When I Sorrow Most - part 2
'When I Sorrow Most' part 1 is here.
When I Sorrow Most
Part Two
Three Months Earlier
John’s attention was focused primarily on Rodney, rather than the action taking place on the small screen in front of them. During the course of the last hour, Rodney had managed to slide increasingly further down and he was now lying almost horizontally, listing dangerously to the right with his legs splayed out in front of him and his head scant inches from John’s left hip. And, as endearing as Rodney might look in his sleep, John knew that he’d be a right pain in the ass once he awoke and started bitching about the state of his back. The question was, how best to wake him?
He heard a movement from across the way and looked over to see Ronon grinning at him with a wicked gleam in his eyes. As John watched, Ronon slowly balled up a piece of paper from the pad on John’s desk and threw it towards Rodney. It hit Rodney square on the nose, making him flail briefly in his sleep, but not fully awaken. Trying to restrain his laughter, John aimed a mock scowl over at Ronon before looking over at Teyla to whisper, “Sort him out, would you? He’s gonna cost me my jumper repair if he’s not careful.”
But Teyla, as it turned out, was not much help. Looking decidedly mischievous herself, she pulled a pin out from her hair, shaking it loose and letting it cascade freely down her back. Having done that, she turned towards the bed and, very quickly, ran the tip of the hair pin up the sole of Rodney's sock covered foot.
“Wha-,” Rodney said, jerking upright suddenly, his arms flying and managing to almost hit John in the face with his right hand as he did so.
“Hey, watch it there, buddy,” John complained, capturing Rodney's still flailing hand with both of his. “I'm nothing but an innocent bystander here.”
Rodney turned to blink at him in a dazed fashion, sleep obviously still fogging his mind. “Huh?” he asked, looking down at where John was holding his hand and then back up into John's face, his confusion at the situation evident.
John squeezed his hand once before releasing it, noting as he did so the slight dilation of Rodney's pupils and the pink tinge that bloomed across his cheeks. He filed that bit of information away, interested that Rodney's body seemed not entirely unaffected by his touch.
Rodney blinked again, awareness slowly starting to sharpen his gaze. He shook his head, turning to look at Teyla and Ronon before glancing back at John. “Innocent, you?” he snorted. “Please, I'm not buying that for a minute, Colonel.” His eyes narrowed as he waved a hand and cast another accusing glare in Teyla and Ronon's direction. “And don't either of you think that you're beyond suspicion either.”
“We were merely trying to wake you as the position you were in was likely to cause you pain,” Teyla replied, her eyes alight with amusement.
“Cause us pain with his complaining more like,” Ronon mumbled none too quietly, only to receive a sharp stab in the side with Teyla's hairpin. He glared at her, but she merely raised an eyebrow at him in response.
“Hmm, very thoughtful of you all, I'm sure,” Rodney replied, but he still sounded slightly suspicious. He arched his back, resting his hands on the hollow of his lower back and groaning softly as he stretched out the kinks.
“You okay?” John asked, a little concerned despite knowing that Rodney had a tendency to blow small, inconsequential things out of all proportion.
Rodney was still rubbing his lower back and wincing, but then he relaxed back down beside John with a sigh. “Yes, it's not been too bad recently,” he said.
At Rodney's words, Teyla looked up and smiled at him. “The techniques are truly working then, Rodney?” she asked.
“Yes,” Rodney replied. “As much as I would like to put the effect down to mere a placebo, I have to admit that I am having much less trouble.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Teyla said. “I have been showing Rodney some of the relaxation positions and breathing techniques that many bantos masters have found helpful for relieving tension in their backs,” she explained to John.
“Oh, that's good,” John said, surprised but pleased to hear that Rodney and Teyla were spending some of their free time together.
“So, the episode's over then,” Rodney said, gesturing towards the screen.
“'fraid so, buddy. But don't worry, they managed to save the day,” John replied.
“Yes, and I should be going,” Teyla added, rising gracefully to her feet and smiling at John. “Thank you for a pleasant evening,” she said. “I will see you all at breakfast tomorrow.”
Ronon got to his feet as well. “Before breakfast, okay Sheppard?” he asked.
“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” John replied with a grin of anticipation; he was getting closer to beating Ronon on their final sprint.
“You're both mad,” Rodney commented, looking between the two of them and shaking his head.
“You should come with us, McKay,” Ronon told him. “It'd do you good.”
“Thank you, but no,” Rodney replied firmly. “I have plenty enough to do already tomorrow morning before our mission without adding trying to keep up with the pair of you idiots while you run around the city - I get quite enough of that on missions.”
“Your loss,” Ronon said with a shrug. “Night.”
“Good night,” Teyla added, following Ronon out the door with a smile for Rodney and John.
John waved them both off and turned to look at Rodney, wondering whether he would be leaving now too. Rodney was staring in the direction of John's now-closed door, his eyes unblinking and slightly unfocused. Shifting so he was sitting on the edge of the bed right at Rodney's side, John reached out and waved his hand in front of Rodney's face. “Hey, buddy,” he said. “You in there?”
“Oh, what, yes,” Rodney said, blinking rapidly before lifting a hand to bat John's away in a distracted manner. He patted his hands up and down his chest, a frown creasing his features. “A-ha,” he said at last, producing a pen from some place in his uniform jacket, uncapping hit with his teeth and then grabbing Ronon’s screwed up ball of paper from the bed beside him. “Come on,” he said impatiently, twirling the hand holding the pen around in a circle at John. “Turn around; I've just had a breakthrough and I need to get this idea down quickly.”
“O-kay,” John said slowly, doing as Rodney had indicated, but not really understanding quite what he wanted. It all became clear when he felt Rodney's large hands on his back, the heat of them bleeding through the thin material of his t-shirt to the bare skin beneath as Rodney evened out the piece of paper using John's back as a flat surface.
“I've a perfectly good desk about three feet away, you know,” John told Rodney, but the only reply he got was an irritated shushing sound followed by the sharp pressure of a pen tip against his shoulder blade as Rodney began to write.
Tilting his head to one side, John tried to figure out what exactly it was that Rodney was writing, but besides the fact that it was obviously both very important - as evidenced by the speed with which Rodney was scribbling - and very complex - again, self-evident in the way in which Rodney was mumbling to himself under his breath as he scribbled - John could not make any of it out.
“So, you gonna fill me in on this breakthrough, or does the furniture not get a share in the glory?” John asked, turning his head even further to attempt to look at Rodney over his shoulder. All he got for his efforts was a thwack on the back of the head with Rodney’s pen. “Hey!” he complained.
“Just let me finish,” Rodney pleaded. “I’ve been working on this theoretical algorithm for weeks… I just need to get the final stages down and then…” Rodney trailed off as his scribbling picked up pace again.
“Yeah, okay then,” John said, giving in to the inevitable and letting Rodney work. Besides, it wasn’t as if it was unpleasant, feeling Rodney pressed up so close behind him. John let his eyes drift closed and gave himself over to the pleasure of Rodney’s proximity. It was all part of his recon objective, after all.
Rodney was very close indeed; John could feel the heat emanating from Rodney’s body all the way down his back. The slightly uncomfortable pressure from Rodney’s pen tip had faded away into insignificance when compared to the hot pressure of his hands on John’s body. Rodney had his left hand splayed wide on John’s left shoulder blade, presumably holding his paper in place, and John could feel the length of Rodney’s right forearm along his spine as Rodney braced himself against John so he could write properly. John could tell that Rodney was completely engrossed again with his work; he had gone back to mumbling softly to himself and John could feel the hot brush of the words on the nape of his neck. John shivered in awareness, the first trickles of arousal starting to trip down his spine.
As he'd expected, John found that his reaction to Rodney didn't surprise him in the slightest. If anything, he felt some small measure of relief to finally be able to confirm the previously rather amorphous feelings he'd been having about Rodney. As Rodney continued to innocently touch him, John found that his arousal continued to build, sparks of pleasure spreading from the contact down to his groin where his cock twitched a little in anticipation. Enjoying the slow burn, John allowed himself to relax back into the comforting pressure of Rodney's hands.
“Okay, done,” Rodney crowed triumphantly some time later, pulling his hands away from John’s back so quickly that John fell back into Rodney before he had time to catch himself. He landed heavily across Rodney’s lap, looking up into Rodney's face. Surprised at the sudden and far more intimate position, John found himself frozen in position for a moment. Rodney was looking down at him in equal shock, his eyes wide and very blue as they stared into John’s and, for a moment, John couldn’t breathe. He licked his lips, trying to work out what to say, and then became totally distracted as he watched with fascination as Rodney’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as they followed the movements of John’s tongue. So, it would appear that he was not the only one whose feelings went beyond those of friendship; his arousal edged up another notch.
Clearing his throat, John sat up reluctantly, still uncertain of just how far he was willing to push things tonight. “Sorry about that, buddy,” he said with a lightness he didn’t feel. He slanted a glance over at Rodney, noting Rodney's embarrassment almost immediately in the hot blush that was streaking his cheeks.
“Um,” was Rodney’s only reply. His head still bent down over his lap and he seemed to be studiously avoiding John’s gaze.
“So, you got what you needed to do done?” John asked, nodding his head towards the now calculation covered page in Rodney’s hand in an attempt to distract Rodney from his embarrassment.
“What? Oh, yes,” Rodney replied, glancing at his equations before finally looking over at John, albeit still a little nervously. “It’s the final stages of a signal analysis proof I’ve been wrestling with for the better part of a month. It’s actually quite fascinating because it may give us a way to use the gate network to track certain signals…”
John smiled to himself and let Rodney’s excited flood of physics flow over him. From the look of him, Rodney had already overcome his previous awkwardness as he lost himself in his explanation of the intricacies involved in identifying potential signals from the background noise associated with wormhole formation. As for himself, John was finding it somewhat more difficult to let go of his response to having found himself practically in Rodney's arms. And watching Rodney come alive with the joy of his subject, his eyes shining, his hands waving and the slight flush still on his cheeks, was not helping matters. John was suddenly beset with the need to reach out, capture Rodney’s hands in his like he had not long ago, and pull Rodney into his arms.
“John?”
John didn’t realise he was staring until Rodney’s use of his first name penetrated his consciousness. He shook his head, trying to clear his lust-befuddled brain.
“Um,” Rodney was saying, looking uncomfortable once again and shifting forward as if he was about to get off the bed. “Perhaps I should get going. I’m sorry if I… I mean, I think that maybe I… um… shouldn’t ha-”
“No!” John interrupted quickly, the vehemence of his response causing Rodney to fall silent immediately and look at John with wide-eyed amazement. “I... no,” John repeated, suddenly not caring that he might not have everything planned out, only certain that he didn't want Rodney to leave, not like this. “Don't go.”
