|
It was
late by
the time
Carson
Beckett
finished
up at
the
infirmary.
Bates
had
needed a
few
stitches
and
required
quite a
bit of
tidying
up as
well.
Carson
still
wasn't
entirely
sure how
the man
had come
by his
injuries
- he
looked
as if
he'd
been
given
something
of a
beating,
but he'd
remained
tight-lipped
about
the
cause of
the
wounds,
and the
guards
with him
hadn't
given
him much
of a
clue,
either,
although
Carson
gathered
they
were
there by
order of
Colonel
Sheppard
so he
guessed
that the
colonel
knew
what the
hell was
going
on, even
if he
didn't.
Now it
was
late,
and
Carson
was so
tired
that he
almost
trod on
the wet
bundle
of a man
sitting
in his
doorway.
"What
the…?"
he
began,
and then
he bent
down and
took a
closer
look.
"Christ,
John,
what the
hell are
you
doing
lying
here
like
this?"
he
whispered.
John
Sheppard
looked
terrible
- truly
the
worst
Carson
had ever
seen
him. He
was wet
through,
his
black
tee
shirt
sticking
to his
skin,
and his
dark
hair
wind-tousled
and
slick
with
water,
but that
wasn't
what
struck
Carson
most.
Instead,
he was
drawn to
the
expression
in the
colonel's
usually
friendly
hazel
eyes.
Carson
winced -
he
recognised
that
look,
knew,
instinctively,
that
this was
a top in
trouble,
and
suddenly
he had
no doubt
at all
that
John's
current
condition
was
directly
related
to
Bates's
injuries.
"You'd
better
come
inside,
lad," he
sighed,
opening
the door
to his
quarters.
John got
up,
stretching
out
those
long
legs of
his as
he
pulled
himself
upright,
and then
he
followed
Carson
into the
room,
dripping
water as
he went.
Carson
didn't
say a
word to
the man.
He just
guided
the
colonel
into a
chair,
slung
him a
towel,
and
then,
while
John was
towelling
down,
Carson
brewed
some
tea,
filled
it with
sugar,
added a
dram of
whisky,
and
handed
it to
the
colonel.
John
took a
sip and
then
made a
face.
Carson
shrugged.
"Drink
it," he
advised.
It
wasn't a
tone of
voice
that
anyone
had ever
yet
refused,
and even
John
Sheppard,
confident
top
though
he was,
just got
on with
it and
swallowed
the
sweet
tea down
in
gulps.
Carson
found
the
colonel
a fresh
tee
shirt
and a
pair of
sweat
pants
and gave
them to
him,
pointing
in the
direction
of the
bathroom.
"First
you get
changed,
then you
come out
here and
we
talk,"
he said
firmly.
John
took the
garments
without
a word,
like the
most
obedient
of subs,
and
disappeared
into the
bathroom.
Carson
took off
his
white
coat,
and
pulled
on a
fresh
sweater
of his
own. He
was
tired,
and it
was
late,
but
somehow
he
thought
this
might
take
awhile.
He
poured
himself
a
measure
of
whisky
and
downed
it in
one
gulp,
and then
he sat
down on
the side
of the
bed and
waited.
The
colonel
reappeared
a few
minutes
later,
and
hesitated
in the
doorway,
holding
his
damp,
crumpled
clothes.
"Leave
those in
the
bathroom,"
Carson
instructed.
"And get
yourself
over
here,
John."
John did
as he
was told
and sat
down on
the
chair by
the bed.
The
sweatpants
were too
short
for his
long
legs and
his
ankles
poked
out of
the
bottoms,
incongruously.
"I'm
sorry,"
he said.
"I
didn't
mean to
inconvenience
you."
His body
was
shaking
ever so
slightly,
and
Carson
frowned
and took
a
blanket
from the
bed and
wrapped
it
around
his
shoulders.
"No
apologies
required.
I'm your
doctor
and your
friend -
so it
isn't an
inconvenience,"
he said
firmly.
"What
happened
tonight,
John?"
John
looked
up, and
there
was a
burning
expression
in his
eyes
that
Carson
had
never
seen
before.
Usually
the
colonel
was so
laidback,
rarely
looking
as if he
cared
about
anything
very
deeply,
but he
certainly
seemed
to care
about
something
right
now.
"I can't
control
it,"
John
said,
still
shivering.
"I feel
like…I
came
here
because
I was
worried
about
what I'd
do,
Carson."
"About
what
you'd
do…?
Ah."
Carson
nodded.
"I
presume
this has
something
to do
with
Bates?
I've
just
finished
with him
and
someone
gave him
a nasty
beating;
judging
by the
condition
of your
knuckles,
that
someone
would be
you." He
glanced
at the
knuckles
on
John's
right
hand,
which
were red
raw and
bleeding
in
places.
