Fic: Advanced Ground Fighting Techniques

Title: Advanced Ground Fighting Techniques
Author: xanphibian
Spoilers: general Season Two



Advanced Ground Fighting Techniques

***

Rodney asks everyone on the team. Teyla nods, her eyes welcoming. Ronon pretty much just grunts, but there’s a hint of respect in his gaze. Sheppard – Sheppard refuses, and continues to refuse, even as Rodney begins his training.

Sheppard’s been pulling away from him for about a year now, ever since the war with the Wraith has escalated. The farther the Wraith have advanced, the more Sheppard has retreated into himself. The farther into war Atlantis moves, the more steps Sheppard takes away from them all. Rodney recognizes that this is what he does; the more pressure the Colonel’s under, the harder and colder he gets. However, knowing the why doesn’t stop the absence from feeling like the severance of a limb. But Rodney has the rest of the team; he pushes away the dull pain of losing something he never quite had and begins to train.

From Teyla, Rodney learns balance. Fluidity. It’s a ballet, only with more sweat and bruising. Rodney finds he has a center and learns to use it. It’s an alternating current, and he’s the point of origin.

“Step back, like that, when you see the muscle flex,” Teyla says. After the first few sessions with her, he’s stopped asking questions. He just goes with it. She’s taught him to watch, to wait, and to stay steady. Once, a lifetime ago, he would have tripped over himself just trying to get away. Instead, he observes, biding his time.

Teyla still kicks his ass on a regular basis, but at least now he sees it coming.

From Ronon, he learns to use an opponent’s apparent advantages against him: height, weight, even the surety Ronon possesses. Rodney takes what he’s learned from Teyla about balance and equilibrium and watches Ronon, tries to use those strengths against him. Of course, Rodney’s never able to best him, but Ronon tells him he’s improving.

It’s not just fighting that Teyla and Ronon teach him, though. There’s meditation – which, honestly, Rodney doesn’t get, but they tell him it’s part and parcel of the whole training thing. It’s hard not to think; they’re still working on that.

“Your greatest strength is your mind, Rodney,” Teyla says. Rodney hates that. Hates her corny proverbs. Your greatest strength is always your greatest weakness.

He takes what he learns through meditation, this emptying of his mind to nothing but the here and now, and applies it to fighting. He’s doing it, slowly, but it scares him. His mind is all he’s had his whole life. He tries to explain it to them, and Ronon repeats what Teyla has said already. “You can’t think. You react. Push. Then push more. If you’re in a fight for your life, you can’t use part of your mind to be calculating ... whatever it is you think about. Don’t think about the city. Don’t think about anyone else. Let it go. Fight.”

It’s probably more than Ronon’s ever said to him all at once, so Rodney figures it’s important. He takes the words, picks them apart in his mind, analyzes them for all potential worth.

Session after session, Teyla reminds him. “Do not think, Rodney.”

Ronon says, “Push through it. Let it go. Stop thinking. React.”

After months of training, they call in volunteers. They’re military, mostly, and they smirk at Rodney, knowing he’ll be easy to defeat. Rodney has no illusions, but he vows to give them a hell of a fight before going down painfully.

Somehow, though, while learning defensive moves from Teyla and Ronon, he’s also learned some offensive moves as well. He’d never used them during training, but as he spars with the Marines his body seems to automatically move from one approach to the other. He realizes -- after the second round -- that this is something they taught him without his notice.

He beats the first Marine. He thinks maybe the guy was just too surprised, too sure of himself to notice that Rodney isn’t the same out-of-shape scientist that stepped through the wormhole.

He doesn’t have the same advantage over the second. This one is new, just off the latest transport from Earth, and has no preconceptions. Rodney fights, the Marine fights, and the Marine wins. Not before Rodney gets some good licks in first, though.

The third and forth round go a lot like the second, back and forth, Rodney surprising himself with what he can do, but ultimately losing.

