The Glowing Of The Shrew

by Cynical_Coat & Ellex

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/ase/ellex/shrew.php
Summary: She's baaaaack! Chaya wants a lot more from Sheppard and McKay than they're willing to give, but how can they convince her to leave them alone?
Info: Part 4: If you don't take into account the fact that all of this is my fault, I blame this small part completely and utterly (not to mention totally) on Ellex. Having Chaya say 'No one rejects pleasure when it is offered freely' put me in mind of the fact that one might reject pleasure if, say, the price was too steep? It was just too good an idea to pass up, so I ran with it. - Cynical

Part 6: My sincerest apologies to the late great Douglas Adams for appropriating and mangling the title of his wonderful book.
Eternal gratitude goes to the brilliant and talented Kamelion for telling me how the final confrontation should go. Without her excellent advice, I'd still be stuck in the diner.
This isn't exactly an SG-1 crossover, and I don't think you need to be familiar with it, but parts of this refer to the SG-1 episode 8.18 'Threads'. There's also a reference to the SGA Season 1 episode 'Home' - Ellex

Part 7: The end of this story would not have been possible without the brilliant and generous help of Kamelion, who literally told me exactly how the plot should resolve. It's entirely my fault that it took so long to actually write it. I mean it, Kam - I owe you.
A big thank you to Cynical Coat, for jumping into my twisted little idea so enthusiastically and making this so much more than one little piece of smutty tentacle!sex PWP. I'm sorry that you didn't have the time to write the ending - I would have loved to see what you came up with. On the other hand, I'm kind of glad to have written it myself - Ellex

Part 1: Glowy Squid Porn

He was floating.

He was somewhere between sleeping and waking, not quite one or the other: aware of himself, but too deep for thought. He knew he shouldn't be floating, that he should be snugged under blankets, feel the pillow under his head, but he was comfortable and so close to slipping back into deep slumber.

A touch ghosted across his lips, feather-light and near insubstantial. He opened his mouth and the tip of tongue was touched by something soft and cool. He inhaled and tasted a scent of green, growing things, just a little earthy. The touch skimmed his lips again and drifted down over his neck, across his collarbone, to the raised nipple. The nub was sensitive enough on it's own, and the cool touch firmed and inflamed it. He tried to push up against it, but there was nothing to brace himself against as the other nipple was teased with the same ghostly sensation.

When it moved across his belly the touch warmed and he felt like he was being stroked by something fragile and velvety like a rose petal. When it reached his stirring penis it felt more like fur or hair, the individual strands so fine and soft he could hardly feel them. It swept slowly over him, moving his own pubic hairs, and he could feel himself growing and hardening. His hips moved and thrust, but it got him no closer to the feathery touch that was now tickling his balls.

It swept over his ass now, warming the cheeks, but a thin line trickled down the crack like a drop of ice water, making him shiver when it reached the tight pucker. Something pressed there, solid and real, and he clenched around it involuntarily. His breath was starting to come faster now, his heart beating harder.

The furry sensation kept ghosting over his cock, now fully hard and beginning to leak from the tip, but it was the touch on his ass that his entire being seemed to be concentrated on. It had gone from solid to insubstantial, tickling the soft, wrinkled skin there. He gasped when it moved from the outside of his body to the inside without having to open the tight ring of muscle at his entrance. When it nudged the gland farther up, his entire body went rigid for a moment, then relaxed completely. He opened easily and the touch solidified again, stretching him wider without resistance, filling him with something exquisitely firm and smooth.

He tried to push back against it, drive it further up inside him, back to that tiny nub deep in his channel, but he was still floating and his movements were ineffectual. He moaned in frustration, then again in pleasure when it quivered in him like a live thing, pulsating and rippling within him.

And now the millions of thin strands that wafted over his straining and weeping cock wrapped around it with a heat that was both soothing and searing. He would have come right then but it gripped him firmly, not just his aching member but the taut sac beneath, and held him back. He tried again to thrust, forward or backward – it didn't matter which, striving for release, but found himself no longer floating but held completely immobile, his entire body contained by something his skin couldn't feel. His muscles strained, tensed, but couldn't move him at all. He couldn't even open his eyes.

The warmth around his cock flexed slightly, a tiny pressure tracing from the base up to the copiously leaking tip. At the same time, the fullness in his ass lengthened until it nudged his prostate. He heard a whimper escape from his throat as it shrank and grew and shrank again, rhythmically stroking the gland and sending lightning bolts through every nerve in his groin. The grip on his cock tightened briefly before becoming a shimmering friction that made him cry out and every muscle in his body shiver.

The friction turned into an intermittent pulse that matched his pounding heartbeat and alternated with the strange thrust in his anus. They met and combined deep inside him, creating a continuous wave of sensation that rippled through his entire body, intensified by his enforced immobility. He tried frantically to relieve the almost unbearable stimulation by thrusting and bucking his hips, but was still held firmly and implacably.

Just when he thought he would go insane if he couldn't move, an unexpected stroke across both of his nipples sent him over the edge, and he was suddenly able to arch his back, throw his arms out, fling his head back as he came explosively. His orgasm seemed to go on and on, each burning jet of semen accompanied by a jolt of pure pleasure.

Finally it was over, and he went limp, weightless and floating again. The thing stretching his ass began to shrink, dissolving into the near-insubstantial touch again. He moaned unhappily at the unwelcome emptiness, the muscles clenching and unclenching with nothing to hold on to, then sighed with pleasure as it returned, filling him again with it's smooth warmth. It wasn't quite as big as before, and didn't reach his prostate, so he could relax around it and allow the rings of muscle to grip it comfortably.

Sated beyond anything he'd ever felt before, he let his exhaustion pull him into a deep sleep.

When he woke again, he was back in his own bed. He could feel the fuzzy surface of the blanket rub his arm, the smooth cotton of the pillowcase against his cheek. He stretched slowly and carefully, working the slight stiffness out of his muscles. He opened his eyes and sat bolt upright, scrambling back against the headboard, clutching the blankets around his nakedness.

He wasn't sure for a moment what was more disturbing: the sight of Chaya sitting on the end of his bed, or his own nudity when he knew he'd been wearing boxers and a T-shirt when he'd gone to bed. And when the messages his body was sending to his brain finally filtered in and told him about the vague ache in his ass that meant he'd been well-fucked recently, it all became horribly clear.

But he took a deep breath, reminded himself of who he was, and said with only a slight tremor in his voice, "You! You – what did you do to me?"

She smiled. "We shared. You were not an unwilling participant. And much more satisfactory than Major Sheppard."

"Not unwilling?!" Then her words sank in and Rodney's outrage disappeared. "Better than Sheppard? Really? But – he has the gene naturally, and he's – he's so – and I'm not – "

She just looked at him and he stuttered to a halt.

"He is closer to my kind than you, and sharing with him was a more intimate experience. But he would not have been comfortable with everything you and I did. John is a little more – shall we say, inhibited? I craved simple pleasure, and sensed that you would be more open to it than he. You did enjoy yourself, didn't you, Doctor McKay?" This was less a question than a statement, and despite his uneasiness with the situation, he *had* enjoyed himself very much indeed.

"Will you – um, be back?" he asked hesitantly, not sure what answer he wanted to hear.

She shook her head. "I was permitted to come to you this once for my own need, and as a gift to you – an apology, if you will, for deceiving you."

"Oh. Well, ah, you're forgiven, I guess."

White light flared from her, and she dissolved into glowing brightness, floating above his bed. Sinuous tendrils drifted gently around him, and several passed right through him, drawing a gasp at the feather-soft touch that skated over his skin and fluttered deep inside him. For just a moment he was floating again, and then she was gone.

Rodney was left to glumly contemplate his half-hard penis, not quite ready to go again after it's previous endeavors. Then a happy thought made an extremely satisfied smile bloom on his face.

"Better than Sheppard," he said to himself, then crawled out of bed and headed for the shower.

Part 2: The Morning After in Bangkok

Rodney left his room in high good humor, an added spring in his step. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd felt this damn good. About himself, about life, about the multiverse at large.

And to think... all it took was a surprise booty call by the gender transcending glowy priestess... he thought with a chuckle, not noticing the odd looks that those he passed exchanged with each other. He entered the nearly deserted commissary, immediately looking around to see if John was there... to his disappointment, the room was Major-free.

Not that I could tell him... not really... but still...

Better than Sheppard, she'd said.

Not just better... less inhibited.

And B-E-T-T-E-R. That sent a thrill through him, just as the slight, pleasant ache he still felt deep inside filled him with a secret excitement. He suddenly felt the need to discover something, a drive to solve a problem that had been eluding him. He felt like he could do anything he wanted to, things that would have proven impossible for him even just yesterday.

Never underestimate what a good lay will do for a man, genius or otherwise.

O~O~O

"Major!"

John turned to see Elizabeth waving him up into the Control Room, an agitated Dr. Zelenka at her side. Wondering what could have possibly gone wrong this early in the morning, especially with Rodney nowhere in sight, he sighed. He jogged up the stairs just in case it really was something important, but questioned the need when they both met him half-way.

"Morning, Elizabeth... What seems to be the trouble?"

"It's Rodney."

How did I know that? he thought wryly and crossed his arms.

"What's Mr. Wizard broken now?"

And why is it always my problem? he thought, but decided against adding aloud, when Liz shook her head.

"Nothing... this time." She nodded to Zelenka. "Radek said he was acting... odd."

John blinked at them in silence before grinning.

"How can you tell?"

"John, this is serious."

He composed himself, honestly becoming intrigued.

"Fine, I'll bite... odd how?"

"He's... He's..." Zelenka drew a deep breath. "He's being civil! Almost pleasant!"

John gasped, his eyes widening.

"That is serious..." When they just nodded and looked at him hopefully, he rolled his eyes. "Come on... it can't be that bad."

"He's being encouraging to Kavanaugh!"

"It'll pass," he replied with less conviction.

"Major, he's stopped snarking altogether. And he barely touched his coffee..."

John stared at them, nodding slowly once the shock subsided.

"I'll go talk to him..."

O~O~O

"Yo, Rodney," John said as he entered the strangely empty lab, sure that that would incite some kind of snarky rebuttal. "What's up?"

"Not much, Major. Just solving all our problems. Nothing big," Rodney replied with a grin that was little short of rapturous.

John hopped up onto the table next to Rodney's laptop, swinging his legs like a child, making sure to hit Rodney's chair on every pass.

"Is that all?"

Rodney just beamed at him and went back to work.

"Where is everybody? You scare them off again?" he asked, prodding Rodney in the shoulder with his index finger. He was rewarded by a brief flicker of annoyance, but it passed much too quickly.

"I told them to take a break," Rodney said, just as though that weren't totally against his standard operating procedure.

"You what?"

"They won't be any good to me or the city-- or themselves for that matter-- if they drive themselves into the ground."

"Who are you and what have you done with my Rodney?" John demanded, biting his tongue as he tried to retract the end of that. Rodney chuckled at him, still mostly focused on his work.

"There are those who'd beg to differ with you on that claim, Major."

John frowned, and then suddenly all the pieces fell into place.

"Rodney! You dog!" He punched Rodney playfully. "Who is she?"

"I beg your pardon?" Rodney asked, prim as you please, but his happy veneer was starting to wear thin.

"You got laid!"

"Excuse me, Major... but that's quite the assumption to leap to."

"It's true! You had sex... Our little Rodney's all grown up..."

"Oh, get over yourself already..." Rodney muttered, sounding more like his normal self with every syllable.

Victory!

"Come on, who is she?" He knew he was being obnoxious, but that was the point, wasn't it?

"If, and when, anything I do becomes your business, Major –" Rodney began, but he stopped abruptly, looking stricken. Something in that phrase pulled at John's memory, but before he could place it, Rodney was gone, the door whooshing shut behind him.

O~O~O

Shit.

Just couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he?

"Calm down, Rodney..." he muttered to himself, wringing his hands and trying not to glance over his shoulder. "Maybe he doesn't remember saying that... maybe he won't make the connection."

Right, and maybe he can't really solve complex equations in his head... maybe he was guessing...

Rodney could hear hurried footfalls behind him, and he didn't need to glance to know who it was.

Shit.

He walked a little faster, knowing that there was nowhere he could go that John wouldn't follow. The man was like a dog with a bone... or a ragdoll, when he finally pieced together all the little hints Rodney couldn't help but drop.

John had nearly figured it out during the whole Chaya episode, but extenuating circumstances--mostly the revelation that she really was an Ancient, and then the Wraith attacking Proculus-- had kept Rodney from making it painfully clear to John. To think, everyone had though he was jealous of *John*, when it was really Chaya that he'd have done nearly anything to switch places with.

...neither here nor there, Rodney... just hurry up or put up...

God, he hated it when he got nervous... he always started thinking in cliches...

"Rodney!"

Shit.

It was John. But he was almost there. He was nearly running as he reached his room, ducking inside and trying to lock the door behind him. John wasn't having any of that.

"Rodney."

Rodney turned slowly toward him, his face lacking the easy humor and relaxed patience of only a few minutes before. He was tired, and the faded memory of Chaya's touch was quickly becoming a bitter reminder of what was starting to feel like a betrayal. All he could think of was damage control; John had obviously figured everything out by now, so there was no point in lying. He just had to try to salvage as much as possible...

Which in no way explained him stepping forward, catching John by the back of the neck and pulling him into a bruising kiss. He wrapped his other arm around John's waist, holding him as tight and close as he could... if he was only going to get one shot at this, he was going to make it as memorable as possible. Especially if it was the last thing he was ever going to do.

Stop being so melodramatic... Rodney could hear the voice in his head roll it's eyes, but he wasn't paying very much attention to it, because John was thrusting his tongue into Rodney's mouth and his groin against Rodney's erection. The words 'does not compute' flashed through his mind, but they were drowned out as his desperate elation returned. Hands grabbed at him, roughly groping him and pressing him backwards until his shoulders collided with a wall, pain blooming in a way he welcomed as John's weight pushed heavily on his chest.

This was what had been missing from his encounter with Chaya... Sure, she was hot and knew how to play his body better than anyone ever had. Sure, she had fucked him more thoroughly than he had ever been fucked in his life. Sure, she had left him dazed enough that it had temporarily changed his outlook on life...

But she hadn't really touched him, not once.

She hadn't set him on fire with calloused fingers or made his lips throb from bites of passion.

She hadn't--

"Fuck," Rodney moaned as John's mouth tore away from his own and John dropped to his knees, fumbling and tearing at Rodney's pants, yanking them open. He hissed as John ran his tongue along the length of his cock before swallowing him whole. He carded his fingers through John's hair, losing himself in the texture and heat of the moment.

Not floating, though... definitely not floating. And how the hell had he thought that was better? To be detached, immobile, held in a limbo-like haze while someone else, someone dead, someone--

...someone not John... A small corner of his mind not completely lost to the world supplied, and he cried out, thrusting deeper into John's willing mouth. John gripped his hips savagely, but not to stop him... he seemed to be trying to draw more of Rodney into himself. His hands shifted, sliding over Rodney's hips, his fingers delving into the cleft of his ass, searching out his entrance and probing at it, pressing rhythmically against it as John swallowed. Rodney arched his back, coming violently down John's throat, darkness swirling around and within him as his need uncoiled and exploded, leaving him dizzy and...