"If
you're
worried
that you
might be
tempted
to go
back and
finish
the job
then I
think
you can
rest
easy on
that
score.
You
posted a
couple
of
guards
on him
remember?"
John
nodded,
his eyes
hazy.
"What
did he
do?"
Carson
asked.
"Tried
to force
his
collar
on
Rodney,
to make
him sub
for
him."
John's
hands
clenched
into
tight
fists,
and
Carson
winced
at the
look in
his
eyes.
"It's
been
going on
for
weeks,
Carson -
the
coercion,
harassment,
physical
intimidation
- been
going on
right
under
our
noses,
and we
didn't
see it."
Carson
got up,
his jaw
tightening.
"That
bloody
bastard.
If you
hadn't
already
taken
care of
it I'd
go and
sort the
bugger
out
myself,"
he
muttered.
"Is
Rodney
okay?"
He
wanted
to go to
his
friend,
to check
for
himself
that
Rodney
was all
right,
but
John's
need
seemed
more
pressing
right
now so
he
forced
himself
to stay.
"He's
fine.
He's his
usually
prickly
self in
fact."
John
gave a
wry
ghost of
a grin.
"But I'm
not
fine,
Carson.
I've
been an
idiot."
"I'm
sure you
have,"
Carson
said
wryly.
"About
what in
particular?"
"About
everything
I
think."
John
shook
his
head. "I
didn't
see what
Bates
was
doing.
I…punished
Rodney
tonight
for
lying to
me, for
leaving
Bates
behind
when we
were
offworld,
but I
can't
honestly
say I
blame
him now
that I
know
what was
going
on. What
he did
was
wrong,
of
course,
and I
can't
ever
condone
leaving
a man
behind
like
that,
but…all
the
same, I
can see
why he
did it."
"Rodney's
a big
boy,
John,"
Carson
told him
firmly.
"If the
punishment
was
unjustified
he could
have
argued
his case
but he
gave you
nothing."
"He was
ashamed."
John
fastened
his
fingers
around
his cup
and
stared
into the
dregs.
"Is it
guilt
you're
feeling?
Is that
why
you're
here?"
Carson
asked,
hoping
that
wasn't
the
case. If
John
wanted
some
kind of
punishment
to
relieve
his
emotions
then
he'd do
it -
he'd
done it
for
other
tops
before -
but it
wasn't
something
he
enjoyed.
"No."
John
shook
his
head. "I
can't
keep the
feelings
under
control,
Carson.
I…I've
never
felt
like
this
before
and it's
driving
me
insane.
When I
saw him
just
now…oh
christ,
I want
him,
Carson.
I want
him so
much it
*hurts*."
Carson
rocked
back on
his
heels
and
gazed at
the
colonel.
He
wasn't
surprised
by this
news,
but he
was
surprised
by how
John was
handling
it.
"It's
all I
can
think
about.
Touching
him,
claiming
him,
kissing
him…I
feel
like if
I can't
have him
it'll
kill me.
When
Bates
tried to
put his
collar
on
him…."
John got
up, and
slammed
his fist
against
the
wall.
Carson
winced -
John's
knuckles
were
already
torn so
that had
to hurt.
"If
anyone
touches
him I
don't
know
what
I'll do.
How can
I work
with
him?"
John
asked in
despair.
"If
we're
out in
the
field
and he
gets
hurt, or
if
someone
threatens
him…how
will I
be able
to
control
myself?"
"You'll
learn,"
Carson
said, in
a hard
tone.
"You'll
learn
because
you have
to. Now
come
here and
sit
down."
He got
out the
emergency
medical
kit he
kept in
his
nightstand
and
beckoned
the
colonel
over.
There
was no
use
soft-soaping
the man,
and
sending
him on
his way
with
platitudes.
John had
a real
problem,
and it
was one
that
Carson
had
encountered
before,
so he
wasn't
going to
make
light of
it. Some
tops,
usually
those at
the more
dominant
end of
the
spectrum,
*did*
find it
hard
dealing
with the
strength
of their
emotions
towards
their
subs. He
was just
surprised
that
John, of
all
people,
felt
this
way, and
the man
would
need
real,
hard-headed
support,
if he
was
going to
handle
it.
John did
as he
was
told,
and
Carson
took
hold of
his hand
and
examined
the
knuckles.
"Well I
don't
think
anything's
broken,"
he said,
wiping
some gel
over
John's
hand and
reaching
for a
bandage.
"Have
you ever
felt
like
this?"
John
asked.
"Christ,
what's
going
on. Why
can't
I…?" He
pulled
his hand
away,
got up
again,
and
started
pacing
impatiently
around
the room
like a
caged
panther.
"Sit
down,
Colonel.
