Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Christmas on earth was something special.

It was something special mostly because Carson supposed that religious holidays, secularized or otherwise, lost a wee bit of their gleam when a man lived in another galaxy, surrounded by other humans and beset upon by life-sucking alien insect-humanoids. Oh, he was happy to be back for a holiday. They were going to fly over to visit his mother in six days, where they'd buy a Christmas tree and cover it in fire hazards and cook and generally have an enjoyable holiday. But it did lose a few things here and there after enough gating from place to place, and enough god-like creatures that were evolutionarily stepped up humans or parasites.

It was still better than where he'd spent his previous Christmas, or even the Christmas before that. Full of things he wouldn't dream of telling his mother because she was, well. His mum. And it wasn't entirely his story to tell, even if she did have security clearance. Half the story was sitting in the passenger seat, and the reason why he was in a bloody Volvo driving from Colorado Springs, Colorado all the way to New Trier, Illinois.

Beside him, Rodney chewed slowly on a donut, peering out the window and dropping cinnamon and sugar on the map. He'd been nursing his agreed-on ration of two donuts, from when they'd stopped at the Dunkin' Donuts for coffee. "Here, left left!"

Carson pulled the left with a lot less melodrama than the direction was given. "I thought we agreed on advance warning?" he said absently.

It was part of what they did. He'd had to be the replacement for a lot of people for Rodney, and that included the banter of his old team. And they had agreed that he would turn sensibly if Rodney instructed him sensibly. So far that hadn't happened.

"Well, you'll get advanced warning when this map actually matches reality -- look, right there. The street stayed the same on the map and they renamed it on the street sign. And this is a new map!" There was a jab with that shedding donut, but it wasn't really a loss. It was probably going to end up being an excuse for Rodney to put GPS in his car. Both their cars. "The next one is the fourth right. Then we just drive straight until we see the yuppies."

"I can tell this is going to be a fun visit," Carson said as he tried to follow the directions and concentrate on what they were going to do at the same time. "You haven't forgotten that you are here to ask a favor, have you Rodney? And it's a pretty big favor to be asking, even of your sister."

He just hoped she would say yes. It might buy them enough time.

Time for... all sorts of options that might or might not pop up. Options that Rodney might not even want. He finished his donut, and sank back into the seat with a downward twist of his expressive mouth and a quiet snap of the map. "I know. I just -- I have no idea how to even bring it up. I haven't seen her since well before we went to Atlantis. My niece was just..." He made a downwards motion with his hand, knee level.

"She'll probably be a delightful teenager, now, from what you've said, Rodney," Carson replied, even as he noted the transformation of the neighborhood they were driving through into something more affluent. Yuppies. Rodney was right, as usual. Melodramatic, but right. He found himself smiling slightly to himself, and just as quickly the pang of fear that followed anything resembling positive thought.

It had been trained into him, he supposed. Nothing that was good ever stayed that way for long, or didn't have a bad backlash attached to the end of their statement. "She'll be intelligent. Delightful... I wouldn't bet on. Well, maybe. Jeannie would have passed for 'delightful' when she was a teenager."

"I don't remember you ever describing her as that when we talked," Carson replied as he looked at the picture perfect neighborhood managing to look idyllic even in the pale wintry sunshine of a December afternoon. No doubt there were tasteful Christmas lights that would come on in the evening and it was a far cry from the rather bleak weather Scotland had to offer in the depths of winter. "In fact, I seem to remember quite a few other words coming up those nights."

The edge of Rodney's mouth came up, and Carson kept his eyes on the road mostly, but he could tell that Rodney was probably looking at him, the map, and the road in equal shares. "I still dislike the decisions she made. More than dislike -- she threw away just... everything. And do we have to talk about this right now? I'm still trying to work out what to say. I can't just walk up there and say, 'Hi, Jeannie -- it's me, Rodney. I'm back on Earth now, and I've got cancer. Oh, you bought a dog'."

It said a lot that Carson was so inured to this typical Rodney behavior he no longer had those moments of disorientation that most people experienced when they tried to process the fact that, yes, he had actually said that. Either that or it happened so quickly it didn't show any more. The only other person he knew who'd ever done that was John and John...

Well, John had been special in a lot of ways.

"You're right, you can't just say that," he replied. "Firstly because I know she's got some clearance but maybe not enough for everything and it is traditional to have conversation with someone before you hit them with the life and death thing, Rodney."

"Right, right." Rodney sagged against the seatbelt -- Volvo was the company to create and refine the three point harness, Rodney had told him when they'd gone to the dealership to buy it, accidentally selling a car to another customer while they'd been there -- and leaned his elbow on the side of the interior. "I suppose it should wait until after everything else. I hope she's not pregnant or hasn't had a baby recently. I never know what to do with them."

"Well, that'll be one good reason that you are now spending a lot of time with a doctor," Carson replied. "You always tell the mother that their baby is beautiful, and that they have wonderful eyes. Commenting on the smallness of fingernails seems to be a popular option as well." He smiled again and frowned as he slowed down recognizing a street name from their hasty directions.

"Of course they're small. Everything is small. Babies are small. It's not like people expect them to have three inch fingernails like a Wraith, even if I'd take it as a fair warning of what's going to be in the diapers..." Rodney pushed one foot against the non-skid floor mat, and sat up straighter. "What have I told you about Jeannie, exactly? Just jog my memory."

There had been quite a lot over their year imprisonment together. Long rambling stories about how they looked after each other when they were kids. "Jeannie is your older sister, something she never let you forget. She's brilliant...maybe as brilliant as you, I'm not completely clear on that because there was a lot of swearing at that point. She was into physics, and you both spent a lot of time building improbably dangerous experiments and projects. She went to University ahead of you, fell in love... or at least got pregnant and decided to have the baby and get married. At that point you usually degenerate into incoherent rage, Rodney, so I don't know a lot more."

"His name is Caleb, but you can call him 'Caleb'." Rodney had the half-open map balanced on his knees while he folded his arms over his chest. "He's an ad exec. Or something. He probably sits in a huge office with a window and picks his nose all day. For all I know he could spend his life seriously contemplating the new SuperBowl commercials. I'm not sure."

"Well, I'm sure he does well for himself and his family," Carson said diplomatically. "Try not to insult him, Rodney. That would be a really good idea."

Somehow he didn't hold out hope that would work, but he had at least asked him to behave.

Repeatedly. Carson was fully expecting a high stress few days, before they drove back home to catch a plane to the western part of Massachusetts. Then it was all quaint downtowns and his mother hosting dinner for the ladies of her church group, and tree picking and yes. That would be relaxing. It was a goal to focus on. Survive pre-Christmas with the McKays, and all would settle in.

"Carson. He thinks he's intelligent. It's like watching a dog try to talk to you."

"That is exactly the sort of thing that is likely to have your sister withholding that bone marrow," Carson replied. "And you've compared me to a dog once or twice." More than once. Worse in fact when Rodney was going cold turkey from Wraith enzyme. Doctoring for an intelligent man could be very painful. They knew exactly where words would hurt the most.

He could get through this if he thought about the good things. His mother's Christmas dinner. New Year's Eve and the both of them crying to Auld Lang Syne because it was a song that belonged to them, more than it did to everyone else because they were Scottish and it had been written for them and they understood it in a way no one else could. And they'd drink a toast of the finest whiskey in the house -- neat of course -- to his father, to everyone they wouldn't meet again and this year... he was going to be pissed as a newt, falling down drunk by the time they finished that ritual. But first... the Harrowing of the McKays.

Not so bad.

"Right. I wasn't... In the best mental state when I did that." That was as close as he'd get to an apology, as he'd ever gotten, probably closer than anyone had ever gotten. "But uh. Oh, wait, stop! That's their house." There was one car in the driveway, and Rodney leaned up to eye the BMW while Carson braked.

They jerked to an abrupt halt and Carson parked the Volvo, trying to contain his own nerves. He was meeting Rodney's family and in a lot of ways, this was as official as it got. Him and Rodney. Something he'd never thought would happen, and truth be told wouldn't have if not for the imprisonment and then... no John, and somehow rather than drifting apart, they were together and the only constants in each other's lives.

Carson really wanted it to stay that way. He self-consciously looked at himself in the rearview mirror, and made sure he looked respectable and sensible. "Okay. Remember the not insulting rule, Rodney... please."

"Remembering, remembering." Rodney leaned against the door for a moment, looking out. "The last time I was here, Madison was two. Or three. And the neighbors called the police on me. It was sort of funny, retrospectively. I showed up early and was sitting on the front steps. I thought she wasn't home because there wasn't a car in the driveway, but go figure, she had it in the shop and was getting around by taxi."

Carson blinked a little. "Knocking on the door didn't occur to you?" He could picture the scene all too readily in his head. Rodney making an assumption, basing everything on information he was sure was right and ending up in trouble for it. Sometimes it amazed him Rodney was still alive. But he was, they were alive, out of all of them who didn't make it back home.

It was a little amazing that somehow his meager survival skills combined with Rodney's had gotten them out alive where hearty, well trained marines had died. "I didn't think she was home. Why would I knock on the door to an empty house?" He unbuckled his seatbelt, and sucked in a somewhat unsteady breath. "So, uh..."

"So you didn't." Carson nodded and then glanced over at Rodney and smiled. He reached over just for a moment, a natural stroke at the back of the neck that had become a near habit, even if Rodney didn't have ragged long hair there any more with a tendency to curl just a little. "Just as well you have me along then isn't it?" He took his hand away and unbuckled his own seatbelt. "Ready?"

"No, but we're going in anyway. Just... leave everything in the car." And possibly Rodney himself, if he thought he could have gotten away with it. He stopped long enough, stalled long enough to pull up the zipper of his jacket before he popped open the passenger door. Cold air snuck in right away.

Carson got out and started up the path, looking back over his shoulder. "You did tell her we were coming, right?" he asked.

Rodney had a distracted, worried look on his face as he followed Carson up the little sidewalk that led to the front door. "What? Of course. You were there when I told her we were going to come by, and when."

"I don't remember you mentioning a specific time," Carson said. But he could've been distracted. Rodney did that to him a lot. He'd be thinking one thing and get derailed very easily.

And when Rodney got derailed, he liked to drag everyone else with him. "No. I wasn't sure when we'd get here. It was a thirteen hour drive, and I wasn't sure when we'd... actually leave." Or whether Rodney would end up distracting them or not. But packing the night before had helped, and he'd half-watched when Rodney had gotten up that morning and stuffed power bars into the nooks and crannies of their luggage.

That was an addiction Rodney had kept on from their Atlantis days. Carson sighed a little and mentally tried to remember where the last hotel or motel they had passed actually was because it looked like they wouldn't be staying at Rodney's sister's tonight. "Okay. Let's try that knocking on the door thing shall we?"

"Smartass." He almost choked on a laugh because Rodney said it with a straight face before he stomped up the three stairs and rang the doorbell.

Carson could hear the sounds of someone running to the door, and the door was open by a teenage girl, who had been evidently expecting someone else. "Hi... um... Can I help you?" she asked with a polite smile though Carson noticed she quirked her head to one side just like Rodney did. It made him smile a little.

She was blonde, with brown eyes and not blue, but her mouth was that same straight-struck line as Rodney's, except covered in lip-gloss. It actually helped quite a bit, and Carson suspected that she only sometimes looked like a Muppet when she talked. "Madison? You -- wow, you grew up."

"Do I... oh hey, you must be Uncle Rodney!" she said, showing she did have a quick uptake after all. "Mom! Uncle Rodney's here! Mom said you were coming to visit. Sorry, I was expecting my friend Alicia, we're going out and I thought you were her. Uh...come in, mom's around somewhere. She might be doing something on her laptop. She gets a bit... uh... you know..." She made a vague sort of hand gesture glancing at them both a moment and Carson smiled.

"Yes, I think I know what you mean," he said and her face lit up.

"You have the coolest accent ever!"

"He's Scottish." Rodney said it with a smile, and then seemed to realize some semblance of manners. "Oh, uh, Madison? This is Doctor Carson Beckett. Carson, this is my niece. About ten years older than I remember her being." He said all of that while he wandered into the front hallway, stopping the transition from biting cold to warm only to scrape his boots off on the doormat.

"That'll be because it's been at least ten years since you've seen her, Rodney," a voice said from another doorway.

Carson looked around and saw someone who had to be Jeannie because she looked like Rodney, even sounded like him with that edge in her voice. "You must be Jeannie," he said in his warm brogue. "I'm really pleased to meet you."

"And I'm pleased and curious to meet anyone who gets the distinction of being introduced by name, rather than as 'one of the imbeciles I work with'," Jeannie replied and smiled at him, before focusing her attention on Rodney. "My little brother, come in from the cold at last."

"You have no idea." The edges of his mouth pulled up, and he walked towards her. "I, uh. I'm sorry I didn't write or visit before now. But I do have about a seven year span of time that I have a really good excuse for." He gestured the length of time with his hands, then hesitated and half-lunged to hug her.

The main problem was that Jeannie had gone to do exactly the same thing at the same time. The resulting hug was more of a collision than an embrace and Carson found himself wincing slightly as he watched them. Not that it seemed to stop Jeannie at all. Oh no.

"A good excuse, huh? Like that one where you sent me a dissertation on the theory of relativity to explain why you forgot my birthday?" she asked. "Which was a complete load of... well, it was insulting how little thought you'd put into it."

"I was drunk?" The very fact that it was a question made Carson smile; because it was the best sign in the world that Rodney was lying.

Madison tapped his shoulder. "Dr. Beckett? Can I stuff your coat in the closet? Oh, hey, Mom? Are they staying?"

"Yes, because my brother has a lot of explaining to do and even at the speed he talks it's going to take a while," Jeannie said. "Drunk... Of course you weren't. You fall asleep when you're drunk. "

He could already tell that it was going to be a lovely vacation, and started to shrug out of his heavy coat. "I do not." There was a pause, and Rodney added, "...anymore. Three years of Czech moonshine as a sometimes after dinner wine put a stop to that."

Carson handed over his coat with a polite thank you to Madison.

"Czech moonshine? Rodney, have you fallen into corrupted ways?" Jeannie replied though she was smiling. "You'll be telling me soon that you can't figure equations anymore and then I'll be really shocked."

Madison took Rodney's coat from him still looking at him curiously. "Come on, through. I guessed you'd be turning up for dinner. That's one thing that's a universal constant."

Rodney grinned a little, at Madison, at his sister. The edges of his expression looked a little dazed and a little fascinated. Not that Carson was surprised, when Rodney had apparently been expecting to find Jeannie miserable and his niece possibly a wreck. She seemed like a sweet girl, though, and Jeannie had an ease around her eyes. "That a McKay will magically sense when dinner's being served? There isn't any, uh, citrus, is there?"

"Well of course I did duck a l'orange because I wanted to see my brother flailing around in a fatal allergic reaction. Just as well you brought your own doctor with you. Of course if he's a Doctor in physics that won't help much," Jeannie said in almost exactly the same tone that Rodney used.

"Uh, I'm a medical Doctor actually," Carson felt he had to put in.

"Dear god, I'm amazed. I hope you don't feed his hypochondria," Jeannie said and Carson just shook his head a little sadly at the bitter irony that Jeannie was unconsciously stepping into.

There was a snort that passed for a laugh from Rodney as he followed his sister into the house, living room first. It was nice. The furniture certainly wasn't run down, but it didn't have that museum quality feel that some places did, that made one afraid to sit down on the sofa. "No, he doesn't." Rodney slipped his hands into his pockets, fidgety, and stopped to pick up a photograph of Jeannie, Madison and a man who Carson could assume was Caleb.

"Caleb will be back a bit later, he's had some things to finish up at the office," Jeannie said automatically noticing what he did. Another McKay trait then, picking up on anything and everything going on. Even so, Carson wasn't seeing the brilliance that Rodney usually flourished around wildly for the world -- several worlds and selected galaxies -- to see.

Madison was still watching Rodney as if he was something strange and wonderful. "Uncle Rodney? Did you really make an atomic bomb when you were my age? For a science fair?"

God, Rodney could make atomic bombs in his sleep by now.

"Yeah. I didn't have the fissionable material -- but it would have worked if I had. Which was why the FBI came to talk to me." The edges of Rodney's mouth pulled up in reminiscence. Carson could imagine a little Rodney crowing delightedly that it would have worked and not quite grasping that he was being investigated for criminal charges. "Now I can make them as easy as changing the oil on your car." Too much exposure to them, and the sun and a hundred other things that built up. "Anyway. What are you interested in, Madison?"

"Not sure yet," Madison said with a shrug. "I like lots of things and I'm okay at most things."

Behind her, Carson could see Jeannie doing that miming thing that Rodney sometimes did when he thought he was being subtle. The general gist appeared to be that Madison was pretty bright at most things.

"I'm thinking about being a doctor though. Doctors save lives. I think that's pretty cool."

And then there were all of the times that they didn't save lives. Then again, if someone had told Carson about how often things went wrong when he was her age, he would have scoffed and shrugged it off. "It's a voodoo science," Rodney scoffed. But he gave Carson a look that said it was all gently meant bait, and he put down the photograph.

"He always says that," Carson said to show he didn't take anything personally. "Probably because he doesn't understand it."

"Well, I don't understand it either," Jeannie replied. "But if Madison wants to do that, I'll be proud of her."

"Good. Good, great." Rodney looked around the living room, and only took the cue to sit down once Jeannie sat down. It was almost a little painful to watch them exhibit the same gestures and motions. "You have a nice house. Well, I mean it was nice the last time I was here but it also looked like a 1980 music video had attacked the walls. This is just... nice."

"Madison turned out to have a passionate dislike of minimalist chrome 80's retro style when she was a toddler," Jeannie replied looking at him. "So... are you going to tell me what you've been doing? For so long? Hmm?"

Evidently that had been the equivalent of easing into discussion.

Carson glanced around, and ended up sitting on the sofa beside Rodney. There, that was nice and casual, about as far apart from each other as they'd been in the car. And that had been hours longer. His knees were still aching from that last two-hour stint of driving and having to brake quickly because Rodney couldn't be bothered to give advance warning about turns.

Rodney started to open his mouth, and gave Madison a sideways glance. "I've been working for the Air Force."

"Well, yes." Jeannie dismissed that with a wave of her hand that disturbed Carson with its familiarity. "What I meant was..."

The doorbell rang again. "That'll be Alicia!" Madison announced. "Is it still okay if I go, Mom? I don't want to miss Uncle Rodney's visit. "

"Yes, yes... He'll be around for a few days. We can get the boring things out of the way while you're out." Jeannie replied. "Don't forget what I said about your father not being happy if he finds out you've been seeing that Housen boy again. And I will be checking up later. Understood?"

Madison grimaced a little but bounced up, giving Rodney a brief hug on her way out. "See you tomorrow, Uncle Rodney!" she said before there were the excitable sounds of two teenage girls meeting up after an absence of at least a few hours.

Rodney twisted around a little to watch the whirlwind of her pulling on her coat and grabbing her purse, and then made a noise as she closed the door behind her. Then he smirked at Jeannie. "You used to do that. Right over top of our parents arguing."

"I know, it annoyed the hell out of them both, especially when I told them if they were arguing about something interesting then I might be tempted to stay in," Jeannie smirked back and she seemed to shed years and the need to appear responsible. "So. Air Force. Come on Rodney, I have better clearance than that. I want to know what's been going on."

"You have better clearance than that because I asked them to see if you could be given it so you could join the project I was on." There was an edge to Rodney's voice, but then it fell away, and he settled against the sofa, folding his arms over his chest. "It went to hell anyway. I'm glad you didn't say yes."

"Oh really? I seem to remember you degenerating into 'chances of a lifetime', 'pushing back the borders of known science' and Nobel prizes in our last discussion," Jeannie said, looking suddenly worried. "Okay, I'll bite. Rodney you are being entirely too polite and too nice. Frankly it's freaking me out."

"It was the chance of a lifetime. We have pushed back the borders of known science. And then..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders a little. "What were you told? When they asked you to join the program?"

"I know about the Stargate," Jeannie replied, and Carson was surprised at that. "It's hard not to work out something like that when they start bouncing questions about wormhole theory at you and then act surprised when you deduce they have a stable wormhole device, based on the equations they're flashing under your nose." She smiled a little and gestured airily. "They gave me one level of clearance at the start of the conversation. Fifteen minutes later, I'd forced another couple of levels out of them."

"Great. We... can gate within our Galaxy. And to one other galaxy -- and that's where Carson and I were. It's hard to write postcards when you're cut off from Earth." Rodney shifted his hands restlessly, and finally rested one on his own knee and one on the arm of the sofa. "It's... It was amazing and the best thing any of us ever did and then we found out why the race that made the Stargates... left that galaxy."

"The Big Bad." Jeannie's eye's looked bright and sharp. "Or one of them. They're light on military details, but I'm not an idiot. When they want equations for a warship to manage an intergalactic journey, I can work out that it's not all sweetness and light."

Carson watched her, aware that his eyes were wide in the form of some sort of amazement. He would've never have thought Jeannie even was aware of these things. He half believed that those who knew were touched by the knowledge somehow, ruined by it. And she had to be talking about the Daedalus. Jeannie had been one of the ones working on Earth-compatible systems for the Daedalus and that seemed impossible.

"The warship actually did make it. To us, which was great because we were running out of personnel and food and all sorts of things you never think you're going to miss until you can't even replicate it. And for a couple of years of it, we managed. We did amazing things. Carson and I went to a planet for a -- the planet had a shield, and a way of population control, and we were just there so I could fix the shield and Carson was doing his thing. We were captured by another, a sort of 1940's era Soviet people, and, and..." And Rodney didn't like to talk about it.

"And, and... you can make atomic bombs as easily as changing the oil in your car." Jeannie wasn't smiling now.

God, she was sharp. Carson felt uncomfortable -- what had he given away when he was busy underestimating her? She'd put that together fast and it reminded him of the early days with Rodney when A lead to F, taking a detour via X and occasionally ending up in a different alphabet completely.

"It's a difficult memory for him," he cautioned Jeannie in his soft accent. For both of them.

Jeannie barely looked at him. "How long?"

"Over a year. Give or take. Time is very subjective when different planets rotate at their different speeds. In the city, we used to have clocks that were set specifically to GMT, and they'd say it was 2 am and the planet's time said it was lunchtime. 26 hour days." Rodney's eyes glanced to Carson, and then back to his sister. "I think their days were 28 hour. Or 30. They lived underground, so it was twice as subjective, although--"

"It was a long time," Carson interrupted. "But in the end Rodney got us out. He has become very good at this sort ofthing." That always made Rodney feel better, remembering that he was the one who had rescued them in the end. That he'd been able to do something instead of wondering why no one had ever come for them. It had made it easier that they'd rescued themselves when they learned that there wasn't anyone left to have not rescued them.

"I'm impressed, Rodney. You were always better at on the fly solutions," Jeannie said. "And I was better at the long hand calculations."

"Your theory ends up being sounder than mine. When you don't have time to run a simulation, you just... do it." Rodney trailed off a little, and then glanced at Jeannie. "I'm glad you weren't on the expedition. Most of us are presumed dead right now. The 'Big Bad' attacked the city, and they self-destructed it. The warship is still doing sweeps looking for personnel." It was strange how quickly Rodney could condense that together into a simple story. Years of their lives, crushed together in a few lungs full of words, deep emotions skirted over the horror of learning that they were one of the few.

Jeannie nodded. "You're home now," she said as if they hadn't regarded Atlantis as home for a long time. "So what are you and your... friend doing now?"

"I'm teaching physics at the University of Colorado in Colorado Springs. Carson's still with the SGC. Technically so am I, but we're not really..." He waved a hand a little. "Active." Carson was too much of a risk to have going through gates, and Rodney, well.

Rodney was dying, even if he didn't seem like it. Even if he still looked mostly healthy for Rodney, eyes bright and his mouth everywhere, smiling, frowning, everything.

He had a chronic form of leukemia from the radiation exposure that the Genii had forced on him and Carson just wanted more time. More time to find an answer, for a Tok'ra host to be needed, for some weird and wacky alien race to give him the chances they needed. They'd give the okay for Rodney McKay, he knew they would. And if they didn't he'd find a way to get Rodney and a cure together...

He was always so disappointed that the Ancient database currently in his head was incomprehensible to the point of being worse than useless on the subject of healing, talking about energy resonances, and channeling forces that could be embedded into the DNA or developed as part of their steps to ever elusive Ascension.

No wonder Rodney called it a voodoo science.

"Teaching? Dear god Rodney, what have those poor students ever done to you?" Jeannie asked in mock horror. "You don't have the patience to teach!"

Rodney stretched his legs out in front of him, shrugging his shoulders. "Not really, no. I'm more there for their research funding. I've been trying to get Carson to research the possibility that twenty-first century co-eds are actually devolving into a new species."

"I said I wasn't in the business of proving a sure thing," Carson added to the conversation. It surprised him; the pair of them seemed genuinely to care about each other and he'd thought that family wasn't a big thing for Rodney. Once again, he was wrong. It was a feeling he was used to.

"So how much of 'friends' are you two anyway?" Jeannie asked in a direct tone of voice.

"Hmn?" Rodney lifted his chin a little, still half-watching his sister. He was absently rubbing a circle into the taupe fabric. "What do you mean?"

"I mean do you sleep together or not?" Jeannie asked bluntly and Carson found himself at a little bit of a loss for words. Did he admit to it? He'd agreed not to bring it up, not to hint to anything and generally follow Rodney's lead. And now this. He began to think he was wrong about surviving a few days here.

There was expecting Rodney's sister to be, well, a little like him, and then there was finding out she was just like him, only with better manners and a normal-seeming way of acting. Rodney's eyebrows drew together and Carson could almost see the words forming in his mind but not leaving his mouth.

"Don't even think about lying to me," Jeannie said. "Because that would be really, really stupid. Total waste of time. I knew you were gay before you did. Either that or really weirdly sexually aligned with supercolliders and strange particles."

"Subspace vacuums can be very sexually attractive, but... yes. Carson and I are sleeping with each other, but technically I'm a thwarted bisexual." Carson wasn't sure if that made him a less than thwarted bisexual, or how Rodney even defined that concept.

"Thwarted in that Carson won't turn into a woman for you?"

That was enough to make Carson splutter just a little. "Now look here, I'm perfectly happy being a man and as far as I know Rodney hasn't complained about that either!"

"Well he's only been really successful on the gay front so this thwarted bisexual line is a little thin." Jeannie said with a smile. "And if he is gay... then he can't get to shout about me wasting my talents because someone has to pass on the McKay genes."

"If I was straight, Jeannie, I'd be too awkward to -- well, there still wouldn't be any passing on of the genes. Your argument is based on the assumption that I would have had kids under other circumstances and it's a fallacious assumption." He was grinning when he said it, like he'd just won the conversation, and... really, only Rodney could win a conversation by losing.

"Fallacious, shm-allacious." Jeannie dismissed that with a flick of her fingers. "I did the kid thing. I might even do it again. Madison is very bright and I had her early. I'm thinking about having another. If it's a boy I might name him after you.... if I wanted him to get beaten up at school."

Carson was just watching Rodney smile, trying to memorize moments like this. He couldn't help himself, because he had a more than sneaking suspicion that one way or another he was going to lose Rodney. Either to the cancer, or to a cure that took him away from Carson.

If it was the Tok'ra... Then no matter how many times Rodney had told him he didn't think it was a great idea because his skull was a one-seater, Carson had a suspicion that he'd take the chance for his research's sake. It was romantic for someone to pass on an opportunity like that for a relationship, but Rodney wasn't a romantic, and in the end, he'd be going anyway.

One way or the other.

"Only if his first name is 'Doctor' and his middle name is Rodney. I'm not sure how the last name 'Miller' might or might not mitigate circumstances."

"It's a good solid name," Jeannie replied. "And speaking of Doctors, we're being very rude to Dr. Beckett here."

Surprised, he looked at them both. "Oh no, no, it's fine I'm... used to it."

No, that wasn't entirely what he meant to say. Rodney turned a little, and had the decency to look a faintly sheepish, a little tentative. "Sorry." That was something new, something that had started in the Genii cell they were held in.

"I didn't mean it like that," Carson said, matching his expression. "I meant, it's more important that you two get reacquainted, than talk about trivia with me."

He remembered the first time Rodney had apologized to him. It had been a bad, bad day. A really bad day and if either of them had been able to move properly then Rodney wouldn't have stayed still long enough to say the word. He would've been poking at the cell mechanisms, trying to make an escape plan out of a light bulb or something.

It hadn't worked, but it had been something for Rodney to play with, something to do to keep his mind occupied. Sometimes, Carson had thought that the Genii had given them those half-opportunities just so neither of them would go mad with boredom in their down times.

Rodney glanced to Jeannie and gave a shrug of his shoulders, and the next time he said 'sorry' it was far less contrite. "Sorry, his arguments make sense. I don't particularly think that we're going to intimidate him."

"No, I've noticed that," Jeannie replied looking at Carson carefully. "If you were both prisoners together, I'm guessing you know how to put up with a McKay. It's a rare skill... an elite group of people who can manage it."

"Thank you, Jeannie, I'll take that as a compliment." It had been a rare group of people. Elizabeth. Radek. Ronon, Teyla and John... So many things came back to him when he started thinking about it all. He wished it didn't, because it shouldn't be that painful to remember him. Lots of people told them that. They should be proud to remember him and the others, but then those people didn't lose anyone with it. They gained a hero, whereas he and Rodney had lost... a friend.

A lot of friends. It had been a happy miracle that Elizabeth was still alive, even happier that she was heading up the mission to find them. "He knew how to put up with me well before that," Rodney scoffed. "Unless our commander was telling him to play loose with the stimulants for the scientists. Then none of them could, well, stand any of us."

"I thought that was par for the course. Military and civilians not mixing," Jeannie said glancing between them both.

"Aye, well, it started that way and things pretty much changed by necessity," Carson interjected. "Too much technology around there for just military and too much threat for just scientists. My infirmary was a very busy place most of the time."

"And the head of the expedition was civilian. She... Everyone worked together really well. You would've been surprised." Rodney shifted again, a little restless, and bent his knees, shifting upright more. "So that was what I've been up to for the past few years. How have you been? Other than raising Madison in a way that she at least seems like a good kid, and bettering the decor in your living room, and saying no to missions that fail."

"Me? Technically I do consultancy work for the Government. I wash the dishes and calculate energy conversion equations in my head," she smirked. "I've published a reasonable amount of papers under a pseudonym -- Dr. Fred Engels. Most people think I'm a middle-aged neurotic and... uh, bisexually thwarted brilliant man. The String theory equations touch on the practical application of wormhole theory. The interface properties are very similar and it amazes me that no one was connecting the two areas together..."

And they were off and running. Rodney seemed to think it was a daft idea in terms of practical applications to the specific technology of the Stargate, and no, they hadn't made or found any other stable wormholes, and no...

It was a little like Carson imagined an argument inside of Rodney's head would sound.

Jeannie interrupted like Rodney did, made the same extravagant claims to being surrounded by stupidity that Rodney did, and they talked so fast they reached a point where they weren't finishing sentences, just saying a couple of words before the other pounced on it and...

And Carson started to wonder if Jeannie had a lot to do with shaping the Rodney McKay he knew and mostly loved. He didn't say it often enough, but he did say it. Mostly when Rodney wasn't expecting it. He loved Rodney, had done so for a long time. It was worth it for that baffled look on Rodney's face, and the way he reacted after that. They had perhaps a strange relationship, yes, but also one of the most comfortable ones Carson had ever been in. Friendship led elsewhere from the necessity of their situation, and then it had simply... stayed out there, past friendship and into romance, as if turning back from that state was impossible to Rodney.

Listening to them go on was almost a comfort, like listening to Rodney argue with Radek when they were both coasting down from the carefully monitored amphetamines he'd dosed them with.

He'd made a lot of moral compromises for survival, and his medical ethics had taken a hell of a battering. In some ways he'd been able to stay truer to that word when he'd been captive of the Genii with Rodney, than he had being free at Atlantis. And sometimes he felt guilty that he was relieved they hadn't been there when Atlantis had ended. Rodney would never have forgiven himself for not coming up with an idea, for fixing it somehow.

Sometimes he did that, even knowing they weren't there, they couldn't have been there, that even if they had been there, from the sound of it there wouldn't have been anything they could do.

It was a long way away and he was content to watch the siblings bicker back and forth, to wave their hands at each other, to declare one other idiots. To stop in the middle of a random comment and then rattle out the most incredible leap of arcane mathematical speculation that they appeared to be talking gibberish to him. Rodney was having fun, his eyes were bright and he looked alive and more himself than he had for a long time.

"Jeannie...?" Carson almost jumped at the sound of a calmer, mellower voice breaking into the conversation. Rodney twisted around on the sofa, and his face fell a little.

Jeannie's husband was just a little older than them, with impressively chiseled good looks. He reminded Carson a wee bit like Lorne, if Lorne was taller and blond that was edging towards premature grey. He set a briefcase down behind him, and he was eyeing Rodney like Jeannie had let a wild animal into the house.

"You. It's been a while."

"That it has, McKay," Caleb replied. "And you can call me Caleb. I believe I said that before."

"Caleb, sweetheart... this is Dr. Beckett, a friend of Rodney's."

"Pleasure to meet you... Caleb," Carson said amicably. "Please, call me Carson. People call me Dr. Beckett and I start looking for medical notes."

"I didn't know Rodney was bringing a friend. Good to meet you." He extended his hand to Carson, and his tone of voice implied that he was surprised that Rodney had friends at all, let alone people who'd travel with him. Carson shook his hand, determined not to let hostility become a starting point for their relationship and then sat back. "How was the drive up? Rodney, where are you living now? Nevada still, or...?"

"Colorado Springs." Rodney twisted around, peering at Jeannie for a moment. "It was a pretty decent drive. The snow's been sporadic."

"I'm glad you made it down here in good time. Jeannie was surprised to get your call," Caleb said.

Carson could actually see the source of Rodney's irritation with the man. The way he said it, he made it sound like Jeannie's main concerns and excitements in life were calls from out of the blue whereas a minute ago they had been discussing maths and applied physics at a level second to none.

"Well, I've. I haven't been in a position to write or call until recently." And then when he had, Carson had had to coax and mouth words at him while Rodney had stumbled and tried to lie up a reason why he was visiting.

It had been funny when Rodney had slid his thumb half over the mouthpiece, and asked, "What? I can't read lips!"

It had made him roll his eyes and poke Rodney affectionately, but it was obvious that Caleb didn't live in a world where someone could not have access to some form of communication. Therefore, Rodney was negligent and had probably been the source of hurt feelings.

"I'm sure you've been very busy," Caleb replied, going over to stand by his wife in an apparent gesture of solidarity.

Jeannie seemed amused more than anything, and reached up to pat Caleb's hand. "Honey, I'm going to see how close the roast is to being done. Madison's out with friends tonight."

"She seems to be a lovely young lady," Carson cut in with a compliment. It was a safe bet in any circumstance. "A credit to you both."

"She's really smart," Caleb smiled as he pulled at his necktie, loosening it. "Thanks, Jeannie. We had a last minute redesign after a client changed their mind, and I thought I'd never get out of there."

"Sounds very important," Rodney commented. He uncrossed his arms, but it really didn't make him sound more open towards the man.

"If we want to keep a multi-million dollar account, then yes it was," Caleb replied. "Fortunately, we came up with something and I got to come home at a reasonable hour."

Rodney was trying, Becket could see that much. "I understand you are in media design?" he offered before Rodney's tolerance levels gave up completely.

"Ads, actually. Print, internet and TV. This was a business magazine spread -- it's fascinating how color and different levels of sharpness in an image can be used to manipulate the underlying themes." He eyed Carson, and glanced at Rodney. "So, are you a uh, scientist or a real doctor?"

Carson covered a cough of amusement. "I'm a real doctor. And, though I'm doing some research as well nowadays, I still get to pick up a stethoscope and get patients to say 'ah'."

Even if it was more like picking up a stethoscope and asking someone where the alien creature bit them, and really, they thought they had a space STD? What did the rule book say against having sex while out as part of a gateteam?

"So you have your own practice? What brought you stateside from... Scotland?" Because it was easier to make small talk with him than Rodney, so Rodney watched and listened and was no doubt waiting for an excuse to jump down Caleb's throat.

"Oh, an offer I couldn't refuse," Carson said with his most charming smile. "I've been working at some government facilities most recently. That's where I met Rodney. We've been colleagues for some years now."

"I'm sure that's been interesting and trying for you. Or have you gotten over your hypochondria, Rodney?" Caleb flashed a grin.

"Yes, which is more than I can say for your natural personality, Caleb." He was already getting to his feet, but he didn't lunge at Caleb, no, he circled back around the sofa and headed for the kitchen door. "Hey, I think I'm going to see if Jeannie needs help in the kitchen."

Carson guessed he should be grateful for that at least. Still he could make nice with Caleb if that meant Jeannie and Rodney had time to talk together. Alone. At some point during the visit. He suspected his main role here was going to be running interference.

"That's great Rodney... Caleb and I will just carry on our little chat here. I've been out of touch with the sort of things the media industry is up to. So Caleb... tell me about what campaigns you've run recently?"

Even though he didn't have the slightest interest in the world, he was going to feign it, and think forwards to a proper holiday with his mother and Rodney.

Hotel mattresses never felt half as good as his own mattress at home. And the sheets smelled wrong, but it wasn't as if they wouldn't smell wrong no matter where he was sleeping if it was away from home. There were plus sides to hotels. He didn't have to clean the bathroom, ever, and he didn't have to worry about strange, strained sleeping arrangements where he slept in one room and Carson slept in the other, and everyone but Jeannie pretended they were both straight as arrows.

It wasn't a bad hotel. TV set at the end of the bed, that Rodney had turned on to some news channel, turned down low for the moment, 'room service' that was actually an ice bucket and change that someone else had left in a drawer, but that hadn't stopped Rodney from raiding the snack machine for diet sodas and candy to stash away in their room. The view from where he was sprawled out on the bed was pretty decent, too, but Rodney was sort of fond of watching Carson's ass while he dug through his suitcase to find his toothpaste.

"If you find the bag, can you throw me some aspirin?"

"Are you not feeling well, Rodney?" Carson replied half peering around at him. "I knew we should've left earlier. Around about the time where you and Caleb nearly came to blows."

There was something very soothing about Carson's voice and the soft Scottish burr of his accent, although Rodney had heard him get riled up. The first time it happened he'd been so stunned, he wasn't sure what had hit him. Of course it turned out to have been a Genii guard, but that was beside the point.

That was usually beside the point.

"Wasn't that as soon as he came home?" Rodney lifted his head a little, and finally shifted lazily up onto his elbows. There was nothing that felt quite as good as just lying back and feeling his vertebrae snap crackle and pop back into alignment, but if he stayed there much longer, he was going to fall asleep.

"Well, no, I was actually very impressed that you lasted as long as you did," Carson replied and then turned and tossed him a small bottle. "There... don't take too many."

Why Carson always cautioned him that, Rodney didn't know. He took two. He took two to dull the ache behind his eyes just enough that he could relax again. The only time he'd taken more had resulted in Carson asking him what the bloody hell he thought he was doing and didn't he know he could kill himself with that or at least make himself severely ill or--

Or or or. Rodney depressed and popped the safety cap, and shook out two. "Yes, Mom."

"If I didn't know you weren't particularly fond of your mother I would take that as a compliment," Carson said. "Ah, there you are, you little bugger." He brandished the toothpaste triumphantly. "Your sister is very like you. It's uncanny, the resemblance."

"Mmm. My father used to joke that we could have been mistaken for twins. Except that Jeannie had all the personality and social graces and, well." Rodney waved one hand a little, and sat up a little more before he finally gave up and got off of the mattress. He needed something to drink. "It's funny how you don't realize you've missed someone until you meet them again."

"Aye," Carson replied, meandering off to brush his teeth. "I could see that with the two of you. She missed her brother as well. Nice that she was involved with some of the things that helped us though. You should tell her about some of that."

He should. He just wasn't sure how far her clearance went -- even if she was doing the equations, it didn't mean that she necessarily had full --

"I'll tell her about some of that after I get out my laptop. Do you think this hellhole has wifi?" It wasn't something he particularly wanted to do with his cell phone connection, but he could if he jacked the folding keyboard into it...

And kept his head together, and didn't drift off staring at a can of Coke and the ice bucket.

"We are meant to be having a holiday, Rodney," Carson called back around brushing noises and over done sloshing and spitting of water. "Sorry... a vacation." Carson was grinning at him as he corrected himself into American speak. "You could give the laptop a wee bit of a rest now."

Rodney cracked the can open and started to pour. There wasn't a coffee machine in the room, which was both a blessing and a curse since he was pretty sure that he would have declared it a biohazard if it had been there. At least any insects that were living in the hotel were polite enough to stay out of sight as long as the lights were on. "I want to check what Jeannie's exact security clearance is."

"Probably in terms of knowledge several levels higher than what they gave her," Carson said as he re-entered he the room. "She knows most things I think, just not the names we know about. She put together that bit about you and the bombs so fast it was scary. "

"Mmm. Maybe she can make the same mental leap about cancer the same way, and then I won't have to think of a way to bring it up in conversation." He tossed back a mouthful of soda and fizz, and the two aspirin. "Want some?"

"Aspirin? No. Soda? Okay then, but it'll taste like mint to me," Carson said holding his hand out. "You think it might be better to talk to her alone?" he suggested. "We need the bone marrow to buy us more time."

It was funny the way he said 'we' in connection with his cancer. It was like both of them had the disease.

He almost wanted to be indignant about it, but. But Carson was there for him, and Carson worried. Carson probably worried about it more than Rodney did. He'd gotten too used to death coming at him to get too hot and bothered by the idea -- he knew he had another year. Maybe more. Maybe less. But a year was an amazing stretch of time, even if he was wasting two and a half weeks on 'holiday' with no research to speak of being written down.

A year was a lot when he'd gotten used to the daily death-threats from his least favorite Genii commanders and the near doom every time he stepped through Atlantis's gate. "I know. I just... telling her tomorrow doesn't feel right. I'll put it off unless something comes up to lead to it." He held the can out to Carson.

He took it from him, raising his eyebrows a little. "You know we can't put it off forever. We're lucky in that we can maybe plan this a little. We just need a little more time and maybe one of my solutions will bear fruit."

"I meant I'll put it off until we have to leave, not until next year. We'll -- look, if something works, great. And if it doesn't, fine. We've defied the odds for a very long time, Carson." Not happily, no, and not without hitting slips and slides and problems.

Lots of problems. Lots of lingering issues. Rodney watched Carson take a sip and set the soda down.

"Aye...." He sighed a little. "I just worry about you, Rodney. I worry if you're feeling all right, if you're resting like you should, doing too much... because you always are. Not that I'd wish us back there for the world, but sometimes in that cell I could keep an eye on you a bit better. Try and make things a bit better."

It was a strange sentiment, but Rodney let his mind linger on it. Logically, he followed the train of thought -- close quarters meant that Carson could keep an eye on him, that it was just them, and there was something very comfortable about that sort of intense, focused interaction. It was the whole reason why they had a hotel room instead of staying with Jeannie and Madison and that obnoxious bastard his sister called a loving husband.

But the downside to that train of thought was very obvious to Rodney, because his head clouded up with memories and half thoughts and sounds, fears and tastes and smells and sounds. "I... you make things a lot better here, and you keep a great eye on me and can we not talk about then? Because I'd really like to sleep tonight and you'd probably like to sleep tonight by proxy."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories," Carson apologized softly. "Here, why don't we go to bed hmm? There's probably better things to do than think about then. Or we can wonder what streak of insanity made us offer to go Christmas shopping with your sister tomorrow."

"Your streak of insanity. I feigned agreement after you agreed to it in the first place." The topic change was a relief even if it didn't empty out Rodney's brain the way he would have liked it to. It was still there, but the edges of Carson's eyes were tight until Rodney leaned forwards to kiss the edge of his mouth. Carson was very real and solid, the texture of his mouth different than it had been back in that cell. They had all the water they needed, and climate control, so there was no tug of chapped lip against his own.

"Well, I could hardly say no, now could I?" Carson murmured. "To your own sister who knows you are very gay indeed and not bisexually thwarted at all." His hands moved surely and deftly to pull Rodney closer. "She's going to get the pictures of you and her as little ones out soon. I have to stay until then."

"I'll have you know that I've had girlfriends and that Sam Carter..." Thought he was an ass, actually. An ass she respected, sure, but an ass. When he'd met her again at Cheyenne Mountain during part of the debriefing process, she'd invited him out to coffee, but it didn't make him coming-in-his-pants happy the way it would have before Atlantis. It had just been... nice.

A little like talking to the Sam that he'd hallucinated, sans the seduction part.

"Anyway. Thwarted. That's your fault." Rodney twisted a little, walking carefully backwards as he settled his hands on Carson's t-shirt and made the fabric stretch because he couldn't really keep his hands still.

"Well yes. So you keep telling me," Carson replied. "I'm thinking that you think... sex now or possible sex in the future and then go for the certain thing." Carson was probably right, plus the fact that Carson actually seemed to like him, which made him pretty unique.

"The certain thing that's actually willing to go visit my sister with me," Rodney amended as he pressed another kiss against Carson's mouth. "Right, this shirt is a damn pain in the ass, and coming off."

"I'm noticing how it's coming off," Carson said, sounding amused. "I'm noticing also that suddenly you're in a hurry. It's not like I'm going anywhere Rodney."

But there had always been the possibility that he might be. That he might not come back from whatever weird device they had unearthed and needed the ATA gene to activate. Or that things might get worse, they might not survive, Kolya might break his neck or...

Or. Rodney stepped back, breathing a little hard and holding Carson's t-shirt knotted up in his hands. "Yeah. Right. Right. You're not going anywhere and I'm not going anywhere, but I could really use some grounding."

"Ach, well grounding... grounding is something I can do for you," Carson answered leaning close enough to kiss him before, raising his arms so he could get out of the t-shirt. "It's practically medicinal at that."

He managed a quiet laugh, and forced his hands to go looser so he could actually take the t-shirt off. It wasn't as if he had something against being dressed in bed -- Rodney was the first to admit that he'd gotten into the habit of pulling his boxers back on afterwards, and Carson just didn't ask about it -- but he did have things against being dressed and sex. It made it feel illicit and wrong and a hundred other things that it wasn't but that he now had associations with, and it was better to avoid than cope. "So if I ask you to take my temperature..."

Carson chuckled, a low warm sound. "I'll improvise a way to get to the bottom of it all," he said as he shed the shirt, and then his pants in short order. By the time they had been rescued they were in a better condition than they had been with the Genii, but still more wiry than any of the Atlantis team had ever seen them. Elizabeth had been shocked when she'd spotted them both. Carson had some of his bulk back now, but a lot of it was muscle and he was trying to keep it that way. "Come to bed, Rodney, so I can work my devious Scottish ways on you."

Rodney pulled his long-sleeved t-shirt off awkwardly fast, and he was fairly sure that his own pants and boxers removal wasn't that attractive. Then again, he was more interested in Carson, and joining him on the bed was easy to do. Easy to concentrate on because then he didn't get caught up in... stuff that didn't really matter. "Insert sheep joke here."

"I keep telling you that you've got the wrong type of man for the sheep jokes. I'm from too far north for that," Carson said tugging him closer. "Grounding, remember? Grounding involving kissing, fondling and general mishandling of our resident genius."

It would have been funnier if it weren't a fact of life. Rodney leaned in again, and went with Carson down onto the mattress, bumping hands, elbows, and knees for just a second before their mouths met again. "I like the way you mishandle me."

"Lucky for me," Carson replied. "I'm not exactly a Casanova now, but you put up with me." He was much more certain, much more comfortable in how he moved and kissed and touched him. They generated their own passion and they'd found their way there by trial and error.

Accidentally. Comforting each other after bad days, and that was still what they did sometimes, wasn't it? "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" Rodney knelt back for a moment so he didn't fall on Carson, and stretched out against him comfortably, kissing at Carson's neck since he had the opportunity.

"All your female students worship you. Probably most of the male ones too," Carson murmured in his ear. "There's probably a queue of people just waiting for me to mess up."

He wasn't going to mess up if he carried on kissing like that. Carson was an incredible kisser. He wondered absently if there were some correlation between that and having the ATA gene.

But no, no, if there had been there would have been a lot more Ancients in the universe. They would have out-populated the Wraith in no time. "I didn't know that worshipping involves crying to the dean about mean professor McKay." Lips right there, right against his ear. Damn that was nice, distracting him when he was trying to suck at the muscles of Carson's neck, while he was trying to work up to a really good marking of Carson's body.

"Attention seeking behavior," Carson breathed, even as his arm slid around Rodney, warm and comforting. "Otherwise you might forget who they are. I try and make my attention seeking behavior a wee bit more memorable."

And when he kissed him like that, pretty much everything else went out of his head.

His cock was moving past half-hard, sort of awake and thoughtful to alert and easy to press his hips against Carson's, kissing him back now, really kissing him back. Taking control and exchanging it sometimes, tongue sliding into Carson's hot mouth, feeling Carson's groans in his chest. That was good, that was really fucking good, just the two of them and the skin and hair on Carson's thigh rubbing against his cock and Carson's hands under his shoulders, no, Carson's shoulders under his hands, yes, solid and strong.

"So..." Carson managed to gulp a breath somewhere in the proceedings. "Am I taking the high road or the low road tonight?"

It jarred him for a moment, a few long breaths worth of time staring down at Carson with what Rodney hoped was appropriate incredulity. "And I can't make sheep jokes?"

"Maybe just the one," Carson grinned up at him. "Or two. It's a valid question, as you seem to be in a hurry tonight."

"I want to have sex before I fall asleep, not fall asleep during sex. Do you remember the half a day drive up here, or am I the only one of us feeling it?" Sleepy and the urge to kill his brother-in-law creeping into the back of his mind. Rodney leaned down and kissed Carson again, with only a faint edge of frustration to the gesture. He reached for Carson's dick with his other hand. "I'll take the low road. If I'm taking the metaphor correctly."

"I did drive half of the way myself," he jolted a little at the touch and smiled. "And you can take the metaphor any way you want if you keep doing that." Carson liked to oblige him. It was weird, but there it was. In one way it was how it worked, because sometimes he wanted very different things.

Rodney shifted a little, planted his left shoulder against the mattress, and looked down along Carson's body as he settled beside him. Seeing was a fairly important sense, seeing the flushed head of Carson's dick and the contrast of his fingers against that skin as he played with the loose foreskin that had pulled back. Carson fit right in with the Genii with that, and he wasn't going to think, no. He was going to kiss Carson and let himself get lost in it.

"Ohh Rodney, you're definitely a genius," Carson murmured as he put lips to skin. "I agree with at least half the times you've told me that..." Carson was teasing him. He quite often did that to distract him and distracting was a good thing.

Distracting was grounding. He didn't want to take control or make decisions just then because his head was busy enough, and Carson was more than just obliging, he was interested. "I'm shooting for ninety-eight percent with a two percent error." He slipped his thumb around the underside of Carson's cockhead, turning his head to press a kiss against Carson's chest.

"Mmm. Ninety-eight percent is good." He moved then, reaching over to move the situation the way he wanted. "You are more than good, you're great." His hand was sliding down, reaching him, for his cock, in return. "Lie back."

That was easy. The pillows were sort of crappy but manageable, comfortable beneath his head and his shoulders when he lay back, stretching out and stretching his legs loosely. He'd occasionally joked that Carson's fingers were too stubby for surgery and that was why he was a researcher, but they were graceful, comfortable with themselves for fingers. Well-adjusted hands that didn't let people like Rodney get them down, and that was great because Carson did amazing things with them. Slipped them around his dick and down to fondle his balls in a way that made Rodney dig a heel against the mattress, rocking up a little to that motion. "Fuck."

"I think that was the idea, laddie," Carson said, smiling at him again. "You are very easy to please, Rodney... in some things." Like the way he moved his hands, teased him, made him melt while he kissed him.

"Maybe I'm not easy to please and you're just luckily extraordinary at doing that?" But no, he liked sex. He enjoyed it, still, enjoyed Carson's touch a lot, most every day. They knew each other pretty well by then, and Rodney knew there was a thing he could do with Carson's ear that would make him melt as much as the ball-stroking was making Rodney one with the mattress.

Tomorrow, maybe.

"That could be right," Carson replied as he applied his slow methodical nature to Rodney's skin, finding the spot here and that one there... oh and that thing that made him see stars... and, yes maybe doctors knew enough about anatomy to be good at sex.

Mouth against his chest, over his ribs, and fingers almost pressing against him but not, a little high and back behind his balls and even the press of Carson's wrist against him felt good. Rodney shifted his hands, pressing against Carson's back. "That's right, that's right. Fuck me, please, just -- I'm going to come all over your wristwatch if you keep that up."

"One day, Rodney, we're going to do this longer," Carson promised as he fumbled around on the bed, looking for a tube of lube. It seemed forever before he found it, then equally as long before he was pushing cool slick fingers teasingly against his entrance, slipping them in and out firmly and carefully. "Still in a hurry, Rodney?"

No so much now that Carson was doing that. He shifted his hips, moved his legs, and clutched onto Carson a little tighter. Palms flat so his fingers didn't have leverage. He'd bruised Carson's back once upon a time in the Pegasus Galaxy, but he was more careful now. Much more careful. His exhalation said it all to Carson, the way his dick twitched. "I think I can hold out a little longer."

"I'm glad about that because I have a little bit of catching up to do here," Carson murmured and then fell into a familiar gentle but insistent pattern of touch, stroke, tease. He used to joke that one of his best skills from medical school was his ability to find a man's prostate under difficult conditions. They'd proven that boast a few times as well.

"Rodney, god... you are... perfect... you get comfortable now, because I'm just getting one of our prophylactic friends here." He could hear the rustle of Carson undoing a condom. He insisted on using one as it cut down any source of infection and he didn't want to weaken Rodney at all. A small thing, but very thoughtful.

Very strange. Very medical of Carson, but hell. As long as he wasn't pulling on latex gloves for hand jobs and dental dams for blowjobs, condoms were just something that meant Rodney didn't have to go to sleep with a sticky ass. It wasn't a sensation he was fond of -- once, sure, that sloppy just fucked feeling had been something to feel proud of, like proof that hey, he didn't do that with his hand.

"Hey, let me put it on you."

"Well, I'll never say no to a helping hand," Carson replied, and there were enough pauses in his words to make it obvious he was aroused as well.

Not that the hard dick wasn't a hint, once Rodney sat up more and reached to take the condom from Carson's hand. His ass twinged, the good ache that just made his dick weep against his stomach. "See, I knew you wouldn't." He didn't need to look at Carson's dick while he unrolled the condom down his dick. The look on Carson's face, his loose-lipped expression, was what Rodney wanted. That was his doing.

He liked seeing that he had an effect, that he made Carson feel that way. That was what made things different. Carson admitted he wanted him. Needed him. Had even said he'd loved him.

Said it in a way that he meant it, and Rodney loved Carson back. Maybe not in the most romantic or conventional way, but he missed him when he wasn't there and he knew Carson's schedule better than his own, and he enjoyed his company, happy and joking or quiet and sad. That was love, Rodney figured, a love better than what his parents had had.

He leaned up more, kissed Carson and slipped a hand behind his neck once the condom was on, before he laid back. "Just like this."

"If you say so, Rodney," Carson teased just a little, but the willingness was all there even as he shifted into position, his cock hard and pressing into him slowly with intense concentration.

Nice and slow. Rodney bit his bottom lip for a moment, breathing through his nose while he shifted to make it easier, legs bent and it was a shame that neither of them were too damn athletic, but he could press one knee against Carson's ribs and that was spread enough and tilted enough to make it easy, to make it simple for Carson's dick to go in. Nice even stretching burn, yes.

"Easy... Easy now..." Carson slid in slowly, carefully and waited at the point where Rodney hitched his breath, and that point where he stiffened for a moment, and on and on until he was pushed deep and the look of concentration on his face was incredible. And then he started moving.

He rocked, kneeling between Rodney's legs, the muscles of his thighs tensing and shifting with the back and forth. Carson was solid and his dick was solid, and as wound up as Rodney had gotten himself in his own head, that slow, easy movement backed his mind down, soothed him. "God. Fuck, please. You feel wonderful, and I think--" He choked on a groan.

"Don't think, Rodney," Carson soothed as he hit a pace that suited them both. He couldn't think like that, or worry, or stress over what might've been and maybe if and all those other regrets he had. It was like a panacea to halt his anxiety because he knew Carson didn't have to be here, not rocking and moving so gently and inexorably picking up speed. He was choosing to do it. They both had, and it had been so important to them both.

They were both there because they wanted to be there, and not just there in location, but there, in bed, doing -- oh, fuck, that was his prostate, that spark of sensation right through his ass and to his spine and settling in his balls. He pressed his knee tighter against Carson, held on tighter. "Not thinking, can't think when you do that, fuck."

Carson leaned, intensifying his pace a little, letting that be his answer. He knew what Rodney wanted and what he needed. He knew how to hit the spot to make lights behind his eyes, he knew how to stir things up until orgasm was a mere breath away and that was what he did. Not hurrying, but getting there eventually with his own ragged breaths and muscles that trembled a little under strain.

Almost there. Almost there, both of them, and Rodney never knew how Carson did that. Rodney couldn't usually hold out and he ended up giving apologetic blowjobs with a frequency that had stopped being embarrassing probably a year ago. But his stomach was aching a little and his ass felt full and Carson's dick was plowing a spot in him that made everything feel like it was leaking, that made his balls go tight when Carson started to stroke him off with his free hand. Yes, yes, yes, fuck...

And there it was, a burst of pleasure and bone melting relief and satiation. He came into Carson's pumping hand, even as he continued moving to push to his own climax. No apologies needed tonight.

Sharp thrusts and a gasp and Carson got that look he only ever had after an orgasm. When his eyes went slack the way his mouth could, when the muscles of his face went easy and loose and that was how Rodney felt so it made sense that that was how Carson looked.

He held on, lazily now, waiting for Carson to give up with kneeling and just lay down, kissing at the side of his face and his neck and there, Carson was moving, pulling out. It didn't feel half as good going out as it did going in (and never mind that his softening dick still twinged, because that felt funny and ached good at the same time), but the upside to that was that Carson laid down half on top of him once he'd tied and thrown the condom towards the trashcan.

"Feeling... a bit more grounded, Rodney?" Carson asked even as he settled down. He yawned a little, and for a moment his own tiredness was apparent.

"Oh, yeah. Ask me what day it is," Rodney smiled to himself. He could lie there just like that for a while. Then he'd get up, clean himself, and find his boxers, but it could wait. The same with pulling the sheets up. He shifted his hands, slid his arms lazily around Carson, fingers running down his spine.

"I would if I could remember how to speak properly," Carson murmured. "And we didn't break anything this time."

They were both notoriously clumsy during sex, or maybe everyone was and didn't admit it. But usually groping for the lube ended up in a broken lamp or spilled glass, or aiming for the bed had them tripping over a rug or something. Carson only ever laughed and held him closer when they did that, and Rodney warmed a little at that thought. Carson was really everything that things... should be. Even if they were clumsy.

That or their apartment was cluttered. Maybe both.

"Might have something to do with a lack of things to break."

"There is that," Carson agreed and absently stroked away at his left temple, looking at him as if he believed he really was going to make it and everything was going to be okay in the end. For all his fatalistic attitude to things going wrong, Carson had a streak of optimism a mile wide under the surface. That had been one discovery that had surprised him while they were getting to know each other.

He kept hoping. He kept saying things that had really pissed Rodney off like "They'll rescue us," and "We'll get out of here, don't worry," and "He didn't give you brain damage, Rodney, calm down!" and "Sheppard's still alive. Just has to be." Just has to be. Sometimes that was what Rodney had needed to hear, even if now they were so far away from Pegasus that it didn't matter.

Pegasus was Wraith-free, and John was gone. Maybe Ascended. That was always the brighter hope. Rodney turned his head, kissed Carson. Mostly just because he could. Because it felt good.

What he remembered was the way Carson had looked after they had escaped and eventually found a Galaxy indulging in the biggest party ever. The Wraith were gone and Pegasus had gained new legends and Carson had come back in and told him Atlantis was gone. Everyone was gone and those who weren't gone were heroically dead.

Carson had apologized when he told him John was in the latter group, not the former. As if... somehow that would be the point of too much.

It wasn't. Should have been, he supposed, but part of Rodney had already settled in to the idea of John being dead. He'd already mourned him, and living on Dagan, he'd helped Carson mourn him, too. And now neither of them mourned much, well, unless he counted his and Carson's quiet stress that he had to live, had to kick the slow rot.

"Hey." Rodney pulled back a little, peering at Carson. "I'll, uh. I'll be back."

Carson rolled onto his side to let him out. "I'll try not to fall asleep without you," he replied and started pulling at the sheets to actually get in properly even as Rodney headed to the bathroom. He probably would be asleep. He shared Rodney's ability to stay awake for ridiculous amounts of time, but somewhere had developed the ability to fall asleep when he could with hardly any fuss, get the sleep his body needed when he could.

Rodney slipped off of the bed, and fished for his boxers on the way to the bathroom. His rituals in there were simple; a matter of cleanliness and being able to sleep well as much as any of that psychological comfort shit the doctor back at Cheyenne Mountain had given him.

That was the one thing with Kate -- she lived in the place and that gave her a right to be able to offer advice, insight and pick around in people's brains and have an idea where they were coming from. A doctor who had probably never made it further than his office door just didn't get any credibility from people who had been so unimaginably far from home.

No, he would clean up, he would sleep and tomorrow they would shop with his sister and... somewhere, he would try and ask if she'd mind parting with some bone marrow. He just didn't know how to bring it up. He struggled with the basics of human interaction sometimes...

Rodney turned the tap off after he'd cleaned off his stomach, wiped himself down, cleaned lube off his ass. He'd always struggled with that, always screwed it up, and it didn't matter. Except this was family and his sister and a huge thing he was asking for.

Well, if he screwed it up, it was all on his shoulders and not Carson's. Carson didn't need that weight on his shoulders. He had enough he did for Rodney without much thought and no complaint.

It was easy to turn off the lights behind him, easy to pull the sheets down on his side of the bed, grabbing the pillow and dragging it with him as he settled close to Carson.

There was a moment's silence in the dark that had him thinking Carson had fallen asleep, but that was before a warm arm drape over him and a warm solid body spooned into him as if recognizing the somber turn his thoughts were taking. Carson didn't say anything, just patted at him comfortingly telling him in non-verbal language, that he was there, and it was okay to go to sleep now, there was someone watching his back. Only he would know the history behind that habit and how much it meant, but it was part of the ritual.

That was mostly all they had. Rituals and habits and each other, enough things strung together to let Rodney go to sleep peacefully, grounded by it all.

Carson had been shopping with Rodney before and just about lived to tell the tale intact. Rodney was the sort of customer that got written up in blogs and communities across the internet to the disbelief of all. But Carson had survived that and eventually they had drunk enough of the coffee types he had bought to get back into the kitchen again.

However, today was a different experience. Shopping with not one but two McKays, and Carson might have survived the Wraith and the Genii and lord knew how many other experiences, but after several hours he was starting to feel he wasn't going to make it out of this retail experience alive.

The pair of them talked continuously, rapid hands frequently waving vigorously enough to give shop assistants ulcers with anxiety about what would go flying next. As it happened, they were miraculously not hitting things. Carson was just following, wincing every now and then as one or other of them would say something a little too loud. Currently, Jeannie's, "Yes, well, you would think that, but you also suck cock, Rodney," was winning as the comment that turned the most heads in this trip.

It had even made Rodney sputter. Just for a wee bit, not half as long as Carson had blinked for, but then he'd launched back into it with the retort that she also sucked cock, so what was her point?

It wasn't much of a rejoinder.

But Carson was taking ease in the fact that Rodney had been made to carry Jeannie's bags, and that they honestly did have their Christmas shopping done. Rodney had gotten a little quiet while trying to think of something for Elizabeth. Not that she'd be back on Earth for Christmas, no, but it could hold in her base mailbox until she did come back.

"Look, we'll go to Sears," Jeannie said decisively, gesturing in the vague direction of the store. "There's pretty much anything and everything there. We'll find something. Maybe a travel gadget or something. What sort of thing does she like?"

"She likes..." Rodney hesitated, but Carson could have answered it for him. She enjoyed reading and translating, and understanding native cultures, some of the smaller nicer things in life, and finding more of her people alive. "Uh, I'm just not sure what to get her. She's--" And there was another gesture, Rodney pointing his fingers loosely between himself and some far off point. "-- back and forth a lot."

"Something small or something useful," Jeannie replied, heading off in the direction of Sears, and Carson reluctantly sighed and followed. He had a lot of Rodney's presents already. Lots of small things. Meaningful things they had talked about or he had liked. What he really wanted to give him was a cure.

"Besides, Madison could do with a new hairdryer, and if there's one on sale I might just get it as an extra."

Madison was going to do well this year. Even Carson had bought her a present -- a biography he had read that had inspired his ambition to be a doctor without sugar coating how tough it was.

Either it would scare her off or make her want to do it even more, but either way; Jeannie had declared that Madison was a voracious reader, so it wasn't a waste. Rodney had quietly and perhaps only half-joking mourned that it was Caleb's fault that she was interested in the humanities.

"She has a lot of down time with her traveling. I mean, while she's in transit." It wasn't actually all that helpful an addition, but Rodney piped it up hopefully as they walked into the florescent-lit store.

"Well, you could always do something thoughtful," Jeannie poked at him. "Buy her a high memory flash drive and fill it with e-books, music. A discovery present. Doesn't take up much space and a little more useful to her than... a box of chocolates."

Carson was amazed. That was actually... a bloody good idea.

The kind of idea that would make Rodney crow because he'd spent a lot of time picking things to add and it wasn't a space issue. Not with Rodney's compression algorithm. The edges of Rodney's mouth canted upwards, and Carson could see delight in his eyes. "Jeannie, if I wasn't carrying your exceedingly heavy shopping bags, I'd hug you."

"You can do that later," Jeannie said with a smile. "Thoughtfulness will win every time over expense with women. It's one of the universal constants. Hairdryers... here, then the computers and we'll get one or you can... get one online."

Carson was mulling over what they could fit on a flash drive. Some of his favorite music. They'd talked about it enough. Films, maybe? Rodney could compress anything. Rodney could get every report and then some shoved into a databurst of 1.3 seconds. "I might as well pick one up now and start." It would cost thirty or so dollars more, but it wasn't as if Rodney honestly cared. "Carson made the unfortunate mistake of letting me bring my laptop. It can at least plan what to send. So, hairdryers. Right."

"I need something sturdy. I don't know what she does to them. They look like she wages war with them," Jeannie replied looking around. "Ah... this looks familiar. No... wait, that's not the same as the one we've got. "

Rodney fidgeted, and wandered away a little, past Jeannie, down the tightly packed, tile-floored aisle. "Hmn, maybe switch brands. Oh, or you could cut her hair, but I'm not going to be the one to suggest that. I've seen her all of twice that she cognitively knows, if saying hi to her when she caught the bus this morning counts as one."

And when Rodney wandered off like that, it made Carson anxious, made his chest knot up because he wasn't sure what Rodney was going to touch or tinker with. Not that it was malicious, but he'd done it before without even thinking of it, and if Carson was there he could keep Rodney from rewiring a coffee grinder with a few touches and his mind abilities. "Huh. You know, I remember when Kenmore made freezers -- what's with the sewing machine thing?"

Carson was about to say something when he felt the abrupt disorientation he was all too familiar with. What the hell? There was no way anyone could just say the password... but ...bloody hell, Rodney had just said it about a sewing machine. It was meant to be something no one would say and fuck, he hated this bit. The bit where he was locked out of his own body, watching something strange and alien unfold and stretch him from the inside out.

Plus there was the embarrassment that he was completely aware of what was going on, but totally unable to move.

He couldn't move, just stood there stock still, packages still grasped in his hands, while the system came online. Hopefully, hopefully, Rodney would realize what was going on. "Hey, Carson?" Except he couldn't see Carson to know.

He would've loved to answer but the database didn't recognize that as a valid question. He could feel it discard it and take over every system in his body. He couldn't explain what it was like to anyone, though Colonel O'Neill had been surprisingly sympathetic. It was like being on life support, conscious that something else was breathing for him, heart being forced to beat by something else... all of it. He was just stuck until someone asked a question he could answer.

"Carson?" That was Jeannie now, holding the too-large box for some kind of hairdryer. He could see, once she moved into his field of vision. "Rodney, what..."

"Oh, god." Rodney passed a hand over Carson's eyes, and then leaned close enough that Carson normally could have kissed him, hands grasping Carson's shoulders. 'I'm sorry, I didn't, I didn't think, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, uh -- 23,956. Is it prime or not prime?"

Immediately, he felt himself respond, "Not Prime," and the odd thing was, the voice issuing from his lips had no trace of an accent. It felt wrong and alien and he was just staring ahead, nearly rigid. It locked his muscles, his joints, everything even though he could feel Rodney holding his shoulders.

Rodney's hands slid down, and Carson was half-aware that he'd probably dropped their shopping bags in the aisle. But there were hands coming up under his arms, Rodney hugging him and repeating apologies. "System deactivate. System deactivate. Carson, I'm sorry, I didn't..."

What always worried Carson was the fact the system never wanted to deactivate. It always did, but it felt like a battle and there was that horrible moment where it switched off and he hadn't yet got back control of his breathing or anything else. For an incredibly long five seconds, everything stopped no matter how hard he tried to breathe; the messages weren't getting across from his mind to his body.

And then they did and he was left coughing and whooping for air, which was what he did this time.

Rodney was there, already positioned to hold him up. He didn't have his legs under him, needed to breathe and needed to feel his heart beating before thoughts of getting to his feet even crossed his mind. "I didn't think, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh, God..." Rodney was holding him tight, holding him up with his own body.

"Jesus H. Christ, Rodney! How the ...hell did you manage to say THAT word here?" Carson gasped out. It was meant to be a word that had no cultural reference with people around him and normally... well in the Pegasus galaxy it didn't.

Jeannie was close as well. "Rodney? What happened? Carson? Did you have some sort of... seizure?"

"No... no, I... well... use maybe... uh..." Carson was still rattled and didn't know how to explain that he had a rather pernicious alien database that occasionally overrode his head. There was no really sane way to explain it. He couldn't just say, well, there was this database in his head and it was a damn shame he had it because Rodney would at least intellectually appreciate it more, except Rodney was holding onto him, muttering horrified apologies because he just didn't activate the database willy-nilly. Not in stores and not without a reason, any more than Carson asked Rodney to move things with his mind without a damn good reason.

And he'd broken his own password, one that had no likely appearance in the Pegasus Galaxy but here...

Rodney's face was pressed against Carson's neck, and he was still holding him upright. "Shit, shit, I'm sorry, Carson, I just said it, didn't think..."

"Can, uh, I help you?"

"No, no we're fine," Carson said and then covered by saying, "Long day shopping, skipped lunch. Just feeling a wee bit shaky... either that or I realized how much we've actually spent already." He gave a strained smile.

"We've got what we came for, thank you. Oh, unless you have some high spec flash drives..." Jeannie seemed to see the need for recovery time and put herself in the way of the sales clerk.

The clerk peered past Jeannie, but she seemed to buy it. "Sure. I'll take you over to electronics and they can ring you up over there..." And then the clerk moved to lead the way for Jeannie, and it made Carson move, try to stand up straighter, nudging Rodney's legs with his own. It made Rodney back up, but his hands kept moving, one to Carson's side, the other to his face, still apologetic looking. He hadn't triggered Carson since he'd put the password in.

"The... bloody word is a brand name?" Carson asked, trying not to sound incredulous. "We don't have that over the other side of the Atlantic. It's a lake where I'm from and very few people even would recognize the place!"

"I forgot!" Rodney's voice spiked and he finally pulled away. It was a hesitant thing, and his hands hovered for a moment as if he was waiting for Carson to fall over. Then he started to bend and twist quickly, gathering up everything he'd dropped. "It's a, a... stupid Sears thing. I don't usually think about brand names, and--"

Last thing he wanted was Rodney in a panic. "Okay... It's all right, Rodney. It's okay... an accident. We'll change it..." Even if the 'reboot' was like the change over but long enough for him to pass out. Apparently the moment he did pass out, he started breathing again which was all fine and dandy, but didn't make it feel any less like dying. Even if it wasn't.

The feeling was what was important, and Rodney seemed to understand that now where he wouldn't have before everything had happened to them. "Later. Just... let's get out of here before they announce a sale of washers and driers, okay? I just didn't." Rodney had all of the bags now, awkwardly balanced in his hands, and he'd even picked up the ones Carson had dropped in deactivating. "We can wait for Jeannie outside. I'll go tell her."

"Thanks... I'll just be outside," Carson said still feeling shaky. How were they going to explain this to Jeannie? Would she need a demonstration? It was bad enough the way people just wanted to use him at the SGC, like turning on a database. Like he didn't care that he couldn't move, that it hurt, that it felt ...really very unpleasant. Worse in some ways than the abuse they had suffered on occasions. Worse that the first time he had triggered and they hadn't worked out how to turn him off and he was left for days locked in one position and when he had disengaged -- by Rodney getting desperate and hitting him over the head, his muscles had cramped, he had been in pain and every part of him was strained and protesting and he had been exhausted from lack of sleep. It was amazing really, how many things that were taken for granted.

Like playing Prime, Not Prime. He honestly didn't know and had always had to take a shot in the dark playing that game, but the system, the database, was so bloody good at it that Rodney hadn't noticed for five minutes that first time, except to accuse Carson of cheating. And he hadn't realized then, and neither had Carson, that was the trigger, or at least one of them. Any mathematics question automatically activated the database at least until they worked out the passwording protocols which had been a little like having mental surgery.

It was easy to wait outside of the store, to sit in the wide indoor space on a bench that was blocked in by trees at either end. Americans had a lovely habit of not wanting to get close to each other, so he was more than sure that he'd have the bench to himself until Rodney and Jeannie caught up with him.

It was a stupid thing, but it was times like this when he felt pretty alien back here on Earth. Why couldn't Rodney get the database? Because Rodney could make bombs and though he could save lives, he had the Ancient DNA and that meant if the Genii found something... he got to try it out.

He was still tired from the surgery he had performed in only slightly more than basic conditions with Genii guards threatening him as if that would make things go any better. Rodney had had another bad night, asking him questions to which he wished he knew the answers. Why haven't they come? Do you think they've tried? John got sent to Antarctica for disobeying orders to go back after some of his team, so...where is he? It's been too long. You think anything has happened to them...?

Yes, he did, because it surprised even him how much of an assumption he had made about John finding a way to get to them. If he hadn't and couldn't, then Atlantis was in severe trouble.

Rodney probably knew that as well, but asked so Carson could tell him hopeful reassuring lies when they were together.

They weren't taking him back to the cell. Instead he was on a transport, guarded by four Genii soldiers, driven out to the Stargate and through to a place that had a gate surrounded by crumbling Ancient ruins.

"Ah, good, good you have brought him. How wonderful!" one of the Genii scholars rushed to meet him. "We have found an artifact."

Carson closed his eyes and sighed. "Of course you have," he muttered under his breath.

That earned him a rough jolt to get him moving. "Is it a weapon?" the ranking officer, who Carson thought was called Raiya but didn't care enough to find out, gestured for him to be brought forward.

"We're... we're not entirely sure," the scholars said. "All we can find is a small aperture point. Over here. It's probably a weapon."

Yeah, right. Of course it wasn't a bloody weapon. The ancients weren't obsessed with them; they made as many non-violent things as they did violent.

"You... Beckett, move over here. Have you seen anything like this before?" Raiya said, pushing him forward and Carson tried to focus. And then tried to back away.

"I'm not bloody well going anywhere near that!" he said recognizing something in it from years of studying SGC medical reports. "If that's what I think it is that'll be no use to anyone. Least of all me."

"I'll be the judge of that. What is it?"

Carson didn't say anything, and received a cursory cuff for his troubles. "It looks a wee bit like one of the database apertures. Knowledge repositories," he admitted knowing -- resisting would end up in some rougher treatment.

"But that is fantastic!" the scholar said. "The knowledge of the Ancients? Think what we could learn!"

"Aye, well, you'd think so, only in my people's experience, the thing tended to overwrite their brains, rewire them almost so they'd start talking gibberish, and then without intervention almost certainly die." Carson said as seriously as he could. "That's not going to help you much."

"But in the mean time they did have access to the knowledge of the Ancients?" Raiya asked.

Carson looked at them both, knowing he wasn't going to win this one. "Well, not exactly no. Only in a sort of strange way of talking about it and I really don't think..."

"I think that the gains would probably outweigh the sacrifices," Raiya said and gestured to the soldier who literally manhandled him to the aperture in the monolith of stone.

"No! Look, this is a bloody stupid idea! Let... let go, crap, look I'm not going to be any use to you with my brains scrambled... No!"

Too late. He was pushed up against the wall, and everyone felt it start to hum with power, before they grabbed him by the hair and forced him to look into the gap. And then there was a sudden sensation of enveloping and a pressure inside his head stretching and stretching and he knew he was screaming because he didn't want it, or to die because Rodney would be alone and then bright bright light and darkness....

He touched a wall. It sucked and clamped him in, downloaded a database in his head that was unique in that it didn't overwrite the conscious mind.

Apparently he should feel lucky. Rodney got the cool Ancient changes, one of the unnaturally forced bridging steps while they were working to Ascension. Rodney had found it fascinating and then amazing. And then the Genii had realized that he could do their work faster, better and with less effort than ever, and Commander Kolya felt confident in taking a little more and a little more of Rodney's time there.

It was the sort of thing that made him wish their situations had been reversed, in a way. Rodney panicked, not just anger but real panic now, and... and things were a mess. Life had been quieter for them on Dagan. Medieval, yes, but quieter.

He'd done grass roots medicine, teaching them about hygiene, bacteria, microscopes, antibiotics.... It was refreshing in a way, although sometimes he just wanted his hi-tech infirmary back when he had to watch patients die. Rodney had done... everything. Aqueducts, clean water power, basic electricity by the time he had finished there.

They were useful, they were happy as they could be and then Elizabeth found them and took them home.

And on their medical debriefing they found the first signs of radiation induced chronic leukemia in Rodney's blood. And it was just... stupid and obvious to Carson even if Rodney swore up and down that he was fine and weren't there symptoms that were supposed to come before they could find it?

