Carson took a deep breath, wishing for the umpteenth time that he was somewhere other than the senior staff meeting.
"Doctor Beckett?"
Carson looked up from his notes and smiled weakly at Elizabeth. He looked again at the datapad in front of him, and sighed.
"We've run more tests on Ronon and have determined the best solution to the rising testosterone levels in his system is to help it reach critical mass sooner rather than later."
John straightened in his chair. "What? I thought we agreed ..."
"I know what I said," Carson interrupted. "It looks like I was wrong. We need to push his levels over the edge. I know it doesn't sound wise, especially after telling ye we needed Ronon calm, but the truth is the sooner his hormone level tops off, the quicker it'll recede to normal."
Carson waited as the senior staff digested the information. It was a complete reversal his earlier advice so their hesitation wasn't unexpected. Ronon had been locked up for three days, and each day that passed made his anger increase and Carson miserable. Visitors were treated to either icy stares or a volly of curses that made everyone uneasy. Nae, Carson thought, if they want Ronon healthy again, then drastic measures are required.
"What do you propose we do, Carson?" Elizabeth asked.
"I have an idea," he said quietly. "I'll need Colonel Sheppard's assistance, but it should do the trick."
"Me? What can I do?" John asked, puzzled.
"If ye don't mind, I'd like to discuss it in private," Carson replied cryptically.
The senior staff mulled the request over before agreeing. Elizabeth and Rodney rose quickly, leaving the Military Commander and the Chief Medical Officer alone in the spacious conference room. After the doors closed behind them, John sat back in his chair and watched Carson closely.
"Colonel ...John," Carson began, "this isnae something I'd suggest if I didnae believe it would work. I hope you keep that in mind and hear me out."
"That's one hell of a disclaimer, Doc," Sheppard said, worried.
For two days, Carson had played the conversation through his mind, spinning angles differently to anticipate John's reactions. Sometimes their talk ended well. Sometimes it didn't. Beckett cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of him on the desk. His sea-blue eyes considered Sheppard for a minute before he spoke.
"Ye know I'm gay," Carson said, watching John closely for a negative reaction. He was relieved when he didn't receive one. "Ye might also know I'm interested in Ronon. And, before his injury, it seemed he was interested in me as well."
John nodded. "I've never had a problem with you, Carson. You know that. As for Ronon ...well, I sort of hoped you two would work it out."
Carson smiled broadly at the pilot. "Aye, I want that very much. Thank ye, by the way, for your support."
"Pfft," John waved off the platitude. "We're all friends here."
Beckett nodded back. "Your friendship means a lot to me, John. It makes what I'm about to say a wee bit easier."
He hesitated, but Carson saw the concern in John's eyes and was determined to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible.
"I want ye to help me make Ronon jealous," he said. "Ronon wants me. The hormones in his system have made him extremely possessive, and I believe if we could convince him you're competition for my affections ..."
Beckett watched Sheppard's eyes widen in surprise as he digested the request. Ye have to do it, John, Carson desperately thought.
"Whoa! Wait a second, Doc," John ran his hands over his face. "You want me to what? Seduce you? In front of Ronon?"
"Yes."
"Carson, I'm flattered and ...and flattered, you know," John stumbled, "but I'm not, you know, into guys. I'm not against it, in principal or, you know, against your lifestyle. But I'm not that way."
"John, I know you're not, but there's two reasons why I believe ye should be the one to do it," Carson said firmly. "First, you're the only man who Ronon would think twice about confronting. It would give him time to stew, pushing his testosterone to the breaking point."
"Great. So he gets really mad and then he really kicks my ass!" John yelled.
Ignoring him, Carson kept his voice even and pushed on. "Second, you're bloody attractive. Ronon would believe we were carrying on. Ye can have any lad or lass in this galaxy if ye had a mind to, and that's common knowledge. It would make sense to him that you've turned your charms on me."
Beckett noticed the slight squirm from John as the man shifted uneasily in his chair. Whether or not the colonel was a homosexual didn't matter to the legion of people more than willing to get into the flyboy's trousers.
They sat in silence, avoiding each other's eyes when they happened to glance across the table at the same time. Carson didn't want this to be as uncomfortable as it was, but there was no turning back now. He knew what he was asking Colonel Sheppard, and after days of analysis, it was the best plan he'd come up with.
When John stood up and paced the room, Beckett tapped his fingers on the table and waited. He could almost read Sheppard's thoughts as they passed through his head.
"Tell me one good reason why I should agree to this stunt," John said, fixing the Scotsman with the most intense look the doctor had ever seen on him.
Carson stood up and walked over to the anxious soldier. Sheppard was scared. It was clear enough by the way John protectively crossed his arms against his chest. Beckett gently touched John's shoulder and peered deep into the man's hazel-green eyes.
"We ...we have to hurt him to save him," Carson said, not hiding the desperation in his voice.
He watched as John tried to grasp what Beckett was saying. Seconds ticked away before Sheppard gently placed the palm of his hand on Carson's broad shoulder.
"Tell me the rest of your plan," John said, and Carson smiled.