“O-kay,” Rodney agreed slowly, shooting John a puzzled glance, but sitting back down properly again nevertheless. “Are... um... are you okay?”
John shook his head; “Yes,” he said.
“Okay,” Rodney repeated, peering at him closely. “So, that made absolutely no sense.”
“Actually,” John replied softly, more to himself than to Rodney, “it makes perfect sense.”
“Wha-”
John didn't let Rodney even start his next question, he didn't want any more questions - be they Rodney’s or his own. Instead, John leaned forward and silenced Rodney by the simple efficiency of covering Rodney's mouth with his own. And, as soon as he did so, the shot of pure pleasure which bolted through his system was sufficient to silence all his remaining doubts about whether or not this was the right thing to do.
The kiss was deep from the very beginning, John pushing his way past Rodney’s speech-opened lips to taste him fully. For his part, Rodney reciprocated almost at once, starting only momentarily before submitting to John by opening his mouth wider to the insistent thrust of John’s tongue. John felt the thrill of arousal surge even higher at the touch of Rodney’s large hands on his shoulders, holding on to him as Rodney moaned his approval into John’s mouth. Feeling his cock start to twitch and lengthen, John reached out in return, wrapping his hands around Rodney’s biceps, his thumbs stroking over the bulge of muscle. They fitted together effortlessly, complementing each other perfectly, just as they did in the field - Rodney providing the inspiration and John taking care of the action. Without breaking the kiss, John started pushing Rodney back down on to the bed with a steady pressure. When he had Rodney lying down fully across his bed, John finally pulled back from the kiss and sat back on his knees next to Rodney, watching him.
Rodney lay on John’s bed panting and looking slightly dishevelled, gazing up at John with his blue eyes dark with lust. His mouth was still wet and open from John’s kiss and John’s cock surged immediately to full hardness as the sight. For a few beats, it seemed as though neither could do more than stare at the other, but then John noticed the first doubts starting to creep into Rodney’s mind - his eyes widening with dawning worry and an embarrassed blush start tinge his cheeks. A small part of John, the part that had been drilled into him during his training and which dealt with tactical retreats and temporary surrenders, informed him that now was his chance to stop this if he wanted to things to go no further. He could end it now; draw back, makes some excuse, apologise and send Rodney on his way. Hell, he could probably even make Rodney take the blame for the kiss. But John had never been any good at listening to that part of himself - backing down had never held much appeal even in the worst of situations, and this was far from that. Besides which, John found that stopping now was the very last thing he wanted. What he wanted, plain and simple, was Rodney.
Decision made, John wasted no more time. Reaching down, he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt out from the waist-band of his BDUs and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor. He then looked back at Rodney, wanting to make sure that Rodney was okay with where things were going. Rodney’s gaze was riveted on John’s chest, all traces of nervousness gone completely.
“Well, get on with it,” Rodney said impatiently, reaching out his arms to beckon John down towards him.
Laughing, John went, stretching his body out alongside Rodney’s more than willingly. Rodney turned over on his side so that they were lying facing on another. He reached out with one hand to touch John’s face, gently tracing the curve of John’s cheek before leaning forward to bring their mouths together. The kiss was slower this time, just as deep as before, but without any of its underlying uncertainty. Now, they were both committed.
Rodney’s hand continued its downward journey; his hot, blunt fingertips ghosting down John’s neck, along his clavicle before dipping lower to thumb at John’s nipple. John moaned at the touch as Rodney continued to circle his sensitive skin with slow, languid strokes of his thumb. He pushed his chest out further into Rodney’s caresses, whilst at the same time thrusting his hips forwards, his cock hard and leaking and desperate for the friction of Rodney’s body. Rodney appeared to be only to happy to oblige because he moved his top leg forward at once, pushing it between John’s thighs and giving John’s dick something hard to rut against. John groaned and did just that, his hips flexing as he started to rub himself off on Rodney. It felt amazing, even more so when Rodney’s hips starting moving in counter-point to John’s and John felt the hard length of Rodney’s erection grind into him in return. Rodney's hand moved on as well, repositioning itself proprietarily on the curve of John's ass and encouraging the motion of John's hips. The heat from Rodney’s body was all-enveloping; with his searing kisses, the hot rub of his hand, and the scorching length of his cock where it was pushed up against John’s leg, it felt like he was branding John with his touch.
John felt his passion start to spiral out of his control as he flexed his ass back into Rodney's hand and then thrust forward to rub his dick against Rodney's thigh. His cock was leaking steadily in his pants, the scratch of the material just on the edge of what was comfortable against the sensitive head. Realising just how close he was getting to coming, John forced himself to unclench the hand he had fisted in Rodney’s jacket. He tugged impatiently at the material, needing to feel Rodney's skin against his own. “Your turn,” he managed to gasp out before moving back in to kiss to Rodney again, unable to keep away.
Rodney huffed a breath of laughter into John's mouth and then pulled back himself. “Yeah, god, John, yes,” he agreed, his voice rough. Despite his agreement, Rodney's hands seemed entirely unwilling to release John. Rather than removing his own clothing as John wanted, Rodney instead started work on John's pants. Popping the top button with a quick flick, Rodney then eased down John's zipper and parted the material. John inhaled a shaky breath as he watched Rodney reach his big, warm hand to into John's boxers and palmed John's cock firmly. John threw back his head and bit down on his lower lip hard with the effort to keep from coming. Rodney's hand felt utterly perfect wrapped around his dick and it was taking every ounce of John's self-control to remain still when all he wanted to do was thrust himself mindlessly into the Rodney's hand until he spilled his load all over it.
“That's... ah... not quite what... uh... I meant,” John gritted, refraining somehow from moving even as Rodney started to pump his dick with a leisurely rhythm. “Please, Rodney,” he begged again, his hands making a fumbling attempt to get into Rodney's BDUs. “You with me.”
John's plea obviously succeeded in getting though to Rodney as he pulled back just enough to allow John to get at his pants properly. This time John's shaking hands did manage to open them and free Rodney's erection, the tip already poking out of the rim of his boxers, dark red and swollen with need. Together they pushed each other's pants out of the way sufficiently so that they could push their dicks together. John gasped Rodney's name as Rodney reached between them to collect their cocks together in his hand.
“You too; with me.” Rodney's words were whispered into John's mouth and John grunted his agreement, his hand already reaching down to join Rodney's. Together, fingers meshed and arms and hips pumping in tandem, they worked their cocks as the pleasure built to almost unbearable heights. Rodney came first, the frantic final pulses of his dick and the hot splash of his come landing thickly on John's belly serving only to prompt John's own release scant seconds later, his climax screaming through him and leaving him leaning heavily into Rodney, his breath coming in hard pants and his vision decidedly fuzzy around the edges.
“So,” Rodney said uneasily as the silence between them stretched. “That was... um...”
“Good,” John finished for him firmly. “That was good, Rodney. Great, even.”
“Really?” Rodney asked, sounding endearingly unsure.
“Yes, really,” John said as he stood up, shucked off the remainder of his clothes and then grabbed a damp cloth from the bathroom.
“Well, okay then. But, um, maybe I should just... you know...” Rodney trailed off, but cast a glance towards John's door in lieu of actually speaking the words.
“Shh,” John replied at once, shaking his head as he got back in bed and started divesting Rodney of his clothes. “Plenty of time for that later; I've gotta be up bright and early to meet Ronon anyway, remember? Looks like you'll be joining us after all.”
Rodney groaned as if in pain at John's words, but he used the proffered towel nevertheless and then reached out to pull John close, pressing a sleepy kiss to his temple. John knew that his grin must be entirely goofy but, as it was dark and he was wrapped up tight Rodney's arms, he couldn't bring himself to care.
****
Although he knew that he shouldn’t have been unprepared for the sight, John couldn’t help releasing a yelp of surprise when he walked through the gateroom door to run slap-bang into the scanning arm of Rodney’s newly re-modelled MALP. It did, however, give him some small measure of comfort to find that he was able to get in a retort to Rodney’s no doubt imminent complaint before Rodney was even able to formulate it.
“If you don’t want people to step on your toys, Rodney, then you shouldn’t leave them lying all over the floor.” John laughed as Rodney pulled a face at him, his sense of well-being only increasing by the complete lack of awkwardness between them despite what had happened the night before. Indeed, any worries John might have had about the wisdom of having sex with his best friend had been entirely alleviated that morning by Rodney behaving in such a Rodney-like fashion. As soon as John's alarm had awoken them, Rodney had wasted no time in tipping John out of bed before proceeding to commandeer John's bathroom, having left John with strict instructions to brew the coffee. Once washed, dressed and caffeinated, Rodney had then sent John off on his morning run with a long lingering kiss, which had left John very tempted to forgo his run in favour of dragging Rodney back to his bed, and had himself headed cheerfully down to his lab.
“And you should look where you're going; I'm rather busy here, you know,” Rodney huffed to John in exasperation before turning back to the gaggle of scientists clustered around him. He started yelling at them to get the MALP moving again, his arms waving wildly as he directed them in its positioning. “Okay, let's do a final test run,” he ordered. “You might want to stand back for this bit,” he added to John in an undertone before turning back to his staff. “Right,” he said, pulling out his scanner and pressing a few keys in quick succession. “Deploy the electrodes.”
Backing up quickly, John watched as a large metal pole emerged from the MALP, elongating much like a car's radio antennae. “Looking good, people,” Rodney proclaimed gleefully, glancing up from his scanner to beam at his MALP. He then turned towards a much smaller, but otherwise identical-looking pole that was propped up next to the stargate, surrounded by Radek and Miko. “How's yours doing?” he asked.
“Also, looking good, Rodney,” Radek replied, likewise grinning in scientific excitement. “I think you are good to go.”
“Excellent,” Rodney said, bouncing up on his toes. “Right, that's a wrap; good work everyone. Let's cut the power and prep the electrodes for transport.”
As Rodney's people scrambled to obey, John took the opportunity to amble across the gateroom to Ronon and Teyla, noting that they’d wisely chosen to stand well clear of Rodney’s MALP and its associated chaos. “You sure that thing’s going to go down okay on P57-4PQ?” he asked Teyla, nodding his head towards Rodney’s contraption.
“It should not cause a problem,” Teyla replied. “I believe that the Catarans have achieved a moderate level of technological advancement, not anything like Atlantis, or even the Genii, of course,” she clarified, “but enough so that they shouldn’t be unduly alarmed by any of our technology.”
“Maybe they won’t,” Ronon said, looking at the adapted MALP with its large antenna with a somewhat nervous expression on his face. “But I’m not sure I like the look of it much.”
