FIC: The Pack (Stargate: Atlantis AU) 10/10

[ashinae]

The Pack: A Stargate: Atlantis AU - Chapter 10
by ashinae and jay_linden
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10



John looked out over the moonlit water. He'd forgotten his shoes, but the cold never really bothered him all that much. Even in Antarctica.

Five years ago.

Weird.

He closed his eyes a moment and took in a deep breath, then let it out again. Rodney smelled different now. Still his Rodney. Just different.

Rodney was tucked in close to John, and the cold wasn't bothering him either. Of course, John had still insisted he wear a coat, which was part of it. But still--the chill in the air, the wind... just wasn't an issue.

"You're quiet, Rodney. Solving all of the galaxy's problems?" John teased. "One step at a time. You're just a puppy."

"I am not a puppy--don't you start with me," Rodney said, narrowing his eyes playfully and shaking a finger at John. "No... not the galaxy, this time. Either of them. I was thinking about me, funnily enough."

John gasped. "I may die of shock."

"You should be nicer to me... I have a fighting chance of being able to beat you up now, you know," Rodney said.

John laughed. "Uh huh. Of course you do."

Rodney kicked at John's foot, then settled back again into 'think' mode.

Another laugh. He turned a little to Rodney, put an arm around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple. Then let him go back to thinking. John took the time to think about wicked things to do to Rodney when they got back to their quarters, whenever Rodney was ready.

Rodney'd closed his eyes and was taking deep breaths when he turned his head to the side, sniffed once, and made a face. "Stop that, it's distracting. Wait... hang on," he said, looking at John. "You're turned on."

John looked at him, then gave a slow, naughty grin. "I'm making plans," he said.

He rolled his eyes and snorted. "Of course you are. Pervert. But how did I..." he brought his hand up to his nose. "Oh. Oh. I smelled it. I smelled you. I did, didn't I?"

John nodded. "Yeah. You did."

"Huh," Rodney said. "Well. Now, that's gonna be problematic isn't it?" he said, frowning. "Now whenever Ronon's skulking around Jennifer and getting that look on his face, I'm going to know it's more than a look. I'm going to know what Teyla and Lorne have been doing. Oh God, I'm going to know every time some village hussy in a push up blouse is getting all..." he waved his hands around wildly, "for you. This is just all a lot more complicated than I'd figured on," he said.

"Of course it is. You're a werewolf now."

"I know... I'm just... you know," Rodney said. "Thinking."

"Right. Thinking." John trailed his fingertips up Rodney's back, then into his hair. "Me too." About things he could do to Rodney's body with his tongue.

"In a very 18A kind of way, I'm sure," Rodney said, rolling his eyes, even as he settled in a little closer. "So... I suppose that's good to know. I mean, you're over a century old, and sex hasn't gotten boring for you yet."

"No," John said, not yet. "Certainly not with you."

"Good. That's good," Rodney said, smiling. "Because... wow. I mean, do you ever think about it? You're going to live until something kills you. I'm going to live until something kills me."

"I don't think about it much anymore," John admitted. "You do get used to it after a while. But it's hard at first. Of course it's hard at first."

"Yeah," Rodney said, back to looking out at the ocean. "Which, of course, would be where the 'a lot to think about' comes in."

"Yeah, I guess it would. We never really discussed this. I tried, but you stopped me every time."

"Yeah," Rodney said, wincing a bit. "Sorry about that."

"But here we are now. Do you... do you regret it, Rodney?"

"That's what I've been thinking about," Rodney said. "I'm doing all the thinking now that I should have done, you know. Before I ended up in a dark, mildewey cave, with an organism in my head," he said dryly. "But I don't. I don't regret it, I mean." He reached for John's hand. "When you brought it up before--tried to--I was afraid."

"I know you were," John said. "That's why I didn't push." He squeezed Rodney's hand. "And now here we are. Stuck with each other."

"Yes we are. I'm sure it's not going to surprise you when I say that I've always been a bit of a hypochondriac," Rodney said, dry as dust. "I was afraid of death, for a long time. Then, I realised that there was something worse than death, and that was dying. But right then, in that cave... I realised there was something worse than dying. And it was worth taking the risk. You were worth it... and so was I."

