Fic: Happiness is a Warm Gun (Part 2 of 2) (McKay/Sheppard)

Title: Happiness is a Warm Gun
Author: lunasky
Recipient: argosy
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R/NC-17
Word Count: 16,483
Timeline/Spoilers: Takes place during 402—Lifeline (between getting ZPM but before landing on the new planet).
Summary: It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes. ~Douglas Adams

A/N: I hope you like this dear! I hope you have a very Merry Christmas. Many thanks to my two betas who I will thank profusely after the reveal. All remaining mistakes are mine. Also a big thanks to our mods for putting this all together. You guys rock.

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Part 1



2045 hrs

Rodney relaxed when he saw the infirmary doors already partially open, and a glow of light spilling from within.

"Hello?" He called out. The cart wouldn't fit through the gap, so Sheppard hoisted Peterson back on his shoulders and went in with Rodney close on his heels.

"Hello?" Keller answered.

The rhythmic pumping of a ventilator echoed in the room. Rodney looked around, his eyes stinging in the brightness. There were three flood-lights running off a generator humming along in the corner.

The infirmary was almost full, the dozen or so beds all occupied and a few people were even on stretchers and cots set up around the perimeter of the room. But the room was void of any human sound. The hair on Rodney's neck stood up. Everyone seemed to be asleep. "What the hell is going on?" Rodney asked.

Keller rushed over, her hair falling out of its ponytail. "I'm so glad to see you both. You're all okay, right? Everyone else is okay?"

When Rodney nodded, she asked urgently, "Why have we lost power? Why can't I get hold of anyone? What's going on?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," Sheppard said, laying Peterson down on an empty cot. "We found him in the Environmental Controls room. It looks like he's been badly burned."

Keller shot them both a look before bending down to examine Peterson, unwinding the stethoscope from around her neck. She checked his pulse and his lungs and looked at the surface of his face and hands before standing back up. "It looks like he has the same injuries that Sergeant Hansen came in with earlier. Severe burns and his heartbeat is weak and irregular. All I can do is keep an eye on him for now. I have hardly any power here and someone is already on the ventilator."

Sheppard followed her up. "He's a strong kid. He lasted the whole ride here. Do what you can, Doc."

Rodney continued his quiet exploration, walking around until he came to Hansen's bed. Aside from the obvious blisters and burns on Hansen's face, he looked like he was sleeping peacefully. "Any idea what caused these injuries?"

Keller went over to the cabinet where she kept all her drugs. "It looks like he received a massive electrical burn. I managed to hook the scanner up long enough to have a look before it blew my other generator—he has some pretty deep tissue burns. I was hoping one of you would know what's going on and how to fix it."

"We're working on it," he said, not paying much attention to the grim look on Keller's face.

"But—if you guys can't...who can?"

Sheppard patted her reassuringly on the arm while Rodney searched Hansen's belongings for any clue to what had happened. Aside from the potatoes, there was just the standard issued kit; his tac vest, a knife, some paracord, a canteen, flashlight, and notepad—which of course, contained nothing useful whatsoever. Rodney pocketed the potatoes, knife, rope, and flashlight and then picked up the canteen. His stomach growled again, reminding him that all he'd eaten in the last ten hours was a stale Power Bar. "Doctor Keller, were do you keep your emergency rations—"

Rodney turned around in time to see her approaching Sheppard, something gleaming in her hands. Before he understood what was happening she'd put the needle into Sheppard's arm; her movements exact and swift.

"John—" Rodney shouted too late. Sheppard tried to fight; managed to knock her away, but only after she'd done the injection and stood there looking horror-stricken.

"Ow—" Sheppard rubbed his arm and tried to speak, but didn't get very far. For a few seconds, it looked like he was okay, but when he tried to take a step, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell.

Rodney managed to catch him just before he cracked his head on the side of the bed.

"What did you do!" he shouted at Keller, his arms around Sheppard's middle. He may have been skinny, but he was still heavy and awkward, and the panic bubbling in Rodney's chest didn't make him any stronger.

Keller still looked wide-eyed and stunned, but that didn't stop her from approaching Rodney with another needle. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Rodney. But it's all I can do. We've been hours without any power. Nothing works, I can't do my job—I can't help any of them. And they were screaming—Hansen too. He was screaming so much. So I helped them sleep. I can keep everyone under until we regain power, I have enough drugs. I just have to be careful not to make the anesthesia too strong. But I can do it. And when the power comes back on, I'll be able to help people again. Don't you understand?"

