Title: Another Train
Pairing: Evan Lorne/Peter Grodin
Rating: R, language and hints at sex
Warnings: Spoilers through Runner
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never have been, never will be. Title from the Poozie's Another Train.
Author's notes: Many many thanks to barefootstarz for the beta and handholding!
"Scans look clear, sir. Some lightly populated villages about a mile east." Swanson checks the handheld scanner again.
Lorne nods, checking the safety of his P90. "Something's off. I hate to be one of those who gives into their gut, but my gut doesn't like this place. Keep your eyes open." He notes his men checking their gear and makes a mental note to commend them on Sheppard's next military evaluation.
The men collect their data as a possibility to make this world their alpha site and Lorne feels his edginess spread to his men. They're on their guard constantly, and checking in on time instead of clouding the airways with meaningless chatter.
"Sir!" Simms squawks over the radio and Lorne sees the Gate flare to life out of the corner of his eye.
"Get down! Take cover!" He yells back and watches in horror as Simms and Swanson dive for the treeline, narrowly missing two Wraith Darts. "Get back to the Jumper!"
The two men duck and run and weave their way back across the vulnerable area of the Gate and all four breathe a little bit easier when it fades to nothing. They track the Darts as the machines scream across the skies and beeline for the village.
"Sir. We have to do something." Aaron pants, wide eyed. "The village- they're defenseless."
"Maybe not. Look." Swanson points to the east at an orange rose already dissipating to black smoke.
"Explosives? Where'd they get those?" Lorne mutters. "What…" The men look in amazement as one of the Darts trails black smoke and slams into the ground.
"The hell? Sorry sir."
"Cloak the Jumper. We need to go find out what's going on here." Lorne orders.
The Jumper drifts lazily over the village where there's no signs of movement, no scans of life.
"If that wasn't the villagers, then who…" Simms muses out loud, not expecting an answer.
"Sir. There's still someone down there." Aaron points to a single dot on the display. "Oh, shit sir," he swore feelingly. "Whoever's down there is being followed by a Wraith."
"Do a flyover," Lorne orders, "be ready to fire on my mark." They sit in silence
"Poor sod probably doesn't have a- whoa." Swanson mutters peering out the view port. Another cheery explosion makes its way skyward and all four men sit on the edge of their seats.
"Look. There's a guy running. He's not a Wraith. And you'd think that if he were a villager, he'd stay around and bask in the glory of killing two Wraith."
Lorne frowns at Aaron.
"Sir, he's dialing the Gate. Do we follow?" Simms checks the rear sensors. "Looks like the villagers are coming back out."
"Cloak as soon as you get through the Gate." The Major nods.
The Jumper cloaks as soon as it rematerializes, but the open ground in front of the new Stargate is deserted and void of movement. They set down in the trees and check sensor readings one last time before heading out to the lone life sign.
The sounds of great gasps for air greet them before they lay eyes on their quarry. A dark haired man leaning against a tree trunk heaves for breath as Lorne and his team draw closer. A large tangle of metal lays at the man's feet and Lorne gives the signal to move in.
"Don't move!"
"Put your hands up!"
"Stand up and face the tree!"
Voices and commands overlap one another as the team bursts in on the clearing and the lone man. He looks up and Lorne finds himself frozen just as if he were following his Marine's orders.
The dark haired man stands, eyes still locked with Lorne's. "E-Evan?" He croaks, between being manhandled by Lorne's team. They stand back, guns still trained, fingers off triggers as their leader's inactivity and the stranger's recognition sinks in.
"Sir? Do you know this man?" Simms asks, eyes confused.
"Peter Grodin?" Lorne whispers. "They told me you were dead. That you died in the first Wraith attack on Atlantis. On the satellite." He keeps talking, unable to stop, ignoring the looks his team gives him.
"I wish I'd died on that satellite." Grodin says dryly.
"Sir. Who is this man?" Aaron asks more forcefully, shifting stance in case his leader became a threat.
"Dr. Peter Grodin. Physicist. Computer genius. Came over on the original expedition. Assumed KIA almost three years ago." Lorne's voice holds steady, contrary to his hands, shaking despite the fact he is gripping his P90 hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "Radio Atlantis. Tell them to send Dr. Beckett, Dr. McKay and Sheppard over in another Jumper ASAP. Don't let them refuse."
Swanson nods and jogs off to the Jumper. Simms and Aaron lower their guard, pointing weapons to the ground, but not putting them up completely. They still don't trust the stranger, and if he were in their shoes, he wouldn't either, so Evan can't bring himself to blame them. As it is, he realizes he may be making a colossal mistake in trust this man who looks like Peter Grodin, but the shock and relief and joy of seeing his presumed-dead lover leaves him grasping for some sense of normalcy. He'll deal with the ramifications of it all later.