John smiled. He leaned against Rodney's side. "I'm glad we did," he said. "I'm absolutely terrified of our trip home, though, I've got to admit it. I tried marriage once, Rodney. It didn't work out so well."

Rodney gave John a look, and rolled his eyes. "Honestly. You're terrified of Canada. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Besides, we're already mated for life... how much more scary can marriage be?"

"Lots. Trust me."

"You're doing it," Rodney said. "I'm more afraid of my sister than I am of your marriage-phobia. You're going to be stuck with me in Canada too, as well as the Pegasus Galaxy, and the world of werewolves, Lieutenant-Colonel Poodle-face. Deal with it."

***

Jennifer and Ronon broke up. He'd stormed away after some argument or other. John wondered what it was they argued about; sometimes suspected it had something to do with werewolves.

Then Jennifer was kidnapped off-world. John had purposefully sent Ronon off-world as a bodyguard. He grumbled and muttered about it the entire time. But he saved her life. They became inseparable after. John didn't know whether or not Jennifer was Ronon's mate or just his lover, but he did decide to be a little bit smug about playing matchmaker.

Rodney, of course, pointed out that it really wasn't anything he'd done, since it wasn't as though John had orchestrated the kidnapping. John didn't let that get in the way of his mood.

The self-congratulations didn't last long. Suddenly it occurred to him that his people got kidnapped a lot.

He disapproved of that, but wasn't sure who to bite, exactly.

***

The very first crisis during a full moon after Rodney's metamorphosis, he complained loudly, at length, and to anyone who would listen, that the necessity of changing into a wolf that one night of the lunar cycle was a 'serious design flaw' for the wolves.

John laughed for about ten minutes.

In his defence, he'd been lying on his back in bed at the time. Everyone knows how hard it is to stop laughing when one is lying down.

The look on Rodney's face didn't make it any easier for John to stop laughing. Rodney insisted it was a serious design flaw. He couldn't understand why modern science and magic hadn't been able to develop something that would prevent that one night's call of the moon.

He was not in any way mollified by the way John shrugged and said that it was magic in its own right, and that was why there were always, always, ordinary humans involved in the military and security forces.

Rodney decided that the next time Carson Beckett returned to Atlantis, he was going to sit him down and together, science and voodoo would figure out how to fix it.

John wished him luck. Rodney hit him with a pillow.

***

It didn't feel like all that long ago that they got rid of the Replicators.

(Probably because it technically wasn't.)

So it really didn't seem fair that the Wraith were, of course, still out there, and now there was a faction of rogue, aggressive Asgard. John went so far as to call them 'feral'.

He'd been separated from Rodney again. He didn't like being separated from Rodney.

John needed to qualify that thought, he decided, as he pushed Rodney down onto the bed. Being separated from Rodney for a while wasn't all that bad, because when they were reunited, the sex was always really hot. It was when they were separated and there was mortal peril.

No, wait, he thought, as he captured Rodney's mouth in a demanding kiss. The sex was even better after that.

John was still bossy. That part hadn't changed with Rodney becoming a wolf. And they still argued, which neither of them would admit they had kind of always enjoyed, and John still got demanding and pushed Rodney into walls when he was stressed out, or impatient, or when Rodney took too long working on things that could have waited until later.

Sometimes, Rodney did that last one on purpose, just because.

Rodney had done that tonight. John had paced. He'd growled at Rodney. He'd stood behind him and made impatient-wolf noises. And when Rodney finally, finally, closed his laptop and spun the chair around to look up at John with that 'yes, do you need something?' expression on his face, John had dragged him up and kissed him until they were both breathless. All but tore them out of their clothes. Manhandled Rodney across the room.

Got them in their current position.

He broke the kiss and looked down at Rodney. "You are impossible," he declared.

"Mmm... and you like me that way," Rodney said, breathlessly smug. "You think it's hot."

John did. He absolutely did. "It makes me crazy," he said with a growl, ducking his head to suck at Rodney's shoulder.

The marks didn't last nearly as long anymore. That just meant John could do it more often, though. Rodney always complained, of course, especially if one lasted long enough in a place that was visible enough to get him teased by Ronon or Teyla or Lorne. But John was pretty sure Rodney liked it. That he was proud--he was the only one who could make John Sheppard lose control the way he could.

