I tapped my earpiece. “Dr. Z, how you holding up?” I could see his location at all times from my position roaming on the outskirts of the woods, but there was nothing like touching base.

There was a hiss of static and then, “How am I doing? Do haje. Zatracene. How am I doing? Arrows, there are arrows…everywhere…through the air. Whoosh whoosh. How think you I’m doing? What you are doing, that is the question. What hell you are doing, Major?”

He must’ve been frazzled. His usually mild accent was suddenly thick enough to butter bread with. I looked down at the Snakeman at my feet. The mouth was open, fangs glittering in the now fading light, and the eyes, blood red with elliptical pupils were fixed on me, but it was dead. Hell yes, it was dead. Thin purple blood steamed in the open air and I stepped back as it approached by boot. I did my best to ignore the atavistic shudder of dread that traveled down my spine and answered the man. “I’m whittling them down, Dr. Z. One by slithery one.”

“Well, obviously is taking too long. Did you talk peace? Did you try?”

Actually I had. They were non-English speaking unfortunately…a rarity in the Pegasus galaxy…and I wasn’t the most fluent of hissers around. But I gave it my best shot. Stood half behind a tree, held up my hand in the hopefully universal sign of peace. All it had gotten me was a dose of venom spit in my direction. Most of it had hit the tree, but some had splattered on my vest where it had smoked for several seconds. If it had hit my eyes as intended, I would’ve been blinded. And two seconds after that I would’ve been dead…an arrow to the heart.

I stopped making nice after that.

“They don’t seem that interested in the whole let’s be friends concept,” I responded. “The barrier holding up okay? You having any luck with the DHD?”

There was a sigh every bit as exasperated as Rodney’s best. “Yes and maybe. Now leave me to work. Go. Kill snakes.” I’d thought he signed off, but there was one last hurried command. “Oh, Major…Major!”

“Yeah, Dr. Z,” I said patiently. “I’m still here.”

“Eat other sandwich. Peanut butter. Stick to your ribs.”

I raised my eyes to the sky, shook my head, and moved on without answering. I started to give Snakeboy a wide berth, but then hesitated. I had no idea how long we were going to be here and eventually I’d run out of ammunition. The last time I’d used a bow and arrow had been in my backyard twenty years ago and that particular incident hadn’t ended all that well for Uncle George. Still, no time like the present for a long forgotten hobby. I picked up the fallen bow and eyed it critically. “Oodalolly,” I said under my breath with a grin. Then I sucked it up and forced myself to maneuver the quiver of arrows off the limp serpentine body. There was something to be said for the cool alien rasp of the scales under my hands, the sticky reptilian blood…and that something was all bad. Considering how close those sensations had me to barfing up my last sandwich, I ignored Zelenka’s order to eat another one. Instead I took the time to smear my exposed skin with mud to dampen my heat signature as much as possible, then headed off on the next hunt.

Snakes…goddamn snakes.

“Snakes, huh?” Rodney had said last month over Zelenka’s latest batch of hootch. This one was different from the rest. Rich ruby red, it tasted like berries and honey and turned your piss bright pink for days. Until he’d figured out the cause, Beckett had been overrun for almost two days in the infirmary by scientists who were sure they were bleeding internally and grunts who were positive they’d picked up a penis rotting Athosian STD.

“Snakes,” I’d confirmed, propping my feet on his bunk. The man had Albert Einstein sheets, he honestly did. Nothing but floating heads with big hair interspersed with the occasional Emc2. It was more than a little disturbing.

“Huh. At least it’s not fungus,” he’d commented obliquely. He had been reclining in the only other chair, his glass precariously balanced on his knee. He furrowed his brow. “Okay, sharing. We’re sharing here. I’m supposed to reciprocate, right?”

I’d snorted. “Don’t strain yourself, Supergeek. Hey, when you finally have your first kiss, you can tell me about that. Fair?”

“Funny. Funny stuff. I can’t believe you gave up such a promising career in comedy for the Air Force.” He took a sip. “Although at least you kept the clown hair.” Tossing an arm over the back of the chair, he sighed dramatically, “Okay, okay. Bonding moment. Heart to heart. Deep dark childhood secrets…let’s see.” Brightening, he sat up a little. “Oh, hey, I slept with a nightlight until I was fifteen. How about that? Is that good?”

“Actually that, Rodney, would be more in the category of things you tell no one…ever. Secrets of the grave I think they’re called. Fifteen?” Albert and I gave him looks of mixed sympathy and derision. “That’s…well…pathetic about covers it.”

He scowled instantly. “It’s not my fault. It was my sister Jeannie. She wanted to be a doctor. She kept trying to cut me up in the middle of the night when I was asleep. Forgive me if it made me a little twitchy. I woke up one morning with a dotted line in red marker down the middle of my chest. She said she was ready for a go at open heart surgery. A nightlight was all I had. If I’d had a machete I would’ve slept with that under my pillow.”

“Oh Christ, that’s good.” I grinned with dark glee and dropped my feet to the floor. “No wonder you have doctor issues.”

“Yes, no wonder,” he said sourly, taking another swallow. His eyes dropped to my feet and widened slightly, puzzled. “What’s that? By your shoe? Is it…could it be….”

“Oh, shut up, you asshole,” I grunted. “Like that’s going to work.” I had another drink myself. Perfect and sweet, it was worth cotton candy colored urine.

“It is. It’s a snake. I swear.” He wiggled his index fingers in a drunkenly serpentine motion and made a sound that was more reminiscent of a deflating tire than a snake.

“You’re such a shithead, and a pretty lame one at that.” I rolled my eyes and only happened to casually catch a glance of the floor while I was at it.

