liketheriverrun (liketheriverrun) wrote,

Fic: So Little Space, So Much Time...Day 3, Part 2

“Teyla, come on now. Come out of the bathroom.”
She should count herself lucky that she had had almost an hour free of men. Granted, they were merely a few feet away from her and divided by little more than a few inches of metal, but the small bathroom had felt like a sanctuary. And if she really tried, she could pretend she hadn’t heard them having a rock, paper, scissors tournament to see who slept with whom tonight. From John’s rather morose tone as he called to her once again, she had a feeling the two of them would be shivering together under the blankets.
“Teyla, look, if you come out, you can have first choice of who you sleep next to tonight. All right?”
“What? We already decided that fair and square, Sheppard,” Rodney protested. “You can’t go changing the rules midstream like this.”
“You’re the one who needs to pee, Rodney. And seeing as you refuse to go in an empty water bottle, it would behoove your bladder to stay the hell out of this and let me talk to Teyla.”
“I can hold it.”
“Maybe you can, but you can’t seem to shut up about it. And for my sanity and your longevity I’m going to get you into this bathroom no matter what it takes.”
She checked her watch again. Fifty-three minutes of pure, testosterone-free bliss. It was enough to make her weep to even consider going back out there. But of course she didn’t. She wasn’t about to burst into tears and let them think she couldn’t handle the situation. Although the thought of their discomfort at seeing her cry was enough to cheer her momentarily.
“You know, you just can’t go around making unilateral decisions like this, Colonel. This impacts more than you and…”
“Rodney, you can take your communal collective and let it take up permanent residence where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m the team leader and that means I have the right to make decisions in the best interest of the team.”
“Oh, and since when did we declare martial law in the Jumper?”
“Since the civilians stopped making rational decisions.”
Sighing, she decided that now was as good a time as any to vacate the bathroom. It was obvious any peace and quiet they had afforded her had been spent.
“Well, this is a perfect example of the military mindset that has driven modern society to the brink of moral collapse and political destitution.”
“Would you like to see the violence inherent in the system?”
“I’d like to see you try that…” Teyla shoved the door open and the two men stopped arguing. Rodney immediately yanked her out of the opening, “oh, thank God!” and darted in.
“That is evidently one way to bring an end to a disagreement,” she frowned at the door sliding shut in their faces.
“I knew he wouldn’t last too long,” John told her. “He was dancing around like a Chihuahua on hot pavement.”
“I heard that!”
John simply rolled his eyes at the declaration from inside the bathroom and turned his attention back to Teyla. “Well, then you can hear Teyla’s choice for who she wants to sleep beside tonight.”
She started to make a petty comment then decided she would be the bigger person. “I would be most pleased if you would allow me to share with you tonight, John.” 
She chose to ignore the victorious “yes!” that came from the bathroom and small triumphant grin on Ronon’s face.
Sheppard did his best to hide his disappointment. Evidently he had figured she would go for one of the larger, heat-producing members of their team. “The honor will be all mine.”
She wasn’t concerned, she knew that eventually Ronon and Rodney would come to blows again before the day was out and she would have one of them to keep her warm before all was said and done.
“So, are you okay?”
Teyla nodded with a hint of embarrassment at the wariness in John’s voice. “I am sorry for my behavior. I know I am not the only one feeling the strain of being confined to such closed quarters.”
“Hey, we’re all entitled to a little bout of cabin fever now and again.”
“Still, it was very… unprofessional of me. We are a team, I should remember that. We all should.”
Rodney exited the bathroom and raised his eyebrows at the comment. “Oh, God, you aren’t going to suggest a team-building exercise are you?”
“Actually, there is an Athosian tradition that is meant to fortify relationships. When there is strain between friends or family members, those in the feuding party must reflect on what is positive in the relationship and openly express their conclusions.”
“You mean tell you what I like best about you?” Ronon seemed more than a little uncomfortable with the idea.
“You can simply tell or express it in other ways such as in song, poetry, a drawing perhaps. My childhood friend once made a small quilt for me stitched with mementos of our friendship when we had a falling out in our teen years.”
“Darn the luck, I forgot my knitting needles. I could have knit us matching sweaters out of Ronon’s hair.” 
“You know what, McKay,” Ronon threatened, “that is the last comment you are going to make about my hair.”
“Why? Are you planning on cutting it?”
