"That was stupid, Sheppard," Sumner yelled as soon as they were clear of Elizabeth's isolation tent. Carson was busy shuttling Sheppard into a plastic case of his own, but Sumner kept a half step behind, careful not to get in the way, careful not to touch him.
"She needs to keep fighting," Sheppard snapped as Carson zipped him in. "She needs to know we're here for her!"
"She knows!" Sumner shot back. "Now stop taking stupid risks! With your life and with hers!"
Sheppard's eyes narrowed as he fired back, "You're just afraid I love her more than you do."
Mack hauled in a breath, feeling sucker-punched. His hands fisted. "You young fuck. I'm afraid I'm going to lose both of you." Sheppard's eyebrows damn near hit his hairline, about the same time Mack's brain caught up. "Colonel. You will stay put until Carson clears you of any and all contamination. That is anorder. Do you understand?"
Sheppard nodded, and Mack headed for the door, his pace just slow enough that he couldn't be accused of fleeing. If he spent the next several hours watching the infirmary feed over his laptop, that wasn't anyone's business but his own.
Elizabeth came to him first, sitting down next to him and taking one of his hands in both of hers. He had thought it would be Sheppard, but then again, he should have known better.
He stroked his thumb across her palm and waited for her to speak. She knew everything that went on in her city - it didn't surprise him that she'd know this as well.
"Do you love me?" she asked eventually.
"You know I do," he answered immediately.
"Do you blame John for doing the same?"
"No," he said, squeezing her hand tightly. "I blame myself."
She brushed a finger against his wrist and he closed his eyes, fighting the urge to pull away. He wanted to be angry. He didn't have the energy to lie to himself. "Mack," Elizabeth said, and he looked up to see the side of her mouth quirked, her eyes tired and sad and a little impatient. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
"Hey," he protested, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I'm not the one who broke into a quarantine and...." His voice failed. His hand trembled against her skin and he dropped it to his side.
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the corner of his mouth, then nestled her cheek against his. "Do you love him?" she murmured in his ear, so softly he almost believed he imagined the words.
Mack drew back and looked her square in the eyes. "Do you?"
"Yes," she said after a moment. "Not the way I love you. But this city, this galaxy, it gets under your skin. It's under my skin. It's under his. I can't not."
"Nah," came a voice from the door, and Mack jumped back so fast his neck hurt. Sheppard stood there, hands fisted at his side, belying the drawl in his voice. "Why bother?"
Elizabeth stood, awkward, cheeks flushed. "John," she tried, hand reaching out and then falling to her side, gesture aborted.
Mack supposed he should be similarly concerned, but he was just too tired. "He's right, 'Lizabeth," he said, leaning forward and running a hand over his mouth. "Why bother. Life's too..." he paused, and found himself unable to finish.
"Too short," Sheppard supplied, voice rough, and stepped into the room.
"Close the door," Mack said and Sheppard took another step, letting the door snap shut behind him. He glanced up and saw Elizabeth press her teeth into her bottom lip. It was a gentle gesture, a tell he'd learned only after two years of watching her.
He pushed himself to his feet and something warmed in his chest as Elizabeth reached over to him. He caught her hand and tangled their fingers together. She was still his, she still loved him. This was more, not less.
"I don't play well with others," he said, extending their joined hands to Sheppard.
"Yeah, well," Sheppard said. "You've seen my record."
Mack stiffened at the reminder; Sheppard - Mack could see it in the faint shift in the set of his mouth.
It was Elizabeth, unsurprisingly, who carried them past it. "I have. That's why you're here." She moved to Sheppard; Mack tried to let go, but she just tightened her fingers. She drew John to her, ran her fingers along his jaw. Sheppard shivered, but his eyes were watching Mack. Elizabeth turned, looked at Mack dead on - he matched her, stare for stare. "Both of you," she said, and pulled him to them.
"Both of you," Sheppard repeated. He sounded wary. Testing. Questioning. His fingertips brushed Elizabeth's wrist but his eyes were steady on Mack.
Mack knew that look. It was Sheppard's game face, the studied neutrality that hid just about anything, and everything, of worth. He knew that look well. He had one of his own.
He closed the distance, one arm sliding around Elizabeth's waist, a familiar curve, and the other cuffing Sheppard's neck, an unknown plane. Arm's length was relative to the angle of one's elbow and he'd kept Sheppard at arm's length long enough.
