Series: Moments Sacred and Profane

Title: MSP9: A Remote Important Region

Author: Mice

Email: just_us_mice@yahoo.com

Category: Stargate: Atlantis, McKay/Beckett

Warnings: slash, dark angst

Spoilers: Poisoning the Well, Hide & Seek

Rating: NC17

Summary: Rodney finally talks about his past. So does Carson.

Archive: If it's on your list, you can archive it. If it isn't and you'd like it, just let me know were you're putting it.

Feedback: Feed me, Seymour.

Website: Mice's Hole in the Wall http://www.squidge.org/mice

Mirror: http://mice.inkpress.org

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to many other people. But if they were mine, they'd be having very interesting adventures.

Author's Notes: The title is from the poem excerpted at the head of the story. As usual, Abylity is the most amazing beta and story-bouncer ever. Thanks to Jenji for Shep-assist.

~~~

A Remote Important Region

If you don't know the kind of person I am

and I don't know the kind of person you are

a pattern that others made may prevail in the world

and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,

a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break

sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood

storming out to play through the broken dyke.

~~William Stafford, from A Ritual to Read to Each Other~~

***

Sheppard was lying on his couch, aching like he'd been run through a meat grinder. That was actually a lot closer to the truth than he was comfortable with. His last mission had almost been his last and the thought wasn't even funny. He was working, yet again, on 'War and Peace.' At least he'd have some uninterrupted reading time for the next couple of weeks. When the door chime sounded he opened it from where he sat, a little surprised to see McKay walk in, two cups in hand.

"How are you doing?"

Sheppard waved at a chair but McKay came over to him instead. "About as well as can be expected for a guy who's more stitches than body right now."

Rodney eyed the book. "Indulging in heavy lifting against doctor's orders, I see."

Sheppard snorted. "Like you've ever followed doctor's orders."

"Occasionally." Rodney smirked, a twinkle in his eye. Oh, right. That.

"Aside from that."

Rodney handed him one of the cups. "Brought you some coffee. Thought it might be a change from whatever Beckett's got you on. I know you don't share my taste for institutional food."

"Thanks." He sipped at the coffee. It was a close approximation of the way he usually took it. He hadn't realized McKay ever noticed. "Food is kind of a generous descriptor, there."

"I've heard people claim the same for MRE's. Never did understand anyone's objections." McKay sat in the chair.

"Freeze dried shit on a shingle is probably closer to the truth," Sheppard told him, his stomach getting a little twitchy just thinking about it. "I'd kill for a turkey sandwich."

Rodney chuckled. "You won't have to. Ford was planning on smuggling one in for you at dinner."

"Oh, that's good. I think I'm a little off with my Rambo moves today. You don't usually just drop in for social calls, McKay. What's up?"

"The barometric pressure. My sinuses are--"

Sheppard waved a hand at him. "Oh, Jesus, McKay, I don't wanna hear about your sinuses!"

"I can't just come by and visit a recovering friend?" Rodney's arms crossed over his chest.

"Nope." Rodney-annoying was infinitely more fun than 'War and Peace.'

"What kind of cold, heartless bastard do you think I am?"

Sheppard smirked. "The McKay kind."

"Sure, twist the knife." McKay put a hand over his heart, grasping the imaginary blade. "I'll just use it on you later."

Sheppard laughed then groaned. "Damn you, stop that!"

McKay grinned back at him. "Actually, I came to do something I should have a couple of weeks ago.

He tilted his head. "Oh? What's that?"

"Thank you for how you handled the situation with Overton." The smile faded from McKay's face.

Oh man, McKay was going there. "Look, all I did was review the case from my hospital bed and pass sentence."

"It was a good one, considering."

"Dr. Weir had better options," Sheppard admitted. "There's only so much you can do under the UCMJ in these situations. The brig and busting him back to Private was the best I could do."

McKay nodded. "I'm assuming standing him up against a wall and shooting him wasn't on the list." He sounded a little too eager for Sheppard's taste.

"Not for offenses against civilians." He shifted uncomfortably. "Look, McKay, this, um... this thing..."

"What 'thing'?" McKay gave him a peculiar look.

Sheppard shifted again, nervous. "You're... I mean, it's not going to effect our working relationship, right?'

"I can't believe you're asking me that." McKay looked surprised.

Now Sheppard was embarrassed. "Sorry. I just..."

"Major, have I ever made the slightest untoward gesture? Did you even guess before this happened?" McKay leaned forward, hands on his knees. He didn't seem angry, just mildly irritated. That, though, was pretty much Rodney's baseline, so it didn't seem particularly alarming.

"Well, no."

"Did it ever occur to you that you might not be my type?"

Actually, it hadn't. "Uh--"

"You think because a guy is interested in other guys he's interested in all of them?"

"Well--"

"Or that bisexuals, as I've so often had rubbed in my face, are allegedly unable to keep it in their pants?" Okay, so now McKay was working up a little steam.

"Wait a minute there, McKay! I never said anything of the sort." The conversation had taken a sharp turn toward the disconcerting on an entirely new level. He was used to being appreciated, and McKay... didn't.

