Reconstructing Rome

By Indygodusk


Chapter 18


"A fool is one who admires other cities without visiting Rome."

FRANCESCO PETRARCA


It didn't matter that he'd stayed up late the night before, John still woke up early to go running. He'd always loved running, but there was something special about Atlantis and racing through dark corridors untouched for millennia, breaking out into the open sky paling to mellow dawn, alone and yet supported by crowds of programs, the sweet burn of exertion taking him to a place of euphoria and peace. After Atlantis, running anywhere else felt lacking. Indulging himself, John took the long route, soaking in the soft light of predawn gleaming off ocean swells and metal towers while ocean breezes dried his sweat and filled his lungs sweetly.

Suddenly out of a shadowy doorway something lunged at John. Pulse skyrocketing, John twisted to meet the attack. Dodging easily, the man passed with a pale flash of teeth and raced down the pier. Ronon. The man they'd rescued yesterday. It was just the Runner.

John was trying to tell his surging adrenalin to chill out when Ronon tossed his dark dreads over his shoulder and called back, "I thought I'd come running with you, Sheppard, but I didn't realize how slow and old you were."

Eyes narrowing, John lengthened his stride and went fast and hard, taking a shortcut through a side corridor and jumping down a short staircase to appear in front of the runner down the pier. Ronon barked out a laugh and caught up a few seconds later. John kept pace with Ronon but the younger and taller man made him work for it.

That's alright, John liked a challenge.

Sharing grins, they raced each other through the twists and turns of Atlantis. Eventually, the sun rose in a blaze of bright yellow-white that made tears prick John's eyes when he stared too long. In accord, the two men turned back towards the central areas of Atlantis and slowed for a cool down.

"So Sheppard," Ronon said, the first words he'd spoken since challenging John over an hour ago. His voice showed no indication of the hard pace they'd set during their run, "let's talk sex."

John stumbled and almost fell headfirst over the railing into the ocean. "What?" he wheezed, righting himself and putting on a burst of speed to catch back up to Ronon. The burning in his leg muscles bit like angry rattlers but John refused to let the pain show.

Ronon looked at John from the corner of his eye. "Sex. Is the current ban a requirement of fighting with you? If so, how long is it expected to last? Does getting sex off-world violate the agreement? I'm not sure I'm going to stay here so I need to know." Despite his deadpan expression, there was a suspicious twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Wondering if he was being hazed, John repeated the same things he'd been telling his people the night before and then referred the rest of Ronon's questions on safe sex to Teyla, which made the big man's pace finally falter.

Ha!

They separated with a wave at the next corner. John kept up a smooth pace until he reached his quarters just in case Ronon was watching, but as soon as his door closed he staggered to a stop and groaned in pain. He limped a few circles to finish his cooldown and then dragged himself into the bathroom and stuck his head under the sink, gulping down water like a beached fish. The tile beneath his feet spattered with water. It looked cool and inviting. John didn't need an engraved invitation. He carefully lowered himself down and sprawled out on his back. He hadn't run that hard for that long in years.

Ronon would probably expect to do it again tomorrow. If John chickened out, he'd lose Ronon's respect and the man might leave Atlantis. John had no intention of being chicken. The run had been hard but fun. He spent too much time sitting at a desk now anyway. Rolling to his feet and ignoring the crack of his back and left ankle, John started the shower with a thought and stripped off his sweaty clothes. There were worse ways to start a morning, but not many better.


Later on his way to get breakfast, John ran into Dr. Beckett in the hall. "Morning," he nodded.

"Good morning, Colonel." Beckett opened his mouth to say more but got distracted by something over John's shoulder. "Ah, Lt. Cohen. A moment, lass."

Greeting them with a smile, the young Air Force officer folded her hands behind her back. "Colonel Sheppard, Doctor Beckett, what can I do for you this morning?"

Hadn't people mentioned a problem between Cohen and Mckay? John needed to find out what had happened there and if it was something he needed to do something about. Most of the time he found it wiser to let Rome fight her own battles, but sometimes she got in over her head or was too oblivious to realize a battle was happening at all.

