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grammarwomanTitle: Send in the Clone
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
grammarwoman
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis, spoilers up to 5X07 "Whispers".
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 7800
Author's notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
undermistletoe's prompt "Day 11 - Soap Opera Tropes (Someone's got an evil twin, falls down an elevator shaft, switches a paternity test, etc.)". Many thanks to svmadelyn for hosting this year's challenge. I took a loose interpretation of evil twin and twisted it into cloning. Hey, it's canon for the show, right? Many apologies for being a dirty, dirty tease and leaving it on a cliffhanger. The rest should be up tomorrow. After all, it's par for the course for a soap opera.
Summary: The best-laid schemes o' Michael an' men turn into the best-laid times for Rodney.
Send in the Clone
In a small lab in the heart of a secret base somewhere in the Pegasus galaxy, organic vents hissed gusts of steam and strange veins of lights flashed. Michael’s fingers flickered over a computer screen and stopped on a blinking element.
“Excellent,” he intoned. He turned to one of his hybrids standing behind him. “The subject is ready.”
The minion stared at him with dulled interest.
Michael rolled his eyes and then inwardly cursed. He kept finding and having to root out those human mannerisms that had crept into his automatic responses: yet another sin for which the humans of Atlantis had to answer. “Cut him out, you idiot.”
The minion nodded and drew his blade. He slowly slit the membrane of the wall next to him, revealing an upright shape covered in a viscous substance.
Michael hissed impatiently, “Give me that! Were you this stupid before I made you a superior creature? Do I have to do everything around here myself?” He grabbed the knife and swiftly finished the cut, then reached behind the figure to sever the tendons that bound it to the walls of the development cocoon. When the shape slumped forward, he caught it around the middle.
“If you’re not too busy…” he snarled over his shoulder.
The minion blinked at him. Michael resisted the urge to drive the man’s own blade into his heart. “Come over here and help me get him out!”
Between the two of them, they wrestled the body to an inclined gurney and strapped it down. Michael scraped embryonic goo off the subject's face and attached a lead from the computer to its forehead. He scanned the results on the screen.
"Memory appears mostly intact - excellent. There should be no problem imprinting my created situations and controlling his recall abilities." He tapped on the screen. The lead stretching to the subject's head lit up and its body jerked slightly. Michael snapped at his minion, "Hold him steady!"
The transfer continued for a while as Michael monitored the brain activity. Eventually, the computer chimed its completion.
"Now to see how well I have wrought!" Michael triggered a single jolt down the tether, then another. The subject gasped and opened wide hazel eyes.
Michael loomed over the subject. "What is your name?"
The man blinked rapidly as his mouth worked to shape a word.
"What is your name?" Michael insisted.
"J-ohn." His voice cracked as he spoke. The man coughed and tried again. "John Sheppard."
"Good. And to whom do you owe your loyalty?"
The man's face drew up in concentration. "You," he offered after a moment's thought.
Michael smiled. "Very good. Our work can begin."
"Again. Tell me about your co-workers."
John sighed. "Teyla – Pegasus native, just had a baby, can kick anyone's ass, paired with Kanaan, has Wraith genes and some abilities, and you've got a serious jones for her."
Michael growled. "I do not appreciate the personal commentary. Continue -- carefully."
"Ronon – Pegasus native, former Runner, can also kick anyone's ass, hates you guys, loyal to me and the team and iffy about everyone else."
Michael nodded.
"Woolsey – Earth native, current civilian commander, total stuffed shirt, likes protocol and rules, useless in field ops."
"He seems to irritate you. I suppose you miss having a military commander since Colonel Carter was prematurely removed from her post?"
John shrugged. "Change in command happens. You deal or you get changed, too, and usually to a much crappier post."
"I see. Continue."
"McKay..." John stopped and bit his lip, lost in thought.
"Come now, John, surely you remember the infamous Rodney McKay."
"I do, but – " John looked torn. "I keep getting flashes of him, you know." He gulped. "Um, naked. But I thought...My military has rules against that sort of thing." He frowned. "I wish I could remember it all better."
"Interesting." Michael paced around the room. "It would explain a lot if you two were intimately involved. Otherwise, regardless of his intelligence, I can't see how you would have put up with him for so long. I certainly would have shot him for his insubordinate behavior." He turned to John. "Yes, this will be our key to the city. You will continue with this relationship, keeping it discreet, and having gained McKay's trust, you will pass on the necessary information to me. This should more than make up for the irregularities in your memory retrieval of Atlantis' security protocols."
John shifted in his chair. "Huh. That works. McKay – Earth native, genius, head of science, works best under pressure, target of infiltration." He swallowed. "Boyfriend. Check."
"Good. Proceed."
"Lorne – Earth native, second in command, whiz with paperwork…"
At the head of the conference table, Woolsey tapped together a sheaf of papers and placed them in a folder. "Now for the next item on our agenda... Colonel Sheppard, your team is due to depart shortly for M5K-382?"
Sheppard nodded. "Yeah, we got some intel that Michael might have an presence on that planet. We figured that we'd check it out, see if we can get any leads."
"And by we, he means him. I still say that this is not a good idea," McKay interjected. "Every time we mess with Michael's projects, it seems like we wind up doing more harm than good. I mean, how many more buildings do we have to have fall on us, or have our personnel sprout Hive ships, or provoke freaking zombies into chasing us, before we approach incidents like this with a little more planning and prudence?"
"Relax, McKay. As I recall, the zombies weren't chasing you. Besides, we're taking a Jumper, we'll go in cloaked, it'll be fine." Sheppard rocked back in his chair as he waved off McKay's concerns.
McKay scoffed, "I would like to go on record as reserving the right to say 'I told you so' when this all goes horribly wrong."
"If we scrapped missions every time you got nervous, we'd never leave Atlantis," rumbled Ronon.
Teyla leaned forward to ask, "Rodney, what precautions would make you feel better about this plan?"
"You mean aside from a battalion of Marines and the Daedalus as backup?" answered McKay. Sheppard and Ronon rolled their eyes in unison. "Fine. We'll take a Jumper, go poke around in Michael's stuff, the planet's core will suddenly develop a chain reaction and explode, and we'll see how relaxing it is to be charred corpses in space."
"And on that note, I wish you all good hunting. I expect a check-in every two hours." Woolsey stood up and nodded at them. "Good day."
The rest of the team got to their feet and straggled out of the conference room.
Teyla waved at the team. "I will join you shortly. I wish to say goodbye to Torren and Kanaan before our departure."
Ronon nodded as he headed off to his own quarters. "Meet you in the locker room."
Sheppard grabbed McKay before he could go charging off. "Rodney, hang on. Are you really that worried about this op? I can still call it off if you honestly think it isn't worth it."
McKay sighed. "Great, now you're being all reasonable." He frowned as he continued, "I know we need to chase down Michael before we're left scrambling to recover after another one of his Evil Overload schemes. I just have a bad feeling about this."
Sheppard grinned as he clapped McKay on the shoulder. "Do I have to take a drink now?"
McKay tried to hide his smirk and failed. "Oh, sure, life on Atlantis conducted according to the Star Wars drinking game rules. Brilliant plan. We'd be unconscious in no time, even if we weren't using Ruus wine."
His head jerked up as his earpiece squawked. His eyebrows lifted in irritation as he tapped it. "Go ahead, Zelenka." He looked at Sheppard and mouthed "Later" as he turned to charge down the hallway. "This had better be quick. I've got an imminent date with destiny." He paused, and Sheppard could faintly hear as McKay zoomed out of sight, "Ha ha, fine, rib me about my lack of social life. I bet I've had an actual romantic encounter more recently than you have!"
Sheppard raised his hand to wave goodbye at McKay's retreating back. "I bet you have, buddy. God knows it's been forever for me." He shook his head and headed to the nearest supply room. When it came to potential run-ins with Michael, there was no such thing as too much C4.
"Why does it always have to be trees?" complained Rodney as the team loaded up their gear in the back of the Jumper. The cloaked survey of the planet had turned up nothing in the way of settlements or Ancient outposts, just miles of woods and a blip on Rodney's screen. "The faint power signature can't just be laying around in the middle of an open field where we can actually scope it out from the air. No, it has to be right in the center of a huge forest, unreachable except by hours and hours of unrelenting walking."
"Quit your bitching, McKay. Geez." Sheppard checked his vest, then went over Rodney's out of habit.
Rodney barely acknowledged the fussing as he scanned his datapad. "Right. No human or Wraith life signs, a power source of indeterminate origin, and us. Let's hope it stays that way."
Once the team exited the Jumper, Sheppard closed it up and stuck the remote in a vest pocket. The group fell into their accustomed positions and set off into the trees. Rodney called out corrections to their course as they moved towards the target. The team kept quiet, listening for signs of trouble and looking for clues to the source of the blip.
They had been walking for a while when Teyla gasped. "Wait," she said and looked back towards the direction of the Stargate. Suddenly, the team could hear the distinctive whine of multiple Wraith darts.
"Crap!" shouted Sheppard. "Fall back to the Jumper!"
Rodney did his best to keep Sheppard in his sights as he frantically ran back through the trees. He could hear the rattling of bullets from Teyla's P-90 and the blasts from Ronon's gun somewhere off to the side of them, fading quickly as they outdistanced him. "Relax, McKay. Everything will be fine, McKay," he panted to himself. He dodged around a large boulder, but when he looked ahead for Sheppard, the man had vanished from sight. "Dammit!" Rodney whipped out his life signs detector but fumbled it as he ran. It skipped across several stones before it slammed face down. "Great!" He snatched it up, only to find it dead. "Just swell." He tapped on his earpiece. "Sheppard! Come in!" There was no response. "Teyla! Ronon! I've lost sight of Sheppard, he isn't answering his comms, and my damned detector is broken!"
