For svmadelyn’s Cuff ‘Em, Vamp ‘Em, or Just Make ‘Em Come Already Kink and Cliché Multi-Fandom Challenge: Bad guys (or, well, anyone) force our Intrepid Hero (or, um, villain) to fess up to feelings for Guy B.

Summary: An old friend needs McKay’s expertise, so he takes Sheppard as collateral. Getting Sheppard back may prove to be harder than expected when McKay realizes they’re dealing with a lunatic. McKay/Sheppard.

Spoilers: Up through and including 3×20 First Strike.

*

“I believe I have found us a fully-functioning ZPM,” Teyla said.

In retrospect, her words should have been the first sign something was wrong. Not because Teyla was untrustworthy, or because John didn’t think she could really find them a ZPM, but because things didn’t really fall into their laps like that, not without something bad happening. They found an advanced civilization; it was full of human-form Replicators. They found an Ancient ship; the entire crew (plus Wraith) was in statis. They found an Ancient weapon outpost; it had the potential for tearing a hole in the space-time continuum. It was almost like the Ancients had wanted to trip them up.

John wasn’t suspicious, though, because he was distracted by Rodney jumping on him the instant he walked into the briefing room: “Kusangi found some of the whales living off the mainland, I thought you might want to go check it out later? Maybe my friend will be there.”

He looked so eager that John would have to be a jerk to say no. Besides, he liked whale watching with Rodney; it was relaxing, and Rodney was good company. So John said, “Sure,” as he headed for his usual seat. Rodney followed at his heels.

“Excellent,” said Rodney. He looked happy, and John bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. “It’s a date. Not a date-date, just a friendly get-together between two single men, that is in no way romantic or sexual in nature.” Rodney paused, then added desperately, “Oh look, everyone’s here.”

So when Teyla made her announcement, John was busy wondering what the hell was wrong with Rodney. Of course, he’d been asking that question for three years and hadn’t come up with an answer yet.

“Hold on, did you say a ZPM?” John asked, finally realizing what this meeting was about. “They’ll let us just waltz in and take it?”

Teyla nodded. “Yes. However, there is one problem. The world on which the ZPM lies is very… conservative.” She looked kind of uneasy. Or she really had to pee; John never could tell with her. “They have very… traditional values, and do not like… certain groups of people.”

Elizabeth’s brows knitted together in a way that told John she completely understood what Teyla meant. He hoped he wasn’t the only one lost here. It’d be really embarrassing when he got through the gate and had no idea what was supposed to come next. The last time he’d done that — after daydreaming during one of Rodney’s long explanations about some Ancient thing that was really important and would help him do blah blah Ancient technology blah, whatever, John didn’t need to know how it worked, just that it did — his team had ended up walking into the middle of a civil war. Which they’d realized when both sides had stopped their battle in order to chase them back to the stargate. John had been on worse missions, sure, but he really didn’t want to be hounded by three hundred guys on Segways equipped with rocket launchers. Again.

“Teyla, are you saying what I think you’re saying…?” Elizabeth trailed off.

“Yes,” Teyla said gravely, “they have banned both musical theatre and tight pants.”

“Then it’s a good thing my pants are already loose,” John said, throwing Rodney a smirk.

Rodney slowly looked up from his tablet to stare at him. Elizabeth rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

Teyla studied John for a long moment, then, as if deciding something, turned back to Elizabeth. “Perhaps I should take Major Lorne’s team. Since…”

“Since what?” John asked.

They both ignored him. “That might be a good idea,” Elizabeth said.

“Wait, wait,” Rodney cut in. He held up a hand. “Seriously? I didn’t think people in this galaxy felt that way. I thought you were all about how important it is to live life to the fullest before you’re sucked dry — very painfully, might I add — by a Wraith.”

Ronon swiveled his chair to make a face at Rodney. John leaned forward a little just to make it easier for the big guy. “Have I ever said anything like that to you?”

“You tell me to calm down a lot,” Rodney pointed out.

“Hey, we can do this,” John said to Teyla. He leaned back again and flashed a smile at Elizabeth. “It won’t kill us to pretend to be ‘traditional’ and ‘conservative’ for a few hours, right, guys?”

Ronon snorted. “Maybe McKay and I can,” he muttered, almost too quiet for John to hear.

“I know I say this all the time, so it’s probably lost all meaning by now, but we are so going to die,” Rodney said.

“John, if you’re sure,” Elizabeth said, sounding uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he replied sharply. He was getting irritated at everyone’s assumption he’d screw this up. He didn’t screw up nearly as much as Rodney did when it came to making new friends, but no one was questioning him. “We’ll go in, play nice, grab the ZPM, and be back in time for dinner.”

Teyla reached across the table to grip John’s hand. “I should also point out they have banned styling products.”

“Going to die,” Rodney repeated, sing-song.

*

“What’s this planet called again?” John asked, while the team waited for Rodney to finish yelling at Sergeant Campbell and join them. It was the usual pre-mission chaos. (“No, this goes here, and that one goes there,” Rodney was saying. “Are you a complete imbecile or did they teach you how to blow up Ancient tech at RMC?” “Oh, is that why there was a post-it stuck to it with ‘do not remove’ written on it?” Campbell asked sarcastically, and Rodney sputtered.)

Teyla tore her gaze away from Ronon twirling his gun — What a show off, John thought — to give John an impatient look. He had a feeling she’d said the name enough times for him to remember it by now. “Eternia.”

“Eternia?” John asked.

“Eternia,” Teyla said.

John was still trying to wrap his mind around that when Rodney came bumbling down the stairs, carrying his tablet under his arm. “I swear to God I can’t leave these people alone for a second,” he complained. “Anytime I step offworld it’s, ‘I can’t get the DHD to work, Dr McKay,’ ‘I don’t understand what these results mean, Dr McKay,’ ‘I pushed the wrong button and now the city’s come to life and is using the ventilation tubes to choke us to death, Dr McKay.’”

John rolled his eyes. “We know, we’d all be–”

“Dead without me? How nice of you to notice my incredibly hefty responsibility for the lives of everyone in the city, including yourself, Colonel.”

“You only tell us that every day,” said John.

Rodney bristled. “I do not.”

“You told me this morning at breakfast I’d better give you the last muffin because later you might be too hungry to save my life,” Ronon said dryly, coming up to stand beside John.

“Yes, well,” Rodney sniffed, “it was blueberry. You know they’re my favourite.”

John shared a smirk with Ronon. Behind him, the gate whooshed as it activated. He waved goodbye at Elizabeth before turning back to his team; Elizabeth made a strange gesture back at him. “Ready to head to Castle Greyskull on planet Eternia, Dr McKay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I can’t call it that,” Rodney said.

“I do not see why that name is so funny,” Teyla said.

John was about to walk through the event horizon when Elizabeth suddenly rushed down the steps, looking peeved. “John,” she called, “I was trying to tell you something earlier.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, “don’t trade any weapons, don’t make any new enemies, don’t hit on any women.”

“Actually, I was going to say that maybe you should let Ronon and Teyla do the talking on this one.”

John didn’t know what to say to that. Teyla, he understood, but Ronon? Really? “Why?” he asked apprehensively.

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin. He was getting the feeling she was embarrassed for some reason. “I think given how their society idealizes masculinity, Ronon would be the best choice to–”

“Hey, I’m very manly,” John interrupted. He was starting to get angry here. What, did a guy have to be as built as Ronon to go to a world where they’d banned tight pants? “I am so manly. Killed-things-with-my-bare-hands manly.”

He caught McKay’s exaggerated grimace of the corner of his eye. Pissed, John whirled on his teammates; all three of them quickly dropped whatever faces they were making.

“Yes, we get it,” Rodney said to him, sounding irritated. He used his hands to outline something that might’ve been John’s body. “You have a big gun and you’re tall and lean and have an ass that just won’t quit. We know.”

John frowned. “I have a what?”

“I can talk for everyone,” Ronon cut in. John glared. Ronon added, “If it comes to that.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “John, no one is questioning your manliness.”

He wasn’t mollified. It was like everyone knew something he didn’t. “Yeah?” he demanded. “Then what are you questioning?”

Elizabeth and Teyla glanced at each other. “That’s not important,” Elizabeth said. “What’s important is getting out of this mission without causing an interplanetary incident. If the people of Eternia — John, Rodney, stop snickering — won’t let us have the ZPM, don’t push it. We’re doing perfectly fine with the one we have now.”

This time it was Rodney’s turn to squeak, “What?”

John nodded at her. “You got it,” he said. But he knew if the people of Eternia weren’t using their ZPM, and there was a chance they could get it without anyone getting hurt, his team was making a break for it. He’d had enough Replicator attacks to last him a lifetime, and who knew what Rodney could do with two ZPMs at his disposal. Having a shield that lasted more than a day or two would make up for Elizabeth being angry with him.

Elizabeth pressed her lips into a thin line. “Be safe,” she said, backing up.

John turned back to the still-open gate. Teyla stepped up beside him. “John,” she said quietly, “please behave less… friendly towards the inhabitants of this world than you would under normal circumstances. This is very important.”

“Why does everyone on this planet sound like a jerk?” John asked, but his words were swallowed up by the wormhole.

The world on the other side was completely flat. Brown and green plains stretched for miles and miles, disappearing into the blue horizon. Within a few yards of the gate was a village consisting of wood buildings with wide porches and swinging doors. Something that looked like a zebra was tied to a stake in front of what was probably, from the looks of things, a saloon. Aside from the stone monuments in the near distance, and the very alien print on the windows of the shops, it looked as if they’d stepped into an old Spaghetti Western. A few of the people on the street paused to stare at them. Well, they’d been to plenty of Medieval worlds, and even a couple of Blade Runner worlds; it was only a matter of time before they’d find a cowboy world.

“This is so not what I was expecting from a planet named ‘Eternia,’” Rodney said, sounding disappointed.

“Maybe we’re in the Plains of Perpitua,” said John.

“How do you know so much about He-Man?” Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. “Hold on, half-naked warriors with bulging muscles and swords? Why do I even ask.”

Ronon looked at John over Rodney’s head. “Big swords?”

“We’ll watch some when we get back, buddy,” John promised, slipping on his sunglasses.

Rodney pulled out the life signs detector. “I’m not reading any energy sources here. Teyla, you’re sure your contacts meant this planet?”

“Yes, they were very specific,” she replied.

A group of men exited from the saloon-like building and headed towards John’s team. They didn’t look particularly angry or menacing, but John gave Teyla and Ronon the signal to get ready. In his experience, it was always the nicest-looking aliens who were the most deadly. While the locals may or may not have been dangerous, there was one thing for sure: they looked a lot like lumberjacks, with their flannel shirts, suspenders, and worn boots. John was kind of disappointed they weren’t cowboys instead.

“Hey, look, Rodney, here come some of your people,” he said.

Rodney scowled at him. “We didn’t exactly have a lot of lumberjacks in Windsor, I’ll have you know.”

The group stopped in front of John’s team. They didn’t seem to be reaching for any weapons. One of the men, however, was staring at John’s hair with a poisonous look on his face. His own hair was flat and frizzy; he must’ve been jealous. It wasn’t John’s fault they’d banned gel on Eternia.

“Hey,” John said, stepping forward confidently. He gave the man his most charming grin.

“Stop that,” Rodney hissed, “are you trying to get us killed?”

“I’m not doing anything,” John muttered back, annoyed. To the locals, he called, “We’re visitors. We don’t mean any harm. Can we talk to whomever’s in charge here?”

The men exchanged glances with each other, but remained silent. John shared a glance of his own with Teyla, finally getting why she’d told him to lay low: “Conservative and traditional” was code for “xenophobic and deadly.” He continued smiling as he adjusted his grip on his P-90.

Ronon shouldered his way to the front of their group, one hand on his holstered gun. “We need to see your leader,” he said roughly.

Like most people, they seemed to cower beneath Ronon’s hugeness. Okay, maybe Elizabeth had been right about Ronon being the one to do all the talking. “The Master of the Universe is this way,” said one of them.

John barely managed in time to turn his laugh into a cough. Rodney made a choked off sound of his own. “Oh my God, we really are on Eternia,” Rodney said gleefully.

“Thank you,” Teyla said serenely, completely ignoring the both of them. “Would it be too much trouble if you were to lead us to him?”

“Follow me, please,” the man replied, giving Teyla a serene smile of his own. John rolled his eyes.

They trailed behind the native as he pointed out the various sites to Teyla: the saloon, the general store, the zebra veternarian. John stopped paying attention to the conversation and focused on the scenery instead; people were peeking at them from behind windows or around corners, but he didn’t see any signs of weapons. Their guide didn’t seem to be carrying anything either, from what John could see. Ronon would probably be able to tell if he had something stashed away, though. John kept smiling and nodding whenever Teyla or the man glanced over at him, and suddenly the guy was saying something to him and he didn’t know what it was.

He glanced at Rodney for support; Rodney made a face that John interpreted as, ‘You think I was paying attention?‘

“I’m Elon,” said the man.

He punched John in the shoulder. Hard. So hard, in fact, that John’s back went stick-straight as he tried not to double over in pain.

“Uuugh,” John replied. “I mean, hey there.” He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. He’d been thinking this guy was kind of hot, but now he was totally taking that back.

“Welcome to Eternia,” Elon added pleasantly.

“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, this is Rodney and Ronon, and I guess you’ve met Teyla,” he managed, hoping no one else heard the strangled tone in his voice. He punched Elon’s shoulder in return, with as much force as he could muster; Elon didn’t even looked fazed. Just what he needed, a planet full of people with Ronon’s stamina. He really didn’t want to have to go back to Atlantis and explain he got beaten up by a lumberjack.

“Is that how you greet each other here?” Rodney asked worriedly, backing away before Elon could punch him too.

“How do you greet each other on your world?” Elon asked, looking puzzled.

“They shake hands,” Ronon said. “This makes way more sense to me.”

“You mean you touch each other? In such a vulnerable spot?” Elon sounded appalled.

“Are you okay?” Teyla asked John quietly, gently touching his uninjured shoulder. The other shoulder hurt like a bitch. It hurt way more now than when Teyla and Ronon beat him up. and they were by far the strongest people he’d ever met.

“Never better,” he said weakly. “This is nothing.”

The tour continued; as they made their way to wherever it was Elon was leading them, they came across a man in a Medieval pillory, stuck between two buildings. His head hung low, and his hands were pink from being locked in place for so long. It looked really out of place for a village set in the Old West.

“What did he do?” Rodney asked, pointing. “I don’t want to get chained up like that.”

Elon shook his head. “He did something unbecoming of an Eternian. He cried. In public.”

“He cried,” Rodney repeated flatly.

“In public,” John reminded him, bumping his uninjured shoulders against Rodney’s.

“Yeah, and just because his father died,” said Elon. “Can you believe it?”

“What a pussy,” Ronon said dryly. There was a sound behind John like flesh hitting flesh, and Ronon “oomph”-ed; John glanced over his shoulder to see Teyla glaring and Ronon sheepishly rubbing his arm.

*

At the entrance to a building, Elon stopped them and said, “Here’s where I leave you. This is the home of the Master of the Universe. He’ll be able to answer all your questions.”

“Thank you, Elon,” Teyla said graciously.

As he passed John, Elon socked him in the shoulder again. John barely held back a manly squeak of pain. “Be seeing you, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard,” he called, but it didn’t sound all that inviting.

“Yeah, bye,” John replied stiffly. He was going to have bruises on top of bruises from this.

“Every time he hits you, your whole body kind of seizes up,” Rodney said, looking gleeful. “It’s pretty funny.”

John punched Rodney in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Rodney complained, drawing away from him. He rubbed his arm, making betrayed faces.

“See how you like it,” John said crossly.

Ronon snickered. Teyla rolled her eyes and said, “If you are done…?”

The building Elon had left them at was higher than the others in town, four stories to the others’ one or two. It was built from the same reddish wood. There wasn’t a porch attached to the front, but there was a sign hanging over the door, in Eternian or whatever the local language was called. When they stepped through the door, a tiny bell chimed, like they were at a store and not the home of a leader.

“Come in, come in,” said a male voice, from somewhere beyond the foyer.

Following the voice, John turned the corner — and stopped dead in his tracks. Rodney slammed into his back and yelped, “Hey, watch it, did you forget how to walk in the one point five seconds it took you to– Jesus Christ on a cracker.”

Elon had led them directly to a man who was wearing a white robe and sandals. His long hair and beard were both light brown. The expression on his face was peaceful. John had been to a lot of strange planets during his brief stint in this galaxy, but this was one of the few times he was dumbstruck by what he saw.

“Hello, my children,” said the man. He rose from his polished wooden throne and spread his arms. “Welcome to Eternia. I am the Master of the Universe. How may I help you?”

From the way they greeted him, Ronon and Teyla didn’t seem to think anything was odd, but Rodney pulled John away by the back of his tac vest.

“Cowboy planet, lumberjacks, son of God,” he whispered, ticking them off his fingers. “Where the hell are we?”

“This is like all my childhood fantasies and nightmares rolled into one,” John whispered back. “Except this time I’m not wearing hotpants.”

“Is that part of the nightmare or part of the fantasy?” Rodney asked suspiciously.

Teyla bowed her head at the Master of the Universe. “Thank you for welcoming us on your world. We are in search of a device, and were wondering if you might help us locate it.”

He gestured for them all to sit at a long table that sat before his throne. The set up reminded John of the Tower’s “throne room” on the planet with the Ancient city, except instead of a room with stained glass and marble floors the Master of the Universe’s court had wooden floors and walls, and a fireplace on the left-hand wall. It was more like a house than a palace.; John wondered if the guy lived on the other three floors.

John and Teyla each took a seat; after throwing Ronon and Rodney a glare or two, the rest of their team followed. John started yet another round of introductions: “I’m Lieutenant Co–”

“I know who you are, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard,” the Master of the Universe said, expression shifting from open to wary, and John stiffened. “I was told of your arrival the moment you entered my village. Who you are doesn’t concern me as much as why you are here. Why are you here?”

“We have come to ask your permission to allow us into your ancestral temples,” Teyla asked.

The Master of the Universe looked startled. “You ask permission to pray to our gods?”

“Oh please,” Rodney murmured under his breath.

“I am afraid not,” Teyla said calmly, as if she hadn’t heard Rodney. “We are hoping your temples contain a… sacred relic, of which we are in great need. It would have been put in your temples a long, long time ago.”

John leaned forward, catching the man’s eye. “It would really mean a lot to us if you’d give us permission. We promise we won’t touch anything but our, uh, sacred zero point module.” He gave his best, most innocent smile (the one that almost always worked on Elizabeth, but never on General Landry), but the Master of the Universe looked perplexed. His mouth puckered like he’d bitten into something sour, which really wasn’t the response John had been hoping for. Maybe he was losing his touch.

A hand on his shoulder abruptly pulled him back. “Christ, Sheppard, tone it down,” Rodney whispered in his ear.

John frowned. “What?”

“You need to be more careful here,” Ronon quietly said to him.

“I’m not acting any differently than I always act,” John hissed.

“Exactly,” Rodney murmured.

Rodney’s breath was warm on John’s cheek, and he felt a twinge of disappointment when Rodney sat up straight again. The Master of the Universe’s gaze flickered between the two of them, and, if it was possible, he looked even more leery.

“Look,” Rodney said, “all we want is what’s in the temple. It’s important to us, and completely useless to you. Just let us in; we’ll be gone before you know it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Teyla stiffen. He discreetly kicked Rodney in the shins. “Like I said, it would really mean a lot to us,” he said, as Rodney’s face reddened.

The Master of the Universe gave him a look. “You would be interested in allying with us?”

John wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Well…”

“Our leader would be willing to discuss an alliance with you,” Teyla said, much to John’s relief. “After we have received our sacred relic.”

“I would like to return your artifact to you, but I’m concerned you will go back on your word and rob us,” said the Master of the Universe. “Our temples are filled with many riches, you understand. People have tried to steal from us before.”

Ronon slammed a hand on the table, causing everyone to jump. “I give you my oath, on the Warrior’s Code of Sham-lok Cha, we won’t take anything but what belongs to us.”

The Master of the Universe regarded Ronon with respect. “That is a powerful statement,” he said.

“You have my warrior’s whatever too,” John offered, puffing out his chest.

“That is a great insult coming from someone like you,” said the Master of the Universe. A look of disdain that strong looked really weird coming from someone who looked like John’s so-called personal Lord and Saviour.

“Hey, my hair naturally does this,” John protested. Rodney sent him a disbelieving look and mouthed, “What?” John pointedly ignored him.

“It’s okay, he’ll do what I say,” Ronon said. He slung an arm across the back of Teyla’s chair, looking smug. “McKay’s my scientist, Teyla’s my woman, and Sheppard’s my man-servant. I’m the one really in charge here. So it’s okay if we go to your temples now, right?”

John was going to kill Ronon as soon as they found the ZPM.

“Ronon,” Teyla snapped, as Rodney sputtered. John was still too bewildered to say anything. “I am not your woman.”

The Master of the Universe nodded at Ronon. “This is acceptable to me. Make sure he doesn’t put his filthy hands on anything.”

“Now you have proof Jesus really does hate you,” Rodney whispered, and John grit his teeth.

*

The way to the temple was bright and sunny. Rodney was absolutely miserable. The sun was warm and shining (sunburn), the field was dotted with blue and yellow flowers (allergies), and the air was full of butterflies and insects zipping around (West Nile and Malaria). The worst part was Sheppard was clearly lost and leading them around in circles, despite the temples being huge and obvious. He didn’t understand how this man had ever fought in a war. Or how he managed to get from his quarters to the control room every day. One morning Rodney was going to wake up to Sheppard calling for help over the radio, saying he’d been on his way to the washroom and had somehow ended up in a flooded corridor.

“I can’t believe you got us lost,” Rodney grumbled. “Oh wait, yes, I can.”

Sheppard looked at him. He was wearing his sunglasses, but Rodney could tell he was glaring. “We’re not lost. We just… took the long way. I know exactly where we’re going.”

“Next planet, I’m leading,” Ronon muttered.

Rodney glanced down at the life signs detector. “I’m still not picking up any energy spikes. Teyla, you’re sure–?”

“As I said before, I am sure this is the correct location,” Teyla interrupted sharply.

It took them nearly two hours to reach the nearest temple, a stone ziggurat surrounded by old, gnarled trees that were probably infested with all sorts of diseases. And ticks. Rodney was so going to get Lyme Disease from this excursion.

“Still not reading anything,” he announced.

“Maybe the stone’s blocking the signal,” Sheppard suggested. Rodney glanced up, mouth already open, but the way the sunlight hit Sheppard’s face and hair as he gazed into the distance, like a work of art, caused Rodney to completely forget what he was going to say.

They were almost to the door of the temple when the largest tree beside it began to shake. A figure dropped from the branches, head bowed, covered in moss and leaves. Rodney jumped back behind Teyla and Ronon, yelping. In a very manly way, of course.

“What took you so long?” asked a familiar voice.

It was none other than Aiden Ford, former lieutenant in the US Marine Corps and current Wraith enzyme abuser. He had leaves in his afro, and his clothes (leather, of course, although they were obscured by mud, moss, and twigs) were wrinkled and looked slept-in, but the fresh face and creepy black eye were definitely Ford’s. He peered at them all and grinned.

“Ford!” Rodney, Sheppard, and Teyla exclaimed at once, but each in a different tone. Rodney didn’t think Sheppard’s half-hopeful cry or Teyla’s surprised shout meant what Rodney’s “Ford” did, which was, “Oh my God, everyone back to the gate before we get murdered by a junkie space pirate.” Ronon, at least, pulled out his gun and aimed it at Ford’s head, but Ford didn’t look concerned.

In fact, he looked pissed. That was probably from the Wraith enzyme. He was probably high out of his mind right now. “Come on, guys, I’ve been sitting in that tree for three days. What the hell were you doing? It’s a fifteen minute walk from the stargate!”

“Sheppard got us lost,” Ronon said.

“I did not,” Sheppard snapped. To Ford, he asked, “What are you doing here? I thought– we thought you died on that hiveship.”

With a disgusted look, Ford picked a green bug out of his afro. “Nope, still alive and kicking. Did you seriously get lost, Colonel? Look at this. I had to start eating bugs and twigs to survive. Nature’s disgusting.” He held the insect out towards Sheppard.

“Ew,” said Sheppard, recoiling.

“Didn’t you used to live in a cave?” Ronon asked Ford.

Suddenly it made sense to Rodney why none of the morons on this planet had known anything about an energy source. It wasn’t that they were too primitive to recognize it; it had never been here to begin with. “You lured us here,” he accused, “for some– for some nefarious purpose, didn’t you?”

“Why do we keep falling for this?” Sheppard groaned.

“This is a trap?” Teyla demanded. “But I was told explicitly there was a zero point module on this world. These words came from Bartholeminus himself.”

No one knew what that meant. Everyone shifted awkwardly.

“My second cousin,” she added, sounding irritated she had to remind them.

“Yeah, him,” Sheppard said, “with the hair and the– eyes, and the– Yeah, I remember Bartholemy. What a guy.”

“Bartholeminus,” Teyla corrected.

“Can we get back to me?” Ford asked. He struck a dangerous pose. Although the moss and the mud really detracted from whatever evilness he was trying to project. He smirked at the team. “You were told what I wanted you to be told.”

Ronon bared his teeth. “Why’d you want us here?”

That was a good question. An excellent question, really, and Rodney’s chest tightened as he was torn between being outraged and terrified. Ford had left Atlantis, he couldn’t just show up whenever he felt like it and coerce them into helping him destroy the Wraith. It didn’t work that way.

Ford smiled at them. For a moment, he looked like his old self. “I was remembering some of the good times we used to have. Even after all this time, I still remember every little detail about you guys. Colonel Sheppard likes things that go fast. Teyla likes feeling useful. McKay likes…” Ford’s grin now was different from before; a cold shiver ran down Rodney’s back. This wasn’t the Ford who’d help them first explore the Pegasus Galaxy, the kid he, Sheppard, and Teyla had teased. This was the guy who’d gone planet to planet looking for Wraith to fight, hopped up on drugs. Ford was wild and unpredictable, and Rodney didn’t know what would happen if Ford shot him up with the enzyme again. Detox had nearly killed him the first time.

The memory of that particular adventure caused his rage to flare up again. “You knew us pretty well when you kidnapped us, almost turned us into drug addicts, and forced us to take part in your suicide mission,” he said, patience running out.

“What I mean is, we were tight.”

“Ford,” Sheppard started, sounding pained.

“And the thing is, being your teammate and all… I know all your secrets. Granted, some were easier to figure out than others,” he added, glancing at Rodney again with that weird black eye.

“What does that have to do with bringing us here?” Sheppard asked, face scrunching up in confusion.

Ford turned to Rodney. “I want you to make me something.” He reached into his coat; Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla jumped, bringing up their P-90s, but Ford merely drew out a rolled up piece of what appeared to be parchment paper and handed it to Rodney.

Rodney took it gingerly. It was heavier and thicker than it looked; he had no idea what could be on it. Ford had a degree in Psychology, for Christ’s sake. He didn’t know how to build anything outside of what the USMC had taught him. Which meant, Rodney thought sourly, it was probably plans for a bomb. “What is this?” he asked warily.

“Well, I was on Manara, and I got in this barfight, and when I woke up after the concussion I had this great idea. –”

“As is how all great plans are borne,” Rodney said sarcastically.

“–Wouldn’t it be nice if instead of having to go out and find a Wraith, I could capture one and take the enzyme whenever I need it?”

Rodney sneered, “If you think I’m helping you support your habit, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

Ford, faster than Rodney could have imagined — although he should have imagined this, because Ford was on the Pegasus version of steroids, and was probably having some sort of drug-induced fit — threw an arm around Sheppard’s neck. With his other hand he pressed a Genii-style gun to Sheppard’s temple. It all happened in the blink of an eye; Ronon and Teyla, with matching dumbfounded expressions, raised their weapons, but they didn’t fire. Even Rodney’s impressive brain stuttered to a halt.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sheppard demanded. He started to push back against Ford, but Ford’s arm visibly tightened around him.

“You’re building this for me, McKay,” Ford announced threateningly. “I need it.”

“What you need is to let me go,” Sheppard growled.

Rodney finally found his voice. “Ford, you’re freaking out. How many fingers am I holding up? Do you need a glass of water?”

“Ford, this isn’t the way to get what you want,” Sheppard said.

“Let him go,” Ronon demanded, pointing his gun directly at the two of them.

“If you shoot, you will hurt John,” Teyla said, grabbing Ronon’s arm.

Sheppard began: “Yeah, Ronon, that’s not really–”

“It’s set to stun,” Ronon replied.

“No!” Rodney shouted, and Teyla yelled, “Wait, Ronon!” But he didn’t listen to them; before they could do anything to stop him, he’d pulled out his gun and shot Ford. And because Ford’s arm was still around his neck, Sheppard.

Sheppard sagged, unconscious. Ford was the only thing keeping him upright. The same Ford who was very obviously not stunned by Ronon’s pistol.

“Oh,” Ronon said. He studied his gun. “Hmm.”

“He’s on the enzyme, you moron,” Rodney exclaimed.

“Hey, thanks, this makes things a lot easier,” said Ford. Sheppard’s head rolled back onto his shoulder; Ford adjusted his grip to wrap around Sheppard’s waist instead of around his neck. For an instant, Rodney felt stupidly, ridiculously jealous of Ford. “See, McKay, I told you, we were friends. I know all your secrets. And to make sure you build this thing that’s really important to me, I’m taking away the thing that’s most important to you, the thing I know you don’t want to live without.”

“My intelligence?” Rodney asked in horror.

Ford stared at him. “No, Sheppard. Jeeze, are things exactly the same as they were last time we met?”

“Pretty much,” Ronon replied.

“Yes, it is quite sad,” Teyla said.

Ford shook his head. “I know you’ll do whatever you can to get the Colonel back, McKay. You have one week to build what I need, or else I’ll kill him. Or maybe I’ll hand him over to the Genii; I haven’t really thought about it yet.”

Rodney went cold all over. “You wouldn’t do that!”

Growling, Ronon started to move towards him, but Ford took a step back. “I’ll shoot him before you can shoot me,” he warned. “Faster reflexes, remember?”

Ford hefted Sheppard over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. Granted, Sheppard was skinny, but it wasn’t like he was the size of a child (or Major Lorne). Rodney remembered how strong he’d been on the double dose of the enzyme, how he’d known he could have easily killed Ford’s goons with his bare hands without even trying. Ford could probably snap Sheppard in half like a twig. But that wasn’t what he did; instead he gave the team one last grin and dashed into the cluster of trees surrounding the temple.

Ronon made a feral sound in his throat and took off after him, Teyla at his heels.

Rodney gaped at the spot where his teammates had been before chasing after them. There was no way he could catch up to Ford — he couldn’t run as fast as Ronon and Teyla, with their crazy Pegasus genes that somehow gave them bodies of Olympic triathalon competitors — but there had to be something he could do to stop Ford from taking Sheppard God-knew-where. Anything. He was a genius, after all, surely he could come up with something.

He couldn’t have been running for more than five minutes when he heard the gate activate. Wow, it really was only a fifteen minute walk.

Ronon stepped out from behind a tree, chest heaving from exertion. Rodney wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and demanded, “Where–?”

“He pulled John through the stargate,” Ronon said grimly.

*

Their arrival in Atlantis wasn’t pleasant. It reminded Rodney of when Sheppard had been captured by Kolya, except this time a) they knew who had him, and b) it was all Rodney’s fault. He was extremely, painfully aware of that last part in particular. Teyla and Ronon were looking sombre and ferocious, respectively; as soon as they received back up, they could find Ford and tear him limb from limb if they wanted. Rodney, on the other hand, felt nauseated with terror.

“We need Marines,” he announced the second the wormhole closed behind them. “Ten, no, twenty of the toughest Marines in the city, at least two puddlejumpers, and the biggest guns we can find.” He cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted up to the control room: “Campbell, you hoser, see if you can locate Colonel Sheppard’s subcutaneous tracking device.”

“Uh, sure thing,” Campbell yelled back.

“Would using your radio not be easier?” Teyla asked.

“No, it would not,” he said snidely.

Elizabeth came running down the stairs. He met her halfway; she spun around to follow him up to the gate room. “Rodney, what’s going on? Where’s John?”

He leaned over Campbell’s shoulder and usurped his workstation as Ronon and Teyla explained the situation to her. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Actually, he could; these kinds of things always happened to him. Although how Ford knew about his stupid crush, he had no idea. He’d worked very hard to keep anyone, especially Sheppard, from finding out. It wasn’t so much he feared losing Sheppard’s friendship or having Sheppard make fun of him as it was he feared the crippling pain of rejection. He could handle people like the beautiful Samantha Carter saying no to him (over and over again), but when it was someone he truly wanted to be with, well. That was different.

Not that he was in love with Sheppard or anything, which was what Ford had been implying. The very idea was ridiculous. It was merely an infatuation. One which he’d been waiting three years to go away.

“So Ford was hiding in a tree,” Elizabeth was saying when he snapped back into focus, “and then Ronon shot John.”

“Yes,” Teyla said.

“That about sums it up,” Rodney agreed.

Ronon shifted silently, looking a little embarrassed.

Elizabeth tapped her radio. Her face was tight with worry. “Major Lorne, please come to the control room immediately. We have a situation.”

Rodney said, “Elizabeth, that is without doubt the strangest planet I’ve ever been to. I cannot begin to tell you how bizarre it was. It looked, from the outside, like one of those Wild West amusement parks, but it was filled with– with lumberjacks, of all things. Their leader — who called himself the Master of the Universe, which is so wrong — looked more than a little like Jesus. I suggest, in my official capacity as the smartest man in the city, and who are we kidding, the galaxy, no one from Atlantis ever visit Eternia again.”

He was desperate to convey to her how fucked up the situation was. They needed to send someone after Ford now; while they were wasting time, Ford was probably taking Sheppard to a space rave. They were going to have to send Sheppard to rehab, and then Sheppard would become a Born Again Christian or something and then decide he wasn’t gay anymore, and Rodney would have to watch him have sex with hot women instead of just tentacled energy aliens. Rodney’s life was one never-ending crapfest.

“Was there any reason Ford chose that planet specifically?” Elizabeth asked.

Campbell glanced up at Rodney. “I can’t find Colonel Sheppard’s signal on the long-range scanners,” he said quietly.

Rodney was beginning to feel helpless. He couldn’t stand feeling helpless. Being sad made him so angry. “I don’t know,” he told Elizabeth.

“Perhaps for the series of temples near the stargate,” Teyla said. “He knew he could hide there and wait for us to arrive.”

“He knew we’d go looking there first,” Ronon added.

Teyla placed a hand on Rodney’s arm. “Is there a way to use the data crystals to find out which address Lieutenant Ford dialed?”

“No,” he answered, disgusted by the very suggestion. “Dialing an address leaves an imprint on the control crystals, but it’s impossible to tell the order in which they were dialed. By the time we find which planet Ford went to, he’ll most likely have moved on. Or are you forgetting our last team reunion?”

Teyla looked as frustrated as he felt. It was at that point Lorne came jogging into the control room, shrugging on his tac vest. “I got here as soon as I could. What’s the problem?”

Teyla appeared to be about to leap into another long explanation, so Rodney beat her to it: “Colonel Sheppard was taken hostage and was lured — well, not lured, more like carried — through the gate by Ford. We have to find him before Ford does something unspeakable to him.”

“How’d he get Colonel Sheppard to go through the gate with him?” Lorne asked, looking shocked.

Everyone looked at Ronon.

Ronon raised his eyebrows. “I was aiming for Ford,” he said grumpily.

Lorne turned back to Rodney; as usual, Lorne only seemed to recognize he had something useful to contribute when the situation was dire. “What did the Lieutenant want?”

With a jolt of surprise, Rodney remembered the blueprints still clutched in his left hand. “Oh, right, yes,” he said, unrolling the paper, “he wanted–”

He took one look at the plans and felt his stomach bottom out. “Oh no.”

*

When John returned to consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that he lying was on a stone floor. The second thing he noticed was that his entire body ached; he’d had enough embarrassing experiences being stunned to immediately recognize it as the cause. Being hit by a stun blast had never looked this painful on Star Trek, that’s for sure. Groaning, he pressed his pounding forehead against the cold floor surface. “Ronon,” he moaned, “you’re so grounded for this.”

“I see you’re awake,” said Ford.

John rolled onto his back, startled. Ford was here and his team was not. That was definitely not good. He was carefully pushing himself into a sitting position when he realized his hands and ankles were bound in front of him.

“What’s with this?” he demanded. “What’s going on? Ford?”

“Yeah, I guess you missed that conversation, didn’t you,” Ford said. He pushed aside his leather jacket to kneel next to John, who had finally managed to sit up. “Sorry, Colonel, but taking you was the only way I could be sure McKay would make me my Enzyme O’ Matic. As soon as he delivers it, I’ll let you go back to Atlantis.”

John wasn’t sure which part of that explanation bothered him more. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll sell you for drug money,” Ford said frankly.

John grimaced. “You’re sounding uncomfortably like my father.”

Ford looked surprised. “Wow, sir, you have parents? Is your mom hot?”

“Ford, I’m, like, forty,” John said.

“So… no?” Ford asked.

*

“Ford– he– he tricked me,” Rodney gasped, horrified, holding the so-called blueprints away from his body. “These aren’t blueprints, they’re the scribblings of a madman. This was an elaborate ruse to capture Sheppard and keep him for himself! Or worse, hand him over to someone else. Oh God, you don’t think he sold Sheppard into sex slavery, do you?” He spun to face his remaining teammates. “Why didn’t one of you shoot him the minute we saw him? What use are you?”

“Rodney, please calm down before you say something you may regret,” Teyla said, the tone of her voice implying Rodney was supposed to be regretting a lot already.

But he couldn’t calm down, because Ford had given him a crude drawing of a syringe with a pump at the end. Nothing about it was scientific. Instead, it looked like something he’d expect from Loony Tunes. Every individual part was labeled, but with words like, ‘long ass needle’ and ‘enzyme sucker’; the outline of the suction device itself was drawn in a style similar to a child’s. Sheppard’s life depended on this?

Ronon pulled the blueprints out of Rodney’s hands and studied them. “Seems obvious to me. He wants you to build this thing that burrows into the Wraith’s arm and takes the enzyme without killing it. You can build that, right?”

Rodney snatched the plans back. “No, I cannot build that. Do I look like I know anything about Wraith physiology to you? The only way I could make something to extract the enzyme from a Wraith without killing it would be if I had a Wraith to experiment on.” He paused. “We couldn’t get a Wraith, could we?”

“No!” Elizabeth said.

“Worth a try,” he muttered.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Lorne, Teyla, and Ronon were heading back through the gate — without him. That was because Lorne was a moron who still, to this very day, despite all they’d been through, didn’t realize Rodney couldn’t sit around and twiddle his thumbs while Sheppard was being held captive by a crazy person. And something about how the last time Sheppard had been kidnapped and they’d gone looking for him, the only thing Rodney had taken out was a rat. When Lorne had said no to his going with them (his exact words had been, “God no”), Rodney had said, “But it’s my– team leader. Type. Person. Who’s been kidnapped,” and Lorne had just sort of… squinted at him like he knew all about Rodney’s stupid, stupid feelings.

He felt ridiculous and useless standing beside Elizabeth as his teammates and five hulking Marines disappeared through the event horizon.

“Welcome to my life,” Elizabeth told him, looking at him sympathetically.

“I’m only worried because the Colonel’s desire to be cool makes him easily susceptible to peer pressure,” he snapped.

There was no way he was going to be able to stand there until Lorne returned. So he did what any other sane, well-adjusted person would do in a situation like this: he went to Sheppard’s quarters and pretended he could detect a trace of cheap aftershave in the air.

Rodney looked at the surfboard Sheppard never used, the guitar he probably didn’t know how to play, the model airplanes he was stupidly proud of, the sheer, sparkly curtains he– actually, Rodney had no idea what those were about. Sheppard’s golf clubs were propped up in a corner. On his desk were his aromatherapy candles, organized by colour and scent, and normally Rodney would find that ridiculously anal and worry about Sheppard’s deteriorating mental state, but now it just made him sad. Which then, of course, made him angry. It was a vicious cycle of rage and melancholy.

Zelenka’s voice came over his radio: “Rodney? Where are you? Dr Weir said there is an emergency.”

“I’m in Colonel Sheppard’s quarters,” he replied.

A few minutes later, Zelenka came bustling in through the door. He had his tablet in one hand. “What is going on? Why are we in John’s room? And how did he get curtains that match his bedspread so well?”

Rodney wanted to punch someone. Like maybe Ford. Except hitting things inevitably led to bruised knuckles and him getting his ass handed to him. “Sheppard got taken by Lieutenant Ford. He wants me to build him this contraption so he can extract the enzyme from a Wraith without killing it.”

Zelenka gaped. “But why did he take John?”

“For his great conversation skills. Why do you think? To ensure I would follow his instructions.”

Zelenka started pulling something up on his tablet. “Can we track him using–?”

“No.” Rodney’s shoulders stooped. “I’ve already tried it. Either Ford has removed the subcutaneous tracker, or he’s taken Sheppard somewhere underground.”

“Maybe Major Lorne will find him,” Zelenka said hopefully.

*

“We couldn’t find him,” said Lorne.

He had the decency to look embarrassed. Teyla, however, looked murderous, and Ronon’s left eye was twitching. Rodney didn’t know what his expression was like, but Lorne glanced over at him and hastily added, “Sorry.”

Elizabeth pressed her palms flat against the tabletop. Rodney had seen her do that particular gesture enough times to know she was mentally counting to ten. “Teyla,” she asked, “what did your contacts say?”

Teyla’s lips thinned. “We traced the chain of information back to what appeared to be the original source. Unfortunately, it seems the person to whom Ford originally gave the false information was killed shortly after passing it along. I believe Ford himself killed this man to prevent us from finding him.”

“No one else we spoke to on the planet had seen or heard from Ford,” Lorne continued. “Although one or two did have some, uh, colourful things to say about Colonel Sheppard.”

“What kinds of things?” Rodney asked, appalled. How dare those backwards, unwashed, self-absorbed, Jesus freaks say anything bad about Sheppard!

“They thought he was a little gay,” Lorne said.

“Oh,” Rodney said, “well.”

“I think it’s time to ask our allies if they’ve heard anything,” Elizabeth said, narrowing her eyes.

“With all due respect, Dr Weir, I don’t think that’s going to do any good,” Lorne replied.

Lorne, Elizabeth, and Teyla began arguing all at once. But their bickering was pointless, because Rodney knew what he had to do.

He carefully rolled up his sleeves and stood. Lorne broke off his argument to stare at him; soon Elizabeth and Teyla were doing the same. “Someone get me a syringe, a Slinky, and a funnel,” Rodney said firmly. “I have an Enzyme O’ Matic to build.”

*

On the third day, Ford got the munchies and wandered away. He came back twenty minutes later carrying a dead animal. “Want some jackalope?”

“I think I’ll pass,” John said.

“Your loss, they’re delicious,” Ford answered. He stepped over John’s half-sprawled body.

John settled back against the wall as best he could. The leather rope (he really, really hoped it wasn’t a whip, because he seriously didn’t want to think about why Ford would have one) around his wrists had started chafing days ago. Across the cave, Ford was fumbling through a pile of junk. Sitting around waiting for the team to rescue him was fine and good — and his team would find him, they were awesome like that — but that might take too long. He knew from past experience a hopped up Ford was an unpredictable Ford, and he might sell John to the Genii (or worse) before Rodney pinpointed his location.

Ford didn’t have a posse any more, and he was living in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Maybe now John would be able to convince him to go back to Atlantis with him. This time Ford didn’t have anything to gain by being on his own. All he had to do was remind Ford how great life was before he got hooked on the enzyme. That would be a piece of cake.

He and Ford hadn’t spoken much since he’d woken up. Mostly, he had listened while Ford had ranted about things the SGC was supposedly keeping from them all, including something about Beckett having performed secret experiments on them while he was supposed to be doing pre- and post-mission physicals. So far every conversation had started with, “And here’s another thing the government doesn’t want you to know.” It really made John uneasy.

His mind made up — Operation: Get Back Ford — John casually stretched his legs. “You know what this reminds me of? That black market episode of the new Battlestar Galactica Rodney made me watch. Only instead of Apollo to save me, I’m waiting for McKay.”

Just as he’d expected, Ford perked up. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “Did they figure out the Cylons’ plan yet? The lack of decent cable in the Pegasus Galaxy really bums me out.”

“Season three sucked big time. I’d rather be strung out on drugs than watch that again.”

Ford stared at John, face impassive.

Uncomfortably, John said, “Maybe I will take some of that jackalope.”

Ford gutted and spit the animal. He hadn’t been kidding; it really was a jackalope. That was kind of messed up. John wondered where in the galaxy they were to be on a planet with real live jackalopes. The last time Ford had pulled this crap he’d taken them through the gate a few times so Atlantis couldn’t follow their trail. That had been the part of Ford that had remembered his training, the part John had spent weeks trying to appeal to. But last time he’d also been living off raiding the Genii, and had a fully-stocked base of operations, not a bunch of rubble tossed in a cave somewhere. For all John knew they were an entire galaxy away from Atlantis.

“What’ve you been up to since the hiveship blew up with you in it?” John asked.

Ford wiped his knife clean. “Planet-hopping, mostly,” he said with a shrug. “I thought I’d seen a lot working for the SGC, but, man, there are things in Pegasus you’d never believe. I’ve seen unicorns, talking animals, whales–”

“I’ve seen the whales,” John muttered under his breath.

“–Leprechauns — he told me to stay away from his pot of gold and then he stabbed me in the leg — monks, androids, you name it. I spent a night on a planet full of ninjas not too long ago. The last couple of months I’d been living on this world with these people who’ve reached Enlightenment, and they invited me to join their society. They know everything, even more than McKay. They told me Jesus wasn’t human.”

John repeated, “They told you about Jesus. In the Pegasus Galaxy.” A thought occurred to him. “Are you sure they weren’t talking about the Master of the Universe?”

Ford frowned. “What does He-Man have to do anything?”

