Entry tags:

author: luthienlupin, challenge: harlequin

Eternal Sunshine, by unlikely, (Harlequin challenge)
Eternal Sunshine
by unlikely
McKay/Sheppard, R
~9000 words
Summary: Amnesia, loss or impairment of memory. It may be caused by organic disorders, such as brain injury or cerebral arteriosclerosis, or by functional nervous disorders, such as hysteria. Or, you know, by Ancient devices, such as the one which causes John to think he’s 21.
A/N: Veers off into the wacky at times, but I suppose this is consistent with the challenge. Post-Trinity.

eta: I previously posted the completely unedited version of this and was unable to do anything about it until now. I apologise; it's not that English is my eleventh language or anything.

“Will you just stop and listen to me for a minute! Well, okay, yeah! I was admittedly avoiding you for a short while back there. But then you started avoiding me! So I went back to avoiding you."

“How very playground of you --”

“Jesus, Rodney! You’re so --”

“Exceedingly busy at the moment, yes. Not to mention, as you can see, injured and tired, Colonel. So if you could just --"

“Okay fine! Forget it! Just forget it!”



“Colonel! Colonel Sheppard!” Lying on the floor, Sheppard’s eyes opened with a start, the disoriented look within them fading away momentarily as he focused on Rodney. He lifted his head slightly from the bundled-up dust cover Rodney had hurriedly stuck under his head while he was out. Then he looked up, down and side to side before closing his eyes again.

“Are you all right? Colonel?” Rodney observed in concern as he looked around in all directions once more, only this time his eyes remained open.

“I think must’ve you tripped on those cables and somehow hit your head,” Rodney looked across at the wires connecting some unknown Ancient apparatus, which was attached to the top of an intricate arch, to the naqahdah generator that was charging it.

Of course after the latest mission debriefing, face and arms still smudged with volcanic ash, Sheppard had chosen to storm into the lab (in the one of the more remote parts of the city) where Rodney was most certainly not hiding out. -- He’d only begged Carson to have Elizabeth to excuse him from the debriefing on account of his injury, and after showering and changing, had proceeded to the very important business of tinkering with unidentified Ancient toys. But not to escape Sheppard. -- And then, obviously, Sheppard followed Rodney around demanding that he talk to him even though Rodney was sure there wasn’t all that much to say anymore about that incident with the weapon.

Evidently he’d intended to storm his way through the archway and hopefully right back out, but instead tripped his way through. Rodney, who had turned back to his laptop, thought he imagined a glimmer before he turned around to see Sheppard lying there unconscious. And now, naturally, Rodney was going to be responsible for rendering his mission leader mute.

“Colonel!” Rodney saw him going to begin to repeat that bizarre process, and so pre-empted it, “You know what? That was only vaguely funny the first two times. Please stop being idiotic and tell me if you’re hurt and whether you want me to take you Carson or not?”

Sheppard blinked up at him for a few moments, and truthfully, it was a little unnerving so Rodney got impatient, rolled his eyes and snapped, “All right! Up you go! A trip to Carson it is,” Rodney tried to pull him up with his left hand; his right, with the two recently broken fingers protectively was held up to his chest. (The middle one was undamaged, and Rodney was thankful that at the very least he’d be able to communicate effectively with Kavanagh.)

“I’m fine. Hey, can you tell me something?” Sheppard sat up a little and leaned his back against the side of the archway, looking around calmly.

At least he achieved communicative drawling, Rodney thought, as he released the breath he was aware he had been holding. He stopped being entirely worried and switched back to his regular scheduled programming when it came to Colonel Sheppard: 37% worried, 26% annoyed, 26.4% amused, 10% appreciative and 0.6% in love. (There were pie charts and sensitivity plots involved in this breakdown, but only Zelenka could prove that.)

“I really think we, uh, ought to have you checked out first. You’re --"

“I said I’m fine. And it’s a couple of somethings, really.” He leaned forward, looking directly at Rodney as ran his fingers through the hair at the back of head – it, as per usual, survived unscathed – and Rodney admitted, okay, yeah, 0.600001% in love.

“Where is Mitch? Where am I? Where’s Carson? And mostly, who are you?”

“Okay! Fine. Let’s take a moment from your probable head trauma and my obvious leisure time to play along to Sheppard’s I’m-employing-thirteen-year-old-girl-tactics-because-I-suck-profusely game!”

Rodney reclined petulantly against the piece of Ancient equipment behind him. He and Radek had flipped a coin to decide which Post-It it was to be labelled. ‘Ancient Dryer’ had won out, but the green, crumpled-up paper on the floor next to him indicated that ‘Quasi-stellar Radio Source Model’ was a close second.

“One, I don’t know, because, contrary to vastly popular belief, I am not the Wikipedia of the Pegasus Galaxy. Two, in one of the Ancients’ labs near the northern end of the city, irking me to previously unknown levels. Three, I hate you. Four, I am Dr. Rodney McKay. Growing up, I was a mild and pleasant child and I see no evidence to the contrary that doesn’t still hold. A friend of mine is still acting like a dick over something which I don’t know how to fix.”

Sheppard frowned and gave him a look which somehow forcefully reminded Rodney of the one he had received leaving his helicopter for the first time back in Antarctica.

Rodney looked down and sighed tiredly. “So tell me. Who are you, Colonel Sheppard?”



“Is... Is my father here?”

Dr. Rodney McKay, still looking down, just shook his head. “Right... So. Me.”

John thought about it. He wanted to share one or two of his problems as well so that the Doc could look less like he was about to implode with sadness. All things considered, he told himself wryly, it wouldn’t be too hard to find some.