“Ha!” He pointed the finger at me with triumph. Toasting his victory, he drank and asked casually, “Okay, I was afraid of the dark due to a psycho sister with a surgical obsession. What’s with you and the snakes? Too much Adam and Eve in church? Organized religion does inspire phobias wherever it goes. Or some sort of Freudian issues I really don’t want to know about maybe? What?”

“Nah.” I put my feet back up on the bed. I mean, seriously, you never knew, right? Atlantis was water-bound, but there were such things as sea snakes. Sneaky bastards. “An equally psycho counselor tossed me into a pit of them at detention camp when I was thirteen. Terms of the settlement preclude me from going into further details.” I grinned, fast and bright. “Paid for a lot of polyester track-suits though, let me tell you.” Turned out the guy had the same amount of fondness for a teenage smart-ass that my father the good Colonel had…absolutely none.

There’d been a little more and a little less to the conversation after that. More talking, less alcohol. Some things are better with beer-goggles and some are worse. When it involves imagining snakes in the far shadowed corners of the room, beer-goggles definitely makes it worse. They hadn’t been poisonous snakes of course…just a big nest of Black Racers. I probably as much scared the piss out of them as they did me…I just had more piss. As lessons went, it had turned out to be fairly effective. I now had a snake phobia to put that of Indiana Jones to shame and a nice healthy disdain of all authority. A love of flying the really cool planes overcame the latter…somewhat.

Nothing was touching the former.

I found that out the hard way when Snakeman number six jumped out of the tree onto my back.

The first explosion knocked me back about ten feet, the second one broke my arm. Luckily it was my left arm. That was the only thing that kept me from killing Kavanagh. Well, actually, that and the lack of time. I do strive for accuracy in matters of attempted homicide.

I stared up at the vaulted ceiling and watched it spin lazily. The sun was long gone now even with the long Atlantis day, but the predawn stars were framed by amber glass strongly reminiscent of church windows. They might’ve subcontracted the gate, but they’d forked over the big bucks for the decorator. Wasteful, really. They could’ve bought more dialing mechanism components with the money instead…frivolous bastards. Still, I had to admit…it was rather attractive if you cared about things like that. Right now I so did not.

“Can you hear me?”

I blinked at the voice and focused.

“I don’t see any blood…McKay, can you hear me?” Explosive sigh. “Of course you can’t. And if you did you wouldn’t listen to me anyway.”

Kavanagh. It was Kavanagh. Yes, I’d say that was about my luck. My amazingly bad luck. If it wasn’t enough to work side by side with the bastard, now I had to hear his sanctimonious voice dripping with a complete and total lack of concern for my plight.

“Hear you? Hear what?” I snapped and hissed at the stab of pain it sent through my head. “Did you say something actually worth hearing? There would be a newsflash.”

“I told you not to cut corners, McKay. I told you that you were playing fast and loose with circuitry not up to the strain.” Kavanagh’s pasty face leaned over me and frowned at me. “I’ve called the medical team. Although considering your lack of quality control, we should’ve had them here on constant standby.”

For one brief second I saw John’s fox-like face grinning next to his. “Want I should punch him one, Supergeek? Come on…the quality control of my fist on his face? What could be better?”

“No, no, Major.” I waved a hand airily. “I’ve done it myself before; I can do it again. Just give me a second.”

“Wonderful. You’re hallucinating.” Kavanagh looked over his shoulder and sighed. “Here they come. I’ll take over while you’re in the infirmary. But don’t expect me to flagrantly disregard the safety of myself and my staff as you so blithely do. It may take a bit longer to get the gate working…a week perhaps, but I doubt there’ll be any explosions along the way.”

My colleague, an educated man with a doctorate in Chemisty and another in Engineering…with a personality as charming as his you wouldn’t think you could sleep your way through grad school, but it was the only explanation I’d been able to come up with. “A week? You soulless piece of…” I tried to sit up and fell back hard. Only a last minute dive on Carson’s part kept me from a second concussion. With his hands gently cradling my head, he looked down at me with concerned eyes.

“Christ, Rodney, what’ve you gone and done to yourself now, lad?”

“Punch Kavanagh for me,” I demanded instantly. “There’s twenty powerbars in it for you if you do.”

“He’s hallucinating and violent.” That was Kavanagh’s two cents…worthless as always. “Of course, the violence is perfectly normal for the illustrious Dr. McKay…so make of it what you will.”

“Dr. Kavanagh, I believe you hae some work to do. Why not give us room to do ours,” Carson said with annoyance. With one sniff, the pony-tailed son of a bitch disappeared to fuck up everything I’d done up until this moment. Everything. It would be a week if he had his way, and a week may as well be forever.

“He’ll kill them, Carson,” I said urgently, grabbing a fistful of his white smock. “He’ll tear down everything I’ve done. He’ll put us back the entire twenty-five hours we’ve been working. He’ll put us back to before we started working. I can’t leave. I can’t go to the infirmary. I can’t.” I attempted to pull myself up again, using him as support. “I won’t.” Halfway up I tried to push him away. “Go away, all right? Leave me alone. I’m fine. I’m okay. Right as rain. Fit as a fiddle.”

Exhaling, he put an arm behind my back and motioned for the gurney. “You’re not fine. You’ve given yourself a good knock, and being that you’re not waving that other arm about like a loon, you’ve either broken it or you’re dead. You have to go to the infirmary.”

I turned my head to face him. I was close enough to see the fine lines of worry beside his eyes and to smell the betadine and alcohol in my future. “He’ll kill them,” I repeated softly, unshakable. “If they’re not already dead, they will be when he’s done. Carson….”

