“Yes, yes, diagnostics,” Zelenka muttered, shaking his head. “Don’t you have a mission now?”

“We do, which means Dr. McKay is going to walk through the ‘gate right now,” John said firmly, urging Rodney to follow Teyla and Dex, who had just breached the event horizon.

“Alright, alright,” Rodney grumbled, taking one last backwards glance at Zelenka as he and John reached the ‘gate. “Why do we have to rush this mission? I’ve got to make sure that—

Rodney was still speaking when they began to walk through the ‘gate. Just as they started through, however, an ear-piercing explosion ripped through the ‘gate room.

•••

“Ow.”

“Yeah,” John whispered in response to Rodney’s groaning. “That hurt.” John groped around blindly until he was reassured that all his limbs were still attached. They were, but did they ever hurt.

Rodney rolled over, cradling the arm he’d landed on. “See? I told you we shouldn’t have rushed this mission.”

John picked himself up and looked around, quickly giving Rodney a once-over to make sure he wasn’t seriously injured. “Um, Rodney?” He murmured quietly as he took in the sight of a completely abandoned ‘gate room.

“Where is everybody?” Rodney asked, having gained his footing. “Dr. Weir?” He called out frantically. “Is this some kind of joke?”

John turned around slowly. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Rodney.” Yeah, they were in the ‘gate room, but it wasn’t the same. Hadn’t Rodney demanded they remove that section of frosted-glass paneling so he could see the ‘gate more clearly?

Rodney, however, had already figured that out. “All of our equipment is gone. Everything. Where are Dex and Teyla?” When Rodney cued his radio, all he got was John—and no one else. There wasn’t even feedback from the city’s central communications system.

“What was that explosion?” John asked as he walked up to the ‘gate controls. “Right when we were walking through...”

“I know, I know,” Rodney said impatiently, joining John at the controls. “Something must have malfunctioned with the ‘gate. Power supply perhaps, a fluctuation... Huh.” Rodney checked the control monitor again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, his first conclusion was correct.

“Huh?” John echoed. “As in...”

“We’re underwater,” Rodney muttered nervously. “Oh my god.”

“How’d we get back underwater?” John asked. “The place is just like when we first got here, isn’t it?” And it made perfect sense all of a sudden: the lack of people and Earth tech, the magically reappearing paneling, their location beneath the ocean.

“Precisely like it was,” Rodney concurred. “Right down to the power left in the ZedPMs keeping the shield up.”

“Don’t turn anything on,” John warned. “Rodney, do I want to know how we ended up in an abandoned version of our city?” Or was this a matter of when and not where. Unfortunately Rodney wasn’t up to actually answering John’s question. Instead, he was pacing around, screaming and muttering about death and blood and starvation. John was wondering where this universe’s version of himself was—had he died in Afghanistan? It didn’t look like he arrived in Atlantis, but what if this was the past? What if it was their past and everyone was on Earth, not yet ready to traverse to Atlantis?

John let Rodney’s ranting flow past him, curling around his head before darting around the ‘gate room and careening off every available surface. He was simultaneously relieved and infuriated. Relief came from knowing that, in the midst of what John considered the most existentially frightening experience of his life, Rodney was solid as bedrock and still himself. Even when they had no idea what was going on, or why, or if they would ever find a way to something approaching normal, Rodney found the energy and wherewithal to rant. Infuriation came from that same source, however. John needed a quiet moment to think, to gather himself together, to regroup and figure out a way to pull their asses out of this most-current crisis. How the hell were they supposed to get back home? Were they home, and everyone else was dead? It didn’t seem likely, but still... And damn, his body hurt. Going through the ‘gate hadn’t ever hurt like this before.

Unfortunately, Rodney was yelling something about wrinkles and improbability and power fluctuations in ten thousand year old equipment and John was sure Rodney knew what he was talking about but to John it was all so much buzzing, like a hive of bees flitting around the room. One would land on him and he’d try to swat it away and regain his calm, only to have a dozen more bombard him for his efforts. Rodney needed to shut up, he really did, before John did something regrettable and physical. Something that would lead to blood spattering on the floor and Rodney staring up at him, hand wiping gore from his mouth, with that hurt expression Rodney got whenever anyone actually managed to disappoint him. John had a feeling he was the only person on Atlantis that got that look from Rodney, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that—whether it was a compliment to his importance in Rodney’s very strange existence, or an insult to his arbitrarily defined intelligence.

Rodney, not being the observant type, failed to notice that John wanted him to shut the fuck up. Glaring wasn’t helping, nor was pacing loudly. He just kept talking, waving those damned hands around but that wasn’t as annoying as his voice. John had, over the course of several months, learned the language of Rodney’s hands. Their vocabulary was limited but eloquent, mostly spitting out profanity and insults, along with the occasional hyperbolic emphasis for whatever Rodney’s mouth was saying. Maybe not as annoying as Rodney talking, but still damned irritating and why wouldn’t Rodney shut up? John really didn’t want to hurt Rodney, he didn’t. Seeing Rodney hurt would only make John’s bad day even worse; Rodney hurt was one of those things John dreaded, even more than hungry Wraith and goddamned Genii. In fact, Rodney was the only person on Atlantis John wouldn’t sacrifice for the good of the city, and he could only tell himself it was because of the man’s genius for so long.

“And you aren’t listening to me, but that won’t matter if we don’t find a way to reverse whatever’s happened!” Rodney grumbled, finally seeing the tight yet distracted look on John’s face. Once again he’d lost the man, although to John’s credit he held onto what Rodney said longer than most people. “I realize this is a bit beyond you, but to be honest—and take not that I don’t say this kind of thing very often—it’s a bit beyond me as well, which doesn’t bode well for our surviv—

John slammed his mouth against Rodney’s, a maneuver just painful enough to shock Rodney into silence. He wasn’t even trying to talk, so John deepened the kiss, easing back just a little on the pressure so Rodney didn’t bruise from it. At first, Rodney was unnaturally still, but that was before John’s tongue stroked against his and then John found himself being kissed back. Only this wasn’t a kiss, because kissing was lips and tongues and the occasional, accidental tap of teeth. What Rodney was doing was a lot more like sex, only without the sex part; John let his mouth fall farther open as Rodney fucked him with his tongue, teasing and demanding. John needed to breathe but Rodney wouldn’t let him, at least not until he had John spun around and shoved hard against the ‘gate. One deep breath and Rodney was back, mouth hot and slick as he took John apart with it. All John could do was hang on and be silently thankful that he hadn’t hit Rodney, because if he had, Rodney never, ever would’ve kissed him and this was something John didn’t want to miss. Rodney was talented at kissing, but just as importantly, even with his talent Rodney couldn’t talk and kiss at the same time. All John could hear was his heartbeat thumping in his ears and the blurry whisper of him and Rodney kissing.

Finally Rodney rocked back, blinking furiously and licking his lips. “Colonels,” He muttered, suddenly frowning. “Always Colonels. We need to run some tests on the ‘gate.”

John dragged his gaze away from Rodney’s mouth. “What kind of tests?” John asked. He wanted to ask about the Colonel comment. Actually, he wanted to kiss Rodney again—or better yet, have Rodney kiss him. Rodney was really good at kissing; distracting and wholly consuming and very, very silent. Rodney was also much calmer now, and that made John feel slightly less like his head was going to cave in. If Rodney kept kissing him, maybe John wouldn’t succumb to the lingering desire to lose his freaking mind.

“Just to see if it works, and exactly how much power the city has,” Rodney said, walking over to the control area.

“Right,” John agreed, shoving aside the desire to make sure Rodney didn’t get wound up and off on a spiel again.

“And...how did we get here?” John asked again. “Wherever we are.”

Rodney didn’t answer immediately; he’d pulled a data pad out of his vest and was working furiously. After a minute, he looked up at John. “What?” John was grinding his teeth and grimacing, which Rodney took to mean he was nervous. That worried Rodney even more than what he’d found; John didn’t get nervous unless a Wraith had him by the neck or someone was shooting people.

John bit his lip to keep from yelling at the scientist. “How did we get here?”

“I’m working on it,” Rodney huffed, relieved that John was simply impatient. “My first guess, working without sufficient data, is that we’re in another dimension.” Having made that statement, Rodney went back to his calculations.

“Another dimension?” John said dumbly. “Like how the other Elizabeth did her thing with the Ancients?”

“Not really,” Rodney replied distractedly. “Alternate reality, alternate dimension, call it what you want. She went back in time too, you see. From what I can tell, we’re at the same point in time as we were before we went through the ‘gate. We’re just...in another Atlantis.”

“Oh shit,” John cursed. “We’ve got to raise the city.” Going back in time wouldn’t have bothered John as much. Or maybe it would’ve bothered him more, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that the city didn’t have much power left—even less if this version had been immersed all those extra months. The Atlanteans hadn’t planned on them being a year late in arriving and Elizabeth’s work throughout the millennia was based on some pretty careful predictions.

“Yes, eventually,” Rodney concurred. “There’s not enough power to keep the environmental controls running, as well as the shields.” He tapped on the controls and the city began to move swiftly upwards. “That should do it.”

“How do we get back?” John asked, feeling very slightly less frightened now that the city was on its way up. At least they wouldn’t be killed by the ocean. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And Rodney wasn’t freaking out anymore, which really was good. Rodney thought well when he was freaking out, but he thought better when he was calm.

Rodney looked up from his data pad. “I’m working on it, John. Transdimensional travel isn’t exactly easy.” As if to prove his point, the last calculation he’d put into his data pad came back with an error. Rodney cursed silently as he began all over again. This wasn’t his specialty; hell, it wasn’t anyone’s specialty so all the research out there was strictly theoretical. He’d just eliminated one possible explanation, but that left thousands of others to try out before something made sense of the limited information he had.

“You don’t know how to get us back,” John surmised as he tamped down the panic clawing back up in his mind. Then a thought occurred to him. “So if we never made it to Atlantis in this dimension, doesn’t that mean the Wraith are still in hibernation?”

“Maybe,” Rodney agreed, “But maybe not. There’s no way of knowing without going somewhere to find out—something that’s rather low on my priorities at the moment.”

“What about Elizabeth?” John pushed. “If this city is still functional, that means there’s a version of her here.”

“Of course,” Rodney concurred, “Not that it’ll do us any good. Remember what happened when she woke up last time? That’s what’ll happen this time too. If it already hasn’t, of course; we’re at the same point in time here as they are back on our Atlantis. She should’ve already woken up in this dimension.”

“And died,” John surmised. “Since she didn’t live long last time.”

A sigh came in response to that, and the sound of Rodney’s hands sliding across the controls. “Or not; maybe she woke up, saw that no one was here, did her thing and went back into stasis. If she’s dead, we can’t do anything for her, John. And if she’s still in stasis and not dead, we still can’t do anything for her. No medical team here, remember?”

“Have you figured out what’s going on?” John asked instead of pursuing that line of thought. He’d already considered just what it meant to be stuck in an Atlantis without anything but what they had on them. No food, no water, no power, limited armaments... Except for Rodney. Having Rodney here was probably the only thing keeping John from freaking out completely. Rodney, who wasn’t freaking out about John kissing him. Or him kissing John right back.

When Rodney didn’t answer, John looked up from the spot on the floor he’d been using as a focus. Rodney was staring past him, right at the dormant stargate. The expression on Rodney’s face was a cross between horror and noncomprehension, so John looked over at the ‘gate himself.

“What the fuck?” John whispered, leaning forward. “Dex? Weir?”

Rodney pushed past him, running down to stand in front of the ‘gate. John was right behind, staring at the translucent forms of their team member and leader. They reminded John a little of the holographic stuff Atlantis had so much of, but when Dex and Weir talked, all he heard was a dim murmur.

John reached out, only to have his hand slide right through Dex’s arm. It felt like nothing—as though Dex wasn’t there at all. “Rodney...”

“I’m working on it,” Rodney snapped, tapping madly. “They obviously can’t see or hear us, and we can barely see or hear them.”

“Not at all now,” John informed him as Weir and Dex vanished. “But I think they were talking about us. I heard your name.”

Rodney nodded and began to pace. “Actually, this makes sense,” He said, starting up another series of calculations. “Not that it’s going to help us in the short-term.”

“What kind of sense?” John asked, preferring not to think about the possible futility of whatever Rodney was thinking.

It was another five minutes before Rodney bothered to answer him. When Rodney looked up, he found John seated by the ‘gate, tapping his fingers impatiently on his knees. “According to some dimensional theories, there are an infinite number of possible dimensions.”

“I’ve read Asimov,” John bit out. “You can skip the high-school stuff.”

Rodney’s huff was oddly reassuring. “Fine. Most theories are predicated on the notion that all dimensions are independent. Some are very similar, but each progresses on its own.”

John simply stared this time, hard enough that Rodney’s eyes began to twitch. “That independence is why each dimension feels like it’s the only dimension. That and a lot of other stuff is why dimensions don’t cross, or merge, or do any of the idiotic things you see in bad science fiction movies.”

“Except that what’s going on here proves that dimensions aren’t independent because this dimension isn’t independent of our own dimension?” John guessed. “If we can see them,” He continued, waving a hand at where Weir and Dex had been, “Then these two dimensions aren’t operating on their own.”

“Maybe,” Rodney corrected. “We don’t know for sure that the Weir and Dex we saw are from our own dimension. However, if I make the assumption that what we just saw was a ghost-image or flash of our own dimension, leaking through to this one, then I can rule out about 99% of the possible explanations for what happened to send us here, and why we’re here, and—

“How to get us home?” John interjected hopefully.

“Eventually,” Rodney replied. “That part will take a lot longer; for one, the calculations will take time, and for another, one thing of which I am fairly confident is that the incident that caused us to end up here took a massive surge of power. At the moment, we don’t have anything on hand to replicate that level of power, and it’s going to take something along the lines of what sent us here to get us back.”

John let his eyes slip closed. “So we might be stuck here?”

Rodney hesitated. “I’m sure I can get us back. Just...it might take longer than either of us would like.”

“And in the meantime, we have no supplies,” John reminded him. “Other than the dozen or so powerbars you’ve got in your vest.”

Rodney’s hands came up to wrap around his vest. “And they’re mine! But you bring up a good point; we’re going to have to devise a way to get some supplies. Power, food, that kind of thing. We can’t even turn on the desalinization units right now.”

“Can we even dial out?” John asked worriedly. “And how many times?”

Rodney paced back and forth a few times, muttering under his breath and waving his hands. “Dagan.”

“Dagan?” John echoed. “As in, let’s go get the ZPM on Dagan?”

“Exactly!” Rodney confirmed excitedly. “It’s perfect, John. In this dimension, they don’t know about us. You can sneak over, go get it and we’ll have power!”

John restrained the urge to throw something at Rodney. “And how, precisely, am I supposed to get past Allina? And why does it have to be me? She liked you a lot better.”

“Catburglary?” Rodney suggested. “Besides, someone has to stay here. We can’t leave the city without oversight; remember all the things that went wrong the first time we arrived here?”

“Like the—

“Dark,” Rodney finished for John. “This is going to be hell.”

“Going to Dagan for their ZPM is going to be hell,” John informed Rodney. “And I still think you should do it. Last time, they didn’t give it to you because you told them we weren’t Ancients. This time, you can go and lie about it.”

Rodney frowned and John wasn’t sure if it was because he was thinking about the plausibility of that modification to his plan, or because of some sudden burst of morality that made the idea of lying to obtain a ZPM distasteful. “I don’t know,” Rodney finally admitted, still frowning.

“Even you could pull this off,” John assured him, “The Genii won’t be around, Allina won’t know you aren’t Ancient, and you know how all the booby traps work.” John pushed aside the oddly green feeling he got when he thought about Allina. Rodney had liked her a lot, not that John cared one way or another about who Rodney liked. Rodney seemed to like Colonels, if his incoherent mutterings could be trusted. John liked physicists, or at least one of them, and he didn’t want one particular physicist to run off with a certain archeologist.

“No, I don’t know if I trust you not to destroy the city in my absence,” Rodney snapped. “The rest wouldn’t be difficult—provided this dimension is as similar to ours as we’re assuming it to be. After all, the Wraith could be awake, or Dagan could’ve...”

John stood up and walked over to Rodney, reaching out to shake the obviously-panicking man by the shoulders. “We can’t think like that, Rodney. We need a ZPM since there aren’t any naquadah generators here. Otherwise we’re stuck by ourselves and as brilliant as you are, and as tactically proficient as I am, we can’t defeat the Wraith alone.”

Rodney slumped against John’s hands, sighing softly. “I know, I know. I’m trying, for your sake, to quell my normal chicken-little tendencies.”

“Thanks,” John replied, realizing that, indeed, Rodney wasn’t being as dramatic as he had been earlier. Of course, shock was a definite possibility, and that kiss had been a shock. “Ok, so you’re going to Dagan...”

•••

“What?”

“Take it with you,” John repeated, holding out the personal shield device. “In case something goes wrong. You know how to use it.”

Rodney stared at the small device in John’s hand. It wasn’t a bad idea, really. In fact, it was a pretty good one and he was slightly miffed at himself for not thinking of it first. He took the thing from John’s hand, tucking it in his vest. “Although if I’m as good at this type of thing we both know I am...”

