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Title: Bloodlust
Author: Chaps1870
Pairing: McShep
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Vampire AU
Chapter Four
Morning came too early and John wasn’t sure he’d even fallen asleep when he began to hear the muted sounds of people moving about outside the door. Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and glanced down at Rodney, still oblivious to anything. Reaching out, he grabbed a shoulder and shook it.
Rodney jerked away and slurred, “L’ve m‘lone.”
“Come on, McKay. We can’t be late our first day of school.” John shifted on the bed and slipped his feet into his shoes before grabbing a drink of water to wash away the night’s taste in his mouth. The room reeked of sickness that he hadn’t noticed the night before.
The smell of it must have hit Rodney about the same time. He paled noticeably and quickly put on his own shoes before stumbling towards the door. Stopping a minute, Rodney looked self-conscious as he vigorously rubbed his arms and face, removing the last traces of dead skin. John looked away until Rodney finished, saving him further embarrassment.
Opening the door, Rodney entered the hallway, then gestured to the door as John started to close it. “Um, you might want to leave that open.”
John nodded and countered cheekily, “I’m not cleaning that up. We paid good money to stay here.”
“Next time I get to book the reservations. The accommodations here really suck,” retorted Rodney, stepping aside to let a few of the other prisoners by. They were speaking quietly and barely gave the new arrivals a passing glance.
He and John followed behind, both men quieting as they exited the barracks. It was still dark, but movement could be heard all around the camp as everyone began to stir and face a new day. The prisoners seemed to move about freely, talking amongst themselves as they all headed in the same general direction.
No guards were in evidence, but it was too dark to really see if they were around or not. John whispered to Rodney as they followed the crowd, “They don’t seem too worried about someone escaping.”
Rodney huffed, “And why should they? They have a carnival game right in their own backyard. They just wait for the ducks to pop their heads up over the sand dune. High score gets the stuffed monkey.”
“So, plan A is a bust,” drawled John, pushing Rodney into the food line.
Eyes wide as he turned to stare at Sheppard, Rodney replied, aghast, “You weren’t seriously considering a return across Death Valley? If they didn’t pick us off in the first ten yards, we’d die of thirst before the day was out.”
John rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t die of thirst in one day, McKay.”
“You don’t know that,” huffed Rodney, following the lead of the other prisoners and grabbing a bowl and spoon as they shuffled down the line of servers. The food was served quickly and the line moved fast. John and Rodney hesitated after their bowls were filled with some sort of soupy grain and given a piece of bread. There were tables all around and there didn’t seem to be any sort of seating arrangement so they found an empty table and sat down.
Sniffing his food, Rodney shrugged and began eating. He’d eaten several bites before he spoke, “Not bad.” He proceeded to inhale his food in his normal fashion.
John had to agree. It faired better than some of the food he’d eaten during his time in the military. Okay, that wasn’t saying much, but it was still more than he expected from a prison camp. Nothing about the whole set up really made sense and as far as John could tell, he and McKay had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’d been caught in the crossfire between two warring parties and been swept up with the other prisoners. It was free labor no matter how you looked at it. This wasn’t Earth. Survival was based on who came out alive, not how you got there. As they ate, other men joined them until they were surrounded.
John glanced at the man across from him, noting the weathered face and hardened expression. He pulled his bowl closer and smiled, “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
The big man snarled back, “Gimme your bread.”
Picking up his bread, John leaned it towards McKay as he smirked, “Want my bread?”
Rodney lifted his head and frowned, having missed the exchange, too busy inhaling his food. He shrugged innocently, “Thanks.” Tearing off a chunk, he noticed the man across from them and stopped mid chew. He leaned into Sheppard and whispered, loud enough to be overheard, “Who’s the ugly guy?”
“He wanted your bread. He doesn’t know about your vindictive streak,” quipped John, never taking his eyes off the man.
The others around them, worried for their own safety, slowly moved away, leaving only the three of them. Rodney swallowed and ducked his head. Taking another bite, he smirked, “I can see that ugly is obviously universal. Which of course makes me wonder if the dull expression normally associated with stupid is a constant in this galaxy as well.” Making sure John still had his eyes straight ahead, Rodney lifted his head and smiled at the man, eyeteeth gleaming. His voice was low and purposeful as he asked menacingly, “You’re not stupid are you?”
The man blanched and his eyes widened. Stuttering an apology, he left his bowl and hurried away. John stared after him and looked sharply at Rodney, who was calmly taking another bite of bread. Rodney shrugged, “What?”