John lifted his head and looked down at Rodney for a long, long moment. "Want you," he said, voice rough. Hoarse. He was desperately hard and rubbed himself against Rodney's thigh.

Which was one guaranteed way to get Rodney to shut up--or at least to stop bitching.

Because Rodney was never, ever quiet.

"Want you, Rodney," John said. "Want you now." He thrust against Rodney's thigh again.

Rodney groaned and pushed back, squirming under John's body. Even now that he was a werewolf, John could still keep him pinned. "So come on--come on," he gasped.

That was all the invitation John needed. He slicked his cock, lifted Rodney's hips, and thrust inside him in moments. He let out a deeply pleased groan as he let his head fall back. Rodney. His. Always his.

Rodney hands clutched at John's shoulders, fingers digging in hard. John wasn't the only one who sometimes left marks behind. Rodney moaned, wrapped around John, as close as he possibly could get.

John slipped one hand under Rodney's head, the other still holding his hip. He moaned as Rodney started to rock with him. Slow. Almost lazy. They took their time. Despite the heat in the way John had kissed Rodney, he wasn't in any hurry now. They had all night.

Even when John kissed him, Rodney still made noise. He shuddered beneath him, but he let John set the pace this time, without badgering or rushing him.

John needed this. Needed Rodney more than--

It scared him to think about it. Even after everything, even after changing him, it terrified John to think about how much he needed Rodney.

He moaned into Rodney's mouth. They kept moving and the pleasure of it coursed through him. Kept him moving. Kept him going for as long as he could.

He growled. Low and deep. "Rodney."

Rodney stared up at him, lips parted. He whined, wordless and desperate.

John pushed a hand between their bodies. "Please, Rodney."

He gasped loudly, shoved up into the press of John's hand once, and that did it. Rodney's back arched up off the bed as he came, gasping out John's name.

John followed him over a moment later. He barely made a sound as he shuddered through his orgasm, then fell still. Collapsed atop Rodney. Tried to find his equilibrium again.

Rodney grunted as John's weight settled in against him. Not that he minded. Being able to let John stay collapsed on him all caveman-style was one of the perks.

Soon enough, though, John moved. Settled at Rodney's side, face against his neck a moment. "Mine?"

"Mmm. Yours," Rodney mumbled. "Bossy."

John scraped his teeth over Rodney's neck. "You like it."

Rodney made a sound of protest and swatted at John half-heartedly.

John laughed. "You do."

"Stop being smug--that's my job."

"Yes, Rodney. Anything you say."

Rodney swatted at him again. "Fucking wolves," he muttered.

***

There was a picture, they think taken by Sam Carter, from John and Rodney's wedding that looked like this:

It was three am, according to the timestamp on the photo. The picture was taken from behind the table with the cake. John had his tuxedo jacket off; Rodney still wore his, but his bowtie had been abandoned somewhere. It was probably in Madison's hair. John had his head tilted back and his hand wrapped around Rodney's elbow as Rodney's arm stretched to his face. There was cake all over Rodney's face, right up over his eye. Carson, Teyla, Lorne, and Ronon could be seen just off to the side, laughing. They could see, though it wasn't obvious obvious from the angle the picture was taken from, that Rodney was smearing cake in turn all over John's face.

***

Rodney was proud of himself. So very proud, so very smug--and John would never say it out loud, but dammit all, it suited Rodney. His Rodney. He got the Alpha wolf of Atlantis to go to Canada and get married. He figured that he deserved bragging rights for it.

Of course, the next time Rodney called John 'Mr Dr Rodney McKay', he was going to get bit.

***

Woolsey greeted John and Rodney when they returned on the Daedalus from their honeymoon after the Big Canadian Gay Werewolf Wedding.

(John was never going to stop calling it that. Probably in vengeance for the kilt. He just didn't have the knees to pull it off.)

That evening, there was another reception on Atlantis; one great big party for all the people who hadn't been able to attend the actual Earth-bound wedding. When everyone else had cleared out, leaving John and Rodney with Teyla, Lorne, Ronon, Jennifer, Carson, and Woolsey, they were told that, Michael struck Atlantis directly. Just two days after Teyla, Lorne, Ronon, and Carson had returned on the Daedalus.

