Chapter Text
The first thing Rodney remembers is saving the city by finishing a program he doesn't remember writing to expose the city to a cure for the mass amnesia. He remembers Teyla and the soldiers and that he wants somebody to be safe. He doesn't remember his name—except from the recording he'd left himself—or his childhood, or his parents. Teyla says it'll take time, so he takes a seat on the stool he woke up on and waits, hoping the genius she says he has comes back so he doesn't feel quite so lost.
The dreadlocked man stops by to glare at him, and Rodney shifts uncomfortably at the almost threatening nod the man offers before vanishing again. Communication is still down, but he knows—remembers? No, Teyla told him—that people were dying. She went to the infirmary, to check on the patients, that was it. The small guy with the glasses, he was gone when he woke up, but the blond woman, she went with Teyla.
He still doesn't remember their names. He lifts his jacket sleeves instinctively, but all he finds are black smudges and incomprehensible symbols. He must have been sweating while he slept, and that plus the jacket ruined everything. Names, numbers…did he ever get names? He's not sure. No, no, he decides after a minute, he didn't. They were strangers, strangers that trusted him, trusted in him. And he saved them. Somehow.
Another stranger shows up, this one with messy hair and slightly tanned skin and a tense slouch. He doesn't say anything, just half-sits on the edge of a table, arms crossed, looking at nothing. There's a temptation to ask him who he is and what he's doing, but for all Rodney knows this is the guy's lab. And it's comforting to not be alone, to have someone here to confirm that he's not losing his mind.
It's when he starts feeling sleepy that he realizes he and the guy have been sitting there staring into the air for hours, and nothing's changed. There's been no rush of knowledge, or recognition of the computer systems, or even an inkling of who his silent friend is. He himself is a patient guy, but judging by the jiggling leg of bed-head man, that doesn't apply to everyone.
Then the soldier who was rounding everyone up to lock away in the mess appears. He's still got that hand weapon, the one that man in the glasses refused to give up, and Rodney can just make out a bottle of pills in one pocket, but he looks a little calmer than earlier. His eyes are still narrow and intense and he's scowling, but nonetheless, calmer. "Come on, staff meeting and the giant says you're senior staff." He turns and blinks at the stranger. "Colonel," he digs out a picture real quick, "Colonel Sheppard," he tucks it back away, "ready to take command?"
"Sure." The voice has a drawl, but its tone is unsure, angry. He fully stands, and Rodney walks over to stand just out of arms reach of the pill-happy soldier. "I'm sure you'll understand if we need to follow you."
"Yes, sir." The guy barrels his way into the lab to grab something from the table, and Rodney instinctively grabs the object the man slams into his chest. "Only laptop unlocked. Don't lose it."
"Right, right, yes. No problem." Rodney exchanges a quick look with the stranger—Colonel Sheppard, identity, even if it's not his own—and follows the swift-footed military officer. "So you're in charge?"
"Apparently." The guy, Sheppard, grimaces, lowering his voice. "According to the Major's picture, at least. I don't remember. And I certainly don't feel authoritative."
Rodney simply nods, automatically speaking softer in deference to the Colonel's volume. "The woman, Teyla, says I'm head of science, and a genius." And he's not sure if that makes him a not-good person, which would explain the shorter soldier's attitude towards him. "I don't feel that smart." Though maybe a bit authoritative. He was able to organize the breakout pretty well, and everyone listened to him.
"Didn't you save everyone?"
"Sort of." Most of the work was done before he'd lost his memories. "I don't remember you."
"I was on the mainland getting the cure." Sheppard smirks slightly. "And I flew the ship."
"You remembered how to fly?"
The guy shrugs a shoulder. "I just knew. Instinct." He stays silent as they climb some stairs. The soldier's not even breathing hard, but Rodney's heaving, a little. "So do you remember anything?"
Rodney tosses a look at their guide. "No, you?"
"No." His eyes become shadowed at the admission.
"No one's remembering," their guide says tersely, turning at a bronze door leading into an enclosed room. "That's why we're here." He jerks his arm towards the door, and Rodney can see he's resisting the urge to use his weapon as a directional tool.
The Colonel moves as if to shield Rodney from the gun, but freezes once they're in the room. Rodney feels everyone's eyes on the three of them; some on him, but most on the soldier by the door.
Teyla is standing and smiling reassuringly, a hand on the arm of the blonde wearing a black shirt. The dreadlocked guy is in another corner, looming and glaring at all three of them. It's unnerving, but Rodney shoves down the urge to backpedal. They said he belongs here, and he won't let anyone intimidate him into thinking otherwise. There's another blonde, much younger, with a pony-tail and yellow panels on her unzipped jacket.
He has a vague recollection of her, from when they were locked up by the soldiers. She was one of the first to follow him in the idea to escape. He still doesn't remember their names but he feels drawn to them, secure. He can trust them. He moves towards them, but a sharp look from the giant has him stopping halfway. Instead, he ends up at the middle of one of the table sides and just stands there, clutching the computer to his chest.
"I can't find the other guy. Scruffy, with glasses," drug soldier finally says.
"Radek," Teyla comments. "I'm sure Rodney would be more than happy to catch him up."
"Sure." Rodney meets Teyla's smile with a small one of his own. "Who is he?" The happiness slips from Teyla's face, and he feels like a heel for that.
"Perhaps we should sit down and get to know each other," the black-shirted woman says, taking a seat on the far edge of the table. "Teyla," she glances questioningly at the woman, who nods subtly, "can tell us who we all are."
The other blonde sits beside her. "That would be good." There's relief in her voice. "I'm getting a headache referring to all of you as Laptop Guy, Gun Guy, and Black Shirt Girl." She doesn't smile, but she half-laughs.
The short soldier reluctantly places his weapon on the table and sits across from the two women, ignoring the attempt at humor and glowering at everybody. Sheppard slouches into a chair away from him, while the dreadlocked man remains standing and Teyla takes the seat next to the one Rodney slides down into. "I believe that's a very wise idea, Sam."
Rodney notes that everyone turns their head to intensely focus on the black shirted blonde—the yellow-coat woman even mouthing the name—in an effort to remember, retain, recall an identity. "You are Colonel Samantha Carter. You are the head of this expedition."
Samantha nods, eyes locked on the table. "Right. So, I'm in charge?"
"Of the city, yes." Teyla smiles, and then turns her head to the left. "You are Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. You're in charge of the soldiers, and of a Gate team."
Colonel—John; John sounds right in Rodney's mind—shifts uncomfortably in his chair, not making eye contact with anyone. He can just make out a fist under the table, clenched and shaking. Rodney can't tell if it's from frustration of not remembering, or of not liking all the attention on him. He decides to rescue the guy. "What's a Gate team?"
Teyla hesitates. "Perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up. It will take a while to explain-"
"So explain." The soldier crosses his arms and glares at Teyla. "We're just taking your word that you and he," his glare shifts to the giant, "are our allies."
"I came back with Sheppard. Sheppard's your commanding officer."
That, Rodney notes, seems to bring a change over the soldier's face. A moment of blankness, then a grimace, as if some sort of inner turmoil just poked a nerve. He turns towards John. "You know him," he jerks a chin to the giant.
John glances at the soldier before shrugging. "Says we're best friends. And that he's under my command." That seems to quell the soldier, for now. Rodney makes a mental note to keep an eye on him, and then starts feeling for a pen to write it down so he can remember to keep an eye on the soldier. Teyla stops him after a minute with a gentle pat on his arm, though her attention is on the soldier.
"I understand your concern, Major, but this is not…quite the situation we expected."
"What were you expecting?" That question comes from the other blonde, the one in yellow.
"The enchuri plant helps to cure Kirsan fever. Once distributed, we assumed you'd get your memories back." The Major lets out a hostile breath. It's not quite a snort, but it's close. Rodney's attention is turned to Teyla, though, when she gestures to him. "Rodney theorized the Ancients brought the bacteria millennia ago, but without any contact with the rest of the galaxy, it mutated into this disease." She shoots a glance at Ronon. "We were not expecting the enchuri to…fail."
"It hasn't though," Samantha says. "You said people were dying, going to die, without the cure." And oh, how Rodney is very, very glad he'd forgotten that detail. "But they aren't. People fell asleep and got better. No one's dying anymore."
"No one's remembering anything, either." The Major put his hands onto the table. "We can't trust-"
"Can it, Major." Everyone stares at John. The outburst wasn't loud, but it was definitely firm. "I trust them. Without…" he opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, then simply points.
"Ronon."
"Right. Without Ronon I'd still be stuck in that dark forest. I didn't even know I could fly that ship. He could've told me to go anywhere. We came back to save everyone."
"Fine, but she attacked me," the Major shoots back, pointing at Teyla.
"Because you did not remember that I was not infected. You were acting irrationally."
"I was under orders-"
"What're we going to do," the blond pipes up again, interrupting the argument. She shrinks a little under everyone's gaze. "I mean, I still don't know who half of you are-"
Teyla takes a deep breath, but it's Ronon who continues, pointing at each person. "Major Evan Lorne. Doctor Rodney McKay. Teyla Emmagan. Doctor Jennifer Keller." He points a thumb to himself. "Ronon Dex."
The blonde—Jennifer, Rodney reminds himself, and starts repeating everyone's names in his head—blinks a few times. "Oh. What, what am I a doctor of?"
"You are the ranking medical officer on base." Teyla's explanation doesn't seem to ease Jennifer's discomfort. "I know you do not remember, but all of you are passionate in your fields. Rodney, you remember how to use a computer still, yes?"
"Well, I…" he pulls the computer away from his chest and stares at it. It still has a picture of Teyla, telling him to find her. He focuses and thinks and tries to get some tidbit of knowledge. After a minute of silence, he hits the power button. "I can turn them on and off." This close he can see Teyla's neck tense at the admission, and wonders if they're really in more trouble than she's making it seem.
If it came down to it, could Teyla and…Ronon? Yes, Ronon. Could they run the city, without everyone else?
Samantha finally put her hands on the table. "Has anyone reported remembering anything?"
The Major—Evan shakes his head. "I've had my soldiers ask everyone in the mess hall. No one's remembering anything."
"Of course they wouldn't tell you! They're terrified of you!" Jennifer blushes at her outburst. "I mean-"
Teyla takes a deep breath. "What Doctor Keller is trying to say-"
"Hey, were we trying to contain-"
Rodney glances to John, who's scooted his chair towards the corner of the table, closer to him. The man's fist isn't clenched anymore, but he still isn't looking at anyone. Maybe he blames himself, Rodney thinks, for Evan's behavior, the treatment of everyone not in the special round-up team.
On the other side of the table, Samantha is trying to defend Jennifer. She was one of the ones locked up, knows how frightened everyone was, how frightened she was. Teyla isn't being heard over Evan's yelling, and the big guy has a hand on his weapon.
Before he can think about it, he knocks his chair back while standing. The clatter shuts everyone up, gets all their eyes on him. He opens his mouth but doesn't, for the life of him, know what to say. He was a genius, and he's sure before this whole amnesia thing he'd have something inspiring and motivational and…something, but now he just…he doesn't want things to degenerate.
"Rodney…?" Teyla places her hand over his own resting on the table.
He jerks it away, and stares at the room as a whole, waiting as first Jennifer, then Samantha, and reluctantly Evan settle back in their seats. John, he notes, has looked up from the floor and is watching him with fierce intensity. Finally, finally, he takes a breath. "No one's got their memory back." Silence answers him. "We need to figure out what to do now."
With that he sits back down and waits. He's not in charge. Samantha's in charge. He's not going to step on anyone's toes. Well, maybe Evan's, a little.
It's Evan who breaks the silence. "We need to keep everyone contained." There's strain in his voice, but Rodney can tell he's trying to control his temper. "I know you didn't like it, but there could be dangers in the city. We could be dangerous to the city. We can't let people roam free."
"Except your soldiers, of course." Jennifer's sarcasm comes as a bit of a shock, but then, Evan had shot her during the escape attempt. Rodney hadn't even considered what the soldiers would do in retaliation, what they would do to prevent another breakout.
Rodney meets Samantha's eyes, tries to encourage her. He already knows Teyla will try to make peace. Evan won't accept that. Samantha's in charge. John's in charge. They have to stand up, take responsibility, take action.
Some of what he's trying to silently convey must reach her, because she clears her throat. "The soldiers aren't exactly safe at the moment, either." Evan scowls, but doesn't say anything. "We can't just lock up everyone and not get another riot. But if your soldiers were…also confined, maybe."
"So who keeps the order? Who'll stop people from wandering the halls?"
"Well, we can make a general announcement, or maybe talk to people," Samantha looks to Rodney, "they listened to you once, maybe they will again."
Rodney considers it, but he can't really endorse locking anyone in the mess hall again, let alone with the very soldiers that locked them up before. It just wouldn't end well. He waits a few minutes, then, slowly, "We live in this city, right?"
"Yes, Rodney." Teyla frowns a little, but nods encouragingly. "You have lived here for almost four years."
"So we have homes. Rooms, something, right?"
The frown melts away as she smiles. "Yes. An excellent idea. Perhaps familiar surroundings will encourage you to regain your memories."
Evan leans forward. "And we could ask people not to leave their rooms." At Jennifer's sour look, he ducks his head. "For a couple days, to see if it helps."
"And food? People still have to eat." The bite in Jennifer's tone is missing. Rodney wonders if she's only snappy because of Evan, because he remembers a vocal, but less sarcastic woman in the mess hall. At least, he's pretty sure that was her. It's still a little blurry.
Samantha, though, begins nodding, and points to Rodney. "Signs. You were going to mark something, to show where we'd gone. We can do that. Make signs telling people how to get to the mess hall. There's plenty of prepared food."
"Great," John finally says, sitting up straighter as he scoots his chair towards the table. "Does anyone know where people live?"
Silence greets the question, and Rodney is tempted to reach over and slap the man upside the head. It wasn't the best plan, but it didn't call for such a cold dose of reality so soon. Samantha casts her eyes down and Jennifer is now scowling at John. Teyla looks like she wants to say something, but is holding back, probably in deference to Evan's suspicions.
It's the mostly-silent Ronon that answers the question, in the end. "How'd you guys know Sheppard and I returned?"
Evan points a thumb over his shoulder. "The control room. Someone left instructions on sensors, a shield, and…" His brow furrows in concentration. "Some other things, I don't remember them all." Then he jerks up. "Quarter assignations would be in the computer!"
Ronon smirks and Rodney wonders just how much the man knows about their systems, and whether Evan's fears are justified. Except Teyla trusts Ronon, and above all else, he knows he can trust in Teyla. He'd recorded as much to himself before the amnesia struck. He's just letting Evan's paranoia get to him. It's a tense situation, but he can't let his emotions blind him. He's a scientist. He has to be the voice of reason, the objective calm above all else.
There's some excitement in the atmosphere as Evan scoots away from the table to talk into a communications device. Rodney frowns, but waits before popping the happy bubble they've slipped into. The instant the Major is back at the table, Rodney knocks his knuckles on the table and waits for the group's focus. "We need to set some rules, too."
Jennifer nods emphatically. "Like soldiers not shooting unarmed, willing civilians."
Evan narrows his eyes, but Rodney slams his hand down before anything else is said. He waits a beat. "We need some rules."
"Like what?" Samantha asks. Teyla and Ronon, Rodney notes, have shifted themselves away from the table, trying to let them work things out. Or maybe trying to deal with the current situation, since they'll have their own issues to face if no one else remembers things.
Rodney was hoping Samantha would pick up the thread, but maybe she naturally defers to him. She was the first person to follow his lead, to garner even more support for the riot. Maybe he's her idea man. He can run with that, at least behind closed doors. They'll need to present a unified front to the people of the expedition, to try to present a sense of normalcy.
So he points to Evan. "Your radios. How many are there?"
Evan shifts in his seat and glances to John. The Colonel says and indicates nothing, so the Major purses his lips. "We found a number just lying around in hallways. In total, we probably have a few hundred."
"Enough for everyone in this room, if not everyone in the city?" There's a reluctant nod. "Then your first order is to get us some radios, then distribute the rest to everyone else you can find."
This time Evan's tone is mutinous. "I don't take orders from you."
"Major," John says, "do what he says."
"Sir-"
"You follow my orders, right?" This time the nod is immediate. "Well, I'm ordering you to follow him."
"Follow him," Evan deadpans, "and Ronon."
"Sure." John sounds a little nonchalant about giving up his direct command, but from the way his shoulders relax, Rodney wonders if John was ever really meant to be in charge of the military contingent, or if it had been thrust upon him. "And," John adds, "whomever they think you need to follow until we get our memories back."
Evan is tense, and for a moment Rodney's sure the weapon on the table is going to be used on John, but then Evan shuts his eyes and nods, even saluting John a minute later. "Fine." He turns back to Rodney. "Anything else?"
"Are there other weapons? Things that don't stun?"
"No." Obviously, Rodney's not the only one suspicious of that answer. "But," Evan continues, "there are a lot of rooms locked-down that we can't get into."
"If we were losing our memories, maybe we locked all the really dangerous stuff behind closed doors." Samantha looks around the table. "It makes sense."
Rodney has to nod. It'd be too dangerous to have even something as simple as a bladed weapon without people who remembered their medical training around. "When we get the room assignments, send your men to do brief checks. Don't disturb anything, but…the last thing we want is someone scared enough to use a non-stunning weapon." He glances to Samantha and, though frowning, she is nodding.
Evan nods once. "Anything else?"
"The seven of us will run the control room for the next few days." Evan tenses at that, but Rodney stares him down. "Samantha runs the city. I run sciences. John's in command of the military. Obviously we coordinated a lot of activities there. Maybe using the systems and working in that room will help us remember. Jennifer," he turns to the woman, "when we find the medical bay, maybe you can go down, try and remember your training. Or find a field book. Something. In case someone gets hurt."
Teyla finally steps forward, touching Rodney's arm in askance. "I noticed Major Lorne taking many stimulants. They were used to slow the process of amnesia, but since the cure I've witnessed him and his soldiers continuing to take the medication. It has…adverse affects if taken in high doses. I believe they are also addictive."
Evan's crossed his arms, coincidently hiding the bottle of pills in his vest pocket. "We need them to remain at peak performance."
John lets out a sigh. "Order your men to stop taking the pills, Major. Give them to Kelly," he frowns at Jennifer's look, "Keller, sorry. She probably gave them to you in the first place."
Rodney feels himself sit a little taller at John's involvement. Maybe he is leader material after all. "Any soldier who refuses will be put in the brig."
"I won't put my men-"
"I will." Despite John's interruption of Evan, his tone is hardly threatening. At Evan's narrow look, he waves across the room. "I'll get him to do it." Ronon crosses his arms, mirroring Evan. "C'mon, Major," there's a hint of wheedling in his voice, "you're supposed to follow orders. And if the pills are bad for you…"
This time Evan does huff, but he stands up and nods tersely. "I'll have them all by the end of the day. Anything else?"
