If the open air and the sun on his back weren’t enough to make John want to get better, the chance to get to work on reverse engineering Puddle Jumpers with Felger and Combs sure was.

He’d gotten some of their reports off of Rodney’s computer already, as his two caretakers had finally stopped hovering and left him alone in the house for whole hours on end. He loved them both, but he was glad for the reprieve.

Besides, Katie had told him that they’d probably be clearing him to go back to his own apartment soon – with some portable oxygen and a panic button, but still, he’d have his own couch and his own kitchen and he’d be able to stop intruding on Sam and Rodney.

And tonight, Rodney was going to take him out – whether he wanted to or not. There’d been a lot of hemming and hawing this morning, but after a long-distance call to Scotland, Rodney’d finally relented.

John smiled, not bothering to scramble back to the couch and pretend like he’d been napping when Rodney came in.

“Hey, honey, I’m home.”

John stood gingerly – he was healing, but stretching the sore skin and muscles still hurt like hell.

“Hey! What are you doing out of bed? I thought I told you we’d only go out if you rested this afternoon.”

“Jesus, Rodney, I’m fine. You can be such a damned mother-hen sometimes.”

Rodney sighed. “You’re an idiot. You don’t even know how close you came . . .” Rodney seemed to choke up, his eyes glazing over with that panicked look he usually only got when he thought they were all going to die (which wasn’t all that infrequent, granted). “John, you were bleeding all over the place. You didn’t see Reyes . . . she looked like . . . just looking at her face, I thought you . . . and Sam, if she hadn’t used the healing device . . . John, I can’t lose you to something stupid like you not taking care of yourself, okay? Who am I going to play chess with? Complain to about all the minions? Make fun of stupid sci-fi movies with?” Well, his wife for one, but John wasn’t about to point that out.

“I know . . . I know, Rodney. I’m sorry. But I really am fine. I won’t take any unnecessary risks. I promise.”

Rodney smiled. “Good, because I brought you something.”

“Aw, honey, you shouldn’t’ve.” John batted his eyelashes theatrically.

“Well, I am the infinitely generous brilliant handsome genius of Oz, after all. Now, put on this jacket and let’s go.”

“Rodney, it’s not even 60 out.”

“Weather Channel?”

“I took a little walk.”

“John! That’s it. We’re not going. God, it’s like you’re trying to kill yourself. Why can’t you just . . .”

“Fine, fine, Rodney, I’ll wear the damned jacket. Let’s just go. I swear I’ll go crazy cooped up inside any longer.”

Rodney insisted on helping him into the jacket and guiding him over to the car, but John didn’t mind the warm arm around his shoulders much. It was kind of chilly, after all.

And there, sitting in the driveway, was his very own convertible. “You’re going to let me drive?”

“Dream on, flyboy.” Rodney winced after he said it. After all, what was a flyboy that couldn’t fly? “You were scary enough before you’d been convalescing for three months. But we can put the top down, don’t worry.”

John nodded, trying not to look too upset. He wondered when Reyes would let him drive. He was practically itching for it.

He would give Rodney credit for trying, though. The air blowing through his hair, cold against his skin, felt damned good. And Rodney was even trying to go fast (which, for Rodney, was only about 70) and he wasn’t swerving as much as usual.

John tried to shout, “Where’re we going?” over the wind, but Rodney was definitely concentrating too hard on driving to hear him. But it didn’t matter, because a few minutes later, he saw it towering in the darkness, a giant circle painting slow lines onto the night sky.

“A Ferris wheel,” John said, smiling.

“Brilliant deduction, Einstein,” Rodney mumbled, opening the door for him and helping John up.

“Yeah, maybe your genius is rubbing off on me.”

He tried not to let Rodney see how out of breath he was when they finally got to the ticket booth, but by the rumpled frown on his lips, John guessed that it he wasn’t all that successful.

Rodney gave the ticket attendant a hundred for the whole night undisturbed and they got into the gondola. The wind was even stronger at the top, and Rodney pulled a giant fleece blanket out of the backpack he’d been carrying (also filled with medical supplies) and wrapped it around them.