John and Rodney had still been on their honeymoon. Why would they take a honeymoon?

Rodney insisted they deserved those times. They deserved to spend time without the weight of the galaxy on their shoulders. John deserved to spend time with his mate, just being a couple of guys enjoying a nice tropical beach. ("Were we supposed to smell him from another galaxy?" Rodney had demanded.)

John was Alpha. He was supposed to protect his home. He was supposed to keep everyone safe. ("John, sometimes you can let other people protect your family," Teyla told him, gently as she could.)

Deep down, he knew that his various complexes did no one any good. That his willingness to sacrifice himself, to run all the ridiculous suicide missions, were definitely signs that maybe he had things he needed to work out. ("You have fought so hard to keep Dr McKay alive--don't you think he deserves for you to have the same respect for your own life?" Woolsey had asked.)

Michael's hybrids had found Lorne after they had taken Teyla and Torren hostage. John had forgotten, somehow, that Michael had developed almost as intense an interest in Lorne as he had in Teyla; after all, Lorne was pretty instrumental in Torren being in the galaxy in the first place. The self-destruct claxons going off, Michael not only threatened their home--but threatened Lorne's life to bring Teyla out of hiding.

But there was no way it was going to be that easy. ("You should know by now that I'm tougher than I look," Lorne had said, with a quirk of a grin.)

If John hadn't realised the wisdom in his choice of second, he certainly did now.

Teyla and Lorne fought Michael together; Lorne as a wolf, of course. It was personal. Michael threatened everything they loved--and he'd never do it again. When he fell, Lorne didn't change immediately back into a human. He sat on his haunches at Teyla's side, tilted his head back, and howled.

Teyla and Lorne were a force to be reckoned with. Within hours, word of Michael's demise and just how it had come about spread through the city like wildfire. Lorne was a little uncomfortable by all the attention, all the admiration, but John figured he deserved a moment to shine in the spotlight.

Sometime in the intervening time they'd been gone, Ronon and Jennifer had apparently broken up and reconciled again. John suspected that their relationship would carry on like that. He hoped they'd work it out, but John didn't believe that Jennifer would ever be willing to make the metamorphosis.

Not like Teyla. She'd make a strong wolf. John was confident--had always been confident--that she would survive the change.

John spent a few moments--maybe more than a few--desperately wishing Elizabeth was there.

***

"--and that's why--Rodney?" John stopped and turned, puzzled, trying to locate Rodney.

Teyla and Ronon stopped, too. The three of them quickly spotted Rodney, as he had only fallen a few yards behind. He was very still, head tilted up and back as he stared into the leaves a tree above his head.

"Rodney?" said John.

"Bird!" Rodney exclaimed. The bird heard him and quickly flew away.

As John watched on in amusement, Rodney gave himself a shake. He stomped over to them, then pointed an accusatory finger at Ronon. "He never went through this!"

Ronon laughed, clapped Rodney hard on the shoulder, and said, "That's because I was always a predator, McKay."

Rodney didn't like this answer. He looked at John. Rather, he glared at John.

John shrugged. "It's true. I went through the same thing for about a year after I changed."

"A year?" Rodney echoed. The decibel level went up a few notches. "A year? Unacceptable! Do you have any idea how distracting this is? Every time a rabbit or a squirrel scampers by, all I can think is, 'Look, a snack'!"

John grinned brightly. "They are snacks."

Rodney let out a noise of disgust and stomped off ahead of them. "The first time I find myself unable to resist eating a small, furry, defenceless animal, you're gonna be the one to hear all about it, Colonel," he called back.

***

You torture yourself every day, John.

***

Where in the hell had Kolya and his men found chains and manacles that could hold a wolf? This time at least they didn't have that damned sedative--or a Wraith. John looked up at Kolya. "I killed you. I ripped you open with my own teeth. You're dead."

"Did you?" Kolya said, not even bothering to look at John. "Apparently you were mistaken."

"I won't be this time." John struggled against his bonds. "This time I'll make sure." A growl started low in his throat. He struggled harder.