Rodney looks to Samantha, waiting for her to say something, to try and bring some cohesiveness to their obviously fractured leadership group. She's looking at John, examining him, Rodney would say. It's up to him then. He locks eyes with the Major. "We need your help in this." His voice is softer, though he didn't do it consciously. "I hope we can count on you, Major. We all have amnesia, we're all panicked and afraid, but we can do this."
Evan keeps eye contact, and for an instant Rodney could swear everyone is holding their breaths. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nods. Then he's turned and gone from the room, and Rodney realizes that other than Teyla and Ronon, they have no idea where to go, or what to do next.
Fortunately, John is more than willing to break the ice. "So is there some food here we can eat? I don't think we should go to the mess hall yet."
Samantha lets out a little laugh and Ronon wrinkles his nose and Rodney, Rodney decides that maybe, just maybe, they can actually handle this situation.
The control room is deserted except for two soldiers, both of whom must have spoken to Evan, as they relinquish their seats and explain the sensors and shields and point out the other notes taped to various consoles and screens. One soldier is more agitated than the other, but it's quickly explained that while the shields, sensors, and other major city controls have been unlocked, basic things like personnel files and crew assignments are password protected.
Rodney turns to Ronon, who shakes his head. "Don't look at me. You always yell if I touch anything."
Teyla, however, steps forward. "May I?" The soldier is wary, but scoots over. A few keystrokes later, though, the crew manifest and quarter assignments are on the screen.
"Nice work."
She smiles, but it's strained. "Thank you, but it may be wise to focus on remembering your password." Rodney glances around, but no, she is looking at him. "You maintain the systems and files of the city. My password will work for some security files, but yours, Rodney, is the override password for all systems."
"Why were the manifest and room assignments under lock and key anyways?" Samantha looks from the screen to Teyla. "Are we at war?"
"Not at the moment." Rodney's not sure, but he could swear she's holding something back in that comment. "But years ago Colonel Sheppard and Doc—another, no longer with us, were taken over by an alien entity and used the crew in the quarters as hostages. Doctor McKay didn't want something like that to happen again, so he locked down any file that was linked to the habitat systems."
Rodney would like to think that proves he's a good man, but at the moment he's freaking out a little bit at the whole 'alien' thing. He's not entirely sure what an 'alien' is, but from the rate of his heartbeat it's not good. Whatever it was, they got it out of John, or he wouldn't still be in command of the military. They might come back, though. Other aliens might come, too. So he sits in front of the computer and focuses as hard as he can. Password. Password. It'd be important, something for him, something only he and maybe a close friend would know-
As if responding to his thoughts, the red-outlined password screen and fourteen asterisks scroll across. A second later, the full directory of the Atlantis system is open. Research files, personnel, mission reports—something Rodney intends to read in-depth as soon as the more pressing issues are dealt with—everything. "Who did that?"
Everyone looks at each other, except John, who slouches so far down in his seat that his head is almost equal to the top of the chair. Rodney steps over to him and looks at the computer screen. It's an exact mirror of his own, with an open directory and all the files just ready to be looked at. He looks to John, who's gripping Rodney's black marker in one hand. On the back of the other, numbers are written. 16431879196842.
He looks around, but Teyla is showing Samantha the systems and Ronon is pointing out on the city map where the infirmary is. The two soldiers have left, so Rodney lowers his voice and squats beside the Colonel. "How'd you know that?"
John glances at him, offering a half shrug. "Numbers keep coming up in my head. 314159265. 31340. 42. When I saw it took seventeen slots I figured 'what the hell.'" He lifts his hand. "I wrote it down, in case we forgot." He tugs at his jacket, enough for Rodney to see that John's also written his own name on his arm, before tugging the sleeve over his hand. "I guess you trust me." The smile isn't like the one he occasionally gives Ronon. It's shy, uncertain. Like John doesn't know if he's supposed to know Rodney's secret passwords.
Whether he's supposed to or not, though, it's just saved them hours of trying to find a password that, frankly, hadn't been coming to Rodney's own mind. Other things, strange symbols and equations that make no sense, yes. But nothing he can associate with anything else. And maybe this is proving Teyla true. That even though they don't remember, the fundamental parts of who they should be are still in them. They just have to wait, be patient.
He offers John a small smile back, memorizing the number and trying to burn John's face into his memory so that, if they are still forgetting things, it'll be one of the last of his memories to go.
When Evan returns, John is using Rodney's marker on a pile of papers, coloring in big arrows with words like 'This Way To Food' and 'Transporter, Only Use This Button' and 'Please Stay In Your Quarters'. Samantha and he are working on a series of laptops—or tablets, as the transfer button says—and are matching up faces and identities with crew quarters and, with Teyla's help, directions.
Lorne hands Ronon and Jennifer a radio each, and then they're gone. He hands one to everyone else, giving a narrow-eyed look at Rodney after handing one to John, before standing at attention. "I've got half my men ready to search rooms, the other half are handing out radios. They were almost finished when I left."
Samantha looks up from the computer. "We should say something. Let them know what's going on."
Rodney looks at her. "You should. You're the leader." He looks around, then rolls his chair over to the big center console facing the downstairs and the giant round ring, and looks at the laptop. The soldier explained how the communication system worked, but it still takes him a few minutes to find the keys connected to the command. He marvels for a moment at how he could've ever known this system and every other and been able to recall it immediately, like Teyla says.
He rests his finger on the city-wide key and looks back. Samantha seems overwhelmed, but determined, exactly the same look she had when she suggested they follow Evan. Or did glasses guy suggest that? Why were some things so clear from before the cure, and other things not? Probably a result of the…progressive amnesia, Teyla called it. "Ready?" She nods, and he activates the system.
There's a quiet minute of breathing, then, "Hello?" Her voice echoes all around them, around the city. "This is Sam…Colonel Samantha Carter, leader of the," a pause, "Atlantis expedition. I'm sure you're all very scared, and want to know what's going on." A longer, heavier pause. "Due to a disease, a bacteria, we've all contracted amnesia; which means we've lost our memories. It's…it's disorienting, and frightening, but I want you—need you to listen. Myself and Rodney, Rodney McKay—he saved us all from dying—we're trying to help you. Help all of us."
John slides his chair back and forth, head down, and Rodney makes a mental note to remind Samantha that it was John and Ronon who brought the cure, he just executed some program he doesn't even remember writing.
"The communicators the soldiers have given you are for emergencies, or if you get lost. Or if you remember something. Anything." Her voice is a little desperate on that last word, but she regains her composure quickly enough. "Shortly, there'll be soldiers arriving to identify who you are, and lead you to your quarters. I would ask that you remain there, study your surroundings, and see if they help bring back your memories."
Eventually, Rodney and all of them will have to go to their quarters, to sleep. Ronon, and Jennifer, and even Evan. And before that they need to set up a shift to run the control room, and some people to watch after the food, and even a team to catch people who get lost, or don't trust authority of any kind.
"I know this is difficult, and I know none of us feel safe, or comfortable, but we will get through this. Please, retire to your rooms for a few days. Directions will be put up for getting food when you get hungry, but please do not deviate from the signs for your own safety. This is a large city, and we may not be able to reach you if you're hurt. I am…hopeful that soon this will all be over, and we can return to the way things normally are." A rather long pause, then, "Oh, um, Colonel Samantha Carter, goodbye?"
Rodney takes another minute to figure out how to disconnect the city-wide, then silently sighs. It was slightly less inspirational than he'd hoped, but with luck the lure of getting an identity and a room with their own things would be enough to keep the wandering and unrest to a minimum.
"You're gonna have to rest sometime too, Doctor."
Rodney turns to Evan, and while he's pretty sure the man hadn't meant to sound hostile and slightly threatening, it still sounded that way. Teyla and John are tense now, John even capping his pen noisily, but Rodney just shakes his head. "We'll all have need to, Major. But first we have to make sure everything's okay. No fear that they're being herded, no rough treatment from the soldiers. Just…everyone trying to learn who they are again."
Instead of answering, Evan turns to look down at the giant ring and crosses his arms. "Any idea what that is?"
Not really, though he's willing to bet it has something to do with that Gate team thing Teyla mentioned earlier. Instead he rolls his chair down to another console, this one with buttons that match the symbols on the giant circle, and depresses them one by one. Nothing happens. "Broken, I'd guess. Probably by us."
"A weapon, then."
"Or an escape. If this was an isolated disease, we wouldn't want it to spread. Disabling the escape would prevent that."
Evan stares at the ring for another few minutes, then rotates his neck and shoulders. "My men need those identities and maps."
"I'm almost done here," Samantha responds.
"Send one of your soldiers up," Rodney replies, grabbing another tablet and uploading the residence map onto it. "He can take the identity files. We're ordering them in residential blocks, so you can take a group at a time." One of Samantha's ideas, rather brilliant, actually. Teyla smiled when he'd said that out loud. "You should start putting the signs up."
He holds the computer out for Evan, who takes it with a puckered look on his face. "Yes, sir."
Rodney holds back the sigh. "It needs to be done, Major, and frankly, you know the city better than anyone but Teyla. And we need her here to tell us what systems are safe to access, and what ones aren't."
The man's face relaxes, but when he grabs for the signs John's made, John holds onto them an extra minute, giving the Major a laconic look that Rodney can't interpret. When John finally lets go, Evan turns to Rodney. "I understand, sir." He salutes with his fingers crumpling the papers. "I'll report back when I've run out of signs."
"Thank you." He waits until Evan's gone before Rodney looks at John, still turned towards him. "Is there going to be a problem between you two?"
John shakes his head. "Just, you know, reminding him who's in charge." He turns back to the table and starts coloring a new batch of signs, pointedly ignoring the look Teyla is giving him.
Rodney does sigh that time, but then he gets up and grabs two more tablets—one of them the one with Teyla's picture on it—and goes back to work uploading identities and maps. There's hundreds of people on the expedition, and thousands of rooms they're using. It's all got to be sorted out, and he won't be able to take a break until that's done.
It takes the rest of the day and most of the night to get people sorted and escorted to their quarters. It's compounded by the fact that some people that were already identified return to the mess hall to eat and get mixed up with the unidentified. Rodney wants Samantha to make another announcement, but she's asleep over a console, so he does it, telling people to remain in their rooms until everyone knows who they are and an all-clear is given.
By the time Evan returns to report that the mess hall is empty and his soldiers are turning in for the night, Rodney has managed to read not just his profile, but that of everyone who was in the earlier meeting. It's a personal matter, really, but he feels if he is Samantha's second, he should at least know who his closest working companions are. Also, he's pretty sure Evan will do the exact same thing the first chance he gets.
They make for interesting reading, but offer little insight into the people he knows personally. Jennifer's psychiatric profile describes a hard-working woman from the top of her class who has problems being assertive of her feelings and reservations about her capabilities. The Jennifer in the file wouldn't make sarcastic comments at Evan, much less start an argument with him, with anyone.
His own file is even more telling. Cutting, ornery, acerbic know-it-all. Full of himself. An agitator. Snubbing his nose at authority with the undeniable belief that he's always right. Doing what he wants regardless of permission or the safety of people under his command. It's such a direct contrast to what Teyla has told him that he feels like someone punched him inside his brain. If he's such a bad guy, why is he in charge of the science department? Why is he Samantha's trusted advisor? Why isn't he locked away in some cell to be punished?
"There are many who did not want you on this expedition," Teyla suddenly says, taking the tablet away from him. "You should not heed everything you read."
"Why am I in charge when they obviously don't think I can handle it—should handle it?"
"Your qualifications. And you, Rodney, have proven that you have evolved beyond that. Have become more." She rests a hand on his wrist. "Our first week here, you walked into an entity that could kill you with nothing more than a weak shield. You risked your life to save all of ours."
"So this file?"
"There are other files. Your mission reports will give you a better idea of who you are than someone who was envious of you for getting to come to this city."
He nods and shuts his eyes. Maybe instead of releasing profile reports, he should put together the reports people have written, let them find their voice in their own work, and not the voice of other people. Or maybe it won't matter. Who they were only matters if the memories come back. If they don't…if they don't, they have to discover who they are now. He recognizes they need the skills and know-how to run the city and survive, but do they really need to know who they were behaviorally beforehand?
"You have been up for over a day. Perhaps some rest would do you good."
"Maybe you're right." He reaches for the tablet again and looks at his picture. Chest puffed out, chin up, eyes smug. He's wearing a tan jacket with blue panels, looks like a man confident in who he is and where he's going. Someone who probably has his life goals mapped out and is well on his way to completing them.
It's not a conscious decision to turn off the screen. He just does, and stares at the reflection of the new man. Bruised eyes, perpetual frown, slumped shoulders and pale skin. That's who he is now. That's who they all are. No longer posed and perfect and well on their way to great things. They're lost, frightened, even angry. A name and history won't change that, can't change that. A person is formed and defined by their memories, but what if your memories only go back two days? What sort of person are you then?
He carries the tablet with him into the glass office nearby. It's probably Samantha's, some sort of leader's room, but Samantha's gone to look at her quarters and Evan's resting on the stairs and he, he really can't handle going to his room. So he falls back onto the couch and tucks the computer underneath. He puts one hand over his head and the other on his stomach and stares at the ceiling, blinking slowly.
He must have dosed off because when he blinks again, there's light coming through the window, a crick in his back, and John sitting at the desk. Wincing as his neck twinges, he slowly sits up and hears something clatter as his heel hits the floor. John looks up from the screen of the computer at the desk and offers a quirk of the lips before he focuses back to whatever he's doing.
Rodney looks down and finds the tablet, a little dirty, but not broken, so he picks it up. The face in the transparent reflection hasn't changed. He still doesn't remember anything. He lets out a silent sigh. At least he hasn't forgotten anything from yesterday, and that's something to be proud of. Whatever is blocking their old memories isn't blocking the formation of new ones, which means they can actually function without leaving notes for themselves all over the place.
Standing, he walks over to stand beside John and see what he's doing. "A card game?"
"Solitaire," John says proudly. "The instructions are in the help menu. It's not that bad."
"Shouldn't you be going through your profile?" He doesn't remember John looking through it last night. He'd left with the last of his signs, identifying the infirmary, the power room, and some other critical areas. Rodney also got the impression that he missed Ronon's presence, which he could understand. Waking up blank left an easy imprint process. It's why he trusts Teyla so much.
"I got tired of seeing me smirk." There's an edge to the voice, a tensing of the shoulders. On the screen, he moves a red card over the green backdrop to hover over different stacks.
Rodney lets the topic drop, instead looking through the glass tabletop to see a stunner on the man's lap. "Trouble?"
"Just thought I should be prepared. In case of aliens. Or scared people."
Or Evan, Rodney hears. Maybe John, in addition to being head of the military, is also his bodyguard. It would explain the protective stances he keeps taking. "You remember anything?"
"No. No one else does, either. The Colonel released the profile logs to the people, encouraged them to go to breakfast."
Colonel—Samantha, right. Technically she's military, Rodney remembers. "Where is she?"
"She went to the power room. Evan was asking why we can't just cloak the city indefinitely and it's some sort of power problem."
"Does she-"
"She just said she wanted to look." He closes the program and scoots away from the desk, looking up at Rodney. "What do we do now?"
Rodney clutches the tablet a little in his hand. In all honesty, he's not sure. He'd really hoped to remember something by now. "Where's Teyla?"
"She's manning the control room with one of Lorne's soldiers." John turns to nod out the giant window. "She says everyone but Doctor Zelenka's been accounted for."
"Who's that?"
"Some scientist. Scruffy hair, glasses."
Rodney brightens a little. "Oh, I know him." At John's look, he shrugs. "He's good at hiding. The soldiers never found him."
"Huh. Well, she's trying to get the city sensors to work, but someone must've done something because there's damage or it's non-responsive or…I don't know. I couldn't follow."
"I'll take a look at it." This time, John gapes. Rodney does too, a little. "I…don't know why I said that."
"Memory?"
Rodney concentrates, but…no. Nothing. "Instinct," he says, disappointed. John nods, obviously hopeful on his behalf. "Jennifer and Ronon?"
"Doctor Kelly—Keller. Keller," he repeats softly, then goes back to his normal voice. "Keller is reading through first aid. She found the nurses' files and had Ronon get them so they could study together. Try and get some sort of medical expertise."
"Good." He lifts up his tablet and turns it on. His smug face looks back. He pokes at it once with the attached pen, then closes that screen and opens the main directory. "Tell Evan I'm going to need him to bring some people to the main lab. We can't remember, but we can learn, and this city won't run itself." Though it might. It looks pretty fantastic and technological. But even so, they have a large scientist contingent for a reason.
"You don't want to get some breakfast?" John's tone is so full of whine and hurt that Rodney actually has to look up from his brief examination of files to stare at the man. "I mean," John squirms in his chair, "you've been asleep for ten hours. Aren't you hungry?"
And yes, actually, he is. Yesterday Teyla discovered a stash of things called MRE's and they're good enough for him. He still hasn't discovered what every room is for, and there's lots of work to be done, at least things to set in motion so if something explodes they won't be scrambling to the ocean to escape the danger. So, he sets the computer down and jerks his head towards the door. "Come on. I remember where they hide the foodstuffs, and Teyla said there's a balcony on this level. Let's go see what our planet looks like."
John hops out of his chair, easily sliding the stun gun into the waistband of his pants and almost bounces on his feet as he walks beside Rodney. If not bodyguard, Rodney thinks as he waves at Teyla and the unknown soldier, then definitely a friend.
The first few days are hectic, but on the whole aren't so bad considering the situation. Ronon apparently took some cooking courses before, and has taken to teaching the chefs and some of the soldiers how to prepare the raw food in their stores for meals. Teyla spends much of her time in the control room, but even more in Samantha's office, acting as a therapist. Almost everyone on the expedition has come to talk with her, and those that don't go to Ronon, seeking to know who they were before the amnesia.
Samantha spends more time in the labs than in the control room, reviewing the database and technology along with a handful of other scientists. Rodney's tried, but while he aesthetically recognizes the equations and the words evoke schematics in his mind, the underlying principles are missing, preventing him from understanding even the most basic formulas. He wants to spend more time down there, but a civilian needs to be running things upstairs. Samantha smiled when he said that. "I trust you, McKay. I'll work on the power problems and train the scientists. You're better at dealing with the situation anyways."
When he says that to Teyla, she laughs. Briefly. "I apologize. It is just…normally you would rather practice fighting with Ronon than be up here conducting daily operations."
He smiles and laughs a little, but it's a bit of a show. Teyla may still have hopes, but he's seen it in Ronon's eyes, the acceptance and determination to move on. No one's memory has come back, not a one. Some things, Samantha's knowledge of power generators, John with numbers and flying, even Rodney's own sometimes savant skills with the city's mainframe, they're so ingrained that the abilities are there without conscious thought.
