Perchance To Dream 2

This Weak And Idle Theme

by custardpringle

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asc/cpringle/percha02.php
Summary: For all Rodney knows, this is just another way for the Ancients to test his maturity.

Rodney wanders into the nearest empty lab, checks a calendar, and learns that he's been gone for over three months. He is saddened, but not surprised.

Then again, nothing really surprises him any more, not even that after three months of hellish misery he's suddenly been ejected back into the real world.

He hopes he has, anyway.

In the past three months, Rodney's discovered the hard way that-- despite their extraordinary level of technological development-- the Ancients still hung on to the oh-so-primitive custom of sending their kds on dream quests to prove their adulthood. They just used computers instead of mushrooms.

Of course, Rodney was undoubtedly an adult already, but the programming in question either couldn't tell or decided not to tell. And if by any chance he was still somehow immature, he figures he sure as hell isn't now.

The whole thing's really just a glorified form of emotional abuse. The computer's thrown one crisis at him after another. It's killed his friends, it's forced him to kill his friends, it's turned them against him. it's done everything possible to try to drive him insane and then, presumably, analyzed his reactions to determine whether he's fit to be part of Ancient society.

The worst of it was John, naturally. Rodney's seen his lover killed, raped, and tortured so many times int he last three months that he's afraid once more will make him believe it.

In fact, even as Rodney makes a beeline for John's room-- the one they share, or used to-- he's almost scared to go in, because he doesn't know what he'll find. The room might be empty, John dead or missing like Rodney himself. On the other hand, someone else might have moved in with him.

Essentially, he doesn't know what the computer-- or, worse, the real world-- is about to throw at him.

But what Rodney wants most right now is normality, or at least a pretense thereof. He's willing to risk a lot of pain to attempt it.

He barely even hesitates before opening John's door with the fleetest of thoughts.

The light from the hallway is just enough to show him that the bed has one occupant-- no more, no less. The figure stirs, but whether in sleeping or waking Rodney can't tell.

He enters the room, shutting the door behind him, and sits down gently on the edge of the bed. "John? Are you awake?"

John is awake, and enough so to recognize that something's off. "It's not you," he says hoarsely. "You're not coming back, I'm dreaming, this isn't real--"

Which is uncomfortably close to Rodney's own fears, so he leans down and kisses John, needing to cut off the train of thought as much as he needs the kiss itself. "Maybe not," he agrees, trying to make it sound like a joke. "But we can always pretend."

Then there's nothing left to say-- just John pulling him in under the covers, and kissing and touching and everything fast and desperate because they're trying to make up for three long empty months, all at once.

And then, afterwards, John asks what Rodney's been wondering: "What if I wake up?"

"It doesn't matter," Rodney tells him. "I'll still be here when you do."

He only wishes he could be sure of it.

THE END

Next: And All Is Mended