AN: Just a quick note to say that the comments about Shep being put through the wringer...well, we're whumpers, peoples, it's what we do! We are guilty of whumping in the first degree...and second...and third, and well, if you stick around long enough, I'm sure we can go pretty high. Thanks again for reading and commenting and giving your time to this little story (well, maybe not so little anymore). We do appreciate all the comments, and the insight given by many of you. Sometimes comments make me think about an angle I didn't even consider, so keep it coming!

NOT THE DADDY...part 22

Pregnancy clock: 7 months, 1 week

John was bored. No, scratch that. He had passed bored about three days ago and Rodney was not helping matters any. Nor did it make him feel better that Dreya was up and about again while he was stuck in bed. Bored.

"Want to play chess?" Rodney asked. Then he turned away and sneezed. Loudly.

"No." John folded his arms over his chest and did his best not to pout. Then added grumpily, "Bless you."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "You really are five years old, aren't you? Gin Rummy?"

John plucked at the bed covers. "I want to talk to Caldwell." Caldwell who was back on Atlantis and totally taking over John's job. He had been off on the Daedalus during the take over but had arrived back the day after the take over.

"Why would you want to talk to Caldwell?" Rodney countered, looking nervous. "You hate the man."

"I don't hate him," John groused. Because he didn't. He just didn't like him all that much. Big difference, which John did not feel the need to point out to the resident genius.

Rodney made a face. "Do you want to watch a movie? We got a new shipment when the Daedalus returned."

John considered then shook his head. "I'm not in the mood."

"Then what do you want to do?" Rodney was clearly frustrated and he wasn't hiding it.

"I want to talk to Caldwell," John repeated, speaking slowly and clearly so that Rodney would get the hint this time.

Rodney sighed dramatically then blurted out, "He's busy."

Suspicion flicked John right between the eyes. "Rodney?" he drawled, as he shifted to sit up straighter against the piles of pillows that were mounded behind his back. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" Rodney winced, knowing he had given himself away. "Why do you want to see Caldwell anyway?"

"Because Weir won't tell me what's going on with the prisoners. Nor will Teyla or Ronon or YOU!" John let his frustration out full force as he glared at Rodney.

Rodney just glared back. "That's because Beckett told us we weren't to upset you upon pain of death, you moron!"

John felt a twinge of satisfaction at Rodney's reply. "Now he was getting somewhere. "And why would telling me about the prisoners upset me?" he prompted.

"Because of the whole...death by mass suicide via cyanide capsule in the tooth scenario," Rodney stated. "Only it wasn't cyanide, it was some other kind of poison and...oh no." Rodney trailed off and looked miserable as he realized what he had just said.

"Suicide?" John stared at Rodney in disbelief. "All of them? But did they say who they were? Who had sent them? Anything?"

Rodney sat down at the foot of the bed and buried his face in his hands. "I am so dead," he mumbled into his palms. "Just kill me now."

John poked him with his foot, which was not easy to do since his legs were buried under piles of covers and Rodney was sitting on the end of the blankets. "I'm not stressed," he said firmly. Which was mostly the truth. He was stunned and upset and angry, but he was trying his best to remain calm for Traitor's sake.

"They said nothing," Rodney confessed, lifting his head to lock eyes with John. "They killed themselves immediately after they all woke up."

"Sonofabitch!" John pulled at the covers, wanting to get up and pace. Wanting to punch the wall. Wanted to do SOMETHING. Anything.

Rodney blocked him. "What do you think you're doing?"

John knew he couldn't lay there a minute longer. "I have to pee." Which was actually true. "Then I'm going to take a shower."

"No shower," Rodney shot back.

"Beckett said I can take one short shower every other day," John shot back. Which he hated. He liked taking at least one shower a day. Not that he needed one a day at the moment. He didn't do anything to work up a sweat.

Rodney opened his mouth to argue but snapped it closed. "Fine. Shower. But keep it short. While you're in there I'll go get you something to eat."

John made a face. "I just ate lunch an hour ago."

"Your point being?" Rodney replied, then he rolled his eyes at the pitiful look John aimed at him. "Puhleez. You know Beckett is trying to fatten you up." He reached out and poked a finger at John's bicep. "Not that it's working. You're still skin and bones."

"I am not!" John protested, vehemently. He was tired of everyone picking on him for being lean. It had been the bane of his childhood existence and had followed him into adulthood. "I've just got a good metabolism," John said, feeling the need to defend himself.

Rodney shrugged. "Whatever makes you feel better about yourself," he allowed. Then he was hovering over John as he got up and headed for the bathroom.

John pinned him with a glare. "I can walk to the bathroom by myself, Rodney. Go away."

"Fine...be that way!" Rodney groused. "I'll be back in ten minutes and I expect to find you back in bed. Got it?"

John's reply was the middle finger tossed over his shoulder. He knew Rodney didn't take anything he said, or did, to heart. They both knew he was cranky and that it was only going to get worse. Beckett was still insisting that John would be stuck in bed for at least another two weeks. He was pretty sure he'd be considering hari kari long before then.