No one can name where they were born, or what city they're from. Some still write their own names down, because they're good with knowing how much water plants get and how to fight, but they don't have any confidence in their cognitive or retentive skills.
He thinks that's what's going on with John. The man spends a lot of time in Rodney's periphery, hands in pockets, or clutching the marker pen Rodney never did get back. Sometimes he sees things, numbers, words, written on his hands. He doesn't like to approach, except when Rodney sleeps in Samantha's office, or sometimes when Rodney goes to eat. Other times he vanishes, just vanishes. Rodney's heard from Jennifer that sometimes he hangs out around Ronon, but other times no one sees him for hours.
Zelenka—Radek's another mystery. Rodney's ordered the search for him to stop, but the man still hides. According to Teyla, he knew the layout of the city perhaps even better than Rodney before the amnesia, and that may be what's allowing him to elude the search parties. Rodney knows he's okay, though. Food goes missing from the mess when no one's around. White boards with Samantha's equations have strange comments and new numbers some mornings. Once, Rodney even sees Radek leaving what one of John's signs marks as the Jumper Bay. He doesn't call out, but Radek spots him and waves before walking around the corner and, apparently, disappearing.
Rodney would worry more about it, but he's decided that everyone is adapting to the current situation in their own way. Teyla's reported three scientists and one soldier who've locked themselves in their rooms to deal. Another man by the name of Chuck has decided the floor in front of the big circle is a good place to juggle—apparently the only skill he remembers. One soldier was fine until today when withdrawal pressure from the stimulants hit all at once and he threw a table halfway across the mess hall. No one was hurt, fortunately, but a lot of people decided to stay in their rooms afterward.
It isn't all bad, though. Jennifer's classes have graduated to using dummies, or in some cases, soldiers. They don't seem to mind. For the most part, the soldiers have integrated pretty well now that they're not downing pills and trying to herd or shoot anyone. Only a few really overdosed on stimulant intake, and they've been extra courteous to the civilians and Teyla and Ronon.
Well, almost all the soldiers.
No one's really sure what to do about Evan. Rodney has seen him storming through the halls, scaring everyone but the soldiers that had followed him during the crisis. He's heard some people ask if he's angry, or upset, or about to snap and kill everyone—a line from Radek muttered through a ventilation shaft. The Major barks orders and snaps at scientists and still twitches towards a weapon around Ronon and Teyla. No one's even sure he's slept in the past few days.
Rodney listens to everyone, takes in their worries and concerns. As a scientist, he considers it his responsibility to be an observer. He's learned that Teyla is a peacekeeper, Ronon is protective of him and John, Samantha prefers the lab to any other environment. That certain people instinctively know their way around the city, that despite the reports they don't know what everything in the city does, that no one likes the order to remain in quarters as much as possible at all.
He's learned that Evan does three circuits of the known city a day. He's seen that while the Major's officially off the pills, he still carries a bottle around. He's felt the shakes running through the man's body that one time they ended up on a transporter together. And Rodney…doesn't consciously remember, but he must have some sort of muscle memory of withdrawal because he knows, just knows, what Evan is going through. Knows what he's feeling, knows why he's jittery, knows what he needs.
He makes a decision, one that has to take place tonight. He goes to a rarely-used corridor Evan passes by on his daily rounds and waits just around the corner out of sight. He knows Evan still carries at least a stunner, but by making a surprise attack he should be okay. Otherwise this could be a very short plan, especially since he's pretty sure Evan has other weapons secreted about him, and not necessarily the stunning kind.
On cue, at nearly one-thirty in the morning, he hears the Major clomping down the hall. Rodney readies himself, quickly glancing to check no one else is around, and waits. And waits. And waits. The footsteps stop, there's the sound of a rattle, and Rodney bites down a sigh. Obviously Evan's defying orders and is still taking the stimulants. He makes a mental note to talk to Jennifer, get her to lock away the medicine in another, secret location. They have limited supplies and really can't afford to maintain the Major's drug habit.
He almost misses when the Major starts marching again. He's still learning how to not vanish into his thoughts which, according to Teyla, happens because his mind is so much faster than everyone else's. Oddly, it seems to happen to John a few times, too, but whether it's for the same reason or something else, Rodney hasn't figured out yet. The Colonel is a very quiet, very enigmatic person.
Evan certainly isn't, as is obvious by the glare of hatred over Rodney's hand. As soon as the Major turned the corner Rodney slammed into him, shoving the man so his back was against the wall. He slapped one hand over the man's mouth and used the other to toss the stunner down the hall before grabbing Evan's crotch. Evan's panting harshly and Rodney can feel the bared teeth against his palm, but he isn't yelling, isn't really struggling even. He's just trying to push back against Rodney's body, but Rodney checked the medical files and knows he's got the greater mass.
He keeps his eyes locked with Evan, trying to show he won't harm the man, but won't release him, either. One of Evan's hands has latched onto his forearm, trying to pry it away. Rodney can feel, through the grip and shirt and jacket, faint tremors running through the hand and down the arm. In fact, he can feel all of Evan's body vibrating, tense and strong but not wholly under his control. For a minute Rodney's lost in sensation, a memory he doesn't have of shaking and clutching and pain, and so much want, a need to be touched, to feel any sort of euphoric high.
It lasts less than a second, and he knows he has to finish, he can't let Evan go through this alone.
Under his palm he can feel Evan's erection, half-formed and stiffening in the curve of his fingers. He gives an experimental stroke, and it jerks. Evan practically quivers, a growl, or maybe underdeveloped yell catching in his throat. Rodney pushes his body harder against Evan, keeping him in place and, with their eyes locked, starts a steady rhythm or sliding almost side-to-side with his hand, using his knee to nudge the Major's legs wider apart.
Evan's eyes narrow to near-slits as Rodney picks up the pace. This time, the growl is more of an angry, cut-off scream as his hips thrust against the weight of Rodney's body. Evan's resistance becomes involuntary, more writhing than shoving, and then his lower body tenses up. Evan's other hand comes up and grips his arm so hard Rodney knows he's going to have bruises and the cloth under Rodney's fingers becomes damp.
Rodney yelps as Evan clenches his teeth, catching some skin from his palm. Evan's quiet, save for a low sound that's some variant between a hiss and a hum. His motions have become sharp jabs, but are slowing, slowing, and then he stops. He's panting through his nose and his forehead is damp with sweat, but the Major makes no move to escape. In fact he leans against the wall, eyes wide, but intently focused on Rodney.
They stare for a good few minutes, and Rodney waits until the harsh breaths against his palm are even and calm, before removing his now damp hand from Evan's body. With it, he reaches into Evan's vest, and pulls out the bottle of pills. It's almost completely full, Rodney notes, with maybe one or two missing. A fresh dose. Rodney holds it in front of Evan and shakes it once, then clutches it in a fist and lowers his arm to his side.
Evan follows the bottle with his eyes, then releases Rodney's arm, pushing his palms flat against the wall to help support himself. Rodney takes his other hand away and takes one step back, two, four; until he's up against the opposite wall. Evan's barely trembling anymore, save for his hands, which shake as he steps sideways down the hall. Rodney follows his movements, and though it's probably not smart, watches the Major bend to scoop up the discarded stunner.
Evan shoots him one more, unreadable look, and then he turns and walks away. Rodney holds his breath until the Major turns the corner and he can't hear the footsteps anymore. Only then does he let himself collapse back against the wall and slide down until he's sitting. He takes deep breaths, trying to get his heart rate back to something even resembling normal. He's pretty sure Evan got the message, but what happens now all lays on the man's next move.
When he's sure he can walk without having to support himself with a hand on the wall, Rodney gets up and starts back to his own quarters. He has just enough time to wash up before falling onto his bed fully dressed. He only has a few hours to catch some sleep before tomorrow, and the next challenge, begins.
The next day Evan makes reports by radio, and doesn't come to the control room once. The day after, he radios in sick. John steps up at Evan's request to take over his duties, but Rodney doesn't see Sheppard with any expression other than displeasure all day. In fact, by dinner time John is tense with no neck and twitching at any movement. When Samantha approaches him to ask about his day he snaps completely, shoving her away and retreating to the office.
Rodney makes sure she's okay and in the capable hands of another Major and Chuck before cautiously approaching the office. He sees John standing in front of the couch, just staring out the window to the ring room. He's very careful, very slow, and when John doesn't move, he pulls the stunner out of John's holster. John swallows, but still says nothing. Rodney reaches his hand up, sees John's entire body freeze, hesitates, then removes the radio from John's ear.
He backs up and places both items on the desk behind his back, then, as neutrally as he can, asks, "What's wrong, John?"
John's whole body seems to convulse, and then he's on the couch, head in his hands. "Sorry. Sorry, sorry."
Rodney crosses the room and sits beside him. "Samantha's fine. Winded, startled, but fine. Really."
John takes a shuddering breath. "How did I do this?"
"Do what?"
"How the hell did I run the military?!" His head jerks up, and Rodney takes in the dark circles and stress lines, and wonders how he could have missed those signs. "I keep leading people to their deaths, Rodney." He sounds broken, and all Rodney can think to do is imitate Teyla, to touch his arm, his shoulder, in support. "I've been reading the missions. I've killed…God, Rodney, not just soldiers, but-"
"Teyla says you're a very adept, well-liked commander. Ronon says you're the best one he's ever had." Rodney's own reports deride John's intelligence and need for sexual encounters, but there's also praise and compliments. "I trust you with my life."
"They all do." He lowers his head again. "I guess…I'm sorry, I just—" he takes a shuddering breath. "I need to stop reading those files. I know Teyla said they'd help, but…I don't like the man I was. The man who brought so many people out here just so they could die."
Rodney remains silent and tries to think. He's read only a quarter of the reports he's written, but he knows what's out there. Aliens that suck the life out of people, and aliens that shoot at them, and aliens that poison themselves and, well, just a bunch of evil aliens, really. It's a miracle any of them haven't snapped after four years, or even have the bravery to leave their base to face all the shit out there.
In the end, he squeezes one of John's hands. "Then don't be." At John's startled look. "Fresh start, remember? Not a clue that I am. Not a clue that you are. Blank slates. And since you've been here, you haven't hurt anyone." John's hand squeezes his hard at that, so hard Rodney bites back a pained sound.
Before he can say anything else, though, Ronon's there looms over them. He looks straight at John and jerks his head towards the door. Rodney would rather stay, but he should make sure Samantha's okay, and Ronon is John's best friend. Maybe he's the best equipped to deal with this. "I'll tell Samantha you're sorry."
John holds onto his hand another minute, then drops it, drops both his hands and falls back against the couch so he can stare at the ceiling. "Thanks, McKay." The enigmatic, quiet John reappears, and Rodney gives John's shoulder one last pat before getting up and escaping to the control room.
Samantha, despite being the victim, is looking at the windowed wall anxiously. "Is he okay?"
"A little stressed." Rodney puts a hand on her back and gently guides her away. John should have some privacy, something that Chuck and the nameless Major must have realized. "How about we get you checked out by Jennifer, and then grab something to eat?"
"I'm fine, really." Her stomach lets out a loud rumble, and she flushes, laughing. "Well, I could use some food."
Rodney smiles and heads for the transporter, keeping his hand on her back. He asks her about what she learned, and tries to ignore the strange pain in his chest as she talks about power ratios and equations and his detailed reports. He knows he's missing something, some crucial aspect of which he is, but the pain is lessening as he discovers his new self, whatever that is.
A leader, part of his mind whispers, but he pushes it away. He doesn't want to usurp Samantha's authority. He's just taking care of things while she tries to deal with their power problems, something she's obviously qualified for, since she apparently created the generators they're using.
When they arrive at the mess hall, Rodney pauses to look the room over. He's pretty much taken meals in the control room, partially because of how much needed to be done, but also, if he's honest with himself, because he doesn't want to be trapped in the room again. It's different, though. The beds are gone, replaced with long tables and short tables and even some plants to brighten the place up. Most people, he notes, are tucked away in seats in the corners, alone. He makes a mental note to rearrange the room in a day or two, encourage people to sit together and talk.
They have to live together, after all.
Samantha doesn't seem to pause for a breath as they move down the serving counter, and Rodney picks up two sandwiches and a salad automatically. There's a new drink that's a bright color with a smell that excites and frightens him. He grabs a bottle of that and one of water, and though Samantha heads towards a small two-person table in front of the panoramic window, Rodney boldly strides towards the center long table, easily able to seat twelve or fourteen.
That subdues Samantha's conversation, but once they're seated and she's had a few bites, she's back up to her previous pace, if a little quieter. Rodney feels eyes on him, but concentrates on smiling and relaxing and showing that this is good, this is okay. This is normal. He and Samantha are command staff, they're setting an example. At the next meeting he'll bring it up with the others, try to encourage eating in groups rather than just alone or with one other.
He eats his sandwich by rote, making agreeable noises to encourage Samantha. Her eyes are shining and she's obviously excited relearning the technology around them. Rodney knows that thrill, but for some reason it doesn't bring him the same sense of wonder as her. Perhaps that's because he's been here longer than her. His reports from the first year have an excited quality, but his tone becomes more blasé as time passes.
Which begs the question, if Samantha is so stoked by the technology around them, why was she put into a simple administrative role? Was she being punished for something? Or sent here to keep him on a leash? Or maybe before the amnesia struck, understanding technology had lost its luster for her. Maybe she knew everything already, and Rodney, despite being here longer, actually knew very little compared to her.
Mulling that thought over, he misses Teyla's arrival in the mess, but he certainly hears the "Rodney!" she screams as he picks up the strange new drink. She knocks the bottle from his hand before he can even open it. It bounces on the floor and spins away, eventually resting against some sergeant's boot. Rodney knows his mouth is hanging open, and Samantha is gaping at Teyla, her sandwich halfway between her mouth and her plate.
Teyla isn't panting, but the panic on her face is clear. "I thought," she says, her tone barely controlled fury and fear, "that you had read your medical file."
"I did." He stutters.
"Did your file not say you were allergic to citrus?" Teyla's words sound more like a warning than a question.
He nods slowly. He remembers that detail; he just doesn't remember what citrus is. He looks over to the bottle, which the sergeant is watching as if it were some hostile creature about to attack him. "So that has citrus?"
She slides into the seat next to him. "Orange juice is made from oranges, a citrus fruit. Lime, lemons, and oranges all contain citrus." She picks up his water bottle and turns it to show him the tiny print by the box describing calories and salt and other percentages. "Always check the ingredients. If it has citrus, you can't have it. You have told us you cannot even touch it." Her voice lowers, filled with worry and concern. "You stop breathing, Rodney. And without proper medical treatment, you could die."
He can feel the blood draining from his face. It has from Samantha's as well. Idiot, he berates himself. He's read about the citrus allergy, but he hasn't looked further to see what citrus is. After all, why would they send an expedition leader to a place where an allergy could hurt him? He'd never even thought to ask.
He shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, pushing what's left on his plate away. He knows it's wasteful, that they don't have enough food to just leave some unfinished, but he's lost his appetite. He was a minute from death. If Teyla hadn't come in…
"Rodney?"
He rubs the edges of his eye sockets, then leans back and sighs. "I'm fine," he reassures Telya, even though he really isn't. "I just…I think I need to get some rest." He touches her shoulder. "Thank you. For…" Saving my life seems so inane, but it's true.
She must understand, though, because she smiles. "Do you remember the way?"
"Yes." Samantha moves to stand and he waves at her. "No, no. Finish eating."
"Yes, please." Teyla turns to Samantha, still smiling. "Tell me, how goes the research on the cloak?"
Distracted, Samantha's attention refocuses to her new audience and Rodney manages to walk out. He manages to keep his steady, sure gait out of the mess hall, through the corridor, and all the way to the transporter. Once the doors close, though, he slumps against the wall, his shoulders bumping against the destination screen. He could've died. Died. From just a drink. And he ate and drank stuff off-world according to the reports. He's allergic to fruits and insects and how did he have the courage to leave the city with nature itself ready to plague him?
Obviously, he was a braver man than he thought. Or stupider.
It's not something to be obsessing over in a transporter, where anyone can open the doors and find him having a little freak out. He has to focus on the schematic of the city for a few more minutes before he remembers which square is his destination. He feels no physical sensation, no indication that anything happens, but the doors open to a different hallway. It's a strange sensation, but having lived in this city for four years, he knows he'll get used to it again.
Finding his way through the halls is easier now, but he still counts the doors down the corridor that lead to his room. His first time in the "command hall" he found John's room, Samantha's room, and an empty room before finding his own. The empty one had a beautiful balcony view, with a wreath hanging above the bed, and the power cut from the lights. Teyla told him it belonged to Elizabeth Weir, a respected leader no longer with them. Rodney's doing some research to learn how to permanently lock the door, so no one else disturbs the quiet.
His own quarters had been intimidating at first. His initial visit—led by Teyla after spending nearly three days in the control room—was very brief. He'd stood in front of a diploma-covered wall for an hour, reading Rodney McKay's accomplishments. Obviously his career and knowledge was his life, as was the little furry animal and the blond woman and girl. He didn't know if it was his wife, his sister, or his academic advisor. She was important, though, important enough to take up one of the frames reserved for those precious, precious certificates.
He didn't get any sleep that night, as Teyla'd hoped. Instead he found a spare box in the closet and carefully took all the framed papers down and packed them away. The blond woman and furry beast joined them, and then he stuck the box in a corner of the room, folding the lid closed and resting a big book of Astrophysics on top to keep it shut. He escaped back to the tower, and when Teyla brought him down the next evening, he didn't feel nearly as overwhelmed as before.
He didn't know that Rodney McKay, and being forced to confront his old self before sleeping would lead to restless nights. Now the walls are bare, and he's turned most of the books so their spines are facing the inward wall. The books and publications are comforting, just like his tablet, and stuffing them in the closet seems wrong. He's thinking of getting a plant, but it's a low priority right now. There are more important issues.
Stripping down to his shirt and boxers, he slides into the bed and curls up on his side. He's tried sleeping on his back, his stomach, but side seems to be the most comfortable for his spine. It's hard for him to believe he'd be comfortable sleeping off-world, but maybe the hard ground helps. It's something worth asking Teyla about, anyways. Eventually. When he isn't freaking out about John losing it, and nearly dying by drink.
He's not sure when he falls asleep, but when he focuses on the world again, his room is dark, the moonlight is growing, and his door is chiming. Insistently. He reaches for his radio, and sighs when he realizes he forgot to take it off, so it's lost in his sheets. Again. Letting out a heavy breath, he rolls himself to the edge of the bed and gets up, twisting the waistband of his boxers so they aren't so tangled around his legs.
