When John found the small stack of photographs in Rodney's top drawer, he hesitated. Instinct told him to flip them over and give them a quick look. Self-preservation told him to hold that thought.

"Rodney?"

"Top drawer, green shirt," Rodney called back through the open door to the bathroom.

John picked up the photos and the shirt and carried them both to the door. Rodney took the shirt and pulled it on, running a hand over his disheveled hair before noticing the photos.

"Are you asking me if you can look at those?"

"Yeah?" John straightened the edges of the stack uncertainly.

Rodney breezed past him, deftly snatching the pictures from his hand. "Well, come on."

He flopped down on the bed and waited for John to join him, then handed him the photos. "Go ahead."

John dealt them out onto the bed like playing cards before really looking at them. They were of Rodney. Younger, slimmer, dressed up in a dark suit and tie, with a lower hairline and longer hair - wavy, huh - looking happy. Happy with a tall, blonde woman in his arms. Several of the photos were silly, Rodney with the stem of a rose clutched in his teeth, holding the laughing woman in a classic tango pose; Rodney and the woman tumbled in a heap on a sofa; Rodney alone, gesturing at the camera with a half-eaten chicken leg, his tie askew, his suit jacket rumpled.

John stopped with his fingers on the edge of one picture - Rodney and the blonde woman wrapped in each other's arms, slow dancing. Rodney was smiling, his face tilted down to hers, and she was smiling back.

"That's Jenna," Rodney said softly. "My ex-wife. Those are at our wedding reception."

John tried to speak, and had to clear his throat. "I didn't know you were married."

"Yeah," Rodney said, his voice wistful. "Didn't last."

"But you kept these; brought them here." John shuffled them back into a stack, the slow-dancing photo on top.

Rodney took the pictures, glancing down at them before sliding them carefully onto his bedside table. "Well, yeah." He said. "She...um...well, she loved me. It was kind of a big thing."

John looked at Rodney, who was looking down at his hands. "What happened?"

Rodney looked up and laughed, but his eyes were sad. "She thought the second doctorate was the end of it - the late nights and endless work and me being an asshole. Real research was worse."

"She left you?" John couldn't keep a sliver of anger out of his voice.

Rodney stroked his forearm gently. "She tried to stay; it was just too much."

John nodded and leaned back against the pillows before pulling Rodney into his arms and down onto his chest. "She's not the only one, you know," he said, holding tight. "To love you."