Which was how it usually went. There were night-sweats and weakness and lethargy and bleeding gums and bruising, and then if someone was lucky, they went to a doctor who saw the symptoms and went, ah. That'll be your blood cells trying to kill you, that will.

After one loud fit of 'This is wrong, redo your tests', Rodney had become strangely calm about it. Like he'd already cycled through all of the stages of grieving while they were in the Genii prison, and was coping. Like the round of chemo that summer hadn't been a waste of good chemicals as Rodney called it.

They were morose thoughts, the sort of thing he tried to pull Rodney away from, but they were generally morose. Long term, big picture morose, while Rodney focused on moments and experiences with frightening clarity and A to F leaps of thought that Carson couldn't quite anticipate.

Rodney wanted to leave a legacy -- nothing unusual there. He always had in a way, but Rodney wanted to leave something practical, something solid. He wanted to construct an Earth-based version of a ZPM. He wanted to give the world clean, free energy and it was something that Carson didn't doubt he could do if he got the time. And he wanted there to be enough time, which was why every now and then he had promised that if Rodney looked like he was reaching a block he would willingly let him consult the Ancient database for as long as he needed. It didn't really hurt him, he just hated it. And he'd done a lot of things he'd hated before now.

At the moment though, Rodney seemed far from blocked and if he could find it himself, it would be all the better. And Rodney was taking a holiday with him. Two holidays, technically, without too much snapping about wasted time. That was as close as Rodney would usually come to admitting that he needed to rest a little, needed a break.

It was only a few minutes of waiting before Carson could see the two McKays coming towards him out of the store exit. Rodney got there first, put all of the bags he was carrying onto the bench, and told him, "I'll be right back," before hurrying off into the depths of the mall.

It probably meant he thought he couldn't deal without having something or other. But then Rodney told him he usually looked like he'd had some big shock so it was pretty much a part of human nature to try and do something about that with a drink or something. His mother made people drinks and forced them to eat shortbread until they forgot about the crisis.

"Hey, uh. Sorry about cutting your shopping short," Carson apologized.

"Don't apologize," Jeannie chided, sitting down on the side of Carson that wasn't cluttered with bags. "We were finishing up, I think. Rodney said he was going to get you ice-cream."

When it was snowing outside.

"Oh... great," Carson said trying to muster enthusiasm. Sweet and energy rich he guessed, though there was probably something hot that might do just as well. "Well I guess it might help a wee bit."

Jeannie's mouth compressed into a quietly smug smile, but her eyes were still on him with concern. "I'd ask what happened in there, but Rodney said it's something the rest of the mall doesn't have security clearance for."

"That's probably a big understatement," Carson replied and exhaled. "He does tend to worry. It's not exactly life threatening as such..." He drifted off because he was on the verge of saying 'unlike his cancer'. Jeannie really, really needed to talk to Rodney. "Anyway, I didn't want to disturb a family reunion like this. You and he... really get along. In a very McKay way."

"Not saying a word to each other for years and then it's as if no time at all has passed." Jeannie seemed to go with the topic change, though Carson had a feeling that it wasn't going to last once they actually left the mall. "He's changed."

"Yes, he has. I think he probably doesn't realize how much. He's... lived through some pretty hairy things, and saved a lot of people." Worlds. Rodney saved worlds the same way that either people might decide to get up in the morning.

"You have... no idea how strange it is to hear someone say that." Jeannie glanced away, out towards the people walking by. "The last time I met one of his friends, he said Rodney was a bastard, but everyone was used to him. And that was probably the highest compliment I'd heard anyone pay him in a while. I wasn't surprised when he came to say he was going to McMurdo."

"Rodney... wasn't sheltered where we were," Carson said carefully. "I guess you could say... for the first time there were actual practical consequences to his actions and he had to live with them. And I think everyone came to respect him. No one would deny the fact that he was probably the most important person on... where we were based."

"And his ego didn't explode?" There was another curling smile, and Jeannie looked over in the direction that Rodney had disappeared. "When did you meet him?"

Carson smiled a little. "McMurdo," he said. "He was a wee bit annoyed because some of his calculations wouldn't work without some of my research being factored in. He came in, tore a strip out of me for having a messy science and demanded I fix it. Add into that his propensity to get worried about health things and the fact I had certain things that would make things work for him and we were soon very close colleagues."

It was true. Rodney spent a lot of his time harassing him at Antarctica, trying to get him to turn things on, to just concentrate a little more or to fix what was wrong at that point in time.

Rodney still wouldn't admit that some people just didn't connect with the technology the right way, Ancient ATA gene or not. On the bright side, almost bringing down Sheppard's helicopter had probably been what had gotten him to come to the mission in the first place. Or at least into the Atlantus base.

"That sounds... sweet," Jeannie told him after a moment. Then she added, "For Rodney. So when did you two...?"

"Ach, well." Carson hesitated. "We spent time as... prisoners of war, I suspect you would call it. It happened then. Don't get me wrong, I'm under no illusion, I don't think I'm the love of Rodney's life. I think that was someone else." It all came back to John one way or another. Most things did. "...but we needed each other then a great deal and perhaps I am Rodney's second best even if he's my first choice. Either way, it stuck and... here we are."

It was funny to watch Jeannie's facial expression shift from amused and wistful to something less than, but she did nod which at least implied to Carson that she understood or could make some mental leap. "Somehow, I don't think Rodney would think of you as second best. He's... always been unsure in personal relationships. For years the greatest love of his life was his cats. He used to explain in detail why cats were better than other people."

"I know," Carson chuckled a little at that. "He's been thinking about getting another. We've been thinking about it. It's just..."

Just Rodney wasn't completely sure he was going to survive long enough to see any cat out of kitten hood. He exhaled again. "Jeannie, I really think you and Rodney need to spend some time alone. Maybe tomorrow I could... let you do your own thing?"

"Tomorrow Caleb's not at work, and Madison won't be at school." So it was an impossibility? And Saturday, right. Right, they'd be doing whole-family things. "Why?"

"I... just think it's important." Carson replied. "You and Rodney. Talking." He ducked his head down a little. "Tonight? Or Sunday?"

Rodney wasn't going to ask her unless they were alone. And okay, he might be sitting outside waiting in the car or something but... he couldn't see it happening with him there.

He just couldn't, because Rodney... and it was his sister. Carson knew Rodney well enough to just follow his gut feeling on that. "What's wrong? There's something wrong with him, isn't there?" Jeannie turned towards him, and made Carson feel cornered.

Carson looked at her and then away. He was hopeless at lying to Rodney now and he suspected Jeannie was not going to fall for it. "Jeannie, that's not a question I can answer." Though in not answering he probably had answered loud and clear.

"Then when we get home, do you want to wait inside the house so I can make Rodney answer?" She wasn't angry, didn't seem like she wanted to shake it out of him. Jeannie looked like the cogs of her head were turning already, jumping at things. She was probably thinking AIDS or heart failure, or... Maybe she'd guess cancer, but Rodney still looked healthy.

Jeannie's chin jerked upwards slightly, and she was looking out past Carson, into the mall. Rodney was coming towards them with a cup caddy in his hands and three huge cups from Starbucks. Maybe the ice-cream place had a line.

"Or I can wait in the car. It's up to you, Jeannie. I wouldn't want to turf you out of your own home," Carson offered, trying to reason that he had to do this, otherwise Rodney would say nothing.

"He'll try to distract me if there are knick-knacks to play with. Trust me on this. He did it when his fiancÈe left him when he was in Boston, and it took hours for him to spit it out." She smiled, and started to stand up to help Rodney before he got there.

"Whoa, okay -- the one on that end, yes, that end there near you is yours. Raspberry, soy, no fat no frills, 3 shots. Carson, they had this tea-thing, but I had to make a detour to the bookstore to see what family star anise is in. For some reason I thought it was a citrus, but I was probably thinking of star fruit, and it's actually in the magnolia family." Rodney sat down beside him, and thrust one of the big cups at Carson.

"Thank you, Rodney," Carson accepted the offering. "It smells very nice." His hand was still shaking a little but that was just him being pathetic. "And even if it had been citrus, I would be okay. I would just have to remember not to kiss you for a bit." He teased lightly with a smile trying to make sure he didn't notice the solemn looks.

Rodney was still looking at him as if he was expecting Carson to fall over, when he knew full well that he wouldn't. "Right. I knew that. But I wanted to try it, too. It seemed like... something Teyla used to make. And you don't miss it until, well." Rodney took a sip, and swallowed. "If Teyla had sugarcane, it would have tasted like this. A lot of sugarcane."

Carson sipped at it and raised his eyebrows. "You are not kidding, laddie," he commented and took a larger mouthful. It tasted like Christmas, all spice and sweetness, hot and warming. "It's good." It was stopping his shakes at least.

"Good, good. Great." Rodney sat back for the moment, and casually -- jamming one finger against Carson's shoulder hard enough that he could feel it through the down of his jacket -- slid an arm over Carson's shoulders. Their bags were wedged between Rodney and the arm of the bench, and certainly not going anywhere.

"I'm okay, Rodney," he felt he had to say. "Though if you don't mind, I'd rather call it a day on the shopping front. I doubt my credit card can take any more." Rodney probably wasn't going to speak to him tonight after the thing with Jeannie -- either that, or he would shout. But it needed to be done otherwise they'd both be driven mad by the what if of it all.

At least, he'd be driven mad by it. Rodney nodded, and his fingers pressed against the back of Carson's shoulder for a moment. "No, yeah, that sounds like a great plan. Jeannie, are you okay if we...?"

"Oh sure. I think we've got everything I need and some more besides," she replied quickly. "We can get home and talk about... this." She gestured at Carson vaguely a moment making him smile a little.

"Uh, what we can, and I'm not saying that just to -- it's." Rodney took another sip of the Chai. "Complicated. It isn't a singular event with a beginning and an end."

"Few things rarely are," Jeannie replied and got up. "Carson, do you need a hand or..."

"I'm okay, really," he said hurriedly.

"Okay, but you're not carrying anything. Except your drink." Which he was going to drink and if he didn't drink it then Rodney would wonder why and wonder if he was okay, because the deactivate process made him nervous. Once he'd tried to give Carson mouth to mouth.

That had been when they hadn't known if he really was dying or not. After a while it became more commonplace. Didn't mean he liked it any better but a man could get used to pretty much anything after a while. "I'm not arguing with that, Rodney," he agreed. The drink really was very nice. "What is this again?"

"Chai. I'm sure it's the Starbucks bastardized version of it, but it's pretty good. Tim Horton's could make it better." That last part was almost crowed, while he started to gather up the bags, still juggling his own cup.

"I'm sure they could," Carson said accepting Jeannie's help up. "Maybe we'll get some for home."

"You say that and you'll end up with a kitchen full," Jeannie warned.

"Carson wouldn't let me do that. I think he has an inventory of everything I put in there. A whole Tim Horton's might be something he'd notice." Rodney got the last bag, whatever he and Jeannie had got in the Sears, and he was still managing to balance his cup tight in his hand. "I could try, though."

"You are the master of fitting a quart in a pint pot," Carson acknowledged, though he was aware that the saying might well perplex them both. Still if they were worrying about that, they weren't giving too much thought to other things.

And that, considering the conversation he had set up, was all to the good.

There were certain rituals Rodney followed after Carson had been activated, if he knew about it. The number of people in Cheyenne Mountain who knew the password was as few as possible, saved for life or death problems. It was really a moral issue -- they could use Carson like a computer for hours and hours, but he was still a human being that needed to eat and sleep and go to the bathroom, and none of that happened while he was being used. It took a choice from him.

And Rodney had his issues with taking choices, even accidentally. Kenmore. It was so stupid of him to not think about it, but Carson told him about the lake and Rodney thought of Michael and that was good enough for him. And Sheppard had named Michael, so he should have known that the last name was some stupid American in-joke.

Should have known.

Now he was going to have to put in a new, more obscure password -- possibly with a number attached to the end -- and there was the reboot process to worry about. It would have to wait until after they visited Carson's mother. In case something went wrong, even if he wasn't going to let that happen to Carson. No, he was going to give Carson a good Earth Christmas...

Jeannie was opening the front door, and Carson had actually grabbed some of Jeannie's bags to slip into the house with.

However, instead of following him in, Jeannie very deliberately closed the door and turned around. "Rodney..." she said in a tone he recognized even after ten years or more. "You and I need to talk."

Oh god. This was where she accused him of being a bad... something, and any other day, okay, he was ready for that. He could cope with that but not just then. Any other day but then. "About? Not to cut this short, Jeannie, but you might have noticed that it's cold out here..."

"Yes, and I was hoping that might cut short the usual hour or more of complete evasion you usually need to do before I get an answer out of you," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "So what is it? The thing. The thing that you haven't been saying?"

"The thing." He repeated it, staring at her a little as he shoved his hands into his pockets because the longer they stood out there, the more aware of the cold he was. "Right. I'm not sure what thing you mean, because I have a laundry list of things that I haven't been saying."

"For god's sake, Rodney, I know you. I know that despite the fact that somewhere in the last ten years you've become a human being, it would take more than just missing me to get you here and be polite to Caleb for more than... oh, thirty seconds," Jeannie replied a little sharply. "Besides. I shamelessly took advantage of your Dr. Beckett when he was vulnerable and though he didn't say anything, what he didn't say told me something was very wrong."

"Oh." That narrowed it down right to the whole reason why he'd made the trip. Not the whole reason, no, because he'd wanted to see Jeannie again for a while with the quiet yearning of people who didn't miss things until it was impossible for them to have them anymore. He turned away from her, looking out over the crispy, slightly iced lawn of snow and the odd chunk of dead grass.

His breath was curling in white tendrils when he started to talk before she prodded him again. He could hear her inhaling to probably yell when he said, "I spent a lot of time working with radioactive materials. Not just that. We flew straight towards a sun once, and I spent a week waiting for my skin to peel off. It was all... very heroic and stupid, but none of us really expected to ever get back here and live long enough for there to be consequences. And when the... people who captured us did, they had very poor shielding on everything. It was better than it was when we met them, but still, it was insanely poor. I worked on that. And then I made them bombs." The bombs had taken coaxing. Kolya had threatened him. And Carson.

Had hurt him, and Rodney wasn't going to derail and think about cunning hands and knives and that grim big-cat smile when he told Rodney he was just following orders and not to bite. "So. It's uh..." He peered over his shoulder at her. "Leukemia. Some form of it."

Jeannie just stared at him as if this out of all the things they had talked about was the completely impossible thing. "Leukemia? You have... cancer?" she said a little faintly.

"Yeah. The chronic kind. It means I'm going to be around for a while, just not... It's not responding to anything. So Carson said, 'hey, maybe your sister would like to be a bone marrow donor,' and I..." He worked his mouth for a moment, looking at the house instead of her. It was stupid that his throat felt tight the longer he talked, hoping that his words could spackle in Jeannie's shock. "I can't really ask you that. You have Madison, and it was all right as an abstract concept before I actually met all of you again, and I've uh. Had an interesting run at life. I'm just looking for a little more time."

She just stared at him again, head tilted a little to one side in complete shock and then suddenly she punched at him, at his shoulder. "How dare you suggest you couldn't ask me something like that?! Rodney! I'm your sister... I'm your sister, and god help me, you belong to me, don't you ever forget that. You might have thought going away like that made things different, but it didn't. Out of anyone you've ever known... I had you first! I thought I'd got that into your thick skull as a kid!"

She seemed absolutely incandescent with rage that he would even suggest such a thing as just giving up.

"Sorry, I guess that lesson just never took," Rodney snapped, taking a back step so he didn't try to hit her back. "I was trying to be considerate! You have a family and a life here, and I'm not giving up -- you should hear the contingency plan Carson's holding out for -- but I, I knew you'd say yes. And it's painful and I don't want to do that to you."

"Rodney, I'd do this for a stranger if it would save their life -- and you might've changed while you've been away, but you're not a stranger!" Jeannie's harsh words were belied by the fact that angry tears were starting to escape from her eyes.

"It's... I'm not even sure it'd work. It's only a thirty percent chance you'll be enough of a match, and my DNA isn't what it used to be, and..." And he was running out of excuses and he didn't even know why he was making excuses, because his sister was crying. His sister was crying because of him, and Rodney didn't know what to do except take his hands out of his pockets, reaching to try to... something. Comfort her, which he'd never been very good at.

"Of course it will match," Jeannie replied vehemently. "We're too alike for it not to match." She brushed furiously at her cheeks to smear the tears away. "You are going to make it through this, it's going to work. Okay? You don't need to ask and worry about that because it's a goddamn given that I'll do it, you idiot!"

He gripped onto her jacket, and tried to smile at her. "Okay, this is the one thing I have to admit to being stupid about. I just--- turn up out of the blue after years and ask you for bone marrow. You can see why I might think that you'd say no..."

"Only if you're being an idiot," Jeannie replied and then hugged him fiercely. "You are not going to die right at the point when you become a decent human being. I know visiting will be difficult, but you and I can work out a secure encryption and I want to hear from you every day. I'd forgotten what it was like to bounce ideas off of my little brother."

"There was this problem with an underground jail cell, and before that this whole galaxy distance issue. And hey, somewhere in there I turned into a decent human being? That probably took a lot of my personal time, too." He was trying hard to pull a joke out of it, but Rodney couldn't quite do it. "Encryption, encryption I can do."

"Talented at it." Jeannie drew back a little. "Are you feeling okay though? Seriously?" She sounded concerned and studied him intensely.

"Yeah. Yeah, I feel fine right now. I feel, I feel great." He held onto her arms, looking at her. "You know, and cold. I can't feel my nose."

"Okay. Okay... we'll go in. But...." Jeannie paused. "Your Dr. Beckett... is he okay? Or was he doing the same thing?"

"He's, look, we have, uh. Some problems. Left over from being held. Some technology we came into contact with -- what happened to me is mostly fascinating and it wasn't what hurt me, but we're probably going to duck out early later. I need to put a new password on the uh, database in his head." That last spilled out, and Rodney was waiting for Jeannie to look at him like he was crazy. Which would have been understandable.

"A... database...?" Jeannie did sound surprised, but wasn't looking at him as if he was crazy. "A database of what?"

"Everything. Well, maybe not everything, but it was one iteration of what we called the Ancient database, the master database, back in the, the city we were working out of. The, the people who were holding us used us -- Carson because he has the gene, me because I had the therapy -- to activate certain pieces of technology that required the gene to use, and it uh. It's complicated. It took months to work out how to password him."

"We need to talk about this... inside, because you're right, it's freezing out here." She still paused and said something else. "He seemed to think you had been in love with someone else before you two got together."

"Hum?" Rodney had pulled back to open the door when that bizarre question out of nowhere hit him, and he stopped short of touching the doorknob. "Oh, uh." John. Right. Colonel Sheppard, but who on the base hadn't loved him more than a little? And sure, there'd been sex, and he missed Sheppard, but he knew for a fact that he'd caught Carson and John, and John and some Marine, and it didn't matter because hey. They were right on the edge of dying there. Sometimes people did stuff to affirm they were alive.

And John was just... magnetic, compelling, whatever it was, and no one ever really held on to him, because when it came to nearly dying, John seemed to be their personal expert. It was just hard to take that next step, because inevitably it would be to lose him. Everyone seemed to know that somewhere, deep down. John wasn't a stable relationship type, he was fire and passion, and something incredible but he seemed to exist only on that edge of crisis and most people just couldn't stay there long enough to make things work.

"He was right," Jeannie said, a little sad in herself. "Carson is a good man though. He does love you. He's practically a saint by default."

For putting up with him. The edges of Rodney's mouth pulled up and down, because he really wasn't so much of a bastard to not love Carson, too. "I know. He's not, he, Carson isn't a second choice or a consolation prize. I wouldn't be here right now if he hadn't been there. And I mean that not in the medical sense."

Because there hadn't been any rescue but themselves and if he hadn't had Carson to talk to before anything developed at all, if he hadn't had Carson to make sure he didn't crack or give up when the assorted Genii demands were too much, personally, mentally, and physically, then there wouldn't have been a Rodney McKay left anymore.

"Good," Jeannie nodded and then finally let them into the warm house. "Good. Because he'd have to be special."

And strangely it didn't sound like she was saying 'to put up with you' but implied in some strange feminine way that's what he deserved. It was like trying to understand Teyla all over again. Except Teyla had always been a lot less likely to actually hit him without a lot of provocation. Which was good, because she could break bones really *easily*.

They stopped in the hallway long enough to strip out of their coats, and Rodney rubbed his hands together to get some feeling back in his fingers. "Carson, you traitor -- if I ended up with hypothermia, you're sewing my fingers back on," he called out towards the living room.

The look in Carson's eyes showed that it was very far from being a joking matter in the doctor's mind, though he rallied well. "Well, that'd be frostbite and after McMurdo, I would've thought you'd know the difference," he said.

"I stayed inside the base, unlike some of you madmen." Rodney kept walking towards him, and he was glad that it was just the three of them there. That Madison wasn't home yet and that Caleb was hopefully stranded in a powerless train car. He ended up mugging Carson more than actually hugging him.

"She said yes."

He heard Carson exhale with relief, which was... pretty nice to think about in a lot of ways. "Does she know what it involves?" Carson asked. "There is some discomfort involved for the both of you. Rodney's worse obviously, but the giving of bone marrow is... a bit like being kicked in the hip by a horse as someone described to me once. You should know that."

Jeannie shrugged a little. "So I'll be sore for a little while..."

Rodney didn't quite let go of Carson just yet, but he gave Carson a little space, keeping one arm over his shoulders. "I already tried to give her that speech. Anyway, Jeannie always wanted a pony."

"Never damn well got one," Jeannie replied, sounding annoyed. "Anyway, I hear that episode was a visit from an alien database in your head."

Carson looked a little uncomfortable and then looked up at Rodney. "Aye... it decided it needed a good home and... settled in there. It's happened before with other people, only in their case it started to overwrite their minds."

"Yes, well, it didn't overwrite yours. Not sure why, but, uh." Rodney stood a little straighter. "At this point I don't like to poke around in his head to find out why. If it ever does start the, the command can... well, it's something they can handle." He squeezed Carson's shoulders, peering back at Jeannie.

"I can understand why they'd want to keep access to it. You'd think there would be a way to download or copy it somewhere," Jeannie replied as she went over to the kitchen. "Coffee I guess, yes?"

"Please. I think the tea was caffeine free. It came out of a pump." Rodney turned again, hugging Carson again, briefly, because, wow. Maybe it would all work out and he could have just a little longer. Just a little more time to work and think and to be there back on Earth and teaching those ungrateful bastards that called themselves undergrads.

Then he pulled back and let go of Carson. They were going to have to talk about the second best thing later, or not, but for the moment, everything felt settled and right. "Hi."

"Hello, Rodney," Carson said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't say anything but..." He patted Rodney's arm gently. "Your sister is a wee bit perceptive."

"When you have kids, you learn to be," Jeannie called out from the kitchen.

"See, there's this whole thing where I'm not going to have kids." He said it loud enough that Jeannie could hear, and he leaned in to kiss Carson's mouth briefly. Just briefly, enough to try to say he wasn't angry with Carson for leaking a little to Jeannie. Rodney wasn't good with secrets himself.

Carson seemed grateful for that. Rodney was perceptive enough to know that he was always unsettled after a close encounter with the database for all he claimed to be used to it.

"In that case I better get procreating immediately," Jeannie said bringing in two mugs of coffee and going back to pick her own up.

"This is drip coffee, isn't it?" Rodney asked as he picked up one mug and used his other hand to steer Carson to sit down on one of the sofas with him. If they were lucky, they could spend the evening talking and looking over the pictures that Jeannie had threatened Madison with the previous night. There were ten years to catch up on, and Rodney didn't have anything to share but essentially classified stories.

"Well, it wouldn't be instant, would it?" Jeannie said as she sat down. "I'm surprised Rodney didn't want to get at the knowledge in your head."

Carson shook his head. "He had his chance when we were trying to work out how to turn it on and off."

"And I admit that I did. I poked around." He shrugged his shoulders, eyes drifting over the living room again. Still the same place, nothing else to do but hold onto his coffee cup and not think about sharing the cell with Carson in the Genii homeworld. "But we had a lot of other things going on, and they didn't need to know what had happened to Carson." Needless to say, they had found out eventually, which had been unpleasant for them both.

"The thing is..." Carson added. "You could get me to say anything about anything, but it didn't mean it could be understood. A lot of it involves references we just...have no context for. You can pick away at it, but really you had to be someone like Rodney to even understand a fraction of it."

"But everyone thinks it has the answer to everything." Jeannie mused. "A short cut isn't a short cut if you can't read the signposts."

"Right, and try explaining that to an angry Genii Commander." Rodney took a deep sip off of his mug, trying to not frown against the edge of the mug. "I really hope one of their internal triple-crosses ends up leaving him dead some day."

"He's probably too useful," Carson said morosely looking into his cup. "Anyway, I need a new password. Something which isn't incidentally a brandname."

"A brand name? The word was a brandname?" Jeannie looked surprised.

"I forgot! It, the K word. Carson said it was a lake and we'd named an experiment it, so..." Rodney's voice went up, and he added, "And don't say it! I forgot it was a brand name, too."

Jeannie looked at them and then started laughing. "I'm sorry... I just had this... Monty Python moment. Holy Grail... Could be worse, it could've been 'Ni' or something."

"When everyone on the project was a geek? No, that's like using a Star Trek reference as a password, plus it's just what they'd expect the password to be. No, we need something... obscure that'll never come up again." They needed a miracle of a word, and so far Rodney was at a loss. Maybe the word number combination was a better idea than he'd first thought.

"I swear I saw that film way too many times," Carson answered. "We are not having ANY references like that. We are not having obscure theorists either, because you will mention them at some point. Make up a word if necessary."

"That was the problem. Because the more obscure the word, the more likely it is to both be not in the local vernacular and for it to be used at least once in a while in the base. I'm thinking a name number combination might work." He didn't feel particularly bad if Jeannie didn't explicitly know what he was talking about, because she did catch on fast, and she was probably already filling in the holes from the data he'd given her by just talking.

There were still things she'd never guess. She'd never guess what Ancient technology had given him and she'd never guess why he fell apart sometimes because hopefully she'd never see him doing it again, even a little bit.

"I can understand that," Jeannie mused. She seemed to be doing fine about the news, although Rodney kept seeing Carson glance at her anxiously every now and them. "Any way, it's a difficult subject, so I'll let it rest a while. Why don't we catch up on some of the scandal I can't say in front of Madison before I start cooking? Remember your arch-nemesis, when you were fifteen, Rodney? I debunked his pet theorem with my alter ego. The one he used to go on and on about and how he was going to prove Riemann's utilizing it." She smirked a little and maybe the change of subject wasn't subtle but it worked.

It worked and Rodney was going to go with it because it was easier than trying to circumspect things that they couldn't tell her everything about. "Oh, god, yes, and his numbers were always wrong. It was just maddening. Carson?" Rodney turned a little and he subtly tried to pull Carson in, too, out of whatever he was thinking. "This guy was so stupid that he'd make Kavanaugh playing Prime, Not Prime look like a genius."

The other man smiled at him. "And we know how terrible that would be," Carson teased a little. "And there is nothing worse than sloppy calculations. It should be a hanging offence if Rodney had his way. I think he suggested it once or twice."

There, the smile was good to see. Carson's smile made Rodney relax, and admit that he was okay after the accidental database activation. That had happened and passed and Jeannie had been willing to give her bone marrow. If it was a match. And the Christmas shopping was done.

All in all, it was a fairly accomplished day for that early in the afternoon.

All things considered, the visit to Rodney's sister had not been going too badly, even if Carson found himself more often than not drained at the end of a day of playing referee between Rodney and Caleb, who were destined to loathe and despise each other. Carson wasn't entirely sure that was to do with them not really understanding the others viewpoint or just because Rodney thought Caleb was an arrogant bastard with no basis for his arrogance... and Caleb thought exactly the same thing about Rodney.

As Jeannie said, both of them were right in very different ways, and Carson had to agree.

Madison seemed to find the sniping fests that went on over the dinners they shared to be highly amusing and despite significant Looks from her mother, indulged in some creative stirring. Carson was rapidly considering that Madison was someone who could outstrip her family because she was very bright, but she had learned how to be normal with it.

Anyway, it led to some unromantic nights back at their hotel, though they always managed something, even if it was just a little human contact.

Tonight however, whether it was talking with his sister or something else, Rodney had been very unsettled. Several times Carson had woken up and gently soothed a still sleeping, frowning Rodney into a gentler form of rest.

But it seemed that wasn't enough.

Sometimes, it just wasn't. Sometimes Rodney's mind did things in his sleep that weren't theories and brilliant mental leaps. Sometimes Rodney's mind dwelled and concentrated on things that had happened with the Genii, things that Carson mostly hadn't been party to though he'd had his own experiences he didn't like to talk about. He was whining low in his throat, pushing at Carson with his hands in a sleepy manner.

They were both going to be tired when they got up in the morning, but Carson was awake and coherent enough now to try to shake Rodney awake.

If Rodney had reached the point of pushing and flailing slightly, it meant the sleep he was getting was doing him no good. Carson wondered when he had gotten used to this, when it became a relationship ritual with the both of them.

"Rodney... Rodney love," he murmured softly as he shook him insistently. "Time to wake up. No need to stay in a nightmare."

Carson didn't waste time shaking him gently, trying to nudge him to consciousness. No, that good insistent shaking, the kind that made Rodney's eyes snap open, made him shove a little harder at Carson. "No, no, get off me, damn you, get off!"

"It's me, Rodney, it's okay... you were having a nightmare," Carson replied, grateful he still had some mass on Rodney otherwise he'd be out of the bed. "You're awake now... you are awake, aren't you?"

Rodney was gape-mouthed, breathing a little hard, and then he closed his eyes, blinking once, twice, and there he was. There was his Rodney, lying back on the mattress with a ragged sigh. "Oh, god... yeah, awake now."

Carson could feel Rodney's heart racing just from resting his hand on him. "Bad one, huh?" he asked, smoothing back mussed hair in the near darkness. "You want the light on?"

"Yeah." It was easy to reach up and turn the light on, even if his eyes burned for a long moment afterwards, and Rodney squinted back at him. He was still breathing hard, heart hammering away under Carson's palm. "Thanks for..." He waved one hand, and his fingers were shaking. "Didn't mean to wake you up."

Carson smiled again. "It's all right, Rodney, it's not like you haven't done the same," he replied and looked at his lovers pale face. "Which one was it?"

"I think it was a pick your own ending one." There was a quietly hysterical edge to Rodney's voice. He pushed the sheets down a little on his side, breathing deeply. "The storm and Gaul and Kolya, and the hive ship, and Kolya again, but with the hand of death thing, and I'm thinking that this is my subconscious's way of getting back at me for something."

"I think it's your subconscious telling you what a complete bastard Kolya was," Carson agreed smoothing his hand over Rodney like he was an unsettled cat. "I don't think you need to get back at yourself for anything."

"Right, right, well, I don't need my subconscious telling me that. If you're not an idiot, it's obvious." Rodney sucked in another deep breath, watching Carson and then his hand. Sometimes Carson suspected that Rodney needed to match sight to sensation, the way his eyes tracked everything now. "It's been two years. This just shouldn't bother me anymore. We have more important things to do."

"Rodney..." Carson sighed a little. This was a long running theme. Rodney hated the fact that the trauma they had gone through interfered with what he wanted to concentrate on. "What they did to you... to us, is not the sort of thing you just get over. Now, we are doing well, better than people expected, I think, but that doesn't mean things just stop bothering you. Kolya... Kolya and Ladon did some terrible, terrible things to the both of us, and you can't pretend they didn't happen. Just because they didn't want us actually dead didn't mean that they couldn't hurt us."

"Which they did." Rodney closed his eyes again. It seemed like he was relaxing under Carson's hand, the touch of Carson's fingers against his bare chest. "I'm just tired of it. I'm sick of this. He's a galaxy away if he's even alive, and I still can't get away from it."

"I know," Carson replied. What else could he say? He was not much better but he had been a little more internal with his reactions than Rodney. "But you got us free, you beat him and everyone. You remember that. In the end, it was what you could do that got us out alive."

"Right." Right and he could see Rodney internally nodding before Rodney shifted, moving closer to him. "I still think he killed some of my braincells with oxygen deprivation."

"No, Rodney," Carson kissed him gently. "I've told you, that was physically impossible. When you were passing out like that, the obstruction would've been removed immediately."

"I wasn't exactly there to make sure of that," Rodney pointed out. He slid an arm behind Carson's shoulders, and exhaled in another shudder. "Sometimes I can't stop thinking about it. Or the Wraith. Or those crazy last stands we had every other week with Sheppard."

"At least we know why he didn't come after us. It must've gone very wrong very quickly after we were taken," Carson replied seriously. "I know he would've tried. For one of his team." He'd seen Sheppard do crazy things to make sure Rodney was okay before. But they'd also been pretty sure that they had been gate hopped several times and their prison was not on the Genii homeworld.

Or hadn't been at first. Or some other city of the Genii homeworld that wasn't the capital city. It came down to the same thing -- far from the gate, hard to get to, hard to escape. Rodney reached up a hand and wiped at his own eyes. His fingers came away damp. "Jeannie said something to me. When we were talking."

"Oh aye?" Carson half-acknowledged and asked. "What was that?"

"About John. Well, not about John because she doesn't know who he is, but about you and me in relation to John. You're not a second choice or second best or... that, to me, Carson." Rodney was still looking up at him, and his heart was still going at a good clip. It always took him a while to wind down after something like that, and that was if Rodney didn't decide to get up and drink something.

"I didna... That wasn't exactly what I meant," Carson replied, his own anxiety levels rising a little. "You and John... you were a 'thing' you know? You had a thing. Everyone could see it."

"We had sex. A sort of relationship. And then he..." Rodney waved a hand again, before patting at Carson's chest. "Stopped, after the mess with Michael. I didn't ask why, since he was still talking to me. And then, hey, then I saw him with you, and that's a pretty strong signal. But he was still my friend." There was a wistful note in Rodney's voice, quiet and thoughtful. "So it was just sex, I guess. Which doesn't always or usually mean an emotional connotation."

Carson shook his head a little, as he knew a little bit of what John had thought had happened. "John... had issues, but I knew who he watched the most. The thing with me was..." He sighed a little. He wasn't sure what it was. "...unexpected. He was a very lonely person in a lot of ways, Rodney. He surprised me when he was in the Infirmary. He didn't get stir crazy, he just accepted the treatment. The only times he wanted out were the times he thought he might end up dangerous to us. It was... one of those times. When he was in there and there was pretty much just me there and he asked and I... said not while you're my patient. He came and asked again when he wasn't and... well, I never did get that much action, Rodney, and I knew you weren't together by then."

"Which we weren't," Rodney agreed quietly. Sometimes Rodney was as easy to read as a large print newspaper, and sometimes it was a newspaper with coffee spilled on it. His eyes narrowed a little. "And that's a really hot picture in my head. When I say I saw, I mean, I saw. I left before, you know."

Only Rodney would make a hand gesture mimicking a blowjob after waking up from a nightmare about roughly the same act.

Carson knew he was blushing a little at that. "I'm glad I was too occupied to know you were there. I would've been put completely off if I knew there was someone watching." He cleared his throat. "Besides, if John was willing to have me, I wasn't going to say no."

"Exactly. No one would have. That's why I didn't really bother him about it after he, well, stopped. Because hey, I'm just the geek that he hates who kept screwing up, and fixed the ship that tried to head for Earth, so... If he was still talking to me, it didn't bother me so much. I got over it." Rodney opened his mouth again, and actually seemed to think about what was coming out of his mouth. "So by the time we happened, you and me, it wasn't. It wasn't, 'oh, I guess Carson is all right since John's gone'."

"What I was trying to say is..." Carson felt a little exasperated. "All right, you force me to try some sort of physics metaphor here so don't mock me for it. It's like you are some sort of... comet, the sort of one that comes along once in a lifetime, and I'm maybe a planet in some sort of solar system that does the normal things and is pretty dull and stable in its own little orbit." He just knew Rodney was going to mock this. "...and there I am, and there you are but there is John like one of those weird singularity anomalies you and Jeannie talk about that wander into a place and suspend the normal laws of physics and everyone's orbits, their focus changes just because it is there, you see? He didn't have to do anything, Rodney. He just had to exist in the same place and you were... different. We all were."

There it was, that furrow browed look, and Rodney looking baffled and incensed all at once. "I, wow, I can't even believe you'd try to make that metaphor, because you've left yourself wide open here. John was not a point of infinite space-time curvature, or a black hole, or the -- well, Stargates, except those were beautifully refined wormholes that we're still not capable of recreating because we haven't broken a unified field theory and the Ancients did, but that still doesn't work because John was not a curve in space-time that moved a comet and a planet from one place to another. John just... was."

Carson just looked at him and couldn't help smiling. "That is my point Rodney. He just was... and he was one of those people who..." He was struggling again. "He was a catalyst. People changed around him. Became different. More than whom they were before. But he stayed pretty much the same. The nearest he came to changing was you."

"See, medical and chemical metaphors work much better for you." Rodney shifted his fingers, stroking the edge of Carson's shoulder blades. "And maybe he was a catalyst. He was something else. He was the mission and Atlantis. But... but back to my point, you weren't a second choice. I don't hold you up in my head against John and do compare and contrast. I haven't had a lot of great relationships in my life, Carson, and not many people who I do have a less than prurient interest in have ever been able to stand me. You're special."

"I always thought that was your thing," Carson replied. "And you're not that hard to get along with..." He paused a moment and smiled "As long as I do everything you say."

"I think you forgot the 'pretend to'." A smile curved Rodney's mouth, and he leaned up just a little, to kiss the edge of Carson's mouth. "My sister called you a saint. I didn't think I was that bad."

"You're not. You're really not, Rodney," Carson answered. "I'm not working to find a cure for cancer for sainthood. I'm working on it because I'm selfish."

"Or a masochist." Rodney was joking, he could see it in Rodney's eyes, but Carson still wished he wouldn't say things like that. It made him think of sitting in the Genii cell, hurt and dirty and cold, wanting to make Rodney's pains and fears go away, and it made him think of the hell that had been the nanovirus, waiting for Rodney to stop seeing shadows and keel over dead like so many others had.

"That too," he agreed, and it hurt to even think about what might happen for them both when... no if, it was still if the cancer won. "I don't want to lose you. I really, really don't..." Half the time he was sure the Atlantis group didn't know how much they scared him. How close it came to not finding an answer every time. The fucking retrovirus, god... for a while he'd wondered what he'd become, if he'd changed more than John, or Michael. He should've learned his lesson from the Hoffans. But the Hoffans were now revered in the Pegasus Galaxy for their last part in the final destruction of the Wraith, so...

"Maybe this will work, the bone marrow thing. And you'll get another twenty years with me and if I die sometime around then you'll probably be not so secretly tired of me, and..." Rodney's mouth pulled towards a smile, but it wasn't up in his eyes. He leaned again, bussed a hard kiss against Carson's mouth, and slid his free hand around Carson's shoulders. "And I'm tired of wasting my time with you a scared wreck."

"It's not a waste," Carson assured him. "It's really not a waste of time, and you manage to surprise me so often I don't think I could get bored. You don't have to entertain me, you know that."

There was a shift, and Rodney pressed his cheek against Carson's, still holding onto him. It was hard to gauge the level of intimacy Rodney would want after a nightmare -- sometimes he jumped out of bed and showered, and sometimes he just hung on. If Carson had the inclination, he would have tried to make a chart and pattern it out, but it probably would have proved his assumption that dreams relating to deaths made Rodney jump up to wash, and the contents of the sexually heavy ones made Rodney seek comfort. "That's good, because I probably haven't been doing it since we came here."

"Oh I don't know... you and your sister are better than TV," Carson teased in a low soft voice as he pulled him in close. "It's a little like a farce."

"You know, she punched me when I was telling her about the cancer. I'm pretty sure it belonged in a Kids in The Hall skit." Rodney let him do that, slid close against Carson, body to body. He insinuated a knee between Carson's knees, and started to lie down. It was going to be hell to turn the light off again without untangling himself first.

"She did not... did she?" Carson replied trying to work out if he was serious. "How could your sister punch you when you told her that?"

"I was trying to be heroic and chivalrous. So she punched me." There had to be more to the story than that, but Rodney sounded like he was smiling even if Carson couldn't see his face to be sure of it.

"It was probably shock," Carson agreed gravely. "She's not as used to you being heroic and chivalrous as I am."

"Am I being mocked?" Rodney lifted his head, peeking at Carson, mouth twisted into a smug grin. "I'm being mocked. If you even think the phrase 'manly fainting', I'm going to go sleep in my car."

"Only if I can come, too," Carson replied kissing at that smug grin with its familiar quirk of a line to one side. "I don't mind where we sleep as long as you can get some rest."

"If you phrase it that way... why don't you turn off the light?" It wasn't an assurance that Rodney would sleep, but if it was dark they might talk quieter and Rodney might wind down. Twisting out of their body-to-body contact might be worth it for just the chance that they could get some sleep.

"Well I would, but there is this other person wrapped around me," Carson murmured. "I don't suppose you could uh... do your thing? As we are going to sleep anyway...?"

"You just want to hear me mumble that I love you." But the light clicked off despite Rodney's snerking sound at the suggestion that he 'do his thing'.

It sometimes short circuited Rodney's ability to speak in that it accelerated his neural pathways so he only said about one word in ten, which made for some skill in interpretation when he was using it a lot, but Carson had taken time to work that out.

Besides, for what he wanted to say, he wouldn't need any words.

Carson was allowed in the kitchen.

It was kind of wrong, Rodney decided. He knew his sister was in there making a surprise dinner for him, because in the morning he and Carson were setting back out for the Longest Drive Ever. It wasn't a fifteen hour long ride in a puddlejumper, but he also couldn't stand up and walk around in a Volvo. Plus there hadn't ever been puddlejumper traffic to contend with.

But the departing dinner made sense, in a McKay sort of way. Food was an excellent medicine for stress.

There were good smells drifting under the closed kitchen door, and the sound of Carson and Madison laughing at something Jeannie was saying. It was more than a little surreal. He had a family. He had a sister who actually didn't hate him and who made it seem like all of his reasons for never contacting her were stupid. And he had a great niece who was bright and hung off of Carson's every word while, sure, she probably filed Rodney away in Crazy Uncle Territory.

And he had a brother-in-law who was eyeing him while he leafed through the last photo album that Jeannie had dug up, that he was slowly pawing through. Rodney could have done without that last part.

He was just never going to see eye to eye with Caleb. They literally had nothing in common. Caleb thought he was a big man, an important man, and that Rodney was an abstract loser. It itched at him to just tell him about one of the times he had saved the world. A world. Name a world and he'd tell you one of the many occasions he had saved it, including Earth.

So a media exec pulled in the big bucks -- so did he technically, more than he knew how to spend and he was seriously considering leaving a large amount to Madison and Jeannie in his will, just so he could piss Caleb off. That probably was the wrong reason to do things, but.

"Visiting Dr. Beckett's mother, I hear?" Caleb said blandly.

As if that act implied something. Rodney couldn't even guess what Caleb was thinking. He even looked a little stupid in the pictures that were resting over his lap in the somewhat messy album. "Mmhm. He's her only child, and he hasn't been around for Christmas in too long."

"Yes, well, we noticed that as well," Caleb said, with a hint of censure in his voice.

And that was getting old. That was getting really old -- he hadn't had a conversation yet with Caleb that didn't turn in that direction. And if he'd just been lazy about it, okay, fine, he would have been less comfortable with the topic. But being in another Galaxy was the best excuse ever. "When I said I wasn't able to come and visit, what in that sentence implied that I was able, but just didn't want to? I was physically unable to come here to visit Jeannie."

"Oh I understand that," Caleb replied in a dry tone. "I just would've thought you might've surfaced from your terribly important research long enough to write a two line Christmas or birthday card. Considering how she practically raised you while your parents were too busy to bother."

"I spent the last five years and change in a situation where there was no mail service. No postal service, no letters, no cards, no -- look, I've explained it to Jeannie. I'm not about to justify myself to you."

Caleb shrugged a little. "And Jeannie will forgive you because you're her brother." He looked directly at Rodney and said, "Family might not be important to you, but it is to me. I do have issues when my wife gets upset because she hasn't heard from you in nearly ten years and then you're inviting yourself to stay as if that isn't a problem. Jeannie spends her time being more upset about you than pretty much anything else. So if you're going to disappear for the next ten years, don't do this family thing. I don't want her hurt even worse."

He wasn't going to disappear for the next ten years, he was probably going to drop dead in the next two, but if he had a choice, he'd be around. He'd be around for a really long time, if Rodney had any choice about it. "I... she shouldn't be upset over me. But I don't have any plans to go incommunicado again any time soon."

"Make sure you don't." Caleb looked at him, even as there was another burst of laughter from the kitchen and Madison whirled in giggling.

"Mom says we're ready," she announced breathlessly even as Carson came out carrying an enormous pot, and half finishing a story that had Jeannie giggling as well.

"...and then Rodney put out an official memo that if someone was bringing food to his class that was fine as long as they literally did bring enough for everyone. He even put a suggested list of foods that might be suitable, along with optional extras in the form of lattes that might result in extra credit. Next thing we know, Rodney is having a meeting about How We Aren't Bribable with Coffee, No, Not Even if it is Really, Really, Good Coffee..."

Jeannie was trying not to laugh even as she put out the still steaming garlic bread, and small bowls of parmesan, already grated.

Oh, oh, now that was good. That was something to make Rodney finally give up on pawing through the albums. "And I was trying to explain to the dean that it wasn't a bribe, per se, as an incentive for me to be more attentive during their separate project presentations."

"Which he'd already had a meeting about because some of the students were offended when he took a wee nap during a couple of them," Carson added putting down the pot.

"He's done that a few times. He used to do it in class, too," Jeannie replied. "The problem was if the teacher asked about anything they had been teaching he knew it anyway. Madison honey, get the plates will you. Rodney, I cooked my world famous spaghetti for you. I thought you might prefer that to something ordinary like turkey."

"And Garlic bread. I forgot how good a cook you were -- it smells great." Rodney set the album aside, and stood up to try to help. Or seem like he was helping, because Caleb was still giving him something like an evil eye. "This one idiot had a eighty-four slide PowerPoint presentation. Of tiny technical documents that he didn't understand, and how they applied -- failed to apply -- to the project that he actually didn't present. But I had a great dream about coffee." About Atlantis.

"How did you know they didn't apply if you were asleep?" Madison asked innocently.

Jeannie smiled. "Caleb darling, would you strain the spaghetti for me? I've put some fresh water to boil to rinse it through so it doesn't stick together."

Caleb nodded and went through to the kitchen.

"Oh, he had them up on his student server space before the presentation and I read them ahead of time." Carson had been laughing by the time he'd finished verbally ripping the presentation up the night before he actually had to sit and suffer through it. "I hacked the files, actually, but it amounted to the same thing. He'd actually added ten pages between when I read it and when he presented it. I didn't think it could get worse, but it actually did."

"Are you meant to do that?" Madison asked. "I mean, do all teachers do that?"

"Just the uh... brilliant ones," Carson admitted lifting the lid on the bolognaise. "This smells fantastic. You never told me you liked Italian food, Rodney?"

"I don't think it ever came up in conversation. We worked out at McMurdo that you try not to fantasize aloud about food because it just made the cafeteria food taste... worse. Or when we were on MREs. A lucky night with the MREs was when you found one of those Marines who wanted to trade your vegetable crackers with you for their Oreos." Rodney glanced at his sister, and made eyes at the garlic bread.

"Sit down and start sharing out the garlic bread," Jeannie instructed them all, even as Carson sat down and Madison did as well, looking perplexed.

"Why would anyone swap Oreos for vegetable crackers?" she asked as if it was an unfathomable mystery. "Because, you know... Oreos."

She was definitely a smart kid. "That was my thought. It only lasted for a few weeks, though -- then the food hoarding started because, uh..." Rodney cleared his throat, and pulled out the chair he was standing in front of. Hopefully Carson would sit beside him. "Okay, who wants garlic bread?"

Carson waved at him with a look that he could read clearly as, 'if you are having some, I'll need it'.

"I will," Madison replied. "Mom makes the best spag bog ever..."

"Madison, I've told you when you call it that it makes it sound like I boiled up a bit of marshlands or something."

"What's a spag, anyway?" He took two slices for himself, and passed it to Carson who could pass it to Madison, then to Jeannie, and then hopefully the last pieces could be balanced on Caleb's head. "Carson, is that a liberal sciences thing?"

Carson nodded seriously. "Yes, Rodney, it's code for sphagnum moss, which you find in marshy areas." He replied even as Jeannie passed around the plates and Caleb brought the spaghetti in.

"So Mom really is cooking up marshlands?" Madison asked brightly. "Wow, I'm sure there's an environmental protection act against that sort of thing."

"There's a few about depriving your children of food if they're being smart-mouthed," Jeannie mock threatened her daughter. "Help yourself. I made plenty."

It was a little like a free for all, and Rodney had to concentrate to remember his manners, not to shovel his food. That was fine at home when it was just the two of them, but Caleb was making him conscious of his desire to annoy the man by not meeting his expectations.

He just hoped that there wasn't a pre-dinner prayer involved.

Fortunately, it didn't seem that Jeannie had completely turned her life into a Little House on the Prairie episode, so he was saved that indignity even as Jeannie demanded they started eating before the spaghetti got cold and stuck together.

Rodney wasted no time in taking a quick bite of everything, just so he could honestly tell Jeannie that it was delicious before he actually got to the eating. Homemade garlic bread, and sauce, and cheese. Jeannie knew how to spoil him, and he'd missed that, a little. He'd missed her, and he was probably going to miss her when they got back to Colorado, except now he was going to email every day.

"So, when are you coming up again, Uncle Rodney?" Madison asked around a mouthful of pasta.

She was bleeding bolognaise sauce at the edge of her mouth, and Rodney looked away just a little too fast, catching Caleb's eyes by accident. Maybe Carson should have sat across from him instead of beside him. "Uh, I'm not sure. Definitely sometime next year. I was hoping that maybe when your mom comes down to Colorado Springs sometime next year she'd be able to make a vacation out of it."

Caleb paused a moment. "You're going to Colorado Springs? We're going?"

Jeannie looked at Rodney with a worried glance. "I... uh....."

"We're going to Colorado Springs? Cool!" Madison said. "Are we staying with Uncle Rodney?"

"We have a couple of guest rooms," Rodney shrugged, glancing back at Carson and wait, why was Jeannie giving him that look? "It's not exactly a tourist location, but there's some pretty cool things around there if you know where to look."

"And when is this meant to be happening?" Caleb asked a little sharply, looking at his wife a moment.

"I thought uh, well, since I have classes to get through this spring and it is short notice, sometime early in the summer. That's if her bone marrow's even compatible." And as he said it, Rodney realized that maybe, maybe he shouldn't have said anything. "Uh, so if it's not we'll probably be back to visit around then anyway." It wasn't much of a saving comment.

Carson cleared his throat a little. "Well, yes I think Rodney discussed a wee visit with his sister."

Rodney noticed Carson had a temptation to become more Scottish when he felt a little anxious. As if sounding even more Scottish was going to make people more likely to trust him than they already were or weren't.

"Bone marrow?" Caleb repeated, echoing what Rodney had said before that. Oh, shit, she hadn't told them. Rodney took another bite of his garlic bread, and tried to catch his sister's eyes.

Much as Rodney did, Jeannie squared herself up. "Yes. Bone marrow. Rodney has cancer and he needs a bone marrow donor." She picked up the garlic bread as if this was all perfectly normal. "Would you like some more, Carson?"

Madison had stopped, and was staring with her fork halfway to her mouth. "Uncle Rodney? You're sick? I mean... it's treatable, right?"

"Sure. It, we're sure this will work." No, he wasn't sure at all it would work and if he was lucky he was hoping he'd get graft versus host disease, which would end up buying him even more time. If Jeannie was even a match. "And don't worry -- this isn't the hereditary kind. As long as you and your mom stay away from active nuclear reactors, you're okay."

Caleb was just staring at him. "Why... why didn't you tell us? Me?" He looked at his wife, looking a little hurt.

"Because I was looking for a suitable time, but my brother has rather successfully blundered into spilling the beans before I was ready. Besides it's not the sort of thing that is negotiable."

"Maybe I could be tested, too?" Madison suggested looking a bit anxious. "Bone marrow isn't always compatible in the siblings.... that's right, isn't it, Dr. Carson?" She seemed to have settled on that name for him.

"Aye, though it is most likely. The odds of you being compatible are significantly less." Carson agreed.

And since the gene therapy the odds of him matching anyone on Earth was significantly less, but Rodney kept his mouth quiet about that. It made Carson unsettled when they were in private, and he'd apparently done enough damage for one dinner. "And it's okay. Really. I'm pretty sure Jeannie'll be a match and that's fine." And his sixteen-year-old niece knew about bone marrow compatibility. She really was a McKay.

Caleb was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "McKay.... Rodney, if I'd known... I'd uh..."

"Rodney didn't want anyone to really know if they didn't have to. It's not severely affecting him at the moment," Carson cut in.

"Right. I'm fine right now. This is just... a matter of dealing with it before it gets worse." He was oversimplifying it, and Carson could mock him for it all he wanted once they were alone, except Rodney knew that he wouldn't. "And that's not the only reason I came up here. I've had a lot of, uh, opportunities present themselves that reinforced the importance of making the most of the family you have. So now that I can visit Jeannie and Madison and you, I'm hoping to use up quite a bit of my vacation time doing that."

"He very rarely uses his vacation time," Carson added.

Caleb was looking very discomfited and uncomfortable. "It's just that..."

"Why don't we eat up before it all gets cold?" Jeannie said sharply. "This is Rodney and Carson's last meal here, and I want it to be a good one..."

Which would have gone better if Rodney hadn't actually screwed it up. It was like living a slow flashback to the time Cadman had been in his head and he'd had that bizarre date with Carson present. "Right, so, uh... anyone have a topic change?"

There was a blank silence for a moment and then Carson stepped in with "Rodney once told me that you and he tried making a solar collector and managed to blow up a neighbor's greenhouse?"

Jeannie looked at Rodney. "You did NOT tell him that story..."

"Guilty," Rodney grinned while he picked up his fork. "In fact, Carson knows about every botched and not so botched experiment we ever tried."

"A solar collector? Like, to store solar power? How come I never got to try making something like that?"

And thank god, Carson's dredging up of those embarrassing experiments distracted Madison, and in distracting her, her parents had to think pretty fast to forbid incipient explosive incidents on the principle that 'blowing stuff up is cool!' and 'Well, it can't've been THAT dangerous because you and Uncle Rodney are still here', and the nearly inspired reason of, 'We could put it to practical use and use it to get that stump out of the yard. Don't you usually have to pay a lot for that?'

Rodney wished he'd thought of that idea as a kid.

The rest of the meal managed to settle back into the nearly riotous and Caleb was nowhere near as prickly as he had been -- to the point of being almost conciliatory, and pleasant which was faintly disturbing. It wasn't quite the brother-in-law he was sure he'd had when he'd walked in the door just earlier in the day, but Rodney wasn't really going to ask why. People were strange and guilt was an all-powerful emotion in most people. He'd done plenty of things that he shouldn't have, based on the power of guilt, stretched himself too thin because if he didn't then someone was going to die and they needed everyone to keep living for as long as possible, and.

And. And Jeannie brought out dessert, thick chocolate cake with fudge layered in between, still warm and gooey.

He thought he was in heaven already. Pure sticky chocolate and a moist fresh cake and oh god, he'd be sick but he was going to eat the enormous piece in front of him if it killed him.

Jeannie had laughed at him, told him she'd made another smaller one for him to take home, and that he was to share it with Carson. She looked at him like she had when they were young, and she was the big sister who remembered his birthday when his parents didn't and made him a cake because it was wrong to have a birthday without a cake.

She must've been barely able to reach the cupboards the first time she did it.

The more he thought about it the more, well, reasonable Caleb's dislike of him felt. Because he really probably was a shitty younger brother, but he'd honestly been gone for six years. On the other hand, he was the kind of person who left on a one-way mission because there was nothing to lose in his view and everything personally to gain, except he'd forgotten somewhere in there that he had a really great sister whose husband just happened to dislike him about as much as everyone else he met in life.

There had to be some way to make it up to her.

He'd make a special effort not to be incompatible with her bone marrow for a start. And maybe he had changed enough that he could manage a visit or two without stabbing Caleb in the eye with anything that came to hand. And he had to say... having met Madison, he couldn't say what Jeannie had done was a 'waste' any more. Madison was... Madison was his niece and she was bright, and interesting and maybe he'd come out of university early with doctorates out the wazoo, but Jeannie had produced her own miracle.

He knew enough about miracles to spot one when he saw one. Jeannie had given her daughter everything they had lacked, and as a consequence Madison was bright and people liked her. It was a rare combination. She'd probably be president one day or something.

Rodney found at the end of the meal, he didn't want to go even though they were going to drive through the night. He found himself just wanting to stay, not to lose this again.

Carson had a Tupperware cake carrier in hand, and they were all edging towards the door reluctantly, Rodney struggling with the zipper on his coat. "Have a good holiday. Don't open your gifts early, it'll ruin the surprise," Rodney half-mumbled at his sister as he looked down and what the hell, he was zipping his sweater into the zipper. That was why it wasn't going anywhere.

She almost automatically, reached to do it for him, something that had annoyed the hell out of him when he'd been a kid, especially when he finally grew taller than her. She smiled as she untangled it and looked up at him. "Every day. Email. Or I'll hack into the police systems and send them around to see if you're okay."

"Right. Sure. Just don't get worried if it's not the same time every day. Sometimes Carson gets paged to take care of an emergency on the base, and that really throws my sleep schedule off." He lifted his chin for a moment, looking at her. "Thanks. Thanks for... forgiving me."

She mock punched at him lightly. "You idiot. You're my brother. And I know what you do, okay? So... It's not a case of forgiveness, is it?" She sorted out the zipper and then looked up at him. "More a question of being proud I guess."

"If you'd just seen, Jeannie... If we had pictures. I'd show you. Even when it was horrible, it was amazing. The city..." He leaned in and hugged her. "God, it was amazing. If I had pictures, I'd show you. The best we had is some -- data burst tapes, wait, I can still get a hold of those, Jeannie, when you come down to visit, I can show you."

"You will," Jeannie said hugging him back and then he felt her kiss him lightly on the cheek and when she drew back her eyes were bright with near-tears that didn't quite make it to being the real thing. "Try not to develop any more diseases, okay?"

"I promise not to." Near tears were as close as either of them was going to get, but Rodney managed a shaky smile at her. "I'll write when we get back home. It was good to see you again. And Madison. And maybe Caleb."

The smile she gave him at that last told him he'd said the right thing. That the fact he had tried meant a lot to her -- even if Caleb was an idiot in his eyes.

"Take care... and make sure you let Carson have some of that cake," she instructed.

"Never fear, Jeannie, I am skilled in the protection of foodstuffs from Rodney," Carson added from behind him.

"Never underestimate a hungry McKay," Jeannie said teasingly a moment and then stepped away. "Drive safely, both of you."

"We will. It's a Volvo, Jeannie. It practically drives itself." He had to step away, taking the steps backwards one by one, and he gave her a wave. "Good night!"

Carson was already down the steps, leading him away and when he looked back, she was still standing there, her breath billowing in the cold watching them. And then Madison was there, tucking into her mother's side waving at them as they reached the car and for the first time ever Rodney wished he could spend Christmas with his family and regretting he didn't have unlimited chances to do so.

Next year. Next year. He could stay, but Carson wanted to, deserved and needed to see his mother again. And he wanted to be there with Carson. He wanted to spend a nice picture book sort of Christmas with Carson, and it was a little late to try to fly Carson's mother in to Chicago. "Next year, we'll do Christmas together. I promise!"

As long as he survived that long, and the treatment took and...

"I'll hold you to that, Rodney!" he heard Jeannie call out, even as they got in the car to go.

"So will I," Carson said from the driver's seat when he finally settled in. "You okay?"

"I think I'm going to cry like a girl if you don't start driving." Rodney pulled the seatbelt on quickly, and swiped his hand over the inside of the window to peer at Jeannie while Carson started the car. She was still watching as if that would help. It was a ridiculous gesture, but at the same time, something that he found strangely affecting.

"And we can't have that," Carson said softly even as he turned the ignition and pulled away. "It's safe now. You can cry all you want."

"I said if you didn't start driving." Rodney swallowed, and looked ahead at the road instead of back at his sister as Carson pulled off and started to drive out of the bowels of yuppiedom.

"Driving, driving..." Carson commented as they left Jeannie, Madison and Caleb behind them. "You have a very nice family, Rodney. She's obviously missed you."

"I didn't expect that." Any of it. He hadn't even expected for the trip to be enjoyable. They'd driven up in case things had gone to hell so they could make a quick escape that wasn't tied to airplane departures.

And he hadn't once thought about leaving early.

Carson chuckled a little under his breath. "You do have a way of growing on people, you know that? Taking up room in their head, if they survive the initial meetings. And let's face it; Jeannie has a head start on all of us."

"Jeannie knew me when I was still cute and too intelligent for people to know what to do with me." Instead of older and filed away as obnoxious, but a man had a right to be obnoxious when he was right most of the time. Rodney rubbed at his face, and sat back, eyes on the road. "I'm going to pretend that you're not comparing me to some kind of mold or shingles."

"I wouldn't dare dream of it," Carson replied, but he was smiling and trying not to grin as he did so and Rodney could see the glimpses of that amusement out of the corner of his eye. "Madison thinks it is great to have an uncle who is such an inspiration with regard to blowing things up. I'm now working out why the FBI was genuinely worried about that bomb... your previous record of explosions is high."

"Hey, and it was back in the day when we still had a cold war going. I could have been a, a Canadian-born Soviet infiltrator or something." And now he was thinking of that horrible joke Radek had used to tell that was only funny when they were coasting, the 'In Soviet Union, Bomb blows you!' one. "Madison seems like she's been too easy a kid for Jeannie. Maybe now she'll start kitchen chemistry or something."

"Either that or Jeannie knew the problem signs and stopped it ever happening again," Carson replied. He stopped teasing a moment. "You are feeling okay, aren't you? About... all this?"

"What? Yeah. Yeah, I uh... Of course I'm okay with it all." Rodney glanced over to him, but Carson was watching the road. Like he was supposed to. Carson was much better with a car than with a puddlejumper. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Rodney when we came down here, you were thinking it wasn't worth trying, and then the other night you were... I shouldn't be asking you this. I'm a wee bit confused as to where you are right now about the whole thing," Carson said.

"I'm..." Rodney had to think a minute to process for himself where he was, and Carson warranted at least a half thought-out answer. "I was over-thinking it. I was thinking that okay, it's minimal risk, but my luck is pretty minimal success sometimes, but it's all in the numbers. Thirty percent compatibility, ten percent chance that I'll die, and an absurd, point zero two percent chance something could happen to Jeannie and that's the one that bothers me."

Carson was silent a moment and he glanced over at Rodney, just for a flicker of time. "I'm so incredibly lucky Rodney, because I get to see this side of you and not many other people do, which is a real shame. Jeannie is well aware of the risk and it's something she wants to do. It's a risk she wants to take. She'd never forgive herself not trying."

"Right. Right, I know, but at least it would have been her never forgiving me if I hadn't asked in the first place, and..." Rodney waved a hand a little, stalling with the gesture. "Maybe things will work out. I don't know. I wish I could do a simulation run on my laptop, but no, medicine has to have so many stupid variables that can't be accurately measured..."

"That can work in our favor," Carson reminded him with that stupid streak of optimism showing again. "You get to put yourself into the equation, and so far, that's a pretty successful variable."

"Or maybe the plague that killed the Ancients was actually cancer and the ATA gene makes the body susceptible to it." It rolled off of his tongue so easily that he didn't have time to think that it could and probably would hurt Carson, and Rodney tried not to do that, tried not to lash out at Carson.

He did notice the long silent pause though, even if it took time for it to sink it. Eventually Carson said. "I'm very sorry, Rodney. I should never have given you the treatment."

"Yeah, and then we both would have been dead years ago. No, look, I..." Rodney put one hand on the dashboard, and drummed his fingers. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Hell, I begged for the gene therapy."

"I should've made sure it was tested more thoroughly. Because you are right, it has made things more complex with your DNA," Carson replied still watching the road. "It's a valid concern, Rodney. You're right, it is possible that there is a connection."

"Oh, god..." Rodney shifted, twisted just a little towards Carson, stretching one leg out in front of him. "Don't do this. It'll be a worse drive if your back gets knotted up."

"My back is fine. It's just it might be something in the treatment I devised rather than the gene itself that I should look at. Just because I created it doesn't mean that it is infallible. Or..." He paused a moment. "When we get back I want you to question the database for me about it. It's something long overdue."

"No. Why? The gene therapy didn't drive me to work on bombs for the Genii. It's not, it isn't something wrong with that." And if Carson was mulling over things like that, Rodney was tempted to pull over and take the wheel.

"No, I'm saying there must be some sense I can make of their medical data. Cancer is common across species, and there was none in any of the Ancients we found in stasis. They must've had a treatment."

"And it could have been done ten thousand years before they even hit Pegasus and they forgot how to do it. Look, I don't even know how to poke around for medical things in the database." Didn't want to, because it made him feel bad, but Carson was going to make him feel bad no matter what.

"Fine, I'll get someone at the base to do it. They'll practically drool at the chance," Carson replied. "You've got a family there to live for, Rodney. People who care for you. This wee holiday here has made me realize there's more than what I want at stake. "

But what Carson wanted was the same thing that Rodney wanted. "No, no, you're not getting someone at the base to do it. Give me a list and I'll do it. The last time they did it, they left you sitting and went to grab coffee."

"I would prefer it if you did," Carson admitted. "They don't seem to understand what it's like. I know they can't see the problem if it's not hurting somehow."

"Fine." Rodney stretched his other leg out, and crossed them at the ankle. "I just. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Rodney," Carson replied. "I was just thinking that whenever there was a crisis you could deal with that's exactly what you did. I need to... work to your example. And don't worry; I'm not going to be fretting over this or anything, all right? It's just... hardening my resolve a little."

"You do realize that you were the one who was alternately advising me to rest and then giving in to my demands for stimulants? I dealt with things, because if I didn't, we all died." Or he and the gate team died, and it amounted to the same thing sometimes.

"Yes, I do realize that," Carson replied a little defensively. "And it worried the hell out of me every single time I did it. Those stimulants are addictive and... well, we know all about that side of things."

"We do." Rodney glanced forwards again, focusing on the road they were coming up on. "But the point is that you spent -- and still spend -- a lot of time telling me to slow down. So making an effort to match me is probably not a good idea."

"Only when it's needed. And I need to do it, because otherwise I'll always wonder if I have done enough." Carson said. He sighed a little. "Sorry, I've brought you down, haven't I?"

"My head's out there right now, so I don't think up or down matters. Look, you've, you've done a lot for me. Just having you here means more to me than you can guess." And seeing Jeannie again. If it all went to hell, at least his sister wouldn't attend his funeral -- or, worse, not attend at all -- wondering what kind of person he was.

"It's the least I can do as you get to deal with my mother trying to feed you all the time again. I'm sure she only makes porridge when we are there. It's not particularly Scottish or anything."

"I wonder where she picked up the habit." It wasn't particularly suave, but not being suave had never stopped Rodney before. He moved a hand from his lap, over the middle console, and rested his fingers on Carson's thigh.

"Is this some plan to keep me awake while I drive?" Carson asked after a moments pause. "Because we have a long journey ahead of us and it might just work."

"What, arguing? Because I'm not giving you road head. The steering wheel is too close." But anything as long as it was a change of topic. He knew Carson was still thinking about what he'd said, and he knew he wouldn't stop feeling guilty about it no matter what he said.

But that was Carson. He thought that a doctor like Carson who inevitably lost a fair few patients might become immune to some of the guilt. It had surprised him that Carson held on to every single thing that he could've done, didn't do, should've done. Rodney didn't remember being quite so clingy about his very rare cock-ups.

He remembered Carson saying that he was pretty sure Rodney would understand what it was like to have life and death as his responsibility. He was right. He did.

"Plus the fact I wouldn't want to get pulled over for that no matter how pleasant a thought it is," Carson added.

"Wouldn't that be fun to explain to Jeannie? Because I'd have to call someone to bail us out," Rodney noted. "So, are we going to swap in a couple of hours? First rest stop we hit?"

"First rest stop we hit and I'll buy you bad coffee and pie," Carson promised. "And I won't allow you to eat the pie until you've driven your bit."

"Sadist."

It was all right. He couldn't even think about pie just then, not when his stomach was twisted up from saying goodbye to Jeannie, to speak nothing of the dinner they'd had before that. Rodney patted Carson's thigh, and leaned his head back against the headrest.

"No, that sounds just fine."

Christmas with his mother had been an experience. His mother was terribly proud of him, and by proxy, proud of anything or anyone to do with him, including Rodney -- who she kept calling delightful -- especially after Carson informed her that Rodney had saved his life.

She cooked far too much, among things. They had a momentary panic when Rodney thought he was allergic to pine. Carson had revealed the epipen he kept around secretly just in case of the dreaded citrus allergy, and Rodney looked at him as if he'd given him the best Christmas present ever by taking that personal danger seriously.

As it turned out the whole thing was a false alarm as their tree turned out to be artificial with some pine scent, but Carson found himself nodding and agreeing that, yes Rodney, it was a logical thing to think.

It was all right. Carson had only teased Rodney a little, and Rodney had just beamed at him through it. Occasionally, Carson suspected that Rodney's hypochondria was linked to a need for attention and perhaps a way to put some control over parts of his life. It explained why it had subsided to nearly nothing during their experience with the Genii.

After all, in some respects, Rodney had nearly his complete undivided attention for the best part of a year, and Carson had to admit he had no problems giving that to him. After all, they did their own things. Rodney was teaching, and Carson was patching together the SGC, working on the latest xeno problem, and then trying to squeeze in his cancer research as well. They hadn't managed to catch up with Elizabeth right around Christmas because the pair of them spent some private time just working through a few things and making love all over the house.

The casualty list was two lamps, one chair (an arm fell off during a tricky maneuver) and a crack in the glass coffee table top that Rodney swore was due to the harmonics of a particularly ear splitting orgasm.

Thank god for sound proofing as standard for high security personnel.

But she was getting ready to head back out, and that meant a full medical, and there was no better doctor for the medical screenings of officers headed to Pegasus than Carson Beckett. That and trying to see if the gene therapy would take in Elizabeth. It would take a few days for all of the tests to come back once he'd taken them, and that meant there was time for him and Rodney to catch up with her now that her leave time was over.

Carson had invited her over for dinner, and wisely, in his opinion, got some very nice takeout as he knew he would be in a rush and Rodney was hitting a period in his teaching where he never seemed to get home early. So he got her to call when she was on her way, ordered far too much because he knew that he had Rodney to eat leftovers and hassled Rodney to stop playing with the students and come home already as they had guests.

Guests caught Rodney's attention. They didn't have many friends who'd be invited over for dinner. Rodney didn't like the presence of his fellow teachers enough to invite them into their home, and Carson wasn't much better, though they had had the General and Jack over once, but they hadn't really been invited.

It had been one of those moments that had made Carson suspect they were being checked up on. Sam and Rodney occasionally did coffee or lunch, but. It wasn't the same as seeing their lost, missing, presumed dead friends from the Atlantis expedition.

Carson missed that sense of camaraderie, of being a part of something. He still was, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't the main medic in the infirmary. He was just one of many. Half the time they were propping him up to access information. He didn't even get to go on off world expeditions anymore because they were too afraid that something might happen and their enemy might get their hands on his brain.

But Elizabeth -- she was one of their friends, and even as he unpacked the bags of take out, he knew Rodney would be pleased to see her.

"Rodney, I put some wine in to chill. Would you get it out?"

"Sure, but where'd you put it?" Rodney had given a concession of cleaning up his paperwork and theories from the dining room table and the living room, and he'd laid them out on top of their bed. Now he was looking a little lost and anxious with anticipation.

"In the refrigerator in the kitchen," Carson explained as he put plates out, things to warm and had everything to go pretty quickly. The doorbell rang and he looked up. "You get that, I'll sort the wine." He was trying not to smile.

"Good. The suspense has been killing me." It was toned in sarcasm, but Carson could tell that yes, Rodney actually had been caught up in suspense. He took the opportunity to duck into the kitchen while Rodney went to the door.

"Hello, Rodney." Carson heard Elizabeth at the door and smiled as he set the dinner to warm, and got the wine out. He would've loved to see Rodney's face just then. Maybe it had looked a little like the day when Elizabeth had walked into their home on Dagan.

He'd been writing, the smell of the plant extract they crushed and used for ink bitter and spicy and he'd filled the basic pen that Rodney had constructed with its small ink reservoir. He had to finish his notes, because Rodney said he had finally managed to get them to build a basic printing press, and he'd done something about it as a project when he was six or something and he still remembered it.

They had made a form of carbolic soap that he was looking at and describing how important it was to scrub everywhere with it. It was good enough for Florence Nightingale, it was good enough for him. It was funny how many basic concepts that he took for granted, that had taken centuries to develop on Earth and he was cramming into a bare few months, teaching doctors on Dagan and finding the revelation enormously rewarding. Revelation over simple things like vaccines, bacteria, antibiotics, transfusions, surgical techniques, resuscitation. So much to pass on... and he was covering only medicine. Rodney was taking a running tackle at everything else. Engineering, electricity, refining, combustion, mathematical concepts...

He smiled as he drew the diagram of cells that every school child knew on Earth, the hand made paper rough under his fingers, and the scent of Yrana, their housekeeper, baking the fresh spicy sweet bread they would eat with the customary afternoon jo-la. It tasted like a chocolatey spice and was refreshing, even if Rodney would complain about it not being coffee. They would sit on the small balcony, overlooking the city-town below them and the sunlight would be like the Mediterranean, golden and warm. The evenings would be full of the scent of night-blooming flowers and birds that sang as the sun went down as they ate and drank the sweet local wine. The local beer was more like an alcoholic soup and they steered clear after a few encounters.

They'd put themselves together here, fitted in and become more than useful. It was something their damaged egos sorely needed.

Then there was tap on his study door. "Healer Beckett?" Yrana's niece Shlana peeked in, dark eyes and plaited hair, somewhat in awe. "There are visitors to see you. They have traveled a long way and say you know of them."

"Oh really?" Carson knew he sounded skeptical, but they had half a dozen who said something similar. "Did they happen to give you their names?"

"I wouldn't've thought names and introductions would've been necessary, Carson," a familiar voice said, and he looked up and nearly ruined his afternoons work in shock and amazement.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth, oh my God, it is you!" He pushed himself up, his hands shaking and immediately reached to hug her, still tall, still elegant just as she had been in his memory. "The news was that all those of Atlantis were dead! The city fallen and then of fights to the end with no survivors! Dagan missed the worst."

"So did I, Carson." Elizabeth replied. "I was sent to Earth and now... now I managed to come back, see who I could find to come home."

Home... Home and Elizabeth and Rodney, god, Rodney was going to just explode.

"Rodney is going to be so surprised to see you. Have you found many others?" he asked, stepping back.

"A few. Ronon and Teyla and her people, and they have told me some of what happened after. I'm so pleased to see you, Carson...and to find you and Rodney safe and well. We thought the worst..."

Aye, well thinking the worst probably didn't touch the reality. He stopped his smile from slipping and said. "Let's go surprise, Rodney...I can't wait to see his face.."

Slack jawed in shock, with his eyes wide and a little glassy. Carson couldn't see it, but he could hear it. "Elizabeth? You're, wow, you look good. Uh, come in. It's good to see you..."

"It's good to see you too," she replied. "I'm taking it Carson didn't tell you it was me coming for dinner?"

"You're taking it right. I would have cleaned up in here a little less if I'd known it was you. How've you been?" Rodney's voice sounded rapt, a little fascinated that she was there. It'd take a few minutes for it to sink in for him all over again.

"Busy," she replied as the door closed behind her. "I'm off on another trip tomorrow, so I've been getting ready for that. Carson here?"

"In the kitchen, Elizabeth, Just warming things up. I thought you ought to have your favorite takeout before you went back, unless your tastes have changed?"

"Not so much that I'm going to turn it down." She turned to Rodney. "And how have you been?"

"Oh, uh... Good, good. No symptoms, and my sister is getting her bone marrow tested to see if we're compatible. Working, researching, not yet driving Carson to the edge of madness, life is pretty good -- anything other than busy and uh, heading back home for you?" Rodney was gesturing a little widely as he talked, and he led Elizabeth towards the fairly easy to spot dining table. It wasn't as if their apartment was overly large or spacious and tables could be concealed from view. The only thing Carson could conceal was the coffee cup rings on the wood surface, with a plain tablecloth.

Elizabeth seemed to be taking things in, the living room, their space. It was funny to think of it as their space, full of all the necessities and silly luxuries that he associated with life back on Earth, a contrast to their home in Dagan where everything had served a purpose.

Elizabeth smiled and pulled out a little gadget that she tapped once. "I love these things. New jamming technology. We can say whatever we like now. Yes, I'm heading back on the Daedalus... Rodney, please don't take that apart, that defeats the object."

Carson quirked a smile as he watched his partner. He'd all but grabbed the item.

"But it's new. Is it new via the SGC, Pegasus, or the Asgard?" It was flattish, and grated, and Rodney was clearly looking for the on-switch. "I hate being out of the loop."

"New sort of cobbled together from all of the above," Elizabeth said as she sat down. "I didn't just find you two on my trip back to Pegasus, I managed to pick up some Ancient Tech too. Dr Jackson theorized that because the Ancients effectively had to abandon technology rather than leaving it as they went on to do in this galaxy, there's a lot more of it around. At least that's what I use as an argument to go back there again. Thank you, Carson," she said as he handed her a glass of wine.

"Well, you know that Carson and I are glad you keep going back. We know there's more out there, more outposts, more..." Rodney gestured vaguely at Carson. "Databases. And people. And with the Wraith gone..." No reason to abandon the place altogether even if there wasn't a control crystal. Carson could almost see Rodney's thought as Rodney finally sat down. Maybe they could find another one. Maybe they could engineer a crystal, and if he could replicate the ZPM... If, if and maybe.

