Chapter Text
Life didn't make much more sense after Carson did let John off the IV to finally leave the infirmary. The man walked out looking a lot healthier after four days, with color on his face that wasn't just from the bruising. He still had bruises, his cheek and the side of his face were a green-purple that hadn't shown up for nearly twelve hours after they got him back, and he said it was from Kolya's arguing with Leuca. But the other color was back, too, so he didn't look like a see-through white ghost anymore. He had been eating regularly for a week and had some of the fullness back to his face, reminding Rodney of just how much his friend had lost while they were trapped.
The harshest reminder was when they left the infirmary. John approached doors like the unknown lay beyond the threshold, and he would actually peek around corners before walking out into the hall. He seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped.
"I think... I should try taking a walk. Like... Alone. This is... This is messing with my head," he admitted. Rodney frowned at him.
"Maybe you shouldn't be alone then," he reasoned. "If you get lost-"
"No, I don't think it's a getting-lost kind of weird. I know where I am, Rodney. I'm okay. I just... I haven't gone anywhere without somebody dragging me there for months. I gotta work that out," he said. And it made sense. So Rodney offered to wait for him in his rooms, so John could get himself to his own apartment without a babysitter and then figure things out. John wrapped him in a grateful hug right there in the empty hallway and sealed it with one of his thank-you kisses. So Rodney watched him wander off, itching to follow him and making himself go to his own corner of home instead.
John showed up around four hours later. With a backpack. And a book. War and Peace. They both dragged on the man’s arms, far too heavy for him to be carrying, even at his sides. Rodney stared at him.
"Are you kidding me?" he blurted.
"What? I haven't finished it yet," John replied. He paused, suddenly mentally stuck only steps inside the room. "Your bed is bigger than mine, right?"
Rodney blinked at the question as he realized what the backpack was for. They hadn't exactly discussed any of it. But they had apparently come to the mutual conclusion that they would stick together. Even at home. "Uh. I don't know. It's not something we ever ran a comparison on."
John looked up at him then. "I can't sleep. I tried, but... I just figured I'd see if I could crash with you until I get over it. Whatever it is. I'll take the floor if..."
Rodney made a face at him for it, offended by the suggestion. "You will not. We'll figure it out."
He took John's pack before the man tried to retreat out of the room with it. It didn't make sense. Maybe they could have discussed it first, but what John was asking for was what Rodney wanted anyway. He wasn't going to sleep on the floor.
And they found themselves actually left on their own, voluntarily, with access to sunshine and doors they could lock and unlock themselves. With their own clothes, and their own stuff in easy reach, and nobody expecting anything out of them other than to rest and recover and attend doctors appointments to make sure they were still alive and healthy. (Well, getting healthy, in John's case. Carson was quite amazed at how healthy Rodney was for the ordeal; he had lost weight but it apparently fixed his cholesterol problems. His blood pressure was another matter entirely, but the assumption was that it was hypertension from the stress and would calm down. When people stopped stressing him out. John.)
John looked around the room and flailed the massive book he carried enough to make the hardcover and a few pages flap and make noise. It got tossed on the end of the bed.
"Now what?" the man asked, sounding every bit as lost as the question implied. He glanced at Rodney but otherwise was very intent on the windows and the sunlight.
"Now... We're home. We... get back to it. Right? The city's still here. We get to keep it that way," said Rodney. "I mean. Eventually. When thinking doesn't hurt. I have a few thousand hours of medical leave and vacation time that Carson wants me to take, but I doubt I'll get in more than two weeks. Zelenka already broke things while I was gone and it can't just sit there very long or botany's going to lose their heat lamps and then we're on limited rations again."
Sheppard nodded absently, frowning. "Yeah, that's good."
It wasn't exactly confident. More like John when he smiled and nodded his head and passed on contributing to a conversation he was accidentally present for. The problem, of course, being that Rodney and John were the only people in the room, so it left Rodney talking to himself.
"Is that not the plan?" Rodney asked, confused. John winced and shrugged.
"I didn't think I'd make it back here, you know? And now I'm... Well, not fit, I guess. I can't get back to it," he replied. "D'you think you can get Weir to keep me on with the science team, like before? Just to... I dunno, light stuff up like I started out? You'll still need me for the chair, right?"
