[open/closed] I watched a change in you

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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.

Comments

[volitaunt]

[ 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?

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[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?]

[volitaunt]

[ 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?

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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.

[volitaunt]

[ 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.

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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?

[volitaunt]

[ 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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Fuck you, Poe. You're full of shit.

[He's always wanted to say that. He's always wanted to shove Poe, too. He shoves him again. Hard enough to hear the thump of his back against the wall. It's satisfying.

John's eyes cut over Poe's face. Those eyes he was so hung up on. The lips he still watches, when Poe isn't looking. Missing the way they felt against his skin, whispering words meant only for him. All that pretty bullshit he'd fallen for hook, line, and sinker.

It's so easy to say what he's thinking and feeling right now. Easier than it's ever been. All his deepest, darkest thoughts rearing their ugly heads.

And John doesn't care.]

You don't miss me. You miss someone chasing after you.

It was always me, wasn't it? Texting. Calling. Asking you out. Planning things.

You were never that interested. Not really. You just liked that I wanted you. If I were you, I'd miss me too. No one's done that for me. Probably because it's pathetic.

[His fingers fist into the front of Poe's jacket, giving him a shake. That feels good, too. It's so much easier than he thought it would be. In his dreams, he's confronted Poe. Chased after him when he left.

Sometimes John punches him. Others, he begs.]

I bet it was funny, huh? Some lieutenant colonel. More like lieutenant jackass.

Did you get off on my rank, was that it?

[volitaunt]

[ Poe is never speechless. Ask his parents, his instructors, his commanding officers. He's always got something to say. A snipe or a jab or a smart remark. He takes a kind of backwards pride in being the mouthy one, in frustrating patient people with his tongue.

He's speechless now. Speechless as his back hits the wall of the shuttle, speechless as John lays it all out, shakes him like a toy (he's so strong), asks Poe if he got off on John's rank. ]

That's not true.

[ Those same pathetic words. He can do better. He's always done better. Sharp mind, smart mouth. That's him.

He wants to believe that something is wrong here, that something is very wrong, but there's a mean little voice that says this is just everything John's been too nice to tell him until now. This is what John thinks of him, all John thinks of him, and Poe can't even come to his own defense.

John is the one who kept calling and texting and asking Poe out. It was always him. Why should he believe that Poe cared at all, when it's put like that?

Fuck, he's an asshole. He's such an asshole. ]

John, if you want to hit me.... [ This is so much worse than fighting with Karen those months ago, when she called him cruel for being honest. This is so much worse, because Poe doesn't have a leg to stand on, doesn't have conviction to back up his sense of something wrong. If he thought John was wrong, even a little bit wrong, he'd be pushing back, fighting back, arguing.

Maybe it's true. Maybe Poe doesn't miss him. Maybe Poe doesn't even know him. He thought he did, but it wouldn't be the first time he's been wrong about something here.

Fuck. He can feel his eyes burning. The last thing he needs, the fucking last thing he needs is to cry. ]