He nodded slowly. “All right, Rodney. Give me twenty minutes. Twenty minutes and I’ll bring you back, lugging along a ventilator behind if you hae to.” Raising his voice, he called out, “Dr. Kavanagh, I need you in the infirmary as well. I need to hear what exactly happened here. Rodney’s symptoms. Whether there was a loss of consciousness, for how long, and…. Dinna you interrupt me, laddie. Take your arse there now or I’ll have it escorted by two of Major Sheppard’s beefier goons. You dinna want that, now do you?”

It turned out Chief Medical Officer trumped Chief Asshole every time. I left the infirmary long before Kavanagh did. I had a mild concussion and, as suspected, a broken arm. Carson whipped me up what he called a ‘spit and twine’ temporary cast, gave me a bottle of painkillers that I ignored…I couldn’t afford to be drowsy now…and had a nurse wheelchair me back to the control room so fast I nearly lost my lunch to motion sickness. Or would have if I’d had lunch or supper. I didn’t remember. I didn’t think I had. I patted a pocket and came up dry. When we hit control, I levered myself out of the chair and headed back to the gate, snatching the half eaten muffin out of a computer tech’s hand as I went. I would worry about the rampant germs later. And rampant they were, I was sure.

“Dr. McKay, you all right? You look like, pardon my saying, lukewarm shit.”

The eloquent Sergeant Bates was at my shoulder. And it was light. I blinked up at the pink and gold dawn light that poured through the ceiling. Yeah, pretty. Clouds. Birds. Whatever. Where was my muffin? Oh right…I’d eaten it. I frowned then growled, “I need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.”

Dark eyes measured me much in the same way they’d measured me after he’d brought the DHD to me. Damn, I wished I could’ve seen the faces of the Genii when it had gone sailing off merrily into the sky. I should’ve asked for Ford to tape it for me; he was good at that. “Mess isn’t open yet, but I can kick a few people out of bed if that would help.”

“Not only would it help, but it would make me very, very happy.” I dived back into the tangled snarl of miniature conduits in my lap. I’d lost a few to the explosion but not as many as I’d expected. Sifting through them with a hand and a half was slow and painful, but I was still light-years ahead of where Kavanagh would’ve been. Was it safe? Not really. Was it going to work? Yes. Damn it, yes “Muffins would be good too. I’ve already stolen all the ones up here.” They stuck in the throat and sat in the stomach like lead, but they kept me going.

“Speaking of stealing,” he said grimly, dropping a heavy and hard hand on my shoulder. “Dr. Weir informed me of what you did. Good one, but McKay?” He leaned in and said with quiet amusement, “You’re not as great a liar as you think.” He slapped my shoulder and gave me a smile…what Sheppard called his Cujo smile…and went to get my coffee.

Carson was in and out every hour doing what he called neuro checks. I didn’t really know what or care what they were for. He’d wave a finger around and tell me to follow it with my eyes, flash a light, then hang around for a bit. Sometimes he was silent moral support and sometimes he shouted back and forth with me over…hell, I don’t even know what over. But I appreciated it. I did. It let out a bit of the poisonous black doubt that crept up inch my inch every hour.

I would fix the gate. I would bring them back. I would do it because I was a genius, because I excelled under pressure, and because I firmly believed my own press. But mainly I would do it because I had to. I didn’t have a choice.

I didn’t have a choice.

“How much longer do you think?”

I rubbed my eyes, nearly giving myself a black eye with the fiberglass cast. “I think…five or six more hours. I checked my watch, but it was gone…stripped off in the infirmary. Instead I grabbed Carson’s wrist and looked at his. “That’ll make it a total of thirty-eight hours.” I repeated flatly, “Thirty-eight hours. And that’s not so long, is it? Fighting for your lives against highly homicidal snakes? Not long at all. Piece of cake. Walk in the park. A cuddly reptilian petting zoo.”

“Trust the Major, Rodney,” Carson said softly. “And trust Radek. You can bet they’re trusting in you right enough. They’ll be ready. Give them their chance and they’ll take it.”

In a perfect world….

I gave them their chance. Two stacked jumpers hummed with power, hundreds of transparent conduits pulsed with light as they literally carpeted the control room floor. And the gate…it worked. It did. I felt my stomach knot hard and tight. I felt every ounce of exhaustion shred my nerves like razor wire as my head throbbed and my arm ached fiery hot. But when that first chevron engaged…all that faded into the background. It meant nothing. Then there was the second…the third…all the way to the last. It was the single most beautiful thing I’d ever seen…even the sight of the Daedalus couldn’t hold a candle.

Right up until the wormhole refused to initiate.

Time slowed to a crawl as the air became thick as syrup. The cold sweat that prickled my neck began to trickle down between my shoulderblades and I felt the ground disappear beneath me. “Radek,” I said under my breath. “You’re better than that. You’re almost as good as me, all right? I admit it. I do. You want it in writing? I’ll give it to you. Just do this, okay? I know you can do this.”

I tried the gate again.

And again.

And again.

I didn’t end up using the bow; I hadn’t run out of ammunition yet. Considering the shape my one hand and forearm was in that was a good thing. Soaked to the skin and probably down to the subdermal layer to boot, I sat back to back with Radek as he continued tirelessly to try to beg and cajole that damn DHD back to life. I kept a lookout over the top of the barrier from time to time, but the rain had sent the snakes into hibernation. Maybe it was too cold for them or maybe they were afraid their scales would get frizzy. I didn’t care. I just took it and was damn grateful for the crappy weather.

“Major, how you feeling?”