Rodney let Sheppard drop to the floor so he could scramble away, toppling over an IV stand and a chair, trying to block her path. Neither stopped her for very long.

"What did you give him?" Rodney demanded, eyes flicking momentarily to Sheppard's unconscious form.

Keller gave him a faint smile. "A Propofol-cocktail. Don't worry, you're not allergic to it, I checked. You'll wake up happy and rested. Doesn't that sound good?"

"Um...no. Not really." Rodney made a break for the door but Keller tackled him from behind and tried to pin him to the wall.

He squirmed away. She was surprisingly strong, but Rodney had the advantage of height and weight. They struggled, with Rodney holding her hand away from him, until she tried to bite him. Then he jerked his arm down, forcing hers down as well, so that she stabbed herself with the needle, injecting herself with some of the drug in the process.

Rodney let her slide to the floor. He wrestled Sheppard onto his shoulders, panting heavily and left the infirmary without waiting around to see if it was enough to knock her unconscious.

2130 hrs

The shaky wheel rattled through the halls. Sheppard was laying half on, half off the cart, his arms secured by the paracord Rodney had acquired.

Rodney cursed Keller's and Zelenka's and Ronon's and Simpson's names out loud as he maneuvered the cart while trying to check his laptop for a route that would allow him to stay on this level for the maximum amount of time. The only good news he'd had this whole evening was that this was one of the main connecting levels and so aside from having to detour around some sections where the Ancients has seen fit to install three stairs down followed by three stairs back up a few meters later, he was able to keep using the cart for another ten minutes.

Sheppard started singing what sounded an awful lot like Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.

When they reached the atrium, Rodney wheeled the cart off to the side because this was as far as they could go and he was exhausted. A stairwell loomed off to the side, mocking him, but as Sheppard was working up what sounded like a crescendo, Rodney doubted that he was in any condition to continue on foot.

Rodney tied his headlamp to the cart and then plopped down on a nearby couch and looked up at the starless sky visible through the ceiling. "We're going to die here, wherever here is. And people are going to find us a thousand years from now, lying in this damn atrium, you tied to a cart and me with a bunch of potatoes in my pocket. What the hell are they going to think?"

"Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me hoooooome," was Sheppard's response. When he'd finished singing, Rodney listened to his even breathing and thought maybe he'd drifted off to sleep again. He'd been in and out of consciousness for the past half-hour.

After a few minutes, Sheppard stirred and tried to move his hands, so Rodney got back up, got out the knife and cut his arms loose. "What happened?" Sheppard finally managed to ask as he forced his eyes open.

Rodney knew if he let go of the bubbling, hysterical laughter that was building up inside him, it would be hours before he stopped. "Well, let's see. First there was a big boom. Then everything went dark and we spent ten hours trying to find out why. Then there was Keller. In the Infirmary. With a needle."

"Sounds like a bad game of Clue," Sheppard mumbled. He tried to roll over and almost fell off the cart. Rodney grabbed his shoulders just as the cart started to roll out from under him and helped him get to his feet. Unfortunately, as soon as Sheppard's feet touched the floor, he almost passed out again.

Supporting all his weight, Rodney half-carried, half-dragged him over to the couch and helped him lie down. He remembered belatedly that he probably should have kept Sheppard's feet elevated in the first place, instead of trying to make him stand.

Rodney sat down on the end of the couch and brought Sheppard's feet up onto his lap. "How do you not fall on your face more often?" he said mostly to himself, since Sheppard was drooling into the seat cushion. Toying with the laces of Sheppard's half-open boots, Rodney debated tying them up or removing them altogether.

Eventually Sheppard groaned. Rodney tried to help him along by shaking his legs.

"Stopdat," Sheppard said, swatting at Rodney's hands.

"Then wake up," Rodney replied, relieved. Sheppard seemed more coherent. "I really don't want to do this alone. Though possibly I'd get to the ZPM room faster without having to carry you along on a cart or convince you of the correct route every half hour, but I'm really not that keen on being by myself in the dark. Not that I'm scared, you know. It's just—what if Ronon decides to do us in? God knows it seems like everyone else has. I'd never see him coming."

Sheppard turned onto his side and tried to lift his head, eyeing the canteen on the side of the cart. With a sigh, Rodney got up, got the canteen and helped Sheppard get some water down his throat.

"Don't say I never do anything for you," Rodney said, having a seat again beside Sheppard, who was now sitting up.

"I still feel a little drunk," Sheppard said, rubbing his head.