He couldn't break free.

"I'd encourage you not to waste your strength, but to be honest, I don't particularly care if you do," Kolya said.

John growled louder. He was sure he could get out of his bonds if he changed into a wolf.

Why couldn't he change?

"It's a fascinating metal, isn't it?" Kolya said. "You see, the problem with the sedative that keeps you from changing is that we have to keep injecting it, on a constant basis. We have to get close enough to do it, and that's proven... difficult, on a number of occasions. We've been able to infuse this metal with the same compound that's used to make up the sedatives. Constant contact, constant level of the drug. No slipping your bonds," he finished.

John growled. "How did you get here?"

"The same way as we always have, Colonel Sheppard," Kolya said, finally turning to focus in on John. "You put your faith in the wrong people. People who can be bought, or... convinced."

"I'm going to eat you," John said, savagely, "and nobody's going to be able to stop me."

Kolya looked at John, and smiled.

Right before he backhanded him across the face.

John spat blood into the dirt.

Blood.

He still tasted it. He wasn't healing the way he should.

Kolya stood in front of him, taking the gloves he was wearing off to check his hands for damage. "You know... you are quite possibly the most stubborn man I have ever known."

"I'm a wolf."

He slid his glove back on and punched John again. "No... it's more than that. What you can tolerate, what you can put up with... it's beyond reckoning. I'll admit, I'm impressed, John. What's your secret?" Another punch, splitting his lip open.

More blood. John was bleeding. "I'm married to Rodney McKay," he snapped. "You'd be amazed what someone could put up with after that."

Kolya laughed. Apparently that was very funny. "Well... now so much makes sense," he said, driving his knee into John's solar plexus. "I don't believe you were married the last time I saw you. Congratulations, John."

John coughed, bent nearly double. He lifted his head a moment later. "You owe me a wedding present," he gasped out.

"You know... you're right," Kolya said, leaning in closer, but just out of John's reach. "How about McKay's head on a stick?"

John snarled and tried to lunge forward, teeth snapping on air. "If you touch him, if you hurt him, I will hunt you down and destroy you, I swear, I will dedicate my life to ending yours."

The restraints held, and John didn't even come close to reaching Kolya. "I think that you're dramatically exaggerating the amount of time that you're going to have left alive to be able to accomplish that goal," he informed John, before he straightened up again.

John glared up at him. "What are you doing here, Kolya? What do you want this time?" he demanded.

"I want you dead, John," Kolya said bluntly. "But before I do that... I'm going to take away everything, and everyone you love, while--as usual--you fail to protect them."

"No," John said, "no--you can't reach the city. You can't touch them."

"I have your ship," Kolya said, gesturing in the direction of the Puddle Jumper. "And I have you."

"You think I'd ever, ever take you to the city?"

Kolya nodded to one of his soldiers, and was given a knife. "I think I don't need your consent to make it happen."

John hadn't wanted to, but he screamed.

***

You torture yourself every day, John.

He sat on the floor against the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, elbows on them and his head in his hands. "And I just couldn't change into a wolf. The pain of was so real."

Rodney was quiet for a few moments, and then he gently tugged John's hands down, first one, then the other. "It didn't happen," he murmured. "He didn't torture you. He didn't cut off your hand."

"It felt like he did."

"I know," Rodney said, rubbing at John's hands. "So, I'll keep telling you, or reminding you, until it doesn't feel quite so real any more."

"It felt real. Smelled real. I didn't want Woolsey to know how much it--" John lifted looked at Rodney. "He threatened you."

"Of course he did," Rodney said, jaw tightening a bit. "Threatening me--or someone threatening you--is a pretty predictable response from our enemies."

John swallowed. "I know, but. He--it--"

Said something to John. Something that was true. Something that hit home and hit home hard.

You torture yourself every day, John.

Rodney frowned. "John?" he said quietly. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. C'mere."

Rodney shook his head right back. "Uh uh. Who do you think you married--out with it," he demanded.

"It's nothing, Rodney."

"Yeah, I can see how nothing it is." Rodney could wait him out.

John tried to glare. It came off a bit more as a pout.

Rodney leaned in and bit his pouting lip. "Who's more stubborn?" he reminded John. "Come on."

