riverviewlogs | [open/closed] I watched a change in you

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[open/closed] I watched a change in you

who: John Sheppard & friends, GUEST STARRING the retrovirus, and anyone unlucky enough to cross his path
what: John's problematic transformation from a man into a manbugthing and all the drama that follows
when: Late April to early May
where: Various, inside and outside the wall
warnings: Graphic violence, sexual content, disturbing imagery, language... your typical Rated R Sci-fi movie

Day 0: John is bitten by a venomous insect in the field. Lingering traces of the Irratus bug retrovirus in his system are activated in biological defense, successfully counteracting the venom.

Day 1: No outward physical mutation. Physiological condition is optimized. All symptoms of stress, fatigue and exertion are eliminated. Near instantaneous healing of minor wounds. Strength, speed, stamina, and durability are at peak human capacity. Dopamines and hormones exceed normal levels. Positive change in mood is subsequent.

Day 2: No outward physical mutation. Instantaneous healing of minor wounds. Strength, speed, stamina, and durability are above peak human capacity. Dopamines and hormones are off the charts. Senses are enhanced. Extreme decline of mental/emotional/sexual inhibitions. Behaviour is erratic and reactive.

Day 3: Physical mutation begins, progressing rapidly. Pupils become slitted. Skin and extremities show signs of textural change, becoming rough, hardened and discoloured. Grey dermal patterning covers significant portion of body. Near instantaneous healing of major wounds. Strength, speed, stamina, and durability , as well as senses, are super-human. Shift of brain chemicals and hormones from human to Iratus bug. Loss of mental/emotional/sexual inhibitions. Behaviour is extremely erratic, reactive, and violent.

Day 4: Physical mutation advances significantly, altering facial features. Skin takes on an exoskeleton appearance. Strength, speed, stamina, and durability, as well as senses, are super-human. Complete regenerative ability. Extreme shift of brain chemicals and hormones from human to Iratus bug. Loss of mental/emotional/sexual inhibitions. Loss of identity, and some cognitive function. Behaviour is that of an apex predator. Hyper-violent, territorial, and predatory.

Day 5: Chrysalis. Complete transformation to Iratus hybrid, and loss of human consciousness. Point of no return.

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The next day isn't so different. Not at first.

John wakes up feeling well rested and energetic. He kills his run and hits the gym before work, throwing himself into his workout like he hasn't since Atlantis. First weights, then sparring. He'll fight anyone, especially if they're bigger and stronger than him. Just to prove a point. He's in that kind of mood. Hotblooded.

No paperwork today. John can't sit still long enough to do it, and doesn't see the point. They're here as stopping power, not secretaries. He takes the team out into the field and clears a problematic area cropping up near the fences with more firepower than is necessary. Why have RPGs if you're not going to use them?

After work he hits the town. Hard. John can't seem to drink too much on these pills, and he doesn't mind. He hardly needs it right now. He's flying high on his own endorphins, the result of an active day kicking ass and taking names. Confidence through the roof.

If he takes someone home, they're in for a rough night.

John can be found getting physical at the PG facilities, tearing shit up outside the wall, or partying hard at the local bar. He has no filter, low inhibitions, and is highly reactive. Expecting fighting, flirting, and all kinds of messiness.

Edited 2018-05-06 00:35 (UTC)

[ John's situation has been cause for concern for a while, and Jim has felt pretty useless more often than not. When he gets his friend to spend some time together he feels like it helps a little, but then the next time he sees John, he looks just as terrible and worn out as before.

He doesn't push. It's a tough situation, and it takes time. Honestly he feels like a lot of it would get worked out if only he and Poe talked, but it's not like he can force that to happen either.

The only thing he can do is stand by in case John needs to get pulled out of a more serious and dangerous situation.

Today, though, John looks different. Jim comes to the training area to find him taking up a sparring mattress by himself. Energetic, eyes bright, even his hair looks more well taken care of. Jim smiles almost instantly at seeing those changes in him, and he steps closer to the mattress. ]

John, hey! You're looking good. [ He grins and nods towards him, immediately starting to shed his jacket. ] Looking for a partner, by any chance?

People keep saying that. I must've looked like shit, huh?

[It feels good to say exactly what's on his mind. John's not pulling any punches today. The five guys he thrashed before Jim showed up can attest to that.

After spending weeks in a fugue state, John's back and ready for action.

He likes the way Jim smiles at him. Bright and beautiful. John smiles back, watching him as he rewraps his fists.]

Yeah. Everyone keeps running away. I'm on a winning streak.

