Suki Blue Fiction

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“My people have known them for many generations,” Teyla explained. “They are very peaceful.”

Surely he wasn’t the only one thinking it? “Forgive me if I’m not entirely comforted by that,” Rodney said. He was careful to keep his tone neutral. Which in Rodney McKay terms meant that he was careful to snap only as much as was necessary rather than going for a full head removal.

John shrugged slowly and awkwardly. “Well, there was the whole Genii thing.”

Yeah, they were thinking it too. At least John was, and that was enough to mollify Rodney and prevent any further snark.

“That was different,” Teyla said. “I could hardly have been expected to know…”

Something on the Puddle Jumper’s main control panel beeped. A semi-transparent screen popped up and Rodney pointed. “Energy readings. Huh.”

“Huh?” John asked. “What’s huh mean?”

Rodney ignored him and watched the readings on the screen. “Huh.”

“Rodney?” John persisted. “Is that a good huh or a bad huh?”

Rodney concentrated for a moment longer. “Huh? Oh. Yes. If it were a bad huh, it wouldn’t be a huh; it would be a run for the hills. Or, uh, a fly for the hills. Or maybe stars would be more accurate.”

“Rodney,” John warned.

“It’s a good huh,” Rodney finally confirmed. “Numerous energy readings, small, admittedly, but at least there are a few scattered about, probably signalling villages or suchlike. Head for the centre there,” he said, pointing at the screen. “It’s most likely to be their central population.”

“A city?” Lieutenant Ford asked.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Rodney replied. “But let’s just say that I have high hopes that this civilisation has grasped the concept of drainage.” His nostrils twitched at the memory of the last planet and their ‘it’s good for the soil’ policy.

Teyla cast an irritated glance Rodney’s way. “These are good, clean people, Doctor McKay. As were the last. It is not their fault that the Wraith…”

“Okay, kiddies, okay,” John said. “Let’s keep all our toys in the stroller.”

“What?” Rodney shook his head. “Major, where do you get these sayings from? Actually, never mind. Land over there, would you?”

John looked incredulously over his shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

Rodney noticed that John still landed exactly where he wanted him to. Well, kind of. Maybe a mile or so to the left.

**

Major John Sheppard deliberately landed the ‘Jumper with a thud. He grinned even before Rodney opened his mouth and abruptly insulted his ability to park. John loved, no, adored winding Rodney up. Not too much, though. Every man had his limits and Rodney’s were the epitome of almost non-existent. But as long as John kept within certain parameters, he could wind Rodney up all day.

Like a clockwork mouse. Wind him up and watch him go.

And why did he do it? Because he loved the banter. He loved the snark. And he knew that Rodney did too. And the best part? That was the making up part that came when they were alone.

Rodney stomped past him and stepped out of the Puddle Jumper. “Oh, good. It’s hot enough to bake a turkey. That’ll make all the walking easier.”

John groaned and followed him out. “Don’t say turkey.”

Rodney winced and bent to check his thigh holster was done up correctly. “Ah. Sorry.” And he genuinely was. John could tell. John couldn’t tell anyone else how he could tell, but he could.

“I have a sudden craving for cranberry sauce and roast potatoes,” Ford said from in front.

This time, both John and Rodney groaned. “What I would give for a yam,” Rodney said, giving his stomach one short tap.

Teyla smiled and said, “Is that what you’re calling it these days?” as she passed them.

Rodney looked appalled and John silenced him the only way he knew how. With a discreet hand on his ass. “Actually, that isn’t what a yam is,” John said. He whipped his hand away and clutched his P-90 when Teyla turned around and said, “Oh?”

John spent the rest of the walk to the central village describing roast dinners and the contents thereof. Everyone was very hungry by the time they arrived.

**

“Zero Point Module,” Rodney explained. He drew a rough little sketch on his notepad and handed it to Tragan. He was pretty sure these people relied upon a ZPM to power their equipment. So far, Rodney had seen something that resembled an oversized washing machine, a generator that supplied disco lighting to the central area of the village and some little tiny gadgets that Rodney suspected were Tamagotchis.

Tragan said he wasn’t sure. He had no clue where their power came from, just that they had it, and thank goodness they did because how else would they keep their children quiet?

But he said he would look into it.

Tragan was this planet’s version of a Liaison Officer. He wasn’t in charge, but he represented those who were. The man was a little slow and had an annoying twitch in his left eye that distracted Rodney enough to make him miss his mouth twice while drinking his Welcoming Broth. Rodney was quite glad about that. The broth tasted like a camel’s hump: rough, lumpy and not entirely pleasant. Ford drained his own bowl dry and commented that it tasted like his grandma’s soup. That prompted Rodney to vocalise a perfectly valid assumption that Ford’s grandma was the idiot child of a backwards bumpkin.

