Supergeek

This should be considered AU due to a certain development of a minor character and also that it is Preslash. Post Brotherhood w/all the spoilers that implies. It is also AU with my Geek series which is gen and will remain gen. This is just an interesting branch off. Maybe one time only.

Follow up to Goonus Americanus, which is posted on Fanfic or at Mara/Smushybird’s site.

No archiving please (see above for available locations.)

PG 13 for implied violence. No nookie...no kissing even. :)

I changed my mind.

It wasn’t something I did very often. Don’t get me wrong. Most of my choices weren’t well thought out constructions of logic and weighed risk. Sure, I could tell you they were, but it would be a lie. Usually I made my decisions from the gut, something that didn’t endear me to my superiors. Sometimes those decisions worked out and sometimes they failed. And other times they failed spectacularly. Either way, right or wrong, I didn’t often second guess myself. I did this time though.

It was one thing that did it for me. One moment framed in time and light. One tap of fate’s finger on my shoulder saying, you might want to rethink this one, Sheppard.

Rodney stood there in the slanting sun of an early afternoon, talking about, of all things, Mensa. Had I passed the test? There was a chapter at Atlantis…I’ll bet those were a laugh a minute…and I should come. He was jabbering on, mobile face animated. There we were in a pit we’d nearly died in, and he was acting as if it was nothing more than a genius meet-and-greet. Bemused, I’d watched him as the words parted and rushed around me like water. Cool as a cucumber, he was mentally crowning himself geek of the week, I could tell. Could read it in the cheerfully smug tilt of his chin, the flash of his hands. Look at me. Brave under fire, tough as nails…see me strut.

And if some of that was cover for the hours of soul-searing stress he’d just undergone, who was I to call him on that? On the contrary, I admired him for it, the way he bounced back. He’d saved our asses by finding the ZPM while Kolya was breathing down his neck. He’d stood up to the son of a bitch and not given an inch. Not one damn inch. Hell, he’d thrown himself into the mouth of the lion before I could begin to think about stopping him. Later, he’d had a bad moment thinking I would die because he couldn’t figure out some ancient version of a Rubik’s cube. Yeah, it had been a helluva day for Rodney and I would be the first to say so. Whatever defense mechanisms he wanted to use, I was all for. If he wanted to gloat over having the ZPM and having stuck it to Kolya, I was right there with him. And if he wanted a crown…well, that he could make it himself, but I’d give him a salute when he put it on.

I was more than ready for a little stress relief myself and watching McKay carry on had somehow over the months become a favorite method. And so I gave him a few more minutes of it than I normally would have with the situation at hand, but finally we had to go. That’s when I saw it, my amusement fading fast. Rodney reached for the rope to the surface and there they were, glowing silver in the light. Scars. Three whitened lines that crossed his forearm. They’d healed nicely, considering the jagged slashes Beckett had had to work with, but he was still marked for life. To the day he died, he would look at his arm and remember. So would I. I didn’t always see the scars though…sometimes I them as fresh as the day Kolya had one of his flunkies inflict them. Bloody and painful, raw and ugly. A sobering reminder of a time I hadn’t watched out for one of my geeks well enough.

I’d fucked up then. How about I didn’t fuck up now?

So…I changed my mind.

“McKay, get your ass out here,” I demanded for the third time as I pounded on the door. Oh, Atlantis had nifty, discreet little chimes you could trigger with a mental nudge. But the hell with that. There were times you just wanted to hit something…or kick it, and a dorky ripple of windchimes just wasn’t going to get it. Times like now. I had things to do, places to be, and Rodney was an integral part of those things…if he’d get his butt in gear.

After one last kick to the door, I gave in. He’d locked the door…not that I much blamed him…but there were ways around that. Even at his most geeky devious, I had the feeling there was one part of the system, McKay wouldn’t mess with. He valued his own hide too much for that. Sighing, I thought firmly, Fire. Trapped. Open.

Sometimes McKay accuses me of not thinking things through to the end. He says it’s pure mental laziness, and he’s probably right. Then there are other times where I have a sneaking suspicion what the end result is going to be, messy and unfortunate, but I don’t particularly care. I didn’t bother to figure which of the two this occasion was. I simply sat back and enjoyed it.