Now,"
Carson
ordered,
in as
hard a
tone as
he
possessed.
John
gave a
low
growl,
but did
as he
was
told,
and
Carson
finished
bandaging
up his
hand. "I
know it
hurts -
oh, not
your
knuckles
- how
you're
feeling
- but
you've
got no
choice
but to
learn to
live
with it,
John,
because
it won't
be going
anywhere,"
Carson
told him
firmly.
"You
don't
know
what it
damn
well
feels
like!"
"No, I
don't.
That's
not to
say I've
never
had
moments
of
romantic
despair,"
Carson
grinned,
"But no.
I've
never
experienced
what
you're
going
through,
but I do
know you
can
control
it."
"How?"
John
asked
bleakly.
"Damn
it,
Carson,
what's
happening
to me?
Why do I
feel
like
this?"
Carson
gazed at
him for
a moment
and then
burst
out
laughing.
John
glared
at him.
"I'm
sorry,
laddie,"
Carson
sighed,
shaking
his
head. "I
didn't
realise.
You
don't
know, do
you,
John?"
"Know
what?"
John
gazed at
him
blankly.
"You're
in love,
John.
That's
what
you're
feeling.
You told
me that
you'd
never
been in
love
before –
well,
this is
how it
feels
for
you."
"I'm in
love?
With
Rodney?"
John
looked
so
surprised
that
Carson
had to
bite on
his lip
to stop
himself
laughing
again.
"Yes,
John.
With
Rodney,"
he
grinned.
"I know
he's not
someone
you'd
probably
actually
*choose*,
but it
seems as
if your
heart's
ignoring
your
brain on
this
because
you are
head
over
heels in
love
with
him. I
suspect
you have
been for
some
time but
just
didn't
want to
face up
to it
until
events
forced
you to
sit up,
and take
notice.
And to
be
honest,
I think
your
brain's
got it
wrong
because
you and
Rodney
would
make a
good
couple.
You're
calm -
well,
usually
anyway -
and he's
excitable.
He's
smart -
but
you're
smart
enough
to keep
up with
him,
which
god
knows he
needs.
You're
laidback
enough
not to
crush
all the
spirit
out of
him, and
he's
interesting
enough
to keep
you
always
entertained."
"He's
also
arrogant,
argumentative,
and
sarcastic,"
John
pointed
out.
"Aye,
and
loyal,
brave,
and
funny,"
Carson
replied.
John
sighed
and
buried
his head
in his
hands.
"Did you
think it
was just
a sex
thing?"
Carson
asked.
"That
all you
had to
do was
fuck him
and then
you'd
feel all
right
again?"
"I don't
know. I
didn't
know
what was
wrong
with me.
I just
knew I
had all
these…goddamn
*feelings*
and they
wouldn't
go away.
You sure
there's
nothing
you can
give me
for
this,
Doc?" He
gave
Carson a
hopeless
kind of
smile.
"I'm
afraid I
can
think of
only one
cure,
laddie,"
Carson
grinned,
patting
his arm
affectionately.
John
shook
his head
and
groaned.
"He'll
barely
speak to
me," he
sighed.
"I just
broke
him with
a
punishment
I'm sure
he feels
he
didn't
deserve,
he's
just
been
relentlessly
pursued
by an
abusive
top who
wouldn't
take no
for an
answer,
and he's
told me
point
blank he
likes
being
single
and he
doesn't
want,
and I
quote,
'some
stupid
dominant
marching
around
giving
me
orders'.
What the
hell
chance
do I
have of
changing
his
mind?"
"Well…I
know
you've
not had
much
experience
in this
field,
but
speaking
as one
not as
naturally
gifted
in the
looks
department,
or as
effortlessly
charismatic
as
yourself,
I can
tell you
that
romancing
a sub is
an art
form of
and by
itself,
and one
I'd be
happy to
give you
some
pointers
in,"
Carson
said.
"Romancing?"
John
raised
an
eyebrow.
"Aye,"
Carson
grinned.
"I know,
it's a
whole
new
world
for you,
laddie.
They
usually
fall at
your
feet in
droves,
but this
particular
sub will
be worth
the
effort,
I'm
sure."
"How do
you know
that?"
John
asked.
"Because
you love
him."
Carson
shrugged.
"It's as
simple
as
that."
"Supposing
I'm crap
at this
romancing
thing?"
John
asked,
and
Carson
smiled
to
himself
because
he'd
never
have
thought
that
John
Sheppard
of all
people
would
lack
confidence
in
affairs
of the
heart.
"Supposing
he turns
me down,
Carson?
Supposing
I can
never
have
him?"
His
voice
broke a
little
as he
said
that.
"Then
you'll
have to
live
with
that,"
Carson
shrugged.