Peter walks back to the tree and sinks down, burying his head in his hands. "I never thought I'd find anyone again, much less any of you lot." He mutters into his hands. Lorne kneels next to the man, banging his shin on the metal contraption near his feet.
Peter looks up at Lorne's stifled curse, and meets the other man's eyes for a moment. There's pain in Evan's eyes, more so than a bruised shin could cause, but it lifts a tiny amount as he grins and turns to the grey lump.
"Is this yours?" Lorne gestures. "I never thought you one for hauling useless crap around."
Swanson jogs back, "ETA ten minutes for the second Jumper sir."
"Thanks Swanson. So what is this?" Lorne's team watches as he teases, jokes, and relaxes around a man they'd considered a threat not fifteen minutes ago.
"It's a gun."
"A gun? It looks like a mutated rock."
The Marines skitter nervously as Grodin moves towards his weapon, but take their cues from Lorne, who simply watches in amusement, and relax as he makes a point to keep it aimed away from them.
"Are you sure that's not going to explode when you fire it?" Evan asks, teasing.
Taking one last, detailed scan of the treeline, Grodin heaves the monstrosity up and sights along a line that Lorne is sure can't exist. He warns Lorne and the other Marines back and has to turn away to hide a grin before he fires. All four instinctively cover their ears and stare as the top half of a tree topples, no longer connected to its bottom.
Grodin turns around and grins at them, but Lorne notices absently that it only changes his face. His eyes stay over-alert and he still scans the perimeter constantly, eyes flicking back and forth to and from even the most minute moving in the trees.
"So. You still think it's ugly?" Peter asks triumphantly hefting it up.
"Yes." Lorne replies bluntly. "Functional ability doesn't make it any less ugly. I'm sorry Peter." The words spoken in jest hang in the air and Lorne freezes, thinking of things not said. Things he should say. Things he's not sure he could ever say. Or face.
One of the Marines edges into the silence. "Sir? We've got a contact. It's Sheppard and McKay."
"Thank you Swanson." Lorne turns back to his friend…. Lover… love. "You ready for this? McKay's probably going to be pretty overwhelming…"
"McKay is always overwhelming." Grodin says dryly. Something within the gun beeped and Grodin shifts into a defensive stance.
"What?" Lorne moves to cover the other man, scanning the area around them for any threat.
"We have at most half an hour here." Peter says tightly.
"What? How do you know?"
"Just… trust me."
"Alright… Alright." Evan grips Peter's shoulder for a fleeing second that feels like an eternity and goes to speak to his CO as the Jumper lands. He waits near the back as the ramp lowers and catches Rodney as he stumbles out.
"What? What do you want? Why did you call me out here? Did you break a Jumper you brainless grunt?"
"No, Rodney, the Jumper's fine."
"Then… why? I can't well trust Atlantis to that group of ingrates." The scientist blusters, looking all around for smoldering wreckage or maybe a ZedPM.
"Well, Rodney, if you'd stop talking and breathe for a minute and let the man speak, I'm sure you'll find out," Sheppard drawls, stepping out from the Jumper.
"Aye lad. I hate goin' offworld." Carson follows.
Lorne takes a deep breath and addresses Sheppard first. "We have about half an hour here sir. Dr. Beckett, Dr. McKay," he inclines his head and steps to the front of the Jumper.
"I- what do you- oh my god." Rodney stops dead in his tracks, face going pale.
"Hi Rodney." Grodin stands near the front of the Jumper, shifting nervously.
"Oh my god." Rodney repeats. "Oh my god."
"Reduced him to three words? Well. That was more than we ever thought we could." Peter keeps his end of the conversation going, but Lorne can see a soldier's wariness at having his back to an open space.
The Major steps forward, keeping out of Rodney's sputtering, and takes up position next to Peter, facing the other man so he can keep an easy eye on both the scientist and the field.
Grodin relaxes slightly and shoots him a grateful look.
"Y-you're dead."
"Did you rob him of his IQ as well?" Peter enquires of John who merely smirks back.
"It's not every day you're asked for a meet and greet with your presumed-dead coworker." Rodney glares unjustifiable rage at Sheppard, who grins unabashedly.
"Look. We've only got half an hour. I need your help. The Wraith- the satellite…" Peter stutters to a halt, two years of solitude catching up to him, slowing the connectors between his mouth and mind.
Lorne shifts to lean against the Jumper and in a completely accidental move hooks an ankle behind Grodin's leg, relieved beyond words to feel Peter even through two sets of boots.
"Oh my god. The Wraith made you into a Runner?" Rodney blurts, voice high in indignation. "Carson. Go." He shoves the Scot forward.
The doctor approaches cautiously. "Och lad. It's good to see your face. The last time we had a Runner, I had to remove a tracking device implanted in his back." He held out his equipment as Peter shifts uneasily.
Lorne moves again, leg rubbing against Peter. "That's your scanner, right?" He asks Carson, watching as the doctor nods emphatically.