At Rodney’s remark, Teyla came to two conclusions. One, this was not exactly what she had in mind when she suggested the Athosian bonding ritual, and, two, she had been correct about Ronon and Rodney refusing to sleep together that night. Because Rodney’s smug grin vanished when Ronon growled and lunged at him. With eyes widening in a panic, the scientist turned to run away from his angry teammate only to smash face-first into the bathroom door with a curse.
John and Teyla barely had time to do more than watch it all happen, finally moving into action when Ronon turned Rodney around and fisted McKay’s shirt only to blink in surprise when he saw blood running down Rodney’s face.
Fingers dabbed delicately at the busted nose, completely ignoring the grip that was pushing him up against the door. “I’m bleeding! You son of a bitch, I’m bleeding!”
“I didn’t do that. You did it to yourself.”
“You charged at me!”
“You deserved it!”
“Ronon, let him go!” Teyla demanded from his right side.
“I didn’t do anything to him!” the Satedan insisted again.
“That might be a little more believable if his toes were touching the ground,” John pointed out from his left and Ronon looked down to see that he had McKay suspended a few inches off the floor.
With a snarl, he let go and backed off, Teyla pushing on his chest to move him even further away. Rodney had his head tilted back, pinching his nose and Sheppard gave a sympathetic wince. “You all right?”
“No, I’m not all right! What the fuck sort of stupid question is that? I’m bleeding for Christ’s sake.”
“Yeah, so I see.” Because, really, what else could John say?
“And he is not getting away with this. I am going to make damn sure of that.” With that declaration, Rodney stormed into the bathroom and tried to shut the door while simultaneously pinching his nose. That wasn’t working out so well, so he finally gave an aggrieved sigh. “A little help would be appreciated.”
John rolled his eyes that he was being expected to help slam a door when he only had one good arm, but between the two of them they finally managed to get the door shut. A few seconds later, the door cracked open again and Rodney’s hand appeared. “Give me a pen.”
“What do you think you’re going to do with a pen, Rodney?”
Sheppard’s question had the demanding fingers wiggling in irritation to match his voice. “Give… me… a… PEN!”
Teyla retrieved the sharpie she had been using with her magazine and put it across his palm. It disappeared instantly. “Now, shut the goddamn door!”
John started to comply with the request, but she moved in to save him the exertion and closed it the small amount that it was still open. John looked between the door concealing Rodney, Ronon pacing near the back hatch, and finally at Teyla before asking her, “Which one do you want to baby sit tonight?”
Teyla stood at one of Ronon’s shoulders while John flanked the other, and all three of them stood in front of the bathroom door.
“But I didn’t give him a bloody nose.”
Teyla’s sigh spoke volumes of what she thought of her teammate’s defense. “Ronon, you are not a child. Neither of you are children, despite your actions here today.” She stated that last part loud enough in the hope Rodney would hear it through the door. “It is time you began acting as an adult and apologized to Rodney for threatening him.”
“But he started it!”
“Look,” John snapped, his patience finally reaching an end, “I don’t care who started it, you’re going to end it. Now.”
Sheppard had come to the conclusion that part of Rodney’s problem was that he was going through caffeine withdrawal. His coffee intake had dribbled down to the small packs of instant coffee in the MRE’s and, what was worse, only some of the food packs contained his magic elixir. The physicist was quick to snatch up any that were in anyone else’s meals and he chose his based on the presence of his desired beverage mix. When Rodney refused to come out of the bathroom, John had rummaged through the remaining meals before finding the one he was looking for, cutting it open and pulling out a mocha-flavored coffee packet. But even after he cracked the door and slid his bribe in to the scientist, Rodney still wouldn’t respond. That was when John had had enough and insisted that Ronon apologize and that was where they were now.
The scowl on the Satedan’s face was met with a matching one from Teyla when he turned to her for support. Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any, he grumbled, “Sorry,” at the door.
“Louder,” Sheppard ordered.
Shifting irritably, Ronon did as he was told. “McKay, I’m sorry I threatened you.”
“All right, Rodney,” John called, “you can come out now.”
The door slid open and Rodney, still with a smear of blood on his lip, a wadded piece of toilet paper in one hand and the open coffee packet in the other, looked at the three as if surprised to see them. “Oh, hey.” Without another word, he pushed past and went immediately to his backpack.