John walked into the brig, ready to give the performance of his life. He didn't dare over-analyze Beckett's plan. If he did, he'd run screaming back to Earth.
"Hey, buddy. How's it hangin'?"
Sheppard watched as Ronon rose from his bunk and sneered. Charm, John thought. Lots of charm.
"I was talking to Beckett earlier and he's happy with the progress you've made," he said as he placed his fingers against the cell's control unit. "All the medical stuff has panned out so he said we can finally let you out of here."
Nimble fingers tapped in the security code, shutting down the energy wall surrounding the bars. A moment later, John thought about the lock, and the door clicked open.
"Come on, let's get some chow," John smiled.
"That's it?" Ronon growled, his large mass invading John's personal space. "You lock me up like a criminal for three days, and all I get is a dinner invitation?"
"Actually it's lunchtime," Sheppard said, taking a step back so he could more easily look into Ronon's face. "And you know I'm sorry I had to put you in here. I'm not proud of that."
In the best of times, Ronon was difficult to read. John studied the young man with apparent casualness. Dex was huge. Tall, hard-muscled, and intimidating. John appreciated those traits in the former Runner. They complimented the loyalty and fearlessness Ronon possessed in spades, and all of it served to remind John why he had to go through with Beckett's plan.
"I am sorry. More than you'll ever know," Sheppard said. "But it looks like you're back to normal, so can't we just put this behind us, and move on?"
He saw a glimpse of something pass across Ronon's face. Reel it in, big guy, John prayed. Making me wallpaper isn't in the script.
"Sure," Dex replied, pushing past his commanding officer. "Let's eat."
The mess hall was surprisingly empty when the two arrived. John surveyed the room while absently grabbing at a cellophane-wrapped sandwich and a carton of juice. He watched Ronon place two sandwiches, an orange, pudding, and two cartons of milk on his own food tray, balancing the items with ease. At least his appetite is normal, John mused.
John chose a table near three expansive glass windows for them to eat their meal. The ocean view was breathtaking, and John felt like he was sitting in the clouds.
He made small talk with Ronon, filling the man in on the minor activities he'd missed. Dex gulped down his milk and nodded periodically in reply. By all accounts, their lunch was like previous ones. John did most of the talking. Ronon listened, but never stopped funneling food into his mouth. It was a comfortable existence.
A short time later, John paused during his conversation as he noticed Carson and two scientists enter the cafeteria. Show time.
Sheppard allowed his gaze to linger on Beckett as the doctor and his lunch partners sat at a circular table at the front of the room. He purposefully let his voice sound distracted, and pretended not to notice when Dex turned his head to see what had captured his attention. Dramatically, John shook his head as if clearing away some errant thought.
"Where was I?" he asked, an innocent smile on his lips.
"Staring at Beckett," Ronon frowned.
"What? Nah. What was I talking about?" John asked.
Ronon shrugged, so John chose another topic and began chatting again. Every so often, Sheppard's eyes would dart past Ronon to look at Beckett's table. He was certain Dex saw him do it, which was the whole point. Finally, Carson and the others rose from their table and walked towards the exit.
"Ah, I'll be back in a minute," John said, rising hastily from his chair. He jogged a few steps until he reached Beckett.
"Hey, Doc," he announced loudly.
Carson turned, a warm smile on his face. "Colonel Sheppard, I didnae see ye when I came in."
"Oh, I'm in the corner with Ronon," John explained, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder to indicate where Dex was seated. "Hey, I was wondering if he was cleared to go off-world yet."
"Let's give it a couple of days. I don't expect any problems, so I'm sure he'll be fine to return to duty soon," Beckett said.
John could feel Ronon's eyes burning into his back. Here we go, he thought. He let his hand rest easily on Carson's shoulder before giving it a squeeze.
"Glad to hear it, Doc," John said, hoping Ronon was watching. Instead of releasing his grip, he slid his hand down the length of Carson's arm, then he returned his hand to his side. "Well, I'll see you around."
Carson had the decency to blush, and John silently thanked him for adding it to their scene. He watched as the Scotsman walked away before returning to Ronon's table.
To anyone else the little show was nothing more than two friends talking. As he sat down, however, John felt the short hairs on his neck stand up. Ronon looked considerably more tense than when Sheppard left him.
"So, you feel like a run?" John asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Over the next few days, John took advantage of every opportunity he could to have Dex watch his and Beckett's behavior. Sometimes the two conspirators were "discovered" standing inappropriately close in the infirmary when Ronon was nearby having blood drawn. Other times John would get "distracted" when Carson was around, especially during meetings. Once or twice John padded off after Beckett when the doctor passed the two men in the hallway.
The real acting, though, was in the not-so-subtle flirting John judicially poured on. He'd fiddle with the Carson's lab coat, or tease him mercilessly about some off-the-cuff Scottish tradition until he was rewarded with Beckett's deep, dimpled cheeks and hearty laugh.