"Damn... Rodney?"

His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at John's worried face, wondering vaguely when he had ended up on the floor.

"You okay?" John asked, and it took Rodney a moment to remember why his pants were open and John's lips looked so swollen...

"What happened?"

"You fa-- passed out from, ah, manly satisfaction..." John said with a smug grin.

"No... before that."

John frowned at him and then gestured toward Rodney's lap.

"The manly satisfaction..." His eyes narrowed and he reached out, running his fingers over the back of Rodney's head. "Are you alright? You didn't hit your head on the way down, did you?"

Rodney shook his head and tried to pull himself upright, steadying himself by holding onto John's shoulders. He was still a bit off-balance, mentally as well as physically, but he would have had to have been dead-- and maybe not even then, if Chaya was any guide...-- to miss John's erection pressing against his hip.

"You, ah... You haven't..." Rodney swallowed, his hand trailing down John's chest of it's own volition. "Really, it's only fair... you did knock me out, after all." He slid his palm over John's cloth covered member, shuddering inside as John tensed against him. He felt the sudden need to obliterate the memory of the night before, to replace it with something more... terrestrial. He stood the rest of the way, still clinging to John, and steered them over to the bed.

"Rodney?" There was a slight squeak to that that made Rodney's cock twitch.

"Just a quick wardrobe change before we get on with Act Two..." he replied, tugging on John's shirt. "Unless you'd rather take an intermission?"

John was already tossing his shirt aside and pulling off his pants before the word 'intermission' was fully out of Rodney's mouth. Rodney snorted and grinned.

"Don't hurry on my account..."

John kissed him again, with more tenderness than Rodney had hoped or expected. However, it didn't last long. John was tugging at Rodney's clothes with increased urgency.

Not that Rodney really blamed him for that...

"Would you say this is my business now, Rodney?" John asked as they both fell onto the bed, the last pieces of their clothing discarded.

"What?" Rodney asked distractedly. Surely John wasn't dense enough to start talking about Chaya now... or was he?

"You said 'if and when anything I do becomes your business, Major...' but you ran off without finishing," John elaborated, in between kissing Rodney's neck and blowing hot air in his ear. "So, is it my business now? And, if so, what does that mean? To you, I mean. I know what it means to me."

Rodney pulled back slightly, twitching his fingers in his rumpled blanket.

"Well, how nice of you to share, John. What would that be, exactly?"

John frowned down at him, his brows furrowed.

"What?"

"Like you don't remember."

"Rodney, wha--" John stopped midword, that phrase snagging at his memory again. "Don't tell me you're still mad about Chaya?!"

"What if I am?" Rodney replied, drawing further away and considering putting his clothes back on.

"For the love of... You aren't serious?" John said, his voice heavy with incredulity. "I fucking sucked you off, and now you're all morally offended?"

"Oh, fuck you, Sheppard," Rodney spat, climbing off the bed and gathering his clothes. "She was right, I am better than you."

"What? Who said that?"

"Can't you guess? Or have you boinked too many people since we got here? Having a hard time keeping them all straight?" He snorted. "Or not, considering how you jumped me."

"You kissed me, McKay." John said, still kneeling naked on Rodney's bed, watching Rodney angrily pull his clothes back on. "And I have not been sleeping around, no matter what your sick little mind has me doing at night. It's just you and Cha--" John's eyes widened. "Chaya? You--Chaya?"

"She came back to apologize to me," Rodney said with smug, if bitter, satisfaction. "And she said I fucked better than you do, John. How do you like that?"

"You mean you lay down and take it better than I do," John growled. "Tell me, did she hold you down too? Did you like feeling helpless, hmmm? 'Cause I sure as hell didn't. Sure, it's kinda cool at first. All floaty and serene..."

"But then... you can't do anything..." Rodney whispered, a fraction of his anger ebbing away. John either didn't hear, or didn't care.

"She's worse than you! She just takes what she needs and gives you what she decides you want, and then she leaves." John had his arms wrapped around his chest, but his eyes still blazed with rage. "And then, when she came back... she fucked you! Didn't even stop by... how hard would that've been? 'Hi, John... how's it going? Just dropped in to apologize to Rodney... have a nice life!'... is that too much to ask?"

Obviously, it had been.

"Get out," Rodney whispered through a mouth suddenly gone to dust.

"What?!"

"You heard me. Get out of my room. Now."

John stared at him, indignation and pain in every line of his body. He rose without another word, dressed mechanically, and left. Rodney watched him go before collapsing onto his bed again.

He had things to tell John, things to explain, things to atone for... but for now, all he could do was marvel.

And sleep.

One night in Bangkok was not nearly enough...

Part 3: Tangled

He awoke to the sensation of his cock being gently stroked, over and over again. It was a wonderful way to wake up, and he idly wondered if he could get John to do this every morning. An endorphin rush first thing every day would go a long way towards relieving the tension that had him twisted in knots by evening.

Rodney reached languidly down to pull John up for a kiss, but found only empty air. Then he remembered that he and John Sheppard hadn't actually gone to bed together at all, yet. His eyes shot open to find that damn glowy squid hovering over him.

"Get off me!" he yelled, scooting back in his bed. Once again, his clothes were mysteriously gone, so he grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around himself.

The squid-like form drifted, exuding a sense of being perplexed, then the tentacles floated towards him again. He ineffectually flapped the edge of his blanket at them, then tugged the pillow out from behind his back and threw it straight at the main body of the thing. The pillow passed through it harmlessly, but the shining creature drew back and solidified into Chaya.

Her exquisite features were puzzled and irritated. "I wish to share with you again. We both had such pleasure before." She reached with human hands for him this time, and that was oddly more disturbing than the tentacles. Sex with a glowy squid he could shove into a separate compartment in his mind, label it 'weird experiences', and not have to think about it. The concept of sex with Chaya in this form made him feel cheap and dirty, and somehow objectified. Rodney was not comfortable with the concept of himself as a slut.

"You apologized, I accepted. That's it, that's all, it's over. I don't want any more." The irony of the situation struck him: here he was, refusing incredible sex with a willing, nubile alien priestess. He, Doctor Rodney McKay, Mr. Socially Inept himself.

But still...he wasn't Kirk. He didn't want to be Kirk. And if he carried on with Chaya, he would so be Kirk.

"But I do want more. And I will give you even more pleasure than before. There are many ways I can make your body respond to me."

This was just getting weirder – and more uncomfortable – by the second. Well, he was infamous for his ability to be rudely and offensively blunt, he'd just have to make his feelings painfully clear to her.

"Listen – I do not want to 'share' with you. I'm not interested. Go share with one of those poor ignorant schmucks back on Proculus, I'm sure they'll feel immensely honored to be molested by their goddess."

Her pretty, vacuous face registered only incomprehension. "We will have pleasure," she repeated.

Before he could respond, she dissolved into light and rushed into him. He found himself surrounded by the glow and held immobile once again, a million tiny soft fingers dancing over and through him. His body tightened, his flesh responding despite his unwillingness. A simultaneous throbbing pressure from inside and out produced a wail of mingled ecstasy and helpless fury from him.

Then he was back on the bed, sprawled limp and panting before her.

"That was not pleasant," Chaya said severely. "Why won't you share with me?"

"I didn't want to, you moronic bitch. You forced me," he growled, fumbling for the blanket to cover his nakedness.

"I cannot understand you. No one rejects pleasure when it is offered freely." She gazed at him expectantly, clearly expecting him to tell her it was all a mistake, that he really did want her.

When he continued to glare at her, she shook her head in disappointment. "John will share with me," she said confidently before shimmering out of her corporeal form. The glow vanished through the wall.

For a moment, all Rodney could do was lay there, his limbs still weak and shaking from the orgasm Chaya had induced in him.

"Shit," he muttered and hauled himself up. He found his uniform trousers on the floor where he'd dropped them earlier and pulled them on without bothering with underwear, pushed sockless feet into his shoes, and stumbled out into the hallway. He pushed himself into a shambling run, recovering strength and balance on the way.

He thought the door of Sheppard's quarters open with a sharp command and found the major suspended a few inches off his bed, his lean, nude form taut from the stimulation of the tentacles that writhed around and through him.

"Nnnnnn...no, please...please, don't..." John moaned, breathing hard and very obviously fully aroused.

His words were enough for Rodney to define the scene before him as non-consensual, and he launched himself at John before he had time to think better of it, tearing the soldier out of Chaya's grasp. They landed heavily half-on, half-off the bed.

There was a squeal of outrage from the Ancient, and Rodney found himself plucked effortlessly off Sheppard and held immobile in a glowing cocoon. His entire body was so closely restrained that he couldn't even twitch a finger, and worse yet, couldn't expand his ribcage to breathe. He struggled frantically, but could get no leverage to push, no purchase on the intangible surface, all his muscles flexing and straining without result. His heart thumped hard and painfully against his ribs. A tiny strangled whimper escaped him as his vision blurred and his thoughts spiraled into darkness.

He dimly registered John shouting something, then he landed hard on the floor and concentrated on sucking as much air as he could into his starving lungs.

Chaya's voice was barely audible over the sound of his own breath. "I will not come back to you, John Sheppard. Do not seek me out." The glow faded quickly and the room was suddenly dark.

Warm hands helped Rodney sit up, and he gratefully leaned back against a solid, bare chest, feeling a strong arm wrap loosely around his waist.

"Rodney? You okay?" John's voice was soft and worried.

He waved a trembling hand dismissively. "Breathing here." He still sounded short of breath and shaky, but he was pulling air in calmly now, in deep, easy lungfuls.

"Yeah. Breathing. You just keep doing that, okay? I'm gonna get dressed." John started to pull away, but Rodney grabbed the arm around his waist and held it there, not willing to lose the comfort of the embrace just yet.

"It's okay, Rodney, I'm not going anywhere. Calm down, okay? Chaya's gone, I don't think she's coming back." He rubbed his free hand up and down Rodney's arm, smoothing away the lingering tremors of adrenaline and fear.

Rodney sighed and laid his head on the shoulder behind him. "That was...not fun," he murmured.

"Yeah. Tell you what, next time we meet up with an alien priestess, let's run the other way."

"Good plan."

"You still mad at me?" John's voice was low and soft, and uncharacteristically hesitant.

Rodney pretended to consider the question for a moment, then turned his face into John's neck and pressed his lips over the pulse, feeling John shiver slightly.

"I take it that's a no?"

Rodney snorted gently. "I hate you, you know that? I can't stay mad at you. I just can't. You're too – too – I don't know what you are, but you're too much of it. And I meant to ask before, since when are you gay?"

"Ummm...I'm not. Except for a few hand jobs and blow jobs. I never really thought about it. At least, not in terms of how it might apply to me." He shrugged the shoulder Rodney wasn't leaning on. "Not until I met you. And what about you?"

"What about me? I'm bisexual. I've never considered gender to be a defining point of sexual attraction. Hell, I've had sex with an alien, now. That blows gender issues right out of the water." He reached up to pull John's head down, meaning to kiss him, but met with unexpected resistance. He twisted his torso around to look at the other man's face and didn't like what he saw there.

John abruptly pushed Rodney away from him and rose to his feet, grabbing clothes and pulling them on almost angrily. "Look, Rodney, I – I can't do this right now. Not after – after – what she did to me – to you. I didn't want it but she wouldn't *stop*, and I couldn't – I couldn't move, I was completely helpless. And then you came, and – Jesus, Rodney, how can you – she was suffocating you, and I couldn't touch her – couldn't make her let you go." He shook his head vigorously as if to dislodge the unpleasant thoughts. "And it's all my fault. You should be mad at me, you should hate me. You almost died because of me."

Rodney was completely bewildered by John's tirade. "Look, I – I don't think she meant to hurt me. I think nobody's said no to her in such a long time that she doesn't know how to deal with it."

"But you couldn't breathe! Your face was turning blue! Don't defend her, Rodney, she –" he stopped, facing away from McKay, and his shoulders slumped. "Are you okay? Do you want me to take you down to the infirmary? Or I could call Beckett," John asked tonelessly.

"I'm okay, I'm fine. My ass is probably bruised from hitting the floor, but that's all."

"Good, that's good. Look, I'll – I'll see you later, okay? I just – I need a little time to wrap my head around what just happened." John grabbed his jacket and was out the door before Rodney could say anything more, leaving the scientist on the floor wondering what the hell had just happened.

Part 4: Going Down to Proculus, aka Showdown at the Ancient Corral

Being left partially or completely naked, after being fucked senseless by a squid, glowy or otherwise, was really starting to lose its charm.

As was staring at the empty space in the air where John had so recently been... before he ran off again.

Okay, to be fair, Rodney had kicked him out the first time, but still... how were they supposed to figure any of this out if they couldn't manage to stay in the same room for more than ten minutes?

And, for the love of [insert your deity here], he wanted to figure this out!

Rodney pushed himself to his feet, his chest aching almost as much as his ass as he stumbled toward the door. He tried to pull himself into some semblance of order before realizing it was a lost cause. He'd run over to John's room in nothing but his pants and shoes. No shirt, no socks, not even underwear. He'd have trouble buying a soda at any convenience store in the US, let alone getting across the city again without spawning even more rumors...

He looked around John's room before settling for grabbing what turned out to be one of his own shirts.

John was so going to hear about that, once this was all behind them...

An idea beginning to form in the part of his mind that wasn't wondering how long John had been stealing his clothes-- and why-- Rodney rushed to his own room to clean up. There was no way he was going to go begging to Elizabeth looking anything less than his best...

O~O~O

"Rodney..." Elizabeth said, looking up from her laptop, surprised etched into her weary features. "I thought even you'd be asleep by now."

"I was," he said, pulling nervously at his sleeves and refraining from pointing out that *she* was still awake. "Can we talk?"

She blinked at him and then gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

"Of course, Rodney. What's on your mind?"

That, he decided, was a very dangerous question. He paused to collect his thoughts, his carefully scripted outline of the situation fading into a rumpled mess of incoherent notes and syllables. He bought himself a moment by taking a seat and clearing his throat. Blame it on recent events, but he couldn't think of a way to ease into what he needed to say.

"Both Major Sheppard and I have been receiving... nocturnal visits from-- from Chaya," he said without preamble. Blunt was efficient, if nothing else.

"What?" Elizabeth's eyebrows all but flew toward her hairline. "For how long?"

"Only the last few nights..." He paused. "For me, at least. I have no idea how long she's been going to John..."

"And by 'nocturnal visits'--"

"Yes."

"You mean-- ?"

"Yes."

"Both of you?"

Rodney closed his eyes.

"Yes."

"That must be awkward."

"You have no idea..." he breathed, and when he opened his eyes, he was shocked by her empathy.

"Have the two of you-- " Her eyes finished that better than words ever could. He wouldn't--couldn't-- say that, though...

"Talked about it? Not really."

"Rodney." Her tone said that she wouldn't be lied to, but her eyes were still too understanding.

"Elizabeth," he replied, and she nodded.

"Right... what are you going to do about this?"