“Name’s John Sheppard. I’ll be finishing USAFA in a couple of months, much to the non-giving-a-shit of my father. I appear to have been captured by persons who think I am said father. My last memory before this is of Flight telling my friend, Mitch, that there was some bad weather coming and to head back. I can only assume he is being held somewhere else, and I’m calmly hoping it’s nothing worse. My friendly neighbourhood abductor seems to be a little bit... different. But, Stockholm Syndrome be damned, I don’t think he’s all that bad.”

He smiled across at the doctor, who was stared at him, wild-eyed and open-mouthed, and was starting to rise. John privately commended himself that he was handling this whole thing far better than the good – or, you know, possibly evil, bent-on-world-domination doctor. So looked down at his hands searching for something else to say.

“And my arms look kinda funny! Ashy, and with more scars than usual...” He brought the back of his palm closer to his face to examine. This, Doc McKay took as invitation to unceremoniously haul him up and pull him towards the doorway. “Oh, and two weeks ago, I realised I’m gay!”



While in the infirmary waiting room, Rodney, Radek and Major Lorne were deciding on the best way to help Colonel Sheppard regain his memory.

Radek proposed that they should have Teyla hit him with a stick over the back of his head. Lorne reminded them that Teyla was currently trading offworld with Ronon, but that he himself would bravely perform her task if necessary.

When Carson came out of the exam room to call them in, Rodney was offering to throw Sheppard off the gateroom balcony, “Just, you know, returning the favour,”

Sheppard was sitting on the exam table in a hospital robe. He smiled sheepishly at Rodney when he saw him walk in.

Elizabeth was hovering nearby; throwing worried but fond glances at Sheppard as if he were about four. She, too, smiled at particularly Rodney. Rodney mentally assessed his appearance to see if there was jam on his chin again.

“I have been giving Colonel Sheppard a very brief overview of what he’s appeared to forgotten, while his tests were being run.” Inclining her head toward him she said, “Dr. Beckett was just about to give his assessment.”

“Physically, I’d say he is as fine as ever,” Carson addressed them, and then turned to Sheppard, “Oh, well, there’s that small bump at the back of your head from when you fell. But it’s noting permanent, Colonel.”

Sheppard failed to look alarmed or gratified or even reacted to that at all, and Rodney wondered enviously why he was so damn well-adjusted.

“Medically, with the exception of this dramatic loss of a block of his memory, all the tests indicate he’s sound as well.”

“That’s good to hear. What can we do?"

"Could we try... Oh I don’t know, hypnosis?”

“We could try everything just short of pushing him off this exam table in hopes that he hit his head in the same way again,” He shot Rodney a dark look, “But it’s not going to make a difference. This wasn’t caused by cerebral arteriosclerosis.” Seeing further clarification was required for, well everyone, he said, “Brain injury.”

“So you think this was something else, Doctor?” Major Lorne asked apprehensively.

“Aye. Rodney, you said Colonel Sheppard passed through some type of an archway with an active Ancient device. Did you notice anything before he was knocked out?”

“I wouldn’t say active... It didn’t do anything when we passed through it. We concluded that its metaphoric batteries were d-- Uh, yeah, I think there was a faint flash of light. But I thought I imagined it.”

Elizabeth looked around decisively, “Well then, let’s head down there and take a look at this thing. I’m sure there will be a way to reverse this, John. However, I still think that until this is fixed, you should pay a visit to Dr. Heightmeyer, our psychologist – this can’t be very easy for you.”

Sheppard gave a noncommittal shrug. Elizabeth just looked resigned.



“Amnesia?”

“Again, yes, Dr. Weir.”

“When did our lives become a soap opera?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong as it’s all still a little unclear, but I suspect it was about the moment we apparently stepped through a Stargate to an alien galaxy.”

“I do believe you’re right, Colonel.”

“Huh. Nice. I’m a Colonel! Lieutenant Colonel Me. Weird, but wow.”

“Oh no, not this again,”

“Look, with all due respect, I’m not calling a 21-year-old ‘Colonel’--"

“I don’t mind John. It is my name after all-- ”

“Or we can call you Mini-John--”

“Or John2.0--”

“Actually, John0.75, I would expect--"

“Hey!”

“All right, gentlemen! I suggest we get to work on bringing our ranking military officer back. Until then however, Major, you know what your job is.”

“Yes, Dr. Weir,”

“Radek, I want you to head this. No arguments, Rodney. You can assist him, if and only if, he requires it, but be mindful of your injury. Plus, I have another task in mind for you.”



“Doc McKay, why does it... kind of, glow where we walk?”

Shep -- John and Rodney were walking down the corridor from the infirmary. He was back in his mission uniform, minus his armaments which Elizabeth had taken away probably fearing John would shoot himself in the foot. She’d then suggested John get take some time and get cleaned up before meeting them at the lab, and as he couldn’t recall his way around, and as she was mean, she’d appointed Rodney to baby-sit.

“What? Oh, that’s largely for you. It only somewhat twinkles – in the uh, manliest way possible of course -- for me. And most everyone else with the Ancient gene as well.”

“Cool. Why?” He smiled. At that moment, though not exclusively, Rodney strongly disliked Elizabeth and her smug and horrid and all-knowing smile.

“Because the city loves you and thinks you’re its beloved, long-lost master,” Rodney smiled unkindly.

“Oh.” His eyes widen a bit. “So I’m like the King of Atlantis? Like King Triton? Do I have a throne?” John grinned at him and Rodney thought with a jolt that he had the same easy smile like Sheppard. Well, clearly, he was still him. Just this John was more the him before Rodney made an error and disintegrated a bit of a solar system -- one that nobody was using anyway! And he’d apologised as best as he could. Profusely even! -- Not the one who had alternately ignored and stalked him since then.

