Dumbstruck - part 3
Dumbstruck part 1 is here.
Dumbstruck part 2 is here.
Dumbstruck
Part Three
The lack of ability to communicate was really starting to frustrate John. Ever since he’d become aware of his current existence, not being able to speak was simply the way he was, a fact of life. But now, for the first time, his inability to articulate his thoughts and emotions gnawed at him.
They’d had him change into some sort of lightweight clothing this time, the kind of thing you’d wear to sleep in, but he noticed that several of the personnel were wearing similar outfits so he figured that it had to do with being in the infirmary. Whatever the purpose behind the red pajama set, he realized they did not intend to let him out of the infirmary again today. He found himself irritably smacking away Keller’s hands when she helped him back to bed, replacing the monitoring devices on his body.
“My,” she said archly, “someone is cranky. I think maybe you’ve stayed up too long past your bedtime.”
He wasn’t sure exactly what sort of look he’d given her but she suddenly backpedaled and held up a hand in peace. “I’m sorry, Colonel Sheppard, but I really do think you need to rest now. It’s been a long day for you, don’t you think?”
He sighed and nodded, acquiescing quietly to her ministrations and lying back on the pillow. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, causing him to look up at her.
“Don’t worry, Colonel. I’ve been in Pegasus long enough to know that Rodney McKay is a very determined man when it comes to problem solving. I’m sure he’ll find a way to fix things. In the meantime, get some rest and when you wake I’ll see about sending someone to get you some dinner.” She moved off with a smile.
He watched her go, feeling his eyelids drooping with fatigue and relaxing into the soft, sweet-smelling bedding. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a so nice a bed and unbidden an image came into his mind-he was in a room with a clean, white light pouring in from open windows, a sea breeze lifting billowing curtains playfully, a warm body curled against his side. He could feel the heavy weight of someone’s arm across his chest, the fingers that moved lazily against his bare skin, the leg that pushed in-between his own, toes curling and unfurling sleepily. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the interested push of a slowly awakening cock against his ass and the answering warmth it roused in him. He knew the hand that was warm and inquiring against his skin, knew the scent of the person behind him and recognized the feel of the skin beneath his own hands.
It was Rodney.
He was jolted into wakefulness by the sound of voices around him.
“Easy now, laddie,” Carson was saying in that delightful accent that somehow reminded John of home in ways he did not understand. John turned his head and saw Carson directing a medical technician who was assisting him in helping a patient into the bed next to John.
The young man had the bearing and haircut that spoke to John of military, he looked a bit banged up, but not too seriously injured. His arm was bandaged and there was bruising on his face. He acknowledged John with weary eyes, starting to sit up straighter and bring his hand up in a sketchy sort of gesture towards John, but Carson forestalled him. “The Colonel won’t mind if you don’t salute him this time, lad,” he said soothingly.
“Yeah, the Colonel’s like that,” the young man agreed with a goofy sort of grin on his face. “He’ll cut you all kinds of slack on stuff he doesn’t think is important, but woe be unto you if you screw up on something he does think’s important.” The soldier’s words started to slur a little. “Your ass is grass if you don’t protect the geeks on your team and he’s the motherfucking lawnmower.” The soldier gave John a cheerful nod.
Carson made a sort of choking noise and shot a look full of amusement in John’s direction. John responded with a ‘who me?’ gesture because really, what the hell was a ‘geek’?
“There now, son,” Carson was saying to the soldier in the bed next to John. “You get some rest.”
The young man yawned widely and closed his eyes.
“Everything alright then, Colonel?” Carson turned to John with a tired smile.
He rolled his palm where it lay across his lap, lifting a couple of fingers upward in a sort of mini-shrug, trying to convey, ‘not too bad for a guy who can’t remember much’. Carson just nodded as though he’d understood.
“You get some rest too, Colonel,” Carson said with mock sternness. “That’s an order.”
John knew that orders were something he was supposed to obey, but thought perhaps Carson was making fun of him for some reason. He wished that Rodney or Teyla or Ronon were around. Things seemed to make more sense when they were there.
He positively itched to be doing something, anything but lie there in bed when he no longer felt sleepy. He was tired, exhausted really, by the constant barrage of new input into his brain. He could feel a pull, a soporific request from some part of his mind, urging him to forget all that he’d learned, that it really wasn’t important, that it was holding him back.
Holding him back from what?
The pull on his mind subsided, as though it couldn’t bear direct scrutiny.
Instead, he became aware of a murmuring at the back of his mind, whisper-soft like the sounds of the sea coming through his open windows in the room of his memory. As he concentrated, the noise began to swell, to take form. It was an orchestra of sensation: music thrumming through his veins, with mathematics providing a high, clear counterpoint, and ten thousand years of stars just within his reach and the brush of fingers against his brow.
He shivered at the feelings that ran though him. Too much. Not enough. Like being just on the edge of orgasm but not quite there. Reaching for it, feeling the tension build, climbing like the car of a rollercoaster approaching the top of the hill, knowing the ecstatic release was almost there…
Come to us.
The voice in his head was as clear as the welcome he’d received on his arrival in the city and it felt both right and wrong at the same time.
Please. We need you.
There was no such thing as need, his mind insisted. There was only being. There was only this, the days that he could remember; there was nothing else. He needed to let go, to fly away, to embrace the nothingness.
We need your help.
Something within him flicked to attention at the plea. He felt another pull, stronger, more insistent this time, as a flood of memories rushed back into him-small glimpses into another life, as seen through a camera’s lens, illuminated in brief, lightening flashes of insight. He and Rodney sitting together on the edge of the pier in the moonlight. Laughing with his family over something silly said at breakfast in the mess hall. Rodney’s hands providing a stage show to accompany whatever explanation he was giving with excitement. Teyla circling him in a small workout room, short rods in her hands, a feral smile on her face as she moved to attack as though she were inviting John to dance. Ronon, crouched behind a tree, rain soaking through the canopy overhead to darken his clothes as he turned to John and signaled how many enemy combatants they faced. Rodney, a smear of blood on his face from several small cuts, as though from flying glass, frantically working over a console and shouting over his shoulder, “I need just a few more minutes!”
John jerked awake again, to find himself surrounded by the quiet sounds of the infirmary at rest, the lights dimmed, the machinery a soft hum, not unlike the noise in his head. The soldier in the opposite bed was asleep. The need to be up and moving was a physical force that John could no longer deny.
He started to toss back the covers and swing out of bed before he realized he was still attached to some sort of machine. He began pulling at the wires connected to the sticky pads on his forehead. An alarm immediately sounded and John quickly slapped the pad back on his skin, lying down and closing his eyes. He sensed someone coming partway into the room to check on him and breathed a sigh of relief when they did nothing more than give him a cursory glance before leaving again.
Thinking furiously, John waited a few minutes and briefly detached the pads again. As before, the person on duty came into the room, but this time she came over to the machine and checked the settings, grumbling slightly under her breath all the way. John watched her through half-slit eyelids as she fussed with the machine and then after she left, he slowly counted to 100 and disturbed the pads again.
This time the medtech came stomping into the room with a huff. After checking the machine again, she leaned over John to check the pads themselves, pressing one gently against his forehead, making sure it was placed properly, he guessed.
The next time he fiddled with the pads, she did not come. The alarm shut off within thirty seconds of his replacing the pads. He counted to 500, and then rapidly rolled out of bed, slapping the pads on the forehead of the man sleeping in the next bed and holding his breath as he waited.
No one came.
With a grin he gathered his other clothing and silently padded out of the room on bare feet.