"No kidding. So is this drunk in an 'I love everyone' way, or drunk in a 'I'm going to puke way?" Rodney asked, ready to vacate the couch if Sheppard looked like he was going to vomit. Friendship was friendship but smelling puke would just make him puke up as well. And his stomach was already empty enough, thank you very much.

Instead of answering, Sheppard leaned his head against Rodney's shoulder and burrowed into the couch.

"Of course," Rodney said with a sigh. Well, at least it wasn't puking. And maybe if they could rest for a few minutes—maybe ten—certainly no more than thirty—they'd be faster and more able to deal with whatever it was they had been trying to deal with before, the details of which currently escaped him.

Sheppard's warmth tricked him into closing his eyes. On some level, he knew it was wrong to take advantage of Sheppard's nearness in his compromised state, but if felt too nice not to. Rodney figured it couldn't really hurt. It's not like he was touching Sheppard, it was Sheppard doing all the touching; he just wasn't pushing him away. And they were only going to rest for a little while; it was likely Sheppard wouldn't remember anyway. After they'd saved the day, he and Sheppard could go back to their regular non-touching ways, as long as he could enjoy the feel of Sheppard sitting right next to him now.

That made him feel a little better, which is why he was completely unprepared when Sheppard lifted his head and kissed him.

The kiss was soft but definitely intentional, and it was the firm pressure that finally restarted Rodney's brain after it short-circuited.

Rodney opened his eyes, ready for anything except the sight of Sheppard looking right back at him. Sheppard—John, Rodney corrected himself because he suddenly refused to keep referring to him as Sheppard, at least in his own head, finally broke the kiss.

Rodney tried to look away, tried to find something to say that would make any sense, but consonants wouldn't form in his mouth.

"Rodney, you okay?" Sheppard asked with a quirky smile on his lips. He was sober, which freaked Rodney out even more.

"Uh huh," Rodney nodded, in case his mumblings weren't understandable. He was good. He was fine. It was just his world that was imploding.

"Cause you're mouth is moving, but nothing's coming out."

"I'm...You..."

"It's okay. Breathe," Sheppard said, tracing his finger across Rodney's cheek, destroying him all over again and reminding him that he hadn't shaved in over a day. For some reason Sheppard, seemed to like his stubble. He kept running his fingers over it.

"Why did you do that?" Rodney finally managed to snag one of the thoughts running through his mind and direct it out his mouth. "Is it because of what Keller gave you?"

Sheppard shook his head. "I've wanted to kiss you for a while now, I just couldn't. I still shouldn't, but I suppose I can blame Keller's drugs if someone finds out."

The statement hung in the air, and even if Rodney hadn't understood the meaning, the questioning look on Sheppard's face made it abundantly clear.

Rodney shook his head. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to tell anyone."

Sheppard's lips twisted into a crooked smile. "Are you sure? 'Cause sometimes you like to talk..."

"I am capable of keeping a secret, you know. I've worked for the US Air Force for almost fifteen years. A—I know how to keep a secret, B—I know how things work in the military and C—Why in God's name would I try and screw this up?"

"So it was okay, then?" Sheppard asked quietly, running his lips across Rodney's jaw-line.

Rodney nodded and mumbled "Uh huh," again and brought Sheppard's mouth back to his own before whatever fates existed in the universe woke up and wondered what the hell was going on.

2155 hrs

John leaned forward to undo Rodney's fly and Rodney worked his hand into John's pants. Doing so required them both to lie on the couch, which wasn't much bigger than one of the Ancient beds, with John's body curled up towards Rodney in a twisted form of sixty-nine. John didn't seem to care, though, that they weren't coordinated or graceful or modest.

For Rodney's part, the only thing he could concentrate on was the amazing, wonderful, heady feeling filling his body that he never, ever, ever wanted to stop.

2157 hrs

John sucked Rodney's cock into his mouth and that's when Rodney's brain stopped functioning all together.

2212 hrs

Rodney lay immobile on the couch, staring up at the blank sky, and sighed happily. The batteries in his headlamp were dying; the light was down to a low, yellowish tinge that barely illuminated the cart. John was snoring lightly, resting his head in Rodney's lap. Their clothes were all over the place, Rodney's hand was a sticky mess, and yet he thought that this was perhaps the happiest he'd ever been in his life.

He combed the fingers of his clean hand through John's already wildly out-of-control hair, making it stick up in different directions, patted it down, and then started all over again.

John stirred, opening his eyes to look up at him, and Rodney smiled back. "Thank you," he said quietly.