"It's also still technically a rescue mission," Elizabeth added. "After the Wraith were...ended, the Wraith worshippers apparently went on a rampage destroying worlds wherever they could. A lot of worlds friendly to us -- Atlantis -- capped their Stargates at least temporarily. There is a possibility that I might find some more of our team."

"Aye, you found us after all," Carson acknowledged as he put the food out. "Help yourself."

"More than a year after we thought there was a hope in hell of getting back to Atlantis, yes. How were Teyla and Ronon doing with their, uh..." Rodney waited, apparently watching Elizabeth, and then gestured with his eyes for her to go for the Chinese food first.

"Thank you," Elizabeth started to help herself. "They seem to be building a stable society. The Athosians know a lot about farming, agriculture and Ronon's people had more technical expertise. They both admire strength and fighting prowess, and Ronon and Teyla's status as real life legends has opened many doors for them. I'm fully expecting them to have made significant progress since I last saw them."

"Good. That's... well, I'm all for the advancement of most of the cultures over there." Excluding one, but Rodney didn't have to say it while he waited for Elizabeth to serve herself before he reached for any of the food.

"And what have you two been up to?"

"Well, Rodney and I visited his sister and her family for the best part of a week and no one was murdered," Carson announced.

"Which, if you'd met my brother-in-law, you'd understand for the miracle that it was. Imagine... Caldwell in the throes of a Go'auld possession, if he was an advertising executive." The loss of IQ points that the job claimed from a man was heavily implied in his tone. "We spent Christmas through New Year's with Carson's mother, which was enjoyable. And then when I came home I had to sort out one student of mine threatening suicide over his final exam grade, and three certified letters from parents of students of mine who claimed they were 'lawyers'. It would have been more believable if they'd been able to spell paralegal correctly. I'm still fairly sure they were forgeries from the students themselves, but it's not like the university forces them to share their grades with their parents."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "You are the scourge of their department. Are you teaching physics or math?"

Carson chuckled. "I think he's teaching them survival skills in the academic world."

"I want to subtitle Physics 113 as 'Lying To Your Professor With Panache'. It's a little of everything. I honestly don't think they knew what to do with me, so I had one physics course, entry level, an upper level math, and a mid-level engineering course. I think the dean is waiting to see which department I anger the least before fitting me into a niche." And Rodney didn't care much. Teaching was something for him to do between research, something to keep him active and interacting with people when he didn't want to, and Carson knew that.

Elizabeth piled her plate high, obviously looking to make the most of the food before she was on the rations they carried on the Daedalus. "Got any good students?" she asked raising an elegant eyebrow.

She looked less haunted than she had, when she thought she had lost the entire mission to the Wraith and lost Atlantis as well. He was pleased about that and was glad that she had a purpose and they hadn't made her a scapegoat.

It happened so often in the military and they'd seen it happen so many times, and it hadn't happened to her. That was good, because she'd worked against unconquerable odds. "A few. One of them graduated and then volunteered for a grad assistant position under my purview. Physics. He's very... eager. Not so bright, but eager."

"He is actually bright," Carson confided. "But he is in awe of Rodney, so his brains sometimes dribble out of his ears when he is trying to impress him."

"Ah...." Elizabeth smiled. "Maybe another Zelenka to a McKay."

"Bull. Radek was never so impressed with me that he spilled coffee on himself." Rodney sat back a little, and started to put rice on his plate, and then some eggrolls and the chicken. "No, he reminds me of, uh. That Sergeant we had in the control room. Chuck?"

Carson nodded, "Chuck, yes..." he agreed. "Bright, and a wee bit in awe of the Big Name Scientist."

"Oh yes," Elizabeth nodded. "And Radek was pretty impressed with you Rodney. He used to tell me as much. We used to say, ëI wish McKay was here,' all the time."

Carson smiled a little, even as he wilted just a little. Well, they'd had other doctors, some of them even better qualified than himself. But there was only one Rodney McKay.

Rodney faltered a little, and dropped some chicken on Carson's plate before he started to give Carson food, possibly to just have something to do. "Yeah, well. I wish we'd been there, too."

Elizabeth ate a couple of mouthfuls before saying, "I know I said it before, but we were trying to find you. John, Ronon and Teyla made several raids on suspect Genii facilities. We were pretty sure it was them, but they routed through three gates that we knew of and maybe others. Radek was trying to decode addresses... and... I had to order John to stop when we recognized the massed Hives bearing down on Atlantis."

"We know. Carson? Are you holding Elizabeth accountable for what happened?" Rodney seemed to be waiting for the no he knew that Carson would give.

"Well I wasn't planning on doing that, no," Carson said. "Elizabeth, we told you before, we understood what happened. They kidnapped us, and sometimes you can't find a trail."

"We would've found you. If we'd been able to keep Atlantis, we would have," Elizabeth replied and sighed a little. "I was in command. In the end, I'm responsible."

"But you did find us," Rodney pointed out, voice a little keen. "And we're back on Earth again, and we're safe and doing pretty well. You did your best, which was more than I think some commanders would have done."

"Thank you, Rodney," Elizabeth said. "I want to be sure that I've found everyone who can be found, if that makes any sense. There were rumors we didn't have time to check out before we came back and Ronon and Teyla were going to sift through information to see who else we could track down. And we were going to try and reestablish the Stargate system now that the Wraith worshippers are gone."

"It would probably make life easier for everyone. Dagan," oh, god, and there was a note of pride in Rodney's voice, "was doing quite well when we left it, and some of their allied planets could benefit from that. Carson made leaps and bounds in their medical knowledge with them. It was just -- Okay, so they weren't at the stage where bathing was beyond them, but it was a damn close thing. They still did bleeding as a cure all."

"There are some occasions when that can help but yes, we did help," Carson acknowledged. "The Pegasus Galaxy has been kept back from its natural development."

That was an understatement.

"So I heard. They were not best pleased I was taking the pair of you away," Elizabeth said eating another mouthful.

It really was a very good Chinese, but sometimes Carson found himself thinking fondly of the first meals he and Rodney had shared in their freedom when they had nearly made themselves ill with eating. Unfamiliar flavors but delicious.

Maybe one day he'd go back there. One day, if they'd ever let him, with the database in his head. Just to see and be a part of the adventure again, to teach and learn instead of being the geneticist in the SGC's pocket who lived with the physicist in the SGC's pocket. "Mmm, well. I left them all of my very extensive notes and what I found in my research of the Quindozen archives, and they're not a stupid people. I really think they could do well for themselves. Like... France."

"Like France?" Elizabeth queried and Carson smiled a little. Rodney had surprising caches of knowledge, and just when he'd thought that he had plumbed the depths of it, some new facet would drop into conversation.

He settled for eating his dinner and listening.

"Mmm. Historically they started to make technological leaps forwards in terms of medicines and..." And off Rodney went, and it was probably the only time in his life that Carson would ever hear Rodney praising the early cultural shift in one of his least favorite countries. Then he pointed out that the Genii was a lot like the Russians, and hopefully there wasn't going to be a Pegasus Cold War, because not only would that be messier than the one on Earth, but they had a lot more ground to fight it on.

"Oh, hey -- I forgot to ask. Any word on M7G-677?"

Elizabeth grimaced just a little. "The planet of the children? I....no. No, they capped their Stargate...."

She sounded uncomfortable and Carson looked at her. "What is it Elizabeth?" he asked concerned.

"That's where they left John. Had to leave him. He made them leave him there because they had to save the Athosians and...." Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Teyla said he was dying and made them go. We thought we would go back at the end of the sweep and.... see if we can find anything to... bring home."

Oh, oh, well. They would have kept his dog tags and any equipment of his, and, yes, it was only proper that they at least bring something of John back. Rodney was looking down at his plate, and he was in the process of mashing some of the rice into particles that could possibly become one with the plate. "It would probably be a good idea to go back and uncap their Stargate, anyway."

"Yes, that's something else we promised to do. Let them know it's safe and put them in contact with Teyla. They're building a trade center on Athosateda, and people are getting used to trading again, I think." Elizabeth replied clearing her throat a little. "So when are you starting treatment, Rodney?"

"Oh, uh." The rice was still meeting an uncomfortable end, but Rodney clutched a little more at the fork, looking at her this time. "Couple of weeks. I've been getting my class in order to hand off to the poor TA. He's probably panicking as we speak."

"I offered to prescribe some nice tranquilizers," Carson added. "Rodney says I have to carry on going to work while he's in hospital. I offered to do the treatment for him but... He wouldn't let me do it, either. Something about being worried that my sentimental Scottish side might overwhelm me at a critical moment."

"I feel it's a conflict of interest. While Carson's the best medical care any of us ever had, I'd prefer that if something goes wrong you can only blame yourself in a peripheral way instead of questioning your technique as a doctor. Elizabeth, back me up here." He glanced at her, picking up his fork again to stab a little piece of chicken to eat.

"I agree with Rodney," Elizabeth said. "It's never a good thing to feel responsible for an unpleasant medical procedure if you don't have to."

Carson stared, literally gaping a moment. "Elizabeth, I ought to remind you I have a lot of experience of being responsible for that sort of thing."

"I said if you don't have to," Elizabeth reminded him. "And it is different for someone you deeply care for."

Carson swallowed a moment, still a little stunned. "Aye, I know that. I've been doing that for years, too."

"Except you didn't have the choice not to be. Except with the, uh, pine thing over the holiday. Technically that wasn't a not choice, so much as a, uh..." Rodney circled one hand, and gave a loose shrug. "Well, I'd just prefer if you're not directly responsible for this one. Is all. Because if anything goes wrong, you'll blame yourself no matter what. It'll just take more creativity. Like Elizabeth blaming herself for what happened to us. Because, hey, who knew that four marines wouldn't be good enough?"

"There is another side of me that wonders if I could've done something better. Different," Carson said but conceded the point. "Anyway, I did agree eventually if only so I could get a holiday when Rodney needs me here."

They all had so many sharp edges that they could hurt each other with. Carson could understand why people ran away from their problems so as not to speak to the people who unintentionally hurt right back in the most innocent discussion.

"Maybe you should take some vacation time. Somewhere warm and relaxing," Elizabeth suggested.

"What, without me?"

"What he's trying to say Elizabeth is that he is not the best patient I have had to take care of," Carson said and smiled a little.

"Now that I can believe," Elizabeth commented.

"He's not as bad as you, though," Carson put into the conversation. "Anyone would think that you thought you ran the Infirmary as well as the city."

"Wait, didn't she? I mean, technically, she also ran the science labs, not that she usually argued against me, but you know, you probably could have, Elizabeth. Not that I would have listened, but the thought counts." Rodney tilted his head slightly, and he gave a quiet laugh.

Carson raised a finger to admonish them both. "It's a common misconception, but a doctor is always in charge in his own Infirmary," he pointed out. "Regardless of the constant mutinies."

"But why?"

And as Carson tried to explain the importance of that particular tradition, they settled comfortably into a during meal dinner conversation.

Sometimes Rodney wondered 'what if'.

What if the Genii hadn't ever snatched up him and Carson. Or what if Carson had gone with Zelenka, would they be living in an apartment together in Colorado Springs and would Rodney be dead in another Galaxy? Or what if Elizabeth hadn't come to Pegasus again, if she hadn't survived and been rescued and what if war had gotten hot with the Ori again and they didn't want to spare the resources period because Atlantis and Pegasus were nothing compared to Earth, to the SGC when, really, Rodney thought the Pegasus Galaxy had everything it needed except cheese doodles, and they'd come up with those once they learned advanced food preservation techniques.

He didn't usually think in terms of what if. There were too many of them, and somewhere those infinite universes of his what ifs were happening. There were an infinite number of Elizabeths and Carsons and Rodneys, and maybe one of him had accidentally eaten citrus in the Genii prison and maybe another of him hadn't ever had Acastus Kolya's dick up his ass with the commander crushing him down into the bed and maybe another of him hadn't gone to Pegasus at all, and he was sure that one of him had drowned.

Probably more than one.

But he was there, then, sitting on the sofa beside Carson with Elizabeth across from them, and maybe he was zoning out a little, half listening, watching her face and remembering meetings and the stress that hadn't ever seemed to leave her face.

"....and then I convinced them that Caldwell hadn't meant to insult their fathers and forefathers into the tenth generation by taking off his jacket in the holy temple and we actually ended up with an agreement in the end. Though I think Caldwell will never look at pineapples in the same way," Elizabeth was saying and Carson was smiling at the story.

"Sounds like him. Very stubborn and...." He was interrupted by the doorbell and Carson looked a little alarmed. "I wonder who that is? It's late... I'm not expecting anyone."

"I am," Elizabeth said with a smile. "I brought your Christmas present, but I had to arrange for someone to bring it over. I was hoping that it would get here when I was here. Go answer the door, Carson."

"Christmas present?" That brought Rodney out of his thoughtful stupor, and he stood up. "Oh, damn, that reminds me, Elizabeth, hold on -- we, well, we put something together for you. Since the trip on the Daedalus is long and boring and you're pressed for space, uh..."

Shit, where had he put it? It was a good thing that Carson was getting the door, because Rodney suspected he needed to rifle his workroom quickly to find the wrapped package.

He could hear Carson exchanging words with some delivery guy, who Rodney suspected was someone from the SGC and made him wonder if Elizabeth had smuggled some Ancient Tech out to visit him. Or even... a ZPM. No, of course not but... that would be a great present.

"Rodney? Where did you go?" Carson was calling him back and putting a box down that looked like it had been hastily and loosely covered in wrapping paper literally seconds before the door had been opened.

"I forgot where I put Elizabeth's present!" It should have been explanation enough, but it was probably in one of the three junk drawers.

"Drawer on the right," Carson called back, and sometimes Rodney at once hated and was amazed by his apparent ability to remember the really trivial things.

"Don't worry, Rodney, let's not keep your present waiting," Elizabeth said sounding amused.

"Drawer on the..." Drawer on the right. There it was, still in the wrapping paper covered box that was a little dinged because Rodney kept pens in that drawer, too, and it had been a few weeks. He held it up, and then craned his head to see if he could see Carson looking smugly at him for being right, but no. Not in Rodney's line of sight, so he headed back to the living room.

"Open yours first," Elizabeth said smiling and meaning it. "Go on."

Carson picked up the box and took off the paper and then handed it to Rodney to open. "You know, I'm starting to have suspicions..."

It wasn't a ZPM. For one, ZPMs didn't move, and two, ZPMs did not leave warm spots on the bottom of the awkwardly sized box. He twisted, set it down on the sofa, and opened the flaps on top and oh, god he'd been right. "You got us a kitten."

Not just a kitten, but a drowsy looking marmalade kitten that mewled once it could see light. "You poor thing, how long have you been in there?"

"Rodney, she had a personal chauffeur," Elizabeth said. "Who drove her right here. They might've given her a light sedative to calm her but she's been thoroughly checked, had all her shots or whatever."

"You got us a kitten?" Carson asked and Rodney could hear the mild incredulity in his voice.

"Well, Rodney spent a long time extolling the virtues of cats to me and I knew you were currently without a cat...."

The kitten opened a pair of sleepy eyes to focus on him and then decided light meant escape and started to try and climb the side of the box.

She'd hurt herself -- and Rodney decided she was a she since Elizabeth had called her a she and Elizabeth was very careful about her genderization of people since she'd mistaken a priestess for a priest once -- if she actually climbed out and fell onto the sofa, as loose limbed as she was, so Rodney reached in to pull her out. He had to avoid tiny pricker-claws, but it was worth it to get his hands against soft fur, and he'd forgotten how much he'd missed warm fur against his hands.

Since that bitch in his old apartment building had moved to Florida and taken his cat with her.

There was some random flailing around with paws, then a big evil kitten yawn before she tried to clamber up his arm.

"She's adorable, Elizabeth," Carson said sounding amused. "And she seems to like Rodney."

"Rodney seems to like her. If only I'd know, I would've requisitioned a cat for Atlantis," Elizabeth joked.

"Tycho didn't take to people. It would never have worked." He pulled the kitten close against him, and there was the almost satisfied clutch of claws against his shirt. It was no wonder she'd flailed, because that was awfully high up from the ground for a kitten that was high on sedatives. "There we go. You're okay."

She clambered a little higher and then decided that just here was exactly the right spot to spend the rest of her life for the foreseeable future. She settled down and then purred an almost shockingly loud rumble of contentment for such a small creature.

"My god, Elizabeth. ...this is better than drugs. I've discovered something that stops Rodney from moving," Carson joked.

"I see it but I don't believe it. I was expecting kitten mayhem." Elizabeth replied. "I'm almost disappointed."

"Cats know what's important in life. Sleeping, food, and having a functioning toilet." Rodney moved the box with his free hand, and sat back down on the sofa. There, he could stroke the furry head now. "Hey there. I think you're going to need a name. And wow you have huge ears, Carson, do they look as big from where you are as they do from where I am?"

Carson grinned a little. "She looks like she is auditioning for some Batman role from where I'm standing...so that is probably a yes. What are we going to call her?"

"Puddlejumper," Elizabeth suggested. "Although that might get you pulled in for questioning."

"As if the SGC doesn't already watch us like hawks. I kept telling Carson we should have moved to, say, Hawaii, because then whoever they have watching us would have at least had a nice place to be stationed. They have to make sure people like Elizabeth don't bring us ZP-- We could call her Zed."

"Zed or Zee?" Carson teased him slightly and Elizabeth smiled.

"You know he's going to say Zed, even when it's really Zee," Elizabeth commented.

"Sorry, Elizabeth, but my side of the Atlantic is with Rodney on this one. Zed it is." Carson replied even as the newly christened kitten chewed thoughtfully at Rodney's shirt.

"English was our language first. Not my fault you Americans are wrong. But look, Elizabeth brought us a ZPM." She was going to choke herself if she started to go to town on his shirt collar like that, so Rodney insinuated one finger between his shirt and her mouth. "Hey there, you probably need food and litter, too. Thankfully coffee grounds can do until we get out tomorrow..."

"Well I was going to ask them to wrap some up but I had this feeling you would know more about it than I would," Elizabeth said. "And I'm sure there's something very wrong about addicting a cat to coffee so young."

Carson nearly choked on a laugh. "He's not going to be feeding them to her, Elizabeth..."

She looked at them both, puzzled.

Oh, god. She'd never owned a cat, had she? That was a really sad state to live in, never having owned a cat, but... Rodney nudged a fingertip against Zed's nose, staring at Elizabeth a little. "Litter! You use it for litter, it's got the right texture for uh..." He made a kneading gesture with his free hand, and then went back to petting Zed. "I used to take Tycho with me if I was traveling in country. And believe me, that's the best use for hotel room coffee I've ever seen."

"My god, McKay..." Elizabeth shook her head. "You still manage to surprise me. I would've bought you a kitten a long time ago if I'd known."

"It broke his heart to find Tycho gone," Carson said, sounding completely serious. "It's a wonderful present, Elizabeth, thank you."

"Thanks." He lifted his head a little, smiling at her. "We -- uh, Carson, the, the present. It was actually my sister's idea, but Carson put up with me crashing his desktop getting the compression ratio right."

Elizabeth picked up the small bundle. "Compression ratio hmm? Is this like the compression ratio that managed to make 1.4 seconds into a year's worth of reading material?"

"You better bloody well believe it. Let's not even talk about how Rodney is the RIAA's most wanted at the moment either." Carson replied. "We both selected things. It was fun, actually, for the both of us."

"'Also, Carson has the most shockingly bad taste in music," Rodney grinned, and gestured with his eyes at the package. "Eighties power ballads and hippie folk music. But, uh. There's a lot of everything there and we remember how long the trip is back and forth on the Daedalus. Plus, you've missed a lot of reading."

Elizabeth smiled with the genuine appreciation of someone who knew what it was like to try and survive on a limited amount of distraction for a long time. "I really appreciate it. It's very thoughtful of you both."

"I should wait until you've got through the bagpipe music before you say that." Carson said. "All right, it was only one bit of it. But it's a lovely wee tune."

Rodney cast Elizabeth an only somewhat joking look of long-suffering agony, but Zed trying to sleep on his shoulders was sufficiently distracting. "I told you, the worst taste in music ever. But, uh. You know, weight restrictions. It was that or a really souped up gun, and let's be honest, you get those standard issue."

"Very true," Elizabeth replied. "I don't suppose it comes with a contents list?"

"Oh there are little introduction in various sections... if only so you have someone to blame," Carson explained. "And it will be good bargaining power as well."

Bargaining power? Bargaining power for what, but Rodney didn't ask because he supposed Carson actually meant blackmail material, and at that point, there wasn't much left to blackmail them over other than really bad taste in music. Unless he meant the old media trade that had blossomed on Atlantis, where people shared files because everyone was bored. "I had to promise to not go on about leadership like the last time I made a tape."

Elizabeth smiled and Carson nodded. "He wouldn't let me hear it. And I made one as well."

Zed had opened an eye and was patting experimentally at Rodney's neck and jaw as if curious about their movement and the vibration from them. Her tail curled up and waved distractingly as she shifted position.

"I look forward to listening to them," Elizabeth said and sighed. "And, I'd better be going. The delivery boy is also my ride back to the SGC. We're leaving at some ridiculous time in the morning and I have to finish what little packing I'm allowed to do."

"See, I knew that was an SGC guy. Should we tip him or something?" Rodney stood up, and steadied Zed just enough that she wasn't going to fall. "Good luck, and uh. Come back in one piece. Safe travels and all, and...." Rodney reached out to hug her, just briefly, because no trip to the Pegasus was safe, even with the Wraith gone.

"I... you be well while I'm gone," Elizabeth practically ordered him holding that hug just a little, trying not to crush the kitten who squeaked at them both for disrupting her fun. "Don't drive Carson to drink."

"Too late for that. Sometimes I can't wait to have a strong cup of tea," Carson said as he hugged her as well and gave her a peck on the cheek. "No playing with strange Ancient devices, now."

"No, no touching Ancient devices while I'm away," she promised, smiling at them both. Rodney had missed that smile, that tone of her voice. She'd be fine, and she'd come back, just because she had to. "I'll contact you both when we return."

"You do that. We'll want to know whom you found this time around," Carson said as she stood and he stood as well to see her out.

"You stay there, Rodney, don't disturb little Zee."

"She'll fit in just fine here, I think." She was trying to move and squirm again, and Rodney's eyes hit the kitchen table. "Oh, your -- Elizabeth, your jammer."

"I was thinking to accidentally leave it behind," Elizabeth said even as she walked to the door. "Sometimes it's difficult to get things off your chest when you're subconsciously aware that people are listening. By the time they turn up to pick it up, I'm sure you will have worked out how to make your own." She raised her eyebrows a moment a walked with Carson to the door.

He probably wasn't meant to hear her say, "Take care of him Carson," in a soft voice, or Carson's reply, "My only priority Elizabeth," before she turned to say goodbye from the threshold.

But Rodney heard it. He was giving her a slight wave when the door closed, and she was right. He'd put together a makeshift litter box and feed Zed some leftovers -- there was rice and chicken, and that was good for little kitties -- and then he'd tuck the box away into his lab and work on it in the morning.

"I still think you should have other priorities," Rodney pointed out softly.

Carson looked up him, and smiled. "I do have them, they just don't seem much like anything in comparison." He came over to the couch and sat close to him. "You with a kitten is going to have to be the subject of some photography."

Rodney leaned back, and moved Zed gently, manipulating her to unhook her claws from his shirt and ow, that last one hurt. "Here, hold her for a minute. I need to get a can of coffee and uh... shoe box, maybe. I think the Maxwell House will suit her bottom well. So you want to make her a cover girl?"

"It's more of the two of you," Carson replied even as he took her and Zed immediately latched onto his arm, then his shirt and Carson had to stand still as she climbed. "Ow! Zed, stop that.... you'll fall off my shoulder, I'm too tall, kitty... are you licking my ear? Rodney, your cat is licking my ear!"

"She likes you? I told you that q-tips are your friend, Carson, ear drum punctures or not..." He walked off, laughing a little to himself as he looked for the coffee can. Pictures of him and the cat, well. Well, Carson... Things could still go wrong. A lot of things could go wrong, just going in, and he didn't particularly want to be the inconsiderate lover who just died and didn't leave anything behind.

So, pictures. And another couple of weeks, and hey, everything was just going to go fine and if Rodney kept saying that to himself he'd buy it.

"It's like a wee pixie attacking me with a very small piece of sandpaper," Carson called after him. "I expect you to come back here and let her sit on you again."

Carson made him smile and there weren't many who could awaken that sense of humor when there were so many other things to do. Carson kept the ticktickticking of his mental timeline from overwhelming him in a panic. With Carson there, he did everything he wanted to do, but he did it in paces and steps and enjoyed himself. He didn't fall to pieces, and Carson was always there to ground him.

There really wasn't any way to repay that, Rodney decided as he sat on the kitchen floor, pouring Maxwell House into the shoe box his sneakers had come in.

He could hear Carson talking in his soft Scottish accent to the kitten. Rodney wanted to repay him by being there, as that seemed to be the only thing that Carson ever wanted. So even though he hated the thought of feeling sick as all hell, having transfusions, he was going to do it, and give it the shot Carson wanted him to give.

That was pretty much all Carson seemed to want. Well, Rodney could keep himself there out of stubbornness for as long as possible. He stood up, and wandered back to the living room with the makeshift litter box, and stopped at the dining table long enough to grab some fairly clean-looking meat out of the leftovers.

"I don't know why, but I didn't expect Elizabeth to actually remember I liked cats."

"Everyone remembers that, Rodney," Carson answered him as Zed walked along his shoulder and seemed to be showing signs of contemplating leaping out into space in that alarming way that cats frequently did. "No... no... you can't fly, kitty..."

"She was probably sedated for transport. If you think cats have poor judgment about spatial distances normally, just wait for this..." He set the box down on the floor, and picked Zed up from Carson's shoulder, sitting down close to him. "I'm glad you invited her over."

"So am I. She made you smile," Carson said simply as he moved in closer. "And I've never seen you so mellow as you are with our little Zed here."

Rodney stretched one arm out over Carson's shoulders, and that closed in the space between them comfortably. It left Rodney with one free hand to pet Zed's fur. "I'm mellow. I'm very mellow now-a-days. I'm practically laconic compared to how I was in Area 51."

"I can believe that," Carson replied even as he reached over to the kitten exploring Rodney thoroughly and smoothed her fur. "This is going to work Rodney. All of it."

"Yeah." It had to, in a way. "So, you're going to take good care of Zed while I'm in the hospital, right?"

"Oh god, I'll have to look after her....I'm not a cat expert, Rodney...." Carson actually sounded worried. "What do I have to do?"

"Change the litter. Feed her. Make sure there's water." Rodney watched her chomp patiently on a piece of chicken. "That's it. I'll probably get her microchipped just in case, and Elizabeth says she's had her shots. She's probably been spayed."

"Poor wee thing," Carson commiserated. "She's only a little kitten. She can't be old enough to stay with an incompetent carer."

That was Carson's way of saying, 'I don't want you to have to leave me', or as near as he would get to it.

They weren't really sentimental, and Rodney appreciated it. He didn't know what to do with that kind of emotion, even if he could feel it. "She'll be okay, Carson. I trust you with me all the time, so I'm sure you can handle a little kitten. Anyway, I'm just, you know, a hospital visit away if she does anything strange."

"You think they will mind if I smuggle her in?" Carson replied. "I think it would be therapeutic." He would try if he thought he could get away with it, too. Carson bent a lot of rules for him one way or another.

"You can try." Rodney stretched his fingers over Carson's shoulder, and turned his head to press his mouth against the edge of Carson's jaw. "Thanks."

"Not that I don't appreciate the thanks, but Elizabeth gave you the gift," Carson murmured even as Zed was mountain climbing over them both, slipping every now and then and splaying herself out to keep from falling.

Rodney used his free hand to gently catch her every now and then, but she was exploring. She was being a fierce kitty, and Rodney was going to let her be curious. "She did," Rodney agreed. "I used to have those fears when I was younger, that I was going to die alone. Death hasn't ever bothered me that much, but I kept -- you know, that one day I'd accidentally ingest some citrus and die and then no one would notice until I hadn't been in to work for a few days." He shifted his fingers a little, manipulating one paw. "And after the Atlantis mission started, that wasn't such a worry. Or death, because it was so much of a sure thing that there wasn't much point on dwelling unless it was in the process of occurring. And now..."

Rodney paused, and pressed a kiss against his jaw again. "I had a point. I really did. I , this whole thing has me on edge. Not because I'm scared of it all going wrong, but because if it does, then I lose you. To something that seems so much more... defeatable than space aliens that suck the life out of you with their hands."

He could see that tell-tale brightness in Carson's eyes which meant he had hit his lover's sentimental spot. "You think you have something to lose now, and... you don't, because no matter what happens, I will be here, Rodney. I will be with you, I promise you. Even if..." He obviously couldn't say the words and he'd seen him say them often enough before.. "Even if that. I'll still be yours."

"I actually hope you'd move on and find someone else. You know, just in case I'm around and happen to end up a peeping tom ghost." Because he'd watched Carson and John, and even at the time, when John had been his or nearly his or whatever, it was hot. And retrospectively, Carson was his now, and it was still a hot memory. He jostled Carson a little, gently. "C'mon. I'll put the leftovers away and we can keep Zed confined to the bedroom until she's had some supervised time to explore."

"I'll bow to superior cat keeping experience," Carson said as if he knew that any cat in their household was automatically going to be Rodney's. "I'll give you a hand." He took Zed in his hands then, stroking her gently as he said. "They wouldn't be you, Rodney. Try not to let me find out what a world without you is like."

"If willpower has any effect on your voodoo science, I'm not going anywhere," Rodney reiterated, picking up the coffee-grounds litter box. "And that was why I thanked you." Getting back to that lost, fuzzy original point.

"When you beat this, I'll be the one thanking you," Carson replied and he sounded certain. Certain he could do this, they could do this, and maybe that was all he needed. Willpower, a reason to stay alive and someone who cared whether he lived or died not because of what he could do, but because of whom he was.

It had helped get him through the ordeal with the Genii, because Carson really, almost disappointingly, didn't care what he could or couldn't do, but about him. And Dagan had been their own personal adventure, each of them pushing themselves as far as they'd wanted, but no demands.

"We'll throw a party," Rodney agreed mildly as he headed to duck into the bedroom and tidy up some stray cords. "With fudge. And cake."

"Jeannie's chocolate fudge cake," Carson countered as he busied himself as well, never straying too far from him even as he cleaned.

There had been a time when that would've annoyed him, irritated him but he knew all to well how much he needed comfort now. Human or feline, any way good. Maybe it wasn't just now, but something that had always been the case but he'd never admitted before the Genii and Carson.

Either way, he was going to do his best because for once, he cared about the fact he could die, not for his own sake but because it would hurt Carson. And that was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

Jeannie was due in a week plus change and Rodney was due in the hospital and Carson thanked God every day for the distraction that was a small kitten that alternately caused havoc and wrapped two grown men around whatever the feline equivalent of a little finger was. Zed distracted them and enabled some of that nervous energy to be redirected.

The rest of the nervous energy went into sex, as if Rodney was trying to store up enough to last him through a forthcoming sexual drought.

Rodney was funny about sex. He admitted that he'd have years of nothing and then he'd 'get lucky' and someone would decide he fit some weird fantasy or he was just their thing, and he'd try to make up for lost time and opportunities. He'd as much as told Carson that he was trying to get a month's worth of sex in, and hey, he needed something to fantasize about when he was in the hospital.

So far this week aside from the usual appliance and ornament casualties, Carson had managed to pull a muscle in his back, Rodney had a very inconvenient cramp just at the wrong moment and there had been that thing where they had grabbed the shampoo instead of the lube and hadn't noticed until a little late in the proceedings.

Despite all this, or maybe because of it, it was still pretty much the best thing ever for Carson. He liked the way they could laugh during sex, because human reproduction was a pretty ridiculous thing to come up for the practical outcome for producing offspring -- and take away the practical biological aim for the process and the ridiculous was pretty much left.

Currently Rodney was in the middle of pouncing on him and he was half bent over the back of the sofa.

The back of the sofa, not the soft cushy part which would have been better on his back, but at least he was face to face with Rodney and not cracked in half over the sofa, even if that was a somewhat lovely position when he was in the right mood for it.

"I waited for you to come home since lunch. I had this great breakthrough, and it has to do with string theory of all things and Jeannie is going to kill me for laughing at her, but it's from the other direction and reverse engineering these things is harder than it looks..."

Still, Rodney was pushing at him, and trying to kiss him at the same time. Rodney tended to get horny after a breakthrough -- which as he commented once, probably meant he was permanently horny.

"That's... great, Rodney...string theory, huh?"

He really wished he knew more about it, but he could kiss back.

"It hinges on being able to create a pocket universe in the first place, which isn't as hard as containing one. Not just a theoretical split universe of unsurity, but a physically existing -- I need dinner and a break and then I'm going to work on it more and see if I'm not crazy." He kissed Carson again, sucked gently on his bottom lip, and pulled at Carson's belt.

"You're not crazy," Carson replied and with Rodney tugging at his belt his center of gravity was undermined and he managed to gasp "Rodney...!" which in retrospect probably sounded like an endearment just as he toppled over the sofa.

His arms flailed naturally for something to hold on to and pretty much found only Rodney.

It would have worked better if Rodney were more steady on his feet, and if Rodney had grabbed onto the sofa instead of grabbing at Carson, because then they wouldn't have ended up falling onto the cushions, dangerously close to hitting the coffee table. "Hold on, hold on, don't move, let me, uh..."

Carson started laughing. "We are not going to the hospital a day early, Rodney, not for broken bones." He felt like he was upside down with a horny, brilliant scientist crawling over him. Which was pretty much what had happened.

"I know! I know! Just, I'm going to fall and hit my head on the coffee table, if uh..." Because he was still mostly on the back of the sofa. Rodney moved a hand to plant it on the sofa cushions, staring down a Carson. "So, bedroom?"

Carson was still trying not to laugh. "I'm thinking that might be a good idea, Rodney, much as I'm liking the rough and tumble..." He moved his arm to brace Rodney from falling off the edge. "Lack of permanent injuries would be liked as well."

"Yeah. Not even sure why we have a coffee table, actually. Maybe we just need gymmats on the floor..." Rodney groaned, and finally got to his feet again. He reached for and grabbed Carson's hand to haul him up, even though it probably would have been easier for Carson to stretch out on the sofa and then stand up.

He just about made it upright without any other injury. "So, I'm taking it you have an itch you want to scratch?" Carson asked as Rodney didn't let go of his hand before he started moving.

There were pulled back muscles that he could deal with later, after Rodney was done with him. He supposed he could demand a back massage from Rodney, but that could possibly start off another round. Rodney had a habit of sitting on Carson's thighs naked to give him a back rub and the positioning just made it too easy. "Yes. Yes. I want you."

"You do, do you?" Carson replied as he was lead into the bedroom. "And how are you wanting me today?"

Hopefully nothing too acrobatic before the hospital visits.

"That depends on how your day at work went, and what your stamina feels like." Oh, that was thoughtful of Rodney, thoughtful in the way that made Carson worried and wondering if he could plead tiredness.

But it was Rodney, and he was ill and he deserved something even if he did feel a bit tired and stiff, and the guys had the database on for three hours straight. "My stamina is fine Rodney. "

"I see your mouth saying it, but your eyes are puffy." And Rodney kissed him as if that was a compliment, pulling at his hand to guide him backwards into their bedroom. "I have some ideas. Most of them start with you naked, and conveniently Zed is sleeping in my deskchair, so we're not going to have that unfortunate batting incident again."

"Thank god..." His penis was still recovering. "Naked I can manage and if I get some beauty cream or something maybe my eyes won't offend you."

"Offend me?" Rodney leaned in, and kissed over Carson's left eye, and it was fortunate that Carson closed his eye before it happened. "Option one was seeing if you were up to riding me, but I think I'm leaning towards option two. You, clean sheets, that massage oil you bought that doesn't smell therapeutic..."

...and inevitable straddling and access of convenience. He could live with that but he didn't want to disappoint Rodney. "That sounds nice, but if you want me to ...I can try?" he offered.

"We could save it for welcoming me home?" Rodney turned his head, kissed at Carson's temple. "But we did just fall over the sofa.. Do we really want to try taking out a lamp, too?"

"We get easily replaceable lamps for a reason," Carson replied smiling. "Okay, they did have me databasing for three hours in a row and I get a bit stiff."

He could feel Rodney's hum of agreement more than he could hear it. "Knew it. Knew it! Here, sit down and let me undress you."

Oh, he knew this mood. He sat down and smiled a little. This was the 'You belong to Rodney McKay' ritual, where he would undress him as if he was opening a present to himself, and then set about touching everywhere as if Carson was something new and wonderful.

Needless to say, he liked this ritual and was always willing to act as a gift for Rodney if that was what he wanted because it was always what he wanted.

"How could I say no?"

"There's really no way to do it sanely or diplomatically," Rodney agreed. He needled Carson to the edge of the bed, let him sit down while his hands lingered on the top button of Carson's shirt. He popped it smoothly, which was a sign that while he was horny, Rodney had probably had time to wind himself up and then down again in Carson's absence.

That meant a slow luxurious and seemingly endless sexual experience which would be fun. It always was fun with Rodney. He loved that. It meant something even when they were just playing around, and Rodney always seemed surprised that he liked him enough to -- as he put it -- share bodily fluids with him.

He loved Rodney, and there had been a lot of whispered conversations to that effect in the confines of the Genii cell. He'd known they wanted them to bond, to be close so they could use them against each other. And they had, but they'd gone one step further. They'd beaten them and now he couldn't imagine his life without Rodney McKay in it.

It was entirely possible that the prospect of Rodney dying terrified him more than it did Rodney.

Rodney probably knew and admitted to it to himself. It just wasn't something they'd talked about, and there was no way he was going to bring it up when Rodney was leaning up to kiss his beard scruff, fingers slowly doing away with each and every button of his shirt.

"I feel there should be some sort of striptease music when you do this," Carson murmured. "Or a bad porn background."

It didn't stop him responding quickly enough for all his tough day.

"There's this techno channel with heavy breathing that my TA favored," Rodney offered. He probably wouldn't do it, but he did lean back to slide his hands in beneath Carson's shirt, fingers sliding up to his ribs.

"That is...faintly disturbing," Carson admitted and made a hum of pleasure. "Has he stopped panicking yet?"

"No. Because even in the hospital, I'll still have email." Rodney leaned down, shifting to his knees so he could kiss Carson mid-chest and push his shirt off of his body at the same time. It wasn't the most sensual thing Carson had ever experienced, but it did make him as hard as a rock, enough for his dick to strain against the leg of his boxers

"I'm sure that you are meant to be resting rather than conducting lectures by remote control," His hands drifted up, to stroke over Rodney's back. Look at them, neither one a classically handsome man but in his eyes, Rodney was beautiful.

His eyes and the wide expressive mouth, the way it pulled into a grin as Rodney let Carson's shirt fall to the floor. "I'll rest. And work on my own projects, but email only takes time if you're wording things carefully and care about hurting people's feelings."

Carson chuckled a little."And that is not a problem." Rodney's fingers on his skin, his touch, smoothing over skin, over a recently returned hint of softness over his muscles.

"I will be there every day. I'll leave work on time."

"Hey, great. You'll be in time for bad mac 'n cheese and jello dinners," Rodney joked softly. He knelt in a way that had to be more comfortable for him, and kissed across Carson's chest idly while he started to unbuckle his belt.

"My favorite," Carson replied. "I'll bring you power bars to keep your strength up." And anything else he would be allowed to bring into a sterile environment. His fingers teased in Rodney's hair and he hoped Rodney would be lucky and it wouldn't fall out, or if it did, that it would grow back sensibly. Not corkscrewy or silver, or thin.

If it did anything funny, he could imagine that Rodney would complain. Or wear a lot of hats and Carson had to admit that he liked the length and texture it was, easy to slide his fingers through and easy to feel Rodney's scalp through. "Peanut butter ones. Mmm." He closed his mouth over Carson's left nipple, and nipped it with his teeth.

"Oh bloody hell, Rodney, you know what that does to me..." he said, automatically arching back a moment as it spread tingles. He was cursed or blessed (depending on the point of view) with sensitive nipples, something which had delighted Rodney when he discovered the fact. It was guaranteed to make his knees weak every time.

It was a good thing that he was sitting down. Rodney smiled against Carson's skin, and leaned back just to run the tip of his tongue over one. "I'm trying to see if your dick will unzip your pants for me."

"Even having the ATA gene won't make that happen..." Despite himself he thought of John then and the way he just... was there and you'd think he had done that. "...I think..."

"Should I try harder?" He slid a hand palm down over Carson's dick, feeling him through his pants.

"Yes, Oh...yes...whoo...." Carson trembled slightly. "It's trying very hard."

He was twitching down there, enough to make Rodney grin apparently, and push Carson back to lie out on the bed, insistent but shy of forceful. He never forced Carson into anything, even if Rodney occasionally crossed over the line of obnoxiously insistent. "Good. Let me get your shoes off and we'll see what we can do about that."

He had to toe off his shoes, because he was lying down now and Rodney was on top of him. "What happened to the massage?" he quipped as he heard the shoes thump to the floor.

They were both funny about force. He still regarded it as a damn miracle they wanted to have sex at all.

Not that their first attempts had been easy, and for a while, he'd worried that he'd broken Rodney by even suggesting that the two of them together that way could work. Throwing up wasn't a normal good reaction, or shaking, or stammering, so it made Carson just a little perversely proud that Rodney could do things to him now that weren't possible in captivity.

"Once I get your pants off," Rodney promised, but his mouth was still hovering and he took another swipe at Carson's nipple with his tongue.

"Well I can wait...oh...." His supporting elbow gave way and he dropped down flat. "Rodney! Hurry and get them off."

Rodney laughed against his chest, and started to kiss his way down. "Demanding. Huh, what if the zipper's stuck?"

"You are a brilliant scientist... maybe you can reverse engineer some solution to this mechanical problem," Carson pointed out.

"Scissors." Rodney sat down on his knees, and finally his hands settled on the zipper. So, the pressure was a little heavy, but he was pulling at the zipper which was more than Carson had expected right away.

"It's all true, you are a genius," Carson called out smiling up at the ceiling. "The best genius ever."

He'd learned fairly early on that Rodney liked to be told that because people seldom did. As he seemed to tell them himself, they assumed he didn't need to hear. Except the more Rodney heard it from other people, the less he actually said it himself. He didn't go on about his brilliance in the same way he had., now that Carson acknowledged it, just like he didn't talk about his citrus allergy or complain about medical problems because Carson was there and Carson was paying attention and listening and caring.

All of those thoughts went out of Carson's head a little when Rodney unzipped his pants and started to pull them down and off quickly, taking his boxers with him. "Scissors aren't going to be needed."

"That's a really, really good thing," Carson replied, now very nearly naked except for his socks. And that was not really a porn type image to conjure with. They weren't really porn-type people. No one would pay much money for Burnt Out Academics Gone Wild In Socks. It was the sort of thought that set him to laughing, and it didn't help that Rodney pulled his socks off just then.

He wiggled his toes a little and laughed a little more. "So we've got to the naked part, though I was thinking of keeping the socks on because they are so sexy..."

"Carson, they're brown on the bottom. I did laundry last week, and your socks are a trauma." Rodney held one sock up, and then dropped it to the floor before he slid a hand down to loop around Carson's ankle. "But we have nakedness. Or you do."

"You should boil them. I'm sure my mother used to do that and they either came clean or disintegrated," Carson murmured flexing his foot a little in that grip. "I'm thinking you might like to do nakedness as well, Rodney."

"Mmhm, soon enough." Rodney leaned to kiss the inside of Carson's knee before he stood up. "Here, stretch out on your back. I guess I should start with your chest."

"Well I'm not going to argue with that suggestion," Carson said settling back. Rodney had skilled fingers. Fingers that had saved their lives on numerous occasions: rerouting this circuit, rewiring that, pulling crystals with deft sure movement. Now, of course, he could use his mind as well to help, but the longer he did that, the longer it took for him to start speaking normally again so it tended to be an emergency only thing.

Like the database should have been. Rodney pulled his shirt off with less grace than he'd used on Carson, while he stood up. "God, you look good like that."

"You look pretty good yourself, Rodney," Carson replied."I must say, that this is a pleasant surprise after a long day." He stayed where he was, though, because though he sometimes liked to tease Rodney by being a little awkward, today wasn't the day to do it. He could usually tell when that was the way things were meant to go.

"I thought you were there to do medical things," Rodney noted, unbuttoning his jeans and toeing off his shoes and socks.

"Well I did, as well, and I did a few things. Standard weird parasite thing. Nasty wee bugger, too, but we got rid of it, so then they asked for database time and..." Carson shrugged. He found it hard to say no when people's lives were at stake and apparently there was some sort of problem with the Ori still and SG1. It had been Samantha Carter doing the questioning at the start but she had been in such a hurry he'd been left on and... well, it was a normal day.

Just a normal day. "I want to tattoo 'please turn me off' on your forehead." Rodney stepped out of his pants, and it was all very unsensual until he knelt on the mattress, leaning over Carson to kiss him again.

"I love it when you get frisky, Rodney." He deliberately rolled his words with a heavy Scots burr as he said it. "You can write it in biro wherever you want."

"Where I'd prefer to write it is probably not where you'd prefer it to be written," Rodney pointed out, sliding his hands to Carson's sides. Then he leaned away again, pulling open the drawer of their somewhat cluttered bedside stand.

"You know me, I'm game for pretty much anything," Carson replied closing his eyes and just feeling a moment. "Especially if it involves you."

It wasn't just words anymore. It was the plain unvarnished truth.

Everything Rodney did tended to feel good, especially the few times he went in for slow quiet moments. Carson could hear the drawer close, and then he could feel Rodney kneeling on the bed beside him again. He was probably pausing, contemplating how to 'attack' Carson. The mattress squeaked, and then Rodney was sitting over his hips, right on top of his cock, settling comfortably into place. "Always good to know."

"Oh bugger me, Rodney, how is it you always pick the exact spot..." he groaned. "Is this the normal massage technique?"

"Only if there's a pimp standing outside." Cardon's dick was trapped between his stomach and Rodney's asscheeks, with nowhere to go. The drizzle of hand-warmed oil on his chest was almost capable of making it worse.

"You are a cruel cruel man, Rodney." Especially the way he touched, and smoothed as if that was all he was thinking about in the world, when he was probably working on that string theory breakthrough. He was curious about whether that was true. "What are you thinking about?"

"Not too much. That I'm a very lucky man, mostly." Rodney leaned in, following the oil with his hands, pressing firmly against Carson's pectorals and shoulder muscles.

"And there I was thinking it would be something profound," Carson murmured opening his eyes. "Oh, that's good...that's good."

Fingers kneading his chest, pressing against muscles and loosening them. He'd taught Rodney how to do that accidentally. It was just that he'd done it to Rodney enough times that Rodney had learned it, picked up how to find the tight knots of muscle and press them into submission. "Nothing too profound, sorry."

"Ohh... when you're doing that it's practically a religious experience." Carson winced at sore spot and unknotted. "I should give myself... a medal for teaching you this."

"I knew all of those back massages weren't completely altruistic." There was a faint humming note in Rodney's voice, and he stopped massaging long enough to press a kiss against Carson's mouth. "Here I thought you were making up for the lack of orthopedic mattresses in Pegasus..."

"You used to come back so... tense you were practically like rock." He sighed a little, breathing out after he took the kiss. "You needed something...."

"Right." Rodney kissed his bottom lip, sucked on it just enough to tug when he sat back again. His hands started to slowly work their way down, nimble fingers tracing over his ribs, and then back up to his upper arms. "I have something."

"Is it enough of a something?" he murmured back. The feeling melted him gently, and he could feel his cock pressing again skin and it was just a sensation after sensation.

Slow, easy sensations. Rodney didn't slow down like that often enough, so Carson savored all of it. Hands on his arms, pressing and rubbing at muscles, then sliding back to rub and warm his stomach, as far as Rodney could reach without scooting backwards. "Yeah. It is. You are. Hence the I'm a lucky man thoughts."

"And see, here I was thinking that for your pre-hospital send off I should be doing this sort of thing to you," Carson pointed out. "I think I'm definitely the luckiest."

"You know how my mind goes when I'm not doing something." If he wasn't active, then, and no, that was true. Sometimes Rodney couldn't lie still long enough to enjoy being on the receiving end of that sort of slow, easy seduction.

He finally shifted back, rising up a little, and he stroked one oil-slick hand over Carson's cock. "How about you turn over now."

"Oh God, how about I do?" Carson answered with a rhetorical question. He rolled himself over and settled down, pillowing his head on his hands. "I'm not going to argue too much because this is just fantastic."

Once he was comfortable, Rodney settled just behind his ass, the swollen length of his dick wedged up against Carson's asscheeks. "I think so. Anywhere on your back that particularly feels... stiff?"

"Aside from your cock? No it's pretty much all a little that way," he admitted. "Is it your plan for there to be so much sex now I won't have caught breath until you come home?"

"Because I'm deeply concerned that you'll run away with that young man downstairs who keeps offering to help you bring groceries in," Rodney smirked. He was fumbling with the oil again, because Carson could hear it being opened, but none of it hit his back yet. Once upon a time, Rodney wouldn't have thought about warming it in his hands first.

"Oh well aye, he lifts a mean bag. I find that irresistible in a man," Carson said half muffled by his arms. "But I know if I do that you will find some devious physics related way to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"It's called a car bomb," Rodney deadpanned. There was the sensation of oil drizzling over his back in gentle zigzag patterns.

"Mmm, that feels wonderful. I'll risk the car bomb," he replied. "I remember... when you did this when we were on Dagan... and it was hot. The room smelt like magnolias."

"And the doors locked from the inside. That was making the best of summer humidity." Rodney's cock slid up along his asscrack when he leaned forwards to start massaging Carson's shoulders from behind.

"Oh good lord, Rodney..." He sighed a little. "We were sticky for days..."

And happy. Happy to be free, and to have survived their escape.

Happy to be alive and so full of hope, in those days before they realized that hope was possibly badly misplaced, before they started to carve out a niche for themselves. "We should take a long weekend and see if I can get you sticky for days again."

"Well you know, I'm sure that can be arranged," Carson replied. "Ohhhh that feels good. Feels bloody fantastic."

Thumbs pressed down along either side of his spine along his neck, slick fingers slowly rubbing and pressing, and god that was good. Rodney was definitely leaving Carson something to think on while he was away in the hospital, sliding his dick against Carson's ass again as he shifted his position.

"You are doing that casual rubbing on purpose aren't you, Rodney?" He said, twisting his head a little.

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't get so relaxed that you fall asleep." Rodney was smiling at him, a little absently, and his eyes were focused on Carson's back, same as his hands were.

"I wouldn't let that stop you even if I did," Carson replied. "That might be nice... waking up to that some day.

"It wouldn't seem weird?" That sounded like Rodney was giving it some thought, and his fingers stretched out, spread over Carson's shoulder blades. "I mean, it sounds interesting but if I woke up to that I might, uh, flip out."

"I know... but I think I could cope if it was you," Carson replied, testing his imagination. "I wouldn't do it to you..."

It was strange how they had different buttons from similar experiences. Things that tripped Rodney up, he dealt with and vice versa. It helped because they understood and could be strong for the other one. Somewhere along the line, it was like the two of them had merged very thoroughly out of need.

"I know." Knew and trusted, and he wouldn't lie awake at night wondering if Carson would try it on him sometime, but he might lie in the hospital at night and ponder trying it on Carson some time. He'd probably work his way up to it, petting Carson in his sleep a little more than he usually did, stroking him off, playing with his ass a little, and that was turning into a pretty hot fantasy for Carson. "Hmn. You know, I'd never thought of that before."

"A little thing to ponder when you are in hospital," Carson offered. "And for me, too. Mm." Fingers over slick skin, warm and gentle and enough to make him melt. "Sometimes... I wonder why you said yes to my suggestion."

"Which suggestion?" Rodney was taking his time, still working on Carson's shoulder blades, but slowly working down, relaxing Carson beneath him towards bonelessness before he probably set out to fuck Carson's brains out along with his bones.

"Of trying to have sex again. Really at the time it was a stupid suggestion because I was thinking of myself not you..." Carson sighed a little, remembering the guilt at Rodney's reaction to the suggestion.

It hadn't been good. Rodney had been all right with comfort and kissing, there was no question of that, but sex... Sex had made Rodney nervous at first, and their first fumbling attempt had been a flashback trigger for Rodney. "We worked past it," Rodney shrugged, pressing his fingertips into sore muscles. "It's very, very grounding for me now."

"I noticed that from the way I get pounced on," Carson replied. "Ooh yes... uhhh... Rodney.... that's good, very good..."

"Right here?" Rodney repeated the gesture, sounding a little eager. He was forgetting to do that casual hip grind, losing himself in actually massaging Carson's back.

"Definitely right there... oh my god yes..." He stretched out and smiled. "Genius at massage too..."

Rodney repeated the gesture again and again until the muscles felt warm and loose even to Carson, before his hands started to travel lower, to the small of Carson's back. Rodney scooted back.

It was good to feel his hands there, kneading at him. After a long day acting as an Ancient computer he felt the need to rejoin the human race all too keenly. It wasn't like with the Genii, where he was online for days at a time. Not even the time when they deliberately left him on as long as possible and he didn't eat or drink or sleep in that entire time and when they shut him down things got very hairy indeed for a while because the human body couldn't go that length of time without any of the above. He remembered Rodney shouting at him not to die quite a lot.

This was just... carelessness. This was just stupidity, and he wasn't sure how to bring it up or how to protest it, but Rodney welcomed him back to humanity. Made dinner or did something surprising like this, working the steady tension out of Carson's back. "Feels good?"

"Bloody amazing...." he mumbled."I think you removed my spine somehow." He felt loose and happy, connected with Rodney through the medium of touch.

"So I shouldn't ask if you want to get up onto your knees anytime soon," Rodney decided, or asked. Carson wasn't sure because there was a faint dribble of oil down his asscrack.

"Well, you know, I could probably find a way to prop myself up..." he offered, not wanting to miss out on that.

"Or you could relax and we can go the pillow route. It makes for easy cleanup." Harder and more interesting laundry, but certainly for easier in the moment cleanup. Rodney trailed a finger down through the oil, pressing gently against Carson's asshole.

"Whatever you prefer. You're the one driving tonight." And it would all be good. It always was. That finger just there was a promise and a tease and he wriggled just a little

Rodney groaned, and half-humped Carson's thigh. "Vroom vroom. Then I've made an executive decision." The ginger touch disappeared, and Rodney's weight on his thighs moved, too, along with the mattress when Rodney leaned up to grab his pillow to shove it under Carson's hips.

"Ach, you know how to treat a man, McKay," Carson said, shifting to one side to get the pillow under him. "Getting eager now are we?"

"A little. We'll go back to slow in a minute, I just don't want to..." He waved a hand a little, and then Carson heard, "Oh, shit, condom, hold on."

"Ordinarily I'd say don't bother, but I don't want you getting an infection," Carson murmured. Slow sounded good. Sounded wonderful

"That might be fun to try to explain at the hospital." But it wasn't as if his doctor didn't know that Rodney had a partner who could possibly attempt to move in when it came to terms of utilizing visiting hours. Rodney chuckled, and dug into the bulk purchase box that sat on the undershelf of the stand.

"Oh, they'd definitely blame me. I should know better," Carson replied turning his head to try and watch him. "I'm a doctor and we're meant to be infallible."

"That's funny, I didn't think that god-hood came with the degree." Rodney stood casually as he opened the condom wrapper, half-stroking himself. He was already hard, quite hard, cock jutting out straight from his body, bobbing a little as he moved, when he started to roll the condom on.

"Apparently so, but I thought you practical physicists and mathematicians were in the same boat." He reached out to stroke at that cock, and gently interfere in the process.

And with conversation. Rodney's voice faltered on a moan, and he canted his hips into Carson's hand, even as he pressed the condom down to the base. "Stop that, aren't you supposed to be relaxing?"

"This is relaxing, Rodney," Carson replied teasing him some more. "I just thought you ought to be ready." He smirked a little bit at his lover as helped smooth the condom down.

"I'm ready, I'm ready..." Rodney reached his fingers to slide them over Carson's wrist, but he didn't stop him. He slid his thumb over the tendons of Carson's wrist.

"No rush, remember?" Carson said softly. Rodney liked to feel he could stop him, feel the movements and allow it to happen. That was important to him. He thumb rubbed over the head of his erection, the pair of them completely focused.

Right there, two hands and one cock, and Rodney didn't stop him. He just massaged at Carson's wrist with the same finesse that he would have stroked off Carson's cock. But there was more sound, Rodney's mouth open and lax, watching Carson's hand. He sighed and groaned, quiet encouragement.

"No rush, right."

He was relaxed, and he loved Rodney, and if he'd been a little more lively, he probably would've twisted around to suck him to hardness. But a gentle teasing hand job would do.

"Lube?"

"Huh?" Rodney licked his bottom lip, and then shifted forwards to grab the actual lube. "Right, right. Lube. I wonder if there's a gay man's discount club for things like this." That was easy to get, at hand, just a lean of Rodney's torso away.

"Surprisingly enough, I found it easier to get hold of in Pegasus than here," Carson murmured waiting for him to slick some on. "Because we used to work out how to make our own."

"And sunscreen." And sunscreen-cum-lube. Rodney squeezed a glob onto his hand, and stroked it over his cock, pulling away so he could get back on the bed again. He seemed calmer again, quieter, and one slick hand pried at Carson's asscheeks. "I like this view. Do you think I could get a picture of you like this, all oiled up, frame it and put it on the bedside?"

"If that is what you want..." He could feel a tinge of embarrassment there, but if Rodney really wanted it, he wasn't going to deny him anything. "Only I'll hide it when we have visitors around."

Not that they had many.

"And I probably wouldn't let you use it as a screensaver."

"Damn, there went that idea." Rodney gently spread Carson's legs with one knee, and knelt behind him for the moment, sliding a slick finger into Carson. "I guess my day dreams would be better, anyway."

"Mmm..." Gone were the days of flinching when Rodney did that. There was the reassurance of his voice. Of his touch and scent, and it meant everything was okay somehow when they found it difficult to function around other people. "I expect to hear them in detail."

"Oh, great detail. About how tight your ass feels around my finger and how beautiful a sight you are when you're relaxed and stretched out like this." Rodney's finger shifted, pulled back and almost out, before a second slick finger joined it. Maybe a little too-slick, but playing fast and loose with the lube had never killed anyone.

He closed his eyes a moment exhaling slowly. "I'm thinking beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Rodney... and that feels bloody fantastic. I want you to relax, too..."

"I'm relaxed, and I'm liking what I'm beholding." He said that last bit with mock dramaticism, and certain almost accidentally punctuated it with a twist of his fingers inside of Carson's ass. "Mmm, now this doesn't feel relaxed enough."

"Jesus Christ, Rodney! If you keep doing that I'll be a lump of that jello stuff you obsessed over," Carson said through a bit of a gap, resisting the urge to bite his arm to muffle the noise.

It didn't help that Rodney did it again, and then oh-so-carefully gave one asscheek a squeeze with his free hand. "That sounds like a promise. Hold on, just another minute. I thought we were going slow...?"

"Well, that's all well and good until someone starts fingering your arse," Carson pointed out. "Rodney McKay you are a tease and you know it."

He twisted his fingers again, and then started to pull them out, but he bent them just so, just the way Carson knew Rodney knew would drive him just a little crazy, pulling at the edge of his hole when the fingers left. "At least you didn't use my middle name on me. There, I think you're ready. Are you ready?"

"Yes... yes...." He took a breath. "And I didn't use it because I can't seem to remember anything like coherent words right now."

He wanted it pushed in, he wanted it hard in him and then the slow endless moving together they had perfected that was so different from the rough sharp violence of their captors.

Carson could still remember every time, every moment, every time he'd been activated and left on and while he coped with it all differently than Rodney did, there was an assurance for him in Rodney's presence as much as Rodney found comfort in him.

And would shortly be finding it in him.

"Good." The bed squeaked a little, and Rodney settled on top of him, position himself to slide in at the same time. It was a little awkward like that, Rodney's thighs and knees resting outside of Carson's, but his feet hooking back in, pressing against Carson's calves for a little balance. The twining was comfortable and they both could get some pretty decent traction and that was Rodney's cockhead pressing against his hole.

It was a slow and familiar thing. A push that burned and then a stretch that had him holding his breath and then exhaling explosively. "Fuck me," he murmured as a statement rather than as a request. "I swear you've found the one truthful bit of computer spam and expanded your penis somehow."

"So the pills worked!" Rodney leaned on his elbows, staying still inside of Carson, and dipped his head down to kiss between his shoulder blades, against still warmed, loose skin. Once upon a time, Carson had bought scented oil, but Rodney had a habit of doing that, kissing him without thinking, and nothing quite killed the mood like Rodney rushing off to brush his teeth while demanding to know if anything in the oil was capable of killing him.

It was better to just go with something safe. Simple almond oil and it felt incredibly good just being there like that, Rodney in him, and feeling warm and alive and it was a moment that could go on forever.

"They did indeed," Carson replied chuckling a little. "Either that or I'm out of practice at being your love-toy."

Rodney dropped another lazy kiss between his shoulder blades, and he hunched his hips forwards just enough to jolt Carson. "I think it's that second one. God, I think I forgot how good this feels. You feel."

"Aye..." Carson muffled his gasp a little. "Slow then. Like... when we got home and it went on forever." At least it had felt like it. Slow and tender and almost a religious experience in the intensity of being home, on Earth regardless of the diagnosis that hung over Rodney's head.

Rodney pressed his face against Carson's back, and shifted again. His hands came up beneath Carson, palming his shoulders with one hand, his chest with the other. That felt wonderful, Rodney pressed along the line of Carson's back, barely moving for the moment. And when he did start to move, it was slow, a faint, easy back and forth motion.

It was practice and familiarity that allowed him to move slowly with him, a perfect companion to that gentle movement. This wasn't the passion of thunder and lightning, it was the joyful contentment of a perfect summer's day, a slow hazy love that conjured up relaxing days of sunlight and bucolic paradise-like fantasies. Every movement was close and intimate and molded them together.

It was beautiful, in its own way. Probably not much to look at, but from where Carson was he could feel every motion, ever shiver of muscle, every time Rodney rocked and clenched his ass, pressing farther into Carson, and then back out again. "God, so tight, you feel amazing, Carson, just like this, just... Ow! Ow, shit, ow, get off my ass! Ow ow ow, no, no kneading the Rodney, no, no..."

And he could feel Rodney twisting, pushing himself up on his hands and pulling out of Carson and kneeling up, and then a furry body was deposited right in front of Carson's face.

"...You have got to be kidding me!" Carson exhaled even as Zed made a rather distracting blarting noise at him, waving her tail with distinct displeasure. "You think you're pissed off..... think of me!" He started to chuckle a little. "She's probably mentally scarred for life... again."

"After the sixth time, I think we can drop the again. My ass isn't that soft and she shouldn't be kneading it." And for all that Rodney sounded utterly pissed off, he reached a hand forwards to stroke the top of Zed's head before he tried to get back into position.

While laughing.

"You know, it's going to be bloody difficult to get back the mood with a kitten watching us?" Carson pointed out even as he felt Rodney on him then. Zed seemed unimpressed and lay down with a yawn, tail still twitching. "Oh... then again..."

It wasn't that difficult, not with those sensations all over again. Rodney pressing into him again, even if the pulling out had been a mite quick. "But I have this great erection, Carson. You said it's a shame to waste something like that."

"Y...yeah, you are right about that," he exhaled, relaxed, just as Zed rolled playfully onto her back and watched him with upside down eyes. "I really need to be closing my eyes about now."

"Uh-huh. Zed, the humans don't want to play right now. Not that play." Rodney prodded her belly, and Carson knew his other hand was guiding his erection back into Carson, stretching his hole slowly all over again, and it was past time to close his eyes.

The cat squeaked, and Carson wanted to laugh.

"Oh my god, Rodney, tell your cat to do something else. Throw a condom over the edge of the bed for her to chase I...." He was trying not to chuckle but the sensations from the pressure and the vibrating movement from laughing was something else.

"You're laughing!" Rodney sounded mock offended, and there was another squeak, and Rodney leaned to one side. Good, maybe he'd scooped her off and had her playing with the condom wrapper. Anything, just anything at all to keep her from hopping up on the bed again.

"I am... I am... we've just had a bad case of felinus coitus interruptus and we both need attention immediately or it might be too late," Carson teased. "So... I need my emergency fucking right now. Stat, even if I were one of your ridiculous American medical dramas."

"Stat, huh?" Rodney was pushing in, and then he was in, and Carson could feel him settling onto his back again, and one hand slid to stroke Carson's cheek. "If she does it again, I'm ignoring her."

"If you carry on like that, I won't even notice," Carson replied turning towards that hand and kissing at lingering fingers. He smiled a little and settled. The mood was creeping back and maybe it wasn't how a lot of people did it. Maybe it was strange and a mixture of awkward making a peculiar form of comfortable for the pair of them but they'd fixed each other adapting to the quirks and not caring or being embarrassed with each other. Maybe it wasn't normal, but it was as close as they got.

And it was good. Rodney mumbled something against the back of Carson's neck, and he settled, sliding his fingers down the front of Carson's chest, hips inching back to the previous comfortable pace. If the cat jumped on his ass again, he didn't disturb Carson to dislodge her.

And Carson had his eyes closed so his world consisted only of Rodney, his weight, his movement and the touch of his skin and fingers...the grip of them on his skin...the drop of a kiss on his back when he held the movement to hold from the edge. Nothing but Rodney.

It had been that way a long while and he didn't regret it. He knew it probably wasn't a normal relationship but that didn't matter. He knew that they were watched and he knew that if Rodney didn't make it, he'd probably tell them to turn the database on and leave it there because Rodney had no idea what it would mean for him to lose him.

Rodney didn't believe he could matter that much to anyone. And he did.

"Oh god, fuck, fuck, Carson..." He barely picked up speed, and his dick was still going steadily in and out, in and out. It was hard to get a hand between them like that, but Rodney would roll Carson over onto his back and suck him off.

That would be great and Rodney had patience sometimes when it came to sex. Not many other times, but yes... now, when it came to giving them a memory to hold onto after tomorrow and the hospital. He moved with him perfectly, practiced now at doing so and it was more than good. It was a fire inside him, a warmth that he always imagined spreading through him. "Rodney... fuck, yes... that's.... right there and..."

And if he tried to speak, he would choke or something, so he settled for a moan.

Rodney wormed a hand down, and wrapped his fingers around Carson's cock. Even if it put him off balance, broke the motions a little, Rodney's fingers were talented and knew just how to stroke Carson off. His thumb pressed against the head of Carson's cock, and his fingers started to stroke and squeeze while he kept thrusting. Carson could feel Rodney's hard breathing.

God, he loved that, he always loved that and it went on for so long, time stretching out with all the sensations of pleasure. Looked like Rodney was trying for another infamous shot at perfect timing and that was fine by him, absolutely fine the way his fingers gripped him, moved and the thrust and burn in his ass sending jolts to overload his brain.

He felt the moment Rodney kicked it into higher gear.

He felt the moment where thrusting turned a little desperate, like Rodney was trying to find purchase inside of Carson's ass. Carson felt when Rodney ducked his head down against his back, kissing and murmuring against his skin, and then gasping because he had to be coming when he was moving like that, jerking like that.

It wasn't hard then to let go, to push hard against that hand and hit the crest of the wave and ride it to his own orgasm which had a tendency to make him call out incomprehensibly in a much broader Scottish accent than normal. It was just a quirk he had, and it wasn't so much the accent that made it incomprehensible as the fact words disintegrated into component syllables and his brain checked out for a little while after the climax exploded in his brain. Somewhere in there was "Rodney!", "Fucking amazing!", and "Oh fuck yes...yes..", which probably summed up his reactions succinctly.

Rodney slumped against his back, gasping and acting as a pretty heavy weight. His fingers still moved a little shakily over Carson's dick, touching skin that was too sensitive to do that to. "Oh, god, Carson... Mmm, Carson." Rodney kissed the back of his neck, voice thick and lazy.

Carson let himself relax completely. "If... your idea was to make sure I wouldn't forget what sex was like.... I'm going to be remembering that for a good while..." he mumbled eventually. "In a very good way..."

"I am a sex god." Rodney chuckled when he said it, voice tilted towards happily strained, and he started to smooth his fingers over Carson's stomach. "Uhm, I hate that I'm going to have to move."

"Then don't. Just stay there," Carson replied, all the tension of the day completely gone. "I love you Rodney. You are going to remember that, right?"

"Hard to forget." Rodney would move, eventually. He'd have to take the condom off and wash himself off, and then he'd put his boxers back on and curl up to pet and just touch Carson. But for the moment he seemed at ease enough to lie there, stroking Carson's chest and stomach.

"You're going to get better," Carson murmured tiredly. "You're going to work out that breakthrough as well. You can do anything."

Rodney McKay could do anything. Everything. That's why he was letting himself hope he was going to survive this.

"Yeah." Rodney pressed another kiss between Carson's shoulders, and sighed against him. Carson could feel Rodney's dick going soft, but he didn't quite want him to move away yet. "I love you, too."

It always made Carson smile because though Rodney showed it in a million different ways he rarely said the words aloud in case it would turn out to be a lie or something. He didn't know why exactly but it was rare enough to make the words special to him.

Later he would turn and hold him, he would kiss him and watch him fall asleep and just watch him breathing and find a quiet miracle in that after everything. Then he would try and use that sense of wonder to look for their own personal miracle despite all his knowledge that stacked the odds against them so thoroughly.

For the moment, though, Carson was going to enjoy the lazy, wiped out sensation of it, and pretend that there wasn't a kitten at the end of the bed chewing on his toes.

The nurses in the hallway were conspiring against Rodney. He was sure of it because they kept talking with each other and whispering and peeking at him in that infuriating way that the nurses and doctors in Atlantis had. It made Rodney want to flick them all off, repeatedly, and he knew that he'd spent too long around the Marines and Air Force and Army.

He never could work out what they said. Whether it was about him or towards him or what.

Half the time, they would give him sickly sweet saccharine smiles that he knew were false, and the rest of the time he was pretty sure they were plotting their revenge for his unbeaten track record of managing to vomit on every single nurse at least once during his stay in the terribly sterile room, with drugs and this and that going direct into a central line which he nearly freaked about being too close to his heart until Carson pointed out that he used them all the time, yes even on him on occasion.

It really proved that medicine was a voodoo habit, because who in their right mind ever sat down and went, 'hey, this is a great idea, let's stick it near the heart!', except a doctor. They weren't that far past the days of leeches and bleeding to lower blood pressure and cure all ails.

Bone marrow transplants were right up there with the voodoo, Rodney decided. He hated being sick, hated throwing up and being stuck in bed, even if he had a laptop.

His hair was falling out.

It wasn't like he had been faintly alarmed by the fact his hairline had been receding by increments naturally, but somehow the morning he had absently ran his fingers through his hair, soft and loose, and it pulled free, winding around his fingertips and trailing limply, had made him realize he was ill. Not just a little ill, but really ill and for most of that day he'd not done much work but stared obsessively at the dead hair that multiplied on every surface around him.

Carson had still kissed him when he came in, hair or not.

He hadn't -- no, he had expected it. He really had, but it didn't make Rodney feel any better about how he looked with his hair falling out like that. Just because Carson still kissed him didn't mean that he was actually attractive with his hair doing that, and Rodney was pretty sure he was going to demand hats in short order until it started to grow back.

Carson had given him a more thorough explanation of the descriptions his doctor at the hospital had given of each process. Sometimes he was amazed that the human body ever managed to move at all with the amount of things that could be wrong. Medicine was way too messy a subject for him and it privately amazed him that Carson made sense of any of it.

Jeannie had stayed a few days. Stayed with him when he was puking his guts up and reminded him of times in their childhood when he had been spectacularly sick. It turned out to be quite a few times.

He only remembered some of them -- he'd been too young, and Rodney really didn't have many memories before the age of six or so. He remembered one time with the flu that he'd sat and played games with her while delirious. But it had been good to see her, even if she'd looked sad and hopeful, and he'd made her promise to come back and visit sometime during the summer.

She'd said they'd all come up, make a family vacation of it and it was strange to have someone who cared like that. It made him think about redoing his will again but he had a vaguely superstitious inkling that that would be admitting defeat or accepting that he wasn't going to make it.

Carson would be there soon. He wasn't entirely convinced that Carson would ever go home if not for little Zed, whom he missed ridiculously.

He was a sucker for cats, no matter how long or short a time he'd had the cat. Zed was sweet, sweet on Carson, and Rodney suspected that it helped Carson to have just someone to go home to. Something. Carson would settle in for two or three hours, however long they decided he could stay, maybe more time, maybe less. If Rodney could get himself not to throw up, probably longer, and it was good to just have Carson there, talking vaguely about his day, reminiscing.

In the meantime, he'd done a ridiculous amount of work, now just needing to get hold of the equipment to trial an artificially created subspace universe which could be done, and this was the clever part, using Stargate technology by configuring the thing to blow the equivalent of a bubble out of the flux involved in wormhole dynamics because it was like that string theory and they could use that to tether it to a storage unit and hey, Rodney McKay reinvents the ZedPM for Earth and more to the point, all those empty ZedPMs they found could possibly be recharged.

They might let him borrow the Stargate for a couple of days. Or a Stargate if they thought they might get that out of it.

It was something they wanted, they all wanted, and all he had to do was get out of the hospital and get to the base and then they might let him do it. Because the ZedPMs they had were useless now, but if they could charge them, well.

They'd let him try it when he got out. Test it.

If that theory worked, he could work out maybe a less energy efficient means of storage and try and build one from nothing. That would be fun. But if he could recharge the ZedPM and had basic schematics of a Stargate hook up, it wouldn't matter how much an intergalactic jump drained. It would be rechargeable. Pegasus would be a few heartbeats away, if they could manufacture the control crystal, reprogram an old one from a defunct system gate.

"Hello Rodney, how're you feeling today?" Carson's soft voice surprised him.

He turned his head, and hit ctrl-s in the same gesture that he used to scoot up a little, sitting up. "Hey, I was just thinking about you." That was how he was feeling. And sick. And he'd thrown up on the blonde nurse with the pigtails.

"I have good timing," Carson said moving over to him and kissing him gently. "Been sick much more? Maybe they should up your anti nausea drugs...."

"I got the blonde one out in the hallway after lunch." Rodney tipped his head up and pressed the kiss, maybe a little more than he should have, but he was tired of being in a hospital and he was tired of only being able to kiss Carson. If he thought he could have gotten away with it, he would have pulled Carson into the bathroom for at least a blowjob. His dick had gotten spoiled by almost two years of really good sex and nearly daily orgasms.

"Mmm, I've missed you, too, Rodney. It won't be much longer, " Carson promised as he settled into the seat beside him and took his hand, like he always did. "I've told you to try and avoid being sick on the nurses -- always stay on the right side of the nurses. It's a rule to live by."

"They're always in the way! I told her I needed the bedpan and she told me I didn't, and, well, I was right and she was wrong. I think the patient knows when the bad mac and cheese isn't going to stay down." He clutched tight to Carson's hand, and slunk down in the bed a little, using his other hand to push at the swiveling over the bed worktable he had. "I think I have my breakthrough. When I get out of here, I need, uh, access. To the mountain."

"You will?" Carson looked at him. "Well, I'm sure they'll jump at the chance, Rodney. You know that Sam frequently asks after you."

Carson's hand settled him, in ways he didn't even want to try and explain. Just feeling him there, knowing he'd be there every day. Carson was a constant. The sun rose and set, the gravitational constant was 6.6742(10) x 10-11 m3 kg-1 s-2, and Carson held his hand. "Yeah? If you see her at work tomorrow, tell her I had a break through and I'll be in to rub her face in it, oh, when I manage to find the freetime."

"I'll make a point on doing that. Sounds like you had a far more productive day than I did," Carson replied. "Although I have once again brought in food you are probably not allowed to officially have yet."

Whatever it was, Carson knew it wasn't harmful to him and a lot more appetizing than the bland stuff they gave him. Not that Rodney had a problem with bland, no. He enjoyed airplane food and MREs, but there was bland and then there was bland and aimed for geriatrics, which was what hospital food was. "You hid it in your laptop bag?"

"Where else?" Carson said lifting the bag up and putting it on the bed. "You have a wee look at this, love, while I take a peek at that chart of yours, see how you are doing."

"You held up a seven-eleven, didn't you?" He just peeked into the bag, but there were various things in there, but he could see a zip-lock bag full of goldfish crackers, the glistening wrapper of a chocolate bar, probably the really good stuff, and another bag of -- oh, god, peanut butter and jelly, he knew that was what the sandwich was going to be. "My god, you're a miracle worker."

"You eat that after your next anti-nausea shot," Carson said flipping through the chart. Rodney could see that suddenly there was a broad smile on his face even as he studied the scribbled notes.

"Is any of that good news? I couldn't make heads or tails of it, but the doctor has really shitty handwriting." He tossed that out as a tease, trying to push down genuine curiosity, because Carson was smiling.

"Aye, well, it would seem that certain white blood cells are returning from their holiday," Carson said. "Which means the bone marrow has finally started generating white blood cells so it must have settled in, made itself at home and started working. No abnormals, just healthy cells." His smile was full of happiness just then, like someone had given him the best present ever

"And in layman's terms that means I'm getting better?" Oh, oh god. Maybe he was bald and throwing up, but hell, if he was cancer free or on his way to it, all of that misery seemed worth it!

"In layman's terms that means in a week at the most I'll be taking you home," Carson said concentrating on the important things. "And buying you a sunhat. You could have a buzz cut."

Getting home was important. Even if he just hid out and felt sick around the house, he'd rather do that at home than in a hospital. He'd rather lie on the sofa in his boxers and t-shirt at home than spend another day in a hospital gown. "That might be a good idea, since it's still..." Rodney waved a hand a little. "Coming out in pieces."

"It'll grow back," Carson promised, returning to his side. "Though it could grow back curly. Or silver. I've seen that one a few times." He sat down, getting comfortable.