After the fight that followed, the team were led out by Tragan into the village square where the Amejitharians treated them to a spectacular, non-stop mini-festival with dancers and ribbons and drums and big wooden plates crammed full of chicken feet and squidgy things in sacs that Rodney wouldn’t have touched even if he was dying of starvation.

Throughout the first hour of the welcoming, and somewhat noisy, celebrations, Rodney sat with Tragan and discussed the population’s situation regarding the Wraith. It soon became clear how different these people were compared to those Rodney had met on other worlds.

The Amejitharians were intelligent, cautious and, most importantly, practical. Rodney found himself warming to them, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. While these people worshipped the Ancients, they weren’t blinded by that worship. The only protection they had from the Wraith was themselves. They kept their technology to an absolute minimum and practiced a type of population control that was agreeable to everyone.

“I must say, you and your people are incredibly…enlightened,” Rodney said. He put his hand up to decline a bowl of cat’s paws and turned to face Tragan.

“Thank you, Dr McKay. Our people are great believers in taking responsibility. We know what attracts the Wraith and we do what we can to prevent them from returning. Our only regret is that if and when the Wraith pass us by, they will instead seek out another world and ravage it as they have done to us so many times. For that we are truly sorry.”

“Well, you can’t feel guilty for that…” Rodney started.

“No,” Tragan replied. “But I can curse the Wraith. Despicable demons!!!” And with that he spat on the ground, and those who had heard him did the same.

Rodney grimaced. “Just lovely,” he muttered to himself.

“If we could help another world to survive the Wraith, then we most certainly would.”

Rodney’s ears pricked up at that. So did John’s, and he came over to join the other two. “Would you consider helping us?” John asked.

“I will need to discuss it with the others but I believe that we can do more than consider it.”

Rodney and John grinned at each other.

**

“And what sort of help do you think they could provide?” Elizabeth Weir asked.

John shrugged. “Food, crops, a safe haven should we ever need it.”

“Coffee.” Rodney’s slightly sunburned face shone with childish delight. John couldn’t help smiling with him.

“They have these beans,” John explained.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Magic beans?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” Rodney said. “They make the finest blend you’ve ever tasted. Pure heaven, Elizabeth. He pushed a mug towards her and waited.

She took a sip and closed her eyes. “Oh, god. Give them anything they want.”

“Actually,” John said. “They don’t want anything.”

Her eyes popped open at that. “Say that again?”

John opened his mouth and Rodney’s voice came out instead. “He said they don’t want anything. At least they haven’t asked.”

“But I’m thinking maybe we could provide them with some basic items. Medical supplies, information, recipes,” John said.

“Recipes?” Elizabeth asked.

“Like, how to make bread and sandwiches because, damn, their entrees suck.”

“I’m afraid I must agree with the Major,” Teyla said. “Animal body parts really were not appetising.”

Rodney nodded in agreement, his face scrunching up in disgust. “The kids were sucking cat tails like lollipops and, wow, that sounds wrong in so many ways.”

Ford snickered and earned a glare from John. “Anyway,” John interjected before the conversation shifted around to second guessing what was in the white creamy desert they had been offered, “we don’t know yet what help they’ll actually offer. Tragan has to talk to the elders first.”

“And by Elders,” Rodney said, “he actually means Elders. Fully grown people.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Well, how about that. When will you return to the planet?”

“Tomorrow morning,” John answered.

Elizabeth closed her notepad and stood. “Then good luck for tomorrow.”

**

“My place or yours?”

Rodney really considered the question. “Logically, I would have to say mine, seeing as we’ve used yours the last two nights. Plus, I need my laptop…”

“You have your laptop,” John pointed out. “It’s under your arm as we speak.”

Rodney glanced down at it. “Ah, erm, the other laptop.”

“The one with all the porn?”

“No,” Rodney said pointedly. “I believe that’s the laptop you commandeered last month and never gave back.”

John grinned and ignored Rodney’s accusing glare. “Oh, yeah. So, there’s another one? Can we say obsessed?”

Rodney straightened himself as he walked and lifted his chin. “No, but you and Tom Welling can.”

“Hey, Clark Kent is hot,” John argued.

“Yes, for a Kansas yokel. But that doesn’t mean you have to talk about him every hour of every day.”