John let his head fall back to hit the cave wall. After rummaging around his junk pile for a minute, Ford pulled out two metal plates. He cut off some jackalope meat and handed the plate to John, then sat himself just outside of John’s reach, Indian style. The sleeves of his leather coat rode up to reveal a series of intricate metal bangles. Ford was kind of starting to look like a character from Pirates of the Caribbean. Unfortunately for John, that character was not Johnny Depp.

“Come on, buddy,” John said, putting as much gentleness into his voice as he could muster while being bound and held against his will. Ford was a good guy. He was just going through some hard times right now. “Come back to Atlantis with me. I think that band you liked released a new cd since you’ve been gone. Death Cutie for Something?”

“Death Cab for Cutie?” Ford asked. A bead of sweat visibly broke out on his forehead. “No, no way, don’t even try it. I don’t need the old ways anymore. One thing I’ve learned being in this galaxy is you gotta take their enzyme before they take yours.”

“Humans don’t have the enzyme,” John pointed out. “That’s sort of a Wraith thing.”

Ford crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “Sorry, sir, but I’ve made up my mind. McKay’s going to make my Enzyme O’ Matic, and then I can kill all the Wraith.”

“What makes you think Rodney’s going to build you this Enzyme Whatever, and not just come here with the Daedalus and take you out?” John realized what he’d said. “Well, maybe Rodney wouldn’t take you out, but Ronon and Teyla are pretty scary when they’re angry. I know you remember the time you drank the last of Teyla’s tea and she made you cry like a little girl.”

Ford looked at him strangely. “He’ll do it because I told him I’d kill you, and he wouldn’t take that chance.”

“He’s not going to make you anything that can help you.”

“He will because he thinks you’ll die.”

“No, he won’t,” John said proudly.

“He–” Ford broke off, furrowing his brow. “Are you socially retarded or just really, really closeted?”

“What are you talking about?” John asked.

Now Ford sounded exasperated. “The reason I took you is because McKay’s in love with you. He’s going to build me whatever I want as long as it means you get back to him okay. He’s going to feel like he doesn’t have any choice.”

John started, “That’s–” Never going to work, he was going to say. But then he thought about how upset his team had been when Kolya had captured him. He hadn’t witnessed any of it firsthand, being stuck in Kolya’s pleasure palace and all, but Lorne and some of the Marines had dropped hints about how freaked out everyone had been, and when they’d gotten back to Atlantis Ronon had given him a bone-crushing hug that had hurt his newly-regenerated rib cage. If his team wasn’t here by now to rescue him, it meant the cave was deep enough to block his subcutaneous transmitter, and this time there wasn’t a Wraith around to team up with. The longer he was gone, the more his friends were going to panic. And Rodney had never been good at keeping cool under pressure.

“That’s a pretty good plan,” John said finally.

Ford smirked. “Yeah, I know.”

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Ford picked at a loose string on his leather coat; John wondered how hard it would be to hop his way to safety.

“Did you say Rodney’s in love with me?” asked John.

“For Pete’s sake,” Ford said.

*

Focusing on building the physical manifestation of Ford’s insanity held back the crushing waves of anxiety and fear which threatened to overcome him. As long as he had something to do, Rodney didn’t have time to contemplate how Sheppard, the only person in the entire universe who understood, and more importantly, still liked, Rodney, was suffering at the hands of Ford because of him.

The problem was, Rodney wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. For one, he had no way of knowing whether or not shoving a needle into a Wraith’s enzyme sac would kill it. For another, medical equipment wasn’t exactly his area of expertise. Bombs, shields, weapons, those were easy; if Ford had asked him to build a Wraith-crushing robot that ripped the enzyme sacs out of their arms, Sheppard would be sitting in the mess eating pudding right now. Whatever happened to the Ford whose main joy in life was blowing shit up?

Okay, so maybe Rodney could work and think about Sheppard at the same time. Damn his ability to multi-task.

“These are the plans Lieutenant Ford gave you? Where did he get crayons in this galaxy?” a voice asked.

Rodney’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as he was startled out of his revere. He dropped the screwdriver, scattering the gears he had lined up on the lab bench. “Do you mind?” he snapped, looking up.

“No, not really,” Elizabeth said dryly. She was holding the blueprints in her hands. “It’s amazing he was able to spell Enzyme O’ Matic without an ‘E.’ Or a ‘C.’ Or any ‘M’s.’ And what’s this, ‘Man, I could really go for some Taco Bell’?”

“Told you, crazy,” Rodney said, twirling a finger in the universal gesture for ‘insane.’

“How’s it coming?”

“It’s not.” Frustrated, he shoved his tools aside. He hated everyone. “I can’t do this. I have four days to build Ford this– this joke, and when he realizes that I couldn’t do it, he’s going to kill Sheppard. Or hand him over to the Genii rebels, who will kill him themselves. And not because he hates Sheppard, or because he finds Sheppard annoying, because let’s face it, most of our enemies hate him because he’s such a smart ass. But no, no, he’ll kill Sheppard for the sole purpose of punishing me.” He stared at the screensaver on a laptop across the room. “I don’t understand how he knew,” he murmured to himself.

Elizabeth slid into Zelenka’s ergonomic chair and scooted closer to the bench, bringing Ford’s blueprints with her. She looked like she did at every meeting — folded hands, attentive expression — but her tone held the kind of gentleness that was usually only directed at him when he was dying. With everything going on, he didn’t think he could handle it if she told him she loved him again. “Rodney, what happened on the planet?” she asked.

He turned to his laptop, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Not unless you count Ford being much more observant than anyone gave him credit for, that is. Well, than I gave him credit for; the Colonel obviously saw something in him, since he put him on our team and all. But honestly, if he was so good at reading people, you’d think he’d have been–”

“Rodney,” Elizabeth repeated sternly, this time raising a brow.

“He said he took Sheppard as a hostage because he’s the one I care for the most,” Rodney said in a rush, “and he knew I would do anything to get him back.”

Her eyes widened. “I see. Are you and John…?” She looked simultaneously curious and uncomfortable. Mostly uncomfortable, though.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied. Personally, Rodney wouldn’t have been embarrassed if Elizabeth was convinced he and Sheppard were having some sort of secret love affair, but he sincerely doubted Sheppard felt the same way. As it was, if — when, Rodney told himself firmly, although he wasn’t sure he believed it, when — they got him back, he probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do with Rodney anymore. Three years of trying to keep Sheppard from realizing he had a thing for him, ruined.

“The idea of us in a relationship is completely absurd,” he added.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Elizabeth said, sounding way too amused for Rodney’s liking.

“Well, I would say that, and I would know, wouldn’t I,” Rodney said fervently. “We’re not together. We’ll never be together. He’s so– and I’m so– And not everyone realizes how wonderful I am.” He raised his chin.

Elizabeth’s mouth twitched upwards. “Oh, I think he knows, deep down. John’s very… I don’t want to say ‘clueless,’ but– no, actually, ‘clueless’ works.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “He never even realized everyone on the He-Man planet hated gays. I think he thought they didn’t like his hair.”

She ducked her head, chuckling. Ford’s sketches crinkled under her hands. Rodney had a flash of the last time he’d seen her like that: at breakfast on the morning of their ill-fated mission, laughing over something Sheppard had been telling her. Rodney had heard it from across the commissary — he specifically remembered complaining to Zelenka they were only exacerbating his pre-coffee headache. Rodney felt his grin fade. He was never going to be able to build this contraption, and Ford was going to turn Sheppard into one of his super space pirates, or kill him and leave his body to rot on some unknown planet, or something else too horrible for Rodney to imagine. And Rodney could imagine quite a lot.

“Kolya and Ford both used me to threaten Sheppard. This is the first time the situation’s been reversed, and I have to say, I don’t like it. It’s different from the literally hundreds of times I single-handedly saved his life on missions. I feel, um.” He waggled his fingers thoughtfully. “What’s the word?”

“Responsible, because you love him?”

“Who said anything about love?” he squeaked.

Elizabeth started droning on about the importance of overcoming denial and opening your heart, but since she was obviously talking about Sheppard, Rodney didn’t bother listening. Six exhausting hours later, he looked up and she was gone. But it didn’t matter, because he’d finished it. He’d built what he needed to save Sheppard. He’d built– he’d built–

He’d built a can opener.

“Goddammit,” he said, and flung it against the wall. The glass tubing connecting the needle to the pump fractured into two large pieces.

When they found Sheppard, Rodney hoped Teyla and Ronon broke Ford’s kneecaps.

*

Since his change, Ford didn’t really talk much. Much like last time, he spent most of John’s captivity by himself, either shifting through piles of debris or scribbling into a small, leather-bound pad he would periodically remove from his coat pocket. After a few days of this, John was so bored he almost wanted Ford to kill him and get it over with. He’d already played hours and hours of I Spy with himself, counted all the stalactites he could see, and tried to get Ford to join him in a game of Prime Not Prime (“You mean the game you and McKay used to use to make fun of me?” “Uh, nevermind, forget I asked.”); he was bored enough to start making up haiku.

“Trapped in a cave. It is one hop to freedom. But my feet are bound.”

Ford glanced over at him from behind his trash heap. “What?”

“What?” John asked.

Ford narrowed his eyes at him, but returned to his work. “What’re you writing?” John asked, stretching his neck.

“An attack plan.”

He walked over and handed the notepad to John, who tried to balance it between his cuffed palms. His hands were kind of tingly. The paper was made with an unusual texture, and it crinkled beneath his fingers; he wondered which planet Ford had picked it up on. Scrawled on the top page was:

1. Get McKay to make the Enzyme O’ Matic.

2. Form a new gang with the guys from Swamp World.
3. Get rid of the tracking device implanted in my brain.
4. Kill all the Wraith.
5. (blank)
6. Join Jesus and the Elves in the Afterlife.

“Wow, impressive,” John said carefully, with a tight smile.

This, the kidnapping, and parts of their earlier conversations over the past few days were really not making Ford look good. John didn’t know if the paranoia and delusions was from living on the run for the last few years, or if it was the side effects of long-term enzyme abuse, or what. During this ordeal he’d seen a side of Ford he’d never seen before. The Ford who had been his 2IC had been naive and silly, but also competent, and a staunch believer in hierarchy and order; after his change, “deceptive” and “single-minded” had also been added to the list. Still, John had always known his buddy Ford was somewhere deep inside the kid warped by addiction.

But if Ford was crazy, did that mean everything he said couldn’t be trusted? There was one thing on John’s mind in particular. He was torn between wanting to pretend he’d never heard about it and wanting to know more. He wished he had a coin to flip.

Curiosity won in the end. He cleared his throat; Ford looked up from his scribblings. “So McKay really…?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know that. I knew and I haven’t even been there.”

John bit his lip. “How’d you know?”

Ford shrugged, smiling a little. “You were my teammates. It wasn’t too hard to figure out.”

John really, really needed to learn how to recognize these things. If Rodney had been in love with him long enough for Ford to recognize it, then that meant it had been going on for a long time. His chest felt weird and fluttery at the thought. Maybe Ford did know what he was talking about.

“I can see why you don’t like him, though,” Ford said. “He’s a real pain in the behind.”

“Hey, he’s a lot more than a pain in the– behind,” John replied. He couldn’t believe Ford still didn’t like Rodney, after all Rodney had done for him; Rodney had worked his ass off to save Ford’s life plenty of times in the past. They had teased each other a lot, but he knew Rodney had respected Ford up until that whole hiveship fiasco. Apparently, Ford hadn’t respected Rodney at all. “Sure, he’s a jerk, and yeah, he can be annoying — really annoying — but he’s brave when it counts. He’s the smartest person in any galaxy. And just because he pretends he doesn’t care about people doesn’t mean he doesn’t. He cares about people just fine. You just have to get to know him.”

“Uh-huh,” Ford said, looking at John weirdly.

He had complete, utter faith Rodney would swoop in and save the day. Because that’s what Rodney did: he bitched and he moaned, but he always came through for John. Except for that whole Duranda thing, but that was a million years ago. And Ford didn’t know what he was talking about; John liked Rodney just fine. Rodney was his best friend. In fact, he–

And it was at that moment John realized he was in love with Rodney too.

“Aw, crap,” he said.

*

When Rodney was in elementary school, he had done a few of the other boys’ homework in exchange for not getting regularly beaten up. Building Ford’s Enzyme O’ Matic was a lot like that, except instead of doing Jimmy Holbrook’s math homework he was building Ford something to help him get high, and instead of doing it to prevent getting his nose broken he was doing it to prevent his friend from being murdered and/or traded to the enemy. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do to Ford what he had done to the obnoxious twerps in his class, which was routinely humiliate them until they learned to leave him alone. He’d humiliated Ford plenty of times when they had been teammates, and the kid had kept coming back for more.

Rodney had gotten virtually no work done on Ford’s device. After he’d built a can opener, a set of tongs, and an overly-complicated turkey baster, he’d tried crawling through Carson’s notes on Wraith physiology. That was a lot harder than he’d expected; the man had even written with an accent.

It would have been easier if Sheppard was here and someone else had been kidnapped. As much as he hated to admit it, he could really use Sheppard’s imagination right now. But no; everyone was relying on him to save Sheppard all by himself. Sheppard had probably gotten himself captured on purpose to drive Rodney insane. He loved making Rodney’s life miserable.

Rodney buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God, I’m in love with him.”

Someone cleared their throat.

He peeked between his fingers. Ronon and Major Lorne were standing at the foot of his bench. “Er,” Rodney said.

“We want to help you get the Colonel back,” Lorne replied.

Ronon nodded determinedly. “He’s our friend too.”

“What can you two possibly do to help me?” Rodney asked.

“We could help you come up with a plan,” Lorne said, reaching for a set of Ancient tools. Rodney slapped his hand away before he had a chance to break something. He really needed a sign on his door that said ‘No idiots allowed.’

Ronon picked up an Ancient remote control. “Don’t touch that,” Rodney said angrily. “I don’t need your help. And more importantly, I don’t want your help. What I want is to build Ford what he wants so he’ll let Sheppard go, except, oh wait, it’s impossible to get the enzyme out of a Wraith without killing it.”

“Why don’t you just build something that looks like what he wants?” Lorne asked.

Rodney sneered at them. “Oh,” he scoffed, “why don’t I– why don’t I?” he asked himself. He looked at the Ancient and Tau’ri equipment piled onto various lab benches; he had countless Ancient terminals and toys he’d taken apart and put back together over the course of three years. And Ford, he remembered, a plan beginning to form in the back of his mind, didn’t have the gene.

*

At the end of the week, John woke up and found a giant needle sticking out of the crook of his elbow.

“Aaahh,” he cried, jerking back. The needle remained in place. The worst part was his hands were still tied, so he couldn’t yank it out unless he planned on dislocating his shoulder. He looked around wildly, but Ford must’ve been asleep, because all the lights in the cave were out and he couldn’t see a damn thing. “There’s a fucking needle in my arm! Ford!”

“There’s no need to curse,” came Ford’s voice from somewhere above him.

John squinted into the darkness. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I tried to get the enzyme out of you.”

John was a pretty easy-going guy. In his time in the Pegasus Galaxy alone, he’d been through invasions, kidnappings, betrayals, and the Amish, but seriously, enough was enough. He knew Ford was a drug addict who’d been living on the fringe, or whatever, but there was only so much crazy John could deal with in one week. “I already told you, humans don’t have the enzyme in them,” he shouted. “It’s a Wraith enzyme, only Wraiths have it.”

One of Ford’s industrial-sized lanterns switched on; John tried to block the glare with a hand before he remembered he was tied up. “Well, I know that now,” Ford said. He reached out and pulled the syringe out of John’s arm; it didn’t hurt that much, but there was an awful lot of blood.

“You weren’t even aiming at the right spot,” John grumbled. He frowned at his bleeding arm. A familiar voice in his head — Rodney’s voice, and jeeze, that whole love thing was so obvious now that he thought about it — quipped, “You’ll need a full blood work-up after this little adventure. Not that you shouldn’t be getting one after every mission anyway.” Great, even the Rodney in his head was a hypochondriac. That probably said a lot about him.

Angrily, he asked, “What’s happened to you? I don’t remember you being this stupid.”

He knew it was a mistake the second he said it.

Ford’s expression darkened. He brandished the syringe in front of John’s face. “Stupid, huh? Would an idiot do this?”

John braced himself, waiting for whatever it was Ford was going to do. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but one thing was for sure: he wasn’t expecting Ford to roughly stab himself in the thigh with the needle.

John stared, gaping. “What does that prove?”

“That I’m not a coward,” Ford replied. He scowled at John like this was something he should’ve known.

“But I said you were being a moron, not a coward.”

Ford stared at him for a long pause, unblinking. Then he pulled the syringe from his thigh. “Did you?” he asked in a low voice.

Rodney will save me, Rodney will save me, John thought desperately. This was the most freaked out he’d been since he’d crash-landed in Afghanistan and his best friends had died in a flaming ball of fire. Sure, it had been the number one worst moment of his life, but at least he’d had a spare bottle of hair gel and pants that had made his ass look good. Now, not so much. He was tied up and alone with a crazy guy. Even the Wraith were starting to look less scary than Ford.

“Can’t we talk about this?” John asked.

“No,” Ford said ominously. “Because we have to go meet McKay so I can exchange you for my Enzyme O’ Matic.”

The tight ball of tension between John’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “We’re going through the stargate?”

“No, we’ve been on this planet the whole time. I only dragged you through the gate long enough to make sure they’d gone back to Atlantis, then I brought you right back here.”

“We’re still on Eternia?” John asked incredulously.

“See,” Ford said, tapping his temple, “not stupid.”

*

The day before Rodney was scheduled to meet Ford, Elizabeth sent Lorne’s team back to Eternia. The plan was they were supposed to watch the gate and grab Ford once he came through, but when Rodney stepped onto the planet the day of the exchange, Lorne and Ronon were waiting for him. Lorne didn’t look happy. Rodney had a feeling his unhappiness was not due to his friend and CO being missing.

“Not a single person has come through the gate,” Lorne said before Rodney could get a word out. He sounded incredibly annoyed. Also, he was wearing camouflage BDUs and facepaint, and in any other circumstance this would have been hilarious. Okay, it was still pretty funny. Especially since Lorne was all made up and Ronon was wearing his usual potato sack and leather pants.

“Are you sure he told you to meet him here?” Lorne asked.

“Of course I’m sure,” Rodney snapped. But a sense of dread was creeping over him; maybe he’d been right to think Ford’s whole plan was to get Sheppard, and he’d given Rodney this task to keep him occupied.

“Maybe I’m early,” he added apprehensively. He eyed Lorne’s helmet. “What’s with the antlers?”

“I’m supposed to be a jackalope,” Lorne said, like that made any kind of sense. “Wild jackalopes are rampant here.”

“You’re certainly the right size for one,” said Rodney.

“Ha, ha,” Lorne replied. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Fatty.”

Rodney opened his mouth to give Lorne the emotional flogging of his life, but then Teyla came hurrying out of the saloon, one of the local men trailing behind her. “Rodney,” she called breathlessly, “Elon has a message for you.”

The guy looked kind of familiar. “Yes?” Rodney questioned. He didn’t trust this “Elon” character.

“A man approached me and said to tell you to meet him at ‘the same place as before,’” said the native. “The man was very insistent that you come alone.”

Rodney exchanged a glance with Teyla. “It appears Ford arrived here before we did,” she said darkly.

“Alright.” Rodney swallowed thickly as he adjusted the backpack on his shoulders. No matter how many times he risked his own life to save Sheppard’s, it was still terrifying. “Lead the way, Elaine.”

“You’re not going alone,” said Ronon, scowling.

“I have this completely under control,” Rodney said. Ronon looked doubtful.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea either,” Lorne said.

“No, no, no, I have to go alone.” Rodney said worriedly. “The plan only works if I’m alone. If Ford sees any of you, he’ll think I’ve gone back on the bargain, and then we’ll never get Sheppard away from him. I’ll send Ellen back so you’ll know I’m okay.”

“I believe we should trust Rodney,” Teyla said.

He snapped his fingers at her. “Yes, see, listen to Teyla.”

“However,” she added in a reasonable tone, “I also feel we should prepare as many weapons as possible, in case Lieutenant Ford kills Rodney and we are forced to attack before he does the same to John.”

“That’s very encouraging of you, thanks,” Rodney said.

*

As soon as he reached the temple, Ford fell out of the tree, clutching a tied-up Sheppard.

“I was coming,” Rodney yelped, jumping back. “You couldn’t have waited for me at the entrance? Or anywhere else on the ground?”

Ford climbed to his feet, brushing dirt off his knees with one hand. His other arm was around Sheppard’s neck, bicep neatly tucked under Sheppard’s stubbled chin. All in all, this was a familiar scene. “Element of surprise,” he said boldly, picking a leaf out of his ‘fro.

Rodney glanced at Sheppard, whose eyes were looking a little crazy. Something in his chest loosened at the sight of Sheppard alive and seemingly undamaged. He felt like he could breathe for the first time in a week. “Are you okay? He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“I’m great,” Sheppard said with an insincere smile. “He only tried to stab me once. Help me.”

At that, Rodney immediately started fumbling for the Enzyme O’ Matic. Or what was supposed to be the Enzyme O’ Matic, at any rate. He’d only just stuck his hand in his backpack when, as fast as lightening, Ford pointed a gun at Sheppard’s temple. Rodney froze, his fingers wrapped around the device. He was having an incredibly strong feeling of deja-vu.

Ford nodded at the backpack. “Just checking to make sure you won’t double-cross me. Open it slowly.”

Rodney carefully pulled out the Enzyme O’ Matic and let his backpack slide to the ground. Sheppard’s expression was placid, but Rodney had seen him flinch when Ford had shoved the gun up against him. “See, I built what you wanted,” Rodney said shakily.

Ford sent him a toothy grin. “I knew you’d come through for me, McKay. You’d never let Sheppard die. Didn’t I tell you, sir?”

“You sure showed me,” Sheppard replied.

“The Colonel and I have been bonding,” Ford said. He sounded proud, as if his arm was slung across Sheppard’s shoulders instead of pressed against his trachea. “Tell him about your hot mom, sir.”

“Can we leave my hot mom out of this?” Sheppard asked.

Rodney raised his eyebrows. “You have parents? Huh. That totally changes my perspective of you.”

“Why does everyone think I was hatched from an egg?” Sheppard asked grumpily.

“Hold on, that’s my Enzyme O’ Matic?” Ford interrupted, staring at what Rodney was holding in his hand. His face was darkening with an expression Rodney couldn’t read.

“I had to make, ah, a few modifications from your original design, purely for function, you understand,” Rodney explained. He pointed out the parts he himself had invented. In his not-so-humble opinion, the device looked incredibly impressive.

Ford narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t look anything like my plans,” he said lowly. The arm clamped around Sheppard’s neck tightened visibly.

Rodney faltered, hastily saying, “The flat part fits over the Wraith’s feeding hand so you don’t have to worry about it trying to suck the life out of you while you extract the enzyme. Once you attach it to the hand, you can angle the needle so it goes right into the enzyme pouch. Then all you have to do is turn it on and watch as the vial fills with enzyme.”

Ford didn’t really react as Rodney finished stumbling through his speech. He gazed at the Enzyme O’ Matic in Rodney’s hands without saying a word, dark eyes (eye) slitted thoughtfully. Rodney hoped to God (or Allah or Buddha or Yahweh or whoever, he wasn’t picky) that Ford’s sudden expertise in body language didn’t include the ability to tell if he was lying. He had complete confidence his little device would do exactly what he wanted — he had invented it, after all — but whether or not Ford would buy it was an entirely different matter. His plan was so simple, so easy — of course it would be ruined by something as foolish as Rodney not projecting the right amount of confidence. He didn’t deserve that acting award if it meant he couldn’t even fool someone so obviously disconnected from reality.

Finally: “That’s a lot better than what I had,” Ford said, sounding awed.

Rodney couldn’t help but preen a little. “Of course it is.”

“You didn’t really build it,” Sheppard said disbelievingly, his voice rising. “Rodney! I thought you had a plan.”

“This is the plan, Princess Leia,” Rodney sneered.

He must’ve been convincing, because Sheppard’s eyes widened, and the line of his mouth flattened with disapproval. He probably thought Rodney was risking the fate of the galaxy to save his scrawny ass. That was so like him. (Not that Rodney hadn’t been fully prepared to make Ford exactly what he wanted to get Sheppard back, but he was going to chalk that up to momentary hysteria.) There was no way for Rodney to get it across to Sheppard that this wasn’t the real Enzyme O’ Matic. Sheppard was just going to have to trust him on this.

“Did you just make a Star Wars joke, McKay?” Ford asked, breaking the tension.

Rodney frowned. “You don’t get it? He’s captured, I’ve come to rescue him, we’re on an alien base…”

“Doesn’t Ford being a space pirate make me Han Solo in the carbonite?” Sheppard asked, squinting.

“I suppose so,” Rodney mused. “Except that would make me Leia, and I’m not the woman in this relationship.”

“Is this another joke about my hair?” Sheppard asked.

Ford shook his head. The look on his face was almost… fond. “Aw, you guys are nuts.”

Rodney exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Sheppard, who grimaced and stared at the grass. “We sure are, buddy,” Sheppard agreed, not making eye contact.

Ford kept smiling, up until the point where he said, “I think I oughta test my Enzyme O’ Matic first, just to be safe.”

Heart suddenly pounding in his chest, Rodney asked, “Do you really think I’d put Sheppard’s life in jeopardy like that?”

Ford studied him. Rodney clenched his shaking hands, struggling to keep his expression safe.

But then Ford grinned and said, “Yeah, what was I thinking. Thanks, McKay. Okay, toss it to me.”

“What?” Rodney blinked. “Hand over Colonel Sheppard first, and then I’ll give it to you.”

“If you don’t give it to me now, I’ll put a hole in his head.”

Sheppard started to say, “Rodney, don’t–” and Ford moved so that his hand was gripping Sheppard’s neck. Sheppard broke off, choking. Rodney went still.

Getting Sheppard hurt wasn’t part of the plan. It was the inverse of the plan, actually. Rodney needed to be brave and do this; if he let Ford use Sheppard to manipulate him even further, they would never get out of here alive. What would Ronon or Teyla do in this situation, if they didn’t have any weapons and Ronon’s IQ was about a hundred points higher and they were given muscle relaxants so they couldn’t fight? “I’m not giving you anything until you release Sheppard,” he said, drawing himself up to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest, like Ronon would have done.

Ford smirked at Rodney’s attempt at being threatening. “You know what? I think I’ll keep him. See what else I can convince you to build me. I could use some new weapons.”

“What?” Sheppard demanded, head snapping up. “Ford, he gave you what you wanted. You need to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

“You need to be quiet, sir,” Ford growled.

Rodney started to protest, “But our deal was–”

“I know what our deal was,” Ford snapped. “I’m breaking it. I’m not going to repeat myself: hand over the Enzyme O’ Matic before I kill your boyfriend.”

“‘Boyfriend’ is a little premature,” Rodney said.

“McKay, I’m not joking around!”

“Okay,” Rodney said, “I’m going to– I’m going to toss it at you, like you said. Just don’t hurt him.”

He met Sheppard’s eyes right before he threw the Enzyme O’ Matic at Ford, knowing full well that if given the choice between letting go of Sheppard and letting go of his firearm, Ford would let go of Sheppard. And because Rodney was a genius who had planned this very scenario, much in the same way he had tricked the invading Asurans into eliminating themselves, Ford did exactly what Rodney had anticipated: he released Sheppard to catch the device in one hand. Sheppard, using his brain for once, started to dart away from him.

Before Ford could lunge at Sheppard again, Rodney thought, On.

As expected, Ford collapsed, convulsing from the waves of electricity passing from the device into him. Rodney flipped the Enzyme O’ Matic off with his mind before there was any permanent damage — though he wouldn’t have lost any sleep over it if there was.

Sheppard gaped at Ford’s prone figure. “What’s going on? What’d you do?”

Rodney yanked on his arm. “Come on, Sheppard, hike up your skirt, kick off your heels, and run for it. We need to get off this planet before he wakes up.”

“How’d you know he wouldn’t live up to his end of the deal?” Sheppard asked. He sounded dazed, staring down at Ford with a flabbergasted look on his face. God, maybe Ford had been cutting off the circulation to his brain with his biceps of steel. They needed to get back to Atlantis immediately.

“Because that’s what he did last time, remember?” Rodney reminded him. “‘We’ll let you go if McKay fixes this dart for us’?”

Sheppard hesitated. Rodney could feel Sheppard’s muscles tensing under the hand he probably should have removed by now. But he didn’t want to let go yet. He hated himself for asking, “Do you want us to take him back to Atlantis with us?”

“No,” Sheppard said slowly, “he’s ireedemably nuts. I just feel–” He shrugged awkwardly; it looked like he was trying for nonchalant and failing miserably. “Kinda bad about it. If only there was a way to find out what made him go crazy.”

As soon as the words left Sheppard’s lips, a jackalope hopped past them and into the bush. It was followed by a bunch of hungry-looking lumberjacks with clubs.

“How much do you want to bet it was this planet?” Rodney asked.

*

When they got back to Atlantis, Sheppard was immediately swamped by his adoring fans: Ronon and Teyla, neither of whom had let go of Sheppard’s arms since Rodney and Sheppard had showed up at the gate on Eternia; Elizabeth, looking suspiciously misty-eyed; Lorne, still wearing his antlers; Campbell and Zelenka and a few other people Rodney didn’t recognize. Sheppard was smiling too, looking glad to be back. Rodney was so unbelievably relieved both he and Sheppard were safe until he remembered Ford had told Sheppard all about Rodney’s hard-on for him.

After that, he was too humiliated to be in the same room with Sheppard.

“McKay,” Sheppard called as Rodney headed out the nearest door, voice muffled by the crowd surrounding him, but Rodney kept walking. “Rodney!”

He went to his lab and very pointedly did not think about how uncomfortable it was going to be next time he and Sheppard were alone together. He’d felt pretty amazing when he’d walked to the stargate with Sheppard in tow, but now he felt sick to his stomach, as if he’d been the one electrocuted within an inch of his life. He was really, really not looking forward to the conversation Sheppard would inevitably want to have about how he just saw Rodney as a friend.

When Sheppard sauntered in a little over an hour later, looking clean-shaven and freshly showered, Rodney had occupied himself with organizing the Ancient tech he’d cannibalized to make the Enzyme O’ Matic. He’d separated the piles into Usable, Unusable, and Trade For Beans.

Sheppard held up a plate. “I brought you some cake.”

“There was cake?” Rodney asked.

“And a big banner that said, ‘Glad You’re Not Dead Yet.’”

“How very touchy-feely of them,” Rodney said in disgust.

“I think Ronon made it,” Sheppard replied thoughtfully.

The idea of Ronon learning to read English so he could make Sheppard a banner caused Rodney’s stomach do backflips again. He snatched the plate from Sheppard. “Thank you, you can go now,” he said shortly.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes at him. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“Absolutely not,” Rodney said, concentrating very hard on his cake.

“Ford sure told me something really interesting,” Sheppard said, deliberately baiting him.

He waved a vague hand. “I’m sure it was merely the ravings of a madman.”

“Could’ve been,” Sheppard admitted, furrowing his brow. He started to look uneasy. “He said you… you know. Like me.”

Rodney honestly hadn’t expected the rejection speech to come so soon. He thought he’d at least get a week so he could prepare a speech on why Sheppard being aware of Rodney’s feelings wouldn’t destroy the team dynamic. (Point one: Rodney’s crush had been going on for years, and they were still breathing. Two: Who was going to replace him? Zelenka?) But then he remembered Sheppard may have hated talking about his own feelings, but he was fine when it came to other people’s, as long as nobody started to cry. He should’ve seen this coming.

“‘Like’ you?” he asked, laughing like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “What are we, in elementary school?”

Sheppard gave him another narrow-eyed look. “Feels like that sometimes, yeah.”

“For your information, no, I don’t ‘like’ you,” Rodney said, drawing himself up to his full height. “Obviously, Ford misinterpreted my feelings for you as a teammate. I do care about you, in my own way, but most days I would not even consider you a friend, much less a– a potential love interest.”

Sheppard’s face screwed up. “Alright,” he said. There was a weird wobbly tone to his voice Rodney had never heard before. “Well, thanks for saving me. I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doing.”

He clapped Rodney on the shoulder as he left. Rodney had definitely dodged a bullet with that one.

Except a second later, Sheppard came hurrying back into the lab, looking furious.

“You do too like me!” he accused, putting his hands on his hips.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Rodney demanded. “Are you saying I lie like one of your women?” A sudden wave of anger overtook him; anger at Ford, for putting him in this situation, and anger at Sheppard, for demanding Rodney explain himself. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. “Fine, you know what, Ford was right: I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I haven’t done anything wrong, have I? I haven’t come onto you, or touched you inappropriately, or sexually harassed you, even though you’re asking for it — which, by the way, you should be grateful for, because many, many men and women have succumed to the McKay charm after some gentle prodding–”

“Prodding?” Sheppard interrupted.

“Do you mind? I’m talking here. As I was saying, I cannot adequately express how upset I am that Ford not only told you (and Ronon and Teyla) about my feelings, but also used them to blackmail me. I’m sorry you were hurt, and I’ll understand if you want me to–” It pained him to even say it. “If you want me to leave–”

“The whole time I was with Ford I knew you were going to come for me,” Sheppard blurted. Then he looked horrified at himself.

Rodney went still. “What does that mean?”

Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His gaze drifted to the general vicinity behind Rodney’s left shoulder. “Let’s just say I wasn’t upset when Ford told me about your… feelings,” he mumbled.

“You weren’t upset,” Rodney repeated. That couldn’t possibly mean what he hoped it meant. “Then what were you? Happy? Sad? Disgusted? Hungry?”

Rodney watched as Sheppard hesitated — much in the same way he’d hesitated over leaving Ford on Eternia. There was probably something significant in that, but Rodney had no idea what it was. “For God’s sake, Sheppard, what are you trying to tell me?” he asked.

“That I feel the same way about you as you do about me,” Sheppard said, finally meeting his eyes. He sounded almost angry. “It just took a cracked-out, runaway Marine to show me.”

“I’m both touched and alarmed by that statement,” said Rodney.

“Touched, huh?” Sheppard asked, smiling crookedly.

Faint hope sparked in Rodney’s chest. It wasn’t so much the words that moved him as it was that smile; Sheppard had smiles for alien delegates, smiles for SGC personnel, and smiles for bad guys with guns pointed at his chest, but this lopsided grin almost exclusively came out when he thought they were doing something really cool. Rodney had done a lot of stupid shit for that smile.

So it wasn’t any surprise when he found himself saying, “This better not be a trick to get me into bed. I know everyone thinks I’m some kind of playboy–”

“That’s not really the first word I’d use to describe you,” Sheppard said, raising a brow.

“So when Ford told you about my, um, feelings, you were happy?” Rodney asked, just for clarification. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Sheppard was pulling his leg.

Sheppard took a step towards him. “Well, I wasn’t unhappy.”

“Very funny,” Rodney said, scowling.

“You know, there’s one thing that’s really bothering me,” Sheppard said.

The tips of Sheppard’s boots touched Rodney’s runners. They were close enough for Rodney to see each individual colour flecked in Sheppard’s eyes, and to catch a nice whiff of the aftershave Sheppard swore he didn’t wear. When Sheppard’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, Rodney’s gaze followed.

“W-what’s that?” Rodney asked.

“How did everyone know I was gay?” Sheppard said sullenly, reaching for Rodney’s forearms.

“It’s a real mystery,” Rodney said sarcastically, then kissed him.

*

The next day, John whistled ‘In Your Eyes’ on his way to the daily morning briefing. He’d given his unofficial report to Elizabeth (and by proxy, Zelenka) last night over cake, before he’d left the mixer to find Rodney; her response had been, “I never quite know what to say when Rodney plays hero,” and, “That must’ve been an awful experience for you.” “You said he tried to take your enzyme?” Zelenka had asked, puzzled. Lorne’s team had returned to Eternia after dropping John and Rodney off in Atlantis, but Ford had been long gone by then. John hoped his adventures would lead him to the planet of the rehab centre.

Rodney was already there when John entered the briefing room — they’d agreed the best course of action was to leave his room separately — and he flushed when John caught his eye. John took the seat beside him and pressed their calves together, feeling a little overheated himself. He looked across the table to see Ronon rolling his eyes.

“Isn’t this nice,” Elizabeth said affectionately. She beamed at them; this was one of those moments when John felt she wanted to give them all gold stars and cookies. “The whole team back together again.”

“I still don’t get what happened,” Ronon said, rolling his chair from side to side.

“How can you not get what happened?” Rodney asked, voice raising in pitch. “I used Ancient gene-activation technology to create a tool that rendered Ford unconscious, thereby allowing myself to rescue Sheppard and bring him back to safety.”

“My hero,” said John.

“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” Rodney said.

“We are all very glad to have John back,” Teyla cut in. She threw Ronon and Rodney a dark look, and then reached over to pat John on the shoulder. He was instantly uncomfortable.

“So what’s on the agenda this morning?” he asked casually.

Elizabeth nodded at Teyla. “Teyla has found something that may be important.”

“I was hoping a week of being tortured would get me some time off,” John said, disappointed. He was already having visions of secluded, sandy beaches and chances to finally use that surfboard.

Rodney looked at him in alarm. “You were tortured?”

“Well, emotionally,” said John.

“You may be interested to hear this, John,” Teyla said. “I was given an interesting piece of information from an old friend. He claims to have personally seen it himself — a ‘magical’ orb that gives those who touch it the strength of ten warriors. It is the relic of a civilization that was once prosperous but has been torn apart by war.”

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” John asked as he leaned forward on his elbows. He wouldn’t mind checking out something like that. Rodney had gotten superpowers; it was totally his turn to get some awesome ability from some Ancient thingamabob.

“You think this will help us fight the Wraith?” Elizabeth asked him.

“Right, the Wraith,” John said. She gave him a look. “Where can we find it, Teyla?”

Teyla smiled broadly at him. “I am glad you asked, John,” she said. He heard the real meaning behind her statement: “I am glad you asked during the meeting and not as we were about to step through the stargate.” “I have never been there, but I have been told it is a fertile world with honourable people. I believe they call it Cardassia Prime.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Rodney said. John caught his eye; Rodney looked as astonished as he felt. Was there something going on in this galaxy that he didn’t know about?

“Is this something you would like to investigate personally, John?” asked Elizabeth. Obviously, she wasn’t a sci-fi fan.

Maybe it was the being held hostage, or maybe it was the nasty looks he’d received from the Eternians, or maybe it was even the ache in his thighs from him and Rodney getting to know each other better, but there was no way in hell John was stepping onto a world named Cardassia Prime without a full regiment of Marines, a fully-loaded puddlejumper, and as much artillery as he could pack into Ronon.

“You know, I think Major Lorne could use a little excitement in his life,” said John.

*

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis, He-Man, and Star Trek do not belong to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The title comes from a line in Mos Def’s “Fear Not of Man.”

Thanks to Jenn, for beta reading, and Keri, for helping me get over a few roadblocks.

Summary: Teyla has an accident with an alien device that leads to revelations about the team. Rodney’s not too happy about his. McKay/Sheppard, Teyla/?.

Spoilers: Up through and including 3×08 McKay and Mrs Miller.

*

The first civilization they came across that was advanced enough for Rodney to be genuinely impressed — without them being Replicators, of course, which were also very impressive once you got past the part where they wanted to kill everyone in Atlantis and got their kicks out of sticking their hands in people’s heads — was P1X-887, a world of happy, smiling, lab coat-clad scientists. Their team had been greeted by the Supreme High Chancellor as soon as they’d set foot on the planet, and the people of Midea, as the world was called, seemed very eager to share their technology. It was wonderful. Rodney was instantly suspicious.

“You want to give it away, just like that?” he asked. “You don’t even know us. We could be planning to take over your planet.”

Sheppard elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. “That’s just Rodney’s way of saying, yes, we’d love to see your technology.”

The Chancellor was obviously a very wise man, as he had recognized Rodney’s significance almost immediately. He seemed to be under the impression Rodney was the team leader; Rodney felt it was in everyone’s best interests not to correct him. “It is rare we meet travelers who have knowledge such as yours,” he said, leading Rodney and the rest of the team towards what he’d said was their main research facility. He was an old geezer with a trimmed white beard, dressed in a long, grey robe with bell sleeves. He also had a tall, pointy grey hat that was a little more Harry Potter than alien. Sheppard had already slipped and called him “Dumbledore” twice.

“Well, very few people have quite the amount of knowledge I do, Your Honour,” Rodney replied smugly. He threw Sheppard a smirk; Sheppard rolled his eyes.

The Chancellor smiled. “The people of Midea hope we can trade with the people from the city of the Ancestors.”

“Yeah, the Ancestors,” Sheppard said, sounding uncomfortable.

The Chancellor frowned at him. “And we hope to trade with you as well,” Teyla added hastily.

“If I could just see some of what your people are working on, that would be great,” Rodney said, directing them back to the more important issue: his getting to see the technology.

The Midean capital was a sea of large, dome-shaped glass buildings that reminded Rodney of bee hives. The paved streets were relatively empty, but a quick glance around showed the buildings full of workers. The life signs detector confirmed this as well; like Rodney was going to walk around an advanced alien planet without checking a few things out first. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again. Luckily, the stargate was situated right outside what appeared to be the city hall, so their journey was brief. Rodney liked this planet. Maybe this would finally be the planet that would provide them with something useful for fighting the Wraith. Or at least something to make their daily lives easier.

Half an hour and a tour of the primary laboratory facility later, he realized he was terribly, horribly wrong. This wasn’t the planet of helpful Wraith haters. This was the Blind Date planet.

“So you’re telling me,” he said, standing in the middle of one of the largest and most well-equipped research labs he’d been inside of in two galaxies, “everything in your culture is centred around finding a spouse?”

“Not just a spouse, true love,” said the Chancellor.

“Twu wuv,” Sheppard murmured under his breath. Rodney tried to catch his eye for a shared look of disgust, but Sheppard was gazing straight at Chancellor Cupid. “You’ll forgive us if we find that a little weird.”

“There is nothing more important than finding your true love,” the Chancellor continued airily. “Without love, there is no reason to continue. It’s the goal of everyone on Midea to help their fellow citizens find his or her love match.”

“So the giant super computer…?” Rodney asked, gesturing to the lab across the hall.

“Is for predicting love matches,” the Chancellor supplied.

“Fantastic,” he muttered. Another planet of crazy people. Just what he needed.

“What if someone doesn’t want to find true love?” Ronon asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Chancellor looked horrified. “I think what he means is, what about the people who want to wait?” Sheppard asked.

“Why would you deny yourself love?” the old man asked.

He looked about ready to start lecturing, which was just one more experience Rodney really hadn’t hoped to go through on this mission, when there came a crash from behind them. Rodney turned to see Teyla and a young man picking things up several metallic objects that had fallen to the floor, and placing them back onto a tray. “I am very sorry,” Teyla was saying, “I did not realize you were there.”

She reached for one of the objects.

“No!” the Chancellor cried.

Before Rodney’s very eyes, Teyla flickered out, like someone had hit a switch. In her place was Sheppard. Another Sheppard, because the real one was standing next to Rodney, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Oh, this is going to suck,” Rodney said.

“Yeah,” agreed Ronon.

“What is going on?” the Sheppard holding the object asked. Only it was Teyla’s voice, which was creepy and wrong, coming out of Sheppard’s body like that. Sheppard — Teyla — climbed to his — her — feet. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

The real Sheppard said, “This is weird.”

“Yeah,” said Ronon, “I didn’t know giant boxes of pancake mix could talk.” The fact Ronon looked genuinely disturbed did not make his statement any less bizarre.

“Right,” Sheppard said slowly, squinting at Ronon. He turned back to Teyla. “Teyla, it doesn’t look like any of us are seeing you as… well, you.”

Rodney eyed the old man, who seemed flustered. “It happened when she touched that device. What is it? It can’t be Ancient, she doesn’t have the gene.” He snapped his fingers. “Teyla, give it to me, maybe there’s a way to shut it off.”

“No, you must’n't!” the Chancellor said. “The device makes other people see the wearer as whomever they desire the most. This is an indication, my dear,” he said to Teyla, “you are in need of love.”

“Huh,” Sheppard said thoughtfully, while Teyla inspected the small, round device in her hand. Sheppard’s hand.

Sheppard’s hand. Rodney froze. “Did you say ‘the thing you desire the most’? Ah, what do you mean by ‘desire,’ actually?”

“Like in a man loves a woman kind of way, Rodney,” Sheppard said, sounding irritated. “It’s for finding love, not for finding friends.”

This was unbelievable. It was more than unbelievable, actually; it was impossible. For one thing, was the device telepathic? He hadn’t seen any technology like that in the Pegasus Galaxy thus far — just that Tok’ra memory tool he’d had a chance to look at when he’d been at Area 51. Was this an Ancient device that had somehow been lost on Midea?

But the more pressing question was why the hell was he seeing Sheppard? If anyone was the love of his life, it was Sam Carter. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

Ronon crossed his arms over his chest. “Your thing is broken. I don’t see a person.”

Relieved, Rodney asked, “What do you see?” Clearly the device wasn’t working properly.

“A giant box of pancake mix.” Rodney’s hope fizzled and died. All four of them stared at Ronon, who raised his eyebrows in response. “I really like pancakes.”

“Well, there goes another food the Pegasus Galaxy has ruined for me,” Rodney grumbled.

“Does this mean you’re pansexual?” Sheppard asked Ronon.

“I don’t know what that means,” Ronon said.

“Yes, let’s just stand around here all day making jokes about Ronon having sex with pancakes,” Rodney scoffed. “That’ll be really productive. Chancellor, how do we turn the device off?”

“You can’t,” the Chancellor responded. “It is programmed to remain on until the wearer finds his or her true love.”

“How does this help her find true love?”

“Ah,” said the Chancellor. He raised a finger in the air. “That is for the wearer to discover.”

“You’re kidding,” Rodney said incredulously. “Is this your way of saying you don’t know what it does?”

