Fic SGA: Checkmate: The Road Home pt 4: Taking the Plunge
Title: The Road Home, part 4: Taking the Plunge
Series:Checkmate ‘Verse
Author: Beadattitude
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG
Beta: sheafrotherdon, who whittled me down when I ran too wordy, and who has my deepest thanks.
Warnings: Animal transformation, angst, schmoop, romance
Author's Notes: One more chapter to go! Probably by the end of the week. I'm pretty pooped.
Summary: Rivers, rocks and Rodney. Oh, and John's human again.
Teaser: “It has every opportunity of disaster, but somehow, John Sheppard, I think you may be a man accustomed to risk.”
John turned over and sat up, looking alert and interested.
Gata’nah nodded. “Good boy.”
_._~*~_.__._~*~_.__._~*~_._
“Come on, McKay,” Ronon said, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed, “taking a walk.”
“What?” Rodney spluttered, “I am walking!” He gestured to the well-paced dirt around him, “right here, in fact.”
“I believe what Ronon is trying to say is that it would be more restful for our hosts if you walked elsewhere for a while, Rodney,” Teyla said gently.
Rodney looked at the group of women assembled near the Spirit House as if for the first time. One of the village maidens who had happily poured kafa and flashed her cleavage at him just this morning scowled and beat the dust from her skirts. Teyla raised her eyebrows significantly and gazed at her own dust-covered shins and those of the women near her. Apparently he’d been pacing a little enthusiastically.
He looked at Ronon, who tilted his head in a “hurry up” gesture.
“But -” Rodney gestured helplessly to the Spirit House.
“Not going far.”
“But -”
“You will miss nothing,” Teyla said soothingly. “I promise you.”
“But -”
“McKay. Now,” Ronon called in a voice that promised blood and pain and lots of unpleasant things.
“But -” he tried one last time, in a very small voice. He had the irrational wish to hide behind Teyla.
“Rodney McKay,” a village matron - the shaman’s wife - said in a ringing voice, “despite your honorable position, I warn you; if you do not go now, we will simply talk about the breadth of your shoulders and the firmness of your rump with you standing before us. It is a very fine rump.”
There were general murmurs of assent. Rodney felt his face flame.
“If we are lucky,” Shanara added, throwing her silver braid over her shoulder, “perhaps you shall strip down for us so that we may be more accurate.” She gave him the most overt once-over he’d ever received in his life.
Rodney, having traumatic flashbacks about teenage girls, found himself utterly unable to reply.
“Modest as well as handsome!” Shanara exclaimed, pleased. She sauntered forward and clapped Rodney on the shoulder in a predatory way. “Tell me, Rodney McKay, do they cut the foreskins of males on your world when they are infants, when they come of age or when they marry?”
Rodney forced himself not to shriek with horror and cover himself. Teyla rose, hopefully to come to his rescue, but he took a deep breath and found his voice.
“I’ll have you know I’m one of the most brilliant scientists you’ll ever have the privilege to meet, thank you very much, not today’s blue plate special! And besides,” he added, flapping a hand at Ronon, “what about Muscles McStudly over there?”
Shanara’s laugh was low and dirty. “Oh, we saw quite enough of Ronon Dex on his last visit to make an accurate comparison. Though the fact that he was bleeding did detract from his charms somewhat.” She watched Rodney, her eyes heavy-lidded and lips pursed, “And you wear your trousers far more loosely than he does.”
“Right,” Rodney replied wisely and fled. The cackle of triumphant women followed him.
“Did you know they were going to do that?” he demanded of Ronon when he was able to find his voice again.
“Not exactly, but I could tell they were getting restless. Not a good idea to stick around a large group of bored women.”
“What would you know about it?” Rodney asked huffily. “I bet you have them eating out of your hand, with that whole cool rugged warrior thing you have going on.”
“Think again.” Ronon replied.
“What?”
“You have a sister.”
“Well, yes. Jeannie.”
“I had six. Six older sisters.”
“And?”
“My hair didn’t grow this way.”
Rodney blinked. “Huh.”
_._~*~_._
John was having a post-breakfast snooze when Gata’nah suddenly said, “Am I correct in thinking you do not yet have a plan to calm your friend's anxiety? It is a serious thing, on Gata, to see your basherta'nah thus and do nothing. The man I met did not seem the type to let a friend suffer.”
John sighed and rolled onto his back, letting his paws dangle above him.
“Hmph.” Gata’nah picked at his teeth meditatively.
John examined the thatched ceiling of the Spirit House, wishing for inspiration to strike. Rodney was incredible, and…Gata’nah was right. He just didn't know what to say.
“John Sheppard,” the shaman said slowly, “there is a ceremony. It is old and something we put aside. Time was, the Gata’nah-that-came-before-me and those that came before him thought it best that when a seeker came back, he should have the opportunity to start fresh. Speak his truth, heart and soul. Break ties if necessary. Of course, that led to stories like I told you earlier, of blood and pain and death.” He peered over at John, who regarded him seriously, albeit from an upside-down vantage point.
“This ceremony has risks, John Sheppard. You will be weary. Bone-tired weary.” Gata’nah frowned. “And this old man will make you stand on shaking legs to ask the questions as the ritual requires. You must answer fast, like a fish catching a fly.” He snapped his fingers to demonstrate. “And I will ask you in front of your family and all the village. Your family must answer you in the same way. Rodney McKay, if he has ears to hear, will know the truth, plain and direct and if he is brave, you will know the truth from him.” He grinned devilishly at John. “It has every opportunity of disaster, but somehow, John Sheppard, I think you may be a man accustomed to risk.”
John turned over and sat up, looking alert and interested.
Gata’nah nodded. “Good boy.”
_._~*~_._
Ronon led Rodney to a section of the river just below the village. He’d remained relatively silent for the entire walk, letting Rodney speak or not speak as as he chose, and nodded or murmured in reply. It was actually kind of restful, hanging out with Ronon and Rodney felt a little bit calmer.
“Ah,” Rodney remarked when they reached their destination, “a very picturesque scene.” The trees were in full, fresh leaf, having just passed the blossom stage of spring. Wild-flowering shrubs were beginning to add spots of color here and there, and all was lush and green and welcoming.
Ronon stooped and gathered a handful of rocks. “Still pretty muddy a month ago.” He gave Rodney a sidelong glance and skimmed a rock over the water. It fell just short of a boulder in the center.
“Hmm?” Rodney said, following the rock with his eyes. “Muddy?”
