He gasped. His heart pounded, his lungs filled, and he was high . . . he was flying because, damn, he’d never tasted anything this good before . . . a full fresh breath of air.

“John? John, it’s okay . . .” A warm hand, squeezing his. That voice. That voice he loved so damn much.

He blinked the blackness out of his eyes. The spots fading to Rodney’s open gaze staring down at him, his crooked smile, his hands running through John’s hair, and his slightly musky smell evading even the sterile blankness of the Asgard medical bay.

John took in another deep breath, saw colors brighter, smells more pungent, the world so different and yet the same . . . and then it rose up from inside him, from this new body itself, a deep rumbling laugh, as incontrollable as the turning of the world.

Rodney looked bewildered, questioning, worried, but then John pulled him down into a deep languid kiss, filled with all the undistilled joy of this new life brewing within him.

And for the first time since his injury, he truly believed that everything would be okay.

Then Skadi made a sort of chirping sound that John assumed was the naked little gray alien version of clearing the throat.

Rodney pulled back, embarrassed. John could’ve gone on kissing for an eternity.

“You are feeling well, I assume,” Skadi said, placidly.

“Yes, thank you . . .” John said, carefully, practically jumping off the Asgard version of an operating table. He almost stumbled, not having counted on that crick in his left knee having disappeared. Rodney was there to steady him, but he waved his hands away. He didn’t need Rodney’s help anymore.

“Then I believe it is time that you returned to your world.”

“Wait . . . don’t you want to run any sort of tests or . . .” Rodney didn’t get a chance to finish as they were engulfed in a bright beam of light.

“I really hate her,” Rodney grumbled as the found themselves standing in the middle of the Gate Room.

“What do you expect from little asexual grey guys with an unnatural love of General O’Neill?” John said with a shrug. “But hey, I’m not complaining.” He threw his hands out wide, as if to embrace this whole new life.

“Neither am I,” Rodney said with a warm smile, pulling John tighter into a kiss. And even though this wasn’t by any means their first kiss, it was the first kiss in this body and it still felt new somehow. On these virgin lips, Rodney’s kisses felt like silk and Sunday afternoons and John could only imagine what his cock would feel like . . . like his first time . . . it would be his first time, as paradoxical as that seemed. And he wondered why in the hell the Asgard didn’t take more advantage of this new bodies thing.

But even though his world was narrowed to Rodney’s lips and his hands roaming up John’s back, stirring newborn skin to life, he heard to the whoops and cheers of all the base personnel watching them kiss in the middle of the Gate Room and marveled at the fact that, of all the firsts he’d just experienced, this was probably the most important: the first time they’d ever kissed in public, the first time they’d let the world share in what they had together.

It felt amazing, until he opened his eyes and saw Sam looking down at them from behind the thick glass of the control room. He didn’t need to see her up close to know that she was crying and he didn’t need a better body to feel her pain.

They had decided to postpone Rodney’s transfer to Nevada until after Reyes was confident that John was truly all right. Not that John didn’t trust the Asguard, but he was happy to wait. All he had to do was go in for a checkup twice a week and the rest of the time, he spent working with Felger and Combs in the lab. It was just like old times – endless meaningless sci-fi debates, flying again . . . for real this time as they progressed into actual testing – though the brunt of it was being saved for next week when they were due to ship out to Area 51.

Rodney stopped by occasionally to run tests on the time device after reviewing the specs sent from Janus’ old lab on Atlantis.

And now they were even starting to talk about reverse engineering that. It was against every cautionary time-travel movie ever made to be able to mass produce the damn things, but it still had its appeal, if not for the simple knowledge that they could do it.

But there was always the temptation . . .

“We could . . .” Rodney almost whispered, staring at the blinking podium-like device in the back hangar of the Jumper.

“We could what?” John hissed, looking over his shoulder for Felger and Combs, even knowing that they were off arguing Batman vs. Superman on their lunch break.

Rodney almost caressed the smooth surface of the ‘flux capacitor,’ a haunted longing in his eyes. “Do you ever wonder, ‘what if?’”

“No.” It was a lie and they both knew it.

“If we could just warn ourselves . . . we’d never have to hurt anyone, tell anyone anything. Just a word and . . .”

“But you wouldn’t have Max.”

“No existence is better than a miserable one,” Rodney huffed with an odd sort of confidence, even for him. It was the same kind of diehard righteousness that you’d expect from feminists or libertarians or something.

“You don’t believe that.”

“When it comes to time travel, I do.”

John sighed, interlacing his fingers with Rodney’s but still feeling the cool metal of the device beneath his fingertips. “You know we can’t. Besides, even if I don’t always like this, I’m willing to accept it.” In the end, they really did deserve what they got. He could see that now.

Sure, Sam and Max were the innocents, but in the end, John believed that life was worth living no matter what. Well . . . with the exception of living as an old man from a Wraith feeding, but this was the Milky Way, they didn’t have to worry about that.

In the end, even life in Pegasus with the constant threat of the Wraith was life worth living. As long as there was hope . . . and there still was. John had trouble trusting people, but one person he did trust was Sam. She’d forgive them one day, for Max’s sake, if not for theirs.

O’Neill gave him the news like it was a gift. Except it was like one of those gifts wrapped in razor-sharp wrapping paper that’d cut you up the second you gave into the temptation of opening it. It was a Pandora’s gift – that’s what it was. It was like the exploding cigars the CIA tried to use to kill Castro.

Only John wasn’t as smart as good ol’ Fidel. He knew his cigars were the deathly handshake-buzzer kind and yet he was going to smoke them anyway, because how could he not? If he didn’t it’d eat him up inside. If he did, it still would. Catch-22, he fucking hated that.

“I’m not going to have to give you another one of my rousing ‘this is the reason why we fight the good fight and all that’ speeches again, am I?” O’Neill said.

“I don’t remember a speech, Sir.” Unless, ‘I’m going to make this as succinct as possible’ counted.

“Hmm . . . Reyes says you checked out . . . no memory loss. Am I missing something?”

“No, Sir. It’s just that . . . if we go . . . “

“You’re not happy here. Sam’s not happy. The lab mice aren’t happy. You’ve been begging to go back for how long now? It solves everyone’s problems.”

“What about Max’s problems? What about Rodney’s?”