The Chancellor’s eyes narrowed. He looked ready to start on something when Teyla jumped in. “Perhaps it is best if we leave it on for now,” she said. “It is not doing any harm, and this way we can take it back to Atlantis to study. If that is alright with you, Chancellor.”

“As long as there are plenty of single men in the city of the Ancestors!” the Chancellor said jovially.

“Please stop talking,” Rodney said.

*

On the way back to the stargate, Rodney asked Ronon, “You seriously see her as pancake mix?” Ronon grunted an affirmative.

“I guess there are worse things to see,” Sheppard said slowly. “You know, like, kids or animals. Or General Landry.”

Rodney frowned. “Now I’m not sure I want to know what you’re seeing.”

But Sheppard kept looking at Teyla oddly. Rodney would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit curious. “Hey, here’s a question,” Sheppard said. “Do I seem kind of… repressed to any of you?”

“Believe me, Colonel, if anyone’s repressed here, it’s me,” Rodney said. He was starting to get a headache from having one Sheppard on either side of him. He had a feeling his next session with Dr Heightmeyer was going to be an important one.

Sheppard looked at him in surprise. “What do you see, McKay?”

“Nothing. Nothing important. You don’t want to know, trust me. What do you see?”

“A hot babe,” Sheppard said, tone implying this should be obvious. All he was missing was the “duh” at the end.

Rodney glanced over his shoulder at Teyla. She smiled back thinly. It was unusual, seeing such a Teyla expression on Sheppard’s face. The real Sheppard, meanwhile, was biting his lip, and Rodney was definitely not going to think about what two John Sheppards would look like together, with their identical pouts and crooked noses and hedgehog hair. No, it was crazy to think that, because either Rodney was seeing Teyla as Sheppard due to a malfunction, or he was sick in the head.

He sighed. “We’re pretty screwed up, aren’t we.”

“I’m good,” said Ronon.

*

Walking back home through the gate created a flurry of excitement. The normal low-level buzz around the command room grew louder when Teyla stepped out from behind Ronon, and someone in the back exclaimed, “Holy mother of God!” A bunch of people scurried over to the balcony to peer down at her.

Elizabeth jogged down the stairs. “John, what’s going on?” she asked.

“Teyla touched something she shouldn’t have,” Sheppard explained.

“Teyla did?” Elizabeth repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Teyla gazed back innocently. It was such a Sheppard expression — one that always should have annoyed Rodney, but never did — that Rodney was taken aback. He had to get out of there. “I’m going ahead to the infirmary for my check-up. There’s really nothing for me to report, and I have a lot of work to catch up on,” he said, walking backwards towards the exit. Two Sheppards blinked at him, and Elizabeth frowned. The only one who wasn’t paying attention to him was Ronon, who was busy staring at Teyla like she was a cheeseburger and he hadn’t eaten in a week. Which was a horrible, horrible analogy, considering he saw her as pancakes.

“Rodney,” Elizabeth called.

“Busy!” he shouted back.

“Wonder who he sees,” he heard Sheppard say as the doors whispered shut behind him.

*

There wasn’t anything in the Ancient database on the device from Midea. Granted, he hadn’t expected a search for “hologram love machine” to come up with much, but there wasn’t a single file anything that remotely resembled what he was looking for. He’d have to get Elizabeth on it later; his Ancient was a tad more rusty than hers.

After a few hours of searching, he did find a file with a few notes on the planet. His Ancient wasn’t great, but he definitely made out the words “crazy” and “marriage” and “cult.” Three words he never wanted to see put together.

Rodney tensed when the doors opened, but it was just Zelenka, carrying a tablet under one arm and pushing up his glasses with his free hand.

“John is looking for you,” Zelenka said, instead of, “Hello.”

Rodney barely managed not to roll his eyes at Zelenka’s use of Sheppard’s first name. If anyone should be seeing Sheppard as their love match, it was him. “He’ll just have to wait,” Rodney said tersely. “I’m not at his beck and call.”

Zelenka looked up from his tablet, pulling a stool to the lab bench closest to Rodney’s console. “Are you hiding?”

“No,” Rodney said.

“But you never come into my laboratory unless you do not want anyone to find you,” he said.

“What are you talking about, I’m in here all the time,” Rodney protested.

“You said it smelled like a cabbages, and that being in here for too long made you long for death.”

“No, I said your constant ramblings in Czech made me feel like I was trapped in a room with the kid from the Exorcist,” Rodney said. He paused the scrolling words on the screen and took a seat opposite from Zelenka. He wasn’t getting anywhere with the database. “Although I’ve noticed the smell of cabbages has mostly dissipated. Well done.”

Zelenka snorted. “While you are not hiding from John, I have something you can look at.”

From the front pocket of his jacket, he retrieved a small, circular object. The glass was a quarter inch thick, and it was framed by a thick piece of black plastic. “Dr Coleman found it in one of the abandoned rooms. It was covered in cobwebs,” Zelenka said, while Rodney weighed it with his palm.

While Zelenka went back to his tablet, Rodney continued to study the thing. He held it up to the light; there was a faint reddish sheen on the glass, but that was the only distinguishing feature he could pick out. Sheppard probably would’ve been able to figure out what it was. Sheppard had always had the uncanny ability to think outside the box, no matter what the situation.

But then, in a flash of amazing insight, it came to him. “I’ve got it!” Rodney exclaimed.

Zelenka jumped, knocking his tablet to the floor with a loud clatter. “Kurva drát,” he swore. “What is it?”

“I know what this is.” Rodney held up the artifact proudly. It was so obvious; he didn’t know why it had taken him so long to figure out. This was exactly why being preoccupied with his and Sheppard’s non-existent sexual relationship was a bad idea.

Zelenka leaned forward. “Yes?”

“It is a monocle, like you see in movies,” Rodney announced.

Zelenka visibly deflated. Rodney put the monocle over one eye and squeezed the other shut, raising his chin. “What do you think, do I look dignified?”

“Dignity is impossible for you,” Zelenka said.

“Huh, I wonder what the Ancients needed monocles for,” Rodney mused. He didn’t see any differently with it on; it like wearing a pair of fake glasses. Even the reddish tint on the outside of the glass didn’t do anything. “It doesn’t seem to have an actual purpose.”

“Perhaps it is for a costume,” Zelenka said dryly.

“What, for Ancient Halloween?”

On a bench against the wall sat a crate Zelenka and some of the other scientists had been using to keep Ancient objects they’d thought were useless. Rodney began shifting through it. Maybe he could find something that went along with the monocle. “You didn’t see a pipe in here, did you?”

He stuck his head in the crate, pulling out all sorts of interesting yet probably useless artifacts. In the glee of discovery, he’d almost forgotten Zelenka was there, until Zelenka casually asked, “So who do you see instead of Teyla?”

Rodney’s head shot up. He glared. “You’ve been waiting all day to ask me that, haven’t you.”

“I have,” Zelenka admitted. He didn’t sound ashamed.

“Who I see is none of your business,” Rodney said stiffly. Like he’d let anyone know some malfunctioning alien doo-dad was telling him Sheppard was his one true love. “Fine, if you must know, I see Colonel Carter. Of course. Who else would I see?”

“Oh, I thought you would have seen John. My mistake.”

“Why would you think that?” Rodney asked, shocked.

Zelenka’s gaze shifted to something in the distance. “No reason,” he replied slowly.

“Zelenka, you disgusting little monkey, if you’re not straight with me–”

“Ho, straight!” Zelenka said. He wagged a finger at Rodney. “That is a good one. Is it really so strange to think someone else has noticed your, how shall I put this, infatuation?”

Rodney felt his heartbeat quicken. Oh no, he was not panicking just because Zelenka thought he had feelings for the most frustrating person in the Pegasus Galaxy. “Infatuation?” he echoed loudly. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me, and, yes, I’m including your theories on special relativity. Colonel Sheppard and I are friends. We’re– very good friends, who happen to save each other’s lives on a near-daily basis. There’s nothing romantic about it.”

“Okay,” Zelenka said, but when he turned away, Rodney saw him rolling his eyes.

That pissed him off. What made Zelenka think he knew Rodney better than Rodney knew himself? That was why he was a second-tier scientist while Rodney was in charge, because he jumped to conclusions without knowing the facts. He didn’t know a single thing about Rodney if he thought that, and he certainly didn’t know anything about friendship. And just because Rodney hadn’t had many close friends during his lifetime didn’t mean Rodney didn’t understand his relationship with Sheppard for what it was.

“What kind of person do you think I am?” he demanded. “Do you really think I’ve been carrying a torch for Sheppard this entire time? The entire three years we’ve known each other? All the times we’ve saved each other’s asses and worked in close combat situations, relying only on each other for our very survival? All the time without either of us seriously dating anyone, because no one outside our team could possibly understand what we’ve been through? What, I ask you, what kind of person would that make me?”

Zelenka’s eyes narrowed. “You know, Rodney, perhaps I would take you more seriously if you were not wearing the monocle.”

*

The next morning, when Rodney carried his tray over to their usual table, Ronon and Elizabeth were already there. Ronon was chowing down a stack of pancakes like he wouldn’t get a chance to eat for another seven years. Elizabeth’s back was to Rodney, but he could see she wasn’t eating. She was probably as grossed out by Ronon’s eating habits as the rest of, oh, civilized life.

“You know, considering a box of pancake mix is your one true love, this is really quite disturbing,” Rodney said, taking the seat next to Elizabeth.

Ronon paused. “How come?” he asked, mouth full.

Rodney rolled his eyes and dug into his eggs. Elizabeth was staring at something in the distance, plate still untouched, and his curiosity was piqued. He asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she answered with a shake of her head. But then she nodded in the direction she’d been staring at, and Rodney glanced over.

Rodney’s chest tightened at the sight of two Sheppards sitting together at a corner table. It wasn’t them sitting with each other that was the problem, because Sheppard and Teyla ate together all the time. They were friends, after all; she’d been Sheppard’s friend long before Rodney had magnanimously decided Sheppard was less of a clown than he’d previously thought. But the way the Sheppard on the left side was leaning back, head tilted, lips curled, that was horrifying familiar. He wondered what Sheppard saw when he looked at Teyla. He really couldn’t imagine Sheppard would see anyone in Atlantis. An old girlfriend, perhaps? One of the many men and women who had thrown themselves at him offworld? That slut from the cloister? Chaya?

“What do you suppose John and Teyla are talking about?” Elizabeth asked.

“That bimbo,” Rodney muttered.

“Watch what you say about my pa– about Teyla,” Ronon warned.

Elizabeth was also peering at Rodney disapprovingly. He waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, not Teyla. Whichever space babe of the week Sheppard’s seeing in her place.”

“Is that what you think he sees?” Elizabeth wondered. She sounded amused. When he looked at her in surprise, she quickly started eating her breakfast. He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Ronon said. “Sheppard flirts a lot, but I don’t think he loves any of those women. That’s what the device is for, to show you who you love.”

“You see pancake mix,” said Rodney irritably. “You can’t marry pancake mix, now can you?”

Ronon leaned forward with a knowing smirk. “What do you see, McKay?”

“I have to go back to the lab,” Rodney said hurriedly.

*

There were many things Rodney could be working on, including taking apart Teyla’s hologram device, but he found the thing he wanted to sort out the most was the monocle. But there wasn’t anything to really do to it. The plastic casing on the outer edge was seamless, and the glass appeared to be just that: glass.

He was considering taking it over to the main labs to test different kinds of chemicals on it when the door opened, and in walked someone he’d really been hoping to avoid.

“Hello, Colonel,” he said flatly. Sheppard’s eyebrows shot up, and Rodney added, “Well, I suppose since you’re here, you might as well help me out on something.”

“You see me as John?”

That wasn’t Sheppard’s voice. Rodney’s stomached bottomed out as he had the horrible realization it was Teyla standing in the doorway, and he said hastily, “Of course not, that was a joke, why on Earth would I ever see Colonel Sheppard as the love of my life? The very idea is laughable. See, this is me laughing. Ha ha ha!”

“Rodney,” Teyla said.

“There’s something wrong with your match-making device,” Rodney insisted.

Teyla carefully sat on the stool nearest to the lab bench. That was unlike Sheppard; he preferred to peer over Rodney’s shoulder or lean all over everything, like a big, slutty leaning thing. “You do not need to worry about me telling John,” she said. “I believe he is avoiding me.”

“Why is that?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

While her movements were all her own, it was amazing how the device managed to make Teyla’s distasteful expression look identical to Sheppard’s. Rodney would really have to get his hands onto some of that technology. But his focus on the device faded when Teyla said, “He became quite nervous when I realized he saw me as a man.”

“What?” Rodney demanded. “Sheppard’s into men? That can’t be! I’m shocked! Shocked! That’s– actually, that does make sense. So who does he see? Is it Keras from the kid planet? I knew that piece of jailbait ass had a thing for him. My God, Sheppard’s practically robbing the cradle.”

“I am sure John did not sleep with Keras, Rodney,” Teyla responded. “And even if he did, that was years ago. They have not seen each other since.”

“How do you know he hasn’t? What with this whole homosexual double life he’s been leading.”

Teyla looked annoyed. Or at least, she was making the same face Sheppard did when he was annoyed. “Because we would know if he was taking trips through the stargate often enough to have a relationship with someone on another planet.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Rodney admitted grudgingly. He narrowed his eyes at her. “So if Sheppard’s hiding from you, why are you here?”

Teyla squared her shoulders. “It is very uncomfortable when everyone sees you as the one they desire. Everyone is acting very strange around me. Ronon keeps calling me ‘Pancakes,’ and even Elizabeth is not herself. I was hoping you, at least, would behave normally. Since you have a difficult time telling someone you like them even as a friend.”

“Thank you,” Rodney said, touched.

“What are you studying?” Teyla asked, nodding to the monocle.

“I’m trying to figure out what the function is of this,” he said. He held it between his thumb and forefinger.

“It looks like half of a pair of glasses.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” he snapped.

Teyla gingerly took it from him and lifted it towards the light. This gave Rodney the perfect opportunity to study the slope of Sheppard’s narrow jaw, the slight upturn of his nose. From this angle, his eyes were a soft green. Okay, so Sheppard was hot; this wasn’t news. It didn’t mean Rodney was in love with him or anything.

She handed the monocle back to Rodney. He was finishing putting it on just as Zelenka walked through the door, and immediately, Teyla shifted from Sheppard to Ronon.

“Oh my God,” Rodney said. He gestured for Zelenka to stop moving.

When he pulled the monocle off, Teyla was Sheppard again.

Rodney stared at the monocle in his hand, and then back at Zelenka and Teyla. “Zelenka,” he asked slowly, “you wouldn’t by chance see Ronon when you look at Teyla, would you?”

“How did you know?” Zelenka gasped.

“Ronon?” Teyla asked. “That is even stranger than you seeing John, Rodney.”

“You do see John?” Zelenka smirked. “I knew it. Did I not say I knew?”

“You see Ronon,” Rodney pointed out.

“He is very tall and muscular,” Zelenka said defensively. “He is, how would you say, man candy.”

“I would never say that,” Rodney said.

“Neither would I,” said Teyla.

*

“You have to do this,” Rodney insisted.

“No,” Teyla said stubbornly, “I will not.”

“It’s an important scientific breakthrough–”

“You want me to do this so you will know who everyone is in love with, and you can blackmail them,” Teyla interrupted, glaring. “I will not subject the others to your pettiness.”

Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ll have to go in the control room eventually. I can wait.”

It turned out Teyla was far less frightening when she looked like Sheppard, whose faces tended to be more ridiculous than menacing. She gave Rodney one last, long scowl and stormed down the corridor.

“I’ll be waiting,” he called her to back.

She returned ten minutes later.

“Well, well, well,” he said smugly, “look who’s come crawling back.”

“I had forgotten I have a meeting with Elizabeth,” Teyla said coldly. “You may follow me in, but I will have nothing to do with your scheme.”

“That’s fine,” Rodney said, moving aside so she could step through the doors.

When he left by himself a few minutes later, it was in outrage. He’d been hoping for something funny, or at least something he could use against them, but everyone — literally everyone — in the control room was in love with the same person: Elizabeth. That was so predictable. Zelenka loved Ronon, Ronon loved pancakes, he loved (supposedly loved) Sheppard, but everyone else had a thing for the boss.

*

He was headed to Zelenka’s lab when a supply closet door opened, and out shot a hand. It latched onto the front of Rodney’s jacket and pulled him in.

“What the hell?” he started to shout, when he realized he was looking at Sheppard. A Sheppard. He didn’t know which one. “Hello?”

“Hey, Rodney.” Definitely the real Sheppard then.

“Why are you hiding in supply closets?” Rodney asked suspiciously.

Sheppard smiled brightly. Rodney recoiled. “You haven’t happened to see Teyla recently, have you?” Sheppard asked, unusually chipper.

“Uh, recently?” Rodney responded. He tried to think fast. “How recent are we talking about?”

Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck. His smile faded a little. “Did she say anything to you about me? Maybe about what I see?”

“No, she hasn’t,” Rodney lied. “And if she has, why would you think I’d care? Do you think I don’t have anything to do but sit around and gossip over what kind of guys John Sheppard finds attractive?”

Sheppard’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“I mean, women,” Rodney said.

“So she did talk to you,” Sheppard said accusingly.

Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, that’s all she said. I have no idea who you see when you look at her. Although you could’ve told me you were bisexual. I thought we were–” He waved a hand. “Close. In only the way two semi-heterosexual guys can be.”

“We are,” Sheppard said. He looked uncomfortable now, instead of defensive. “I never said anything ’cause I don’t really date all that much, and dating women was just always one of those things I was expected to do, you know?”

“No, not really,” Rodney said honestly.

“I was on the football team,” Sheppard explained, like it should have been obvious.

“I have no idea how that relates to what we’re talking about. So while you’re not dating men, would you tell me if you slept with Keras?”

Sheppard looked taken aback. “Who’s Keras? Wait, the guy from the kid planet? That was three years ago.”

“Well,” Rodney said sheepishly, “I just thought– since he was so interested in you, and you’re– nevermind. It’s not important.”

“He wasn’t interested in me,” Sheppard insisted, frowning, “he just wanted me to be the person he spent the last moments of his life with. It’s not his fault the ritual called for naked touching. It was a ritual.”

“What?” Rodney asked shrilly.

“Hey, you’re seeing Teyla as Carter, right?”

“Yes, Colonel Carter,” Rodney said carefully. “You know me and my masturbatory fantasies about Carter. I do love those perky blondes.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Sheppard said.

*

The next time he lured Teyla into the labs for some assistance on something he could have easily had anyone else in Atlantis do, he worked fast.

“Major Lorne, could you come to the main laboratory right away?” he asked over the radio, turning away so Teyla couldn’t hear.

“Sure thing, Dr McKay,” Lorne’s voice said in his ear.

When he walked through the door a few minutes later, Teyla’s device shifted her over to Elizabeth’s form.

Rodney rolled his eyes in disgust. God forbid Lorne be original and fall for someone else.

“What can I do you for?” Lorne asked cheerfully. He beamed at Teyla.

“That’ll be all, Major,” Rodney said.

*

Rodney had only briefly considered spying on Sheppard and Teyla so he could see who it was Sheppard loved. He’d almost called both of them into his lab at least four times, but each time he’d stopped himself at the last minute. Rodney was hardly the type of guy who preferred to live in blissful ignorance, but there was this little voice in the back of his mind — the kind of voice he usually ignored — that said, “You want to maintain the delusion you have Sheppard all to yourself.”

Knowing Sheppard’s love of all things bad ass, his mysterious love interest was probably Ronon. Or Lorne. Or, God help him, Caldwell. Maybe it was someone from Earth, and Sheppard had been pining away this whole time. Maybe it was some dead guy Rodney could never compete with in a million years. If his seeing Sheppard wasn’t all a vicious lie meant to ruin his life, of course.

If he was being really honest, Rodney would admit the thought of Sheppard being in love made him a little queasy.

So it was really unintentional when he stumbled across Sheppard and Teyla alone in the commissary, and it was merely a coincidence he was wearing the Ancient monocle. (He’d been hoping to catch Elizabeth and Teyla walking through the corridors together, so he could figure out just why Elizabeth got that strange look on her face whenever the two women had been in the same room at the same time, in his pre-monocle period.)

When he saw a very handsome, and very familiar, person sitting at the table with Sheppard — himself, Dr Meredith Rodney McKay — he did the only thing any reasonable person would do:

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, disturbing their little tete-a-tete.

Sheppard squinted at him. “Are you wearing a monocle?”

“What I’m wearing is not as important as what you’re doing.”

“Getting something to drink with Teyla?” Sheppard said.

Teyla was looking at Rodney like he was something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. Except it was with Rodney’s own handsome, handsome face. “Rodney, you should not be here,” she all but growled. Oh, that was bizarre, Teyla’s voice coming out of his mouth.

Sheppard seemed curious at her words, but Rodney would rather throw himself off the nearest balcony than let Sheppard know he’d been spying on everyone. He had his dignity, after all. “You know, Rodney, She’s not really Colonel Carter,” he said.

Rodney looked at the image of himself and Sheppard at the table, at Sheppard all relaxed and smiling in a way he’d seen a thousand times over. It was at that point he realized the Midean chancellor had been right, and he really had been looking at the person he loved the most.

*

The problem with Rodney knowing Sheppard was in love with him was, well, knowing Sheppard was in love with him. And he loved Sheppard back. Probably. He hadn’t been in many situations like this in his lifetime; mostly, he spent his time trying to convince the other person he was worthy of dating. It was rare for him to fall for someone who loved him back without him having to work at it. Katie Brown had gone out with him because she’d liked him, and look how that had turned out.

What Rodney needed to do was be upfront with Sheppard about it. Sheppard loved him. There was little chance this could all go horribly wrong.

The next day at lunch, he sat down at Sheppard’s table.

“John,” he began immediately.

Sheppard’s eyebrows arched. “Meredith?”

Rodney was bursting to tell him everything, that he saw Sheppard just like Sheppard saw him, and they could run off (okay, fly away) into the sunset together, or maybe just that they should go talk privately before one of the Marines gay-bashed them, but what came out was, “You know, I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’re bi.”

“I can’t believe you won’t shut the hell up,” Sheppard hissed, pointedly glancing around the commissary, which was mostly empty.

“What was that?” Ronon asked around his mashed potatoes.

“Could we not talk about this in public?” Sheppard asked lowly.

“Please, it’s hardly like Ronon is public,” Rodney scoffed.

“Are you talking about Sheppard liking guys?” Ronon asked. “‘Cause I already knew.”

Betrayed, Rodney glared at Sheppard, who snapped, “I didn’t tell him.”

“I watch a lot of movies with the Marines,” Ronon said. He sucked a glob of gravy off his thumb. “There was a gay guy in Be Cool.”

“Who, The Rock?” Rodney asked. “You used The Rock as a basis for figuring out Sheppard’s sexual identity?”

Ronon nodded seriously. “He was funny. He had an afro. It made me think about picking my hair out.”

Rodney snorted. “All that hair wouldn’t fit in one room. It would get in fight with Sheppard’s hair for team supremacy, and–”

“Hey,” Sheppard cut in.

“I’ve learned a lot about Earth from movies,” Ronon said. “Like how high school was the most important period of your life, and how everyone likes good-looking people the most.”

“Erm,” Rodney said.

“That’s not really true,” Sheppard said. “See, they’re just movies…”

“Also,” Ronon continued, pointing a food-slathered finger at Rodney, “never stick your dick in apple pie.”

“Never stick it into something you could otherwise eat,” Rodney said wisely.

Ronon looked pleased. “That’s good advice.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Sheppard said.

*

“You’re not still mad at me for hanging out with Teyla, are you?”

Rodney startled at the voice. He glanced over his shoulder at Sheppard in the doorway, his hands on his hips. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you lunatic. What are you doing down here? Are you following me?”

“Here” was the formerly-submerged room where Simpson had found the monocle. Rodney had tried everything he knew of to find out exactly what the device was, but he was out of resources. The database revealed nothing; anything he tried to do to the monocle had no effect. If he hadn’t been such a determined person, he would have written it off days ago. Instead, he’d had the brilliant idea of returning the place of its origin. Perhaps there was something in this room that would give him a clue.

Unfortunately, the wide, blue room was mostly empty. There was something that might have been a desk mounted to one wall; that was where the monocle had been found, most likely.

Sheppard shrugged. “I was bored,” he said easily, practically sauntering into the room. “I finished all my back-logged paperwork, so I don’t have anything to do. It doesn’t look like Teya’s going to go back to normal anytime soon.”

“Yeah, about that,” Rodney muttered.

Sheppard stopped walking when he barely two feet away from Rodney. Why had Rodney never noticed how Sheppard was just about crawling all over him all the time? He swore he didn’t used to be this stupid. Maybe it was all the sun he was getting. And all the time he was spending with Ronon.

Oddly, Sheppard breathing down his neck gave him courage. If Sheppard wasn’t going to the brave one, it was up to Rodney to get them out of this mess.

“I need to say something to you,” he said, a little louder than necessary. He drew himself up to full height. “Look, I know you see me when you look at Teyla.”

Sheppard’s expression stilled. “What?”

“And I’m not upset–”

“What makes you think I see you?” Sheppard asked.

Rodney felt his face flush. “Ah, well, remember the monocle? Zelenka thinks it was left by the Ancients, and it allows me to see everyone’s so-called ‘one true love.’”

Sheppard cocked his head. “How does that work?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Rodney said. “It’s made of glass, but it has this reddish– The point is, I saw you see me.”

“Rodney,” Sheppard started. His eyes darted left and right nervously.

“I wanted to tell you that it’s okay. It’s more than okay, really, because I’m very– flattered. I’m very flattered, and it’s nice knowing–”

Sheppard interrupted him with, “Cut the crap. We really don’t need to have this discussion, I’ve heard it all before. You like me but you don’t like me, you’re not gay–”

“Ah,” Rodney said, wincing.

“You are gay?” Sheppard shouted. “After you got mad at me for not coming out to you?”

“Well, excuse me for not being in touch with my sexuality at every moment of every day,” Rodney countered, throwing his arms in the air.

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Does too!”

“Does not! And are you saying you do like me?”

Sheppard was still shouting, which was probably a bad sign, but by this point Rodney was too worked up to care.

“Yes,” Rodney yelled back. It was entirely possible he was flailing, just a little. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, if you stopped interrupting.”

“Well, good!” Sheppard exclaimed.

“Fine,” Rodney shouted. “Should we make out now?”

“I don’t see why not,” Sheppard said, and jumped on him.

Twenty minutes later, they both both lying on the floor, panting, their pants and boxers around their ankles. Rodney’s entire body felt like it was made of rubber, and from the stunned look on Sheppard’s face, he was feeling the exact same way.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had on a floor,” Rodney said.

“Mmmm,” Sheppard sighed. He sat up and pulled his pants back up over his nice, lean thighs. Rodney had a lot of plans for those thighs, now that he’d been up close and personal with Sheppard’s mostly-naked body.

“The funny thing is,” Rodney said, moving to get his clothes back on and in order, “I didn’t even know I had feelings for you.”

“I did,” Sheppard said, “but mostly it was me imaging shutting you up with, well, something other than words, let’s say.”

Rodney eyed him. “If you mean your cock, we’re going to have to work our way up to that.”

Sheppard smirked. Then his gaze shifted and he asked, “Hey, so this is what you used to find out what everyone sees Teyla as?” He reached over and plucked the monocle off the floor, where it must have fallen out of Rodney’s pocket during their rush to tear off each other’s clothes.

“Will you put that down?” Rodney asked, as Sheppard put it on. He looked completely ridiculous. “It’s Ancient, you don’t know how to handle it like I do.”

“Whoa,” Sheppard interupted. “You’ve got to see this.”

*

“So the device appears to be, essentially, for reading messages written using a certain kind of– well, we’re not sure if it’s ink or paint yet. Some of the chemists are working on that.”

Sheppard added, “When I put on the, uh, monocle in that room, there were a bunch of messages written on the wall in Ancient.”

“And here I just thought you were going crazy, Rodney,” Elizabeth replied, but she was smiling. She looked a little too happy about this, actually. “I have to say, using a monocle as a tool for reading secret messages seems a bit silly. I always thought the Ancients were more sophisticated than that.”

“Well, the stuff written on the wall roughly translated to, ‘Ciceron is a butthead,’” Sheppard said sheepishly.

“Right,” Rodney said, “our best guess is it was a children’s toy, like a decoder ring from a Crackerjacks box.” All that precious work for nothing. At least he knew some potentially embarrassing things about a good number of his peers now. It was the only thing keeping him going. Well, that and the inevitable sexual olympics he’d have with Sheppard later.

Elizabeth folded her hands on her desk. She kept smiling, though, which was beginning to creep Rodney out. “Well, that’s interesting. I guess. Is there anything else you need to tell me about this device?”

Rodney and Sheppard exchanged glances. “No,” they said simultaneously.

“Hey,” Sheppard said quietly as soon as they were out of Elizabeth’s hearing range, “I need to talk to Elizabeth about some stuff, but do you want to have dinner later? Just the two of us? I mean, since we already, you know.” He made a funny gesture Rodney couldn’t decipher, but he got the gist.

“That sounds, um, very good,” Rodney said, keeping his voice steady. “I’ll see you then?”

Sheppard grinned. “Yeah.” He backed up a few steps without tearing his eyes away from Rodney’s, before finally turning and heading back into the office.

Rodney stood there for a brief moment, unable to move away. Until Sergeant Campbell cleared his throat and said, “Uh…”

“Oh, go back to drooling over Elizabeth,” Rodney snapped, and Campbell’s face turned red.

Later, he was alone in his lab when Teyla came strolling in. Only she wasn’t Sheppard anymore; she was herself.

“Oh no, one roll with Sheppard and I’ve fallen out of love with him already,” Rodney cried.

Teyla’s brows knitted. “I am sorry, what was that? Rodney, the device stopped working.”

He was instantly relieved. “I knew that. Did the projector run out of power?”

“No,” she replied. One corner of her mouth rose. “I believe the device did what it was intended to do.”

“Who’s your ‘true love’? And more importantly, are you saying the Mideans actually created something to help single people find a match?”

“While the rest of Atlantis saw me as someone else they desired, there was one person who saw me as myself.” She ducked her head, cheeks pinkening. “Elizabeth. That was why she was behaving oddly around me. I believe it was a revelation for herself as well.”

At least seventy-five per cent of Atlantis was in love with Elizabeth, but somehow, this surprised him the most. “Elizabeth? Really?” he said in surprise. Then he realized how that sounded. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. The opposite of wrong, really. It just never occured to me that you two would be interested in each other. Although I guess that makes sense, since there’s no hierarchy keeping you apart.”

“And she has a nice ass,” Teyla said.

Summary: Pre-The Return. Sheppard has a run-in with a Wraith. Things go downhill from there. McKay/Sheppard, Teyla/Other.

Spoilers: Up through and including SGA 3×08 McKay and Mrs Miller, and a tiny one for SG-1 7×07 Enemy Mine.

*

Part One: My So-Called Wraith

As a general rule, John Sheppard didn’t have high expectations. That was the kind of guy he was; the lower the bar was set, the less chance there was for disappointment.

It went without saying he hadn’t had any expectations when he’d walked through the stargate and into the Pegasus Galaxy. All he’d known was it was alien, it was far from home, and it would be hard-pressed for him to get into more trouble there than he already was on Earth. He hadn’t expected becoming commanding officer. He hadn’t expected having his own team. He hadn’t expected protecting Atlantis from Wraith, Genii, and more recently, evil killer androids. And he really, really hadn’t expected getting his life sucked out by a space vampire. That one in particular had never even crossed his mind, not when he’d been thinking things like, “What if the wormhole screws up and my head ends up on my ass?” and, “Will there be Vulcans?”

When John stepped back in the puddlejumper after saying goodbye to the Wraith who had saved him from Kolya’s SS agents, Rodney hissed, “I can’t believe you let him go.”

“He saved my life,” John said.

“So?” Rodney asked.

John rolled his eyes. “We have a bond?”

“He killed you!” Rodney exclaimed.

“He brought me back,” John said.

“Well, excuse me for being a little traumatized,” Rodney snapped.

He stomped to the front of the jumper. The three Marines in the back with John pointedly studied their boots.

John glanced up at Ronon, who raised his eyebrows in response. “What?” John asked.

“I’m traumatized too,” Ronon said.

John glared. “You are not.”

“You were old,” Ronon muttered.

One of the Marines raised his hand. “I’m traumatized.”

“I don’t even know you,” John said.

*

John’s first indication something was wrong was when he began considering getting a tattoo.

It wasn’t the tattoo that was the first giveaway; it was where he wanted it done. A few mornings after Jeannie Miller went back to Earth and Rod McKay went back to the Bizarro dimension, John spent a good ten minutes in front of the mirror wondering how badly a tattoo on the side of his face would hurt, and if he could get something deep and meaningful. Or if that failed, those dots Dax had on Deep Space Nine. Suddenly, it seemed like an amazingly cool idea. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.

“What do you think the Marines would say if I got a tattoo on my face?” he asked Rodney at breakfast.

“They’d say you were the coolest guy in cell block D,” Rodney said flatly. His head snapped up, eyes going wide. “Not that, uh, anyone would look at you and automatically think anything about prison. Or torture. Or being in prison and tortured. Because that would be ridiculous.”

He paused, and they stared at each other over their waffles — Rodney obviously flustered, and John remembering how after he’d almost turned into a Wraith last year, Rodney hadn’t said the words “bug” or “blue” for two months.

“You’re lucky my Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder keeps me from kicking your ass, McKay,” John said. Rodney’s expression turned slightly pained, and he added, “Don’t worry, the day you can’t make prison jokes around me is the day I start a Mensa club.”

Rodney still looked worried. “Yes, well. I’ve been trying to work on that whole…” He waved a hand. “Insensitive. Thing.”

“Yeah?” John asked. “How’s that going for you?”

“Let’s see, I’ve brought up you being in jail, and earlier today I told Elizabeth I slept so well last night I might as well have been in a coma.”

“So about as well as could be expected, then,” John said. Rodney snorted.

John was considering going through the line again for seconds when Rodney asked, mouth still full of food, “Hey, don’t the Wraith like putting tattoos on their faces?”

*

In retrospect, it had starting happening almost immediately after he’d escaped. Nothing John ate seemed to fill him up. Inititally, he thought it was his metabolism, because he had been working out a lot lately, but his weight didn’t change. He had worried he was developing some kind of unconscious, PTSD-related eating disorder, but then he remembered he wasn’t a chick. No matter what Rodney might say.

He’d been back from his stint as a PoW for three weeks when the nightmares started. Seeing himself as a Wraith was hard, but going to his friends’ rooms and feeding off them one by one was a lot harder. It always went in the same order, too: Ronon, Elizabeth, Teyla, Rodney. He’d feel a rush of pleasure, and then a warm fullness, like he’d just eaten a meal at Red Lobster, his favourite restaurant back on Earth. Of course, it wasn’t his favourite anymore. He felt drawn to the fried shrimp bucket, yet it repelled him.

One good thing about Rodney’s obsessive nature was no matter what time John woke up sweaty and freaked out, he’d be in his lab. Rodney never seemed to know what time it was, so John never got a lecture on how all good colonels should be asleep at four ‘o’ clock in the morning. Occasionally, when wandering the halls at early hours, he’d run into Elizabeth — he really didn’t want to know what she was doing — and she’d give him concerned looks. All Rodney did was talk about everything and nothing until John fell asleep again, the top of his head brushing McKay’s laptop.

“You don’t think it’s possible for the Wraith to have sucked out my brain, do you?” John asked one night, pulling up a stool to Rodney’s cluttered lab bench. He’d had a week of solid nightmares, and he was getting less scared and more pissed off with every one that hit.

Rodney looked at him like he was an idiot. “First, you’d have to have a brain for him to suck out,” he said.

John grimaced. “I’m serious! I think that stupid Wraith did something to me.”

Rodney stiffened and pushed his laptop aside. “‘Something’ how?” He peered at John with bright, sharp eyes. “Can you still do your job? Do we need to talk to Elizabeth? Am I in any danger?”

John rubbed the back of his neck. “No. It’s mostly nightmares and… stuff.” It sounded stupid when he said it out loud.

Rodney made signs that elaboration was needed. “Wanting to feed off me ’stuff’?”

John glared. “I just feel off, that’s all. I’m tired, and all I want to do is be alone.”

“And yet, here you are,” Rodney said sarcastically. “Colonel, I know I’m not exactly the epitome of mental health, but it sounds to me like you might be depressed.”

“I’m not depressed,” John said angrily. He never should have made that PTSD joke.

“You’ve been through quite an ordeal, and you didn’t exactly have a lot of time to recuperate. There’s no need to be ashamed. It’s perfectly understandable.”

“I am not depressed,” John repeatedly, enunciating each word slowly. “The Wraith did something to me. I don’t know what he did, but I can feel it.”

“Well, have you talked to Carson?”

“Carson can’t help if it’s in my head.”

“Okay, okay. It’s not like your well-being has any bearing on the safety of this expedition or anything.”

“If I start turning blue, I’ll see Carson,” John snapped, scratching his arm.

Rodney reached around him and opened a plastic container filled with something that smelled disgusting. John gagged. “What the hell are you eating?” he demanded, scooting his stool away quickly.

“It’s Thursday,” Rodney said. “Fishsticks?”

His stomach turned. “Can you eat it away from me?” he asked.

Rodney’s brow furrowed. “Sheppard, seriously, go see Carson.”

John dropped his face in his hands. “I’m starving,” he groaned.

“Are you telling me,” Rodney asked, voice rising, “that you long for the taste of human flesh?”

John stared. “Actually, I was thinking of a pizza.”

“Mmm, pizza,” Rodney said.

“Mmm, human flesh,” John sighed.

He didn’t go see Carson. He saw Heightmeyer, but that was only because Elizabeth wouldn’t have let him go on missions if he’d refused.

“Are you still having nightmares?” Heightmeyer would ask.

“Yup,” he would answer, and then stare at the water out the window as he made up traumatic stories about his childhood to distract her. His favourite was the one where his parents were Mormon missionaries who traveled around the world to spread the word of Jesus Christ while he sat home and lived off peanut butter and crackers, next to the one where his parents were traveling circus midgets.

Although that had backfired: “Is that why you have such a problem with your sexuality?” Heightmeyer had asked. “Because of your religious background?”

“I’m not gay,” John had said.

She’d given him a sorrowful look. “John, I can’t help you unless you’re honest with me.”

One day, shortly after he’d asked Rodney about the brain suckage, she said, “Rodney says you’re not dealing well with what happened. What do you think?”

“I think Rodney needs to shut his pie hole,” John grumbled.

There was no way in hell he was telling her about the Wraith getting in his head. Even if she did believe him, Carson would probably lock him up and dissect his brain or something.

“You went through serious emotional and physical trauma,” Heightmeyer said soothingly.

“I’ve been through worse,” he said.

“Really?” she asked.

He pretended to think about it. “There was that time my father threatened to disown me for throwing up on the scout for the Detroit Tigers, after my brother hit me in the head with a wild pitch.” It was, perhaps, the first time he’d mentioned his family since coming to Atlantis.

“John, stop lying to me about your childhood,” Heightmeyer said.

*

On top of being starving and afraid of seafood, he was losing interest in little things. He noticed football suddenly wasn’t any fun anymore, and he traded his sports DVDs to Zelenka for some artsy European films. When Ronon wanted to play “who can jump off the highest surface without getting hurt,” John said he was busy. He found himself telling Teyla over and over that he couldn’t hang out with her because he had too much work to do. Even Rodney, while still being annoying (yet sometimes annoying in a fun way, and when he was being a smug bastard, good-looking in a way that had John worrying about his own sanity), had noticed John wasn’t stopping by the labs as often.

Mostly, John spent a lot of time playing golf alone on the pier. It was quiet. It was nice.

It wasn’t the same as when he’d been turning into a bug. That time he’d felt himself changing from the inside out. He’d been full of rage, and it had taken him over. But whatever was going on now, he still felt like himself, just worn out and very, very hungry.

Thankfully, no one seemed to notice anything unusual. If there was one thing John was good at, it was being level-headed when things went south. There was no reason to let anyone know he was feeling weird. It wasn’t like it was hurting anyone. He was cool as a cucumber. He was steady as a rock. He was as unstoppable as… an unstoppable thing.

He was at the point of wondering whether Rodney was right and maybe he was just having a reaction to the torture, when something happened that confirmed every suspicion he’d had since his return.

They were in the briefing room; he and his team had just come back from an unusually boring mission to yet another farming planet. It had been a standard first contact mission. They’d gone in, did some recon, said hello to the locals, convinced the feudal lord they weren’t there to cause trouble, and gated home without incident.

“How did your mission go?” Elizabeth asked as they took their seats.

“Our mission was most successful,” Teyla said happily. She immediately launched into a riveting tale of the different kinds of harvesting techniques the people of Glendoria used.

John couldn’t help it: his mind wandered. He was concentrating on twirling his pen between his fingers when it slid from his grasp and rolled under Teyla’s chair. It was too far for him to reach from where he was sitting. He tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look at him. Teyla, get the pen, he tried to will with his mind. He needed that pen to stay awake.

Teyla continued with her speech, obviously pretending John wasn’t trying to get her attention. Elizabeth’s eyes flickered to him; he placed his palms flat on the table and smiled like he had an idea of what the hell Teyla was talking about.

TEYLA, he projected as loudly as possible.

Teyla twitched and looked around the room. “Excuse me, Dr Weir,” she said smoothly, bending down to take the pen out from under her chair. She passed it to John.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“You are welcome,” she said. “Dr Weir, as I was saying…”

It took him a second to realize what had happened. The pen slipped out of his fingers and clattered to the table. “Aren’t you a butterfingers today,” Rodney said.

*

Their latest search for ZPM’s — something John liked to think of as Round Two, the Elimination Chamber — left John with a feeling of deja-vu. When they stepped through the gate, he had to look over his shoulder to make sure Ronon was there and not Ford. Rodney would rattle on about power spikes, or sunburn, or the latest lab accident; Teyla would correct whatever direction John was heading in. It was just like old times, only this time their missing power source was Rodney’s fault. A guilt-ridden astrophysicist was a cranky astrophysicist.

P3X-461 was a world of wide, open pastures. On the one side were farms of what looked like blue corn. On the other, Earth cows. He could hear the squawks of chickens in the distance.

“That’s not something you see every day,” John said thoughtfully. “In the Pegasus galaxy, I mean.”

“I would kill for a medium-rare steak right about now,” said Rodney without glancing up from his PDA. John’s stomach rumbled in sympathy.

There was a road leading from the stargate. John hoped this meant this civilization was advanced enough to have indoor plumbing. Air conditioning would be nice too, but he wasn’t betting on it.

It was a nice day on Blue Corn World. The sky was clear, the birds sang. Rodney made disappointed noises as he checked his PDA; Ronon and Teyla lingered behind, talking about some Athosian woman who was cheating on her husband with one of John’s officers. It was, according to Teyla, “unwise,” and Ronon, “funny as hell.” John put his sunglasses on and raised his face to the sun.

Unfortunately, his mood went from relaxed to uneasy as he started noticing the change in the farm animals. Near the gate the cows and chickens were fat and healthy, but the further they went down the road, the more thin, wizened, and pale they became. The chickens were nearly featherless, and the cows’ skin was turning grey.

“Something appears to be wrong with these animals,” Teyla said.

“I’ve noticed that too,” John said. “McKay?”

Rodney looked at him sourly. “What, am I a veterinarian now? Maybe they have the Pegasus version of Mad Cow Disease.”

“The chickens too?” John asked.

“I don’t know. E coli?”

After about half an hour of walking, the road forked. There was a signpost, but of course, no one could read it.

“What do you know,” John said. He put his hands on his hips.

Rodney hmm-ed, scribbling something on his PDA. “We have two options. We can either head towards the pre-Industrial village on the path to the right, or we can head for the football field on our left.”

John frowned. “Football…?”

He turned in the direction Rodney was gesturing to, and his words caught in his throat. Down the road was a perfectly trimmed green and white football field, goal posts and all. There were even stands for an audience.

“Field,” he finished weakly. Cows, chickens, and football. Maybe they’d stepped out of the wormhole and into the mid-western US. “Did I hit my head when I walked through the gate?” he murmured to Rodney.

“Did anyone drink the water?” Rodney demanded.

“I say we go to the football field,” Ronon said, sounding amused.

“Funny, I was going to suggest we go to the village,” Rodney said dryly.

A thin, drooping chicken wandered up to them, dragging its feet. It looked up at John with cold, dead eyes. “Bock,” it cried weakly, then collapsed.

All four of them took a big step backwards.

“This is officially the creepiest planet we’ve ever been to,” said John.

“All we need now is for the inhabitants to be pretending to be Amish, and we’re set,” Rodney agreed.

*

Looked like a football field. John toed the grass. Felt like a football field.

“Stop that,” Rodney insisted from the sidelines. “What if it’s booby-trapped?”

John raised an eyebrow. “The field?”

“Force fields, land mines, triggers, hello!”

“John, Rodney is right,” Teyla said. But she poked the ground with the butt of her P-90.

“Maybe it’s not football,” Ronon said. He was standing next to McKay. “Maybe it’s just something that’s similar.”

Teyla shook her head. “No, I agree with the Colonel and Rodney. This looks exactly like a football field from the videos I have seen.”

“So we’re in agreement then,” John said. His teammates all looked at him. “This is bad.”

He scanned their surroundings; there was a forest not far from here. It didn’t look especially dark or sinister, but there was something about it he couldn’t put his finger on.

“I say we go there,” he said, nodding at the trees.

“You’re kidding me,” Rodney said. “Why don’t we go to the village and ask the helpful native population?”

He glanced at Teyla. She was studying the forest with an odd, intense expression. He didn’t need telepathy to tell him that whatever it was, she felt it too. She hadn’t mentioned the mind reading incident yet, and he had a feeling she hadn’t even realized what had happened. He sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up on his own; it was way too awkward. He could imagine what she’d say: “I am not sure how I feel about this change in our relationship.” Their talk on the Daedalus still gave him the wiggens, and that had been months ago.

“Come on, McKay,” John said casually, turning the safety off his P-90. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Ronon chuckled, unholstering his gun.