"Aye. I just want to locate the tracker. Alright lad?" Peter nods slowly and stands perfectly still as Carson circles him, eyes flicking occasionally to the sides. Lorne watches the two and marvels that he can be grateful that Peter has to be so paranoid.
"You're going to try and remove it here?"
"Not with the time constraints, no."
"I can jam it though, for a little while so we can get through the Gate again. It won't give us a lot of time, but it'll give us enough to get through and Carson can remove it. Then we can leave it wherever and give the Wraith a lot of big fat nothing." Rodney looks inordinately pleased with his plan and Evan checks his watch.
He addresses his men. "Fifteen minutes people. Get the Jumper ready to go. Rodney?"
"On it, on it…" The scientist disappears, John trailing after.
Evan turns to Peter. "I didn't even ask… are you okay… in general? With all this?" He watches the other man with worried eyes.
"In general?" Peter's smile is brittle and his hands shake. "With this, yes. I just… it's been two years?" He turns haunted eyes on Lorne.
"Your…" Lorne swallows hard, "disappearance was the first part of a Wraith siege. I came in with the reinforcements."
Peter's eyes never stop scanning and Lorne finds himself responding to the high alert soldier mentality, tense across the shoulders, cradling his gun close.
"Are you two going to stand around and reminisce all day or are you going to get your butts in here so we can go?" Rodney yells.
"Some things never change." Peter says dryly. Lorne grins and gestures the other man forward. Grodin takes one last scan and steps over to the pair of Jumpers.
Rodney bitches and grumbles and banishes Lorne's team to the other Jumper, ignoring their disgruntled looks and John's comment of "why didn't you just take the other Jumper in the first place? It would have been easier."
The scientist promptly tears apart several panels of the Jumper and yells at John to fly smoothly. The Lt. Colonel replies with a one-fingered salute and dials the Gate as they draw closer.
Lorne watches as Peter sits in a corner of the Jumper's rear compartment and breathes quietly. Watching the scientist's face and back grow more and more tense, Lorne takes his life into his hands and steps between McKay and one of the control panels.
"How long's it gonna be doc? I wanna get out of the Jumper and back to Atlantis asap."
"How long, what? Oh. That. Yes, I finished that ages ago. Go ask Sheppard why we're not moving."
Lorne curses under his breath as he moves towards the forward compartment. "Sir? Are we cleared to go?
"Not quite" Sheppard says tightly. His eyes pinch with anger as he taps out a channel for Lorne to switch his headset to. Elizabeth floods his ear with polite words.
"-m sorry John. I just don't think it's advisable for you to bring Dr. Grodin here to Atlantis."
Lorne opens his mouth to speak and shuts it in the next heartbeat at a look from Sheppard.
"With all due respect –ma'am I don't think you can make that ruling. Now, look, I'm not saying we bring him back and tomorrow he's back in the labs, but we need to bring him back to Atlantis." John's voice slows with anger.
"He could be… a Replicator. He could be a Wraith plant. He could have some communicable virus. I just don't see how this could be a good idea."
"Eliza- look… Ford. Ronon. The Ancients. Caldwell." He adds darkly. "You've let all these people on Atlantis without a second thought. Why now? Why Grodin?"
"He died John. On the satellite, just before the Wraith attack. Or do you not remember that?"
Lorne and Sheppard are saved a reply as Rodney's voice sounds in a disconcerting mix of radio crackle and naked ear.
"For god's sake Elizabeth. He's going straight to the infirmary and he'll be in quarantine so we can make sure he's not a zombie or some other oogie boogie. Is that alright? Cause he's getting a little claustrophobic back here."
"Gee, thanks Rodney…" Grodin's voice filters faintly over the radio and in the Jumper.
"Peter… It's good… to hear your voice again." Elizabeth says awkwardly.
"He can't hear you." John says a little more bitingly than warranted, wanting her to regret not automatically letting one of their family home. "We're coming through."
"Have a medical team standing by please." Carson calls out. "I'll need to remove the tracking device when we return."
Sheppard relays the message and Lorne returns to the back of the Jumper and takes a seat near Grodin.
"Sorry about that."
"No problem. Have things been bad?" Peter's voice hitches just before bad.
"Bad is relative." Evan tries to wave off the question.
"Everything is relative Evan. You don't have to tell me that." Peter says dryly.
"It's …kinda bad. I'll get you the entire annotated history when we get back to Atlantis." Lorne grins and Peter has to look away before the knot in his stomach unclenches and he wakes up dead.
Evan grins, giddy and impatient, and refusing to believe that anything could be wrong. Atlantis is getting one of her children back. The Gate settles to blue and the Jumper lowers to the floor in the Gateroom amid a war zone.