“You’ll need it,” John remarked dryly. Rodney was diplomatic as swine flu, and that was when he had both chocolate and coffee at his disposal. “You can pull this off, you know. Just...” He couldn’t lose Rodney, even if it had been his idea to send him out alone.

Rodney cut him off with a slashing hand gesture. “I’ve done the espionage thing before. Working with the US Government does that to you.”

“Right,” John said as they exited the lab. “So why don’t you ever display those useful talents when we need them?”

The snort he got in response was pure Rodney. “It never occurs to me. After all, I should be able to bludgeon anyone to death with my cerebellum so what’s the point in subterfuge?”

John rolled his eyes, not bothering to actually dredge up a response to Rodney’s form of logic. “Remember, no—

“I’ve got it, John,” Rodney said, not sounding nearly as nervous as he felt. In theory, this would work perfectly. He knew where the tiles went, what to press and how to charm Allina. Rodney would’ve felt a lot better about their plan if John was going too, though. After spending so many months as a team, Rodney was used to having John there. Of course, spending some time on Dagan would let Rodney think about what had happened earlier in the ‘gate room. It was, most assuredly, fear and adrenaline that drove John to kiss him. Yes, that was it. Nothing else to think about, except for how John had felt pressed up against the ‘gate, mouth warm and wet.

“It’s too bad we can’t ‘gate back to Earth,” John said to break the silence stretching between them. He wasn’t used to Atlantis being so silent, at least not the part they were in. Two pairs of footsteps echoed loudly in corridors that should’ve been filled with Marines and scientists and the humming buzz of electronics.

“Too risky,” Rodney said for the fourth or fifth time. They’d briefly argued about ‘gating home, but Rodney knew he was right. Going back could be disastrous; after all, they had no idea why they hadn’t made it here in this dimension. Obviously Elizabeth was here, although they hadn’t yet gone to check for sure. Thinking things like that made Rodney worry that this dimension wasn’t as similar to theirs as they were hoping.

“I know, I know—

John fell silent as ghostly versions of Zelenka and Dr. Weir appeared. They were walking down the hall towards John and Rodney, arguing and waving their hands. As they approached, John slid to the side and then fell in behind them. After a moment, Rodney followed.

“What are we doing? They’re talking about us,” Rodney said, edging closer. “I can just hear them.”

John hissed at Rodney to keep him from talking; otherwise he drowned out the sound of their not-really-there counterparts. A couple of Marines appeared ahead, patrolling, and John saw that they were even more grim-faced than usual.

“They’re trying to figure out what happened to us,” Rodney concluded as everyone but he and John faded into nothingness. “Of course, they’re on the wrong track.”

“They think we’re dead,” John said flatly. “I have ears, Rodney. Zelenka thinks we got spaced, or whatever you call it when people get ‘gated into nowhere.”

“Well, they’re wrong. They have to be; we’re still alive,” Rodney stated. “Unless this is hell. As I don’t believe in hell, being an atheist, the probability of this being hell is miniscule.”

“Dagan,” John said, pointedly not continuing any conversation that included them being dead but thinking they weren’t.

“Right, Dagan,” Rodney agreed. They reached the ‘gate room a minute later and Rodney suddenly looked as nervous as John thought he should’ve been.

“You’ll do fine,” John assured Rodney once again. “Just don’t...fuck up, ok?”

“You’re very good at inspiring self-confidence, Colonel,” Rodney snapped. “Don’t touch anything, don’t turn anything on and don’t go anywhere.”

“I heard you the first ten times,” John told Rodney as he dialed Dagan. “And you, don’t do anything stupid.”

Rodney stared at John for a few seconds before reaching forward. John let himself be dragged against Rodney’s chest, his mouth opening slightly as Rodney’s lips met his. “I never do anything stupid,” Rodney murmured before turning away and walking through the ‘gate.

As soon as Rodney was through, John disengaged the ‘gate, slumping against the controls. If Atlantis had been quiet before, it was even more so now. He didn’t like knowing he was the only living thing in the entire city and he really didn’t like the idea of Rodney being off-world alone even more.

If Rodney hadn’t been so insistent that someone stay in Atlantis, he’d have gone too. John forced himself to turn away from the ‘gate controls and thought about what to do while Rodney was gone. He couldn’t tell the city to do much of anything and he couldn’t stray too far from the ‘gate for too long in case Rodney needed something, but John had to do something.

Something turned out to be finding Elizabeth. John stared at the stasis chamber, wondering if she was disappointed when she woke up and no one was here. He fleetingly thought about leaving her a note, explaining why the city was out of the water and that they’d stolen the ZPM on Dagan.

He left without doing anything; even with the ZPM, provided Rodney could get it, they might be stuck here a very long time. Rodney still wasn’t entirely sure how to reverse whatever had gotten them where they were. John walked back toward the city center, ducking into what should’ve been Rodney’s lab to have a look around. He located a few Ancient items here and there, things they could run without depleting the city’s power and that were handy anyway. Rodney would like having some of his favorite toys to play with.

When he reached what had turned into their mess hall, John found it full of shadowy people, milling around and talking animatedly. He saw that Zelenka and Kavanagh were holding court with some of their ilk and even though the table with Teyla and Dex looked more appealing, John joined the scientists.

“I know it was this circuit,” Kavanagh insisted, pointing to a data pad he held. “Look, when we ran that last diagnostic, it was fine. But if you look after the ‘gate was initialized the parameters changed.”

“Could be an effect of explosion,” Zelenka argued. “Not the cause.”

“If it was caused by the explosion, then this circuit would’ve been fried,” Kavanagh replied, moving the data on the pad around. “Since with the new configuration, they were linked directly instead of through this set of capacitors.”

“But where did the power come from?” Zelenka inquired.

“I’m still working on that,” Kavanagh admitted.

The translucent people disappeared a few minutes later, so John filed away everything he heard and resumed his walking tour. Maybe Kavanagh was wrong, but John had no way of knowing. Rodney would know, though, so John thought it best to have the stuff Kavanagh said in his memory in case Rodney could make heads or tails of it.

After another half-hour of walking around, John stepped out onto a balcony. It was warm and sunny, with a hint of ocean breeze that licked moistly across his face. It felt so much like home John was tempted to go back inside, where it didn’t feel like home at all. Instead he stayed put, leaning out over the railing to peer at the water. Rodney hadn’t been gone an hour, but it was all John could do to keep from going right back to the controls and sending himself to Dagan.

John didn’t want to think about why it felt so wrong to see Rodney leave by himself. Yeah, a little of it was the team bit, but the rest felt different and John usually didn’t plumb the depths of his emotions unless he absolutely had to. Of course, Rodney was it; there wasn’t anyone else in the galaxy he could depend on.

They couldn’t go to Proculis; Chaya had nothing for them and John wasn’t putting either himself or Rodney through another go ‘round with her. Besides, she might not take too kindly to interdimensional travelers meeting another version of herself. Or would it be the same Chaya? With the dimensional part thrown in, John wasn’t sure. In all likelihood it was a new Chaya, but still...

He didn’t like her all that much anyway. She’d pissed off Rodney something fierce. He’d done the same, though. And Rodney had been right, but Rodney was always right—especially where John was concerned.

John left the balcony intent on finding something to do that didn’t involve thinking about Rodney. That way lay madness and John wasn’t doing well keeping a tight grip on his sanity. They’d kissed. Several times and John’s body told him it wouldn’t complain if they did a whole lot more than that. It was stress, though; under normal circumstances John had an iron grip on himself, so it had to be this utterly unholy situation that made him kiss Rodney. Well, that and the long-standing desire he had to kiss the man, but his self-control had prevented him from fulfilling that desire. Until today.

Back in the ‘gate room, John paced around, estimating distances using his stride. They were probably going to be here a few days and once Rodney returned, they needed to do a few things besides figure out how to get back. Before Rodney’s departure, they’d briefly discussed issues like food, but it had mostly been limited to noting that they should take short treks to planets they remembered had abundant and easily gathered foodstuffs. Now as as good a time as any for John to hash out those plans.

There was the place with all the berries, but John wasn’t sure what season it was there. He didn’t think they’d be able to go to an inhabited world, since they had nothing to trade for food. Avoiding the Genii was a given, as well as a few other unfriendly places. And the Wraith, but that wouldn’t be a problem. If they stuck to uninhabited places they’d been to before, ones that hadn’t been hostile, they should be ok.

Not that there were many of those places; if there had been, Atlantis would’ve had an Alpha site. The berry planet had nasty cold nights, he remembered that, and a really evil species of bee. John knew he’d be making that trip; they only had two epi-pens and couldn’t risk Rodney’s health.

God, what if Rodney got sick? John stopped walking and leaned against a wall, forcing himself to take deep breaths. They had no medical equipment and all of two epi-pens. He was good at field medicine, but that wouldn’t help Rodney with anaphylactic shock. He had a brief mental image of Rodney, gasping uselessly for breath. It took a couple of minutes before John could shake the cold dread that crept up on him.

They needed quarters to stay in, so John used that excuse to leave the ‘gate room and his nerve-wracking thoughts behind. He considered their old quarters, not sure if Rodney would want familiarity or spaciousness. There were better rooms available in the city. With that in mind, John headed for them, ones he knew that no one was using due to their location.

The Wraith had damaged that part of their Atlantis, but this city was still whole. Getting into the rooms wasn’t difficult, although John was very careful not to activate any of the amenities available. It took considerable effort to confiscate extra mattresses from other rooms, but after a couple of hours John had a pair of adjacent apartments set up rather nicely. Well, nicely for rooms that didn’t have any of their personal belongings in them. But they were dusted, aired out and had the largest beds he could make without simply carpeting the rooms in mattresses.

Maybe when they got back to Atlantis he could do the same in his old room. John didn’t think it went against military philosophy to be able to stretch out on occasion and if he was going to make Atlantis home for the foreseeable future, he was definitely doing it with a bigger bed.

Not that he needed a bigger bed; one body only took up so much room. John was hopeful, though, and he didn’t think that sleeping in a bigger bed would make him feel any lonelier. He ignored the little voice that told him that if he asked nicely, Rodney might make the need for two big beds unnecessary.

John wished he could talk to the ghost-people and tell them to go track down that nude alien, Hermiod. As smart as the Asgard were, surely he could figure this whole thing out. He wasn’t as smart as Rodney, but he had the bug-eyed alien thing going for him. And, he cursed in alien languages—while standing around naked.

After taking another look around the rooms, John returned to the ‘gate room. He knew Rodney would be a long time coming back, simply for the travel time involved. Charming Allina would take a little while, and this time he didn’t have any backup to help out. John did not think about what Rodney might do this time to win Allina over.

All the trinkets he’d picked up along the way were still piled next to the controls, so John collected them and walked back to Rodney’s lab. It was barren without all the computers and food wrappers, but John did the best he could to make the place look like home. Additional trips to the infirmary and other labs produced more Ancient technology that John used to restock Rodney’s supply of toys. John refused to think about what he was doing, just like he didn’t think about Rodney being out there on his own.

Christ, he was an idiot for sending Rodney by himself.

Rodney had only been gone five hours, but John was a hairsbreadth from ‘gating to Dagan and dragging his scientist back to Atlantis. John was far too alone in Atlantis by himself and his skin crawled with the utter solitude of it.

Instead, John located some bins and sat down in the ‘gate room to make a list of food-likely planets. He could shoot some of those deer-like animals they found on one world; with the ZPM they could store the meat in an Ancient freezer and eat well for months. Then there were those peppers and onions Teyla knew about on the world with lots of earthquakes.

Unfortunately the world with the really good potato-things was inhabited by some very curious humans who hadn’t been overly fond of him—or Rodney—the last time they’d stopped by.

The list only took forty-five minutes and that was after John forced himself to recount every single mission they’d been on. He had a list of likely planets, and another one of sparsely populated ones he might be able to sneak onto.

John wanted Rodney back, even if Rodney never kissed him again.

The sun was starting to set, so John went back out on a balcony to watch it sink into the ocean. Once it was dark, only moonlight illuminated the city. He’d have gone for a run on one of the city’s piers, but they were too far away. The ‘gate room wasn’t exactly an ideal place for it, but John stripped down to his boxers, leaving on his socks and replacing his boots, and started to run. After an hour of that, he did some sit-ups, push-ups and pull-ups using a section of railing.

Then he started practicing stickfighting, before wiping down with a handkerchief and getting dressed again. Rodney was taking forever. They’d agreed that if he wasn’t back by midnight, John was supposed to go get him. That left two more hours.

John found a somewhat-brightly lit spot on the floor and field-stripped his P90, and then his sidearm. He found a bit of gummy residue on one shoe and used his knife to clean it off. After that he walked over to a support column and used the tip of his knife to carve into it. He thought about leaving his and Rodney’s names and his serial number, but thought better of it. If this dimension’s versions of themselves showed up here, they’d get all freaked out.

Oddly enough, that made John want to do it even more. He could almost see Rodney’s mouth, gaping silently, when someone discovered the carvings. With a heart around their names, no less. Instead of doing that, John carved a simple tick mark into the metal. Day one of the weirdest stretch of time in his life, and wasn’t that saying something? Almost blowing himself up with a nuclear weapon might’ve been the grimmest, and fighting the Genii during the storm was the tensest, but this definitely was the weirdest. By far. Hands down.

Where the fuck was Rodney?

John had already geared up and was at the ‘gate controls and fuck midnight he was going to get his physicist, when the control panel blinked. He deactivated the shield immediately. Before he could reach the ‘gate itself, Rodney walked through.

“You’re back,” John said, not caring about how dumb he sounded. Rodney was back and John’s brain did a very dorky happy dance that John’s body was not going to interpret for his audience of one.

“Well, yes,” Rodney said lightly, “I wasn’t planning on staying, even though Allina is quite beautiful.”

“Did you get it?” John asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. Rodney looked a little sun burnt and a bit tired, but otherwise just fine.

“You mean this?” Rodney replied, withdrawing the ZPM from a bag slung over his shoulder. “I think I did, yes. Yes, I definitely got it. And food. They fed me. A lot.”

“Rodney,” John warned, “The ZPM.”

Rodney held his smirk for another moment before breaking into a huge grin. “Indeed, the ZedPM,” He echoed, taking the two steps needed to reach John. To John’s surprise, he held it out. John took it, marveling at how such a small thing could be so powerful. With Rodney so close, he could practically smell the perfume of fields and the mustiness of caverns sticking to his skin.

“Air conditioning, water, lights and a trip home, yet still smaller than a breadbox,” John murmured. “Install it and I’ll show you what I did while you were gone.”

“Besides sweat a lot?” Rodney asked, leading the way to the ZPM interface. “What did you do, run laps around the ‘gate room?”

John didn’t say a word, but his expression was proof enough. “You did not run laps around the ‘gate room!” Rodney exclaimed. “I was gone for how long, and that’s all you found to do?”

“Keep it up and I won’t show you your spacious new quarters with their nice, big bed,” John muttered. “And I definitely won’t go on any food runs for stuff you like.”

“What’s wrong with our old quarters?” Rodney asked, ignoring the food jibe. “All my stuff’s...

“These are ones the Wraith damaged in our city,” John said, not commenting on Rodney’s realization that their stuff wasn’t in their rooms here. “Big, with great balconies, and still pretty close to your lab.”

“My lab?” Rodney repeated.

“I figured you could work ok in the same space, but...”

“Yeah,” Rodney agreed quietly. They reached the interface and Rodney immediately slid the ZPM into place.

“Nothing happened,” John said nervously.

“Because we haven’t done anything yet,” Rodney retorted. He began tapping on a nearby display and a moment later, light flooded the darkened room. “You can turn your flashlight off now, John.”

John looked around the brightly lit area. “What about the environmental controls?”

“I’d rather do it from the ‘gate room,” Rodney said, checking the ZPM one last time. Then he turned away and began walking back to the central controls. “You know,” He continued as John joined him, “I almost feel bad taking their ZedPM.”

“Almost?” John murmured.

Rodney shrugged. “Well, if our selves in this dimension ever come over here, they’re not going to be able to take it, because it’s already taken.”

“I thought we discussed this,” John groaned. “Yeah, we’re not going to Earth so we don’t get arrested or something, but this isn’t the past, it’s the present.”

“Still, what if they needed that ZedPM? Then again, my self in this dimension would’ve screwed up and Allina wouldn’t have let me have it, so it’s all pointless. Maybe we can take it back with us,” Rodney rambled as they reached the ‘gate room.

“What about the city?” John asked while Rodney initialized the city’s systems. John realized that he could do most of what Rodney was doing, so he mentally jumped in and let his interface with the city do most of the work.

“You’re doing that, right? Because if you aren’t, there’s someone else around here turning things on,” Rodney muttered. “And what about the city?”

“When we go back...we can’t just leave it up here. The Wraith are gonna wake up eventually, and they’ll be able to find it,” John said, trying hard not to say something about people turning things on. Rodney hadn’t done anything since getting back, hadn’t said a word.

Rodney looked over at him. “So? Unless ‘we’ reach Atlantis, they won’t know about Earth.”