John sat up and stretched. "For what? I think we both enjoyed that."

"Maybe," Rodney conceded. "But still, I'm not completely convinced you're not under the influence of something, and I'm just worried that when you really wake up you're going to hate me for letting you do that. I figured I should thank you before that happened—"

"I'm not going to hate you, Rodney. I promise. And I feel fine. Really. I have a bit of a headache, but I'm not drugged."

Rodney looked at him in the fading lamplight. "That remains to be seen. You know, I wonder if we're not all drugged...with everything that's happening..." Rodney let his sentence trail off as the meaning of the words sunk in. He sat up straighter and grabbed Sheppard's arm. "It would certainly explain a few things."

"Like?" John said, sitting up as well.

"Well, like everyone's behavior, for one. In the middle of an emergency, we found Ronon and Teyla taking time out for a sparring match? That was a little weird. And then Miller went for a nap while on duty and Keller tried to knock you out. Not to mention the fact that Zelenka may be trying to kill us...Oh God," Rodney wailed as he illuminated the dial face on his watch. "It's almost ten thirty. Whatever horrible thing Zelenka's planning is going to happen in an hour and a half, and we've been sitting here—oh no."

"Calm down, Rodney," John said. He got up and started to put his clothes back in order.

"No. No, I think that's exactly what the problem has been. We've been entirely too calm ever since this happened. You realize it's taken us ten hours and we still haven't gotten to the ZPM room? What are the chances Zelenka's even still there?"

John threw the canteen over to Rodney. "Clean up as best you can, and we'll go. If we hurry, we should be able to make it there on time."

2236 hrs

Rodney shone his light up the stairwell that would lead them up to the ZPM room. It went up further than his flashlight could illuminate.

John slapped him on the back. "Come on. We'll take it nice and slow."

With a nod, Rodney prepared to leave behind this miserable section of the city.

Just at that moment, the sound of several pounding feet echoed down the hall. John swung his flashlight in the direction of the noise, just as Rodney jumped out of the way.

They were then greeted by the sight of Stackhouse, Biro, Parrish and Ronon, running naked through the hall.

Ronon and Parrish gave them a wave as they passed; Biro shyly put a hand over her chest and giggled while Stackhouse yelled out a passing "Hi, Sir!"

John managed to grab Stackhouse's arm as he sprinted by, only because he was the last one and lagging behind. "Stackhouse, what the hell are you doing?"

"Polar Bear Club, sir." Stackhouse said, out of breath.

Rodney tried really hard not to glance at Stackhouse's body. Not because he was interested in Stackhouse, he wasn't in the least, but being completely butt-naked in the middle of Atlantis wasn't something that was easy to ignore. He compensated by injecting the appropriate amount of scorn into his voice. "We're in the middle of an emergency here, Sergeant, and you guys figured now was the time to start a Polar Bear Club?"

Stackhouse paled.

"Look, get your buddies, get reacquainted with your clothes and do something useful,' Sheppard said. "Tell Ronon to get his ass back to Teyla and Simpson and make sure they're okay, and I want you and Doctor Parrish to go find Keller, make sure she's okay, and restrain her. Under no circumstances is she to treat anyone else. You got it?"

Stackhouse nodded. With a salute, he ran in the direction of the others.

Rodney sighed and turned back to the stairs. "Once again, there's a frat party going on, and I wasn't invited."

2258 hrs

"We're almost there," Rodney panted as they forced the security door. This one had been harder to open than most of the others because it was the main controlled door in this section of the city. All they had to do was go up four flights of stairs now, and they were there.

Sheppard discarded his no-longer-functioning flashlight and took out one of the potatoes Rodney had given him.

"You know," Rodney continued, turning his theory over in his mind. "Maybe Zelenka's also responsible for all the power outages. If he was in the control room, he could have done it all. Turned off the lights, blocked the radios, cut power to all the non-essential systems."

He was talking mostly to cover the silence that had settled between them. They'd been traveling hard and fast this last hour and had kept to as few words as possible; but now Rodney couldn't help but think that maybe Sheppard's head had really started to clear, and that he was regretting everything.

Sheppard tossed him a look over his shoulder. "Why would Zelenka try to kill us?"

"Beats me. Maybe he's suddenly developed a plan to take over the city for his own evil purposes?"

Sheppard laughed as they started climbing the stairs. "Well then, I wonder what he's going to do with us. Keep us as slaves, or just kill us?"

