Archive of Our Own ^beta

Rodney swallowed as his shirt collar pulled just a bit too tight against his throat. “Hey, you wanna not strangle me while we make our getaway here?” he hissed over his shoulder.

“Just radio the others,” John said through clenched teeth. “And keep moving.” He scanned the room for fresh threats, but nothing more menacing than a server carrying a platter of finger food pinged his internal radar. The people with the astonishing array of weapons all seemed to be behind them. 

He kept his own sidearm pressed against Rodney’s ribs. No one — not even Rodney — needed to know the safety was still on. They lurched forward another few feet, limbs moving not exactly at cross-purposes, but out of sync. John made a mental note to never volunteer to be Rodney’s partner in a three-legged race. Not that he’d exactly volunteered this time around… 

“Fine,” Rodney snapped, raising a hand to swat at his earpiece. “Teyla. Ronon. Get back to the front door—”

“Tell ‘em not to wait on us,” John interjected.

“You wanna do this?” Rodney replied as tartly as a whisper would allow. “Did you two hear that? It’s time to go.”

John estimated it was 40 feet to the hall’s double doors, but the chattering swirl of courtiers and dignitaries made their shuffling progress take far longer than his adrenaline-amped instincts were happy about. The twinkling lights that had looked so pretty an hour ago now threw shifting shadows that kept his eyes darting around the room.

Somewhere behind them, a jaunty musical number started up, making Rodney flinch and further crumple the papers he’d almost forgotten he was even holding against his tac vest. “And the band played on, hmm?”

The crowd began making their way towards the dance floor by the band. John decided he was happy with pretty much anything that got people out of the way, especially since they were moving in a direction that provided more cover for Rodney and him. “Yeah, well, let’s hope they actually let us waltz out of here.”

There was still no sign of Teyla and Ronon, and John started to wonder whether the Ku’arans were holding them in some kind of elaborate doublecross. Their gracious hosts had managed to split up his team all too easily earlier, so more duplicity wouldn’t have surprised him at all at this point. 

Fortunately, six improbably long seconds later, Teyla and Ronon emerged from a side hallway. Neither of them broke stride at the sight of John essentially frog marching Rodney along, though Teyla did raise a singularly eloquent eyebrow before going to push one of the outer doors open.

Ronon, on the other hand, was less restrained as he took station behind John’s back. “Something we should know, Sheppard?”

“Oh, just the usual: local leaders want to kidnap McKay for their own nefarious purposes.”

“And you’ve got a gun on him why?”

John propelled Rodney forward with the fist still gripping the scientist’s collar. “Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly my plan.”

The unexpected extra momentum made Rodney stumble a little as he crossed the threshold out into the night, his shirt ruthlessly constricting his airway. He felt an angry flush suffuse his entire face. This was not what he’d had in mind, and he would’ve said so in no uncertain terms if he could just get air into his lungs again.

Well, crap. John’s left hand unclenched and jerked away from Rodney’s neck. No matter how much he figuratively wanted to strangle Rodney at the moment, actually doing it, however accidentally, was just not okay. He was torn between shouting at himself and shouting at Rodney, but since neither option would help them get home any quicker, he settled for looking back at Teyla as she closed the big door behind them. “Anyone try to follow us out?”

She shook her head. “I believe we are clear.”

With a quick exhale, John lowered his gun, but kept it unholstered. “Then like the man said, it’s time to go.” 

* * * 

Teyla reached out and tapped Ronon on the shoulder as they loped along the city’s soaring catwalks. They both slowed to a stop by a railing that commanded an excellent view of empty hallways, and picked up the water bottles they’d set down at the start of their run.

“I have not seen Doctor McKay outside of his lab for the past week except when Doctor Weir specifically summons him,” Teyla said as she opened her bottle. She tipped her head back and took a healthy pull.

Ronon lowered his own half-empty container and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, me neither. And anytime I offer to do close-quarters training with him, he doesn’t even bother to insult me anymore.”

Under other circumstances, that might have been amusing, but today it was simply worrisome. “He still flatly turns down my offers of guided meditation, and if I suggest sparring practice, he immediately withdraws.” She rolled her neck to release the tension, then looked up at Ronon. “And Colonel Sheppard?”

“He pretends like everything’s normal, but… ” Ronon shrugged one shoulder. “You’re the one here this morning, not him. No offense.”

The corners of Teyla’s mouth curved up slightly. “I understand. I also agree that something has been wrong between them since our second visit to Ku’ara.” She squared her shoulders. “And I fear it is up to us to figure out what it is.”

* * * 

Radek strode over to the lab’s whiteboard, and snatched up the blue dry-erase marker. His palms were a little sweaty, which was perhaps silly, but then again, so was what he was about to do. 

Well, maybe not silly, but there was a certain element of risk involved, which is why he couldn’t allow any of the more junior scientists to do it instead. He uncapped the marker and added several lines of calculations to Rodney’s unfinished work, inserting a deliberate and obvious mistake in the middle.

With a certain sense of foreboding, Radek went back to his workstation, laid the blue instrument of error next to his keyboard, and waited. And waited.

And waited.

After a good twenty minutes crept by, Radek gave up and resumed examining a recently-recovered Ancient device with Dr Kusanagi. They had just started to make some progress when they heard the distinctive sound of chair casters rolling along the floor tile coming from Rodney’s section of the lab. Radek exchanged a glance with Miko, then watched out of the corner of his eye to see what would happen next.

To start with, Rodney frowned at the whiteboard, which Radek found rather promising, but then he just let out a little sigh, erased everything from the mistake onward, and picked up a random dry-erase marker that he dropped on the desk next to Radek, saying, “Now go do it right.” And that was it — Rodney went back to his laptop without another word, like nothing consequential had just happened.

It was supremely disappointing.

Miko’s brow furrowed as she mouthed the words, “What now?” But Radek could only give her a little shrug and shake of his head as he pondered his next strategy.

* * * 

“Lorne’s team just headed out on a mission,” Ronon said as he led Teyla into the makeshift locker room the teams all used to gear up. “We should be able to be in and out before anyone comes back.”

“For what purpose?”

“Something happened on our last mission, right? Seems like the first place we should check out is the first place they went after we got back to Atlantis.” He stopped in front of Sheppard’s locker.