John tilted his head back again. He stared up at the ceiling. "I'm tired."

Rodney sighed. "You don't have to keep it all locked up in here, you know that?" he said, placing his hand square against John's chest. And yes, obviously, he was being metaphorical, which wasn't his strong point, but it worked with John. "Even if it's not me, you've got people you can talk to. People who will listen. Okay?"

"I know, Rodney." John closed his eyes. "I can't right now."

"Okay," Rodney repeated. "It's okay," he said. "John? Look at me."

John didn't move. He clenched his hands into fists.

He reached for John's hands again, holding on tightly. "It didn't happen," he murmured. "It wasn't real."

John decided, once upon a time, that he wasn't going to let anyone use his family against him ever again. And yet it happened even in his own imagination. They were a weakness. There was a reason that he'd only ever been married once. Seldom took lovers. Never let anyone get close. He cared too damn much and he could never save them. Couldn't keep them safe.

It didn't matter that Kolya hadn't been real. The pain was. He knew the pain was real.

He'd never held any illusions that there weren't things out there that could hurt wolves. Even before he'd found out about the Stargate--about Goa'uld and Jaffa and Ori and Asgard and everything else--he knew that there were creatures who lurked in the shadowy places of the world that could harm a wolf.

Hell, a good friend of his had crossed just the wrong witch once. That was all it took. Once.

One time, and it could all be over. He might never see any of them ever again.

He got suddenly to his feet. Paced angrily to the door, and turned and looked at Rodney.

Rodney was sitting there, watching him. Unafraid, despite John's anger. "John," he said, very softly.

"No," John said, suddenly.

Mistake. All of it. Coming here. Falling in love. Finding a mate. Friends. Family. Pack.

"John," Rodney said again, more firmly this time. "Look at me."

John turned. Looked at Rodney and didn't say a word.

"He's dead," Rodney said. "Kolya's dead, and you're letting him--all of them--win."

John leaned against the wall. He stared at Rodney for a long, long moment. Then sank down to the floor again.

Rodney crossed the room and settled on the floor in front of John. "The way they get to you--the way they always get to you. It's by threatening the people you love," he said softly. "You even do it to yourself now. It's become instinct. And that's when you pull back. That's when you won't look at me, why every truth has to be pried out of you. Because the closer we get to you, the closer you get to us. And the more leverage they have."

John's gaze was haunted. Rodney was right; Rodney knew him too damn well. "It should never have happened," he said. "Any of it."

Rodney leaned in closer, his expression unreadable. "Tough," he said, right before he up and slapped John upside the head.

It hurt a little more now when Rodney hit him. Got his attention; made him angry. John growled, grabbed Rodney's wrist, and took him to the floor. Instinct. He didn't apologise. Alphas don't apologise.

Rodney didn't apologise. He rarely did, and he wasn't sorry, anyway. "Tough," he repeated. "That's life, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard. Life means pain, and it means loss, and it means being afraid that the people you love are going to die. It means that sometimes they do. I love you, even when you're being a completely stubborn ass, and you love me even when I'm insufferable and right. That's how it works. You still think it shouldn't have happened? That we'd be better off if you hadn't gotten us all 'invested' in you, is that it? Well, you're an idiot."

"You should have been a trauma counsellor, McKay."

"I know, sometimes I really think I missed my calling," Rodney deadpanned. "You are being an idiot. It's well intentioned, but that doesn't make you any less an idiot. What did your brain tell you when it was being Kolya that's got you flipping out like this? No, I'm sorry--I was willing to go with the 'not ready to talk about it right now' thing, but we're past that now."

"I'm not flipping out," John protested.

Rodney hit him again.

"Stop it!" John shouted.

And Rodney hit him again. It wasn't his usual tactic, but it kept John from shutting down. "See? This? This is real. You're back in the real world, where I bother you until you stop being an idiot and tell me what's going on. You are not getting rid of me," he said. It wasn't a question; it was a pure and simple, absolute fact. "I plan to be around and bothering you for a very, very long time. You are legally bound to me by the constraints of two cultures, and in case you forgot? I even made you a Canadian when you weren't looking. Now shut up with what you're saying and say what you're not saying."