“Doing A-OK, Dr. Z. This place is a vacation wonderland, isn’t it? Great weather. Friendly folk. I just get the warm and fuzzies thinking about it.” I shifted and bit back a grunt of pain. Between the arrow shot leg stiffening up and the venom scalded skin of my arm and hand, I was ready to hit the infirmary and give Beckett a big fat kiss on the smacker while I was at it. No tongue of course. Just a hey-nice-to-see-you…give-me-good-drugs-now greeting. Okay, maybe that was a big of an exaggeration, but not by much. And when I saw McKay I was stealing his nightlight. Kept one until he was fifteen my ass…I’ll bet he still had one tucked away somewhere. I wanted it. I wasn’t going to be able to close my eyes no matter how tired I was…and I was pretty fucking tired…without seeing snakes in every shadow.

When that snake had jumped out of the tree and landed on me…holy shit. Holy fucking shit. It had been so close I could smell the raw meat on its breath. I’d landed hard and rolled over. It slithered on top of me before I could move any further. It weighed easily as much as I did, but it seemed like more. God, it seemed like an avalanche crushing the breath from me. Waves of cold radiated off of it and a clawed hand pinned me by my throat. It had reared back and spat a mouthful of venom at my face.

The six slugs to its belly, combined with an arm across my face and desperate roll had saved me. Well, it hadn’t saved all of me, but considering what could’ve happened…I’d skated and I knew it. I’d put a few more bullets in its head for good measure, although I should’ve been saving my ammunition. I’d then staggered away to puke up that bologna and mustard sandwich, and it had nothing to do with the raging pain in my arm.

I shifted position again, unable to ease the discomfort in my leg. “We going home anytime soon, Dr. Z? No pressure, honest. I’m just, you know, mildly curious.”

“Is that what I work on? Getting us home? Had thought to be designing espresso machine. To forgive my lack of concentration.” There was an ominous clank and flash of sparks. I suppose we were damn lucky the Ancients had moved beyond electricity or we would’ve been fried in this downpour. He relented, “Two hours.”

That perked my ass up nicely. “Really?”

“Two hours if ever,” he amended darkly.

Way to smack down that glimmer of hope, Dr. Z, I thought morosely. “Here’s hoping Rodney has the Atlantis gate up and running already, eh?”

“He better,” he muttered. “I’m working in rain with no surplus equipment, is dark and cold, have to give you all my sandwiches, arrows are….”

“Yeah, whoosh whoosh. I know.” I looked up at a sky devoid of even an ounce of light although it should’ve been day…maybe. Then again who knew how long a day was on this snake-pit of a planet. “Two hours, huh? No problem. I can do two hours easy.”

“Good for you,” came a voice almost as annoyed as McKay at his finest. So that’s what it took…crazed mutant snakes, freezing rain, and the threat of death or exile…just add one Czech and you got an instant McKay clone. Now I knew…and knowing, as we’ve been told, is half the battle. “So glad you have difficult part while I play with toys,” he muttered on. “Let me know if you need help with the sitting and scratching of ass.”

Take the snakes out o f the picture for a few hours and oh how quickly they forgot. I snorted to myself and continued to keep watch…as much as I could in a pitch-black rainstorm. Three hours later I was munching on the half a Payday Rodney had pressed on me before the mission and wondering just how much skin and dignity I would lose if I asked Zelenka what happened to that two hour estimate. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. There was a tap on my shoulder and I turned my head to see the faint smear of Dr. Z’s face in the reflected glow of the DHD. “Is time,” he said soberly. “If you wish to pray or make blood sacrifice, now is good.”

I considered the last bite of candy bar, tossed it in, and stood. “The sacrifice has been made,” I said around a mouthful of caramel. “The blood of the peanut has been spilled. Let’s get this show on the road.”

I couldn’t see enough of him to notice the rise and fall of his chest, but I definitely heard the huge breath he sucked in before he hit the first panel. It probably would’ve been more dramatic had it not worked the first time…but it did. It lit up, ruthlessly bright and cheerful as a TV Christmas special. The following six lit up as quickly. All that light, the familiar musical sound of a locking chevron, to my eyes it was a better show than any Eagles concert. It was also bright and loud enough to attract the attention of our sluggish friends.

Party-crashers, nobody likes ‘em.

The seventh chevron locked and the gate made a howl like the scream of a jet, the ground vibrating nearly hard enough to knock me from my feet. I could see Zelenka’s mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear anything over the gate. It didn’t matter. I was sure it was just as profane as what I was shouting. But before I could grab my ass and kiss it goodbye, the gate stabilized and wormhole initiated. It was a searchlight beam across the plain…I know it illuminated the mass of approaching Snakemen in exacting detail.

“Oh damn,” I breathed. They must’ve put a call out to every able-bodied snake in the tri-state area. There were hundreds of them. Hundreds. And they were flowing across the clearing as fast as a raging river. “Shit, Dr. Z, move.” I gave him a hard shove towards the gate and turned to cover his escape. He turned for a quick second for a look, gave a horrified exclamation, and turned back. Scrambling around the DHD, he squeezed through the small aperture in the wooden barrier and dashed for the gate. A few of the snakes were faster than their brothers and I shot them fifty feet out. They tumbled and fell, grotesque figures painted half the black of the storm and half the blazing white of the glowing gate.

“Major!”