First stop was a supply closet where he shed the pajamas and quickly dressed in his usual clothes. His uniform. It was more than the realization that the red pajama-thingys would make it obvious that he belonged in the infirmary-these clothes felt right, felt like a second skin. He hesitated in the doorway of the supply room on exiting, unsure of which direction to go.
A floor panel to his right lit up briefly. As he walked towards it, another one, some distance ahead, did the same. He began to trot along the quiet hallways at a half-jog, keeping an ear out for anyone who might also be heading his way, but hurrying to keep up with the ghostly directions, which seemed to be appearing and fading faster. When he reached a t-intersection in the corridor, a wall panel lit up with an arrowhead pointing the way. Nodding to himself, he took the darker pathway, following the curving corridor to where it ended at a transporter. Feeling just a little bit like a he was going against the rules, he took hold of the handle and ‘thought’ where he wanted to go-to follow the directions of his unseen guide. The doors slid shut soundlessly and opened almost immediately into another dark hallway.
The pull was stronger now, and he rode the wave of it without thinking to his destination.
Yes. Yes. Yes!
****
“Where the hell have you been?” Rodney’s angry voice startled him into wakefulness and the Chair suddenly rocked back into an upright position. His neck had a crick in it from where he’d curled up on his side in the Chair; he rubbed at it now, frowning crossly at Rodney and slowly, stiffly, straightening out his position. Where do you think I was, genius?
“Oh don’t start with me,” Rodney continued to harangue him, fists on hips, looking really pissed. For a second, John thought Rodney had heard his thoughts or that he’d possibly spoken out loud. “You had everyone freaking out looking for you and here you are, down in the Chair room, like the controls of the city are just one big Barcalounger to you.”
John held up a hand near his face and made it talk at Rodney.
“Don’t you ‘blah, blah, blah’ me, Sheppard. Don’t you get it? People are really worried about you.” He looked around, frowningly. “Just what the hell brought you down here anyway?” He turned back to glare at John once more and then his expression changed to one of astonishment. He crossed to John’s side in two strides, taking him by the chin and turning his head to the side. “The implant! It’s gone…” Rodney dropped John’s jaw to look around the Chair for the implant. Spying it on the floor, he reached down for it. John struck out sharply, grabbing Rodney’s fingers painfully before they could close over the implant.
“Ow! Let go!” he complained. His expression softened as he looked up into John’s face. “Seriously, John, I’ll be careful. I need to see it though.”
John tightened the lips that could not explain what Rodney needed to hear and shook his head. With his free hand, he pointed at his eyes. Satisfied that he had Rodney’s attention, he relinquished his hold as they both straightened. Demonstrating a small circle with thumb and forefinger, he mimed attaching it to his head.
“Yes, yes, you broke out of the infirmary by placing your leads on Lt. Deveraux. Very clever. Carson was having kittens when I got the call from the infirmary.”
John struggled with that mental image and let it go, but not before he briefly pictured the man with the odd accent sitting in a chair, covered with small furry creatures that were vocalizing in a plaintive sort of way. Shaking his head to both rid himself of the image as well as disagree with Rodney as to the point he was trying to make, he mimed the circles again, this time placing them on Rodney’s forehead and then, touching middle finger to thumb, he held his arms out from his sides loosely, closed his eyes and hummed in a low monotone. He then opened one eye slightly to see if Rodney was following him.
“I hate to tell you, Colonel, but even when you could speak, Charades really wasn’t your best game,” Rodney’s expression and tone were sour. John pointed to his eyes again and snapped his fingers impatiently at Rodney before going through the actions again. When he saw that Rodney was frowning at him intently, John pointed to the implant and repeated the whole sequence once more, his gestures becoming more emphatic.
“Ohmygod,” Rodney breathed the sentence out all as one word. “It’s another Ascension device.”
John beamed at him, pleased that Rodney picked up on what he was trying to say.
“Come with me,” Rodney took him roughly by the arm and began dragging him towards the door.
****
“So you’re telling us that despite evidence of unusual healing on these most recent scans, the Colonel still can’t talk and is not in complete control of his memories.” Rodney sounded angry.
John looked up from where he was sitting on the side of the infirmary bed, studying the toes of his boots and wondering how much longer the discussion of his medical condition was going to continue. He’d never gotten anything to eat for dinner, he was pretty tired too. His head felt better though and he realized he’d been unaware of the low-level headache until it was no longer there. He’d been starting to kick his feet against the side of the bed in boredom when Rodney’s words had caught his attention.
“Perhaps he just needs more time. After all, the implant has been removed and we have no idea how that was achieved,” Teyla said calmly, glancing at Carson for confirmation. She somehow looked fresh and alert, as though it were not the middle of the night and she’d not been out looking for John along with everyone else.
Carson scratched the side of his ear. “I canna tell you, either of you, what to expect from here on out. We’re in unexplored territory. I can tell you this: these most recent scans are nothing like the ones taken from this morning. It does confirm my theory that the implant was causing the damage.”
“Most likely suppressing his memories to make it easier for him to leave everything he cares about behind and Ascend. Bastards.”
“Rodney,” Elizabeth said reprovingly. Unlike Teyla, she looked tired, and John felt guilty for adding to her burdens.
“Well they are. Not satisfied with merely withdrawing from this worldly existence, they had to go and keep creating technological shortcuts to attain the highest level of spirituality. I’m not a religious man myself, but I think that counts as cheating.” Rodney’s expression suddenly caved in on itself and he turned to Carson, fear plainly etched in his voice. “He’s not still on the road to Ascension, is he?”
“I dinna think so,” Carson said slowly. “If anything, I’d say he seems more aware and more like himself. The scans certainly suggest healing and not more damage. Though how that implant came out and the healing was achieved is anybody’s guess. My belief is that if he were not an ATA carrier however, the use of this technology would have been like lobotomizing him. Which is why the Zolon found it an effective means of inflicting punishment and managing their prisoners.”
“Sheppard,” Ronon rumbled suddenly, causing John to look over at him. “You know who you are?”
“What kind of question is that?” Rodney complained. “Not that he could answer you anyway. Or that he had the best grasp on that concept in the first place.”
“Rodney.” The way Elizabeth laid emphasis on his name indicated that she was irritated with him. She looked encouragingly at John and he realized she was hoping for an answer to Ronon’s question. He made a face and shrugged.
“You see? He made the ‘I’m fine’ face, which I’ve seen him give under every circumstance from ‘gee, we almost crashed the puddlejumper’ to ‘I think I’m turning into a giant bug’, to ‘no, I didn’t notice the three foot slab of wood impaling my abdomen but I think it missed my kidneys.’ You’re not going to be able to get much from that.”
Elizabeth looked at him curiously. “Just how is it that you are able to read the Colonel so well, Rodney?”
Rodney flushed. “Well, you know. We spend a lot of time together in the field, that sort of thing. He has this whole secret hand language that took me ages to figure out, but I've got it down now. Besides, he’s only got five expressions to begin with.”
Insulted, John leaned out and gibbsmacked Rodney in the head.
“Oh, c’mon, you know what I mean. I didn’t say that you weren’t extremely versatile in the use of those five expressions. You weren’t exactly the most articulate person before all this, you know,” Rodney sounded cross with him but he looked upset.
Articulate this. John flipped him the bird.
There was a ripple of suppressed amusement in the room and then Ronon said, “I dunno, seems he’s doing pretty well getting his point across to me.”
“Why don’t we all call it a night?” Elizabeth suggested. “It’s late and I don’t think there’s anything more to be learned here this evening. Who knows, perhaps John will have regained more of his memories by the morning.”
