Title: Quarks, Quantum Chromodynamics and Other Unproven Theories

Author: Amireal

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: McKay/Sheppard

Length: Approx 25,000 words.

Disclaimer: Not mine, would I be buying lotto tickets if they were?

Author's notes: Thanks to <lj user="chopchica"> and <lj user="seperis"> for the beta. This thing was a monster and I was a bitch. You guys rock. Also, the title of this fic scares me, it's longer than the summary and frankly I highly doubt I'll ever be able to remember it without looking it up first.

Summary: "I think we stumbled onto some Ancient kid's homework."

******

"Huh."

John palmed his pistol out of habit. "What is it, Rodney?"

Rodney shook his head and pressed more buttons as the console in front of him changed colors slowly, giving information in a way only the Ancients could have programmed. "Huh," he said again, frowning.

John knew the day had been too easy. "Rodney?" he prompted again, feeling the tension string across his shoulders.

"I could have sworn -" Rodney went silent again, punching even more buttons. This time a dull thudding sound  accompanied the gesture as he pressed with more force than was necessary.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth's concerned voice came up from behind both of them. John supposed that's what he got for fondling his weapon in public.

Rodney made a rude noise. "Busy here."

John shrugged at Elizabeth's look of concern. "He's not speaking to me either.  At this point, I'm thinking it might be a handy skill to be able to repeat."

"I'm still in the room, you know," Rodney announced, not looking up.

"I know," John threw over his shoulder. "It's not like I talk about you when you're not around. What would be the fun in that?" The string of tension in his back coiled tighter; the longer it took for Rodney to figure out his 'huh', the more running for his life John usually had in his future. John really *hated* running for his life.

Finally, Rodney blew out a large breath, swiveled in his chair and glared. "I'd give you a snappy comeback for that, but there are more important things to worry about." He tapped a few buttons and a scrolling torrent of data appeared on the large screen. "Like these anomalous readings that keep popping up and then correcting themselves."

John pursed his lips and made a clicking noise in the back of his throat. Apparently he had his own bad news noise. "I'm thinking that's not a good thing."

"Whatever gave you that impression, Colonel?" Rodney eyed him, exasperation clear in his every move. "Gee, it's just evidence of internal tampering, whatever was I thinking? Let's go on with our lives carefree until we all die in the big massive plot we decided to ignore."

"Internal tampering, huh?" John thought about that. "I'd have gone for an intruder in the city." He watched as Rodney's eyes went wide with surprise, before they narrowed with annoyance. John bounced on the balls of his feet and grinned. It wasn't his fault that sometimes Rodney couldn't come up with *all* of the possible negative sides to a situation.

Rodney shook his head abruptly. "I don't think so, Colonel, the tweaks are too precise, too quick. Unless there's a ten-thousand year old training programs for spies to infiltrate the great city of the ancients, the odds are that it’s someone we know doing something they don't want us to know about."

"Rodney." Elizabeth stepped forward. "What exactly are these tweaks  doing?"

Rodney made a frustrated sound. "I don't know. There are no tracks, just blips in data that are slightly incongruous." His fingers raced over the console, massaging the inputs with practiced ease. "Most of the time they're not even any place I'd worry about, database storage mostly. Once in the diagnostic systems for the chair, several in the medical databases, and mostly notably, the bulk of the activity is appearing in systems we've yet to fully analyze." Rodney's entire stance, despite its comfortable slouch behind the computer, held a line of tension in its sloped shoulders.

"My spidey sense is tingling," John murmured, jockeying for a better look at the screen.

"Ignoring that." Rodney pecked at a few more keys. "It's too smooth, it's got to be someone who knows these systems and unless we've managed to miss an Ancient floating around somewhere, I think one of our people is trying really hard to cover something up."

John clapped a hand on Rodney's shoulder and gave him a reassuring shake. "Come on, Mary Jane, buck up."

"Still ignoring you." Rodney took a moment to glare at him. "Elizabeth I think that--"

"Rodney!" Dr. Zelenka ran into the control room and proceeded to shove Rodney out of the way and into John. They tangled with each other, limbs crossing in an effort to stay upright.

Rodney's chin ended up clanging into John's shoulder painfully and he inhaled sharply – an appealing scent wafting into his nose, making him dizzy momentarily, his arms going slack. Rodney's body slammed against him for one scorching instant before it pulled away.

"My jaw! It's broken!"

John shook his head and rolled his eyes. "It is not."

Rodney rubbed his jaw tenderly. "Well it could have been."

"Rodney," Zelenka called. "Pretend to have a life threatening condition later, look at this now."

Rodney moved away from John to stare at the screen and John let out a small breath of relief. His entire left side still burned from the contact and focusing his attention was a little difficult, "What’s up, docs?"

Shooting him an insufferable look, Rodney pointed at him. "There are so many things I could say to that." He turned back to Zelenka. "What is this?"

"This," Zelenka pointed excitedly, "is notes."

"And that," Rodney pointed, his excitement also on the rise, "is a ZedPM."

Elizabeth joined them by the console. "Did you find a ZPM?"

Zelenka shook his head. "Better. These are notes on how ZedPM works, how to--"

"--make one, or at the very least, how to make the equipment to make one." Rodney pointed at the screen. "It looks like, well… it looks like a twelfth-grade paper on the combustion engine." He squinted. "I think we stumbled onto some Ancient kid's homework."

"What is this ‘we’?" Zelenka's insulted voice asked.

John didn't pay attention to the slight. There were more important things to worry about. "You mean there's a chance in hell you two might understand it?"

Rodney turned to him, brow furrowed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing Rodney," John sighed. "Just that maybe this is a good place to start? Understand the basics before trying for the hard stuff."

"That's assuming this paper is even worth the space it's saved on," Rodney grumped.

Zelenka piped up. "There are teacher's notes at the bottom."

Rodney spun back to the computer. "How can you tell?"

"It works remarkably similar to Office's draft function."

"Oh good, we're doomed."

******

While Elizabeth, Rodney, and Zelenka holed up in a lab translating and understanding their new discovery, John reorganized the patrols. He wasn't happy with that 'huh' Rodney had had earlier.

Odds were if someone was doing something they shouldn't be doing, they were going to *be* someplace they shouldn't be being.

The science labs were all a twitter, muted sounds of excitement were still going on well into John's own patrol. Being in charge meant he could pick his own route, cross-cutting through the other patrols and allowing him to follow his gut.