"What are you-" Rodney trailed off, confusion hitting the slow shock of comprehension. "No, John, you're going to get better. And things will get back to normal."
John rolled his eyes and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, because he had one, and he could. "I can't actually do my job, Rodney. I can't even sleep. So much... doesn't work."
Rodney tugged on his arm to make him look at him, suddenly realizing how annoying it was when he avoided looking at people when John did it to him. He had to physically put himself in the man's way, catching the front of his shirt at his ribs to keep him focused front. "Of course not. It's not even been a week! You can't undo months of damage in, what, four days!"
John cheated and ducked his forehead to Rodney's. And he just stood there, quiet, small trembles hitting his shoulders. Rodney tugged on his shirt.
"Look. You're tired. That's all. Well, not all, there's a list of everything on top of tired, and all of it adds up to whatever you're thinking, it's... Probably not right," Rodney said, thinking it was a perfectly reasonable observation. John laughed at it at least, quiet maybe, but some kind of amused.
"So I'm not supposed to think yet?" he asked. Rodney started to argue and then reconsidered.
"No, because your orders are to think positive and if you can't follow your own orders, you aren't thinking right, so no. We'll go out to the pier if you want. Or stay here. Or do the comparison testing to determine whether we should be here or at yours," replied Rodney. "But if you can be annoying every other day of the week, I can hold you to it now."
John closed his eyes and leaned into his hands at that, like an invitation. Rodney shifted back enough to tease in a few kisses until John caught his face between his hands to hold him in a real one. It was actually a relief and Rodney spent the next five minutes very carefully peeling the man out of layers of clothes and coaxing him to the bed to try out. And it did alright, for what it was. No more snug than the last few months had been. They had real blankets and no clothes and John stayed with him, no scary trips into his head, no heart attacks or need for apologies.
John fell asleep on him, and that was a little uncomfortable, but Rodney figured out how to calm down. For a few minutes, he was able to hang on to John and wonder if maybe this was the new normal, something much happier and safe and comfortable than the miserable dark place they had been stuck in for months. Rodney hadn't fully expected to get out of the bunker either, but he had kept it as a goal because of John's stupid, stubborn insisting on not wallowing in the muck of it. And lying stretched out, in his own room, with John asleep against him, was a fully acceptable reward for being that stubborn, Rodney thought. It wasn't perfect, they were too messed up, but it was a good place to start from. It was how to get better.
If there were nightmares, they didn't wake either of them up. John was still drowsy the next morning when somebody's radio started buzzing. He was still leaned half on Rodney's chest and reached for the hand-held that kept chirping on the bed stand not far from their ears.
"Sheppard," he grumbled, trying to sound awake and missing. Rodney blinked a little more aware and brushed at the man's messy hair, idle and trying to figure out if he wanted to be awake or not. Something was at the back of his brain telling him that he should, but John was on his chest as a good excuse to ignore it.
"Colonel Sheppard? I'm sorry... I thought this was Dr. McKay's channel," came a voice Rodney only barely recognized. Heightmeyer. Shit. John seemed to freeze up. He shifted how he held the radio just enough to check the number taped on the side, swearing quietly.
"Right... One second," said John. And he had that tone in his voice that sounded choked. But he stayed where he was and held the radio for Rodney to take.
"I missed the appointment," Rodney said as he saw the time on his watch. John nodded and set his head back to Rodney's shoulder, face buried and probably staying that way.
So Rodney had to check in with Dr. Heightmeyer, as had become the new usual after three days, and the appointment wasn't so much rescheduled as it was held over for him, so he had fifteen minutes to get there. John took over his pillow and buried himself, head and all, under the blankets when Rodney got out of bed. He had stopped talking again. But when Rodney asked if he was staying, the head under the blankets nodded, and he didn't complain a few minutes later when Rodney tugged the covers back to kiss him before walking out the door.
Rodney didn't complain much about the incident when he got to Dr. Heightmeyer's office. It wasn't anybody's fault, it was just annoying. Except for the part where he didn't know how to help John. The man went silent after it, and Rodney complained about that to the shrink.