“Rodney,” John warned, “There happen to be a lot of humans in this galaxy too.”

Rodney sighed deeply. “I’ll think of something, but we’re taking the ZedPM with us. It’s fully charged, John; we can’t pass up that resource. I’ll find a way to sink the city again without destroying it, ok? Just... enjoy our newfound hot water and air conditioning for one night before going all knight-in-shining-armor on me.”

John pulled a powerbar out of his vest and realized he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink all day. “Tomorrow is for food,” He stated around a bite of protein bar. “You might’ve gotten food today, but all we’ve got for tomorrow is a few powerbars and all the water we can drink.”

“I’ve got some ideas about food,” Rodney said as he stepped back from the controls, yawning widely.

“I’ve made lists,” John countered. “You stay here and figure out how to get us home; I’ll go play the mighty hunter.”

“You mentioned quarters,” Rodney murmured. “With a big bed.”

John grinned and wondered what Rodney looked like sprawled out in bed. “Come on.”

All the effort he put into the beds was worth the look on Rodney’s face when he saw his room. “We are such idiots,” Rodney muttered as he kicked his shoes off. “We’ve been there how long and we’re all still sleeping on those miniscule little things?”

John’s hands twitched with the desire to help Rodney, who was stripping off his vest and shirt. “Subconscious influence of the commander,” He suggested. “I don’t think she wanted to think about the implications of all of us having comfortable beds.”

“Yeah, like all of us getting restful sleep,” Rodney muttered. He was down to his boxers before he realized John was still standing there. Rodney might’ve been exhausted, but even he could see the somewhat strange expression on John’s face. It was the same one he’d had right after they’d kissed in the ‘gate room—both times.

Rodney had done a lot of thinking on Dagan, which hadn’t hurt his ability to get the ZedPM because he already knew how to do that. What he didn’t know how to do was handle John. Rodney was well-used to being attracted to people but not doing anything about it; most of them were just pretty faces but weren’t worth the effort. It was always Colonels that did it for him. The first one he’d met sent him to Siberia for his efforts.

This one kissed him within an inch of his life.

“So,” Rodney said when John kept standing there and not doing what most people would’ve done—say, leaving when it became obvious Rodney was about to go to bed. “Tomorrow’s for food and figuring out how to get home.”

“Right,” John replied, jerking himself back into the present. Rodney’s skin was pale, but not unnaturally so, his forearms and face were darker from the recent sun exposure. “Don’t sleep in; I plan on leaving early.”

Rodney watched John leave, suspicious that he’d missed something. With a shrug, he flopped down on his bed, figuring that if what he’d missed had to do with John, kissing and the like, he had plenty of time to get it parsed out. They weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Rodney was a genius, not a god.

•••

John was already in the ‘gate room when Rodney walked in the next morning.

“Showers aren’t nearly as refreshing without soap,” Rodney commented. John looked over at him, noting absently that Rodney had a fair amount of beard stubble. Razors weren’t exactly typical mission gear when they weren’t planning on being gone for more than a day. John didn’t like growing a beard; they itched too much. Then again, he had his knife, and it was currently razor-sharp.

“Yeah, I know,” John murmured, wondering if Rodney had issues with beard-burn. Shoving aside that question, he returned to matters at hand. “I’m going here first,” He said, pointing to the first item on the list he’d made. “If that works out, I’ll find one of those deer-things on this planet,” He continued, moving to the next row of symbols.

Rodney nodded approvingly. “Get the purple ones if they’re ripe.”

“The blueberry-raspberry ones? Oh yeah,” John agreed happily. “Don’t blow the place up, ok?”

Rodney rolled his eyes with a familiar, welcome look of contempt. “I’m not the one with the tendency to destroy things, you know.”

“Except for that time—

Rodney shut John up with his mouth, shoving his tongue along John’s until both of them were leaning against each other and groping blindly. “Food,” Rodney panted as he drew away. “Go get food. I’m hungry and I’ve only got three power bars left.”

“Right, food,” John mumbled, running the fingers of one hand across his now-swollen lips. “Um...about this...thing...” He stuttered, looking everywhere but at Rodney’s face.

“What thing?” Rodney asked. “Oh...can we not talk about it?” He said a little desperately. “You know, like never?”

“Food,” John repeated, entering his ‘jumper. Rodney dialed up the berry planet and forced himself not to look away from the ‘gate until John was gone.

•••

It was cold and dark when John arrived, making him wish he had better gear as he cursed planets with below-freezing nighttime temperatures even in the midst of summer. The only good side of the weather, he thought, was that the planet’s extremely healthy insect population was dormant at night.

Shrugging off the chill, John went directly to the nearest thicket of fruit-bearing shrubs. From the looks of things he’d gotten there just in time; it was the last fruit of the season. Though dark, the moon was nearly full so John quickly began harvesting, already considering how to best hunt down food on his next stop.

With any luck, it wouldn’t be winter there. If they had any of their Atlantis’s records, he’d know for sure.

By the time dawn broke, John had filled all of the bins he’d brought and his hands were numb. He lined the bins up in the ‘jumper and dialed in. As soon as his ID registered, he guided the ‘jumper back through the ‘gate.

“Excellent,” Rodney stated as he hauled one of the bins out of the ‘jumper. “This should last us for weeks!”

“If we don’t get sick of berries,” John grumbled. “And since you asked, it was dark and cold and I can’t feel my fingers.”

Rodney, however, was already heading towards Atlantis’s equivalent of a deep-freezer. “Take a hot shower,” He suggested as he disappeared down the hallway. John followed behind, wondering if Rodney ever showed proper gratitude for anyone’s sacrifices other than his own.

“Seriously, we can’t live on raspberries,” John said as he and Rodney stashed the last of the berries. “I’m no nutritionist and I know that much.”

“Yes, yes,” Rodney mumbled around a mouthful of the admittedly delectable fruits. “But they’re better than starvation.”

John smirked. “You’re a long way from starving, Rodney.”

“Shut up,” Rodney hissed. “Weren’t you going to go play the mighty hunter?”

“Frozen hands,” John replied, holding up his obviously chapped fingers. “Hunting takes more concentration and effort than harvesting, Rodney. I can’t just go out there right now; I won’t bring anything back.”

Rodney sighed, but it wasn’t the sigh that said ‘you’re an idiot.’ Rather, this sigh said Rodney understood and was frustrated at their situation. “Why don’t you take that shower, grab a nap or something? I’m still working on some calculations.”

John opened his mouth to reply, but Rodney was already gone, walking quickly back to his makeshift lab. Shrugging to himself, John ambled toward his new quarters, wishing he had a bar of soap.

Halfway back, a pair of scientists appeared in the hallway—Dr. Beckett and one of his associates. John followed them back to the infirmary, listening in as they discussed some new interstellar virus and what they were going to do without John and Rodney to keep the city functional.

“You could figure out we’re not dead,” John said, even though they couldn’t hear him. “We’re not, you know. Dead. We’re here and maybe if you could get Zelenka to work on the situation, he’d realize that and get us back!”

“The worst part is that Earth doesn’t want to send replacements,” The female doctor griped. “Landry said Zelenka and Caldwell could take over.”

“If all they’re interested in is holding their own,” John commented. “Caldwell’s fine, but he can’t work Atlantis like I can.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with either man,” Beckett replied. “It just won’t be the same without Rodney and John.”

“Quieter, maybe,” She muttered. “I know, I know, Rodney’s the smartest slimeball in two galaxies...”

John would’ve defended Rodney, or at least buffered the insult with a reminder of how many times Rodney had saved their collective asses, but the two doctors faded away, leaving John standing dumbly in front of a place that was most certainly not Beckett’s infirmary.

“I thought you were going to take a shower.”

John nearly jumped out of his skin. “I thought you were going back to your lab,” He said, spinning around.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “I wanted to run a scan of the city, now that there are two of us here. And there are just two of us, by the way. And yes, Atlantis still likes you more. Why are you here?”

“Beckett showed up,” John explained. “They still think we’re dead.”

“I’m not shocked,” Rodney said dryly. “Anything else?”

John briefly weighed telling Rodney the rest. “Earth isn’t going to replace us; Zelenka and Caldwell are taking our places.”

Much to John’s surprise, Rodney’s reaction wasn’t particularly colorful. “It makes sense; Zelenka’s the next best choice. Caldwell isn’t so bad; Hermiod seems to like him.”

“Right,” John murmured. “I’m going to take that shower now.” He turned to leave, but Rodney stopped him.

“We are going to get back,” Rodney said firmly. “I’m not going to stay stuck here forever.”

“That’ll probably sound more reassuring when I’m not frostbitten and exhausted,” John said tiredly. He just wanted his hot shower and a few hours of rest, a little time where he didn’t have to think about what it meant that he was stuck in an alien Atlantis with only Rodney as company.

Not that Rodney was bad company.

“Come on,” Rodney ordered, wrapping one hand around John’s forearm and steering him away from the infirmary. John went along silently, letting himself like the warmth of Rodney’s hand as it seeped through his clothing. The pressure of blunt fingers was reassuring and grounding, so John allowed himself to wonder why Rodney was such a good anchor.

He shouldn’t have been good at things like that; Rodney was hyper and unrestrained so by all rights Rodney should be driving John insane. Most of the time, he did make John a little crazy. But right before John reached the breaking point, he’d get pulled into the eye of the storm and everything would calm down. Just him and Rodney, watching the universe flail madly around them.

Right now, John was calm. Rodney was in charge, which was good. Last night’s rest had recharged John’s body, but his mind was still edgy, remembering how long Rodney had been gone, alone on Dagan.

“We’re here,” Rodney announced as the door to John’s quarters slid open. “Take that shower, Colonel. You look like hell.”

Rodney’s hand disappeared and John hated the way warmth fled with it. He was going to get some sleep and Rodney was going to go save their asses again. “Okay,” John said, the door shutting between them.

•••

When John woke, it was to find Rodney standing over him. “What?” He asked groggily. “Something blow up?”

“You’ve been asleep for ten hours,” Rodney said by way of a reply. “We need more food.”

“Do you ever think about anything else?” John asked as he rolled out of bed.

While John stretched, Rodney tossed clothes at him—most of which missed and landed on the bed. “While you’ve been happily slumbering away, I’ve been trying to get us home,” He snipped at John. “Not that I’ve gotten anywhere.”

John didn’t say anything, so Rodney stomped out of John’s quarters. A few minutes later, John found him in his lab, bent over his data pad. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” John murmured softly. He knew Rodney was doing the best he could, given the circumstances. Actually, he was still impressed by Rodney’s poise—he’d fully expected Rodney to have gone off the deep end several times more than he had since their accident.

Rodney’s head snapped up. “Be careful; that place doesn’t have killer bees, but I seem to recall—

“I will,” John interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m not planning on getting shot, Rodney.”

Rodney fidgeted with his stylus. “You rarely plan on getting shot, John, but it seems to happen fairly regularly.”

John sighed briefly and closed his eyes, only to open them when Rodney took the step necessary to close the space between them. The kiss was brief and close-mouthed, but still managed to convey what John knew Rodney had been saying. John was not to die and leave Rodney alone in a city that wasn’t theirs.

“I still think we should talk about this,” John said when Rodney stepped back.

“And I think we should avoid talking about crisis-induced behavior that falls far outside our normal personal parameters,” Rodney retorted. “I’m busy; go kill something.”

•••

After the fourth hour sitting in a tree sparsely populated with small black flies, John knew for sure why he would never enjoy hunting. Nature was pretty and he liked spending time outside. Animals tasted good and hamburgers were a thing of beauty. Sitting far too still in a tree waiting for lunch to walk by was dead boring.

John wished Rodney was here. The man’s voice would most assuredly alert any possible prey to their location, but from what John had seen, there wasn’t much to be found anyway. They could have the conversation John wanted them to have and he could, for a few minutes, be distracted from the damned flies circling his head. Rodney had a nice mouth, John thought, mobile and slick but in no way feminine. He liked that and he liked even more the rough skin that scraped along his when Rodney kissed him.

He rarely got the chance to indulge in that side of his sexuality...or in any side of it, for that matter. Most missions didn’t last as long as this one, not without some form of vacation and despite Rodney’s muttered accusations, John was not getting ‘entertained’ by half the galaxy. The closest he’d come lately was a Wraith that had gotten up close and personal with his P90 and John steadfastly refused to consider killing something that was trying to suck his life away any form of sexual interaction.

What Rodney had said before John left, though, bothered him a little. What if Rodney was simply reacting to stress and isolation? It wouldn’t be the first time John was Mr. Right Now, but all the other times his partners, male and female, weren’t people he had to live and work with. To John’s way of thinking, attachment-free sex was best done in anonymity. If Rodney was only responding to him out of desperation, John didn’t think they’d be able to live with each other if—when—they got home.

If that was the case, John would rather stop touching Rodney altogether. He’d managed quite nicely up to this point; Rodney had been just someone he wouldn’t mind bedding. If it never happened, he’d be okay with that, just like he’d been okay with thinking his freshman roommate was hot but never getting within spitting distance of his very shapely ass. Eric was terminally straight and cluelessly so, to the point it made John laugh.

Rodney, not so much. John knew he liked women, even if he had abominable style and no hope of convincing most of the ones they’d met to do more than grimace at him. Maybe that was it; Rodney was straight and wasn’t comfortable with guys. No one on the mission was homophobic; he’d read about the personality profiling that went into being recruited by the SGC. With all the human and alien civilizations they encountered, Stargate personnel had to be pretty open-minded.

Really open-minded, if some of the reports he’d been allowed to read were accurate. At least once ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ had been set aside for some rather exotic scenarios, ones John sort of wished they had video records of. General O’Neill must not have been in charge of putting together the information John had received; there was no way O’Neill would’ve approved of John reading about the time he’d been unexpectedly married to four male priests on some backwater planet. That mission lasted three weeks, but the marriage ceremony had been the first day. Three weeks was a long time to hold off four husbands, even with Dr. Jackson there to defend O’Neill’s honor. Then again, O’Neill seemed like a pretty easygoing guy, and the mission in question resulted in a decent amount of usable information about the Go’auld. If he’d pissed off the locals by insulting his husbands, that kind of information wouldn’t have been shared.

Thinking about whether or not General O’Neill put out for his temporary spouses wasn’t getting anything shot for dinner, so John climbed down out of his tree and moved farther into the forest. He wasn’t used to tracking animals, but the basics were the same as for humans. It did occur to John that since he had no idea what the life cycle of this planet’s fauna was, he might be on a wild goose chase. If the deer had migrated, he wasn’t going to find anything other than a few songbirds and some rat-like things scurrying here and there. John doubted Rodney would be impressed by them; he could almost imagine the look of utter disdain on Rodney’s face at the sight of roasted rat.

Of course, anything they ate now was going to be pretty plain; all they had was berries and powerbars, neither of which was going to flavor venison particularly well. Maybe a raspberry compote...

John stopped that thought dead. He was not going to think about making complicated sauces for alien venison just so Rodney wouldn’t bitch about the taste of his dinner. It was about time Rodney got grateful for having anything to eat. If John didn’t find something soon, he was going to have to make do with what they had, even if it gave him a massive sugar rush.

A noise to John’s left caught his attention and he paused, turning slowly to face the sound. It was a deer, or at least the ghost of one, just like the half-images of people on Atlantis. He watched, fascinated, as a trio of does walked past him as though he wasn’t even there. A few yards ahead, they faded away but by that point, John wasn’t watching.

Instead, John was slowly creeping back the way they came, a harebrained idea leaping around in his brain. On Atlantis, people appeared and then disappeared into nowhere, but nothing remained because in this dimension they were somewhere else completely—on Earth, he hoped. But on this planet, maybe—just maybe—things were lined up a little more closely with his own dimension. Even if he didn’t find the same deer, he might possibly locate a salt lick or a pond, or some other gathering place.

The path he was on became clearer the longer he walked it, making John surer of his suspicions. Clearly the deer had been using it for some time. Indeed, about half an hour after he’d seen the ghost-deer, John came upon a small pond, fed by the tiniest of springs. There weren’t any animals around, so John found a sturdy-looking tree and climbed up a few branches to wait. Good water sources were usually where animals gathered.

Including, as it turned out, tree rats. A couple of minutes after settling in, John watched as one clambered up his branch and perched on his boots, sniffing curiously at their soles. He debated kicking it off when the thing tried gnawing on the boot leather, but before he’d made up his mind, the animal went back the way he came. Smart move, Mickey.

It took another solid hour of waiting but just as John was about to nod off, four deer exited the thick underbrush and began to drink. He sighted them with his P90, weighing whether to take a sure shot at one or attempt to take out two or more.

Something startled the animals, making John’s decision for him. He fired on the group and three of the animals stumbled as they were hit. None of them fell completely down, however, and John cursed as he climbed down out of the tree. One must’ve been a good hit, because he located it just a few feet away, clawing its way into the brush. He put it out of its misery before trying to spot the others.

In the end he had two deer, both healthy-looking and extremely heavy. Success brought around the other thing he hated about hunting: field dressing game.

•••

Rodney was waiting for him when John returned. “I told you not to get shot!” Rodney yelped when he caught sight of a bloodied John dragging two deer carcasses out of the ‘jumper. “Where? How bad?”