“Normally, I would advise against going through our teammates’ possessions,” Teyla said, even as she turned to keep an eye on the doorway.

“If you have a better idea, let’s hear it,” he replied absently.

After a few moments of faint metallic scratching and clicking, Teyla heard a soft clunk, then the sound of the hinges swinging freely. “You’re a man of hidden talents.”

Ronon grinned. “It comes in handy when people just expect you to break stuff.”

“Indeed,” she replied with a smile of her own. “Being underestimated can be… quite useful.” Teyla peered around Ronon’s arm into the nearly empty locker.

“Looks like just some extra shirts and bootlaces, and this,” Ronon said as he extracted a much-thumbed comic book. Nothing was tucked into it, or fell out when he riffled the pages, so he put it back and closed the door.

As Ronon worked on the next one, Teyla said over her shoulder, “Perhaps you can teach me that particular skill at some point.”

“Trade you for stick fighting training.” There was a sharp snick, and Ronon grunted. “Trust McKay to have a pickbreaker lock,” he said under his breath.

Soon enough, the little door opened to reveal the sign they’d all grown accustomed to seeing: Really Really OFF-LIMITS. Don’t Touch. McKay. 

Ronon began sorting through the various wrapped packets of what turned out to be medkit items and rations on the upper shelf, and Teyla checked the jumble of clothes and papers below.

“Just basic supplies up here, I think,” said Ronon.

“Other than clothes, these seem to be what he calls post-its and printouts, but nothing…” She trailed off as her hand encountered some thick, heavily-crumpled pages in the back corner.

As Teyla pulled them out, Ronon said, “Wasn’t McKay carrying papers like that when we bailed?”

“I believe so,” Teyla replied. She turned the sheets over to reveal the regrettably familiar grayscale images of the Genii bounty offers on Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard. “And I can’t imagine why else they would be in here. Surely the ones you and I found are in Doctor Weir’s mission report files.”

Ronon closed the locker back up again. “I guess we’ve got a lead to follow, then.” 

* * * 

Elizabeth pulled out a stack of pictures from one of the bulky folders she’d hauled onto her desk. “Here are the photos you brought me from 177,” she said. She fanned them out and did a quick count. “Looks like they’re all still here. Now, you two want to tell me why the renewed interest?”

Teyla gestured to Ronon to lay the now-smoothed photos they’d found that afternoon atop the old mission files. “We had almost hoped that these were somehow from that mission, but…” Her brow furrowed as she looked Elizabeth in the eye. “We have reason to believe that the Ku’arans were acting on these old bounties.”

Elizabeth folded her hands. “Okay, so why am I only hearing about this now?” When both of the other two hesitated, Elizabeth shook her head. “No, let’s skip that for the moment. Instead, maybe you can tell me why the Ku’arans wouldn’t have checked whether the bounties were still active. And if they thought they were active, why would they let you all go?”

“Ronon has a theory about that,” said Teyla, stepping aside for him.

“All these languages say the same thing,” Ronon said as leaned down to draw a finger down several lines of writing on John’s photo. “But this one here,” —he tapped a line that reminded Elizabeth of cuneiform, of all things— “and here,” —he tapped a similar-looking line on Rodney’s— “they’re different.”

Elizabeth sat back in her chair and raised an eyebrow.

“The Ku’arans use a different language for writing than for talking,” Ronon said. “Not something that happens a lot, but there are some epics in old Duruzid that we had to study.” He shrugged away the memory of his golden youth on a world that had since been seized and devoured by the Wraith. “Getting the right meaning can be pretty hard, and it looks like the Genii who wrote this had no idea what they were doing.”

“How so?” Elizabeth tipped her head to the side, as though that would make a very foreign language magically translate itself.

Ronon picked up Sheppard’s photo. “Most of these say about the same thing: Sheppard of Atlantis. Leader. Dangerous. Great reward for capture. The Duruzid is more like: The Shepherd of Atlantis. Warlord.” He paused, searching again for the best everyday words to fit the archaic phrases. “War-god-touched. His god blesses where he remains.”

Teyla said, “Ronon told me that the god-touched were traditionally considered somewhere between sacred and mad.”

Ronon nodded, adding, “And Shepherd is the official title they give to their most accomplished bounty hunter.” He switched out the two photos. “The one about McKay is worse, though. The original says: McKay of Atlantis. Scientist. Weak. Great reward for capture. The Genii tried to make his name into sounds, and combined with the word they used for ‘scientist’ ended up saying he was the living avatar of the Spirit of Intellect. And the word they used for ‘weak’ means to be protected.”

“So what you’re telling me,” Elizabeth said slowly, “is that the Ku’arans took a bounty offer as a sign that not only is Rodney some kind of reincarnated demi-god, but that they should protect him — in general, but possibly specifically from John, who they think is a berserker thanks to some other god — because one or both of them are somehow good luck charms?”

Ronon let that roll around in his mind for a moment before saying, “Pretty much, yeah.”

Elizabeth covered her eyes with her hands.

A sympathetic smile graced Teyla’s lips. “You can see why we brought it directly to you.”

“Yes, of course,” Elizabeth said as she lowered her hands to her desk again. “Well, that gives us at least some insight on why negotiations with the Ku’arans fell apart.” She gave a wry smile to the other two. “But why’d they let all four of you go?

“Maybe they decided we weren’t worth the trouble?” Ronon suggested with a half-grin that looked less than friendly, probably because it somehow bared a lot of teeth.

“Maybe,” she replied.

“In truth, we do not know what happened after we were separated,” Teyla said. “Ronon and I were taken to meet with one part of the delegation, while Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard were escorted to another. It seemed innocent enough at the time.”

“We should’ve known better,” grumbled Ronon. He shot a dark look at the bounty photos. “Parties make good distractions.”

Teyla gave a little shrug. “Perhaps. Everything seemed very ordinary where we were, until we got the urgent call to depart.”

Elizabeth had the feeling there was more to it, so let the silence spin out for a bit.

Teyla cracked first. “When we arrived back at the main hall, Colonel Sheppard had his weapon drawn.”

“Yes, the mission report mentioned that. Briefly. But how did that help?”

“Well…” Teyla began, then paused.