John glanced over at Ronon in surprise. “I didn’t think there was much that could scare you, let alone something of Rodney’s,” he said.
Even more surprising was the flush that then started to appear on Ronon’s face. “Yeah, well,” he mumbled. “It’s those poles,” he explained, gesturing towards the two large antennae with the barrel of his energy pistol. “They remind me of Tenlana district on Sateda.
“Ah, of course,” Teyla said, nodding knowingly. “And the incident with your weeble when you were a child.”
Ronon ducked his head, as if even further embarrassed by Teyla's revelation. “Yeah.”
John shook his head, glancing between Ronon and Teyla in bewilderment before resigning himself to never completely understanding his team mates.
“Hey!” Rodney shouted from across the room where he and Radek were still busy fussing with the MALP, his glare focused on Ronon's un-holstered gun. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing! I’ll have you know that these are extremely sensitive and delicately calibrated pieces of equipment I have here.”
Ronon grunted, but put his weapon away.
“You guys ready?” John checked and, at their confirming nods, he turned and shouted to Rodney. “Get a move on, Rodney. We're all ready to go here.”
“Yes, yes,” Rodney replied vaguely, flapping in John's general direction as he finished his conversation with Radek. He then conducted a final visual check of the MALP and the rest of his equipment before trotting over to John's side, still beaming.
In the face of Rodney's exuberance, John found he couldn't help but grin back. In fact, John was feeling pretty good with life in general at the moment; his team was prepped and read for what promised to be a fairly standard mission, he'd managed to keep up with Ronon for the entire length of their run that morning, and he and Rodney had just enjoyed fabulous sex the night before. Yeah, Wraith aside, life was looking pretty damn good.
“So, this is what you were up at the crack of dawn doing,” he said to Rodney, gesturing towards the MALP and bumping Rodney's shoulder companionably with his own.
“Well,” Rodney replied, lifting his chin in a self-satisfied manner. “I did have to do something to stop myself getting dragged round the city by you two deluded fitness freaks.”
“Colonel,” Elizabeth's calm voice broke through the gateroom melee. “Are you ready to go?”
“As ready as we'll ever be,” John replied, doing a final once-over of his team with a practiced eye. “Dial her up.”
“Good luck,” Elizabeth called as the stargate lit up and the wormhole splashed into place.
Teyla and Ronon headed out straight away, their routine for surveying the terrain implemented flawlessly thanks to the practice of many missions.
“Come on, now Rodney,” John chivvied as Rodney seemed to have become engrossed in a last-minute check of his equipment. He nudged Rodney ahead of him with his elbow. “Quit lusting over your MALP and get moving. The sooner we got through the gate the sooner you can start playing with your pulsar scans.”
Rodney gave the MALP a final affectionate look, whacked John with its remote control, and then started heading towards the event horizon alongside the ambling MALP. John watched both disappear through the wormhole with a couple of satisfying pops, before turning to send Elizabeth a jaunty salute.
“We'll be back before you know it,” he promised. Then, grinning at her look of exasperated fondness, John followed his team through the gate.
~*~
Present Day
It's late when Rodney finally leaves his balcony refuge and heads back to his quarters; the emotional impact of the day finally starting to take its toll and forcing him to make his way towards his bed despite his reluctance to return to his quarters. He tries to avoid making any eye contact with any of the other expedition members he meets in the corridors, walking briskly with his face buried in his PDA. He’s vaguely aware of the odd sympathetic glance being directed his way, mostly by his own scientists, but is thankful when he manages to make it to his quarters without actually having to speak to anyone.
As the doors hiss shut behind him, Rodney surveys his quarters with tired eyes. They’re a mess; coffee mugs, powerbar wrappers, clothes, various pads, and even a couple of laptops are strewn over almost every available surface. It’s another indication of just how bad things have got because, no matter what the stereotypical view of a genius might be, Rodney is neat. Usually. It’s not something he does consciously, but rather is an extension of how his brain naturally works - as natural to him as his neatly numbered equations, precisely plotted schematics, and organized and ordered lab work - and this meticulousness with which he pursues his vocation is something Rodney has also always implemented automatically in every corner of his life. Except for the past few months, during which he has been unable to focus on anything other than the search for John. And now, it seems that that too is about to change.
Looking around the wreck of his quarters, Rodney realises that the IOA’s dictates mean that he will now have to try and regain at least some semblance of his equilibrium - the redesign of the prototype X-304 systems to incorporate Ancient technologies being no mean feat. He doesn’t know if will be able to do it - not the work itself, of course, but what doing the work also involves. Giving up; losing hope; accepting John’s loss.
He knows that Heightmeyer would probably say he is in denial, and, yes, he probably is. Hell, from what he’s seen thus far, the whole of Atlantis is in denial right along with him - everyone from his newest scientist to Elizabeth herself, all of them railing against an indifferent IOA for whom the loss of an individual, even one as high ranking as Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, is more of an inconvenience than anything else. But the IOA’s ultimatum has forced the issue. Up until today they could all still fool themselves; bury their heads in the sand and let themselves believe that, even after all this time, the intel of Teyla’s contacts, the results of Rodney’s scans, and the sheer determination of every single expedition member to never leave a man behind, will somehow be enough for them to find John.
Finding John - that deceptively simple dictate has been what has consumed him for what seems like forever. Looking down at the pad he’s still holding tightly, Rodney wonders again whether he is ready to let that go. He knows what he should do. He should put this pad aside and trust the conclusions of his scientists that there is no further clue here as to John’s location. He should clean his quarters, finally putting to rest all the clutter and debris, the outward signs of an ultimately futile quest, and turn his mind instead to Ancient schematics and X-304 systems designs. He should go to bed and attempt to catch up on three months worth of lost sleep in preparation for the new challenges that tomorrow brings. He should let John go.
But when has he ever done what he should? At least where John Sheppard is concerned.
So, instead, he shoulders out of his uniform jacket and lets it fall carelessly to the floor. Moving over to his desk, he pushes a pile of clutter from the chair onto the floor and takes a seat. And there, amongst the remains of three months of fruitless searching, Rodney opens up the data files on the pad and continues to cling to his hope.
Despite his fatigue, Rodney finds that he is able to make steady progress through the data. For some reason, the pages of impersonal numbers provide him with more comfort than any of the more personal attempts of his friends and colleagues. Besides, it's not like he'd be able to sleep yet, anyway. Not without being haunted by the memories of the last night of truly good sleep he had - wrapped up safely in John’s bed and in his arms. He's never really been a good sleeper; his active brain always too eager to keep working away on any number of ideas even when all Rodney wants is for it to shut up so he can attain unconsciousness. It is only when he finds himself on the very brink of exhaustion that his mind finally falls sufficiently silent for sleep. Since John's disappearance, Rodney has learned to be grateful for his insomnia, filling the long hours between shifts with a huge variety of projects, all of which he hoped would lead them to wherever John had been taken.
After having reviewed the latest scan sets in detail, Rodney finds himself having to reluctantly agree with Radek's assessment - none of it seems promising. The regular jumper patrols still have yet to encounter the hiveship which had attacked during their mission to P57-4PQ. Although, this fact in and of itself was something that was starting to concern Rodney. The presence of the millisecond pulsar in P57-4PQ 's system meant that it should have been relatively easy to track the hiveship to which they had assumed John had been transported during the culling. The residual effects the star's powerful magnetic field would have left on the hive's hull should have enabled Rodney to pin-point its location within hours of the attack. However, despite numerous sensor scans, both from the planet and Atlantis, there was simply no sign of a hiveship thus highlighted. It was odd, to say the least. Odd enough that Rodney was beginning to wonder if there even ever had been a hiveship in orbit.
“But there must have been one there,” Rodney muses to himself under his breath. “The darts didn't come through the gate, there are no other gates in close proximity to the planet, so there had to have been a hiveship somewhere in the system.” He sighs and rubs his tired eyes; this is getting him nowhere - the overwhelming sense of loss and lack of sleep making him grasp desperately at entirely improbably conclusions. Still, some small part of him can't help wondering, ‘It was a culling, wasn't it?’
He closes down the hiveship activity report and turns to the readings from the network of ATA-gene sensors they've inputted into the software protocols of gates across the sector - the system that should alert them if anyone with a strong ATA-gene was to step through any of the marked stargates. Again there's nothing - no sign that anyone with an ATA-gene has been through any of the gates they've got monitored, other than the Atlantis gate and those which SGA teams have visited on missions, of course. These observations, and ones like it taken during the past months, do seem to reinforce the conclusion that John had been taken during the culling, mysterious untraceable hiveship notwithstanding.
Finally, Rodney turns to the data they are still receiving from the MALP he'd stationed on P57-4PQ to take readings from the pulsar. As he scrolls through the various data, he again has to agree with Radek's conclusion - things are looking rather odd here. Now, although Rodney does have to acknowledge that practical cosmology is not a field in which he's worked for a fair few years now - the necessities of life on Atlantis pulling on his talents as an engineer and theoretical physicist far more frequently - even his admittedly rusty eye can spot that the data from the star is unlike anything he's ever seen or read before. The EM emissions remain consistent, at least as consistent as they can from a millisecond pulsar, but in addition to the radio bursts, the MALP has also started picking up some truly odd readings - the flux of particles from the neutron star has a very strange composition. It’s certainly something that piques Rodney's curiosity, but he can't see how it can possibly be connected to John's disappearance. So, he merely makes a note of it with the intention of assigning one of his astrophysicists to look into the phenomenon and closes down the final set of results.
As Rodney stares at the now blank screen of his pad, his work now truly finished for the evening, he feels his exhaustion finally hit him fully. It is enough; he'll be able to sleep now. Even though he might not have found the answers he needs, he has done enough to be able to fall into his bed, close his eyes and just disappear for a few short hours without feeling like he's abandoning John.
Because he's not; he can't.
****
When Rodney feels awareness creep up on him the next morning, he's up and out of bed almost at once. In the past, he might have remained where he was, allowing himself the luxury of waking up slowly, but relaxation is an indulgence which he can no longer allow himself. Inactivity of any kind leaves him open to attack - vulnerable to the memories that have the power to bring him to his knees with just the merest flash of John's smile. Rodney won't allow himself to think of John in any greater detail - he suspects that he simply wouldn't survive.
As a result, his mind is already buzzing with the findings he'd reviewed the previous night, recalling them time and time again, turning them around and examining them from every possible angle. He knows from past experience to allow his brain the freedom to ponder data in this matter - that in some remote recess, a collection of synapses will idle away on seemingly useless information until some crucial aspect will finally click into place allowing him to see the solution. Of course, the presence of a practically impossible task usually helps, but then again, perhaps finding John is just that.