“There doesn’t have to be a problem,” O’Neill said, and his voice was hard, possessive. It was easy to see why he had such a reputation as a great warrior instead of the goofball he always seemed like to John. “We’ll take good care of him.”

And maybe Rodney was right . . . maybe O’Neill, who adopted surrogate children left and right, who was brave and strong and funny, who’d done it all before and learned from his mistakes, who’d give anything for another chance . . . maybe O’Neill’d be better. Maybe they’d all be better off, even if it wasn’t right.

“I’ll have to discuss it with Rodney,” he said, even when he already knew Rodney’s answer. Rodney wanted to get away from it all. And Pegasus was as far away as he knew.

The waters were blue and bright and Ford was standing behind him, practically humming. They could see the shield, floating over them in yet another shade of calming blue light, not for a second dulling the bright pastel of the sky. Ford bounced a little on his heels. “So, Colonel, how does it feel to be back?”

John smiled, feeling the familiar hum at the back of his mind, like a piano playing in the next room, comforting and alluring all at once. “Great, Ford. It feels great.”

“Good. We’ll get you . . . and Dr. McKay set up in the southwest wing, near the newer labs. I’m afraid that we’ve already assigned your old quarters, but they’re . . . you know, um, too small now. You’ll like these new ones though. You’ve got a really cool balcony and the kitchen is huge. Though I don’t know how the two of you plan to . . .”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Ford,” John tried to smile, tried to ignore Ford’s nervous babbling and the fact that he now made his former lieutenant so uncomfortable. But the kid was fiercely loyal. He’d get over it sometime, by sheer force of will if nothing else. He just hoped he could stand him until he did.

“Wow, Sir. I just can’t believe you’re here; that’s all. You don’t know how many times I wished you were here. I mean, I learned and everything. I was a good soldier, but I kind of feel like you could’ve taught me a lot more if you’d stayed.”

“You did good, Ford.” He said the same thing to Ford that Elizabeth had said to him all those years ago when he got his first taste of the fight they were going to have to spend maybe the rest of their lives fighting.

And now the Wraith were a dying race, with the kid with the huge grin and the enthusiasm of a whole bag full of puppies coordinating a galaxy wide rebellion. John had always thought that he’d be the one leading the fight. But then again, he’d thought a lot of things.

“Hey, I know that you’ve got to get settled in and everything, but tomorrow we’re going to have a strategic meting, and I can fill you in on our battle strategy. There’s something building, Sir. I think I’ve got a plan for the southern sector, but it’s a big fight, and you really should sign off on . . .”

John smiled, bemused, observing the rough focus that’d replaced the earlier directionless enthusiasm that he’d come to know in Aiden Ford. He’d missed the kid, but he was proud of what he’d become in John’s absence – except for the whole homophobia part.

But that wasn’t what John was here to do. “I’d be glad to look things over, Ford. But, honestly, I’m here to coordinate scientific investigations not military ops. It’s been years since I’ve been anywhere but the lab. You know this fight. It’s your fight now.”

Ford looked like he was biting his lip, concerned but no longer nervous and longing to impress. “It’s your fight too, Sir. It’ll always be your fight.”

John had to smile at that, clapping Ford hard on the back. The kid didn’t even flinch. “I leave you out here alone and suddenly you get all wise on me.”

“My grandma always used to say that you never lose the things you love.” Or maybe Ford had always been wise, and he’d just never seen through the puppy-dog devotion to recognize it.

“Yeah, maybe.”

And then Ford punched him in the arm, which kinda hurt now. “Man, it’s so good to have you back, Sir.”

They hadn’t even finished unpacking things in their apartment when the first disaster happened. It was exhilarating in a way that John had completely forgotten.

It wasn’t that things didn’t happen to them at the SGC, because they definitely did, and when they did, it was way more than just their own asses on the line. It was all of Earth along with them. Plus, they had the whole politics of the damn thing to take care of. There were only so many meteorites and weather balloons and so forth that could just happen by in the neighborhood of Cheyenne Mountain.

But disasters on Atlantis were different. They were more frequent and just as likely to be caused by an accidental activation of the backup sewage-treatment system as an attempted alien incursion. And they involved everyone from the Colonel to the Kitchen Boy, because there was no escaping them . . . no outside. John’d forgotten how all-consuming Atlantis was, even when it stayed with him long after leaving.

It was strange, waking to the alarm claxons and his radio going off instead of to the quiet buzz of his cell phone in the night.

Rodney fell out of bed, eyes wide and hands spread. “What is it? What’s that noise? What’s going on?”

“Alarm,” John grumbled, throwing Rodney his vest as he pulled his own pants on. He was tired and really, if he’d known they were going to be back up in about two hours doing damage control, he wouldn’t have goaded Rodney into ‘just one more time.’

“Alarm? Alarm. Why now?” Rodney whined, already grabbing his laptop and heading for the door.

“Uh . . . Rodney . . .”

“What?!”

John looked down at his ‘Bite-me. I’m a genius boxers’ and Rodney followed his gaze.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

John tossed him his pants, walking out of . . . make that in to the door. “Ow . . . “ John grimaced, rubbing his nose.

Rodney pulled up his pants and pulled open a panel on the wall.

He already had two crystals rearranged when a gruff-but-alert voice came in over the radio. “This is General Henderson. There’s been an accident in Chem Lab 2. There were no casualties. An unknown mix of airborne chemical agents has been released into the lab section. Major Hailey is working with the filtration systems to solve the problem. We’ve put the base on temporary lockdown until this problem is resolved. For your own safety, please remain in your quarters and calm. We will be informing non-essential personnel of any updates by email. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Oh, this is great!” Rodney bitched, the second the announcement finished. “Some idiot . . . who’s in Lab 2?”

“Linskey and Patton.”

“Yeah, Linskey and Patton, those idiots, couldn’t find their dicks with a GPS and a Search and Rescue party . . .”

John rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know who Linskey and Patton are.”

Rodney hadn’t learned Zelenka’s name for nearly a year, and the guy was his right-hand man – did he really think he’d convince John he’d learned the name of two of the lower echelon chemistry peons in only a few weeks. “I do too,” Rodney said, defiantly. “They’re the two people stupid enough to release a random mix of chemicals into the air that we all kind of need, you know, for breathing.”

“And they’re two bioengineers recruited from the ROTC program at Wellesley, so you should be glad they can’t find their dicks, even with a really big search party.” John winked.