“Rodney, don’t you have something you want to say?”
The scientist didn’t look back from his rummaging, just called a confused, “What?” in response to John’s question and tipped the pack of dry coffee granules to pour directly in his mouth.
“Ronon just apologized for threatening you,” Teyla reminded him pointedly.
“Oh, then, apology accepted.”
“McKay,” Sheppard growled in growing annoyance, “now you apologize to him.”
“Huh?” He looked up for the first time and saw John mouthing the word ‘hair’ behind Ronon’s back. “Oh, yeah, sorry about the… hair comment.” Fingers fluttered around his own head momentarily and then he was back digging in the backpack, finally pulling out a pad of graph paper before sitting and tapping the last of the coffee into his mouth.
“You have paper?” John demanded.
“Hellooo, I’m an engineer; of course I have graph paper. I mean, supply screwed up and ordered the wrong kind.  There’s no way to do a logarithmic scale on this stuff but in a bind… ”
Using his good hand, Sheppard yanked the pad from Rodney’s grip. “Give me that.”
“Hey! I need that!” Rodney was back on his feet trying to take the paper back.
John awkwardly managed to pull off several sheets before shoving the pad back at McKay.  “We’ve been sitting here for almost three whole days bored out of our minds and you had paper?”
“I didn’t realize you found graphing such a fun way to pass the time.”
Sheppard gave the man a look that suggested he might be the one forcing Rodney to retreat to the bathroom next. He then started doling out the pages to his other teammates. “Team building starts now.” When McKay started to protest he warned, “No arguments. Sit and come up with some way to express how much you like everyone in this damn Jumper. Do I make myself clear?”
Crystal,” Rodney snapped, then sat and immediately set to work.
Pleased with the results, John smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Teyla, Ronon, you guys get to work, too, and we’ll check in with what everyone has in about an hour.”
The four fell silent, Teyla writing down one particular memory for each man that exemplified their best traits. Ronon stared at the paper for a long while before finally starting to write, scratching out parts with a frown before starting up again. Rodney worked intently, only pausing long enough to try to get the remaining coffee residue out of the packet and into his system, and filling several pages as he worked. John struggled to write with his left hand, lying down on the bench and bracing the paper against his upraised knees, grinning to himself occasionally as he did.
After the allotted hour, John put down his pen and flexed the fingers on his left hand. Teyla knew that it must have been rather difficult for their team leader to write with his left hand, but he had felt the need to participate just as he believed the others should. He shifted uncomfortably and Teyla could see the pain in his eyes. She could also see something more… the return of his fever. And he had taken the last of his antibiotics with breakfast.
“John, how are you feeling?”
He shook his head to dismiss her worry, then looked around the room. “Okay, who wants to go first?” When no one volunteered he turned to Ronon. “How about you, big guy? Let’s hear what you have.”
Ronon seemed extremely uncomfortable with the prospect and suggested, “Why don’t you go with McKay first.”
Rodney didn’t even look up, just continued to work intently on his pad. “I don’t think he’s quite ready yet,” John told him.
“All right, I’ll go,” Ronon relented before mumbling, “I wrote a poem.”
“Really?” John sounded as surprised by the news as Teyla felt, and Rodney actually looked up from his work in curiosity.
“When I accidentally beat up those three Marines during that sparring session after we came back from Sateda and Weir sent me to see Heightmeyer, she thought I should find a way to release my anger in a more productive way than punching and kicking, so she suggested writing poetry.”
Ronon was actually turning red and Teyla felt the need to step in and rescue him from any further embarrassment. “Well, I, for one, am eager to hear what you have written.”
“Okay.” He cleared his throat and recited his poem.
Black was the smoke rising from my home.
Dark was the blood of my countrymen dried stiff on my clothes.
Pale were the faces of death that pursued us.
Deep was the sword of despair plunged into my heart.
Misery, grief, anguish, and agony.
That was my final day on Sateda
Black was the soft dirt under my fingernails.
Dark was the night that covered my tracks.
Pale was the moon that lit the path.
Deep was my sword rammed into their dead bodies.
Again, again, again, and again
That was my time as a Runner
Black were the clothes worn by Sheppard.
Dark were the eyes of Teyla in the cave.
Pale was the face of McKay hanging in the tree.
Deep was your sorrow at losing your friend.