Push, push, push, he thinks to himself. If he were offworld, if this were real, it could mean his life. It could mean Ronon’s life, or Teyla’s. It could mean watching Sheppard die again, and that’s something he’s not willing to do if he can help it. Even though they’re nothing like friends, not like they used to be.

Fifth round, and he’s pushing so hard, blocking everything out. He’s not thinking, he’s reacting, just they way he’s been taught.

It ends with Rodney standing over the Marine, his foot wedged in the guy’s throat, and Teyla’s voice breaking through the haze.

“Rodney, that is enough!”

He backs off, babbling apologies, but the Marine grins, rubs his neck, and offers his hand. Rodney helps him up, still saying, “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Everybody who stayed behind to watch shakes Rodney’s hand, but he’s so numb he barely notices.

After, Teyla smiles mysteriously and bends her head towards him. Ronon nods as well, and claps him on the shoulder.

Rodney leaves the training room in something of a daze.

***

Teyla and Ronon stand back to back, and Rodney moves into position behind Sheppard. Their weapons have been taken, and there’s nothing between themselves and the natives – Wraith worshippers, it’s clear by this point – but their guts and their fists.

“Get down, Rodney!” Sheppard orders, but there’s an attacker coming close, and all Rodney can do is react.

Poise, parry, thrust, just like he’s been taught. He grabs the rudimentary spear – just a long, pointed staff, really – from the now-unconscious native, and knocks another attacker down, a quick jab to the nose with the blunt end of his ‘spear’.

“Fuck, McKay, run,” Sheppard says, trying to grab Rodney’s new weapon.

“Get your own,” Rodney snarls, pissed as hell that he’s doing his best, just trying to do his part, and this is all he gets. He almost misses the next angry native, but sees him out of the corner of his eye just in time, aiming at Sheppard’s head with a blunt axe.

Rodney’s aim is a little off when he turns and thrusts up at an angle, and the assailant gets a spear through the throat instead of his chest. Rodney freezes. He hears a gurgle and it’s like tunnel vision; all he can see is the gush of blood running out of the man’s mouth and out of his neck, down the spear, down and down until it’s warm and wet all over Rodney’s hands. He doesn’t know which falls first, the body or the spear, and Rodney’s just standing there, looking down in shock.

“Push!”

Rodney turns his head slowly. Ronon is fighting off someone but somehow he’s looking straight at Rodney.

“Push through it. Push!” Ronon says, and Rodney finally gets it.

His stomach still lurches from the sight of the blood, but he steels himself against it. If – when – they get out of this alive, that’s when he can have his breakdown. Not now. Not when his team is under attack and he has to do everything he can to stay alive. To keep them alive.

Later, when the four of them are running through the gate, caked with blood and sweat and mud, Rodney lets out a whoop of joy. Teyla gives him a calm and knowing smile. Ronon wraps an arm around him, his comrade in arms, and gives a brief squeeze.

Sheppard glares at him and gives him a vicious shove. “What the fuck was that?” He’s inches away from starting a fight in the gateroom.

Rodney wants to shoot back, full of snide, egotistical anger, That was me saving your life! but something in Sheppard’s eyes stops him. Underneath all that sharp fury is something that looks like fear. Sheppard turns and stalks off without another word.

Rodney tries not to care, because they’re all alive, and that’s what matters most.

He’s late to the mission debriefing because he’s busy scrubbing his hands clean.

***

His dreams change slowly over time. They become sharper, more horrifying, more real. Rodney’s never dreamed in color before, at least not that he recalls, but now there’s blue like drowning and fury-green. And always, his dreams are drenched in blood the color of cherries. It’s not the colors that wake him, though. It’s the feeling of futility. The further along in his training he gets, the weaker he is in his dreams. Fear permeates his nights: fear of failure, fear of powerlessness. And so he works harder, pushes farther, until his body and mind ache with it and he can sleep the sleep of the dead.