“Oh, just shut up.” Rodney waved his hand at him, plugging the computer into the wall and sitting down on the bed.

“What are you doing?” John asked, sitting down next to him.

“Seeing if I can find an override for these doors. Duh,” Rodney said, without looking up from his frantic typing. “You’ve got your radio on, don’t you?”

“Of course. Why?”

“So Henderson can contact you.”

“He’s not going to contact me.”

“Why not? Hmmm . . . looks like Hailey’s rewritten the main lockdown management code . . . . No matter. I am a genius, after all.”

“He’s not going to contact me because I know nothing about the chemical filtration system, and I’m not in charge of military operations anymore and did you ever stop to think that trying to open the doors with a mystery cocktail of airborne chemicals on the loose might not be the smartest thing?” John said, gripping Rodney’s hands and pulling them away from the keyboard.

“Yes, it did occur to me, but they need my help. I mean, I am the smartest man in almost two galaxies and when there are dangerous mind-eroding chemicals on the loose that could seep through the crack in the doorframe and kill me and my lover, then I need to, you know . . . be proactive.” Taken away from the keyboard, Rodney’s hands began to shake.

“Hey, hey . . . Henderson said everything’s fine. Major Hailey’s taking care of it.” John ran his hands down the side of Rodney’s face, kissing him as firmly as Rodney’s trembling lips would allow.

“Yeah right. Major Hailey’s just as much of a prideful, moody showoff as Sam ever said she was. I don’t know who in their right minds would put her in charge of research here.” If John remembered correctly, it was actually Sam’s recommendation, but seeing as how this was the first time Rodney’d been able to mention her name without disrupting the flow of normal conversation, he wasn’t going to push it. “She’s just a little girl . . . a little girl who can’t even write proper lockdown . . .”

“She got the whole damned city to submerge, you’d think she’d be able to operate the filtration systems?” It was a low blow, he knew, but he had a big meeting tomorrow and, he needed his beauty sleep. Besides, it wasn’t like, given the time and the power, Rodney wouldn’t’ have been able to figure out how to sink the city.

“Of course she can operate the filtration system. A blind paraplegic monkey could operate the filtration system if it was willing to wait a few hours for the sensors to finish their ridiculously slow precautionary contagion sweep. If I could just get to the mainframe, I could double, maybe triple the search-rate . . .”

“And expose yourself to the chemicals in the process? I hate to break it to you, Rodney, but I think we should sit tight and let the blind paraplegic monkeys handle this one,” John said, pulling Rodney back toward the bed. “Come on. We can at least get some sleep before the big long-term budget meeting tomorrow.”

“Hey, it’s more your meeting than mine . . . Boss.” Yet another thing Rodney was sore about . . . God, John’s night was going from bad to worse. It’s not like it was his fault that the higher-ups still wanted to keep this a military operation, even if they were allowing civilians now. “And besides, what if . . . what if they really do need me and the chemicals have eroded the communications system.”

“Come on. Even I know that there’s no chemicals that can interfere with radio waves.”

“You never know . . . certain chemical storms have been known to . . .”

“We have backup communication satellites in orbit.”

“Which only work when . . .”

“Rodney . . .” John warned.

“Fine. But how do we know that there really is a chemical spill? For all we know this is an alien foothold and they’ve already sucked General Henderson’s brain out and have hijacked his body to lure us into false calm so they can wander room to room at their leisure and eviscerate us?” How he managed to say that all in one breath, John still did not know, but it’d ceased to amaze him.

“Okay . . . no more horror movies for you.”

“But, you of all people should want to get out there and do something.”

John flopped back into bed, leaving his clothes on, just in case. “Check the sensors for a leak, if you have to. I’m tired. You can wake me when the brain-sucking aliens get here.”

“Ha-ha, very funny . . . make fun of the only one of the two of us who actually cares if we live or die.”

John used his gene to switch the lights off.

“Hey!”

“’Night, Rodney.”

There was some indistinct grumbling and sound of Rodney’s fingers speeding across the keyboard, as comforting as the crash of waves against the seashore.

A few minutes later there was some crashing and stumbling then a warm body slide in next to his.

“I hate you.”

John just smiled in the darkness.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. As if this morning’s budget briefing hadn’t been bad enough, with Rodney alternating between sarcastic criticism of most of the science staff (whose names he still didn’t know) and groping John under the table and Colonel Henderson second-guessing John’s every move, John now had to contend with Major Hailey, already on her tenth cup of coffee, and Patton and Linskey, the two culprits from last night’s disaster.

“We didn’t touch the containment units, Colonel. I swear,” Linskey said, bouncing up and down so her breasts bounced in her too-tight-for-regulations black t-shirt. She seemed to be determined to flirt her way out of this one, something John wasn’t exactly above doing himself.

Patton just pushed her glasses further up her nose and hiccupped. John turned to her. “Are you positive about this Lieutenant Patton?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“That shouldn’t’ve been a question,” Hailey snapped, putting her coffee cup down on the table with a little more force than it really deserved.

“How about you let me handle the questioning, Major Hailey?” John said, placatingly. “Now, Lieutenant, if you would please elaborate.”

“We decided to take the afternoon off to prepare our proposal for this morning’s budget meeting, Sir. So we weren’t even . . .” Linskey bounced.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Linskey, but I wasn’t asking you.” These ROTC recruits . . . they’d been offering them all the most tempting of deals to get the most promising ones to enlist and get around the “all military” restriction placed on the Atlantis expedition. The downside was that they behaved neither like military officers nor like contracted civilians.

He smiled his most winning smile at Patton. Hailey snorted and rolled her eyes.

“We decided to take the afternoon off to prepare our proposal for this morning’s budget meeting . . . Sir,” Patton said, looking down at her nails. They were painted pink but fortunately for her, John couldn’t actually remember if that was against regulations or not.

“The Colonel asked for your opinion, not hers,” Hailey said.

John shot her a glare. He was starting to get a headache.

“Yes, Ma’am. So, we checked the containment systems as is procedure before we left. It’s logged.”

“I know the procedure,” Hailey snapped.

John’d pull her out right now for KP fit for a cadet, if it weren’t for the knowledge that she’d been up all night dealing with a crisis that could’ve easily meant a lot of lives. So he calmed himself and asked. “At what time was this?”

“You’d have to check the logs, but I’d guess around three or four . . . “

“And did either of you make it back to the labs that night?”