"You are not responsible for Colonel Sheppard here, Rodney," the doctor said. Like she knew anything. "He is allowed to do what he needs to do, just as you are. And whatever... Rules you had worked out before for this relationship will need to be reevaluated with that in mind, going forward."
Rodney made a face at that, pulled back a little. "It's not a relationship. It's... Just, like before, only... Not..."
Dr. Heightmeyer frowned at him. "What does that mean?"
"Well, I mean, he's still John. We were still arguing about Batman two weeks ago. But... We were also... I mean..." Rodney frowned back, suddenly realizing there was a problem. "You're American."
"Yes. But I'm not American military," the doctor reminded him. "And everything is confidential."
It all clicked for Rodney. "Wait. I could get him fired. That's why... That's why he reacted. This morning. And when Major Lorne was there..."
"I won't lie to you, Rodney. Whether you call it a relationship or not, the perception of it by others could get the Colonel discharged. It depends on who finds out about it and... Whether or not they choose to officially ignore it," said Dr. Heightmeyer. Rodney shook his head.
"But that's- it's not a thing. If it's about sex, it's a problem, and this isn't sex. We don't- haven't- whatever. John said he doesn't like sex, told me to talk to his ex-wife about it because of it. Said he's not going to break because he was already broke so what they tried wouldn't work, and he's... I mean, we're home, and he's getting better," said Rodney, rambling. "He didn't break. He got in Kolya's face when he had to. He didn't break like they wanted. He'll get better, and he's gotta keep his job. Here. They can't let Kolya take his... His career, too."
"Rodney, the Genii Stargate is gone. Kolya won't be able to contact Atlantis again," Heightmeyer pointed out. "What happens now is up to Colonel Sheppard, and, yes, partly yourself. You will need to have a conversation about how he wants to handle his career and the rules that govern that. Because, as I said before, multiple times now, you are not responsible for the Lt. Colonel. And he is not responsible for you."
Rodney argued that, annoyed with the woman, angry with so many things, because he had been responsible, he was responsible still, and he wanted to be part of his friend's life which meant he would continue to be responsible. And he couldn't get Kate to understand. They spent the better part of an hour going back and forth with the same proofs and rationalizations and Rodney's only success was in working himself into a panic at one point that the shrink then had to figure out how to talk him down from, because that was her job. And she tried to steer him away from the topic of John's career because she said that was forecasting and black and white thinking and all that other jargon that meant it wasn't a good or healthy thing for Rodney to do.
Heightmeyer tried to steer him into the topic of work, but that only reminded Rodney that John had asked if he could be moved back to the science team, like the lab rat for the ATA that he started out the expedition as.
"You realize, don't you, that these sessions are intended to be about you, right?" Dr. Heightmeyer asked, lightly teasing but more than that, trying to make a point. And Rodney accepted it. But he shook his head anyway.
"My whole life shrunk down to something about the size of the Colonel about three months ago, so if that's suddenly a problem then that's what you're here for, isn't it," he challenged, a little angry about it. "And if I'm supposed to talk about what I'm worried about then it's going to be him for a while."
"We can talk about what you want to talk about," Dr. Heightmeyer allowed. "But I won't talk about the Colonel."
Rodney felt that shrinks weren't supposed to be rude and stubborn but he just scowled it off and went back to what he wanted to talk about just to spite her. "Why then? Why wouldn't he want to stay as a Lt. Colonel and with his job? We don't have sex, it doesn't matter, so he can keep his job. He doesn't have to come work for the science team."
"That's not how-" Kate seemed to have a rethink and stopped. "Okay. New track. Rodney, if it's not a relationship, as you said, what do you expect of it? What do you get out of it, if you don't get sex?"
"What kind of stupid question is that?" Rodney returned, annoyed. "I get John. He's been my friend since the start, and he's still here. Which is, you know, more than I can say for... A lot, actually..."
"So he would be your friend whether or not you have sex, I'm hearing," replied the doctor.
"I just said that."
"So why do you have this not-a-relationship? You had your friendship before. It's entirely possible this added... Benefit? It could just be a product of your captivity with him, the dependency that Kolya's actions created..." Kate said, the suggestion made carefully to soften the blow. Rodney didn't immediately argue though, because he had certainly already considered it when he was in the bowels of the damn Genii bunker and hating himself for the feelings cluttering up his efforts at working for their meals and John's limited freedoms.