He wandered the lesser used corridors, the ones on the fringes of their spaces, where not every room was in use, and small cobwebs still rested in the corners. Somewhere between the extra storage areas and the unofficially designated VIP areas for state visits, the hair on the back of John's neck began to stand up.

Something spooky was definitely going on. "I don't suppose you wanna talk, whoever you are?"

A nearby console flashed at him and made him jump. John shook his head and hoped no one had seen that. "I think I'm going to put in for a vacation."

The console flashed again.

"What the hell?" John approached it warily. "If you blow up on me, I'm going to be pissed."

It flashed for a third time.

He stepped up to it carefully and the screen continued to flicker randomly. John tapped it on what they had discovered was the 'reset corner' and waited. It stayed blank.

Walking away backwards, John kept a wary glance on the terminal and made a mental note to talk to Rodney about it later.

******

The meeting that was called to update them all on the ZPM discovery happened early the next morning. Elizabeth came in looking like she'd had a late night. Rodney and Zelenka didn't look like they'd slept at all.

In fact, it looked like they'd mainlined all of the coffee on Atlantis. Intravenously.

"Gentlemen?" Elizabeth prompted, "Any success after I left?"

Zelenka nodded excitedly. "Yes, it is an overly simplified how-to guide. However, it has given us many new directions to look in."

"I don't like it," Rodney announced.

The entire room swung to look at him, Rodney was sitting tense in his seat, head bowed, computer tapping in full swing.

Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat. "Rodney?"

Rodney shook his head. "I can't explain it, but something about it seems wrong."

"Professional jealousy perhaps?" Zelenka asked frowning. "You are just upset that you did not come up with this yourself."

Rodney glared, shoulders hunched around him. "No, Radek, that's not it." His hands spread out into the air. "I can't explain it, something just feels… off." He finished helplessly.

Elizabeth studied them both before nodding slowly. "All right, Rodney, you're advising prudence and that's enough for me. Be careful, both of you."

Rodney nodded, apparently satisfied.

John let out a little breath, still unsure how to bring up the next order of business. "Rodney, did you get anywhere with those anomalies?"

Rodney's head shot up, a guilty look spreading across his face. "No, I didn't, there was too much--"

John held up a silencing hand. "Not criticizing, just saying that I've noticed some things are acting a little… wacky."

"Your grasp of the English language never ceases to amaze me. What exactly went," Rodney made a face that let everyone in the room he detested the next word out of his mouth, "wacky?"

John held up two fingers. "Twice, some random terminal on the outskirts of our inhabited space started spazzing out on me." Possibly, he said that last one on purpose.

"Spazzing out--" Rodney shook his head, "Never mind, I'll figure it out for myself, I don’t suppose you noted where these events occurred?"

Smiling easily, John pulled out a scrap of paper and handed it over to Rodney, who picked it up between two fingers like he expected it to burst into flames or bite him.

When they were all done and filing out of the briefing room, Rodney shuffled up next to him and glared.

"What?" John asked.

"You waited until the *morning* to tell me?" Rodney followed him out of the room and down the hallway.

Dropping his head, John ran a hand down the back of his neck. "You were busy and silly me, I thought you might actually possibly get some sleep." He rolled his eyes. "What was I thinking?"

Rodney followed him into the transporter. "Obviously you weren't."

"Obviously."

John watched Rodney fiddle with the computer in his hands, frowning intently. "I still don't like it."

"Like what?" John leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed in front of him. "You've got tons of cool scientific stuff to do, at least I'm pretty sure that's what you said; that solitaire game I was playing was a killer."

Rodney's head shot up. "What?" He stopped himself. "No, once again, I'm not asking." His hand waved in front of the screen he was holding. "I'm serious here, something doesn't feel right!"

John shifted gears and straightened, taking him seriously. "Something is really wrong?" he asked, as they made it into the lift.

"Yes!" Rodney snapped. "There's just something that isn't right."

Instincts were instincts and while Rodney was occasionally spectacularly wrong, this didn't feel like one of those times. John moved closer to Rodney, peering over his shoulder. "What is it?"

Rodney tilted his head to the left, giving John a look out of the corner of his eye. John sucked in a deep breath, his body suddenly full of sharp and aching sensations. Rodney's cheeks flushed and his eyelashes fluttered.

"The notes," Rodney rasped. "There's something about them that's…" he trailed off, his eyes focusing somewhere on John's face.

"Wrong?" John suggested softly.

The flush on Rodney's cheeks deepened and he swayed gently into John's body, hot and scorching against his side.

The lift stopped and they jumped apart.

John licked his lips and gestured for Rodney to go first. Rodney did, walking quickly. "I don't know," he called over his shoulder. "Something's just not right."  He disappeared into the nearest lab.

The air in the lift felt cold and damning. John sighed and pressed another button, watching the doors close. Not right indeed.

******

Atlantis sputtered around them in an uneven pattern, alternately perturbing the science team and filling them with delight as occasional bits of data were unlocked. They seemed to have found a plentiful cache of information in the last breakthrough.

Rodney continued to make unhappy faces and noises and John studiously did not take any more from that than normal.

Zelenka and Rodney made steady progress in their ZPM hunt, as they learned how to manipulate the materials and machinery involved. John kept up the increased patrols out of habit. Rodney's assertion that something was wrong nagged at the back of his mind.

He tried not to be weirded out that Atlantis continued to give him the heebie-jeebies. John was a paranoid man when it came to the hair on the back of his neck, and he couldn't help but notice a few coincidences.

******

Days later, John sat at the conference table twiddling his thumbs. "So, you think they forgot?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "He reminded me of this meeting, John, give them a few--"

"--I don't understand how that's possible!" Rodney's voice shouted.

"--minutes." Elizabeth sighed. "Gentlemen, is there something I should know?"

Rodney lumbered in, his annoyance broadcasted with every fiber of his being. "Yes, the newest 'paper,'" he bit out the word, "we found in what appears to be in the bowels of Atlantis' fancy and Ancient recycle bin? Is a fake."

John sat up straight. "What? How can you tell?"

"Because," Zelenka said. "It does not read right."

"The information is wrong?" Elizabeth asked.

"No." Rodney shook his head. "It's all correct as far as I can tell. And let me tell you it's at just about the edge of what I can understand." He slumped into a chair, looking tired and strung out. "In fact, it's *exactly* at the edge of what I can understand."

John watched Rodney rub the palms of his hands over his eyes. "How exactly does it read wrong?"

