~ 4 ~

Okay, so I'm stomping down the corridor, knowing I probably shouldn't have stormed out of Dr. H's office, but hey…she pissed me off. How the hell did she make that leap to John being my sex buddy? I mean c'mon what is she psychic or something? And if so, what the hell am I talking to her for, she should already know what I'm thinking and just fix me.

Yeah, that's right, it's all her fault. You couldn't possibly have over-reacted to the 'a' word, now could you?

Shut up, Jax!

And what's up with her and that friggin' hypnosis crap. She's gotta know it'll never work on me. As Jack's fond of saying, "I'm not the cluck like a dog, bark like a chicken type." How many different ways can I say 'no'?

I stop short, looking up and down the corridor. I'm completely alone, but I get the sense someone is around. It happens a lot in this place. Kind of like Big Brother is always on the look out. How creepy is that? It reminds me of being in protective custody, stuck in one of the fed buildings until they got me set up in some rat-trap apartment.

And now my gut's all clenched up, thanks for the trip down memory lane! I need something… intangible. I can feel it, but I don't know what it is. Chocolate? No. Caffeine? Not allowed to have anymore. Skating? Nah, don't feel like it.

What? Yeah, that's weird. I don't feel like skating? Since when? Since this freaking head pounding refuses to stop! Okay, ignore it. It'll go away; it always does sooner or later.

But, still, I'm missing something. Ah hell. I think the doc's wrong. I am nutsola. Okay, close the eyes and count to ten, maybe whatever it is will pop into my mind. One, two, three-

Suddenly I fall forward before I get my eyes open. Okay, I'm supposed to be this graceful athlete. Huh, not so much recently because I totally do a face plant in the middle of an Atlantis hallway because someone just rammed into me. It's like I have no balance at all.

"Jax!" Dr. McKay says as I roll over onto my back. He offers me his hand and I take it. "I'm…well…what were you doing just standing there?"

Oh, so it's my fault he plowed right into me? "Just standing there. What were you doing running through the city?" See, I knew someone was around. When I learned to sense others nearby, Ryan used to tell me my whiskers were twitching…like a cat's. I kind of like that metaphor actually. Cats are solitary, slinky, mysterious… and allowed to be cranky whenever they damn well feel like it. Cat's are cool!

"I wasn't-" he waves a hand. "It's not important. Anyway, I'm glad I ran into you."

"Literally." I'm dripping with sarcasm, still waiting for an apology, but I should know better than to expect one. I should call up Cadman…we can tape him to a chair again. I grin at the thought, which McKay of course takes as a sign that I actually want to speak with him.

"Yes, well. It's nothing urgent. I just thought you might like to know I finished translating the text about the…uh…Ancient-"

"Pheromone doohickey?"

He snaps his fingers. "Yes. That. I really need to come up with a name for that thing. I miss Ford. He used to name things for me."

My brows cinch. "Yeah. That's a good reason to miss him."

He nods, either completely ignoring or just not getting my not-so-subtle barb. "Anyway, it's all good. It does exactly what we thought." He cocks his head a little and his blue eyes shimmer with something he's not saying…that's not always a bad thing, but in this case, I'm not sure I want him holding back. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"No residual…I mean to say…you haven't been…"

"Spit it out McKay."

"No nausea, weight loss, sleeplessness, fatigue or headaches, I take it?"

Okay, now my alarm bells are going off like one of those screeching Piccolo Petes on the Fourth of July. "What?"

He waves a hand again. "It's nothing. Never mind." He tries to skip by me, but I grab his arm and squeeze, making him wince. He pulls his arm free and rubs the spot. "Ow." Such a wuss.

"Why would you ask about that stuff? Are you telling me exposure to that thing's gonna give me a brain tumor or something?"

"Don't be so dramatic, of course not. I don't…think. No, they would have mentioned something about… Why? Are you having any of those...?"

"No…why?"

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I really have to go now. I have an important meeting. Not to say you aren't important…what I mean to say-"

I wave a hand. "Save it."

He bobs his head. "Saving it." And rushes down the corridor. Such a strange man.

Now…what to do about getting to that report…Could've just asked. Well, where's the fun in that? Besides, he might wonder why and if he finds out I lied, he'll run straight to Dr. Beckett and it'll be needles all around for me. No thanks.

It's just a coincidence anyway. Right? I don't have any of the other things.

I'd give it some thought, but my brain refuses to cooperate. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. Headaches, my ass. This is a full blown migraine. If this is some kind of after effect of that damn thing, I'm gonna kill someone. Probably McKay!