John smiled again. There was something about a jealous Rodney that was so very hot. He’d take him over Kal-El any day. “I’d love to see you in a plaid shirt. Tight jeans. Pitchfork.”

It amused John greatly to watch Rodney roll his eyes in disgust. “Really, Farm Boy Erotica?”

“Yes, really,” John answered. “I wouldn’t mind dressing up for you.”

Rodney’s step nearly faltered, John was pleased to note. “You’re just trying to wind me up,” Rodney said. “But if you absolutely insist on dressing up for me, perhaps you can do Spock. You already have the ears, after all.”

“And thank you for that, Rodney.”

“You’re welcome. And yours.”

John frowned and wondered what an earth Rodney was talking about. Rodney’s brain was a brain that changed subjects more quickly than a person could change flaming socks. “Yours what?”

“Your place.”

“I thought you wanted your laptop,” John pointed out, confused at how Rodney had come to his sudden decision.

“Well, I’m in a good mood and, all things considered, I think I deserve the evening off. And you have the laptop with the porn.”

“I think that’s a fair decision. Just one thing, though.”

Rodney shot him a worried expression. “What?”

“We’re walking the wrong way.”

John and Rodney abruptly stopped and turned the other way.

**

Rodney clutched his cloth sack full of beans. He was letting go under no circumstances. He watched John nodding at a farmer and wished they could get a move on. Coffee was calling – in a big way.

Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee.

Trade negotiations were going well. The kindly people of M-25 had agreed to provide space, supplies and labour for whatever crops Atlantis needed. It struck Rodney that these were people who could easily be taken advantage of. Still, he had more beans – coffee ones.

Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum…

“Hey, Rodney, look alive.” John motioned behind him with a tilt of his head.

“Ah, Tragan.” Rodney beamed at his new best friend and moved to meet him as Tragan walked from the wooded area around the crop field.

John shook hands with the farmer and moved to join them.

“My friends,” Tragan greeted. “I trust that everything is fine?”

Rodney lifted his beans. “Oh, yes, just wonderful.”

“And the arrangements for your foodstuffs?” Tragan asked with an indulgent smile.

“That’s wonderful too.” John elbowed Rodney as Tragan turned and headed back into the woods. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you. You’ve been very generous,” Rodney added.

“It gives us pleasure to aid others. The fight for survival against the Wraith is a great battle. The coming together of our people will ease that burden.”

“You know, you’d think more people would see it that way,” Rodney said with a semi-sarcastic chuckle that made John elbow him again.

“We completely agree,” John added. “And don’t forget there’s a lot we can do for you.”

Tragan waved John’s comment away. “In time, young man. There is no rush. However, there is something else I can do for you now.”

It was almost too good to be true and Rodney was careful not to think that too much lest he jinxed them all.

Tragan pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it to reveal the sketch of the ZPM that Rodney had drawn the day before. “This…power source you spoke of, I have seen its image.”

If Rodney had possessed bunny ears they would have stood to rigid attention. “You have? Really? Where?”

“An engraving, at the caves,” Tragan explained. “Legends say that a power source was kept hidden in case the Ancients ever needed it. I believe they hid it here, on this planet, in addition to whatever mystical force powers our own devices.”

Rodney and John exchanged a curious, subtly excited look that was also an eye-fuck. It was no different to any other look they ever shared.

“Follow me.”

**

There it was. A cave, complete with an Indiana Jones-style boulder blocking the entrance and a big engraving of what appeared to be a ZPM slap bang in the middle of said boulder. John hoped he wouldn’t have to move it.

“It looks the same, yes?” Tragan asked.

Rodney ran his fingers over the etching and nodded. “Identical.”

“You think there’s a ZPM inside?” John asked.

“No,” Rodney said, dropping his hand and giving John his best you’re-so-dumb look. “It’s probably on top of a fluffy white cloud fifteen miles from here.”

“I meant still in here. Maybe the cave has been…pillaged.”

“Hey, I’m meant to be the pessimist,” Rodney pointed out. “Did you pack any C-4?” he asked.

John eyed up the cave entrance warily. “I’m not sure an explosion would go down too well. Not sure it would hold up.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“No. The point is to get inside and find a ZPM, not bring down the entire place and sift through the rubble later.”

“Hm. Good point. Maybe we could set up a clever system of ropes and pulleys, or maybe if we can get enough men we could just push… Ah, although we wouldn’t want to crush anything that might be-”

“You could try crawling through,” Tragan suggested, pointing to a small hole at the bottom left of the entrance.