“One mission,” Rodney grumbled as the team headed for the woods. “I ask for one mission where we don’t endanger our lives.”

*

There was definitely something going on with the forest. The closer they got, the more John could feel it. By the time they reached the first scattering of trees, his skin was covered in goosebumps, and his mouth was dry.

He couldn’t tell if Teyla felt it anymore. Her face wasn’t giving anything away.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Rodney asked.

“Something weird. Unusual. Out of the ordinary,” John said.

John was kind of proud when Rodney took the safety off his gun and trailed after Teyla without having to be told. He did throw John a look that either meant don’t-get-yourself-killed or I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this, but John wasn’t going to let that ruin the moment.

Ronon was twirling his gun when John turned back to him. John started, “Don’t forget, look for–”

“Something weird,” Ronon said, smirking a little. “I heard you.”

The great thing about doing recon with Ronon was Ronon didn’t need silly things like words. He didn’t talk incessantly or make funny noises while reading data, like Rodney, or ask John a lot of questions, like Teyla. Nope, Ronon was a soldier, a warrior, and he and John together were like two kindred souls finally–

Ronon took off running.

“Hey!” John cried.

“Wraith,” Ronon shouted over his shoulder. “This way!”

They really needed to get Ronon a radio. They — by which John meant Elizabeth — had decided he didn’t need one after John had caught him chewing the mic during a meeting. It was like trying to teach a puppy to talk into its collar.

“I’m coming,” John yelled back, watching Ronon get smaller and smaller. He radioed Rodney and Teyla: “Ronon found a Wraith. We’re going after it.”

“We are moving in your direction,” Teyla confirmed.

As fast as he could, John followed Ronon’s path, jumping over logs and ducking under branches. But he was too late; five minutes later, he stood completely alone in the middle of the woods.

“Ronon?” he called.

A twig snapped.

He ducked behind a tree as a male Wraith stepped out of the bushes. The Wraith seemed to be muttering to himself in that creepy hissing language.

John silently counted to three and came out shooting; he missed as the Wraith dove behind a tree trunk, and John threw himself behind the tree closest to him, listening for any sign of movement. There were no answering shots, and if John could back the creature into a corner, he might be able to get enough holes in it to kill it, or at least hold it off until Ronon or Teyla got there.

He was just about ready to fire again when a hand grabbed his shoulder. John gasped and spun around to find himself face-to-face with the Wraith. He registered the geometric tattoo on the left side of the Wraith’s head, but his hand holding the gun came up automatically.

His finger was already tightening on the trigger when the Wraith said, “Sheppard,” breaking out into a huge, pointy-toothed grin. It was the Wraith who had saved him from Kolya.

John shot him in the chest.

The Wraith stumbled to the ground, gasping. “Sheppard?” he repeated incredulously. Something fell out of his hand and bounced off.

“I’m sorry,” John said, cringing as the Wraith pressed one hand against the open wound. “I told you all bets were off!”

“You’d just died! People say things they don’t mean when they’re under duress,” the Wraith moaned.

It’s a Wraith, it’s a Wraith, John told himself. Be stoic. Be a man. Blow off its head. But when the Wraith hissed, “That hurt,” he gave into his guilt.

John dropped to the ground beside him and fished around in his tac vest for bandages. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought your Wraith buddies found you.”

“They did,” the Wraith said, waving the gauze away. Already John could see the wound closing. “I had problems… adjusting.”

John’s gaze was drawn to what the Wraith had dropped, half-hidden in the bushes: a hand-made football.

“You mean because you were in the Genii prison for so long?” John asked slowly, not sure what was going on here.

The Wraith nodded. “That, and I refused to feed.”

A jolt of shock ran through him. For a second, he forgot about the football. “You refused to feed?” he asked. “On humans?”

“I felt bad,” said the Wraith. “I had been in that cell for so long, all I wanted to do was play games and sit out in the sun, and they kept shoving these humans at me. I’ve been feeding off some of the animals on the nearby human homesteads.”

“So you’re the Wraith equivalent of a vegetarian,” John remarked.

The Wraith pushed himself to his feet. John stood too. It was impossible to tell that a few minutes ago John had shot a hole through his chest.

“Are you going to kill me?”

John hesitated. “I should,” he said uncertainly. He’d always had a soft spot for people who saved his life, even if those people were evil vampires bent on human destruction. “My friends are going to be here soon, and they’re not going to be too happy to see you.”

“I thought we had a bond,” the Wraith said.

“We do,” John protested. “And if I was friends with Wraith, we would totally be buddies. But it’s just not gonna happen.”

“I can change,” pleaded the Wraith.

“No, you can’t,” John said. “We’re like oil and water. Citrus and McKay. I’m a Klingon and you’re a Romulan. It’ll never work.”

“You’re a cling-on?” the Wraith asked.

At the Wraith’s blank look, John explained, “Klingons. Big foreheads? Growl a lot?”

The Wraith took his hand. “Just give me a chance. I’ll never eat humans again.”

“What the fuck is going on here?”” Rodney yelped.

John jumped, pulling his hand away hastily as Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon came out of the trees in three different directions. Their guns were aimed at the Wraith.

“No, no, no,” John yelled quickly. He waved his arms, blocking their target between him and the tree. “Nobody’s killing this Wraith. This is a good Wraith. See? He’s not eating anybody. Good Wraith.”

“Good Wraith?” Ronon repeated, face going slack with shock in a way that would’ve been funny under different circumstances.

“There are no good Wraith,” Teyla said darkly.

“Are you out of your mind?” Rodney demanded. He pointed his Baretta over John’s shoulder as he stepped forward and held a fumbling hand against John’s forehead. “Did it do something to you? Are you under Wraith control? Did it do that telepathic thing? Did I just hear it professing its love to you, or am I going crazy?”

John knocked his hand away. “Stop it. I’m not under mind control. If I was, I’d be acting like a zombie.”

“What’s going on here?” Ronon growled.

“This is the Wraith who saved me from Kolya. And he’s not feeding on people, so he’s not a threat.”

Teyla looked at the Wraith with genuine surprise. “Why are you not feeding?”

“I don’t know, it feels wrong now,” said the Wraith.

“A Wraith with a conscience,” Rodney sneered.

Something hit John. The football. The lack of feeding. His hunger. His weird psychic connection to Teyla. His longing for a face tattoo. “Lightbulb!” he said excitedly.

Rodney threw his hands in the air. “Great, Sheppard’s gone insane.”

“Shut up, McKay,” John said. He was onto something. He could feel it. “Hey, uh, Wraith, has anything else been different lately? Have you been feeling kind of… off?”

“Insects have been bothering me lately,” the Wraith said. He almost sounded sheepish. “They were not a problem before.”

“So he shares your bug phobia, so what?” Rodney asked John.

“It’s not a phobia, it’s a discomfort,” John said, scowling.

“You’re afraid of bugs?” Ronon asked.

“Did you miss that little incident a year ago when he turned into one?” Rodney demanded.

“He makes me kill all the moths that fly into his office,” said Teyla. “And once, a cricket.”

“You have an office?” Ronon asked John.

John ignored the three of them. “And this game you’ve been playing, you came up with it yourself?”

“I had a dream,” the Wraith admitted. “There were many cheers and lights, and human men in tight pants.”

John poked Rodney in the chest and smirked triumphantly. “I told you I wasn’t depressed. The Wraith and I must’ve mind melded when he gave me my life back.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Rodney said.

“Okay, then explain how he knew about football. And why he doesn’t like bugs. And why he doesn’t want to feed.”

“Just because football is some huge thing–”

John frowned. “Hey, football isn’t a huge thing. I think about other stuff, like college basketball, and–”

“Baseball?”

“No,” John said vehemently. “Never baseball. Never.”

“I have never heard of an instance when a human and a Wraith have… mind melded,” Teyla said, frowning.

The Wraith’s face screwed up. “I’ve heard stories. About what has happened when we give the gift to those outside our brethren. They say sometimes, the Wraith go mad.”

“See, there,” Rodney said. “Madness. That makes perfect sense. Certainly much more than you two sharing a brain.”

John wasn’t going to let Rodney talk him out of it. He knew this was right. Deep inside, he felt this was right. He and the Wraith — who really needed a name, he’d get on that ASAP — had shared something on that Genii planet, something that bound them together. It explained the way he’d felt ever since he’d come back from being tortured.

The Wraith looked at John warmly. “Brother,” he said happily. John smiled back.

“I don’t care if it’s your best friend,” Ronon said. “I’m killing it.”

Ronon’s gun whined as he powered it up. John took a step closer to Ronon, making sure the Wraith was behind him. “No, you’re not,” he said firmly. “And that’s an order.”

“John is right,” Teyla said reluctantly. “If this Wraith has absorbed some of John’s personality, then we are responsible for his being unable to return to his hive.”

“I can’t believe you’re agreeing to this,” Rodney said to her. He sounded appalled.

John wrenched the gun of out Ronon’s grasp, flipped it from kill to stun, and shot the Wraith. He fell to the ground, twitching violently and kicking up fallen leaves.

“What are you doing?” Teyla demanded.

John tried to rearrange the Wraith in a way that would be best for carrying him back to the stargate. “We can’t leave him here. Like you said, he’s our responsibility. My responsibility.”

“You want to take him back to Atlantis?” Teyla asked, eyes widening.

“Oh, this is a bad idea,” Rodney moaned, “a bad, bad idea.”

Teyla grabbed John’s arm. “Elizabeth is not going to let you bring another Wraith into the city.”

“I’ll deal with Elizabeth,” he said.

*

“Colonel, would you care to explain to me what your plan is?” Elizabeth asked. John had no idea what she was talking about, but her squinty eyes and tight smile were kind of scary. “I just assumed that if you’re bringing a Wraith into Atlantis without first consulting me, you must have a brilliant plan up your sleeve.”

Yes, definitely scary. “Well,” he started. “It’s a little complicated.”

“He thinks he and the Wraith have a bond,” Ronon said helpfully.

John glared in Ronon’s general direction. “I figured we could, you know–” He smiled at Elizabeth charmingly. “–retrovirus him.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Retrovirus him.”

His smile faded. “I know it didn’t go so well the last two times we tried it, but I think this time it could work.”

Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment, then down the table at his team. He didn’t want to see the looks on their faces right now. “First of all, Colonel, ‘retrovirus’ is not a verb. Much like ‘crappy, but still pretty awesome’ is not necessarily an adequate description of an uninhabited planet with a stargate for our network. Second, you know very well the danger this poses.”

“This is the Wraith who saved me from Kolya.”

“The Colonel believes he and the Wraith… exchanged certain personality traits when he was given his life back,” Teyla said, stepping up to bat.

This time Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, which was how he found himself, not ten minutes later, in the infirmary giving samples of too many bodily functions to name. Then he was whisked away for an MRI, X-Ray, and EKG. Ronon was sent to go make sure the Wraith didn’t wake up before Elizabeth decided what to do with him.

“You’re not going to find anything,” John said petulantly, swinging his legs off the side of the stiff infirmary bed. “There’s nothing wrong with me. We just… exchanged some feelings. It was more like a soul thing.”

“You should have come to me the instant you realized something was wrong,” Elizabeth admonished.

“I went to Rodney,” he said.

“Gee, thanks,” Rodney muttered, as Elizabeth said, “Rodney! I can’t believe the two of you kept this a secret. You may have seriously compromised our position.”

“I told you, he’s a good Wraith,” John said.

“And you know this because of your ‘bond’?” Elizabeth asked.

He didn’t like the way he sounded when she said it. “That, and he hasn’t been feeding off of humans,” John explained cheekily. “He’s been eating the cows.”

Elizabeth cocked a brow at him. At that moment, Carson chose to walk in. He pinned a colourful print-out of John’s brain to the light box on one of the walls, and immediately Elizabeth, Rodney, and Teyla crowded around it. John stayed where he was.

“According to these scans, you’re perfectly normal, Colonel,” Carson said, flipping through some pages on his clipboard. “There is no sign of head trauma, which is often linked to personality change. Last time, when you were affected by the Iratus bug, there were significant changes in your brain chemistry, but none of those changes are present here. As far as I can tell, your brain isn’t any different today than it was before the, um, feeding.”

Before John could casually mention how he was so right and they were so wrong, Rodney asked, “Then how do you explain what happened to the Wraith?”

Carson shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t. We know what happens when a Wraith feeds, but we’ve never had the opportunity to study what happens with the process is reversed. Honestly, I didn’t know such a thing was possible until it happened to Colonel Sheppard.”

“Which is exactly why we cannot turn the Wraith,” Elizabeth said.

Teyla said, “This Wraith did save John’s life.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, and so did Michael.”

“We betrayed his trust.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing to this one?”

“No,” John insisted, “we’re helping him. He’d either starve out there in the wild, or he’d get so hungry he’d start picking off the locals.”

“He’s not a pet, Sheppard,” said Rodney.

Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re sure he was playing football? And not some kind of Wraith sport?”

“Like what, Wraithball?” Rodney asked sarcastically.

“We don’t have a shield anymore,” she said, but he could tell she was cracking. “If the Wraith come–”

John put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, meeting her eyes. “If the Wraith come, it’ll be because Michael and his buddies got off the planet before we could blow them to kingdom come, not because we stunned this one and brought him back unconscious.”

When Elizabeth exhaled slowly, John knew he’s gotten through to her. She fisted her hands at her sides. “I’m allowing this on one condition: you take full responsibility for his actions. We are not having a repeat of the Michael fiasco. You make sure this Wraith does not have access to anything — or anyone — that might give a clue to what he is. He’ll be closely watched at all times.” She leveled him with a steady gaze. “And you need to be able to terminate him if this fails.”

“Absolutely,” John said. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

*

“What’re you going to name this one?” Rodney asked.

John looked at the Wraith’s unmoving body, one clawed hand clutching the homemade football like a security blanket. “Mark,” he said thoughtfully.

“You’re naming him after Major Lorne?”

John glared. “That’s his middle name, and no. After my brother.”

Rodney gave him a funny look, and Carson said, “Ah, alright, Mark it is. It sounds a lot like Michael, though, are you sure Teyla won’t be–?”

“Nah, Mark is fine,” John said.

“I have an idea for a last name,” Rodney offered.

“We’re not naming him Mark Wahlberg,” John said.

“I was thinking Mark Messier,” Rodney said, scowling. “Famous hockey player? Of course, we could just name him Mark Sheppard, and you can have all your issues in one convenient, Wraith-shaped package.”

The Wraith hugged his football to his chest and rolled onto his side. “Messier might work,” John mused. Hockey was nothing like baseball.

“It looks like he’s finally asleep,” Carson said, sighing like watching Mark struggle deliriously had been hard for him.

“I’m still waiting for the brother explanation,” Rodney said. He made a beckoning gesture. “Any day now.”

“Not talking about it,” John said pleasantly.

“Does this have something to do with why you can’t watch baseball?” Rodney asked.

“Maybe I just prefer golf,” John said, knowing Rodney heard the “I don’t want to talk about it” in his tone, and Rodney muttered something under his breath that sounded like “gay” and “Republicans.”

“The Wraith’s not going to remember anything, right?” Ronon asked.

“We should hope not,” Carson said. “Michael didn’t remember anything concrete until he stopped taking his injections.”

John nodded solemnly. “So all I need to do is make sure Mark here doesn’t get too suspicious, and we should be okay.”

“Mm,” Carson said, sounding unconvinced.

“Should I go find it a hat?” Ronon asked seriously.

John blinked. “No, I’ll go find him something of mine.”

Rodney snorted. “We all know the cowboy hat was yours, Colonel.”

John nudged Rodney with his elbow. Rodney looked affronted. “What would you tell me about myself if I had amnesia?” John asked, ignoring the raised eyebrow Ronon sent him.

“I’d tell you that you like to give Caldwell blowjobs,” Rodney said. “And you’ve only ever liked British punk rock and The Who.”

“I’d be really confused when I found all the alt-country on my iPod,” John drawled.

“Please, like I don’t know your iPod’s full of Paula Abdul and Michael Jackson.”

“I can moonwalk like a pro,” John said.

Carson tutted. “Rodney, it is very inappropriate for you to be making jokes about the Colonel giving blowjobs!”

“It’s okay,” John said jokingly, “at least he isn’t grabbing my ass this time.”

With a repulsed look, Carson turned away. John’s stomach knotted, but when he glanced at Rodney, Rodney was smirking to himself, staring out the glass window at Mark.

As soon Carson went down to check on his patient, taking Ronon with him as protection, John took a chance. He grinned at Rodney and poked him the side with his elbow. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’d tell you if you had amnesia?”

“Okay?” Rodney asked suspiciously.

“I’d say you know me like no one else does,” John told him, feeling ridiculous. His heart was beating so fast he could feel it in his throat.

Rodney gazed at him for a long moment, and just as John was thinking what it’d be like to grab him and kiss him right there in front of Carson and Ronon and an unconscious Wraith, he snickered. “Good one, Colonel.” He patted John on the shoulder as he left, shaking his head.

John leaned over the railing. “Only the Wraith understands me,” he muttered dejectedly.

*

Part Two: Wraith Meets World

Mark the ex-Wraith had blond hair, blue eyes, and a wide, toothy smile that was more than a little creepy, considering what he’d been just a few days ago. That stupid tattoo was still on his face. Even with that, he was appallingly good-looking, in a kind of blond, pretty boy way. Rodney hated himself.

“Hi. Do we know each other?” Mark asked, as Rodney stood there holding his tray.

“Uh, no, not really,” Rodney said, glancing at Sheppard. “We met in passing, once or, um, twice.” He held out one hand, awkwardly balancing his tray with the other. “Dr Rodney McKay.”

Mark looked at Rodney’s hand.

“You’re supposed to shake it,” Sheppard said.

“Ah,” Mark said, and pumped Rodney’s hand. “Sorry. I have amnesia. Head injury.” He lowered his eyes and grinned at Sheppard slyly. “Or so they tell me.”

“Ha, ha,” Rodney said a little too loudly. Sheppard glared at him.

He wasn’t sure if it was okay with Sheppard if he joined them at their table, but he did anyway. Sheppard gave him a sideways glance, munching on what looked like a baby carrot but probably wasn’t. “How’s it going, Rodney? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“And whose fault has that been?” Rodney asked.

“We were just talking about sports,” Mark said, propping his elbows on the table. “John said I like this one called football, and he’s going to show me some other ones later. Maybe there will be something we can play with the Marines, eh? I’m dying to get some fresh air after being cooped up in the infirmary for so long. Do you like to play anything, Dr McKay?”

“‘John‘?” Rodney repeated flatly. Sheppard studied the table. “Actually, the Colonel and I have very different opinions on what constitutes a good sport. I prefer hockey to football. And besides, it’s hard to get out to play games when you’re busy keeping the city from falling apart.”

“How do you keep the city from falling apart?”

“With the astonishing power of my brain,” Rodney said, puffing his chest out a little.

“Wow,” Mark said, looking a little dazed. “That’s really cool.”

Sheppard raised his head and narrowed his eyes at Mark.

“Yes, it is remarkable,” Rodney agreed.

“Don’t you have things to do?” Sheppard asked snidely.

“Why, am I butting in on best friend time?” Rodney sneered back. They hadn’t seen each other for days; Sheppard had been spending all his free time making sure Mark was “comfortable.” Ronon and Teyla told him they hadn’t seen much of Sheppard either. It wasn’t like Rodney needed to see Sheppard every day, but a “I missed you, bestest buddy” would’ve been nice.

“Maybe we were in the middle of a conversation,” Sheppard said instead. He leaned back in his chair.

Rodney stood, picking up his tray. “Fine. I’ll go do some actual work, since it looks like no one else is bothering to.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr McKay,” Mark said brightly.

“See you,” Sheppard said, but his attention was focused completely on Mark.

As Rodney made his way out of the commissary, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. Mark was leaning over and whispering something in Sheppard’s ear. They looked good together. Sheppard threw back his head and laughed, clapping Mark on the shoulder, and Rodney’s chest felt tight. It had taken him months to get even a chuckle out of Sheppard, and this man — this Wraith — had done it in a matter of days.

When Sheppard continued laughing, Mark recoiled, looking disturbed. Rodney seethed. That was his laugh.

“Stupid, hot Wraith,” he grumbled.

*

In Rodney’s very humble opinion, the worst part about having a former Wraith living in Atlantis wasn’t the security risk. It wasn’t that the guy would go back to being a killing machine if he forgot his shots. It wasn’t even the discomfort of knowing the person you were talking to wasn’t really a person at all.

It was the fact the Wraith — excuse him, Mark, named after Sheppard’s secret brother, and what the hell was up with that, anyway? — took up entirely too much of Sheppard’s time.

It was even worse than when Sheppard had adopted Ronon. Instead of being taciturn and judgmental like He-Man, Mark was eager and open-minded. Every time Rodney ran into the two of them together, Mark would say, “Hey, Dr McKay, tell me something interesting that happened in the lab today,” or he’d ask Rodney to join them for a rousing game of golf (like Rodney played golf), or worse, he’d try to get Rodney to go jogging with them. Apparently, Rodney’s blank stare of horror after the first prompting hadn’t been enough to stop him from asking on a daily basis.

Basically, Mark was a less intelligent, more obnoxious Canadian surfer version of Sheppard, and Sheppard was pretty damn annoying as it was. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t for that incredibly disturbing mind melding thing; not that Rodney was considering that a possibility, because it was ludicrous.

A few days after what Rodney thought of as the Lunchtime Incident, or That Time Sheppard had Laughed for Mark Messier, and Oh, How Rodney Regretted Giving him the Name of a Hero and Fellow Countryman, he came into his lab to find Sheppard and Mark digging through a supply closet. They were whispering and giggling like twelve year-old girls. It was just a step down from Sheppard’s normal mental age of fourteen.

“What,” Rodney said loudly, “are you two doing?”

They startled. “Nothing,” Sheppard replied with his typical wide-eyed, innocent expression, slipping something into the pocket of his BDUs. Mark — who’d been gazing at Sheppard adoringly — covered his laughter with a cough.

“Colonel, may I speak to you alone?” Rodney gritted out.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows. “Sure.” He looked at Mark fondly. Rodney’s left eye twitched. “Mark, you go ahead, I’ll see you at the pier in a couple of hours.”

“Okay,” Mark said, edging towards the exit. He gave Rodney a little wave as he passed. “Bye, Dr McKay.”

As soon as the door whispered shut, Rodney said, “Have you lost your mind? You’re– you’re cavorting around with that Wraith! Why don’t you two just hold hands and skip around the city? And then maybe later he’ll take you back to his hive and make you an honourary member.”

“I’m doing my job,” Sheppard said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t feel alienated.”

“And you’re so dedicated, spending all your time with him, sneaking him into labs where we work on very dangerous experiments. That mind control must still be working. My God, it’s like a train wreck happening before my very eyes. Come on, we’re going straight to Carson so he can deprogramme you or wave a gourd in your face or one of his other magic tricks.”

When Sheppard just stood there, Rodney impatiently snapped his fingers. Sheppard glared fiercely. “I am dedicated to keeping Mark from figuring out what’s going on. I know what I’m doing.” His glare lessened. “Sort of. I think. Anyway, you’re over-reacting. There’s nothing to worry about. He’s not going to hurt you.”

It wasn’t really himself he was worried about being hurt.

Sheppard having a new best friend did, however, leave Rodney with plenty of free time, which Rodney supposed could be best spent working on their more immediate concerns, like how they were all going to die if they didn’t get a new power source, and soon. It was just as well he didn’t have anyone distracting him from his very important work.

“You have been anti-social lately,” Zelenka remarked with mock-casualness. He rifled through the toolbox on Rodney’s bench. Obviously it was a ruse to look over Rodney’s shoulder at his data.

“Maybe I’m trying to keep the rest of you monkey-brained cretins from squandering the last fraction of our ZPM on trivial bullshit like blowdryers and laser shows,” Rodney sneered.

“Or maybe,” Zelenka said, peeking over the rim of his glasses to inspect the head of a screwdriver, “you have been replaced by a Wraith.”

Rodney stiffened. “Why you think I’d want to waste my time with that– that–”

“That?” Zelenka asked.

“What does it matter to you anyway?”

Zelenka raised an eyebrow. “You are especially unpleasant when sulking. And we are not used to you being here so much; I think the others fear for their lives.”

“If they couldn’t handle public humiliation, they never should’ve joined the SGC,” Rodney sniffed. “I’m pretty sure it was a prerequisite.”

The doors swooshed open, and Sheppard stumbled into the lab. He had a big, purple bruise on his forehead. His pants were ripped at the knees. His hair may or may not have been in disarray; it was hard to tell.

“What the hell happened to you?” Rodney demanded, rising to his feet.

“Fell down a flight of stairs trying to keep Mark away from Ronon,” Sheppard said.

“Did it work?” Zelenka asked.

“Yeah, but only because Ronon ran off to get Carson while Mark stayed to make sure I was conscious. Which I was. Unfortunately.” Sheppard sighed and collapsed on the nearest empty stool, asking, “What’re you up to? Learned how to build us a new ZPM yet?” and Rodney smirked at Zelenka. It looked like he wasn’t so easy to replace after all.

*

Some people wouldn’t have been able to deal with their mind being melded with a Wraith. John figured it was a sign of his professionalism when it really didn’t bother him. In fact, it made things better, now that he knew something was wrong for sure and he wasn’t going to turn blue and scale the walls. Again.

That wasn’t to say he was cool with what had happened. He still had nightmares, almost nightly; when he woke up starving and panicked, he thought bitterly, oh yeah, having your brain sucked by a Wraith blew. But the days weren’t so bad. He was easily distracted by spending most of his time trying to keep Mark from remembering he was an evil vampiric alien. There were days when all he did was show Mark the coolest places in the city to hang out. There were days when when he’d hit one stroke under par. There were days when he’d get a few minutes to himself to go bug Rodney, even if Rodney liked to pretend he was doing John a huge favour by letting him hang out.

Then there were the days he would walk down the hall and get hit in the face with a football.

He was on his way to finish some paperwork he’d been avoiding for weeks when Major Lorne, a good twenty yards away and wearing a jersey for Arizona State University that totally wasn’t his because if John couldn’t play college ball, Lorne sure as hell couldn’t have, shouted, “Hey, Colonel, catch!”

John’s face exploded in pain as the football smacked him square in the chin, knocking him off-balance and onto his ass. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to keep from screaming in agony.

“Fuck,” someone said. “Lorne, you broke the colonel’s jaw.”

“They’re gonna send you back to that mine planet,” said someone else.

Hands were touching his jaw, and when he opened his watering eyes, Lorne was in his face, looking pretty terrified. “Shit, shit, I’m so sorry, sir, please don’t reassign me, I can’t go back to the mines. Daniel Jackson spends his vacations there.”

“If you break your jaw, don’t they wire it shut?”

“Yeah, it happened to my sister in junior high. She had to wear a head brace and everything.”

“Oh my God, a head brace,” Lorne said.

“My jaw’s not broken,” John managed, batting Lorne away. It hurt to talk, but none of his teeth felt loose. Gingerly, he brought a hand to his throbbing chin. “Ow. Major, I know you wanted a promotion, but I never thought you’d try to kill me to get it.”

“It’s nice to know there’s no lasting emotional trauma from what happened to the guy before you, sir.” John glared a little. Lorne offered John a hand up, but John felt there’d already been enough touching for the day. He climbed to his feet on his own.

“Sir, you want to join us?” one of the Marines asked.

John looked down at the football in Lorne’s hands, and, unsurprisingly, didn’t feel the urge to play. “No thanks. I think I’ll go work on my swing.” Lorne looked at him, uncomprehending, and he added, “My golf swing.”

Lorne blinked slowly. “Golf, sir? Isn’t that kind of boring?”

“It’s not boring,” John said, offended. “Would I play it if it was boring?”

“You like Sudoku puzzles,” Lorne said.

John narrowed his eyes. “You know, I’m re-thinking that whole mine planet thing.”

“You’re the coolest dude on the base, sir,” Lorne replied.

“See, that’s what I like to hear,” John said cheerfully. “Okay, guys, as fun as it’s been to ruin years of painful dental work, I need to–”

“Sir, can I talk to you for a minute?” Lorne interrupted. “Privately?”

John frowned. “Alright,” he replied, and let himself be dragged away to an alcove.

“Sir, the Wraith came on to me,” Lorne said.

“He what?” John asked, voice cracking embarrassingly.

Lorne glanced over his shoulder at the Marines he’d been playing with. “I thought I should warn you, sir. In case he got those… feelings from you during the brain fusion.” John stared at him. Lorne cleared his throat. “You know, my middle name is Mark.”

“Go back to your game, Major,” John said flatly.

Lorne backed up slowly — like John would check out his ass, Lorne was barely taller than Teyla — until John rolled his eyes and headed in the direction of the pier. He definitely heard Lorne tell the men: “Golf is gay.”

*

“Hello, you must be Mr Messier,” Teyla said.

Mark beamed. His pale cheeks went bright pink. “I, uh, yes. Hi. What’s your name?”

“I am Teyla Emmagen of Athos.” She touched her chest, and then Ronon’s. “This is Ronon Dex of Sateda. We are pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

“Hmm,” Ronon said.

“Oh crap,” John said, running up the otherwise-empty corridor to separate them. The last thing he needed was for a repeat of the Michael catastrophe. Things had been going so well, too.

John pointed at Mark. “You, over there.” Then at Ronon. “You, go back to– I don’t really know what you do, but do it away from him.”

“We were just talking,” Teyla protested. “I merely wished to introduce myself to the man you’ve been spending your days with.”

She smiled at Mark. Mark smiled back. Ronon’s lip curled.

“Perhaps you would like to spar with me in the near future,” she said in a way that was strangely suggestive. John met the impassive gazes of Mark’s two-man company and raised an eyebrow.

Mark gave her an intense look. “I’d like that very much.”

With a flirty glance from under her lashes, Teyla left, with the swing to her hips she usually reserved for hot, twenty year-old Marines. John’s eyebrow was so high by now it was hurting.

Ronon and Mark watched her leave, with equal slack-jawed, glazed expressions; John watched them watch her, and smirked. His smirk faded when Ronon slowly, slowly turned to glare at Mark.

“I’d tap that,” Mark said dreamily, still staring in the direction in which Teyla had left.

“Okay,” Ronon said, “that’s it.”

Before John knew what was happening, Ronon had shoved Mark against the wall. “Stay away from her,” he hissed.

“Ronon,” John warned.

Mark pushed back, saying, “Make me,” and slammed his hand against Ronon’s chest. John flinched.

Sergeants Edison and Billick, who shouldn’t have even let Mark and Ronon get this close to begin with, pulled them apart. Ronon was bearing his teeth like a wolf; Mark was struggling against the powerful arms Billick had wrapped around his rib cage, reaching out to Ronon, hands curled into claws. John stood there with his mouth open. He felt like he should say something. He didn’t though, and Mark clutched his right hand — His feeding hand, John thought — to his chest and yelled, “Okay, stop it, I’m done, I’m done.”

“Sorry about that, sir,” Edison said to John, flushing.

“Yeah, uh,” John said. He looked at Ronon and Mark, gazing into Mark’s eyes a little too long. “Don’t do that again.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed just slightly. He said, “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

*

Rodney was sitting on his bed in his t-shirt and boxers and trying to decide what tv show to fall asleep to when Sheppard burst through the door. One side of his face was red and slightly puffy. He looked like an idiot. A ridiculously attractive idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

“There’s something wrong with Mark,” Sheppard said.

Rodney snapped his laptop closed, glaring. “Couldn’t you have knocked? What if I was asleep? Or naked?”

Sheppard’s face went blank for a second, then he glanced at his watch pointedly. “It’s fourteen hundred hours.”

“I was just about to take a nap. There’s no immediate crises that I’m aware of. I’m perfectly in my right.”

“Well, now there is. Something’s wrong with Mark.”

“One, you said that already, and two, of course there’s something wrong with him, he’s a Wraith,” Rodney said. There were huge circles under Sheppard’s eyes. “Three, when was the last time you slept?”

Sheppard scrubbed his face. “A while ago. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought Mark back with us. We can never have a normal friendship. I’ll always know he used to be a Wraith, and he’ll never be a scientist or an officer.” He looked up with a pitiful pout. “Rodney, am I a bad person?”

“Jesus Christ,” Rodney said, “are you seriously debating the ethics of being in a relationship with an alien vampire who sucked your love of football from your head?”

Sheppard sat heavily on the end of Rodney’s bed, narrowly missing his feet. “He got in a fight with Ronon, and he put his hand on Ronon’s chest like he was going to feed.”

A chill went down Rodney’s spine, despite his cocoon of warm, fluffy blankets. “You don’t think it was a reflex?”

“It didn’t seem like it,” Sheppard remarked tensely, biting his lip.

“He’s still taking the retrovirus, right?”

“Hasn’t missed a shot.”

“Why did you come here? Are you trying to get us all killed? You need to tell Elizabeth right away.”

“I guess,” Sheppard said. He didn’t move. Rodney cleared his throat pointedly, and Sheppard sighed. “She’s going to yell at me.”

“Well, you reap what you sow, or however it goes,” Rodney said, delighted that Mark the Leech would soon be out of his hair — or rather Sheppard’s thick, luxurious hair — and on his way to Wraith Heaven.

Sheppard made a face. “It could’ve been a ref–”

“Colonel Sheppard,” Rodney snapped.

“Fine,” Sheppard huffed.

“If she makes you cry, don’t come back here,” Rodney called to his retreating back. Sheppard flipped him off, and when the doors shut, Rodney settled down to victoriously watch an episode of MacGyver.

*

John tapped on the window to Elizabeth’s office. She looked up from her work and waved him in.

“Hey, you busy?” he asked casually.

She set her tablet aside. “No, just finishing up some thing. Pull up a chair.”

“We need to have a discussion about Mark Messier,” he said, sitting.

“Yes, we do,” Elizabeth agreed. She smiled at him in such a trusting way. It made him uncomfortable. He smiled back as best he could. “How are you coping, John?”

“Uh, I’m good,” he said. “That’s not really–”

“To be honest,” she continued in an apologetic tone, “I was afraid your insistance about taking in Mr Messier was the result of the feeding, but you’ve been handling things very well. I know you said you had a mental connection, so it must’ve been hard for you to be objective, especially with all of us suggesting you do away with him.”

John slouched lower in his seat. “Yeah, objective.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were bright. “Carson’s very pleased his experiment worked this time around. And frankly, so am I. This brings us one step closer to stopping the Wraith.” She folded her hands together. “Now, did you have something specific you wanted to talk about?”

“Sometimes Mark kinda creeps me out,” John said, feeling like a jerk.

“John,” Elizabeth exclaimed, “I’m surprised. I didn’t expect you, of all people, to be xenophobic. Besides, Mr Messier is very nice. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t put my finger on who.”

“Me?” John asked.

“No, that’s not right.” She shook her head. “I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually.”

*

Mark kept his word. John caught him limping out of the gym not a day later. He had a huge grin on his face, and he was covered in sweat. His damp, blond hair was flopping over his forehead in a way John’s hair would never be able to imitate. Sergeant Edison and Sergeant Billick were exchanging amused grins.

“John, you seriously do this every day?” Mark asked. “I may have amnesia, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never been beaten that badly in my entire life.”

“Well, I don’t do it every day,” John admitted, smirking. He rolled his shoulders. “But once you learn how to handle a stick, it’s a piece of cake.”

After Teyla finished beating the crap out of him, John hobbled over to the bench under the windows and flopped down.

“So what do you think of him?” he asked, stretching a hand towards the towel in his bag, in an attempt to clean off without moving his bruised body. When he couldn’t reach it, he gave up. Teyla didn’t mind if he was sweaty and gross. She’d seen him worse off. She’d seen him with a beard.

Teyla coolly raised an eyebrow. “Think of whom?”

“Mark.”

She cocked her head thoughtfully. “He is a lot like you, only more…” She paused, setting her sticks down on the bench, and tossed him his towel. “More open. He is very easy to like.”

John wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. Was Teyla saying he wasn’t easy to like? Although he was definitely feeling the first twinges of guilt. “Sorry I haven’t been spending more time with you. I’ve been busy.”

Her mouth curved into a smile. “I know. You feel responsible for Mark’s well-being. But I must admit, it has been very quiet around here lately.”

John’s stomach grumbled embarrassingly loudly. He was so tired of being hungry all the time. He’d kill for something disgusting and greasy that would fill him up and make him never want to eat again. If only there was a Pegasus version of Del Taco.

“I suddenly have the desire for a grilled cheese sandwich,” Teyla said with a puzzled expression.

“It’s like you read my mind,” said John, smirking at his own hilarity.

“And also,” Teyla continued as they headed for the commissary, “I would like a magazine with pictures of women in various stages of undress. Or perhaps Rodney working with long, cylindrical tools.”

*

The denizens of Atlantis were lucky Rodney was around when transporter five broke. Typically, he’d be offworld at that part of the week, being shot at or fed weird things or mocked, sometimes all at the same time.

Unfortunately, repairing the transporters involved holding up a very large, heavy panel which covered the crystal casing. Rodney had always assumed the Ancients had created some sort of device that would keep the panels up, but he’d never been able to find it. Knowing this, he enlisted the help of Ronon, who was a giant, and Lieutenant Miller, who’d been there to help with the satellites in the Wraith siege and was not completely incompetent. He would’ve asked Teyla, but he’d caught her braiding Lieutenant Cadman’s hair in one of the lounges, and he’d been in no mood to put up with Cadman’s Wraith jokes.

“Here, hold this,” he said as he ducked into the shaft, letting go of the screwdriver he’d used to pry the panel open. He didn’t bother to check if Miller had caught it, but he didn’t hear a clatter, so he assumed everything was okay. Two of the crystals were definitely cracked. He’d have to switch some around to get the transporter working again.

“This is kind of heavy,” Ronon said breathlessly.

“As long as you don’t drop it on my head, it’ll be fine,” Rodney said.

“Here comes the Wraith,” muttered Miller.

Rodney banged his forehead on the panel scurrying out to discreetly get a glimpse. Sure enough, both Mark and Sheppard were strutting down the corridor. Well, Sheppard was strutting; Mark was bouncing. They stopped at one of the long windows, and Sheppard pointed at something outside, talking too quietly for Rodney to hear.

Mark looked over his shoulder, directly at Rodney and then — much to Rodney’s horror — curved his big, pale Wraith hand over Sheppard’s narrow but disturbingly muscular shoulder.

“Do you see that?” Rodney hissed. He clenched his fingers painfully around the crystal. He wondered if the pointed end was sharp to stab someone. “He’s touching Colonel Sheppard inappropriately!”

Ronon glanced over. “You mean on the shoulder?”

Rodney gestured frantically. “And Sheppard’s just letting him.”

“Maybe he likes it,” Ronon said, smirking. Rodney got the distinct impression Ronon was fucking with him. “Maybe he likes the shoulder touching.”

“Everyone thinks it’s weird Colonel Sheppard spends so much time with it,” Miller said. “Bobby Edison and Jeff Billick said the Colonel barely lets it out of his sight.”

“Sheppard’s trying to keep the Wraith from realizing he’s not supposed to be here,” Rodney said defensively. “Which, by the way, geniuses, is not going to work if everyone continues to treats the Wraith like– like he’s a Wraith.”

Ronon looked perturbed. “You think it might figure out what’s going on just from that?”

“Lieutenant Kenmore told Dr Heightmeyer he’d realized something was wrong by the way people were treating him.”

“Shut up, they’re coming this way,” Miller said under his breath.

Rodney knelt and started digging through his toolbox when Sheppard and Mark headed in their direction. Sheppard was talking about something involving planes and G’s and manoeuvres, and he didn’t even look at Rodney as he walked past.

*

John spent a lot of time trying to keep Mark and Ronon from interacting again, until one day he walked into the central spire common room and found them sitting on a couch together, talking about food.

“Hey, guys,” he said slowly.

“Hey, John,” Mark said brightly.

Ronon shuffled his feet. “Hey.”

John tried to glare menacingly, but it probably failed. “Didn’t I tell you two to stay apart?”

“No, you told us not to fight,” Mark said. “We made up.”

“He’s not so bad,” Ronon replied, shrugging.

John’s head pounded. “I need someone to knock me unconscious,” he said murmured.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t sleep well that night, or the next few. Fortunately, he and Elizabeth — well, more like Elizabeth — had decided to put the team on stand-down for the next few weeks, until they could be sure Mark wasn’t going to try to kill them all. John nursed his insomnia, Ronon beat up the Marines, Teyla did… Teyla things, and Rodney locked himself in his lab.

On one of those nights, he found himself wandering the corridors, trying to tire himself enough so he’d just pass out. He wasn’t paying much attention to where he was going until he heard a familiar voice ask, “Yes, Colonel?”

John blinked a few times, pushing through his mental fog. Rodney was looking at him expectantly as John realized he had unconsciously walked to the labs.

“You know,” he said, “all this late-night work points to some very disturbing vampire tendencies.”

Rodney waved a hand. He looked as tired as John felt. “I’m working on something very complicated and important right now. I’ll sleep later.”

John pulled an empty stool up to the bench.

Rodney glanced up at him. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks, McKay,” John growled. He rubbed his dry, stinging eyes. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. You know, with my personality being swapped with a Wraith’s?”

Rodney raised his chin. “Well, excuse me for caring. What if something goes wrong and you’re out of commission? This is my life we’re talking about here.”

“I’ll try not to let my nightmares get in the way of your Nobel Prize.”

Rodney studied him for a long moment. “Are you still having the same dream you were weeks ago? The one that was freaking you out and yet you felt no need to share?”

“Yeah,” John said quietly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go into it.

“Oh.” Rodney shifted. “I’ve been told — by psychiatrists, of course, so take this with a grain of salt — dreams are the mind’s way of working out a problem. So it’s, ah, probably related to the trauma of being tortured.”

“No, really?” John said sarcastically. He slouched against the bench. The click-clack of Rodney’s typing was soothing. “You know, before this whole Wraith brain sucking thing, I hardly ever had nightmares.”

“You don’t have nightmares,” Rodney repeated, like he didn’t believe it. “What the hell are you dreaming about then?”

A good portion of John’s dreams involved Rodney. There was this recurring one where all Rodney did was order him around. It was the hottest, filthiest dream he’d had since his late teens, and in it, Rodney didn’t even touch him.

“Planes,” John said.

Rodney narrowed his eyes at him. “I see. Well, as the apparently most well-adjusted person in Atlantis, I congratulate you.”

They both fell quiet as Rodney took the time to briskly enter something on his keyboard, sneaking glances at John when he thought John wasn’t looking. He paused every so often to huff. John waited for it.

Finally: “You probably shouldn’t be spending so much time with the Wraith,” Rodney said, not looking him in the eye.

John bristled. “Mark’s not the problem.”

It wasn’t Mark’s fault John’s side of the mind meld hadn’t gone as smoothly as his. Mark was having fun jumping off piers and trying to convince some of the extremely apprehensive Marines to start a football team; John was still tired, hungry, and moody. And someone — John strongly suspected it was Ronon, who had the worst taste in music next to Elizabeth — had introduced Mark to pop music. If he had to hear that 98 Degrees song about being invisible one more time, he was going to hurt someone.

Mark had never been to Earth, but he’d never been on any missions, either. In some ways, they couldn’t relate at all. Just like John’s real brother.

John hadn’t gotten any more hints something was wrong since that day in the corridor, and he was starting to believe it had all been in his head. Teyla didn’t think anything was wrong with Mark. Ronon didn’t think anything was wrong with Mark. Neither Edison nor Billick had reported any funny business. Maybe paranoia was just one more Wraith trait he’d taken on.

*

The Ancient archives were held in one of the outer towers, with high, vaulted ceilings and serene blue walls. John had only been there once, with Elizabeth, who had promptly dug herself deep into a journal and had forgotten all about him. Evidently, while working in the SGC, Rodney had heard the Ancients were known to leave behind hard copies of texts; he told John this repeatedly, but John had found everything in Atlantis was kept in an electronic database. One could access this database from anywhere in the city — if one knew how to read Ancient, of course. The only thing John could read were numbers and the words “Atlantis,” which sucked on multiple levels; Rodney swore there was erotic literature floating around in there.

The archives were, essentially, a rounded room with line of computer terminals running down the middle. Everything was in that colourful, clunky Ancient style. It wasn’t like a library at all. It lacked that musty book smell or that heavy feeling of silence. It also didn’t have much privacy.

“Hello, hello,” a gaunt woman with heavy glasses greeted John the second he stepped through the doors. She had a thick European accent. “I am Dr Bohl. Do you require assistance?”

John blinked. Last time he’d been here it had been in their first year, and they hadn’t had any linguists working solely in the archives. “Uh, yeah. I’m looking for some information on the Wraith.”

Bohl smiled thinly. “You and everyone else.” She crooked her finger, and John followed her to the computers. “We have only translated a small percentage of the material, so you will not be in much luck.”

John took the nearest seat. The keyboard was in Ancient, which was kind of cool. “Is there anything in here about Wraith giving back someone’s life?” he asked, cringing at the way his voice echoed in the room.

She studied him for a long second. He got the impression she had no idea who he was. Then, unexpectedly, she leaned right over him and began typing. She smelled like mothballs. John had horrible flashbacks of his grandmother. He tried not to make any sudden moves.

“I’m doing a search for ‘Wraith’ and ‘reversal,’ and any similar words,” she said, typing away. “Ah, yes. There is one document.”

It popped up on the screen. It was short and completely in Ancient.

“How soon can you translate this?” John asked.

“It may take a few hours,” she said uncertainly.

“It’s really important,” he said, using the pout that had always worked on Grandma Sheppard.

That evening, right as he was getting ready for bed, his email dinged. “I could not translate the whole file, but I have done my best,” the email read. It was signed, “Dr M Bohl, PhD.”

He wiped his palms on his pants and hit the scroll button.

#7539 P2 076 Project Summary

Subjects H2213 and H2214 were both [literal translation: absorbed] by Subject W106. Subject H2213 was [fed off of] during a course of two weeks. H2214 was emptied within two days. See Documents #7539 P2 067 through #7539 P2 072.