Jealousy slowly seemed to crack Ronon's calm facade, making John sometimes smirk in triumph, or grimace at the cruelty of his role. Hurt him to save him, Carson had said, and John used those words to steel his resolve. But whenever Dex stormed off, growling under his breath, John hoped he didn't have to push his friend too much further.
One morning, while he was returning to his quarters, Carson rounded a corner, almost knocking John on his ass.
"Sorry, Colonel. Are ye all right?" Beckett said, scrambling to steady the American before he fell over.
"Geez, Doc, where's the fire?" John snapped.
"I needed to talk to ye. I was just coming to check your room."
"Well, you could have just radioed me, you know," the annoyance slipping from John's lips.
"I know, but I wasnae sure if ye were alone," Carson smiled weakly. John motioned for the doctor to follow him down the hall to where his room was located. "I don't want to alert our friend to ...you know. The plan."
John thought the door open and stepped inside his unremarkable room. "Ronon's on his way. We're going to workout so I need to change."
Sheppard indicated a chair for Carson to sit on, but the other man waved it off. Shrugging, John began removing his uniform shirt. Carson decided to sit after all.
"So, what's up, Doc?" John grinned. He never got tired of using a little Bugs Bunny to lighten Carson's mood.
Beckett shook his head and smirked. "Ye know I hate that, right?"
"What sort of back-water country is Scotland? How can you hate Bugs?" John quirked his eyebrows, mockingly chastising his friend.
He peeled the black, form-fitting t-shirt over his head and reached for his belt. John paused when he heard a small gasp escape his visitor's throat. Carson's eyes were wide as John watched them roam over his exposed torso. He felt his nipples harden under the close scrutiny, and that was just odd.
"This going to be a problem, Doc?" John asked, tapping his belt buckle.
"Nae, I'm sorry. I ...I didnae mean to offend ye," Carson blushed from the tips of his ears down to his throat as he lowered his gaze to the floor.
Seeing embarrassment in those eyes tugged at John's heart. The past few days were kind of fun to him. Flirting and joking with Carson wasn't difficult. The Scotsman was decent looking, as men go, and he had a sharp wit. But John was beginning to understand that behind the curtain was a sweet, lonely man in love. No matter how he pretended to have the hots for Carson, being on the receiving end of John's affections couldn't be easy on the doctor.
Sighing, Sheppard went over and knelt in front of Beckett.
"Hey," he whispered, pressing his fingers under Carson's chin to raise his head. The pilot wasn't prepared to find the skin wet with tears. "Carson? Hey, it's okay. Shhh ..."
John's long arms wrapped around Carson before he pulled the man's head forward to rest on his shoulder. Slowly, he stroked Beckett's back soothingly, whispering what words of comfort he could. He felt Carson respond, melting forward to rest more of his weight onto John.
"We'll get Ronon through this. I promise," Sheppard said, willing his strength and reassurance into each word.
Carson shifted in John's arms until they were nose to nose. For a moment, John felt his hands were impossibly warm against Beckett's dark, gray shirt, the skin underneath burning from his ministrations. His mind registered he was breathing in Carson's expelled air, and the musky scent of aftershave. This is such a bad idea, John thought, just before he lightly pressed his lips to Carson's.
Under him, John felt Carson stiffen. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but John hoped he got it right. He stilled when the wet tip of Beckett's tongue touched his lips, making Sheppard instinctively open his mouth to allow it entry.
Never in his life had Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard kissed another man. He'd never imagined what it would feel like, was never curious about the feel of stubbled skin scratching against his cheek. But John was kissing Carson as strong arms held him around his shoulders, brushing at the soft hairs on his neck.
"Sheppard!"
The roar behind John startled him, but before he could turn around, heavy hands yanked him backwards. His eyes focused a split second before he pulled aside, deflecting the fist falling towards his face.
"Ronon! No!" Carson yelled, bolting from his chair.
John rolled quickly, getting his feet under him as Dex charged. The Satedan's face was a mask of raw fury, his normally hazel eyes now a glittering black. John managed to block the first two swings at his face and chest, but a hard blow caught him in the stomach. He fell to his knees, and tried to remember what it felt like to breathe.
"Ronon, stop!"
John heard Carson's voice through his wheezing, but he couldn't get enough air into his lungs to speak. The soldier dropped his head to his knees, his arms tightly clutching his abused stomach. When a chair clattered across the floor next to him, John fought against a sudden wave of nausea to struggle to his feet.
Carson was pinned under Ronon, the larger man straddling him with the unyielding strength in his thighs. Before John could move, Dex landed several devastating punches to the doctor's bloodied face.
"Nooo!"
John crashed into Ronon, slamming his friend into a desk. Files, papers, and empty coffee cups were sent flying. Dex outweighed the colonel, but the element of surprise gave John the upper hand. Face down on the ground, Ronon bucked and thrashed, but John held firm. The more Dex struggled, the tighter Sheppard's grip became. The veins on Ronon's neck swelled, growing impossibly large as John watched.
Then Ronon screamed.
It was a long, deep, and utterly painful sound, and John felt the sweat on his skin grow cold. Abruptly, Ronon's frantic movements stopped until John felt him grow deathly still on the concrete floor.