John tucked his head against Rodney’s shoulder, felt his heartbeat, let his heat warm him against the cold Colorado wind and the darkness that surrounded them, high in the air.

Rodney didn’t really try to say anything inspiring or comforting. They talked about Felger and Combs and all the things that John had to watch out for in the lab, politics included. They talked about football and Star Wars and a thousand other familiar arguments. They talked about Atlantis, and how they’d once talked about coming home and riding a Ferris wheel like this all night, just talking and enjoying life without the constant threat of annihilation.

Somehow, on Atlantis, John thought that this scene would involve more making out, and maybe a blowjob, but this was nice too, feeling Rodney’s solid presence grounding him against the darkness and all the flashing lights. Here like this, he could almost believe that everything would turn out all right.

The first day of work felt an awful lot like the first day of school. Sure he knew everyone, and most of them thought of him as the cool kid, but still . . . it was hard not to wonder what had changed, what he’d missed out on the whole summer away at military camp. Were bomber jackets still in? Did Casey Martin turn Christian and decide that she didn’t want to make out with him under the bleachers anymore? What was new on MTV?

He walked along the corridors smiling the smile that he and a few select others knew was fake, while people congratulated him on his recovery and wished him well and all that. He was already tired by the time he made it down to Felger’s lab.

But luckily, at least one thing hadn’t changed.

“No, no, you idiot, did you learn your engineering skills from Kevin Sorbo? You can’t just connect the field generator to the drive control without refining the software . . .”

“Well, how else are we going to test it? Telepathy? Oh, wait, I know, we’ll get in a time machine, see how the future us solve the problem then come back and do it, because that’s not a paradox at all.”

“No, no, we obviously need to build a simulator first.”

“We could build a simulator if we understood how the mechanism even works . . .”

“Well, we could test . . .”

“What we need is . . . Colonel Sheppard! So good to see you back on your feet. How are you feeling? Do you want to sit down?” Combs practically tripped over himself trying to help John into a seat.

John made a conscious effort to let his gratitude show. As much as it stung his pride, he was finally getting used to people helping him out. He could almost, almost take joy in the fact that they cared enough to want to.

Still, he vowed that one day he wouldn’t be winded just from getting down to the lab area and that he wouldn’t need two couch-potato-shaped geeks to help him out.

Felger almost looked disappointed when he took them up on their offer. But John was tired of being the tough guy. He was tired of putting on a brave face. He was tired of the put-on nonchalance and the empty smiles. He was just plain tired.

“So, what’ve we got, guys?” He smiled anyway, because they deserved the smile more than he needed to sulk.

“Well, now that you’re here, we’re hoping that we can actually get beyond the theoretical phase and into some actual testing.”

“But I thought you just said . . .”

“I said that we can’t build a simulator. But that doesn’t mean that with an actual gene carrier we can’t do some testing.”

Felger was grinning that scary jack-o-lantern smile off his, and Combs was practically humming with nervous energy. This was big . . . it was like . . .

“Testing in an actual Jumper?” He hoped it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

“You’re not going to tell Reyes, are you?” Combs asked, nervously.

“Do I look suicidal?”

“No,” Felger said. Rodney would’ve made some sarcastic comment about how often John tried to get himself killed. He was glad Rodney wasn’t here.

“Great. Then what are we waiting for?”

The first day of work wasn’t the hardest. He got to fly again, feel the familiar hum of Ancient technology, a language he could understand better than his first, even if there wasn’t much more he could do other than slowly circle the hanger or hover while Combs screamed at him to go slower.

It wasn’t the second day, either, when Rodney came down to the lab under the pretense of needing to bully Felger and Combs into giving him their budget requests, when he was secretly checking in on John. He could feel the small spark of the lifesigns detector Rodney was hiding in his pocket to scan him. It was kind of sweet, in a creepy-stalker sort of way.

No, the hardest part was when he made his way up to the control room to find Sam and saw Lin and Toderov going through the Gate with Saunders and some newbie that Rodney called ‘the hot chemist with the glasses.’ This was his team. Sure, it was really only half of it, and John’d been trying to get rid of Toderov for years, and upgrade Lin to the talking version, but it was still his team, and they were going through the Gate without him.