"I'll go with the slaves. Radek's a bit of a pacifist but I think he'd go for some free labor. Have someone to fan him while he steals all my brilliant ideas and someone else to massage his feet..."

"I volunteer for the fanning. I'm not massaging anyone's feet but my own."

"What if he makes you wear nothing but a fig leaf?" Rodney said randomly, pulling out the life-sign detector to see if he could get any readings, but the screen was still completely blank.

"Then I won't fan too hard, because I'll be cold."

Rodney couldn't help laughing at the mental image. When they reached a platform between stairwells, he leaned on the railing in the light from Sheppard's potato.

Sheppard sat down on a step and rubbed his head. Silence settled between them again.

"If you want to use the 'drugged excuse', I'll understand." The words tumbled from Rodney's mouth before he could stop them.

Sheppard looked up at him, his eyebrows twisted in confusion. "What?"

Rodney fiddled with the life-sign detector, not really wanting to meet Sheppard's eyes. "You know, if you regret what happened. We can just go back to the way things were between us. I'd rather that then have you avoid me when this is all over."

Sheppard got back up again and moved towards Rodney, walked right into his personal space, taking the equipment out of his hands and placing it gently on the floor. "I don't regret what happened. I promise. I'm just tired, that's all. It feels like something's draining all my energy."

Rodney nodded, skeptically.

"You don't believe me?" John asked, obviously reading Rodney's face.

"Well, it seems a little odd for you of all people to suddenly want me."

"Odd for me? Why?"

Rodney looked at him disbelieving. "You're John Sheppard. You win the hearts of Ancient goddesses, princesses, leaders of villages, and heads of government. You can have anyone in this city, you're leader of the military here, why would you choose me?"

"Because you're a guy?" John asked.

Rodney nodded. "Among other things."

With a sigh, John settled a little closer, pinning Rodney lightly to the wall. "The reason my marriage only lasted six months? My ex-wife caught me kissing another guy."

John's proximity muddled Rodney's brain, but his mouth apparently still knew how to keep flapping. "Really?" he said, and winced.

John winced back. "Yeah. She didn't say anything, knowing it would ruin my career. She was nice and a lot more decent than I deserved. After that, I learned to be discreet or just not indulge at all. For some reason, these last few years, I've been busy enough that it didn't matter anyway."

"And now?" Rodney asked because he had to know.

John shrugged. "Maybe it was Keller's drugs, or whatever is doing this to us. But the thing you need to understand," John said, grabbing Rodney's arm before Rodney could twist away, "Is not that I'm doing something I don't want to do. It's something I would never have let myself do, before. There's a difference."

Rodney looked into John's eyes and they were clear and focused, especially as he leaned forward and kissed Rodney again, and this time the kiss felt like a warm, soft day. It was slow and leisurely, completely opposite to the first one they'd shared an hour ago with its uncertainty, or the ones that followed, full of need and desperation.

Rodney moaned and hit his head against the wall behind him. John leaned into him until their bodies were pressed completely together.

"I'll happily fuck you against the wall," John murmured into his ear. He rubbed his erection against Rodney's hip.

Rodney pressed back, suddenly desperate for one more chance to enjoy this insanity, because really, how much longer could it last—when the thought of the current time flashed in his head like a red warning sign even his libido couldn't ignore.

"J...John—" Rodney stuttered, trying to push him away, but not very hard.

John nibbled at his ear, and started grinding up against him, making all the blood rush to Rodney's dick. "I like it when you use my name," John whispered, and suddenly that was all Rodney wanted to do.

He wanted to stand there muttering John, John, John, John; wanted to say his name until John came in his pants from just hearing it, because Rodney was suddenly very sure that he would. From the look on John's face, Rodney could make him come without even touching him, and the thrill of the idea alone almost pushed Rodney to orgasm right there.

At that moment, just as Rodney was about to give in wholly to whatever John wanted, even if it damned them all to hell and back forever, a chill began to fill the room. The cold started against the wall, where Rodney felt it first, against his back and neck, and it slowly moved into the room from there, seeping into the air and chilling his lungs.

"John?" Rodney said. John moved away, staring wildly around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was around them.

John shook his head. "There's nothing here!" he shouted in frustration.

"I think we should go. Now!" Rodney said. John took one more look around and then went for the stairway at a run.

Rodney found a sudden reserve of energy that let him take the stairs, two at a time.

2323 hrs

John reached the ZPM room first, at the top level of the spire, with Rodney directly on his heels.