John dropped the carcasses and flopped down next to the ‘jumper. “It’s not mine, Rodney,” He said tiredly. “Hunting is nasty work.”

“I’ll say,” Rodney agreed as he came up to the deer. “You left their heads on.”

“I removed their musk glands,” John retorted. “Which means that when you get over seeing your dinner’s cute little deer-eyes, the meat won’t taste like shit.”

“For which I am quite grateful,” Rodney admitted. “Well?”

John opened one very tired eye. “Well what?”

“You can’t just leave them here! They’ll spoil!”

John glared at Rodney, who looked just a little too petulant. “They’re heavy and I had to carry them both—at the same time—over a mile to the ‘jumper. The forest was too dense to fly in.”

Rodney looked down at the carcasses, noting the ropes binding their hind legs together. “Can you truss up their forelegs?”

John bit back a groan as he heaved himself upright and reached for the webbing strap of his P90. Rodney actually grabbed the other binding rope and helped haul the deer out of the ‘gate room, taking most of the weight as they moved slowly to the freezers. “Hold up a sec,” Rodney said as they turned a corner, so John dropped his end and leaned against the wall. After a minute, Rodney resumed walking, dragging the deer behind him.

“Rodney,” John began as the man slowly inched away from him. “Wait up.”

“I can get them the rest of the way, but you are doing the butchering,” Rodney shot back. “Go take another shower; you’re entirely too bloody for my peace of mind.”

John looked down at his fatigues. Yeah, he was pretty gross.

After his shower, John was still pretty gross. They were going to have to fly to the mainland and get some sand, or go somewhere and trade for soap, or something because the smell was not coming out of his skin. The Ancient tech did a better job on his clothes, though, which was a minor victory.

“You still reek,” Rodney said when John found him in his lab. “But not as bad.”

“Soap,” John grunted. “Isn’t there any soap in this city?”

Rodney’s mouth twisted to one side. “Not really. When we got to our Atlantis we found a few bars of something resembling soap, but it hadn’t been in stasis. Ten thousand year old soap more closely resembles granite than cleansing product.”

“Then I’m going to reek for the foreseeable future,” John replied.

“We could render deer fat and mix it with lye,” Rodney offered.

“You know how to make soap?” John asked, surprised. He shouldn’t have been; Rodney seemed to know the oddest things.

“In theory, yes. You use ashes and water to get lye, and then mix it with rendered fat. The end result is lye soap.”

“And you’ve done this before?” John pressed. “Or should we bite the bullet and go trading?”

Rodney’s smirk softened into a slightly guilty grin. “Once, but the soap was a bit strong.”

“I like having skin.”

“So do I,” Rodney agreed. “There was that one settlement—with the funky triangular houses, I think, that had an inordinate fondness for bitter herbs. We traded them some stuff from the Atlantean mainland.”

“They had soap?” John mused. “I thought they had cloth and grain.”

“Which we have an abundance of,” Rodney remarked. “But yes, they had soap. At least, they had decent hygiene, so I assume that means they had some kind of soap.”

“Why do I get the impression I’m going to be the one to gather the herbs and go trading?” John asked with only the tiniest bit of a whine in his voice.

Rodney’s smirk returned. “Because you know which plants are the herbs and if I go trading...”

“Don’t even try,” John warned. “You did fine on Dagan.”

“I knew what I was doing on Dagan,” Rodney countered. “If you get the herbs, I’ll do the trading.”

John nodded in agreement, pushing away from the bench he’d been using as support. What he really wanted right now was another nap, or maybe even a full night’s sleep. He had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t be able to sleep with himself, though, not with the way he smelled. “Alright,” He mumbled, not bothering to hide how little he wanted to do this.

Rodney wasn’t oblivious, though. He stepped out from behind the bench, between John and the door. “You don’t have to go today,” He said softly, eyeing John’s tired expression. “You’ve been doing most of the work for the last two days.”

“I thought you were trying to get us home,” John replied, glancing around the lab. “Or have you just been playing around?”

Rodney snorted sarcastically. “Yes, John, I’ve been piddling aimlessly for two days. I was trying to be considerate. Yes, you smell, and yes we need soap. You don’t smell that bad, however, and if you go in the morning I should have time to trade in the evening. As I recall, the settlement is dark when we’re light.”

“I thought I reeked,” John said lightly. “But not so bad, apparently.” He sniffed his hand and grimaced. “You were right the first time, see?” Rodney didn’t have time to move away before John had his hand right up in his face.

John could feel Rodney’s mouth moving against his palm, lips tickling silkily. Whatever Rodney was trying to say was lost, muffled down into mere vibrations that ran up John’s arm. After a few seconds Rodney took hold of John’s wrist and pushed his hand away, stepping closer as he shoved John’s arm to the side. “That wasn’t very nice,” Rodney warned, close enough that his berry-scented breath brushed John’s cheek.

“Neither are—

John didn’t get to finish telling Rodney that he wasn’t nice either because Rodney was kissing him. It wasn’t as soft as the last time, nor as forceful as that first kiss in the ‘gate room. This one was in-between; Rodney nipped at his lips until John let him in and then proceeded to get very familiar with John’s tongue. By the time Rodney pulled away, John was panting and hard, swaying on rubbery legs and worried his eyes were going to cross.

Rodney looked a little bit smug.

John searched for something to say, something that might get Rodney to do that again. “Prison sex.”

•••

“Excuse me?”

There were voices inside John’s head, all of them yelling very unflattering things about timing and smooth moves. “Um...”

Rodney’s expression was a mixture of ire and curiosity. “Did you just say, ‘prison sex?’”

“That’s not what I meant,” John managed to say. “Er, or how I meant it. Maybe.”

“So I shouldn’t be worried that you’re spontaneously sharing kinks?” Rodney was a little amused, which both irritated and relieved John.

“More like, are you coming onto me because I’m the only person here so you don’t have a lot of options other than your right hand,” John grated out, eyes narrowing. “I.e. prison sex.”

Rodney’s mouth pursed and his stance stiffened. “Left hand, and as I recall, you’re the one who started the kissing thing. Was it this ‘prison sex’ for you? That was what, ten minutes after we got here. You got so desperate to get laid that you decided to make do with me ten minutes after finding yourself stranded in another dimension?”

Oh, this was going very bad places. “No,” John said slowly, flipping through all the things he could say to possibly keep Rodney from ripping him a new asshole.

“No,” Rodney echoed, by now well into angry and as far from amused and aroused as he could possibly get.

John sighed. “No, I didn’t kiss you because you were the only person available. You’ve never shown an interest in me, or in men, before now.”

One eyebrow arched. Rodney was obviously unimpressed. “Nor have you,” He pointed out. “Unless you’re far more discreet than anyone gives you credit for.”

“Military,” John said defensively. “Atlantis is a closed society.”

“So I am the only available—man, that is,” Rodney surmised. “Since you didn’t show any interest in me prior to us arriving here.”

John wondered if anyone in this dimension would care if he just killed himself now and got it over with. “Because it didn’t seem like a good idea!”

“What didn’t seem like a good idea?” Rodney asked sharply.

Rodney wasn’t that stupid. “Don’t even try,” John warned. “You know what I’m talking about. I never saw you trying anything with me.”

“I don’t try anything with almost anyone,” Rodney retorted. “Most people aren’t worth the effort.”

“Including me?” John sniped. “You never did answer my question.”

“What, I’m supposed to pour my pitiful little heart out because you’re afraid I’m just going with the situation?” Rodney asked him, hands on his hips. “I told you I didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever.”

“Well, we’re having it,” John growled.

“Because this is such a good time to argue about sex!” Rodney yelled. “We’re stuck in a dimension piggybacking our own and you want to chit-chat about sex?”

“Yes!” John shouted. “We’re stuck here with each other and I can’t get home without you, so I can’t kill you!”

“And the only alternative is to have sex with me?” Rodney snarked. “What kind of television do you watch in your spare time, Colonel?”

“Right now I’m wondering why I ever wanted to have sex with you in the first place,” John replied harshly. “If anyone can make attraction seem like a really bad idea, it’s you.”

“You’re the one who brought up prison sex,” Rodney reminded him. “And as fascinating as an academic discussion of transient bisexuality would be, this really isn’t the venue for it.”

“I brought it up because I’m not interested in it,” John explained.

“Well, yes, we’ve established—I think—that you don’t have a prison sex kink,” Rodney said dryly, “And yes, I’ve gathered that you were making a truly disastrous attempt to discern whether my apparent bisexuality is transient or not.”

“Is it?” John spat.

“Is yours?” Rodney returned.

John sighed again. “No.”

“Neither is mine,” Rodney admitted. “I rarely express it. Not worth the possible humiliation most days.”

“Military,” John muttered. “Not worth the dishonorable discharge.”

“Not even when it’s really good?” Rodney had to ask.

John rolled his eyes. “You would have an outsized ego in bed, wouldn’t you?”

That comment earned him another sharp glare. “It was a global question, you jackass, not to mention a rhetorical one.”

“Right,” John sighed. “It’s just...look, we’re stuck here for who knows how long. The two of us. We’re going to get back eventually because you’re too fucking smart to leave us stranded forever. Still, it could be a while and I’d rather us not get into something that’s going to leave us at each other’s throats—or leave us needing therapy when we get back.”

Rodney thought about that for a minute. “You don’t want to get back home and find out I was using you for comfort,” He translated. “You thought I’d do that?”

John didn’t say anything. Rodney continued to study him, though. “Maybe I thought the same thing,” He murmured, much to John’s surprise.

“You did?” John asked shakily.

Rodney shrugged. “Why not? I even less information than you did, John. I didn’t even know why you kissed me in the ‘gate room.”

“Ah.”

“Speaking of which...why did you kiss me?” Rodney inquired.

This wasn’t going to go over well. “The truth?” Rodney nodded. “I was freaking out and you wouldn’t shut up.”

Indeed, Rodney looked pissed—again. “You kissed me to shut me up?”

John nodded guiltily. “Yeah, but then you kissed me back.”

“And that made it alright to keep kissing me?” Rodney’s voice was dangerously close to screeching.

“I wanted to anyway,” John admitted. “And at the time, I thought it was better than slugging you.”

“You were going to hit me?” Now Rodney really was shouting, which made John wince in pain.

“I was, as I said, freaking out!”

“Do you frequently debate between hitting someone and kissing them when you’re nervous?” Rodney said, lashing out viciously. “Kiss or kill? Do they teach you that in basic training?”

John had had enough. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere good; every time he thought they’d yanked it out of the fire it dove right back in. He lunged at Rodney, pinning him to the workbench. “What part of ‘I wanted to anyway’ did you not understand?” He hissed, getting right up in Rodney’s face.

“Er...” Rodney grunted, pushing back against John’s hands. “This really is uncalled-for.”

“Well?” John asked harshly. “I’ve wanted you for months, McKay.”

“Oh.” Rodney’s voice was very small.

John’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Oh?”

Rodney swallowed. “Ah...”

Huh. So there was another way to shut Rodney McKay up. Interesting, but not as much fun as kissing. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Actually, I’m somewhat disappointed you didn’t say something earlier,” Rodney admitted. “And I’d very much appreciate it if you’d let me go.”

“Are you going to keep arguing with me?” John asked him. “Because if you are, I’m definitely not letting you budge, not even an inch.”

“I didn’t think you swung that way,” Rodney said suddenly, “And even if you did, I couldn’t imagine you’d give me a second glance, genius aside.”

“Why not?” John inquired, fascinated by the way Rodney’s eyes were focusing on anything but him.

“I’m not your type?” Rodney offered questioningly. “I’ve seen the women you chase.”

“But not the men,” John pointed out. “And I’ve seen Colonel Carter; I’m no blue-eyed blonde.”

“That look only works for women,” Rodney commented. “On men it makes them look like dimwitted beach bums.”

John couldn’t argue with that fact. “So...”

“So...” Rodney mimicked. “So what is your type?”

John leaned in until his mouth brushed Rodney’s ear. “Guess,” He whispered, tracing the sensitive shell as he spoke.

“Prison sex!” Rodney yelped, making John jump back.

“What?” John barked. “The hell?”

“I still can’t believe you said that,” Rodney said, shaking his head. “Prison sex?”

“Rodney,” John hissed, stalking over to where Rodney had retreated. “Stop running away.”

Rodney kept backing up, however. “I need time. You made me talk about it when I didn’t want to, so now I need time.”

John stopped walking. Rodney’s expression was open and honest, and more than a little lost. “Alright,” He murmured, taking a step back. “I understand.”

“Probably not,” Rodney said, “But thanks.”

“Yeah,” John whispered, running one hand through his hair. “I’d better get some sleep if I’m going to go harvesting tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, and I still have calculations to finish tonight,” Rodney added. “By the way, you smell gamey.”

John sighed and retreated to his quarters. At least he was tired enough he’d pass out from exhaustion.

•••

Rodney was holed up in his lab when John went to look for him the next morning and it looked like he hadn’t left all night. Instead of making a probably disastrous attempt to make casual conversation, John got right to the point. “I’m going to the mainland,” He said before leaving the lab, and Rodney, behind.

It was summer on Atlantis, which meant John got to enjoy bright sunshine and a pleasant breeze as he picked through the various plant life on the mainland. He recognized maybe four of the herbs the Athosians had identified as usable, so he stuck to them instead of guessing about the others. Accidentally poisoning their trading partners wasn’t a good idea in any dimension and John was taking no chances. Despite Rodney’s offer, John knew he’d be the one doing the trading. Rodney’s work on getting them home was more important; all John could do by himself in the city was worry about Rodney’s well-being.

Without anyone else on the planet competing for plant life, John’s work was quickly done. He loaded ten bins full of herbs into the ‘jumper, thinking of ways to hook them up so he could get them all through the ‘gate. One of the Ancient dust covers might work as a sled, he figured, since Rodney needed to stay behind and thus couldn’t really help him carry things through. He could take the ‘jumper through, but with only himself to do the work, the locals might get suspicious and he wasn’t going to reveal their technology.

Flying back to Atlantis was just as uneventful as the trip out and John mused for a minute about how this ‘jumper felt exactly like the ones in his city. It made sense that it did, but he caught himself thinking it should feel different. This wasn’t his city and this wasn’t his ‘jumper. His favorite one had been destroyed during the siege, but he’d since claimed another. Still, this ‘jumper felt like that one, and like all the others. John wished it didn’t, though. He wanted this city to feel alien, strange and uncomfortable. That way he wouldn’t ever get used to it.

“That was fast,” Rodney said as John exited the ‘jumper. He helped John unload the bins, sniffing disdainfully at the bitter plants. “At least someone likes them.”

“We should keep some back,” John suggested, picking through a few of the bins. “This one’s not bad if it’s cooked, and it’s not like we’ve got salt and pepper for that venison.”

“Don’t remind me,” Rodney grumbled. “Speaking of which, did you get that meat carved up before it froze?”

“Yes,” John replied shortly. He knew better than to let a whole carcass freeze intact. It would take days to thaw. “Grab a dust cover, would you? I need it to get all of these through the ‘gate.”

“I thought I was doing the trading,” Rodney said, frowning.

John shrugged. “What you’re doing here is a lot more important. Me? I’m a grunt, remember. It’s not like I’ll be able to finish up any of your work while you’re gone.”

“Point. Why don’t you just take the ‘jumper? The settlement isn’t right next to the ‘gate, so you can leave it cloaked. Much easier than carrying everything around by yourself,” Rodney replied. “Just tell them your help is shy around strangers.”

John nodded thoughtfully. “It could work,” He admitted, “Although they might get suspicious if I can do all the work by myself.”

“Make something up,” Rodney suggested. “I wish I’d taken a ‘jumper to Dagan, although I probably would’ve gotten caught with it.”

“It never occurred to me at all to have you take one,” John admitted. “Which was dangerously stupid.”

Rodney shrugged. “Understandable, though. I went two days without clean clothes because I forgot Atlantis had those automatic cleaners.”

John snickered briefly, since he’d remembered them. “Lucky me; I was gone while you stank.”

“Too bad about the soap,” Rodney retorted. “I had to put up with you.”

“Think they’ll mind that I smell?” John asked as he finished putting the bins back in the ‘jumper.

“Not enough to refuse to trade with you,” Rodney assured him. “They really like this stuff.”

Rodney ended up being right about the ‘jumper; with it cloaked and John’s brief excuse of his cohorts being shy the settlement didn’t question his solitary status. During the brief walk to the settlement proper, John rehearsed everything he remembered from their real first trading mission here. Teyla had been especially deferential to a couple of old women who seemed to hold particular sway over the population.

“Greetings,” The village elder intoned as John arrived. John bowed his head briefly, hoping they wouldn’t question his odd attire. “You, we have not encountered before.”

John winced internally. Taking a chance, he decided to mention the Athosians. “A mutual trading partner, the Athosians, mentioned that you sometimes have items to trade,” He murmured obsequiously. “My people grow a variety of plants and herbs. Perhaps they will suit your desires.”

“Perhaps,” The elder agreed.