“He had it pointed at McKay.” Ronon finished.

Elizabeth took a quick breath. “Is that so? Funny how that little detail got glossed over.”

The other two ducked their heads slightly, almost in unison.

“Sheppard and McKay didn’t want to talk about what happened, even after we got back,” Ronon said. “For Sheppard, not that strange.” He shrugged one shoulder.

“But for Doctor McKay to stay silent… ” Teyla shook her head.

Elizabeth felt the corners of her mouth curl up ever so slightly. “Right.”

“And from what we can tell, they are still not talking to each other,” Teyla said quietly.

“Or us,” Ronon added.

That fit with what Elizabeth had observed, so she straightened up and gave a brisk nod. “Right,” she said again. “Leave it with me.”

As the other two turned to leave, she added, “And let’s just keep the religious good luck charm part to ourselves.”

* * * 

Rodney tucked his tablet under one arm as he hustled into Elizabeth’s office bright and early in the afternoon. “Say, can we make this quick? Radek’s still fiddling around with—” The sight of John aggressively slouching in one of the office chairs made the rest of what he may have been about to say vanish utterly. Once he realized he wasn’t actually speaking any more, he closed his mouth.

“Rodney, please have a seat,” Elizabeth said, gesturing at the unoccupied chair. 

He settled himself where she was pointing, crossing his arms so that the tablet was securely resting against his torso.

“I asked you both here because it seems we have a problem.” Both men stared at her like they had blinders on. “It appears the Genii never went back to clean up their mess.”

“Big surprise there,” said Rodney. “What is it this time?”

“Cowen’s bounty scheme. I understand some of their wanted posters are still circulating on other planets.”

John shifted minutely in his chair. He didn’t know exactly what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Rodney’s stomach lurched, but he rode it out.

Elizabeth opened a folder to reveal the original bounty photos from the 177 mission. “I take it from the awkward silence that just descended that you already knew about this?”

“Knew? How could we—I mean, the Genii are pretty damn sloppy, so that tracks, but—” Rodney knew he was babbling, but seemed powerless to stop it. Until he heard John cut in with, “Yeah, I heard something along those lines.”

“So can I assume that the reason you two haven’t been out on any missions recently has something to do with these, then?” She tapped the photos.

Rodney automatically glanced over at John, who still had his own eyes locked on Elizabeth, then back at the photos.

“You could say that,” said John with all the studied casualness of a man who routinely played poker with people who weren’t only better players, but better bluffers, just so he could try picking up their techniques.

Pursing her lips for a moment, Elizabeth narrowed her eyes slightly. She knew a precisely-worded non-answer when she heard one. “Listen, I’m not going to quiz you on when you got this intel or even why it never made it to my desk. What I will do is emphasize that when there are problems affecting my people — which, yes, includes both of you — I need to hear about it as soon as possible.” She closed the folder. “I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but if I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t very well help.” Both men just sat there like statues, and Elizabeth sighed inwardly. “I’ll be speaking with Ladon to get him to send out a retraction or whatever it takes to pull any offers still floating around.”

“Good,” John and Rodney said at the same time. Rodney felt hot prickles sting his cheeks.

“Maybe once he’s done that, it’ll be… safer to go on missions again,” said John, not believing a word of it. He carefully did not look at Rodney.

“Yes, safer!” Rodney blurted. He could feel his blood pressure rising, and he really wanted to go back to the lab. Immediately. He got to his feet, saying, “If that’s all… ?”

John stood up like he was spring-loaded, and turned toward the door.

“Not quite,” Elizabeth said, using her Expedition Leader voice to freeze the two men in their tracks. “I’m also not going to quiz you on what exactly’s going on with the two of you, but I can tell it’s affecting my people.” She let that sink in for a beat. “Do whatever it takes, gentlemen, but get it together.” Their fractional nods were remarkably out of sync, but were probably the most she was going to get out of them just now.

She watched as the two men silently left her office and split off in different directions as soon as humanly possible.

A moment later, Elizabeth adjusted the radio channel on her headset and opened the line. “Dr Heightmeyer? I’d like to speak with you when you have a moment.”

* * * 

“You wanted me out of the lab, and I’m out, dammit,” Rodney said, eyes glued to the tablet he was still tapping at as they walked through a wide corridor leading to the mess hall.

“Yes, but I was hoping you wouldn’t collide with people along the way,” Radek said. He looked back to give another apologetic grimace to Dr Parrish, who was still trying to shuffle his papers back into some semblance of order.

“Are they currently trying to improve the city’s energy distribution mesh so we don’t just bob around helplessly when the Wraith show up again?”

Radek looked up at the high ceiling like he might find some reserves of patience up there. “Probably not, but—”

“But nothing. This is actually important, yet here I am, out where random people can just fling themselves where I’m clearly walking. And working.” An oversized error message box flashed irritatingly on his screen, and Rodney abruptly stopped moving. By the time Radek had backtracked to rejoin him, Rodney had turned the tablet to jab an accusing finger at the words Simulation Failed. “There, you see? I told you those linkages wouldn’t do the trick.”

However inwardly pleased Radek might have been to have actually pried Rodney out of the lab, he wasn’t about to let such an outrageous misstatement pass without comment. “Ah, no, if you recall, those were your idea—”

“The linkages, yes, but this configuration—”

“Yes, yes, yes, the configuration failed.” Radek flapped one hand dismissively.

“Obviously,” Rodney said somewhat distractedly. He looked off into the middle distance up the hall, chasing an idea.

“Yes, obviously. So what if we… ” Radek trailed off as he saw the color drain out of Rodney’s face. “What?”

“You owe me so much blue Jell-O for this,” Rodney said flatly. Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and walked off with as much speed as his personal dignity would allow. Which was rather a lot, as it turned out.

Radek felt his mouth drop open as he watched Rodney charge back the way they had just come. What the hell just happened?

Then a hand clapped him on the shoulder, and he heard Colonel Sheppard’s voice from slightly behind him say, “Hey, doc.”

It was like dozens of tiny components suddenly clicked into place, completing a circuit that not only gave Radek a flash of insight, but sparked something incandescent inside his chest. He spun around, dislodging the Colonel’s hand. “You!” He pointed squarely at Sheppard’s chest, then at Rodney’s retreating figure. “That is it! You!” 

