The first two Chapters can be found here: http://home.arcor.de/macx/sga/sgamain.html
 
 
 

III: In Transit
 

It was nearly dark.

Some scattered emergency lights were on, but they were not meant to brighten the darkness. He moved carefully across the room, all senses alert, and then he heard it. It was a barely perceptible noise, so soft that he nearly missed it. Something had scraped over the metal floor. He tensed, freezing in his steps, listening hard. The sound didn't return. Carefully he moved on, muscles coiled to the snapping point, senses tuned to the slightest noise out of the ordinary. The murky darkness around him didn't reveal anything.

Another scraping, then a clicking noise could be heard and he froze again.

Suddenly something slammed into his side. He was flung to the right and barely managed to roll around before something struck the ground where he had just been. He tried to get out of the way of his attacker who gave a growl of anticipation of the kill, but was hit by another blow, which left him half lying, half sitting on the floor. His attacker gave a rumble.

He jumped up, but was caught in a strong grip. Still he wasn't ready to give in and the triumphant gleam in the dark eyes gave him extra strength. He was smaller than the other and he used it. He kicked hard and scored a hit. The other gave a surprised grunt of pain and his grip loosened.

John Sheppard managed to roll aside and came to his feet, looking for a weapon. He saw something not far away and made a dash for it. It was a metal staff and he whirled around, brandishing his weapon. Teyla had trained him well, but his opponent wasn't really impressed. His blow was caught in strong hands and he was suddenly pulled toward the taller man and unceremoniously pushed hard against the wall.

Something sharp touched his throat. "That," a rough voice whispered, "was a mistake."

He grimaced. "Yeah. Figured that."

"And it wasn't your first," the voice continued. "You were careless entering this room unprepared."

"I was prepared!" Sheppard protested.

"You weren't. Expect the unexpected. A warrior always has to be on his toes," Ronon growled.

"Speaking of which…" John rasped, gesturing at Ronon to let him go.

Ronon's lips creased into a wry, sarcastic smile and he dropped him. Sheppard dusted himself off. Well, he might have lost again, but at least he had done better than throughout the other training sessions. Most of the time he ended up with more bruises, though he didn't always lose. Ronon was good, especially in a hand to hand fight or with his gun, but Sheppard was agile and he learned fast. As long as he didn't let Ronon get a grip on him, he had a chance. The Satedan took these training sessions seriously and he never held back.

"At least you didn't get me the first time," he muttered.

Ronon's amusement grew. "I gave you a chance."

Sheppard grimaced. "How very kind of you." He wiped sweat off his face. "I need a shower."
Ronon smirked, but he didn't comment otherwise. They returned to the more populated areas in silence, parting ways when Sheppard headed for his own place. It was still the middle of the day and he knew he wouldn't find Rodney anywhere near either his or McKay's quarters yet, if at all. His lover was hip-deep in the data Ezra Standish had unearthed, and it was his baby right now.

John smiled.

Well, he would get some snuggling later.

* * *

John broke off the kiss and let his head fall back against the wall, trying his best to get oxygen back into his lungs as Rodney’s hands rested on his chest. Closing his eyes he willed his emotions down a little, feeling Rodney’s presence soothingly caress his own.

The past few days had been bad, physically as well as emotionally. An off-world mission had gone horribly wrong and Sheppard had lost one of his men, another had been injured. He himself had come away with scrapes and bruises when he had pushed Rodney through the Stargate and come tumbling after him. Ronon and Teyla hadn't shown a scratch, much to John's continued grumbling about this being unfair.

Sheppard had been examined by Carson, who had treated the scrapes on his left forearm and told him to rest. There had been no rest because one of Atlantis' generators had blown for no apparent reason, plunging a section of the city into total darkness. Rodney had taken his team to see what was going on.

The whole operation had lasted more than just a quick hour of banging the generator back into shape. Actually, it had been two whole days before John had been able to get his lover on his own again. By now his own batteries were running low and simple contact through the mind link wasn't enough any more.

Ezra had told him that the first year of a bond was apparently critical to their sanity. Sheppard could only agree. The need to touch, to hold Rodney in person, was strong, and while they both knew that a quickie outside their quarters was impossible, some heavy kissing and petting wasn't.
So when Rodney had made it back, tired but very pleased about getting the generator to work again, John had asked for a moment together. They had found it here, away from everyone else.

And the simple contact did wonders for John's mind. He didn’t think he had been this reactive to touch before, but if he had, he had never registered it. Sex had always been a pleasure, he had liked lying together afterwards with his various partners, but this, with Rodney, with the changes in them, was so very different. He could feel the touch as more than a physical sensation. It was a reaffirmation of what they had, and while it had gotten less intense in its expression and need, it was still something vital According to Ezra he would never completely lose it, only become more accustomed to Rodney in every sense of the way.

The next kiss was gentler, deeper, exploring and soothing and so very much them. John let himself fall into the contact while also keeping Rodney afloat in their joined whirlpool of emotions. He spread his fingers and ran them through his lover's short hair, pulling him in closer, deeper, needing this so very much it frightened him sometimes.

//Me too// Rodney whispered, his kisses tapering off, turning into tiny bites.

Sheppard laughed breathlessly, burying his head against Rodney's neck. //I feel like some needy bastard//

//You're not//

There was a faint sound, almost too low to hear, but Sheppard was on alert within a second. He drew back from Rodney's solid form, hand flying to his weapon as he looked around – and met a pair of shocked blue eyes. Behind glasses.

//Oh shit!//

//What?//

Rodney’s reaction had been only a brief second behind his, but he had enough time to watch Kavanagh suck in a breath and whirl around.

//Oh shit…//

//That’s what I just said. Damn!// Sheppard cursed.

//Who would have thought he’d come here?//

This wasn't exactly one of the most popular places. It was outside the main corridors, those usually traveled, and in the two years they had been here, Rodney hadn't come to this place more than twice. First to take a look, the second time with John when he had sought a quiet place to be together.

Now Kavanagh had found them here.

//That doesn’t matter now anyway, does it? He saw us, Rodney. He knows!// John argued angrily.

//And if Kavanagh knows …//

//…he will tell. We need to talk to Elizabeth//

Rodney hesitated. Elizabeth knew about them, but he wasn't comfortable with running to their expedition leader like two kids.

//John?//

Hard eyes met his, the decision already made. There would be no arguing, and if there was, McKay couldn't win.

//We have to face this. Let’s give her a heads up before he comes barging in, complaining about the lack of… whatever, he’ll find something//

Rodney sighed. He knew John was right, but he didn't have to be happy about it. Kavanagh had returned aboard the Daedalus just a few weeks ago and no one had been ecstatic about it. Rodney, as the head of the science department, had agreed to have the man back because they needed good people. Kavanagh was good, but he was also a prick, an asshole, a sonofabitch, a coward and then some. He couldn't stand him personally, but the other physicist did good work.

So far he had worked almost demurely, getting in less quarrels with his fellow scientists than before, and he rarely interacted with anyone outside the necessary. He kept to himself and if Rodney saw something like pain in the blue eyes, it had to be his imagination.

Now Kavanagh had run into them, and he knew shit was about to hit the fan.

* * *

John watched Kavanagh walk into Elizabeth’s office, expression freezing when he noticed who was waiting for him.

"I see," he remarked, lips a thin line.

“Please, Dr. Kavanagh, have a seat. There is something we’d like to discuss with you,” Weir invited him.

Kavanagh shot an unreadable glance into the Colonel's direction, but he sat down. His entire demeanor spoke of wariness, and John couldn’t blame him for it, thinking about the last time he had seen him here. A lot had happened since that unlucky incident and Kavanagh had left again aboard the Daedalus as it had gone back to Earth. Sheppard had hoped never to see him again, but here he was.

//He's a good scientist// Rodney repeated what he had told him time and time again. //Brilliant, actually. If he gets off his high horse, that is//

“Dr. Kavanagh, it seems you were… witness to something…“ Weir started.

“Witness? You could say that. That’s why you called me here? To make sure I keep silent? So, where’s your knife-wielding gorilla then? Not threatening to cut out my tongue should I… slip?”

“Oh please,” Rodney cut in, rolling his eyes, “nobody is threatening anybody here. We're just… asking.”

“Real nicely,” John smiled ferally.

“Oh, I know your ‘real nicely’, Colonel, thank you very much.”

“Dr. Kavanagh,” Elizabeth said softly, catching the scientist’s attention again, “all we ask of you is to keep what you saw to yourself.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Because we asked? Real nicely?” John repeated.

//John!//

//What?// he asked.

//I can stand Kavanagh about as much as you, but if we want to keep this under wraps we should indeed ask real nicely!// Rodney snapped angrily.

//Isn’t that what I just did?//

There was a wave of amusement coming over the bond.

//You, Colonel, just scared the living daylights out of him//

John frowned and studied the scientist, who was bravely trying to hide his fear. But the fear was there. //Huh. Didn’t know I could//

//Believe me, you can. You can be one scary guy//

Sheppard gazed briefly at him, a deep, searching look, and Rodney pushed inquiries away.

//Huh// he murmured only.

John’s full attention snapped back to Kavanagh when the man rose. Blue eyes regarded them and there was something that made John’s instincts stir – he just couldn’t lay a finger on it. The whole scientist's stance was different. It wasn't the arrogant behavior of before, more like he had been shot down and then kicked some more. Sheppard couldn't think of anything they had said that would warrant this kind of reaction. For a moment, Kavanagh's eyes lingered on Rodney, then traveled to Sheppard, only to slide away.

“I'll keep this to myself, don’t worry,” he said, and John frowned slightly.

“And how can we be sure?”

This time the glance was even icier.

“I guess you'll just have to trust me, won't you?”

Definitely off here. Prickly, almost hostile in some regard, icy and controlled, but still… something was niggling John, something was trying to get his attention. His instincts had never been wrong, especially now that he had those of a Kiowata to help.

Kavanagh turned, but stopped before he reached the door, looking back at Rodney.

“I don’t understand you, McKay," he only said, voice without emotional inflection.

"What?" Rodney challenged, eyes flaring.

"Love changes everything, hm?”

O-kay… John straightened, his instincts screaming at him now as he watched the man walk away. He seemed to have lost some of his cockiness.

//John?// Confusion radiated from his lover.

//Well... that went well//

//Not. Kavanagh can make our lives a real misery now!//

//And that’s different from before – how?//

//Hm//

Sheppard still looked at the door, lost in thought, when something poked him in the rib. Rodney. His lover watched him curiously, but didn’t ask any questions.

"I'd like to talk to Elizabeth, ‘kay?"

Rodney's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

//Rodney, please..//

There was a indignant huff. //It's not like I can't get it out of you//

//I know. Just… please?//

//Okay… have it your way. Mr. Secret// Rodney hesitated for a fraction of a second, then added a hopeful //See you later?//

//Later//

John smiled when he felt a fleeting sensation over the bond that he had come to associate with a virtual kiss from his lover, then Rodney walked out.

“I think I'll need some more time getting used to this wordless conversation of yours,” Elizabeth remarked wryly.

“Oh, I have no doubt you’ll adapt. Say, Elizabeth?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have Kavanagh’s file?”

“Sure. Why?”

Sheppard gave her a smile. “I’d like to take a look at it. At least the publicly accessible part.”

*

Two hours and three cups of coffee later John Sheppard’s brows furrowed deep in thought as he read through the file for a second time.

“Gotcha…”

* * *

It was a week after the Kavanagh incident. Rodney was on his way back to his quarters. He had been caught up in science matters and lost track of time. Zelenka had finally given him a kick in the butt to get him to move out of the lab, and Rodney had grumbled all the way to the door. He knew Sheppard was in his room, but he hadn't expected him to sit at his overflowing desk and read something that looked suspiciously like…

“Is that a personnel file?!” //And if it is, it better not be mine!// he snapped.

//I already know yours. And what isn't in your file, I still know// He smirked a little, then held up a sheet of paper. “Kavanagh, Calvin Jason.”

“Why are you sifting through his file?” Rodney looked downright confused. “Looking for blackmail material?”

Sheppard rolled his eyes. “No. Look at this. Did you know Kavanagh’s only twenty eight?”

“Yes. Well no, not really. Comes with the job description,” Rodney had grabbed the file, reading the paragraph John had indicated. “Most scientists are pretty young when they’re good.”

“So you do think Kavanagh is good?”

It got him The Look.

“Please. He wouldn’t be here in the first place if he wasn’t. What am I looking for?”

“This. Kavanagh studied under a professor Miles Armbruster at MIT.”

Rodney nodded. “I know him. We were colleagues for while.”

“Then you know that Armbruster hadn’t published for quite a while. I bet he was getting problems already and not only with tenure. The scientific world doesn’t forgive you if you don’t come up with new papers or articles every few weeks, right? It's your reputation, your tenure, the money…”

“Armbruster has quite the reputation, that’s right. And it’s not every few weeks.” Rodney made a dismissive gesture. "Depends on who you are, what your position is, where you want to go. Some professors publish once a year, but each publication is a bestseller, so to speak."

"Like yours?"

That got him a grimace. "I'm not exactly able to publish Stargate theories and the like on a regular basis. And I've been busy surviving for the past two years!"

//Down, boy. I was only joking//

Rodney shot him a dark look and John gave him a gentle hug over the bond.

“You know what I mean. Anyway, ten years ago he came up with this revolutionary paper all of a sudden, about black holes and their influence on the time-space-continuum or something like that.”

Rodney nodded. “Yes, I remember that one. A rather radical theory he had there. Not proven yet, but I think if you give me some time…”

“It wasn’t his.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t his. He stole it," John repeated calmly.

Rodney blinked. And looked at the file. And blinked some more.

“No way!”

“Sure way. Calvin Kavanagh was a young, impressionable but ingenious student, and he had a real knack for astrophysics, not unlike someone else we both know. He had that revolutionary theory and of course he talked about it.”

“With his professor.”

“No. With the man he loved.”

Rodney stared at him with wide, blank eyes for a whole ten seconds, and John couldn’t help the grin. Who would have thought he could ever render his lover speechless?

“Kavanagh is gay?” McKay finally croaked.

“Yep.”

“And he slept… Kavanagh?? With a teacher?!” His voice rose.

“Yep.”

Rodney groaned and sank down onto the bed, file still in hand. “I so do not need that image.”

“Neither did I. But Rodney, that’s not the point. The oh so renowned professor Armbruster not only slept with his student, he also stole his work. And denied the whole affair afterwards. Who do you think they believed? The renowned professor…"

“…or the little student who claims to have an affair with said renowned professor, so that ... damn… How did you get all that information, by the way?” Rodney asked suspiciously.

John shrugged. “I have my ways, McKay, you have yours. Even out here. There’s a glitch in his file, see? You usually don’t leave university during a semester, do you?”

“Not without a very good reason,” Rodney said slowly. “God, what must he have lost back then... Reputation, credibility … “

Sheppard nodded. “Self-esteem, trust… No wonder he goes by the rules only. It’s the only thing that gives him a feeling of security.”

“And you managed to find this out how?”

A shrug. “At first, pure deduction. Papers and stuff. I called in a favor and got something else that isn't publicly accessible. Someone at the SGC knows it's his work, but the science world doesn't and never will."

"Who knows?" Rodney demanded.

"I think you know her. Colonel Samantha Carter."

"What?"

Sheppard shrugged. "She recommended him for the SGC. I have it from very reliable sources that she was aware of Armbruster's theft. And, Rodney, I think there’s more.”

“More?” Rodney whispered.

“Ever asked yourself why he left Atlantis in such a rush the first time? Only to come back again? Then he left once more… and returned.”

"Well, we called him a mole that second time and Ronon scared him into a dead faint…"

"Not enough reason to actually go. There's more."

“Do I even want to know?”

It was a rhetorical question and Sheppard knew it. So he gave Rodney the last piece of information and he knew it would floor his lover completely.
 
 

Ten minutes later Rodney lay halfway curled up on the bed and groaned miserably. John watched him, aware of the 'don't touch' mode at the moment. Mind links were fun that way. His lover was too miserable to accept reassurance and touches. He would probably bite his head off.

“Good god, John. Now I really have to talk to him.”

“Yep.”

“And what, oh mighty one, made you dig up all this?”

“Love changes everything.”

“Huh?” Rodney turned on his back and gave him a mystified look.

“Love changes everything. That’s what he said.”

Rodney groaned again.

* * *

Kavanagh opened his door and Rodney saw the surprise on his face, quickly quenched by sarcasm.

“You? What now, McKay? Come to ‘convince’ me?”

“No. Can I come in?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Kavanagh shrugged and stepped aside, letting Rodney in.

“What do you want, McKay?”

Rodney pushed the laptop onto the table in front of Kavanagh, wordlessly requesting him to take a look. Something flickered through Kavanagh’s eyes as he glanced at the screen, looking back at Rodney defensively.

“It’s the Armbruster Theorem. I know it. What about it?” He sounded cold, challenging, biting, ready to kick Rodney out if he made a wrong move.

“It’s fucking brilliant, that’s about it.”

“So?”

“I bet you know it. Inside out?”

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously and the pale face was a mask. “What are you implying, McKay?”

“Why did you never complete it?”

For a moment there was breathless silence, then Kavanagh blurted “What?!”

“This thing is brilliant, Kavanagh. I know the man. Armbruster could never have come up with something like it! But you could, couldn’t you?”

This time the flicker was more pronounced when Kavanagh looked at everything but him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.

“Yes, you do. You loved him, didn’t you?" Rodney ruthlessly drove his point home. He noticed the further loss of color to Kavanagh's skin. "And he stole your work, the one that would have opened you doors you never even dared to dream of, and claimed it as his. And when you got over your initial shock and demanded answers, explanations, something, he threw you out. Betrayed your trust both as teacher and lover. Nobody ever believed you, and you had to leave MIT, go to NC State university, and start all over again. Did he threaten you?”

Kavanagh had become as white as a sheet, listening to Rodney’s words, and for the first time since he knew him Rodney felt something like sympathy for the other man. And he hadn’t even dealt the final blow yet.

Kavanagh didn’t answer the last question, but Rodney didn’t really need it. He had known Miles Armbruster, had even worked with the man, but he had never really liked him. Rodney was a scientist with every fiber of his being and was of course proud of his accomplishments. He didn’t really need other people’s praise or recognition. He had a healthy enough ego, as many could attest to, and he knew he was good.

Armbruster had craved it, and for a moment Rodney could see a younger version of Calvin Kavanagh, a little susceptible, impressionable and wide-eyed, hanging at the professor’s lips for every word and thus giving him exactly what he wanted – with a little extra at the side.

Armbruster had used this young man, had made him his toy, his fuck toy. Rodney held no illusions that it had been anything other than that. Armbruster used people, then threw them away. He had done that with Calvin Kavanagh, and it had destroyed what Rodney thought might have been a brilliant mind and a probably much more likeable personality.

“Calvin,” he said softly, wincing himself when he saw his colleague flinch. He had never addressed him that way. “You loved him.”

Kavanagh hesitated longer this time before nodding once.

“And love changes everything?”

“It does,” he muttered, not meeting Rodney's eyes.

“And you never did it again. Until… now.”

This time Kavanagh did look at him and Rodney got the distinct impression of looking at a caged animal. Blue eyes behind glasses, wide with – fear? – hands clenched, slightly trembling… jeezus. The man was at the end of his emotional rope and it was showing. He was about to snap, and run, and never come back.

“I’m sorry,” Rodney whispered, “I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

It didn’t sound at all like the Kavanagh he knew. It sounded shattered, devastated.

Broken.

“Did you come back because…?”

Kavanagh swallowed dryly. “Yes. And I will leave again because.”

“Don’t," Rodney heard himself say before his brain started thinking. "Calvin, there's a whole world out there. A whole galaxy!“

“No! I can’t!" Kavanagh exclaimed. "Not again. I made mistakes, I paid for them. And I paid for having hope again. When I saw you with… him, I knew. I don’t have any friends here. I’m not a nice guy, I know that. Nobody likes me, and I can’t blame them. I wouldn’t like myself.”

“You don’t like yourself!" Rodney snapped. "How could you? You lost yourself ten years ago. And I didn’t help much, did I?”

This time the blue eyes were filled with anguish, but Kavanagh didn’t say a word. It tore into Rodney’s heart to see his colleague like this – though he had been the first to admit that he disliked Kavanagh. There was a slight hum over the bond, telling him that John had maybe picked up some of his confused emotions and sent reassurance. Rodney brushed over the mind that was so close to his, but then concentrated back on Kavanagh.

“You were alone,” he murmured.

“You get used to it.”

“I know.”

Kavanagh swallowed, hands moving restlessly. “I’m going to pack, leave next time with the Daedalus. It’ll be here in another two weeks. I'll stay out of your way.“

“No, you won’t.”

“What? McKay, I…"

“Gonna run again?" Rodney demanded, anger rising. "How far do you want to go? You’ve run into another galaxy already and look what it got you!”

“McKay…“ the physicist pleaded.

Rodney made a harsh gesture with his hands, cutting him off. “Listen, I know all about running. Expert talking here. Calvin, there’s nowhere to run. You always take yourself with you, so the only way to get rid of your demons is to face them. Head on.”

Kavanagh gave a sharp snort. “Look who’s talking.”

“Oh please, give me some slack here!" came the protest. "As if living in a galaxy with the constant threat of life-sucking aliens who think you’re the delicacy of the season, and psychopathic madmen who like to cut your throat just for the fun of it, and being on your toes 24/7 because one of the alien, highly overrated batteries in the alien city you live in could get a hiccup and you’re the only person in said galaxy able to fix it wouldn’t at least change you a ‘wee bit’,” McKay ranted, barely taking a breath.

Kavanagh stared at him.

And then he chuckled.

Rodney hadn't realized he had held his breath, but he felt some of the tension leave his body. Of course there was still the fact that Kavanagh… that this man… he just couldn’t even think the words.

“If you put it this way.”

