Kavanagh slammed the papers down on the nearest table and spun to face Sheppard the minute the door was closed, . His mouth opened and closed several times before he could form a coherent sentence. When he did, his voice was thick with anger. He thumped a furious finger against Sheppard's chest.
"That was low, Sheppard. Really low."
Sheppard made a placating gesture.
"I wasn't going to tell her. It was the only way to get you out of there. You were about to run, don't tell me you weren't."
"What makes it any of your business what I do? Colonel Carter already approved my request! You have absolutely no right to tell me whether I can or can't leave."
"I have to help run this city and it damn well is my business when anybody comes or goes!" He hadn't meant to let Kavanagh under his skin, but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Kavanagh snorted.
"Help run it? You think you do run it, there's your problem, right there! Well, you're wrong. Colonel Carter's in charge here, not you. I have all the authority I need. There's nothing you can do about it." He ended on a note of smug satisfaction that made little timers go off in Sheppard's head. Sheppard lowered his head and stepped toward Kavanagh, his eyes narrowing.
"Oh really?"
Kavanagh backed up, his smirk faltering a little. Sheppard saw something change in his eyes, a note of doubt creeping in. He turned his head and looked at Sheppard sideways.
"Colonel...Sheppard?" His hand crept up toward his communicator.
Sheppard winced and hung his head.
"Damn it, Kavanagh. It's me, all right?" He ran both hands through his hair, clenched them, and let them drop to his hips.
"I guess you're right about one thing. There's nothing I can do to make you stay. Not... the way things are."
Kavanagh let his hand fall away from his ear, but kept a careful eye on Sheppard.
"What do you want from me?"
Sheppard ran another hand through his hair and scratched his head, thinking. Finally he looked up, his eyes serious.
"Look, I...I just wanted to have a little talk. I think you need to talk."
"Well, I disagree. I think you need to back off and let me do what I think is best, for a change. So where does that leave you? I guess you're stuck, aren't you? Unless you're planning to show everyone that you and that alien have more in common that they thought."
Sheppard couldn't control his quick, involuntary reaction, but he stopped himself before he reached Kavanagh. He fought for control, his fists clenched, breathing hard. Kavanagh's eyes taunted him, mocked him, telling him he meant every fraction of the insulting words and tone. Sheppard's eyes narrowed. He took a deep, calming breath and spoke, his voice carefully, deceptively relaxed, his fists still clenched at his sides.
"You know, you should talk to people more. Do you good."
Kavanagh sneered.
"I talk to people. I talk to people so much McKay tells me to shut up sometimes."
"You know what I mean. About...things."
The blue eyes pierced Sheppard's, pinning him. His lips parted in surprise as Kavanagh stepped closer. There was no insolence in the eyes now, only a desperate, frightening intensity. Sheppard realized with a jolt that Ronon had, with his usual shrewdness, seen Kavanagh more clearly than any of them had. It was how he'd known he'd be able to crack him without even touching him, that day in the interrogation room.
Sheppard wondered, suddenly, if Kavanagh had looked at Ronon then the way he was looking at Sheppard now. His stomach turned at the thought and suddenly he hated Ronon, hated himself, both for what they had done and what they were doing. Or rather, what he was doing. It wasn't Ronon's voice or eyes that would break Kavanagh this time.
He flinched almost perceptibly as Kavanagh planted both feet firmly and crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on Sheppard's, terrified but determined. Sheppard was reminded suddenly of a dog he'd cornered once, as a child. The other children were throwing rocks at it and he'd gone along with them, eager to show that he was the strongest and quickest of them all. It was the first time he'd ever felt that gnawing inside him, when he'd thrown the rock. The dog had made a bizarre, almost human sound, something between a sob and a scream, and flung itself at Sheppard's head. He hadn't even fought back, and his friends had laughed as he just stood, watching it run away, blood trickling down his face and one arm from where it had bitten him.
The same trapped look was in Kavanagh's eyes as he thrust himself into Sheppard's space, pushing him, daring him to push back.
"What if it was you? What if you were the one it'd happened to? You have plenty of friends here, everybody likes you, Mr. Great-Big-Fucking-Hero. Who would you tell? Huh? Who?"