He starts to run. He hates running, but he does it because he has to. He pushes himself a little further, and further still, because one day it might mean his life. Or their lives. Ronon’s right; he can’t stop to think. Thinking is his biggest obstacle. Your greatest strength can be your greatest weakness. So he pushes through. He runs, and his feet pound out a rhythm he’s never heard before.

Ronon notices he doesn’t get as winded anymore, and gives him that nod of satisfaction. Teyla smiles, and then works him harder with the sticks.

Sheppard doesn’t seem to notice anything at all. Rodney feels closer than ever to Teyla and Ronon, and he’s never felt farther away from John.

At mealtimes, when he’s not in the lab, he shares a table with Teyla and Ronon. ‘Breaking bread’ never meant much to him before, but now he understands the intimacy of it, a meal with those who are his friends, his teammates.

Sometimes, he sees Sheppard in the mess, but only from across the room. Rodney knows when he’s stuck in the lab, Sheppard eats with Teyla and Ronon, but when Rodney walks in, he never stays. Just smiles politely, grabs his food, and takes off.

“Rodney, are you feeling all right?” Teyla asks. Her eyes flick to the door where Sheppard is leaving.

Rodney shrugs and Teyla gives him a knowing look.

“We training today?” Ronon asks.

Teyla nods. “I think that would be wise.”

Rodney wonders what he ever did without the two of them.

***

The missions don’t get easier with Rodney’s hard-earned abilities; they’re harder. Maybe it’s because he recognizes the dangers more easily. Maybe it’s because the planets they visit are getting more and more hostile.

Rodney still can’t mask his emotions the way the others do. There’s terror, and there’s nausea, and Ronon sneers and Teyla lifts her eyebrow and Sheppard – well, Sheppard is Sheppard, and there’s no knowing what the hell he’s feeling or thinking until he moves into action. It’s one more way Rodney doesn’t measure up, one more way he can be a liability. He needs to work on the emotion thing, because he doesn’t want his panic to be the thing that eventually kills them all.

He’s tired and his muscles ache from being stretched out and pulled on the last mission, when he came a little too close to dying. There’s still rope burn around his wrists that needs treating. But a little pain isn’t going to stop him from pushing, because things get worse, and the next planet might just kill him outright instead of playing with him until he’s rescued.

So, again, he runs.

He’s running alone, in an empty part of the city. Slowly the adrenaline kicks in and all he hears is his heart, feet, and breath. His mind plays a little background music, too, so that he’s running to lyrics now, break on through to the other side, break on through to the other side, break on through, break on through, over and over until the words and the beat are a part of him. He hates The Doors, never got the appeal, really, but he’s heard the song and somehow, it fits.

It’s what he’s doing, after all. Pushing, breaking through, running farther and faster and harder. He still hates running, but it’s a good release.

When he gets back to his quarters, Sheppard’s there, waiting for him. It’s such a shock to see him that Rodney momentarily forgets how to formulate words.

“Rodney,” Sheppard begins, and that snaps him out of it.

“Get out,” Rodney says. He’s sweating still, and a shower and sleep are all he wants.

“We need to talk.”

After this last mission, Rodney fills in. After I almost got killed. “Since when do we talk, Colonel?”

Sheppard looks pained. “Things are different now.”

“You’re different now,” Rodney mumbles, but Sheppard hears him.

“We both are.”

Shower forgotten, Rodney sits on the bed, not too far away from Sheppard. “I really don’t get you. We used to be ... I don’t know. Not this.”

“I remember,” Sheppard says, and for once, that ice around him seems to crack, just a little, and Rodney can hear a little bit of regret in his voice.

“I used to think ...” that I could love you. That we were building something.

“We’re at war.” Sheppard says it like that’s the answer to everything.

Rodney wants to smack him. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been at war since our first weeks here. What the hell has changed?”

“Stop pushing, Rodney. I just came by to tell you ...”

“What, you’re sorry for being an ass?”

Sheppard runs a hand over his face. “I have to be strong, Rodney. I can’t afford to get ... I have all this to ...” He lets out a long sigh. “Fuck. I wanted to say I’m sorry for everything, but I’m not. This is the only way I know how to deal, okay?”