Rodney reached and took his hand again, and he felt a little like he was stealing it, but it wasn't as if Carson was actually going to use it. He closed his laptop, and peered over at Carson. "Silver? So I get to have a premature grey along with my receding hairline. Fantastic."

"It usually changes back," Carson said with a half smile. "You'd look very distinguished like that. So, do you want to see what Zed has been up to today? I should work out how to fix up the web cam near her bed for you."

"You're just trying to stop me from working," Rodney tsked and it was true, sort of. He knew that if he could watch Zed, he'd probably lose track of more hours than he knew what to do with. "Now, if you set a web cam up near our bed..."

"Rodney, I'm sure that would be very wrong. " Carson did have a mischievous glint in his eye though that meant he might just do it. "After all, why would you want to watch me sleep hmm?"

"Who said anything about watching you sleep?" Rodney lifted his eyebrows at Carson, while he shifted the laptop case to the side. "I just want to watch you. And, if you put it in the bedroom I'm much more likely to see Zed since she doesn't actually like her bed."

"That's your fault. You let her sleep on the bed because she was lonely, and now she thinks it belongs to her and we are her portable heaters," Carson replied, and he could see him thinking about it. Maybe he might do something like that for Rodney, because it was the sort of thing he did.

But Carson would do it unexpectedly and Rodney wasn't going to be an ass and push his luck. Carson had smuggled real food in to him, after all. "You mean, we're not portable kitten heaters?" Rodney made a show of blinking at Carson. "Oh my god, my life has been a lie!"

Carson laughed, a low happy laugh. "Aye, that's true. Shocking revelation to have at your time of life."

"And here I thought I was a kitten heater..." Rodney tilted his voice towards mock-mourning, and he squeezed Carson's hand. "You're looking better. Good day at work?"

"Aye, though it is coming here that makes the most of it. They had a message from Elizabeth. She thinks she's got a lead on Radek so they might be hunting around a while longer, but I thought you might like to hear that," Carson said as his thumb stroked over the skin of his hand.

Radek. God, if Radek was still alive, he could get so much more work done, even if it was arguing with someone else who really understood, because he'd missed that. He'd missed Radek even as his most stupid and stubborn, and... "Radek's alive? That's... that's amazing. Am I asleep? Because getting better and Radek being alive seems an unlikely coincidence."

"Maybe we are just due some good luck," Carson replied. "And I didn't say he was definitely, only that they had a good lead. It doesn't mean anything for sure but it does seem that he survived the uh...confrontation after all." He was being careful, he was tiptoeing around terms just in case someone came in on someone had bugged the place.

Always a possibility, so Rodney just nodded. "If there's even a rumor Radek is still somewhere being Radek, then I'd believe it. Even if they don't find him." It wasn't as if Radek had the kind of off-world presence that might lead to legends and wild rumors.

"He always had an ability to survive regardless," Carson agreed and went quiet a moment. Rodney knew he was thinking of John again. It was difficult not to. So much of who they all were was wrapped up with each other. Outsiders back where they should belong.

"Yeah. He was in the military for a while. Funniest thing -- he had the probably the best training for, you know. Than any of the rest of us, and he hated going." Rodney's mouth tugged down for a moment, because Radek would have survived, and John should have survived, and Rodney wasn't thinking about that.

He didn't need to be told he had probably done something stupidly and idiotically heroic that he knew he would've been able to prevent or render unnecessary had he been there. That was pretty much a given with John Sheppard.

"It made him jittery," Carson replied with a sigh. "Mind you I had my moments in that line as well."

"You cut -- did surgery on a suspected madman. While I ran through the woods screaming like, according to Major Lorne, a girl. I'd just like to reestablish that it was entirely justified." He shifted to stretch his legs out pulled at Carson's hand. "Really justified."

"It was. Realistically you were the one behaving appropriately," Carson agreed. "No, I meant from before...I did some trips before we all met up. I didn't always cover myself in glory, but it meant I had practical experience that other more qualified people lacked."

"Huh. The, they never trusted me enough. They sent me to Russia, and for a while there I thought I was only sent on the --well, because it didn't matter if I ended up dead. Which would have been a waste of genius, but their loss. They're lucky neither of us are ambitious enough to defect. I hear Mexico is lovely this time of year."

"Don't bait the FBI. Or whoever is watching us this week," Carson said with a smiled and lifted their twined hands to kiss at his fingers. "They know what a resource you are, Rodney. You build things... practical things that are just one shot solutions. Even things like that compression logarithm..."

"I'd still like to have it named after me." Rodney could feel his face flush a little, and he twisted his fingers to rub them over Carson's jaw. He liked the feeling of familiar stubble, a couple of days of growth, rubbing against his fingers. "You're doing that lazy shaving thing to torment me, aren't you?"

"That and I forgot this morning because I was late leaving, so I skipped on the shaving," Carson replied. "Does this mean I have to stop living like a slob again? Stop living on take out?"

"Because I might be coming home soon?" Rodney shifted his fingers, letting the tips linger at the edge of Carson's jaw. "Hell no. I want a burger."

"I'll buy you a burger when you've managed not to vomit on a nurse for at least a day," Carson replied. "Then I'm taking you home, and I'm probably going to suck your brains out through your cock. That's probably going to be after the burger though."

It pulled a laugh out of Rodney. "Hey, I thought you were worried about eavesdroppers. Are we allowed to give them free porn?"

"I'll charge them later," Carson promised. "Unless we turn them all gay with our incredibly hot bodies falling out of the bed."

"Coincidentally, my knees are the only part of me that usually hurt, and they're not hurting now. I'm thinking that there's a testable correlation there," Rodney noted, mouth quirking as he turned his fingers again to grasp Carson's hand. Carson visiting was the highlight of his day, as much as his breakthrough that he needed to test.

"It could be, although I don't remember you spending that much time on your knees," Carson teased. It was good when Carson teased him. It sparked off distracting thoughts and he spent happy times plotting what he would be doing when he was well enough.

"Hmn." Rodney moved one leg under the sheets, bent it and stretched it. There wasn't even the usual crack of the joint, so he peered over at Carson's knees. "Well, how're yours?"

"Not too bad," Carson waggled a leg. "Perhaps there is something to your theory."

Or it might just be that they hadn't left Carson locked up and standing somewhere for hours on end for a change.

That would have been good. There wasn't anything he could do about it, except protest, and keep trying to protest. "We'll have it put it to extensive testing pretty soon since, hey, you just said yourself that they might spring me soon. Right?" He shifted to sit up again, restless and tired all at once, and queasy while hungry.

"Right. They'll wait until you have a decent level of white blood cells to fight off infection," Carson said. "It'll be a few days yet, Rodney, and even when you come home, you'll feel tired and groggy."

"So? I'll be home," Rodney pointed out, voice rising a little. "And that makes, I mean, I hate being stuck here. I'm sick and groggy here, I'd rather be sick and groggy at home, with you and Zed and all the computers I need." And real food that he could maybe keep down and and...

And.

And it didn't matter when he rattled on and on about what he wanted when he got home, what he was going to do, what he wanted to eat, how he wanted to lie and watch TV with Carson on the couch, how he wanted to make love in ever increasingly fantastic ways. It didn't matter because all the way through it, he knew that Carson wanted all that, too. No one had ever done that for him before. He'd thought for a while on Atlantis he had it and the whole... Thing that wasn't a Thing no matter what Carson said.... but this was different. This was real and solid and more provable than any of his brilliant equations.

It was strange and mysterious but he did know that Carson wanted everything he wanted for himself and more besides. If that wasn't love, Rodney was pretty sure he didn't want to know about any other kind.

Colonel Carter had suggested it to Rodney when they'd been going over -- and refining -- his research for the fifth time. That was probably where the real problem lay; he hadn't exactly been paying attention because she hadn't only been suggesting places to him that his family could visit when they came down, but she'd been praising his research.

Rodney wished he'd done a little less grinning and agreeing and had actually thought about what going to the Cave of the Winds could entail. Like, actual caves.

But when it came down to it, he needed the ideas because hey, he had a family who needed entertaining and he'd never really done that before. He was better, he knew he was better and god, things had been great and fantastic, and Carson had been happy, and niggling problems were pushed into the background.

Then Jeannie, Madison and Caleb were there for the visit and Rodney unraveled a little and grasped at any idea he'd been given in his effort to be a convincing good host. Although he had nearly sent Jeannie home when she laughed at his growing back hair.

It was weird and still pretty short, but it was also coming back curly, which Rodney had taken to trying to hide with hats. At least it grew back, and it wasn't silver, Carson had insisted, but it didn't make Rodney's hair any less curly.

But, somewhere in there Rodney had declared that, hey, one of his colleagues had suggested these really interesting caves, and most of the sights around the area were naturey outside ones, so... So it had been a bad idea, Rodney decided while he offered his debit card to cover the cost of everyone's tickets.

"You been to the Cave of the Winds before, Uncle Rodney?" Madison asked brightly as they waited for the tickets. "What's it like?"

"It's a cave, honey. There's wind in it," Jeannie said with amusement and her husband grinned at her.

Carson on the other hand was looking a little bit serious and, if someone knew him, a little apprehensive.

Which, Rodney did. Knew him. "Colonel Carter mentioned it was interesting," Rodney told her. His card was processing, and he'd sign it off quickly. "They've been giving tours of it since the late 1800s. There's a forty-five minute tour and an hour and a half tour with lanterns, if you uh, well, we should decide now."

"Lanterns sound kinda cool," Madison said her eyes lighting up. "Can we do that one?"

"Madison, your uncle might not be up to too long a walk," Caleb said looking over at him. "He's been ill."

Of course that pretty much guaranteed they would have to do the longer tour.

"No, no, we can do lanterns," Rodney said, while he sure that Carson was giving him looks that screamed 'this is a bad idea', which it probably was. But he could push himself that far. It was just an hour and a half of probably slow walking, and he was up to that.

No problem.

Madison beamed at him as they got their tickets and glanced at Carson. "Dr. Carson? Don't you like caves?"

Carson startled a little. "What? Oh... oh well, I just get a wee bit of claustrophobia sometimes."

"Boy, this probably wasn't the best idea, was it?" Caleb said to him clapping him on the shoulder. "Not coming in with us then?"

"Oh, no... no, it's okay. It's not that bad. Rodney wouldn't forgive me if I was so useless in front of guests." Carson excused himself. "I'll be fine."

"Rodney certainly would forgive you," Rodney reiterated. He took his ticket and casually snagged Carson's hand with his freehand, and tossed a tight smile to his sister. "C'mon. This should be... fun. Carson and I don't do the tourist thing around here."

"You tend not to in your own back yard," Jeannie commented. "Unless you have visitors. Madison, wait up, we'll have to wait for a tour guide, so don't rush off."

"It's not like I'm ten, Mom," Madison protested. "I am sixteen, you know."

"Really? It must've been the way you skipped merrily," Jeannie said dryly.

"I am so disowning you. Uncle Rodney can I live with you now?" Madison asked as she walked backwards for a few steps ahead of them

"Nope. You'd need a security clearance." He intoned that gravely, still carefully threading his fingers in with Carson's. "Even the cat had to get clearance. Special courier and everything. Plus, you'd have to sleep on the sofa, and that sofa? Has seen better days."

"Really better days, " Carson agreed with a smirk and Madison poked at him.

"I did not need to know that!" she said as they joined a group waiting for a guide.

"Neither did I," Jeannie put in as well.

Rodney was impressed at how normal Madison managed to make herself appear. He knew from talking to her that she really did have a good mind but... anyone would think she was an average kid looking at her in public. He wished he'd mastered that at her age.

But no, he's just about had freak written on his forehead in permanent marker, and he'd never known when to stop being smug about being right, not even then and there. "What? What, no -- oh, god no! I meant, between spilled coffee and Zed working her claws out on the arms, it -- Jeannie, what've you taught my niece, huh? I've met Marines that're slower to jump to that conclusion!"

"Well obviously because they don't think as fast," Jeannie replied and smiled again. "That's scarcely a condemnation, Rodney."

"Huh, good point, good point..." Rodney let his voice trail off. Other people were crowding in to join the little tour, and Caleb was talking with the worker who was handing out the lanterns. He still had Carson's fingers in his hand, and Carson was probably taking the quiet to steel himself.

If Rodney thought about it, it had been a bad idea.

There were too many memories, bad memories, desperate memories, associated with caves. For the both of them. The smell of them, the feel of them.

Carson's fingers tightened in his own as the tour guide started off his spiel about the Caves prior to taking them in.

And lanterns. Lanterns reminded Rodney of Dagan, where he'd longed for heavy D batteries and a maglight that he could use as a weapon to beat back wild animals, where at best he'd had a hurricane lantern and a worst one of those guttering torches. No one would have been proud of him to know that his want for electricity on Dagan had come from nostalgia for maglights.

"Hey," he whispered to Carson. "You gonna be okay?"

"You're here, aren't you?" Carson murmured back. "I was just thinking about... then. The place where you hid us behind the rocks and we nearly got stuck."

"Yeah, the rocks. Not my best strategic moment, but..." Rodney trailed off and cleared his throat a little. Later. They could reminisce at each other later, could get caught up in it later because if Rodney started to think about it now he wasn't going to stop thinking about it and Carson would end up having to hit him or something until he calmed down.

Deep breath, squeeze Carson's hand, and oh, someone was handing him a lantern.

It was better than running around in the cave screaming. Come to think of it, did he have any good memories of caves?

Oh. Oh, well yes that of course.

That. That was a nice one. A little exploring at home, him and Carson and some bright purple mushrooms that ended up having a medicinal use, but it had been the camping trip aspect of it, sans mosquitos, and yes. Yes, he could concentrate on that memory as the tour-guide started to walk forwards.

They were hearing about how spectacular the place was, how the first explorers would've been carrying lanterns much like this and yes, experience the same awe as they undoubtedly would when they glimpsed the caves' wonders. There were legends thrown in with the spiel as they walked leisurely, and cautions to mind their step as some parts of the cave were damp and that made the walkways slippery.

That just made Madison more interested and Carson's grip that much tighter.

Ghost stories about creatures and spirits and lost miners and explorers, but the paths were well traveled and Rodney didn't care. Even the most perfect of caves and pathways were full of pitfalls and hiding places, where a man could stand and shoot people down one after another after another after another after--

Rodney tripped on one of those smooth curves where the walls were flat to the walkway except for some beautiful rock formations, where there were no holes for bodies to be tucked into and covered in living webbing to be held for later snacking. It was just a normal curve and he did the normal thing, flailing and dropping his lantern and still holding onto Carson when his balance went out from under him and he hit his knees and one palm on the tunnel floor.

It was the scrape and stumble that did it and the reach of Carson beside him, and a hurried, "Rodney? Are you all right?" whispered in his ear in that exact same tone as he remembered.

He couldn't go on like that forever.

Rodney knew he couldn't, wouldn't, because he wasn't a very brave man. He was the antithesis of brave and he was tired and scared and there were times when he just knew that he wasn't going to be able to do it again. He wasn't going to be able to get up again in the morning, after whenever he was escorted back to their cell, and start the day over when he knew what he was facing. His fingers hurt, and his throat hurt, and his ass hurt and he was going to give up. It was over, just, just really over.

No one was coming for them. No one was going to rescue them. Carson was probably being interrogated and his brain hurt from having to do the same tedious wiring over and over and over and over and that was just the final indignity.

If he stared hard enough at the warped starburst scar on Kolya's back, while the other man stood up and pulled his pants back on, maybe it would catch fire.

It surprised him when Kolya glanced around at him and spoke. Usually he didn't bother with too much conversation if he was in one of his grim moods and he was certainly in one of those today.

"You won't be going to the facility tomorrow," he said in his rough voice, as if a change didn't mean some new and potentially terrifying torture.

"No?" Rodney tried to sound happy and flippant, but he was reaching for it and his voice shook. It always did that, now, because defiance didn't get him very far. Defiance got him fucked. "Where will I be going?"

"I have not been informed." Kolya straightened up. "There are enough devices now."

What he meant was they had run out of the material necessary to make the damn things. And something was wrong with his normal captor.

Well, normal being a sort of fuzzy term for 'usual', Rodney decided as he pulled a little at the restraints that were keeping his wrists over his head. "So I'm off to some new task? Is that it? What's going on -- you can't, you can't kill me, I'm too useful, they'd -- they'd give you anything you wanted to get us back, I've told you that..."

The look he turned on him then was intense. "Dr. McKay, if they were in a position to get you back, then maybe they would've done so before now, hmm?" He shrugged on his jacket. "The Wraith have massed. Not since the Ancestors has there been mention of a Queen-Hive. If I were not a soldier, a warrior, I am sure I would be contemplating running and hiding in as deep a hole as I could find as soon as I could."

He held Rodney's gaze just a few moments too long.

It was something Rodney was almost used to. Almost. He still went cold inside, and stretched his arms again. "Oh, oh. Great. Queen-Hives? Like a flagship? So, we're..." So that was it. That was why the bombs and oh, god, they were probably all going to die so why go to the facility the next day?

"We're going to fight," Koyla replied and leaned over and abruptly released his hands. "This would've been easier for you if you accepted the right of conquest I had on you. But then, you Lanteans lack in some elements of civilized behavior. Clean up now."

Right of conquest, he remembered that and thought it was oh, insane, and the Soviets had so much more on the Genii in terms of civilization, and that he was doing Stalin a disservice with the general comparison. But he sat up, rubbing at his wrists and trying not to get caught up in cataloguing the aches of his body, the burn in his ass, the bruises on his lips and everything else that added up to, up to-- no.

"Sure."

"You will not eat here tonight," Koyla announced as he watched him move slowly. "I must leave shortly. I have arranged for rations to be taken to your quarters. Your Dr. Beckett should be returned to you tonight. I hope you can perform your usual magic of bringing him back to his senses, as I suspect he has been interrogated regarding Queen-Hives for some time."

More than a day at least. He could imagine the panic the Genii had gone through when something unheard of took place. And when that happened, Carson got taken away.

"Yeah, sure, talking him back to sanity, no, not a problem at all. It's run of the fucking mill right now." Rodney's voice broke at the edges, fell apart, but there was a shallow bowl of water he could wash in and he was past the point of struggling to cover himself and clean up. It wasn't like Kolya didn't know what his ass looked like.

The sad thing it actually was run of the mill along with all the other daily torments they endured.

Koyla watched him clean himself and meticulously straightened his buttons. "They were wrong. We should've joined forces," he said suddenly as he checked his weapons.

That was staggering. That was nearly an apology. Nearly a ...regret. In all this time, Koyla behaved like this had been the best plan ever the Genii had come up with.

And now he saying that it wasn't, and Rodney didn't know what to say because... because. Because he was sick and tired and nowhere in his life had he ever imagined that one day he'd be a bomb-making fucktoy in another Galaxy, and now he was getting an apology. Rodney washed his hands, reaching for a dry towel, dabbing at his raw wrists. "Yeah. We should have."

"Enough. Finish up. I must get you back to your quarters," Koyla said. "You made them, I must use them."

He moved to the door expecting Rodney's implicit obedience just as he had done when he announced to him that stupid thing about' right of conquest', as if that would magically make a difference in the way he behaved.

He pulled his clothes on, muscles shaking and screaming protest at him, but if he was going to die, he'd rather do it with Carson than with Kolya. The Genii commander could have fun with the fruit of Rodney's shaking hands, and he wasn't going to start the argument of how much faster they could have had them made on Atlantis and how much better and how much better for them all, if only.

If only. He jerked his shirt down, shoved his feet in his shoes, and started to walk.

They walked in silence this time, a familiar walk when Koyla wasn't off doing whatever things Koyla did. Kill people, abduct people, steal things, blow up things... all of that. It wasn't far but it always seemed like that when they got to their quarters. Cell more like, and when Koyla opened the door with his code and he could see inside, there was Carson lying rigid on the bed as if he had been carried and dumped there, his eyes still staring straight up.

There was food there too, but for once that wasn't his main priority.

"Carson? Dammit, did they even turn you off?" He stepped forwards and barely heard the door close behind him. There was a beep missing in the sequence, but Carson was staring, and everything else didn't matter because Carson was not going to die and leave him alone in that fucking hellhole.

"No. Database still active," he replied with the accent-less voice that freaked the hell out of him whenever they heard it.

"Deactivate!" Rodney knelt down beside the bed, and snarled it again, "Deactivate database!"

There it was...that heart stopping length of time where Carson didn't breathe, didn't move and then...

"Ow ow! Fucking bloody fuck...." Carson curled up on himself trying to hide from the inevitable cramp. "Jesus... crap...."

"Breathe, breathe... Stretch out..." Oh, fuck, fuck, he hated seeing Carson like that, reached out to press his hands against his stomach and chest to try to straighten Carson out.

"I'm bloody trying to!" Carson protested and tried to flex his muscles to loosen them. "I don't get why this ...this doesn't happen when I'm under.. .bugger... my leg has gone..."

Gradually, gradually, with some gasping and swearing he started to uncurl.

Rodney frowned, and struggled to concentrate hard enough to reach down, rubbing at the spasming muscles. "Just try to relax. Just try to..." Something.

It took a while, but eventually Carson settled to something approaching normal and he exhaled "Well, that's my usual bit of melodrama over with," he said flippantly. "What did that bastard do to you this time?"

"Usual." Rodney leaned over Carson, and he was going to ignore that his body hurt because paying attention to that was as bad as giving words to it. "I'm not going back to the facility tomorrow."

"No?" Carson asked studying him that way than meant he was looking for signs of pain, or hurt.

Which was fine. It was great that Carson, well, Carson paid attention, but it wasn't as if it had been one of his worse encounters. His fingers were sore and his ass hurt, but Kolya had used oil on him and, and. It had been worse. "No. I..." He thought, he thought that something had seemed wrong about Kolya, something that made him pause, and that sequence, it hadn't been complete. It hadn't--

Rodney sat up, snapping his fingers. "He -- dammit, how could I have missed that? Carson, can you sit up? We have to eat. Now."

"We have food?" Carson pushed himself up stiffly. "What? What did you miss?" It often took him a little while to come up to full speed.

Which Rodney understood. It took him a while to come up to full speed, but he reached for the bread, and broke the hunk in half. "We're getting out of here. He didn't activate the, the damper, we can get out of here -- here, take that. He's transporting the bombs somewhere tomorrow. There's a, a Queen-Hive ship and they're going to try to take it out..."

"Wait... what? He's... there's no damper?" No damper meant no restraint on Rodney's psychokinetic abilities, which meant he could unlock the door, no matter what. "Queen-Hive ship? They were asking about Queen-Hives. The answers were bloody terrifying. Is that what is going on?"

"That's what's going on," Rodney confirmed. "It must be culling its way here. We need to eat, take the food we can't with us, and, and make a run for it." Hide. They needed to get out and hide, and he started to shove bread in his mouth while he reached pulled back to kneel down in front of the door.

"That sounds like a plan," Carson replied, taking something with shaky hands to eat. "If a Queen-Hive is on its way here, they don't stand a chance. That's what finished the Ancients in Pegasus. The Wraith started cooperating instead of competing and when Queens join together, they are impossible to beat. They can use their compulsion abilities to render whole armies under their will. It's frankly terrifying."

"Great. Great. Just. Just be quiet and eat and is there anything in here we can take with us? They have to know it's bad, because Kolya, I think he was apologizing or trying to. He said we should have joined forces and yeah, that was obvious to us from the start, but..." But. He was reaching out with his mind at the lock, and yes, yes, it was there.

"I'll get some things," Carson said moving unsteadily. They weren't guarded outside, not tonight. Koyla had been telling the truth then -- every able bodied man was needed.

Behind him, Carson was rolling up their scant blankets, grabbing the meager medical supplies they had been left with to ensure they didn't get infection from things that happened to them. Somehow he was improvising a sack and even unsteady on his feet he was moving fast while Rodney worked on the lock. Nearly had it, nearly...

Nearly, and it was just a stupid tumbler lock, but there was no interior access and they'd put the damper up as soon as they'd realized what Rodney could do. It was stupidly easy now that he was allowed to do it, and he felt the tumblers fall into place.

"You got it? I've got stuff wrapped up. Now....you think they'll have many guards?" Carson asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"He's letting us go, Carson. He's not stupid -- he'll have them posted elsewhere tonight if they're no, not on their way to get blown up." Or at least, that was what he was trying to say, but everything was so so fast and blurred together while he stood up, looking to see if there was anything he could grab.

"Koyla? Koyla the bastard who fucks you whenever he's here?" Carson asked incredulously somehow adept at reading between the fast gaps in words. He helped him up, only just in control of standing up himself. "You're saying he's letting us go?"

"Yes. He didn't turn on the buffer. It wasn't a stupid mistake, Carson, he's been doing it long enough -- look, let's discuss it when we're out of here and find somewhere to hide." Somewhere that they wouldn't end up being culled, and if Atlantis was gone, but fuck, he didn't want to tell Carson that.

Carson was frowning "All right I got 'didn't buffer mistake out hide' that time. I think you are telling me it wasn't a mistake about the buffer and we can get out and hide. That sounds like a damn fine plan to me. Let's get out of here and then...well, hide and get to the Stargate wherever the hell that is."

And somewhere. Somewhere not-there, even if Atlantis -- and they'd have to try. They'd have to try it, and he didn't have to tell Carson just then, because Rodney slid his fingers in along the edge of the door, and was pulling it open carefully.

"Let's go."

And they were running... not that fast, truth be told, and this facility was underground, and they ducked and hid, but there were Genii frantically loading things, moving things, bombs lined up, lights blazing away from them so no one noticed they were escaping. It didn't make the run up the tunnels to the surface any easier. Carson was still stiff and sore and he was trying to look over his shoulder and run forward at the same time and he slipped, going down onto his knee and hand.

And Carson was there, hand helping him up whispering "Jesus, Rodney are you all right?"

And...

Rodney sucked in a sharp breath. He could feel Carson's hands on him and they'd both dropped their lanterns, but where was the satchel, and if they'd dropped their lights then the guards would be right there, right behind them, because they'd hear it and they needed to get out of there more than they needed to see if he was okay, because he was fucking okay, really, just...

"Rodney, it's all right, you're not there..." Carson was whispering almost frantically in his ear.

"Are you okay back there?" the guide called back. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, no... he just took a wee tumble," Carson called back. "Nothing serious." The worried look in his eyes was visible though, in the dim light.

He had to breathe, deep breaths, but Carson's hands were on him, holding onto his shoulders and Rodney started to stand up before he was completely sure of what he was doing. "Just fine." And so what if his voice shook?

"Rodney? Are you okay?" Jeannie was there, concerned.

"He's okay, Jeannie, just a little wobbly on his pins," Carson replied as the guide launched into the next bit of the tour. "Not got all his strength back yet."

Wobbly on his pins. The things that came out of Carson's mouth with a straight face usually made Rodney smirk or laugh, but he just leaned against Carson, and tried to not look Jeannie in the eye. He wasn't going to think, wasn't going to think, wasn't. He wasn't going to think about caves or Kolya, or hive ships or Wraith, he wasn't, even if they were in a god-damned cave. "Could you, uh, hand me the lantern?"

"Oh, sure... here," Madison said passing it up. "Oops, we're getting left behind."

"You go on, we'll catch up," Carson said shoo-ing at them a little until they went ahead a little. "Flashback?" he asked in a bare murmur.

"Complete with deja v˙," Rodney mumbled back. He slid his arm around Carson's waist, keeping close to him. "Sorry."

"It's okay. You're not the only one," Carson confided. "I never knew caves would be such a trigger."

"Great. We spent enough time in them, didn't we? Here, let's just, just keep walking. It'll take longer to turn around than it will to just finish it." His voice was shaking still, but it didn't matter. He was going to keep his arm around Carson's waist, and after the caves they were going out to a steakhouse for dinner. Steak and cake, and Rodney was focusing forwards to that, to the dinner reservation and the museum trip in between.

And if Caleb shot him one more dirty look, Rodney was going to start imitating Nathan Lane. If holding hands bothered him, maybe he'd crawl out of his skin when Rodney turned it up a few hundred notches.

He could probably arrange to kiss Carson with serious intent in the restaurant if he carried on like that.

"Aye... that we did. I was thinking about the night we, when they came," Carson replied and from the way he was not being that careful with what he was saying, he was drifting.

They'd run out of food, so eventually they'd had to go out in the open. Carson knew that. Knew that the coruscating white atomic blasts high out in the atmosphere weren't going to stop the Wraith as they bore down on the Genii.

They were scratched and bloody from hiding from the token force sent after them, every bloody muscle ached and between them, they'd had to take out one pair of Genii soldiers. As he looked at the visible Wraith ships massing over the planet, he was actually thanking god the Genii had been questioning him about Queen-Hives because it meant when they went over the two guards, he didn't just take their supplies, he bothered to take their version of handcuffs as well.

They made it some way over the mountainous countryside heading vaguely towards where Rodney had calculated the Stargate to be located before he looked at the patterning of the Wraith ships in the sky and an Ancient memory from that recall session told him the Queen-Hive was finally present. Much to Rodney's amazement he literally dragged him off towards the nearest cave he could find and started rummaging frantically in one of the packs he had taken off the soldiers.

"What, what, is there wraith repellant in there?" Rodney demanded, but he didn't struggle. He just kept looking back over his shoulder, back towards the mouth of the cave as Carson dragged them on.

"Are there any... anything to tie ourselves to?" he asked as he found what he was looking for. Field issue painkillers, also know back on earth as opiates. They would do. "Hurry, Rodney, we don't have much time...."

And if he was wrong about this, they would both die.

He just hoped they could resist it, and if he drugged Rodney heavily enough, then his subconscious wouldn't pick the locks. "Time for what? Tie ourselves to? We've got uh, shit, stalagmites? But why do we need to tie ourselves to it?"

"Remember what I said about the Hive Queens forming a Queen-Hive? That their compulsion abilities magnify exponentially? The Ancients theorized that they only ever formed a Queen-Hive when the species was under threat and breeding queens needed access to high numbers of food to prepare for an emergency population increase. Somebody somewhere has been killing Queens, and this is the Wraiths' master weapon!" He fished out the manacles. "And like most of their weapons it is something based in their biology. A Queen-Hive can link together, exponentially increasing their abilities, channel it through the superstructure of their organic spaceships like a bloody enormous loudspeaker. Very shortly, they are going to be making the Pied Piper look like a rank amateur. Genii all over the planet will leave their bunkers and walk happily to the nearest Wraith beam and step in! Do you understand now?"

"Oh shit." Rodney grabbed for the manacles and looked for the sturdiest stalagmite, backing himself up to it. "Oh, wit -- drugs, are those drugs? Should I take those first?"

"You have to take the drugs because otherwise you might be unlocking us both," Carson said. He offered a pill to Rodney. "Take this now, sit and I'll fix you up."

Carson could see Rodney chewing on his tongue, gathering spit so he didn't gag it up because he had a hell of a gag reflex now and Carson was sure he hadn't had it before. Then he reached for the pill and took it and swallowed it, sitting down. "Hurry. I don't want to walk myself back into their control, because once in my life was enough, thanks. I kind of hope that Kolya and Sora and that, that twerpy one, blew themselves up before this."

He took his arms, his hands and locked them securely behind the stalagmite even as they could hear the roaring scream of Wraith darts outside somewhere. His fingers wouldn't work quick enough, he was trying to get the manacle on one wrist but it was hard and then there was ....

An itch in his head, unbearable and he turned, staring out towards the entrance.

"Carson!" Rodney jerked forwards, Carson could hear him, and cussing.'"Fuck fuck -- Carson, 20386 -- prime or not prime?"

And there it was, the rush as the database unfolded drowning out anything else in his head. He froze in the middle of making a step and fell even as he was answering "Not prime."

The Carson part of himself could feel the compulsion, could feel it sweeping over them all, but it meant nothing and for one in his life since he got this damn thing stuck in his head he was grateful to it.

"God, oh, fuck, thank god, because I did not want you walking yourself towards them and I swear that as soon as it's over, I'll get out of these cuffs and I'll turn it off, and I'm sorry, Carson, but I had to. We make it through this and I'll, I'll make it up to you..."

He wanted to say it was fine, and it was a shame because if maybe they hadn't treated him like a bloody computer, he might've actually been able to research the fact that he had been right and opiates did seem to be blocking the peripheral effects of the Queen-Hive's compulsion because Rodney couldn't be feeling the itch in his head like he was.

But none of those things was a question so he couldn't move, couldn't speak and the itch was a burn in his head.

He could hear the beams and the ships, and it seemed like it was never going to end. And even when it did end, fear kept Rodney paralyzed and he didn't turn him off until probably long after the Genii had been entombed and turned into food.

"I'll make it up to you when we get home," Rodney was whispering to him as they walked, bringing up the rear of the tour.

"It's fine, Rodney," he reassured him. "It's not like we didn't make it out alive." Heads bloodied but unbowed, as his father used to quote at him. "And we made it ...home."

Home meant Dagan. Home meant after that rough time in the cave, getting out and stepping out onto an empty world. They had no problems after that about being chased. There was no one left to chase them.

They ate from houses where the evening meal lay half prepared and abandoned. Where even cribs lay empty as mothers had picked them up to step as a whole family to their doom. He remembered that long lonely trek to the Stargate. Stealing vehicles, making them work where they could. Even so it had taken them over a week to get there and when they dialed Atlantis, they found it was true. The gate wasn't there anymore. No lies, no trickery just the plain fact.

That had nearly broken the two of them, the last survivors on that empty world.

They'd tried others. They'd tried other planets, others where the villages were empty and they just knew that they could traverse the whole of the planet and find nothing but bare homes and rotting food and fires when equipment and nature had mixed with no human hands to put out the fires.

Dagan simply hadn't been on a flight path. Dagan hadn't been on the way to Atlantis and neither had Hoff, and a few other big populations. Manara, the Besquins. But thousands and thousands had been culled like that, and...

Rodney murmured 'shhh', and his hand rubbed at Carson's waist. He probably wasn't sure what was going to come out of Carson's mouth next, and that was the shoe being on the other foot.

"Sorry," he murmured aloud. It was not something he could shake easily, especially when he was sure... sure he could've helped. It was a simple thing but perhaps populations could've been saved with that final insight, with one wee pill like Rodney had taken and they could've resisted long enough.

He couldn't stop thinking about that. That if they had been with their team, maybe it would've helped, would've found a way.

By the time they returned to Dagan, the news had been there. It was over. It was all over except for the battles still in their heads.

Which, well, they were two years and change past and they were still as good as there, couldn't even quite go down into a cave with Rodney's family and ooo and ahhh over the formations properly. It was awe inspiring, Carson supposed, if you'd lived a quiet life.

For someone who had seen the wonders on a couple of dozen worlds, who had lived in the greatest wonder of them all, the Cave of the Winds was just not that spectacular. But for Rodney, Jeannie and Madison he could fake the enjoyment, fake that he was fine because if it was the way to pay for having Rodney he'd go into every cave on Earth.

He just hoped that one cave would be enough.

Waking up with Rodney was always going to be one of Carson's favorite things, especially if Zed decided to curl up on the pillow near him. Five months down the line and it had been five months of pure contentment. They were together, Rodney was in remission, every day was bright and precious, and they loved each other to distraction. They'd survived Rodney's family's visitóalthough there had nearly been a duel over the mini-golf game between Rodney and Caleb, but that made him smile nonetheless.

Sometime today, they were expecting the Daedalus back in, and that was a good thought to contemplate. Maybe Elizabeth had found Zelenka; it would just make Rodney's year to have someone who understood him, who would argue and poke fun at him.

Carson liked waking up like this, arms wrapped around a sleeping Rodney, able to watch him while he dozed. Rodney needed his sleep. He'd been throwing himself into his research, which meant he wasn't getting enough rest. The first trial of recharging ZPMs had been a success, but he hadn't been satisfied. It was only a small charge, he'd insisted, a little more than a souped-up naquadah generator's worth of power, but it interfaced with ancient systems. Still, Rodney had pinned his hopes on it actually recharging ZPMs to full power, and he couldn't find the flaw in his theory that had created such a small bubble of subspace in the ZPM.

Carson was only going to allow Rodney so many 2 a.m. nights in a row. Genius, as he often said, worked better on a good night's sleep, and he was certainly more pleasant at the breakfast tableóeven if he still did that finger-clicking thing to get him to bring over the milk.

He smiled to himself and stroked at the last of Rodney's stray curls. They were growing out now, but they had been fun while they lasted. Carson gave Rodney the lightest of kisses on the chest even as he shifted to move the arm trapped under Rodney's sleeping form. He didn't want to wake him, and he hoped Rodney's armpit wasn't ticklish, becauseó

He froze suddenly, his mouth suddenly dry. What was that against his fingertips? Something large and ... lump-like, like a small hen's egg.

In that one moment everything crumbled and fell apart on Carson. His entire world disintegrated and he stayed there, touching that point and staring into space.

Rodney gave a sleepy mumble in his arms, and yawned, smacking his lips. That set Zed off into a sleepy stretch before reconsidering and curling back up on herself. Carson usually would have smiled, but he wanted to palpate the point, to feel it, even though he knew what it meant.

It meant that five months of remission were over. It meant that the cancer was in his lymphatic system; a lymphoma or maybe something different from the leukemia. Whatever it was, it was in the lymph ... and they wouldn't be able to stop it.

They were talking about only a few months at mostó

That thought nearly broke him. His throat was as tight as if someone had gripped it and tried to throttle the life from him. It wasn't fair! After saving the bloody worldóworld, worlds ... whatever. After everything, this was what happened? It wasn't fair! They were happy. They'd been so damn happy. They'd survived all of that shit, the both of them. Now they were on Earth and they were happy, and it just wasn't fair. If Carson lost Rodney, if heó

Carson couldn't think any further. He missed the Pegasus Galaxy. There, if he wanted to try something that could potentially work, or potentially kill Rodney, no one would have stopped him.

Here, though ... here, there were rules and procedures, and Rodney was going to die because of them. He hadn't said anything about the lump to Carson, probably hadn't thought anything about it. Now he was going to die soon, and he didn't even know it.

Rodney stretched a little, and moved his arm.

How could Carson tell him?

He couldn't. Not because he was a cowardóthough Carson would admit that if it would make this go awayóbut because Rodney would tell him he was being melodramatic, that he was just panicked or stressed or worrying too much. No, he ... he would just have to phone and get Rodney an appointment for a check-up today and then remind him as if it were a normal appointment. And ... and go with him. Yes, he would offer to go with him so he could be there. Fuck work. Fuck everything.

He was just a database to the people at the SGC, so fuck them. They could live without him for a day. He had. God, Rodney was so much more important to him than all of that! Carson could be a database any time, he could be a doctor with or without Rodney, but he needed him. He wantedóno, needed to make Rodney better, needed to fix things.

"Mmmhmm, hi."

"Hi." Carson's voice sounded rough even to himself. Just for a moment, a split second, he wished that he wasn't a doctor, that he didn't know, that he could pretend just a little while longer that this hadn't happened. "I ... I was thinking of going down the road to get breakfast bagels and some of that coffee you like. You want that?"

He sounded so normal. How the hell did that work?

"Sure. It won't make you late to the base, will it?" Rodney scrunched his face up sleepily, then yawned again as he glanced at the clock. Time was always a factor in the back of Rodney's mind, probably an artifact of having deadlines and due dates for so much of his life.

"Oh, God, I love Fridaysóespecially Fridays when I don't have to work!" Although Rodney worked two days a week teaching remedial summer classes to kids who hated him as much as he hated them, Friday wasn't one of them. It was Rodney's sleep-in-then-harass-the-people-at-the-SGC-about-ZPMs day.

"No ... no, I'm not going in. I thought you might want company for your appointment today." Carson was proud his voice wasn't shaking. He got up then, and pulled on some pants. He needed to get out of the room, out of the house. He had to try and work it out so he could be strong for Rodney.

"Appointment?" Rodney rubbed his face and rolled over onto his stomach, taking over the warm spot Carson had left behind. "Okay, okay. Getting up, then. Right, yes. I'm getting up."

"You stay there. I'll get breakfast and maybe phone up the hospital, check when it is." Well, browbeat them into an emergency appointment, even if it killed him. He knew what would happen. They'd go to the hospital, the doctors would take one look at that lump, and that would be it. They'd take blood, they'd order an emergency scan series, and then they ... they would take him in, sit him down, and give him their best guess on how much longer he had to live. Once the cancer was in the lymph system, it was everywhere, neatly parceled up and spread around the body.

Metastasized cancer. Hopefully it hadn't crossed the barrier between spine and body, because if there was even a hint of anything in his brain, Rodney would demand to be killed before he lost any of his mental facilities. He didn't want to die that way, didn't want to die in any way where people would remember him as babbling and stupid and insensate. Carson could practically hear the words in his mind as he left the bedroom, leaving Rodney and Zed behind to sleep in ignorant bliss for a few more hours.

Carson made it outside. He made it to the car. He made it a hundred yards down the road before he broke. In seconds, his eyes were so blurred with tears that he couldn't see the road. He pulled over, leaned his forehead on the steering wheel, and cried. Fuck it if it wasn't manly or stoic. Neither was what was happening to Rodney. And right now ... right now he was crying for himself as well, knowing he wouldn't be able to give in to tears later.

He was going to be alone and he couldn't do that. He couldn't be alone. The others couldn't understand; they weren't fixed and whole again. Carson and Rodney had fixed themselves by using each other to patch up the missing pieces. If he lost Rodney, there might not be enough of the original Carson left to survive without him. It only seemed like there might be. People at work were quietly apologetic or solicitous, but they didn't quite understand how important it was that Rodney not die, that he have a chance to grow old and cranky with Carson. Together they could do it. They could function and they could go on, but separately, Rodney fell apart. Rodney had confessed more often than he'd said "I love you", that if Carson weren't there, he couldn't go on, that his interest in keeping Carson had been entirely un-altruistic.

It cut both ways, of course. When Rodney died, there wouldn't be anything left for Carson. His mother was still alive, aye, but his mother didn't hold all of his strings together. She didn't make him go on when he didn't want to, and she most certainly didn't keep his bed warm or eat all the peanut butter and say nothing so they ran out or lavish attention on him until he didn't think he could stand it anymore but did anyway because it was lovely.

Why couldn't he be the sort of genius Rodney was? Why couldn't he pull a solution out of thin air? He'd been trying and trying, but every tactic he thought of had the inherent problem of death being a likely side effect.

Why couldn't he stop crying? Why did stupid things like having to tell Jeannie, Madison, and Caleb just bring a fresh wave of grief? Why was it that the image of having to pick up a phone and tell them it was over completely destroyed him?

He had told people before. He'd sat with them and watched them die, and he wasn't ashamed to say he'd cried at more than one patient's bedside. There was nothing wrong with that. It's a sign of a good doctor, a caring doctor; the sign of a doctor who moved on and continued working. This was different, though. This was too close to his heart, so close he felt as afraid as if it were his own death he faced.

It had been hard enough to get up and go on every day while Rodney had just been in the hospital. Between being worried and feeling detached, losing his tether to reality, the memories had been more there, more in the forefront of his mind. It was harder to sleep, harder to get up in the morning. He'd spent those weeks missing the things Rodney did, good and bad. God, what if every day was like that, with no opportunity to visit Rodney in the hospital at the end of the day? Carson would have to tell Jeannie, unless Rodney insisted on doing it himself. And maybe he would. Maybeó

Maybe he should just get over himself and start thinking about Rodney. Maybe he was wrong; it could happen. Maybe the oncologist would say it was a cyst, a benign lump, something not terminal.

Yes, and maybe six other impossible things would come true before breakfast, as well.

Carson wiped the tears from his eyes and called the hospital. It always astounded him how forceful, how downright threatening he could be when it came to Rodney. He didn't care how rude he was, as long as it got him the appointment Rodney needed. He'd just have to hold it together a few more hours until then.

If he could just stop bloody well crying.

He'd get the bagels all soggy if he didn't, and Rodney would know just from his face that there was something wrong. If he could just hold on a few more hours... Maybe he could convince Rodney to sit on the sofa and watch a movie with him, leave the research alone for a few hours. He never got his eureka moments when he was stuck and hammering away at it, anyway. A few more hours and he'd be ready to be the positive, sensible one, never letting go of optimism. He'd be strong as a rock, as strong as Rodney needed him to be. Whatever Rodney needed, he would get. If it meant giving up his work, then Carson would do it. If it meant letting them trawl through his brain for days on end, he'd do that, too.

He wiped at his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and drove on. There was nothing else he could do.

He should have said something. He knew he should have said something before they got that far, before Carson keyed open the front door, but Rodney couldn't quite find words.

He was going to die.

It hadn't been so bad when it was a vague few months ago. Back then it was a sure thing, but he had time. He had time. His doctor had said that it would be all downhill from there, and that if he made it to the end of the summer, well. His tone of voice implied that Rodney should give thanks if that happened. It wasn't fucking fair.

He was so close, and now he wasn't sure if there would be time. He was going to have to leave Carson just as things were going great. After they'd finished the emergency scan, he'd asked if they could do another transplant. The look on Carson and his doctor's faces told him there wasn't a chance in hell any treatment was going to work. Carson looked like it was the end of the world, but he hadn't said anything either.

"I think I need a cup of tea. Or a coffee. Can I get you something?"

"Whiskey?" But Carson would get him coffee. Rodney wandered aimlessly into the front room, away from Carson. Zed was sitting on the dining table; she was easy to pick up and hold tight. Zed purred at him and settled in his arms. He could hear small sounds from the kitchen that weren't quite being covered up by Carson's rather obvious clattering.

He'd hoped that something would work, but now he would to have to tell Jeannie it wasn't something that was going away. It had been a faint hope at best; things never worked that way for him. And Carson ... Carson wasn't God, it just seemed like it sometimes. When he could turn a man from an insect back into a man, anything was possibleóexcept when it wasn't. Rodney knew that no matter what Carson thought of his own abilities, the fact was that if anything could've been done, he'd have done it before the transplant. Sometimes there's just nothing for it. Rodney turned his head, pressed his face against Zed's short fur, then wandered towards the sofa. He was going to die, and there wasn't even anyone he could leave his research to and trust that they'd make use of it.

Rodney sat there and stared into space for a while until Carson reentered the room. He came over to the sofa and sat down right next to Rodney, putting his arm around him.

"I'm so sorry, Rodney," he said eventually. "I...there may be other ways, other things we can look at..."

"What?" Rodney's voice pulled in his throat, and he realized he probably sounded like a frog. He leaned into Carson, and let Zed slip down to his lap.

"If...if you can charge a ZPM, maybe we can use one of the Antarctica base stasis chambers," Carson said with more than a hint of desperation in his voice. "And I know you've said "no" before, but maybe we could ask Colonel Carter about getting hold of her father and asking for contact with the Tok'ra."

"I don't want a symbiote, Carson." Rodney felt Carson pressing a cup of coffee into his fingers, and he barely held onto it. "Ióeven if we could, I mean, if I got a stasis chamber working, they'd have someone else who needs it more. Doctor Jackson's...dog would need it more than I do, and that's fine. It's just, that's been my luck in everything that has to do with the SGC, so I don't know why you'd think it'd be different now. I was their big joke, Carson. Bring Doctor McKay in, we need to make Colonel Carter look good! So even if I could get one to charge properly, it would never happen; they'd have better things to do with it. I'm just not worth it to them."

"Rodney, no. Don't you understand how important you are?" Carson twisted to look at him.

And maybe he was to Carson. Maybe he had been important once to someone, but not at the SGC. Not to someone who made decisions on who should use what. Sometimes Carson could be naive about these things. Maybe it wouldn't be Jackson's dog, but if they had something that could save the life of a president, they wouldn't want it occupied and out of commission, and they sure as hell wouldn't give it up for the guy who was capable of making it work in the first place. "Maybe to a very small group of people, Carson. I mean, look at how they treat youóand you discovered the ATA gene!"

"In the grand scheme of things, it's not that much," replied Carson. "There are a lot more talented people out there working on things, but there is only one you. You know more about Ancient Technology than practically anyone. If there is someone they need, it's you."

Except they didn't. They were gone for two years and had been back for a year. Since getting back, not once had anyone come asking for him to look at this or that. Not once, so they couldn't have needed him that badly. Theyó. Rodney shook his head and lifted the coffee mug unsteadily. Zed gave an unhappy noise, and Rodney decided not to think about how she was probably drinking his coffee or sticking her feet in it. "I...I thought it was going all right."

Carson nodded miserably. "Aye...aye, well, it was. Sometimes when the cancer is very aggressive, it can manifest in another form like this. There has to be an answer, there must be! I can't lose you! I just...I can't."

"It's not like I want to die," Rodney muttered. There was cat hair in his coffee, and Zed was sucking at one of her paws. He took a sip of it anyway. "Goddammit! This isn'tóthis wasn't how it was supposed to go."

"No. You and I are meant to be here, meant to grow old gracelessly together," Carson replied, leaning in to kiss him softly. "I'll find something. I'll try anything. I'm not giving up, Rodney. I'm never giving up."

The soft kiss was what pulled him apart, more than the tests and the nervous looks everyone had been giving him. He knew that there were five stages of mourning and that anger was probably one of them, but he really had a right to be angry. They'd survived everything, and it just...it just. Rodney didn't remember setting the coffee cup down. He didn't. But he remembered hitting Carson in the stomach, hitting out hard and twisting against him, hiding his face against his shoulder. "Fuck, fuck!"

Whether Carson didn't say anything because he winded him or he couldn't, his arms were there, just as they had been all those nights before he became accustomed to the things the Genii did to them both.

"Let it go. Let it go, Rodney, it's not fair...it's..." Carson's voice was cracking and there was nothing he could do to get out of this.

It was over, winding down. Rodney wished he had more time. He deserved at least as much time with Carson as he'd spent without him, and that hope had gone with his vague plans of growing old and crotchety with Carson. He choked and held on tight to him. "This shouldn't be happening!"

"No, it shouldn't," Carson agreed. There were no trite words, no promises that he wouldn't die, only promises that Carson would try his best, because they both knew that, sometimes, it didn't work. Sometimes a rescue didn't come; sometimes there wasn't a cure. Sometimes unfair, bad things happened to good people. They knew it because they had seen it over and over. Lived it for far too long and, in the end, sometimes the plans didn't work. Sometimes everything went to hell and nobody was there to stop it happening again. Sometimes the planet exploded.

He whimpered against Carson's throat and when his muscles jerked again, Carson clutched tight at him. He wouldn't let him hurt either of them with another angry motion. "Goddammit. I...I don't want to die!"

"I don't want you to die either," Carson said in a rough voice . There was a time when he would've been amazed to think someone could feel that way about him. "I promise you that I'm here with you, all the way. You want me to leave work, I'll leave. Anything."

Leave work? Rodney tried to protest, but his voice broke a little and he had to concentrate on breathing before he could talk again. "No, no, you can't; it's not like I'm going to get better. Besides, what would you do?"

"I would spend every moment I could with you," Carson said simply, as if that was reason enough to give up a career, a future.

"I wish you hadn't said that. Because you mean it, and you, goddammit! You deserve better than this. I deserve for this not to happen. You shouldn't..." Rodney squeezed his eyes closed, and forced himself to take a slow breath. No thinking, just words. "I'll take a sabbatical at the university. Just in case...in case, you know, in case I can somehow..."

"In case you can charge a full ZPM and charge up a stasis pod?" Carson finished for him. It was a slim hope, but it was a hope nonetheless. Time was suddenly precious to him and he needed to work on the problem once he was done with the urge to hit things and people, make the Wraith go back, and try gnawing on the bones of any Genii who survived the attack.

"Yeah. And, let's be honest, it's boring to watch me work. And if you're here all day, I'll be distracted and I won't want to work. I'll just want to... to" Do what he was doing just then, hold onto Carson and hide, as if that had ever solved anything, except to make him feel better.

"Even so, you want to do things and go places." Carson was trying to offer him anything that might help, and Rodney appreciated that. He also appreciated how Carson was going to make love to him softly and gently enough that his heart break would with the intensity of it all, and he'd do it every damn, fucking night until he couldn't do it anymore.

Which was fine, really, except that Rodney didn't want to think about it. He didn't answer just then, but pressed his nose against Carson's neck and gave a choked laugh instead. "I don't know. I need to think. We should...we really should...I mean, if there's anything you want to do together, Carson, we should."

His voice faded as Carson's pager started beeping insistently, a sound that Carson blatantly ignored as he kissed Rodney again, gently stroking his back and murmuring that there was no hurry, that he didn't have to decide anything immediately; he could just take his time. Carson would phone Jeannie if that's what Rodney wanted. He wouldn't have to do any of the telling if he didn't want; Carson would be there standing between him and the world, protecting him.

"No, I... I need to tell her. God, she'd drive down here and kill me herself if I didn't call her myself." Rodney pulled back a little, shuddering and rubbing at his face. The beeper was still going off. "I... Do you need to get that?"

"I don't want to," Carson replied, but he reached for the pager, looked at it and then at Rodney. "Medical emergency at the SGC. I...I won't go. You need me here."

"No, I need to call Jeannie. If I don't do it today, I'll put it off and keep putting it off." Rodney leaned in and took another kiss, letting his hands travel down Carson's chest. He really hoped he hadn't hit Carson too hard. "You should go. It's okay. I'm, I need to calm down and think."

"Are you sure?" Carson looked reluctant, but Rodney knew that if they were paging Carson, it was something major. He knew that Carson knew it, too, and he appreciated Carson's instinct to tell the world to go fuck itself for his sake. But that wasn't who Carson was and he didn't want to make him choose.

"Yeah, I'll just call Jeannie , then me and Zed are probably going to... Look, go take care of that," Rodney insisted, his voice still shaking, "and tomorrow, well, I'm not letting you get out of bed, okay? And I'm going to hold you to it."

"All right," Carson drew back, looking so incredibly sad it hurt to look into his eyes. "I'll be as quick as I can. I love you, Rodney. I'm...I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Maybe Carson needed to be told that, and maybe Rodney needed to say it aloud. It amounted to the same thing. He leaned forward and reached for his coffee. "Have good luck, okay?"

Carson touched him gently as he got his keys out and prepared to leave. "I will. I'll be as quick as I can. Call if you need me, if you need anything."

"Sure. That needing you part of things, I can stave it off until you get back." He tried to smile, but Zed was crawling back onto his lap, and he wanted to crush her with hugs.

"I mean it," Carson said quietly as he went to the front door, looking over his shoulder at Rodney. He finally left like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Maybe it was, but if Carson gave up medicine, there really would be nothing left for him.

He had Rodney and his work, just like Rodney had Carson and his own work. If you took one of them out of the equation... Rodney stared at the front door for a moment, then started to pet Zed. He needed to steel himself before he called Jeannie, needed to focus.

The kitten settled down, kneading a little at his stomach with her paws, just staying there comfortable and companionable. Suddenly it seemed incredibly shocking that he could imagine a day Zed wouldn't have him to sit on, to bully into giving her treats, to play with her.

"You're going to have to start sucking up to Carson real soon," he whispered, fingers stroking the fur just behind her ears. "And treat him good, okay? He'll need someone to show him affection after bad days at work, and after..." Him. After he died.

She twitched her ear a little and looked up at him with a cat's typical 'Don't be stupid' stare, as though he had degenerated into crazy talk. She mock-bit at his fingers and flicked her tail, which was code for not having any intention of doing what he asked because it wouldn't be necessary.

Rodney patted her head a little heavily and decided that he really was losing his mind, and that was just fine.

"C'mon. You get to stand on the kitchen counter while I call my sister."

Zed was not impressed by being moved and even less so by being put on the kitchen counter, where she prowled up and down until Rodney scattered a couple of treats in front of her, then picked up the phone.

He didn't want to do this.

Didn't want to, except he knew that if he procrastinated, it wouldn't get any easier. Jeannie would ask when he'd found out and he'd tell her, and then she'd demand to know why she hadn't been called immediately, and ... and ... and. Rodney glanced down at the phone and carefully dialed the numbers, hoping he wouldn't get her answering machine.

He was lucky, or unlucky, that she answered after a few rings and that she had caller ID. "Hi, Rodney," she said absently. "Phoning to apologize for that crack you made about the gravity field equations, huh?"

"No. I still think, what I... what I typed." It had been a pretty off-color joke about skull-fucking. Actually, if he thought about it, he very possibly did need to apologize, but he couldn't quite pull together the words. Anyway, Jeannie had insinuated that he had a small penis because of some theory of his that had turned out to be right, and that was just ... that was just good, malicious arguing. She took as well as she gave. "No, I uh, Carson took me to an appointment today."

There was a pause. "An appointment?" Jeannie started to sound a little worried. "I thought you weren't due for a check up until a week Friday?"

Now he came to think about it, that was probably true. Rodney didn't particularly remember having an appointment, and that wasn't exactly out of the ordinary. He forgot things. It happened. It was normal. "Are you sure? Because Carson woke me up this morning, and I definitely just came back from an appointment."

"You told me when you came back from the last one, and I wrote it in the diary so I could phone and see how you are," Jeannie said "But that's not the point. What happened? Are you okay?"

No, it wasn't the point, but it was something to chew on, even if Rodney didn't know what to think just then. "I ... no, I'm not okay, Jeannie. It's, uh, it's spread into my lymphatic system. So I thought I should call you."

There was a long silence and then a shuddering breath. "How? How?! We killed it. You're in remission and you spend your time making mad, passionate love to Carson. How?"

"I guess it didn't like being in remission. I didn't pay much attention while he was explaining it. I just - I asked, but I know there isn't anything else we can really do. I..." Zed was bumping against his wrist, and when he tipped his hand up, she started to chew on his fingertips. "I'm sorry. It, you bought me time."

"We'll do it again. We can do it again. There has to be a way to do it," Jeannie protested. "Give me a couple of days to sort things out, and I can be there. We can do it again."

No, they couldn't. They couldn't kill all of it without killing him; his doctor had explained that. He could have drugs to slow it, to hold it back as much as possible, but bone marrow wouldn't work again.

"No, Jeannie, they can't. It's not going to work again. They can't kill the cancer without killing me. They can stall it a little, but it's not an option this time. It's ... there aren't any options this time."

More silence and then a rather faint, "How long?" Rodney could imagine Jeannie turning away so others wouldn't hear their conversation or see her trying not to cry.

"A few months. I'm still feeling pretty good. It probably has something to do with the gene therapy." The bone marrow had probably failed for just that reason, too, even if Carson hadn't said it. "So, uh. It's not looking like I'll be able to do Christmas like I promised. Do you want to come for Thanksgiving?"

"Oh my God, Rodney! How can you even ask? Do you want me up there this weekend? Do you need help?" Now he could hear her trying not to cry and not really succeeding. "Thanksgiving is too far. What if ..."

"I don't want to play the what-if game." He turned his hand over and started petting Zed a little more firmly than necessary. "Look, uh, it's Friday. Carson and I are going to take a couple of days to regroup and work out what we're going to do. We'll steal a few weekends to visit you. I'm really feeling good right now, which is why this doesn't make sense."

"Regrouping sounds like a must," Jeannie replied, her voice shaking a little. "I want you to take things easy. I should've known when we came to visit, what with you being so tired all the time. If I'd just done something, maybe..."

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Yeah, life was full of them.

"I wasn't that tired when you came to visit. I thought I was fine, just... Look, there wasn't anything you could have done. You did a lot as it is. I promise." He didn't want to say soothing things, but he had to because Jeannie and Carson didn't deserve for him to take it out on them.

"This just isn't fair, Rodney. I only just got you back! Isn't there anything?" She couldn't ask specifically, but she was reaching out for some hope, any hope at all.

"Maybe one thing, but it's not an option right now without a completed power source." Rodney shrugged his shoulders a little. The biggest drain was activating the systems; maintaining them took relatively little power.

"Still, it's something, right?" Jeannie clung to the straw he tossed to her. "It's something to aim for. Maybe I can help, work on it with you?"

He understood that she wanted to do everything possible so that, at the end of it, she could think she had done her best to save him. A cold comfort, but comfort all the same.

"You'd need more clearance. I'm to the point where I'm using real equipment again, and that's what's proving the theory's not completely correct. But if you could, maybe you could at least continue it..."

"Don't say that!" There were the tears again, through the sharp tone. He knew when they stopped this painful call, Jeannie was going to hang up the phone and cry her eyes out. "I'm not waiting until then to solve a problem. We'll do it now, we'll make it work."

"We can discuss the details in encrypted mails," Rodney murmured quietly. Zed stretched out on the counter, where he was still petting her. "I need to think reasonably, Jeannie. God, I have to rewrite my will. I hadn't even thought of that until now."

The fact she didn't deny the need meant she believed him. "Your friends at the SGC will have a means to get that done as quickly as possible," she commented softly. "If you need help with that..."

"Yeah, well, they're just used to churning out wills and death certificates." Rodney bit his bottom lip. Wasn't that a long list of people? More than a few of them had been his responsibility to protect and lead. "No, I just... I want to leave something for Carson. I hope that doesn't bother you. I mean, I know you're not like that, I just haven't updated my will since before I went, and you were it, because who else was I going to leave things to?"

"God, Rodney, I'd give all of it to Carson if you did that," she replied and it was reassuring. "Except maybe your notes. Because ... because when all's said and done, you might just be occasionally smarter than I am."

He managed to choke out a laugh. "Carson doesn't give a damn about the money. We lived in a shack that didn't have running water until we made it ourselves, and he'd give it all up for a chance to," -- to keep him alive, and that made Rodney want to cry. Goddammit. He wasn't going to fall apart again. "I'm sorry."

"For God's sake, don't apologize for being ill," Jeannie answered. "It isn't your fault. Listen, you'll get a Nobel, okay? I'll make sure of that."

Rodney was still frowning at the phone, but Jeanne couldn't see it. "I'd ... yeah. I'm not going to be around to receive it myself, and I'm just getting into research that might be unclassified."

"You send your notes over. I want what you've got on the ... uh, other problem, as well. I've got some school fundraiser to bake for; I can think about it then. I get some of my best thoughts making cake," Jeannie promised.

Zed decided she had had enough of the lack of attention. She had been walking back and forth, angling for a stroke, and ... nothing. With this in mind, and with a cat's total lack of respect for the emotional intensity of the moment, she decided to try and climb up Rodney to get to his shoulder.

"Sure, I'll, uh, ow, hey, ow! I'm not a stairway to the top of the fridge and you're not a parrot!" He tried to twist inwards and tip Zed back down onto the countertop, but her claws were clinging onto his shirt. "Ow, okay ... Jeannie? I'll send the notes and ow! No, not my hair! I love you, but I'm being climbed by a large kitten and I can't pull her off one-handed."

"I love you, too, little brother. Go see to Zed," she ordered. "And if ... You can talk to me about anything, some things you don't want to tell a partner. Just call or mail, okay?"

"Okay, I will." He tacked on another "bye", and hung up. It was hard not to be half-grateful towards Zed for cutting the call short, before he said something over the phone that he wasn't allowed to say at all.

Zed had clambered to his shoulder and was trying to eat his curly patch of hair, while purring loudly in his ear. Rodney felt like the world had become amazingly surreal on him: He was dying. He only had months to live. Carson loved him, and a cat was eating his hair. It didn't seem real. None of it did.

On the other hand, he guessed it could be worse.

There wasn't a hive ship hovering over the planet, for instance. There wasn't the fear in knowing that a whole planet's population was being culled. He was safe, physically back on Earth, and there were worse ways to die than having forewarning and being able to go peacefully in bed.

It was just his damn luck that he should get everything he wanted; someone who loved him, being back at home, finding out what having a family was like and, yes, having a kitten chewing on his hair before it all got taken away from him.

He'd like to be grateful that he had the chance at all, but all he could feel was stunned amazement and anger that it wasn't fair. If he was lucky, he might be over that before Carson came home.

The odds were astronomically against it.

The sound of the wind in the trees creaked as the spring weather twisted the huts, like ships riding a vast, leafy ocean. Keras always had him brought up here when he was really bad, which was stupid, because he hated the thought of them bundling him in one of the wicker lifts unconscious to lie up here, dazed and fever ill.

But it did stop the young ones constantly bothering him, and the way he could be, he was glad. He must've collapsed with the migraine pain again, or the nausea. What did it matter? His body only worked right for brief moments, he hurt all the time, and was tired more often than not when he was around all of them. Too many people around, too much, and it'd never been right since that final time.

In a way, he had asked for the isolation. The sunlight through leaves flickered over his closed eyelids. He wasn't sure which of his dreams were memories and which were fevered nightmares. There would be the thick broth that made him feel like a useless invalid; his hands usually shook so much afterwards that he couldn't feed himself. He hated that he was living like this, still living like this because, for some reason, he'd never got the hang of dying like everyone else.

If he closed his eyes, he could hear their voices in his dreams and nightmares, and even if they were nightmares, at least they weren't lonely ones...

The thing was, during the past year or so, his body hadn't been working exactly right anyway. So when he first became aware of people talking, he just assumed he'd had another one of his rather painful relapses, that he was neatly bundled up in one of the huts, about to be spoon-fed broth by Keras or that other kid, what's his name? Shasan, who had a rather bizarre hero-worship thing for him.

He was never really sure why, because it wasn't like he could do much except teach them a few tricks, better ways of doing things. The times when he could join the hunting had been few and far between; it made them nervous that he might collapse again.

It wasn't like he made a habit of it. It had only been the once. Well twice, but the second time had been more a trip than a convulsion. Anyway, he knew he was forgetting something and he was pretty sure he wasn't awake, because the voices he was hearing weren't from the planet. In fact, he recognized one of those voices before he could even make out words.

"What do you mean you've had him in a medical coma for the trip back? How in God's name did you manage to justify that piece of medical logic? You might as bloody well be treating a concussion with a few additional taps to the head!"

It was hard to miss that burr, that accent, even if it left him sure he was hallucinating. Carson had been gone for a long time, dead or missing, and he hadn't been able to find him or Rodney. But that was definitely his voice ... maybe.

"His system was badly affected by whatever happened to him and he just wasn't getting what he needed." Someone protested. "He's a lot better now than when Dr. Weir found him. Take a look at the charts."

"That he may be, son, but we don't go around knocking people out just to rehydrate them and balance out their electrolytes."

It certainly sounded like Carson and he did feel quite a bit better. He had been tired for a long time. But it couldn't be real because they mentioned Elizabeth and there wasn't a chance in a million that the Daedalus had made it home. Last he heard, they were limping away, Wraith Cruisers taking potshots at their leisure. He'd like to think that they'd made it, but...

Hmm, maybe not a dream. There was that familiar twinge of headache pain. He didn't usually dream in shades of pain. Memories of it, sure, but not the big, bizarre dreams that unfolded when he slept. And he hadn't dreamed Carson's voice since before the City fell.

John cracked open his eyes, grimacing against the sudden light.

Okay, this definitely wasn't Keras's hut. It wasn't even quarters on Hoff, nor any of the other many hospitals and infirmaries he had ended up in, one way or another. He squinted a little and turned his head, trying to focus. He was obviously on the good drugs, though; he waited a moment, expecting the figure in front of him to fade away like some sort of mirage.

It didn't vanish, not even when he tilted his head. Maybe he'd finally fried away that last, vague bit of sanity he'd been trying to hold on to, because that was definitely Carson. It was Carson, in a collared shirt with a white lab coat thrown over it, no tie. He looked older, but it really was him. The fact that he'd aged made it so much more believable.

"Hey."

He saw Carson turn around, focus on him, and immediately brush past everyone to reach him. "I have to say, when they called me over for a medical emergency, you were the last person I expected to see here, Colonel Sheppard," he said in a soft, achingly familiar tone of voice.

"I'm pretty surprised to find myself here, too," John attempted to say; his throat was very dry and rasping. "Because I'm pretty sure you're ... dead?"

Not sure enough to make it a statement, though. It was more of a hopeful question.

"No, no, I'm not dead. Rodney isn't dead, either. I think you'll find there's been a steady trickle of us coming back home. " There was a pause and John watched Carson's head turn as he called off to someone, "Anders, get some ice chips over here. Your comatose patient shook it off. "

Rodney wasn't dead?

He closed his eyes for a long moment, feeling something unknot that was years old, dating back to an abduction he failed to stop, failed to correct. He'd been sure it had been Kolya, completely sure and then...

And then it all went wrong. He'd heard the Genii homeworld had been culled of all life. After that, a suicide mission had just been a really easy step to take. Not just because of that, God, no, but...

"You and McKay escaped?" he asked. John wanted to believe. He could feel a smile just waiting if he could give in and believe miracles happened.

"Aye. We were being held on the Genii homeworld. We, ah..." Carson's mouth pulled into a flat smile. "It's a very long story, which I'm sure you'll have time to hear when you're more awake. Anders, where are those... ah, good."

John started to focus. This was the SGC. He ached like hell and there was still a feeling of vulnerability and weakness about his body with which he was all too familiar at the moment, but Carson and Rodney were alive. Really alive.

"Doc?" He reached out an arm towards him, just wanting to feel that he was real, to know this was real. That damned medicine of Keras's had him hallucinating all sorts of crazy shit.

"I'm here, Colonel." He grasped John's hand, intercepting it, and his other hand came towards John. "Here, open your mouth. You've been on IV lines since they put you on the Daedalus, and I'm sure it tastes like something died in there."

He was warm and real and he took the ice chip in his mouth and felt it absorb almost immediately into the dried out tissues of his mouth. Just then, he didn't care about how stupid a thing it was or who might come in. He tugged Carson close enough that he could manage an awkward hug. He'd been alone all too long, knowing that no one was coming back because he should've been dead even with his particular ability. Not that he had it any more.

Not any more.

"There, there. Shhh, it's all right, John. You're home again. It's brilliant to see you again, too. We've all missed you. Rodney's going to, well, he's probably going to crash your hospital room when I tell him." Carson hugged him back. He was strong, strong enough to make John's bones feel like they were aching.

"He'll probably shout a lot," John managed. "I'm sorry." He didn't know what he was apologizing for exactly, but he was sure there needed to be an apology. They had been his team, and he didn't leave his team behind. But he had. He had, and the irony was that he had been left behind most of all. Karma kicking his ass big time.

"Don't be. You ... you saved a lot of lives, John. I'm sure Elizabeth will tell you all about Teyla and Ronon, and there's so much to catch you back up on. But you should rest, lad." Carson pulled away carefully, and there was another ice chip being offered at his lips.

He took it and, squinting, tried a little foolishly to push himself up. He was a pretty good patient, but since the fall of Atlantis, he'd become used to ignoring what he considered minor side effects. "I'd like to hear about them," he murmured even as his arm chose to lock into a familiar muscle spasm. "Shit!"

Hey, it wasn't as bad. Nowhere near as bad. Practically nothing.

"Easy." Carson reached for his arm, as if that could stop the spasm. Or maybe he didn't want to and he was just feeling it, glancing at the readings that were beeping around John. "Seems you could use more rest. Does this happen often?"

"Often enough," he murmured. Often enough to know that they wouldn't have him on active duty again. He wouldn't fly again. Hell, he'd be lucky if they would let him drive. "Side effects." He was lucky it wasn't a whole body thing and, really, he didn't care about that. He cared about looking at Carson and actually seeing him alive and well. He cared about knowing Rodney was safe.

Rodney was probably terrorizing the SGC, scaring a lab full of scientists, working merrily away. It was a great thought to hold onto while Carson leaned over him. "Side effects of...?"

"Weapon." Well, in the end it had been. He'd picked up something he shouldn't have and next thing he knew, he'd changed. He could do something he never could before and it seemed like something useful, something wonderful. But he was a warrior, and even a scalpel could be used to kill. "The Queens ..." He shrugged a little and exhaled as the arm unknotted.

"Ah. We were there for the culling. It was ..." Carson's mouth pulled down into a tight frown. "Well, it was preventable, unfortunately. But you stopped it. Elizabeth told us that much."

Wait. He had to think a moment. "Was it Elizabeth who found me? I think I can remember it a little."

Preventable. He knew that Rodney and Carson would have the answers he just couldn't find alone. "It was a kinda all or nothing thing." Like he was going to be able to hide the feeding marks on his chest.

And he really didn't want to think about that.

He didn't want to think about any of it because the planet of the kids had been his home, and Keras has been a slight, understanding comfort. He still hadn't been able to do enough, there or before with the Queen-Hive.

"I understand, John. I believe that it was Elizabeth who found you. Teyla and Ronon united their own refugee groups on a culled planet and were creating a trading center. The Daedalus was needed to contact the planet you were on, and to lift their iris."

"They didn't know I was alive," John excused them both. "I'm glad they have each other."

It had been hard being alone with everyone pairing up and no one really wanting anything permanent with him. He went through a phase of wondering idly if there was some alarming doomsday counter ticking down on his forehead or something. His vision was blurring a little and he lay back. Debriefing was going to be a helluva party.

Carson was offering him another ice chip. "I'll see if I can get someone in here with some real food before you go in for any scans, John. Are you going to be all right?"

"Assuming I'm not dreaming? Everything is more than fine, doc," he replied and meant it. "Tell Rodney I look forward to seeing him soon."

Where they drugging him again? His eyes were closing and he could ... he could relax, finally relax. He wasn't the guy saving worlds more by luck than judgment anymore. He was just one fucked-over and pretty fucked-up soldier whose battlefield had been further away than most.

"I will, John. It's so very good to have you back."

And he was home again.

All this day needed was for the person serving him his pizza to be Major Lorne and for his car to turn into a puddlejumper. The problem was that he knew he should've shown a great deal more enthusiasm that John was back, but that feeling had to contend with the ever-present knowledge that Rodney was dying ... really dying, and then he went to work, and back from the dead was John. Their John.

He was thin and had that look in his face Carson saw in patients who lived with pain on a regular basis. But his hair was still messy, his eyes still dark and bright, and he still filled a room with his personality even when he was in a bloody medical coma.

He toyed with not saying anything to Rodney, but he knew the news would make him happy and, God, he wanted Rodney to have any happiness going. Which lead to the favorite pizza, and a resolve to try and find a way to break the news.

"I'm home, Rodney. I brought pizza," he called out even as he shut the door behind him.

He supposed it was a good sign that Rodney had only pulled the blinds a little. Given free rein, Rodney could turn the place into a cave. Carson couldn't see him immediately, but he could walk forwards into their apartment a little, and there were Rodney's shoes at the end of the sofa. Napping, then.

That meant he could assume that Rodney had called Jeannie to share the bad news. Whether he'd done so coherently or not was another story.

He reheated the pizza, returned to the couch, and perched on the edge wafting a slice under Rodney's nose. "Rodney? Probably time to get up and eat something."

Zed was perched on Rodney's stomach, and she gave a mewl before stretching out. It was probably the pinprick claws that woke Rodney up as much as the pizza. "Huh? Pizza? Why'd the pizza come?"

"The Pizza Fairy brought it," Carson replied. "I thought you might need it."

He thought Rodney deserved it. Deserved to have whatever he wanted, no matter what. There was a moment then that Carson resented the fact that he had to go to John and leave Rodney, even for a few hours. Every second was precious. "Here, help yourself."

"We have a pizza fairy?" Rodney sat up, looking bleary and exhausted, but he reached out for the slice with one hand and for Carson with the other. "Thanks. Hi. Been home for long?"

"Couple of minutes," Carson replied as he took a bite himself and patted over Rodney. "How did it go with Jeannie?"

"It went." Rodney took another bite, his face falling unhappily. But his eyes were fixed on Carson. "You knew, didn't you? I didn't have an appointment until next week."

Carson froze a moment. That was the last thing he expected to hear. He hadn't even thought about needing a defense. Instead, he looked down at his pizza and said, "I wanted to be wrong. I felt ... well. Yes, I suppose I knew. But only this morning."

Rodney tipped his head close to Carson's, pressing his forehead lightly against Carson's temple. "Then I guess I don't have to apologize for getting you in the stomach earlier."

He'd honestly forgotten about that. "I didn't even remember," Carson said, twisting to give Rodney a light kiss. He sighed a little. "I do have some news, if you want to hear it. Nothing like a cure, though."

"If it's not good news, could you just ..." Rodney waited, carefully selecting his words, or perhaps not, because he followed the pause with, "... sit on it? Because I just can't, not right now."

"Well, I think it's good news." Carson felt guilty for not being more excited. A few days ago, he would've been insanely happy to know John was alive. It had been a missing piece in their lives for a long time. "The Daedalus is back. They found John."

Rodney's face fell, and his hand shook, eyebrows coming together. "Oh, God, Carson. Funerals aren't good news!"

Carson blinked a moment. "What? No, no! Elizabeth found John. He's alive. A wee bit battered, and the idiots had him in a medical coma for the trip back, but that was the medical emergency. He's in the SGC."

"He's alive?" Rodney's voice broke, and he leaned forwards to set his pizza on the table, a quick motion. "He's ... she found him alive? Dammit, I thought you meant that she'd brought back a corpse! That was why they paged you? That's ... that's amazing!"

"Yes it is. He asked after you. It was very nearly the first thing he said." It wasn't even really a lie; it had been after John had started getting some coherency back

Before that, it had been mumbles, groans, and half questions sleepy, drugged babble that John probably didn't even remember. There was a fair chance he wouldn't remember waking up for Carson, either, but they could cross that bridge when they got there. "He's really alive. That's ... that's amazing. He was on the planet of the kids the whole time? Can we see him?"

"Well, as he asked to see you, I would think so," Carson answered. If Rodney wanted the sun or moon, he'd find a way to give it to him. "He's been in better shape. He talked about side effects from some weapon he used against the Wraith Queens, and apparently they think putting him in the coma has helped him a lot, but yes, as far as I understand, he's been on the planet of the kids for some time."

"Which was where they left him," Rodney pointed out softly. He shifted, and his facial expressions were changing, caught between a grin and a dire frown before he slid his arms around Carson. "I almost don't believe it. Are you just telling me this to make me feel better?"

"Is it working?" Carson said with a pert smile as he tilted his head a little. "It's most definitely true. They'll want to debrief him, so he'll not be fit for much tomorrow. But maybe the day after?"

"Day after," Rodney agreed, and he was hugging Carson again, giving a ragged laugh. "Up down, up down ... fuck! I think I'm on a roller coaster."

And he was right there with him. "Maybe he knows of something they came across," Carson suggested tentatively. "Maybe he knows how to work this database in my head."

He was a world champion at grasping at straws. But what else did he have?