That unknown craving is still with me, but the headache's getting worse so I move to the nearest transporter, intent on getting a nap. Maybe my insomnia is taking its toll finally.

~ 4.5 ~

John leaves the infirmary after Carson gives him the all clear. His elbow doesn't hurt, but does look pretty nasty all bruised up. Teyla kicked his ass today…again. Good thing it wasn't Ronon wanting to spar with him. His head couldn't handle the beating. It's bad enough he can feel the guy's 'evil eye' on him daily, watching him carefully for any sign that he's been doing naughty things to Jax. Mmm, Jax. I wonder…?

The pounding in his head becomes a conga. Maybe I'm coming down with something. He's been feeling sluggish for the past day, ever since returning from P3X-734. What a dustbowl. Nothing on that heap except sand and more sand.

Rodney was sure they'd find a ZPM there… because he'd found the coordinates while working on something related to it. Apparently the Ancients used the planet as their version of an alpha site. Unfortunately, whatever had been on the planet was lost, probably due to some cataclysmic event that changed the place into the Pegasus Galaxy's version of the Sahara Desert.

He needs another shower. Sand manages to get everywhere. And maybe a couple aspirin wouldn't hurt. He should've asked Carson. No, bad idea. Carson knows John has a high pain tolerance, so asking for even the mildest aid would light up the Bat signal for the Scot. He might even want to run tests.

John grimaces at the thought. He's spent too much time in that place since coming to Atlantis.

He heads to his quarters, walking faster as he gets closer, until finally he breaks into a jog. He hits the door panel and sees Jax sitting on his bed, clutching her head in her hands. She looks up and her face softens. The moment she rises, he's on her. They're all hands and lips, fingers and tongues. They tear off each others shirts in a frenzy of gasps, moans and grunts. Her bra falls to the side and his hands automatically fondle her. She's so beautiful, warm and…his. He's instantly ready for her. He grabs her face with both hands. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," she gushes, her eyes full of passion.

And he kisses her hard, bruising her lips, taking her breath.

He yanks her pants down and forcefully spins her then pushes her onto the bed. She lands on all fours, her pants trapping her ankles. He doesn't even bother to finish undressing, he can't wait. He unzips and releases himself. He has to have her now. John leans fully over her, his mouth against her ear and he growls with hunger. "You're mine."

"Yes," she gasps, her body trembling beneath him.

And he takes her hard, fast with unyielding power. He can't help it. He has to have her, as if his life depends on this moment, the feel of her surrounding him, taking him in. Grasping her hips, digging his fingers into her tender flesh, he repeatedly plunges inside but she doesn't resist, she's hot and ready for him and that arouses him even more. She pushes against him, letting him in deeper…all the way. She's his and no one else can have her.

He knows something's wrong with him. This isn't right. This isn't how he does things, how they do things. But he can't stop. He drives hard, furiously. It…feels…so…good!

Violently, he flips her over and she lands on her back, her breath catching. He tears her pants all the way off and then he's on top of her, inside her again. His hands grasp at her breasts, squeezing and pinching. His mouth follows and he's drowning in the taste of her skin, the smell of her body. He's intoxicated by her screaming his name.

It's all about him. His pleasure. His release deep inside her.

He can't stop. Doesn't. Want. To. Stop! Even as his mind yells at him that this is horribly wrong.

"Johnny!"

Her cry pushes him over the edge. "Mine," he howls, collapsing on top of her, shaking with unimaginable pleasure, trapping her beneath his weight.

Feeling her struggling to breathe, John rolls off and lies on his back. They both stare up at the ceiling, their rapid breaths slowing.

"Well," she sighs.

"That was-"

"Different," she finishes.

John rubs his hands over his face. He's shaking. He can't comprehend what just happened. How he let it happen. How she let him do that. He can't look at her. He's actually afraid to look at her. What if this changes things? What if she's afraid of him now? He wouldn't blame her. Couldn't blame her.

He licks his lips. He's got cotton mouth so bad, he can't even swallow. Without a word, he rolls off the bed, adjusts his pants and goes into the bathroom. He downs a glass of water then splashes more onto his face, rubbing his hands hard against his eyes. What the hell was that? Who am I? He can't imagine what she thinks of him. He…God…what is wrong with me?

"John?" He spins before he can stop himself. She's leaning in the door, wearing his shirt, arms folded beneath her breasts, looking as gorgeous as ever, but her eyes hold something new. Worry. "Did I do something wrong?"

How can she ask that? Of course not. It was him. All him. But none of that comes out; he just stares at her, trying to understand how she could be so calm after what he did to her, how he treated her, like she was nothing more than his property.