“Yes, I do. Calvin, the Daedalus isn’t due for two weeks. Stay, think about it. See if you can do it. And keep your fingers out of my equipment.”

“You know how much I like to get my fingers on your equipment.”

“And that’s the precise reason you… Wait a minute! What?”

Rodney heard John’s outburst in his mind the very second he felt his face flush with heat.

//He got you there, Rodney//

//Oh shut up!//

“Don’t flirt with me, Kavanagh! God, I never thought I’d say those words.”

“I never flirted with you, McKay. Besides, you don’t even notice if someone does.”

“What?”

“He’s not here anymore.”

“What?! Wait, he?" Rodney spluttered. "As in… you weren’t the only… There was someone else?!”

Kavanagh chuckled.

As did John.

* * *

Rodney stared at the ceiling. They had shut the blinds, but the reflection of the moon on the water was partly dancing over the ceiling, giving the room a strange yet soothing atmosphere. Rodney stared at it.

“Stop it,” Sheppard mumbled.

“What are you talking about?” Rodney demanded.

“Even without the bond I can hear those wheels spinning.”

John stirred beside him, hazel eyes regarding him sleepily.

“Yeah, well, after receiving some life-altering information like that…“

“It’s not life-altering to learn someone fell in love with you, Rodney.”

“No, not for you, maybe! But me? And not only Kavanagh! Which is mind-boggling on its own. But there was at least one more person… and I didn’t even… and now…”

Rodney expelled a loud sigh. This was so complicated! And Kavanagh of all people! He had never felt the slightest stirring concerning the most obnoxious man he had ever worked with, and it hadn't been because he had lusted after John Sheppard either. Kavanagh wasn't his type.

“Now you can’t get this overactive mind of yours to stop feeding you with ‘what if’s’ and images of Kavanagh in the buff?” John teased mischievously.

“No! Well, not in the buff, but…“ Rodney broke off, mortified. "Oh god!"

John turned onto his stomach and smiled at him, not the least looking like a jealous lover. More like the best friend teasing the living daylights out of McKay. “You wonder. What could have been. If he had told you.”

It wasn’t a question.

“No! Okay, maybe. A little. He's not my type!" Rodney wailed.

"Oh?"

"I'm more into the military hot jocks with messy hair."

John grinned. "Good for me then."

"Very good for you, Colonel."

"You like the rank, too?"

"Oh please!" Rodney groaned. "I'm not that cheap!" He sighed and turned more serious. "You know, I met him before we came here, before I even heard of things like Gates or the SGC.”

“Kavanagh? You did?”

John propped himself up on one elbow, watching his lover with more interest now. Rodney nodded.

“Yes. I told you I worked with Armbruster once. I had just received my doctorate and they all… well, let’s just say recognized my ingenuity. Stop laughing! I gave a lecture as assistant professor and I remember seeing him there. First row, of course. Armbruster introduced him to me afterwards as his ‘most promising talent’.”

Rodney snorted.

“I didn’t get the whole meaning back then. But John, he was right. There was something about Kavanagh … he was enthusiastic about just being where he was. He loved to do science, to theorize and test it and try all over again, to push his mind to its limit. He wanted to learn.”

“Just like a certain someone we both know.”

Rodney glared at John but only for a second.

“Listening to that description I wouldn’t even remotely think of Kavanagh.”

“Neither would I. Now you can see just how much Armbruster destroyed.”

“And he fell in love with you.”

“And he fell…,“ Rodney groaned. “So not helping! He left Atlantis because of me. And he came back because of me. Me! I can’t… I just don’t understand it. Why would someone do that?”

“As he said, love changes everything. I would do the same.”

Rodney’s eyes widened. “You… you would?”

//All this time and you still don’t get it?//

//What?//

//I love you, Rodney McKay. I’d walk through a Hive ship for you. Unarmed//

//You…//

John threw an arm over his middle, snuggling closer. He gave a little affirmative grunt and Rodney stared at the shock of dark hair.

//Go to sleep, Rodney//

//NOW?!//

* * *

The next few days were awkward, but Rodney snarked and bitched his way through each and every one like always. Kavanagh worked silently in his lab, continued his projects, and rarely did anyone approach him. If at all, it was only to ask for a tool or where a report had suddenly disappeared to.

Rodney watched the interaction, or lack thereof, and started his own little campaign to reintegrate the man. Many called Kavanagh a traitor behind his back, a coward, a viper, an opportunistic bastard. McKay smothered all that talk right away. He didn't care what looks he got because of it. He wouldn't let any of this go any further.

Calvin Kavanagh wasn't who anyone thought he was. McKay knew that now and he would be damned if he let the hacking and pecking continue.

//Setting a good example?// John teased after Rodney had read a bunch of engineers the riot act because the puddlejumper's engine had started to overload after their so-called test-run.

//Someone has to//

//Like the head geek?//

Rodney snorted and swallowed the last of his chocolate bar. He had taken a quick break and washed the taste down with coffee.

//You need me?// he asked.

//Uh, no. Why?//

//This is gonna be a long night. Those morons wiped all systems. Radek and his team will pull an all-nighter//

//And you'll be there?//

//I've five reports to read through and four of them to trash//

Sheppard chuckled. //You do that. I can go for another night on my own//

//Ow, stop whining! You're a grown man!//

//Didn't whine. I'm okay// Sheppard sent a hug and added a kiss.

* * *

Calvin Kavanagh walked into his quarters, looking around the roomy living area. Nobody had ever been here with him, nobody had ever wanted to. And as he had said to Rodney, he couldn’t blame them.

Rodney McKay.

Abrasive, rude, obnoxious, snarky.

Self-declared genius of two galaxies.

And probably right.

Handsome.

Somehow he doubted that Rodney McKay would ever think of himself as handsome. But when he had seen him for the first time he had felt something inside him stir with interest. It had been in another time, in another galaxy, and they had both been different people then. He had been in a relationship – or so he had thought. Miles had betrayed him, his trust, his love. Rodney had been right. And Armbruster… Kavanagh had taken what had been left of his heart, soul and pride, locked his jaw and gone from there, always looking out for number one. Himself. Because – that lesson he had learned well - nobody else ever would. But he had kept an eye on the work of one Dr. McKay.

And then – Atlantis.

A new chance, to start all over again, get his abilities finally acknowledged. Hope.

Crushed within the blink of an eye. Sparkling blue eyes that had haunted him.

Rodney McKay.

He had worked with the man, had felt feelings flare to life that he had buried a lifetime ago, a galaxy away. He had fallen again.

And he hated Rodney for it.

Hated himself for it.

Had run away.

And come back, because Earth was just … Earth. Empty dry soil with out any spark. Without hope.
So he had come back. With the full intention of becoming a better man, a different man, maybe even courageous enough to talk to Rodney about his feelings.

But the Goa’uld incident, the bomb placed into Atlantis’ mainframe, had crushed that all over again.

Guilty until proven innocent.

Kavanagh snorted.

Story of his life.

And when he had seen what he had seen – Rodney pinning Sheppard against a wall, nuzzling his neck, engaged in a kiss that spoke of more than a fleeting encounter – he had buried his hope alongside everything else. Except for the bitterness that had raised its ugly head once again, telling him that he had been a fool, that it had been naïve and idiotic of him to even wish for anything but betrayal.

But still he had let Rodney convince him to stay, face his demons, as the other man had put it.

Why was it that Rodney McKay had such an influence on him, his life?

Kavanagh lay back on his bed, staring at the pattern the reflection of sunlight against the waves caused. His hand was resting on his stomach and he closed his eyes, feeling the heat concentrate in more southern areas. Letting his hand follow that heat, creating a tickling pattern on his skin he slipped it under the waistband of his pants, slowly, caressing his skin, feeling his breath becoming shorter and ragged. Spreading his legs he slid deeper, grabbing tighter, imagining it to be another man’s hand stroking him, squeezing him, making him gasp; another man’s lips swallowing his moans with searing kisses; another man’s hands on his body, caressing, teasing, touching him, spreading him, making him…

He arched into his own hand, barely stifling his cry as the wave of climax rolled through his body.
 

When his rapid breathing decreased, Kavanagh slowly opened his eyes again. Though his body was thrumming with the force of completion, there was still a reflection pattern on his ceiling, and it was only his own hand between his legs.

Kavanagh sighed and rolled onto his side, pulling his knees up and squeezing his eyes shut, not having any energy left for anything else. Had there been the warm fantasy of another man before, holding him, all he felt now was sticky and cold. And alone.

Story of his life.

* * *

The world around them was rocky and inhospitable. Wind swept wildly through the narrow gaps in the stunted trees and a thin, persistent rain that was more like a heavy mist trickled down out of a gray sky. In one direction there was nothing but thick, tangled undergrowth and in the other the ground ran roughly down into a valley as deep as the Grand Canyon -- only not so picturesque. Dark clouds raced across the sky.

John Sheppard looked at the horizon where lightning could be seen.

"Nice," he commented. "This place would make a lousy vacation spot."

The name of the place was M7L-899 and it had been next on their list of worlds to visit. All team members were clad in water proof fatigues, already dripping slightly from the steady stream of rather cold water from the sky. Reports from an earlier visit had brought back news of an interesting ruin, which had the scientists hop in circles and pleading to be let lose on the find. Elizabeth had finally agreed and here they were.

Sheppard had Lorne's team of Marines with him to keep an eye on the group of four scientists. One of them was Rodney, of course, who was eager to get his hands on whatever they might find. Another was Kavanagh. It wasn't the man's first off-world visit, though he was a far cry from McKay where experience came in.

"Okay, everyone!" John called, catching their attention. "Spread out and let's take a look around. No one wanders too far, understood?"

They nodded and started their exploration.

"Lorne, you take Burns and Shore. I'll keep my eyes on the others."

Sheppard gestured at Rodney and Kavanagh to indicate that those were the ones he wouldn't let out of his sight. Lorne nodded.

The wind continued to tug at their hair and Sheppard grimaced at the conditions.

* * *

John wiped water out of his eyes and scanned the area once more. They had been on this world for nearly a day now, getting a rough grid map established of the area around the abandoned structure that, by Rodney's estimate, wasn't really an Ancient outpost. It might have been one, but someone else had taken over and probably destroyed a lot of useful things.

They had not met a single soul, no sign of life, except animal life forms. The rain had ceased a few hours after their arrival - much to everyone's relief. The whole landscape seemed to consist more of canyons than anything else. From where he stood he saw a desolate vista of bare rocks and jagged hills, through which whistled a savage wind that tugged at him. Dark clouds churned overhead threatening more rain. A valley lay spread out beyond him, huge and staggeringly rough, as if a long-ago river had churned violently along the plain, eating it away in huge gulps. Ten feet beyond his booted feet, the ground dropped away.

Rodney was crooning over all the little finds within the Ancient structure, snapping at the geologist of their team to stop wasting time on trying to date the brittle stone and make himself useful by transcribing the runes. Kavanagh had chosen to retreat deeper into the ruins with his laptop, and Rodney reluctantly left their linguist – James Shore - and the geologist – Richard Burns - alone to follow some readings he had discovered.

//Down boy// John teased as he walked back. //Ruin's been here for thousands of years. It won't disappear if you don't get it all on the first day//

//With our luck?// came the snappish reply. //We'll probably have an earthquake tomorrow and everything's gone. I bet there was a whole city out there and it was swallowed by the canyon!//

John chuckled. The Kiowata inside of him wasn't very keen on running here either, though if push came to shove, he would have taken this as a running track, too. As it was, his Kiowata side was quite docile. He had spent some hours on the mainland and it had done him good.
 
 

Rodney headed deeper into the ruin, frowning at some readings. Strange. He hadn't noticed the significant amount of energy before. It might be something important. Maybe there was an energy source they could use…

//Careful, Rodney//

//I am, I am// he replied absent-mindedly.

And then everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

One moment he was alone, the next his life sign scanner showed exactly that, a life sign. It flared brightly and Rodney didn't even have time to yell in fright, though his mind sent //Wraith!// quite clearly across the bond.

The Wraith darted toward him, grinning this ugly grin that seemed to be a trademark of his race, his hand descending onto his chest with snakelike speed and accuracy, and Rodney finished with his life in his mind.

Something crashed into the Wraith and sent him flying, snarling and hissing.

Rodney was thrown to the ground, landing painfully on his hip, but he had no time for pain.

There was an ear-splitting scream --

-- followed by several volleys from a P-90 and the gurgling sound of a dying Wraith.

Rodney scrambled to his feet and crawled over to where the Wraith was still partly curled around his victim, and pushed the heavy figure off, feeling his stomach churn with dread of what he would see.

Male, black t-shirt… auburn pony-tail…

Kavanagh?

Auburn hair… not white, his mind told him. Auburn. Not white. No sudden aging. No energy stolen. Right?!

Turning the man onto his back Rodney steeled himself.

It was indeed Kavanagh. His shirt was soaked with the blood on the chest, indicating that the Wraith had actually started to feed, but his face… god, his face. It was still young! There were a few more lines, the cheek bones more pronounced but…

Not like Gaul. Not like Abrams. Not like back then…

A shudder raced through Rodney as memories of that horrible moment flashed through his mind. Gaul. A scientist, young like Kavanagh. Brilliant, too. His life taken in small pieces by a Wraith. The super-Wraith.

//Med team is on its way, Rodney. How is he?//

John's clipped voice drew him out of his thoughts and he drew a deep breath.

//Alive. He’s alive!//

He almost slumped over the unconscious figure while trying to stem the blood flow from where the Wraith had been ripped off Kavanagh’s chest, working on autopilot. He knew only too well how deep such wounds went, how painful they were. Gaul had bled, too. All victims did. Now Kavanagh's skin had been broken and he was bleeding. So much blood. Blood everywhere…

There weren't just puncture wounds from claws and the cut of the feeding, no. The Wraith had been ripped off its victim, had probably been desperate, and there were deep gauges. Four of them. And the feeding wound was jagged, large…

//He’ll make it, Rodney//

Sheppard was there, gun ready, looking fierce. Rodney was incredibly glad for the physical support, for the show of strength because, truthfully, he was about to lose it.

//He… he jumped in front of a Wraith, John. For me! Calvin Kavanagh jumped in front of a hunting Wraith! I heard him, John, heard him scream…// He shuddered, the rambling stuttering off.

//Let’s get you both to the infirmary and checked out. Then you can freak// John said levelly.

//Who says I’m freaking?!//

//Me. Because I am, too//

Rodney gave a faint, almost insane laugh. He wanted to cry, he wanted to yell, he wanted Kavanagh awake, he wanted John here with him…

//I'm here// Sheppard whispered and Rodney nodded.

//Know that. Know that… it’s… he did… what he… why? God, John… he was ready to… to…//

//No freaking. Not yet//

//I won't//

There were suddenly more people. Marines. One pushed Rodney aside and the physicist stumbled back, refusing to let the tremors get him, refusing to let the horror take over. Everything inside him was shaking so badly, he imagined he had to be shivering like an earthquake sensor. Sheppard was barking orders, sending someone to the Stargate to start dialing. Lorne was herding Burns and Shore away while two Marines brought a stretcher.

When had they found a stretcher?

"C'mon, Rodney," Sheppard could be heard. "Let's go."

He walked like on automatic, his face a mask, his eyes walled off. Behind the walls he was close to giving in to the terror. But only just.

Right now he had to hold it back. John's mind was a soothing touch and Rodney took strength from it.

They stepped through the Stargate to the bustle of medical personnel, more Marines, security keeping their guns trained on the event horizon in case of hostile forces coming through, and Carson was already with Kavanagh, who was being wheeled out of the main Gate room.

"Med bay, Rodney. You, too."

He didn't argue. The shock sat too deep.

* * *

As it turned out both men had been unbelievable lucky. Rodney didn’t have more than a few bruises from where the Wraith had knocked him to the ground, and Kavanagh – well, Kavanagh would have to thank every deity he acknowledged that he was alive. The Wraith had started to feed, but he had only been able to take a little, a few years in appearance, before Sheppard had gunned him down.

The terrible wounds had been stitched and according to Beckett there would be scars. The deep scratches were like a huge cat's claws ripping into skin. It wouldn't heal without a trace.

Kavanagh was still unconscious due to the fact his system had been shocked deeply and there had been considerable blood loss. Beckett hadn’t stitched him up again himself after cleaning out the worst of it. It had been one of the new physicians that had come with the Daedalus. It was probably to break him in to this life on the edge, Rodney mused.

“I can’t believe he threw himself in front of a Wraith for you,” Beckett muttered as he ran a last check on McKay, and Rodney glared.

“Thank you so very much, Carson. Do you think I’m not worth it?”

“I didn’t say that, lad. All I say is I never thought him capable of something like that.”

Rodney was very silent, glancing over to the bed in the infirmary where the unconscious form of Dr. Calvin Kavanagh lay. There was a monitor hooked up to him and a nurse was currently checking the readings.

//I don’t believe it either. Can I freak now?// McKay asked plaintively.

//Yes. I got you//

Rodney trembled slightly, feeling John’s arms wrap themselves around him, holding him. A soft moan escaped his lips and John tightened his hold, drawing him close, and Rodney buried his head in the uniformed shoulder. No need to hide here. Beckett stepped back, pulled the curtains to give them privacy, and disappeared with a silent nod.

//He… John… I can’t get his scream out of my mind. He knew he would die…// Rodney felt something inside of him curl into a tight ball at that.

He had faced too many Wraith to count and he had been a victim, too. He had spent hours in one of their cocoons, he had felt their hands on his flesh, he knew their strength and their mindless hunger.

//You don’t know that// John argued.

Blue eyes flared with anger. //Sure! Running into a hungry Wraith isn't like signing your own death certificate, right?//

//How often have you survived it by now?//

//Not the point//

//Sure the point//

//He did it for me, John. For me!//

A soft kiss was placed against his neck and Rodney felt his tremors increase.

"He did it for you," Sheppard murmured, his lips against Rodney's ear. "I'm glad he protected you when I couldn't."

"But why?" Rodney managed, voice uneven. "Why risk his life? Why walk into this knowing he would get killed?!"

John soothed him as his voice rose higher and Rodney closed his eyes, burying his head against his lover's chest. He couldn't be strong any more. He needed… he needed this. Needed John.

And Sheppard just held him silently.

*

Beckett released him with the advice to get some sleep, though Rodney doubted he would. A sedative was mentioned, but he shook his head. He didn’t want drugs. Not yet anyway. Should he lose it, yeah, sure, but right now no way.

Sheppard was at his side, a worried presence in his mind, and when they arrived at Rodney's quarters, he simply followed inside. There was no question whether he could be here or not. He would be here.

Elizabeth had her primary report and she would have to wait for more until both men had rested. Beckett would give her an update on their medical condition.

Rodney stripped completely on automatic, and the shower was brief and unerotic for both men. John coaxed him to bed, slipped in with him, and Rodney immediately curled up close to the other man. Sheppard held him silently, let him quietly unfold into total freakdom over what had happened, only the mind link a soft, warm pulse of reassurance.

He slipped off into sleep at some point, but it wasn't a restful one. Rodney dreamed of Wraith, of dead scientists, of people he had lost to life-sucking aliens, and he saw Kavanagh, ready to sacrifice himself for Rodney.

Why me? echoed in his dreams. Why do that for me?

Sheppard was there, reassuring him with his presence, and Rodney was infinitely thankful for it.

* * *

Sheppard had sent a team back to the ruin on M7L-899. Lorne had reported back two hours later. They had combed through the structure and found what had to be a hibernation chamber inside an escape pod, for one Wraith only, and it had been in a desolate state. The Wraith had apparently crashed onto the planet a while ago because there had been no signs of ship fragments, and they had woken it with their presence. It had been starved, desperate, and it had attacked Kavanagh.

"We brought back a few samples for the scientists," Lorne added. "Do you want us back there?"

John shook his head. "No. I'll talk to Dr. Weir, see if we need more intel, but I guess the only time we go back there is to destroy what's left of that thing."

Lorne nodded briskly and left.

Sheppard turned on his heels as well and headed for Elizabeth's office.
 
 

Three hours later Lorne was sent back, with a team, and they blew up the hibernation chamber and with it the body of the dead Wraith.

* * *

Calvin Kavanagh woke to a world of – no, not really pain, more like a deep soreness and aches, like having a flu or something. Part of him felt like wrapped in cotton, floating, and it was… nice.

He opened his eyes and saw gray. Focusing, he realized he was staring at a gray ceiling. The light hurt his eyes and he closed them again. Then he heard a voice. It sounded familiar and his mind sluggishly tried to remember more. He opened his eyes, carefully this time, not to be blinded again.

“You look like crap.”

And then there was that.

Taking a deep breath hurt, pulling at something on his chest. His memory was still rather sketchy, but he recalled the off-world visit, the ruins, the explorations.... and then nothing. Well, almost nothing. There had been someone.... Kavanagh forced himself to remember more, but it was hard.

…yellow, alien eyes, slitted pupils, pressure, and then pain… excruciating pain… his soul wrenched from him …

He gasped, and a strangely soothing weight landed on his shoulder.

“Easy. You’re still walking this, well, planet.”

The weight turned out to be a hand. Which turned out to belong to…

“Sheppard?”

And had that scratchy sound just been his voice?

“Here, drink some water.”

Straw, mug, cool liquid. He coughed a little as it went down, but it felt like heaven.

“What are you doing here?” Kavanagh rasped.

Sheppard shrugged a little. “Obviously sitting at your bedside.”

“Ri-ight. You.”

John gave him one of those infuriating smiles. “Yes. Me.”

“And what’s wrong with that picture?”

“Kavanagh, I’m not saying I’m doing it because I like you - you’re still a pain in the ass. But from what I’ve come to understand about physicists by now, that’s a given. What you did, though… you rattled Rodney pretty good.”

Memories crept back once more. Seeing Rodney lost in his data, the approaching shadow, the realization that it was a Wraith, the frantic question where it had come from, and then the decision to do this.