“When we were here last month; it was muddy.”
“Right.” Rodney collected a few rocks of his own, sat on a convenient rock and sorted through them. “Oh! When you were here last month,” he replied, finally getting it.
Ronon pointed silently to a bush behind Rodney’s left shoulder. Rodney turned and looked carefully at it. It was about as high as Rodney’s head and had thick, short and very sharp-looking thorns, like some sort of rose on steroids. One lone, bedraggled strip of brownish linen remained dangling, snagged across several brambles.
“Ow.”
Ronon’s answer was a dry grunt of agreement. He skipped another stone - closer this time - to the boulder.
“Good thing you caught him before he reached the river,” Rodney said quietly.
“I don’t think he would have gone in. He was aiming for the tree, but swerved at the last minute.”
“Ah, yes.” Rodney took careful aim and tried for the boulder. His rock skimmed beautifully, but sank just inches too short.
Ronon snorted. “You’d have done a better job. Not hurt him.”
“Well…” Rodney fumbled, trying to be generous.
“McKay.”
“Yeah, I would have.”
“I know it.” Ronon skimmed another rock and hit the boulder. He nodded to himself.
They threw rocks in companionable silence for a few minutes. Both had hit the boulder several times and by mutual, silent consent, were attempting the elusive quadruple skip.
“You worry a lot,” Ronon observed.
“It’s a frequent side effect of vast volumes of knowledge,” he snapped as he waved his hands around his head, “coupled with reality. Your point?”
“This thing - with Sheppard today - I wouldn’t.”
“I’m, I’m not…” he glared defensively at the side of Ronon’s head. “I’m not!”
Ronon looked at him.
“Okay, maybe a little.”
“Okay, maybe a lot,” Ronon shot back.
Rodney slumped against the rock.
Weighing a rock in his hand, Ronon glanced over at him. “You’re worried things are going to change with Sheppard. In a bad way.”
Rodney nodded miserably.
“McKay. Do you think he was happy, this last month?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so, I mean, accounting for….”
“McKay.”
“Fine, fine, yes.”
“Yup.” He skipped his rock, punctuating the point. “So were you. You said so.”
Rodney nodded.
“Last month could have been bad. He was little. He had no voice, had to wait all that time - but he was happy. You were happy. What about that is going to piss him off?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
Ronon rolled his eyes and threw several rocks in succession. “I have eyes. Only complicated if you make it.”
“Well, it's not just my choice!”
“Rodney? Ronon?” Teyla’s called.
“Over here!” Ronon called back. He put up a restraining hand as Rodney rose from his rock.
“I can’t pretend to know what Sheppard is feeling, but I know what I saw. And you know how bad he is at saying things.”
“Yeah,” Rodney snorted.
“No one else could have done what you did for him.” Ronon clapped him on the shoulder. “He’s a lucky man." He paused. "Except for the part where he keeps turning into things.”
Rodney managed to nod a few times, grateful.
Ronon affectionately shook him then clapped him on the back again. “We should catch up to Teyla.”
“Okay,” Rodney wheezed.
She was just around the next bend in the road, jogging toward them, her face alight.
“John is human again, we were just given word. Come quickly, I will tell you what I know.
“How is he? Have you seen him?” Rodney blurted.
“No, Gata’nah came out of the Spirit House and announced it. He has called for us all to gather at the river in few moments for the cleansing ceremony,” Telya said, a little breathless with excitement.
“Let’s get moving,” Ronon suggested.
As they turned toward the village, Rodney began peppering her with questions. “Ceremony? What ceremony? Do you think they’ll us see him if we get there early? Why didn’t you go in to check on him? Did the shaman say anything else?”
Teyla threw him an affectionate look. “I would have said immediately if I had seen him, Rodney,” she said softly. “I did ask; I am concerned for him too.”
“I-I didn’t mean to imply -“
She put a gentle hand on his arm. “It is alright. I should tell you right now, that no matter how fast walk, we will not see John until the shaman is good and ready.”
“That’s ridiculous! What good is ‘family’ status if we can’t see him? Wait don’t tell me; religion.”
Sighing in agreement, Teyla inclined her head. “The seeker - what they call the transformed person - is to bathe in the river to wash away his old self in preparation to start his life with the new knowledge of his spirit.”
“Right,” Rodney snapped impatiently.
“Might have a practical angle. No bath in a month,” Ronon observed. “Except for his own spit.”
Rodney shuddered. “Hadn’t thought of that,” he replied. “And he gets five o’clock shadow by noon.”
“Pretty hairy,” Ronon agreed.
“Grooming habits aside,” Teyla pressed on, “we are not to speak to John either.”
“For crying out loud,” Rodney whined, stomping a little.
“I agree,” she said icily.
“What’s bugging you?” Ronon asked. “You’re usually ‘honor the customs’ first.”
Teyla’s lips thinned and her chin raised slightly in stubborn tilt Rodney had seen in his sister a thousand times. “It’s just…I am looking forward to hearing the sound of his voice,” she said primly.
Ronon caught Rodney’s eye over her head and grinned. He bumped shoulders with Teyla. “Aww,” he said teasingly.
She bumped him back, hard. “Do not deny you feel the same thing.”
“I don’t.” He bumped her again, right into Rodney.
“Ronon!” she snapped, but a smile was tugging at the corner of her lips. “I am sorry, Rodney.” She reached out and smacked Ronon on the arm. He flinched dramatically.
Rodney bumped Teyla’s shoulder companionably. “I’m looking forward to it, too.”
She leaned into him. “I know you are. But we are not to speak to him until we are called. Nor he to us. I was told it is very important.”
“Whatever,” Rodney said airily. “He’s back, and he’s okay; that’s all I want.”
Ronon bumped Rodney by knocking Teyla into him again. “Liar,” the big man teased, ducking another smack from Teyla.
Rather than retaliate, Rodney started to walk faster, his eyes on the crowd of people gathered by the Spirit House. He broke into a jog, and then gave in and ran the last hundred yards. The crowd parted for him, and the shaman’s wife motioned them forward.
“You come in good time,” she called. “You are to stand here, as John Sheppard’s family.”
“Okay,” he puffed, catching his breath. Ronon and Teyla caught up and stood on either side of him.
“I am here in my daughter’s stead, she-who-will-be-Gata’nah when it is her father’s time to return to the Ancestors,” Shanara explained to them.
“O-kay,” Rodney replied, a little bewildered.