"I--you--I don't remember applying for Canadian citizenship."

"Happy birthday."

"Dammit, Rodney." John drew his knees up again, leaned his head against the wall, and fell quiet.

"It'll be dual--relax," Rodney said, settling down with John again. Although that wasn't what John was fussing about, obviously.

John leaned against him. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Okay. Apology accepted," Rodney said. "Still not an answer."

"God you're stubborn."

"Information already collated. What else've you got?"

"I don't--can we leave it?"

Rodney shook his head. "Nope. I'm your trauma counsellor," he reminded him.

"Fuck." John banged his head back against the wall. "I'm torturing myself."

"Well, it wouldn't be so bad if you'd just say it!" Rodney said, trying not to sound exasperated.

"I did!"

"You..." Rodney frowned, looking confused. "Oh. Oh," he murmured. "You're... oh. Was he--it--right?"

"It was my own damn brain, Rodney."

"Well, yes, but it's confusing," Rodney said, frowning. "Was it true?"

"Of course it was."

Rodney reached out again, holding John's hands. "Why?" he said softly.

"Can we please stop talking?"

Rodney shook his head. "No... no, John. I'm not making you do this again. We're here now. Talk to me now." Uncharacteristically for Rodney, his voice was soft, almost gentle.

John looked at him. "I'm not good at talking."

"Yes, one of the things that you and Ronon and dare I say, Lorne, have in common, besides an unhealthy enjoyment of exercise. Please, try."

"What should I say? I've been around long enough to collect a lot of guilt."

"Yes you have," Rodney agreed. "And you hang onto it more than most people, more than most wolves, and more than most Alphas."

"How many Alphas have you met?" John asked.

Now here, Rodney actually had a bit of an advantage. "Generals Hammond and O'Neill," he said smugly.

"Yeah, well, those old wolves... they're..." John didn't know what to say.

"Responsible for the deaths of a lot of people," Rodney said. "And when General Hammond retired--when he finally decided to stop--it was to spend more time with the people he loved. Not less. A lot of people are dead because of you, John. A lot. And because of me," he added. "But we've saved people too. We've made a difference. Dare I say, we've brought hope, to be ridiculously sappy."

And if John didn't give a damn, it wouldn't hurt nearly as much. He knew that. Maybe it's what made him human--and wolf. "Thanks, Rodney," he said. "I'm better now."

Rodney gave him a look. "Do not make me start hitting you again," he said. "One of these times, I might actually hurt you, and you'll feel pretty stupid."

"You've given me a lot to think about," John said. "Thank you for that. But right now--I don't know what else you want me to say."

"You still, after all of this, haven't told me why you torture yourself. Do you know that?" Rodney said.

John suddenly sprang to his feet. "Hey, look, a bed! I think that might be where I sleep." He walked past it and into the bathroom.

"Hey--hey!" Rodney protested. He quickly followed John.

John already had his shirt off and toothbrush in his mouth.

"You're impossible," Rodney said. "You're absolutely impossible. And stubborn. I'm starting to think that you're more stubborn than I am, but no, no no, I am not giving up that particular title."

John spat toothpaste. "I'm done, Rodney. I'm not talking about it anymore."

Rodney glared at him a few moments, and then--out of nowhere--he smiled. A smug, 'aren't I so very clever' Rodney McKay smile. And he turned and walked out of the bathroom.

John let out a sigh of relief. He left his clothes in a pile on the floor--everything needed to be washed anyway--and wandered back out to their room to crawl into bed.

Bed. Where he slept. Where Rodney sat, square in the middle, blocking John off from sitting down. "I'm being extremely annoying," Rodney said. "I'm pushing you to talk about something that you don't want to talk about--at all. And if I was any other wolf, I'd have gotten my ass kicked by now."

John gave a growl of annoyance. "I could still kick your ass."

Rodney smiled. "I know," he said. "You could. And you might. And you might pin me up against the wall, and growl at me, and we might yell until we're both hoarse." He leaned forward. "But what you're not going to do--what you're never going to do--is turn around, and walk out that door. Even if it means that I might die someday, or you might lose me. Because before, when you said it never should have happened? You might be right about that part," he admitted. "But every day--every single day, the same every single day that you torture yourself--you're grateful that it did."