He's expecting Ronon or Teyla or even Samantha coming to fetch him for some problem. Maybe John or Jennifer coming to talk. At the very outside maybe Radek, deciding to finally come out of hiding. He's absolutely not expecting Evan.
Especially not Evan out of uniform. "Major."
"Doctor." Evan's skin is pale, dark circles ringing his red eyes, and his hands are tugging on his t-shirt. "Think we can talk?" His voice sounds terse, but not angry or paranoid like it did prior to their hallway encounter.
It's obvious Evan isn't going to take no for an answer, and after what Rodney did to him in the corridor it's probably better to work this out in private. So he nods and backs into his room, giving the Major as much space as possible in case violence is coming.
Evan doesn't make any overt moves, in fact all he does is stand just inside the door, taking in the stripped down room before turning his attention to Rodney. Not the intense, angry glare, but still focused, still threatening. There's a tense few minutes of silence where Rodney ends up holding his breath, then, "I wasn't addicted to the pills." Rodney fights the urge to argue. This is Evan trying to talk, and obviously it isn't easy for the man.
"I wasn't," Evan reiterates. "I just," he pulls the shirt edge tightly between his fists, "I sleepwalk." His neck turns red, eyes darting to focus on the wall behind Rodney's shoulder. "When I went to sleep that first night, I woke up somewhere else in the city. Alone." He swallows. "I'm—I was…"
Scared, Rodney finishes, but he isn't going to make Evan say it. "Why didn't you lock your door?"
"I didn't know how," Evan snaps. He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply. "I didn't know how, and the soldiers still saw me as head of the military. I had to be strong." A shudder wracks his shoulders. "Sleepwalking is a vulnerability. I couldn't show that." His eyes slide back to Rodney. "I took just enough to stay awake."
Rodney nods and sits down on the edge of the bed. Evan's freak-out over the situation happens while he's unconscious, and that's probably even more frightening than other manifestations. Waking up in a strange part of a strange city…Rodney wouldn't want to fall asleep either. "And now?"
"I know how to lock the door." He's back to wrapping the shirt around his hands. "I'm through some of the worst of the withdrawal, I think." He looks down at his hands. "You didn't have to force the issue." This time there's a thread of anger in his tone. "Especially that way."
"It wasn't like that." Rodney feels his shoulders tighten reflexively, but he forces himself to keep his tone neutral, calm. "I…knew. Just…knew what you were feeling, and knew the only way to help."
"So you remembered something." Accusation in his tone.
"Muscle memory. I don't know how or why but seeing you…I just knew what you were feeling, knew what you needed." Evan lets out an undecipherable snarl and paces two steps back and forth, a fist clenching at his side. Rodney watches him carefully, keeping himself just on the edge of his bed. He should say something reassuring, something to sooth the Major. "You weren't exactly receptive to normal methods," is what comes out, and he's not sure where that came from.
It's got Evan's attention, though. He's glaring again, shirt edge taut between his fists. Rodney swallows, and decides to just go with it. If it comes down to it, he's pretty sure he can throw a punch as well as Evan. "The Colonel gave you an order. No more stimulants. You had—have—a very good reason, but you went about it wrong. If you'd come to us and explained it-"
"I don't have to explain anything to you, Doctor."
"Except you do." Rodney squares his shoulders and stands up, trying to make himself taller than the man. "John said that for now, you follow my orders. You may not like it-"
"And you have no right deciding how to discipline me," Evan interrupts. He surges forward, leaving less than an inch between their noses. "You had no right," he continues in a fierce whisper, "to deal with the situation. I'm Sheppard's responsibility-"
"And obviously he's an ineffectual leader if he let you continue to endanger not just your health, but the mental and potential physical health of everyone around you!" Evan's fists find Rodney's shirt too fast for him to see, but he knows they're there, feels the trembling of either withdrawal or rage against his chest. The stare-off is spectacular, and Rodney isn't sure what's going to happen next. He's still processing what he just said.
It's what a good leader admits, he tells himself. He likes John, and obviously John likes him. But Evan's problem shouldn't have gone on for as long as it had. And the meltdown today…maybe John was a good leader before, but now, now it may be too much. Without all the training and emotional control, is John really the best man to lead Atlantis' military forces?
Despite the anger in Evan's eyes, Rodney can see the Major is asking himself the same question. And neither of them wants to acknowledge the answer. It's something that needs to be examined in the morning, when heads are cooler, and they've had time to think. He reaches up and grabs one of Evan's arms, the other man's heaving breaths tickling the backs of his fingers.
"I did what I thought was best." He tries to keep his voice steady, but he knows he's stuttering a little. "For you. For Atlantis. We…we need you. Not just as a soldier, but as a member of this community." He squeezes Evan's arm. "I did what I thought would…help you. If you were a little more approachable-"
"I'm not supposed to be."
"John was." Evan narrows his eyes at that. "I've read the reports. He's the military leader, but he's also a friend. Someone they can talk to." He tugs at the arm. "Let go, Evan. We can't keep this up. If we don't trust each other, work together, then what hope is there for the rest of the base? We lead, they follow. Do you really want more fighting? Or can we move on and figure out who we are now?"
They stare at each other for another minute, then Evan gently shoves him away and takes a step back, his face down-turned. "You still had no right," he mutters.
Rodney takes a minute to calm his racing heart and nods. "Yes, I'm sorry. I just—next time, I'll talk to John."
"No." Evan glances at him, then at a point past his shoulder. "No. We can…we…should…" His neck flushes red again. "There won't be a next time." He rolls his shoulders. "Sir."
As the adrenaline starts to drain away, Rodney decides the need to stand isn't nearly as important as it was five minutes ago, and sinks back down. "You don't need," he starts, then shakes his head. "Look, Evan. I don't want to be your superior. I just want us to be able to…work together." He hesitates. "Trust each other."
Evan still doesn't look at him, but Rodney can see some of the tension fade from his stance. "I trust you." From the wide-eyed look Evan gets, Rodney's willing to bet he's not the only one surprised by the admission. "I mean—you've done everything you said. Gotten things running, at least."
Rodney isn't sure what to say, so he just sits there, blinking. He can't really take all the credit. Everyone on the command staff had a hand in returning some order to the situation. "Thanks," is what he finally settles on. "You've done a good job, too."
There's an awkward silence after that. Rodney looks at the wall behind Evan, while Evan finds the bed suddenly enthralling to watch. He's pretty sure progress has been made, but the next step could be…anything. He's just been making this up as he goes along. Does he offer to talk right now, or dismiss Evan like a soldier, or change the topic completely?
It's Evan who breaks the stalemate, clearing his throat as his hands begin to tremble again. "It's late si—it's late. And we both have a meeting tomorrow."
Rodney glances at his clock, finding that yes, it's nearly two am, and he should be fast asleep. "Right." He coughs. "Right. Um, see you in the morning?"
Evan nods, shuffles his feet, and then almost runs out of the room. Rodney waits until the door slides closed before shifting up the mattress a bit and lying back, lifting his feet from the floor. Tomorrow, he thinks, could be interesting.
Rodney catches John talking to Samantha quietly in the corner in the morning staff meeting. His eyes look bruised, haunted, but Samantha is smiling and rests a hand against his arm. He smiles, then Samantha moves to take a seat at the table. John, though, stands there staring at the corner for a minute before seeming to steel himself to head to the table. Keeping an eye on the Colonel, Rodney turns in his seat to face Samantha. "You okay?"
She pushes her hair back over her shoulders. Normally she wears it bound in some way, but today it's loose, and she gives the follicles an annoyed look before grinning. "Oh yes. He just wanted to apologize in person." She sighs and touches his wrist. "How about you? You had a scare yesterday."
For a minute, he thinks she means his conversation with Evan, but then he remembers the orange juice. "Oh, right. No, no. I just needed a good sleep." Which he had, except for that intense half-hour. He waves awkwardly at his hair. "Trying a new look?"
She sighs again, rolling her eyes. "I set the band down in the lab and it's gone missing. And I'm not sure where I keep the rest." She let out a soft laugh. "My bathroom is ridiculous." She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Mine isn't the only one, at least. Jennifer asked me yesterday why she needed so much cos…cosmetics."
"Maybe Jennifer has some of those hair bands."
Samantha nods. "I'm going to ask her after the meet—oh." Some of the cheer vanishes from her voice. "He's back."
Rodney looks to the door to see Ronon and Jennifer entering, followed by Evan. His uniform looks wrinkled, and even a bit over-sized on him, but that probably has to do with the way he's a little hunched over. His eyes are a slightly bloodshot, and his hair is nowhere as anally neat as it was pre-incident. He doesn't hesitate in the doorway, just ignores the hush and takes a seat one away from John. Rodney's pretty sure it's a bad sign that both heads of their military look so crappy.
Teyla is the last one to join them, not looking so well herself. She looks a little green. He knows he's not the only who notices, judging by Ronon's frown. "I'm sorry for my tardiness. Breakfast did not agree with me," she says, sitting beside Jennifer.
"It's all right," Samantha says, placing her hands together on the table. "We were just about to start." She nods to Evan. "Welcome back, Major."
"Thanks, ma'am." He clears his throat. "I'm ready to take on command of the soldiers again, sir." John flaps his hand in either an acknowledgement or a dismissal. Evan nods once, but his eyes meet Rodney's briefly, and he knows the man hasn't forgotten the outburst from the night before.
Teyla takes the lull in the conversation to lean forward a bit. "I would like to put forth the request of going to see my people." Rodney can see the denial about to come from Evan's lips, but at the last second the Major bites his tongue. "They will be worried, not hearing from us for so long."
Rodney knows that the Athosians are perhaps the only allies they can really trust in this galaxy. Like Ronon and Teyla, they are probably already immunized from the amnesia illness. And they do need to replenish their food stores eventually, and the Athosians are probably the only civilization that would do so with no intention of taking advantage of the people of Atlantis.
There's just one major problem that Rodney has to point out. "I thought we couldn't use the big ring-"
"Stargate," Ronon interrupts
Rodney nods. "The Stargate without some vital part."
Teyla blinks, as if she'd forgotten that. Considering how much she's done this past week, he wouldn't be surprised if she had. "Right." She finally says. "The control crystal Doctor Zelenka removed."
Samantha grimaces. "Unfortunately, Doctor Zelenka is still unaccounted for. Not even the sensors can find him."
Teyla seems to deflate. "I was hoping he would be ready to come out of hiding by now."
"I could find him," Ronon offers gruffly.
Evan looks like he's going to protest, but John beats him to it. "That'll just send him deeper into hiding." He slouches in his chair. "That's what I wanted to do, when I woke up." What he still wants to do, is the vibe he's giving off. "And you said he knew the city better than Rodney."
Teyla nods. "I don't suppose you've learned enough to work around the removed crystal, Rodney?"
"Have I done it before?"
She smiles, gently. "Yes. Though you complained that next time you'd insist on a raise."
Good to know, but, "I'm sorry, Teyla. I'm just starting to get around the system. I'm not sure I can tackle something like the Stargate."
"I can take a look," Samantha offers. She looks to Rodney. "I've worked longest with alien technology, right? And I'm starting to get a feel for the generators."
"By taking one apart," Rodney counters. A dead one, but still, they hadn't known it at the time. "I don't think we should take apart the Stargate. We've only got one, it looks like."
She opens her mouth, then shuts it. "That's…a good point. But there are schematics, right?"
Rodney's not sure, so he looks to Teyla. She nods. "All right. There's no harm in looking over schematics." When he looks to Samantha again, he sees she's raised an eyebrow at him, and he realizes he's acted more like the leader than her. A bad precedent to set, or habit to get into. "Sorry."
It's Jennifer's turn to clear her throat. "I had to sedate Lieutenant Peterson yesterday." Evan looks over sharply at that, but John only glances at her. "He had an anxiety attack. I think it was an anxiety attack. It may have just been pure panic. I'm still trying to discern-" Ronon nudges her arm and she looks to him silently. After a moment, she looks back to Samantha, studiously ignoring Evan. "It was the two moons. I think…our records indicate that we're from another planet, another galaxy. Our planet had one moon."
"But we don't remember it," John replies mulishly. "It shouldn't affect us."
"People are reacting to our situation differently, Colonel," Rodney says, with a slight edge in his voice. "Some people have become reclusive, some are freaking out, and some just can't handle the stress of a day." John has the dignity to duck his head at that. "We don't remember, but our bodies do. Two moons mean different gravity, a different affect on the planet." And wow, he has no idea how he knows that, but he knows it's true.
"Five moons, actually," Samantha interjects, then nods to Jennifer. "So he doesn't remember home, but he had the attack because we're on an alien planet?"
"I believe so, yes. I," she flushes lightly, "may have given him too much. I meant to knock him out for a few hours, but apparently I gave him enough to keep him unconscious for almost three days." She coughs. "We're, um, going to study medicine doses again, see if we can get a better understanding. And the allergies of everyone here. I don't want to…well…"
"That's a good idea." Samantha turns to John, but after an awkward half-minute where the man refuses to look up from the table, she turns her attention to Evan. "Can you talk to Peterson when he wakes up? See if the attack can be controlled, or if he's in trouble."
"Shouldn't be a problem, ma'am." Evan licks his lips. "But what's to prevent this from spreading? None of us are native here." He glances to Ronon and Teyla, but doesn't say what everyone knows he's thinking.
Teyla sits forward again, looking even greener than earlier. "Some distractions may prevent that. There are many rooms designated for gathering events and media. Showing films from the media database may help, and get you reacquainted with your own culture."
"Help with the boredom, too." Ronon crosses his arms and leans back. "People are getting sick of just sitting around in their rooms."
Rodney has to nod at that. He may be the busiest man on Atlantis, but there's still the hundreds of others who are only allowed out for some retraining on their skills, or to get food. Watching films would also contribute to his plans to get people to sit together. "I think that's an excellent idea. We can get some soldiers to set up the rooms and John, you can make more signs, right?"
John nods, offering Rodney a brief, ugly smirk. "Yeah, Rodney, no problem." And then he's looking back at the table.
Rodney lets out a mental sigh and returns his attention to Teyla. "Do you think you could access the media database, compile a good cross-section for us?"
"I would be happy to, Rodney." She's even greener now, and eyeing the door. He makes a mental note to ask Jennifer to check on her later, and to look over the food. An outbreak of food poisoning is the last thing they need.
He turns his chair to face Samantha. "Sound like a good plan, Samantha?"
She simply nods, her face unreadable. "Sounds like a plan, Rodney." Rodney winces internally. Damn it, he did it again. "I think we should reconvene in the evening, see how far we are in implementing it." She looks around the table. "Any other pressing business?" At the silence, she leans back. "Then until tonight."
Teyla is out like a shot, not even pausing to apologize to the marine she knocks over in her haste. Ronon is quick to follow, as is Jennifer. Maybe a mental note isn't needed after all. He moves to stand, along with Evan, when Samantha grabs his arm. "If you've got a moment, Doctor McKay?"
Full title. That can't be good. "No problem, Colonel Carter." Evan leaves and, after a darting glance at them, John does as well. When the door closes, Rodney falls back into his seat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
She rolls her chair back about a foot, eyeing him. "You're not the head of this outpost, Rodney. I am."
He flinches at the pronouncement. "I know, I'm sorry-"
"I'm talking, Rodney." He shuts up at that. "I acknowledge that you are vital to this mission. According to the reports I've read, this city would've been lost in the first year if it weren't for you."
Except past performance means nothing now, his mind helpfully supplies. Something in his expression must betray the thought, because Samantha nods.
"I don't…I've been thinking about this. You've been important, the second civilian in command after Doctor Weir, and now after me. I call the final shots, but you and John, you've been here longer, know what's best for the city. I haven't been here that long." She takes a deep breath, as if steeling herself. "And I think that's why you're trying to run things now, why you should run things."
Rodney stares at her. "I…what? Samantha?"
She shrugs. "I've been dealing with the technology a lot longer than I have the administrative stuff. And you…you know the systems, the people, better than I do. People respond to you better." She offers him a half-smile. "You were a natural in the mess hall."
"I don't want—I didn't mean to try to take this from you."
"It's all right, Rodney. You didn't. I haven't exactly been up here combing through all the files, trying to figure out who did what, or what our emergency guidelines are. That's all been you and Teyla. I've been down in the lab, understanding our power systems."
"A vital job-"
"Your job, Rodney. And I took it." She smiles fully this time. "It's only right you take mine."
Rodney sits back in his chair. "That's not funny," he says, even though he can feel the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.
"It's a little funny." She shakes her head. "I don't mind, Rodney. Clearly I'm more suited to the labs right now. I'm more in tune with the technology than the people, the city itself." She stands up and he immediately follows suit, trying not to tense as she places her hands on his shoulders. "You care about this place, more than I…had the opportunity to, before the amnesia. This isn't a coup, I'm offering it to you."
He hesitates. "How will this affect us if—when, when we get our memories back?"
"Hopefully, we'll still be good friends." She raises her eyebrows at him. "Come on, Rodney. Please? At least say yes so I can stop feeling guilty spending all the time in the labs and you can stop feeling guilty about trying to usurp my position."
He feels himself grin at that. "Well, when you put it that way." He lets out a slow sigh. "I accept."
"Thanks, Rodney." She pulls him forward and gives him a tight hug before stepping back. "I'm going to take a look at the Stargate schematics, for Teyla." His smile diminishes at the name. "Do you think she's okay?"
"I was going to ask Jennifer to check on her. And the food." He looks around the room, then joins her on the way to the door. "Think the others will be okay with this change in command?"
Samantha shakes her head. "Frankly, it probably should've happened before now. Of course, Major Lorne's probably going to protest."
Evan doesn't protest. In fact, no one seems too surprised, except John, who perks up for all of two minutes before going back to staring at the table and slouching. And Teyla, thankfully, looks a whole lot better. Rodney takes Jennifer aside to ask how the check-up went, and found out they're following a standard outline of basic tests from the How-To manual. It's not great, but it's better than they could do four days ago.
They're mostly set up for the media shows, and Rodney writes a small speech for the next morning after the meeting is over. They could start tonight, technically, but he doesn't want people staying up all night watching the films. According to Ronon, they're very addictive. At least to people from Earth. He also makes time to swing by the labs once they're 'closed'. He has a suspicion, and it's confirmed when he spots Radek writing notes around the drawing of the Stargate schematic on the whiteboard.
"You shouldn't sneak up on a man with a gun."
Rodney spots the stun weapon they took from the guard after the break-out. "You could just come out during the day, help Samantha with everything." He leans his hip against the nearest table and looks over the equations. Some of them spark…something, in his mind, but nothing tangible, nothing he fully understands.
"I much prefer my solitude, thank you. It's quiet, and no one disturbs me." There's a pointed look over the shoulder at that.
"It's my lab, you know."