“We are honored to be here,” Teyla added.
“You honor us, grandmother,” said Ronon.
“Yes, yes; that!” Rodney said quickly. Ronon nudged him with his elbow. Shanara raised her eyebrow, amused and expectant. Rodney tried again. “Honored, grateful, delighted, really. Wonderful day. When can we see Colonel Sheppard?” He winced as Teyla’s elbow caught his rib.
Shanara’s other eyebrow went up and her smile deepened. Without a word, she turned and gestured to two young teenaged girls. They beamed and ran to the door of the Spirit House, their white hair ribbons rippling behind them. Hair ribboned girl #1 pulled open the heavy door, while the other, taller girl (hair ribbon #2) positioned herself carefully on the path. She stood very tall, serious about whatever it was she was about to do.
Rodney found himself squinting into the darkness beyond the doorway, hungry for any sign of John. Two figures wearing white walked slowly out of the dim building and Rodney found it hard to keep his feet still; everything in him wanted to move forward.
When they finally made it out into the sunlight, he was struck by John’s height. It had been so long since he’d seen him on two feet…he blinked, wishing he had some sunglasses, it was so bright and John was right in the sunlight walking carefully in his long robe.
His head was down, and he walked like he did when he was really tired and his knee acted up. He stopped, startled by the beribboned teenaged girl who had taken him by the elbow. His hair looked really long and floppy and when he turned his head to speak to hair ribbon #2, he had a scruffy-looking beard.
Hair ribbon #1 hovered behind the shaman, who stepped aside and allowed her to take her place just behind John’s other elbow. John spoke to her as well and shook his head. Both girls were frowning, and Rodney wanted to shout at them all to just hurry up.
Then John started walking forward, standing straight, if a little unsteady. He lifted his head, looked right Rodney and smiled.
Something in Rodney’s chest burst into hot, joyful flames, making it hard to breathe. Teyla’s hand slipped into his and he clutched at it, nearly vibrating with excitement. Beside him, he could feel Ronon shift to the balls of his feet, ready to move any second.
Blinking, Rodney willed the moisture in his eyes away and smiled back at John, who ducked his head shyly, offering a wry, private grin at being the focus of so much attention.
Rodney had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
._~*~_.
Gata’nah walked to a flat boulder a few feet from the river’s edge. He glanced back to check John’s progress (about half way, with the ribbon girls’ hands hovering solicitously under his elbows) and addressed the crowd.
“My children, and honored guests,” he said warmly, “a seeker has returned to us.”
The villagers cheered and Rodney had a giddy, stray thought about the shaman and John playing Prime-Not Prime.
“Seeker John Sheppard has walked in the way of his spirit for the last turning of the moon; this is a blessed gift from the Ancestors and not one often given. This gift, as you know, came upon him unawares as he stood in brotherhood with us to honor our ways. Confusion, fear and an unexpected footrace descended upon us; the seeker was nearly lost before he took the path.”
Gata’nah glanced at John, who had reached the edge of the rock beside him. He grasped John’s shoulder lightly.
“John Sheppard struck out on his own and went to ground in a thornbush.”
John made an apologetic face at Ronon. The crowd chuckled.
“Bad beginnings can have good endings. Friends found the lost seeker, and allowed their own flesh to be torn to protect him from other perils. He was taken to good people who cared for him and allowed him to seek the path of his spirit. He has come back to us at the end of this journey, and the beginning of another. He stands before you, renewed in spirit. He stands before you a seeker who has found his treasure. He stands before you, a new path ahead of him, yet with the dust of his old life clinging to his skin.”
“Seeker, answer me true; where have you been?”
“A journey, Gata'nah.” John's voice was rough from disuse.
“What did you learn?”
“I am not alone.”
“Who taught you this?”
“My family, my friends. My city.”
“Seeker, would you return there?”
“Yes,” John nodded emphatically. “But I need . . . help. I’m tired. And I smell pretty bad.”
Everyone laughed until Gata’nah shot them a sharp look. John, in the meantime, had closed his eyes and was leaning into the shaman’s hand, clearly exhausted. The young girls gently eased him down to sit on a boulder. He shook his head, obviously trying to stay alert.
“Seeker, who comes to claim you?
“My family will come.” He smiled crookedly at his team.
Gata’nah walked in front of Ronon and frowned up at him critically. He looked at each team member in turn, his gaze piercing. “Answer what you are asked from your heart, understand?
“Yes, sir.” Ronon stood a little straighter. Teyla and Rodney nodded.
Gata’nah looked at Ronon as though he were a bug; as if they had never shared a meal or spoken before. He pointed, nodding to John. “Has this one come to claim? Name this man.
John looked up, squinting in the bright sunshine. “Warrior. Survivor. He challenges me." John cleared his throat. "Ronon’s my brother.”
“Are you this man’s brother, Ronon Dex? Tell me his name.”
“John Sheppard is my brother.” Ronon looked proud and it hit Rodney just how much those words must mean to a man who had lost everything.
“Your brother has need of you. He would be clean before he returns home, but he is weary. Will you help him? ”
“I will.” Ronon, a fierce smile on his face, strode to John and lifted him up in a huge hug, as John laughed weakly and thumped him on the back. Gently, the big man lowered him to the ground, as if finally realizing John’s exhaustion. Sheppard patted his shoulder and leaned against him, nodding to the shaman for the next question.
“Seeker, who comes to claim you?”
“My family will come.”
Gata’nah pointed to Teyla. “Has this one come to claim? Name this woman.”
“Leader. Wise. Strong. He paused, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Teyla Emmagen is my sister.”
Teyla put her hand to her heart and bowed to John in thanks, her eyes shining.
Gata’nah spoke softly. “Are you this man’s sister, Teyla Emmagen? Tell me his name.”
“My brother,” she spoke with words with calm delight, “is John Sheppard.”
“Your brother has need of you. He is weary. Will you help him?”
“Gladly.”
“If you will guide him to the river, then.” Gata’nah waved her in John’s direction, and followed her as she strode quickly to John.
Ronon kept a steadying hand on John’s back as he straightened to touch foreheads with Teyla. As they whispered greetings to one another, Ronon met Rodney’s eyes over the heads of the crowd and offered a reassuring, happy smile. Rodney was grateful - he felt so adrift.
He watched, helplessly, as Ronon and Teyla led John to the riverbank, taking turns supporting him while they quickly stripped. As they got down to their underwear, the young girls came forward, offering white robes like John’s. They murmured to one another and to John, then shrugged, stripping down to bare skin.
