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“I sometimes wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”
Sheppard froze. He was leaning against the bars of the cell they were trapped in, arms loosely pushed through the slats, the top of his head pressed against the metal framing. At McKay’s words, he slowly turned around to look at him.
“What?”
McKay was where he’d been since they dragged him back in this morning, sitting against the back wall of the stone cell, legs loose before him, arms pressed to his stomach. He looked terrible – pale, with blood on his lips, his eyes bloodshot.
“Don’t get me wrong,” McKay said, his voice a pitiful ghost of its usual self. “I am not interested in sex or anything.” He gave a weak shrug, a pathetic smile touching the corners of his mouth. “It’s not like that. But I figured out a long time ago, I mean, a long time ago, that you were the person I was most afraid to lose. That, if you died, I would….” He sighed, but the strange smile remained. “I think it would break me. I’d be devastated, really, like, more than I felt when my father died. Maybe even more than when we lost Carson. And Elizabeth. Just…you’re…I feel like you belong to me somehow.”
Sheppard’s eyebrows lifted. “Belong to you,” he repeated sarcastically.
“Yeah.” McKay sniffed then, his eyes dreamy as he met John’s. “Or are a part of me, I suppose. So, I wondered what it’d be like. It’s not so weird, is it?”
“Kinda.” John turned around, uncomfortable with the topic.
Fact is, he’d been uncomfortable with all McKay’s topics since he’d woken up. After assuring John that he was “still here” in response to John’s shouted demands of “are you with me?” (he honestly wasn’t sure McKay was going to wake up after they’d dragged him back in), McKay had been rambling on about the most bizarre things. He’d started by talking about how he’d wished he’d spent more time with Teyla. Learned from her. How he’d “missed a great opportunity” by not being a better friend.
“You’re a great friend,” John had protested. McKay huffed a wet laugh. John knew it shouldn’t sound that wet.
“You know I’m not. She puts up with me, like the weird brother in the family that is always invited but no one really wants there.”
Sheppard, oddly, found that hard to deny—it was true most of the time. To avoid discussing that further, he’d frowned and looked back through the cell doors.
And then McKay had said something similar about Ronon, about wishing he’d figured out how to get the big guy to like him. John had said that Ronon did – that Ronon included McKay among his “people” – but Rodney had just shaken his head.
Then he’d wondered if Carter ever thought about him anymore, now that she was back on Earth. They’d been equals once, so he’d told John, and it had been fiery and exciting. But then she’d grown and…he hadn’t.
“You’ve grown,” John all but growled. It was getting ridiculous by this point. What was McKay doing, saying all these absurd things?
“I might be…less mean,” McKay said to that. “I guess that’s growth.”
John had rolled his eyes at that. He was not going to fall for it. McKay was fishing for compliments and he didn’t feel like playing that game.
After that, McKay had gone even deeper into the “I’ve sometimes wondered…” game, where, apparently, everything he’d ever thought about doing but never did popped into his head and out of his mouth. He’d wondered if he should have ascended that one time. He’d wondered if Elizabeth was still alive inside that frozen body out in space. He’d wondered if Radek resented him for never putting him on a gate team.
“Why didn’t you?” John had asked regarding that one. He’d wondered it himself.
“Initially, it’s because he begged me not to,” McKay said, giving another little shrug. “Then it was because…because I don’t think we could both be away from Atlantis at the same time. If something happened to me, he had to be there. He couldn’t be risked; someone almost as smart as me has to be there to take care of the city and its people if I die.”
John gave a snort. “Is that all?”
“What?” McKay’s expression showed annoyance for the first time since that morning.
“Are you sure it isn’t because you want to make sure you’re the one who makes the great scientific discovery in the field, not him?”
McKay stared at him, tilting his head, as if considering that statement honestly.
“No,” he said finally.
John smirked. “Sure.”
McKay’s gaze had turned inward then, until he’d shaken his head. “No,” he said, more confidently. “I’m sure.”
John shook his head at the allegedly thoughtful reply and rested his head against the bars again.
That’s when McKay had said that thing about wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
“You really think it’s weird?” McKay had asked. “My wanting to kiss you?”
“Yes,” John stated emphatically, “I do.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you’re as straight as they come, McKay. Smart blondes with boobs, remember? And so am I. We’re not like that. We don’t think about stuff like that.”