“Radek, go!” I fired again, shouting over the chatter of the ‘P-90.’ “I’m right behind you.” They were screaming…not in fear, but in pure unadulterated rage. Ever heard a snake scream? It was the eardrum puncturing hiss of a steam whistle and the gargled crunch of broken glass. It was not pretty. In fact, it almost had my spine spasming free of my body and running off without me. When I heard the ripple of a body passing through the event horizon, I whirled and followed Zelenka. I was a fast runner. Long, skinny legs…like Dr. Z said. One snake was faster. I dodged desperately and it flew over me, but it managed to rip my gun from my hand. Hey, if he wanted a souvenir that badly, he was welcome to it. I dove through the gate, a diver into the deep end.

Unfortunately, I picked up a hitchhiker.

I hit the floor in the Atlantis control room with talons embedded in my shoulder and back and a hot, predatory breath on the back of my neck. I rolled, flipped the snake off, and snatched a desperate glance at the room. There…. “Cujo, what the hell are you waiting on?” I snapped. “An engraved invitation?”

The smile that curved Bates’ lips was satisfied and wholly enthusiastic. “No, sir.” His ‘P-90’ was set to single shot, and he placed five rounds in the snake’s chest. It hissed, drooled venom and staggered backward until it hit the horizon of the gate. Then it was nothing but a sprinkling of molecules and a few inches of still twitching tail. I was about to yell for the force-field to stop the approaching hoard when someone powered down the gate, making it unnecessary.

Still on my knees, I straightened. Dr. Z was safe and off to the side. With wet hair steaming in the dry warmth, he exhaled hugely at the sight of me and pulled off his glasses to rub at eyes rimmed red with exhaustion. “Slow,” he murmured. “Fat with sandwiches and too kurva slow. I do not get paid enough for this. No, I do not.”

I snorted, stood stiffly, and immediately turned towards McKay. The second man of the hour. He and Dr. Z were geeks of the week in my book. I know they’d saved my ass, as well as Zelenka’s own, against pretty impossible odds. And right now I was even perfectly happy to hear the usual patented McKay avalanche of self-congratulation. He more than deserved it. “Rodney?”

He stood by the gate computer…or what had once been the gate computer. It had been torn down, rebuilt…if you could call it that, and spread over a good ten feet. Rodney stood in the middle of it, a hand held computer dangling from his fingers. He was pale, a dark bruise marred the temple of that high forehead, and one arm was in a cast. He didn’t look good and he didn’t look particularly happy to see us. In fact, he didn’t look anything at all. His face blank and frozen, he stared at me with dark ringed eyes.

“Um…McKay?” I tried for a winning grin, but I have a feeling it came out a little uneasy. “Just one mission, right?” Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. “No big deal.”

Those small hand-held computers pack a punch. It clipped my shoulder hard and clattered to the floor. And so did McKay. He sat abruptly in the midst of all that tubing and circuitry. “You stupid son of a bitch.” His legs might’ve given out, but his mouth seemed to work just fine. “You idiotic, moronic…what the hell is wrong with you?” He included Zelenka in his glare. “The both of you. Ford managed to get through the gate in time and he still has the training wheels on his bicycle. What were you two doing? Hunting for a bar?” Zelenka winced. “Or maybe hitting on the first snake you saw with breasts?” Yeah, that one would be for me.

“You know, Rodney,” I began reasonably. “I don’t think lady snakes have….” That was when I spotted them…my babies…stacked casually like dirty lunch trays. “McKay, what the hell did you do to my jumpers?” This time it was a burnt out version of an Ancient circuit board and it nearly took my ear off.

“I think, lads, this may be a discussion best finished in the infirmary.” Carson appeared at my side. From the looks of his sadly wrinkled tunic, matted hair, and the rumpled sheets on a gurney, he’d been sleeping here in control waiting for our return. Gentle fingers touched the bright red and swollen skin of my arm. I bit back a yelp and took another look around. Bates, Carson, and a few computer techs I didn’t know the names of…Weir, Ford, and Teyla were missing and the skylight was dark. That meant people were waiting for us in shifts…and that meant….

“How long?” I asked quietly.

“How long? How long?” Rodney repeated acidly. “How long to fix the gate…oh, a mere thirty-eight hours. How long did we dial your gate in the fastly fading hope the two of you weren’t dead? Six hours. Six hours. Every fifteen minutes for six damn hours. My arm hurts, my head hurts, even my goddamn finger hurts from punching in the gate address twenty-four times, if you were counting. And I’m sure you weren’t, but I was. I damn well was.”

“Concussion, broken arm, and worried well nigh to death,” Beckett murmured at my ear.

“All right, infirmary it is then,” I drawled. “We’ll meet you there, Doc.” Carson frowned, eyebrows beetling, but before he could protest, I jerked my head almost imperceptibly in Rodney’s direction and repeated firmly, “We’ll meet you there.”

He didn’t like it, but he let it go. Motioning for Zelenka to join me, I moved over to McKay’s side. Between the two of us, we hoisted him to his feet and slung him between us. I pulled his arm over my shoulders as Dr. Z did the same. “Think sack race,” I said easily when Rodney demanded querulously to know what we were doing.

“Why?” he shot back with withering scorn. “Because the past two days have been a picnic? What a wonderful analogy…oh wait, not so much. Asshole.” His hand had fisted the shirt over my shoulder in an unbreakable grip, his knuckles blanched a desperate ivory white. I didn’t think it had all that much to do with his balance although I knew he would’ve said differently. I wrapped my uninjured arm around his rib cage and urged him into motion. I felt him shake with the smallest of tremors, but I didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t have wanted me to.