"Rodney! Stay where you are, and we'll circle back to help you look!" Rodney heard the sound of darts behind Teyla's voice. He ducked for cover when a pair of silvery beams passed uncomfortably close to him. "Great! I'll be here, trying not get harvested!"
When the beams and the screaming of the overhead ships faded, Rodney ventured out from behind the boulder. He could hear a loud crunching coming from several yards away, like someone walking through the underbrush. "Sheppard? You there?" He tucked away the useless detector and readied his P-90.
Rodney carefully picked his way across the uneven ground and still almost fell over a small ridge. He flailed to regain his balance, then he caught a glimpse of something white and immediately flattened himself against the top of the overhang. Almost fifteen feet below him, Sheppard's body laid motionless on the ground, his shirt ripped open as a Wraith grunt reared back with his feeding hand aloft.
"Son of a bitch!" Rodney raised his weapon and unloaded a full clip into the Wraith. It had started rising to its feet and turning at the sound of his voice; the force of the bullets toppled it over onto its back. It twitched a few times before it collapsed.
"Sheppard!" Ronon's voice blared through the radio link.
"I found him!" Rodney shouted. "He's down, and the Wraith about to feed on him is toast. I'm going to check on them."
"Rodney, be careful!" warned Teyla. "We should be there shortly."
Rodney grumbled about barn doors and horses as he slid down the ridge. He slapped in a new clip and cautiously advanced on the Wraith. He nudged it with his boot, but it stayed dead. He heard a noise from behind him and whipped around, instinctively raising his weapon. Sheppard groaned again and put a hand to his head. "Who put that hill there?"
"Sheppard! Are you OK?" Rodney crouched down beside him and did a quick visual inventory. Aside from a few cuts and scrapes, a torn shirt, and a nasty-looking gash on his head, Sheppard appeared to be intact.
"Aside from my head feeling like a cracked watermelon, yeah." Sheppard levered himself up onto his elbows, noticed his opened shirt and the Wraith. "Looks like you got here in the nick of time. Thanks." He tried to sit up all the way, but sank back down with another moan.
"Take it easy. Ronon and Teyla will be here soon, and we'll get you back to the Jumper." Rodney started patting down his vest pockets, looking for his first aid supplies. "Where's your tac vest?"
Sheppard blinked at him. "I...don't know. I guess he took it off me, first?"
"Right. Here," replied Rodney, pulling out antiseptic wipes and bandages. By the time Ronon and Teyla arrived a couple of minutes later, Rodney had a tidy dressing on Sheppard's head wound.
"What happened, John?" inquired Teyla, scanning the woods around them for any other enemies.
"A culling beam went flashing by, and I didn't see the cliff in front of me until I was falling down it head first. Things got a little fuzzy after that." He tried sitting up again; this time, he succeeded.
"Screw the intel - let's go home." Ronon threaded an arm around Sheppard's shoulders and carefully pulled him to his feet. "Can you walk?"
Sheppard shook his head and looked like he was about to hurl. "Sure, if I could tell which of the two of everything was the real one."
"Right." Ronon snaked a hand around Sheppard's waist and brought Sheppard's arm across his shoulders.
"Ow!" yelped Sheppard. "I think I wrenched my shoulder when I fell. Sorry, dude, but you're too tall for this to be comfortable. Rodney, get over here."
Rodney was startled at the request, but sprang into action. He gently repeated the support positioning as Ronon stepped back.
"Thanks, buddy. That's better." Sheppard nodded ahead of them. "Somebody lead the way back. I'm all turned around."
Teyla concentrated. "I can no longer sense any Wraith presence on the planet. I would guess that the Wraith retreated when they heard our gunfire. Still, I will take point, and Ronon, you cover our six."
Ronon gave her a nod, and the team set off. They arrived back at the Jumper without any further encounters and waited expectantly for Sheppard to open it up. He looked back at them. "What?"
"Oh, right, you lost your vest. Good thing I brought a spare." Rodney awkwardly fumbled at his pockets for the remote while trying not to dump Sheppard on his ass.
Once they got inside, Sheppard settled gingerly into the passenger seat. "Rodney, take us home, and try to fly straight this time. Any loop-de-loops and I'll be barf-de-barfing in your lap."
"Right, because I'm the one given to daredevil flying," snapped McKay, as he ran through the flight prep sequence. He noted with quiet relief that his extra hours of practice were finally paying off as he guided the ship swiftly and directly back to the Gate and through to Atlantis. Even Ronon didn't crack any remarks, and Teyla gifted him with a wide grin as they settled down in the Jumper bay. "You performed admirably today, Rodney. You should be proud."
"Yeah, nice job, McKay." Ronon clapped him on the shoulder and followed Teyla out of the ship.
Having been alerted to their return and Sheppard's condition, Keller bustled into the Jumper with her med kit. "What's this? What amazing feat of technology did you pull off this time?" She ran a scanner over Sheppard's head.
"He saved my life," said Sheppard, and turned thoughtfully to Rodney, who realized that he had frozen in the midst of gathering up his equipment, unsure how to respond to the praise. Flustered, Rodney waved off the remark. "It's what we do, right? Take turns saving each other from certain death."
"Rodney." Sheppard's voice cut through Rodney's bluster. "Thank you." He smiled, that slow, honest smile that never failed to warm Rodney in places that he tried not to notice.
"You're welcome." Rodney found himself grinning back.
"Sorry to break up this tender moment, gentlemen, but the Colonel here has a date with a bed in the infirmary so I can patch this up. It looks like you got very lucky - it's only a mild concussion. Let's get you out of that seat and on your way." Keller reached out to give Sheppard a hand, but Rodney leaped in before she could finish.
"No, wait, I got him." He pulled Sheppard to his feet. "You OK yet with the walking?"
Sheppard took a tentative step. "Maybe. Stick around in case my navigational controls cut out on me again."
"Sure thing." Rodney tried to stifle his grin and poised himself right behind Sheppard's careful walk, ready to lend a steadying hand.
When they got to the infirmary, Keller waved Sheppard up onto a bed. Rodney found himself reluctant to leave; he justified to himself his lingering presence as a friend's duty to an injured teammate. He sat down in a chair that was out of the way. As Keller finished cleaning and stitching the gash on Sheppard's forehead, a familiar routine during which Rodney found himself zoning out, she said, "That should take care of it. You don't have any breaks or bad sprains, but you'll probably be sore from that tumble you took. I'd like for you to stay here overnight for observation. It may be only a mild concussion, but I'd feel better keeping an eye on you."
"Doctor Keller," whined Sheppard. "I really just want to go take a shower and sleep in an actual bed tonight."
"Fine...as long as you can find someone willing to check on you every couple of hours until tomorrow morning." She looked at him with an amused grin.
"McKay."
Rodney, distracted at the thought of the long list of projects waiting for him back in the lab, startled back to awareness. "Hm?"
"Tell you what -- I'll be a captive audience to your promised 'I told you so' every two hours, if you'll keep me company tonight," drawled Sheppard.
Keller shook her head as she removed her gloves and chucked them into a wastebasket. "Odd sort of alarm clock, but as long as he's willing..."
Rodney gaped at Sheppard for a moment before he recovered. "Fine! I mean, sure. I mean, that's quite the generous offer, but I hardly think that sleeping on the floor in your room is going to be good for my back. I'm sure Doctor Keller doesn't want to trade one injured patient for another."
Sheppard sighed. "OK, we'll go back to your room, and I'll sleep on the couch, and you can have your precious prescription mattress. Will that work for you?"
Outflanked, Rodney stammered out his agreement.
Keller stepped up and pressed a bottle into Rodney's hand. "Easy on the painkillers, and no giving him anything stronger out of the supply I know you've got stashed away but won't admit to." As Rodney opened his mouth to refute the charges, she raised a hand. "It's OK, Rodney; I won't tell. Just make sure to wake him every couple of hours and check out his mental processes. I'm sure you know the drill by now." They all snorted in cynical amusement. "Colonel, I want you back in here tomorrow morning and on limited duties for the next week. Understand?"
Sheppard slid off the bed and sketched a sloppy salute. "Aye aye, sir. C'mon, Rodney, let's blow this joint."
He strolled out of the infirmary with a pale imitation of his usual swagger. When they reached the corridor, he stopped. "What?" asked Rodney, anxious that Sheppard had changed his mind and was pondering a more suitable nursemaid for the evening.
"I was just thinking that we should stop by my quarters and pick up a change of clothes." Sheppard scratched the back of his neck as he looked down one way, then the other.
"Oh! Yeah, good idea." Rodney waited for Sheppard to start walking. When Sheppard stayed put, an uncertain look creeping onto his face, Rodney found his relief at not being replaced turning to irritation. "Colonel! You can't possibly have forgotten the way to your quarters!"
"Hey!" Sheppard protested. "Cut me some slack -- concussion, remember?"
"You and your 'creative' sense of direction – how did you every make it back to base as a pilot, Sheppard?" Rodney shook his head and gestured down the hallway. "This way, if you please."
Sheppard gave him an ironic bow. "You're so kind."
When they reached the door to Sheppard's room, he stopped again.
"Trust me – this is your room." Rodney pointed at the entrance crystals.
"I know! I was just – look, can you wait out here? I haven't cleaned up the place in a while; I wasn't expecting visitors."
Rodney goggled at him. "You can't be serious! I've seen your room. If Keller ever needed an additional sterile operating suite, she could come here."
"Rodney!" Sheppard snapped. "Give me a minute, OK?"
"Whatever." Rodney turned to face the corridor. "I won't even peek."
"Thanks." Sheppard disappeared into the room. He emerged several minutes later, toting a small duffel.
"About time – I was beginning to worry that I'd have to send in a search party!"
"Sorry that I'm moving a little slower today." Sheppard grinned wryly. "Ready?"
Rodney sighed. "Lemme guess: you don't remember how to get to my room, either?"
He couldn't be sure, but it seemed like the faintest blush crept over Sheppard's cheeks. He suddenly felt like a jerk. "Never mind. Follow me."