Besides, who in the hell thought it was a good idea to give Toderov a command? Even if he was a major now, he was still a kid. A kid who wouldn’t follow an order if it were tattooed to his punky Russian ass. What were the higher-ups thinking? Then again, Rodney was always saying that military intelligence was an oxymoron.

The years had treated her well – that was the best thing he could think about her visit at the moment. Not that he didn’t like Elizabeth. Hell, saying goodbye to her had been as hard as anything. But maybe that was why seeing her again was so painful now. She was Atlantis to him. She was still the first commander who’d given him a real chance, an ally (despite all their arguments), and a friend, as much as one’s boss could be. He remembered her, aged but still regal, unlocking yet another great mystery of their magnificent surroundings for them. After Atlantis they’d parted ways. He didn’t know the Elizabeth of Earth.

It was only fitting that away from Atlantis she’d come bearing bad news. Apparently, her work calming military leaders around the globe had finally come to the head they’d all been fearing – with the US military now running the Atlantis expedition and the recent lapse in communication that no one was talking about, how was anyone going to believe that the SGC was truly sharing all promised technology?

While John’s role in the upcoming international audits would surely be small and mostly painless, it still justified heading out to get completely plastered.

And now he had Elizabeth huddled next to him in the crook of the comfy corner couch at his local bar, green eyes pleasantly glazed but fingers still cold, clasped around his arm.

“I’ve missed you, John.”

“Missed you too, Elizabeth.” Then again, he could never really tell if it was Elizabeth he missed or Atlantis itself. “I miss the city.”

“Me too. But it was hard. I wasn’t meant for command. I realize that now.”

“You were a great leader. Sure we disagreed every now and then . . .”

Elizabeth gave a drunken guffaw, probably the least ladylike thing he’d ever heard from her.

“What?!” He shrugged dramatically displacing her arm. “So, I was a little gung-ho at times. At the end of the day, we kept each other on our toes.”

“I don’t know, John. I can’t help but think . . . what if . . . what if I’d just been a little more military. If I hadn’t been so pigheaded . . .”

“’Pigheaded’ is one of the last words I’d use to describe you, Elizabeth.”

“I just mean . . . I was so used to having to fight for people’s respect. When I started out in politics . . . it was because I was a woman. And then with the Stargate Project it was because I wasn’t military . . . and on Atlantis that I wasn’t a scientist. I fought you, John. I thought I had to establish my authority . . . when maybe if I’d just let you run things . . . or look like you were running them, they wouldn’t have recalled us.”

John hated this. Elizabeth was a strong woman. In a negotiation, she’d grab you by the balls and squeeze until you’d convinced yourself that you really did agree with her after all, but afterwards . . . she was all doubt and recriminations. Maybe John was one of the few people who got to see this, but it didn’t excuse it.

“You, more than anyone, should know that it was purely political. I mean, for all we know, this administration has been keeping secrets from the rest of the world.”

Elizabeth sighed, letting her head fall down onto John’s chest. “You’re right, John. Of course you’re right. I just . . . “ Then she raised her head, suddenly sober. “You don’t think the communications breakdown has anything to do with that, do you?”

John took another swig of his beer. “God, I hope not.”

“No, it couldn’t. They wouldn’t . . .” she said, not sounding entirely convinced.

They sat there for a moment, each in their own drunken contemplation. If there was one thing he’d missed about Elizabeth herself, it was the comfortable silences. It was nice after a long day of hearing Rodney’s constant bitching off-world to sit down in Elizabeth’s office and type up his follow-up report while she worked on rotations or mission schedules, looking up to ask him questions every once in a while.

“So . . .” he said after a while. “Before they lost communication, did you hear anything interesting from Atlantis?”

“Not particularly. Military briefings are not the most exciting of things. I’m sure you’ve already heard, but Captain Ford did finally get that promotion to Major.”

“Really?! Good for him. What else did you hear in that report?” He tried to make it casual, to not call any attention to it. But Elizabeth, despite how blind she could be at times, was certainly perceptive when it came to understanding people.