Patton and Linskey looked at each other briefly then collectively shook their heads.

“I think I might’ve stopped by to make sure I turned off the coffee pot,” Linskey said, frowning. “But we definitely didn’t mess with any of the equipment if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No one else uses that lab?” John asked, even when he knew full well that they were the only two assigned to it.

Patton shook her head. “We do chemical delivery systems. . . you need a security clearance to even enter the place.”

Wait . . . security clearance? Delivery systems? This was the first he’d heard of this. “I thought you were part of Cheung’s lab in atmospheric sciences.”

Linskey finally had the presence of mind to look cowed. “Yes, Sir. Well, technically, widespread delivery systems require a great deal of atmospheric science.”

Damn. He really wished he’d gotten around to the individual interviews earlier. John tried to bury his frustration. If he showed any more anger, Patton’d probably wet her pants.

“And the purpose of this research is?”

“Mass inoculation with the ATA gene or any Wraith-feeding prophylactic with a manageable rejection rate, delivery of biological weapons against the Wraith, pure science,” Linskey rattled them off like a grocery list. Maybe she was more military than he’d previously assumed.

“As soon as they had budget approval they were ready to begin testing with our latest revision of the Hoffan vaccine, Sir,” Hailey informed him.

Shit . . . that almost sounded like all those conspiracy theories about why the military wanted control over Atlantis that he and Elizabeth had cooked up long ago. He rounded on Hailey. “You knew about this?!”

“Well, Sir, it’s a project listed in all the status reports, Sir.”

Yeah, maybe as a ten letter acronym without an explanation. “You know damned well that’s not true, Major.”

“We had approval directly from the Pentagon,” Linskey said, sounding smug.

“Who you’ve been in contact with for all of two months!”

“The project started before,” Patton shrugged. “We were desperate.”

Well, they had thought they were stranded out here, cut off from Earth for good, so maybe it was justified. But still . . . the Hoffan vaccine . . . an accidental leakage . . . it just wasn’t right.

He needed to think. He needed to talk to Rodney.

“Alright. Lieutenants, you’re dismissed – for now. I’d like a full report and a compilation of all your research material and associated paperwork by 0900 tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir,” they saluted him and scurried out.

Hailey made to do the same. “Hey, not so fast. I’d like a word with you.”

She whipped around, long braid flying, jaw jutting, her eyes like cold steel. “Yes, Sir.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Major. But I don’t like your attitude.” God, he never could’ve imagined himself saying that. “Let’s try for a little less trigger-happy and a bit more disciplined, okay?”

She shifted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. Sure, this had to be hard for her, having him supplant her job when she thought she was the one who knew this city inside out. But if John could get over General Henderson, she could deal.

He closed the door, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “Now, look, I have a feeling this might be deliberate.”

“I agree, Sir.”

“You agree? Well . . . good. Now, what I’d like . . .”

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

“Go ahead.” John just barely stifled a sigh.

“Linskey and Patton should be confined to quarters, Sir.”

“They should what? You think the two of them . . .”

“They’re the only ones with access to that lab, Sir. And if we’re going to go with deliberate, they’ve got to be our chief suspects.”

“I’m not ready to accuse them just yet, Major. Now, what I was going to order you to do was to check the logs. Check other people that were in the mess, the camera feeds, the data readouts, everything. We’ll know where to go from there. Has Ford got the lab sealed off?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Any another departments have access to the samples of that vaccine or the chemicals?”

“Pathology. Genetics. Electronics. Atmospheric science.”

“Okay. Then I want all samples accounted for and under guard.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hailey said again, though he doubted she was sincere. Then, quietly, “They’re not military, Sir.”

“Excuse me?” John glared.

“Linskey and Patton are not military, Sir!” she practically shouted, looking straight ahead.

“Last time I checked, we weren’t in the habit of awarding people the rank of Lieutenant who weren’t, Major.”

“Maybe you haven’t checked recently enough, Sir,” Hailey said.

“You are getting dangerously close to insubordination, Major!” John shouted, tight and angry and in her face.

Hailey just smiled slightly. “I apologize, Sir. Staying up late to save everyone’s asses does that.”

“You’re not as necessary to this expedition as you think, Hailey. I’d think long and hard about reassignment before I did something I’d regret.”

“Like you and Dr. McKay did before they kicked you out of the SGC?” Hailey said, snidely.

And just like that, all the anger left him. Was he really that hypocritical? Or was Hailey just a friend of Sam’s, holding a grudge? Had this thing really followed him a galaxy away? If it’d follow him to his 2IC here, it could follow him anywhere.

“Permission to be dismissed, Sir?”

“Granted,” John mumbled.

If there was no escaping, maybe they’d have to start thinking about living with it.

He found Rodney out on the west pier, staring out at the sea. He wasn’t hard to find – Atlantis had always liked John – but it hurt somehow that Rodney’d hike all the way out here without telling him about it.

“Hey. What’s going on?” John sat down beside him, taking care with a knee that didn’t even need taking care of anymore.

“Nothing,” Rodney was unusually taciturn, watching the suddenly somber clouds drift off into the sunset and patting his hand against his thigh with the slow rhythm of a funeral dirge.

“Are you still mad about last night?” John asked. Rodney had been a little harsh that morning at the budget meeting.

“Last night? Oh, no. How’s the investigation coming?”

“Badly. Patton and Linskey are clueless and Major Hailey might just be a real big bitch.”

“Really? Sam seemed to kind of like her,” Rodney remarked, reaching into John’s pocket and pulling out a power bar. “Want half?”

“It’s mine!” John tried half heartedly to snatch it back.

“Come on. You don’t even like them.”

“I . . . no, I really don’t, but I was saving it.”

“For what?”

“For favors.”

Rodney smiled slightly, leaning in. “Really? What kind of favors?”

If John just got even an inch closer, they could be kissing. And with Rodney’s hot breath brushing across his cheek, that sure was tempting, but . . . “Tell me why you’re out here moping at the sunset.”

“Oh,” Rodney pulled back as if burned, crossing his hands across his chest and not meeting John’s gaze. “I’m . . . I’m um . . . I’m pissed that you and . . . and . . .” he snapped his fingers, “Major Bitch, um . . . are in charge and I’m not. That’s it. I’m jealous. I’m a very jealous person. Smartest person in two galaxies and they give me a job below a blonde bimbo with an attitude problem and a flyboy whose only knowledge of chemistry comes from picking out his hair gel.”