Once they reached Rodney's room, McKay stripped off his vest and boots with a weary sigh. "Before you can volunteer me into another act of kindness, I will magnanimously offer you the first shower. I've rigged it so this room will never run out of hot water, so take as long as you need. Just not too long."
Sheppard rolled his head around and tried to stretch his shoulders. "Well, in that case, I was hoping that you'd let me take a swim in your deluxe tub. I think a full immersion would work wonders on my muscles. I think I've got more bruises than skin at this point."
Sheppard seemed determined to keep Rodney off guard, but he rose valiantly to the challenge of keeping up a sarcastic front. "Would you care for the freesia bubble bath while you're at it, your Highness? Or perhaps some port and a cigar?"
Sheppard perked up. "Why - do you have any?"
"No, Colonel. Sorry." Rodney twirled the dials and the tub began to fill up with steaming water.
"Oh." Sheppard sighed with disappointment. "Tell you what, there's one big favor you could do for me. I can't raise my arms above my head without twinging, so could you help me take off my shirt?"
Rodney had to stop and perform a hasty mental reality check; Sheppard's request came uncannily close to one of his favorite fantasies about the Colonel. He realized he had taken too long to reply when Sheppard drawled, "Atlantis to McKay. Come in, Rodney."
His mouth answered without his consent, "I was pondering if we shouldn't just cut it off of you," a thought at which Rodney's cock gave an interested twitch, "seeing as it's already ripped."
"Nah, I can still use it. I don't have that many shirts to spare. C'mon, help me out here." Sheppard set his hands on the waistband of the shirt and started to lift it up.
Rodney gave a stern warning to those parts of his body that responded with excitement to the enticing image of Sheppard's hairy stomach emerging from under the shirt. "Stop before you sprain something further." He brusquely grabbed the hem out of Sheppard's hands and eased it over his head, pulling it forward and down to avoid raising Sheppard's arms.
"Mmm, thanks," purred Sheppard. Then, to Rodney's utter shock, Sheppard stroked his hands down Rodney's back and pulled him in close. "I was wondering if I was going to have to start begging."
Rodney's brain momentarily went offline and he froze in shock. "What...What...Sheppard!"
"We're alone now, you know. You can call me John." Sheppard leaned into the angle of Rodney's shoulder and ran his lips under his ear. "I'm almost tempted to skip the bath - you smell good." His voice dropped so low on the last word that Rodney felt it as a rumble on his skin.
Rodney battled to stay upright when his knees threatened to buckle under him. "Sheppard, stop!"
"Relax, Rodney. I'm sure Keller won't mind a little light...activity." The bastard had the gall to actually waggle his eyebrows at the insinuation. "I'll even sit back and let you do all the work." Then Sheppard's -- John's -- Sheppard's (Rodney's brain, struggling to piece together coherent thoughts, vacillated between the two) hands slid under Rodney's waistband and dipped downwards to cup his ass. As John ground himself against Rodney, Rodney couldn't help but notice that John was very happy to be there.
"But...John...that's disgusting!" John leaned back, hurt. "I mean, I'm disgusting! I need to get cleaned up or I may die from filth overload."
John smiled again. "Perfect. You wash my back, and I'll wash yours. Maybe some other parts, too."
Rodney made one last valiant effort at self-control. "Sheppard --" John raised a warning eyebrow. "Fine, John, maybe I don't want to take advantage of you in your brain-damaged condition!"
John looked at him increduously. "You think I need a head injury to want to get close to you? Where's that infamous McKay pride?"
"Evidently the same place where you left your natural reserve and six-foot personal space bubble!"
John laughed. "Aw, Rodney, I let you in all the time."
Memories flashed through Rodney's head, of various shoulder claps and bumps, vest tuggings, all sorts of contact that, now that he considered them, seemed reserved for him alone. He gave up and went with his urges to lean in, brushing his lips across John's grin. He tilted back to check for John's reaction.
"Oh no you don't!" John reached up to grab the back of Rodney's head and zoomed in for a lingering kiss, sweeping his closed lips against Rodney's again and again. "Let me in, Rodney," he murmured, and swiped his tongue against Rodney's bottom lip, a quick darting lick.
Rodney let loose the last of his inhibitions and opened his mouth, allowing John to plunge his tongue in to tangle with his. The kiss went on and on, until Rodney was practically dizzy from a lack of air. "Bath," he gasped. "Sit."
"Having trouble with the words, there?"
Rodney growled and backed John up against the edge of the tub. "Shut. Up." He distracted John with another wet, dirty kiss, as he quickly unfastened his pants and shoved them down along with his underwear to let his cock spring free. He did the same to John. At the first touch of their cocks against each other, John let out a moan. "Bath," he panted. "Now."
Rodney grabbed John's ass and rubbed his cock against the crease of John's hip. The sensation felt better than anything he'd ever let himself imagine.
"Rodney!" John grabbed at him, overbalanced.
"Sorry." He pulled John back to his feet, then knelt to yank down John's pants and boxers, where they pooled against his ankles. He got distracted by John's cock bobbing right in his face, so he stole a quick taste. At the touch of Rodney's mouth, John groaned and clutched at Rodney's shoulders.
Somewhere in Rodney's logical processes, a warning bell was going off. When he stopped to pay attention to it, it pointed out that John still had his socks and boots on, which would get in the way if they ever made it all the way into the bathtub. "Right," said Rodney. "Sit."
John blinked at him. Rodney pointed to the offending articles. "Oh, yeah." John sat down on the edge of the tub. Rodney struggled with the laces and finally removed the obstacles, revealing John's bony, hairy feet. He quickly dragged John's remaining clothes off, catching the bottoms of John's feet with his fingers. John twitched. "Ticklish!" he complained.
Rodney made a mental note for later. He then stood up and stripped as fast as possible. He looked up to find John gazing wide-eyed at him. "What?" he questioned defensively. "We can't all be lanky GQ models!"
"Rodney," John breathed. "You look..." He trailed off, and licked his lips. "Good."
Rodney checked his first impulse, which was to tackle John into the tub. Instead, he stepped into the middle of the water, wincing a bit at the elevated temperature. He held out a hand to John. "Swing around -- there's a bench right here."
John took his hand and eased himself onto the seat. He hissed as he sank into the hot water up to his shoulders. "Oh, God, that feels good." His head dropped back with a 'thunk' on the edge.
"Sit up a bit," instructed Rodney, and swung in behind him. He ran his fingertips over John's shoulders, looking for the worst of the knots. "Back in the day, I used to give a mean backrub." His thumbs found a nasty snarl of muscle and leaned in. "How does this feel?" he murmured into John's ear.
"If this is your -- ohh -- mean backrub, I think your polite one would kill me." John sighed in appreciation as Rodney worked. The noises John made revived Rodney's erection, which had wilted at first contact with the heat. When he could feel John's muscles smooth like putty under his hands, he leaned in to nibble on John's neck and run his tongue along the shell of John's elfin ear.
"All better?" he asked.
"Come here," John said. "I want your mouth."
More fluidly than he could have ever imagined himself doing, especially after the day he'd had, Rodney glided around to straddle John's lap and bent for another deep kiss. John's hands roamed over Rodney's skin, mapping out previously unknown erogenous zones.
Lost in a haze of sensations, Rodney ground down against John, who bucked up to meet him. Any opinion Rodney had held up to that point about time and relativity got tossed out the window. In what could have been forever or only a minute later, he found himself hissing in pleasure and coming like his bones were melting. He braced himself against John. A few thrusts later, John ground his fingers into Rodney's hipbones and stifled a shout as he came.
When Rodney was able to take any notice of his surroundings, he realized that he was slumped over John. John didn't seem to mind, as he was pressing soft kisses to Rodney's shoulders and skimming his hands over Rodney's back.
"That was…" managed Rodney.
"Yeah." agreed John.
Their eyes met in amused wonder. Rodney started chuckling. John chimed in with his braying laugh.
They eventually recovered and split apart, Rodney sliding onto the bench next to John. John trailed his hands over his stomach, rinsing the come off his abs. "Sex in the tub certainly makes clean-up a breeze."
Rodney looked down at himself. "You have a point, but still…Let me get the soap."
Their energy lasted just long enough to quickly but thoroughly scrub each other, towel off, and collapse into bed. John poked Rodney in the middle of a jaw-cracking yawn. "Don't forget the alarm."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I am even more invested in your health now than I was before. I'm on it."
Rodney's internal time-sense jolted him awake, and he blinked at the clock. It was just a few minutes shy of the alarm's set point, so he switched it off and dialed the bedside lamp to low. John didn't even stir at Rodney's movements. Rodney was struck with an evil idea.
It only took a couple of strokes of Rodney's tongue along the soles of John's feet for him to wake up with a protesting shriek. "Hey!"
Rodney nibbled on John's big toe. "What?"
John yanked his feet out of reach. "Those are off-limits!"
"Really." Rodney trailed his fingertips up John's calves to his inner thighs, dipped his knuckles to run across his perineum, and then softly stroked the underside of John's cock. It hardened even as he watched. "What about here?"
John's eyes glittered in the low light of the room. "I suppose I could grant you a full-access pass there, but I'll have to verify your security clearance."
"Hmm," said Rodney. "Let me see." He bent his head and took John's cock into his mouth, one slow inch at a time. He looked up. "Hmm?" he asked, his mouth still full.
"Nnnggghh," replied John.
Rodney pulled off. "I'm sorry, was that a yes or a no?"
"Yes, dammit!"
"Good." Rodney gripped John's cock and began to idly pull up and down. "Hey, wasn't I supposed to test your mental faculties right about now? Let's start with an easy one: what's your favorite carnival ride?"
John watched the head of his cock slip in and out of Rodney's grip. "Ferris wheels."
"Correct! Now, name the last three leaders of Atlantis."
John glared at Rodney, who smirked back at him. "I'm sorry, was the question too difficult?"