"The
days are
long
gone
when a
top
could
just
claim an
un-collared
sub and
take
them by
force."
"I'd
never
force
anyone!"
John
said, in
an angry
tone.
"Calm
down,
laddie.
I know
that."
Carson
patted
John's
arm
again.
"But as
for
Rodney
turning
you down
- why
would
he?
You're a
good-looking
man and
most of
the subs
on this
base
would
offer
themselves
to you
given
half the
chance.
You just
have to
work at
it.
You've
already
won his
trust,
John -
I've
seen the
way he
looks at
you, and
he might
fight it
but he
has
learned
to trust
you. Now
you have
to court
him."
"Court
him? Who
says
that any
more,
Carson?"
John
grinned,
shaking
his
head.
"Well,
I'm
Scottish,
and my
mam
often
talked
of
courting
my dad.
I like
it,"
Carson
replied,
smiling.
John's
grin
faded,
and he
looked
thoughtful.
"Okay.
I'll
court
him, for
want of
a better
word,
Carson.
I'll do
anything
it
takes. I
want him
- not
just for
a quick
fuck but
for
good.
I've
never
put a
collar
on
anyone,
never
shared a
plate,
or done
any of
those
things.
I've
never
*wanted*
to -
but…I
want to
with
Rodney."
John
shook
his
head,
looking
somewhat
amazed
by this
revelation.
Carson
smiled.
"Aye,
well,
love can
take the
best of
us by
surprise,
lad," he
said,
feeling
a little
pang,
and
suddenly
envying
his
friend
his new
found
love.
Was
there
anyone
out
there
for
*him* he
wondered?
He'd
taken
subs
before,
many of
them,
had even
fallen
in love
with
some of
them,
and had
his
heart
broken
by a
couple
of them,
but he'd
never
found
the
right
person.
Someone
to
settle
down and
grow old
with.
Someone
to put
his
collar
on and
share a
plate
with.
He'd
always
hoped
he'd get
married
one day
but he
was
getting
older
and
there
was no
sign of
anyone
on the
horizon.
He
wasn't
looking
for the
perfect
sub -
just the
perfect
sub for
*him*.
He
sighed.
"You
know,
John,
you have
no idea
how
lucky
you
are," he
said.
"You
might be
hurting
right
now but
you can
make
this
come
right."
"You
won't
tell
Rodney?"
There
was a
note of
anxiety
in
John's
voice.
"No. I
won't
tell
anyone.
Now…it's
getting
late and
I think
we both
need
some
sleep.
Do you
trust
yourself
to go
back to
your
room and
get some
rest?"
John
took a
deep
breath,
and then
nodded.
"Any
problems,
just
call
me."
Carson
gestured
to his
headset
which
was
lying on
the
nightstand.
John got
up. "I
will.
And…thanks,
Carson,"
he said
awkwardly.
Carson
just
shook
his head
and
pulled
the
colonel
into a
brief
hug
before
releasing
him and
booting
him out
of the
door.
~*~
John
returned
to his
quarters
feeling
much
happier
than he
had
before
he'd
gone to
see
Carson.
So, he
was in
love. At
least
that
made
sense of
all the
wild
emotions
he
seemed
to be
experiencing,
and at
least he
had a
chance
of doing
something
about
it. He
thought
of
Rodney,
wondering
what it
would be
like to
claim
the
scientist
for his
own, to
quell
those
restless
hands by
placing
them in
cuffs,
and to
silence
those
endlessly
talking
lips
with a
long,
deep
kiss.
John had
topped
many
subs in
his
time,
but he'd
never
claimed
one for
his own,
or
demanded
any kind
of
submission
outside
the
duration
of a sex
game.
He'd
never
wanted
to,
never
been
remotely
interested
in
assuming
all the
responsibilities
and
pleasures
that
came
from
putting
a collar
on
another
human
being.
He
thought
he was a
good top
- he
knew
tricks
that
made his
subs
sigh
with
pleasure
and kiss
his feet
in
gratitude,
but he'd
always
kind of
played
at it
before.
This was
different.
This
felt
serious.
This
went way
beyond
sex and
into new
territory
completely,
and he
didn't
want to
screw it
up.
He
wanted
Rodney
but he
wanted
his
heart
and soul
as well
as his
body. He
wanted
to see
those
blue
eyes
gaze up
at him
with
trust,
love,
and
affection,
and he
knew
this was
too
important
to fuck
up by
moving
too
fast, or
demanding
too
much,
too
soon.
Rodney
was
special.
He
wasn't
the easy
lay John
was used
to. He'd
need
time,
need to
be
gentled
like a
spirited
colt,
need to
be loved
into
submission.
That's
where
Bates
had got
it all
so very
wrong.
Rodney
couldn't
be
harried
or
coerced
- he had
to be
won,
like the
prize he
was, and
John was
determined
that
he'd do
it,
however
long it
took.