They stared at one another for several seconds before realization dawned and John asked uncertainly, suppressing a shudder. “Don’t tell me you can just turn it off and on like that.”
Rodney shrugged, “Okay, I won’t.”
John cringed and Rodney noticed, his face falling. Shoulders slumping, Rodney ducked his head, hiding the heat that suffused his face. When John remained silent, Rodney stood up, grabbing his bowl. Stammering, he gestured to John’s empty bowl, “You want me to take that?”
Shaking his head, John stared at the empty bowl, chastising himself for reacting as he did. As Rodney moved off, he shook it off and quickly got to his feet to follow. Catching up, he spoke more harshly than he intended as he grabbed for Rodney, “Don’t be going off on your own.”
“I can take care of myself, Colonel,” snapped Rodney, raising his chin in defiance.
John motioned to where they’d been sitting and hissed through gritted teeth, “We don’t need you drawing attention to us, McKay.”
Rodney lifted his chin. “Oh right, like a fight with He-Man over there wouldn’t have brought the guards down on us.”
“This isn’t the place for you to start showing off,” growled John, his anger growing at Rodney’s sudden confidence.
Stopping mid step, Rodney turned sharply on him, the hurt plainly visible. “Is that what you think?” He shook his head. “You’re the one that wanted the truth. Wanted to see the real me. Well, take a good look, Colonel, because I’m tired of hiding.” He walked off without another word.
*******
John spent the next four hours being totally pissed at himself as he watched Rodney toiling in the hot sun. They’d gotten separated after their tiff and before John could catch up they’d been marched to the worksite a mile away and put to work. It was a large open pit mine and the workers were strung out for several hundred yards, each working a small section of the pit with only a chisel and hammer. Rodney had been put to work about twenty men down from John. When he’d tried moving out of line to join Rodney, John had received a couple new whip marks. He took his rightful place, trying to ignore the fear in Rodney’s eyes as he’d been forced to walk past his friend.
Turned out they were mining for the little glow balls that illuminated their room the night before. Each time a prisoner would find one, a guard would appear, trading the bobble for a drink of water and a token. When the man beside him pulled one out of the rocks and received his token, John waited for the guard to leave before asking, “What’s the token for?”
The dirty miner answered, “It is how we pay for what we need.”
John raised an eyebrow, continuing his work. “Food?”
“No, they will feed you as long as you work. The pay is incentive to work harder. It is nice to have an extra meal sometimes or an extra blanket when the weather turns cold.”
The man on the other side chimed in, smiling, “There is even brew if you wish to spend your money on it.”
John talked amiably with his workmates, discussing the ins and outs of the camp. It seemed they were given run of the camp. Anyone caught trying to escape was shot on sight. Many of the prisoners were content to have a couple meals a day in return for their labor. Life in the Pegasus galaxy was such that even the simplest mind could comprehend a good thing when they saw it.
The natives called themselves Telosians and had an early warning system to combat the Wraith problem. With enough warning they could vanish into the deeper mines to escape culling. They knew the tunnels far better than the Wraith and after years of outwitting them, the Wraith had given up, although, the last two years had brought an occasional visit from the white ones.
They lived an isolated existence, mining the light balls and using them to trade for whatever they needed. The balls brought a high price on most worlds and the Telosians didn’t lack for much. In return, they treated their workers with a modicum of decency. They were obviously smart enough to realize that they couldn’t have one without the other.
It was close to evening before John hit paydirt, finding his own glow ball. The water was a welcome relief to his parched throat. He was grateful that Rodney had found a couple. At least he’d gotten some water. The work and the sun were taking a terrible toll on Rodney. He was at a spot in the quarry that held no relief from the sun. Even from a distance, John could see that Rodney wasn’t doing well. They’d gotten water and a piece of bread for the noonday meal, not nearly enough to ward off Rodney’s low blood sugar.
The sun was sinking low before the guards signaled quitting time. John sighed in relief, he hurt all over. The heavy hammer and chisel pulled at his back and shoulders and his hands were covered in blisters. As much as he hurt, all he could think of was Rodney, who was leaning heavily against the quarry wall, chin resting on his chest.
It was a long single file walk back to camp. John vowed that tomorrow he would be working next to McKay even if he had to tie him to his wrist to keep him from wandering off.
As they passed some invisible line near the encampment the men broke off, wandering off in all directions. It was full dark and John waited impatiently for Rodney to appear. Rodney spared him a brief look before they followed the workers towards the food line. “Hell of a vacation spot.” He waved his hands tiredly. “The sand, the sun, the sand. Have I mentioned the sun?” bemoaned Rodney with his typical sarcasm.