"No, that's not true." He shook his head and set his jaw as he drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair he was slouched into. "Because he started it. When he was hurt and it was my fault, he tried to help me, and he asked for help, and it wasn't something Kolya did. There was no reason for it, it just happened. It's... More. Because that's how we are. If it weren't for his job, we would have been here before anything happened, anyway."
"So then you do understand why he's talking now about giving up his career," said Dr. Heightmeyer as she tried to keep up. Rodney shook his head.
"No, because it's not about sex, I told you," said Rodney. "If it was, we would have had it by now, and it's... Not his thing."
"But it is yours," said the doctor. Rodney scoffed, awkwardly suddenly aware he was talking about sex with a woman who he wasn't having sex with.
"Well, yes, I'm... I'm a healthy adult male and have been for a very long time," he said, stuttering on a few of those words as he shifted in his chair.
"John is also, Rodney. Or he will be, as you said, when he heals from this. Not being interested in sex doesn't mean he isn't healthy. That lack of interest doesn't make a person broken," she pointed out.
"I didn't say he was broken, he said it," Rodney offered quickly, shaking his head.
"Well, admittedly, you just indirectly implied that he was, defining your interest in sex as healthy inferred his was not. And for some, that lack of interest is health-related, or trauma-related, and for others, it's as natural as your interest in having sex. To put it simply, a person can't make themselves find an attraction to someone else. Male or female or otherwise. It's not always about having the perfect parts and the look and the sparkling personality. Sometimes the physical interest just doesn't catch, and that's fine," said Dr. Heightmeyer.
"But he kissed me first," said Rodney, frowning and petulant in his confusion.
"Intimacy isn't just about sex. There is a difference, though it is often overlooked," said the doctor. "People who don't want sex may still want intimacy, still want a partner, or that relationship with someone. People are allowed to be attached and close and even physically intimate with people they don't have sex with, if that's what they agree on, in their relationship. And, in terms of the rules of the military, the physical intimacy is perceived as the problem, and the assumption of sex will follow, whether it is there or not."
"Well, it's stupid, and it's wrong," said Rodney, because he felt rather cornered just then. He really was going to have to talk to John about it, and he had already seen what happened when John was presented with the topic.
"Agreed," said Kate, though it didn't do Rodney or John any good. "But it is something you find yourself now involved in, because it is his job, and your relationship as it is may make you feel responsible for something that is not ultimately your responsibility. So it's important to remind yourself of that. You can communicate your concerns with him, sure. But what the Lt. Colonel chooses to do from here forward is his choice. Not your fault. You can't actually get him fired. He has a say in your current expectations of your friendship, doesn't he?"
Rodney frowned as he considered it, and was fully offended by the suggestion that John didn't have a say. "Well, yes..."
"Then don't take that from him by saying whatever happens to him is your fault," said the doctor. "He can make his own decisions again. Do the both of you a favor and allow it."
The shrink gave Rodney more to think about than he knew what to do with. He was there for two hours and left feeling scraped up and tired. He had so many questions and so many potential answers and he didn't know which one would be true. Dealing with other people was always hard, and he had for the last two years worked those snags out by complaining to John. And the Colonel would either tell him to stop being bothered by other people being dumb, or he would tell him what to do, or, on occasion, he had gone behind Rodney's back and fixed it. And now Rodney's only way to fix it was to talk to John about... John. About what he was going to do. About what he wanted Rodney to do or not do, help with or stay out of. That kind of a chat wasn't something Rodney knew how to do. But then again, he hadn't known how to talk about John to a shrink, either, and he survived it.
The surviving part felt a little too real, though, when he walked into his own room and found John Sheppard still exactly where he had left him, sprawled on his stomach under the blankets and reading War and Peace. There were red-purple scars and wounds across his back and shoulders over where the blankets had slipped and the question of blame and fault that had seemed so fully settled roared back up, loud. Rodney moved to lay down next to him, arm looped around John's and crossed as a pillow under Rodney's chin so he didn't interfere with the man's reading. John looked down at him as Rodney scanned the contents of page one-hundred-twelve rather than up at him.
