Archive of Our Own

Carson sank onto one of the chairs and sighed deeply, staring across the room at John Sheppard through the crack in the curtain surrounding his bed. He knew the genetic changes would take some time to reverse and that it might be weeks before John was fully human again but at least he had hope now. His eyes moved to the other silent figure seated in the infirmary, also visible through the curtain, watching over John.

Rodney's relationship with John had been tense over this past few weeks; fallout from the disastrous Project Arcturus, but Carson had seen some improvement in that area even as John's body deteriorated into the Iratus bug that he loathed so much. Perhaps it was John's reminder of his mortality that had made him attempt to repair the broken bridge that lay between the two men. Yet, until this moment when Carson could be certain that his gene reversal theory worked in practice, the new understanding between the two had only increased Rodney's grief.

Pushing the doctor within him aside, he let himself see Rodney through the eyes of a friend and noticed the mixed emotions crossing Rodney's face that cycled between fear, confusion and...Desire? Love?

Rodney reached out slowly, unaware of his audience of one, and wrapped his fingers around the still mutated ones of John Sheppard, unafraid to touch the chitin-like, deep blue flesh that would slowly soften back to human form. That surprised Carson for he had thought that, of all people, Rodney would be least inclined to touch the alien looking skin. Yet he seemed to do so with little thought, as if it held no mystery for him until he turned John's hand slightly and stared down at their entwined fingers with his eyes drifting across to his own flesh. Carson wondered if that analytical mind was comparing and contrasting the color and feel, or if he was recalling John's human flesh. He smiled as Rodney raised his other hand to scratch at his neck, knowing the hypochondriac in Rodney was probably feeling his flesh crawl but he did not release John's hand nonetheless.

When Rodney leaned in and kissed John gently upon the lips, Carson's breath caught in his throat.

Feeling a little guilty at intruding on what Rodney had to believe was a private moment between the two, he started to rise. Rodney must have caught the movement out of the corner of his eye for he turned instantly, catching sight of Carson through the gap in the curtain. Carson was tempted to retreat to his office but something in Rodney's eyes made him stand fast. He watched as Rodney released John's hand, laying it gently on top of the coverlet before rising and slipping through the curtain towards him with more grace than Carson had seen in the man before this day.

"Rodney. I'm sorry. I never meant to intrude."

"It's okay. I should have been more careful and..." He waved his hand towards the curtain, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"How long?"

Rodney looked up, eyes widening, a little confusion crossing his face until he analyzed the words and came to a conclusion, making Carson wonder where his thoughts had drifted during those few seconds.

"Hmm...not very long actually."

"Oh. Well...at least you have a little more time to see how it goes between you." Carson sank back down onto his seat. "So bloody pleased to put this behind me for now."

He closed his eyes in relief but opened them when he felt the weight of unnatural silence. Rodney was rarely this silent, and that worried Carson.

"Rodney...It is over now. He'll be fine."

"It's not over yet."

"Aye...But he's--"

"Not the Colonel." Rodney licked him lips worriedly. "Me."

Carson sat up straighter and stared at Rodney in confusion before it struck him that this new relationship between Rodney and John might have blossomed while John's mind was slowly breaking down from the genetic conversion. No doubt, Rodney was wondering if he was regaining the old John Sheppard right down to the tension that had existed between them just prior to Ellia's attempt to feed off John.

"I'm no psychiatrist but I believe the mental changes only highlighted what was already there. He might take--"

"We had sex, Carson."

Carson blinked rapidly at this sudden revelation, shaking his head tiredly. Of course, that changed things a little if mental desire had progressed into a physical manifestation of that desire but...His thoughts were cut off by Rodney's bitter snort of self-deprecating laughter.

"We had sex yesterday. Anal sex."

Terrible realization flooded through Carson and he jumped to his feet, pushing Rodney back against the empty bed and forcing him to sit. Carson the friend disappeared beneath the mental cloak of Carson the doctor as he began to examine Rodney, looking first to Rodney's throat where he had seen him scratching. He let out a single breath harshly as he saw the pale blue sheen of the flesh. Ellia had passed the retrovirus into John through her attempt to feed off him, and John had passed it to Rodney through the exchange of body fluids.

"You never heard of condoms, man?" Carson whispered vehemently.

"It's not like I had the choice at the time," came a bitter response that made Carson blanch in shock.

Stupidly, he had assumed that it had been consensual sex but John had been losing his grip on his mind, returning to the animalistic instincts of the insect genetics that were devolving his body.

"Oh God," he breathed. "Rodney, I'm--"

Rodney brushed his horror-edged compassion aside.

"It wasn't rape." He looked aside in embarrassment. "I-I wanted it...Just..." He looked back with that shy, boyish smile. "A little romance would have been nice. Flowers, chocolates...especially chocolates."

Carson smiled despite the tears that were welling up inside. While Rodney was talking of his dream date with John, Carson gathered up a hypo from the nearby supplies cabinet and took Rodney's arm, preparing him before drawing some blood.

"A bottle of red wine...maybe a picnic out on the pier under the starlight like he gave..." He chuckled nervously.

"Chaya?"

"Yeah."

Carson patted Rodney's arm, hoping it would convey more than sympathy but reassurance too.

"Hop up here while I get this blood tested."

"My splinter wound's all gone." Rodney waggled his finger, reminding Carson how he had been so unsympathetic when Rodney cried out in pain as the splinter was removed because he thought Rodney was making a big deal out of nothing compared to John's stoicism in the face of graver injuries. Except, John had no pain because he had no injury.

"That's good."

"Definitely good." Rodney looked up with a small grin. "Hurt when I typed."

"Aye."

Carson called one of his nurses over and gave her the blood, telling her to get Biro to compare it to the sample of Rodney's blood held on file just so he could confirm that the retrovirus had been transmitted during unprotected sex. He turned back to the bed and drew the curtains around it, ordering Rodney to strip and put on the scrubs he placed on the edge of the bed. As soon as the results came back, confirming what he already knew, he would start Rodney on the same treatment given to John but, strangely, that was the least of his worries right now. What worried him more was how he was going to explain this to Elizabeth--and Caldwell--without betraying his friends?

***

Rodney tugged off his dark t-shirt and stood holding it for a moment, fingers wringing the material. Physically, he had never felt so good and so healthy. He felt stronger and faster with each passing hour with none of the niggling aches and pains that he normally associated with his more sedentary lifestyle. After spending hours hunched over his laptop, he often felt the tension in his neck and lower back but not today. Today his muscles felt good and, if the same had applied to his cognitive abilities then he would have understood the rush of having all this power in his body. However, he had always considered his mind to be his greatest asset and when he realized that he was having a hard time focusing on his work, he knew something was amiss.

At first he had put it down to mental trauma. Having almost had the life sucked out of him by a Wraith was bad enough but to have his 'savior' turn on him too had been terrifying, shaking him to the core. He had been so shaken that he had not even registered the splinter embedded in his hand from where he had tried to crawl away from the advancing wraith through the thick undergrowth of uprooted trees and shrubs. The adrenaline rush brought on by fear had cloaked the pain until the fear for his life had subsided to its abnormal background level within his mind. Even then, it registered only when he reached out to help get the Colonel on his feet so they could get him back to the jumper, sending sharp pain twisting through the palm of his hand that made him feel nauseous.

Admittedly, the sight of so much of Sheppard's blood had played a major part in the queasiness too.

"Who am I trying to kid?" He whispered harshly, knowing the sound would not carry beyond the curtains obscuring him from view. Yes, both the Wraith attack and Ellia's attack combined with the sight of Sheppard's torn and bloodied arm had been traumatic but, in truth, he had not been quite himself since Arcturus. Losing the respect of his colleagues and friends was worse than the actual failure of the project. He had destroyed a solar system and the full ramifications of that disaster might not be apparent within his lifetime but, apart from Collins, no one had died -- yet. Certainly, on a scale of one to ten, his disaster rated a mere two compared to Sheppard's ten for waking up an entire race of soul-sucking vampires that were eating their way through the entire Pegasus galaxy as an appetizer, while their inhuman eyes looked towards the smörgåsbord of the Milky Way as the main course and dessert.

However, until he lost Sheppard's trust and friendship, he never noticed how important it had been to him. The small, previously unimportant, throwaway parts of his day hurt the most; dropping into a seat at Sheppard's table in the mess hall without caring if his company was wanted or not, exchanging ideas in the control room with all of Sheppard's attention focused on him, or being dragged out of his lab by Sheppard to deal with minor technical faults that anyone on the science teams could fix. In hindsight, he could see that Sheppard had wanted his company, finding feeble excuses to justify his presence and Rodney had been a more than willing participant. Now, it was Radek that was called away to fix minor power fluctuations or offer input for the day to day running of the city. Now Rodney sat alone in the mess hall, finding that he *did* care that he was not wanted at Sheppard's table.

Can you give your ego a rest for one second? Elizabeth had demanded and Rodney had complied, but without his ego and his brain, what did he have left?

Now he noticed how often his presence went unacknowledged by others even though it was probably no different than before Arcturus, except he had forced people to acknowledge him then by the strength of his ego. Yet he knew the contrast between then and now lay within him, as if he had spent all his life walking around with blinkers on or his eyes shut tight. Rodney was the first to admit that he just wasn't a people person--pure and simple--but he had never truly cared until now.

Although Sheppard had not frozen him out completely, neither had he let the matter slide.

Rodney was still part of Sheppard's team--which had surprised him as Kavanagh had been looking pretty smug after having a talk with Sheppard a few days following the Arcturus incident. During that time, Rodney had convinced himself that Kavanagh had put his name forward as Rodney's replacement having spent the past year trying to convince all and sundry that Rodney's high position on the science chain of command in Atlantis was due solely to him having the ear of Major--now Colonel--Sheppard. Yet, when the time came for another off-world mission, Rodney was the scientist called to the pre-mission briefing, much to Kavanagh's disgust.

If Rodney believed that this meant something positive then he was most assuredly mistaken for the mission had been a complete disaster for all of them. Sheppard barely had two kind words to throw at him while on the planet and only disdainful glares to throw at him on their return. Yet this was the main source of Rodney's confusion because, within half a day of getting back, Sheppard had plenty to say.

Rodney's thoughts drifted back to yesterday, to where he had been hiding out in his lab on the pretext of being engrossed in some fresh calculations on the current level of power output by the ZPM rather than face the loneliness of dinner in the mess hall one more time...

***

"Still playing the coward?"

Rodney jumped up from his seat, his sore hand going to his racing heart. "Colonel! Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people? You could have sent me into cardiac arrhythmia."

Sheppard pushed away from the wall where he had been leaning cross-armed and stalked towards Rodney, knocking him with his shoulder as he walked past but then returning to stop right behind Rodney, well within his personal space. The bullying tactic made Rodney tense, recalling too many occasions from his school days where 'get the geek' had been the main source of entertainment for the cerebrally challenged. He could almost feel the heat of Sheppard's skin through the layers of clothing separating them, his own body responding in the wrong way...or was it the right way? Rodney could not be certain. He felt Sheppard press up behind him, felt the warmth of his breath upon his neck and startled as he felt a wet tongue lick the exposed side of his freshly shaved throat.

"You taste good."

"Wh-what are you doing, major?"

"Colonel." A knuckle rapped against his skull, causing Rodney to flinch. "I'd have thought a brain your size would have no trouble remembering that."

Rodney cleared his throat nervously as Sheppard moved to stand in front of him, head canted to one side, eyeing Rodney with an intense expression that both frightened and thrilled. Eyes narrowed dangerously, a sly smile curling Sheppard's lips and Rodney dropped his gaze from the challenge he saw in Sheppard's eyes. Fingers gripped tightly around Rodney's arm and propelled him out of the lab with such suddenness that he was several feet down the corridor before Rodney put on the brakes.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you some place a little more private."

"So we can talk about...what, exactly?"

Rodney gained no answer. Instead, Sheppard pursed his lips and yanked on Rodney's arm to get him moving again, pulling him along as if he was little more than a recalcitrant child. Rodney tried to stop again, digging in his heels but Sheppard was a *lot* stronger than he looked, dragging him along with ease. He was about to protest at the rough treatment but snapped his mouth shut. Sheppard had told him that he would have to re-earn his trust and part of that meant he had to trust Sheppard in turn, so he stopped trying to hinder him, letting Sheppard take the lead. They entered the transporter in silence and Rodney was surprised when Sheppard selected the destination closest to the Colonel's quarters, especially as he had refused Rodney entry the last time he went there. In truth, he had never been invited into Sheppard's quarters despite what he had once believed to be a growing friendship between them.

The door to Sheppard's room opened smoothly in front of them and closed just as swiftly behind them but Rodney had no time to sate his curiosity within the dimly lit room before he was spun around and slammed up against the door. Sheppard had a grip on both his biceps now, holding him in a grip of steel with fingers biting deep into muscle.

"You're hurting me," he whispered but, instead of easing his grip, Sheppard tightened it further, pressing the full length of his body against Rodney, his knee forcing Rodney's legs apart so he could press closer still. Hard lips pressed against Rodney's, one hand releasing Rodney's arm only to grab at his head, pulling off the radio head set before fingers tangled cruelly in the short strands of his hair while a hot tongue demanded full access to his mouth. Rodney's lips parted at the insistent pressure and he swallowed a gasp as his mouth was plundered. Shock kept Rodney immobile until Sheppard thrust his groin against Rodney's, his hard erection sending powerful sensations racing through him, igniting the desire Rodney had long hidden from Sheppard...or so he had thought.

He moaned into the brutal kiss, barely aware of the hand that had released his other arm and was now ranging down his flank before forcing its way between their close pressed bodies to undo his pants. He gasped as the hot hand slipped inside, rubbing insistently against his erection through the cotton of his boxers. When the strong hand moved to the waist band of his boxers, Rodney helped to push the material down, his baggy uniform pants dropping to pool at his ankles, his boxers shoved down to mid-thigh as the agile fingers wrapped around him. It had been too long since he had been touched there with anything other than his own good hand, his body overloading from the new sensation, tearing his orgasm out of him almost painfully as blackness closed in around him momentarily, studded with brilliant bursts of starlight as contrasting colors flashed through his mind's eye.

"That was...more than interesting," Sheppard murmured, his strong arm the only thing holding Rodney up, still pressing him against the door, but Rodney could barely think straight, let alone respond.

With his senses still spinning, he was barely aware of being maneuvered to the edge of the bed and sent sprawling onto his back as Sheppard dragged aside Rodney's shoes, pants and boxers, dropping them to the floor. Muscular shoulders forced his legs back, knees almost to his chest as a finger forced its way into his passion-sated body with only his spilled semen for lubrication, rubbing and stretching. Rodney made to protest but Sheppard leaned in, forcing the air out of his lungs and swallowing his gasp. Before he could draw a fresh breath, he felt the hard thrust as the finger was replaced by something thicker. He tore his mouth from Sheppard's and sucked in a deep breath as pain speared through his ill-prepared body, fingers scrabbling at Sheppard's arms. His ass burned from the abuse, stretched painfully around the thick shaft that continued to press into his body, stopping only when fully sheathed. Tears welled in his eyes and he could feel them brimming over, running down his cheeks to be lapped up by a rough tongue.

Sheppard had stilled. His warm breath came in shallow pants that fanned across Rodney's face as he hushed Rodney, his hands petting him gently, smoothing over his skin, and caressing his face.

"Hush. It's okay. It's okay." He leaned in to kiss away the tears. "So good and tight. So incredibly tight."