Trading itself wasn’t all that difficult; John vaguely remembered what they got for the herbs the last time he’d been on a trading mission to the settlement. The two older ladies made their appearances and John gifted them with a full bin of their favorite herb, an act that immediately endeared him to everyone present. After that, it was only a matter of showing interest in one product or another for him to receive an offer.

When he was finally out of herbs, John had five bins full of fresh vegetables, four of bread products, and one of various things he thought they needed—such as the much desired soap. A group of young men helped him carry the bins back to the ‘gate, although they were reticent to leave him alone until he thoroughly explained that he did, in fact, have help that was simply too shy to come out of the woods.

“They’re young and this is their first time through,” John explained with a wink. “They’ll loosen up eventually.”

Once his helpers were well out of sight, John loaded up the ‘jumper and returned to Atlantis.

As he expected, Rodney was waiting for him. When he got to the ‘jumper bay, John opened the door and went back to hand the bins to Rodney. “Well?” Rodney asked excitedly as he accepted the first bin.

“We could go back every day for a month and not run out of takers,” John said as he handed off bin after bin. “I think they like me.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Rodney asked irritatedly. “They certainly did in our dimension.”

“Yeah, I know,” John admitted. “But this time? I knew what to say and who to say it to. Much, much easier than standing around like an idiot while Teyla excused our lack of manners.”

“I can imagine,” Rodney commented. “Hey, you got bread!”

John peered over the edge of the jumper. “I don’t know how to make bread.”

“Neither do I,” Rodney concurred. “And we can freeze all of this.”

John kept the tenth bin to haul himself. It was heavy but not unmanageable, so he carted it to his quarters before going back to the bay to help Rodney store their food.

“I thought you were going to get soap,” Rodney muttered when John reappeared. “I see a nice selection of seasonable vegetables and a plethora of flatbread, but no soap.”

“You also see nine bins; the tenth one had the soap in it. I took it to the quarters,” John explained

Rodney insisted on washing all the vegetables before storing them, much like he had the berries. “That should do us for a few weeks,” He said as the last bin went in the freezer. “And we’ve got enough meat for a good six months.”

“If we’re going to trade for more fresh food, we’ll need to do it soon,” John reminded him. “Once autumn hits, we’re not going to have anything from the mainland to trade for.”

“No,” Rodney agreed, “But we can go back to that planet where I spent three days fixing radios.”

“They had really shitty food,” John said, “And they were a little bit paranoid about our technology. It took Teyla four hours to calm them down.”

“I’ll help you get more herbs,” Rodney said by away of agreement. “Now, soap. I want a real shower.”

John led the way back to his quarters. Once there, he sorted through the contents of the last bin. “Clothes?” Rodney queried. “You bought clothes?”

“I do occasionally like changing them,” John told him. “Even if these have a certain farmer boy thing going on.”

Rodney sniffed at the plain, homespun fabric. “At least it’s not animal hair.”

“I’m not that dumb,” John grumbled. “Wool itches.”

“Except angora,” Rodney said, “And I’m not sure we’ll find anyone to trade us for fuzzy sweaters.”

John laughed at the mental image of Rodney in a pink fuzzy sweater. “Your precious soap,” He continued, splitting the bars of soap evenly between his and Rodney’s growing piles of things. “I went for the least flowery scent they made.”

“Thank you,” Rodney said earnestly. “Knowing our luck, I’d be allergic to it.”

“I did keep that in mind,” John said. He then pulled out a couple of jars. “Emollient. Looks like some type of vegetable butter.”

“Feeling chapped?” Rodney snarked, opening one jar to examine its contents. “Although not a bad choice. Smells like grass.”

“Could smell like something a lot worse,” John retorted, thinking of nasty horse liniment. “Oh, I could only afford one of these,” He said, withdrawing a strop and straight razor.

Rodney stared at the items in John’s hands like they were trying to bite him. “Why did we need one of them?”

“Do you want to grow a beard?” John asked. “You’re getting pretty scruffy there, McKay.”

“I notice you aren’t,” Rodney replied. “And I’ve never in my life used a straight razor and certainly not one crafted by an iron-age tribe.”

John smirked. “I’ve got a good field knife, but this will work better. I’ll even show you how.”

“You’re all heart,” Rodney muttered. “Anything else?”

There was only one thing left in the bin, so John took that out and placed the small, fabric-wrapped parcel on Rodney’s stack of things. “I didn’t buy that; it was a gift from one of the elders. It’s more your thing than mine, though.”

Rodney’s eyes darted to the parcel. “I don’t trust you.”

John rolled his eyes in a near-perfect imitation of Rodney’s usual moves. “Just take it, Rodney. I’m in no position to torture you; I’ve got no other way home. Just...you’ll like it, I think.”

Rodney considered it a moment before taking up his stack of belongings, parcel and all. “I think I’ll go take that shower now,” He said pointedly, exiting John’s room without a backward glance.

John shook his head at Rodney’s antics and began to strip down. Rodney might’ve wanted a shower, but John needed one. Even the traders had noticed his aroma.

The old ladies had laughed at him, even after he’d explained his predicament. Then they’d shared a few tips for getting rid of the smell when he didn’t have any soap around. Who knew urine was that useful?

John took his sweet time in the shower, luxuriating in finally feeling clean. The soap wasn’t the highly refined stuff they had back at home, nor was it unduly harsh; the makers had worked some type of oil into it to buffer the lye. He didn’t smell like a rose garden either, although he probably wouldn’t have minded if he had—roses were better than deer guts any day.

After he was clean and dry, John pulled on a pair of plain brown trousers. He figured Rodney would be nearly done—the man took longer to bathe than anyone John had ever met, male or female—so John picked up the razor and went to Rodney’s quarters.

He considered simply going in, but figured Rodney might not like being surprised by a guy with a knife. Instead, he knocked. “I’d ask who’s out there,” Rodney shouted, “But it’s not worth the effort, so just come in.”

Rodney was sitting on his bed, dressed in his usual uniform. In front of him was spread the contents of the parcel John had given him—an array of candy the elderly ladies had given him in return for his generous gift of herbs. “Like it?” John asked, nodding at the candy.

“Yes,” Rodney said around one piece. John expected him to stuff himself full of the sweetmeats, but instead Rodney selected one more before rolling the parcel back up. “But you like candy too; I’ve seen you steal cinnamon disks out of Carson’s office.”

“You like them more,” John pointed out. He sat down next to Rodney, holding the razor in his lap.

“Oh, that,” Rodney said, grimacing. He ran one hand along his rough cheek. “I hate, truly and utterly hate, the idea of a bare blade on my neck. I hate growing a beard even more, though.”

“It won’t hurt,” John promised, “So stop whining.” He stood up, looking pointedly at the bathroom. Once inside, he handed Rodney the dust cover he’d been using as a towel. “Take your shirt off and drape this on your shoulders.”

Rodney did as asked, all the while watching John, who reached into the shower stall for the bar of soap Rodney had used earlier. “It’s a lost art, really,” John said conversationally as he worked up some lather in his palms. “Other than a few barber shops you don’t even see people using them anymore.”

“That’s because safety razors are just that—safe,” Rodney complained. “Yet another thing I never thought I’d actually miss: electric shavers.”

“You use them?” John asked, surprised. “They’re awful.”

“They don’t go dull as fast as disposable razors,” Rodney replied. “And when you’re stationed in Russia...”

“Good point,” John conceded. “Stand here,” John ordered, pointing to the sink. “Watch in the mirror; it’s not difficult to do.”

Rodney watched like a hawk as John smoothed lather over his neck and face. “Always after you shower, just like with a safety razor,” John murmured, washing his hands off and drying them on the tail end of Rodney’s makeshift towel. “Otherwise you’ll get razor burn.”

“Or razor in the neck,” Rodney whined.

“Tilt your head back,” John said, ignoring Rodney’s complaining. He placed the fingers of one hand on Rodney’s jaw and slowly pulled the razor up Rodney’s neck, removing lather and hair with an even stroke. “Not too much pressure. You’re not likely to slice your neck open, but you’ll probably scrape skin off,” He warned.

Rodney remained silent as he catalogued the angle of the blade against his skin, the pressure John was using, and the rhythmic strokes that slowly bared his neck and face. John was pressed up against Rodney’s back and could feel the man start to relax as it became apparent John wasn’t going to slice his face off.

“See? Not so difficult,” John told him as he stepped away. Being so close to Rodney was a heady sensation, but Rodney needed time.

“I’ll probably kill myself the first time I try. It’s not like we’ve got much in the way of first-aid supplies,” Rodney replied as he turned on the tap and washed his face off.

“If you’re that sure you’ll do yourself damage,” John said, feeling more serious than he sounded, “I’ll just do it for you.”

Rodney looked up, catching John’s gaze in the mirror. “My own personal barber? How quaint.”

John shook his head and retreated from the bathroom. Leave it to Rodney to make sure no moment, no matter how intimate, stayed that way.

“Thanks,” Rodney said as he joined John. “Really.”

John shrugged. “How’s it going on your end?”

Rodney flopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve ruled out a hundred or so possible explanations, which leaves a few million to go,” He told John. “Although perhaps nine hundred thousand of them are so remote I’ll not bother unless the other hundred thousand don’t pan out.”

“Yeah,” John sighed. “Anything I can do to help?”

Silence answered him while Rodney thought, so John took a seat next to the window, even though there was space next to Rodney on the bed. Rodney needed time, and time was something they still had. “I know you can do the math, at least most of it. I spent this morning finishing the interface with the city’s database—which is much harder without any equipment—so we’ve got a lot more at our disposal now.”

“In Ancient,” John lamented. He wasn’t entirely proficient in the language yet.

“Actually, I managed to convince the city’s computers to display in English,” Rodney replied. “It’s better for numbers than for actual words, but it works.”

“Did we have that at home?”

“More or less, but it was routed through the computers we brought, not Atlantis itself,” Rodney confirmed. “That was mostly for convenience, rather than an actual difficulty in making the transition. The linguists didn’t want us corrupting the city’s databases.”

“Right,” John huffed. “Say...do you actually know how to cook venison?”

Rodney raised his head off the bed. “I know how to cook moose.”

“Moose?” John echoed. “Is that some Canadian thing?”

Rodney’s expression was classic Rodney. “You do know that a good number of people in northern regions of the United States eat moose, and a lot of Canadians don’t, hmm? No, I know how to cook moose because my mother’s parents had an inordinate fondness for it and made me learn how to prepare the stuff.”

“What about venison?” John pressed.

“It’s red meat,” Rodney replied. “Just... do with it what you do with beef, I guess. I’ve never been one for game, really.”

“Me either. Always tasted like acorns,” John admitted. “But we’re guys, so we can do grilling.”

Rodney blinked at John. “You would buy into macho stereotypes.”

“You can’t grill?” John asked, smirking. “The All-Amer... never mind, you’re right.”

“I can grill,” Rodney bit out, “But I’ll have you know it was my maternal grandmother who taught me how. The men in my family could burn water.”

“So could mine,” John commiserated, “Except for grilling. Give man fire and he will roast beast.”

“When we get home, I’m eating MREs for a month,” Rodney swore. “Fresh food is going to kill me.”

“I thought you liked the berries,” John retorted.

“Shut up, Colonel.”

•••

John was getting the hang of trading, even if it wasn’t his favorite activity. A careful bit of eavesdropping at the Yelph settlement he was at revealed that another planet favored their grain. After some questions, and a gift of herbs, he learned that they probably wouldn’t mind a visit from him. Moreover, there was a minor, and completely personal, argument going on between the two tribes’ elders, something about a betrothal gone sour. John’s generous offer to broker grain was met with a touch of suspicion until he also offered to leave all his herbs in trust.

“You’re sure you don’t need help?”

John turned back to the elders who had accompanied him. “Oh, I’m sure. This handcart was just the ticket.”

“So no help came with you this time?” He asked curiously, looking around.

“Perhaps next time,” John said with false regret. “I’ve been charged with training them, but it’s harder than I thought it would be. Their families protected them a little too much.”

The elder nodded sagely. “I understand; coddling only weakens us as we grow.”

John let the elder leave him before dialing Atlantis and sending his ID through. Rodney was not going to be happy.

“You have a cart full of grain,” Rodney said, pointing out the obvious.

“Which I’m about to turn around and trade to the Xaxathi,” John informed Rodney. “I’m doing the Yelph a favor, ok? There’s this petty personal thing going on between them, but they’re still trading so long as they can find an intermediary.”

“And they trust you, on your second trip there?” Rodney asked, incredulous.

“What can I say?” John replied, smirking. “We’re getting both favored status and a bonus for brokering the trade, so it’s not really hurting us. Plus, it will open trade with the Xaxathi, who aren’t nearly as trusting as the Yelph.”

“Who won’t be so trusting once the find out that in this dimension, the Athosians don’t know us,” Rodney stated. “At least the Athosians don’t visit the Xaxathi or the Yelph all that often.”

“Only every few years,” John agreed. “They were surprised when Teyla showed up, you know. They hadn’t been expecting us.”

“If we’re here that long, we’ll deal with it then,” Rodney said, shaking his head. “You’d better get to the Xaxathi. I’m in no mood to grind grain for bread I don’t know how to make.”

The Xaxathi weren’t particularly happy to see John—until they caught sight of the Yelph cart he was pulling. After that, they got friendly very fast and John learned more than he wanted to know about the hormonal underside of Pegasus Galaxy settlements. Teyla must have buffered him from this kind of thing when they went trading with her; he’d never been regaled with stories of who had wronged whom, and who was shorting grain, or selling off moldy wheat because someone didn’t put out. The Xaxathi didn’t have the Yelph’s taste for Atlantean herbs, at least from what John could discern. Their food tended toward the sweet instead of pungent and bitter.

Still, when John left it was with a cart full of dried foodstuffs and tanned animal hides for the Yelph along with a basket of assorted items for his troubles. The Xaxathi had some food he wouldn’t mind trading for, if he had something to use in barter. Unless he started up one of Atlantis’s greenhouses, however, that was unlikely.

•••

“You’re sure I have to go?” Rodney asked as he stood in the ‘gate room dressed in his new clothes. “I really don’t like leaving the city unattended.”

“They’re going to get suspicious if no one ever comes with me,” John told him for the third time, noting that Rodney didn’t look all that bad in the rustic attire. “And the ‘jumper’s still over there, cloaked. I like leaving it there even less than you like leaving the city.”

Rodney sighed and nodded. “Fine, but this better be a quick trip.”

“It will be, if you stay quiet. Remember, you’re my cousin. That way they won’t laugh at you for being one of the kids who never comes out to see them.”

“I promise not to talk,” Rodney agreed. Dagan had been a notable exception in Rodney’s generally unsuccessful attempts to be appreciated by anyone in this galaxy. He was in no mood to go through that kind of stuff in another dimension too.

The Yelph were quite happy to see John, particularly since he brought Rodney with him. Once they saw what he brought back, their moods brightened even more.

“What’s the shouting for?” Rodney asked under his breath.

“I drove a hard bargain,” John replied. “Got more than they were expecting.”

“Greetings, John of Canadia,” Murmured one of the settlement’s two eldest ladies—John’s favorite, in fact. She reminded him of his great grandmother.

“Canadia?” Rodney whispered. “You are dead, John.”

“Greetings,” John replied serenely. “This is my cousin, Rodney, also of Canadia.”

“Is he helping you train the young ones?” She asked, clearly amused at Rodney’s disgruntled expression.

“Oh, no,” John said, shaking his head firmly. “Rodney is usually too busy with our elders to deal with children.”

The old lady peered more closely at Rodney. “I’m often too busy as well,” She confided in him. “For the past fifteen years, I’ve been too busy. All the time.”

Rodney tried to bite back a grin, but it didn’t work. “I’m impressed,” He admitted. “I rarely manage a month.”

She patted him on the arm before turning away. “You’re young yet. Give it time.”

“I like her,” Rodney said to John as they resumed pulling the cart to where the other elders were gathered. “She’s mean to children, isn’t she?”

“That stick she carries isn’t for walking,” John commented evenly. “But she’s pretty cool, yeah. She made your candy.”

“She makes candy and she hates children,” Rodney said, mostly to himself. “Say, are the names Hansel and Gretel common around here?”

John’s laugh drew a few amused glances and a couple of outright stares. Their trading partner was a very pretty man, as was his new companion.

Rodney quickly realized John was, as he’d suspected, best suited to dealing with actual trade negotiations, so Rodney stuck close to the old women. They were ancient and snarky, with something cutting to say about everyone in the settlement. He wondered about them, whether they were widows or spinsters. From the way they sat together, he figured the latter.

“Your cousin,” Elkana murmured, looking at Rodney, “It is by marriage, no?”

Rodney looked over at her. “Excuse me?”

Balla snickered. “You and John are not related by blood. There are cousins, and then there are cousins.”

“I suppose,” Rodney demurred, turning his eyes back to the fire that burned erratically in front of him.

“Balla and I are cousins also,” Elkana told him. “And have been for some forty years now.”

Again Rodney stared at Elkana. “That’s a long time.”

“Perhaps,” She replied. “But it suits us, and them.” Her head tilted towards the others in the settlement.

Among the group she indicated was John, who appeared to be perusing a selection of knives. They didn’t need knives; they needed food and maybe some warmer clothes. More of the candy Elkana made wouldn’t be amiss either.