McKay stared at him for a while, and, curiously, he looked a little sad.
“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”
John frowned. “McKay, look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I feel like these are things you should be saying to one of the therapists back on Atlantis.” He’d glared at him then. “Not me. I’m no therapist.”
McKay just stared up at him with rheumy eyes, completely open.
“I know that,” he said softly. “But you’re my friend.”
“Yes.” John looked out of the bars again. He’d gotten pretty good at staring at a particularly broken bit of stone wall opposite the cage.
“You’re my best friend,” McKay said.
“I know.”
“I still don’t know how that happened.” McKay coughed weakly. “I was never anyone’s friend before. But I’d do anything for you. Like…anything.”
John bumped his head against the bars.
“That’s it,” he said, not turning around. “Enough. Did they inject you with something? Why are you saying all this stuff?”
“I thought that was obvious.”
“No,” John snapped. “It’s not.”
“They broke something in me. I can feel it. And I can’t move my legs.”
John whipped around, eyes wide. “What?”
McKay wasn’t looking at him anymore, his eyes glassy. Instantly, John was crouched in front of him, hands gripping Rodney’s arms, feeling how cold he was even through the black jacket. When Rodney didn’t really respond, John unzipped the jacket, revealing the torn, bloodied black t-shirt beneath. With a couple of tugs at the holes, he had it open and stared aghast at the burn marks and the purple and black bruises covering the other man’s torso from chest to navel.
“I don’t think they meant to kill me,” Rodney said, his voice halting. “But I was being me, you know? And they just kept punching….”
“No,” John said. “No, this is…. You’re going to be fine. This is fine. Teyla and Ronon will be on their way back now with a jumper and marines. They’ll get us out. Keller will fix you right up and you’ll be fine.”
“Jennifer.” Rodney coughed again. “I wonder sometimes if she really loves me, or if she just…settles for me. We…what we had before we came back to Pegasus, it’s not…it’s not the same.”
John shook him slightly, trying to get Rodney to look at him. When Rodney did, John smiled weakly.
“Of course, she loves you. How could she not?”
The first tear slid out of Rodney’s eyes.
“I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“I don’t think you’re qualified to tell me that.”
“Sure I am. Because I’m not going to let you die. You’re staying right here, with me. You just have to hold on, okay? We’re going to get out of here. This? This is nothing. All the things we’ve survived—explosions, the Wraith, the Replicators—it’s not going to be some meat-fisted thugs who can’t tell their asses from their heads.”
Rodney eyes seemed to bore into him, clearly wanting to believe him, desperately seeking confirmation of his words.
So, John kissed him. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even soft, and he could taste the slightly metallic blood on Rodney’s lips.
Rodney blinked a few times, clearly confused.
“But—”
“There. You don’t have to wonder anymore. That’s what kissing me feels like.”
Rodney’s brow furrowed, then he frowned deeply.
“You’re mocking me. I’m dying, and you’re making fun of my deathbed confess--”
“No!” John said, gripping Rodney’s arms even more tightly. “I’m just answering one of your questions.”
“That wasn’t what I meant by a kiss. That was like being uncomfortably kissed by your uncle at an Italian wedding.”
“That’s happened to you?”
“John.”
“Fine, well, then you’ll have to stay alive to find out what kissing me is really like, right? That’s just something you’ll have to do. Because you’re clearly not capable of a proper kiss right now. And I’ve been told I’m a good kisser. If you want to know what that means, you have to stay with me.”
Another tear fell down Rodney’s face.
“I don’t think it’s up to me,” he said softly.
“Then it’s up to me. I’m ordering you to stay alive. In fact, there’s got to be something more these people can do.” He looked towards the bars. “We came here to find that ancient facility. You said you thought it might even be a medical facility. It might have—”
“John,” Rodney’s voice was very small now. "Even if they came now--"
“No!” John shouted. “No! You are not giving up on me!” He twisted on his haunches. “Hey!” he yelled. “Hey! Guard! Someone! You’ve got to get us some help! My friend needs medical attention!”
“John.”
“HEY!” John practically screamed the word. “Hey! We need help! And if he dies, it really won’t go well for you, you hear me? Guard! GUARD!”
“John.”
John crushed his eyes together, refusing to twist back around. To look at Rodney.
“Just hang on,” he told him brokenly. “Help is coming.”
“John, please. Look at me?”
