Rodney glared at John from over the top of his computer. "Yes, Major, I'm busy."

"Got a minute?" John continued, by this point perched on Rodney's desk.

"If I say no, will you go away?"

"Probably not," Came the reply. John grinned unrepentantly. "But it won't take long and I promise it won't hurt."

"You've never worked in retail, have you?" Rodney groused as he followed John out of his lab. "That was one of the worst sales pitches I've ever heard." They were walking towards the infirmary, which meant John had either talked Carson into this bit of foolishness, or was about to try and wanted Rodney to help.

Right.

When they got to the infirmary, the door opened and Lieutenant Ford rushed out, nearly knocking them over. Rodney shifted forms in his haste to get out of the way and ended up sliding wetly along the wall, flowing into the infirmary to retake his human form just inside.

"Oh God," Ford said, staring at his hand, which he'd accidentally flung through Rodney's body. "That was..."

John watched as Ford's eyes tried to roll back in his head. He thought about reaching out to jar the man, but figured it was better to just stay away. "Don't you have something you're supposed to be doing with Teyla?" John said sharply, catching Ford's attention.

"Um, yeah," The young man murmured, still staring at his hand. "That felt really..."

At that moment, Carson poked his head out the door. "Lieutenant, did you change your mind about that diagnostic? I'd be happy to run it if you'd like."

"No, no, I've got to meet with some Athosians now," Ford replied, already jogging down the hall. John, Carson and Rodney watched in amusement as the Lieutenant ran headlong into a wall as the corridor turned.

"What was that all about?" Rodney inquired after the three of them had retreated to Carson's office. "I didn't mean to scare him; I just reacted." He hadn't liked having Ford's hand inside him any more than the man had liked it being there himself.

Cason shrugged. "He was complaining about a pain in his gut. I offered to run some diagnostic tests but when he realized what they entailed, he decided to wait it out a day or two."

John laughed briefly before turning serious. "Do I need to order him in?"

"No," Carson replied. "It's nothing acute; in fact it's probably constipation. If it doesn't get better by tomorrow, I'll order him here myself."

"Good," John murmured. "Are you busy?"

Carson glanced at Rodney, who merely quirked an eyebrow. "You tell me." From the looks of things, John was up to something. He had the barest hint of mischief peeking out from behind an air of calm severity. It didn't help that Rodney's own expression was vacillating between boredom and curiosity.

John grinned, confirming Carson's suspicion. "You are now. I noticed the two of you haven't been practicing," He stated as he led them out of the office and through the infirmary.

"I just shifted, in self defense," Rodney protested. "And I know for a fact that Carson's been working on it too."

"That's easy stuff," John replied as they walked. "We aced that form before we got out of quarantine. You two aren't trying out new things."

"You mean the other form?" Carson queried. "I started on that one as well, you know."

"No," John murmured, "You two aren't shapeshifting into other things. It's our primary means of self-defense, and you're ignoring it."

"I take it that's how you've been spending your free time?" Rodney remarked. "We've been busy with work."

John suppressed a snarl. "This is work too, you know."

"What about our current projects?" Carson asked. "We were working."

"I cleared it with Dr. Weir," John assured them. "I'm not the only one who's noticed that the two of you have been slacking off."

"It's been three weeks," Rodney reminded him. "Not particularly long, considering the circumstances. And why are we at your quarters?"

John ushered them into his room. "Because they're quiet, away from most of the city, and my balcony faces out," He said. "Now, get rid of your gear."

Carson muttered something in Gaelic but did as he was asked, making a small pile of his radio and the contents of his pockets on a side table. Rodney frowned mightily but did the same, while John removed his radio and various weapons.

"Well, sensei, what's next?" Rodney snapped impatiently.

John walked out to the balcony, leaving the door open behind him. "Let's see how good your memories are," He called out over his shoulder. Rodney and Carson started towards the open area when John shifted, flowing from his human form into liquid and then to dust before sifting down to the floor of the balcony. He stirred, swirling as though kicked by wind and then solidified into the shape of a large raptor.