All too soon, Sheppard began to move, slowly rocking in and out of him, his thrusts becoming stronger, harder. The litany of soft reassurances fell from his lips continuously, never faltering; telling Rodney all the things he had always longed to hear, and making the pain bearable. Rodney could sense Sheppard's climax building, could hear it in the way his voice began to catch, in the way his fingers began to clutch at the bedclothes, and the muscles in his forearms began to tremble. He talked all the way through his climax, telling Rodney how good it felt, how right it was, his body thrusting in short erratic jabs before the flood of hot semen filled Rodney, acting as a soothing balm to his sore flesh.

Afterwards, they lay sprawled on the bed in uncustomary silence until the squawk of Rodney's discarded headset radio filled the air with the sound of Zelenka's voice. Scrabbling to find it, he hissed at the pull of abused muscles in his legs and ass.

"McKay here. What is it?" He asked in a mixture of annoyance and fear of discovery.

"We have problem with the water purification system...again."

"And it's not the automatic shut off valve?"

"Obviously, no. If it was automatic shut off valve then I would not need to call you."

"Obviously," Rodney added with a sigh. "I'll be there in ten."

"Then I will see you in fifteen."

The link closed as Rodney opened his mouth to protest at the assumption that he would be late. He turned back to see John's eyes glittering strangely in the dimly lit room as they watched him. Part of Rodney hated the interruption, wishing they could do what he originally thought they were coming here to do...to talk. Yet, another part of him felt uneasy under Sheppard's intense stare, feeling naked and vulnerable. He gave a soft chuckle because he was almost naked, clad only in his socks and t-shirt and he certainly felt vulnerable with his bare ass exposed and the stickiness of semen running down his inner thigh.

"I'll just clean up in the bathroom quickly and then..."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," echoed Rodney and he stooped to grab his clothes from the untidy heap on the floor, hoping no one would notice his rumpled pants and wonder what he'd been up to.

He washed quickly, rinsing away the semen and smear of blood from the rough penetration, and feeling the sting of torn flesh at the entrance, all the while wondering what he should say to Sheppard. After pulling on his clothes, he checked himself in the mirror, wiping a cloth over his face before heading out of the bathroom. He looked to the bed, hoping he would find the right words once he saw Sheppard but the bed was neatly-made, and empty. Sheppard had gone.

Rodney let himself out the room and wandered alone down the night darkened corridor towards the transporter, knowing Radek would be waiting for him in the control room.

***

As his thoughts came back to the present, he dropped the black t-shirt onto the bed and pulled on the burgundy top before kicking off his shoes and stripping off the rest of his clothes. As he finished pulling on the scrubs, he heard Carson clearing his throat just beyond the curtain.

"It's okay. I'm decent."

Carson pulled back the curtain. "Personally, I'm not so sure of that," he stated with a twinkle in his eye that lightened Rodney's mood.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Don't you get tired of that old joke?"

"Oh, not really." Carson's expression turned serious. "I need to do a full medical...and then I'll need to inform Elizabeth of the results."

"I'm not in any position to argue so...Just get on with it," Rodney mumbled.

"Okay."

***

"Dr. Weir, can you come down to the infirmary."

"Is Colonel Sheppard--?"

"He's doing fine but there's a related problem I need to discuss with you."

"I'm on my way."

Elizabeth offered a pleasant smile to Caldwell. "Perhaps we can continue this discussion later."

"I'll accompany you to--"

"That won't be necessary, Colonel. I'm certain Dr. Beckett would have asked for you if your presence was required."

Caldwell seemed to accept the dismissal stoically enough but Elizabeth saw the slight twitch of one corner of his mouth that indicated annoyance. He was still smarting over her obvious disapproval of his tactics after taking temporary command of the military in Atlantis. He had yet to relinquish that post and Elizabeth could not force him to do so until John was released for light duty and that could be at least two weeks away. In the interim, Elizabeth was determined to ensure that any sweeping changes proposed by Caldwell were placed in a pending pile where John could make the final decision on whether to implement them or not. Fortunately, Caldwell had agreed to the compromise and Elizabeth hoped John would be amenable to taking on board a few of Caldwell's suggestions for, despite his methods, Caldwell's proposals were sound in places though a little too restrictive in other areas.

She pushed aside these thoughts as she entered Carson's domain, her eyes automatically seeking out the curtained off area where John Sheppard lay in a chemically induced coma until the reversal process removed sufficient Iratus gene material to allow him to think lucidly once more. Through the slightly parted curtain, she could see his quiet form lying in the bed. The low lighting within the infirmary still managed to glint off the hard, almost iridescent blue carapace that had started to form over parts of his body. She shuddered as she recalled the sight of Ellia's body, all too aware that John would have become just like her if Carson's theory had not worked, with all signs of his humanity eradicated. What remained would no longer be the John Sheppard she knew and respected, and perhaps even loved in some familial way. Instead, the insect part would have become dominant, driving him with baser instincts to kill and feed.

Fortunately, Carson had saved him from that ignoble end, giving him the chance to recover his humanity.

She took several more steps into the infirmary, only then noticing that John was alone. His team had seemed so supportive only a short time ago so she had expected to see at least one of them seated with him now. Rodney, perhaps, as he seemed to have taken John's 'illness' quite badly, judging by the protective stance of Teyla and Ronon earlier.

Her thoughts returned to that moment and to the almost shell-shocked look on Rodney's face. Although not obvious to the casual eye, Teyla and Ronon had been watching Rodney carefully, as if convinced they could hold him together with the sheer force of their presence but her words had almost undone their work, bringing despair instead of hope. She had hated to be the harbinger of doom but felt they each deserved the chance to spend one last private moment with John before the mutation stole him away from them forever.

Rodney needed that opportunity most of all.

Her heart had ached for him over these past weeks since Project Arcturus, seeing him struggle to come to terms with what had happened and watching him try so hard to regain the level of trust he had forfeited by his actions, especially with John. She found it hard to see Rodney sitting alone in the mess hall. Sometimes she would catch him staring longingly at the table where John sat, knowing he would no longer be so welcome there. Strangely, a lack of welcome had never stopped Rodney in the past, which only proved how deeply he felt about the estrangement now. Yet, John had thawed towards Rodney in those first hours after Carson gave him the bad news concerning the retrovirus, proving that all he had wanted was to give it a little time but sweeping aside that notion once time became a luxury he could ill afford. Though, once the mutation became more pronounced, John started to push everyone away, not wanting to be seen, and most especially by Rodney, insisting on the Athosian cloak to hide his mutated form.

"Carson?"

She raised her voice slightly, not wanting her voice to carry too far even though John was in a coma and unlikely to stir, and was surprised when the curtain parted from around the bed next to John's as Carson stepped out. He beckoned her to stay where she was and quickly joined her, speaking quietly before she had the chance to ask what was happening.

"We have a wee problem with Rodney."

"Rodney?" Her eyes strayed towards the hidden bed.

"Aye. He caught the retrovirus too but he'll be all right. I've got him on the Iratus stem cell serum so--"

Elizabeth knew she was gaping and snapped her mouth closed. "How?"

Carson looked a little uncomfortable. "Can I not answer that just yet?"

"If we're looking at an epidemic--"

"No," Carson raised his hand. "No. There's nothing to worry about. Though I'd like to run a few additional checks on Teyla and Ronon just to be on the safe side."

"I need to know how he got infected." She frowned when Carson looked away uneasily. "Was it from John's blood?"

He straightened and looked at her, wild eyed with relief. "Aye. That could be it. There was a lot of blood...and Rodney had this bloody great splinter in his hand that was bleeding a little. An open wound." He sighed happily. "Aye. That could work."

"Carson?" Elizabeth queried softly. "We can keep that as the official line but...How about you tell me the truth now?"

"Oh crap." He looked a little queasy but nodded, leading Elizabeth further away from the two occupied beds. She folded her arms and waited patiently as she watched him trying out the words in his head.

"Sometimes it's easier to just say it."

He gave her a strangled look that was part plea and part misery before nodding and taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Unprotected sex."

"With Ellia?"

Elizabeth was aghast, wondering when this could have happened.

"Ah...No, not exactly. With Colonel Sheppard."

***

Carson watched Elizabeth intently, wanting to gauge her reaction to the bombshell he'd dropped on her before saying any more.

"I never knew they were..." Her voice trailed off, her head shaking slowly in confusion. "...together."

He knew what she was thinking, that she should have noticed a sexual relationship developing between her military and science heads. She worked with them every day and it should have been obvious from their body language alone if they had a new physical intimacy but all anyone had seen over the past weeks was Rodney struggling to regain John's trust and friendship. He decided to put her out of her misery.

"I don't believe they were in that kind of a relationship before..." He waved a hand in lieu of saying the actual words, still finding it hard to accept the part he had played in Ellia's destruction despite John's assurance that he was not to blame. "I'm not saying that neither had considered it because it's pretty obvious to me now that they both had, but that neither had acted upon any desire before yesterday. However, John's behavior was already a little more aggressive by the time the first visible signs of the retrovirus showed up. He gave Teyla quite a match with those sticks from what I overheard her saying earlier, which left her a little spooked, and he left Ronon eating his dust went they went out running together. Plus we both know the conversion was meddling with his thought processes, and lowering his inhibitions."

Elizabeth nodded, deep in thought.

"Just because Rodney might have wanted...Was it rape?"

"Rodney says no. But as I said, I get the impression that this was the first time and, though not strictly unwelcome, it was not exactly what he wanted...from a first time." He noticed her quizzical look. "Just something he said about there being little in the way of romance about it, that he didn't have a lot of choice." He sighed heavily. "The retrovirus already had a strong enough hold on his body to heal any injuries, including that splinter wound he came back with, so there's no physical evidence of sexual activity, let alone any signs of an assault. We have to take his word on it."

"But you don't believe it was fully consensual?"

"No. I don't."

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes flashing. "We'll stick with the 'official' version but I'd like you to make Dr. Heightmeyer aware of the true situation."

Carson nodded, having expected no less a demand from Elizabeth. Rodney was already stressed from dealing with the fallout from Project Arcturus and this might be all he needed to push him over the edge, depending on what happened once John regained his full humanity. Plus, Carson had not overlooked the possibility that John might need a little guidance too should he recall what had happened between him and Rodney.

"Can I go and see Rodney now?"

"Aye."

He watched her hesitate just outside the curtain, taking a deep breath before calling out softly and entering the curtained off area. Shaking his head at the mess he had caused when he took the retrovirus to the planet and failed to keep it locked away, Carson stepped back into his office to go over the results from the autopsy on Ellia. He hoped something might be salvaged from this debacle.

***

Ronon sat between the two beds, deep in thought, looking at neither occupant. When he decided to stay with the Atlanteans, he never expected to find friendship, seeking only food and shelter and, though he hated to admit it, basic human contact too. He had figured on staying just a few weeks, enough time to restock supplies, decide on his next plan of action and interact with other human beings. Seven years as a runner had left him reluctant to make contact with any living soul in case he brought the Wraith down upon them, and he thought he had learned to live without the touch of a kind hand, the sound of laughter, and the warm feeling that pervaded him when he knew he was part of something greater than himself; part of a team, part of a friendship.

As a soldier on Sateda, he had been a sociable person with several brothers-in-arms who meant everything to him. He had lost them when a man he thought he could trust betrayed them all to save his own skin. Kell had paid for that betrayal with his life and Ronon felt he could finally grieve for the 'brothers' he had lost.

He thought of Teyla. She said the Atlanteans would not understand why he had killed him in cold blood but that was a half truth. The ones that mattered to him would understand. John Sheppard and Rodney McKay would understand because they cared deeply for each other despite the current rift between them. He recalled mention of a Genii by the name of Acastus Kolya and how this man had hurt and threatened McKay and Dr. Weir. If the Genii had carried out his threat and killed either one of those two, John Sheppard would have hunted Kolya to the ends of the galaxy and beyond.

What made it a concern to Ronon was that he had rediscovered a similar kinship within him for Sheppard, Teyla and McKay. He could understand his connection to Sheppard and Teyla for they were both warriors but McKay was so very different. On a first impression he was weak, arrogant, cowardly and shallow, and that impression did not alter much for anyone unwilling to scratch beneath the surface. Yet, his weakness was offset by the strength of his resolve when he was needed, spending hour upon hour, day upon day searching for answers long past the time when most others would have given up and laid down to die. His arrogance and shallowness hid his insecurities, his fear of getting too close because he had been burned one too many times. As for being a coward, Ronon could think of few people who would willingly walk into a nest of Iratus bugs, having seen what just a single one could do to a man, just to save one friend and protect several others.

Yet, Ronon's first impression of Rodney McKay had been unusual, bringing out a surge of protectiveness within him that he thought had long been eradicated by his need to avoid all human contact. The sound of gunfire and terrified yelling had brought him running, and his first sight of McKay was of a frightened man hanging upside down in one of Ronon's Wraith traps, facing a killer. After the immediate danger had passed, McKay had simply introduced himself and asked to be cut down, and the merriment that bubbled up inside Ronon had yet to recede.

He glanced across at McKay--at Rodney--as Dr. Beckett approached.

"He's dying."

"I'm trying the same treatment on him that I'm using on Colonel Sheppard but his body is rejecting it, and I don't know why." Beckett sank down into the other seat that Teyla had vacated an hour before. "It's as if his body doesn't recognize his own DNA."

Ronon nodded. Beckett's tests had shown that the Iratus genetics were slowly disappearing from both Sheppard and McKay but, where Sheppard was returning to normal, becoming John Sheppard once more, Rodney McKay's body was breaking down, little by little. He did not even understand how Rodney could have contracted the retrovirus as Rodney had not been given the opportunity to get close enough to Sheppard for any blood to touch him. Beckett had allayed all fears that the virus was air borne, checking the blood work of everyone who had come in contact with Sheppard following Ellia's attack but Ronon had got the impression that it was done so as a cover up rather than out of necessity. His thoughts raced back a day earlier when none of them could sleep and had congregated in the mess hall. He knew Rodney was upset because of the lack of enthusiasm he had for the bowl of Jello that he had conjured up from somewhere and wondered if something else lay at the bottom of that despite the way Rodney had been rather withdrawn of late.

Beckett looked at McKay and Ronon could see his eyes drifting over the medical paraphernalia that had taken over some of McKay's body functions. The soft hiss of the respirator had long since become background noise.

"How long?" he asked softly.

"Half a day...maybe less."

"What if you gave him someone else's DNA? Sheppard's...or mine."

"No. That wouldn't work." Beckett shook his head in despair but then sat up suddenly, blue eyes wide, mouth gaping. "But I could give him his own DNA."

"You just said his DNA is being rejected."

"Aye. It is...but that DNA was altered by the ATA gene therapy. I still have samples of his original DNA on file. If I make a magic bullet containing the Iratus stem cells and his original DNA then..."

Beckett laughed, standing up and clapping Ronon on the shoulder before rushing off, his voice calling back over his shoulder as he left the infirmary. "You're a bloody genius!"

Ronon frowned, uncertain what had just happened but if it meant they could save Rodney's life then he was happy to let the medical explanations go unanswered.

***

Two Weeks Later:

John almost cheered aloud when Carson gave him permission to leave the confines of the infirmary--finally. He had spent the best part of the last week accosting anyone who walked through the door just to have someone to help him get through the long, boring hours. Most obliged, willing enough to spend a few minutes and often more, discussing anything John could think of, though others were far too focused on the minor injuries that had brought them there to stand around for long. He knew he had been running the nurses and doctors ragged too, with his constant need for entertainment, and he could bet that was part of the reason why Carson decided to send him back to his room to finish recuperating.

Elizabeth, Teyla and Ronon had dropped around often and so had Major Lorne but, for all his declaration for wanting to earn back John's trust, Rodney had been strangely absent. Yet, John had caught sight of him on numerous occasions, hovering just beyond the infirmary door but ducking away as soon as John spotted him. He tried to call him back once, even tried to follow him but the guard stationed outside--for his benefit--made it very clear that, until Carson said so, John was not allowed beyond the confines of the infirmary. Having learned of some of the damage he had caused while infected, he could not blame Elizabeth or Caldwell for their paranoia.