“You don’t have to shoulder every bit of responsibility. You have a team. You have me. Or you did, until you pulled away and started acting like robo-warrior.”

“Rodney ...”

“I can’t even see who you are any more, John,” Rodney says. It’s a slip, using Sheppard’s name, but he can’t help it. It’s personal.

“This is who I am.”

Rodney stands up, paces the room. “The hell it is! This ... this person you’re trying to be, the one who stands up against everyone and doesn’t let anyone close, the man who ... who takes on everything and doesn’t ... It’s not you.”

John stands, too, and walks toward the door. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Fuck,” Rodney says, and he reacts, pushes, doesn’t think. He’s got John pinned against the wall, his elbow bent so he can keep him there with his wrist to John’s throat. “No. You came here to talk, we’re going to talk. God knows you won’t give me another chance.”

John glares at him. “Let me go.”

“No,” Rodney says, just as stubborn. “You’re gonna tell me what you have against me fighting. Training.”

“Let me go.”

“Answer me!”

John struggles, but amazingly, Rodney keeps him in place. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s got that good a hold, or because John doesn’t want to hurt him.

“Fine. Back off and I’ll tell you.”

Rodney nods once and releases him. “Talk.”

“You’re a scientist,” John says. He doesn’t look at Rodney. He’s focusing on something over Rodney’s shoulder, maybe. Rodney knows all about defensive strategies, and he knows this for what it is, even if he’s not sure what there is to be defensive about. John takes a breath. “When we came here, you were ... you. And I was sent to protect you ... you, as in, the scientists. The civilians. That’s what the military is here for, and you shouldn’t have to ... you never signed up for fighting or shooting or killing. That’s my job.”

“It’s too late for that, John. Get over it.”

“You should never have to ...”

“But I do have to, Colonel! You said it yourself, we’re at war. Do you think the Wraith or their allies are going to stop and say, ‘Hmm, okay, you’re military, we can fight you, but no, you’re a civilian, we’ll leave you alone?’ It doesn’t work like that. It’s never worked like that.”

“You killed someone, Rodney.”

Rodney shrugs, looking down. “I’ve killed a lot of people.” But just saying the words puts the taste of bile in his mouth.

“Fuck, Rodney, look at me,” John says, holding Rodney’s face with one hand. “I saw you. You watched that man die, saw the blood, and ... I don’t ever want to see that look on your face again. That’s the kind of thing I’ve been dreading from the beginning.” But it’s more than that, or he would have been coming to Rodney after that mission, not this last one.

Rodney grabs John’s wrist and doesn’t let go. “It’s too late. It’s happened. And it’s going to keep happening. I saved your fucking life, John. Are you saying you’d rather die than watch my delicate sensibilities be offended?”

John looks away, his mouth twisting. “You shouldn’t have to ...”

“No, I shouldn’t. I should be spending my days and most of my nights in the lab with my fellow geeks, increasing efficiency or playing with my laptop. But I don’t have that choice anymore, just like you were never given the choice to lead us. No one told Elizabeth what she’d be getting in to, coming out here. Teyla and Ronon never knew, either. None of us did. We’re at war, and that means doing shit we wouldn’t ordinarily do.” Rodney looks down at where he’s still holding John’s wrist, so tight it’s probably going to leave a bruise. “It doesn’t mean you have to completely pull away from me.”

“I don’t know any other way.”

Rodney stares at John’s face, knowing this man – his friend, no matter what -- can be just as warm as he can be cold and unforgiving. “Don’t you ever just want to break?” he says.

“I can’t.” John leans closer.

“How about bend?” Rodney whispers. “Can you bend a little?”

John doesn’t answer, but the mask slips, just a bit, and Rodney sees what he can’t say. I’m afraid to. I don’t want to lose control.

“You don’t have to do this alone, John.”

“Zelenka to McKay.”