The door snapped open to reveal the fire retardant foam that sprayed from every flat surface in the room. Walls, ceiling, floor, it looked like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man had gotten into the Ipecac and bazooka barfed a few hundred gallons. The white froth foamed out into the hall and advanced to my feet. “Huh,” I said. “Smells like vanilla.”

“You son of a bitch.”

Rodney came barreling out of his room, white foam flying from his wildly gesturing arms. “What part of personal space is it that escapes you, Sheppard? If I don’t answer the door that means I want pri-va-cy.” He broke down the word into slow exaggerated syllables. “Do you even grasp the meaning of the word? Do you need a dictionary? Spelled out in sign language? A sixth grade education? What? Just tell me, okay? Tell me.”

I held up the DVD box in my hand, waggled it, and grinned. “Back to the Future. Wanna watch with me? I know it’s your favorite movie.”

He stared at me, foam sliding down one cheek. Dressed in what had to be the ugliest plaid shirt known to man and baggy sweats from his pudgier days, he looked tired. It took McKay about three days to get five o’clock shadow…I had my doubts he could’ve grown a beard without massive chemical intervention, but he did have dark smudges under his eyes, a pained line between his brows, and eyes both weary and wary. The King had lost his crown, and it didn’t look like he cared all that much. “I hate that movie,” he said slowly. “And you know I hate that movie. How do I know? Flux capacitor, that’s how I know. I remember very clearly you screwing….”

I put a hand on his back and pushed him into motion. “Yeah, yeah. A mind like a steel trap. Never forget anything. Remember your own birth. Critiqued the doctor on his delivery technique. I’ve heard it all before. Just watch the movie, McKay. You’ll get a kick out of pointing out all the many horrific mistakes they’ve made. And, who knows, maybe I’ll learn something.” I added with syrupy earnestness, “Teach me, Dr. McKay. I live only to be educated at your learned feet.”

He continued to grimly slog along at my side. “I hate you. I know I tell you that frequently, but it bears repeating. I loathe you. Curse the primordial ooze that spawned you and your mutant Chia-head.”

Ignoring the foam, I slung an arm over his shoulders. “I also have alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.”

His eyes slid in my direction. “Yet there’s no denying you possess an occasional oafish charm.”

We reached the entertainment room or what we were using as an entertainment room…who knew what the Ancients used it for. Meditation no doubt or something equally boring and mystically enlightened. Big yawn. While McKay flopped on what passed for the couch, I put the movie in and then eased my duffel bag to the floor. Unzipping it, I handed him the towel I kept in the event I went for a work out and then pulled out an unmarked bottle. The faint blue tinge to the liquid marked it clearly as the rotgut known as Zelenka-stoli. Or as I called it when I was in the right frame of mind… “Smurf piss,” I drawled, handing Rodney the bottle. “Accept no substitutes.” I then dug out two glasses and a long hoarded bag of Doritos.

Rodney toweled his hair, wiped off his shirt and pants and following that didn’t waste any time pouring his first shot. He socked it back then poured another. Considering the day he’d had, I was surprised he didn’t just suck on the bottle. In the course of the morning, he’d been taken hostage by Kolya, found the ZPM, lost the ZPM, lost the girl, and discovered that the Wraith were two weeks from making us an all you can eat buffet. Yeah, as days went, he’d probably had better. I know I had.

“Why’d you lock the door, McKay?” I asked suddenly, taking the bottle and splashed a healthy slug into my own glass. He opened his mouth and I cut him off, “And don’t give me that privacy bullshit. You knew I’d come by, and you knew I wouldn’t just leave. I don’t give up that easily.”

“No, you don’t, do you? Good thing for you.” He stared moodily into his glass before exhaling and leaning back against the cushion. “I wanted to see what you would do,” he admitted reluctantly, the corner of his mouth curling up faintly. “You always have…intriguing…solutions to problems. They’re usually wrong, mind you, beyond wrong. Wrong in ways that defy a system capable of measuring their wrongness, that’s how wrong, but they are intriguing.” He scowled. “Of course, I had no idea intriguing would turn into the wholesale destruction of all my belongings….”

“A little foam.” I waved a hand and handed him the Doritos. “It’ll dry. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Now stop bitching and watch the movie.”