Just straws ... and Rodney exhaling shakily against him, hiding his face again, and God! He had him crying again. He'd have to tease him a little later, but for now, dinner was delayed. It could wait a few minutes. Carson wished he'd been there when Rodney had talked to Jeannie. Except ... John. John was alive, and Rodney was saying something about how it was a miracle and how one of them had a miracle coming.

Someone from the expedition deserved one.

Carson just wished it was Rodney.

There were different kinds of exhaustion. There was the run-ragged kind that Rodney was most familiar with. There was also I-have-a-cold exhaustion, where getting out of bed and stretching his toes could tire him out. Then there was I-can't-stop-vomiting exhaustion, brought to him by chemotherapy. But this I'm-going-to-die exhaustion was new and frightening. The last two days had been up and down, and up and down again. It was as if all of his bad memories had decided to pop their heads out to say "Hi!" and see if he was still sane and if that was the case, maybe they could rectify that.

So it wasn't any wonder that Carson had made him go to bed early the previous evening. It wasn't even the sort of order that could leave Rodney indignant because, really, he was out of it. It felt like his emotions were trying to burn themselves off, like if he used up his stockpile, then they'd never trouble him again. He'd laughed and cried in wild, uncontrollable jags that left Carson and Zed staring at him.

Carson, of course, inevitably held him. He put up with the occasional times Rodney wanted to just hit something or someone, and then offered him cups of tea with such regularity that he very nearly offended Carson by accusing him of being British.

It was typical of their relationship that it was that, rather than the emotional lashing out, that actually managed to score a hit on him.

Zed, on the other hand, would chew on his fingers, try to sit on his head, and lovingly draw blood, all the various forms of affection which show humans that cats love them.

Sometimes that had set him off, and Rodney hoped that the day he was going to be facing would be ... calmer, more sane. He wanted things, himself, to be calmer, and calmer started with him getting hold of himself. He couldn't spend the next few months freaking out. Because as much as he didn't want to wither away in his illness and have Carson remember him like that, he also didn't want Carson to remember him as utterly out of his head.

So, it started with him. Him and Carson in bed, and him waking Carson up the way he would have if it was a normal, lazy Sunday. Carson slept on his back, arms around Rodney, the way he fell lax from spooning behind him all night. It was a good way to sleep. Spooning had to have been invented by someone who understood the glory of easy-access anal sex, and Rodney was going to have to remind Carson of that sometime soon.

For the moment, though, he leaned up one elbow, letting one hand slide down Carson's chest, to his stomach. He had a few months left. Why waste it? He was losing Carson as much as he was losing his life, and if that was going to be the end, full stop, nothing after, the way Rodney thought it was going to be, then he wanted as much of everything as he could have.

That pretty much meant that he was going to stick to his promise of trying to keep Carson in bed all day, barring the sort of medical emergencies that brought John back. He was going to make good memories before he got too sick and weak to do anything, and before Carson thought he was too fragile to take him.

Carson shifted slightly at his touch.

Rodney wasn't going to think of John. It wasn't that he, they, never thought of John. They did. They were probably going to go see him after breakfast or lunch (whatever meal they got to first), but Carson was the one to whom he owed his life and his happiness, and it wasn't a debt that he was worried about having hang over his head.

He leaned in, pressed a kiss against Carson's cheek, and slid his fingers beneath Carson's boxers. One day, sometime soon, he was going to take Carson up on that fucking him while he was asleep thing. Just so Carson could know, and even if he had other lovers after Rodney, Rodney was someone he trusted not to abuse him in his sleep. It was something for Rodney to hold dear, that level of easy trust.

Considering everything they had been through, that was amazing in itself. Carson looked tired, with some lines on his face that hadn't been there before. He didn't want Carson spending every moment looking for a nonexistent cure when Rodney wanted to spend time with him.

Carson mumbled a little as he reacted sleepily to Rodney's touch with a languorous movement that was sexy to watch.

His own cock was well and happily awake, tenting against his boxers, because he liked the sight of Carson like that. Relaxed and unrestrained, the sheets pushed down, his hand disappearing beneath and distorting the fabric while he repeated the gesture, holding Carson's dick upright.

"Rodney?" came a mumble. "Are you fondling my dick, or should I concentrate on staying asleep for the next few minutes?"

"See? This is why I'll never be able to have sex with you while you're sleeping. We'd never get past foreplay," he deadpanned in a whisper. "Good morning to you, too."

"I didn't say I'd stay asleep," Carson replied opening his eyes. "But waking up with you in me would be interesting." He yawned a little. "I thought you would be tired."

"Woke up. Also, don't look at the alarm clock behind you. It's nine." Pretty late for them on a Sunday unless Rodney had pulled an all-nighter, in which case three was appropriate. He gave Carson's dick another lazy stroke.

"At least part of me is awake," Carson said, even as it became obvious that his cock was waking up more rapidly than he was. "Mmm. Is this a hint? Do you want something?"

"You." It was blatant, but he did. He wanted Carson, wanted sex and comfort wrapped together after the hell that Rodney had put the two of them through for the past two days. It was time to get back to life again.

"That's convenient, considering I'm in the same bed as you," Carson murmured and his warm arms were sneaking around him. "And you have your hand on my very erect penis." He leaned in then for a serious kiss, in keeping with the wake-up call.

"I figured that it was more effective than the doorbell. This," his thumb sliding over the head of Carson's cock, "says 'I'm here for the sex' a lot more than pretending to be the pizza delivery guy. Which, you know, we could try if you were ever interested." He liked the sneak of warm arms; the way Carson kissed him again after he said all of that. His tongue slipped just a little against Rodney's lips, just enough to get him to open his mouth.

Carson took a gentle advantage of that before drawing back. "You know that I would do anything that you had a mind to do."

He didn't add "especially now", but the meaning was implicit. "Any of your incredibly varied fantasies ..."

"I'm a little more interested in yours, actually. Since I've had a tendency to play mine over and over in my head for a couple of years, a little variety goes a long way." He pushed Carson's boxers down with his free hand, thumb resting against one of Carson's hipbones.

"Well, I always had this fantasy where I would wake up every day to a brilliant scientist in my bed, frequently with his hand on my dick and an insatiable gleam in his eye," Carson teased just a little. "I find men with big brains very sexy indeed."

"Perfect. How's the insatiable gleam working? Insatiable enough for you?" Maybe insatiable enough that they could put a sizable dent in the gross of condoms Carson had bought the month before. Not in one day, of course, but maybe Rodney could make that his goal: one hundred forty-four orgasms, a countdown to death.

"Oh, aye," Carson said deliberately dropping into a deep Scottish burr. "And don't tempt me! Otherwise, I'll tell you the one about the kilts."

"Kilts, huh? Would I get to take a look up your skirt?" Rodney shifted just a little closer, then pressed one last kiss against Carson's mouth before he shifted to scoot down. "I already know I like the view, so it wouldn't be a hardship."

"Easy access," Carson replied. "The ability to have sex in near-public without dropping your pants. We Scots are a canny lot you kn... "

It sounded like he had swallowed his tongue.

For a moment, Rodney wondered if he was more of a sex god than he'd suspected; he'd rendered Carson speechless and he wasn't even sucking his cock yet! He glanced up at Carson to catch the look on his face while he kept scooting down.

Zed was sitting on Carson's head.

Carson was trying to encourage her to get off without disrupting what Rodney was doing, but Zed was not having any of it. When Carson tried to discreetly blow at her like he would to get rid of a fly on his nose, all that happened was the kitten reached down and patted at his lips and mouth to see where the air was coming from.

It was annoying, but that was life: weird moments and a cat that didn't know boundaries because Rodney hadn't bothered to teach her any. He couldn't help but stare at Carson and Zed, and Rodney ended up giving Carson's cock a squeeze. "Hi."

Carson definitely did stop and gasp then, and Zed looked curiously at them both. "You know, I have a new fantasy. It involves having early morning sex without the aid of a cat. I know it's a wee bit irregular but..."

But he had a kitten clinging to his head, and that had to be painful.

"How about we work on that fantasy?" Rodney offered. He let go of Carson's cock and crawled back up over him. He could at least rescue his partner from the evil cat. "Here, I'll feed her and then we'll get back to this."

"I've always said you were a kinky devil," Carson agreed with relief. "Here, take her."

It was easier said than done. Zed didn't want to move. Rodney leaned on his knees and reached his fingers to slide them between Carson and Zed's sleepy claws. "Hey, hey, hi! Zed, easy girl. Let go of Daddy Carson. Do you want Friskies?"

"I think she bloody well does and thought she'd found some," Carson grumbled even as Zed resisted for a moment before happily clawing up Rodney's arm to mew at him.

She went right into his arms, and it made Rodney glad he was wearing a t-shirt still. "There we go, good girl." It was easy to sweep her up into his arms and leave the bedroom. "Yes, who's a good girl? You're going to get a big meal and then you can sleep on your bed or the sofa and you'll leave us alone, right?"

Zed looked at him with a guileless expression and he could hear Carson flop back on the bed with a sigh. He loved Zed, but she still felt she could demand all their time together. She was going to have to learn to share Rodney and how to treat Carson a little better, because after ... well, Carson was going to take care of her. Period. Eventually.

It didn't take Rodney long. He grabbed the shallow bowl he fed Zed out of, sectioned a quarter of a can into the bottom, smushed it up and mixed it, all the while keeping Zed held in one hand, half-hugged against his chest. "Yes, you're a good girl." She made her peculiar combination of a purr and a meow and then tried to leap out towards the food. She was hungry; that was all. They'd overslept and breakfast was late.

"Oh Rodney," Carson was calling to him from the bedroom. "I could end up going back to sleep."

"Oh, really? Well, I'll get back there," Rodney called back, setting his cat and her food down under the table.

That would hopefully keep her occupied for the time being. Rodney headed back in to see that Carson had thrown a towel around his waist as a fake kilt. He was using his portable CD player as a bad imitation of a sporran as he lay in a bad mock-up of a pornstar pose while still smiling at him hopefully.

It made Rodney's mouth arrange itself into a grin without any forethought. "So, that's the kilt of what clan? Sears or Martha Stewart? I forget sometimes." Carson looked great like that. He could see the muscles of his legs and the hair on his skin and the easy, familiar body. Rodney stopped short of the bed, and pulled his t-shirt off.

"Well Stewart is a name steeped in Highland history," Carson replied playing into the part. "Come here and let's see the 'Mac' in McKay..."

"It's only a wee Mac." Rodney pulled his boxers down with no hesitation, putting a knee on the mattress once they'd fallen on the floor. "So, we're all alone at last. Can I peek up your kilt?"

"That's a terrible liberty to be taking with a Scotsman. You do know the kilt inspired terror and awe in those we battled?" Carson mock-growled at him. "Are you man enough to face the dangers that lurk beneath the mighty sporran?"

"Oh, I'm man enough. I'm man enough to maybe do some poking around underneath the sporran, too." He wiggled his eyebrows at Carson and moved to lean over him to steal a kiss.

"There's probably some tradition about the tartans not being compatible. We have a forbidden love," Carson said even as he theatrically swept him into his arms. "But, for you, I would dare paisley."

"For me, you'd dare an RCA sporran," Rodney laughed. He kept trying to talk Carson into an mp3 player, but it hadn't ever taken. He was stubborn, one of those guys who swore by BetaMax as a viable format years after it was dead. "I have a secret. There's French in my bloodline."

"A French kiss?" Carson suggested as he tilted him so he could kiss him. "That sort of Frenchness I can cope with."

"Oh, best thing they've made except French vanilla," Rodney murmured, leaning down to meet Carson's lips. Oh, that was good. The pressure of Carson's lips pressed against his own, and then Carson's mouth opened beneath Rodney's, letting him slide his tongue in nice and easy.

Kissing like that was comfortable, fun, and a reminder of all the good things he now had. He wanted Carson to remember things about him as good and wonderful, not to have their memories dampened by the fact that other people never saw the other side of him.

Being remembered was something.

Being remembered as ... no, he wasn't going to think about that. He was going to go with it and have fun and let Carson kiss him back, let him slide his tongue against his own while he reached down to slide the CD player off of Carson's crotch.

"You do realize," Carson murmured as he came up for air, "that removing a Scotsman's sporran is tantamount to a marriage proposal."

"And here I thought it was tantamount to picking his pocket and taking his hip flask. I'm surprisingly unthreatened by your interpretation, however. So, big gay Vegas wedding or..." Rodney nudged the towel up with his knee, crawling over top of Carson.

"If you pick a Scotsman's pocket, you better be married to him," Carson replied, more interested now in what he could suck in terms of Rodney's, lips, neck, and anything else that came to mind. "I hear it's legal over in the old country now."

"Canada, too." It was full of implications that Rodney understood, yes, because maybe they should, but they had all of the justification and proof between them that Rodney needed. If Carson ever really asked thoughó. "Oh, oh, fuck! That tickles! Yes, oh yeah, right there!" Carson was kissing the cords of Rodney's neck.

"Canada is closer," Carson murmured as he kissed, his hand cradling around the back of Rodney's neck, threading into his hair. "But not as close as you are."

"I don't like long trips, anyway. Mm, yeah, I think moving the sporran was worth it." Crouching over Carson, shifting to stretch one leg out. Sucking just there made him feel loose-limbed and lazy, but he'd wanted to play it wild.

"It generally is," Carson reassured him, mumbling against his skin. His other hand was trailing along his spine, light and delicate in a counterpoint to his lips. "Mm."

Rodney exhaled a puff of breath and he moved a hand to pinch Carson's nipple. "So, where were we before the rude interruption earlier?"

Carson growled a little against his skin. "Are you looking for trouble? You know what that does to me."

Yes, he did, and that really was the point.

"We can do slow and lazy later," Rodney told him and he repeated the gesture, rolling the little nub between his fingers. He liked the pebbly texture of the hardened skin and the way Carson's eyes hazed up.

That prompted Carson to respond rather vigorously, holding and twisting a little to gain the upper hand. "You think you will be up to slow and lazy?" he asked in a mock-growl.

"Oh yeah, I'm always up for that ... unless you really wear me out first, but that's a variable." He settled back, sitting astride Carson's hips and the towel, fingers still playing with Carson's chest.

"Well ,let's see what we can do about that," Carson answered, now nearly sitting up. "You want something a little bit primal? It's the kilt. I knew it would stir your blood."

"Your proud Stewart kilt," Rodney chuckled as he shifted back a little. Carson knew just what edge of force and activity Rodney was comfortable with. It had taken some trial and a lot of error, but when he said 'a little bit primal', it didn't make Rodney's hackles go up. "Yeah."

"I think I like that idea..." He let the words trail off and tilted his head in the silent question: So show me what you're comfortable with, what you want. It was habit now. Carson didn't realize he did it anymore, but he did, every time. Every time, there was that balanced moment where he paused and gave Rodney the choice.

"I do, too. It's still pretty early. Some rough-and-ready sex to start the day." To start the day off better than the previous one, or the one before that. He gave Carson's left nipple another twist, carefully feeling Carson with the tips of his fingers.

"So who is rough and who is ready?" Carson asked. He could feel him inhale and hold his breath as he twisted just there. If he kept it up much longer, Carson would react in some form or other.

"I'm ready." It was hard to not smirk a little as he said that, but the closer to ... the closer he got, the less likely Carson was to play rough with himóeven if he'd still be able to get away with it the other way around when he had the energy. Making the most of what he had left was Rodney's new goal.

He gave Carson's nipple another twist.

That was the point where Carson practically pounced on him. It had been strange the first time he had goaded Carson to responding this way; he could be so careful, so tender and gentle that the rough passion was enough to boggle him. His hands were suddenly everywhere, the kiss was fierce and dominating, and he was trying to tumble him over as he tugged him in with roving hands.

Rodney went over, went with it, giving a quiet laugh before Carson's hands hit the edges of his ribs. Suddenly, he was on his back and Carson was on top of him, mouth pressing Rodney's open, lips against Rodney's, tongue sliding, pushing into his mouth. It was good. There was still a restraint to everything and nothing hurt. It was all Carson, all Carson's hands, and the towel falling away.

He could feel the heat of him, the rough movements that rubbed against him. The hand that found his balls and fondled them impatiently, then gripped his cock with a firm, swift movement.

It was like diving into boiling sensuousness rather than easing in gently. The touch, the grips, the slide of skin against skin was a sudden, powerful immersion.

It was easy to lose himself in Carson, sliding one leg to hook around Carson's legs, pulling him closer. It was easy to let his hands rove and press hard against Carson's back, feeling scars and irregularities that were like familiar street signs now. Two inches down from the flat scar of scraped-off skin was the dimple over the crack of Carson's ass, a comfortable place to let his hand linger.

The miracle was that they could do this despite their rough treatment, that they could do this and enjoy it. It was the pair of them needing each other and that was what Rodney could feel at the core of Carson's movements and kisses. Carson's fingers were mirroring his, but then they slipped down his crack, looking to test him, tease him, and look for reaction. Rodney was already reacting to the feeling, letting his legs fall loose, groaning and pressing down against Carson's hand, catching it between his ass and the mattress.

"Fuck! Yes, yes, I love your hands there."

"There's going to be more than my hands there shortly, laddie," Carson whispered in a rough voice even as he kissed him again, fingering him urgently, but still with an inherent care.

Carson's nails were always perfectly trimmed and he knew how to tease, pressing his fingers dry against Rodney's hole without sliding in, playing with the skin. It wasn't anything like rough hands shoving in, dry and uncaring, getting off on Rodney's discomfort. Carson's face was intent, his breathing just a little ragged.

"Yeah? So what's going to be there?" Rodney baited.

"What do you think I keep under my sporran?" Carson asked between kisses. "My caber, of course. It's a very Freudian sport. It's not even subtext really."

"Get the huge penis substitute pointed in the right direction. You've already mastered the real thing, so why bother?" Rodney leaned up and took another, harder kiss, before he twisted to lay on his stomach.

"There's an art to tossing one's caber, you know that?" Carson was trying not to laugh, kissing the back of his neck as he got settled. Rodney could feel it in the buzzing vibration of his lips against his aroused and sensitive skin.

"What about tossing someone else's caber?" Rodney settled on his knees, ass tilted up, arms crossed under his head. He never knew what to do with his arms, never had, and if they were folded under his head or braced under his torso, that meant they weren't stretched out over his head and tied up, and ...

And Carson was kissing his way down Rodney's back.

There were some advantages to having a doctor as a lover, or at least a doctor like Carson. He knew what to touch, he knew what not to touch. He knew pressure that would feel good and that would do damage. He knew how to keep him impatient by dabbling fingers in the still-open lube and slipping them inside with the practiced skill of a professional.

There was nothing clinical about what Carson was doing. "Oh, yeah... That's perfect. You have the best fingers, best fingers, agile and perfect right there." It didn't matter if he was mumbling it against his arm.

"I'd be ashamed of myself if I didn't know what I was doing," Carson said, intent on what he was doing, still kissing him. "Just want you to be a little bit more ready than this."

Lips against his back, his neck, and then low on his back, low enough to make Rodney grin to himself and wiggle his ass a little. "But I am ready!"

"You always say that, but I'm always the one who gets the funny looks if you can't sit down properly," Carson replied, though it did prompt him to hurry things up a bit. His fingers withdrew and there was the sound of him fumbling for a condom.

Oh yeah. Rodney spread his legs a little more, relaxed his back, and kept smiling. He was hard, cock bobbing between his legs, and there was nothing quite as good as the feeling of a good fuck. "I'll grab a pillow."

"You do that." And there was the coolness of lube rubbed in generous dollops in and around his ass, then the initial burning as Carson pressed into him, slowly and steadily.

There was hardly any pause between the actions, but Rodney was braced, ready, and wanting. All he had to do was bear down and breathe, feeling the head of Carson's cock sliding in almost too quickly, and then the rest of him more slowly until hips rested against his ass. "Oh, fuck."

"Well spotted," Carson murmured in his ear even as he pushed in. This wasn't the painstaking care they often took; this was hurried and a little raw and all the better for that as he pushed in.

Stretched open with Carson pressing against his back ... it felt so good, so amazing, enough to make Rodney whine an exhalation and stretch his knees a little more to rock his hips back against Carson's. "Good, uhn, good caber toss."

"Easy now," Carson steadied him with a grip there and moved. It was hard enough to be a little shocking and to burn as he stretched.

Fingers tight on his hips, steadying them both. The thrust was enough to make Rodney grunt and waver, trying to get more of the movement. "Easy?"

"As easy as you ever make anything," Carson murmured affectionately as he nuzzled him, pushed in deep, and started moving.

It was easy to do a lot of things with Carson, but it was hard to not lose himself in the act of sex, hard to not whine and groan and push back against Carson, hard to respond and exchange jibes because everything focused in on his ass and his cock and his balls and Carson's cock in him, and Carson's hands sliding up from his hips.

He knew how to push him to the limits with that insistent movement that demanded he move with him, feel everything burn as he did so and Carson pulling at his hip to get the right angle so he could rock in that incredible movement.

Just enough and just off-balanced enough that he didn't fall into a rhythm that would drive Rodney to the edge too fast. He couldn't work out the syncopation to match it, couldn't do more than rock back and forth and let Carson drive him crazy. "Please, please, please!"

He could hear Carson's ragged breathing behind him and he arched out to give the thrusts more depth, but without the force and brutal pounding that might hurt. Somewhere in that process, he was answering. Answering "Yes, yes!" or with groans as he picked up the pace.

Until they did fall into synch, until they did start to move together, until Carson's counterpoint started to fall apart and fall into Rodney's desperate motions, until Carson's rocking matched the ache in Rodney's dick.

It wasn't long, it wasn't drawn out, but the final acceleration of pace had a sort of timeless quality to it. It always made Rodney think that it wasn't surprising that Einstein came up with the idea that equated motion with time and space. His own, private theory was that he'd had some pretty good sex in his life and had experienced the same phenomenon.

There was the timeless moment that peaked as a firmness closed around his cock and milked it along with their rough movements.

It was a different falling apart from how he'd spent the previous day, a different letting go, but not less important or less anything, and ... oh God! Carson knew how to stroke him off just right. His fingers squeezed and then started to just pump him, easy and loose and jerking at him, even when Rodney almost protested that he was going to come.

The words didn't make it out loud, but Carson was groaning with the final burst of effort, hitting that final, stuttering pace and then the moan that meant he was most definitely having an orgasm ... and expected Rodney to join him.

The jolt of pressure against his prostate was a great invitation. Carson's fingers fumbled and stuttered; it was sweet and familiar and ... oh, God, he was there just as Carson was slowing, the stumbling motion of fingers and slow pressure of hips grinding against his ass made him tighten up, clenching around Carson because his balls were in control and tight and one, two, three shivers, then a little more, and Rodney was done.

He could hear Carson panting just a little, his weight still warm and heavy on him. "Well, I hope that was rough and ready enough for you," he murmured.

"Fantastic," Rodney mumbled against his arm. He wanted Carson to stay right there forever, limbs sprawled over Rodney's own. "No interruptions, either."

"Dream come true, like I said," Carson replied obliging him for a little while. "Mmm, that was wonderful."

"Good throw," Rodney agreed with a chuckle. He finally twisted, groaning when Carson slipped free. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea after all, but he'd wanted to kiss Carson. "Thanks."

"I think I should be thanking you," Carson murmured, dealing with the condom effectively, then settling down to hold him. "But I think I've used up my energy."

"I think we can lay here for a while and contemplate breakfast. I was going to try to cook something this morning, if you're feeling daring," Rodney offered, smiling as he shifted his legs and stretched a little before turning onto his side to face Carson. That was nice, that heavy, lazy feeling.

"My, I am the lucky one," Carson replied looking into his eyes. His hair was mussed from the exertion and he was smiling slightly. "Shouldn't I be doing that for you?"

There was a red streak across one cheek, but Rodney knew his face could go to all red blotches over his grin. "Why? I'm not an invalid."

Carson smiled at him. "No, because I love you," he said simply. "And you love food. What better way to your heart?"

"You're already there." The moment he said it, Rodney knew it was cheesy, but Carson was grinning at him despite it. "Okay, breakfast. We can both make it."

Carson was chuckling at him then. He held him as if they weren't running out of time, every minute counting down to an ending. Perhaps, just for a little while, he could forget about the futureóor the lack of it and just be here. Here and now with the one person he knew he could trust, who wouldn't abandon him.

Carson wasn't sure if he was going to survive Rodney's attempts to fit a lifetime of sex into the space of a few days. In some ways, he hoped that wasn't a figure of speech, which was a happy little twist of melancholy in his head. He also knew he wasn't dealing with this particularly well. Otherwise, he wouldn't be feeling so strange now that they were finally back to visit John. Maybe he should've stayed, even if he wasn't lead doctor on this one, by virtue of taking time out to help Rodney.

This was John. John who they'd thought they'd lost, John who he'd done a bedside vigil for time and again in Atlantis ... and he'd just walked away and gone home to Rodney when the man was barely conscious. And he hadn't been back since.

He couldn't help it. There were a lot of feelings and irrational things surrounding John for him. The equation of "lose Rodney equals gain John" was totally illogical, but most definitely there in Carson's head.

But he couldn't say anything to Rodney, because Rodney was so excited to be finally visiting John that he didn't want to spoil it. Rodney had been prepared for John to come back in a body bag or an urn -- or maybe even just as a set of dog tags. But he was alive, and Carson knew that Rodney still missed John. Knew it, knew that whatever had happened between Rodney and John hadn't been Rodney's choice. And Rodney was great for holding onto a flame long after there wasn't any fuel for it. He still mentioned Colonel Carter in a wistful tone of voice, even though face to face there was not a lick of spark.

Rodney grinned at the guard outside of the hospital ward and waved. "Been a while since we've been in here, hasn't it?"

"For you maybe," Carson replied, still a little morose. "Me, I get to see this every day. Now look, Rodney, I don't want you to expect too much. John was a wee bit incoherent when I last saw him, and his notes indicate pretty major problems. Remember, he was in a coma these last eighteen days."

"I just want to see him," Rodney said. "I just want to see for myself that he's really alive. It doesn't ... it isn't going to be real until I've seen him."

"Well, I don't know what sort of shape he's in now so..." There had been notes about evidence of massive internal injuries at some point, though it seemed odd that he could've recovered. Carson led the way into the SGC infirmary, looking around for the beeping monitors and tubes and... seeing nothing of the kind. John was sitting on his bed casually, reading a book, looking for all the world as if he had just dropped in to the infirmary on his way somewhere else and was having to hang around.

Carson found himself blinking in amazement. He looked ... normal. His hair was fluffy and artfully disarrayed as if he'd not long been in the shower, a little thin still, but even that didn't seem that obvious anymore, unless his memory was playing tricks.

John looked up, hearing them enter. Immediately, a beaming smile lit up his face and the sheer charisma of it was something solid and palpable.

"Hey ... Hey, McKay!" he said, and immediately swung his legs around to stand and step over to meet them both.

"Carson said you were at death's door," Rodney blurted. No, Rodney was at death's door, a little bit like the time he'd confided to Carson that he'd sat on Jeannie's doorstep years ago and the neighbors had called the police on him. By the time Carson had thought the metaphor, he wasn't quite sure what the connection was, but there was some kind of connection.

Rodney stepped forwards, moving to hug John.

And John was hugging him back and God, it just looked right. He remembered that. They always had looked right together, being apparent opposites but much more similar under the skin than most people would think.

"Well, you know Carson, he probably says that to give people an incentive to prove him wrong," John replied in his laid-back drawl. He grinned at him to show that it wasn't meant as a dig at him but as a compliment of sorts. "I'm doing much better now I'm not relying flying squirrel things as a staple of my diet."

"You actually ate those?" As if he and Rodney hadn't eaten worse, but he remembered from their last trip to that planet that Rodney hadn't particularly liked those little squirrels. That fateful trip. Rodney took a step back and grinned at Carson. "He's really alive. I almost don't believe it."

"John always was our odds-defying team member," Carson replied. Except that Rodney and John had been the team, not him. He caught the faintly quizzical look that John was giving him and put on his smile. He wasn't jealous; that would be pointless, considering. Jealous of what? John and Rodney when Rodney was dying?

"Really? I thought that was Rodney," John said and smiled at Rodney. All right, just a wee bit jealous. But if it made Rodney happy, then Carson could keep a lid on that.

"Not many scientists go where marines fear to tread. Here, hey! Why don't you sit down? Are you sure you should be up like this?" Rodney gave Carson another glance, a little worried.

"Hey, I've been a good little patient," John protested, spreading his hands to demonstrate that.

"I'm just going to check that on your chart," Carson replied. John generally had been a better patient than most. The type to have the nurses melting over how wonderful he was. Okay, and a few doctors, too.

"It's damn good to see you both. I thought I was hallucinating when I woke up hearing Carson," John was saying as he skimmed over the notes, frowning a little. They weren't making a lot of sense.

It was like he'd rebounded all of a sudden. There were some notes that perhaps his problems had been a result of environmental factors.

"I'd imagine. We didn't know you were alive, so you couldn't have known we'd gotten out." Rodney pulled up a stool and started to look for another one so Carson could sit down, too.

"It was the Genii right?" John asked "Those bastards! I've been waiting to apologize to you guys a long time, just hoping I'd get the chance, you know? I should've found you. Got you out of there. I know what it's like to feel like you've been abandoned by people you trust."

He did? Carson looked up at that. When had that happened to him? Oh. Well, aside from the year-long entrapment on the planet of the kids. Oh, and that thingy with Sanctuary. He'd said a few things then and just afterwards that showed he had a few issues about it. It was difficult to comprehend, though, and maybe they had been a little guilty of dismissing that as dealt with. He had forgotten that it had been over six months for John, a mere few hours for them. Maybe he did understand the anger they had.

It was hard to guess what Rodney was thinking, but his jaw went a little tight and he lifted his chin. "Oh, that's, uh, I'm sure you tried your best. There was the whole thing with the hive ships and the Queen Hive and well, hey. That counts as justifiably preoccupied."

Carson was watching John's expression and he was a little ashamed of the gratification he felt at seeing that that didn't appear to be reason enough for John. "Reasons aren't excuses," John replied, not taking the easy out. Just for once, Carson really wanted him to be a selfish bastard so he could have some reason for this irrational feeling about him. "I should've found a way."

"Okay." Rodney gave a curt sort of nod, then glanced at Carson again when he finally found a chair for him. "Uh, okay. We can probably sit down and catch up sometime about all of that. But I'm pretty sure you, I mean, I can't imagine you not trying, or Radek not, because he didn't want my job no matter how good the pay increase would have been, and uh..."

"It's okay, Rodney," John said in that familiar tone he used when no one could change his mind about things. "We tried, I failed."

That, by his count, was pretty much it. "Though I can tell you Kolya is dead. I'm guessing it was him right?"

"You know for sure? Or are you just guessing? I mean, between the nukes and the culling, but since the Genii troops had mostly gone to fight, it... it was always a chance." Rodney's voice picked up speed and he leaned forwards a little, still looking at John intently.

"No, I know. I saw him on the Queen's ship," John replied, as if he had just been passing through. "Though he couldn't really say anything then. And eventually the whole thing went up."

Carson sat down next to Rodney. Kolya was actually dead?

"So he's really dead? Was he culled, or did he die fighting?" While it didn't matter a damn to Carson, it mattered to Rodney. He'd spent enough time with the man, enough time with him getting into Rodney's head. Rodney had been convinced that Kolya had let them go.

John paused a moment. "He had tried to infiltrate the ship with a bomb and they caught him. That pretty much meant he had their personal attention."

Carson could see that John nearly winced at that and covered it with a faint smile. "Last I saw him he was still trying to fight, but..."

"But what?" Carson interrupted, leaning forward.

"You can't even guess at what a Queen's compulsion can make you do."

"No, we can guess. We were planetside on the Genii homeworld when the Queen Hive arrived." Rodney sat back, stretched his legs, and then sat forwards again. He was fidgeting, nervous, Carson could tell. "So, he's really dead. Huh. I, I'd half imagined that he'd escaped and was infiltrating his way into something. It's ... thanks. It's good to know he's not."

"I'm amazed you made it off the planet," John replied. "But if anyone could, it would be you guys." He gave another easy smile as if it had been something simple for them.

"It wasn't an easy thing," Carson replied. "Rodney pretty much got us out."

"There you go," John gestured as if that proved his point.

"Rodney got us out? Who kept me from walking off to their deaths like everyone else did?" Rodney craned his head and shot Carson a look. "And when did you become Mister Humble, huh? Every time I said that I managed to get the door open, you mentioned that, and you're right."

"Ah, but you stopped me walking off, as well," Carson pointed out. He wasn't sure what he was doing. Stepping back a little, giving them space, letting them be a Thing. Who bloody well knew? John was looking at him like he could read his mind or something, and he abruptly hoped he couldn't. Who knew what might be possible after they had come back with strange legacies in their own heads?

"I think I want to hear this story," John replied. "Maybe we can meet up when they spring me from here."

"When are they springing you from here, anyway?" Rodney glanced back behind him and gave a vague gesture to the place. "You won't have to worry about being listened to. I managed to reverse engineer something Elizabeth left after Christmas."

"Pretty soon. General O'Neill seems to have sort of compensation package going on, since I'll probably never be fit for active service ever again," John replied as if he wasn't admitting to a tragedy of his own. Like it was easy for him.

"It seems a bit early in the game to be dismissing you," Carson said, but his memory was rifling through the implicit messages on the chart. 'Possible permanent neurological disturbance' was pretty much a death knell for the career of John Sheppard. They'd never let him fly again unless they understood it.

"The side effects haven't gone away in what? Nearly a year. They're probably not going to," John said. "So, I get a nice apartment, chosen by the military, and I get to do classes and get in a doctoral program at the university in case I get bored. Though I sure as hell don't know how they wrangled that one."

"It's O'Neill, and it sounds suspiciously like the same severance package we got," Rodney murmured, but he gave Carson a look to check on that. "Well, Carson still works here, but they won't let him go offworld."

"Too much of security risk," Carson replied and shrugged. "Which isn't so bad considering I never was that fond of Stargate travel."

"So...wait, you're not working here Rodney?" John looked surprised. "I would've thought I'd find you cozied up to Colonel Carter."

He shook his head. "No, I, uh ... I work here sometimes, on my research. I've been using the gate and some things with Colonel Carter, but I have a teaching position at the university."

"Oh really?" John raised an eyebrow. "Well that could be interesting, considering how much you hated teaching."

"Oh, he still does," Carson replied. "But now he can hate it up close and personal."

"It's great," Rodney agreed quietly. "I mostly work with grad students, anyway. Uh, coincidentally, I think O'Neill pulled strings for me. Which is fine because I wanted to stay in this area."

"And any university would be insane to turn you down," John replied. He had a tendency to make his compliments sound like facts. He'd always done that.

"When are you getting out?" Carson asked.

"Oh, next couple of days, after they've finished going over details again. And again." He shrugged a little. "Problem is, I can't remember all of it. Not details like they want. It'll probably come back, so I guess they want me close."

"I'm sure it has nothing to do with you being you, or having the strongest, most reactive ancient gene in existence. Which ..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders. "It's not so bad. Even now, you'll realize you missed the hum of it."

"It was always a little like the memory of a song," Sheppard replied a little wistfully. That made Carson blink and look at him again. John had never said anything about what Atlantis had been like for him, just laughed a little when they made fun of him for being a living version of the Billie Jean video.

The fact he got that reference meant he was far too old for any of this.

The edges of Rodney's mouth came up and he leaned forwards again, elbows on his knees. "Yeah. It is, and it's good to be back. Good to have you back. So, uh, do you know where you're staying when you get out?"

"Some heavily bugged apartment, I guess," John replied, looking very unconcerned about things. "Do you live near the university?"

"Yes. I can walk there in good weather." Rodney sat back again. "Which I haven't seen much of. I'm actually driving a car again. Everything is novel again."

"I'm guessing I will be pretty close, as I don't think they'll be letting me drive either," John said.

And if he listened very carefully, he could just hear a hint that John really wasn't fine about that at all.

"What about you, Doc? They got you on call here day and night?"

Carson startled a little. "Oh, no. No, I, uh, live with Rodney."

"You live with Rodney?" John looked between the two of them. "As in together with Rodney?"

"Uh, yeah." Rodney gave a smile that wasn't nervous, finally, and recrossed his legs at the ankle. "Yeah. It's a nice apartment, and uh..."

John just looked at Rodney for a long moment, then over to Carson. If he ever wanted John to pay for not rescuing them, in that briefest moment before John smiled, as slow and easy as if it was genuine, he knew he'd had any sort of revenge he'd ever dreamt of.

His unruly emotions started to settle down, a little ashamed of themselves. John wasn't going to fight him for Rodney.

"Hey, that's really great!" John replied. "Congratulations to the both of you! Particularly you Carson, if you can cope with Rodney on a day-to-day basis."

"I think I've mellowed," Rodney insisted, voice a little edged with pride. "At least, since the cat. We, uh, worked it out on Dagan. After everything, after we got out." He said it like he wasn't sure what to say to John about it, because John was the ex. And John had slept with Carson.

John was pretty much everyone's ex, which was a fairly sad thing in itself. Carson felt a little bit foolish, his throat tightening and his eyes prickling as he watched John step back from something he'd obviously been hoping for.

"You have a cat?" he asked. "And seriously, it's great you've got each other. It had to've been tough on you guys, really tough."

"After the Genii, it was easy. Life on Dagan wasn't so bad. I brought them electricity." Rodney wasted a moment to grin. "You know, if your apartment isn't ready, you can stay with us. It's not the same if you're alone when you're adjusting."

John smiled again. "Knowing the military, it will be, so I'll pass. Sounds like I'll be close enough to think of myself as a neighbor, so maybe I can work on overstaying my welcome a few times, hmm?"

"Certainly," Carson said, knowing he sounded relieved. "We'd love to have you over."

"Really. Carson's even been teaching me how to cook reasonably well." Rodney was grinning again, mouth twitched up ear to ear. "Do you want a ride to your place when you get out? It wouldn't be a problem. I mean, I was a pretty bad driver before, but puddlejumpers aren't cars. Plus, the Volvo nearly drives itself."

"Nah, it's okay," John said, managing to convey a 'thanks for the offer' in there. "I wouldn't mind someone telling me where to buy some decent stuff around here. I'm not sure what the military regards as fully furnished." He shrugged a little. "Stuff like clothes. I managed to come back with almost nothing but the shirt on my back. They'll give me army issue stuff but, as they point out, I'm not going to be active military any more."

"We could, uh," Rodney half offered. "I mean, it's really no problem. It's just good to have you back John. It's good to know you're still alive."

"Yeah, I can say the same about you guys, and Elizabeth and the others." John replied. Carson turned as one of the doctors cleared his throat a little way away from him.

"Dr. Beckett, can I have a word?" he asked "I could use your input on these results."

Well, Rodney and John would manage to catch up. Might even do them good for him not to be there. "Excuse me a moment," he said to them both as he got up. "I'll be back in a little while, okay?"

"No problem," John said smiling at him a little. "You go ahead. Rodney can keep me entertained."

"You know where to find me when you're done," Rodney waved to Carson. Yes, he did, since Rodney would be coming home with him. "So, since you were there for the past year, uh, how're the kids?"

Carson left as he heard John start saying how some of the 'kids' had really grown up. The two who had guided Rodney around were now hitting growth spurts; he wouldn't even recognize them.

It would be good for Rodney to talk to John like that, to keep him going, to make him interested. He really did want to know how Sheppard was as well as he appeared to be, considering the dire results that had been on his initial charts. Maybe he had found something out there. Maybe he had seen something they could look for over in this galaxy. Maybe he was clutching at straws, but if that was all he had, he'd clutch at them.

It was a brisk 20-minute walk from John's new apartment to Rodney and Carson's place. When he was fit again, he would be able to jog it in less than half the time, but John decided that it didn't really matter, as he wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere.

He had time. He didn't have a job, and with the pay he apparently had, he'd never really need a job ever again, which was vaguely unsettling. In fact, he wasn't sure why he was back on Earth at all, as he definitely seemed surplus to requirements in pretty much every area.

It was pretty obvious he'd not exactly missed his chance with Rodney; he'd never really had one. He saw from Carson's expression when they came to visit that he'd need to take the doctor aside and explain things. He didn't want to give either of them up. They were pretty much all he had left now, and what was even better, they hadn't seen what he'd become in the fight against the Wraith.

He found the address and took the stairs carefully to get to the apartment, ringing the bell before trying to appear relaxed.

It was just Rodney and Carson. It was just them, still alive and healthy, and that was really a miracle. He'd hoped they were alive, held onto that hope. To find out that they were and that they'd been on Earth for the past year and a half was a miracle. There was something not quite kosher going on, but John would work out what was still wrong later.

Once he got to know them again.

"Hold on! Zed, get away from the door! C'mere girl!"

Zed? Zed had to be the cat. An attack cat, by the sound of it. And he was willing to bet she had other names, as well, possibly along the lines of P and M.

"It's only me, Rodney," he called out, finally taking his sunglasses off and sliding them in a pocket.

The migraine had faded into a headache, and he was used to that now. He'd bought some of the good chocolate for Rodney, as well, the kind he used to reminisce about longingly. It would be the sort of gift everyone could share.

Carson, too. And that was just weird, but it sort of made sense. Being held captive together could forge hatred into friendship and friendship into love. It was ironic that Rodney had just gone on like that. "John! Hold on, I don't want her to..."

The door cracked open and Rodney was holding an armful of marmalade cat. "She's started to anticipate having shoelaces to attack. Hi."

"Hi." He stepped in as the door opened and smiled at the young kitten. It looked like she spent the day running around and creating chaos from the way she was wriggling in Rodney's arms. "Brought you a gift. Want to swap it for the cat?"

He held out the box of chocolates casually, as if it was something he'd just picked up on the way over.

"Chocolate?" Rodney's eyes went bright. He offered John his cat, then hugged him without letting go of her. "Hi, good to see you. You look good in civilian clothes! Not that you didn't wear you uniform like they were civilian clothes."

"You get used to them," John said with a shrug. He let the hug happen and responded, making sure he drew the line at friendly. Zed squeaked a little in protest and wriggled to climb up John's arm. "And, yes, chocolate. I figured you might've got all the coffee you needed."

"We have all the coffee I know what to do with. There's this great place downtown that roasts and flavors their own beans," Rodney told him. He closed the door behind John and stepped back into the apartment, a signal for John to follow. "Hey, Carson! Company's here!"

"I'll be right with you," Carson's voice came from somewhere in the depths of the apartment. "Rodney, what have you done with my jeans?"

John blinked a couple of times. Beckett in jeans? He wasn't sure he could imagine that. And obviously Carson was semi-clothed at the moment, which was a bit odd. Then again, maybe not from what he remembered of being with Rodney.

When they had time for it, his sex drive was just through the roof. "Uh, did you check the sock drawer?" Rodney glanced at the box and groaned. "You have to come out here and take these from me, or I'll eat them all and not dinner."

"Why would my jeans be in the... oh!" There was a pause. "Got them!"

John resisted the urge to tell Carson to come out as he was. He missed him, as well. There had been a few times in the Infirmary when... Well, he hadn't been at his most stable, and Carson on his own ground was rock-solid. In life-and-death situations, there's a connection that tends to linger.

"Either that or Zed here will bet you to it. " John drawled as Zed investigated his hair. It would do it any harm; it stuck up no matter what he did with it. To be honest, he was surprised it hadn't turned white.

The Wraith hadn't gotten hold of him long enough for that. Just a foothold, enough to leave him sapped and empty and grey. "Zed hasn't yet learned how to open wrapping, have you?" Rodney set them down on the table, turning to smile loosely at John. He seemed like he was nearly vibrating with energy, but he seemed worn down, too. He wasn't the same Rodney that John remembered. "Elizabeth gave her to us for Christmas. Well, late Christmas gift."

"Smart idea," John commented, looking around. There was the look that things had been tidied up hastily for his arrival. "Nice place. Looks like they used the same interior decorator for mine."

He didn't mind that. Not really. Truth was, he hadn't spent a whole lot of time in his quarters in Atlantis, but that had still been more of a home than anywhere he'd had on Earth.

"Sorry about that," Carson said as he came in, finger combing slightly damp hair back out of his face. He definitely looked different in civvies.

Rodney looked like Rodney looked like Rodney, tired or not, but Carson looked different, less bulked up, more open. Which was funny, because if Carson had been any more open-seeming on Atlantis, he would have had people lined up outside of his office door. "Sock drawers is what happens when I put the laundry away. So, you ended up with the same furniture?"

"Let's just say I recognize a few bits," John said looking around. "Even came with the same house plants. Very nice."

"Oh aye, if you want to live in a hotel lobby," Carson replied. "Have a seat, John. Can I get you something? A beer, or is that off limits?"

"It's not like I'm driving anywhere, Doc." That was one of the hardest things of all. No driving nor flying until they determined how badly he'd managed to fry his brain. They couldn't understand their results and he wasn't that much help in clearing things up.

"A beer, then. Rodney, what're you having?" Carson asked.

"Uh, beer." Rodney was shooting one of the house plants a glare. "At least they're not fake. And we haven't managed to kill them. I'm fairly sure that's Carson's doing, since I remember they need water every month or so."

"If I was like that with my patients, we would be in a sorry state," Carson replied, wandering into the kitchen and returning with three beers. "So how're you feeling, John? I'll confess to being a wee bit amazed to see you up and around."

He wanted to reply, You don't know the half of it, but he just shrugged a little and smiled. "Doing okay. Still managing not to die."

And he caught the tiniest of twitches in response to that.

Huh, that was interesting, but John wasn't sure what to do with it, except note it and tuck it away. "Being not-dead is great. I've come to prefer it to a lot of things," Rodney grinned crookedly. He took his beer from Carson and started to twist the cap off. "So, do you want to sit down?"

"Sure," John said and moved to sit and take his beer. Nice and cold! He could remember times he had longed for a beer from the fridge. He smiled a bit. "This is ... weird. I know I've got a hundred and one things to say to you guys and, right now, I can't think of a damn thing."

"Shock," Rodney grinned, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "It's culture shock. After that mass hallucination, it takes a while for it to sink in that this is real."

Except that he'd known nearly from the get-go that it hadn't been real. Around about the point when they allowed Teyla to go out shopping with him. He'd read the reports on Teal'c. The guy had to practically save the population singlehandedly before he was allowed out.

"I couldn't pick better people to mass-hallucinate with," he said, raising his bottle to them both and taking a long swig. "I guess we need to catch up properly, don't we? I'm not really sure where we should begin."

"Well, we can start with Carson and me in the Genii prison or with you after the city fell." Rodney took another slow draw off of his beer bottle. "And I'm thinking we'll need more beer and some food for that, so I'll go see if dinner's done yet."

"Whichever you prefer," John said as if it was going to be easy to listen to or talk about any of it.

"In that case, we might as well start, because, to be honest, it became a little repetitive," Carson said. "I expect what you did was more interesting."

More interesting. Yeah, no one else had survived that many Wraith feedings, let alone Queen feedings. Rodney stood up to check on dinner. John sat back and Carson started to talk to him about what had happened after the team of marines that had been with them had been killed.

"Zelenka...now!" John was bellowing as shields started to fail. He could hear Wraith darts swooping low over the city. "The virus, now!"

"Just one more minute and..." The scientist was frantically typing. John took a defensive stance.

"We don't have another minute!" He was firing at the shadows, concentrating on filtering out what was real and what was Wraith-influence.

Zelenka was swearing in Czech, then he punched the "execute" button.

"Done! We're finished. Go, go, we can leave it now. They will not recover anything." Zelenka grabbed his laptop and a bag full of who-knew-what, but he was taking it with him to the alpha site come hell or high water, John could tell.

They were the last two out. Elizabeth had been hit during the last breakthrough; she'd had to give him her command codes for the self-destruct. He'd had to give that death sentence to the City personally.

Better that than Atlantis in the hands of the Wraith. There were too many of them. Too many hive ships, and they'd angered them taking out six with the reprogrammed Wraith darts their autopilots kindly docked for them. It had been a great strategy up till when they started putting the hidden beacons on the darts that led them right to Atlantis.

They ran to the star gate, timing it close. It was at the limit of the time lock, all the puddlejumpers had gone through with all they could carry. He couldn't even say good-bye. He returned fire to cover Zelenka making a wild leap through the gate, then ran like hell and hit the wormhole seconds before it disengaged.

Anyone trying to track them to the alpha site would have a console blow up in his face just before the City went up. If they were lucky, it would give them enough time.

John stumbled to a stop, boots hitting grass, then knees and hands hitting grass and dirt. He kept breathing hard. He could see Zelenka sprawled on the ground in front of him, gathering up his equipment. At least they weren't trapped. They had a gate.

"Good work," he said, a moment after getting his breath. Still, he couldn't help thinking that if Rodney were there, then maybe they could've ... would've ...

He exhaled. That was stupid. He couldn't undo what had been done; they hadn't found a device to do that yet. "You okay? We need to catch up with the others before they jump to the real alpha site."

Which John hadn't been told about, in the event the Wraith got them before they made it off Atlantis

"Right. I am okay." Zelenka fumbled with his laptop for a second before he secured it against his tactical vest. At least they'd had a warning, known it was coming, and could take every piece of food and equipment that they could manage. Gotten the Athosians to Atlantis and out again.

At least there was that.

But, right now, Atlantis was sinking, returning to bottom of the sea in broken, shattered piecesówhat had not been vaporized by the bombs. It shouldn't be silent here. He should hear something, something to mark its passing.

But nothing.

They jogged up the track to where the Athosians were camped. They weren't going to stay with them, he knew that. It didn't have to be said anymore. He jogged over to Ronon and Teyla.

"We got a destination?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. He was betting they would be going to one of the half-ruined outposts they'd discovered.

"Doctor Weir and Sergeant Bates have decided on a suitably safe location," Teyla answered. She gave a polite nod to Radek, but her eyes were sad. Atlantis was the city of the ancestors, and while Halling might never forgive them for destroying it, Teyla understood that it was them or the Wraith. No ancient would be coming back to save the city at the last minute.

"Elizabeth is okay?" John asked, even as Ronon looked at him with a 'Now you know what it is like to lose a world' expression.

"She's doing good," he replied and jerked his head. "The Athosians are going to join up with some of the Satedans on Yerlas. They've got good cave systems there. They should be fine."

"The man leading the Satedans is one Ronon knows to be trustworthy," Teyla added. Maybe she was telling John for her own comfort as much as his, because she was trusting her people to be with them, even if Halling was leading in her absence. They were still her people. Just like the people from the Atlantis mission were his.

"Good, good. We should be moving on to the alpha site, now," Zelenka insisted, gesturing to them both. "Truly, it is past time to leave. Just in case."

"There were way too many Hive ships in one place," John said even as they turned. One of the marines was punching in an address to the DHD and there was the familiar whooshing rush of a wormhole forming. The Athosians were lined up, ready, and he could see Halling's figure turn to look at Teyla and then very deliberately turn away to walk forward. "Guess we're no longer on his Christmas card list."

"If he were an American, I would expect Christmas pipe bombs," Radek shrugged tightly. John could hear Ronon asking Teyla what a "card list" was.

He didn't even want to try and explain. They had to run, they had to hide. They desperately needed any bit of ancient technology they could get their hands on, and he knew there would be no time now for personal missions. Not even ones that could get someone who might know all the answers they needed.

The Athosiasns left in too short a time, years of alliance ended in a way that felt like giving up. But, as of now, there would be no safe place in the Pegasus Galaxy for anyone.

"After we're set up at our new base, we're going back to that place with the Warrior order," John said narrowing his eyes a little. "This time, I think Elizabeth will authorize the participation in the ritual."

It had been one of the last missions he'd been on with Rodney. Power readings showing up, but the area was sacred and only accessible through participation in an arduous ritual. He could practically see Ronon's eyes light up.

At least it was a start. Telya murmured, "I will join you," and Radek made a sort of negative noise as he started towards where the Atlanteans were gathered. It was a start, something they could look into. Short missions to places they'd had dealings with before, only Atlantis was truly gone and not just a story.

It didn't feel real yet. He knew it would as they joined the group and heard Elizabeth, her arm still bandaged, give her memorial speech for Atlantis when he'd been the one to give the city "mercy". He only half-listened as she said that, surprise surprise, they would be heading out to Tathek, where they had found a well-hidden outpost that would work when they put the rescued ZPM into the system. There they would regroup, and then work on ways to fight the Wraith and to get a message home.

It sounded reasonable and hopeful to John, and he was pretty sure most of them were thinking much the same thing that he was. They'd had their asses kicked, and now they were at war. The odds were that, in a month from now, a fair percentage of the people standing here now would be dead unless they got really lucky.

John wasn't sure if any of them qualified as being that lucky.

"John?" Rodney's familiar voice. There was a hand on his knee. Rodney was crouched down in front of him, on one knee, looking up at him. "John? Carson's gone to get you some water. You went quiet. Are you okay?"

"What?" John blinked, then winced a little bit as a stab of light made his head hurt. "I'm fine. I was just ... you know. Remembering what happened."

"Okay," Rodney's voice was toned like it was the most normal thing in the world, and his hand was still on John's knee when he said it. "It's just that you get used to recognizing it. I didn't think my story of swashbuckling lock-picking was that boring."

"I'm really sorry Rodney," he said, and he was. "I just got a bit wrapped up in my own head there. Side effects, I guess."

"Side effects of what?" Carson asked as he brought in the water. "Drink this."

John hesitated a little bit. He didn't want to give them the wrong idea. "The weapon I used to destroy the Queen Hive. It pretty much fried my body and brain in the process." He shrugged a little. "I didn't mean to zone out on you."

"Don't apologize," Rodney insisted. He shifted back a little, but he was still looking up at John. He had that vaguely adoring look in his eyes that John remembered from before everything had gone to hell. "We both hang up sometimes, so when I say that we understand, we really do."

"That's true enough," Carson added. "You missed a good tale of derring-do though. Houdini McKay and his trusty sidekick fleeing the Genii Stronghold."

"I can imagine that," John replied. "Seriously."

"It helped that our jailer didn't lock the door." Rodney knelt back and finally moved to sit back down across from John. "So, what were you remembering?"

"How we lost Atlantis," John replied. It sounded a little bit sharp even to himself, so he deliberately softened his next words. "How, maybe, if you'd both been there, things might've been different."

"Well, Rodney at least," Carson added.

"You, too, Carson. We lost plenty of people, but I think you could've saved them," John replied. "So, do you want to try that flashback with the audio turned up this time?"

The edges of Rodney's mouth came up again and he nodded his head slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, if you think if won't ruin your appetite."

"After roasted flying squirrel, I think my appetite can stand most things," John replied and patted the couch next to him. "I guess the place to begin is where we worked out how to get hold of a few Wraith darts, then rigged them to blow up. Six hive ships went down, and that pretty much started the Queens thinking of Alliance ..."

The words rolled far more easily out of his mouth than he had ever thought possible. But this was Rodney and Carson, who understood even more than the SGC debriefing team what it was like to be there, left out there with a Big Nasty wanting to hunt every one of them down. They'd been there, they'd lived it, and some of the awkwardness faded away as the stories came to life.

It almost made John forget that their home wasn't his home, and that when he stepped out into the hallway, he wouldn't be in a hall of Atlantis.

Chapter Text

Sometimes you realized what you had when you lost it. And sometimes, Rodney decided, you realized it when it came back.

He'd missed John. He'd missed him in a way that didn't seem tangible until John came back to Earth, alive. It hadn't seemed real or even possible, and it didn't matter since John had ended things. He had Carson, loved Carson, but...

But there was an idea tickling at his head as he sat down across from Carson in the living room, laptop tucked under his arm. John was lounging beside Carson on the sofa, legs stretched out, Zed kneading one of his knees.

It had taken John a while to relax, which was odd, because he was the guy who got alien races to trust him and Ascended women to have sex with himówhich was a pretty good claim to fame. He couldn't remember anyone else having sex with an Ascended ancient. John had relaxed a couple of beers in, his tolerance way down for that to give him a buzz, and he was back to his normal, tactile self. Carson was gently teasing him about various mishaps and John patted him on the shoulder, steady himself, smiling as he gesticulated with gestures he remembered.

It was like the old John. Not that Rodney expected him to be magically just the same, because none of them were. But it was good to see him happy and at ease like that, demanding that Rodney share vacation photos to prove that he'd actually been on a vacation.

"Hold on, just let me boot this up. It's getting slower; I think one of the memory chips is starting to fail intermittently."

"That's the CGI trying to render all those photoshopped pictures," John said laconically. "You don't know how to do vacations."

"Oh, he does. Not only have we had a vacation visit from his sister's family," Carson interrupted, "But he has been to visit my mother. She thinks he's a charming boy."

"Visiting the in-laws, Rodney? When's the wedding?" John half-grinned at them.

"Aye, well, we couldn't do that until you turned up. We needed a best man," Carson said taking a swig from his beer.

"Worth coming back for then..." he said and half patted Carson again.

"In fact, we've visited Carson's mother twice. So it wasn't just a fluke good week, she actually likes me," Rodney rambled, bringing up the program to show pictures.

It was that interaction between Carson and John that had gotten his mind going.

"You liked her cooking. That immediately puts you on the side of the angels," Carson added, seemingly oblivious to the near-flirting going on. Who was he kidding? John could flirt just by breathing; he and Carson tended to be the reality rather than the ideal.

"So let's see these definitely not digitally enhanced pictures," John said. "Bearing in mind, I know the truth about the Kavanagh with his hair in curlers photo that mysteriously appeared one day." He quirked an eyebrow at Rodney in challenge.

"That was an accurate digital representation of what I witnessed once." Rodney turned the screen around for John and Carson, open to the picture of them standing in front of the Cave of Wind, or Cave of the Winds or whatever it was. "See?"

John was smiling, a little blurred around the edges by alcohol. "That's Jeannie, huh? And Madison, the genius niece."

"Who idolizes me, I think you should know," Carson pointed her out. "Her uncle Rodney is cool, but she's thinking about being a doctor."

"Hey, can't have enough doctors around," John commented. "Even ones of astrophysics or voodoo witch doctors..."

John was definitely a little blurry, and Rodney could see a shaking in his left hand which he kneaded at absently as Zed tried to chew on his fingers.

Tremors, Rodney decided. Probably nerve damage from who knew what, because John hadn't told them. Then again, there was plenty they hadn't told John yet, like "Touching ancient technology is bad. Only let test rats touch it." Still, maybe it was better now, but it could probably get worse. It wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on him, wouldn't hurt to have him around as much as they could.

It made sense to Rodney, in a way. After all, Carson was going to be alone soon. Sooner than Rodney liked to think about. And John was there. A + B = something like happiness. Maybe real happiness.

"Doctors are very helpful. Unfortunately, she's leaning towards medical," Rodney noted. He peered at the picture himself, and then grinned as he moved his thumb off of Caleb's face on the screen when he clicked to the next picture. "Oops, and that's my brother-in-law."

"The infamous Caleb!" John grinned at Rodney. "First-class advertising exec and pain in the ass, right?"

"Have you been looking into Rodney's head?" Carson asked smiling.

"No, no. Rodney just had some truly spectacular rants about him a couple of times. Things like that stick in my head."

"He hasn't been particularly forgiving of me for being on an expedition I can't tell him about that prevented sufficient communication with my sister." Rodney shrugged and clicked through the pictures slowly, the screen still turned around for Carson and John. "Tell me when you see something you like."

John just looked at him with a half-smile that seemed relaxed. His eyes flicked only for a moment to the laptop as he said, "What I'm looking at right now is good."

It was enough to unsettle and flatter him, and to make him glance over at Carson. He was watching him with that terribly worried expression he remembered so much from their prison quarters as if he might break, that something might be too much. It wasn't. It had taken time, but he had toughened up from his first encounters with Kolya.

This was not good. It wasn't good, because Acastus Kolya was looking at him with a possessive gleam in his eyes.

Rodney supposed this was how lobsters felt when humans stood outside of their tanks and pointed at one or two of them as just perfect for dinner; or huge cats shopping for mice. It didn't help that Kolya had a big cat-smile and just the right coloring to make Rodney think of the tawny cat he'd caught trying to mate with his neutered boy cat back in college the one time that Kaplan had escaped.

Kolya folded his arms. "Dr. McKay. You have had time to adjust to your situation. You need to become accustomed to some ... aspects of your presence here. I understand that you have been informed of our plans regarding your particular talents?"

And it was a stupid plan, but that didn't stop Rodney from folding his own arms over his chest and glaring at Kolya. "Yes, yes. You want me to make more bombs than any sensible society needs."

"You, of course, refer to a society that doesn't have early-woken Wraith to deal with," Kolya replied gravely. "The bombs can destroy Hive ships. That much your, um, diplomatic Dr. Weir established for us. The delivery system is irrelevant if we do not have something to deliver. And you can make bombs, and train others to make them."

He walked over to a table and poured himself out a shot of some liquid that smelt a little like neat, smoky whiskey, then knocked it back.

"I was hoping to take Colonel Sheppard with you rather than Dr. Beckett. Then, perhaps, I would've claimed him instead of you. Of course, Ladon seems to think he has the best of things between the two of you, but I think I would prefer to deal with you personally." Kolya quirked a smile that wasn't at all reassuring. "I have claimed you as part of my right of conquest. I am sure you have some comparative tradition from your world."

"Right of conquest. No, sorry, haven't heard of that before." Unless he considered it some stupid spoils-of-war thing, in which case the Genii Motel-Six atmosphere was starting to make sense. There was a bed in the corner and bare furniture, nothing that looked useful as a weapon, but it was still better appointed than the cell he'd been sharing with Carson.

"Then when your Colonel Sheppard conducts a successful raid and takes prisoners, he does not have the first pick, then his second the next, and so on?" Kolya seemed like he suspected Rodney was lying.

"What? No, no, we don't! We don't raid to take prisoners, first of all, and if we do take prisoners, like how we ended up with Sora, we keep them in a cell. Anything else... like making them work for us is against our laws." Against laws on his planet, he wanted to say, except they were in the wrong galaxy for Rodney to wave around the Geneva Convention.

Kolya laughed as if he found that hard to believe. "Then why does anyone join the military? Where is the incentive to climb in rank? Where is the incentive not to get caught?"

"There are all sorts of reasons. The pay, for one. Sometimes talented people grow up in poor areas, and it's a good way to get out. Others want the opportunities: the career possibilities and the training. The Colonel wanted to fly, and flying a civilian plane on our planet is nothing like a fighter jet. I ended up with them because of the opportunities to research things that you can't do as a civilian. Some people do it for love of their country." He was rambling, he knew, but his brain was caught on that concept. No one had hurt Sora, or even touched her. Teyla had spoken to her frequently, trying to get back the girl that she'd known from their trading days, from what Rodney knew, but that was it. No one captured her to make her work for them. They just held her because there wasn't anything else they could do.

"In a civilized society, the right of conquest is something earned and expected." Kolya tapped at one of the strange insignias that seemed to be some indication of rank. "I am one of the few to wear the Red. It means I have never owed a right of conquest, even temporarily." He gestured to a bar that was slashed across with a lot of vertical lines. "One for each I have claimed. Once they have paid their debt, I release them."

He took another drink of the strong liquor. "Unfortunately for you, you have a very substantial personal debt to pay off, and as such, I am entitled to a very substantial personal service."

They should have taken Kolya with them on Dagan. Rodney lifted his chin, teeth clenched tightly because he wasn't thinking, he wasn't letting his mind reach the reasonable conclusion. "What debt do I owe you?"

"You are implicitly responsible for the death of nearly sixty of my men." He looked at him. "One of those was my son. Now, if you were Sheppard, I would have license to do whatever I wished, and execute or torture you in any manner I saw fit. However, you are lucky. I am not actually allowed to kill you."

He leaned forward suddenly, his hand darting out and gripping Rodney's throat. "That doesn't mean that I can't make you wish that I would kill you."

Oh God oh God oh God, this was hell. They should have gotten themselves shot instead of captured. "No, no, uh, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, I didn't ... Look, I didn't close the iris and I couldn't have unlocked it if I tried. But we consider those war crimes. It's ... we don't kill people like that if we don't have to. It's..." He got his fingers up over on top of Kolya's hand, but he couldn't pry it off. "I can't breathe."

"You can talk; therefore, you can breathe." Kolya's grip was unmovable. "As long as you can function, no one will question anything I do to you. Understand that? There are two ways this can go. One, you accept my claim on you and perform the personal services I require without protest, or two, I will force you."

As simple as that. And Rodney was pretty sure that he didn't like the drift of where things were going.

"So, either way, I'm going to be doing what you want." Rodney could feel himself frowning as he pulled at the big fingers again, trying to lean backwards and away from the pressure. "I'm not seeing a choice here, then."

Kolya leaned in close enough that Rodney could smell the strong alcohol. "It's a choice of how difficult you want things to be. Whether I fuck you and you try to enjoy it, or I just tie you up and do it anyway."

He could fight it. He could, or he could use the opportunity to do something else, maybe try to get the upper hand, maybe hurt Kolya. Rodney pulled at the fingers again. "Why do I think you'd prefer it if I were tied up?"

Kolya released his throat suddenly. "Possibly, I would. I manage to stay alive by being cautious, and caution tells me that I really shouldn't give you opportunity to use your hands too much. But I am offering you the chance to cooperate. I will not ask you for your secrets, though others may do so. I will not ask you to betray your people that is not my way. If you acknowledge the right of conquest, you will find things much more pleasant. Perhaps even enjoyable."

They'd already had a taste of the other side of things.

Rodney swallowed, feeling the pressure of the palm against his neck. "Okay. Oh, okay. We'll, I mean, sure. Sure. I'll cooperate." Because he was a coward, but if he was going to be fucked, raped, it was better not to be the stupid, heroic asshole who ended up dead. They needed to survive and get out of there. Besides, Rodney had probably had worse sex in Russia. Definitely worse sex in Area 51.

If he thought of it as a bad one night stand, he'd be okay.

"I knew you were more intelligent than most," Kolya replied. "I would imagine your Colonel Sheppard fighting every step of the way." The hand raised then, more gently, to his face, touching him softly. "Perhaps that's the way he likes his sex."

Except when he didn't. Rodney almost said as much, but bit back the words. No, John liked his sex fast, sure, but fast and easy and consensual. Just inside the locked door, pants down, laughing, and looking for the lube. They needed it because they'd both escaped death and had to do something stupid for a mission, or, or ...

And Kolya had a hand on his cheek. Going along with it wasn't quite like cheating, since you had to be in a relationship to cheat, which he wasn't ... not anymore. Except it was cowardice, and when they got Rodney and Carson out, the debriefing was going to be hell. "Wouldn't know."

Kolya was looking at him, his mouth twisting into a version of a smile that looked like it had been hammered out of metal. "You are lying. I know now when you start lying. I have studied you ... Rodney."

He experimented with the name thoughtfully.

"Studied me, huh? Should I be flattered?" Rodney turned his head a little, flinching from the fingers on his jaw. "I think you'd be disappointed if you expected the Colonel to like it that way. That's all."

"You were lying when you said you wouldn't know," Kolya replied looking amused. "That is an interesting piece of information. Valuable intelligence. I am even more pleased, and convinced I have made the correct decision. He will try to find you and I will ensure you will never be found. Begin undressing."

"Look, you don't have to do it this way. I mean, we can help your people. We could still ally with you; we've been working with Ladon, it doesn't make sense to throw that away," Rodney told him. Stripping gave him an excuse to step back, to avoid Kolya as he pulled at his shirt. At least he still had his uniform clothes, even if he didn't think he'd have them for much longer.

"Ladon has your Dr. Beckett," Kolya said, still sounding amused. "Alliance with your people is unlikely. You will not help us fast enough, and we know more of the Wraith than you do. "

"And we have better weaponry than you do. Are you seeing the reasons for an alliance?" Rodney hung back and pulled his shirt off. There wasn't any dignity in undressing for someone who was looking at him like he owned him.

"I do not decide policy," Kolya replied looking him over. "But occasionally, I reap its benefits." He slipped his jacket off and threw it over the back of the chair. "I'm sure that they impressed upon you the consequences of fighting or trying to escape."

"Yeah." Torture, loss of food, water rations, all attempts to correct his behavior. Rodney had been warned and he wasn't going to do anything stupid unless it was a fantastic opportunity. He looked down at his shoes as he started to unzip his pants and, as an afterthought, started to toe them off, too. Better to look down than to watch Kolya take his clothes off.

"You are an intelligent man, so I will forgo the object lesson," Kolya said, unbuttoning his own shirt. "I also know that, despite appearances to the contrary, you are capable of courage and action. Therefore, I will only tell you this once. Should you harm me or escape, I have left orders that your Dr. Beckett be killed by slow and painful means. So even if you escape retribution personally, I will ensure that someone pays the consequences. I am sure the same applies to him. "

Wonderful. Just, just fucking wonderful! Rodney's fingers seized up on the zipper, and he stepped out of his sneakers. Fuck! He couldn't escape just to bring them back to get Carson; there wasn't a point in doing that if Carson was going to end up dead. "Can we ... could we not discuss that? Talking about my imminent death makes it hard for me to get it up."

"That part is most definitely optional," Kolya answered. "Although it answers what position you usually prefer."

"It does?" Rodney slipped his boxers off, and he glanced up at Kolya, a little less than surprised to note that the Genii went commando in wool pants.

"It does. Interesting." Kolya was muscled and scarred in a way that reminded Rodney more than a little of John's physique. He was studying the residual bruises on Rodney's skin. "On the bed. Now."

It would have helped a little if Kolya had mentioned to Rodney what he thought Rodney's preference was, because reality and Kolya's perceptions didn't have to be the same. "Sure. Uh, so, uh, what do you prefer, or should I just assume you'll let me know when you want something?" Rodney took a backwards step and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I will tell you," Kolya replied. "Right now I want you to lie on the bed and close your eyes. Do not open them. If you fail to comply, I will blindfold you." His tone made it apparent that he was very serious.

Serious in a way that Rodney didn't want to play with, didn't want to test yet. He frowned, but closed his eyes and laid back. The mattress had a mushy feeling to it, but the pillow smelled nice. It wasn't detergent or the soap the Athosians used, but it was clean, a little pine-like. Something to think about while he waited for the first move.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but a careful trail of fingers over skin wasn't it. Over his chest, a thumb brushing the pebbled texture of his nipple, a finger running over his abdomen.

"Lie still."

Rodney turned his fingers palm-down and clenched his fingers into the bedding. "Sorry. It tickles."

"Mmm." Koyla gave just that by way of a response and his fingers did more than tickle as they moved downwards, over to his thighs and legs.

He clenched the muscles of his legs, eyes struggling to stay closed. He was making it hard to be an unwilling participant, hard for Rodney not to pay attention. There was always the option of pretending it was John, but that wasn't doing anyone any favors.

"You look like I am pressing red-hot iron to your skin. Is my touch really that unpleasant?" Kolya murmured as more fingers explored his skin.

"No. It's not that... bad, actually," Rodney remarked, voice quiet in his own ears. Both hands were moving over his legs now, and Rodney strained to stay still. "But you wanted me to be still and keep my eyes closed."

"Yes. Be grateful I did not require you to be silent. I think that might've been a near impossibility."

That was very nearly a joke. A joke at his expense, but showing a sense of humor which, for some reason, was incredibly disturbing.

He didn't want to consider that his captor had a sense of humor, didn't want to think of him as a person, but Rodney had a feeling that he wasn't going to have a choice. "I've been told that gags don't work." Rodney swallowed after he said it. Kolya was dragging fingertips down his calves and the staying still order was not going to work. Not not not going to work, because he had to squirm down a little and twitch his legs.

"Tempt me enough and I might decide to find out." Kolya voice was close to him, leaning over him. His hand was moving slowly, drifting to Rodney's groin. "But not tonight. Tonight I want to know what you sound like when I make you mine."

And then a warm grip, rough with a soldier's calluses settled around his cock, and before he could even breathe, stroked and pumped him without any warning at all.

The touch of a hand against his knee made him jerk, made his fingers loosen on his laptop and then tighten before it slipped and hit the floor. Rodney blinked, sucking in a startled breath because there he was, in his living room, and there were Carson and John. They were all buzzed, a little drunk, and everyone was dressed.

"I better ... I better get going," John said still struggling to stand. "I must be in worse shape than I thought if this weak-ass beer can do this to me."

"You don't have to go," Carson offered immediately. "We have a couch. And a kitten who seems obsessed by your hair."

"Nah, if I stayed I'd probably end up in the wrong bed or something." John said and stood carefully. "I'll be all right in the fresh air."

"At least let one of us walk you home, John," Rodney offered, closing his laptop to turn it off. It was only after he closed it he realized it was upside down. Well, it could idle for a while, and hopefully the cat wouldn't sit on it.

"It's okay. I'll be fine," John replied.

"John, you're not long recovered; maybe one of us should ..."

"No Carson. I'm fine. It's been a great evening and, if it makes you happy, I'll send you a text so you know I get home. Okay?" John replied with a hint of irritation. "You guys have work and I have to fill out about a thousand forms, so ..." He petted Zed, smiling a little and then turned towards the door.

"I'd just feel better, John. You haven't been out of the hospital long, is all. But, uh, the text would be appreciated." Because the more he pushed the more John was going to push back at him. He didn't have work in the morning, but Carson did.

"I promise you if I run into something I can't handle, I'll call you guys," John replied. "And thanks, this has been great. Let me know when you want to do it again. Or drop round my place."

"Definitely. It's really good to see you again, John, and we're not ... there's no way we're going to go that long before seeing you again. I'll drop you an email tomorrow, see if you need any help settling in, or anything." Rodney glanced at Carson, checking, and he knew he was checking to see what Carson thought, but ...

Carson seemed fine with it now. Seemed happy that he was happy.

"Aye, we'll bake you a nearly neighborhood pie or something," he replied as he escorted John to the door.

"Only if you help me eat it," John said. "Night guys." He raised his hand to them both and smiled as he left. Their apartment felt a little empty without him there.

"Huh." Rodney watched Carson close the door, then leaned back against the back of the sofa. "He's still John."

"Did you expect him to be someone else?" Carson asked as he returned to sit down.

"No. No, I just didn't expect my memories of him to match him. I ..." Rodney waved a hand a little and shifted to sit on the sofa beside Carson, pushing Zed out of the way. "Sometimes I idealize people. So I expect more or less of them and John's still John."

"He is as you expected then," Carson replied and he sighed a little. "I know. He is isn't he? And I feel a wee bit guilty that I can't be as happy as I should be that he's back."

He hadn't quite expected to hear that, so Rodney twisted a little, looking at Carson's face. "Why's that?"

"Because," Carson looked at his hands a moment, "because I don't want to get him back and lose you," he said finally.

Rodney hadn't thought of it like that. He hadn't thought about his, well, his death sentence coming the same day Carson had to dash off to work to find out that John was back alive and maybe not well, but okay, and on earth again. That implied forty kinds of safe that Rodney cherished.

"You're not ... If he hadn't come back, Carson, I'd still be dying."

"I know. I just... I mean..." Carson seemed to be struggling. "How can I be happy about anything? It doesn't feel right."

"Maybe not right now. I'm not exactly comfortable with my impending demise," Rodney murmured. He closed the space between them, reaching one hand to slide fingers against the edge of Carson's neck, just to feel the skin there. "But I feel better knowing he's here. I don't want you to be alone."

Carson twisted to look at him. "What do you mean?" He sounded a little alarmed and concerned at his tone.

Which didn't make any sense to Rodney since he didn't see what there was to be alarmed about. "I mean that I feel better knowing that there are people you know here. I feel better knowing that John's going to be around after I'm gone, even if it's just as a friend."

"Rodney, please." Carson looked at him. "I don't want to feel you are giving up. There is still a chance. If we can get the ZPM charged and secure a stasis pod. And...and maybe John came across something when he was fighting the Wraith. Or Elizabeth..."

"I'm not giving up. I'm not. I just ... when things go wrong, if they go wrong, you won't be alone. I get caught up in worrying about you, Carson. We're insular here. Sure, we're not far from the SGC, but all of our friends are dead in another galaxy. Except John's here, now." So Carson wouldn't be so alone. "I promise you, when you're at work, I'm working on the ZPM."

He nodded, accepting that. "John noticed, I think. But he'll think it is jealousy. Which is logical, as it wouldn't take much," he said with a smile. "But he won't do anything. I don't know what, but there are some things changed about him."

"He had a hard time," Rodney pointed out quietly. He started to pull at the buttons of Carson's shirt. "And he'll tell us about it in his own time. But losing the city..." Had to have been a start to those changes, because in the end, John had considered himself responsible for them all. "And by the way, it would take a hell of a lot, okay? "

"Would it now?" Carson smiled. "Whatever makes you happy. I mean that. If you wanted to. I mean it."

And Carson did, which made Rodney's fingers shake a little. He slid his hand down into Carson's shirt, feeling skin when he leaned forwards to just hold him. "Not ignoring the fact that he left me, Carson, you're amazing and I love you. You can say something that stupid and mean it."

"He never actually left you, Rodney," Carson replied as he responded to his touch. "But that's something you both need to talk about. Without me around. And if I don't love you enough to see you happy, then I don't deserve you."

He never left? Then Rodney wasn't sure what to call it. But fine, fine, they'd talk about it sometime. They'd talk about it and now Rodney was curious, but not curious enough to get up off the sofa to ask John then and there. "I am happy. And if you think I'm not, then you're more drunk than I thought. Time to get you to bed."

"Now that is something I can agree to." Carson murmured, kissing him gently. "Lots of work to do tomorrow. Cures to find, that sort of thing."

Rodney slid his hand down around Carson's side, around his waist, and hauled him up to his feet when he stood up. It was easy to move like that, the two of them together. If Carson thought he'd leave him to spend his last few months with John, then, well, Rodney wasn't sure what to think. The expectation didn't say much about Carson's opinion of Rodney's loyalty, or it didn't say much about Carson's opinion of himself.

Rodney couldn't change that, but he could bolster Carson a little before he went to sleep.

Carson had already joked about getting him a key; he'd laughed a little but he'd wanted to say "yes", even when he was brushing it off. The truth was that he craved their company. Friends. Anyone. Someone who didn't look at him as the others had after the fall of Atlantis, or with pity at the poor cripple.

So far, he'd managed to keep that mostly out of sight all the times Carson's been around. He timed his medications to be at their most effective then, like he had tonight, heading around for dinner again.

Maybe one day he would just let himself in, but for now, he still knocked.