Both Subjects H2213 and H2214 had their [life force] restored to them via W106’s feeding gland. H2213’s [life force] was restored during a period of twenty-four hours. H2214’s [life force] was restored to full capacity immediately. See Document #7539 P2 073; Document #6201 P2 998 for previous experiments with life regeneration.

Subjects H2214 and W106 in experiment began exhibiting similar behaviour patterns after forty-eight hours. Subject H2214 complained of hunger [unknown]. He became irritable and prone to fits of anger and irrationality. Subject W106 became calm and [unknown]. After fifty-six hours, W106 requested drawing materials. Note H2214 had been an architect prior to the experiment. Subject H2213 showed no change. After sixty hours, W106 began attempting the communicate with others. H2213 became more withdrawn. See Document #7539 P2 074.

Subject H2214 suffered from no significant brain [unknown] changes after the [life force] was restored. His vital statistics returned to what they were before the [feeding]. However, during dissection

“Whoa,” John said out loud. Apparently, the Ancients had Mengelian ethics. He had a terrifying mental image of himself on an operating table, Carson standing over him with a rib spreader in one hand and an electric saw in the other. John had seen plenty of CSI in his time.

the tissue of the [amygdala] showed abnormalities in both subjects. See Document #7539 P2 075.

It is the conclusion of [those performing the experiment] Subjects W106 and H2213 exchanged [unknown] during the [life force] restoration. Since it was previously concluded [unknown] is the [unknown] which allows those of the W class to form telepathic [unknown] with those they [absorb], it is probable [unknown] goes both ways during the [life force] restoration. The physical changes in the [amygdala], as well as the changes in behaviour support this theory. See Documents #7131 P2 024, #7131 P2 026, #7277 P2 010, #7481 P2 053 for previous experiments with [unknown].

End document.

“Well, crap,” he said to himself. He had definitive proof something had happened to him, but it left him with more questions than answers. The test subjects had exchanged what? DNA? Phone numbers? Beauty tips? John slammed his laptop case closed in frustration.

*

Michael’s quarters had been more of an observation room than a real living space. Dr Heightmeyer suggested this time around, it would probably be a better idea to keep Mark from wondering why he was being kept separate from everyone else. John had been fine with this; he’d had a hard enough time convincing Mark the guards were for his own safety. He’d had to make up a story about everyone being worried Mark would hit his head again.

“Why don’t you have an escort?” Mark had asked with a scowl. “You fall all the time.”

“Because I’m a lieutenant colonel,” John had said, crossing his arms over his chest, “and lieutenant colonels don’t need people to keep them from falling.”

He would’ve liked to tell someone Mark had sucked out his cool with his evil Wraith hands, but he had a feeling no one would believe him.

Then Mark had asked, “Do I have a rank? Am I in the army on my planet– what’d you say it was called? Melmac?” and John had to get out of that conversation as quickly as possible.

When John thought their friendship had advanced to the point where John could introduce him to Star Wars — original trilogy only, of course — he was disappointed to find Mark not answering his door chime. He was worried, however, when he realized Mark’s guards weren’t anywhere in the immediate vicinity either.

“Edison, Billick, this is Sheppard,” he said into his radio. “Why aren’t you at your post?”

It was a solid fifteen seconds before he received an answer. “Mr Messier needed some privacy, sir,” Billick said.

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, maybe you should ask him, sir.”

“I would, but he’s not answering his door,” John hissed.

Just then, Mark’s door whispered open, and Teyla walked out in a very obvious attempt to look casual. Her hair was wet. She was wearing that low-cut black top he and Rodney had agreed was their favourite.

“Nevermind,” he said. He turned his radio off. “Teyla?”

She plastered a very fake smile on her face. “Hello, John. What are you doing here?”

He held up his DVDs. “I wanted to see if Mark wanted to watch a movie. What are you doing here?”

“Mark and I were also watching a movie.”

“Which one?” John asked suspiciously.

“I have forgotten the name,” she said. “You know I do not pay attention to these things. It was about sports and overcoming hardships.”

For a second, he had the crazy idea she’d murdered Mark in cold blood and had taken a shower to wash away all the evidence, but then he saw the hickey on her neck. He gaped.

“You know he used to be a–” He glanced at Mark’s door; the last thing they needed was for Mark to wander out right about now. He lowered his voice. “Used to be a Wraith, right?”

“I know what he is, yes,” she said, beginning to sound irritated.

He stared. “Did you sleep with Michael too?”

Her gaze wandered over his shoulder. “No,” she said.

She was totally lying. “Before or after he became a Wraith again?”

“I am an adult, I may take companionship in whomever I please,” she said stiffly.

“Eww,” John said in revulsion. His mind flashed to Teyla and a half-turned Michael sucking each other’s faces off. It was worse than all those times he’d walked in on his parents having sex, or that time he’d caught his dad and the babysitter on the kitchen table.

Teyla glared. “You have had relations with non-humans before. I did not say ‘ew’ when you slept with Chaya.” She bit her lip. “No, that is untrue. I did say that, but not to your face.”

He would’ve found that more insulting if he hadn’t said that to himself, later. The sharing had been cool, but there had been glowing tentacles involved, in places he’d tried hard not to think about. “I can’t believe you slept with my brother,” he said.

“What?” Teyla asked, looking startled.

“I’m kidding– Mark said after he gave me back my– you know what, nevermind.” He put his hands on his hips in an attempt to regain his dignity. “It’s still gross. Why can’t you find a nice human boyfriend? Maybe Lorne. Or Zelenka. Ronon likes you.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What about Rodney?”

“You can sleep with Rodney,” he said, in a tone he hoped didn’t convey what he really wanted to say: “Sleep with Rodney and I’ll beat you with your beating sticks.”

“It is difficult for me to relate to many of the people in Atlantis,” Teyla said slowly. It was the same voice she had used when she’d told him she’d always felt like an outsider.

“But you relate to people who used to be Wraiths,” John stated.

She raised her chin. “I am aware that may seem unusual.”

“No, no– okay, yeah,” John said.

*

Rodney didn’t look up from his laptop when the doors slid open. He could tell by the sound of large, slow-moving boots it was Sheppard coming to distract him, but he was right in the middle of a rather fascinating article recently translated from the Ancient database on subspace energy waves, and he was not in the mood to–

“My two best friends are sleeping together,” Sheppard announced, coming to a stop in front of Rodney’s lab bench.

Rodney looked up in surprise. “I’m not sleeping with anyone.”

Sheppard squinted. “I meant Mark and Teyla.”

That stung. “Hello, I’m sitting right here,” he snapped. “Wait, she’s sleeping with the Wraith?”

“Yeah.” Sheppard’s nose wrinkled. “Is it just me, or is that kind of disgusting?”

“It really is,” Rodney agreed. “I’d been hoping she was a lesbian, you know, like a whole Xena-and-Gabrielle thing? Gabrielle was a blonde, wasn’t she? With short hair later on,” he added thoughtfully. What a nice mental image. “Maybe next time Colonel Carter comes to Atlantis we can–”

“Rodney,” Sheppard said. He sounded annoyed. “This really isn’t the time to talk about your fantasies.”

“Well, I was going to invite you to the group sex, but you can forget about it now,” Rodney sniffed.

*

Part Three: Saved By the Wraith

The day everything went to hell, Mark managed to convince Corporal Sherman to hand over his foosball table. John wasn’t entirely sure if Sherman had let them borrow it because he, like many of the other officers, was terrified of Mark, or if it was because Mark had made a convincing argument. Either way, John hadn’t played foosball in years, and Mark’s bright enthusiasm was kind of funny. John ordered Edison and Billick stand outside so they wouldn’t hear his manly ribbing. It would be embarrassing when he made Mark cry like a little bitch.

He hit the ball into the goal for the fifth time in a row. “He shoots, he scores!”

“You’ll pay for that,” Mark warned with a determined expression.

John lined the soccer ball in the centre of the table, then grasped the rods on his side tightly. His palms were sweating. Mark’s eyes narrowed in concentration. There was no way John was losing.

Miss it, John thought as he twisted the bar.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. As John thought, Miss, again, as hard as he could, Mark’s hand slipped on the rod. The ball sailed right past his players and into the goal.

Mark’s head snapped up, eyes angry. “You jerk, taunting the other player has to be against the rules!”

John froze. Mark’s expression went blank. The soccer ball loudly rolled from the goal into the gutter.

“Did you read my mind?” John asked in disbelief.

“What a ridiculous question,” Mark said, eyes widening exaggeratingly.

“Yes, you did,” John said with a growing horror.

About a dozen emotions crossed Mark’s face before settling on defeat. His shoulders slumped. “I guess it’s time to come clean.”

John stabbed a finger at him. “I knew there was something going on.” He’d been right to be suspicious. That meant Mark’s transition wasn’t completely perfect, that John wasn’t the only one with lingering side-effects. Maybe Mark was having nightmares. Maybe Mark was longingly remembering all the things he used to like and slowly starving to death.

Of course, it also meant John had probably doomed the entire city. Which was bad. Very bad.

“I tried to hide it from you,” Mark said. He took a step back from the table with a miserable look on his face.

“So all this time you’ve been faking it?” John felt a deep, resounding disappointment. This was just as bad as when Rodney had taken Lucius’s potion and used it to make John clean his room. He’d never forget the bowl of moulded-over Kraft Dinner hiding under the bed; another week, and it would’ve been able to talk to him. “The amnesia? Wanting to be my friend? Not being evil?”

Mark looked stricken. “No! I like it here. I like you, and Teyla, and Ronon, and– okay, everyone else treats me like crap, but you guys are great. I’ve been so alone these past few years. You don’t know what it was like in there, all those years of just myself, the stone walls, and the velts.”

“Velts?” John asked.

“Rodents with claws and glowing red eyes. They like to nibble.”

John was vaguely disturbed. “I must’ve missed those. What with the whole you feeding off me thing.”

“John,” Mark said, sounding frustrated, “I thought we’d moved past that.”

“Just out of curiosity, how much of my mind have you read?” John asked, wincing to himself.

“Not that much; usually it’s just feelings, unless you’re projecting a thought really loudly. I know you have nightmares, because at night, you get really scared. Most of the time it’s like you’re barely there.” He scratched his chin. “Oh, and you have some pretty filthy thoughts about Dr McKay.”

Next time, Rodney got to be the one with the alien brain link. The Wraith would probably kill itself just to get away.

Mark threw a look over his shoulder at the door. He lowered his voice a fraction. “Listen, it’s actually a good thing this happened. We need to talk. I need your help.”

“I don’t think so,” John said.

Mark looked shocked. “You don’t understand,” he pleaded, “there’s a hive ship about three weeks from here,” and John’s stomach dropped.

“You are so dead,” John said roughly. “You were supposed to be my friend. You said I was your brother. God, I’m such an idiot! Don’t trust the Wraith, they said. He’s going to turn out just like Michael, they said.”

“Michael?” Mark demanded. “How many other Wraith have you– have you had?”

“About a hundred,” John replied. “Maybe two? There were a lot of Wraiths on that hive ship.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed.

“Anyway, you don’t have the right to be upset,” said John, waving a finger at him. “Since your friends are coming to kill us.”

Shaking his head frantically, Mark protested, “No, no, that’s what I’m trying to say. Right now all they know is a Wraith’s in the general area. But if they get close enough, they’ll be able to connect with me, and they’ll come straight for the city. I know you guys don’t have a shield right now. I’ve heard the scientists talking.”

John stared. “You want–”

“You need to get me out of Atlantis,” Mark said grimly.

*

“Rodney, what are you doing?”

Rodney barely managed to not jump at the sound of the familiar voice. The last thing the city needed right now was for him to get a head injury. “I like sticking my face in consoles in my free time. It reminds me of the womb. What does it look like I’m doing, Colonel?”

Sheppard’s knees appeared in Rodney’s field of vision as he crouched down. “It looks like you’re avoiding the labs.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I love the labs. They’re very sterile and full of things I enjoy, like computers. And there is a distinct lack of Wraith in them. Oh wait.”

Sheppard muttered something nasty he couldn’t hear. It was just as well. Rodney would never admit it, but he was bored. He could only stand to be around the idiots in the lab for so long, and while he had a million and a half projects to research, reconstruct, or relegate to people less intelligent than himself, it wasn’t the same as going offworld. Zelenka, he had found, was actually very condescending, and Elizabeth called entirely too many meetings. Rodney had been ruined for life, no thanks to Sheppard and his touchy-feely team dynamics.

When Rodney crawled out from under the console — his back was going to kill him in the morning — Sheppard said, “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?” he asked, his gut clenching. Sheppard seemed shifty. “What is it?”

Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck. “I sort of… fucked up.”

Rodney sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “How badly?”

“Pretty badly.” Sheppard grimaced. “It’s about Mark.”

“Oh,” Rodney replied flatly. “Mark. Of course. What did your precious Mark do?” A horrible thought occurred to him. “Or what did you do with him?”

Sheppard glared for a moment, then dropped his gaze. “He doesn’t really have amnesia. He remembers everything from being a Wraith.”

Stunned, Rodney sputtered, “He– but Carson said–” Somewhere beneath the panic was smug arrogance, and somewhere beneath that was outrage. “Yes, Colonel, I would call that a fuck up. Did I not tell you it was a train wreck? No, you said you had everything under control.”

Sheppard had the gall to look offended. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Any brilliant ideas?”

He had to be joking. “You could try, I don’t know, killing him?”

“But I don’t want to kill him,” Sheppard whined.

“Oh, I’m sorry, let me think of some other way to get rid of the Wraith without it resulting in our deaths,” he snapped. Carson had been wrong about the Wraith not affecting Sheppard’s brain chemistry; clearly the man was a lunatic. Or maybe this was the result of the combination of nightmares and insomnia. “Am I the only one you’ve told about this? While you’re down here talking to me, where is he?”

“With his security guards, how stupid do you think I am?” Sheppard retorted.

Rodney began, “Aren’t you going to–?”

“I’m not telling Elizabeth yet,” Sheppard said, anticipating what Rodney was going to say with disturbing accuracy. He put his hands on his hips, but his eyebrows were doing that funny thing they did when he was upset. “If I tell Elizabeth, she’ll try to be the good guy, and I’ll be the one enforcing the hard decisions. I’d really rather not have to end things that way.”

“How is it going to end then?” Rodney asked.

Sheppard bit his lip. “Mark wants me to get him off the city. He says he can go back to eating animals in the wild.”

Much to Rodney’s own surprise, he was shocked at Sheppard’s stupidity. “Or he can go back to his hive with information on Atlantis.”

“He said he won’t.”

“And you believe him?”

Sheppard squared his shoulders. “Yeah, I do. He doesn’t really seem the evil type. I don’t think he has it in him.”

“You mean you don’t think you have it in you,” Rodney said wisely. Then he realized how obscene that sounded. “And by ‘it,’ I mean the conscience exchanged by that terrible, awful mind melding, because I know you’re not really putting ‘it’ in you. You’re not, right? Tell me you’re not.”

Sheppard’s head went back a little. “I’m going to ignore that and pretend I understood most of the words coming out of your mouth. Come on, aren’t you always telling me I need your vastly superior knowledge? Well, this time I do. I’m asking you as a friend.”

Rodney hated himself for the warm glow that went through him. This was so going to end badly, but Sheppard was pouting and looking all handsome, and in the end, Rodney was only human. Besides, if he said no, Sheppard would only keep whining. “Fine,” he said angrily, “I’ll come up with something to get Marky Mark out of the city without giving away his secret.”

“You’re a pal, McKay,” Sheppard said, slapping Rodney on the back. He gave Rodney the goofy, sincere smile Rodney usually only saw when they were talking about spaceships or super weapons.

“Yes, yes, I’m a saint,” Rodney agreed. He felt disappointed for no discernable reason. “You do realize Teyla’s going to be mad you’ve gotten rid of yet another one of her boyfriends.”

“Maybe if she stopped sleeping with Wraith, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Sheppard said.

*

“Okay,” Rodney said, “here’s the plan. We — by which I mean I — cause a diversion in the gateroom — by which I mean explosion — and dial the stargate, sending Mark to a random planet halfway across the galaxy. We then inform Elizabeth and the others he died trying to save the city.”

Sheppard’s eyes narrowed. “What are the chances Mark will ‘accidentally’ get killed in this explosion?”

Rodney hesitated. “Slim. Unlikely. Not entirely implausible. Two to one?”

“Well, think of something else,” Sheppard said sternly.

Rodney didn’t exacxtly understand what Sheppard’s deal about refusing to kill Mark. So they’d been friends. The man was also a liar, and his very existence was endangering their lives. It didn’t take someone of Rodney’s stellar intelligence to figure out what to do with him. Of course, Sheppard hadn’t wanted to kill Michael Kenmore either, until it had been a last resort. Kenmore had saved their lives too, now that he thought about it. As often as Rodney didn’t understand Sheppard, he didn’t get Wraith at all.

There was one thing Rodney accepted, at least, and that was that Sheppard was moping around like his puppy had been hit by a car. While Rodney plotted, Sheppard lounged around and sighed. When Mark came anywhere near the two of them, Sheppard acted like a broken-hearted teenager. It was disgusting.

Rodney snapped two days after Sheppard had asked for help.

Ronon, Sheppard, and Rodney were in the commissary eating lunch. Teyla was across the room pretending not to flirt with Lorne and a table full of Marines. Rodney was in the middle of a great story about how he had showed up both Zelenka and Kavanagh when he realized he might as well be talking to himself. He was used to Ronon pretending he didn’t exist — although he was waiting for the day Ronon would learn Rodney was his best chance of survival — but Sheppard was picking at his food morosely and not paying attention at all, and Rodney knew Sheppard was thinking about Mark. He was filled with hate.

“So then I said– Hey, are you listening to me?” He snapped his fingers in front of Sheppard’s nose.

Sheppard raised his head, looking irritated. “What? Stop that.”

“You know,” Rodney said brilliantly, “Mark was probably born without a penis.”

Ronon made a choking noise. Sheppard’s eyes went wide. “Huh?”

“I’m just saying. Have you ever seen a Wraith naked? Their reproductive systems are probably completely different from ours. We don’t even know how they reproduce.”

“Jesus, Rodney, I’m sure he has a penis,” Sheppard said, scrunching up his face thoughtfully.

“But you don’t know for sure,” Rodney said triumphantly.

Sheppard threw down his napkin. He stood and picked up his tray. “We are not talking about this,” he huffed, stomping away.

“Great, he’s probably going to go look at Mark’s dick, just to make sure he has one.” Rodney stabbed his potatoes with his fork. “I hate Mark’s stupid Wraith face.”

“Sheppard still likes you more,” Ronon said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” Rodney said incredulously. “Don’t you have any tact at all? Besides, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I know Sheppard likes me best; in addition to my many fine qualities, I happen to be human, unlike the Wraith. Who is a Wraith.”

Ronon chewed slowly. “Okay.”

He found Sheppard in the jumper bay, brutally punching commands into the console with his pointer fingers. His expression was stormy. Rodney almost turned around and left, but he remembered what Jeannie had said about being an asshole and cleared his throat. “Hi, um. Are you– are you okay?”

Sheppard gave him a sideways glance. “I’m cool.”

Rodney sat in the co-pilot’s seat. “Sorry for what I said. About the Wraith penis, or lack thereof, rather. You haven’t seen him naked, have you? No, no, I don’t know want to know. Forget I asked. Look, if you’re so worried about him betraying us, why don’t you–?”

“He can read my mind,” Sheppard said abruptly. Rodney’s mouth closed with a snap. “I don’t like it.”

“Is it because of your–?” Rodney gestured towards Sheppard’s pointy head. There was no way he was going to say “psychic connection” out loud.

Sheppard nodded. “Teyla can read my mind too, but not like Mark can.”

Rodney stared. “Teyla can read your mind?”

He grimaced. “Yeah, but don’t tell her. She doesn’t know.”

“How can she not know she’s linked to you telepathically?” Rodney asked quizzically. “Hey, is that why she crimped her hair? I thought that was a little odd.”

“I haven’t been hanging out with her a lot lately,” Sheppard said, studying the console intently. “The Wraith fetish freaks me out.”

Something occurred to Rodney. “Wasn’t she flirting with Major Lorne in the commissary just a moment ago?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sheppard said flatly.

*

That night, John dreamed Mark ate the entire Athosian village during a football game, while John was saying, “We can’t go now, we’re only up fourteen points.” Rodney had to fly the jumper back to Atlantis because John was injured and covered in blood. The Elizabeth in his dream asked him, “You didn’t come home on time and your new friend ate a village, because you were playing football?”

John woke up in a sweat. His clock said it was too early to get up and work, so he threw on his track pants to see if he could catch Ronon before he started his workout. What he needed was a nice, long run. Only when he arrived at the catwalk where Ronon usually began his trek, Mark was there too. John could hear their voices as he got closer.

“I can teach you how to play football,” Mark was saying.

“Really?” Ronon said. “Sheppard’s never offered to teach me.”

“John’s a wonderful person burdened with the many, many responsibilities of being commander, I’m sure he was just busy,” Mark said.

Ronon snorted. “Yeah, if his responsibilities include goofing off with McKay. They go ‘gate hunting.’” John didn’t like that he could hear the quotation marks around “gate hunting”; obviously Ronon was the one spending too much time with Rodney. So what if sometimes they told everyone they were going gate hunting when they were actually going surfing on planets with great waves? Or, in Rodney’s case, reading under umbrellas.

“McKay,” Mark said in a weird voice.

John remembered with a start that Mark had been inside his head, and he took off running in the opposite direction. He ran until his mind was blank and all he could hear was his own breathing ringing in his ears. When he got back to his room, knees shaking with exhaustion, he took a look in the mirror, thought his pale, damp skin made him look hot, considered bleaching his hair and growing it long, and then freaked out and jogged directly to Rodney’s room.

“Colonel, I was just working on our little plan,” Rodney said as he entered, not looking at him.

“What’s up?” he asked.

He sat on Rodney’s bed, peering over Rodney’s shoulder to see what he was doing. Much to his disappointment, Rodney was looking through schematics of the city on his laptop; part of John had been hoping Rodney was building something, so he’d have something to jerk off to during his shower. At least schematics meant Rodney was working on a plan. John had every faith he’d come up with something. After all, Rodney worked best when his own life was at stake.

John laid back on the bed, trying to cool off. The vents hummed as chilled air was pumped into the room. At least Atlantis loved him. “You’re getting your sweat all over my covers,” Rodney said, sounding disgusted.

“I’ll wash your sheets for you later,” John said.

When he sat back up, Rodney was giving him the fish eye.

Awkwardly, John asked, “Hey, uh, can I ask you something? Saving Mark… it’s something I would’ve done before, right? Before the mind-melding?”

Rodney’s mouth thinned. “Oh yeah, this is just like you, doing something reckless to save people who don’t deserve it.”

“I guess I’m just worried about how much of this is me and how much is him.”

Rodney wheeled his chair over and got right up in his face. “Do you have the urges to suck the life out of anyone? Are you pissed off all the time? Is he making you do his evil bidding? Do you want to dress like you’re in The Matrix? Feel like screaming high pitched into the sky at random?”

“No,” John said, making himself lean back. He was being honest, except for the part about dressing like Neo. He always wanted to dress like Neo.

“Then you’re fine,” Rodney said dismissively.

John watched him silently for a few minutes, waiting for McKay’s typical under-handed sympathy, or at least another lecture, but Rodney moved his laptop closer to his face and started muttering to himself about ventilation shafts. John gave up and left.

When he hunted Mark down, he was sitting on the pier where they usually played golf, watching the sunset.

“I’m really going to miss it here,” Mark said sadly.

“Maybe we can find you a planet with some nice beaches,” John said. He plunked down next to Mark, but avoided soaking his feet in the ocean. “I need to ask you some questions.”

Mark gave him a half-smile. “I was wondering how long it’d take before you start.”

“Do you know why the retrovirus didn’t work the way it was supposed to?” John asked.

Mark ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about that too. Maybe because I– I was already changing when I’d been given the retrovirus. Because I gave your life back to you. When I woke up, Dr Beckett and Dr Weir told me my name was Mark and I’d been in an accident. If I hadn’t gone along with it, who knows what would have happened to me.”

“Yeah,” John said seriously, “we would’ve probably had to kill you.”

Mark cupped the back of John’s neck, smiling sweetly. “And then we never would’ve gotten to know each other.”

When Mark didn’t remove his hand after a beat, John said, “I’m pretty sure we talked about personal space a while back.”

“John,” Mark said without moving away, his voice soft and full of something John couldn’t make out, “Between your eating disorder and your compulsion to act macho all the time, I know you have some self-esteem issues, and that’s probably why you’re into guys less attractive than you –”

“What?” John cut in. Rodney was totally hot. He knew he shouldn’t have let Mark talk to Heightmeyer.

“–But you’re very special to me, and I know you feel what I feel.”

“Right now I mostly feel uncomfortable,” John said.

Mark tugged him forward. Their lips brushed gently and it was kind of nice, if John completely forgot who the hell it was he was kissing. John exclaimed, “Whoa, whoa, what’s going on here?”

Mark pulled back with a frustrated expression on his face. “I love you, John Sheppard. I did all this to get closer you. Why do you think I’ve spent so much time getting to know your friends?”

“Even sleeping with Teyla?” John asked, not impressed the way his voice squeaked on the last syllable.

“No, that was because she’s hot,” Mark replied.

“She thinks you guys have a thing,” John said, offended on her behalf.

He took John’s hands in his. “My bond with Teyla could never be as strong as my bond with you.”

“You’re a Wraith,” John said.

“Why does it keep coming back to that?” Mark protested. “I keep thinking we’re moving forward, and then there we are, two steps back. You’re so focused on me being a Wraith, you’re skipping the part where I told you I loved you. We need to be open about these things if we’re going to have a future together.”

John snatched his hands back, suddenly really, amazingly angry. He didn’t need this. Mark had been deceiving him about having amnesia, about being his friend, from the very start, and now he was supposed to believe the guy was in love with him? Wasn’t it enough John was risking his neck to get Mark to safety? “You don’t love me,” he said. “You’re just saying this because I’m helping you. The minute my back’s turned, you’ll go back to stealing my friends and being the prom king and running away to baseball camp. Dad always loved you the best, Mark, but I’ve always seen right through you. Hey, I’m the CO of my own alien city in another galaxy! In your face, Mr All-Star! You can take that four year contract and–”

“I think you have me confused with someone else, ” Mark said slowly, brows knitting. He held up his hands in a defensive position.

The violence emptied out of John. Mark was staring at him with wide, pale eyes, and John said numbly, “I– uh.” He jerked his thumb towards the door, shoving himself to his feet. “I think we need some time apart.”

“Sounds like it,” Mark replied with a nervous smile.

John walked back into the building, the doors sliding shut behind him. “Not your brother,” he whispered to himself. “Not your brother.” When he glanced over his shoulder, both Billick and Edison were watching him. Their eyes quickly snapped back up to the wall.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes until it hurt. What did one do when a Wraith confessed their love?

“So apparently,” he said as he walked back into Rodney’s room without knocking, “I’m irresistible to Wraith.”

Rodney was sitting at his desk eating a can of sliced peaches. “Say what?”

“Mark. Has a thing for me.”

“Of course he does,” Rodney muttered.

“What was that?” John asked, just to be an asshole. He sat on the end of Rodney’s bed, which had new sheets on it. Rodney must’ve changed them the second he’d left.

Rodney swiveled the chair around to look John straight in the eye. “I said, of course he does. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone has a thing for you. You’re so–” He waved his hand up and down John’s body, like that explained it.

John was really fucking sick of Rodney’s Kirk jokes. “I don’t know where the hell you get this idea that I’m some sex-crazed egomaniac. I don’t hit on everything that moves, and I sure as hell never hit on your sister, so if that’s what’s crawled up your ass and died, you can forget about it.”

Rodney said, “I just meant… you’re really good-looking.”

“You can stop with the sarcasm,” John growled.

“I’m not being sarcastic,” Rodney snapped. “Excuse me if I don’t think it’s ridiculous that some guy you’ve been spending time with and baring your soul to happens to have feelings for you. Some people actually get crushes on people who pay attention to them, especially when that person is some big hero-type who they can’t possibly understand.”

John was taken aback. “Are you saying Ronon and Teyla have crushes on me?”

Rodney threw his hands in the air. “No, you simpleton, I’m saying I have a crush on you! God, you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met in my life. Some days I swear the Ancients let you make that chair orgasm so you’d have to come here and make me lose my mind.”

John opened his mouth, but he didn’t have any words. He’d fantasized about what Rodney would be like in bed often enough to admit to himself he had a thing; a couple of times, late at night, feeling like the universe’s biggest idiot, he’d thought about what it’d be like if there was more to it than that. That connection Mark had been talking about, he’d felt it with Rodney, and sometimes, he thought Rodney did too. But he’d never expected it to happen.

“I–” he started, then stopped. Rodney’s expression went from mortified to hopeful. “I–”

Elizabeth’s voice broke in, startling him. “Colonel Sheppard, may I see you in my office?”

“I need to go,” John told Rodney numbly.

Rodney nodded miserably. “Yes, I’ll be, um. Probably in the lab. If you need me. Or not.”

Elizabeth looked up at John as he stumbled into her office a lot less gracefully than he’d intended. He collapsed into one of the chairs in front of her desk and very carefully didn’t think about how his life sucked. His teammate and his Wraith both had feelings for him. One scared the crap out of him, and the other he was conspiring to smuggle out of Atlantis.

“What’s going on?” he drawled.

“Major Lorne’s team just returned from M4X-111,” Elizabeth said. She looked delighted. “Guess which planet had some interesting rumours about a power device left behind by the Ancients?”

It was the easiest plan John had ever had. He wondered why it had taken him so long to think of it.

He smirked, slowly and smugly, crossing his arms behind his head. “My team will head out first thing in the morning.”

*

It was time to tell Ronon and Teyla exactly what was going on. Truthfully, John wasn’t looking forward to it. He’d never been good at being the bearer of bad news. He tended to trip over his words and make people feel worse. Like Ford’s cousin. Or every person he’d ever dated.

“Remember that time you had that friend who was a Wraith, and we lied to him about it, and then it backfired and he went bananas on us?”

Teyla’s left eyebrow twitched upwards.”You mean Michael?”

“Yeah,” he said brightly, “Michael. Do you have a minute?”

She looked pointedly around the empty gym.

“You should probably sit down for this,” John said, because this was the kind of conversation that was better sitting down. He just hoped when he told her, she didn’t do something horrible. Hitting he could deal with; crying, not so much.

“What is going on?” Teyla asked slowly, sounding slightly alarmed.

He took a seat on the bench, and Teyla gingerly sat beside him, her brows drawing together. “This is hard for me to say.” He opened his mouth to tell her everything when he spotted a series of purple hickies barely hidden under the high collar of her new shirt. Suddenly he had a much more important thing to ask. “Does Mark have… you know…?”

Teyla frowned. “Does he have…?”

John shrugged, trying to look casual. Stupid Rodney and his stupid ideas. “Boy parts?”

“Oh,” she said. “No.”

“Did Michael?”

Teyla chuckled. “No, John, of course not. Wraith do not have the same genitals as humans.”

It wasn’t like John had been considering hooking up with Mark before, but this sealed it. There was no way in hell John was sleeping with a man without a dick. Not that John had ever been with a man; sure, over the years he’d had some crushes, and there’d been that really inappropriate thing he had for one of the mechanics during the first Gulf War that had gotten him a few raised eyebrows. But if he was going to risk his neck for some guy-on-guy action, he was going to go all the way.

“There is more than one way to have sex,” Teyla added.

“Oh,” John said knowingly, waggling his eyebrows, “so he’s good at–”

“I am very skilled in the ways of fisting.”

John’s mind went blissfully white. Teyla looked at him serenely.

“It gives me a feeling of empowerment like nothing else. I like to be the one who pene–”

“Okay,” John interrupted loudly. “I think we’re done with this discussion.”

A smirk had been forming on her lips, but now her face went blank again. He recognized apprehension when he saw it. “Is that what you came to discuss with me?” she asked carefully.

It was better to just spit it out, like ripping off a bandaid. There’d be other guys. This was Teyla. She was hot. “What would you say if we had to sneak Mark out of Atlantis so he wouldn’t alert the Wraith to our location?”

Teyla stared at him for a long moment. John wondered if it would make him less of a man if he threw up his hands to protect his face.

“All men are alike,” Teyla said finally. “They tell you they love you, when they are just biding their time until they can get back to their hive ships.”

“You’re telling me,” said John.

*

John called a team meeting in his room. He sat at the desk while Rodney and Teyla took up his bed, and Ronon leaned against the wall. Somehow, it was a lot easier to tell Ronon about Mark than it had been to tell Teyla. Possibly because Ronon wasn’t sleeping with Mark. He hoped. Oh God, how he hoped.

“So let me get this straight,” Ronon said, looming. “All this time we’ve been keeping him from remembering he’s a Wraith, he’s known about it?”

“Pretty much,” John replied.

“I never liked him,” Ronon declared.

“You’re such a liar,” Rodney scoffed. If he was suffering from their aborted exchange earlier, he wasn’t showing it. He was in full jackass mode. “You said he was a, and I quote, ‘funner’ version of the Colonel. I don’t even need to point out ‘funner’ isn’t a word.”

Betrayed, John glared at Ronon, who looked away shamefully. “What’re we going to do about him?” Ronon asked the floor.

Teyla stiffened. “If he was among my people, we would hang him, tie his corpse to a cart, and have it dragged through the village.”

She wasn’t taking it well. John guessed once you had your hand up some guy’s ass, it made you feel close.

“Really?” Rodney asked excitedly. “I say we give him to Teyla’s people.”

“McKay, we’ve been over this,” John warned. “Besides, I happen to have a great plan that’ll solve all our problems.”

“Do tell,” Rodney said.

“Wait, why aren’t we killing him?” Ronon asked. He looked at John in surprise.

“Because Sheppard has issues,” Rodney replied shortly. “Tell us your plan, Colonel.”

John leaned back in his chair, pleased with himself. His plan was awesome. “We sneak him onto the jumper we’re taking out for tomorrow’s mission, and we drop him off on the planet when we get there,” he explained proudly.

The room went very quiet for an instant.

Finally, Rodney bent forward, sneering, “What kind of retarded–? Hmm.” His eyes glazed over. “That might just be crazy enough to work.”

“What are you thinking?” John asked.

“I have an– excuse me, ‘lightbulb,’” Rodney said, curling his fingers into air quotes. Out of all the things John had ever said to Rodney, he regretted that one the most.

“I do not believe that plan will work,” Teyla protested. “Elizabeth is going to be very upset when she finds out what we have done. Is there not a way to fake Mark’s death? Surely Rodney can blow up something. Perhaps Ronon can pretend to murder Mark in a fit of rage.”

“We’d have to get Mark through the gate somehow, which means we’d have to get everybody out of the gate room, and I don’t want to risk hurting anybody by accident,” John said, grimacing. He was pretty sure Elizabeth wouldn’t kill him, but he’d never put that theory to the test. “McKay and I have been through this already. I’ll deal with it. I’ll say it was a command decision. She’ll understand after I explain the situation to her. I mean, it’s not like I’m doing this under mind control.”

Ronon and Teyla exchanged glances. “Of course not,” Teyla said.

“I can knock out the security cameras for a few minutes,” Rodney said, snapping his fingers. He reached around John’s shoulder and scooped his tablet off the desk. “Not for long; just enough for it to look like a glitch. Then, while that’s out, you can get Mark into the jumper. Voila, we take off, he’s released back into the wild, we’re done. All you’d need to do is tell me is where to turn the cameras off.”

Mark had developed a schedule in his time in Atlantis, and John knew it pretty well by this point. “I can do that,” he said.

“Teyla and I will watch your backs,” Ronon said seriously.

“Of course you will,” Rodney exclaimed. “Did you think I was going to ask for your help in hacking the security system? Please.”

John sent Rodney a narrow-eyed glance. Sometimes he could be such an asshole. Evidently, Ronon thought so too, because he glared hard enough for Rodney to balk.

“As I was saying,” Rodney continued, clearing his throat, “I’m sure the two of you will, as usual, be valuable assets. The Wild Bunch to our Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid. The lab assistants to our Michelson and Morley. The–”

“McKay,” John cut in.

“Sorry,” Rodney said. “You know I can’t help myself when I’m nervous.”

*

When Ronon and Teyla were leaving, John asked, “Hey, McKay, can you stay for a minute?”

Teyla gave John a sympathetic look as the door closed in her face. He wasn’t sure if that was because she could tell what was going on between them or because of the freaky ass telepathy. It wasn’t like Rodney knew the definition of subtle. Being loud and obnoxious was more his style.

Rodney hesitated. “Make it fast. Every second we waste in here is a second I should be working on our plan.”

“Like I don’t know you can hack the system in less than five minutes,” John said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rodney preened a little; he never could resist a compliment. “Alright, spit it out.”

With some difficulty, John began, “I know that what happened earlier was embarrassing…”

“Yes, I can see how that would be been particularly devastating for you,” Rodney snapped.

“Hey!” John said defensively. “We need to discuss–” Don’t say our relationship, don’t say our relationship. “–Our relationship–” Dammit! “–but not now. It’s going to have to wait until after we’ve dealt with this situation.”

“Yes, of course,” Rodney said prickly. “I know that. What’s going on now is much more important than our– than whatever’s going on. I’m sorry to break it to you, Colonel, but the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Look, if you calm down a minute, I’m trying to tell you something. I was going to say, we’re going to talk about it later, but I don’t want you to think I–” He didn’t know how to tell Rodney without saying something embarrassing. He put his hand on Rodney’s arm, and Rodney went very still. “You need to know I–”

“Colonel Sheppard, can you please come to my office?” Elizabeth’s voice buzzed in his ear, shattering the moment. “There’s an error in one of your requisition forms.”

“Uh, yeah, right away,” he said into the mic. In that moment, John hated Elizabeth and paperwork with every fibre of his being.

He and Rodney stared at each other.

“These interruptions are probably a sign,” said John half-jokingly.

Rodney gave him a disgusted look and walked out like he wished he could slam the door behind him.

*

The next morning, John met with his security team, finished reading last week’s mission reports from the teams, and attended his own pre-mission briefing, all without giving away that he was up to something. Granted, Rodney wouldn’t look him in the eye and Ronon kept making guilty faces, but Rodney being a bastard was nothing new and, thankfully, Elizabeth had never understood Ronon anyway. Teyla, at least, had been as cool and composed as ever, even though she had probably been imaging all the different ways she could kill Mark in her head.

For the first phase of the Operation: Wraith No More, John met Mark, Sergeant Edison, and Sergeant Billick in the sky walk connecting the north and east towers. He had Ronon’s gun tucked in his waistband, under his tac jacket, and a couple of Ronon’s rope-like hair ties in his back pocket.

John smiled as the three men headed in his direction. “I’ll take it from here, guys,” he ordered.

As soon as Billick’s and Edison’s backs were turned, John stunned them. They fell to the ground in a loud heap.

“What are you doing?” Mark demanded.

“Getting you out of here,” John said. He started pulling Edison, the smaller of the two, by the armpits. “Help me stuff these guys in the storage closet.”

“Wow,” Mark said, rushing over to grab Edison’s feet, “wow, um, I wish you’d told me you were going to do this, I could’ve packed.”

John narrowed his eyes. “And by ‘packed,’ you mean…?”

“Work on my seduction technique.”

Together, Mark and John tried to lift Edison. He was a lot heavier than he looked; John started to break out in a sweat and Mark’s face went bright red with strain as they tried dragging him towards the closet. “Okay!” John exclaimed, letting the man fall to the ground again. He panted. “This isn’t working.”

Mark brushed sweat of his forehead. “Man, it’s a lot easier to move bodies when they’re dried-up, withered husks.”

John laughed before he could stop himself. He coughed. “That’s not funny,” he said, scowling.

“Come on, that was totally funny,” Mark said, grabbing Edison’s calves. John got a better grip on his shoulders. “Okay, on three.”

They finally managed to stuff Edison in the closet. John tried to catch his breath, feeling like he’d just run a marathon. He wiped his sweaty palms on his BDUs. Maybe in the next databurst he’d ask the SGC for skinnier Marines, although it would be hard to explain that he wanted them because they were easier to carry. Or maybe not; he had the feeling General Landry thought he was kind of nuts.

“There,” Mark said, “that wasn’t so hard.” He beamed at John.

“We still need to move Billick,” John said.

“Dammit,” said Mark.

John pulled the rope out of his pocket and began tying Edison’s hands behind his back. “We have ten minutes before Rodney turns the security cameras back on. We need to get Billick in here, pronto.”

“Everyone’s going to think I did this,” Mark said, leaning over John’s shoulder.

“That’s the plan,” John replied smugly.

*

Rodney was alone in the jumper when John and Mark got there. His laptop was plugged into one of the wall terminals of the jumper bay, and he was sitting on the jumper’s floor, typing furiously.

“How much longer do we have?” John asked.

“Two minutes,” Rodney replied sharply. He met John’s eyes for a split second, then he glanced back down at the screen. “Then all we have to do it wait for Ronon and Teyla. Provided we don’t get caught keeping people out of the corridors, of course.”

John slid on his tac vest. Mark was walking around the jumper, poking at things.

“Can I fly it?” Mark asked.

“No,” John and Rodney snapped simultaneously. “You wouldn’t be able to, anyway,” Rodney added. “You don’t have the gene, unless you shared DNA with the Colonel when you– how about you just keep your hands to yourself, hmm, and leave the flying to Captain Kirk here?” Mark raised his hands in the air and stepped back.

“I’m going to murder you if call me that one more time,” John growled.

“Fine, I have a whole repertoire of Riker jokes I have yet to use.”

Mark bent to gaze at the HUD. “I haven’t flown in years,” he murmured dreamily. “Our ships are different, though. I’ve never been inside a Lantean one before. I mean, while conscious.”

Rodney and John exchanged glances.

“If we screw up the galaxy again, do you want to run away together and become space pirates?” John asked.

“No,” Rodney said. “Are you crazy? I’m not living in the back of a puddlejumper.”

There was a whoosh as the entrance to the jumper bay opened. John braced himself, until Teyla and Ronon walked up the ramp. “I believe no one is suspicious,” Teyla said, zipping into her tac jacket. “However, it is only a matter of time before the guards are found unconscious.”

John handed Ronon’s gun back to him. He watched jealously as Ronon spun it once and stuck it in his holster. “We’re ready to leave as soon as I give the order.”

As Teyla and– well, Teyla finished suiting up, John heard Mark say to Rodney in the cockpit: “Thanks for helping me. I know you don’t like me very much.”

Rodney laughed loudly and nervously. “What? Preposterous! What possibly made you think that?”

“Well, all the glaring kind of gave it away. Also, Ronon told me,” Mark said.

“Stupid barbarian,” Rodney grumbled.

When John took the pilot’s seat, Rodney finished tucking his laptop back into its case. John turned on his radio. Out of the corner of his eye, Ronon and Teyla ushered Mark away from the cockpit window. “Command room, this is Jumper One,” John said. “We’re ready to head out.”

John was expecting Sergeant Campbell on the line, but instead it was Elizabeth. “John, I don’t wish to alarm you, but have you seen Mark Messier?”

“The hockey player?” John asked, smirking.

He could hear her eyes narrowing. “The Wraith.”

“Haven’t seen him,” he lied. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s not important. He asked me to teach him how to play chess today. We had a play date, but he’s late.”

John turned to glare at Mark to find Rodney already giving Mark the evil eye. “Isn’t it funny how everyone who reads your mind suddenly has a hard time keeping it in their pants?” Rodney dryly asked.

“Hey, Teyla’s not whoring herself all over Atlantis,” John said.

“What?” Teyla called from the back.

“Jumper One, this is flight.” It was Sergeant Campbell this time. “The bay doors are open. You’re go for launch.”

John’s fingers flew over the controls, running over the checklist he could do in his sleep. “Thanks. See you at the check in. Sheppard out.”

He glanced over his shoulder; in the back, Mark had a hand on Teyla’s shoulder and was saying, “Baby, you know I’m not like that.” Ronon, in the chair behind McKay, met John’s eyes and pulled a face. Rodney, of course, was staring out the window resolutely.

John took a deep breath and guided the jumper through the hatch.

*

“What’s taking so long? He’s probably sucking the life out of her. I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Stop it, they’re probably making out,” John said, glaring.

Rodney glanced at him in surprise. “I thought he had the hots for you?”

“Him and Teyla have… done things,” John said uncomfortably. “Intimate things that aren’t easily forgotten. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“I always knew Teyla was a dominatrix,” Rodney said. He almost sounded wistful. “All I want is for him to get out of our lives. It’s been bad enough these last few weeks without a ZPM and you being all–” He made a strange gesture that John took to mean “loopy.” “I’ve actually begun fearing for my life more than usual lately. Every time someone calls me I think they’re going to say we’re under siege by the Wraith. I’m going to end up on anti-anxiety medication by the end of the week. Did you know Carson has an entire shelf of Xanax alone?”

“These last couple of weeks have been a real vacation for me too, Rodney,” John said sarcastically.

Rodney dropped his head back to rest against the jumper. The two of them were sitting on the grass, staring up at the now-familiar constellations. Ronon was off spying on Teyla, or something. It probably wasn’t the safest position for them to be in, but the only sign of human civilization for miles was the stargate, and John didn’t feel like they were in any danger. There was a cool breeze in the air. Pegasus crickets chirped. It was, John noticed, kind of romantic.

He pulled his legs closer and started edging towards Rodney. “Now would be a great time to have that conversation,” he said quietly.

“What conversation?” Rodney asked. “Oh. That conversation. The conversation I’d injure myself to avoid.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You’d injure yourself.”

“Well, maybe a papercut,” Rodney said, wiggling his fingers.

But he didn’t move away as John closed the gap between them, until they were pressed shoulder to shoulder. “Remember what you said yesterday?” John asked.

“No, I always forget humiliating conversations regarding my feelings,” Rodney said, rolling his eyes.

He brushed his trembling fingers over Rodney’s palm. “Um, so you know, me too, with the crushing and the feeling crazy.”

Rodney’s mouth dropped, but he quickly regained his composure. “You’re trying to tell me you have feelings for me that are less than platonic?”