"Everything okay?" John asked, suspicious like he knew the answer.
"When do you talk to Heightmeyer?" Rodney asked. John stiffened and shrugged even as he stayed propped up over his elbows to read a book.
"I don't know. Maybe next year some time," he said, aloof and annoying and avoiding anything helpful. Rodney thumped his head on his crossed arms. He was just guessing, but he didn't figure waiting a year for anything would help either of them. But he wasn't exactly solid on arguing about it, either. So he curled against John's arm and read the stupid Russian novel with the man in quiet. And taunted him for reading slow a couple of times. And John eventually thumped him with the book cover and pinned him playfully until Rodney forgot what he had been stressed over needing to talk about, because he was kissing his friend instead, and that was a much happier solution to everything.
The deal with being let out of the infirmary was that John had to check in every day. Report back to the hospital wing. Take the pills. Do whatever tests the experts said were smart. Out in fifteen minutes, tops. It was as good as a contract and John held Carson to it. He tried not to be cranky about it, at least.
"Nothing personal," he said, antsy as he waited for Carson to get pictures back from some hybrid Ancient gizmo that did pictures without using radiation and had to translate the images to the milky way technology. "But you've got three minutes, here, doc. Then I'm out and you can make a house call."
"I'm aware, Co- John. But that's three minutes left by the clock, so just sit easy a moment," Carson replied. He still tripped over the title thing, but he tried, and it sure as hell made John feel better. Two minutes later the images processed and John was still in the clear from whatever Genii bullshit might maybe possibly be dogging him silently. He jumped down off the bed and started for the door, but Carson called him back.
John hesitated but walked backwards rather than stop. "Time's up..."
"I've got a minute and a half, so get yourself back here so I don't have to raise my voice to waste your time," Carson replied. John sighed and walked back.
"Thank you. I'd offer a sticker but it's been so long since I've had children in..." Carson said dryly, meeting John's flat look with one of his own. John held up his new, borrowed watch - his had been melted on some Genii corpse and he didn't want it back - and showed the time.
"Thirty seconds, Carson."
"Dr. Heightmeyer. She says you're avoiding her. You should try not doing that," Carson said. "With the way things are going, if your physical therapy goes well, we will get you back through the 'gate before ye know-"
"I'll figure that out when I get to it," replied John.
"Not without clearance from Dr. Heightmeyer, John," said Carson. "That's what I'm trying to tell ye. I'm not the only one who has to sign off on your return to work. Ye were gone long enough, your state being what it is, the psych evaluation has to happen. For both you and Rodney."
John blinked. "What? Rodney's dragged in to it because of me?"
"Well, yes and no? There's no cutting corners on it. Kate will have to clear him, too. An' if you're set and stubborn about certain things, knowing Rodney, he will be as well," said Carson, waving the confusion off. He was his usual awkward about it, and John felt confused, but at least not so worried that Rodney's job would somehow depend on John passing the evaluations, too. Carson tried again. "But the thing of it is, I think ye need the help, and all the tests and medicines in the world won't make ye feel any better if you're not... Minding the rest."
"I am, doc. I'm going to go rest now. I'm getting plenty of rest, like you ordered," said John. He intentionally pulled the wrong conclusion and smiled as he started back toward the exit.
"Colonel! I also ordered that you talk to Dr. Heightmeyer," Carson called after him. John winced but kept walking. "Please?"
The whole Heightmeyer thing meant talking, however. And it wasn't likely she would accept his opinions on War and Peace, or the marathon of Dr. Who episodes John had been on for the last four days when he wasn't asleep. Rodney went to his appointments every morning, and he generally did more than enough talking for the both of them, so John figured that should count. The doc could make her notes and whatever reports she had to do and... Well, Rodney was the smart one, he could just take the final quiz at the end for the both of them, and John would stay out of it.
McKay had already given his report to Caldwell before the Colonel left, even though Carson still hadn’t cleared John to face the same fate. The official paperwork sent back marked John as temporarily disabled, for an assortment of medical reasons, and it would be logged with the SGC and the Air Force, and it would be reassessed in a few months when the Daedalus came back. It was the road to retirement, a year early, and the only one John could wrap his head around even after almost a week home. It was just going to take a few extra steps, like talking to people, that John wasn’t on board with yet.