Surprisingly, he did. It wasn’t a good sign. A quiet, obedient McKay? Start looking under the bed for a pod, because that simply wasn’t right. I let it go though…for the moment. We both needed to unwind before I threw the conversation at him I knew for a fact that he’d want to avoid. If I’d been on his end, I would’ve wanted to dodge it as well. But he hadn’t let me get around the Chaya discussion, and God knew I’d tried like hell. I’d thought I was home free after he and Beckett had pulled that chip out of my back. Let me count the ways that wasn’t so. Apparently, I had issues with someone hijacking my body along with my free will. Big, bad issues…whether I wanted to admit it or not. I’d gotten one half-assed night of sleep in the infirmary and an annoying streak of insomnia after that. I don’t know how McKay knew. I didn’t tell him; he’d had his own troubles at the time dealing with a foaming at the mouth Kavanaugh. Fill a man’s room with raw sewage and he gets twitchy. Go figure.

Yeah, I didn’t know how Rodney knew…but he did. On the third night he’d shown up, kicked my ass in Hiveship, drank me under the table, and dragged shit out of me I didn’t even know was there. McKay might not be the most socially adept creature around, to put it mildly, but once he did sniff something out, he was a bulldog. And he chewed my ass but good until he heard what he wanted to hear. Actually, he probably didn’t want to hear it anymore than I wanted to spill it. It was a mess of ugly, nasty emotions that were almost as toxic as what had flooded Kavanaugh’s room. But he’d hung in there…nagging, prodding, bossing, and taunting until he’d wrung me dry like a washcloth. And that night…that night I slept. I booby-trapped my door with a chair in case I went Chaya-wandering in my sleep and gave strong consideration to tying my ankle to the bed, but I slept.

Now it was my turn to return the favor.

An hour later McKay was skunked, and I’d learned more than I ever cared to know about temporal physics and their effect on a DeLorean. I’d paced myself on the Zelenka-stoli as it was my turn to babysit, and trying to keep up with a drunk Rodney while mostly sober was an experience to say the least.

“I miss borscht,” he announced out of nowhere. He’d slouched so far down on the couch that I had to look down at him. “I really liked borscht.”

“Borscht,” I repeated, grimacing. “Isn’t that beet soup?”

“Yes, beet soup,” he sighed, eyes blurred with fond memories. “I ate it all the time while I was working in Russia.”

“You like it there?” I’d known many a soldier stationed there and as a rule they hadn’t much cared for it. Too cold, no quality porn, and the price of vodka was sky-high.

“It wasn’t bad. Good food.” Only McKay, a walking talking garbage disposal with a double PhD, would classify Russia as a culinary mecca. “Good work ethic. Interesting files from the pre-Iron Curtain days.” He held out a hand with thumb and forefinger a half inch apart. “They came this close…this close to constructing a DeLorean of their own.”

“Really?” I said amused. “And you said it couldn’t be done.”

“It can’t.” He rolled eyes at my obtuseness and went on with the very careful overarticulation of the truly inebriated. “Not yet anyway, but they came close. Remarkably close. Damn close. Don’t tell Radek though. He hates Russians like poison. It would kill him to know that they almost pulled it off.”

“I doubt it’ll come up in daily conversation,” I responded solemnly. “So, you speak any Russian?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, just the important phrases. Shut up. Zakroeeta berx. You’re an idiot. Bring me coffee. Preneceeta menye kofeego. Reactor leak, run for your miserable lives. The usual.” Reaching for the bottle wedged between his legs, he took a pull. He’d given up on using his glass after the sixth shot. “Besides, I felt it was their obligation to speak English for my benefit.”

My lips twitched. The ugly American was a well-known stereotype, but the ugly Canadian? “And why is that, Dr. McKay?”

“It’s obvious.” He gestured so enthusiastically with bottle still in hand that I barely escaped a concussion. “If all the space aliens speak it, why can’t they?”

I blinked. “You might have a point there.” Retrieving the bottle from possessively clenched fingers, I added, “Is that where you learned to drink?” I could drink…I didn’t have it down to an art form or anything, but I could hold my own. But McKay, on the rare occasion he did get snockered, could leave me in the dust.

