Author's Note: Thanks to my sister for all her help with this chapter!

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"You're kidding, right?" Kavanagh asked with a nervous grin.

Weir stared him in the eyes, her face dead serious. "Try me."

Kavanagh folded his arms. "Then I'll be here for a very long time. Because I am not going to subject myself to a procedure like that to save a contemptible-"

"Watch it," Teyla growled.

"-goddamned-"

"I'm warning you . . ."

"Casanova like Sheppard!"

Teyla hit him, a vicious right cross connecting squarely with his solar plexus. His breath left him in a rush and he stumbled backward.

Kavanagh ricocheted off a top-heavy file cabinet, setting it teetering as he collapsed, gasping, to the floor. The cabinet struck the wall a few inches to the right, then bounced back to land with a sickening crunch on Kavanagh's left leg. He cried out in pain.

Beckett jumped forward to move the cabinet, and Weir could see that Kavanagh's leg was badly broken, the bone poking through the skin. Fighting down a sudden urge to throw up, she caught Beckett's arm as he stood to gather supplies. "Doctor Beckett," she said with all the authority she could muster, "you are not to lay a finger on him until he agrees to the transplant."

Beckett and Kavanagh protested loudly and simultaneously.

"I can't withhold treatment!" Beckett cried.

At the same time, Kavanagh ground out through clenched teeth, "He can't withhold treatment! It goes against everything in his Hippocratic oath."

Weir glared down at him. "But he is under my command. And I am bound by no such oath."

Under less serious circumstances, she might have laughed at the look of terror in Kavanagh's eyes as the prospect of bleeding to death occurred to him. "All right, do it!" he almost shouted.

"Thank you, Dr. Kavanagh," Weir said sweetly. "Dr. Beckett, he's all yours."

It was only after she'd left the infirmary entirely that she allowed herself to slump against a wall and tremble. If Kavanagh had called her bluff, Sheppard would have been as good as dead.

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Teyla was in the infirmary the instant Dr. Beckett allowed Major Sheppard to have visitors. His eyes were closed; he was probably asleep, but Teyla didn't want to leave. She sat in a chair beside his bed, and took his hand in hers.

The sound of his voice startled her. "Hey, Teyla."

"John. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Beckett says I'll be out of here by the end of the week." He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Of course, that's what he said last time."

"I have every confidence in Dr. Beckett's expertise."

"Oh, so do I. But I can't help thinking that bug might have left another nasty little surprise. One he might not catch until it's too late."

"I don't think that's very likely."

"I know." He looked at her, and his haunted expression sent chills down her spine. "But it's not impossible."

Neither spoke for several moments, until Teyla broke the silence. "On a less serious subject, I came across an Earth colloquialism today that I don't understand. What is a 'Casanova'?"

"Casanova was . . . Well, let me put it this way. Have you seen any James Bond movies?"

Teyla nodded. "I've watched two or three with Dr. Grodin."

"OK, good. That makes this easy. Casanova was the Italian version of James Bond, but without the guns and spies and stuff."

Teyla was confused. "And that leaves . . . ?"

Sheppard's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Why, the Bond women, of course."

Oh, yes. He was going to be just fine.