Rodney squatted down to look. “Ah, yes. There’s an idea.” When he stood again, he was noticeable paler. “What an incredibly small space. Has, erm, anyone ever got stuck? At all? Ever?”

Tragan shook his head. “No one has ever tried.”

“You haven’t been inside?” John asked. “Aren’t you even the tiniest bit curious?”

“This cave is the home of vermin!” Tragan spat. “Gangleberries!”

Rodney stepped back at the man’s sudden fury. “Well, I’m not sure there’s any need for that kind of language,” he said.

“No. They are named Gangleberries. They run rife through our villages, digging up our crops and smothering our children. Parasites!”

One of the parasites ran through John’s legs and dived through the hole in the cave. It was the cutest vermin he’d ever seen, and that included his Aunt Bessie’s rat. John inwardly sighed as he remembered her frozen roast potatoes. His Aunt’s, that is, not the rat’s.

Distinctly cat shaped, the Gangleberry had long powerful legs, giant sized paws, and a bushy tail. It had big bulgy eyes and tiny ears that stood up and curled over at the top.

It was pretty darn cute.

“That’s a Gangleberry?” Rodney asked. By his delighted, widened eyes and big smile, John was pretty sure that Rodney thought so too.

Tragan nodded. “Yes. We do not go near such creatures, unless it is to cull and serve them up on a platter.”

John swallowed and realised where he’d seen those paws before. And the tails. Euw.

“I will leave you now,” Tragan said. “Good luck. Return to me when you are finished and I will arrange a great feast for you and your team.”

They said their goodbyes. John was absolutely sure there would be no feasting.

**

John’s voice drifted from inside the cave. “Clear.”

“Right. Good.” Rodney wasn’t so sure it was. “Uh, shouldn’t Ford and Teyla be here?”

John had already radioed them to give their position and set up a meeting time. Ford and Teyla were at the village, liaising or possibly just slacking off, Rodney thought, while he and John were doing all the hard slog.

“No. Come on, Rodney. I’ll protect you from the vicious puddy tats.”

“Ha, ha, it is to laugh. Actually, I’m more worried about the enclosed space and possible suffocation. Have I mentioned my claustrophobia?”

“Many times. Now, get a move on. I’ll give you mouth to mouth if it gets too much.”

Rodney muttered a complaint under his breath, but moved to kneel down at the hole anyway. He was tempted to back his way in feet first. Somehow that seemed safer. But John had gone in head first so perhaps that was the best way to go.

“Head first and stay low,” John called from the other side.

“What if I get stuck?”

“Then I’ll unstick you. Look, just take it slow and feel your way-”

“But I’m bigger than you.” It was a good point.

“There’s plenty of room as long as you take it easy.”

Rodney thought about it. He wouldn’t get stuck. No way. It was just a fear thing. “Okay, I’m not going to get stuck. I’m not going to get stuck. I’m not going to get stuck.” He stuck his head and arms in the hole and found purchase with his hands. Using the cave wall for leverage, he pulled himself forward. “Uh, I’m stuck.”

There was a brief silence from the other side of the boulder. Finally, a curious voice spoke up. “Did you remember to take your pack off?”

Rodney slid back out and removed his pack. There was a chuckle from John’s side. “Shove it through in front of you.”

“Right.” Rodney was starting to sweat. And not in a good way. “Okay. Okay, okay. I’m coming through.” With the pack pushed ahead of him, Rodney climbed into the very dark hole.

“You okay?” John asked after a minute. “I’m not hearing a lot of shuffling.”

“I’m just weighing up my options. You know, shall I squeeze forward, back up a little or just freak the fuck out!”

“Language, Rodney. Take it easy.”

That wasn’t as simple as it sounded, not when panic was beginning to settle in. “Take it easy?! My elbow is stuck; I can only move my pack along with my head; and I seem to be missing a foot! Excuse me if I find if difficult to take it… Ah! Bright light!”

The light clicked off and Rodney felt a clammy hand take his.

“What are you, a Gizmo?” John asked as he reached over to unstick Rodney’s elbow and ease him forward.

“No, no, no! We’ll both get stuck!”

“No, we won’t. Trust me.”

Rodney’s hands were shaking now, but John’s felt strong and sturdy. They weren’t hands that felt like they would get stuck. Closing his eyes – because he couldn’t see a thing anyway – he tried to relax and let John guide him. “It’s not a Gizmo. It’s a Gremlin or, more accurately, a Mogwai. The main one was called Gizmo.”

“You’re absolutely right. I love that movie.”