Mostly because he remembered Rodney's sex drive; there was the possibility that knocking was needed to preclude any particularly embarrassing situations. More embarrassing than finding out that Rodney put clothes in the sock drawer sometimes.

"Hold on, I'm..." There was some hurried noise, then the door pulled open. Rodney, no armful of cat this time. He looked distracted and a little bored. The only sound in the house was the radio on in the background. "Hi."

"Hey," John stepped inside. "Did I come on the wrong day?" For a terrible moment, he actually doubted himself. They had told him that was possible. "I don't hear Carson throwing pots and pans around."

"No, he was called in for a medical emergency. The, uh," Rodney waved a hand a little, and dragged up a tired smile, "gate team came back with some kind of space parasite. Worms or something. So, uh, takeout okay? I lost track of time."

"Takeout's fine. You should've called; I could've picked it up on the way over." He'd tried jogging, which had gone well up to the moment his right leg muscles went crazy. He'd walked that out. "Or if you don't want to today, it's cool. I can go home."

"No, no, stay. Really." Rodney wandered back towards the kitchen table, where he'd set up his laptop. The power cord was dangling down off the table, and there was a powerbar half-eaten beside the laptop. "I was working on some calculations. Uh, pizza? There's a place down the road that delivers in about 20 minutes."

"Pizza is good. I've been trying all the local takeout, but haven't gotten to that one yet." He followed and sat on one of the chairs, prompted by aching leg muscles. "You should take a break. You look tired."

"That was my idea." He closed the laptop, grinning a little. "But I'm so close to getting a breakthrough on recharging the ZPM. So close! I just need that 'eureka!' moment." It made John smile that Rodney proceeded "eureka" with three quick snaps of his fingers. He looked a little wan and worn out, but that probably had a lot to do with him working every moment that Carson wasn't around.

"I seem to remember you getting that quite a lot when you were eating, or just bouncing ideas around," John shrugged a little and lifted the four-pack of beer he'd brought with him. "Thought I'd replace your supplies."

"Oh, brilliant! And it's not Bud Light! Hah, Molsen." Rodney grinned as he reached for the beer. "You remembered all of my rants about American piss beer."

John smiled. "Yeah. You lectured about them often enough. I think I worked out your opinion somewhere along the line."

That was better, he seemed to be relaxing. "You want me to call for pizza?"

"I'll call, since you brought beer. What kind do you want? Everything but pineapple?" Rodney wandered towards the phone, away from John.

"Yeah, whatever. I like pretty much anything. Roast flying squirrel if they have it."

He still dreamt about that, about being so damn useless and vulnerable all the time. He tried to keep his smile genuine.

Keras had been all right with his uselessness, content to have his company and his knowledge, but it hadn't stopped John from wanting to contribute more. He wasn't used to just lying there too weak to move, reliant on a younger man to look after him.

"I'll be sure to ask." Rodney 's mouth pulled up crookedly in the corner, and he started to dial. It gave John an excuse to look around, looking for Zed.

The marmalade kitten was stalking the laptop, trying to see if she could sit on the residual warmth of it without anyone noticing. But she was just as willing to play chase the wiggling fingers and skitter and slide all over the table. She purred at him so loudly, he was convinced Rodney had some sort of amplifier hidden.

And then Rodney was pulling out a chair beside John's, grinning. "Pizza's on the way. She really likes you."

"Your cat likes everyone, Rodney," John replied even as Zed rolled on her back to lure him in to tickle her belly, which meant inevitable doom for his hand. The bites were like pins and needles over his knuckles.

"She does. She's Rodney's little attention whore," Rodney noted, smiling as he reached out to scratch her head. "Yeah. Yeah you are, Zed. Uh-huh..."

That had her immediately rubbing her head against his hand and switching her attention from John to him. "So, does Carson get called in on medical emergencies often?" he asked. He was okay about this, about Carson and Rodney. They had each other and that was good. Very good, because they could be happy.

"Not too often. Once every couple of weeks. He's reluctant to do it, because he, uh ..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders and stroked his fingers over his cat. "They don't treat him the way they used to, and I think he'd rather be home."

John frowned. "What do they do to him? He doesn't have to stay there, does he?" He was missing something. They were all tiptoeing around gaping holes in what had happened to them all.

And John knew what his gaping hole was, but he had to wonder what Carson's and Rodney's were. He doubted that they'd all been to the same warrior-cult that he'd visited. "No, but ... you'd just have to see. You'd have to be there to understand. It's complicated."

"Rodney, I don't think there is much of anything that hasn't been complicated," he said. "It's not like I don't know there's something you're both not telling me. I guess there's things I haven't said either."

"Probably not," Rodney agreed. He looked at Zed for a moment and then leaned down to kiss the top of the cat's head. "Okay, this needs a beer. One of the many things the Genii used us for was to activate artifacts."

Ah well, there is was. Nothing like an ancient artifact to screw around with things. "The ability to make things glow is highly sought-after," he said grabbing a beer. "There were a lot of people running around scrabbling for ancient tech then, and no one hanging 'Touch and die!' signs on things."

"There should have been a lot more of those signs," Rodney noted softly, reaching for a beer just the same as John. "A lot more. So, Carson got his hands on one of them, and I touched something different, and ..."

"Something happened," John said as Rodney faded out. "So, what did it do and is it permanent?"

Or had they burnt it out, like he seemed to have done? Not surprising, really, considering the strain he put it under.

"Permanent. I could give you a demo, but it screws me up. I can't talk really well if I do it, but, well, that was what caused the Genii to crack down on us. You would have, too, if you suddenly had a prisoner who could pick locks with his mind."

John raised his eyebrows. "That is so...cool," he said and meant it. Picking locks with his mind. Unbelievable. Why hadn't he got something like that? "So very cool."

"Yeah." Rodney said and then he laughed, a burst of noise. "Yeah, it is. It's cool. I can do all of my rewiring with my mind and it's precise and perfect. I do, sometimes. Carson's gotten used to translating for me when I do it."

"What, you can't speak or something?" John asked. Slightly less debilitating than not being able to walk or ... get up because of the tiredness and migraine. Migraines officially sucked, especially ones that made him vomit because of pain. Not so many of those now, and he was glad of it. Since he'd been back to Earth, he'd been doing a lot better.

"My brain gets ahead of my voice, so I'm actually saying every tenth word or so. It's ..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders a little and took a swig off the beer. "Not so bad. Carson got the short stick."

He shouldn't be surprised, but he was. For all the things they had been exposed to, Carson had managed to stay pretty much out of harm's way when they had been in Atlantis. "What ... what happened to him?"

"He touched an object that was embedded in a wall they took him to. It was a, uh, the best thing I can think to call it was a database creation device. It downloaded one version of the ancient database into Carson's head. The database wasn't password-protected; if you asked him any kind of empirical question it would activate." Rodney laughed a little. "I figured it out trying to play prime, not prime with him."

John chuckled. "I remember you and Zelenka playing that all the damn time," he said. "That doesn't sound too bad, or am I missing something?"

"You're missing something." And John had almost missed that bluntness. "It, it takes over, and Carson loses control of his body. He can't move, he can't do anything but let the database answer. It takes over, and do you know how many times the database is just activated and left on?"

"Considering all the dire warnings you used to issue daily about leaving computers on and draining ZPMs, I'd say way too many times." John replied and looked up at him. "I wondered from the way he acted, but it could've been what they did to you. That sort of look."

"What sort of look?" Rodney sounded like he'd lost his train of thought a little, but he seemed to be focused when he set the beer down.

"The slightly defensive, vulnerable look," John replied frankly, which was generally the best way to be around Rodney. "As if he is looking at me to see if I'm going to...do something."

Rodney snorted and picked up the beer before Zed could do more than sniff at the neck. "He... look, I know you left me. You know you left me. He seems to think that now that you're back, I'm going to leave him."

"What?" That part of talking with Rodney where he blindsided him was not something he missed. "And... what? I mean... what?"

He just wasn't sure where any of that had come from. "I didn't leave you. You stopped seeing me."

"What? No, you stopped seeing me. I mean, it was pretty clear to me. One day you were coming to my room after hours, and then you spent two weeks avoiding me. It wasn't the most manly way I've been dumped in my life, sure, but I accepted it." Rodney rattled all of that off easily, animatedly, like he was comfortable with what he was saying.

"Rodney..." John felt like someone had crumpled up one big, angst-laden mystery in his life and made it into the emotional origami equivalent of a paper party hat while he'd been making paper cranes. "Rodney, I didn't dump you. I was trying to have a relationship. And you might remember the fact someone pushed me into those damn flowers on Vrasis. I spent a lot of the next week or so not even wanting to look at myself, let alone inflict that on someone else. Just because there weren't effects on my face doesn't mean I was making it up. Carson knows that!"

"What?" Rodney stared at him for a second, set the beer down, and swept the cat off the table in almost the same motion. "But I looked for you. And people started to tell me that you didn't want me bothering you and you never said anything!"

"Because I couldn't say 'no' to you, and I was trying to make things about a little more than just sex," John answered. "Though the sex was great. Really. But you would've come in, you would've wanted something, and I looked a bit like some mutant cauliflower under my uniform. I didn't want you seeing that. Hell, I didn't want to see it."

It hadn't actually hurt. It had just made him as attractive as three-year-old decomposing remains. He wasn't so secure that he was going to inflict that on someone he wanted more than sex with. "By the time it was gone, so were you."

Gone, proving a point.

"Gone where? I walked into the infirmary one night to ask Carson something ... and I saw a little more of him naked and in your mouth than I'd ever expected to see. I was still firmly on Atlantis and not quite over the fact that you blatantly avoided me. And why would you think I'd care that you looked like mutant cauliflower? Who was the pudgy, pasty geek in the relationship, John?"

"Because I did care and that freaked me out." That was the truth of the matter. "And I'd heard about you and Katie Brown, and I. Okay, it wasn't a mature way of dealing with things. I felt shitty for doing that to Carson, and to you, but ..."

He shrugged. "I'm not good with relationships. Never have been."

"And I am?" Rodney was looking at him, frowning and staring and apparently full of disbelief at John's words. "So what about me and Katie Brown? I had one date with her, before you, and I happened to be sharing a body with Cadman at the time so I'm not going to really count that. That whole episode was disturbing. But I'd like to know where you think I went, huh? Except looking for you."

John frowned a little. "She ... she was talking to Cadman over dinner. I remember that. She was describing everything. She didn't know I was there, I'm pretty sure."

Or was he? Really? He was starting to feel like an idiot. Nothing new there.

Rodney's face was starting to turn red, but it wasn't an embarrassed red. It was Rodney's angry red face, the one John had possibly thought he'd actually missed. "What? No, wait! What? I don't know who she was talking about, but it wasn't me. I was never anywhere near her except for one really shitty half-date that Carson chaperoned, and a kiss when I wasn't in control of my own body. In fact, my sexual partners for the last, oh, decade was one bitter marine in Area 51, some bad drunken orgies when I was stationed in Russia, you, Kolya, and Carson. In that order, with no overlapping!"

And now, of course, it was easy to see the truth: either he'd screwed up or let things get screwed up because while sex was great, relationships were big, big mysteries to him. And besides, he had lost Rodney. Completely.

"I, okay Rodney. I fucked it up. That probably sums up everything," he said, still managing to make his voice sound level. "I fucked it up. I should've done something different. " Not had sex with Carson for a start. But at the time, he'd felt like it was a good idea, the best idea.

Rodney's face was still twisted up in anger, and John could tell he wasn't going to let it drop. "No, I'm not going to let you do that martyr shit on me. You thought I was cheating on you. You thought I was capable of cheating on you, or did you think I was just in it for the sex? I missed you every goddamned day, but I didn't want to lose your friendship, so I didn't bring it up or ask why you just ..."

"And I thought that meant it was true, that you wanted to pretend it hadn't happened," John replied, trying to ignore the twitching in his leg muscle. "Rodney, everyone I have ever slept with has slept with other people. I haven't had a relationship that has even come near working. It seemed inevitable. It seemed that when I heard them, that was what I had been waiting for. That other damn shoe dropping and kicking my ass on the way down. It happens. It happens, but this time it ... I cared."

The corners of Rodney's mouth pulled down, but he didn't look away from John. "And because you cared, you just ... you dropped it. That's ... how can you be that stupid and be so smart at the same time? Every person I came across wanted you, John! Every person. I listened to Kolya rant for six months how he wished that he'd captured you instead of Carson because he wanted you. And you have no idea how it feels to be someone's second choice for nightly molestation. To listen to him go on about how you would have fought and spit and you would have. I had to think about that when I was still missing you, despite the fact that I'd been watching you sleep your way through the base after we had this quiet, hush-hush thing dictated by your stupid 'don't ask, don't tell, don't get caught' policy, and..."

"Rodney, your lips are starting to go blue," John pointed out. "Breathe. Seriously, just stop and take a breath. What does it matter now? I can see what I fucked up. I can see what I lost, okay? Carson doesn't have to worry because it's pretty obvious you guys are really good together. I think I pretty much worked out it was my fault, and that's fine." He paused for a moment. "People might want me, but that isn't the same as needing me around."

He went quiet after John's prompting, sucking in quiet, hard breaths. "I needed you. And Carson doesn't have to worry because I don't cheat on people, no matter how much I might be tempted; I am not my parents. But I'm not going to be around for much longer. I'm going to be ... huh, I guess the word of the day is 'gone'." Rodney's mouth was still twisted downwards and he took a sharp swig of beer.

John stopped. "What?" he said a little weakly. "What are you talking about, McKay?" John only called him that when he was trying to distance himself. He looked directly at the other man, hoping, praying that he had misheard things.

"I'm talking about how you have the best timing in the world, Sheppard." The doorbell rang and Rodney startled a little, jolting to his feet and reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. "You showed back up the very day Carson dragged me off to the doctor. I spent the whole morning being tested 40 different ways so they could tell me that I wasn't in remission after all." The doorbell rang again and Rodney snapped, "All right, all right! Lay off the bell!" just before he jerked the door open.

The pizza guy seemed to realize this wasn't a day to hold out for a good tip and John just sat there, numb with the irony of things: what he'd had and had lost. For the first time in a year, he regretted not having any more, even when he had sworn he'd never use it again. Ever. Not under any circumstance.

Maybe ... maybe Rodney was exaggerating. He knew that was wishful thinking, though. He knew when Rodney was just panicking about things, and talking about remission was not "just panicking". Remissions would be tumors or cancer or something.

He was still speechless when Rodney returned with the pizza.

"So, I don't want you to let Carson push you away because, clearly, you take the hint and go running too quickly." Rodney picked up on the quietly bitter, running commentary as he came back with the pizza, setting it on the table. "Because it's just us, and they treat him like an encyclopedia at the SGC. And maybe we didn't experience the same hells, but you, you understand what happened in a way that no one else can."

He understood death and dying painfully far too well for it to be just empathy. "Yeah. Yeah I understand." Rodney didn't look sick, didn't sound sick. He just seemed like Rodney. He couldn't reconcile what he had just been told with reality. "I... I'm sorry."

John wouldn't even know that he was apologizing for what might've been if the Wraith hadn't done so much to him, even as he killed all of them.

Rodney just stood there, looking down at the pizza box on the table. "Yeah. I'm sorry, too. I missed you, John. And I don't mean to get angry at you, but this has been one huge clusterfuck, hasn't it? You and me." He laughed, but it didn't particularly sound happy.

"Pretty much," John replied. He also knew he was pretty much to blame from the sound of it. Everyone had assumed he had dumped Rodney, and he'd been thinking all along they were totally wrong. "You've a right to be angry. I knew better."

He did know better, but he had believed in it going wrong without question. "But, you know, we don't have to carry on screwing up ... not if you don't want to."

"I'd prefer not to. Carry on screwing up, I mean." Rodney still wasn't looking at him, eyes on the table or some particularly fascinating particle on the table's surface.

"Then you could look at me. Tell me what I can do," John said quietly. If this was true ... of course it was true, but he needed to try and work out if he could do something.

"I don't know. We were so good at it. I don't, wouldn't know where to ..." Rodney's head didn't move, but he lifted one hand, gesturing with it. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I throw myself for a loop in my head. I'm really my own worst trigger."

"Rodney, it's okay," John said quietly, moving closer until he could put a comforting hand on him. "You're pretty much entitled to have a few loop-the-loops."

"Carson says the same thing, but..." But John snuck in, and he put a hand on Rodney's arm. He'd been pretty careful about not touching Rodney. Nothing past that big bear hug he'd gotten the last time he'd come for dinner or using Rodney's knee to steady himself when he stood up. But a deliberate touch that he started was probably the kind of thing that would really have driven Carson up a wall.

He could feel Rodney shaking, just a little.

"You okay?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. That was an incredibly stupid thing to say. Of course, he wasn't. "You got anything more you want to get off your chest?"

"Years' worth. I'm going to have to stop getting pizza. This is the second time in a row that this has happened. Normally I'm just fine, nothing wrong, cope great, but you, and the pizza, and..." And it was a little like the old Rodney because he was finally turning to John, looking at him. His mouth was pulled into a tight slash before he hugged him.

"Definitely the pizza's fault," John murmured as he stroked Rodney's back. And there, it hurt. There was a tugging pull in his head that he remembered, but nothing more. He could feel something, even if there was no actual connection.

There was something wrong. Just a twinge, just enough for John to want to fix it right away, but he couldn't; it wasn't there anymore. He'd burned himself out. "Goddammit. I missed you so much, and it's so good to have you back!"

"Yeah, same here," John answered. Maybe if he could feel, he could find some way to get it back or something. He knew what the side effects were, so fucking what? Maybe if he tried those meditation techniques he learned in the Sanctuary, or maybe this database of Carson's would have something on it.

Rodney pressed the side of his head against John's for a moment. His shoulders shook before he started to pull back. "We were expecting Elizabeth to find your dogtags. And that was it."

"Well, that pretty much was very nearly it," John replied, having to resist the urge just to turn and kiss him. He'd given that up, or he'd given up on it a long time ago. "I'm not really sure why it wasn't."

"Because the Pegasus galaxy has a soft spot for Air Force majors. Uh, Colonels." Rodney shifted and finally fell back into his chair. He was looking shaky but better, even if there were red blotches blooming on his cheeks. "I wish you'd been there with us on Dagan. Carson and I are going to go down in their history."

"Not just there," John replied with a faint smile. He had enough of that notoriety. "Ronon and Teyla are practically demi-gods.

"And, somehow, I don't think it's gone to their heads. Elizabeth told us that their new combined population is doing well," Rodney commented calmly. He finally reached to open the pizza box. "Oh, damn, plates. Hold on."

"Yeah? I haven't really seen Elizabeth for more than a few dazed talks before she shipped back out again. " He smiled a little."I was on too many drugs to hear what she had found out. I'm glad about that. That's what I told them to do. The Wraith worshippers were after them."

"The Wraith worshippers are long-dead now. The native populations on most planets rallied against them. They had superior organization and technology once they stopped being scared of the Wraith worshippers." Rodney ducked back into the kitchen, and John could hear plates clinking.

"Good. Bastards," John summarized his enmity with them succinctly. "We didn't think of that when we worked the thing to make the ships offload 'cargo'. They were human, too. Well, thereabouts."

"Thereabouts," Rodney agreed quietly. He wandered back with the plates in his hands and slid one towards John. "Okay. I think I'm back together now."

John just gestured his thanks. "It's okay if you're not. I spent most of the last year falling to pieces with degrees of success."

"Yeah?" Rodney made a question out of his agreement, prodding for embellishment as he reached for the first piece of pizza.

"Yeah." John decided Rodney should know a little, even if he didn't dare raise his hopes. "There was this weapon, and..." He grimaced a little. He didn't know how to explain it. "One of those you would've hung a 'Don't Touch or Die' sign on."

He took a piece of pizza and ate it. "It did weird things to me. Not really sure what it was doing. I just didn't die when I should've."

"Because of it?" Rodney asked. He folded his slice in half down the middle, took a bite, then batted Zed away from the box. "No, pizza isn't for kitties."

John considered a moment and then put down his half-eaten slice. The easiest way to get it across was maybe to show him some of what had been left behind. "Hold on a moment, I'll just show you," he said as he pulled off his top. To someone from Pegasus, the marks on his chest were a sign of death, horrible and terrifying. And it wasn't there just once or twice, but many times.

Whose stupid idea had this been again? Oh yes, his. It was official and he was sure that if certain people had been around, they would've gloated that he was finally admitting he had a death wish. But what else could they do? The Queens didn't die like the rest of them; and they could convert or breed new Wraith if they lived.

He'd been right. They were human enough to gloat, human enough to see an advantage. He'd allowed himself to be betrayed and captured. Sure enough, the Queen wanted to torture him, feed from him. No surprises there, but that didn't help when she plunged her hand into his chest. He knew then why every Wraith victim screamed. It was intensely violating. Like dying over and over in each second by some unholy rape, and it had been a gamble because he felt the skin pull taut and frail. And then she let go and hissed at him. Hissed as he shuddered and the rush inside of him reversed the effects in front of her eyes, leaving him panting but able to meet her eye with a defiance he had to reach for.

Rechargeable dinners. A prize worthy of taking to the Queen Hive. That was the plan, if it could be called a plan rather than him going insane. Especially when he let her take the memory, as if ripped unwillingly of the Hoffans refuge and that they had done this, they were like this, those who had not become Wraith-proof. The others had ... this.

Lies, all lies. But everything was about that lie. Teyla had used her limited telepathy to implant it deep in his head, and they'd bought it. Swallowed the story along with his life. He was taken to the Queen Hive and, oh God! It was too much. Hands on him, pushing into him through the flesh. He was laid out like some victory feast for all of them at the end, and when they started taking, he'd started taking right back. It was like something tearing him apart. He wasn't going to survive this, but if he didn't stay alive long enough, that would be it.

So he burned and burned and burned with the energy. They screamed in his mind, in his head, as he killed them one by one, burning burning burning ...

Burnt out.

Rodney sucked in a breath and went quiet. "You don't look any older, John. Well, a couple of years. Are you resistant?" Like Ronon, he meant.

"No. Not resistant, just rechargeable, I guess," John didn't look at the marks. "That was the weapon. But when all the Queens ..." He shrugged a little. "Ronon and Teyla came after me, after they'd all had a go, and we killed them. The Hoffan, the ones left, were all crazy. We had this virus that they took and when they were cocooned, they gave it to the ships. But the Queens had an adaptive thing going on, so we had to take them out." He shrugged. "It fried me inside and out. When they found me, I was bleeding from pretty much everywhere and had lots of internal damage. "

"So they left you with the, uh, kids?" Rodney guessed, gesturing a little.

"Told them to. Looked like I only had a couple of hours, tops," John shrugged. " They left, the kids capped the gate, and I didn't die. Just spent the bits of time I was coherent wondering if that was a good thing."

"Is it a good thing now?"

"Well, yeah. I made it home. You and Carson are here, you're happy, and I'm betting he's not giving up on you just yet." John replied, shifting his shirt back on.

"No," Rodney agreed. "He's not. He has a whole line of unlikely options, and ..." There was a shrug of his shoulders. Rodney took another big bite of pizza, eyeing John as if he could see beneath the shirt.

"Give him credit. He's pulled off some pretty unlikely things before," John replied. "Turning me out of being a bug, for one."

"And accidentally leading you to be turned into one," Rodney pointed out. "No, no, he really kept me from walking myself right into a culling beam. I know he's brilliant, and if anyone can, it'll be him. I'm not particularly fond of hosting a symbiote, though"

"Hosting a ... uh, yeah. Yeah, I think I'm with you on that one," John replied ."Having someone able to take over your body and head is not something I'd want forever."

"It doesn't help that they're the good Go'auld, but it worked for Colonel Carter's father. Carson bats the idea around, but..."

"Right." John considered this. "Right, but.... maybe. There should be something. I mean, the ancients were advanced. Point me in the direction of a Go'auld sarcophagus, and I'll get it for you."

He hadn't expected Rodney to choke on his pizza when he suggested that. "Are you crazy?!"

He thought it was a sensible suggestion. "What? They might make you temporarily... uh. Well, they heal things, right?"

With side effects.

"Because I really want to become like Ford," Rodney scoffed, looking at what was left of his pizza, and giving another cough. "No, no, that's just ... no."

John became silent. Ford was not someone he wanted to think about. He was dead, and in the end, he'd killed him when he thought he was going to save him. "Then something else?"

"There's a stasis field, but it needs a power source. I've actually come pretty far on translating ZPMs back to earth-usefulness. I'm so close to refilling the ones we have." He gestured with a piece of crust and took another swig of beer.

"Hey, you're the genius." John ate his bit of pizza thoughtfully. "You can do it. You need anything lit up, I'm your guy. Or if you just want someone to bug you when you should be working, I can do that, too."

"I miss having you bug me in my lab. It's an office now, but it's still pretty good." Rodney intercepted Zed again from the pizza box and grabbed her to leave her on his lap. "So, courses at the university?"

"Guess they're worried I might plot world domination or something if I don't keep busy," John replied, letting himself ramble a little. "So I've been signed up whether I like it or not."

Would McKay be there when he started courses? Would he even be alive?

It seemed unlikely that Rodney could just die, just not be there anymore, but Rodney had said as much. On the other hand, Rodney had always been a bit of a drama queen, whimpering over splinters. "When you find out who you've got, I'll tell you dirty stories about them."

"Great. Geeks have the best gossip," John teased a little. He couldn't really take it on board that Rodney was going to die. That was just ridiculous. "Anyone I wouldn't want to be a TA for?"

"Henderson," Rodney told him decisively, gesturing at John to grab another piece. "Definitely. He smells like pea soup and skid marks."

"Are you sure you are not secretly twelve?" John asked. "Pea soup and skid marks? Rodney, come on."

It was a distracting topic. After the emotional roller coaster of the evening already, this was going to be easy. Old territory, familiar and genuinely distracting. Tomorrow, he'd start looking into ways of reactivating what that ancient device had given him, just in case there wasn't another option.

Just in case Rodney wasn't exaggerating again.

"No, I'm serious! You meet him, and then tell me that I'm wrong!"

Carson still couldn't believe that Rodney had managed to blurt out pretty much every secret they had, all in the space of one evening. Or maybe it was John just having that effect on him, like he did on most people.

But as a result of the information that Rodney garbled about John, he had him back in the SGC for a very thorough medical, technically to try and alleviate John's neurological problems. John was a distracting person to examine when he was practically naked and watching him disconcertingly.

"So, how is he?" he asked as he was taking pictures of the feeding scars for analysis.

Carson had been fairly sure that he was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions of John, and not the other way around. He took another photograph, then turned away to get a dish to scrape a small skin sample into. "Rodney, you mean?"

"Yeah, Rodney. I need ... I'd like to know how bad it is," John replied, allowing him to do what he wanted. John had always been like that. He just let him do what needed to be done as if it wasn't a big deal. On the other hand, he knew anyone with this sort of damage was going to have issues. People nearly died from the trauma and shock of it all just once. This was ridiculous. John should be dead and if not dead, then with a lot more issues than he seemed to have.

Issues that perhaps he wasn't talking about to anyone, or dealing with at all. Wraith feedings were traumatic and Carson was sure that there was some unexplored mental component to the feeding process. Something that caused a psychic backlash in the few survivors.

"He, uh..." Carson didn't want to say it, didn't want to say it aloud, but John was looking at him. He made the mistake of glancing at John while he took his skin sample. "His leukemia has come back in a fairly acute form. We'd thought that the bone marrow transplant from his sister had cured him."

"How long?" It was similar to how he assessed information and odds in the field to determine strategy. It was information that broke Carson every moment he allowed himself to think of it.

So he tried to not give the flustered answer that was on his tongue-tip. "I'm not exactly sure. The radiation therapy that killed off his bone marrow left him weaker, but ..." He closed the sample tray, fingers tight on plastic. "A few months."

That got him a sharp look. "A few months?" John's eyes were intense as he stared at him. "Only months?"

Only months, and when Rodney started to go downhill, it would be fast and unpleasant. He wasn't sure if Rodney would stand it once the medicines made it hard to think and concentrate. He had to find an answer. That was there bloody well was for it.

"Months. It's blown out his immune system, and Rodney... " Rodney was angry, but resigned to it. Carson needed him not to be resigned to it, not to be giving up already. "I think he's just happy that his hair grew back."

"But you've got a lead on something, right? Some retrovirus thing or something?"

Dear God, this was worse than he thought. Now John had faith in him, but he didn't have anything. Everything he came up had a big flaw. The way it was in Rodney's system, if it was removed, Rodney would die in agony pretty much immediately. If he was lucky. He couldn't get someone to use the Go'auld devices, and nanotech would have the same problem. He might be able to program them to kill cancer cells, but if they didn't regenerate the cells which they couldn't that was the equivalent of gouging out big, internal lumps everywhere.

"I..." Carson shook his head. He didn't particularly want to look at John's face as he spoke. "I haven't been able to come up with a way to get rid of the cancer and not kill Rodney."

He felt rather than heard a reaction. "So what's your best lead?" John asked eventually, breaking the stillness. "Is there something we need to get, something we can do?"

Rodney had told him about John offering up ridiculous possibilities.

The sarcophagus, for one. "The stasis chamber. I still hope that the Tok'ra need a host, but..." But. There were drugs that could pinpoint all sorts of cancer, but nothing Carson could use with Rodney. "I wish I could go through the database."

"The one in your head?" John asked, eyes narrowing with thought. "Why haven't you? No one willing? Wouldn't Rodney do it?"

No, there were just too many other things they wanted to ask in the maximum allotted time.

"Rodney ..." How to explain it? "Rodney doesn't like to activate it at all. He accidentally activated it while we were Christmas shopping, and he nearly had a nervous breakdown. It's not something I'd ask him to do. And the SGC has a different list of priorities."

"I don't." John offered it as if it were a simple, obvious solution. "We both have pretty much the same priorities, right? If you trust me."

It was such a simple solution. And it was true. John was one of the only people on Earth who seemed to care about Rodney's life with the same intensity that he did.

There was no doubting the honesty of the sentiment. There was still something there between them, and there always had been. A friendship, in the very least. "I trust you, John. But we'd need to find a way for Rodney not to know about it. I'd prefer not to see him panic."

"Are you kidding? Rodney is pretty much throwing the two of us together," John replied, leaning back. "Give him a lead in; he'll think of a way to put the two of us on our own."

He cleared his throat. "Carson, you know you don't have anything to worry about, right? Not from me."

"I don't?" He had quite a bit to worry about, if he was honest. Rodney needed him too much, and he was possibly too stubborn to do that. But John was temptation personified, and Carson knew most of what had happened to him.

"Rodney is with you. I owe both of you. Yeah, I'd be lying if I said I didn't care, but..." John gave a relaxed shrug. "I'm not working on breaking you up. I'm more like keeping you together."

"I'd just like for him to be happy, and to see the end of his natural lifespan. It'd be quite a bit longer than it would have been a few years ago." Because Carson didn't let Rodney have junk too often and he didn't let him subsist on coffee, stress, and powerbars.

Carson reached for John's chart. "All right. We'll get him out of the house sometime and do that. Now can I make the rest of this appointment about you, John?"

"If you like," John grinned at him. "I thought you guys had done all your tests. Not that I mind, but..."

"The tests come back clean, but we're not using an Ancient scanner. I'm afraid our treatments will have to be symptomatic for you," Carson pointed out gently. It would end up being whatever controlled the neurological symptoms with side effects that least bothered John.

"It's been a lot better since I've been back," John volunteered, still smiling. He recognized that smile. It meant that John didn't really want to talk about it and was pretending to offer information so no one would know.

There were too many unanswered questions. Whatever it was, it managed to extend life. That much was obvious from the fact John was still alive, and he was very interested in how that worked.

"That doesn't answer the question of what exactly is going on with you. What your symptoms, exactly? I can see from the chart that you have tremors, perhaps seizures."

"I'm fried. I pushed a bit of Ancient tech to the limit, and I broke before it did," John replied with a shrug. "Like I said, I'm much better now, but after Ronon and Teyla left me, I was, well, barely conscious for weeks. "

"On the planet of the, well, with the kids. They aren't really kids now that they're growing up, are they? They took care of you during that time?"

"Yeah, they did their best," John was looking at him, "considering I was pretty much crippled for a lot of the time. Look, I gave the symptoms before. I was bleeding from pretty much everywhere when I got there. That went on ... well, on and off for a long time. I was tired to the point of passing out. I got migraines that made me throw up, curl up in a ball under a blanket, and not move for days. I have painful muscle spasms and sometimes, just for fun, I have everything all at once, like some weird-ass sort of seizure. The kids did what they could and did what I could to help them. No one asked them if they wanted to deal with me all that time."

"Elizabeth said that Keras had called it an honor." Among other things that Carson suspected John already knew. "Whatever they did for you, they kept you alive."

"Yeah." John looked away as if he wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing, but then he smiled a little. "But that was the whole legend thing talking, not the reality. Keras helped a lot. The roasted flying squirrels, though? Not so much."

Evasion and answers which were truthful but didn't say too much. Carson knew those tactics.

He knew them, and yet he didn't know what to do about them. There was no way to shake John and make him be completely honest with Carson. "Do you remember anything that calmed the seizures?"

"It got worse if I got frustrated. They kept giving me some sort of calmative tea that they mixed for the younger ones with nightmares." John grimaced a little. "Just a little bit of a bad comparison there. I'm guessing it was mild tranquilizers or relaxants. Too much of it had me rolling around, hallucinating some pretty wild things. If I was having seizures then, I wasn't noticing."

"Relaxants we can try. It's a bit of, well, voodoo to work out the exact dosage and what would work best for you. Are you willing to try it?"

John shrugged. "You think they'll allow me to drive or fly again?" he asked. Again, he sounded like he was pretty sure what the answer was going to be ... which depended on understanding what was wrong and what could fix it. That he didn't know.

"It's a possibility. But until we can predict the causes of the seizures, it's unlikely." He threw a smile at John and added, "I guess you could spend a lot on taxi and bus fare, but I don't think there's any end to the number of people who're willing to take you places and do things for you, John."

John shrugged again as if he didn't believe it. "Finished poking at my scars, or do you want to look somewhere else?"

It made him choke a little, almost fumbling with his pen. "No, ah, no. I think I have all the samples I need. Are you sure you haven't been listening to Rodney's suggestions?"

"Just practicing," John replied with a smile that reminded him of why he'd answered with trembling "yes" when he'd offered all that time ago. They didn't talk about the difference between John and him, but where he and Rodney made love with a day-to-day pragmatic streak, John had sex like it was the end of the world, like it needed to be passionate and fiery and utterly consuming.

Carson wasn't sure how John would react to sex that was interrupted by the house pet, the telephone, or one of Rodney's "Eureka!" moments. "Well, it's ... there's plenty of hope for Rodney yet. We'll see what's possible and what isn't when you interrogate the database. I'm going to write you a prescription for Flexeril, and we'll see how that works for your spasms."

"That's great, Doc." John sat up and started pulling on his shirt. "I guess as I'm not going to be driving or flying, it doesn't matter if I don't have my edge, huh?"

"Not quite as much, no. Unlike, say, Valium, Flexeril's side effects are minimal. Are you doing anything else here at the base today, or...?" Do you need a ride, he wanted to ask.

"Nah. The General let me off more interrogation," John replied. "He told me to start getting my school books. Like that didn't make me feel like I was about ten or something."

"When you see what those books cost, you won't feel like you're ten." Carson finished writing his notes and the prescription, watching John pull his shirt back on. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Well, I could force the SGC to trail you most of the way home," John said. "That would be good. I told Rodney I'd drop in for an hour at some point, if you don't mind."

Now that was just plain odd, John asking permission to see Rodney.

"You don't have to ask my permission." It was hard for him to not scoff as he handed John the prescription. "Here, we'll get this filled for you, then I'll clock out and meet you up two levels."

"Don't let anyone turn that computer in your brain on in the meantime, okay?" John didn't say anything about the permission thing. Either he hadn't meant it or he wasn't listening to his dismissal of the subject. He took the prescription. "See you up there."

Carson smiled at John and gave him a wave as he started out of the room. "I'll be up there shortly."

He watched John leave the room. Carson only noticed the effort it took him to make his movements seem natural and controlled because he knew what to look for now. John was still a mystery. He was always going to be a bit of a mystery, but if he helped him cure Rodney, then Carson didn't care. In fact he, would step back and let them get on with it, if only Rodney stayed alive.

He was going to lose Rodney no matter what. It was better to lose him and see him happy and alive than to watch him die a slow, painful death. And maybe together, they could both be happy.

Napping wasn't a sin. Napping was a useful way for Rodney to recharge his batteries, and it was a pretty comfortable physical endeavor. He had a great sofa and a throw mysteriously appeared over the back of it so he could just sink into it and sleep. Sans pants.

The only downside of napping was that he had to get up and shake it off so he wouldn't seem sleepy at dinner. Carson had driven them to the restaurant. It wasn't upscale, but they had a booth in the back corner, and the menu had huge steaks and burgers and things on it, which was enough to inspire Rodney to be awake.

John was treating them to dinner. He said it was only fair, considering how he kept coming over, eating their food, and taking advantage of their hospitality. Truth was, John was an easy guest to have around. He brought his own beer, he paid attention, and he left when it looked like it Rodney was tired, or when Carson was looking like it was too much.

"We could've gone for Italian," John said as he sat back, looking at the menu, "but I thought you liked a good steak."

"I love a good steak," Rodney agreed. "And since spaghetti is the only thing I've made for dinner all week, steak is fantastic. You don't want the beer, though. One of my students works here, and I've heard horror stories about the kegs."

"I probably shouldn't be drinking with the drugs I've got going on," John replied with a half smile. "Nothing stronger than a soda tonight. How's the research?"

"Good, good. I'll be spending next week in the, uh ... at work, trying some things out with Colonel Carter. I finally convinced her it wouldn't jeopardize anything." He'd gotten lazy over the summer, too used to being in their house, talking about the SGC and Atlantis because he had the jammer turned on.

"You've probably got it this time, " John replied with confidence.

"Aye, he's made some significant progress. He and Jeannie have vigorous, uh, arguments pretty much daily," Carson put in.

"Discussions," Rodney corrected. "They're discussions. We just happen to be very sure we're both right. Imagine Radek and me arguing, John, except where you'd be able to understand when he called me names."

"I don't know. If Jeannie talks as fast as you, then I get this sort of impression that there should be some sort of critical mass," John answered, teasing a little.

"Well, that happens," Carson pointed out. "Around the time where Jeannie starts bringing up childhood disasters."

"We had a lot of them." And then all of those years of silence. Looking back, Rodney could see how they hurt her even though he'd meant well. He'd meant better than he'd actually acted. "You have to meet her."

"I do?" John tilted his head a little. "You think I could cope with another McKay?"

"They tend to occupy each other," Carson said. "It's pretty impressive, really." He smirked a little. "I think I'm going to have a steak. Rodney has a tendency to burn steaks and, apparently, I don't get them quite right either."

"Burning isn't the right word," Rodney sighed as he nodded. Yeah, steak was a good choice. And those potato slices. "I've tried everything. Letting them marinate overnight, rubs, sauces, different heating patterns. They're always either raw or charred, and sometimes the odd, sad instance of raw on the inside and charred on the outside."

"How the hell do you manage that? It's not rocket science. Maybe that is the problem. Tell you what, I'll cook you one sometime. That is cooking I can do."

"Manly burning of meat over a fire. Why does this not surprise me?" Carson said.

"We get special military training. Marinades are for special forces."

It was stupidly John, and it made Rodney laugh. "The apartment building has a couple of communal grills so no one sets the complex on fire. So if you're willing to come over and try..."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Amaze people with my survival skills and steak tartare preparation," John murmured.

"Like you prepare steak tartare." Carson pointed out.

"Hey, that's the genius of my skills," John replied. "The simple, yet very effective approach. When are you going to be testing next week?"

"Evenings, unfortunately. That's when the equipment won't be in use, so I can work without interfering with anything." The likelihood of an off-world team needing to come back was slimmer at night.

"I've got some stuff being delivered next week. I was going to borrow your expertise to help get it in and set up," John said. "But that's okay. I'll deal."

Carson glanced at Rodney, then at John. " Well, I know on Wednesday I won't be able to do a late shift like I'd planned for the other days. I couldn't get Alicia to change this time. She has something on in the daytime. Sorry, Rodney, I meant to tell you, but I thought I could use my charm a little more. But instead of sitting at home moping, I could help out John. Unless it was Rodney's technical skills you were after."

Oh, now that was an idea! Rodney stretched his legs a little, restless, and his knee bumped against Carson's. "That sounds like a great idea, really."

That would be Carson and John together, alone, and it wasn't like Rodney was going to be there to be either a focal point or a distraction. It was sort of perfect.

Carson turned and looked at him. "Are you sure Rodney? I mean, I'll still be back to see you home."

"I won't need him for long," John assured him. "I'm not good at moving things around on my own at the moment."

"If Carson throws his back out, you'll hear about it from me. But, yeah, it sounds like a great idea. Anyway, I'm not very useful with moving things, either, at the moment." But if he paced himself through the day, he could manage all right. He didn't feel tired if he rested and ate healthily. Oh, look, there was the waitress.

They ordered steaks all around, the best that American cuisine could throw at them. John just shrugged off any considerations of cost and ordered the best that they could get of everything, saying the Air Force owed them all a steak dinner.

"I take it from this that, basically, I am the only one who can move things?" Carson asked once they had been left alone. "I see."

"You got it," John replied. "Besides, we don't want Rodney putting his back out."

It brought a chuckle from Rodney and he bumped Carson's leg gently. "No, you really don't. I've been told by sources I won't name that I complain when my back hurts."

"Loudly," Carson said. "There was this time where he pulled a ligament when we were, uh..."

"Might be too much information, Carson," John pointed out. "Be kind to the deprived guy."

"I was going to say, 'when we were trying to fix the car'," Carson replied wagging a finger at him.

"Course you were," John drawled a little and smirked.

"It was his car," Rodney pointed out. "Before I made him buy a real one that actually, oh, runs. This thing sat in storage for, what? The better part of six years? So, of course the motor mounts decided they wanted to fall apart."

"Of course," John agreed sagely.

"It wasn't like they had any wear and tear to be worrying about. I think it's a bloody cheek saying a car is well-built when it can't handle six years of going nowhere," Carson grumbled a little.

"We had to fix it at least so drive it to a dealership and get him a new one, and I ended up getting one. But at least my old car was stolen." Rodney took a swig of his soda. "Never could figure out why anyone would steal an old Saab."

"Cars were a bit unnecessary in Antarctica," John answered as he fiddled with the cutlery. He was kneading at his leg again, absently.

"Leg giving you trouble again ,John?" Carson asked picking up on the movement.

"It's being a bit bitchy today," John excused. "I'm just going to walk a moment, try and stretch it out before our dinner gets here. No public displays of affection," he admonished them and smiled as he stood. "At least, not until I'm back."

"Huh. It used to be ,you would have had me promise to not eat your food on you. Then again, the service is comfortably slow here, so I'm sure we'll still be on sodas when you get back." It was hard for Rodney not to watch John too intently when he got up. A little spike of worry rose because John was still a stoic, and for him to actually complain, well.

He watched as John moved a little stiffly away, still smiling, still managing to flirt with the waitresses.

"Hmm. Guess that means the Flexeril isn't really doing the job," Carson commented. "Assuming he's taken them. He can be a bloody idiot sometimes."

"He can," Rodney agreed, leaning back against the back of the booth. "So. Furniture?"

"Well, I can move it around without hurting myself, and I'm not convinced that he can," Carson said reasonably. "You are okay with that, aren't you? It's either do that or be on the end of the phone when he ends up pinned under a wardrobe or something."

It was hard to not nudge Carson in the ribs more than he already was. "I'm great with it. I'm glad you're comfortable spending time with him."

"We had a wee talk the other day," Carson admitted. "He told me about not trying to interfere. I believe him, but I still think the pair of you have unresolved things. Maybe you should do something to resolve them."

"We talked about what happened a couple of weeks ago," Rodney shrugged. "It was a run-of-the-mill clusterfuck. I'm not sure what's left unresolved."

"I don't really know. Any tension between you. He is really worried about you, Rodney," Carson said, putting his hand on his leg as he leaned a little nearer. "So am I."

"I'm worried about me, too." It didn't sound as joking as he'd hoped it would, but Rodney liked the feeling of Carson's hand on his leg like that. "I didn't want to get up from my nap earlier."

"The medicines can do that to you," Carson soothed. "It's not that surprising. You do more than you should, anyway."

"If I do less, I'll go crazy." He jammed a leg out, stretching it. "Anyway, this is nice. Getting out is nice."

"We can do more of it if you want," Carson said. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to be in public as much, but we can do whatever you want. You know that, right?"

"I have all my hair this time," Rodney pointed out. He just didn't know what he wanted to do that was actually... out. He liked his time with Carson and his time with John, and really, that was satisfying for him.

Carson patted his shoulder just as their order was brought over. John made a slow and lazy way back to the table. "I have good timing," John said as he slipped into the seat again.

"Some would say suspiciously good, John," Carson pointed out.

"Always has been." Rodney took another swig of his soda and pulled his legs back under him so John had room. "Legs feel better?"

"Yeah, just a bit of cramp," John dismissed the problem lightly. "Nothing that putting my legs behind my head in the restroom didn't cure." He smirked a little at the both of them as Carson nearly choked on his water.

It set Rodney to laughing. There was the actual mental picture, and then there was the one the smirk implied. Yeah, John was probably still agile enough to give himself a lick if he wanted, and that was still an unsettlingly hot thought. "Wow, sounds like we missed all the fun."

"Hey, ask the guys with the camcorder for copies," John replied easily. "Apparently, I have star quality. Who'd've thought, huh?"

Rodney sat back a little, eyeing John and his plate before he picked up his silverware. "I would have. Trust me, you still have that quality."

"Rodney, that sounded suspiciously like a compliment," John replied, raising his eyebrows.

"He specializes in suspicious compliments," Carson added.

"I still specialize in stealing French fries, so you should watch out," Rodney warned them both, wielding his knife before he attacked the steak with it. If he cut it up all at once, he'd at least be able to enjoy it.

"Better get on with the eating," John said. "Rodney is threatening my food. He used to steal my desserts back at the base."

"Aye well, that is something Rodney excels at," Carson added.

"Being an asshole about desserts?" He popped a steak fry into his mouth, and oh fuck! It was hot, hot, too hot!

"Rodney, I thought you'd learned not to do that by now," John smirked. He seemed to be relishing his own meal.

"I think he thinks someone is going to take them off of him," Carson replied. "We have food issues."

"Food issues," Rodney laughed, mouth half-open before he drowned the fry with a gulp of soda. Okay, that was bearable. "We have food issues, sleep issues, personal space issues, and any other kind of issue you can think of."

"How about issues with day time TV?" John asked seriously. "Because, you know something? It really sucks. I mean, worse than I remember."

Carson coughed again. "We could probably develop some given time."

"I've had time," Rodney deadpanned. He nudged Carson with his knee gently. "I have issues with the morning talkshow hosts. I started out trying to have it on as background noise, but they're maddeningly stupid."

"I feel so left out," Carson said mournfully.

"Sorry, Carson, looks like Rodney and I are going to the support group alone." John replied. "Rodney, shouting at the TV is healthy. The TV shouting back probably isn't."

"It hasn't started shouting back." Rodney bit a piece of his steak. Okay, that wasn't mouth-burning; it was soft and good. Perfect. "Yet."

"Then we should be in time," John replied. "Of course, the support group is only me and you at the moment, and it may involve watching some TV together. You think you can handle that?"

Carson looked half bemused and half amused by John's lighter approach to things. "Are you sure you are taking the right prescription, John?" he asked.

And even if he wasn't, Rodney didn't particularly want him to find the right one. "Yeah, yeah, sure. They're the pills with the smiley face on them, right?"

"Right," John agreed with that smile. He shouldn't find it so attractive. It was hard to shake because he'd seen that smile turn around more disasters than anything else. "I think one of them might've been winking at me, as well."

"You'll be wanting to stay clear of those, then," Carson said through a mouthful.

"Particularly if it keeps moving and winking at you," Rodney agreed while he stabbed another piece of steak. "Of course, if you find one that does that, I'd like to meet the pill that defies physics."

"Maybe it's making you believe it defies physics," John replied. "Speaking of that, what classes do you teach again?"

Rodney knew what Carson was thinking as he remained silent a moment before answering. That the odds were he'd never be teaching ever again. "Normally? I have a couple of grad classes and one or two under graduate courses. Different fields, different levels. But, uh..."

"I think I've accidentally chosen some of your grad courses," John said, shrugging a little with a smile. "Calc, physics, and engineering. You never know, I might start designing planes."

Except for the fact that he wouldn't be teaching them. "Hey, who better to work on the next generation of planes than someone who flew them and knows what they should do? Particularly since you've already flown said next generation."

"Yeah, but they could do with a bit more of a cool factor, you know?" John said.

"I think you're mad. I was always terrified I was going to crash the damn things," Carson said.

"Carson, you were terrified you were going to destroy or crash whatever it was you were touching. It could have been a pillow and you would have panicked if it had the right, uh..." Too far to take that conversation in public. "Uh, vibrations. No, that sounds wrong."

"You were a pretty decent pilot, Carson," John put in. "You flew in the middle of a hurricane. That's a helluva test. "

"Look, I have this thing with technology. I ruin it. Should I remind you of what happened the first time we met, hmm?"

"It was just the warm sort of welcome I was used to," John replied as he ate another mouthful.

"Carson doesn't throw bombs at every cute guy he hasn't met yet," Rodney agreed around another sip of soda. "You should be flattered. He spilled beer on my shoes when I met him."

"You grabbed me by the shoulder," Carson protested. "I was a wee bit jumpy."

"I can imagine," said John. "So what happened then?"

"What happened then," Rodney set his drink down and picked up another fry, "was that I made a complete asshole of myself. But it involved snow, so I might as well tell you."

This wasn't the first time they had done this, and John was starting to get the hang of querying the database in Carson's head. Rodney was all too eager for them to spend time together and never once was suspicious of the time they spent "moving furniture", or "driving John to see his specialist", or any of other lame excuses they had come up with.

He supposed a byproduct had been steps towards what Rodney actually wanted, the two of them becoming closer. But they were both very focused on saving Rodney rather than on each other. Carson loved Rodney so much that he wasn't sure what would happen if they didn't come up with something.

So, they were here again in his apartment, Carson lying on John's couch. John had decided that he was going to pillow the Scot's head in his lap so he could have some human contact as they went through the process.

"Comfortable?" he asked as they settled into position.

"Quite, thank you. We never do it this way at the base," Carson chuckled a little. He closed his eyes and folded his hands on his chest. Like he was settling in for a nap, John guessed. If Rodney caught them like that, he'd probably crow with glee. John had never in his life met anyone so happy to be lining up his supposed "replacement".

It was a little bit disturbing because he'd pretty much resigned himself to being John, the good buddy in both their lives. "That's good. I thought you'd be able to see me at least like this," he replied. "Are you ready? I've got the list of questions. I think we covered most of the in-depth medical ones, though."

"I know. Just poke around. If you want to diverge from the list, do. Maybe an answer will spark something ..." Or something. Carson peered up at him and nodded. "Go on."

"Okay." He took a breath, said, "Kenmore-oh-six," and watched the change come over Carson almost immediately. He stroked Carson's hair a moment, knowing what it was like to have something else commanding your body even though he was conscious. "Are you ready to answer questions?"

"Database activated." That was as close to a yes as he was going to get.

"What healing technology did the Ancients possess? No, cancel question. Give me examples of Ancient healing techniques capable of curing cancer," John said, stopping himself from asking too broad a question.

"Too many terms returned. Clarify question. Suggested clarification categories: benign, metastasized, necrotizing."

God, what had Carson told him? "Metastasized cancers of the blood. Specify Ancient artifacts capable of inducing a cure or leading to a cure," he said. You had to be so careful what you said. It could be very frustrating. They recorded the sessions so they wouldn't keep Carson in the altered state for any longer than necessary.

And even with all of those precautions, he knew that Rodney would have flipped out to catch him doing this with Carson. Though if they'd been having sex, he probably would have a different reaction.

"Two records found. Physicality transponder. Deviant stage of Ascension."

Only two. Well ,that narrowed it down. "Deviant stage of Ascension would be ... huh, that would be what Teer and the others in Sanctuary had, " he murmured aloud. "Describe a 'physicality transponder'."

"Confers upon a holder of the key gene a controlled monitoring and alteration of signals related to the physical state and correct way to attend to the physical state by the holder."

"Okay," John mentally rearranged the sentence in his head. Someone with Ancient genes getting the ability to sense and then alter the physical state in themselves, and presumably in others. "What does a physicality transponder look like?"

"It is a simplistic carbon-metal alloy, curved-edged box. Picture is available with interface of display screen."

"Which we don't have," but he remembered the box.

Last leg of the trail. He had navigated the booby-trapped hillside. There was no damn cover out there, and the Warrior Monks obviously thought it was all in the spirit of fair play to shoot arrows at him and roll large rocks in his general direction. One had caught him, tearing across his back as he twisted out of the way and leaving a bloody gash in its wake. The blood was sticking his top to his back, making him wish it wasn't so important he finish this damn thing.

But it would make them one of the Brotherhood. Even if there was no weapon or great Ancient Secret, the Atlantis refugees needed all the allies they could get. He pushed himself up, seeing a group of six Warrior Monks waiting to form the last obstacle. They would deny him entrance to the temple carved out of stone beyond if he could not weather their attacks. He couldn't help but think that Teyla and Ronon had already run this course, and if there was something to be had, then he could just assume they would've gotten it. Teyla and Ronon were better at hand-to-hand than he was, he knew that. He knew his limitations and they had to be more careful. There was no Carson to patch them up, no Rodney to pull last-minute solutions out of thin air.

He was so focused on his internal thoughts that he walked the gauntlet, barely troubled by the blows that knocked him down. He got up, ignoring all of the pain because that's what he had to do every day: find a way to go on without fulfilling his promise to keep them safe, never to apologize for what he had and hadn't done. He knew all about living with pain.

Somehow, he was inside. He hadn't noticed how he got there, his head hazy from the enforced fasting and exertion. The Warrior Monks were lined up, flanking either side of a stone altar where bowls of herbs, smelling like dried sage, billowed a thick, pungent smoke. They were chanting and he stood there thinking, All that for this. All that effort for a chance to bow at the altar of an unknown god.

Teyla was there, the dark smudge of bruising on her face. She was concerned for him as she stepped forward on one side with Ronon on the other to escort him to the altar.

"There is a strange box John," she whispered. "The reward is to touch the box, a sacred relic of the Ancients. Ronon and I have done so, as have the other novice monks who have run this day, but there is nothing."

"Great," he managed. Perhaps the alliance then, if they had become part of the Brotherhood.

"Doesn't look like any type of weapon," Ronon rumbled in a low voice beside him as they approached the steps to the altar. "Dead end."

A dead end he'd sent them on, risked their lives for, and here all three of them were bruised and bleeding with nothing to show for it. Still, might as well see this through.

He stepped up to the altar and the chanting cut off into a breathless silence as he steadied his hands. Then, with all the fake ceremony he could muster, he placed them palm down on the "sacred box".

Nothing. The metal was cool and there was a sigh as he went to lift his hands and could not. He twisted, feeling an unreasoning panic, but before he could call out to anyone, there it was! Light blazed from the box, going up his arms, filling his head, singing with noise, bright and unforgiving as it changed ... and changed things inside of him irrevocably.

By the time the light was gone, he was lying on the floor shaking and weak. His cuts and bruises were gone. The Warrior Monks were chanting some ecstatic, weird hymn about the Chosen One. Teyla and Ronon reached to help him and there was a terrifying rush. He could remember Teyla's eyes opening wide as they touched, and in a flood of energy, her injuries were gone, as well.

And he had no idea who or what he was anymore

"Explain what it needs to work." His "healing thing" was obviously broken from too much strain, too much energy drained from him. Carson would just think he was following a lead.

"Question unclear. New query?"

"Uh," Damn. He needed to think. "What factors does a physicality transponder need to be able to function, aside from the Ancient gene?"

He couldn't ask, Why the hell doesn't mine work now, just when I need it?

"Environmental factors. The presence of naquadah in a user's bloodstream serves as a conduit in immaturely evolved key gene holders. Other requirements are oxygen, carbon dioxide, and other life-sustaining components of the air mixture on inhabitable planets."

Naquadah, huh? He hadn't known that. Carson had made some mention of minute amounts of the substance building up over time during their stay in Atlantis, but it was going to take decades for it to reach anything like a significant level. They could only measure it with the Ancient scanners anyway. "Would the presence of naquadah in the bloodstream of someone with metastasizing cancer and the Ancient gene assist in a cure?"

"Inconclusive. No data entered. Premise untested."

"Well, I guess that is not a 'no'," John replied. "Are there any other artifacts that may not be of Ancient origin, or natural substances that could be used to cure metastasizing cancer?"

"Plant species on Doranda used by Tau'ri had regenerative properties. Treatment included continuous use of plant in refined form."

"Well, that would've been something if we hadn't blown the planet up," John murmured and sighed a little as he gave some of the stock questions Carson had requested. "Would it be possible to program nanites to simultaneously remove cancerous material and rebuild healthy cells without killing the affected patient?"

"Technique was attempted in cases of necrosis and necrotic cancers. Success rate of 71%, technique viable in life-or-death cases. Failure occurred when cancerous cells had propagated in spinal fluid and blood supply flowing to brain."

Well, that was one for Carson. He asked a few more technical questions, his mind still on what he could possibly do. Naquadah. What could he do, chew on a Stargate? Maybe Carson could think of something. Maybe he should just offer himself up for experimentation or something.

It took some time, and by the end of it, John wasn't any the wiser about whether there was an answer. He stroked Carson's hair absently and then said "Database, deactivate please."

There was that moment where Carson went still, dead still, before he sucked in a gasp of breath and his body convulsed just into relaxation. "Oh, God! Why did it have to be Doranda?"

"Easy, easy," John said trying to soothe him through that transition. "Because that's the sort of luck we have. Let's not tell Rodney that, huh?"

Rodney would have a very typical Rodney-type reaction to that and he really didn't think that needed revisiting.

It was so far in the past, and Rodney didn't need to know that, didn't need the guilt dragged up again. He was upbeat and seemed to be coping with everything that'd happened, and they didn't need to set him backwards. "That's the sort of luck we have," Carson agreed.

"It wasn't all negative, though, " John replied. "There was a chance with the nanites, though I didn't get all the differences between necrotizing and metastasizing. And that thing about the naquadah, facilitating healing in people with the Ancient gene."

"I think necrotizing might be how they refer to things such as necrotizing myelopathy. Maybe they had enough of a problem with it that they developed specific treatment regimes for it specifically. The naquadah, though. We'd need someone who'd come into contact with that particular artifact for it to be of any worth, wouldn't we?" Carson asked, looking up at John, head still in his lap.

He hoped not because he'd hate to have to tell Carson that he'd burnt out Rodney's last chance. "Maybe. It did say there hadn't been any research done on what would happen with naquadah without the artifact. I mean, they are doing stuff with colloidal silver here, aren't they?"

He'd been reading everything he could get his hands on to try and find something. He absently massaged at Carson's neck, knowing the experience made him stiff and sore.

Carson shifted his shoulders and sighed. "Aye. I could requisition a little, refine it, and see what might work with it."

"Maybe we could get a message to the Daedalus, see if they could track down something like that physicality transponder," John said. It was all coming down to time now. He knew the problem with the nanites would be the time it took to make, program, and effect them. The same with the naquadah. "You get some of that naquadah, and I'll act as your guinea pig. I've got some weird resistance to damage."

"I've noticed that." And then there was noticing, except that Carson's voice seemed suddenly very knowing. "I wonder why that is."

"Told you, an artifact," John replied. "You want to do tests on me? I'm on board with that. If it will help. It kept me alive when the Wraith Queens were feeding on me. Maybe there is something that can keep Rodney alive there, as well."

All true, just missing out the heady months beforehand when he could heal people. Back before he accidentally created the thing that would destroy the Wraith, and they had the intelligence from the Grantherians about the adaptive abilities of the Queens that had lead to his "capture".

"Maybe." There was still a furrow between Carson's eyebrows. "I've got some things to think on. That artifact that came up, the transponder."

"It's something," John replied. He continued the massage, then looked down at Carson. "How long do we have now?"

He couldn't stop himself from asking. They did this every time and every time, it jolted him. "Realistically? Rodney's energy levels are starting to drop dramatically. I don't think he'll make it to the end of October, to be honest." Three months or so, then. Rodney seemed so healthy, still, but John saw him in small doses. He wasn't sure what Rodney did after he left or before he came.

"But he's nearly got the ZPM recharger thing going, and if they can put him in stasis, you'll have time to perfect something. Or find something," John suggested. Time to go back to Pegasus, see if he could find another one of those things.

And get it to someone who had a clue about what they were doing. Carson closed his eyes for a moment and nodded to John. "If they can put him in stasis, then we have a great deal more time."

"He'll do it. He'll find a way to do it," John reassured him, rubbing at his neck and shoulders a little more. "And I mean it about those tests. You need to get some decent sleep, too. You won't be able to help if you are falling apart, as well."

"And what makes you think that I haven't been getting decent sleep?" He asked the question lightly and moved a little to let John keep massaging.

"Maybe the bit where you look worse than Rodney does?" John answered, tilting his head a little. "Besides, it's got to be stressful for you. Ten times more stressful than it is for me. Trying to do everything."

"Rodney's always been a little high-maintenance," Carson smiled. "I'm actually used to it. It's just frustrating that I can't fix him."

"Yeah, well, he's worth it," he said in a soft voice. "So, you ready to help me move my bedroom around so we don't have to lie to Rodney later?"

"He thinks we're having sex, you know." Carson cracked his eyes open, looking up at John with a little less mirth. "Or something thereabouts. He slipped a condom in my wallet."

Somehow that hurt, and he didn't know why it hurt so much. "Not that the thought isn't a good one, but I'm thinking you're still seeing me as more of a bad guy and I don't think you would be comfortable with that sort of thing."

"I enjoy your company, John, and you're a good man. I don't see you as a bad guy, but really love Rodney. I don't think I've ever felt so strongly about anyone else in my life, but he seems to think he can just be replaced. It bothers me."

"It bothers me because that's not like the Rodney McKay I know," John replied. "The irreplaceable one of us all. But maybe that didn't work for relationships and him." He looked over at the other wall a moment. "I pretty much used you, Carson, after Rodney. I shouldn't've done that to you. It's a cliche, but you really did deserve better."

"You were hurting, and I let you. It perhaps wasn't what I should have done for you, John, but we can't take it back. I think you should understand that he still loves you and holds you in very high regard. I suppose it's a strange compliment that he thinks you're good enough to replace him like that. It's not quite the old Rodney, no, but Kolya got into his head and never really left." Carson stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. Yeah, they'd probably just end up moving the sofa and the coffee table.

"I should've killed that bastard when I had the chance," John replied. "I didn't plan it like that, the thing with you. I just wanted someone who seemed to be interested in me, and you seemed interested. And you are definitely someone I like."

He didn't know why he was bothering explaining. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that."

"I appreciate knowing that." Carson sat up a little. "Oof, hold on. I think I need to sit up before my back goes."

John helped him sit. As apologies went, it was pretty weak, but it wasn't likely to get any better because that had been the truth of it. He'd been sure that it had to be true, that Rodney had moved on and wasn't the type to do things consciously in revenge. But he was the type to flirt and to push a "maybe" into a "yes" to try and forget that somewhere along the line, he'd blown something really good.

"Better? You want me to do your back? You go home stiff and Rodney might work out what we have been doing."

"He probably would," Carson noted wryly. He turned his back to John a little. "If you could, please. I've gotten spoiled with this sort of treatment."

John smirked a little. "Well, you can thank Teyla for teaching us all about keeping muscles flexible." And this was as close as he was getting to human contact now, anyway. He took his time, feeling a little guilty for taking enjoyment out of the innocent offer.

Hell, who was he kidding? He couldn't pull off innocent no matter what he wanted nor his true intentions. Carson had a life full of Rodney. Rodney had a life full of Carson. And he had a life with not a lot left in it except these friends... and the prospect of never doing anything he wanted to do ever again. So the friends got everything he had.

It was that or go slowly insane. "I'm sure she's teaching it to a whole new group of people who have stressed muscles."

"Yeah." He smoothed out the muscles under his thumbs gently, wishing his legs, arms, and body would relax as easily when they knotted up. He could push it. He probably could push Carson, but that would just be wrong. No, he'd see if Carson could get some naquadah. Maybe then he could tell him about what had happened, really happened and see if he could fix him, or replicate the effects. Once Rodney had worked out the ZPM, recharged the stasis pod, they'd have time to do all of that.

And he could keep on being a good friend for Carson, and maybe he could somehow lead to everything being fixed. If he could get Rodney healthy, then it could at least make up for some of what had happened with the Genii and before. Carson deserved someone like Rodney and Rodney deserved to keep living, to be with someone who wasn't such a fuck-up with relationships as John was.

The setup was the hardest part of it. Sitting at his desk, wiring and testing, checking the wires with his mind until, no, no, he couldn't quite talk right anymore, but it didn't matter. He wanted everything perfect, wanted all of the connections between the drained ZPM and the gate to be just right, plug and play, and he needed the system to be reusable, not just a one-time thing.

It was the late shift at the SGC and somewhere upstairs, Sam was double-checking computer code and the immensely complex series of algorithmic process he and Jeannie had come up with to stabilize a "pocket universe", as John insisted on calling it. It all came down to this, something portable and sleek that would clip onto the Stargate itself, then a ZPM could be slotted in like a rechargeable battery.

It was perfect. Perfect and ideal because it could be taken to any Stargate and it could act as a booster power source for those pesky intergalactic wormholes. That was a lot of freedom, and one stasis pod was not much to ask as payment.

He was getting really tired now. It was getting so hard. Harder than he thought was possible.

He wasn't used to being tired. It was like that time he had mono. All he wanted to do was lay down and sleep, and his arms felt heavy. He was so used to having endless energy, to being able to just go and do, and when he got tired, take something and do more. Now he got out of bed, drank coffee until his mind cleared, and then ended up napping away the afternoon just so he could be awake for the tests. He tapped his radio once he had it ready to take over to the Stargate. "Ready."

"We're ready in the Gate Room, Rodney," Sam's voice came through the mike. "We've just received transport of the stasis pod from Antarctica, so there's no more traffic scheduled for the next few hours. You want to head on up here?"

"Yeah." One word at a time until his brain slowed down, because he'd already made himself look like an idiot bartering for a chance to save his own damn life. He was going to give them a clear power source that fed back to itself; that powered, well, would have powered Atlantis and did power their outposts and bases in Pegasus. It was useful and he could work to translate it over, once he got out of the stasis pod. If it worked, no. When it worked, he wanted to take just one more night with Carson, say goodbye and yeah. Yeah, he was going to be okay.

Everything, Rodney decided as he walked it up to the Gate Room, was going to be fantastic.

He and Jeannie had been brilliant. Seriously and amazingly brilliant, even by his own demanding standards. That had been the thing that kept him pushing forward through the tiredness. That, and Carson and John. Carson, who told him every night it was going to be okay, they just needed a wee bit more time; and John, with his easy smile and solid presence there.

He walked into the Gate Room to see Sam inspecting the actual ring and glancing at some outputs on a hand-held computer. "Rodney," she smiled at him and he had to admit, she could still do it to him. It was funny how that happened sometimes.

She held up a glittering memory crystal, one of Earth's homegrown versions. "I've loaded the commands and the programming, and run some simulations, throwing some strange scenarios at it. The algorithms held the subspace universe expansion beyond the microscopic point. Technically, according to the data, we should be able to hold a pocket universe expansion for the full 38 minutes the wormhole is active. But considering that you quarter-charged a ZPM from a universe that generated and collapsed in under ten seconds, I'm thinking we probably don't have a ZPM big enough to take it. So what about a thirty second one?"

"Thirty seconds," Rodney agreed, and he nodded to her as he reached for the memory crystal. He could plug it in, wanted to, and everything was going to work out. He wanted to crow and brag, but that could wait for him to slide the crystal home and see the ZPM charge up.

She gave it to him. "All yours, Dr. McKay," she said with more of the respect they had developed over the past year or so since they had made it home. "Lock it on and give me the word, and I'll dial the null sequence."

That had been one of the inspirations. One that has struck him while Zed stared at him, purring loudly in a quiet room as he wondered about whether there was an afterlife or just void and emptiness. He'd realized they needed to dial a null point, a void to get an active wormhole that could be folded. It had been difficult to achieve, but he could do it.

He took his time settling the crystal, took his time checking the seating because he'd always hated it when the control crystals blew. It was a feeling of relief when he slid the ZPM into its new housing and stepped back from the gate.

"Go."

The gate started powering up, the chevrons blurring around the outside. And this was the clever bit: the program fooled the gate into believing there was a lock going on, while physically, the part of the Stargate that determined the location in space continued trying to dial. Another bit of programming overrode the automatic protocols that prevented a wormhole from failing unless there was a receiving lock on the other end. And there it was! A wormhole interface forming without a whoosh or drama. It was less like water and more like the iridescence of a bubble.

They watched as the device clipped to the gate clicked into a second mode. The interface swirled dramatically.

"Here we go, Rodney. Thirty seconds starting ... now!"

It was beautiful. The ZPM glowed with life, a brilliant and somewhat overdramatic yellow and it wasn't Arcturus all over again. It wasn't another one of his fantastic fuck-ups. No, this was success ... refreshing, amazing success because it was working. The ZPMs could be recharged and they held so much power within! Safe, clean, portable bubble universes right at their fingertips, no unpredictable particles.

He could see the delight on Colonel Carter's face as the ZPM became a veritable light show. She keyed in a sequence and just like that, the interface twisted and folded. Then, with a very incongruous "pop", the wormhole vanished, leaving the Gate Room empty.

She walked over to the ZPM and checked it. "Congratulations, Rodney. 100% power readings, and that wasn't even a thirty-second burst!"

It was hard to not grin, bouncing on his heels for a moment. "Fantastic! We'll have to charge the other empty ones we have, and the Daedalus needs to be informed that any dead ZPMs they find are worth a lot more than they used to be. This, this is great! I knew it would work! There was no way the Ancients created a one-charge item!"

"I'm pretty sure that they didn't do it using Stargates in this way," Sam replied, smiling as she checked the readings again. "I think that one is all your doing. I'm willing to bet that they had miniature recharging rings somewhere configured to produce a pocket universe just big enough to fill one up."

"Since we've never found those, this is just going to have to serve. And since we managed so long on naquadah generators..." The outposts could be brought back to life. There was that planet, the one with the tower that had a whole city sunk into the earth, just like Atlantis; it took ZPMs. A fully powered city!

"Well, now we've proven that we can renew power sources, we get to test out the first one in the stasis pod," Sam said, tilting her head a little.

"I don't have to get in it right away, do I? I wanted another day to get some things in order." But they could test it, at least power it on and then power it off. Rodney pushed down his nerves and watched Sam retrieve it.

"No, no," Sam laughed a little. "It's one of the ones that hasn't been used. We think the other was damaged when we released Jack. This is going back a good few years, obviously.

"Obviously," Rodney fidgeted, watching her. "So, it's going to work, right, now that it has a power source?"

"Should do," Sam replied even as she walked over to the uncrated pod. "Let's take a look."

She popped open the panel. "They sent this one because it was the one out of the cluster thatóthere we goóhad the power-source chamber." Very carefully, she slid the ZPM in and twisted until there was a satisfying click. "Okay, let's see if it powers up."

He let her do it, let her power it on, because he didn't feel that old need to do everything himself to just be sure. But there was nothing. "I, uh, thought it lit up a bit at the edges."

Sam was frowning. "That's not right. Something is interfering with the power supply." She popped out the control crystals and started examining them.

He knew when she found the problem because she froze for a moment, looked up at him, then back at the crystal in her hand. "Rodney..."

"No. No, no, this is a really bad joke, isn't it?" That was where she smiled at him and put it in the right way ... because it wasn't supposed to go that way. He'd just solved the problem of renewable energy forever, and that wasn't supposed to happen!

"We've got a problem," Sam said. "There are microfractures in these crystals. "

That was bad, very bad.

"The crystals used for stasis pods are unique. Now that we've worked out the process of making programmable crystals, we can grow some, but..."

But. He knew the "but": it took nearly six months to grow a crystal.

"No. No, can't you use some from one of the other pods? Goddammit, how was this transferred here? On a jeep without shocks?" It couldn't be real. There just ... fuck. Fuck!

"Of course not, Rodney. They look like resonance fractures, which means that the other pods are most likely affected." Sam looked at him and hurriedly added, "I'll send a team to look for salvageable crystals, or a new pod. Do you remember coming across any working ones in Pegasus?"

Oh yeah, sure. On Atlantis, which was at the bottom of the sea, or on the Aurora, which got blown up. Oh, and on the Orion, which didn't so much blow up as commit a kamikaze run against a cluster of Hive ships. Yet another time John should've died and didn't. And there was the irony. Now he had no hope.

"Yes, except for the part where they all ended up destroyed! Oh, God! Dammit, I should have seen this. I really should have, because we're just fucking cursed! You SG One people have the golden goddamned touch! I can't believe this." Oh, god. He wanted to yell, kick something. "Maybe I can re-route it, slide around it. I've done that before."

"Rodney, it won't work without the control crystals. That's like trying to get a computer to do anything without a CPU or motherboard," Sam said. "I'm sorry, Rodney. We'll look into a way of accelerating the crystal growth. I'll get them set up tonight, then ask the Asgard if they can think of a way to accelerate the growth."

She was clutching at straws. He knew it. He was lucky if he had two months left, and that was being optimistic. There was no way he was going to make six months without the stasis pod, which was the reason why he needed the six months in the first place!

"Fine, fine. Hey, you know, someone at sometime probably Doctor Jackson is going to need it again, so..." Rodney waved a hand a little and turned away before he made a complete idiot of himself. She just didn't get it. It wasn't her fucking life on the line and, yes, he was greedy enough to try anything to save his own life. There was nothing heroic about going to your death without fighting.

"Rodney," her voice sounded like she did understand, "there's still a chance something might come up. I'm sorry. There was no way to know these were fractured until we had the power source."

"Which I just..." Yeah. Because if anyone was going to do Rodney McKay a favor, it was going to be Rodney McKay. He reached to pick his laptop off the crate. "I'll be back in tomorrow to check the output. We'll have to power up something that can, oh, function as a test."

She nodded, her face showing concern. "Do you want me to get someone to drive you home, or is Dr. Beckett here?"

Carson was spending the evening with John. Rodney would really be heading home early. He'd just soared on hope and accomplishment, and then someone had set the air on fire or something. Why ruin whatever enjoyment they had in each other's company? "No, I have a car. I'm fine." Maybe irrationally pissed off, but he was tired of shit happening to him. Him! He'd just solved the world's energy problems, or at least set them on the way to it. Maybe they could make mini-gates that charged them, which would be just fantastic, except that he wouldn't be around for it. He was going to end up the Tesla to the Marconi.

"I don't think you should be alone, Rodney. I mean, this has to be a terrible shock to you," Sam said.

Yeah, right. To her, it was probably normal. How many times had Dr. Jackson managed to die? Ascend, Descend like some kind of goddamned metaphysical escalator. General O'Neill was no better, though he'd managed to skip the whole glowing thing.

He was going to do this once. It was like they'd stolen all his second chances, used them up, and it just wasn't fair. He didn't think Colonel Sam Carter had ever been claimed as spoils on a raid and used as a stand-in for Sheppard's crimes against the Genii. Of course, if he opened his mouth, she'd probably pull out some horrible drama that would make him feel like an ass. Better to keep it shut.

They always one-upped everyone. At fucking everything. "Yeah, being really close to dying, it does that to you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll be here," Sam sounded sad, but she didn't stop him from leaving. Jesus Christ on a fucking pogo stick! How was he going to tell Carson? How was he going to tell John?

That the big thing that he was SURE was going to work actually wasn't. Oh, but they could get it working ... after he was dead. Yeah, that was going to be great. And he couldn't think of anything else. That had been it! It was his one big hope, getting it to work so that Carson could have plenty of time to work on his harebrained miracle cures. Then one of the cures would work, and they could do that whole "growing old and cranky together" thing that Rodney thought of so fondly.

He rubbed at his eyes as he left the Gate Room, walking fast.

He didn't want to sob in the middle of the SGC. Actually, he was more likely to try to strangle or punch anyone who came his way, but he didn't want to break down here. Not on the night when everything should've been fine again, when he did something so earth-shattering, it would change the world forever. Why the hell should he care? He wasn't going to be here to see it.

Rodney was on autopilot all the way home, his thoughts running around aimlessly. There was nothing to do. Nothing to do but run on autopilot. He kept turning it over in his head, seeing Sam try to power it on and it failing completely. He parked his car, got out, and locked it. It was a little past 11, and Carson probably wouldn't be home yet. Rodney vaguely hoped that Carson was having a nice evening. Someone should have.

He was surprised to find the dim light of the side lamps on when he got in. The TV was practically muted and Carson was there with a cold cup of coffee, dozing off in front of some Discovery channel epic. He said he got some of his best ideas there, but maybe it was more to do with falling asleep in front of it.

He'd hoped that Carson wouldn't be home, waiting up for him. He didn't want to see or talk to anyone, nothing that might mean coming out of his numbness. Rodney wandered in, hung up his jacket, and scooped up Zed before she could even yowl at him.

Zed purred and lay over his shoulder, rubbing her head under his jaw. The simple action was nearly enough to undo him. Maybe if he just went straight to bed, Carson wouldn't speak to him. He wouldn't have to make this real by admitting it.

He could just pretend for another day, maybe two if their schedules didn't match. He could avoid Carson if he wanted to, and if he did it right, it'd take a couple of days for Carson to work out what was going on. Except that was stupid, and he'd just make himself more miserable.

Still, he didn't want to have to tell anyone, didn't want to say it, and he didn't want to wake Carson up.

Zed seemed to understand, at least. She wasn't being as fussy and demanding as normal. He hated the thought that he only had a couple months to see her grow up a little. She wouldn't even be an adult cat by the time he was gone. Dead. He might as well admit it. Not gone, not out of sight, but actually dead.

