Coming Home 2

by Xanthe

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asx/xanthe/coming02.php
Summary: "Colonel John Sheppard knew, from the moment he first met Dr Rodney McKay, that the man would be trouble."

Rodney had a surprisingly nice day in the infirmary. Carson didn't seem very busy - or if he was, he put his workload on hold. He joined Rodney for a meal which felt relaxed, not like a doctor/patient thing at all, but more like two friends passing some time together. Carson joked around with him and didn't once mention his recent punishment, for which Rodney was extremely grateful.

Rodney was still feeling pretty fuzzy after his hypoglycaemic attack and he didn't demur when Carson insisted he take a nap during the afternoon. In fact, it felt really nice to get some sleep - he hadn't realised just how bad his insomnia had become. Usually there was no way Rodney would have been able to sleep during the day, but Carson sat beside him, reading through some notes, and that was oddly comforting and before he knew it he was coming to, blurrily, to find that five hours had passed.

He should have realised that Carson wouldn't let it go at that though. Only when Rodney had eaten another meal, and was feeling exponentially better, with a full stomach and several hours sleep behind him, did Carson lean forward, gaze at him with those knowing blue eyes, and start in on all the killer questions.

"So, how long have you had the insomnia, laddie?" he asked. Rodney winced. He always knew it was going to be bad when Carson started calling him laddie.

"It's nothing. I've never needed much sleep," he replied. Carson smiled, that tight, toppy little smile that said there was no way he would ever let Rodney get away with that kind of an answer.

Rodney sighed. "The past couple of weeks have been stressful," he admitted. "I needed to get the generators online and I wanted to test a couple of theories about how the city worked which involved setting up some complicated experiments that you wouldn't understand."

Carson grinned, completely unfazed by Rodney's aspersions on his intelligence.

"Do you lie awake at night worrying about anything, Rodney?" Carson asked. Rodney gazed at him blankly. He thought of Jeannie, thought of Bates, thought, inexplicably, of Colonel Sheppard. "The Wraith maybe?" Carson added. Rodney snorted.

"No, Carson. I can promise you I never lie awake at night worrying about the Wraith," he said, truthfully.

"I don't know why the bloody hell not!" Carson exclaimed. "Those little buggers give me the heebie jeebies. It'd be natural enough if you were freaked out by them."

"Well I'm not," Rodney replied firmly.

"So what do you lie awake thinking about?" Carson pressed. Rodney felt his hands start to twitch anxiously.

"Just...I don't want Sheppard to throw me off his team," Rodney said, surprising himself by that admission. Some kind of a knowing look flashed into Carson's blue eyes.

"And why do you think he would?" Carson asked quietly.

"Some of the things Bates said before I punched him." Rodney shrugged. "And man, you have no idea how good *that* felt."

"Ah. Bates. I wondered when he'd come up," Carson murmured. "Is he bothering you, Rodney? Because if he is, there are plenty of people here who can take care of that."

"I am perfectly capable of dealing with Sergeant Bates all by myself thank you very much, Carson!" Rodney growled. "Stop patronising me and don't treat me like an idiot. I may be very many things but stupid is not one of them."

Carson gazed at him thoughtfully. "You didn't answer my question, Rodney," he said softly. Rodney thought about telling his friend but he had a sudden flashback to Bates sitting watching him being punished that morning. He recalled the way Bates had been rubbing himself, getting off on his pain and humiliation. Damnit, he would get back at that bastard, if it was the last thing he did.

"No," Rodney said, tilting his chin forward firmly. "Bates isn't a problem. He isn't a problem at all."

Carson finally released him around seven, with strict instructions that he was not, under any circumstances, to go back to his lab. Rodney was fine with that - he had already decided that he was going somewhere else in any case. He arrived outside a door a few minutes later, and hesitated, steeling himself for what he intended to do next. He'd had enough of being pursued and harassed - it was time to turn the tables and start fighting back.

The door was locked, but that didn't bother Rodney. He knocked first of all, and when there was no reply he used his knowledge of the city to open the door and then stepped inside. The room was in darkness but Rodney didn't bother turning on a light. He just closed the door behind him, and went and sat down.

He put his legs up on the table, feigning a nonchalance at odds with his wildly beating heart...and waited. The marines worked to a very strict schedule so he knew Bates wouldn't be long, and, sure enough, the sergeant returned to his room ten minutes later. He didn't turn on the light, either, just started tugging at his uniform collar to loosen it.

"Hello, Bates," Rodney said softly.

Bates swung round, reaching for his weapon. Rodney gave a wry little chuckle and leaned back to switch on the light on the wall, flooding the room with light. Bates looked at him, an expression of total surprise on his face. That gave Rodney a buzz of pleasure, and he gave a wide grin.

"How did you get in here?" Bates demanded. "I left the door locked."

"Oh, I know this city backwards," Rodney told him. "I know just about everything there is to know about it - including how to bypass a few simple door mechanisms. So, you might want to be careful - with all the stuff I know, you really don't want to piss me off."

Bates gazed at him for a moment, and then his face creased into a broad grin too. "You wouldn't do anything," he said. "You're soft, Rodney."

"Want to bet your life on that?" Rodney asked, in a sinister tone. Bates's mouth set into a hard line.

"Don't threaten me, boy," he snarled. "You're just a sub running wild right now, and what you need is a hard top to bring you into line." Then his expression changed, and he gave a twisted kind of grin. "The way I see it, you're here for a reason right now, whether you've figured it out or not. You want what I can give you, Rodney."

Rodney slid his legs off the table, fighting the rising tide of panic in his gut. Suddenly the whole 'attack is the best method of defence - show up in his room and freak him out' strategy wasn't working as well as he'd expected, and he was acutely aware that he was stuck in Bates's room with no one around if the sergeant decided to turn nasty.

"I told you," Bates said, in a low, soft tone. "I told you that you'd come here. I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away. Now get on your knees, boy, because I'm going to beat the shit out of you before I fuck you." His hands went to his belt and Rodney got up, and edged nervously towards the door.

"I don't think so," he hissed, and then he tried to make a dignified exit, striding purposefully towards the door. He was nearly there when Bates got to him, caught hold of his arm, and spun him back.

"I said, on-your-knees," Bates ground out, pushing Rodney down in the general direction of the floor. Rodney slammed his hand into the other man's belly and broke the sergeant's grasp, only for Bates to trip him as he tried to make another run for it.

Rodney scrabbled around frantically on the floor, trying to get away again, but Bates was too fast for him. "That's right," Bates hissed. "On your knees, where you belong." He grabbed hold of Rodney's hair, pulled his head back, and then traced a finger over Rodney's mouth. "Oh yes...cock-sucking lips...I'll put them to good use," Bates whispered.

"Stick your cock in my mouth and I'll bite the damn thing off," Rodney snarled, twisting helplessly in the other man's grasp. The expression in Bates's eyes made it clear he wasn't going to risk that, but Rodney could feel his hardness against his cheek all the same, and it made him feel physically sick to realise that this was turning Bates on. "I saw you today, you sick pervert," Rodney said. "Saw you when I was being punished...rubbing yourself...."

"What can I say?" Bates grinned. "The sight of you, ass up over that frame, makes me horny. Is that why you're here, Rodney? Did it turn you on too?"

"Let me go," Rodney hissed, and he was surprised when, a second later, Bates did just that. Rodney slumped to the floor but got up quickly. Bates watched him, still grinning, his eyes raking over Rodney's body as if he was mentally undressing him.

"You are such a crappy sub," Bates said. "I'm going to make you beg for it, Rodney. One day, you'll beg me to allow you to suck my cock. It can be today if you want. Do you want it, Rodney. It's hard for you." His hand went down to the front of his pants and caressed the hardness through the fabric.

"If you want to beg me right now then I'll let you suck me. Might be a good way of shutting up your whiney little voice."

Rodney backed away towards the door, and Bates followed him, a dark, intent look in his eyes. "Did you know that Colonel Sheppard has serious doubts about your mental health, Rodney?" he said suddenly, in a sweet little tone. "I saw him today. My bet is that you're going to be taking an enforced break soon - and my other guess is that the only way you're going to be able to get your job back is if you start putting out for me."

"What?" Rodney gasped, horrified.

"Yeah. It's true. Sheppard and me had a nice, cosy little chat earlier. I told him that you're a liability, and he agrees with me. If you still keep acting crazy then I'm going to have them confine you to your quarters for your own safety...and I'll volunteer to be on the guard detail. I'll keep you safe, Rodney, just as long as you're a good boy for me. If you co-operate then I'll get you moved into my quarters, and put my training collar around your neck. Once everyone knows I'm your top, and once you've spent a couple of weeks in here, tied to the bed, nice and meek and mild, then I'll help you win your job back. I'll even help you keep it, just as long as you're a good little sub and let me fuck that soft ass of yours regularly. I heard you give pretty good blow jobs - I'm looking forward to getting one of those real soon."

He caressed his cock again through his pants, and Rodney backed off towards the door, his chest constricting in fear and loathing. He scrabbled for the lock and felt the door whoosh open behind him, and then he was stumbling out into the hallway.

"Real soon, Rodney!" Bates called after him.

Rodney made it back to his own quarters, ran into the bathroom, and then threw up the meal Carson had made him eat.

"Oh shit," he muttered to himself as he lay on the cold bathroom floor after having heaved his guts up into the toilet. "God you're fucked. You are so fucked, McKay."

Rodney spent the next few days doing what he did best when faced with any kind of enormous personal crisis - he buried himself in his work. He literally holed himself up in his lab and pored over the transcripts they'd copied from that Ancient temple. They weren't written in Ancient, but in an Ancient numerical code, which was unusual, and for that reason alone, Rodney was pretty sure he was the only person on Atlantis who'd be able to decipher them.

Elizabeth dropped by, fascinated by what he was working on, and for awhile things were like they used to be between them, as Rodney explained, in super-fast tones, why the code was so exciting, and Elizabeth smiled at his obvious enthusiasm and asked what even Rodney had to concede were fairly intelligent questions.

Four days later he bounded into her office, interrupting a meeting she was having with Sheppard, and threw his laptop triumphantly onto her desk.

"Eureka!" he said excitedly, bouncing around the room, barely able to contain himself. Sheppard grinned at him.

"Damnit but I really would love to play poker with you," he commented.

Rodney grinned back at him. "I would lose, spectacularly, but on this, on being a brilliant genius capable of translating 10,000 year old Ancient numerical code language, on *this* I totally win and everyone else totally sucks," he proclaimed happily. Sheppard rolled his eyes, still grinning. Elizabeth was busy looking at the data he'd placed in front of her, her eyes wide and fascinated. Rodney couldn't even begin to contain the chirrup of pride that escaped his lips.

"These are all co-ordinates to planets with ZPMs?" she asked.

"Yes! ZPMs!" Rodney's hands did a little dance of glee entirely of their own volition. "Of course, this data is 10,000 years old so who knows if the ZPMs are still there but at last we have a lead - and look, there's three of them. Three potential ZPMs! When can we leave?"

He whirled around and addressed that last comment to Colonel Sheppard without pausing. The colonel placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hold on, McKay... let me see the data first before you go saddling up the puddle jumpers," he grinned. He kept his hand on Rodney's shoulder as he bent over the laptop and Rodney took a deep breath, calming down from his previous level of high octane excitement. This was good! ZPMs! And maybe this discovery would help him get the respect he felt he deserved around this place.

"Well, we haven't been to any of these places - so why don't we start at the top?" Sheppard suggested. "RGT-9650."

"Great. Fantastic!" Rodney slid out from under the colonel's hand and bounced over to the door.

"Uh...not right this minute, Rodney," Sheppard said, in that amused drawl of his. "We'll need to prep."

"Agreed," Elizabeth said, nodding slowly. "Also, I'm presuming we won't just encounter a ZPM sitting by the gate so you might be gone for some time - and that means you'll need supplies, and I'm also going to suggest you take a squad of marines with you for backup. This is too important to screw up."

"Yeah." Sheppard nodded his head, in a maddeningly slow way, clearly considering all the mission requirements. Rodney sighed.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Six a.m." Sheppard grinned at him again. "Good work, Rodney!" Rodney felt a glow of pride that warmed him from the inside out, and it was as if he was walking on air as sauntered back to his lab. This - this - was why he was on this expedition.

RGT-9650 was a planet of dense forest but it was at least sunny when they stepped through the gate. Rodney judged that the time was somewhere around early afternoon, which gave them a few hours to look around before it got dark. Rodney unearthed some directions to another ruined temple, etched into a way-stone by the gate, and that saved them several hours searching.

The only difficulty was the large, bat-like creatures that kept making bomber dives on them every few minutes. They weren't dangerous as such but they delivered a few nasty scratches to people's heads and necks, and made proper exploration of the temple impossible. Sheppard and his team of marines were kept busy firing at them to scare them away, while Rodney and *his* team of scientists were constantly interrupted in their study of the Ancient ruins by the creatures.

After one of them nearly bit Rodney's ear, which Rodney complained about, vociferously, for a full ten minutes, Sheppard finally called for more backup. Half an hour later, another squad of marines came through the gate and Rodney stiffened as he saw Bates leading them towards the offworld team.

Bates barely looked at him though - as punctilious as ever when in the presence of others, he was every inch the professional soldier, saluting at Sheppard, and then ordering his men to sweep out and keep their guns ready to fire on the bat creatures.

Rodney relaxed. There was no way Bates would try anything out here, and he was too stoked up on the excitement of possibly being on the same planet as a ZPM to take much notice of the sergeant.

The day wore on, and the team spread out - the ruins were huge, and most of the etchings on its walls were some kind of religious mumbo jumbo that was much too recent to have been done by the Ancients, but Rodney was convinced there had to be something more if they just kept on looking.

As evening fell, they heard a noise from the direction of the stargate and Sheppard took a small team of marines to investigate. Rodney wandered down some old stone steps into a little ante-chamber and fumbled for his flashlight in the twilit room.

"Found anything?" a voice behind him asked.

"Not yet - the likelihood is that this room was used by some kind of elder, perhaps for robing ceremonies or secretarial work, and there's therefore more of a chance that there's some kind of secret message transcribed on the walls, rather than the hocus pocus we saw in the main chamber," Rodney said absently, and then he froze, recognising that voice. An arm went around his waist from behind, and he felt lips press against the back of his neck.

"I've wanted to get you alone all afternoon," Bates whispered into his ear. Rodney pushed back but only succeeded in dropping his flashlight, plunging the entire chamber into darkness. Bates laughed. "Such a klutz. I'm surprised Sheppard even allows you out on your own.

"Let me go," Rodney said, in a tight voice, squirming in Bates's grasp. He was a big man but Bates was a trained soldier, and his hard, toned muscles were more than a match for Rodney's softer bulk.

"You've been teasing me," Bates said. "You keep bending over to look at stuff written down by your feet, and I keep thinking about how good it'll be to finally get my hands on that fat ass of yours and fuck it long and hard."

"I told you that's never going to happen," Rodney hissed. "How much more obvious do I have to make it?"

"You're the kind of sub who has to be railroaded," Bates told him firmly, his lips brushing the back of Rodney's neck again, making him shudder. "You don't know what you want but you will when you feel my hard cock slamming into your ass. You'll know then."

"Do it then," Rodney said angrily. "You keep on threatening so just do it. What's stopping you, Bates?"

"I don't want to take you by force, Rodney - there wouldn't be any fun in that. No, I want to see the look in your eyes when you surrender to me. I want the joy of seeing you beg, on your hands and knees."

"I don't beg," Rodney said haughtily. "And if you're waiting for my consent then you'll have a damn long wait because that's never going to happen."

"Oh I think it will," Bates said softly. "Sheppard already thinks you're crazy - and with the way you keep acting out it won't be long before you screw up again and then I'll insist they bench you - you're clearly not safe to have around. I've got it all planned out, Rodney, and I can wait. It'll be all the sweeter to wait, to wait until you have nowhere left to go except my bed. I can smell your humiliation now, can see just how good you'll look on your hands and knees, crawling over to me and asking me to put you out of your misery and fuck you."

Rodney stood there, just gazing into the darkness, numb. Would it be so bad, he wondered, just to give Bates what he wanted?

"I'm a lousy sub. You'd soon grow tired of me," he said wearily. Bates's arm tightened around his waist, and Rodney felt his semi-hard cock digging into his buttocks.

"I'll train you up," Bates promised. "I have a fine collection of whips. I can guarantee I'll soon have you licked into shape." And with that he ran his tongue over the back of Rodney's neck, smearing saliva into his skin. "Soon, Rodney," Bates promised. I give it a couple of days - a week tops. Then you'll be mine." At that moment there was a commotion outside, back in the main chamber. Bates pulled away, quickly, and then Rodney heard him push on further into the depths of the temple.

Rodney stood there for a moment, trying to collect himself. He reached up and wiped the back of his neck with his sleeve, feeling dirty, and then he felt a rising tide of anger so furious that he couldn't stop himself from slamming his fist against the wall. The momentary pain brought him up short, and he gave a silent howl, but at least it distracted him from the memory of Bates licking his neck. Then he heard footsteps on the stairs leading down from the main chamber, and a second later a flashlight shone in his eyes.

"McKay?" Sheppard's voice. "We have to get out of here. Quick - there are wraith ships out there." The flashlight came close and Rodney caught sight of Sheppard's worried hazel eyes. "Anyone else down here with you?" Sheppard asked.

Rodney didn't actually consciously think about it, but if he had, he was pretty sure that he'd have given the same answer. He shook his head.

"No," he said. "Nobody else. I came down here alone."

"Let's get moving then." Sheppard ushered him back up into the main chamber, pushing him up ahead, clearly worried. The main chamber was empty, and the sun had almost set, casting the ruins in a shadowy light, making them look ten times more spooky than they had that afternoon.

"Great - you've found him," Ford said, running up. "I've already taken all the scientists through the gate, Colonel.

"Good - everyone accounted for?" Sheppard asked, starting to jog out of the chamber and back towards the forest.

"Everyone except Bates, sir," Ford said.

Sheppard came to a halt and glanced back at the temple. "Did you see him back there?" he asked Rodney.

Rodney shook his head again, glancing nervously back at the temple, hoping Bates wouldn't appear. "Nope. I saw him leave when you first sounded the alarm, Colonel. He must have headed back to the gate on his own."

"You sure?" Sheppard frowned.

Rodney nodded. The lie had already been told. There was no point backtracking now. "Positive."

Sheppard tapped on his radio. "Sergeant Bates..." he began, but at that moment a wraith ship screeched overhead. "Run!" Sheppard ordered, pushing Rodney out of the way of the beam. Somehow they got separated from Ford in the melee, and it was just the two of them, zig-zagging through the forest.

Rodney could feel his chest pounding and he was grateful that Sheppard seemed to know where they were going as he'd lost his bearings completely. Sheppard kept nudging him with a hand on his shoulder, and eventually they emerged into a clearing. Rodney saw the gate directly ahead but there was a wraith ship circling overhead.

"Run for the gate while I cover you! I'll shoot at the ship to keep it away," Sheppard yelled. Rodney hesitated. "Do it!" Sheppard commanded.

"What about you?" Rodney asked breathlessly, leaning his hands on his knees, too out of shape for such a long jog over such difficult terrain.

"I'll be right behind you," Sheppard said.

"Let's run it together," Rodney suggested, not liking the idea of Sheppard staying behind to be scooped up by the Wraith.

"No!" Sheppard yelled, over the screeching sound of the dart overhead. "Go!"

Rodney thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "Together," he said obstinately, sticking his jaw out. Sheppard gave him an exasperated look and then, finally, he grabbed Rodney's arm and they both started running.

It was only a short distance to the gate but to Rodney it felt like miles as they ran, Sheppard firing furiously into the air the entire time. They got to the gate just as the wraith ship swooped towards them, its beam sweeping the ground. Sheppard pushed him through, and then tumbled in after him, and they arrived on the other side together, in a tangle of limbs.
~*~

John got to his feet, held out a hand to Rodney, and hauled him to his feet.

"Close shave," Rodney said, grinning at him.

"You are going to have to learn to follow orders when we're offworld," John told him, rolling his eyes at him.

"Hey - we both got back safely, and if we'd done it *your* way it's likely you'd be in the belly of a wraith ship right now," Rodney told him, those blue eyes of his gleaming. John shook his head in disgust.

"Incorrigible," he muttered under his breath as he turned towards Teyla.

"Did Ford make it back okay?" he asked her. She nodded.

"Just a minute before you, Colonel. Everyone is accounted for except for Sergeant Bates."

"Bates?" John whirled around and looked at Rodney. "I thought you said you saw Bates running for the gate just after I sounded the alarm." Rodney looked at him from wide, innocent blue eyes.

"I thought I saw him," he shrugged. "Maybe I was wrong."

