(no subject)

Mar 12, 2009 00:50

Title: Right Now
Rating: PG-13
By: Jenda Vis
Spoilers: Up through Broken Ties
Pairing: Sheppard/Dex
Genre: Angst, veering into AU
Warnings: Dubious unbetaed prose
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: Right now, things are a mess.
A/N: Just something I almost threw inside IATW that wouldn't leave me alone. If you see something here that looks wonky, let me know- this is the product of me writing while on cold medicine. :)

Right Now

John's watching, right now, like he did those first few days when you came to his city. When the floors were too loud and the walls too solid and every single person was the same as yesterday.

He watches like you haven't killed any of his people, but you just might start. Or worse, like you're supposed to have some answers by now.

Like he knows he should have killed you when he had the chance. Just like he knows he can't let you leave. Or like he wants you to prove him wrong, only you can't, because none of this is as real as coming back to life a hundred times in a day.
---

"How's he doing?" Woolsey's voice comes from Sheppard's blind spot, but he doesn't turn from where he's watching Ronon, down the hallway, stalking out of the gym. Watching Sergeant Malone, a moment later, heading the other way and holding a towel to his bloody nose.

"Oh, fine. Only three weeks back and he's already a delight to be around," Sheppard drawls, sets his shoulders, smirks without humor. He follows Woolsey's nod back towards the transporter, and says nothing until they're seated in his office, watching the gate out of the corner of his eye.

"He's doing better," he begins again. "Physically, he's fine, but the wraith getting into his head, it's screwing with him. Might for a while." He's barely talking to me, and I don't know what to do. Just waiting for some switch to be flipped.

"So you want to keep him grounded for a little while longer?"

"Yes," John nods, feels like a traitor. "Right now, he's pissed off at himself. I put him back in the field, it's going to rub off onto McKay, and maybe even Teyla. We don't need that distraction right now." He's got the fear, and I've seen how it spreads, he amends in his head, but Woolsey doesn't need to hear it.

Sheppard begins to tip back in his chair, stops himself, not wanting to look even more unprofessional than he already feels. "McKay could use the time in the labs, and Teyla and Kanaan are still at the Athosian settlement, and won't be back for a few more days." They're excuses and I know it, but we owe him more than three weeks. "I'd say we give it another week."

"Before he's ready for field missions?"

"Yes." Sheppard drums his fingers on his arm. "And I'd like to keep the rest of the team grounded as much as possible until he's back with us, or until we're actually forced by circumstance to make other arrangements." Woolsey looked askance at this, like he was about to make a suggestion, so Sheppard hurries onward to explain. "Right now, sir, I don't want him seeing us going through the gate without him. It's a trust thing."

"I understand." Woolsey contemplates his tablet for a few moments, pulling up the upcoming rotation schedule. "Is there enough time to redistribute the workload without exhausting the other teams?"

"Yes."

"All right then. You'll let me see the new schedule before you finalize anything?"

"Sure thing," Sheppard begins to stand, hears the gate powering up, probably Lorne's team dialing in. "We good here?"

"One last thing, just something to keep in mind. It may do him some good to talk to someone, other than yourself, about this."

"You think he will?"

"Right now, I think we owe him the chance to decide, don't you?"
---

"Everything's fine on Bavno, nothing to worry about," Lorne says, squinting to the MALP's camera. "But I'm coming through, Sir. Need talk to you for a second about something."

Ten minutes later, Lorne's heading back towards his quarters, Woolsey's satisfied that Sheppard's plan to fill in for the rest of the afternoon, agreeing that no, the rest of the team doesn't need to be notified. Not on such short notice.

Sheppard returns to his quarters to grab a few things, and is just leaving when he runs into Ronon, standing in the hallway like he's waiting.

"Hey, Chewie. What's up?"

"You going offworld?"

"Yeah. Need to take over for Lorne, he's sick."

"Want some backup?"

"Sorry, but this is a solo thing," John curses his timing and pretends not to see the irritation flashing across Ronon's face. This is everything I don't want, he thinks, and wonders if Ronon's able to read it in his face. "Make it up to you when I get back. It'll only be a few hours or so, okay? We'll grab dinner."

It's weak, and he knows it, but he's got things to do, and it's all he can afford right now.
---

Ronon's waiting at the bottom of the steps when John gates back through with Lorne's team. Watches him run through the highlight reel of the trip to Bavno.