“Really?” Rodney fought to keep his voice steady as his hips caught against the rocks. John, true to his word, unstuck him again. “I only watch it at Christmas.”

John laughed quietly. “Well, nothing says holiday cheer like Gremlins in a microwave.”

One more awkward manoeuvre and Rodney felt the cool breeze of the cave as he popped out at the other side. “Exactly. It’s a Christmas classic.”

The light on John’s P-90 clicked on again. He waved it about the cave while Rodney composed himself.

“Uh, thank you. For that.”

John turned and smiled. It was a genuine smile, warm and kind. “Welcome. You okay?”

Rodney smiled back and nodded. “Now that’s over with? I’m good to go.”

“Good. Which way?” John swung the light from left to right to indicate two passages.

Rodney pulled out the flashlight from his pack and scanned the walls with the beam. “No markings on the walls. No indicators. It’s fifty fifty. But left has always been my best side, so how about we go with that?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Major John Sheppard raised his P-90 into position and led the way.

The pitter-patter of paws followed them.

**

Left had been the wrong way. Probably.

Actually, the passage had led to a dead end of sorts, a sheer drop that seemed to be way deeper than the beams of both Rodney’s flashlight and John’s P-90 could reach. They chose to believe it was the wrong way and went right instead.

This passage led to a fork. Not an actual one, mind, but a section that split into two other passages. Rodney flipped his lucky loonie and they took the left passage. After a long and tedious trek, this also led to a sheer drop. Rodney cursed his nationality and then defended it when John claimed that a U.S dollar would have given the correct direction.

An hour later and they were still walking. It was damp, dark as hell and Rodney’s feet were beginning to ache. Or so he kept telling John. “So help me, I won’t be responsible for my actions if this turns out to be a wild goose chase.”

“As long as there aren’t any actual geese,” John said.

“Ah, yes, I forgot about your goose aversion.”

“They hate me. All my childhood vacation snaps were of me running for my life.”

“I had the same problem with cows,” Rodney said as they rounded a corner. “Still do. They just look at me and, I swear, all I can see in their eyes is utter contempt.”

“You ever get trampled?” John asked.

“Yes. You ever get goosed?” The grin on Rodney’s face was bright enough to light the whole passage.

“Hear that?” John cupped a hand around his ear. “That was the sound of my sides splitting.”

“A door.”

John looked puzzled. “Adore what?”

“No, oh simple one. A. Door.”

John looked to where Rodney was pointing and, sure enough, there was a door. Not a nice easy door made of wood with a lovely convenient handle, but a great big stone door set flush with the wall with absolutely no handle. On the front was another engraved image of a ZPM. “Oh, boy. Just hope this baby opens outwards. Or inwards, depending on which side you’re on.” John let go of the P-90 and put both palms flat against the door. “Help me with this.”

Rodney placed his flashlight on the ground and quickly moved to help.

“On my mark,” John said. “Push.”

They pushed and heaved and pushed some more. John could feel himself tiring. Beads of perspiration dribbled down his forehead and his cheeks reddened. He didn’t even like to think what this was doing to Rodney.

Finally, after John considered that maybe they were pushing against an impossible force, there was some give in the door; he felt it shift slightly against his hands and he grinned.

“This isn’t working,” Rodney puffed next to him.

“It will. Come on. Gimme everything you’ve got.”

“Oh, because I was really holding out on you before in my desperate attempt to not find a ZPM.”

“Shut up and push!” Every muscle in John’s body tensed and reacted, pushing against the seemingly irresistible force of the door. He watched with a fuzzy half-gaze as Rodney’s hands shifted to find a better position and together they pushed with all their might. “Come on, come on!!!”

Without warning, John emitted a manly cry and the door shunted with a heavy groan and the scrape of rock on rock.

“Is it wrong that I was completely turned on by that noise you just made?” Rodney asked, panting with exertion.

“Not at all.”

“Shall we?” Rodney asked, gulping, undressing John with his eyes and nodding towards the door all at once.

“We shall.” John lifted his P-90 and carefully slipped though the newly-made gap in the door.

As Rodney followed him through, he swung the beam from his flashlight behind him and observed a bright green pair of perfectly round eyes. They blinked and then they were gone. “Huh.”

**

Rodney’s mouth went dry. “There it is,” he meant to say.

“What?”

Realising that he’d only moved his lips and made no sound, Rodney tried again. “There it is,” he repeated. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Well, except for the first time he’d seen Atlantis. And the first time he’d seen John in the shower. Still, beautiful, beautiful ZPM.