Betrayal, failure, disappointment, and regret
That was the day when we met.
Black is my rage for the Wraith.
Dark are my recollections of the times past.
Pale is what my memories are doing as I spend time on Atlantis.
Deep is my commitment to my new home.
Friends, comrades, companions, and team.
This is my life today.
When he finished, Ronon clenched the piece of paper and shifted uncomfortably. John seemed somewhat stunned by the work and by the way he looked desperately to Teyla, he was evidently at a total loss as to what to say. Rodney had already turned his attention back to whatever he was working on.
“That was… very stirring.” Teyla’s delicately chosen words pleased Ronon because he relaxed and gave her a boyish grin.
“You really liked it?”
“Yes, it was… yes, I liked it very much. Did you not enjoy it, as well, John?”
“Oh, absolutely.” And his agreement came a little too quickly because he was struggling to come up with the right words for his endorsement. “I mean, the… emotion, and the… lighting descriptions… and the repeated stabbing… It was all… very… stirring.”
When Ronon’s smile wavered at the repeat of Teyla’s description, she jumped in again. “And moving.”
“Exactly the word I was looking for.” Sheppard pointed excitedly at his Athosian teammate. “Stirring and moving.”
Ronon did his best to contain his happiness over the praise.
And that’s when Rodney let out a sharp, “Ha!”
Once again Teyla found herself standing outside of the bathroom door. “Ronon?” she called with a knock. “Rodney has something he would like to say.”
“But I wasn’t laughing at the poem.”
Sheppard, who had taken up the same position he had when Ronon was protesting having to apologize, just glowered at Rodney. “Then your timing for spontaneous giggles sucks. Apologize.”
“But, it wasn’t a giggle. It was an expression of triumph. If you’ll just listen to what I’m trying to tell…”
“Say you’re sorry, McKay.  Now.”
With a sigh that he wasn’t going to win this argument, Rodney turned to address the door. “Ronon, I really liked the poem. I especially liked the recitation. The way you mimed slaughtering the Wraith over and over and over was very effective. Stirring.” When Sheppard punched his shoulder at his word choice, he rubbed at it with a glare of his own, but modified what he was saying. “It was very… emotive. I could really feel your anger and misery and all those other angsty words you used. It gave me goose bumps.”
The door slid open and Ronon grumbled defensively, “I never said I was a poet.”
“And I would never in a million years accuse you of being such a thing,” Rodney told him solemnly.
Ronon’s growl had John slapping the back of Rodney’s head with his good hand. “Ow! Stop hitting me!”
“Stop making me.”
“I meant that in a good way. As in it was impressive he could write a poem given his lack of training in the field of… poetry or creative writing in general.”
“And just what did you do, McKay?” Ronon demanded. “Seeing as I doubt you’ve had any training in those areas either.”
“I made this,” Rodney beamed as he turned the graph paper pad around to show an engineering diagram and several pages of calculations.
“That’s my gun,” the Satedan pointed out.
“Yes, it is. And I need it now.”
“Why?” Ronon asked warily. “What are you going to do with it?’
“Take it apart.”
“Try it and you’ll be experiencing all those angsty words first hand,” Ronon threatened.
“But I need the gun…”
Sheppard stepped between the two men in an attempt to keep things from escalating out of control once again. “All right, nobody’s taking apart any guns.” At Rodney’s attempt to protest, John cut him off. “You were supposed to be showing how much your team means to you, McKay. Not occupying yourself trying to figure out how Ronon’s gun works.”
“Fine.” Rodney pulled the pad to his chest and raised his chin. “How’s this for how much my team means to me? I like you guys so much that for my class project I decided to come up with a way to save us all and get us the hell out of this Jumper.”
The three of them just stared at the man in shock. John was the first to speak. “Are you serious?”
“You can really get us out of the ship using Ronon’s gun?”
Teyla’s hopeful tone had Rodney nodding. “Ronon’s gun is an energy weapon. Energy means power. And if I can somehow marry up the power source in the gun with one of the systems in the Jumper, then I might be able to get something to respond, at least for a short amount of time. But I need the gun so I can see how to connect it to the Jumper’s systems.”
All reluctance to give up his sidearm vanished as Ronon immediately offered the weapon to the scientist. “You want me to show you how to disassemble it?”
“Open it, but don’t disconnect anything,” Rodney directed. “I need to see how it generates the blast so I can control it.”