“How is he?” he asked.

“Sleeping. He’s been up for more than twenty four hours.”

Sheppard looked like he had gotten at least a little sleep, but he could be wrong on that, too. Kavanagh felt like jelly and limp noodles. He was tired, his brain ached, his very soul hurt.

“That comes with the territory, too,” he only answered.

“Tell me about it. Listen, Kavanagh, I…“

“You’re not coming with apologies for your past behavior towards me, are you?”

Sheppard stopped, looking a thoughtful. “Well… no. I only wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“If you hadn’t done what you did Atlantis would be one genius short by now.”

He didn’t answer. What he had done – well, what had he done? Acting without even thinking twice. So not him. Kavanagh grimaced. All he had seen was this creature assailing Rodney and he had jumped into it, shoving it out of the way – and therefore shoving himself into its way. He shuddered involuntarily – searing agony, wrenching a scream out of his lungs with what seemed to be his last breath – and there was that hand again, squeezing his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Sheppard said softly, and he saw in those eyes what he had seen some times before, in the mirror. “If you… you know, want to talk or something…“

“I certainly won’t come to you. But thanks for the offer anyway.”

Sheppard nodded and started to leave. He glanced back one more time, as if he wanted to say something, then just walked away.

Kavanagh remained in bed, too weak to do much, and when Beckett swooped down on him, he was almost out of it once more.

"How bad?" he only asked the physician.

Beckett gave him a tight but reassuring smile. "You'll have a wee bit of scarring. The blood loss was rather worrying, but we got some extra blood into you."

Blue eyes glared at him. "How much did he take?"

"Not much," came the new reassurance. "Four to five years. It barely shows."

Something inside of him trembled in fear. He had seen the victim of a Wraith attack before and Kavanagh knew he wasn't strong enough to look at an aged self. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

Beckett retreated, giving him space, and the physicist drifted off to the nightmarish recollections of the attack and the pain.

* * *

Rodney noticed the tension in his labs, how the others shot him a look when they thought he wasn't watching. It was a tension born out of the latest events. Everyone was confused about Kavanagh's actions, wondered what had happened on the planet that Dr. Calvin Kavanagh would throw himself between Rodney and a Wraith. There were those in favor of the man, who had slowly grown warmer around him. They thought it was a kind of redemption act. Kavanagh had truly wanted to save his fellow scientist and those people claimed he wasn't the coward he appeared to be.

Then there were the others, those who were still suspicious of him. They thought there were ulterior motives, but they couldn't find any. Lack of bitching and complaining about Kavanagh's act on Rodney's side – and why should he complain about being saved? – furthered the confusion. McKay behaved normally, didn't rant about his former enemy.

"How is Kavanagh?" Zelenka wanted to know while they worked on their project.

"How are you after a Wraith attacks you?" Rodney asked with a hint of anger.

Zelenka gave him a silent look, his eyes serious behind the thin glasses. "He lost years?"

"Five. About five. He's alive, I didn't kill him, so can we go back to work?"

Another long look. "You never killed anyone, Rodney."

McKay drew a deep breath, fighting down his more volatile reaction. Instead of a verbal answer he turned back to his screen. Zelenka stayed at his side, sharing the silence.

"He has changed," the engineer finally said.

Rodney worked on, trying to ignore him.

"He came back and I wondered about your state of mind when you said you would take him back."

That got Zelenka a glare. He returned it with a smile.

"You two never got along. He fought you, you bit his head off, he got back at you, and so on. Something changed. He came back, he changed."

"He's an asshole, Radek. A self-centered little prick."

"Really? He stepped between you and Wraith. He saved you."

Rodney stopped his work, tensing up. "Yes," he ground out. "Yes, he saved my life. For whatever reasons. Yes, he might not be a total coward. Yes, I took him back, but only because we're running short of scientists who annoy me, though you're a runner up for his position!"

Zelenka regarded him critically. "You were the one to make point of working with him, Rodney. Everyone turned to you for guidance when he came back and you accepted him."

Rodney straightened and turned to face the engineer, glaring now. "How about we cut the chit-chat and work on our main problem here? It's what you get paid for!"

"Of course." Zelenka turned back to work, but not without another pointed look.

Rodney stared at him, then finally pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay," he said slowly. "All right, I confess to it, he's changed. He's half the asshole of before. Well, maybe even less. He showed backbone out there and I'm grateful for it." Blue eyes bore into Zelenka. "Happy now? You made me spill my guts!"

The engineer smiled. "Yes."

And with that he was back at work.

McKay growled something under his breath, ignoring the other man for the rest of the day.

* * *

Sheppard had had an appointment with Beckett, mainly to answer some questions on the bond, his mental state as the Kiowata, and to have blood drawn. He grimaced as the needle was removed. It didn't hurt, but he hated it anyway. He felt like a pin cushion sometimes.

Beckett was not only catching up on Kiowata needs, he was also trying to understand the changes that had happened to both Rodney and John. The mind-link was very… versatile, and so far Beckett had only requested a few experiments, not going any deeper than the general stuff. Sheppard wasn’t sure he wanted to demonstrate how he could sexually arouse his lover by just sending the right images.

Shape-changing had happened frequently under the watchful eyes of Carson, and the doctor was trying to understand how the body mass and whole bone structure could rearrange itself so efficiently and quickly as it did. John didn’t really want to know. Really. Absolutely not. But he patiently let Beckett go over the readings, ask him questions and coax him into another change. He even had had Rodney be there, to measure if the shape-shifting did anything to the physicist. It didn’t.

Now John sat on the chair, finger pressing a little wad of bandage against the needle mark to stop the bleeding. His eyes strayed around and he found himself seeking out the bed Kavanagh still lay in. He watched a dark haired doctor check on the injured man, smiling, talking to him.

“Carson,” he asked softly, “who’s the new doc?”

Beckett turned and looked toward where John was indicating. “Allan?”

John nodded.

“Dr. Allan O’Rourke. His specialty is intensive and trauma medicine. The lad worked in emergency rooms in the US and Canada. He has quite the talent. Learned from the best.”

“How come he’s here?”

“He came with the Daedalus, by recommendation from General O’Neill.”

John looked thoughtful. “Has he any family?”

That earned him a surprised look. “Nae, not that I know of.” Then Carson inhaled. “I know what you’re asking, Colonel. Many of those who came here after the original expedition have a reason. Allan lost his partner two years ago, Goa’uld attack. He’s not keeping it a secret when someone’s asking.”

Carson glanced over his shoulder at where the two men where obviously arguing, Kavanagh ready to get up and O’Rourke pushing him back with a hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm. Finally Kavanagh gave in with an exasperated eye-roll and lay back. John had to grin.

“He knows how to handle renitent patients?”

“Aye, that he does. And quite well, I may add.” Beckett smirked.

John just watched the two men, the patient and his doctor, and he wondered.

* * *

Five days after the attack, after he had been discharged from the med labs, but had been told to take it easy, Kavanagh had the mandatory talk with Heightmeyer. She told him to come to her whenever he felt he needed someone to talk to. Kavanagh just nodded and left, walking straight to his quarters. He was on sick leave until his injuries were healed and he got a clean psych eval.

Whatever for? He wasn't likely to really end up with off-world missions, right? He didn't need to save the day like McKay did on a regular basis. He didn't even wield a gun. Not that he knew how to shoot one in the first place…

Blue eyes were drawn to the mirror in his quarters and his lips became a thin line. The Wraith hadn't taken much, like Beckett had already assured him. Four to five years maybe. He didn't have any graying strands, his skin wasn't wrinkled, and aside from his more pronounced cheekbones, a thinner, leaner look, he was still himself.

Kavanagh took his glasses off and massaged his eyes. He was aching, had a faint headache, and he was tired. All normal, he had been told. All a side effect.

He felt like throwing up. He could still feel it, the feeding process, his life draining away. And the pain. Looking into those yellow eyes, hungry and feral, and the pain in his chest…

Kavanagh knew that few people survived the first feeding and that he was lucky. He snorted. What luck was that? He didn't look like an old man, but the pain and the memories alone had him go through sleepless nights.

He hated to look at the scars. The ‘wee bit of scarring’ Beckett had mentioned was actually more than ‘wee’. They were deep and red and the stitches were still there. His chest looked mauled and he was glad for the bandages. He placed a hand on the wound underneath his t-shirt and shuddered.

Everything was coming apart. He was back on Atlantis, but aside from Rodney and maybe one or two others from the scientists, no one really spoke to him. He was watching the man he had fallen for with someone else, and though he didn't feel an all-consuming jealousy, he had this longing.

If he had told McKay… well, nothing would have changed. He probably would have had to leave Atlantis sooner than he already had.

The Daedalus was still a viable option. He could hand in his resignation, once again, and run. But Rodney had been right. He was running from himself, but by running he always took himself with him. And what was there on Earth?

Nothing.

Kavanagh felt something inside of him whimper. He was alone. Wherever he went. At least he could call Rodney something akin to a friend, though he wouldn't be so daring to say it out loud.

There was a faint knock and he flinched.

"Yes?"

"It's O'Rourke," a voice could be heard. "Can I come in?"

The physicist drew a deep breath and put his glasses back on. He opened the door and was greeted by a friendly smile.

"Hey. I was going off shift and wanted to drop by, see how you're doing."

Kavanagh stepped back and let the other man inside. "How do you think I'm doing?" he almost-snapped.

"From a physical point of view I know how you are," the doctor replied mildly.

"I'm seeing Heightmeyer," was the dismissive retort.

"Cal, stop biting my head off."

Kavanagh was frozen for a moment, then his shoulders dropped. O'Rourke regarded him with veiled worry.

They had first met aboard the Daedalus, on the day Kavanagh had decided that returning to Atlantis might be his best and only option, at least compared to the SGC or any lab associated with it. O'Rourke had been thoroughly briefed on what to expect, but for some reason there hadn't been much worry in the other man. He had been working with SGC for two years, had seen aliens and had been off world before, as far as he had told Kavanagh. There had been talk about him filling in for the deceased Janet Fraser, but he hadn't and now he was here.

For some reason, both men had hit off on the month long trip. Kavanagh discovered he liked to talk to the other man, though he wasn't revealing any secrets or spilling his guts. He just… talked.

"Sorry," he now murmured. "Uh, why are you here?"

"Like I said, I'm off shift, unless we get an emergency, and I was wondering if you wanted to, well, have dinner with me."
Kavanagh felt drawn between surprise and anger. Anger won.

"What? Is this some kind of a joke? McKay set you up to it?"

The doctor's eyes showed confusion. "Dr. McKay? No. Calvin, I'm sorry if this is a bad time… or if it came across wrong…"

Kavanagh ran a hand over his hair, trying to calm down. He was too edgy, too wary, too plain exhausted by it all to think rationally. Even after Rodney had openly shown that he accepted Kavanagh as a co-worker, hell, as a fellow scientist, things had only gradually turned better. Now, after the attack, Kavanagh was emotionally rattled and O'Rourke's question had hit something inside of him that was terrified of some kind of prank.

What if the others had set Allan up to this? What if he followed the innocent invitation he would end up with some joke played on him? What if this wasn't real, just wishful thinking?

To have a friend. Someone who wasn't McKay. Because aside from that fledgling friendship, there was no one else.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. It's been a bad few days."

"Make it months. I noticed the tension. It's hard not to."

O'Rourke leaned against the edge of the desk, hands casually resting on the desk top, fingers curling around the edge. Kavanagh had let a few things leak as they had made their way from Earth to Atlantis. Not much, but he had told his fellow scientist that Atlantis, though wonderful and alien and new, was not a place where he would be welcomed with open arms. Too much had happened.

The intensivist had listened, not asked many questions, just let him talk. It was what Kavanagh had liked about him immediately. He didn't pry.

"Yeah, well…” Calvin shrugged.

"So, no dinner in the mess hall? I can get us something to eat here if you want. That is, if my company is okay. I know you're tired, but I thought you might like to see a friendly face. Aside from McKay, though that friendliness is debatable."

O'Rourke flashed him a smile and Kavanagh had to chuckle. "Dinner sounds good," he finally agreed. "Without company."

Allan nodded. "I'll see what they have and bring some back. See you in a few."

And then he was out.

Kavanagh slumped onto a chair and wondered what was going on.

* * *

"Why did you ask to go into the field?" Allan wanted to know.

Kavanagh picked at his food. It looked good, probably tasted nice, too, but he wasn't hungry.

"I thought it might be a good idea," he muttered.

"No, you didn't. You wanted to impress him."

"What?!"

The doctor smiled. "I have eyes, Calvin. You like Dr. McKay, you wanted to impress him. But I also noticed a closeness between him and Colonel Sheppard. Even if they are really not together, in his eyes there is no one else."

Kavanagh stared at the other man, dumbstruck. "And… and you just looked? You saw it by looking?" he stammered.

"No. Not just. Calvin, I came because there is nothing left on Earth for me. My partner was killed by the Goa'uld. He died saving others."

Kavanagh blinked. They had never talked about family while on the Daedalus, keeping it safe. He hadn't thought Allan was gay, though maybe he should have. His own sense of who might be gay or not had withered away a long time ago. With Rodney, he had hoped.

"I know you prefer men, like I do. I never had a female partner. A girl-friend in high school, but that was about it." O'Rourke smiled.

Kavanagh played some more with his food. "So?"

"So what?"

"You probably think I'm a fool."

"No. You fell in love. It's never foolish." There was a wistful note to Allan's voice. "But he's no longer on the market, hm?"

"No," was the slightly dejected answer.

“That’s what I thought. The Colonel?”

He put his fork down. “Look, I really don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“Okay, I understand." O'Rourke nodded.

The rest of the dinner was spent in companionable silence, interspersed with much safer topics. Kavanagh enjoyed it. For the first time he enjoyed company, and a part of him dared to thaw a little.

He couldn't smother the yawn when it happened and O'Rourke chuckled.

"You must be tired. How about I take care of the dishes and leave you to rest a little? I'll come back tomorrow to check on you, all right?”

Kavanagh just nodded, and when he finally slipped under the covers he just then noticed how tired he really was.

* * *

The room was still dark, but the first rays of the early Atlantis sun were already playing over the horizon. It wouldn't take more than maybe thirty minutes until dawn crept slowly into the City. The night shift would be replaced by the day shift as people woke more and more. Some scientists would finally crawl into their beds, or they would get themselves another pot of coffee and continue with whatever important project was keeping their attention.

For once, Rodney wasn't among them. Actually, he had crawled into bed around midnight, muttering about stupidity, lax attitudes and heads that would roll as soon as he could string two sentences together.

Sheppard lay on his side and watched his best friend and lover. Whenever he could catch a morning together with Rodney, woke up before the sometimes very hyperactive physicist, he would just watch the other man. It was a time when Rodney was completely still. Somewhere throughout the night Rodney had stolen John's pillow, his head half on the newly acquired one, and Sheppard had to smile.

Rodney was smiling in his sleep, just a slight turn-up on one side of his mouth moved in his sleep so that his other hand flopped over Sheppard's waist. John ran a caress up the strong forearm, felt the hair under his fingers, and he tenderly touched each of Rodney's digits, like a blind man exploring new territory. Rodney's arm tightened around his waist and the man snuggled closer with an indistinct mutter, making Sheppard smile more. He felt the sleeping mind through the bond, but he wouldn't touch it. Rodney had been exhausted when he had come in last night and he needed his rest. He wouldn't wake for hours, unless there was an emergency, and John would make sure he wasn't disturbed.

The close call with the Wraith was still haunting Sheppard. Like Kavanagh's sacrifice was on his waking mind. He didn't understand the otherwise so cowardly scientist. He didn't understand his reasons. Even though he had feelings for Rodney, it didn't warrant this…

"Think more silent thoughts," a sleepy voice groused.

Sheppard smiled and leaned over to kiss his lover on one naked shoulder.

"What's keeping you awake?" Rodney mumbled, eyes thin slits.

"Things."

"I love it when you get so explanatory and descriptive."

"Love you, too." This time the kiss was placed onto the nose.

Rodney's mumble was incomprehensive.

//Thinking about you and the Wraith and how lucky we got//

//Oh//

Rodney suddenly pulled him close, snuggling up to the slender form. John went easily, sighing softly as he let the other man hold him close. No words were exchanged, but the emotions flowing through the link were clear.

* * *

A hissing sound. Terror filled blue eyes. Claws sinking into his chest. Pain… ripping him apart…

Kavanagh woke with a sharp gasp, heart hammering in his chest, and for a brief second he felt dizzy and disoriented. Blinking into the semi-darkness he recognized his own room on Atlantis. Home.

No Wraith.

No pain.

Sinking back into the pillow he stared at the ceiling and listened to the ever-present sound of the waves until he felt his heart rate go back to normal. Closing his eyes and trying to go back to sleep was a totally different thing, and after half an hour he simply sighed and reached for his glasses. Dawn was creeping over the horizon anyway, so there was no real reason he shouldn’t get up and try himself at some research work, see how Rodney was faring… okay, skip that. He probably was still snuggled up against Sheppard, warm and secure anyway. Whatever.

A long hot shower woke him up some more and he dressed quickly, not really wanting to see the marks on his chest.

At 05:30 Atlantis standard time he wandered into the almost deserted mess hall, poured himself some freshly brewed coffee and picked up something close to a muffin. He slipped into a far end corner seat, directing his attention toward the laptop he had brought, and some of the equations he wanted to work over.

“Kavanagh?”

Starting he almost spilled his coffee, noticing absentmindedly that the liquid had already gone lukewarm, and grimaced.

“McKay,” he greeted.

“You’re, uhm, you’re up early. Should you be up and about already?”

“As long as I take it slow I’m released to full duty.”

Okay, it was not really an outright lie, but the idea to sit in his quarters with nothing to do but watch the waves for the next few days didn’t really appeal to him. Better face the McKay-snarkiness and get something useful done.

“Oh, good. That’s good. I, uhm, get myself … would you like ... maybe … one, too?”

Kavanagh blinked until he realized Rodney was talking about coffee.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “yes, that would be nice.”

There was a strange glance coming from blue eyes, but then Rodney wandered off. A few minutes later a steaming mug of fresh coffee was standing in front of him, and Rodney McKay sat opposite him, munching happily on some pancakes.

“You should try these,” he muttered between bites, “I never thought I’d say this, but they’re actually better than at home.”

“Some things have to be better here or we’d all be heading home.”

Rodney swallowed a forkful of food and watched him thoughtfully.

“Do you still want to go? I mean after… I could understand.” He shuddered. “Having a Wraith touch you like that is one experience I could live without.”

“Oh, and you know that where from exactly?”

Rodney stilled. For a long moment those blue eyes just looked at Kavanagh, then he nodded briefly as if accepting that accusation as true.

“It wasn’t the first one… the first Wraith that got its hands on me… looking at me like I’m a meal and not a person... I’ve been in Hive ships, in a cocoon, was under attack, scared shitless… I don’t bear any scars to prove it because I’ve always been lucky. I never thanked you, didn’t I?” he added as if in an afterthought.

Kavanagh shook his head. “No. No, you didn’t.”

“I should have. The thing is – nobody ever did something like that for me…“

“…and having me of all people do it makes your world squeak on its axis, I know. Don’t worry, I get the looks already.”

“What looks?”

Damn. He shouldn’t have let Rodney get to him again.

“The who-are-you-and-where-have-you-hidden-the-body-not-that-we-actually-mind looks. The what-nether-reasons-did-you-have looks. The who-do-you-think-you’re-impressing looks.”

“Calvin, I wouldn’t lie if I told you it hasn’t scared and confused the hell out of me, and we both know that I’m an awful liar – never play poker with me – but it doesn’t mean I’m not thankful.”

“Duly noted. Could we go back to irritating each other again now?”

Rodney smirked. “I can do irritating. I have a lot of training in being irritating. Speaking of which – you do look like crap. Go rest. That’s an order.”

And he simply took his tray and walked away, leaving a slightly bemused Calvin Kavanagh behind. So Rodney didn’t want him in the lab? That remained to be seen…

* * *

Three days later he didn’t feel much better. He had received strange looks, heard whispers behind his back – or maybe it was just paranoia rearing its head, who knew? The colleagues hadn’t talked to him all that much before and they left him pretty much alone now. It was a relief and it was painful in one. Relief because he didn't have to talk to anyone, answer questions about what had happened. A pain because people avoided him like the plague. He had been alone before, but now he also felt lonely.

“Cal?”

O’Rourke stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Anything I can do for you, doctor?”

“You haven’t shown up for your exam. It’s time to take the stitches out, see if it’s healing, nothing's infected … you know.”

“I’m fine. I’m stopping by later.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it is ‘later’ already.”

“It’s only…“

“Eight. In the evening, Calvin. And from the looks of it you haven’t eaten much the past few days, have you? Buried yourself in work or whatever it is you’re doing here. Come on, let’s grab a bite, we stop by at the infirmary, I’ll take a look at your chest and then we could watch a movie or something, how does that sound?”

Kavanagh sighed. It sounded…

Looking up he saw the man waiting for his answer, smiling at him, long legs hugged by dark denim, lean frame leaning in the door, black tousled hair, green eyes sparkling… and suddenly it sounded not so bad anymore.

*

Two egg salad sandwiches and three cups of Athosian herb tea later in O’Rourke’s quarters, Kavanagh had to admit he felt warm and full and relaxed. The intensivist grinned at him, pulled his laptop out and connected it to some cables.

“I’m a TV junkie,” he said shrugging when he noticed Kavanagh’s questioning look. “I like my movies in movie quality.”

“You brought a screen?”

“Of course. What would you like to watch? I can offer ‘Finding Forrester’, ‘Good Will Hunting’, or hey, this one’s great, ‘Mr. Holland’s Opus’.”

Kavanagh stared at the other man as if he’d grown a second head.

“You do have a knack for teacher and brilliant-but-misunderstood-student relationships, do you?”