Nodding, he turned his attention to the crumbs left in the bottom of the Dorito bag. “Russian moonshine. They drank it with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. After a while, you think of it like water. Plus it killed the germs. And there were lots and lots of germs up there, not to mention an appalling lack of deodorant.” Turning the bag upside down, he caught a layer of bright orange dust in his hand as he said matter-of-fact, “Here is better.”

I considered that for a moment. If you subtracted the Wraith, the Genii, and the whole imminent death issue…yeah, here was good. Here was pretty damn good. “No argument from me there. It has Antarctica beat hands down.”

McKay shivered involuntarily. “Hell on Earth. I don’t know how you survived it, especially living on the chronic edge of malnutrition as you do.” He peered suspiciously at the empty bag then back at me. “Seriously, what’s your secret? Hyperthyroidism? Tapeworm? Deal with the devil?” He didn’t wait for a response, hopping to the next subject instantaneously with the ADD so typical to a really good buzz. His mood did an abrupt one-eighty as well.

“I thought she liked me.”

He repeated it, discarding the plastic bag and folding his arms defensively across his chest. “I really thought she liked me. You said she liked me.” It was mournful, accusing, and woebegone beyond the imagining. In vino veritas, right? What Rodney would never let slip from his lips sober was pulled out reluctantly now. Another victim of Zelenka-Stoli goes down.

I sighed and leaned a few inches until my shoulder rested against his. “She did like you, Casanova,” I said mildly. “She just liked duty more. Look at it from her point of view. If some hot thing came along and asked you to give up what you value you most, would you?”

He glared at me with eyes bloodshot from fermented alien potatoes and hair spiky and stiff from fire-foam. “You’re wearing what I value most, you thieving bastard. And you won’t give it back. I mean, other than annoying me…which you live to do, don’t think I don’t know it…why are you wearing it? Why? What does it prove?”

“That we’re going steady.” I smoothed a wrinkle in the ‘I’m With Genius’ T-shirt that I’d borrowed last week and grinned. Damn straight I wasn’t giving it back. The expression on his face each and every single time I wore it was priceless. And I thought that Zelenka might have actually squirted a little lemonade once when he caught sight of me in the corridor. He’d backed up against a wall and laughed until his glasses steamed up. Then there was the day before yesterday when Kavanaugh, apparently better known as the Fashion Police, had followed me for several hundred feet demanding with strident superciliousness to know my IQ. Give that up? Yeah, right.

“Going steady.” He hesitated then sat up enough to drop his head in his hands. “Right. Okay. Why not? It’s not as if I’d be any worse off. You do have some extra parts, but I’m a scientist. I’ve streamlined things before.” He moved one hand out to make a scissors snip snip gesture. “It’s doable.”

All right. Time to stop that train of thought in its tracks. “Back to your sweet patootie,” I said hastily. “Seriously, McKay, if some gorgeous space bimbo asked you to give up almighty science, would you? Hell, could you?”

He didn’t look up. “It’s not the same,” he mumbled. “I’m a catch. The ultimate prize. Brilliant, movie-star good looks, god-like in my compassion for my fellow man. Women should be willing to betray their planet for me. Their religion and a puny ZedPM should be nothing. But noooo.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “No.”

No. I’d been on the receiving end of a no or two in my day. I knew how it felt. It goddamn sucked.

“You know,” I said slowly, “I think you’re right. Betray their planet, their religion, it seems perfectly reasonable to me. And that leaves only one explanation.”

He opened his eyes. “It does?”

“Yep. She’s crazy. And not just a little crazy, but certifiably psychotic.” I knocked a knuckle against my head. “Probably hears voices, too. You can’t really hold it against her, Rodney. You have to pity her. She’s a sick woman; she has no idea what she’s doing.”

“Pity her?” he echoed, brows furrowing.

“Exactly.”

“Because she’s insane.”

I nodded firmly. “Absolutely. Otherwise how could she turn all this down.” I flipped a hand, indicating him from head to foot. Tousled, sticky hair, glassy eyes, clothes only the Salvation Army could love, and alcohol breath that could be legitimately counted as a superpower. The Embalmer, ladies and gentlemen…he can pickle you in one breath. “She’d have to be nuts.”