“Tell me about your people, about Canadia,” Balla said, changing the subject. “John says it is very cold there, with snow most of the year.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Most of his family is from another settlement farther south, America. They’re weak and hate winter.”

Elkana smirked. “Is what he said true, that in Canadia no one really cares what you do, so long as no one is hurt by it?”

Rodney found himself looking over at John again. “That’s one way of putting it, yes.” He was still watching John when Balla called to him again and he was drawn back into conversation, this time about the strange creatures called beavers.

“Enjoying yourself?” John asked as he sat down next to Rodney. Night had fallen some hours ago but they were still with the Yelph, enjoying a night with company other than their own.

“Yes,” Rodney said without rancor. “Your lady friends are quite a pair.”

“They’ve been terrorizing this place for decades,” John confirmed. “And no one here would know what to do without them.”

“You told them beavers were flesh eating monsters,” Rodney replied. “And that hockey is a fight with an occasional attempt at competition.”

John shrugged absently. “It was better than telling them about America. Hockey’s easier to explain than baseball.”

“And the weather there is nice enough that someone might want to visit. You’ve got them convinced ‘Canadia’ is the most unpleasant settlement in the galaxy.”

“They wanted to come to us,” John argued. “And how, exactly, was I supposed to get out of that?”

Rodney looked over at him, scowling. “You could’ve pronounced it correctly. Canadia makes my country sound like a state.”

“I’m sorry,” John apologized. “It was supposed to be funny.”

Rodney was silent for a long moment. “It is,” He said, and both men laughed. After a moment, though, they were quiet again. “They know we’re not cousins.”

John nodded slowly. “They’re sharp-eyed, those two.”

“They think we’re lovers.” Rodney still stared at the fire, poking at it with a stick.

“We could be,” John reminded him. “If you wanted.”

“Oh, I want,” Rodney conceded. “It’s not what I want that’s the problem.”

“Then what is it?” John asked, watching Rodney as Rodney watched the fire.

Rodney studied the fire and the people sitting beside the fire across the settlement’s center. “It’s what I don’t want that’s getting in the way.”

John glanced up at the stars, brighter than they ever were on Earth. “Tell me what you don’t want and I won’t let you have it.”

“I don’t want to be stuck here for the rest of my life,” Rodney said to the fire. “I don’t want to go home and find out it’s too late and everyone’s dead. I don’t want to wake up alone because someone got tired of me again.”

John edged closer to Rodney, until their knees brushed together. “I’m not really the expert on the first two,” He admitted. “But I can do the math for you. The third, that one I’ll work on, though.”

Rodney just stared at the fire until Balla and Elkana came to bid them farewell.

•••

“What the hell are we going to do with a dozen Yelph knives?” Rodney griped as he went through the things they’d brought back with them. “Not even you need that many weapons.”

“Decoration,” John offered as he checked out the boots they’d been given. The leather was supple, the craftsmanship immaculate. “Be nice, Rodney. They gave you boots. Nice ones, too.”

“I have boots,” Rodney retorted. “Nice ones, with orthopedic insoles.”

“Yeah, but these are transdimensional boots. How many people back home can say they have boots from another dimension?”

Rodney’s glare was amusingly condescending. “Unless they’re ruby boots and I can click their heels together and wish myself home, they’re just boots.”

John ignored Rodney’s complaining and continued divvying up the goods. “Looks like Elkana sent you more candy,” He said, holding up a parcel somewhat larger than the first one he’d received.

“She did?” Rodney said eagerly, reaching for the oblong package. “I forgot to mention the candy.”

“I might have,” John confessed without guilt. “She did ask if I liked it.”

“What did you tell her, that it was your only form of nourishment?” Rodney inquired as he looked through the now-open parcel. “There’s got to be a couple hundred pieces here.”

John shrugged and reached for a jar of something gooey. “I might’ve mentioned that I had this cousin with a sweet tooth.”

Rodney’s head swiveled around, but John was so busy determining what the gooey stuff was that he didn’t see the look on Rodney’s face. He was so focused on it he didn’t even notice Rodney moving until the jar was taken out of his hands and set on the table. Then Rodney had him pushed back against it.

John wasn’t sure what prompted Rodney to kiss him like he was, but it didn’t really matter all that much. Sweet and slick was all that John could think; Rodney’s mouth tasted like maple sugar and anise—Elkana’s candy—and faintly of the weak beer they’d had at the Yelph settlement. Rodney was kissing him slow and deep, his hands holding John at the waist so they were pressed together from chest to knee. John drifted with the sensation of warmth radiating from Rodney’s body, dizzy from the kiss and rather glad the table was supporting them.

“It’s late,” Rodney murmured against John’s mouth as he ended the kiss.

“Mm hmm,” John agreed, leaning in for another kiss. Rodney let him, but quickly ended it.

“We should go to bed,” He told John, his eyes focused on John’s now-swollen mouth. “Work tomorrow.”

“Bed,” John agreed mindlessly, “Beds are good.”

Rodney snorted and stepped back, taking hold of John’s arm. “Come on, you’re obviously insensate.”

“Not yet I’m not,” John muttered as he let Rodney lead him out of the man’s lab. He had the distinct impression they were, in fact, going to bed—but not separately. At least, he had hopes. Rodney didn’t seem overly tired, despite the talk about how late it was. The ‘gate was locked down, the Wraith in this dimension were in hibernation and John wanted rather desperately to get laid. By Rodney.

John’s suspicions were confirmed when Rodney stopped at his own quarters instead of John’s. If Rodney was planning on making him go to bed alone, they’d have stopped at John’s place first. Indeed, Rodney led him inside without a word, not letting go of John’s arm until the door slid shut behind him.

Rodney crossed over to his bed, gathering up a few Ancient artifacts and placing them on a nearby table. John then watched as Rodney unfastened the laces on his shirt before pulling it up over his head and letting it fall onto the chair next to him.

Rodney had a nice body, one John found absurdly appropriate. If he’d been too perfect, John would’ve wondered about his genius status; nobody got gifted with both brains and beauty in extra helpings. He wasn’t unattractive, though. No, Rodney was solid. John liked solid, liked it a lot.

But now Rodney’s eyebrows were arching, waiting for John to get with the program. “What?” John asked even as he began removing his clothes.

Rodney sat down on the bed and pulled at his shoes. “You’re slow tonight, aren’t you?”

“Didn’t realize we were in a hurry,” John replied as he leaned against the wall to remove his own boots.

Rodney looked at him for a few seconds before standing. “No, I guess we aren’t,” He murmured, reaching for the fastenings on his trousers. John had caught up to Rodney and even passed him; by the time Rodney had draped the last of his clothes on the chair John was across the room, reaching for what he’d been wanting to touch for so long now.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Rodney huffed as John ran his hands down Rodney’s chest, sliding along strong thighs and back up. John watched Rodney’s eyes grow heavy and fall shut and yeah, Rodney would be a sensualist, losing himself in the simplest of sensations.

John flattened his hands on Rodney’s chest and pushed back until Rodney’s eyes slowly opened and he fell backwards onto the bed, immediately crawling to its center. John followed on hands and knees, inching on top of Rodney. Slowly, letting every tiny drag of skin-on-skin register on that expressive face. When he was completely on top of Rodney, John eased himself down, covering as much body as he could with his own. Skin was a lovely thing and Rodney’s unusually so, smooth and warm and soft except where it wasn’t. Rodney shifted a little until his erection lay alongside John’s, sandwiched between them and completely hard.

“So I take it you’ve had enough time to think?” John asked, not-quite-smirking at Rodney’s dazed expression.

“Shut up,” Rodney said affectionately before pressing a hand to the back of John’s neck and bringing him down for a kiss.

It was simple, the gentle rocking that slid his cock against Rodney’s. Effortless also was the touching; Rodney’s nipples were all too easy to pluck and tease, rendering Rodney’s usually incisive tongue mute. John thought Rodney sounded good even when he was just moaning in time with their bodies’ movements, hands stroking John’s back in absent encouragement.

John had forgotten how it felt to have another man’s legs wrap around his own, to feel the added friction of hair making each motion more sensual. It was the same rough feeling that sparked between them when John went back for another careful kiss, their chests together. Rodney wasn’t protesting the weight; no, he even held John closer, keeping John from propping himself up on his arms.

Slow was good, slow and simple. He’d thought he’d just get the first time over with, suck Rodney off and then take it from there. This was better, though, carefully learning how Rodney responded from the very first time. Quick and dirty could come later, in the shower maybe after they’d outlasted their tolerance for sticky skin and drying sweat.

“John,” Rodney murmured against John’s cheek, hands leaving John’s back to trace his jaw.

“Hmm?” John hummed, moving faster now, letting his body urge them along.

One of Rodney’s hands left John’s face to push between them, closing around their erections and John knew what Rodney was asking. He levered himself up a little, just enough to reach between them also, his hand joining Rodney’s and quickening the pace.

He couldn’t kiss Rodney like this, but John could watch every flicker of arousal and lust that flashed across his face. This was what he wanted, from that first kiss in the ‘gate room and long before that moment as well. It was lust, yeah, but lust with something else, something that made him want to slow down even as his body said go faster.

Something he never would’ve found back at home, where there were too many people and too many crises to let him take his time with Rodney. When orgasm hit, John kept stroking even though the sensation was too much. He forced his eyes to stay open when they wanted to snap shut against the seething pleasure of it. Rodney was watching him and John couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop wanting to bring Rodney to where he was.

Then Rodney stilled, his neck arching sharply as wet warmth spilled on top of warmth. John lowered himself back down, pressing feathery kisses along Rodney’s jaw until the man came back to him, catching John’s mouth with his own.

“That was messy,” Rodney said when they finally parted, his voice a little breathless.

“That was good,” John countered lazily, rolling his hips once just because he could. Both of them shuddered, their bodies protesting the stimulation.

“Yeah,” Rodney agreed sleepily. “It was.”

John knew he and Rodney would never agree on some things, and only occasionally agree on others. If John had his way, though, they would always agree on that.

•••

John woke up alone, sprawled out in Rodney’s bed. The lack of warm spots around him confirmed that Rodney hadn’t been in bed with him for some time, a fact that irked John more than a little. It also struck him as futile; with no one in the city but the two of them, how was Rodney going to avoid him on the morning-after?

Instead of tracking Rodney down right away, John went back to his quarters and cleaned up. A brief scan via Atlantis’s sensors showed that Rodney was in his lab, so John swung by the freezer for breakfast and then directed himself to where Rodney was hiding.

John crunched on a few frozen berries as he walked into the lab, glaring at Rodney as the man stayed bent over a data pad. He stepped loudly as he crossed the room, letting his boots slap the floor with resounding thumps.

Rodney straightened and turned toward John right as he reached the work table. John was fully prepared to chew Rodney a new asshole for running away, or maybe lay on a heavy guilt trip for being a coward. What John wasn’t prepared for was to watch Rodney’s usual busy-working-thinking expression to shift into slightly awkward joy. He also wasn’t expecting Rodney to take a step towards him and press them together for a long, mind-melting kiss.

“You taste like raspberries,” Rodney murmured as he leaned back. “Breakfast?”

“Mm hmm,” John hummed, sighing slightly as he reached for Rodney again. The second kiss was as slow as the first; Rodney worked his hands under John’s shirt to let them rest against his sides, holding John in place.

“More?” Rodney asked when the kiss ended. John blinked and nodded, capturing Rodney’s mouth again. Kissing was something John could always do. Well, he could kiss all day unless Rodney started laughing. It was nearly impossible to kiss deeply and laugh at the same time.

“What?” John grumbled, hazy from making out but vaguely insulted that Rodney was laughing.

Rodney’s grin was soft, however. “I meant the berries,” He said, pressing a quick kiss to John’s pout. “Although kissing is good too. It’s just not particularly nutritious, from a raising-my-blood-sugar standpoint.”

“I brought more,” John confirmed, tightening his grip on Rodney’s hips so the man couldn’t go anywhere. “You left.”

Rodney blinked a couple of times. “When?”

“This morning,” And John knew he sounded a touch petulant. He couldn’t help it; Rodney had left.

This time Rodney’s expression slid right back into one of his workday looks, the ‘I’m not ignoring you, I’m ignoring your ignorance’ one, and it was normally one of John’s favorites unless it was directed at him. In a flash, however, that look fled in exchange for friendly amusement. “I woke up with an idea; you were sleeping. I thought you might want to keep doing so.”

John harrumphed wordlessly. “What kind of idea?”

“A bad one, apparently; it didn’t work out--although I’ve ruled out more explanations,” Rodney conceded. “I’m about out of ideas; hell, right now I’m almost willing to trust the ghost-Kavanagh’s conclusions about that circuitry.”

“Would it help?” John inquired, releasing Rodney long enough to grab the bowl of berries he’d brought with him. He selected a few and placed them in his mouth, crunching down on half-frozen flesh.

“Maybe, or it might kill us. I think our deaths would be fast, though,” Rodney answered as John brought them together for a juicy, tart kiss. “Raspberries again,” Rodney sighed happily.

“Mm,” John concurred, licking a droplet of juice from the corner of Rodney’s mouth. “So you’re done being disappointed with this idea that woke you up?” He asked as he pushed a couple more berries between Rodney’s lips.

Rodney crunched down on the berries, eyebrows curling down as he thought. “I really should start working through the possible solutions that could utilize Kavanagh’s findings, now that I’ve narrowed the list to a few hundred different explanations,” He murmured.

“Right now?” John inquired, brushing his lips along Rodney’s. He deepened the kiss, searching for Rodney’s taste beneath that of sour-sweet berries.

When Rodney broke away, he was more than a little breathless. “I wasn’t aware that we had anything more important to do,” He told John. Before John could react to the comment, though, Rodney continued. “Although we could go back to bed. Strictly speaking, sex isn’t as important as finding a way home...but at the moment I find my priorities somewhat skewed.”

“Good,” John replied, tracing his tongue along Rodney’s ear. “I want you to fuck me,” He whispered, rocking his hips against Rodney’s. “So deep I’ll still be feeling it for days.”

Rodney shuddered, hands grasping at John’s arms. “Okay,” He mumbled, swallowing audibly. “I’m good with that.”

John led them to his quarters, never letting go of Rodney. It wasn’t that he thought Rodney was going to flee, not at all. Hell, Rodney was urging them along, taking sidelong glances at John every few seconds. John just didn’t want to stop touching Rodney, didn’t want to lose the sensation of Rodney’s pulse hammering in his veins.

“Did I mention how much I love the bed idea?” Rodney asked as he pulled away from John, already sitting down to remove his shoes. “Because I do. I really, really do.”

“You might’ve, once or twice,” John answered, amused. Rodney was hard, erection springing free as his clothes fell to the floor. John wanted to taste him, to suck Rodney down and listen to him moan. When John reached for him, however, Rodney twisted so that they tumbled onto the bed, John underneath him.

“So,” Rodney began, hands curving around John’s arms.

“What?” John murmured, arching his back to rub himself along Rodney’s body. Sucking could wait; Rodney’s cock was digging into his groin and John wanted it inside him, the sooner the better.

“Lube?”

In response, John pulled his arm free and grabbed the jar of emollient on his nightstand. “Useful stuff,” He muttered, shoving the container into Rodney’s palm. “Prevents chapping.”

“Uh huh,” Rodney said, smirking, as he put the jar beside them on the bed and leaned in for a kiss. John opened his mouth at the gentle pressure, accepting Rodney’s tongue like they’d been lovers for years, not less than a day. He was grateful they’d had the night before to take the edge off; he was aroused but not to the point of flipping Rodney over and simply taking what he wanted.

While they kissed, Rodney pushed his legs between John’s, settling down deeper and rocking slowly. “I’m never going to be able to eat raspberries in public,” Rodney declared when the kiss ended. “Not without embarrassing myself.”

John grinned delightedly. “It could be worse,” He pointed out. “They could taste like coffee or chocolate.”

Rodney’s eyes widened, even as he opened the jar John had provided. “Don’t even think it, John. If you ever make it so I can’t have those things in public...”

“Yeah?” John asked, entranced by the way Rodney methodically coated his fingers, rubbing the lubricant to warm it.

A quick shift and Rodney’s weight was gone. Slickness slid down John’s cock, warm and fragrant with the perfume of summer fields. “I’ll never do this again,” Rodney promised, circling John’s entrance with barely-there pressure.

John squirmed, wanting Rodney to push into him. “What if it happens accidentally?” He asked breathlessly as Rodney’s finger finally breached him. Oh, that was good, just what he’d been wanting. Thick, muscular finger, pushing in and unerringly locating his prostate. It was good, great and in a few minutes it would get even better.

“Make sure it never happens,” Rodney insisted, withdrawing to gather more lubricant. He returned with two fingers, scissoring them apart and twisting them, managing to move with John’s erratic thrusting.

John squeezed his eyes shut, not able to keep from groaning as Rodney stroked him inside. That emollient must have had warming properties because everywhere Rodney touched him felt heated. “Whatever you want,” John promised, “Just fuck me, okay?”