"It sure seemed like you were implying it. As though I'm suddenly some kind of sexual predator." McKay's eyes were narrow and angry. "What, are you gonna refuse to leave me unsupervised with Ford and Teyla now?"

"Look, Rodney, you're my friend okay? That's not going to change. There's nothing wrong with *you.* It's just that I'm a little uncomfortable. Maybe that's something wrong with *me.*"

"I guess I'm still a little tetchy about it," McKay said. He leaned back, less tense.

"Understandable, considering the circumstances." Sheppard sighed and relaxed. That was one potential disaster cut off at the pass.

"I, uh, didn't take it well when Carson was attacked. Or the others." McKay shifted nervously.

He nodded. He'd have done something similar if a girlfriend had been attacked, really, though he had a very hard time seeing Beckett in those terms. The doctor wasn't even vaguely feminine. "Yeah, I wouldn't either." He paused for a moment. "So you don't think I'm hot?"

McKay laughed. "I think I can restrain myself." He rolled his eyes.

Sheppard, much to his surprise, wasn't sure whether he found that more a relief or an affront. "Oh."

"I can deal with the fact that you feel a little uncomfortable with this," McKay said. "It's okay, really. Understandable even. I guess after how you reacted to Overton, I didn't think it would bother you."

"It shouldn't, Rodney, and I'm sorry. I just need to work on it, okay?" He offered an apologetic smile.

"Okay," McKay said. "If you're all right with it, I might even drop by tomorrow. I'm sure you'll be needing more coffee at some point."

"Yeah. A little less sugar next time, would you? And maybe a donut if you can find one!" Sheppard grinned at him as he left. Okay, he could deal with this. Really.

***

Carson had just got home for the evening when Rodney came by. He hadn't been expecting to see him tonight. They'd not made any plans earlier in the day, though it certainly wasn't unwelcome.

Rodney swept past him on the way in and sat on the couch.

"What brings you, Rodney? I thought you were going to spend the night at home?" He went to sit next to Rodney.

"I just..." Rodney sighed and slumped. "I wanted to talk, I guess."

This piqued Carson's curiosity. "About what?" He laid a hand on Rodney's thigh.

Rodney covered it with his own. "Went to see Sheppard today." He seemed reluctant to say more.

"And what of it? Was he comfortable when you saw him? Did he need anything?"

"Depends on how you define comfortable," Rodney said, a strange expression on his face.

He let his thumb move gently on Rodney's leg. "You could be a little more specific, luv."

"He doesn't seem comfortable with me. He says it's just him and that he'll work on it, but he asked me if our work relationship would change now that he knows." There was disappointment in Rodney's eyes.

Carson slid an arm around Rodney. "I'm sorry."

"I couldn't believe it, Carson. He had the gall to ask me if I thought he was hot."

Carson couldn't help a snicker at that. "I assume he wasn't asking if he had a fever."

Rodney gave him a sour look. "I think he'd have hit the ceiling if I touched him."

"I thought, from what he did, that he's on our side?" Carson moved a wee bit closer to Rodney. If the Major was a more reluctant ally than they'd assumed, it could be trouble. Perhaps Rodney was beginning to rub off on him more than he'd realized. His life had got more complicated since they'd been outed. People he'd thought were friends had been treating him differently. Like Carol Bentz, some of them had been people he'd trusted. Now he wasn't sure who to trust.

Except Rodney -- for all his faults, Rodney could be trusted. He hoped Sheppard and Weir still could as well. For Rodney's sake, he hoped that list included Ford. Teyla he had no doubts about. There were no cultural reasons for her to be even mildly uncomfortable. She'd watch Rodney's back.

Rodney nodded, silent for a few moments. "He is. He's just not coping with it very well yet. Getting past the theory part of supporting us to actually knowing one of his team members is queer seems to be a bit of a challenge for him. I think he'll be all right, though. I mean Elizabeth's acting the same way, though she's more honest about it. I think with her it's probably more that it's us than that either of us is with another man."

Carson nodded. "A bit awkward for her, I suppose, having two of her division heads in such a situation. She probably thinks it's more likely we'd conspire behind her back if we disagreed with her."

"Politics. That I can actually understand," Rodney said. "It's a reasonable fear on her part." He laughed. "Not that we wouldn't do it even if we weren't involved."

Carson grinned. "There is that. But she'd have a better chance to hear of it before we sprung it on her if it wasn't pillow talk."

"There are moments when seeing you on a pillow is all I can think about," Rodney said, his voice low and seductive. "Rare," he added, teasing, "but it happens."

Carson chuckled and shook his head. "You're such a romantic. Next it'll be heart-shaped boxes of jelly babies."

"Tom Baker," Rodney said, eyes alight. "My favorite Doctor."

"And here I thought I was." He poked Rodney with his elbow. "I rather favored Jon Pertwee myself. There was a Doctor with some class. Davison wasn't a bad chap either. Now, what was this about pillows?"

"You." Rodney leaned in toward him. "Pillows." He kissed Carson hard and deep, taking him into his arms and holding him tight. They were both panting when they parted. "Yeah."

It was a bit dizzying, and he loved it when Rodney kissed him like that. Carson sighed happily, nuzzling against his face with closed eyes. "Does that mean you'll be staying tonight?"

"Would you mind?"