“No, but I figured to offer you ‘Contact’ would only bore you to death.”

“I think I’d rather be bored, thank you very much,” Kavanagh said slowly before he noticed the mischievous glitter.

He threw the napkin at O’Rourke.

And started to feel even warmer when the other man laughed at him.

They ended up watching ‘Contact’ with Kavanagh rolling his eyes every so often or making remarks about the ridiculous physics, trying his very best not to think about the fact he was sitting next to a very attractive man on his bed.

* * *

Beckett had thought long and hard about his decision and he had finally asked Sheppard for a moment of his time. When John arrived in the infirmary he was only slightly surprised to find Rodney there. His lover had expressed his confusion about Carson asking him, too, the moment Beckett had called him over the com.

//Any idea?//

//None// Sheppard confessed. //But it must be important//

Yes, it probably was. Beckett looked serious.

"Okay, Carson, who's terminally ill?" Rodney asked out loud.

Beckett grimaced. "No one. It's not a medical problem. At least not yet. It could be, though, which is why I asked you to come here."

The confusion grew and John leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, shooting their physician a quizzical look.

"Aside from Elizabeth, I'm the only one who knows the full extent of what happened to you two," Carson began. "From a medical standpoint that's unacceptable."

Rodney's brows lowered over narrowing eyes.

"Injuries can be treated and I doubt you will be running around as a Kiowata off-world, aside from dire reasons. But should something happen to either of you and the other reacts to it, or should there be a problem reaching me as a medical doctor and you need someone else – someone who knows – we're short-staffed in that regard."

"Are you talking about telling this to someone else?" John asked levelly.

"Yes, Colonel, I am. We need a medical back-up." Carson's expression was firm, meeting the hard eyes of the other man. "We need a second doctor to know about your special connection and about your shape-changing capabilities, as well as how to treat a wounded Kiowata."

Rodney was silent – unexpectedly so – as he mulled that over. His eyes strayed to the rigid form of his lover.

//He's right, you know//

//I know. I just don't like it!//

"Who?" McKay only asked.

"Dr. O'Rourke. He's an intensivist, a trauma expert, and I trust him."

John frowned. //I met him. More or less. Nice guy.//

"We'll think about it," he only said out loud.

"Colonel, I can't stress enough how important this is. It's your health and safety," Beckett added.

"I'm aware of it. Thanks, doc."

John pushed away from the wall and left.

Beckett shot Rodney a look. The physicist looked a bit uncomfortable, but then he shrugged.

"We'll talk," he promised, then went after Sheppard.

He caught up with him at the nearest transporter.

//John?//

//Not here. Not now. Give me some time//

McKay didn't enter the transporter with him, feeling a brief moment of hurt worry, then he nodded briskly and walked off back to the lab. John sent a wordless apology, which he accepted, then he felt a normal shield slide into place. Sheppard needed to be alone, to think, and Rodney knew he had to give this a thought or two, too.

It was best done while working.

 * * *

It became a regular occasion. Allan would drop by the labs, they would chat, if it was late the intensivist would pry him away from work, and they had dinner together, even if it was only a small sandwich. Now and then there were movies, or something else, and Calvin Kavanagh started to enjoy himself with the very pleasant company.
 

“I’d like to invite you over for dinner. My quarters, 21:00?”

Allan gave him a disarming smile, his face very neutral as he waited.

Kavanagh couldn’t suppress the amusement rising at the ease with which most of the non-military personnel had adapted to the military terminology. But he nodded. It had become somewhat of a habit for either of them to have dinner in the other one’s quarter, and that Allan saw the necessity to make it a ‘formal invitation’ puzzled him a bit. Oh, well.

“Shall I bring something?”

“Just yourself.”

Huh?

* * *

Walking into Allan’s quarters that night puzzled him even more because the room was dark. Not dark-dark, but not-quite-lit-dark. Had he misunderstood the time?

“Out here.”

Almost every room in Atlantis had a balcony and that was where Allan was. Stepping through the door Kavanagh blinked.

Due to Atlantis’ twenty-six-hour day it was already dark outside, but there was a bright full moon hanging over the ocean, illuminating the whole scenery. That, and at least a dozen candles. All over the balcony, placed in strategic places around the pile of cushions, the blanket and the – picnic?

“Hey. Make yourself comfortable. Wine? Or do you prefer a beer?”

“You have beer? And wine?” Kavanagh asked confused for a lack of a better response.

“Brought some with me on the Daedalus, thought I’d share it with you. So?”

“Wine, thank you.”

Allan poured him a glass of red wine and Kavanagh took it, glancing out over the ocean. It was summer on Atlantis and therefore not cold yet, and the incoming breeze carried the salty scent of ocean and beach.

“I know it looks tooth-achingly romantic with the candles and all, but when I saw this moon I couldn’t help it. A night like this deserves it. How’s the wine?”

He hadn’t even tasted it.

“What would you like, tuna or chicken, or… whatever this is the Athosians hunt. Tastes like lamb.”

“Tuna.”

Kavanagh felt confused. He had never had dinner with anyone like this. His past… relationships had never been like that. Armbruster had wined and dined him in a different way, mostly a little foreplay and then sex. The few occasions he had allowed himself to have an affair had been just that – brief, to the point, good-bye right after or in the morning. Never like this.

He felt off kilter and it wasn't something he was used to.
 

They sat in silence, enjoying their meals, watching the moonlight play with the waves. Kavanagh glanced over to his friend, feeling something warm and fuzzy pool in his belly. The flickering candles caused a soft glow on Allan’s calm features, making his eyes sparkle with gold…

Must be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked calmly.

“Doing what?”

“This. Dinner, candles… the only thing missing is a violin suite in the background.”

Allan chuckled. “Right. And fireworks in the sky. This is the epitome of romance.” There was an easy smile on his features.

Kavanagh wouldn't be able to say what triggered the outburst, the smile or the whole setting, but he would go for the smile.

“Don’t do that!” he snapped all of a sudden.

Allan blinked, confusion in his eyes. “What?”

Kavanagh carelessly placed his glass on the ground, ignoring the sharp clink. He felt the sudden bitterness inside him explode in a sharp humorless laughter.

“Being ‘nice’. You must have heard the rumors already!”

“I have heard, but I haven’t listened,” Allan agreed.

“Sure!” Calvin snorted.

Atlantis was a rumor mill and everyone had something to say about everyone. And he knew just what people liked to say about him. 'Anal retentive' was even a compliment among the many descriptions he was given.

“I don’t listen to gossip. Cal, what’s wrong?

“This! All of this. What is this, damnit? Where’s the hidden camera, and who’s the laughing audience?” he exploded into Allan’s shocked face.

He didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to feel the sharp pang of betrayal again after he thought he had found something akin to a friend. He had never had real friends. People used him, picked his mind, stole his papers. Armbruster had taught him a lesson in so many ways, and Kavanagh still lived by those lessons learned. The moment he let anyone close he would pay for it.

“Calvin, I don’t… wait, you think this is a practical joke?” Allan blurted wide-eyed.

“What else?! Lots of effort for a fuck! Go to hell!”

It hurt. Like the Wraith cutting into his being and ripping it out. He couldn’t stand it any more and rose, heading toward the door. He didn’t want to be here anymore, see the man he had considered a friend and…

“Calvin, wait. Please!”

Maybe it was the ‘please’, maybe it was the tone but he stopped, breathing heavily, pushing down his emotions. He could hear Allan behind him, the slide of a drawer, wood…

“Here.”

Turning he glanced over his shoulder at the thing Allan showed him. A picture frame? Looking more closely now he discovered the picture of a man, fair-haired -- in a dress uniform?

“This is Major Sean Wallace. He died on August thirteenth, two years ago.”

Yesterday…

“He was a member of SG12. The circumstances of his death are classified.”

So, it meant there was something utterly wrong, disturbing or simply horrifying about that. Allan doubtlessly knew that, too.

“One of his team members told me, though. They were captured by a Goa’uld, I’ve forgotten which one in which pantheon, and he chose Sean as the first to be interrogated.”

Kavanagh paled slightly. He had heard of some of the interrogation techniques the Goa’uld preferred. None of them pleasant.

“Of course there was nothing Sean could have told him, so when he was finished with him he gave him over to his Jaffa as a… plaything.”

This time Allan’s so far dull voice cracked.

“And they were motivated, wanted to please their ‘god’, so obviously they got creative.”

Kavanagh felt the acid burn in his throat at the very thought. He had faced only one ‘interrogation’ so far - and had fainted before that had even started – but Ronon Dex could be one very scary guy. No doubt creative, too.

“They made his team watch and listen. He didn’t die alone.”

Oh god…

“Why are you telling me all this?” Kavanagh croaked.

“We were together for five years. He wasn’t asked and he didn’t tell, but he didn’t hide, either. And he thankfully never faced any ‘repercussions’. He was accepted among his peers.”

“Again, why are you telling me?”

“I loved him, Calvin, and when I lost him… that way… let’s just say, it’s not a coincidence I applied for transfer to Atlantis. It hit me hard, and… well, not that I wanted to follow him. He was Air Force for a reason, he wanted to protect other people, and he surely would want me to live. Want me to be happy again. When I met you on the Daedalus, when we started to talk… it touched something inside me, and that’s been growing ever since. This is no joke! I like you, Calvin Kavanagh, a lot, and I don’t want to hurt you, on the contrary. I care for you. I want to get to know you, the real you, because when I look at you, I don’t see the man those rumors describe. I see a man who has been hurt and has built walls around him as thick as Fort Knox, a man with a deeply ingrained sense of justice, a man who loves his job and fights teeth and nails for what he thinks is right. A man with a healthy sense of self-preservation. And a man full of fire and passion.
Do I want to fuck you? No. Would I want to know what you look like when you lose yourself in your passion? How you smell, taste, sound? How your skin would feel on mine? Hell, yes. Over and over again.”

It felt like a baseball bat to his gut, leaving him gasping for air and lightheaded. Allan’s green eyes were resting on him, watching him…

“I’m falling in love with you right now, Calvin Jason Kavanagh,” Allan said softly.

And that did it.

He fled.

* * *

It was one of those storms that hit Atlantis around late summer. It wasn't the huge hurricane that had threatened to destroy the City, but it was strong, gale force blasts beating against the ancient structure, and everything had been locked down. Inside the City there was barely any detectable movement from the stormy waters. Gate travel continued as before, everyone worked his or her project, and at night, when it was quiet, you could hear the howls like a far away whisper.

Kavanagh had found himself unable to sleep. Ever since the confession from Allan he had been avoiding the intensivist, his mind whirling with what was going on. Now he had sought out a deserted area, close enough to the main core of the city to be safe, but far enough that no one would stumble over him.

The rain was beating against the window panes and the waves were crashing into the piers below. Kavanagh watched, feeling strangely calmed by the violent spectacle.

Allan had said he was falling in love. With him. Good god, why him of all people? And what did O'Rourke want from him? Maybe it was a skewed way of thinking, maybe it was the pessimistic side in him that reminded him that no one gave him something for free. Another lesson learned.

So why would O'Rourke want this from him? Why would he want sex? Kavanagh was a physicist, O'Rourke a medical doctor. There was nothing he could give him knowledge-wise that would advance the other man. It had to be the physical part then.

But why him?

O'Rourke was handsome, he could get anyone, so why the suspected traitor? Why the man who had come back to a place where he was as alone as he was on Earth, with the difference that this was a mostly unexplored city of the Ancients?

There was no answer in the waves, in the water all around him.

And what answers he could give himself scared Calvin to death. He was terrified of the small spark that had been ignited inside him. A spark he didn't have the strength any more to fight.

* * *

A week had passed since that evening and Kavanagh had fled into the only safe world he knew: science. No one bothered him and no one asked if he was okay. No one noticed anyway. McKay was off world with Sheppard's team. Kavanagh's mind was still whirling with O'Rourke's 'confession' and whenever he recalled it, he also saw the sincerity, the warmth, the smile, the plea.

Why? he asked himself. Why not someone else?

There were more than enough handsome men out here. And Allan was drop-dead handsome, too. He could get whoever he wanted.

Why me?

"Cal?"

The soft, quizzical voice drew him out of his thoughts and Kavanagh looked up to see Allan standing in the doorway.

He had never really noticed that he was taller than him, just as slender, and that the dark hair was such a contrast to his fairer skin and the intense green eyes. O'Rourke liked to dress casually when he could, but right now he was wearing his doctor outfit.

Kavanagh pushed those thoughts aside.

"Hey," Allan said, smiling tentatively. "I was heading for dinner. I was wondering if I could interest you in the latest of culinary experiments?"

Kavanagh found himself smiling a little. "Okay. Uhm… now?"

"It's a good time. Still empty and the food's hot."

He hesitated. His project was running on a high and he hated to leave it alone.

"I could get us something and we eat here," Allan offered at his expression of hesitancy. He suddenly smiled and before Kavanagh could say something he added, "I'll do just that. You do whatever it is you're doing, I'll be back."

And he was gone, only to return half an hour later with two trays loaded with food and drink.

"Here you go. You can eat and still watch that doohickey of yours."

Kavanagh shot him an outraged look, but it withered in the face of the lop-sided smile. Damn the man.

"It's not a doohickey," he still said, voice serious and scolding. "It's an Ancient device, probably something related to the personal shield McKay discovered." He grimaced. "And which he depleted and which is of no use. This might recharge shields or it might feed them with more energy. I'm still trying to get to the core unit and find the general codes."

"Ah." Allan studied the small device that consisted largely of crystals and lots of Ancient circuitry.

They ate in silence while O'Rourke kept glancing at things that littered Kavanagh's lab. He had taken on several research projects that didn't need a whole team, mainly because rarely anyone liked him on a team and he felt better working alone. In a way he could relate to McKay on that matter. The man liked his peace and quiet, too. Sometimes he dropped off something he worked on with a fellow scientist whose area of expertise was probably more related to what he had thought was something else.

"You know, this looks a bit like my Uncle's radio shack," O'Rourke remarked, smiling.

Kavanagh felt something inside of him bristle. The smile caught him and he deflated a little, still shooting the other man dangerous looks. They went back to eating. Whatever it was, it tasted like meatloaf and potatoes, so Kavanagh didn't really want to know what it was supposed to be.

"Cal?" Allan finally said.

He looked up. The other man was serious. Something inside him knotted up. He had desperately wished to ignore what had been said the last time. He didn't want this discussed again, but part of him pleaded that it was true. It had to be real.

"I was serious the last time."

He swallowed hard and put down the fork.

"I meant it. I'm not playing games and there are no cameras. Cal, I like you. A lot. And I fell for you. Slowly. It developed over time. I want your friendship and I like what we do together. I fell in love with you."

There it was again. The word. Love. Kavanagh stared at the half empty dinner plate.

"Calvin?"

"I'm not sure this is good."

"Why?"

"You said you heard what they say about me."

"Yes. And I don't listen to it. I met you before we came here and what everyone tells me doesn't fit the man I got to know." Allan looked imploringly at him. "I made up my own picture of you. I like what I see. I want a chance, Calvin. Please? I mean, if you… we spent very nice evenings together and you didn't run when I touched you."

Sitting so close together. Closer than friends. Sharing the bed to watch a movie. Warm green eyes regarding him affectionately. A closeness that wasn't purely physical and still, there had been touches. A hand on his shoulder, on his arm, on his back.

Kavanagh exhaled shakily.

Yes, he had liked the contact. He could have put a stop to it then and there, but he hadn't.

"I liked it," he finally said. "I'm just not sure if there is more. For either of us."

"I think there is. Give us a chance, please?"

There were many reasons to say no. Just as many to say yes. The lonely part in him screamed at him to say yes, and it screamed the loudest. He wanted someone to share a bed with, to feel a warm body next to him, however long it would last – because he had no illusions. All this wooing and gentle coaxing was only getting Allan one thing: a body with him in bed he could fuck.

Kavanagh suppressed an ironic grin and schooled his features carefully. He looked into the deep green eyes and felt himself waver a little more in his opinion that this was a buddy fuck to happen.

"Okay," was all he managed.

Allan smiled. Not triumphantly. Just a smile. Happy. Relieved. Even loving. He reached out, a quizzical expression briefly on his features, and when Kavanagh didn't move, he touched one arm. His hand caressed the fabric of his jacket, exploring, the gaze never wavering from him. Their fingers brushed against each other and Kavanagh felt like a drowning man with a glass of water almost at his lips. Everything inside him was quivering with need while he remained so perfectly calm on the outside.

Golden sparkles tinted Allan’s green eyes as he slowly plucked the glasses from his nose, placing them carefully onto the table. And there were definitely sparks flying between them when he leaned in, hesitating for a second, a brief moment, question in his eyes, giving him one last way out…

With an explosive exhalation Kavanagh closed what little distance was left, bringing their lips together, carding his fingers through the thick black hair of the other man. The kiss was unexpectedly soft, a brushing of lips against lips, a gentle coaxing of a tongue asking him to open up, which he did.

Sighing softly he felt the body press against his, arms closing around him, hands stroking over his back, pulling him closer. Finishing the kiss Calvin closed his eyes, forehead resting on the other man’s shoulder, and Allan held him even tighter. Kavanagh was suddenly acutely aware of the other man’s body, his slightly increased breathing, heartbeat and body heat. There was a puff of warm air at his ear.

“I knew it,” Allan whispered.

“What?”

“You smell good… like the ocean.”

“We’re in a city that had been submerged beneath the ocean for ten thousand years.”

“I know. This is you, not the City. You smell like… home.”

Home? Never had anybody…

“Where is your home?”

Allan smiled at him, this soft warm smile that had floored him the first time he had seen it directed at him. It had reminded him of the looks a certain Colonel cast at a certain astrophysicist…

“Here. But I’m from Galway.” Allan ran his nails across one temple, brushing over the tightly bound hair.

Kavanagh found himself leaning into the caress and almost jerked back. It was already so familiar, so nice, he was having a difficult time holding back.

"How long will you work tonight?" O'Rourke asked.

"Ah, well, I…" Until he was finished, he thought. But now…? "Half an hour?"

The doctor nodded, kissing him softly again. "Want to come over? Movie? No nether intentions, Cal. Just… I'd love to finally hold you."

That had something very fuzzy and warm pool in Calvin's stomach. "Uh, okay. Half an hour. I can make it in half an hour."

He so sounded like McKay.

Allan nodded, kissing him a last time, then he detached himself and left the lab, Kavanagh's eyes following the tall, lean form all the way out. When O'Rourke was gone, Kavanagh drew a shaky breath.

Good god… what was he about to get into?

* * *

Rodney had kept half a mental eye on the mind-link to John and he knew that the moment Sheppard went sparring, that his lover was still thinking about all of this. When John came to his quarters two hours later, sweaty, bruised, but in a better mood than in Beckett's office – and all week -- Rodney only looked up briefly from his work. John gave him a wan smile and went into the shower. Afterwards, clad in sweat pants and one of those sinfully tight t-shirts that had Rodney fantasize about a lot of things he could do to that attractive body, John settled on the bed next to the physicist.

The smile on Sheppard's lips was almost mischievous and he leaned forward, pushing the laptop off Rodney's lap, kissing his lover. Rodney caught the dark head, threading fingers into the damp hair, pulling him close. John crawled onto his lap, settling over Rodney's thighs, deepening the kiss until McKay was groaning softly.

"You've been thinking," he gasped when they parted.

Hazel eyes were dark with arousal and Rodney wondered if it had been the work-out or if the Kiowata was taking over. As sensual as the alien life-form could be, it was also quite demanding. While Rodney usually ended up topping, he had a rather dominating and pushy bottom at his hands. And when it was the other way around, John using the link to channel the hypersensitivity into something incredibly pleasurable that drove Rodney wild, he usually ended up sore, spent and limp on the bed. Right now it looked like it could go either way. Sheppard was in a demanding mood and Rodney let himself go with the flow, answering the possessive kisses while also using his hands to get underneath that sinful shirt to access warm skin.

John moaned softly as he squeezed the tight ass with one hand, the other busy further up his back.

"Yeah," he managed. //God, Rodney!//

Yes, there was a nice hot spot there. Rodney liked to exploit them, have John writhe and beg and plead, but he knew that the other way around was just as intense because he himself had those hot spots, too. Some he had never known about had been found by Sheppard pretty quickly.

//And?//

Rodney left a light bite at the smooth column of throat, making John twitch his hips. He caught a flurry of emotions over the link, John's indecision whether he wanted Rodney inside him or to be inside his lover, so the physicist took over for now. He mouthed a perked nipple through the shirt, drawing a little moan of pleasure.

//Rodney…//

//You trust in Carson's judgment//

//Yeah. Yes, right there… oh…//

The t-shirt went and Rodney licked and tongued the delicious nipple, one hand still grasping the tight ass.

//Good//

Sheppard drew back, breathing hard, one nipple red and glistening, his face flushed. He pushed to his feet and stripped off the sweat pants, giving Rodney a nice view from his seated position. McKay began to open his own pants and shed his jacket, but before he was completely naked John stopped him.

//Let me. Like this//

There were more images and Rodney felt himself harden painfully.

//Want you… like this… now…//

Rodney fumbled for lube and the small tube was taken from his fingers as Sheppard took it upon himself to prepare himself. It was the hottest thing Rodney had seen him do yet. His hand was stroking his hard erection, blue eyes never leaving the slender body, watching each move, taking in the grimace of pleasure as Sheppard used his fingers to slicken up his entrance.

Pleasure rolled through the link, hot and heavy, and Rodney groaned.

//Now!// he whispered harshly. "John…"

Sheppard was suddenly there, kissing him, sliding over his lap, excess lube slickening his arousal, and ten he was right there, so tight, so hot, so incredibly slow. Rodney heard the moan, saw the grimace reappear as John lowered himself onto him, breaching him, and Rodney had to hold on not to just push up or pull him down.