“Oh, John, I’m so sorry. I forgot. You were . . .”

“Out of commission. Yeah.” Flat on his back with a fucking respirator, more like, but who was counting?

“Look, I’ve got all the files on my computer. I can burn you a disk when we get back.”

“Thanks, Elizabeth.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Away from Atlantis, their silences were getting more awkward. Elizabeth, however, pushed on. “It’s not like they have anything personal in them anyway. Maybe a few notes to family, but . . . well, nothing to friends, and I’m pretty sure that is on purpose.”

“Yeah. But who needs to hear about Ford’s love life, anyhow?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Hey, who knows . . . in a universe where Rodney can marry the famed Samantha Carter . . .”

John chuckled. “Yeah. Who knew?”

“I’m sorry I missed that, by the way. I had these negotiations in Russia that just couldn’t wait.”

“Don’t worry about it. Though you did miss out on my drunken life story . . .”

“Well, in that case . . .” She grinned her most playful grin and motioned to the bartender for another round. “Though I did get the video you sent. Radek giving the speech . . .”

And just like that they’d found yet another uncomfortable silence. Conversations about Atlantis had suddenly become a minefield. He wondered if it’d ever get easier.

“I’m sorry, John. Maybe I should cancel that next round.” Her cheeks flushed. It was cute in a way he’d never really had a chance to see on Atlantis.

“Yeah, the things you don’t know about people until they’ve got a few in them.” He was speaking about Elizabeth just as much as he was about Radek.

“Oh, Zelenka. I always knew that beneath the bumbling scientist exterior he was really a party animal. Other members of the expedition, on the other hand . . .” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What are you looking at me for?!”

“Oh, nothing.” She winked. “Though after I heard about him and Colonel Carter, I’ve been wondering about Rodney. He’s so easy to read, I guess I thought I’d figured him out. I mean, he goes from not being able to get a date on Atlantis to marrying this beautiful smart amazing woman that half the SGC’s in love with?”

“Maybe he didn’t get a date on Atlantis on purpose,” John said, even as he knew he was saying too much. It felt good though, that dangerous streak . . . the knowledge that there was someone who could still find out.

But then Elizabeth had a slightly more tipsy version of her interrogation face on. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, John?”

She sounded for all the world like an elementary school teacher . . . as he’d often imagined her. With about five beers in him, that just led to a burst of laughter.

“Seriously . . . we’re not on Atlantis anymore . . . you’re not under my command . . . Rodney’s happily married. What’s the harm in telling me about his secret girlfriend?”

And maybe John’d had one too many to drink, or maybe he was just upset about the whole happily married thing, or the fact that he might as well be a civilian now, or maybe Elizabeth really was right – what did he have to lose? – but whatever the reason, he opened his mouth and just let it out. “I was his secret girlfriend.”

Elizabeth gave another drunken laugh, burying her nose in his chest. “Sure, John. Seriously . . .”

And then her eyes met his and her features went lax, like a puppet without a puppet-master. “You’re not kidding.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“When? How?”

“After we lost Gall and Abrams.” For some reason, it didn’t hurt as much anymore, buried deep beneath all the other losses. That was no way to get over something. “We just needed some sort of release . . . it was never supposed to be serious.”

And boy, wasn’t he giving a lot away now?

“But it did get serious?”

John said, “Maybe.” But didn’t there have to be two parties involved in serious?

Elizabeth frowned. “Is it still serious?”

“It could’ve been.” But then again, the entire universe was a great big ‘could’ve been,’ ‘what if’s breaking off like the cracked surface of the scalded desert.

Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment, her sigh filtering through him like that defeat – so thick he could taste it – so many years ago. When Elizabeth gave up, it was like the world crumbling.

“I’m sorry, John.”

Her fingers were still cold on his neck as she embraced him. But then again, what could he expect? All women would instinctively support the wronged spouse over that old skeleton in the closet. Literally.

“I’m fine, Elizabeth.” He met those wise eyes head-on and felt braver for it. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Elizabeth, as always, was already regretting the things she could’ve done. Maybe if they’d told her . . . but what use was another ‘what if?’