“I just hate not being able to do anything constructive,” Rodney grumbled, not quite sotto voice.
“Carson,” Teyla spoke suddenly as everyone was preparing to depart the room. “Perhaps the Colonel would be more likely to recover more of his memories if he stayed the remainder of the night in his own quarters?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Teyla,” Carson began but Rodney interrupted.
“No, no, she’s right. Besides, what are you going to do if he decides to leave again? Chain him to the bed?”
John felt his muscles bunch and tighten, ready to act if he needed to move quickly. “Look at him,” Rodney pointed, triumphant in his argument. “You think you can keep him here if he really wants to go? Without physical restraints, that is?”
“As if I ever could,” Carson muttered. He appeared to be considering Teyla’s suggestion for a moment and then sighed, accepting that he was ignoring his better judgment. “Very well then, he can go back to his quarters but one of you must stay with him at all times,” he added sternly. “And he comes back here first thing in the morning.”
With a collective sigh of relief, the team left the room.
****
Without any discussion at all, the team apparently decided that Rodney would be the one to stay the remainder of the night with John, which was okay by him. Entering his quarters was a weird experience; things that should have seemed familiar did not and yet other, innocuous items evoked the oddest memories.
Odder still, was the fact that Rodney seemed hell-bent on ignoring him. After bustling John into the room and gauging his reactions, Rodney had pushed him none-too-gently in the direction of the bed. “Go to sleep now. I’ve got work to do.”
Somehow, that seemed very familiar.
John ignored Rodney in return, wandering around the room, randomly opening drawers and poking at items he found within. When he entered what appeared to be a small bathing and toilet area, he stood looking at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment. He looked scruffy and disreputable, with his hair too long and hanging down over his eyes and two-week’s worth of beard covering his lower face and jaw. The side of his head where the implant had been looked a little puckered and angry, but it was no longer sore to the touch. He played with the controls in the cubicle until he determined how to get hot water flowing and he suddenly felt the need to take a cleansing bath. Not able to stopper the shallow stall so that it would fill with water, he was pleasantly surprised he could make it rain instead. No, shower.
Twenty minutes later, the room filled with steam, he finally felt clean. He’d had to wipe down the mirror with a towel in order to shave, but the face that looked back at him this time felt more like his own. The razor fell into his hands easily, the memory of how to use it came to him as simply as firing the weapons on the shooting range.
Leaving the towels behind, he stepped out into the main room, walking over to one of the drawers he’d explored earlier where he knew he could find some clothing. Rodney was engrossed in something on the computer when John entered the room but he glanced up and then sat gaping open-mouthed at John before snapping his mobile lips shut and ducking his head behind the screen.
John waited, eyebrow raised, for Rodney to lift his head again. He didn’t have to wait long; after a few seconds, Rodney just peeped over the top of the viewscreen, his blue eyes widening when he realized John was watching him. He ducked his head again.
When he looked back over the top of the computer this time, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I know what you are doing, and it won’t work. I’ve got stuff, important stuff, that I’m working on, so you can just forget about it.”
Who me?
“Oh don’t play the innocent with me. I’m surprised anyone buys that act, really, Sheppard. You’re not the only problem I’m working on, you know. I’ve got reports of strange outages coming in from all over and I've got Esposito's reports from earlier to sift through as well.”
John shrugged and turned back to the drawers, opening one and taking out a pair of socks and a set of gray boxer-briefs. He dropped one of the socks on the floor. Ooops.
He bent over from the waist to retrieve it. Behind him, Rodney made a very satisfying choking noise.
John straightened, careful to keep his back turned so that Rodney could not see that he was smiling. The silence in the room grew heavy once more, and when John turned to see what Rodney was doing, he was deeply involved in the computer again. With a sigh, John laid the clothing on the dresser and crossed over towards him, standing beside Rodney’s chair.
Rodney was studiously avoiding looking at him. “Busy here. What part of that do you not understand? And just so you know, I’m working on finding a solution for you.” Rodney did look up at him that time, with an angry glare that made John think perhaps he was wrong about him and Rodney altogether.
Rodney lifted his chin with a snap. “This is all my fault, you know. You, you with the memory loss and the labor camps and the not being able to speak or remember anything.” The anger on his face melted into guilt mixed with loss and sorrow. Rodney wasn’t hard to read either; he was just hard to keep up with.
“You don’t remember, but I was the one who violated Zolon law. No recording devices within 100 meters of the temple, like there were signs posted to that effect. And all violations of the law carry the same punishment: complete wipe of personality. No wonder Zolon boasted of such a low crime rate.”
He pushed his chair back violently from the desk, slouching down in it to rub at his forehead with one hand before glaring at John again. “And you. You had to go and accept the responsibility for my actions yourself-convincing the Zolon that as team leader it was your place to be punished, not mine. Why’d you do that?” Rodney’s voice was anguished, his face twisted with distress.
So you could save me, genius. John reached out and placed a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, squeezing gently and rubbing his thumb in small circles.
Rodney pulled away, suddenly standing up. “I lied back there in the infirmary. I don’t know you, I can’t ‘read’ you. I have no idea what you want from me, Sheppard. I never have.”
Not Sheppard, John.
He reached out for Rodney, taking him by the shoulders and pulling him close. Rodney took a stumbling step towards him and allowed himself to be pulled into John’s embrace, giving a small sigh and bringing a hand up to brush John’s damp skin between his shoulders.
Rodney suddenly stiffened and tried to pull away. “Okay, not only am I supposed to be working on making you better and you’re being terribly distracting, but this is all very reminiscent of taking home a drunk co-ed after a frat party and I am not going to take advantage of you here.”
Like you did frat parties.
“Oh, you have no idea the kinds of things I did in college, Colonel. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who attended frat parties, but let me tell you…”
John interrupted him with a kiss. Rodney made a muffled kind of protest before his mouth opened to let John in. Rodney’s hands suddenly became possessive, clutching at John’s back and pulling him closer, Rodney’s mouth hard and desperate against his own. Instead of resisting, John relaxed his mouth and encouraged Rodney in, humming in approval of the needy thrusts of Rodney’s tongue within John’s mouth.
John dragged his mouth away from Rodney’s, working his way around to Rodney’s jaw and the side of his neck, causing Rodney to tilt his head back and dig in with his fingers at John’s shoulders. John worked at Rodney’s clothes, pulling the hem of his shirt up so that John could get a hand against Rodney’s skin, cupping him through his pants, pulling a groan out of Rodney as he pushed up against John.
“What do you want from me, Sheppard?” Rodney whispered somewhere near John’s left ear.
Breathing heavily, John carefully pulled away from Rodney, trailing his fingers across the skin of Rodney’s abdomen as he stepped back and walked deliberately over to the bed. He knelt on it on his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder at Rodney to see if his intent was clear.
Rodney stood somewhat stupefied, one hand over his cock as though fighting for control as he stared at John. “Um, well, yes, but…I don’t know if you remember things correctly but you usually…you always top.”
Not this time.
John knelt forward until he could take the weight of his upper body on his forehead and reached back with both hands to grab his ass cheeks and spread them wide in invitation.
“Holy crap,” Rodney breathed, and the mildness of his expletive made John chuckle. He continued to hold the position as he listened to Rodney shedding clothes behind him, conducting a running monologue at the same time.
“I’m probably going to burn in hell for this, that is to say if I believed in hell in the first place, and I should really get back to the analysis I was conducting on the implant because it doesn’t make sense that the device would have a reverse option, the Ancients believed in Ascension or death, but you look so amazing like this and it’s definitely all kinds of wrong to be taking advantage of you in your condition but it’s you. How can I resist you?”
