at your own chosen speed

San Francisco is quarantined off. The SGC helps spin many lies and scare many people until Atlantis can be safely tucked away. John still can't get used to it. The Golden Gate Bridge. It's right there. It's kind of cool. He turns to the empty spot by his side. Rodney's not there talking a million miles an hour. John looks back at the bridge. He's been out here a lot since they landed. It's the most alien place he's ever seen. The charm seems to have worn off on everyone else. Woolsey's been on conference calls for two days. Teyla's gone to the SGC to talk things out with Carter. Ronon... where the hell is Ronon?

And Rodney. Doesn't take a genius to guess where he is.

John rolls his eyes at himself. He hopes that some time soon he'll stop missing Pegasus.

Two days later Woolsey says the SGC has plans. Atlantis can't live in San Francisco. Rodney belligerently sputters, “Oh, because it's such an eyesore. Unlike that feat of modern art, Alcatraz.”

John smiles at that. Then he remembers he hates Rodney now and stops smiling. Ronon notices his mood change and offers John a really annoying and knowing smirk. If John could do such a thing, he'd honestly kick Ronon's ass.

“If you haven't forgotten,” Woolsey says very calmly, “Atlantis, is still a secret. I have no idea how, but that is the case. And the government would like it to remain a secret. Which is why, Colonel, you'll be flying it to Antarctica.”

Crap, John, thinks. Sure, he's flown the city before, still, crap.

“Great,” John says. “Can't wait.”

“But...” Rodney looks pained. “It's warmerer here.”

Woolsey steps away from his desk and gives Rodney a pat on the shoulder. “I know.”

“I like Antarctica,” John says with a nod. Ronon snorts and John gives him the skunk eye. “You sure you should be walking around?”

“I feel great,” Ronon says.

John swiftly turns back to Woolsey and says, “Anything else?”

Woolsey goes back around his desk to take his seat. “No. We're under orders to take it easy for the next 48 hours. The SGC's sending some people over to help with the proceedings.”

“Anyone one we know?” Rodney asks.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” a smooth voice announces.

John turns to see Cameron Mitchell standing there with a hundred watt twinkle in his sharp blue eyes and pleasant twist to his mouth.

“Welcome home,” he says to everyone, though he's looking at John.

John discreetly eyes Rodney who is frowning at Mitchell like something fierce.

Ha, John thinks. Seriously, ha.

This could get complicated, John thinks later. Thing is, Mitchell is hot and he and Mitchell have this thing, this spark, this... there's something there. Only, John wanted Rodney once and... it all fucked up. And now Mitchell is here, looking all... ugh, dashing is so not the word he wants to use.

John makes a face like he's stepped in something foul. Maybe because he's about to. He sees Rodney and Keller get up from their table in the mess, before walking out together. Keller's laughing. Oh, because Rodney's so funny. Like she even gets his stupid dorky jokes. He's seen the way her brow furrows sometimes and Rodney waves off his lost point with 'You know what? Forget it,' before he goes back to being the perfect boyfriend.

“Why are you hiding behind a plant?” Ronon says, making John grip his tray.

John steps away from the plant and glares. “I was thinking.”

A smile spreads on Ronon's face before he laughs low and quiet. “Yeah. I bet you were.”

John shakes his head and walks off towards a table, taking a seat from where he can see the bridge in the distance, helicopters continually circling the area and keeping everyone away. Ronon lands in the chair opposite and takes John's pudding cup. John doesn't have the heart to object.

“I've never been here before,” John says quietly, feeling the colours of Earth sinking into him, colouring him in the strangest ways. “I can't believe it.”

Ronon shrugs. “Lot's of places in Sateda I've never been to.”

John turns and looks at Ronon, nodding. Makes sense. People can go far away places and miss something that's always been close. Because maybe humans are just that dumb.

“You need to get laid,” Ronon says. John snorts coffee out of his nose. “You. You keep looking at McKay like he's going to die,” Ronon says, making a face.

John pulls a face, wiping his mouth. “No I'm not.”

“Uh, yeah you are,” Ronon says with a look accusing John of being stupid. “Teyla's worried about you.”

“You and Teyla are talking about this?” John thinks he must look as appalled as he feels.

“Yeah. She's the one who pointed it out,” Ronon says.

“You guys really suck, you know that?” John says.

Ronon gets up. “Whatever.”

“Where are you going?”