Lorne and Sheppard are out of the Puddlejumper before it has a chance to power down completely and find themselves on the wrong end of their armory's guns. John is demanding to know why and what's going on while Evan checks and double checks their training and whether any of his men have their fingers on the trigger.
"What the hell is this?" Rodney demands as he follows Peter out.
"Dr. Weir's orders sir. To cover Dr. Grodin from here to the infirmary and in quarantine."
John's eyes tighten with anger. "Great. Get us to the infirmary without killing any of us please."
"Jansen!" Lorne snaps. "Finger off the godforsaken trigger! Do you want to kill us?" The Marine snaps to attention and straightens his finger along the barrel of his P90, well away from the trigger.
"John." Elizabeth taps her earpiece and waits in front of the observation window for the colonel.
"Elizabeth." John stalks up and slams a hand into the window. "What was that?"
"What was what?" she asks implacably.
"That stunt with my Marines."
"What stunt are you referring to?" Elizabeth arches a delicate eyebrow.
"That stunt where you posted my men in the Gateroom while we were coming in with a quarantine situation." John growls, keeping his voice from carrying to the other occupants of the quarantine zone.
"But I thought you said it would be safe to bring him back."
"I did." John's drawl is tight with anger. "But that does not mean that you can put my men's lives at risk because you're uncomfortable with the situation."
"You agreed it was safe Colonel."
John paces in the window, like a big cat passing its life at a zoo. "Yes I did, Doctor, but I also agreed with Carson's recommendations for quarantine, as you were well aware…"
"I am commander of this city," Elizabeth draws herself up hoping to leave an impression, "and I make the decisions of what is safe and what is not. Do you understand me, Colonel?"
"No. Those are my men and my men's lives you are putting on the line. When we say quarantine, do not order them into that situation, ma'am." John disconnects his headset and strides jerkily from the window, pocketing the piece.
Weir raps on the glass and mouths something at him. John shrugs and gestures towards his ear and continues walking.
Lorne's eyes shine bitter and hopeful and are so fragile that Peter thinks his trembling hands will shatter them.
"Hi," he whispers, looking up from the infirmary bed.
"How are you?" Lorne asks, continuing the polite stranger's dialogue.
"Ev…" Peter shuts his eyes because weakness… weakness gets you killed.
Lorne sits, at a loss for words. They'd always been light and fun and easy and now Peter is broken.
"Peter… I don't… I want…" Lorne sketches his words in the air.
"You don't have to be here." Grodin says, pale and lost.
"We're in quarantine." Evan says dryly, unable to stop the sarcasm that was his natural defense. "But here. I want to be here."
"I missed you." Peter breathes, soft and truthful.
"I didn't know you'd been …reported killed in action until after the battle and I was doing Sheppard's paperwork." Lorne blurts into the comfortable silence, desperate for things to be alright. "I never thought… We didn't know."
And Evan turns his head to murmur "we didn't know" over and over into Peter's palm.
They both ignore the tears and Carson finds Evan sprawled out over Peter's bed, gripping the man's shin tightly enough that the handprint-shaped bruise is visible weeks later.
The doctor has to shake Lorne awake before Kate Heightmeyer walks in, armed with a clipboard, covered with a containment suit and ready for their first post-confinement session. She smiles politely at him as they pass in the doorway and he nods before leaving, hating every minute of being gone.
"Peter, it's very good to see you." She tells him as she settles into the chair Lorne just vacated. "I know this may seem a bit premature, but Dr. Weir thinks it is very important that your mental health is treated with the utmost importance."
The scientist barely stops himself from rolling his eyes and settles in as she starts speaking again. An hour later, the woman walks out armed with absolutely no more knowledge than what she started off with. She stops in the doorway to thank him politely and mentally curse the sheer stubbornness of men.
Lorne snaps to attention as she walks out and is immediately flanked by Sheppard and McKay.
"He's okay, right? He's not going to turn Iratus bug on us, is he?" Rodney asks worriedly. John throws a dirty look his way and scowls.
"I thought we were never bringing that up again."
"You maybe."
Lorne looks wearily at the two. "Anyway… That was quick Doc. What's with the early appointment?"
Kate looks oddly between the leaders of Atlantis and sighs. "Dr. Weir wanted me to make a preliminary ruling on Dr. Grodin."
"Of course," John growls. "Cause why wait to make sure the guy's physically sound before making sure he's not going to go nuts and blow up half of …whatever."
"Dr. Weir has every right to be concerned for the welfare of those on Atlantis. And her asking for an early psychological examination on Dr. Grodin falls acceptably under her purview." Dr. Heightmeyer says severely, some of the clout lost in the plastic of the containment suit.
"For the love of… Who does she think she's kidding? Well, besides you, of course," Rodney snaps. "She never wanted to bring Peter here in the first place. Now she's just looking for excuses to get him out."
"Go back and tell Dr. Weir that any examinations should wait til the poor guy's gotten his breath back. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since we found him." John adds, voice deceptively calm.
