Wraithbait

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1. Hello Timebomb2. Scar Tissue

Note: again, this is all Nemo's fault and once again I hope this isn't a mockery of your idea. *g* Thanks to ohevet_likro for beta. Comments welcome.

~*~

"OW! What the hell..?" Rodney's voice rang out through the lab, bringing Zelenka quickly to his side with a curious expression. Before he could ask what was wrong, Rodney said, "It's nothing. I just cut my hand on this...porcupine thing." Rodney waved his hand at the offending piece of alien technology, whose purpose had still to be determined.

Zelenka turned pale and winced. "I'll call Doctor Beckett."

"I don't need a doctor," Rodney snapped, but his scowl faded as he realized the sensation of wetness dripping down his arm was blood. He felt a bit lightheaded, so he leaned back against the table. "Umm...yeah, maybe I..." The room dimmed suddenly and Zelenka's voice seemed very far away. The room spun and something hard hit Rodney's face, then blackness overwhelmed him.

***

After prying his eyelids open, Rodney stared up into the concerned faces of Doctor Beckett and Major Sheppard. Beckett shined a small light in Rodney's eyes, listened to his heart and lungs, all the while asking him questions about who and where he was. Rodney answered each question concisely, staring over Beckett's shoulder at Sheppard who started to smile. Before Beckett could quiz him on his mother's maiden name, Rodney narrowed his eyes and said, "I didn't faint, you bastard."

Sheppard frowned and glanced at Beckett before answering. "I didn't say a word."

"You were going to. It's one thing after another. I'm just one big joke to you. Someone to blame when everything goes wrong. Blame McKay. Blame Canada!" By the end, Rodney was shouting so loudly his throat burned with the effort so he turned from Sheppard and looked at Beckett imperiously. "I want water."

"Sure, Rodney. Just lie still, okay? Try not to get worked up." Beckett stepped away with a warning look at Sheppard.

"What did I do?" Sheppard asked the room at large.

Rodney growled and closed his eyes. They popped open again when he realized that he'd just growled. Growled? What the hell? Something was not right here, something was... The thoughts swirled around his brain at a dizzying rate and then suddenly vanished as he focused on Sheppard again. "Stop looking at me like that."

Sheppard's eyebrows shot up and he said, cautiously, "Like what, McKay? What's wrong?"

Rodney shot straight up in bed and lunged for Sheppard, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him forward until their noses nearly touched. "What's wrong? You ask what's wrong? EVERYTHING. We're stuck in this stupid galaxy with monsters trying to eat us, natives who are useless, a ton of gadgets that we can't even use, and, and, and no fucking porn."

"You want porn?" Sheppard looked bemused, moving rapidly toward amused.

"Doesn't everybody?" Rodney ignored the pain in the hand not gripping Sheppard's shirt. "I know you're not as smart as I am, but this is elementary stuff."

Sheppard laughed. Fury burned fast and bright and Rodney forgot what he was talking about and shoved at Sheppard's chest, pushing him away as Beckett came back with a cup of water and a pill.

Rodney stared at the medication suspiciously. "What's that for?"

"It's for the pain. You hit the floor pretty hard when you f-- um, passed out." Beckett raised a hand as if to pat Rodney on the shoulder but dropped it when he looked Rodney in the eye. "It'll help you sleep."

"I don't need to sleep. I just need to eat something and go back to work," Rodney snapped. But a little voice inside his head wondered why Beckett's suggestion irritated him so much. He started to consider the situation, but was distracted when Sheppard stepped forward, so he rounded on the major with a snarl. "And you. You'd love to see any sign of weakness, wouldn't you? Well, you're not going to."

Rodney pushed Beckett away from the bed and lowered his feet to the floor. He closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness and felt a pair of hands grab him gently by the shoulders, keeping him from toppling over onto the floor. Sheppard murmured, "Take it easy, Rodney. You lost a lot of blood."

Rodney opened his eyes and glanced down at his blood stained shirt, then up to whoever was holding him. Sheppard. Of course. Rodney made a noise in his throat that the little voice in his head said wasn't natural and shrugged Sheppard's hands off. "Don't fucking touch me. I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I'm one hundred percent. I don't need you."