Carson snorted. "Would I mind, he asks. You're daft, Rodney." He rested his chin on Rodney's shoulder. "You're always welcome to share my bed," he said quietly. "And my pillow."

***

Carson woke early with the sun through his window, though he didn't have to, it being Saturday and all. Rodney was still sleeping, quiet under his arm, back curled against his chest. His hair was going in all directions, looking for all the world like some terrier, his face soft and peaceful, the familiar crooked mouth relaxed. The rightness of it all warmed Carson through and he smiled. Just waking like this was a blessing.

He hadn't made any plans, hoping to just drift a little for once. Plans he made tended to explode, even on his days off, what with Gate expeditions always going on. He found it better not to anticipate having an actual holiday from work.

Rodney was likely to be off to his lab despite the weekend. It seemed nothing could really keep him from his fascination with shiny Ancient toys, particularly when he wouldn't be heading through the Gate anytime soon. Not until Sheppard was released for missions, at least. That would be a few weeks.

Rodney shifted and turned and yawned, starting to wake, and Carson ran a hand over his chest. It felt good. Rodney made a satisfied, sleepy sound then cracked his eyes open a little.

"Mrn'n."

Carson smiled. "Morning. You really should wake up before you try to speak, luv. Vowels are useful."

Rodney moaned. "Carson, you're a dick." He rubbed his eyes with one palm.

"That's better. You sound a little less Welsh now." Carson chuckled to himself.

Rodney muttered something unintelligible and rolled to face Carson. Nose to nose, he looked in Carson's eyes. "You can't harass me before I have my coffee. It's against the rules." He kissed Carson.

"Well," Carson said afterward, "I didn't know we had that rule. Do we have rules?"

"That you won't have sex with me until I talk."

Carson shifted. "That's not really a rule, per se. It's more of a protection for both of us."

Rodney nodded. "I know. But still. I think no harassment before coffee should definitely be a rule."

"And what happens when we run out of coffee, then? Do I have to never harass you?" Carson smirked.

Rodney's eyebrows went up. "If I have to find arabica trees myself, we will *not* run out of coffee!" Carson laughed. "See? You're harassing me again. And I still don't see any coffee." Carson gave up, still laughing, and hugged him. Rodney returned the embrace. "Don't think I'm letting this go until I have my morning caffeine, Carson," Rodney said.

"Can you wait a little before we go off for breakfast?" Carson asked. "I'd really rather stay here with you for a bit. It's not often we have time in the morning to just relax."

Rodney was smiling now. "Yeah, you're right. Relaxing is good." He kissed Carson again. "That's even better, though."

Carson could find no argument with that.

***

Rodney had taken Sheppard the coffee he'd promised, and got roped into walking with him for a little while. Carson had insisted that though the Major was supposed to rest as much as possible, he also had to get up at least once a day and walk -- and that it should be further than just to the bathroom and back.

They were headed for the mess hall. Rodney thought it was probably a little far for the man, considering the shape he was in, but Sheppard had insisted. He was leaning on Rodney already. At least it seemed like Sheppard had gotten past the 'cooties' stage of coping.

"Come on, Major, let's get you into a chair," Rodney said, helping Sheppard ease down. Ford was at their side almost immediately.

"Let me get breakfast for you, Sir," Ford said.

Sheppard grinned at him. "Thanks, Aiden. And it's not sir when I'm not in uniform."

Ford chuckled. "Right, Sir." He hurried off for the chow line.

"I've already had mine," Rodney said, "but I could always go for a snack." A quiet murmur passed around the room, and Rodney looked up to see what was happening. Osbourne was entering, Zelenka moving very slowly beside him. Geoff's arm was firmly around Radek and he was speaking softly to him. Radek nodded and gestured toward the nearest chair.

"I'll be back in a minute," Rodney said. "I need to go see Zelenka." He paused a moment. "Remember, John, what you've done will help prevent something like that happening again." He waved a hand toward Zelenka and Sheppard looked.

"Damn. I didn't realize he'd look that bad." Sheppard seemed shaken by the sight. "It's been a couple of weeks already."

"He was more severely injured than Carson was in the fire." Rodney's voice was soft and hesitant. He didn't like remembering or mentioning Carson's experience, or his own. "Concussions are really nasty, and he was in a coma for a couple of days, unlike Carson."

Sheppard nodded, silent.

Rodney got up and went over to them. There was already a small crowd gathering. This was the first time Zelenka had been out of his quarters since he'd been released from the infirmary. Osbourne hadn't let anyone in to visit, saying Radek had been too exhausted for company. He'd probably been right. He was currently shooing most of the gathering group away, albeit rather gently.

"Hey," Rodney said. Osbourne looked up at him.

"Rodney." He gestured to a chair. "Have a seat."

Zelenka looked up at him and offered a hand. Rodney took it and squeezed gently, then let go. "How are you feeling?" He looked exhausted and in pain.

"Not well," Zelenka said. "Geoff is making me insane." He looked up at Osbourne. "It's not like I would not like a visitor now and then."

Osbourne looked defensive. This was obviously an ongoing argument. "I want you to get well, Radek. You've been too tired until today."

"I think I should be the judge of that. Carson put no restrictions on visitors that I recall." Zelenka spoke a little more slowly than he normally did, but Rodney expected that. The vehemence was unusual though.