"Samantha's lab, you mean." He's back to looking over the white board. "You almost never come." Radek sounds almost sad at that.
"You could visit me."
"With the soldiers? No, no."
The way the man twitches at the thought tells Rodney to drop the subject. "So you're doing okay? Found a place to stay? Getting enough food?"
"Yes, yes." He wipes out a blue equation with the side of his hand and writes something in with red pen. "I work best alone." No look this time, just tone.
Rodney decides to go for the hot topic. "Apparently," he says as casually as he can, "you removed a control crystal from the Stargate—the big round thing, in the main chamber. Teyla wants to visit her people, but without it, she can't go." Radek stops writing, tilting his head. "Do you know where it is?"
The inked hand tugs at the scraggly hair twice before he turns around. "Crystal. It is small, squarish?" He indicates a size with his pointer fingers. "This big, yes?"
Rodney shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm…not sure. Maybe?"
Radek squints at him from behind the glasses. "I have some. Many. I collect them." He pauses. "Maybe that is why, yes? I was told to hide one crystal. And I still do."
Rodney shuts his eyes and lets out a long breath. "How many?"
"Many." Another pause. "Will she die, if she cannot go?"
Rodney flashes on how ill she looked this morning, the thin thread of desperation in her voice, the hope she could see her people. "I…don't know. I don't think so." Silence. "I hope not." Some scuttling, then more silence. When Rodney opens his eyes, Radek is gone. He sighs. "Worth a shot," he mutters to himself. Waving his hand over the controls by the door, he turns the lights out and locks the labs for the night.
He means to go to his quarters, but his feet take him towards the Jumper Bay instead. He hesitates, just outside. It's technically forbidden. He's only seen Radek come out of there. That's probably what brings him there, he reasons. An off-chance that the Bay is Radek's hiding place for the crystals, even though since John and Ronon returned it's been locked down.
Only it hasn't, because the door opens for Rodney just by waving his hand over the crystal panel.
On the other side, John's head snaps up, eyes wide and mouth open, taken completely by surprise. Rodney feels just as surprised, but quickly masks it, stepping in and letting the door close behind him. John's mask tries to slip back on, but the worry seeps out. His usual control seems to have evaporated, and now he looks guilty, sitting on the ramp to the ship with a sandwich and bottle of water.
Rodney walks forward, each step seeming to disturb John more, if his shifting around is any indication. In the end, he sits cross-legged at the foot of the ramp, wincing at the small pop his back makes. "You know," he says conversationally, "there's these things called tables in the mess hall." John narrows his eyes a little, then picks up the sandwich and takes a defiant bite out of it. Rodney lets his eyes trail over the small vessel. "Is this the one you and Ronon flew back in?"
John swallows and nods. "I could move it, but I…well, Ronon pointed out I hit the wall twice already. And if I accidentally accelerate…"
"So what're you doing here?"
"I like it. Not the," he gestures to a bench with his hand, "because I woke tied up on it, but the front part I like. And the ramp is nice. My back likes it."
"What about your room? Doesn't it have a bed?"
John seems to shrink in on himself a little, taking another bite of his meal. "It's okay," he says in a tone that Rodney reads as 'I'd rather sleep in the hallway.' "There's this giant poster with a man staring at me. And curtains. And magazines and these clubs and…they're not me. I look at them, and it's not…me."
"And the ship is?"
John shoots him a dirty look. "The ship likes me. Ronon says what I have to fly them is in my blood, and I…I feel that. A little. A connection." Another uncomfortable shift. "He also says I'm not allowed to sleep in his room anymore."
Rodney feels his eyebrow raise at that. "You slept in Ronon's room?"
"I just…like having someone around, all right? I don't like sleeping alone." He looks Rodney over, as if judging something internally. "I get nightmares." He puts his sandwich down and swallows, for a different reason. "Really, really bad nightmares."
Rodney scoots himself a little closer to the ramp. "About?"
John looks around, then, almost reluctantly, "Everybody."
It's certainly not what Rodney's expecting. "Everybody?"
"Dying."
Ah. He reaches out to touch John's knee. "We're fine."
"I know that," he says in an annoyed voice. "But I keep…you keep drowning. Or I bury Ronon alive. Or I…I push this blond woman I don't know off a tower." The annoyance vanishes, replaced with a more haunted, frightened tone. "I keep killing people, and I don't know why."
And Rodney does. In addition to their early reports, he made an effort to read some of their more recent ones. And he knows some creature inhabited, imprinted John's form and memories and terrorized most of the senior staff. A woman died, someone named Heightmeyer. Some of the people's dreams were in their reports, but in the end, they had to get the entity out of John.
What if there was some feedback, some of the entity's memories stacked on John's own? Or maybe Colonel Sheppard made a point of reading everyone's reports. He seemed like that sort of commander, when he was responsible for the damage, to look over everything and see what he could do to fix it, to help the healing process. Either way, John didn't remember, but his subconscious did, and it was haunting him.
The outburst about everyone dying made a whole lot more sense now.
"Are these memories?" John's voice cuts into Rodney's thoughts, and hazel eyes are boring into his own. "Rodney, am…was I a monster?" He sounds desperate, pleading.
"They're just dreams-"
"But are they me? Who I was?! My…my old desires and thoughts and…oh god." He uses his hands to grip his hair tightly, looking to the floor. "Of everything, why did that stay? Am I such a…how horrible was I?"
Rodney can't let this go on. This has obviously been eating away John, long enough that it's festered nearly to a breakdown. He puts both of his hands on John's cheeks and shakes him, gently. "You are Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of the United States Airforce." John's eyes are wide, panicked, which just makes Rodney more determined to ground John. He keeps his tone firm. "You are a good man. If you weren't, I wouldn't trust you. Ronon and Teyla wouldn't have trusted you. You wouldn't put your life in danger nearly every week to save the lives of everyone on this expedition."
"But the dreams-"
"Are from an alien. Not too long ago an alien entity adopted your form and could access memories." He carefully squeezed John's face. "It's. Not. You." He keeps his eyes locked with John's, tries to will his belief and knowledge that John Sheppard is a good—if risk-taking—man. John's breathing syncs up with Rodney's, and slowly, the panic ebbs away from the John's eyes. It's only when John's entire body seems to go slack that Rodney pulls his hands away.
John licks his lips, his gaze darting around the room. "Th-thanks. I…the nightmares just-"
"Where have you been sleeping?"
Rodney can just see John's ears flush red. "In here. Sometimes. Maybe an hour or two at a time." He tries again for the mask, but even with it, he's wearing his emotions on his face. "I can usually catch some sleep during the day, fast naps."
Rodney frowns, but doesn't say anything. John takes the moment of silence to mean the talking is over and picks up the latter half of his sandwich. Rodney watches him eat, a plan forming in his mind. It's not ideal, but maybe it'll stabilize John enough that he won't have any more mini-breakdowns. The man needs at least one full-night's sleep. And to do that, he's going to need a light sleeper to comfort him back to sleep after any nightmare.
John gives him a worried glance as he finishes off the water bottle. "So it's okay if I sleep here, right?"
"No." Rodney pushes himself up, wincing at his knee's protest. "Come on. You're sleeping in my room tonight." John looks at him skeptically. "Look, sleeping in Ronon's room helped, right?"
"Yeah," he drawls, "but I don't want to intrude on the leader of Atlantis'-"
"It's my job to look out for everyone's welfare." Rodney tugs on John's arm to get him stand up. "Besides," he says a little uncertainly, "we're friends. Good friends. I mean, you knew my password. That has to mean something, right?"
That seems to brighten John's mood, as he smirks lightly. "Hey, yeah," he replies softly. "I've probably stayed with you a few times."
"Probably." As he leads John out, he makes sure to lock the Jumper Bay doors. He doesn't intend for anyone to sleep in there again.
John has an office, apparently, one that Evan's adopted even prior to the amnesia. So after he leaves John to eat breakfast in the mess hall—something John found utterly uncomfortable, but made both Samantha and Ronon happier—he follows the signs until he's at the office. Once he's there, he looks out into the hall, then shuts the door. When Evan turns his attention to him, Rodney makes a show of taking off his ear piece. He doesn't want anybody to hear what he has to say.
Evan picks up on the message, and removes his own, sticking it in a desk drawer. "Something up, Doctor?"
Rodney shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then carefully takes a seat on the couch. It's a lot more uncomfortable than it looks, like there's wood just underneath the cushions and the pillow padding is designed to transmit that hardness. "I was thinking that Jo—Colonel Sheppard could use a change of scenery."
Evan sighs and leans back in his seat, his brow furrowing. "McKay, he's my senior officer-"
"He can't handle it." The way Evan narrows his eyes lets Rodney know he wants to defend John, but also that he doesn't have any grounds to. "You and I both know it. You've seen it. He's…not in the best place to lead others. For now."
Evan's gaze darts to the door. "Does he know you're here?"
"No. But I—he and I talked last night. I…" He shakes his head. "He's a soldier, but he can't handle the burden of command right now."
"And I can."
"You were left in command. Your last thoughts were of military methods and how to lead your men. Follow the chain of command, compartmentalize, deal with stress." Rodney waves an arm towards the door. "He woke up sort of knowing how to fly one of the Jumpers and to defer to Ronon. That's it. And the identity he had…it's not exactly easy to live up to."
This time, Evan locks eyes with him. "And you know something about that."
Rodney meets Evan's careful gaze, trying to probe for any insult. In the end, he decides to accept the comment as an acknowledgement of understanding John on a level Evan can't. "He loves the city almost as much as me. So I was thinking maybe a patrol. Something that lets him see what he's tried to sacrifice himself for." And maybe to help him understand his worth as well.
"You were thinking of using him as a replacement for Peterson?"
Except that might be awkward for the lieutenant or sergeant patrolling with him. "Well, Ronon patrols the city, right? And he and John are friends. And you like to have someone tailing Ronon whenever he goes off on his own…"
Evan gives him a surprised look, as if Rodney should be less attuned to the military situation. "Lieutenant Sven has mentioned that he'd prefer a later shift," Lorne finally suggests. "I suppose Sheppard could join Ronon."
Rodney nods. "I'll let John know by lunch." He moves to get up, but Evan surges forward in his seat.
"Permission to speak freely, sir."
Rodney looks around. "I think," he says slowly, "as long as it's just us, you can be as…free as you'd like, Major."
"I don't like this," he says evenly, crossing his arms. "The Colonel shouldn't just have his command taken from him. He's been a good leader-"
"And since the cure was introduced, you've been a better one." Rodney runs a hand down his face. "John is…he doesn't have the mental facilities to handle who he was, or to handle all the responsibility. In fact it's…hurting him." At Evan's frown, he tentatively sighs. "He's been having nightmares. Nightmares that his previous mind could probably handle, but his current one is barely managing."
Evan thinks for a minute. "Memories?"
"Subconscious. Possibly alien remnant." Evan stiffens at that. "I already checked. He was cleared medically. His mind was just better at dealing with the effluence because of his previous experiences. But take away those experiences while leaving the recent trauma…"
"And you don't think taking his command won't hurt him?"
"I think it'll be," he pauses, thinking, "actually, I think it'll be a bit of a relief for him." Rodney raises an eyebrow at Evan. "Are you worried you won't be able to handle it, Major?"
Evan scowls a little. "I can handle the soldiers."
"I know." He makes eye-contact with Evan, long enough to let him know it's a compliment. "If that's all-"
"I'll tell him."
Rodney hesitates at that. "Technically, now that I'm in charge-"
"I—if I can't tell him myself, I'm not fit to lead these people. He's getting a demotion. If I'm not comfortable with him reporting to me, if I can't tell him…"
Rodney thinks it over, thinks how Sam transferred her authority to him, and nods. "All right." He stands up, and this time Evan does as well. "Any chance you'll move to the control room office?"
"Maybe if you get rid of that ugly painting."
Rodney's not entirely sure if Evan's kidding or not, but he simply offers the Major a half-smile and leaves. He wants to see how the media rooms are working out before tackling today's stack of Samantha's paperwork pre-amnesia. Just to get an idea of what their bosses at the SGC want.
That evening, when John arrives at Rodney's quarters with a small travel bag, he isn't upset or angry. Rodney takes that as a good sign and just says, "Planning on staying a while?"
"Just a few nights." John hesitates at the threshold before going to Rodney's dresser and making room in a drawer for his clothes. "I still can't believe your bed is bigger than Ronon's."
"Apparently I have a bad back, and this helps." If he wants to play it like nothing happened, Rodney's okay with that. Or maybe Evan couldn't talk to John today. That's entirely possible. "Though I've seen Teyla's. Hers is a little bigger. Made by her people."
"Really? Huh. How, uh," his unpacking slows down, "how is she?"
"Still sick in the morning, but she doesn't seem too worried about it. Ronon, either. So it may just be a bug. Jennifer said she'd have some results tomorrow."
"Ah." John goes back to putting things away, and Rodney pulls off his boots. He hears a drawer close, and then, "I'm going to be leaving a little earlier. I'm on patrol with Ronon."
"Oh?" Rodney carefully keeps his voice calm, trying not to betray a hint of how much he knows.
"Lorne thinks," John's gripping the edge of the dresser and staring at the wall, "that I could use a break. Something a little more mindless and a little less authoritative."
"Are you okay with that?" Rodney eyes John, noting that there's not as much tension in his back as there was yesterday.
There's a long exhale, and then, "I know you asked him to do this." Rodney waits. And waits. And then, "Thanks. I…it might help."
"Are you sure you're okay with it?"
"Yes, Rodney." When he turns around, his face is relaxed, with a small grin. "It's…I feel lighter. By a lot."
Rodney nods, letting his own grin slip through. "Good. Maybe tonight won't be so bad then."
John's grin shrinks a little. "Maybe." He bounces back against the dresser for a minute. "So, um, I was wondering if you'd checked out the media rooms yet."
"I looked them over." Rodney shrugs out of his jacket. "If tomorrow's calm, I was planning on seeing something in the afternoon. Pull Samantha away from the labs, show some senior staff support for the program."
"Oh. Well, could I come too? I…Ronon says they're going to be showing some of our favorites tomorrow in media two."
Rodney tosses his jacket to the chair. "Yeah, it'd be great if you could join us." He glances at John. "You not coming to bed?"
"I thought I might go for a walk first. I'm feeling a little restless." He raises his eyebrows in a hopeful manner.
Rodney sighs. "Well, the door's keyed for you, but I'm actually a little tired. I thought I'd go to sleep early. In case I…in case you need help tonight."
John's face falls for a minute. "Oh. Well, uh, thanks. I'll…I won't be long. Promise. And I won't wake you."
"No sweat." Rodney waits for John to leave before he strips out of the rest of his clothes and goes to sleep. Last night, John had only had two nightmares, one about Rodney, and one he wouldn't talk about. It took the better part of an hour both times to get the man back to sleep. The release of pressure from leading the military may help, but Rodney isn't going to assume that. And he needs at least six hours if he's going to be functional tomorrow.
That turns out to be his mental mantra over the next few weeks. Teyla's morning sickness turns out to not be a bug or virus, but according to Jennifer—"If I'm reading this report right, which I'm fairly certain I am."—is a symptom of pregnancy. Rodney does some mental math based on Jennifer's chart and realizes it must've happened shortly before the amnesia. Take in Teyla's lack of surprise, and Rodney's willing to bet she suspected even before the test results were back.
"Do you know who it is?" He's asked her to sit at one of the smaller tables against the wall to talk to her over lunch. It's not the most tactful question, but he tries to keep his tone respectful, courteous.
"Yes," she replies. "I wanted to let him know it was a possibility." She sighs into her soup, one of the few things that hasn't upset her stomach lately. "Unfortunately, Sam has had little success in finding the correct crystal, or a way around the mechanism."
Rodney thinks of the dozen or so crystals that mysteriously appeared yesterday and today on Samantha's desk. Radek obviously collected quite a bit, and he's slowly bringing them out, to help Teyla. He reaches across the table and rests his hand against her wrist. "We'll find a way to reach your people. Soon."
She offers him a thin smile. "I know you want to, Rodney. But…none of you have the capabilities yet."
"But we will. And when we do, we'll go visit your people and congratulate the father and Ronon will, I don't know, threaten to break his neck if he mistreats you and your child."
Her smile thickens at that. "I am sure he would be more civilized than that." She stirs her soup once, twice. "Thank you, for trying to cheer me up. It is…I know you miss who you were, but I admire who you have become in this crisis." She turns her hand to brush her fingers against his wrist. "I hope you realize how much you've done for everyone here. Including me."
Rodney feels his face flush, but nods. "Thank you. I…thank you."
She takes her hand back. "And now, though it is not opportune, I am afraid I must rush to the bathroom. The smell of the soup is…disgusting." As she dashes for the door, Rodney leans over and sniffs. Garlic, some other spice, and cooked purple-tinted bean. He wrinkles his nose, then waves an arm at Ronon by the kitchen door. Yet another food Teyla can't eat.
The next day brings its own sets of surprises. Rodney arrives at the control room office to see marines struggling to get a desk through the door, with Evan supervising. Obviously, the Major decided to take him up on the offer. Good. He feels a little more comfortable having the two heads closer together. Evan's still getting the hang of email, and Rodney doesn't feel entirely comfortable talking about some things over their headsets.
Though Rodney thought Evan was organizing everything, it turns out that Chuck, the man who keeps juggling in front of the Stargate, is arranging the room. "For maximum efficiency," he yells over the marines, then does some grunting, the desk rotates and suddenly the desk is in the office. "We should be done in a few hours." He shows off his teeth to Evan, then gets back to work.
Rodney exchanges a look with Evan, and they both shrug. "At least he's not juggling."
Evan crosses his arms. "He's offered to help me with emails and memos. Apparently, it's easy for him."
"One of his previous jobs was communications for the city. All forms."
"And he's been juggling?"
Rodney looks at the empty floor space. "I kind of miss it now. It seems so…barren."
"Huh." Evan seems to examine the tiles for a few minutes. "I'm sure my stuff won't eat up all his time."
The joint office seems to be some sort of symbol to the rest of the expedition. The next day, Rodney notes a lot more mingling between the military and civilians. Before it was tentative. A scientist eating with some marines. A sergeant asking to join civilians with the same flag on their sleeves. Within a day of he and Evan becoming office mates it's almost a sixty-forty split at each table. There are some outlying loners; some he recognizes as people still having trouble being on a different planet, or because they're obsessing over their lost memories.
He decides to send out an urgent announcement that the mingling should remain platonic in nature a few days later, when he goes to Jennifer's teaching room and discovers her half-naked and Ronon trying to devour her breast. It probably says something that Ronon doesn't immediately hear him or the door, but they both hear the "Good God!" that escapes from his throat. He has to cover his eyes when Ronon turns and, wow, he's not exactly dressed from the waist down, either.