John narrowed his eyes, letting Rodney know he wasn’t buying it. “Rodney, you know you can tell me . . . whatever’s bothering you . . . you know you can tell me, right?”

Rodney sighed exasperatedly, the annoyance genuine, for once. “I’ve never been afraid to tell you anything, John. You know that.”

“So what’s wrong?”

Rodney shrugged. “I’m just unsettled. That’s all.”

It was better, but John still wasn’t buying it. He knew that Rodney would never be afraid to tell him anything. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to protect him. John’d figure this out . . . he would. Though right now, he sensed, was not the time to push it.

“So,” Rodney said, drumming his hands on his thighs compulsively, “like my old job?”

John smiled. “It’s not exactly your old job, but yeah, bitchy majors and conspiracy theories not-withstanding, it’s good to be back.”

“Sure is,” Rodney said, with false enthusiasm. And John had a pretty good idea about what was really wrong.

They couldn’t really leave it all behind, no matter how badly Rodney wanted to. And it wasn’t just Major Hailey and her attitude or the five million things here that reminded them of their lives back on Earth. It wasn’t even college football and Starbucks and all the friends they’d left behind. It was the fact that Rodney had Max, and loved him, despite it all, and there was no way they could forget that.

“Hey, what do you say we go do it in the Chair Room?” John said, not liking the lost look on Rodney’s face.

“Don’t you have an investigation to conduct?”

“Nah. I sicc’d Hailey on it. We’ve got time.” Before, he’d put his job before everything . . . he didn’t have anything else. Maybe he was just getting older, but now, with the Wraith defeated and most of the disasters they had to deal with of their own making, he wanted to put other things first. And Rodney was the most important thing in his life. There was no question about that.

Major Hailey found them on their way back from the Chair Room and neither pretended not to know what they were doing or that she wasn’t disgusted by it.

“I checked the logs, Sir. Not a trace of anyone in or out after fifteen-thirty when Linskey and Patton exited together. I’ve got people checking the video feed for signs of tampering right now, but I have to admit that some of the containment protocol bugs I was reviewing looked pretty suspicious. Someone could have altered them.”

Rodney snapped his fingers, looking all the while as though his hair wasn’t rumpled and he didn’t smell like sex. “Let me see them.”

“I revised them when I was fixing the bugs.”

“You didn’t save them?! What, did you decide that they wouldn’t be helpful in building yourself a dollhouse?”

Hailey rolled her eyes. “I was trying to keep the leak from spreading. I didn’t have the time.”

“Two seconds . . . it’s two commands, three at most . . . you could’ve.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. McKay, but everyone’s not as perfect as you.”

“Of course you’re not.”

“You arrogant, self centered . . .”

Rodney was edging towards her, looking angrier by the minute. Hailey looked determined and way more formidable. John stepped between them.

“That’s enough, Major . . . both of you.” John gave Rodney what he hoped was a stern look. “Now, is that all you found?

Hailey nodded. “I still have to insist that Linskey and Patton are our prime suspects. Though the other department heads are familiar with their work, they are two of the five people on this base that even have a clue how to preprogram the chemical containment protocol to fail at a specific time. They had access to the lab, time to recode the protocols . . .”

“And no motive whatsoever,” Rodney sneered.

“Just because we don’t know the motive, doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

“Why in the hell would you create a leak in your own laboratory? Even if you were trying to destroy evidence, that would still attract undue attention.”

“I don’t know, but . . .”

It was John’s turn to interrupt. “So, who are the other three people?”

“What other three people?” Rodney and Hailey asked at the same time.

“The three other people who could’ve rewritten the code.”

Hailey sighed. “Well, two of them are standing in the room with you.”

“See, it could’ve been her,” Rodney insisted, pointing a finger. “She’s got more motives than I can count – jealousy, Trust operative, show-off, some other nefarious organization, but I think I’m going to have to go with my personal favorite: jealousy.”

“You wish, McKay,” Hailey snapped.

“Who’s the last person, Major?” John intervened . . . again.

“Captain Borskey, an airborne contagions expert from Russia.”

“Him then. We all know Russians can’t be trusted . . .”

“Rodney, could you hold on to the paranoid comments for just a minute while I finish my investigation?” John asked.

“Yeah, sure, but you did say . . .”

“Rodney.” Just because he loved Rodney didn’t mean the guy wasn’t frustrating as hell sometimes.

“Right, right, go on then.”

“Hailey, check more of the logs, look for Borskey, or anyone other than Linskey and Patton in that lab.”

“I’ve been working on a facial recognition software for base personnel, I could . . .” Rodney began.

“Good, then you can help her. I’m going to brief Henderson. Meet the two of you later.”

“But . . .” Both Rodney and Hailey said at the same time.

“Have fun,” John responded with a smirk.

Even after all these years, he still loved watching Rodney pout.

He found them together in the middle of a screaming match about half an hour later. “Hmm . . . it seems as though the two of you might’ve missed the exact meaning I was looking for when I said ‘cooperate.’”

Rodney whipped around to give him the best of his murderous betrayed looks. Hailey just looked like a bad case of PMS – which wasn’t much different than she always seemed to look.

“So, what’d the self-proclaimed two most brilliant minds in the city find while I was away?”

Hailey opened her mouth, but Rodney, quick to the draw as always, beat her to it. “It’s very interesting actually. As it just so happens, Wu was running an operations check at a very opportune time. As you know, the biometric sensors are usually set to background scanning mode, but five days ago at seven twenty-six pm, exactly, we have data indicating that a 65 kilo male, with a slightly irregular heartbeat, as associated with a specific type of chronic arrhythmia, entered the very lab under investigation. He was there for exactly 3.64 minutes during which time he accessed the main computer terminal in the lab and got out.”

John clapped his hands together, feeling a slight swelling of pride in his chest that Rodney had so easily solved what he thought was going to be a bitch of an investigate and interrogate. “Well, I think we’ve got this one solved.” He tapped his radio. “Security team one, please take Michael Borskey into custody for questioning.”

“But . . .” Hailey said.

“The evidence looks pretty clear to me, Major.”

“Yes, at first appearances, Sir,” Hailey continued, trying not to look too rebellious.

“But you disagree.” He didn’t hesitate to make his disapproval clear.