Instead I tightened my grip reassuringly and said lightly as the three of us limped, staggered, and walked along, “Hey, Supergeek, guess what Dr. Z did on the planet when I was shot in the leg?” He could feel me, hear me…God knew he could smell me after our safari adventure. I was here…Zelenka was here. We weren’t lost beyond the gate. We weren’t dead. We were here. And Rodney needed proof of that…tangible proof, and he needed it a helluva lot more than the ease of a gurney ride down the hall. We’d had a time of our own on the other side, fighting for your life isn’t exactly a stress-free endeavor. But it was our lives. Rodney had labored under the pressure of friends’ lives hanging in the balance, depending solely on him, and the uncertainty that we were even alive to begin with. I’d been in that position before.

Give me an army of snakes over that any day.

“Go on.” I nudged him and repeated with an affectionate curl of my lips, “Guess what he did.”

“You do not say!” Zelenka demanded with his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. “I gave you sandwiches, you thankless, wretched man.”

“Passed out cold at the sight of blood.” I gave poor Dr. Z up without a second thought. I didn’t think he really minded that much…it was in a good cause. The bluster was all for show.

Rodney blinked as his feet continued to move in a slow, exhausted shuffle. I could see he had the same deathgrip on Zelenka’s shoulder as well. “Passed out? Don’t you mean….”

Dr. Z was a far smarter man than that. He cut off the comment without compunction. “Rodney, he ate all my food. Weigh him now if so concerned. He is fat grandma while I starving hero. And he threaten to shoot me. Not with words, yes? But I see it in his eyes. His beady, soulless eyes. Yet still I save us. I give him food. I find way home, but all he do is whine and complain one tiny time I catch him on fire. Only pant leg and easily subdued, but he carry on and on….”

There was some carrying on all right and I couldn’t help the grin as Zelenka kept right on going. I leaned in and whispered, “Bet you wish you’d taken a little longer to fix the gate now, don’t you?”

Tired blue eyes took me in and he grinned back. Small and faint, but it was there. The McKay I-got-my-own-way grin. “No, I just wish you’d taken deodorant instead of my Payday. You reek worse than Kavanagh’s MENSA score.”

“Hey.” I gave an exaggerated sniff of my own general personal space. “I smell like roses. And puppies. And apple pie with cinnamon ice cream and chocolate chip cookies….” By the time we reached the infirmary I’d run out of things I smelled like and McKay was asleep on his feet. Dr. Z and I eased him carefully onto a bed, covered him with a blanket, then submitted to exams…where I did not, by the way, plant one on Beckett for good drugs. Thank God, I got them for free.

I also received the entire run down of what had been wrought by Hurricane McKay…what had been done by him and to him. I probably should’ve waited for the good drugs until after the story. Interesting, the things a knock-you-off-your-ass painkiller will have you thinking.

Interesting as fucking hell.

“McKay, wake up.”

It’s a rule of thumb, a given…someone only tells you to wake up when you have absolutely no intention of doing the same. When you’re actually lying in bed hovering on the edge of sleep and about to wake up on your own, no one is giving you bossy consciousness commands then, noooo. That would be too convenient. God forbid we should have a little convenience in our lives. God forbid something should for once be easy.

“Rodney, come on. Shake it off.”

It was insistent, I had to give it that. One insistent, annoying, evil, maniacal voice that refused to let me rest. I kept my eyes shut and the fuzzy gray fog of sleep still pulled tightly over me. Of course there were things in that grayness. Awful things. Just really…awful. They hissed, slinking in the shadows. And they smiled…merciless smiles of a thousand teeth. Sometimes they had ripped cloth in their hands, jackets with familiar flags on the sleeves. Sometimes they had nothing in their hands at all, but blood coated their pebbly skin, sheened the curved fangs. And the very worst was when they would laugh, because it wasn’t a laugh. It was screams…the screams of men being ripped apart….

“Jesus Christ, Rodney, wake the hell up!”

The slap that hit my cheek was brisk and uncompromising. Even better, it worked. The fog parted and I opened eyes to a dim gloom, white walls, and the bedhair that ate Tokyo. I blinked, fascinated. You would honestly think it couldn’t get any more out of control…any more like a porcupine on steroids, but how very sadly wrong you would be. “No more hair gel for you,” I said hoarsely. “We’ll find you a nice twelve step program. You’ll make friends. Einstein, Yahoo Serious, Phyllis Diller….”

Sheppard grinned at me, lazily amused. He’d always been like that…from the moment he’d planted his butt in the chair he didn’t even have clearance to see much less touch, he was Mr. Blase. Even on the exceedingly rare occasion I pissed him off, he was still amused underneath it all, because…well…he liked me. That didn’t surprise me too much. I’m a likable person…if you’re not an idiot or a bully or slow to do your job or take too long in front of me in line or…hmph. The bottom-line was I’m likable…it’s everyone else in the world that makes things so difficult. So, while Sheppard liking me didn’t surprise me, that he found it so easy to did. I’m not saying being friends with me was easy…nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Buried treasure like me takes some work. But liking me…that didn’t seem to require any effort at all on Sheppard’s part. And that did amaze me. It truly did.

“Einstein is dead, McKay,” he pointed out. “Hate to break the news.”

I shook my head on the pillow and winced at the throbbing that started behind my eyes. “No, he’s not. He’s like Elvis. He faked his own death. Now he roams the States righting both wrongs and incorrect tensor equations wherever he goes.”

Eyebrows raised, Sheppard sat on the edge of my bed and gave me a bemused look. “I’m not sure if that means you’ve had too many pain killers or not enough.” I noticed then that his fingers were looped around my wrist, squeezing lightly. That along with the just remembered smack to the face and exhortations to wake up…oh.

“Did I…umm…wake you?” I felt the faint burn of heat along my cheekbones and automatically scowled. “Although I’m sure it’s not my fault. If Carson would actually break out the real drugs for us instead of Tic-Tacs in a tiny paper cup, perhaps we would both sleep just fine.”

