Part 2

******

Bruises, lots of bruises. This time he walked on his own to the infirmary, damnit,  though Zelenka hovering around him like he was about to fall over at any moment wasn't helping his sunny disposition.

"Ibuprofen, a hot shower and a good night’s sleep," Beckett pronounced. "And I think you'll cheer up when you see your part of the bounty."

Nice. He hadn't even been on base, so no one could trace it back to him.

He hoped Beckett had given Biro a good chunk as well; after all, working for the other side was bound to put her on some people's shit lists. He made a note to look out for anything too out of the ordinary.  Not many people were willing to risk the wrath of the nurses on Rodney's behalf, and he liked her for it.

Sitting on his bed were two --one his, one Rodney's – moderately-sized boxes full of goodies. Beckett must have expanded the plan to include the entire nursing staff. John briefly thought about taking names, before stumbling across a piece of paper titled 'Unwitting Contributors to the Cause'.

Beckett was officially the coolest guy ever.

At the bottom of the list was a hand written p.s. 'I'd planned on doing a majority of his physical therapy myself anyway.'

******

"You didn't have to take me literally," Rodney said, as John lowered himself carefully into the seat.

"No new holes, that's all you said." John stole Rodney's extra pillow and put it between his back and the unyielding surface behind it. "Next time set your parameters more carefully."

Rodney shot him a withering look. "I'll be sure to couch it in some sort of sports metaphor."

"Good thinking." John shot back his own look of disdain. "You know us grunts, we need it spelled out in a language we can understand."

Rodney pulled a face, and rolled his eyes as John checked out the new cast. It looked smaller and lighter and showed a bit more of his hand. It disturbed John that there were still some deep purple marks visible. "How's the hand?"

"Throbbing."

"Ah."

"So…" Rodney fiddled with his blanket. "Who’d you hit on?"

"Oh, come on!"

******

Pretty soon after, Rodney started taking back some of his duties, and Zelenka stopped looking quite so pinched at mission briefings.

The first time John visited and found Rodney surrounded by three different computers, face flushed and left hand tapping steadily, he quickly backed away, savoring the sight from the corner until Rodney rolled his neck about ten minutes later.

Of course, when he spotted John, he nearly dropped the computer. After recovering it by the skin of his fingers, he placed it off to the side and glared. "I'm getting you a cowbell."

"You look happy." John took his usual seat, first moving computer number two to another safe location.

"Carson's letting me work a couple hours a day." Rodney was practically vibrating good cheer.

"Looks good on you," John said smiling, meaning every word because Rodney looked ten times better now that he could do something productive again.

Rodney's eyes softened and the edges of his lips curled up into a smile. John's heart stuttered in his chest and his stomach clenched soundly. The warmth of the smile chilled him and he averted his eyes.

"Sorry, you just…" Rodney faded off. "Sorry."

"S'okay, Rodney." John looked at his feet. "Tell me whose mistake you were fixing when I walked in."

"Someone new, whose name I don't really care enough to learn." Rodney grabbed the nearest computer. "Radek came in here and said that if I didn't take over the project he'd be bald inside three months."

Right, good, normal talk helped. "So basically it was a mercy thing?"

"Right, because if you think Radek with long hair can be scary, imagine him bald."

John snickered and relaxed back into the chair. "When's the physical therapy start?"

******

Three more missions, all short and easy, revisiting the few allies they'd managed to make, and Radek seemed to relax fractionally with each one. They’d all found their places with their new teammate. Radek's sense of humor had taken a while to get used to. It was just as sharp and biting as Rodney's, yet still totally different.

Rodney was working longer and longer hours, and as long as Beckett didn't think he looked overtired, he didn't say anything. John was sure that Rodney had snuck in a fourth computer to play with when the nurses took his regular three away at night.

One day, he wandered in at the appointed time to find Rodney passed out cold, sweat still damp on his forehead, clothes, and bedding. Fear pulsed through him until Beckett approached from his side.

"We removed the hard cast today," Beckett explained. "Did the first round of movements. He'll be more tired for a while."

John nodded absently, eyes scanning the newest device wrapped around Rodney's right arm, showing off even more of his hand.