Rodney looked at him from behind his hands. "I've spent nearly a year and a half reading what little we could glean from Atlantis' databases. Everything from notes about the proper handshake for some long dead head of state to detailed schematics to most of the equipment in the control room and I'm telling you, this," Rodney pointed to something on his screen, "reads wrong."

Zelenka looked up suddenly, grabbing the computer from Rodney's hands.

"Hey!"

"Shut up, I am thinking." Zelenka hummed, his brow furrowing. "If I did now know better…"

"You don't." Rodney snatched the computer back, holding it close to his chest, his left hand petting the edges slightly.

Zelenka shot Rodney a dirty look. "If I did not know better, it reads like one of your papers."

Rodney looked at him oddly. "Are you sure?" He began to reread whatever it was he had on his screen.

"Not your earlier works maybe," Zelenka said. "But those you have written since you started incorporating Ancient technology? It has a very similar feel."

"Huh," Rodney said.

John went for his pistol. That reflex really had to stop.

Silence descended over the room as both Rodney and Zelenka studied the information before them. John tapped his fingers against the table, whistling tunelessly, which got him a withering look from Rodney. He gave him a wide smile and continued whistling.

"You might be right," Rodney finally conceded.

"What does that mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm more brilliant than we thought?" Rodney gave it a beat and shrugged.

John looked around the room, the prickly feeling crawling over his skin even stronger than ever. "Something is going on here." He leaned in closer and shifted his eyes around, automatically searching for something that shouldn't be there. "I don't think any of this is a coincidence."

"Any of what?" Rodney asked.

"The anomalies, the sudden leaps in technological discovery, the McKay sounding paper, it's all gotta be related."

Rodney leaned back in his chair and stared at him. "However did you guess?"

******

Rodney and Zelenka hatched a plan. It involved monitoring a whole lot of Atlantis' extraneous systems while John kept up the patrols. It had been decided that there had to be someone on the base itself doing this.

It pretty much boiled down to John being bait. Hooray for bait.

"Assuming," Rodney began, pacing around the room. "Whoever it is isn't already aware that we know something is up, we should stick to a normal routine. Zelenka is in the next room continuing the ZPM work."

"So I'll just be wandering around looking for used candy bar wrappers," John muttered. "This should be fun, dealing with someone who obviously knows the systems well enough that it took us this long to figure it out. God knows what he knows about the physical layout of the city."

"Yeah well, be careful," Rodney said from his side of the room, not looking at him.  John could see more words simmering under the surface of Rodney's skin -- moving fast and awkward. Rodney's face was shadowed; the lines around his eyes and lips looked deep and painful.

"Hey now," John said quietly. "This is a walk in the park compared to some of the things we've done."

Rodney shook his head and the shadow dissolved away. "Of course it is, did I say it wasn't?"

"Not at all." John smiled brightly, the grin feeling painful on his face. "I'll be patrolling about 1600. It's my early day, you two gonna be ready?"

"We'll be fine." Rodney shooed him away. "Now leave, I've got a million important things to do and only enough time for half of them."

******

Rodney's steady voice in his ear kept John company as he wound his way around the city in increasingly frustrated circles. After the seventh time he'd been told to head in the completely opposite direction John made a grumpy noise into his headset. "Rodney, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I'm not answering that."

Well good, he was annoyed. Rodney always worked better when he was annoyed.

Something flicked out of the corner of his eye. John readjusted the grip on his P-90 and slipped into the closest room. At first glance, it wasn't any different than most of the other rooms they hadn't cleared yet: panels and consoles covered with tarps, miscellaneous equipment scattered around in what seemed like random placement.

John spotted a bit of rolled-up material stuffed between the wall and a large octagon shaped thing. He kneeled down to examine it, to find it was a battered looking bedroll, standard issue.

Behind it was a bag full of unspecified items and behind that was what looked like an Atlantis Expedition issue tablet computer. Standing carefully, John took a spin around the room, looking for anything else helpful before collecting what he found. "What are you doing?" he muttered to himself.

"What?" Rodney squawked in his ear. "Are you there yet?"

"Not now, Rodney, I think I found something." John shook his head. "What are you doing here and why are you helping us?" he asked again, staring thoughtfully at the belongings.

"I'm here because I've got nothing left," came a quiet voice from behind him.

John spun, P-90 aiming before he even he stopped. A shadowy figure stood in the corner of the room, computer in hand. He took careful aim. "Who are you? What do you want, really?"

The figure stepped into the light, shadows receding from his face like a slow blanket pulling away. "Hello, John," the man said softy.

John's hand fell to his side in surprise. "Rodney?"

"What?" Rodney said in his ear.

John's eyes narrowed. He ignored his radio and stared the other Rodney. He was older, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper. Gray hair crept up from his temples and his eyes -- his eyes held a sadness that made John's chest ache.

Rodney's mouth tightened and he nodded slightly. "You know, part of me was worried you wouldn't recognize me." He took a few steps further into the room. "I assume you're on vox?"

Nodding absently and ignoring the yelling in his ear, John got closer to Rodney, taking in the new scars; there was something just below his jaw, thin and slightly discolored.  "Someone's probably already on their way."

"Right." Rodney nodded, but didn't move any further, just stared, his gaze warm and tired. "I'm sort of disappointed it took this long. I've been around for about two months."

John found himself moving without thought. He tapped his radio. "Hey, Rodney, call off whatever dogs you've got, I'm fine. Give us a few minutes?"

Rodney slumped next to him. "Thank you," he said quietly, just as Rodney squawked indignantly in John's ear.

"No problem," John said as a hand ghosted down his shoulder, a trail of warmth that slid across his skin leaving goose bumps. He shivered lightly.

"Sorry," Rodney said, pulling his hand away and bowing his head. "I just can't believe you're real."

Instinct overcame self-preservation and John curled his hand around the older Rodney's shoulder, squeezing tightly. Rodney gave him a startled look, and his mouth twisted in surprise.

Suddenly John was being hugged tightly, Rodney's arms bands of steel around his midsection. Awkwardly he returned the gesture, slowly patting Rodney's shoulders. As the body next to John's shuddered silently for long seconds, the patting settled into slow circles.

The contact didn't last long. Rodney's hold loosened and he pulled back just as abruptly as he'd started. His face held no trace of whatever had just gone through his head, but his eyes looked a little bit lighter. "I'm man enough to admit that I just might have missed you." He smiled, but it faded abruptly.

John's heart stuttered, a wave of understanding washing over him like a cold shower. "So, I'm guessing it's been longer than two months since you've seen me?"