"Oh for Chrissakes, Rodney! That wasn't what you said back there! You said you were positive you'd seen him leave."

"Did I? I thought I said I was pretty sure he'd left but couldn't swear to it," Rodney said, glancing at John through his eyelashes. John had been lied to by enough wilful subs in his time to know what was going on here, and he fought down a wave of anger.

"Great. Now I'm going to have to go back for him," he growled.

"Or you could just leave him there. He's a grown man..." Rodney began.

"I don't leave men behind!" John snapped. "Not now, not ever, no matter what. Now you, stay here. Don't move, don't go anywhere, don't do anything until I get back. I want a few words with you."

John unholstered his gun and glanced up towards the control room.

"Dial the gate again. I need to go back!" he yelled, He turned back towards the gate and was surprised when Rodney grabbed his arm.

"No...no, no, no," the scientist said, a note of panic in his voice. "You're not going back through alone! There are wraith ships out there!"

"That's precisely why I'm going alone," John ground out angrily.

"Wait, no, this isn't what I wanted...." Rodney bit on his lip. John grabbed his arm, hard, and took him to one side.

"What did you want, Dr McKay? For Bates to get scooped up by the Wraith? For Bates to die out there? Is that what you wanted?"

Rodney shook his head, those blue eyes of his looking horrified. "No. No. That isn't what I wanted, either," he whispered. "I didn't mean...look, let me come back with you. We can find him together."

"No. You'd be a liability," John said and Rodney drew back, a strange, crumpled look on his face that John didn't understand at all but he didn't have time to consider it. He just turned and threw himself back through the gate without another word.

It was now dark on the planet, but there were three pale moons overhead, giving him just enough light to see a lone figure lurking in the tree line, gazing apprehensively at the wraith dart that was patrolling above the gate.

"Bates!" John roared over the sound of the hovering dart. "Run for it. I'll cover you." The sergeant nodded, and started running, and John took up position and fired at the dart, forcing it to move along, out of beam's reach of either of them. Bates was fast, and a few seconds later they were both able to run back through the gate.

Rodney was still hovering where John had left him, that anxious look on his face. "Oh thank god, Colonel," he said, running over when John was through the gate.

"You, come with me," John hissed, grabbing hold of Rodney's arm and propelling him towards the stairs, and then up towards Elizabeth's office. He strong-armed Rodney through the door, mentally clicked it closed behind them, and then turned on the scientist.

"What the hell was that about?" he demanded. Elizabeth got to her feet, startled.

"John - what's going on? Teyla just radioed to say everyone was back safely."

"Yeah - no thanks to McKay," John snapped. "I'm struggling to understand this right now, McKay - but did you tell me a deliberate lie that resulted in a man nearly dying out there?"

Rodney thought about that for a moment, and then he gave a world-weary kind of smile and stuck his jaw out in that obstinate way of his.

"Yes, you know, I think I did," he said.

"Damnit!" John turned away in disgust.

"Rodney - I don't believe that," Elizabeth said, gazing at Rodney intently.

"It was Bates," John told her. "The man we left behind because Rodney told us he'd gone on ahead was Bates."

"Oh. Okay. *Now* I kind of believe it," Elizabeth sighed. "But still, Rodney, would you really go this far? Throwing a punch is one thing but leaving a man to get taken by the Wraith? I just find it hard to believe you'd do something like that."

"I didn't think he'd get taken," Rodney snapped. "I just thought it'd scare him a little. I told Colonel Sheppard I'd go back and get him but he wouldn't let me."

"Well at least that's something," Elizabeth said, but her hazel eyes were hard and angry. "You've gone too far this time, Rodney," she said. "I honestly despair of you." Rodney rocked back on his heels, a completely unreadable look in those blue eyes of his. "Why would you do something like this?" Elizabeth asked.

John was struck by the shadow that flitted across Rodney's eyes in response to that question, and he frowned. Something wasn't right here - something that niggled away at him but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Rodney gazed at Elizabeth, and then he glanced sideways at John, as if searching for something, beseeching for something. For a second John thought he saw an answer in Rodney's eyes but then it was gone, and Rodney just shrugged, making no reply.

"Rodney," Elizabeth said in a warning tone. At that moment there was a knock on the door, and Sergeant Bates entered the room. He didn't even look at Rodney, just stood to attention.

"My lady, Sir - I've just heard that Dr McKay deliberately conspired to leave me behind back there," he said, in crisp tones. "I no longer feel safe working with Dr McKay, and I'd like to request that he be removed from his position."

Elizabeth sat down with a sigh, and John felt for her. This was a mess, no doubt about it.

"Sergeant - Dr McKay is a senior member of this expedition with expertise that we sorely need - expertise that could save our lives," she said wearily.

"You'll forgive me for not finding that very reassuring when he doesn't seem to have a very high regard for *my* life," Bates said.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll consider this. Rodney - as you've given no defence, please report to the punishment room at eight this evening to take your twenty strokes." John was watching, but not a flicker of emotion crossed Rodney's face. "You're also suspended from duty for now," she said, and this time the reaction was immediate - but it wasn't the outrage that John had been expecting. Instead, it was more akin to a wry and hopeless resignation. "Zelenka can take over your work until I've given this matter some thought," she added.

Rodney gave her a tight little nod, accepting her decision without question, which of and by itself John found strangely puzzling for someone as vocal and argumentative as McKay. Then the scientist turned to go. He brushed past Bates on the way out, and the sergeant shuffled to one side, and, as he did so, he muttered something to Rodney. It was only one word, and John wasn't close enough to be sure he'd heard correctly, but it sounded like Bates had said 'tonight'. Rodney flinched, and he turned and looked at Elizabeth, and opened his mouth, but she shot him such a forbidding look that he just closed it again, and left the room without saying another word, his shoulders slumped and defeated. Elizabeth excused Bates, leaving the two of them alone together.

"This is really ugly," she murmured.

"Yeah." John leaned against the wall, trying to put his finger on this nagging feeling he had, deep in his gut, that things weren't exactly as they seemed. There was just something...something.... "Elizabeth," he said suddenly, surprising himself. "Will you let me perform the punishment this evening?"

Elizabeth frowned. "Technically speaking Rodney doesn't come under military jurisdiction," she said.

"I know," John nodded. "But...nothing we've done so far has worked, and this situation is getting out of control. Now, we're stuck out here, and, as you said, Rodney is pretty much our only hope of surviving - we can't ignore that, any more than we can ignore him deliberately putting a man's life in jeopardy. However...I think we have to take some responsibility for the way he's behaving right now."

She raised an eyebrow and nodded her head, indicating that he should continue.

"That first time he was punished - following the jello incident?" She nodded again. "I made some enquiries and I think that whole event was more complicated than we realised. I'm sorry I didn't tell you - I thought I'd taken care of it - I had no idea it would escalate like this. However - punishing Rodney for that - I think it kind of broke him," John said quietly. "He's a proud man and he was desperately humiliated by it - to the point where he seemed to give up caring. So, I think we kind of owe him."

"I'd hate to think we did this to Rodney," Elizabeth said, her eyes dismayed.

"I don't think we did - not entirely. There's clearly something else going on with him, and I think he was already kind of losing it before we got our hands on him, but I don't think what we did helped any - it just pushed him another few steps closer to the edge."

"Are you suggesting we don't punish him this time?" she asked. "Because I really don't think we can do that. I can't be seen for a moment to be condoning what he did this afternoon - and Bates will make sure that word gets around about it. I'll have a mutiny on my hands if he's not punished."

"No. I agree. He has to be punished. Whatever the circumstances, you can't leave a man out there at the mercy of the Wraith," John said firmly.

"And why do you think it will help him if you perform his punishment instead of Peter?" Elizabeth asked.

"I just want to break up the dynamic a little," John shrugged. "He's kind of used to the routine of being punished - it's not working for him, and it's not getting us anywhere, so I think we need to shake him up a little by doing it differently. Also, I like Rodney - and he's on my team. He seems to value that, and I think it might have more impact if I punish him."

"Well...okay," Elizabeth sighed. "Anything's worth a try at this point I suppose."

John went to the mission debriefing, grabbed a bite to eat in the mess hall, and then stopped by Major Lorne's office to give him a very important instruction. After that he returned to his quarters to take a shower before changing out of his BDUs and into his more usual outfit of black leather pants and black tee shirt. He felt more comfortable once he got into his everyday clothes - they fitted him like a second skin and he needed that right now.

He was nervous about performing Rodney's punishment which was odd of and by itself because he was used to handing out punishments to his men. This was different though. This was complicated, and he didn't want to do anything that would make the situation worse. Finally, drawing on years of experience as a top, he decided that he'd keep a close eye on Rodney and play it by ear. He had a pretty good idea of how he'd go about this but a lot would depend on Rodney.

John got to the punishment room ten minutes early and he used the time to push the frame to one side, and put a chair facing him, and then, having got the room as he wanted it, he sat down on a chair and waited. Rodney showed up exactly on the dot of eight, as John had known he would, and the scientist hesitated in the doorway, blinking in surprise.

"What's going on?" He glanced at the empty chairs. "Where's my loving audience?" he queried, in a bitter tone.

"You know...I don't think anyone's coming today," John said. Rodney gazed at him suspiciously.

"Why the hell not?" he asked. John shrugged.

"Come on in, Rodney, and shut the door behind you," he said.

"I don't understand." Rodney stood there, his blue eyes confused. "Why wouldn't they come? I'd like to believe it's because they all love and respect me too much to want to see me being punished but we both know that's not the case." He gave a bitter, mirthless little laugh and John felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Come in, Rodney," he said again, in a more gentle tone.

Rodney bit on his lip but he did as ordered. John beckoned him over. "Come and sit down," he said, patting the chair he'd placed opposite him.

"Sit down? Is this...am I being punished tonight?" Rodney demanded. "Because if not, I'd like to go back to my quarters. It's been a long day, and I've had to do far too much running."

"You are being punished, Rodney," John told him. "So you're not free to go."

"Wait...wait, wait, wait...." The look on Rodney's face was so horrified it was almost comical. John raised an eyebrow, wondering what the hell was coming next. "Oh god, please tell me you're not going to be the one punishing me," he hissed. John gave a wry smile.

"Yup," he said.

"Why?" Rodney demanded. "And what happened to the whole 'you're on my team now' thing?"

"All the more reason - it was me you lied to, and you did it while you were under my command when we were offworld," John replied.

Rodney gazed at him, those blues eyes of his still aghast. "But I'm not military!" he protested. "You have no right...and Elizabeth has no right to order this!"

"Something had to change," John told him firmly. "Clearly the old routine wasn't working - time to try something new."

"I don't like it," Rodney growled.

"That's kind of the point," John replied. "Now, come and sit down."

Rodney sighed, loudly. "Oh god. This goes from bad to worse. There's going to be some kind of lecture first, isn't there?"

"Not really. I just wanted to talk." John shook his head.

"See - those words never bode well for anyone," Rodney grimaced, but he did finally walk over and sit down opposite John.

"What's going on with Bates?" John asked bluntly. Rodney got straight up again and began walking back towards the door. "Sit down, McKay. I'm not done with you yet," John said, in his most commanding tone. Rodney hesitated, the muscles in his back tight and tense, and then, with a sigh, he turned around and came back to the chair.

"Nothing is going on with Bates," he said quietly. "I just don't like the guy."

"Okay." John nodded slowly. "There are plenty of people I don't like but I wouldn't let them become wraith fodder."

"Well maybe you're a nobler person than I am," Rodney shrugged.

"Or maybe you have more reason to dislike him than I know about," John pressed. Rodney glared at him but remained mute. John sighed.

"Have you ever thought about finding a top, Rodney?" he asked, surprising himself with that question. Rodney flushed, angrily.

"I don't want a damn top!" he snapped. "I'm not even looking for a top! The last thing I want is some stupid dominant marching around giving me orders. I *like* being single."

"I was just thinking - it might give you some grounding."

"Yeah. Right. Because everything's about sex, isn't it?" Rodney shot at him. "God you're impertinent, Colonel, and regardless of what happened today I don't have to answer these kinds of questions, so either punish me or let me leave!"

"I'm sorry," John said quietly. "That was out of line. I just wondered why you're so unhappy."
Rodney gazed at him, his blue eyes suddenly big. John took a sharp intake of breath. "You *are* unhappy, Rodney," John said softly. "I'm not just talking about the way you behave towards Bates - but look at how you are with Elizabeth half the time. Now, I know that's not like you, because Carson sings your praises, and Radek thinks the sun shines out of your ass."

"He does?" Rodney looked surprised. "Well, of course, I *am* brilliant. He must find it a humbling experience working with me."

John swallowed down a laugh. "I'm sure he does, Rodney," he murmured. "So what's going on? Why are you so unhappy?"

Rodney gazed at him with those big eyes again and for a moment John thought he might have had a breakthrough, as Rodney looked for just one second as if he trusted him enough to reply...and then the moment passed, the shutters came down again - and that guarded look was back in Rodney's eyes.

"Ah. Very good, Colonel. Did you learn that little empathy trick in some leadership seminar, hmm?" Rodney asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry," John said simply. Rodney frowned, wrong-footed.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I should have apologised before for that jello incident. I did make enquiries and I know that there was some provocation there. I thought I should let you know that I'm sorry about that. As I mentioned to you before, I did discipline the men in question."

"It was a public punishment. A public apology might have been more appropriate," Rodney said softly. John inclined his head.

"You're right. I didn't think of it that way. I'm sorry about that too. I'm not your enemy, Rodney. I like you - and I like having you on my team."

"Really?" Rodney's expression brightened momentarily, and then faded. "Well, tough, I guess, because I'm on suspension now."

"Hopefully not for long," John said.

"Well..." Rodney gave a tight, twisted little smile. "Maybe not. If I do what...what is expedient, then maybe not. Is it worth it though? Is my job worth that? I guess that's what I'm trying to figure out right now."

"What do you mean?" John frowned, wondering what the hell Rodney was talking about. "What do you mean by doing what's 'expedient'?"

"It doesn't matter. It'll be all over by tonight, one way or another." Rodney shrugged. "Now, are you going to punish me, Colonel? I think Elizabeth mentioned twenty swats." He got up and went over to the punishment frame. "This seems to have been pushed into the corner." He put his hand out to move it.

"Leave it. I put it there. We aren't doing things that way," John told him.

Rodney turned, startled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that this will be different," John said firmly. "Now unfasten your pants and get over my knees please."

"What?" Rodney asked, looking completely aghast. "Oh come on, Colonel! No way!"

"The frame wasn't working. We're trying something different."

"It's illegal!" Rodney snapped. "You don't get to perve over me, Colonel."

John glared at him. "Pipe down, McKay - I don't appreciate that kind of accusation. We're out here, in a completely different galaxy, all alone, and we're having to muddle through right now and do the best we can. So, you can either get over my knee and take your swats from my hand, or you can wait until tomorrow and I'll have Elizabeth arrange it so that Peter can blister your ass with the cane in front of a jeering crowd. So what's it to be?"

"The cane?" Rodney bit on his lip.

"Yeah. Twenty with the cane - because if Bates really wants to then he can make a case for attempted homicide and Elizabeth wants to head that off. So that was what she said to me - you either take what I hand out, or you come back tomorrow and take something much worse. It's up to you."

John sat back and waited. Rodney thought about it, and the minutes ticked by, really slowly. John watched the play of emotions cross his face as he weighed it up, but, eventually, his shoulders slumped in resignation, and he gave in.

"It's wrong," Rodney said at last, walking towards him, his hands going to his belt.

"No. It's unusual - it's not wrong," John said.

"Why are you doing this?" Rodney stood there, looking utterly miserable, and John couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He knew this had to be hard for Rodney - an over the knee spanking was something intimate, something delivered by a lover, a parent, or a good friend. It was still a punishment, but it was also a gesture of caring and trust, and Rodney didn't find it easy to trust anyone. No wonder he was struggling with this.

And it *was* unusual - judicial punishments were impersonal affairs and an implement was always used, but John didn't have any intention of using a paddle or strap - he didn't think that would reach Rodney in the frame of mind he was in right now, and he really wanted to reach Rodney, before things escalated even more. They needed Rodney too much to just give up on him.

"Because you've had a hard time lately," John replied softly, firmly. "And because I want to help."

Rodney's eyes shone an intense shade of blue and he gazed at John helplessly. John gazed back at him, willing him to trust him. Finally, something seemed to give way, and Rodney put his head down and undid his pants, and then lowered himself over John's knee. He was slightly awkward about it because of the situation, but he had the air of a practised sub, and was soon in position.

John took a deep breath. He had known this might be hard for Rodney, but he hadn't appreciated that it would be hard for him too. Intimacy went both ways after all. John reached for Rodney's pants and slowly pulled them down, along with his boxers, to just beneath Rodney's ass, and it was only then that he realised that he'd just made a huge, giant mistake.

There was a reason why judicial spankings were impersonal - and John figured that out a minute too late. He was an experienced top, and he'd handed out a lot of over the knee spankings in his time, but only to lovers, and, a couple of times, to young men under his command who needed a firm but essentially kind hand. He had thought this spanking fell into the latter category, had thought he could easily play the concerned, stern role that he thought Rodney needed right now, but instead he was hit by a wave of something so intense it took him completely by surprise.

This felt right. It didn't feel like a role he was playing in order to save Rodney from himself. It felt like something he wanted to do, and to do often, not to punish Rodney, but to have him, to keep him, to hold him, to touch him, to *own* him.... Rodney's weight was solid on his thighs, and John wanted to reach out and stroke his back, the way he might do with a lover, calming and gentling him before a spanking. He had been insulted when Rodney had accused him of wanting to perve over him, but now he suddenly felt uncomfortable in this position. He just hadn't anticipated this response. He didn't even want to look at Rodney's ass, because he wasn't sure he could trust himself not to want to caress it, and that would be taking the worst kind of advantage of Rodney.

John took a deep breath, and tried to collect himself. He had no idea what was going on. He'd dismissed any idea of taking Rodney as a sub weeks ago. The guy was nothing but trouble - endearing trouble, but trouble nonetheless, and John had never thought a prickly, arrogant, opinionated scientist would be what he wanted from a partner, no matter how blue his eyes, or how plump and perfect his ass.

John struggled with these strange, new, and almost completely overwhelming emotions for a moment, trying to get control of himself. This wasn't the time or place to think about this. He thought instead about the way Rodney had lied to him this afternoon. He liked Rodney, and he felt sorry for the man, but his lie earlier in the day had almost got a man killed - and not just any man - one of *John's* men. John felt his jaw tightening - he was usually a pretty laidback kind of guy, but that hid some very fierce instincts, and one of his cardinal rules was that nobody ever - *ever* - got left behind. Rodney's lie could have condemned Bates to death, and, regardless of the circumstances, for that alone Rodney deserved this punishment.

John lifted his hand and brought it down hard on Rodney's ass. He tried not to think about the enticing pink mark it made, or how Rodney settled down more firmly on his lap in acceptance of it, or the way his buttocks wobbled slightly from the swat. He just wrapped his arm around Rodney's waist and smacked down another stinging swat, and then another, keeping his hand hard and his pace lively, not allowing Rodney time to recover between the swats. He wanted something to break, wanted to feel some sense of catharsis from Rodney, and for that reason he had no intention of stopping at twenty. This would go on for as long as it needed to go on, and he'd know when that was by how Rodney responded.

The blistering pace continued, and John soon lost count. It was clear that Rodney hadn't though, as, a few seconds later, he gave a big sigh and tried to lever himself off John's lap. John held him back down and Rodney struggled, starting to panic.

"That was twenty!" he complained. "Elizabeth said twenty!"

"But *I* didn't," John told him. "I just told you that you'd have to take what I handed out - I didn't say how many. And we're going to keep going until I'm satisfied we've got somewhere."

"No! Fuck you!" Rodney tried to push himself off of John's lap but John was more than a match for him, and he wrapped his arm even more firmly around Rodney's body and started in again.

"A man could have died because of your lie, Rodney," John told him grimly, as he delivered hard, fast swats to the scientist's upturned ass.

Rodney just lay there, seeming almost stunned, and then he began to mutter angrily - and it was the first reaction that John had ever seen him give to being punished. John remembered how silently Rodney had taken his previous punishments, and how that had made them all the more soul-destroying to watch, and he realised that this was *good*. This was what he wanted from Rodney - a reaction, any reaction.

Rodney cursed and hollered for the next few minutes, before, finally, he seemed to realise that this wasn't going to stop, no matter how many names he called John. Then he went quiet again, and John almost thought he'd reached a state of acceptance, but then he glanced at Rodney's face and saw that it was screwed up, full of pent-up emotions, and it was those that John wanted to shake loose. So he just pulled Rodney closer, and swatted him again. This time he kept up a rhythm on one particular spot on Rodney's ass, knowing how painful that was, and how hard it would be for Rodney to handle it.