[That smile turns into a wolfish grin showing more than a flash of teeth.]

Think you can handle it?

Well... just a little bit. But with that scruffy hair there's only so much that can be done about that.

[ He doesn't think twice about John's honesty. His particular brand of self-deprecation only shows once in a blue moon, and always shielded in the form of a joke (mostly at his own expense), but John has generally always been honest around him. About himself, or everything else.

He shrugs as he toes off his shoes, then steps onto the training mat. ]

Won't know until I give it a try, now will I?

You're gonna pay for that you My Size Ken doll.

[John's going to make Jim eat his words, and he's going to have fun doing it. He chuckles to himself as he finishes wrapping his fists, punching his knuckles together.

Advancing on Jim, he's still grinning. There's no question who's the predator and who's the prey. At least in John's mind. His eyes flick over Jim from head to toe, scanning him for any weakness. Predicting his first move. John's on his game, and not even Jim, or his body, can throw him. Every tense and twitch of Jim's muscles might as well be highlighted in neon.

John can see everything.]

Don't worry, I won't go for the face.

Thank you. It's so nice when you flatter me.

[ As far as Jim is concerned, there is no prey and predator here. John's teasing him, and he's teasing back. It's banter, playful back and forth.

The last thing he expects is for John to hurt him in any way. A little rough, sure, but nothing more than that. He grins crookedly at that smug look on John's face. It's attractive on him, he has to admit. Suits him.

He slips into an easy stance, a little guarded. Waiting for John to make the first move. ]

I'd still look better than you, either way.

Uh huh. Whatever you say, blondie.

[Jim won't have to wait long. John's already on the move, and he's fast.

Faster than usual.

John usually wins when they spar. It's not that Jim lacks skill, or he isn't strong. He outweighs John by a solid twenty pounds, and he's got the biceps to prove it. Jim works out. John doesn't.

What Jim lacks is an edge. He doesn't fight tooth and nail like John does. He doesn't know what it feels like to kill a man with his bare hands, or quick and quiet with a knife. To be good at it. Jim's softer than John.

And he doesn't have that mean-streak.

John throws a kick at the side of Jim's knee, and follows up with a left hook to the face. Narrowly missing. On purpose. John grins.

He's playing with him.]

Don't think I'll go easy on you because you're cute.

[ Their sparring's never something he takes too seriously. It's good exercise, granted, but above all else, it's fun. A few harder hits here and there, but mostly they spend the time teasing each other, making jokes. That kinda thing.

John doesn't usually look like this. He doesn't usually move like this, either.

It's what catches him off-guard the most. He expects a blow to his side, a shove, John trying to catch him by the wrist. The fist aimed at his face has him startling, eyes wide as he jerks away from it. He can tell it would have landed if John had meant it to, though. ]

Geez. Getting a little intense there, aren't you? [ He purses his lips, rolling his shoulders and finding his footing again. ] Alright. We'll get serious, if that's what you want.

[ And yet he still has no intention of even trying to hurt John. Obviously. He's under the impression that John has no such plans for him either. ]

C'mon, Jim. I thought you liked it rough.

[John doesn't have plans to hurt Jim. He just wants to beat him, is all. Show off, and maybe show him who's boss. That if push comes to shove, John could have him on the ground, if he wanted him there.

And so what if he does? There's nothing wrong with a little friendly competition.

Or domination.

John rolls his neck, eyes slitting with amusement. Then he's coming at him again. Too fast, and too hard. There's no way Jim can hope to evade him. John's at the top of his game. Stronger than he's ever been. Jim might as well be fighting in slow motion. John can hear/feel/smell his every move before he makes it.

He takes Jim's legs out from under him with a sweep of his foot, knocking him hard onto his back. John's on him before he hits the ground, dropping down onto the mats between his legs and aiming softened punches at his belly, ribs, and cheek. John doesn't want to knock him out. He wants to prove a point.

Jim may be in charge of the shuttle team, the one who has his shit together, smarter, better, and easier to love than John will ever be, but John's on top.]

You look good on your back, Kirk.

[ Jim barks out a laugh at that, grinning crookedly. ] Oh, you have no idea.

[ That's kind of the game, isn't it? A little friendly banter, a little casual flirting that goes nowhere. Jim normally wouldn't, but John's in a strangely good mood. Not that John's usually the sulky type, but he feels... different, now. A little surer, cockier, more assertive. Jim's not gonna look into why that excites him a little.