"Dr. Elizabeth Weir, Colonel Samantha Carter, and Richard WoolSEY!" John gasped as Rodney sucked his cock back into his mouth on the last syllable. "Great! Now I'm going to have really inappropriate associations with his name!"
Rodney let go long enough to say, "Oh, don't mind me. Last question: what are my PhDs in?" He then renewed his attention to John's cock, this time using both his mouth and hands.
John threw back his head. "I've got about two brain cells left, and they're busy trying to make this last more than thirty seconds!"
"Now that sounds like a challenge." Rodney devoted his full concentration to John, who was soon panting and gasping.
John started to tense up and tried to pull himself out of Rodney's mouth. "Rodney, I'm gonna –"
Rodney didn't relinquish his grasp; instead, he growled and anchored John's hips with both hands as he swallowed him down, savoring every pulse.
"If you're gonna wake me up like this every time, I'm not going to make it to the morning!" John reached out an arm to idly scritch Rodney's head, pillowed as it was on John's thigh. Rodney lifted up his head into the caress.
"You really are a cat person," said John. "How would you like a nice tummy rub?"
Soon Rodney found himself flat on his back while John gave him a briskly efficient hand job. John apologized, "Sorry, but I don't think bobbing my head up and down right now would be the best idea."
"S'allright," slurred Rodney. John was soon rewarded by a stripy mess across his knuckles. He licked it off as Rodney watched avidly.
"God, you're like the best porn ever!" Rodney wished he could take the words back as soon as they left his lips, but John just smiled and bent to kiss him. Somehow, the taste of himself in John's mouth was even better than expensive coffee. However, it did not have the same rejuvenating effects as caffeine, and Rodney barely remembered to reset the alarm before rolling over and burying his nose in the nape of John's neck.
Rodney actually slept all the way to the blaring of the alarm. He looked around blearily for John, who turned out to be in the doorway of the bathroom. "Sorry. I had some personal business to attend to." He slipped back into the bed and curled back up next to Rodney. "What's my next test, professor?"
"What? Oh, right. Um…" Rodney thought for a bit. "What's my sister's name?"
"Jeannie Miller. And your niece is Madison and her dad is Kaleb."
"Very good. Who's the guy on the poster in your room?"
"Johnny Cash."
"Cool." He yawned. "Look, I hate to break our lucky streak, but I couldn't get it up again with a crane, and I am really beat. Mind if we just snooze some more?"
"Sure. G'night, Rodney."
"Good night, John boy." That earned him a whack from the pillow and an irritated grumble from John. He smiled as he drifted back to sleep.
When Rodney woke next, it was to light streaming through his window and John getting dressed. Rodney was disappointed: so much for morning sex.
John crouched down beside the bed. "I thought we'd go to breakfast and then after I see Keller, maybe I could hang out with you in the lab, a little of the old lightbulb duty?"
"Sure, sounds good." Rodney tried not to sulk, but as usual, his complete lack of a poker face failed him.
John cocked his head. "Hey, what's up?"
Rodney turned away. "Nothing."
"Rodney – look, I don't mean to resort to clichés, here, but my head is pounding and I just want to get something to eat so I can take my next round of painkillers. Believe me, if it weren't for that, we wouldn't be getting out of this bed until sometime next week."
"Really?"
John gave him a thorough kiss. He'd evidently brushed his teeth. "Really. Now let's get going and see if today's waffle day."
Rodney threw back the covers. "Oh, man, I love waffle day."
It was the first breakfast in a long time that Rodney started with a good mood before his first sip of coffee, even though it turned out to not be waffle day. He poked at his runny eggs, slurped down his coffee, and tried not to gaze at John like a moonstruck calf.
John seemed to be having better luck hiding his feelings, or else his headache was even worse than he had said. He slipped Rodney an occasional knowing grin and a lecherous raised eyebrow as they traded brief remarks over their food.
After breakfast, they strolled together to the infirmary. John gave Rodney an affectionate shove at the door. "Thanks for walking me to the bus stop, Mom, but I think I can take it from here."
"Play nice with the other kids!" Rodney suppressed a jaunty wave and left.
He had a hard time concentrating in his lab; lurid clips from the previous night kept playing in his head. Zelenka had to snap his fingers in front of Rodney's face to get his attention.
"McKay! I have been calling your name many times now. Is there something the matter?"
"No! I'm just a little tired." He realized that a little misdirection would go a long way towards offsetting the rumors that were probably already making the rounds, and settled on a half-truth. "Sheppard had me acting as his concussion-clock last night, and I hardly got any sleep. If you thought his laugh was bad, you should hear him snore."
"Ah, yes. Well, let me know if you require assistance with your—" He peered at Rodney's screen. "Important game of Freecell." He walked away, snickering softly to himself.
"I'll have you know my code is compiling!" yelled Rodney after him as he hastily brought up a project screen.
John showed up a while later and Rodney handed him the "Mostly Harmless" box of untested Ancient equipment. He proceeded to initialize what they guessed to be a laser-guided knife sharpener – "Ronon'll love that." – and a ball that changed colors and sounds every time it bounced. "Perfect for Torren."
Rodney caught John rubbing at his forehead several times. He finally asked, "Did you take your meds?"
"Yes," snapped John. "Keller warned me that this'd hurt for a while. Hey, at least this gets me out of paperwork duty and squinting at fine print."
"Like Lorne would let you anywhere near the requisitions document. The last time you were in charge of ordering, we got five crates of paperclips instead of laptops."
"Humph."
When John started whining about being bored, Rodney rolled his eyes and gave him a laptop to poke at, then had to reset John's password when he sheepishly admitted he'd let it lapse.
Hours passed. John asked Rodney if he wanted to go to lunch, but Rodney had just cracked an Ancient reference in the database that had been eluding him for weeks and waved him off. John shrugged and ambled away.
The next thing Rodney knew, a tray of food was being put down in front of him. It smelled heavenly. He looked up to see John's cheerful grin. "I figured that you probably would forget to eat until you were starving." John leaned in closer and with a glance around, quietly said, "Wanna indulge in a little afternoon delight?"
Rodney bolted his food and called out to Zelenka that he'd be back later. Zelenka muttered something under his breath and didn't even look up as he waved.
The afternoon was indeed delightful. Afterwards, John took a nap and a revitalized Rodney returned to his work.
This set the pattern for the next couple of days. John claimed that he slept better in Rodney's room than he ever had in his own; Rodney agreed that the regular sex might have had something to do with that.
However, John's headaches weren't getting any better. If anything, they seemed to be increasing in severity. In addition, he got tired more and more easily. John claimed that all his energy was being diverted into healing up and finding new and creative ways to fool around with Rodney. Rodney tried to nag him into seeing Keller again, but John blew him off, or rather, blew him, and the matter was dropped.
Finally, Rodney took matters into his own hands. He fixed up a medical scanner that had been sitting broken in his office for a while and tied it into Atlantis' systems, feeding it John's subcutaneous transponder code.
The machine returned with a null entry. Rodney tried it again and got the same result. Puzzled, he fed in his own ID and immediately got a ping and a warning note about his cholesterol. He called John on his earpiece. "Hey, are you hiding somewhere shielded?"
"No," came the reply. "Unless you've firewalled my room or something. Why?"
"Nothing," said Rodney and quickly signed off. He suddenly got a very bad feeling. Little things that he hadn't realized had been bugging him started to add up. John's memory, which seemed to have the oddest gaps in it. His theft of Rodney's laptop, ostensibly to check out Rodney's "bitchin' porn collection – hey, do I even want to know what's in the 'fliboiz' folder?" His reluctance to see Keller about his worsening headaches and fatigue. The odd subspace blips that Zelenka had just pointed out in the network logs that morning. He tried to tell himself that he was making a big deal out of nothing even as he rushed to his quarters to retrieve something.
His luck, such as it was, was with him: Keller was alone in the infirmary, poking at something on her computer as she absently munched on a sandwich. She jerked up guiltily at Rodney's approach.
"Oh, hey, Rodney." She looked down at her hand as if surprised to see the sandwich there. "Look, I know you hate for people to eat around the equipment, but I promise that this was a one-time thing, honest! I was being careful, and --"
"Fine, whatever." Rodney thought with bitter irony about something that previously would have sent him into a tirade now barely even registered. "Listen, can I talk to you about a potential issue? Private, patient-doctor confidentiality and all that."
"Sure." Keller dusted her hands off over the garbage can and led him to her desk. "What's up?"
Rodney fished a small plastic bag out of his pocket and slid it to her. "Can you run a genetic test on this?"
Keller glanced inside and recoiled. "Is that what I think it is?"
Rodney sighed. "Yes, it's a condom full of ejaculate. Yes, it's John's – Sheppard's. No, I don't want to talk about it. Just test it, please!"
"OK, keep your pants on." Keller realized what she'd said and blushed. "Er, sorry."
She prepared a slide with the material and inserted it into one of the Ancient medical analysis slots. "What precisely am I looking for, here?"
Rodney took a deep breath. "Traces of Michael's cloning technology, like what showed up in Carson's tests."
Keller whirled around. "What? You can't be serious!"
"Listen, believe me, I hope that I'm wrong. I would give anything to be the wrongest of the wrong here." Rodney paced. "I just can't afford to ignore this."
"Let me see what I can find out."
It was the longest five minutes that Rodney had ever experienced. When the truth popped up "MATCH CONFIRMED" in glowing red letters, he took a moment to silently castigate himself for believing even for a minute that he would have a chance with John Sheppard. He sent a coded command under the tightest of security to set up quarantines around John's access, then jogged off to gather up the troops. He couldn't trust that the clone hadn't tapped into the system.
With Teyla, Ronon, Lorne, and a full squadron posted at strategic locations along the corridor, Rodney triggered the door chimes to John's quarters.
In the grandest of soap opera traditions: TO BE CONTINUED...