"Since I just got back I wanted to check in on you. Have you had any troubles lately? No more hives or swelling?" Beckett's eyes flitted over her, examining the lightly tanned skin of Cohen's arms and face. "No difficulty breathing or swallowing, no chest pains?"

"No, Doctor, not since the first few days." Cohen bit her lip and went pink. "Actually, I wanted to talk to someone about that, but I'm not sure who. I tried a nurse but she couldn't find the information on my chart. While I am very very grateful for the nice lotion and allergen-safe prepackaged foods your people have been delivering to my quarters, I really am fine now. They can stop."

Reaching into her pocket, Cohen pulled out a white container about four inches in diameter with a handwritten label reading Hypoallergenic Lotion. "I've barely gone through two of these in the last month but they're getting dropped off at my door every five days. I'm also running out of space for the extra food in my storage locker. I really don't need any more special treatment or deliveries."

Head tilting, Beckett hummed. "I'm glad you're doing so well, but I have to tell you, lass, that lotion didn't come from my infirmary. We print our labels. It looks like something made privately by one of the chemists." He gave a small grin. "This is a mystery. We also don't drop off prescriptions or food at personal quarters, that all goes through the dispensary and kitchens. It looks like you have a secret admirer, lass." He sent Cohen a wink.

Forehead scrunching, Cohen looked down at the jar in her hand. "But who…?"

"Can I see that for a moment?" John asked. He knew for a fact that Lt. Cohen had multiple admirers on base, but he'd gotten an itch at the base of his brain that it was something less obvious.

"Of course, Colonel Sheppard." Looking up at him, Cohen handed over the jar, blushing pink and biting her lip when her fingers brushed across his palm.

John hoped that she'd get more comfortable with superior officers as she gained more experience, but until then he pretended not to notice her discomfort. She was a sweet girl and a good officer. He didn't want to scare her away from Atlantis.

Looking at the label, John noted that the words were handwritten in green ink with a mix of print and cursive letters. The style looked very familiar. "I could be wrong," he said slowly, "but this looks like Dr. Meredith Mckay's handwriting."

Cohen's eyes went wide.

"Huh, perhaps," Beckett peered at the jar, "but gift-giving isn't really her style." A second later his mouth rounded in an O but he kept the thought to himself. John really needed to go back and interrogate Lorne about what had happened.

Passing the lotion back to Cohen, John shrugged. "When it comes to the really important things, Mckay's always been an 'actions speak louder than words' kind of woman. If she's not claiming credit loudly for her generosity, it's probably because she feels either stupid or sorry about something. If you really want to know why you'll have to ask her."

"Oh." Looking subdued, Cohen flipped the jar in her hands a few times before slipping it back into her pocket.

John abruptly wondered what message had his actions been sending to Rome. He thought he'd been a good friend and boyfriend, but admittedly he wasn't great at initiating things or doing the heavy lifting when it came to emotions. Had he been making Rome do most of the work?

When they'd first met, Rome was the one who'd unilaterally decided they were friends and started requesting him for her test flights, following him around, and sitting with him at meals talking a mile a minute until he couldn't help but respond. She's the one who coordinated their leave so they could go on vacation together and first invited him home to meet her sister. She hacked his file to keep track of his postings over the years and called in favors to get him transferred from Antarctica to California when she suspected he was miserable. He had to wonder if she'd helped him with other transfers too. She always seemed happy to see him, while he sometimes greeted her presence with grumpiness over the changes to life and routine that always came in her wake. Shameful as it was to admit, he hadn't even been able to work up the spine to ever do anything about loving her. She was the one who instigated their first kiss and first I love you.

John tried, but maybe he needed to try harder. He'd broken up with her over video (maybe bad but for good reasons) and then the second he saw her again he'd kissed her (good) like she was his last meal before dying (hard to regret but maybe not good). However, when he'd realized that she'd just almost died in his city, he'd panicked and tried to scare her back to safety using the freshly killed body of her ex-husband (rather bad and not his finest moment). When she'd stood her ground and refused to leave, he'd gotten scared of failing to protect her and losing her, and avoided her for weeks (probably bad, but a needed tactical retreat to get his head screwed on straight). On what might've been his last night on Atlantis he'd gone to see her (good), but then they'd argued and she'd been unreasonable and he'd hurt her feelings (bad) and he hadn't gotten a hug or a goodbye kiss (very bad) and also misunderstood or misstated something because now that he was back she was trying to treat him like a stranger (extremely bad).