That was one of the things he admired about Elizabeth... she had no problem getting down to brass tacks. Right to business... he could do that.

"We have to go back."

"And by 'back' you mean to Proculus?"

"And by 'we', I mean John and I. No one else."

"You know I can't let you do that--"

"You have to." He winced at how desperate that sounded. "This is a personal matter, Elizabeth... no one else can come. And we have to go."

"Really?"

"If you want us to be able to function as a team or independently. Ever." Maybe that was a bit harsh and overly cynical, but it got her attention. She nodded once and he relaxed slightly.

"Have you talked to John yet?"

"He, ah... He's not in a talking mood just now... We, ah, we... it's complicated," he finished lamely, but she seemed to understand. How, he didn't know... he didn't understand most of what was going on himself.

"You have a go... in the morning," she added when he stood immediately. "I suggest that you find John and make him listen... and then get some rest."

He nodded, not liking the idea of waiting at all, let alone hours... but she was right. It would give him time to convince John that this was necessary. And he really did need some sleep, preferably without the squid sex.

"Thank you, Elizabeth... and I'd-- we'd appreciate it if you could keep this quiet. At least until we know what's what."

"Of course, Rodney. First thing in the morning..."

He paused, considering whether or not he should mention that Chaya had attacked him... but in the end he just gave a tight smile and another nod before leaving Elizabeth to her work.

O~O~O

"No."

"Come on, John--"

"No," John repeated more forcefully, walking away from Rodney at speed. Rodney caught his arm, the first physical contact between them since John's earlier freak out. John stopped, looking down at the fingers around his wrist.

"Don't you want to put this behind us so that we can, oh, I don't know... put this behind us?"

"She said not to go after her."

"No, she said, and I quote, 'Do not seek me out'... Technically, we don't have to seek. We know right where she is."

"Fine. Say we go... Then what?" John asked, his eyes still glued to Rodney's hold on him. "How are we supposed to keep her there? Or keep her from killing us? Or don't you remember her choking you?"

"I remember."

"Then you realize why I won't let you go back."

"Won't let-- ? I'm telling you we have to. This isn't about you protecting me."

John slumped slightly, lifting his arm and using Rodney's grip on his wrist to pull them closer together.

"Of course it is," he murmured, wrapping his free arm around Rodney's neck, sliding his hand through Rodney's hair. "That's what everything is about..."

Rodney froze, unsure what he was expected to do, what he was expected to say... but John took the moment out of his hands as he gently completed the kiss that Rodney had begun after Chaya had left. It didn't last nearly long enough as far as Rodney was concerned, but it was a step in the right direction.

"So..." John whispered into Rodney's neck, sounding almost normal. "When do we leave?"

Rodney blinked and then backed up a step, not getting very far since John was still holding him close.

"What?"

"You already cleared it with Weir, right?"

"Yeah. She was easier to convince than you..." Rodney replied, adding, "Don't worry. I didn't tell her much... I think she figured it out anyway, but I only told her what I had to."

John shook his head and leaned back.

"I don't think she'd really care, do you?"

"No," Rodney answered. "But I thought you might."

"Not so much."

"Oh..."

"Oh," John repeated, dropping his arm to his side.

"We leave in the morning. Elizabeth said to get some sleep..." Rodney said hesitantly, with an uncharacteristic shyness making his movements awkward. John smiled at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him slowly down the hall.

"I'll walk you to your room."

Rodney licked his lips, imagining John's taste lingering there.

"And, when we get there... will you be staying?"

John laced his fingers through Rodney's in a way that should have set off alarms and sent Rodney's defenses crashing into place. But it didn't... there was just a slowly spreading warmth that wound its way around his heart and into the cold places in his mind.

"Only if you want me to, Rodney," John answered, his words carrying as much heat as his touch. "And only for sleeping... until we get this all figured out," he added with a tone of disappointment tempered by necessity. "After..."

That was all the promise Rodney needed.

He still had no idea what he meant to do, or how he meant to do it... but when they got to Proculus, he'd hate to be standing in Chaya's place.

O~O~O

Elizabeth was true to her word, and the next morning they left for Proculus in a Jumper, with only Elizabeth and Zelenka to see them off.

"I hadn't realized they were an item," John said as they approached the planet.

"Elizabeth and Radek? They aren't."

"Oh?" John glanced at him. "Are you sure?"

Rodney snorted.

"Just because I'm dense about my own romantic prospects doesn't mean I'm blind to the world."

"Did I really just hear that? You, admitting to being dense?"

"Burn it into your memory. It'll never happen again," Rodney quipped. "And yes, I'm sure. Elizabeth isn't his type..."

"Oh? Then who is?"

Rodney smirked, knowing that his friends would forgive him once they found out what he'd been through in the last few days.

"Carson."

"No way! Really?"

"Oh yeah."

"Didn't see that one coming..."

"Did you see this one?"

"Point taken."

They settled into silence as they entered the atmosphere, the settlement soon in visual range. They were only moments from Chaya's temple home, and Rodney counted them lucky that she hadn't destroyed them as soon as they'd come through the 'gate. Then again, she was Ascended, for all her faults, so perhaps that was too harsh of him.

"You think she knows we're here?" John asked as he set the Jumper down about a half mile from their destination.

"Probably... I mean, I wouldn't rule it out."

"Right," John agreed, still not budging from his seat. "Any idea what we're here to do?"

"We're going to take our nights back."

"How poetic. Any idea how?"

"None what-so-ever."

"Right... let's go."

They exited the Jumper side by side, close enough to hold hands... but they didn't, by some unspoken agreement. Chaya had always come to them separately... seeing them together, fighting for each other, had driven her away. They needed her to stick around long enough for them to-- whatever it turned out they needed to do. The walk wasn't as long as Rodney remembered and he wasn't quite ready when the temple suddenly loomed in front of them.

"So," John said, stopping just short of the gated entry way. "What now? Do we knock or what?"

Rodney considered that for a moment before stepping forward and swinging the gate open.

"I'm opting for 'or what', how about you?"

John forced a smile and gestured Rodney onward.

"After you, Fearless Leader."

Rodney squared his shoulders and nodded grimly.

"Right. Tally-ho."

John laughed in spite of himself. Rodney winked at him and they crossed the threshold together...

It was almost disappointing that nothing happened.

Almost.

They crossed the plant-shrouded yard slowly, approaching the temple. It was a disarmingly peaceful place...

"No wonder she's so mad for human contact... she must be bored out of her mind," Rodney breathed, a thread of sympathy worming through his anger and resentment.

"You have no idea, Rodney."

They both jumped and spun around to face her. Rodney knew that the guilt on John's face mirrored his own, but there wasn't anything he could do about that.

"I told you not to come here." She sounded almost resigned.

"We seem to have a problem with doing as we're told," John said, moving slightly closer to Rodney, as though he didn't quite trust himself now that he was face to face with Chaya again.

"Why have you come here?" she asked, crossing her arms. "You have not changed your minds." That was not a question.

"No... but there's no way either of us can have any kind of peace unless we--"

"Unless you what, Rodney?" The question was laden with icy sadness.

Rodney looked at John, steeling himself.

"I don't know."

She seemed taken aback by those words. She considered them in silence for a moment before nodding and gesturing them deeper into the complex.

"We will talk."

"Talking," John said, following just behind Rodney. "Talking sounds good..."

The three of them sat in the circle of stone benches where they had first waited for the blessing of 'Athar'. The blessing that never came.

"Where to begin... ?" Chaya sighed, seeming somehow diminished here.

"I hear that the beginning is a very good place to start..." John offered, ignoring Rodney's glare. "Why are you really all alone here?"

Rodney frowned at that question. Mostly because he hadn't thought of it, and wasn't quite sure where it was supposed to lead...

Chaya, on the other hand, flinched and nodded.

"Truth is best... My protection of my people was not my first transgression. It was only the means through which I was finally exiled. The Others were against my Ascension from the start."

"Why would they be?" John asked, and again, all Rodney could do was sit by and listen.

"They did not think I was... pure enough," Chaya said bitterly. "They disagreed with the way I lived my mortal life."

"Why?" Rodney interjected before John could beat him to it again.

"I-- I had a fondness for material sharing. This was looked down upon."

Somehow, Rodney wasn't surprised.

"I lived too much in the moment. They would have stopped my Ascension had they been able... instead, they settled for confining me to Proculus. I was able to endure my punishment... until you came here..."

"So this is all our fault?"

She shook her head.

"No... I see now that I was wrong to force either of you. I hope you can forgive me."

Rodney laughed quietly at that.

"If you remember, this all started with an apology and a 'forgiving'..."

"I meant with your words only, Rodney."

"You'll excuse me for clarifying."

She nodded, looking at them both hopefully.

"We forgive you, Chaya. Don't we, Rodney?"

"As long as she promises to leave us alone now."

"I promise," Chaya replied solemnly. Rodney nodded and she smiled, melting into light.

Somehow, that just seemed too easy...

O~O~O

Rodney heaved a sigh of relief as they entered the Puddle Jumper.

"It's over then... this whole mess?"

"I'd say so..." John replied, gently grabbing Rodney from behind and wrapping his arms around Rodney's waist. "And I can't think of a better time to fulfill that promise."

"In the back of the Jumper?"

"Oh, come on... you can't tell me that you don't want to."

"Well, yeah... but don't you want to wait until we get home?"

"I'm sick of waiting, aren't you?" John asked, kissing Rodney's neck and pressing his erection to Rodney's ass. There really was no arguing with that, even for Rodney. "And I've wanted to do you in the back of one of these 'babies' ever since we found them..."

"Well, when you put it like that... how can I refuse?"

"I'm really hoping that you can't."

"Because you're just that hot?"

"No, because you are."

"Give me a break..." Rodney snorted, and then craned his neck around to look at John. "Really? You think I'm hot?"

"Molten."

"Now I know you're having me on."

"On what exactly? Because if you mean what I'm thinking, we need some lube. Like now."

Ignoring the fact that this was playing out like a bad porn flick, Rodney leaned against John's chest and nodded to the first aid kit. John grinned against his neck and then pulled away, searching the small case efficiently while Rodney toed off his boots. He glanced around at the spartan padding of the cargo/passenger area with no little dismay. John grabbed him again, pulling their hips together and grinding against him as he caught Rodney's mouth savagely with his own. He steered Rodney toward the front of the Jumper.

"Wanna fuck you..." He muttered huskily into Rodney's lips. "Want you to-- " He paused to kiss Rodney again. "-- fuck yourself on me..."

Rodney shuddered as he fumbled to unfasten John's pants, pushing them down around his thighs as he pressed John down into the pilot's seat, not caring that they were plainly visible through the 'windshield' of the craft. He yanked his own pants completely off before straddling John's hips and rubbing their cocks together. John's fingers were delving into him almost immediately, making him cry out in ecstasy.

"Been so long... so fucking long..." He moaned, pushing himself down.

"I'll go easy..." John groaned into Rodney's shoulder, but Rodney shook his head wildly.

"Don't you dare." He panted as John added a second and then a third finger. "Want it hard... uh... and fast... and-- Christ..." He gasped as John finally found his prostate. "And-- and-- and rough..." He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against John's. "I want-- I need to get the feel of her out of my body. Fuck it out of me, John."

John was breathing heavily as he slid his fingers out of Rodney's ass, quickly coating his cock with lube.

"Make me come so hard that all I can think of is you..."

John lined himself up with Rodney's entrance, and when he hesitated Rodney bore down, taking half of John's length up into himself in one movement. John cried out wordlessly and clutched at Rodney's hips, bucking upward and in the rest of the way.

"Make me scream your name so loud that she can hear..." Rodney grunted, rolling his hips.

"Shit, Rodney..." John was almost whimpering, thrusting up against Rodney's bulk erratically. Rodney settled inexorably, holding John still with his weight and claiming John's mouth, even as the other man fought him, tongue to tongue, teeth clicking against each other.

"Make my climax her defeat."

"Yes."

"Make our passion her downfall."

"Yes..."

Rodney pulled up suddenly, riding John fast and hard, soaring upward only to plunge down again, impaling himself as deeply and as savagely as he could. He drew ragged gasping cries from John's lungs, directly into his own before throwing them back at him, amplified by their mutual desire.

"Make her see that we have what she. Can. Never. Have." He punctuated each word with grinding forward thrust, driving John's cock against his prostate.

"YES!" John screamed, his orgasm slamming through him in waves of ecstasy too strong to be borne. He convulsed within Rodney, thrashing wildly, his hand flying to Rodney's neglected cock. As soon as his fingers encircled the throbbing shaft, Rodney howled and splattered John's chest with his come. They sagged against each other, hitching breaths pulsing through them, a dull ache forming deep within Rodney's body. He clenched his muscles around John, milking the last of his spend from John's now softened member, feeling it twitch weakly. It still wasn't enough.

Rodney had the feeling that it would never be enough... but he was willing to keep trying. He grinned against John's neck, molding their bodies more tightly together.

O~O~O

Grey morning light filtered into Rodney's room through half-opaque windows, while silent darkness prevailed in John's quarters, deeper within the city walls. An endless night of frantic love-making lay behind them...

And still, they each woke up in their own beds... naked, spent, and alone.

It took Rodney all of three seconds to realize what had happened. In truth, he had half expected this...

None of it had been real. Not going to Proculus, not talking with Chaya, not making love in the Jumper.

"On the contrary, Rodney. It all happened. Just not in the way that you are used to things happening."

He snarled at Chaya, hating her for deceiving him... and for making him want to be deceived.

"You fucking bitch..." He whispered hoarsely, shaking his head at her. "You manipulative fucking whore."

Her face was dangerously calm as she stood and moved closer to him, leaning down and suddenly back-handing him across the mouth. She could be surprisingly solid when she wanted to be. His glaring anger turned to surprise as he stared up into her eyes.

"You can't keep doing this."

"Why can't I?"

"You're Ascended. You're supposed to be basically good."

"What is supposed to be and what is are two vastly different things, Rodney. I would have thought that you knew that." She frowned at him and grabbed his face between her hands, holding him immobile as she leaned down and kissed him, only half ethereal. "The Others have left me to my own devices for this long. As long as I do not aid you, I may do as I please."

"And what about what we want?"

"You may... have each other as often as you like. I can trigger the response I crave even if you spend yourselves in each other every night." It was plain from her tone what she thought of that kind of love. "I would not want to interfere with your happiness in the pursuit of my own. Or should you prefer, I can use your own forms to draw the pleasure from your souls... as you have surely noticed by now, I am very flexible."

Before he could more than splutter in response to that, she was gone, leaving him to the darkness and his own gloom filled heart.

Part 5: Best Laid Plans

Rodney lay in his rumpled bed, mouth smarting from Chaya's blow, trying to calm his anger and put his vast intellect to work. But the problem wasn't a malfunctioning Puddle Jumper he could repair or a scientist under his authority whom he could discipline by assigning them to work with Kavanagh. This was a bitch of an Ascended nymphomaniac, for all intents and purposes omnipotent, whose own people didn't give a damn if she repeatedly molested a snarky human astrophysicist or a cocky, genetically advanced pilot. Apparently, he thought with bitter resentment, lechery was okay as long as she didn't save any lives other than her own people.