The Colonel's eyes were dark with need and lust and pleasure and suddenly he did push down, making both of them cry out at the move. Rodney almost came then and there.

"Oh god," he groaned.

John sat on him, totally naked, and Rodney was still partially dressed, and it felt so dirty and erotic and incredibly hot and powerful in one. It was the same overwhelming sensation he had had when John had taken him a few nights back, playing another fantasy, bending over the table and really driving into him.

Hypersensitivity be damned, he had clutched the desk and just felt, let John take the overflow of sensation and channel it into something that wouldn't let him black out from the power of it all.

Now… looking at his lover, it was the same. John wrapped his arms around his neck, their lips meeting into a sensual contact, tongues dancing against each other, and then Sheppard started to move.

Everything seemed to melt into just one focus for Rodney, into John, into the connection he had with John, and when climax hit him, it was like a supernova going off. He cried out his lover's name and John groaned, sinking forward into Rodney's arms. He was shaking and breathing hard, the mind-link awash with his emotions.

Neither man spoke of revealing John's abilities to O'Rourke for the rest of the night. Rodney was too busy with his Colonel for that.

* * *

In a way Allan was courting him. Kavanagh had no other word for it. They still met on the nights they both had time, watching movies or just having dinner. There were kisses, touching each other, but O'Rourke wasn't dragging him off to bed. He would come by the lab when their shifts overlapped and neither had any free time to spend, and they simply talked for a while or just had a quick snack together.

It was nice.

It made Calvin feel… strange.

Miles had been rather forward with his approach of the eighteen-year old physics student. He had offered private lessons, which had pretty quickly turned from studying to being a project. Kavanagh still remembered the lustful looks, the hands on his body, and him coming right then and there when Armburster had jerked him off. The older man had made it clear that he wanted one thing from Kavanagh, and back then he had been rather eager to give it. It had been an incredible pleasure, the man had known how to make him come in all kinds of ways, and while no boundaries had been crossed, something had been torn from Kavanagh that time.

O'Rourke wasn't trying to get into his pants. He was actually quite ready to leave it at sliding his hands under Kavanagh's shirt and just caressing him, but Calvin himself felt he needed to take this the next step.

He wanted Allan. He had started to have wet dreams about him. And much to his embarrassment he had already jerked off to his image in the shower.

He felt eighteen again.

So he acted. For the first time since they had gotten together, Calvin Kavanagh acted and initiated the next step. There was surprise in the green eyes of his lover, then Allan smiled into the kiss that grew and deepened.

Lips were claiming his, hard and soft at the same time, hands on his body, running over his chest, slipping under the shirt, caressing, stroking, pushing the fabric out of the way, exposing him to hungry green eyes, exposing the scars… he made a protesting sound, but Allan simply bent down and kissed the still sensitive flesh. His lips traced the most prominent of the four scars that had remained. It was still red and would only fade to white in time. It ran from just beside his left nipple downward. The others were red, too, but not so long, and the feeding wound was jagged but not deep. It wouldn't leave more than a faint patch of lightly scarred skin.

“You’re alive, Cal,” he whispered. “I saw this before.”

He had treated it. He had removed the stitches, had applied a salve, had checked the injury several times. But Allan had never touched it in such a manner, in this context, and Kavanagh felt strangely self-conscious.

And then O'Rourke directed his attention toward even more sensitive areas on his chest, making him sob and arch with the rush of sensation. Skin on skin, slick, hot, and fingers and lips and tongue all over him, slowly, carefully, lovingly and yes, right there, inside him, fullness, and now please, and oh gawd!!

Crying out with liquid fire consuming nerve endings, molten lava running down his spine, and more, even more, and yes, yes!! Hoarse screams of completion, swallowed by those talented lips, shuddering, trembling, right with him, moaning.
 

Lying on the pillows with deep, sated exhaustion, Kavanagh stroked the sweaty back of his lover, played with the damp black locks at his neck, feeling Allan sigh and slowly withdraw from his body, only to snuggle close again, head resting on his chest.

“We’re sticky,” Calvin muttered.

“Don’t care,” was the lazy reply. “Love you.”

* * *

They had flown to the mainland again, under the guise of Rodney testing something or other he hadn't made up but existed. It just wasn't a real test of the thing. It was John needing to stretch his Kiowata legs and Rodney coming along. It had almost been ten months now since the first transformation, and three months since the Chimera had returned to her home galaxy. Well, hopefully returned safe and sound and in one piece with seven crew members all alive and well. Sheppard had frequently tried out his shape-changing and it had become very easy and fluent for him. They went to abandoned areas to try out his shifting, but nothing beat the mainland.

Rodney watched the Kiowata playfully run and jump and kick back and whinny. For those early moments after the transformation, after weeks of being human, the horse took over for a short while and just enjoyed. Rodney felt it in his mind. He had never shielded himself against this happiness, because he felt the same.

Trotting over to him, John playfully nuzzled his head and Rodney scratched the dark brown cheeks, patting the muscular neck, and then told his lover to run. It was a ritual, John confirming he was good to go and Rodney reassuring him that it was okay to leave him alone.

Powerful muscles coiling under smooth, dark fur, the Kiowata was off. John was always pleading with him to ride along, to be with him, but Rodney didn't really like riding, though he knew it might be a good idea to learn it somehow. You never knew…

Now he leaned back against a tree and turned to the work he had to do, the tests he wanted to run, and absorbed himself in data. John's presence was in the back of his mind, enjoying his freedom, and McKay smiled to himself without even being aware of it.
 
 

It was late in the afternoon that John changed back, looking windblown and deliciously happy. Rodney didn't want to put a damper on the good mood, but he asked the burning question anyway.

"So… well let Carson tell O'Rourke? Get a back-up medic?"

John gulped down some water, then met the serious blue eyes. He finally nodded. "Yes. Not happy about it, but I understand the necessity. It's a risk we can't take. If Beckett isn't around and something happens to either of us because of the link, Elizabeth can run interference, but she can't treat any kind of injuries."

Rodney shuddered. He didn't want to think about injuries. John smiled softly and moved closer to him through the mind-link.

//Not saying there will be injuries//

//There will be// Rodney murmured. //Yes, there will be. Always injuries. Always scrapes and bruises and bullet wounds and people wielding knives and bugs biting you and life-sucking aliens and…//

//Rodney//

The soft voice drew him out of the haze of memories. He swallowed hard, feeling emotions well up inside him.

//We'll talk to Beckett// Sheppard told him. //And then we'll see how O'Rourke takes the whole news//

Rodney laughed softly. //He'll be as freaked as we all were//

//Probably// John moved physically closer as well, enjoying the contact.

They enjoyed the openness of the mainland, the warm air, the sun, the peace that was there for just a moment. It would be time to go back soon, before the sun set, and they both decided to make the most of it.

* * *

Kavanagh was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It would drop. He knew it. No one had ever taken a romantic interest in him. Armbruster had used him. Later he had had one-night stands. It had been just for the momentary gratification, or because someone needed a rebound fling after a bad relationship, and sometimes it was just pure need to feel someone slide into him. So Allan O'Rourke fell into the same category for him. This was temporary. There would be a day when the doctor told him it was over, that he had enough, and then Calvin would be alone again.

Allan O’Rourke was a good-looking man, all tall, dark and handsome, and Kavanagh had seen more than one woman bat her eyelashes at the nice doctor. He wasn’t entirely sure Allan would drop him for one of them, but he expected him to do so for another man. Because there was a catch, there had to be. Allan wanted him for something, but he had no idea what that might be. Well, except for the sex, but that he could get elsewhere, so what was it? Kavanagh was sure that one day his lover – yeah, right – would not appear on his doorstep to a date, would walk in hours late with this fake smile on his face that said, ‘sorry, darling, I was kept’ but truly meant ‘I totally forgot about you’. Or he wouldn’t show up at all and shower him with apologies the next morning…

For now he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the attention and the evenings together, the warmth the other man presented. Warmth and safety and a way out of the loneliness. Not every night was filled with sex, but most of them. Sometimes they just lay together, Allan running his hands over Kavanagh's body, and they watched something on the screen.

Nice.

Too nice.

It would end.

It was when O'Rourke didn't come to their next date that Kavanagh felt a slight stab of premonition. Allan had been late before, of course. He was a doctor and if there was an emergency case, he would be later than planned. But he had never missed a date completely. So the physicist had gone to bed, read some articles, and dropped off to sleep. He didn't see Allan the next morning either and he wondered where he was.

He hadn’t thought that this day would come so early, though. And he hadn’t thought it would hurt so much.
Kavanagh found out just what had kept the other man from coming over as promised when he heard the first gossip among the scientists that refugees had come through the Gate.

He heard the truth from McKay, of all people.

"Lorne's team came in hot," Rodney said to someone else, Kavanagh just listening in. "There were about a dozen or two refugees from the planet. Lots of injured. Carson's in over his head. The third wave just arrived and it's a mess down there."

Kavanagh tried not to jump up and run to the medical facilities to check how Allan was. He held on to his coffee mug and feigned disinterest. It lasted all five minutes and then he strode out of the mess hall and toward the medical wing.

Walking into the infirmary had him stepping into purgatory. It was a mess – people running around, carrying things, shouting things – and there was blood. Lots of it.

“Dr. Kavanagh, are you hurt?” An exhausted nurse brushed part him, stopping for a second to look him over. There were rust colored splatters on her scrubs…

“No, I’m just looking for Dr. O’Rourke…”

“Then please do so outside.”

And with that she firmly started to push him out before rushing back into the chaos.

There was a commotion somewhere further back, someone was yelling and screaming, and it sounded desperate and in pain. A loud clattering sound followed, then more cries, a roar like an angry bear, and Kavanagh saw a burly man in native garb storm toward the exit – right toward him. There was a security detail all of a sudden, grabbing the man, wrestling him to the ground. He still fought, crying, tears on his face, teeth bared. Beckett was there, jabbing a needle into the man's arm, and finally there was some quiet.

Kavanagh felt his heart thud in his chest, his adrenaline higher than before, and part of him wanted to run and crawl into his bed.

"Get him to one of the empty rooms," Beckett ordered. "I'll be right there."

The Scot suddenly looked at Kavanagh and frowned briefly, then turned back to his staff, barking orders. When everyone was busy with his or her task, Beckett's attention was on Calvin again.

"Dr. Kavanagh?"

"Uh, yes?"

"Can I ask a favor of you?"

Kavanagh tensed a little. "What favor?" he asked suspiciously.

"I need someone to take Dr. O'Rourke back to his quarters before I do the same to him that I did to our grieving husband."

There was a knot in Kavanagh's stomach and he fought for composure. "I'm not a baby-sitter, Dr. Beckett," he told the medic, trying to project his normal attitude.

He was probably failing miserably because the comment got him a smile.

"No, you're not, but you and Allan are friends. He's prone to listen to friendly advice from non-medical personnel." Before Kavanagh could say something, Beckett raised a hand. "Allan has been in surgery for the past twenty hours. He lost the last patient due to complications. You just saw her husband trying to tear these facilities apart. Allan needs rest."

The knot intensified and Kavanagh found himself nodding, much to his chagrin. Beckett smiled again and led him to the back where the surgical rooms were. The knot turned into a fist when Calvin saw one of the other doctors examining O'Rourke. There was an angry bruise forming on the man's neck and face. Everything about him reflected exhaustion and pain, and when Allan looked at him, Calvin cringed a little. The usually sparkling green eyes were dull, his skin had a grayish tinge… exhausted didn’t even start to describe it.

"Take him to his quarters," Beckett could be heard. "And I don't want to hear any protests," the medic added, addressing his colleague.

O'Rourke slid unsteadily off the bed and Kavanagh felt himself twitch forward, as if to help him. Allan looked stubborn and determined as he made his way to the exit. Calvin kept an eye on him, silent until they reached O'Rourke's quarters.

"Cal?" Allan asked, voice raspy.

Kavanagh winced. "Yes?"

"Could you…? Please?"

The expression in the green eyes was so tired and exhausted, Calvin felt his defenses break. He entered the semi-dark room and accompanied Allan over to the bed. The intensivist started to strip, each move leaden and without grace.

"Come here," Kavanagh murmured and helped with the shirt, hands briefly brushing over the neck injury.

O'Rourke swayed a little.

"You think you can manage a shower?"

"I hope so," was the whispered reply. "I smell."

Kavanagh smiled as he undid the pants and slid them down the long legs. O'Rourke stepped out, holding on to the physicist's shoulders.

The shower was an unerotic affair, a necessity, and Calvin pushed the other man toward the bed. His eyes were on the bruises again.

"He got you," he murmured.

Allan closed his eyes. "He was angry. He lost his wife. It was bad, Cal. Really bad. There were so many of them, some terribly mutilated by the explosions. We had to take one little girl's arm. The woman… she bled out. She had been speared by something that tamponaded the wound, but she had already lost too much blood and it just gushed out… We couldn't get it in fast enough…"

His voice was almost toneless and Kavanagh felt something inside him shudder. He was at Allan’s side before he even realized it, wrapping his arms around the slightly trembling form wordlessly, feeling the usually strong man in his arms mourn silently.

Kavanagh didn't think twice to get onto the bed with him and Allan curled up close, an arm over Calvin's waist, burying his face against his side. A tremor went through the lean frame and Kavanagh held him, placing soft kisses onto the bare skin. His hands stroked over the warm flesh and something inside of him trembled in turn.

"Get some sleep," was all he managed.

He was ill-equipped to deal with such emotional outbreaks. They got him on a totally wrong foot. Especially sad emotions.

Allan fell asleep after a while, a limp weight next to him, and pale blue eyes studied the injuries. After a while Kavanagh reached for the book on the side table. It wasn't his, but he had seen Allan read it and he had read over the contents on the back, found it interesting. He wasn't tired, but he also didn't want to leave for his own quarters, so he started the novel and kept an eye on the sleeping man beside him.

* * *

Kavanagh woke to the realization that he had dozed off fully clothed in O'Rourke's quarters, in his bed. His glasses were askew, the book had dropped onto the floor, and Allan was still at his side, sleeping soundly. Kavanagh took off the glasses and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't planned on staying the whole night. There had been a project waiting in one of the smaller labs, and he had intended to get on with it, but now…

It was close to five, the sun was not yet up, and the light was still a bit murky. Kavanagh untangled himself from the other man. He stretched, feeling a bit stiff, and padded over to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, for the first time actually noting that he had a spare tooth brush at the intensivist's place. There weren't any clothes so far, and right now he really needed them.

A soft noise alerted him to a presence and Calvin turned, looking into the green eyes of Allan O'Rourke. Dark hair tousled, looking sleepy and still exhausted, even after getting some rest, Kavanagh felt a wave of affection that scared it.

"Hey."

"Hey," came the rough reply.

The bruises were by now in full bloom and before he could stop himself, Calvin reached out to touch. He let his hand fall away, embarrassed. O'Rourke smiled a little, then grabbed his hand and pulled him close. Kavanagh didn't resist, didn't fight. He just…took those last few steps and met the gentle kiss with a hunger that shocked him even more. Touching the naked skin he held his lover close.

Allan trembled a little, the effects of the day before still not out of his system, and Kavanagh wrapped his arms tightly around the slender form.

"You didn't have to stay," Allan murmured, burying his head against his neck.

"I fell asleep." But I wanted to stay, he thought.

Allan chuckled a little. "Yeah. Bed's nice."

He couldn't argue with that. They had spent some time in that bed, in various ways of undress, various ways of having sex, touching each other. Kavanagh was intimately acquainted with the bed and its owner.

"I've to be back," O'Rourke murmured.

"Beckett told you to rest."

"I did. You don't know how many people there are, Cal. How many need help."

"How many hit you for your efforts," Kavanagh said coolly.

"He was grieving."

"He hit you!"

Green eyes showed exasperation. "He won't do it again. It's the first time I had a volatile and violent patient. He lost his wife, Cal. After he lost his home. He overreacted and I was in the way."

Kavanagh wanted to push the other man against the wall, kiss him into submission, keep him here, but he didn't. He just looked at O'Rourke, then nodded once and released him.

"Dinner?" Allan asked, a hopeful note in his voice. "I know I missed the day before. And I'm sorry I didn't let you know. Let me make it up to you?"

"There's nothing to make up to. You had an emergency. It happened."

But at the time Kavanagh had felt different. Still… looking into those eyes, seeing such vulnerability there, he couldn't keep up the façade.

"Dinner then?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Eight?"

Kavanagh nodded and it got him a smile. Allan kissed him again, then headed for the shower. As much as Calvin wanted to stay, watch the play of muscle under smooth skin, enjoy the show, he had to leave. The project was still on his mind and he would be late for work if he lingered.

"Tonight," he said softly.

Allen smiled at him from the shower. It was a smile full of promise and delight.

And the day passed in a hazy blur for Calvin Kavanagh.

* * *

Dr. Allan O'Rourke's reaction to what Beckett told him about Sheppard was rather… normal. Rodney couldn't put it any other way. The green eyes sparked with interest, but there was no shock, no surprise, no disgust. It was like watching a carbon copy of Carson, with the medical interest, the questions rising inside the other man, and McKay knew that they had made the right decision.

"I'll forward all files to you," Beckett told his colleague. "All of this isn't public knowledge, like I told you. Only Elizabeth knows."

O'Rourke nodded. "I understand. In case of questions…"

"As long as you don't stick needles in me for the pure of it," John said calmly, "I'll answer whatever you want to know."

And he would change into his Kiowata form to help, Rodney caught that thought. Sheppard was thawing when it came to showing what he was to others.

"Thank you. I appreciate the trust."

Rodney didn't say anything, just studied the intensivist. He didn't know O'Rourke as well as Beckett, but he knew how important it was to have someone else there. It was vital. Better him than Biro or whoever else hung around this place.

//I trust him, Rodney. Really// John sent.

//Instinct?//

//Kinda//

Okay. He left it at that. They would have to wait and see what came of the new cooperation.

* * *

Fingers brushed over his skin, igniting nerve endings and leaving a fiery path. Calvin felt the pressure of a leg, parting his thighs, hand sliding beneath the waistband, and he bucked into the teasing touch, moaning and clenching his hands into his lover’s shirt.

“God, I love it when you let go like this,” Allan whispered hoarsely into his ear, “I love to hear you come undone and moan…“

He froze.

… a husky voice …
… clouded dark eyes …
“I love the sounds you make. C’mon, moan for me, baby… yeah, that’s it … let me in, baby, let me in … “

The words were repeating themselves in his mind over and over, feeling like a bucket of ice water thrown over him.

Calvin bolted.
 
 

He clutched the sink in the bathroom with white knuckled fingers, struggling to get himself back under control, willing his nausea down as he tried to take deep breaths. Looking up he caught his reflection in the mirror – wide eyes, pale face – and he had to look away again. That wasn’t him! That wasn’t him…

There was a soft sound from the bathroom door and Calvin squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the expected question, the reproach…

“What did I trigger?”

Allan’s voice was soft, his tone quiet.

“Trigger?”

“Yes. That was a flashback if I’ve ever seen one.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he snapped.

Please, don’t… just don’t.

“Calvin, I’m a physician, I used to work in an emergency room, among other things. I have some experience with abuse survivors.“

Calvin straightened and brushed past his lover back into the living area.

“I still don’t know what you mean. I wasn’t raped or something.”

“I vote for the ‘something’. Calvin, I said abuse. That could contain rape, but doesn’t necessarily have to. First of all it’s about abusing and using someone, taking advantage of someone’s situation.”

Allan was still speaking softly, leaning against the wall and watching him, not trying to get into his personal space, and Calvin found he was grateful for that. He couldn’t have handled pity or comfort in form of touch right now.

“What did he do to you?”

“Allan…

“Please? I want to know what I’m in here. I don’t want to cause anything just because I don’t have the slightest idea I’m wandering through a minefield right now.”

“Oh, thank you very much, that makes me feel so much better now.”

“So you are feeling bad.”

“I’ve never talked about it,” he muttered, his inside very much at war with himself, for one part wanted to talk, spill it, have Allan know and understand; the other was pretty much repelled by the idea itself, not wanting Allan to know anything and certainly not expecting him to understand.

Allan tilted his head questioningly.

“If you don’t want to talk about it now or with me, that’s okay. But you have to get it out of your system sooner or later, or it’s going to poison you even more. I say it has eaten pretty much of you already, hasn’t it?”

And for the first time since he had bolted from the bed he looked at his lover, meeting jade green eyes and utter calmness, and just nodded.

“Can I sit with you?” Allan asked softly and again he could only nod.

When the mattress dipped beside him Calvin crossed his arms in front of him, pretty much hugging himself, and – very slowly – started to speak. He didn’t stop for the next thirty minutes and all his lover did was listen.
 

“As you can see, I wasn’t abused.”

“That’s pretty much abuse in my book, and everybody else’s, too. He took advantage of you, of your youth, and he used just that to get what he wanted. I can see where you’re coming from now.”

Allan was still quiet, and still there were no words of pity or suggestions ‘to get over it’. That he knew too well, too.

“You know,” Allan slipped off the bed and toward a cabinet, “I have some good old-fashioned whisky in here somewhere. Assuming you could use a drink, that is.”

“I’m not a victim!”

“No. You’re a survivor. He used you.”

“That seems to be the story of my life,” Calvin said bitterly.

“What?”

“Oh please! Can we stop pretending now? All this wining and dining me thing? You make it look really good, O’Rourke, almost convincing. What’s in it for you?”

Allan stared at him from large green eyes.

“What the heck are you talking about, Cal?” he asked very slowly.

“Sure you’re lonely, I give you that. We all get that sooner or later in this hellhole, and we all could use some comfort and a warm body to cling to when the nights are getting cold. And it’s getting pretty damn cold in the Pegasus galaxy. What are you seeing in me, your dead partner?”

O’Rourke had gone very still and pale at the harsh words, and Kavanagh felt something inside him flutter at the sight, but he just couldn’t stop the words that were flowing out of his mouth, laden with all the bitterness and disappointments that had built up in the past ten years.