Rodney nodded. "I might have even missed your hair." He made an aborted movement towards John, his hand lifting, before dropping back to his side.

"How long has it been?"

Rodney shook his head. “Too long.” He lumbered over to a chair and sat down slowly, slumping comfortably against the back, swinging his feet up to rest on a nearby box. "I could really go for some food and a very long nap. The SubCu wore off about three weeks after I got here." He rolled his wrist and flexed his hands. "That ache just likes to dig in.”

John tilted his head in amusement. "Make yourself at home." He pulled up another crate next to Rodney's feet and made himself a space to sit. "SubCu?"

Rodney pulled up his sleeve to reveal a small lump on his upper arm. "There were some very bad birth control comments when it first came out."

The skin looked clean and new, the only telltale sign was a barely there scar at one end. John raised his hand in silent question, and with Rodney's nod, traced over soft skin and felt the telltale wrongness of the lack of give in that one spot. "What's in it?" John asked.

Rodney rolled his sleeve back down. "This and that: vitamins, a pain killer here and there, things with lots of vowels that I've given up trying to pronounce."

Taking it in stride, John nodded. He lived on Atlantis after all, and the thing did sound kind of useful. "So why the ruse?"

"Blah blah blah, timeline contamination." Rodney sighed tiredly, closing his eyes and tilting his head back against the wall. "Blah blah blah temporal paradox, blah blah blah the end of the universe as we know it." His eyes peeked open. "Did you follow all that or were the words too big?"

John couldn't help but smile; time apparently didn't change Rodney much. "So what was the plan then, spoonfeed us Ancient secrets?"

"Purely selfish, I assure you," Rodney said. "I was lonely."

"Uh huh." John wasn't buying it.

They held each others gaze for long seconds, longer than John had expected, but finally, Rodney relented. "I wasn't going to change anything other than the timeline of technology."

"And then what? Go back?" John pressed, because Rodney was too quiet, too still. There was something missing and he wanted to know what.

Rodney, however, only nodded, "Yeah, and then go back."

"Right." John moved to touch his radio. "You up for some company?"

Before Rodney could answer, the door slid open. "Finally!" Rodney stalked in and stopped short in front of the bed. "Well, at least I didn't lose any more hair."

The Rodney sitting down laughed. "Forgot about the radio. I must be tired."

John started; he'd forgotten too. At least that saved some repeat conversation. "Rodney," he said addressing the younger one. "Meet Rodney."

Rodney examined his double sitting in the chair and paled. "Good god, how old *are* you?"

The other Rodney on the put his hand over his heart and looked shocked. "My mother always said you should never ask a lady her age."

Rodney's mouth snapped shut with an audible click and for half a beat it looked like he didn't have an answer. "My mother also said 'Cut the crap.'"

John watched the two of them, fighting back laughter. "Rodney?"

"What?" they both answered.

The older one rolled his eyes. "Call me McKay."

Rodney harrumphed. "Don't I get a say in this?"

McKay shot Rodney an annoyed glare. "Would you rather I be called--"

"Nevermind! McKay it is!" Rodney quickly interrupted.

Not wanting to let them ramp up, John stood. "Come on McKay, Beckett's gonna wanna get a look at you."

"Carson?" McKay's eyes looked suspiciously bright. "Yes, Carson, let's go see him." Despite his enthusiasm, his movements were slow and practiced. John offered a hand and McKay eyed it suspiciously, his gaze darting around the room, before he took it and used it to help haul himself up.

The calluses on McKay's hand felt odd and familiar to John; they were the hands of someone who used a gun often. More often than Rodney currently did. John frowned but said nothing as they escorted McKay to the infirmary.

Zelenka met them outside the door, looking at McKay with wide eyes. John watched McKay give him a mischievous grin and wave. Only McKay would get this much kick out of time travel. With only a subtle head bob, John had them arranged around McKay, so they wouldn't be pinned with too many curious stares along the way.

Beckett had his back turned when they entered "What's the emergency, Colonel--" He turned and got a good look at their visitor.

" Carson." McKay waved again. "Long time no see."

Beckett sat down hard in his chair. "Well now, this is actually unexpected."

"Yes, yes," Rodney busted in. "Let's all gawk at my older, less attractive looking self."

McKay sniffed. "I prefer the terms gracefully aged, and dignified charm."

"Well," Beckett said over Rodney's protests, "it certainly sounds like him." He turned to John, "I suppose it's my job to make sure it actually *is* him?"

"Oh goody." McKay clapped his hands together and rubbed vigorously. "I haven't been invasively examined in months now. I can't wait."

******

Once Elizabeth got wind of all the details, she demanded an update as soon as Beckett was done with his examination.

Thanks to the Ancient technology, things that might've taken hours took a fraction of the time and their questions were soon answered. Beckett confirmed that as could tell, McKay was indeed the real McCoy, and they headed to the briefing room

Beckett and McKay filed into the briefing room last. John watched Beckett watch McKay sit down; he noted some of the care McKay had needed earlier was missing. Beckett must have given him something for whatever was wrong.

Elizabeth looked at McKay for a long moment. "Well, this wasn’t something I was expecting ever to do again."

McKay just waggled his eyebrows and shrugged.

Rodney smacked his hand down on the table. "Are through with the pleasantries? Can we get on to the important things like the fact that he obviously knows how to make ZedPMs?"

"I've got all of my notes," McKay said. "I'm sure you'll have no trouble following them."

"I'll have no trouble following them," Rodney mimicked under his breath.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is there anything else you can help us with?"

McKay threaded his fingers and rested them on the table in front of him. "I've been trying to unlock some of the databases that might be useful, but I wasn't originally the one who did most of the work, so it might take a while."

"Now hold on a minute," Elizabeth interrupted. "It's not that I don't appreciate all the help, but is this wise?"

"I don't plan on giving all of you detailed future histories of yourself. I'm just going to help you along the technological trail that you'd have bumbled down anyway."

"Hey!" Rodney practically stood up.

"Rodney!" John intervened. "Sit down, shut up, and take your personality with a grain of salt, just like the rest of us."

Rodney harrumphed, but kept his tongue.

John turned back to McKay, taking in his amused demeanor. "Wow, you've mellowed."

"Not really." McKay replied, not looking the least bit annoyed. "He's just working on an ulcer."

All the heads in the room swung to Rodney who looked as startled as the rest of them. "Carson?"

Beckett donned his comforting face. "It's alright, Rodney, we'll check it out."