His quarters are still a mess, just as disorganized as they were last night. Rodney steps over the clutter on his way to the bathroom, going through his morning ablutions on auto-pilot while he tries to find some connection between a Wraith culling that perhaps was no such thing, a neutron star that seems to now be emitting an unusual array of particles, and a missing Lieutenant Colonel. He shakes his head, almost slicing his throat open with is razor in the process, as no connection, obvious or otherwise, appears to be forthcoming. But the fact that he can’t see it now, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
He dresses slowly, his thoughts turning to more practical considerations. Today he is supposed to get started on the X-304 project, but he already knows that he won’t. Instead, he’s going take a leaf out of John Sheppard’s book and take an almighty gamble - all carefully calculated, of course - and see if they can’t just produce another Hail Mary.
So, now for finer detail. As he makes his way to the commissary various options flit through his mind - who he needs to speak to, how to get away in the first place and what they will need to take with them. He spots Ronon and Teyla sitting at their normal table as soon as he passes the threshold and hurries over to the food bar to grab himself some coffee. As he meanders through the tables to where his team mates sit, he casts a cautious eye over to see who is sitting within close proximity, breathing easier when he realizes that the surrounding tables are empty.
Ronon and Teyla both look up as he takes his seat beside them. Ronon gives him a usual terse nod, a greeting which, given his general attitude of late, is positively effusive. Teyla, he notices in dismay, also looks worse for wear, her smile a little too bright. Taking a sip of his coffee, Rodney notices that the knuckles of Ronon’s hands are red and swollen, a clear indication of where he had headed after Elizabeth’s announcement. Glancing over at Teyla, he can see further evidence of her state of mind, despite her outward appearance of calm it is obvious that she too is only just holding herself together. He flashes them both a quick smile in return, surprising himself with how easy it is to smile now that he can see for certain that he will not be alone in the quite-frankly insane scheme he is currently concocting. Nevertheless, it is important to at least try to be circumspect.
“So,” he says, trying his best to sound casual about it. “What do you two... uh... think of the IOA's decisions?”
Ronon snorts in disgust and turns to Rodney with a scowl. “I think they're a load of crap,” he replies succinctly, spearing a piece of sausage with particular ferocity.
“I, too, believe that they are being very short-sighted in their decision,” Teyla says, taking a careful sip of tea, her fingers gripping the mug tightly.
Rodney nods, relieved with the confirmation that his team mates opinions are so obviously in line with his own.
“He wouldn’t give up on any of us so easily,” Ronon continues with complete certainty.
“No,” Rodney agrees softly, knowing it to be true. He takes another sip of coffee from his mug and then replaces it firmly on the table in front of him, looking directly back into Ronon’s challenging gaze. “He wouldn't.”
Ronon’s eyes narrow slightly, as if weighing Rodney up. After a few beats he nods to himself, seemingly having found the answer to his unasked query somewhere in Rodney’s gaze. “So what are we going to do about it?” he asks baldly.
Rodney blinks, surprised not so much by the question - it is what he's been hoping for after all - but rather by the fact that Ronon seems to be completely genuine in his asking it of Rodney. “Well,” he says slowly. “My view would be that we don’t give up either.” He glances over at them a little nervously. “In fact,” he continues. “I would go so far as to suggest that we… um… we do the exact opposite.”
At his words, Teyla and Ronon look at each other for a moment before turning in tandem back to him with matching expressions of anticipation on their faces. At their obvious approval, Rodney feels something strange start to bloom in his chest - a sort of balm to the sharp pain of loss - and his mind starts racing again; ideas, plans, schemes… hope. He closes his eyes, relishing the feeling.
When his eyes open again, he finds Ronon still looking at him expectantly. “Well, McKay?” he prompts eagerly. “What's the plan?”
Rodney smiles again, unable to help himself - it's going to work, they're really going to do this. “Okay, okay,” he says to them both, feeling more alive now than he has done since that last night in John’s arms. He pulls his pad out of his jacket pocket and places it on the table beside his coffee mug. “I’m not sure exactly what the data is telling me, but there is definitely something odd going on here,” his hand hovers over the pad protectively as he speaks.
“Odd in what way?” Teyla asks.
Rodney shakes his head, trying to work out how best to describe what is, at best, really only a strong hunch. “I'm not quite sure, but something just feels odd about the data - I mean, think about it. We've been searching for what? The best part of three months now? And we've yet to find a single trace of the hiveship which attacked the planet.”
“And you think that is suspicious.” Teyla says.
“Yes,” Rodney insists. “Well, possibly,” he amends. “Look, it's enough to arouse my curiosity, alright? You see, the pulsar emits very strong EM bursts. So strong in fact that it should be relatively simple to not only identify which hiveship has been in its proximity but also to track its trajectory away from the planet, even through hyperspace.”
“But we haven't been able to find it,” Ronon says.
“No,” Rodney confirms. “Which is odd, to say the least.” He pauses for a moment, wondering whether to give voice to his other vague suspicions, but finally deciding that if he can't talk this over with his team, then they have even less chance for success than he'd previously thought. He takes a deep breath - this is it. “Look, this may sound a bit strange, but did either of you actually ever see a Wraith dart?”
“I...” Teyla starts and then tilts her head to the side in puzzlement, her brow furrowing in her attempt to recall the incident. “No,” she says at last. “I heard them, but we were deep inside the Council chambers when the alarm was raised.”
“What about you?” Rodney asks Ronon.
Ronon nods his head towards Teyla. “I was there too; by the time we made it outside, the attack was over.”
Rodney nods to himself as he assimilates this news. “I didn't see anything either; and John and I were outside. It was just the sound of them and lots of explosions. I wonder...” he trails off, momentarily lost in thought.
“What?” Ronon prompts. “McKay?” He sounds so much like John that Rodney immediately snaps out of his reverie in automatic response.
“Right, right,” he says, waving a hand at Ronon and shaking his head to force his wayward thoughts back into some coherent order. “It just makes me wonder whether it was actually an attack at all.”
“I don’t understand,” Teyla says. “Why would anyone want to fake a Wraith culling? Besides, there were explosions, even from the city we could see them in the distance, and the sound of darts is quite distinct.”
“That, I don’t know,” Rodney replies. “I mean, the explosions were concentrated in the area where John and I were - starting near the research facility and then right by us. But, see, that doesn’t really make sense either. I mean, why attack a research facility when you’ve got an entire city full of people nearby?” He shakes his head in frustration. “However, what I do know is that if the attack was faked - or at least was not what it seemed to be - then-”
“Then Sheppard wasn’t taken by the Wraith.” Ronon finishes for him.
“Exactly.” Rodney says, snapping his fingers once and then pointing at Ronon.
“So, you think we have been looking in the wrong place,” Teyla says slowly.
“Yes,” Rodney agrees. “Or, at least, it’s possible that we have. It’s a starting point, at any rate.”
“And now you want to go back to Catara,” Teyla continues, her voice low and Rodney can see the understanding start to light her eyes. “Despite the IOA’s ruling.”
He looks around once more, reassuring himself that they are in no danger of being overheard. “Yes,” he replies. “If it wasn’t a culling, then those people… the…”
“Catarans,” Teyla supplies.
“Yes, right, them,” Rodney continues, “are hiding something.”
Teyla is shaking her head. “I am not sure of this, Rodney,” she admits. “As much as I would like to find reasons for why John was not culled, I did speak extensively to many of the Catarans immediately following the attack and I did not detect any indication of such a conspiracy.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Rodney says. “And it’s not the only problem with the idea - like why we haven’t picked up any trace of his subcutaneous transmitter either… And the residual traces left by the attack were consistent with Wraith weaponry, not to mention that, as you say, the sound of Wraith darts are fairly unique.” He shakes his head again, unable to properly explain just why he feels there’s something more to it. He doesn’t think that it is just blind faith in John’s seemingly miraculous ability to persevere no matter what the odds, but he isn’t sure. And then there’s also the puzzling data from the pulsar, but he’s even less certain of what that may mean than he is about the possibly fictitious Wraith attack. “Despite all of that,” he says at last. “There are enough unanswered questions at this point to puzzle me.”
Teyla and Ronon exchange a look at his pronouncement and seem to reach some mutually agreed conclusion, as they are sometimes wont to do. “So we go,” Ronon says firmly, as if the conclusion were self-evident. “It beats sitting here doing nothing. Besides, what the hell do the IOA know about what life is like out here?”
Rodney nods his agreement and looks over at Teyla, knowing that he needs to hear her confirm her agreement before he can proceed.
Teyla’s gaze is steady and serious as she returns Rodney’s. “Yes,” she says as she nods slowly to him and then looks over at Ronon to indicate her agreement to him as well. “It is what John would do for any of us.”
“Yes,” Rodney agrees softly, as the memories of all the times John has literally risked all to save him flit through his mind. He closes his eyes against them, unwilling to break down here.
“I only wish there was some way we could involve the others - Elizabeth is just as distressed as we are by what the IOA has decided,” Teyla adds.
That gets Rodney’s eyes open again. “No, no, no,” he says at once, shaking his head frantically. “We can’t put her in that position. If we do this, the fewer people we involve the better.”
“Of course, you are correct Rodney,” Teyla responds.
“Just us,” Ronon adds.
“If we can manage it,” Rodney can’t help adding, his ever-helpful brain always quick to point out just how many ways this could all go horribly wrong.
“We will do this, McKay,” Ronon says with a grin. “We’ll find him; we’re the best.”
His conviction buoys Rodney sufficiently for him to flip mental gears from risk assessment into positive planning mode. “Look, I have some ideas about how we can get off Atlantis and make it back to ….”
“Catara,” Teyla fills in helpfully.
“Yes, there,” Rodney says.
“What do you need, McKay?” Ronon asks.
“I… ah… I think it best if you give me a few hours to get some things together,” Rodney says. “I’ll need to collect some stuff from the lab and then head down to the central processor to… well, look, never mind - it’s complicated,” he finishes quickly as Ronon’s eyes start to narrow in a calculating manner. That particular expression is one that makes Rodney fear for his PDA - especially after that memorable mission to M397-TQ4.” He rises to his feet and pockets his pad. “Three hours, in my quarters?” he asks as he picks up his coffee. “We can talk tactics there without worrying about who might overhear and finalise just when and how we’re going to pull this off.”
Ronon and Teyla both nod in agreement, the light of anticipation shining clearly on their faces. As Rodney leaves the commissary, he hears Ronon mutter something to Teyla about gathering together some supplies of his own. Rodney smiles at that, allowing the hope blooming in his chest to grow yet further. They are actually going to do this, he thinks to himself, John would be proud.