“Guard!” John stood up, facing the cell door. “Guard! Come here! Now!”
“John, I think…” Rodney’s voice was barely audible now. “…I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m sorry and I…I love--”
“No!” John felt the tears burning under his eyelids, unbidden and unwelcome. “Guard!” he shouted. “Guard!”
“What!” a voice returned, gruff and angry. “What are you bellowing about, prisoner?”
John strode the handful of steps to the bars. One of the ugly bastards that had thrown them in here sidled up on the other side, all curled lip and mocking brow.
“Your stupid interrogation went too far! My friend is dying! He needs medical attention now!”
The guard’s eyes slid past John, focusing on Rodney, and his mocking smile faded somewhat.
“Now!” John yelled. “Did you not hear me? Why aren’t you moving?”
The guard’s eyes returned to John’s.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“No shit!” John snapped. “Now get me a doctor or a healer or whatever you—”
“It’s too late.”
“What? No! He was just talk—”
John hadn’t meant to turn. It was just natural to look back, to gesture to where Rodney was sitting against the wall. Rodney’s head was down, his eyes staring blankly at his legs, hands curled lifelessly by his sides.
“Rodney?”
Rodney didn’t move.
“Rodney?” John dove forward, grabbing at him. “Rodney!”
Dimly, he heard guard swear about something and run away.
But John couldn’t stop staring at Rodney, waiting for an intake of breath, a shift of the eyes, a lift of the head….
“Rodney,” he whispered. “Don’t. Don’t do this. Come back. Come back.”
He heard it then, the rattle of gunfire. The explosions from drones hitting the grounds outside the encampment. The shouting. The screaming. The metallic swish of Ronon’s sword.
John barely noticed. It felt like his world had ended.
Is this what Rodney meant? This feeling?
He’d felt this before. After that entity had been in their heads, and he’d thought Rodney had died. Lost. Broke. Devastated. Is that how Rodney put it?
He was right. He felt devastated. No. He felt destroyed, like something down deep in his core had shattered and would never be repaired.
When did Rodney McKay become the person he couldn’t live without?
“Rodney,” he begged. “Please….”
The cell door swung open, and John barely acknowledged the appearance of the same guard from before. The man was large—at least Ronon’s size, maybe bigger—and he took up a lot of space in the tiny room.
“I have something,” the guard said. “It’s…there’s not a lot of this stuff, but it’s powerful.” He grimaced. “If it’s not been that long, it might be enough to…you know.”
John blinked up at him. “What?”
“If I can bring him back, will you tell them not to kill me and my family? It’s bad out there. Your people, we had no idea the firepower they had. They’re cutting through our fighters like they’re nothing. I don’t want to die; I don’t want any more of our people to die.”
John stared, still gripping Rodney's arm, and said brokenly, “He didn’t want to die either."
The guard nodded, then grabbed McKay’s arm. Shoving up Rodney’s jacket sleeve, he pulled out a large syringe in which a white, viscous substance sloshed around. As he went to inject it, John grabbed his wrist.
“What are you doing?” he snarled.
“I can bring him back. It won’t fix everything, but it’s powerful stuff. If he’s not been dead that long and, seeing as he still feels warm, I’m thinking he might have a chance. But you have to tell them what I did, okay? Tell them I helped? Even if this doesn’t work, tell them I tried?”
John knew logically that this could be bad, could have terrible repercussions, could bring Rodney back as vegetable or worse.
But he nodded numbly anyway.
The guard nodded and stabbed the needle into Rodney’s arm, into what looked like a vein, and pushed the thick white liquid into him. Rodney’s arm jerked, and John flinched—was that just a muscle spasm or….
Then Rodney sucked in a breath, and then another.
John gasped, grabbing at his friend’s face. Rodney blinked slowly, looking confused.
“Rodney?” John said. “Rodney, are you there?”
“What?” he croaked. “What happened? I thought I…Everything went black, and—”
“Welcome to Pegasus,” John said, grinning stupidly. “God, I love this galaxy so much.”
The guard gave John a weird look at that. He had pulled out the syringe.
“I need that,” John said, holding out a hand. “Our doctors will want to analyze it.”
The guard’s lips pursed, but he handed it over.
“There’s more,” he said gruffly. “Not a lot more, but some. It’s the last of this substance we found in the ruins. We use it to save our most important people, if they’re mortally wounded, like your friend. I can show you if…if you keep up your end of the bargain.” He then dug into his jacket and pulled out John’s radio. He held it out. “Please. Make them stop.”