Say something meaningful, John told himself.

“I like your hands,” he said.

“Good enough for me,” Rodney said.

But Rodney didn’t lay a hand on him; he looked back up at the stars, smiling crookedly, and then turned to John. John beamed at him with the same kind of dizzying relief he felt after every life-or-death mission. He had the electrifying feeling of being alive.

“I can’t believe my first man-kiss was with a Wraith,” John said. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

“Is that a challenge?” Rodney asked, voice going up a few octaves.

“If you think you can do better than a–”

His words were drowned out by Rodney kissing him. He brought his hands up to cup Rodney’s face; he liked the way Rodney’s bristled cheeks felt against his skin, the way one of Rodney’s hands combed through his hair while the other, big and warm, slid down to his waist. He sucked a sharp breath in through his nose, angling his face as Rodney’s lips parted beneath his, and–

“Hey.” They tore apart. Ronon was standing in front of them.

“Do you mind?” Rodney asked, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah, I do,” Ronon said.

“You do?” Rodney repeated disbelievingly.

Ronon silently shifted on the balls of his feet.

“Are you lonely?” John asked.

“Maybe,” Ronon muttered.

“Oh no,” Rodney said. He wrapped an arm around John’s shoulders. “I’ve worked long and hard for this. I deserve this! You can get your own military hunk. And just so you know, most people from Earth don’t find it hot when you hit them over the head and drag them back to your cave.”

“It’s too bad Teyla’s only into Wraith,” John said sympathetically.

“Give me time,” Ronon said with a scowl, “I already have the hair and the coat.” Then he raised his head and looked at something in the distance. “They’re done.”

The three of them walked across the field to where Mark and Teyla were waiting by the stargate, John and Rodney discreetly bumping shoulders. When they got to the DHD, Mark was kissing Teyla’s cheek. That player, John thought darkly. Ronon looked annoyed; Rodney made his “Captain Kirk again?” face, which meant John had to punch him later.

After Teyla finished with her Athosian hug, Mark turned to John. “Can I say goodbye to you alone?”

“Sure,” John said, ignoring Rodney’s pinched look. Mark took his arm and led him just a few feet away from the group. Behind him, he could hear someone punching in gate coordinates.

“Thanks,” Mark said, “for helping me. Sorry about screwing up your life and making you all–” He made a hand gesture probably stolen from Rodney. “Wraith-y.”

Maybe it was the pressure of concealing their plan from Elizabeth and Lorne and the rest of Atlantis, or maybe it was his agitation over the whole Rodney thing, but John realized he was feeling exactly like himself. He was John Sheppard, the troublemaker with the fucked up blood family who didn’t acknowledge his existence and the family he’d made for himself in a new galaxy and the crazy Ancient city he called home, and he loved ferris wheels, college football, and anything that went more than two hundred miles per hour. He was fan-fucking-tastic.

Laughter bubbled up inside him. “Nah, I’m cool,” he said. “Sorry for making you eat animals and turning you into a human against your will.”

Mark smiled. “I don’t know if this happened because I gave you your life back, or because I was in that cell for so long, or even because this is who I really am. But thanks for showing me what it’s like to be human, and for trusting me.”

“Yeah, well.” John nodded. “Next time I see you, all bets are off. I mean it this time.”

“I guess I’ll have to make sure you don’t see me again.”

“Do you think we’re going to be like this forever?” John asked. “It sucks being hungry all the time. Also, the fish thing? Kind of weird.”

“I don’t know,” Mark said. He scratched his chin. One missing injection and already his eyes were starting to look more yellow. “I don’t think so. I’m already starting to forget things. I’m losing interest in football.”

“Really?” John asked, pleased.

“One of the Marines told me about this other game. Someone throws a ball, and you hit with a stick?”

“No,” John said.

“I bet I’d be good at it,” Mark mused.

“Would you look at that, the gate’s open,” John said.

“You don’t want to play a game of catch before I–?”

“Can’t, no time,” John said with a tight smile. “Sorry.”

Mark leered. “How about a kiss?”

“You don’t have a cock,” John pointed out. Mark deflated.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. “I guess this is where we part ways,” Mark said.

John felt like he should say something important. It was the last time they’d ever see each other. Mark may have been a Wraith who’d caused John unparalleled emotional and physical pain while stealing aspects of his personality during multiple feeding sessions, but they’d played a lot of golf together. John trusted him more than he would his real brother.

“Take care of yourself,” John said. “And don’t run into any Wraith. And don’t feed off any humans, or else I’ll have to kill you. Oh, and try to stay away from the chickens, they looked kind of diseased.”

Mark backed up towards the stargate. “Goodbye, friends!” he called, waving to them all.

Ronon nodded solemnly. “So long.”

“Goodbye,” Teyla said with feeling. “I will never forget you!”

“Jesus, this is taking forever,” said Rodney.

John went to stand side-by-side with his team as Mark disappeared into the shimmering blue of the event horizon. When it flickered out, Teyla let out a small sigh, Ronon grunted meaningfully, and Rodney pulled his PDA from his vest pocket and immediately started working.

“ZPM or no ZPM, Elizabeth is going to kick our asses,” Rodney announced.

“You can tell her it was my fault,” John said.

“I was planning to,” Rodney remarked.

Ronon snuffled. Rodney said loudly, “You are not crying.”

“I have something in my eye,” Ronon mumbled.

Rodney sighed like the world was a cruel, cold place. “You’re never going to tell me about your brother, are you,” he said to John, sounding so annoyed that John had to look away, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. When they got back to Atlantis, he thought, after Elizabeth finished tearing him a new one and Rodney helped him get rid of those pesky sexual inhibitions, maybe he’d round up Lorne and the guys for a game of touch football.

*

End.

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Thanks to my wonderful betas: Keri, for all her hard work (she knows way more about sports than I ever will), and Madelyn (who also helped come up with the title).

Warning: Rated NC-17 for adult situations.

Summary: Tag for 3×03 Irresistible. Rodney fails at getting his revenge, and Sheppard fails at getting his point across. McKay/Sheppard.

*

They put Lucius Lovin in a holding cell while everyone in Atlantis — except Sheppard, who was being a dick about the whole thing — received the antidote. Rodney had been feeling justifiably humiliated since he’d been innoculated, and being in the labs hadn’t helped much, since everyone there was either embarrassed or furious. Those who were angry were easier to deal with than the ones who were acting like they had something to be ashamed about. It was one thing to be in love with the man, but none of them had tried to give Lucius a jumper.

Carson was loading up his med kit when Rodney wandered into the infirmary. “Hello, Rodney,” he called out absently, not looking up from a pile of bottles of what Rodney assumed was the vaccine. “Everyone in Atlantis should be better now. Let me tell you, I’ve never had that many people crying all at once before.”

Rodney hadn’t cried. Much. “So, ah,” he said, picking up an empty test tube and then setting it back on the table. “Are you doing okay? I mean, it was, uh, quite an interesting experience, what with all those new feelings…”

“What new feelings?” Carson asked, finally looking at him.

“You know, wanting to be–” He waved a hand. “Intimate. With Lucius.”

Carson’s eyes widened. “I didn’t want to be intimate with him. I just wanted him to like me.”

Rodney gaped. “But– you– you did a handstand!”

“Because I was trying to impress him!” Carson countered. “Rodney, are you trying to tell me you had romantic feelings for Lucius?”

“Of course not. I’m one hundred–” In a violent attempt to overthrow him, his brain flashed to an image of Sheppard in his new leather jacket. “–Ninety percent heterosexual. Maybe eighty. Okay, definitely seventy-five percent heterosexual.”

Carson looked worried. “Seventy-five percent heterosexual? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m less gay than Lance Bass, but more gay than Justin Timberlake.”

Carson’s brow knitted. “Are you being serious?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Rodney said.

*

Zelenka wasn’t much help either. Rodney tracked him down after everyone else had gone to lunch, and asked, “When Lucius had you under his spell, did you have any feelings that were — how do I put this? Gay.”

He’d been hoping Zelenka would answer, “Yes, of course, it happened to us all.” But when Zelenka didn’t immediately answer, Rodney had all the confirmation he needed. Now the best he could hope for was for Zelenka to think he was kidding around. Not that he ever kidded around, not with Zelenka, at any rate.

“You know what, let’s forget I said anything,” he said quickly. His life was so embarrassing.

“McKay. Rodney.” Zelenka pulled off his glasses and slowly cleaned them with the hem of his shirt. Then he slid them back on. “If this is your way of telling me you are attracted to me, I must turn you down. I like women. Tall, dark-haired women with fiery spirits and cute little shirts.”

“I’m not attracted to you,” Rodney said.

Zelenka patted his hand. “There is no need to lie. It is alright. I am only a little disgusted. In time, you will get over me, and perhaps one day you will learn to love again.”

Rodney tore his hand away. “Zelenka, believe me, I’m not attracted to you. I’m an incredibly shallow person.”

“Calling me ugly is not going to disguise your love for me,” Zelenka said, raising a finger in the air.

“Goddamn it,” Rodney said. He scowled, thinking of Lucius resting comfortably in that prison cell, knowing he’d ruined Rodney’s life. “That idiotic, monkey-brained, uncivilized witch doctor. I bet this was all part of his plan.”

“Yes,” Zelenka said seriously, “first he will turn Rodney McKay gay, and then the galaxy will be his. I have often considered that very plan.”

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Rodney said.

Zelenka snorted. “Who would I tell?” Rodney glared until Zelenka lowered his head shamefully. “Yes, fine.”

“McKay?” came a familiar — and annoying — voice at the doorway, and Rodney went cold all over.

“What are you doing here?” Rodney demanded.

“Just making sure you guys were okay. Hanging in there, buddy?” Sheppard asked, eyes wide and full of fake concern. Rodney wished that cold had killed him. He’d been making fun of them for hours; he’d even laughed while Rodney had pitifully cried because they’d taken away the man he thought he’d loved. “You’re not having any urges to see if Lucius’s okay, right? Maybe wanting to sneak down there and longingly press your hand against the glass?”

Rodney said sourly, “No, asshole. Holding cells don’t have glass. Don’t you have better things to do than to harass me?”

“I’m on break,” Sheppard said. He leaned against the doorframe. “Thought I’d stop by and see who was still carving Lucius’s name into their arms.”

Rodney snorted. “What kind of disturbing teenagehood did you have, Colonel? Oh hey, is that why you wear that stupid wristband?”

“May I see your scars?” Zelenka asked.

Sheppard glowered. “I’m going to go make fun of Ronon some more. You should see his face whenever I bring up Teyla wanting to marry Lucius. Although he says he’s not sorry for shooting me, for some reason.”

“I can’t imagine why not,” Rodney said sarcastically.

Sheppard stepped out the door. “See you guys,” he said, leaning into the lab, and then he raised a clenched fist to his heart. “Rodney, be strong.”

“I hate you,” Rodney seethed. When he was sure Sheppard was truly gone, he turned back to Zelenka. “I hate that man.”

“You love him,” Zelenka said carelessly, and Rodney felt a rush of terror and rage so powerful he felt like his head was going to explode, and then he realized he was just biting down on his tongue.

Rodney thought about Sheppard’s cocky swagger and mocking smirk, laughing at them for being under Lucius’s spell, when he had no idea, no idea, what a humiliating experience that had been. Especially since Sheppard seemed to think he was too cool for school now. It was infuriating.

“I still have a sample of the chemical,” Rodney said quietly. “We’ll see what happens when the straightest person in Atlantis gets a whiff of the new and improved Dr Rodney McKay.”

“I thought Ronon had already received the antidote?” Zelenka asked.

“I meant Sheppard,” Rodney said, exasperated.

Zelenka frowned. “I don’t think you have thought this plan through.”

But Rodney was excited now. He chuckled to himself. “Imagine Sheppard on his knees, worshiping me in the manner I deserve. That’ll show him. Oh, he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“This conversation is making me uncomfortable,” Zelenka said.

*

When it came down to it, Rodney was a petty, petty man. He had accepted this about himself long ago, much in the same way he accepted most of the science he had learned at university had no practical application in a universe of stargates.

Carson had taken all of Lucius’ magical mystery weed and disposed of it, but the bottle and its contents were still on Rodney’s lab bench, right where he’d left them before he was manhandled by Ronon.

Unfortunately, the lab was full when he went to retrieve it, so he had to make a show of pointing out Opticon’s latest mathematical error while discreetly pocketing the bottle. When the fight broke out between Zelenka, Opticon, and Thorne, he slipped out.

In his quarters, he held the bottle of the clear liquid up to the light, making sure there was enough for him to swallow. There was just enough there to humiliate Sheppard for a couple of hours.

“Bottoms up,” he murmured, raising it to let a few drops fall on his tongue. It was one of the foulest things he’d ever put in his mouth, and that included Teyla’s weird turtle soup thing. He dug around until he found an old, warm bottle of fruit punch on the floor under his desk, and he chugged it down. He didn’t know how old that juice was, but it almost got rid of the burning. This was exactly why didn’t drink.

Once he finished gagging, he stared at the now-empty bottle in his hand.

“Oh,” he said to himself, “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

*

He was casually looking for Sheppard while pretending like he wasn’t when his radio came to life, and Sergeant Campbell said, “Dr McKay, you’re needed in the briefing room.”

Rodney was, it seemed, the last one to know there was a meeting taking place; he’d known they were going to send Lucius back to his homeworld eventually, but no one had bothered to give him any sort of time estimate. Apparently there were some problems convincing Lucius to keep his mouth shut about the location of Atlantis.

When he entered the briefing room, Elizabeth and Teyla were sitting together, glaring fiercely at Lucius, who was at Ronon’s side. Ronon had one massive hand on his shoulder. Lucius was looking a little terrified.

Sheppard, at Ronon’s other side, stopped mid-sentence and stared at Rodney for a long moment. Then he went back to talking to Ronon.

Hmm, Rodney thought, but what he said was, “Colonel,” and grabbed his usual seat next to him. He made sure he was sitting close enough for Sheppard to get a big sniff of pheromones.

Sheppard attractively raised an eyebrow. “Rodney,” he answered in a tone that was more suspicious than usual.

“How’s your cold?”

“Better,” Sheppard said, and Rodney noticed he wasn’t all nasally anymore. “It’s nice to finally be able to breathe again.”

Elizabeth was making motions like she was ready to begin. She said, “Obviously, we need to escort Lucius — Mr Lovin — back to his homeworld.”

“You’re too kind, Elizabeth, sweetness,” Lucius crooned.

One of her eyebrows rose so high it looked painful. “We also need to give the antidote to the people of his village.”

“There’s really no need–” Ronon’s hand visibly tightened on Lucius’s shoulder. He gulped. “Whatever you think is best.”

“John?” Elizabeth asked.

“I’m ready to go whenever the rest of my team is,” Sheppard said. He leaned back in his seat.

“I am ready,” Teyla said quickly.

“Me too, let’s go,” Ronon replied, pulling Lucius up with him.

Sheppard smirked. “Looks like we’re ready to go now.”

“My stuff’s in my room, if you’ll wait a minute,” Rodney said.

Sheppard nodded at Teyla and Ronon, who dragged Lucius off somewhere with them. “We can grab it on the way. I need some extra ammo anyway.”

When they got to Rodney’s quarters, Sheppard followed him right in.

Sheppard grimaced. “Jesus, McKay. It’s normally not this bad in here. I thought you were a hypochrondriac,” he said, and Rodney snapped, “I’m fine with my own germs, it’s everyone else’s germs I’m worried about.”

When Sheppard bent down and started throwing clothes into the hamper, Rodney was taken aback. Sheppard wasn’t the sort of guy who imposed his military corners, leave-no-sock-behind behaviour on other people, so that meant his being nice had to be the potion, even though this was the first real sign of Sheppard behaving strangely. Sheppard was grumbling to himself the entire time, and if the potion was working, he had to be the most disrespectful love slave ever; Rodney specifically remembered lavishing praises upon Lucius.

“Okay, this is pretty nasty,” Sheppard said, unearthing a pile of dirty plates.

“Uh, Colonel,” Rodney said, beginning to feel just a teeny, tiny bit guilty. He’d wanted Sheppard to follow him around with a goofy, smitten expression and tell everyone how wonderful he was, not clean his room. It was too weird to have Sheppard being himself and doing things for Rodney anyway. It wasn’t even funny.

Sheppard blinked at him. “What?”

“It’s nothing. Carry on,” said Rodney, staring stupidly as Sheppard moved to pick up armfuls of trash. He was still staring when his radio clicked on fifteen minutes later.

*

“Hey, honey, could you loosen these restraints for me?” Lucius asked. “I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

“Do not speak to me,” Teyla said.

There was a rustle and a loud squeal from the back of the cockpit, and when Rodney turned, Lucius was clutching his bound hands to his chest. It was somewhat gratifying to see him with such a wounded expression.

“If you value your life, you will not touch me again,” said Teyla icily.

“If you value your arms, you won’t touch her again,” Ronon added.

Rodney exchanged glances with Sheppard. “Don’t make me come back there,” Sheppard said cheerfully.

“There is no ‘back here,’” Ronon said. “We’re right here.”

“I still think there’s something wrong with Colonel Sheppard,” Lucius said loudly.

“Nevermind,” Sheppard grumbled.

*

On the planet, Rodney tripped over a root. No one helped him up. Sheppard didn’t even pause his story about how his dad had taken him camping when he was eleven, and how his mom had sent the FBI to look for them after they’d been lost for three days. Rodney mentally put another tally into the ‘not completely drugged’ category.

He flexed his biceps a little. Sheppard glanced down at them for a brief second, then back at Rodney’s face, and asked, “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing?” Rodney said. “Why, what did it look like I was doing?”

“Did you sprain something?” Sheppard asked. “Do you need Ronon to give you a back massage?”

“Ronon gives massages?” Rodney asked incredulously. He looked over his shoulder at Ronon, who raised his eyebrows in response. “That’s more than a little disturbing.”

“He gives ‘em to me all the time,” Sheppard said.

“Oh yeah, Ronon’s back massages are great,” Lucius said, beaming at them with one of his stupid, open-mouthed smiles.

“It’s a Satedan bonding thing,” Ronon explained, shrugging.

“Oh please,” Rodney said. “You were trying to get into his pants, weren’t you? I knew it.”

Ronon scowled ferociously. “I’m the only one on this team who likes women,” he said flatly.

“Ronon,” Teyla warned.

Rodney sputtered, “What did you just say? I’ll have you know, I’m practically heterosexual.”

Sheppard looked at him sharply. “Practically?”

“I had a gay experience once,” Lucius said thoughtfully. “But I had to tell him, no, Your Majesty, as much as I’d like to share your kingdom, I have my own people to take care of. Ah, yeah. Good times.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rodney said.

*

It wasn’t like Rodney hadn’t been attracted to Sheppard before Lucius. You had to be blind or stupid to not find Sheppard hot, with his spiky hair and his muscular arms and his skinny body. Even when Rodney thought he was so used to Sheppard’s face he no longer found him good-looking, Sheppard would want to talk about what went wrong with George Lucas, or how he’d be part of the resistance if real life was like Logan’s Run. Really, when he thought about it, Rodney had been fucked the second they’d met.

*

He didn’t know why he was surprised when he was finally caught. They would’ve figured out what was going on sooner if Sheppard had fallen for the potion and declared Rodney his personal god right away, like any normal person.

Sheppard was in his room when he got back from being lectured by Elizabeth, Carson, and his team. Rodney’s bed was made, his books were stacked, and his desk was bare, and Sheppard was down to his t-shirt and slacks, on his hands and knees. He didn’t want to know where Sheppard had found a Swiffer, and he most certainly didn’t want to know why Sheppard thought Rodney cared if the floor under his bed was clean. What he did want to know was what the hell had happened to all his stuff.

“Hey, thanks for cleaning my room, now I can find nothing at all,” Rodney said.

Sheppard rolled his eyes, climbing to his feet. “You’re welcome.” He leaned the Swiffer against the wall and started sorting through the basket of clean clothes Rodney had never gotten around to putting away.

Rodney watched him silently. Eventually, Sheppard noticed. “What’s with you?” Sheppard asked.

“What’s with you?” Rodney said. “You don’t feel weird? Even just a little bit? Is your heart racing? Do you feel the need to be around me at all times? Am I suddenly much hotter than I was before?”

“No, I feel the same as always,” Sheppard said slowly.

“You’re cleaning my room,” Rodney pointed out. He couldn’t deal with this.

Sheppard glanced down at the shirt clenched in his hands, and then screwed up his face thoughtfully. “What are you trying to say?”

The thing was, Sheppard should have been finding him irresistable, but either he was immune to it, or he found Rodney irresistable every day, which was absurd.

“I’m saying I used Lucius’s potion on you,” Rodney said. “Also, I think we should have sex.”

Sheppard dropped the shirt. “You what?” he yelled.

“No, I just– I didn’t mean–” Rodney said weakly, feeling sick. “I misinterpreted some things. Can we pretend I didn’t say any of that?”

“You drugged me?” Sheppard shouted.

“Oh yeah. That. Let’s concentrate on that,” Rodney said.

Rodney had always had a fully-developed sense of self-preservation. He was afraid of dying from anaphylactic shock, he was afraid of the Wraith, he was afraid of Ronon’s huge muscles, he was afraid of finding someone smarter than himself. But he’d never been scared of Sheppard — it was hard to be frightened of someone who used Teyla’s fighting sticks to pretend he was a Jedi — not until that very moment, when Sheppard came at him. Reflexively, he threw his hands up to protect his face, shouting, “I take it back, I take it back!” and Sheppard pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him.

“Um,” Rodney said. Without thinking, he grabbed Sheppard’s hips, so Sheppard wouldn’t do something crazy, like get off of him. “This isn’t beating me up.”

“I’m don’t beat up guys I’m fucking,” Sheppard said. “I’m not into that. I mean, unless that’s what you like. I’ll try anything once.”

Rodney’s mind blanked out when Sheppard straddled him and started wiggling around a little. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he protested weakly.

“Sure it does,” Sheppard said. “You took the potion because you wanted to sleep with me.”

“Actually, I took it because you were being an asshole,” he said, and when Sheppard went still, Rodney remembered how much pain he’d been in when he’d thought Lucius had been disappointed in him.

They stared at each other uncomfortably. Sheppard was kind of heavy, and Rodney’s erection was probably poking him.

“A sexy asshole,” Rodney added.

“Well, as long as I’m sexy,” Sheppard said sarcastically.

And that was when Sheppard kissed him.

Their teeth clicked together and Sheppard’s nose was kind of big and Rodney felt sweaty and clammy, with this guy sitting on him, but then suddenly he was sucking on Sheppard’s tongue and sliding his hands up Sheppard’s sides and it was amazing, even though Sheppard was drugged and Rodney was a horrible, horrible person.

“We shouldn’t,” Rodney said passionately, as Sheppard pressed his face against Rodney’s neck. “No,” he exclaimed, as Sheppard kissed his jaw. “Okay, if you insist,” he said, as Sheppard rocked his hips.

Rodney pushed until Sheppard leaned away from him, looking confused, and Rodney nudged him backwards so he was lying flat, his head off the edge of the bed. Sheppard said, “Hey,” and Rodney pulled him towards the metal headboard by his ankles.

“Much better,” Rodney murmured, crawling over Sheppard’s body.

“Yeah, that’s right, push me around,” Sheppard said, arching up and wrapping his arms around Rodney’s shoulders.

“Jesus Christ,” Rodney said. “You’re killing the mood.”

“Maybe you should restrain me,” Sheppard replied huskily.

“Can you not be crazy for fifteen minutes?” Rodney asked. Settling his weight on his calves, he pulled Sheppard’s hands off his shoulders and pressed them against the mattress. Sheppard smirked, and Rodney may not have been able to label that feeling blooming in his chest, but he recognized the heat pooling in his belly. He bent down and kissed the corner of Sheppard’s mouth.

Sheppard wrestled his hands away and started undoing Rodney’s belt. “Take this off.” Rodney kissed his neck instead. “You’re so– God, that’s good. We’re so good together. We’re great together. Why haven’t we done this before?”

“Because apparently you needed a love potion to lower your inhibitions,” Rodney said. “Christ, and I thought I’d be the talkative one.”

He spread his legs, shoving down his pants with one hand. Then he ripped out Sheppard’s Batman utility belt and tossed it on the floor. It was easy to pull Sheppard’s grey slacks down over his hips without unbuttoning them, and then his boxers, and it was just as easy to tug Sheppard’s shirt over his head, running his hands up Sheppard’s arms while Sheppard shivered, pressing himself into them.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, kissing Sheppard’s cheek, the pointed tip of his nose. Rodney needed him to see this wasn’t a one night stand for him, magic potion or no magic potion. He stroked Sheppard’s waist, and Sheppard gazed at him intensely, face softening.

“I want you to come on my face,” Sheppard said.

“What?” Rodney asked, horrified. “No, no. I watched bukkake in university once. It wasn’t that great. Also, have you ever had that shit on your eyelids before? You have to put soap on your eye before they come unstuck! Do you like anything, say, normal and not creepy?”

“Come on my face,” Sheppard repeated in a low tone, slowly sliding his leg over Rodney’s hip. He pressed his heel into the small of Rodney’s back.

“Christ,” Rodney hissed.

“You can fuck me first,” Sheppard said.

“Oh, well, in that case.” Tentatively, he put a hand on the bed next to Sheppard’s head, and the other hand on Sheppard’s cock, which was warm and kind of wet. It was a little strange to be jacking someone else off. Sheppard let out a small moan and his head dropped sideways, his warm breath hitting Rodney’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah, come on, fuck me, come on, do it,” Sheppard said in a rush.

“Stop talking while I’m trying to make love to you,” Rodney snapped. He fished under the mattress to find the nearly-empty bottle of lube; he’d brought it to use with the ladies, yet he’d only used it on himself. “Do you have any condoms?”

“Tac vest, back left pocket,” Sheppard said.

“Of course,” Rodney grumbled. He meant, “Of course you carry condoms with you offworld,” but Sheppard said, “Hey, don’t look at me, it’s not like I put it over there intentionally.”

The vest was sitting on the floor by the door, along with Sheppard’s jacket and his tac holster. He felt stupid crossing the room naked, with his hard on hanging out, and Sheppard cracked up. He was still laughing when Rodney bounced back on the bed, kissing him until Sheppard sighed into his mouth.

“Can we do it like this?” Rodney asked. “I, um. It’s possible I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard said, “but it’ll be easier like this.” He rolled over, and damn, Sheppard had a nice back. “You’re not going to ask if I’ve ever done before?”

Rodney snorted. “Do you really think I want to talk about the other people you’ve slept with right now?” He licked a long line up Sheppard’s spine. Sheppard’s skin was salty, and Rodney liked the way the bumps of his vertebrae felt against his tongue. He fumbled with the lubricant, popping open the cap with his thumb, and squirted some onto his first two fingers.

He’d never been in this particular situation before, but he had a pretty good idea where to start, especially when Sheppard started moaning, “Jesus,” and moving his hips in time to the stroking of Rodney’s fingers. It was hot. It was so fucking hot. Rodney could have come just from watching that.

“Fuck, oh fuck, McKay, stop messing around and fuck me already,” Sheppard cursed. He flexed around Rodney’s fingers, and a hot flash made Rodney shudder.

“I’m trying to rape you gently, you ungrateful lunatic,” Rodney said.

“Call me a cheap slut,” Sheppard insisted breathily.

He rolled on the condom. “If this wasn’t so hot, it would be terrifying. Where’d you learn all this, a Jenna Jameson movie?”

He pulled Sheppard up a little more, spreading Sheppard’s legs apart with his knee. Rodney pushed into him, carefully at first, and then harder. It was tight and hot, and he panted, open-mouthed, against the back of Sheppard’s neck. With his right hand, he groped until it bumped Sheppard’s cock. He wrapped his palm around it, jerking, and he could feel Sheppard coming from the inside out, the way he shuddered and gasped, and he went at it harder, faster, and then that was it, he was done.

*

When Rodney threw the condom on the floor, Sheppard half-leaned off the bed and said, “Hey, I just cleaned that.”

“Oh my God,” Rodney said, “I just raped you, didn’t I. I can’t believe I did that. What’s wrong with me? I am sick in the head.”

He scrambled into a sitting position, throat closing up. “I’m just as bad as Lucius, with his evil, gay-making potion. I totally date-raped you!”

“Yeah, probably,” Sheppard drawled. “I couldn’t say no. That was so hot.”

He rested his chin on Rodney’s shoulder. His lips were a little puffy and Rodney could feel his heartbeat racing, but he was glowing and languid. Only Sheppard could be this unbearably attractive after having been coerced into sex.

“Are you going to kill me when the drug leaves your system?” Rodney asked. “Or have Ronon kill me, rather. Or– I’ll turn myself in to Elizabeth. Right after I shower. And maybe eat some lunch. You’re not hurt, are you? Did I hurt you?”

“I was a little hurt you wouldn’t come on my face,” Sheppard said.

“I’m trying to have a serious talk about your sexual assult here,” Rodney snapped.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, next time you can do whatever I tell you to do, okay?”

“Next time?” Rodney repeated dumbly. He watched as Sheppard’s expression grew worried. That feeling of terror settled in his chest again, along with something that might have been wonder. “Holy crap. This is you normal. You have a– a thing for me.”

“I do not,” Sheppard said shiftily. “You know, actually, I am feeling a little raped.”

“You thought I was amazing even before I took the potion,” Rodney said, and this time when he thought about it, it didn’t seem crazy.

Sheppard pulled the sheets back and stood. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Rodney wrestled into his clothes. “You would’ve done this even without the drug, wouldn’t you?”

“I think it’s mac and cheese day,” Sheppard said.

Rodney followed him out into the corridor. “You have a filthy mouth, I like that,” he said to Sheppard as they passed Major Lorne, and Lorne threw him an odd look. Whatever; it wasn’t like he was so desperate as to care what Lorne thought about him.

“So you’re really okay?” he asked when they were in line.

“Rodney, I’m fine,” Sheppard said, sounding irritated.

They took their seats. “When can we do it again?” Rodney asked. He made sure to keep his voice low. “I mean, if you’re sure you’re not traumatized. Except maybe this time you can keep your disgusting fantasies to yourself. You haven’t let other people do those things to you, have you? Wait, on second thought, I don’t want to know.”

Sheppard’s eyes narrowed. “I think the potion’s wearing off. Suddenly I find you a lot more annoying.”

“It’s nice to know you consider it rape when it’s convenient for you,” Rodney said.

Rolling his eyes, Sheppard reached towards Rodney’s tray. Rodney smacked his hand. “Do you mind? Those are my french fries.”

“It was my innocence,” said Sheppard sadly.

“Take the fucking fries,” Rodney said.

*

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The title is a line from Justin Timberlake’s “Sexyback.” Don’t be a hater.

Thanks to Keri for being awesome. She did a lot to make this story all come together.

For the SGA Flashfic “exhaustion” challenge.

ex·haus·tion
1. The inability to respond to stimuli; extreme fatigue.
2. The act or an instance of using up a supply of something.

Summary: “It was just his luck to get stranded in a galaxy where he had to live in a wigwam and eat polar bear.” McKay/Sheppard, Alternate Timeline for 1×10 The Storm.

*

It wasn’t so much that Rodney blamed himself for not being able to save Atlantis — okay, that was a lie; he blamed himself, and he blamed Zelenka, and he even blamed Major Sheppard and Elizabeth. Rationally, he knew if he couldn’t think of a way to help the city ride out the storm, they sure as hell couldn’t either, but rationality didn’t take away the despair that had gnawed at him since the day they lost the city.

Most of all, Rodney blamed the Alterans for deciding to populate a planet covered in ninety percent ocean. And for deciding to live in a galaxy comprised of a) worlds populated by people who wanted the Atlantis expedition dead, and b) worlds with uninhabitable environments.

Six months into living on what was formally called P1X-91, and now called New Atlantica (named by Ford, naturally, and this time even Sheppard hadn’t been able to keep the name from catching), Rodney realized there was a third category: c) worlds that were probably uninhabited for a good reason.

“So let me get this straight,” he said to Sheppard, who was looking at him with puppy dog eyes, and who had the fur of some wildcat sewn into the lining of his grey jacket, “you want me to join your hunting party?”

Sheppard fidgeted. “It’s not so much a hunting party as a ’save our asses’ party.”

“What?” Rodney asked, startled. “I thought we had enough MRE’s to last us a while!”

“It has been ‘a while,’” Sheppard said patiently. He’d grown a lot more patient since they’d all become hippies. Rodney didn’t like it one bit. “We’ve almost exhausted our food supply. A couple of the guys and me want to head into the forest and see if we can find anything big enough to eat.”

“Is there going to be a famine? Jesus Christ, are we going to have to start rationing? Do you have any idea what’s in those woods? Do we even have any bullets left?” Rodney asked, waving his arms. He knew he was being a little hysterical, but dammit, someone had to be. They couldn’t all be one with nature like Sheppard and his merry band of ex-Marines.

“We have plenty of bullets,” Sheppard replied, and Rodney felt some of the tension drain from his body. But then Sheppard ruined it by scratched the back of his neck and adding, “Most of the guys though, they want to use the axes they made out of rocks and sticks.”

Rodney stared at Sheppard in horror. Sheppard just smiled back.

“Fuck no, you’re not going out there alone, I’ve seen this episode of Lost,” Rodney said. “But if anyone runs into a polar bear, I’m out of there faster than you can say ‘ JJ Abrams.’”

“I don’t know what that means,” Sheppard said. But when Rodney stretched out his fingers, Sheppard placed a well-used Beretta into his hand.

*

There were things on New Atlantica no one talked about. Once, Sergeant Bates had asked, “Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if the storm had never come?” and he’d been given a collective cold shoulder for a week. It was fine to talk about things they’d had, but no one talked about what might have been. No one talked about getting off New Atlantica. No one mentioned the Athosians, or Teyla, or what might’ve happened to them. (Rodney thought part of it was fear; everyone wanted to pretend Teyla and her people had survived the storm, but no one actually believed it.)

The first two or three days on the planet, no one, not even Rodney, had spoken a word. Later, Elizabeth had said it was just them adjusting to the change, but it was more than that. They had been silent because they had been in mourning: for the secrets left undiscovered, for the city herself, and for the faintest thread of hope — now completely extinguished — they’d ever get back to Earth.

Feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life, Rodney had sat in one the puddlejumpers, silently counting down the minutes until the storm had hit Atlantis. By the time it was all over, Elizabeth had been crying quietly, Ford had gone for a long walk by himself, and Sheppard had been gripping his hand so tightly he’d felt it for days after.

*

The hunting party met up at dawn the next day. Unfortunately, Sheppard was probably still busy fixing his hair with his homemade botanical hair gel, or whatever it was he used to still look ravishingly good despite living like the Amish — and not those fake Genii gun-totting Amish, either — so Rodney had arrived alone.

“Dr McKay, you’re coming?” Ford asked, sounding surprised.

“Great,” Bates said loudly, “now we’ll never find anything. McKay’ll scare away all the animals before we even get a chance to kill them.”

“Yes, I’d forgotten the part where you’re all burly mountain men trained in the art of hunting game,” Rodney scoffed. “Why do I get the feeling none of you have even been so much as camping.”

He looked right at Bates as he said this, who grimaced and looked away, and Rodney smirked knowingly.

Since their arrival on New Atlantica, both Ford and Bates had let their hair grow into short afros. Ford had lost his black cap chopping down trees to build their houses; Bates, like Sheppard and many others, had sewn fur into the lining of his jacket. Among the rest of the hunting expedition were Stackhouse and Markham, both sporting full-length beards, Zelenka, wearing an outfit made entirely out of the hemp material they traded another planet their pomegranate-like fruit for, and Yamato, who had shaved his head last week and reminded Rodney of a Buddhist priest. A mean, knife-wielding Buddhist priest.

“I see, you get bent of of shape for me being here, but you let Zelenka come?” Rodney demanded. Rodney had a hard time taking Zelenka seriously since he’d dreaded his hair. “He’s completely useless!”

“I am much quieter than you,” Zelenka said.

“A herd of stampeding buffalo’s quieter than you,” Yamato added.

“That is entirely untrue,” Rodney said angrily. “I came here out of the goodness of my heart to help our people, and–”

“Hey, Rodney!” Sheppard’s voice broke in, as Sheppard jogged onto their little meeting ground outside the longhouse. He was wearing his furry jacket again. “I was afraid you weren’t going to come.”

“The goodness of your heart?” Ford murmured, which made Markham and Zelenka snicker, and Bates look faintly disgusted. God knew what Bates thought was going on between Sheppard and him, but he’d never heard Sheppard correct anyone’s assumptions. Besides, Rodney would hope the idiots he’d been stranded with had more important things to do than wonder about his sex life, considering they were abandoned in another galaxy and all.

“What’s the plan, Lieutenant?” Sheppard asked, saving Rodney from any further humiliation.

Ford straightened his shoulders. “Sir, our mission is to find a source of food for the settlement. This includes bringing back any large animals we’re able to kill. Two teams of four will head into the forest, one bearing north, another south. We should be on the lookout for any unfamiliar creatures, which may be able to harm us, and any unfamiliar plants, which Dr McKay might be allergic to.”

“And you think no one likes you,” Sheppard said, playfully punching Rodney’s shoulder. Rodney scowled and moved away. “Alright, McKay, Ford, and Stackhouse, you’re on my team. Bates, you’re in charge of Markham, Zelenka, and Yamato. If anyone gets in any kind of trouble, fire your flares, and the other team will be there ASAP. Got it?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” the soldiers answered simultaneously.

“Sure,” Zelenka said.

“I guess,” said Rodney.

“Can we paint our faces, sir?” Ford asked. Everyone looked at him. He shrugged, looking sheepish. “I just thought it’d be cool. You know, like the Indians.”

“Knock yourself out,” Sheppard drawled. “You can even be Sitting Bull, if you want.”

“No way, I’m Black Panther,” Ford said.

“You’ve thought about this before,” Rodney said accusingly.

*

About two weeks into their new Swiss Family Robinson lives, they’d stopped living out of the puddlejumpers and started chopping down trees. Rodney had woken one morning to the sounds of saws and hammers. “What the hell’s going on?” he’d asked Sheppard, who had then conned Rodney into helping him set up his Native American wigwam. Corrigan and the other anthropologists had, naturally, drafted the designs themselves.

“I wish I’d never come to this galaxy,” Rodney had seethed, numb fingers slipping over the five-hundreth pole he’d pounded into the earth.

Sheppard hadn’t answered, but Rodney had known he’d felt the same way. Hours later, when the sun had been slipping down behind the mountains, and Rodney had felt like he could sleep for the next two days straight, Sheppard had announced, “I think we’re done.”

The house had been built out of thick poles, hammered deep into the ground, and bent with perpendicular poles. There had been a hole at the top so a fire could be built inside, and Sheppard had used one of the waterproof tents to cover the skeleton.

It had been tiny and ugly. It had leaned slightly to the left. Both of them had stood staring at it, posed in identical positions, hands on their respective hips.

“I guess it could be worse,” Sheppard had said, gazing up at the sloping wigwam with something like pride in his eyes. “Pretty good for our first try though! Tomorrow, we can help Ford with his.”

Rodney had said, “Wonderful. Did you know I was voted ‘Most Likely to Die in the Wilderness’ by my high school class? I wasn’t made for working outdoors, Major. How can you expect me to help build a hundred more of these?”

“You don’t have to build even one more, if you don’t want to,” Sheppard said, sounding unexpectedly embarrassed. “You want to room with me?”

That had shut Rodney up. He’d stared at Sheppard, who had been pointedly not looking back, and then at the house he’d built with his own two hands, and he had replied, “Sure. What could possibly go wrong?”

On Atlantis, those words would have been followed by something crazy and strange happening, like an alien tribe demanding a fertility ritual, or an Ancient device turning someone into a zombie. But on New Atlantica, the only thing unusual that happened was that a few days later, the entire expedition — township, now — grouped together to build a longhouse. Rodney would never admit it in a million years, but he kind of missed the crazy.

*

An hour into their hunting mission, it began to rain. Of course, Rodney thought, fuming. He hated nature so, so much. It was just his luck to get stranded in a galaxy where he had to live in a wigwam and eat polar bear.

“You know what I miss?” Sheppard asked suddenly.

Shocked, Rodney spun around to gape at Sheppard, who was glaring at something in the distance. Not surprisingly, he was just as hot wet as he was dry. “You– what do you miss?” Rodney asked tentatively. He didn’t know what he’d do if Sheppard said he missed football, or that sweet tea from P4X-778, or Teyla. Sheppard had hardly spoken of Atlantis since they’d set foot on the planet. Of course, Sheppard hadn’t spoken much of Earth when they’d been in Atlantis, either. Maybe it was Sheppard’s way of coping.

Sheppard’s expression darkened. “Umbrellas.”

“That’s a stupid thing to miss,” Rodney said without thinking. Sheppard blinked at him, and it occurred to Rodney that Sheppard was possibly baring his soul, in the only retarded way he knew how. “I, uh, miss jello.”

Sheppard smirked. “That’s a stupid thing to miss, too.”

“Yeah, well,” Rodney said, brushing the raindrops out of his eyes. “I’m a simple man. I have simple needs.”

Sheppard snorted so loudly Ford turned, putting a finger over his closed lips.

“Sir,” Stackhouse hissed, “I think I see something. Five ‘o’ clock.”

Sheppard went still, and he grabbed Rodney’s shoulder, too, as if Rodney would make any sudden movements when they had an edible animal in their mist. Rodney didn’t believe for a second Sheppard actually knew how to hunt, but Sheppard had always had a habit of doing something perfect on the first try. Normally, that sort of natural skill pissed Rodney off, but in the case of fresh meat, he’d gladly overlook it.

Ford said quietly, “There’s two groups of them. One still at five ‘o’ clock, and the other at three ‘o’ clock.”

“I’ve got the one at five,” Sheppard said, and took off running.

“Goddamn it, Sheppard,” Rodney called to his rapidly-disappearing back. “You’re going to get maimed! And who will have to clean you up? Me, that’s who.”

Ford and Stackhouse exchanged glances. “Why don’t you go after the major,” Ford said. “We’ll get the targets bearing north.”

“Of course, send the civilian by himself,” Rodney said, but he left anyway.

Sheppard was a little dot in the distance, and Rodney went off after him. From behind, he heard Stackhouse say, “That guy’s gonna get us killed one of these days.”

“Which one?” Ford asked wearily.

*

They had set up their township in the middle of a valley that had a river running through it. When they had first arrived, Rodney’s calculations had put this area of the planet in the middle of a hot, sweltering summer, around thirty-five degrees Celsius. Several types of fruits and vegetables grew naturally in the valley, and they strongly resembled vegetation on Earth: olives, pomegranates, pears, eggplants, lettuce, and onions. There were also a scattering of small animals throughout the region, namely the cats Sheppard and everyone else kept killing for their fur. As it was, Rodney had a hard time killing helpless kitties, even if they were the size of dogs and had claws as long as his fingers.

The construction of the wigwams and longhouse seemed to shake most people out of their stupor. Beckett went a little nuts and went off-world for two weeks; when he came back from whatever hippie planet he’d gone to, he had begun using holistic means of healing instead of the typical methods. (Rodney had thought what Beckett had done before was voodoo. Oh no, he had been wrong. He had been so wrong.) Much to Rodney’s chagrin, Sheppard had taken three Marines and left Rodney behind while he had gone back to their old trading partners, and he had found some who hadn’t minded trading food for small items such as soap, cloth, candles, and wool. Elizabeth and the anthropologists had started to have lots of meetings behind closed doors, the likes of which Rodney hadn’t even wanted to know about.

While other people had busied themselves with farming, weaving, and other forms of basic survival, Rodney had mapped out what types of technology he could create from what very little they had.

He had decided to begin with an irrigation system. The farms a few of the soldiers had set up were tiny, barely allowing for more than substanence crops. Rodney had thought he could do better. He had managed to drag Zelenka and Miko out to the river with him so he could take some measurements, but neither of them had been up to par lately.

Kneeling on the ground at the river bank, Rodney had looked over his shoulder. “Zelenka, I need you to–”

“You will refer to me as ‘Sunshine,’” Zelenka had said, laying flat on the ground. Miko had giggled. “It is my new Pegasus name.”

Rodney had pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told them we didn’t need to take the fucking biologists along, smoking their weed and listening to their ‘Freebird,’” he had said to himself. “This will set me behind for at least a few hours.”

Needless to say, it had taken Rodney a few weeks longer than usual to get the irrigation pumps working. By that time, Miko and Zelenka had been detoxing hard, violently cursing the biologists. Rodney had asked Elizabeth to outlaw recreational drug use, but she’d said, “Rodney, I can’t tell people what they can and cannot do with their own bodies.” Rodney had figured the biologists had gotten to her, too.

*

John followed the deer — they weren’t really deer; they were red instead of brown, and they had tusks instead of antlers, but his mind couldn’t help but supply ‘deer’ when he looked at them — deeper into the woods. From their calm, graceful gallop, he didn’t think they’d seen him.

When the animals reached a small clearing, they stopped, and a younger, smaller one joined them. John ducked behind a tree, relaxing letting his P-90 hang against his chest in its sling.

As he watched as the two adults — Ricky and Lucy, he decided, and the baby was Little Ricky — nuzzled each other, he felt a strange sense of tranquility. They were strong, beautiful creatures, and if they could survive on this world, in the middle of a deadly galaxy, his people could too. Maybe it was time to let go of Atlantis, and of Earth, and to embrace whatever life came for them on this planet. Life could be good here. He felt his heart swell as–

A series of shots were fired, and all three deer fell over dead.

John gaped, and continued gaping as Rodney came out of the bush. “Ha!” he said. “And they thought I’d be useless on this mission. In your face, Bates.”

“You killed the deer,” John said, taken aback.

Rodney beamed. “I sure did.”

“But I named them,” John said sadly, staring into Little Ricky’s cold, dead eyes.

Rodney lifted Lucy over his shoulders. “Sheppard, stop being such a homo and pick up Bambi before his blood soaks into the moss.”

