Nosophoros

Chapter 5

All characters of StarGate and StarGate Atlantis belong to their respective writers and MGM. This is a work of fan fiction. I just want to play with them for awhile.

Rodney McKay was not having a very good night. In fact he hadn't had a very good night since...since...damn it.

He rolled over on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The same ceiling that he'd been staring at for days now. He closed his eyes for just a second, hoping against hope that when he opened them again things would be different.

Slowly he opened one eye and then the other. But it was still the same old ceiling. Hell, even the shadows that danced across it looked like the same ones he'd seen the night before.

He sat up and untangled himself from the sheets. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he slipped his feet into a pair of slippers and got up. What was the use in trying to sleep anyway? It hadn't been doing him any good for days now.

Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair where he'd thrown it, he slipped it on and turned for the door. It wouldn't exactly be the first time he'd taken a late night walk since...since things had changed in Atlantis.

In fact he'd become such a normal sight that most of the night crew didn't even notice him anymore. Or else they were just pretending not to notice him and Rodney didn't know if he should be sad or mad at that idea.

His hands curled into fists and he gritted his teeth in anger. Damn, but he hated this! It wasn't just that he felt like a bug under a microscope and that Carson, Teyla, Elizabeth and even Ford had taken to watching him like a hawk.

He hated that he couldn't sleep. Hated that he could barely even think. But what he hated even more than anything else, was that no matter what direction he headed in when he started to walk, his feet always seemed to lead him to the same place.

And tonight was no different.

He raised his head slowly. The door was right in front of him again. He closed his eyes, hoping against hope that this time it was nothing more than a dream. He swallowed hard, saying a silent prayer that he would open his eyes and realize that he was still in bed.

But not even God or whoever was running the show up there was going to be that kind to him. He opened his eyes and had to choke back a sob.

The door was still there.

He leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling too weak to even stand. Slowly, he slid down the cool, smooth metal. He felt more light headed and dizzy than he ever had before. He couldn't even remember when he'd last had a decent meal. Food just didn't appeal to him right now and just the thought of it made his stomach turn in knots.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The lights in the hallway were dim but even that meager light hurt his eyes and made his head spin. It will pass, he told himself. Just sit still long enough and it will pass.

How long he sat there on the floor by John Sheppard’s door, he had no notion. He drifted, half awake and half asleep, opening his eyes only long enough to know that his head was still spinning. But when he opened his eyes this time, he realized that he wasn't alone.

He blinked, trying to focus his eyes, someone was kneeling on the floor next to him. The man's pale face was hidden in shadow but he'd know those bright green eyes and that shock of unruly hair anywhere. The face of the man that had been haunting his dreams every night. His dead friend. Was he really going insane then?

The man leaned over him, one hand lightly touched his shoulder. Cold fingers brushed against the side of his neck. A strong arm eased under his arm and around his back, lifting him to his feet as if he were a child and holding him up so that he didn't collapse into a heap on the floor.

Rodney could only stare. The man's lashes were dark and thick against his too white skin and something dark and dangerous danced in the eyes looking back at him. Rodney moved his lips, trying to speak. “You're...you're alive...”

Rodney's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed against him. John caught him up in his arms. Rodney felt as light as a feather as John carried him back into the room and gently laid him down on the bed. He searched around until he found a box of bed things. Unfolding a blanket, he gently laid it over Rodney, smiling sadly when he leaned closer and saw the tears silently sliding down the other man's face.

He stepped back, turning to leave when a weak hand reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his leather coat.

“Please...” Rodney's voice was soft. “Please...don't go.”

John sighed. He knew that he had to leave. He had to get out of Atlantis while he still had the chance. But when he looked down and saw the state his friend was in, he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave without at least saying goodbye to Rodney.

“Rodney...you'll be alright.” His voice was raspy with emotion. He'd never been very good at expressing his feelings, especially when it came to the people that he cared about the most. Apparently there was one thing about him that hadn't changed, he thought grimly as Rodney opened his eyes and looked up at him.

“John, please...”

John turned his head away. He couldn't bear to hear that cry in Rodney's voice or see those tears on his face. To hear Rodney calling out for him, begging him not to go was almost more than he could stand.

“Don't go.” Rodney whispered. He tried to raise himself up but he was too weak and he fell back against the bed. “Please...I can't stop thinking about...about you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears rolling down his face. “I'm sorry.” he whispered. “John...I'm so sorry.”

John sat down on the side of the bed and Rodney clutched at his wrist. His hand was cool, almost as cold as John's own, but there was life beating strong under those fingers. The urge to lift that hand to his mouth and sink his teeth into that tender wrist was strong. His nostrils flared. The hunger was still in him and Rodney was so close. So...damned...close.

He leaned over Rodney and his voice was a strangled whisper.

“So am I.”

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