From Teyla and Ronon, John knew Rodney had spent a great deal of time at his bedside while he was in the coma but had made excuses not to visit once he had regained consciousness. Snatches of memory from the two days spent infected with the retrovirus came back to haunt him, explaining why Teyla had not visited him alone and he wondered if he had done something equally unsettling to Rodney. He wished he could remember but the elusive memories slipped between his fingers whenever he reached out to grasp them. All he could recall was Rodney's eyes, wide and blue, and his tear-streaked face. Had he said something to hurt him? Perhaps he had released some of the pent up frustration and anger stored up inside since Arcturus, when Rodney's obsession had nearly killed them both.

Yes. That had to be it and it would explain why Rodney was unwilling to meet him face to face. Probably still hurting over what he had said to him but a few home truths were not going to kill Rodney and might even have cleared the air between them.

If only he could remember because he had niggling doubt in the back of his mind that said he had done something far worse than shout at Rodney.

After leaving the infirmary, John decided that his first call should be on Teyla. She had said nothing about the kiss and he wondered if she had mentioned it to anyone at all. Part of him hoped not as the one thing he could recall clearly from that kiss was that it had done nothing for him. All those months of sparring might have produced the interest but the consummation had dampened the desire rather than aroused him further.

He shook his head in annoyance. Why could he recall his actions with Teyla so clearly but not his confrontation with Rodney? He sighed. At least he could apologize to Teyla now, knowing exactly where to find her.

Just a short while later, John was smiling softly as Teyla left him alone in the practice room. Her teasing had made an awkward situation easier and he felt as if a weight had dropped from his shoulders. They had placed that out of character moment firmly behind them, never to be spoken of again and, hopefully, never to be repeated.

He let the sticks swing loosely in his hands, hoping he could mend the bridge between him and Rodney with equal ease. Some how, though, he doubted that would be the case. Nothing about Rodney was easy. He was the most complicated person John had ever known; a veritable maelstrom of contradicting emotions and neuroses that seemed to have grown stronger since the return from Earth culminating in the Arcturus disaster. John knew he was partly to blame, with his own mental scars running too deep from losing Ford not once but twice.

Stupidly, he had blamed Rodney for that second loss, holding him responsible for not being a better friend to Ford when they were a team. Yet, that was unfair to Rodney because he had at least tried to work past his social inadequacies in the only way he knew how. He had tried to reach Ford through the paranoia induced by his addiction to the Wraith enzyme but, just as John had felt his mind slipping as he devolved into one of the bugs that he hated so much, so had Ford's. Even he had not been able to reason with Ford at the end either, forced to shoot him too and then stand by and watch as Ford chose to die at the hands of the Wraith rather than return to Atlantis. In the face of that, he could hardly blame Rodney.

If anything, he owed Rodney an apology for leaving him in that frightening situation for so long in the first place but he, simply, could not believe Ford would ever do anything to harm any one of them. He still did not want to believe that but Ronon had been adamant that the man he attacked--the man who had saved his life earlier purely as an aside to getting the drug he craved--was going to kill the terrified one hanging upside down in one of Ronon's Wraith traps: Rodney.

Terrified and vulnerable.

Looking back over the past nine months since he met Rodney McKay, John realized that so much had happened to both of them. At least John and the rest of the military contingent had their training and experience in the field to prepare them for the death and destruction they had faced at almost every turn but the scientists were hurtled into a world of fear. Those few like Rodney had to face it head on, time and time again with no preparation and little psychological help in the aftermath.

Sitting down on the low steps, John recalled an early conversation with Ronon as he tried to apologize for Rodney's eccentric and cowardly behavior, feeling about two inches tall when Ronon cut him down to size with just one sentence. 'He's a lot braver than you think.'

It was so easy to forget the times when Rodney saved them because he always made such a fuss about it, whereas Teyla, Ford and now Ronon brushed off their bravery as part of the day's work. Except, standing up to a ten thousand-year-old wraith and walking into a life sucking energy cloud--or into a cave full of Iratus bugs--should not have been a part of this scientist's work. He was not a soldier and, as Ronon said, he was a lot braver than John gave him credit for, willing to put his life on the line when it came down to it.

Did that make Rodney braver than the trained soldier who stood his ground to the last second of his life? Ronon seemed to think so and, almost begrudgingly, John admitted it to.

These past two weeks in the infirmary had left John with too much time to think about the past months. Post traumatic stress syndrome was an accepted illness of anyone forced to witness a terrible situation and Rodney had faced more than his fair share of life and death situations over these past months. He had seen friends and colleagues die right before his eyes, and had even witnessed one committing suicide. Rodney had worked under the most incredible pressure to save the city and the expedition for months without end, especially in those last few weeks as the Wraith closed in on them. If anyone deserved to have a few eccentricities or be close to a mental breakdown then it was Rodney McKay but, instead of reaching out to offer him the help and comfort he needed, people had shoved his 'cries for help' aside with disdain. People like Lorne. People like him.

"Some friend you turned out to be," John murmured, wondering how much more damage he had added by his insensitivity and misplaced anger since losing Ford.

He dropped the sticks and stood up. It was time to mend those bridges with Rodney and John knew exactly where to start looking for him at this time of day but when he reached the mess hall, he was surprised to see no sign of Rodney. John double checked his watch but it was lunch time, and even Zelenka was at one of the tables talking with Simpson and another egghead. He strolled over.

"Hey, Dr. Z. Where's Rodney?"

Zelenka looked up, eyes magnified by the thick glasses so John could easily read the mixed emotions there.

"Rodney is...busy."

"Busy?"

Zelenka looked at his colleagues, sighed heavily and stood up, beckoning John aside for privacy.

"Is good to see you are well, Colonel. Perhaps now you will be nice to Rodney. He tries hard to be good friend but he does not have lot of experience, I think."

"I'm always nice to Rodney."

Zelenka gave him a pointed look.

"Okay...maybe not as nice as I could be but it's not like he hasn't deserved a little of the cold shoulder after that fiasco."

Zelenka sighed again. "I am pot calling kettle black. I am guilty of not being as nice as I could be to Rodney. He apologized but I was...upset with him and would not accept apology. Now, I feel guilty because he tried and I would not listen, and now he no longer tries and I cannot make him listen. He spends too much time alone."

"Did I..?" John hesitated but if anyone knew the answer to his question, it would be Zelenka. "Did I hurt Rodney while I was...not myself?"

Zelenka looked uneasy. "I saw you take Rodney from laboratory by force."

"I did?"

"Yes. I was concerned. When he did not return after fifteen minutes, I contacted him on radio under pretext of city problem. He came back but I could see he was hurt. I ask if everything fine. He ignored query and because I was still angry with him over Arcturus fiasco, I did not ask again."

"You think I might have hit him?"

"I-I do not know." Zelenka grimaced. "I think so. He looked to be in pain."

"Great," John uttered sarcastically. This was all he needed, to learn that he had physically assaulted Rodney. He muttered his thanks and started to turn away, deciding to try Rodney's laboratory next but stopped when he felt Zelenka's hard grip on his arm.

"Rodney...He is not himself. He has taken loss of ATA gene very hard."

"What?" John felt the ripple of shock race through him. "What happened? I thought Beckett's gene therapy--"

"You do not know this?"

"What happened?"

"He caught retrovirus. Carson believes your blood got into his body through the splinter wound in his hand. Was bad splinter wound."

John frowned, recalling the way Rodney had fussed over that damn splinter when they came back from the planet. "I still don't get it."

"I am not medical doctor. All I know is the treatment reversed Iratus conversion but he was still dying so Carson used Rodney's original DNA, eradicating all signs of ATA gene therapy from his body."

"Then he can give it back to Rodney now he's--"

"No. Carson cannot give him the therapy again because of possible repercussion with genetics following retrovirus problem."

John thanked Zelenka almost silently and walked away. Having the ATA gene had meant so much to Rodney on so many levels. The ease of his interaction with the city's controls was only second to John's because his incredible mind was able to grasp and use the power of the Ancients where others with a natural occurrence of the gene faltered. The city seemed to know him, seemed to recognize him and aid him in his work. For Rodney, losing the gene would be like John losing his eyes and never being able to pilot an aircraft ever again. No wonder Rodney could not face him. John had taken everything from him; his friendship, his trust and now Rodney's ATA gene.

How was he supposed to rebuild a bridge with Rodney that had been nuked off the face of the planet by this revelation?

***

Rodney looked around as he felt the prickle between his shoulders blades, knowing a pair of eyes were focused on him. He expected to find Zelenka standing there, glowering at him over the top of his glasses as he made yet another overture to 'save' their dead friendship but Rodney could not handle any more disappointments right now. Zelenka had made it pretty clear after Arcturus that Rodney could do nothing to repair the damage caused that day by his obsession and harsh words. If his words had not been good enough then, they were not good enough now and so this offer could only be a cruel joke being played out on him, and Rodney had been teased too cruelly in the past to make that same mistake twice.

Instead, he found John leaning against the door frame, watching him intently, and his heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he was torn between elation and crippling fear, silently reminding himself of the vow he had made to put whatever hopes and dreams he had back into the deepest corner of his mind, where they belonged. He schooled his expression to his most condescending and, keeping his tone even and emotionless -- being neither encouraging nor completely dismissive -- he hoped John would take the slight hint and go away.

"Been there long?"

He saw John's eyes narrow in a mixture of concern and confusion and Rodney turned away without acknowledging him further, not wanting to inadvertently reveal how much he had wanted to see John, how much he had missed seeing him each day and how much he wanted him to stay. He had to focus on those things he *could* have, not on those lost dreams. His work was all he had these days and he did not need the ATA gene to operate his laptop or make calculations, and neither of those activities required the presence of others either.

"Not that long actually."

The soft drawl almost undone all his hard work but Rodney tightened his resolve.

"Well don't let me keep you from whatever it is your supposed to be doing."

He did not bother to look up from his laptop, hoping John would recognize the dismissal this time and expecting the Colonel to slip away while his back was turned. He waited a full minute before glancing over his shoulder, sighing heavily when he saw just empty space where John had been standing. Rodney swallowed the bitterness and regret and went back to his work, concentrating on the math. Several more minutes past but he could no longer focus on the problem. Too many new thoughts hurtled through his tired mind bringing forth memories that he wished he could erase; memories of John's hands, of his demanding kisses and ardent words proclaiming how good it was, how tight, and how hot. Those words of need and desire had stripped away the pain of rough possession along with so many of his doubts.

He had given himself freely then, accepting the hard thrusts and gentle caresses, letting tears of pain turn to joy. Allowing himself to believe that this could be the start of something wonderful--until he came back to an empty room and an impeccably made bed, with no sign of what they had shared remaining except for the musk of sex slowly dissipating as the city air conditioners completed their self-appointed task. Once he stepped into the corridor beyond, the last physical presence would be gone from that room as if nothing had ever taken place there between them; another hazy dream that almost became a reality, just one more to add to the many others that had dogged his life.

He slammed his hand down in frustration, scattering papers that had been balanced precariously on top of the bench and watching as they wafted to the floor in all directions. With an audible groan, he dropped his head into his hands only to jump in shock when the papers started to appear almost magically beside him. Turning in his chair, he looked down to see the top of a familiar mop of disarrayed hair at his feet, gathering up the rest of the papers.

"You need to move back so I can--"

"What-what are you doing?"

John raised both his head and his eyebrows, and Rodney felt the heat rise in his cheeks at the inane question.

"I meant...I know you're picking up papers but...What..? Why?"

"Because you dropped them, Rodney"

John placed the last few sheets beside Rodney. He licked his lips in a gesture that Rodney had come to recognize as nervousness.

"I need to talk to you about what happened and...I heard about the gene. I'm sorry."

"Yes...Well, Zelenka's managed without it so--"

"It's not the same."

Rodney swallowed and looked away, refusing to give in to the burn of tears, refusing to let them fall. Of all people, John would understand his loss most of all, and perhaps even feel the same cold that had seeped deep into his bones following that loss.

He never noticed the full effect of the gene upon his body and mind until they returned to the SGC, and even then it took two weeks before he recognized the source of his irritation while on Earth. On Atlantis, he had not registered the background hum in his mind for it crept into him so slowly, so insidiously but without that comforting hum he had felt so lost and alone on Earth. The return trip on the Daedalus had offered some relief because of the Ancient and Asgard technology warming his mind but he had not felt good until he stepped back into the city, and then the quiet power of the hum returned, bathing his mind, easing his battered soul the same way his cat's purr had done so in the now seemingly distant past.

Stepping back onto Atlantis had felt like coming home, feeling as if the city was welcoming him back with open arms, and with a mother's soft caress upon his mind. Since losing the ATA gene, all he felt was coldness where there should have been warmth, and all he heard was the silence beneath the churning of his thoughts. He could not sleep, his mind reaching out for that lost part of itself, not even finding solace with some Ancient artifact as he had on Earth. He felt as if an important part of his soul had been ripped out of him, ejected into the void of space...like Lindstrom. Rodney felt the nausea rise again.

"Rodney?"

"Go away, Colonel."

Rodney turned away, focusing back on the laptop and the equations that should have made such sense but were blurring into a mass of indistinct squiggles on the screen. Desperately, he needed John to go. He needed him to leave before Rodney made even more of a fool of himself and lost the final shreds of his dignity to this man but John remained stock still beside him, his pity smothering Rodney.

"Please...just go away and leave me alone," he whispered.

Rodney closed his eyes and sank his head onto his arms as he heard the receding footsteps and the door closing behind his unwanted visitor. He felt the first tremors in his muscles as he tried to force back the anguish, a single harsh sob escaping which he choked on, trying to dam back the rest before he lost all control. His shoulders began to shake from the strain, soft gasps falling from him as he lost the battle. Through hazy shock, he felt arms wrap around him, holding him tight, a hand smoothing through his hair while a soft voice offered false promises that all would work out fine in the end. He forced back the tears, pushing out of the warm embrace and scrubbed his sleeve over his eyes, embarrassment adding to his distress as he turned to face his comforter.

There was no one there.

Rodney swiveled on the chair, eyes darting over every surface, flicking into every corner but the laboratory was empty. He was losing his mind.

***

John stalked back to his room, cursing when the door opened at his command because it was all so easy for him. He had the gene embedded in his DNA from birth, a part of his heritage, a part of what made him John Sheppard. As far as Rodney was concerned, it was the greatest gift known to man, something to be coveted and prized, and John had it in spades. He could fly jumpers, work Ancient technology, open doors, take mental trips inside the Ancient database but like the guitar that sat in his room, all he could manage were simple tunes. Rodney was the true master, his rapier mind so incredible, working at a capacity so much higher than any other person John knew. Rodney could give even the Asgard, Hermiod, a run for his money, working at an intellectual level that made it a pleasure to watch human and alien interact. Strangely, they had similar personalities too, sniping at each other but John had recognized the underlying respect, each for the other. That had not changed. Rodney was still the same brilliant astrophysicist but the additional element was now gone. The ability to interface with the Ancient technology directly was lost and though that had not handicapped others such as Zelenka and Kavanagh, John knew, instinctively, how much Rodney had come to rely upon that link, making it a living part of himself where others like Carson shunned its power.

He dropped to the edge of his bed, burying his head in his hands as he focused on the comforting hum that had become his constant companion from the moment he set foot on Atlantis. He had felt the loss acutely while on Earth, and he wondered if Elizabeth understood the true reason why he had mentioned his promotion to her at every opportunity. Without that rank, he would have been reassigned on Earth, possibly back to the Ancient outpost in Antarctica because they could ill afford to lose his natural ability with the Ancient technology. He had an almost irrational fear that the SGC had plans for another officer to take his place as military commander in Atlantis to replace Colonel Sumner, and if that happened then he would not be assigned back to the Pegasus galaxy because his superiors would be concerned about his ability to follow the new chain of command.