John turned back to McKay just in time to see the smile slip from his face as something crept into his eyes. In the background, he heard Beckett placating Rodney. McKay's gaze caught his and he couldn't look away, John recognized something inside it, a small wilting spark that he'd seen before in soldiers back from war, or widows at the end of a funeral. McKay broke away first, refocusing on the argument happening across the room.

Rodney was in the middle of clutching his stomach and Beckett looked about three steps away from hitting him. "Rodney," he said, teeth clenched. "We'll get you into the infirmary as soon as possible." He sighed, "I don't suppose it'd do me any good to suggest you lay off the coffee?" At Rodney's horrified look, Beckett shook his head. "Thought not."

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth chastised. "The subject at hand, please?" Once everyone settled down again, she went on. "Rodney-- McKay," she corrected herself quickly, "how did you get here?"

"I found Janus' notes a few years ago my time," McKay said. "It wasn't too complex once we had full power, just time intensive."

" Elizabeth accepted the explanation without comment. "The next logical question would be why?"

McKay didn't answer right away and John had the sneaking suspicion there was more involved than just keeping the timeline intact.

"Let's just say," McKay said slowly, voice rough. "I'm the Hail Mary."

Oh Jesus, that was just too -- John's gut clenched in horror as he translated -- disaster.  Disaster too huge and devastating to think about, the kind that could hinder Rodney McKay and turn him into the strange shell sitting before them. In a flash, John added up all the little things that bothered him: the quietness, the slow movements, the sadness that tinged all of his actions. Sometime in the future they failed so spectacularly that the only recourse was to go back and try again.

Rodney however wasn't satisfied, "So you've decided to take a big eraser to history?"

"Yeah," McKay sneered. "That's exactly what this is, a playful romp through the annals of time."

"Children!" John barked. "Fight later, pretend to be grown ups now." He pointed at McKay, still feeling unsettled. "Anything else you're willing to tell us?"

McKay shook his head. "I'm not willing to do more than help you figure out the Ancient technology. Anything more than that and there's no way I could begin to predict the consequences."

"You're kidding me, right?" Rodney asked.

"Fine," McKay said. "Try not to die, pretty much all of you do." He turned to Rodney. "Happy?"

"Not really, no." Rodney crossed his arms. "Could you try to be a little more vague?"

McKay crossed his arms right back. "There are things I want to make sure happen and they're not the sort of things you can plan out."

"I believe in serendipity in my old age?" Rodney turned to Beckett. "Are you sure he's sane?"

Beckett shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, his brain is perfectly fine."

John frowned and stared at Beckett who continued to look uncomfortable. "But?" He prompted.

"But nothing," McKay answered. "I'm perfectly sane." He straightened his clothes self-consciously. "Just a bit older."

"How much older?" Rodney asked.

McKay looked up, humor lighting his eyes. "I thought we covered the age thing earlier."

John watched as McKay successfully sent Rodney into sputtering incoherent half-sentences, taking mental notes. It seemed like a useful skill. He also thought that Rodney was exaggerating the age thing; McKay looked more tired than anything else. The extra wrinkles and graying hair couldn't have added more than fifteen years.

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth interrupted again.

"Sorry," McKay said, sounding almost like he meant it. "But my younger self over there isn't thinking about the consequences of knowing even the most innocuous details." He turned to John. "Also, you're right, it *is* fun to ramp me up."

John's head perked up. "Don't suppose I could get that in writing?"

"Actually," Rodney snapped. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Well stop it." McKay shook his head.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Dr. McKay," Elizabeth said. "The older one," she added as Rodney opened his mouth to speak. "I'd prefer if we not corrupt the timeline more than needed."

Rodney pointed a finger at her. "But when you--"

"That was different," Elizabeth interrupted. "She was telling us of events that happened in the past."

John heard Rodney mutter quietly. He shook his head in amusement; Rodney wasn't going to give up without a long and dirty fight. There might possibly be hair pulling. "Rodney, give it up, he's older than you and knows your bag of tricks."

Rodney made an angry noise, but slumped in his seat.

McKay opened his mouth go say something, but yawned hugely instead. "Sorry," he muttered, "but manipulating a 10,000 year old system so that there are as few traces as possible and then sacking out on the floor, isn't conducive to a good night's rest."

John watched Beckett abort a movement to the older man's side. Elizabeth's sharp eyes must have caught it too because she nodded. "Let's let our guest get some rest." She held up a hand to forestall the protest they all knew was coming from Rodney. "I'm sure Dr, McKay will be happy to hand over enough material to keep us all occupied while he's indisposed."

Backing her up, McKay nodded. "I dug up an older flash drive. It's still a few years ahead of you guys, but backwards compatibility was still in style last time I checked." He attached it to his computer and started moving files. "I'll throw all the ZedPM notes on there and few other things besides." He looked up with a small smile. "You'll be in heaven and won't even notice I'm not there."

After that, the meeting cleared out quickly. Elizabeth stopped John before he could get up. "I think you should spend some time with him." She gestured to where McKay and Beckett were talking quietly. "As much as I agree with what he said…" she trailed off meaningfully.

John nodded. "He's been on the run for god knows how long; it'd be cruel to leave him to his own thoughts." He eyed McKay from across the room; the older face, the thin veneer of strength stretched over frailty. He looked thin and tired. With Beckett towering over him, even the force of his personality wasn't enough to even out the visual.

Elizabeth patted him on the shoulder and left.

"Rodney!" Beckett's raised voice came from where he and McKay were talking. He was obviously having trouble remembering the name thing. John didn't blame him.

"Carson," McKay's lowered voice said. "I said no." He left no room for argument.

Beckett's shoulders slumped. "Fine." John had to strain to hear as Beckett bent close to McKay, "but I'll be checking in on you so often you'll wish you said yes."

McKay nodded. "You can try."

John decided it was time to step up to the plate. "Come on, McKay, I think I got volunteered to find you a place to stay."

McKay pushed away from the table, standing up with only a small wince. "Carson," he acknowledged and then moved past him to stand next to John. "Well, lead the way."

******

John let McKay set the pace, surprised when it became a slow amble. Even when injured, Rodney seemed to run off of some sort of weird frenetic energy source. When McKay veered off from their path, John let him, following curiously without a word. They wandered through the corridors carefully, McKay taking turns seemingly at random, but he never hesitated, never stopped to think about it, so John didn't speak up.

Finally they stopped in front of one of the more isolated balconies. McKay looked at him, silently asking for permission.