Rodney started to growl, a deep, angry sound in the back of his throat, and he kept on growling for several minutes, until John wasn't sure whether he was going to break or not. He hoped so, because there was now a very red spot on the scientist's ass that was starting to look pretty painful, but John knew that he'd go as far as was necessary, no matter how painful it got.

After what felt like an eternity, the growling changed into something more akin to a whimper. It was a soft sound, and so sad it almost stopped John in his tracks, but he knew that now was the time he had to continue, harder than ever, if he was ever going to get through to Rodney. He picked another spot on Rodney's ass and proceeded to smack his swats down there instead, and the whimpering became even more desperate.

When John looked back at the scientist's face he saw real tears streaming down his cheeks. Rodney had buried his face in his arms and was trying to hide his reaction but John saw it, and he knew he'd done what he'd set out to do.

He stopped spanking, and, deciding that protocol and regulations and everything else could go fuck themselves, he reached out and gently caressed Rodney's back. Rodney's breathing was coming in hitching gasps that John knew had far more to do with his emotions than the spanking he'd just received. Rodney's ass was glowing a deep crimson, concentrated in two particular spots, one on each buttock, but John thought that maybe, just maybe, this punishment had got though to him in a way the others had not.

He reached out and gently slid Rodney's boxers and pants up over his punished ass, but Rodney made no move to get off John's lap. Instead he just lay there, his body convulsing silently, and all the while John continued to stroke his back, gently reassuring him, the way he'd reassure a much cared for sub after a hard spanking.

This didn't feel formal - this felt personal, and intimate, and although John had planned it that way it still took him by surprise to realise just how much it was affecting him. He'd acted purely on instinct this evening, trying to reach out to Rodney in the best way he knew how, and he hoped he'd done the right thing. It felt like the right thing - it felt like he'd read Rodney correctly, and done what was best. John didn't say a word, and neither did Rodney. The scientist just lay there, wracked by silent, heart-rending sobs, and John just sat there, stroking and comforting him. Then, finally, after what felt like hours, Rodney's sobbing subsided, and he lay there quietly, still unmoving. John let him go at his own pace - this was about Rodney, not him, and he'd respond to whatever Rodney wanted.

Eventually Rodney slid, awkwardly, off John's lap, and stood up, shakily. John reached out a hand to steady him, and Rodney gave him a wan smile. His face was blotchy, his eyes a shade of bright aqua, and his wet eyelashes were startlingly dark, giving him an almost childlike quality.

"Thank you, Colonel," Rodney muttered softly. "I think...maybe, you know your art too well."

John shook his head, wryly. "I needed to see you respond," he said, just as softly. "You never have before. It had to make a difference or there was no point doing it."

"Yes. In retrospect I was an idiot," Rodney said, trying to do up his fly with shaking fingers. "I should have opted for the twenty with the cane. They would have been much easier to take. But then you were sneaky - and I made the mistake of not realising what, precisely, was on offer before agreeing to it."

"I'm sorry." John inclined his head. He watched as Rodney finally managed to do up his fly and then fumbled with his belt. "You took that well," John told him, needing to reach out to him, wanting that connection they'd shared to never end, because while nothing should have changed, everything - *everything* - was different between them now, and could never be the same again.

"You handed it out well," Rodney replied, with a sound that was halfway between a strangled laugh and a sob.

"Here." John couldn't stand watching him fumble with his belt any more, and he reached out and batted Rodney's hands away and did up his belt for him. Rodney stood there, dreamily, and one hand came up to rest on John's shoulder, perhaps to keep his balance, or perhaps just by instinct.

John finished with his belt and then looked up to find Rodney's blue eyes very close. There were a hundred things he wanted to say but somehow he couldn't find the words to say any of them, and Rodney said nothing - he just stared at him with those hazy, tear-stained blue eyes. John guessed that they both knew something extraordinary had happened here, and that while neither of them wanted it to end, neither of them knew how to continue it, either. Finally, Rodney cleared his throat.

"I understand now," he murmured, glancing at the empty chairs over John's shoulder.

"Understand what?"

"Why there was nobody here. You told them not to come."

"Well, I got Major Lorne to tell them, but yes." John inclined his head.

"Well, for that I thank you." Rodney inclined his head. "I'd rather die than know the gawping masses had witnessed what just happened."

"Nothing happened, Rodney. It was just one man needing to let something out - needing to let a great deal out," John told him. He wanted, with every single impulse in his body, to take hold of the scientist and draw him into a hug.

"No, don't sell yourself short, Colonel. You broke me, pure and simple," Rodney replied, in a soft kind of voice. "Now...now I'm not entirely sure what to do with myself."

"That's why I'm here. To talk - if you'll open up," John said. "I didn't do that for my own amusement. I want to be a friend to you, Rodney, and I can be, if you'll trust me."

Rodney stared at him for a long time, and then, finally, he wiped his sleeve across his face and turned away. "Thank you...but...I think I really need some time alone right now."

John disagreed. He thought some time alone was the last thing Rodney needed right now but he wasn't Rodney's top and he couldn't hold Rodney, and comfort him, and do all the things that every instinct in his body was screaming out to be allowed to do right now. He could only watch, helplessly, as Rodney gave him a strange, formal, little nod, that was so wrong after what they'd just shared, and then the scientist turned, and walked slowly out of the room.

John sat down, feeling as if he'd been felled at the knees, and he put his head down and tried to concentrate on breathing. He'd had no idea that would be so intense...had no idea that what should have been a routine enough punishment would unleash all these emotions - and he still had no idea what these emotions were. Something about Rodney was making him feel all kinds of things that he had no frame of reference for.

He knew he felt some things very deeply - he had a strong protective instinct for the men under his command, and he'd been very fond of the various subs he'd taken in his time, but he'd never felt like this before. This felt like being thrown head first over the side of an abyss, flying through the air in freefall, not knowing where you'd land. What was it about Rodney that evoked this reaction he wondered? What had been so special about spanking him that it had made him feel like this?

He went over and over the events of the past hour in his mind, trying to figure it out, but all it came down to was a sense of loss and total wrongness when Rodney had walked away from him. Something else niggled at John too - something about their conversation that he still didn't understand. Rodney had spoken about doing something expedient, something that would save his job, and John wondered what the hell he'd been referring to. He hadn't liked the bleak look in Rodney's eyes when he'd said that.

John got to his feet. He wasn't sure what he intended to do but he knew that he'd been wrong to allow Rodney to leave. John ran out into the hallway and along to the transporter. He stepped inside, and then hesitated.

Where would Rodney have gone? Elizabeth had put him on suspension but would that stop him from going to his lab? He had spoken about being tired - would he have gone back to his quarters? John thought about it for a moment and then acted on instinct. The lab. It had to be the lab. Rodney might be on a suspension but he'd make sure he had his laptop and anything else he needed if he was going to be sitting around twiddling his thumbs for the foreseeable future.

The hallway leading to the lab was in darkness, which wasn't a surprise as it was late, and this section of the city was only used during working hours. John thought that maybe he'd made a mistake, and Rodney had gone to his quarters after all, but then he saw that the door to the lab was half open - and a light was shining inside.

John strode up to the door and looked inside. Rodney must have only just arrived, because he was grabbing his laptop and various bits and pieces of equipment as John had predicted, moving slowly, taking care not to jolt his sore ass. He still had that dreamy look on his face, as if he wasn't quite there, his mind someplace else. John had seen subs look like that before, and he knew Rodney was floating away on endorphins right now, still in a post-spanking haze. What he needed was someone to take him by the arm, put him to bed, and watch over him, and John was happy enough to volunteer for that task. He was about to push open the door the rest of the way when the sound of a voice took him by surprise.

"I've been waiting for you."

Rodney froze, all the muscles in his back tensing, and John paused, one arm still outstretched, wondering who had spoken. He couldn't see anyone from where he was standing, but then he couldn't see the whole room through the half-open door. Rodney clearly hadn't been aware of anyone, either, but then he was pretty out of it right now so that wasn't surprising. John heard the scraping of a chair, and a man came into his field of vision.

Bates.

John took a deep breath and stayed where he was. What the hell was Bates doing here? And why had he been waiting for Rodney? Hicks had told him that the two of them had barely spoken a word to each other since the jello incident. Bates walked towards Rodney, and John saw that he was carrying a small, metallic box. John frowned - this just got more and more weird.

Rodney finally unfroze and turned, very, very slowly, and John saw a look of weary resignation in his eyes.

"Well played, Sergeant," Rodney said, nodding his head in a bitterly ironic way. "Looks like you won."

What the hell was *that* supposed to mean?

Bates gave a tight little smile and came to a halt right in front of Rodney, too close, invading his personal space. John tensed.

"Not yet," Bates said. "Not until I've got you crawling on your hands and knees, Rodney."
Rodney took a deep breath and backed up slowly until he reached the wall. Bates followed him, still invading his space. John wondered whether to go in there and break things up, but he was curious as to where this was going.

"I haven't decided about that yet," Rodney replied. "I...you need to give me more time."

Bates shook his head. "No more time. It has to be tonight."

"Why?" Rodney asked, and John frowned at the tone of complete despair in his voice. "Why does it have to be tonight?"

"Because." Bates put the box down on a table, and then leaned forward and put his hands on the wall on either side of Rodney's head, trapping the scientist there, effectively pinning him against the wall. John tensed again - this was starting to look ugly. "I was robbed," Bates hissed and John had to strain to hear what he was saying. "I was looking forward to seeing your fat ass being caned tonight and instead Colonel fucking Sheppard ordered us to keep away. Now, as you tried to get me killed today, I think I'm owed, and tonight is when I collect. I've got a cane waiting for you, Rodney, back at my quarters. I'll stripe your ass with dozens of juicy red welts and then I'll fuck it into kingdom come...come being the operative word. I've got a nice chastity belt for you as well - you won't be coming tonight, Rodney, or any time soon. From now on, you're mine, and you don't get to come unless I say so - and I'm going to damn well make sure you earn it."

John was transfixed by the emotions crossing Rodney's expressive face; revulsion, fear, despair.... John felt his hands clench into fists. Was this some kind of sex game, he wondered, fighting down a surge of anger? Was this what Rodney wanted? It sure as hell didn't look that way.

Rodney closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he seemed to have come to a decision. He jutted out his jaw in that obstinate way he had and John tensed, waiting for his reply.

"No," Rodney said firmly. "The answer's still no, Bates. The answer has always been no and will always be no. So do what the fuck you like to me, ruin my career and make my life a misery, but I'm not going to sub for you - not now, not ever."

John felt a wave of euphoria sweep through him. Thank god for Rodney's stubborn streak! It might make him infuriating to work with but it also made him a hard man to push around.

Bates shook his head, grinning. "You don't mean that. You just like playing hard to get." He stepped back and opened the box. "Here - I brought you this," he said, taking something from the box and holding it up. John craned his neck to see what it was - and then gave a low hiss of anger. "It's my training collar," Bates said, and he held it up so that the links of the chain collar clinked through his fingers. It wasn't just any kind of a training collar, either - it was a very specific kind indeed, and John wasn't surprised to see the colour drain from Rodney's face when he saw it.

The collar Bates was offering was a choke collar, like the kind you might put on a boisterous dog to keep it in check. There had been an unsuccessful campaign to make them illegal a few years' back and John didn't know any responsible top who'd use one. They were vicious - and in the wrong hands, tightened too far, they could kill.

"It's got my tag on it," Bates said, holding the collar right up in front of Rodney's eyes and flicking at the little silver tag with his finger. "It says 'Property of T. Bates'. You see, Rodney, I want everyone to know you're mine. I'll make you wear it day and night so everyone can see who you belong to."

Rodney made a little noise in the back of his throat, and John saw the look of total horror in the scientist's eyes. Now everything made sense - the punch, the lie about Bates having left the planet - John wondered how long this had been going on, and felt physically sick at the thought of it.

"Just bend your head, Rodney," Bates said. "Bend your head for me so I can slip my collar on you."

"No." Rodney shook his head. "I told you no. Fuck you, Bates."

Bates gave a twisted little grin. "No - you're the one who is going to be fucked, Rodney, fucked long and hard up that fat ass of yours until you scream. Now, bend your head and take my collar - then I'll go to Elizabeth tomorrow and tell her that now I've had time to think about it, I've realised it was all a misunderstanding, that you're a good boy after all, and deserve your job back."

John felt cold inside as he finally figured out how far this had gone; Bates had planned this, and it must have been going on for some time. How often had Bates sought out Rodney when the scientist was alone and intimidated him like this, John wondered? How often had Bates used Elizabeth - and John himself - to do his dirty work for him, demanding that they punish Rodney, using them to close this nasty little trap around the man? Rodney's attacks on Bates hadn't been the unprovoked lunacy of a man out of control - they'd been the reasonable enough response of a desperate man backed into a corner, unable to see a way out.

"Call me sentimental," Rodney murmured, "but I always thought that when someone offered me their collar it would be a romantic moment. I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of man but I guess I had some stupid fantasy that if I ever allowed a top to put a collar on me that it would be an act of love, not blackmail."

"Blackmail's an ugly word," Bates hissed. "I'm just claiming what's rightfully mine. Now bend your head. Do it!" He slammed his hand onto Rodney's shoulder, holding him in place at the same time as trying to sling the collar over Rodney's head.

It was the first time he'd actually touched Rodney, and John felt something break inside him. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing as he threw himself into the room, stormed across to where they were standing, and grabbed hold of Bates bodily from behind, pulling him away from Rodney. He threw Bates halfway across the room, and was briefly aware of the look of total shock on the sergeant's face as he landed, awkwardly, on one of the workstations, and then rolled over and got to his feet.

John didn't even let him draw breath - he was consumed with a kind of anger he'd never experienced before as he charged over to where Bates had fallen, grabbed him by the collar, and then felt a satisfying crunch as his fist connected with the sergeant's jaw. Once, twice, three times...

"When a sub says no," John growled, landing blow after blow on Bates's face, "he means no. It's not hard to get your head around."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Bates panted, managing to get his hands up to deflect the angry blows. "This is nothing to do with you, Colonel! It's private."

"Oh yeah? 'Cause it looked more like harassment and coercion from where I was standing," John growled, throwing Bates across the room again and watching him land with a satisfying thud on the floor.

"He's an unclaimed sub!" Bates protested, scrambling away on his hands and knees as John advanced on him again. "He's fair game. Nobody else wants him anyway. I was doing him a favour!"

"He said no!" John yelled, so angry that he could barely see straight. There was a red mist in front of his eyes, and all he wanted to do was grab Bates and pound his fist into his face, over and over again. He was aware that they were living out the cliché of hundreds of really bad movies, two tops going head to head over an un-collared sub, but nothing in his life had prepared him for the way he was feeling right now. He just knew that someone had *touched* Rodney - someone had tried to put their collar on Rodney, against Rodney's will, and that made him really, really angry.

"He doesn't know what he wants. He's falling apart. You've seen him - he's a total fucking mess! Look at him!" Bates spat, still crouching on the floor. John was aware of Rodney scuttling sideways, his face pale and his blue eyes wide with shock at what was happening. He picked up something from the floor and then darted forwards, cutting in front of John, making straight for Bates. John heard a clinking sound, and next thing he knew Rodney had thrown the collar over Bates's head and tightened it around his neck with one vicious pull on the loose end of the chain. Bates gave a strangled gasp and put his hands up to his neck, trying to free himself.

"Yeah, look at him," Rodney said, in a bitter tone, looking down on the sergeant with an expression of withering disgust. "How does it feel to be on the receiving end for a change, hmmm, Bates? Here, Colonel...he's one of your men - you deal with him," Rodney snapped, handing the end of the choke chain to John.

John took it, loosening it off a fraction, and Bates knelt there, gasping for breath, clawing at his throat. Rodney shot him one last look, and then he turned on his heel and left the room.

John wanted to run after him, but first he had to deal with Bates. The sergeant was a mess - his jaw was bruised, one of his eyes was closed, and there was blood dripping down one side of his face and onto his uniform. John reached out and gave him a casual backhander, still holding onto the chain, and Bates went swinging away. John pulled him back and Bates put up his hands to protect his face. John wanted to hit him again - but the man was defenceless and he knew he'd gone far enough.

"Fuck you," Bates was hissing. "You had no right to interfere, Colonel. It was a sex game...he was nearly mine...."

"No he wasn't - and if it was a game, only one of you was damn well playing," John growled. "Now get your ass up and along to the infirmary, *Corporal*. Yeah, you heard me. I'm busting your sorry ass down a rank. From now on you're on a punishment detail - I want to know where you are every single hour of every single day. Starting with right now."

He undid the choke chain from around Bates's neck and held it up. "And these? Are fucking dangerous - as you now know, first hand." He turned around and threw the collar hard against the wall. It smashed into the surface and then slid down to the floor, where it came to rest in a little crumpled heap. "Tell me, Bates, were you trying to get us tops a bad name with the subs on this base, hmm? Because if so, you've damn well succeeded."

John tapped on his radio and called for two of his men to escort Bates down to the infirmary.
"He is not, under any circumstances, to be left on his own," John told them when they showed up a couple of minutes later. "When Dr Beckett is done with him you can escort him back to his quarters and stand guard outside. He's to report to Major Lorne at 08:00 tomorrow morning and you will escort him there."

"You're making a big mistake, Colonel," Bates panted as he was marched out of the room. "I'm good at my job and you don't have many replacements to choose from out here!"

"Oh, somehow I think we'll manage," John snorted, and then he turned away in disgust.

He stood in the room, hands on hips, breathing heavily, trying to calm himself. He still felt angry. He felt as if he wanted to take his fist and bury it in living flesh, to hurt and lash out and destroy - and that was disturbing of and by itself. It wasn't like him - usually he was able to keep a tight lid on his emotions but there was something about this situation that was making that impossible for him right now.

He didn't know why he was reacting like this - he'd seen some abusive tops in his time, had even taken one or two aside and dealt with them in person, but none of them had affected him like this. If he closed his eyes he could still see Bates advancing on Rodney, *touching* Rodney, pinning him to the wall and trying to get his collar on him.

A wave of total revulsion twisted in his gut, taking John by surprise, and he leaned over and retched up his guts onto the floor of the lab. He felt as if he was being held in thrall by his own emotions, and they were eating him up, spiralling away from him. He'd never felt like this in his life before and he was so freaked out he didn't know what to do.

One part of him wanted to go after Rodney, to check he was okay, but the man wasn't his sub and he had no rights over him. Another, darker, part of him wanted to go after Bates, to hold him down and kill him with his bare hands, and that disturbed him so much that he started to tremble, honestly unsure that he could control himself.

Eventually he staggered towards the door, reaching for some gum in his pocket to take the taste of vomit from his mouth. He needed to see Rodney. It was like some kind of physical imperative, and he felt utterly helpless as he followed where his emotions led, which was a new experience for him. He knocked loudly on Rodney's door, and then waited. He heard a noise inside, but nobody answered the door.

"It's me, Rodney!" he yelled. "Sheppard." He banged on the door again, and this time it was opened, and Rodney stood there, gazing at him warily. "I just..." John suddenly didn't know what to say. His eyes raked over Rodney's body, flickering over his neck, where Bates had wanted to put his collar, and he fought down another wave of nausea. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay," John managed to finish. Rodney's blue eyes were unreadable.

"I'm fine. You were the one who did all the heroics," he muttered, in a bitter tone.

"Why didn't you tell someone?" John flashed back angrily. "Why the hell didn't you come to me, or Elizabeth - or hell, even Carson, and tell us what he was doing to you all this time?"

Rodney's eyes were sullen and...ashamed? "I'm the second in command on this base. I'm not...some...some stupid kid who's just woken up to the fact he's a sub and is having to figure out how to handle the unwanted attentions of some thick-skulled top. I'm...it was...." He shook his head. "I should have been able to handle it," he muttered.

"You shouldn't have had to," Sheppard sighed, remembering what Radek had said about Rodney being a proud man. He couldn't stop himself devouring Rodney with his eyes, wanting to touch him, to own him, to claim him. The adrenaline was still running high; he was a top who'd fought another top over a sub and won...and there was something old in his blood that wanted to reach out and take his prize to his bed, to mark him with bites, to kiss him and fuck him and possess him completely, so that nobody was in any doubt as to who he belonged to, and nobody would ever try and touch him again.

"If you wanted me to thank you then...thanks," Rodney muttered gracelessly.

"I don't want your damn thanks," John growled.

"Then why are you here?" Rodney's jaw jutted out in that familiar way and John longed to grab it and kiss that crooked mouth. He could see that wouldn't work though. Rodney had just fought off the attentions of one unwanted top this evening, and he didn't look as if he was in any mood to entertain the advances of another.