Osbourne started into it again. "Radek, please--"

Rodney held up his hands. "There's no need to argue about it right now, guys." He put a hand on Osbourne's shoulder. "Give him a little space, Geoff. Carson was miserable and bitched at me a lot when he was going through this, and Radek is in the same kind of shape. Let him be for a while."

Zelenka looked slightly surprised. So did Osbourne, for that matter. "Thank you, Rodney," Zelenka said. Osbourne huffed and nodded, relaxing a little.

"I'm sorry, Radek," Geoff said. "I have been hovering too much lately."

Zelenka nodded. "Yes, you have, milacku." He palmed Geoff's face, stroking a thumb along the edge of his mustache. "I know you only want to help, but sometimes, is a little too much." Geoff nodded.

Radek looked back up at Rodney. "Come see me later. You can tell me what's going on in the lab. And please, bring me something to do -- you cannot imagine how bored I am!"

"I'll do that," Rodney said with a smile. "I just wanted to see how you're doing. Take it easy, okay?"

Zelenka nodded. "I will, don't worry."

He patted Zelenka's shoulder gently and went back to see Sheppard.

"How is he?" Sheppard asked. He put a hand on Rodney's wrist. Leaning one elbow on the table, he looked painfully uncomfortable. Ford was sitting beside him, scarfing down his own breakfast like he hadn't eaten in a week. Rodney wondered where it all went in the skinny young Marine.

"Not great, but considering he was in a coma, I'd say this is pretty damned good." Rodney leaned on the table with a sigh. It reminded him far too much of when Carson had been hurt. Sheppard's hand moved to his shoulder.

"You okay?" Ford asked.

Rodney nodded, not saying anything. He looked up at Ford.

"I'm not sure you look okay." Ford was staring at him.

Rodney glared back. "Why thank you, Lieutenant. How delightful to be reminded that my side is still sore and it shows." The bullet wound actually only bothered him a little and hadn't been a problem for a day or so; it was just a diversion.

Ford frowned and shook his head. "Sorry. I thought maybe you were upset because Dr. Zelenka was reminding you about what happened with the doc before." Sheppard shifted his chair a little closer to Rodney's. He leaned an arm along the back of Rodney's chair.

Rodney froze. Damn, why did the kid have to hit the bullseye like that? He started getting up. "I think I'll be--"

Sheppard grabbed his arm. "You're not going anywhere just yet. I still need you to help me get back to my room."

He tried to brush Sheppard off. "Ford can help you."

Sheppard refused to let go. "Nope. You got me out here, you're getting me back home." Sheppard's gaze held his for a little too long.

Rodney sighed and sat. Sheppard's arm slipped from the back of the chair to Rodney's shoulder. His hand hung loosely, brushing against Rodney's arm. "Whatever."

He grabbed a blueberry muffin -- he'd made sure there was no lemon in these -- and another cup of coffee and sat while Sheppard finished eating, listening silently as he and Ford talked. He didn't respond to any of their jibes. Occasionally, Sheppard would reach out and touch Rodney's hand or his wrist, drawing his attention back to the conversation.

In the hallway, Sheppard leaned on him as they walked. He was quiet for a few minutes but then asked, "Why are you so upset about what Ford said?"

His first instinct was to snap, but Sheppard wasn't really in any shape to deal with it. Funny how he'd started thinking about that kind of thing since he'd been seeing Carson. "I just don't want to think about it. I don't want to remember it."

Sheppard nodded. "Yeah, that's kind of what I guessed. Beckett's okay Rodney. Nobody's gonna hurt him again."

"You don't know that," Rodney snarled. "He didn't think he was going to get hurt when this happened to Zelenka, either. He's too stupidly fucking optimistic for his own good."

"Hey, easy McKay. I'm not your enemy." Sheppard stopped walking, and since he was leaning on Rodney, Rodney had to stop as well. He looked Rodney in the eye. "Beckett's not an idiot. He's just a little more trusting than most."

"He's an idiot to trust anyone around here." Seeing Zelenka had struck a core of fear and rage Rodney had been trying to keep down since the sentencing. "How could he--"

"McKay." Sheppard took him by both shoulders. His gaze was intense. "Stand down. It's not going to happen again."

Sheppard was probably right. They'd still get the comments and the looks, but it was exceedingly unlikely anyone would try violence again and risk being shipped off to the mainland alone for a year. He took a deep breath and collected himself. "Let's get you back to your place. I have things to do."

***

Rodney was pensive and nervous when Carson found him at dinner, lost in thought but twitchy. He set his tray down on the table next to Rodney's and sat with him. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Do you guys even have pennies in Scotland?" Rodney looked up, still seeming disturbed.

"When we're not using Euros," Carson replied. "You seem a bit preoccupied."

Rodney sighed and nodded, then took a sip of his coffee. With a disgusted look, he glared at it. "Ugh. It's cold. I'll be right back." Cup in hand he hurried off to the table with the coffee pots. A moment later he returned. "That's better."

"You must be distracted if you're letting that stuff get cold." He tried to figure out what dinner was. It looked like something Athosian. He poked at it with his fork then tried it. It was much better than MRE's. Somehow he doubted Rodney would agree. There wasn't much institutional about it.