On his first day back he'd also ended up tying her to a bed and ordering her to stay like a pet dog (once again for good reasons but perhaps bad in execution). It definitely wasn't as kinky as it sounded. Though he wouldn't mind tying her to his bed in different circumstances and seeing how well she took to obedience. Once or twice when they'd been dating he'd gotten a little too dominant while they'd been making out—something that had scared or turned off other partners—and she'd responded by melting into his touch and offering the sweetest submission that had practically killed him to keep from following through on. Only the knowledge of her lingering trauma from being assaulted and his oath to stay out of her panties without an explicit invitation had kept him from taking advantage and being a very, very bad man.

A-a-a-nd that was not something he should be thinking about in the middle of the hallway while talking to a female subordinate.

Crossing his arms in front of his waist, John saw that Cohen was too busy listening to Dr. Beckett's rambling words of wisdom to notice anything inappropriate. What had John been thinking about again that had led to kinky sex? Rome, obviously, but—oh, right, he'd been wondering what message Rome was hearing with his actions. John didn't like the answer his thoughts led him to: not the message he wanted to send.

John rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a grimace. He needed to fix this and it had to be something big, a gesture that declared without words that he both cared for and respected Rome. It also had to be honest. She'd probably want words too, but he had to create a solid base of actions first. Besides, he was bad with words.

As if in response to John's thoughts, Beckett finally ended his homily with, "Sometimes talking is the best medicine, lass. Good luck to ye." He patted Cohen on the shoulder.

Thanking them, Cohen turned and slowly walked away, obviously chewing over what she'd heard.


After breakfast, most of John's morning was spent creating a new roster of gate teams. There'd been many personnel gains and losses since the Siege and reconnecting to Earth. It required a lot of reorganization, including John's gate team SGA-1. John knew he definitely wanted to keep Teyla, but he needed to find a new soldier and preferably a scientist.

No matter how John personally felt about him, Lt. Ford was gone and needed to be replaced. Lorne had put forth a few good suggestions, but John's thoughts kept returning to their newest visitor. If Ronon stayed on Atlantis, he would be an amazing asset on a team. Working directly with Ronon would also give John the chance to evaluate him firsthand and deal with any negative fallout, if necessary. Not only was Ronon an amazing fighter, but he could also be a font of information on both the Wraith and different cultures in the Pegasus Galaxy that Teyla may or may not be as familiar with. The more John thought about it, the more he felt certain Ronon was the right choice.

As for the scientist slot, John had always rotated people through on an as-needed basis. It had been from necessity more than desire. After working with so many he knew exactly what he didn't want: no one who was timid, buckled under pressure, or couldn't think fast on their feet. His team did a lot of exploration, so he needed someone who could help them discover and retrieve Ancient technology while not offending the locals. Zelenka had come the closest to working out, but he was very vocal about how much he didn't like going on missions and sometimes he froze up when confronted by a threat and took a while to calm down enough to function again. John resigned himself to auditioning several of the new scientists to see if any of them would work out better.

Taking a break from assigning gate teams, Lorne and John decided to walk around and do a few surprise visits to the training rooms. Luckily the hysteria over Phukuntsi's actions and the sex ban had mostly died down after a good night's sleep and a grueling morning in PT.

On their way back, they walked past one of the main social lounges. It was located between the military training areas and the largest science lab and was rarely deserted during the day. Located in the corner of the tower, the open lounge had a soaring ceiling encompassing three floors and two stained glass walls, filling the room with sunlight, pastel geometric shapes, and soothing ocean views. Clusters of blue-grey chairs, silver tables, and leafy green and gold plants created pockets of privacy on the floor and surrounding balconies despite the size of the room. Walkways and staircases surrounded the open space like curling vines.

They were on the second-floor walkway when Lorne arched a brow and pointed a thumb over the railing "Look at that."

Glancing down, John saw Lt. Cohen standing stiffly above a seated individual. "What?" he asked, not sure Lorne meant her. Cohen shifted, revealing Rome sitting on the couch.