"Sean died two years ago, Calvin. I'm over it."

"So that's why you still have his photo and raise a drink on his death day?!"

"Yes," O'Rourke said quietly. "Because I honor his memory. I loved him. He died for others to live, for me to live. He died doing his job. It's why I am here today. We were together for five years. He wasn't a fling either. But he's dead. It doesn't stop me from living now… from loving again."

"And I'm alive. Alive enough to warm your bed until the next fuck?"

“You’re accusing me of using you? Cal, that’s low," Allan replied. "I don’t think I ever gave you reason to believe I’m not honest with you. Speaking of replacements – how am I to know that I’m not a substitute for McKay? It was him you fell in love with after all. I told you I love you, and I meant it. I didn’t expect to hear it from you, but I had hope you’d at least feel it. ”

Kavanagh’s eyes widened and his breath hitched with those words.

He had… hadn’t he?

“I’m over McKay,” he got out.

“Maybe. But I don’t know that, do I?”

This time Allan’s voice was very soft, more sad than anything, and Kavanagh felt his throat go dry.

He was right.

God, Allan was right.

But… what did that mean?

Could he…?

And if…?

“I’m sorry. I need time, I need… sorry.”

And he ran. Again.

* * *

Kavanagh was horribly confused and hurt by the argument. Too much was crashing down on him, images of a past long gone, mixing with the rather pleasant present. There was Miles Armbruster, the man he had loved when he had been a freshman. A genius freshman, used by others, abused by his professor. He had loved the man, as much as an eighteen-year old could truly say he loved, and he had been used.

Then there was Rodney McKay, the man he actually admired, the man he had fallen in love with. Sheppard had taken that chance from him, though if Kavanagh was realistic, and he was, he had never had a chance. Even without Sheppard, they wouldn't have been able to get together.

So now there was Allan, and Allan confused him. He expected betrayal, but Allan claimed he loved him.
Kavanagh needed to talk to someone and the only someone he could think of was the man he had lusted after. Had. Past tense. Because he was over it. Rodney had his Colonel, Kavanagh… he thought he had had a chance, but after the argument…?

He sighed.

There was no one he could call a friend, aside from McKay, and it was where he finally ended up. Rodney was in his lab, talking with Zelenka about some new project. Zelenka caught sight of him and McKay turned, frowning a little.

"I need to talk to you," Kavanagh only said, voice neutral, stance tense.

"What about?" was the suspicious reply.

"Not here. In private."

The brows drew even further down, but Rodney pushed the papers he had been holding at Zelenka and gestured at Kavanagh to lead the way. He chose one of the empty project rooms, one that hadn't been in use ever since Miller had blown up something that had spilled bright orange paint over one wall. The paint still clung to the walls and it looked garish.

Kavanagh closed the doors.
 

Rodney wondered what the heck was going on. Kavanagh was pacing. He looked troubled, even worried, and there was a slightly ragged edge to him. The pale blue eyes were distant, a frown on his forehead, and there was a tension in the lean frame that had Rodney ache in sympathy with the muscle pain.

Kavanagh bit his lower lip, still restlessly moving around.

Rodney watched, waiting.

Nothing happened.

"If this is about me watching you pace, it's a waste of time."

Kavanagh glared at him, then sat down abruptly. "It's about Allan. He thinks he's a substitute for you."

Rodney's mouth dropped open and he stared at his former arch rival in disbelief.

"Oh, very nice imitation of a goldfish, McKay," Kavanagh snarled.

Rodney snapped his mouth shut. "Allan? What Allan? And what is he a substitute for. Oh!" Realization had hit him.

//Oh…// John echoed over the bond.

Kavanagh stared at him for a moment, shock settling in. "You didn't… know…"

"About you and some guy called Allan? No, I didn't. It's not exactly in the daily memos, Kavanagh!" Rodney snapped.

His mind was supplying him with images he so didn't need.

//But you day-dream anatomically correct// Sheppard commented.

//Shut up!//

"What Allan are we talking about?"

"O'Rourke."

//I knew it!// John triumphed.

//You didn't!//

"He's a doctor," Kavanagh added.

"Saw him before," McKay told him. "Nice guy. So you and he…?"

Kavanagh shrugged.

"Good for you. And where's the problem now?"

"I told you, McKay. He thinks he's a substitute for you!"

"Why? What did you do, Kavanagh? Call out my name?"

Calvin flushed. "No!"

"How come he knows about you lusting after me then?"

Oh, that sounded so bad.

//Lusting after you is fun// John could be heard.

//So not helping!// Rodney snapped.

"He figured it out," Kavanagh murmured.

"Why does everyone know about me?" McKay exploded. "I didn't know about you, I didn't know about Sheppard until… until…" He gesticulated. "Well… M7B-377. I'm always the last to know!"

Kavanagh seemed to sink in onto himself. He clasped his hands, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

"I'm over you, McKay. I like him," he said softly. "He isn't a substitute, but I told him… about Armbruster… because I had.. a reaction to something he said. And one word led to another. He said… I'm an abuse victim. I argued I wasn't. And then I told him that he's just using me, too."

Rodney stared at Kavanagh. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

//He told O'Rourke// he whispered.

//He trusted him and he pushed him away. He's got issues//

//I would. With what happened to him, I would for sure!//

Rodney sat down as well, meeting the pale blue eyes. Kavanagh looked tired. Rodney wasn't a shrink. He knew zilch about whatever someone was supposed to say or do in such a situation. He also hated mushy emotions, at least when he had to talk about them to someone other than John. But he also wanted to help.

"You love him?" McKay asked matter-of-factly.

"I… I like him. I like being with him."

"So you love him?"

"I guess…" Kavanagh sighed. "I think it's love. The last time I loved someone… it was different. And in the end I was dropped and thrown away."

"It doesn't have to be this way again. You're a grown man now, Kavanagh. And O'Rourke isn't Armbruster." Rodney grimaced. "No one can be Armbruster. The man was an asshole and a loser. He used his students to get his brownie points."

Kavanagh winced.

//Very subtle, Rodney//

//What? You want me to coddle him?//

John snorted. //You're not the coddling kind, I forgot//

//I'm not and he has to get over this// Rodney argued.

//He was abused, Rodney! You don't just get over it!//

//And you're the expert?//

//No, but doubts and fear aren't easily banished//

Rodney sighed softly and rubbed his forehead. "You love the guy," he said out loud. "And he said he loves you. I think it's time to jump over that shadow of yours, Calvin. Trust him."

"What if I am that rebound fling for him?"

"What makes you think that? Did he tell you?" McKay challenged.

"No. No, he didn't. But… his partner died, he came here… and there are others a lot better suited for the bed bunny part!" he almost yelled.

Rodney frowned.

//He's going for the 'looks count more than brains'// John translated.

"Rubbish," the physicist muttered, as much an answer to Kavanagh's exclamation, as it was a comment for John's.

Kavanagh frowned.

"You think everyone's just going for looks? Get your brain working, Kavanagh! You don't decide what O'Rourke finds attractive and wants. He likes you? Good for you. Just because you aren't Mr. July on some cheap supermarket calendar for 99 cents doesn't mean no one can find you attractive!"

That got him a stare.

"People have different tastes, and if you're O'Rourke's kinda guy, good for the two of you! I doubt you'd let him have a go at you if you didn't find him at least a little bit attractive, too." Rodney smirked as a blush crept up the pale features. "See?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what is? Only handsome people get to have sex?"

Kavanagh was silent. "I just don't see what he does," he muttered after a while.

"You're questioning this way too deeply."

"Wouldn't you?" the man cried. "In my shoes? If Sheppard suddenly showered you with affection? Oh wait,” came the sarcastic snarl, “he does. You got your jock. But I'm no hero! I'm not the lead scientist! I'm… you know what they all say about me! I'm a coward, a traitor, a prick… and so much more. I can't be someone else and I know I push people away, but he says he loves me!"

Rodney blinked. "So?"

He was still a bit stunned about the ‘you got your jock’ part, but he let it slide. For now.

//So he's waiting for the other shoe to drop// John said softly. //He's got issues. Really bad issues. Trust, for one//

"This was a bad idea," Kavanagh said and tried to push past Rodney, but he held him back.

Blue eyes bore into pale blue.

"You love him. He loves you. Get your head straightened out. You can run again, but there's nothing on Earth that will give you what you have here."

With that he let him go.

//Way to go on the psychological front, Rodney//

//Oh do shut up. Kavanagh has to come to a decision. He either stops running or he can just lock himself in an empty room and never come out again!//

John was thoughtful, contemplative. //You doubted us, too//

//I didn't//

//You did. You thought I was joking about the attraction//

Rodney snorted. //So?//

//So all you science geeks seem to think the jocks can't fall in love with you?//

//First of all, O'Rourke is not a jock. He's a doctor.//

Sheppard laughed. //So?//

//Not military//

//You can have non-military jocks. And the guy's a looker//

Rodney frowned. //What?//

//Jealous?//

//Of him? No, really not//

Rodney had by now walked back to his lab, but he by-passed it to get to Sheppard's office, which was on a different level and closer to the control room. John was alone at the moment and battling paper work that he hadn't been able to delegate to Lorne.

When Rodney walked in, he looked up and gave him a smile.

"Not jealous?" he asked out loud.

"No. No one can compete with me."

"Full of yourself much?" Sheppard teased.

"I just know my market value."

"You're not exactly the shy type."

Rodney ambled over to him. "No. I'm also not going to fall into the bottomless pit of insecurity like Kavanagh."

"Different history," Sheppard told him. "He's been burned."

"I know. Still no reason to throw everything away."

John shrugged and leaned back. "I've known people who, once burned, never got back on their feet. Love can hurt you that badly."

Rodney regarded him closely and Sheppard smiled easily.

"Not me. You'd know by now."

"I hope so. No nasty surprises."

"Not from me."

McKay sat down on the edge of the desk and ran a caress over Sheppard's arm. John gave him an affectionate look.

"I know you love me," Rodney said openly. "Because the mind-link tells me so. Maybe I would be a bit suspicious as to why you're attracted to me if not for that."

"You've got nothing to be self-conscious about, Rodney," Sheppard said softly.

McKay leaned down and kissed him, their lips brushing together.

//I love you the way you are// John added. //The attitude, the ego, the mind, the body, the whole package. I don't want perfection//

//Oh, thank you// was the sarcastic reply.

//Perfection is never perfect//

//You are// Rodney told him seriously.

Sheppard gave a wry laugh. //So not. I have too many faults to count and just because someone lusts after my body doesn't mean he loves what comes with it//

Rodney took his mouth into another firm, demanding kiss, deepening it slowly until John was moaning softly.

//This helps// he said, letting Sheppard know it was the mind-link he was talking about. //Knowing you. No hiding. Just… us//

And there truly was no hiding. This bond was complete openness. No lies, no hidden truths. They knew and trusted each other implicitly.

//Yeah// John murmured. //Even if it means having a needy Kiowata clinging to you//

//Don't mind the clinging. I like clinging//

The next kiss involved more open lips and tongues.

//Kavanagh will figure it out// Sheppard told him. //O'Rourke's a nice guy//

Rodney let his fingers play over one of his lover's hands, tracing the strong digits, exploring them in detail. It was something they did often – just touch. He knew John enjoyed it, wherever his fingers caressed him, and he smiled a little.

"They could use a connection, too," he remarked.

John laughed. "Yeah, right. Who would you want to see as a Kiowata? Kavanagh or O'Rourke?"

McKay grimaced. "I didn't mean one of them has to go through that! I said they needed a connection, to know the truth, to stop lying and hiding and running. Well, Kavanagh has to stop doing that," he added. "O'Rourke must be the most patient guy in this galaxy. Or in both galaxies."

Sheppard interlaced their hands, squeezing Rodney's. "He takes second place to you." //I didn't know you had the patience to let me freak as often as I did, and still be there, be there for me// He slightly ducked his head. //It was a new experience for me. You are a completely new experience for me//

Rodney scowled at him. //You're getting extremely mushy, Sheppard//

//I like being mushy around you//

That got him an eye-roll and a groan. "Good god!" Rodney muttered.

John smiled and pulled him into a little kiss. "And you got me for life."

"I knew I should have read the small print!" the physicist complained, but the light in the blue eyes negated the words.

"You should. Sorry. No return or refund." Sheppard grinned lop-sidedly.

"Who'd take you back anyway? The pound?"

Sheppard laughed and gave him a last kiss. "I need to get ready for debriefing the guys who came in an hour ago."

Rodney nodded and their hands slowly untangled. "You good?"

"Very good. See you later."

McKay left, feeling strangely warm and tingly, without even coming close to sex, and John's presence in his mind was a bonus. He caught himself from whistling and made it back to his lab without an accident. Zelenka just shot him a brief, quizzical look, then the Czech turned back to his own work with a little smirk.

Rodney glared at him, then pointedly sat down in front of the laptop that told him he still had to wait another fifteen minutes for the test run to be complete. So he had fifteen minutes to contemplate Calvin Kavanagh. An interesting way to pass the time.

* * *

They had worked quietly side by side, Rodney pouring over the data he had pulled from a device discovered in one of the unexplored areas and Kavanagh doing his own little project. Now and then he would shoot curious glanced at what McKay was doing until Rodney gave a loud sigh and turned abruptly, catching Kavanagh looking at him.

"Today's 'Staring at Rodney' day, right?" he snapped.

Kavanagh felt defenses flare, his face closing off. "I was merely thinking."

"About what?" Rodney demanded. "Me or how you can't get your mind off the gorgeous new trauma specialist?"

He flushed, then a flare of jealousy made itself known. What the fuck was McKay doing, thinking about Allan as gorgeous?

Rodney smirked that 'gotcha' smirk and Kavanagh gritted his teeth.

"I'm not," he growled.

"Not thinking about me? Good. Because you'd waste precious brain power. Not thinking about O'Rourke? One question: why?"

Kavanagh felt even more flustered.

McKay turned and faced him completely, that demanding expression on his face.

"None of your business," Kavanagh managed.

"It is if whatever it is you're working on blows up in your face. I don't do first aid. Not to mention getting killed myself."

"It's not going to blow up, McKay," was the acid answer.

"Good. Good. Now, you either go and clear your head or you quit thinking about hot bods."

"I wasn't thinking about him!" he cried.

Blue eyes narrowed a little. "And I repeat: why not? You two have been walking around each other on egg shells ever since that," he gestured with his hands, "whatever happened."

"Are you watching me, McKay?"

"It's hard not to since you keep getting under my feet!" Rodney snapped.

Kavanagh took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He felt a faint headache creeping up.

"Why did you take me back?" he asked all of a sudden.

McKay gave him a surprised look.

"I left after everyone thought I was a traitor," Kavanagh spat. "I was home, on Earth, away from the Wraith, and only with Goa'uld to worry about. O'Neill didn't say much, but the way he looked at me… I knew I was probably never going to get another chance. And then he asked me, out of the blue, weeks later, if I would go back to Atlantis! And that you had approved it! Why? Why take me back after everything that happened?"

"Because you're just that good," Rodney replied calmly, the snark and sarcasm suddenly gone. "We need the brilliant people here, and despite all your short-comings on a social level, you are that brilliant."

"Look who's talking about social skills," Calvin growled.

Rodney smirked. "My social skills are debatable, true. But politically I'm not as tone-deaf as you are. Insulting the expedition leader, sending a scathing report back to the SGC that sounds like a whiny kid took your place… that was just plain stupid, Calvin."

He looked away, not meeting the serious blue eyes. "It felt right at the time."

"At the time it happened there was a crisis. Even I know to step back on the personal issues and get the work done," McKay told him, voice harder now. "You complained about what Elizabeth said to you, in front of your team, but because you had to bring it up again everyone remembered it. Shit, Calvin, you are good! You solved the problem with the stuck 'Jumper. You saved our lives!"

"And no one listened to my security concerns!" he cried.

"Because they weren't primary!" Rodney yelled back. "Elizabeth and the others wanted to save the people in the 'Jumper, which included me, thank you!"

"It could have destroyed Atlantis!"

"Yes, and your concerns were noted by her. She made the decision. You have to live with that. Even Sheppard gets read the riot act by her. It's not personal, it never was. You made it that."

Kavanagh briefly buried his face in his hands, then scrubbed them over the pale skin.

"You're a brilliant scientist, Calvin," Rodney repeated. "It's why you came onto the expedition in the first place. Colonel Carter recommended you and I knew you were needed. Your psych profile was okay, too. Anal retentive is something you can live with out here." There was a lop-sided, wry smile on McKay's face. "You're a realist, which is good too. You know your science. What you have done here has affected many people, and I'm not talking about your attitude."

"Ha-ha, McKay. You got the bigger attitude of the two of us."

"I'm the bigger genius."

"Wishful thinking."

Rodney snorted. "Anyway," he concluded, "I wanted you back because of your brain, not your attitude. I can work with that. Hell, I've worked with it for a year before we were back in contact with the SGC. It's why I told O'Neill that if he didn't need you, he should boot you back here."

Pale blue eyes looked at Rodney. "And here I am."

"Yes, here you are. And you won't hear me praising you again like that, so enjoy it while it lasts. And go talk to O'Rourke, damnit!"

Kavanagh chuckled softly. "I wish it was as easy as trading insults with you."

"Hey," Rodney protested. "I'm not easy."

"No, you aren't. And I'm glad to consider you as something close to a friend."

Eyes narrowing, Rodney demanded, "Something close to a friend? What the hell are you talking about?"

Kavanagh pushed his glasses back on and slipped off the chair. "Forget it. I was wrong."

"No. No, wait. Kavanagh!" he barked when the other man wouldn't stop. "There is no such thing as 'close to'. You might be a prick with an attitude 95 % of the time, but I consider you a friend. And I would trust you," he added.

Kavanagh stood there with that pole-axed look on his face. "W-what?"

Rodney scowled. "Like I said, I only say such things once. Suck it up, enjoy it, and straighten out your love-life! This is worse than Simpson's soap operas!"

And he turned back to his work.

Kavanagh looked at the broad back, then staggered out of the lab like in a trance.

* * *

He didn't miss the sex.

Well, not really. Sex was sex. It meant two people, preferably in bed, and some nice action. Sex was something he could have, if he wanted to, with others. If they wanted him. And who would?

Kavanagh mindlessly stared out the window.

He could think of a few who might be interested, especially when it came to fucking Dr. Attitude Kavanagh. For some it was a power thing, to be the top. Kavanagh had never done it. He preferred bottoming. It gave him a lot more control – and a lot of pleasure.

No, he didn't miss the sex.

He missed… everything else. Allan dropping by the lab, cajoling him away from a project. Dinners or lunches. Sometimes breakfast. Working in comfortable silence in either one's quarters. A game of chess. Movie nights. Simply being together. He missed the warm expression in Allan's eyes, the green so much more intense when he watched him. He missed the hands touching him in a gentle caress. He missed… Allan.

Kavanagh dropped his head against the cool window pane, sighing deeply.

He knew he had hurt the other man, but Allan had had no right… no right at all!

But he was right, a part of him argued.

O'Rourke had triggered something and Kavanagh had simply bitten whatever hand had come too close. He had lashed out and used emotional weapons. He had used Allan's dead partner, a man who had been violently killed by the Goa'uld two years ago, and he had ripped open old wounds. He knew he had. His own were still hurting.

The doctor had left him alone ever since, hadn't attempted to talk to him, meet with him, have dinner or lunch. Kavanagh was deeply hurt, but part of him wouldn't have accepted any peace offerings. He knew that. So either Allan was done with him or he was waiting for Calvin to get his head together and try again.

So what was it?

According to McKay there was his chance, a chance at a relationship, at happiness, but what did McKay know about that? He scoffed softly. Yeah right… McKay, who was together with Sheppard, who seemed happy, who had someone, who was truly close. There was something between those two that Kavanagh had yet to understand. It was tight. It was so close, he doubted anyone, even some hot Ancient chick, could break it. McKay seemed so at ease, not afraid to lose the handsome Colonel to another man or a woman. There was a kind of balance McKay denied he had, but ever since Kavanagh had looked, really looked, he noticed such things.

He pushed away from the window and left his room, aimlessly walking through the City. It was early afternoon, on a Saturday. At least it would be Saturday on Earth. While they had longer days here, they tried to keep a routine. People had days off. Like he had the weekend to himself.

Kavanagh found himself heading toward Allan's quarters, hoping the man was there, and willing to talk to him. When he knocked, he unconsciously held his breath.

The door slid open and he stopped when he discovered the trauma specialist on the couch, legs up, reading. Music played in the background, some instrumental piece Calvin didn't recognize. There was a mug of tea on the table next to him, and every flat surface seemed to contain books, journals and prints. A laptop sat on the floor, the screen saver on.

"Oh. You're busy. I… sorry."

"Actually, I could need a break." Allan gave him a smile and sat up. "You want a tea, too?"

Kavanagh hesitated, eying the stack of journals. He recognized them. He had his own from his department. Most of the important stuff was sent through data bursts whenever the Gate was opened for a few seconds. Stargate travel to Earth was for the VIP stuff or emergencies. Normal supplies and orders were flown in with the Daedalus whenever she came by. Caldwell wasn't a freighter captain and he had a busy schedule. The Daedalus wasn't Atlantis' supply ship, but when she headed that way, there was always something that had been pre-ordered aboard.

"You are busy," he stated.

"Yes. Always. It never ends. Always new discoveries. Not so different from physics."

"Yeah. Well. Yes."

He felt even more awkward.

Allan poured a mug of tea and pushed some things aside to offer him a place to sit down, the mug on the cluttered table.

"I've been thinking," Calvin finally said.

Allan watched silently. He sat down across from Kavanagh, waiting.