“Hey, no big deal.” He squeezed my wrist again and let go. “My dreams haven’t exactly been fluffy bunnies and rainbows either. By the way, I want your nightlight.”

“It’s not compatible with the Atlantean powersource. I tried,” I said absently. “How’s your…well…everything?”

I didn’t really remember reaching the infirmary last night or morning…or whenever it was. But I’d woken up once to find myself in a bed, still dressed, and covered with a blanket while Carson worked on John in the next bed. What looked like a painful burn had been cleaned, creamed and dressed with a loose bandage. A leg wound had been cleaned as well, along with several talon slashes on his throat and back. All of it looked painful and I was surprised when I heard Carson tell Sheppard he could leave once he had a mega-dose of IV antibiotics. I’d been drifting back to sleep then, unable to keep my eyes open, but I’d caught a few words. Something about staying…not feeling well…pain.

Utter bullshit of course. Every word. John Sheppard didn’t have a clue how to complain…how to be the squeaky wheel. Oh, I’d tried to educate the man, but there’s only so much even a genius like me can do. Now lying…that he did at least give a shot. He wasn’t good at it…to say the very least…but he did try. But in the end, I doubted he’d fooled Carson anymore than he had me.

He looked out for us geeks. Looked out for me. Not that I needed it, of course. I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Still…in my entire affiliation with the military no one had ever done that, not for any of us. Now if we could only buy the man a braincell or two…just the minimum to keep him from getting himself killed. To keep him around.

“I’m all right. A little stiff, but I’ll survive.” As I tilted my head curiously and raised my own eyebrows in mocking imitation, he added hastily, “Until I move around. Then it hurts like…like…. Damn, it hurts.” He put a hand to his shoulder and grimaced. Couldn’t lie, couldn’t act…it was the saddest thing.

“Actually I think it was your leg and arm,” I said helpfully and rolled my eyes when he moved the hand to his leg and tried for a look of manful suffering.

He grinned again. “Okay, okay. You caught me. I stayed because I know there are no snakes hiding under the beds here. They’d be as afraid of Beckett as we are.” Usually with practice one gets better. Sheppard was the anomaly that had you tossing out your entire experiment. Every lie was actually worse than the one before. Before I could give consideration to calling him on it, he sobered and asked, “And how about you, Supergeek? All in one piece?”

“More like a mass of tiny aching pieces that make up an astoundingly brilliant whole.” And suddenly this wheel didn’t feel much like squeaking. “I’ll live.”

He frowned. “Holy crap. You’re not complaining. Not bitching. Not whining.” He looked over his shoulder uneasily towards the nurse on duty far across the infirmary. “I’ll have him call Beckett.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, wilting only slightly when his narrowed gaze focused on me. “Okay,” I relented with sharp irritation. “The whole thinking you’re dead thing? That’s getting old. Really old, really fast. And, yes, I know…I did actually die on you, but I don’t remember that, and….” I closed my eyes against the growing headache. “It’s just getting old.”

He was silent for a moment and then I heard a quiet sigh. Seconds later the head of my bed began moving up. I opened my eyes as I hit the upright and sitting position, which, by the way, was not helping my headache in the slightest. “What are you doing?” I demanded. I demanded it a little more urgently when he leaned towards me. “Major, what the hell are you doing?”

“You’re the one who said it, McKay,” he retorted grimly. “Shut up and think of England.”

I don’t like hugging. I am not a hugging person. In fact, I have a nicely large circle of personal space…room to expand as they say…although I didn’t seem to use it much with John. But leaning over someone to watch them manipulate jumper controls, slouching against their shoulder to snatch popcorn during a movie, hiding behind them when the big spooky aliens came, that wasn’t hugging. It wasn’t anything I did with anyone other than Sheppard, true, but it still wasn’t hugging.

This…this was awkward and weird. The warm hand on my back, the quick squeeze, that fright wig passing as hair tickling my ear…strange and uncomfortable. And if my hand grabbed a handful of his scrub top and held on for dear life, it was only because I was dizzy from the head injury. That was it. There was nothing more to it than that. Scientists don’t hug. Canadians don’t hug. Well…Canadian men don’t hug…some Canadian men don’t hug. I mean…shit.

“Get off.” I let go of his top and pushed him back. Not too hard…he was injured. “Radek would say you’re a little girl and he’d be right.” I ignored the hitch to my breath. “And Colonel Sumner would’ve passed out cold.”

His lips twitched. “You’re not wrong there. Feel better?”

“I’m scarred for life. It’s worse than when Carson girded his loins. How is that going to possibly make me feel better?” I did feel better, but damned if I’d admit it to him. I’d known he wasn’t a ghost. I’d felt his hand on my wrist, touched his and Radek’s shoulders earlier. I knew he was really there. But there was knowing and there was knowing.

And now I knew.

“Okaaay. Whatever you have going with Carson’s loins I don’t want to know. I’m out of here.” He stood and waved for the nurse. “Think you’ll be out of here by supper? I’ve been wanting another of those banana shakes.”

I narrowed my eyes and looked him up and down. “Speaking of…let’s get the nurse to weigh you. You actually look like you’ve lost weight. I mean, a whole planet of snakes…which tastes just like chicken by the way…and you can’t find time to roast a tail or two?”

“Christ, McKay, that’s cannibalism. Blech, disgusting.” He gave a shudder and I thought it had less to do with eating a semi-intelligent creature and more to do with that creature being a snake.

“Unless you’re a fellow snake it’s not cannibalism. It’ s just practical,” I pointed out with aplomb.