Lorne had finally filled John in about the debacle on the Daedalus. Rumors on base said that Rome had insisted on treating Cohen's allergies by herself and sent Cohen into cardiac arrest, almost killing her. That Rome had been attacked just a few minutes before was information that had somehow never made its way into the rumor mill or the weekly briefings he'd read while on Earth. It made John angry. He wished he'd have been here to help Rome and beat the crap out of her attackers. They were lucky they'd been shuffled off to the MPs for trial out of his sight while he'd been on Earth. However, he felt sympathy for Cohen too. He knew personally how bullheaded Rome could be when she thought she was right. John was just grateful both women were alright.

Rome sat on the edge of her seat with a tablet and stylus clutched gingerly to her chest, which was probably still painfully bruised from yesterday. She didn't look like she'd slept well, watching Cohen as if bracing for unpleasantness. John was too high up to hear anything, so all his cues came from body language. Rome nodded warily and Cohen sat down across from her and started talking. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Rome turned pink and looked away, shrugging one shoulder and mumbling something. Cohen leaned forward with an earnest expression and gestured.

John really wished he could hear what was being said.

Rome's head jerked up to stare at Cohen with wide eyes. Cohen said something else and Rome laughed as if she couldn't quite help herself, putting her tablet down and turning to face Cohen fully. Both women's body language relaxed and opened up as they continued talking.

"Good for them," Lorne said quietly, reminding John he was there.

Looking around, John realized that they weren't the only interested observers. Down below, Sgt. Kindall watched the women with a pleased smile, looking like he was thinking of going over to join them. Pushing back from the railing, John reminded himself that he wasn't going to be jealous of Kindall anymore. "C'mon Major, let's continue our rounds."


Despite John's best intentions, a full week passed without him finding a private moment to talk to Rome or do anything to prove himself. Not to say he hadn't talked to her. Work kept throwing them together, so it was impossible to avoid it. In meetings, he compromised and called her Mckay, but when speaking unobserved he defaulted to Rome.

When distracted she slipped into bantering with him as if nothing was wrong. Even her mocking was more humorous than cutting half the time and so not that bad, but when she remembered she was mad at him she went cold and formal. John hated that. He could tell he was wearing her down, but not as fast as he'd hoped.

John spent most of his waking hours trying to get Ronan to stay on Atlantis and join his gate team or catching up on administration and logistical work. Just when he'd finally gotten caught up at work and gotten Ronon to agree—along with Elizabeth a bit after the fact because she had to approve new people too, whoops—a gateteam missed a check-in.

Jumping at the chance to get out in the field again, John grabbed a jumper along with Teyla, Ronon, and a few Marines and flew through the gate to the rescue.

It was a good thing they'd cloaked the jumper because it looked like the two towns on either side of the gate had descended into war. The missing team didn't respond to radio hails so John sent Teyla and Ronon as natives who blended in to gather intel inside the towns and check the jails.

Meanwhile, John and his Marines scouted the surrounding countryside in case the team had tried to escape the fighting by going into the woods. Unfortunately, they didn't find anything but a few farmboys sneaking off to join the fighting on the hillside behind the two towns.

There was a moment of excitement when Lt. Tolman shouted over the radio, "Ambush!" Seconds later he squeaked out an embarrassed, "Nevermind! False alarm." John got there just in time to see Tolman sprawled on his hands and knees. He was covered in a flock of reddish-brown kobas. Most of the animals were running away, but as John watched two more glided down from the overhanging trees and bounced off Tolman's head and back, sending him sprawling again before scampering away into the underbrush after the rest.

Kobas were a popular pet in the Pegasus galaxy. They were small, could eat almost anything, and were low maintenance. They looked sort of like chickens but with fur instead of feathers and the faces of kittens, though the biologists claimed kobas were closer to flying squirrels than birds or cats.

Rome would love them. Should he get her one as a pet? Would Elizabeth care? Maybe he should ask forgiveness instead of permission on that one, perhaps bribing Elizabeth with a pet of her own at the same time? Hmm….

