Chapter Text
The heartache of Rodney's second-childhood wasn't that he'd forgotten almost everything. It was that once the parasite had been removed and destroyed, Rodney carried the weight of each memory with him. From the beginning, when Keller recorded him reciting pi to twelve places, to his worst, when he barely recognized his sister when she came to him from Earth. Throughout his entire life, people were often awed by Rodney's memory. But as each thought played over and over in his head as Rodney tried to get to sleep, his feat of memory felt more like a curse than a blessing.
But the one thing that stood out to him the most was his memories of John. Rodney knew John was a close friend; had been ever since he let John push him over the balcony soon after stepping foot on Atlantis. But when all else had failed his memory, the one thing that remained was John. He was a constant in Rodney's life - good and bad.
Rodney sat up and wiped the frustration from his face. He thought the lights up 18%, which was enough to let him read, but not cause unnecessary stimulation and keep him up too late once he was tired enough to get back to sleep. He glanced around, wondering where his latest journal was; it was actually Jeannie's, but he'd swiped it from her because his list of periodicals had been on backlog due to delivery issues with Stargate Command. He finally spotted it on a nearby chair, then got up to grab it.
A momentarily sense of imbalance had him grasping at the back of the chair. Keller had warned it was a side effect of having a creature roaming around his brain for weeks. When he once again found his balance, he reached down and grabbed the journal, when something caught his eye.
John's jacket.
He'd never given it back to John after that night. They'd had beer on the pier. As the memories flooded back to him, so did the angst and the hurt. No matter what, John had been there for him. And as the evidence of that night - when he'd made light of his memory loss by calling John "Arthur" - sat crumpled on the floor behind his chair, the emotions overtook Rodney. With the journal now abandoned, Rodney sat down in the chair and pulled the jacket to his chest, inhaling the scent of leather, of the sea breeze, of John.
Before he could rethink it, Rodney was out of his quarters and walking towards Sheppards with the same sense of urgency that he'd done last time. That time that he'd woken up alone in the infirmary and sought out John in his quarters. He came to a halt just outside John's door, and froze, unsure of what to do. He held the jacket in his hands, and honestly, he'd come to return it. But it was just a few hours until dawn; Rodney had no business waking John up for something as trivial as returning a jacket.
Rodney turned back to his own quarters as shame filled him. But he only took a few steps when he heard a door open behind him, a quiet, "Rodney?" called down the silent corridor.
"John," Rodney said as he turned and found John Sheppard standing against the door in a threadbare panda t-shirt and sweatpants. He couldn't help but smile as he took the few steps back to John's quarters, though he noticed the dark circles under John's eyes. John was yet another person suffering from a lack of sleep. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No, no," John said as he shook his head. "I haven't been able to sleep all that much lately, and something told me to get up."
Rodney watched as John endearingly patted the walls of Atlantis, which made him a little envious about the special connection John had with the city. "Oh," he said, then held out the jacket. "I wanted to bring this back."
John took the jacket, a sad smile on his face as if he were reliving that night on the pier, too. "Thanks, buddy." He yawned, then said, "You wanna come in?"
"No, no," Rodney said shaking his head. "I just wanted to..." Rodney lost his train of thought as he searched the floors, the walls for what to say next when he suddenly caught John's eyes. He whispered, "You're my best friend. Did you know that?" And as soon as the words left his mouth, he couldn't hold John's gaze. Did he feel guilty? Ashamed? "Anyway," he muttered and then turned around to head back to his quarters.
Rodney stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. When he turned back, there was a multitude of emotions that seemed to play across John's face until finally he just smiled. "Me, too," John said, his voice quieted. He reached out his hand for Rodney to shake.
As Rodney smiled, he teased, "Kindof more than a handshake moment, Sheppard." He ignored John's outstretched hand and pulled his friend into a one-armed hug, which Sheppard returned.
When they finally broke, John took a slight step back. He gestured with his newly returned jacket. "Thanks."
"No," Rodney said. "Thank you," knowing that each of them was talking about so much more than just a piece of shared clothing.