"It's nothing," Rodney said.

Carson looked at him. "Oh, don't even ask me to believe that. What's wrong?" Rodney just stared into his coffee. This wasn't good. Rodney *always* had something to say. He waited a little while, to see if Rodney would speak, but Rodney only kept looking over at him every so often. It was almost like he was checking to make sure he was still there.

Carson finished his dinner. "If you won't talk to me here, would you talk to me elsewhere?'

Rodney's face pinched a little, then he looked at Carson again. "Yeah. My place would do, I guess."

It wasn't long before they were at Rodney's quarters, sitting on his couch. Rodney sat on the far end, away from Carson.

"What's happening, Rodney? You've not been like this for a while now."

"I've been thinking too much." He shifted and crossed his arms protectively over his chest.

"What about, then?" Carson tried to move closer, but Rodney shook his head, so he stayed put.

"Zelenka. You. Some of the things you want me to talk about." Rodney's blue eyes were shadowed, uncomfortable.

He'd heard Zelenka had been out to the mess hall early in the day, and that Rodney had spoken to him. "Radek's doing well, Rodney. He's in no danger, and he's recovering nicely now."

Rodney nodded. "I know. It's just... I guess it reminded me too much of how you've been until recently."

That made sense. "It's all right, mo leannan. I'm fine now, really." Carson reached out but was again rebuffed. There was definitely more going on here than just Zelenka's recovery and Rodney being uneasy about the injury he'd had in the fire. "Tell me what else is bothering you."

"I'm not sure I can tell you about this all at once," Rodney said, and took a deep breath. "There's just... there's too much of it, okay?"

Carson nodded. He wanted very much to sit closer to Rodney, to touch him, but he knew right now it wouldn't be welcome. He'd just be pushed away again, and if he kept trying, he'd make Rodney even more reluctant to speak. "Whatever you need," he said. "Just say what you can. We have time enough."

Rodney shifted again, leaning forward a bit, elbows on his knees now. He looked down at the floor. "I don't know what to do around you, Carson."

Carson started to say something but Rodney stopped him. "No. Just... just let me talk. This is hard enough already."

Carson nodded. "All right."

Rodney continued, eyes on the floor again. "I don't know how to handle this... this... whatever it is we have. Nobody's ever treated me the way you do. I keep expecting to wake up and none of it's real, or you'll wake up and realize you're making some huge mistake, and it'll all be over."

"No," Carson said softly. "It's not like that."

Rodney looked up at him again. "Part of me knows that, but the rest of me still isn't sure. It's not your fault, okay? I've never felt like this before, and sometimes it's all just moving too fast. It's not that I can't adapt to change, it's that this isn't about intelligence or numbers or logic. I'm too far outside my field. There aren't any landmarks for me here."

He waited for Rodney to continue and nodded, settling back on the couch. That seemed to relax Rodney a bit.

"I didn't want to love you," Rodney whispered. Carson bit his tongue, not wanting to interrupt but desperately tempted. The thought that Rodney hadn't wanted to love him hurt. His fingers clenched into a fist as he listened, nails digging into his palm.

"I've... I've never loved anyone before. I never wanted to." Rodney's voice was still soft, shaking a little. "Hell, I've never even been able to spend a whole night in anyone else's bed without freaking on them, until I met you. It's a big part of why I've never been with anyone more than once."

Carson was astonished. He'd had no idea. He knew Rodney hadn't been with anyone more than once before, but that he'd never been able to spend the night with someone? It was inconceivable.

"All the evidence suggests that nobody's ever loved me before, either," Rodney continued. "So you can imagine that this is a very strange experience for me."

"I do love you," Carson said quietly, leaning toward Rodney. God, how many ways could the man break his heart? Just saying the words was taking so much out of his lover, and he deserved so much better.

Rodney nodded. "I know." He seemed shaken, and it took him a few moments to compose himself before he started speaking again. "This is really hard for me. I've never told anyone what I'm trying to tell you. It's all so hard to think about, much less to... to say out loud."

Carson reached out, offering a hand, and Rodney took it. "I'm here, mo leannan. I'm not going anywhere."

Rodney nodded and took another deep breath. "My parents, they hated each other. Fought constantly. They blamed me for all of it. I'd ruined their ideal lives by being born. They already had the child they wanted. I came along and messed up all their plans." He looked away, letting go of Carson's hand.

"I don't really blame my sister for it anymore," he said. "We've never been close, but she at least didn't hate me. She couldn't help what our parents did." Pain poured from Rodney's voice, his body stiff and shaking. "The only thing they ever really seemed to value about me was the fact I was intelligent. Freakishly so, according to them, but at least they thought I might come to something because of it. I wasn't normal enough for them, ever."

He paused, catching his breath. Carson was worried, as Rodney had begun to sweat. "Music was an escape for me. I always wanted to be a pianist. The idea of being up on stage, under the lights, playing music that moved people, doing something they'd care about, it was what I lived to do."

Carson nodded. "Aye, you said so a few days ago." He wasn't sure what the music had to do with it, but it seemed far more than had just been said.

Rodney looked at him, fear in his eyes. "No, Carson. You have no idea. What I told you the other day, what I just said, it's just the surface."

"What happened, then?"