And then Rodney’s hands were on him, stroking and kneading and John groaned with the sheer relief in having Rodney touch him at last. He let go of one of his cheeks to reach forward for the nightstand drawer but Rodney said, “I’ve got it,” and leaned across him to open the drawer for the lube, the heavy weight of Rodney’s body making an all-too-brief contact across John’s back. John wanted Rodney back, pressing against him, pressing within him and he shoved his ass up impatiently, seeking more contact.
“Patience is a virtue,” Rodney said in a suspiciously amused tone of voice. John heard the snap of the cap on the lube and shuddered when Rodney’s slick fingers began to circle his hole. He relaxed into the touch, shifting position to rest on his forearms, rocking back into Rodney’s fingers with a groan.
Rodney proceeded to take him apart slowly, teasing John with his fingers, bringing him to the height of one sensation only to withdraw and change his tactics again. He stroked and circled at John’s entrance, he pumped gently inside John with his fingers folded into a point, he flicked a fingertip over John’s prostate. Each new touch had John writhing under Rodney’s hands and he found it hard to believe that he’d never submitted to Rodney’s manipulations in this way before. Why hadn't he done this before?
When he felt Rodney’s warm hands on either side of his hips and the blunt end of Rodney’s cock nudging at his hole, it was all he could do not to thrust up against Rodney and force him to push inside. As it was, Rodney slowly eased himself within; causing John to groan and clutch the bed-sheets as Rodney carefully entered him. When the movement was complete, Rodney lay folded over his back, breathing hard for a moment as he held his position.
John began rocking infinitesimally against him, dragging a heartfelt moan from Rodney’s lips and forcing him to start moving within John. Rodney’s hand snaked under John’s belly and up his chest, holding him close as Rodney stroked and then pinched a nipple between his fingers. John arched up into Rodney’s touch, pleasantly surprised that Rodney knew that he needed that arc of almost-pain to trigger a corresponding rush of sensation to his cock. Rodney continued to tease him with one hand while moving against him with an impossibly slow rhythm, pulling from him wordless sounds when he wanted to say, ‘yeah, like that’ and ‘c’mon Rodney, give it to me’. As though he’d heard John, Rodney began to pound him in earnest, the wet slap of sound of skin against skin and Rodney’s little grunts almost orgasmic in and of itself.
Yes. Yes. Yes!
Rodney’s large hand closed over his cock and John felt himself shudder at the touch. Rodney was in him and around him and he never wanted this moment to end. Rodney knew all the right ways to bring him to the edge though, and he was soon releasing his load into Rodney’s hand. Collapsing down together onto the bed, Rodney picked up the pace, small shudders and the tightening of fingers on John’s shoulder indicating the nearness of his own orgasm.
When he started to mutter “Almost there…” John tried to speak without thinking. ‘Go for it, Rodney,’ he meant to say but the words caused a stabbing pain in his temple and he cried out instead. Rodney cried out as well, shuddering into John with a pulsing warmth that left John soothed and sleepy under Rodney’s weight.
And struggling a little to breathe. After a moment of relishing Rodney’s weight against him, the fullness of him within John’s body, John had to move in order to breathe. Rodney made a small sound of acknowledgment and shifted slowly, pulling out of John’s body and rolling to one side, leaving John with an exquisite sense of loss. John continued to lie face down, feeling Rodney’s come trickle out of his ass, unwilling to move.
Finally he lifted his head. Rodney opened his eyes and smiled at him sleepily and John leaned forward to kiss him, hard.
I love you. He could say the words here in his head that he could never say out loud.
I know, Rodney’s hands replied, lazy against his sweat-dampened skin. John relaxed into the bed again, bringing one arm forward to rest under his head.
They lay this way for several long moments before Rodney suddenly shifted, half rising to look down at John with an intense expression on his face. “It was the Chair, wasn’t it? It was the Chair that removed the implant and the city that instituted the healing process for you. But why?”
John rolled so that he was facing Rodney, reaching out to lightly touch his face. He had no answers.
Soft touches became the barest of finger movements of skin on skin as they both drifted into sleep.
****
The early grey light of dawn woke him, as usual; before his alarm was due to go off. He lay there for a moment, savoring that time between full wakefulness and sleeping, acknowledging the warmth that was Rodney beside him. Yeah, it was pretty stupid letting Rodney stay the night and he had to watch that tendency in him to cave on that particular point. He couldn’t help it; he liked sleeping next to Rodney, though he’d die before he’d ever admit it. Mornings were some of the best times, when he could lazily draw a hand over the pale skin of Rodney’s back and pretend that it was just a prelude to sex. That is wasn’t about the pleasure he got from touching Rodney’s surprisingly soft skin.
Best get up though, before Ronon came looking for him.
Awareness jolted through him.
He was back on Atlantis. He was home. He was Lt. Colonel John Sheppard and he was flirting with disaster by sleeping with his CSO but he knew who he was. He grabbed Rodney by the shoulder and shook him, hard. He opened his mouth to speak Rodney’s name but the pain lanced through his skull as though someone had shoved an ice-pick behind his eye and he yelped, putting a hand to the side of his head.
“What? Oh right, overslept. Sorry, sorry,” Rodney moved on autopilot out of the bed, reaching for clothing scattered on the floor before he looked up sharply at John. “Wait a minute… are you in there? I mean, you you, as opposed to lobotomized you?”
John folded his arms across his chest and glared at Rodney.
His face lit up. John never could get over how expressive Rodney was or that some of the looks Rodney gave were only for him. An evil, mischievous grin stole over Rodney’s features and he said thoughtfully, “You know, I could get used to this. No harassing me out in the field for being too slow. No hovering over my shoulder and asking me if I’m close to finishing whatever project you want me to have done yesterday already. No…”
John rolled over Rodney and landed feet first on the floor, grabbing up Rodney’s shirt and throwing it at him. He made the ‘will you hurry it up for god’s sake’ gesture with his hand and stalked over to the bureau to hastily pull out a uniform and begin to get dressed.
“Oh, I see,” Rodney said in a voice that sounded small and somewhat defeated. “You’re in a hurry this morning.”
John ran a hand through his hair after he’d pulled a black t-shirt over his head, tucking it into the waistband of his BDUs and zipping the fly. He spared a quick glance over at Rodney, who was slowly getting dressed as well. What the hell was eating him? With Rodney it could be hard to tell. It could be that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before or that he was already thinking about breakfast or that his mind was miles deep in some complex problem he was trying to solve.
He liked you better the way you were before.
The realization hit him with the unexpected force of a blow to the head and he was momentarily stunned by the thought until anger surged in behind it. Was that what Rodney wanted? For him to be incapacitated in some way that left him dependent on Rodney?
He knelt quickly to put on his boots, angry beyond all reason, suddenly glad that he still couldn’t speak or he might say something regrettable to Rodney just now, something permanent and irrevocable.
Isn't that what he's afraid of? That one day you'll just get fed up and walk away like everyone else has done in his life?
The thought made him look up sharply in Rodney's direction. Rodney was watching him with solemn eyes that quickly ducked away when they made contact with John's.
Am I really that much of an asshole?
John was doubly glad that at that moment, he was unable to speak-that he wasn't expected to say something right now. The last thing he wanted to do now was discuss his feelings, for chrissake. He was still operating on less than full capacity thanks to the uber-controlling Zolon, there was still something weird going on within the city that he couldn't exactly pinpoint. Or even begin to explain.
As usual, the way he felt about things had to come last on his list of priorities.