Gata’nah gave them low-voiced instructions as Teyla stood behind John and removed his robe, while Ronon bundled his dreads off his neck. Over John’s protests, he scooped John up and waded with him to the middle of the river. Teyla followed, carrying soap. She threw a wryly amused smile over to Rodney.
John kept twisting his head over Ronon’s shoulder. Finally he locked eyes with Rodney and smiled a tired smile. Rodney ventured a small wave. John waved back. Rodney felt about 20% better. It was hard to be so far away from them. He crept forward a few steps. Teyla was washing John’s hair (John’s hair.) while Ronon braced him above the water. John was rubbing at his beard and murmuring something to Ronon, who nodded.
After they rinsed his hair, which seemed to involve a lot of splashing, Teyla swam to shore and received a another cake of something that foamed when she added water and rubbed it between her hands. She spread it on John’s face - dabbing a bit of it on his nose - and Ronon pulled a long, cruel-looking knife from his dreads. He tested the edge of it against his thumb. Rodney hadn’t realized he'd stepped forward again until a hand closed over his elbow.
“Best not to startle one man shaving another with a blade that large,” a familiar voice said in his ear. He turned to find Shanara, the shaman’s wife, at his side. “You must not go until you are called Rodney McKay.”
“I just wanted to -“
“I know,” she said kindly, “but please allow an old woman to beg a favor.”
“Excuse me?”
“My husband has chosen the old words for this cleansing; special words. He knows something we don’t about your John Sheppard.”
Rodney opened his mouth to protest, but she shushed him and slipped her hand into his.
“Wait. There must be a good reason for him to choose it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there are other things sharper than that knife Ronon Dex holds at his throat. Sharp words. I don’t know. Let me stand here with you until your name is spoken.”
She squeezed his hand, staring hard into his eyes. Rodney gulped and acquiesced.
“You’re being very nice to me,” he said faintly.
“Not many talk back to me.” she whispered dryly. “Not many are able, I should say.”
“Wow, that’s usually my argument.”
“Well, then,” she patted him happily. “This made a nice change for you.”
Ronon splashed the remaining foam off John’s face, chuckling as John accidentally snorted water up his nose. John spluttered something that made the others laugh and Ronon slid the knife into back into his hair. They led John to shallower water.
“Gata’nah, our brother is ready to return home,” Teyla smiled warmly, damp hair clinging to her cheeks.
The old man turned to Rodney, his face stern and sharp. He glared at his wife, who shrugged and gave Rodney’s hand one last squeeze, but remained standing beside him.
Gata’nah faced John, who stood shivering a little in the waist-deep water. “Seeker, who comes to claim you?
“My family.”
“Has this one come to claim? Name this man.”
John blushed and swallowed hard. Rodney couldn’t breathe.
“A brilliant,” John said in a halting voice. “a brilliant…” He stopped, looked down, swallowed again, then took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
Teyla whispered something to him and John shook his head stubbornly.
Unable to bear looking at him any longer, Rodney concentrated on his hands, trying to steady his breathing and feeling like an idiot. He felt Shanara bump his shoulder and felt ridiculously grateful.
“No.” John’s carried over the water, his voice shaky. “I can do this.”
“What?” Rodney was suddenly furious. “What is so awful you can’t just say it? Trust me, I’ve heard most of it before! Pig headed? Short-tempered! Arrogant? Come on! You dredged up a couple of nice words for everyone else! I took care of you for a month! I brushed you every day! I’m sure you can come up with something half-decent before you catch pneumonia! Or if you can’t just get out of there and get dressed so we can go home and I can forget this ever happened! Your lips are turning blue, you idiot!”
“He must answer,” Gata’nah intoned.
“This is crazy!” Rodney spat.
“I want to do it!” John yelled back. “Just shut up!”
“Well?” Rodney quavered. He gestured for him to go on, throwing him a sheepish look.
Gata’nah asked the question again. “Has this one come to claim? Name this man.”
John’s voice was strong, if slightly choked. “Brilliant. Generous. Patient." John swayed slightly, but kept his eyes locked on Rodney. “I trust him. Rodney has my heart.”
“Oh,” Rodney whispered, lightheaded. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected any of that.
“Do you hold this man’s heart, Rodney McKay? Tell me his name.”
Rodney looked at Gata’nah, trying to understand the words coming out of his mouth. The old shaman smiled, and pressed his hand to Rodney’s chest.
“Breathe, boy, before your lungs marry a fish.”
Rodney blinked. “That…you’re not making any sense.”
“I don’t have to; you do. Now look at that man and tell me what you know is true.”
The breath hitched painfully in Rodney’s chest. “That’s John.”
“And?”
“I have his heart?” Rodney whispered, his voice breaking. Across the water, John nodded, shy and happy.
“He has need of you, boy; go help him. He’s cold.” Gata’nah said kindly, pressing some fabric into Rodney’s hands.
Rodney fumbled at the cloth, realizing it was the big robe they’d wrapped John in before. He managed to get to the riverbank without falling over or getting it wet and unfolded it, holding it out in open arms.
John struggled forward a few steps, trying to shake Ronon and Teyla off, until Ronon grinned at Rodney, grabbed John and impatiently lugged him closer to shore. Everyone laughed - including John - releasing some of the tension, and Rodney took a moment to wipe his eyes and nose on his sleeve.
John kicked free of Ronon when the water was about shin-deep, put his head down and made the last few steps on his own. When he reached the bank, he raised his head and looked straight at Rodney, a strangely familiar, humble question on his face.
“You…of course you have mine, too!" Rodney flustered, a lump in his throat, "are you blind?"
John walked straight into his arms. "Hey,” he said softly, rubbing his nose against Rodney's neck, "hey, now." He shivered, mumbling, "Just checking."
"So stupid. Both of us," Rodney fussed shakily, trying to fold the robe around John, while John interfered by making reassuring noises and getting tangled up. Finally, Rodney tucked John's head against his neck, bundled him up and held on tight. "I missed you," he whispered. "You...you know. I did."
"Rodney," John breathed, his voice slow and golden with affection as he slumped wearily into Rodney's arms. He brushed a sleepy kiss to Rodney's shoulder, hummed contentedly when Rodney pressed him close and acted like he was going to take a nap right there.
Then Teyla and Ronon splashed ashore and gathered them in, laughing and hugging whoever they could reach, getting Rodney soaking wet. He didn't care at all.