John didn’t need to be reminded of the sun with the blisters on Rodney’s arms and face, and the back of his neck. He looked even worse than the day before, if that was possible. Aware of John’s scrutiny, Rodney crossed his arms in an attempt to hide them, but ended up wincing under his own touch. Looking miserable, Rodney’s shoulders slumped and he dropped his arms. “Sorry.”
Taken aback, John frowned, “Huh?”
Rodney shrugged, “Nothing. Never mind.”
Having spotted a fountain where they could get a drink and clean up, John pulled Rodney into the throng of men. Cupping his hands, he drank deeply, watching as Rodney did the same. They washed off some of the dirt but their clothes were coated with the powder fine rock dust from the mines. John slipped off his shirt and shook out the worst of it. Rodney wandered to the closest bench surrounding the area and sat down. Donning his shirt in a hurry, John joined him.
The ache that gripped his heart seeing Rodney so run down came as a surprise. A day away from Rodney was worse than he’d imagined. He’d watched helplessly as Rodney struggled in the hot sun. Concerned, he asked, “You okay?”
Nodding, Rodney’s voice was weary, “Not really, no.” He sighed and got up, looking down at Sheppard, “I need to eat. You coming?”
“Yeah.” Pushing himself to his feet, he fell into step beside Rodney.
As they stepped into the food line, John could see how badly Rodney’s hands were shaking as he held out his bowl to be filled. It was stew like the night before, but Rodney barely noticed. With food in hand they found the same seats from the morning. Rodney sat down heavily, took one look at his stew and shoved it towards John. With an elbow on the table he rested his head in his hand, nibbling on his bread. John was starting to worry Rodney would fall asleep between one bite and the next and end up choking. Finishing his supper, John helped him back to their room. If John touching him hurt, he didn’t say anything.
Before Rodney could collapse on the bed, John suggested, “If you get out of those clothes I’ll shake the dust out.”
Standing in the middle of room, Rodney was swaying on his feet. John wasn’t sure if he’d heard him or not. Moving to stand in front of him, he said softly, “Let me help you with your shirt.”
Rodney, lifting his head, stared blankly at him. John repeated himself and got a weak nod. Shoulders slumped, Rodney just stood there and let John undress him, lifting his arms and legs when asked. Covered in a cold sweat and trembling by the time they were done, John led him to bed and sat beside him. He’d never seen Rodney so beaten down, sick or quiet and it tore at him to see him suffering.
Taking a chance, he let his hand rest on Rodney’s arm, above the blistering. Sighing inwardly, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed touching Rodney. His fingers caressed lightly, hopeful Rodney wouldn’t pull away. He really needed to take the clothes out and get some fresh water but he couldn’t make himself let go. It was easy to convince himself to wait until Rodney fell asleep.
That night was no better than the night before. Worse actually. John woke to find Rodney sitting hunched in the corner, frantically rubbing his arms and face. Approaching slowly, so as not to startle him, he whispered, “Rodney.”
Rodney’s head shot up, his face puffy and red. “Go away.”
Ignoring him, John scooted closer, his hand instinctively dropping on Rodney’s back. His T-shirt was soaked. John could feel his muscles tensing under his hand. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking his head, Rodney tried to pull away, his voice was high pitched, “Freak, freak, freak. Nobody likes a freak.” His breathing was fast, shallow as he continued rubbing his arms, refusing to look at John.
“You’re not a freak,” said John, quietly, unable to hide the shame he felt for making Rodney think he was or the rising fear that the hypoglycemia was causing his friend’s breakdown.
Lifting his head, Rodney rambled, his voice rising, “I am. You’re afraid of me. I saw it. I saw the fear in your eyes. Can’t hide the fear. Everybody hates the freak.” Rodney’s voice rose with every word, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I don’t hate you, Rodney,” replied John, his hand rubbing Rodney’s back in circles as he tried to calm him down.
Rodney nodded anxiously, “I lost you because of what I am.”
John couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to and he reached out, pulling Rodney into his chest, holding him close. He dropped his head to Rodney’s shoulder, “You haven’t lost me, okay. It’s your hypoglycemia talking.”
“It’s making babble like an idiot.” He slumped further in John’s arms, sniffing. “I hate this.”
Unsure what to say that would help, John asked hesitantly, “You want the bread I saved.”
Rodney convulsed, swallowed hard and moaned, “Don’t mention food.”