Sheppard held his hands up in surrender then turned to face Beckett. "Okay, doc, he's all yours. You talk sense to him."

Sense? Coming from John Sheppard, a man who flipped a coin in order to decide whether to accept this amazing opportunity--yes, he'd told Rodney all about it while wandering through a forest on one of their missions--that was a bizarre concept. And strangely infuriating. Before Rodney had another second to think about it, he was launching himself off the bed and bearing Sheppard down to the floor.

He ended up on his hands and knees with Sheppard's ass between his legs. Sheppard immediately started to buck and twist, and Rodney could vaguely hear Beckett yelling for security, but he ignored both of these things to slam a hand between Sheppard's shoulder blades. He lowered his head so that he could speak into Sheppard's ear, but got a whiff of Sheppard's scent--hot blood sex salt male sex anger sex. Losing interest in talking, Rodney sank his teeth into the nape of Sheppard's neck and the taste of his skin was even better than the smell.

He'd never felt so alive, so strong, so utterly in control. The bright hot splash of John's blood on his tongue energized him more that sugar, caffeine, and speed all rolled into one massive jolt to the heart. His cock was so hard it hurt, but he didn't feel like fucking so much as ripping something to pieces...and then fucking.

Sheppard's voice rang in his ears screaming cursing pleading and Rodney loved it. About time someone begged something from him. All those times he'd been the one to plead... a date, a job, more time, more resources, for someone to just fucking listen to him. Even if the pleading at all been inside his head, blocked from his mouth by fear and natural arrogance, he'd felt its effects.

Beckett was screaming at someone, hoarse and high and so thickly accented in his panic that Rodney couldn't understand a word he said. Hands pulled at him ineffectually. He was invincible and he had to pull his mouth away from Sheppard's neck to laugh. Power and joy and that same burning fury coursed through him like a river that had broken a dam. Running through his mental checklist, he pushed himself off of Sheppard and stalked toward the door. That bitch Kavanagh was next.

The door slid open and two soldiers with guns raised stepped through just as something heavy hit Rodney in the middle of his back. Arms wrapped firmly around his waist dragged him to the floor where the weight of Sheppard's body held him down. A needle drove deep into his hip right through his clothes but all Rodney could feel was the press of Sheppard's chest and the hot drip of his blood falling on the side of Rodney's face. He licked his lips, trying to get another taste and then the world went dark.

***

The next time Rodney woke up, every muscle in his body felt tight and the back of his left hand felt cold and achy. He tried to stretch, but found his arms and legs bound to the bed with thick leather straps, an IV needle taped to the back of his hand. The fog in his mind cleared enough for him to start yelling. He screamed for Beckett or anybody to release him, but all he got was a nurse telling him to calm down.

"Calm down? Are you fucking crazy? I'm chained to a fucking bed, bitch." His throat was raw, but the screaming felt good somehow. It energized him and cleared his head. He could go on like this forever. "Let me go! If that's too fucking difficult for your damned inferior intellect to comprehend, get that Scottish quack in here and tell him to untie me. Right the fuck now!"

"I'm sorry, Doctor McKay. I can't do that yet." The nurse shook her head and moved out of his sight. He tilted his head back and screamed. Long wordless howls that shredded his throat and made his heart pound and his cock stir. His voice gave out before his will, so he was still making a pitiful croaking noise when Beckett came to his bedside with that same damned crumpled expression of worry that he always seemed to wear.

"Rodney, listen to me. You've been infected with a virus that made you act aggressive and violent and...well, not yourself. We've been working around the clock to find a cure after our first two attempts failed. We think this one might do it." Beckett held up a syringe so that Rodney could see it before he shot the drug into the IV tube. "Now, just try to lie still and let the medicine do its job, okay?"

Rodney glared at him, his mouth working but no sound coming out. He moved Beckett a little higher up his mental list. He turned his head away to show his contempt and saw two armed guards stationed by the door. Nearby Zelenka, Teyla, Ford, Weir, Bates, and Sheppard--with a white bandage on the back of his neck--all huddled together talking quietly. Occasionally one or two would glance in Rodney's direction. When Sheppard looked at him, Rodney felt a familiar jolt of heat in his gut, but the desire to lash out was weak, as weak his he felt all over. With a firm nod at the others, Sheppard broke away from the group and came to Rodney's bedside, keeping at least a meter's distance from Rodney's bound hand.