****
To Dumbstruck part 4.
Dumbstruck part 2 is here.
Dumbstruck
Part Three
The lack of ability to communicate was really starting to frustrate John. Ever since he’d become aware of his current existence, not being able to speak was simply the way he was, a fact of life. But now, for the first time, his inability to articulate his thoughts and emotions gnawed at him.
They’d had him change into some sort of lightweight clothing this time, the kind of thing you’d wear to sleep in, but he noticed that several of the personnel were wearing similar outfits so he figured that it had to do with being in the infirmary. Whatever the purpose behind the red pajama set, he realized they did not intend to let him out of the infirmary again today. He found himself irritably smacking away Keller’s hands when she helped him back to bed, replacing the monitoring devices on his body.
“My,” she said archly, “someone is cranky. I think maybe you’ve stayed up too long past your bedtime.”
He wasn’t sure exactly what sort of look he’d given her but she suddenly backpedaled and held up a hand in peace. “I’m sorry, Colonel Sheppard, but I really do think you need to rest now. It’s been a long day for you, don’t you think?”
He sighed and nodded, acquiescing quietly to her ministrations and lying back on the pillow. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, causing him to look up at her.
“Don’t worry, Colonel. I’ve been in Pegasus long enough to know that Rodney McKay is a very determined man when it comes to problem solving. I’m sure he’ll find a way to fix things. In the meantime, get some rest and when you wake I’ll see about sending someone to get you some dinner.” She moved off with a smile.
He watched her go, feeling his eyelids drooping with fatigue and relaxing into the soft, sweet-smelling bedding. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a so nice a bed and unbidden an image came into his mind-he was in a room with a clean, white light pouring in from open windows, a sea breeze lifting billowing curtains playfully, a warm body curled against his side. He could feel the heavy weight of someone’s arm across his chest, the fingers that moved lazily against his bare skin, the leg that pushed in-between his own, toes curling and unfurling sleepily. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the interested push of a slowly awakening cock against his ass and the answering warmth it roused in him. He knew the hand that was warm and inquiring against his skin, knew the scent of the person behind him and recognized the feel of the skin beneath his own hands.
It was Rodney.
He was jolted into wakefulness by the sound of voices around him.
“Easy now, laddie,” Carson was saying in that delightful accent that somehow reminded John of home in ways he did not understand. John turned his head and saw Carson directing a medical technician who was assisting him in helping a patient into the bed next to John.
The young man had the bearing and haircut that spoke to John of military, he looked a bit banged up, but not too seriously injured. His arm was bandaged and there was bruising on his face. He acknowledged John with weary eyes, starting to sit up straighter and bring his hand up in a sketchy sort of gesture towards John, but Carson forestalled him. “The Colonel won’t mind if you don’t salute him this time, lad,” he said soothingly.
“Yeah, the Colonel’s like that,” the young man agreed with a goofy sort of grin on his face. “He’ll cut you all kinds of slack on stuff he doesn’t think is important, but woe be unto you if you screw up on something he does think’s important.” The soldier’s words started to slur a little. “Your ass is grass if you don’t protect the geeks on your team and he’s the motherfucking lawnmower.” The soldier gave John a cheerful nod.
Carson made a sort of choking noise and shot a look full of amusement in John’s direction. John responded with a ‘who me?’ gesture because really, what the hell was a ‘geek’?
“There now, son,” Carson was saying to the soldier in the bed next to John. “You get some rest.”
The young man yawned widely and closed his eyes.
“Everything alright then, Colonel?” Carson turned to John with a tired smile.
He rolled his palm where it lay across his lap, lifting a couple of fingers upward in a sort of mini-shrug, trying to convey, ‘not too bad for a guy who can’t remember much’. Carson just nodded as though he’d understood.
“You get some rest too, Colonel,” Carson said with mock sternness. “That’s an order.”
John knew that orders were something he was supposed to obey, but thought perhaps Carson was making fun of him for some reason. He wished that Rodney or Teyla or Ronon were around. Things seemed to make more sense when they were there.
He positively itched to be doing something, anything but lie there in bed when he no longer felt sleepy. He was tired, exhausted really, by the constant barrage of new input into his brain. He could feel a pull, a soporific request from some part of his mind, urging him to forget all that he’d learned, that it really wasn’t important, that it was holding him back.
Holding him back from what?
The pull on his mind subsided, as though it couldn’t bear direct scrutiny.
Instead, he became aware of a murmuring at the back of his mind, whisper-soft like the sounds of the sea coming through his open windows in the room of his memory. As he concentrated, the noise began to swell, to take form. It was an orchestra of sensation: music thrumming through his veins, with mathematics providing a high, clear counterpoint, and ten thousand years of stars just within his reach and the brush of fingers against his brow.
He shivered at the feelings that ran though him. Too much. Not enough. Like being just on the edge of orgasm but not quite there. Reaching for it, feeling the tension build, climbing like the car of a rollercoaster approaching the top of the hill, knowing the ecstatic release was almost there…
Come to us.
The voice in his head was as clear as the welcome he’d received on his arrival in the city and it felt both right and wrong at the same time.
Please. We need you.
There was no such thing as need, his mind insisted. There was only being. There was only this, the days that he could remember; there was nothing else. He needed to let go, to fly away, to embrace the nothingness.
We need your help.
Something within him flicked to attention at the plea. He felt another pull, stronger, more insistent this time, as a flood of memories rushed back into him-small glimpses into another life, as seen through a camera’s lens, illuminated in brief, lightening flashes of insight. He and Rodney sitting together on the edge of the pier in the moonlight. Laughing with his family over something silly said at breakfast in the mess hall. Rodney’s hands providing a stage show to accompany whatever explanation he was giving with excitement. Teyla circling him in a small workout room, short rods in her hands, a feral smile on her face as she moved to attack as though she were inviting John to dance. Ronon, crouched behind a tree, rain soaking through the canopy overhead to darken his clothes as he turned to John and signaled how many enemy combatants they faced. Rodney, a smear of blood on his face from several small cuts, as though from flying glass, frantically working over a console and shouting over his shoulder, “I need just a few more minutes!”
John jerked awake again, to find himself surrounded by the quiet sounds of the infirmary at rest, the lights dimmed, the machinery a soft hum, not unlike the noise in his head. The soldier in the opposite bed was asleep. The need to be up and moving was a physical force that John could no longer deny.
He started to toss back the covers and swing out of bed before he realized he was still attached to some sort of machine. He began pulling at the wires connected to the sticky pads on his forehead. An alarm immediately sounded and John quickly slapped the pad back on his skin, lying down and closing his eyes. He sensed someone coming partway into the room to check on him and breathed a sigh of relief when they did nothing more than give him a cursory glance before leaving again.
Thinking furiously, John waited a few minutes and briefly detached the pads again. As before, the person on duty came into the room, but this time she came over to the machine and checked the settings, grumbling slightly under her breath all the way. John watched her through half-slit eyelids as she fussed with the machine and then after she left, he slowly counted to 100 and disturbed the pads again.
This time the medtech came stomping into the room with a huff. After checking the machine again, she leaned over John to check the pads themselves, pressing one gently against his forehead, making sure it was placed properly, he guessed.
The next time he fiddled with the pads, she did not come. The alarm shut off within thirty seconds of his replacing the pads. He counted to 500, and then rapidly rolled out of bed, slapping the pads on the forehead of the man sleeping in the next bed and holding his breath as he waited.
No one came.
With a grin he gathered his other clothing and silently padded out of the room on bare feet.