One day
he'd
take
Rodney
McKay to
his bed
and make
him his,
and if
it was
the
hardest
thing he
ever did
he
didn't
care
because
it was
also the
most
important
thing
he'd
ever do,
and he'd
damn
well do
it
right.
John
went
over to
his
closet
and took
out a
small
box.
He'd
carried
it on
all his
postings
but
hadn't
looked
at it in
years.
His
fathers
had
given it
to him
on his
twenty-first
birthday,
just a
few
weeks
before
they'd
died.
John
thought
of
Rodney,
losing
both his
parents
at an
even
younger
age, and
he
wondered
if that
accounted
for some
of his
attraction
to the
brilliant
if
wayward
scientist.
It was
something
they had
in
common,
and
although
John
suspected
they
came
from
very
different
families,
it gave
them a
kind of
connection.
John
opened
up the
box and
looked
at the
collar
lying
inside
on a bed
of silk.
It
wasn't a
wedding
collar -
you
would
only
ever
fashion
a
wedding
collar
for your
sub's
specific
measurements
and to
your own
personal
tastes -
but it
was a
commitment
collar.
Some
people
might
call it
a
training
collar
but John
had
never
liked
that
term. If
he ever
put a
collar
on a sub
it
wouldn’t
be to
train
them –
it would
be to
show
them
they
were
loved,
and to
show the
world
who they
belonged
to,
making
it clear
to other
tops
that
this
particular
sub was
most
definitely
not
unclaimed.
The
collar
was a
thick
strip of
white
gold,
sturdy
enough
to take
a leash
if you
wanted
to
attach
one, but
slim
enough
to lie
easily
against
the
neck.
Commitment
collars
took
many
forms,
but this
one was
a very
fine
piece of
jewellery.
John
slid his
fingers
over the
collar,
caressing
it. He'd
never
taken
much
interest
in it
before,
perhaps
because
he'd
never
been
remotely
interested
in
collaring
a sub
before.
Putting
a collar
on a sub
was a
huge
deal and
it
wasn't
anything
John had
ever
fantasised
about.
In his
view it
was
mainly
subs
that
made a
big
issue
out of
being
collared,
and he
could
point to
a
plethora
of
movies
on the
subject
to prove
his
point,
but now,
for the
first
time in
his
life, he
suddenly
wondered
what it
would be
like to
place
his
collar
around a
sub's
neck and
have the
right to
claim
that sub
as his
own. He
had a
mental
image of
Rodney,
kneeling
in front
of him,
blue
eyes
gazing
sweetly
up at
him, and
he
shivered,
surprised
by the
raw
force of
his own
sexual
response
to that
image.
He knew
that one
of his
own
fathers
- his
biological
father,
Adam -
had worn
this
collar,
briefly,
before
accepting
his
other
father's
wedding
collar.
John
hadn't
thought
about
his
parents
for a
long
time,
not
because
he
hadn't
loved
them but
because
their
loss
still
hurt in
some
place
deep
inside.
He
thought
he'd
walled
off that
part of
his
heart
until
tonight,
outside
in the
dark and
the
rain,
when
he'd
come to
understand
that
there
were
some
emotions
you
could
never
outdistance,
no
matter
how fast
or how
far you
ran.
He
remembered
Adam -
tall and
dark
haired,
with an
impish
grin
that
charmed
everyone
except
his
other
father,
Gil, who
would
see
through
it,
shake
his
head,
pull
Adam
close,
and
scold
him
while
laughing
affectionately
the
whole
time.
Gil had
been
broad
and
blond,
muscular
and
stocky.
The
Sheppards
were an
old,
military
family,
and they
did
things
the
time-honoured
way,
opting
for only
the most
traditional
of
marriages
and
living
their
lives by
the vows
they
made to
each
other.
They had
met in
the
military
when
Adam had
been a
raw
recruit,
eighteen
years
old and
full of
potential,
and Gil
was his
lieutenant,
four
years'
older,
with an
outer
toughness
that hid
a kind
heart
because
he was
the
gentlest
man John
had ever
known.
It had
been a
love
match
that
never
wavered
in the
thirty
years
they
were
together,
right up
until
their
deaths.
The
mission
they'd
been on
was
classified,
and to
this day
John had
never
uncovered
the full
details,
but he
did know
that
Adam's
unit had
gone
missing
behind
enemy
lines,
and Gil
had gone
back for
him. The
Sheppards
never
left
anyone
behind -
it was
the
golden
rule
that
John had
been
brought
up with.
Gil had
been
injured
in the
rescue
attempt
and Adam
had
carried
him
home,
desperately
trying
to keep
him
alive
through
the
lifebond
they
shared.