John stared at him for a long, long moment then sat down on the bed with Rodney. "I'm sorry. For... being difficult."

"You are difficult," Rodney said. "Very difficult. But you know what?" he said, bumping John's shoulder. "I'm not walking out that door either."

"Well. Okay, then." John stifled a yawn.

"So... you look like you're up for some really high intensity shenanigans," Rodney said, rubbing his hands together. "Maybe a run around Atlantis? First one to get to the furthest pier wins a jell-o cup?"

John flopped over onto his side, even as he turned into a wolf and hid his nose under his tail.

"Oh, now that is just cheating!"

***

Life went on, as life did, in the Pegasus Galaxy.

John and Rodney argued; laughed; fucked; made love; mourned; celebrated. Saved lives. Defeated Wraith. Howled at the moon. Ran by the pier.

Teyla and Lorne watched Torren get bigger and bigger by the day. He'd be off to Pegasus College in no time.

Ronon and Jennifer broke up weekly. At this point, John thought it was all for show and for the make-up sex.

(He tried it with Rodney, but Rodney wouldn't play.)

And Woolsey? Well, Woolsey was theirs now, too. Not that John would ever, ever tell him that.

Life went on, as it did, and for once? For once in five years, nothing monumental happened--until it did. John really knew he shouldn't have become comfortable with anything.

When the Ancients took Atlantis from them, John and Rodney were separated; Rodney at Area 51, John at the SGC. And looking out at the Golden Gate Bridge, John couldn't help be worried that they'd be separated again. That was the American military for you.

Wolves were warriors. They were survivors. They'd learned that to survive, they had to adapt. Change. Grow. There were traditions--many of which John tended to ignore--that they held on to and defended fiercely. John had been around long enough to know just how quickly things could change in a century.

But wolves had been around longer, so much longer. Perhaps since the beginning, hidden, hiding, alongside the witches and the fae. Perhaps a gift--one last gift--from the Ancients, to protect them from whatever horror came to Earth. Strong enough to face Jaffa in land battles; strong enough to stare down the seemingly endless armies of the Ori.

But not strong enough to keep a same-sex mated pair together in the face of humanity. Damn its scruples, its puritanical ideals, its black-and-white philosophies. John knew they weren't all like that, deep down, the same way not all werewolves or witches were alike. But it was staring down the past and the possibilities of the future that made John wonder why they just didn't take complete control.

Probably because in the grand scheme of things, they were outnumbered.

***

Night had fallen.

John was out on a balcony, leaning against the railing and looking up at the night sky. Familiar, yet suddenly alien. His skin itched, but it wasn't the call of the moon.

Ronon had called Atlantis itself 'home'. Of course it was home; it was where they all belonged. But would they be allowed to stay? Would they be allowed to carry on with the lives they'd known?

They'd come so far.

He'd found a purpose, a home, a family, a pack. Earth was saved, but the rest of John's life felt like it was in shambles.

Earth was saved, but it wasn't home.

He closed his eyes. Rodney. He opened them again but didn't turn; he didn't even move, not when he felt the steady, comforting heat of Rodney's body right up against his own. Rodney'd been the one to call to John. He was fire and he was passion and he stood up to John in ways that no one else really would. He stood up to the soldier and the wolf. To his own alpha.

John figured they'd come this far. Time would tell. He turned his head and pressed his face against Rodney's neck, growled at him, bit playfully.

No matter where they were, John needed Rodney, with his crooked smile and his hands and his eyes. Rodney, who was brilliant and brave and arrogant and anxious.

John slipped his arm around Rodney's back and tucked him in nice and close, biting, growling, drinking in the heat of Rodney's body. They'd come so far. All the way back to Earth, with their wonderful, wondrous, city. Their home.

Still: Pegasus called, loud as the moon.


The End

Comments

[keiramarcos]

Hello, my new favorite thing on the Internet!

This was awesome and really thought provoking and it turned brilliantly in the really great ways.

Thank you for all of your hard work on it :-)

[ashinae.livejournal.com]

Thank you, thank you, for the comment. We worked our butts off on this, and I sure hope it shows. I'm so pleased you enjoyed it!