Author:
grammarwomanFandom: Stargate: Atlantis, spoilers up to 5X07 "Whispers".
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 7800
Author's notes: For
undermistletoe's prompt "Day 11 - Soap Opera Tropes (Someone's got an evil twin, falls down an elevator shaft, switches a paternity test, etc.)". Many thanks to svmadelyn for hosting this year's challenge. I took a loose interpretation of evil twin and twisted it into cloning. Hey, it's canon for the show, right? Many apologies for being a dirty, dirty tease and leaving it on a cliffhanger. The rest should be up tomorrow. After all, it's par for the course for a soap opera.Summary: The best-laid schemes o' Michael an' men turn into the best-laid times for Rodney.
Send in the Clone
In a small lab in the heart of a secret base somewhere in the Pegasus galaxy, organic vents hissed gusts of steam and strange veins of lights flashed. Michael’s fingers flickered over a computer screen and stopped on a blinking element.
“Excellent,” he intoned. He turned to one of his hybrids standing behind him. “The subject is ready.”
The minion stared at him with dulled interest.
Michael rolled his eyes and then inwardly cursed. He kept finding and having to root out those human mannerisms that had crept into his automatic responses: yet another sin for which the humans of Atlantis had to answer. “Cut him out, you idiot.”
The minion nodded and drew his blade. He slowly slit the membrane of the wall next to him, revealing an upright shape covered in a viscous substance.
Michael hissed impatiently, “Give me that! Were you this stupid before I made you a superior creature? Do I have to do everything around here myself?” He grabbed the knife and swiftly finished the cut, then reached behind the figure to sever the tendons that bound it to the walls of the development cocoon. When the shape slumped forward, he caught it around the middle.
“If you’re not too busy…” he snarled over his shoulder.
The minion blinked at him. Michael resisted the urge to drive the man’s own blade into his heart. “Come over here and help me get him out!”
Between the two of them, they wrestled the body to an inclined gurney and strapped it down. Michael scraped embryonic goo off the subject's face and attached a lead from the computer to its forehead. He scanned the results on the screen.
"Memory appears mostly intact - excellent. There should be no problem imprinting my created situations and controlling his recall abilities." He tapped on the screen. The lead stretching to the subject's head lit up and its body jerked slightly. Michael snapped at his minion, "Hold him steady!"
The transfer continued for a while as Michael monitored the brain activity. Eventually, the computer chimed its completion.
"Now to see how well I have wrought!" Michael triggered a single jolt down the tether, then another. The subject gasped and opened wide hazel eyes.
Michael loomed over the subject. "What is your name?"
The man blinked rapidly as his mouth worked to shape a word.
"What is your name?" Michael insisted.
"J-ohn." His voice cracked as he spoke. The man coughed and tried again. "John Sheppard."
"Good. And to whom do you owe your loyalty?"
The man's face drew up in concentration. "You," he offered after a moment's thought.
Michael smiled. "Very good. Our work can begin."
"Again. Tell me about your co-workers."
John sighed. "Teyla – Pegasus native, just had a baby, can kick anyone's ass, paired with Kanaan, has Wraith genes and some abilities, and you've got a serious jones for her."
Michael growled. "I do not appreciate the personal commentary. Continue -- carefully."
"Ronon – Pegasus native, former Runner, can also kick anyone's ass, hates you guys, loyal to me and the team and iffy about everyone else."
Michael nodded.
"Woolsey – Earth native, current civilian commander, total stuffed shirt, likes protocol and rules, useless in field ops."
"He seems to irritate you. I suppose you miss having a military commander since Colonel Carter was prematurely removed from her post?"
John shrugged. "Change in command happens. You deal or you get changed, too, and usually to a much crappier post."
"I see. Continue."
"McKay..." John stopped and bit his lip, lost in thought.
"Come now, John, surely you remember the infamous Rodney McKay."
"I do, but – " John looked torn. "I keep getting flashes of him, you know." He gulped. "Um, naked. But I thought...My military has rules against that sort of thing." He frowned. "I wish I could remember it all better."
"Interesting." Michael paced around the room. "It would explain a lot if you two were intimately involved. Otherwise, regardless of his intelligence, I can't see how you would have put up with him for so long. I certainly would have shot him for his insubordinate behavior." He turned to John. "Yes, this will be our key to the city. You will continue with this relationship, keeping it discreet, and having gained McKay's trust, you will pass on the necessary information to me. This should more than make up for the irregularities in your memory retrieval of Atlantis' security protocols."
John shifted in his chair. "Huh. That works. McKay – Earth native, genius, head of science, works best under pressure, target of infiltration." He swallowed. "Boyfriend. Check."
"Good. Proceed."
"Lorne – Earth native, second in command, whiz with paperwork…"
At the head of the conference table, Woolsey tapped together a sheaf of papers and placed them in a folder. "Now for the next item on our agenda... Colonel Sheppard, your team is due to depart shortly for M5K-382?"
Sheppard nodded. "Yeah, we got some intel that Michael might have an presence on that planet. We figured that we'd check it out, see if we can get any leads."
"And by we, he means him. I still say that this is not a good idea," McKay interjected. "Every time we mess with Michael's projects, it seems like we wind up doing more harm than good. I mean, how many more buildings do we have to have fall on us, or have our personnel sprout Hive ships, or provoke freaking zombies into chasing us, before we approach incidents like this with a little more planning and prudence?"
"Relax, McKay. As I recall, the zombies weren't chasing you. Besides, we're taking a Jumper, we'll go in cloaked, it'll be fine." Sheppard rocked back in his chair as he waved off McKay's concerns.
McKay scoffed, "I would like to go on record as reserving the right to say 'I told you so' when this all goes horribly wrong."
"If we scrapped missions every time you got nervous, we'd never leave Atlantis," rumbled Ronon.
Teyla leaned forward to ask, "Rodney, what precautions would make you feel better about this plan?"
"You mean aside from a battalion of Marines and the Daedalus as backup?" answered McKay. Sheppard and Ronon rolled their eyes in unison. "Fine. We'll take a Jumper, go poke around in Michael's stuff, the planet's core will suddenly develop a chain reaction and explode, and we'll see how relaxing it is to be charred corpses in space."
"And on that note, I wish you all good hunting. I expect a check-in every two hours." Woolsey stood up and nodded at them. "Good day."
The rest of the team got to their feet and straggled out of the conference room.
Teyla waved at the team. "I will join you shortly. I wish to say goodbye to Torren and Kanaan before our departure."
Ronon nodded as he headed off to his own quarters. "Meet you in the locker room."
Sheppard grabbed McKay before he could go charging off. "Rodney, hang on. Are you really that worried about this op? I can still call it off if you honestly think it isn't worth it."
McKay sighed. "Great, now you're being all reasonable." He frowned as he continued, "I know we need to chase down Michael before we're left scrambling to recover after another one of his Evil Overload schemes. I just have a bad feeling about this."
Sheppard grinned as he clapped McKay on the shoulder. "Do I have to take a drink now?"
McKay tried to hide his smirk and failed. "Oh, sure, life on Atlantis conducted according to the Star Wars drinking game rules. Brilliant plan. We'd be unconscious in no time, even if we weren't using Ruus wine."
His head jerked up as his earpiece squawked. His eyebrows lifted in irritation as he tapped it. "Go ahead, Zelenka." He looked at Sheppard and mouthed "Later" as he turned to charge down the hallway. "This had better be quick. I've got an imminent date with destiny." He paused, and Sheppard could faintly hear as McKay zoomed out of sight, "Ha ha, fine, rib me about my lack of social life. I bet I've had an actual romantic encounter more recently than you have!"
Sheppard raised his hand to wave goodbye at McKay's retreating back. "I bet you have, buddy. God knows it's been forever for me." He shook his head and headed to the nearest supply room. When it came to potential run-ins with Michael, there was no such thing as too much C4.
"Why does it always have to be trees?" complained Rodney as the team loaded up their gear in the back of the Jumper. The cloaked survey of the planet had turned up nothing in the way of settlements or Ancient outposts, just miles of woods and a blip on Rodney's screen. "The faint power signature can't just be laying around in the middle of an open field where we can actually scope it out from the air. No, it has to be right in the center of a huge forest, unreachable except by hours and hours of unrelenting walking."
"Quit your bitching, McKay. Geez." Sheppard checked his vest, then went over Rodney's out of habit.
Rodney barely acknowledged the fussing as he scanned his datapad. "Right. No human or Wraith life signs, a power source of indeterminate origin, and us. Let's hope it stays that way."
Once the team exited the Jumper, Sheppard closed it up and stuck the remote in a vest pocket. The group fell into their accustomed positions and set off into the trees. Rodney called out corrections to their course as they moved towards the target. The team kept quiet, listening for signs of trouble and looking for clues to the source of the blip.
They had been walking for a while when Teyla gasped. "Wait," she said and looked back towards the direction of the Stargate. Suddenly, the team could hear the distinctive whine of multiple Wraith darts.
"Crap!" shouted Sheppard. "Fall back to the Jumper!"
Rodney did his best to keep Sheppard in his sights as he frantically ran back through the trees. He could hear the rattling of bullets from Teyla's P-90 and the blasts from Ronon's gun somewhere off to the side of them, fading quickly as they outdistanced him. "Relax, McKay. Everything will be fine, McKay," he panted to himself. He dodged around a large boulder, but when he looked ahead for Sheppard, the man had vanished from sight. "Dammit!" Rodney whipped out his life signs detector but fumbled it as he ran. It skipped across several stones before it slammed face down. "Great!" He snatched it up, only to find it dead. "Just swell." He tapped on his earpiece. "Sheppard! Come in!" There was no response. "Teyla! Ronon! I've lost sight of Sheppard, he isn't answering his comms, and my damned detector is broken!"
"Rodney! Stay where you are, and we'll circle back to help you look!" Rodney heard the sound of darts behind Teyla's voice. He ducked for cover when a pair of silvery beams passed uncomfortably close to him. "Great! I'll be here, trying not get harvested!"