Gil had
fought
to live,
but he
had
massive
internal
injuries
and he'd
died in
Adam's
arms in
the
hospital.
Nobody
knew
precisely
how the
lifebond
worked,
whether
it was
the
shock of
its loss
that
killed
the
surviving
partner,
or
whether
the bond
was so
strong
they had
no
choice
but to
follow
their
bonded
mate
into
death,
but Adam
had died
just
moments
later,
lying on
Gil's
hospital
bed,
their
bodies
entwined.
They had
been
buried
together
at
Arlington.
John
fingered
the
collar
thoughtfully.
The pain
of his
loss
still
hurt,
even
after a
lifetime
of
suppressing
it, and
John
realised
now why
he never
looked
at this
collar.
He
hadn't
understood
how love
could be
so
strong
that a
person
could
die of
its
loss.
Secretly,
John had
always
wondered
whether
it was
essentially
selfish
to
lifebond
with
another
-
especially
when you
had a
child.
True,
he'd
been
technically
an adult
when his
parents
had
died,
but he
had
still
felt
that his
heart
had been
ripped
out of
his
body,
leaving
him raw
with
pain.
John had
always
distrusted
love
after
that,
fighting
shy of
any
emotion
that
could
leave
such
devastation
in his
wake.
He'd
joined
the
Airforce,
because
he
couldn't
imagine
doing
anything
else,
but he
tried
not to
think
about
the men
who had
loved
and
raised
him, and
had
avoided
loving
anyone
else
since
their
deaths,
wanting
to spare
himself
the pain
that
came
with
losing
people
you care
about so
much.
Only
love had
found
him
anyway,
and he
was
discovering
that it
hurt
every
bit as
much as
he'd
always
feared -
but also
that it
brought
with it
an
intoxication
all of
its own.
John
replaced
the
collar
gently
in its
box, and
instead
of
putting
it back
in the
closet,
he
placed
it on
his
nightstand,
where he
could
see it.
It was
time, he
thought.
Past
time,
maybe.
In his
mind's
eye he
could
see both
his
fathers
playing
with him
in the
park. He
could
see Gil
throwing
him into
the air
and
catching
him
safely
in his
strong
hands,
and
remembered
how
Adam's
dark
hair
would
flop
into his
eyes as
he bent
to scoop
a
giggling
John
into his
arms.
John
thought
about
the way
that Gil
would
always
wrap his
arm
around
Adam's
waist
and
slide
his hand
down the
back of
his
jeans
and just
rest it
there,
laying
claim to
him, and
making
sure the
world
knew who
he
belonged
to, and
his
heart
suddenly
ached.
Damnit,
he
*missed*
them.
But that
was only
one part
of the
ache -
the
other
part,
both
more
urgent
and more
painful,
was the
knowledge
that he
wanted
that
kind of
love for
himself.
John
took off
the
clothes
he'd
borrowed
from
Carson
and slid
into
bed,
feeling
surprisingly
calm and
relaxed.
Now he
*knew*
what was
going on
for him
he could
stop
fighting
it and
just
think
about
how good
it would
feel to
curl his
fingers
in
Rodney's
soft
hair, to
press
his lips
against
Rodney's
crooked
mouth,
and to
sink his
cock
into
Rodney's
beautiful
round
ass. He
remembered
that ass
lying
over his
lap just
a few
short
hours
ago, how
he'd
wanted
to
stroke
and
caress
it, and
how
right
Rodney
had felt
bent
over his
knee,
submissive
and
accepting,
and he
went to
sleep
with a
smile
curving
on his
lips.
He was
woken,
several
hours
later,
by an
urgent
knocking
on the
door and
he got
up and
staggered,
bleary-eyed,
to open
it.
Carson
was
standing
there, a
worried
look in
his blue
eyes.
"Is
Rodney
in
here?"
he
asked,
glancing
over
John's
shoulder
at the
empty
bed
behind
him.
"I'm
afraid
not."
John
frowned.
"Why?
Has
something
happened
to him?"
"I don't
know. I
went to
his room
as soon
as I
thought
he'd be
up - he
keeps
some
very
strange
hours -
but
there
was
nobody
there. I
went to
the lab,
the mess
hall…kept
trying
on his
radio
but
there's
no
reply.
After
what you
told me
about
what
happened
last
night…I'm
a wee
bit
worried
about
him."
Carson's
forehead
was
wrinkled
up in
concern,
and John
felt his
stomach
do a
little
flip. If
anything
had
happened
to
Rodney….
He
turned
and
grabbed
his own
radio
from the
nightstand
to check
first of
all that
Bates
was
accounted
for, but
he was
told
that the
corporal
hadn't
left his
room all
night.
"Where
can he
be?"
Carson
fretted,
pacing
the room
frantically
while
John
pulled
on his
BDUs.