“Um, first of all, no. Second of all, huh? No. And lastly... well actually, sort of. There is this chair --”

John pumped a triumphant fist in the air and Rodney couldn’t help a genuine smile. Only a little, though. It was more of a grimace, really. The kid was annoying.

“And please, heed my compassioned plea and stop calling me ‘Doc McKay’. It’s creeping me out.”

“Can I call you My Lord High Minion McKay?”

“Oh I’d be entirely thrilled if you don’t. Now shut up.”



John shut up all the way to the transporter and Rodney cruelly thought that at least he hadn’t yet developed his patented disregard for all things authoritative. He looked over and saw the definite beginnings of a sulk and resolved to be a smidgen nicer. This John didn’t make his insides clench every time he saw him recently.

“You can do it this time,” Rodney said imperiously, remembering how delighted he’d looked when they used it before to get there.

When they arrived at his quarters, John gave it one quick look-over and pronounced, “I gotta say, if this is where the King of Atlantis sleeps, I’d hate to see the underlings’ rooms.”

Rodney silently agreed. “Well? Go on,” Rodney prodded as they both stood surveying the room from just outside the doorway.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Uh... What? Why would – No. I have thorough faith in your ability to find some clothes and get changed on your own.”

“Come on! Let’s see just how uncool I am in my senior years,”

“We aren’t that old,”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to,” With that John pulled him into the room and then started methodically examining the items on the small desk. And Rodney was in Sheppard’s room with the Colonel himself, and all it took was for one of them to lose their memory.

John shortly abandoned his inspection and took a step toward Rodney facing him with his arms folded.

“So, are we going to your room next?” John asked innocently, taking another step closer.

“Tell me, we’ve never ...?" Rodney forced himself to shake his head. He was having trouble separating reality from nighttime fantasy.

John leaned forward carefully, and only when he was lips were a couple centimeters away from Rodney's did his brain manage to wrestle back control. He took a step backwards from John, and then took two more, just to be sure.

“You’re... straight now.”

"Am I now?" John smirked.

"Uh, I think so, yeah. I'm not kidding!" Rodney tried shouting when John still looked disbelieving.

“What? Why? That’s crazy.” John studied him for a moment. “What about you?”

“I’m going outside to wait until you’re done,” The smirk returned, only this time with the raised eyebrows.

“But what if I need help exploring my new body?”

“Please stop speaking to me,” Rodney fled the room, while John called after him.

"The shower might be too futuristic for me!"



Rodney went outside, sat on the little white sofa there and watched what he only could assume was decorative bubbling set into the wall.

Some time after, EvilJohn came outside solemnly wearing a red t-shirt and jeans -- had Rodney ever seen Sheppard in colours? -- and hair flawlessly coiffed, which at least gave Rodney’s tumbling insides something normal and steady to hold on to.

He walked over and sat down next the Rodney. He was far enough away that Rodney was fairly assured he wasn’t about to make moves on him again; but close enough that the scent of soap was all he could breathe. Rodney valiantly attempted to not get turned on, and stared at bubbles with increased resolve.


“McKay?”

“What now?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Huh. Well, ah, so am I. Let’s go.”



Sitting in the mess hall, with Dr. McKay eating at an alarming rate and glancing up every so often to probably ensure John wasn’t going to jump him, John was beginning to feel kind of bad about trying to kiss him. So he apologised and McKay appeared kind of surprised but said ‘s’okay’ anyway.

Then he took a chance and suggested that long corridors in Atlantis would be ideal for skateboarding and that maybe they should have Dr Weir look into that. McKay smiled somewhat fondly and told him that wasn’t the first time he’d proposed that, and John felt better.

McKay was detailing John’s efforts to have a board made on the mainland - mainland? - when two space and/or cave people walked up to them. One of them was really tall and hot. Rodney made introductions.

“This is our very own Athosian warrior princess, Teyla Emmagan. Resplendent in all things save the use of contractions. And my other favourite alien, Ronon Dex, who’s possibly sensitive to good table manners but really, far be it for me to, ah, judge...”

“Sheppard, we heard --" The tall hot one began.

“Call me John,” He shot him the most winning grin he could manage, as he gestured for them to sit while answering Dr. McKay’s colossal eye-roll with a what-can-you-do shrug.

They chatted idly for a couple of minutes about the trading agreements for John had no idea what, until McKay cheerfully reminded him that they were expected at the lab and pretty much dragged him away from the table.



“The device appears to stimulate a systematic loss of recall, relating to a particular type or group of experiences.” Zelenka began when they arrived and were standing around the archway.

Carson continued, “It then imperceptibly alters the remaining memories to compensate for the loss.”

“Then why did Colonel Sheppard forget everything to a certain point?” Elizabeth asked still smiling at John as if that certain point was toddler-aged.

“Ah, well I think that may have been our fault,” Radek admitted. Rodney had suspected as much.

“The naqahdah generator,”

“Yes. It seems we over-powered the device causing this unusual behaviour. He may even have lost even more of his memory than he already had, had its fail-safe not kicked in on its own, and had the point to which he wanted to 'erase' his memory had not yet reached.”

“So is it reversible?” Elizabeth asked patiently.

“Under normal circumstances, completely so, yes. The removed memory is wholly stored. You can see Colonel Sheppard’s here,” Carson pointed to vaguely sinusoidal wave running across the screen of one laptops now surrounding the archway. “It can hold many more than one at a time, I think. All ready to be seamlessly replaced when the time comes.”

“Sounds kinda dangerous,” John observed. As he stood there with his arms folded, Rodney had to remind himself that this was the standard-issue Colonel Sheppard.