Kate mumbles something lost in the suit and flees the infirmary, three pairs of eyes burning holes in her back.
Lorne slips back into Peter's room, wincing as even his light steps open the other man's eyes. "Sorry," he whispers, reclaiming his chair.
"'s okay. I think these days even me breathing is going to be enough to wake me up." Peter tries to joke, to wipe away the uncertainty.
Lorne gestures to the door where John and Rodney are standing awkwardly. "Do you want me to go then? I don't want to keep you up."
"No. No. Stay." Peter shakes his head firmly and Lorne smiles wanly at his and Peter's commanding officers. He hears Peter groan quietly on the bed and whips around, expecting the worst. "I don't want… I didn't mean to out you," the scientist murmured quietly.
Lorne breathes a sigh of relief that nothing is blowing up or no one's dying and grabs Peter's hand, as desperate as if the limb is a lifeline. "I don't care about that. Don't Ask Don't Tell, we're in another fucking galaxy, all that jazz. Don't worry about that."
Peter nods slowly, still unsure of his place in the world, but willing to take Evan at face value for the moment.
John and Rodney turn from the small room, John content in the knowledge that one of his team's back, Rodney marveling that one of his friends has returned from the grave. They take a seat near Lorne's team who spare the room worried glances as John pulls out his headset again.
"Dr. Weir, this is Col. Sheppard. Why are you sending Dr. Heightmeyer here to see Dr. Grodin right now? What point are you trying to make here?" John's eyes narrow with anger, and his men shift uneasily while Carson and Rodney exchange looks.
"Dr. Heightmeyer has already been able to diagnose Dr. Grodin with post traumatic stress disorder, and it's one of her highest priorities to go ahead and set him on a regimen that will balance his mental state."
"What are you gonna do, drug him into oblivion?" Rodney mutters near John's shoulder, listening on the other side of the conversation.
"Well, of course he has PTSD. He was a Runner for more than two years." John says tightly. "God Elizabeth. I think everyone on Atlantis has some form of PTSD."
"Grodin was only a Runner for two years… Dex was a runner for seven. Did anyone ever test him for PTSD?" One of Lorne's team asks, shifting uncomfortably on the floor.
"When Grodin's tests come back clean, we'll talk." John shuts off the earpiece and hands it to Rodney. "I'll need to talk to Ronon once we get out of here," he throws a nod to Simms, who'd spoken.
Rodney is silent on the floor next to Sheppard, playing with the hem of his pants.
The two teams wait out the end of quarantine in relative peace, Heightmeyer's daily visits the only distraction. Rodney goes silent and still every time she shows up, glaring balefully at the woman.
John takes a seat next to the scientist. "What's up buddy?" He bumps Rodney's shoulder with his own.
"It's just so wrong. I never thought I'd say that, but I'm worried for Grodin." Rodney speaks more of his helplessness with his hands, sketching patterns in the air. John nods, grim.
"I can't do anything. Elizabeth has me outranked."
"I know. I know. I just… hate it." They wait until Carson clears them and they all scatter to their parts of Atlantis.
Peter gets a set of instructions from Carson and they escape the infirmary for a total of three minutes before Peter's called into Elizabeth's office. Evan groans and Peter goes white.
"Look, I'll come find you when I'm done." Peter says stopping them in the middle of the corridor. He looks up and down the deserted hall before pressing a quick, hard kiss to Evan's lips. The soldier nods, unhappy, and takes off to the armory.
"I've talked this over with Dr. Heightmeyer and Col. Sheppard extensively, and we have reached the decision to allow you to remain on Atlantis, with some conditions." Elizabeth says tightly, folding her hands on her desk, obviously not happy with the decision.
Peter nods slowly, uncomfortable being the object of such scrutiny. "And those are…?" he prompts as Dr. Weir seems ready to send him away.
Elizabeth sniffs disapprovingly and checks her computer. "You will have weekly meetings with Dr. Heightmeyer, more if I or she believe that your mental state puts anyone on Atlantis in peril. You are to remain in your quarters unless escorted by a team of Marines that will be stationed outside your door. You will, under no circumstances, be allowed in the Gateroom or the science laboratories. You will undergo weekly room checks, with the possibility of surprise room checks at any time. If you attempt to violate, or do not agree with any of these decisions, you will leave Atlantis and not be allowed back."
Peter nods slowly, swallowing hard as Elizabeth rattles the restrictions that he will be put under. "Very well." He rises to leave, shaking and feeling more enclosed than ever. "Is there any possibility that these restrictions will be lifted?"
"I will make that decision." Dr. Weir nods and returns to her paperwork as Peter walks out, trying to ignore the pair of soldiers at his back.
As Peter navigates his way through the corridors, a tall man with dreadlocks steps in front of him. "You're the Runner." There was no question in his voice.