When the beams and the screaming of the overhead ships faded, Rodney ventured out from behind the boulder. He could hear a loud crunching coming from several yards away, like someone walking through the underbrush. "Sheppard? You there?" He tucked away the useless detector and readied his P-90.
Rodney carefully picked his way across the uneven ground and still almost fell over a small ridge. He flailed to regain his balance, then he caught a glimpse of something white and immediately flattened himself against the top of the overhang. Almost fifteen feet below him, Sheppard's body laid motionless on the ground, his shirt ripped open as a Wraith grunt reared back with his feeding hand aloft.
"Son of a bitch!" Rodney raised his weapon and unloaded a full clip into the Wraith. It had started rising to its feet and turning at the sound of his voice; the force of the bullets toppled it over onto its back. It twitched a few times before it collapsed.
"Sheppard!" Ronon's voice blared through the radio link.
"I found him!" Rodney shouted. "He's down, and the Wraith about to feed on him is toast. I'm going to check on them."
"Rodney, be careful!" warned Teyla. "We should be there shortly."
Rodney grumbled about barn doors and horses as he slid down the ridge. He slapped in a new clip and cautiously advanced on the Wraith. He nudged it with his boot, but it stayed dead. He heard a noise from behind him and whipped around, instinctively raising his weapon. Sheppard groaned again and put a hand to his head. "Who put that hill there?"
"Sheppard! Are you OK?" Rodney crouched down beside him and did a quick visual inventory. Aside from a few cuts and scrapes, a torn shirt, and a nasty-looking gash on his head, Sheppard appeared to be intact.
"Aside from my head feeling like a cracked watermelon, yeah." Sheppard levered himself up onto his elbows, noticed his opened shirt and the Wraith. "Looks like you got here in the nick of time. Thanks." He tried to sit up all the way, but sank back down with another moan.
"Take it easy. Ronon and Teyla will be here soon, and we'll get you back to the Jumper." Rodney started patting down his vest pockets, looking for his first aid supplies. "Where's your tac vest?"
Sheppard blinked at him. "I...don't know. I guess he took it off me, first?"
"Right. Here," replied Rodney, pulling out antiseptic wipes and bandages. By the time Ronon and Teyla arrived a couple of minutes later, Rodney had a tidy dressing on Sheppard's head wound.
"What happened, John?" inquired Teyla, scanning the woods around them for any other enemies.
"A culling beam went flashing by, and I didn't see the cliff in front of me until I was falling down it head first. Things got a little fuzzy after that." He tried sitting up again; this time, he succeeded.
"Screw the intel - let's go home." Ronon threaded an arm around Sheppard's shoulders and carefully pulled him to his feet. "Can you walk?"
Sheppard shook his head and looked like he was about to hurl. "Sure, if I could tell which of the two of everything was the real one."
"Right." Ronon snaked a hand around Sheppard's waist and brought Sheppard's arm across his shoulders.
"Ow!" yelped Sheppard. "I think I wrenched my shoulder when I fell. Sorry, dude, but you're too tall for this to be comfortable. Rodney, get over here."
Rodney was startled at the request, but sprang into action. He gently repeated the support positioning as Ronon stepped back.
"Thanks, buddy. That's better." Sheppard nodded ahead of them. "Somebody lead the way back. I'm all turned around."
Teyla concentrated. "I can no longer sense any Wraith presence on the planet. I would guess that the Wraith retreated when they heard our gunfire. Still, I will take point, and Ronon, you cover our six."
Ronon gave her a nod, and the team set off. They arrived back at the Jumper without any further encounters and waited expectantly for Sheppard to open it up. He looked back at them. "What?"
"Oh, right, you lost your vest. Good thing I brought a spare." Rodney awkwardly fumbled at his pockets for the remote while trying not to dump Sheppard on his ass.
Once they got inside, Sheppard settled gingerly into the passenger seat. "Rodney, take us home, and try to fly straight this time. Any loop-de-loops and I'll be barf-de-barfing in your lap."
"Right, because I'm the one given to daredevil flying," snapped McKay, as he ran through the flight prep sequence. He noted with quiet relief that his extra hours of practice were finally paying off as he guided the ship swiftly and directly back to the Gate and through to Atlantis. Even Ronon didn't crack any remarks, and Teyla gifted him with a wide grin as they settled down in the Jumper bay. "You performed admirably today, Rodney. You should be proud."
"Yeah, nice job, McKay." Ronon clapped him on the shoulder and followed Teyla out of the ship.
Having been alerted to their return and Sheppard's condition, Keller bustled into the Jumper with her med kit. "What's this? What amazing feat of technology did you pull off this time?" She ran a scanner over Sheppard's head.
"He saved my life," said Sheppard, and turned thoughtfully to Rodney, who realized that he had frozen in the midst of gathering up his equipment, unsure how to respond to the praise. Flustered, Rodney waved off the remark. "It's what we do, right? Take turns saving each other from certain death."
"Rodney." Sheppard's voice cut through Rodney's bluster. "Thank you." He smiled, that slow, honest smile that never failed to warm Rodney in places that he tried not to notice.
"You're welcome." Rodney found himself grinning back.
"Sorry to break up this tender moment, gentlemen, but the Colonel here has a date with a bed in the infirmary so I can patch this up. It looks like you got very lucky - it's only a mild concussion. Let's get you out of that seat and on your way." Keller reached out to give Sheppard a hand, but Rodney leaped in before she could finish.
"No, wait, I got him." He pulled Sheppard to his feet. "You OK yet with the walking?"
Sheppard took a tentative step. "Maybe. Stick around in case my navigational controls cut out on me again."
"Sure thing." Rodney tried to stifle his grin and poised himself right behind Sheppard's careful walk, ready to lend a steadying hand.
When they got to the infirmary, Keller waved Sheppard up onto a bed. Rodney found himself reluctant to leave; he justified to himself his lingering presence as a friend's duty to an injured teammate. He sat down in a chair that was out of the way. As Keller finished cleaning and stitching the gash on Sheppard's forehead, a familiar routine during which Rodney found himself zoning out, she said, "That should take care of it. You don't have any breaks or bad sprains, but you'll probably be sore from that tumble you took. I'd like for you to stay here overnight for observation. It may be only a mild concussion, but I'd feel better keeping an eye on you."
"Doctor Keller," whined Sheppard. "I really just want to go take a shower and sleep in an actual bed tonight."
"Fine...as long as you can find someone willing to check on you every couple of hours until tomorrow morning." She looked at him with an amused grin.
"McKay."
Rodney, distracted at the thought of the long list of projects waiting for him back in the lab, startled back to awareness. "Hm?"
"Tell you what -- I'll be a captive audience to your promised 'I told you so' every two hours, if you'll keep me company tonight," drawled Sheppard.
Keller shook her head as she removed her gloves and chucked them into a wastebasket. "Odd sort of alarm clock, but as long as he's willing..."
Rodney gaped at Sheppard for a moment before he recovered. "Fine! I mean, sure. I mean, that's quite the generous offer, but I hardly think that sleeping on the floor in your room is going to be good for my back. I'm sure Doctor Keller doesn't want to trade one injured patient for another."
Sheppard sighed. "OK, we'll go back to your room, and I'll sleep on the couch, and you can have your precious prescription mattress. Will that work for you?"
Outflanked, Rodney stammered out his agreement.
Keller stepped up and pressed a bottle into Rodney's hand. "Easy on the painkillers, and no giving him anything stronger out of the supply I know you've got stashed away but won't admit to." As Rodney opened his mouth to refute the charges, she raised a hand. "It's OK, Rodney; I won't tell. Just make sure to wake him every couple of hours and check out his mental processes. I'm sure you know the drill by now." They all snorted in cynical amusement. "Colonel, I want you back in here tomorrow morning and on limited duties for the next week. Understand?"
Sheppard slid off the bed and sketched a sloppy salute. "Aye aye, sir. C'mon, Rodney, let's blow this joint."
He strolled out of the infirmary with a pale imitation of his usual swagger. When they reached the corridor, he stopped. "What?" asked Rodney, anxious that Sheppard had changed his mind and was pondering a more suitable nursemaid for the evening.
"I was just thinking that we should stop by my quarters and pick up a change of clothes." Sheppard scratched the back of his neck as he looked down one way, then the other.
"Oh! Yeah, good idea." Rodney waited for Sheppard to start walking. When Sheppard stayed put, an uncertain look creeping onto his face, Rodney found his relief at not being replaced turning to irritation. "Colonel! You can't possibly have forgotten the way to your quarters!"
"Hey!" Sheppard protested. "Cut me some slack -- concussion, remember?"
"You and your 'creative' sense of direction – how did you every make it back to base as a pilot, Sheppard?" Rodney shook his head and gestured down the hallway. "This way, if you please."
Sheppard gave him an ironic bow. "You're so kind."
When they reached the door to Sheppard's room, he stopped again.
"Trust me – this is your room." Rodney pointed at the entrance crystals.
"I know! I was just – look, can you wait out here? I haven't cleaned up the place in a while; I wasn't expecting visitors."
Rodney goggled at him. "You can't be serious! I've seen your room. If Keller ever needed an additional sterile operating suite, she could come here."
"Rodney!" Sheppard snapped. "Give me a minute, OK?"
"Whatever." Rodney turned to face the corridor. "I won't even peek."
"Thanks." Sheppard disappeared into the room. He emerged several minutes later, toting a small duffel.
"About time – I was beginning to worry that I'd have to send in a search party!"
"Sorry that I'm moving a little slower today." Sheppard grinned wryly. "Ready?"
Rodney sighed. "Lemme guess: you don't remember how to get to my room, either?"
He couldn't be sure, but it seemed like the faintest blush crept over Sheppard's cheeks. He suddenly felt like a jerk. "Never mind. Follow me."