~*~
When I Sorrow Most pt. 3
When I Sorrow Most
Part Two
Three Months Earlier
John’s attention was focused primarily on Rodney, rather than the action taking place on the small screen in front of them. During the course of the last hour, Rodney had managed to slide increasingly further down and he was now lying almost horizontally, listing dangerously to the right with his legs splayed out in front of him and his head scant inches from John’s left hip. And, as endearing as Rodney might look in his sleep, John knew that he’d be a right pain in the ass once he awoke and started bitching about the state of his back. The question was, how best to wake him?
He heard a movement from across the way and looked over to see Ronon grinning at him with a wicked gleam in his eyes. As John watched, Ronon slowly balled up a piece of paper from the pad on John’s desk and threw it towards Rodney. It hit Rodney square on the nose, making him flail briefly in his sleep, but not fully awaken. Trying to restrain his laughter, John aimed a mock scowl over at Ronon before looking over at Teyla to whisper, “Sort him out, would you? He’s gonna cost me my jumper repair if he’s not careful.”
But Teyla, as it turned out, was not much help. Looking decidedly mischievous herself, she pulled a pin out from her hair, shaking it loose and letting it cascade freely down her back. Having done that, she turned towards the bed and, very quickly, ran the tip of the hair pin up the sole of Rodney's sock covered foot.
“Wha-,” Rodney said, jerking upright suddenly, his arms flying and managing to almost hit John in the face with his right hand as he did so.
“Hey, watch it there, buddy,” John complained, capturing Rodney's still flailing hand with both of his. “I'm nothing but an innocent bystander here.”
Rodney turned to blink at him in a dazed fashion, sleep obviously still fogging his mind. “Huh?” he asked, looking down at where John was holding his hand and then back up into John's face, his confusion at the situation evident.
John squeezed his hand once before releasing it, noting as he did so the slight dilation of Rodney's pupils and the pink tinge that bloomed across his cheeks. He filed that bit of information away, interested that Rodney's body seemed not entirely unaffected by his touch.
Rodney blinked again, awareness slowly starting to sharpen his gaze. He shook his head, turning to look at Teyla and Ronon before glancing back at John. “Innocent, you?” he snorted. “Please, I'm not buying that for a minute, Colonel.” His eyes narrowed as he waved a hand and cast another accusing glare in Teyla and Ronon's direction. “And don't either of you think that you're beyond suspicion either.”
“We were merely trying to wake you as the position you were in was likely to cause you pain,” Teyla replied, her eyes alight with amusement.
“Cause us pain with his complaining more like,” Ronon mumbled none too quietly, only to receive a sharp stab in the side with Teyla's hairpin. He glared at her, but she merely raised an eyebrow at him in response.
“Hmm, very thoughtful of you all, I'm sure,” Rodney replied, but he still sounded slightly suspicious. He arched his back, resting his hands on the hollow of his lower back and groaning softly as he stretched out the kinks.
“You okay?” John asked, a little concerned despite knowing that Rodney had a tendency to blow small, inconsequential things out of all proportion.
Rodney was still rubbing his lower back and wincing, but then he relaxed back down beside John with a sigh. “Yes, it's not been too bad recently,” he said.
At Rodney's words, Teyla looked up and smiled at him. “The techniques are truly working then, Rodney?” she asked.
“Yes,” Rodney replied. “As much as I would like to put the effect down to mere a placebo, I have to admit that I am having much less trouble.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Teyla said. “I have been showing Rodney some of the relaxation positions and breathing techniques that many bantos masters have found helpful for relieving tension in their backs,” she explained to John.
“Oh, that's good,” John said, surprised but pleased to hear that Rodney and Teyla were spending some of their free time together.
“So, the episode's over then,” Rodney said, gesturing towards the screen.
“'fraid so, buddy. But don't worry, they managed to save the day,” John replied.
“Yes, and I should be going,” Teyla added, rising gracefully to her feet and smiling at John. “Thank you for a pleasant evening,” she said. “I will see you all at breakfast tomorrow.”
Ronon got to his feet as well. “Before breakfast, okay Sheppard?” he asked.
“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” John replied with a grin of anticipation; he was getting closer to beating Ronon on their final sprint.
“You're both mad,” Rodney commented, looking between the two of them and shaking his head.
“You should come with us, McKay,” Ronon told him. “It'd do you good.”
“Thank you, but no,” Rodney replied firmly. “I have plenty enough to do already tomorrow morning before our mission without adding trying to keep up with the pair of you idiots while you run around the city - I get quite enough of that on missions.”
“Your loss,” Ronon said with a shrug. “Night.”
“Good night,” Teyla added, following Ronon out the door with a smile for Rodney and John.
John waved them both off and turned to look at Rodney, wondering whether he would be leaving now too. Rodney was staring in the direction of John's now-closed door, his eyes unblinking and slightly unfocused. Shifting so he was sitting on the edge of the bed right at Rodney's side, John reached out and waved his hand in front of Rodney's face. “Hey, buddy,” he said. “You in there?”
“Oh, what, yes,” Rodney said, blinking rapidly before lifting a hand to bat John's away in a distracted manner. He patted his hands up and down his chest, a frown creasing his features. “A-ha,” he said at last, producing a pen from some place in his uniform jacket, uncapping hit with his teeth and then grabbing Ronon’s screwed up ball of paper from the bed beside him. “Come on,” he said impatiently, twirling the hand holding the pen around in a circle at John. “Turn around; I've just had a breakthrough and I need to get this idea down quickly.”
“O-kay,” John said slowly, doing as Rodney had indicated, but not really understanding quite what he wanted. It all became clear when he felt Rodney's large hands on his back, the heat of them bleeding through the thin material of his t-shirt to the bare skin beneath as Rodney evened out the piece of paper using John's back as a flat surface.
“I've a perfectly good desk about three feet away, you know,” John told Rodney, but the only reply he got was an irritated shushing sound followed by the sharp pressure of a pen tip against his shoulder blade as Rodney began to write.
Tilting his head to one side, John tried to figure out what exactly it was that Rodney was writing, but besides the fact that it was obviously both very important - as evidenced by the speed with which Rodney was scribbling - and very complex - again, self-evident in the way in which Rodney was mumbling to himself under his breath as he scribbled - John could not make any of it out.
“So, you gonna fill me in on this breakthrough, or does the furniture not get a share in the glory?” John asked, turning his head even further to attempt to look at Rodney over his shoulder. All he got for his efforts was a thwack on the back of the head with Rodney’s pen. “Hey!” he complained.
“Just let me finish,” Rodney pleaded. “I’ve been working on this theoretical algorithm for weeks… I just need to get the final stages down and then…” Rodney trailed off as his scribbling picked up pace again.
“Yeah, okay then,” John said, giving in to the inevitable and letting Rodney work. Besides, it wasn’t as if it was unpleasant, feeling Rodney pressed up so close behind him. John let his eyes drift closed and gave himself over to the pleasure of Rodney’s proximity. It was all part of his recon objective, after all.
Rodney was very close indeed; John could feel the heat emanating from Rodney’s body all the way down his back. The slightly uncomfortable pressure from Rodney’s pen tip had faded away into insignificance when compared to the hot pressure of his hands on John’s body. Rodney had his left hand splayed wide on John’s left shoulder blade, presumably holding his paper in place, and John could feel the length of Rodney’s right forearm along his spine as Rodney braced himself against John so he could write properly. John could tell that Rodney was completely engrossed again with his work; he had gone back to mumbling softly to himself and John could feel the hot brush of the words on the nape of his neck. John shivered in awareness, the first trickles of arousal starting to trip down his spine.
As he'd expected, John found that his reaction to Rodney didn't surprise him in the slightest. If anything, he felt some small measure of relief to finally be able to confirm the previously rather amorphous feelings he'd been having about Rodney. As Rodney continued to innocently touch him, John found that his arousal continued to build, sparks of pleasure spreading from the contact down to his groin where his cock twitched a little in anticipation. Enjoying the slow burn, John allowed himself to relax back into the comforting pressure of Rodney's hands.
“Okay, done,” Rodney crowed triumphantly some time later, pulling his hands away from John’s back so quickly that John fell back into Rodney before he had time to catch himself. He landed heavily across Rodney’s lap, looking up into Rodney's face. Surprised at the sudden and far more intimate position, John found himself frozen in position for a moment. Rodney was looking down at him in equal shock, his eyes wide and very blue as they stared into John’s and, for a moment, John couldn’t breathe. He licked his lips, trying to work out what to say, and then became totally distracted as he watched with fascination as Rodney’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as they followed the movements of John’s tongue. So, it would appear that he was not the only one whose feelings went beyond those of friendship; his arousal edged up another notch.
Clearing his throat, John sat up reluctantly, still uncertain of just how far he was willing to push things tonight. “Sorry about that, buddy,” he said with a lightness he didn’t feel. He slanted a glance over at Rodney, noting Rodney's embarrassment almost immediately in the hot blush that was streaking his cheeks.
“Um,” was Rodney’s only reply. His head still bent down over his lap and he seemed to be studiously avoiding John’s gaze.
“So, you got what you needed to do done?” John asked, nodding his head towards the now calculation covered page in Rodney’s hand in an attempt to distract Rodney from his embarrassment.
“What? Oh, yes,” Rodney replied, glancing at his equations before finally looking over at John, albeit still a little nervously. “It’s the final stages of a signal analysis proof I’ve been wrestling with for the better part of a month. It’s actually quite fascinating because it may give us a way to use the gate network to track certain signals…”
John smiled to himself and let Rodney’s excited flood of physics flow over him. From the look of him, Rodney had already overcome his previous awkwardness as he lost himself in his explanation of the intricacies involved in identifying potential signals from the background noise associated with wormhole formation. As for himself, John was finding it somewhat more difficult to let go of his response to having found himself practically in Rodney's arms. And watching Rodney come alive with the joy of his subject, his eyes shining, his hands waving and the slight flush still on his cheeks, was not helping matters. John was suddenly beset with the need to reach out, capture Rodney’s hands in his like he had not long ago, and pull Rodney into his arms.
“John?”
John didn’t realise he was staring until Rodney’s use of his first name penetrated his consciousness. He shook his head, trying to clear his lust-befuddled brain.
“Um,” Rodney was saying, looking uncomfortable once again and shifting forward as if he was about to get off the bed. “Perhaps I should get going. I’m sorry if I… I mean, I think that maybe I… um… shouldn’t ha-”
“No!” John interrupted quickly, the vehemence of his response causing Rodney to fall silent immediately and look at John with wide-eyed amazement. “I... no,” John repeated, suddenly not caring that he might not have everything planned out, only certain that he didn't want Rodney to leave, not like this. “Don't go.”