Dead and gone for real. Gone into that great, voidy nothingness. It was impossible to find comfort in religion when he knew it was crap, that they were Humanity 2.0. Or v. 2.5, or whatever.

Rodney wandered a little further into the living room, leaving his briefcase leaning against the wall.

He could've sworn he hadn't made a noise, but whatever he did was enough to make Carson stir. His head nodded forward, then jerked back up with surprise.

"Hey, Rodney," Carson said a bit blearily. "I think I meant to wait up for you. I wanted to know how the test went." He yawned a little bit as he spoke, then patted at the couch next to him.

"It went great," Rodney told him, trying to drag up the excitement he'd felt when they'd just run the test. "100% capacity filled in under 30 seconds."

He saw Carson's face light up with a great, shining hope. It was horrible. "That's fantastic! You and Jeannie did it! My God, that solves the Earth-defense problem, as well. Rodney, that's..." He paused and look at Rodney for a moment. "Rodney?"

That questioning tone meant he'd have to either lie or tell the truth. Carson had seen something; maybe the fact that his smile wasn't cutting his face in half. Possibly. That was possibly it. "The stasis chamber's broken."

He could see it. If he'd wanted to know what he looked like when Sam had pulled the fractured crystal out, he was seeing it now in Carson's expression. Disbelief, doubt that he had heard right. A slowly dawning horror at the realization a draining of color from the face. "Broken? Is it... is it fixable?"

"They need to grow and program a new control crystal." He gave Zed another pet, hand pressing a little too firm. "I can't take that right now. It..."

Zed wriggled a little bit, flicking her tail in warning.

"How long?" Carson asked. He looked like he was holding his breath, like he was praying for any answer except the one Rodney was going to give him.

"Six months." And he'd be dead and buried. He didn't want to die. It was just stupid that no one would even check the stasis chamber until he had given them the ZPM. It was just payment for service, apparently. That was the SGC, through and through.

Carson looked like he was the one dying at that moment, in that instance when he couldn't find words. He just stood and latched on to Rodney desperately, as if that would somehow help or make this anything but the tragedy it had become.

The cat was getting squished between them. Rodney spared a moment to slide her free and let slip her to the floor. "It's not fair." He'd said everything else in a perfectly normal tone, but that ... Saying that to Carson made his voice break.

"No, it's not." Goddammit if it didn't sound like Carson was going to cry, as well. He didn't stand a chance then. If he wasn't allowed to let go now, when could he?

Carson's arms around him were tight, as if the more fiercely he held him, the more he could protect him. "Rodney."

"I did it. I did it to save my own hide, and I can't even do that," Rodney choked. He let himself go lax against Carson, made himself do it because Carson was it now. They were running out of time.

"It's not over, it's never over." But there was an obvious despair in his voice. He knew how little time there was. "I'm not going to let you die without a bloody good fight!"

"Just what are you going to fight? We're out of options now." Rodney pressed his face against Carson's, his eyes closing tightly. "I should have known this was going to happen."

"I'm ... I can't let you go Rodney. I can't. I can't be here without you!" Carson said desperately. "There's still time to find something!"

There wasn't. Their million-to-one shot had been used up.

"I don't have anything else, and you're not allowed to do anything stupid, goddammit! You're the rational one, so be rational!" Rodney hugged him tighter. It didn't fix anything, but it did make him feel better.

"I don't want to be rational!" Carson replied. His voice broke, "I don't want anything else, anyone else but you. I love you, Rodney, and it shouldn't be like this. You achieved the impossible! That should be enough!"

"Apparently, it isn't. I could always try fixing the stasis chamber myself; no one's going to do it for me." He wanted to quit. Just stop working, stop doing everything. They all expected him to work to his death trying to give back to the world. Rodney didn't think he was that kind of person. He wanted to crawl into bed and die.

Well, not die.

Carson's hands were stroking down his back, and he kissed him. "Don't give up. I'm working on a few things."

He just needed time, that was the whole point. Pretty soon, he was going to start hurting. He would be drugged out of his mind on morphine just to get through the day. It was all useless.

"Sure." Rodney closed his eyes. He'd had a couple of months, well, no, a couple of years of pure heaven. A quiet, boring sort of domesticity, a life, and easy relationships, whether they were on Dagan or on Earth. "Sure. I just, I can't fix me anymore. I'm out of ideas."

"We've got something about programming nanites and maybe something with naquadah; I'm not sure," Carson said, sounding desperate to give him something. "Rodney, about John. You need to know the truth. We haven't been having sex or anything like that. He's been querying the database for ideas and clues. And we have some. Some things to start on."

Oh. He was almost insulted that they'd been hiding it from him, but not quite. It was sweet, because they were trying for him. They were trying to keep him alive, so Rodney just shook his head and hugged Carson tighter. "Dammit." His voice broke a little. "And here I had such good fantasies."

"Well, we can work on that, maybe." His attempt to sound light fell flat. "Let's go to bed. I want to hold all of you, let you know I love you. Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will be better."

"Yeah." Sure, it would be better. It couldn't get any worse. There was no way he could get any worse news. Rodney just clung to him, trying to breathe and keep himself together. "I'm sorry I got your hopes up."

"For God's sake, Rodney, don't worry about me!" Carson replied in that same rough voice. "Please don't. I don't think I could stand thinking about causing you more pain. "

Rodney tilted his head a little and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against Carson's jaw. "I'm sorry because I wanted that stupid fantasy. The one where we retire someplace and live happily ever after until we're so old that..."

"...that we put in each other's false teeth by accident?" Carson said. "Or when we're sixty and decide to go on a cruise, then you complain because they keep squeezing lemon on the seafood? Or when I sit in the audience, watching you pick up your Nobel prize?" He was sure Carson was crying now.

He wanted to cry, wanted to let go, but he was trying to. Rodney didn't know what he was doing, except holding onto Carson, feeling him shake and choke. Rodney couldn't see Carson's face, but he didn't have to, either. "Yeah, that one. I'm really going to miss that one, and when the military declassifies the Stargate project, your work on the ATA Gene definitely puts you up for a Nobel. I'm going to miss that, putting them both up on the mantel."

"We'd need a trophy case," Carson replied and kissed his temple. There was dampness on his cheek. "I love you so much. I don't know what to say anymore."

"I love you. I wish I..." He wished. It was enough, he supposed, that he wished there was more he could do. His throat hurt and felt tight. "Let's, let's go to bed."

There wasn't a lot more that they could do. There were only so many blows they could take before they toppled.

He and Carson both wished, but it didn't come true for them. He provided so many near-miraculous saves for so many people, but no one could bring him one. He knew Carson would probably die to stop him from dying, but he didn't want that, either.

It was easier to go numb and let Carson move him gently towards the bedroom.

He let Carson steer him. Once they were in the bedroom, he pulled at Carson's clothes, kissing at his jaw still. He didn't want to have sex; he just wanted to feel Carson, to feel a little less like shit before he went to sleep.

They didn't waste time. Carson stood, gently and tenderly caressing every line, soft or hard, with such intensity that Rodney knew he was trying to memorize him by touch. He was going to do that every day, feeling the inevitable changes take Rodney away from him.

He just kept kissing Carson, breaking up the rhythm of their undressing. It was easier to study each other's bodies lying down, anyway.

It couldn't be good news.

Rodney had never come to his apartment, not in all the time he had been there... supposedly moving furniture around with Carson. It was a nice place, though. If he'd known Rodney was coming, he would've hidden a few more things, like the truly impressive pile of pills on the coffee table, the piles of scribbled notes, and the drawing of what he remembered of the physicality transponder. He had half-convinced himself it wasn't the same thing, but he was planning to show the picture to Carson the next time they could arrange something, and then come clean.

But here was Rodney at his door and he didn't look well. For the first time, he didn't look just a little tired; he actually looked ill. An icy prickle of premonition touched the back of John's neck.

"Hey! Here's a surprise. Should've said you were coming. I could've, well, probably not done much."

"Pretended to dust," Rodney smiled at him with one side of his mouth as he peered past John into the apartment. "Hey, it looks nice. The furniture-moving you and Carson have done has really paid off."

He shrugged and smiled a little, not really wanting to lie outright; they had moved things around just so they could say they did. "Yeah. Come on in, take a load off. You want a drink? I could do coffee."

"Coffee sounds good, if it's not a problem. I passed a Starbuck's drive-through on the way here, which is just the weirdest thing I've ever seen. If you're too lazy to park your car and walk in, I don't think you deserve coffee." Rodney closed the door behind him. John was used to that, this immediate discussion of trivial things.

"You have to have gone without for some time to really appreciate it," John replied and padded back into the kitchen area. He had a habit of walking around barefoot when he was at home, so he was aware that he probably looked like he had not long got up. "So, anything prompting this drop-in? I was pretty sure that most invites I've given you have ended up with Carson coming alone."

"I've been busy. Really busy with the ZPM... which, by the way, works. And when I say it works, I mean it charges to 100%, full stop, in under thirty seconds. It really works." Rodney wandered further into the living room, but he stayed standing. John could still see him from the kitchen door.

"Hey!" John was impressed and let it show. "Way to go, Rodney, that's great!" It was great, it was fantastic. It meant maybe some more time, some way to find and perfect a cure. "So, when are you going in for your little nap?"

That was a relief! This was going to call for some celebratory whipped cream on top of the coffee, some chocolate or something.

"In about two months."

"Two months? Isn't that? I mean..." John frowned as he made the coffee. "That's cutting things pretty fine. Not that I want to second-guess Carson, but wouldn't it be better to go in sooner rather than later?"

"No, no. It's really better to go later rather than sooner." He paused while John ran the tap to fill the coffee pot. "The stasis chamber is broken."

John wasn't the type to drop things in shock; he wasn't the type to panic at bad news. If he was, he probably would've died long ago. But for all he was calm and turned to face Rodney, and just said "What?" as if he hadn't heard, there was a part of him that was screaming denial. Rodney couldn't die. He nearly died a lot, and there was just no way this could be happening.

"Sam says they can have a new crystal grown in six months. The thing that pisses me off is that they had it in the Atlantus base, and no one thought to see if it was actually functioning. This has been my back-up plan for nearly a year, and they never..."

Because you couldn't check whether something was working or not unless there was a power source, but he didn't say anything about that. "Fuck," John said succinctly. He'd gotten out of the habit of moderating his language because he was on continuous radio mike. "I don't believe it. Rodney, they've got to have some sort of back-up plan. You're the indispensable one; they won't want to lose you!"

He believed that. When it came down to it, he'd been the muscle with a lot of luck and the ability to abandon good sense... or stick with it, depending on the situation. And it worked, sure, but he wasn't a genius of that caliber. Rodney was shaking his head at John. "Yes, they will. They don't care. They never liked me here, John. I was the laughingstock of the SGC until I did that work on the naquadah generators. It was only then they'd let me work."

"But what you've done since, the Ancient technology and all of that. There's no one with the same hands-on experience as you!" He could tell that he sounded overly forceful, as if he was arguing and that was stupid. "They've read the mission reports. They know what you can do. I know what you can do! They can't just ignore this."

"They can and they will. They'll apologize and they'll start the control crystal, but only because it needs to be fixed anyway. And when I call in to tell them I'm too tired to come in and finish testing whatever, they'll let it slide. Then they'll hide my file away in a filing cabinet when I die."

"No Rodney. You think Carson is going to let them do that? Or me?" John said. Maybe if he tried really hard, the ability would wake up. Hell, there had been a time when he couldn't touch anyone without leaking energy. Maybe it was just the mental component that was holding him back. If that were the case, then, in a moment, all this would be over; he was sure he'd never wanted anything as much as he did to make Rodney better. "Sit down, Rodney."

"I don't think I actually grasped it until the stasis chamber failed. I kept thinking that I'd still get to see all of us get old, not this. We made it out of Pegasus alive. We shouldn't be dying now," Rodney rambled, his mouth pulled down. He was going to need guiding to get him to sit down.

John obliged, using the steering as an excuse to sit close and keep his hands on him. There is was, the illness aching at him; he still had that part of things. If he let himself drop into it, he could feel the detail of cells multiplying and defenses failing. "I know. Considering what we went through, what you went through. The Rodney I knew would know he's the most important guy. You've gotta hold on to that."

"Hey, I just made the biggest step towards clean, renewable energy that the world has ever seen. I know how important I am!" He just thought that no one else outside of their little group saw it. Or maybe they did and they just didn't tell him. After all, Rodney had spent years telling everyone he met how important and brilliant he was. It might've seemed obvious that Rodney didn't need to be told, himself.

"Then start believing it." John had his arm around his shoulders and it was too much to just call it a buddy movement. "It's not just because you're the biggest geek genius around. You're important to us because you're Rodney. To Carson, to Jeannie, Madison, and even Caleb. To Elizabeth." He paused a moment, putting his hand over Rodney's. He needed skin-to-skin contact to try, but he disguised it so that it could be taken another way.

There, his head started to ache. He could feel it, that build-up of pressure before a release of energy, but nothing happened. It was like there was an engine there, but nothing to spark an ignition.

Rodney closed his eyes and his mouth was pulled down tight as he squeezed John's hand. "Yeah. You have no idea how much that means to me. I mean it."

The pressure blazed behind his eyes. He just wanted something to push it so he could feel less like he was on the outside of everything. He had been for way too long now. He'd hoped for so much when he came back, and he, well, he was lucky to get what he had. But maybe...

He didn't know why he did it, not really. Perhaps to try and release that pressure, perhaps just because Rodney was dying and he didn't want him to go. He leaned in and just lightly kissed him on the lips. The pressure blazed hard enough to make his sight fade, but nothing else. Nothing at all.

It was broken and his lips burned.

His lips burned, and Rodney sucked in a breath, babbling, "Oh, God, John, don't do this to me. Please, it's been killing me not to do anything. You're still you and I'll do something stupid."

He breathed, tasted blood in his mouth, and drew back. No. No, it was something he might've done before, but not now. Even though he wanted it so much that watching Rodney and Carson sometimes filled him with a terrible jealousy and a hopelessness that he was never going to be more than a friend.

Now it looked like he wasn't even going to have that to look forward to, and he wasn't going to do this again.

"I'm sorry. I'm not entirely sure what just happened." Words he'd used before, ones that haunted him with the consequences that had followed. It wasn't just "kinda nice"; it was just everything, pure and simple. But he wasn't going to fuck up Rodney's relationship. "I won't do that again."

"Please don't." Rodney's voice sounded plaintive, but he was still close to John, an arm loose over his shoulders. "Not because it's not good, because it's amazing, but I watched my parents cheat their way through life. That's a kind of miserable I don't want to inflict on anyone."

"I just wanted you to know..."

That he was trying and that he'd had the answer once. But he lost it and it took not just that, but pretty much everything else he'd ever bothered using as a reason to live along with it. "I wanted you to know that I still ... you know."

If he said the words aloud, it would be another line crossed and more trauma that Rodney and Carson didn't need. "But you're right; I can't do that to you or to Carson."

"Yeah, well. I'm going to be, you know. Soon. So, if you and Carson ... I, I'd almost be happy. I'm worried for him and I don't know what to do anymore."

John exhaled and wiped at the small trickle of blood from his nose. It was small enough that it wouldn't even be noticeable. "Rodney, I don't know if we can, not that way. I don't think he wants to do anything like that. But I can promise you that I will look after him. Not that it's gunna be necessary, because you're the king of the eleventh-hour rescue. We're not there yet, and you are not going to do all this alone. I might not be able to do ... that, but I can still be there. When Carson can't."

Carson was going to be working, and Rodney shouldn't be alone.

"Eleventh hour. More like eleventh hour and fifty nine minutes. I... okay. Company wouldn't be a bad thing, particularly since it's you." Rodney sat back and rubbed at his eyes, looking back at John blearily. "I'm sorry to dump this on you."

"Rodney, don't be an idiot," John found himself saying with that same affectionate irritation that had been their norm of communication. "I was pretty sick where I was. I know how frustrating it is, how difficult things are. Besides, what else am I going to do?" He gave a disarming smile. "Carson will work on a cure, and I'll help where I can help."

"Help me keep Carson from working himself to death." Rodney said it very seriously even as he pulled back, looking at John. "My sister and her family are coming this weekend. Oh, God, I forgot!"

"It's okay, Rodney," John replied. "You want me there, or should I steer clear?" Family time was something he never really understood, but he respected it. It hadn't really happened for him, and from the sounds of it, Rodney had been a bit light on it himself.

"No, you should come. Well, if you're willing to. They're good people. My sister's brilliant." Rodney threw that last one in with a crooked twist of his mouth. "And you're more of a people-person than I am."

"I'll be there," John promised. How could he not be, when he had not been there for them for so long? When they needed him. Besides, this was it. It couldn't be a mental block, because when he'd kissed him, he would've given anything to make it work. There was no sudden spark, no familiar blaze of energy rushing out of him. They had so little time now; weeks, most likely. He wasn't going to stay away.

Putting it off, avoiding Rodney wouldn't help. Carson was going to look into the naquadah, requisition some, and maybe it would work. It was past time to come clean now, past time for him to tell Carson what he knew for sure. Holding back wasn't going to achieve anything.

"Good, great."

He reached up unconsciously to ruffle through Rodney's hair. He was remembering a balcony overlooking the ocean, sitting with Rodney and realizing that, though sex was great, this was better. This something-more was new and dangerous. Something worth trying to be different for.

It hadn't worked, though. If there was one thing John was good at, it was picking exactly the wrong thing to do, believe, or say when it came to being serious about a relationship.

Rodney pressed his head against John's hand and sighed. "Even my hair feels tired."

He knew the feeling.

Carson was tired, but he couldn't stop looking and working on something, anything. Somehow, in the last few weeks, they had headed into an emotional freefall. No one could doubt now that Rodney was ill. He was exhausted, tired, in pain, and there was nothing Carson could do to stop it happening.

"So, tell me again. Why they can't get the naquadah now?" John was asking as he lay on the examining couch. "There's a Stargate right there. Generators, too."

"It's not as easy as that, John," Carson replied, looking at the monitors. "It needs to be in a form that can be assimilated into the body. It is a very finicky substance."

"Why can't it just be put into a suspension, added to an IV?" Or injected? Or any of the other hundred things that John probably wasn't thinking through.

God save him from armchair doctors! "Because. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get it into a suspension?" Carson replied, knowing he sounded irritable. "We are trying to make a colloidal solution, but naquadah does strange things when you treat it with electromagnetism. It just passes through on a grand tour of the digestive system, or gets flushed out of the blood through the kidneys. It needs to have a protein marker that will enable it to stay where it is needed." He looked at John's blood results. "It is not even a substantiated premise. It'll be two or three weeks before I have a sample to experiment with."

And that might be too late.

"So, going out to the Stargate with a chisel would be a 'no', huh?" It seemed like it was only half a joke. John laid his head back on the pillow. "I hate this. I hate not being able to fix this."

"I gathered that. You are in the same boat as the rest of us, and you are trying to help him." He was increasingly grateful for John's presence while he was at work. Leaving Rodney alone, like they were now, made him uncomfortable and unsettled. "Your blood work is looking better. Many more episodes of cramping? Any convulsions?"

"No, none." It sounded a little like a lie, and John's lips were parted a bit, like he was debating whether or not to say anything else. "I touched the physicality transponder, Carson. It used to work for me. I could have fixed him, and now I can feel that he's sick, but I can't do a damned thing."

Carson blinked a moment. "You what?" Physicality transponder? That was the healing device. John had touched a healing device and he hadn't told anyone?

"Back in Pegasus. I walked around for a while and I could heal anyone I touched. I did it to Radek and he was still alive the last time I saw him. So it worked. That was how I survived the Wraith Queens." He was lying still, looking up at the ceiling while he talked. He wasn't trying to sit up or move for the first time in forever since Carson had known John. "And probably everything else. But it's burnt out. It doesn't work."

"Why the bloody hell didn't you say something before?" Carson nearly exploded. "Is it because you don't want anyone else to have him?" He knew he was being irrational, but he couldn't help it. The news nearly undid him.

Because John just... and he was reading it right, Carson knew it. John could heal people. John could heal people, Carson was a walking database, and Rodney could move things with his mind. It was fucked up, so fucked up, and it hadn't done them any good. "What?" John jolted, sitting up on the examining table. "I told you, it doesn't work. I've been trying, and I can't get it to work, Carson."

"You knew what we've been looking for! And now you're telling me you could do this?" Carson replied. "Rodney is dying and you kept this a secret because it didn't work? Even looking at the broken parts of something can help us build something. You know that! I should've been working on this all along, not fannying about after bloody naquadah!"

"I know you were listening when it mentioned that naquadah was necessary. Hey, that might be why it's not actually working!" John's voice had an edge to it. He started to swing his feet over the edge of the table.

"It was probably to facilitate the assimilation, not as a continuous presence," Carson said. "Stay where you are. I want to try a few more scans now that I know about this."

He was being snappish and he knew it, so he tried to soften his reaction. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean that. I, well, it's for Rodney. I just want there to be something we can do. If I can find out what changes were made, then perhaps we can do something similar. We need Rodney's system to repair itself, and if this ability of yours is broken, then we'd do better trying to produce the effect in Rodney."

"Do you happen to have a physicality transponder in your pocket?" John shot back. He didn't move to lie back down. He just stared at Carson, his voice snapping, "Because I don't think it's going to work without one."

"The transponder produces an effect," Carson pointed out. "And as we don't have a transponder, our best course of action would be to map the effects, to see if there is something in your system that might trigger spontaneous healing. As you say, it might well be the naquadah."

Carson settled down and tried to get himself in a more professional frame of mind. "I apologize for what I said. I was a wee bit out of line."

John was still frowning at him, but he moved to lie back down on the table. "You were." Just that. No embellishment, no jokes.

Fantastic. Now he'd managed to hurt John's feelings, which was notoriously difficult to do. "I didn't mean it as it came out," he said as he turned to pick up another piece of equipment. His hands were shaking even as he tried to talk normally. "It's just ... it's just that I don't think I'm going to find an answer, John." He didn't look at John as he said it. There was a burn of moisture in his eyes that came all too frequently nowadays. He just needed a few seconds to himself, not looking at anyone, and the feeling would pass.

"You think I don't feel guilty that I have this gift that I can't use when I really need to? When one of the best people I've ever known is dying? I keep trying and I just can't." John was looking at the ceiling, jaw tight. That stubbornness reminded Carson of Rodney. "I don't think we have much more time."

Carson wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. "Perhaps a month. Maybe five weeks, if Rodney is his stubborn self." He swallowed as he turned back to John, trying to force a slight, false smile. "Perhaps we can find something that this transponder did and look at the naquadah. I thought this gift of yours was a weapon."

"It was. I healed Ford. I thought I could save his life and be the big hero. It ended up that the healing factor was what had kept him going all that time anyway. It was like the retrovirus, only it didn't remove the Wraith part. It killed it, and it killed Ford. It created a virus that we talked the Hoffans into carrying, and when they were culled..."

Carson blinked and looked at John. It made him suddenly aware that, just as they had not been overly descriptive about what had happened to them with the Genii, John had alluded to and dismissed as unimportant what he had experienced. He knew what John would feel over Ford's death, over "killing" him.

"It transmitted to the Wraith on the ship?" He was right; that was a weapon. "I am very sorry about Ford, John. I know you wanted to bring him back."

"I thought I could save him," John shrugged his shoulders against the paper covering the table. "It infected the ships. In the end, I was able to 'heal' the Queens dead. Then it burned out. I burned out."

"Well, now I know why you were in such rough shape all that time. They were feeding off of you, weren't they?" he said, automatically gentling his voice. "You can't be blamed for that. You saved a whole galaxy. There's not many people who can say that."

"And the irony is that I can't seem to save people that I care about. I couldn't save Ford and I can't save Rodney. I'd trade a galaxy for that."

It was comments like that which made him realize that this wasn't just about him, this tragedy. He was being selfish and he knew it, and that wasn't going to help much. "Well, maybe we can find something together. Some of the tests might be a wee bit unpleasant, but I know for a fact that you've had worse."

Carson patted John on the arm. He was meant to be the doctor here. He was meant to fix things, save people. Yeah, and he was doing a pretty crappy job at that right now.

John was pissed at him and Rodney was probably at home sleeping on the sofa with his cat. Somewhere in there, his life had turned from heaven into a quiet, private hell. And there was nothing Carson could do about it.

John nodded. "Yeah. At least I'm not blue this time."

"It was a very attractive shade of blue," Carson replied, remembering how hard that experience had been for all of themóand how John made people believe it hadn't been anything major. "I want to do some full body scans. You haven't developed claustrophobia have you?"

"Not that I've noticed, no." Casual, calm. "Let's try to wrap it up before it's gotten too late. I promised Rodney we'd bring back pizza for him and the cat."

"Aye, I think it is not being used at the moment so we'll do it right away," he replied. He was too preoccupied to notice the warning signs that things weren't really right with John. He just gestured for John to grab a robe and follow him. He wanted answers, and if that meant being blind to certain things, he would take that tactic and go with it.

Sometimes, that "do no harm" part of his oath was trickier than the healing part.

When Carson told him that he'd be tired and ill and in pain, Rodney hadn't believed him. When Jeannie talked about a hospice, he'd wanted to kick her until her tibia cracked. He didn't want to die in a hospital, no matter how much Carson went on about life-sustaining measures. All Rodney had was quality of life, and that meant being home.

Having a home, having Carson, having a cat. Another day or two wasn't worth the sterile environment and loneliness, not having his gadgets to fiddle with, not having John to keep him company.

John had been very strangely attentive and competent with helping him. He'd reached the point where walking from the couch to the kitchen was becoming a big effort. It wasn't what he expected, not really. John had always been a "suck it up and keep going" sort of guy on missions, the type to dismiss injuries and illness.

He wasn't like that now. He seemed to know when Rodney needed help and when he needed to try things alone. Frankly, that was something he expected from Carson, not from John. Carson was lavishing him with attention every moment he could. Rodney hated the fact he felt so tired and couldn't seem to enjoy it like he should.

It didn't feel like he had enough time with Carson. He was kicking in on some more research, and Rodney recognized when the research crest was hitting. But he wanted that time with Carson. He wanted time with him, and he couldn't get it. Even when he could, he was tired, and everything hurt more than it ached. He couldn't enjoy anything, even on the soft pillow of painkillers. Rodney didn't even bother asking what they were at that point. He didn't care, just as long as he didn't end up an addict in his last couple of weeks.

In another few days, he'd ask Carson if he could maybe take some time off work. Just ... just because. But for now, they'd all had dinner together and talked and not talked about a lot of things. John had gone home and he was stretched out in bed, waiting for Carson to finish in the bathroom.

He knew Carson was trying to do this for him. He'd been through denial and through anger ,and though he wasn't exactly resigned, he had established a sort of fatalistic approach to the fact he could probably count his life in days now. Weeks were things that slipped through his fingers so impossibly fast.

Already it was dawning on him he had started passing the final signposts in his life: watched his last movie in a movie theater, gone to his last restaurant, seen his last episode of his favorite show. They were somehow more disturbing than the "I never ..." realizations. Never went skydiving, never visited China or Australia, never danced naked in the rain except that once when he was about six and Jeannie had locked him outside, but he didn't think that counted. He wasn't a dancing kind of guy, anyway.

Carson came in silently, slipping into bed next to him. His hands immediately settled to perform the now-familiar ritual of touching him, feeling him somehow as if that helped.

He'd lived in another galaxy. There was still something heady about that, even when it was filled with failure. He'd lived in the Lost City of the Ancients, and he'd found a way to recharge ZPMs. The people who'd set foot in Atlantis and survived could be counted under 100. He was the one living person, Humanity version 2.0, to get the ZPMs working again. It made up for his "I nevers". Anyway, he suspected that Australia was too much like roughing it through Pegasus to actually enjoy it. There was no way he was going to pay money to experience extreme temperatures, eat bad food, and fight off deadly insect-like things.

Carson's hands were caressing over every lean edge of his body as if he were unimaginably fragile and beautiful. He had been a little embarrassed by it before, but now he needed something. Anything. Carson's lips pressed against his cheek softly, and he could feel him half-hard against his thigh. He was amazed that Carson still found him attractive, still seemed to want what was left of him.

He really missed sex. Tackling-Carson-just-inside-the-door sex, falling- over-the-sofa sex. He wasn't quite half-hard himself, and that was just insane. Rodney had always been able to go from 0 to 90 in no time at all. With Kolya, it was more like 0 to 60. When near-rape couldn't really dent his libido, it was baffling that drugs and sickness could.

Rodney twisted a little, shifting closer to Carson before trying to shake himself mentally awake and aware. He'd missed the part where Carson had come out of the bathroom and gotten into bed. "Hey. Hi."

"Hello, love," Carson murmured and kissed him again. "How are you feeling?" Carson asked him so many times every day. John didn't. He wasn't sure why. Maybe John knew how he felt.

John knew what it felt like to be wiped out and tired, mindless with boredom and the bone-deep, razor-sharp pain. It felt a little like Kolya's revenge from beyond the grave. "Okay. I'm still awake." Awake because Rodney wanted the sensation of skin against skin, the lazy bumping of body parts, knees and dicks and hands and elbows.

"That's a good start," Carson replied, his hands still moving over his skin. "Do you need anything? Want anything?"

A new body, a second chance, a glimmer of hope.

He couldn't have any of those, so he let the edges of his mouth tilt up when he kissed Carson. "Just you." He was allowed a little cliche. He'd seen his last movie, had his last dinner out, sure, but he wasn't going to ever admit that there was a last time with Carson.

"Well, you know I am always here for you, even though it's not as often as I would like," he said kissing him again. It made Rodney wonder if he tasted different with all this sickness and illness. Sometimes it was just hard to keep going.

He was naked with Carson, in bed, and he just wanted to sleep. There was something really wrong about that, something unbearable. The fact that he was even naked in bed was a little weird, but when he ran hot and cold, it was easier to grab another blanket if he was cold than to undress when he was hot. "Yeah. Could you maybe take some time off in a few days?"

Carson's hand stilled a moment before resuming. "You want me to do that?" Rodney knew then that Carson had no leads, no real focus or hope; otherwise, he wouldn't even consider it. Not if time would give him the answer.

And did he? "Yes." He shifted a little, and ran his fingers along Carson's ribs. "I just want to spend time with you. Even if I'm not the greatest company."

"Shhh, you are always my favorite and best company," Carson replied. He exhaled a little. "I have a few days or more before my next batch of trials can be run. I can take time now. I want to be with you." His hand was trailing over his hip then, soft and gentle.

"Finish up whatever you have to do at work tomorrow," Rodney suggested. He could get some power-napping in and try to have a better day tomorrow, one better than he was having just then. He shifted again and slid one hand down Carson's stomach, finding the base of his cock.

"I thought you didn't have strength for that," Carson murmured doubtfully, even as Rodney's fingers crept a little closer.

"Huh. I really want you to fuck me." Except he didn't have the strength for it and he was tired. Sex was something he liked to feel good.

"Rodney, I don't think I can do that," Carson said regretfully. "You have a fragile system right now."

Perhaps he could see the disappointment. "But that doesn't mean I can't make you feel good."

The fingers were closing around his cock, firm and familiar.

"Oh, coincidentally, I like this ... and your hand." He stretched against Carson, tipped his head to kiss him again. "I know you can't do the other."

They'd had that discussion and Carson had been very adamant about not doing things that way. His immune system was compromised, and even a mild infection could become a shortcut to death. It seemed that Carson preferred having him alive than having him for sex.

"If you were strong enough, I'd invite you to do it yourself, but perhaps this will help," and he moved his hand, pumping slowly but surely.

"You'd invite me to do what myself? Because if I could fuck myself, I'd never have left the house. Ever, unequivocally, and I never would have gone to Atlantis." The edges of his mouth pulled up again, Rodney rocked his hips against Carson's fingers.

Carson actually chuckled. "I meant do it to me, not yourself," he said and carried on moving his hand carefully. "But, perhaps this and maybe a little more attention with my mouth will be enough."

"I'll never say 'no' to a blowjob," Rodney smirked a little and squirmed his other arm under Carson's body.

"I didn't think you would, somehow," Carson replied a little dryly. "Find a position that is comfortable, love, and I'll work around you."

Not stretched out on his side like that, curled up. It made his shoulder and his hip ache. Rodney sighed, pulling back after one last kiss. He stretched out on his back.

"Much better. Much easier to get to. And not a sign of a torn shoulder ligament or sex related injury in sight," Carson said as he shifted slowly downwards. He pushed himself up and made it clear he wanted to get between Rodney's legs, which usually meant he was intending to stay there a while.

"It feels like forever since we actually hurt ourselves during sex," Rodney laughed quietly. He liked that position, even if it was almost boringly vanilla. It was comfortable, though, and Carson could reach and pet any part of him that he wanted.

Past experience told him that he would and did. "I still remember how I nearly broke my arm when you got a little enthusiastic and we fell out of the bunk beds at the SGC," he teased and settled into position. "I want you to try and think of some more of those while I suck your very oversized brains out through your cock."

With that, he bent his lips to Rodney's skin, knowing not to take forever about getting to the point.

"That's almost a threat to national security, doing that to my brains." Tongue pressed against the head of his cock, sliding over the curve, and then under the flare.

"Mmhmm," Carson agreed, the hum vibrating pleasantly against his skin. There had been a time where this would've had him stirred up and wild, but now he just felt moderately interested. He shifted his hips up against the pressure of Carson's mouth, of Carson's soft humming. "I could do this forever."

"Some of us would get jaw ache," Carson said, amused, before beginning again. It was good to have a lover who knew what you most liked. John had been good at that, as well. Way too good.

But if they had been less stupid, then he wouldn't have Carson, and Carson was everything.

Lose one, either way. And he was going to end up lost, too. "Think you'd let me return the favor?" Rodney asked quietly.

"Only if you are up to it," Carson murmured, his breath causing a sweep of sensation over Rodney's moist erection. "Let's see how you fare with this," he was back to the sucking and teasing that felt so hazy and good.

It was something he could close his eyes to and just feel. Tongue and teeth and lips, the sensation of Carson's hands on his hips and thighs, tickling the hair.

Carson knew how to make it last, and there had been a time when this sort of thing would've been something lighthearted and frivolous. Now, it felt rather like Carson was making some sort of prayer with every suck and swirl of the tongue.

Rodney hated the undercurrent of loss, but he clung to it. He wasn't dead yet, and Carson deserved the playfulness. Carson needed something, needed a new bit of hope. Rodney shifted, pressed one leg against Carson's side. "Love you."

He was lucky, he guessed. There were a lot of people who never knew they were loved like he did. There was a certain regret because he was pretty sure that John was one of those people... confident on one level, but with regard to love, having nothing. He and Carson had moved beyond proving it, misunderstandings, and all of that. Arguments were a ruffled surface over a deep ocean. He didn't have to have faith, belief, or anything as tenuous as that. Carson's love was the complete opposite of tenuous. It was solid and provable, everything that people said love could not be.

And this glowing, hazy feeling was from that knowledge as much as from the wonderful sensation.

Rodney let his hands wander, let them slide down and play with Carson's hair, trying to draw him as close as he could without losing the feeling of mouth on his cock. So, maybe they had fucked for their last time. He'd had Carson on him, in him, for the last time, and that was bittersweet, even if things weren't just sex, that sex between them had taken time to work out. But it was good, and Rodney wasn't going to be like a girl in a cheap movie and cry while he was getting a blowjob.

It wasn't fair. Life, life wasn't fair to either of them. "Oh, God, Carson..."

Carson didn't break his concentration this time. He just carried on sucking and swirling his tongue, giving him a pleasure high that was clear and wonderful, nothing like the soft haze of the morphine painkillers.

He was never going to stop; he was going to stay like this, feeling this forever. It scared him to feel that he could just let go and be submerged into darkness and not come back.

Period, full stop. The end. Rodney pressed his fingers against Carson's scalp, and pressed up again because he just wanted that. Not the other part, not the "full stop it's over part". He just wanted to feel Carson like that for a very long time, a small forever, except that his balls were starting to feel tight. It wouldn't take much more.

He didn't have the stamina he'd become used to. He didn't have much except this gentle pleasure, coaxing him to a climax. He knew Carson said it was a small miracle there was any response there at all, but he hated the thought that he might stop being able to feel this, want this, need this.

And, oh God! He was moving and swallowing him deep.

Swallowing and swallowing ... he liked that feeling, the faint ripple of interesting pressure around his cock. "Carson! Carson, almost! It... oh, oh, fuck!"

He drew him to climax, slowly and inexorably. It was still good, it was still a burst of pleasure and warmth despite everything else; Carson always swallowed, and it felt wonderful even for just the few moments he could have before pain crept back in.

That little relief was amazing. It was coming back by the time Carson crawled back up on the bed. Rodney's hands clung to him all the way, and he pulled him closer. The pain was back and it hurt trying to wrap his brain around what was happening.

"You okay, love?" Carson murmured in his soft Scottish burr as he wrapped gentle, careful arms around Rodney, drawing him into what he could only call a protective embrace.

"I'm tired." Rodney heard his voice break a little, and it was easy as breathing to turn into Carson's arms. "I'm so tired, and I'm honestly getting afraid to go to sleep." Except there was something about organ shutdown, but maybe that was why he was tired. They wouldn't know because hey! he didn't want to be in a hospital, hooked up to all the nice beeping machines that would tell him that things were shutting down.

"I know, love," Carson said stroking his hair. His voice sounded a little rough and Rodney knew if he looked up, he'd see tears in Carson's eyes. H didn't want that. "I'll watch you sleep. I'll make sure you don't ... you don't leave me."

Rodney couldn't smile at that, but he pressed his cheek against Carson's shoulder, and hugged him a little too tightly. "Okay. Okay. I think I'm going to have to wait to return the favor tomorrow."

"I'll look forward to it," Carson murmured again. "I love you Rodney."

And those, as they had been for a few long months, were the last words he heard before falling asleep.

Rodney was dying and it wasn't some far-off, future thing, It was happening now, this very second, and John knew it. He could feel it in a way he wished had vanished along with the useful part of his Ancient-induced gift. For Carson, it was a faint, nebulous, albeit terrifying estimate. For him, though, he could actually sense the life in Rodney draining away, and it had pushed him out on a limb.

John knew they were hitting the end of the line now, ready for the complete derailment of all their lives. What Carson had said before, when he told him, had been bad ... and true. He should've said something earlier, maybe. Even knowing that Carson was finding nothing, he'd been trying to will Rodney to hang on until the naquadah sample was produced. That was his final straw to cling to, his last hope.

It was also the only reason he would risk leaving Rodney now, even for an hour. They had to do something, take some risks. That was his role in things. He was the one who took risks. Sometimes stupid risks, sometimes suicidal ones, but he made the decision to do so while other people were doing other things.

He thought he was back here in the lab for a trial, for an injection or something. He had willingly submitted to having his blood drawn, having even more monitoring done. It reminded him of being vulnerable and dependent, which he pretty much hated, but there was only one priority in his life right now. It didn't matter that it was someone he didn't have a legitimate reason to be obsessed over.

John watched Carson, seeing how close to cracking he really was. He couldn't find anything to say that wouldn't be the final wedge that split him into pieces. He knew Carson knew it was days, maybe even day, singular, and the knowledge was choking the life out of him.

He waited for the explanation and the naquadah injection.

"That's it for today, John. I've got what I need." Carson said as he transported vials of his blood over to his work area. Carson picked up a rack of other test tubes that had a clear, slightly iridescent look to their contents. He extracted a drop from each, dropped it into the blood samples, and labeled them.

"I thought you were going to do some injecting, Doc," he said as he sat up. Okay, that was weird. Those test tubes smelled edible... edible in the way that fueling up with gas sometimes tricked the mind into thinking that it might be good to drink or eat. Perhaps it was true that you craved what you were deficient in. He certainly had developed a case of the naquadah munchies.

"I need your blood to see how it will react to different concentrations of the naquadah and whether the body deals with it in any way. I have some very concentrated solutions here, but I don't think they would do anyone any good, not even you John." Carson said. "We need to know if it is dangerous, because I'm bloody sure that these concentrations are. As the idea is to cure Rodney, I need to be careful about what I injections he gets. I'm comparing your blood results to his with addition of naquadah. Perhaps then I'll see the difference."

And that would all take time. Time John knew Rodney didn't have.

"Carson, I'm thinking we need to do something about this, take some chances," he urged. "It's not like we've got anything to lose."

"You mean you don't have anything to lose!" Carson snapped back. The uncharacteristic response was enough to hit John as solidly as a body punch. He found himself robbed of speech for a moment, then he sat up without protesting.

"Oh, crap, John. I didn't mean that."

He shook his head. "It's okay, Doc. You're under a lot of pressure. I know what you meant." Exactly what he said, and it just confirmed that he was pretty much superfluous in the grand scheme of things. He sat up, buttoning his shirt. "I'll see you when you get home," he said calmly, managing not to glance at the naquadah. It was the answer; he knew it was the answer. Not to give it to Rodney, but to give it to him. To see if it would jump-start one final healing.

"Yes...yes, I--"

He was interrupted by the intercom. "Medical emergency! All Infirmary personnel to the Gate Room. Code Blue! Repeat Code Blue!"

"Bloody hell," Carson looked a hairsbreadth from breaking, but he turned and went. "We'll talk later. John. I have to go."

John just nodded as Carson left the lab. He looked over at the test tube rack. It wasn't even a hard decision. He knew what he was getting into. Even at his best, a bad injury or sickness needed a lot from him. Even if it worked, it might not work. But sometimes you had to take that risk because, sometimes, it paid off. And if it didn't, so what? It wouldn't be down to anyone else but him.

A couple of quick steps, and he grabbed and plugged the test tube marked with the highest concentration. He looked around, seeing a special container. Shielding. That was good. Any detectors they had would be blocked. In to the container, then into his pocket.John knew they would see it on the security tape ,so he looked straight at the camera and said, "Sorry, but we've got to try. He's only got a day at most." Then he left, taking Carson's keys from the jacket hanging on the back of the door.

Getting out of the mountain was much less difficult than he'd thought it would be. There was an emergency going on. They were doing basic searches only on the exterior, and he knew how to get around them. He relaxed as he blatantly stole Carson's car and drove it back to Carson and Rodney's apartment. He didn't know what it would do, how quickly it would act, if it acted at all. John decided that taking it when he got in the door would be best. Far more sensible than just knocking it back right then and trying to drive if it should poison him, especially since it was the first time he had driven a car in a very long time.

He jogged up the stairs, getting the container and the door key out. Making the decision, he opened it and drank the colloidal suspension in one bitter gulp before entering the apartment. It was like downing a bitter shot."Hey Rodney, it's me, John. You awake?"

The apartment was hollow with silence. John's question got him a quiet, sleepy "meow" from the area of the sofa, and then a grumble. If Rodney wasn't asleep in bed, then he was still fighting it. When he rounded the sofa, John could see that the coffee table was covered with notes, notebooks, and a couple of chewed-up pens.

"Huh?"

"More research?" John asked as he padded around to join Rodney. He was unaccountably relieved that nothing had happened while he was at the SGC. This close to him, he could feel an ache that told him that he was in a lot of pain, despite the drugs.

He just had to hope this would work. "You need anything?"

Rodney shifted and pushed himself up slowly to sit up. "Uhn, get the big, fat cat off my legs?"

Zed looked singularly unamused as he complied. "You don't have to sit up for me, Rodney," he replied. Zed wriggled like an eel to get back to Rodney's lap, when John reached for her. "I don't think she wants to stay with me at the moment."

He took a frank look at Rodney and said, "You look like shit. Haven't you taken your meds?"

"I know I look like shit." He didn't look amused, but he shifted to lie back down and pulled at the blanket that was half-spread over him. Zed crawled back over top of him and started to knead at his side. "Oof. Yeah, I took them. I don't think they help much anymore. My head feels thick."

He was waiting for a spark. Waiting, but nothing was happening except he felt a little nauseated. He didn't know whether it was from the drink or Rodney's radiating sickness.

"You want a drink then? Or to go to the bathroom?" That was what he was here to help with, after all. That, and to act as a point for Carson to vent his frustration. He needed to be closer. Rodney liked being held. He could see if he could do that.

"No, and, that's the funny thing. I'm not thirsty. Or hungry." He managed a quiet, nervous laugh. "Can't ever remember that happening, can you?"

"That's pretty unusual for you," John said evenly. "Mind if I sit a little closer? Thought you might like a bit more warmth than Zed is providing."

"Hey, sure." Rodney didn't move, but that was all right. He was easy to manipulate, and he'd let John touch him. He trusted John. "Carson's taking off work for a while. After today. Should be nice."

Might be too late, John wanted to say as he moved into position right up against Rodney, able to put his arm around him. The ache increased incredibly along with the proximity. "Yeah. Some time for the both of you," he murmured, studying Rodney's face.

"Yeah. Not much time." Rodney tipped his head a little and he sighed, leaning into him. "I miss it. You. Him. Both of you."

"I missed you, as well. I thought, after the culling of the Genii..." John replied. He curved his fingers up to tease at Rodney's hair. "I know what everyone said, but I couldn't help thinking then that I had failed you both. Failed you. I had a lot of time to think when I was recovering, and that, most of all, was the thing I regretted: not rescuing you both. Not trying again. Letting you slip through my fingers."

Even if this worked, it was going to be the same.

"'Let' might be the wrong word. You tried. I'm sure of it. Then all hell broke loose and you lost the city." Rodney's voice pitched was low and soft. John could guess he was imagining it. "If I'd been there, I would have gone down with the city."

"I would've been there with you if I hadn't managed to drag you away," John replied. "And none of those reasons matter. Logic says they do, but it feels like some terrible thing." He was silent a moment, feeling the pressure sensation building. "You would've saved the city."

"Maybe. I still have enough ego left." His mouth touched a smile. "Yeah, I could have. I would have tried. Hard. But maybe the Wraith would still be around."

"Maybe. But maybe we would've found a different way, instead of getting ourselves all messed up with Ancient technology," he said softly. He exhaled. "You believe in long shots, don't you, Rodney?"

"Best kind of shot to take." He closed his eyes and shifted closer to John, comfortably. "When it's do or die, you have to do."

"Yeah, that's what I think." The pressure in his head was enough to make his voice waver. "That's what I do."

His hands. His hands were starting to prickle, to heat up with the precursor to a release. He could feel himself enter the peculiar merging state of consciousness where he could feel what Rodney was thinking and feeling and ... Dear God, this better not be all it came to!

"Yeah. You flew out how many nukes for us? I always thought you were insane ... and that I'd killed you again because I built those bombs with my hands. I've killed a lot of people that way, if I think about it. I think. Or could have."

"If you listen to the stories, I killed a whole species," John said, having to close his eyes. He could feel the shape of Rodney's mind, and even drugged and dying, it was still full of sparkling thoughts like diamonds, complex and inherently amazing. Then there were the feelings, Rodney's fear and exhaustion and regrets.

The link was coming in slow, but it was coming. It was more than before. All he needed was the connection and then it would let loose. Any moment ... any moment, now. If Rodney could just lay there a bit longer, stay with his eyes closed.

"Yeah, but they sucked. Really sucked." There was a brief pause, and Rodney chuckled to himself, smiling a little, eyes still closed. "That was a joke."

"Mmm." His arm was shaking as the connection snapped in with a final, compelling rush. He had to move then. It was sudden and unexpected, one hand reaching to press against his chest, the other moving to push Rodney down flat. There it was! The burn and fizz, the striking match in his blood.

"Finally, finally," was all he could say as he felt the energy surge and finally move.

Rodney choked. John saw his eyes fly open before they rolled back, then that was it. His blood was on fire, and everything was starting with or without all of him there.

He should've known what it would do. After the Hive Queens, after a long and slow recuperation, the energy tore through him, bursting through weakened areas. It was ripping out, leaking away, and all he had to do was to keep it going, keep it focused to lose himself in Rodney. He concentrating on the internal litany: Make him well, make him well, make him not sick, take the illness away and rebuild healthy tissue. He just had to hold that long enough with the blaze of light in his eyes, the taste of blood choking him. He just hoped he could survive it long enough. That's all he wanted, all he'd ever wanted.

Doctors weren't meant to panic. Carson knew he should've taken the offer to be driven home instead of grabbing the nearest car from the pool, because he was driving dangerously fast. He had to get back home; he had to get there before John. Before John persuaded Rodney to take the naquadah solution. It was too strong, it would kill him. It would be like poison, for all there were no organic proteins to bond it into his system.

When he came back after restarting the marine's heart... this time it had stopped from some sort of blow dart, he'd meant to go back and apologize for what he said to John. He had been taking out all his fear and frustration on him because he couldn't do that to Rodney, not with him so ill. Then he'd seen the test tube gone, he'd seen the security tape, and the words John mouthed to the camera. He was at least an hour behind John.

An hour. Maybe he hadn't found a way to do it. Maybe by the time he got home, he would be able to stop it. He didn't even want to know how John was figuring the times but if that was all the time Rodney had left, then he wanted to be there for that, as well.

Every second counted. He shouldn't have even gone into work. Rodney had asked him to take some time off, and that, in itself, should have told him that Rodney knew his time was winding down. He'd been so tired when Carson had woken him up that morning. He'd been so hard to wake up at all that it had made Carson tight with fear, because, well...

He took the stairs two at a time, fumbling for his keys.

Carson's hands were shaking as he unlocked the door. He knew instantly that something was wrong. It was unnaturally quiet in the room and the air was heavy with a metallic scent that he knew immediately was blood.

"Rodney?! Rodney!" A few strides across the room, and he could see the couch. He froze, just seeing him there still as death, blood everywhere.

His worst nightmares for the last few years were distilled into a single moment that clenched his chest so hard he was thought he was having a heart attack as he stood there.

Rodney was there, stretched out on the sofa. His face and chest were covered in blood. Carson knew that kind of blood loss was painful. He'd wanted to be there when it happened, to hold Rodney, to just, just be there and ease him into that final sleep. But this, this was... God, he didn't know what to do. He was going to have to call the SGC even before the hospital, and tell them that was Rodney there, and ...

Oh, God. Zed jumped up onto the sofa, onto Rodney's chest.

Somewhere in reaching for the cat, he started crying, and he didn't care. He didn't care because everything had come to this and, in the end, he hadn't done anything. He hadn't produced a miracle and Rodney had died.

Had John waited to see what he had done? It didn't matter; he didn't care. Rodney was lying there ,and Zed was trying to pick her way through soggy, blood-saturated clothes to find somewhere to sit on his chest. His hands were shaking as he reached over...

And saw a faint motion. The cat was going up and down, as if there was some chest movement.

That was enough to snap his instincts into response, fingers reaching to find a pulse on the blood-crusted neck.

"Rodney?" He shook him then, wondering if the flutter beneath his fingers was a tactile hallucination. "Rodney?!"

"Uhn?" Oh God. Oh God! He was alive! He had to call 911! If Rodney could still sound groggy and tired , then he was still alive, and that was... He needed to do something about that! Zed ended up being pushed to the floor, so he could get a respiration rate that wasn't broken up with purring.

It was surprisingly healthy. Better than he expected. He fumbled with sticky fingers to speed dial the SGC while trying to get Rodney to respond. He snapped off an urgent request for an ambulance ASAP, then returned to trying to coax Rodney into sensibility. "Rodney. Rodney, can you hear me? How much did he give you? I need to know."

"Huh?" Rodney lifted a hand. Movement was good. Movement was fantastic, and so was seeing Rodney rub at his eyes. "Wha? Ugh! My mouth tastes like dead."

"Oh thank God!" he said aloud. "Rodney, how much did John give you? How much naquadah did you ingest?"

Maybe it had helped. And where was John?

"Ingest? Didn't ingest anything. John..." Rodney sat up slowly and he rubbed at his eyes. "One minute, we were, were just talking, and then he was pushing me down, and I... oh shit, is this blood?"

"Yes, it is. A lot of it," Carson said, checking him carefully. "As it's all over you, I made the assumption it was yours."

Now he was starting to get worried for another reason. "What do you remember, Rodney? He pushed you down?"

"He pushed me down, and I really thought he was going to, uh, where's John?" Rodney's eyes went wide. He seemed alert and awake, more than he had in weeks.

"I don't know." If it wasn't Rodney's blood, Rodney who seemed remarkably well at the moment, then...

"Hold on. John?" He stood to look around, striding over to the kitchen. Nothing. "John?" Bathroom! Sick people tried to get to the bathroom. He headed that way and there, tucked out of immediate sight, he could see a figure sprawled on floor in a disturbingly wide pool of blood. It was half-curled on its side with its hands flung out.

He knelt, leaning in close. As he turned John just a little, he remembered the flippant way John had described how he had been after the final confrontation. Bleeding out of pretty much everywhere.

It had sounded like an exaggeration, but it wasn't. Blood from his nose, his mouth, his ears, his eyes. It was oozing and pooling in his hands from around the fingernails. He wasn't slack with unconsciousness; he was rigid and tied in knots, faint tremors visible.

"John? Can you hear me?"

John was trembling, and no, he probably hadn't heard him. He seemed to be in the throes of a seizure, absence if not a full grand mal, complete with the blood oozing from any soft tissue membrane it could find its way out of. He needed a transfusion, and the SGC was the only place that could handle John without asking questions.

"Carson? Where's, oh. Oh, God! Do you want ... I'll call Stargate command."

"I've already called. I thought it was you," Carson said. "He's a bloody idiot." He carefully moved John and felt in his pocket. He pulled out the naquadah test tube. Empty. "He bloody well went and did it. He drank the whole lot. I thought he was going to try and give it to you!"

"What? That's, that's not drinkable! What was he thinking?" Rodney knelt down. He still looked like hell. The blood was congealing on his face and his hands. "It's a mineral!"

"Yes, well, the Ancient weapon he burnt out?" Carson began, thinking John had pulled it off because Rodney was moving, not even breathing hard. "It was actually something called a 'physicality transponder'. He used to be able to heal people, before the Wraith Queens. He's been trying to get it to work for, well, ever since we told him."

John's eyes were screwed shut, glued together with clotting blood as he shuddered. He tried to open them a little.

"Hey, what the hell were you thinking?" Rodney leaned over John a little, looking back at Carson like Carson would have the answer. "One minute we were talking, and then you, you... I feel great."

"Good," John managed, "because I really don't ..."

"Easy there, John. Did you drink all that naquadah?" Carson pushed. He had to know.

"Yeah." He was clenching his jaw again. Carson was pretty sure he was in a lot of pain.

"If you've killed yourself, I'm going to kill you, John. I mean it. I'll get you before the naquadah does." Rodney pulled at John, wiping at his eyes.

"Used most of it up. Feel it burning ..."

Carson was looking at him. "John, I'm not sure you know what you're saying," he said, trying to clean him up a little bit.

"Rodney's okay. Burned it up." John shuddered again. "Not gonna die."

But with that, he went into another convulsion.

"No, maybe not. But I suspect you'll wish you had," Carson said as he held him still. "How are you feeling, Rodney?"

Rodney sucked in an unsteady breath, then exhaled. "I feel great. I really feel like I'm okay, except that I'm covered in blood, and I thought... How long are they going to take to get here?"

"Soon. I called before I managed to wake you up," Carson replied, feeling immensely guilty about all the frustration he had poured out on John over the last few months. "He's not well. I think that what he described as what happened after the Hive Queens is what's happening now. He survived that, then." He paused a moment, struggling with John to keep him still. "The naquadah I had would've passed into his bloodstream only in very small amounts, even as it was a high concentration. I think ... I think it is not enough of it. He was right about it, after all."

"I wish I could actually follow this conversation, but I haven't been paying much attention lately, so uh..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders before leaning over to try helping keep John still, keep him from hitting his head.

"Later. I'll tell you later." He could hear the sirens outside. "We're all going. You need to be checked out, see how successful John was."

Rodney was alive. Rodney sounded like his Rodney, not the one who had been broken into pieces.

It was a miracle. Rodney didn't seem tired or dragged out. He was shaking, but that could have been shock as much as anything else. "Okay. I'll, uh. Huh, I was going to offer to help but they've probably sent an ambulance, so I'll just sit this one out. He's going to be okay, right?"

Carson didn't know. He really didn't know. All he knew was it had taken John nearly a year to recover enough to be able to walk when he was left with Keras. "He's strong, and we've got excellent medical facilities here."

The first thing he needed was a transfusion and then major painkillers. Later, when he was conscious, he'd get a good talking-to about what the hell he was thinking.

There was the sound of a group running up the stairs, barging in through their door. "In here! Two patients in here!" he called, still a little dazed, himself. He would take all this in, eventually, would come to terms with everything; but, right now, they just needed to get them to safety.

Bloodsuckers.

Every doctor Rodney had ever met was a goddamned bloodsucker. It was all they knew how to do. They were probably taught in medical school that it was a cardinal rule of medicine: When in doubt, draw blood. Vials and vials of it, even when you were covered in the shit and they weren't exactly sure that it wasn't yours. Rodney was sure that it wasn't his, unless bloodletting really was the medicinal cure-all that it had been touted as for a few hundred years.

It had taken forever for him to get to the point where he could have a shower. Then there had been the scans; he wished he'd been unconscious for those, and then they'd taken his clothes. So there he was, attractively dressed in a hospital gown and wondering whether everyone had stopped running back and forth from the partitioned-off section of the Infirmary, and what that might mean.

If that meant that John was in there, Rodney was going to have to get in there and stop them from doing that. Unless it was saving his life, but Rodney had seen enough using and a lot less helping than he'd ever wanted to witness in the SGC.

He'd lost track of Carson's voice somewhere in the proceedings. People kept dragging him off to explain himself or give him results that sent him off into his own babble of medical terminology.

It was definitely quieter in there. He watched a nurse go in, then after about thirty seconds or so, come out again. That probably meant no one else was there, and that no one would see.

Good, great, because the curiosity was killing him. Slowly, staggeringly killing him; he needed to know how John was. One minute, he'd been talking with John, and then the next, John was shoving at him and every fucked-up fear in Rodney's head had been right there. Carson had never done that, but Kolya did and he'd been horribly scared... and then there hadn't been anything.

And John had apparently saved his life - well, based on the fact that he was not in pain for the first time in months. And he could string more than a few words together without feeling like he had to assemble an encyclopedia in his head. Oh, and the startled looks people kept giving him, and flipping through his charts as if they had missed something.

He wanted to be able to remember what happened, but there had been that surge of panic and sense memory, then some light and warmth, and then nothing. Time to sneak in, see John, then bully Carson for real answers.

A, B, and then C. Rodney slipped to his feet and stalked with determination towards the curtained-off private area. He would get to John, and if anyone stopped him...

Nobody did, no one was there, and there was John, all cleaned up. There was a faint rouge smear on his cheek way too many IV drips, and ... No, that couldn't be right. Restraints on the bed. Deceptively comfortable straps looped over him. What the hell was that all about?

He'd have killed someone if that was ever done to him, so his first instinct was to step towards the bed and start to unfasten them. "Hey, John."

To his surprise, John actually opened his eyes, which were red with burst blood vessels. "Hey Rodney," he replied in a voice that held the mellowness of someone on strong drugs.

"Hey, John. So, why've they got you tied down, huh?" He continued unbuckling the left wrist cuff.

"Well, I was hoping it was for kinky sex," John replied, "but it's probably because I broke someone's nose and almost my own wrist with the last seizure thing." He gave a half smile. "Maybe you should leave it on. I don't want to break your nose."

"I'm pretty fond of my nose," Rodney told him. He snagged a stool with his foot so he could sit down beside the bed. "It worked. I don't understand exactly what happened, but it worked."

"Well, hey!" John smiled slowly. "Finally, huh? Sorry it took so long. It's a cool Ancient thing. Only I was broken." The monitors were beeping steadily beside him. "Looks like you and Carson get to do that growing old thing."

"Yeah." Rodney stared at John for a moment and then he leaned in to hug him, because he meant that, and oh, God. They could do that now. Pending a freak accident, he had every day he wanted ... well, he would have them. And he could grow old with him! He had more than just a few hours left. "You, you did this, John. You."

"Still holding out for the kinky sex angle," John replied, right into his ear. "I owed you both. You. Owed you."

"Hey, when we get you out of here, you might end up with more kinky sex than you can handle. You saved my life. And you put up with me being a tired asshole, and fed me and..." Things that Carson did. Things that meant caring to Rodney more than sex did. Thoughtful little efforts. He hugged John tighter. "There's no way to thank you."

"You know, I might be the one on drugs here, but I seem to remember you being in a relationship, in love, and that's all cool. So I'm thinking you probably don't mean that." He was smiling as Rodney hugged him, and for a moment there was strange sensation, warm and wonderful in his head and over his skin. For a split second, he could feel John there.

"Oops, not exactly under control at the moment."

"What, just what was that?" He sat back, finally, because the sensation was too-present and made his nerves crawl just a little. John had done that. That was an Ancient thing. That was what John had tangled with.

"The sensing thing, trying to connect again," John let his head loll back a little. "It likes connecting to people when I can do it. Really distracting sometimes."

"And you can't turn it off?" Rodney shifted the chair closer and reached to stroke John's fingers. "Are you sure you don't want the cuffs off? Because I'd be trying to chew my arm off."

"I'd rather not hurt anyone...or myself. I'll be having seizures for a while, I guess, going on past experience," John seemed unconcerned at the prospect, even as there were footsteps approaching.

"Rodney? Rodney?!" Carson obviously wondered where he had vanished.

"Hey! In here, Carson!" He shifted on the stool a little, twisting so Carson could hear him. Seizures. So, the state that Carson said he'd arrived in, that's what he was headed back to.

"What are you doing in..." Carson stopped when he saw John awake. "John, you really shouldn't be awake."

"Rodney came in," John replied in a laid-back drawl.

"No, I mean that in the way that I gave you enough sedatives to knock out a medium-sized elephant," Carson replied, hurrying over.

"It seems to me that he healed it out of himself; I sat down and he tried to heal me, too, and last I knew, I was pretty okay. We need a, uh, an off switch for John." And a bed for Carson, because he looked like he was going to fall over.

He nearly did stumble, but he righted himself and seemed to gravitate to him regardless of his intention to see John. "I've seen your results, Rodney," he said as he unselfconsciously touched him. "They've run them over and over. It gone completely, and all the damage, too. It's remarkable."

John was watching them through half-closed eyes, but he wasn't fooling anyone.

"It was John," Rodney pointed out, twisting a little to look at Carson. When they got home, he was going to celebrate with food and sex and getting Carson to laugh, and... "It was John."

"I gathered that," Carson replied and looked at John. "I wanted to be here to explain about the restraints when you woke later. I didn't want you to wake like this."

John shrugged as much as he could. "Doc, trust me. This is a lot better than the last time I did this. Seriously. And yeah, I did break bones then, as well. "

"I'm working on getting a naquadah shot that will stabilize your system, but in the meantime we'll have to give you colloidal stuff, okay? Most of it will pass through you, but it seems to be enough. I think your best bet for healing is doing it yourself." Carson added, "Are you sure you are feeling all right?"

"No?" John said with a smile, like he didn't care.

"And the kids didn't run screaming?" Rodney joked softly. He stroked his fingers over the back of John's hand, and then shifted over a little to make room for Carson on the same side. "You're not going to need this permanently?"

"Hope not." John closed his eyes then, smiling slightly. "Go home. Have a glass of beer for me. I'll be okay. Well, based on last time, I will."

"I'm not entirely happy about leaving you like this, John," Carson said sounding concerned. "You're not completely out of the woods yet."

"I'd rather you didn't watch me flail around trying to get out of them," he replied. Rodney could feel the start of another trembling shake in his hand. "Please."

"You already flailed on us once, John. If it would help to have company," Rodney offered weakly.

"It really, really wouldn't. Okay?" John replied. He could see the bright trickle of blood start up from his nose again. "Shit. Please, Rodney, don't."

Rodney reached out and ran his thumb through the blood. "Jesus, John. You can't, this happened the whole time after?" Bleeding and shaking. While he didn't want to get hit, he didn't want John to go through that alone.

"Yes," John replied through what appeared to be gritted teeth. "Carson, please?"

"Hold on a moment, John. We'll try a naquadah shot, one of the low concentrations, and see if it stops the convulsions," Carson said in a deceptively mild voice even as he moved rapidly to grab a syringe and inject it into the IV.

At first, it seemed like it was working. John stopped shaking. "There now. Looks like we are on to something," Carson said, relaxing a little.

With good reason, Rodney decided, as he watched John's convulsions calm down. He reached forwards again and wiped the rest of the blood away with his other fingers. At that point, contamination didn't matter much, particularly since John had just about opened a vein on him. "So, you need naquadah now? I've seen stranger dependencies, but if it keeps your newly transfused blood in your body..."

"I guess I only need it to use this thing," John replied slowing down his breathing with effort of will. "I..."

Whatever else he was going to say was lost when his eyes rolled back in his head. That feeling of heat, warmth, and light seemed to burst against Rodney's skin, caressing over him softly and reaching inside his head to brush over him there.

From the startled "What the bloody hell was that?" from Carson, he realized he wasn't alone, and neither did it seem ready to stop. John held himself rigid, then started to actively fight against the restraints to get out.

Get out and do what, Rodney didn't know. He could take a few guesses, but he still felt like he was putting the puzzle that was John back together. The reasons and the whys and how naquadah figured into it. He had to step back, though. The glow felt good, a strange tingle, but it wasn't.

"Let me go! I've got to... it fucking hurts! I've got to stop it." John was gasping as he yanked with a strength he shouldn't've had.

"Stop what?" Carson was asking, trying with little success to push him down again.

"I can feel them, all of them! The one in there with the parasite in his spine; the woman who broke her wrist; the marine standing at the door terrified of being put out, so he won't tell anyone he's got a fucking stomachache that's really his appendix about to burst! Let me go!" John cried in obvious desperation.

"What?" Rodney twisted, staring at Carson. He could sense everyone who needed to be healed when he was on the naquadah, but he needed it to stop the seizures. "Can we get him isolated?"

"Isolated where?" Carson said and staggered back as John managed to impossibly free his left wrist, swinging it out randomly. "This is as isolated as the SGC gets! Oh crap! Sorry, John..."

He grabbed for another syringe and had to fight to jab it in and get another drug into his system. Whatever it was, it was strong. John went out pretty quickly, leaving Carson huffing a little as he straightened up. "We could have a wee bit of a problem."

"No, really? What was the hint?" Rodney shifted off of the stool and stood up. He hadn't meant to snap at Carson. He managed not to do much more than shift on his heels uncomfortably. What idiot had taken his shoes, anyway?

Carson glanced at him and, instead of being annoyed at his comment, beamed ridiculously as if someone had given him the best gift ever. "You have no idea how much I've missed that, " he said even as he busied himself.

"Why did they need to take my shoes for a scan, anyway? What idiot thought that... Oh, for chrissakes, is this gown backless?" Rodney reached back, and realized that, yes, it was, and tried to close it with his hands. "We have to get John somewhere that isn't full of sick people he can miraculously heal and then bleed all over."

"I'm starting to realize why it took him so long to recover, before," Carson said. "Right. We can't do it tonight, so John will have to be on a continuous sedative drip. The only place that fits the bill is our apartment. We can put an extra bed somewhere and I can prepare some shots. If he can survive recovering in a tree, I suspect he will survive sleeping in our spare room. But it's so full of junk right now; we'll have to clear it out. What do you think?"

"He just saved my life in a very, very tangible way. And he's John." They'd been willing to extend a spare bedroom to him before any of this had happened, when he'd first arrived back. "So, by 'clear it out', you mean stick it in a box and try to wedge it into a closet?"

"Aye, that was pretty much what I was going for," Carson replied. "Look, you get dressed. I just put some clothes on your bed. I'll sort out about John to keep him under until we can get him out of here. And get permission from the brass."

"You won't have trouble with that." If Carson could talk medical circles around anyone, he could surely do it to someone with a degree in military blah-blah-blah. Rodney clutched the back of his gown closed, left the 'isolated' area John was in, and headed back towards his bed. He hated getting dressed in public.

But, at least he was alive.

It was amazing. He couldn't stop grinning. Rodney had complained about everything all the way home, and he loved it. Felt like it was a dream, some crazy, incredible dream. He was so different now from how he had been just hours ago. The pale, translucent look to his skin was gone, as was the sleepy, artificial dullness the illness used to crush his energy and mind.

Rodney's train of thought roamed all over, babbling, insatiable and he just wanted to sit there and listen. He needed reassurance this was real and not something he was just hoping for. It didn't get much more real that mopping up blood from the bathroom floor. "Have you found Zed yet? Please tell me we don't have a vampire cat to deal with."

"We're going to have a dead cat to deal with. It's like she performed some bizarre Family Circus routine. There's little bloody paw prints everywhere! When I find her..." When Rodney found Zed, he'd wash her feet off and hug her to death, and Carson knew it.

"She was trying to sit on what I thought was your blood-soaked corpse," Carson pointed out, rinsing the cloth again and giving the floor a final wipe over. "It was a touching scene, really, even if she spoiled it by purring."

"She purred?" Rodney's voice reached him from the bedroom. "Oh, you sick, sick kitty! You're not supposed to purr over my corpse! You were supposed to have a Lassie moment or something!"

He smiled to himself as he pushed himself up, stiff with tiredness and fatigue, but trying not to laugh. "I don't think a cat would tell you that little Timmy was in the well unless it wanted you to come and point and laugh," he said as he got some fresh water. He heard Zed's squeaking meow somewhere out there near Rodney.

He stepped outside with his sloshing bucket, bleach, and cloth. "Have you got her? I'm going to bleach the surfaces and I don't want her getting on them if she is covered."

"I've got her. Yeah, who's a brave girl? You're not getting rid of me anytime soon. I hope you're not planning on bleaching the sofa."

"I'm hoping that the blankets took the worst of it," Carson said. "Otherwise we'll be buying a new one and using that other throw."

He could hear Zed purring from there, happy to hang limply in Rodney's grip. "Wash her in the sink. That will be the worst of it." Once he had bagged up the things that had John had soaked en route to the bathroom. Mainly the throws and blankets, and they were hastily put in a garbage sack.

They were just things, and even Rodney wouldn't do much more than mourn the loss of good memories made on that sofa when and if they had to get rid of it. Rodney wandered into the kitchen with Zed just as limp and lazy in his arms as Carson had imagined. "Huh, pine."

"You can smell that?" Carson smiled again. "You realize that probably means your taste buds are back to normal, don't you?" That he could want to eat again, to drink, and... this was ridiculous. He couldn't want to cry now! There was nothing to cry about.

"Oh, God, I've missed actually tasting food. I haven't even been thirsty for the past couple of days." He trailed off, and then he was hugging Carson with one arm, probably so the cat couldn't get away. "I'm not going to die."

"No. No, you're not." Bloody hell, he was crying, which was ridiculous because he was happy! He just wanted to hold on to Rodney and not do anything else ever again. He couldn't stop, and it was stupid because Rodney was the one who nearly died, not him.

"It's okay, and when I say that, I mean it's really going to be okay now. We're, we can ... we're here cleaning up blood, but no one's dead, and God, Carson," Rodney sucked in a shaky breath and hooked his chin over Carson's shoulder, "we're alive."

"It was so close, so bloody close, Rodney," Carson murmured. "I need to have words with John about this last-minute thing he'd got going on. I thought I was having a heart attack when I got here. It was...I just thought you'd gone, you'd left me."

"I didn't want to. I was close, maybe. Everything hurt, and the drugs were..." Rodney shrugged against him, and Zed yowled until Rodney pulled back to hold her better with his one arm. "I'm sorry. It's like being alive all over again. Nothing hurts. I've been hurting since we got back to Earth."

"I know." And he'd've given anything to be able to take that pain away. "When John finally told me about the healing thing, I was so angry. So very angry because you had been in pain all the time" He wiped at his eyes. "I've not been very nice to John recently," he admitted.

John had saved Rodney's life, and now he had him back. It was Rodney as he'd been their first days in Dagan, only with the fear and Kolya-honed quirks toned down to the level they were at now. It was the best of the present and the past together ... and a cranky-sounding cat. "We can fix that. He'll understand, Carson."

He wasn't sure he would. John couldn't've been sure that it would work, even with the naquadah. His best case scenario seemed to be a year's worth of very slow, very painful recuperation. That wasn't really the sort of decision made by someone with a healthy, balanced outlook on things. "I don't like the idea that he's doing this as some sort of penance. If I'd known..."

He paused and swallowed again. "God help me, Rodney, I wouldn't've been able to stop him because I am selfish when it comes to you."

"Do think he would've let you?" Rodney pulled back a, tucking Zed up under her arm. "He's still, he... and he wanted us to be happy." Rodney twisted, pressed a kiss against Carson's neck.

"He still loves you, Rodney," Carson replied, opting to take Zed and put her directly in the sink so he could touch Rodney some more. "You know he does. He smiles and shrugs and makes it look easy, but it's not."

"If this is when you suggest that I leave you for him, I'm putting you in the sink with the ca-hey, she jumped out!" Rodney jerked. At least she was running back towards the living room, dried bloody paws and muzzle and all.

"I'd like to think I'm that noble, but frankly, I'm not," Carson replied, holding on to him. "We've talked. He's pretty much told me he's not even going to try because he can see you are in love, and it just seems..."

They'd got everything back now, after all this, but John hadn't. He would work out a way to get his health under control, he'd do that much, but that wasn't really anything.

"It seems, yeah. And, I do. Love you. It's still that stupid kind of love, too," Rodney teased, smiling and holding onto him still. "We're going to be around for a while."

"I know. I think it will take a while for it to sink in," Carson replied, just savoring the feel of it. "Are you sure you are up to having John here? I haven't even really given you time to think about it.

"Not that I need time. I was at Death's doorstep; I thought John had lost his mind and was going to attack me; then I was back from near-death and covered in blood; and then I underwent hours of medical tests. I'm in a perfectly clear state of mind." He hugged Carson again, fingers rubbing over his back. "I really need to get the blood off the cat, and, yes, John can stay."

"Go do the cat. I'll finish up in here and make sure we can actually get to the bed in that guest room," Carson replied. "When things have had chance to settle a little bit, then..." They would make love on every surface, eat everything Rodney hadn't been able to eat, do everything.

"Wining and dining and sex," Rodney promised. He pressed another quick kiss against Carson's cheek. "But I'm not doing the cat. it's good to play with your insane Briticisms. I'm cleaning the cat."

Carson found himself laughing at that, "Scottish, Rodney, Scottish. We've had more wars with the English than you'd believe. Clean the cat then, and I will drag the boxes you left all over the spare bedroom into a cupboard, closet, whatever you call it."

"Yeah. We'll reconvene in the bedroom." This left Carson to walk away to tidy up the spare room, but he could still hear Rodney as he turned on the tap, then Zed's yowling, and then Rodney's voice trying to calm his cat down. She'd been good with Carson while Rodney had been in the hospital, but at the end of the day, Zed was Rodney's cat. She'd missed him, had fussed over him, and been there when neither he nor John had been around. She deserved to be fussed over. Everything seemed incredible.

Rodney was alive, John was coming to recover at their place, and there was something, something to be resolved there. Still, the quicker he did this, the quicker they could get to the bedroom. Maybe they would be too exhausted to sleep or maybe Rodney wanted him; either way, it was a miracle he would never forget.

No matter what they did, there would be time for something else, time for them to rest and have sex and bicker and watch movies because they wanted to, not because Rodney was too tired to do more than lay his head in Carson's lap. It still felt like he was in shock. Rodney had gone from nearly dead the night before, lying in bed and drifting off through a blowjob, to arguing loudly with the cat while Carson cleaned.

The only thing that Carson was worried about now was that he'd wake up and find this to be some last, desperate wish-fulfillment hallucination. If that was the case, he never wanted to wake up ever again.

"Oh, Jesus, Zed! You broke the bottle of dishwashing detergent!"

John recognized the state he was in before he even opened his eyes. A bone-deep ache, pounding pain lancing from temple to temple in his head, and the distinct impression that someone had beaten him against a rock before wringing him out completely. That feeling was all too familiar. It reminded him of waking in the tree hut, the wind whispering and a faint delirium casting a haze over everything.

Only there was no swaying, no wind, no nothing. Just quiet. Slowly, his recollections came back. He experimentally moved a hand, expecting to find it shackled, which really wasn't one of his favorite things. No, no shackling. Okay, what was going on? He opened his eyes cautiously to look around.

He was in a room and the room had off-white walls, maybe cream-colored. Pretty plain. The air smelled like someone had sprayed air freshener, which wasn't very hospital-like.

And there was a curious meow pointed his way,

Cats definitely weren't hospital-like and John recognized that meow. He turned a little and rolled so he could see whether he was right or not. Yes, there was Zed looking up at him from the floor. That narrowed things down a little. He was somewhere with Rodney involved, then.

He hadn't really expected to make it once he'd felt the extent of the healing needed. He remembered feeling that compulsion to stop the illness around him before, but never so strongly, so desperately. It had to be the naquadah, and, oh!

There was a warm burst of energy that swept out and brushed over the inhabitants of the immediate environment. One very healthy cat. One healthy male with blazing thoughts; that had to be Rodney. One healthy, exhausted male with a mind like a vast ocean, accepting and deceptively powerful; Carson.

The burst of energy swept back, and it didn't test and reach forwards again. They were healthy, which meant that he wasn't going to be constantly trying to heal them, or feeling their pain like he had in the hospital. That was a relief.

Zed hopped up onto the mattress with another meow and started to nose at his hair.

"Hey there," John murmured. He reached with his hand to try and pet her. "Looks like I'm at... here. Their place." Not his own, he'd already worked that one through in his own head. She was chewing on his hair now . "Zed, stop that."

Clearly, the cat was more spoiled than he'd thought, because she took that as a cue to straddle his shoulder, both paws on his head to hold him still while she chewed.

Yeah, he was definitely in Carson and Rodney's apartment.

He remembered the SGC. He remembered waking up feeling strange, talking, and then cramping that led into a seizure. Then feeling great for a moment before the pain of what felt like entire base crashed in on him. Then he couldn't DO anything. He was trapped and he needed to do something.

Which was probably why he was here. No beeping machines, no nothing. It was great.

Well, aside from the cat attacking his hair. Okay, maybe he could get up and do something about that.

It was easy for him to sit up, pawing the cat off of his face and sliding her to rest down on the mattress beside him. He was still sore. He hurt down to the bone, but he could move enough to shift the cat and lay back down on the mattress again. There was no base crashing down on him, sucking his energy away.