Once in the bathroom, John took care of business then he stripped, trying to ignore the pull in his belly where a uterus would be IF he were really pregnant. He rubbed the spot as he thought the water on then stepped in and luxuriated in the feel of the warm, wet, spray. But John knew enough not to linger. Rodney would be on his case and not back off. So he washed up quickly, got dressed in clean boxers and sweatpants with a t-shirt and socks and padded back into the other room. Only to freeze in surprise to see Dreya there. "Aren't you supposed to be resting...in bed?"

"I've been released from bed rest," Dreya reminded him.

He remembered, and it only made him more irritable. "Are you sure it's okay?" John questioned. Although she did look good. Glowing and happy.

Dreya nodded. "I am sure. Remember, John...you are the one who suffers for me. Which, again, I cannot thank you enough for accepting this."

John sighed and ran his fingers through his damp hair. "Yeah...well...it's not like I have a choice." He smiled as he spoke. They had reached a point, without him really noticing when, where they could talk about this and John no longer got angry. He really had accepted it. Not that he was happy about it. Less so when Dreya gestured for him to get back in bed, which he did with ill grace. Then Dreya was bringing over the lap tray with a huge sandwich and a giant glass of milk on it. John was surprised. "Where's Rodney?"

"He got called to his lab. I was passing by and he sent me along with the tray and with strict orders to take care of you." Dreya was grinning as she fussed with the covers.

"Figures." John ignored the sandwich but took a swig of milk, then he gestured to the tray. "Can you set it aside. I'm really not hungry right now."

Dreya pointed to the cup of blue Jell-o. "Not even for your favorite?" she prompted.

John grimaced and poked the wiggly substance. "I'm really starting to hate that stuff," he confessed. He leaned back to let Dreya take the tray, then he started crumpling the bed spread in his fingers. There wasn't much else to do.

"Can I get you anything?" Dreya asked, moving to sit in the chair next to the bed.

"Nothing," John assured her. "Just talk to me. I'm going stir crazy." He saw her quizzical look and explained,"It's just an expression. Basically...I'm ready to climb the walls with boredom."

Dreya nodded, one hand reaching out to grasp his and squeeze. "Would you like me to sing to you?" she asked.

John was surprised by her offer. "You sing? Cool. Sure...sing away." He was tired of the music on his Ipod anyway. So when Dreya started singing in a soft and beautiful voice, John let his eyes drift closed so he could better focus on the words. He realized she was telling a story of her people, that she was giving him a history lesson, in a sense. John smiled to himself as he let his body relax and, eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

OoO

Rodney was sleeping. Snoring like a chain saw and John wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste. He slid out of bed and padded, silently, over to the door. But even as he reached for the door pad a voice screamed in his ear,

"What the hell are you doing out of bed and where the hell do you think you're going?" Rodney was right behind him and furious. "Get back in bed! Right now!" He nudged John in the right direction.

John thought about resisting but he knew Rodney would call in reinforcements. "I can't stand this room!" John snapped, even as he let Rodney push him back down onto the bed and cover him up. "I'm going to go crazy if I can't get out of here!" And he meant it.

Rodney looked angry but thoughtful. "I may be able to do something about that," he allowed.

"Really?" John was hopeful. "What?"

"Go back to sleep, you'll see in the morning." Rodney fussed with the covers then glared. "If you're good." He suddenly turned away and sneezed, three times in succession. "Stupid allergies," he mumbled.

John just glared back then closed his eyes. He'd be good. Anything to get out of this room.

OoO

Rodney was true to his word. After breakfast he took off, looking a bit distressed. But he promised to be back shortly with John's surprise. Fifteen minutes later the door opened.

John stared as Ronon entered the room, pushing a wheel chair. "You're kidding me, right?" John stared at the chair then up at Ronon.

"Nope." Ronon patted the back of the chair. "McKay got called away so he asked me to take you out. You get one hour. Get in."

"I'm not getting in a wheel chair." John folded his arms and tightened his jaw.

Ronon shrugged. "Okay." He turned to go.

John grimaced and called him back. "Wait!" Sliding out of bed he settled himself in the chair, hating how being in it made him feel fragile and weak. He heaved a sigh. "Okay...let's go."

"Okay." Ronon pushed him out the door. "Where do you want to go?"

"Outside." John was dying for fresh air and sunshine. He found himself grinning the closer they got to the nearest balcony and once there he made to rise only to find a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Ronon stared down at him. "Stay or you go back."

John pouted but it had no effect on the big guy. So he stayed. "Beautiful day," John commented, as he sucked in lungfuls of sea air.

"Yeah." Ronon moved to stand by the railing. "You okay?" he asked, suddenly.

"Sure." John realized what Ronon was asking. "Can't wait till this is all over, but...I'm good." He could feel the intensity of Ronon's stare, then the other man was nodding. Accepting John's word as truth.

They spent the next half hour just enjoying the view, enjoying quiet time which John found to be strangely invigorating. Only to have it interrupted by Rodney who bustled out onto to the balcony with an armful of blanket. Which he spread out over John's lap.

John slapped at his hands. "I'm not some fucking invalid, Rodney!" he snapped. He really was tired of the man fussing over him.

"It's cold out here!" Rodney slapped back and continued fussing, then he looked at Ronon. "You can go now."

Ronon shrugged, sent John a sympathetic look, then left.

John sighed and was about to yell at Rodney, instead he said quietly, "Thank you." He knew Rodney was just looking out for him and the baby.

"You're welcome," Rodney said, then he sneezed.

THE END...of part 22