"I'll sit with him anyway, Doc, in case he wakes up."

Beckett nodded and wandered off to do something doctory elsewhere.

Rodney's hand seemed small and fragile cradled in its black brace. The deep bruising was still apparent, most especially surrounding the dozen or so small scars and incision marks. The fingers that had once looked long and supple were now disproportioned; skinny, with knots of joints sticking out at all angles. The hand itself was still puffy, angry in its coloring.

Rodney made a small sound, wiggling restlessly, and then whimpering in pain as his newly freed hand flopped around.

John unconsciously made quieting noises until the movements stopped and Rodney settled down with one last small moan. Jaw clenched, John buckled down in his seat, and picked up a random computer. Rodney's FreeCell score had been bugging him anyway.

******

The next week or so left Rodney exhausted, which meant that John got to practice a lot of FreeCell. He supposed he could have changed his visiting hours, worked around Rodney's therapy sessions, but the coward's way out took a hell of a lot less energy.

Distance, John thought, might be what they both needed.

However, good luck and easy pickings just weren't the sort of things that came in bulk in the Pegasus galaxy. Hostage situations sucked, especially when he got stuck right in the middle of one.

The nasty looking guard had a thick beefy arm around Radek's neck.

"You want who?" John asked carefully.

"McKay," their leader said again. "He has gained a certain notoriety and we have a position we would like him to fill."

"I am insulted," Radek said into the arm holding him. "Just because I do not scream like a girl in the face of danger, I am of no use to anyone?"

John shook his head, determined not to laugh. "You don't want McKay, he whines like a little girl and has no respect for authority." He pointed at Radek. "Notice how he's not on my team anymore?"

That actually threw the leader off and for a few hopeful moments John believed there would be an easy way out.

Instead they were all locked in a dark cement box for hours, and John knew exactly how many, because this time they’d let him keep his watch, which was both good and bad, because he didn't have to guess at how long they'd been there, but he'd also gotten to count each second as it happened.

They were dragged at gunpoint -- Ronon growling dangerously in the back -- to the main room.

"…I can only help you if you find one of your scientists that actually has more than two brain cells to rub together! He has to understand what I'm saying before he can do it!"

What the hell?

Rounding the corner, John came face to face with a tableau he hadn't actually expected.

Rodney was standing, arm in a sling and held protectively against his chest, yelling full-tilt at a complement of armed soldiers. As John got closer, he could see the gray complexion and sweat gathering on Rodney’s brow. "McKay! What the hell are you doing here?"

Jerking around, Rodney's eyes widened when he saw them, and for one brief moment they lingered on John, full of fright and annoyance. "Saving your asses!"

Taking his cue, John narrowed his eyes and turned all his confusion into anger. "Did it occur to you our asses didn’t need your help?"

One hand on his hip, Rodney shook his head, "Not really, no."

John got a few steps closer, and the fine tremor in Rodney's frame caught his eye. "Your faith in us makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. What exactly did you promise these lunatics?"

"They wanted better generators; I'm telling them what to build." Rodney made an abrupt gesture with his lame hand. "I'd draw them schematics, but I wasn't allowed any electronics, so I'm waiting for them to find someone who isn't a throwback to the missing link, so we can get on with this and I can take a nap."

"Are you insane?" John took another step closer. "Did you explain to them that your injury is barely healed, and that activity like this is stupid, reckless, and idiotic?" He was yelling by then, throat hurting with the volume.

"Of course I did!" Rodney stepped closer as well. "But when they informed me that it was my health or your *life*, the choice was oddly easy." Another step. "Of course, now I'm not so sure!" One more.

Rodney stepped directly into the light, and from his angle, not only could John make out every line of pain in Rodney's face and the hunched posture of someone having trouble standing up, but he could also pick out the textured handle of his .9 millimeter peeking up from behind Rodney's brace.

Oh yeah, that was the sweet stuff.

John pivoted on his heel, bringing him another half-step closer. "Get your guy here, get this insanity over with and let us go."

"You're free," the leader said. John really wasn't trying all that hard to remember the names of people that held him at gunpoint anymore. If it happened more than once, he'd make an effort. "Except for McKay, who will stay behind until he is done."