_._~*~_.__._~*~_.__._~*~_._
Series:Checkmate ‘Verse
Author: Beadattitude
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: PG
Beta: sheafrotherdon, who whittled me down when I ran too wordy, and who has my deepest thanks.
Warnings: Animal transformation, angst, schmoop, romance
Author's Notes: One more chapter to go! Probably by the end of the week. I'm pretty pooped.
Summary: Rivers, rocks and Rodney. Oh, and John's human again.
Teaser: “It has every opportunity of disaster, but somehow, John Sheppard, I think you may be a man accustomed to risk.”
John turned over and sat up, looking alert and interested.
Gata’nah nodded. “Good boy.”
_._~*~_.__._~*~_.__._~*~_._
“Come on, McKay,” Ronon said, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed, “taking a walk.”
“What?” Rodney spluttered, “I am walking!” He gestured to the well-paced dirt around him, “right here, in fact.”
“I believe what Ronon is trying to say is that it would be more restful for our hosts if you walked elsewhere for a while, Rodney,” Teyla said gently.
Rodney looked at the group of women assembled near the Spirit House as if for the first time. One of the village maidens who had happily poured kafa and flashed her cleavage at him just this morning scowled and beat the dust from her skirts. Teyla raised her eyebrows significantly and gazed at her own dust-covered shins and those of the women near her. Apparently he’d been pacing a little enthusiastically.
He looked at Ronon, who tilted his head in a “hurry up” gesture.
“But -” Rodney gestured helplessly to the Spirit House.
“Not going far.”
“But -”
“You will miss nothing,” Teyla said soothingly. “I promise you.”
“But -”
“McKay. Now,” Ronon called in a voice that promised blood and pain and lots of unpleasant things.
“But -” he tried one last time, in a very small voice. He had the irrational wish to hide behind Teyla.
“Rodney McKay,” a village matron - the shaman’s wife - said in a ringing voice, “despite your honorable position, I warn you; if you do not go now, we will simply talk about the breadth of your shoulders and the firmness of your rump with you standing before us. It is a very fine rump.”
There were general murmurs of assent. Rodney felt his face flame.
“If we are lucky,” Shanara added, throwing her silver braid over her shoulder, “perhaps you shall strip down for us so that we may be more accurate.” She gave him the most overt once-over he’d ever received in his life.
Rodney, having traumatic flashbacks about teenage girls, found himself utterly unable to reply.
“Modest as well as handsome!” Shanara exclaimed, pleased. She sauntered forward and clapped Rodney on the shoulder in a predatory way. “Tell me, Rodney McKay, do they cut the foreskins of males on your world when they are infants, when they come of age or when they marry?”
Rodney forced himself not to shriek with horror and cover himself. Teyla rose, hopefully to come to his rescue, but he took a deep breath and found his voice.
“I’ll have you know I’m one of the most brilliant scientists you’ll ever have the privilege to meet, thank you very much, not today’s blue plate special! And besides,” he added, flapping a hand at Ronon, “what about Muscles McStudly over there?”
Shanara’s laugh was low and dirty. “Oh, we saw quite enough of Ronon Dex on his last visit to make an accurate comparison. Though the fact that he was bleeding did detract from his charms somewhat.” She watched Rodney, her eyes heavy-lidded and lips pursed, “And you wear your trousers far more loosely than he does.”
“Right,” Rodney replied wisely and fled. The cackle of triumphant women followed him.
“Did you know they were going to do that?” he demanded of Ronon when he was able to find his voice again.
“Not exactly, but I could tell they were getting restless. Not a good idea to stick around a large group of bored women.”
“What would you know about it?” Rodney asked huffily. “I bet you have them eating out of your hand, with that whole cool rugged warrior thing you have going on.”
“Think again.” Ronon replied.
“What?”
“You have a sister.”
“Well, yes. Jeannie.”
“I had six. Six older sisters.”
“And?”
“My hair didn’t grow this way.”
Rodney blinked. “Huh.”
_._~*~_._
John was having a post-breakfast snooze when Gata’nah suddenly said, “Am I correct in thinking you do not yet have a plan to calm your friend's anxiety? It is a serious thing, on Gata, to see your basherta'nah thus and do nothing. The man I met did not seem the type to let a friend suffer.”
John sighed and rolled onto his back, letting his paws dangle above him.
“Hmph.” Gata’nah picked at his teeth meditatively.
John examined the thatched ceiling of the Spirit House, wishing for inspiration to strike. Rodney was incredible, and…Gata’nah was right. He just didn't know what to say.
“John Sheppard,” the shaman said slowly, “there is a ceremony. It is old and something we put aside. Time was, the Gata’nah-that-came-before-me and those that came before him thought it best that when a seeker came back, he should have the opportunity to start fresh. Speak his truth, heart and soul. Break ties if necessary. Of course, that led to stories like I told you earlier, of blood and pain and death.” He peered over at John, who regarded him seriously, albeit from an upside-down vantage point.
“This ceremony has risks, John Sheppard. You will be weary. Bone-tired weary.” Gata’nah frowned. “And this old man will make you stand on shaking legs to ask the questions as the ritual requires. You must answer fast, like a fish catching a fly.” He snapped his fingers to demonstrate. “And I will ask you in front of your family and all the village. Your family must answer you in the same way. Rodney McKay, if he has ears to hear, will know the truth, plain and direct and if he is brave, you will know the truth from him.” He grinned devilishly at John. “It has every opportunity of disaster, but somehow, John Sheppard, I think you may be a man accustomed to risk.”
John turned over and sat up, looking alert and interested.
Gata’nah nodded. “Good boy.”
_._~*~_._
Ronon led Rodney to a section of the river just below the village. He’d remained relatively silent for the entire walk, letting Rodney speak or not speak as as he chose, and nodded or murmured in reply. It was actually kind of restful, hanging out with Ronon and Rodney felt a little bit calmer.
“Ah,” Rodney remarked when they reached their destination, “a very picturesque scene.” The trees were in full, fresh leaf, having just passed the blossom stage of spring. Wild-flowering shrubs were beginning to add spots of color here and there, and all was lush and green and welcoming.
Ronon stooped and gathered a handful of rocks. “Still pretty muddy a month ago.” He gave Rodney a sidelong glance and skimmed a rock over the water. It fell just short of a boulder in the center.
“Hmm?” Rodney said, following the rock with his eyes. “Muddy?”
“When we were here last month; it was muddy.”