"This… thing between us… I mean, I like this. I like us. Together. And you were right. About what you said. About me. I am a victim. I never wanted to feel like one. I never wanted to be one. This man… back when I was in college… he used me. He abused my trust. He… toyed with me. And I let him. Because I loved him. And he dumped me."

He knew he was blabbering and he refused to look at the other man.

"I talked with Heightmeyer. It helped." He laughed wryly. "I never thought it would. And I can deal with it. I have to deal with it. And I have to put it into my past..."

"There's a difference between dealing and coping," O'Rourke said quietly.

Kavanagh raised his eyes and met the compassionate gaze. "There is," he agreed. "And I want to learn how to cope. It will take time. Hell, it took ten years for me to actually start loving again."

"Calvin, I have issues, too. Not just a few." He folded his hands. "Some I… dealt with, but never coped. They might come up sooner or later… and I will need the help of my lover with them, too. Cal… I want to be there for you… because I know I need you to be there for me."

Kavanagh looked at him. Allan O'Rourke had left Earth, like all of them, to come to a whole new galaxy, to explore new worlds. But unlike most of the others he had known exactly what he left behind and what he would come face-to-face with in detail. He didn't have Kavanagh's or McKay's background of a brilliant genius, hired by the SGC. He was a medical doctor and he had volunteered after the Wraith had been discovered, after so much blood and pain and so much impending doom every day.

He had known what he had gotten into. And he had jumped in, with both feet. He had left what he loved… but then again… there had been nothing left. Sean Wallace was dead.

Calvin swallowed hard. Yes, Allan had issues, and they might come up one day. He wanted to be there for this man, because he loved him, he realized.

"I can't be Sean for you," he whispered.

"I don't want a replacement. Nothing can replace what I lost with Sean," Allan answered honestly. "But if you let me, Cal, if you want to be with me, I want to build something with you."

"Allan… I never… I never had a relationship," he blurted.

And that scared him. All the mistakes he could make, all the pain he could deal out without actually wanting to. The past weeks had shown what could happen.

O'Rourke smiled again. "How about step by step? We can figure it out as we go. I'm no expert either, and Sean and I… we fought, too. He was military, I was a medical doctor, a civilian. We had fights. As for us… you're a brilliant mind, Cal. I'm actually scared of this. I listen to you talk and it baffles me. I can't understand what you work on, how your mind works, what it is you're doing. I know you're saving our lives with it against Wraith and Genii and whoever else threatens us. I'm only a medical doctor. I'm no genius."

Kavanagh was dumbstruck. What?!

"I'm scared you'll tire of me, too," Allan went on. "That you want someone playing more in your league. The brainy league. I'm not brilliant, Cal. I'm normal."

"Allan…"

"You fell in love with a brilliant mind," Allan reminded him. "Rodney McKay."

"Not because he's a brilliant astrophysicist! Well, not solely. I mean, he's a genius, but…" Kavanagh blinked as realization hit him again. "Wait a moment! You're afraid that I would dump you?"

Shock was a mild term for what he felt.

It got him a wry smile. "Calvin, I'm only human, too. You are a wonderful man and others will find you attractive, too."

He leaned back, staring. O'Rourke thought he was… attractive and that he would… maybe… some day.. dump him for someone else? It had been Kavanagh's fear. He had thought that this man would only use him as a way to pass a few weeks or months. And now…

"I wouldn't dump you," he managed.

"Not even if Rodney McKay left his Colonel and declared his interest in you?"

"What?! No! No, I don't want him…"

"I'm afraid of living in McKay's shadow, Calvin," the doctor confessed.

"You won't! I always thought… I mean… It was Rodney who kicked my ass into talking to you!" he blurted. "He said to get this straightened out."

Allan smirked. "He did?"

Kavanagh shrugged. "Yeah."

"Calvin… when I decided to risk this step, to offer you more than friendship, I knew about McKay. You told me. We talked about it. And I risked it anyway."

Kavanagh nodded. "Why?" he asked softly.

"Because I thought… hoped… that I had a chance? I hadn't risked anything in a long time and I felt that I could risk this for you. It had a fifty-fifty chance."

The physicist was appalled at this equation. The odds were a lot worse than fifty-fifty. And even fifty-fifty were bad odds. Still, O'Rourke had tried. He had accepted that he might fail and lose.

"And here you are. For a reason," Allan added, smiling faintly.

There was an unspoken question in his words.

Kavanagh stared at his by now cold tea, as if seeking wisdom and knowledge. The ball was in his side of the playing field. He held the power to end this or to take it a step further. O'Rourke had to know that. And he was waiting patiently. Like he had been so patient with everything.

"Why me?" he asked.

"I don't know," was the honest answer. "I came aboard the Daedalus to forget, to leave Earth behind me. To start something new. I never planned on starting another relationship. Losing Sean… I couldn't go through that again. I had told myself that this was it: go to a new galaxy, find something to become my life's work. And then I met you. I liked you and I liked talking to you, attitude aside." Allan grinned a little. "And I wanted to be a friend… despite everything I heard and was told. I liked you enough to open up a part of me that I had thought had died with Sean."

Kavanagh fiddled with his mug. "I liked you, too. I was just afraid that, once in Atlantis, you'd listen to the gossip."

"I don't listen to gossip," Allan repeated what he had said a long time ago.

"Apparently you don't," was the dry reply. "Or we wouldn't be here."

"Probably not."

There was a brief moment of silence, then jade green eyes met pale blue ones.

"I'm afraid. I'm human, too. And sometimes I wake up with nightmares and need someone to hold me, too."

There was a plea in those green eyes that had Kavanagh feel rather dizzy.

"Nightmares?" he stammered, then bit his lower lip. "Oh. About…?"

"Yes. I'm a medical doctor. I know what happened to Sean. I still see it… without ever having seen it."

"Oh. Allan… I… I'm no hero. I don't know if what you expect is what I can be."

"You already are what I need, Calvin. I don't want a hero. Heroes are… there are no true heroes. I want you. As you are. With the attitude and the sharp tongue and the pony-tail and the condescending looks. I want you with me. You're not a replacement. Never was and never will be."

The ball was still his to play. He could stand up and leave, and it would probably cause more hurt and pain than anything else he had ever done before. Or he could surrender to his own emotions, his instinct that Allan wasn't lying through his teeth, and this wasn't some very elaborate and staged joke. No, it couldn't be a joke. Nothing like this could be.
"You're serious."

Allan was probably just a hair's breadth away from rolling his eyes at that statement.

"What do I have to do to convince you, Dr. Calvin Kavanagh? Kiss you senseless?"

Kavanagh felt himself start to smile. "It would be start."

Allan rose slowly and came around to him, his eyes never leaving Kavanagh's, and when their lips met it was the hottest, most loving and deepest kiss Calvin had ever been given by another man. He sank into the couch, pulling O'Rourke with him. When they parted, Allan's eyes were sparkling, and he was hovering above the physicist.

"Have you ever gone camping?" he asked, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Uhm… no…"

"You'd love it. I have my gear with me and I know some guys where I can get more stuff for a weekend on the mainland. Just the two of us. Alone."

Kavanagh felt floored. "Camping?" he echoed weakly.

"Camping. Alone. Only us. With all the time in the world."

Camping, echoed through his mind. He had never… and he didn't know… and wasn't it dangerous?

"Trust me, you'll enjoy it," Allan promised.

"I will?"

"Definitely."

"Uh…"

The smile widened. "Trust me," O'Rourke repeated. "And I'll pack some extra blankets for you."

"I'm not a child!" he protested.

"No, only the newbie," came the teasing reply.

Kavanagh grimaced. But somehow he didn't have the heart or the drive to protest more. The prospect of leaving the lab and everyone, even if it was only for a night or two, was nice. And to be with Allan, even when it was in the wilderness of the mainland… he was looking forward to it.

* * *

John lay on his stomach, arms flung out, one across the bed, one over his head and hanging down the edge of the mattress. He was still breathing a bit harder than was normal, his body quivering a little now and then. Rodney looked at his lover, one hand running playfully over the warm back, enjoying the soft sigh it got him. He felt very warm and cozy himself, the endorphine high not yet plummeting that badly. The hand slid over the firm buttocks and one finger strayed to the slick cleft, drawing a hitched breath from Sheppard.

//Rodney…//

He knew the other man wasn't up to anything and that he was pretty sore. The past few hours had been decidedly hot, sticky and filled with some pretty good sex. Rodney leaned over the muscular back and placed a kiss between the shoulder blades. His finger still played, but he didn't enter the enticing opening. He stroked gently over it.

//Oh gawd…// John whispered, squirming.

Hazel eyes cracked open and looked pleadingly at him. Rodney took pity and smiled, removing the finger.

//You can't be ready for more// Sheppard groaned.

//I'm not. But I like to touch you. I like the way you moan, John// Rodney said seductively.

The eyes slid closed again. //You're gonna kill me//

//Nope, not my goal in life//

Rodney snuggled down next to the limp form and Sheppard turned on one side, letting McKay spoon up behind him. He sighed in pleasure as he was held firmly, securely, and the Kiowata in him almost purred – even if the alien horse couldn't really purr. Rodney nuzzled one shoulder.

//So, Counselor Troy, how are you faring with Kavanagh?//

“Ugh, bad Star Trek references,” Rodney complained. “I’m not an empath. I just know where to kick good and hard.”

“Confess it, you like him.”

McKay grimaced. That had John smirk, which earned him a dark look.

“I can tolerate him better than before,” Rodney answered evasively.

John yawned.

//Go to sleep// the physicist suggested. His own body was by now announcing that a nap might be really good.

“You just don’t want to discuss Kavanagh.”

“I never wanted to discuss Kavanagh!”

“But you imagined him in the buff,” John pointed out.

Rodney groaned and shook his head. “Sleep. You and me. Now!”

“We just did.”

“Too much sex melts your brain, I see.”

“There’s no such thing as too much sex, Rodney,” was the sleepy reply.

Rodney felt him slip into sleep. He smiled fondly and snuggled into his mattress as well.

No, there wasn’t such a thing as too much sex, as he had learned in the last months. And sex with John Sheppard was… really, really good. Not just the physical part, but everything. The relationship was… it was just them. No doubts, no jealousies, no fights about looking at other people. The Bond was them, only them.

* * *

O'Rourke and Kavanagh met in the Jumper bay with one of the Marines as a pilot. There were frequent shuttles from the mainland and back to Atlantis. Sometimes for Athosian trade goods, sometimes for medical assistance, sometimes for visiting the mainland for vacations. Kavanagh ignored the quizzical look that was directed at him – he had learned to ignore such things pretty early – and smiled at O’Rourke.

“I cleared this with Dr. Weir. We have two days off,” Allan informed him.

“Two days?” That was… wow.

“Yep. Great, eh? We don’t have to be back until Monday night. Sergeant Miller here will pick us up then, but we have radios in case there’s an emergency and we’re needed. Let’s go.”

*

“Sergeant, can you touch down there?”

Allan indicated the area he was talking about on the screen.

‘There’ turned out to be a little secluded bay a few hours' walk away of the Athosian’s settlement. Standing in the warm sand of the beach Kavanagh watched the Jumper depart and a little voice inside him asked if he had made the right decision. Strong arms wrapped themselves around his middle, pulling him flush against a familiar hard body.

“Stop that,” Allan whispered in his ear before he nuzzled his neck. “We’re here, we’re alone and we want to enjoy the weekend. Be with me, Cal.”

Sighing softly, he leaned against the body holding him and clasped their hands together, watching the ocean, the beach, the tree line.

“Where are we going?”

“I'll show you.”

Calvin Kavanagh felt like a teenager again when Allan took his hand and pulled him along, toward the line of palm-like trees, bushes and cliffs – and there it was.

It was a wooden hut with a large porch-like structure in front of it, just beneath several large trees, overlooking the ocean. The porch had a ceiling and was propped up on strong wooden posts. Wooden stairs led from the beach to the porch.

“That’s… wow. Did you build that?”

Allan laughed. “No, I didn’t. I'm not that good with tools. I just found and restored it. Don’t know who built it, but I like it. My little hide-way."

Kavanagh frowned. "You've been here how long?"

O'Rourke smiled. "As long as you are, Cal. I just used my free time to explore. I like hiking. I found this when I followed an Athosian's recommendation to hike toward the beach."

"Ah."

"Let’s take a look inside.”

Inside was a square room with large windows and a bed-like platform. Allan opened the shutters letting in more sun and air.

“Here, there’s the mattress. How about you try to light the fire? There’s an open fireplace out there on the porch. I'll go and catch our dinner.”

“I’m not the little wife!” Kavanagh snapped, irritation clear.

That earned him playful kiss.

“No, you’re not, and I don’t picture you as such. But you’re the genius who figures out things and I’m the physician who’s used to handle little sharp objects. Therefore I fish and you… figure out where you wanna sleep and how to make fire. And I actually know how to fish.”

Allan winked at him and went off to the shore, leaving him to explore the hut or however this thing was called. Lighting the fire was a matter of barely a minute, since he knew exactly how to handle a lighter. The mattress Allan had spoken about was a soft velour air mattress which had a little motor to inflate it. He placed it on the platform, smiling when he noticed that it was far wider than the beds on Atlantis. Kavanagh dug for the blankets and plates, walking out on the porch to look for his lover. Allan had picked a remote and, yes, admit it, romantic place and had arranged time for them alone.

All of this was overwhelming and the pessimist and wary creature inside him warned him about it all.

For the first time he didn't listen.

* * *

Leaning against the wall Calvin took a sip from the wine Allan had brought – the man had thought about everything obviously – and watched the moon creep over the horizon. There weren’t any crickets here on the beach, but now and then a night bird could be heard in the distance and there was the ever present sound of the waves splashing against the shore. They did have that on Atlantis, too, but strangely it was a different sound.

Allan leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his lips and play with his ponytail, letting the curly waves glide through his finger. The firelight was doing interesting things to his skin and eyes, making them glitter like little green gems. Tooth-achingly romantic. He loved it.

Kavanagh liked to keep the hair together, even when he was in bed, mainly because it tended to go all over the place. He had naturally wavy hair and when he had let it grow out in a bout of rebellion, he had found he needed to tame it – or look like some unwashed street bum.

“Cal? May I?” Allan asked suddenly.

“What?”

“This.” He tugged at the black rubber band holding his hair back. “I’ve never seen you without this, not even in bed. I’d like to see you. May I?”

Looking into his lover’s sincere eyes Calvin reached behind himself and undid the band. The moment he shook his head the auburn locks cascaded around his face. There was an intake of breath from his lover as Allan carded his fingers through the long strands, pulling him close into a not at all shy kiss. He found himself stretched out on his back, blanketed by Allan’s body, coaxed into opening his mouth for a very clever tongue.

“I want to love you, Cal. Have you ever made love under the stars?”

All he could do was shake his head. “I’ve never made love at all. I fucked.”

Allan propped himself up on his elbows, and there was this intense expression in the green eyes that was much more than just the reflection of fire or moonlight.

“Let’s change that,” he muttered very softly and then the lips were back on his own, gently teasing, coaxing, patiently asking but never demanding.

Allan’s hands mapped his body as if he’d never seen it before, explored it like it was the most precious thing in two galaxies, paid attention to hot spots Calvin hadn’t even known he had, kissed and nipped every inch, made him arch and writhe and tremble, sob and cry and whimper and yes, in the end even beg. And this night Calvin Jason Kavanagh, brilliant scientist and owner of three PhD’s, discovered the true meaning of the terms ‘being seduced’ and ‘making love’.

* * *

Make-up sex was… good. Really, really good. Calvin rolled onto his side and suppressed a wince as his sore behind reminded him of just how good it had been. He didn't mind or care, though. He was too pleasantly relaxed and satisfied to give a damn. And looking at the tall, lean form of Allan O'Rourke, stretched out beside him, he couldn't but smile softly. O'Rourke smiled back, reaching up to pull him down into a kiss.

"You have a really wonderful smile," the doctor whispered against his lips. "And I love your eyes. You shouldn't hide behind the glasses."

Kavanagh drew back to gaze at his lover without becoming cross-eyed. He knew he didn't need his glasses all the time. It was just so much easier to read computer screens or fiddle with the tiny stuff, and to hide. Especially to hide.

Allan smiled warmly, tracing one cheek up to the cheekbone and to the eyes with tender fingers.

"Have you ever thought about contacts?"

He had. Sometimes. Way back in the past. He had discarded the idea. The glasses gave him an air of distance, coupled with knowledge, with intelligence, with age. To lose that…

"It's an image," O'Rourke said, apparently reading his eyes correctly.

"It's me."

"No. The glasses aren't you. You don't want to fit in and look geeky, Cal. Be yourself."

"I am myself."

"With me, yes. Out there you hide."

Kavanagh sighed softly and let himself be coaxed into an embrace. Allan's hands wandered over his back, drawing aimless patterns.

Camping wasn't really all that bad. He had to get used to the fact that there was no running water, no electricity, but the bay and a generator helped. The hut was large, the mattresses rather comfortable. Part of him reminded Calvin that Rodney McKay had roughed it for three months, under worse circumstances, without a luxury hut or mattresses. He had survived. So he would survive a weekend with his lover.

Allan let his fingers run through the hair, smiling to himself.

"I like this," he murmured.

"Huh?"

"The hair. It's nice. I like it so long."

"Uh-huh."

"No, really. It fits you."

O'Rourke proceeded to trail kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Calvin enjoyed the attention. It made him all lazy and tingly in one. Allan was a considerate lover, so totally centered and balanced it sometimes threw him off balance himself. No one could be that grounded, he mused, without growing roots. But the doctor had his own shadows, his own nightmares, and Kavanagh knew he would meet them someday.

"What do you want to do today?" Allan asked. "Swim? Hike? Laze around?" The last was said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Kavanagh smirked, but without sarcasm and malice. "Laze around?" he echoed. "Is that the medical term for fucking me senseless?"

"Hm, could be. Have to look it up. And I like being with you, Calvin. Inside you." O'Rourke gazed at him. "Have you ever topped?"

He tensed a little. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious. I'm not an exclusive top. I switched before. I like topping, don't get me wrong, but I don't want to force you into a role you might not be comfortable with."

Kavanagh rolled them around, amazed by the consideration Allan gave him. It wasn't something he was used to.

"You think too much about what I might like, Allan."

"I tend to. I want my partner to enjoy himself."

"Have you heard me complaining?"

"No…"

"I'm not. I like bottoming."

"Have you ever topped?"

He grimaced. Armbruster had been the dominating part of their relationship and he had never given a young Calvin any doubt about it.

"No."

Surprise flitted over the handsome features. "Never?"

"No. Armbruster was an exclusive and dominant top. Later… well, those were flings."

Turn around, spread your legs, go through the motions. Just a fuck, to feel this again, to be there again, in that blissful moment – until realization hit him afterwards, leaving him cold and lonely.

"Would you want to?"

He blinked, caught by surprise. "Allan…?"

"I told you I switched before. I like both ways. If you want…?"

The very idea gave him a strange feeling. He knew what to do when his lover penetrated him. He was in control of the speed, the rhythm, and he could bring the other man off by squeezing his internal muscles. While the top did mostly really top, it was the bottom who set the pace and called the shots. To suddenly change that… it frightened him a little.

"I'm happy as it is," he said vaguely.

Allan gave him a smile. "Okay. Just checking. But you know I'm open for something new, so if you ever think about it, tell me."

"Uh, sure."

The next kiss was almost apologetic, deepening into something more intense within a minute. Kavanagh drew back and chuckled.

"I think lazing around is a good description for the rest of the weekend."

"Unless I can convince you to take a swim with me. The water's really nice and there are no dangerous animals."

Fingers played over his chest, following the long lines of the still red scars of the Wraith feeding. Kavanagh tensed a little, but he didn't push Allan away like he had done before. He let his lover explore the healed flesh, skin that O'Rourke had sewn together, where he had removed the stitches, and Calvin closed his eyes. The nightmare of the Wraith was still there, but he had talked with Heightmeyer about it and it had helped. Many had had such encounters, terrifying and nightmarish, but aside from him no one had come back from a feeding. Abrams had died. Gaul had taken his life. So many more had vanished as victims.

"Cal," Allan murmured soothingly.

He caught the exploring fingers and pulled the other man close, kissing him feverishly.

Oh yes, he would be very sore, Kavanagh thought, smiling to himself. And he didn't care at all because after each time he didn't have the sensation of being lonely and cold any more.

* * *

He didn’t know what had woken him, but the enticing scent that tickled his nostrils might very well be a reason. Coffee. Real coffee. Allan sighed softly and rolled around only to find himself alone in bed. Well, duh, someone must have prepared the coffee and since it hadn’t been him…

Glancing out onto the porch he felt his breath catch. There, watching the first golden rays of sun flowing over the ocean, sat his lover, oblivious to being watched himself. One jeans clad leg dangling over the edge of the porch, resting his arm on the other bent knee, the cool morning breeze flapping the open shirt and playing with the still unfastened curls. Steaming coffee mug sitting beside him, Calvin looked as if the years stolen by the Wraith had been given back -- with interest. There was a slight beard shadow, but other than that he looked – young.

Relieved. Contemplative. Unguarded.

That very moment Allan O'Rourke fell in love all over again.

He searched in his backpack. He retrieved a small digital camera and activated it. It didn't take him more than five seconds to safe several images of his lover on the card.

* * *

They returned with the last shuttle from the mainland and Kavanagh wondered briefly what anyone thought about him spending a camping trip with their new trauma specialist. He pushed that thought aside. He had stopped caring what others thought about him. It was when he had been branded a traitor in the wake of the Goa'uld threat and the bomb in Atlantis. Weir had made it clear that she immediately put him to the top of her list of suspects and would have thrown him in the brig, too.

Still, here he was. Once again. Back in Atlantis.

And he had found happiness. Not with the man he had dreamed about, but someone completely different.
Kavanagh walked into the lab, lost in thought, heading for his desk. He would gather a few things, then head over to the test lab where he was running simulations for a project McKay had dumped into his lap a few days ago. It was as annoying as it was interesting.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Kavanagh blinked and found Rodney staring at him, then the blue eyes narrowed.