Sheppard grimaced and looked down. Kavanagh stabbed a finger at him.
"Look at you. You don't even want to think about it. Because you know you wouldn't tell anybody either."
Sheppard shrugged elaborately.
"I might." He was pretty damned sure he wouldn't. He'd cut off a hand first. Kavanagh was right, and it made that place inside him start to writhe again. He looked up, almost pleadingly.
Kavanagh rolled his eyes. He gave Sheppard a look that told him he wasn't even slightly convinced, then shrugged and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.
"Maybe you would. Maybe that's why you're top brass around here and I'm still playing second fiddle to that egomaniac, McKay. Or maybe you're just luckier than me. It doesn't matter. I don't have anyone here I trust that much."
Sheppard scratched his head and gave Kavanagh a sideways look.
"How do you know you can't trust people if you don't give 'em a chance?" It sounded annoyingly pat even to his ears. How did psychiatrists do it? Damn, it was a shame about Heightmeyer. Of all the people to have lost...
Kavanagh rolled his eyes.
"In case you've never discovered it, Colonel Sheppard--in which case, I'm very happy for you--that's a good way to get hurt. That's how things get broken that...can't be fixed."
"Yeah, but if you always play it safe, you don't get anything worth fixing."
Kavanagh just gave him a look. He raised his head a little, indignant.
"Hey, I thought it sounded ok."
"Don't quit your day job."
Sheppard deflated. He looked plaintively at Kavanagh and tilted his head, employing the coaxing, slightly coy look that he couldn't remember using since the last days of his failed marriage. This was clearly going to take everything he had.
"I won't quit mine if you won't quit yours."
Kavanagh scowled at him.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't leave. Preferably one that doesn't include a bunch of trite, generic pseudopsychology left over from when you took Counseling 101."
Sheppard grinned, more as a stalling tactic than because he was really embarrassed. He'd used pseudopsychology for lower purposes, quite successfully. Not that anyone had gotten hurt in the process. Or so he'd always assured himself. There was a nagging voice in the back of his head that tried from time to time to convince him otherwise, but he'd always been able to weigh it against the good he knew he was achieving here, now, in Atlantis, and silence it that way. Because he was. Achieving a lot, that is. He was achieving a lot...Damn.
Sheppard felt a cold sickness grip the pit of his stomach, that way it always did when he got too close to thinking about that voice in his mind, or the little aches inside, left over from all the times he'd left someone with a smile and a promise everything would be ok. That was the past. He didn't do that anymore. He didn't let people down. He was Colonel Sheppard, leader of the entire Atlantis military force. He did not, ever, let anyone down.
The sickness came again, but it was receding, in slow, nauseating waves. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. It gave his voice a convincing roughness when he spoke.
"What if I said...just because I want you to?"
Kavanagh's eyes leapt to his, then glanced away. Sheppard thought the blue orbs lost a fraction of their hostility, but he couldn't be sure.
"What does that mean? Not that I believe it for a minute."
Sheppard shrugged. He thrust both hands into his pockets and looked thoughtfully at Kavanagh, remembering Ronon's advice. A smile touched across his lips as he cocked his head and let his eyelids drop a little.
"Take it any way you like."
Kavanagh looked down hastily, a flush stealing into his cheeks. He hung his head and toyed idly with a cord that hung over the edge of the desk.
"I'm not a tough guy type. You won't make a soldier out of me like you did with McKay."
"Fair enough."
"What you saw in my head--nobody needs to know about any of it, ever. For any reason."
"My lips are sealed."
Kavanagh gave him a truculent look.
"Like they were just now, in there? I want to hear you say it. Swear you won't tell anyone. No matter what."
"Oh, come on. What are we, ten years--"
"Swear it! Or I'm leaving right now."
Sheppard frowned and wriggled a little, thinking quickly. Nothing presented itself. He sighed.
"All right. I swear. Scout's honor." He gave an exaggerated two-fingered salute. Kavanagh glared at him. For a moment neither of them spoke.
Finally Sheppard broke the silence.
"Well?"
Kavanagh pressed his lips together.
"All right. I'll think about it. But I'm not making any promises."