"You asked me a while ago if... if I'd been..." He swallowed, unable to continue.

"If you'd been raped." Carson whispered it.

Rodney nodded. "Yeah, that. I was." His face crumbled and he looked quickly away. "I'm sorry, I just... I can't talk any more about it right now."

"Rodney?" Carson moved close, put a hand on Rodney's cheek.

"No. Please, Carson, just go. I can't do this right now. I need more time." He waved Carson's hand away, a note of panic in his voice.

Carson got up and crouched on one knee in front of Rodney, hands on his knees. "I want to help, luv. Don't push me away."

"T-tomorrow, okay?" Rodney motioned at the door, and it opened. "I swear, tomorrow. Just go."

Carson could tell Rodney was holding back a powerful wave of emotion. If he pushed, he might get to the bottom of it now, but he risked hurting his lover badly. He stayed where he was. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Rodney hissed. Carson caught the flicker of light on tears starting to form.

"I'll go then," he said softly, "but if you want to talk later, or if you need me for anything -- anything at all -- I want you to let me know. I'll come to you, or you can come to see me, all right?"

Rodney nodded and gave his shoulder a push. Carson rose reluctantly and left.

***

Sunday afternoon, Rodney ended up out on one of the sunny balconies with Sheppard. Though Ford and Teyla had visited the Major earlier in the day, it was Rodney he'd asked to accompany him.

"You could have taken the opportunity earlier," Rodney told him.

Sheppard shrugged. He was moving a little more easily than yesterday. "Wasn't in the mood to go out until you got here, I guess. The afternoon sun's warmer anyway." Despite what seemed to be easier movement, Sheppard still leaned a bit on Rodney much of the way to the balcony.

They stared out over the water for a long time, Rodney sitting in silence. Eventually, Sheppard shifted a little closer, legs spread, his knee resting casually against Rodney's. "How's Zelenka doing today?"

Rodney sighed. "Not much difference. It'll take a while for him to get over being tired and moving slow. Carson... Carson did too." He'd been so worried about Carson, especially when he wasn't able to speak English. He'd tried not to let anyone know just how freaked he'd been about that. Much as Siwicki was okay, he hadn't wanted to discuss anything private with Carson through a translator. It had been difficult.

"Sorry," Sheppard said. He rested a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "I didn't realize then how hard that must have been on you." Sheppard's fingers moved gently in tiny, almost subconscious strokes. Rodney gave the hand an odd look, but didn't comment. "How's it going for you two?"

"I'm surprised you'd even want to know," Rodney said. "Doesn't that qualify as 'way too much information'?"

Sheppard made a face. "Hey, I'm not asking what you two do in bed, okay? I'm just still trying to figure the whole thing out. What a guy sees in another guy, you know?"

"It's not like you're interested. Why would you even care?"

"Just curious. I don't get it. I want to understand. Suddenly I have all these people on the station who came out, and it's a little weird for me, okay?" Sheppard shrugged, looking into his eyes and just watching. It was a little disconcerting.

Rodney nodded. He could sort of see where Sheppard was coming from. At least he was willing to try. "We're doing okay," he said, cautious. "As to what a guy might see in another guy, well, that really depends on the people involved. Same as what a guy might see in a woman -- except they're not usually looking for exactly same things. Tits on a guy are kind of poor form, you know?"

Sheppard laughed. "Oh, man, I so don't wanna go there!"

Rodney grinned. Sheppard's hand tightened on his shoulder. "I don't blame you. I don't want to go there either."

"But really, I mean, what is it you see in Beckett?"

Rodney looked away, Sheppard's gaze suddenly uncomfortable. "A lot of things," he said quietly.

"Well, like what?"

Rodney hesitated. "I don't think you'd understand, Major."

"Oh, come on," Sheppard teased, wheedling him for more. God, it was that stupid puppy-eyed look again. Damned bastard was trying to be *cute* and it so wasn't working on Rodney. Now, if Carson pulled it, he'd be sunk, but Carson wasn't the type to try.

"Stop it," Rodney snapped. "It's private."

Sheppard's face quirked into a wry smile. "How the hell am I supposed to understand this if nobody'll tell me?"

Rodney looked him in the eye with a hard stare. "And just what do you look for in the women you go out with?"

That took Sheppard aback. "Um... well..."

"Come on, Major, you want me to talk. How do you feel in the hot seat?"

"Well..." Sheppard paused. "I mean, obviously physical attributes come into it." He gestured near his chest.

"Aside from the obvious," Rodney sneered. Sheppard's hands found the bench, the edge of one brushing against Rodney's hip. It was probably just the most comfortable place for Sheppard's hand to rest to support his tired weight, though it seemed awfully close.

"Ummm... decent conversation? Some common interests? Potential to get laid?"

Rodney chuckled. "It's not so different, you know. Not in that kind of thing anyway."

"Oh, man, I told you I don't wanna go there. Let's not talk about your potential to get laid by Beckett. I *so* don't want to think about that!" Sheppard blushed.

"Hey, you started this." Rodney grinned evilly. This was better. He had some control here, and Sheppard was off-balance.

"Forget it, McKay. Forget I said anything." Sheppard's hand was on his wrist.

"You think I'm gonna let you off that easy?"