John shrugged. "Sure."

McKay swung the doors open and stepped outside, stopping just on the other side of the threshold, basking in… something John couldn't see.

"Like the view?" McKay called back to him.

John stepped out next to him and looked around. It wasn't all that different from most of the other views on Atlantis, spectacular, but you' seen one, you'd seen them all. He took another step and as the angle shifted, the mist aligned with the sunlight. He gasped in surprise at the rainbow danced in the air, wrapping around Atlantis like a bow. Then he squinted; by tilting his head, the spectrum of colors seemed--

"The white light here isn't quite the same as that on earth," McKay explained. "It breaks down differently."

"Oh," John said, too distracted by the wavering rainbow to say anything else.

"We discovered it a few years ago, or from now, depends on your perspective." McKay moved to stand next to him. "Sorry I took us on this little detour, but I figured if I was going to be interrogated, I might as well have a good view."

John looked at McKay only to discover him still gazing off into the horizon. "This isn't an interrogation."

"Excuse me." McKay gave him an awkward smile. "Friendly conversation." He wandered over to a shadowed section  to their right. "Now, if I remember correctly, ah ha." He lifted off a white silken tarp, unlatching its secure holdings with ease. Beneath it were several low-laying mutated beach chairs. McKay dragged two of them out to the center and sat down on the one closest to him. "There, all comfy. Please commence the questioning that's carefully disguised as friendly conversation but is actually meant to elicit little bits of information."

John snagged the other chair and settled in. "There is no interrogation," he insisted. "We just thought you'd like some company."

"No." McKay shook his head, gathering the drape that had been covering the chairs in his lap. "You thought that. Elizabeth is hoping that by sending you to keep me company, she'll be able to say it wasn't her idea when I accidentally or not so accidentally feed you information."

"You’ve gotten paranoid in your old age." John settled into his chair, surprised at how comfortable it was.

"I've always been paranoid." McKay arranged the fabric in his hands so that it draped over his legs. "The knees respond to cold more than they used to," he explained.

"So," John started after long moments of silence. "Got any words of wisdom?"

"Yeah," McKay said. "Don't piss off the Wraith."

"Good advice."

"I know."

McKay seemed content to sit quietly. His eyes fluttered halfway shut and his breathing evened out. John watched his chest rise and fall carefully, contemplating the movements, something bothering him about them.

"You died slowly and horribly, screaming in agony." McKay's voice startled John in its suddenness. "And I got to watch," he finished tightly.

"What happened to not corrupting the timeline?" John asked, trying not to think of dozens of the most obvious ways his death could fit that description.

"What can I say?" McKay's eyelids didn't flicker; he continued to resemble someone mostly asleep. "I'm a selfish bastard. Besides, I haven't really told you all that much."

There were times that John knew you had to shut up and let it come to you. "Well, I know that I die slowly, probably while captured, most likely by the Wraith, that you're there, and that you escape." John was never very good at shutting up. He ticked off each bit of information on his fingers.

"Very good." McKay still hadn't moved. "Is this where I’m supposed to absently correct you?"

"I'm not trying to trick you!" John snapped, annoyed.

"I wish you would," McKay said quietly. "There's a lot of things I'd like to talk to you about."

John's eyes widened in surprise. "So then, this," he gestured between the two of them, "was you being subtle?"

A smug grin tugged at McKay's lips. "Maybe."

"You little shit." John laughed. "Older and wilier."

"Pet names aren't going to get you anywhere."

Something in the lilt of McKay's voice stopped John short. There was an extra layer of warmth added to the already complex web their Rodney hadn't quite built up himself. It hid beneath the strange vulnerability that McKay carried with him, but it was still there. "What aren't you telling me?"

McKay opened his eyes fully and swung his legs over the side of the foot rest, pulling himself completely upright. John followed suit. "A lot of things, John. A lot of things."

They faced each other, a strange tension palpable between them.

"Ask me," McKay said. "Ask me why I call you John." He leaned forward, pressing one hand gently on John's knee. "Ask me," he said again, almost pleading.

John swallowed roughly; a tingle of energy ran from the hand on his knee up his spine. "I-- I-- what happened to the rules?" His voice had dissolved into a low rasp and his hand moved to cover McKay's.

"Screw the rules," McKay said harshly. "I can't--" He stopped when his voice broke. "I can't do this without bending some of the rules."

That's when John saw him break just a little, the calm man that had answered all of their questions, who had submitted to all of their tests, cracked around the edges. "Why?" John whispered, the word falling from his lips before he could stop it.

McKay surged forward, showing more energy in that second than he had the entire time since John had met him. His lips collided with John's; hungrily kissing him with a desperation that scared him. John made a small noise in the back of his throat, because any way you diced it, this was Rodney kissing him so fiercely and it was perfect and amazing and like a hurricane on a clear day.

The hands on his knee tightened in a vice grip, so John used his other hand to cup McKay's cheek, to slow him down before they both drowned. McKay's sweet mouth nibbled at John's lips then licked his way inside, mapping each curve with determined enthusiasm, all the while making small desperate noises.

John's back burned with the awkward angle and McKay's energy slowly dwindled until finally they separated in a series of small, aching kisses. McKay slid off the chair and to his knees and pressed his chest firmly against John's, locking arms around him and holding tightly.

He buried his face in John's breast bone and breathed deeply, shaking. "Sorry," he said, voice muffled. "It's been a while."

Carefully, John hugged back, tracing down McKay's spine, frowning slightly at the easily felt bones. Eventually he ended up drawing slow circles on his back. "S'okay, Rodney," he said, breaking the name rule. "S'okay." He pressed a short kiss into McKay's hair.

Eventually McKay pulled away, looking up into John's eyes, and for a brief moment he couldn't help but feel like an intruder into something he couldn't understand because he hadn’t lived through it, but then McKay kissed him again. Slowly and carefully, they traded kisses; hands trailing warm tingles down John's back, knowing exactly where to touch.

John found his way to McKay's neck, nibbling lightly at the stubble, smiling at McKay's uncontrolled gasp. It was slow and dreamlike and warm and comfortable and sweet and John found himself aching from the inside out.

Until McKay shifted and hissed in pain. "My knees," he murmured.

John eased away and helped him back into his chair. Once McKay was seated again, he smiled at John brightly. "And to think, I could barely keep up with you before."

"Okay, self pity really isn't your style," John said, squeezing his hand. "Complaining till you're blue in the face? Maybe."