The city was his home now. He could sense her presence all around him, within him and, silently, he wondered if the other gene carriers could sense it too. If they could, if this was not an aberration on his part, then Rodney's loss would be all the more distressing, perhaps even soul destroying.

That he had played a part in that loss was horrifying, hitting him hard. He'd had to do plenty of distasteful things in his life. He had killed and even stood aside and watch people die but this was far worse. This felt as if he had taken something beautiful and innocent and fragile and then tortured and mutilated it, leaving it broken and bloodied by the side of the road. His heart contracted with pain, hating himself for what had happened to Rodney.

He closed his eyes and a memory flashed across his mind, of Rodney's blue eyes wide with pain and fear, tears streaking down his cheeks, the salty taste bursting on his tongue as he--

John snapped his head up, gasping in shock as one forefinger flew to his lips, touching them, his tongue flicking out tentatively as the memory of tasting Rodney's tears lost focus, softly blurring but leaving an impression behind that filled John with renewed uncertainty and horror.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes again, letting his mind drift towards the taste of Rodney's tears. Memories formed again, of the pain-filled blue eyes, of tears, of soft skin and hard kisses. The scent of male sex filled the air, the whimper of pain and his own words of comfort, of need, as he gave into the dark desire borne out of that loveless kiss with Teyla. The warmth of Atlantis in his mind fed his rising passion, no longer encumbered by denial and reservation, making him search for another of his kind, seeking his true mate--seeking out Rodney.

Brutal kisses and hard hands, sobs of pain and pleasure combined, of his dominance and Rodney's submission. His body trembled in remembrance of the tight sheath of Rodney's body, tearing the ecstasy from him in wave upon rolling wave of sated need as all control was ripped away. He wanted this with every fiber of his being, wanted Rodney, no longer shackled by civilized behavior or military rules as he took what he wanted so desperately.

He opened his eyes in shock. He had raped Rodney.

Carson looked up as John stepped into his small office, feeling a little apprehensive when the door was shut and locked behind him. He waited as John took a seat opposite without any sign of his normal tendency to slouch. John's muscles were tense, his face etched with lines Carson never saw except under the worst of circumstances, and his lips were a tight bloodless line, fingers clenched into fists, knuckles whitened as they lay tense on his thighs.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what, Colonel?"

"About Rodney."

Carson had to assume that all John knew about was Rodney's loss of the ATA gene after becoming infected with the retrovirus. "It's hardly your fault that he got infected. If anyone's to blame--"

"Cut the crap, Beckett. We both know he didn't get infected through that little splinter on his hand." John's eyes lost the hardness, despair filling them along with self-loathing. "I raped him, giving him the ultimate STD that cost him the gene."

Carson sighed and slumped back in his seat, knowing he could not deny it but that he could argue on one point. "Rodney said it was not rape."

"He did, did he?" John leaned forward, forearms on the desk separating them, and pinning Carson with a look that bordered on psychotic. "I dragged him out of his laboratory, forced him to my room...and then fucked him up the ass." He pushed back, crossing his arms over him in a hug rather than in his normal defiant gesture, eyes sliding away. "He was crying, Carson. In pain." His eyes hardened and narrowed questioningly as he looked back. "Maybe you have a different definition where you come from but from where I'm sitting, it sure seems like rape to me."

Carson felt his heart almost break at the pain in John's eyes. "You were not yourself, man. The retrovirus--"

"You know what hurts most of all," John interrupted and Carson waited. He watched as John licked his lips in agitation. "At that moment, I never wanted anything as much as I wanted him. I would have killed for him...or died for him." His head dropped. "I still would," he whispered harshly.

The silence stretched between them, layered heavily with guilt and self-recrimination for the role each had played.

"What in hell happened?"

Carson let the memories from two weeks back flood over him...

***

"It's not working." Carson looked up from the sheet of paper handed to him by one of the lab technicians and stared at the monitors attached to Rodney before looking over to where Biro stood marking down information on a data pad.

"The Iratus conversion is reversing," she stated confidently.

"Aye...but his cells are still mutating at an alarming rate, like a fast spreading cancer."

Biro put down the pad and came over, reaching for the results of the latest series of tests. Her eyes widened in alarm. "I don't understand. He's rejecting his own DNA."

"Carson?"

He turned on hearing his name spoken weakly and moved closer to the bed, pushing aside all his fears for his friend and smiling down at Rodney. Years of experience had taught him how to hide the fear and sense of doom that pervaded him when a patient was not responding to treatment and he held fast to that training now. He had watched patients die before but, like Perna, this particular patient was not just a sick body come to him for treatment. This was his friend. A good friend in spite of all their good-natured teasing and sarcasm towards one another.

"I thought you were taking a wee nap, Rodney."

"Hurts...when I...breathe." He tried to pull away the nasal canula.

Carson nodded, reaching out to stop Rodney by grasping his hand, and feeling Rodney's fingers weakly wrap around his as Carson listened to the harsh, shallow breathing. Rodney's fingernails had gained a bluish tinge, denoting a lack of oxygen reaching his bloodstream, and his lips held that same blue, the only coloring on his ashen, pain-lined face. His hair was matted with sweat from earlier on in his treatment but Carson did not care, letting his other hand brush at the strands, offering physical touch as comfort.

Carson looked over his shoulder. "We need to put him on a respirator."

She nodded and rushed off to carry out his orders while Carson upped the dosage of morphine. He swallowed hard, knowing he had to tell Elizabeth so she could inform Rodney's off-world team and science colleagues. His gaze fell on the next bed where John remained in a medically induced coma while Carson's magic bullet converted the Iratus genetics back to pure John Sheppard. At this rate, Rodney would be dead before they brought John out of the coma, and maybe that was for the best. Silently, he wondered how he was going to tell John that they had lost Rodney, and then he gave himself a mental kick for falling into despair. He had to stay hopeful. He had to keep searching for an answer while breath remained in Rodney's body. He only wished he was not so tired from the days spent fighting to save John's life. Not that he regretted those hours but he had used up all his reserves yesterday.

He startled when a small hand lay upon his arm, turning to find Teyla Emmagan by his side. Her dark eyes were filled with concern as she looked from one bed to the other, finally resting on Rodney.

"I have rarely seen him so still."

"Aye. Rodney's always been a human tornado."

She smiled at the description. "Is there much more you can do for him right now?"

"Not really. I don't know why he's not getting better."

"Perhaps you need to rest."

"There'll be plenty of time to rest after--" he choked off his harsh words. "Aye. Maybe I should grab an hour or two. I can hardly think straight any more."

"I will stay with him while you rest."

Carson nodded, feeling heartsick at the thought of leaving but knowing he needed to rest, desperately, if he was to be of any further use to Rodney.

***

His thoughts returned to the present, and to the man now slumped in the seat opposite in despair.

"It was the only way to save him, and I'd give anything to see him have the gene back but..." Carson shook his head.

"Thought we'd already been through this. It's not your fault," he stated but his voice lacked all conviction, lacked all emotion, falling upon Carson flat and lifeless.

"No?" He laughed softly, without humor. "Well, if it's not my fault than you can hardly be held to blame either."

"How do I fix this?" John raised haunted eyes, desperately wanting an answer but Carson had none to give.

"I don't know." Carson sighed. "I really don't know."

***

Two Days Later:

"How do you fix something that's broken into tiny pieces?"

Teyla raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question, her eyes flitting across the room to spot Rodney McKay entering the mess hall with Ronon. As always, these days, Rodney looked reluctant to be in a public place, keeping his head and eyes cast down for the most part. He ignored the occasional greeting and grimaced as Ronon shoved a tray into his hands a little more sharply than needed but it drew the desired response as Rodney looked up with a spark of emotion that had been missing of late. She turned her attention back to John, who had slumped a little more in his seat on seeing Rodney.

"Is not a jigsaw puzzle such a problem?"

John looked up with a frown, the lines more noticeable about his tightened lips. She knew he had problems to resolve following the disaster with the retrovirus and her heart ached for both of her Atlantean friends. Elizabeth had confided in her concerning the possibly non-consensual sex between John and Rodney while John was under the influence of the retrovirus, hoping that her kinship to both men and her leadership abilities would help guide them through this ordeal. Both she and Elizabeth knew that John would never open up to Kate Heightmeyer. Elizabeth could order John to see the psychologist but he was too well trained in evasion techniques, in keeping secrets, to reveal anything of value. He knew the art of saying much but speaking little, letting people hear what they wanted to hear, concealing the truth behind clever words and barbs.

Sticking with the analogy of a jigsaw puzzle, he asked another question.

"What if some of those pieces are missing? Or too badly damaged to fit back in the puzzle?"

Teyla smiled softly.

"Only you can decide how important the puzzle is to you. You can choose to throw it away and start another...or you can try to piece together what you can find of this one, and then create new pieces to replace those damaged or lost."

Teyla leaned forward, her forearms on the table separating them, waiting while John absorbed her words. She could almost see the thoughts tumbling through his mind as he assessed the possibility of being able to rebuild his relationship with Rodney. She decided to offer one more piece of advice.

"A jigsaw puzzle need not be a solitary pursuit. I am certain there are those who would gladly aid you, perhaps working on their small corner of the same puzzle."

"Would you?"

She smiled broadly this time. "I have already started my small corner," she stated, recalling the way she had forced Rodney out of his laboratory earlier this morning, insisting that he resume his training sessions with her...

***

"I hardly require training sessions when I don't plan to go off-world."

"And if the Wraith should breach the city again?"

He looked up from his laptop with an almost disdainful expression. "Then I shall go hide behind a crate...or you, until they're gone or dead."

"I cannot always be there to protect you."

He sighed heavily. "You won't need to be. I'm not staying in Atlantis. I'm...going home."

Teyla frowned. "Did you not once say to me that Atlantis is your home?"

"Well...Yes...But that was before..." his words trailed off. "I don't belong here now."

"I will admit that...to have something and then to lose it is harder than to have never had it in the first place. However, the loss of the Ancient gene has not prevented you from continuing with your work. The city still needs you. Your people still need you."

"And I shall be helping them...back on Earth."

"I will miss you."

"I'm sure Dr. Zelenka or even Kavanagh will fill the gap adequately."

She sighed, settling down on the stool beside him. "Perhaps they could fill your science role in time but they could not replace you as my friend."

She saw the effect of her words on him, the color rising in his cheeks at her admission, and she smiled softly at the glimmer of hope it afforded her. Her eyes narrowed, knowing the best way to work through grief, whether for a person or for a lost gene--or both in Rodney's case--was to exercise the body. Dr. Beckett had talked of chemicals released in the brain during exercise, endorphins, but she knew only of the psychological benefits.

"If you do not intend to come to the practice room then I will force you to defend yourself here."

She pushed off from the stool and reached down to her bag, pulling out the twin sticks, rotating each in her hands with a grace that she knew always left Rodney awed and slightly fearful. This time was no different.

"We have some very delicate, expensive equipment in here and--"

"Then I suggest you get moving."

She swung at him and he jumped off his stool, backing off in shock as she advanced on him again.

"Wait, wait, wait. My laptop."

Teyla raised one eyebrow and waited patiently as he held both hands up to her, defensively. When he made no move back towards the laptop to turn it off, she reached across in one swift movement and depressed the switch for automatic shutdown.

"But, but...you could have seriously damaged....and what if I was in the middle--"

"You have been staring at the same blank screen for ten minutes."

He bristled at being caught doing nothing. "I was thinking....and how did you know about the auto---"

"The John Sheppard School of Computer Repairs."

Rodney gave a tight grimace, obviously recalling the incident on-board the Daedalus and John's remark when the only viable option to saving the ship was to shut down everything and reboot the entire system.

"Funny," he snarled but his eyes widened in alarm as Teyla advanced once more. "Practice room in one hour," he stated.

"Now," she replied firmly, knowing he would not show in one hour.

"Fine." He slumped both inside and out and she sighed at the sadness filling his soul.

"Do not concern yourself, Dr. McKay. I will go gentle on you."

"You will?" He brightened slightly.

She dipped her head and smiled mischievously, "...For this one time."

"Oh."

***

"I heard you chased him out of his lab with your sticks."

Her eyes flicked over to where Rodney and Ronon had finished selecting their food items. John's slight smile faded when he saw Ronon striding towards the table he shared with Teyla, leaving Rodney with little choice but to follow. On arriving, Ronon dropped into the seat next to Teyla without even the smallest greeting, either assured of his welcome or uncaring if not, leaving Rodney the seat next to John. Teyla noticed that both Atlanteans seemed uncomfortable with the situation and she thought John was going to make some excuse to leave but her raised eyebrow had the desired effect. He could not piece together anything unless he was prepared to sit down with the puzzle.

Knowing Ronon was not the most gregarious of companions, Teyla decided to start up a conversation.

"Dr. Kavanagh remarked that he had found the access port for the environmental controls." She smiled at Rodney's snort of disgust. "You are not impressed with his find?"

"Hardly. Zelenka and I discovered that some weeks back."

"And yet you did not tell Dr. Kavanagh."

"We offered. He refused...and as it kept him safely away from all the key systems in the control room...that worked out to everyone's advantage."

"You do not trust Dr. Kavanagh?"

"The man's an idiot."

John leaned in and Teyla could see his hopes of not being rebuffed. "I thought he was supposed to be a genius too, Rodney," he teased gently.

"Only in his dreams."

She tried not to be too obvious as she watched Rodney pushing the food around his plate when, in the past, he would have been bolting it down as if afraid someone was going to steal it from him. Knowing his predisposition to see food as a form of comfort, she had expected him to have an even greater appetite following the events with John and the retrovirus, rather than the reverse but he had lost weight, noticeably, since his illness. She knew Carson Beckett was concerned for his friend's loss of appetite and his refusal to discuss his problems with Dr. Heightmeyer.

"You going to eat that?" Ronon mumbled and stabbed his fork towards one of the chunks of meat, only for Rodney to pull the plate away but not quickly enough to avoid losing the item in question. Rodney frowned slightly, leaving Teyla assured that Ronon was working well on his part of the puzzle that was Rodney McKay, on getting him out of his laboratory and to the mess hall to eat. Even though Rodney managed only a few mouthfuls, she considered it good progress.

"Here." Ronon pushed a bowl of lemon Jello across the table at Rodney.

"It's lemon. I'm deathly allergic to lemon."

"Then give it to Sheppard."

Rodney hesitated before pushing the bowl across, not looking at John, but it was a good start; something to build upon. She smiled again and changed the subject, drawing John into the conversation this time as she reminisced on past events that brought more laughter than pain.

***

"What do you mean he's leaving on the Daedalus?" John asked, anger and shock betraying him momentarily. "When?"

Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat. "Sit down, John."

He stared at her for a moment and then slumped into the seat opposite, arms crossed tightly and expression colder than she had ever seen in the past. This was the John Sheppard who could activate a shield and kill fifty-five Genii, who could hunt down others and kill them without remorse, without regret, seeing it as a necessary duty. Yet, the pallor of his skin contrasted sharply with the color of his dark t-shirt, revealing the shock that lay beneath the hard exterior.

"He has asked to leave and I have found several reasons to delay the Daedalus's departure so far but Colonel Caldwell will not wait around forever. He plans to leave in two days, and Rodney plans to be on-board when the ship departs."

John looked away with his expression too lacking in emotion, and that told her all she needed to know. The more he felt, the less he revealed to the outside world.