When Sheppard burst into his room, Rodney was so deep in thought he'd nearly fallen asleep. John pounced on him, patting his body with desperate urgency, yelling, "Rodney! Oh my god, no -"

"What the -" Rodney started, then thrashed involuntarily when John accidentally lit on a ticklish spot. His flailing limbs shoved the Major off the bed to land with a thump on the floor.

"What is your problem?" he asked, struggling out of the twisted bedclothes. Seeing Sheppard's eyes widen, he looked down and found himself naked...again.

"Oh, for the love of..." he muttered disgustedly and crossed over to the dresser to pull out a pair of boxer-briefs and BDU trousers. He slipped the briefs on but continued to rummage in the drawer.

"Where the hell are all my shirts?" he grumbled to himself before turning back to John. "Well? You haven't told me why you felt it necessary to leap on me like a cat with a new toy. An explanation would be particularly welcome at this point."

John slowly stood. "I was afraid – she said you were rude and angry, and that she'd had to hit you. I thought you might be hurt." His voice was quiet and flat, and he didn't meet Rodney's eyes. "I'm sorry I disturbed you." He headed for the door.

"John!"

Sheppard stopped but didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry – I – oh, this is all so stupid. I'm fine, she just smacked me. But look, we can't let this – her – come between us. We'll figure something out. It's not fair –"

John spun around, his face dark with fury. "No, Rodney, it's not fair. Life isn't fair, you know that. And unless we get rid of Chaya, there can never be an 'us'. We'd end up hating each other." All the anger seemed to drain out of him suddenly, leaving the pilot looking exhausted. "We'd never know what was us and what was her, Rodney. I can't live that way – I'm already so tired..."

"John –"

"You'd better let Elizabeth know we aren't going to Proculus after all. And for god's sake, put your pants on, Rodney. Do you have any idea how good you look in those?"

Then he was gone, leaving McKay feeling like he'd just been run over by the emotional equivalent of a steam locomotive.

O~O~O

Speaking to Elizabeth had been awkward. Rodney wasn't completely sure what to expect the next night, but he had a good idea, and he managed to get Weir to postpone any action until the following day with the promise of a full accounting later.

He and John avoided each other all day. His stomach gurgled unpleasantly while he ate dinner with Zelenka, who kept trying to engage Rodney in tech talk that he just couldn't concentrate on. It had actually been difficult to eat today, a clear sign of how upset he was – as if he needed any more proof. And the closer it got to night, the more his stomach grumbled. He was dreading the expected visitation, but he was incredibly tired. He'd been fighting to stay awake all day, barely catching several potentially disastrous mistakes as he worked.

After dinner, Rodney tried to work on his laptop in his quarters for a while, but after nodding off at his desk for the third time, he gave up and lay down on his bed, fully clothed and on top of the covers.

A knock on his door woke him from a light doze. He thought the door open without getting up, expecting to see Elizabeth dropping by to check on him.

Instead, he saw John framed in the light from the hall, his face in shadows.

"Rodney," his voice was hoarse and pleading, "I need you, Rodney, I want you. You were right, we can't let her ruin it for us. She can't take this away from us."

In two long strides he was at the bed, reaching for the startled scientist, pressing his hot, wet mouth on Rodney's lips. The kiss drew him in hungrily and he couldn't help but respond.

"No – John – how do we know this isn't her?" He could hardly catch his breath between the burning kisses that John drew from him.

"I'm here, Rodney, I'm real. Let her take her pleasure, I don't care, as long as it's real between us, between you and me. I want you. I want to know what it's like to feel you deep inside of me, you, Rodney, not that tentacled bitch. Please, Rodney, please," he panted urgently, climbing into the bed.

The niggling voice of reason at the back of Rodney's mind was abruptly snuffed out by an almost suffocating wave of desire. It took them only seconds to get the restraining clothing off, then John was rubbing himself eagerly against Rodney. Their hands roamed restlessly, petting and stroking, and Rodney could hear his own passionate moans echoed by John.

It took a few minutes for him to realize that John didn't sound aroused anymore, he sounded desperate. He stopped moving and collapsed on top of Rodney, whispering miserably against Rodney's neck, "I can't, I can't, I'm too tired." Rodney finally understood that the cock beside his own throbbing hardness was still limp and soft.

"It's okay," he said softly, "don't worry about it, it's alright. It can still be good, John." He closed his eyes, holding the soldier in his arms, and ran one hand in long slow caresses down the smoothly muscled back until he felt some of the tension leave. Running his knuckles along the spine, he continued stroking over the slim buttocks and found the tight pucker between the cheeks. John tensed again when he rubbed a finger gently around it, but he licked his way across John's mouth into a deep, probing kiss, and felt the tight ring of muscle begin to relax and allow the finger into it. He matched the movement of his finger to that of his tongue in John's mouth and heard him moan with renewed ardor.

Rodney slowly worked his long finger in, feeling the folds of flesh reluctantly stretch to accommodate him. Finally, he found what he was searching for: a little nub just the other side of the passage his finger was enclosed in. He pressed against it, and John gasped, arched his back, and Rodney felt the tight muscles clenched around his finger relax completely all at once.

He immediately began to thrust the finger in and out, easily adding a second, then a third after just a few strokes. He reached for the sensitive gland and rubbed it again and again, feeling the slim body on top of him writhe ecstatically over his own aching cock. He opened his eyes to see John's flushed visage, eyes half-lidded, kiss-swollen lips parted to draw in quick, panting breaths.

When he heard John plead for more, Rodney pulled his fingers out and rolled the two of them over, pulling the major's long legs up over his shoulders and pressing his aching member into the ready and willing hole.

"Yes, Rodney, yes," John gasped, reaching up to rub the erect nipples of the man inside him. "Mine, all mine. God, I didn't know it could be like this. Look at me, Rodney, I'm not even hard and you're making it so good."

He pumped eagerly into the soft, warm channel that seemed to draw his cock in with delicious suction, effortlessly finding the correct angle to nudge John's prostate with each stroke. John tossed his head from side to side, eyes closed, panting and clutching desperately at the bedclothes.

Finally, Rodney felt a tingling sensation in his balls as they tightened, and he thrust himself in as far as he could, hearing John cry out as the semen flooded his passage in boiling jets. The orgasm crashed through him in incandescent waves that overwhelmed his senses.

Neither man saw the glow that suffused the room around them.

O~O~O

When he woke, the sky beyond the window was just beginning to lighten. Rodney was alone in the bed, the blankets rumpled and twisted under and around him. Smiling at the memory of the incredible sex he'd finally, really, actually had, with no sign of Chaya, he sat up and swung his legs off the bed – only to find cloth under his feet. There was a pile of clothing on the floor, and not all of it was his own. He picked up the black T-shirt and BDU's, pressing them to his face to smell the familiar military issue deodorant combined with the sharp scent of John's sweat.

His brain shifted into gear and the clothes fell from his hands as reason overrode emotion, making him curse first himself for being so easily duped, then Chaya for being such an evil, manipulative bitch.

Because if John's clothes were here, but he wasn't, then the major had to be running around the city stark naked, and Rodney somehow didn't think that was particularly likely. Searching his memory, he realized that another giveaway was the ease with which he'd penetrated John last night: completely without the aid of lubricant.

John's lack of erection stymied him for a moment – until he decided that even Chaya must have her limits. Frankly, Rodney didn't have much energy either: thinking about last night produced no reaction from his body, and he felt fuzzy-headed and worn down. He stifled a yawn and grabbed his watch. It took a minute to be sure he was reading the dial correctly. He'd overslept by two hours, and that was after going to bed early last night.

At this rate, he wouldn't be able to rise to the occasion either.

As much as he wanted to return to bed and sleep another couple of hours, if he expected to have any kind of plan in place before the next night, he needed to get up and get moving.

First step: John Sheppard's quarters, and wasn't that going to be awkward?

He found John sitting on his bed, fully clothed except for shoes, his forehead resting on his drawn-up knees. Rodney dropped John's clothes – rumpled and wrinkled, because he only now thought of folding them neatly instead of bundling them under his arm, and now it was too late – on top of the dresser.

"It wasn't real, was it?" John's voice was quiet and oddly fragile.

Rodney sighed heavily and sat on the end of the bed. "Is your ass sore?" he asked bluntly.

"No," the answer was just as blunt.

"It wasn't real."

"Shit," John swore, heartfelt.

"Yeah."

They sat in unaccustomed silence for a few minutes before John asked hesitantly, "Is that – is it really like that?"

Rodney shrugged, then offered Sheppard the ghost of a smile. "It can be. There's usually more lube, though. A lot more lube."

O~O~O

Elizabeth looked up at the knock on her door to find John and Rodney entering her office. The two men looked tired and frustrated and oddly...debauched. She'd found the state of each man's hair to be the best gauge of their mental and emotional health, and right now the hair had her worried: John's was limp and lank, almost plastered to his skull, and Rodney's stuck up in all directions as if he'd put his finger in a light socket.

They sat wearily and eyed each other. She watched the unspoken conversation between them with an almost voyeuristic fascination. Unsurprisingly, Rodney seemed to be the one elected to speak first.

"You have to take us off active duty, Elizabeth."

That wasn't what she'd been expecting to hear.

"We're still being, um, visited by Chaya. At this point, we can't even tell what's real and what's...her."

"I don't understand. I thought she was..."

John sighed. "She was. She still is. But now she's messing with our minds, making us think it's..." he blushed violently, avoiding her eyes, "...each other instead of her."

Elizabeth felt a completely unexpected flash of heat through her body, accompanied by a slight dampness between her legs. She wasn't particularly attracted to either man, although they both had qualities she admired, but the thought of them together...suddenly she desperately wanted to thrust her hand between her thighs and touch herself.

She licked dry lips and said carefully, "Do you know what her purpose is?"

"Apparently," Rodney grimaced, "she wants to 'share' pleasure, and doesn't much care if the other party – parties – are willing. Or able," he added as an afterthought.

"Jeez, Rodney, d'you have to tell all the sordid details? I was tired. I'm still tired. And I know you're exhausted, I can't figure out how you do it. When did you last actually sleep?"

Rodney gave him a look of incomprehension. "Sleep? Major, I'm perfectly capable of going for days with minimal sleep. I never sleep more than four or five hours a night at the most. That's part of the problem, Elizabeth," he turned back to her, "last night I was in bed for eight hours and I'm *still* tired. I can't keep this up much longer." He smirked, "Literally."

She felt another surge of warmth at her center and tried not to squirm in her seat. "I don't think I quite understand what Chaya is getting out of this."

"Pleasure." Both men spoke at once, then engaged in another of those silent conversations. Finally, Rodney gave in and accepted his role as spokesperson after John looked away, refusing to continue the wordless argument.

"Apparently, she gets off on it." Sheppard let out a strangled noise of protest, which Rodney ignored. "The other Ancients didn't want her to Ascend at all because they thought she was too fixated on physical sensation. That didn't stop her – nothing seems to stop her – and now she has to get her rocks off vicariously."

"I don't think you can apply that phrase to a woman, Rodney," John objected.

"She's not a woman. She's a damn glowy squid with non-corporeal tentacles that appear to have been specially designed for inducing hours of physical pleasure," he spat out the word with disgusted emphasis, "from inside and out."

John shuddered and rolled his eyes. "God, Rodney, I don't even want to *think* about sex anymore."

"But why you two?" Elizabeth interjected.

"I think it's the gene," Rodney answered. "And partly because she's attracted to John, and I think she's punishing me. Or maybe she's just a lunatic nymphomaniac. Right now, Elizabeth, all I know is that we're both exhausted and I have no idea how to stop her."

"Alright then, you're off active duty. And I want you both to see Carson immediately."

That earned her another smirk from Rodney. "We're already scheduled for exams later this morning."

O~O~O

Elizabeth had to feel bad for Carson when she met Sheppard, McKay and the physician in his office that afternoon. He'd been ruthlessly double-teamed by what she was beginning rather frivolously to think of as 'the McShep show', and his obvious discomfort with the situation didn't help. It was easy to forget that Beckett's primary field of expertise was in research, not diagnostics or treatment.

She neatly interrupted the rising snarkfest John and Rodney were currently engaged in. "What did your exams show, Carson?"

He gave her a grateful look before turning to the PDA on his desk. "Both McKay and the Major are definitely courting exhaustion. Their blood pressure is up and they've both lost weight."

"And that's a bad thing?" Rodney muttered. "For me, at least," he amended when John raised an eyebrow at him.

Carson ignored him, addressing Elizabeth. "Apart from that, they're both in reasonable health. I'd chalk it up to stress if there were no other factors. There's no sign of trauma or infection, no tearing, not even the kind of bruising or irritation I'd expect to see from the, er, frequency and – and type of activity they've described – well, Rodney's described to me." He shot a glare at the unrepentant astrophysicist.

"What? It's my fault Captain Kirk over there is a wilting flower when it comes to talking about sex? And I already explained to you, Carson, that we haven't actually *touched* each other. Not since – and that was just –" Rodney glanced at John, who was looking daggers at him. Elizabeth thought she'd never seen a man blush as often as John had today. "Well, there hasn't been any actual penetration on our part. And Chaya doesn't have to worry about orifices to get where she wants to go. She just sticks her tentacles right through –"

"RODNEY!" John and Carson shouted at the same time. Elizabeth became aware of her own open mouth and snapped it shut over the shocked giggle threatening to spill out. Apparently, once he'd accepted his role as spokesperson under these strange circumstances, Rodney had thrown all concept of embarrassment or shyness out the window. In fact, he'd relayed a good deal too much information with almost gleeful abandon.

"When did you turn into a blushing schoolgirl, Carson? Between medical school and Radek, it's not like you don't know what goes on –"

John reached over and poked Rodney's arm. "He's embarrassed for us, you idiot."

"Oh." Enlightenment dawned on the scientist's face. "That's – that's very considerate of you, Carson, but really not necessary."

Beckett scrubbed his hands over his face. "I want you to spend tonight under observation, lads. Perhaps Chaya won't come if you have company. And if she does, I can monitor your condition. I may be able to detect how she's making you experience things that aren't real."

"I don't think they're hallucinations, exactly, Doc. And even if they are, what good would it do to know?" John sounded depressed, and Elizabeth didn't miss the worry on Rodney's face that mirrored her own concerns. Sheppard had been unhappy enough to learn of Chaya's initial deception. This continued persecution was taking an obvious toll on him.

"I may be able to medicate you to prevent her influence on your perceptions. There are also drugs that suppress the libido. If you can't, er, 'get it up', she may lose interest."

"Didn't stop her last night," Rodney muttered, then jumped when John kicked his ankle. "Ow," he whined, pulling the foot up into his lap and rubbing it.

Carson took a deep breath, and Elizabeth could almost see him suppress his own discomfort and switch fully into physician mode. "There's no shame in an occasional inability to perform, Major, especially when what you're experiencing is tantamount to rape. But that didn't deter her?"

Elizabeth had never suspected Sheppard would be so shy. His face flamed continually now, and she was equally surprised by her own fascination with the situation.

"I didn't know it was possible to – um – have an orgasm without – ah –"

"Ejaculating?" Carson supplied.