Ronon nods to the doors and grins. “Amelia.” John let's out a laugh and shakes his head. “Hey. You going to be okay?”

John nods. Of course he'll be okay. He's been okay all these years after all. “Yeah, he says, eyeing the stupid bridge again. I'm good.”

When he's worn out by the monotony of winding down so he'll be ready to fly the city, John picks up his sticks and makes his way to Teyla's quarters. He knows she'll be wanting company. She's not there. It doesn't take long to find out that she's on a ship headed on a recon trip to Pegasus to pick up a few stragglers. John would have gone, so they never asked him. He bets they never even gave Teyla the chance.

God help them if Teyla doesn't come back okay.

John decides to seek out Lorne and do... military stuff or whatever. Lorne hasn't exactly been peppy since Teyla hooked up with Kanaan. On the other hand, his marksmanship ship has never been so good.

John gets as far as opening his door when he's greeted by Cameron Mitchell who is standing there looking deep in thought.

“What?” John asks.

Mitchell frowns. “I dunno. I was trying to figure out how long I was supposed to be aloof before coming here and hitting on you,” John makes a squinty face at him. “Sorry, did I say I was going to hit on you? I mean, ask you out for a beer and... stuff.”

John leans against his doorframe. “You came to Atlantis to hit on me?”

Mitchell pulls a face. “As well as coordinate the troops who have no idea of what's in store for them when they step into this fine city of yours.”

His city, John thinks. Something about that stings a little. He can't quite place it. “So you're not here to hit on me,” he says quietly.

Mitchell looks at him, his eyes flicking to John's mouth. He really shouldn't be so loud about this, he should hide it better. “I dunno. You want me to?”

John doesn't know what he wants. It wasn't supposed to be Rodney. Not then, not now. Not ever really. Fuck it, John thinks, how often has he been selfish? Really, fuck this.

John looks into the hall before sliding his hand around Mitchell's neck and pulling him into a kiss. Mitchell steps inside, his arms sliding around John as the door closes behind him. John feels a burst of longing as Mitchell's fingers curl against his back, or slide up his arms and dig into his biceps, or slide up to his shoulders, the thumbs digging in just under his collar bone, or sliding up to his face, the touches hungry and possessive before they move to his shirt and just pull until the buttons pop. John unzips Mitchell's jacket, helping him out of it before he pulls Mitchell's t-shirt over his head. His hands slow down when he sees the scars, stroking lightly over healed skin which is too pale in contrast to the rest.

Mitchell grabs John's hand, using it to pull him close before he pushes back John's shirt, sliding it over his shoulders before kisses a curve, tasting and biting the skin, both of them managing to coordinate their effort to the bed. The shitty bed Rodney always complained about. The bed that forced John to lie too close so he wouldn't fall. He really hated this bed.

He almost pushes Mitchell onto it like he wants to hurt it. As John crawls over Mitchell, Mitchell sits up and grabs him by his tags, pulling him close so John ends up in Mitchell's lap, hungrily kissing and nipping at Mitchell's mouth, relishing the slide of the other man's hands up down his back. He pushes Mitchell onto his back, his hand snaking between them. Stupid pants. Should have taken them off first.

Still, he finds the waistband and goes to working Mitchell's pants open as they kiss, their bodies beginning almost involuntary thrusts towards each other. God, they still have their boots on. Idiots, John thinks, just as his fingers began to slip inside Mitchell's pants. Only Mitchell is flipping him over without managing to roll them both off the bed. In the next moment John feels Mitchell push his arms up before pinning his wrists to the pillow.

John stares up at Mitchell, both of them breathing hard, Mitchell flushed from face to chest. It's hard to read Mitchell expression. He's trying to read John too. John closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

“What happened?” Mitchell asks quietly. John shakes his head. It's meant to be easy between him and Mitchell. They don't have to do all this. “John.”

He opens his eyes and looks up at Cameron, swallowing hard. “He got sick of waiting for something that wasn't a sure thing. And I let him leave.”

Cameron sighs and John looks anywhere but at the man who has him pinned down. Cameron ducks his head for a moment, before lowering himself closer, pressing his unmoving lips to John's throat, sliding them up to his jaw as John just lies there, all the blood in his body having rushed to his heart which might just collapse. And there's Cameron whose hands have slid down John's arms and onto his chest where he continues to map out a pattern with static lips.