“Right.” Rodney collected a few rocks of his own, sat on a convenient rock and sorted through them. “Oh! When you were here last month,” he replied, finally getting it.
Ronon pointed silently to a bush behind Rodney’s left shoulder. Rodney turned and looked carefully at it. It was about as high as Rodney’s head and had thick, short and very sharp-looking thorns, like some sort of rose on steroids. One lone, bedraggled strip of brownish linen remained dangling, snagged across several brambles.
“Ow.”
Ronon’s answer was a dry grunt of agreement. He skipped another stone - closer this time - to the boulder.
“Good thing you caught him before he reached the river,” Rodney said quietly.
“I don’t think he would have gone in. He was aiming for the tree, but swerved at the last minute.”
“Ah, yes.” Rodney took careful aim and tried for the boulder. His rock skimmed beautifully, but sank just inches too short.
Ronon snorted. “You’d have done a better job. Not hurt him.”
“Well…” Rodney fumbled, trying to be generous.
“McKay.”
“Yeah, I would have.”
“I know it.” Ronon skimmed another rock and hit the boulder. He nodded to himself.
They threw rocks in companionable silence for a few minutes. Both had hit the boulder several times and by mutual, silent consent, were attempting the elusive quadruple skip.
“You worry a lot,” Ronon observed.
“It’s a frequent side effect of vast volumes of knowledge,” he snapped as he waved his hands around his head, “coupled with reality. Your point?”
“This thing - with Sheppard today - I wouldn’t.”
“I’m, I’m not…” he glared defensively at the side of Ronon’s head. “I’m not!”
Ronon looked at him.
“Okay, maybe a little.”
“Okay, maybe a lot,” Ronon shot back.
Rodney slumped against the rock.
Weighing a rock in his hand, Ronon glanced over at him. “You’re worried things are going to change with Sheppard. In a bad way.”
Rodney nodded miserably.
“McKay. Do you think he was happy, this last month?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so, I mean, accounting for….”
“McKay.”
“Fine, fine, yes.”
“Yup.” He skipped his rock, punctuating the point. “So were you. You said so.”
Rodney nodded.
“Last month could have been bad. He was little. He had no voice, had to wait all that time - but he was happy. You were happy. What about that is going to piss him off?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
Ronon rolled his eyes and threw several rocks in succession. “I have eyes. Only complicated if you make it.”
“Well, it's not just my choice!”
“Rodney? Ronon?” Teyla’s called.
“Over here!” Ronon called back. He put up a restraining hand as Rodney rose from his rock.
“I can’t pretend to know what Sheppard is feeling, but I know what I saw. And you know how bad he is at saying things.”
“Yeah,” Rodney snorted.
“No one else could have done what you did for him.” Ronon clapped him on the shoulder. “He’s a lucky man." He paused. "Except for the part where he keeps turning into things.”
Rodney managed to nod a few times, grateful.
Ronon affectionately shook him then clapped him on the back again. “We should catch up to Teyla.”
“Okay,” Rodney wheezed.
She was just around the next bend in the road, jogging toward them, her face alight.
“John is human again, we were just given word. Come quickly, I will tell you what I know.
“How is he? Have you seen him?” Rodney blurted.
“No, Gata’nah came out of the Spirit House and announced it. He has called for us all to gather at the river in few moments for the cleansing ceremony,” Telya said, a little breathless with excitement.
“Let’s get moving,” Ronon suggested.
As they turned toward the village, Rodney began peppering her with questions. “Ceremony? What ceremony? Do you think they’ll us see him if we get there early? Why didn’t you go in to check on him? Did the shaman say anything else?”
Teyla threw him an affectionate look. “I would have said immediately if I had seen him, Rodney,” she said softly. “I did ask; I am concerned for him too.”
“I-I didn’t mean to imply -“
She put a gentle hand on his arm. “It is alright. I should tell you right now, that no matter how fast walk, we will not see John until the shaman is good and ready.”
“That’s ridiculous! What good is ‘family’ status if we can’t see him? Wait don’t tell me; religion.”
Sighing in agreement, Teyla inclined her head. “The seeker - what they call the transformed person - is to bathe in the river to wash away his old self in preparation to start his life with the new knowledge of his spirit.”
“Right,” Rodney snapped impatiently.
“Might have a practical angle. No bath in a month,” Ronon observed. “Except for his own spit.”
Rodney shuddered. “Hadn’t thought of that,” he replied. “And he gets five o’clock shadow by noon.”
“Pretty hairy,” Ronon agreed.
“Grooming habits aside,” Teyla pressed on, “we are not to speak to John either.”
“For crying out loud,” Rodney whined, stomping a little.
“I agree,” she said icily.
“What’s bugging you?” Ronon asked. “You’re usually ‘honor the customs’ first.”
Teyla’s lips thinned and her chin raised slightly in stubborn tilt Rodney had seen in his sister a thousand times. “It’s just…I am looking forward to hearing the sound of his voice,” she said primly.
Ronon caught Rodney’s eye over her head and grinned. He bumped shoulders with Teyla. “Aww,” he said teasingly.
She bumped him back, hard. “Do not deny you feel the same thing.”
“I don’t.” He bumped her again, right into Rodney.
“Ronon!” she snapped, but a smile was tugging at the corner of her lips. “I am sorry, Rodney.” She reached out and smacked Ronon on the arm. He flinched dramatically.
Rodney bumped Teyla’s shoulder companionably. “I’m looking forward to it, too.”
She leaned into him. “I know you are. But we are not to speak to him until we are called. Nor he to us. I was told it is very important.”
“Whatever,” Rodney said airily. “He’s back, and he’s okay; that’s all I want.”
Ronon bumped Rodney by knocking Teyla into him again. “Liar,” the big man teased, ducking another smack from Teyla.
Rather than retaliate, Rodney started to walk faster, his eyes on the crowd of people gathered by the Spirit House. He broke into a jog, and then gave in and ran the last hundred yards. The crowd parted for him, and the shaman’s wife motioned them forward.
“You come in good time,” she called. “You are to stand here, as John Sheppard’s family.”
“Okay,” he puffed, catching his breath. Ronon and Teyla caught up and stood on either side of him.
“I am here in my daughter’s stead, she-who-will-be-Gata’nah when it is her father’s time to return to the Ancestors,” Shanara explained to them.
“O-kay,” Rodney replied, a little bewildered.
“We are honored to be here,” Teyla added.
“You honor us, grandmother,” said Ronon.