John's stomach contracted in need, but he was just about in control of himself enough to know that now was not the time to make any claims on Rodney. Instead he took a fierce mental grip on himself and nodded at the scientist.

"Like I said - I just wanted to see if you're okay."

"And like *I* said - I'm fine." Rodney nodded back, curtly.

"I'll speak to Elizabeth of course," John said, in a softer tone, unable to take his eyes off Rodney. "About the suspension. We need to talk about what happened. I'll arrange a meeting for tomorrow."

"I don't want anyone to know what happened," Rodney snapped.

"Well tough," John snapped back. "This has gone beyond what you want, Rodney. Elizabeth needs to know about this if she's to do her job properly."

"Great. Fine. Whatever. Can I go to bed now?"

John tried not to think about what Rodney would look like, lying naked in bed, a nice set of cuffs around his wrists.

"Sure. I'll see you tomorrow." It took every ounce of his strength to tear himself away from that door, and walk back down the hallway, away from Rodney.

Once he got to the end, he started to run, and he didn't stop until he had sprinted down to the south-west pier and was standing in a torrent of pouring rain, looking out over the black ocean. He stood there for a long time, breathing heavily, his dark hair inky-wet, but his emotions were as strong and urgent as ever.

Finally, he forced himself to run again, to run so fast and pound his body so hard that he could think about nothing else except the beating of his heart and the raw wind gusting into his face, blowing sheets of rain at him. He ran and ran, hoping to outdistance his own emotions and be swallowed whole by the dark, Atlantean night.
~*~

It was late by the time Carson Beckett finished up at the infirmary. Bates had needed a few stitches and required quite a bit of tidying up as well. Carson still wasn't entirely sure how the man had come by his injuries - he looked as if he'd been given something of a beating, but he'd remained tight-lipped about the cause of the wounds, and the guards with him hadn't given him much of a clue, either, although Carson gathered they were there by order of Colonel Sheppard so he guessed that the colonel knew what the hell was going on, even if he didn't.

Now it was late, and Carson was so tired that he almost trod on the wet bundle of a man sitting in his doorway.

"What the...?" he began, and then he bent down and took a closer look. "Christ, John, what the hell are you doing lying here like this?" he whispered. John Sheppard looked terrible - truly the worst Carson had ever seen him. He was wet through, his black tee shirt sticking to his skin, and his dark hair wind-tousled and slick with water, but that wasn't what struck Carson most. Instead, he was drawn to the expression in the colonel's usually friendly hazel eyes. Carson winced - he recognised that look, knew, instinctively, that this was a top in trouble, and suddenly he had no doubt at all that John's current condition was directly related to Bates's injuries.

"You'd better come inside, lad," he sighed, opening the door to his quarters. John got up, stretching out those long legs of his as he pulled himself upright, and then he followed Carson into the room, dripping water as he went.

Carson didn't say a word to the man. He just guided the colonel into a chair, slung him a towel, and then, while John was towelling down, Carson brewed some tea, filled it with sugar, added a dram of whisky, and handed it to the colonel. John took a sip and then made a face. Carson shrugged.

"Drink it," he advised. It wasn't a tone of voice that anyone had ever yet refused, and even John Sheppard, confident top though he was, just got on with it and swallowed the sweet tea down in gulps.

Carson found the colonel a fresh tee shirt and a pair of sweat pants and gave them to him, pointing in the direction of the bathroom. "First you get changed, then you come out here and we talk," he said firmly.

John took the garments without a word, like the most obedient of subs, and disappeared into the bathroom. Carson took off his white coat, and pulled on a fresh sweater of his own. He was tired, and it was late, but somehow he thought this might take awhile. He poured himself a measure of whisky and downed it in one gulp, and then he sat down on the side of the bed and waited.

The colonel reappeared a few minutes later, and hesitated in the doorway, holding his damp, crumpled clothes.

"Leave those in the bathroom," Carson instructed. "And get yourself over here, John."
John did as he was told and sat down on the chair by the bed. The sweatpants were too short for his long legs and his ankles poked out of the bottoms, incongruously.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to inconvenience you." His body was shaking ever so slightly, and Carson frowned and took a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"No apologies required. I'm your doctor and your friend - so it isn't an inconvenience," he said firmly. "What happened tonight, John?"

John looked up, and there was a burning expression in his eyes that Carson had never seen before. Usually the colonel was so laidback, rarely looking as if he cared about anything very deeply, but he certainly seemed to care about something right now.

"I can't control it," John said, still shivering. "I feel like...I came here because I was worried about what I'd do, Carson."

"About what you'd do...? Ah." Carson nodded. "I presume this has something to do with Bates? I've just finished with him and someone gave him a nasty beating; judging by the condition of your knuckles, that someone would be you." He glanced at the knuckles on John's right hand, which were red raw and bleeding in places. "If you're worried that you might be tempted to go back and finish the job then I think you can rest easy on that score. You posted a couple of guards on him remember?"

John nodded, his eyes hazy.

"What did he do?" Carson asked.

"Tried to force his collar on Rodney, to make him sub for him." John's hands clenched into tight fists, and Carson winced at the look in his eyes. "It's been going on for weeks, Carson - the coercion, harassment, physical intimidation - been going on right under our noses, and we didn't see it."

Carson got up, his jaw tightening. "That bloody bastard. If you hadn't already taken care of it I'd go and sort the bugger out myself," he muttered. "Is Rodney okay?" He wanted to go to his friend, to check for himself that Rodney was all right, but John's need seemed more pressing right now so he forced himself to stay.

"He's fine. He's his usually prickly self in fact." John gave a wry ghost of a grin. "But I'm not fine, Carson. I've been an idiot."

"I'm sure you have," Carson said wryly. "About what in particular?"

"About everything I think." John shook his head. "I didn't see what Bates was doing. I...punished Rodney tonight for lying to me, for leaving Bates behind when we were offworld, but I can't honestly say I blame him now that I know what was going on. What he did was wrong, of course, and I can't ever condone leaving a man behind like that, but...all the same, I can see why he did it."

"Rodney's a big boy, John," Carson told him firmly. "If the punishment was unjustified he could have argued his case but he gave you nothing."

"He was ashamed." John fastened his fingers around his cup and stared into the dregs.

"Is it guilt you're feeling? Is that why you're here?" Carson asked, hoping that wasn't the case. If John wanted some kind of punishment to relieve his emotions then he'd do it - he'd done it for other tops before - but it wasn't something he enjoyed.

"No." John shook his head. "I can't keep the feelings under control, Carson. I...I've never felt like this before and it's driving me insane. When I saw him just now...oh christ, I want him, Carson. I want him so much it *hurts*."

Carson rocked back on his heels and gazed at the colonel. He wasn't surprised by this news, but he was surprised by how John was handling it.

"It's all I can think about. Touching him, claiming him, kissing him...I feel like if I can't have him it'll kill me. When Bates tried to put his collar on him...."

John got up, and slammed his fist against the wall. Carson winced - John's knuckles were already torn so that had to hurt.

"If anyone touches him I don't know what I'll do. How can I work with him?" John asked in despair. "If we're out in the field and he gets hurt, or if someone threatens him...how will I be able to control myself?"

"You'll learn," Carson said, in a hard tone. "You'll learn because you have to. Now come here and sit down."

He got out the emergency medical kit he kept in his nightstand and beckoned the colonel over. There was no use soft-soaping the man, and sending him on his way with platitudes. John had a real problem, and it was one that Carson had encountered before, so he wasn't going to make light of it. Some tops, usually those at the more dominant end of the spectrum, *did* find it hard dealing with the strength of their emotions towards their subs. He was just surprised that John, of all people, felt this way, and the man would need real, hard-headed support, if he was going to handle it.

John did as he was told, and Carson took hold of his hand and examined the knuckles.

"Well I don't think anything's broken," he said, wiping some gel over John's hand and reaching for a bandage.

"Have you ever felt like this?" John asked. "Christ, what's going on. Why can't I...?" He pulled his hand away, got up again, and started pacing impatiently around the room like a caged panther.

"Sit down, Colonel. Now," Carson ordered, in as hard a tone as he possessed. John gave a low growl, but did as he was told, and Carson finished bandaging up his hand. "I know it hurts - oh, not your knuckles - how you're feeling - but you've got no choice but to learn to live with it, John, because it won't be going anywhere," Carson told him firmly.

"You don't know what it damn well feels like!"

"No, I don't. That's not to say I've never had moments of romantic despair," Carson grinned, "But no. I've never experienced what you're going through, but I do know you can control it."

"How?" John asked bleakly. "Damn it, Carson, what's happening to me? Why do I feel like this?"

Carson gazed at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. John glared at him.

"I'm sorry, laddie," Carson sighed, shaking his head. "I didn't realise. You don't know, do you, John?"

"Know what?" John gazed at him blankly.

"You're in love, John. That's what you're feeling. You told me that you'd never been in love before – well, this is how it feels for you."

"I'm in love? With Rodney?" John looked so surprised that Carson had to bite on his lip to stop himself laughing again.

"Yes, John. With Rodney," he grinned. "I know he's not someone you'd probably actually *choose*, but it seems as if your heart's ignoring your brain on this because you are head over heels in love with him. I suspect you have been for some time but just didn't want to face up to it until events forced you to sit up, and take notice. And to be honest, I think your brain's got it wrong because you and Rodney would make a good couple. You're calm - well, usually anyway - and he's excitable. He's smart - but you're smart enough to keep up with him, which god knows he needs. You're laidback enough not to crush all the spirit out of him, and he's interesting enough to keep you always entertained."

"He's also arrogant, argumentative, and sarcastic," John pointed out.

"Aye, and loyal, brave, and funny," Carson replied. John sighed and buried his head in his hands.

"Did you think it was just a sex thing?" Carson asked. "That all you had to do was fuck him and then you'd feel all right again?"

"I don't know. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I just knew I had all these...goddamn *feelings* and they wouldn't go away. You sure there's nothing you can give me for this, Doc?" He gave Carson a hopeless kind of smile.

"I'm afraid I can think of only one cure, laddie," Carson grinned, patting his arm affectionately.

John shook his head and groaned. "He'll barely speak to me," he sighed. "I just broke him with a punishment I'm sure he feels he didn't deserve, he's just been relentlessly pursued by an abusive top who wouldn't take no for an answer, and he's told me point blank he likes being single and he doesn't want, and I quote, 'some stupid dominant marching around giving me orders'. What the hell chance do I have of changing his mind?"

"Well...I know you've not had much experience in this field, but speaking as one not as naturally gifted in the looks department, or as effortlessly charismatic as yourself, I can tell you that romancing a sub is an art form of and by itself, and one I'd be happy to give you some pointers in," Carson said.

"Romancing?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Aye," Carson grinned. "I know, it's a whole new world for you, laddie. They usually fall at your feet in droves, but this particular sub will be worth the effort, I'm sure."

"How do you know that?" John asked.

"Because you love him." Carson shrugged. "It's as simple as that."

"Supposing I'm crap at this romancing thing?" John asked, and Carson smiled to himself because he'd never have thought that John Sheppard of all people would lack confidence in affairs of the heart.

"Supposing he turns me down, Carson? Supposing I can never have him?" His voice broke a little as he said that.

"Then you'll have to live with that," Carson shrugged. "The days are long gone when a top could just claim an un-collared sub and take them by force."

"I'd never force anyone!" John said, in an angry tone.

"Calm down, laddie. I know that." Carson patted John's arm again. "But as for Rodney turning you down - why would he? You're a good-looking man and most of the subs on this base would offer themselves to you given half the chance. You just have to work at it. You've already won his trust, John - I've seen the way he looks at you, and he might fight it but he has learned to trust you. Now you have to court him."

"Court him? Who says that any more, Carson?" John grinned, shaking his head.

"Well, I'm Scottish, and my mam often talked of courting my dad. I like it," Carson replied, smiling. John's grin faded, and he looked thoughtful.

"Okay. I'll court him, for want of a better word, Carson. I'll do anything it takes. I want him - not just for a quick fuck but for good. I've never put a collar on anyone, never shared a plate, or done any of those things. I've never *wanted* to - but...I want to with Rodney." John shook his head, looking somewhat amazed by this revelation. Carson smiled.

"Aye, well, love can take the best of us by surprise, lad," he said, feeling a little pang, and suddenly envying his friend his new found love. Was there anyone out there for *him* he wondered? He'd taken subs before, many of them, had even fallen in love with some of them, and had his heart broken by a couple of them, but he'd never found the right person. Someone to settle down and grow old with. Someone to put his collar on and share a plate with. He'd always hoped he'd get married one day but he was getting older and there was no sign of anyone on the horizon. He wasn't looking for the perfect sub - just the perfect sub for *him*. He sighed.

"You know, John, you have no idea how lucky you are," he said. "You might be hurting right now but you can make this come right."

"You won't tell Rodney?" There was a note of anxiety in John's voice.

"No. I won't tell anyone. Now...it's getting late and I think we both need some sleep. Do you trust yourself to go back to your room and get some rest?"

John took a deep breath, and then nodded.

"Any problems, just call me." Carson gestured to his headset which was lying on the nightstand.

John got up. "I will. And...thanks, Carson," he said awkwardly. Carson just shook his head and pulled the colonel into a brief hug before releasing him and booting him out of the door.
~*~

John returned to his quarters feeling much happier than he had before he'd gone to see Carson. So, he was in love. At least that made sense of all the wild emotions he seemed to be experiencing, and at least he had a chance of doing something about it.

He thought of Rodney, wondering what it would be like to claim the scientist for his own, to quell those restless hands by placing them in cuffs, and to silence those endlessly talking lips with a long, deep kiss. John had topped many subs in his time, but he'd never claimed one for his own, or demanded any kind of submission outside the duration of a sex game. He'd never wanted to, never been remotely interested in assuming all the responsibilities and pleasures that came from putting a collar on another human being.

He thought he was a good top - he knew tricks that made his subs sigh with pleasure and kiss his feet in gratitude, but he'd always kind of played at it before. This was different. This felt serious. This went way beyond sex and into new territory completely, and he didn't want to screw it up.

He wanted Rodney but he wanted his heart and soul as well as his body. He wanted to see those blue eyes gaze up at him with trust, love, and affection, and he knew this was too important to fuck up by moving too fast, or demanding too much, too soon. Rodney was special. He wasn't the easy lay John was used to. He'd need time, need to be gentled like a spirited colt, need to be loved into submission. That's where Bates had got it all so very wrong. Rodney couldn't be harried or coerced - he had to be won, like the prize he was, and John was determined that he'd do it, however long it took.

One day he'd take Rodney McKay to his bed and make him his, and if it was the hardest thing he ever did he didn't care because it was also the most important thing he'd ever do, and he'd damn well do it right.

John went over to his closet and took out a small box. He'd carried it on all his postings but hadn't looked at it in years. His fathers had given it to him on his twenty-first birthday, just a few weeks before they'd died. John thought of Rodney, losing both his parents at an even younger age, and he wondered if that accounted for some of his attraction to the brilliant if wayward scientist. It was something they had in common, and although John suspected they came from very different families, it gave them a kind of connection.

John opened up the box and looked at the collar lying inside on a bed of silk. It wasn't a wedding collar - you would only ever fashion a wedding collar for your sub's specific measurements and to your own personal tastes - but it was a commitment collar. Some people might call it a training collar but John had never liked that term. If he ever put a collar on a sub it wouldn't be to train them – it would be to show them they were loved, and to show the world who they belonged to, making it clear to other tops that this particular sub was most definitely not unclaimed.

The collar was a thick strip of white gold, sturdy enough to take a leash if you wanted to attach one, but slim enough to lie easily against the neck. Commitment collars took many forms, but this one was a very fine piece of jewellery.

John slid his fingers over the collar, caressing it. He'd never taken much interest in it before, perhaps because he'd never been remotely interested in collaring a sub before. Putting a collar on a sub was a huge deal and it wasn't anything John had ever fantasised about. In his view it was mainly subs that made a big issue out of being collared, and he could point to a plethora of movies on the subject to prove his point, but now, for the first time in his life, he suddenly wondered what it would be like to place his collar around a sub's neck and have the right to claim that sub as his own.

He had a mental image of Rodney, kneeling in front of him, blue eyes gazing sweetly up at him, and he shivered, surprised by the raw force of his own sexual response to that image.

He knew that one of his own fathers - his biological father, Adam - had worn this collar, briefly, before accepting his other father's wedding collar. John hadn't thought about his parents for a long time, not because he hadn't loved them but because their loss still hurt in some place deep inside. He thought he'd walled off that part of his heart until tonight, outside in the dark and the rain, when he'd come to understand that there were some emotions you could never outdistance, no matter how fast or how far you ran.

He remembered Adam - tall and dark haired, with an impish grin that charmed everyone except his other father, Gil, who would see through it, shake his head, pull Adam close, and scold him while laughing affectionately the whole time. Gil had been broad and blond, muscular and stocky.

The Sheppards were an old, military family, and they did things the time-honoured way, opting for only the most traditional of marriages and living their lives by the vows they made to each other. They had met in the military when Adam had been a raw recruit, eighteen years old and full of potential, and Gil was his lieutenant, four years' older, with an outer toughness that hid a kind heart because he was the gentlest man John had ever known. It had been a love match that never wavered in the thirty years they were together, right up until their deaths.

The mission they'd been on was classified, and to this day John had never uncovered the full details, but he did know that Adam's unit had gone missing behind enemy lines, and Gil had gone back for him. The Sheppards never left anyone behind - it was the golden rule that John had been brought up with. Gil had been injured in the rescue attempt and Adam had carried him home, desperately trying to keep him alive through the lifebond they shared. Gil had fought to live, but he had massive internal injuries and he'd died in Adam's arms in the hospital.

Nobody knew precisely how the lifebond worked, whether it was the shock of its loss that killed the surviving partner, or whether the bond was so strong they had no choice but to follow their bonded mate into death, but Adam had died just moments later, lying on Gil's hospital bed, their bodies entwined. They had been buried together at Arlington.

John fingered the collar thoughtfully. The pain of his loss still hurt, even after a lifetime of suppressing it, and John realised now why he never looked at this collar. He hadn't understood how love could be so strong that a person could die of its loss. Secretly, John had always wondered whether it was essentially selfish to lifebond with another - especially when you had a child. True, he'd been technically an adult when his parents had died, but he had still felt that his heart had been ripped out of his body, leaving him raw with pain.

John had always distrusted love after that, fighting shy of any emotion that could leave such devastation in his wake. He'd joined the Airforce, because he couldn't imagine doing anything else, but he tried not to think about the men who had loved and raised him, and had avoided loving anyone else since their deaths, wanting to spare himself the pain that came with losing people you care about so much.

Only love had found him anyway, and he was discovering that it hurt every bit as much as he'd always feared - but also that it brought with it an intoxication all of its own.

John replaced the collar gently in its box, and, instead of putting it back in the closet, he placed it on his nightstand, where he could see it. It was time, he thought. Past time, maybe. In his mind's eye he could see both his fathers playing with him in the park. He could see Gil throwing him into the air and catching him safely in his strong hands, and remembered how Adam's dark hair would flop into his eyes as he bent to scoop a giggling John into his arms. John thought about the way that Gil would always wrap his arm around Adam's waist and slide his hand down the back of his jeans and just rest it there, laying claim to him, and making sure the world knew who he belonged to, and his heart suddenly ached. Damnit, he *missed* them. But that was only one part of the ache - the other part, both more urgent and more painful, was the knowledge that he wanted that kind of love for himself.

John took off the clothes he'd borrowed from Carson and slid into bed, feeling surprisingly calm and relaxed. Now he *knew* what was going on for him he could stop fighting it and just think about how good it would feel to curl his fingers in Rodney's soft hair, to press his lips against Rodney's crooked mouth, and to sink his cock into Rodney's beautiful round ass. He remembered that ass lying over his lap just a few short hours ago, how he'd wanted to stroke and caress it, and how right Rodney had felt bent over his knee, submissive and accepting, and he went to sleep with a smile curving on his lips.

He was woken, several hours later, by an urgent knocking on the door and he got up and staggered, bleary-eyed, to open it. Carson was standing there, a worried look in his blue eyes.

"Is Rodney in here?" he asked, glancing over John's shoulder at the empty bed behind him.

"I'm afraid not." John frowned. "Why? Has something happened to him?"

"I don't know. I went to his room as soon as I thought he'd be up - he keeps some very strange hours - but there was nobody there. I went to the lab, the mess hall...kept trying on his radio but there's no reply. After what you told me about what happened last night...I'm a wee bit worried about him." Carson's forehead was wrinkled up in concern, and John felt his stomach do a little flip. If anything had happened to Rodney....

He turned and grabbed his own radio from the nightstand to check first of all that Bates was accounted for, but he was told that the corporal hadn't left his room all night.