"We've been here...eight, nine months? And I still feel like a stranger in this city sometimes...but Rodney? Perhaps it is...was the gene. Perhaps the city itself gives out vibes that the gene carriers pick up on subconsciously but, despite all the fear and the threat of the Wraith, I'd never seen Rodney so happy. So at home." She shook her head in remembrance of their recent return to Earth. "He was so excited when we had the chance to step through the Stargate and arrive back on Earth but within two weeks, he was jumpy and snapping at everyone. He was homesick...for *here*."

"And your point?"

"With or without the gene, he will not be happy on Earth. He needs to be here. We need him to be here...and I need you to find a way to convince him of that."

"I'm hardly the best person to ask after what I did--"

"No one holds you to blame for what happened, John. Not even Rodney."

"Well he ought to--"

"But he doesn't so get over it."

Shock registered in his eyes, the first real emotion she had seen in him other than self pity and self recrimination since the whole Ellia debacle but if John Sheppard needed a swift kick up the ass to get him out of his vicious circle of self blame then she was more than happy to oblige him. It was not only Atlantis that needed Rodney and John back in top form. She needed both her military and science heads too, and if that meant turning a blind eye to any relationship they formed and ensuring that certain military factions remained oblivious to it, then that was what she was prepared to do. However, time was running out. Once Rodney stepped on-board the Daedalus, they might lose him for good and she could not bear to see her small Atlantis family, formed through adversity and by fate, torn apart when there was still a chance to salvage it.

"Is that all?"

She straightened in her seat, staring him down. "Yes."

"Fine. I'll go tell Rodney he's not going."

"Good."

She felt her eyes twitch as she called him on his obvious sarcasm, taking unhealthy pleasure in his confused look when he realized he had been outmaneuvered.

"Fine," he stated again, pushing up from the seat and stalking towards her office door.

Elizabeth waited, hoping he would find some flippant parting shot but, though he paused on the threshold, he choked back whatever words formed, nodding once before walking away. The flash of pain in his eyes conveyed all his heart ache and once he was out of sight, Elizabeth let out the breath she had been holding, feeling all the fatigue from the past weeks catch up with her once more as her heart went out to both of them.

***

Rodney threw down the tool in frustration. This was ridiculous. He knew he could do this because he had done so several times before and yet, adjusting the power output from the ZPM this time around seemed so much harder. He could visualize the commands and the pathways, and he could even see the alignment of the crystals in his mind's eye but the images were not as clear as in past times, as if shrouded in a mist. He could not even put this down to the loss of the ATA gene as Zelenka had managed to perform this onerous task without its benefit.

"You are tired, Rodney."

Rodney sank back on his heels and sent a glare in Zelenka's direction. "Well, thank you. I think that's pretty obvious," he snapped back.

He let his head sink almost to his chest, eyes closed tight as he scrubbed at them with the heel of both hands. Just two more days, he thought. Just two more days and then he would be away from the city, away from the pitying glances and the well-meaning remarks. Perhaps then he would be able to close his eyes and focus on the thrum of the powerful engines of the Daedalus rather than on the emptiness from where his link to the city had been severed. Maybe that would assuage the loneliness and allow him a small respite, allow him to sleep soundly.

Soundly? He snorted softly. Lack of sound was most of his problem and not even the slap of the waves against the city could drown out the silence from where the thrum of the city had once filled his head.

A huge yawn overtook him and he snatched away his arm when Zelenka reached for him. "I'm fine."

"You need to rest. You are pushing yourself too hard."

"What I need is coffee. Lots of coffee."

He sat still for several minutes before pushing up to his feet, groaning at the pull of ill-used muscle and the residual weakness in his body. When the aroma of coffee filled the control room, Rodney sniffed, looking round in time to see Zelenka place a mug on top of the console close to him and a PowerBar next to it before stepping back a few paces; he stared at Rodney over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. Rodney knew this was another overture of friendship, one of many that Zelenka had made over the past weeks, all of which he had rebuffed until now, and if he had not wanted the coffee so badly then he might have turned away from this gesture too.

His heart raced as he reached out to the steaming mug, knowing it would be strong, black and sweet, just the way he liked it. Radek -- Zelenka always made good coffee. Yet, if he accepted this then wouldn't he be opening himself up to a fresh world of hurt when Zelenka sneered at his lack of self-control?

It's only coffee, he remonstrated silently. Only coffee. Only coffee now but..?

"It's only coffee," he stated softly, knowing it would not matter in two days anyway. He picked it up, hissing as the scalding liquid burned his tongue but he blew on it a few times and tried again, reveling in the taste. Yes, Radek made great coffee. He looked back almost begrudgingly. "You improved."

"You are welcome," Zelenka responded with a barely concealed smile.

Rodney froze, unsure what further response was necessary but Zelenka had already turned away and was working on the next part of the current problem. Taking a few more sips, Rodney let the caffeine slowly work its magic, pushing aside just a little of the bone weariness that had plagued him since succumbing to the retrovirus. When he had drained half the mug, Rodney put it down and picked up the PowerBar, taking a few bites before placing that by the mug and dropping back down beneath the console. He was surprised to find his head had cleared a little more than expected because not even the coffee and PowerBar could account for it completely. His lips twitched as he heard Zelenka humming softly in the background, realizing that this was another sound he had missed. The calibrations in his head seemed to flow easier, the crystal interfaces aligning fractionally better than last time and he smiled almost serenely as the power began to flow through the crystals once more.

"Ah...this is good. Much better, Rodney."

Minutes later, the ZPM was working at optimum power once more and Rodney sat back with a tired smile that held just a trace of regret. He patted the console almost affectionately before regaining his feet.

"I'll be in my lab working on the output ratios," he mumbled as he walked away without glancing back at Zelenka, making a small concession to pleasantries in payment for the coffee.

Zelenka smiled openly as he watched him leave.

****

John found Rodney in his laboratory, working alone as usual these days; he leaned against the door frame, watching him for several long minutes but Rodney seemed oblivious to his presence. He also seemed thinner than John could ever recall, with hollowed cheeks and his blue shirt no longer stretching across his chest so comfortably. Instead, it hung a little baggy over the top of his slightly rumpled pants. His hair had grown a fraction and a five o'clock shadow gave him a tired, disheveled appearance that reminded John of those last few days before the Wraith lay siege to Atlantis. None of them had slept well in those last few weeks and some of them, like Rodney, had foregone sleep in lieu of stimulants to keep them going to the very last minute...and beyond. Yet, even then he did not look as vulnerable and fatigued as he did now. The slump of his shoulders and the bow of his head gave him a forlorn air. The pallor of his skin, reflecting an unhealthy blue tinge in the light emanating from the laptop, made him look almost Wraith-like.

"Rodney?"

Even though he had spoken his name softly, Rodney startled, turning in shock with eyes too big and blue, filled with fear that did not dissipate the moment he saw John. His eyes flicked from one side of the lab to the other and John wondered if he was recalling the last time John addressed him in this laboratory. Yet John had little choice but to retread some of those steps as Rodney rarely left his laboratory these days unless he was needed to repair some part of the city--or unless he was chased out by Ronon or Teyla. John needed to draw Rodney from his lair so he could speak with him on matters that should not have been left so long.

"Can we speak privately?"

Rodney folded his arms defensively and leaned back against the worktop. "Okay."

John grimaced. "Not here. Some place less...public."

"Actually, I'd prefer some place a little more public, if you don't mind." His words were biting and antagonistic, almost daring John to disagree.

John drew in a deep breath. A private discussion in a very public area was not exactly what he had in mind but, under the circumstances, he owed Rodney that much. He nodded.

"Okay. Where do you have in mind?"

Rodney looked a little taken aback at John's easy capitulation, as if he expected John to bully his way into getting what he wanted, which tended to be most of the time if John was to be completely honest with himself. He saw Rodney struggling with an answer because he knew Rodney was avoiding public places these days unless absolutely necessary. He was rarely seen in the mess hall except when forced there by Ronon and he attended the briefings only when none of his 'underlings' would do, arriving late and making certain he was first out the door when Elizabeth signaled the end of the meeting. John knew that he avoided most of his colleagues these days too, no longer stroking his own ego and grandstanding to the exasperation of his science teams, and they seemed less effective for that loss. More importantly, Rodney avoided some of his closer friends like Zelenka and Beckett, though for different reasons.

He believed he had lost Zelenka's friendship over the Arcturus incident, with Zelenka's rejection of his apology hitting him far harder than John had realized no that John had taken notice. As for Beckett, the loss of the ATA gene had caused a rift between him and Rodney when Beckett refused to risk giving Rodney the gene therapy again for fear of a catastrophic reaction. John could understand Beckett's caution. According to Ronon, Rodney had been scant hours from death when Beckett reverted to using Rodney's original genetics. In those hours previous, Beckett must have been dying a little inside with every shallow, labored breath from Rodney's pain-wracked body. Going through such an ordeal once was bad enough and, selfishly, John felt grateful that he had been spared that sight.

"The mess hall?"

"Good idea. We can grab a coffee and a sandwich while we talk."

Rodney stared at him in bewilderment before drawing himself up a little taller. "I need a few minutes to finish off," he bristled.

John smiled softly. "Sure. I'll go grab us a table."

"Fine."

Once the door to the laboratory shut behind him, John let out a deep breath, long and slow. "That wasn't so bad."

Ten minutes later, he looked up to see Rodney hovering at the entrance to the mess hall, looking like a frightened deer that would spook if someone so much as sneezed a little too loudly near him. John pushed up from his seat and beckoned to Rodney, seeing him hesitate before walking along the line of tables to the secluded one in the corner. He placed his mug of coffee on the table and took the seat opposite John.

"No sandwich?" John asked.

"Not hungry."

John raised both eyebrows but Teyla had mentioned Rodney's lack of appetite and John had seen the evidence of that in the too thin frame. He took a moment to study Rodney closely, seeing the dark circles rimming his eyes and the complete down turn of his mouth where, usually, only one corner had a tendency to droop.

"I got an extra sandwich anyway. Just in case," he said, pushing the plate holding a pile of turkey sandwiches to the center of the table between them. He was concerned when Rodney did not jump at the invitation, half expecting him to snap up the sandwiches and eat as if it might be his last meal on Earth...or Atlantis in this case. Part of him had banked on that reaction, wanting to have just a little more time to prepare what he had to say, and hoping that anything he said would come across better if Rodney was comforted with food. Instead, he was left on unfamiliar ground, trying to make Rodney hold his gaze so he could attempt to read the emotions too carefully concealed for once.

John licked his lips indecisively, wondering how he ought to handle this before realizing that only the truth would do...But where to start?

"I was wrong to withhold my trust from you after Arcturus."

"You were?" Rodney seemed surprised and a little unsettled by his remark.

"I blamed you for a lot of things that weren't your fault."

"You-You did?"

"Yeah, I did. And I'm sorry."

The silence lengthened, which bothered John because he was used to Rodney filling in every silence with constant chatter on one subject of another. He expected remonstrations or retorts, perhaps a sarcastic response or two. Silence between them was unnerving and unnatural.

"I'm...sorry for what else happened between us," he added softly, frowning when Rodney showed the first real sign of emotion before his expression closed up; emotion that looked too much like bitter disappointment but John was afraid of reading it wrong despite assurances from Carson and Elizabeth that Rodney did not consider what he had done to be rape.

Rodney's expression might have given nothing away but the brittle tone of his words revealed far more.

"Apologies accepted, Colonel. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a number of tasks I need to--"

"Rodney." John decided to take the risk, halting Rodney midstream as he started to rise from the table. "I might be sorry for the way it happened...but not for it happening." That gained him Rodney's undivided attention. "I might not have been all there...but I know I wanted it to happen. I know I wanted you."

Rodney snorted almost disdainfully. "You didn't know what you wanted, Colonel. You were...bugSheppard."

John laughed in self-deprecation. "Personally, I think I prefer Lorne's term...SpiderShep. Sounds more like a superhero." He became serious once more. "It doesn't alter the fact that I wanted you and no one else."

"Then why did you leave?"

Leave?

John frowned. He had gone over the rape part a hundred times since the memory returned, trying to read the remembered emotions crossing Rodney's face; his pain and fear, Rodney's shock as his own body climaxed so quickly at John's hands. John wanted to believe that he had also seen pleasure and hope in Rodney's eyes, mingling with the doubts. What he had not done, though, was focus on what had happened after Rodney left the bed.

"I had a call. Beckett wanted me in the infirmary so I cleaned up and left. After that it gets hazy again."

He guided his thoughts back to those minutes following the most incredible sex he had in a long time...

***

With a sigh, John rolled off Rodney, falling to one side to sprawl out on the bed next to his lover. The heady scent of male sex and blood lay heavy in the air and he knew he had hurt Rodney, knew he had been a little too rough but, perversely, that was okay. Rodney had wanted this; Rodney had wanted him, his body aching for each and every touch, arching in need while soft cries of mingled pleasure and pain fell from his lips. Salty tears had started to dry upon his cheeks, his eyes no longer shining just in pain but in contentment too.

John's entire body thrummed with the pleasure of his release, heart racing, matching Rodney's pulse that, strangely, he could both sense and hear in the quiet of the room. He could feel the heat of Rodney's body along one flank and he began to turn onto his side, intending to encourage Rodney to remove the final layer of clothing that stopped them from coming together, flesh on flesh. He wanted to crawl into Rodney's arms and tighten his own hold on this most precious person.

The squawk of Rodney's radio made his hand falter and he watched as his lover scrambled out of their bed to answer the call. Rodney's hiss of pain excited John, reminding him of the deep possession, of being consumed by his lover's fire, held within the tight sheath of hot, living flesh. It had been the most incredible feeling, giving him a sense of freedom that had been missing from all of his previous sexual encounters

Yet, the eyes that turned back to him as Rodney ended the call held a glimmer of fear, of unease. John lay back quietly, watching with undisguised lust as Rodney disappeared into the bathroom, the blue shirt doing little to hide the gentle swells of his ass.

Rising up from the bed, John decided to follow, easily prepared to delay Rodney for those additional five minutes--or more.

His own radio squawked and, out of a fading sense of duty, John answered.

"Colonel, I need you to come to the infirmary right away."

John glanced at the closed door to the bathroom and sighed. He wanted to ignore the obvious worry in Carson's voice, knowing it had to be for him but preferring to brush it off. John no longer felt as wired as he had earlier. His body felt pleasantly sated; he felt good and strong and ready to face any problem head on. After cleaning himself with his worn t-shirt, he dressed swiftly, only noticing the state of the bed and the bright red droplets of blood among the wet stain of spilled semen once he had pulled on his boots. With quick movements, John stripped off the sheet and slung it into the basket in the corner with his soiled t-shirt to be washed later. He grabbed a spare sheet from the nearby cabinet and quickly made the bed with military precision. Now it was perfect again, ready for when he returned from the infirmary; ready for when he pulled Rodney into his arms again and showed him how much he desired him...

***

John refocused on the man sitting opposite. He wish he understood why the memory of being with Rodney had been lost so quickly once the retrovirus began to take a firm hold of his body, and why it was one of the last of his memories to be restored to him. It made little sense when he had recalled events both before and after with far less difficulty. It was if his mind had deliberately shrouded those memories, waiting for him to be strong enough to cope with the implications -- but that implied a subconscious desire to withhold that knowledge from himself.

"All my memories since Ellia's attack have been hazy at best but they are coming back...slowly." He leaned forward. "All I know is I wanted you then...and that hasn't changed now I'm one hundred percent John Sheppard again." John stood up. "Think about that before you step on-board the Daedalus."

***

Rodney stared at his coffee as John walked away, focusing on the steam rising, applying formulas to describe its swirling path just to take his mind off the conversation he'd had with John. He shook his head and picked up the mug, sipping its contents. None of this made sense. His life was supposed to be a complete mess with nothing good ever supposed to happen again. He had lost everything he valued; the trust of his friends and the respect of colleagues, the ATA gene. He had almost lost his life, though a small part of him would have seen that as a positive compared to the vast negative of his life these days. He could not concentrate, could not sleep. His body was weak and his mind felt wrong, as if a huge part of him was missing.