He's both surprised and not that John manages to overtake him so easily. He still lets out a yelp when he's literally swept of his feet, the air leaving his lungs with a dry huff when his back hits the mattress. The blows to his stomach and ribs have him curling into himself slightly, though he can't go too far with John between his legs. ]

Jesus. [ He hugs his midsection, and then— just laughs, relaxing again, head falling back, hair a bit of a mess. It's fine, he's not really worried about looking good right now. ] Okay, fine. You win. [ Still grinning, he looks at John, eyebrows knitting together just so. ] What's gotten into you, anyway? You're not usually this intense.

Oh, I've got some.

[Looking down at Jim, into those beautiful blue eyes, John knows he could never really be with this man for so many reasons. He's too beautiful. Too kind. Too good. John cares about him too much to inflict his own special brand of pain and misfortune upon him.

That's what he'd be telling himself if this were any other day, and his blood wasn't lava in his veins. So hot he's burning himself up from the inside out.

John rakes his fingers back through Jim's blonde hair, smoothing it back almost gently from his face before grabbing a fistful of yanking Jim's head back.]

You're so fucking perfect I can't help but hate you sometimes.

[And he can't help but want him too.

John smashes his mouth against Jim's with bruising force, kissing him with all the repressed desire and frustration he's been holding in his gut for as long as they've known each other.

He's going to regret this later, but his inner animal? The one that's in control right now? He doesn't give a fuck.]

[ Jim knows something's off with John, he's realized it a while ago now, but he doesn't really understand to what extent. He doesn't think there's something really wrong, or that he might do something bad or— well, something that he might not do normally.

There's a warning somewhere that he ignores when John's fingers sift through his hair. His eyebrows raise, but he has no time to react or say anything at all before his head is being tilted back with a forceful tug to his hair.

A gasp leaves him, half-swallowed by the kiss, his hands immediately fisting John's shirt. Trying and failing to push him away. The pain that comes with the clashing of their mouths together doesn't even register, nor the pleasure that he might feel in some remote part of his brain— just the shock of the kiss itself, the fact that John of all people is doing this. ]

John, [ He manages somehow, between teeth dragging across his lips, and a tongue trying to push past them. ] Stop—

[ Poe is stupidly nervous. He's been working himself up to this since his anonymous conversations on the network, talking to himself in the mirror (which Finn, mercifully, hasn't commented on), rehearsing what he wants to say to John and asking BB-8's opinion on it. After all, BB-8's probably better at this whole thing than Poe himself.

Before you say anything, I want you to know I'm sorry, Poe thinks, as he heads for the training facilities, pointed that direction by a scowling Cadet Silva. Before you say anything, I want you to know I'm sorry. Before you say anything...

When he walks in, he stops. John is tearing into a punching bag like it attacked one of his people, and Poe's resolution falters for a half-second.

Now or never, he's pretty sure. Don't risk the never. ]

Hey John? Can I talk to you for a minute?

[John knows Poe is there before he speaks. Knows it's Poe, too. Specifically. He recognizes the weight of his footsteps. The way he draws in a breath in advance of speaking.

Maybe it's all the extra sleep he's getting on Carson's pills, but John's head has never felt clearer. He feels sharp. Alert. Like nothing can get past him. His hearing is better than it's been in years. Even his tinnitus has taken a backseat.

He throws a few more punches into the bag, hard as he can, because Poe is watching and because he's still fired up. Even after hours of sparring. Where's Teyla when you need her? He's only satisfied when it swings in a lazy arc, which he sidesteps to look at Poe when he turns to face him.

John doesn't know why Poe is here, and he's not sure how he feels about it. This is his space. John's space used to be Poe's space too, but not anymore. Poe's the one who slammed up the wall between them. Poe's the one who didn't want to share.]

Yeah. What's up?

[ Those were heavy blows. Poe watches the bag swing for a moment before his focus turns to John.

Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe he should come back later. Maybe he shouldn't come back at all.

Maybe, he thinks, you should fucking suck it up.

Poe shifts in place, trying to get comfortable in his own skin, trying to prepare himself for however well or badly this will go. He has to try. He has to at least try. ]

I'm sorry. [ He blurts it out, because if he doesn't start somewhere he's not going to start at all. ] Before you say anything, I want you to know I'm sorry. I...

[ He really should have thought past that first line. ] I fucked things. No, I mean I screwed things up. With us, with you.

[John looks at Poe long and hard. Brow raised.