Sheppard cringed. "Come on, Rodney, spare me the x-rated blow by blow." He blushed more deeply, realizing what he'd just said. "Uh, forget I said that."

"You just keep digging yourself deeper," Rodney said, laughing. "And believe me, I wouldn't tell you if you begged me." Because there was nothing to tell, though he wasn't about to allow Sheppard to even imagine that. A man had to have some dignity. Rodney stood. "I think it's about time you got back to your place."

Sheppard groaned. "It's nice out. I want to sit here for a while longer." He tugged on Rodney's wrist, eyes never leaving Rodney's.

"I have things to do. If you wanted to be out here all afternoon, you should have asked someone who wasn't as busy as I am." Rodney smiled as he reiterated his own importance to the functioning of Atlantis. "I have reports to review, assignments to draw up for the next month, brilliant plans to come up with."

"It's Sunday, Rodney. Take a load off." He tugged again.

Rodney shook his head and tugged at Sheppard, urging him to his feet. "Come on, John. If you want a babysitter, get somebody else."

Sheppard made an 'aw, mom' noise but rose reluctantly. His arm was around Rodney's shoulder before they got ten feet. Rodney knew he wasn't that badly off. He filed it away with the other odd behavior he'd seen this afternoon. Maybe it would make sense later. Sheppard had been in his personal space a lot in the last couple of days. Maybe it was just some strange manifestation of his attempt to get comfortable with the sudden and obvious queer presence on Atlantis.

There were stranger ways to cope, Rodney thought.

***

When Rodney didn't come by Carson's place that evening, Carson went to him. Rodney, however, wasn't in a mood to talk about what they'd addressed the previous night. He did want company though, at least for a while, and so Carson stayed until late. They talked about safe things -- work, a little gossip, and a debate (though Rodney called it an argument) about the possible origins of the Wraith.

He slept alone that night and wished he didn't have to.

Mondays had never particularly bothered Carson. He enjoyed his work. Treating patients was only part of what he did. Genetic research was a large part of it and, increasingly, work on Wraith xenobiology. He spent a good deal of time when people weren't hurt -- which was actually most of the time, if he told the truth -- puttering about with mice and specimen slides.

When Barry Gates, one of the maintenance folk, came in that afternoon after breaking a leg in a fall, Carson was there to deal with it, as always. Unfortunately, Gates' reaction was nothing even vaguely akin to ordinary.

It started with a difficult attitude and worked its way up to a refusal of treatment from Carson. When the words "fucking faggot" left the man's mouth, Carson called Carol Bentz in to deal with him, angry with both of them.

To her credit, Bentz had tried to apologize several times in the weeks since the attacks, but Carson had been too angry over Zelenka's injuries to accept the olive branch. He knew he'd have to get over the betrayal eventually, but Gates' attitude and her subsequent apology only served to aggravate Carson further.

By the time he saw Rodney, he barely had his temper under control.

"I don't know why he was makin' such a noise about it," Carson insisted as he sat. "It's not like I was going to do anything at all to him but set his leg!"

Rodney leaned back in his chair, ignoring Carson's anger. "You knew that being out would have repercussions. It's not just about violence Carson, it's about human stupidity and prejudice. I told you, this was why I didn't want to be out in the first place."

"I know, bugger it all to hell!" Carson shouted. People looked around. He took a deep breath, embarrassed at his outburst, and tried to calm down. In a quieter tone of voice, he continued. "But that doesn't mean I don't wish people were better than they sometimes are."

Rodney shook his head. "That kind of attitude'll never get you anywhere. You have to expect people to be shits. Once in a while, if they're not, you can act pleasantly surprised."

Carson snorted and leaned on the table. "Well that's right cynical of you, Rodney."

"Cynical's my middle name. I thought you knew that." His mouth quirked into that crooked, sardonic grin again. Carson shuffled his food around on his plate, not able to eat.

"I thought it was--"

Rodney grabbed his wrist. "Hey, not in front of anybody, damn it. It's embarrassing."

That got a chuckle out of Carson. "Ah, blackmail material for later."

"You? Blackmail? Perish the thought." Rodney didn't even attempt to sound innocent. "And if you ever even consider whispering it in my ear in bed, I'll send Ford after you."

Carson smiled. "That nice lad? I doubt that's much of a threat." He was glad he'd met Rodney rather than retreating to his quarters, as he'd considered. The banter was lifting his foul mood.

"You've never seen him gunning for the bad guys."

Carson shook his head. "No, and god forbid I should ever have to." His stomach was settling a little now that his anger was fading. He was still upset about what had happened, but perspective helped. He really should bring himself to talk to Carol about her lapse of confidentiality, he thought. They still had to work together, and more than two weeks was a very long time for him to be holding a grudge -- even a well-justified one.

"I haven't seen you angry often, Carson," Rodney said. He rested a hand on Carson's arm, sipping at the coffee in his other hand.

"No. It's not my habit. I'm sorry I've inflicted it on you."

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing. You should do it a little more often, actually. Just make sure to point it at somebody other than me." Rodney grinned.

"I'm thinking the Hoffans might not be a bad target." He grimaced.

"Considering how they used you, you're probably right."

It had been a terrible time for Carson, when he saw the result of all his hard work leading to the death of hundreds of thousands. "I can't put it out of my mind. It still rides me some nights."