"Yeah. You're the other one." Peter appraises the tall man. The scars, the whipcord lean muscles all point to the hard life of a Runner.
"Specialist Ronon Dex. From Sateda." He grunts, extending a large hand.
"Peter Grodin." Peter takes his hand and immediately goes flying through the air. He ducks and rolls as he lands on the floor, sliding to his feet, finding a wall to back up against. He drops into a defensive position and catches the Marines moving out of the corner of his eye. "No! It's okay." He waves them off, more afraid they'd contain him as the threat than separate the two of them.
"You're good." Ronon circles, watching for any opportunity to attack. "But I'm better."
"Of that I have no doubt." Peter keeps his guard up, aware of the strange gazes he and Ronon are attracting.
"Why don't you crazy kids take this to one of the training rooms?" Sheppard drawls, walking by and standing between the two combatants. "Come on. I have a feeling I'll want to see this." He gestures to the two men and leads the way to one of the lesser-used rooms.
Peter eyes the lt. Colonel as he saunters by, unsure of the role Sheppard played in the restrictions placed on his freedom.
Sheppard doesn't turn around as they walk to the training room. "I tried to talk them out of it. A lot. But they didn't want to listen to me. Elizabeth has Kate running to her every beck and call. I'm sorry Peter."
Grodin keeps an uneasy eye on the military commander of Atlantis as the words float back to him. "It's okay. Truly."
"It's not okay." Ronon growled from behind him. As Peter turns around in surprise to stare at the big man, he grins, a flash of teeth and very little humor. "But it will be."
John slouches out on one of the benches lining the training room as Peter and Ronon enter and immediately continue circling one another. Ronon makes the first move, lunging for the smaller man as he dances back out of the Satedean's reach. Peter makes the second move, sweeping a leg straight out in front of him, catching Ronon in the shins. John watches them both, lazily amused.
"Y'know, Elizabeth and Kate want to throw both you outta Atlantis now…" John says in a conversational tone as the two start to wind down. "Now that they think Ronon's got PTSD worse than you."
"I'd claim that to be supremely unfair, but I don't think I feel that way," Peter drawls, wiping sweat off his face. He shoots a glance up and smirks slightly.
"Fine. So we'll leave." Ronon shrugs. "Can't do any worse than we were before. You'd be out from under the restrictions." He knows how much any restriction rankles, after the dubious freedom of being a Runner.
"Worst comes to worst, I will." Peter nods.
Over the next four months, Grodin makes his required trip to see Heightmeyer at least once a week. For the first few weeks, Elizabeth calls him in to see her at least three times per week. He makes very good friends with the armed guards outside his door, and has surprise random room checks to make sure he's not hiding …a Wraith, a transmitter, what? It's not like he wants to go back to the Wraith, he doesn't want to be a Runner again.
"It's really insane." Evan says as movie night is interrupted by one of Peter's random room checks. "Do you really go through this every day?" He meets Peter's eyes, uncaring of the Marines streaming into the room around them.
Peter smiles back, brittle and humorless. "If I'm really lucky, I get to go two days without a room check."
Evan grinds his palms into his eyes. "I wouldn't blame you if you and Ronon really decided to leave." They'd talked about that conversation, the two former Runners leaving the controlling prison-like area that Atlantis had become. He wouldn't like it if they left, and he would seriously consider leaving as well. But Peter didn't have to know that. Peter just shakes his head mutely and waits until they leave before settling in to finish the movie.
"Oh good Christ." Peter mutters, catching sight of the soldiers in the mirror three or four days later. He whirls around, jabbing his shaving razor painfully into his neck.
"Get your hands up! Put the razor down! Slowly Dr. Grodin! No sudden movements!"
Peter sighs as they move through their familiar dance, ending with him pressed against a wall and soldiers pawing through his things. He'd sent Evan his books after the third "inspection" and they'd ended up on the floor, trod on, dirty, spines broken.
Every time it was mostly different soldiers- always ones who'd arrived after his 'death'.
"Peter, you ready to-" Ronon walks in and sees one Marine holding Peter against a wall and the other throwing his belongings around. He stops short and hesitates just long enough for Peter to know his intentions.
"Ronon, it's fine. Leave it." Peter snaps, trying to catch Ronon's eye. "It'll be worse if you do anything. Just… leave it."
Ronon stalks over to the pair and manhandles the Marine back, heedless of Peter's warning. "You're bleeding. What did they do?" He presses his fingers over the wound in Peter's neck, glaring at the Marines, who edge away nervously and mentally calculate how much time they have left before their next training session.
"They didn't do anything." Peter answers for them. "I jabbed myself while shaving." It's obvious that the Satedan doesn't believe him, but lets it go.
"Do you have to be here for this?" Ronon asks, checking the bleeding.
"No."
"Then let's go."