He's sorry.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? John's sorry too. He's sorry he let Poe into his life as anything past a comrade. He won't say friend. They were never friends. Not by his recollection of events. One day they were flying together, saying their hello's and goodbye's at the shuttle bay, and the next Poe had him up against a wall. John still doesn't know what he wanted from him. Sex? No, it couldn't have been that. Poe isn't a man who's hurting for sex. He could have anyone he wants, and he knows it.

Maybe he wanted someone he could wrap around his finger. A toy. Some idiot who would fall all over him, and fall in love, because it would be funny, and easy, for him to do. Someone he could throw away when he got bored, which he did.

Finally, John drags his fingers back through his hair with a laugh. Disbelieving.

This is a funny joke.]

Huh. Okay. Thanks. Apology accepted. Is that what you want to hear?

[ There's something in John's eyes that snakes a little bubble of doubt into Poe's heart. ]

No-- I mean yes, but--

[ This is not how he hoped? planned? this would go. He figured John would be angry. He has every right to be angry. He knows too that John can be cold, calculating, he's seen that face, but this is different. There's an edge to this anger that Poe didn't see coming.

The laughter. The heat. There's a voice that says he needs to get out now, that little seed of instinct he so rarely listens to. But he's in this. He's not walking away this time, he's not repeating the same mistakes, he's not running. He's tired of running. ]

No, it's not. I'm. I'm being serious, I'm trying to be serious. [ A shaky inhalation. ] I fucked up. I l... [ Poe licks his lips. ] You were good, you were great to me, and I... wasn't. I kept... I fucked up. I'm not saying 'okay, I'm sorry, you have to be okay with the shit I pulled'. It's just I had to start somewhere and that seemed like an important place to do it.

[John listens to Poe. He even nods along to some of what he's saying.

It's true there's a heat inside of him, and with every word Poe says it gets hotter. Like there's a fire in his gut and Poe's face, his eyes, his voice, are the gasoline. Jet fuel.

Why is Poe doing this to him? Why now? Why after weeks of tears, loneliness, and self-hatred, does he show up when John is finally starting to feel okay about himself and being alone?

Hell, he'd even gotten a little action with Jim earlier. If you could call it that.

It's like Poe knows. He's always known, somehow. How to get under John's skin. How to make him look at him, want him, and love him. How to make him feel small, or big. Like something, or like nothing at all.

For a while, he almost had John convinced he was something special. Until he wasn't. John can't forget that day. Poe walking into his office and breaking his heart like it was nothing at all. Because he'd been thinking about it. John doesn't know for how long.

While John smiled and laughed and loved him. The biggest joke of all.]

Uh huh. So what you're saying is you fucked up. Got it.

And?

[ He's losing steam. Not that he had a whole lot to begin with. Not that he'd mapped out contingencies or done any of the shit that he... never really does anyway.

He can't help thinking about that anonymous post, about how many people told him to take the chance, to apologize, to talk things through, to see if he could get forgiveness or at least get closure. Victor reminding him that he can't keep waiting to go home forever. That eventually, he has to live here and now. Poe realizing he didn't want to be here and now without John.

He's not sure what this is. It's not forgiveness, that's for damn sure, no matter what John might say. The 'apology accepted' couldn't have been a clearer 'fuck off.' ]

And I wanted... I hoped maybe we could talk. That I could explain. Finding my mom's ship out there, like that, it....

[ Not here, not in this place, not in this open room where anyone can walk in and hear them talking. ] Could we maybe--could we go talk in the shuttle?

Edited 2018-07-09 03:11 (UTC)

[John doesn't understand. He really doesn't.

Is Poe a sadist, or is he just stupid? It doesn't matter what Poe's reasons were. Not anymore. They're over. If they were ever anything to begin with.

John has his doubts. He doesn't know what Poe wanted then, or now. None of it makes any sense. Why he picked John is even more confusing than why he left him. There are a hundred reasons why. Ask his father. Ask Nancy. Ask Teyla, who was never with him because she was smart enough to know better.

He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. Fingers clenching into his forearms hard enough to bruise. John doesn't notice. He feels nothing but the blood pumping through the veins, and all of the anger he's been swallowing for the past month, rising like bile in his throat.]

Sure. Why not.

[What does he have to lose? They both know the answer to that.

Maybe knowing will make it hurt less, or maybe it won't, but it can't get any worse than this. He's already fallen far enough to break his neck, what's a couple more storeys?]

[ Poe hesitates, starts to turn toward the exit, then stops again. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? It would be worse if John just told him to fuck off, wouldn't it? He sees the grip John has on his own arms, the way his skin is dimpling white around John's fingertips.

