rodney down and back, squeezing between other naked bodies; the one next to John hairier than Radek. Rodney yelped. "What?" he tried to whisper into Rodney's ear, but Rodney turned and knocked into his nose.
"Tits," he hissed. "I accidentally touched someone's breast."
"Oh, for -- Rodney, I know even you have touched tits before." Thank God the music was so loud, John thought as soon as he said that. Jesus. Who was in the room? Was Carson here? Surely not; he was so shy, and such a mama's boy. But maybe Cadman had got him here; John could imagine her in this massive hot tub.
The water moved faster around them; someone must have rigged some kind of pump to spin it so quickly. The air was thick with humidity and seemed to sparkle; maybe droplets of water catching what little light there was, or maybe John was hallucinating. Then the man next to him pushed a plastic bottle in his hand, like a water bottle, but when he lifted it to his mouth, he smelt alcohol. He took an enormous mouthful, choking only a little, and passed to carefully to Rodney.
"Oh my God, they're going to poison me."
The music changed to something instrumental but still pounding, a little faster; John thought his heart was speeding up to match the rhythm. He could also see better; his eyes had fully adjusted and his acuity had returned. He had excellent night vision, due, a doctor he had briefly dated had told him, to the arrangement of cones on his retina. Whatever the reason, he could see that the guy next to him, chugging on another water bottle filled with hooch, was Captain Parker, and that the woman next to Rodney was Lieutenant Crown, and Rodney was right, she did have big tits. Funny how they floated near the top of the water, and they did not look that big under her uniform. Not that he'd ever really looked.
"You're staring," Rodney whispered, poking his arm.
"Tits," John said directly into his ear, trying not to laugh, just as the music changed again, louder and faster.
"You're loaded."
Parker passed John the bottle again, and this time he took two big gulps. People were swaying with the music; you really could dance to it. Rodney drank deeply and passed the bottle to Crown, reaching carefully above and around her breasts. "Have you seen Schoenmaker?" John asked, still speaking directly into Rodney's ear. He gestured further to Rodney's right.
"Bets Schoemaker? Oh my God." They both stared at Bets, a robust middle-aged woman who'd stood to finish the plastic bottle. She tossed it away and started to dance in time to the music, her large breasts bouncing as she turned in a circle. In the near-dark, with a deep blue glow rising up from the water, she was beautiful. There was some kind of strobe effect, maybe due to the water spinning and sloshing. Others began to rise and dance, alone, in couples. "That's, that's," Rodney said, his mouth open. "I don't know what that is."
"That's nasty," John said, but he was moving, too. He didn't think anyone could sit still to this beat. He was a bit drunk as well; whatever was in the plastic bottles being circulated was powerful shit. "Come on," he said to Rodney, and yanked him up. The weird blue light, the warm sloshing water, the buzz from the alcohol and the dope, the press of so many naked bodies against him pushed him into some kind of hyper-aware state; he felt voluptuous and profoundly conscious of the carnality of his body, of all the bodies moving around him, brushing past him, pressing against him.
Everyone was dancing now, splashing in the water, bouncing off each other, embracing, spinning, jumping. John was sweating, breathing hard, and he couldn't help but lean into Rodney's sturdy body as they moved in a kind of line dance-lap dance-whirling Dervish motion, knocking into others. He was surrounded by warm naked bodies, rubbing against him, bumping into him, grabbing at his hands and arms and hips and ass. He was more than aroused; it felt like his whole body was engorged, not just his dick, which bobbed in the water as he surged along with the others. Rodney was dancing, too, looking just as awkward as John would have guessed, had he ever had occasion to imagine Rodney dancing nude in an enormous dark hot tub.
He was filled with affection for his teammate and friend. Rodney was such a pain in the ass, but he was smart and funny, and he and John had clicked in a way John hadn't with anyone in years. Decades, maybe. "I'm so fucking loaded," he shouted, but no one could hear him over the music but Rodney, and Rodney was loaded, too.
Someone crashed into John, who crashed into Rodney, who caught him and held him upright. "It's that fucking Parrish, the guy who sold you the dope," he shouted into John's ear.
"Wasn't Parrish!" John shouted back, but he hung onto Rodney, and they danced together. He draped his arms over Rodney's shoulders and Rodney put his hands on John's hips, and then their dicks knocked against each other, which felt so good that John pulled Rodney closer. They groaned in unison. "Fuck," Rodney whispered; John couldn't hear him, but he saw his mouth, that big, noisy, sexy mouth moving in the weird strobing blue light that sparkled, so he kissed Rodney, feeling drunk and drugged and incredibly turned on.