John decided he might make an exception in this guy's case. "Yeah, and in what universe do you really think that's going to happen?" he argued, taking deep breaths, trying to hold back the real anger.

"This one," the guy said smugly.

Oh that was it, it was on.

"You people make me sick." John threw his hands up in disgust. "Did it ever occur to you that if you asked *nicely* we'd have been happy to help? But no, you've all got anger management issues that you clearly need to talk to someone about." John nodded at Rodney. "And also, a hint for the future, it might be a good idea to tie the hostage’s hands."

Rodney's left hand moved lightening quick, wrapping around the gun. He aimed behind John's head, shooting and then tossing the gun over to John, before he quickly dropped to the ground and hid behind the nearest solid object.

Ronon dove for the fallen weapon of the guard Rodney had shot, while John took aim at the soldiers across the room, trusting Ronon and Teyla to have his six. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zelenka crawl towards Rodney.

It was over pretty quick. Macho leader guy was apparently not so macho without his half-dozen personal guards. He also didn't have the sense not to arrange the meeting someplace far away from the stargate.

A quick threat, and they had their gear in hand and a wormhole home.

Sometimes they had a good day.

Zelenka called his name frantically, and John skidded to his knees in front of a very unhappy Rodney.

"He will need help getting through the stargate," Zelenka said.

John carefully wound an arm around Rodney's waist. "Ready to stand?"

Rodney nodded and pushed up hard. They stood without too much difficulty, but Rodney leaned a great deal of weight on Sheppard's shoulders. Feeling frustrated, angry, and a whole lot of other things best left unexplored, John made his way carefully home.

On the other side of the event horizon, Beckett made it to Rodney's side just before his knees gave out.

John let out a startled "Whoa there! We got you!"

By the time they got him onto the gurney, Rodney was unconscious.

******

Beckett greeted the awaiting crowd that had gathered in his absence with a curt nod. "He's fine, really, he just needs rest."

That seemed to placate most of the onlookers, who wandered off looking worried but distracted. John, Elizabeth, Radek, Teyla and even Ronon stuck around, giving Beckett knowing gazes.

Apparently sensing that he wasn't going to be let go so easily, Beckett leaned casually against the wall and waited expectantly with a patient look on his face.

Not one to disappoint, John did his own bit of leaning on an empty bed. "You're gonna tell us McKay forgot to eat?"

"Don't be silly, Colonel." Beckett shook his head. " Rodney's got a whole lot of special reactions to things, some usually minor, some not so minor ,and some that become major if we're not careful." He motioned for them to follow him as he pushed off the wall. "This was just an example of a minor one becoming a major one, which was then exacerbated when he insisted on going there to help you."

He led them to Rodney's bed, where they could see him sleeping heavily, head turned to one side, lips parted and lax. He’d been changed back into the white, patient hospital scrubs. There were a few extra monitors attached, and it felt like a step back to those days just after the accident, when it seemed like every machine in the infirmary was hooked up to Rodney.

"Don't let the monitor fool you, it's just a precaution," Becket said from behind him.

The steady beep-beep thrummed through John's veins, and he actually felt better watching the lines go up and down, peaks and valleys of evidence that Rodney was fine. "So, what happened?"

Beckett led them back out to the main ward. "Rodney has the occasional strange reaction to a lot of drugs; pain killers and anesthetics being some of the large categories I have to watch out for."

Elizabeth asked, "So that was just a bad reaction to his medications?"

"Not quite," Beckett amended. "Rodney has had several surgeries in the last two months.  One dose of general anesthetic can occasionally throw you for a loop, leaving you with severe muscle cramps or the need for larger amounts of sleep,  as two of the more common events."

The Earthers in the room all nodded, John himself had been under enough to know that occasionally it took a bit of extra effort to shake it off. He assumed the rest of them had had similar experiences.

" I don't have to tell you what long-term exposure to heavy duty painkillers can do to a regular person." Beckett crossed his arms and resumed leaning against the nearest wall. "Rodney's constantly had reactions to most painkillers, ranging from nausea, to overtiredness, to dizziness and dehydration. It varies depending on the category the medication comes from."