Under his palm, Sheppard shuddered, hard, dropping his head to rest against Mack's, even as Elizabeth relaxed into Mack's arm, her head against his shoulder. Wrapped in the feel and taste of them, solid, living proof that they weren't dead, that yet again, they'd all made it through, it was too much and not enough. He closed his eyes, held them close - held on.
Elizabeth's hand brushed against the small of his back, swept along his spine, her touch firm and sure and intimately familiar. Sheppard turned in Mack's grip; callused, blunt fingers cupped his cheek, then paused.
Mack knew the question and had no desire to go through his life history with Sheppard. He turned his head and pressed his mouth against Sheppard's hand. The skin was dry and warm, tougher than Elizabeth's, and tasted different…saltier, a little bit bitter. He took a deep breath of Sheppard's scent, shaken by how immediate and visceral his reaction had been. I can do this, he thought. Easy.
"Kiss her," he told Sheppard, a rush of arousal letting him know just how much he wanted to see that. "Let me watch you kiss her."
John drew back slightly, turning to Elizabeth. She studied Mack, eyes clear; kissed him before stepping into John's arms. Mack licked his lips as one dark head bent to the other, tasted John-and-Elizabeth as he watched, realizing that Elizabeth was right: the two of them - Atlantis was theirs, deep in their bones. Their hands tangled in each other's hair; John groaned as Elizabeth deepened the kiss, slipped a leg between hers, laughing when she arched into the pressure. It was Mack's next thought that sent him forward, unwilling to wait any longer: Atlantis was theirs, but they were his.
They were wound together, so tight he couldn't imagine splitting them. So he embraced them both, spreading his fingers under the waistbands of their shirts. Elizabeth's ribs bumped under his thumb as he pressed his palm to her stomach, and John's spine smoothed out as Mack's hand slipped down. He closed his eyes as he curved his hand possessively over the swell of John's ass. He'd snapped plenty of towels in his time, but never had he been able to just touch and hold and linger.
He almost didn't hear Elizabeth say, "Now I want to see him kiss you."
The words registered right around the time John's hand curved around his neck; Mack couldn't say if his response was actually voluntary or not, because it seemed natural as breathing to brush his mouth against John's, again and again, as John's thumb pressed against the base of his skull. John pulled back, tongue flicking out to wet his lips, and Mack felt himself smile - Sheppard looked damn near poleaxed.
A hitch in Elizabeth's breathing made him turn, just in time to watch her tug her shirt over her head, and then it was Mack's turn to stare.
"Good God," he breathed. Then, to John, he added, "Hope you're paying attention, kid, because you ain't gonna see anything that pretty in the rest of your days."
"I'm not missing a second," John assured him, folding their fingers together and reaching out. Their fingertips brushed together over the edges of Elizabeth's bra and then John moved behind her, pulling Mack's palm under the swell. The cups slackened in his palms and John smiled over Elizabeth's shoulders as the straps slipped down her arms. John pulled it away and dropped it to the floor.
Elizabeth slipped into Mack's arms easily as breathing. He wound his hand in her hair, running a hand down her spine and savoring the feel of her against him, grinning at the shiver of breath down his back as he kissed along the line of her shoulder. He bit gently where her pulse leaped, and suddenly she pulled back, her hands against his chest.
"You're here," she murmured, eyes wild. She glanced over his shoulder, clearly seeking out John. "Oh, thank God, you're both here." When she kissed him, hard and desperate and wanting, he could feel her shaking.
"She needs to keep fighting," Sheppard snapped as Carson zipped him in. "She needs to know we're here for her!"
"She knows!" Sumner shot back. "Now stop taking stupid risks! With your life and with hers!"
Sheppard's eyes narrowed as he fired back, "You're just afraid I love her more than you do."
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Sheppard nodded, and Mack headed for the door, his pace just slow enough that he couldn't be accused of fleeing. If he spent the next several hours watching the infirmary feed over his laptop, that wasn't anyone's business but his own.
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He stroked his thumb across her palm and waited for her to speak. She knew everything that went on in her city - it didn't surprise him that she'd know this as well.
"Do you love me?" she asked eventually.
"You know I do," he answered immediately.