This part of the cave was clearly the work of man. Carved into a huge perfect square, it was completely free from debris, loose stone and random trickles of water. And in the dead centre of the room, standing on a stone plinth, was the ZPM.

Displayed like an idol to be worshipped, Rodney was tempted to drop to his knees. But then again, Rodney was often tempted to do the same thing to John in the middle of a mission or a meeting. It didn’t mean he was actually going to do it. Usually.

“A room all of its own,” John said as he looked around at the room full of nothing-but-the-ZPM.

Rodney turned and watched the cat-like Gangleberry they’d seen outside dash through John’s legs. At least Rodney assumed it was the same Gangleberry, going by the shape of the stripe on its back, its full spread of tickly whiskers and its docile, slightly blank expression that reminded him a little of John.

The Gangleberry mewed and Rodney resisted a quick coo. Undeterred, the animal purred and wrapped itself around Rodney’s legs.

“Looks like you’ve got an admirer,” John said.

“So I see. That’s fine. Cats I can do. I love cats – and not for breakfast.”

“You’ve got a cat back home, right?”

Rodney nodded and bent down to pet his new friend. “Hopefully.”

“Miss him?”

“Terribly,” Rodney admitted with a pained sigh. “Anyway,” he said, standing back up. “I’ll grab the ZPM and then we can be on our way.”

John gestured with one arm. “Be my guest.”

As Rodney approached the pedestal, he felt an overwhelming pang of excitement. They’d found a ZPM. And it wasn’t depleted; he just knew it wasn’t; he just had this wonderful, electric feeling that it wasn’t. This beautiful orange cylinder was the answer to their prayers, the one thing they needed to stand any sort of chance against the Wraith, and maybe the one thing that could unlock all the secrets that slumbered within Atlantis.

“I think it’s a girl,” John said from behind him. “And I think she’s pining for you already, Rodney.” By the long, drawn out mewing, he wasn’t exaggerating.

Rodney glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Of course she is. Who wouldn’t miss the brilliant me?”

The mewing increased until the Gangleberry took matters into her own hands. She darted forward into Rodney’s path.

“Ah. Heh. My cat does this to me at home,” Rodney said, skirting around the fussing animal. “It’s the reason I never live anywhere with stairs. I prefer my neck in an unbroken state.” After some failed side stepping that, in the darkened conditions, resembled the tango, Rodney lifted his leg and stepped over the Gangleberry.

Although it was probably just his imagination, the ZPM felt warm against his fingertips. He gripped it and lifted it like a child. “I’m so happy to see you. Do you have any idea of how important you are?”

“Are you expecting it to answer?” John asked.

Rodney stared at the ZPM, his head tilting in consideration. “A little bit.” He pulled his pack from his back and unfastened the clasp. “You’re coming home with me.”

A deep rumble echoed from the passage behind them and Rodney looked up at John in alarm. “What was that?”

John shook his head. “No idea. But let’s not hang around to find out,” he said, waving Rodney in his direction. “Come on.”

Before Rodney could move or even so much as nod in agreement, the ground beneath him shook mercilessly. He dropped the pack and made a grab for the plinth, cursing as it began to crumble.

“Rodney!”

He barely heard the shout above the din around him and could only just distinguish that John had said his name. The chamber lurched and Rodney scrambled to hold on to the ZPM as he was flung back against the remains of the disintegrating plinth. “John!”

“Rodney!”

“John!”

“Rodney!”

Rodney was way past having enough. “Stop shouting my name and help me!! I think I’ve cracked a vertebra.”

“I can’t get to you!” A mighty cracking filled the room with noise and Rodney’s heart with doom. He was sure he’d heard the same sound a moment ago but it hadn’t quite registered as he’d been slammed backwards into solid rock.

The sound of splitting rock came again and suddenly Rodney felt quite comfortable. It was then that he realised he was falling. He flailed with the arm not attached to the ZPM and by some wonderful miracle he managed to latch onto a jagged piece of rock. It dug deep into his hand but Rodney held on and found purchase with his feet on a tiny ledge.

Rodney forced himself to open his eyes. He glanced around and was most displeased to find himself hanging over a bottomless – probably – pit. “Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

As the rumbling slowed, John’s face appeared above him. “Jesus Christ.” He leaned over the side and extended his arm. “Grab my hand.”

The realisation slowly came to Rodney that he was still in possession of something very important. “Oh my god, I’ve still got the ZPM.”

“Fuck the ZPM. Just drop it and grab my hand.”