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "That would explain why he carries a detailed version of his own medical file around with him. With his own notes attached."

Teyla smiled warmly at the thought. "So he simply did too much too fast?"

That made Beckett's easy façade fade a bit. "It's true, it probably wouldn't have happened, at least to that level of severity if he'd remained here and not gone tap dancing on another planet. However,  from the moment he found out you were late coming back, he started doing too much and then when your captors dialed here and demanded him in return for your life, well, there was no talking him out of it."

Elizabeth turned to face the rest of them. "The argument was well thought out and utterly ridiculous."

John frowned. "How'd he win?" He couldn't imagine Elizabeth giving in so easily.

Elizabeth and Beckett shared a pained look before Beckett answered him. "He promised to blame us for your deaths, and then said he'd go back to Earth, stating he could do the same research there just as well as he could here now. He then followed up with a series of increasingly ludicrous suppositions based on his leaving Atlantis. He was very compelling." Beckett looked upset. John wasn't sure whether it was over the apparent dismal picture Rodney had painted, or over the fact that he had fallen for it.

Elizabeth took up the tale, also making a face. "After we finally agreed, he immediately started trying to talk Carson into giving him several drugs to help him through the ordeal."

Horrified and full of ridiculous visions of the sorts of things Rodney had needed in order to walk through looking as healthy as he had -- and John was using the healthy in a very liberal sense, because Rodney had looked ready to keel over at any moment, John glared at them.

"I stopped shy of the Valium," Beckett assured him. "But there was a massive dose of pain killers to counteract all the possible movement, some stimulants, Compazine, a few other things. I'm fairly sure it’s the cocktail that really slipped him over the edge in the end."

The room's silence felt heavy on John's skin, and he really wasn't trying to give Beckett the evil eye, after all when Rodney was really convinced he should do something, it was awfully hard to stop him. "So he'll be fine?"

"He'll have a nasty hangover and I'm sure his hand is going to be none too pleased," Beckett said. "That was an awful lot of movement, all things considered."

John agreed whole-heartedly. Radek put a hand on his arm.

"Please let me know when he wakes," Radek said. "So that I may tell him what an idiot he is in person."

Beckett smiled. "I'm way ahead of you on that one."

******

Rodney slept for most of that day and the next, waking occasionally to pee, sip water and one time, throw up. John knew this because he had the honor of being there for one of the more spectacular moments that included all three.

Of course, during his most lucid periods, before and after he threw up, Rodney took the time to tell John exactly what he thought of his ill conceived attempts at not getting captured while offworld.

Thinking back, John was pretty sure Rodney had attempted to yell at him *during* the vomiting as well. The twelve-year-old in John thought it was kinda cool.

The adult part of him watched as Rodney remained green looking and exhausted for long hours, not really able to sleep, but barely awake, as the drugs worked their way out of his system.

Thankfully, Elizabeth's rule of thumb was that if you got taken hostage you got a few days of downtime. Not actual days off, as John did actually have a base to run and Lorne was looking ready to organize a mutiny if he shoved off any more of the work on him. Lorne was resourceful and he’d learned not to insult the science divisions. It was possible he could pull it off.

Late during the second night, John eased into the infirmary, feeling Rodney’s recent turn for the unconscious, meant he could visit during a bit of free time. Rodney's coloring seemed to have improved and his arm looked more relaxed. John took the nearby chair and settled in for a couple of hours of FreeCell.

"…oh god…"

The computer jumped in John's grasp as he was startled at the quiet words. He looked up to see Rodney wiping his face with his good hand.

"Rodney?"

Rodney rubbed his eyes with his fist. "Who let the puddle jumper land on my head?"

John grabbed the nearby cup and filled it with water. "I believe the parking spot was your choice."

Sipping carefully, Rodney winced. "Don't remind me. When did I decide that risking my brain like that was a good idea? I'm worth at least two of each of you."

John pursed his lips, mildly annoyed. "Even Zelenka?"

"Possibly only one and half of him," Rodney conceded.