"Did someone steal your razor? Or is this the new and improved Kavanagh?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" the physicist demanded.

"The scruff. And you forgot your glasses."

Oh damn. He touched one unshaven cheek and glared at McKay, daring him to continue commenting. Well, he did. This was McKay after all.

"Must be a boyfriend thing then. Does O'Rourke prefer it rough?"

Good god, shot through Kavanagh's head. He was glad they were alone.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

McKay tilted his head, smirking. "Well, the scruff… debatable. The glasses… takes some getting used to. As long as you don't cross your equations or run into doors."

"I can see just fine!" Kavanagh snapped.

"Then why wear them in the first place?"

That had him speechless for a moment, then he growled something under his breath and shouldered past the other man, walking toward his desk.

"None of your business," Calvin muttered and grabbed a few things.

When he turned, Rodney was grinning. He let his eyes run down Kavanagh's frame. Calvin knew he hadn't dressed in his uniform. He was still in the jeans and a rather figure-hugging t-shirt he had worn when they had flown back this morning. There had been no time to change clothes. He had just thrown his things into his quarters and made for the lab.

"What?"

"O'Rourke becomes you," was all he said.

Something angry flared inside Kavanagh, something that yelled that this was none of McKay's business, but another part could only agree. Allan was good for him, no doubt about it. That weekend had been incredible.

"This is how I remember you," Rodney added, voice softer.

"W-what? You… you remember me?"

"Yes. Took a moment, but I do. We met before Atlantis. It was a long time ago. I met a young, bright, enthusiastic student with a pony-tail who picked my brain for a whole day, who wouldn't stop asking questions or debating with me." Rodney's smirked more now. "And who stared at my ass."

Kavanagh felt a furious blush creep up his cheeks. "That was ten years ago."

"Doesn't change that I thought back then that you were cute, in a geeky, lanky, teenage sort of way. The way I see you now, it's the grown-up version of the young man I met then."

Kavanagh felt rattled, shaken. "You thought I was cute?!"

Rodney shrugged. "Yeah. Back then. You were eye candy. Look, enjoy, but that was all. You were a student, Calvin. I never started anything with a student; ever. You weren't my type either. Too young. Today you're an annoying ass."

"McKay…"

"You got yours, I got mine. Let's just leave it at that."

"You just told me you thought I was cute, McKay!" Kavanagh snapped. "And you want to simply leave it at that?"

"Yep. And looking at you now, you're back. O'Rourke gives you that, hm?"

He looked away.

"Hey, it's not bad. I think it's good actually."

"You changed, too," Calvin finally said almost defensively.

Rodney frowned. "What?"

"Not just because of Sheppard, but before already. And after you came back from M7B-377 it was even more so." He smiled a little. "Good changes."

"Uhm, well, yes. Maybe. This isn't about me."

"It is. At least for me. You convinced me to stay and I have to thank you for all of this." Kavanagh gave the other man an open smile. "I think Atlantis was the better of my two choices. At least now I can call two people here friends."

"I hope O'Rourke's more than that," McKay remarked.

"He is. Thanks."

Kavanagh left after that, not waiting for a reply. He was happy here. He liked being back in Atlantis. Whatever happened now.

* * *

//What the heck are you doing, flirting with Kavanagh?"

The voice in his head was anything but calm and controlled. It was actually filled with outrage and anger, which surprised Rodney.

//Flirting? What are you talking about?//

//You're flirting, making him compliments, making him blush, for god's sake!// John snarled.

//That's not flirting!// Rodney snapped in annoyance.

//Then what is it?//

//I, well, yes, I'm just… He's not my type!//

//You just told him you thought he was cute!//

//So?//

//That's making compliments just before you want his ass!//

//John, you're being unreasonably jealous//

//I'm not!//

//This is Kavanagh we're talking about// McKay said wryly, reminding himself that this wasn’t real jealousy. Sheppard knew he wasn’t straying. This was just… John. John reminding him that Kavanagh had been interested. Had been – past tense.

//Yes, I know! The man who lusted after you!//

//Right! Lusted. Past tense. Translation: not any more!//

//You're not helping that past tense by making him compliments//

Rodney rolled his eyes. //Oh grow up! He has his doctor, I've got my Colonel//

Sheppard was silent for a moment. //Do I know that Colonel?// he finally asked suspiciously.

//Aw, Sheppard, really! Brain like a sieve. I wonder how you could ever make it through the MENSA test. You met him before. Tall, dark and handsome, messy hair, got compensation issues because he likes to brandish his big gun, has a kink or two that have to do with bestiality…//

//What?!//

Rodney smirked more. //John, I love you. Only you. Even if there wasn't a you, I wouldn't fall for Kavanagh. He was a cute kid, a very eager study puppy, and he had the brain to become something. Armbruster hurt him a lot and he's just now getting back to who he was back then, ten years ago. I wouldn't dump you for anyone, and looking at Calvin, I doubt he would leave O'Rourke//

//Even if he could have you?// Sheppard asked quietly.

//Even then. Remember what Standish said. This is it. Exclusive. Only us. I'm not jealous of the women swooning around you, so stop being such a child about Kavanagh//

//You don't have to be jealous// Sheppard murmured.

//I know. Neither do you//

Silence reigned the link and Rodney briefly checked on where Sheppard was, trying to pick up fragments of a location. He found his lover was in the exercise room, alone. He got a shiver of the Kiowata, the doubt that had momentarily raised its ugly head, and he sighed softly. It was one way to really deliver a blow, to hurt John.

//We're bonded// he sent. //It means more than a vow and a ring. Forget the ring. Don't want one. Those things tend to get lost in drains or stuck in delicate circuitry when you least expect it. Anyway… the bond is special. It's only you and me…//

John leaned in and Rodney gave him a virtual hug.

//Sorry//

//Hey, I'm touched you think I'd drop the most gorgeous and handsome man on the whole of Atlantis, the man women drool after, to go for Kavanagh//

Sheppard's presence rippled with the compliment and Rodney smiled.

//Tonight?// his lover asked, hope in his mind-voice.

McKay let his eyes sweep over the work he had to do, then considered the conversation of the past minutes. He didn't really have to think long.

//Tonight// he promised. //Barring any catastrophes//

John acknowledged, then they both carefully shielded their more active presence from the other to continue their projects or work.

* * *

It was later that same day, actually close to midnight after a successful test of the Ancient generators, that Rodney looked at his lover, frowning.

"You really think I'd dump you? For Kavanagh of all people?" he asked out of the blue.

They lay together in John's quarters, watching the third season of Friends. Cadman had given it to John after a lot of wheedling and a hefty fee of powerbars, chocolate and the promise to stop looking at her with such puppy eyes.

Sheppard only shrugged.

"I wouldn't, John," Rodney told him firmly.

"Because of the bond."

That had him stop for a moment, then anger bubbled up and he sat abruptly, dislodging the other man. McKay looked down at his rather startled lover.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Colonel? You think I'm only here because of some freaky Ancient machine and my love of animals?"

"Rodney…"

"I'm not!" he continued, ignoring the attempt to interrupt him. "I found you quite nice on the eyes before that. I wouldn't have minded you and me together, but I knew this wouldn't happen because… because of many things! I didn't even know if you swung that way!" Rodney made an abrupt gesture, getting back on the topic. "Anyway, I'm not drooling after other men! Nor women! I'm drooling after you and only you, bond or no bond!"

Sheppard placed a finger on his lips, stilling the runaway mouth. He smiled almost shyly.

"Okay, I get it. I was just… kinda worried, you know."

"Because of Kavanagh?!"

The smile turned sheepish. "Kinda. He… he changed and I know he was after your ass before."

"Good god, grant me the patience I need!" Rodney exclaimed. "I didn't go through three months of personal, unhygienic and mental hell, not to mention the weeks after that when you decided it was all just a bad dream and wanted to push it away, only to run after the next best available ass I can get my hands on!"

"Okay."

"Okay?" Rodney gave the other man a suspicious look.

"Yeah." John smiled.

The suspicion grew. "That was easy."

"Told you I'm easy."

"It was a lie back then and it's a lie now. You're high maintenance," Rodney groused, but he lay back down and Sheppard happily made himself comfortable next to his lover.

"But you love me."

"God knows why, too," was the muttered reply.

//I love you, too// John sent.

//Are we done contemplating my theoretical infidelity plans with obnoxious pricks I detest?//

//You like him//

Rodney grumbled. //Okay, so it's obnoxious pricks I'm starting to like//

//And you think I'm obnoxious, too//

//You're annoying. Like right now// Blue eyes flashed a warning.

John grinned widely and kissed him. Rodney had no chance to stay angry. He just kissed back, softly, languidly, stroking a hand over his sensual lover's flank.

* * *

Normalcy was… nice. It had taken long enough in Rodney's opinion. It had taken weeks after the Wraith attack that had cost Kavanagh five years. Weeks after his former arch rival had finally decided to turn his life around. Weeks after Calvin Kavanagh had allowed himself to become involved with someone, with Dr. Allan O'Rourke.

Yes, normalcy was pretty nice.

Rodney had chosen to spend the day reading through the reports that were piling up in his inbox. He had delegated work to whoever hadn't been fast enough to escape him, and Zelenka would fill in for Questions That Couldn't Wait. McKay was in his own quarters because his office was overflowing with projects and people easily found him there. His quarters held an 'Off Limits' touch.

John had decided it was a good idea to flee from subordinates who pestered their superior officers with meaningless things, leaving that to Lorne, and had taken his own work load to Rodney's place. So the two men could be found sitting at the desk or on the bed, feet up, laptops and books around them, working silently. Sometimes the silence was interrupted by Rodney's groans and mutterings, but Sheppard had long since learned to ignore that in favor of his work. Should something be really important, Rodney would make himself known in another fashion. And it wasn't as if astrophysics and military command structure had much in common.

Aside from the chief scientist and the chief military officer being an item.

And mind linked.

"What the fuck?!" Rodney suddenly exclaimed.

The expletive had Sheppard look up from his laptop and frown a little. Rodney furiously scrolled through the data and his eyes widened more and more.

"I don't believe it!" the physicist muttered again and again. "I don't believe this! It's… hot damn!"

"Rodney?" John asked carefully.

McKay looked up, eyes filled with disbelief and something akin to awe.

“Kavanagh! This is… damn! He wrote a paper… And… I don't believe it!"

"Rodney, calm down."

"Calm down?!" Rodney's voice rose. "About this? Not likely, John. So not likely! This is about energy signatures and their probable effects on time and space by rotating gravity masses and event horizons!" he blurted. "And… whoa!”

“What?”

Sheppard's grasp of astrophysics was rather limited. Math was more his playing field.

“Black holes, John. Oscillating black holes, to be precise!”

“I repeat – what?”

Rodney sighed. “You know how a wormhole works? Event horizon and all?”

John nodded.

“Okay, it is theorized that a wormhole is established between two black holes and can’t be stabilized. That we already know is big BS, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. But the topic of black holes in itself is a whole different ballgame. Did you know that some of them are spinning?”

“Spinning? Like this toy for children? A spinning top?”

“Exactly. Or a gyroscope. Now, around a black hole you find a phenomenon that is called 'accretion'. Think of it like draining your bathtub. And then there is 'frame dragging'. Frame dragging becomes so extreme as you approach the event horizon of a rotating black hole that at a certain distance, the so called 'static limit', all bodies must orbit a rotating black hole. The effect intensifies until at the horizon itself, there's no place to go but into the hole.”

“Wow. So once you’ve neared a black hole…?”

“There will be a point of no return – the event horizon. The size of the event horizon is determined solely by the mass and spin of the black hole," Rodney gesticulated, imitating a spin. "Now imagine two black holes meeting each other. If they were to orbit around each other as each of it contains the frame dragging phenomenon a lot of energy in the form of gravity waves would be emitted.

If they were to near each other over time more and more energy will leak out of the system, until the two objects merge. For an outside observer it would appear that the smaller one was swallowed by the larger, but it really is a merger around their common center of mass.”

John nodded. He could follow that far. “So, they would merge and the event horizon would grow according to the new higher mass?”

“Exactly! The Schwartzschild radius… well, let’s not go there," Rodney made an abortive move with one hand. "But, imagine not only a spinning, but a wandering black hole. And its effect on a wormhole.”

“Like the Stargate?” Sheppard hazarded a guess.

“Like the Stargate.”

“It would… uhm…?“

“Merge, John.”

“But wouldn’t have the Gate to be active at that time?”

“Yes, it would. The effects of merging a wormhole with a black hole wouldn’t be predictable, it could either eradicate the Gate or increase its energy. But John, the most important thing is, he figured out what happened to the Chimera! There could very well have been a wandering black hole, influencing the wormhole they were using between Jumps by, well, dragging it toward it. And he theorized even more – since this effect ebbed and increased over time the black hole must oscillate around space like… like a comet. Which means…“

“Whatever is in its gravity radius…

“Will be swallowed sooner or later. Who knows how much it swallowed already? And if it is now in their galaxy, maybe its paths crossed this planet's once, way in the past. Around the time the Ancients managed to punch a hole into space and connected, ever so briefly, with the Chimera galaxy!"

The possibilities! They were endless. Rodney couldn't believe that he hadn't heard about this from Kavanagh before. All scientists had access to the data extracted from the Ancient database by Ezra Standish. Many were happily immersed in all kinds of ancient logs, other were working on the data stream of the probe from the Chimera galaxy. Rodney had had too much to do on his own to spend much time with that mountain of new things, but he had his people for it.

"There’s even more,“ he now added.

“More?” John asked, feeling his head spin a little. Sure, he had passed the MENSA-test and knew his IQ was far higher than 130, but still…

“There were theories – very far fetched I may add – about using a black hole as a source of energy, which with human technology is simply impossible. The most difficult thing in those theories, apart from the energy needed to contain a black hole, was to find one. Now, if there are such things as wandering black holes, their path can be determined. And predicted. And with Ancient technology…“

“…like the Gates…” John muttered, feeling understanding dawn.

“John, Kavanagh wrote about the possibilities of taming a black hole with Gate technology."

John sat down hard, letting the words roll in his mind all over again. “Taming a black hole? Whatever for?”

“Almost infinite energy resources, Gate ranges we couldn’t even imagine, reaching more distant galaxies… the results are unbelievable right now. This paper,” he pointed toward the laptop, “is gold. If it works, that is.”

John watched Rodney, his blue eyes wide and glittering, his hands flying all over the place while he paced with barely concealed excitement.

"And he gave it to you," he said softly.

"And he gave... wait, you're right. He gave it to me. Why did he give it to me?" Rodney blinked in honest confusion.

"Maybe because he trusts you?"

This had Rodney become very still as he looked at John with wide eyes. “You think?”

“Yes. You've become friends, haven’t you?”

“Well, in a way. He doesn’t always complain anymore, and he’s become more approachable.”

“He’s settled, Rodney. The fact that he gave you this paper without even jabbering about it to everybody who wants to know and everybody who doesn’t, what does that tell you?”

“He… trusts me?”

John nodded. And watched Rodney, watched several emotions that ran over the expressive face.

“He trusts me? Ha! I have to talk to him. I bet he hasn’t even run more than one simulation. And that equation on page twenty is good and nice, but the conclusions are …”

John grinned as the rest of the sentence faded with his lover storming out of the room, almost pitying Kavanagh.

Oh well. He had it coming.

* * *

“Kavanagh!”

Everybody in the mess hall started as McKay stormed into the room, slamming a laptop onto the table in front of a very shocked Calvin Kavanagh. There were some grins and whispers but they were all watching the impending doom.

“Wandering black holes?!”

Kavanagh blinked, leaning back a little.

“Yes?” he said defensively.

“Are you totally nuts?”

“No, I’m not,” he snapped angrily, ”this is… “

“… utterly brilliant, and if it weren’t for your boyfriend and mine, I’d kiss you right now. Did you run simulations?”

“I … you what?”

“Simulations, Kavanagh. Imitation, replication, virtual creation of theoretical processes? No? Thought as much. Come on.”

Kavanagh blinked again and glanced after the retreating form of one Rodney McKay.

“I don’t have all day, Kavanagh!”

Calvin snorted and stormed after him.

“Of course I ran simulations, you moron. What kind of scientist do you think I am?”

“One who needs practice?”

“McKay…”

*

//Boyfriend, Rodney?” he heard the amused voice of his lover over the bond.

//Yeah well, what was I supposed to say? Lover?//

//How about – I don’t know – nothing?//

//Huh?//

//Rodney, you do realize you just outed us to the whole of Atlantis? And you outed Kavanagh, too?//

//I so didn't! Everyone knows already//

//Really?//

//Yes, really, Colonel//

//Us, too?//

//What planet do you live on?// Rodney muttered. //You think we're still a secret? We live in a closed society with people who've known you, and me, for years now!//

Sheppard was silent. Rodney finally turned his attention fully on his lover, frowning.

//You know about Peterson and Eads?//

//Uh, sure//

//And Wingate and Marrinan?//

//Yeah?//

//Who told you?//

John frowned. //No one. I just… well, heard?//

Rodney smiled triumphantly. //See? And they heard about us. Maybe not everyone, but many. Is that a problem?// he asked carefully.

//Yes. No. I don't know//

//Are you having homophobic tendencies or is this the Kiowata instinct?//

//You don't have a problem with people knowing?// Sheppard wanted to know.

//I don't have a problem with whatever people tend to think about me// Rodney shot back. //I'm used to it. Look at the geek// he quoted.

He suddenly stopped and Kavanagh nearly ran into him. There was a strange expression in the pale blue eyes and he was giving Rodney a narrow-eyed look.

"You go ahead," Rodney said out loud. "I need to straighten something out first."

"Uh, okay."

"Literally," McKay snarled and stalked off in search of his lover.

* * *

"I thought we hid it," Sheppard muttered.

"Uh-huh. Hidden it. I think there were rumors about us being a couple long before we actually became one."

"What?!"

Rodney shrugged. "Like I said, I don't care. I never listen to rumors. Well, most of them. Those were interesting. And if you think your Marines and pilots won't listen to you anymore, have you seen them act differently?"

Sheppard shrugged. "I thought it was a secret."

"It isn't. Deal with it. We were out long before we were actually together."

John groaned and let his head sink back. "This is so… so… weird."

"No more weird than anything else that happened here in the last two years. As for Kavanagh, you really – really! – think that anyone was in doubt about his tendencies after he and O'Rourke spent the weekend on the mainland? Miller has a big mouth. And O'Rourke made it clear to a few nurses that he isn't into women, so that rumor mill was quite active, too."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "And you hear all that, in your lab, which you never leave except for dire emergencies?"

Rodney smiled. "Yep. The Inside Man, that's me. I have my sources."

"Uh-huh."

"So, we're good? You okay?"

Sheppard nodded. "Takes some getting used to. Like many things. But I'm flexible."

Rodney smirked. "That you are."

John gave him a narrow-eyed look, but there was humor dancing in his eyes.

"Go. Kavanagh is probably wondering where you went off to."

Rodney drew him into a small, reassuring kiss. "You okay?" he wanted to know again.

"I'm fine."

Blue eyes narrowed, but John just kissed him again.

"Really fine."

Rodney left, the link still open enough to keep an eye on things. Sheppard returned to his own work and McKay walked into the lab where Kavanagh was waiting. The other man had his arms crossed in front of his chest, a smirk on his lips, and the pale blue eyes sparked with taunting humor.

"Had to get your rocks off?" he asked.

Rodney gave him a glare for good measure and old times' sake. "Don't draw conclusions concerning me just because your doctor didn't let you have any last night," he snapped.

Kavanagh flushed, but not with embarrassment, more with anger. Rodney ignored him and set up his laptop.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" he demanded, changing the topic away from sexual relationships. Apparently teasing Kavanagh about his hit a few sore spots.

"It was my project," the physicist defended himself.

"And I'm the lead scientist here. I need to know."

"You do now!"

Rodney studied him, then nodded briefly. "Okay, now I know. Now I also want to know about simulations and what kind you ran. As fascinating as this reads, there are hiccups."

Another flush, this time the touchy outrage of being criticized about his work. Rodney knew Kavanagh was brilliant and unlike some of the staff here he would test something thoroughly, but this was groundbreaking, involving data they had yet to really understand and analyze. One paper wasn't enough and it would probably take them some more time to get to the point where they could really draw conclusions.

"I didn't mess up!" Kavanagh snapped.

"I didn't say you did. I said there are a few things that jumped out at me while I was reading this and I want you to a) explain it and b) prove it in a model." Rodney gave him an expectant look.
Kavanagh took two mental steps back, then nodded, face relaxing a little more.

"Calvin," Rodney added softly, startling him. "I'm not here to tear your work apart. This is incredible stuff. Ground-breaking and revolutionary." He regarded the other man evenly. "I'm here to help."

Kavanagh's face underwent several expressions, then stubbornness settled in. "I'm not a freshman, McKay! I don't need coddling!"

"Of course not. And I don't coddle. I'm here to help you."

Kavanagh was visibly gritting his teeth, then he finally relaxed. He briefly closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I've logged down my models and tests," he said, voice more even now. "I can show you."

McKay nodded, keeping a suspicious eye on him, but when both men slipped into research and test mode, he fully concentrated on Kavanagh's theories.
 
 

In the back of his mind he felt John presence, humming, pulsing, simply there. Rodney had to smile at that, at everything he had gained through this unusual connection between lovers and friends. It had its advantages, just like it had its disadvantage, and not everything would be flowers and hearts and pink clouds.

But it was good.

He loved it. He needed it. Like he needed John.

The warm pulse intensified for a moment and it felt like someone hugging him.

//Love you, too// he sent.

It was echoed in every way the bond could.
 
 

In his own office, Sheppard smiled fondly, then forcefully turned back to personnel evaluations.