“Well, you haven’t been here, Sir.” A fact which she wouldn’t hesitate to rub in. “I know Captain Borskey quite well, and he’s a . . . well, he’s a bit . . . Russian, sometimes, but he’s a good man. He’s been carrying a torch for Lieutenant Linskey for some time now, and . . .”

“What, are we all supposed to giggle and go home and write about this in our diaries?” Rodney interrupted.

Hailey shot him a glare. “You can if you want, Dr. McKay. Look, all I’m saying is that practically the entire base knows that he did it to slip Linskey a note for her birthday. Dr. McKay can pull it up for you.”

John turned. “Rodney?”

“Well, yes, there’s a message. Something sappy about wishing her the time of her life and inviting her for a birthday drink or something ridiculous like that. But, honestly, that’s the best cover-up. Hide it in plain sight.”

“There’s no sign of a hack,” Hailey protested.

“Other than the ‘suspicious code’ you yourself found!”

“There’s nothing linking that to the note! Are you such a loveless old man that you can’t see a guy sneaking into a lab just to do something a little romantic?” Well, Rodney wasn’t one for flowers and Valentines Day and all that, but he was a romantic at heart – if a closeted one. He wouldn’t be with John otherwise.

“Oh, that’s right, just because it’s fluffy and flowery and romantic, we’re supposed to say ‘awww, how cute’ and walk away? He probably knew you’d get all girly about it and protect him.”

“ You can’t . . . that’s just . . . you misogynist asshole.”

Well, that was kind of deserved. But regardless, John needed to stop this before it became an all and out catfight. “Alright, children, settle down. I’m not going to jump to any conclusions before we at least hear from the suspect. And I’d prefer the two of you didn’t accompany me to the interview.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hailey acquiesced.

“He’s from KlenCorp, and we know that they once received research material from the Trust . . .” Rodney added.

“I know. I read his file.” Despite his promise for a fair trial, John was pretty convinced that Borskey wasn’t sending a simple love letter. He looked down at his watch – it was getting late. “Hey, Rodney, how about you try to get a little unpacking done before I get home?”

“So what am I now? The dutiful housewife?” Rodney bitched, stomping out of the lab.

“I’m going to stay for a while, check things over, if that’s alright, Sir.”

John sighed and nodded, knowing that Rodney’d be going through logs from his laptop instead of unpacking.

“Fine, Major,” John sighed, heading off to the conference room, where Borskey would undoubtedly be waiting.

As he walked down the corridors, he should’ve been thinking about the possibility of the Trust infiltrating Atlantis, of motives and possibilities and interrogations, but instead he was thinking about that lost look on Rodney’s face and how maybe he didn’t want to be out here at all, even as the Atlantean sun on his face and the waves crashing against the pier and the stars so clear and bright felt like coming home.

Atlantis whispered small comforts to him as he ambled down her spacious corridors, but somehow they weren’t enough to quell his unease.

Borskey was stocky but not without muscle. His thick red beard looked almost cartoon-like, but his eyes were mysterious, dark and inviting as the unexplored cave that haunted the dreams of the collective mind. He even looked suspicious.

“Why’d you do it?” John said.

“She have very large titties,” Borskey responded, cool and clichéd and sexist as a Bond villain.

“How very . . . observant of you, Captain.” This was going to be a long interview.

Borskey had maintained his innocence even as John had just gotten more and more convinced of his guilt. They didn’t have evidence that would hold any sort of weight in a court of law. All they really had was evidence that he could get into the labs and had done so. What they really needed (other than a confession) was evidence that he’d done so again, or that his note to Linskey actually covered a hack into the system - either that or evidence against him from Earthside. John was afraid that they’d both be too long in coming. He could only hope to send the guy back to Earth for further questioning.

John shook his head. This was the part of the job he hated. He wasn’t an investigator. He was a pilot first and then a soldier and an accidental scientist. He was neither judge, lawyer nor policeman. He hadn’t even wanted to be a policeman when he was growing up – only an astronaut.

As he approached to door to his and Rodney’s apartment, much closer to the labs than his old one had been, he crossed his fingers and hoped that Rodney had found something.

But when he stepped inside, Rodney wasn’t sitting at the kitchen table munching on something and frantically typing one-handed like he expected him to be. He let the door slide silently shut, frowning.

Something kept him from calling out though – the harsh echo of voices . . . actually, a voice from the bedroom.

“And it’s not that I resent him. I mean, John’s very good at his job. If it has to be someone else, especially military, he’s at the top of my list. I just . . . I just feel as though . . . I don’t know, maybe this isn’t what we need. I love Atlantis. John loves it more. You should see the smile on his face when things light up for him, when he looks out at the sea. He’s so beautiful. It’s like he’s part of it. I just . . . it doesn’t feel right anymore. It’s changed so much.”

Who the hell was Rodney talking to? His shrink? Did they do house calls? He didn’t have many friends here, as Rodney always dedicated the first few weeks in a place to making enemies. John walked further into the apartment, knowing he was snooping, but unable to tear himself away.

“I’m thankful for everything you did for him. Seeing him happy and whole and in his element . . . well, I wish you could see. We’re both grateful.” Rodney being gracious, this was certainly a new concept. But who had done something for John? Sam? It couldn’t be. But then again, it sure as hell wasn’t Skadi.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this . . . probably just putting my foot in my mouth again, though I’m sure you’re used to it. You put up with so much, Sam.” Sam? He was sending a message to Sam? “You were great. You were really great. You were beautiful and smart and kind and I have to be the biggest idiot in the world to screw our marriage up, because it’s something most guys . . . I would’ve . . . most guys would kill for a wife like you, Sam.”

Did Rodney want to get back together with Sam? He couldn’t . . . he’d said . . . . Luckily, Rodney continued before John could get too worked up about it.

“But, for some insane reason, I fell in love with John. And that’s not to say I didn’t love you . . . because I did. I still do. I just . . . I’m not good with people, and . . . no, that’s all wrong. I don’t think it’s even true to say that I love John more. Because, love . . . well, it’s not so quantifiable, now is it? I just know that I have to be with John. We’ve been through so much together . . . we understand each other . . . not that you and I didn’t . . . most of the time. It’s just that, John and I . . . I just know that’s what’s right for me.”