Once they reached Rodney's room, McKay stripped off his vest and boots with a weary sigh. "Before you can volunteer me into another act of kindness, I will magnanimously offer you the first shower. I've rigged it so this room will never run out of hot water, so take as long as you need. Just not too long."
Sheppard rolled his head around and tried to stretch his shoulders. "Well, in that case, I was hoping that you'd let me take a swim in your deluxe tub. I think a full immersion would work wonders on my muscles. I think I've got more bruises than skin at this point."
Sheppard seemed determined to keep Rodney off guard, but he rose valiantly to the challenge of keeping up a sarcastic front. "Would you care for the freesia bubble bath while you're at it, your Highness? Or perhaps some port and a cigar?"
Sheppard perked up. "Why - do you have any?"
"No, Colonel. Sorry." Rodney twirled the dials and the tub began to fill up with steaming water.
"Oh." Sheppard sighed with disappointment. "Tell you what, there's one big favor you could do for me. I can't raise my arms above my head without twinging, so could you help me take off my shirt?"
Rodney had to stop and perform a hasty mental reality check; Sheppard's request came uncannily close to one of his favorite fantasies about the Colonel. He realized he had taken too long to reply when Sheppard drawled, "Atlantis to McKay. Come in, Rodney."
His mouth answered without his consent, "I was pondering if we shouldn't just cut it off of you," a thought at which Rodney's cock gave an interested twitch, "seeing as it's already ripped."
"Nah, I can still use it. I don't have that many shirts to spare. C'mon, help me out here." Sheppard set his hands on the waistband of the shirt and started to lift it up.
Rodney gave a stern warning to those parts of his body that responded with excitement to the enticing image of Sheppard's hairy stomach emerging from under the shirt. "Stop before you sprain something further." He brusquely grabbed the hem out of Sheppard's hands and eased it over his head, pulling it forward and down to avoid raising Sheppard's arms.
"Mmm, thanks," purred Sheppard. Then, to Rodney's utter shock, Sheppard stroked his hands down Rodney's back and pulled him in close. "I was wondering if I was going to have to start begging."
Rodney's brain momentarily went offline and he froze in shock. "What...What...Sheppard!"
"We're alone now, you know. You can call me John." Sheppard leaned into the angle of Rodney's shoulder and ran his lips under his ear. "I'm almost tempted to skip the bath - you smell good." His voice dropped so low on the last word that Rodney felt it as a rumble on his skin.
Rodney battled to stay upright when his knees threatened to buckle under him. "Sheppard, stop!"
"Relax, Rodney. I'm sure Keller won't mind a little light...activity." The bastard had the gall to actually waggle his eyebrows at the insinuation. "I'll even sit back and let you do all the work." Then Sheppard's -- John's -- Sheppard's (Rodney's brain, struggling to piece together coherent thoughts, vacillated between the two) hands slid under Rodney's waistband and dipped downwards to cup his ass. As John ground himself against Rodney, Rodney couldn't help but notice that John was very happy to be there.
"But...John...that's disgusting!" John leaned back, hurt. "I mean, I'm disgusting! I need to get cleaned up or I may die from filth overload."
John smiled again. "Perfect. You wash my back, and I'll wash yours. Maybe some other parts, too."
Rodney made one last valiant effort at self-control. "Sheppard --" John raised a warning eyebrow. "Fine, John, maybe I don't want to take advantage of you in your brain-damaged condition!"
John looked at him increduously. "You think I need a head injury to want to get close to you? Where's that infamous McKay pride?"
"Evidently the same place where you left your natural reserve and six-foot personal space bubble!"
John laughed. "Aw, Rodney, I let you in all the time."
Memories flashed through Rodney's head, of various shoulder claps and bumps, vest tuggings, all sorts of contact that, now that he considered them, seemed reserved for him alone. He gave up and went with his urges to lean in, brushing his lips across John's grin. He tilted back to check for John's reaction.
"Oh no you don't!" John reached up to grab the back of Rodney's head and zoomed in for a lingering kiss, sweeping his closed lips against Rodney's again and again. "Let me in, Rodney," he murmured, and swiped his tongue against Rodney's bottom lip, a quick darting lick.
Rodney let loose the last of his inhibitions and opened his mouth, allowing John to plunge his tongue in to tangle with his. The kiss went on and on, until Rodney was practically dizzy from a lack of air. "Bath," he gasped. "Sit."
"Having trouble with the words, there?"
Rodney growled and backed John up against the edge of the tub. "Shut. Up." He distracted John with another wet, dirty kiss, as he quickly unfastened his pants and shoved them down along with his underwear to let his cock spring free. He did the same to John. At the first touch of their cocks against each other, John let out a moan. "Bath," he panted. "Now."
Rodney grabbed John's ass and rubbed his cock against the crease of John's hip. The sensation felt better than anything he'd ever let himself imagine.
"Rodney!" John grabbed at him, overbalanced.
"Sorry." He pulled John back to his feet, then knelt to yank down John's pants and boxers, where they pooled against his ankles. He got distracted by John's cock bobbing right in his face, so he stole a quick taste. At the touch of Rodney's mouth, John groaned and clutched at Rodney's shoulders.
Somewhere in Rodney's logical processes, a warning bell was going off. When he stopped to pay attention to it, it pointed out that John still had his socks and boots on, which would get in the way if they ever made it all the way into the bathtub. "Right," said Rodney. "Sit."
John blinked at him. Rodney pointed to the offending articles. "Oh, yeah." John sat down on the edge of the tub. Rodney struggled with the laces and finally removed the obstacles, revealing John's bony, hairy feet. He quickly dragged John's remaining clothes off, catching the bottoms of John's feet with his fingers. John twitched. "Ticklish!" he complained.
Rodney made a mental note for later. He then stood up and stripped as fast as possible. He looked up to find John gazing wide-eyed at him. "What?" he questioned defensively. "We can't all be lanky GQ models!"
"Rodney," John breathed. "You look..." He trailed off, and licked his lips. "Good."
Rodney checked his first impulse, which was to tackle John into the tub. Instead, he stepped into the middle of the water, wincing a bit at the elevated temperature. He held out a hand to John. "Swing around -- there's a bench right here."
John took his hand and eased himself onto the seat. He hissed as he sank into the hot water up to his shoulders. "Oh, God, that feels good." His head dropped back with a 'thunk' on the edge.
"Sit up a bit," instructed Rodney, and swung in behind him. He ran his fingertips over John's shoulders, looking for the worst of the knots. "Back in the day, I used to give a mean backrub." His thumbs found a nasty snarl of muscle and leaned in. "How does this feel?" he murmured into John's ear.
"If this is your -- ohh -- mean backrub, I think your polite one would kill me." John sighed in appreciation as Rodney worked. The noises John made revived Rodney's erection, which had wilted at first contact with the heat. When he could feel John's muscles smooth like putty under his hands, he leaned in to nibble on John's neck and run his tongue along the shell of John's elfin ear.
"All better?" he asked.
"Come here," John said. "I want your mouth."
More fluidly than he could have ever imagined himself doing, especially after the day he'd had, Rodney glided around to straddle John's lap and bent for another deep kiss. John's hands roamed over Rodney's skin, mapping out previously unknown erogenous zones.
Lost in a haze of sensations, Rodney ground down against John, who bucked up to meet him. Any opinion Rodney had held up to that point about time and relativity got tossed out the window. In what could have been forever or only a minute later, he found himself hissing in pleasure and coming like his bones were melting. He braced himself against John. A few thrusts later, John ground his fingers into Rodney's hipbones and stifled a shout as he came.
When Rodney was able to take any notice of his surroundings, he realized that he was slumped over John. John didn't seem to mind, as he was pressing soft kisses to Rodney's shoulders and skimming his hands over Rodney's back.
"That was…" managed Rodney.
"Yeah." agreed John.
Their eyes met in amused wonder. Rodney started chuckling. John chimed in with his braying laugh.
They eventually recovered and split apart, Rodney sliding onto the bench next to John. John trailed his hands over his stomach, rinsing the come off his abs. "Sex in the tub certainly makes clean-up a breeze."
Rodney looked down at himself. "You have a point, but still…Let me get the soap."
Their energy lasted just long enough to quickly but thoroughly scrub each other, towel off, and collapse into bed. John poked Rodney in the middle of a jaw-cracking yawn. "Don't forget the alarm."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Believe me, I am even more invested in your health now than I was before. I'm on it."
Rodney's internal time-sense jolted him awake, and he blinked at the clock. It was just a few minutes shy of the alarm's set point, so he switched it off and dialed the bedside lamp to low. John didn't even stir at Rodney's movements. Rodney was struck with an evil idea.
It only took a couple of strokes of Rodney's tongue along the soles of John's feet for him to wake up with a protesting shriek. "Hey!"
Rodney nibbled on John's big toe. "What?"
John yanked his feet out of reach. "Those are off-limits!"
"Really." Rodney trailed his fingertips up John's calves to his inner thighs, dipped his knuckles to run across his perineum, and then softly stroked the underside of John's cock. It hardened even as he watched. "What about here?"
John's eyes glittered in the low light of the room. "I suppose I could grant you a full-access pass there, but I'll have to verify your security clearance."
"Hmm," said Rodney. "Let me see." He bent his head and took John's cock into his mouth, one slow inch at a time. He looked up. "Hmm?" he asked, his mouth still full.
"Nnnggghh," replied John.
Rodney pulled off. "I'm sorry, was that a yes or a no?"
"Yes, dammit!"
"Good." Rodney gripped John's cock and began to idly pull up and down. "Hey, wasn't I supposed to test your mental faculties right about now? Let's start with an easy one: what's your favorite carnival ride?"
John watched the head of his cock slip in and out of Rodney's grip. "Ferris wheels."
"Correct! Now, name the last three leaders of Atlantis."
John glared at Rodney, who smirked back at him. "I'm sorry, was the question too difficult?"