Rodney doesn’t want to answer, not when they’re both this close to something that might change this whole fucked up situation. But Rodney has responsibilities, too, and this is at the top of the growing list. He lets go of John and taps his comm. “McKay here. What’s the emergency?”

“Power outage in section fourteen.”

“I’m on it. McKay out.” Rodney gives John one long look. “Later?”

John nods, and swallows. Rodney’s on his way out the door when he hears John call out, voice low, “Maybe we should train together sometime.”

Rodney turns, slowly, and smiles. It’s an offering of peace and mending, all in one. “We can do that,” he says. “Just don’t get too pissed off if I kick your ass, okay?”

John snorts. “Right, McKay. That’ll be the day.”

On the way to section fourteen, Rodney remembers exactly what made him think he could love John Sheppard in the first place.

***

“Something has changed,” Teyla says the next day. They’re sparring, and Rodney’s grinning. He’s gotten in a few good licks, push, react, poise, parry, thrust, and Teyla stops. “Rodney, you are doing very well today. Have you been practicing on your own again?”

“Nope,” Rodney says, grabbing a towel and mopping his forehead. “I guess I’m just in the zone.”

“The zone?” Teyla asks, and Rodney shrugs.

“I’m having a good day.”

“Yes, you are,” Teyla admits, and touches her forehead to his.

“My turn?” Ronon asks, pushing from against the wall. Rodney grins at him, ready for the next round.

“I think it’s my go.”

The three of them turn, and there’s John, sauntering into the training room as if it’s something he does every day. Rodney’s grin widens, because this is exactly how he’s pictured it: John walking in, that lazy smile on his face, joining them because he belongs and not because it’s something he has to do.

Rodney looks over at Teyla, who is suppressing a smile of her own, and at Ronon, who doesn’t bother to hide his own grin.

“Need a warm-up?” Rodney says.

“For you, McKay? Hell, you are the warm-up,” John teases, and god, it’s so good to hear that in his voice again.

“I will warn you, Colonel,” Teyla says lightly, “Rodney is in ‘the zone’ today.”

John’s smile widens, and there’s a light in his eyes that Rodney hasn’t seen in so long he’s nearly forgotten what it looks like. “Is that so?”

“Kick his ass, McKay,” Ronon says.

They circle each other, and Rodney thinks, This is going to hurt. But he remembers that first Marine he sparred with, and that element of surprise. Maybe Sheppard will be surprised, too.

Poise. Rodney centers himself.

Parry. He dodges the first blow. And the second. He continues to circle, bounces a little on his feet, keeping himself moving, mindful of his balance.

Thrust. John’s surprised when the first blow comes at him, and he moves, but not quickly enough. Rodney’s fist glances off his shoulder.

John’s eyes narrow, and Rodney thinks, Oh shit, oh shit!

“Push!” Ronon says.

That’s right, don’t think. React. Push. Break on through.

It’s nothing but a dance after that. Rodney gets some good hits in, and so does John. It’s going to hurt like a bitch later, but Rodney doesn’t even feel it. He’s reacting, pushing, and he only barely hears Teyla and Ronon’s voices reminding him of what to do. He’s focused on the whoosh of John’s breath and the flex of his muscles.

Rodney has no idea how long it lasts, but it ends with John pinning him to the mat, elbow to his chest, legs pushing the rest of him down. Rodney can’t gain any purchase, and he knows it’s over.

He knew he had no chance of winning, none whatsoever, but pride bubbles up inside him at the sight of John panting, face flushed red from exertion. Rodney made him work for it, and that’s enough for now.

Rodney takes the hand John offers and gets to his feet. They’re both a little battered, and there’s a smear of blood on John’s lower lip. Rodney wonders how bad he looks himself, but he doesn’t really care that much. John’s grinning at him, satisfaction in his eyes, and Teyla and Ronon are gathered around him too, and for a moment, it’s the four of them, just the way they’re supposed to be.