Just when he thought he had the answers, just when he thought he could turn his back on Atlantis and the people here and walk away, John had to go and complicate his life further. Not just John either. Elizabeth kept dropping by to chat, Teyla was constantly harassing him, demanding he practice with her. Ronon dragged him from his laboratory, forcing him to sit with him at meal times on some pretext that Rodney kept unwanted company away. Now, Zelenka was making him coffee again and, if he wasn't mistaken, even Kavanagh had greeted him politely in the corridor on his way to the mess hall.

When he slept, his dreams were full of strange imaginings; images of the city, of its beautiful corridors and atriums, of its majestic towers with their astonishing views across the sparkling ocean. His mind swept between the towers, arcing over the great city before diving deep inside to glide along the hidden pathways of power as the ZPm expanded new systems that had lain dormant for millennia.

None of it made sense anymore. Not the people or the flights of fancy that merely added to his distress as the thrum of the city remained perversely absent from his mind.

He looked up when someone slid into the seat opposite, irrationally hoping that it was John but concerned blue eyes held his.

"Carson."

"Hello, Rodney." Carson shifted nervously. "You missed your appointment so I thought I'd come find you."

"I couldn't see the point of wasting my valuable time in the infirmary when there's nothing wrong with me."

"That's a matter of opinion."

"Yes. My opinion."

"You don't look so good. Are you having trouble sleep--"

"I'm sleeping perfectly fine. Just have a lot to work to do, so if you've finished this interroga--"

"Hardly an interrogation. Rodney, you're not just my friend but my responsibility too."

"Well, I absolve you of all responsibility. Satisfied?"

Carson sighed heavily as they both knew what this was all about. "I'm sorry, Rodney. I cannot give you the gene therapy. It could kill you."

"And this isn't?"

"You won't die from not having the ATA gene." Carson replied softly. "I'm so very sorry, Rodney."

Rodney shoved back his chair harshly. "I have work--"

"Rodney..."

He glanced back at the stricken face but then turned away, wishing he could make Carson understand how much it hurt to lose the gene. He had grown so used to its presence that he had taken for granted the many times he used it in his day from the simple opening of doors and panels with single thought, to activating various Ancient technology with a touch. Yet it was more than that. He felt lost and alone in the city now, as if doors had deliberately closed against him. Atlantis no longer felt like home, and yet the dreams plagued him so he no longer felt so eager to abandon her either.

"I need time to think," he admitted softly but Carson misunderstood.

"One hour. Then I expect to see you in the infirmary."

Rodney nodded sharply before heading out of the mess hall. He needed time to think, away from all the people, away from the constant reminders of his losses, and away from the love shining in John's eyes. His head felt like it was about to explode, the throb of a massive migraine sending sparks behind his eyes as he stumbled into the nearest transporter and sent it to a remote destination. Stepping out onto one of the balconies, the fresh salt air slapped him in the face and he breathed in deeply, filling his lungs in the forlorn hope that it would clear more than just his body but his mind too.

The world started to spin around him, the towers contorting and swaying, the sea ebbing and flowing in huge swells that seemed to disappear moments before they engulfed him. He cried out as the world twisted out of shape and the ground came up too fast.

***

Carson's eyes slid up to the wall clock once more and he sighed heavily. He had given Rodney his one hour plus a few more minutes besides but there was still no sign of him. He hated having to order Rodney to come to the infirmary but he really had little choice in the matter. The last set of blood tests were not as encouraging as he had hoped and he wanted to keep a watch for any further deterioration hoping it was just a temporary abnormality. Carson tapped his radio mike

"Dr. McKay. Rodney. I want you to report to the infirmary now."

No answer and Carson sighed in exasperation, knowing how Rodney could be when he got into a snit.

"Rodney. I have large needles here that I'm willing to use on recalcitrant patients."

He hoped the standing joke of threatened medical violence might break through the wall Rodney had raised around both their professional and personal relationship but still there was no answer. Yet Carson knew Rodney too well--or at least he thought he knew him well enough to know he should have gained some response from him by now, even if it was just a snide retort. With fear chewing at the corners of his mind, Carson decided to play safe. He tapped his radio again.

"Colonel Sheppard. Have you seen Rodney?"

Sheppard's response came in immediately and Carson could hear the concern in his voice.

"No. I'll check with Teyla, Ronon and Elizabeth."

"Okay...and I'll check with Radek. Maybe he's hiding out in one of the laboratories."

Ten minutes later both men were standing with Zelenka by the city's sensor panel and Carson listened with growing concern as the search teams failed to locate their missing scientist. He watched as the screen activates, revealing a plethora of red dots that indicated a life sign. Double the number of scientists and military personnel lived on Atlantis now that the Daedalus was able to ferry people and supplies to the once cut-off and beleaguered city from Earth. Carson noticed that several bunches of small dots were located in more remote parts of the city, though all of those areas had been deemed safe by joint military and scientific teams recently but only one of those dots was in a place all alone. John noticed that single dot too and pointed to it.

"It has to be him. I'm going to--"

"He said he needed a little time to think. Maybe we should let him--?" Rodney's words from the mess hall had come back to Carson, making him wonder anew at what thoughts might be going through that clever mind.

"No. Something's wrong. I can feel it." He headed towards the nearest transporter.

"Then I'm coming with you." Carson snatched up his portable medical kit and raced after Sheppard, managing to slip into the transporter as the doors were closing. Within seconds they were in the corridor in a remote but recently approved sector, moving towards that lone life sign. Carson held back when they reached the balcony door, deciding it would be better to let John go in first just in case Rodney had simply switched off his headset so he could have time alone to think.

"Beckett! Get in here!"

Carson came running, faltering slightly when he saw Rodney lying deathly still on the ground with a small pool of blood beneath his head. He dropped to his knees beside the unconscious man, his fingers reaching out to the pulse point in Rodney's throat. Relief filled him when he found what he was looking for, though the pulse was weak and thready, but at least Rodney was alive.

"Give me your jacket, Colonel," he ordered as he felt Rodney's cold skin, knowing Rodney must have been lying here for some time with the breeze coming off the sea cooling his flesh. He draped it over Rodney while simultaneously sending a medical emergency call to his staff, telling them what he needed, and telling them to move quickly. Probing the head wound gently gained a soft moan of pain but no return to consciousness; Carson spoke softly to him anyway.

"Easy, Rodney. You took a wee fall and bumped your head."

When he glanced across Rodney's body, Carson could see John's fear written all too plainly in his eyes, for once not hidden behind the military front he used to conceal his emotions from potential enemies.

"Head wounds tend to bleed a little so there's no cause for alarm."

John would know this but Carson had felt obliged to remind him but he could see John was not pacified by his words.

"I know. What worries me is why he fainted in the first place, and how long he's been lying here unconscious."

"Aye," Carson agreed miserably. "Though I know he's not been eating or sleeping well these past weeks since his illness. Could simply be that a couple of nutritious hot meals and an IV will see him right as rain."

John nodded his head reluctantly as he followed Carson's instructions explicitly to help move Rodney into a safer position where Carson could tend to the head wound. He probed a little, gaining another soft moan when he found the jagged cut that was not so easily visible through the blood-matted hair; Carson grimaced.

"He might need a stitch or two in that."

The clatter of noise from the room beyond had both men looking towards the open balcony door. Carson turned all his attention back to his patient as his medical team rushed in, quickly issuing instructions that would have Rodney secured for transport back to the infirmary where Carson could tend to him more easily.

He noticed John holding Rodney's cold fingers tightly, recalling the scene in the infirmary when Rodney had been the demonstrative one, kissing a comatose John Sheppard before admitting to having unprotected sex with the Colonel. Carson said nothing, almost apologetic when he had to break the hold so they could place Rodney onto the gurney but his heart felt a little lighter just through knowing some of that affection was returned. They moved swiftly through the corridors, back towards the transporter with John following a few steps behind, his face emotionless when he was forced to wait behind with one of the medical technicians because there was insufficient room in the transporter for all of them. Yet he caught up quickly, following them into the infirmary only to be stopped by one of Carson's nurses as the gurney was taken through a door into what Carson had labeled his treatment room.

Once more, Carson was impressed with the professionalism of the men and women chosen to support him in Atlantis. They divested Rodney of his clothing swiftly, and irrigated the wound to flush out any dirt and debris. He knew that many had interned in Emergency Rooms across the world, bringing those essential skills to Atlantis along with the specialisms they had chosen to pursue later in their careers.

The gash in Rodney's head was not serious but Carson knew it was the result of the fall rather than the cause of it. He ordered a series of tests that were more extensive than those he had planned to run, wanting to ensure that fainting was not a symptom of something far more insidious. The results would take several hours to come back and, in the meantime, Carson planned to keep Rodney in the infirmary under observation no matter his complaints.

He watched as the Ancient medical scanner ran the length of Rodney's form, his eyes checking the contrasting colors on the scanner display and catching shadows that should not be there. He glanced across at one of his top diagnosticians wanting to hear confirmation, sighing raggedly when Simmons nodded gravelly.

Under his critical eye, his medical team moved Rodney into the infirmary, setting up an IV to stabilize Rodney's condition and to bring his electrolyte balance back closer to normal levels. Once they had Rodney settled into an infirmary bed, Carson pulled back the curtain and found a reason for the slight rise in the noise levels. Although they were talking quietly, the infirmary had gained a few extra visitors concerned for his patient. Elizabeth fell silent and turned to Carson, her face pinched with worry. He knew she had spent a lot of her free time recently trying to bolster Rodney's waning confidence and self-esteem since both Arcturus and then the loss of the ATA gene.

That aspect puzzled Carson. He had a natural occurrence of the gene but, try as he might, he could not figure out why the loss had affected Rodney so terribly. However, there seemed to be more at play than just an inability to open doors with his mind or initialize a piece of equipment with a touch, for Radek handled that aspect with ease, simply relying on others with the gene to help him when needed. Admittedly, Rodney was not the best at team working but, still, he was willing to take advantage of his people's skills to the benefit of all so using Miko or even one of the military like Stackhouse should have been frustrating and annoying rather than crippling. Carson wondered if there was another element to the gene that he had overlooked.

To that end, he had spent part of last night lying in his bed concentrating on the mental aspect of the gene and the city around him but felt just the slightest, almost insignificant hum. It was weak, like his version of the gene and, perhaps, a little annoying now that he had noticed it. Carson sighed. His thoughts returned to the gene therapy that he had pioneered. He had been both surprised and pleased when Rodney's body had taken to the gene so willingly, and so strongly. Perhaps it could not compare to John's incredible natural control but Rodney's ability ranked second highest on Atlantis despite being artificially encoded. Perhaps he should ask John if he felt anything similar to that subliminal hum, wondering if the mental component could be addictive like a drug, and causing the same withdrawal symptoms.

"How is he?" Elizabeth stepped forward, her eyes searching Carson's.

"Not good. I'll have to wait for the remaining test results to come back before I know for certain."

"Know what for certain? What do you think it is?" John asked and Carson shook his head.

"I'd rather not speculate at this time."

"But you know something is wrong."

Carson offered a tight grimace but he was unprepared to let them know that this was no simple fainting fit but a seizure. He wanted to see the results of the DNA testing before he confirmed his worst fear.

"Doc?" John stared at him intensely, refusing to let Carson drop his eyes.

"I think his DNA is breaking down."

"The retrovirus?" Elizabeth asked in shock, her eyes flicking across to John and Carson knew her concern would also be for the Colonel if that was the case.

"No. I think that giving him back his original DNA had merely bought him some extra time."

"There has to be some--"

"You think I'm not trying, Colonel?" Carson stared down John. "You think I want to see one of my best friend's die because of my stupid mistake?"

"Carson, you were not to blame for--"

"Oh give over, man! We both know I should never have opened my mouth about the retrovirus near Ellia. If I'd not been so obsessed with trying it out on live Wraith cells there and then I'd have taken all the samples I needed for testing and come back for more later, rather than take the bloody stuff with me." He stopped, breathing heavily. "It was sheer arrogance, and I've being paying for it every day since."

John looked away and Carson could not blame him. He was paying too, and John Sheppard did not deserve that.

"Dr. Beckett? How long?"

Carson looked down at the small but strong brown hand that lay on his forearm, looking up to meet Teyla's soulful eyes and wishing he did not have to hurt these people with the bitter truth.

"Perhaps a day...probably less. The effects are escalating."

She nodded solemnly and squeezed his arm before releasing it. Carson glanced over his shoulder as she made her way to the bed to stare down at Rodney. Last time, she, Elizabeth and Ronon had kept up the vigil while John lay in a coma as his body recovered from the retrovirus, sparing John that ordeal. As he watched her say a private goodbye, touching her forehead to Rodney's for several long seconds before drawing back and kissing him on the cheek, Carson knew that this time would be different. This time John would be the one to sit beside their dying friend, watching and waiting for that final breath.

***

He was gliding again between the tall towers, gazing down on the wonders of Atlantis, the thrum of the city pounding in time with his heart beat. Elegant and beautiful, the towers stretched up into the sky, the light of a dying day reflecting orange and gold off the metallic surfaces, blinding him with flashes of contrasting blue and silver as light struck at impossible angles upon the magnificent architecture. Below, the sea was darkening from Caribbean blue to inky black as it merged with the night sky, tiny pinpoints of light blazing into being in unfamiliar configurations that seemed to make sense. He could name constellations and almost see the small worlds revolving around distant suns, once bearing the fruit of life but now plundered by the Wraith.

He turned his eyes from the stars before all joy was lost within despair, diving into the depths of the city, navigating through the long trenches between city sectors and recalling the streams of light that dashed across the sky as Wraith darts zipped between the towers. He could feel the city cry as darts plunged into her, tearing into her beautiful walkways, blackening her shining skin, momentarily feeling the startled and fearful cry of each lost voice as it was snatched away by her enemy; the rail guns falling silent.

He dove towards the balcony, non-corporeal as he passed through walls, through corridors and galleries, and into the arteries of Atlantis, surging through her power conduits, spreading out through her neural network to the very heart of her, his mind expanding as the hum of the city filed the empty corners of his mind once more.

Home.

His body grew heavy, no longer able to sustain his flight and he dropped from dizzying heights to land firmly within his human form, the hum of the city still echoing deep in his mind. Heavy eyelids fought gravity, opening to slits as the physical proximity of another warm body assailed his senses, his fingers tightening weakly around fingers.

"Rodney?"

He tried to focus on the desperate yet hope-filled voice, a familiar, beloved voice that had offered him everything almost too late.

"John?"

"Hey," he gave in greeting before calling for Carson in an excited tone. Then he was whispering to Rodney again, words of hope and desire, and Rodney tried to grasp them, wanting to hold on tightly to fresh promises as the welcoming hum settled into the back of his mind. His body was too weak, his limbs too heavy but his spirit soared as he climbed back to the pinnacles of the city with the feel of John's fingers wrapped around his, and the beat of the city in his soul.

***

"Beckett!"

John watched as Carson Beckett raced into the infirmary, seeing the hardened exterior that showed he was expecting the worst. Confusion filled his dulled eyes as he glanced at the monitors. He placed his stethoscope in his ears and pressed it to Rodney's chest, eyebrows arching, eyes widening before turning to the other doctor who had raced in behind him. Medical jargon spilled from him, indecipherable to all but another of his kind but John did not need to understand the words. He could see hope in the blue eyes that held his for a moment.

"I don't believe it. I don't bloody believe it," he uttered in awe rather than in resignation.

Another three hours passed before Beckett finished going over all the fresh test results, before John could breathe a little easier once more.