"Where can he be?" Carson fretted, pacing the room frantically while John pulled on his BDUs.

"I don't know." John shook his head furiously.

"I should have checked on him last night. I was going to but you said he was okay...."

"I thought he was!" John growled. "I went to see him and he bit my head off as usual. No change there."

"We should have thought though," Carson sighed.

"I know." John was kicking himself over and over again. He knew what a proud man Rodney was, and first he'd broken down his barriers with that punishment, forcing him to give in and cry which must have been the last thing he wanted to do, and then he'd witnessed that grotesque scene with Bates and that obscene training collar.... It would hardly be surprising if Rodney had felt unable to cope with the evening's events but...where would he go?

John finished dressing and then ran down the hallway towards Rodney's quarters, with Carson hard on his heels. He easily opened the door with a mental flick and charged inside...and then stopped. Rodney wasn't a very tidy person, and his room was strewn with laptops and page upon page of notes. There was a Rodney-sized dent on the middle of the clearly un-slept in bed, and dozens of sheets of paper lying on the floor. John frowned and picked up the notes from the floor.

"Looks like he was lying here, hanging over the end of the bed, working on these," John said.

"Aye, and no doubt into the early hours if I know Rodney," Carson said, peering over John's shoulders to read the notes.

"These are the transcripts he took off that temple," John said slowly.

"When Rodney is really in a bad way he has a tendency to throw himself into his work and try and block everything else out," Carson said, glancing around the room, looking for more clues. "Perhaps we should get Radek to decipher the notes?" he suggested to John.

John shook his head. It wasn't easy following Rodney's scrawl, but he wasn't stupid, and he got the gist of what was in them.

"Oh shit," he said, stuffing the notes in his pocket and running for the door.

"What is it? What did you find?" Carson said, running after him.

"Rodney thinks he's found the location of a ZPM," John said, as he ran for the gateroom.

"But...are you saying...surely...he wouldn't have gone there...alone?" Carson puffed. "Why would he do that?"

"Because everything fell apart for him last night, and this...this was his way of trying to piece some of himself back together again," John said grimly.

They got to the gateroom and John ran up the stairs two at a time to find the nightwatch gate technicians sitting at their post.

"Have you seen Dr McKay?" he demanded.

They looked at each other, and then back at him. "Yes, sir. He went through the gate," one of them offered, stammering slightly in the face of John's brusque and agitated manner.

"When?" John demanded.

"About four hours ago, sir," the other one said.

"And you didn't think that was odd?" John growled. "That he'd go through the gate in the middle of the night?"

"Well, it was Dr McKay," the first one muttered. "And everyone knows he does weird shit."

"He had security clearance," the second one added. "It's not up to us to tell a senior member of this expedition that he can't go through the gate."

"And we have protocols," John fumed. "Lady Elizabeth approves all offworld trips."

"Dr McKay was very insistent," the first one said, looking panicked.

"Plus...he kind of yelled at us," said the second. "And you know how he can be when he does that."

John sighed. Yeah, he knew just how Dr Rodney McKay in full sarcasm mode must have come over to these two.

"Have you heard from him since then?" Carson asked, coming up behind John and putting a hand on John's shoulder, calming him. The technicians looked at each other blankly.

"He called to say he was through okay," one of them said.

"And you've heard nothing since?" It was all John could do not to grab them both by their shirts and bang their heads together. He liked working with scientists but god knows he sometimes wondered how they got by with so little common sense.

"Um...no," they replied, looking a little sheepish.

"Dial up his destination. We're going through," John said, turning.

"Aye, that we are," Carson said. "And let Elizabeth know what's happening, lads - okay?"

"And if we don't call in every hour, on the hour, then for god's sakes get Lorne to send a unit of marines after us!" John snapped, running for the gate.

"Just a second, Colonel. I'm not going offworld without a medical kit," Carson said, trotting down the steps towards the storage hatch where they kept emergency offworld provisions. John growled, hating any delay, but Carson was right, and he waited, impatiently, by the gate, as Carson grabbed a kit and checked the contents.

John tried to keep a tight clamp on his emotions, recognising that if he wasn't careful they could spiral out of control, as they had the previous evening, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to focus. He'd be no good to Rodney if he was all over the place, and, as Carson had so rightly pointed out, he had to learn how to live with all these new feelings, had to master them and make them work for him, or he'd end up being a total mess. Finally, Carson was ready, and he took his place by John's side, a grim but determined look on his face. John remembered how little Carson liked going through the wormhole, and he knew that only the thought of Rodney being in danger was spurring the doctor on right now.

They ran through the gate, and John immediately tapped his radio. "Rodney?" he yelled. It was night on the planet, and the trees were swaying in a high wind, making the whole place seem eerie. The radio crackled but there was no reply.

"Sounds like..." Carson hesitated, frowning, concentrating on the sound.

"Sounds like someone tried to reply but the signal's not getting through, yes," John agreed.
"Rodney?" He tried again, to be greeted by another burst of static that might, just, have been the sound of someone's voice. John pulled out his lifesigns detector but all he could see were a series of blurry dots that merged into one another.

"Electrical storm!" Carson yelled over the sound of the wind and rain.

"Yeah. Then we're going to have to do this the hard way," John yelled back, pulling out the sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket. There wasn't much to go on, and John guessed that Rodney had taken the most relevant papers with him, but he was at least confident of the general direction to head in. They half-walked, half-ran through the storm, with John pausing to tap his radio every few strides. After a couple of miles of this, John paused, picking up a faint response in his ear.

"Rodney?"

Static. And then, faintly. "...ruins we...east...shit...ow, ow...."

"Rodney?!" John roared over the sound of the wind in the trees.

"That was definitely him," Carson said. "Sounds like his radio isn't working properly."

"Or something's interfering with the signal - maybe the closer we are to him the better we'll be able to hear him," John replied. "It sounded like he was telling us to go east of the ruined temple."

"Could be - it's all we've got to go on," Carson shrugged. They turned and headed east, with John keeping the radio channel open the entire time. The signal grew stronger as they jogged.

"Rodney? Come on, buddy, keep talking," John yelled, fighting to be heard over the driving wind. He didn't damn well fall in love with someone just to lose him before he'd even had a chance to kiss him! That was not damn well going to happen!

"...Colonel...found...then...stupid...fell...dark...stupid...."

"Do you have a gun?" John shouted into the radio, hoping that Rodney could hear him better than he could hear Rodney. "If so, fire it up into the air, away from you."

They paused, and a few seconds later they heard a faint sound in the distance. John broke into a run, heading towards the sound, his heart pounding in his chest. He jumped over fallen tree trunks, and ducked under branches, running as fast as he could, panicked by the thought of Rodney lying injured somewhere. He paused for a moment, and called into the radio again, but this time when he heard the reply it wasn't via the radio - he could hear Rodney's voice, somewhere nearby, shouting for help. Carson caught up with him a few seconds later and they scoured the area by flashlight.

"Over here." The voice sounded surprisingly close, and John turned and the beam of his flashlight fell on a bedraggled figure lying at the bottom of a small ravine. John's heart did a surprisingly exuberant somersault in his chest, and he scrambled towards the scientist. He was half-running, half-sliding down the side of the ravine, getting caked in mud and leaves as he went, leaving Carson trailing far behind in his eagerness to get to Rodney.

John reached the bottom of the ravine and then ran over to where Rodney was lying beneath a tree, clutching his ankle. There was a dark smudge of dirt down one side of his face and a deep wound that was oozing copious amounts of blood on his forehead.

John skidded to a halt beside him, suddenly realising that despite the fact that every nerve-ending in his body was screaming out to grab Rodney in his arms and kiss him, the scientist had no idea how he felt and would probably be extremely alarmed if he did any such thing. So John went for the next best thing instead.

"Damnit what is it with you?" he scolded. "Do you go looking for trouble or what?"

"I wasn't looking for trouble, no," Rodney replied, in a weary but happy tone. "I was looking for a ZPM and...guess what?" He gave a triumphant smile and pulled something out of his backpack. "Da-nah!"

"You found it? You found a ZPM?" John reached out and tousled Rodney's hair affectionately, trying hard not to think about how much he wanted to kiss him right now.

"That's right. I was reading through my notes, you see, and then it suddenly just hit me where the ZPM had to be, and I had to come here and find it. I would have been fine as well if one of those stupid bat creatures hadn't flown straight at me, making me fall down this ravine. My radio was semi-busted in the process and...ow!" Rodney let out a howl as Carson reached them, and began examining his obviously hurt ankle.

"That's a bad sprain you've got there, laddie, but I don't think anything's broken," Carson said.
"Although I'll certainly be happy to break that thick skull of yours when we get you home. What were you thinking, Rodney, taking off like that?" He moved up to examine Rodney's head wound.

"I was thinking I'd bring back a ZPM," Rodney scowled. "Which we need to, you know, get the city's shield working and protect us from the scary, life-sucking, monster people."

"What, you couldn't wait until morning and then get the team to come out looking for it?" Carson asked, frowning as he pressed a dressing onto Rodney's forehead.

Rodney shrugged, and gazed mutinously at the floor. "Suspended remember? I didn't know if I was on the team any more, and I didn't trust anyone else to bring this back," he muttered, gesturing with his head at the ZPM.

John leaned forward. "You're still on the team, Rodney," he said, directly into Rodney's ear. "But if you're going to *stay* on the team then we really need to work on a few basic rules. One of which is that you don't go anywhere without me."

He felt a little tug inside as he said that. If he could just damn well put a collar and leash on this man then he'd make sure he didn't go anywhere without him ever again.

"Hah." Rodney just made a face at him. John put a hand on his arm and Rodney went curiously still.

"I mean it, Rodney. Don't mess with me on this," he warned. Rodney gazed at him, a suddenly panicked look in his eyes, and John knew that they were both thinking about that punishment he'd handed out the previous evening. Then John smiled. "I'm glad you're safe, Rodney," he said softly, reaching out to brush some of the mud off Rodney's cheek with a gentle stroke of his thumb. "Now...let's get you home shall we?"

He glanced at Carson, who had finished with Rodney's forehead and was now busy bandaging up his sprained ankle.

"Is he okay to travel?" John asked.

"Well, we'll never get a puddle jumper through these trees, and a gurney will take too long - he's already in shock and I want to examine that head wound properly - it looks nasty," Carson replied. "So I think helping him back to the gate between us would be the lesser of two evils."

"Okay then." John looked at Rodney, who seemed paler than ever now that Carson had enunciated his injuries so succinctly. "Rodney - stay with us," he ordered. Rodney blinked and nodded, and John squeezed his arm gently, trying to reassure him.

He put an arm around Rodney's body and pulled him to his feet, and then slung one of Rodney's arms over his shoulder. Rodney was unable to put much weight on his ankle, and, despite the makeshift compress Carson had placed on his head wound, blood was soaking through the bandage and he was clearly concussed, his pale face shining with sweat. He wasn't going to be up to doing much by way of walking so they'd have to support his weight between them.

John fastened his arm more tightly around Rodney's body, securing him, while Carson took up position on the other side. This was going to be a long, slow journey, and John felt guilty for liking the feel of Rodney's warm body against his own, and the way he smelled, nestled so close.

John felt another of those strange, protective urges sweeping through his body, starting in his gut and spreading out to flood him with warmth. God, he wanted this man so much. He'd throw himself in front of any danger to keep him safe, battle any kinds of monsters this godforsaken galaxy threw at him just to be by his side. Earlier, when he thought they'd lost him... John pushed that thought away and ghosted a gentle caress along Rodney's hand with his thumb. I want you, a voice inside him said. I want you...I want you...I want you.... It repeated over and over again in his head, like a mantra, all the way back to the gate.

Elizabeth was waiting for them with a hundred questions when they stepped through the gate, and pandemonium broke out as Carson insisted, furiously, on taking Rodney to the infirmary while Rodney insisted, equally furiously, on installing the new ZPM immediately.

"Radek can do that," John pointed out.

"It's *my* ZPM!" Rodney snapped, holding it close to his chest like a baby. "I get to do it!" He jutted out his jaw obstinately, and John was about to tell him not to be an idiot when he saw a look in Rodney's eyes that stopped him. This was about Rodney's pride, and John felt he'd dented that enough in the past 24 hours - what would a small delay matter, if it gave Rodney back some of what he'd lost?

"We're taking him downstairs," he said to Carson, ignoring the doctor's immediate protest. Rodney gave him a surprised, grateful smile, and they shared a tiny moment, then John hauled Rodney's arm over his shoulder again, and they began walking.

Carson ran in front of them and planted himself in their way. "What the hell do you think you're playing at, Colonel!" he protested. "Rodney has a serious head injury!"

"And we've just walked him for three miles through a fucking great storm!" John snapped. "Another five minutes won't make much difference."

"Oh, so you're the doctor now are you, laddie?" Carson fumed.

"Please. Carson." John looked at him beseechingly. "Come with us, keep close and whisk him off to the infirmary the minute he's done, but please let him do this."

Carson considered it for a moment, his eyes raking anxiously over Rodney's wounded head. John bit on his lip - the last thing he wanted to do was endanger Rodney's life, but he felt they'd all been ignoring Rodney's needs for long enough, and this was important, damnit!

"All right," Carson said at last. "But I'm hauling him to the infirmary if his condition deteriorates, no matter what."

"Deal," John said, giving him a grateful nod.

Elizabeth trailed on behind them, demanding to know what the hell was going on, but John didn't say a word as he helped Rodney down to the power generator and propped him up on a chair beside it. It only took a couple of minutes for Rodney to install the ZPM, and then he leaned back, gave John a triumphant smile, pressed a button and...nothing happened.

"Oh fuck," Rodney sighed.

"Rodney?" John looked at the ZPM and then back at the scientist. Rodney looked as if he'd shrunk, as if he'd kind of crumpled, all the triumphant happiness of earlier ebbing visibly from his body, leaving him sagging in its wake.

"No power." Rodney gave a bitter little laugh. "All out of juice. Probably has been for millennia. Christ, I've been a total idiot."

"You couldn't have known, laddie," Carson said sympathetically. Rodney's blue eyes looked completely devastated and John felt the blow with him. There was silence for a moment, as they all took in the news, and then Rodney's eyes rolled back in his head and he swayed in his chair. John ran forward and caught him just before he fell. He held Rodney tight and lowered him to the floor while Carson called into his radio for a gurney.

"John, what the hell is going on?" Elizabeth demanded as they waited for the medical team. "Why were you all offworld without my permission? How did Rodney get injured? And why have I had *Corporal* Bates in my office complaining that you busted him down a rank because of some fight the two of you had over a sub?"

John barely heard her as he cradled Rodney's head in his hands. The scientist was out cold, and under the bright Atlantean lights John saw that his head wound was much nastier than he'd realised. He felt his gut clench and he wanted to be physically sick. Carson was there, making reassuring noises, but there was little he could do until they got Rodney to the infirmary.

"John?" Elizabeth pulled him away as the medical team arrived and bustled around Rodney. "I want you in my office, now. I want an explanation and it'd better damn well be a good one! Carson - I want a full medical report on Rodney as soon as you've treated him," she said, before turning on her heel and leaving, every line of her body screaming her fury.

John gazed after her, and then gazed at Rodney, helplessly, as he was transported in the opposite direction. Carson patted his arm.

"Go tell her what's been happening, John," he said. "You can't help Rodney right now and I'll need space to work on him - I hate it when people's partners get underfoot when I'm trying to do my job."

"He's not my partner," John sighed, gazing longingly after the gurney.

"Not yet." Carson grinned and patted his arm again. "He's in good hands. Now go," he ordered, before running after his medical team.

Elizabeth gazed at him with furious eyes as John followed her into her office and shut the door behind him. He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he said first, in an attempt to diffuse her anger. "I know this all looks completely crazy and I apologise for not keeping you in the loop but I had no idea that things would escalate like this."

"Explain." She sat down at her desk and looked at him expectantly. "Why is Rodney injured? What happened to him? And how the hell does Bates fit into all this?"

John felt his jaw tighten at Bates's name. "Bates was a catalyst," he said, trying to keep a check on his temper.

"He says you gave him a thrashing yesterday evening - and I have to say he didn't exactly look pretty. Did you do that to him, John? I can't condone that kind of behaviour on this expedition!" Her eyes flashed angrily.

"With all due respect, how I discipline my men is my business," John snapped at her.

"Discipline is one thing - order him to be punished if need be - but he just looked beat up to me and that's something else," she snapped back. "He's saying that you demoted him because of a private matter that had nothing to with his job. There was something about an argument over an un-collared sub?"

"So he came crying to you?" John shook his head. "Man, he's a whiner - he's whined to you all the way along and he's still doing it."

"And you still haven't given me any answers!" Elizabeth retorted.

"He's playing you! Playing us! The way he has since we arrived!" John told her angrily. "Maybe this will make more sense to you when I tell you that the sub in question, the sub he's talking about, the one we were supposedly fighting over, was Rodney."

That brought her up short. She stared at him, frowning, and then shook her head.

"Rodney? He doesn't even like Rodney. The two of them have been at loggerheads for weeks."

"No. What's been happening is that Bates has been harassing Rodney for weeks - in private, behind closed doors, no witnesses. He had one of those choke collars, the kind they tried to ban? I found him last night trying to make Rodney wear it. If Rodney agreed, Bates was, very kindly, going to help him get his job back."

"What?" Elizabeth looked completely aghast. John wasn't surprised. Abusive tops weren't very common in their society – part of the genetic imperative that led someone to identify as a top in the first place usually also made them protective and caring towards their subs. John wasn't sure why Bates had got it so wrong but there was something about the man that he couldn't put his finger on – something unsettling.

"That's partly why Rodney has been acting out. Bates has been applying the heat and Rodney has been exploding - only we haven't seen the heat, only the explosions, so they weren't making any sense to us. I don't think it's all been about Bates, but, like I said, he's been the catalyst," John told her.

"So you kicked Bates's ass and busted him down to corporal?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. John shrugged. He didn't care if she disapproved of his methods - Bates had deserved a damn good hiding and John didn't regret giving it to him.

"Too damn right I did."

"Good," Elizabeth said, in a low, heartfelt tone. John looked up, startled. "I have issues with abusive tops," Elizabeth explained, with a tight little smile. "And I particularly have issues if Rodney is the sub involved. Besides, as you said, how you discipline your men is your concern, Colonel. I'm certainly not going to interfere. I will say that we're all alone out here so we have to learn to live with Bates somehow. I'll also point out that we need all the good men we can get, and Bates was always very efficient at his job."

"I'll promote someone to take his place," John told her.

"Do you have someone in mind?"

John thought of Hicks, earnest and eager to learn - he'd been impressed by him over the past few weeks. "I have someone with definite potential, yes," he said.

"And as for Rodney...he and I go back a long way," she sighed. "I feel like I've let him down."

"He didn't give us a whole lot to go on," John told her. "But I know what you mean - I feel the same."

"And that leads us onto his current condition and your unauthorised trip offworld," she said. "I know our relationship has been a little dysfunctional lately, but Rodney is both vital to this expedition and pretty special to me personally, John, so I hope you have a damn good explanation for the way he looked just now."

John was startled by her vehemence. Maybe there was just something about Rodney, he thought, something not immediately obvious to the casual observer who might only see Rodney's bluster, sarcasm and arrogance, because all the strongest tops on this base seemed to feel protective towards him - although he was pretty sure that Rodney wouldn't thank them for the sentiment. John nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, before launching into a thorough account of exactly what had happened.
~*~

Rodney woke a few hours later and blinked, several times, wondering where the hell he was. He hurt. His head was pounding, his ankle throbbed and he felt nauseous. His ass ached too and he wondered why...and then the memories of the past 24 hours flooded back in and he gave a little groan. He wasn't even sure where to start with all the humiliating and unpleasant things that had happened to him over the past day, although his sore ass seemed as good a place as any. Damnit, had he *really* broken down and cried like a baby as a result of a simple hand spanking? His pride really didn't want to let him go *there*.

And then having Colonel Sheppard rescue him from that humiliating encounter with Bates and his damn training collar.... And then falling down that stupid ravine and hurting himself - no wonder he felt as if it'd been hit by a truck. None of the aches and pains in his body mattered though, because he hurt more inside. It had been a ZPM, and he had been so sure it would buy him back some of the respect he felt he'd slowly been losing over the previous weeks. The sense of disappointment was hollow in his gut. Everything he touched at the moment seemed to go wrong, and he was so tired of it all.