Poe isn't sure why John hasn't told him to fuck off, unless there's some small chance that they can come back from this.

But more than all of that, alarm bells are ringing. Even after what Poe did, John has always been sure, steady, kind. He's always been even-tempered and caring. At worst he's been shut off. Guarded.

He's never given Poe the impression that he wants to punch him in the throat before. Poe almost wishes John would just punch him, instead of speaking so calmly and showing his hand at the same time. ]

John... Is something going on? Are you okay?

Never been better.

[A mirthless smile, tilting his head to one side.

John can see it now, and he's not sure how he didn't see it before. Poe is uncomfortable. More than uncomfortable. He's scared. John shivers. It goes right down his spine.

Finally. Poe knows how John feels around him. How he's felt since Poe gutted him, and so kindly left him alone to lick his wounds. Even Nancy hadn't hurt him that bad. With Nancy, John saw it coming. He was as ready for those divorce papers as she was, but after? They'd went to dinner. Talked about the good times, and the bad, and how much better they could appreciate each other apart.

He was with Nancy for years, and with Poe for months. Just a couple. Nothing, in the scheme of his nearly thirty-eight year lifespan. Poe shouldn't have been able to hurt him the way he did.

But he had. Because in all John's years with Nancy, he'd never let her see as much as Poe saw. He's never let anyone see that much of him. Not his family, or his friends. Not even John's team has seen him cry like Poe has, or heard him beg, or watched him fall to pieces.

He can't imagine how that must have looked. Doesn't want to. It makes him sick to think about.

Usually, John keeps that sick deep down. Hidden away from everyone and everything. To spare them from the reality of who he really is, because if they did know, they would leave him too.

Today? John doesn't want to swallow. He's sick of the bitter taste in his mouth whenever he sees Poe's face. Today, he wants Poe to taste it too.

John follows after him, no, not follows. Stalks. Walks with all the purpose and steady grace of a jaguar. Still smiling, but with teeth.]

Why are you here, Poe? Stop pretending you care.

This isn't about me. This is about you wanting to to make yourself feel better. If you cared, you wouldn't have done what you did. Wasn't that the whole point? That you didn't care? That you'd changed your mind about me, about us?

News flash. Nothing's changed. I'm still the same asshole you left, and we weren't together long enough for this to be nostalgic.

[ Poe stops at the base of the shuttle's ramp, trying to decide if he's more shocked or more hurt. It's hard to pull one feeling away from the other. ]

That isn't true.

[ It sounds more wounded than he means it to, a lot more pathetic than he means it to. Weak, soppy, like some day-cycle holosoap.

The other things he could say sound just as pathetic in his head. I do care, you're not an asshole, I didn't change my mind.

Is this a bad time to talk? ]

I'm not trying to be nostalgic, John, I want... I miss... [ Fuck. ] Look, if you want me to fuck off, I'll fuck off.

You miss what, Poe? You miss what.

[Poe stops. John doesn't. He shoves Poe up into the shuttle and closes the fuselage doors behind them. Poe wanted privacy? Here's privacy. More than Poe gave him.

Why had Poe done that to him in his office, at work? How was John supposed to react? After he'd left the room John couldn't let himself cry. Chyler or Finn could've walked in at any moment. John had to make the walk of shame out of the PG and all the way to his house, and by then he'd held everything in for so long all he could do was pour himself a drink and stare at the wall.]

Tell me, I want to know. The sex? The way I'd follow after you like a goddamn dog, begging for scraps? Yanking my chain? The attention? You don't need me for that. You don't need me.

What was it you got out of being with me, exactly?

Edited 2018-07-09 04:58 (UTC)

[ Shit. Poe's back almost hits the wall opposite the doors. He's startled briefly into silence. That was a hard shove.

He deserves this. He deserves all of this, and it occurs to him very suddenly that this is half the reason he was getting in bar fights, over and over, punishing himself the way John wouldn't.

But there are alarm bells ringing. Something isn't right here, something is very far from right. ]

I miss you. [ He misses John's eyes, his smell, his hips and his ears and his voice. He misses sharing stories about their homes, telling John about the planets he's seen and hearing about the ones John's been to. Talking about the ships they've flown and the ones they'd give anything to try. Lying together in early-morning sunlight, knowing there's nowhere they have to be. There's so much he misses. So much.

He just has no idea how to say any of that. He has no idea how to explain that John was the closest to home he'd gotten on this godforsaken moon, that when John was with him he felt half-way whole. ]

I miss you.

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