McKay made a face that seemed to say 'blah blah, heard it all before.' "So," he said tracing a finger over the back of John's hand. "I really am beat. Think we can find those quarters now?"

John kissed him again firmly, enjoying the strange illicit feeling. "Come on, before I forget myself and drop you off a ledge."

McKay laughed, standing slowly. "Just go ahead and pull my pigtails. I promise not to go crying to Elizabeth."

******

Later, after McKay stumbled wearily into bed, John watched him drop off into sleep within the blink of an eye and thought very hard about what had happened.

He couldn't quite bring himself to feel bad. Of course, there was a part of him that knew it was all a horrible idea, that McKay was clinging to him like John was his security blanket. Considering how much they needed McKay whole and in one piece for as long as possible, the ruthless soldier inside of him was all for the idea. However, the best friend inside of him wilted at the thought of stringing McKay along. Then,  deep in the dark recesses of his own mind, he admitted that maybe he was doing a bit of using himself.

McKay twitched in his sleep, clutching at his pillow tightly. John smoothed a hand over his brow, feeling the deep lines in his skin. "I'm here, Rodney, I'm here." The effect was almost instantaneous; McKay quieted down and his fingers relaxed their hold.

Trapped like a rat on a sinking ship. John resigned himself to getting the shit kicked out of him on a number of different levels over the coming days.

He slipped out once he was sure McKay was well and truly asleep and snagged his laptop from his office. It wouldn't be fair to leave the man alone, but he wasn't going to be bored while doing his good deed.

He took the opportunity to catch up to Elizabeth and inform her of his new plan. Not the one that involved kissing and hugging and possibly sex, but the one that was sane, if a bit sentimental. He also ran into Rodney, who he hoped hadn't seen the flush creeping up from under his collar.

"How's naptime at the retirement village going?" Rodney asked.

Okay then, obviously not noticing. "Well it was a little dicey earlier when he got a whiff of the mashed banana, but he settled down when I threatened to take away his Ensure --what the hell is the matter with you?" John asked, annoyed.

"Nothing," Rodney dismissed, already walking away.

"Well then," John called after him. "I'll tell him you inquired about his health."

Rodney ignored him and ducked into a side corridor.

"I'm sure he'll be glad to know you cared!" John yelled, mostly in good nature.

Rodney's "Shut up!" could be heard faintly in the distance.

John smiled, whistling an off-key tune as he strolled back to McKay's room.

Hours of paperwork, email memos, and endless games of solitaire later, the door slid open soundlessly. Beckett stood framed in the doorway, startled to see him in the room.

"Hey," John greeted quietly. "Looking for me?"

Beckett shook his head and pointed. "Him. The lunatic that thinks I'll just let this go."

John put down his computer and assumed his usual careless slump. "Let what go?"

"You tell him," McKay's rusty voice said from under the covers, "I talk about that incident with the rice pudding."

John watched Beckett go bright red, straighten his shoulders, and make a grim face. "I was twenty," he said. "She was a red head, and there was a lot of slipping."

McKay's head popped up from under the blankets and blinked at him blearily. "Huh, didn't really expect that."

Oddly, it was a relief to see McKay not all-knowing about something.

"Now." Beckett set his case down and sat on the edge of the bed. "Will you let me check up on you?"

"Fine," McKay grumbled, shuffling into an upright position. "But I'm not going to change my mind."

"Bloody stubborn mule," Beckett muttered, digging into his bag taking out his stethoscope and an Ancient scanning device.

The juxtaposition of the two, as always, made John blink. "I'll leave you two alone for this bit." He went to stand.

"No," McKay said quietly. "Stay." He waited patiently for John to resume his previous position before going on. "Carson can just learn a bit of discretion."

"He's got a serious condition that he won't let me treat," Beckett said pointedly, not looking up from his scans.

"Godamnit." McKay blustered. "Would you *stop* that?" He glared at Beckett before turning to John. "Fine, I have cancer, now maybe he'll stop holding it over my head."

"Aye, and I've got a sheep that shits gold," Beckett muttered.

"Cancer? What kind?" John asked, reeling from the word. Cancer. It boomed around in his head, echoing, although it did explain a lot

"Leukemia," McKay answered. "Possibly the beginnings of bone cancer, though I think I'm just not used to running around without my meds."

John ran a hand through his hair and let Beckett finish his scans while the information sank in. The point of contention between McKay and Beckett seemed to be treatment. From the snippets of conversation John overheard, McKay only wanted to treat the symptoms, but not the cause. Beckett objected strenuously and John frankly agreed with him.

"I trust," McKay said conversationally, "that nothing's changed all that much in the last few hours?"

The glimmer of hope in McKay's eyes made John sit up and take notice. On the surface, McKay had a sort of casual air about him, that of a man who knew his fate and was pretty much resigned to it, but underneath was something more, a spark of knowledge that--

"You're using it as a gauge?" John asked incredulously. "You're assuming that the cancer was caused by some event that you're hoping to avoid?"

McKay ducked his head. "No assumptions necessary. I'm fairly sure of it."

"That's ridiculous!" Beckett snapped. "You can't be sure."

The distant reflection of memory shone in McKay's eyes. "Yes I can."

"You're insane," John pronounced slowly, just in case McKay had trouble hearing. "You're refusing treatment because you've got some crazy idea that it's all for the greater good?"

"No," McKay said. "I've already told you, I'm a selfish bastard."

Beckett huffed, slamming his bag around as much as he dared. "You're a dying selfish bastard."

McKay flinched and looked away, eyes focused steadily on the floor. "Yes, I am."

"Here." Beckett fished out a small bottle. "Take these once a day and these," he fished out another bottle, "twice a day, with food."

"Never thought I'd miss the SubCu injections," McKay sighed. "Fine, I'll take the pills, they'll help me through the day anyway." He carefully popped open one of the containers and swallowed a pill dry. "That reminds me; you should take mine out and study it."

"Aye," Beckett agreed. "I have to admit I'd been curious about the little bugger."

John listened absently as the two discussed injection methods, leaps in medical potential and long-term effectiveness. McKay was using his own body as a judge for his own success. That certainly took hubris to another level; it also explained the desperation in his actions. John was fairly sure he'd just become a dying man's last wish and he wasn't sure if he had it in him to say yes, or to say no.

"Oh for god's sake." McKay's voice interrupted his musings. "Just cut it out, I'll do it for you if you want."

