Rodney was hot. No... actually, he'd surpassed hot (as spectacularly as he'd surpassed normal intelligence and social graces) and gone straight into sweltering, burning, searing, baking, and, his favorite, denaturing. He didn't know exactly what temperature DNA unraveled at, but he was pretty sure that he was getting there fast. The only thing that would be left of him would be Sheppard's damn mutant gene, knowing his luck. He was going to die.

He announced this fact, of course. "If I have to walk one more step, I think I'll die. Pass out from dehydration... my body will rot right here in this slimy, sweaty, worthless jungle, and Elizabeth won't even be able to recover it, it'll decay so fast, even if she could send a team through this muck."

Sheppard didn't even turn around, his impatience clear. Let the bastard be impatient. He obviously didn't care about whether or not his supposed best friend died, probably glad that he wouldn't even have to bury the body, it'd rot so fast. "You're not going to die, Rodney. Not anymore than the last time you said so, two minutes ago."

"Maybe we should take a break. I'm sweating so much and teetering on the verge of a hypoglycemic reaction here."

"We're not taking a break. You've had five breaks in the last half hour. The sooner we get back, the sooner I get a nice long shower and try not to think about strangling you."

"Perhaps we should stop, Major. If Dr. McKay is feeling ill, is it not best that we exercise caution?" Thank you, Teyla, the voice of reason.

"If we exercised caution every time Rodney thought he was going to die, we'd be sitting in a padded room in a bomb shelter somewhere using plastic utensils."

"I do not see what plastic utensil have to do with it, Major."

"I wouldn't mind stopping, either. I saw a fascinating microhabitat on one of the stumps I seem to remember was somewhere around here." Oh good, at least the damn biologist was good for something. But then again, it was his fault they were on this ridiculous goose hunt through the heart of darkness anyhow. There were probably man-eating alligators and cannibals and rabid monkeys circling them right now. And all for some stupid plant...

"Here?" Sheppard seemed confused. Of course, he was probably lost. The man couldn't find his own ass with a flashlight and a map... but then again, he didn't have much of an ass to find...

"Yes, just beyond that Rhizophore, there."

"Oh, that one..." Rodney rolled his eyes. "what a wonder I missed it, among the million other plain TREES." What was so special about trees anyhow? They grew, sometimes you ate them, they were in those things called parks that he never really saw the point of, and that was that, nothing to go gaga about.

Dr. Kellogg stopped, and turned, causing Rodney to crash straight into him, bouncing back into Teyla, who thankfully caught him. That was the first time a woman'd touched his ass in a long time...

"It's more than just a tree. It's a..."

"I know, I know, a unique microecosystem, supporting all forms of diverse life that could possibly be the key to defeating the wraith and the cure for aids and eternal youth, or it could just be a tree."

"Now, now, boys, I've had to listen to you two bitch at each other for five hours now and if I have to hear you say how biology is a vodoo science one more time, Rodney, so help me, I will..."

"Medicine is a voodoo science. Biology is what people who failed in chemistry do."

"So that's why there's biochem, then?" Dr. Kellogg practically spat. Rodney ignored him.

Sheppard turned. "And you. We're on this mission because Dr. Weir is convinced that it'll gain valuable research material, and that's enough for me. But I don't need to hear about the beauty of this log or this tree or whatever. You're only making McKay whine..."

"More than usual." Ford piped up from the back of the line. It wasn't clever and Rodney was far from amused. In fact, he was miserable. He was here, sweating like a pig on some mission that belonged in the adventures of Pounce De Leon, not in a world with spacecraft and computers, and best of all, air conditioning. And worst of all, as he felt that he didn't even have enough water in... in the entire atlantean ocean, to sweet as much as he did, he was forced to see Teyla every time he turned around - no sweat marks, no frown, hair perfectly coiffed, and only enough sheen of sweat to look like she stepped out of the July spread of a swimsuit ca lander. No wonder John was sleeping with her.

And Sheppard... walking in front of them, trying to pretend like he knew where he was going, wearing possibly the most ridiculous outfit for this type of weather - black short-sleeved t-shirt, made of cotton, not synthetics. And yet, his hair wasn't even flattened by the sweat. Rodney had never even had the pleasure of seeing it not sticking up.

And then there was Ford, the kid was still grinning after 5 hours walking through hell (and it smelled like it).

Something moved in the trees. Sheppard and Ford swung their P90s around at it. Rodney ducked. One of those rabid monkeys now. Or a giant insect. With milaria. He was probably going to get milaria. Not Sheppard and his ridiculous short sleeved shirt... in a jungle, where all sorts of things could bite/poke/scratch him. Rodney would be the one to get it...

"I'm going to die from milaria."

"It's an alien planet. There's no milaria."

"Fine, then I'll get alien milaria."

"Actually, it's possible that a strain of..." Dr. Kellogg began.

"Shut up." Rodney and Sheppard said at the same time.

"I bet one of these bugs..." he was satisfied to see Sheppard flinch just slightly. "is carrying something. Or maybe they'll just suck the life out of you, bite by tiny bite." So that was low, and he knew it, but he didn't care. Sheppard made him come on this stupid mission because he had to go and misery loves company. Not like they could use a physicist on a planet with nothing but trees trees and more trees.

He was even more gratified to watch Sheppard slap the back of his neck every five seconds after they started walking again... until it got old. Really old. "There's nothing there, Major, so you can stop trying to draw my attention to the beads of sweat dripping down your shirt collar." That was not sexual. It wasn't... really. The heat must be effecting him... hallucinations. That had to be it.

Sheppard turned, as strange look on his face. It could be perplexed or intrigued or just blatantly annoyed. With Sheppard it was hard to tell. "Glad you noticed. Now, before you make this mission even worse...."

"I don't see how this mission could possibly..."

"Don't say it, Doc." Ford piped up from the back of the line.

"Why? Because Zeus will fly down on his mighty chariot and smite me with a bolt of lightning?"

"Actually, Zeus didn't use a chariot..." They all ignored Kellogg. Academics... Rodney hated them with a passion.

"You'll jinx it."

"Oh, because that's so much more valid a point. Jesus, Ford, I know it's difficult for you, but could you try to actually think for once in your life? There's no reason why me saying that this is the worst mission ever, in every know universe, or any unknown ones, should make..."

They all heard the thunder clap, but Rodney was the only one that felt both the rain and the hard glare of four pairs of eyes staring at him.

They all stood there dumbfounded for a moment, before Rodney spoke up again. He had to say something... anything to break the awful silence. "Great, now I'm going to be drowned and get alien milaria and jungle rot and pneumonia and ..."

"Perhaps this cloud, as you say, will have a lining of silver." Teyla said from behind him. Of course, the little hippie would think that. Teyla was better suited to be a camp counselor than a warrior. "At least now you are no longer hot, or in danger of dehydration."

"Maybe..." he grumbled. Teyla smiled, missing his sarcasm by a mile, of course.

But, as he watched Sheppard's hair of steel finally wilt and the droplets of water cascade down his pale skin, looking lickable and succulently good, and saw how his wet pants clung to what turned out to be an okay ass, after all, Rodney thought that maybe the lining, though not silver, might be a bit of a sparkling grey.