John snorted. "I didn't even get hard. She did the – the prostate thing again. It's like having the most vivid wet dream ever. I know it's her, but she kind of smothers my mind so I don't know it's her."

"Apparently, if we're unwilling she doesn't enjoy herself whether we come or not. So she's messing with our minds to make us, um, willing," Rodney stepped in.

"Then if we can keep her from controlling your minds, she won't get what she's after," Elizabeth concluded. "Carson, I think it's best that you set up in the isolation ward so we can keep this private. I'd rather not have the whole city stopping by to check out the show. How many of your people will you need?"

"I think I can manage with one. Jane Valenski used to be an EMT, so she won't be easily surprised. She can be trusted to keep her mouth shut."

"Good. Major, I suggest you put Lieutenant Ford on guard duty so you won't be interrupted. You do realize," she continued, "that this is a compromise of our security? We need to inform Sergeant Bates."

John flinched. "Oh god, do we really have to?"

Elizabeth just looked at him.

"Okay, okay, you're right. But do me a favor? You tell him."

"Oh, I think Rodney would be much better at it than me," Elizabeth's smile could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be termed 'nice'.

Rodney's eyebrows shot up. "Me? Explain this ridiculous situation to Bates?" He took in the beseeching expression on John's face. "Oh...well, okay. I suppose it could be fun to see how much it takes to make him blush."

O~O~O

After the two beleaguered men left Carson's office, Elizabeth said firmly, "I want to be present tonight."

Carson choked on his coffee and spluttered, "You want to WHAT?"

"Let me rephrase that: I need to be there. It's my responsibility. I'd rather John and Rodney not know I'm going to be in attendance, however. Tonight is already going to be difficult enough for them."

"I plan to set up cameras to record any activity. We might as well conduct this with proper scientific procedures," Carson sighed. "I'll put you in the other room with the monitor feeds."

"Perfect," Elizabeth smiled as much as her worries would let her.

O~O~O

Rodney followed John back to his quarters, knowing he should go to his lab to wrap up several projects and issue instructions to Zelenka while he was off active duty, but truthfully he was just too weary to bother. He'd never admit it, but he did trust Zelenka to handle almost anything that might come up.

He stopped just inside the doorway of Sheppard's quarters and picked up a T-shirt from the floor.

"This is mine." He found a pair of boxers draped over a chair. "This is mine, too. No wonder I don't have anything to wear. What are my clothes doing in your quarters?"

John sat heavily on his bed. "Three guesses and the first two don't count. She usually goes to you first, Rodney. When she comes to me, for some reason she brings the clothes she took off you. I kept meaning to pick them up and return them to you, but I forgot." He yawned hugely. "I'm so tired, I can't seem to keep anything in my head."

The yawn was contagious, and Rodney found himself imitating the major. "Ascended kleptomaniac," he complained. Suddenly he could hardly keep his eyes open, and he stumbled to the bed to sit beside John.

"Jus' for a few min's..." he mumbled around another jaw-stretcher, leaning heavily on Sheppard, who gave way under his weight until they were both lying down. In seconds, they were snoring.

O~O~O

She'd seen both men unconscious before, and Elizabeth was surprised each time by the difference between their waking and sleeping selves.

John was flat on his back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, with one hand flat on his stomach and the other arm wrapped around Rodney, who was curled up against John's side. There was always a tension on the Major's face in repose, in direct contrast to the habitual expression of good-natured humor he showed the world when awake. She knew the unexpected responsibility that had been thrust upon him weighed more heavily on him than he would ever admit.

Rodney's head was pillowed on John's shoulder, his own hand resting on John's stomach, almost touching Sheppard's hand. It was always strange to see him so still – he tended to project an aura of barely contained energy, constantly in motion. In sleep he looked remarkably young and innocent, affording her a glimpse of the sweet-faced child he once must have been.

She chose to wake Rodney, assuming that he was less likely to be embarrassed at being discovered asleep in John's arms. A gentle hand on his arm and a whisper in his ear were sufficient to rouse him. He woke slowly, giving her an uncharacteristically lazy, contented smile under heavy-lidded eyes.

"Carson asked me to find you and make sure the two of you ate dinner."

"Good idea. 's it dinner time now?"

"Yes. You're to report to the infirmary after you've eaten."

He started to sit up, and catching sight of John lying next to him, froze. To Elizabeth's amusement, he flushed and looked guilty, snatching his hand off John's stomach.

"We – we didn't – we weren't –"

She caught his hand in her own, feeling a surge of affection for the awkward scientist. The last thing Elizabeth had ever wanted was to be den mother to the population of the lost city, but she was beginning to think it was inevitable. Rodney had always treated her more like a fondly regarded sister than a boss or co-worker or even a possible romantic interest, and she'd noticed lately that John had begun to do the same. Since becoming aware of how aroused the thought of the two men together was making her, she'd done her best to try to sublimate those feelings into a more acceptable – and more endurable – form, and treating them like her siblings seemed the best way to go.

But that didn't mean she didn't – for just the tiniest moment – indulge in the instantly squashed vision of John and Rodney pressed against each other in a heaving, gasping, sweating play of muscle and skin, bodies hard and strong.

"I'm not going to tell you not to get involved with each other, Rodney. I understand the reasons behind the non-fraternization regs, but you aren't under each other's command, and it's clear enough that you work better together than apart. What you do on your own time is your business. If it does affect your work, believe me, I'll assign you to a different team without a second thought. But I think Chaya has severely underestimated you and John."

He gave her a sad, lopsided smile. "I'm not feeling very optimistic, Elizabeth," he said quietly. "I can't think of anything we could possibly do to stop her. And what if the Wraith come and we don't have the energy to do anything because Chaya's been at us? I came this close," he held his thumb and forefinger half-an-inch apart, "to crashing the whole mainframe yesterday. Even my brain is just so much gray matter when I'm this tired."

"How long have you been sleeping?"

Rodney checked his watch. "Since we left Carson's office. A few hours, that's all. I feel like I could sleep for days."

"Just hold on, Rodney. We'll figure something out. There has to be some way of stopping her."

The look he gave her was distinctly skeptical, but for once he actually kept his mouth shut and nodded.

"Now go eat, and you'll see me in the morning." She had no problem with the lie, since technically they wouldn't see her. But she had every intention of seeing them again long before morning.

O~O~O

Carson had set up in adjoining rooms in the area designated as the isolation ward, one with two cots from the infirmary and several video cameras, the other containing the monitoring equipment. Elizabeth was already there, watching the remote feed from the cameras on the display screen of a laptop, while Carson and the EMT, Jane Valenski, applied wireless sensors to John and Rodney. She turned up the audio to hear Rodney griping half-heartedly about the way the mild adhesive on the sensors pulled at his skin. Both men wore scrub pants but were bare-chested.

The two were obviously avoiding looking at each other, but Elizabeth caught them glancing over at each other almost shyly several times. She couldn't blame either man for being attracted to the other. She shivered from a twinge of desire she was entirely unable to suppress, and guiltily thought that she couldn't blame Chaya for wanting them, either.

As she watched, Rodney caught John's eye and quirked his mouth in a half-grin. John blushed yet again, and Elizabeth was fascinated by the way the flush covered his face and crept down his neck to his lightly furred chest. His torso was lean and trim, and not quite as thin as the black shirts made him look.

Rodney, on the other hand, wasn't quite as pudgy as his loose blue shirts made him seem. She'd felt the solidity of his broad chest and shoulders when he'd put a comforting arm around her out the Grounding Station during the hurricane, but it looked like more of the softness had turned to muscle. She was particularly impressed by his smooth, well-defined pectorals.

"Alright, lads, you're all hooked up," Carson said. "Jane and I will be right in the next room, so if you see or hear anything, sing out."

"Wait a moment," Rodney frowned, "what are we supposed to do while we wait? You wouldn't let me bring my laptop."

"You were complaining about how tired you are just a moment ago. Take a nap, Rodney."

It was a measure of how tired he really was that Rodney didn't skewer Carson with a snarky rejoinder, but lay back on the cot and closed his eyes.

Beckett turned his gaze to John with a raised eyebrow, and for his pains received a nice view down the pilot's throat as he yawned prodigiously and settled down with his hands behind his head.

"'Night, Doc," he said quietly.

Moments later, Carson and Valenski joined Elizabeth, turning on the other laptops to show the different sensor feeds.

"I'm a little concerned about the Major's blood pressure," Carson told her. "It's even higher now than it was this morning. The stress is really beginning to tell on him. And Rodney's not half as stroppy as usual. Were you listening to him in there?" Elizabeth nodded. "I gave him several good opportunities and all he did was complain about the adhesive. I'm worried about him, I can tell you. All this explicit talk is very unlike him. Normally I'd have said he'd be even more embarrassed than Sheppard."

"You think they should speak with Doctor Heightmeyer?"

"Kate is very good at her job, but she's also a woman. I think it would be easier for them to talk to a man about this, and I'm probably the best candidate. Although I don't mind telling you I feel desperately inadequate to the task. And I don't see much point in even attempting to deal with the emotional fallout until we deal with the actual problem."

Elizabeth sighed. "In other words, we need to get rid of Chaya."

**you were eager enough when you thought i could help you**

The soft voice seemed to come from all around them.

**you want to watch? i will show you**

Elizabeth heard Carson squeak with surprise and Jane Valenski murmur, "What the –", then a bright light filled the room and something went through her, a spreading heat that tickled the soft folds of flesh between her thighs and wrung a heartfelt groan from her lips. She was barely aware of Beckett beside her, grabbing himself and curling around his groin, whispering, "Bloody hell!" On his other side, Jane leapt to her feet, knocking over her chair as she stumbled out of the room.

When Elizabeth's vision cleared, her eyes were immediately drawn to the viewscreen in front of her, which was showing what looked like scenes from a porno film. John and Rodney were both completely naked and suspended in mid-air, almost hidden by thick, glowing light that swept over them in undulating strands.

**you cannot stop me from taking my pleasure, elizabeth**

The voice was in her head, not transmitted by the audio feed, over which she could hear Rodney moaning John's name over and over, punctuated by the Major's harsh panting.

A moment later, a high-pitched beeping from one of the forgotten medical monitors startled Carson and Elizabeth.

The physician cursed and checked the machine. "It's Sheppard," he told her, "his blood pressure's skyrocketed." He pushed past her and ran for the adjoining door.

When he shoved it open, Elizabeth right behind him, the glow vanished from the room to reveal Chaya in human form, looking surprised and disappointed. John lay on the floor, white-faced and breathing hard. Rodney picked himself up, glaring murderously at Chaya.

"Doctor Beckett, if John is unable to share pleasure with me, you may –" the Ascended Ancient began, only to be interrupted by a snarl from Rodney. The astrophysicist grabbed one of the cots and heaved it at her with furious strength.

The cot passed through the bright squid-like form and clattered harmlessly against the far wall. One tentacle whipped out and passed through Rodney's head. Not a single hair was disturbed, but he instantly folded up like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

A moment later Chaya had vanished.

Part 6: The Long Dark Breakfast-time of the Soul

Carson rose from the chair beside Rodney's bed, his face grave. John, trying to look anywhere but at Rodney's unnaturally still form, noticed that Carson's hands clutched and twisted at each other.

"I don't know how to say this – there's – there's nothing I can do. Rodney is – there's no brain activity. His autonomic functions are all intact, he's breathing on his own, but...he's brain-dead. He's not going to recover from this."

The words made no sense to John at first. He saw Elizabeth turn white and stagger, stumbling back to lean on an empty bed. John moved forward slowly to stand beside Rodney. The scientist's mouth was a little slack, but he breathed slowly and steadily.

"He looks like he's just sleeping," John murmured, bewildered.

"I know, Colonel – John – but he isn't. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"Aye." Carson's shoulders slumped and he stared down at his hands. "There's no brain activity at all. And I'm afraid there's more."

Elizabeth looked stricken, but John just picked up one of Rodney's hands and held it in his own.

"Rodney has a living will, of which I'm the executor. He discussed it with me when we got the go-ahead to come to Atlantis. If he was ever declared brain-dead, he didn't want his life to be prolonged – by any means."

"Then – what are we going to do?" Elizabeth cast a worried glance at Sheppard, who seemed to be oblivious to them.

"Without a feeding tube, he'll starve to death," Carson said bleakly. At Elizabeth's horrified gasp, he continued, "Rodney's medical file specifies his wishes. Rather than wait out a lingering death, he wanted his body placed in the path of an opening wormhole." He paused, then continued, "It's not strictly legal, but Rodney's instructions are very specific. He didn't want to linger if there was no hope."

Tears rolled down Elizabeth's cheeks. "Tomorrow," she choked out. "Tomorrow we'll hold a service...and then –"

Carson wrapped his arms around her as she cried quietly, but his gaze remained on Sheppard, who was silent and still.

O~O~O

A few hours later, Elizabeth was in her office, trying to write a letter to Rodney's sister. She was about to give up and resort to another of Rodney's posthumous wishes, and make up a story that involved Rodney dying heroically while saving a bunch of kids. It sounded so much better than saying:
'Your brother was rendered brain-dead by a semi-corporeal alien nymphomaniac who had been molesting both your brother and the man who was his lover in shared hallucinations, in not in actual, physical, fact.'

On a whim, she typed it into her laptop to see how it would look.

It seemed somehow more believable, more legitimate in the default Times New Roman font installed on all the expedition laptops. She changed it to Comic Sans MS font, and read it again.

'Your brother was rendered brain-dead by a semi-corporeal alien nymphomaniac who had been molesting both your brother and the man who was his lover in shared hallucinations, in not in actual, physical, fact.'

Now it sounded like a joke.

A giggle slipped out of her mouth. In moments, she was laughing so hard her stomach hurt, and between one guffaw and the next she was sobbing, tears streaming down her face.

O~O~O

The infirmary lights had been dimmed for the night. The few patients that had been there earlier had been sent to their own quarters. Only one needed monitoring, and she, too, had been packed off to her own rooms with a nurse to watch her. There were four people left.

John hadn't moved from Rodney's side for hours. He had barely noticed when Carson set a chair behind him and pushed him down into it. He merely clutched Rodney's hand and ignored every attempt to speak to him. Teyla and Ford had both tried, with no results.

Elizabeth sat in Carson's office, letting the steam from a cup of coffee penetrate her sinuses. Her eyes were red and puffy from the tears she was still having trouble holding back.

"Are you sure, Carson? There's really no hope?"

He raised a stricken face to her and she blurted, "I'm sorry – that's not fair of me. I just...it's all so hard to believe."

"Aye, I know. It's hard for me to believe, too, but there's truly nothing to be done – for Rodney, at least. It's Major Sheppard I'm worried about, and I'm not sure there's anything we can do for him, either. He's taken this so hard – I'd no idea there was such a depth of feeling between them."

"I don't think John and Rodney realized it either, until Chaya forced the issue. But the expression on their faces when they look – looked – at each other...I've never seen either of them look at anyone else that way. It's clear now that all that childish bickering between them was leading up to a much closer relationship. And now...it's over even before it started. Carson, what if Chaya comes back for John? We can't stop her. He has such a strong sense of responsibility, I'm hoping that will keep him with us. But if she comes back, if she keeps on – harassing him, I'm afraid he might – might..."