John winced, forgetting that Rodney was probably sicker tonight than last night after spending the entire day in the sun. “Sorry.”
It was too late. Rodney bolted and his back heaved as he lost the meager contents of his stomach. John closed his eyes tight to regain his own stomach then followed, holding Rodney up as the sickness continued. It seemed to go on forever before Rodney slumped in his arms, totally exhausted. After much prodding, John managed to get him away from the mess and onto the bed where he forced him to eat and drink some water. Rodney barely finished before he was sound asleep.
John slipped behind him and wrapped a protective arm around him as he slept. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it for Rodney’s sake or his own. It was hard to keep his distance when everything screamed at him to offer comfort. Show that he still cared. He realized that his feelings for Rodney really hadn’t changed. Deep down, John still loved him despite all his misgivings about him being a vampire. He just didn’t want to hurt Rodney any more than he already had by pulling away as he had. Giving in too soon, without all the facts and then freaking again might be more than either of them could repair.
**************
Two more days of the sun and barely eating, Rodney was deteriorating rapidly. John had used what money they’d made to find him a long sleeve shirt. It helped some, but not enough to prevent the awful sickness at night. He wasn’t getting enough food as it was and the vomiting only weakened him further. Rodney was no longer bouncing back after a meal and the guards were taking notice of the fact that he wasn’t doing his share of the work. John was working harder to take up the slack, slipping Rodney every other ball he found to keep the guards at bay and keep him hydrated during the day. In the four days since their capture, Rodney had easily dropped ten pounds.
John could no longer deny his feelings for Rodney. The vampire thing didn’t mean a thing as he watched him struggling to survive what should have been an easy internment. Rodney did his best not to complain, unusual for Rodney but the effort it took was a testament to how poorly he was feeling.
The fifth night, John held him in his arms, begging, “Just hang on, buddy. They’ll find us soon.”
Rodney was shaking, his voice weak when he spoke, “I’m dying.”
“No, you’ll be fine.”
“Not this time,” huffed Rodney, almost smiling, accepting his fate.
John took a deep breath, his voice wavering nervously, “Would my blood help?”
Eyes fluttering, trying to open, Rodney sighed, “Can’t.”
John snapped back, angrily, “Can’t or won’t.”
“Won’t,” whispered Rodney, his voice faltering.
“Don’t be so damn stubborn about this, Rodney. I know what you are. It doesn’t bother me.”
“It should,” said Rodney, the effort to speak tiring, but needing to talk, “You don’t know.” He took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Then tell me. Make me understand. Then I can decide,” insisted John, tightening his hold. His hands were shaking as he caressed Rodney’s chest where his arms wrapped around him. He already knew what decision he would make, because losing Rodney wasn’t an option any more. This was a close as he ever wanted to be.
Rodney took several seconds to answer, his voice slower as he spoke, “If I were to feed on you, you’d be mine.”
“Huh?”
“The bloodlust…it takes away my control.” Rodney was drifting, his breathing slow.
John felt his gut clenching in fear and he shook him awake, afraid if he slept now he’d never wake. “I don’t care, Rodney. I won’t let you die if I have a way to save you. You can feed on me if that’s what it takes.”
Rodney’s eyes fluttered open and he stared up at John. They couldn’t hide his feelings any better than the rest of him and John’s breath hitched. Rodney tried to smile, his eyes closing again. His voice was barely audible as he whispered, “No.”
Going limp in his arms, John panicked. “Rodney.” His heart raced as his fingers fumbled for a pulse. It was there, but just barely, slow and weak. “You are not leaving me, McKay. So not gonna happen. You can kick my ass into next week but at least you’ll be alive.”
Laying him down on the bed, John scrambled to his clothes, finding the knife he normally kept hidden in his boot. It was the only weapon he’d managed to keep from their captors. Without hesitating, he nicked the vein in his arm and rushed back to Rodney. The blood was welling up as he lifted Rodney, letting him rest against his chest. Moving his arm he held the cut to Rodney’s mouth, but there was no response.
“Come on, Rodney.” John begged softly, his mouth kissing his lover on the temple, “Take it. Please.”
He felt it then, the soft, moist flutter of tongue against his skin and John let go the breath he’d been holding. “That’s it.” Rodney’s tongue played at the cut, flicking out to taste, then again, faster.
It was hypnotic against his skin and John shuddered, his heart racing as the feeding pace intensified. John’s eyelids were getting heavier and he was drifting in the euphoria when Rodney suddenly stiffened in his arms and jerking out of his grasp, scrambled to the far side of the room, panting heavily.