When he looks again, Jennifer is doing an admirable impression of the red quira fruit from the mess hall and Ronon looks, looks…well, he's trying to look sheepish, but he just can't quite hide the smugness. "Look, you—we—the door was unlocked! Anyone could've walked in here!" Ronon shrugs, but Jennifer seems to be glowing, like she could combust from humiliation. "We…for all you know, she has someone!"
"Nope. I asked." Ronon grins and puts an arm around her shoulders.
"And he's been ever so helpful in demonstrations, and in pointing out what things go where." Her eyes widen right before she hides her face in her hands. "I mean, in the infirmary. The equipment. And…stuff."
"Yes but…how do you know if this is what you wanted before?"
Jennifer shrugs, but Ronon lets his grin slip. "You're not going to go back."
"We might-"
"No one's remembering." He shakes his head, dreads nearly knocking over the model of the human heart. "You're not going to. You've got to move on."
"Yes, well, I'm sure three minutes of gratification is motivation enough for that argument." Ronon growls a little at the tone, but Rodney's having none of it. "Look, just…be more discrete. And maybe postpone for a while. We don't remember it, but some of us might have…mates back home. Kids."
"Jenny doesn't. You don't. Sheppard doesn't," Ronon ticks off.
"Yes, fine, great. But if we go around kissing and-and-and…stuff, then other people will too. People who don't remember their lovers back home, and will regret it later if—if," he points to Ronon's opening mouth, "we remember. So no," he waves up and down at them, "for at least two weeks. A full month to try and regain our memories, and-and figure out how to do brain scans, isn't too much to ask for."
Ronon bares his teeth, but Jennifer punches him in the side. "He's right," she says with a tinge of sadness, face still red. "It's not that much to ask."
"It is for me," Ronon mumbles.
And Rodney remembers that report, the one dealing with who Ronon was, and how he'd seen his world, his race killed, been forced to run. Is it really fair for Rodney to take a relationship from him, whatever it is? He grimaces, his shoulders drooping. "Jennifer, you're sure-"
"Yeah. I mean, I can't find any proof that I was with anyone before, and I haven't been here that long." She looks up to Ronon, and the flush that crosses her face has nothing to do with embarrassment. "We may have jumped a little ahead, but I'm not really sure how to court. I mean, we can't do those things in the films we've seen."
Which is a good point. Rodney pinches the bridge of his nose. "All right, all right, fine. Just…behind locked doors. And wait two weeks before doing anything in public." He turns on his heel and hurries for the door.
"Thanks, McKay," Ronon yells as Rodney leaves. He can hear the grin in the voice, and makes sure the internal lock is activated before he steps outside. Just in case they decide to pick up where they left off. Hopefully they'll be discrete enough that no one else will pick up on what's going on. It's too early for people to be forming such intense relationships.
A thought that goes out the window when, five days later, he wakes up to John curled up behind him with his arms draped over his chest. It's the first full night's rest he's gotten in a while, the first night where John hasn't woken him because of a nightmare. He clumsily moves his arm so he can touch John's elbow. "John."
"S'nice." Warm breath that smells vaguely of algae gusts across Rodney's neck. The smell is more pungent than he's used to, and he gags just a little. He tries to ignore the way John seems to be…snuggling closer to him, too. "Warm."
"Yes, well, maybe it's time you returned to your own room? I mean, if you can sleep through the night." He absolutely ignores the way his body is reacting to having John right up against him. There's nothing in his journal entries that indicates he and John are anything more than best friends, and he's not about to betray that. Even if that isn't who they are now.
"Naw." John yawns, resting his chin against Rodney's shoulder. "Like it here."
"John," Rodney says slowly, with as much patience as he can, "wake up."
"M'wake, Rodney." Another yawn comes out right beside his ear, along with another gust of algae breath. "You…help."
"Help?"
"Touch." The arms squeeze him. "Kept the nightmares away."
"Well, as nice as that is, this is a little…when I said I'd help-"
The arms tighten a little more. "Please don't send me away," he whispers, voice just a notch above broken. "I just…need this. Please."
Rodney lets out a slow, long breath through his nose, and rubs his hand over John's arm. "All right. A little longer." He feels his stomach flip at John's relieved exhale and tries not to think too much about how dependent John is, or how nice it is to have his near-naked body up against his own.
He also tries to ignore the fact that more and more, he just can't say no to John.
He gets complacent with the status quo, which Rodney will admit is a mistake as alarms blare around the control room. They're in a war zone, and Rodney's gotten used to their insulated society, and it being untouched, ignoring the outside universe. They let their guard down—something he's sure Evan is cursing himself for—as they look at the two vessels in orbit on the screen. Evan got the shields up as soon as the alarm started, and Rodney made a city-wide announcement for civilians to go to their rooms, soldiers to get ready to fight, and command staff to get to the control room.
They're not ready for a confrontation, but like hell they're going down without a fight. "John, there's notes about a chair room, where you can sit down and fire weapons at ships in orbit."
"I know where it is." Ronon clasps John's shoulder, but Teyla stops them from leaving.
"I believe that is the Daedalus and the Apollo. They are both ships from your homeworld."
"We don't know what they're planning. And I don't care what they look like, this city is still in lock-down." Evan points to John and Ronon. "Get to this…chair. But don't fire anything. Yet."
Rodney has to say he agrees, despite Teyla's frown. "It looks like if you don't sit in it, you won't have to worry about accidentally setting anything off."
"Got it." John turns to Ronon. "Let's go."
They're just jogging out when the communications panel chimes. "Atlantis, this is Colonel Ellis of the Apollo. If you've got the Gateroom clear, Colonel Caldwell and I will beam down to discuss the situation. Please lower the shield."
Rodney exchanges a look with Evan, then touches the open channel crystal. "Colonel Ellis, this is Doctor Rodney McKay of the Atlantis expedition. I'm afraid we're under quarantine."
"McKay? Where's Colonel Carter?"
Evan activates the crystal next. "We don't answer to you, Apollo. We're under quarantine, and the shield will remain powered until we've determined who you are."
"Major Lorne, where—Major, a Colonel is of higher rank than a Major. You do answer to me, and to the SGC. I'm ordering you to lower the shields."
"Until we have confirmation of who you are and your intentions, that is a negative. We'll contact you within an hour." He waits a beat. "Any attempt to enter the city or disable our shields will be construed as a hostile action, and we will retaliate with deadly force."
"Major, Doctor-"
"We'll call you within an hour, Colonel," Rodney says, cuts the connection, and points to Miko, the scientist currently sitting at the scanner console. "Take a look at what we've got. Let's make sure they're from Earth."
"Rodney," Teyla says, a little exasperated, "they are."
"No offense," Evan says, "but I'm not just taking your word on it." He moves to stand by Miko and touches his radio. "Sheppard, you in the chair room?"
"Affirmative." There's a pause, then, "I just sit and then think about blowing the ships up, right?"
"That's what the instructions say," Rodney replies. "But don't do anything yet. And if we end up having to fight, don't use up all our ammo. We have a limited supply of the weapons."
"Got it. Just let me know what's going on."
"We will." Rodney looks at Evan, who's watching Miko's screen. "Well?"
"Advanced technology. Weapons, shields. And a lot of storage space." Miko runs her fingers over some of the crystals. "They appear to be carrying a lot of…food. And some data storage. No excessive amount of crew."
"Wouldn't need one if they planned to simply fire from orbit," Evan mutters, but he straightens up. "I don't like it."
Rodney takes in the data on the screen himself. "But," he adds.
"But," Evan sighs, "they match the descriptions of the ships from our missions."
Rodney nods, then looks to Teyla. "Will they try to do anything to the city? If they can transport people in, they can transport people out."
Teyla has a sour look on her face, but she shakes her head. "They may be upset, but they would not do anything to endanger this place, or its people."
Rodney weighs that, and the fact that Ronon's been commenting on how some supplies are depleting from the kitchen and, well, an influx of food might not be so bad. He nods at Evan. Evan nods back and starts deactivating the shield. Rodney takes a deep breath, and touches the crystal again. "Apollo, Colonel Ellis and Colonel Caldwell may come down. However, while we have a cure for the disease, we can't guarantee the safety of-"
Humming and a flash of light deposit two figures at the bottom of the stairs. For a minute Rodney thinks he's made a mistake, but then he sees the clear faceplates of the teal suits, and realizes that the colonels are in some sort of protective clothing. "Doctor McKay," the darker man states, "long-winded as usual. Where are Colonel Carter and Colonel Sheppard?" The voice sounds exactly like the one from the radio, so he deduces this is Colonel Ellis.
"Colonel Carter's-"
"They're both busy," Evan interjects, "making sure systems are running and that we have the ability to blow your ships out of the sky if you make any hostile gestures." He steps a little in front of Rodney. "Insulting Doctor McKay isn't a good way to win us over."
"We'd still like to know where the Colonels are, Major," the other man, Colonel Caldwell, Rodney guesses, says. "They weren't killed by the disease, I hope. The last transmission you sent said fatalities were a possible outcome."
"And why they aren't here to greet us," Ellis adds. "As senior officers, they should be present."
Evan narrows his eyes, but Rodney's not about to let a pissing contest happen in his…Gateroom. "There were no fatalities. The cure Teyla mentioned was successful in treatment." He clears his throat. "Unfortunately, none of our memories have returned." The narrow look Evan shoots him tells Rodney he didn't want that information revealed, but if these are their people, they have a right to know.
"That's why you haven't restored the Stargate," Caldwell says. "You don't know how."
"We've chosen to remain in lockdown," Evan replies evenly. "I thought it was safer, since we're not entirely equipped to handle this galaxy."
"You decided," Ellis says with obvious derision.
"It was a joint decision," Rodney chimes in. The venom in Ellis' eyes actually makes Rodney take a step back, but before he can say anything else, Evan has the stunner out and pointed at Ellis' head. "Major-"
"One more slight to Doctor McKay," Evan says levelly, "and you won't be conscious for the rest of this discussion."
"That's a court martial offense, Major."
Evan's aim doesn't waiver. "Without Doctor McKay's help, we wouldn't be doing as well as we are. So either show him the respect he's earned, or get out of my city."
"Abraham," Caldwell finally says, "just shut up this mission and watch your feet."
Teyla finally steps up from behind them all, still looking upset but trying to hide it as best she can. "Perhaps we should discuss things in the conference room."
"I don't think so," Evan says. "We lost our memories, but we're not going to die. Teyla and Ronon remember everything, but they're two amidst hundreds. We're not about to bow to an outside authority."
Caldwell puts his hands on his hips. "We're not asking you to, Major. We just…we were hoping to arrive and discover you'd cured yourselves. Or at least had some memory of who you were."
"We're just figuring out who we are now," Rodney says as he steps forward, putting a hand on Evan's arm. Evan peeks at him from the corner of his eye, then slowly lowers his weapon. "Some of us are relearning our skills. And some of us are…"
"Adapting," Teyla says, giving him a relieved look. "Quite well, actually. And others…not so much."
"So I take it you don't need, or want, evacuation," Caldwell asks.
Rodney can see Evan wants to raise his weapon again, but the man just tenses instead. "Thank you, but no. We could," he says carefully, "use some supplies. Some of our medicine's been depleted. And our food."
"Of course." The Colonel touches a device on his wrist. "Daedalus, Apollo, begin transport of supplies. At the landing pier."
"Confirmed."
"Major, would you send some marines to inspect and deliver the contents?" Evan nods and lowers his voice as he activates his radio. "Thank you," Rodney says to Caldwell. "So you brought supplies in two ships…because?"
"Worst case, we left them here and evacuated everyone back home. Best case, you'd be oversupplied for a while." Caldwell grimaces. "I guess this is a good medium."
"I guess so."
"We've also received orders to…restore Atlantis, as much as we can."
"No," Evan immediately says.
"I know you're paranoid, Major-"
"We're-"
"Hey!" Rodney yells. "Last I checked, I was in charge." Evan glowers, but backs down. To Caldwell, he says, "While it's a generous offer, until there's a way to restore memories too, I'm keeping us quarantined." He can tell that Ellis wants to say something, and is struggling to keep quiet. "The people of Pegasus are pretty well protected, but this virus is too prolific to risk sending it through the Stargate. We're not even sure your hazard suits are effective."
Caldwell huffs, but gives him an acknowledging nod. "One of us will remain in orbit, but the other needs to report back to Earth. And we'd like someone to accompany us."
"I just said-"
"We have stasis pods able to keep people quarantined. And the medical facilities back home have greater resources. They may find a way to unblock your memories."
"Venting the enchuri plant through your systems should immunize your crew," Teyla says. "At the very least, it will reduce the chance of the disease striking your people. Though I wouldn't recommend landing, in case it is not…entirely effective."
Caldwell nods. "So who would you send?"
Rodney frowns, not knowing the answer to that. "How long will it take to finish transporting down all the supplies?" he asks instead.
"About three hours from both ships."
"It'll take at least that long for my men to finish checking it over," Evan says tensely. "Make sure it's what they say it is. And you," he points to Ellis, "you will be the ship that returns to Earth."
Rodney sighs, but can't say he argues with Evan on that. "We need to discuss this. Figure out who to send. We'll contact you in…six hours. That should be long enough to check the cargo and flush the enchuri through your systems, right?"
"You're asking?" Caldwell says, surprised, then pulls himself together. "Right, sorry. I…yes, that sounds fair." He nods to Rodney, then Evan and Teyla. "We'll await your call." He touches his wrist again. "Apollo, we're ready for pick-up." Another flash of light, and the tension in the room diminishes tenfold.
Rodney shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to Evan. "Thank you for the defense, but in the future-"
"You represent Atlantis. By insulting you, he was insulting us all."
Which is flattering, but, "Next time, let's not exacerbate the problem."
"I'm not going to say sorry-"
"In this case, Major," Rodney snaps, "you say 'yes sir', because this is an order."
Evan grinds his teeth, but he gives a sharp nod. "Yes sir."
Rodney nods back. "Now check on the cargo. Start distribution right after scanning. Then gather the senior group." Evan salutes and goes to execute the orders. Rodney knows there's going to be some fallout from this, but it had to be done. He turns his attention to Teyla. "Thank you, for trying to be a peacemaker."
The sour look is back on her face. It makes Rodney feel vaguely guilty. "I wished the situation could have been handled differently."
"I know, me too." He lets out a sigh, then nods up the stairs. "You should tell Jennifer to send the rest of the enchuri to the ships. Give the Colonels the antidote just in case. Then get a list of the manifest and join me in the conference room. We need to figure out who we're sending back." He shuts his eyes for a minute, dreading having to do that.
So he's surprised when two hands clasp his head and his eyes snap open in time to see Teyla's head leaning towards his. Their foreheads touch, and then she's letting him go. "Um, thanks?"
"You are a good leader. Never forget that." She steps back and heads for the transporter, sporting a small smile.
Rodney stares after her, and then his radio clicks to life. "Um, guys?" John's voice says in his ear. "Someone want to tell us if we're shooting or not? Ronon's starting to get hungry."
They're down to twelve candidates, most of whom haven't assimilated and keep suffering attacks of not being on Earth, when Samantha shakes her head. "We can't send any of them."
"They're not exactly much use here," Evan spits out. The two ships in orbit are keeping him on edge in a way eerily similar to the time just after they were cured.
"Not everyone can adjust as well you, Major." Jennifer bites back, glowering.
"Maybe if I had someone to f-"
"Whoa!" Rodney shouts. "Enough! We've got fifteen minutes and I'm not going to have you two arguing! If you can't be together I'll confine you both!" The intensity of their glares diminishes, but Rodney can feel the tension still simmering in the atmosphere. "Samantha, why can't we send them?"
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "They're all suffering from attacks. While being on Earth may help them, the trip back could exacerbate the problem. It may even leave them unable to assist in finding a cure once they get there." She pushes the tablet away from her. "We're looking at this wrong. We need to send someone healthy, someone who can contribute to examining the memory problem."
"Doctor Keller's pretty intimate with the case," Evan says levelly, not breaking eye-contact with Jennifer.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she snarls.
"And it's irrelevant. We need her. She's the closest thing we've got to a doctor. Unless you want to invite medical staff down from one of the ships." Evan finally sits back, seething, but gives Rodney a look that says 'no way' to that. "Maybe one of the nurses."
"I was thinking more along the lines of me," Samantha interrupts. Silence meets her pronouncement. "I'm apparently very familiar with the SGC. I've been there longer than everyone else. Maybe I'll recognize something there."
"It's generous, but we need you here," Rodney says carefully. "You're our expert on the generators. And we're still trying to fix the Stargate."
"I'm also the leader of this expedition." She folds her hands together on the table. "You're in charge now, but…I can't ask any of you to take a treatment that I haven't taken myself."
"You think I don't feel-"
"She's right," Evan interrupts Rodney. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you take on that responsibility. As the original leader, the responsibility lies with her."
"Nice to know you'd throw me to the wolves, Major," John says from his slouch, still looking over his tablet.
Evan makes an undecipherable noise from his throat. "No offense, sir, but it's a different scenario. You…I wouldn't ask that of you."
"Just of our civilians."
"Colonel Carter isn't a civilian," Evan says levelly.
Rodney turns to Teyla, but like Ronon, she's being very careful to mask her feelings. "What do you think?"
She remains silent for a minute, then shakes her head. "It is not a decision to take lightly." Which is absolutely no help. "However, we now have experts in orbit. And the SGC will treat Colonel Carter with the utmost respect, no matter what she remembers."
"And you can't say that for anyone else on this expedition," Rodney probes.
"I…cannot. Your world attributes strange value to some persons." She exchanges a knowing glance with Ronon that unsettles Rodney's stomach. What kind of crap, he wonders, did the SGC put them through? "I believe Samantha may be the safest choice, as well as the best candidate."
Evan shuts down his computer with a jerk of his thumb. "I'm not exactly liking this SGC. First they send someone who despises McKay, and now they don't treat us with the same respect as their own people."
"Or we're getting a skewed perspective." He gives Teyla an apologetic glance. "You are, technically, aliens. Maybe you see things through a different light, but we…understand the value system." She bows her head, but by the look in her eyes, he can tell she doesn't believe him. He turns back to Samantha. "You're sure you want to do this?"
"I think it's what's best." She smiles warmly. "Radek can take care of the generators for a while." Rodney remembers walking in on them a few nights ago, the two of them discussing ways to increase power flow efficiency while scanning crystals, trying to discover the one that would fix the Stargate. Radek vanished shortly after Rodney's arrival, but obviously, they've been partners in the lab for at least a week.
Of course, considering Radek's recent history, he won't be pleased with soldiers taking Samantha away. Even if it is to find a cure. "Any objections?" is what he asks the group. John looks like he's about to raise his hand, but after looking around the room, just shifts in his seat. "All right. I'll radio the Apollo. They said they have quarantine arrangements to transport you into." He stands up to dismiss the meeting.