And then as quick as waking from a dream, Cameron is standing and John feels cold, like his body is sinking under miles of fog. He closes his eyes and berates himself a little, a lot, a whole lot maybe. He can hear Cameron dressing. It's not a pleasant sound. John sits up and reaches for his useless shirt. He doesn't expect Cameron's finger to insert itself under his chin and to tip his face up to find a gentle quirk to to his mouth.

He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to John's mouth, pulling away and whispering, “One of these days, Sheppard, you're going to kiss me because it's what you really want.”

And he's leaving like he only dropped by to see a buddy about a thing, while John sits there with his stupid shirt in his hands. “Don't you ever get sick of waiting for something that's not a sure thing?” John asks as Cameron reaches the door.

Cameron turns around, brow furrowed in thought. His lips curls for a second and he says, “My grandma always said, goods things come to those who wait. You know, she hasn't been wrong yet.”

John chuckles at that. He wants to debate whether he falls into the category of good things, but Cameron will have a good old country boy answer to it and John will feel a bigger jerk than he already does, so he just nods and smiles.

“Hey,” Cameron. “Buy me, dinner. You owe me that much, Sheppard.”

Cameron gives him a nod and smile and it's meant to be that easy, lying your way through life. John nods and says, “You got it.”

The next time John's caught out staring from behind a plant is because he's just seen Mitchell in the mess and he's not quite ready to buy him dinner and be buddies again so quickly. Not while he can still feel his fingers where they wrapped around his wrists and held him down exactly when he thought he might fly apart. So John turns to leave and Rodney is right there. He doesn't even have a plant or anything. He's just standing there looking like maybe he's remembered where he lost his keys.

“Hey,” John says. “I was just leaving.”

Rodney nods mutely before he looks at where Mitchell is sitting. A tightening around his mouth suggests he's reached a conclusion he has no right to even think of entertaining. His eyes say he's searching for something to say.

So he says, “You've already eaten?”

John nods. “Yeah. I was pretty hungry.”

Rodney smiles one of his 'I'm pretending to be normal and social' smiles. “Oh. Okay. Want to keep me company?”

John thinks about it. No, he doesn't want to keep Rodney company. Ever. “Sure.”

Rodney beams. “Great.”

Rodney loads up his tray with a sandwich, salad, fruit, water and finally a cup of coffee. John wishes he hadn't said he'd eaten. They both take a seat from where John can see the back of Mitchell's head over Rodney's shoulder.

“So, Antarctica. Can you believe it? Going back to right where we started,” Rodney says with a not too pleased smile.

“I don't see any other choice,” John says, eyeing Rodney as he blissfully eats his meal. He wants to be a bitter old bitch and say 'well, you had no problems going back to right where we started', but he decides he's pretty good at playing John Sheppard and just sticks with it.

“Hello,” Rodney says, 'you idiot' implied. “Moon base?”

John can't help but laugh. He gives a conceding nod. “That would be pretty cool. And you finally get to be Dr. Evil.”

“Oh please,” Rodney says, scrunching up his face. John just laughs it off.

“Hey, what's so funny?”

John watches as Rodney seems to go all soft around the edges as Keller stops at their table, holding a bottle of water in her hands, twisting the cap back and forth.

“I was just pointing out McKay would make a great Dr. Evil if we had a moon base,” John says, all laid back, casual and laconic. The girls and boys love laid back, casual and laconic.

Keller scrunches her face, smiling, but confused. “Dr. Evil?”

Rodney nods. “Yeah, you know, Austin Powers? International man of mystery? Mini-Me?”

Keller laughs, turning her nose up a little. “I never really liked those movies.”

Here it comes, John thinks as Rodney sits back, eyes Keller and smiles and says, “Well, they weren't that great.”

John looks past Rodney and sees Mitchell striking up a conversation with Lorne, both of them headed to the other end of the mess. How is sitting here with Rodney the imposter better than being naked with Mitchell? John thinks it through. Oh, yeah, it's not.

“Sheppard? John.”

John looks back at Rodney with a frown. “What?”

“We were just saying a tropical island that doesn't get many visitors might be nice for Atlantis,” Keller says with a smile.

We were, were we? “I would fully support that idea,” he says more than amiably.

When he looks at Rodney to smile, nod and affirm this idea, Rodney is watching him very closely. Like he's figured out the equation. Screw you, John thinks, you have no right.

“I have to go,” John says. “Get ready for lift off.”

“That's not for another thirty-six hours,” Keller says.