"I don't know how but...but his body has rewritten all his DNA back into the ATA gene modified form but...but naturally. I don't understand it but, quite frankly, I don't bloody care." Beckett's eyes were glowing by now, with relief and happiness. "He's going to be fine, Colonel."

***

The lights of the infirmary had been dimmed a short while earlier but John refused to leave Rodney's side. Carson might be convinced that Rodney was fine but then, Carson had sounded convinced the last time around too. As far as John was concerned, Rodney was not fine until John had taken his own measure of him. However, Rodney was not being that co-operative right now, falling asleep within seconds of his eyes opening earlier.

He looked up as soft footsteps landed closer, watching Doctor Biro out of the corner of his eyes as she took a fresh blood sample from the line set up earlier, refusing to look away even though he hated the sight of Rodney's blood. He was not squeamish for blood and gore. In his business he could afford to be because he had seen enough of it as an evac helicopter pilot. What he hated was knowing that it was Rodney's life blood that was being drawn; blood that Rodney needed to grow stronger.

Biro offered a small smile of apology for disturbing John and he watched her until she disappeared back into the laboratory area. He knew she would be running more tests on Rodney's DNA to verify what Carson already believed. He thought back to that conversation earlier...

***

"I don't know how you can say he's fine...just like that?"

"Look, Colonel, when you were infected with the Iratus retrovirus, not all of your cells had mutated. It was a...creeping process, spreading up from the point of infection. Your DNA still existed in an, admittedly, small percentage of your body. When we created the magic bullet from Iratus embryo stem cells, we placed a copy of your DNA inside that overwrote the mutated cells. It was specifically targeted towards those mutated cells only. With Rodney...his cells were already genetically altered by the ATA gene therapy so, even though the magic bullet was supposedly only targeting the Iratus cells, the code it overwrote was...corrupted some how. Possibly as a side effect to the gene therapy. Giving him back his original DNA was a long shot at best because it would have to overwrite both the modified Iratus DNA and the ATA gene modified DNA. It seemed to work but...but I had a few doubts, which is why I was constantly checking."

"You had doubts and you said nothing?"

"If I was wrong then I'd be worrying everyone for no good reason." He swallowed. "And I wanted to be wrong."

John looked down, feeling betrayed by Beckett. He had trusted Beckett to tell him the truth, not to hide it from him and possibly even from Rodney. He frowned and looked back up, holding Beckett in an intense gaze, refusing to allow him to look away.

"Did Elizabeth know?"

Beckett sighed and nodded slightly. "Aye. I told Elizabeth, and we both agreed to wait and see."

"You should have told me."

"When? When should I have told you? When you were in a medically induced coma? When you were still recovering with little memory of what had happened over the past two weeks?"

"Well, put like that, maybe not straight away...but you should have told me a few days back when I found out he'd been sick." John tightened his lips in anger before adding. "I had a right to know--"

"No, Colonel. You did not have a right to know. Rodney is not military and Rodney is not your patient."

"He's my friend--"

"Aye, and mine too...and I did what I thought was in his best interest."

John looked away in anger and frustration because he knew Beckett was right...to a point. He still believed Beckett or Elizabeth should have told him of their concerns for Rodney's health.

"Still doesn't answer why he should be fine now."

"Look, I won't pretend to understand how but all the corrupted DNA has been repaired. All the shadows, the cancerous cells have been eradicated. If I knew how this had happened I'd be pioneering a revolutionary new treatment for cancer. The latest series of blood tests have shown no anomalies in his cells. They are all Rodney again. Rodney as he was before contracting the retrovirus, and perhaps even better than before."

"And you don't know why."

"No." Beckett's eyes dropped away.

"But?"

Beckett took a seat and stared hard at John for a few moments. "We know there's a mental component to the ATA gene, and I've often wondered if the reason why Rodney's ability is stronger than everyone else's--excepting for you, Colonel--is because he's more than just highly intelligent. He's a genius. His brain could give the Ancient's a run for their money...though I'm not talking about the ascended ones, mind."

Beckett frowned. "Colonel? Have you noticed a low hum in the back of your mind when on Atlantis?"

John wondered at the change of subject but decided to play along. "Not just on Atlantis though it's strongest here."

"Is it a problem when you go off-world?"

"Not especially. In fact, it sort of disappears when I go off-world." He noticed the way Beckett was staring at him with the frown deepening. "...And that can be a little disconcerting...occasionally."

"Like homesickness?"

"Yeah. This leading somewhere?"

"Rodney or Radek would have a better idea but could Atlantis have one of those artificial intelligences that I've heard of on Earth?"

John had no answer for him but he planned to ask Zelenka tomorrow. Until then, he was taking no chances, preferring to stay by Rodney's side until he saw those blue eyes open again with full awareness...

***

More hours past and John began to drift away into his familiar and welcome dream of flying. Since returning from Earth, a mystery presence flew alongside him more often, hidden just in his shadow but mirroring his moves and feeling the same exhilaration. That presence had been missing since John contracted the retrovirus but John sensed its return this time, feeling the warmth envelop him. He twisted and turned, soared and dived through towers that stretched high into the air, feeling an echo of joy from his companion but, this once, John held back, allowing the other to lead. He saw no recognizable form, just swirls of color that dived headlong into the walls of the city, passing through with ease to sweep through the inner beauty of the city. John had never followed these pathways before but he knew he could trust his guide, knew it implicitly, feeling the hum inside his mind suffused with warmth and pleasure. He drew up alongside the other, reaching out to touch the iridescent being as it coalesced into a semblance of physical form...

John snapped open his eyes, bolting upright as he stared down in time to see eyelashes fluttering as Rodney fought his way back to consciousness, his eyes opening to reveal the blue of John's dream.

"I dreamed I was flying," Rodney breathed softly, eyes struggling to remain open. "With you."

He fell back asleep before John could respond but John felt the worry in his mind ease. "You're going to be fine, Rodney," he whispered before leaning in to kiss him gently.

***

Radek pushed the glasses up his nose as he contemplated Carson's theory that the city might have an artificial intelligence. It was not beyond the realms of possibility as, even on Earth, A.I. research had progressed amazingly fast over the past decade, and the Ancients had been way ahead of Earth.

"Possible."

"Possible." Sheppard repeated back at him but Radek could tell by his tone that he had expected more of an answer than one word.

"Rodney has affinity with the computer system that is...amazing, despite claim of being genius. Much knowledge seems intuitive to him so artificial intelligence linking to the ATA gene could be rational explanation."

For the past year, Rodney had been the main connection to the computer systems in Atlantis, initializing pathways, repairing damaged sectors of the computer, and accessing the Ancient database most often via the mental link provide by the ATA gene therapy. Others had the ATA gene but not necessarily the mental ability to follow the convoluted logic pathways. Radek knew that he could have been a serious intellectual contender if the gene therapy had worked on him too but, instead, he had to rely on others with the gene to make the more delicate repairs to the city, which is why he tended to leave those tasks to Rodney.

"How do you think this artificial intelligence would react if it lost its link to Rodney? Could it...?" Sheppard asked.

"Create new link?"

Radek thought of the way a computer virus could attack a Bluetooth device by uploading itself without requiring a physical connection. Once it had gained access, it could rewrite code--DNA--to make it suitable for its needs. He straightened. If Atlantis had an artificial intelligence then it might believe that it needed Rodney.

"So it is theoretically possible that Atlantis could have...rewired him?"

"Theoretically...Yes."

Once more, Radek regretted the ancestry that had left him wholly human. Although both Carson and Rodney had worked on this problem as time allowed between missions and Wraith attacks, Radek was uncertain if it would ever be resolved in his lifetime for there had to be more to it than one simple gene that could be switched on or off. If that was the case then the more highly advanced Wraith would have developed a means of incorporating that gene within their genetic make-up millennia ago, giving them access to all the Ancient technology left scattered across the Pegasus galaxy. Instead, Radek was convinced that whatever Carson had found was purely the on switch that triggered as yet unknown genetic changes in someone who was a descendant of the Ancients, activating recessive genes found elsewhere on their genome. It was the only answer that made any sense.

John nodded and gave a half smile before he left, knowing he was leaving Radek with many new questions about the nature of this incredible city and its former inhabitants. Radek watched him go, heaving a sigh and muttering softly under his breath in his mother tongue, knowing these questions might never be truly answered and yet they would eat away at him now.

***

Three Days Later:

Carson had relented, finally, allowing him to leave the confines of the infirmary where he had slowly been going mad from inaction. He could sense the city in the back of his mind once more, often seeking that comforting hum just to reassure himself that it existed. Rodney smiled as he tapped the crystal keys of the console, understanding the patterns of light and allowing his mind to follow the commands intuitively as they corrected yet another small imbalance in the city-wide system, bringing power flowing through disused conduits to reactivate another small portion of the long-dormant city. Every time he did this he felt the slightest thrill, as if the city was stretching out her arms like a sleeper awakening, all soft and gentle on his mind.

He sensed rather than heard the door slide open behind him, glancing back over his shoulder to find John Sheppard leaning nonchalantly against the door frame in a familiar pose, eyeing him carefully.

"Colonel." He tried to keep his tone matter-of-fact but Rodney could feel the increased thump of his heart just from knowing John was there.

"I thought we'd gone beyond rank when we're not on a mission?"

"And I distinctly recall you saying we should stick to rank when we are both on duty. Or was that some other Colonel talking? Maybe I should contact Caldwell and--"

"As of five minutes ago, I am not on duty."

"But I, on the other hand--"

John raised a hand to forestall him before tapping his wristwatch. "You were supposed to be off-duty two hours ago."

"Really?" Rodney double checked his own wristwatch before looking about nervously. "I had some important...You're not going to tell Carson?"

"Not if you stop what you're doing and come with me."

Rodney's stomach churned with a sense of deja vu that was both exciting and worrying. He nodded tightly and closed down his laptop before following John into the corridor leading to the transporter. Once inside, Rodney's stomach flipped a few more times when John pressed the location closest to his quarters. Memories of the last time John had taken him to his room returned and Rodney was uncertain if he wanted a replay despite the desire that licked at the corners of his mind. He wanted to be more than a fuck buddy. He wanted more from John than fifteen minutes of rough sex with not so much as a thanks or a goodbye afterwards.

He stumbled out of the transporter in John's wake still uncertain what he should do for his own peace of mind, though his body seemed too willing to simply follow on behind John. Upon reaching the threshold of John's room, John stopped him from entering with a gentle touch and a simple, "Wait here," throwing Rodney into greater confusion.

Rodney did as he was asked, his eyes widening when John came back out a moment later with the infamous picnic basket that he had taken out to the pier with Chaya.

"Is there any food in there? I must have missed fifty meals over the past few weeks and my recent brush with death has left me--"

"There's food there, Rodney."

"I hope you remembered my intolerance towards--"

"No citrus."

"No citrus," Rodney echoed.

"No. None. Not even a lemon drop," John added as he led them back to the transporter and then onwards to a fairly large room where a soft dais lay in the center. "Okay?"

Rodney watched from the doorway as John spread a blanket over the top of the dais and sat down before beckoning Rodney to follow. Once more Rodney obeyed, easing down carefully and keeping as far distant as he could go and yet still stay on the blanket. He was intrigued by the basket and its possible contents and hardly noticing when John mentally locked the door behind them and told him to get comfortable. The basket went onto the floor beside John, just out of Rodney's reach much to his annoyance.

"Thought we'd relax a little together, have something to eat, a little Athosian moonshine and then..." John smiled almost coyly, turning his most charming smile on Rodney.

Concentrating on the something to eat, he thought he had missed the final part. "And then?"

"You're the genius, Rodney. I think you can figure that one out."

"I can?" He puzzled for a moment before realization set in. "Oh."

John picked up a remote control and aimed it towards one side of the room. Only then did Rodney spot the MP3 player with small speakers attached as the soft strains of a haunting melody filled the room, stunning Rodney.

"Amazing acoustics in here," John pronounced before lying back on the blanket and falling silent, a smug smile playing about his lips.

His eyes held Rodney's, warm and welcoming, and Rodney settled down beside John, pillowing his head on his hands as the music swept over him. He could not recall the last time he went to a concert or even played music loudly. Very occasionally, when he could not sleep because his mind was spinning over too many equations and life or death issues, he would put on earphones and listen to soothing music, let it wash over him and cleanse his mind. His PDA was his official one personal item, that and the dozens of flash cards filled with music, films and TV shows suitably compressed for an optimum playback experience.

Rodney sighed. In the first few months after arriving on Atlantis, he knew John had wondered how he managed to have so many PowerBars in his possession, even when they were drawing close to the end of their supplies. Loaning out flash cards and even his PDA on occasion had netted its own rewards and once John found out about the PDA, he had borrowed it too.

With the arrival of the Daedalus, supplies were no longer such a pressing issue and opportunities for a few more personal items arose so most of the expedition had their own PDA or MP3 player now. Nonetheless, Rodney made sure he spent some of his time on Earth acquiring lots of new music and film to share, a task made far easier with the help of Daniel Jackson who had been amassing a fair number for him in his absence.

Yet, no one had mentioned this room and its amazing acoustics, and Rodney was certain it would be equally good if turned into a small movie theater.

As the final strains of the song faded, John angled the remote towards the player once more, turning down the volume as the next song began. He sat up and began to delve through the basket, using his body to block Rodney's view so Rodney sat up as well. He angled one way and then the other but could not see the contents.

"If you don't give me something to eat soon, I'll be too weak from hunger to get to and then."

John smiled over his shoulder, digging a little deeper before turning back to Rodney. He tossed over sealed container, watching with mild amusement as Rodney opened the lid to find several rounds of turkey sandwiches. Not one to turn down any offers of food, Rodney grabbed one and began eating, stopping and frowning when John laughed softly as he, too, reached for a sandwich.

"What?" he mumbled around a mouthful.

"There's no rush. We've got plenty of time, Rodney."

"Tell that to Zelenka and the Wraith," Rodney shot back. Since coming to Atlantis he had lost count of the number of times he had gained only a mouthful of whatever meal he was trying to eat before some emergency dragged him away. Everyone thought it was a joke but he could become seriously ill if he did not eat enough each day especially now he had regained his appetite.

Rodney chewed a fraction slower when no one called him over the radio, deciding to take the risk this once. He leaned back onto one elbow and watched carefully as John put down his sandwich after a couple of bites, feeling a little worried that, maybe, he had overstepped some hidden mark or committed some major faux-pas. That had always been his problem. Some of the social niceties seemed to escape him until it was far too late to take his foot back out of his mouth.

"I'm-I'm sorry. I didn't mean--" Rodney waved towards John and his half-eaten and now discarded sandwich.

"It's okay, Rodney. I'm just not as hungry for turkey sandwiches as I thought I'd be."

"Oh. Okay. Then you won't want this." Rodney grabbed the final sandwich and took a huge bite before John could change his mind.

"Be my guest," he replied with a hint of sarcasm as Rodney shoveled in the last piece and licked his fingers.

"Is there any dessert?" Rodney tried to work around John to get to the basket but John kept deflecting any attempts, keeping its contents hidden and out of reach, much to Rodney's growing frustration. He began to wonder if John was teasing him deliberately. John turned back holding out another sealed bowl, which he uncovered slowly, the scent quickly filling the air between them.

"Double choc muffins," he looked to John in awe.

The Daedalus had brought all the ingredients on the last run but Rodney always managed to get to the mess hall too late for the finished product and no-one remembered to save him any. He had started to believe it was a conspiracy, that or the universe really did hate him. Rodney reached for one only for John to draw the container back.

Finally, he snapped in frustration, "If you want me to put out then--"

"Oh I do. So...what will one double choc muffin, freshly made, get me?"