"This is a bit of déjà vu," John said, waving his potato around as they bounded down the auxiliary corridor, left and then right, through the dark halls.

"What do you mean?" Rodney asked, listening. He checked the map again. Of course he knew how to get there, but things always looked so much different in the dark.

John led him through another corridor in front of the last door that separated them from the ZPM. "I mean, Ronon and I did this just this morning, except it was on a different Atlantis, remember?"

A wave of memory came back to him. Rodney nodded. "Of course. With Elizabeth's help."

"Right," John said, putting the potato back in the strap he'd jimmy-rigged with some of the used paracord. He pressed up against the door and ducked down, letting Rodney get behind him to work on the doors from the top.

These opened more easily, making them fall forward as they gave way. A bright flashlight beam hit them as they stepped inside.

"Rodney! Colonel!" It was Zelenka. He flung down the flashlight and ran toward them, waving a screw driver.

While Rodney blinked the spots out of his eyes, John tackled Zelenka, disarmed him, and pushed him up against the wall. "Hurry, Rodney."

Rodney plugged his laptop into the console and got a charge warning. He clicked IGNORE and forced the interface with the control panel.

The laptop gave a shrill beep and turned off.

"Shit!"

"Can you tell me what's going on?" John shouted, over Zelenka's cries of protest.

"Barely. All I got is that there's a program set to run in thirty-three minutes. It turns off the ZPM."

"That'll turn off the shield as well," John said, renewing his grip around Zelenka's chest.

Rodney nodded. "I know."

"So turn it off."

Rodney threw his useless computer on the floor. "I can't! In case you misunderstood what the beep of doom meant, my laptop is dead."

"So open up that control panel and do it by hand," John said.

Zelenka still struggling, began shouting things at them. "No! You can't! Listen to me! We need to turn off the ZPM at precisely midnight!"

"That's going to lower the shield and expose the city to space!" Rodney shouted back.

"Look, don't talk to him," John said, forcing Zelenka further away. "Just pull whatever circuits you need to so that the program won't run."

Rodney picked up the screwdriver Zelenka had dropped and opened the access panel. Assessing the circuits that still had some power running to them, he began pulling out crystals.

"No!" Zelenka screamed. "You're going to kill us all."

A spark jumped across the control panel as Rodney bridged two components, creating a short and frying the entire thing. Several systems that had been glowing suddenly stopped, and Rodney slumped down on the floor. "There. I did it. I blew the switching circuit so that when the program tries to run, it won't be able to do anything because the control panel is fried."

John relaxed his grip and Zelenka fell to the floor, holding his head in his hands. "Hours of work, and you ruined it."

"Yeah well, sorry," Rodney said. "I guess you won't be able to kill us all today. Better luck next time."

Zelenka looked up at him with shock. "You're crazy, aren't you? The entity has messed with your minds. You're both just as crazy as Peterson was in the end. Why would I be trying to kill us?"

Rodney shrugged. "Why was Keller trying to put everyone to sleep? Why was Ronon running naked through the halls? I think something's been messing with all our minds."

Zelenka looked at his watch and then at the destroyed panel. "Rodney, do you even know what's out there?"

"No. Because someone," he said, pointedly, "tampered with the sensors. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Zelenka nodded. "Yes, yes. I did that. We couldn't afford to give the creature anything more to feed off of. The shield was bad enough. That's why I turned off the lights as well."

"Ah-a!" Rodney said. "I was right. And the radios?"

"No," Zelenka shook his head. "That's the interference from the creature. Those would have been useful to leave on."

John stood off to the side looking at them both with his arms crossed over his chest. "What creature are you talking about? There was nothing outside, not even stars."

"That's because we are inside it," said Zelenka. "This creature is similar to the one we found the first week in Atlantis, the Energy Creature that the Ancients were studying. Except this one is the size of a small solar system. It's so big, it managed to pull us right out of hyperspace."

Coldness began to permeate the room. Zelenka ran to the doors. "Hurry, we must close the doors. If the fog gets in, it can drain the ZPM before Simpson has a chance to launch the jumper. Hurry!"

Suddenly, it all made sense. All the batteries draining, the constant exhaustion, the chill that followed the fog. "I think he's right," Rodney said. Between the three of them they got the room sealed before more than a few tendrils of fog had penetrated.

Zelenka checked his watch. "We have fifteen minutes. At precisely midnight, Simpson is to launch a jumper with the containment device inside. Now our problem is ZPM must be disconnected for plan to work. The energy signature that is meant to attract the creature, is swamped by our shields and the ZPM."