"Next time, have a little faith, huh?" John said, grabbing the computer again and checking his score. "I had a plan."

"Oh really?" Rodney settled back into the bed, looking smug. "What was this plan? Were you going to convince them you should all be friends with a wink and a smile?”

Not one to be outdone, John made himself more comfortable as well. "That was plan B. Plan A involved convincing them you were so annoying it wasn't worth it."

"Oh," Rodney said. "How was that working out for you?"

"Pretty well."

Rodney slid back into sleep after that, and John might have felt the slightest bit guilty, but he got over it. He switched to spider solitaire and settled back in.

He'd just moved on to four suits, when Rodney twitched in his sleep. After no more movement seemed imminent, John went back to the game, only to be interrupted by a small sound; a high-pitched huff, then another, and another. Rodney’s fingers were moving restlessly, eyelids flicking quickly.

"Rodney?" John whispered.

A larger twitch.

"Rodney, wake up." John laid a careful hand in the center of Rodney's chest, feeling the accelerated heart rate under his palm. "Come on, it’s just a nightmare."

Rodney's left hand jumped and covered John's, as his eyes shot open. "John?" His hand squeezed, fingers wrapping around John's palm until he had three of John's fingers trapped between his thumb and forefinger. "John," he said shakily, eyes clearing. 

Staring at their hands, John blinked slowly. "You okay?" His voice was low, maybe a little breathy.

"Colonel." Rodney said quietly, voice back to where it should be. His fingers squeezed again, and John winced, automatically wiggling them for more room. They ended up palm to palm, fingers laced together.

Oh, this was so not good. The warmth of Rodney's hand, calloused and strong was distracting at best. It was the beginning of the downfall of his career and life as he knew it at worst.

"You're still here," Rodney said.

"No I'm not. Figment of your imagination." John stared at their hands, stuck at the image, which sat there in his chest and hurt just a little bit.

"Oh good, hallucinations are a new side affect." Rodney's fingers shook, his thumb making little circles in the back of John's hand.

John closed his eyes, his head automatically turning away. Rodney's thumb continued circling, small tight circles that wound deep inside John.

"I'm sorry," Rodney whispered, not stopping.

"Stop being sorry," John said just as quietly. "You're not the one who keeps getting--" He cut himself off; because denial only worked if he didn't acknowledge something was there.

"But I do." Rodney squeezed again.

John allowed himself one quick caress of his own, and one last squeeze, before straightening his fingers, stretching them wide to dislodge Rodney's grip. "And that's maybe the best reminder yet."

Rodney let go without too much resistance. "Reminder of what?"

"Of why this--" he gestured between them, finally looking Rodney in the eye, "shouldn't be."

Rodney looked at him sadly. "I remember. Friends."

"Friends," John agreed.

******

After that, there was no more touching. By silent agreement, they stayed at least three feet apart, and perhaps childishly, John managed to never actually hand Rodney anything either.

John continued visiting often, because now his pattern had been well and firmly established, and it'd be more risky to change it. Rodney was slowly regaining movement. His schedule had changed again, and now John's usual visiting time landed at the tail-end of Rodney's solo exercises.

Watching the small silver stress ball being squished inside Rodney’s right hand was strangely hypnotic. Bits of silver peeked out from under shaking fingers, expanding outward in small increments. After he was finished, a nurse would come along to encase the hand in a large mitt type thing that warmed the sore muscles.

Rodney filled the time with chatter about the inhabitants of Atlantis. Apparently he was sleeping in gossip central, and the nurses didn't pay attention if they thought you were asleep.

John found the small amount of actual information helpful on some level. Even knowing what gossip was floating around came in handy on occasion.

Two weeks into their new arrangement, Rodney glared at him in severe agitation "So, apparently Radek is sleeping with Teyla."

John felt he should have been drinking something so it could have come out his nose.

Rodney pointed an accusing finger at him. "Aren't you supposed to know about these things?"

"What?' John asked. "It's not like they  got down and start doing it right in front of me."

Rodney pulled a face. "And thank you for that image."

John threw the stress ball at him. "It's just a rumor, I doubt it's true."

"What?" Rodney looked offended. "Don’t think a scientist could bag Teyla, Warrior Princess?"