"Okay, I'm impressed," Rodney declared once the show was over. "How did you get your mass to...nevermind. And no, I'm not surprised you picked a bird, John. After all, you do have a thing for flying."

John hissed at Rodney and walk-flew closer to the man, lunging for his ankles. "I think he wants us to shift," Carson told Rodney even as he backed away from John. His voice caught John's attention and the bird flapped over to where he was, pushing Carson into a corner of the balcony.

"I'm not terribly familiar with birds," Rodney admitted to Carson, who was pondering how upset John would be if he shifted, returned to the main room of John's quarters, and ran away. "I was always more of a cat person."

John was getting more aggressive and got up on the balcony railing. His wings fluttered against one of Carson's hands and the doctor felt through the contact John's frustration and encouragement. Sensing John's emotions brought back memories, recollections of a history he'd observed but never lived. He let those memories come to the fore and combine with his own past until he had enough of a blueprint to work from.

Rodney was about to walk back inside, since John was busy pestering Carson, when the two of them went tumbling to the floor of the balcony. John hopped out of the way as Carson shifted, flowing thickly down and around until a solid form finally emerged.

"Oh," Rodney murmured, staring at a big, green and orange crane that had never existed on Earth. He'd seen one before, though, in a vision about the Inoheiaka. "You could've just told us to do that, John," He chided as Carson gingerly tried out his long legs. John hissed at Rodney, while Carson honked plaintively. "But can you fly like that?" Rodney inquired lightly, smirking at Carson's gaudy feathers. "Nice crest, by the way."

Carson stalked over to Rodney and began to peck at his thigh. If he was going to look like a psychedelic shorebird, he wasn't going to do it alone. John also approached Rodney and when the physicist waved them off and flowed to the balcony floor, Carson figured it was because John was intimidating as a falcon and not because of Carson's own change.

Rodney let himself pool on the floor and went through his memories. He wasn't too sure about this idea; there were so many gaps between his dim recollections and the information needed to form himself into something capable of flight. Why couldn't John have started out with something easy, like an office chair?

He was still thinking about the situation when a familiar presence fluttered against his outer membrane. Carson was, if Rodney wasn't mistaken, wading in him, odd little feet puttering about in his body and narrow beak dabbling here and there. It felt very, very strange but also reassuring since it was Carson and right now Carson was amused and nervous and a little embarrassed.

Rodney flowed away from Carson and decided to give it a shot. He let his thoughts take charge and bring his body back into form, his mind fascinated by the way he felt like a unified whole one second and then had limbs and muscles the next.

John barked happily when Rodney finally found a form he could shift into. The fact that it strongly resembled an Arctic goose was, John knew, proof of McKay's strange but appropriate sense of humor. He let Rodney get a feel for the new form before jumping back on the balcony rail and calling out.

Carson looked askance at the railing, then down at his feet. He gave a mental shrug and tried hopping up, managing to find his footing with only a little bit of struggle. Once up he craned over to find Rodney making a similar attempt. Rodney fell to the balcony floor once before trying again, this time making it up with barely a wobble.

John dipped his head in acknowledgement and began to sidestep over to the short edge of the balcony that faced another balcony to the side. Once there, he checked to make sure Carson and Rodney were watching. Using slow, exaggerated movements, John launched himself and glided over to the next balcony, landing and turning to look back at the others.

It only took a second to realize that Carson was having second thoughts. He was tall and gangly compared to John, flapping his wings pitifully as he peered down at the ocean below. John barked and hissed a couple of times but Carson refused to budge, so John prepared to return.

Then Rodney stuck his beak into Carson's side, right in the tender area between wing and body. Carson squawked indignantly and took to the air, launching himself right over John and onto the floor of the next balcony over.

Back on John's balcony, Rodney honked merrily while inching closer to the corner John used as a takeoff point. Carson was glaring at Rodney's rotund little form and John wondered if Rodney knew what was waiting for him when he landed.

Rodney was about to make an attempt at flight when he saw Carson's expression. Even as a bird, Carson looked very unhappy, alternately staring daggers at him and smoothing the feathers behind one wing. Rodney revised his plans and took a few steps backwards. Once he had a bit of space, Rodney ran forward and jumped off the balcony, sailing over both John and Carson to land on the floor next to the far balcony's railing.