John froze in the face of Radek’s uncharacteristic incoherence.

“All this time, and you don’t come to the lab, and he never leaves… ” Radek swung his arm around to point at Sheppard again, shaking his finger emphatically. “You have broken him,” he said with a glare for the Colonel who was still just standing there with a baffled expression on his face.

Honestly, moments like these made Radek despair of the English language and its ability to penetrate the thick skulls of military men. He lowered his hand, but kept his eyes locked on Sheppard’s. “And now it is your job to fix him,” he said, lacing his words with all the dark menace of a man who not only knew how to rig remote detonations, but was also owed favors by people who could make it look like an accident.

John had no idea how to handle Radek being so upset about Rodney’s state of mind, so he just waited to see if anything more helpful was coming.

Radek threw his hands in the air and stomped back towards the lab, muttering in a language much better suited for calling fools to account than English. Also for swearing. 

His fury propelled him around the next corner before it dawned on him that he’d just given a blatant ultimatum to the Military Commander of Atlantis. Well, they say anger is a bad advisor. Perhaps I can find better ones back in the lab.

* * * 

Lightly rapping his knuckles on Dr Heightmeyer’s open door, John said, “Hey, doc—Doctor Heightmeyer. You got a minute?”

Kate closed the file sitting on her desk and looked up at Col Sheppard. “Of course.” She gestured to an open chair. “Have a seat?”

John stepped inside, but stayed on his feet. “This shouldn’t take that long.” He cast around for the right words to even start this… conversation.

Kate waited patiently, her features composed into a look of professional, polite interest. She’d practiced that look for ages until she could summon and maintain it at will.

“It’s about Rodney. The, uh, science team has let me know that he’s… Well, he’s not…” John rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “He’s been staying in the lab a lot.”

“Don’t most of the scientists spend a lot of time in their labs?”

“Sure,” John said with a shrug. “But they seem to think this is more than usual, even for him.”

“And what do you think?”

“Me?”

Kate leaned forward slightly. “Yes. Rodney’s a member of your team. How has he seemed on missions?”

“He… Well, he—or rather, my team—hasn’t been on a mission since the Ku’ara one went sideways.”

“Was someone hurt?”

John licked his inexplicably dry lips. “No one ended up in the Infirmary, or anything.”

“But something happened to make the mission go wrong.”

Crossing his arms, John nodded. “And they’re telling me it’s bugging Rodney.”

“But you haven’t talked with him about it,” Kate said in her most neutral, non-judgmental tone. She’d practiced that, too.

“Let’s just say he hasn’t been real interested in talking since we got back.” 

“Would you like to talk with me about it?”

John blinked. He was here to get her to talk to Rodney, not him. How was she not getting this? “Why would I…?”

“Because I can’t read your mind — nobody can — so I don’t know what happened, or what you’re thinking.”

“No, I… I just wanted to give you a heads-up about Rodney. You know, in case you could help him out.”

Kate nodded slightly. “I appreciate that.” She waited until he relaxed his stance as he got ready to leave, then said, “You know, John, Rodney can’t read your mind, either.”

John felt his brows draw together as he looked back down at Dr Heightmeyer.

“He remembers the things you say — probably more than you realize — but not necessarily why you say them.”

John couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that, so he nodded again and left her office. 

* * * 

The next morning, Kate took her breakfast tray out to her favorite balcony, and noticed Rodney sitting by himself in the far corner. He was alternating forkfuls of scrambled eggs and doing something with an electronic-looking device. They had the entire space to themselves for the moment, so she walked over to his table, and waited for him to look up. 

“May I join you?” she asked.

“Oh! If this is about missing our, um, appointment—” Seeing Dr Heightmeyer outside of a professional setting was jarring, like seeing nuns in a grocery store. You immediately felt like you were expected to confess something they somehow already knew you were guilty of.

“No, just about having company for a meal.”

Rodney slid his tray to the side. “Um, yes, of course.” He gave a breathless laugh. “Why not?” In point of fact, he could think of several strong reasons why not, but if he finished his meal quickly but politely, everything would be fine. Probably.

Kate gave him a little smile and sat down. If he stayed true to form, she suspected that her coffee wouldn’t even have time to cool enough to drink before he started talking.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the occasional scrape of a utensil on a dish and the gentle lapping of waves far below.

By the time she finished her fruit cup, she considered that this might run deeper than she’d previously thought. Or that was a really engaging device. 

Rodney finished his last bite of egg, powered down the device, and said, “Well, I should probably get back to it.”

Kate picked up her mug of coffee, and used it to gesture to his own. “But you haven’t had your coffee yet.”

“Huh.” He picked up his brimming mug and drank some. “I guess I should thank you for the company. And, ah, apologize for, for missing that appointment.”

“It was my pleasure. And thank you — I admit I was wondering whether you weren’t there because things were going quite well, or really wrong.”

“There’s a lot more of the latter than the former going around,” Rodney said weakly.

“Like that mission to Ku’ara?” She kept her voice quiet, non-challenging.

“No?” Rodney blinked a few times, resetting internally. “I mean, yes, but what, what makes you…?”

“I understand something happened.”

“Lots of things happened,” Rodney tried hopelessly. He willed his radio to crackle, for someone to say there was an urgent power problem somewhere, or that the Wraith had suddenly arrived, or, or—

“Something involving you and Colonel Sheppard.” She briefly looked down at her coffee, giving him a little mental space. Then she raised her eyes, and without any particular emphasis added, “And his gun.”

Rodney heard a loud rushing sound in his ears, or possibly just his brain. Even so, he heard himself whisper, “It was a ruse.” He dropped his gaze to the table. “My idea. So we could escape the legion of armed lunatics.”

Kate spoke equally softly, but without whispering, “It looks like it worked.”

His mouth twisted. “That’s what makes it worse.” His eyes skittered back and forth without actually focusing on anything, and his breath started coming faster. “Now it’s like he doesn’t even trust me to, to, to carry on a conversation, much less go on missions. It doesn’t make sense.”