"The missing team is not in either town," Teyla said, melting out of the trees with Ronon. John hid his jump, pretending he'd seen her before she'd spoken. "Also, Colonel, someone has been asking after you again with the usual question. The woman I spoke to said she saw a dark-haired trader wearing red ornaments in his hair meet with our people in Gur, the leftmost town, asking if they knew a traveler named Colonel John Sheppard who carries high-tech weapons, makes the Ancestor's machines glow at his touch, and shows up around cullings."

"Sounds like someone wants you dead," Ronon said, pulling a knife out of nowhere and starting to sharpen it.

John scowled, wishing he knew if it was the Genii or someone else who had it out for him. This was at least the fourth time one of his teams had been specifically questioned about him over the last six months. He was a charming guy! Hadn't he won Teyla over on their first meeting? This level of animosity was clearly unfair.

"Supposedly, someone on the team answered yes to knowing you. The trader then insisted on taking the team to see the local temple. My source knows not what happened there, but the trader came running back alone and disappeared through the ring of the ancestors. Soon after, black smoke was seen rising from the temple. A holy man from Ruga, the other town, led a group of men to attack Gur with cries of blasphemy and treachery, obviously blaming Gur for whatever happened."

"They sparked a holy war. Great." John scrubbed his face and tried to raise the team on the radio again. Once rescued, that entire team was going in for retraining. Standard orders were to not answer questions about the expedition and its members without permission. And not to spark any wars!

Flying up to the temple in the jumper, John scanned the temple and discovered an Ancient structure hidden beneath the walls. Black smoke rose from the lower window on the north side. There were only four life-signs inside, hopefully his missing team. Unfortunately, the people of Ruga and Gur were scattered across the hillside killing each other with arrows and spears, making it unsafe to land. John finally had to set down the jumper in a precariously small spot in the temple courtyard as the only area clear of fighting. It barely fit and they couldn't open the ramp all of the way so everyone had to squeeze out the crack and then hop down.

Once inside the structure, they discovered that the trapped team had outdone themselves. They'd tripped both an Ancient security measure and a more modern boobytrap that must've been set up before an earlier culling cycle when this world had a higher level of technology. Using his genes to interface with the Ancient technology, John managed to suppress the fire causing the black smoke and unblock the signal jamming the radios, confirming that the team inside wasn't injured, just trapped.

However, before John could congratulate himself too much, he tripped something that made the wall Ronon was leaning against try to swallow him. It would've succeeded if Ronon hadn't had the reflexes of a feral cat. He dived across the floor and rolled back to his feet next to John with a knife and gun in either hand. John's attempt to fix whatever he'd done made the floor start rumbling, so he decided to stop and call in the experts.

It took almost two days of non-stop work and the combined technical might of Drs. Mckay, Zelenka, Kusanagi, and four assistants with names John couldn't remember to disarm the traps and get the team free. When the locals noticed their temple wasn't as deserted as they'd expected, John had needed four teams and two jumpers to keep everyone safe from the attacking locals. Both sides hated each other but had decided that they hated the Lanteans more and that killing them had the weight of a holy quest. Getting the necessary people and equipment in and everyone out safely had been exhausting and pushed them all to their limits.

While Mckay had complained at almost every inconvenience, she'd also worked harder than anyone to get the team out, barely sleeping until the last trap was dismantled. As many times as they'd worked together over the years, they'd never been out in the field together. John had been impressed.

John knew he could be a pushy bastard when tensions ran high, but Rome surprised him by obeying when it counted, making helpful observations, and blooming instead of crumpling under the danger and demands. When the pressure was highest, she stayed focused and let the fractures in their relationship fall to the wayside. She was completely professional and extremely helpful.

John felt responsible for Rome's safety and so had assigned Major McLean's team specifically to guard her and the scientists while other teams patrolled the perimeter. Despite that, he didn't find himself more distracted than usual on a mission. In fact, he felt less. John didn't feel the urge to micromanage Rome's work the way he had with other scientists. He surprised himself with how easy it was to trust her in the field. It freed him up to focus on his real job. Working with Rome had been easy and, despite the high stakes, fun.

That revelation made certain things crystallize in John's mind. He should have trusted her more. He needed to trust her more. Having Rome on Atlantis made everything better and easier.


AN: I hope you all have a great weekend! Even if you're stuck inside, at least it means no more work/homework, right? Thanks for reading and commenting!