He stared at me for a moment then snorted, “You are so full of shit.” That’s when he swiveled and keeled over, the back of his head landing with a solid smack on my leg just above my knee. It surprised the hell out of me. Rodney, much like a prickly porcupine, definitely had a wide range of personal space. I just wasn’t sure if it was to protect us from him or him from us. “Radek should’ve tossed you into Kavanaugh’s quarters. Major Sheppard or three feet of raw sewage, it amounts to the same thing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I looked up at the transparent ceiling to see what he was staring so intently at. “What are you looking at?”

“The stars.” He was quiet for a moment then went on. “And three hiveships full of leeches with bad skin and a surprisingly good haircare regimen.” Exhaling, he shifted his gaze to the top of my head. “Maybe they’ll let you live, common ground and all.” He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Jesus, John, I had the ZedPM. I had it. Damn it.”

“We had it,” I corrected. “And we lost it. Yeah, that bites, but if we did still have it, would it be enough to fight off three Wraith ships?”

“No,” he admitted reluctantly. “It would’ve kept the shields up for a while, but…no. It would’ve been enough to get us back to Earth through the Stargate though, if it were fully charged.”

“We haven’t found any so far that are.” I gave a small disgusted shift of my shoulders. Ancients…the longer we were here, the less they were impressing me. “I’m not sure this time would’ve been any different. Let it go. If you want to blame anyone, blame me for waking up the leeches to begin with. You do what you can do, Rodney, and that’s all you can do. What ifs will only suck the life out of you.” I felt the dark humor curl my lips. “Poor choice of words.”

“You’re telling me.” He grimaced, but then his face smoothed thoughtfully. “It’s not as if they wouldn’t have woken up soon enough anyway. There’s no way their caretakers wouldn’t have noticed us mucking about Atlantis for fifty years. We’re lucky we found out about them first. Think if we hadn’t. We’d be minding our own business diligently working in the labs…or in your case, lying about like a slug soaking up the sun on one of the balconies…and boom.” His lips tightened. “Boom.”

I could picture it. An unsuspecting Atlantis full of happy, clueless SGA personnel…they would’ve picked us clean in minutes. We might’ve been able to get a jumper or two up in the chaos, but I don’t think we would’ve lasted long, not against a hiveship. And we wouldn’t have known then that it was better to die than be taken alive. “Boom,” I agreed wearily. I leaned back and felt my bones melt a little. Long day, a moderate amount of alcohol, and a warm lap…McKay put off heat like a furnace…it wasn’t conducive to a high degree of alertness.

“You know what the worst part of today was?”

I opened my eyes with a start; I hadn’t even realized they’d closed. “You can actually narrow it down to one?” I asked with disbelief.

“Yes,” he said seriously, “I can.” His gaze slid towards a far wall. “The worst part is knowing that you would’ve died if you had had to depend on me. I couldn’t figure out a stupid puzzle that any MIT janitor could’ve solved. You would’ve died and all I could do was stand around and say ‘I’m sorry.’” His hand moved in a short, angry jerk. “’Sorry.’ I’m sure that would’ve been a great comfort to you as the poison coursed through your veins. The great Rodney McKay couldn’t save my life, but, hey, he’s really, really sorry.”

I’d caught him loosely by the wrist to keep his gesturing hand from bopping me in the nose. I lowered it to his chest and kept my grip, gently squeezing. “So you’re calling me an MIT janitor, huh? Thanks so much.”

He ignored it. “You would’ve died. Because I wasn’t quick enough, wasn’t half as smart as I think I am, you would’ve died.”

“McKay, you arrogant asshole” I said with affectionate exasperation, “it’s not your job to save my life. You do it all the time, I know, but it’s not your responsibility. It’s mine to save yours. Yours, Dr. Z’s, even Kavanaugh’s. That’s why I’m here, my sole purpose—to save geek lives. And on occasion, I can even manage to save my own. I know seeing is apparently barely believing, but it’s true.”

From the grim set of his mouth, he didn’t seem convinced. “Rodney,” I sighed, trying again, “I’ve been taking care of myself a long time. I haven’t lost the knack by stepping through a stargate.” I squeezed his wrist again. “And you did fine. Better than fine. Hell, you faced down Kolya. Trust me, Kavanaugh would’ve pissed his pants if he’d been there. You were…damn…you were something else.” I gave a faint grin. “Supergeek. Able to leap homicidal psychopaths in a single bound.”