*

Rodney and Sheppard weren’t the only ones to bring back deer for dinner; Ford and Stackhouse brought two more, and Bates, Yamato, and Markham brought one each. Zelenka didn’t get any himself, but he didn’t seem too upset over it.

“I shot three,” Rodney told him smugly, watching proudly as Stackhouse and Bates spited one and the biologists ran around trying to salt the rest for later. It was nice knowing he’d done something for the community that didn’t involve using his incredibly impressive brain.

“Good for you,” Zelenka said. “You are a master at shooting defenseless woodland creatures.”

Rodney scowled. “Don’t make light of my manliness. You’re impressed by my manly hunting skills, aren’t you, Major?” Rodney asked.

“I’d be more impressed if they hadn’t been standing around waiting to get shot,” Sheppard said.

“Your lips says ‘no,’ but your eyes say ‘yes,’” Rodney said, smirking.

“I have asked you not to talk about your sex life in front of me, please. It is uncomfortable for us all,” Zelenka said, leaving them and ambling over to where Miko and Simpson were passing out the beer they’d made using their own home-grown barley.

“Sex life?” Sheppard repeated.

“For a hippie, he’s unusually uptight,” Rodney said, frowning.

Rodney lost Sheppard to the crowd as Elizabeth dragged Sheppard away, and Rodney was grabbed by several of the scientists, who demanded to know just how he’d killed three deer. He relished the dismayed look on Gall’s and Kavanagh’s faces as they realized he had, indeed, accomplished it on his own. Somewhere along the way, Simpson handed him a large glass of beer, Stackhouse gave him a hefty plate of deer meat, and by the time people started dancing and singing around the fire, he’d found Sheppard again, sitting by himself against a log.

Rodney collapsed beside him. He liked the way the fire softened Sheppard’s features, even if Sheppard was too good-looking for his own good. “This is the perfect evening,” he said. He drowned the rest of his beer.

“Almost perfect,” Sheppard said, bumping Rodney’s knee with his.

“Almost perfect,” Rodney agreed, thinking of Atlantis, and Teyla, and everything they’d left behind.

But Sheppard surprised him: “Yeah. You could get laid.”

Rodney gestured to the rest of their people. “Right. And with whom, Major?”

Sheppard’s eyes narrowed, and it took nearly five solid minutes for what Sheppard said to hit him. His heart fluttered in his chest, and his throat was suddenly very dry. “Yeah?” he asked a little squeakily.

Sheppard smirked. “Well, I was thinking. You did do some manly killing today. And Elizabeth told me just now that maybe it’s time we stopped following Earth’s rules and made our own. My bed’s made of straw and yak skin, but it’s big enough for two.”

Rodney put his hand over Sheppard’s. “You had me at ‘yak,’” he said.

*

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: The scene that was totally missing from the end of X3.

When Magneto enters the grocery store, he ignores the temptation of the candy aisle and marches right up to the counter, where the humans buy their cancerous cigarettes and their worthless batteries. The store is blissfully empty of the vermin known as men, except the man seated at the register, reading Us Weekly.

“Who is in charge of this establishment?” Magneto demands.

The pudgy man behind the counter raises an eyebrow. “That’d be me.”

“Puny human,” Magneto says, wishing his had his cape rather than this infernal trenchcoat¹, “I have come here– nay, I have been forced here by your feeble society’s foolish habit of using money in exchange for services.”

“What?” the man asks.

“I saw your help wanted sign on the door,” Magneto explains.

“You live at the old folks’ home down the street?” the manager asks.

Magneto declares, “Idiot! I have not yet been confined in your prison for elders. I live at the YMCA.”

The guy looks him over. Magneto clenches his fists as this creature’s eyes judge him. He remembers a time when this man would have been begging for mercy. “What’s your name?”

“I am Magneto, Erik the Red, the White King of the Hellfire Club,” he boasts, puffing out his chest. “I am known to some as Erik Magnus Lehnsherr.”

“Okay, Mr Lehnsherr,” says the shop owner. “You been a bag boy before?”

“I have nearly exterminated your kind at least five times. I have led armies across your vile nation. I have survived a Nazi death camp. I have seen things that would have you longing for the escape of death. Surely I can master this thing you call ‘bagging.’”

The man frowns at that. “My Grandpa Max was in a concentration camp. He’d roll over in his grave if he thought I was making a Holocaust survivor live on the street.” His hands move under the counter, and he removes a series of papers. He looks almost sympathetic. Magneto barely catches himself from recoiling in horror.

“You got a social security number?”

“I have a number,” Magneto says. “I do not remember whose it is.”

The manager stares.

“Mine’s probably in my safety deposit box at the bank,” Magneto says, thinking. “I will have to call my ex to see if she remembers which bank it is. It might take several weeks. I put it there quite some time ago.”²

“Okay,” the man says, scratching his head. “Uh, come back tomorrow at noon and we’ll get you started. Try to bring some kind of ID with you. You’re not an illegal, are you?”

“In what way?” Magneto enquires.

“Nevermind.”

Magneto cautiously shakes the human’s disgusting hand — thankfully, his hands are protected by the black mittens the widow across the hall knitted him last week — before he departs. As he stands in the doorway, it hits him: tomorrow he will begin his job bagging groceries for homo sapiens.

“Thank you, human,” he calls over his shoulder. “Perhaps I will not kill you when I regain my powers.”³

And Magneto walks back out onto the cold, harsh streets of New York.

*

¹ Actually, he loves the trenchcoat. It brings out his eyes.

² Last time he talked to Mystique, she told him to go fuck himself and stop calling him. At least he didn’t waste any of his free weekend minutes on her, that bitch.

³ A week into the job, he changes his mind. But first he will kill every single person in the government for taking such large amounts of his paycheques. Magneto only makes six fifty an hour, he is not made of money.

For Madelyn’s Cuff ‘Em, Vamp ‘Em, or Just Make ‘Em Come Already Kink and Cliché Multi-Fandom Challenge, I was given the choice between: a) Undercover Lover/have to pretend to be dating; b) I’m Confused, We Didn’t Have Non-Reproductive Sex On My Home Planet;
c) Magical themes (love spells; magical characters or creatures; magical lands or settings; predictions; curses; possession; fairytales; magical girls; see also Special powers and skills). I decided to do all three.

A diplomatic mission has lasting consequences for Elizabeth and Ronon. Featuring alien wildlife, fake marriages, witch hunts, Elizabeth/Ronon, Sheppard/McKay, and Teyla/Other(s). General spoilers for Seasons One and Two.

Chapter One

I.

The great city of Smelding, on the planet of Smeldinga, in the solar system of Smeldingopia, sat at the fork of two wide canals. From her first step out of the stargate, Elizabeth had seen the white stone towers looming in the distance, and while Smelding was much smaller than any major city on Earth, John’s team had reported it was heavily populated for the Pegasus Galaxy. The walls of the city were also cut from white stone, with pillars every hundred feet or so; on the tops of these rested statues of animals that looked exactly like small, hairless dogs with bat wings. It was more than a little unsettling.

“Those looks like the pet Zelenka’s always showing us pictures of,” Ronon said. “McKay calls it a ‘fugly.’”

“What a beautiful city,” Elizabeth quickly told their guide: a short, tanned man who hadn’t given them his name. She avoided gazing at the stone creatures as they approached the gate. They did look an awful lot like Zelenka’s dog back on Earth, who had the unfortunate name of Félix de Azara.

“Smelding is very special to us,” said their guide. “It was established over a thousand years ago, during a time in which many of our people consider our golden era. Before then, Smelding consisted of several separate farming communities.”

There was a series of lines carved into the stone pillars. Elizabeth recognized the language as a variant of Ancient, but she could only make out a few words, and none of them were positive. “Please, what does it say?” she asked, indicating the writing.

Their guide said, “It’s been there since the founding of the city. ‘No witches or other agents of darkness may pass through these gates, on penalty of death.’.”

“That’s…”

“Creepy,” Ronon cut in.

Elizabeth threw him a look. Ronon quirked an eyebrow at her, not looking sorry in the least. “Do you get many… agents of darkness here?” she asked their guide, who smiled at her thinly.

“Not many, but it does happen. Enough for us to feel it’s necessary to include a warning to those who might wish us harm. They come anyway, usually through the gate of the Ancestors, but this helps us feel safe. We may not suffer from the Wraith, but we have plenty of other problems.”

Elizabeth understood that all too well. She and Ronon exchanged glances as the gate doors slowly began opening. “How do you know if someone’s a witch?” Ronon asked.

“Oh, you know,” the guide said, waving a vague hand, “a woman who is unmarried, who does too much on her own, who is seen with many men, who has unusual luck — those are usually the indicators of dark arts.”

Beside her, Ronon stiffened. Three of the soldiers accompanying them remained blank, but the eyes of one widened. “Because in your culture,” Elizabeth said slowly, more for her benefit than the guide’s, “those things are considered bad.”

“Mostly they’re just an annoyance,” said their guide said. He grinned again, this time sincerely. “But we still kill witches for it.”

The doors finished creaking open. As Ronon passed her, he squeezed her shoulder and whispered, “Stay calm. I promised Sheppard I wouldn’t let them burn you at the stake.”

Elizabeth blinked at Ronon’s huge back as he, their guide, and their military escorts started making their way into the city.

“Well,” she murmured to herself, gazing up at the chihuahuas, “this is going to end badly.”

*

II.

Two months after Smelding.

As time went on, the planets started to get stranger and stranger. That was not to say the world with the bald, blue-painted monks from a mission in October had been more weird than the planet with the giant voles in September, but at least the voles hadn’t tried to eat them. John still had a scary scar on his leg from where one of the monks had slathered him in marinade and bitten him. (“I’m the only one allowed to call you delicious,” Rodney had said while John was on his fifth bath of the day, “and why is the bite mark on your upper thigh?”) Needless to say, no diplomatic negotiations were made on that particular excursion.

Nor were negotiations made on the world that freakishly resembled eighteenth century England, the one where they worshiped seagulls, or the one where they lived underground and were starting to resemble rats.

In the past few months, no team had been successful in establishing diplomatic relations with other civilizations. So John wasn’t very optimistic when he and his team walked through the stargate and onto P2X-181. Especially when there was nothing but rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

“Do you see any signs of civilization?” Rodney asked, gesturing towards something that may or may not have been a miniature bison. “Because all I see is nature. You know how much I hate nature.”

Ronon sniffed the air. “What planet is this?”

John started, “P2X–”

“No, the name,” Ronon interrupted.

“It was once the homeworld of the Grogorians,” Teyla replied.

Ronon grunted. “While we’re here, I need to kill a glaat.”

“A who?” Rodney asked, looking up from his life signs detector.

“A glaat,” Ronon repeated, pointing to the tiny bison. “I need to make a baby blanket.”

“Alright,” John said slowly. He glanced at Teyla.

“Why are you looking at me?” she demanded.

“No reason,” he said promptly. He slipped on his sunglasses, feeling the heat of her glare on the back of his neck.

Rodney nudged him with his elbow. “Well, Colonel,” he said in a voice he probably thought was quiet, “looks like Worf beat you to knocking up some space bimbo.”

John scowled. “Hey! I’ve only slept with two women in this galaxy, and one of them was a giant, glowing squid.”

Teyla wrinkled her nose. Ronon said, “Gross.”

“Don’t judge me,” John said.

*

An hour passed, and they still hadn’t come across any people. Thankfully, they hadn’t come across any other forms of intelligent life either. (John was still having nightmares about voles. And blue monks, but for entirely different reasons.) As they walked north of the stargate, the rolling hills and grass grew into red cliffs and sagebrush that reminded John of New Mexico. Unlike New Mexico, the air here was cool and damp, and there was standing water in a few places. Herds of glaat scattered like scarily large cockroaches as Rodney’s complaints echoed through the canyon. Ronon watched the creatures with narrowed eyes.

“This mission bites,” Ronon said. John couldn’t remember if he’d taught Ronon that word, or if it was the Marines. “Can I go kill a glaat now?”

“No,” John said, and Ronon grumbled under his breath. John missed the good old days when Ronon used to do whatever he told him to.

Rodney sighed miserably. “I’m not picking up any unusual energy readings,” he said, waving the life signs detector around. “I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say this planet’s uninhabited.”

Teyla cocked her head. “According to my people, the entire Gregorian population was culled several generations ago.”

“My people used to say the same thing,” Ronon added.

“If we leave now, we can make it back in time for dinner,” Rodney said eagerly. Ronon grunted in approval.

John glared. “When did you guys get so lazy?”

“When I started noticing a disturbing trend in which planets that appear to be uninhabited usually are indeed inhabited by people who want us dead,” Rodney replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We met Ronon on an uninhabited world,” said John.

“My point,” Rodney said.

“I only wanted you dead for a little bit,” Ronon said gruffly.

Teyla called, “Colonel.”

He walked over to her side. She pointed to the canyon walls. “These appear to be cave paintings.”

She was right; the paintings were faded, and in organic-looking red, white, and dark brown colours, like ones he’d seen in history books. Most were of little stick people riding glaats, along with pictures of spears, clouds, and unidentifiable animals. They looked pretty old, but there was no telling.

John glanced over his shoulder. Rodney and Ronon were arguing over which flavour of powerbar was the best, or something. He asked, “Ronon? How’d you happen to know about these glaat things?”

Ronon broke off in the middle of lecturing Rodney on the superiority of raspberry bars. “It’s a rite of passage among my people. When a man’s having a baby–” Rodney made a choking noise, and Ronon bared his teeth. “–He comes here and kills a glaat.”

“Did your people ever happen to mention if they met any of these Gregorians while glaat hunting?”

Ronon gave him a vacant look. “It’s not a rite of passage if everyone knows how to do it.”

“Right,” John said tiredly.

*

III.

Three months after Smelding.

The day they found out what Ronon’s deal was, Teyla caught her laptop on fire, four Marines got stuck in a lower level chamber, and Rodney and Zelenka had some kind of crazy falling out — something about Zelenka letting it slip to Katie Brown that Rodney and Carson had been referring to her as “Princess Sparklepants” since the infamous dinner date — all before lunch. John just wanted the day to be over already, but his team still had a debriefing with Elizabeth about their upcoming mission.

Amazingly, Rodney was already in the briefing room when John sauntered in. Elizabeth was there as well, playing Solitare on her tablet. John was suspicious; Rodney was never on time for anything. “You still mad at Zelenka?” he asked quietly.

“That diabolical little gnome,” Rodney hissed, clenching his fists where they rested on the table.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Teyla came in next, eyebrows still a little singed. Her hands were bandaged.

“What the hell happened to you?” Rodney demanded.

Teyla’s jaw tightened. “No one informed me you should not have a lamp, a fan, a hot plate, a blowdryer, and a laptop plugged in to the same power bar and running at the same time.”

“So that’s what that power surge was,” Rodney said thoughtfully.

Teyla looked to be on the verge of batting Rodney with her mummified hands when Ronon wandered into the room carrying a lumpy, handwoven sack. He slumped in a chair next to Teyla, slamming the sack — which actually didn’t look much like a sack, now that John looked at it, but rather a bunch of knotted rope — on the table.

“What do you have there?” Rodney asked, peering at it as if he hoped it was filled with food.

“Baby hammock,” Ronon said.

“Ah, yes, I can see it matches the glaat skin blanket,” Rodney said hotly. “Who had to die to procure you this baby item?”

“No one died when I got the glaat,” Ronon said.

“We barely escaped with our lives!”

John rolled his eyes and glanced at Elizabeth, expecting to see a hilariously confused expression on her face, but instead she was staring hard at the table. “Gentlemen,” she said, a little more harshly than usual.

Ronon and Rodney both stopped, blinking at her.

“Teyla,” Elizabeth asked, looking up, “do you want to stand down on this mission?”

Only Teyla could appear completely serious when she said, “I do not need my hands to kill.”

Rodney’s knee nudged John under the table, and John interpreted the look Rodney sent him as a hint they’d continue those private conversations about what he was and wasn’t trained to do. For someone who thought the military was full of idiots, Rodney certainly thought soldiers were hot. Or maybe just Air Force officers. “I’m pretty sure I need my hands to kill people,” he scribbled on Rodney’s tablet, angling it so Rodney could read. A corner of Rodney’s mouth curved downwards in disappointment.

Passing notes to Rodney made him miss Elizabeth getting to her feet, so when she paled and grabbed the edge of the table, he barely caught her as she started to drop. Ronon and Teyla jumped up as Rodney tapped his earpiece and said, “Carson? Carson, we need you in the briefing room right now, Elizabeth’s–”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted. John watched worriedly as she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

Rodney was frantic. “When did you last eat? Do you need to lie down? A glass of water? Someone get her a glass of water!”

“This isn’t something that can be cured by any of those,” Elizabeth replied.

Something horrible fluttered in John’s stomach. Was she dying? How long had she kept this a secret? He stared at her, wide-eyed, unable to think of any words that would make this okay.

“Oh my god,” Rodney said as they resettled into their seats. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “What do you have?”

“A baby,” she replied.

“What?” John, Rodney, and Teyla asked simultaneously.

Elizabeth’s mouth formed a tight line. “I’m pregnant.”

Everyone in the room turned to stare at Ronon, who leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms behind his head, and smirked.

“No fucking way,” Rodney said.

*

Chapter Two

I.

Even though John tried his damndest not to think about Elizabeth and Ronon and just how she’d gotten pregnant, it was hard to avoid the elephant in the room. He had assumed Elizabeth and Ronon’s relationship began in exactly the opposite way of his own; he and Rodney had gone from post-suicide run arguments to heavy petting on the Daedalus to stealth sex around Atlantis before they realized there weren’t many people outside themselves they could actually stand to be around. Rodney’s abortive date with Katie Brown did nothing but prove this to both of them, something even John had resigned himself to.

Conversely, Elizabeth was big on learning about new cultures, and John figured Ronon had probably seduced her using some kind of Satedan mating ritual that may or may not have including killing things and flexing his muscles. John saw him do these two things quite regularly, and they were pretty impressive. And by “pretty impressive,” he meant “extremely hot.”

Subconsciously, John had drawn a line between the two relationships. If his first time with Rodney had been toe-curlingly passionate, Ronon and Elizabeth’s first time must’ve been sweet and romantic. It had probably included rose petals and declarations and mood lighting. Even if Ronon wasn’t that kind of guy, Elizabeth was, and John knew the lengths a guy would go to get laid.

*

In actuality, it went like this:

First, John’s team had come running back through the stargate, John shouting, “Close the gate, close the gate!” as soon as all four of them had made it inside. A single arrow had clattered to the floor right as the gate powered down. That in itself had not been unusual; three out of four missions for this team ended in violence or threats of violence or strange alien phenomena that later led to violence. However, during the post-mission debriefing, Elizabeth learned John and Rodney accidentally insulted the king of P1J-45 by laughing in his face, and shortly after that, Teyla had had an “accident” of her own when she kicked one of the king’s guards. The head of his guards, in fact, and she had kicked him in the balls because he’d offended her.

Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Tell me you didn’t just say what I think you just said.”

She felt a headache coming on when John gave her one of his innocent, wide-eyed smiles. “She slipped.”

“And when you punched the other guard in the face, that was just you ’slipping’?”

“No, that was on purpose,” John said.

She sucked in an exasperated breath. “Need I remind you, Smelding is one of the few civilizations we know of which the Wraith have left completely untouched?” she demanded. “Did you even get around to asking them how they accomplished this before attacking them?”

“I managed to get a few energy readings, but there wasn’t anything significant about them,” Rodney said with a careless wave of his hand. “Although they were pretty open about what they thought kept the Wraith away.”

“Oh, and what was that?” Elizabeth asked.

Rodney huffed. “Just your garden-variety, god-fearing fanaticism. They believe their relationship with their gods keep them safe. Unlike the planet run by Peter Pan’s Lost Boys, M7G-677, there was nothing on P1J-45 to indicate they’re employing a shield or cloaking device of any kind. Truthfully, I think they’re holding out on us.”

“And now we might never find out what’s keeping the Wraith at bay,” she said tightly.

John lowered his head. Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and stared icily at his laptop. Teyla managed to look both ashamed and dignified all at once. Ronon picked his nails with a knife. Not for the first time, she looked at the four of them and saw why Colonel Caldwell hadn’t believed her when she’d first told him this team saved Atlantis on a regular basis (although Caldwell had been quite rude about it; “Major Sheppard’s the guy with the funny hair, right? The one who tried to blow himself up?”). She knew they all took the Wraith very seriously, but sometimes she felt like the only adult in the city.

“Maybe we can go back,” Ronon said. Elizabeth frowned at him. Surely she hadn’t just seen him slip the knife into his dreads.

“If you return, it will be without me,” Teyla said stiffly. “I do not appreciate their views on women. It is demeaning.”

John leaned his elbows on the table. “We don’t like it either, Teyla.” He looked at Elizabeth apologetically. “They’re kind of… old fashioned.”

Rodney snorted. “Like seventeenth century old fashioned.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Ronon said to Teyla. “You and McKay make a good couple.”

John, with a pinched look, said, “No one’s marrying anybody, Ronon,” just as Rodney said, “Ha, I should be so lucky,” and Teyla hissed, “I am not interested in becoming a tool for the patriarchy.” Elizabeth was fairly certain the last part was a repeat of something she’d told Teyla a few weeks ago, after Teyla had made the mistake of referring to Simon as Elizabeth’s “former husband.”

“Enough,” Elizabeth shouted. They fell silent. “I’ll see if I can get the king to re-open negotiations.”

John started, “Elizabeth.”

“No.” She held up a hand. “This is not open for discussion. If Smelding has technology to keep out the Wraith, we need to find out if they’re willing to share it. And we can’t do that by kicking the king’s guards in their– in their private parts.”

Teyla frowned. “I did not kick him in a private part, I kicked him in the testicles. Besides, he deserved it. He said Dr McKay was a poor choice for a husband.”

“That cad,” Rodney agreed. Both John and Ronon rolled their eyes.

Elizabeth wasn’t stupid; she knew there were things — a lot of things — they left out of their mission reports. It had stopped making her angry when she had realized there were just some things she didn’t want to know. She ignored this comment much like she ignored Teyla’s apparent marriage to Rodney. The explanation probably wasn’t worth the pain.

“Okay,” John said finally. He raised his chin stubbornly. “We’ll go back and see what we can do. I think the king was starting to like me; maybe I can convince him kicking someone in the junk is just our way of saying hi.”

Arching a brow, Elizabeth said, “Actually, no, John, I’d rather you not be there. I’d offer suggestions to your diplomatic methods, but frankly, I think you’d end up sleeping with ambassadors, or their brothers, or husbands, and then we’d have an incident on our hands.”

“That would be very unfortunate,” Teyla agreed. Ronon looked almost perplexed.

John’s forehead wrinkled. “Amba–” he cut off, then slowly, slowly turned his head to glare at Rodney.

Rodney scoffed, “P4X-55? I’m just saying.”

“That was over a year ago,” John growled.

Before John and Rodney could start at it, Elizabeth opened the door to her office. She called, “Chuck, please radio Lieutenant Miller and tell him to prep his team for contact.” This would take every skill she’d ever cultivated at the UN. She squared her shoulders. “And bring me my red lipstick.”

*

It wasn’t difficult to get the king of P1J-45 to change his mind. An apology here, a compliment there, the mention of the fight against the Wraith, and Elizabeth (via Corporal Smith, who’d carried a laptop and a webcam all the way to Smelding) was invited to dine with the king.

“I don’t like it,” John said. “There’s something wrong with that planet. We met with over ten different people, and none of them gave us their names.”

She said, “Yes, John, let’s blow them up for not telling us their names. That’s a wonderful idea.”

He lit up for a second before he slumped down in his chair, defeated. “Fine, but I’m going with you.”

“Absolutely not,” she ordered.

His eyes narrowed.

*

A day later, their nameless guide led them through winding, cobblestone streets. The few people out and about about ducked into buildings as they passed; Elizabeth wondered if they were afraid of all strangers, or just them specifically. The witch comments from earlier were making her apprehensive, but Smelding was an impressive city, she had to give them that. Even Miller’s team looked awed at the markets and the fruit trees and the fountains, and they’d seen much more of this galaxy than her.

But the palace… the palace was amazing. It was like every fantasy she’d ever had as a little girl, playing princess. It was hundred-foot ceilings and lavish carpets and gorgeous paintings and winding towers. If there were ponies, Elizabeth might lose her cool.

The guide’s tour of the castle was interrupted by the approach of an eggplant-robed man. “This is the head servant,” said the guide said as an introduction. No names, Elizabeth noted. “He is preparing your meeting with the king.”

The servant bowed his head. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she was supposed to reciprocate the gesture, but she did, just to be safe. “How many rooms will be necessary for tonight?” the servant asked.

There was something in the way both he and the guide were looking at her that made her pause. But she didn’t have to make a decision; Ronon took a step forward and sideways, so he was standing in front of her, and said, “Two soldiers per room, and one room for her and me.”

“This is your husband?” the guide asked her, sounding surprised.

“Yes,” Ronon growled.

Elizabeth did a double-take, but Ronon sent her a pointed look. “Yes,” she said, turning back to the guide, glad her shock wasn’t evident in her voice, “I’m sorry, I should’ve mentioned it from the beginning.”

“You didn’t bring her with you last time,” the guide said to Ronon, frowning.

“My wife’s too important to come on first contact missions,” Ronon said flatly, slowly crossing his bulging biceps over his chest.

Threatened, their guide took a step back. “Ah, yes, I see.”

Elizabeth wasn’t sure what her face looked like, but the expression on Miller’s was almost comical.

The servant bowed again and trotted off. Their guide went back to his lecture, but Elizabeth lingered behind.

“What are you doing?” she whispered to Ronon.

“Remember what they said earlier?” he asked out of the side of his mouth. “When Teyla said she wasn’t married, they thought she was a witch. McKay had to pretend to be her fiance so they wouldn’t kill her.”

Suddenly that part of the conversation from the briefing room made more sense. “I bet that was fun,” she muttered.

Ronon snorted. “Yeah, right. I was the one stuck sharing a room with Sheppard. He spent the whole night complaining about how McKay doesn’t appreciate him. I had to pretend I heard something outside just to get away.”

She had to chuckle at that. When the guide turned to look at her, she covered it with a cough.

*

Not long after, their guide stopped them at a closed door at the end of a long hallway. “This is where I leave you,” he said. He bowed to her, and to her surprise, to Ronon too. “I will return to escort you back to the gate of the Ancestors when it’s time to leave. Unless you’re a witch, in which case, I will see you again at your execution.”

Elizabeth let out a surprised laugh. Ronon muttered something under his breath.

The doors opened to a room that was completely bare except for a grand throne, on which sat a chubby, dark-haired man who may have been in his early fifties. Much to her disappointment, he wasn’t wearing a crown and cape, but instead a wreath and a long, yellow toga. There was a haughtiness in his eyes that reminded her of every UN delegate she’d ever negotiated with, the kind of look that said, “You may be the richest and most powerful nation on Earth, but we have nuclear weapons and we’re not afraid to use them.”

“Hello, Dr Elizabeth Weir and guests,” he said grandly. “I am the king of Smelding.”

She stepped forward. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, King…” She waited for him to give her his name. He just stared at her. “Um, King.”

“Thank you for properly punishing your insubordinate soldiers for insulting me and harming my royal protectorate,” he said.

“Ah, yes,” she fibbed, “I’m very sorry for what transpired here earlier. As I said before, we’ve returned because we believe you may have something to help us in our fight against the Wraith.”

He looked down his nose at her. “Of course. Smelding would be happy to assist in any way we can.”

That was suspiciously easy. Elizabeth smiled tightly. Ronon said, “Hmm.”

Dinner went smoothly. In typical diplomatic fashion, Elizabeth and the Smeldingian king discussed the weather, gossiped about their mutual allies, complimented each other’s wealth, and didn’t mention how John’s team had beaten the royal guard and then had been chased back to the gate, screaming. Graciously, Elizabeth asked the king to give the cook their regards, even though both the food and the water had a strange penny-like aftertaste. Ronon made a face every time he took a bite, and Miller’s team barely touched any of it, but Elizabeth made sure to eat enough so as not to cause offense.

It was over an hour before they came back to the subject of the Wraith. Elizabeth mentioned some of the problems they’d had (sieges, hive queens, turning into bugs); the king brought up cullings he’d read in history books.

Elizabeth said, “Please tell us why the Wraith don’t cull your people.”

“It’s because of the Instrument of Eternal Life,” the king boasted. When he grinned, there was a blueish line along his gums.

She wasn’t familiar with that term. She glanced at Ronon to see if he recognized it, but his face was blank. “The Instrument of Eternal Life?”

The king stood, beckoning them to follow. “Come, I’ll show you.”

*

The Instrument of Eternal Life was not a musical instrument. It wasn’t a computer, or a machine, or a large weapon with which to take down Hive ships. Rather, it appeared to be a small, curved blade with a black handle. It sat on a white stone dais in the centre of an empty room not unlike the king’s audience chamber, a light shining down on it like it was a priceless museum artifact.

Elizabeth found her voice. “How does this, uh, Instrument keep the Wraith away?”

“We stab people with it,” replied the king.

“I stab people all the time, and the Wraith still come,” Ronon said.

Elizabeth winced, but turned it into a smile as the king turned to her. He held a finger in the air. “Ah, yes, but the Instrument of Eternal Life isn’t simply a knife. It’s a gift to our people from the god of Oblivion; in return for our protection, he asks we use the Instrument to keep the city free from the influence of evil.”

“Witches,” Elizabeth stated. She didn’t have a good feeling about that. She had teams who’d been to plenty of misogynistic worlds where women were oppressed; it wasn’t all that uncommon among civilizations less advanced than their own — even though she hated to use the term “less advanced,” because no matter how advanced the society, there were always men who hated women somewhere, in every galaxy. One thing her line of work taught her was that the differences between the beliefs of the majority of the Pegasus Galaxy and the Atlanteans’ own customs weren’t necessarily bad or good — they were just different — but it still made her blood boil, knowing there were people who looked down on women, down on her, for no reason other than gender.

The king nodded sagely. “Thanks to this agreement, we haven’t suffered from the Wraith in eight hundred years.”

“How often do you have to use it?” she asked, eyeing the knife. It looked ordinary to her.

The king’s face darkened. “More often than I’d like, I’m sad to say. Why, just last week, a young woman from the north end of the city was caught using the dark arts.”

“What did she do?” Elizabeth asked, not quite sure she wanted to hear the answer. She wouldn’t judge. She wouldn’t judge. She wouldn’t–

“She learned math,” the king said.

Elizabeth stared, open-mouthed. “How… awful for you,” she said coolly.

The king didn’t seem to notice her anger. “Yes, it was very tragic.”

Thankfully, before she said something she might (or might not) regret later, one of the king’s brightly-dressed aides trotted up and whispered something in his ear. The king bowed his head at her. He said, “Your rooms are ready for the night. I know you’ve had a long walk from the ring of the Ancestors to my palace. My servant will take you to your quarters.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Elizabeth said, but as soon as they were out of earshot, she muttered to Ronon, “Remind me to never invite these people to Atlantis. What do you think?”

“The king’s an idiot,” Ronon grunted. He looked down at her, face smooth and serious, and she felt some of the tension uncoil from her shoulders. “Everyone knows witches are men.”

*

II.

Two months after Smelding.

Deeper into the canyon, and still nothing. That funny feeling John had started to get in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the paintings didn’t go away, but he couldn’t justify it, either.

No one else seemed to feel the way he did. Usually, when something was wrong, Teyla or Ronon would feel it too, or Rodney would sense he was agitated enough to shut up and be more careful. But Ronon and Teyla seemed to think the mission was already over; Ronon was deciding which glaat to aim for, and Teyla had let her P-90 hang idly against her chest.

“And just how, exactly, do you plan on killing a, ah, glaat?” Rodney asked.

Smoothly, Ronon slipped on a very familiar-looking military standard pair of aviator sunglasses. “With my gun.”

“Hey!” John exclaimed. “Those are my spare sunglasses.”

“You left them in the jumper,” Ronon protested. He took a few steps closer to John and bumped John’s chest with his — he actually bumped John’s face with his chest, and John tensed. He didn’t like feeling small, but it was Ronon, and therefore an inevitably pointless battle.

“Well, you know what they say, finder’s keepers. They look better on you anyway,” John drawled.

Ronon grinned and stepped back. Without warning, he stripped off his long jacket and vest and dipped his fingers in the mud, streaking it across his cheeks like army paint. “Whoa, Sitting Bull,” Rodney said, “is that really necessary?”

“I like hunting,” Ronon said.

“You’d think your seven years as the Wraith’s play thing would’ve made you a card-carrying member of PETA.” John jabbed Rodney in the stomach with his elbow. “Ow! Not play thing play thing. You know what I mean. I’m just saying, if it were me, I’d become a vegetarian.”

“Well, I’m not you,” Ronon said, sounding irritated.

As soon as the first glaat went down, the trembling started. John spread his feet for grip, looking around wildly. If this was an earthquake, it was a damned convenient one. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rodney wobble and fall; Teyla and Ronon braced for a fight.

The ground stilled. John gripped his gun tightly.

Over the edges of the cliffs, a dozen male heads poked out, spears aimed down at them. Before John could even raise his P-90, a second dozen encircled them, pointing spears and arrows directly at his team. They were covered in mud, with red lines on their faces and feathers in their hair, and they were each wearing little leather loincloths.

For several heartbeats, no one moved.

Reluctantly, John lowered his gun. A second later, his teammates did the same.

“How,” John said in greeting. The spears edged a little closer. “Let me guess, you’re the Gregorians.”

“Who is your leader?” one asked. This man had the longest spear of the bunch; John’s informal lessons in alien anthropology suggested this guy was their head honcho.

John smiled winningly at him. “That’d be me. Is there a problem here?”

“Why have you attacked the sacred glaats?” He stepped closer, waving his enormous spear in John’s face. “Hector has not given you permission.”

“Calm down, buddy,” John urged, leaning away from it. “Who’s Hector?”

“The god of the hunt,” another one replied in a tone that was disturbingly close to one Rodney often used.

“Naturally,” Rodney said in the way he usually did when people mentioned gods or religion or any beliefs in general. (One time, just to fuck with him, John had told him he was a practicing Jew. Rodney had refused to speak to him for a week before showing up at John’s door with a menorah. It had been August.) “Maybe Hector did give us permission. Have you asked him yourself? No? Then we’ll just be on our–” The natives directed their aim towards Rodney. He gulped and ducked behind Teyla.

“Look,” John said. He gave them another smile, all friendly-like, “we didn’t know these animals were important. We didn’t even know anyone lived here. We’re just traders.”

He attempted projecting let us go at the nice people with pointy weapons. The tip of a spear brushed his cheek and he held himself very, very still.

“You must repent for what you’ve done,” the leader said.

*

III.

Three months and a day after Smelding.

“So,” John said brightly, “a baby.”

Back on Earth, he’d known a few people who had babies, and the women had all been glowy and smiley. Elizabeth looked more like she wanted to run screaming from the room. Or brain him with her tablet. “Yes, John, a baby. A baby and a man who wants to marry me, no thanks to a bunch of people who eat lead paint.”

“You got pregnant while Ronon was protecting you in Smelding?” John asked incredulously. He gaped at her for a second before, temper rising, demanded, “Weren’t you the one to lecture me on five separate occasions on why having sex offworld is a bad idea? ‘I don’t want to tell you how to lead your life, John, but.’”

Anything could’ve happened while she and Ronon were having sex. He was suddenly absolutely furious at both her and Ronon’s sloppiness.

Elizabeth seemed to find her game of Solitare very fascinating. “I know, but he’s just so– so–”

“Half your age?” he seethed.

“Hot,” she finished. Her eyes narrowed. “John, please. I know getting involved with Ronon was a terrible idea. Believe me, I’m paying for it.”

She put a hand on her stomach, and John’s anger evaporated. He sat down heavily. “Ronon wants to marry you?” he asked uncomfortably.

She grimaced. “He told me he was willing to overlook that my family can’t pay the ‘bride price’ of twenty ‘handgar,’ which I think is a sum of money. Or cattle.”

“He’s been collecting baby stuff for you on missions,” John said as he rubbed his chin. “Rodney and I thought maybe he’d met some girl offworld.”

“If only,” Elizabeth sighed.

“Speaking of girls offworld,” John continued, grinning as Rodney leaned into the room. He knocked on the door as he shoved through it, glaring in John’s general direction.

“Is this a private conversation, Colonel, or are you and Elizabeth busy discussing how you’re going to be sleeping on the couch tonight? I need you to temporarily remove Dr Kusangi from her offworld team while she works on the deep space scanner modifications. Elizabeth, I’m pretty sure Ronon’s trying to score some Cristal. What’s this I hear about you getting married?”

“What’s Cristal?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s what the rappers drink,” Rodney explained. He sat on the desk next to John. Elizabeth looked surprised, although John wasn’t; one of the first times Rodney had abandoned him for the labs in the middle of the night, he’d found a People magazine tucked between a physics journal and a year-old Astronomy Today. He’d also found Ford’s old iPod in Rodney’s underwear drawer.

“So, a baby,” Rodney said conversationally, and John smirked.

Elizabeth glowered. “Don’t you start.”

“You don’t really plan on marrying him, do you? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with a man who thinks a light year is longer than a par sec?”

“I don’t even know what a par sec is,” Elizabeth said.

“Nevermind. Clearly, it’s a match made in Heaven,” Rodney said meanly. He had that “you got your PhD from a Crackerjack box” look on his face again, and John nudged his shoulder pointedly.

At least Elizabeth seemed to know when she was being insulted. “You know, Rodney, not that it’s any of your business, but maybe I don’t want to be with someone who knows a par sec is longer than a light year. Ronon might not be a genius, but he’s a good boy. Man. Man!” She faltered, clearing her throat. She gazed up at John with big, guilty eyes. “It’s very lonely at the top.”

John nodded. “I know, you have– Hey!” he cried, jerking up from his slouch. “You were sleeping with Stackhouse for months. And Corporal Coughlin. And the diplomat from M4X-1002.”

Rodney made a sound he usually reserved for when John was sucking certain parts of his anatomy. “Wasn’t the diplomat a chick?” he asked shrilly.

John was going to have to do a lot of drinking to get the image of Elizabeth and another woman out of his head. “I’m pretty sure it was the other diplomat, Rodney,” he said flatly.

“Oh, of course,” Rodney said, sounding disappointed. He leaned forward eagerly. “Although if you’d slept with the female diplomat, that would’ve been–”

“Not helping,” John snapped.

“I’m not ready to march in the pride parade just yet,” Elizabeth told Rodney, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

Rodney was still looking a little shell-shocked. “I’m just saying– not that I’ve ever thought of you in that way– not that you’re unattractive or anything, but you’re my boss, and our relationship has never been anything but the utmost professional… but if you slept with another woman, that would be–” He broke off, nodding to himself. “Well, I’d have no objections.”

“Can we change the subject?” John asked, glaring.

Rodney sniffed. “Two vaginas are two too many for the Colonel.”

Now Elizabeth really was grinning. “I understand.”

It was a good thing these walls were soundproof; John would hate to be court martialed because of his homosexual affair and Elizabeth. “None of you understand my plight,” he mumbled.

“I just wish–”

Chuck — John never could remember his last name; he only knew the man’s first one because Chuck and Rodney had once nearly gotten in a fist fight over hockey, something about the Leafs verses the Oilers, or whatever, which was sort of like watching two little girls trying to bitch slap each other — knocked on the glass door.

“Dr Weir,” he said.

She nodded and stood. “Sorry, gentlemen, I have a meeting.”

As the door shut behind them, Rodney hissed, “Isn’t she kind of, you know, old? The kid’s going to be retarded. Oh my God, we’re not just going to have a baby running around Atlantis, we’re going to have a retarded baby! This is disastrous.”

“You better hope Ronon doesn’t catch you calling his baby retarded,” John said.

Rodney waved a careless hand. “Like he knows what that word means anyway. Yesterday I called him a halfwit and he said ‘thank you.’”

*

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that after a while, people stationed in Atlantis started to get a little odd. It happened to all of them eventually; John hadn’t even realized he himself had developed some particular behaviour patterns until the first wave of Daedalus reinforcements had arrived with their strange Earth habits. Habits like studying every insect they came across instead of running away from them, or giving away their deserts for free, or making jokes about a sock monster stealing socks from the dryers (it wasn’t a sock monster, it was a wormhole to another dimension, and two new pilots and one civilian had to learn that the hard way). It had taken a few weeks before the original expedition members and the reinforcement officers had started to mingle successfully.

After Lorne’s strikeforce was released from the Genii prison, three of his teammates went all Malcolm X on John. “You were there for less than a week,” John had pointed out. But Lieutenant French had asked, “Are you questioning my personal relationship with Allah, sir?” John was the last guy to look down on someone for their faith (he wasn’t Rodney, after all), but even he had to roll his eyes at their sudden religious fervor, especially after he had heard one of them asking Elizabeth which direction she thought he should pray in. In the Pegasus Galaxy.

“Sir, I want to officially change my name to Abdullah Fatemi,” Sergeant Estridge had told John later in a private meeting.

“I’m pretty sure that name’s already taken by Corporal Fatemi,” John had said. “And speaking of which, you should probably avoid any of the actual Muslim officers for a while.”

Estridge had frowned. “Why? They’re my brothers now.”

John had clasped him on the shoulder and replied, “You know what? If this works out, I’ll change my name to He Who Runs From Wraith.”

He’d almost forgotten about that. A few days after they’d found out about Elizabeth’s pregnancy — after everyone had found out about Elizabeth’s pregnancy, actually; word traveled fast in a closed community — John and Rodney grabbed their usual table in the mess.

“Are you going to eat that?” Rodney asked as he pointed to John’s half-finished macaroni and cheese.

“No, go ahead.” John pushed the tray towards him.

Stuffing a bite into his mouth, Rodney said, “You know, you need to eat more. Your manorexia’s getting out of control.”

John squinted at him. “Did you just say ‘manorexia’?”

“Hey,” Rodney said, eyes locked on something over John’s shoulder, “I thought you said Lorne’s guys were going to get the shit beaten out of them.”

John twisted around to look. French, Estridge, and Stoker were sitting at a table with Abdul-Majeed and Khadim, neither of whom seemed particularly pissed off. In fact, the five of them looked like they were deep in an intense discussion. “Great, now I’m going to get my ass handed to me by Lieutenant Delancy.”

“Who’s Lieutenant Delancy?” Rodney asked around a mouthful of green beans.

“Canadian Native,” John replied. “I thought all you Canadians knew each other.”

Rodney gave him a sour look. “I guess I must’ve missed him at the last Canadian meeting,” he said sarcastically. “Yes, that’s right, I was too busy telling everyone of my ingenious plan to steal back our water supply from you thieving Americans.”

“Does the water taste more socialist in Canada?” John asked.

“It’s tainted by the flavour of free health care,” Rodney sneered.

Ronon crossed the mess with a loaded tray, making a bee-line for John and Rodney. “Hey, Dex!” French called. Ronon hesitated, then slid in beside Khadim. The hairs on the back of John’s neck stood up.

He managed to tear his gaze away from Ronon’s enthusiastic conversation with three insane and two conservative Marines and back to Rodney, who proceeded to tell him the horrible mistakes everyone in the physics lab made that day, not seeming to care something probably very, very bad was happening on the other side of the mess.

*

When he got to Elizabeth’s office, John found her standing in the middle of the room. She was pinching a beautiful piece of fabric between her fingers, arm stretched away from her body. She was staring at it like it had done something to personally offend her. The cloth was dark red, with beautiful lines of gold etched into it; John recognized it from one of the planets they traded medicine to, but he couldn’t recall which one.

“Not a fan of dry clean only?” he asked.

“Do you know what this is?” she questioned, still holding it away from herself.

He studied it. “Should I?”

“Ronon,” Elizabeth began tightly, eyes narrowing, “has apparently being talking to some of the Marines.”

His stomach sank. “Fantastic,” he said wearily.

“Who, from what I understand, explained the Muslim belief women should cover themselves when in the presence of men who are not their husbands.”

“So that is–?” John gestured.

“A burqa,” she said.

This was the first time John had ever been afraid Elizabeth would literally kill someone. “Why couldn’t they just teach him curse words like normal people?” John murmured.

“No, they taught him those too,” she said dryly.

*

Chapter Three

I.

The rumour mill was working overtime. Stackhouse caught John sneaking out of his office in the middle of the day. “Sir, is it true Dr Weir’s pregnant?”

“Yeah,” John replied, surprised and yet not. “Who told you?”

Stackhouse’s face crumpled. “I guess I’d better go congratulate Coughlin,” he said dejectedly.

John couldn’t bear seeing him so forlorn like that. “Well, Sergeant, between you and me… it’s not Coughlin.”

Stackhouse’s brows knitted. “Zelenka? Everyone knows he has a thing for her, but– if it’s not him, who could it be?”

He couldn’t resist: “It could be me,” he said, rocking back on his heels.

But Stackhouse threw his head back and laughed. “Good one, sir.” He was still chuckling when he turned to leave, and John could hear him mutter, “‘It could be me.’ That’s great.”

*

It wasn’t like John actively thought about it. But if pressed, he’d admit he was sure Ronon had been the one to seduce Elizabeth. Once word got out about them, people began to make their own assumptions. Those who didn’t know Ronon were under the impression Elizabeth had fallen for the charms of his fine alien ass; those who did know him thought he’d been the one to notice her beauty and independent spirit and decided to make her his (or that he was just really into older women; Rodney had said something along the lines of, “Electra complex much?”). Everyone figured Ronon must’ve done something to convince Elizabeth a relationship with him was worth the consequences.

That wasn’t exactly how it happened.

*

Smelding.

The guest quarters contained one large bed draped in sheer gold and red fabric. The fireplace threw soft, romantic shadows throughout the room, and outside the huge window, the city’s white towers glittered in the moonlight. Elizabeth eased off her sneakers and toed the Persian-looking carpet.

From behind her, Ronon said, “I sleep naked.”

Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. She was entirely too mature to freak out over a naked Ronon Dex. “That’s fine, I’ll sleep in the armchair,” she said.

He started to inspect the window. “No, I’ll take the chair. You take the bed.”