“I suppose it could be, but it does not work on the principle of making someone forget. The user himself has to consciously be aware of what he wishes to forget.”

“You said there can be multiple memories at one times, how does it know which goes to whom?” Rodney shuddered and discreetly moved away from Carson. The incident with Cadman was not easily forgotten.

“When used correctly, the device uniquely identifies each individual and their corresponding memory by an advanced MRI of sorts, when they step under it again.”

“So all I’ve gotta do is trip across this thing again?”

“Yes, after we cleverly fixed it - which should take about a day or so. Although, walking will be fine.”

“Radek, we should use the --"

“Yes, I know. Considering that it --"

“Yeah, yeah. I assume this one isn’t damaged, right?”

“No, it will still be more than suitable for the energy requirements --“

“Excuse me, Dr Zelenka,” John interrupted, probably sensing that he and Zelenka could go on like that for a while.

“When I get my old memories back, will I forget what has happened since?” He asked with a quick perturbed glance at Rodney.

“Because we are working with higher than normal energy levels for the device, I cannot say for certain as yet. I am sorry.” Radek answered with a half smile.

Rodney thought about it. “What kind of statistics are were talking about here?”

“I’d say a sixty/forty chance of not retaining --”

“Forty is good,” Rodney said grasping at straws. “Forty is very close to fifty. In fact, forty is as close to fifty as... sixty is to fifty. But it’s practically fifty...”



Before Elizabeth and Carson left the lab shortly thereafter, Elizabeth, angelic creature that she was, produced a DVD of all their mission reports and other happenings since coming through the Stargate. Rodney sincerely hoped that it would keep John busy in a corner of the lab as they worked.

What they were instead getting, was a strange play-by-play of the past year and couple months, that Rodney, absurdly, found he was enjoying.

John would tentatively touch his own neck and go, “Ugh!” and Rodney would smile to himself knowing exactly what he was grossed out about. Or he would say something along the lines of, “How come I was able to control the mist reality?” and then Rodney and Zelenka would argue for the next half an hour about their respective theories.

Other times, John, walking over, would pose a question like “Who would you guys say was the bravest during the big hurricane?” And Carson would appear behind them saying with a grin, “I feel confident in saying that would have to be me.”

One time, he exclaimed, “Oh cool! Dr. Weir is letting us investigate that downed Wraith ship,” making Rodney spill his coffee. And when he thought they weren’t really listening, he said quietly, almost to himself, “Hmm. So sometimes I’m still a jackass who doesn’t trust other people easily. Nice to know.”

Two hours later, he was walking around readingas well, having managed to transfer the some of data to an Ancient handheld gadget that had refused to respond to anyone else. Rodney had tried not to look impressed but had whispered to Radek to watch John closely the next time to see how he’d done it.

When John saw Rodney struggling with his left hand to drink his coffee with minimum possible spillage, he walked out with the “amused/sceptical eyebrows” (as Rodney liked to call them, only in his head of course.) He returned with an assortment of straws and stuck an orange bendy one into Rodney’s coffee with a victorious flourish. Rodney gave Johnli a powerbar, tried really hard to not fall in love with him, and disregarded Radek’s equally triumphant smile.


A couple hours later, Radek had exited the lab for a break in a bit of a huff over what he called Rodney’s interfering, but Rodney simply knew to be intellectual superiority. John came over and hovered around Rodney for several minutes.


“McKay,”

“What?”

“Did I really have sex with the alien lady?”

“Chaya? Does it say that there?”

“Nope. Not outright anyway. But it’s strongly implied.”

“In your report?”

“No. Yours.”

“Oh, well, uh, that makes sense.”

“But... why? I’m not straight. Did she use some of her freakish powers on me?”

“Maybe. Or, maybe your brand spanking new gay was only a phase.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure it’s not.”

“If you say so. Hey, ever heard of court-martial?”

“You think I’m the only homosexual to ever pass through the Academy? Is that what...? You think that’s what I’m afraid of?”

“I, uh, ... Ooh look! Let me see that surveillance photo. I didn’t know we had those back then.”

“I look dashing, but that’s to be expected. And yeah, she’s hot, but in, like, a smarmy kind of way --”

“Oh yeah, Chaya’s got cooties --"

“Is that Lieutenant Ford?”

“Where? Yup, that’s him. And that’s me behind --”

“Ha! You look so dejected it’s almost funny.”

“No, it’s not --"

“Hey... Hey! You had a crush on me!”

“What? Why would you jump to that --”

“You did! It all makes sense now; I am, after all --"

“D-d-did anyone take you up in a puddlejumper yet?”



“Do I like it here?”

High above the planet, Rodney congratulated himself on being the ultimate master of distraction.

John had whooped and maybe even squealed a little during the first portion of the flight. Next had come, what Rodney had felt was the cardiac arrest-inducing flying, and he was really really glad that John had mostly outgrown that.

Part of him didn’t think it was all that bad though, which he attributed to his own personal development, rather than the fact that his traitor brain kept thinking, ‘shep:) = me:)’ The puddlejumper responded to John’s every whim as expected, because if the city was welcoming spouse/AscendedWhore/whatever that John Sheppard came home to, the puddlejumper was the dog who bounded out, tail wagging to greet him.

Seeing as John was more than mildly stupid at times, he thought the concept of inertial dampening effects was uncanny, and said that he felt there should a least be ‘some wind or something’. Right on cue, a cool, gentle breeze fanned about them, and though Rodney approved of transparent favouritism only when directed at him, he readily admitted that the result was most agreeable.

“What? How would I know? Why don’t you try and call up an Ancient Like-o-Meter? I’m sure the ship will draw on every last breath of my precious air to cobble one -- Oh. The Regular-Sized Sheppard? Hmm. I think so, yes. I can’t recall you ever saying it to me in so many words, but I feel fairly certain in saying you do. And you liked Antarctica, so I think it’s safe to say you’re a weirdo.”