It wasn't like John didn't know how all of it went. He had ordered soldiers to see the shrink plenty of times. He had been to his share of tune-ups and check-ins before taking the psych evals. He had done a whole year of appointments with the base doc after they pulled him out of Afghanistan; the Brass wanted to make absolutely certain he hadn't had a psychotic break they could blame a busted chopper on, and John had proved himself entirely sane despite their efforts. And he took his smack on the wrist and he went off to play taxi in McMurdo and everything was fine after that.
And when John was sure he could pass the same scrutiny and expect the same outcome, without getting dishonorably discharged this time, he would go see Heightmeyer. In the meantime, she could help Rodney and things would be fine.
They had it worked out that John would meet Rodney and the others for lunch at the mess. That way John didn't have to be escorted anywhere. He had decided he hated that. He knew his way around, and he was fully ambulatory, he could get himself where he needed to go without anyone standing at his shoulder or walking in front of him or behind him. So Sheppard headed for the cafeteria after leaving the infirmary.
He was nearly there when he was found.
"Colonel Sheppard?" came the female voice from behind him. John instinctively raised his shoulder to block a blow that wasn't coming, and the twitch made him stop in his tracks and mentally swear at himself. The voice wasn’t a nurse and John wasn’t anywhere near a Genii infirmary. Kate Heightmeyer caught up to him, as he figured she would.
"Funny enough, Carson was just talking about you," said John, scrounging up a polite smile. "I assume he says hi."
"As a matter of fact, he did," replied Dr. Heightmeyer, much more amused than anyone being actively avoided had a right to be. "He said you were headed this way."
"Oh, this isn't an accidental hallway meeting. This is stalking, I get it. Doesn't sound very healthy, doc," John pointed out lightly. Jokes aside, he crossed his arms and prepared to stand some ground. She nodded, not apparently intimidated.
"It really isn't, that's why people generally keep their appointments rather than make their medical team chase them down," she replied. "When we figure out cell phones in the Pegasus Galaxy, I'll be glad to play phone tag, Colonel, but in the meantime, it's in-person instead."
"I'm still on medical leave. I'll be in to see you when I need cleared," said John. Which wasn't going to be any time soon.
"I have you down for fourteen hundred every day of the week," replied Dr. Heightmeyer. "And that will stay your time until you show up to change it."
Considering it was just past noon and the woman had tracked him down for an appointment time two hours away, John kind of expected her to be pushy about it. But she just left it at that, wished him a good lunch with Rodney, and turned to go back to her office.
"I'm meeting my team," John said, just to clear up the record. "I have actually been around other people since I've been back. Not just McKay."
John didn't mention it was only for lunch, or that it was only because he didn't trust Rodney to bring him back food he actually wanted to eat and not food Carson conspired to make him eat. Meals counted as being social. Especially because there were always other people there who weren't his team. And that... Took work. Sheppard wasn't used to the attention anymore. Attention wasn't good. But he had three others to deflect off of, so he could fake it long enough to eat and then leave.
"Good, I'm glad, Colonel. That's good for both of you," said the doc. It didn't startle him that time, but it still grated on John's nerves so he risked saying something.
"I'm on leave still," John replied. "So maybe... Less with the rank for a while. Just... Not loud about it, anyway."
"Alright... Sounds like something we can discuss at your appointment, John. You should get to lunch," Heightmeyer said. And John didn't have anything to argue or set straight, so he offered an awkward smile and headed for the mess again.
He fetched his own food and walked out to the deck, where Ronon and Teyla and Rodney had more or less taken over one particular table, like it was high school rules all over again. But for all it had become an amusement, John appreciated it. They left him the spot at the railing, so he could have his back to the ocean, and an entire table between him and any well-wishers glad to see the Lt. Colonel and their Chief Science Officer back in the city. And Ronon was in his new usual spot, guard-dogging Rodney the same way that John used the table and Teyla.