"Do himself a harm?" Carson supplied. "Aye, that's my fear as well. He has a history of putting himself in harm's way to save others – he may decide not to save himself as well next time."

"I wish we could contact Earth. Daniel Jackson has been Ascended – he might be able to tell us some way to do something to Chaya. I feel so helpless."

Carson sighed heavily. "We are helpless, Elizabeth."

O~O~O

"I'm so sorry, Rodney," John murmured to the motionless body beside him. "If I'd only listened to you about Chaya in the first place, none of this would have happened. I can't explain it – I felt this...connection with her, and everything you said to me seemed unimportant and petty. She must have been affecting my mind from the beginning.

"You've always been there for me, Answer Man, from the moment we stepped through the Gate from Earth. Who's going to give us the answers now? I don't think we'll last long without you, Rodney." He rubbed his thumb across the back of the limp hand he held. "I miss you already," he whispered. His eyes burned with tears he couldn't seem to shed. "I miss your touch, your tongue, the feel of being deep inside you. I know every inch of you, and we've barely even touched."

Moving with terrible weariness, not caring who saw him, John climbed onto the bed beside Rodney, resting his head on the broad shoulder, wrapping his arm around Rodney's waist in unconscious imitation of Rodney's own position when they had slept in John's quarters the previous afternoon. He closed his eyes, listening to Rodney breathe, and slipped into an exhausted sleep.

O~O~O

"Coffee?"

"Huh?" Sheppard jerked awake, squinting into the light. The familiar and comforting scent of coffee, so different from its bitter taste, penetrated his sinuses and he reached for the mug even before he knew where he was or who was offering it. The dark liquid was almost too hot, but he gulped it down eagerly, relishing the subtle flavors. The cup was half empty when he put it down with a sigh of pleasure.

"It's good, isn't it? You don't generally expect to get such a good cup of coffee in a place like this."

John's eyes shot open to find Rodney McKay sitting in front of him and busy stuffing a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

"The food's good, too," he masticated noisily. "These pancakes are so light and fluffy, and the maple syrup is the real stuff." He turned to someone on John's left. "Please give my compliments to the cook."

An older woman, her dark hair shot through with gray and piled on top of her head, smiled as she bent over the table to pour more coffee into their mugs. "I'll let him know," she promised. "Would you like another serving of bacon?"

Rodney looked like someone had just offered him a fully charged ZPM. "Fried until it's slightly crispy but not burnt, just like before?"

"Just the way you like it." She turned to John, who was still staring at Rodney. "Is there anything else I can get you? Pancakes, eggs – maybe a plate of grits?"

"Uh – no, no thank you –" he stammered, then his gaze tracked reluctantly up to her. "Did you say grits?"

"I did, indeed." She smiled, and John was inexplicable reminded of his mother.

"Cheesy grits?" he asked wistfully.

She nodded. "One plate of cheesy grits, just the way your mother used to make them."

He watched her go, taking in the blue uniform, with pink apron and white sneakers, then the tables and booths, the long counter with swivel seats fixed along its length, the narrow short-order kitchen on the far side of a high dividing wall, the other people eating meals off of heavy white china plates and drinking coffee from heavy white china mugs. The place had that comfortable feeling of a small town American diner, the kind of place that never really changes its décor or its menu. He'd loved places like this as a child – it had the kind of permanence he'd longed for, but never really knew as a military brat, moving from place to place as his father's assignment changed.

"I'm in a diner," John muttered to himself in bewilderment. "I'm in a – hey, wait a minute! Am I back on the mist-people planet?" He put the coffee cup down sharply and slid out of the booth. "This isn't funny. I know you're not Rodney, so you can just drop the virtual reality."

The thing that wasn't Rodney looked up at him with a perfect imitation of a disgruntled Rodney expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I am the one and only Doctor Rodney McKay, although I don't know who you are; I'm not a 'mist-person', whatever that is –" he actually put down his fork to make air-quotes, " – and if this is a virtual reality, then I don't want to leave, because this is some damn good food."

He picked up the fork and stuffed another chunk of pancake, dripping with syrup, into his mouth. "Now, unless you're actually going to leave and let me eat in peace, sit down and drink your coffee. It's getting cold and you're drawing attention to yourself." He waved a hand at the other diners, but so far as John could see, they were either ignoring him or completely oblivious to him. In fact, they weren't even talking to each other.

He dropped back onto the bench, feeling the green foam-filled plastic compress under his weight.

"So, who are you?" he asked sullenly.

"Pardon?" said the Rodney look-a-like.

"You're not Rodney, so who are you?"

A startled expression spread across the man's face, so much like Rodney that John felt his heart constrict. "I don't know where you've gotten this idea that I'm not me, but it's extremely annoying. And a little disconcerting."

John closed his eyes in frustration. "I must be dreaming. Carson must have sedated me and I'm having some weird, medication-induced dream," he muttered.

"It's not a dream," the waitress said as she slid a plate in front of him. "Although this place isn't exactly real, either, it's more of an...idea. But this really is your friend."

"Rodney McKay," John snarled, "is lying in the infirmary on Atlantis. He's a vegetable. He's brain-dead, and he's never going to wake up, or talk to me, or eat – eat pancakes and bacon ever again!" He felt tears threatening to spill, the result of going for so long on too much stress and too little sleep.

"His body is on Atlantis, yes, but his soul – his spirit, his consciousness – has been forcibly Ascended," the waitress told him.

He gaped at her.

The Rodney-doppelganger looked bemused. "I don't feel like I'm brain-dead. Although I'll admit to being more than a little confused."

"What do you mean, 'forcibly Ascended'? I didn't think that was even possible," John sputtered.

"Technically, it's not," the waitress sighed and slid into the booth next to him, forcing him to make room for her. "I'm bending the rules here, so pay attention. The rest of the Ascended are turning a blind eye to this, because Chaya is actually breaking the rules. But they won't intervene directly, and they won't allow me to do more than nudge you in the right direction – like redirecting you," she smiled at Rodney, "to this place."

"Wait," Rodney pointed his fork at her, "just one second. Are you trying to tell me that I'm a ghost?" He turned his gaze to his own arm and ostentatiously poked himself with the fork. "Ow," he muttered, and gave the waitress a sardonic look. "I really don't think so."

"So how did I get here?" John asked. "I'm not Ascended – am I?" He gave her a suspicious glare.

"Not quite, but I brought you here, too. This place is in-between."

"Oh, how explicit of you. In-between what?" Rodney asked.

"Life and death, body and soul, real and imaginary...in-between. Where do you go when you dream?"

"What kind of answer is that?" Rodney asked irritably.

She shrugged. "The best answer I can give you. And I'm actually being a lot more direct than usual."

"Look, who are you?" John asked, exasperated.

"Who I am isn't important," she told him, "but among your people I've been known as Oma Desala."

Rodney stared at her. "Wait a minute – that name sounds familiar. You're the Ancient who helped Daniel Jackson Ascend, aren't you?"

She made a face. "I hate that word, 'Ancient'. I don't look that old, do I?"

"That still doesn't explain what I'm doing here," Rodney said sullenly.

"Look, why does he know about you and Daniel Jackson, but doesn't know me?" John asked.

"You want me to be a psychiatrist as well?" Oma turned to Rodney. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Er...I was in Antarctica, trying to convince Carson Beckett to use the command chair device, and he launched a drone at Colonel O'Neill's helicopter. Fortunately, and with my not inconsiderable help, he managed to turn it off before rendering the Colonel into so much ground meat splattered over the ice."

"Interesting. My best guess," Oma told John, "is that he's blocked out everything from the day you met each other. There was a certain amount of mental trauma involved in what Chaya did to him, and you are, after all, at the center of all this. He associates his memories of you with the trauma he experienced."

"This is ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with my memory," Rodney protested.

John groaned. "You can't recall the last ten months of your life, Rodney."

The scientist put down his fork. "Will one of you please tell me exactly what's going on here?"

"Look," John said, taking a deep breath, "long story short, there's this Ascended nympho by the name of Chaya who's been...er...well, she's been molesting us."

Rodney stared at him. "Moles—what do you mean, 'molesting'? Like, sexually molesting..." He trailed off as John nodded.

"Is she really ugly?"

"What does that – no," John said grudgingly, "no, she's gorgeous."

"Well then, what's the problem? Who would turn down a beautiful woman who actually wants to have sex with him?"

John's anger at Chaya suddenly boiled over. "What if she doesn't bother to ask if you want it or not? What if you're so tired you can't see straight and she still comes after you? What if she takes what she wants by force if you say no, or messes with your mind so you think you're with someone else? What if you can't touch the person you really want because you can never know if it's real or if it's her?"

Rodney stared at him. "Okay...you seem to have some serious issues about this, but it really doesn't sound all that pleasant after all." He turned to Oma Desala. "Why don't I remember?"

"Chaya attacked you. That's what tipped the scales – why the other Ascended are allowing me to help you."

"So what are you going to do to Chaya?" asked John. "Because I'm seriously tired of her."

"I'm not allowed to do anything to her. But you are. In fact, you could have made her leave you at any time."

"She's Ascended," John said sourly. "She isn't even solid half the time. I can't exactly turn her over my knee and spank her."

Rodney grinned. "Now, that I'd pay money to see."

Oma shook her head. "It will take more than that to convince her that what she wants from you isn't something you can give her, or that she can take from you. Chaya has never been good at taking no for an answer."

"How can we stop her then? I mean," John's shoulders slumped, "nothing so far has made any difference."

"Words cannot express things," she said gently, "speech cannot convey the spirit. When the heart is opened, the truth becomes plain to see."

This elicited a deep frown from Rodney. "Oh no, Ascended riddles. Look, I'm perfectly happy with the plane of consciousness I currently – well, usually inhabit. I'm plenty enlightened already, thank you."

"Wait a minute. You mean we have to...what, show her how we feel? How do we do that?"

Oma stood and picked up the coffee pot. "It isn't something I can tell you. It's like Ascension. You just have to figure it out for yourselves."

They watched her walk away.

John sighed and picked up his fork, stabbing at the plate of grits. "Talking about my feelings is not something I'm good at," he muttered.

"I'm an astrophysicist, not a psycho-analyst," Rodney said grumpily. "And I'm still not clear on why this Chai person is so interested in the both of us, or why that's such a bad thing. Can't we work something out with her, like a time-share or – or taking turns? And I'm not exactly opposed to the idea of a ménage a trois, either, although I suppose you're irredeemably straight, despite the hair." Rodney waved his fork in the general direction of John's head.

John contemplated his scientist, who had gone back to clearing his plate. Any appetite he himself might have had was gone, so he pushed his own plate to the edge of the table.

The last few days had been a revelation for him: realizing just how much he cared for Rodney, how incredibly attracted he was to the man both emotionally and physically. He'd never considered himself to be repressed, just very private and very bad at expressing himself. It was easier with Rodney, who never hesitated to say exactly what he was thinking, who could take the lead himself or let John make the decisions.

He didn't want to lose that.

"I'd kind of like to get used to a relationship between you and me before we start letting anyone else into it, Rodney," he said blandly, although the words hadn't come easily.

Rodney looked up, startled. "'You and me'? You mean...I'm the – the someone else you were talking about? Really?"

"I know you don't remember me, but we've been friends for a while now. I guess the potential was always there, but this thing with Chaya – I'm kind of grateful to her, in a way, because we probably never would have done anything about it if it wasn't for her."

"Have we?" Rodney sounded breathless. "Done anything? Because, you know, you're really incredibly good-looking, and good-looking men – and women – they, well, they aren't usually interested in me, you know?"

"We, um..." John could feel his face turning red, because it was one thing to talk about sex in the privacy of a bedroom, and something completely different to do so in a brightly lit diner full of people. The fact that the people were Ascended Ancients, steadfastly ignoring him and Rodney, wasn't much of a help. He leaned forward and murmured, "That's the point, Rodney. I'm not sure, because Chaya's fooled us several times. I don't know about you, but I can't live that way – never knowing what's real and what isn't."

Rodney's eyes bored into his as he put his fork down, and John tried to put everything he felt, but couldn't put into words, into returning that gaze.

"I want this – us – to be real. It's too important, I don't want to lose it." John held out his hand, palm up, stretching his arm across the table. Rodney looked down at it, then back up to John's face.

"I'm – I don't know if – if I can trust you," Rodney whispered, confusion and apprehension and a longing that made John hold his breath passing over his face. "I don't want to be hurt."

For a moment, John forgot all about Chaya in his need to reassure Rodney. "I think I love you," he said simply.

Rodney's eyes widened, full of wonderment and a dawning joy.

God, John thought, hadn't anyone ever told him that before? Rodney wasn't the easiest person to get along with: selfish, arrogant and opinionated, but also brilliant and funny, braver than he himself knew and more caring than most people would ever suspect. It had been surprisingly easy to fall in love with him.

Their hands met, gripping almost fiercely. For a moment, John could see himself across the table through Rodney's eyes, grinning foolishly; could feel Rodney remembering, in a single glorious, terrifying instant, everything that had happened since the day they'd met; could hear him thinking 'oh god, oh god, does he really mean it? Please let him mean it.'

"Ah, young love," he heard Oma say lightly. "You two are definitely not ready for Ascension."

His vision blurred and suddenly he felt like he was falling. Rodney's hand was ripped out of his, and he let out a cry of protest. Hitting the floor hard enough to leave him momentarily stunned, he blinked rapidly, trying to focus.

The first thing he saw was blank white – then a metal frame surrounding it, and he realized he was looking at a folding privacy screen in the infirmary on Atlantis. John scrambled to his knees and came face to face with Rodney – who was peering over the edge of his bed at John.

They just stared at each other, until Rodney said uncertainly, "John?"

He let out a shout of pure joy and grabbed Rodney, holding him tightly. The scientist squawked in surprise and slid awkwardly off the bed and onto the floor so he could wrap his arms around John.

"What on earth – Rodney?"

"Carson – what's going on?" Rodney tried to pull away from John, but the soldier wasn't about to let go anytime soon. "What's the matter with Sheppard? And why am I in the infirmary? Would you let go for moment, I can't breathe!" He wiggled out of John's grasp, holding him at arm's length, but on catching sight of his face, pulled him back into an embrace. "It's okay, I'm okay," he said softly, looking over John's shoulder at Carson and mouthing 'What the hell is going on?' at the physician.

Part 7: No Squids Allowed

Carson immediately called Elizabeth, who showed up and promptly burst into tears. The doctor kept trying to take Rodney's temperature and blood pressure, and Sheppard refused to let Rodney get more than two feet away from him – even to visit the bathroom – and all in all it took quite a while for all the fussing and explanations to wind to a close.

Rodney covered his perturbation at hearing Carson's diagnosis of brain-death with scathing sarcasm, insisting that Beckett was : (a) trying to get rid of him; (b) a complete and utter incompetent; and (c) had a habit of performing unspeakable and perverted sexual acts with unsuspecting sheep. Carson took it all with a teary smile, patting Rodney on the shoulder and murmuring, "Ye dear, sweet lad," in total contradiction of all available evidence.