John returned his lazy grin with a glance that made Rodney’s heart beat faster -– his life-signs indicator even emitted a feeble beep to verify it. Like it cared. -- And Rodney pretended, for the time, that the person he probably cared for the most in the galaxy didn’t have artificially-induced amnesia and that everything was back to being okay between them.

John, as expected, wrecked his illusion entirely.


“So were, like best friends and you want to get into my pants?”

“W-w-who... Who said we were best friends?”

“Well, Dr. Weir seemed to – Are we not really?”

“Oh yeah, we’re BFF. Don’t fret, we did a spit shake on it and everything.”

“I can see why I must like you.”

“Even now with memory loss, your remarkable shrewdness astounds.”

“No really, I mean it. I probably really like that weird way you talk with your hands all the time --”

“Yeah? Well... you’re always talking with your face! Huh. I suppose everyone talks with their face seeing as their mouths are on it... But we’ve had entire world-altering discussions with me spewing forth inimitable brilliancy from my mouth -- and hands! -- and you just facial expression-ing back at me. It’s infuriating! Okay, sometimes, charming. But often infuriating!”



When Rodney looked across, Johnlet who had a thoughtful expression his face, was looking like he was screwing himself up to say something.

Rodney wondered in a panic if John was developing some sort of feelings for him, because that would be supremely awkward when his memory returned. Then he felt kind of proud. And smug, however that was so constant an emotion that he barely registered it anymore. But then he felt a little bit guilty and ... pretty lame, so he tried to stop feeling and stared out at the planet and waited instead.

“Look. I’m the kind of person who reads the ending of a book before even finishing the prologue --”

“I abhor your kind of person --"

“So I know about the whole weapon of ultimate destruction catastrophe. And I just want to say this.” John paused and stared down at the glowing display. For the first time Rodney thought he looked even younger than the age he thought he was.

He continued, “The thing is, I’ve always had... some trust issues. Which you probably already know. But when I do trust someone, it’s because I really really do. So... just give me -- the other me, the one whose reports clearly indicate thinks the world of you –- give me a chance, okay?”

The sycophantic wind chose that moment to ruffle John’s hair, a feat at which Rodney marvelled because he’d seen several blasts in the field fail to do the same. Rodney looked forward, cleared his throat and suggested they head back as undoubtedly Zelenka, perhaps hoping John had forgotten how to fly the jumper while in orbit, would be stealing Rodney’s papers in hopes as passing then off as his own.



Back in Atlantis, as they reached the transporter outside of the jumperbay, Rodney mumbled something about Dr. Heightmeyer, to which John non-committaly mumbled agreement. Rodney tried to enunciate the directions to her office clearly, as the mumbling was starting to grate him.



Later John came back into the lab with a plain black notebook tucked under his arms. He waved hello to both Rodney and Radek, then sat down on his stool in front of the laptop again.

After seventeen minutes of silence, he stood up, walked over to where Rodney was running simulations of the power requirements to the device. He bent his head and asked if Rodney knew whether he had sent any personal messages back home via the databurst before the siege. Rodney told him he honestly didn’t know for sure, and John indifferently shrugged he was just curious when asked why he wanted to know.

As John turned to walk away again, Rodney’s newly found predilection toward the high moral ground made him feel a stab of guilt for asking. He also held it responsible for causing him to blurt out, “Kid, aren’t you bored reading all those reports yet?”

John pivoted on the spot and Rodney searched his mind for a reason why anyone else in two galaxies he knew would look stupid doing that, but that Sheppard always managed to make look charismatic. When he could not find one, he blamed it on his unfortunate morals issue again.

“Not really. It’s kinda fun. And hey, if for some reason you guys can’t fix this and I’m stuck this way, I’ll need to know it all anyway, right?”

“Yes, that... that’s an excellent attitude.” He decided to name this decency thing ‘Elizelenka’. Granted it wasn’t very clever, it was at least apt, as it often happened to manifest itself in a way –a voice, a look- related to either one of his two colleagues, and was likewise exasperating.

“If you’d like, I could, uh, tell you about the rest of it. While we work. You were -- You are usually an adequate help with ... lifting. And other things. Sometimes. And, you know,” He raised his right hand and wriggled its undamaged fingers.

“I’d like that,” WeeJohn beamed, “Your reports are my favourite parts anyway.”

Which caused Rodney to beam because deep down he felt there was an unconscionable failure to appreciate his minor masterpieces. He could barely even summon the sufficient venom to glare at Radek, who was trying to catch his eye from where he was adjusting the device.



A few more hours later, John was mostly up to date on need-to-know information in the Pegasus Galaxy, and even some of the more gossipy kind helpfully supplied by Dr. Zelenka. All three worked silently for a while, nearing the final stages of reconfiguring the device. John found that he had a really neat intuition when it came to the Ancient technology.

Zelenka announced that it would fully charged and ready for use by the next morning. McKay had countered that only 2 or 3 hours would be sufficient, and seeming to catch Zelenka’s facial expression, added that the better thing let it go through the night, just to be on the safe side. Then he none too smoothly changed the topic too ask why the Ancients would build something like anyway.

Zelenka suggested that is was for erasing the memory of past lovers. McKay sceptically said he saw the movie too, and they were both about to begin listing Kate Winsomething’s many talents when John said, “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

He continued when they looked at him inquiringly, “To keep valuable information out of enemy hands.”

McKay and Zelenka looked at each other.

“I was even thinking it could be useful for missions here because... Because of the Wraith? And, you know, Atlantis...?” He trailed off uncertainly; the two scientists were mutely looking from John to each other now.