Rodney slicked himself up before moving back on top of John. “Since you insist,” He murmured, letting John drape his legs over his shoulders. Rodney waited until John opened his eyes again before pushing his cock inside.

John sighed in relief as he was opened, the feeling of fullness a welcome one after so much wanting. “This is good,” He groaned in an echo of last night. And it was; Rodney fucked him slowly, moving inward inexorably until they were fully joined. John wanted to feel it and he was, even without the force he’d thought he wanted.

“Good,” Rodney agreed before withdrawing almost completely. John rose to meet him on the return stroke, breath hitching as Rodney’s cock shoved against the perfect spot. He clenched hard around Rodney, arms coming up to drag Rodney closer.

Rodney kissed him briefly before arching back and now John was getting fucked hard and fast. He knew he was moaning and maybe even screaming, but he didn’t care one bit. Rodney’s eyes were wild, dark and wide as he rode John with uncontrolled thrusts. John kept one hand on Rodney’s shoulder and gripped his own cock with the other.

“Fuck, John,” Rodney hissed, watching John touch himself. He was irresistible like that, shamelessly taking pleasure in his own body and in Rodney’s.

John heard his name and grinned at the arousal in Rodney’s voice. Then Rodney thrust harder, shoving John into the bed and lifting his hips up for a better angle. John stroked himself faster, unable to hold off the orgasm he felt building. It was just what he wanted, hard and deep with no hesitation.

He heard the sharp cry just before John’s body tightened around him. Rodney pushed past it, fingers digging into John’s thighs as he tried desperately to ride out John’s climax. He couldn’t look away, though; John’s neck arched, flinging his head back against the pillow as semen fell on his chest and stomach.

Aftershocks left John shocky and boneless, but still he managed open his eyes and find Rodney’s face in time to see him come, mouth open and gasping as he froze deep inside John’s body. He was bent in half, draped over Rodney’s shoulders with his own head shoved into the bedclothes. John didn’t care, not when he was blissed out and Rodney was panting and slumping down on top of him.

Rodney pushed John’s legs down and tried to catch his weight as he fell. John reached for him, turning them sideways so Rodney didn’t crush him too much. Then he dipped his head, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Rodney’s throat, licking at the salt gathered there.

“Mm,” Rodney hummed, nestling closer to John’s idly wandering tongue. “Don’t stop,” He suggested when John seemed to be moving away.

John couldn’t stop the grin splitting his face. “Never,” He swore before licking his way up Rodney’s neck and into a sleepy, sloppy kiss.

•••

“You’d think this place would start to feel like home,” John said as he sprawled out on the balcony floor next to Rodney. Another long, torturously boring days doing math was over, with nothing to show for it but a tension headache and inky nightfall.

“It just feels weirder the longer we stay,” Rodney confirmed softly. “There’s no sign the Wraith are awake, but...”

“I keep waiting for the ‘gate to open and this dimension’s version of us to walk through,” John added. “And if I hear one more person in our dimension say they sort of miss my dorky grin...”

“Or my megalomaniacal ranting,” Rodney remarked. “I’m tired.”

John rolled onto his side, bringing him in contact with Rodney. “Long day, honey?”

Rodney thwapped John on the shoulder. “Don’t even start, Colonel.” John had been working just as long as Rodney and now that they had enough supplies to last them a long while, he didn’t even get to take field trips off-world. Rodney gave it another week before John started taking a ‘jumper to the mainland for a few days’ rest from Rodney.

In response, John curled around Rodney, burying his face in Rodney’s neck. Rodney relaxed in his arms, edging down until he found John’s mouth. “I was thinking,” John murmured as the kiss ended, “We really do have a golden opportunity here.”

Rodney frowned, shifting them until John was underneath him. “I probably won’t like this, but do tell.”

John’s grin only reinforced Rodney’s concern. “With nobody else in the city...”

“We are not having sex in public,” Rodney spat. “Public displays of sexual intimacy are something I have never enjoyed as a spectator and I don’t intend on ever engaging in as a participant.”

John’s hands crept up to cup Rodney’s ass, pushing him down against John’s groin. “Not even on a nice, abandoned balcony, with two moons and a sky full of stars?”

Rodney rolled his eyes but made no move to escape John’s grip. “Colonel, my idea of romance is fidelity, not al fresco sex.”

“John,” John whispered, bending his head to Rodney’s neck. He supposed fidelity was romantic, but there was something to be said for moonlit strolls on empty beaches.

“Er?” Rodney hummed, tilting his head to give John better access.

“That’s my name, unless you’ve got some kink involving uniforms and commanding officers,” John said, breath ghosting across Rodney’s ear. “Of course, I could start calling you Doctor, even if it sounds like you’re about to stick a thermometer up my—

Rodney wasn’t above using John’s own tactics to shut him up and kissing John was very effective at stopping a rambling commentary that wasn’t doing anything for Rodney’s arousal. John’s hands tugged at his waistband, sliding inside to stroke his cock. Rodney had been planning to move this inside, but John was busy kissing him brainless and twisting his wrist just right.

“Just this once,” John sighed, flipping them over again and pulling Rodney’s clothes off. The sounds Rodney made when John swallowed him down were striking against the soft murmur of ocean and the utter silence of the empty city.

Rodney was too busy losing his mind to argue.

•••

“There is a bright side to our situation,” Rodney commented as he grabbed a roast beast sandwich from the pile of food John brought to his lab. He’d arrived there just in time to see Dr. Zelenka walk out—right through him, no less—and then disappear.

“Aside from you having your own personal chef and manservant?” John inquired. Most days, that was his job; he fed and watered Rodney, wandered the halls looking for ghost-images from their dimension, and stopped by the lab to do whatever math Rodney wanted him to do.

Life wasn’t bad, interdimensional accidents aside.

Rodney waved a very sarcastic hand in John’s direction. “Everybody in the city’s still idiotic, but I don’t have to hear them very often.” Apparently Zelenka hadn’t been overly enlightening during his brief appearance.

“Right,” John murmured. “I thought you were working with that idea Kavanagh had.”

“I am,” Rodney mumbled around a bite of sandwich, “But he’s still an idiot.”

John laughed and turned back to the equations he was supposed to be solving. “Whatever you say, Rodney.”

Rodney muttered something profane under his breath and proceeded to polish off the rest of his lunch. Seven weeks of hard work had left him with three strong possibilities, one of which John’s mathematics was probably proving useless. If one of the remaining two didn’t work, Rodney had a strong suspicion he’d be forced to admit he was out of ideas.

This Atlantis was comfortable, but it wasn’t that comfortable. As much as this dimension felt like their own, Rodney wasn’t willing to take a chance on returning to Earth. As he and John had agreed, there was too much of a chance they were wrong and Earth was under Go’auld control, or maybe the Replicators had taken over. Or, Earth in this dimension hadn’t...

Rodney shook his head, forcing himself not to think about it. He was, after all, the smartest person in two galaxies. He could get them home.

Eventually.

“This one’s no good,” John announced, pushing the results of his work across the workspace. “Unless you really want to have us cross through the ‘gate and not rematerialize.”

Rodney winced. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

“It’s this part here,” John said, indicating a series of equations. “They have to have a rational solution in order for your model to work.”

“Any particular one?” Rodney asked, flipping between the last two options he had. Both of them contained the possibility of a rational solution.

John shrugged. “The closer to zero, the better.”

An Ancient display appeared in front of John’s seat. “You work that one,” Rodney ordered. “I’ll do the other.”

•••

In the end, John determined that the best possibility was neither the one he worked on, nor Rodney’s, but rather another version entirely.

“You can’t be right,” Rodney groused, even as he confirmed John’s work. “I’m the physics genius here.”

John scratched his nose and shrugged. “Yeah, and I’m the gun-toting math guy. Most of this stuff? Math.”

Rodney’s expression didn’t lighten. “If I wasn’t as self-aware and mature as I am, I’d withhold sex just for that comment.”

“But since you’re self-aware and mature...” John prompted, smirking madly at the audacity of the statement.

“I’m going to let it go,” Rodney replied loftily. “Although my magnanimity would be more convincing if it didn’t involve me making sure I get to keep having sex with you. And, after we get this programmed into Atlantis’s computer, we can go home.”

John’s snarky reply was lost in the realization that they could go home. “If it works,” He said, not wanting to let himself get too hopeful. “Like you said, it might not.”

Rodney was already working on something else, however; his hands waved off John’s statement. “We’ll send a message to Atlantis; if I format it correctly and they get it, we’ll know that it works and won’t kill us.”

“How will we know they got it?” John asked. “Are you going to tell them to put smiley face stickers on their shirts?”

Rodney’s grin was downright evil. “I was thinking pink triangles, but the premise is the same.”

•••

“Incoming!”

Dr. Weir and Colonel Caldwell shared a glance and ran from her office to the ‘gate room. “We don’t have any teams out,” She said as the ‘gate engaged.

“I know,” Dr. Zelenka muttered. “The shield is in place.”

The wormhole glittered behind the shield, and then closed. “Er,” Colonel Caldwell began, “That was quick.”

“Radek?” Dr. Weir prompted.

“A moment,” He said, frowning at the display. “Dr. Kavanagh...”

“I’ve got it, yeah,” Dr. Kavanagh snapped. “Data transmission.”

“From where?” Dr. Weir demanded. “Earth?”

Radek checked the ‘gate logs twice, just to be sure. “No,” He said slowly, “Atlantis.”

Dr. Weir blinked. “We got a data transmission from our own ‘gate?”

“The first segment of the data burst was designed to bypass the ‘gate’s shield—it hacked into the ‘gate controls from the other side, transmitting the information along with the ‘gate coordinates,” Dr. Kavanagh explained. “Whoever did it knew exactly how our shielding works.”

“What’s the data?” Colonel Caldwell demanded. “A virus?”

Dr. Zelenka examined the file. “It’s compatible with Atlantis’s systems, without any of our own technological modifications,” He determined. “And it appears to be a text file.”

“Can you isolate it--let us see the contents without exposing the entire city?” Dr. Weir asked.

“Am sending to a console now,” Dr. Zelenka replied. “Kavanagh will then disconnect the console from the city.”

A minute later, the command crew was gathered around a console, staring at a text file written in English.

Dr. Weir, Colonel Caldwell:

This message was transmitted by Dr. Rodney McKay and Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. Obviously, we didn’t die in the ‘gate accident.

“How?” Dr. Weir whispered.

“Read on,” Dr. Zelenka prompted.

There was a circuitry malfunction, one Dr. Kavanagh located, which caused a power surge. McKay says that due to some incredible luck and some sort of built-in failsafe, we ended up in another dimension instead of being killed in the explosion. The accident has linked the dimension we’re in with the one you’re in, but from what we can tell we’re the only ones who’ve experienced the effects of that link.

“I was right,” Dr. Kavanagh crowed. “See?”

“Shut up,” Caldwell barked.

We’ve spent the last couple of months working out a way to get back to your dimension. We’d get into the details, but this message has to be very short or McKay’s little work-around for the shield won’t be able to get all of it through to you. Suffice to say, we think we’ve got a solution. We’re going to need your help, though.

“We can fix that circuitry,” Kavanagh offered.

Please, don’t mess with the city’s circuitry, Kavanagh. We need it just like it was at the time of the accident. What we need from you is confirmation that you’ve received this message. We’re using this message as a test-run for our possible solution. If it made it to you intact, then our idea will probably work and we can come home.

“How are they going to know?” Caldwell asked Dr. Weir.

Remember we said we had aftereffects of the link between our dimensions? Specifically, we can sometimes see people in your dimension. Kavanagh, you can’t have McKay’s office. Colonel Caldwell, Sheppard was not the person who programmed the city to turn off your hot water—but if we get back, he’ll tell you who it was. See, we get these ghost-images of your dimension. When you appear, we can hear and see you, although you don’t seem to be able to hear us.

“That’s...” Dr. Weir began, only to fade away when she couldn’t complete the sentence.

So if you get this message, we need you to do something so we can tell you got it. Don’t bother trying to send a message back to us; you don’t have the correct setup or power supply right now. McKay suggests you put a large, obvious mark, such as a flaming orange circle, on everyone’s uniforms, right on the front. The only things we see from your dimension are sizable life forms—humans—not furniture, machinery or so on. When we do see you, you don’t appear very clearly so any mark has to be extremely vivid. If you mark everyone, then we’ll be able to see that you got the message no matter who shows up. So far we’ve seen just about everyone on Atlantis, but not at the same time.

“It’s doable,” Zelenka told Dr. Weir.

If we see that you’ve gotten the message then we’ll make our attempt to return. Oh, and it would be much, much easier on us if, next time it looks like the city is dialing itself, you drop the shield. We’ve worked very hard trying to get back and running into that shield would be a pretty shitty way to die after all this effort.

--Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Dr. Rodney McKay

“Orange circles?” Dr. Kavanagh mused. “Why orange?”

“Bright,” Zelenka replied. “What they say is possible, though very improbable. However, they have included both McKay’s and Sheppard’s IDs in the message,” He told Dr. Weir and Colonel Caldwell.

“They’re not dead,” Dr. Weir said, still staring at the brief message. “Colonel, we have to make it known we got the message.”

Colonel Caldwell pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “I can’t say I like this at all,” He began, “But you’re right.”

•••

“I hate waiting,” Rodney griped. The message John composed had been sent two days ago, but in the ensuing time they’d only seen one group of their people and that had been only a few minutes after the message went through—too soon to tell if it worked.

“What if sending the message severed the connection?” John asked worriedly.

Rodney grunted in annoyance. “I told you that it wouldn’t,” He reminded John. “The connection won’t end until we correct the circuitry on the other Atlantis and reboot the ‘gate control computers.”

“We usually see people more than this,” John pointed out. “You want to get something to eat?”

“Yes, although I feel the urge to point out that it’s you who needs distracting right now, not me,” Rodney replied with a smirk. “And that doesn’t happen very often.”

John knew it happened more often than Rodney knew, but he wasn’t ready to admit it yet. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever tell Rodney exactly how frantic he’d been while Rodney was off getting the ZPM.

“We can’t take all this with us,” John told Rodney as they heated up supper. “It’s too much to carry and we aren’t taking a ‘jumper.”

Rodney stared longingly at the still-robust supply of berries. “We can’t leave them here either, though. The power backup I designed to let us sink the city again won’t hold out like it should with the environmental systems activated.”

“Dump it in the ocean,” John suggested. “Let the fish take care of it.”

Rodney nodded slowly. “What about us?”

“Huh?” John murmured. “What about us?”

Rodney’s hands fluttered nervously. “When we get back. How is this going to work? Will it? It’s different here, we’re different here. There’s nobody watching us, nobody else...”

John watched Rodney’s expression shift between frustration and sadness. “Why would it change? I’m not going anywhere you aren’t, Rodney.”

Rodney didn’t respond, other than to frown severely and reach for a pear-like fruit for dessert.

The rest of their meal was silent; Rodney checked and rechecked his calculations while John thought about leaving. He wanted to leave a message, in case Earth sent a crew to the city at some point. Even considering ethical and metaphysical issues, it would be best for the galaxy if no one woke up the Wraith early.

Nightfall brought nothing but anxiety and restlessness to Atlantis. Rodney was obsessed with making sure he had the city’s power grid arranged to his liking, so John wandered the halls, putting everything in its place. He was also keeping an eye out for any ghost-images, hoping to catch sight of confirmation they’d gotten the message.

It wasn’t absentminded ambling that brought John to Elizabeth’s stasis chamber. He sat down in front of it, holding in one hand a sealed letter. In his own dimension, he’d never gotten the chance to talk to this Elizabeth, not like he’d wanted to. Rationally, John knew there wasn’t anything anyone could do for her, in any dimension; she was simply too old to live long out of stasis.

He fixed the letter on the stasis chamber and left, knowing it was time to record the other message he wanted to leave behind.

•••

“We should have slept in shifts,” Rodney said as he prodded John awake. “What if they showed up while we were sleeping?”

John rolled over and laid his head on Rodney’s chest. “We’ll see them, Rodney. Look, we’ve been here two months and yeah, I’m more than ready to get back. I’d still rather actually sleep at night; I’ve been prowling this city alone enough already.”

Rodney was silent for a moment. “It is pretty creepy without anyone here,” He agreed before pushing John aside and getting out of bed. “Oh, I know you messed with one of the computers. You do realize the first thing I’m going to do this morning is find out what you did and correct it, hmm?”

John glared at Rodney’s back as the man entered the bathroom. While Rodney was showering, John got the city to hide his message. Rodney wasn’t the only one with tech savvy.

Since his shower was occupied and Rodney hadn’t acted like he wanted company, John pulled on a pair of trousers and went to the freezer for some breakfast. Berries were getting a bit boring, so he opted for the last of the vegetables they’d traded for. Even frozen and raw, they tasted good.

John was heading back to his quarters when three Marines appeared in the hallway, marching towards him. They were silent, but their expressions were odd, to say the least—they looked a little uncomfortable and a lot embarrassed.

Then he saw why. On the fronts of their uniforms, right underneath their names, were garish neon green-and-pink stars. John didn’t wait for them to disappear; he ran right past them to go find Rodney.