Once Elizabeth calmed down, she started asking questions of the 'what happened,' 'how is this possible,' and 'what do you remember' type. Rodney grew thoughtful, shooting bashful glances at John – the expression sat uncomfortably on his face – before muttering something to the effect that he'd dreamed about pancakes and bacon.

"And cheesy grits," John added without thinking, prompting a look from Rodney that was half fearful and half elated. John gazed back, puzzled and uneasy, certain that something significant had happened to them, but unable to recall just what it was.

Carson finally pulled himself together enough to insist on at least a cursory examination, including a blood sample. Rodney acquiesced sullenly, but drew the line at any other 'samples', muttering "vampire" under his breath. Carson smiled sweetly and replied, "I just want to make sure you're not a zombie." Rodney pretended to be affronted, but couldn't keep the appreciative grin off his face.

John, sitting close enough on the infirmary bed for their shoulders to touch, slipped his hand into Rodney's and squeezed lightly. Carson and Elizabeth tactfully neglected to notice, and finally Carson threw up his hands in defeat and declared Rodney to be in perfect health – or at least, healthy apart from the slight hypertensive condition he normally displayed. They were still tired, but it wasn't the bone-deep, debilitating exhaustion they'd felt previously.

"I could declare you both fit for duty, even though I've no idea how someone can just wake up from –"

"Could you not keep saying 'brain-dead', Carson?" Rodney interrupted, shuddering theatrically. "Just the thought makes my blood run cold. There's clearly more going on than your normal voodoo rattle-shaking can detect, so I think I'd prefer to just be happy not to be brain-dead."

"I won't argue that this is something modern medicine – Earth medicine – can't explain. Yet. But I was going to say, what about Chaya?"

"Y'know," John said thoughtfully, "maybe we've been approaching this the wrong way. I may not be the best judge of character –" he paused as Elizabeth raised an elegant eyebrow, Carson tried to suppress a smirk, and Rodney opened his mouth to speak, "— but I really thought we were getting through to Chaya when we went to Proculus to talk to her."

"But you didn't go to Proculus," Elizabeth said, bewildered. "Rodney said –"

"We thought we went to Proculus," Rodney answered her. "It turned out to be another of Chaya's tricks." He shot a sidelong glance at John, who knew immediately what Rodney was thinking about, heat rising in his face. The memory of Rodney impaling himself on John in the PuddleJumper, however unreal it had been, had the power to raise a sudden warm pulse of interest in John's groin. He let out a sigh of relief at the proof that his earlier difficulties really had been due to simple exhaustion.

"Do you remember," John said, "that after that, she told us she didn't care what we did with each other, as long as she got the, um, the –"

"Pleasure?" Elizabeth replied.

"Results?" Carson suggested.

"Orgasm," Rodney completed.

Carson covered his face with his hand. "Too much information, Rodney," he muttered.

Rodney rolled his eyes, then turned to John. "So what is your point?"

"My point is that I don't think she's taking us seriously."

"What d'you mean, not taking you seriously?" Carson exploded. "Brain-death is pretty damn serious!"

"I don't think she has any idea of what it's like to be human anymore. What's one life in the way of something you want when you've lived for ten thousand years? We're not really much more than amusing insects to Chaya – Rodney buzzed her and she swatted him."

Rodney grimaced. "I'm not sure whether I feel flattered or insulted by that comparison."

John wasn't entirely certain where these sudden insights were coming from. This kind of deep thinking about other people's motivations and thought processes wasn't exactly typical of him, but it made an odd kind of sense, even if it came with a strange sensation of repeating something he'd been told by someone else. "We need to show her that we have feelings – that she's hurting us by her actions. We need to really make her see that we're not interested in what she's offering." He turned toward Rodney. "She has to understand that we're serious."

Rodney's eyes grew wide, his expression a combination of eagerness and apprehension, as if the object of his fondest dreams was seemingly within his grasp, but he was afraid to reach for it.

A delicate cough from Elizabeth interrupted what could have easily become a rather embarrassing public display of affection.

"Is there going to be a problem if Rodney and I – look, I know 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' applies to me, but it doesn't apply to Rodney, and we'll keep it quiet – neither of us is particularly interested in letting everyone know that there's something going on between us, and it won't interfere with either of us doing our jobs –"

"John!" Elizabeth raised a hand to stop the flow of anxious words. "'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' means exactly that: I won't ask, and you won't tell, and that's what I'll say to anyone who says anything. As far as I'm concerned, you're both consenting adults, and what goes on between the two of you in private and in your free time is your business, and yours alone." Watching her face, John had the strange thought that she looked a little regretful over that, but dismissed it as his imagination. "And I know that both of you have far too much integrity to allow any relationship to interfere with your jobs." Her voice became gentle. "I'm not just your boss, you know. I'm your friend, and I'm happy for you. I'm just worried about how to get Chaya to leave you alone."

"Back to Proculus?" Rodney suggested, and John nodded.

"It's that or wait for her to come to us again, and I think I'd like to take the fight to her. Maybe take her off guard a little." He glanced at his watch. "It's pretty late. I don't think she'll come tonight. We can go in the morning – say, 0930?" He looked to Elizabeth for confirmation, and she nodded.

"Late? How long was I..." Rodney started.

John squeezed his hand. "Too long," he said shortly.

"Almost a full day, Rodney," Carson answered more specifically, trying to hold in a yawn. "I'm sorry, but I'm exhausted. I've been up nearly two full days now – and those were Atlantean days, not Earth days. I'd like you to stay here in the infirmary until morning, Rodney – now, no arguments, it's just a precaution in case anything happens, so one of the nurses can call me. No, Major, you can't stay with him. I want you to get some rest, too, and I know from past experience that if you're both here, you'll talk when you should be sleeping. I want to run a full examination in the morning, Rodney, and then the two of you can go deal with that – that – well, there's a word for a woman like that, but I'll not use it in polite company. Now, get some rest – that's an order from your doctor."

O~O~O

By the time John reached his quarters, after reluctantly tearing himself away from Rodney, and took a quick shower, the sky had begun to lighten with the first hint of dawn. Although they had woken up feeling physically and mentally refreshed, John could still feel the lingering strain of the emotional stress of the last few days. Carson was right, he had to admit: he needed to get away from Rodney, if only for a few hours, to give himself a little time to process everything that had happened and clear his mind. If he'd stayed in the infirmary, he would have been constantly checking to make sure his scientist was still breathing. He had promised Elizabeth that he could continue to behave professionally, and obsessing over Rodney's health wouldn't be a good start.

He really wasn't tired enough to sleep, so he sat down at his desk and powered up his laptop, groaning at the backlog of paperwork that had accumulated in just a few days while he'd been tired and distracted. Well, if nothing else, it would occupy the time. While he worked, he could try to plan what to say to Chaya, how to convince her that he and Rodney really didn't want her attentions. John was heartily sorry he'd ever met her in the first place, or encouraged her interest, but there'd been something about her...something like the way he'd felt when Atlantis awoke around him, welcoming him, when they had first stepped through the Stargate. Now he suspected that what he'd felt had been what she wanted him to feel, and the only reason she'd let him come back to Atlantis was his negative reaction to the experience of 'sharing'. It still sent a shiver down his spine: the feeling of helplessness, the lack of any emotional connection, the loss of the ability to reciprocate his partner's touch. The term 'sharing' was a real misnomer.

And yet, he still felt sorry for her. She was lonely – she had admitted as much, and he could understand and sympathize, but what she was doing to him and Rodney wasn't the answer. However much he might want to, John wasn't prepared to try to offer her an alternative solution, either, even if he could think of one.

Going through endless reports and trying to figure out how to deploy a dwindling contingent of soldiers to cover all Atlantis' security needs did its usual efficient job of making his eyelids droop. Lost in thought, John didn't even notice when his eyes slid shut and his breath deepened, his hand resting lightly on the laptop keyboard. The screensaver popped up on the screen as his chin dropped to his chest.

A large, calloused hand slipping down inside the neckline of his shirt pulled John out of his doze, strong fingers teasing at one sensitive nipple.

"What –" John opened his eyes and straightened up from his comfortable slouch, clutching at the hand.

Rodney moved around him, shoving the laptop out of the way so he could perch on the desk, nearly straddling John's lap.

"Hello," he murmured, smiling.

"Carson let you go early, huh?" John grinned back. "What did you have to promise him – no more sheep jokes for a month?"

"I don't really want to talk about Carson right now, do you? I'd rather do this –" Rodney leaned forward and pressed his soft lips to John's mouth. A moment later, his tongue was probing at John's lips, demanding entrance, his hand tugging at the hem of John's T-shirt.

It was so easy to melt into the kiss, to let Rodney nip hungrily at his lips, to slide a hand up Rodney's own T-shirt to find one of his hard, eager nipples. So very easy...

John pulled back reluctantly, Rodney trying to follow his mouth with a small moan of disappointment. "Are you sure?" he murmured. "Do you really want to do this now? We could wait – I can wait until we've dealt with Chaya, until we're sure she won't come back..."

"No," Rodney said flatly, cupping John's face with one hand and drawing him back into the kiss, "no, I want you now. Please, John. I can't wait any longer."

A niggling sense of unease made John break the kiss again, even though he wanted it so much it was almost painful. He slid his chair back and stood up, Rodney following his movements with look of petulant disappointment.

"Rodney –" There was something missing, something John couldn't quite put his finger on. His body was ready to go, hyper-aware that what it wanted most was right in front of it, but what he and Rodney had wasn't just about sex – wasn't just physical pleasure, but the solid foundation of a friendship that ran deeper than any John had ever known before. It was shared danger and fear and pain, triumph and excitement, long days and longer nights; the knowledge that he could trust the irascible and arrogant scientist with his life, and with more than his life. They had formed a connection of experience and trust and even love.

And he couldn't feel that connection with the man sitting on the desk in front of him.

John felt something inside himself turn cold and furious. "Chaya," he growled. "You just won't give up, will you?"

He was momentarily blinded by a familiar glow, and when it faded, the most beautiful woman he'd ever met stood before him; but the expression on her face completely destroyed any lingering attraction he might have felt.

"How did you know?" she snapped.

"Dunno, I just did," John replied. "You can't fool me anymore, Chaya. There's no substitute for the real thing."

"But am I not beautiful? Am I not everything a man could possibly want? What could he give you that I cannot?" she raged. "Why don't you want me?"

Before John could answer, she disappeared, then reappeared instantly. She held an astonished Rodney by the arm and shoved him at John, who caught the scientist before he could fall.

"What the hell –" Rodney squawked.

"You should have been even easier," Chaya spat at Rodney. "You should have been begging for my touch. I have had men like you before, they are always pathetically grateful if I so much as look at them. Men like you make the best lovers, you know." She sent a sly look at John. "Men like him, they'll do anything I want, take anything I give them. They are afraid to say no, afraid I will leave them, and then they'll have no one." She turned her attention to Rodney again. "He doesn't really want you, you know that, do you not? He is just using you – trying to make me jealous."

John stared at her, lost for words before the frantic ranting.

"That's it, is it not, John?" she pleaded, switching from furious to anxious with frightening speed. "You want me to be jealous, don't you?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. I don't want you, Chaya. I'm sorry."

She flinched as if he had slapped her, then looked at Rodney. "You are a better lover than he is, Rodney," she said, trying to smile winsomely. "I would make it so good for you, I promise. We will have so much pleasure."

"I wouldn't want you if you were the last woman on Earth – Atlantis – the last woman in two galaxies," his tone was vicious, but the words came awkwardly in typical McKay-style rant.

Changing moods yet again, the Ascended woman let out a shriek of rage, transformed into a glowing ball of tentacled light, and dove at them. John felt Rodney flinch beside him and reached out to push the scientist behind him, knowing that there was nothing he could do against the semi-corporeal Ancient, but ready to try anyways.

Their hands touched and suddenly everything just stopped.

John was in Rodney – not physically, but a connection so close that even their thoughts merged. Sharing with Chaya had been nothing like this: it was still sensual and arousing, but completely unlike sex. Physical contact was a pale echo of what he felt now – he didn't have to strain to get closer to Rodney because they were already closer than skin to skin. He could feel Rodney, feel the lightning quick processes of his intellect, his deep admiration of John, his physical attraction to him, and the almost shy affection that was becoming stronger with every moment. All the niggling doubts he had about Rodney's feelings for him were swept away in a blinding moment of soul-deep understanding.

He could feel the same recognition and awe coming from Rodney, knowing that his own feelings were displayed just as clearly. There was no room for embarrassment – it wasn't even possible with so close a connection.

This was what John had faintly glimpsed, sharing with Chaya the first time on Proculus: something pure and primal and beautiful – a true sharing of minds and souls, every thought and emotion willingly laid out for the other to see. There was no room for outside interference, and John somehow knew – sensing that Rodney knew it as well – that Chaya couldn't reach them on this level, couldn't affect this newfound bond between them.

When his vision cleared, he was still standing, still grasping Rodney's hand. He couldn't stop the huge grin that stretched across his face, and Rodney returned it.

"No!" Chaya howled. "No, you cannot!" She launched herself at them again, this time in human form, fingers crooked into claws. John caught her wrists easily and shoved her away. She stumbled back and fell in a graceful sprawl, tears rolling down her cheeks like liquid pearls. Her face changed again, soft and beautiful like a grieving angel, but her eyes were still cold and furious. She clasped her hands in front of her and begged, "Don't leave me alone. I am so lonely."

"You stupid little bitch, it's your own fault that you're lonely," Rodney snapped from the putative safety of his position behind John. "How the hell do you expect us to react? We told you 'no' – repeatedly – and you just kept on taking what you wanted. And now you think you can bat your eyelashes at us and we'll just roll over and say all is forgiven?"

"He's right, Chaya," John said, trying to be gentle but not really achieving it. "I'm sorry you're lonely, but we can't help you with that."

"You know," Rodney told her – as always, he had to have the last word, "people would be a lot more receptive to your attentions if you didn't rape them."

John winced – Rodney had a real knack for making antagonistic remarks, and this occasion was no exception. But Rodney's choice of words wasn't wrong. It was just hard to hear it spoken out loud, as if that somehow affirmed it, made it more real and less like something he could sweep under the rug of his memories and forget.

Chaya's eyes went wide with surprise, Rodney's words clearly hitting home the way nothing else had before. She stopped her pretty sniveling and stared at him.

"R-rape? No...you had pleasure, I know you did – and I let you have each other, I gave you what you wanted..."

"No," John said, "no, Rodney's right. What you did – what you've been doing to us – it's rape."

"But you had pleasure –" she repeated inanely.

"Whether or not we had 'pleasure' is irrelevant!" Rodney snapped. "We didn't want it!"

Chaya shook her head frantically. "I – I didn't mean – I only wanted –"

"Exactly!" Rodney exclaimed triumphantly. "You wanted it, so you took it. You don't give a damn about anything or anyone else."

John's anger had been building too long to let Rodney do all the talking. "I wish we'd never met you," he told her, his voice hard and cold. "Go home, Chaya. Go home, and don't come back to us again."

