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The knock was soft and unexpected. John checked his watch. In Atlantis, there was no such thing as off duty. He set his book aside – he'd only read the last paragraph three times already – and tapped his earpiece on the way to the door just to be sure it was working.
"Hey, buddy." It was Rodney. Rodney used not to knock, or even bother with the chimes. But things had been different since the shrine. Still, seeing him was something like pulling back the curtains on a sunny day. "What'cha got there?"
"Hey." Rodney held out a folded piece of black leather. "This is yours, apparently."
John looked blankly at the jacket. The last time he'd seen it, Rodney had been wearing it. Not inside the cave behind the waterfall, but just the night before in the mess. He took it with a nod.
"Why didn't you say anything? I've been wearing it for… well, a while."
John shrugged. "No problem."
"If Jennifer hadn't mentioned it belonged to you, you might never have gotten it back. I must have borrowed it, but I don't really…"
John looked past Rodney's shoulder, past the words, to focus on one of the panels beyond the door.
"Well…" Rodney's voice was so far away. "I'll leave you to it then. Like I—"
"How much do you remember?" John asked, fixing his gaze inside the blue of Rodney's eyes, heart beating so fast and so hard, the sound of it filled his ears.
Rodney blinked. "About those few weeks… not much. Beginning the taping, of course, panicking, and I have a vague recollection of the pier, your bare feet and you not wanting to say goodbye."
A half-smile escaped before he could stop it. "You don't remember the beer or staying out 'til the sun came up?" John held up the jacket as if that might jog something loose.
Rodney's eyes narrowed. "No, that's still a little fuzzy. Beer? I drink beer?"
"A lot." John's smile faded. It was strange. Rodney could remember his lucid moments from the Shrine of Talus, including the power drill – John knew he'd never live that one down – but the days leading up to their trip, hardly anything at all. For Rodney, the only reference point for the missing days seemed to be the documentation he'd insisted on.
"Anyway, thanks." Rodney pointed to the jacket. "Hope I didn't stretch it too much, or… you really should have said something. I'll see you." He threw his hand up before turning and taking a few tentative steps away from the door.
John watched him go, swallowing two or three times in quick succession. He had a lump in his throat the size of Rodney's name.
"Oh, wait!"
Rodney walked back to him and John almost forgot how to breathe.
"I, uh. John… I just wanted to say thanks for not giving up on me, I mean, you know, for not saying… well, that thing we weren't going to say." The slant of Rodney's mouth added a bit of a gleam to his eyes, and caught John like an elastic band around his chest.
Wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, he tried not to stare, but he couldn't help himself. He set a hand squarely on his hip and repeated, "No problem, Rodney." And, fuck, he would have given anything if the words hadn't come out so broken and empty.
This time Rodney made it all the way to the end of the corridor and disappeared around the corner. John didn't blink when the doors hissed closed in front of him. He just held the still-warm leather to his nose and remembered to breathe.