“Drop it?! I can’t do that! I can’t just drop what is probably a fully functioning ZPM!”

“Damn it, Rodney, just drop it and take my hand!”

Rodney hesitated. “What if I just throw it up?”

“And what if that ledge you’re standing on completely crumbles and you plunge to your death?!”

Rodney hesitated again. “I think I could do it without overbalancing.”

“McKay!”

Whoops, now he was in trouble.

Everything lurched again and the air filled with a deafening rumble. The ledge beneath him began to crumble and the ZPM slipped from Rodney’s fingers. There was no way to save it so Rodney just clung tighter to the wall of the chasm and tried to forget that it had ever brushed his skin and graced his eyes.

The rumbling slowed, but Rodney didn’t dare move. He had managed to wedge one foot into a tiny hole and was barely holding on by his fingertips. Oh god, he was going to die. He closed his eyes and hoped that when he fell it would head first and hard. Gone in an instant.

“Rodney.” John’s voice was closer this time and Rodney opened his eyes and looked up. There, within reach, was John’s hand, just waiting for him to reach up and take. Yeah, he could do that. Definitely.

“Get a move on, Rodney,” John urged. It was said almost casually, in that slow and easy tone that only John Sheppard could manage, but Rodney could still hear the fear in it.

He could – no, would – reach up and take. He could do that. John was going to save him. He didn’t even have the ZPM to worry about. That was long gone, dropped deep into the abyss below. Rodney looked down to check that. Maybe he was hallucinating and the ground was just two feet below him.

Wow, he sure would feel like an ass if that were the case.

“Wait!” Rodney shouted. “My pack! Shit, what…?”

Clinging precariously above him, John went from racked with terror to completely exasperated. “Leave the damn thing!”

“No! I can get it!”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It does! I can get it.”

“Fucking hell! Rodney!! Are you gonna make me drag you?” When there was no response, John began climbing further down.

“I can get it, I can get it, I can get it!” With a snap, the part of the wall he was attached to broke away.

Rodney, again, got that sensation of having nothing holding him up. He observed briefly that falling down precipices was a little like being in a Wile E. Coyote cartoon, pausing midair for a reaction before he plunged to the ground. Huh. It made sense. They were both super geniuses, after all.

It struck Rodney that his last living thought was a really stupid one, so instead he thought about fundamental particles. It was pretty basic, first-year-at-college stuff but, hey, he was on a tight schedule. Death was imminent.

But he didn’t fall.

John didn’t let him.

**

John fell back onto the ground, pulling Rodney on top of him. “Are you crazy?!” he shouted, even as he rolled them and got to his feet, dragging Rodney with him. “Come on. This whole place could come down.”

Rodney nodded and shifted his pack from his hand to his shoulder.

“You should have left that damn thing.” John glared at the pack and silently promised to shred it later, once they were outside the cave.

Rodney opened his mouth and closed it again. The room shook and large chunks of debris fell from above.

“I am so gonna kick your ass when we get out of here,” John stated, just for the record, as he grabbed Rodney’s arm and dragged him out of the chamber at a dead run. The deep rumbling continued as they made their way through the passageways. No more cracks had opened up yet, but John wasn’t waiting around to find out if they would.

“Oh god, what if the hole is blocked?” Rodney asked as they ran.

John hadn’t thought of that. He touched his finger to his ear and spoke as they ran. “Ford? Teyla?”

There was no answer.

“Anyone there?” John tried again. “It’s Sheppard. Rodney and I are in some pretty serious trouble down here.”

The radio crackled in his ear and Teyla’s voice came through in short, broken spurts. “…Major…outside…are…alright?”

“You’re breaking up, Teyla. Teyla?”

“What, what?” Rodney asked. “What’s going on?”

“Radio’s having trouble getting through all this rock. Shit.” More debris fell and John pulled them both out of the way and against the wall. He looked up and paled. “Oh fuck. This is all gonna come down.”

Rodney looked up at the cracking ceiling. He blinked and coughed as plumes of dust reached his eyes and caught in his throat.

“Rodney?” John said. “We need to go and we need to go now. And if you so much as hesitate, I swear to god I’ll-”

Rodney took off at a pace any Olympic runner would be proud of. He tugged a startled John behind him. “Less talk. More fleeing.”

“Oh, now he decides to drop the death wish.”

“Seriously, have you ever known me to have anything resembling a death wish?” Rodney asked as they ran.

“Until you gambled your life for a ZPM and a pack? No.” John had caught up now and together he and Rodney pounded down the passage, desperately trying to outrun the collapsing ceiling.