Part Five
Author: Chaps1870
Pairing: McShep
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Vampire AU
Chapter Four
Morning came too early and John wasn’t sure he’d even fallen asleep when he began to hear the muted sounds of people moving about outside the door. Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and glanced down at Rodney, still oblivious to anything. Reaching out, he grabbed a shoulder and shook it.
Rodney jerked away and slurred, “L’ve m‘lone.”
“Come on, McKay. We can’t be late our first day of school.” John shifted on the bed and slipped his feet into his shoes before grabbing a drink of water to wash away the night’s taste in his mouth. The room reeked of sickness that he hadn’t noticed the night before.
The smell of it must have hit Rodney about the same time. He paled noticeably and quickly put on his own shoes before stumbling towards the door. Stopping a minute, Rodney looked self-conscious as he vigorously rubbed his arms and face, removing the last traces of dead skin. John looked away until Rodney finished, saving him further embarrassment.
Opening the door, Rodney entered the hallway, then gestured to the door as John started to close it. “Um, you might want to leave that open.”
John nodded and countered cheekily, “I’m not cleaning that up. We paid good money to stay here.”
“Next time I get to book the reservations. The accommodations here really suck,” retorted Rodney, stepping aside to let a few of the other prisoners by. They were speaking quietly and barely gave the new arrivals a passing glance.
He and John followed behind, both men quieting as they exited the barracks. It was still dark, but movement could be heard all around the camp as everyone began to stir and face a new day. The prisoners seemed to move about freely, talking amongst themselves as they all headed in the same general direction.
No guards were in evidence, but it was too dark to really see if they were around or not. John whispered to Rodney as they followed the crowd, “They don’t seem too worried about someone escaping.”
Rodney huffed, “And why should they? They have a carnival game right in their own backyard. They just wait for the ducks to pop their heads up over the sand dune. High score gets the stuffed monkey.”
“So, plan A is a bust,” drawled John, pushing Rodney into the food line.
Eyes wide as he turned to stare at Sheppard, Rodney replied, aghast, “You weren’t seriously considering a return across Death Valley? If they didn’t pick us off in the first ten yards, we’d die of thirst before the day was out.”
John rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t die of thirst in one day, McKay.”
“You don’t know that,” huffed Rodney, following the lead of the other prisoners and grabbing a bowl and spoon as they shuffled down the line of servers. The food was served quickly and the line moved fast. John and Rodney hesitated after their bowls were filled with some sort of soupy grain and given a piece of bread. There were tables all around and there didn’t seem to be any sort of seating arrangement so they found an empty table and sat down.
Sniffing his food, Rodney shrugged and began eating. He’d eaten several bites before he spoke, “Not bad.” He proceeded to inhale his food in his normal fashion.
John had to agree. It faired better than some of the food he’d eaten during his time in the military. Okay, that wasn’t saying much, but it was still more than he expected from a prison camp. Nothing about the whole set up really made sense and as far as John could tell, he and McKay had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’d been caught in the crossfire between two warring parties and been swept up with the other prisoners. It was free labor no matter how you looked at it. This wasn’t Earth. Survival was based on who came out alive, not how you got there. As they ate, other men joined them until they were surrounded.
John glanced at the man across from him, noting the weathered face and hardened expression. He pulled his bowl closer and smiled, “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
The big man snarled back, “Gimme your bread.”
Picking up his bread, John leaned it towards McKay as he smirked, “Want my bread?”
Rodney lifted his head and frowned, having missed the exchange, too busy inhaling his food. He shrugged innocently, “Thanks.” Tearing off a chunk, he noticed the man across from them and stopped mid chew. He leaned into Sheppard and whispered, loud enough to be overheard, “Who’s the ugly guy?”
“He wanted your bread. He doesn’t know about your vindictive streak,” quipped John, never taking his eyes off the man.
The others around them, worried for their own safety, slowly moved away, leaving only the three of them. Rodney swallowed and ducked his head. Taking another bite, he smirked, “I can see that ugly is obviously universal. Which of course makes me wonder if the dull expression normally associated with stupid is a constant in this galaxy as well.” Making sure John still had his eyes straight ahead, Rodney lifted his head and smiled at the man, eyeteeth gleaming. His voice was low and purposeful as he asked menacingly, “You’re not stupid are you?”
The man blanched and his eyes widened. Stuttering an apology, he left his bowl and hurried away. John stared after him and looked sharply at Rodney, who was calmly taking another bite of bread. Rodney shrugged, “What?”