"Do you blame John for doing the same?"
"No," he said, squeezing her hand tightly. "I blame myself."
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"Hey," he protested, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I'm not the one who broke into a quarantine and...." His voice failed. His hand trembled against her skin and he dropped it to his side.
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Mack drew back and looked her square in the eyes. "Do you?"
"Yes," she said after a moment. "Not the way I love you. But this city, this galaxy, it gets under your skin. It's under my skin. It's under his. I can't not."
"I should be jealous," Mack murmured back.
Her eyes flashed very green.
"Then maybe I should be jealous too."
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Elizabeth stood, awkward, cheeks flushed. "John," she tried, hand reaching out and then falling to her side, gesture aborted.
Mack supposed he should be similarly concerned, but he was just too tired. "He's right, 'Lizabeth," he said, leaning forward and running a hand over his mouth. "Why bother. Life's too..." he paused, and found himself unable to finish.
"Too short," Sheppard supplied, voice rough, and stepped into the room.
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He pushed himself to his feet and something warmed in his chest as Elizabeth reached over to him. He caught her hand and tangled their fingers together. She was still his, she still loved him. This was more, not less.
"I don't play well with others," he said, extending their joined hands to Sheppard.
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"Yeah, well," Sheppard said. "You've seen my record."
Mack stiffened at the reminder; Sheppard - Mack could see it in the faint shift in the set of his mouth.
It was Elizabeth, unsurprisingly, who carried them past it. "I have. That's why you're here." She moved to Sheppard; Mack tried to let go, but she just tightened her fingers. She drew John to her, ran her fingers along his jaw. Sheppard shivered, but his eyes were watching Mack. Elizabeth turned, looked at Mack dead on - he matched her, stare for stare. "Both of you," she said, and pulled him to them.
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Mack knew that look. It was Sheppard's game face, the studied neutrality that hid just about anything, and everything, of worth. He knew that look well. He had one of his own.
He closed the distance, one arm sliding around Elizabeth's waist, a familiar curve, and the other cuffing Sheppard's neck, an unknown plane. Arm's length was relative to the angle of one's elbow and he'd kept Sheppard at arm's length long enough.
"Both of you," he affirmed.
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Under his palm, Sheppard shuddered, hard, dropping his head to rest against Mack's, even as Elizabeth relaxed into Mack's arm, her head against his shoulder. Wrapped in the feel and taste of them, solid, living proof that they weren't dead, that yet again, they'd all made it through, it was too much and not enough. He closed his eyes, held them close - held on.
Elizabeth's hand brushed against the small of his back, swept along his spine, her touch firm and sure and intimately familiar. Sheppard turned in Mack's grip; callused, blunt fingers cupped his cheek, then paused.
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Mack knew the question and had no desire to go through his life history with Sheppard. He turned his head and pressed his mouth against Sheppard's hand. The skin was dry and warm, tougher than Elizabeth's, and tasted different…saltier, a little bit bitter. He took a deep breath of Sheppard's scent, shaken by how immediate and visceral his reaction had been. I can do this, he thought. Easy.
"Kiss her," he told Sheppard, a rush of arousal letting him know just how much he wanted to see that. "Let me watch you kiss her."
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He almost didn't hear Elizabeth say, "Now I want to see him kiss you."
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A hitch in Elizabeth's breathing made him turn, just in time to watch her tug her shirt over her head, and then it was Mack's turn to stare.
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"I'm not missing a second," John assured him, folding their fingers together and reaching out. Their fingertips brushed together over the edges of Elizabeth's bra and then John moved behind her, pulling Mack's palm under the swell. The cups slackened in his palms and John smiled over Elizabeth's shoulders as the straps slipped down her arms. John pulled it away and dropped it to the floor.
"My turn to watch," he rasped.
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Elizabeth slipped into Mack's arms easily as breathing. He wound his hand in her hair, running a hand down her spine and savoring the feel of her against him, grinning at the shiver of breath down his back as he kissed along the line of her shoulder. He bit gently where her pulse leaped, and suddenly she pulled back, her hands against his chest.
"You're here," she murmured, eyes wild. She glanced over his shoulder, clearly seeking out John. "Oh, thank God, you're both here." When she kissed him, hard and desperate and wanting, he could feel her shaking.
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