"And have you complain about shoddy workmanship? I don't think so." Beckett frowned at him. "If you think I enjoy performing minor surgery in less than antiseptic conditions--"

McKay held his hands up. "I give; we'll visit your chamber of horrors at some point so you can take it out."

John was amused that McKay could somehow remain so much himself over the course of a number of, if he was reading the material right, rough years, but McKay had some 'splaining to do and he wasn't going to do it with Beckett in the room. "You about done there, Doc?"

"As done as he'll let me be." Beckett favored McKay with another angry glare. "Rodney," he softened fractionally, "I don't want to watch you do this to yourself."

"I appreciate that Carson." McKay smiled sadly. "I do, but somewhere along the way, the sacrifices get easier and they really shouldn't."

Beckett swallowed at the unspoken implication. A self-sacrificing McKay, when danger wasn't breathing its halitosis laden breath down their necks, was a scary concept indeed. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will." McKay patted the pill bottles in his hand. "Now go off and practice your mad science on someone else."

Beckett nodded, giving his friend one last look and John a tight, "Colonel," before turning on his heel and leaving.

The silence was tense. McKay rattled around the pills bottles for a while, reading the labels before carefully placing them on the table next to the bed. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Couple hours."

McKay nodded, stretching. A loud popping noise came from his back, "I can't tell if that means I slept really well," he stretched again, "or really badly."

John didn't say anything while he watched McKay's careful movements. It seemed practiced and routine, the flexing of fingers, the slow swinging of legs over the edge, the careful shift of weight to his feet. Normally it wasn't anything too worrying, some mornings John himself was starting to feel a little extra stiffness. Now, however… now it was a whole other thing.

"So are we not speaking now?" McKay asked after he was standing. "Because I’d love to skip this conversation  if I have a choice."

John stood up and took the half-step he needed to be in McKay's personal space. "Cancer," he breathed closing his eyes. "Didn't see that one coming."

McKay leaned his head on John's shoulder. His warm breath skirted across John's skin, raising goose bumps and making him flash hot then cold then hot again. "You should have, I warned you about it enough."

That was true, Rodney constantly complained about the many ways he could die, radiation poisoning of one type or another most recently at the top of the list. John had just never thought he'd be right. His hands found their way to McKay's shoulders, kneading softly. He opened his eyes as McKay pulled back. "What’s this?" John asked, as his thumb traced up the side of McKay's neck and down his jaw line.

"This is me," McKay said, leaning in, "being a selfish bastard." He gave John one last condescending look before brushing their lips together. "We've been over that."

John gave in enough to kiss back gently, feeling the small shudder run through McKay's body.

"God, I missed you," McKay said into his neck. He breathed deeply, causing small wisps of air to run across the skin. John shivered into the touch, moving his hands to the small of McKay's back.

There were people in life you weren't supposed to have tumultuous secretive relationships with. Married people, in-laws, bosses, the older version of the person you *would* be having that relationship with given half the chance. As soon as McKay kissed him just so under his ear -- a desperate, needy kiss -- all of that fell away in a shiver of pleasure.

McKay directed John to the bed, pushing gently at his chest until he flopped backward. He pushed up onto his elbows in time to see McKay fumbling with his pants. He blinked in confusion for a half a second before stopping him with a firm flick of his hand. Reaching, he cupped McKay's cheek again, moving forward to kiss him.

The kiss ended and began again, over and over and McKay wrapped himself around John, arms pulling tightly around his neck. It was just like on the balcony, John needing to reach down only the smallest of spaces to kiss McKay. This time, though, the kisses made it past the gentle desperate stage and into something scorching hot and dizzying in intensity, the firm press of another body against his just helping the cause.

This time when fumbling hands reached for John's pants, he didn't stop them, already achingly hard, he gave McKay one last kiss before falling back to the bed.

McKay sucked cock like a pro; actually, he sucked John's cock like a pro. His tongue did obscene things to the underside that left John gasping so hard the edges of his vision blurred. He was racing towards the end already, but it had been too long since anything like this had happened and it felt way too amazing for him to have any sort of control.

"Rodney," he breathed. "RodneyRodneyRodney." Their hands threaded together, holding tight. Surprisingly nimble fingers traced under his balls, pressing firmly into that sweet spot. McKay swallowed him whole, John’s body jumped and shuddered, and he was lost in the sweet, wet, heat that was McKay's mouth.

John had just enough warning to say," Rodney, I--" before he came in long devastating pulses that McKay swallowed enthusiastically, making John shudder more with each careful swallow until finally he was wrung out, empty inside. Only then did McKay let him slide out with a quiet pop.

John was sweating down to his toes, hell, his hair was still twitching as Rodney climbed up into the bed next to him. John shifted and paused momentarily as he realized he hadn't even noticed McKay had tucked him away and zipped him up.

McKay slung an arm over John's chest and made himself comfortable on his shoulder. John eased an arm free going to return the favor but found it got tangled up in McKay's hand.

"It's okay, John," McKay said, eyes still closed. "I appreciate the thought, but we don't have the time to work around all the obstacles."

"Obstacles?" He had trouble saying the word; his muscles still hadn't managed to re-coordinate all the way.

McKay pushed up and gave him a dopey grin. "Meds, age, illness-- shall I continue the depressing litany?"

"Oh," John said, his buzz already cut short.

"No worries." McKay kissed his shoulder. "I plan on getting off, just later, when we have hours to work with."

A small little thrill went through John. Of course. Hours. What was he thinking?

******

Elizabeth cornered him at his late dinner and there was no one to hide behind, because both Rodney and McKay were hidden away in the lab trading insults. Ronon gave him an 'are you kidding me?' look when John made a move towards him and Teyla was off somewhere being Athosian.

"Colonel Sheppard," she called to him.

Resigned, he gestured to the free seat in front of him, which she took.

"How is Dr. McKay doing?"

John pressed his lips together, trying to think of an answer that would get her to leave him alone. He liked her and as a general rule valued her opinions, but at that very second he really didn't want them. "He's old and tired and probably a little bit less sane than the Rodney we're used to."

She nodded and it was quite possibly that she'd come to a similar conclusion.

He went on. "Pretty much what you'd expect from anyone who was the survivor of a post-apocalyptic civilization."

Surprised, Elizabeth gasped. "You think so?"

"He said it himself," John explained. "He's their last chance, and a long shot at that."

He watched Elizabeth nod slowly; covering her horror with a sip from the cup she was holding. Diplomats had a tendency to forget the realities their hard truths and stunning speeches often referen