***

Next day, at the mission briefing, Rodney and John are both sporting black eyes, but for once the meeting isn’t full of tense, this-is-business silence. Elizabeth looks tired, but Rodney hears the relief in her voice when she teases them about boys being boys.

Rodney looks over at John, who’s rubbing his jaw and smiling a little to himself, and thinks, yeah, he’s back.

It’s a trading mission, and for once the natives aren’t restless. They’ve been to this planet before, and they’re welcomed again. More so this time because, as they soon learn, trading with other planets has become more and more difficult as former partners have either fallen to, or in with, the Wraith. The planet has survived mostly because of the caves about half a kilometer from their village, the stone walls of their hideaway filled with a natural ore that prevents Wraith sensor scans from picking anything up.

There are games and a feast in the team’s honor, followed by storytelling around a bonfire. Teyla and Ronon are entertaining a group of children with myths from their childhoods. Rodney’s heard most of them before and wanders off after a while. He hasn’t seen Sheppard – John – in about an hour, and he’s wondering what kind of trouble he’s gotten into.

He finds John on the far side of a field, sitting on a boulder with a flask of native wine, staring up at the sky. Rodney sits beside him in silence.

For the first time in probably a year and a half, the silence between them is comfortable. John offers him the flask, and Rodney takes a long drink. He’s had plenty already, at the feast and after, and he’s sure John’s feeling just as wine-warm as he is.

“What are you looking at?” Rodney asks after a while.

“The stars.”

Rodney rolls his eyes, because yeah, sure, the stars. “What do you see in them?”

“On Earth I knew all the constellations. Something my grandpop taught me when I was a kid. I don’t have that here, so I kinda have to make up my own.”

Rodney doesn’t point out that the scientists on Atlantis have already done all that, because this seems to mean something to John. “Show me?”

John bumps Rodney’s shoulder, and then settles against him a little. Leaning, almost, and Rodney can feel the warmth of him through their clothes.

“See the one in the middle? That’s Atlantis.”

Rodney frowns and looks where John’s finger is pointing. “All I see are a bunch of stars.”

John laughs. “Didn’t you ever lie on your back in the summer when you were a kid and watch the clouds? Try to figure out what kind of shapes they made?”

Rodney didn’t, but he doesn’t say this. He understands what John’s telling him. “Okay, point it out to me. Pretend I’m completely ignorant.”

“That brightest one, at the top, that’s ... well, the top. And then the line goes down, and then the rest are spread all around the line. It’s the center spire, and the others are the city itself.”

Rodney squints, and the stars are fuzzing and smearing across the sky, and suddenly he can see the lines. He doesn’t know how he didn’t see at first, it’s so clear. “Yeah. Atlantis. You’re right.”

John bumps him again playfully, and Rodney wonders how much wine he’s had. “What do you see?”

“Me?” Rodney asks. He’s just stalling, though, and he searches through the sky for something, anything. And then, there. “Puddlejumper.”

“Where?”

Rodney could just point, he knows this, but instead he puts his cheek right next to John’s, puts a hand on the other side of his face, gently, and moves John’s head so that he’s lined up just right. “There.” He lets go, and turns to look at John. But John isn’t looking at the sky anymore; he’s looking straight at Rodney.

“I see.”

Rodney swallows. “You’re not even looking.”

John smiles, just a little. “I’m looking,” he says, and brings one hand up to cup Rodney’s cheek.

Rodney can smell John’s breath, wine-sweet and ghosting over his face. “You see?”

“Yeah,” John says, and leans in. It’s a dizzy kind of kiss, hungry and almost not-real, like a dream Rodney’s had a million times. Only this time, he doesn’t wake up.

It’s interrupted by the high pitched sound that only comes from one thing. They both look up in time to see a Wraith dart pass over them on its way to the village. They freeze for a second, and then John’s yelling at Ronon and Teyla over his radio to take cover, that the fucking Wraith are coming, and Rodney’s running towards the village because it’s his team.

“McKay, go back to the gate!” John says. “I’ll get them out, you go!”