John smiles at her and leans in, pretending to confide in her. “Rodney's kicking me under the table. I think he wants me to leave you two alone..”

Keller laughs and gives Rodney a rather doting look. It makes it easier to like her and to continue hating Rodney a bit more.

He's not sure what he's doing here in the middle of the night, six pack of beer in hand, sneakers and jacket thrown over his t-shirt and sweats. Somehow he has ended up outside Mitchell's temporary quarters and is waving his hand over the door crystals.

When the door opens, Mitchell eyes him wearily for a moment, standing there in a pair of boxers. John's not an unfit man by any account, but damn it if he doesn't suck his stomach in a little at the sight of Cameron Mitchell. Then he lifts up the six pack and sags against the wall. Mitchell smiles.

They don't take the jumper far, setting it down so they can sit on the grass and look out at the bay under the light of the one moon. When did one moon suddenly become less than enough? John takes a swig of his beer, Mitchell drinking next to him as they both sit in silence for a while.

Then John asks, “How's the team?”

Mitchell nods. “Good. Jackson's still talking about Atlantis. Even though he almost got fried last time he visited you guys.” John nods. Atlantis is a hard place to not be affected by. It gets into you, slips right under the skin. “So... this thing with McKay--”

John calmly puts his beer down and turns to face Mitchell, shutting his mouth with a kiss. Mitchell gives a surprised laugh at the tactic and then just goes with the flow, putting down his beer and cupping the back of John's neck, gently pushing him back onto the ground where they make out like a couple of teenagers, just revelling in kisses and touches, pressing closer and closer.

Mitchell breaks away and takes a breath. “Damn. You make it real hard for a guy to be chivalrous.”

“So quit being chivalrous,” John says, breathing hard too.

Mitchell nods, swallowing. “I would, but here's the thing, I don't want to be rebound guy. Rebound guy sucks. And I'm pretty sure I'm rebound guy here.”

John thinks it over, nods, and then shoves Mitchell back. Mitchell lands on his back with a huff and a laugh before he stretches out on the ground, fingers linking behind his head as he blinks up at the sky, his pale eyes catching all the light and sparkling bright. He aims his gaze at John.

“What's so special about McKay?” It's an earnest questions, without malice. He's really curious.

John picks up his bottle and shrugs. “He's just McKay.” Somehow, that was pretty special in itself.

Mitchell nods, as if he gets it. John doubts he does get it, because John sure as hell doesn't get it. Some people don't even like McKay and he... doesn't get it.

Mitchell sits up with a groan before jumping up to his feet. He holds out his hand to John. John pulls a face it. “You're not going to offer me a corsage next are you?”

“Jeez, it's just a hand up, I'm not asking you to go steady, Mary Loo,” Mitchell says with ease and enough charm to melt a glacier. John grabs his hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

They end up colliding slightly, chest to chest, leaving them standing there a hair's width apart. Mitchell has an amused twist to his mouth. John can feel a spark of yearning for Mitchell, how easy things feel with him. Even if they're not exactly working out.

“Hey,” John says, “Remember that alien prince you married when you were visiting? He's been asking after you.”

Mitchell shakes his head and calls John a bastard. Enough charm to melt the North Pole.

Atlantis is quiet. Some people have taken the opportunity to take leave, others are at the SGC and he's still wandering the halls at night. He's thinking about Mitchell, calling him a few choice names for his so-called chivalrous ways. What the hell is he talking about rebound guy? Rebound guy was planets away and months back. He'd quite wantonly let John fuck him into the prettiest silken pillows and thanked him for his warrior's spill before returning the favour into the early hours of the morning. That was one hell of a rebound guy.

John massages the back of his neck and sighs. He should have just gone to bed hours ago. He was probably one of the few people still up. Except... except for Keller who is walking down the hall. She looks tired, somewhat fragile even.

John goes to her. “Hey, Doc. You okay?”

Keller looks up at him and she doesn't seem so fragile anymore. Her eyes are bright, but angry. Real angry.

She nods at him, looking as though maybe she's just decided something. John doesn't feel so good about this. “I have to apologise,” she says.

“You do?”

She nods. “I do. It's probably stupid, but if I don't do this, I know I'll regret it.”

John frowns. “Do what?”

And then she pulls back and swings harder than John could ever anticipate. The thing about small bony hands is they really pack a punch, especially if you put the right force behind the blow. And Keller, she puts some force into it all right. It knocks John off his feet. He tells himself it's because he wasn't prepared.