“What about us, McKay?” John’s excitement at the prospect of powering the Jumper carried over into his question. “Anything we can do to help?”
“You can check my calculations. Seeing as you ran down the computer, I had to do them all by hand.”
Sheppard completely ignored the jab and held out an eager hand. “Let’s see them.”
“And me?” Teyla offered her services.
“Do you remember the systems layouts from yesterday morning? Pull the busted control crystals.”
They all set to work and Teyla couldn’t help but think, finally, something worthwhile to do and, finally, they were once again working as a team.
The afternoon passed quickly with each of them seeing to their assigned tasks. John and Rodney worked for a long while on the calculations, occasionally arguing over the results. The first few times, John was proven to be correct. Although the only acknowledgment of that fact was Rodney furrowing his brow and giving a mildly surprised, “huh,” before going back to work on the pad of paper.
But as the day progressed, Teyla noticed that John was growing paler and slumping down into the seat a little more and Rodney was the one pointing out mistakes.
“No, Sheppard, that’s not right. You have the coefficient wrong here and here.”
John scrubbed at his face with his good hand and sighed in frustration. “Yeah, you’re right. Crap, that was a stupid mistake. Sorry.”
Losing interest in the math for a moment, McKay frowned when Sheppard shivered. “Are you okay?”
“It’s just getting chilly in here already. It’s going to be a cold night again, I guess.”
Teyla glanced out the front of the Jumper. The sun was just beginning to set and although the day had started out bitter cold, it had warmed nicely so that she never would have believed there had been snow the night before if she hadn’t seen it herself. Ronon and Rodney had both shed their jackets earlier and neither had felt the need to put them back on as of yet. Even she was rather comfortable in the Jumper, but John shivered again where he sat.
Ronon stood when Rodney shot them a worried look. “We need to check your shoulder again, Sheppard.”
He didn’t protest, simply started to shrug out of his jacket. Teyla helped him, laying a hand against the side of his neck and confirming the growing fever, then paling slightly herself when Ronon cut away the bandages.
“That bad, huh?” John didn’t even have to look at the wound, it was written across the faces of his teammates how badly the infection had grown.
“Well… you know… it’s not exactly…” Rodney stammered. But his reassurance fell a little flat given the way his lips thinned and complexion turned green.
Ronon, however, took the more direct approach. “Yeah, it’s that bad.” He turned to his other two teammates. “Heat some water; we need to clean it out.”
Teyla nodded in understanding. She had seen many injuries over the years, but Ronon’s military experience provided him an insight into this type of wound that living in a farming village did not. Rodney, coming from an even more sheltered background, was almost relieved to have something to do besides stare at the angry red skin and pus. He quickly set to retrieving one of the heating elements from the MREs while Teyla brought the water.
“This is going to suck, isn’t it?”
Ronon didn’t seem to notice the wince on Sheppard’s face as he probed gently at the wound. “Pretty much.”
“You know, a little white lie now and again to make a person feel better isn’t against the law.”
John’s comment had Ronon’s mouth curling at the edges. “You’ll love it. It’ll make you feel like a new man.”
Sheppard just frowned. “Although there is such a thing as over doing it.”
The warm water compresses actually did seem to alleviate some of the pain, as well as some of the shivering. But after half an hour, it was time to clean and reopen the wound to allow it to drain and that was much less pleasant for all of them. John’s occasional shivers had turned into full out shudders by the time he finally gave in to the offer of the last dose of morphine. But his teeth were chattering loud enough for all of them to hear by the end. And, unfortunately, only a part of it could be attributed to the fever or even the deepening chill in the Jumper. 
Once they had the wound redressed, he closed his eyes and curled on his side in the back of the ship and they bundled him up with blankets. When the sun set completely and the temperature started to drop, Teyla woke him to eat and drink some water. The last thing they needed was for him to become dehydrated on top of everything else. He choked down a few bites, drank the water she kept forcing on him, and spoke less than he ate.
“You look cold,” he observed when she rubbed briskly at her arms.
“You need the blankets.” 
John sat a little straighter and patted the seat beside him. “You’re my blanket buddy tonight, remember?”
With a small smile she sat and pulled the covers over them both. “Surprisingly, it appears that is the case. I was not so sure of that a little early.”  She glanced over to where Rodney and Ronon were discussing the gun’s power source. “It is amazing that they have worked together for several hours now and no one has ended up locked in the bathroom.”