First stop was a supply closet where he shed the pajamas and quickly dressed in his usual clothes. His uniform. It was more than the realization that the red pajama-thingys would make it obvious that he belonged in the infirmary-these clothes felt right, felt like a second skin. He hesitated in the doorway of the supply room on exiting, unsure of which direction to go.
A floor panel to his right lit up briefly. As he walked towards it, another one, some distance ahead, did the same. He began to trot along the quiet hallways at a half-jog, keeping an ear out for anyone who might also be heading his way, but hurrying to keep up with the ghostly directions, which seemed to be appearing and fading faster. When he reached a t-intersection in the corridor, a wall panel lit up with an arrowhead pointing the way. Nodding to himself, he took the darker pathway, following the curving corridor to where it ended at a transporter. Feeling just a little bit like a he was going against the rules, he took hold of the handle and ‘thought’ where he wanted to go-to follow the directions of his unseen guide. The doors slid shut soundlessly and opened almost immediately into another dark hallway.
The pull was stronger now, and he rode the wave of it without thinking to his destination.
Yes. Yes. Yes!
****
“Where the hell have you been?” Rodney’s angry voice startled him into wakefulness and the Chair suddenly rocked back into an upright position. His neck had a crick in it from where he’d curled up on his side in the Chair; he rubbed at it now, frowning crossly at Rodney and slowly, stiffly, straightening out his position. Where do you think I was, genius?
“Oh don’t start with me,” Rodney continued to harangue him, fists on hips, looking really pissed. For a second, John thought Rodney had heard his thoughts or that he’d possibly spoken out loud. “You had everyone freaking out looking for you and here you are, down in the Chair room, like the controls of the city are just one big Barcalounger to you.”
John held up a hand near his face and made it talk at Rodney.
“Don’t you ‘blah, blah, blah’ me, Sheppard. Don’t you get it? People are really worried about you.” He looked around, frowningly. “Just what the hell brought you down here anyway?” He turned back to glare at John once more and then his expression changed to one of astonishment. He crossed to John’s side in two strides, taking him by the chin and turning his head to the side. “The implant! It’s gone…” Rodney dropped John’s jaw to look around the Chair for the implant. Spying it on the floor, he reached down for it. John struck out sharply, grabbing Rodney’s fingers painfully before they could close over the implant.
“Ow! Let go!” he complained. His expression softened as he looked up into John’s face. “Seriously, John, I’ll be careful. I need to see it though.”
John tightened the lips that could not explain what Rodney needed to hear and shook his head. With his free hand, he pointed at his eyes. Satisfied that he had Rodney’s attention, he relinquished his hold as they both straightened. Demonstrating a small circle with thumb and forefinger, he mimed attaching it to his head.
“Yes, yes, you broke out of the infirmary by placing your leads on Lt. Deveraux. Very clever. Carson was having kittens when I got the call from the infirmary.”
John struggled with that mental image and let it go, but not before he briefly pictured the man with the odd accent sitting in a chair, covered with small furry creatures that were vocalizing in a plaintive sort of way. Shaking his head to both rid himself of the image as well as disagree with Rodney as to the point he was trying to make, he mimed the circles again, this time placing them on Rodney’s forehead and then, touching middle finger to thumb, he held his arms out from his sides loosely, closed his eyes and hummed in a low monotone. He then opened one eye slightly to see if Rodney was following him.
“I hate to tell you, Colonel, but even when you could speak, Charades really wasn’t your best game,” Rodney’s expression and tone were sour. John pointed to his eyes again and snapped his fingers impatiently at Rodney before going through the actions again. When he saw that Rodney was frowning at him intently, John pointed to the implant and repeated the whole sequence once more, his gestures becoming more emphatic.
“Ohmygod,” Rodney breathed the sentence out all as one word. “It’s another Ascension device.”
John beamed at him, pleased that Rodney picked up on what he was trying to say.
“Come with me,” Rodney took him roughly by the arm and began dragging him towards the door.
****
“So you’re telling us that despite evidence of unusual healing on these most recent scans, the Colonel still can’t talk and is not in complete control of his memories.” Rodney sounded angry.
John looked up from where he was sitting on the side of the infirmary bed, studying the toes of his boots and wondering how much longer the discussion of his medical condition was going to continue. He’d never gotten anything to eat for dinner, he was pretty tired too. His head felt better though and he realized he’d been unaware of the low-level headache until it was no longer there. He’d been starting to kick his feet against the side of the bed in boredom when Rodney’s words had caught his attention.
“Perhaps he just needs more time. After all, the implant has been removed and we have no idea how that was achieved,” Teyla said calmly, glancing at Carson for confirmation. She somehow looked fresh and alert, as though it were not the middle of the night and she’d not been out looking for John along with everyone else.
Carson scratched the side of his ear. “I canna tell you, either of you, what to expect from here on out. We’re in unexplored territory. I can tell you this: these most recent scans are nothing like the ones taken from this morning. It does confirm my theory that the implant was causing the damage.”
“Most likely suppressing his memories to make it easier for him to leave everything he cares about behind and Ascend. Bastards.”
“Rodney,” Elizabeth said reprovingly. Unlike Teyla, she looked tired, and John felt guilty for adding to her burdens.
“Well they are. Not satisfied with merely withdrawing from this worldly existence, they had to go and keep creating technological shortcuts to attain the highest level of spirituality. I’m not a religious man myself, but I think that counts as cheating.” Rodney’s expression suddenly caved in on itself and he turned to Carson, fear plainly etched in his voice. “He’s not still on the road to Ascension, is he?”
“I dinna think so,” Carson said slowly. “If anything, I’d say he seems more aware and more like himself. The scans certainly suggest healing and not more damage. Though how that implant came out and the healing was achieved is anybody’s guess. My belief is that if he were not an ATA carrier however, the use of this technology would have been like lobotomizing him. Which is why the Zolon found it an effective means of inflicting punishment and managing their prisoners.”
“Sheppard,” Ronon rumbled suddenly, causing John to look over at him. “You know who you are?”
“What kind of question is that?” Rodney complained. “Not that he could answer you anyway. Or that he had the best grasp on that concept in the first place.”
“Rodney.” The way Elizabeth laid emphasis on his name indicated that she was irritated with him. She looked encouragingly at John and he realized she was hoping for an answer to Ronon’s question. He made a face and shrugged.
“You see? He made the ‘I’m fine’ face, which I’ve seen him give under every circumstance from ‘gee, we almost crashed the puddlejumper’ to ‘I think I’m turning into a giant bug’, to ‘no, I didn’t notice the three foot slab of wood impaling my abdomen but I think it missed my kidneys.’ You’re not going to be able to get much from that.”
Elizabeth looked at him curiously. “Just how is it that you are able to read the Colonel so well, Rodney?”
Rodney flushed. “Well, you know. We spend a lot of time together in the field, that sort of thing. He has this whole secret hand language that took me ages to figure out, but I've got it down now. Besides, he’s only got five expressions to begin with.”
Insulted, John leaned out and gibbsmacked Rodney in the head.
“Oh, c’mon, you know what I mean. I didn’t say that you weren’t extremely versatile in the use of those five expressions. You weren’t exactly the most articulate person before all this, you know,” Rodney sounded cross with him but he looked upset.
Articulate this. John flipped him the bird.
There was a ripple of suppressed amusement in the room and then Ronon said, “I dunno, seems he’s doing pretty well getting his point across to me.”
“Why don’t we all call it a night?” Elizabeth suggested. “It’s late and I don’t think there’s anything more to be learned here this evening. Who knows, perhaps John will have regained more of his memories by the morning.”