"It's not your fault."

Carson shook his head. "It's hard to look at what I did and not think so."

"You fought them at every turn as soon as you realized what was happening." Rodney's face was sympathetic.

"Not that it did any good, did it?" The bitterness ate at his stomach, worse than the anger.

Rodney's hand tightened on his arm, his voice vehement. "You didn't have a say in how the entire fucking planet voted. They made that decision, you didn't."

"But I made it possible." He wanted to crawl under a rock.

"Look," Rodney said, "I'm done eating and it doesn't seem like you're going to. Let's get out of here. You need something else to think about."

Carson looked at his plate. He'd barely eaten anything. He looked up at Rodney, who tugged at his arm. "Aye, you're right then. I do. Is anything happening tonight?"

"De Lancie's playing some blues in that room over by hydroponics: the one with the great acoustics." Rodney smiled at him. "That's got to be better than this."

Carson smiled back, still half buried in his mood. "That does sound good."

Cpl. Jackson De Lancie, Rob Stackhouse's lover, was from New Orleans. He played some of the best Delta blues Carson had ever heard, with a voice strong and smoky as a good dram of 30 year Glenfiddich. His battered old acoustic guitar had seen better days, but its tone was sweet and true. He blew a mean blues harp as well, as the Yanks said, and had a couple in different keys resting in a glass of water next to him, keeping the reeds supple.

The times he'd heard the man had always left him wanting more, and the blues suited his mood while giving him reason to feel better. There were almost 20 people there, enjoying the concert and tipping pints of some kind of Athosian alcohol that, while no Black Cuillin, was vaguely reminiscent of dark ale. Carson didn't indulge, though he was a bit tempted. The last thing he wanted was to be a maudlin drunk, and it was likely after the day he'd had.

Tonight's performance was a mix of different blues styles, from what he could tell. Blues weren't his expertise, by any means, though Jackson talked about it sometimes on Thursdays. They sat in the back corner of the room, Rodney wrapped around him humming along with the tunes he knew. Despite Rodney's claims regarding his lack of musical talent, he had a good voice. Carson knew it from his shower singing, but this just reinforced the knowledge. He was a little surprised when Rodney joined in quietly, but his voice was rough and moody as the lyrics themselves.

Carson hummed along too, eyes closed, leaning back against Rodney's strength. They spent about two hours listening to the music before Jackson decided to break for the night.

"Gotta work in the mornin' just like y'all," Jackson said. "Next time, somebody else gets to play." He grinned and packed up, Stackhouse helping, neither of them visibly betraying their relationship. Both of them being military, it would make their lives hell.

They wandered the room for a few minutes, saying goodnight to people, and Rodney invited Carson back to his quarters. "We still need to talk," he said, "and I sort of skipped out on it last night."

Carson nodded, wondering if he'd be strong enough for what was sure to come, but his mood was substantially better than it had been at dinner. "All right then," he said. "We can talk. Are you sure you're wanting to do this tonight?"

"If I don't," Rodney said, "I'll lose my nerve and never say anything. You've made it clear that nothing else happens between us until I do." There was a nervous tone to Rodney's voice, and he looked about as they talked, watching for anyone close enough to overhear. There was no one around. "I'd rather not talk about it, but I-I want more than what we have." He moved closer until they were walking with shoulders touching. "I want to be with you."

"And I with you," Carson said, chest tightening. "You're not alone in that."

"So you see my dilemma."

Carson nodded. Rodney took his hand and they walked silently through the quiet corridors until they got to Rodney's.

They both fussed and fidgeted for a while, irritating each other, trying to get comfortable for what was sure to be an exceedingly uncomfortable conversation. As usual, they ended up on the couch, but Carson refused to sit at the opposite end.

"Zelenka's looking a little better," Rodney said absently. He refused to look at Carson.

"He is," Carson agreed. He shifted his weight awkwardly, trying to relax.

"Sheppard's been acting weird the past few days." Rodney looked over at him, confused.

Carson tilted his head. "Oh? How so?"

"I can't really put my finger on it, just... weird. It's like he's been in my personal space a lot more than usual. I don't get it." He shrugged.

"I've no idea why he might be doing that," Carson said. "What would be the point?"

"That's what I want to know." Rodney sighed and cupped his chin in one hand. "I can't figure it out and it's driving me nuts."

Carson slid closer to Rodney. "Well, at least I've got a reason to be near you." He smiled and Rodney smiled back, though it was a faint one.

"I like it when you're nearby. John just confuses me." The small smile faded. "Everything's so fucked up lately I don't know what to think anymore."

"Me either," Carson said with a sigh. "After Gates this afternoon, I'm wondering how much more trouble I'm like to have at work."

Rodney looked him in the eyes. "They'll get over it."

"I'm not so sure," Carson said quietly. "What if things only get worse?"

"Now you're starting to sound like me." The faint smile was back again.

Carson snorted softly. "I thought that's what you wanted -- that I should be as cynical as you."

Surprise crossed Rodney's face. He reached out and caressed Carson's cheek. "No, not really." His thumb traced the line of Carson's cheekbone. "Careful, yes; cynical, no. It's... most of the time I'm glad you're not. I guess I just worry about you, about ho