"Hey. You're awake." Carson's blue eyes were gazing at him affectionately. "Idiot," Carson added for good measure. Rodney managed a faded smile.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"If you were mine, I'd wait until you got better and then give you the spanking of your life for the stunt you pulled last night," Carson told him, but the fond look in his eyes, and the reassuring hand he had on Rodney's shoulder, belied the sternness of his words. Rodney blinked, suddenly realising that he missed having a top to watch out for him. Not that he'd ever really experienced that - he was too much the egotist, too smart and too independent to take kindly to any attempt by his tops to rein him in. He thought it must be nice if you could trust someone enough to let them do that for you, but trust had never come easily to him. Right now though, he wished there was someone he could lean on, someone he could sink back against and let them take care of him. He was so damn tired.

"Oh I'm sure the inevitable punishment isn't too far off," he muttered. He'd sneaked offworld without permission after all, causing Carson and Sheppard to risk their lives chasing after him. He couldn't imagine that Elizabeth was best pleased with him right now - although maybe if he'd brought back a functioning ZPM, and if he hadn't been stupid enough to get himself injured, maybe then she'd be less angry with him. He just hoped she wouldn't appoint the colonel to take care of it. He wasn't sure he could face that. Sheppard had a way of getting under his skin and making him face himself, and that hurt more than any punishment ever could.

Carson was gazing at him sympathetically, his hand squeezing Rodney's arm. "How are you feeling, Rodney?" he asked. "You gave us all quite a scare back there, laddie. Now, you've got a nasty head wound. I've sutured it but I want to keep you here, under observation, for a couple of days."

"Oh god." Rodney tried to sit up, encountered a wave of nausea, and put his head back down again. Carson shook his head.

"No sudden movements - you need to take it easy for a few days."

"No laptop then?" Rodney asked hopefully.

"What do you think, laddie?" Carson rolled his eyes at him.

"I think you always call me laddie when you're being particularly bossy," Rodney retorted.

"Aye, laddie," Carson grinned. "Just so long as you remember that this is my infirmary and I'm in charge here. I know what a terrible patient you are, and I don't want any of your usual moping and complaining."

"I don't mope *or* complain. I just voice my perfectly reasonable protests about..." Rodney began, and then he caught the extremely no-nonsense look in Carson's eyes and he didn't risk continuing down that path. "Oh never mind," he sighed into his pillow. "I'll just lie here and be bored for days on end."

"Good." Carson smiled brightly. "Although I doubt you'll be all that bored. There's a whole list of people who want to visit you."

Rodney frowned. He thought it *should* be the case that people would want to visit him but seeing as he seemed to be on disastrous terms with most of the base, half of whom happily turned out to jeer at him whenever he was being punished, he *really* didn't think that was likely.

"Who?" he asked suspiciously.

"First up is Colonel Sheppard," Carson said brightly, and then he disappeared before Rodney could protest. Rodney glared after him. He felt uncomfortable talking to Sheppard for a whole host of reasons, but it seemed he had no choice because the colonel sauntered in a few minutes later, in that laconic way he had, sat down on the chair beside the bed and put those long legs of his up on the mattress. He looked tired, and his ridiculous dark hair was all mussed up as if he'd just spent hours running his hands through it and disturbing the truckloads of gel he must have to apply to it each day.

"So, how you feeling, Rodney?" he asked.

"Terrible," Rodney snapped.

"You look pretty crappy," Sheppard told him. "Oh. Here. Teyla sent these along." He dumped a bag on the bed beside Rodney, and Rodney peered into it suspiciously.

"What are they?" he asked.

"Some kind of Athosian cherries I think." Sheppard shrugged. "Apparently they're the customary gift for someone who is sick."

"I'm not sick. I fell down a ravine," Rodney quibbled.

"Yeah. You've gotta stop doing that," Sheppard told him with a wry grin.

"I'll bear that in mind next time I'm out hunting for a ZPM in the middle of the night while being assaulted by bat creatures."

"You're on thin ice with that one, Rodney," Sheppard said, shaking his head, and Rodney bit back a frosty retort because the colonel was right about that. "However, I was thinking that as you seem to be making a habit of unauthorised heroics then I'd better teach you how to fire a gun properly - that way you can learn to take care of sky-diving bat creatures without falling down the nearest ravine."

Rodney glared at him but he wasn't entirely sure why. He felt uncomfortable about spending any more time than was necessary with the laidback colonel, but at the same time he felt rather pleased that Sheppard thought he was worth the effort.

"Not that there's gonna be a next time," Sheppard said firmly. "Because from now on, if you ever, ever, go offworld without permission again, or if you do something really stupid, like running off by yourself while we're on a mission, then the punishment I gave your ass last night will seem like a slap on the wrist by comparison. Clear?"

"Perfectly," Rodney muttered, feeling his face flush warmly. He really didn't want to think about the previous evening and how it had felt to lower himself over the colonel's knees. It had been too intimate, too personal, and he wasn't comfortable with it.

"I really want to talk to you about that," Sheppard said, leaning forward.

"And I really don't," Rodney replied.

"Tough." Sheppard shrugged. "Look, I'm not going to apologise for punishing you because I think you deserved it. I never, ever leave people behind, and while I can understand why you lied to me, don't ever do anything like that again, Rodney. But...." He reached out a hand, as if he wanted to touch Rodney's arm, but then drew back, his hazel eyes conflicted. "I *am* sorry for what you went through with Bates. I wish you had felt you could have told us what was going on - it makes me really uneasy that you were punished all those times when he was making your life such a misery."

Rodney stared at a spot somewhere over the colonel's shoulder. He really would have preferred it if Sheppard had come in here and been distant, or even if he'd yelled at him for going offworld without permission, but an apology was harder to take.

"I should have been able to handle him," he muttered. "I'm not a child, Colonel. I don't need to be protected. You have no idea how much it pisses me off that you had to come riding over the hill to rescue me from the clutches of the big bad top. I've never imagined myself to be one of *those* subs. I feel like I got trapped in a really bad movie and that makes the whole thing even worse." He shuddered. "It's not even as if he was the cool-but-sexy villain. He was just a thug - a really stupid, dumbass thug."

Sheppard laughed at that and Rodney glared at him, annoyed. Sheppard shook his head. "I'm sorry - I just figured out that what's really pissing you off is not that Bates tried to force his collar on you but that he was smart about it," he grinned. "He had a plan and it damn well nearly succeeded, and you're mad as hell about that."

Rodney gazed at him through narrowed eyes. "Did you want me to tell you that you'd outstayed your welcome, or have you figured that out for yourself?" he scowled. Sheppard laughed again.

"Message received. Loud and clear," he said, unfolding those long legs of his and getting up. He leaned forward, and for just one second there was an intense look in his eyes that took Rodney by surprise. "I'll be back this evening," he said. "I'm glad you're okay, Rodney." He ran his hand gently along Rodney's arm, never taking his eyes off Rodney's face, and Rodney felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he shivered, puzzled by his reaction. Then the moment passed, and Sheppard turned to go.

"He didn't nearly succeed," Rodney said quietly, just as Sheppard reached the door. Sheppard glanced back over his shoulder. "The answer would always have been no," Rodney said, thrusting out his chin obstinately.

A fierce look flared in Sheppard's eyes, and the colonel nodded at him. "I know that, Rodney," he said softly, and then he left.

Rodney closed his eyes and tried to sleep but found he couldn't switch off. He just lay there, remembering how awkward and yet how easy it had been to lower himself over Sheppard's knee. He felt as if he'd been falling for a very long time, and then Sheppard had come along and caught him, upturned him over his knee, and broken through barriers and walls that Rodney had constructed a very long time ago.

He dozed, only to find Sheppard chasing him through his dreams as he re-lived the events of the past 24 hours over and over again, all jumbled up in his mind. He could still see the look of surprise on Bates's face as Sheppard had clawed him away, and thrown him bodily across the room. Could still feel the cold steel of that training collar pressed against his neck, and the raw, hungry look in Bates's eyes as he'd forced him against the wall and demanded his submission.

Then he was lying at the bottom of that ravine, lost in the dark, and Sheppard had appeared out of nowhere, looming over him, asking if he was hurt, rubbing dirt off the side of his face and smiling at him with that goofy, laid-back smile. Yet all the while those hazel eyes of his held a different expression entirely, hinting that the colonel wore a mask that nobody was ever meant to see behind. What did lie behind it, Rodney wondered, feverishly, as he tossed and turned on his infirmary bed. Who was the real John Sheppard? Was it the effortlessly cool, if slightly distant man, who sauntered around this base exuding a kind of easy charm that Rodney distrusted instinctively? Or was it the man who had just brushed his arm; intense and dangerous, with a fierce, dark, passionate edge that thrilled Rodney even as it scared him?

Rodney didn't know the answer to that question, and, finally, he managed to fall into an exhausted, troubled sleep.

It was late afternoon when Rodney woke, his head was still pounding, and there was a visitor sitting beside his bed, typing quietly into her laptop. Rodney blinked, blearily, and Elizabeth smiled at him and closed her laptop, putting it to one side.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, her hand finding his on the blanket, and squeezing, gently.

"Yeah." He managed to sit up and she rearranged his pillows behind him. His mouth felt dry, and Elizabeth poured him a glass of water and held it out for him to drink. Then he lay back, exhausted by the effort.

"Colonel Sheppard told me everything," she said.

Rodney sighed. "Everything?" he groaned.

She grinned. "Everything," she said firmly. "You and I need to mend some fences, Rodney."

"Wish I knew how," he muttered, meaning it. "I'd like to promise that everything will be okay from now on...but...I keep surprising myself you see. Don't know what's going on really. Everything...got kind of jumbled up."

She gazed at him thoughtfully, and then nodded. "Let's take it one day at a time then."

"All right. Are you going to have Sheppard punish me for running off last night?" he asked, wearily.

"Does it work?" She raised an eyebrow.

"When Sheppard does it? Probably," he replied, honestly.

"I'll bear that in mind then. But, Rodney, nobody is going to punish you for last night," she said firmly, getting up and coming to sit on the bed beside him. "I think, because we're so far from home, and there are so many pressures out here, that maybe you and I lost touch with what's important. I'm sorry for my part in that. I'm just glad you're okay." And then she took his head gently between her hands, leaned forward, and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. Rodney blinked uncertainly. "Please don't do that again, Rodney," she told him, drawing back and gazing at him affectionately. "You're far too important for us to lose you."

"Well that's true enough," he replied. "I mean, Zelenka's good but he's not brilliant. He's not a bona fide genius like yours truly."

She gave a little gurgle of laughter. "You're probably right!" she said, and then she shook her head, her smile fading. "But that's not what I meant," she added softly, her hazel eyes deadly serious. "Get well soon, Rodney. And please remember that if anything upsets you then you can talk to me. My door is always open – especially to you."

She got up, picked up her laptop, and left. Rodney gazed after her, startled. It occurred to him then, that despite his best attempts to keep people at arm's length, somehow they'd all crept in under the radar anyway. Carson, Sheppard, Elizabeth - even Radek and some of the other members of his staff. He had responsibilities here, and people who cared about him, and he really needed to stop being an idiot and start being Dr McKay again. Not that the whole belated teen rebellion thing hadn't been fun, in its own way.

Rodney closed his eyes again, and this time, when he slept, it was a deep, dreamless, healing sleep.

The next few days crawled by interminably. Once Rodney started to feel better he made sure that everyone in the infirmary was just as miserable as he was, and Carson's lectures gradually mutated from the wearily sympathetic to the extremely pissed off. Rodney was immune to it. He was bored and desperate to be back at work, and he hated all the enforced idleness.

"I feel sorry for the top you end up with!" Carson admonished him in desperation after one particularly heated exchange.

"Hah. There isn't a top around who could handle me!" Rodney riposted.

"You're the worst patient I've ever had!"

"You're the worst doctor I've ever had!"

"Is there a problem here?" Sheppard arrived, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. Rodney scowled at him. The colonel visited him every morning before his shift began and every evening after it ended, and Rodney had no idea why. He could only assume that Sheppard felt guilty for punishing him and was trying to make it up to him. Either that or he thought Rodney was such trouble that he wanted to keep an eye on him.

"No problem, no," Carson said, glaring at Rodney maliciously. "Rodney was just telling me that there isn't a top alive who could handle him. Apparently."

"Is that so?" Sheppard leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest and regarding Rodney in a way that made Rodney's scalp tingle and his entire body flush. His eyes raked over Rodney's face, amused, like a cat playing with a cornered mouse. "You should be careful about making those kinds of statements in public," Sheppard drawled. "Some tops might take it for a challenge."

"He started it!" Rodney accused, pointing at Carson.

"Aye, I did," Carson nodded. "I was just telling him, colonel, that I pity the top he ends up with, poor bugger." The two of them exchanged a look that Rodney didn't understand at all, and then Sheppard burst out laughing.

"Oh, I'm sure there's someone out there who can tame him," he said.

"I'm ill and you're taunting me. It's not good for my recovery," Rodney sniffed. "If only Carson would let me go back to my quarters...."

"You've only got a couple more days in here, Rodney," Sheppard said, in that reasonable tone of voice, helping himself to one of Rodney's Athosian cherries.

"He won't let me work!" Rodney accused.

"Well then we're even because you won't let me work, either!" Carson exploded.

"How's his ankle? Can he walk?" Sheppard asked.

Carson shrugged. "He can hobble."

"Good. Then how about I get him out of your hair for a couple of hours - wear him out with a walk down to the south-west pier?"

"That would make me a very happy man," Carson breathed. "Thank you, Colonel. A wee bit of mild exercise would do him good I think."

"Isn't anybody going to ask *me* whether I want to go for a walk?" Rodney fumed. Sheppard and Carson glanced at each other, and then shook their heads.

"Nah," Sheppard said.

"It's a miracle anyone ever gets better with this kind of care," Rodney snapped. "First I'm locked up with the local witchdoctor for days on end, and then I'm made to go out walking in the cold...."

"It's summer," Sheppard pointed out.

"Whatever," Rodney sniffed.

Sheppard grinned, and held out his hand. "Come on, Rodney, before Carson kills you with his bare hands."

"Fine. Ignore me. The pair of you just enjoy bossing me around when I'm too ill to fight back," Rodney complained, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and treading down gingerly. His ankle was still very painful and he had a pronounced limp. Carson held up a bathrobe and helped him into it.

"Oh you're doing just fine with the fighting back thing. Here take my arm." Sheppard held out his arm. Rodney looked at it as if it was a poisonous snake.

"I can manage," he growled, holding onto the side of the bed as the room swam a little.
Sheppard grabbed his hand, wrapped it firmly around his own arm, and then held it there.

"If you feel like you're going to pass out, or you're too tired to go any further, then tell me," he said. Rodney glared at him, but he knew he'd never manage to walk all the way down to the south-west pier without holding onto something, so he finally gave in.

It was kind of nice to be out of the infirmary too, even if he really wanted to be at work and not wandering at a snail's pace through the city hallways, clad in his pyjamas and bathrobe, hanging onto Colonel Sheppard's arm. Sheppard was being kind of nice to him, making conversation about the puddle jumpers, and how he'd recently made a trip over to the mainland to visit the Athosians in their new settlement.

They finally reached the south-west pier, and Rodney released his grip on Sheppard's arm and hung onto the balustrade. He'd spent so long locked up in his lab that he'd forgotten how good it felt to just stand, soaking up the sunshine, the wind gently rifling through his hair. Atlantean summers were pleasant too - not too hot, but nice and warm, and he sighed, and gazed out across the ocean.

"This is my favourite place in the city," Sheppard told him. "I often come here just to get away from things. To sit and think."

"It is nice," Rodney agreed, suddenly realising he'd only ever viewed the city as a piece of machinery, something that had to be made to work, something to be maintained. He'd never gone anywhere to just sit and think.

"You ever been on the mainland, Rodney?" Sheppard asked, gesturing with his head into the deep blue yonder. Rodney shook his head. "It's nice - a bit wild, but nice. After I finished dropping off supplies for the Athosians, I took the puddle jumper along the coast and found this great beach. White gold sand, pure blue water - completely unspoiled."

"You sound like a travel brochure," Rodney muttered.

Sheppard grinned. "Maybe I'll take you there one day," he said.

Rodney scowled. "I hate beaches. You get sand between your toes and salt in your hair and everything's messy."

"You must have liked going to the beach when you were a kid." Sheppard put his head on one side and gazed at Rodney intently. Rodney shifted, uncomfortable under all that hazel-eyed scrutiny.

"I don't remember ever going to the beach as a kid," he muttered. "My parents didn't believe in vacations - it would have meant them spending too much time together. They hated each other."

"Why did they stay together then?" Sheppard asked in a curious tone.

"They had some weird co-dependency thing going on, and besides I think they enjoyed the battle too much. They were both switches, and neither of them ever wanted to give an inch to the other. They were locked into this little battle and they loved it."

"Must have been kind of hard to be in the middle of all that."

"Are you kidding? It was gruesome. They used me and my sister like chess pieces in their warped game of marital dysfunction. We were moved across the board, back and forth, like pawns, and god knows they were Grand Masters at it. You?"

Sheppard looked taken by surprise by the way Rodney had thrown the topic back at him but he just shrugged, in that casual way he had.

"My dads were great. *And* they took me to the beach. A lot," he grinned. The wind lifted his dark hair, and the evening sun bathed him in orange light from behind, making him look impossibly handsome. Rodney grunted. He hated impossibly handsome people. He especially hated impossibly handsome people with an easygoing charm and perfect childhoods. It was irritating. It was nice being out though. Sheppard was easy to be with, and Rodney found himself letting his guard down a little, and chatting. He was surprised when Carson radioed Sheppard to ask where his patient was as they'd been gone for a couple of hours.

The fresh air knocked him out, and by the time Sheppard delivered him back to his bed he sank back on the pillows, closed his eyes, and fell into an immediate doze. He was vaguely aware of Sheppard and Carson having a conversation but it washed over him, like waves on the seashore, coming in and out of focus.

"How did it go?"

"Fine. No - great."

"You didn't end up wanting to throttle him then?"

"Nope. He's got this weird vulnerability thing going on. Even when he's at his most obnoxious you still can't help liking him."

"Aye. Damn him. So you haven't changed your mind?"

"Yeah, right. You know me better than that by now, Doc. If anything I feel it more strongly than ever - and I'll do whatever it takes. I mean - look at him - he's...."

Rodney didn't hear any more as he was sound asleep.

It was a great relief when he was finally released from the infirmary and allowed to go back to his lab and see what kind of a mess Radek had made of things while he'd been gone. Nothing had been done to his satisfaction so he set about correcting all his team's errors while at the same time pointing them out to them as loudly as possible. He managed to berate every single member of his staff by ten a.m. on his first day and felt much better thereafter.
He was surprised when Colonel Sheppard dropped by at lunchtime and asked him if he was going to the mess hall to eat.

"I thought I'd grab a sandwich and work through," Rodney replied curtly.

"It's your first day back. You should take a proper break," Sheppard told him. Rodney sighed, loudly.

"Oh all right - I suppose Carson sent you to check up on me," he muttered. Sheppard just grinned and shrugged, and Rodney assumed that he'd been right about that so he wasn't entirely surprised when Sheppard showed up again in the evening.

"Dinner?" the colonel suggested.

"You really don't need to make sure I eat. I always remember to eat," Rodney told him, rolling his eyes. "Go and tell Carson that I'm fine, and I don't need a babysitter."

Sheppard grinned again. "You don't always remember to eat as we both know all too well. And I need you to eat right now because I don't want you fainting on me in the firing range."

Rodney frowned. "What?"

"Firing range. I'm giving you your first lesson tonight."

"And when were you going to tell me this?" Rodney snapped.

"I just did."

"Well it's impossible. I've been away from the lab for days, and it's a miracle the city is even still standing as my completely incompetent staff seem to have managed to wreck just about every single thing I asked them to do."

"It's your first day back and you are not working in here until midnight," Sheppard told him firmly. "Carson said you had to take it easy."

"Carson knows I always ignore him when he says that."

"He might. I don't," Sheppard shrugged. "Seems to me that if he says take it easy then that's what you're going to do. The firing range will be a good change of scene, and besides, you need the practice. Now, tear yourself away from your laptop and let's get moving. I'm starving."

Rodney stood there, completely flummoxed. "You're serious about this aren't you?" he said. Sheppard just smiled. "What if I say no?" Rodney narrowed his eyes.

"You don't want to do that," Sheppard replied easily, still smiling.

Rodney sighed and gave in. "Some tops just can't leave it in the bedroom," he muttered to himself as he limped over to the door. Sheppard gave a little snort, as if he'd heard that, and when Rodney got close he put a hand on his shoulder and escorted him out into the hallway.

Rodney had very little interest in guns, beyond a kind of vague horror that he might accidentally shoot off some part of his own anatomy in a moment of blind panic. He had to admit (to himself at least but not to Sheppard) that the colonel was a pretty good teacher. He explained how the gun worked (a lecture that made Rodney mentally roll his eyes because he knew how a goddamn gun worked), and then moved onto the best way to hold a weapon and how to load ammunition on the move. Then, finally, he gave Rodney a handgun to fire.