“I just hate not being able to do anything constructive,” Rodney grumbled, not quite sotto voice.
“Carson,” Teyla spoke suddenly as everyone was preparing to depart the room. “Perhaps the Colonel would be more likely to recover more of his memories if he stayed the remainder of the night in his own quarters?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Teyla,” Carson began but Rodney interrupted.
“No, no, she’s right. Besides, what are you going to do if he decides to leave again? Chain him to the bed?”
John felt his muscles bunch and tighten, ready to act if he needed to move quickly. “Look at him,” Rodney pointed, triumphant in his argument. “You think you can keep him here if he really wants to go? Without physical restraints, that is?”
“As if I ever could,” Carson muttered. He appeared to be considering Teyla’s suggestion for a moment and then sighed, accepting that he was ignoring his better judgment. “Very well then, he can go back to his quarters but one of you must stay with him at all times,” he added sternly. “And he comes back here first thing in the morning.”
With a collective sigh of relief, the team left the room.
****
Without any discussion at all, the team apparently decided that Rodney would be the one to stay the remainder of the night with John, which was okay by him. Entering his quarters was a weird experience; things that should have seemed familiar did not and yet other, innocuous items evoked the oddest memories.
Odder still, was the fact that Rodney seemed hell-bent on ignoring him. After bustling John into the room and gauging his reactions, Rodney had pushed him none-too-gently in the direction of the bed. “Go to sleep now. I’ve got work to do.”
Somehow, that seemed very familiar.
John ignored Rodney in return, wandering around the room, randomly opening drawers and poking at items he found within. When he entered what appeared to be a small bathing and toilet area, he stood looking at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment. He looked scruffy and disreputable, with his hair too long and hanging down over his eyes and two-week’s worth of beard covering his lower face and jaw. The side of his head where the implant had been looked a little puckered and angry, but it was no longer sore to the touch. He played with the controls in the cubicle until he determined how to get hot water flowing and he suddenly felt the need to take a cleansing bath. Not able to stopper the shallow stall so that it would fill with water, he was pleasantly surprised he could make it rain instead. No, shower.
Twenty minutes later, the room filled with steam, he finally felt clean. He’d had to wipe down the mirror with a towel in order to shave, but the face that looked back at him this time felt more like his own. The razor fell into his hands easily, the memory of how to use it came to him as simply as firing the weapons on the shooting range.
Leaving the towels behind, he stepped out into the main room, walking over to one of the drawers he’d explored earlier where he knew he could find some clothing. Rodney was engrossed in something on the computer when John entered the room but he glanced up and then sat gaping open-mouthed at John before snapping his mobile lips shut and ducking his head behind the screen.
John waited, eyebrow raised, for Rodney to lift his head again. He didn’t have to wait long; after a few seconds, Rodney just peeped over the top of the viewscreen, his blue eyes widening when he realized John was watching him. He ducked his head again.
When he looked back over the top of the computer this time, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I know what you are doing, and it won’t work. I’ve got stuff, important stuff, that I’m working on, so you can just forget about it.”
Who me?
“Oh don’t play the innocent with me. I’m surprised anyone buys that act, really, Sheppard. You’re not the only problem I’m working on, you know. I’ve got reports of strange outages coming in from all over and I've got Esposito's reports from earlier to sift through as well.”
John shrugged and turned back to the drawers, opening one and taking out a pair of socks and a set of gray boxer-briefs. He dropped one of the socks on the floor. Ooops.
He bent over from the waist to retrieve it. Behind him, Rodney made a very satisfying choking noise.
John straightened, careful to keep his back turned so that Rodney could not see that he was smiling. The silence in the room grew heavy once more, and when John turned to see what Rodney was doing, he was deeply involved in the computer again. With a sigh, John laid the clothing on the dresser and crossed over towards him, standing beside Rodney’s chair.
Rodney was studiously avoiding looking at him. “Busy here. What part of that do you not understand? And just so you know, I’m working on finding a solution for you.” Rodney did look up at him that time, with an angry glare that made John think perhaps he was wrong about him and Rodney altogether.
Rodney lifted his chin with a snap. “This is all my fault, you know. You, you with the memory loss and the labor camps and the not being able to speak or remember anything.” The anger on his face melted into guilt mixed with loss and sorrow. Rodney wasn’t hard to read either; he was just hard to keep up with.
“You don’t remember, but I was the one who violated Zolon law. No recording devices within 100 meters of the temple, like there were signs posted to that effect. And all violations of the law carry the same punishment: complete wipe of personality. No wonder Zolon boasted of such a low crime rate.”
He pushed his chair back violently from the desk, slouching down in it to rub at his forehead with one hand before glaring at John again. “And you. You had to go and accept the responsibility for my actions yourself-convincing the Zolon that as team leader it was your place to be punished, not mine. Why’d you do that?” Rodney’s voice was anguished, his face twisted with distress.
So you could save me, genius. John reached out and placed a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, squeezing gently and rubbing his thumb in small circles.
Rodney pulled away, suddenly standing up. “I lied back there in the infirmary. I don’t know you, I can’t ‘read’ you. I have no idea what you want from me, Sheppard. I never have.”
Not Sheppard, John.
He reached out for Rodney, taking him by the shoulders and pulling him close. Rodney took a stumbling step towards him and allowed himself to be pulled into John’s embrace, giving a small sigh and bringing a hand up to brush John’s damp skin between his shoulders.
Rodney suddenly stiffened and tried to pull away. “Okay, not only am I supposed to be working on making you better and you’re being terribly distracting, but this is all very reminiscent of taking home a drunk co-ed after a frat party and I am not going to take advantage of you here.”
Like you did frat parties.
“Oh, you have no idea the kinds of things I did in college, Colonel. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who attended frat parties, but let me tell you…”
John interrupted him with a kiss. Rodney made a muffled kind of protest before his mouth opened to let John in. Rodney’s hands suddenly became possessive, clutching at John’s back and pulling him closer, Rodney’s mouth hard and desperate against his own. Instead of resisting, John relaxed his mouth and encouraged Rodney in, humming in approval of the needy thrusts of Rodney’s tongue within John’s mouth.
John dragged his mouth away from Rodney’s, working his way around to Rodney’s jaw and the side of his neck, causing Rodney to tilt his head back and dig in with his fingers at John’s shoulders. John worked at Rodney’s clothes, pulling the hem of his shirt up so that John could get a hand against Rodney’s skin, cupping him through his pants, pulling a groan out of Rodney as he pushed up against John.
“What do you want from me, Sheppard?” Rodney whispered somewhere near John’s left ear.
Breathing heavily, John carefully pulled away from Rodney, trailing his fingers across the skin of Rodney’s abdomen as he stepped back and walked deliberately over to the bed. He knelt on it on his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder at Rodney to see if his intent was clear.
Rodney stood somewhat stupefied, one hand over his cock as though fighting for control as he stared at John. “Um, well, yes, but…I don’t know if you remember things correctly but you usually…you always top.”
Not this time.
John knelt forward until he could take the weight of his upper body on his forehead and reached back with both hands to grab his ass cheeks and spread them wide in invitation.
“Holy crap,” Rodney breathed, and the mildness of his expletive made John chuckle. He continued to hold the position as he listened to Rodney shedding clothes behind him, conducting a running monologue at the same time.
“I’m probably going to burn in hell for this, that is to say if I believed in hell in the first place, and I should really get back to the analysis I was conducting on the implant because it doesn’t make sense that the device would have a reverse option, the Ancients believed in Ascension or death, but you look so amazing like this and it’s definitely all kinds of wrong to be taking advantage of you in your condition but it’s you. How can I resist you?”