“Fuck that. You need me,” Rodney says.

“McKay,” John says, and his voice is hard again, his face implacable, all Colonel Sheppard again, trying to take everything on himself. Rodney’s not letting that happen again.

“Don’t even try to pull that shit with me, John,” Rodney says, and he’s pushing, and pushing, because that’s what he has to do.

”McKay, Sheppard, we’re taking the villagers to the caves.” Ronon says over the comm. Rodney can tell by his voice that he’s running already.

“We’ll meet you there,” Rodney answers. He glares at John. “We’ll go around the village and wait the darts out with the rest of them.”

John nods tersely, and they make their way around, avoiding open spaces. Rodney runs, break on through, and doesn’t fall behind.

***

“How many were taken?” Elizabeth asks.

“Only about a dozen,” Ronon says.

They saved the rest. The few minutes of warning from John and Rodney was enough time to get most of them to the caves; they waited them out for hours until the darts finally gave up and left. It’s a small victory, but it is a victory, and Elizabeth is sure to tell them this.

As they leave the debriefing, Rodney stops John. “You coming to breakfast with us?”

That façade cracks, just a little. John shakes his head. “Not right now. I’ll see you later.”

Rodney stands in the hall and watches him go. It’s not easy, because by now his instincts are always telling him to push, but he knows right now it’s not what John needs. What he needs is a little time to himself, and Rodney’s going to give it to him.

He can push later.

He knows Ronon and Teyla can tell he’s thinking while he eats, but they know him well enough by now to let it go. He’ll talk to them later, if he needs to. He doesn’t think he will. He waves goodbye when he’s finished, and gets a shower and a power nap.

By the time lunch rolls around, he figures he’s given John enough time to think. He grabs two meals from the mess and goes to John’s quarters.

John doesn’t open the door at first, but Rodney’s nothing if not stubborn. Plus, it doesn’t take a whole lot of tinkering to get the door open, no matter what John’s told the lock to do.

“You’re a pushy bastard,” John says when Rodney walks in, but there’s no heat in the words. Rodney relaxes a little.

“Brought you lunch. Figured you’d be hungry, since you skipped breakfast.” He puts the food on the table and walks over to John, who’s sitting on the bed, facing away from him.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Are we gonna talk about it?” Rodney asks. “The less we talk, the more trouble we’ve had. I don’t feel like going another year or so without you speaking to me.” He hopes the uncertainty and – not terror, but close – doesn’t come through in his voice.

John turns and looks at him. “Do we have to?”

Rodney shrugs and sits beside him. “It would probably be best,” he answers in his driest voice.

“You should have gone when I told you to,” John says.

Rodney rolls his eyes. “I am so very not interested in arguing with you about this.”

“Something’s gonna happen to you out there, Rodney, and I’m not gonna be able to ...”

“What, protect me?” He wants to laugh. “You don’t have to protect me, John. That’s part of the reason I’m--”

John reaches out and grabs Rodney’s hand to stop him from talking. “Don’t interrupt me right now.” Rodney nods. John’s breathing harder, like he’s pained to go on. “I was going to say that something’s going to happen to you, and I’m not going to be able to deal with it.”

“Oh,” Rodney says quietly.

John nods. “Yeah.”

“Because you ... care. About me.”

“Right,” John says with a wince. “You could say that.”

Push, push, push, Rodney’s thinking, but he can’t, because this is too delicate for that. He goes for poise and balance instead. “I ... care. Too. But I’m not pulling away from it just because ... because it might mean losing something.”

“It’s a weakness.”

Your greatest strength can be your greatest weakness.

“Maybe ... maybe it’s a strength, too,” Rodney says after a while.

John looks at him, and there it is, weakness and strength, open and honest all at once. “Have we talked about this enough?” he asks, putting a hand on Rodney’s shoulder, running his thumb over the collarbone there.

Rodney smiles. “For now,” he says.

They poise, parry, and thrust, breaking through, pushing, reacting, and then there’s no room for thinking anymore.

end