“And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If you’re even watching this, I want you to know that if I could’ve done this without hurting you, I would’ve. Because, it’s the strangest thing, but when I see you hurting, I hurt too. This is me we’re talking about, but it’s true. And I wanted to tell you. I really did. I was waiting for the right time, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make myself hurt you. It was like trying to shoot myself in the foot or something . . . not that I would ever do that . . . which I guess is the point, isn’t it?”

“I know . . . I’m an asshole. I’m an asshole for waiting until I was a galaxy away for getting around to saying all the things I should’ve before you even found out about me and John. I should’ve told you after, too, but well . . . when you’re yelling at me, my first instinct is to yell back. You know that. And I apologize for that, too. I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“And believe it or not, despite all the fights we used to get into and everything . . . not that us fighting is the reason I . . . all couples fight, right? Well, what . . . what I think I was trying to say was that I miss you. I know that I hurt you and that you have no obligation to forgive me, but I’m sorry and maybe . . . if I wasn’t in another galaxy and everything, we could’ve made things better, been friends again. Please . . . um . . . please let me know if you watch this, even if it is just a message saying that I’m a cheating arrogant son-of-a-bitch not fit to clean a rhinoceros’ teeth with. Say hi to Max for me.”

John felt delicate, broken by the vulnerability that Rodney had shown, by the longing in his voice, by everything the man he loved had given up to be with him.

But there was no way he could have both. There was no way he could be with John without hurting Sam or vice-versa. There was one choice and yet none. There was no compromise. Or was there?

He heard the click of a laptop shutting, and then footsteps padding in from the bedroom.

Rodney was wearing a pair of John’s boxers – some stretchy flannel ones, and mismatching socks. He looked tired, but relaxed in a way he hadn’t since they arrived on Atlantis. Maybe he just needed to get that off his chest. Maybe he was just frustrated – John sure as hell was. Maybe he was just getting a little sentimental. That was it. Sure, that was it.

“Hey,” Rodney froze, exposing the full ridiculousness of his too-tight boxers and his socks.

“Hey.”

“When’d you get here?”

“Just now.” John really didn’t feel up to having an argument about snooping. “What were you up to?”

“Oh, nothing . . . notes. Haven’t found clues in the command code. Hailey must’ve deleted them all. Are you sure it wasn’t her? I mean, I have a bad feeling about that woman . . . kind of like indigestion, but in the groin area . . . like she’s about to punch me in the nuts or something. And I know you’ve been telling me to trust my instincts . . .”

“I’ve never told you that. Your instincts usually suck.”

Rodney only frowned momentarily. “Huh. Must’ve been Sam then.” He shrugged.

John doubted Sam would ever give such dangerous advice.

“So, you haven’t found anything?”

“Well, I found something. I found out why the Trust is so interested in the project.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s classified beyond belief. I mean, Henderson might know, but none of us lowly peons is supposed to, which I guess is typical of a military operation . . . . Look, Linskey and Patton are not the ditzy bimbos they pretend to be, and they probably never went to Wellesley, which does not have a biochem department in all likelihood. They’re both military scientists hired out of the weapons research facility that the US Army isn’t supposed to have in Virginia.”

“And you know this, how?”

“First of all, I used to work there. And secondly, when I was digging through their research material for any clues, I found some memos between Linskey and my old boss, and they’re some of the nastiest reading you’ll come across.”

“Why?”

“Possible Earthside applications for biochemical dispersal systems and suggested agents. Gene-therapy, sedatives, hallucinogens, racially specific pathogens, chemicals I haven’t even heard of. And the worst part: most of these communications are dated two days before we lost contact with Atlantis.”

“You think they cut themselves off deliberately?”

“Well, with Congressional oversight as it is, and the new administration . . . it would be better to escape scrutiny, wouldn’t it? Not to mention the obvious strategic value if the Wraith truly could track the energy signatures of dialing another galaxy.”

“Alright . . . alright, so Atlantis is corrupt, maybe even Henderson is corrupt.”

“And Hailey too.”

“She thought Linskey and Patton were guilty from the beginning.”

“Yeah, to cover her own ass! She knows I’m a genius . . . that I’d figure it out eventually! She’s clearly working with the enemy . . .”

John rolled his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go get ourselves an interview with the popular girls.”

“Don’t you want to call for security backup or something?” Rodney squeaked.

“We don’t want to scare them. Besides, we still don’t know if they’d committed anything more than a moral hazard. I mean, what motive do they have to destroy their own research?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe to test the stuff out?”

“Maybe.” John punctuated with statement by pulling his sidearm out of its holster and checking it. He’d missed its familiar weight at his side.

The corridors were dark and he could feel Rodney shaking behind him, practically vibrating the air around him. The familiar spike of adrenaline thrilled up his spine as he made his way to Linskey’s quarters, knocking discreetly on the door. No-one answered, despite the late hour.

“Maybe they’re in the lab.” Linskey and Patton, like John and Rodney, both had quarters close to the lab section of Atlantis. They made their way over there quietly, only to find the limp bodies of the two guards John’d stationed outside the lab for the duration of the investigation.

“Shit,” John said.

“See . . . I knew this could get bad. I knew . . . how could I forget how much I hate being utterly terrified?”

Back when they were a team, John would’ve told Rodney to put a sock in it, but now he turned around just briefly to give him a tender, reassuring gaze . . .

. . . which was just enough time for Patton to slam the butt of her weapon into the back of his head. John felt himself stumble, crashing down into Rodney, who spluttered and squawked, trying to simultaneously push John off of him and unholster his sidearm.

John managed to roll off of him, skull pounding. He felt blood dripping down the back of his neck, felt a familiar lightheaded dizziness. He couldn’t stand, only crouch there until the momentary vertigo passed.

Rodney’s hands were on his neck. “Are you alright?”

John tried to nod, but it just made his vision blur.

“Good,” Rodney said, and then he was gone – gun drawn.

John forced his fingers up to activate his radio. After assaulting the head of scientific operations, there was only one place in this city Patton could go. “Security team to the Jumper Bay,” John ordered, staggering to his feet and running as fast as he dared to try and catch up with Rodney.

As much as Rodney said he hated being terrified, he sure put John through it enough. ‘Please let him not have done anything stupid,’ John thought, though he never would’ve let Rodney know that. For a smart man, Rodney was capable of a huge array of stupid things. ‘Don’t be a hero.’ They were beyond great battles and die-hard heroism now. Now, all they needed to fight for was the safety they’d finally found together after all these years.