Rodney kissed him back, fiercely pulling John against him, so they shimmied in time to the music, rubbing off against each other while others danced around them, pushing against them. Someone kissed the back of John's neck, and he felt hands wind around him and Rodney, rubbing his back and shoulders and then someone's knee pressed into his ass, and he thought he was floating in space, only it was hot and sexy and he couldn't believe he'd never done this before, clearly human beings were made to pile together in warm, wet, sensual mounds of flesh and mouths and hands and dicks and assholes. Kissing Rodney, kissing him with all he had, holding Rodney's head firmly, telling him with his lips and tongue how much he wanted him, how long he'd wanted him, while everyone in Atlantis stroked and caressed and fondled and felt his body, and then he was coming, gasping into Rodney's mouth, pumping against his hip, biting his shoulder, and Rodney came on him, his semen thick and hot even in the hot water.
John could barely breathe; he rested his head against Rodney's shoulder, still clinging to him, panting, a little embarrassed but mostly relieved this was done. Now Rodney knew. When he finally raised his head, Rodney was watching him closely, his face red from the heat, dripping with sweat and splashed water, his eyes almost glowing in the weird light. "I didn't know you liked the Scissors Sisters that much," Rodney finally shouted, and they started dancing again, John laughing.
Who the fuck were the Scissors Sisters?
They danced for hours, touching each other in the most intimate ways, watching each other, kissing, handling each other's bodies with confidence. John couldn't stop from noticing the others, doing the same and more, combining in the most unlike subsets of the population: civilian and military, military and military, men and women and men in couples and triples and dancing spinning fucking groups sending splashes of water high into the air. The music kept getting louder and faster, into some kind of weird, skippy, Indian-sounding dance music that kept him moving, colliding into Rodney, the two of them colliding into others dancing just as fiercely as they were.
The music started to slow eventually, and John discovered he was slow dancing with Rodney McKay. Not something he would have anticipated, but then, he never dreamt he'd have public sex with him, either. Rodney looked more than half asleep, his head flopping as he danced, moving in John's arms, his eyes hidden, his hair slicked down and back. "Better'n Sam," he said, kissing John. "You're just so much better." John figured he meant Sam Carter, Lieutenant Colonel Carter, and he felt his dick perk up at the thought that Rodney thought he was better than she, though at what John wasn't sure.
The music finally died away, and there was only the sound of the water splashing, and people breathing deeply. "Time to go," Rodney said, opening his eyes.
"Yeah, before we all turn into pumpkins." He pushed his dick against Rodney's thigh, running his hands down Rodney's body. "What's gonna happen next?"
"Bed," Rodney said firmly. "We have the day off, right? I'm taking it off in your bed."
"Mine? Why mine?"
"No one will look for me there, and it's closer to this place and farther from the lab." They broke apart, John turning to figure out where the entrance was. "This way," Rodney said, tugging on his hand, and they followed the others up the ramp out of the water and into the corridor. Their clothes were somewhere, John knew, and tried to remember where.
"Here, John," he heard Radek say, his voice raspy from singing and shouting. John couldn't see anything in the dark corridor, but felt his wet clothes pressed into his arms.
The others were leaving, too, slouching together, he could feel, but still not see. When they did reach the lighted section of the corridor, he kept his eyes down, looking at his feet as he waded through the warm water, and once at Rodney, who smiled at him, his face puffy from lack of sleep. He handed Rodney a tee shirt; together they juggled the clothes while they pulled on tees and briefs before continuing into the better lighted way. John started to recognize some of the others; they looked so different dripping in the white light of the hallway.
They squelched on, not touching now, but John was painfully aware of Rodney's body so near his own. The closer they drew to his quarters, the more he wondered what this would mean -- what about the men who served under him who'd been in there? While spinning and fucking and drinking, he'd felt safe and protected, loved, even, but now he felt dangerously exposed.
When they reached the nearest transporter, John found himself looking straight into Lieutenant Crown's face. "Sir," she said, as if she hadn't just seen him with Rodney, as if they weren't standing in their own puddle.
"Lieutenant," he replied, pressing the map so the transporter would return them.
"Glad you could join us," she continued, looking him in the eyes. "It's a good thing, that place."
He felt the others listening to their exchange and for a moment froze, not knowing what to say. Then Rodney poked him in the kidney, and he smiled. "It is a good place. Different."