Somewhere beneath the layers of professional distance she had to maintain, Kate felt her heart break a little. She pushed her personal feelings back down, and said, “Rodney, trust is built on competence and predictability. That doesn’t mean you can’t make mistakes, but it does mean that when you do something unpredictable, it’s hard for him to trust—”

Rodney felt a surge of irritation burn through some of the mental noise. He looked up and snapped, “Oh, I hardly think we’re likely to be in a situation where it even begins to make sense for me to—or for him—for any of that to happen again!” He waved one hand dismissively.

She nodded. “You may be right. But that means that there’s even more unpredictability in any new situation you encounter together.”

Crossing his arms, Rodney scowled at the unreasonably placid woman across from him. “So, presuming that my competence isn’t in question, exactly how in a fundamentally unpredictable universe, am I supposed to make him trust me in the future, hmm?

Kate tipped her head to the side, saying, “Why would you assume it's you he doesn't trust?”

* * * 

Radek greeted the new day in a more hopeful frame of mind. There had been some serious late-night brainstorming, and, really, it shouldn’t have taken four doctors — Dr Kusanagi, Dr Vogel, Dr Gerstmeyer, and himself — to come up with such a simple idea, but… Well. They had needed to drink, and decompress, and drink a bit more before they could get down to anything like problem-solving.

All of them agreed they could not simply wait for Colonel Sheppard to fix things, especially not when Radek suspected he might have some kind of low-grade brain trauma, given the way he’d been acting. Miko had started off by suggesting they reconfigure the transporters to whisk Sheppard off to the most distant spots in the city as punishment, but conceded that was unlikely to actually fix McKay, even if it might amuse him. Later, Noah held up his glass of bourbon and proposed generously lacing McKay’s pastries, or coffee, or whatever with some kind of alcohol to at least get him talking again. Then Lise commented what a shame it was that they couldn’t get McKay to approach whatever this was like a coding problem — at least when coders were stuck, they could talk it out with the rubber ducky. Everyone turned to look at her, making her ask, “What? Is that not how you say this? Rubber ducky?”

Radek assured her that she had the correct words and the best idea of the night. The ducky method was something they had all used — even Rodney — because when you had to verbalize what you were doing, in language that a simple duck could grasp, you eventually found the point at which what you intended was different from what was actually happening. Rodney might not be able to talk with actual people right now, but what could be less threatening than a little yellow squeaky ducky?

As before, Radek knew it was up to him to actually deploy their solution, with perhaps a pep talk of some kind. He had the most experience facing down Rodney’s various moods, after all. 

Lise had met him for coffee after lunch, and just before she handed over the bath toy, she gave its head a fond pat, saying, “Viel Glück, little duck.” She’d smiled somewhat shyly at Radek, then went off to work somewhere not the main lab.

Trying not to feel slightly preposterous about the ducky nestled in his pocket, Radek walked over to Rodney’s workstation with all the casual confidence he could muster. It wasn’t much, but it also didn’t really matter, since Rodney seemed entirely oblivious to his presence.

“Ah, good afternoon,” said Radek.

“Is it,” Rodney muttered automatically.

“Yes, well, perhaps it would be better if you were actually present.”

“Excuse me?” Rodney looked away from his work and up at Radek. “Am I not sitting here right now?”

“Yes, yes, you are physically here, but you haven’t been present for more than a week.”

“And yet I’ve gotten far more done than—”

“Have you, though?” Radek cut in. “Yes, you’re always busy, but it seems like you’re not really getting anywhere.”

That was actually far too close to accurate for comfort, and Rodney snapped his mouth shut. 

Radek took a breath and tried to modulate his voice to be more like the way Evan sounded when he was trying to calm a panicky group of civilians. “I know you are working on important things. But you’re not talking with us about them.” He saw Rodney’s eyes drop. “But that’s not what’s worrying us—me. Rodney, I’m worried about you. That last mission is obviously still bothering you.”

Rodney frowned as his stomach unaccountably churned.

“You do not have to tell me about it, but as your friend, I am saying you need to talk it through.”

“That’s not… not such a good idea.” What was with everyone trying to get him to talk today, anyway? Usually, people were telling him to shut up, and frankly that was a whole lot easier to deal with.

“I thought you might say this. So I have an alternative.” Radek pulled the ducky out of his pocket and carefully set it on the desk beside Rodney.

Rodney looked at the duck, then at Radek. Then he did it again. Words continued to fail him.

“You know how this works. Go somewhere and talk the ducky through it.” Rodney didn’t move a muscle. “And if it helps, perhaps you can get Colonel Sheppard to do it as well.” Before Miko arranges to drop him into the ocean.

Because he just knew Radek would pester him until he either gave in or had an aneurysm, Rodney picked up the rubber ducky with a sigh. “Fine.” He headed toward the lab door. “I’ll take ol’ Bill for a chat.”

He has named the ducky? Radek half-grinned to himself.

Without looking back, Rodney said, “Stop.”

Radek grinned wider, but silently held up his hands in surrender.

* * * 

Rodney set out at random, carrying the duck in one hand as he traversed the city’s long corridors to nowhere in particular. He alternated between feeling mortified that Radek thought his work had been so useless that he needed to use the Ducky Protocol — something Rodney himself had introduced to get the more junior scientists to only bring him problems that needed an actual genius to solve — and worrying that it wasn’t just Radek who thought so. A little voice in the back of his head kept pointing out that John certainly did.

It was so unfair.

He only realized he was clenching his fists when he heard a muffled squeak.

“Sorry, Bill,” Rodney mumbled. “Let’s go get some coffee.”

Leaning against the back wall of a hall alcove, John watched as Rodney emerged from the mess hall carrying a thermos and a metal mug. Instead of turning towards the transporter, though, Rodney was heading away from the city center.

John knew he wasn’t as dense as some people seemed to think — he’d known something was off this whole time. Of course he’d known. But how many times did he really have to get blowback for protecting Rodney from himself? Protecting him from the Wraith, the Genii, even the unknown, that was all part of leading a team. He’d do the same for any of them. But none of the others were so damn reckless. 

And in the end, those kinds of mistakes were his to make.

He watched until Rodney was almost out of sight, then trailed along behind.

The pier seemed as good a place as any to get a little privacy. Rodney sat on the edge, poured some coffee into his mug from the thermos, and held the ducky out at arm’s length. Where to even start?