They had an audience of 1 the first time they sparred, and in every time since, the audience has grown in number. It's not often that members of the expedition find someone who can keep up with Ronon. They both have the fighting style of Runners- desperate, no holds barred winner takes all, loser dies. Ronon moves with the grace of military training underlying the desperation and Peter thinks quick on his feet- training a la McKay.
Their viewers today take up all the available space in the biggest room, and Radek had rigged a camera to transmit the fight elsewhere. Ronon stops just as they walk in the door and looks at John who's been at all of their matches, disturbingly like a proud father.
"Tell Elizabeth to pull the Marines off Peter or we're out of here in a week." He says simply, before turning to Peter and circling the shorter man.
John looks confused for a while, and next to him, Evan glares, scaring some botanists into scurrying away. Peter knows the Bandaid he'd thrown on his neck must be giving them the wrong ideas, but can't bring himself to care as he skids along the floor. He gives almost as good as he gets, keeping the Satedan off his feet for a full five seconds, and everyone applauds as they finish, panting and sweaty and bruised and ferally happy. Evan and John wait as the others file out, talking excitedly about the match and making a beeline for Radek and his bet book.
"What now?" Evan asks, looking at Peter closely. His eyes linger on the scientist's neck.
"Surprise inspection. I was trying to shave. It's nothing, really." Peter swipes a towel over his face, still trying to get his breath back.
"It's not nothing." Ronon and John and Evan growl, almost at the same time. Peter laughs, a little hysterically at that. "Tell Weir. He leaves, I leave." Ronon adds, gathering his things and leaving Sheppard in tow.
Evan follows Peter to his room and stands in the doorway, sighing at the mess the Marines had left. He stalks in and pins Peter to the same wall that he'd been acquainted with earlier, but with a completely different intention. "You leave, I leave," he says, voice hoarse. "I mean it."
Peter shakes his head, hands belying him and gripping onto the other man's hips. "You can't. I… You can't."
"I can. I will. Hell, I bet I'd be the furthest someone's ever run while AWOL." Evan smirks, levity fading in the face of Peter's desperation. "It'll be okay… It will." He says, running his hands up and down Peter's arms. The scientist nods, burying his face in Evan's neck. Evan runs his fingers through Peter's hair and shoves him towards the shower.
"I need to talk to Sheppard and Ronon. I'll come back in a bit." Evan pulls Peter back and kisses him before leaving.
"Sheppard, this is Lorne." Evan trots down the hall out of Peter's room keying his radio.
"Yeah Lorne." Sheppard's voice is tight and unhappy.
"You got Ronon there with you? I need to talk to you. Before you talk to Elizabeth. Where are you?"
"Mess hall." Sheppard signs off and Evan double times it to the hall. He finds John and Ronon together in the back, the big man looking disgruntled.
"Whatever you say, Elizabeth's not going to go for it." John says as Lorne halts before the table. "She didn't want Peter here at the start, and she's not going to get rid of the security restrictions now."
Ronon nods. "What is her problem with him? She didn't have that many complaints when I came here."
Lorne looks between the two. "She's afraid. She spent so long thinking Peter was dead, that she can't get used to him not." He flushes as the others stare at him. "Or something…"
John nods slowly and gestures Evan to a seat. "Yeah. That makes sense."
"The big question is: what'll happen if you do leave? Is she going to come to her senses eventually? Is she going to cut off all contact? What?" Ronon shifts and sprawls out in his chair.
Evan scrubs his hands over his face. "I don't know. I'd like to talk to Kate about this, but I don't think that's such a good idea at the moment. It looks like Dr. Weir has her wrapped around her little finger, and I'm not sure what she'd do if we went to her with our concerns."
"You think Kate will tell Elizabeth that we don't think she's being fair?" John asks as Ronon looks between the two of them, silent.
Evan shrugs. "It's a toss-up, really. Had to say though, I'd err on the side of caution and vote yes. I don't like what Dr. Weir's doing right now."
"Don't like… Hell boy, if we were back on Earth, this whole thing would be a distant memory." John stretches backwards.
"Which is why you were flying taxi to Antarctica." Evan shoots back, all tease and John glares at him sideways.
"Oh look." Rodney drops a tray of food next to Ronon. "It's a meeting of the mindless grunts. Between of the three of you, there must be a complete brain."
Ronon looks over in disgust. "You eat too much."
John sees the warning signs of an 'I'm-hypoglycemic-and-have-to-eat-on-a-regular-basis' lecture and jumps in before Rodney can start. "We're trying to keep Peter Grodin and Ronon here. We can't exactly just overrule Elizabeth on this."
Rodney frowns around a mouthful of sandwich. "Why not? This is something that she's obviously abusing her power on, so why can't we just make a petition or something?"
Evan and John look at each other and shrug helplessly. "Military situation you'd call her unfit for duty but Dr. Weir's not military." Evan tips his chair back on two legs. "Maybe I shouldn't get involved in this."