"But that'll kill us all. Half the city is broken and will be directly exposed to vacuum. Including the control room," Rodney said.

Zelenka nodded. "That's why I asked Doctor Brown and anyone else I saw to keep people away from the outside corridors, especially the control room. Miller and Hansen were to get everyone out, then meet Simpson and help her with the jumper."

Rodney rubbed his face. "Well, I hope she's been practicing on her own, because Hansen's in the infirmary and Miller's having a nap. Teyla's with her though."

"Teyla has never flown a jumper," Zelenka replied, his face pale.

"No, but she's sat in the front seat enough to know what it's supposed to look like," John said. "We're going to have to trust them to do their jobs. Can't we just unplug the ZPM?"

"No." Rodney groaned, remembering what he'd seen in B3. "This program was set to over-pressurize the city, to provide some kind of protection before the shield goes down."

"The shield only needs to be down for a few seconds. Enough time for the creature to detect the energy signature of the containment device, which will be easily accessible in the back of the jumper. As soon as it tries to consume the energy, it will be sucked into the trap."

"And we can't manage that level of control by hand. It takes at least twenty seconds for the ZPM to disengage, and another half-minute to reengage after it comes up. A minute is too long. People inside the core of the city will have some protection, but there's a lot of damage. Not to mention that we left a lot of doors open in our trek today." Rodney eyed the burnt-out crystals in the control panel. "We have to fix the circuit so it can run the program."

John followed Rodney to the access panel and looked in. "I thought you said that trick was a pain in the ass to fix?"

2347 hrs

"Radek, pull open that panel from the other ZPM console, maybe we can find a replacement for this crystal there."

"Already on it," Zelenka shouted from across the room.

"Why don't you just put the ZPM in the other console?" John asked.

Rodney poked his head out from underneath the system he was working on. "Because then I'll turn off the shield and there will be no containment device to distract the creature. I imagine the shield is the only thing that's kept the creature from sucking us dry."

"Here's the crystal," Zelenka said, bringing it over and handing Rodney some spare wiring as well.

"Fine, fine," Rodney said, sliding back under the console. "Come here and hold this. We're going to have to bridge this section here with a temporary circuit so I can remove power from the damaged one and redirect it to the new crystal once it's in place."

Zelenka crawled down next to him and started stripping wire with his teeth.

"Anything I can do?" Sheppard asked.

Rodney spared him half a glance. "Yeah. Stop talking."

2353 hrs

"Rodney? We've only got seven minutes," Sheppard said.

"I know."

"Okay, just saying. Our lives are totally in your hands."

Rodney grabbed the makeshift bridge Zelenka had prepared. "Not helping!"

2356 hrs

The scrape of metal on metal stopped Rodney in the middle of rewiring the secondary switch. He poked his head out from underneath the console. There, standing in the middle of hexagonal room was Chuck. The gateroom technician.

He was wearing his t-shirt and a pair of boxers, and holding a fireman's axe.

"The hell?" Rodney said, mostly in disbelief. He couldn't be sure, with the way the lights cast shadows around the room, but there was the distinct possibility, that Chuck was wearing lipstick.

Sheppard waved Rodney back to work, and Rodney tried really hard not to listen to Chuck telling Sheppard that he'd always wanted to be a fireman.

2359 hrs

Rodney slid out from underneath the panel as Zelenka tried to power it up. The lights lit up; their patch job held. Chuck was gone, presumably to fight a fire or find a pair of pants.

Rodney brought up the Ancient screen and watched the pretty lights flow from left to right. He knew enough by now that he could sort of understand what they said, without the Ancient-to-English interface. The flow of lights indicated a general level of power distribution, which in this case showed that most of it was being used by the shields, with Environmental Controls taking a small percent. Everything else registered as close to zero, which made the flow less like a gradient and more like a solid line. The important thing, though, was the Ancient symbol in the upper right hand corner that told him Zelenka's program was uploaded and running, counting down the seconds left to midnight.

Zelenka had a smug look on his face. "It works."

"We'll see," Rodney said, not willing to get his hopes up just yet. There were still thirty seconds left.

Zelenka rolled his eyes, picked up something from the corner of the room, and passed it to Rodney.

Rodney looked down at the hockey stick in his hands and then back up at Zelenka with what he hoped was an appropriately disbelieving face. "Not you too, Radek. Not you too."

"That's for later. After you have sung my praises for saving the day, then I will wipe the rink with your ice skates. You and your NHL teams are nothing. I'll show you some real hockey."