He turns from her, grasping the sides of the sink, his arms ache as he clenches all his muscles until they quiver with exertion. He can't bring himself to look in the mirror so he hangs his head and closes his eyes tight. Time slips by as his brain twists and turns over the last fifteen minutes.

Say something, you idiot! She's waiting.

He finally turns to talk to her but she's gone. John goes into the bedroom. She's not there.

Shit!

Her clothes are gone, but so is his shirt so he grabs another from the closet and rushes out as he pulls it on. The corridor is dark, the city set to slumber through the night. Only the evening patrol in the Gate Room should be up at this late hour.

He heads for the transporter. He can't be too far behind her, maybe a few minutes…he hopes. How long was I in there? He can't be sure. Doesn't matter. He'll make it to her room and apologize, beg for forgiveness even. He doesn't want her to be mad, let alone feel like she did something wrong.

How can she possibly think that?

Because that's what she does. She blames herself for anything that goes wrong. It's actually part of her charm, in a strange and annoying way.

John runs his hands through his hair. This is so crazy. I'm acting crazy. His heart's racing as he pushes the section that will take him towards Jax quarters. He runs down the hall, the slap of his shoes the only sound until her door opens just before he arrives.

She's standing in the frame, wearing her robe, arms crossed protectively around her middle. He slows as he gets closer, the look in her eyes inscrutable. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But she's waiting for him, expecting him even. He bows his head as he comes inside and she lets the door close.

John drops heavily onto the edge of her bed, hanging his head as he rests his elbows on his knees. "Angie-"

She holds up a hand. "Jax, please."

"Okay. Jax. I…how…" He has no idea what to say. He was so harsh…brutal even. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" She asks.

He lifts his eyes and sees her confusion. "How I just treated you."

She blinks. Once. Twice. Her brows crease and she slides her gaze to the floor then locks it onto his again. Understanding flashes in her eyes and she opens her mouth to say something then decides against it. She bites her bottom lip then takes a step toward him and reaches for his hand. She links her fingers with his then straddles his lap, forcing eye contact. "I don't know how to say this," she starts.

"Usually words help."

She smirks at that then licks her lips, catching her bottom one in her teeth again. "You were exactly what I wanted…needed even." It's his turn to look confused, shocked. Her free hand rummages through his hair; he loves it when she touches him. It's like tiny electric shocks straight through his body. "Before you came into your room, my mind was screaming at me. I had this horrible raging headache…and the only thought I had was…" She shakes her head, pulling her eyes from his. "I can't believe I'm going to say this." John lifts her chin so he can see her. "I want John to just take me and fuck the pain away." She blushes even as she grins. "And boy did you."

With all the activity, he'd forgotten about his headache too. He no longer had it.

"Afterward…" She drops her eyes again. Her fingers slip from his and she plays with the collar of his shirt. "You were so angry. I thought…I don't know what I thought. I figured I'd done something, maybe said something I didn't remember."

John rests his hands on her waist. "I was angry. At myself."

Her eyes find his again. "Why?"

"Because…I was afraid I'd-"

"What? Hurt me?" John raises his brows, nodding. Jax smiles lightly, shaking her head. "You can't." Her eyes narrow, holding his. "I won't let you."

She's not just talking physically, that much is obvious by her piercing stare. He should feel relief that she's so honest and so open to their 'complications-free' arrangement or that she's not afraid of a bit of animal in her partner—though he still doesn't know where that came from—and that she's not going to ask for more than he's offering. But there is something about her statement that leaves him chilly.

He really doesn't know this woman. Can't know her. Because she won't allow it. And for some reason, that really bothers him.

She's watching him intensely. "You think something's wrong with me. With us."

"What do you mean?"

Shifting slightly on his lap, she tilts her head, considering him. She doesn't seem to notice that her robe has fallen open, but he does…he can't help it. And he can't help the fresh desire starting to build inside him at the sight of her luscious skin. It's calling to him. So he answers the call.

She gasps as soon as his mouth covers her free breast and he groans at the taste of her. She's trying to say something but it comes out as a murmur. "He said…headaches and mmm." The hand in his hair pulls him closer and she starts rocking in his lap, sliding against him. John pushes the robe off her shoulders, devouring her with his eyes before finding the next sweet peek to attack.

"You are so good at distracting me," she moans, both hands now in his hair.

John leans back on the bed, smoothly rolling over until she's under him. "Like wise." He catches her lips for a long, slow kiss, letting his hands take care of the impeding robe. Then he strips quickly so he can get back to his explorations. He wants to know every inch of her body. And he plans on taking his time.