John looked at Rodney, who still looked confused, and then nodded. Taking the radio, he clicked it and called out for a response.
________________________________________
“So, it was a medical facility!” Rodney said cheerfully, sitting up in his hospital bed on Atlantis, looking far healthier than he had a week ago, after they’d been rescued. It was the first time he looked actually awake. “You were right!”
“Yup,” John said. “Well, you were right. You’re the one who told us that’s what it could be when we planned the mission.”
“Oh, well,” Rodney said, smirking slightly. “Technically, Carson was right. He was the one who found the reference in the database. How he can parse out the medical mumbo-jumbo from the rest of it still baffles me. I read the Ancient text to mean a chemical facility researching bio-weaponry, he saw a medical facility dedicated to field medicine.”
“You have different priorities.”
“This time, I am glad I was wrong. So, what, this stuff is some sort of amazing chemical field bandage?”
“Keller’s still researching it, but, yes, seems like. A bandage for the inside, to hold people’s inner bits together until they can get back to a hospital. They clearly developed it during their war with the Wraith.” He shrugged. “The people on that planet have been using it for themselves for years; it led to them having this rather intense Klingon like culture, just without the ‘good day to die’ part, based on how fast they surrendered.”
“Heh.” Rodney smirked. “Klingons would never be that dirty. Or stupid.”
“True.”
“Oh, oh my god,” Rodney grabbed his head. “Do you think that stuff is what made them stupid? Will it make me stupid? Am I going to get dumber now? Quick!” He grabbed John’s hand. “Ask me something hard!”
“What’s the name of Johnny Cash’s last album?”
The look Rodney gave him was one of pure McKay-patented disdain.
“Scientifically hard,” he sneered. “Not pop culture hard!”
“You don’t know?”
“Of course, I know.” He crossed his arms. “I’m your best friend and he’s your favorite artist.” He arched an eyebrow. “Before or after he died?”
John lifted his chin, inordinately pleased by this response. “The last one he compiled, came out just after he died, a couple of years before we came here.”
“Unearthed.”
“Damn,” John said, whistling. “You really know that because of me?”
“Like you don’t have Scott Joplin’s rags and Rachmaninov in your record collection because of me. I saw them there. And a Cortet, too! You know he’s my idol.”
John grinned, and, curiously, felt himself blushing slightly. He looked away, towards the other room where he knew Keller was taking notes on the latest lab results on the substance.
When he looked at Rodney again, McKay was just looking at him, like he’d just realized something. He wore that utterly naked expression of his, the one that completely revealed the good, decent man inside to the world. And, in that moment, that man was focused entirely on John, and on John’s flushed cheeks.
John found himself swallowing nervously, and he rubbed at his head, ruffling his hair. You’re straight, he told himself firmly. And so is Rodney. His girlfriend is in the other room.
“Anyway, you’re going to be fine,” he told Rodney abruptly, his voice gruff. “You’re not going to lose any of those precious brain cells.”
Rodney gave a stilted nod, still staring at him with wide open blue eyes. “Right. Okay. Good.”
“I should go,” John said then, stepping back from the hospital bed.
“Sure.”
“There’s steak in the mess tonight. Want me to bring you some?”
“I’m sure Jennifer has that covered.”
“Yeah, ‘course.” He took another step back.
“But maybe you might want to come back at day’s end? Ronon and Teyla are coming, and they’re bringing a projector. We’re watching some new superhero movie. Iron Man, I think? Came out a couple of years ago, apparently. Ronon’s idea.”
“Sure. I’ll be there.” He huffed an embarrassed laugh. “I mean here. I’ll be here.” He actually already knew about the plan. It’d been his. Ronon had just picked the movie.
“Okay. Great. See you then, I guess.”
John lifted a hand to wave, felt stupid, and all but bolted out of the infirmary.
What the hell?
When he reached the hall, he kept moving until he found one of those darkened alcoves that used to house plants, and receded into it. Then he rubbed at his chest, trying to understand the knot that had formed there.
He was confused. Really confused.
All he knew was this. When Rodney had called him out on having those piano records, his expression completely smug and knowing, something inside John wondered…
He wondered what it would be like to kiss Rodney McKay.
“Shit,” he muttered softly. This could be a real problem.