"Dr. Elizabeth Weir, Colonel Samantha Carter, and Richard WoolSEY!" John gasped as Rodney sucked his cock back into his mouth on the last syllable. "Great! Now I'm going to have really inappropriate associations with his name!"
Rodney let go long enough to say, "Oh, don't mind me. Last question: what are my PhDs in?" He then renewed his attention to John's cock, this time using both his mouth and hands.
John threw back his head. "I've got about two brain cells left, and they're busy trying to make this last more than thirty seconds!"
"Now that sounds like a challenge." Rodney devoted his full concentration to John, who was soon panting and gasping.
John started to tense up and tried to pull himself out of Rodney's mouth. "Rodney, I'm gonna –"
Rodney didn't relinquish his grasp; instead, he growled and anchored John's hips with both hands as he swallowed him down, savoring every pulse.
"If you're gonna wake me up like this every time, I'm not going to make it to the morning!" John reached out an arm to idly scritch Rodney's head, pillowed as it was on John's thigh. Rodney lifted up his head into the caress.
"You really are a cat person," said John. "How would you like a nice tummy rub?"
Soon Rodney found himself flat on his back while John gave him a briskly efficient hand job. John apologized, "Sorry, but I don't think bobbing my head up and down right now would be the best idea."
"S'allright," slurred Rodney. John was soon rewarded by a stripy mess across his knuckles. He licked it off as Rodney watched avidly.
"God, you're like the best porn ever!" Rodney wished he could take the words back as soon as they left his lips, but John just smiled and bent to kiss him. Somehow, the taste of himself in John's mouth was even better than expensive coffee. However, it did not have the same rejuvenating effects as caffeine, and Rodney barely remembered to reset the alarm before rolling over and burying his nose in the nape of John's neck.
Rodney actually slept all the way to the blaring of the alarm. He looked around blearily for John, who turned out to be in the doorway of the bathroom. "Sorry. I had some personal business to attend to." He slipped back into the bed and curled back up next to Rodney. "What's my next test, professor?"
"What? Oh, right. Um…" Rodney thought for a bit. "What's my sister's name?"
"Jeannie Miller. And your niece is Madison and her dad is Kaleb."
"Very good. Who's the guy on the poster in your room?"
"Johnny Cash."
"Cool." He yawned. "Look, I hate to break our lucky streak, but I couldn't get it up again with a crane, and I am really beat. Mind if we just snooze some more?"
"Sure. G'night, Rodney."
"Good night, John boy." That earned him a whack from the pillow and an irritated grumble from John. He smiled as he drifted back to sleep.
When Rodney woke next, it was to light streaming through his window and John getting dressed. Rodney was disappointed: so much for morning sex.
John crouched down beside the bed. "I thought we'd go to breakfast and then after I see Keller, maybe I could hang out with you in the lab, a little of the old lightbulb duty?"
"Sure, sounds good." Rodney tried not to sulk, but as usual, his complete lack of a poker face failed him.
John cocked his head. "Hey, what's up?"
Rodney turned away. "Nothing."
"Rodney – look, I don't mean to resort to clichés, here, but my head is pounding and I just want to get something to eat so I can take my next round of painkillers. Believe me, if it weren't for that, we wouldn't be getting out of this bed until sometime next week."
"Really?"
John gave him a thorough kiss. He'd evidently brushed his teeth. "Really. Now let's get going and see if today's waffle day."
Rodney threw back the covers. "Oh, man, I love waffle day."
It was the first breakfast in a long time that Rodney started with a good mood before his first sip of coffee, even though it turned out to not be waffle day. He poked at his runny eggs, slurped down his coffee, and tried not to gaze at John like a moonstruck calf.
John seemed to be having better luck hiding his feelings, or else his headache was even worse than he had said. He slipped Rodney an occasional knowing grin and a lecherous raised eyebrow as they traded brief remarks over their food.
After breakfast, they strolled together to the infirmary. John gave Rodney an affectionate shove at the door. "Thanks for walking me to the bus stop, Mom, but I think I can take it from here."
"Play nice with the other kids!" Rodney suppressed a jaunty wave and left.
He had a hard time concentrating in his lab; lurid clips from the previous night kept playing in his head. Zelenka had to snap his fingers in front of Rodney's face to get his attention.
"McKay! I have been calling your name many times now. Is there something the matter?"
"No! I'm just a little tired." He realized that a little misdirection would go a long way towards offsetting the rumors that were probably already making the rounds, and settled on a half-truth. "Sheppard had me acting as his concussion-clock last night, and I hardly got any sleep. If you thought his laugh was bad, you should hear him snore."
"Ah, yes. Well, let me know if you require assistance with your—" He peered at Rodney's screen. "Important game of Freecell." He walked away, snickering softly to himself.
"I'll have you know my code is compiling!" yelled Rodney after him as he hastily brought up a project screen.
John showed up a while later and Rodney handed him the "Mostly Harmless" box of untested Ancient equipment. He proceeded to initialize what they guessed to be a laser-guided knife sharpener – "Ronon'll love that." – and a ball that changed colors and sounds every time it bounced. "Perfect for Torren."
Rodney caught John rubbing at his forehead several times. He finally asked, "Did you take your meds?"
"Yes," snapped John. "Keller warned me that this'd hurt for a while. Hey, at least this gets me out of paperwork duty and squinting at fine print."
"Like Lorne would let you anywhere near the requisitions document. The last time you were in charge of ordering, we got five crates of paperclips instead of laptops."
"Humph."
When John started whining about being bored, Rodney rolled his eyes and gave him a laptop to poke at, then had to reset John's password when he sheepishly admitted he'd let it lapse.
Hours passed. John asked Rodney if he wanted to go to lunch, but Rodney had just cracked an Ancient reference in the database that had been eluding him for weeks and waved him off. John shrugged and ambled away.
The next thing Rodney knew, a tray of food was being put down in front of him. It smelled heavenly. He looked up to see John's cheerful grin. "I figured that you probably would forget to eat until you were starving." John leaned in closer and with a glance around, quietly said, "Wanna indulge in a little afternoon delight?"
Rodney bolted his food and called out to Zelenka that he'd be back later. Zelenka muttered something under his breath and didn't even look up as he waved.
The afternoon was indeed delightful. Afterwards, John took a nap and a revitalized Rodney returned to his work.
This set the pattern for the next couple of days. John claimed that he slept better in Rodney's room than he ever had in his own; Rodney agreed that the regular sex might have had something to do with that.
However, John's headaches weren't getting any better. If anything, they seemed to be increasing in severity. In addition, he got tired more and more easily. John claimed that all his energy was being diverted into healing up and finding new and creative ways to fool around with Rodney. Rodney tried to nag him into seeing Keller again, but John blew him off, or rather, blew him, and the matter was dropped.
Finally, Rodney took matters into his own hands. He fixed up a medical scanner that had been sitting broken in his office for a while and tied it into Atlantis' systems, feeding it John's subcutaneous transponder code.
The machine returned with a null entry. Rodney tried it again and got the same result. Puzzled, he fed in his own ID and immediately got a ping and a warning note about his cholesterol. He called John on his earpiece. "Hey, are you hiding somewhere shielded?"
"No," came the reply. "Unless you've firewalled my room or something. Why?"
"Nothing," said Rodney and quickly signed off. He suddenly got a very bad feeling. Little things that he hadn't realized had been bugging him started to add up. John's memory, which seemed to have the oddest gaps in it. His theft of Rodney's laptop, ostensibly to check out Rodney's "bitchin' porn collection – hey, do I even want to know what's in the 'fliboiz' folder?" His reluctance to see Keller about his worsening headaches and fatigue. The odd subspace blips that Zelenka had just pointed out in the network logs that morning. He tried to tell himself that he was making a big deal out of nothing even as he rushed to his quarters to retrieve something.
His luck, such as it was, was with him: Keller was alone in the infirmary, poking at something on her computer as she absently munched on a sandwich. She jerked up guiltily at Rodney's approach.
"Oh, hey, Rodney." She looked down at her hand as if surprised to see the sandwich there. "Look, I know you hate for people to eat around the equipment, but I promise that this was a one-time thing, honest! I was being careful, and --"
"Fine, whatever." Rodney thought with bitter irony about something that previously would have sent him into a tirade now barely even registered. "Listen, can I talk to you about a potential issue? Private, patient-doctor confidentiality and all that."
"Sure." Keller dusted her hands off over the garbage can and led him to her desk. "What's up?"
Rodney fished a small plastic bag out of his pocket and slid it to her. "Can you run a genetic test on this?"
Keller glanced inside and recoiled. "Is that what I think it is?"
Rodney sighed. "Yes, it's a condom full of ejaculate. Yes, it's John's – Sheppard's. No, I don't want to talk about it. Just test it, please!"
"OK, keep your pants on." Keller realized what she'd said and blushed. "Er, sorry."
She prepared a slide with the material and inserted it into one of the Ancient medical analysis slots. "What precisely am I looking for, here?"
Rodney took a deep breath. "Traces of Michael's cloning technology, like what showed up in Carson's tests."
Keller whirled around. "What? You can't be serious!"
"Listen, believe me, I hope that I'm wrong. I would give anything to be the wrongest of the wrong here." Rodney paced. "I just can't afford to ignore this."
"Let me see what I can find out."
It was the longest five minutes that Rodney had ever experienced. When the truth popped up "MATCH CONFIRMED" in glowing red letters, he took a moment to silently castigate himself for believing even for a minute that he would have a chance with John Sheppard. He sent a coded command under the tightest of security to set up quarantines around John's access, then jogged off to gather up the troops. He couldn't trust that the clone hadn't tapped into the system.
With Teyla, Ronon, Lorne, and a full squadron posted at strategic locations along the corridor, Rodney triggered the door chimes to John's quarters.
In the grandest of soap opera traditions: TO BE CONTINUED...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-18 04:52 pm (UTC)