“Yes, yes; that!” Rodney said quickly. Ronon nudged him with his elbow. Shanara raised her eyebrow, amused and expectant. Rodney tried again. “Honored, grateful, delighted, really. Wonderful day. When can we see Colonel Sheppard?” He winced as Teyla’s elbow caught his rib.
Shanara’s other eyebrow went up and her smile deepened. Without a word, she turned and gestured to two young teenaged girls. They beamed and ran to the door of the Spirit House, their white hair ribbons rippling behind them. Hair ribboned girl #1 pulled open the heavy door, while the other, taller girl (hair ribbon #2) positioned herself carefully on the path. She stood very tall, serious about whatever it was she was about to do.
Rodney found himself squinting into the darkness beyond the doorway, hungry for any sign of John. Two figures wearing white walked slowly out of the dim building and Rodney found it hard to keep his feet still; everything in him wanted to move forward.
When they finally made it out into the sunlight, he was struck by John’s height. It had been so long since he’d seen him on two feet…he blinked, wishing he had some sunglasses, it was so bright and John was right in the sunlight walking carefully in his long robe.
His head was down, and he walked like he did when he was really tired and his knee acted up. He stopped, startled by the beribboned teenaged girl who had taken him by the elbow. His hair looked really long and floppy and when he turned his head to speak to hair ribbon #2, he had a scruffy-looking beard.
Hair ribbon #1 hovered behind the shaman, who stepped aside and allowed her to take her place just behind John’s other elbow. John spoke to her as well and shook his head. Both girls were frowning, and Rodney wanted to shout at them all to just hurry up.
Then John started walking forward, standing straight, if a little unsteady. He lifted his head, looked right Rodney and smiled.
Something in Rodney’s chest burst into hot, joyful flames, making it hard to breathe. Teyla’s hand slipped into his and he clutched at it, nearly vibrating with excitement. Beside him, he could feel Ronon shift to the balls of his feet, ready to move any second.
Blinking, Rodney willed the moisture in his eyes away and smiled back at John, who ducked his head shyly, offering a wry, private grin at being the focus of so much attention.
Rodney had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
._~*~_.
Gata’nah walked to a flat boulder a few feet from the river’s edge. He glanced back to check John’s progress (about half way, with the ribbon girls’ hands hovering solicitously under his elbows) and addressed the crowd.
“My children, and honored guests,” he said warmly, “a seeker has returned to us.”
The villagers cheered and Rodney had a giddy, stray thought about the shaman and John playing Prime-Not Prime.
“Seeker John Sheppard has walked in the way of his spirit for the last turning of the moon; this is a blessed gift from the Ancestors and not one often given. This gift, as you know, came upon him unawares as he stood in brotherhood with us to honor our ways. Confusion, fear and an unexpected footrace descended upon us; the seeker was nearly lost before he took the path.”
Gata’nah glanced at John, who had reached the edge of the rock beside him. He grasped John’s shoulder lightly.
“John Sheppard struck out on his own and went to ground in a thornbush.”
John made an apologetic face at Ronon. The crowd chuckled.
“Bad beginnings can have good endings. Friends found the lost seeker, and allowed their own flesh to be torn to protect him from other perils. He was taken to good people who cared for him and allowed him to seek the path of his spirit. He has come back to us at the end of this journey, and the beginning of another. He stands before you, renewed in spirit. He stands before you a seeker who has found his treasure. He stands before you, a new path ahead of him, yet with the dust of his old life clinging to his skin.”
“Seeker, answer me true; where have you been?”
“A journey, Gata'nah.” John's voice was rough from disuse.
“What did you learn?”
“I am not alone.”
“Who taught you this?”
“My family, my friends. My city.”
“Seeker, would you return there?”
“Yes,” John nodded emphatically. “But I need . . . help. I’m tired. And I smell pretty bad.”
Everyone laughed until Gata’nah shot them a sharp look. John, in the meantime, had closed his eyes and was leaning into the shaman’s hand, clearly exhausted. The young girls gently eased him down to sit on a boulder. He shook his head, obviously trying to stay alert.
“Seeker, who comes to claim you?
“My family will come.” He smiled crookedly at his team.
Gata’nah walked in front of Ronon and frowned up at him critically. He looked at each team member in turn, his gaze piercing. “Answer what you are asked from your heart, understand?
“Yes, sir.” Ronon stood a little straighter. Teyla and Rodney nodded.
Gata’nah looked at Ronon as though he were a bug; as if they had never shared a meal or spoken before. He pointed, nodding to John. “Has this one come to claim? Name this man.
John looked up, squinting in the bright sunshine. “Warrior. Survivor. He challenges me." John cleared his throat. "Ronon’s my brother.”
“Are you this man’s brother, Ronon Dex? Tell me his name.”
“John Sheppard is my brother.” Ronon looked proud and it hit Rodney just how much those words must mean to a man who had lost everything.
“Your brother has need of you. He would be clean before he returns home, but he is weary. Will you help him? ”
“I will.” Ronon, a fierce smile on his face, strode to John and lifted him up in a huge hug, as John laughed weakly and thumped him on the back. Gently, the big man lowered him to the ground, as if finally realizing John’s exhaustion. Sheppard patted his shoulder and leaned against him, nodding to the shaman for the next question.
“Seeker, who comes to claim you?”
“My family will come.”
Gata’nah pointed to Teyla. “Has this one come to claim? Name this woman.”
“Leader. Wise. Strong. He paused, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Teyla Emmagen is my sister.”
Teyla put her hand to her heart and bowed to John in thanks, her eyes shining.
Gata’nah spoke softly. “Are you this man’s sister, Teyla Emmagen? Tell me his name.”
“My brother,” she spoke with words with calm delight, “is John Sheppard.”
“Your brother has need of you. He is weary. Will you help him?”
“Gladly.”
“If you will guide him to the river, then.” Gata’nah waved her in John’s direction, and followed her as she strode quickly to John.
Ronon kept a steadying hand on John’s back as he straightened to touch foreheads with Teyla. As they whispered greetings to one another, Ronon met Rodney’s eyes over the heads of the crowd and offered a reassuring, happy smile. Rodney was grateful - he felt so adrift.
He watched, helplessly, as Ronon and Teyla led John to the riverbank, taking turns supporting him while they quickly stripped. As they got down to their underwear, the young girls came forward, offering white robes like John’s. They murmured to one another and to John, then shrugged, stripping down to bare skin.