John's smirking at Lorne because of some inside joke, some secret. Something Ronon, once, would have been in on, that he doesn't want to see from the outside.

He shifts his shoulder away from the wall he's backed into, because he doesn't need to stand here and see it so plainly, that he fits here even less than he used to, that Sheppard's better off with people he knows he can trust, that trust him.

But John's looking at him like he's reading the thoughts straight out of his head. Like he can see his day's history, his pacing, his thoughts, his anger, and John falters. Takes an abortive step towards him, then away, all over again, but this time, he's only heading for the locker room.

He walks like he knows Ronon's following him. Like he knows Ronon better than Ronon knows himself, and the idea of it wouldn't have rankled, not before all this. Not before Ronon hadn't known how to put himself together again. But then John turns, gives him this look as he's shutting the locker door, like he wants to apologize, like he wants to fix everything, and worse, like he's just figured out how all the pieces fit.

But the bastard won't say anything. Just asks, casually, if he's eaten dinner yet. If he wants to go see the movie they're showing in the lounge, something about constantly gardening. Sounds horrible, especially because he knows John's trying to use it as an excuse. Putting him off, blocking him out, and John looks guilty, like he knows he's doing it too, but doesn't plan on stopping.

But John's still following him, to the mess, through dinner, and now. Back to his room and he's letting the door slide shut behind him and he's stepping close, and maybe he'll finally say something real, but Ronon's not sure what words will even work anymore.
---

"I get it," Ronon finally speaks. "I know I'm not ready to help out on missions."

"Okay," is all John says, like he wishes he didn't agree.

"Just. If you don't, I get it. But I need to know if you trust me, at all."

"I do. That." John steps into his space, swivels his face nearer to Ronon's. "Earlier. It wasn't about trusting you or not trusting you. It was about not getting your hopes up." Because I'm trying to help you, and I know we're fucked right now, and I'm breaking your heart like you're breaking mine, but I won't do it to you twice.

"And now?"

"Do you trust me?"

Ronon scowls across the room, nods, wonders if he's being honest. But John's right there again, his hand is on his jaw, and it's forcing him to look. Forcing him to watch John read him, so focused with concern that Ronon's starting to worry, because John? John shouldn't have to look at anyone this way, like he's trying to figure out if the world's really falling through his fingers.

Ronon can't be the reason for that, and it's the first decision he's making since the last time he died, and something's becoming untwisted, in his gut, in his spine, and he's leaning his head forward, and John's starting to smile back at him, like he's hopeful.

And it feels like they're skipping ahead, like they're missing something, but the thought's lost too soon to notice.

It's the first time in this life that Ronon's kissed anyone, and it feels different than their kisses from a hundred deaths ago, but it's familiar like nothing else.
---

"I've got to go out again today for a few hours," John says quietly as he dresses, because it's too early for this, and too early for louder voices. "But when I get back, we'll get things sorted out."

Ronon nods into the pillow, closes his eyes again, and tries to ignore the dread threading again through his chest. But then John presses a kiss into his jaw, yawns "I love you, go back to sleep," into his ear, and pulls a little of the fear away with him when he leaves.
---

Ronon notices John hovering in the gym doorway, pretends he doesn't until he finishes his last set. "What's up?"

"There's someone you need to meet." John nods towards the door, and with his chin jutting up like that, Ronon almost misses the apprehension in John's eyes as they glance off of him. Almost notices that John doesn't say there's someone I want you to meet. Just grabs his gear and follows him out.

When they approach the lounge, Ronon hears voices inside, people talking, and his name being spoken, but he still can't guess if this is his trial or his sentencing. He feels betrayed, for a moment, like John should have warned him, should have talked to him first. But Ronon isn't sure he has the right to demand anything, not out here. From John, maybe, but not from Sheppard.

Woolsey steps out into the hallway, looking uncomfortable, smiling warily, like he wants to say something, but didn't have time to prepare the notes.

Then John opens the door, and waves Ronon inside.
---

Ronon's first glance finds the target, and he draws his gun before John can realize that it's all gone wrong. Fires before the single questioning word falls from his mouth, and he stares, wild-eyed, at what he's done.

"Mother?"

Right Now #2

sheppard/dex, sga

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