She leans over to give him a hug. "I'll see you when I get back, Rodney."
Rodney just hopes she's coming back. The SGC may be their employers, but Evan's right, they haven't made themselves very amiable since arriving, other than bringing supplies. Add in Teyla's observations, and he doesn't feel comfortable letting Samantha go, wouldn't feel good letting anyone go back to Earth.
He isn't the only one who feels that way, he finds out that night. "You know, I'm pretty sure we talked about you returning to your own room over a week ago."
John won't be swayed, even as he's getting undressed to climb into Rodney's bed. "I don't trust them, Rodney. I don't feel right letting any of our people go back to this Earth." He throws his shirt to the ground. "This is home. If they want to run scans, to try and cure us, they should do it here."
Rodney sighs and sits against his headboard, arms crossed. "There's no real hostility between this expedition and the SGC. None in the reports that I can find. And we have to extend some sort of olive branch, something to keep them from storming the place."
"We have shields-"
"And limited power to run them." Rodney grabs John's arm as he tries to balance while kicking off his pants. "What's this about? You…we all knew we couldn't stay in our isolated little world."
John jerks around and gives him an intense stare. "Did we? Did we really?"
Rodney feels his shoulders droop. "Fine. So none of us were ready for this."
John grunts, climbs over Rodney, and settles next to him, also leaning against the headboard. "Maybe I don't want to rejoin the universe." He glances at Rodney out of the corner of his eye. "Do you think they'll let us opt-out of any treatment they come up with?"
"Why would we want-" Rodney pauses, notes the tension in John's back. "John," he reaches out to touch his shoulder, "you do want to remember, right?"
John shrugs the hand off. "Maybe I don't."
"You can't be-"
"I don't like who I was! I couldn't even get through the reports!" He lets out a shuddering breath. "I don't want to go back, Rodney. I like not having the guilt of all those deaths, of not having to worry about everyone's well-being." His gaze moves to the window. "Would you even let me stay here if I didn't need your help?"
"You don't need my help. You can sleep fine through the night. You just like-" Rodney shut his mouth with an audible click. "John, things won't change just because we get our memories back." At John's skeptical look, Rodney ducks his head. "Okay, yes, so I'll go back to working in the lab and you'll go back to being the head of the military. But," he waves his hand between them, "we won't change. We'll still be best friends."
"Well maybe I want more than best friends." John flings his arm towards the door. "Ronon and I are best friends, and he made me sleep on the floor. But you," he punches the mattress lightly, "you just bring me in the bed. You let me roll against you and you haven't kicked me out-"
"Not for lack of trying," Rodney points out.
"-and maybe I've been trying to tell you I feel…something." His ears turn red at that. "And if we get our memories back, if you remember you and I remember me, then this, all of this could go away because that's not who we were. Not what we did. And I—I don't want that. I like this," he says fiercely. "I don't want it to vanish."
Rodney lets John's breathing calm down a little, rubbing the spot between the man's shoulder blades. "You feel something?"
John's ears positively glow, and he shoots Rodney a narrow look. "The nightmares have been gone for four days. And I keep hugging you at night. And I brought you that jell-o stuff you like."
And, okay, Rodney admits that he can be a little oblivious—he totally didn't see the Ronon and Jennifer thing coming—but even he should've picked up on this. It's not like his own body wasn't sending him messages. "I was trying to do the honorable thing. Not take advantage of you while you were vulnerable."
"I'm past it, Rodney." John shifts a little closer to him. "So does this mean you don't…that we could do what Ronon and Jennifer get up to?"
Rodney let his head fall against the headboard. "Does everyone know about them?"
"Yeah. Ronon's sort of a screamer."
"Way too much information." Rodney looks towards the ceiling for a minute, then lets his arm fall from behind John's back to land on his leg. "I can't deny that I've thought-" John cuts him off by rolling over and kissing him. Forceful, but the fingers on his cheek are hesitant, just barely stroking him. John keeps them like that for a minute, two, and then he pulls away, just a bit. "You might regret it. Later."
John smiles, brilliant and warm and practically straddles Rodney to get better access for their next kiss. "No, I'm not," a brief kiss, "I'm not taking any cure they find. I'm not losing this. Not for that…that guy I was before."
Rodney wants to argue, but instead he sighs, wrapping his hands around John's neck. He should be better than this, above it, but it's John, and he's just not good at denying him anything. Even the right to destroy his past identity.
The Daedalus stays in synchronous orbit, doing daily check-ins, and sending polite inquiries about everyone's condition and what they're learning now. Rodney figures there's no harm in that, save for filtering out any private proclivities. It's not the SGC's business who he or Jennifer or anyone has sex with. Evan agrees with him, his eyes straying to both Miko and Chuck as he says so.
Really, really oblivious. John just laughs when Rodney tells him that night, before they discover how good it can feel having someone's mouth around their dick.
Radek has taken over Samantha's role in the labs, though in a unique method of running things. Rather than working with the scientists, he seems to come out at night, continue his work with the crystals and the generators, then leaves notes around the entire lab for the day shift. It's unorthodox, but the one time Rodney sees Radek, the man appears unhappy, and shoots him a disgusted look.
The next day, Rodney receives an email that says: "There were other choices." Rodney would email back his reasons and logic, but decides to just leave it. It's a true statement. Samantha volunteered, but Rodney didn't have to let her go. Didn't have to let anyone go. Except that there's a part of him, deep down, that does want the cure. He doesn't miss who he was, not so much, but he and the rest of the expedition are living half an existence. Sitting watching films trying to understand their own society isn't life. Nor is barely comprehending the city they call home.
It was for the best, he tells himself every day, mentally counting the days Samantha's been gone. It's a three week journey from Pegasus to Earth. At the earliest they'll hear something in six, seven weeks. Which John thinks isn't nearly long enough, but Rodney thinks will leave his insides chewed up and twisted.
So he's both excited and terrified when, three weeks in, the Apollo exits hyperspace and takes up orbit beside the Daedalus. "Colonel Caldwell, is everything okay?" Rodney radios up to the ships. Did something happen to Samantha? is there in his tone, but he doesn't want to say it over the radio.
"Everything's fine Doctor McKay. Colonel Carter wants to transport down with Doctor Jackson and Colonel Mitchell. They have the cure."
Rodney feels John stiffen at the pronouncement, but ignores it. "Go ahead and send them to the…Gateroom."
Hum, light, and there's Samantha, smiling. Under one arm is an innocuous square box, and she waves as she spots them. Rodney waves back, and looks over the other two men with her. He's guessing the one with glasses is Doctor Jackson, since he's looking around the place whereas the other man seems to be doing more of a threat assessment. "That was a short trip."
Samantha laughs and starts up the stairs. "The Apollo brought me to the Midway station, and I took the Stargate to Earth. Cut the whole trip in half." She looks around the control room. "Looks like you've managed to keep things running pretty smoothly." She slaps him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Rodney. I couldn't have done it without you."
"Yes, well…you're welcome. I hope I lived up to your expectations." Samantha looks more professional. Dressed in the full uniform, jacket on and zipped up, hair tucked into a bun, and her face…she looks older, far older than she did from when she left. She's giving him an affectionate look, but not the adoring, friendly one she's had for weeks now.
"So you found an antidote?" John tries for nonchalant, but Rodney's pretty sure everyone picks up on how uncomfortable he is asking.
"Actually," Doctor Jackson says, bounding up beside Samantha, "the disease creates a buildup of chemicals similar to a pesticide we encountered about seven years ago." He tilts his head to look at the screens behind them. "Huh. You're looking through the cultural database?"
Evan moves to block Jackson's view. "You encountered this disease before?"
Samantha shakes her head. "Not quite, Major. Dargol, which is what the chemical was called, built up in the natives' minds, and blocked their ability to remember, though they could form new memories."
Jennifer, catching the tail end of the statement as she approaches, nods. "That sounds familiar."
"So when they examined my brain, they found a similar chemical buildup. One injection later, and a massive headache, it all came back."
"One shot, huh," Evan says. "So that's one day. Maybe two. What kept you?"
She shakes the box at him. "Had to develop a way to deliver the solvent by air. I install this into the air filtration system using the program Rodney developed to deliver the last cure, and we should all be back to normal by the end of the day."
Rodney nods, keeping an eye on Colonel Mitchell, who's now walking circles in front of the Stargate. "That's great news Samantha. However, we have a…" He hesitates, deliberately not looking at John, "There are some who have expressed an interest in not receiving the treatment."
Despite his avoidance, Samantha's gaze zeroes in on John. Obviously she's retained her memory of the last few weeks. "Well, I'm sure we could discuss…alternatives. But I'd like to get to work as soon as possible. The faster we all remember, the faster we can catch up with the galaxy."
He nods again. "Major Lorne, why don't you escort Samantha, Doctor Jackson and the Colonel to the infirmary. Jennifer should look over the cure." Jennifer nods and holds out her hand for the gray box. "I'll talk with…those that might not want the treatment. In private." The look Samantha gives him tells him she knows there's only one hold out. "We'll be fast, I promise."
"All right." She looks over her shoulder, and Mitchell jogs up to them. "Just let me know when you're ready for me to start." She touches his arm, and then the whole group leaves.
Rodney waits until they're at the transporter before looking at John. "Can you have those people I was talking about meet in Evan's old office in five minutes?"
"No problem." John doesn't look at Rodney's face as he heads down the stairs towards the hallway, to take the long way to the office.
Rodney sighs, then touches his radio. "Evan?"
"Lorne here."
He takes a deep breath. John'll probably hate him forever for this. "If Jennifer clears the treatment, have Samantha install and distribute it."
There's a heavy silence on the other end of the line. "What about those people you were talking about?"
"It's the right thing." He waits a beat. "Executive decision, on behalf of the whole expedition. Get your marines to round everyone up and get them to their rooms. Let's have them wake up in familiar surroundings."
"Understood, sir." The line goes dead for a moment. "In case I don't say it later, you were a good expedition head."
"And you were an excellent military leader." He deactivates his radio and turns around. "Chuck, Miko. No one else is to be in the control room for a few hours. You two hold down the fort." Chuck nods. Miko, ever the professional, gives him a thumbs up without looking up from her screen. Taking a deep breath, Rodney walks towards the Major's ex-office.
John is leaning back against the desk, palms flat against the surface, when Rodney gets there. "I can wear one of those hazard suits." Rodney slides his hand over the door controls and makes sure to lock them. "Rodney, I'm not taking the antidote." Rodney strides forward. "I don't want-" He grabs John's shirt and pulls him forward for a demanding kiss.
Even with her diminished knowledge, Rodney estimates Jennifer will clear Samantha's cure within an hour. Two at the outside. With the program already within the system, it won't take more than twenty minutes for Samantha to install the solvent and get it dispensed throughout the city. He's going to take one last moment with John, before it's over, before he's cured and hates Rodney either for letting this thing happen between them, or for lying and curing him when he didn't want it.
"Rodney," John pants, "we—I need to-"
"Jennifer's going to take at least three hours. I want—we'll figure it out after-"
"Okay, yes, yes." And then John's fumbling with the buttons on Rodney's pants and Rodney ignores the guilty part of his mind telling him this is wrong.
It's for his own good, he tells himself. It has to be done.
Forty minutes later, they're both lying on the floor, John wrapped around Rodney, their pants tangled around their ankles and Rodney's shirt is definitely not public presentable now. He rubs his hand back and forth across John's knuckles, his stomach gnawing with more than hunger. "That was good," John says snuffling into his neck.
"I'm glad."
"I," John lets out a heavy breath, "I don't want the cure. Don't make me lose this, Rodney." Rodney feels himself stiffen up, then slowly extricates himself from John's grasp. "Rodney? I didn't…what? Why are you-"
"I radioed Evan. Samantha should have the antidote hooked up and venting the system by now." A small lie, but a necessary one.
"You what?!" John's tone is half angry, half terrified. "I told you-"
"They never would've let you remain," he blurts. "If you…you're useless, as you are." He catches a flash of hurt cross John's face. "That's not—not to me! John, you're…you're something." He swallows. "But if you don't remember who you are, they would insist that you leave. You're…they'd call you a drain on resources."
"So you just decided what was best for me. Because you know what's best for everyone." He yanks up his pants. "Well thanks a lot. I thought what we had-"
Rodney pulls his own clothes back on. "I'm being selfish, okay!" John stills at that. "I don't want you to go. And I know—I know, John—that they'd take you away. And I…didn't want you to go."
"So this was, what, goodbye sex? A stalling tactic?" John scowls at him. "It was, wasn't it. You son of a-"
"I'm in charge of everyone's wellbeing, and that includes you," Rodney says miserably. "Even if it means you don't like my choices."
"I could just leave. Just because I remember doesn't mean I'll want to stay here with someone who-who lied and used our," he waves between them, "to keep me occupied and give me medication against my will."
Rodney sucks in a breath. "I'm betting that you won't." He glances up from under his eyelashes. "You love this city. You won't leave."
"That's a big gamble."
Rodney steps forward, heading for the desk. "I'm hoping you'll forgive me when you remember."
John lets out a truly ugly snort. "Go drink some orange juice." He slams his shoulder against Rodney on his way to the door.
Rodney moves behind the desk and pulls open a drawer as John deactivates the lock. "I'm really sorry, John."
John doesn't even look back. "Drop dead," he says into the hallway.
Hating himself a little more, Rodney pulls out Evan's emergency stunner and shoots John. The man lets out a strangled sound before collapsing face first on the floor. Putting it away, Rodney goes across the room and, grabbing John's feet, drags him back into the office. He tries to make him comfortable, then he leaves the office and touches his radio. "Major, how's it going?"
"Jennifer just cleared the antidote. Colonel Carter should have it dispensed in another thirty."
"All right. Tell your men to get comfortable and wait for the antidote to kick in."
"Will do." A hesitation. "Are you all right? You sound a little…"
"I'll be fine." He sucks in a deep breath. "But avoid your previous office. Colonel Sheppard is…not happy with what's going to happen."
"I see." And on some level, Evan probably does. "Will you be there?"
"No. I'm going to my lab. Teyla told me I was most familiar with it. I figure it'll be the most comfortable place for me to…remember."
"All right. Talk to you in an hour or two, sir."
"Bye, Evan." He deactivates his radio and walks to the transporter. Somehow, even knowing he's the cause, Rodney's not entirely thrilled to be regaining his memories. He has a feeling that what he's losing now will hurt him as much as it was losing his memories the first time. "Blank slates," he mutters to the map of Atlantis in the transporter, then presses his destination.
It doesn't come back in a flood, or flash, or in any dramatic form that Rodney witnessed in the movies they've seen in the last few weeks. He's looking at the white board, at one of Radek's unfinished power equations, and decides to finish it. And then he sees an error in one of the other equations, and before he knows it, he's sitting in front of three computer screens and running simulations and power differentials before it hits him: he knows this stuff. He remembers this stuff.
And now that he knows he's cured, he flips through his memories, reviewing math and astrophysics and the Ancient alphabet and can't keep the stupid grin off his face. Before, remembering was so mundane, so simple for him to do. But now, now it's complicated and beautiful and he plans to spend at least an hour every day appreciating the recall function in his brain. It's almost enough for him to believe in a God, if aliens hadn't already blown that theory out of the water.
And then Doctor Jackson—Daniel! His name is Daniel! And he didn't have to tell you!—sticks his head in and Rodney points at him and says, "Get the hell out of my lab and start translating those noted files relating to zero point energy! I've got six weeks of maintenance to catch up on!"
Daniel rolls his eyes and yells, "Yeah, he's back to normal," before jogging down the hall. Rodney ignores him and starts system checks. Database integrity, waste system efficiency, power consumption…six, almost seven weeks of winging it just isn't good enough. He starts a list on his tablet, what needs working on most importantly, which scientists to assign. There's just so much to do.
Which means it takes Lorne nearly five minutes to grab his attention. "-don't want to repeat the hallway, but I will if I have to. Doc?"
"Yes, what? Who? Major." Rodney squints at him. "Did you just reference what we-" his cheeks start glowing. "Right, so, um. We're okay with that, right?"
Lorne shuffles his feet. "Yeah. No problem, Doc. Circumstances and stuff."
"Yes, so articulate. I'm glad they teach things like communication in the military." Lorne snorts at him. "So what do you want?"
"Colonel Carter's sending senior staff to bed."
"What?! Forget it. There's too much-"
"That can wait for tomorrow. Her words. She knows you've been down here working for the past few hours. She wants you fully awake for the status meeting later today."
"What today? It's only-" Lorne holds up his chronometer, "-two. Right." He looks at the computer screens. "I guess it can wait until tomorrow afternoon."
"It's an evening meeting." He shrugs. "I think she thinks we worked a little hard, wants to give us a chance to recuperate."
"I guess a little sleep isn't a bad idea." His stomach rumbles, so he pulls a power bar from his desk. "Any problems?"
Lorne shakes his head. "Everyone that was having attacks calmed down after they remembered. No adverse reactions, no regression. SG-1 saved the day again."
Rodney snorts and shuts down the systems as he takes a bite of the bar. "I'd say we were pretty instrumental in saving this place. SG-1 just gets the glory."
"We did make a good team, didn't we."
"Once we got past all that awkwardness. Oh, in case I didn't say it, thanks for threatening Ellis."
Lorne winces. "Yeah. He's still pissed about that."
"Let him be. If I remembered then what I remember now…"
"Yeah, yeah." Lorne waits until Rodney's almost out the door before saying, "So, have you seen the Colonel yet?"
Rodney feels his spine stiffen. "Not yet."
"Funny thing, someone stunned him in his office. And he won't say who that someone is or why they did it."
"Yes, very funny, ha ha." Rodney waits until they're in the hallway. "You seen Chuck or Miko yet?"
Lorne's neck flushes red. "You play dirty, Doc."
"You don't win by following the rules. Not in this galaxy." He hesitates, then slaps Lorne on the back. "Good work, Major. I'll see you at tomorrow's meeting."
"You too, Doc. And thanks," he moves his shoulders in a semi-shrug, "for everything you did. Atlantis wasn't bad under you."
Rodney wants to say something smug, something about how it was obvious how good things could be under him. Except it's not obvious, and now that he remembers who he is, he can see where he would've gone wrong, what personnel disasters he would've made. Because he was stripped of who he was, he made a good leader. It's not the most comforting thought in the world, but he gives Lorne a crooked smile nonetheless. "It wasn't, was it."
Lorne gives him a brief salute, then turns and walks away as the transporter doors close on Rodney. He's always known he wasn't the most…charismatic leader, or even the best person for the job diplomatically. But he got things done. Now he knows he can get the same results without the bite.