Rodney stares at Evan as though he's gone mad. "Why not?"
Evan shrugs, uneasy under the scrutiny. "It's not that I want Peter to leave, but as you've probably figured, Don't Ask, Don't Tell plays pretty heavily here." He meets John's eyes steadily, knowing full well that bringing up DADT confirmed any assumptions.
Sheppard looks back at his 2IC. "That's all the more reason to want to keep him here. Rodney, any ideas?"
The scientist grins. "Several politely worded letters to Elizabeth that she'll ignore, and then a letter to the SGC that won't be ignored."
"Since I don't trust you to write these letters and I have a second in command for a reason, it falls to Lorne here to write." Sheppard claps the man on the shoulder.
Lorne shakes his head, resigned to his fate of doing all of Sheppard's paperwork ever.
He heads back to Peter's room, finding the man just wrapping a towel around his waist. He drops to his knees, taking the towel with him and blows Peter, relearning sounds and places and spaces he'd forgotten. He pulls Peter down after he comes, panting and shaking to clutch his arms and thank god he'd gotten a second chance.
"Rodney has an idea," he whispers into the scientist's hair. "I think it'll work." He leaves Peter's room the next morning and spends the next two hours writing and rewriting the letters until one final draft goes through three revisions and comes out the same as the first. He sends the letters to Sheppard who forwards them to Rodney likely without reading them first and the scientist sends them out in a carefully planned sequence.
John explains the situation and threats from Ronon or sweet talks Elizabeth into it, but either way, six days later the Marines are pulled off Grodin detail and the room checks trickle down to once weekly.
"Dr. Grodin, please report to the Gateroom immediately." Elizabeth's voice crackles through the earpiece sitting on the bedside table.
Peter and Evan share a moment of panicked looks before Peter acknowledges, rolling over and groping for the earpiece, speaking into the mike. "On my way." He turns to Evan who's sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on boots and a shirt. "You're coming?"
"Don't sound so surprised." He says dryly. He pulls the scientist to his feet and closer. "Most everybody in Atlantis is on your side. But if she throws you out-"
"Thanks for the ringing vote of confidence." Peter mutters.
"-she'll be throwing me and Ronon out too." Evan finishes as if Peter hadn't spoken.
"I still say you shouldn't do that."
"And I still say you're full of shit."
Peter sighs and tugs Evan closer, resting their foreheads together. "Why do I put up with you again?" he murmurs against Evan's lips.
"My ass. And great sex." Evan shoots back, slipping his hands into Peter's hair and sliding his tongue over Peter's lips.
"That's right." Peter kisses the shorter man and swats his ass. "We'd better go before they don't send a search party."
Evan blinks several times and nods before kissing Peter harder and deeper, dragging their hips together. "Okay, okay," he says, breathless.
Peter rakes fingers through his hair and nods. "Time to face the dragons."
Rodney huffs in annoyance as Peter and Evan make their way up the steps to the control room. "Did you get lost? What took you so long?"
"No, we decided to take the scenic route." Evan shoots back, aware that Sheppard and Weir are standing to the side. Both look grim and he can't tell which looks worse. Peter's wandering around touching everything and Rodney watches with fond sadness. Elizabeth clears her throat and they all follow her back into her office.
Evan stands by the door at ease, hands loosely clasped behind his back, unwilling to completely relax. Peter takes a seat in front of Elizabeth and John and Rodney flank him.
"It has been brought to my attention that certain members of this expedition feel as though you have been treated unfairly." She begins, imperious and blameless. "We agreed on terms when you first arrived. It should have been brought to my attention when you felt these terms were unsatisfactory."
"With all due respect ma'am, I couldn't have. You confined me to my quarters and expressly forbade me from the Gateroom which," he gestures around him, "is where your office is located. Had I tried to contact you about my …concerns would you have used the opportunity to be rid of me? Atlantis is my home. I'd already lost it once. I wasn't going to risk it."
"I see. Well somebody took it upon themselves to contact Earth about the matter, sending all the reports and Dr. Heightmeyer's findings as well as transcripts from each of your meetings."
John whistles. "That's a lot of paper."
Evan watches Peter's guarded hopefulness, Rodney's smug satisfaction and John's ability to give nothing away.
"Several psychologists as well as the higher ups on Earth have made it clear that all restrictions are to be lifted and Dr. Grodin is to be placed wherever Dr. McKay sees fit."
Rodney claps Peter on the shoulder. "You got your old job back you think you can handle it."
Peter grins up at the other scientist. "Better than you ever could." He turns to Elizabeth. "Thank you Dr. Weir."
John and Evan exchange incredulous glances. Dr. Weir didn't have anything to do with his reinstatement as evidenced by her too-straight posture and tight smile.
"Welcome back to Atlantis Dr. Grodin."