"Well, we're not on Earth anymore," Crown said with a small smile.
"No, you're kidding," Rodney said, and everyone heaved a sigh of relief, including John. "Earth is in another galaxy, and inhabited by intellectual morons and emotional midgets. This is, like, I don't know. Like a physicist's heaven."
"Space vampires are part of a physicist's heaven?" someone said, and John laughed along with everyone else, including Rodney.
"Well, yes, there is that small inconvenience. But we'll figure it out," he said, and rested his hand on John's waist. "You might have noticed we have some smart people here."
"Pretty damn smart," John agreed, and then the transporter opened and they filed out, heading toward the transporters that would take them to their own sections.
"Rodney," Radek called, pausing and dripping. "See you soon?"
"In the lab? Yes, later today or tomorrow. In the baths? How often . . ."
"Every night, Doc," Crown said. "Not everybody goes every night, but there's always someone there."
"And the music? I'd like to contribute to the library. I have some small musical ability myself."
"Oh, hey, me, too," John said quickly.
"Just email me the navigation to it on the server," said Parker. "Me and Thompson program that."
"You code?" Rodney said sharply. "Why didn't I know this? Report to my lab tomorrow, Captain, and bring this Thompson person. We need to talk."
Parker looked at John, who shrugged. "You heard the man," he said. "Tell Lorne I said it was okay."
"Yes, of course it's okay, we need more code monkeys."
"Rodney," Radek said in a warning voice. "We need programmers."
"Yes, yes, you're right. Sorry, Captain. But come see me. There might be some work for you."
"Yes, sir," Parker said, looking wide-eyed at the thought.
John smiled. "Welcome to my world, Captain."
"Oh, like you don't love it," Rodney said, and he definitely sounded like himself again. "Come on, I'm exhausted and thirsty and want about a dozen paracetamol before my headache kicks in." He tugged at John's damp tee shirt and everyone started moving again.
Another transporter ride and more walking along deserted hallways, and then finally they stood in front of John's quarters, the door sliding open in welcome. Rodney hesitated before he entered. "I kind of invited myself over," he pointed out.
"Stop dripping," John said, pulling off the tee shirt and tossing it into the sink in his bathroom.
"I suppose discretion as the better part of valor is no longer possible," Rodney said as he walked into the room. The door slid shut behind him and the lights dimmed.
"You said you wanted bed," John said. He was starting to feel nervous again. "You specifically said my bed."
"I do. Jesus, how can you not know that now, after everything?"
"Well."
They stood looking at each other, and then Rodney started undressing, throwing his clothes into the bathroom. "We're going to trip over those things and kill ourselves."
"I'll risk it," John said. His heart was pounding again, almost as hard as it had been when they'd been at the height of the dance, spinning in the hot water, surrounded by friends and co-workers. "I'll risk this, if you will."
"Thank God," Rodney said. He stood for a moment, naked, the air cool enough to draw his skin into goosebumps, and then passed John to pull back the sheets on the small bed. "It'll be crowded but you should know I'm a snuggler. I hope that's okay." He climbed into the bed and looked at John, who watched him swallow.
"You are so fucking brave," John finally said, and climbed in next to him. The lights went out except for a pale blue line where the walls met the ceiling. John hadn't ever seen that before; he wondered if Rodney's presence had triggered it. The light was pretty, and almost exactly the same color as the water they'd danced in. He looked down at Rodney for a moment before lying next to him, putting his arm across Rodney's chest. "So brave."
"If I am," Rodney whispered, "I'm brave only for you." He stretched his neck enough to kiss John, who rolled on top of him, getting twisted in the top sheet, and kissed him back. "For you," Rodney said again, later, just before they fell asleep. "I do these idiotic things for you."
John smiled to himself and closed his eyes. Then he remembered something. "Hey. We never tried the tea."
"Oh, please," Rodney groaned. "I was half asleep. We'll try that another time. One bizarre experience at a time, okay?"
"Okay," John whispered. "Go to sleep."
"Besides," Rodney said, his voice barely audible, "being with you like this eases the pain just fine."
"Just fine," John echoed. Rodney was right. Being crammed together in a too-small bed, knowing how Rodney felt now, and what Rodney wanted, eased the pain better than the tea ever had. He'd stay here for a while. They could try the tea another time.
Beta by princessofg and auburnnothenna, with the patience of angels. Title from Epictetus.
21 April, 2006: anna_luna made a lovely picture for this story. Thank you, Anna-Luna!