"I don't
know."
John
shook
his head
furiously.
"I
should
have
checked
on him
last
night. I
was
going to
but you
said he
was
okay…."
"I
thought
he was!"
John
growled.
"I went
to see
him and
he bit
my head
off as
usual.
No
change
there."
"We
should
have
thought
though,"
Carson
sighed.
"I
know."
John was
kicking
himself
over and
over
again.
He knew
what a
proud
man
Rodney
was, and
first
he'd
broken
down his
barriers
with
that
punishment,
forcing
him to
give in
and cry
which
must
have
been the
last
thing he
wanted
to do,
and then
he'd
witnessed
that
grotesque
scene
with
Bates
and that
obscene
training
collar….
It would
hardly
be
surprising
if
Rodney
had felt
unable
to cope
with the
evening's
events
but…where
would he
go?
John
finished
dressing
and then
ran down
the
hallway
towards
Rodney's
quarters,
with
Carson
hard on
his
heels.
He
easily
opened
the door
with a
mental
flick
and
charged
inside…and
then
stopped.
Rodney
wasn't a
very
tidy
person,
and his
room was
strewn
with
laptops
and page
upon
page of
notes.
There
was a
Rodney-sized
dent on
the
middle
of the
clearly
un-slept
in bed,
and
dozens
of
sheets
of paper
lying on
the
floor.
John
frowned
and
picked
up the
notes
from the
floor.
"Looks
like he
was
lying
here,
hanging
over the
end of
the bed,
working
on
these,"
John
said.
"Aye,
and no
doubt
into the
early
hours if
I know
Rodney,"
Carson
said,
peering
over
John's
shoulders
to read
the
notes.
"These
are the
transcripts
he took
off that
temple,"
John
said
slowly.
"When
Rodney
is
really
in a bad
way he
has a
tendency
to throw
himself
into his
work and
try and
block
everything
else
out,"
Carson
said,
glancing
around
the
room,
looking
for more
clues.
"Perhaps
we
should
get
Radek to
decipher
the
notes?"
he
suggested
to John.
John
shook
his
head. It
wasn't
easy
following
Rodney's
scrawl,
but he
wasn't
stupid,
and he
got the
gist of
what was
in them.
"Oh
shit,"
he said,
stuffing
the
notes in
his
pocket
and
running
for the
door.
"What is
it? What
did you
find?"
Carson
said,
running
after
him.
"Rodney
thinks
he's
found
the
location
of a
ZPM,"
John
said, as
he ran
for the
gateroom.
"But…are
you
saying…surely…he
wouldn't
have
gone
there…alone?"
Carson
puffed.
"Why
would he
do
that?"
"Because
everything
fell
apart
for him
last
night,
and
this…this
was his
way of
trying
to piece
some of
himself
back
together
again,"
John
said
grimly.
They got
to the
gateroom
and John
ran up
the
stairs
two at a
time to
find the
nightwatch
gate
technicians
sitting
at their
post.
"Have
you seen
Dr
McKay?"
he
demanded.
They
looked
at each
other,
and then
back at
him.
"Yes,
sir. He
went
through
the
gate,"
one of
them
offered,
stammering
slightly
in the
face of
John’s
brusque
and
agitated
manner.
"When?"
John
demanded.
"About
four
hours
ago,
sir,"
the
other
one
said.
"And you
didn't
think
that was
odd?"
John
growled.
"That
he'd go
through
the gate
in the
middle
of the
night?"
"Well,
it was
Dr
McKay,"
the
first
one
muttered.
"And
everyone
knows he
does
weird
shit."
"He had
security
clearance,"
the
second
one
added.
"It's
not up
to us to
tell a
senior
member
of this
expedition
that he
can't go
through
the
gate."
"And we
have
protocols,"
John
fumed.
"Lady
Elizabeth
approves
all
offworld
trips."
"Dr
McKay
was very
insistent,"
the
first
one
said,
looking
panicked.
"Plus…he
kind of
yelled
at us,"
said the
second.
"And you
know how
he can
be when
he does
that."
John
sighed.
Yeah, he
knew
just how
Dr
Rodney
McKay in
full
sarcasm
mode
must
have
come
over to
these
two.
"Have
you
heard
from him
since
then?"
Carson
asked,
coming
up
behind
John and
putting
a hand
on
John's
shoulder,
calming
him. The
technicians
looked
at each
other
blankly.
"He
called
to say
he was
through
okay,"
one of
them
said.
"And
you've
heard
nothing
since?"
It was
all John
could do
not to
grab
them
both by
their
shirts
and bang
their
heads
together.
He liked
working
with
scientists
but god
knows he
sometimes
wondered
how they
got by
with so
little
common
sense.
"Um…no,"
they
replied,
looking
a little
sheepish.