For a long moment, neither Sheppard nor Beckett said anything. Rodney couldn't, so he just stared at them both before turning his gaze to the ceiling. He heard Beckett say, "It may be too soon to tell," and then a rustle of fabric and a footstep.

Rodney turned his head and saw that Sheppard had moved closer. So close, so close, right there, almost touching distance, so...close. Rodney's fingers stretched toward him and he honestly had no idea what he'd do if he could touch Sheppard...John. He opened his mouth and tried to speak but all that came out was "Sssss..'ry."

A hint of a smile crossed Sheppard's face and he nodded. "I know it's not your fault, Rodney. You were under the influence of some nasty alien bug."

Beckett smiled at them both and added, "If Major Sheppard hadn't tackled you so that I could get a sedative in, who knows what you'd have done next."

Rodney blinked and remembered his list. "K...Ka..." Warmth was spreading through him and a pink fluffy calmness was descending over him and all he really wanted to do was sleep. He closed his eyes and felt warm fingers touch the back of his hand softly then draw away. For the first time in what felt like weeks, he fell asleep instead of passing out.

***

Waking up. Rodney felt like that's all he did lately. The last few days had been an endless cycle of waking up and falling asleep. This time when he woke up, his stomach growled and his head felt like it might float off his shoulders. He must had made a noise, because Beckett came hurrying to his side with a cup of water. He slipped the straw between Rodney's lips and let him drink all too briefly before pulling it away again. He shined a light in Rodney's eyes and asked, "How are you feeling today, Rodney?"

"Hungry." Rodney licked his lips and shifted against the sheets. "Tired of lying in this bed."

"How is your emotional state?" Beckett poked and prodded in the impersonal way of doctors everywhere, but his voice was concerned. "Do you feel angry, upset? Do you have any violent impulses?"

Rodney considered the questions thoughtfully before answering. "No, not particularly. Could I please have some breakfast? And coffee? Lots and lots of coffee would be nice."

Beckett regarded him carefully for a long moment, then glanced around behind him and nodded at someone Rodney couldn't see. Two soldiers that Rodney vaguely remembered seeing in here before came through the door, unarmed but looking alert. Beckett held up a hand to stop them where they were and then slowly unbuckled the straps holding Rodney's arms down.

When Rodney shrugged his shoulders and lifted his arms to stretch his aching muscles, Beckett stepped back and the soldiers stepped forward. Rodney slumped back against the bed, exhausted even though he'd done nothing but sleep. "How do you feel now, Rodney?"

"Still hungry. Tired. Bored." Rodney glanced up at Beckett as fear gripped him. "You're not going to keep me here forever, are you?"

"No, your blood tests look good, so if today goes well, you can sleep in your own bed tonight." Beckett raised the bed so that Rodney could sit up.

"Ugh. Don't mention that word to me, right now. I'm sick of sleeping." Rodney rolled his shoulders and rubbed his face with both hands. "How long have I been here, anyway?"

"Almost a week." Beckett unstrapped Rodney's ankles and grinned up at him from the foot of the bed. "I had no idea you could curse like that. By the second day you were putting a sailor to shame."

"What did I..." Rodney sighed and shook his head. "No, on second thought, please don't tell me. Just...how many people do I have to apologize to?"

"I'll make you a list," Beckett said, patting Rodney on the shoulder before moving toward the comm. "But first, I'll get you some breakfast, all right?"

"All right. Thanks." Something horrifyingly vague tickled the back of Rodney's brain and even though he wasn't sure what it meant yet, he called out, "Oh and Carson? Could you put Major Sheppard at the top of that list?"

Beckett nodded and Rodney relaxed against his pillows once more. He didn't know what he had to specifically apologize to John for, but the phantom taste of blood on his tongue and the impulse to call Sheppard by his first name was pretty compelling. Something deep down inside him had been dragged into the light and now he had to figure out what it was.

And how it involved John Sheppard.

The end.