Rodney looked at it longingly, the incredible aroma making his mouth water. "Anything," he breathed.

"That's what I was hoping," came the smug reply. He handed over a single muffin to Rodney, smiling broadly.

Rodney was in heaven. It was every bit as good as it smelled and he devoured it quickly until all that remained was the sticky remnants on his fingertips.

"Good?"

"Oh yeah."

"You missed a bit."

John caught two of Rodney's fingers, drawing them to his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tips before stroking along the length. He pulled back, letting the fingers slip from his mouth with an audible pop, eyes smoldering with desire. Rodney was mesmerized by the glistening lips, and the tip of a tongue that snaked out to wet those lips once more. He started to lean in, lips almost touching when John drew back and turned away, delving into the basket again and producing a bottle and two cups. He held them up triumphantly.

"Athosian moonshine."

Rodney sat back in growing frustration, having no choice but to accept the cup thrust into his hand. He sipped at the moonshine cautiously, recalling how potent it had been the first time he had tried some, courtesy of Teyla. This time he was pleasantly surprised by the warm, mellow taste that danced on the edge of his tongue, the sweetness of something akin to honey exciting his taste buds. Rodney gulped down the rest of the moonshine quickly.

"This is good."

"I can tell....and don't be so shocked. The Athosians have spent time improving on it...after your remark to Teyla that you wanted to use the last batch as industrial cleaner."

Rodney flushed with embarrassment, recalling how he had slighted not just Teyla but her people too. But then, how was he supposed to know that they took their brewing seriously? At least her only response was a seriously annoyed expression and a raised eyebrow...though he was still certain she let that branch snap back into his face deliberately on their next mission. However, if this latest brew was the result of his comment then it had been worth it. He took another sip.

"So, Rodney...how was your day?"

"My day?" Rodney looked confused for a moment but then he grinned. "Pretty good actually. Everything seems to be back to normal in here." He tapped his head and John returned his grin with a pleased smile.

John listened as Rodney carried on with a list of today's activities and accomplishments. After weeks of concern for his health and mental well-being it was good to see Rodney's face so animated and suffused with pleasure, even when he talked of scientists that he, generally, did not get along with. However, most people had been amazingly supportive over the past weeks even though Rodney had done his damnedest to drive all of them away. They seemed to understand the pain he was going through, prepared to give him a little time and some space to think things through. Yet, no one had anticipated his second life-threatening collapse, except possibly for Beckett but if John's theory was correct, then Atlantis had caused the second relapse as it corrected the DNA damage. The Daedalus had returned to Earth the day after Rodney's collapse as scheduled but thankfully, without Rodney on-board and, now that he had recovered, John knew he did not have to worry about losing Rodney to Earth. Neither of them had a reason to leave Atlantis.

The background music played on softly and John smiled as Rodney visibly relaxed, even copying John as he untied and kicked off his shoes before stretching out his legs in front of him. He grabbed the bottle and refilled Rodney's cup.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

John smiled. "Nope. This stuff has less alcohol volume than a Coors light." John leaned forward, stroking one finger down Rodney's forearm and gaging his reaction, which seemed pretty good if that slight flush was anything to go by. "I want you pretty much sober for what I plan to do with you."

He noticed Rodney's flicker of annoyance when John drew his hand back, biting back a smile when Rodney got straight to the point.

"How about a little less talk and more action?"

John raised both eyebrows. "That's pretty good coming from you," he replied teasingly, placing his cup on the floor out of harm's way and crawling closer until he was straddling Rodney's thighs.

John took the cup out of Rodney's hands and set it down out of the way before cupping Rodney's face in both his hands. He leaned in and kissed him gently, lips barely grazing before he pulled back, silently observing Rodney's reaction but finding no fear lurking in the beautiful eyes. He sat back a little on Rodney's thighs, letting Rodney take his weight and watched as Rodney's tongue snaked out to lick over his lips as if trying to capture the remnants of their light kiss. When he leaned in again, Rodney met him part way, moaning softly as John ghosted another kiss over his lips, tasting the sweetness of moonshine still lingering there. He felt lips move against his, pressing firmer, harder, and parting a fraction, offering deeper possession that John willingly accepted as he teased the lips further apart with his tongue, stroking along the sensitive surface before plunging gently inside. The smoothness of teeth gave way to the soft wetness of flesh, tongue tentatively meeting its mate, coiling and rubbing, tasting and darting away gently as if making formal acquaintance rather than sharing an intimacy. John pressed deeper, striping over the soft palate, exploring every surface, wanting to force that intimacy, to seek and know every part of this man. When he retreated, his soft licks beckoned Rodney to following, drawing him into his own mouth, welcoming the intimate exploration.

Rodney moaned again, so softly, yet the vibration rippled through John, sending any remaining blood pooling south to his groin, his body aching from the sheer simplicity of this kiss and the complexity of need it provoked. Nerve endings ignited with a slow burn, heart hammering in his chest as all thought collapsed to this single moment, to this primeval need to claim Rodney for his lover, as his beloved.

With deep regret, he pulled away, eyes drawn to the swollen, flushed lips that he had taken so desperately towards the end. A liquid pool of darkness had swallowed almost all of the blue in the desire-glazed eyes and John yearned to plunge deep into those depths, to be swallowed up in the need and lust, but he had made a promise. He had made a promise to himself to give Rodney all the romance that he had withheld unwittingly last time. He wanted Rodney to know that he was not just another body to fuck, that he meant more than that to John...that he meant everything to John.

He let his hands drop to Rodney's shoulders then downwards, smoothing inwards across Rodney's chest as his palms glided over firm muscle, hearing Rodney's sharp intake of breath as his hands drifted over the tightened buds of sensitive nipples. John grinned, having hoped this was an erogenous zone, one that he could explore with hand and tongue. He tilted his head and nuzzled into Rodney's neck as his hands reached the hem line of Rodney's shirt, slipping beneath the material to smooth over warm flesh. He nibbled at the soft throat, feeling the thrum of Rodney's pulse against his lips and murmuring approval as Rodney's hands reciprocated, delving beneath John's t-shirt to glide smoothly up and down his sides.

Rodney was arching towards him now, head thrown back, breathing ragged as John bunched up the blue t-shirt, drawing it upwards and over Rodney's head in one swift movement. The cloth dropped from his hand, discarded and forgotten as John focused on the pale flesh, fingertips carding through soft brown curls, drifting across a pectoral to flick at the puckered nipple. He grinned as Rodney shuddered with a pleasure-filled moan, firmly pushing Rodney back to lie flat on the dais, following him down so he could latch onto the sensitive bud, and tease it with teeth and lips and tongue. The hardness of Rodney's erection pressed against his, still trapped within a prison of cloth and John felt a desperate need to release them both, wanting to feel the hard shaft in his hand. He drew back upright and quickly worked open Rodney's pants, fingers slipping inside to touch silken flesh and coarse hair.

Beautiful.

"Beautiful," he murmured aloud this time as he wrapped his fingers around the thick shaft, gliding his hand up to the tip, his thumb smoothing over the sensitive tip to smear a bead of precome. The scent of male sex added to his arousal, and he breathed in deeply, mouth salivating as he imagined the bittersweet taste bursting on his tongue. Leaning down, he licked gently, grinning when the taste was every bit as good as he had anticipated, perhaps better. He could feel Rodney's fingers playing with his hair, alternately pulling and pushing on his head as if uncertain to if he ought to be encouraging or repelling the oral assault. The decision was made as fingers tugged more ruthlessly on John's hair, drawing him back up to share the bittersweet taste in another deeply possessive kiss.

Rodney's fingers fumbled at the fastenings of John's pants but, with a triumphant grunt of pleasure, he succeeded finally and dragged at the material until John got the message.

"So damn bossy, McKay," John murmured in fake irritation as he rolled off Rodney so he could remove his pants and boxers, a lecherous smile breaking easy across his face as Rodney watched him with growing awe. He knelt back down beside Rodney, taking himself in hand and stroking the length of his erection from base to tip, enjoying the mesmerized look on Rodney's face. John had never been an exhibitionist but there was something compelling about the wonder in the desire-glazed eyes that made him want to perform for Rodney. The first spikes of desire zinged through him and his hand moved faster, only to stop when Rodney sat up and grabbed his wrist.

"No, let me," he begged hoarsely and John could deny him nothing, drawing closer and trembling as hot fingers wrapped around him tentatively at first, gently stroking his skin, exploring the length of him, and gathering precome from the tip for lubrication before the circling fingers tightened. He moaned as Rodney stroked him with long, sure pulls, grazing the sensitive tip with his thumb until John felt the heat of impending orgasm coil in his belly and groin, radiating outwards in pulses as he came, semen splattering over Rodney's fingers, over both their abdomens.

As the last shudders of pleasure left him trembling, John pushed Rodney back down and leaned over him, taking Rodney's erection deep into his mouth, sucking and licking the hard flesh, tongue swirling over the tip, and pressing against that sensitive spot. He felt fingers scrabbling in his hair as incoherent words fell from Rodney's kiss-swollen lips but John would not be denied his prize. He swallowed quickly as his mouth was filled, riding out the throes of Rodney's climax until his lover collapsed beneath him.

John pulled back, licking his lips to capture any droplets that might have escaped, heavy eyes alighting on Rodney's pleasure-sated face and on the long lashes that flickered against his flushed cheeks. Carefully, he covered the length of Rodney's body with his own, one leg pushing between Rodney's, arm thrown casually across the heaving torso as he waited for Rodney to open his eyes. The flicker of those sinful lashes revealed eyes filled with contentment and John leaned in to share the unique taste of his lover in a soul-deep kiss.

"Well?" Rodney asked roughly. "Was it worth a double choc muffin?"

"To be honest, Rodney, I'm not that keen on chocolate." John leaned in and kissed the corner of Rodney's mouth, his voice lowering. "You taste infinitely better." He smacked his lips to make his point, earning a muffled laugh from Rodney.

They lay quietly for a couple of minutes as another track played out on the MP3 player before Rodney murmured, "I thought you'd want to...you know?"

"You know what?"

Rodney waved him free hand around, "You know...like the last time."

"You mean fuck you?"

"Yeah, though I was trying to put it a little more delicately--"

"I want to fuck you," he stated solemnly, "But not today." He pushed up onto one elbow and looked down at Rodney. "Now, tomorrow is another day."

"You-You want to do this again?"

"Yeah. Today, tomorrow, the day after that, and the one after that and the one...You catch my drift?"

Rodney had the silliest grin plastered on his quirky, handsome face but it warmed John to the depths of his soul, banishing all the darkness of the past few weeks. When he leaned down to kiss the smiling face, he felt the last of his despair fade, and when Rodney kissed him back, the last trace of blackness was pierced by bright sparks of pleasure in contrasting colors.

He had Atlantis and, more importantly, he had Rodney. Finally, he had come home.

***

Epilogue--Two Weeks Later:

Rodney adjusted the webbing on his vest and patted several pocket to ensure all his necessary equipment was safely stowed before stepping up beside John, Ronon and Teyla. He watched the symbols light up on the ring, grinning as the Stargate flared into life. Although no mission could ever be guaranteed safe while the Wraith were culling worlds, they had traded with the Tergani before without incident.

For once, Ronon led the way with Rodney following just a few steps behind as Ronon crossed the event horizon, only to walk smack into the suddenly raised shield. He fell backwards, landing on his ass and holding his nose.

"What the..?" Rodney double tapped his comlink, turning his head to stare up at the control room. "What are you playing at, Burton?"

"I didn't do anything, sir." Burton sounded flustered. Elizabeth's head appeared over the balcony railing as the shield lowered, her face caught in a deep frown.

"Perhaps I should try to step through," said Teyla but John held her back even before Rodney interrupted.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. If the shield activated while you'll halfway across the event horizon then you'll be severed--"

John cut him off. "Ronon? Is there any problem on the planet?"

"Only that I am here alone."

John pulled a notebook from one of his pockets and threw it into the Stargate; it disappeared instantly, swallowed up by the vortex. He grimaced and nodded his head towards Teyla.

"No wait...that's not a good--" Rodney tensed as she stepped across the event horizon cautiously but without incident, confirmation that she was fine coming back almost immediately.

"I am on the planet with Ronon, Colonel."

"Okay," John drawled.

Rodney watched as John licked his lips, looking perplexed as he stared at the Stargate.

"I want to run a diagnostic on the Stargate before you risk sending anyone else through. If there's a glitch in the main control unit then...Colonel, wait!"

Taking what Rodney considered to be a seriously high risk, John pushed his hand against the liquid-looking vortex, watching in morbid fascination as his hand was sucked inside before John drew it back. Rodney held his breath as John shrugged his shoulders and stepped through, again without incident. Stepping up to the pool of the event horizon, Rodney reached out tentatively, jumping back when the shield zapped into place when his hand was scant inches away. The shield lowered the moment he stepped back and then raised when he moved forward.

Radek joined him in front of the Stargate holding several smallish objects. He gently threw one at the Stargate without a problem until Rodney stepped too close to the event horizon again. Rodney looked across at Radek, seeing astonishment and then realization cross the Czech scientist's face.

"It is not Stargate that is problem."

Rodney heard Elizabeth over his comlink. "I'm ordering Colonel Sheppard and his team to return immediately."

He waited for them to appear, sighing in relief when all three crossed the event horizon safely, and especially John. The thought of losing John after only a single week of the most amazing sex, and far more besides, had left a sick taste in his mouth. Part of him wished he could reach out and touch his lover, wanting to ensure that John was still in one piece.

"What's going on here, Rodney?"

Radek answered. "Stargate is fine, Colonel...but maybe your theory about the city is the cause of this." He turned. "It is you, Rodney. Atlantis does not wish you to leave."

John's face creased with annoyance. "Hey, I thought I was her favorite?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sure the city loves you truly, madly and deeply but recognizes that you are a soldier and have duties to perform off-world."

"Whereas she thinks you belong here...fixing things?" John asked with arms crossed and both eyebrows raised.

Rodney stared at him in confusion. "How am I supposed to know that? Though I'll admit you may have a point--"

"Well that's big of you," commented John, and Rodney huffed his annoyance.

"The point being that if it is the city trying to stop me going off-world then we have a problem." Rodney straightened and folded his arms across his chest, unintentionally mirroring John's pose but John simply raised one eyebrow.

"No," he drawled. "I don't have a problem...You do."

Rodney opened his mouth to retort but John was right. If Radek was correct in his assumption that Atlantis was stopping him from leaving the relative safety of the city then the only one facing this problem was him. John drew closer and clapped him on the back.

"Don't worry, Rodney, you won't be trapped here forever. If you can't fix it then there's always the Daedalus."

Rodney raised a finger to argue but John smiled, turned and walked away, beckoning Teyla and Ronon to join him.

"Right," Rodney mumbled more to himself, shaking his head as he wondered how he was going to convince a possible A.I. to let him come and go from Atlantis freely via the Stargate. In the meantime, the Daedalus would reach Earth in a few days and head back as soon as she had loaded up with fresh supplies for the Atlantis Expedition. He would only be stuck on Atlantis for the next month and, to be honest, he had more than enough to occupy his time; projects to oversee, Ancient technology to test, as well as coordinating repairs to the great city following the storm and Wraith damage.

If he was lucky then John would consider himself grounded too and they would spend some of those days and most of those nights together. Rodney gave a crooked smile as Radek began to outline his theories concerning the Atlantis A.I, thinking of far worse fates than this. Perhaps after he and John had soared together in ecstasy, they would share that wondrous dream of flying again, feeling the warm air buffet their bodies as they soared between the great towers and spires, through the long avenues and then deep into the heart of the city.

He pushed that thought aside, planning to take it up again later tonight when John slipped into his bed beside him and made love with him.

Yes, he could think of far worse fates than this.

THE END