And then he was barreling through the doors of the Jumper Bay to the sound of Rodney’s panicked shouts. His weapon raised, John was ready to do anything to make that sound stop – to make sure that Rodney was okay. He scanned the area. Nobody to be seen, but the shouts were coming from behind Jumper 2. He crouched down, senses alert and awake, old skills coming back to him like familiar friends.

And then he was edging around the corner to find Patton at the helm of Jumper 3, with Linskey standing there, gun pointed to a very valuable throat, Rodney whimpering and struggling half-heartedly.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone, Colonel,” Linskey said calmly. “I just want to go back to Earth. Let me dial the Gate and I’ll return your boyfriend on the other side, unharmed.”

The fear in Rodney’s eyes was all-consuming as John looked at him down the barrel of his gun. He could let her do it. She was a scientist and Rodney was valuable to the program; she wasn’t just going to kill him. Linskey and Patton would try to disappear into the welcoming arms of the military bureaucracy that’d hired them, their research along with them, but if Henderson was in on it, the government would get the research no matter what. The only thing he could do to stop it would be to shoot, risk court martial for it, risk his own moral hazard of killing someone that he knew in his heart of hearts wasn’t a true threat of her own right . . . someone who didn’t necessarily deserve it.

He paused, caught in a web of indecision. Linskey began to inch backwards towards the bay of the Jumper. John couldn’t move. He couldn’t risk taking the shot so close to Rodney . . . he couldn’t . . .

And then a strange calm settled over him, warm and fuzzy and hopeful like a long . . .

Sleep.

The last thing he saw as he lost consciousness was the blue of Rodney’s eyes.

Someone was tapping him insistently on the cheek. It was dark. Where was he? What was happening? He remembered before he had the courage to open his eyes. He’d been drugged. Linskey and Patton had used their chemical weapons against him . . . Rodney’d be gone, taken hostage. He didn’t want to wake up to that sort of world.

But the tapping was insistent.

He flung out a hand defensively. “Stop it.”

“Sorry, Colonel.”

He opened his eyes to a concerned female face leaning down from above him. “Hailey?” So, they’d escaped then, and Hailey was waking him to explain the situation to O’Neill at the SGC. Or maybe Rodney was right . . . maybe she was actually working with them and she was about to do god-knows-what to him. “Where’s Rodney? What do we have to do? We have to stop them . . .”

Hailey smiled benevolently down on him, as though indulging a spoiled child. “He’s over there - hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Linskey and Patton?”

“In the brig awaiting questioning.”

John rubbed his head. He didn’t remember winning this one. “Huh?”

“I spent a hell of a lot of time looking at this chemical dispersal system. We’re just lucky it works as well with sedatives as it does with other things.”

John forced himself to sit, allowing Hailey to help him up. “You gassed us?”

“I hope you’ll forgive me, Sir.” She seemed to be trying to manage sincere, though it still sounded mostly sarcastic.

John smiled, making his way over to where Rodney was propped up against the side of the Jumper, mumbling and fidgeting like he sometimes did in the morning before waking up. “You did good in my job, didn’t you, Hailey?”

“Yes, Sir, I did,” she said, not bothering to hide the slight tinge of resentment in her voice.

Rodney was mumbling and John could just make out one word, repeated: ‘Max.’

“Maybe you could use a promotion,” John murmured to Hailey, dropping down to his knees to stroke Rodney’s cheek, feeling the muscles wake up beneath his palm.

Rodney’s eyes slitted open, his lips smiling just slightly. “John? What happened?”

“Hailey got them, Superman. All we had to do was get drugged for it.”

“Told you she was evil,” Rodney mumbled, burying his face in John’s palm.

John lowered himself until he was sitting next to Rodney, leaning up against Jumper 3. “He used say the same thing about me,” he told Hailey with a wink. “Do you think you could give us some time?”

“Of course, Sir,” Hailey said with what looked suspiciously like an ‘aw, how cute’ smile on her face.

John leaned over to give Rodney a kiss on the forehead.

Rodney’s eyes flew open again. “Is she gone?”

“Yeah, she’s gone.”

“I still don’t like her. Why’d you offer her a promotion? It’s not like it takes a genius to release a little sleeping gas.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have thought of it, and I’m supposed to be the always-clever Captain James T. Kirk.”

Rodney snorted. “Sure. So how do you like being an action hero again?”

John was exhilarated by it, to tell the truth. He’d missed this excitement, in a way. He wasn’t meant to be on the sidelines, even though he’d learned that sometimes, doing nothing was the best play. He shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”

“Okay, you guess? They’re never going to make a miniseries about you with that attitude.”

John smiled. “I don’t mind it. I just . . . well, I liked my old job too. I got to fly. I got to be kinda geeky sometimes. A lot less paperwork and yelling at people . . . a lot less stress. Guys our age don’t need stress.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for years now.”

“I’ve been saying the same thing to you, but mostly because yours is largely self-created.”

“It is not! Being chased by aliens with very pointy spears is stress whether or not you decide to panic.”

John smiled a mostly fake smile. It hurt his pride to do this, but it would be worth it. “I guess that’s kind of my point. I like Atlantis. I like my job and the people here. But Earth is our home. We have work to do there, family and friends and a whole life. And I’m not entirely sure I want to trade all that for stress and attempted murder.”

“You want to move back?”

“If you do.”

“That would be . . . well . . . ahem . . . I . . . er . . . have to think about it. But, you know how I feel about pointy spears and stress and attempted murder. And it would give me more of a chance to see Max . . . maybe try to fix things with Sam a little. I know I’m invaluable here, but I’m invaluable everywhere, so . . . I mean . . . it’d probably be for the best. If you’re sure.” Rodney’s eyes were bright and expectant, but worried, like he was trying not to eye his top choice so he could get a better deal. “Are you sure about this?”

John leaned back against the wall, felt the comforting hum of the Puddle Jumper against his back and at the back his mind. He felt its entreaty, the wonder of flying, of having this small secret connection all his own, of the great ocean and the clear nights bright with stars and stardust and many more constellations than the Milky Way.

He ran his fingers along the hull reverently, even as he leaned over, pressing his body to Rodney’s and wrapped his arms around him to never let go.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Rodney made a valiant attempt to hide all of the gratitude spilling out of him and into their kiss, but John didn’t care; he drank it all, knowing for once, that they were doing the right thing.