“Rodney, he’s --”

“Yeah yeah yeah. I know. It’d be virtually --”

“Undetectable. We'd have to dampen the... And the only problem --”

“It’s not permanently affixed to the top of arch anyway. We could easily --”

“It would have to lead to an offworld --”

“To and from one of the Alpha Sites. Exactly.”

“A manned outpost --”

“We have to tell Elizabeth.”

“I’ll finish up here. You two can go talk to Dr. Weir,” Zelenka generously offered, and McKay wasted no time in dragging John out of the lab. John was really pleased with himself, even though much of their discussion had passed over his head. What had happened to the days when he was easily the smartest person at the Academy?

McKay grinned animatedly at him in the middle of muttering to himself, and John, heart thumping, reflected that he really had ended up very lucky in his old age.



Radek radioed Rodney from, according to him, his warm, comfortable bed and ordered Rodney to leave the lab to get some sleep, much later that night. Rodney asked whether that was an invitation and told Zelenka he didn’t date outside his continent, but left anyway.

Rodney sat outside John’s room watching the bubbles again for two minutes, not really surprised to be there, and then let himself into the room.

John had moved his cot to the centre of the room for reasons completely unknown to Rodney. He was lying on his back, a pen poised above a blank page in the notebook he had returned with from Dr. Heightmeyer.

Rodney sat next to him on the low bed and watched as he did nothing but close the book with the pen still in it. He lowered it to his side, and did not let go of it even as Rodney slowly bent forward and kissed him.


Though he had never really voiced the thought, Rodney has always truly felt that kissing was just a means to get to the good part. And that sex was really just done so that he could get back to the theory he was trying to prove, to the one he was trying to debunk, to the experiment that would change the world invariably even if only marginally. Back to work, really. Just with a lovely afterglow now. Maybe even half less shouting at his subordinates and/or superiors, and sometimes even a constant vague smile that often seemed to upset them more than the reduced insults.

As John's tongue moved smoothly and confidently inside his mouth, Rodney wondered why nobody ever explained it to him. Or, you know, demonstrated.

John’s teeth scraped gently across Rodney's lips, and his nose pushed against his cheek. It was the only other place they were touching and Rodney was pretty much floating on a really exceptional high.

Rodney forced himself to pull back and sit upright because he wasn’t sure if his delicate mind could handle too much of a good thing. John remained in essentially the same position as before, only the upward tilt of this chin and the redness of his lips suggested that anything had taken place. Well that, and the unreservedly smug aura that radiated from every atom of his being.

Rodney looked off to the side cradling his injured hand, because he couldn’t keep staring without wanting to hurt him severely or kiss him. And he needed to think first.

“I think...” He bit his lower lip and swiped his tongue across it. He imagined he could still taste John there, and then he snorted. That had sounded almost as pitiable as it sounded slutty.

But damn.

“That was... the best kiss of my life.” He decided to go with simple honesty because his brain wasn’t functioning at its usual level – it was still at a stage higher than most people’s, but just below that of ultra-genius. It was a first, Rodney thought.

“For the record, I’d just like to babble that, yes, I am aware that you are, at the moment, considerably younger than I. It’s... wrong.”

“So wrong it’s right?”

“Uh. Not really, no. But I comfort myself in the knowledge that you will hopefully forget all this by tomorrow.”

“I thought Dr. Zelenka said that --"

“Shut up and let me have my delusion.”


Rodney got up to leave with John following after a moment, notebook in tow. He put it into Rodney’s hand saying that Heightmeyer wanted him to keep a personal record in case he didn’t remember it tomorrow. Rodney adopted a nasal drawl, ‘Dear diary, today I flew a spaceship. V cool.’ John laughed and said Rodney could read it if he wanted to, as he’d just realised something. He also said that Rodney should be the one to decide if he, John, should read it in case he forgot tomorrow.

John let go of it, leaned in and pressed his lips to Rodney’s brow which succeeded in succeeded in making Rodney feel younger than John’s believed 21 years. But it also made him feel warm and sleepy, so he didn’t complain and just stepped away, waving goodbye to the bubbles.



The next morning passed by in a blur.

Rodney tried to return the book to John, having not even opened it. But he just asked excitedly if Rodney didn’t want to know what he’d realised. He wore regular clothes this time, probably having already exhausted his extensive supply of casual wear.

Without waiting for Rodney to answer, John explained that he figured out that it didn’t matter if he forgot, to which Rodney coldly responded that no, of course it didn’t. At that, John looked startled and confused, but Radek was calling him over so he went.

You’ll be straight then. And I'll have my best friend back. Super.

Rodney felt that time slowed when John walked unhesitatingly under the device. It glowed momentarily and John’s eyes flickered for the briefest of moments before he blinked.

He smiled in answer when Elizabeth asked, “Colonel Sheppard?”

After a round of everyone welcoming him back, they ascertained he still had his memory of the past day.

Rodney placed his book next to the beretta they couldn’t wait to re-arm Sheppard with, and quietly left the lab.



Rodney heard his name being called, but kept briskly walking anyway.

Rodney was all the way to the transporter doors - which refused to open - when, from behind, Sheppard’s hand grabbed his unhurt one and spun him around.

And then time was back to normal speed.


Rodney glanced back to give the traitorous transporter a dark look. To be fair, he supposed it was partially his fault: maybe he didn’t really want it to open. Maybe there was a small -- okay fine, overwhelming -- part of him that was dancing about in joy over the fact that Sheppard had followed. But he wasn’t about to acknowledge that immature and deeply pathetic side of him, so stupid transporter!