Fortunately, he was now beyond feeling foolish about any of this, so he set the rubber duck down in the spot where John usually sat, and cleared his throat.

“I’m just going to go over some, some events with you, if that’s all right.” It was a slightly modified invocation, but Bill didn’t seem to mind.

“We were supposed to be conducting a little trade negotiation. At a party. For us.” He suddenly had the urge to explain that he knew there was no such thing as a free lunch — or free buffet, as the case might be — and that he should have figured it was a setup from that alone, but that wasn’t how the process worked.

“Let me rephrase. The idea was for all of us to make nice, have Teyla work out some kind of trade agreement — mostly for food — then come home basking in the warm glow of a job well done.” The duck offered no notes.

“It was Second Contact, and everything seemed fine on our visit the day before. The Ku’arans were interested in trade, nobody threatened to kill us, and, honestly, who doesn’t like a catered event on a planet where they’ve never even heard of lemons?” Yeah, Bill got it.

“Oh, I should say: the Gate was near the town gates, so we just walked on in. Remarkably little fuss. The second time we didn’t even have our P-90s, of course, diplomatic rules being what they are.

“Anyway, we all go in, and there are fizzy drinks and some kind of chamber music, and lots of people in fancy clothes milling around. Then Teyla and Ronon get escorted off to meet with the trade delegation. At the same time, we — I mean, John and I — get taken to meet with the, um, Minister of State, I think it was. I don’t know what all their political hierarchy was, but he was apparently right, right up there at the top.

“Things started going a little… strange when they announced us.” Rodney closed his eyes, seeing again the richly-appointed room: thick, patterned rugs in jewel tones on the floor, cushioned chairs and divans upholstered with tasteful tone-on-tone brocade, swaths of diaphanous curtains in some shimmering cloth dyed to match the rugs and upholstery. The people draped artistically on the furniture were improbably attractive, and all of them smiled at John and him when they entered the room.

“The butler, or whoever, said something like: Attention be given to the Sheppard and the McKay of Lantuck. It was hard to tell with his accent, though. All the pretty people did this little golf clap, which was different, but, hey, it’s nice to be appreciated instead of shot at.

“The Minister came over to say hello, and offered John what looked like a cigar.” Rodney wrinkled his nose. “And some very, um, curvaceous women brought us more drinks and started chatting.”

“More like they were chatting you up,” said John from just behind him.

Rodney flinched, but took a deep breath and opened his eyes to look out to the edge of the horizon. It had only needed this for his horrible week to be complete. He vaguely wondered if he should save time and just fling himself into the water rather than waiting for John to shove him off the pier. It seemed like a completely proportional reaction at this point.

John sat himself down on the far side of the duck, careful not to bump it. He stared out at the horizon, too. “Come here often?”

“Not so much these days. You?”

“Nah. I don’t come out here alone.”

Without looking over, Rodney waved a hand at the ducky. “Me neither.”

That didn’t even crack the top 20 list of strange things Rodney had ever said to him, so John just nodded. “Don’t let me stop your, uh, chat.”

Remembering what Radek said earlier, Rodney replied, “Oh no, nonononono — rubber-ducking is a full participation event.”

Okay, that one made the list. John looked over at Rodney. Maybe he was broken, after all.

Rodney caught the motion in his peripheral vision, and shot a quick glance John’s way. “You’re here, you talk, too. The goal is to figure out what went wrong.”

“We already know what went wrong—”

Rodney held up his hand, palm out in the universal sign for shut up. Then he pointed downwards. “Tell it to the duck. I was just at the part where—”

John gave in. “Where beautiful women were trying to beguile you, yes.”

“The more I think about it, the more I realize it was a mix of beautiful women and men.”

“All telling you how smart you are, and wanting to hear more about your gifts.”

“Until you stepped on my foot. Hard.” Rodney had been more surprised than hurt, and more annoyed than either.

“Something felt off!”

Rodney nodded. “So you said at the time.” He closed his eyes again. He recalled that John had indeed stage-whispered that at him, at which point Rodney whispered back, “Oh my god, you’re right — I mean how would they even know how gifted I am?” And then he’d spotted some very armed people stepping through multiple doorways on the far side of the room. Behind John.

“Behind me?” John turned to look fully at Rodney. This was news.

Rodney’s eyes flew open. He hadn’t quite realized he’d been speaking aloud. Now he turned to face John. “Yes, behind you! An imperial shit-ton of guards with big guns!”

John’s jaw dropped. God dammit, that would’ve been good info to have a week ago!

“Then I… I got an idea.” Rodney saw color rising in John’s cheeks, and he started talking faster, trying to get ahead of whatever shouting was coming his way. “It was your idea, actually. Back when we visited Cowen for the last time on the Genii homeworld. You said if we got into trouble, you could just trade your life for mine.”

Covering his eyes, John said, “That’s not—”

“I told you I wouldn’t be much use in a fight-our-way-out kind of scenario! But the Ku’arans were cozying up to me, trying to split us up, and suddenly I found a way to be useful.”

John felt the heat swiftly draining from his face. He let his hands fall.

“So I told the Minister that they couldn’t kidnap me because I’d already been kidnapped. By you.”

“I thought you’d lost your fucking mind,” John said under his breath.

“The Minister didn’t look any too happy about it, either. He said, ‘How could he have kidnapped you when you’re walking around here?’”

“And you told him that I had your whole family! That I’d kill them if you didn’t behave yourself!”

Rodney nodded. “And you got mad, just like that, which really helped sell it.” He drummed his fingers on one thigh. “I thought you’d seen the guards by then.”

“I was a little distracted by you having a full-on mental breakdown in front of my eyes!”

“So I leaned into it. I said, ‘See what I mean? Step out of line with this guy and—’” Rodney drew his finger across his throat just like he had before.

John was appalled, then and now.

“Yep, that’s the look you had. So I added, ‘Seriously, the weapons he lets me carry are all empty, and, and I shouldn't even be telling you this, but if it looks like I'm trying to escape, well, my grandmother would suffer. A lot.’ Then the Minister said something weird: ‘He really is a Sheppard, isn’t he?’”

A laugh choked its way out of John’s throat. “Not Sheppard, Shep-herd.” Rodney looked blank. “Ronon told me my damn name means bounty hunter in their language.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across Rodney’s face. “Ah,” he said weakly.