They stared at one another for several seconds before realization dawned and John asked uncertainly, suppressing a shudder. “Don’t tell me you can just turn it off and on like that.”
Rodney shrugged, “Okay, I won’t.”
John cringed and Rodney noticed, his face falling. Shoulders slumping, Rodney ducked his head, hiding the heat that suffused his face. When John remained silent, Rodney stood up, grabbing his bowl. Stammering, he gestured to John’s empty bowl, “You want me to take that?”
Shaking his head, John stared at the empty bowl, chastising himself for reacting as he did. As Rodney moved off, he shook it off and quickly got to his feet to follow. Catching up, he spoke more harshly than he intended as he grabbed for Rodney, “Don’t be going off on your own.”
“I can take care of myself, Colonel,” snapped Rodney, raising his chin in defiance.
John motioned to where they’d been sitting and hissed through gritted teeth, “We don’t need you drawing attention to us, McKay.”
Rodney lifted his chin. “Oh right, like a fight with He-Man over there wouldn’t have brought the guards down on us.”
“This isn’t the place for you to start showing off,” growled John, his anger growing at Rodney’s sudden confidence.
Stopping mid step, Rodney turned sharply on him, the hurt plainly visible. “Is that what you think?” He shook his head. “You’re the one that wanted the truth. Wanted to see the real me. Well, take a good look, Colonel, because I’m tired of hiding.” He walked off without another word.
*******
John spent the next four hours being totally pissed at himself as he watched Rodney toiling in the hot sun. They’d gotten separated after their tiff and before John could catch up they’d been marched to the worksite a mile away and put to work. It was a large open pit mine and the workers were strung out for several hundred yards, each working a small section of the pit with only a chisel and hammer. Rodney had been put to work about twenty men down from John. When he’d tried moving out of line to join Rodney, John had received a couple new whip marks. He took his rightful place, trying to ignore the fear in Rodney’s eyes as he’d been forced to walk past his friend.
Turned out they were mining for the little glow balls that illuminated their room the night before. Each time a prisoner would find one, a guard would appear, trading the bobble for a drink of water and a token. When the man beside him pulled one out of the rocks and received his token, John waited for the guard to leave before asking, “What’s the token for?”
The dirty miner answered, “It is how we pay for what we need.”
John raised an eyebrow, continuing his work. “Food?”
“No, they will feed you as long as you work. The pay is incentive to work harder. It is nice to have an extra meal sometimes or an extra blanket when the weather turns cold.”
The man on the other side chimed in, smiling, “There is even brew if you wish to spend your money on it.”
John talked amiably with his workmates, discussing the ins and outs of the camp. It seemed they were given run of the camp. Anyone caught trying to escape was shot on sight. Many of the prisoners were content to have a couple meals a day in return for their labor. Life in the Pegasus galaxy was such that even the simplest mind could comprehend a good thing when they saw it.
The natives called themselves Telosians and had an early warning system to combat the Wraith problem. With enough warning they could vanish into the deeper mines to escape culling. They knew the tunnels far better than the Wraith and after years of outwitting them, the Wraith had given up, although, the last two years had brought an occasional visit from the white ones.
They lived an isolated existence, mining the light balls and using them to trade for whatever they needed. The balls brought a high price on most worlds and the Telosians didn’t lack for much. In return, they treated their workers with a modicum of decency. They were obviously smart enough to realize that they couldn’t have one without the other.
It was close to evening before John hit paydirt, finding his own glow ball. The water was a welcome relief to his parched throat. He was grateful that Rodney had found a couple. At least he’d gotten some water. The work and the sun were taking a terrible toll on Rodney. He was at a spot in the quarry that held no relief from the sun. Even from a distance, John could see that Rodney wasn’t doing well. They’d gotten water and a piece of bread for the noonday meal, not nearly enough to ward off Rodney’s low blood sugar.
The sun was sinking low before the guards signaled quitting time. John sighed in relief, he hurt all over. The heavy hammer and chisel pulled at his back and shoulders and his hands were covered in blisters. As much as he hurt, all he could think of was Rodney, who was leaning heavily against the quarry wall, chin resting on his chest.
It was a long single file walk back to camp. John vowed that tomorrow he would be working next to McKay even if he had to tie him to his wrist to keep him from wandering off.
As they passed some invisible line near the encampment the men broke off, wandering off in all directions. It was full dark and John waited impatiently for Rodney to appear. Rodney spared him a brief look before they followed the workers towards the food line. “Hell of a vacation spot.” He waved his hands tiredly. “The sand, the sun, the sand. Have I mentioned the sun?” bemoaned Rodney with his typical sarcasm.