Before Rodney could respond, a tendril of black smoke wound its way around his head. His entire body felt the chill. The clock on the screen said there was only a few seconds left...

A feeling of euphoria drifted over him. He sank to his knees.

"Rodney, quick. Give me your potato," said John's voice from a million miles away. Rodney settled onto the floor, his eyes open but blind. He thought of how sweet John's kisses had been, and really, as far as last thoughts went, maybe that one was pretty damn good.

0100 hrs

Rodney opened his eyes to an incredibly bright light shining directly into them. "Ow, ow, stop it. Bright light, I know. Follow the light. But why the hell does it have to be so bright?"

If this was the afterlife, Rodney thought morosely, there was a disappointing lack of angels. He was never trusting John Sheppard with anything again.

Someone laughed and the light moved away, and Rodney saw that he was in the infirmary. Doctor Biro patted him on the shoulder. At least she looked fully clothed now. "He's just fine," she said to someone he couldn't see because of the spots floating in his eyes. "He'll probably be happy and tired for the next few days but as far as after-effects go, I suppose these aren't so bad."

There was lots of noise in the infirmary now, and lights, lots of overhead lights. Rodney turned his head and saw John, Ronon and Teyla standing next to his bed.

"Hey buddy, you gave us a bit of a scare there," John said, with a smile. Teyla leaned forward and lay her hand against his shoulder. And though it warmed him, Rodney couldn't help but wish John would touch him as well. He suddenly seemed so far away with all the other people around.

His head hurt. "What happened? Did we get the creature?"

Ronon gave him a congratulatory punch in the arm that Rodney was pretty sure was going to leave a bruise. "You did it. Simpson and Teyla got the jumper flying remotely and you and Zelenka got the shield dropped in time."

"Yeah, but a piece of the fog got you at the end, knocked you out cold," John explained. He'd moved slightly closer, but there was still space between them.

"Many people were affected by the fog, or the proximity to the creature as a whole," Teyla said. "Doctor Biro and Colonel Carter believe that it was stealing our energy a little at a time, leaving us weakened."

"It made us happy," John explained. "You know, it takes fewer muscles to frown than it does to smile."

"Made me hungry," Ronon added.

Rodney nodded. "Figures. Like the Matrix, but with less PVC."

Teyla shot him a puzzled look.

"Ronon and I should go," Teyla said, when Rodney decided it was easier not to explain. "We stopped by to make sure you were well. Colonel Carter asked us to find people still affected throughout the city and bring them here."

"Yeah, we're actually off to do some real work," Ronon said with a smile.

"But—" Rodney said, to defend himself but they wandered off. "We did work. We almost saved Atlantis..."

John picked up a chair and moved it closer. "Sorta. Except for the part where we almost killed everyone, too. Good thing Zelenka had it all under control. Apparently it was all his plan."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "What I don't understand, though, is how he managed to keep a clear head through all this."

John raised an eyebrow and looked over at the hockey stick propped up against the wall.

"Okay, well a mostly clear head."

John laughed. "Well, we think it was the thought of finally beating you to something that drove him. He's the big hero, for once. Apparently, your ego can drive people to great lengths."

"Well, of course it can. I know how to motivate my team; help them be the best that they can be," Rodney said smugly, enjoying John's proximity.

"That's the old US Army slogan."

"Well, whatever works," Rodney said, and John casually slipped his hand under the covers until it found Rodney's.

Rodney let his worries slip away and enjoyed the moment, for once. They were alive and well for the moment. "It's kind of depressing, but even when it's making us happy the Pegasus Galaxy is still trying to kill us. It just figures."

John crinkled his eyes when he smiled. "If it makes you feel better, I promise things won't be always be happy between us. It's not going to be easy."

"So there's still an us?" Rodney asked, careful not to get his hopes up.

John squeezed his hand. "I'd like that. It's just...you'll have to be patient with me."

With a smile, Rodney settled into the bed. There were far too many people about to do anything crazy like kiss him, but he wished he could. "I could learn to do that."

After a few minutes, Rodney's stomach grumbled loudly, breaking the moment.

"I'm going to go find us some food," Sheppard said, getting up. "I heard the mess is in full swing since no one's eaten in twelve hours."

"Mmm. That's a wonderful idea," Rodney said in anticipation. "I can't wait. I want a big steak, with mashed potatoes and gravy—wait. Never mind. Let's hold off on the potatoes for a little while. Maybe some blue jello and chocolate pudding, though."

~fin