“I would’ve preferred to pound mercilessly not leap, but point taken.” The lines in his face relaxed some as he shifted his head on his makeshift pillow. He’d heard what I’d said. He might not totally believe it, but he’d heard it. “On behalf of the…ah…Geek Nation, as you put it, we do appreciate it, you know. You standing between us and…well…everything. Most of us have worked with the military off and on a long time. Everyone loves a government grant, right? Right. But usually the goons think we’re a royal pain in the ass. Deadweight. They’re definitely not that happy to play bodyguard.” He scowled. “Not that I don’t think that you take your name too seriously sometimes. Zelenka would miss you if you got your sorry ass killed. So would Beckett.”

“They would?” I stretched my legs, careful not to dislodge him. “I think the Doc would welcome the break.”

“Not funny, okay?” he frowned. “Very much not funny.”

Considering our current situation, no, it probably wasn’t. “Yeah, sorry.” And I was.

“Idiot,” he muttered. He lay there silently for a moment, eyes at half-mast, and if he wasn’t thinking about that same situation then he wasn’t human. And Rodney was a lot of things, but he was definitely human with his fair share of human foibles. Let’s be honest…more than his fair share. It was part of what made Rodney Rodney. Arrogant, smug, pushy, impatient, sarcastic…it was funny how all those things that would’ve been annoying as hell on anyone else worked on him.

His wrist moved in my grip breaking my train of thought. He circled it until his hand clasped my wrist in return. “There’s a reason that I didn’t notice Alina at first,” he said quietly. “I’m a social moron, I know, but I’m not completely hopeless.”

Yeah, he’d been thinking all right. “No?” I tilted my head. His hand was warm on my skin, his fingers textured with calluses. Acid, electrical burns, building fembots, those things leave their mark.

“No.” He wanted to be exasperated, I could tell. Wanted to snap his fingers, twirl that manic hand. But he didn’t. For all the typical McKay impatience, for once he was afraid of what he might hear.

Hell, it wasn’t news. I’d known for a while, but I hadn’t been sure that he had. Rodney’s not one for long bouts of internal reflection, to say the least. But then Chaya came along and I’d thought it safe to say he’d figured it out. As he’d said…social moron, but not hopeless. I’d been thinking about it, too…hard…but naturally life stepped in and kicked my ass. Between Chaya trying to reel me back courtesy of a mind-altering chip in my back, the infirmary stay, and the insomnia, I’d had my plate full. The first chance I get to take a breather, there’s Kolya and three hiveships coming our way.

We had two weeks until the Wraith arrived. Two. There was no way to fight them, at least not the kind of fight you’d walk away from. We’d probably end up evacuating everyone we could through the stargate…assuming we could find someplace to evacuate to. As I watched, my geeks would disappear through the event horizon, probably with Rodney probably bitching the whole way. I’d send every man I could through with them, but someone would have to bring up the rear. And the people who do that…yeah.

Two weeks with me…just try to get him through the gate then. I could cause a lot of damage to Rodney. The Wraith were coming, death with pale skin and soulless eyes, and yet it was somehow possible for me to actually make things harder for him…should he survive. I couldn’t do that.

Wouldn’t do that.

My lips curved slightly and I ran a thumb lightly along the line of that pugnacious jaw. I couldn’t see the bristle but I could feel the invisible prick of it against my skin. Rodney had changeable eyes. From a distance they almost looked hazel, but up close they were blue. Clear blue but for a single brown speck near the pupil of the left one. Usually they were dark with irritation and impatience, now they were dark with something else. Hope. Fear. An almost belligerent vulnerability. And other things…better things…things meant only for me.

I leaned forward until my forehead rested against his and closed my eyes. His free hand came up to tightly cup the back of my neck, and we stayed that way for minutes, maybe longer. His breath was warm against my ear, soft and even until it finally hitched slightly. “So…time for the big lie?” He tried hard…he really did. And he almost pulled it off. It was breezy and casual, cracking only the tiniest amount at the end.

I exhaled, opened my eyes and straightened. Sliding my hand through his grip until I could link fingers, I promised quietly, “After the Wraith. When we’re safe. We’ll do things that will have Kavanaugh crying for his mommy, and we’ll make the backseat of every jumper unsafe for human habitation.” Then I grinned. It wasn’t a false one. It was genuine and real, because it wasn’t for myself. It was for Rodney. “I’m just hoping you let me keep those extra parts. Not all pilots are about the streamlining.”