“What?” Rodney asked as John stumbled into their now-shared quarters. “Do you have to do that exercise thing so early in the morning?”

“They got the message,” John panted, leaning against the door. “I saw it. Green and pink stars, three Marines. Couldn’t be anything else.”

Rodney dropped the towel he’d been using on his hair and reached for his shoes. “Come on, we’re going home.”

The final preparations for their return didn’t take long, since they’d been getting ready for several days. John emptied the freezer while Rodney got Atlantis back underwater and its environmental systems shut down. When John reached the ‘gate room, Rodney was pacing in front of the controls.

“Ready?” John asked, checking the display one last time. After the ‘gate shut behind him, Atlantis was programmed to revert to its previous state and then remain dormant until someone else came along to awaken it again.

“No, but we’re going back anyway,” Rodney muttered as he pressed in the ‘gate coordinates. The wormhole opened with its characteristic whoosh and Rodney reached for his gear, which now contained a charged ZedPM.

“I still feel bad about taking their ZPM,” John said as they walked down to the ‘gate. “They’re gonna need it.”

“We need it more,” Rodney argued, pausing in front of the wormhole. “They better have dropped the shield.”

“You did send our DIDs through, right?” John asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Rodney snapped. He looked around one last time. “We should’ve left them a message,” He commented quietly.

John led Rodney to the ‘gate, hiding his smirk by keeping his face averted. “What makes you think we didn’t?” He asked, just as he pushed them through the event horizon and the world disappeared.

•••

“It worked.”

John looked around the crowded ‘gate room, seeing his people in the flesh for the first time in two months. “Yeah, Rodney, it worked,” He confirmed with a grin. “We’re back.”

“Yeah,” Rodney said, eyeing Colonel Caldwell and Dr. Weir as they quickly approached. “Think they’re happy to see us?”

“You saw!” Dr. Weir exclaimed as she reached the pair. John stepped behind Rodney, just in case she wanted to plant another hug on him like she had the last time he’d returned from certain death.

“Hard to miss,” John said, looking at the bright patches on everyone’s clothing. “Very effective.”

“So we can take these things off,” One Marine stated, already reaching for the bits of paper. Bright stars fluttered to the ground as everyone in the city heard their missing people were back. A few groaned, Dr. Zelenka shouted, and most of the rest of the city sighed in relief.

“You must explain how you did this,” Dr. Zelenka demanded, glaring at Rodney. “Your message was most uninformative.”

“There wasn’t anything you could do on your end,” Rodney argued as he was led away. “Sheppard, don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did.”

“Yes, Rodney,” John said, rolling his eyes. He gathered his and Rodney’s packs up before turning to Dr. Weir once again. “I’ll bet you want a full debriefing.”

Dr. Weir smiled sharply. “Of course I do, Colonel.”

John went to his quarters to deposit the packs before returning to Dr. Weir’s office. He really needed to get Rodney to attend the debriefing; he wasn’t suffering through it alone.

•••

“I told you they missed us,” Rodney crowed as he sprawled out on John’s bed. “Although I wouldn’t have minded if they’d missed us in smaller doses.”

John located a bottle of water and drained half its contents before replying. “You mean you don’t like twelve-hour marathon discussions of dimensional anomalies?”

“Not when I haven’t had processed food in two months,” Rodney shot back. “So...what kind of message did you leave?”

John sighed and took a seat in his desk chair. “What would you have left?”

“The usual; don’t wake up the Wraith, don’t fuck up, don’t try to fix poorly designed weapons systems even if you really want to,” Rodney said, opening a powerbar. He ate it with more relish than John thought the product deserved, but that was Rodney.

“Pretty much what I said,” John concurred, pleased that his efforts to hide the message from Rodney had worked.

“My stuff’s in here,” Rodney observed around a mouthful of powerbar, looking over at his overstuffed pack.

“Dropped it off before the debriefing,” John responded, reaching for his to put its contents away. “You left it in front of the ‘gate.”

Rodney stared at the pack for so long John started to get worried. The man was still looking at it, his expression forlorn, when John finished storing his belongings both old and new. The last thing he put away was the Yelph razor, tucked with its strop in his medicine cabinet.

“Rodney?” John said softly, sitting down next to him on the bed. “Are you awake?”

“Prison sex.”

John’s jaw dropped briefly. “Excuse me?”

Rodney’s mouth twisted. “I’ve got safety razors in my room, you know. The safe ones that won’t slit my throat.”

“You know,” John began, voice far calmer than it should have been, “I’m not going to ask why you’re thinking about transitory bisexuality and straight razors at the same time.”

“You aren’t?” Rodney inquired. “I’m also thinking about cousins and raspberries.”

“Nope,” John confirmed before turning and crawling over Rodney to push him into the mattress. Rodney hadn’t been expecting the move, but he didn’t protest it or the kiss that followed. Slow and deep, John kissed Rodney until they were both hard and panting.

“Okay,” Rodney gasped, fingers clamped down on John’s arms.

John dragged his cheek along Rodney’s. “I told you, this isn’t going to change,” He whispered against Rodney’s neck. “It doesn’t matter where we are, Rodney, I’m not going to get bored. Not ever.”

Rodney hummed contentedly as John licked his way back up to another kiss. “Mm, one question, though,” He said, shifting his legs apart to accommodate John’s hips.

“What?” John mumbled distractedly.

“Who the hell are Arnold Schechter and Greg Thompson?”

•••

Ten months later, in another dimension...

“I can’t believe it. We’re in Atlantis!”

John Sheppard glanced over at the nameless scientist who’d just spoken. It wasn’t that he wasn’t impressed—he was—but damn, the civilians were so perky about it, like children at their first carnival.

“Don’t touch that!” Dr. McKay’s voice rang out, making several people cringe. John sighed inwardly, hoping something in some part of the city he wasn’t in would catch McKay’s attention and hold it for a few years. Arrogant, annoying geniuses were almost enough encouragement to make him quit the military and become a professional beach bum.

A couple of years traipsing around with the SGC would do that to anyone; they certainly were well-stocked with mouthy, brilliant scientists.

“Dr. Weir?” An accented voice—Dr. Zelenka—called out. “There is something you should see.”

Dr. Weir, as well as Colonel Sumner, Major Sheppard, Dr. McKay and most of the others present gathered around Dr. Zelenka and the display. “What is that?” Colonel Sumner demanded, looking at a brightly lit screen that was projecting in English, not the Ancient they’d expected.

“I have no idea how it got there, but there is a message for us,” Dr. Zelenka replied. “It says it is urgent and should be opened before we do anything in the city.”

“Well, open it,” Dr. McKay demanded impatiently, reaching for the controls when Zelenka didn’t move fast enough for his liking. The screen darkened briefly before a familiar face appeared.

“Hi there.”

John looked over at Dr. Weir. “Why am I talking to us?” He asked, not able to hide how much the sight of himself in a message stored in a ten-thousand plus year old city was freaking him out.

“Shh,” Dr. McKay hissed.

“This is probably freaking you out a little—all of you, since if I’m right, Dr. Weir, Dr. McKay and Colonel Sumner are right there with you. If not...well, welcome to Atlantis.”

“A little?” John squeaked, immediately embarrassed that he’d made such a sound.

“But Stargate Command has encountered...dimensional anomalies before. Welcome to another one, guys.”

“That explains a lot,” Dr. McKay muttered. “Why did it have to be him?”

“McKay, my version of you was too busy to record this message, as you’ll learn shortly.”

Dr. McKay muttered something under his breath, but John was more interested in the slightly possessive tone in his other self’s voice. It wasn’t something anyone else in the room would’ve picked up on—they didn’t know him well enough yet. Why the hell would he lay claim to that annoying bastard?

“I’m gonna skip a lot of the gory details, mostly because I still only understand them after I’ve been drinking. In our dimension, the mission that brought you here arrived a while back. I’d guess how long before you, but I’m not sure when it is there. It was, however, a little over a year before this message was recorded.”

“Almost two years ago,” Dr. McKay supplied for those unable to do basic math.

“McKay’s been griping about altering timelines in other dimensions but I’ve read the files. This isn’t going to do anything catastrophic to you; if you’re really worried, though, just stop this message and delete it. It’s probably in your best interests to keep listening, though.”

Dr. McKay reached over and paused the recording. “Does anyone want to argue with this other Major Sheppard?”

“Colonel,” John pointed out.

“Excuse me?” Colonel Sumner said.

John shook his head. “No, that me. He’s a Colonel.” It warmed John, just a little, to think there was hope for him—somewhere, at least.

“Don’t get uppity,” Dr. McKay griped. “Can we keep going?”

Dr. Weir considered it for a moment. “I think we should; if he knows something important about this place, or this galaxy...”

Dr. McKay resumed the message.

“I’m glad you’re sticking with me on this. Ok, back to the short, short version of why you’re even seeing this message. In our dimension, we experienced a malfunction in Atlantis’s ‘gate and power system. To cut through all of McKay’s complicated scientific stuff, it formed a bridge between our dimension and yours. Our dimensions aren’t very far apart, dimensionally speaking, even though it took you all a lot longer to get here. That bridge was formed right when McKay and I were going through the ‘gate on a mission. Instead of arriving at our destination planet, we got thrown back into Atlantis—in your dimension.”

“That is highly improbable,” Dr. McKay commented. “They should’ve died.”

“We probably should’ve died—McKay’s said it often enough—but we didn’t. Once we got there, it took a while to figure out a way to get back—a couple of months, all told.”

“That long?” Dr. McKay said, mostly to himself.

“We tried to leave the city the way we found it, or at least in no worse shape. Anyway, that’s the story. Now for the good part.”

“Oh, the useful information,” Dr. McKay grumbled. “It’s about time.”

“Rodney,” Dr. Weir warned.

“First off, you’re underwater, if you haven’t noticed. Atlantis is designed to sink under the ocean. Right now, you’re probably ok, but don’t get comfortable. There isn’t enough power to keep life support running for very long and also maintain the city’s shields. If you did what I told you to do and didn’t turn anything on, you’ve got a couple of hours before you have to raise the city to the surface.”

“Fuck,” Someone said.

“Sit tight, though, because it gets better. That means right now, you don’t have enough power to ‘gate back to Earth at the moment. Yeah, you’re stuck here.”

“Tell us that after we shut down the ‘gate, why don’t you?” A Marine muttered next to John. He shrugged helplessly.

“Someone’s probably saying rather nasty things about me for not warning you about that ahead of time, but you’ll thank me later. If you left Atlantis now for Earth, you’d miss out on some pretty important stuff. Anyway, what you’d find out soon enough on your own is why the Ancients left Atlantis.”

“He’s going to ruin the surprise, isn’t he?” A linguist complained. “Do you do this a lot?” He asked John.

John shrugged and remained focused on the screen. If his other self had taken the time to record this message, its contents had to be important.

“Since you’ll find most of this information in the city’s databases, I’ll skip to what’s *not* there. They ran into a species in this galaxy they couldn’t defeat. They’re called the Wraith and they’re nothing like what you’ve seen before. From what I’ve been told, they make the Go’auld look like pussycats.”

“Fuck,” Echoed through the room once again.

“Why I’m telling you this is so that you can avoid making the mistakes we made, provided that’s possible given however this interdimensional tampering works. Not long after we got to Atlantis, we realized we needed power. On our very first promising mission in this galaxy, we ran right into the Wraith. They were culling a planet called Athos. I’d explain culling, but it’s in the database and it’s pretty grim. Due to what happened in that meeting, I woke up every Wraith in the galaxy.”

“All by yourself?” Dr. McKay asked the image.

“See, the Wraith had been in hibernation for millennia, and weren’t supposed to wake up for another fifty years. When Colonel Sumner met up with one of the Wraith caretakers—this Wraith that made sure nothing happened to all the hibernating Wraith—they found out about Atlantis and about Earth. When I killed their caretaker, the Wraith woke up.”

“Oops,” John said to himself.

“The Wraith decided that Earth, and the Milky Way galaxy, were prime feeding grounds, since the humans there were so plentiful. They immediately started trying to find Atlantis, so they could get the technology and then head for Earth.”

“Oh shit,” Dr. McKay whispered.

“Ever since, we’ve been trying to keep Atlantis out of their hands, so that they don’t have any more technology at their disposal and so that they can’t reach Earth. It’s been very messy, to say the least. I’m trying to warn you so you won’t do what I did—wake up the Wraith. You’ll want to fight them, and you should—they’re literally feeding off the humans in this galaxy and have been for thousands of years. But if you wake them up now, before you have a way to really fight them, you’ll be digging yourself the same hole we’ve got.”

“Thoughtful of you,” Colonel Sumner told John, sarcasm tinting his voice.

“I’ll come back to the Wraith in a minute. Next item is for Dr. Weir. Elizabeth, this is gonna sound weird, but there’s another version of you in the city.”

At that announcement, pretty much everyone did a double take of both Elizabeth and the Sheppard on screen.

“In yet another dimensional incident over here, everyone on the mission died but Elizabeth somehow got sent back in time, to before the Ancients’ departure. She remained on Atlantis in order to keep it functional until your mission arrived. She’s been in stasis off and on for ten thousand years. Elizabeth, she’s in a stasis chamber in the city and I’ve made sure to mark it. You, or that you, are the single bravest person I’ve ever met. If you get a chance, let her know, ok? There’s a letter for you at the stasis chamber.”

“Waxing sentimental, are we?” Dr. McKay said snidely.

“Rodney,” Elizabeth snapped, visibly shaken at the idea of another version of herself being in the city.

“When she does come out of stasis again, she won’t live very long. Waking up every century for ten thousand years takes a lot out of a person. We couldn’t do anything for our Elizabeth; maybe you can since you’ll know ahead of time.” The John on the screen looked somewhat sad, but no one said a word. “She might have coordinates to locations in the Pegasus galaxy that might a ZPM.”

“Oh my,” Dr. McKay said excitedly.

“We know those coordinates, and what I’m about to say is going to piss you all off. A lot. McKay and I took the ZPM in your dimension.”

Most of the city turned to John. “You what!?!?” Rodney shouted. John held up his hands in self-defense.

“It wasn’t me,” He said quickly.

“We had good reasons. For one, if we hadn’t, you’d have been greeted by us, still living in your city. The procedure to get us back to our Atlantis and sever the bridge between our dimensions required a lot of power, power we couldn’t generate any other way. We took the ZPM with us, though, because back in our dimension, things are getting worse. A lot worse and to be honest, McKay, you were the one who insisted on taking the ZPM, so don’t berate me in this dimension for something you know you’d have done yourself.”

This time it was Dr. McKay who got stared at.

“Besides, you probably wouldn’t have been able to get the ZPM yourselves anyway. We could only retrieve it because we failed miserably the first time. That won’t make you feel any better, but eventually you’ll find something better out there.”

“He’s right, it doesn’t make me feel any better,” Dr. Kavanagh muttered darkly.

“That planet, Athos, I mentioned? They make excellent allies and it would be to your benefit to get to know them. Since you arrived a lot later than we did, their planet has already been culled so I don’t know how many people are left—if any. If there are some left, go to them. You need people to help you navigate the galaxy and Pegasus is not the Milky Way.”

“Since I’ve already given you way more information than you started with, I’ll go ahead and tell you a few other places to avoid. That information is in the text portion of this file and unless this dimension is more different than ours than we know, it’s accurate. Oh, and there’s an outline of how McKay figured out how to send compressed messages back to Earth without using too much power. It’s a handy thing to be able to do, so try it out.”

“Small consolation for the ZPM,” Someone murmured.

“At least the Daedalus has the ZPM SG-1 retrieved,” Another voice pointed out. “And they’re scheduled to come here if we can contact Earth.”

“Also in that file is a list of things about the city you should know before you start exploring it. This place has been sitting around for ten thousand years and it’s in pretty good shape—but it’s not perfect. There are deadly biological weapons and nasty entities stored here, things that killed good people in our dimension. If you’re careful, you’ll avoid that kind of thing over there.”

“Well,” Dr. Weir said, eyes wide.

“Um... a couple of little things to wrap this message up. Elizabeth, no matter what anyone says, this is a civilian operation. Over here you never let that change and it saved our asses more than once.”

Colonel Sumner huffed and glared at his least favorite Major.

“McKay, this place is going to kick your ass—more times than anyone will care to count. Sleep more, drink less coffee and for god’s sake no one is going to feed you lemons. All things citrus got left of the manifest for a reason.”

Several titters echoed throughout the room.

“And John, or me, whatever I’m supposed to call you... Arnold Schechter is really Greg Thompson. Trust me.”

With that, the message ended. In its place flashed up links to a series of text files.

“Arnold Schechter?” Dr. McKay echoed. “What the hell were you talking about?”

John was still staring at where his other self had been speaking, wondering if he’d gone insane in every other dimension or just that one. There was no way Dr. Rodney McKay was the love of his life. No way in hell. “It’s a joke,” He said after a minute. No one looked convinced. “To remind me not to mess up too often.”

And it was, in a way. Even if it was insane and wrong and utterly wrongheaded.

“Which file should we open first?” Dr. Zelenka asked. “The city one?”

“I’d say so,” Dr. Weir said and they gathered around the display again as John’s notes on the city appeared.

“Puddlejumpers?”