"And thank you for that image." John frowned, attempting to erase the picture of Telya in leather and armor, being followed around by Radek in a long flowing skirt.

"Are you imagining Radek in the red outfit or the yellow?"

Covering his face with his hands, John groaned. "Both." He shuddered. "I hate you."

******

Time passed and John went offworld, got bruised and scraped, and was occasionally almost married off to the chieftain's oldest daughter. He found out Zelenka was indeed sleeping with Teyla, but it was described by Teyla, as something between two warriors who found the stresses of the day to be too much.

John thought that was pretty poetic for fuck buddies. But since they didn't do it offworld, he really didn't care. Someone should be getting some.

Rodney was finally allowed to move back to his quarters and resume a semi-regular schedule. The labs started running a little smoother, and Zelenka was not the least bit insulted when Rodney announced it over dinner one night.

"I do not have the time to do both his job and mine," Zelenka shrugged, and went back to his almost beef.

There was still an obvious lack of stamina, and a laundry list of things that Rodney couldn't do with only one hand. He also started predicting the weather with alarming accuracy.

John occasionally came across Rodney sitting quietly, staring at his computer, wincing as he rubbed at his healing hand. Those times, John carefully stepped back and left.

Thankfully his sleeping had settled after those first weeks of tossing and turning, and he'd been able to grab some solid hours in the intervening months. Usually he was only interrupted by the usual Pegasus dreams and nightmares, with one small blip in the days following The Hand Incident, which he stubbornly ignored.

A quiet knock roused him out of a light sleep. Small emergencies that day had left him tired but paranoid.

Slipping a shirt on, he stumbled around until he managed to get the lights to come up at low. The door slid open and Rodney stood on the other side, looking disheveled and twitchy. "Rodney?" he asked, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Rodney licked his lips and pressed them together, his left hand fidgeting nervously with his right, rubbing at it absently.

"Rodney?" John asked again, already guiding him inside.

The door shut with a quiet whoosh, and Rodney let out a sigh of air. "I don't know why I came here."

John closed his eyes and opened them again, seeing Rodney's pale face looking haggard. He sighed deeply. "What's wrong?"

The silence stretched, and John took a seat on the bed, too tired to continue standing. "You think about it. I'll just be asleep over here."

He’d almost been lulled back down into the warmth and comfort of relaxation by Rodney's unsteady breathing when Rodney suddenly spoke.

"I dreamed about playing the piano," Rodney blurted rapidly.

Cracking his eyes open, John saw Rodney hugging himself tightly, and pacing around the room.

"It's stupid. I haven't played in years." He stopped and looked at John. "I haven't *thought* about it in years."

Sitting up slowly, John threw his legs over the side, and gestured for Rodney to sit down next to him. His weight sank the mattress just enough that they settled against each other, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, side to side.

"I just," Rodney went on. "I suddenly can't imagine never being able to do that again." Shoulders slumped and head bowed, Rodney ran a hand through his hair. "Not the sort of nightmare you’d expect, huh?"

"I dream about never being able to fly again," John told him. "It doesn't take much to get your flight status taken away."

Rodney swallowed. "I never felt… artistic… creative., until I came here," he said quietly, resignation littering his voice. "What if I can never do that again?"

John sighed, too tired to come up with the right words, too caught up in Rodney's slump to know where to start. A decision clicked in his head, and he scooted back into the bed. "Come on, Rodney, let's get some sleep."

"What?" Rodney's eyes widened. "I thought that…" He made an indistinct gesture.

"There’s a moratorium for life altering realizations." John yawned. "Just sleep, Rodney."

Rodney nodded jerkily. He slipped his shoes off and crawled under the covers, laying stiffly, his back against John's front. Slipping an arm over Rodney's side, John’s hand slid neatly into the Rodney's waiting one. He hooked his chin over Rodney's shoulder. "Just sleep," he said again.

Rodney's muscles became lax against his as he relaxed in small increments, and John warmed up in places all over. He took a deep breath and felt his eyes grow heavy, sleep pulling him under to the sounds of Rodney's careful breathing.

******

Go on to part 3