“O-kay,” Rodney agreed slowly, shooting John a puzzled glance, but sitting back down properly again nevertheless. “Are... um... are you okay?”
John shook his head; “Yes,” he said.
“Okay,” Rodney repeated, peering at him closely. “So, that made absolutely no sense.”
“Actually,” John replied softly, more to himself than to Rodney, “it makes perfect sense.”
“Wha-”
John didn't let Rodney even start his next question, he didn't want any more questions - be they Rodney’s or his own. Instead, John leaned forward and silenced Rodney by the simple efficiency of covering Rodney's mouth with his own. And, as soon as he did so, the shot of pure pleasure which bolted through his system was sufficient to silence all his remaining doubts about whether or not this was the right thing to do.
The kiss was deep from the very beginning, John pushing his way past Rodney’s speech-opened lips to taste him fully. For his part, Rodney reciprocated almost at once, starting only momentarily before submitting to John by opening his mouth wider to the insistent thrust of John’s tongue. John felt the thrill of arousal surge even higher at the touch of Rodney’s large hands on his shoulders, holding on to him as Rodney moaned his approval into John’s mouth. Feeling his cock start to twitch and lengthen, John reached out in return, wrapping his hands around Rodney’s biceps, his thumbs stroking over the bulge of muscle. They fitted together effortlessly, complementing each other perfectly, just as they did in the field - Rodney providing the inspiration and John taking care of the action. Without breaking the kiss, John started pushing Rodney back down on to the bed with a steady pressure. When he had Rodney lying down fully across his bed, John finally pulled back from the kiss and sat back on his knees next to Rodney, watching him.
Rodney lay on John’s bed panting and looking slightly dishevelled, gazing up at John with his blue eyes dark with lust. His mouth was still wet and open from John’s kiss and John’s cock surged immediately to full hardness as the sight. For a few beats, it seemed as though neither could do more than stare at the other, but then John noticed the first doubts starting to creep into Rodney’s mind - his eyes widening with dawning worry and an embarrassed blush start tinge his cheeks. A small part of John, the part that had been drilled into him during his training and which dealt with tactical retreats and temporary surrenders, informed him that now was his chance to stop this if he wanted to things to go no further. He could end it now; draw back, makes some excuse, apologise and send Rodney on his way. Hell, he could probably even make Rodney take the blame for the kiss. But John had never been any good at listening to that part of himself - backing down had never held much appeal even in the worst of situations, and this was far from that. Besides which, John found that stopping now was the very last thing he wanted. What he wanted, plain and simple, was Rodney.
Decision made, John wasted no more time. Reaching down, he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt out from the waist-band of his BDUs and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor. He then looked back at Rodney, wanting to make sure that Rodney was okay with where things were going. Rodney’s gaze was riveted on John’s chest, all traces of nervousness gone completely.
“Well, get on with it,” Rodney said impatiently, reaching out his arms to beckon John down towards him.
Laughing, John went, stretching his body out alongside Rodney’s more than willingly. Rodney turned over on his side so that they were lying facing on another. He reached out with one hand to touch John’s face, gently tracing the curve of John’s cheek before leaning forward to bring their mouths together. The kiss was slower this time, just as deep as before, but without any of its underlying uncertainty. Now, they were both committed.
Rodney’s hand continued its downward journey; his hot, blunt fingertips ghosting down John’s neck, along his clavicle before dipping lower to thumb at John’s nipple. John moaned at the touch as Rodney continued to circle his sensitive skin with slow, languid strokes of his thumb. He pushed his chest out further into Rodney’s caresses, whilst at the same time thrusting his hips forwards, his cock hard and leaking and desperate for the friction of Rodney’s body. Rodney appeared to be only to happy to oblige because he moved his top leg forward at once, pushing it between John’s thighs and giving John’s dick something hard to rut against. John groaned and did just that, his hips flexing as he started to rub himself off on Rodney. It felt amazing, even more so when Rodney’s hips starting moving in counter-point to John’s and John felt the hard length of Rodney’s erection grind into him in return. Rodney's hand moved on as well, repositioning itself proprietarily on the curve of John's ass and encouraging the motion of John's hips. The heat from Rodney’s body was all-enveloping; with his searing kisses, the hot rub of his hand, and the scorching length of his cock where it was pushed up against John’s leg, it felt like he was branding John with his touch.
John felt his passion start to spiral out of his control as he flexed his ass back into Rodney's hand and then thrust forward to rub his dick against Rodney's thigh. His cock was leaking steadily in his pants, the scratch of the material just on the edge of what was comfortable against the sensitive head. Realising just how close he was getting to coming, John forced himself to unclench the hand he had fisted in Rodney’s jacket. He tugged impatiently at the material, needing to feel Rodney's skin against his own. “Your turn,” he managed to gasp out before moving back in to kiss to Rodney again, unable to keep away.
Rodney huffed a breath of laughter into John's mouth and then pulled back himself. “Yeah, god, John, yes,” he agreed, his voice rough. Despite his agreement, Rodney's hands seemed entirely unwilling to release John. Rather than removing his own clothing as John wanted, Rodney instead started work on John's pants. Popping the top button with a quick flick, Rodney then eased down John's zipper and parted the material. John inhaled a shaky breath as he watched Rodney reach his big, warm hand to into John's boxers and palmed John's cock firmly. John threw back his head and bit down on his lower lip hard with the effort to keep from coming. Rodney's hand felt utterly perfect wrapped around his dick and it was taking every ounce of John's self-control to remain still when all he wanted to do was thrust himself mindlessly into the Rodney's hand until he spilled his load all over it.
“That's... ah... not quite what... uh... I meant,” John gritted, refraining somehow from moving even as Rodney started to pump his dick with a leisurely rhythm. “Please, Rodney,” he begged again, his hands making a fumbling attempt to get into Rodney's BDUs. “You with me.”
John's plea obviously succeeded in getting though to Rodney as he pulled back just enough to allow John to get at his pants properly. This time John's shaking hands did manage to open them and free Rodney's erection, the tip already poking out of the rim of his boxers, dark red and swollen with need. Together they pushed each other's pants out of the way sufficiently so that they could push their dicks together. John gasped Rodney's name as Rodney reached between them to collect their cocks together in his hand.
“You too; with me.” Rodney's words were whispered into John's mouth and John grunted his agreement, his hand already reaching down to join Rodney's. Together, fingers meshed and arms and hips pumping in tandem, they worked their cocks as the pleasure built to almost unbearable heights. Rodney came first, the frantic final pulses of his dick and the hot splash of his come landing thickly on John's belly serving only to prompt John's own release scant seconds later, his climax screaming through him and leaving him leaning heavily into Rodney, his breath coming in hard pants and his vision decidedly fuzzy around the edges.
“So,” Rodney said uneasily as the silence between them stretched. “That was... um...”
“Good,” John finished for him firmly. “That was good, Rodney. Great, even.”
“Really?” Rodney asked, sounding endearingly unsure.
“Yes, really,” John said as he stood up, shucked off the remainder of his clothes and then grabbed a damp cloth from the bathroom.
“Well, okay then. But, um, maybe I should just... you know...” Rodney trailed off, but cast a glance towards John's door in lieu of actually speaking the words.
“Shh,” John replied at once, shaking his head as he got back in bed and started divesting Rodney of his clothes. “Plenty of time for that later; I've gotta be up bright and early to meet Ronon anyway, remember? Looks like you'll be joining us after all.”
Rodney groaned as if in pain at John's words, but he used the proffered towel nevertheless and then reached out to pull John close, pressing a sleepy kiss to his temple. John knew that his grin must be entirely goofy but, as it was dark and he was wrapped up tight Rodney's arms, he couldn't bring himself to care.
****
Although he knew that he shouldn’t have been unprepared for the sight, John couldn’t help releasing a yelp of surprise when he walked through the gateroom door to run slap-bang into the scanning arm of Rodney’s newly re-modelled MALP. It did, however, give him some small measure of comfort to find that he was able to get in a retort to Rodney’s no doubt imminent complaint before Rodney was even able to formulate it.
“If you don’t want people to step on your toys, Rodney, then you shouldn’t leave them lying all over the floor.” John laughed as Rodney pulled a face at him, his sense of well-being only increasing by the complete lack of awkwardness between them despite what had happened the night before. Indeed, any worries John might have had about the wisdom of having sex with his best friend had been entirely alleviated that morning by Rodney behaving in such a Rodney-like fashion. As soon as John's alarm had awoken them, Rodney had wasted no time in tipping John out of bed before proceeding to commandeer John's bathroom, having left John with strict instructions to brew the coffee. Once washed, dressed and caffeinated, Rodney had then sent John off on his morning run with a long lingering kiss, which had left John very tempted to forgo his run in favour of dragging Rodney back to his bed, and had himself headed cheerfully down to his lab.
“And you should look where you're going; I'm rather busy here, you know,” Rodney huffed to John in exasperation before turning back to the gaggle of scientists clustered around him. He started yelling at them to get the MALP moving again, his arms waving wildly as he directed them in its positioning. “Okay, let's do a final test run,” he ordered. “You might want to stand back for this bit,” he added to John in an undertone before turning back to his staff. “Right,” he said, pulling out his scanner and pressing a few keys in quick succession. “Deploy the electrodes.”
Backing up quickly, John watched as a large metal pole emerged from the MALP, elongating much like a car's radio antennae. “Looking good, people,” Rodney proclaimed gleefully, glancing up from his scanner to beam at his MALP. He then turned towards a much smaller, but otherwise identical-looking pole that was propped up next to the stargate, surrounded by Radek and Miko. “How's yours doing?” he asked.
“Also, looking good, Rodney,” Radek replied, likewise grinning in scientific excitement. “I think you are good to go.”
“Excellent,” Rodney said, bouncing up on his toes. “Right, that's a wrap; good work everyone. Let's cut the power and prep the electrodes for transport.”
As Rodney's people scrambled to obey, John took the opportunity to amble across the gateroom to Ronon and Teyla, noting that they’d wisely chosen to stand well clear of Rodney’s MALP and its associated chaos. “You sure that thing’s going to go down okay on P57-4PQ?” he asked Teyla, nodding his head towards Rodney’s contraption.
“It should not cause a problem,” Teyla replied. “I believe that the Catarans have achieved a moderate level of technological advancement, not anything like Atlantis, or even the Genii, of course,” she clarified, “but enough so that they shouldn’t be unduly alarmed by any of our technology.”
“Maybe they won’t,” Ronon said, looking at the adapted MALP with its large antenna with a somewhat nervous expression on his face. “But I’m not sure I like the look of it much.”