John didn’t need to be reminded of the sun with the blisters on Rodney’s arms and face, and the back of his neck. He looked even worse than the day before, if that was possible. Aware of John’s scrutiny, Rodney crossed his arms in an attempt to hide them, but ended up wincing under his own touch. Looking miserable, Rodney’s shoulders slumped and he dropped his arms. “Sorry.”
Taken aback, John frowned, “Huh?”
Rodney shrugged, “Nothing. Never mind.”
Having spotted a fountain where they could get a drink and clean up, John pulled Rodney into the throng of men. Cupping his hands, he drank deeply, watching as Rodney did the same. They washed off some of the dirt but their clothes were coated with the powder fine rock dust from the mines. John slipped off his shirt and shook out the worst of it. Rodney wandered to the closest bench surrounding the area and sat down. Donning his shirt in a hurry, John joined him.
The ache that gripped his heart seeing Rodney so run down came as a surprise. A day away from Rodney was worse than he’d imagined. He’d watched helplessly as Rodney struggled in the hot sun. Concerned, he asked, “You okay?”
Nodding, Rodney’s voice was weary, “Not really, no.” He sighed and got up, looking down at Sheppard, “I need to eat. You coming?”
“Yeah.” Pushing himself to his feet, he fell into step beside Rodney.
As they stepped into the food line, John could see how badly Rodney’s hands were shaking as he held out his bowl to be filled. It was stew like the night before, but Rodney barely noticed. With food in hand they found the same seats from the morning. Rodney sat down heavily, took one look at his stew and shoved it towards John. With an elbow on the table he rested his head in his hand, nibbling on his bread. John was starting to worry Rodney would fall asleep between one bite and the next and end up choking. Finishing his supper, John helped him back to their room. If John touching him hurt, he didn’t say anything.
Before Rodney could collapse on the bed, John suggested, “If you get out of those clothes I’ll shake the dust out.”
Standing in the middle of room, Rodney was swaying on his feet. John wasn’t sure if he’d heard him or not. Moving to stand in front of him, he said softly, “Let me help you with your shirt.”
Rodney, lifting his head, stared blankly at him. John repeated himself and got a weak nod. Shoulders slumped, Rodney just stood there and let John undress him, lifting his arms and legs when asked. Covered in a cold sweat and trembling by the time they were done, John led him to bed and sat beside him. He’d never seen Rodney so beaten down, sick or quiet and it tore at him to see him suffering.
Taking a chance, he let his hand rest on Rodney’s arm, above the blistering. Sighing inwardly, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed touching Rodney. His fingers caressed lightly, hopeful Rodney wouldn’t pull away. He really needed to take the clothes out and get some fresh water but he couldn’t make himself let go. It was easy to convince himself to wait until Rodney fell asleep.
That night was no better than the night before. Worse actually. John woke to find Rodney sitting hunched in the corner, frantically rubbing his arms and face. Approaching slowly, so as not to startle him, he whispered, “Rodney.”
Rodney’s head shot up, his face puffy and red. “Go away.”
Ignoring him, John scooted closer, his hand instinctively dropping on Rodney’s back. His T-shirt was soaked. John could feel his muscles tensing under his hand. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking his head, Rodney tried to pull away, his voice was high pitched, “Freak, freak, freak. Nobody likes a freak.” His breathing was fast, shallow as he continued rubbing his arms, refusing to look at John.
“You’re not a freak,” said John, quietly, unable to hide the shame he felt for making Rodney think he was or the rising fear that the hypoglycemia was causing his friend’s breakdown.
Lifting his head, Rodney rambled, his voice rising, “I am. You’re afraid of me. I saw it. I saw the fear in your eyes. Can’t hide the fear. Everybody hates the freak.” Rodney’s voice rose with every word, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I don’t hate you, Rodney,” replied John, his hand rubbing Rodney’s back in circles as he tried to calm him down.
Rodney nodded anxiously, “I lost you because of what I am.”
John couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to and he reached out, pulling Rodney into his chest, holding him close. He dropped his head to Rodney’s shoulder, “You haven’t lost me, okay. It’s your hypoglycemia talking.”
“It’s making babble like an idiot.” He slumped further in John’s arms, sniffing. “I hate this.”
Unsure what to say that would help, John asked hesitantly, “You want the bread I saved.”
Rodney convulsed, swallowed hard and moaned, “Don’t mention food.”