“That’s probably why the Minister asked if you felt safe with me and my weapons,” said John.

It was Rodney’s turn to choke on something that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“You looked pretty panicky then, which seemed like kind of an odd time to start.”

“I saw the guards moving in on you,” Rodney blurted.

A cold rage froze John in place. Those bastards.

“So I said, ‘Yes? I mean, he does say things like—’”

“‘I'll most likely kill you in the morning, especially if you keep running your mouth.’”

Just like he had then, Rodney pointed at John.

John remembered looking grimly at the Minister, who had gone pale with shock. John hadn’t felt far behind him.

“And then you said to the Minister, ‘Seems you think I can be fooled by this weak ruse to separate him from me. Why don’t you try making me an offer instead?’”

John wanted to look away, but knew he didn’t deserve that mercy. “And I told you, ‘See? I told you I'd sell your life in a heartbeat if you betrayed our arrangement.’” He knew it had been the right thing to say at the time, but he was still carrying the weight of those words. 

Rodney felt gutted. Again. He pushed on anyway. “It was like the Minister got all offended, and said, ‘Are you trying to tell me that you would part with this Imm-kay for mere money?’”

If he didn’t say the next line, John knew Rodney would, and somehow that would be far worse. “‘There are some days when I'd give you a dollar to take him off my hands,’” John said thickly. He swallowed hard. “But then I told him I had orders that came right from the top that Atlantis couldn’t part with either of us.”

“Yeah. And he went full religious nutjob — ‘Your gods may have spoken to you, but our priest tells us that neither yours nor ours will punish us for keeping you both. I think perhaps we should put this to the test.’ And every single person who wasn’t me in that room suddenly sprouted weapons of all kinds.”

“I saw. So I pulled my boot gun.”

“And pointed it at me.”

“I thought you wanted me to!” John waved his hands helplessly.

“I did! But I didn’t want you to mean it!” Rodney wrapped his arms around his stomach, secretly shielding the spot where John’s gun had left a small bruise.

“I had to make them believe it!”

“You haggled for me!” Rodney’s eyes burned as the anger threatened to overwhelm him.

That knocked the air right out of John’s lungs. He caught his breath, then quietly admitted, “I did.”

“I guess I should be glad you didn’t want the pretty girls, or lands, or anything.”

“You know you’re irreplaceable.” He spread his hands wide. “But I couldn’t let them believe I thought so, too.”

“Well, you sure nailed it with grabbing me like a human shield and the whole ‘You should know that I have orders to kill him rather than let him be taken alive’ thing.”

John gave a little shrug, and lowered his gaze to the ducky. “I never won an acting award, or anything…”

Rodney made a noise that could arguably have been a short laugh. “I just couldn’t believe you went with ‘If I can't have him, nobody can.’”

“Hey, it’s a classic for a reason.”

A shiver ran down Rodney’s spine as he recalled John’s silky whisper in his ear after that. ‘This was your doing, remember?’ Rodney decided the innocent little ducky didn’t need to hear about that.

John continued speaking in the direction of the duck. “The other old hostage drama line of ‘I can kill him a lot faster than you can take him away from me, so get your people out of our way’ seemed like the logical next step.”

“It might have worked,” Rodney allowed. “But that priest lady came in and started whispering in the Minister’s ear behind her hand. I heard the word spirit and release — adrenaline can really heighten your senses, you know?”

John nodded wisely at the ducky. “True.”

“I had no idea what she was on about, but the Minister looked you dead in the eye and said, ‘It seems your gods think it funny to use his weakness as your shield.’” Rodney tasted something bitter as the word weak ricocheted around his brain. He knew what he was, but he absolutely hated that someone had just tossed it out into the open like that, for everyone to hear. For John to hear. It still stung.

John blinked. He’d forgotten that little tidbit. Of course, he’d been pretty well maxed out on tracking the threats from literally all sides and assessing who might attack first while simultaneously trying to figure out how the hell he was going to get Rodney out of that mess alive. It had all blurred into a haze of multi-hued danger, and even though he basically had Rodney snugged up against him, there was no way to protect anything but his back. He’d been able to see the door out to the main hall, tantalizingly close and promising escape back to the normal world if only they could get there.

“The Minister grabbed some papers with our pictures on them from the priest, and was waving them around, as if we knew what they were. Then he actually threw them at me, screaming ‘Return to Lan'tuk, then, and take your false prophecies with you!’ I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d twirled his pencil mustache at that point. I mean, if he’d had a mustache.”

“At least the armed people between us and the door got the hell out of the way.”

“Yeah,” Rodney sighed. “And you didn’t even have to offer to kill me again.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “You know that’s part of the whole using-a-hostage-as-leverage deal, right?”

“No, not really.” Rodney hadn’t meant to say it, but it popped out anyway.

John gave him a full lifted-eyebrow incredulous look. “No?”

“I only know what I’ve read, or, or seen in movies! Or TV! I mean, kidnapping is different, that I know about from bitter personal experience—”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed with your little scheme!”

“And blurting out ‘Oh look at all the viciously armed guards coming at us!’ would have been better?”

“Probably not, but you can’t just go around making yourself a target like that!” John tried pressing his lips tight together to keep more shouting from coming out.

Rodney felt his face absolutely flaming with anger and embarrassment. “Well don't blame me, I've never had to make someone take me hostage before!"

“There’s a reason that’s not in the field manual, Rodney!”

“How would I know that? In case it escaped your notice, I’m not a soldier!”

“Of course you’re not! That’s my job!” John slapped the pier with an open hand, then leaned over it toward Rodney. “When there’s danger, I’m the one who’s supposed to draw aggro, to be your shield, to take fire instead of you!”

“Because I’m so weak I’m useless?” Rodney jutted his chin forward defiantly, daring John to admit it out loud. Or punch him. Whatever it took.

“Because you're my—my—” John’s throat felt thick, and he desperately tried to find the right word.

Rodney’s fury faded and his face fell even as he tried to blink away the fraught moment. John was going to tell him he was John’s burden, and Rodney wasn’t going to stop him. He was probably right, anyway. “It’s okay, you can just say it to the duck,” he whispered.