Unsettling doesn't even begin to cover his feelings. He sighs and pushes the location for his quarters, wishing that Heightmeyer was still here, or at least that the SGC had been thoughtful enough to send the replacement along with Sam and Daniel. There's a lot he'd like to talk about with someone, mental observations he now can't help making of his success over the last few months, and the successes of his life.
"Or," he mutters as he opens the door to his room, "about how disorienting this moment is." He remembers exactly what his room should look like, with the books and the hanging diplomas and the unmade bed with pristine white sheets. He also remembers that he made the room sterile, with his diplomas packed away and his books turned around and his unwashed filthy sheets tucked down with hospital corners.
Rodney knows for a fact he didn't make it, but that's a thought he's just…pushing out of his mind for the moment. He's not going to get any sleep if he keeps reflecting on his time as an amnesiac. Actually, he decides, he won't get any sleep until he pulls out his picture of Starbuck. The one of Jeannie and Madison can wait for tomorrow, and even his diplomas, but he had the cat for almost twenty years, and it's a face he's used to waking up to in the morning.
Until recently, his treacherous mind reminds him, but he quashes that voice, digs out the picture from the closet, and gets ready to sleep. There's a part of him looking forward to his dreams making sense again.
A knock on the door rouses Rodney from his slumber. A loud knock. He glares at his clock, revealing it's only 3:30 in the morning. "What simpleton knocks when there's a chime?" he grumbles as he sits up, only to let out an unmanly yelp as he realizes the knock came from inside the room. From John, who's looking sheepish, shy, and a bit ill, his fist resting against the metal door.
It takes a lot for Rodney not to yank up the sheet and cover his chest, even though he's wearing a shirt. Sometimes his mind is just…irrational. Especially when it comes to Sheppard—John… "God damn it," he hisses. This isn't going to be easy. All the emotional walls are back.
John takes a step forward, stops, stares, then bounces his arm limply against his side, his knocking fist unclenching, then clenching again. Rodney tries to meet his eyes, but he's not having much success. Partly because John is evading his look, and party because Rodney himself is afraid to make full contact. He's not sure if it's because of what he'll see…or what he won't.
John finally clears his throat. "I, uh, left my clothes here." He's staring very hard at the open bathroom door, ears flushing in the moonlight.
Right. That time in the tub where Rodney…well, aquatic blowjobs wasn't one of his better ideas, in terms of executing a plan in real life, but it certainly was creative. Rodney feels his face heat up. "Right, um, but not all of them?"
"And my toothbrush," John continues, this time staring at the wall next to the bathroom door.
Rodney finally settles on staring at John's neck. "Uh huh." It's a good neck. Warm and pleasant, and susceptible to being ticklish when a tongue is applied. He's pretty sure his entire chest is blushing now.
John takes a deep breath. "And, uh, my favorite pillow."
Rodney shuts his eyes and reaches up to rub them with the heels of his hands. This is…he's not sure what this is. "Sheppard-"
"I liked it when you called me John."
Rodney takes his hands away and blinks, finally making eye contact with Shep—John. The blush has spread from the man's ears and down the sides of his face. "I…okay. I can call you John."
John rocks back on his heels and lets out something between a laugh and a desperate cry. "That's not—I'm not—God," he spins on his foot and takes one step towards the wall, his right hand reaching up to rub at the back of his head while his left knocks on the door once. He turns around again and takes five swift steps forward so he's looming over Rodney.
Rodney tilts his head back so he can maintain visual contact. He juts out his chin out of habit, like when he's trying to stare down Ronon.
John's arms fall to the side again. "I suck at this."
There's only two ways to respond to that in Rodney's mind, so he goes with the honest one. "Yes, you do."
That gets a chuckle out of John, and then the man is sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees and face in his hands. "This is why I got divorced. Communication issues."
"I always thought you were more of an 'actions speak louder' man, myself," Rodney states after a minute. It's the most honest answer he can give. He'll call John out about the whole 'married' thing when he isn't running on less than two hours of sleep.
John glances at him from the corner of his eye, then straightens his back and takes a deep, confident breath. "Right, then." Before Rodney can move, John practically leaps at him, and presses their lips together in a very, very familiar way.
Rodney blinks once, twice, then shuts his eyes and kisses John back because…well, because it's good. What they had was good. And if John's willing to kiss him now, after what he did to him earlier…
John breaks it off before either of them are out of breath, and Rodney feels a bit of smug satisfaction that John's flushing as much as Rodney feels he is. "It was, this was," he moves his hand between their two torsos, eyebrows twitching slightly as he tries to spit something out. His shoulders slump for a moment, and then he brightens a bit and says, "You were my Doctor."
It's the most sincere and utterly pathetic declaration of love Rodney's ever heard, and since he's made most of those declarations in his life, he thinks that's saying something. He gives John some points for tapping into his geek side, but really they could do better. They did do better, back when they didn't remember anything. Back when they were both just blank slates, with no emotional hang-ups or baggage lurking around the corner.
Which is probably why he just rolls his eyes in response and wraps his hand around John's neck, muttering, "Kirk" just before pulling John down with him for some serious make-out time.
"It would've been embarrassing," Rodney croaks out the next morning, "if you hadn't fallen asleep before me." John laughs low and soft, one arm around Rodney's waist, their legs intertwined. It'd be far more romantic, in Rodney's opinion, if they were A, both under the sheet and B, not clothed. As it stands, he's pretty sure they're ridiculously tangled in his sheets.
"Next time," John says, nuzzling Rodney's neck, "we should try and do more than kiss."
"Next time," Rodney says as he tilts his head to the side, "we won't be desperate for sleep and fail to stay awake for more than five minutes after we hit the bed."
John hums, then pulls back. "Probably wishful thinking."
Thinking of the Wraith, and Asurans, and the insane people in both galaxies, Rodney lets out a sigh. "Yeah, probably."
John shifts his hips in a meaningful way. "We have some time now." He's wearing a sexy grin, but there's a hint of bashfulness in the way he ducks his head and looks at Rodney through his lashes.
"Well," Rodney glances over John to peek at the clock, "Jesus!" He practically shoves John off the mattress as he struggles to get out of the sheets. "We have a meeting in twenty minutes!"
Clinging to the mattress edge, John tries to waggle his eyebrows. "I think we're good enough to have ten minutes to spare-"
Rodney doesn't even need to look to know his pillow hit the mark. Not with the satisfying thump John makes as he falls to the floor.
John doesn't stop by his quarters, which means he's still wearing wrinkled, slightly smelly clothes as they walk through the halls. Rodney would worry about it, but about half the population is in a similarly rumpled state. The laundry machines were never high on our priorities. Considering how clothes were traded over the last couple months, he's willing to bet there'll be a few embarrassing give-backs happening over the next week or so.
John brushes his shoulder against Rodney's, and smirks at him as they go up the stairs past the control room. Four marines are trying to get Lorne's desk out of Carter's office, and Chuck is just scratching his head, like he doesn't remember how he got it in there in the first place. Rodney feels his own mouth curl up in a grin, and he wonders how he never realized they had this. They've always had this.
John just cocks his head, like he knows exactly what he's thinking, and offers him a little shrug. "I never saw it either."
Rodney just rolls his eyes as he takes his usual seat to the right of the head of the table. "We're both idiots." John takes the chair right next to him, eyebrows raised. "What? I may be a genius, but not when it comes to…" He waggles his fingers a bit, trying to admit his flaw without actually saying it. But he knows John gets it, and John scoots his chair closer so their shoulders are touching once again.
Rodney lets out a contented sigh and opens his laptop. They're still about five minutes early, and even Sam hasn't shown up yet. He runs his fingers over the keys, rememorizing the texture, the pressure, even the sound of them. He's missed computers. He's missed math. Hell, he's missed everything about his job. Nonetheless, he can't help but give the unofficial command chair a wistful glance.
"You weren't bad," John says softly, tone honest. "Maybe one of the best under pressure I've had."
Rodney glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "You didn't mind patrolling? Giving it all up to Lorne?"
John shifts in his chair, as if he's uncomfortable, but his foot rubs against Rodney's. "You took care of us. Of me." He ducks his head, ears starting to flush. "You knew what I needed. It was…" He struggles a bit, as if he's choking on his next words.
They really are terrible at this, Rodney thinks. Really, really terrible. It makes them sort of perfect for each other.
John finally sighs, leaning back in his seat. "Not having any responsibilities felt good," he lets out almost quietly. His eyes are downcast, and to Rodney it looks like John is being weighed down by the guilt of his admission.
Rodney opens his mouth to tell him he's a moron and that he deserves a break like everyone else, but that's when Ronon, Sam, and everyone else arrive. Sam and Lorne look surprised to see them early, and Rodney shuts his mouth so that he can give them a sufficient glare at their presumption. He has learned a thing or two after his time in command. Having now dealt with tardiness in meetings, he's going to try and be more punctual, even if half of them are a waste of his very valuable time.
Teyla looks vibrant, as if she has a little glow, despite the trepidation in her eyes. Pregnancy is good for her, but Rodney makes a mental note to up his priorities from city maintenance to getting the Stargate up and running again. She needs to see her people as soon as possible.
Ronon and Keller are sitting together at the table, which is a major change in positioning. Usually medical sits farther down from them, but obviously getting their memories back hasn't affected their relationship. It does cause Rodney a moment to think back to worrying about Katie Brown, and wonder if he should check on her. Except she and Parrish got together about two weeks ago, and she hasn't sought him out despite the restoration of their memories.
Rodney isn't really inclined to give up what he now has, either. Still, he should at least send her an email, though maybe a quick visit to botany would be better. That way Teyla won't give him disappointed stares when she finds out. And she would find out. There's nothing on the gossip mill that escapes her notice, and he still doesn't know how.
Radek looks…well, either he didn't get Carter's edict to go to sleep last night, or he got stuck in a ventilation shaft. Or perhaps he slept in a ventilation shaft. Considering his hiding capabilities, Rodney wouldn't dismiss that scenario. As if he can sense Rodney's thoughts, Radek gives him a dirty glare, one that promises stealing of coffee and not filtering out idiotic project requests. Rodney just snorts silently. He can handle anything the Czech can dish out.
Sam looks as if she'd never lost her memory, never gave up the command of the city. She's looking from her tablet to Lorne, who's standing over her shoulder, talking quietly. When they notice Rodney watching, Sam just smiles brightly and Lorne takes his seat. He looks a little wistful, but a quick glance to Sheppard has him putting on his 'I'm a good little soldier' face. Rodney nudges John's foot at causing that, and John nudges back. For some reason, it makes Rodney flush, and he ducks his head, even as he feels John's smirk.
"Well, I hope everyone got a good night's rest," Sam starts out with. Zelenka glowers and Jennifer turns bright red as Ronon just sits back and grins, but otherwise there's a lot of nods at the question. Rodney goes through the lab checklist on his tablet he started last night. "Good. First off, Rodney, I'd like to thank you for," she clears her throat, "well, everything."
Rodney spends a moment preening, but only a moment. "It wasn't just me." He makes eye contact with Lorne, then looks around the room. "I just…helped hold things together." They all give him incredulous looks at the declaration, especially Zelenka. Rodney bristles. "What, I can't grow and learn from this? I'm the smartest man in two galaxies! I can learn to be humble and share credit!" He kicks Sheppard when he sees the man holding back a laugh.
Teyla offers him a smile. "We are just proud of how well you dealt with the situation, Rodney. And that you have gained something positive from the experience."
"We all did," Lorne says seriously, "at least, we all learned something about ourselves when all the other…stuff is stripped away."
He won't meet anyone's eyes at that. Jennifer looks a little guilty, undoubtedly recalling their first days without memories. Rodney glances around, and catches that everyone is thinking back to then, to what they were like. Even Teyla seems a little lost. Only Ronon meets his gaze, shrugging about it all. He'd probably learned all he wanted about himself from years on the run from the Wraith.
Sam finally clears her throat. "No one blames you, Major. You were…we were all coping as best we could." She pointedly doesn't look at John as she says it. "Rodney, were there any issues with those who…didn't want to receive the treatment?"
Rodney tenses, because he and John hadn't discussed that, hadn't even really referenced it. He'd basically shoved pills down Sheppard's throat, forced him to take medication. As a Canadian he should be horrified, even the US's backwards moral stance didn't approve of that. He'd drugged John for his own selfish reasons, and with the spotlight on him, he finds himself struggling to answer.
"He was able to talk them out of it," John says nonchalantly. "He made them understand that they'd be sent back to Earth, unable to remain here. And forced between a world they couldn't remember and a city they at least recognized…" He shrugs, slinking down in his chair. "They weren't happy, but when their memories returned they…if they could, they'd thank them."
Rodney stares at John, who under the table reaches over and squeezes his knee. After a moment of silence, the squeeze turns into a pinch, and Rodney snaps his head back towards Sam. "Yes, right. Convinced them, completely. I'm a very convincing guy. Didn't even have to yell much."
"You yelled a little," John says, smirk obvious in his voice.
"I just wanted to remind them of what they were losing out on. They'd be insane to give this up."
He can feel John shrug. "They saw his side of the argument in the end."
There's a hint of affection in the tone, and a stroke of his leg that Rodney knows means he's forgiven. He feels himself relax and sit back in his chair, almost mirroring John's pose. "So we don't have to worry about fall-out from that."
There's an awkward silence in the room, and Rodney can practically see the elephant standing in the middle of the table, but then Lorne clears his throat. "We didn't find any stragglers on our search of the city, other than Doc Z here," he says, pointing his thumb at Zelenka. "I don't think anyone really…regrets McKay's executive decision."
Sam nods a little jerkily. "Right. Good, then." She looks down at her laptop. "How're repairs going?"
"I remembered where I hid the control crystal," Zelenka says tiredly. "I finished installing it in the Stargate an hour ago. And after a few tests, we can dial New Athos."
Teyla visibly relaxes at the pronouncement. Ronon reaches over and punches Zelenka in the arm lightly, a wide grin on his face. Zelenka clutches the spot and lets out a few Czech curses.
Rodney decides it's a good place to step in. "I've got an initial list of systems to check and update. I should have a final one ready by tomorrow morning. We can get back on schedule within a week if we double shift hours."
Sam shakes her head. "I'm reluctant to do that. I think it's important we all…appreciate what we've been through, and adjust to situation. There have been many…upheavals," she looks around the table, "between personnel. Taking an extra week wouldn't hurt, I don't think." She raises an eyebrow at Rodney.
Rodney does a mental tally, then double-checks his tablet. They haven't done terrible maintenance, just sub-standard. It's really not too bad. "Barring any attacks or dangerous devices or off-world disasters, we should be okay." He looks over the list again. "And with two vessels in orbit, we're probably better protected than usual."
"Of course, now that you've said it, you've probably just jinxed us," John says, nudging Rodney's knee with his own.
"There's no such thing, Colonel. Just because this galaxy seems to have it out for us-"
"Will there be any issues with possible relationships that have occurred while our memories were impaired?" Lorne interrupts, once more sporting his soldier mask. Rodney's pretty sure he's asking on his own behalf more than John and Rodney's, but news got around, and John and Lorne weren't the only soldiers who found solace with their fellow man..
Sam clears her throat a bit. "It is standard SGC policy to overlook breeches of conduct when under the influence of alien," she waves her a palm, "well, anything. And people, for the most part, were discrete. If they choose to continue, however, we will have to re-evaluate the situation then. Especially if it affects team dynamics." She stares very hard at the laptop as she says this.
John exchanges a quick glance with Lorne, and then gives him a subtle nod. Lorne doesn't so much relax as shift to an at-ease posture. "I think we can handle it on a case-by-case status, Major. If it's big enough, we'll bother the Colonel. Right, Carter?" He gives her a challenging stare at that.
She meets it head on, not flinching, or backing down. "Of course, Colonel Sheppard. You should use your best judgment as you come across these…situations." A small smile crawls across her face. "It wouldn't be the first time we've made accommodations for special circumstances."
John just leans back and folds his arms across his chest. "Cool," he says with a tad of smugness.
Rodney just beams at his tablet. He's pretty sure that's the closest thing to a blessing Carter's ever going to give them, but it's enough.
"Doctor Keller, any more issues with panic attacks or injuries?"
Jennifer shakes her head. "The drug seems to have cured them of their symptoms, but I would like to recommend counseling for some of them, with your approval."
"As it happens, the Daedalus has brought Doctor Heightmeyer's replacement. I would recommend everyone see him at least once over the next couple of weeks." She closes her laptop. "Rodney, I'll want a more detailed report on our repair status by tomorrow morning. And Colonel Sheppard," she waits until John is looking at him, "we have something to discuss with Colonel's Caldwell and Ellis. Briefing is at twenty-hundred tonight."
Rodney winces, but John just nods. He'll probably hear about it shortly after the meeting, but four Colonels in a room, especially in Atlantis, never bodes well. It usually means a situation is cropping up very, very soon. One which will make the last few weeks seem ridiculously pleasant by comparison.
"All right, I want fresh duty assignments and final department analyses on my desk by tomorrow noon." Sam stands up and looks around the room. "And welcome back everyone."
They all stand up at the declaration, and Rodney makes sure he's next to John when they exit the room. As they leave, he can see Lorne exchange a look with Chuck, who's back at his usual position. Neither of them blushes, but the tension in the air is fairly obvious. "Think he'll make a move?" Rodney whispers.
John just shrugs. "Could be either."
"We should start a pool."
John raises an eyebrow. "I'm not betting on the Major's love life."
"How about Chuck's?" Rodney can see John either considering it or trying to figure out how to change the subject when the klaxons start blaring throughout the city. Rodney winces, ears unfamiliar to the sound after so much time. The instinct is still solid, though, and he and John both jog over to the command center. "What've we got?"
Chuck barely gets out, "Incoming wormhole," before the Stargate begins the dial-in procedure.
"Raise the shield," John says as the wormhole establishes itself. Sam and Lorne arrive just as a new screen appears scrolling programming code. "What the—Rodney?"
Rodney body-checks Chuck out of the chair to get a closer look at the program. "It's a hack. They're trying to disable—huh."
"Huh?"
He can feel himself frown. "This is a variation on the code I used to lower the shield when we retook Atlantis from the Replicators."
"So you mean," Sam starts, but the shield vanishes before she can finish, and a few seconds later, three people step through onto the main floor. None of them look alarmed at the weapons and marines focused on them.
The first two in front knock the wind from Rodney, because he thought…no, they'd been dead. They'd definitely been dead. And from the grip on his shoulder from John, he knows he's feeling the same thing. But when he catches sight of the last person, he nearly panics, because he's been through this once before. He didn't like it, doesn't like it, and he's not, he will not stand for it again.
As one, Elizabeth Weir, Carson Beckett, and a second Rodney McKay raise their hands in a salute at the control room.
"God damned Pegasus galaxy," Rodney mutters.