John glanced over at Ronon in surprise. “I didn’t think there was much that could scare you, let alone something of Rodney’s,” he said.
Even more surprising was the flush that then started to appear on Ronon’s face. “Yeah, well,” he mumbled. “It’s those poles,” he explained, gesturing towards the two large antennae with the barrel of his energy pistol. “They remind me of Tenlana district on Sateda.
“Ah, of course,” Teyla said, nodding knowingly. “And the incident with your weeble when you were a child.”
Ronon ducked his head, as if even further embarrassed by Teyla's revelation. “Yeah.”
John shook his head, glancing between Ronon and Teyla in bewilderment before resigning himself to never completely understanding his team mates.
“Hey!” Rodney shouted from across the room where he and Radek were still busy fussing with the MALP, his glare focused on Ronon's un-holstered gun. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing! I’ll have you know that these are extremely sensitive and delicately calibrated pieces of equipment I have here.”
Ronon grunted, but put his weapon away.
“You guys ready?” John checked and, at their confirming nods, he turned and shouted to Rodney. “Get a move on, Rodney. We're all ready to go here.”
“Yes, yes,” Rodney replied vaguely, flapping in John's general direction as he finished his conversation with Radek. He then conducted a final visual check of the MALP and the rest of his equipment before trotting over to John's side, still beaming.
In the face of Rodney's exuberance, John found he couldn't help but grin back. In fact, John was feeling pretty good with life in general at the moment; his team was prepped and read for what promised to be a fairly standard mission, he'd managed to keep up with Ronon for the entire length of their run that morning, and he and Rodney had just enjoyed fabulous sex the night before. Yeah, Wraith aside, life was looking pretty damn good.
“So, this is what you were up at the crack of dawn doing,” he said to Rodney, gesturing towards the MALP and bumping Rodney's shoulder companionably with his own.
“Well,” Rodney replied, lifting his chin in a self-satisfied manner. “I did have to do something to stop myself getting dragged round the city by you two deluded fitness freaks.”
“Colonel,” Elizabeth's calm voice broke through the gateroom melee. “Are you ready to go?”
“As ready as we'll ever be,” John replied, doing a final once-over of his team with a practiced eye. “Dial her up.”
“Good luck,” Elizabeth called as the stargate lit up and the wormhole splashed into place.
Teyla and Ronon headed out straight away, their routine for surveying the terrain implemented flawlessly thanks to the practice of many missions.
“Come on, now Rodney,” John chivvied as Rodney seemed to have become engrossed in a last-minute check of his equipment. He nudged Rodney ahead of him with his elbow. “Quit lusting over your MALP and get moving. The sooner we got through the gate the sooner you can start playing with your pulsar scans.”
Rodney gave the MALP a final affectionate look, whacked John with its remote control, and then started heading towards the event horizon alongside the ambling MALP. John watched both disappear through the wormhole with a couple of satisfying pops, before turning to send Elizabeth a jaunty salute.
“We'll be back before you know it,” he promised. Then, grinning at her look of exasperated fondness, John followed his team through the gate.
~*~
Present Day
It's late when Rodney finally leaves his balcony refuge and heads back to his quarters; the emotional impact of the day finally starting to take its toll and forcing him to make his way towards his bed despite his reluctance to return to his quarters. He tries to avoid making any eye contact with any of the other expedition members he meets in the corridors, walking briskly with his face buried in his PDA. He’s vaguely aware of the odd sympathetic glance being directed his way, mostly by his own scientists, but is thankful when he manages to make it to his quarters without actually having to speak to anyone.
As the doors hiss shut behind him, Rodney surveys his quarters with tired eyes. They’re a mess; coffee mugs, powerbar wrappers, clothes, various pads, and even a couple of laptops are strewn over almost every available surface. It’s another indication of just how bad things have got because, no matter what the stereotypical view of a genius might be, Rodney is neat. Usually. It’s not something he does consciously, but rather is an extension of how his brain naturally works - as natural to him as his neatly numbered equations, precisely plotted schematics, and organized and ordered lab work - and this meticulousness with which he pursues his vocation is something Rodney has also always implemented automatically in every corner of his life. Except for the past few months, during which he has been unable to focus on anything other than the search for John. And now, it seems that that too is about to change.
Looking around the wreck of his quarters, Rodney realises that the IOA’s dictates mean that he will now have to try and regain at least some semblance of his equilibrium - the redesign of the prototype X-304 systems to incorporate Ancient technologies being no mean feat. He doesn’t know if will be able to do it - not the work itself, of course, but what doing the work also involves. Giving up; losing hope; accepting John’s loss.
He knows that Heightmeyer would probably say he is in denial, and, yes, he probably is. Hell, from what he’s seen thus far, the whole of Atlantis is in denial right along with him - everyone from his newest scientist to Elizabeth herself, all of them railing against an indifferent IOA for whom the loss of an individual, even one as high ranking as Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, is more of an inconvenience than anything else. But the IOA’s ultimatum has forced the issue. Up until today they could all still fool themselves; bury their heads in the sand and let themselves believe that, even after all this time, the intel of Teyla’s contacts, the results of Rodney’s scans, and the sheer determination of every single expedition member to never leave a man behind, will somehow be enough for them to find John.
Finding John - that deceptively simple dictate has been what has consumed him for what seems like forever. Looking down at the pad he’s still holding tightly, Rodney wonders again whether he is ready to let that go. He knows what he should do. He should put this pad aside and trust the conclusions of his scientists that there is no further clue here as to John’s location. He should clean his quarters, finally putting to rest all the clutter and debris, the outward signs of an ultimately futile quest, and turn his mind instead to Ancient schematics and X-304 systems designs. He should go to bed and attempt to catch up on three months worth of lost sleep in preparation for the new challenges that tomorrow brings. He should let John go.
But when has he ever done what he should? At least where John Sheppard is concerned.
So, instead, he shoulders out of his uniform jacket and lets it fall carelessly to the floor. Moving over to his desk, he pushes a pile of clutter from the chair onto the floor and takes a seat. And there, amongst the remains of three months of fruitless searching, Rodney opens up the data files on the pad and continues to cling to his hope.
Despite his fatigue, Rodney finds that he is able to make steady progress through the data. For some reason, the pages of impersonal numbers provide him with more comfort than any of the more personal attempts of his friends and colleagues. Besides, it's not like he'd be able to sleep yet, anyway. Not without being haunted by the memories of the last night of truly good sleep he had - wrapped up safely in John’s bed and in his arms. He's never really been a good sleeper; his active brain always too eager to keep working away on any number of ideas even when all Rodney wants is for it to shut up so he can attain unconsciousness. It is only when he finds himself on the very brink of exhaustion that his mind finally falls sufficiently silent for sleep. Since John's disappearance, Rodney has learned to be grateful for his insomnia, filling the long hours between shifts with a huge variety of projects, all of which he hoped would lead them to wherever John had been taken.
After having reviewed the latest scan sets in detail, Rodney finds himself having to reluctantly agree with Radek's assessment - none of it seems promising. The regular jumper patrols still have yet to encounter the hiveship which had attacked during their mission to P57-4PQ. Although, this fact in and of itself was something that was starting to concern Rodney. The presence of the millisecond pulsar in P57-4PQ 's system meant that it should have been relatively easy to track the hiveship to which they had assumed John had been transported during the culling. The residual effects the star's powerful magnetic field would have left on the hive's hull should have enabled Rodney to pin-point its location within hours of the attack. However, despite numerous sensor scans, both from the planet and Atlantis, there was simply no sign of a hiveship thus highlighted. It was odd, to say the least. Odd enough that Rodney was beginning to wonder if there even ever had been a hiveship in orbit.
“But there must have been one there,” Rodney muses to himself under his breath. “The darts didn't come through the gate, there are no other gates in close proximity to the planet, so there had to have been a hiveship somewhere in the system.” He sighs and rubs his tired eyes; this is getting him nowhere - the overwhelming sense of loss and lack of sleep making him grasp desperately at entirely improbably conclusions. Still, some small part of him can't help wondering, ‘It was a culling, wasn't it?’
He closes down the hiveship activity report and turns to the readings from the network of ATA-gene sensors they've inputted into the software protocols of gates across the sector - the system that should alert them if anyone with a strong ATA-gene was to step through any of the marked stargates. Again there's nothing - no sign that anyone with an ATA-gene has been through any of the gates they've got monitored, other than the Atlantis gate and those which SGA teams have visited on missions, of course. These observations, and ones like it taken during the past months, do seem to reinforce the conclusion that John had been taken during the culling, mysterious untraceable hiveship notwithstanding.
Finally, Rodney turns to the data they are still receiving from the MALP he'd stationed on P57-4PQ to take readings from the pulsar. As he scrolls through the various data, he again has to agree with Radek's conclusion - things are looking rather odd here. Now, although Rodney does have to acknowledge that practical cosmology is not a field in which he's worked for a fair few years now - the necessities of life on Atlantis pulling on his talents as an engineer and theoretical physicist far more frequently - even his admittedly rusty eye can spot that the data from the star is unlike anything he's ever seen or read before. The EM emissions remain consistent, at least as consistent as they can from a millisecond pulsar, but in addition to the radio bursts, the MALP has also started picking up some truly odd readings - the flux of particles from the neutron star has a very strange composition. It’s certainly something that piques Rodney's curiosity, but he can't see how it can possibly be connected to John's disappearance. So, he merely makes a note of it with the intention of assigning one of his astrophysicists to look into the phenomenon and closes down the final set of results.
As Rodney stares at the now blank screen of his pad, his work now truly finished for the evening, he feels his exhaustion finally hit him fully. It is enough; he'll be able to sleep now. Even though he might not have found the answers he needs, he has done enough to be able to fall into his bed, close his eyes and just disappear for a few short hours without feeling like he's abandoning John.
Because he's not; he can't.
****
When Rodney feels awareness creep up on him the next morning, he's up and out of bed almost at once. In the past, he might have remained where he was, allowing himself the luxury of waking up slowly, but relaxation is an indulgence which he can no longer allow himself. Inactivity of any kind leaves him open to attack - vulnerable to the memories that have the power to bring him to his knees with just the merest flash of John's smile. Rodney won't allow himself to think of John in any greater detail - he suspects that he simply wouldn't survive.
As a result, his mind is already buzzing with the findings he'd reviewed the previous night, recalling them time and time again, turning them around and examining them from every possible angle. He knows from past experience to allow his brain the freedom to ponder data in this matter - that in some remote recess, a collection of synapses will idle away on seemingly useless information until some crucial aspect will finally click into place allowing him to see the solution. Of course, the presence of a practically impossible task usually helps, but then again, perhaps finding John is just that.