"Dial up
his
destination.
We're
going
through,"
John
said,
turning.
"Aye,
that we
are,"
Carson
said.
"And let
Elizabeth
know
what's
happening,
lads -
okay?"
"And if
we don't
call in
every
hour, on
the
hour,
then for
god's
sakes
get
Lorne to
send a
unit of
marines
after
us!"
John
snapped,
running
for the
gate.
"Just a
second,
Colonel.
I'm not
going
offworld
without
a
medical
kit,"
Carson
said,
trotting
down the
steps
towards
the
storage
hatch
where
they
kept
emergency
offworld
provisions.
John
growled,
hating
any
delay,
but
Carson
was
right,
and he
waited,
impatiently,
by the
gate, as
Carson
grabbed
a kit
and
checked
the
contents.
John
tried to
keep a
tight
clamp on
his
emotions,
recognising
that if
he
wasn't
careful
they
could
spiral
out of
control,
as they
had the
previous
evening,
and he
took a
few deep
breaths,
trying
to
focus.
He'd be
no good
to
Rodney
if he
was all
over the
place,
and, as
Carson
had so
rightly
pointed
out, he
had to
learn
how to
live
with all
these
new
feelings,
had to
master
them and
make
them
work for
him, or
he'd end
up being
a total
mess.
Finally,
Carson
was
ready,
and he
took his
place by
John's
side, a
grim but
determined
look on
his
face.
John
remembered
how
little
Carson
liked
going
through
the
wormhole,
and he
knew
that
only the
thought
of
Rodney
being in
danger
was
spurring
the
doctor
on right
now.
They ran
through
the
gate,
and John
immediately
tapped
his
radio.
"Rodney?"
he
yelled.
It was
night on
the
planet,
and the
trees
were
swaying
in a
high
wind,
making
the
whole
place
seem
eerie.
The
radio
crackled
but
there
was no
reply.
"Sounds
like…"
Carson
hesitated,
frowning,
concentrating
on the
sound.
"Sounds
like
someone
tried to
reply
but the
signal's
not
getting
through,
yes,"
John
agreed.
"Rodney?"
He tried
again,
to be
greeted
by
another
burst of
static
that
might,
just,
have
been the
sound of
someone's
voice.
John
pulled
out his
lifesigns
detector
but all
he could
see were
a series
of
blurry
dots
that
merged
into one
another.
"Electrical
storm!"
Carson
yelled
over the
sound of
the wind
and
rain.
"Yeah.
Then
we're
going to
have to
do this
the hard
way,"
John
yelled
back,
pulling
out the
sheaf of
papers
from his
jacket
pocket.
There
wasn't
much to
go on,
and John
guessed
that
Rodney
had
taken
the most
relevant
papers
with
him, but
he was
at least
confident
of the
general
direction
to head
in. They
half-walked,
half-ran
through
the
storm,
with
John
pausing
to tap
his
radio
every
few
strides.
After a
couple
of miles
of this,
John
paused,
picking
up a
faint
response
in his
ear.
"Rodney?"
Static.
And
then,
faintly.
"…ruins
we…east…shit…ow,
ow…."
"Rodney?!"
John
roared
over the
sound of
the wind
in the
trees.
"That
was
definitely
him,"
Carson
said.
"Sounds
like his
radio
isn't
working
properly."
"Or
something's
interfering
with the
signal -
maybe
the
closer
we are
to him
the
better
we'll be
able to
hear
him,"
John
replied.
"It
sounded
like he
was
telling
us to go
east of
the
ruined
temple."
"Could
be -
it's all
we've
got to
go on,"
Carson
shrugged.
They
turned
and
headed
east,
with
John
keeping
the
radio
channel
open the
entire
time.
The
signal
grew
stronger
as they
jogged.
"Rodney?
Come on,
buddy,
keep
talking,"
John
yelled,
fighting
to be
heard
over the
driving
wind. He
didn't
damn
well
fall in
love
with
someone
just to
lose him
before
he'd
even had
a chance
to kiss
him!
That was
not damn
well
going to
happen!
"…Colonel…found…then…stupid…fell…dark…stupid…."
"Do you
have a
gun?"
John
shouted
into the
radio,
hoping
that
Rodney
could
hear him
better
than he
could
hear
Rodney.
"If so,
fire it
up into
the air,
away
from
you."
They
paused,
and a
few
seconds
later
they
heard a
faint
sound in
the
distance.
John
broke
into a
run,
heading
towards
the
sound,
his
heart
pounding
in his
chest.
He
jumped
over
fallen
tree
trunks,
and
ducked
under
branches,
running
as fast
as he
could,
panicked
by the
thought
of
Rodney
lying
injured
somewhere.
He
paused
for a
moment,
and
called |