John shrugged then hissed at the pain the action caused. “Rumor has it that’s how families are. One minute they’re trying to kill each other, the next they’re saving each other.”
“You know this from rumor only?”
“I’ve gained some first hand knowledge in the matter over the past couple of years.” He bumped his good shoulder against hers lightly as his eyes drifted to the two men using the DHD as a tabletop. “How’s Rodney doing with the ship?”
“They are making progress,” she promised.
Satisfied with the answer, John leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Don’t let him stay up too late working on it.” He shifted and the creases deepened at the corners of his mouth. “He tends to do that if you don’t stop him and without a couple of pots of coffee in the morning he’s going to be unbearable.”
Teyla watched as he fell asleep, trying not to think about how warm he was because that only meant his fever was worsening. Eventually she drifted off, too, waking when Ronon was checking on the blankets crammed into the opening in the back.
“Have you finished?” she asked with a yawn. John mumbled in his sleep beside her and she froze, not wanting to wake him. A small tremor passed through him and he settled once again.
Ronon squatted beside her. “I’ve done all I can to help. The rest is up to McKay.” She could just make out the face of the scientist as he shined his penlight into the open panel. When Sheppard whimpered and turned to lean his good shoulder against the wall, Teyla adjusted his jacket that was draped over his injured shoulder and pulled the blankets up over it. “How’s he doing?”
“The same,” she sighed. “His fever is still very high.” Ronon rubbed his hands together and she realized how cold he must be, so she pulled back the blankets. “Come, you are freezing.”
“I’ll wait for McKay to finish up.”
Checking her watch and seeing it was past midnight on this planet, Teyla remembered what John had told her. “He is done now.” 
She indicated the spot next to her again and Ronon sat, a chill coming off of him in waves in direct contrast to the fevered heat on her opposite side. But she knew that would change soon enough. “Rodney,” she called in a loud whisper. “You need to sleep.”
“I need to finish this,” he contradicted, blowing on his fingers that were causing the small light to shake.
“If you do not rest, you will make mistakes. And we cannot afford mistakes now.”
His shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “Sheppard’s… he’s not getting any better. We need to get him back to Carson. And the only way we can do that is if I can get us out of this Jumper.”
“Rodney,” Teyla told him gently. “You are tired, you are cold, and you barely have any light. You will be able to work better in the morning when you have rested and have the sunlight.”
“But Sheppard…”
She cut him off before he could protest further. “Needs your warmth now more than anything.”
It actually only took McKay a second to consider his options before he turned off the penlight and joined the rest of his team huddled under the covers. Moving in close against Sheppard’s back that was turned to him he asked in an alarmed whisper when he felt the heat radiating off of John, “Am I really that cold or is his fever really that high?”
“Perhaps it is a little of both,” Teyla offered hopefully, although there was no denying the fact that John was ill.
Rodney tugged on the blanket, which pulled them toward him and off of Teyla and Ronon, who then pulled back. Realizing this wasn’t going to work, Teyla set to trying to fix them the same time Rodney did.
“Here, pull that one that way,” McKay ordered. “No, not like that.”
“Rodney, it will not work if you do not…”
“But you aren’t giving enough… look turn it this way.”
“McKay, you’ve taken more than your share.”
Even with the three of them whispering, the ruckus was enough to have Sheppard mumble grumpily in his sleep, “Leave the goddamn chickens alone.” With his good hand he reached out and pulled the blanket around him.
Teyla bit her lip to keep from laughing and Ronon snickered. Rodney rolled his eyes. “Sure, Colonel, anything you say.”
They finally managed to get situated, gathering as close as they could for the warmth without causing John too much discomfort. Once they were finally settled, Rodney had one more comment. “I just want to reiterate that the sleeping arrangements are not to be mentioned in the mission reports.”
“You have nothing to fear, Rodney.”
Teyla was speaking of the reports, but Rodney expanded it to much more. “If only,” he lamented, unconsciously shifting a little closer to Sheppard.
John pulled in a breath that stuttered with a chatter of teeth, then he exhaled heavily against Teyla’s shoulder. Yes, she thought in worry, if only.

Day 4
Tags: fanfiction, john sheppard, rodney mckay, stargate atlantis, team

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