And then Rodney’s hands were on him, stroking and kneading and John groaned with the sheer relief in having Rodney touch him at last. He let go of one of his cheeks to reach forward for the nightstand drawer but Rodney said, “I’ve got it,” and leaned across him to open the drawer for the lube, the heavy weight of Rodney’s body making an all-too-brief contact across John’s back. John wanted Rodney back, pressing against him, pressing within him and he shoved his ass up impatiently, seeking more contact.
“Patience is a virtue,” Rodney said in a suspiciously amused tone of voice. John heard the snap of the cap on the lube and shuddered when Rodney’s slick fingers began to circle his hole. He relaxed into the touch, shifting position to rest on his forearms, rocking back into Rodney’s fingers with a groan.
Rodney proceeded to take him apart slowly, teasing John with his fingers, bringing him to the height of one sensation only to withdraw and change his tactics again. He stroked and circled at John’s entrance, he pumped gently inside John with his fingers folded into a point, he flicked a fingertip over John’s prostate. Each new touch had John writhing under Rodney’s hands and he found it hard to believe that he’d never submitted to Rodney’s manipulations in this way before. Why hadn't he done this before?
When he felt Rodney’s warm hands on either side of his hips and the blunt end of Rodney’s cock nudging at his hole, it was all he could do not to thrust up against Rodney and force him to push inside. As it was, Rodney slowly eased himself within; causing John to groan and clutch the bed-sheets as Rodney carefully entered him. When the movement was complete, Rodney lay folded over his back, breathing hard for a moment as he held his position.
John began rocking infinitesimally against him, dragging a heartfelt moan from Rodney’s lips and forcing him to start moving within John. Rodney’s hand snaked under John’s belly and up his chest, holding him close as Rodney stroked and then pinched a nipple between his fingers. John arched up into Rodney’s touch, pleasantly surprised that Rodney knew that he needed that arc of almost-pain to trigger a corresponding rush of sensation to his cock. Rodney continued to tease him with one hand while moving against him with an impossibly slow rhythm, pulling from him wordless sounds when he wanted to say, ‘yeah, like that’ and ‘c’mon Rodney, give it to me’. As though he’d heard John, Rodney began to pound him in earnest, the wet slap of sound of skin against skin and Rodney’s little grunts almost orgasmic in and of itself.
Yes. Yes. Yes!
Rodney’s large hand closed over his cock and John felt himself shudder at the touch. Rodney was in him and around him and he never wanted this moment to end. Rodney knew all the right ways to bring him to the edge though, and he was soon releasing his load into Rodney’s hand. Collapsing down together onto the bed, Rodney picked up the pace, small shudders and the tightening of fingers on John’s shoulder indicating the nearness of his own orgasm.
When he started to mutter “Almost there…” John tried to speak without thinking. ‘Go for it, Rodney,’ he meant to say but the words caused a stabbing pain in his temple and he cried out instead. Rodney cried out as well, shuddering into John with a pulsing warmth that left John soothed and sleepy under Rodney’s weight.
And struggling a little to breathe. After a moment of relishing Rodney’s weight against him, the fullness of him within John’s body, John had to move in order to breathe. Rodney made a small sound of acknowledgment and shifted slowly, pulling out of John’s body and rolling to one side, leaving John with an exquisite sense of loss. John continued to lie face down, feeling Rodney’s come trickle out of his ass, unwilling to move.
Finally he lifted his head. Rodney opened his eyes and smiled at him sleepily and John leaned forward to kiss him, hard.
I love you. He could say the words here in his head that he could never say out loud.
I know, Rodney’s hands replied, lazy against his sweat-dampened skin. John relaxed into the bed again, bringing one arm forward to rest under his head.
They lay this way for several long moments before Rodney suddenly shifted, half rising to look down at John with an intense expression on his face. “It was the Chair, wasn’t it? It was the Chair that removed the implant and the city that instituted the healing process for you. But why?”
John rolled so that he was facing Rodney, reaching out to lightly touch his face. He had no answers.
Soft touches became the barest of finger movements of skin on skin as they both drifted into sleep.
****
The early grey light of dawn woke him, as usual; before his alarm was due to go off. He lay there for a moment, savoring that time between full wakefulness and sleeping, acknowledging the warmth that was Rodney beside him. Yeah, it was pretty stupid letting Rodney stay the night and he had to watch that tendency in him to cave on that particular point. He couldn’t help it; he liked sleeping next to Rodney, though he’d die before he’d ever admit it. Mornings were some of the best times, when he could lazily draw a hand over the pale skin of Rodney’s back and pretend that it was just a prelude to sex. That is wasn’t about the pleasure he got from touching Rodney’s surprisingly soft skin.
Best get up though, before Ronon came looking for him.
Awareness jolted through him.
He was back on Atlantis. He was home. He was Lt. Colonel John Sheppard and he was flirting with disaster by sleeping with his CSO but he knew who he was. He grabbed Rodney by the shoulder and shook him, hard. He opened his mouth to speak Rodney’s name but the pain lanced through his skull as though someone had shoved an ice-pick behind his eye and he yelped, putting a hand to the side of his head.
“What? Oh right, overslept. Sorry, sorry,” Rodney moved on autopilot out of the bed, reaching for clothing scattered on the floor before he looked up sharply at John. “Wait a minute… are you in there? I mean, you you, as opposed to lobotomized you?”
John folded his arms across his chest and glared at Rodney.
His face lit up. John never could get over how expressive Rodney was or that some of the looks Rodney gave were only for him. An evil, mischievous grin stole over Rodney’s features and he said thoughtfully, “You know, I could get used to this. No harassing me out in the field for being too slow. No hovering over my shoulder and asking me if I’m close to finishing whatever project you want me to have done yesterday already. No…”
John rolled over Rodney and landed feet first on the floor, grabbing up Rodney’s shirt and throwing it at him. He made the ‘will you hurry it up for god’s sake’ gesture with his hand and stalked over to the bureau to hastily pull out a uniform and begin to get dressed.
“Oh, I see,” Rodney said in a voice that sounded small and somewhat defeated. “You’re in a hurry this morning.”
John ran a hand through his hair after he’d pulled a black t-shirt over his head, tucking it into the waistband of his BDUs and zipping the fly. He spared a quick glance over at Rodney, who was slowly getting dressed as well. What the hell was eating him? With Rodney it could be hard to tell. It could be that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before or that he was already thinking about breakfast or that his mind was miles deep in some complex problem he was trying to solve.
He liked you better the way you were before.
The realization hit him with the unexpected force of a blow to the head and he was momentarily stunned by the thought until anger surged in behind it. Was that what Rodney wanted? For him to be incapacitated in some way that left him dependent on Rodney?
He knelt quickly to put on his boots, angry beyond all reason, suddenly glad that he still couldn’t speak or he might say something regrettable to Rodney just now, something permanent and irrevocable.
Isn't that what he's afraid of? That one day you'll just get fed up and walk away like everyone else has done in his life?
The thought made him look up sharply in Rodney's direction. Rodney was watching him with solemn eyes that quickly ducked away when they made contact with John's.
Am I really that much of an asshole?
John was doubly glad that at that moment, he was unable to speak-that he wasn't expected to say something right now. The last thing he wanted to do now was discuss his feelings, for chrissake. He was still operating on less than full capacity thanks to the uber-controlling Zolon, there was still something weird going on within the city that he couldn't exactly pinpoint. Or even begin to explain.
As usual, the way he felt about things had to come last on his list of priorities.
****
To Dumbstruck part 4.