His quarters are still a mess, just as disorganized as they were last night. Rodney steps over the clutter on his way to the bathroom, going through his morning ablutions on auto-pilot while he tries to find some connection between a Wraith culling that perhaps was no such thing, a neutron star that seems to now be emitting an unusual array of particles, and a missing Lieutenant Colonel. He shakes his head, almost slicing his throat open with is razor in the process, as no connection, obvious or otherwise, appears to be forthcoming. But the fact that he can’t see it now, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
He dresses slowly, his thoughts turning to more practical considerations. Today he is supposed to get started on the X-304 project, but he already knows that he won’t. Instead, he’s going take a leaf out of John Sheppard’s book and take an almighty gamble - all carefully calculated, of course - and see if they can’t just produce another Hail Mary.
So, now for finer detail. As he makes his way to the commissary various options flit through his mind - who he needs to speak to, how to get away in the first place and what they will need to take with them. He spots Ronon and Teyla sitting at their normal table as soon as he passes the threshold and hurries over to the food bar to grab himself some coffee. As he meanders through the tables to where his team mates sit, he casts a cautious eye over to see who is sitting within close proximity, breathing easier when he realizes that the surrounding tables are empty.
Ronon and Teyla both look up as he takes his seat beside them. Ronon gives him a usual terse nod, a greeting which, given his general attitude of late, is positively effusive. Teyla, he notices in dismay, also looks worse for wear, her smile a little too bright. Taking a sip of his coffee, Rodney notices that the knuckles of Ronon’s hands are red and swollen, a clear indication of where he had headed after Elizabeth’s announcement. Glancing over at Teyla, he can see further evidence of her state of mind, despite her outward appearance of calm it is obvious that she too is only just holding herself together. He flashes them both a quick smile in return, surprising himself with how easy it is to smile now that he can see for certain that he will not be alone in the quite-frankly insane scheme he is currently concocting. Nevertheless, it is important to at least try to be circumspect.
“So,” he says, trying his best to sound casual about it. “What do you two... uh... think of the IOA's decisions?”
Ronon snorts in disgust and turns to Rodney with a scowl. “I think they're a load of crap,” he replies succinctly, spearing a piece of sausage with particular ferocity.
“I, too, believe that they are being very short-sighted in their decision,” Teyla says, taking a careful sip of tea, her fingers gripping the mug tightly.
Rodney nods, relieved with the confirmation that his team mates opinions are so obviously in line with his own.
“He wouldn’t give up on any of us so easily,” Ronon continues with complete certainty.
“No,” Rodney agrees softly, knowing it to be true. He takes another sip of coffee from his mug and then replaces it firmly on the table in front of him, looking directly back into Ronon’s challenging gaze. “He wouldn't.”
Ronon’s eyes narrow slightly, as if weighing Rodney up. After a few beats he nods to himself, seemingly having found the answer to his unasked query somewhere in Rodney’s gaze. “So what are we going to do about it?” he asks baldly.
Rodney blinks, surprised not so much by the question - it is what he's been hoping for after all - but rather by the fact that Ronon seems to be completely genuine in his asking it of Rodney. “Well,” he says slowly. “My view would be that we don’t give up either.” He glances over at them a little nervously. “In fact,” he continues. “I would go so far as to suggest that we… um… we do the exact opposite.”
At his words, Teyla and Ronon look at each other for a moment before turning in tandem back to him with matching expressions of anticipation on their faces. At their obvious approval, Rodney feels something strange start to bloom in his chest - a sort of balm to the sharp pain of loss - and his mind starts racing again; ideas, plans, schemes… hope. He closes his eyes, relishing the feeling.
When his eyes open again, he finds Ronon still looking at him expectantly. “Well, McKay?” he prompts eagerly. “What's the plan?”
Rodney smiles again, unable to help himself - it's going to work, they're really going to do this. “Okay, okay,” he says to them both, feeling more alive now than he has done since that last night in John’s arms. He pulls his pad out of his jacket pocket and places it on the table beside his coffee mug. “I’m not sure exactly what the data is telling me, but there is definitely something odd going on here,” his hand hovers over the pad protectively as he speaks.
“Odd in what way?” Teyla asks.
Rodney shakes his head, trying to work out how best to describe what is, at best, really only a strong hunch. “I'm not quite sure, but something just feels odd about the data - I mean, think about it. We've been searching for what? The best part of three months now? And we've yet to find a single trace of the hiveship which attacked the planet.”
“And you think that is suspicious.” Teyla says.
“Yes,” Rodney insists. “Well, possibly,” he amends. “Look, it's enough to arouse my curiosity, alright? You see, the pulsar emits very strong EM bursts. So strong in fact that it should be relatively simple to not only identify which hiveship has been in its proximity but also to track its trajectory away from the planet, even through hyperspace.”
“But we haven't been able to find it,” Ronon says.
“No,” Rodney confirms. “Which is odd, to say the least.” He pauses for a moment, wondering whether to give voice to his other vague suspicions, but finally deciding that if he can't talk this over with his team, then they have even less chance for success than he'd previously thought. He takes a deep breath - this is it. “Look, this may sound a bit strange, but did either of you actually ever see a Wraith dart?”
“I...” Teyla starts and then tilts her head to the side in puzzlement, her brow furrowing in her attempt to recall the incident. “No,” she says at last. “I heard them, but we were deep inside the Council chambers when the alarm was raised.”
“What about you?” Rodney asks Ronon.
Ronon nods his head towards Teyla. “I was there too; by the time we made it outside, the attack was over.”
Rodney nods to himself as he assimilates this news. “I didn't see anything either; and John and I were outside. It was just the sound of them and lots of explosions. I wonder...” he trails off, momentarily lost in thought.
“What?” Ronon prompts. “McKay?” He sounds so much like John that Rodney immediately snaps out of his reverie in automatic response.
“Right, right,” he says, waving a hand at Ronon and shaking his head to force his wayward thoughts back into some coherent order. “It just makes me wonder whether it was actually an attack at all.”
“I don’t understand,” Teyla says. “Why would anyone want to fake a Wraith culling? Besides, there were explosions, even from the city we could see them in the distance, and the sound of darts is quite distinct.”
“That, I don’t know,” Rodney replies. “I mean, the explosions were concentrated in the area where John and I were - starting near the research facility and then right by us. But, see, that doesn’t really make sense either. I mean, why attack a research facility when you’ve got an entire city full of people nearby?” He shakes his head in frustration. “However, what I do know is that if the attack was faked - or at least was not what it seemed to be - then-”
“Then Sheppard wasn’t taken by the Wraith.” Ronon finishes for him.
“Exactly.” Rodney says, snapping his fingers once and then pointing at Ronon.
“So, you think we have been looking in the wrong place,” Teyla says slowly.
“Yes,” Rodney agrees. “Or, at least, it’s possible that we have. It’s a starting point, at any rate.”
“And now you want to go back to Catara,” Teyla continues, her voice low and Rodney can see the understanding start to light her eyes. “Despite the IOA’s ruling.”
He looks around once more, reassuring himself that they are in no danger of being overheard. “Yes,” he replies. “If it wasn’t a culling, then those people… the…”
“Catarans,” Teyla supplies.
“Yes, right, them,” Rodney continues, “are hiding something.”
Teyla is shaking her head. “I am not sure of this, Rodney,” she admits. “As much as I would like to find reasons for why John was not culled, I did speak extensively to many of the Catarans immediately following the attack and I did not detect any indication of such a conspiracy.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Rodney says. “And it’s not the only problem with the idea - like why we haven’t picked up any trace of his subcutaneous transmitter either… And the residual traces left by the attack were consistent with Wraith weaponry, not to mention that, as you say, the sound of Wraith darts are fairly unique.” He shakes his head again, unable to properly explain just why he feels there’s something more to it. He doesn’t think that it is just blind faith in John’s seemingly miraculous ability to persevere no matter what the odds, but he isn’t sure. And then there’s also the puzzling data from the pulsar, but he’s even less certain of what that may mean than he is about the possibly fictitious Wraith attack. “Despite all of that,” he says at last. “There are enough unanswered questions at this point to puzzle me.”
Teyla and Ronon exchange a look at his pronouncement and seem to reach some mutually agreed conclusion, as they are sometimes wont to do. “So we go,” Ronon says firmly, as if the conclusion were self-evident. “It beats sitting here doing nothing. Besides, what the hell do the IOA know about what life is like out here?”
Rodney nods his agreement and looks over at Teyla, knowing that he needs to hear her confirm her agreement before he can proceed.
Teyla’s gaze is steady and serious as she returns Rodney’s. “Yes,” she says as she nods slowly to him and then looks over at Ronon to indicate her agreement to him as well. “It is what John would do for any of us.”
“Yes,” Rodney agrees softly, as the memories of all the times John has literally risked all to save him flit through his mind. He closes his eyes against them, unwilling to break down here.
“I only wish there was some way we could involve the others - Elizabeth is just as distressed as we are by what the IOA has decided,” Teyla adds.
That gets Rodney’s eyes open again. “No, no, no,” he says at once, shaking his head frantically. “We can’t put her in that position. If we do this, the fewer people we involve the better.”
“Of course, you are correct Rodney,” Teyla responds.
“Just us,” Ronon adds.
“If we can manage it,” Rodney can’t help adding, his ever-helpful brain always quick to point out just how many ways this could all go horribly wrong.
“We will do this, McKay,” Ronon says with a grin. “We’ll find him; we’re the best.”
His conviction buoys Rodney sufficiently for him to flip mental gears from risk assessment into positive planning mode. “Look, I have some ideas about how we can get off Atlantis and make it back to ….”
“Catara,” Teyla fills in helpfully.
“Yes, there,” Rodney says.
“What do you need, McKay?” Ronon asks.
“I… ah… I think it best if you give me a few hours to get some things together,” Rodney says. “I’ll need to collect some stuff from the lab and then head down to the central processor to… well, look, never mind - it’s complicated,” he finishes quickly as Ronon’s eyes start to narrow in a calculating manner. That particular expression is one that makes Rodney fear for his PDA - especially after that memorable mission to M397-TQ4.” He rises to his feet and pockets his pad. “Three hours, in my quarters?” he asks as he picks up his coffee. “We can talk tactics there without worrying about who might overhear and finalise just when and how we’re going to pull this off.”
Ronon and Teyla both nod in agreement, the light of anticipation shining clearly on their faces. As Rodney leaves the commissary, he hears Ronon mutter something to Teyla about gathering together some supplies of his own. Rodney smiles at that, allowing the hope blooming in his chest to grow yet further. They are actually going to do this, he thinks to himself, John would be proud.
~*~
When I Sorrow Most pt. 3