John stepped around Teyla to get to his waiting chair and made sure to kick Rodney's boot under the table as he settled in beside him. Rodney kicked back in response and glanced at his watch. "What took so long? Carson promised fifteen minutes."
"Carson also ratted me out to Heightmeyer," replied John. "She caught me in the hall."
"Hmm. Which she wouldn't do if you actually spoke with her as you should," Teyla pointed out mildly, a tolerant but no less judgy smile offered up.
"I talk to you guys," muttered John.
"Yeah, but figuring out what you're actually saying is her job, not ours," said Ronon. "Whatever messed you up, it's stuff we can't help you with. That's her and Beckett for everybody else. You're no different."
Straightening his aching back away from the stupid plastic chair, John made a face at him for the logic. "Fine. I'll just eat in my room then," he replied, only half kidding. Ronon shook his head.
"Sure. I'll just drag your ass back out here. I'm just saying. You're being stupid, and you know it, or you wouldn't be hiding from a lady doc," he said. John stabbed at the salad because it was fresh and crunchy and he could kill it with a fork. Rodney sat by, suspiciously quiet on the matter as Teyla and Ronon low-key ganged up on him about something Rodney had bugged him about every day for a week.
"Fine," John said. He made a face at his food. "My appointment is in two hours."
Under the table, Rodney's boot caught under John's ankle and dragged his leg that little bit closer. John glanced up at him but Rodney was very focused on shoving his food around his plate. And with that settled, Teyla started in about something Halling had started over on the mainland, some ground-breaking her people had done on a new building. One of her people had spent the last month helping one of the engineers dig through the Database and the result of their eye-opening experience was some kind of plans for a fortifiable space that wasn't reliant on shields and technology. Just clever construction, and the enterprising Athosian had figured out how to make that construction match the skills of their people.
"When it's further along, I'd like the two of you to go out with me to see it," Teyla said.
"I can't fly yet," John said, shaking his head once before looking down at his food. Another harmless lettuce leaf was cracked in pieces. "But I'm sure we could get someone to... Ya know. Drive."
"If you're worried about the plans, I can look them over-" Rodney dropped off at the bemused look on Teyla's face. "What?"
"It wasn't an invitation to work, boys," Teyla said. "Merely to witness. My people are peaceful, but we are not helpless, and we learned from the storms last year, and every one since. Now we have the resources to put those lessons into practice. And I thought you might like to see the results."
"Oh..." Rodney hesitated but bobbed his head. "I mean, I guess, sure. We can do that then."
John nodded his agreement with the volunteering of his time that Rodney had so easily done, probably without realizing. He was planning to go anyway. Rodney just wasn't shy about putting words to it in order to make it happen.
“What did Caldwell decide on the Genii stargate?” Ronon asked, looking to Rodney. “Can it go to the Athosians?”
That was the first John had heard of that particular scheme and he stared at Ronon, confused. “We can’t protect the ‘gate there. The iris is controlled with our systems- Anybody could dial in...”
“That’s what Caldwell said.” Rodney nodded as he agreed. “So we have it stored. Below decks for now. We’ll use it for the bridge project. I made good headway on that while I was gone. Sam had to admit my numbers were right.” He preened a little smugly at that, like he used to, and John frowned at his plate. It had been awhile since he had seen that smile.
“Did the Athosians ask for a ‘gate?” John asked, looking over to Teyla.
“It would be helpful, yes,” she replied. “But Halling understood the security risk. It was only a passing mention of it, really.”
“How’d he find out about the Genii gate out on the mainland?” John asked, still feeling slightly bowled over. He felt very much like he was missing too much to ever catch up. Ronon shrugged at him.
“People talk in the city. It gets out to the others within a day,” said the Satedan. He shrugged it off. But John didn’t have such an easy time doing so. If the news of the ‘gate had gotten around, what else was already out there? He glanced over at Rodney, self-conscious and paranoid.
“You said the Daedalus left already anyway, right?” he asked. Rodney nodded.
“Almost a week ago,” he reported. John took a deep breath and tried to relax. He really just wanted to go back to hiding suddenly, but there was still food on his plate. And the whole idea was to get away from being so damn afraid of everything anyway. He slouched over his plate, taking up a little more space and inching just a little closer to his friends to kill the urge to hide.