This was a good start. A better start than he was expecting, considering how long he had spent barely conscious the last time he had overloaded himself. That time he wasn't even able to get up. The kids were always falling out of trees, getting hurt in hunts, and things.

That wasn't going to happen here. So, Operation Optimistically Getting out of Bed and Getting a Drink was a go.

John started with small steps, working his way up to it. He sat up again, testing his back muscles and his mobility, and then squirmed to the side of the mattress to slide his legs over the edge. Just like that, simple motions, until he got his bare feet down on a carpeted floor that was slightly cool against his toes.

Zed was watching him intently, and that made him pause a moment. Of course, the sensible thing to do would be to call for help, but since he was going to have to get used to doing things on his own again, he might as well start now.

He pushed up, gingerly putting weight on legs that had tried to tie themselves in knots whenever it all happened.

Success! Well, partial success. Damn! Where was the strength in his left leg? Oh, there it was, and there went his right knee. Crap. This was difficult. He was only intermittently working.

He needed a wheelchair, or maybe a walker. Or someone to drag him forwards, though he wanted to do it himself. He wanted to stand up and just get a glass of water or juice. Something simple, a little proof that he was doing better this time around.

The cat meowed at him again as he tested his legs.

"Zed? What're you meowing about?"

That was Rodney, and he sounded like the Rodney he knew and had missed. So much so that he had been desperate to do something, even knowingly risk death and put himself through hell to save him, even if it wasn't for himself.

Manly stoicism; he could do with some. Where was that famous high pain threshold? "Shh," he said to Zed, "I've got a thing going on here."

"John?" Rodney pushed the door open further, and just lingered in the doorway. "Hey. You've got Zed's attention, and mine. What're you doing?"

"I thought I'd take a bit of a stroll," John said, trying a step, "in the direction of a...shit!...drink." He ended up flailing around for something to hold on to, which was pretty undignified.

He caught the edge of the bedside table. By the time he got himself stabilized, Rodney had an arm behind his back and a palm pressed flat against John's ribs to hold him up. "Easy there. If you're not careful of your step, you might end up with a shit-drink. Zed's litter box is over in the corner."

"No wonder she's been giving me funny looks," John replied. He found the sensation of Rodney's hands very distracting. He couldn't seem to stop the reaching-out when someone touched him. There it was again; he found himself mesmerized by the feeling, and the connection came into play. He wanted him. He wanted him, and there was no way the golden warm feeling was legal. He wanted Rodney to feel it, too, and pushed it out at him unconsciously.

Rodney was still holding him upright, but his fingers slipped and splayed against him, over the fabric of his shirt, before he exhaled. "You're going to wear yourself out doing that, John."

"I can't help it," John said swaying a little. "It feels really good, though. "

Now it was slightly more explicable why there was never any lack of people to look after him.

He gave out that buzzing feeling of seeping comfort and that made it all make sense. Rodney didn't seem to want that, but he pulled John along, gently guiding him. "Yeah, it does. What do you want from the kitchen? I hope you're okay with this whole thing. Carson fast-talked the other doctors there to get you away from all of the sick people."

"Well ,that's good news," John replied as they made it out into the living room.

"Rodney, what are you doing with John? He shouldn't be walking around." Carson said, walking over to them both.

"Zed sounded the alarm that John was trying to make a break for it," Rodney declared, tone light as he kept taking John forwards. "He wanted a drink."

"Aye, I can see that," Carson said. "Asking for a drink seems to have escaped the both of you. Sit. I'll bring you something."

Yes, he could probably do with a sit down. "Look, Doc, no seizures!"

"Not yet, but if you strain yourself, there probably will be." Rodney twisted him a little and steered him towards the... huh. That was a new sofa.

"Don't stare. I know it's corduroy."

"What happened to the old one?" John asked as he carefully sat down. This wasn't so bad. He was shaky, but he was moving. He didn't have to lie down in a darkened room and not talk to anyone.

"You and Rodney happened to it," Carson said. "I suppose I should tell you that we actually kept you out of it for few days, John. We practically used up the entire stock of sedatives to do it, too. Quite remarkable, actually."

"You kept shaking it off," Rodney agreed quietly, sliding a pillow under John's arm to help brace him upright. "Like a zombie from a B-movie."

"Thanks, Rodney, that fills me with so many good feelings about myself," John said. Rodney looked great. No, he looked fantastic, and that was all he'd wanted, wasn't it?

"Here we go, John," Carson said, bringing him a glass of milk. "It's good for you. Lots of good protein."

"Thanks. So, uh, here? How did you persuade them that being here is a good thing?"

"Because we're both completely healthy now; because what you did worked; and because Carson's a doctor who's completely capable of looking after you in or out of the SGC. Also, you're not a security risk. It's not like the hospital is jail." Rodney took a backwards step while Carson pressed the milk into his hand.

Okay, that answered his question, but it wasn't what he really wanted to know. "Well, with the restraints," John shrugged a little and smiled. He wanted to know why they wanted him here, in their home. He knew where he stood; Carson had been unusually frank about things in their sessions querying the database.

"Which weren't helping you recover any more quickly," Rodney pointed out as he sat down on the edge of the coffee table. "Or at all. So we thought..."

"Well, I feel a lot better, " he said, smiling as he reached for the milk. "Going on last time, you must be doing something right, Doc."

"Aye, well. I feel a bit of a fool, thinking you might be giving the naquadah to Rodney," Carson admitted.

"Not that I wasn't at Death's door already," Rodney chipped in. "At that point, it was the thought that counted. Though you gave me a hell of a scare, John. I'm glad that you're okay."

"Well, hey, so am I." His memory surprised him with the recall of Rodney's eye's rolling back in his head. "Got to admit, I wasn't aware of what I'd done. I was, uh, sort of more inwardly focused."

"You saved my life. In case you hadn't already noticed, I'm back to my old self again." He was sitting on the coffee table, looking John right in the eyes, while Carson hovered. "Carson had the sense to call the SGC afterwards, though."

"I had noticed, and that was pretty much the idea," John replied. They would definitely want time together. "So if I go on like this, I'll be out of your hair in a few days.

"Uh," Rodney twisted and shot Carson a look, like he was looking for backup.

"John, I don't think you'll be going anywhere for a while," Carson said. "Even here, I'm a wee bit twitchy about what you might come in contact with. Your apartment would be the same, and if you had another seizure, or a hemorrhage, it could be very dangerous, indeed. No, you are staying here."

"Carson, I managed in a tree-hut and survived," John said, "and they didn't even have take-out. Look, I'll be fine. You guys will be wanting time alone, and you deserve it. It's been a tough time for you. You don't need me cramping your style."

"We're... Look, you're not cramping my style, Carson's style, our style. You fit in pretty smoothly with it ... and Carson's been home with me all week since you've been here." Rodney tossed that in with a teasing tone, but he was watching John carefully.

He drank a little of the milk and contemplated them both. "Okay, look. I swallowed something poisonous. I did a weird healing thing, then bled all over everything, making you get a stylish replacement couch. Then I woke up tied down in hospital and went berserk before being knocked out. Then I woke here. I'm missing something and I should probably see it, but I just can't right now. What is it?"

Carson shifted a little. "Rodney and I have been talking."

"About you and about us. And we're it. I mean, you and me and Carson. We're it. A lot of people have gone native, and they're never going to let us go back home because we probably would, too. They're still finding people, but..." It wouldn't be many, John knew. Radek was out there, somewhere, and maybe some of his marines. Miko, of all the scientists to survive, had probably done so because Rodney's yelling at her had given her nerves of steel. "And that growing-old fantasy of mine is pretty flexible."

John narrowed his eyes, trying to get his head around what Rodney was saying ... or not saying.

Carson sighed. "What Rodney is trying to say is that he, that we, don't want you to leave. Not just for the recuperation, but ever."

Oh. No, wait. What the hell?? "You want me to stay here while you guys have a relationship?" John looked at that. "I know you've called me a masochist before, but really."

Rodney laughed and covered his face with one hand as he got off of the coffee table. It creaked, and both Rodney and Carson stared at it for a moment before Rodney shuffled away. Hopefully, if it broke, they wouldn't get a corduroy table to match the sofa. "Well, we were sort of hoping you'd join in."

That hit him totally out of the blue.

"Join in?" John asked, looking between them both. "I thought we worked out where my place was, that was there was no place. Carson, you, match made in, uh, Dagan."

"John, I know a lot of this is my fault. I was jealous of you, I admit that. And it's because, well, you're you, and who wouldn't want you?" Carson said. "But it's okay, it's great, really. You saved Rodney and I'd been nothing but unfair to you."

"But you still have a problem with it," John pointed out. "And I was unfair to you first, so yours doesn't count."

"Yes, yes, and you can both nail yourselves to crosses and show off your stigmata all you want later," Rodney cut in. "Look, we can discuss this when you haven't just shaken off sedatives and Carson's caught up on a little more sleep. Are you hungry? Because I was going to try something with Kraft dinner that will blow your mind."

John found himself smiling. "Yeah. Yeah, I am pretty hungry. " He would eat and try not to flake out on them both. Rodney was right, he could work out what the two of them were talking about later; decide if it was misguided gratitude talking or if they meant it.

Either way, it was amazing what even a bit of hope did to his mood.

"Okay. Kraft dinner it is." Rodney scruffed John's hair, then beat a quick retreat to the kitchen, leaving John with Carson, who was peering at him thoughtfully. He didn't know what to say. He was grateful, more than grateful, but he didn't want to be tolerated or seen as the reason things went wrong. He'd already been that person.

"Sorry I worried you," he said in a low voice, "with the naquadah thing."

"I'd thought you'd killed him, and then killed yourself," Carson admitted, looking down at his hands. "It was all very surreal. I realized Rodney was still breathing because Zed perched on his chest. And then you tried to get to the bathroom? Look, I have to thank you for what you did. If you hadn't, I'd...I think I'd be planning Rodney's funeral right now."

"You know I wouldn't take that sort of risk unless we were at the end of the road," John replied watching him. "I'm not that fond of being ill. But for Rodney..."

For Rodney: that was the crux of the matter.

"For Rodney, you'd do it," Carson murmured, sitting down on the other part of the sofa. He was probably going to get up and supervise whatever Rodney was doing in the kitchen. John knew their routine well enough to know that much. "I do want you to stay here, John. I mean it."

"Carson," he shook his head a little, "you were right, and you deserve a lot more than what I did and failed to do, okay? I know your feelings can't've changed that much, and I don't blame you. You've always been the right one for him. I don't want this out of, I don't know, something."

"Pity is the last thing that either of us feel for you, John. And I think that if we were doing this out of gratitude, I'd spare you Rodney's cocktail wieners in macaroni." Carson stood up with a gentle pat to John's shoulder. "Just concentrate on getting better. I have a few ideas about how to make this functional for you."

"Functional would be good. Able to drive or fly would..." He shrugged his shoulders. If he could fly again, he would have everything. "I don't think I can go back to what I was doing anyway, even if they would let me. You have no idea how hard it is to hurt someone when you've got this going on."

"No, I don't. But I can guess; it's very hard for a doctor to break his oaths. To have all of that in my head," Carson shrugged his shoulders a little, a vague, dismissive motion. "I'll be back in a few. I think I smell exploding cocktail wieners. Rodney, are you using the microwave again?"

John sat back as Carson went to investigate what Rodney was doing. He could hear the two of them talking back and forth. He closed his eyes and exhaled. If they wanted to try this, he wasn't going to be the one to stop them. He knew when he was lucky. And tired. He was still tired and he yawned a little, drifting off as he heard their voices in the background.

"What's wrong with using a paring knife to cut them up? They're small, the knife is small, and, no, hey! Give that back! It's almost ready."

It might be ready, but John wasn't. He didn't even try to fight it. It felt comfortable and right to hear the two of them argue and bicker in the back ground. At the point where Carson was giving Rodney a lecture about knives, he drifted off into sleep with the faint hope things might make more sense when he had recovered a little bit more.

Jeannie was going to kill him.

He'd been good about sticking to the emailing her once a day regime, but he'd slipped in the couple of days before and the week and a half after what Rodney now thought of as his personal miracle. He couldn't just start up with emailing her again, not after he'd sat down and read the concerned tone of her last few emails.

Okay. The "don't make me come up there!" email to which he hadn't replied probably meant that she had been there during the worst. He needed to work out how to have an encrypted phone conversation, which involved routing the call through his computer so he could encrypt it. He'd been distracted by John, who had a tendency to fall asleep without warning. He also got the shakes, and whenever Carson gave him a shot, Rodney would have the rather disturbingly pleasant sensation of John's mind caressing him absently.

The phone call to Jeannie had been delayed. Of course, he also wanted to be sure. He wanted to be sure that he wouldn't drop dead without warning, and he wanted to be sure that his white blood cell count and his lymph nodes were as they should be. It was ironic that the best full-body scans involved radiation in one way or another. Wasn't that what had made him sick in the first place?

Carson had glared, and after about fifteen minutes of arguing, had pointed out that, as things stood, John would probably heal him accidentally anyway, so stop being a hypochondriac.

Rodney scanned clean for everything, and he felt great. Food tasted right, he got hungry, and he slept well, when he wasn't worrying about John. He slept and woke up without feeling like he'd been wrestling with Ronon all night. He woke up rested; that should have told him all he needed to know even more than the scans.

Which was why he was finally sitting at his computer with the encoded phone in his hand, dialing his sister's number.

One ring, two, then, "Carson?" His sister's voice sounded breathless and a little desperate. It didn't take a genius to work out what she was expecting to hear.

"Carson's at work. I hope you're not disappointed that it's me calling." Rodney closed his eyes so he didn't stare at his screen.

"Rodney?" She sounded incredulous. "Oh my God, Rodney! I thought you'd DIED already. That you'd died and Carson had gone to pieces! Wait a minute ... why aren't you dead?"

The phrase came around to haunt him again. "People keep asking me that, Jeannie, and I'm starting to get a complex about it. I'm not dead. So, um,hi." Hi! Hi, and he was all better now. Healthy.

"Hi? Hi?!" Jeannie sounded a little hysterical. "Hi and you're not dead? What sort of thing is that to say? Last I heard, last I was waiting for was a call telling me the end was nigh. Then I wondered if something had happened too quickly and Carson wasn't... I mean, I know what I would be like if it happened to Caleb, and oh God! I really thought you were dead, Rodney!"

"I'm sorry. It's a long story, and you deserve an explanation, but I had to encrypt the phone line." She was his sister. She was his sister, and she'd bought him a couple more months of time with bone marrow, even thought it hadn't been what had worked. "I was almost dead a little less than two weeks ago, and it's still a surreal feeling."

"Well, I gathered you weren't doing well when you sent some rambling email that seemed to be some sort of farewell," Jeannie said. "So am I reading between the lines here? Something's happened? Something has changed?"

"Actually, this connection is so well encoded that you don't have to read between the lines. John... John Sheppard, remember him? healed me. It scared the hell out of Carson, but the cancer's really, really gone." Simple, to the point. It didn't mention the feeling of dying, the fear or the relief, but he didn't think he could sum that up on the phone.

"John Sheppard, the one who Carson gets himself in a knot about? Who reappeared in your lives just in time for the disaster to hit?" Jeannie asked, sounding a little dazed. "I thought his specialty was last-minute acts of destruction."

"Surprise!" Rodney caught himself smiling at the phone. "Wait, has Carson gotten himself into a knot about John more than the once? Is this a repeat performance that no one's told me about?"

"We've talked," Jeannie replied. "I had to rough him up to make sure he wasn't going to take advantage of you." Her voice was dry and sharp, but infinitely less worried. "I get the impression Carson's in a perpetual knot about him. I would've thought you knew that. Bet he's completely panicked right now with St. John having saved the day. So how did he 'heal' you? Sounds a bit like some sort of charlatan faith-healing thing."

"He came into contact with a piece of Ancient technology that imparted a healing ability to him. Apparently, the old 'don't touch technology without looking for documentation first' rule went to hell after the city fell. He had to get a mineral that's rare in this galaxy for it to work." It had worked a little on faith. Rodney had a vague belief that John would come through no matter the circumstance, and a strong faith that Carson would do whatever was necessary.

"Okay. Health ability. That's a useful thing to have hanging around. They'll always want him around now, won't they?" Jeannie said. He could hear her trying not to laugh. "Only, only you, Rodney, could do this. Could pull off this sort of thing."

"Yeah. Between the ZPM working and the stasis chamber failing, I... I had something good coming. I'm cancer-free. It gave Carson the scare of his life; I was covered in blood, stretched out on the sofa when he came home. He thought John had tried to make me better by giving me the mineral directly, that it had caused me to bleed out, and that John had gone somewhere to kill himself or had fled the scene. John actually passed out from blood loss in the bathroom."

"Jesus, Rodney!" Jeannie paused a moment. "Okay, this is not sounding as easy as waving a wand and it all happening. Is John still in the hospital, then?"

"No, he could feel all of the ill and hurt people at the hospital. He's staying with us since this it's the closest he can get to around-the-clock care." Rodney switched the phone to his other ear. "I even cleaned the guest room. He's sleeping in there right now. He'll probably wake up for dinner, watch the news, and then go back to sleep."

"He's staying with you?" Jeannie asked. "What are you guys, some sort of weird gay sitcom waiting to happen? He's the one you had a Thing with!" He could hear her capitalize that, which was a little strange.

"Carson's been expecting you to throw him over for John since, since forever. You can't do that to him."

"I'm not going to! What the hell, Jeannie? I'm not going to or plotting to leave Carson. Do I harass you about leaving Caleb? Not that I haven't advocated it in the past, but..."

"Rodney, you sent me a card the night before my wedding saying 'It's still not too late!'" Jeannie replied. "So what are you going to do? Are we aiming for some kind of menage a trois, with the emphasis on the 'men' and the 'trois'?"

"You're really on a roll with your gay sitcom comparison, Jeannie." He'd been pretty proud of the card. It had actually been a blank get-well card, and it hadn't been too hard to scrawl his dire warning on the inside. "Yeah. I don't know, but, maybe. Look, I'm not leaving Carson. Now that I have the opportunity, you're going to be sick of seeing me at holidays. I plan to grow old with Carson and probably retire to Hawaii. Eventually. I'll be sure to invite you to the gay sitcom wedding when we do."

"You're not leaving Carson, but you have a live-in what? Lover?" Jeannie persisted. "Come on Rodney. Cake and eating it here? Or do you really want them both?"

He leaned his head back against the neck rest of his too-comfortable, ergonomic chair. "I really want them both. If you knew the clusterfuck of why John and I didn't work in the first place, and then he was with, well, tangled with Carson for a while. I just, I forgot how much I missed him."

He could hear her let a breath out. "Okay. Okay, sounds like you guys have a bit of sorting out to do. And I think you might want to demonstrate what you want. Talking can sometimes feel unreal until then." She paused again. "I was ready to come to your funeral, Rodney. This all feels a bit surreal."

"I was ready to be at my funeral. There's a reason we're in a holding pattern until John's better and my head's on straight. And Carson, Carson was killing himself trying to come up with a last-minute cure, and he's still winding down from that. The funny thing is that he might have found a cure for prostate cancer, certain types of it. So, it wasn't a complete waste."

"And you found a way to produce unlimited clean energy. That's definitely not a waste either," Jeannie replied. "Miller and McKay collecting a Nobel prize, huh?" He could hear her smile. He could also hear someone moving around in the kitchen.

"Yeah. Just another few years until all the research is tidy, but it's all downhill from here. I'll type everything up and apologize in an email, Jeannie. Either the kitchen's being robbed, John's out of bed, or Carson's home early. I just, I didn't mean to make you worried."

"You owe me. And start answering your damn email! We haven't worked out the McKay Paradigm yet, and your equations were getting a little drug-induced towards the end," Jeannie said. She softened her voice a little, "Send my love to Carson and John. Oh, and Madison is going to be so thrilled, I expect she'll call later when I tell her. Get Carson or John to hug you for me, okay? I think I'm going to go open some champagne or something."

"It might help those equations make a little more sense," Rodney snorted. He reached for his mouse to bring his computer back out of snooze. "I'll start with the email tomorrow. I just didn't want to magically start writing you again without telling you face-to-face. Er, voice-to-voice."

"I appreciate it, Rodney. I really do. And you deserve this. If anyone deserves this chance, it's you," Jeannie said. He could hear John's voice in the other room, very patiently trying to tell Zed to stop eating his hair. "Go, go. I'll let this sink in some and FedEx you one of my cakes."

"See, cake is why this whole still being alive thing is fantastic. Thanks, Jeannie. I just, yeah, thanks. I'll talk to you later. We'll do the Hallmark-style family reunion sometime." He'd let her get the last words in, and then he'd say good bye and hang up. Now that he thought about how close he'd come to never saying anything to her again, he wanted to keep talking.

"In our own dysfunctional way, sure. " He could imagine her smiling."I love you Rodney. Go. Go have complicated sitcom sex or something."

"Thanks, I will. Love you, too." And then he hung up, having slipped that in. It wasn't even suave or smooth or subtle, but he did it. He did it, and he was going to have plenty of time with Jeannie and Madison and, God help him, Caleb.

"Zed, look, no." John was making the tragic mistake of trying to reason with the young cat and was failing. "No! What is so tasty about my hair? Every time I wake up, you're trying to eat it."

Zed meowed in response, choosing the moment that Rodney came into the room to make another daring raid up to John's shoulder. "Ow, Zed! No! Get off!!"

On the upside, John was sounding better, even if his reflexes were letting him down a little.

"Morning, John." Well, afternoon. Whatever. John was awake and that was good. He realized as he rounded the corner why Zed was interested in John's hair. "Ah, you showered. She likes wet hair."

"She likes my hair wet or dry," John said, his bathrobe twisting a little with him as he finally hooked the cat into his lap. She decided to chew on his hand, instead. "I managed not to collapse in the shower this time, which is good."

"That's great." Except that he'd sort of liked watching Carson wrestle John up standing ... until Carson had told him to get towels so John could dry off. "I was going to get started on dinner. Any requests?"

"Something other than the Kraft dinner thing," John replied. "I'd cook, but the way I've been going, I'd fall asleep midway through. We could order out, but whenever we get pizza, something dramatic happens. I think you lace the pizza with truth drugs."

Rodney shifted and plopped down in the chair across from John. "Well, Carson will be home soon. I can get him to pick one up on the way back. Or I can call, and it'll be here when he gets here."

"Sounds like an idea," John replied and rolled his shoulders. "Every time I think I've had enough sleep, I need more. I was hoping not to miss too much of the course or something."

"You've noticed that you don't wake up hungry, right?" Rodney grinned a little as he watched that shoulder roll. "See, apparently, you'll drink Ensure and protein drinks in your sleep if someone sits there and holds a glass with a straw in it. Carson's made an art form of abusing the different stages of sleep."

"Carson's been feeding me in my sleep?" John stared at him. "No, wait. What flavor are these things? It thought the strawberry-smell was some weird side effect."

"Three flavors. There's a case of them on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator." Rodney could feel his grin creep a little wider as John stared. "It's either that or an IV."

"I'm not sure whether I'm grateful or creeped out," John replied. "I used to be able to wake up at the slightest noise."

"A thing of the past," Rodney shrugged. Since they'd decided on pizza, he was fairly sure he could walk away from John, keep talking to him, and order a pizza at the same time. He moved from the chair again, a little restless, and started towards the phone in the kitchen. "You're only allowed to be creeped out when you find the pictures I took of Zed on your head."

There was silence for a moment. "You know, being ill sucks. What else have you guys been doing to me while I've been asleep?" he asked.

Rodney was pretty sure he could wind John up a fair way before he stepped over the line. "I suppose if I tell you about the rodeo clowns, you'd to be unbearable to live with," he called over his shoulder as he picked up the phone and started to dial.

"We don't joke about clowns," John said, sounding serious. "I have traumatic memories about them. You know that. Don't make me get angsty on you."

"Well, someone has to. I'm ordering pizza, remember? It's been too strange a month for me to do it, so the honor falls to you." Rodney stopped talking over his shoulder at John long enough to hear the man on the other end of the phone offer a tenuous "hello?" before he rattled off his order and their address.

It said something that he had all their preferences memorized to the point that he didn't even need to ask.

John was half-sprawled on the couch by the time Rodney came back, and John's bathrobe wasn't covering a great deal. "Yeah, well, you could top me with the angst, so I'll pass. I just want to know when I'm going to get better."

He wasn't going to stare, wasn't going to. No, no staring. Rodney glanced at the coffee table instead, then started to look for Zed because she wasn't harassing John anymore. Litter, probably. Or water. "Carson's working on it."

"Carson should be getting some rest," John said in a drawling voice. "Us? We're resting. I'll have sleep stored up for years. You're not doing too bad since he switched out your coffee without you noticing."

Switched his ... "You're pulling my leg," Rodney decided, resisting the urge to get to his feet and check. "All my coffee is from a place down the road, and I grind it myself. It's all strange flavors, so I know he hasn't switched it since the last time he actually tried it. Their decaf smells like cat piss when it's ground up. Brews fine, but the grounds are foul."

"Hey, all I can say is I saw him go in there looking very furtive. There was some banging and that Scottish version of swearing, then he came out looking satisfied." John replied. "I'm not sure what he's got going on in there. Maybe a secret blend."

"Huh." It was hard to tell if he was joking or not. He looked sleepily pleased with himself either way. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to interrogate him later. How long have you been awake, anyway?"

"Not quite an hour. I was reading those textbooks you scribbled explanatory notes in," John said, "like, 'What a crock of shit!' and 'Please, impossible? Only if you are a lobotomized moron!'"

"Ah, you've gotten into my annotated teacher's texts." Maybe he could make that his next goal. Clean, rechargeable power for the world, then sane astrophysics and basic calculus books. Rodney leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs. "I was a little distracted in my office making a secure line. My sister thinks we're living in a gay sitcom."

John raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you twins or something? When she came up, she sounded just like you."

"Her voice?" He hoped that wasn't what John meant, because his sister's voice didn't sound a bit like his. The words, now, that was possible; they had the same intelligence and they'd been raised in the same caustic household.

"No, not her voice, Rodney," John said. "How she talks and the things she says. You would say the gay-sitcom line. In fact. I seem to remember you saying something similar back in Atlantis."

"Did I say gay sitcom then? I meant gay, situational comedy-cum-horror movie." Rodney watched the motion of John's eyebrows, watched his face. "And then it turned into gay survival-horror right before it turned into gay situational comedy in the middle ages. Like the first season of Blackadder."

"Oh I got a more Sherwood forest feel for my last bit," John said. "Though there were some elements of the gay there. Those kids grow up fast."

"And Keras, was it? He'd already grown up." That there had been something there hadn't slipped Rodney's observation.

He had established some sort of bond with John while they had been there and the look on John's face said it all. "Well, yeah," he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess he did."

"A lot of people did when it turned to a full-scale culling," Rodney rubbed at his face and stood up again. "Do you want some of that strawberry stuff to drink? We have vanilla and chocolate, too."

"Is it the sort of thing I want to taste when I'm awake, or should I wait to have it later while I'm asleep?" John asked with a quirk of a smile. "And that was after the culling, after the Wraith."

"The chocolate's actually good, kind of like a milkshake." He knew because Carson had been slipping it to him for dinner the two weeks he'd been at death's door, ringing the buzzer. "A strange, soy-based milkshake. I never asked, what planets did you all stay on, after?"

"We made a new base at Thasek. Had a couple of ZPMs from Atlantis, and lit it up like a Christmas tree, up to the point where it got blown up by the Wraith. Then there was pretty much, pretty much only a handful of us left." John looked at him. "We evacuated most of the people. That was when Elizabeth managed to get to the last flight of the Daedalus. Well, what we thought was the last flight, since it was shot to shit. Caldwell was holding it together with spit and a prayer, but by then, we had the virus thing. So we made a retreat until we came across the remainder of the Hoffans. Man, those guys. Seriously obsessed."

He didn't see the irony in saying that, as the one who had allowed himself to be captured. "So I guess we planet-hopped all over for about a month or so, and then hit them with the final plan."

"Somehow I'm not surprised that we didn't cross paths in planet-hopping. Carson had us stick to the planets we could tell had been culled." They were safe from further culling and there was food, even if it sometimes was rotting, but the empty vastness of a cleaned-out planet was disturbing.

No rotting food here in his home, his fridge, Rodney reminded himself as he opened the fridge door and grabbed a can for John. Then he set about looking for a glass, because it was so much more palatable if it didn't look like it came from a can.

"Rodney, I was pretty much not playing with a full deck by then. I had this thing going on, and it had been going on then for about six months. I was still trying to do things that meant shooting people, which was a really bad idea. And then we caught up with Ford, and he was, well, he was dying, but he'd taken a helluva lot of them with him. Made a real nuisance of himself and I thought, Hey, finally, I get to keep my promise. To make it okay. Only it wasn't. It really wasn't, and things kind of got on top of me for a while there, you know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Really well. If Carson hadn't been there, Rodney knew he would have fallen to pieces. And probably visa versa, but that was what had helped them both in the end.

John was looking at him. "Rodney, I guess what I'm getting at is that I can see that you and Carson went through your own hell back there, and here. And I wasn't a part of that. Not the important part. I'm not the same guy you saw before you headed away from Atlantis that last time. I'm different and you guys are different. I really, really like your idea of us, but I can't see how it will work when you guys are so exclusive. In a good way."

"Exclusive?" Well, of course they were exclusive, he and Carson, but he wanted John. That was why they were talking about it instead of just leaping into it.

"You're comfortable with each other, you fit together. Carson thinks the world, no, probably more than the world, but you know what I mean." John sounded surprisingly serious. "There's no gap, no space for me to slip into. Or maybe I'm looking at it wrong."

Rodney leaned over the sofa, offering John the glass. "Don't think of it as filling in the cracks. It's not. I still have problems and I don't expect Carson to fix them for me, to fill the cracks. It," he waited for John's fingers to close around the cold glass, then he tapped the straw with a finger so it spun around to John's mouth. "It just happened."

He sipped at the protein milkshake thing and didn't seem to hate it. "I get that. I guess I'm not able to explain what I mean...unless I say 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it.'"

John sucked at the straw a bit and shrugged. "I used to dream about you. And Carson. And the others, but a lot about you. I can't see anything aside from trouble if Carson came back and found me doing something like kissing you." It sounded like a statement but, and he could be wrong, there was a tentative hint of an offer there, as well.

"You're right. It's not broken." He wasn't broken and Carson wasn't broken, at least between the two of them. And as long as he didn't let his mind wander ... because John had offered. "Could I? Kiss you, I mean."

"Well, yeah," John said with a hint of surprise, "As long as I don't end up back at the SGC with Beckett-related injuries."

"You won't." If anyone ended up with Carson-related injuries, it would be Rodney, and it probably would be a punctured eardrum from yelling, rather than anything involving fists. He was the one who hit, flailed when things went wrong. "He wouldn't. And he and I, we've talked about it."

So Rodney leaned over the back of the sofa to kiss John.

And there it was, in the way he kissed, the something-different that was John. A symphony in a different key from Carson, not necessarily better or worse, but very different and with a whole host of memories. John's kiss was intense, consuming, blazing with need . It struck Rodney for the first time how intensely lonely John had been. Which was just weird, because this was John.

John was amazing and charismatic, but lonely despite it. While Rodney was an asshole and arrogant, he wasn't alone. There was something wrong about a world where that could happen. Rodney leaned down further, the edge of the sofa digging into his stomach, because he wanted to slide his arms around John's shoulders to deepen the kiss.

There was the taste of chocolate in his mouth, and John's arm curled up over his shoulder to pull him closer, into a deeper contact. His eyes were closed and there was the tingle of connection there on contact points. Lips, skin, and fingers buzzed with it, and he didn't seem to take a breath.

"Well , now, is this a private party, or do we all get to join in?"

Rodney pulled back a little, breathing hard. "You can join in, Carson, but the pizza guy has to stay outside." He twisted his head to look towards the door. Having an apartment with few walls between the rooms was great because he could see right past the 'dining' table to the door. Carson was closing it behind him, and he had the pizza, too.

"I thought we had a rule: no ravishing John until he can stay awake for at least a couple of minutes at a time," Carson said as he deliberately locked the door behind him and brought the pizza over.

He could see John was looking at him warily, blinking away some of the haze the kiss called up. Carson immediately came over and leaned to kiss Rodney, showing no sign of concern whatsoever.

That was a relief, a relief he couldn't give words to. There was talk, sure, but then there was action, and while Carson had always matched words to action, there was always a first time for everything. "He's been awake for at least an hour and a half, some of which was spent reading textbooks. Fair game, right?" Carson's lips were warm, familiar, and he smiled as he started to pull John upright.

"Oh, aye. Based on that, he's fair game for anything," Carson replied. "Let's make sure some of the more breakable things are put away before we start manhandling him properly. There might be some sort of collateral damage probability thing with the three of us rolling around on the couch."

"The three of us?" John managed hoarsely. "Now, wait a minute."

"If we wait more than a minute, John, you might be asleep again," Carson said pragmatically.

"I, uh, think John's a little baffled," Rodney mock-whispered, leaning in to steal another kiss from John before he stood up. "And we have pizza. Did you mug the pizza guy before he got here, Carson?"

"Pretty much, yes. It was that kid I told about the acne treatment. He's looking a lot better," Carson rattled on as he opened up the pizza boxes. "He said something about having to get back for a date after his shift." He smiled a little. Rodney was aware that John was waiting for Carson to say something more about the kiss, and he wasn't obliging.

And Rodney was just going to keep not-obliging, actually. The un-remarkability of things was usually what he and Carson thrived on, the ordinariness of their routines. John was going to have to get unused to analyzing things to death. Unless there was pizza, of course.

"Good for him. He looked..." Rodney twisted so John could see the hand gesture. John was starting to stand up slowly, holding onto his glass. "He looked sort of like he'd been attacked with hot oil, like that Wraith worshipper priestess from before everything.

John winced. "Ouch. Poor kid."

"Here John, eat this. If I know Rodney, you'll need your strength," Carson suggested, offering him some pizza.

"Why?" John asked, reaching for it.

"Well, he'll only be distracted as long as there is food left to eat," Carson replied.

"Oh, that's a lie," Rodney murmured, reaching for a slice of spicy Italian. "You were just complaining yesterday that I'm too easily distracted."

"Well, yes. I was a wee bit perturbed when you got up in the middle of sex to go get a snack," Carson said. "Not that I'm not grateful for your returned appetite, Rodney, but my attention was definitely elsewhere."

John was smirking a bit as he ate his slice of pizza. Rodney realized that Carson was being subtle, luring John in. Rodney pulled out a chair and plopped down. That was why he loved Carson: that, that subtlety, the same sort of tactic he used to draw Caleb's attention away from Rodney when they were arguing, but for a completely different reason. "It was snack or pass out," Rodney paused, chewing another bite, "from manly hunger."

"Playing second-fiddle to a sandwich does nothing for my ego," Carson replied, taking a mouthful of his own pizza. "Mm. We're going to have to stop ordering take-out. John and you both need something a little more nutritional."

"I like pizza," John volunteered. "So does Rodney."

"Don't make me become the domineering medical professional on you all. You both need a healthy intake of vitamins and minerals," Carson admonished even as he was clearly enjoying himself. "Mm."

"We'll start tomorrow. Hey, and look... John's got that drink you've been giving him." Rodney gestured at the glass John had brought with him. They'd probably have to reconfigure the old rotation schedule that had been stuck to the door of the fridge for the previous year and a half of who cooked what night.

"It was a little disturbing to find I'd been eating in my sleep," John pointed out.

"I would call it more of an altered state of consciousness than sleeping, John," Carson said. "It's really quite fascinating. Your brainwaves are generally having a field day. I suspect it is your body trying to assimilate the naquadah."

"I've got my eyes closed and I'm dreaming. That's pretty much sleep for me," John replied and deliberately slurped at the milkshake.

"You keep doing that, I'll almost almost feel jealous that I'm not drinking that anymore." Because solid foods were so much better. That whole "still alive" thing hadn't finished setting in. Rodney had a feeling that when it did, he wasn't going to be one of those people who were born again or ended up all light and happy, because that wasn't him.

Something bumped his foot. It was either one of them or the cat.

Oh, it was Carson, who, for all his tiredness from being the only one working, seemed to be sending him messages that he would follow Rodney's lead if he wanted to try it today. They had talked about it. It hadn't been a case of persuading; he knew Carson definitely found John attractive, but he had been uncertain about the consequences.

Rodney knew the consequences this time, so he wasn't going to screw it up, and if John pulled a stunt like he had the last time, Rodney wasn't going to let his common sense interfere with his sanity. John wasn't just going to walk away again, no matter what was going on in his head. Rodney smiled around his pizza, chewing, and nudged Carson's foot lightly in return.

John cleared his throat. "You know, I can see that," he pointed out. "You guys want to get closer? I'll move."

"It's Morse code," Rodney gestured with what was left of his pizza crust. "We're actually having deeply involved discussions this way. You can do it with eyebrow lifts, too."

"Oh really?" John inquired raising his eyebrows. "What did I just say, then?"

"You said that Rodney is still as insatiable as ever, and that he's probably thinking about sex right now. He always thinks about sex after eating, which is just a little disturbing, because one day, he might get a wee bit confused," Carson said promptly.

John stared at him. "That is uncanny. Nearly word for word, but minus the Scottish accent. Amazing."

"Thank you, " Carson said demurely.

That was how it was going to work, Rodney decided as he chewed idly on the crust of that first slice. Just like that. "Hey, I'll have you know that I've never mistaken one kind of hot dog for another. It's just good to have my libido back, is all."

"I wouldn't have known," John said. "Only you leave things in the shower,"

"Like what?" Carson asked curiously as he continued rubbing his foot over Rodney's.

"Oh, you know, used condoms, lube, the occasional astrophysicist..."

"That's not my blow-up Einstein," Rodney denied. He eyed Carson for a moment before he reached for another slice. "So, the pizza's okay?"

"It's a nutritional death-trap," Carson said as he took an enormous bite.

"Translation; he secretly likes it and would order it every day if they wouldn't throw him out of the medical profession for doing it," John added.

"That's bloody incredible. You sure you didn't get mind-reading as part of your inadvisable Ancient knowledge?" Carson asked, sounding half-serious.

"No, but I can tell how people feel about things," John said blandly, "when I'm connected up. Human lie detector."

"Really? Don't ever tell the SGC that," Rodney blurted, "because they'll do to you what they do to Carson."

"Well, it makes a strange form of sense," Carson said. "Lying manifests on a physical level even subconsciously. And we know John can manipulate right down to the genetic level."

"I'll take your word for that, Doc," John replied, still eating.

"Oh, aye, you did that with Rodney. You converted the cancerous tissue back into healthy tissue by correcting the malfunctioning enzyme that was allowing the cells to grow out of control. That was always my problem. I could work on ways to remove the cancer, but it had spread so quickly, Rodney would've had holes in critical organs all over the place," Carson replied. His eyes lit up. "Still, that neat little enzyme unblocker has a great many people very excited. We know it works on prostate cancer; we just need to adapt it to other types."

"Really? All I was thinking was 'make him well, make him healthy,'" John said. "Not that I wish the pain on you or anything, but, Carson, you should have this ability."

"I have a feeling that we all got the wrong ones, probably," Rodney decided, stretching his other leg to nudge John's gently. "Carson should have healed and you would have done better with the database, or with what I do."

"Hey, I want your shoving-things-around-with-your-mind thing," John said, smiling. "That's way cool." He looked at the leg a moment, but did not move it.

"Way cool, huh?" And like any stupid six year old or man over forty Rodney glanced at John's protein drink and gave it a gentle, careful push. He didn't like to do it much, mostly because there was the worrying possibility that he'd fry his brain out if he abused it wildly.

It was worth it, though, to see John beam like that. Someone else might be freaked out by it, but it filled John with a childlike delight.

"Definitely way cool."

"Just don't talk for a little bit Rodney. You'll be incomprehensible," Carson cautioned.

"And just how will we notice any difference?" John asked. He scooped up his milkshake and drank some.

Carson smiled back. "You might be like me and be used to it enough to fill in the gaps. Anyway, human lie detector, right? The solution to your concerns is obvious then, John."

John stopped mid-drink, leaving himself with a faint chocolate milk mustache that he unselfconsciously licked clean. "What do you mean?"

Rodney wanted to lean forwards and lick it clean himself. "Isn't it obvious? You think Carson and I are, what, playing with you? Or that Carson hates you and this is all my idea? What better way to be sure?"

"You suggest that I connect to you guys while we, while all three of us are having sex?" John asked, looking a little weirded out.

"Well, you'll know for sure, then. John, the truth is that Rodney and I have told you will we're blue in the face that it's what we want," Carson said patiently."It's not like a threesome is the strangest relationship set-up we've ever seen. It's practically normal. What are you worried about? It'll give you the answer you've been wanting."

With a rare moment of insight, Rodney realized that this was the problem. John was afraid of the answer; otherwise, he probably would've already done it somehow. He was afraid that if he got an answer, he'd have to give up all hope.

And sometimes the hope of something was worth more than reaching for, and failing to get, what you wanted. Rodney nodded and nudged John's foot again. "It's a good idea, you know."

"Pretty much all your ideas are," John agreed. He pushed the pizza box and nearly empty glass away. He seemed to be thinking, then sat back with deliberate casualness. "Okay, then. Nothing to lose, right?"

He saw Carson wince at the choice of words, and he knew why. Carson had confessed some of the things he had said while Rodney was ill when they had discussed this earlier. Rodney reached for a napkin to wipe his mouth. "Only because you'll find out what we're been telling you."

"Well, in that case, I've got nothing to worry about, huh?" John replied. "I'm ready when you guys are."

"You should know that Rodney is always ready," Carson said calmly.

"You two make me sound like I'm a huge pervert," Rodney sighed. Still, he scooted his chair back a little. It was partially true.

"More like a moderately sized pervert," John said with a grin. Carson nearly choked trying not to laugh.

"Har, har! Laugh it up, skinny." Rodney stood up and closed the pizza boxes. As long as they left them closed, they were relatively cat-safe. "I'm still catching up on a month of wasted time."

"Frankly John, I need you because he's wearing me out. I'm worried things might break or drop off," Carson said seriously.

"Uh-huh. Well then, you've come to the right guy. I can give you Captain Kirk's number immediately." John replied, equally serious, before cracking a grin.

"We already have Scotty," Rodney grinned, leaning down to startle Carson with a kiss before he pulled away to kiss John. Brief, both of them, and then he declared, "So, the bedroom? Because this distance thing is interesting to navigate, but..."

"Bedroom sounds like a plan, if one of you will help me get up," John said. Carson moved immediately to do it, helping John move through stiff muscles. "Your bedroom, I guess? Hope your bed is big enough."

"It's plenty big enough, and we don't always stay confined to that one area," Carson said as they started heading that way.

"Hence the cheap lamps we have," Rodney smiled. He sidled over to John's other side, putting a hand on his back so he could feel the shifting of muscles. Tonight, it was all about John.

Okay, so it wasn't going to be a complete sacrifice on their part. Sex with John felt like it should come with some sort of epic movie soundtrack. He remembered that; and he remembered how hot John had looked sucking Carson off, even when he was supposed to be angry at him.

Even so, getting to the bedroom was a big step. They'd talked about it so much, it was hard to believe John was finally going along with it.

He wasn't going to stop and question what they were doing, wasn't going to ask John if he was sure. After all, John wasn't some simpering virgin. Rodney just hoped that John didn't hit any of his triggers, at least not any of the explicit ones. John didn't seem like the type to pin his hands, anyway. "It's very discount-store chic."

"I find that an incredible turn on, " John replied. "And I'm thinking that I only have a robe on, while you guys are still dressed."

"We'll catch up. You make yourself comfortable on the bed, John," Carson said. He watched as John settled in and lounged there like some model, only without four hours of make-up and hair. Carson turned to him and winked at Rodney. He stepped forward to kiss Rodney and make a show of undressing him.

That was nice. Carson's hands knew just how to move; a surgeon's skills. Though Rodney was pretty sure that wasn't anything anyone taught in medical school. Carson's hands were skimming over the fabric of his t-shirt, sliding over his ribs, then down to his hips to pull the t-shirt up.

Carson was obviously playing to an audience, the way he slipped his hands over him, how he kissed him. It didn't take a genius to work out that he was trying to get John interested so he would forget his lingering hesitation.

So, Rodney found himself on the receiving end of a sensuous assisted striptease.

It wasn't as if he was going to argue. Rodney kept breaking up Carson's rhythm with kisses and he let his own hands pluck at Carson's button-down shirt. Rodney was fairly sure that he'd left for work wearing a neck-tie. He could imagine that it was stuffed in Carson's locker along with the rest of the growing stockpile of ties. He wore them for meetings and briefings, then took them off.

A surreptitious glance at John proved that he was watching, completely focused on the pair of them. Carson drew back from a kiss, "Aye, you are still beautiful even when you are a skinny little bugger, Rodney," he said, leaning in to kiss his neck.

"I was working on that with the pizza." Rodney had been trying to keep his eyes on John's face, but the kiss on his neck made his eyes close a little, out of his control. "Not fair. You're distracting me from getting your shirt off."

"Mmm, I know," Carson replied. "Now, just imagine how John is seeing this, seeing you like this. He's going to want you, need you just like you want him to."

Carson was steering him to the bed, softly and carefully, wrapped in kisses. "You just want me all to pieces." Except there was no fire behind the words, because if Carson wanted him all to pieces, he'd be in pieces already. It was easy to follow the steering while Carson's hands started to unbuckle his belt, popping the button on his jeans.

"I want you and John to decide what you are comfortable with doing," he said, loud enough to be heard by John. "I want to know which of the many inventive products of your imagination we will follow tonight. What do you want?"

Rodney had a thousand and one ideas, most of which started with getting John flat on his back and exploring him endlessly. He looked to John as Carson started to slide his pants off. It made Rodney glad he was already shoe-free and sockless. "John?"

"Hey, I'm easy," John said with a slight smirk as he propped himself up. "Let's face it. I haven't had sex for way too long."

"And you want it to be good," Carson said. "Just in case, hmm?"

John stopped a moment, looking at Carson, and dipped his head in a brief nod. "Rodney, I'll do pretty much anything, you know that. Body permitting."

"There's 'pretty much anything', and then there's what you want. What do you want? This is about you, John." About letting him feel it, making him believe it; about his not doubting Rodney anymore. That was what it was about. As soon as Carson knelt down and started to unbutton his own shirt, Rodney shifted to be beside John, to lean over and kiss him as a start.

"I want you. I want you and Carson," John said. "Like you said, I want you both, and I just want to feel you. I want to remember what it is like to have more than a blowjob."

"I think we can oblige there, John," Carson said. "It sounds very much like you are wanting one or the other of us to fuck you." He had such a gentle way of saying things; the word 'fuck' sounded very incongruous coming from him.

"Pretty much," John admitted, looking at them both.

Which was, oh. Oh God, that was a hot thought: fucking John, feeling him like that, getting inside of him and making him shiver in all of the good ways that Rodney had used to do. He leaned over him and started to press kisses against John's jaw. "You might want to specify who; otherwise, we might roll dice."

"Why rule out both?" John suggested in that drawl. "Roll the dice for first and second." Already, he was turning in towards him, kissing. "I could take you both"

Carson stripped off his last clothes and joined them. "Not in your current condition, John."

"Come on, this healing thing has to have some perks," John wheedled. "Tell him, Rodney."

"It does have some perks, except I've already had to clean blood off the cat once. That's pretty de-perking." Rodney leaned up and pressed a kiss over one of John's eyes, letting his lips wander over to John's temple.

"I wasn't inviting the cat," John murmured, closing his eyes.

"Zed generally invites herself," Carson said. "Well, then, I'll make the decision this time. Rodney, you take John and I'll ensure the rest of him, and you, are taken care of. All right?"

"See, you never expected this take-charge part of Carson, did you? He seems as sweet as a pussy cat until you start living with him and leave your socks on the floor." Rodney squirmed a little, sliding one arm under John, plastering himself against his side, trailing kisses down his neck. "If you laid on your side, this could be really interesting. Spooning isn't quite as boring as the name sounds."

"Never said it was," John said as Carson unwrapped him from the robe. He did it with a certain degree of expertise, ensuring that he ended up on his side with some help from Rodney.

"Don't mind me," Carson murmured. "I'll just be conducting a thorough examination here. Inch by inch."

Rodney pressed his mouth against John's neck, one of his vertebrae, and groaned quietly. He still tasted like John, that familiar scent-taste he'd missed, that he'd always associated with John. Now John smelled like Rodney's own soap and shampoo, but the taste was the same.

The sounds he made were still John, as well; different and unique, somehow bringing back that years-old feeling when there had been life and death, sex, and that heady sense of euphoria. It helped that he could glance over and see Carson on John's other side, intent on kissing him, and John's hands moving on flesh he knew as well as his own.

That really was a beautiful sight, John's hands sliding over Carson's body, beautiful in the different skin textures and tones. Carson was somewhat paler than John, his tanned hands contrasted sharply with the flat, shiny white texture of Carson's scars. He could watch those motions forever. He closed his eyes and started to worm his way down, leaving caressing kisses over each of John's vertebrae.

He hadn't done this in forever. John's body still seemed fit and well-muscled for all his convalescence. He had said he'd been working on it some since he got back, and Rodney guessed he hadn't had a lot of other things to do when he hadn't been helping with his illness.

He felt John shiver as he hit a particular spot. For a moment, he was worried that he had set him off into cramps, then he heard Carson murmur, "Don't worry, he always used to do that when I kissed him there."

John huffed out a breath. "You know, it's not fair if you are exchanging notes on what I do."

"This has nothing to do with fairness and everything to do with exploiting your weaknesses." Exploiting them in a great way, too. Rodney repeated the kiss against John's spine and smiled to himself when John shivered again. That was probably a feeling that went right down to John's balls, Rodney guessed, because it certainly went right down to his own balls.

"It's a very sensitive spot," Carson agreed. "And I'm sure there was one around here, somewhere, as well." He was hunting diligently somewhere underneath John's ribs. He obviously hit pay dirt when John inhaled sharply and tried to move a little against him.

It meant he got a slightly bony ass thrust back against his stomach, the sort of gesture that made Rodney wish he'd been kissing John's neck; he could have used that pressure against his cock just then. Still, he wasn't going to stop and back up when he was halfway down John's back, sliding his hands just a little to squeeze that ass.

"Don't, don't you guys think you'll get away with this," John replied. "I still remember your weak spots. Oh, crap! Rodney, what are you waiting for a red carpet into my ass?"

"Now that really would be an impressive sight," Carson murmured, held still by John's clutching. "I don't think he is used to being on the receiving end of so much attention, Rodney."

Rodney shifted, feet off the edge of the bed, kissing at the small of John's back. "Actually, I think I can simulate a red carpet into his ass." He still tasted like John after all, and he'd done that with John before. He knew that John's reaction to rimming wasn't going to be one that led to Rodney being donkey-kicked.

Quite the opposite, from memory; John had gone very still and then made very deep groaning sounds before trying to order him breathlessly to get on with it. Of course, he'd done it in his own time, and of course, today, he had Carson apparently considering sucking on John's cock at the same time.

Rodney glanced up, caught Carson's eyes, and then gestured down to John's crotch, hoping to encourage the obvious before he pulled at John's asscheeks and licked along the crack.

From the rather strangled "Jesus!" from John and the apparently complete indecision about whether to push forward or backwards, he guessed Carson had synchronized his own timing to match Rodney.

"That...is...not nice," John managed, gasping for breath. "I don't remember you teasing this much before McKay."

"I learned patience." From a master, from Kolya, but Rodney certainly wasn't going to think about that. He wasn't going to let that run free in his head, no. He opened his eyes and was up close and personal with John's ass. He leaned in to lick another line along John's crack, tongue lingering around his hole.

He could see John's hands clutching at Carson, as if using him to steady himself, then he moved just a little, making noises of satisfaction as he did so. "I thought I had, too, until I had Carson sucking me off like a champion and you doing ... whatever the hell you're doing to me back there," John said.

"Rimming," Rodney declared cheerily before he slipped his tongue into John's hole, spreading his asscheeks wide.

"Oh, no, no, Rodney! I swear if you don't put something more substantial in there in the next thirty seconds, I'll..."

There was a slight slurping noise and then Carson said, "Considering how fast Rodney can talk and how well-exercised his tongue is, do you really want to miss out?" he asked with a definite smirk in his voice.

There was a pause, then John said, "Damn you! Now I'll never be able to listen to fast talking without getting a hard-on."

"Welcome to my hell," Carson said unsympathetically before returning to torment John some more.

He laughed against John's ass, then hummed quietly, his tongue prodding deeper, twisting and worming around as far as he could reach. The act itself was dirty, yeah, but he also knew how good it felt. It was something worth sharing.

"Oh! Oh, fuck!" John was definitely trying to move then. "Okay, okay. You are both asking for it, the pair of you."

Another low laugh from Carson. "Seems to me, John, there is not much you can do about it."

"That ... that's what you think."

Rodney pulled back, breathing a little hard, kissing the small of John's back. "We have you captive."

"Yeah, well, I'll have you know I am trained to resist erotic torture for at least three minutes," John managed, "and I have a secret weapon."

"I think I've got my mouth around it," Carson half-mumbled. "I'm heroically throwing myself onto the secret weapon. It's a far, far better thing I do..."

That particular soliloquy was cut off by an overdone slurp.

Rodney smothered a laugh as he shifted up John's body again, kissing his way back up. He needed to try and effortlessly find the lube and a condom without breaking the tone of the easy conversation. John was still intense, but sex could be easy, sex could be fun. John needed to know that.

"I'm warning you," John replied, but his tone lacked conviction as he groaned in a way that sounded incredibly sexy. Rodney managed not to kill the lamp, which had to be a first, and retrieved the lube.

"Carson, condom?" Rodney leaned over John with one hand reaching out, trying to open the lube with his other hand.

He watched as Carson patted around beside him, trying not to stop what he was doing.

"It's not like we'll need it," John mumbled, "considering. "

There was a crinkle of cellophane and Carson tossed something at him.

"I know, I know, but it's a personal issue. Makes for quick clean-up." Rodney fumbled it open pretty quickly, trying hard to keep body-to-body contact with John as he slicked himself and rolled the condom down. There, that was done. Now he could finger John for a while.

The moment he started, it seemed John was more than ready. He gave a strange all-over body quiver and a hoarse cry. And then the warm, golden feeling of the connection swept over him. This time, it was more intense, more focused, as if warm hands were sliding over his skin, under his skin, sending tingles swirling around his cock, up into his ass.

"Bloody hell! John is that you?" Carson exclaimed in a hoarse voice.

"I did warn you," John replied.

"Huh. That's a hell of a secret weapon." Rodney's fingers faltered. He could barely concentrate through the warm haze. The intensity of sensation slid over his skin, under and into him while he tried to ready John for what they both wanted him to do.

"You better believe it," John replied and shifted.

"That's incredible! I can actually feel your hands on me," Carson was saying. John smiled, then there was more of the sensation, more of the feeling that was ... yes, was mirroring what he was doing with his fingers on himself and, from the sounds of it, on Carson, as well.

"Distracting," Rodney murmured, pressing kisses against the back of John's neck again. Then he felt a hand ghost over his ass, brush against his hip. "That's amazing and distracting."

"I don't see why I should be the only one feeling this way," John replied. Then there was the brief sensation of lips over his cock, fading with tantalizing suddenness.

Carson was moaning happily from the front, reaching up to kiss John hard and deep. The sensation of it burst over all of them, almost involuntarily broadcast by John.

Kissing and being kissed while he squirmed his hips, trying to slide into John. Rodney slid one arm over John's chest, reaching to tweak a nipple. "Feeling that is ... God, John!"

It was like having Carson and John on him even as he was nudging, then pushing at John. With each push, there were bursts of sensation like invisible detonations of arousal exploding against his skin. Carson had moved, devouring John's mouth. Maybe his concentration was wavering. The feeling washed over him in waves and sensations, centering on encouraging the need to fuck, to push in hard and lose himself.

It was easy. It had always been easy to meld against and into John. He'd loved that, loved watching John's face, the way his mouth would twist and his jaw would fall slack. Now Carson was getting to see that, up close and personal without John's legs bent up to his chest. Rodney shifted, squirming his other arm under John's chest so he could really feel over him while he worked his hips in and out, savoring the heat of John's ass.

He could feel Carson's arm reaching around them both, then he was moving as well. John concentrated on that feeling and sent it out so that he felt the hands, the touch, the aching sensation of fullness, and the magic of every movement burning a trail that filled him inside and out. He could feel the harder, faster, deeper sensations calling out from John; the way Carson pressed against him, rubbing skin to skin. Holding him there was turning him on. The world focused down to the feelings in the bed, here and now.

It was him fucking John or John fucking him or Carson in John; but Rodney could feel it, and though he knew, technically, where he was in things, what he was doing, he felt everything echoed over and over until he thought he was going to explode. And then he did, and even that echoed, reverberating among them, triggering another one, and then another.

Rodney could feel John in him, then, and Carson, too, as if the link and the intensity of a cascading orgasm had merged them for that split second. He felt a sensation of knowing. Absolute knowledge of Carson, how he felt and how he really was okay, more than okay with this; there was a small part of him that couldn't believe he still had Rodney, let alone John. Every word from Rodney made Carson's heart sing a paean of wonder and gratitude. And there was John, like fire and sky, soaring with his release, with the wonder of second chances, of risks taken, something pulled out of a darkness where everything that had mattered had been taken from him.

And him, they must've, in that moment, experienced what he felt.

Rodney didn't know what he felt, except the relief that everything was okay and that it was going to keep being okay, come hell or high water. And the delight that they were all there, that he was alive and John was alive. They were staid thoughts, not soaring like John's or as deeply moving as Carson's near-religious feeling. They needed the combination of them all to make something balanced and healthy, and if he was going to be the grounding force in their sex, he was fine with that.

The connection snapped loose even as the three of them lay panting, tangled, and sticky on the bed.

"Well, that was interesting," Carson said, his words cutting through his internal amazement. "John? Oops, looks like we tired him out a wee bit."

John tried opening a groggy eye. "Hey, I'm fine. And that was... good."

"Are you two competing in the annual Understatement of the Year competition?" Rodney snorted. He nuzzled against John's neck, not ready to pull out just yet; he was too warm and comfortable. He could laze a bit before he got up and washed off.

"Yeah," John said. "You wait until I get a handle on this, get a bit of control." He made no attempt to pull away.

"I, for one, was enjoying you without a lot of control," Carson replied, gently stroking the back of Rodney's mussed hair with a smile.

Looking over the side of John's head and, oh, ears! Rodney leaned forwards and licked the line of one slightly pointed ear. "See, and we even have a nice, big bed," he murmured, slowly sliding out of John. He held the condom against his body with one hand.

John chuckled. "You don't have to sell it to me, Rodney. You had me the moment you both got onto the bed with me."

"Really?" Carson asked. "Well, if you told us then, we would've spared ourselves the exercise. For God's sake, put it in the bin, Rodney. You know if you toss it over the side of the bed, Zed will find it and carry it around with her for days."

"Which is the most disgusting thing you've ever seen," Rodney noted for John's sake. He rolled off of the bed, pulling it off. "I'll be back in a second. Just..." He never had to explain it to Carson.

"It's okay, Rodney," John said, sounding more relaxed and tired. "I'm not going to make a strategic retreat in the ten seconds you are gone. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm not going anywhere."

Carson stopped a moment and gently brushed at John's even-more-tousled hair. "Are you sure, John?"

"What can I say? I can never say 'no' to Rodney," John murmured.

"I'm so holding you to that the first time we argue over something stupid like groceries or movies." Rodney slipped into the bathroom and didn't bother to close the door while he reached for a wash cloth and ran the tap.

"Well, okay. I can say no, but it never gets me anywhere," John amended and Carson chuckled.

"Hurry up, Rodney, John's passing out on us here," he called out.

"Am not," John said, not sounding very convincing.

"There in a second." It took him more than a second, but Rodney padded back into the bedroom, carrying another wrung-out wet washcloth in his hands. John was still lying on his side and Carson was leaning up on one elbow. "Hey. Is he out?"

"Pretty much," Carson replied absently stroking at John's face and shoulder. "Just a wee bit knackered from all the fun and games. I'd be surprised if he wasn't, to be honest."

"That's the longest he's been awake for weeks," Rodney agreed softly, kneeling on the mattress behind John so he could wipe the lube from his ass-crack before he offered it to Carson to clean John's front. "So."

Carson did the honors, getting a faint mumble from John as he cleaned over his cock. "So. I think he is convinced, and that's what matters, isn't it? That's what we wanted."

"What I want is to keep him here, keep you here, and try that 'until a natural, old-age death' thing." He wanted to do that more often, really often. He wanted to have both of them when he came home from work. Work, hah! God, that started soon, too. Doctor McKay, back from the dead to harass people through their math courses. Rodney reached a hand out, curling his fingers over Carson's cheek, brushing the hair just back from his temple. "We're going to have to rotate who sleeps where."

"Or we buy a bigger bed," Carson said. "Or a bigger place. A house," he said as he reached and took Rodney's hand, kissing the fingertips. "There's bound to be times when one or other of us is working late."

"I still like the apartment thing. In case we ever have a huge falling-out with the SGC, we can leave." Or if aliens attacked. He'd prefer to not buy a permanent home near ground zero, on the one hand; but the Mountain was the safest place to be, so Rodney wasn't sure.

It would take a lot of thought, and Carson would humor him through it. "I'll get him a copy of the keys. That's something that doesn't take much thought."

"We'll work it out, Rodney love," Carson murmured. "I think we already have, and I think we should keep certain elements of his abilities under wraps, like you said. There is a lot of potential there."

"He should be the one to decide what he does with it." Like Carson hadn't been able to, like Rodney somewhat hadn't been able to. The only reason they hadn't dragged him back into the SGC was because he'd been dying. Now that he was not-dying, well, Rodney would have to come up with new and creative ways to rebuff them. He settled down on the other side of John, but his fingers were still on Carson.

"I agree. Now that we know what it was and that the database has entries for it, we can look into it, see what he can and can't do. I don't want the SGC getting any bright ideas about locking him in with a group of Ori to get the same effect as he had on the Wraith," Carson replied even as John shifted just a little.

"Somehow, I doubt it would kill evil Ancients," Rodney muttered, pressing another kiss to the back of John's neck. Shit, he didn't have boxers on. Well, if he woke up later in a sweat or something, he'd bother to put them on then.

"No, but I suspect it'll only be a matter of time before they come looking at us for answers to that little conundrum," Carson replied. "So going back to teaching is a good thing. It means they have to think twice before taking you out of the public eye. Despite the student death threats, you'll be safer there. So will John."

Safe. There was something very aquarium-like about academia. It was isolated and intense. You sort of got tired of seeing the same fish swimming around, sure, but it was nice in a way, too, like Atlantis had been. That same intensity. "They have their Dream Team, SG-1. We solved our own problems; they can solve theirs. The ZPMs should help," Rodney yawned. "Mm, pizza and sex are a deadly combination."

"Perhaps we should suggest that as a weapon to foil the Ori," Carson said even as he leaned over John, kissed Rodney, and settled back down again. "Right now, though, I'm suggesting sleep as a cure for everything."

"Yeah. I'll clean up and make breakfast in the morning." Rodney stretched a little, and then wrapped himself closer to John, one hand still reaching over him to have that connection to Carson. He could have his cake and eat it, too. He could have both of them.

Perhaps after everything, he was getting some sort of reward for everything that he had done. First Carson, then John, and the irony of the situation was that they thought they were the lucky ones. That was the amazing thing. But then, Rodney was used to amazing things, producing amazing things all the time. He was pretty sure that, among the three of them, holding on to this would be a piece of cake, no matter what circumstances were thrown at them.

John found studying and being in academia again a lot more interesting than he had the first time around. Possibly that was due to the fact that he had a sudden and immediate memories of how the rather esoteric equations and theories he was learning could actually become practical. There wasn't that nagging suspicion that these were just paper exercises. As they would do some working through, it would click as to exactly what life-and-death situation that particular bit of math and applied physics had solved.

Maybe that was it, or maybe it was the variety of weird experiences, alien devices, illnesses, and a hundred and one other strange experiences, but not only was he enjoying the course, he was finding it comparatively easy. That, coupled, with his very laid-back attitude had led to a few problems to start with.

Mostly, his fellow program members thought he was insane. They stood in a huddle outside of the classroom door until Rodney showed up to unlock it, trading barbs about Rodney and muttering about the research and their own problems with it. John usually propped himself against a wall, drinking his coffee and joining in a little. Mostly he just watched the other ten or so people in his course panic and flail and throw venom.

Rodney was pretty much the scourge of the department, although John wasn't his TA. He ended up working for Professor Thompkins after they'd put him through a pretty thorough interview process. For all the strings pulled by the SGC, he wasn't spared any of Rodney's short temper when he made the mistake of asking something that a moment's thought would've made unnecessary. He got in the habit of listening more than speaking and of playing dumb, which initially got him some suspicious looks. It had served him well for years in the military, and it worked up to a point in academia, as well. Right up to the point where Rodney started putting the pressure on and the others started to go into a tailspin around him. Things got a little tricky when people worked out that he and Rodney were old friends or together, then started muttering about favoritism and bias. All the things that he had been a little worried people would come up with. Not for his sake, but for Rodney's.

Rodney really enjoyed his job. It was funny; John hadn't always thought that Rodney would do well teaching, but seeing him in action was fantastic. He was just as passionate about it as ever, and that was something John didn't want to accidentally cost Rodney.

He'd been quietly worried about it and Carson had prodded him a little over dinner one evening. Rodney had a class from 7-10 Thursday nights, which guaranteed John and Carson time alone together to get used to each other -- and had led to the confession.

The one thing about Carson is that he tried to think in the long term and fix long-term problems. He knew about handling people under stress, that you couldn't just order them around. John always had, though he had a way with people, until he talked with Carson and realized how difficult it was to be a genius and be exceptionally good with people. He was a genius in his own line, but he didn't talk about it.

Some Carson-tips later, and John had ended up running a semi-official Rodney McKay Support Group. When students went to talk with Rodney, they would be advised to take a variety of special lattes to be guaranteed Rodney's attention for the period of time it took him to drink them. They were given tips on what sort of questions would end up in a shouting match and which ones would get him thinking. He stopped people from asking for clarification of things that should've already been covered in the lectures by them having a check with each other on a private mail group before they ignited Rodney's short fuse. They were things he worked out while he was doing his TA work for Thompkins, but he knew Rodney. He knew how he reacted and why he reacted. The upside was, the others saw that he wasn't getting any breaks. If anything, Rodney was pushing at him harder.

From pariah to everyone's favorite guy; he didn't mind any of it, especially when he got to have lunch with Rodney like he was today. He was in a better mood than he might've been without all John's little interventions.

Rodney had no idea, either. Or if he did, he hadn't said anything to John about the suddenly solicitous students who maybe weren't as stupid as he'd thought.

"So, Thompkins was telling me, no, bragging to me -- that you're his best TA ever."

"Oh really?" John grinned a little. "It's just a matter of making sure he's well-supplied with Earl Grey tea and that the papers are graded. It's not that difficult."

Thompkins was easy to deal with. He was smart, yes. Not up there with Rodney, but much more adept in the intricate politics of academia. That was why he was the head of the math department. Among the three departments Rodney taught classes for, none of them had actually outright claimed him. Apparently, the physics department was warming to Rodney, but it wasn't a sure thing. "You'd think, but he's been angry with me since they hired me on. And now he's Mister Personable?"

"Rodney, that's because he probably had more complaints about you from traumatized students and staff than anyone else. Most people don't get away with telling students that they're too stupid to breathe," John replied, still smiling. "Can we sit away a little at lunch? This morning's been pretty intense."

"Huh? Oh, sure." Rodney gestured with his head to the far corner of the staff cafeteria, towards an empty table. It seated four, but no one would sit with Rodney if John didn't, so they weren't going to be crowded out.

"Great," John said, relieved. He needed to check his naquadah levels. Among them, they'd come up with a monitor that made it look for all the world like he was testing his blood sugar. Most of the others assumed he was diabetic, and that was fine by him. A university was a surprisingly unhealthy place, and sometimes being too close to large groups of people could be a problem. He still didn't have this thing under control, and both Rodney and Carson would give him hell for it.

The cafeteria reminded him a little bit of Atlantis; he felt comfortable getting their food there. " So, how's it been this morning?" he asked, glancing over at Rodney.

"Dull. I'm thinking about bumping my office hours to later in the day, not going in until ten or so." He lifted his eyebrows at John. "Except then, they'll be complaining about the change in my office hours. The undergrads never come, but they'd complain."

"You're complaining because no one has visited you?" John asked. "That's a first. I thought you didn't want to be bothered. The next stage of the almighty research ready to be planned?"

He still missed flying. He thought he could be happy here if they would clear him to fly, maybe test pilot some of the things he knew the SGC was building. But they were a little bit away from that at the moment.

"Procrastination is one of the things that helps me best," Rodney pointed out. "Anyway, Sam's been off, and I'd rather do anything there with her there. The other scientists are too stupid."

They moved along, getting their food. "And that's your professional opinion?" John said amused. "I thought you were going to go and heckle Flaubert's lecture, rub his nose in the fact you came back to plague him."

Dr. Flaubert had been most disgruntled when Rodney returned dramatically in complete 'remission'. Rodney had been convinced the man had been drafting up his death notice and had it stashed somewhere in his office.

"It's just not as fun to humiliate someone in front of a room full of 20-somethings," Rodney decided, reaching to grab the blue jello. "I'll wait until the next big conference."

John smirked a little bit, choosing the same because he didn't particularly like it and he knew Rodney would just steal it, anyway. "Carson said he was hoping to get out of the all-departmental briefing they've got on at five tonight. If he does, he should be back by seven. He said no pizza, and no more mac and cheese. Apparently, we've got to have something with vegetables in it."

"Huh. That's a challenge. You have any bright ideas?" Rodney was the last person John had ever suspected to be content with domesticity, but he was. He probably had half a dozen ideas in his head, but he asked John anyway.

"Vegetarian lasagna?" He could just about manage that with the help of a recipe book. "Not worried really. I suggested vegetable pizza, but Carson wasn't convinced that was a good plan." They headed back over towards the table.

"We could do lasagna," Rodney decided. He had two glasses of soda balanced precariously with his food, but somehow he got the tray over to the table, and settled down across from John. "So, are you ready to grade midterms?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that," John replied as he settled. "Is there some big deal about them that I'm missing?" He took the little monitor from his pocket and put his finger in it, watching the numbers settle. Not as bad as he thought. If he dropped below something like 7 parts per...something. Million or billion, he wasn't sure, but that was when he went into seizure. Right now, he was at around 10.5, which was a nice level, though a bit below the 12 Carson had decided was a good average.

He'd get a dose when he got home and he'd be all right. Rodney tipped his head, read the monitor upside down, and then nodded at him.

"Well, Thompkins has, what, four courses? One grad class and three undergrad. That's a hundred, a hundred and twenty tests total?"

"I did think maybe he might do a few of them," John half asked, half stated. "I'm taking it that was a stupid assumption."

It probably was, thinking about it. "You got someone doing yours?"

"Nope," Rodney assured him cheerily. "I grade mine myself. I only have the one undergrad course this time, and I don't bother giving my grad students midterms. See, the theory is that a student needs midterms to know how bad they're doing so they can either withdraw or try harder. At this point, the grad students should already know if they're in academic trouble or not."

"I don't think any of yours are going to withdraw, though," John interrupted himself. "We met up this morning, talked over a few things."

Normal things, but they'd been close enough that certain things had been very noticeable. He cleared his throat.

"Really?" That got Rodney's attention as he played with his straw in the first glass of soda.

"What did they say?"

"Oh the talk was the usual, but," John leaned in, "Katie conceived last night. Or possibly first thing this morning. Obviously, she doesn't know it. Oh, and Peter and Rufus have finally got together, from the feel of them, things got a little wild last night. He was passing it off as a hangover. Lauren is taking some hormone thing and it's screwing her moods right up; they've not diagnosed she's got an underactive thyroid."

Rodney stared at him a little, then he stuck his fork into the salad he'd snagged. "Fantastic. My students have lives that are clearly interfering with their ability to concentrate. Should I be the creepy professor who leaves them 'congratulations!' notes?"

"No. I think I've dealt with it. Mentioned Katie was looking really good, like with a sort of glow and that the last time I'd seen that sort of thing, it had been my cousin, a completely fake cousin who was having a fictitious baby. She looked worried enough afterwards, I think there will be a stop for a kit on the way home. Peter and Rufus, well, I'm gonna have to slip Peter some lube; I think they think they are in a porn movie or something. Spit just doesn't go that far, and Lauren... I just made up some advice from Carson. Told her to go back and demand a full thyroid work-up," John said. "All that before we started on those exercises you gave us."

Rodney grimaced. "Jesus, they're how old? They have to be in their mid- to late-twenties, Peter and Rufus. They really think sex works like that?" Rodney snapped his fingers, startling John a little. "Aha! Now the proofs Peter handed in that were done in crayon make so much more sense!"

John chuckled a little. "Anyway, that's the gossip. I wanted to point out Andy to you, the quiet guy." The guy who never said anything and only had one class with them. "Remember him?"

Rodney chewed a mouthful of lettuce and celery, tapping the edge of the salad plate with his fork. "Baseball cap guy?"

"Baseball cap guy," John agreed. "Never says anything, doesn't seem to be paying attention. Thing is, you want to know who he feels like? Zelenka. He's got a mind like Zelenka's under that baseball cap somewhere, and..." He shrugged. He didn't know what to do about it, but he knew Rodney hated people coasting, hated a waste of intelligence.

And Rodney missed Zelenka, John knew. Never mind that he'd worked with him for a year and a half before he said his last name right; Rodney missed him, missed his science and his theory and his jokes. It wasn't the same way he'd missed John, but it was there, tangible. "Huh."

"It was only because today, he was sitting inside my uh...'personal space'," John replied. "I don't know what to say, really, only that everyone seems to think he's a nothing because he doesn't do anything. And I know you hate a waste."

"I do." And not everyone was a loudmouth like Rodney. "I'll think about it, see if I can draw him out. Radek wasn't Mister Personality in Antarctica, either." But under the right circumstances, given the right opportunities, he could be.

"I'm figuring he's got to have some sort of respect for you. I'm just a TA," John said as he ate some more lunch. It felt good to be able to do that sort of thing, not just to do the work, but to realize after a while that he had been trying to make a team again. He couldn't let go of his habits. "So we're not getting any sort of a midterm?" he asked. "I was looking forward to seeing how much of a bastard you were going to be."

"80% of your grade hinges on one project," Rodney grinned. There was lettuce in his teeth before he closed his mouth and took a swig of his soda. "You want me to be more of a bastard? I knew you were a masochist, but there's enjoying pain and just being silly, John."

John let his eyebrows do the talking. "I have to live with you and Carson and a scarily obsessed cat," he said."I don't know why we worry about that complicated schedule for the bed. It's Zed's and, occasionally, she'll let one of us use it. We might as well face facts."

"Well, someone's completely spoiled her." Rodney managed to keep a straight face for a full ten count before he looked up at John with a goofy twist on his mouth. "Well, okay, I spoiled her, but that's what pets are for."

"Zed runs the house. Somewhere along the line, we became her devoted subjects," John said. God, he loved seeing Rodney smile like that. It was light and easy and fun, and it meant that, somehow, things were working. He wasn't exactly sure how things had gotten to this point, considering it hadn't even been a year since he had been barely mobile and totally reliant on a bunch of kids, isolated from everyone and everything he knew and loved.

And then he got this. He paid up front for his second chance, and got it and more. Carson, as well. Carson who was the glue that stopped them flying apart. Who stopped John and Rodney's natural tendencies to emotional disaster and pointed them the right way. Who was starting to shed some of his own doubt.

Because Rodney managed not to focus solely on one of them or the other. He tried to do things for the both of them, and when Rodney indulged in a fit of what John could only call Rodneyness, Carson had remarked it was now easier to calm him down than it had been with just Carson there. Two heads were better than one. Somewhere along the line, Carson had started to believe that John wanted them both, not just Rodney with a surprise side of Carson.

Everything felt like it was going to work, and they deserved it. They deserved that happy ending.

"When Elizabeth comes back through again, we'll have to thank her."

"Yeah. I didn't even get much chance to talk to her before she was off again. I was out of it," John said, watching Rodney.

It was funny. Rodney had felt that it was more likely to be Carson with a side order of John, but the three of them together were something he hadn't realized could be so good. Not until it happened. They talked work at home: Rodney demanding that he be allowed to storm up to the SGC at least three times a week to stop them from mistreating Carson; Carson demanding at least the same amount of times that John should be taking it easy and not healing just anything. And himself? He was trying to look after Rodney and Carson because it was natural to him. More than his team, more than anything else. And if he never flew again, this was another way to fly.

It wasn't perfect, but it was something tangible, something he could have that wasn't going to leave him. Or it might leave him, but if anything happened to Rodney or Carson, then he, he'd try his best. He'd try and he'd do his best, and that was all they expected of him. To do his best and enjoy what was there in the moment, what they had together.

Lunch with Rodney, attending classes, coming home to Carson, daydreaming about prototype planes.

He watched Rodney eat, having some of his own lunch. He listened as Rodney talked about this and that, why this departmental edict was stupid, and the fact that they had a new professor who kept leaving granola crumbs over everything. He bounced right from that to the equations he was working out, one that should mean he could disprove one of the archaic 'truths' of applied maths. From there, they moved to a discussion of what they should do for Carson's birthday, and then a strategic postponing of the brainstorming when it got a little lurid. He loved the way Rodney just stopped, and instead of being embarrassed, he looked around to see who was jealous and whether he should say it louder.

This was what he had missed, what he thought he had lost even when he had been found alive. This was the everything, the closeness of them all that meant things were unspoken, natural, and real.

He watched as Rodney, still talking and still eating, finished his dessert and, without hesitation, or even needing to ask, reached over and took John's and started eating that, as well. Love was a blue jello dessert with all the implicit, unspoken knowledge that John had got it for him, and wanted him to have it. So he could just take it, and there didn't need to be any barriers between them anymore.

John just smiled and watched him eat the proof that they understood each other again.