She didn’t appreciate him coddling her because she was a woman, no matter how comfortable the bed seemed. She sat on a corner, testing how bouncy the mattress was. “I think I’ve proven I can handle myself in a difficult situation,” Elizabeth had told John before she’d left. Still, he’d put his hands on his hips and insisted, “Ronon’s going with you. Aren’t you, buddy?”

Ronon shucked his pants. Elizabeth rolled off the bed.

“Are you this way with all your teammates?” she asked as she stood back up shakily, unable to keep a squeak out of her voice. He had huge, muscular brown legs, matching his smooth brown chest and narrow hips, and– She fixed her eyes on the slight curve of his lips, mouth suddenly dry.

He shrugged, completely at ease. “Not Sheppard. I don’t like the way he looks at me; it makes me feel like a piece of meat. And Teyla snores. I sleep next to the fire when I’m offworld with them.”

“What about Rodney?”

He looked at her blankly. “What about him?”

When he turned to check the locks on the door, she caught him smirking. She narrowed her eyes; he was messing with her head again. He’d always liked knocking her off-balance. In the past, it had always left her distressed — heart fluttering, face hot, feeling mortified even though she’d never done anything wrong — but somehow, seeing him in his briefs made her braver.

As soon as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, like she had just been moments before, she removed her shirt, letting it drop to the floor where her jacket and tac vest already lay.

This time, he was the one to fall off the bed.

The cool air on her bare skin made Elizabeth shiver, but the triumph of unnerving Ronon had a warmth all its own. She blinked at him innocently. “It is customary on Earth for everyone to disrobe if one person does,” she lied graciously.

“Huh,” he said, picking himself back up, “that explains Sheppard and McKay. I’d wondered why they slept naked on away missions. It never seemed very practical to me.”

John was the worst secret homosexual in history. “Never follow John’s example,” she said. He started to say something, but she held up her hand. “Just trust me. You’ll embarrass yourself less this way.”

Ronon’s eyes darted across her breasts and stomach briefly, then away. His throat worked. “Okay.”

Satisfied she’d disarmed him sufficiently — and feeling more than a little foolish in just her bra — Elizabeth bent down to pick her shirt back up. She said, “If we ask for more blankets, maybe you can–”

Suddenly he was right in front of her. He clasped his hand over her mouth, and her shirt slipped from her fingers. She sucked in a breath through her nose.

It took a second for her heart to stop pounding in her ears, and she started to notice how warm his big hand was against her mouth, how he smelled like dirt and leather and nothing like Simon, who’d gone to the trouble of wearing Giorgio Armani every day, or even John, who always smelled nice, even from across the room. Ronon’s smell was real. It was different before, with him just looking at her; now with one hand on her mouth and the other just barely touching her waist, a hot wave pulsed down her spine.

“Sorry,” he said, drawing away. She almost stumbled forward. “The king’s guards are marching through the halls. They gave us trouble last time.”

She licked her lips. “That’s who Teyla had the, uh, disagreement with?”

“Yeah.” His brow furrowed.

He was still right against her, but he was shifting anxiously.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t know how to be married,” he confessed. “I should’ve said you were married to Lieutenant Miller. We’re going to get caught faking, and I will have broken my promise to Sheppard.”

“What was marriage like on Sateda?” she asked.

He lowered his head, frowning. She was pretty sure he was staring at her breasts. “Most people on Sateda marry for money or children,” he said quietly. “My mother was the daughter of an industrialist. My father’s father was in the performance arts. He would do silent skits by himself in the town square.”

She gawked. “A mime?”

“Grandpa didn’t talk much,” he continued.

“No, I imagine he wouldn’t,” she said.

They were still standing close in the corner of the room, both of them half-naked. If Elizabeth leaned even slightly to the left, she would’ve fallen onto the bed. She had to get control of herself; she had to tell him thank you for protecting her, but he needed to step away now.

“Are you and Teyla involved?” she asked instead.

“No,” Ronon said, staring at her mouth, “she’s not my type.”

“Shot you down, huh?” Elizabeth asked, arching a brow.

He ducked his head. “She told me she’d have sex with Sheppard before she would with me, and then she laughed really, really hard.”

“So you’re single,” she said.

“I told you, I don’t have the means to protect you,” he said, like that was some sort of answer.

“We could…” Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it pounding in her chest. “We could practice. You know. Being married.”

Ronon looked at her like this was the best idea in the history of the universe, but he said in a low tone, “I can’t protect you the way I should,” he repeated. There was something here she wasn’t getting. “I’m not a man yet.”

Now he was gazing at her unabashed, raking his eyes from her feet to the top of her head, and her whole body felt flushed. This was completely unfitting of a leader. She shouldn’t have been turned on. She should’ve felt angry and outraged. She should’ve crossed her arms over her chest, backing off. She should’ve told him how inappropriate he was being, because she was his superior and the head of Atlantis, and they were on a mission to protect the city, and he was a young, hot, strong, man-child with the ability to tear people apart with his giant hands. But instead, she placed her hand on his large, brown bicep and, using a phrase she knew was worthy of John Sheppard, said, “Believe me, you’re more than man enough.”

*

II.

Two months after Smelding.

“I hate missions that end in nudity,” Rodney said. He looked across the circle at John and leered. “Mmm. Well. I hate missions that end in team nudity.”

“Dr McKay, please be quiet,” Teyla snapped.

“At least they let you keep your bra and panties,” Rodney retorted.

“I never want to hear the words ‘panties’ come out of your mouth again,” John told him.

The four of them were sitting Indian-style in a circle, inside one of the canyon’s caves the Gregorians used as a base. A circle of spear-holding Gregorians surrounded them. If John leaned back even the slightest, a spear dug into his spine. He’d been through worse (it wasn’t like he hadn’t been naked offworld before), but so far, this wasn’t his favourite mission. The naked thing was a little uncomfortable, and his ass was falling asleep from sitting for so long.

There was a movement out of the corner of John’s eye. He glanced over, seeing Ronon fiddling with something in his lap. His very naked lap. “Whatcha doing?” he asked.

Ronon was widdling a piece of wood with one of his hair knives. “Baby toy.”

“That’s it, you’re out of the sacred naked bonding,” Rodney said.

“You ever going to tell us who’s having your baby?” John asked seriously.

Ronon paused, looking up. He looked a little frustrated. “Maybe? It’s a secret right now. I just found out.”

“Is she Athosian?” Rodney asked.

“No,” Ronon said. Teyla looked extremely relieved.

“Was she one of those man-eaters from the planet of the Amazons?”

“No.”

“What about–?”

“Stop asking, I’m not going to tell you,” Ronon said. He studied Rodney thoughtfully, tucking both the knife and the toy into his dreads. It was a lot less impressive when he was naked. Or maybe more impressive. John couldn’t tell anymore. “You should think about having kids, McKay. You’d probably breed a lot of loud, irritating boys.”

Despite the horrifying idea of Rodney finding some blonde-haired, blue-eyed space slut to have his children (even though John was and always had been fully prepared for cockblocking in the Pegasus Galaxy), the aghast expression on Rodney’s face was hilarious. “I’m– Am I flattered? Am I supposed to be flattered? Is that some bizarre Satedan compliment on my virile masculinity?”

“Something like that,” Ronon replied.

“What about me?” John asked.

Ronon patted John’s bare knee. “You’re the best Taskmaster I’ve ever had,” he replied accommodatingly.

“That’s the total opposite of an answer,” John said.

“You know, the Meditation of Hector goes a lot faster if you don’t talk,” came the very exasperated voice of the Gregorian with the large spear.

John met the man’s eyes. “Hey, how much longer do we have to do this? If you’re going to kill us, you might as well do it now. We’re not very patient people.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rodney said. “I am the very epitome of patient.” When John didn’t say any of the jokes that popped into his head about Rodney’s patience in bed, he wondered if he was growing as a person. Maybe there really was something to this meditating.

“You must perform the Meditation until sundown,” the man said.

John looked up; the sun was directly over head. Their second check in was due in three hours.

“Great,” he said.

*

Naturally, John dozed off. He’d had an aversion to long bouts of meditation ever since that time warp cloister. Six months of nothing but meditation and cutting wood would drive a man to do something crazy — like sleep with a psychic woman who’d wanted to Ascend. He was never good at sitting still.

When he shook himself awake, it was dark. The Gregorians were busy lighting fires; one inside the cave, and one outside at the mouth. Rodney was snoring and drooling, and Ronon’s chin was down against his chest, but Teyla looked up as soon as he eyed her.

“Do you see our stuff?” he whispered.

She shook her head. John quickly glanced around the cave thinking: guard here, hearth there, three more guards at the cave’s opening, and if he was able to get his hands on one of those spears– Teyla’s eyes widened, and John twisted around.

The man with the very long spear stood behind him. The spear was conveniently pointed at John’s face. “I am Hektat, speaker for the Elders.”

John tapped his own chest. “Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. My friends are Teyla, Rodney, and Ronon. Are you planning on letting us go any time soon?”

Hektat shook his head. “No, there are still two more rituals which must be completed,” he said. “At sun up, you will be cleansed in the Pools of Hector.”

“Our people are going to be looking for us,” John warned. The Gregorians hadn’t hurt them, and, apart from the weird naked circle, hadn’t asked for anything, but just because they hadn’t yet didn’t mean they weren’t going to in the near future.

Hektat said sadly, “If you leave without completing the rituals, we’d have to find a new place to live. Even though our ancestors have lived in these caves for thousands of years. Because Hector might take his revenge by asking the animals to migrate.” John stared. Hektat added pointedly, “They’re our only source of food.”

“Could you move with the animals?” Teyla suggested.

“That requires entirely too much walking,” Hektat said.

John’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, but I have to warn you, my hair’s not pretty when it frizzes.”

*

While being escorted (by spearpoint) to the Pools of Hector, which were apparently around the next cliff, Rodney grabbed John’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Do those look like cars to you?”

Right off the path, two black, nineteenth century style automobiles were camouflaged behind rocks and leaves. They looked like they were loaded with boxes, sticks, and other goods.

“Ah, yes,” another one of the Gregorians said, “those are our portable storage devices.”

“I don’t think you understand the purpose of a car,” John said, eyes wide.

“But– how– who–” Rodney flailed like he’d been given an impossible math problem. “Where do you get gasoline?”

“Gas-oh-leen?” the man repeated.

“This technology is amazing,” Ronon mused.

John and Rodney stared at him in alarm. Even Teyla frowned.

Shaking himself, John turned to Hektat. “If you’re so worried about Hector making the animals migrate every time someone kills a glaat, why don’t you just follow them with these?”

“What sort of sick world do you come from where you use glaatless carriages as means of transportation?” Hektat asked in horror.

“Atlantis,” John replied slowly.

The Gregorians exchanged glances. “Suddenly, it all becomes clear,” Hektat said.

“Aliens,” John heard one of the men scoff. He totally related.

*

By John’s rough estimation, they’d only been in the pools for around half an hour when the rescue team decided to show. The timing couldn’t have been more unfortunate. The Gregorians had gone down a level in order to allow them privacy, like they hadn’t just walked half a mile completely in the buff. The Pools were exactly that, pools; the water was fizzy and warm, but not hot, and the air smelled faintly of sulphur. They reminded John of the hot springs in Yellowstone, only this time there weren’t any park rangers to yell at him.

He and Rodney had taken one pool, and Ronon and Teyla had taken another. Some time during the commotion, Teyla had relieved herself of her underclothes, but Ronon either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. John suspected it was the latter.

“Oh yeah,” Rodney said with eyes still closed, breaking the silence, “we should get captured like this more often.”

Rodney was right. John liked the way Rodney looked when he was relaxed, and he knew he was hot when he was wet and sweaty. It was kind of sexy: him, Rodney, hot springs, two dozen ornery alien kidnappers with spears possibly wanting to kill them.

John trailed his fingers up Rodney’s firm upper arm, murmuring, “Too bad Ronon and Teyla are here.”

Someone cleared their throat. When he looked up, he was looking directly into the very amused face of Major Lorne. John glanced over his shoulder, and he found five other Marines locked and loaded and ready to go.

“Now you show up,” Rodney grumbled. “You couldn’t've come during, say, the naked sharing time?”

“Major,” John acknowledged, debating whether or not to stand.

“You missed two check ins, sir,” Lorne said. “You know how Dr Weir worries. We’ve come to rescue you.” He carefully kept his eyes above John’s neck. “You do need rescuing, right, sir?”

“No, you interrupted our orgy,” Rodney said sarcastically.

Lorne looked bewildered. “Yes, we need rescuing!” John said, before Lorne could get any ideas.

“Looks like we came just in time then, sir,” Lorne said dryly, his gaze focused on the hot springs.

John stood and uttered the words he’d hoped to never say to his 2IC: “Major, help me find my pants.”

John’s movement must’ve been enough to alert the Gregorians, because suddenly, they were surrounded by spears and angry painted faces. Lorne’s men looked around nervously and raised their weapons; John held up a hand and called to both sides, “Wait, wait, it’s okay. We can do this without violence. Nobody has to get hurt here.”

Hektat stepped forward with his enormous spear. “We don’t wish anyone harm,” he said, gaze flickering between John and Lorne. “We just want you to finish the ceremony. All you have left is the Binding of Hector.”

“Binding,” John said with a relieved smirk, “that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Because you are the leader, you have to become one with the tribe,” Hektat said.

“Okay,” John said. He scratched the back of his neck. “How do I do that?”

“You must marry us.”

John’s eyebrows shot up. “Us?” he repeated.

“The tribe,” Hektat explained.

Rodney was going to murder him.

“Of course,” Rodney muttered darkly.

Oh yeah, he was a dead man. “I’m sorry, I’m already seeing someone,” John said, smiling tightly.

Ronon said, “I’m sure McKay doesn’t mind.”

For a guy who didn’t talk much, Ronon sure had a big mouth. John knew he meant that Rodney wouldn’t be able to make fun of John for marrying into a commune if it meant their lives (although Ronon was wrong; Rodney got angry when anyone — man, woman, child, squirrel — offworld so much as looked at John), but from the shocked looked on his soldiers’ faces, that comment wasn’t going over so well.

John worked his jaw, hoping his face didn’t display the incredible amount of annoyance he felt just then. He purposely didn’t glance at Rodney. “Thank you, Ronon,” he said.

Lorne looked at Rodney in surprise. “I didn’t know you were gay.”

“What about me?” John demanded.

“Well, you’re…” Lorne trailed off, making a twirly gesture John couldn’t decipher. John glowered. “Wow, look at this great ambush we have here.”

John ignored Rodney’s gloating smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “the sooner we, uh, Bind, the sooner we get to go home.”

*

John had been to Pegasus weddings before. Last year, two of the Athosians had gotten married, and there’d been a three day celebration and feast. John had personally helped slaughter the boar-like creatures they’d served as a main course. There had been dancing and moonshine and music, and he and Rodney had been wasted enough to sneak off to the woods.

This time, however, was more embarrassing than stumbling across Cadman and Carson doing what he and Rodney had been planning on doing. John had to sit still while women from the tribe rubbed green clay onto his hands and arms, and painted red clay onto his face in diagonal lines. He wondered if he looked like something out of an old western movie. At least they’d let him put his pants back on.

One of the women reached out to touch his hair. “I don’t think so,” he warned. She retreated.

“You’d better enjoy this while you can, Colonel,” Rodney said quietly, kneeling beside him, fully clothed and mud-free, “because it’s the closest you’ll ever come to getting married.”

“Gee, McKay, and I’d already picked out my dress,” John said sarcastically.

“What, you think they’re going to have gay marriage in Atlantis just because they like you so darn much? Although actually, that wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Don’t be mad, Rodney,” he said.

“I’m not mad,” Rodney snapped. “I’m perfectly fine with you marrying an entire tribe.”

Lorne disengaged himself from the circle of tribal elders and ambled over. “Sorry, sir,” he said, “but Teyla and I couldn’t talk them out of it. On the bright side, they said they’ll let us go as soon as the wedding’s over.”

“Major, we are never repeating this to anyone,” John said as a woman snuck up behind him and stuck a feather in his hair.

Lorne looked on the verge of cracking up. “You’re sure you don’t want a picture for posterity, sir? It’s not every day you get to marry into a commune.”

John rolled his eyes. “I think you should go check to make sure Ronon isn’t killing any more of their sacred animals.”

“And miss walking you down the aisle, sir?” Lorne asked.

“He gave you an order, Major,” Rodney said a little viciously, and Lorne’s head jerked back.

“Fine,” he said, and then he looked at John and rolled his eyes.

“You can’t seriously be upset about this,” John said as soon as Lorne headed over to where Ronon had wandered off.

“An entire tribe!” Rodney said, throwing his arms in the air.

*

III.

Three months and a week after Smelding.

John watched Elizabeth crumple the burqa into a ball and throw it in the wastebasket, and then glare at it in stony silence for twenty minutes. Shortly after, she asked him to do her a personal favour.

He begged. He pleaded. He groveled in a way he hadn’t since living with his parents, and in the end Elizabeth still won. That was what he got for not taking Debate in college.

Still a little rattled, he found himself at the main labs, watching Rodney happily type information into a simulation programme on his laptop. He was singing something that sounded like, “you’s a ho,” under his breath. Zelenka was at the next bench, singing something of his own in Czech. The two songs clashed in a horrible cacophony. Still, it was a lot less painful than what he was about to do.

“Hey,” John said as he perched on the edge of Rodney’s bench.

“Hey,” Rodney replied. He glanced at him for a second, looked down at the screen, and then stared back up at John, forehead creasing. “What’s wrong?”

John chewed his lower lip. “Elizabeth asked me to talk to Ronon for her.”

“About?” Rodney asked. At John’s dismayed look, he said, “You’re kidding me. Good luck with telling Ronon Elizabeth was just using him for sex. Remember a million years ago when you tried have that conversation with me, and halfway through we started making out?” He paused. “If your solution to Elizabeth’s Ronon problem ends with you making out with him, I’ll kill you both.”

John was very bad at breakups. He said, “Yeah, well, what exactly am I supposed to say to him? ‘Sorry your boss doesn’t want to bear your love-child and marry you?’ I really think Elizabeth was just looking for a good time. Remember how she was seeing Stackhouse but said he got too clingy?”

“What? No, she doesn’t tell me things like that,” Rodney said, disgusted. “We never talk about anything but work. Is that what you do at meetings? Talk about your love lives?”

John cringed. “I think I’m Elizabeth’s best friend.”

“I thought you were Teyla’s best friend,” Rodney said.

John thought about that. “I don’t think Teyla has friends, I think she has people she tolerates. Most of the time I don’t think she even likes me that much.”

“Some days, I’m surprised you have any friends at all.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should date Ronon. He’s nicer to me than you are.”

Rodney snorted. “Right. You’d come crying back to me the second he didn’t get one of your Star Trek jokes.”

That was probably true, but Rodney didn’t deserve to hear it.

He found Ronon and a bunch of the Marines in one of the lounges, watching rap videos on a laptop. There were bodies writhing on the screen, and if the camera hadn’t panned away to some unattractive, husky guy rapping, John would’ve thought it was porn. “So this Jadakiss guy,” Ronon was saying, sounding doubtful, “you admire him?”

“Hell yeah,” one of the guys said. “Look at these chicks.”

“But they’re whores,” Ronon said.

“Exactly.”

John knocked on the doorframe. “Okay, guys, take your circle jerk elsewhere. I’ve got to talk to Ronon.”

As soon as the room emptied, he joined Ronon on the couch. Throwing John a suspicious glance, Ronon silently pulled some beads and string out of his pocket.

“What’s–? No, nevermind, I know, baby necklace,” John said. He straightened his shoulders. He wished he’d had a couple of beers in him; these things always went a lot easier when he was wasted off his face. “Have you really thought about this whole baby thing?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’m a man now,” Ronon said simply. “This is something I have to do.”

“A man? You had sex with your boss!” John said.

Ronon growled, “You had sex with a glowing squid.”

“And no one will let me forget it,” John said, tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch in annoyance. He took a deep breath. He’d flown nukes into Hive ships, he’d faced Wraith queens, he’d killed dozens of people with the push of a button. He could totally break up with Ronon for Elizabeth. “Listen, Elizabeth’s not ready for this whole baby… marriage… shenanigan.”

“I don’t understand,” Ronon said.

John had once dumped a girl on her birthday completely by accident. Explaining he hadn’t known it was her birthday hadn’t saved him from the ass kicking; actually, now that he thought about it, that particular girlfriend reminded him a lot of Teyla. Another time, he’d ran over a boyfriend’s cat. He hadn’t been able to think of a way to tell the guy, so he’d left a note on the dead kitty that said, “I think we should see other people.” There were also several incidences in which he hadn’t exactly broken up with whomever he’d been dating, but instead waited until they realized he was dating someone else before saying something. Seriously, John had always been bad at breakups.

John rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “She doesn’t want to marry you. She’s not even sure she’s going to keep the baby. She didn’t want anything serious when she got involved with you.”

Ronon slowly got to his feet. “Are you saying this because you want her?”

“Whoa, back up there a second, buddy,” John said, as he stood with him. He held up his hands and hoped Ronon wouldn’t attack. “Trust me, I’m not interested in Elizabeth.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with her?” Ronon demanded.

John flinched at this one-eighty turn in the conversation. “Nothing. Elizabeth’s great.”

“But you don’t want to have sex with her,” Ronon said, eyes narrowed.

John frowned. “But– I– you want me to want to have sex with her?”

Ronon shuffled his feet. “I want someone to be jealous of me.”

“Is there any way I can be jealous of your superior, baby-making virility without you kicking the crap out of me?” John asked.

Ronon’s brow knitted. He patted John’s shoulder half-heartedly. “If it was anyone but you, Sheppard, I’d think you were hitting on me.”

“Funny, that,” John said.

Much to John’s dismay, Ronon sat back down and pulled more beads and string from his pocket. “Gotta finish this before the baby’s born,” he said.

“Did you hear a word I said?” John asked. He tried to put his hands on his hips and look authoritarian, but that never worked on Ronon.

“Elizabeth and I need to have a talk,” Ronon said without looking up.

John waited, but Ronon kept stringing beads like his life depended on it. John gave up and turned the rap videos back on.

*

A few days after the horrible, horrible talk with Ronon John never wanted to experience again, ever, Elizabeth surprised John and Rodney by telling them, “I’ve decided to go ahead and marry Ronon.”

“Really?” John asked. He hoped the look on his face conveyed the part he probably shouldn’t say aloud, After putting me through all that?

“Well, I guess you can always get divorced,” Rodney said. “Although seeing as how things have gone so far, they probably don’t have divorce on Sateda. They probably make you play Russian roulette instead. Winner gets to keep the kids.”

John took in the way Elizabeth wouldn’t meet their eyes, and how she had her red long-sleeved shirt zipped up all the way to her chin despite being on the balcony outside the command room. In the summer. “He changed your mind,” John accused.

“He–” She looked embarrassed. “He wrote me poetry. It was sweet.”

“Ronon can read?” Rodney asked.

“I didn’t say it was good poetry,” she said. She frowned. “Hold on, if you two didn’t teach Ronon English, I wonder who did. He said he said he learned our poetry from Homer. I’d assumed one of you had given him the books.”

John had a flashback to their last movie night. Rodney glanced at him in surprise, and then in smug arrogance, and John knew he was remembering too. “Oh, he learned it from Homer, all right,” Rodney said cheekily.

John explained, “Homer Simpson.”

Elizabeth stared at both of them in mute horror.

“He’s a soldier, or a warrior, or whatever,” Rodney said. “You should be impressed he took the time to learn the alphabet. What’d he write? ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, blood is sweet, and if you’re lucky I won’t kill you too’?”

Even John was a little annoyed at that. Elizabeth’s mouth tightened. “He’s not really a warrior,” she said. “Before he joined the military, he was an out-of-work actor.”

Rodney made a strangled noise. “What?” John asked.

“His tattoo is the symbol of his theatre guild,” she replied.

John’s brain refused to process this new information. “How’d you find that out?” he asked.

She raised a brow at him. “I asked.”

“But–” John blinked several times. “When I asked him about it, he said it represented something too horrible for me to fathom.”

“He’s a very private person,” Elizabeth explained.

Rodney wheezed.

“I can’t believe it,” John said. He felt like he needed to sit down, only he was already sitting on the balcony railing.

Elizabeth sighed sadly, suddenly looking very old. “I know. I thought I was getting a barbaric warrior from a civilization that valued masculinity, when instead I got a thespian from a planet of Puritans.”

“This is the best moment of my life,” Rodney said.

*

This was so much worse than the time he found out Rodney’s second PhD was in Music Theory, and John wasn’t even sleeping with Ronon. At least the Music Theory thing meant Rodney could play John’s guitar, which was hot (unfortunately, it also meant Rodney could competently lecture John for hours and hours on why his music sucked. “The Go-Go’s? Did we go back in time to 1980 and no one bothered to tell me? If I look, am I going to find Cyndi Lauper on here too? Oh my God, I can’t believe you have The Bangles’ Greatest Hits. I think I’m going to have to leave you.”).

Rodney slapped John in the stomach to get his attention. “I bet if you asked, Elizabeth would let you read his love poems,” he said. “She probably needs someone to squeal over them with.”

“You’re disgusting,” John said, glaring.

“Come on,” Rodney whined, “think how hilarious it’ll be. We can get Kavanagh to put them on his community blog. We’ll have enough mocking material to last years. Because God knows this’ll never stop being funny. Ronon the actor. Thank you, Jesus, Allah, Ya-weh, whoever. Thank you.”

“What’s a blog?” John asked.

Rodney pulled a repulsed face. “It’s a good thing you’re so good-looking.”

Ronon looked up and seemed to notice them for the first time. “What are you guys talking about?” he asked across the tables, setting down his bowl. The spoon and fork on his tray were untouched, as usual.

“Nothing important,” John replied with an easy grin.

“Just wondering what your level of reading comprehension is,” Rodney lied.

“I can read,” Ronon said, voice pitched low. He tapped his mini cereal box. “See, it says ‘Corn Flakes.’”

“It says ‘Cheerios,’” John corrected.

Ronon frowned at the box like it had tricked him.

“And this man’s child will be the first of the new generation of Atlantians,” Rodney said grimly.

“We’re doomed,” John agreed.

*

Four months after Smelding.

Elizabeth sat across from John in the mess and sighed. Her tray was practically overflowing with food. John couldn’t tell she was pregnant, only that she was starting to look less skeletal, but Ronon had been waxing poetics on her baby bump. Lately, John had been trying to avoid Ronon as much as possible; Ronon the poet-slash-actor freaked him out a little more than he’d like to admit.

“Ronon’s been thinking of names,” she said in greeting, opening one of her chocolate milk cartons. “He said he wanted Earth names. He’s already suggested Christmas, Wrench, and Piper, of all things.”

“The last one you can blame on Lorne,” said John. “Why don’t you ask him for Satedan names?”

“I’m sort of afraid to,” she admitted.

She sighed again, digging into her Athosian wildbeast yoghurt with relish. “How did I get to this point? I was having sex with Stackhouse for three months and my period was never even late. One offworld roll in the hay with Ronon and I get pregnant.”

John glanced at his watch pointedly. “Oh, would you look at the time. I just remembered, I left my laptop in a jumper. On another world.”

He dumped his tray and took off before Elizabeth could even finish asking, “Huh?”

*

“You should think about having kids with one of your many men,” Ronon was telling Teyla when John entered the gym. “You should fulfill your duty to the gods.”

“What is it about married people that makes them want to set up their single friends?” John asked, leaning against the doorway.

Ronon glanced at him cautiously, then turned back to Teyla. “Would you have Sheppard’s babies?” he asked her.

John beamed at Teyla, who slowly lowered her fighting sticks until they touched the mats. “In this scenario,” she said, “you are assuming there are no other men in the galaxy, and the gate to Earth is broken?”

John’s smile faded.

“Of course,” Ronon said.

“Then I would consider it, if my sacrifice meant the survival of the human species,” Teyla said.

“You know what I miss?” John asked glumly. “Self esteem.”

“No matter,” Teyla said, smiling at John pleasantly. “I am infertile anyway.”

Ronon recoiled like she’d said something particularly awful. Together they’d faced Wraith and numerous hostile cultures, but now he looked more taken aback than John had ever seen him. “On Sateda, women who can’t have babies are sent away to work in the mines.”

Both Teyla and John stared. “That’s horrible,” John said, completely floored.

Ronon shrugged. “They were already being punished by the gods, that’s why they can’t have kids. Physical work isn’t a big deal after that.”

“On Athos,” Teyla said coolly, gripping her sticks, “I was the leader of my people, regardless of my ability to bear offspring.”

Ronon gave them another what-can-you-do shrug.

In the past few weeks, John had learned more about Sateda than ever. The more information Ronon gave him, the less sorry he was they were all eaten by Wraiths. It was like–

“Oh my God,” he said, “Sateda is the Texas of the Pegasus Galaxy.”

“Then Texas must be a great place,” Ronon growled.

Later, when they were left alone to spar (John was still too embarrassed to let people watch Teyla kick his ass, which only had a little to do with her being a very tiny person; he was only human.), John asked Teyla, “You know it doesn’t matter to me that you can’t have kids, right? Ronon’s beliefs are his and his alone. And, well, the rest of his planet, but there aren’t a lot of them left.”

She smiled charmingly. “I am aware you and Ronon do not share beliefs. He has always been very traditional in his views. Besides, it would be odd for you to think lowly of me not having children when you cannot have them as well.”

“I can have kids,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, frowning, “I meant you cannot have them by choice, because of the type of relations you prefer. Because Dr McKay and you– it did not occur to me you would want a woman to– There is no good way to say this.” She looked down at the floor. The silence grew uncomfortable.

“Want to go drop things off Pier Two and see how long it takes the scientists to come yell at us?” he asked.

“Yes, okay,” she said, looking relieved.

*

Chapter Four

I.

The Daedalus.

After Colonel Caldwell showed up to save their asses and take them to Earth for a forced vacation, John learned the hard way nearly blowing himself up didn’t impress anyone but Elizabeth. They had set course for Earth three days ago and he’d only seen Rodney once, and Rodney hadn’t looked too happy at the time. It sucked because he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do in Colorado for two weeks, aside from the fantastic time he was planning to set aside to see family members of his fallen troops, and he wondered if Rodney didn’t know what he was doing either. Maybe, he thought, they could be miserable together.

John thought they had shared a moment in Atlantis, right after the siege, when John had come back from his suicide run to find a dispassionate Rodney in the labs, sorting through the mess the Wraith had made. Rodney had raised his eyes to John in the doorway, and he’d said in a raw, bleeding tone, “I thought– God, John,” and for the first time ever, hugged him. It had been completely different from Elizabeth’s ‘thank-you-for-saving-us’ hug. This was a ‘you’re-alive-you’re-alive-you’re-alive‘ hug and John had ignored the looks from the other half-mad scientists to curl his hands around Rodney’s shaking shoulders.

On the Daedalus, John didn’t want to look desperate, so he just made time to walk past the rooms he knew Rodney had commandeered several times a day. Rodney must have secretly learned something on all those missions, because John didn’t see him even once. He was, however, beginning to get strange looks from the crew. In his defense, flying across two galaxies on a spaceship was a lot less exciting than he’d been led to believe.

It wasn’t until their sixth day in space that John managed to catch Rodney, at three twenty-two AM Greenwich Mean Time (one twenty-two PM Atlantis Standard Time).

“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said amicably, with a well-practiced surprised look.

“Major,” Rodney sneered, clasping his hands behind his back. “Shouldn’t you be in bed right now? Speeches to plan, generals to disobey, suicides to commit?”

“I was thinking about making a noose with my shoelaces,” he said. “Seriously, McKay, what’s your problem? I thought we were cool?”

Rodney’s expression darkened even more. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get some sleep. I’ve been up for over twenty-four hours studying Asgard technology.”

When Rodney left without telling him how fascinating the tech was, or how stupid the crew of the Daedalus and the Asgard were, John felt a pang of something almost like regret, tinged with boredom and teammate-loneliness. He showed up the same time the next day, freshly-showered and pissed off, and he nearly missed Rodney tip-toeing down the corridor.

“Is it cold up there on that cross?” he asked.

Rodney jumped about a foot in the air. “Jesus Christ on a– Oh, it’s you,” he said disdainfully.

“Of course it’s me,” John said. “Who else would be crazy enough to be trying to get your attention?”

Rodney looked indignant. “You think you’re really funny, don’t you.”

“I do,” John admitted.

“I don’t have time for this,” Rodney seethed, pushing past him.

John wasn’t going to let Rodney get away so easily. He trotted up beside him. “Sure you do, McKay. We’ve got nothing but time. So why don’t you drop the high-and-mighty act and tell me what’s going on here, because I get the feeling you’re pretty pissed off at me, and I’d like to know why.”

Rodney stopped in the middle of the corridor and stared at John like he’d said the Earth was flat, or his cat was ugly, or something. “What’s going on, Sheppard, is while you’ve been planning surfing, or skydiving, or whatever it is you want to do your summer vacation, I’ve been trying to calculate just how badly I’d fucked up so you had to die to save us. But a few days ago it occurred to me: hey, it wasn’t my fault at all. If you’d just waited five minutes, I would’ve fixed the control chair. So I naturally concluded you’re reckless and crazy, and I don’t know why I’m surprised, considering all the stupid–”

“We didn’t have five minutes,” John interrupted.

On the jumper with the nuke, he had panicked and hyperventilated and thought about finding God at the last minute, but he had never once considered altering his course.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he said.

Rodney’s face turned a scary shade of purple. “Oh really. Good for you, Major. Make sure to tell me next time you want to kill yourself so I can make arrangements be on the other side of the galaxy.”

“What the hell do you want from me?” John snapped. “I saved your life a few days ago; you think you’d be a little more happy about that.”

“Well, excuse me for not wanting someone I care about to kill himself!”

“You–” He stopped. “You care about me?”

Rodney fidgeted, flustered now on top of angry. “Of course I do, I care about everyone in Atlantis– well, some more than others, certainly, but– we work closely together, after all, and–”

“You care about me,” John said in a sing-song tone. Smirking, he tapped Rodney on the chest with a finger, and Rodney took a step backwards. “You’re not mad at me at all. You love me.”

He meant it as a joke, but Rodney froze.

“Oh,” John said. He dropped his hands to his sides.

He’d thought about this before, late, late at night when he was half asleep. In his head, Rodney had ended his confession by running away. John would go to his door in the middle of the night; he’d answer wide awake because he wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing John knew, and John would say (fearfully, yet seductively), “Let’s do this,” and Rodney would reply, “I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses.” Then they’d get on with the mad monkey sex.

But his fantasy hadn’t taken Rodney’s bravado into account. Instead of fleeing from embarrassment, Rodney said haughtily, “Yes, ‘oh.’ I know this comes as a surprise to you, but you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Strangely, that was a lot hotter than Rodney waiting in the dark for him. John was sick in the head.

“No, it’s cool,” John said hurriedly, trying to think of something smooth to say, anything other than, “Take me now, you arrogant bastard!”

“I don’t want to have to ‘deal’ with it,” he added.

Rodney squinted at him for a brief moment. Then he smirked. “I knew it! Zelenka said you have a thing for me, but I thought he was just being a yenta.”

Rodney always knocked John off his feet. He put his hands on his hips, feeling disoriented. “Maybe I meant it the other way. Maybe I meant I was going to kick your ass.”

“Ha! Oh, that’s hilarious, you a gay basher,” Rodney said. He snapped his fingers. “Right. Okay, your room or mine?”

“Uh,” John said.

“Of course, how stupid of me, my room’s much bigger. And I have my prescription mattress.”

“Uh,” John repeated, looking up and down the ship’s dark corridor.

Rodney grabbed his arm and started dragging him towards the bunks. “Sex now, common sense later.”

Well, who was he to argue with that?

*

Smelding.

“Mmm, that was better than I expected.”

Ronon ran his fingers through Elizabeth’s hair, and she couldn’t help but smile. She stroked his solid, muscular chest, feeling like she was made out of rubber. In a good way. “You’ve thought about us before?”

“No, I meant sex. That was my first time,” Ronon said.

She pushed herself off him so quickly she fell off the bed. “You were a virgin?”

“We don’t have recreational sex on Sateda,” Ronon said, leaning over the bed to frown at her as she lay on the floor, back smarting. “That’s wrong.”

Heart hammering in her chest so hard she thought she’d pass out — she wouldn’t laugh behind Rodney’s back at his panic attacks anymore after this — she pulled the thin sheet off the floor and wrapped it around her body. She sucked in a few deep breaths, trying to slow down her pulse, searching for something to say other than, “I haven’t slept with a virgin in twenty-five years!” or, “On Earth, we have a custom where when we take someone’s virginity, we never speak to them again. But you can’t ask anyone if that’s true, because we don’t talk about it, either.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. She gripped the sheet and tried to look dignified. “Okay. Obviously, we need to talk about this. How do you feel?”

He wiggled a bit. She firmly kept her eyes on his handsome, chiseled face. “I could use a shower.”

Another breath. “No, Ronon, how do you feel about us?”

Most men would’ve freaked out at the idea of having this conversation. But Ronon smiled at her gently and ran his fingers up the inside of her arm. She shivered. “Great. You?”

She couldn’t fight this; he was entirely too hot. He tugged on the sheet tucked underneath her breasts, drawing her closer. She pushed his hand away, trying to maintain some sense of control; he grinned fiendishly, and pulled until she fell across his lap.

Out of all the men in Atlantis, she’d chosen to sleep with Stackhouse first because he respected her (he’d even gone as far as calling her “ma’am” in bed, which should have bothered her), and more importantly, he was nothing like Simon. After that first step, she’d felt liberated. But Ronon, she decided happily, feeling him harden against her once more, would’ve made Simon cry like a little girl. She liked that idea a lot.

“Fine,” she said, letting the bed sheet slide to the ground, “but this is our little secret.”

Ronon rolled her onto her back. “Everything you people do is a secret.”

*

Even though she was still tingly and sore, Elizabeth forced herself to get up. There were more important things to do on Smelding than have passionate sex with a young, supple man who’d never before known the touch of a woman. At the sight of Ronon’s naked backside it took her a moment to remember what those important things were, but she made herself finish getting dressed. Ronon raised his head from the red satin pillow, eyes fuzzy, and she said quietly, “I’m going to see what that Instrument of Eternal Life’s all about.”

He slid out of bed. “I’m going with you.”

With Ronon’s impossibly good hearing, they kept one step ahead of the palace guards, who marched around the castle in heavy metal-tipped boots. But at the door to the room that held the Instrument, they came across two more guards.

“You stay here,” Elizabeth whispered, “I’ll–”

But Ronon was already moving forward. Before the guards could even cry out, he’d knocked the both of them unconscious.

Elizabeth stared. “That was much easier than my plan,” she confessed. He smiled at her crookedly. “Just don’t– just don’t kill anyone. We don’t want to make enemies of these people.”

Ronon dragged the unconscious bodies into the room with them. From her jacket pockets, Elizabeth removed a digital camera and a life signs detector. She felt like a Star Trek character as she scanned the Instrument of Eternal Life. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary going on. It was just a plain, ordinary knife.

Just as she noticed the little dots on the detector moving, Ronon touched her arm more gently than he would have the day before. “Hurry up, I can hear the guards.”

She tucked the life signs detector into her pocket and snapped a few photos with her camera, while Ronon shifted anxiously.

Then the king’s guards kicked in the door.

Ronon started immediately, whipping out his blaster pistol and stunning the first few guards to come through. She’d never seen him fight before, and watching his huge fists slam into the much smaller — but still larger than her — men made her pause a second too long.

A guard grabbed her by the arms. She cried out, struggling in his tight grasp, but he grinned down at her with blue-lined gums. “We were wrong about the last woman from your planet; you’re the witch, not her,” he said harshly, and she knew this was the head guard with whom Teyla had fought. He wrenched her wrists above her head and called to the others, “Witch! I’ve got the witch!”

Elizabeth saw the dismayed look on Ronon’s face, and the blood-thirsty ones on the few guards still conscious, and for a second, her mind cleared of fear.

Hands still held above her head, she did the one thing she could think of: she kicked the head guard in the balls.

“What are the odds?” he wheezed, and doubled over.

*

II.

Two months after Smelding.

Rodney grumbled and huffed and stomped around the entire time John was preparing to get married. John couldn’t help but roll his eyes; it wasn’t like it was legally binding, and what did Rodney think he was going to do, sleep with the entire tribe? None of them were ridiculously good looking, in his opinion, and he doubted any of them could explain how a black hole worked — both being very important standards one must have met before being considered worthy of dating (or sleeping with) John Sheppard. Other qualifications included being a super hero, owning a plane, and/or knowing how to kill a man seven different ways with just one finger, because John wasn’t as easy as he looked. He always figured Rodney’s genius-level intelligence and problem-solving skills were worthy of being under the super hero category, but he was never telling Rodney that, especially after he called John “Deuce” for the third time in ten minutes.

After being covered in clay, John was wrapped in a white linen sheet. Everyone in the tribe wore feather headdresses, and they all had the same face paint John did. Together, they stood in a circle around John and held hands and sang. It was actually pretty soothing.

Once the song finished, an Elder — Hegal, if John remembered correctly — put his hands on John’s shoulders. “You will now do the Dance of Hector.”

John squirmed. “But I don’t know the–”

“Dance!”

John gulped and looked at his people for support. Rodney covered his face with his hands. Lorne, clearly misunderstanding John wanted help, started to loudly hum the macarena. Ronon and Teyla both looked sort of horrified.

“Uh,” John said, thinking fast, “dancing is forbidden in my culture.”

Hegal looked at him like he knew he was lying. “Whatever,” the old man said, “we’ve already gone this far, we might as well finish the ceremony. Now you will say the Vows of Hector.”

“This Hector guy is really starting to piss me off,” John said.

“What does Hector think about divorce?” Rodney asked loudly.

Hegal ignored them both. “Now repeat after me: ‘Lords of Gregor, we gather today here to join Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard into the tribe of the Gregorians, servants of Hector, the greatest of all the gods in the pantheon. Let the soul and the spirit of the earth give him the strength to protect our people. Let the soul of the fire give him passion. Let the soul of the water give him good health.’“

John echoed the words. Once he finished, Hegal held a giant gourd over John’s head and shook it. Something inside rattled around.

“Okay,” Hegal said. The circle began to break up. “If you wish, you may now partake from the Snack Bar of Hector. Or you can go. Your choice.”

John blinked. “Okay? That’s it? We can go?”

“Yes, but let it be known, for the rest of your life you will be regarded with suspicion,” said Hegal ominously.

“How is that any different than my normal day?” John muttered. He pulled as many feathers out of his hair as he could and adjusted the sheet so it was more like a toga. He walked over to his men, who were not-so-discreetly snickering at him. “Everyone ready to get the hell out of Dodge?”

“I didn’t peg you as a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy, sir,” Lorne said.

“Yes, ha ha, let’s all make fun of the Colonel for prostituting himself to save our lives,” Rodney sneered.

“Okay, I will,” Lorne said snidely.

The Gregorians walked them to the stargate; they said it was an honour, but John figured it was to make sure the Atlantians actually left, especially since some of them were looking at John funny. He didn’t know if it was because he didn’t dance or they just thought he was weird, but as the gate powered up he felt the knot in his stomach start to unclench. They were home free.

He called to the Gregorians, “Bye, Hektat, bye, Hegal, bye, Holan, bye, Hax. It’s been real.”

“Wait,” Ronon said.

John turned just in time to see Ronon pull out his gun and shoot the nearest glaat. It collapsed, stunned.

“Oh crap,” John said.

John, Rodney, Lorne, and Ronon — clutching his glaat to his chest — all fell through the wormhole in a heap. John yelped as he slammed his funny bone on the gateroom floor. Calmly, Teyla and the other soldiers stepped over them.

“Well, John,” Elizabeth said dryly from somewhere above him, “we can’t take you anywhere, can we?”

“Ugh,” he said, resting his forehead on Lorne’s foot.

“I think I broke something,” Rodney complained.

“Like my face?” Lorne asked. John couldn’t see where Lorne’s head was, but his voice was muffled.

“Baa,” said the glaat.

*

III.

Five months after Smelding.

When John’s team returned from the water world of P1X-104, John wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot shower and go to bed for about ten years, preferably with Rodney. Unfortunately, as soon as the debriefing was over, Rodney wandered off to go yell at someone for breaking something. In the locker room, John stripped off his tac vest, pulled a starfish off his wet BDUs, and dug a very unclean towel out of his locker. He squinted at it; he was pretty sure it had been clean yesterday.

John slammed his locker door shut. Ronon was right there, leaning against the lockers. He didn’t look happy.

“What’s up?” John asked tentatively. Ronon had been even more quiet than usual on this mission, replying to John’s orders with just grunts or nods. He hadn’t rolled his eyes at Rodney or shared knowing glances with Teyla even once.

“Just before the mission, Elizabeth and I had a checkup,” Ronon said. He added, “For the baby,” as if John had forgotten or something.

“Everything okay?” John asked.

“My firstborn is a girl,” Ronon said.

“Hey, congratulations,” John said. He smiled genuinely. “That’s great.”

Ronon’s eyes narrowed to slits. “No, it’s not,” he said tightly. “No girl has been born into the Dex family for over ten generations.”

John started peeling off his wet jacket. “I’m not following.”

“It’s my people’s belief only deviants and sinners have girls.”

Sateda sounded like a really great place. “What do you think you did?” John asked. He finally finished wrestling with his jacket and let it fall to the bench in a sloppy mess.

Ronon looked at him pointedly. “I don’t think I did anything.”

“You think– you think the baby’s not yours?” Ronon lowered his head and arched his brows. It hit John like a slap in the face: “You think the baby’s mine?”

“You spend a lot of time with Elizabeth,” Ronon said. “And I know for certain you’d have nothing but girls, because you’re so… you know.”

“I’m guessing the word you’re thinking of isn’t ‘handsome’ or ‘dashing,’” John said.

Ronon bared his teeth, coming forward. John hated to be the guy to step back, but this was Ronon, who was seven feet tall and could tear him apart limb by limb. Without shifting his gaze, which was burning into John’