Fuck the duck, John thought as he leaned forward and gently laid both hands on Rodney’s shoulders. When those blue eyes finally drifted up to meet his, John heard himself say, “Because you’re mine.”

And Rodney’s magnificent brain, the envy of two galaxies and untold legions of villains and allies alike, took in this simple, straightforward declaration, and very efficiently flatlined. He stared at John’s familiar face, now so close to his own, bathed with the rose-gold glow of the sun gracefully arcing into dusk, and without any input from his stalled brain whatsoever, intelligently whispered, “Wha?”

John lifted his hands from Rodney’s shoulders and cupped his still-flushed cheeks. “I said you’re mine.” Slowly, slowly, slowly he moved closer, giving Rodney time to back away, to shake him off, to do something completely off-the-rails unexpected, and when their faces were so close he could feel Rodney’s breath on his lips, he felt as much as heard him murmur, “Yes.”

Rodney surged forward, freed from the metaphorical shackles of harsh memories and self-doubt and possibly even gravity, and there was much less distance to cover than he’d allowed for because John was moving forward, too. Their mouths met harder than either of them had planned, but the firm impact of soft, air-cool lips over hard teeth was glorious proof that they were here, now, and this moment was real.

John’s hands never stopped moving, going from tracing Rodney’s cheekbones and jawline to sliding his fingers through Rodney’s hair to cradling the back of his head at the perfect angle for them to discover each other’s mouths. Rodney gave himself over to that exploration, opening up to that slick tongue, those hard, capable fingers that elicited shockingly pleasurable sensations from areas he’d never even considered as potential erogenous zones before. Rodney had a passing thought that maybe the next time they kissed — and there would be so, so many next times — he’d make mental notes of those reactive spots, but right now all he wanted was to savor John’s need for him, taste it right off that clever tongue and sly lips. John’s hands were still roving, down Rodney’s back, fumbling at the hem of his t-shirt, coasting along his belly. Until one of them moved across that bruise.

Rodney drew in a sharp breath, pulling cool evening air into their kiss. John jerked back like he’d been stung, and Rodney tried to follow, but the way they were tangled together meant he was more or less pinned in place. John’s eyebrows drew together, furling a look of concern where there should be only pleasure right now.

“Is that where…?” John murmured. He hated the thought that he might have bruised the tender flesh he was only now getting to touch in a much better way.

Rodney nodded, glancing down. John’s hand was still under his shirt, but not on his body. Rodney wiggled his own hand free, and guided John’s palm down to his ribs again. “It’s okay,” he murmured.

John left his hand there, but shook his head. “It’s really not.” If his face hadn’t already been flushed, he knew it would be now, but for less pleasant reasons. He looked Rodney straight in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Getting us out alive?” Rodney kept John’s hand right where it was. “Seriously, I’ve gotten worse bumping into lab carts. Don’t go thinking you’re special.”

John dissolved into laughter that he muffled in the crook of Rodney’s neck. Rodney decided he liked that much better and leaned his cheek against John’s soft, messy hair.

“You really know how to reassure a guy,” John said against Rodney’s skin.

There was that shivery sensation again. Rodney gently poked his nose against John’s scalp. “You know I wouldn’t trust anyone else to take me hostage, right?” He’d expected John to laugh again, but no, John angled back just far enough to give him a look that said he thought at least one of the two of them was crazy. “I, I just mean I trust you.” Rodney thought about what Dr Heightmeyer said before, and added, “And you should, too.”

John bit his kiss-swollen lip. What could you say to a declaration like that? Fortunately, he was spared from having to find an answer, because Rodney let out a low groan, then muttered, “That’s so fucking hot,” as he launched himself at John again. After that, there was nothing for it but to kiss like they were trying to buddy-breathe their way through the sun sinking below the waves.

Some unknowable amount of time later, a particularly impertinent breeze blew across the ocean and right up Rodney’s shirt, snapping him back to awareness of the rest of the world that wasn’t John. Who he had been making out with for a deliciously long time. Which was amazing, and should happen more, and soon, but sometimes a man had to know his limits, like when his ass had gone completely numb from sitting on a metal pier for ages.

Reluctantly, he eased out of what had to be the most intense first kiss of his life. “We should, um,” —he stole another quick kiss just because he could— “maybe go back indoors?” John’s eyes drifted open, and the moonlight set the green flecks in them glittering, even as the rest of his face stayed the most relaxed Rodney had ever seen it be.

Rodney absolutely had to kiss him again, so he did. Quickly, but thoroughly. John hummed against Rodney’s lips, then smoothed his T-shirt back down. “I’d go on kissing, you know,” Rodney said, “but in case you’d forgotten, we’re outside. It’s chilly, I have a crick in my neck, my back isn’t likely to forgive me any time soon, and, well, my ass may never be the same again.”

John maneuvered so his lips were just grazing Rodney’s ear, and whispered throatily, “You let me know if you want… help with that.” A shudder ran through Rodney’s frame, and he tucked all that away for future reference.

For now, he watched as John got to his feet, ran a hand through his thoroughly disheveled hair, and stretched like a particularly self-satisfied cat. He liked the view so much he decided his various body parts could take it up with him later, because he wouldn’t have broken the moment for, for, well, for anything he could think of.

But then John reached down and took Rodney’s hand, and somehow when he overbalanced after getting upright, he found himself pressed against John’s chest, with those arms wrapped all the way around his shoulders. That kind of athleticism deserved to be rewarded, but John was just smiling down at him, and said, “We should definitely get you… inside.” And by the time the overtones of that phrase had worked their magic on his nervous system, John had steadied him on his feet, and scooped up the thermos and mug.

Rodney noted that the ducky, as per the protocol, was sitting by serenely on the pier, presumably happy in the knowledge that he’d helped them on their way. “Don’t forget Bill,” he said to John.

John picked up the ducky, and offered it to Rodney. “You named the duck Bill?”

Rodney just knew he was about to lose another round of name-that-object as he took the little toy. It felt like a small price to pay, though.

John chuckled. “Good name for a duck.”

“Really?”

John bumped shoulders with Rodney. “Yeah.”

They walked back to their city home, and not even the sure knowledge that Radek was never, ever going to let them hear the end of this could dim their respective grins.