Acutely aware that Sheppard was still firmly holding his hand within his own, Rodney looked all around except at Sheppard’s face.

“Rodney, why did you leave?”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware you still needed a tour guide.” Rodney always felt his natural state was one of cruelty, so when pushed, he generally reverted to it.

“It didn’t matter if I forgot,” Sheppard said over him, “Because I knew I’d eventually figure it out anyway.”

Rodney looked up and opened his mouth to speak, but Sheppard cut him off. He still didn’t let go of Rodney’s hand, and it was kind of nice so Rodney let him.

“So tell me. Since before I got amnesia and came out to the city at large, why wouldn’t you talk to me?”

So apart from those things, they were back to square one. Well at least this time he wasn’t shouting, and consequently Rodney didn’t have the urge to remove a crystal from transporter’s control panel to stab him with. Rodney sighed.

“Honestly, Colonel, I don’t know what else there is to say. I apologised. And if you need to hear it again for us to move on, I’ll repeat it.” He looked up. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“You made me trust you.” He didn’t sound angry about it anymore. “And then you did what pretty everyone else in my life before Atlantis did. You betrayed that trust. And I'm pissed off at you for doing that! Not for egotistically misjudging the weapon, although, sure, that was expectedly exasperating.”

Sheppard took a small step closer and gave Rodney’s hand a minute squeeze and Rodney, not knowing what to say, reciprocated but with more force.

“And I was pissed with myself for wanting to trust you immediately after and knowing that I would. I wanted to be mad at you for a little while longer, Rodney. But then you came after me with this look on your face. Like... like Santa had come down your chimney, kicked your kitten, and went right back up again, and it was all I couldn’t do keep myself from... wanting to do... this --”

And with that Sheppard closed the remaining distance between them by both moving forward and pulling Rodney closer by the hand, and pressed his mouth hard against Rodney’s.

So Sheppard was kissing Rodney, and moreover, Sheppard was kissing him like he really meant it. And, yeah, some things do improve with age, Rodney mused and still found it highly unfair.

Both their mouths opened at the same time and Sheppard elicited a moan that Rodney more felt than heard as it reverberated its way down to pool in his stomach. Sheppard’s free hand came to hold Rodney’s head in place and the thumb against his cheek stroking in time to the tongue inside his mouth.

Blissed out, Rodney hadn’t even noticed the transporter behind him was now open, but he didn’t object as Sheppard gently directed him backwards in it, still not breaking their kiss.

Sheppard hadn’t let go of his hand even when Rodney tried to pull away.

Rodney didn’t mind. 'It was even a little quaint, 'he thought contentedly. His other hand was well out of the way as Sheppard used his body to nudge Rodney back onto the closed display panel/touch pad.



Their mouths broke apart and with Sheppard’s warm body pressed up wholly against his own, Rodney was already starting to get hard. He moved his hips slowly and realised he wasn’t the only one.

Sheppard thrust back and wetly licked a wide path down his neck, which resulted in Rodney cracking the back of his head on the wall as he threw it back.

Their bodies moved languidly together as their mouths drew apart and together again. Rodney’s heart raced as their cocks slid fully against each other and Sheppard’s grip on his hand tightened. Their hips ground into one another faster and more erratically.

Then the Colonel... John ... Sheppard... whatever - Rodney guessed he had lost higher brain functioning once again - promptly stepped back. As he surveyed Rodney with his lips red, and his eyes slightly lidded, and his cock more than slightly noticeable in against his pants, Rodney’s inner voice said, “W-w-wow, he’s smokin’,” And then he snidely thought, “Thank you, Inner Voice, for stuttering.”

“Take off your pants,” Sheppard instructed.

Rodney really didn’t need to be told twice. It took longer than usual to remove his shoes, pants and boxers, what with one opposable thumb and all, but Sheppard offered no assistance.

When Rodney faced him again, his stomach fluttered seeing the smile playing across his mouth. When Sheppard licked his lips, moved forward and knelt in front of Rodney in one swift motion.

Rodney smiled warmly as Sheppard took his hand again, linked their fingers together and pressed the back of Rodney’s palm to the wall. His other hand held Rodney’s waist securely in place.

Rodney’s bare ass was just about to give a quick thanks to the clever Ancients who’d engineered heated walls when Sheppard put his warm mouth to the base of Rodney’s cock, intently licking and kissing his way up its underside. His colder nose occasionally bumped against it as well and Rodney found it distinctively appealing.

When Sheppard paused, Rodney was forced to break his unfocused gaze at the closed doors and look down at him. Sheppard’s eyes locked onto his own and he didn’t look away as he took a considerable amount of Rodney into his mouth. He pulled his head back and then went down again, this time allowing Rodney to go deeper.

Rodney was desperately trying to wrap his brain around the fact that John Sheppard was currently moving up and down his length with a supremely soft and wet mouth. The hand firm on Rodney’s waist urged him to move as Sheppard’s sucking increased in intensity and pace, his eyes never leaving his own.

Rodney vaguely considered releasing his death grip on Sheppard’s fingers and grasping Sheppard’s hair instead, but decided it was in his best interest to let him continue uninterrupted. Not that anyone noticed or anything, but Sheppard tended to be somewhat sensitive about his hair.

Rodney’s last coherent thought involved hair products and fundamental laws of physics when he came, Sheppard’s mouth still working over him. He hit his head against the wall again as he threw it back and groaned, “Oh, God.” His knuckles were pressed so hard to the wall for support that he was sure they, probably along with Sheppard fingers, would be bruised later on.

The last waves of ecstasy ebbed away over Rodney. Sheppard rose up, lean body close to Rodney’s as he leaned close to his ear, and said in a low voice, “There’s no need to call me that, Rodney. For you, King of Atlantis will be just fine.”