“Damn, I hope I’m not in a jumper crash with you on top of some snowy mountain. You’ll be gnawing on my leg after twenty minutes on the ground…probably while I’m still alive.”

“As if I’d get enough off your toothpick leg to survive. There’s probably two hundred calories there total. A guinea pig would die of starvation trying to live off what you have to offer. Now maybe your arm….” The nurse was coming but apparently not fast enough. He made for the infirmary door with arm curled protectively against his chest. Sure, it could’ve been the bandaged one and maybe it was from pain, but I had my doubts.

Skinny coward.

Briefings. Debriefings. Take your pick…they all sucked up valuable time and made you long for a nice, happy coma in comparison. Once my part was over they were invariably boring…I’ve found that to be true of most things in general. This time, however, was even worse. I’d arrived early to take my medicine, and it had been even more horrific than I could’ve imagined.

The door to the briefing room opened, but it was Sheppard who came through instead of Elizabeth. She’d stepped out for coffee or to spare herself the further sight of me, I couldn’t be sure which. I looked up at John, then groaned and dropped my head back into my hands.

“That bad, huh?” He sat opposite me at the table and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in sympathy. “Well, you did pull a Major Sheppard. There’s no crime worse in Dr. Weir’s eyes.”

He was grinning. I could literally feel the annoying beam of it across the table. “Shut up,” I grated.

“I have to admit though,” he added cheerfully, “I’d have given anything to have seen that jumper swooping out of the sky and pulling up the DHD like it was a daisy. Man, I’ll bet that was beautiful. Who did the flying?”

“I have no idea. Ask Bates.” I massaged my temples. “Who, by the way, didn’t get in any trouble although he knew I was boldfaced lying when I gave him the orders. Where is the justice, I ask you. Where?” Nowhere, that’s where.

“So….” I heard his boots hit the surface of the table. “What was the punishment? Had to be something good. Weir can be devious as hell when she wants to be. What was it?” When I remained silent, he wheedled, “Come on, McKay. You can tell me. Can’t be worse than the dressing down I got that time.”

I straightened, compressed my lips, and finally managed to spit it out. “Sensitivity training.”

He lifted his chin, widened eyes, and said blandly, “I stand corrected.” Snorting a little, he turned his head for a moment and composed himself…the bastard. Turning back, he managed to get out, “And why would that be, Dr. McKay?”

“Apparently I offended that whiny-ass moron who nearly got you and Radek killed.” I waved a hand dismissively. “There was something about one of the balconies and threatening to jump and Heightmayer talking him down. I’m sure they’ve made it all sound much worse than it actually was.”

This time he actually got up and left the room. Five minutes later he returned with two coffees and a bright red face. He handed one to me, black with four sugars, and said casually, “You know, I have a few guys that could use that. Lieutenant Barclay for one. That guy has one nasty temper and it always seems worse in the cafeteria for some reason. And what about Kavanagh? That guy could use it like no….”

“Speaking of Dr. Kavanagh,” Elizabeth interrupted from the door. Closing it behind her, she sat at the table and checked her watch. “Since we’re early and the others aren’t here yet, perhaps we should discuss the complaint I’ve just received.”

“Don’t tell me he has something to complain about now,” I flared. “The man taunted me while I was lying on the floor with a broken arm. A broken arm. What in the world could he possibly have to complain about?”

“Well, let us see, shall me.” She held up the form, although it was all for our benefit. I knew she was perfectly aware of what it said. “It seems that a few hours ago while Dr. Kavanagh was dozing in his room someone cut off his pony-tail.” Those sharp eyes sought me out instantly. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you, Dr. McKay?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s right. I have a lab to run, a concussion and a broken arm to nurse, a highly annoyed and now mission-phobic Czech engineer who no longer speaks to me, yet I have nothing more on my mind than wreaking some sort of hairdresser inspired vengeance. Please.”

Sheppard leaned back in his chair and dropped his hands to his legs. I could hear the occasional drum beat of his palm as he said reasonably, “Honestly, Dr. Weir, I doubt it could be Rodney. He does have the cast. It would be difficult for him to hold hair in one hand and cut with the other…maybe not even physically possible. It would certainly hurt like hell. He’s sneaky but you know what a baby he is about pain. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. And God knows Kavanagh has more enemies than you can shake a stick at. Wasn’t it just performance evaluations last week? I’ve seen a lot of pissed off chemists standing around in the halls grumbling. You might want to look there.”

She sighed, smiled faintly, and nodded. “You may be right. Sorry, Rodney. He was so sure it would be you, but then again he’s quite sure of many things that aren’t true, isn’t he?”

“Hmph.” I accepted the apology in the spirit it was offered, and as she turned to switch on the wall monitor for the images of Snakeworld as we were now calling it, I took a large sip of the coffee. At the same moment and with impeccable timing, Sheppard grinned and lifted a dark blond pony-tail over the edge of the table and waved it at me. I spewed the coffee a good three feet and choked desperately on the half swallow that had made it into my throat.

“McKay, you all right?” he said solicitously. “You need the Heimlich or something?” Walking over, he slapped me helpfully on the back. Coughing, I tried to wave him off only to feel the surreptitious weight of a rope of hair hitting my lap. There was the rustle of paper as it fell and I looked down to see an attached tag with neat writing that read ‘Sheppard and Zelenka went to Snakeworld and all I got was this lousy pony-tail.’

“Just one mission,” he said under his breath, giving my back another unnecessary pounding. “Just one souvenir.”

Like I’d said from the beginning…an asshole. But he was mine.

And he had excellent taste in souvenirs.

The End