“Hey,” Rodney panted, “you know as well as I do what that ZPM would have meant.”

“Yeah, yeah, Wraith, shield, blah blah blah. It wasn’t worth your fucking life, Rodney. And the pack? What the hell were you-?” A chunk of rock fell from above and John pushed Rodney down and against the wall. At the sound of the crash beside them and the resulting cloud of dust, he pulled them both up and continued down the passage.

“I wasn’t… Wait… There!” Rodney pointed to the end of the shaft and the small beam of light that shone though the bottom of it.

“Go first.”

“But-”

“Go!”

While Rodney crouched and carefully pushed his beloved pack ahead of him, John tried the radio again. “Teyla? Ford?”

Teyla’s voice rang though loud and clear. “Major Sheppard. Are you and Doctor McKay alright?”

“Alright is probably an exaggeration, but we’re doing okay-ish. What’s your position?”

“Lieutenant Ford and I are right outside the entrance to the cave.”

“Well, what do you know, Rodney and I are right inside the entrance to the cave. In fact, Rodney should be popping out your end any second. Give him a hand.”

“Yes, Major.”

John crawled through the gap and soon came into contact with Rodney’s feet. The hole was a tight squeeze and, honestly, he could feel himself beginning to panic at the tightness of the fit plus the time issue. He could understand why Rodney was breathing so rapidly and so heavily.

The shaking around him slowly subsided and stopped completely just as Rodney’s feet disappeared and the tiny shaft filled with light. Ford’s hand reached in and John gratefully grabbed it and allowed Ford to drag him out. “You okay, sir?” Ford asked.

“Peachy.” John smiled sarcastically. He glanced at Rodney and any anger he felt at Rodney so carelessly risking his life melted away.

Rodney was covered from head to toe in red and brown dust. His face and hands were bloody and his clothes were torn. John suspected that he himself looked no better.

He wanted to kiss Rodney. He wanted to hold him and tell him he was a stupid lump but he loved him anyway.

“You’re an idiot,” John said instead.

**

The trip back to Atlantis was a quiet one. Not that Rodney expected anyone to be dancing around and singing The Sound of Music after what could have been, and nearly was, a deadly cave-in.

His head hurt where he’d bashed it multiple times and his hands were red raw and still oozing blood. He stared down at his open palms and worried about infection. He also worried about something else, something that perturbed him very much.

He needed to talk to John.

The Puddle Jumper sloshed through the Stargate and, through the window and over John’s shoulder, Rodney caught sight of Carson and his team waiting.

Okay, he really needed to talk to John.

The rear hatch opened and Rodney quickly jumped up and grabbed his pack, earning himself a curious, quizzical and slightly pissed look from John. Rodney gave him a pleading look and together they waited for Teyla and Ford to leave the ‘Jumper.

“I’m starting to think you love that pack more than me.”

Rodney brushed off the comment with a shake of his head. “It’s not the pack. Look, there is a very real possibility that I may have done something stupid.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Today?”

“Yes, today,” Rodney snapped. “Look, I know I upset you and I will admit that I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m also aware that you saved my life and I, unwittingly, made that job a lot harder.”

“Job?” John repeated. He scratched at his head with one hand and dropped it limply to his side. “Is that what think it was?”

“No, no, of course not. Okay, this isn’t coming out right. I admit that I screwed up with the ZPM. I should have just dropped it. I mean, I’m crucial to this mission and to endanger myself like-”

“You’re crucial to me, Rodney. That’s the point.”

Rodney dropped his gaze to the floor before forcing himself to meet John’s intense expression of love and frustration combined. “Oh. Well, uh…that’ll be the, uh, love thing again.”

“Yes. Exactly. The love thing.”

Rodney heard footsteps behind him, but John raised his hand for them to stay back.

“Anyway,” Rodney said, “back to the part where I did something really stupid.”

“The ZPM wasn’t the stupid part?”

“Okay, back to the part where I did something even more stupid than the ZPM thing.”

“You mean the pack thing where you made me climb down and haul your sorry ass back up?”

“Uh, yes, that thing.” Rodney turned around and picked up his now famous bag. “It wasn’t the pack itself. It’s what was in the pack. I looked down and I saw it and…god, I can hardly say this.”

John looked at him suspiciously. “Go on,” he said with extreme caution.

With unsteady hands, Rodney tilted the pack for John to see. “She must have climbed in for safety.”

Inside the pack, staring up at them both, was the large fuzzy face of the Gangleberry.
 

**