Rodney stared at the explosions bursting against the shield, eyes glazed, mind racing from a combination of lack of sleep, adrenaline and military grade stimulants. He wanted to look down, but he couldn’t. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the sky, on the flashes of light blossoming above him. He wanted to thread his fingers through the hair of the man kneeling before him, but his fingers flexed at his sides. His arm twitched, reaching up instead of down, then settled.

There should be sound, Rodney thought, and then he heard it. Straining to hear the crash and sizzle, he almost missed the humming. It was a low, contented sound; it was satisfaction. After the humming, he heard the licking. It sounded like an ice cream cone on a hot, happy day. Rodney smiled a little and thought about melting.

The heat coiled within him, rising through his body. Hands that had been reaching started to tingle, and he felt the vibration of Atlantis in his feet. He tried to track the shaking, but it was everywhere at once, pulsing through him in time with the lightshow above. He thought he might have swayed, but the humming never stopped or stuttered. The humming pulsed too, setting a rhythm of pull and release, of building pressure, of aching need. And Rodney kept melting, and flaring, and waiting to burst.

Rodney blinked and felt the presence of Major So long, Rodney Sheppard at his shoulder. He knew the meeting had started; he knew he was needed. But he continued to gaze at the shield.

I almost lost him. He almost died. We almost lost Atlantis. I almost never got to tell him …

Rodney stared at the display and opened his mouth. “It’s almost pretty, isn’t it?” He heard John What other Sheppards do you know? shift beside him, and strained closer without moving.

“Almost. Not quite.”

Rodney turned with Major Sheppard to leave the balcony, and it was almost enough.