Gata’nah gave them low-voiced instructions as Teyla stood behind John and removed his robe, while Ronon bundled his dreads off his neck. Over John’s protests, he scooped John up and waded with him to the middle of the river. Teyla followed, carrying soap. She threw a wryly amused smile over to Rodney.
John kept twisting his head over Ronon’s shoulder. Finally he locked eyes with Rodney and smiled a tired smile. Rodney ventured a small wave. John waved back. Rodney felt about 20% better. It was hard to be so far away from them. He crept forward a few steps. Teyla was washing John’s hair (John’s hair.) while Ronon braced him above the water. John was rubbing at his beard and murmuring something to Ronon, who nodded.
After they rinsed his hair, which seemed to involve a lot of splashing, Teyla swam to shore and received a another cake of something that foamed when she added water and rubbed it between her hands. She spread it on John’s face - dabbing a bit of it on his nose - and Ronon pulled a long, cruel-looking knife from his dreads. He tested the edge of it against his thumb. Rodney hadn’t realized he'd stepped forward again until a hand closed over his elbow.
“Best not to startle one man shaving another with a blade that large,” a familiar voice said in his ear. He turned to find Shanara, the shaman’s wife, at his side. “You must not go until you are called Rodney McKay.”
“I just wanted to -“
“I know,” she said kindly, “but please allow an old woman to beg a favor.”
“Excuse me?”
“My husband has chosen the old words for this cleansing; special words. He knows something we don’t about your John Sheppard.”
Rodney opened his mouth to protest, but she shushed him and slipped her hand into his.
“Wait. There must be a good reason for him to choose it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there are other things sharper than that knife Ronon Dex holds at his throat. Sharp words. I don’t know. Let me stand here with you until your name is spoken.”
She squeezed his hand, staring hard into his eyes. Rodney gulped and acquiesced.
“You’re being very nice to me,” he said faintly.
“Not many talk back to me.” she whispered dryly. “Not many are able, I should say.”
“Wow, that’s usually my argument.”
“Well, then,” she patted him happily. “This made a nice change for you.”
Ronon splashed the remaining foam off John’s face, chuckling as John accidentally snorted water up his nose. John spluttered something that made the others laugh and Ronon slid the knife into back into his hair. They led John to shallower water.
“Gata’nah, our brother is ready to return home,” Teyla smiled warmly, damp hair clinging to her cheeks.
The old man turned to Rodney, his face stern and sharp. He glared at his wife, who shrugged and gave Rodney’s hand one last squeeze, but remained standing beside him.
Gata’nah faced John, who stood shivering a little in the waist-deep water. “Seeker, who comes to claim you?
“My family.”
“Has this one come to claim? Name this man.”
John blushed and swallowed hard. Rodney couldn’t breathe.
“A brilliant,” John said in a halting voice. “a brilliant…” He stopped, looked down, swallowed again, then took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
Teyla whispered something to him and John shook his head stubbornly.
Unable to bear looking at him any longer, Rodney concentrated on his hands, trying to steady his breathing and feeling like an idiot. He felt Shanara bump his shoulder and felt ridiculously grateful.
“No.” John’s carried over the water, his voice shaky. “I can do this.”
“What?” Rodney was suddenly furious. “What is so awful you can’t just say it? Trust me, I’ve heard most of it before! Pig headed? Short-tempered! Arrogant? Come on! You dredged up a couple of nice words for everyone else! I took care of you for a month! I brushed you every day! I’m sure you can come up with something half-decent before you catch pneumonia! Or if you can’t just get out of there and get dressed so we can go home and I can forget this ever happened! Your lips are turning blue, you idiot!”
“He must answer,” Gata’nah intoned.
“This is crazy!” Rodney spat.
“I want to do it!” John yelled back. “Just shut up!”
“Well?” Rodney quavered. He gestured for him to go on, throwing him a sheepish look.
Gata’nah asked the question again. “Has this one come to claim? Name this man.”
John’s voice was strong, if slightly choked. “Brilliant. Generous. Patient." John swayed slightly, but kept his eyes locked on Rodney. “I trust him. Rodney has my heart.”
“Oh,” Rodney whispered, lightheaded. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected any of that.
“Do you hold this man’s heart, Rodney McKay? Tell me his name.”
Rodney looked at Gata’nah, trying to understand the words coming out of his mouth. The old shaman smiled, and pressed his hand to Rodney’s chest.
“Breathe, boy, before your lungs marry a fish.”
Rodney blinked. “That…you’re not making any sense.”
“I don’t have to; you do. Now look at that man and tell me what you know is true.”
The breath hitched painfully in Rodney’s chest. “That’s John.”
“And?”
“I have his heart?” Rodney whispered, his voice breaking. Across the water, John nodded, shy and happy.
“He has need of you, boy; go help him. He’s cold.” Gata’nah said kindly, pressing some fabric into Rodney’s hands.
Rodney fumbled at the cloth, realizing it was the big robe they’d wrapped John in before. He managed to get to the riverbank without falling over or getting it wet and unfolded it, holding it out in open arms.
John struggled forward a few steps, trying to shake Ronon and Teyla off, until Ronon grinned at Rodney, grabbed John and impatiently lugged him closer to shore. Everyone laughed - including John - releasing some of the tension, and Rodney took a moment to wipe his eyes and nose on his sleeve.
John kicked free of Ronon when the water was about shin-deep, put his head down and made the last few steps on his own. When he reached the bank, he raised his head and looked straight at Rodney, a strangely familiar, humble question on his face.
“You…of course you have mine, too!" Rodney flustered, a lump in his throat, "are you blind?"
John walked straight into his arms. "Hey,” he said softly, rubbing his nose against Rodney's neck, "hey, now." He shivered, mumbling, "Just checking."
"So stupid. Both of us," Rodney fussed shakily, trying to fold the robe around John, while John interfered by making reassuring noises and getting tangled up. Finally, Rodney tucked John's head against his neck, bundled him up and held on tight. "I missed you," he whispered. "You...you know. I did."
"Rodney," John breathed, his voice slow and golden with affection as he slumped wearily into Rodney's arms. He brushed a sleepy kiss to Rodney's shoulder, hummed contentedly when Rodney pressed him close and acted like he was going to take a nap right there.
Then Teyla and Ronon splashed ashore and gathered them in, laughing and hugging whoever they could reach, getting Rodney soaking wet. He didn't care at all.
_._~*~_.__._~*~_.__._~*~_._