He smiled back…it was faint and crooked as always, but it was there. “You give great lie, Major. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

I slid down further in the cushions and combed fingers through his spiky hair. Flakes of dry foam showered my leg and I gave an amused twitch of my lips. “Sorry about that whole fire thing. I’ll help you clean it up.”

“No, you’re not, and, yes, you will.” He closed his eyes, but his hand stayed firmly almost desperately wrapped around mine. After several minutes, his body began to relax, loose from approaching sleep and fading moonshine. “Probably have nightmares,” he mumbled, his head falling to the side. Nose buried in my appropriated T-shirt, he exhaled. “At least if the Wraith get us, I won’t have to worry about Kolya anymore. Bastard. Sneaky goddamn bastard. Always out there like a snake waiting to strike.” He grimaced. “Hate snakes.”

“You hate everything,” I snorted. I moved my hand from his hair to the side of his neck and kneaded lightly. “And you don’t have to worry about Kolya.”

“Hunh.” The grunt of disbelief hit my stomach. “He comes back. He always comes back. He’s like a movie monster, only with bad breath and a uniform fetish.”

“Rodney,” I repeated patiently, “you don’t have to worry about him.”

He opened his eyes and looked up at me. He blinked once at what he saw, nodded slowly, and let his lids fall again. “Good to know,” he murmured. “Good to know.” He lifted his other hand until it was up near his shoulder and fisted it in the bottom of my shirt. “John,” it was nearly inaudible, but I heard it nonetheless, “thanks.”

I moved my hand back to his hair and let it rest there. “Go to sleep, Supergeek.” He did, almost instantly. His head grew heavier in my lap, but his hand stayed intertwined with mine.

One moment. I hoped it didn’t have to be all there was, but if it were…it was enough.

It was enough.

I changed my mind.

He had no idea. The son of a bitch looked into my eyes and didn’t see a thing. He’d already put me into a handy little slot. Yeah, sure, I’d killed sixty of his own, but that had been in the heat of battle. Kill or be killed. This was a different matter altogether, and I’d already walked away leaving him alive. And he’d labeled me because of it. I knew what that label read: soldier, bred and born. Not a wolf. Not a predator. An honorable man, and he’d no doubt thought that with considerable disdain.

And I had been. Right up until I saw Rodney’s scars, pale in the sunlight. Suddenly, at that moment, my definition of honorable was radically altered.

I’d shot him once and he’d come back. We’d defeated him again, by the skin of our teeth same as last time, but who the fuck was I trying to fool by thinking there wouldn’t be another time. And another. He’d keep coming until he was dead, and he’d take one of us with him. Sooner or later. Maybe it would be Rodney, whose smart mouth made him forget for a second that he needed his big brain. Maybe it would be me or Teyla or Ford.

Or how about this instead? It wouldn’t be anybody.

“What do you want?” he asked with contempt as I moved close. He shifted to look at me, grunted dismissively, then turned his back on me. “To say goodbye, Major Sheppard? Don’t worry, it’s not goodbye. I’ll be seeing you and yours again.”

I crouched behind him, my weight resting on one knee. His hands were bound behind him as he sat on the dirt floor. It didn’t inhibit his arrogance in the slightest. “You told me I was making a mistake, Kolya,” I said without emotion. “I came back to tell you I’m a big enough man to admit it.” Until I spoke he hadn’t bothered to look over his shoulder at me again—after all, I was labeled. Honorable. Foolish. But now…now he tried to look.

Too little, too late.

I didn’t use the gun. I didn’t want the sound to reach the surface, putting the others in an awkward position when it came to mission reports. When we’d killed Steve, I felt a part of me tarnish like old tin. Bright to shadowed grey. The Wraith had been a monster and a killer, and he would’ve done worse to me if he’d had the chance. Much worse. It still didn’t make it right. All it did was make me a little more like him.

More like him…less like me.

What I did to Kolya wasn’t right either. Quick. Necessary. But not right.

I wiped the blade of my combat knife on Kolya’s pants and resheathed it. Walking to the entrance, I called up, “McKay, get your ass in gear and haul me out of here, would ya?”

I would’ve done it again in a heartbeat.

The End