Rodney's hand tightened on his own, and the connection flared over them again. This time, John reached out with his other hand and laid it on Chaya's shoulder, acting purely on instinct. He let the memories of the past week flow through his mind. Rodney's own memories, like mirror images, came with them: waking up to anger and resentment, to a longing so sharp it hurt; the sense of violation, of having no control over his body or his life; and the terrible weariness of seeing no way out of an intolerable situation.

He pushed them all at the Ascended woman, determined to show her exactly what she had done to them.

She wrenched away from his grip on her shoulder, staring at them for a long moment, her face inscrutable, the tears gone as if they'd never been there to begin with. Finally, she stood with effortless grace.

"You have what I have always wanted," Chaya said slowly, "you can feel, and touch, and love. I thought – I thought the pleasure I could give you was enough to make up for that. I did not understand how you could truly not want me. It is – it is hard," she faltered, "to have the power and choose not to use it, both to protect my people and to take whatever I please...and I wanted you so very much, John." She turned to Rodney, her voice subdued. "I will think on what you have said. Perhaps – perhaps it is time I stopped being neither one thing nor the other, and make a decision to either join the other Ascended, or lead a mortal life again. I – I am sorry," she spoke the words as if she had never had to say them before.

White light suffused her body as she transformed into the glowing, floating form of the Ascended. A single tentacle reached out hesitantly towards John and Rodney, who immediately stepped back. The tentacle flinched away, then the squid-like apparition slid through the ceiling and vanished.

The two men stared warily at the spot where Chaya had disappeared for a minute, waiting to see if they would wake up and find that it had all been a dream again. Then Rodney took John by the arm and pulled him into a tight embrace and a long, lingering kiss, resurrecting a hint of that soul-sharing connection again.

"This is real," John said in wonderment when they pulled apart. He rubbed his chin, grinning. "Rodney, you really need to shave."

"I need to shave? I think half the skin has been sanded off my face by your stubble, John," Rodney replied, an answering grin lighting up his face. "I guess that's how we know this is real and not one of Chaya's hallucinations – I never got beard-burn during any of those."

A chime from the door startled them, and they jumped apart guiltily. The sound came again, and John said blankly, "It's the door."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "It's probably Carson. Or Elizabeth. Or both," he sighed, and moved to open the door.

It slid open to reveal Carson, panting and red-faced, who sagged with relief to see both men awake and unharmed. "Oh, there you are, Rodney. My nurse swore to me that you'd disappeared into thin air, and in this place, you can't just ignore a claim like that."

"Well, she's right. I did disappear from the infirmary, though not willingly," Rodney replied. "It was Chaya again."

Carson peered worriedly around the room. "She isn't...you know...still here, is she?"

"No, she's gone," John told him, "for good this time, I think."

"Really?" Carson asked just as Elizabeth arrived.

"What happened?" she demanded.

Rodney shrugged. "We talked to Chaya and she went away," he said smugly. "Due, naturally, to my eloquent and persuasive argument." John raised an eyebrow at him, and he quickly added, "With Major Sheppard's invaluable help, of course."

"You mean you just...talked to her? And it worked?" Elizabeth asked, skeptical.

"Seems like it." John answered. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see, but I'm pretty sure we got through to her."

"But – what did you say?" Elizabeth persisted, but when both men exchanged a glance and looked distinctly uncomfortable she retracted the question. "Never mind, it's not important. I just hope it worked."

Carson finally managed to shut his mouth and bring his eyebrows down out of his hairline. "I want you both in the infirmary right away for a complete exam. I don't trust that woman."

"But Carson –" Rodney started.

"No arguments, Rodney," Elizabeth interjected. "I'll make it an order if I have to."

Half an hour later, Carson happily released them with an admonition to get some rest, and Elizabeth promised that they could go back to full active duty the next day if Chaya didn't show up. John and Rodney ended up standing in the corridor outside the infirmary feeling a little lost, not knowing quite what to do with themselves.

"I think..." Rodney said hesitantly, "I think we should stay away from each other today. And tonight. I don't want to, you know, start something if..."

"If we're wrong about Chaya not coming back," John finished for him. "Yeah, I think you're right. I have a lot of work to catch up on, anyways. Might as well get it done now if I'm back on duty tomorrow."

Rodney nodded unhappily, and held out his hand. John took it, holding on longer than a simple handshake called for, watching the color rise on Rodney's face. When he let go, Rodney nodded once, then turned and walked away without looking back.

It was hard to believe, John thought as he walked back to his quarters, that they'd only met Chaya a week ago...and that only a week ago he'd thought of Rodney as a friend, and nothing more...and had been mostly straight.

A hell of a lot could change in one week in the Pegasus Galaxy.

O~O~O

The rest of the day passed in paperwork and doing his long-overdue laundry. John met up with Rodney at lunch and dinner, nearly matching Rodney's appetite. Everything seemed to taste better, the food being nearly enough to distract him from the tantalizing spectacle of watching Rodney inhale his own food with near-orgasmic pleasure. It was nice to actually be hungry again, and not to feel like he had to force every bite down his throat – nice, too, not to be so tired that eating was almost too much effort. It was hard to part ways again at the end of each meal, but he held firm, and Rodney stuck out his chin and nodded sharply before leaving.

John went to bed early that evening, still feeling like he had a lot of sleep to catch up on. He thought it would be hard to fall asleep due to the niggling fear that Chaya would come back again, but he was out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and the next time he opened his eyes, the morning light was streaming in through the windows.

He stretched luxuriously, peered at the floor beside his bed, and smiled. There were no clothes belonging to a certain snarky scientist on the floor; he'd had no dreams about Rodney, or Chaya, or in fact anything at all; and he felt like he'd actually slept for the entire eight hours he'd been in bed.

Briefly contemplating the idea of calling Rodney and spending the entire day in bed, he quickly dismissed it as a bad one, no matter how tempting. John needed a little time to convince himself that Chaya really wasn't coming back, and to get used to the idea of a relationship with Rodney. Nothing to do with McKay could ever be casual, he knew that well enough, and casual wasn't what he wanted anyways, but was he really ready for this? It was the first chance he'd had to think about any future past the next encounter with Chaya, and he could come up with a thousand objections to getting involved with the scientist: his military career, the fact that until now he'd been mostly heterosexual, the somewhat disturbing thought that this was Rodney, of all people, that he was...he was...

That he was falling in love with.

And he was surprisingly okay with that. Thanks to that amazing moment of connection they'd felt, he knew exactly how Rodney felt about him, and that knowledge went a long way towards dispelling his fears and doubts. More than that, Elizabeth and Carson – the two people who had the most influence on his future, apart from Rodney – were okay with it, even encouraging about it.

So why not stop worrying about it, and just be glad? Chaya was right about that much – he had something most people wanted: someone he loved, and who loved him back.

And that, he thought, was surely enough to see them through any difficulties they might encounter.

The rest of that day passed far too slowly, and John saw Rodney only once, at dinner, when Zelenka pulled him forcibly out of his lab. Listening to Rodney rant and rave about incompetent underlings who were, apparently, moments from destroying the lab, or Atlantis, or the entire galaxy, made John feel like everything had finally gone back to normal – or whatever passed for normal here. He sat back and smiled, letting the words flow over him. When the rant began to wind down and Rodney shot a suspicious glance at him, John stretched out his foot under the table and nudged Rodney's ankle. The scientist looked surprised, then pleased, then smug. John leaned forward and said quietly, trying to suppress the shiver of mingled desire and apprehension that ran through him, "My place, in two hours?"

"Yes!" Rodney exclaimed, then cleared his throat and replied a little too loudly, "Of course, Major, I'd be happy to go over those...um, PuddleJumper schematics with you. Just let me finish up a few things in the labs, and I'm all yours. Er, at your disposal. Uh – yes, um, I'll see you later." He stood up hastily, stumbling slightly, and walked away, leaving the remains of his meal for John to clean up.

Rodney showed up five minutes early, which was good since John had been sitting on his bed fidgeting for ten minutes before that. They stared awkwardly at each other, then Rodney impulsively grabbed him and mashed his lips against John's. In moments, it had turned from clumsy to passionate, and they held onto each other tightly, kissing as easily and confidently as if they'd been doing it for years.

John pushed his hands under the hem of Rodney's snug shirt, searching out the prominent nipples that had been teasing him for months. A light flick of his thumbnails over each one produced a gasp and a moan from Rodney, who responded by stroking John through his pants. They were both painfully hard just from the anticipation.

"Don't – don't do that, Rodney, I'm gonna come in my pants," John said breathlessly.

Rodney grinned at him and replied, "I can easily fix that – I am a genius, after all," fumbling with the fastening of John's BDU's. He tried to pull John's very erect cock out through the slit of his boxers, but John lightly slapped his hands away and toed his shoes off before pushing both pants and boxers down to his ankles and stepping out of them. Rodney watched appreciatively, then belatedly remembered his own clothes, scrambling hastily out of them. He stood uncertainly, underwear dangling from his hand, until John took them away from him and tossed them on the floor. With a single finger in the middle of Rodney's chest, John pushed him back towards the bed.

A flurry of quick, teasing kisses and caresses ended with Rodney on his back, John spread over him, pressing his entire body against Rodney's. He was trying to insinuate one hand between them when a loud "OW!" right in his ear made him flinch. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could see Rodney's face.

"What?"

"Your watch nearly emasculated me just now!" Rodney's voice climbed into high-pitched indignation. "You do realize that a loss of capability right now would render all our efforts over the last week useless, don't you? Aside from the fact that I'm kind of attached to my penis, if you castrate me, you'd better believe that you won't be getting any blowjobs from me. Ever."

John slid onto his side, groaning softly at the drag of flesh against flesh, pressing tightly against Rodney so as not to fall off the narrow bed. Rubbing his groin rhythmically into Rodney's hip, leaving a wet trail of pre-come there, he unbuckled the heavy watch from his wrist, pulled the chain of his dogtags over his head, and dropped them onto the floor. Then he reached for Rodney's watch and removed it, as well.

"Now," he drawled, "I think somebody said something about a blowjob?"

A sudden wicked grin lit up Rodney's face, and John found himself pulled unceremoniously into the middle of the bed, Rodney crouched over him on hands and knees and scooting down until he was eye to eye with John's eager erection.

The sight of Rodney focusing his full and considerable attention on that single, precious part of John's body was something he'd had daydreams about – embarrassing, uncomfortable, titillating daydreams. The reality was so much better. Rodney blew a stream of cool air across the weeping head, making John's hips twitch and his cock strain upwards as if searching for Rodney's mouth.

Rodney licked the tip of him clean with a broad swipe of his tongue, drawing a gasp out of John, then plunged his mouth down over the full, hard length, wrapping his lips around the base on the first lunge. Then he pulled back, releasing the flushed head with a salacious pop. John whined in protest, reaching out to Rodney while propping himself up on one elbow.

A delighted smile spread across Rodney's face. He took John's hand, threading their fingers together. He stuck the middle finger of his other hand in his mouth, never taking his eyes off John, then pushed the saliva-slicked finger under John's ass to press lightly against the tender hole.

"Yes, yes, now," John hissed at him, eager to be filled for real, desperate to experience that incredible sense of fullness despite the slight tremor of apprehension that ran through him. Rodney obliged by pressing harder, taking John's cock back into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth at the same time, and John squeezed Rodney's hand and found himself opening almost effortlessly.

"Oh – Rodney, you – that's – I will never tell you to shut up again, never," he ground out, trying not to buck his hips as Rodney did incredible things with his tongue. The scientist pulled off long enough to ask, "Is that a promise?" before delicately licking over the tender skin of John's scrotum. John just gasped and tightened his hold on Rodney's hand.

The single finger stroked deeper into him, a little uncomfortable, but the sensation of fullness and the false memories of Rodney thrusting painlessly deep inside him kept John hard and aroused. It seemed enormous, filling that small channel – how the hell did anyone take more than one finger there, much less an entire erect penis? But all the energy in his body seemed to be gathering at the base of his cock, and Rodney's finger felt almost like it was aiming for that concentration of energy, pushing him up to meet Rodney's wonderful mouth where it covered the flared head.

Rodney rolled his eyes up to meet John's gaze, wide with lust but slightly crinkled at the corners with fond amusement at John's reactions. Suddenly, John wanted him closer, wanted Rodney's entire warm body pressed tightly to his again. "C'mere," he whispered, pulling on Rodney's hand. His scientist was happy to oblige, lifting his head and pulling the finger slowly and carefully from John's ass.

The newly stretched muscles quivered and spasmed exquisitely, making John shudder, almost wanting to demand that Rodney put the finger back and fill it again. But the urge to kiss Rodney was stronger, and as soon as he caught those mobile lips, all thought of his sadly empty passage vanished.

But as wonderful as kissing Rodney was – and it was wonderful, because Rodney tasted of chocolate and coffee and something slightly salty that John realized vaguely was himself – there was something different about it, different from the other times he'd kissed Rodney. Those times had felt real, even if most of them weren't, but there was something more to this, to the press of mouth against mouth, tongues probing and stroking with a hunger and urgency that told him how desperately Rodney wanted this.

John wanted it just as much, and fought to get more of his skin in contact with Rodney's, parting his legs so he could wrap them around Rodney's hips, holding him even closer, licking into Rodney's wide mouth to chase that faint taste of himself. The sense of urgency, the desire to be even closer built swiftly within him until he thought he would burst with it, and then the connection with Rodney that he'd felt when they confronted Chaya flared into life, overflowing his senses until he wasn't sure where he ended and Rodney began. He could feel his own throbbing cock, pulsing tightly between Rodney's thick erection and his own raised thigh, his nipples more sensitive than ever before, sweetly chafed by the broad chest pressed to his. And at the same time, he was aware of Rodney's body as if it was an extension of his own: erection cradled in the crease of John's hip, nipples teased by John's chest hair, sending sparks through Rodney's body right down to his groin.

They groaned at the same time, pushing and thrusting against each other, pulling their bodies closer, arms clutching almost tight enough to bruise. Suddenly the rising pressure reached its peak and overflowed, rushing through them to crash in wave after wave of almost painful sweetness, every spasming muscle and singing nerve a shared joy.

John drifted in a haze of bliss, breath gradually slowing, his body limp with a pleasant exhaustion that held no taint of unwanted attention. He had to pry his eyes open when he felt Rodney's palpable gaze on him, and turned his head to meet eyes gone soft with happiness.

"I want to tell you," Rodney began, speaking with an uncharacteristic diffidence, "and you know, you don't have to say it back, because I know how you feel about me – and isn't that just, just – I can't decide if it's terrifying or thrilling or maybe both – but I...well, I love you." He put his head back down on John's shoulder, the arm laying over John's chest pulling him closer.

Rodney had hit the nail on the head, alright – this thing between them, this connection, was both terrifying and thrilling, and John wasn't sure if he could say the words out loud. Expressing his emotions had never been easy, although Rodney's blunt and sometimes embarrassing frankness had a way of spurring him into being far more open about himself than usual. But if Rodney could say it, why couldn't he? So he did, and it turned out not to be as difficult as it seemed.

The grin that spread across Rodney's face was amazingly bright, and achingly familiar – an expression of unadulterated delight he hadn't seen since their first days in Atlantis – so he said it again, and it was even easier this time.

"I love you."

~finis~