John winced, forgetting that Rodney was probably sicker tonight than last night after spending the entire day in the sun. “Sorry.”
It was too late. Rodney bolted and his back heaved as he lost the meager contents of his stomach. John closed his eyes tight to regain his own stomach then followed, holding Rodney up as the sickness continued. It seemed to go on forever before Rodney slumped in his arms, totally exhausted. After much prodding, John managed to get him away from the mess and onto the bed where he forced him to eat and drink some water. Rodney barely finished before he was sound asleep.
John slipped behind him and wrapped a protective arm around him as he slept. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it for Rodney’s sake or his own. It was hard to keep his distance when everything screamed at him to offer comfort. Show that he still cared. He realized that his feelings for Rodney really hadn’t changed. Deep down, John still loved him despite all his misgivings about him being a vampire. He just didn’t want to hurt Rodney any more than he already had by pulling away as he had. Giving in too soon, without all the facts and then freaking again might be more than either of them could repair.
**************
Two more days of the sun and barely eating, Rodney was deteriorating rapidly. John had used what money they’d made to find him a long sleeve shirt. It helped some, but not enough to prevent the awful sickness at night. He wasn’t getting enough food as it was and the vomiting only weakened him further. Rodney was no longer bouncing back after a meal and the guards were taking notice of the fact that he wasn’t doing his share of the work. John was working harder to take up the slack, slipping Rodney every other ball he found to keep the guards at bay and keep him hydrated during the day. In the four days since their capture, Rodney had easily dropped ten pounds.
John could no longer deny his feelings for Rodney. The vampire thing didn’t mean a thing as he watched him struggling to survive what should have been an easy internment. Rodney did his best not to complain, unusual for Rodney but the effort it took was a testament to how poorly he was feeling.
The fifth night, John held him in his arms, begging, “Just hang on, buddy. They’ll find us soon.”
Rodney was shaking, his voice weak when he spoke, “I’m dying.”
“No, you’ll be fine.”
“Not this time,” huffed Rodney, almost smiling, accepting his fate.
John took a deep breath, his voice wavering nervously, “Would my blood help?”
Eyes fluttering, trying to open, Rodney sighed, “Can’t.”
John snapped back, angrily, “Can’t or won’t.”
“Won’t,” whispered Rodney, his voice faltering.
“Don’t be so damn stubborn about this, Rodney. I know what you are. It doesn’t bother me.”
“It should,” said Rodney, the effort to speak tiring, but needing to talk, “You don’t know.” He took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Then tell me. Make me understand. Then I can decide,” insisted John, tightening his hold. His hands were shaking as he caressed Rodney’s chest where his arms wrapped around him. He already knew what decision he would make, because losing Rodney wasn’t an option any more. This was a close as he ever wanted to be.
Rodney took several seconds to answer, his voice slower as he spoke, “If I were to feed on you, you’d be mine.”
“Huh?”
“The bloodlust…it takes away my control.” Rodney was drifting, his breathing slow.
John felt his gut clenching in fear and he shook him awake, afraid if he slept now he’d never wake. “I don’t care, Rodney. I won’t let you die if I have a way to save you. You can feed on me if that’s what it takes.”
Rodney’s eyes fluttered open and he stared up at John. They couldn’t hide his feelings any better than the rest of him and John’s breath hitched. Rodney tried to smile, his eyes closing again. His voice was barely audible as he whispered, “No.”
Going limp in his arms, John panicked. “Rodney.” His heart raced as his fingers fumbled for a pulse. It was there, but just barely, slow and weak. “You are not leaving me, McKay. So not gonna happen. You can kick my ass into next week but at least you’ll be alive.”
Laying him down on the bed, John scrambled to his clothes, finding the knife he normally kept hidden in his boot. It was the only weapon he’d managed to keep from their captors. Without hesitating, he nicked the vein in his arm and rushed back to Rodney. The blood was welling up as he lifted Rodney, letting him rest against his chest. Moving his arm he held the cut to Rodney’s mouth, but there was no response.
“Come on, Rodney.” John begged softly, his mouth kissing his lover on the temple, “Take it. Please.”
He felt it then, the soft, moist flutter of tongue against his skin and John let go the breath he’d been holding. “That’s it.” Rodney’s tongue played at the cut, flicking out to taste, then again, faster.
It was hypnotic against his skin and John shuddered, his heart racing as the feeding pace intensified. John’s eyelids were getting heavier and he was drifting in the euphoria when Rodney suddenly stiffened in his arms and jerking out of his grasp, scrambled to the far side of the room, panting heavily.
Part Five
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