"No - don't stand like that - stand like this." Sheppard moved close behind him, and slid his fingers over Rodney's hands where they were held out in front of his body, clutching the gun. Rodney could feel Sheppard's breath on the side of his face, and the front of the colonel's body was pressed tight against his back and buttocks. Rodney found himself going very still, and his breathing seemed to slow down. He tried to concentrate on what Sheppard was saying but all coherent thought seemed to have escaped him. He felt very calm, very quiet...sort of lost in a little world of his own. It was the most peaceful he'd felt in a very long time, and he longed for the sensation to last. Then Sheppard was squeezing his hands, encouraging him with low, hypnotic tones, and Rodney found himself firing at the paper target, rapidly, one shot after another, and every shot was going home, right in the centre, tearing the target apart.

"Wow," Sheppard murmured in his ear, and Rodney broke out into a warm sweat. "Looks like you've been holding out on us, McKay."

"Did I do that? I didn't do that! My god - I did that!" Sheppard loosened his grasp on him and Rodney jumped towards the target excitedly. "There - see - genius *and* sharp shooter!" he exclaimed, hopping from one foot to the other in glee.

"Try again," Sheppard said, laughing at his obvious excitement.

Rodney took up position, and fired at the new target Sheppard put in place - and missed, dismally, several times, although one shot did puncture one of the lights overhead.

"Must have been a fluke," Rodney sighed, dejected. "Damnit! I always wanted to be good at something cool - not that rocket science and astrophysics aren't cool, but, well, you know, nobody else thinks so - but this *is* cool. If I could have done this at school then maybe I wouldn't have had to hide beneath the bleachers during recess with those idiots from the science club who got beat up all the time."

"You used to hide beneath the bleachers?" Sheppard raised an amused eyebrow.

"With our experiments!" Rodney explained, as if that rendered it less sad. "I nearly split the atom under the bleachers. There was this one time when...."

"Shall we try again?" Sheppard suggested. "And this time...." He came up behind Rodney and pressed in close again, his hands sliding down Rodney's arms and over his fingers and squeezing, "Stroke the weapon gently. Imagine you're on your knees, pleasuring some fantastically hung top, and you don't want to piss him off by going too fast, too soon, so you're just gently doing this...." Rodney felt his throat go dry as Sheppard talked, in that slow drawl of his, straight into his ear. He was a captive within the colonel's embrace, and that sensation made him want to go very still, and he felt that warm, peaceful glow descend on him again. He squeezed the trigger, as instructed, and hit the target in the centre, just as he had before.

"There you go," Sheppard said, as he finished firing. "Not a fluke."

"No," Rodney said softly. He didn't have the heart to tell the colonel that if he was going to repeat the feat in the field then Sheppard would have to be standing right behind him, whispering in his ear the entire time.

Rodney was tired by the time he returned to his quarters later that evening. Maybe Sheppard had been right about the whole taking it easy thing. The colonel insisted on walking him back to his rooms before saying goodnight and Rodney assumed the man didn't actually trust him not to go back to his lab. Of course, he might be right not to trust him, as Rodney had definitely considered it, but he was just too tired and his head was spinning. Rodney crossed the room, moving his head from side to side to relieve an ache in his neck, and he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He had a pink scar on his head from where he'd fallen the previous week. That was already fading but what struck him, suddenly, was how long it had been since he'd really looked at himself.

He got up close and examined his reflection, wincing slightly. His hair was long, far longer than was really respectable, and kind of greasy, matted at the ends from where he'd run his fingers through it after eating a jelly donut earlier in the day. It was sticking up in places, giving him a dishevelled look. He couldn't be bothered with shaving most days, and just did the minimum to keep the stubble on his chin from getting wildly out of hand. His clothes were clean enough, and he knew that he didn't smell, but he tended to just pull on whatever came to hand, without thinking about it. The result was that he was wearing an oversized tee shirt with a pair of baggy cargo pants, making him look a bit like a tramp, in clothes that were a size too big for him. Rodney pulled up the tee shirt and surveyed his stomach - it was perhaps a bit flatter than it used to be, and he hadn't been eating as regularly over the past couple of months as he usually did. No wonder his clothes were hanging off him.

"Man you look bad," he muttered to his reflection. He considered rummaging around in his belongings for some more flattering clothes - or bartering for some a size smaller on Atantis's flourishing black market - and possibly having his hair trimmed too while he was at it, but then he stopped. He remembered the look on Bates's face as he'd tried to put that collar on him and the last thing he wanted was to attract the attention of any other psychotic tops out there. Better to keep them at bay with both his sharp tongue and his slovenly appearance. There weren't any tops on the base who interested him in any case - he'd made a vow to himself that he wasn't going anywhere near a military top ever again, and none of the scientists was remotely appealing so that pretty much ruled out everyone. He couldn't see the point in smartening up just for the sake of it, either. He held out his arms, clutching a pretend gun, and re-lived the sensation of John Sheppard sliding his hands sensuously down his arms, his body pressed so close that Rodney could almost hear the beating of his heart. What kind of a top would John Sheppard be, he wondered? Then he dismissed the thought immediately.

"Impossibly handsome, remember?" he told himself. "Undoubtedly full of himself. The kind who'd make you blow them in front of a mirror just so they can watch themselves come. And he'd make you do his hair every morning. Probably already has a sub just to do that. A special hair sub - the servant of the gel. Dedicated to the sole task of whipping that artfully tousled hair into a state of perfection every morning. Expect he beats the hell out of the poor bastard if there's so much as one strand going in the wrong direction. Are you talking to yourself in the mirror? Why, yes I am. Idiot."

He moved away, stripped off his clothes, and went to take a shower, trying to banish all thoughts of John Sheppard from his mind.

Keeping John Sheppard out of his mind would be a lot easier if John Sheppard would only keep out of his sight, Rodney thought to himself a few days later. It was bizarre, but everywhere he went the colonel seemed to pop up a few seconds later.

It started with breakfast - no matter what time he got to the mess hall to eat, Sheppard always seemed to show up before he got the first spoonful of food to his lips. The colonel would wander in, glance around the room, and his eyes would fall unfailingly on Rodney. Then he'd come over, sit down beside him or opposite him, and give that lazy grin of his. They'd make conversation - Sheppard would ask him about what he had planned for his day, and Rodney would explain that it was far too complicated for a mere Airforce colonel to understand. Sheppard would just smile and say 'try me' and that was like a red rag to a bull to Rodney who'd immediately find himself launching into a detailed technical explanation in the hope of proving to the colonel that there was no way he'd be able to keep up. Much to his annoyance, Sheppard was actually pretty good at keeping up, and would even ask the occasional intelligent question. Finally Rodney would realise that he was running late and tear himself away and forget about Sheppard for a few hours while he worked - until the colonel showed up around lunch time, where he would proceed to hang around the lab, getting underfoot, until such time as Rodney agreed to go and have lunch with him.

There wasn't even any escaping the man in the evening - he seemed to know precisely what time Rodney would finish work, and Rodney would find him lounging around outside the lab door, or just nonchalantly walking down the hallway at the exact moment Rodney was leaving. It was kind of spooky, and Rodney was starting to get freaked by it. It wasn't that he minded the man's company as such, but he couldn't help thinking that maybe this was all part of some giant practical joke, and if it was, then he was pretty sure the joke would be on him. Sheppard was military after all. Alternatively...it was possible that Sheppard was keeping an eye on him, determined that he wouldn't cause any more mayhem after the whole running off to find a ZPM stunt he'd pulled. That irritated Rodney - he was doing his best to turn things around after all the problems he'd had when they first arrived, and he resented the fact that he wasn't trusted.

The third possibility, which Rodney suspected was the most likely, was that Carson had appointed Sheppard as his personal health supervisor or something, and the man was under orders to trail around after him to make sure he was eating and not falling down ravines, or otherwise hurting himself.

After two weeks of this, Rodney finally snapped when Sheppard came to his lab late one night and leaned against the wall.

"It's nearly midnight," the colonel said.

"And your point would be?" Rodney frowned, trying to couple two extremely delicate wiring systems together, his fingers shaking ever so slightly from an overload of the caffeine he'd been consuming every half an hour throughout the course of the day.

"My point being that what you're doing looks kind of fiddly and complicated so wouldn't it be better to wait until morning when you're fresh?" Sheppard commented.

"Do I tell you how to run your missions? No," Rodney said firmly. "Do I hang around your office making suggestions about rotas and rifles and I don't know, all that military stuff that I presume you do all day? No."

"You'd be perfectly welcome to hang around my office. It's not as much fun as your office though," Sheppard grinned, glancing around the lab. "For a start, nothing gets blown up - well, for the most part anyway. And any time you have any suggestions about rifles I'd be interested to hear 'em."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "It was just an example. I have no idea what you do all day but I'm sure it's very important and involves far more blowing things up than I get to do, more's the pity. Oh fuck." The coupling escaped from his shaking fingers and slid to the floor. Rodney bent down and retrieved it.

"How much coffee have you been drinking?" Sheppard asked. Rodney bristled.

"None of your damn business."

"It's just that your fingers are shaking."

"I'm perfectly well aware of that, thank you, Colonel!"

"Okay. Just saying." Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the wall. "Only it seems to me that if you worked shorter hours, and took more care of your health, then you'd probably get just as much done because you'd have a clearer head - and you won't have worked yourself into the ground in the process."

Rodney gave him the Evil Glare of Doom that he saved for only his most irritating staff members - only to find, much to his irritation, that it didn't seem to work on Sheppard who just grinned at him. Rodney muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath and turned back to the coupling. He was so distracted by Sheppard's comment though, that his fingers slipped and he sliced one of them on the sharp metal casing. He dropped the wires with a yelp and clutched his hand to his chest as large droplets of red blood fell on the floor.

"Easy. Here, let me see," Sheppard said, suddenly by his side, his hand on Rodney's shoulder.

"No. You have done enough, Colonel. This wouldn't have happened if you weren't so annoying. Now just get out of my way." Rodney made for the door, still clutching his bleeding hand to his chest. Sheppard fell into step beside him. "I mean it!" Rodney growled. "I'm going to the infirmary and I don't need your help getting there. Leave me alone!" Sheppard thought about it for a moment, and then nodded, and allowed Rodney to go on his way.

Rodney strode down to the infirmary, to find Dr Biro the only occupant. He glared at her. "Where's Carson?"

"In bed I'd imagine," she replied. "It's gone midnight, Dr McKay. Are you hurt? I'm the doctor on night duty. Can I help?"

"No, you can't," Rodney said, turning his back on her and marching off in the direction of Carson's quarters. He kicked the door several times before his friend finally answered it, dark hair tousled, blue eyes sleepy and bemused.

"Rodney? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay!" Rodney snapped, pushing past Carson and striding into his room. "I'm bleeding, and it's all your fault. Oh." He pulled up short as he saw someone slide out of Carson's bed and reach for his clothes.

"I'll leave you to it, Doc," the man said, pulling on his pants and then pressing a kiss to Carson's cheek. "Thanks for tonight - and, you know, good luck with McKay. You'll probably need it."

Rodney watched him go, open-mouthed, and then rounded on his friend. "Ford? You're sleeping with Ford?" he said, in disbelief.

"Why not? He's a good looking lad," Carson said defensively.

"He's a kid."

"He's legal! And he's cute!"

"He's got a massive crush on Teyla!"

"I know!" Carson snapped at him, two angry red dots appearing on both his cheeks. "I'm bloody well aware of that! He made no bones about it - came here this evening and said he wanted some no strings fun, couldn't promise anything more as he was holding out for Teyla, but in the meantime he's a sub, I'm a top, and why not play?"

"You're such a slut," Rodney said, sitting down on the side of the bed.

"I haven't taken a sub in months!" Carson protested. "I'm lonely!"

"He's *military*," Rodney growled.

"So?" Carson shook his head. "Just because you had a wee bit of bother with some of the military lads doesn't mean they're all bad. I like Aiden - he's a very eager-to-please young man and we enjoyed a nice scene this evening."

"I don't want to hear about it." Rodney glanced at the lube on the nightstand, the soft wrist
restraints hanging from the bed, and a rather sumptuous looking suede flogger abandoned on the floor.

"I wasn't going to damn well tell you about it!" Carson said. "Rodney what are you doing here? Damn it - are you bleeding on my sheets?"

"Oh. Yes. Sorry about that," Rodney muttered, looking down at his wounded hand, from which splashes of blood were dripping.

"Show me." Carson sat down beside him and pulled his hand over, none too gently.

"Ow!" Rodney complained.

"There is a night doctor on duty you know," Carson told him. "If you want more caring treatment you know where you can go."

"I wanted to see you, seeing as how this is all your fault," Rodney retorted, nodding at his bleeding hand.

"My fault? How the hell is this anything to do with me?" Carson asked, his fingers carefully probing Rodney's wound with their usual gentle skill, despite his words.

"It's Sheppard! You've got to call him off," Rodney said. Carson frowned.

"Call him off? What do you mean, lad?"

"I mean that you have to tell him to stop following me around. I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself. I'm not about to fall down any more ravines!"

"You think...you think that I've somehow set the colonel on you to make sure you don't do yourself any harm?" Carson asked, blankly.

"Well haven't you?" Rodney said, jutting out his jaw, suddenly feeling a little less sure of himself. Carson laughed, softly, shaking his head.

"No, Rodney. I haven't."

"Then why does he keep *appearing* all the time?" Rodney asked, puzzled. "Everywhere I go, he's there. Oh my god! You don't think he's stalking me do you?"

"Why would he do that?" Carson looked like he was having trouble keeping himself from bursting into a fit of hysterical giggles.

"I have no idea. But why does he keep meeting me at meal times, hmm? And when I'm walking down the hallways he just pops up and he...he puts his hand on my shoulder," Rodney said, in a low, meaningful tone, because that seemed particularly sinister now he thought about it.

"Maybe he's just being nice?" Carson suggested.

"Why would he be nice?" Rodney asked, blankly. Carson sighed.

"I have no idea, Rodney, but I do know a way you can find out."

"Really? How?" Rodney leaned forward conspiratorially. Carson leaned in too.

"You could try asking him," he said, in a whisper.

Rodney gazed at him for a second, wondering what on earth he meant, and then realised he was being teased.

"Oh thank you very much, Doctor. Ha, ha," he said mirthlessly. "Are you done with my hand yet?"

"No - but it's not very serious. You need to go to the infirmary and get Dr Biro to wash it and bandage it, and then you'll be right as rain," Carson told him. Rodney glared at him.

"Hah. It's bad enough letting you loose on me with your witchdoctor needles but now you expect me to let some other practitioner of the voodoo arts get their hands on me."

"You'll be fine." Carson got to his feet, pulled Rodney off the bed, and then pushed him towards the door.

"If I die it'll be your fault," Rodney told him.

"I'll just have to live with it on my conscience," Carson replied sadly.

Rodney hesitated in the doorway. "Seriously - you didn't tell Sheppard to keep an eye on me?"

"Seriously. I didn't." Carson shook his head.

"Hmmm." Rodney sighed, and walked out of the door.

"You're welcome!" Carson yelled after him. Rodney thought he heard some Gaelic swearing coming from the doctor's room as he walked away but he couldn't be entirely sure.

Rodney pondered the whole situation with Sheppard for the next few days. The colonel didn't seem to have taken his brush-off amiss, and he still showed up for breakfast the next morning and insisted on sitting with Rodney, as usual. He asked after Rodney's bandaged hand, which Rodney held pointedly on the table so that nobody could miss it. Rodney found himself sneaking glances at the colonel when the other man wasn't looking, wondering what the hell was going on.

It would help if Sheppard wasn't so damn attractive - Rodney found his gaze lingering on the colonel's permanently moist lower lip, on the lean swagger of his hips, that neat, firm ass, and the surprising elegance of his hands. He didn't find his answers in any of those things though - Sheppard had that lazy, cool mask completely in place, and Rodney longed to get behind it for just a moment, to glimpse that other man again, the dark, passionate, edgy man who'd thrown Bates across the room, or the commanding, demanding man who'd broken down every one of Rodney's barriers during that punishment session.

He got his wish a few days later on TMP-0986. They'd been on the trail of another ZPM, and Rodney had run on ahead excitedly as his readings had indicated they were close, when a bunch of hostile natives appeared from nowhere. The first Rodney knew about the danger was when an arrow missed his nose by millimetres, and ended up embedded in the tree beside him. He'd turned, horrified, just in time to see Sheppard bearing down on him. The colonel grabbed his arm and threw him, almost bodily, out of harm's way, and then rolled down the side of a mossy bank after him, firing his gun as he went. He came to a halt on top of Rodney, and Rodney tried to disentangle himself impatiently.

"What the hell...?" Rodney began. Sheppard put a hand over his mouth and Rodney's eyes widened.

"Keep very quiet and very still," the colonel hissed, gazing meaningfully over Rodney's shoulder. Rodney gazed up at him, horrified, and was then surprised to find his body going completely still under the colonel's warm weight. This wasn't the first time this had happened and Rodney wondered what it was about the colonel that made him feel calm when he would normally be all panicking like crazy.

Rodney heard people moving around just yards away, and he held his breath, hoping they'd pass by without seeing them. Sheppard looked down on him, and gave just the faintest hint of a quirky grin. Rodney managed a ghost of a smile in return. Sheppard was heavy on top of him, and even though he lacked Rodney's breadth, he made up for that in height, and a steely strength that took Rodney by surprise. Rodney felt himself relaxing even more under the colonel's hard body, and he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. Sheppard smelled of sweat from their recent exertion, but there was something else about his scent, something warm and musky, that made Rodney want to sink back further, and open his legs and....

Rodney's eyes flashed open, horrified at where his mental image had gone. Sheppard's knee was between his thighs, and their groins were pressed against each other, and Rodney could feel himself getting hard. If only he could banish that persistent mental image of Sheppard holding him down, arms above his head, the full weight of his body pressed on top of Rodney while he slowly....

There was a shout above them, and Rodney looked up to see one of their attackers pointing at them. He was almost relieved that they'd been discovered before his growing erection embarrassed him further, and the prospect of imminent disembowelment by a sharp arrow, although not entirely dissimilar to his fantasies, did at least focus his mind on survival rather than sex. Sheppard got to his feet, grabbed hold of Rodney, and pushed him away, yelling at him to run while he covered him. Rodney took off, his heart pounding in his chest as he stumbled through the trees, crashing so loudly that all he could hear was the sound of his own panicked flight.

He was dimly aware of gunfire behind him, and he half-turned, anxious to make sure that Sheppard was okay, and, not looking where he was going, he crashed straight into a tree and bounced off it, landing awkwardly on the mossy forest floor. It was only then that he realised it hadn't been a tree he'd careened into, but the solid chest of a man standing a good six feet six inches, and built like the side of a mountain. He was dressed in strips of leather, and had a whole rack of knives hanging from his extremely impressive black belt. He looked like his entire purpose in life was to fight in hand-to-hand combat - and it was clearly a sport he enjoyed, if the big grin on his face was anything to go by.

Rodney tried to scramble away, terrified, but the man just laughed at him, revealing a set of gold teeth, and then he reached out one big arm, and pulled Rodney bodily to his feet by the collar on his shirt. He looked Rodney up and down for a moment, and then gave a distinct leer. He looked as if he was about to run his fingers over Rodney's face, but there was a noise behind them and instead he swung Rodney round, and pulled him close against him, so that Rodney's back was pressed against his attacker's flat, hard belly. Rodney felt the sharp blade of a knife pressing against his throat and at that exact moment Sheppard ran into sight...and came to a sudden halt, breathing heavily, as he saw the situation Rodney was in.

"I...uh...don't think he's friendly," Rodney squeaked.

"You don't say." Sheppard looked kind of pissed off, which wasn't exactly the reaction Rodney had been expecting. Okay, so he'd just gotten himself into a hostage situation but he was sure that wasn't entirely his fault. Sheppard didn't look like he cared about that though, and there was an extremely angry glow in his hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry!" Rodney called to the furious colonel. "He just appeared out of nowhere. I crashed straight into him." Sheppard barely looked at him, his eyes were fixed instead on the man holding him hostage.

"Let him go and I won't hurt you too much," he said, waving his gun menacingly in the air.

"Uh...hello! He's the one with the bargaining chip right now!" Rodney protested. The big man just wrapped his beefy arm more tightly around Rodney's body, and pressed the blade of his knife closely against Rodney's neck. It was uncomfortable, and Rodney could feel the knife pressing against his skin. He swallowed hard, knowing that one quick slice of that sharp knife could cut his jugular, and end his life within seconds.

"What do you want?" Sheppard asked. The big man growled something in a language Rodney didn't understand. "Is that the only language you speak?" Sheppard demanded. Another torrent of something that Rodney didn't understand, and, right at the end, his captor spat on the ground as if to emphasise his point.