“What the hell?” he snaps, flexing his jaw open and shut as he looks up at her.

Keller's holding her hand close to herself, grimacing. “That feels better. Hurts, but feels better.” John just stares at her from the ground. “He probably deserved it more than you did, but hey, done now. And I did apologise.”

“What are you talking about?” John asks, though he has a terrible feeling he knows. He slowly gets to his feet. “What the hell did he tell you?”

Tears well up in her eyes, which she angrily swipe away. “He didn't have to. All he had to do was admit it.”

“He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about,” John says. “I didn't ask him to do anything.”

Keller nods. “He said you never would.”

John doesn't know what to say. He feels like he's going a little insane. “Jennifer, Rodney's crazy about you.”

“But he's in love with you,” she says with a smile that's strained and taut.

John finds it hard to tell her, “You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Keller says. “Because that's what he told me. He loves you.”

John opens his mouth to say something. He has no idea, but anything's better than just looking at her standing there so wounded and betrayed. She saves him from saying anything.

“Wow. Way to make someone feel like an idiot,” Keller says with a laugh that sounds hollow and painful. She looks up at John, searching his eyes for answers he probably doesn't have. “I can't believe I didn't figure it out.”

“I didn't ask for this,” John says quietly.

Keller shrugs. “Maybe you should have. At least I wouldn't be feeling so stupid.”

They stand there in the empty hall, averting each others eyes until she says, “I should probably go before the urge to hit you comes back.”

“Yeah,” John says, stepping aside and letting her pass.

John debates whether it's a good idea to go to Rodney, but then he thinks, why should he? Rodney's the architect of this grand fuck up after all. Let him handle it. Of course, Rodney is in John's quarters, waiting for him. How nicely presumptuous of the self-confessed genius. John glares at him from the door. There are many things he will say. Like Rodney's rights concerning his presumptions. John steps forward. Rodney cuts him off before he even starts by holding up his hand.

“Just, hear me out, okay?” he asks. “I take it you saw Jennifer.”

John can still feel the punch. No doubt Rodney can see its effect. “What do you think?”

“I'm sorry,” he says, his voice a little unsure and raw. “I told her it wasn't your fault.”

“Rodney--”

“Just, wait, and then you can say whatever you want, throw me out, whatever. I just need to tell you,” Rodney says. “I... just, I saw you looking at Mitchell.”

John shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Rodney waves his expression away. “I know. Tough shit, right? I don't get to be jealous. It's none of my business. I know,” he says, his voice sounding a little raw.

Bastard, John thinks, making him feel sorry for him, like none of this is his doing. He's a fucking genius all right. John folds his arms across his chest and just stands there, waiting for more. Rodney seems at a loss for words, mouth opening to say something and remaining silent.

Rodney sags, sighing and rubbing his forehead. He looks at John and says, “I really miss you.”

John stares at him, his arms slowly falling to his sides. He could be somewhere else right now. He could be kissing Cameron and damn it, it would be because he wants to. And if Rodney looks so fucking miserable, it's his fault. John didn't ask for any of this. This isn't fair.

“I miss you too,” John says.

Rodney nods, looking even more miserable. “I'm sorry.”

John nods. But he made it easy to leave didn't he? That way he could hate Rodney as much as he wanted and it would be fair. So he says, “Me too.”

Rodney stands there waiting for something to happen and John roots himself to the spot to stop it. Then Rodney nods and says, “I better go. I just wanted to tell you.”

John watches him awkwardly move away from the bed, heading towards the door. He can't help but blurt out, “What you told Keller. Is it true?”

Rodney stops. He seems to be thinking about it for a moment. Then he turns his head and nods at John. “Yeah. It's been true for a while.”

“You have an interesting way of showing it,” John says flatly, making Rodney grimace. Rodney's not one to shy away from his faults though. So he nods and waves off John's comment. Someone needs to tell him his approach to fixing things he's broken could be a little better. Still, John ends up saying, “Want to stay a while?”

Rodney turns to face John with an expression which might as well be written in thick black letters asking John if he means it. This isn't just some corridor for racing cars. Not a lab for playing computer games. Or the mess for talking about inane subjects. This is the place where John's been the most honest about himself with Rodney.

“Really?” Rodney asks, which makes no sense so John figures he's answering some complicated question he's just asked himself.

John nods. “Yeah,” he says, answering the same question.

So Rodney stays. And John lets him.

- the end -