Rodney felt the smirk as Sheppard slowly kissed him along his cheekbone. He caught Sheppard’s lips with his own, kissed him deeply and replied, “Yes, master. Now get undressed.”

Sheppard wasted no time in removing his shirt. Rodney was soon running his fingers through the dark hair on Sheppard’s stomach, while their mouths meet and Sheppard kissed back hungrily.

He kicked out of his shoes and pants, and Rodney saw the translucent spot of pre-come on his white briefs when helped to remove them. Rodney stroked some that was at the head of Sheppard’s cock down its length.

It didn’t take long for Rodney to find a suitable rhythm for Sheppard even with his left hand. Sheppard was less kissing him than panting heavily into his mouth. He held on to Rodney’s waist for support while thrusting up against him.

Sheppard breathed his name as he came hard, hips still thrusting, one hand flat against the wall above their heads, the other still held fast to Rodney’s waist, and mouth still against his own. His cock pulsed as come ran hot down the back of Rodney’s hand.

He decided to stop lying to himself: 0.1% worried, 0.1% annoyed, 0.1% amused, 0.1% appreciative and 99.6% in love.



John breathed hard with his sweaty forehead against Rodney’s. Then he kissed Rodney softly on the lips for a long moment, his damp palm moved across Rodney’s hip and pressed to the small of his back. The other slid down the transporter wall until it settled on the pad, which was now open. Neither broke apart as white light enveloped them.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, John was really pleased that the doors opened to reveal an empty circular room with doors all round it, and not, say, a room full of their colleagues. Not that it made much of a difference now, but he and Rodney were still in varying states of undress.

Rodney hopped into his boxers and raced gleefully through the door to their left.

“Oh hey, this is nice. And look, they’re all interconnected,” He said appearing at another. “Whose place is this?”

“Uh, no one’s, I think. I just had a thought about doing that with you again as soon as possible. But in a big bed this time. And... voila, I guess.” John was just zipping up his pants when Rodney dragged him to the nearest door, a feverish look on his face, similar to the ones that had gotten John turned on so many times before.

“Then you’ll like this room. Oh my god, there is a wrap-around balcony!” Rodney waved about as he essentially skipped out on to it. “Good ol’ Atlantis,” he said, patting the railing fondly.

He turned, leaning back against it to face John, and said seriously, “Please, let’s live here forever and ever.”

John conceded it was very nice, but still raised his eyebrows at Rodney.

“Come on! What more could you ask for? You could roll out of the Really Gigantic Bed and into the transporter. You'd be in the gateroom in 3 seconds flat! And I’ve already picked out an office and it’s going to very difficult for me to let go of it.”

John narrowed his eyes. “We’ll see.”

He briefly wondered what his younger self would do. It didn’t take him long to know he would immediately walk out, bare-footed and half-dressed, to join Rodney out in the salty air, and then later -- but hopefully sooner -- he’d probably have sex with him on the Really Gigantic Bed.

And so John did just that.



“Uh. Will you tell me something?”

“I’ll try, yes.”

“What did you write? In the book, I mean. You don’t have to give me it verbatim or anything... I understand that asking you to recite possibly pages upon pages extolling my countless virtues would be -- ”

“It wasn’t much. Just a few words really.”

“Well, Little John was a smart and resourceful -- ”

“He wasn’t Little John."

“Oh, ha. Shut up. I’m going to sleep now.”

“'Don’t be afraid'”

“Huh. Nice. I think I’m...”



Lying on the Really Gigantic Bed, Rodney mumbled out the rest of his sentence as he settled down further against John’s chest.

John felt more at peace with the world than he had in far too long, as ran his fingers idly through the soft hair at the back of Rodney’s head. Hearing Rodney murmur something that sounded like ‘99.600001%’, he smiled to himself and wondered if Rodney woke up during the early hours of the morning scrambling around for a pencil to write down an equation. He was mostly unsurprised to realise he couldn’t wait to find out.

He thought Rodney was asleep and so was startled when he abruptly propped his head on his hand – the good one, of course; the other was resting heavily on John’s stomach – and looked at him Rodneyily.

John tried to slow the quickened beating of his heart.

“Something else," Anything, was John’s voiceless reply, and he knew it in that moment, as in the others before it, to be indisputably true.

Rodney then blinked drowsily and lay back down.

Musing that the McKay way of talking for talking sake was transmittable through incredibly hot sex, John answered anyway, listening to the sound of the ocean and Rodney’s deep breathing.

“1. Because, yes, I was afraid. 2. Because when you’re excited, Rodney, it’s so damn infectious. And when you’re tired or sad or frustrated or frustrating everyone around you, especially me, I just want to strangle you and then shoot you -- repeatedly, to be on the safe side -- just to keep myself from wanting to just hold you until you stop. 3. Because, couple days ago, Zelenka ordered me to get over myself and do something constructive. 5. Because, last week, Elizabeth told me that the last email she received from Colonel Caldwell suggested that she do everyone a favour and just get you and I married already. 7. Because, ha! You’ll get a kick out of this. I suspect I may have mentioned the MENSA thing on purpose. I have attention issues. 11. Because, obviously, you’re brilliant, but that isn’t the only or biggest reason you light up a room. 13. Because see: conversation outside transporter. 17. Because during one of your regular pre-near-death-freak-outs, when you said that you never found your own Mr Darcy? I don’t know why, but it was at that moment that I realised how much I wanted you. 19. Because I’m bored and irritable at meetings when you’re not there; as opposed to just irritable when you are. 23. Because even the dumb 21-year-old version of myself knew you’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever known. 29. Because I think I may just possibly be falling in love with you. Or because I’m certain I have already. 31...”