"Charming," Rodney muttered. "Homicidal *and* lacking in manners."

"He doesn't speak English, Rodney," Sheppard told him. "So he won't understand what I'm telling you to do. When I say 'duck', I want you to do just that - try and elbow him in the belly while you're at it."

"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" Rodney yelled. "He's got a knife on my jugular, Colonel. There is no way you're that good a shot that you're going to get him and not me."

"Rodney - just do as I say and you'll be fine," Sheppard ground out, looking extremely pissed off now.

"No way. No. No, no, no," Rodney said emphatically. "Why don't we try reasoning with these people? I'm sure they're very nice. It's just a little misunderstanding." He looked up at his captor hopefully, and the man grinned down at him, the light glinting menacingly off his gold teeth.

"How can we reason with them if they don't understand a word we're saying?" Sheppard yelled at him. "We don't even know why they're pissed off with us! For all we know, he thinks you're lunch. Or worse - you're his new fuck toy."

Rodney swallowed hard. The big man did seem to be holding him really tight, and there was something un-nerving about that knowing way he kept grinning at him.

"Just how good a shot are you?" he squeaked.

"Pretty damn good. Now take a deep breath. Ready?"

"No!"

At that moment a shot rang out nearby and his captor swung around in the direction of the sound. Sheppard took advantage of the distraction to fire, and next thing Rodney knew he was lying on the ground with a dead weight on top of him. He wriggled out, and came face to face with his captor, his face now grinning in a ghoulish kind of death mask, a big hole in the middle of his forehead.

"Shit. That *is* pretty damn good," Rodney murmured, as Sheppard ran up.

"I told you. Now come on." Sheppard still looked furious as he grabbed Rodney's arm and dragged him back towards the gate. They came across Teyla and Ford a few seconds later, both of them running like crazy too.

"Was that you firing?" Sheppard asked Teyla. The Athosian woman nodded grimly as she ran. From far behind they heard the sounds of pursuit. Rodney glanced over his shoulder to see a rag-tag band of hostile natives pursuing them. Some of them were on horseback, and Rodney had no idea how they were going to outpace them. He stumbled and Sheppard's grip on his arm tightened, keeping him upright.

A horse outflanked them, and Rodney got a brief glimpse of a tall, savage-looking woman with a scarred cheek. She leaned forward, surveying the Atlanteans intently, as if searching for someone. Then another horse loomed into sight. It was being ridden by a warrior but carried, as a passenger, a small, ugly man, clad in a thick black cloak. He was a shrivelled skeleton of a man and he was clutching some kind of orb in his hand. He pointed at Rodney and Ford, and yelled something in a language Rodney didn't understand. The scarred woman nodded, and then rode her horse towards Ford. She was knocked from her steed by one of Teyla's batons before she even got close to the lieutenant. Rodney didn't have time to find out what happened to her because next thing he knew a big, grey stallion was bearing down on them, and a thin, hawk-nosed man was lunging straight at him, trying to grab him.

The man went down before he even got close, as John fired his P-90 into him, sending the man flying, blood spurting everywhere. John grabbed Rodney's arm again the minute he finished firing, and their pursuers drew back, nervous of the superior firepower the Atlanteans were packing.

They saw the gate in the distance and picked up their pace. Rodney had never been so grateful to throw himself through the wormhole in his life. He arrived back in Atlantis a few seconds later, breathing heavily. Only when they were safe did Sheppard let go of his arm. Rodney threw himself down on the floor in exhausted relief as he saw that Ford and Teyla had made it back safely as well.

"What the hell was that all about?" Sheppard demanded, turning towards Teyla. Rodney winced. It looked like the colonel's bad mood was still firmly in place. "Why did they attack us? We didn't do anything!"

"I believe they wanted our submissives," Teyla said.

"What?" Rodney screwed up his face in disbelief.

"One of the side effects of the wraith cullings is that the natural order of some worlds is disturbed," Teyla explained. "Usually it is the case that the number of submissives and dominants on a world is more or less even, but sometimes, after a culling, that is not the case. Then it is not unusual, on primitive worlds, for dominants to launch hunting parties, looking for any stray submissives who survived the culling and are without dominants."

"Oh please. How the hell could they know just by looking at us what our sexual preferences are?" Rodney snorted.

"They had a seer with them," Teyla told him earnestly.

"A what?" Rodney rolled his eyes. He hated this kind of mumbo jumbo.

"Some societies appoint a seer to gaze into a child's soul when he or she reaches puberty and determine what path they should take. It is usually a very peaceful and helpful ritual," she said, her eyes looking a little bit dreamy. "I went through such a ritual myself."

"You mean your people don't get to choose their own orientation?" Sheppard shook his head. "That doesn't sound like something I'd be comfortable with."

"One is not constrained by the seer's guidance," Teyla told him with a little smile. "But the seer is rarely wrong, and for those who are confused it can help them make their decision. On that planet though, I fear those with the seer gift are misusing it to identify people's preferences against their will - so that the dominants know who to target when they are out hunting."

Rodney remembered the wizened man in the black cloak, clutching his orb and directing the warriors on horseback, and he shuddered.

"They did seem to know exactly what they were looking for," Ford said. "A couple of them lunged at me and tried to drag me away but they weren't interested in Teyla or the colonel."

"But I didn't go anywhere near a ritual!" Rodney protested.

Teyla made an apologetic motion with her hand. "They were watching us from the minute we arrived, I fear. And some seers practice a very black form of their art. Some seers do not even need to see you - they are able to tell your orientation from a possession, or a lock of hair. In our case I believe all they did was observe - and that was enough to determine which of us they wished to target. If you recall, they very purposefully did not injure either Dr McKay or Lieutenant Ford. Their sole aim was to split them away from the dominants in the group, leaving them exposed and available for retrieval. Their arrows were not meant to kill, but to frighten us into splitting up, making our submissives easier targets."

Rodney remembered the way the man with the gold teeth had leered down on him, and he shuddered.

"So, that guy back there...he wanted to drag Rodney off and fuck him?" Sheppard growled. Rodney looked up at him, startled by the colonel's tone.

"He wished to make him his submissive, yes." Teyla said. "If they had succeeded they would have certainly killed you and I, Colonel, and taken Lieutenant Ford and Dr McKay. They must be very desperate people." She shook her head sadly.

"My god, I've never heard anything more sick in my life!" Sheppard snarled. "And you...." His gaze fell on Rodney, and he suddenly reached down, grabbed Rodney's arm in a vice-like grip, and hauled him off the floor. "You and I are going to practice how we get out of situations like that, and you are going to learn to follow orders when we're out in the field!"

"The guy had me at knifepoint! You were going to shoot him over the top of my head - forgive me for not being happy about that!" Rodney protested.

"You have to learn to trust me!" Sheppard hissed. The colonel's fingers were still digging into his arm, and he was looking at Rodney with a dark, intent gleam in his eyes. Rodney shivered - this was the same man who had thrown Bates across the room - he'd wanted to see him again, but now that he was face to face with him he wasn't so sure. He found himself going very still again as he gazed into Sheppard's wild eyes.

"Colonel," he whispered softly. And then, "John? You're hurting me."

The atmosphere was electric as Sheppard just stood there, studying his face intently, breathing hard, looking like he was about to explode and...do what? Rodney had no idea.

"John," he said again, trying to reach the colonel. The other man seemed lost in a world of his own, and, wherever it was, it clearly wasn't pretty. Slowly, very slowly, normality returned to his eyes, and then he suddenly released Rodney, and, without another word, he turned and stalked out of the room.

Rodney gazed after him, with horrified eyes, and Teyla came up behind him.

"Are you all right, Dr McKay?" she asked, resting her hand gently on Rodney's arm where Sheppard had been holding him.

"Me? I'm fine. Him on the other hand..." Rodney shook his head. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"I will see to Colonel Sheppard," Teyla said. "I think I recognise his distress. I expect he has gone to the practice room and will require a sparring partner. Perhaps you will debrief Lady Elizabeth?"

"Yes. Yes of course." Rodney watched her go, still shaking his head in bewilderment over Sheppard's bizarre behaviour.

Rodney took care of the debriefing, and then went back to his quarters to take a shower. He felt sweaty and dirty, and a little bit shaky too. The idea of subbing to the Neanderthal who had taken him hostage didn't appeal in the least - even Bates would have been a preferable option.

The warm water washed away the sweat and dirt, and Rodney closed his eyes and leaned under the spray. His mind travelled over the events of the day and he remembered lying under Sheppard's lean, hard body, and the way the colonel had grinned down at him. His cock hardened at the memory, and Rodney took it in his hand and sighed, delighted to have an erection. He had always been very highly sexed but ever since they'd arrived in Atlantis his libido seemed to have gone into hibernation, and it had been a long time since he'd enjoyed masturbating. Back when Bates had been tormenting him, his cock had remained resolutely flaccid whenever he'd tried to touch it, and eventually he'd given up. Now it seemed to be returning to life, and it felt damn good.

Rodney leaned against the shower wall and thought about Sheppard again, wondering what it would be like to feel the colonel's white teeth nipping his skin, or those hard, elegant fingers working his ass open. He imagined the colonel pinning him against a wall, those moist lips of his claiming his own, demanding that he surrender to him, making him his, and he gasped out loud as he came. He cleaned himself under the shower, but although he was glad to finally get his libido back, he was troubled by his fantasy. Sheppard was, after all, the ultimate in unobtainable.

Rodney had a very high opinion of himself in many areas, but he didn't fool himself that Sheppard would be interested in him as a potential sub. He'd already proved himself to be difficult over the past few months, and he just wasn't the kind of sub that a top like Sheppard would be interested in. Rodney knew exactly the kinds of subs that the colonel would be attracted to. He could see them in his mind's eye - gorgeous, lithe, compliant, and, well, *nice*. Sheppard would want one of those socially confident, friendly people - the kind who knew the right things to say at dinner parties and would support the colonel in his career. That was never going to be Rodney, and he knew it. Not that it mattered in any case, he told himself, because he'd made a resolution that he was never taking a military top again, and he was determined to stick to it.

It was nearly ten p.m. by the time Rodney got dressed and wandered along to the mess hall for something to eat. The mess hall was predictably deserted at that late hour, and there wasn't anything particularly appealing left to eat, either. Rodney didn't much care - he just wanted to fill his stomach and go to bed.

He grabbed some coffee, sandwiches and cake, and then went and sat down by himself. He wasn't intending to hang around - he was usually able to demolish even the most sizeable meal in under five minutes flat, and he was half way through his second sandwich when he heard a noise at the door, and turned. He froze as he saw Sheppard standing there. Sheppard froze too, and then, with a sigh, he crossed the room to where Rodney was eating.

"I'm nearly done," Rodney said, stuffing the rest of the sandwich hurriedly into his mouth. "If you, uh, wanted the place to yourself."

"I don't. I came here looking for you," Sheppard said. "Can I sit down?"

"Free country," Rodney muttered. "Well, city. Whatever." He shrugged, feeling stupid. Sheppard looked as if he'd just taken a shower as well, the ends of his hair still wet.

"I wanted to apologise," the colonel said, taking Rodney by surprise.

"Oh. Right. Okay." Rodney gazed at him uncertainly. "You were behaving really weirdly. Plus, I have a bruise on my arm from where you dragged me off the floor."

"I'm sorry." Sheppard looked it. In fact he looked terrible - and sort of grimly determined too.

"Good. Not that I didn't appreciate the heroic rescue and all that stuff but there is no way you should have spoken to me like that in front of everyone."

"I agree." Sheppard nodded.

"Good. Then we'll say no more about it - or that ludicrous suggestion that we do some kind of anti-hostage training because really, how often am I going to get taken prisoner by sex-starved dominants?" Rodney rolled his eyes.

"We're still going to do the training," Sheppard told him firmly.

"Oh you cannot be serious!" Rodney exploded. "There is no way we need to spend hours in the practise room, doing some boring drill, just on the offchance that one day...."

"It might save your life?" Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "That's exactly what we're going to do, Rodney."

Rodney glared at him. "I don't have time. I'm far too busy. The shooting lessons are bad enough but this!"

"I thought you liked the shooting lessons," Sheppard said, leaning back.

"Well, at least they're kind of cool, but that's it. No more. I'm a scientist, not a soldier!"

"I know, and you're a brilliant scientist, and extremely important to this expedition. I just want to keep you safe," Sheppard told him.

"Is that why you keep following me?" Rodney demanded. Sheppard frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You keep following me. Everywhere I go you're there! Breakfast, lunch, dinner, my lab, the infirmary - here, now!" Rodney got up, feeling aggrieved. "You can't keep an eye on me everywhere, Colonel, and it really irritates me that you were demanding I trust you a couple of hours ago but you clearly don't trust me!"

"You think..." Sheppard paused, looking completely stunned. "You think I'm following you around?"

"You are!" Rodney snapped.

"And you think that's because I don't trust you?" Sheppard asked, in a bitter tone of voice.

"Yes. Yes I do." Rodney stuck out his jaw obstinately. "Now, I know my track record since arriving on Atlantis hasn't exactly been brilliant, but I've had certain...pressures, and if you'll look at my record before this expedition, you'll see that I've always been a very reliable and exemplary member of the team, to say nothing of an extremely brilliant scientist, which, by the way, I'm glad you've noticed. So, perhaps you'd care to stop stalking me!"

"I'm not stalking you, Rodney," Sheppard said, shaking his head wryly. He hesitated, took a deep breath, and then continued, his hazel eyes watching Rodney intently. "I'm interested in you."

"What?" Rodney glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"My god, do I have to spell it out?" Sheppard ran a hand through his hair, leaving it looking even more artfully tousled than usual. "I'm interested in you, Rodney! You're a sub, I'm a top, neither of us is seeing anyone. Why does this surprise you?"

Rodney gazed at him for a moment, completely and utterly taken by surprise, and then he thought he'd figured it out. "Oh. Okay. I see. Very clever, Colonel. I upset your men, so you think you'll have a little fun with me. See how far you can take the joke. Maybe I'm supposed to wake up naked, handcuffed to one of the puddlejumpers or something, hmm? Well it's not going to work - the answer's no." He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and a familiar, sinking sense of betrayal in his gut. Damnit but he'd *liked* Sheppard, and he thought the man liked him. All that 'you're on the team' stuff...but that was the military for you - you just couldn't trust any of them. Rodney turned, abruptly, not wanting the colonel to see that he'd got to him, and he hurried quickly towards the door.

He was almost there when he heard Sheppard behind him, and then he was yanked around, and pushed bodily against the wall, and Sheppard was standing there, pressed against him. Rodney's treacherous body reacted the way it always did when Sheppard got hold of him and went completely still. Sheppard was breathing heavily, gazing at him from under those heavy-lidded hazel eyes.

"It's not a joke, damnit," he hissed. "Why the hell would you think that?"

"Because you could have anyone you like," Rodney replied bitterly. John gave a wry laugh at that.

"Yeah. Right. Anyone I like...you'd think, wouldn't you?"

"Oh come on. Look at you. Don't tell me you haven't worked your way around half the subs on this base already!" Rodney snapped.

"I haven't taken a sub in over a year," Sheppard told him.

Rodney's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you."

"Oh for god's sake - why would I lie to you? I haven't taken a sub in a year because nobody has interested me. You're right - I have had a lot of subs - I admit that, but not for the past year because I wanted to wait for someone special."

"And that's me? Oh please," Rodney snorted.

"Yes it is," Sheppard told him intently. "It is you, Rodney. I want you. I need you. I've got to have you, Rodney. It's driving me insane."

Rodney gazed at him, surprised by the raw need in Sheppard's voice. If this was an act it was a damn good one.

"You still don't believe me?" Sheppard asked.

"I don't know," Rodney murmured.

"Well then maybe this will convince you." Sheppard took hold of Rodney's face, and pressed his lips lightly, gently, against Rodney's mouth. He didn't dive in for a big kiss - it was a gossamer light touch, but it made every nerve-ending in Rodney's body fizz and zing into life. He sighed into the kiss, leaning back against the wall. This felt so good, so right - he almost dropped his guard. Then Sheppard drew back and gazed at him, his eyes dark. "Believe me now?" he asked, brushing gentle fingers down the side of Rodney's cheek. Rodney gazed back at him blindly, unsure what to believe.

"I...it doesn't matter whether I do or not," Rodney told him finally, struggling to compose himself. "Because...I'm not interested." It was a lie, he knew that even as he said it, but he just wanted an escape route out of this confusing situation.

A strange mix of emotions played across Sheppard's face - shock, despair and a weary kind of resignation. Rodney watched, fascinated by this rare glimpse of the man behind the mask.

"Would you be kind enough to tell me why?" Sheppard asked at last.

"I've had enough grief at the hands of you military boys. I made a vow not to sub to one again - I always seem to come out of it hurt, or humiliated, or both, and it's not worth it."

"That's it?" Sheppard looked incredulous. "Rodney, don't be an idiot. Don't throw away something that could be potentially so good just because of some stupid vow."

"It's not stupid." Rodney thrust out his jaw angrily. "I'm flattered by your interest, Colonel, but the answer is still no. Now, if you'll excuse me." He pushed past Sheppard and walked out into the hallway, only to find, a few seconds later, that his arm had been seized again. He turned, angrily.

"Aren't you listening to me?" he hissed. "What happened to 'when a sub says no he means no'? Hmm?"

Sheppard dropped his arm as if stung. "I wouldn't hassle you," he said. "I'd never do that. I just wanted to tell you...tomorrow's Saturday."

Rodney looked at him as if he'd gone crazy. "What the hell has that got to do with anything?"

"I thought...that is, I think I did this all wrong tonight. Tomorrow, if you want, maybe we could go to that beach I told you about, on the mainland? You could get to know me a bit better before blowing me off. I'd rather you turned me down because you don't like me than because of my profession." He made a self-deprecating face. Rodney stared at him blankly. "What do you say? Give me a chance? It's just one day - on the beach - that's all I'm asking."

"You mean...kind of like a date?" Rodney wrinkled up his forehead. Sheppard shrugged.

"Why not? Look, Rodney, I've laid all my cards on the table - I don't have any more left to play. I'm sorry you thought I was stalking you but I just wanted to spend some time with you. I've felt this strong attraction to you from the first second I met you. You don't have to give me an answer now, but I'll be waiting for you in the mess hall tomorrow morning at ten. If you don't show then I promise I'll respect your wishes, and I won't pursue you again. Okay?"

Rodney just stared at him. Sheppard nodded, too fast. "Okay then. I'll...well, I'll go now." And with that he turned and disappeared quickly up the hallway.

Rodney was barely aware of returning to his quarters - his feet took him there of their own accord and when he got there he sank down on the bed, completely astonished. Sheppard was interested in him? *Sheppard*? Not that he wasn't flattered but...Sheppard? Sheppard of all people? It wasn't exactly as if he was going out of his way to attract attention from tops these days, either.

Rodney got up and surveyed himself in the mirror, with a grimace. There was no way Sheppard could be interested in him - he looked crumpled and shabby, unshaven and unkempt...why would any top be interested in him looking like this? Rodney felt a little pang of shame - he'd always been fastidious about his personal appearance - he liked to be neat and tidy, and look professional and together.

"Damnit, McKay - what the hell happened to you?" he wondered out loud. He gazed at himself for a long time, not liking what he saw and wondering why Sheppard *had* somehow liked what he saw. What was Sheppard seeing exactly?

Rodney shook his head, and turned away from the mirror. He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't going to get excited about some top and then have his life stamped on as it had been so often before. He thought about that intent look in Sheppard's eyes, and the way his lips had felt pressed lightly against his own. He'd wanted more. His entire body had ached with wanting. He'd wanted to pull Sheppard close, and kiss him properly. He wanted to be claimed, and loved, and topped by that handsome, intriguing man but...it wasn't worth it. It wouldn't work, and it would be even worse when it came to an end, as it inevitably would. They'd be stuck out here in the Pegasus Galaxy, in this small city, unable to escape each other. No, it was better not to get involved. Sheppard was military after all, and Rodney hadn't had any good experiences with military tops. Better to let this drop, pretend it never happened.

Rodney glanced back at the mirror, panic-stricken, as a thought suddenly occurred to him. Supposing this was the one good thing that was ever going to happen to him in his entire life, and he turned it down? Damnit, if he could only know how it was going to turn out before committing himself to the possible heartache of it all.

How the hell was he supposed to decide what to do? Everything had been so difficult lately, and he hadn't made the best choices, he knew that. What was the best choice now? Rodney gazed at himself glumly. Take a chance and hope for the best, or play it safe? Rodney buried his face in his hands and groaned. He honestly had no idea what to do.

~*~

Next: Coming Home 3