John hopped down and walk-flew between Carson and Rodney, who were squawking and honking loudly. It took him a minute to get their attention, which he finally drew back to matters at hand by slapping them on their heads with his strong wings. He hoped that by now they'd realized that while they were still thinking like humans, their bodies were functioning like sekoy'e. They didn't have to know exactly how to fly; once airborne instinct took over and they weren't going to simply plummet downwards.

Carson finally calmed down and looked at John, waiting for the next part of their lesson. Flying, even the short distance he'd gone, had been a lot less frightening than he'd expected and Carson wanted to try more, which was probably what John wanted them to do. He had to admit that being in this form was rather pleasant; Atlantis looked different through these eyes. When John hopped back up on the railing, Carson followed, this time looking around without fear.

Rodney lumbered up onto the railing as well, wishing he was something a little less awkward to operate. The webbed feet were also getting to him; he just didn't like the way they felt on the railing. It wasn't as though he had much to work with, however; his knowledge of flying things was rather limited. He knew geese and sparrows, but those birds were so small and even though Rodney knew he wasn't actually losing mass by shifting into a smaller form, the very idea bothered him. Until he understood they process by which he could make himself so large or small without permanently changing the volume of his body, he was uncomfortable doing so.

That and the fact that Rodney wasn't overly fond of his damned webbed feet.

John took off from the balcony without warning, gliding out a few yards before circling around and rising higher. He looked down in time to see Carson follow him, long legs trailing behind as he flapped his wings awkwardly. After a few attempts, Carson caught on and soared up, overtaking John to circle around the tower and come up on John's right.

Rodney muttered a few expletives that sounded like garbled grunting in his avian form and launched himself into the air. Geese weren't built for such a takeoff, so he tumbled and faltered momentarily before righting himself and sailing around the tower below Carson and John. He felt heavy and slow; Rodney had always imagined flying to be graceful and effortless and as such this was a bit of a disappointment. Whenever he'd looked up at eagles, vultures, cardinals and ravens they'd seemed so free, just floating in mid-air.

He'd especially appreciated the ravens, with their glossy black wings and sharp eyes. Rodney was focused so intently on those memories that he didn't realize he was shifting until he suddenly shot up in the air as a result of his abrupt change in weight and wingspan.

Carson glanced around to find Rodney, locating him just in time to see the man's pale form twist and shimmer into blackness. He tucked and dove, not consciously aware of the mechanics of the maneuver, pulling up not far from Rodney, who now looked a lot less cuddly than he did before.

John also joined them, having seen Rodney change mid-flight. He knew that they had the ability, but so far John hadn't had the balls to try it. Now that Rodney had shown them it could be done without flying into something, John tested out the idea in a subtle fashion, making himself larger and darker.

Rodney saw John fly up in front of him and snorted at the man's attempt to stay bigger and badder than everyone else. Off to one side, Carson too was experimenting with in-flight changes and now resembled some bastard cross between a swallow and the feathered, flying lizards they'd seen during one of their visions. At least he wasn't orange and green anymore.

Flying in circles around the tower, while good practice, wasn't exactly thrilling so John led them through the city. He'd done this a few times, always at night, and found it to be useful not only for testing out his abilities but for reconnaissance. There were aspects of the city that human eyes just didn't see, no matter what angle they used.

Sergeant Stackhouse leaned over the balcony railing, ignoring the cacophony of the mess hall behind him. He needed to talk to Major Sheppard; Sergeant Bates had once again moved people around on the duty roster and now they didn't have anyone patrolling two of the Athosians' greenhouses.

A loud, screeching sound above him caught Stackhouse's attention and he reached for his P90, twisting around to stare up at the bright blue sky. He found three large birds flying in tight formation above the city, spiraling around the towers. His P90 slid down to his side as Stackhouse cued his radio. "Lieutenant Ford?"

"This better be important, Stackhouse," Ford grumbled as he swallowed a large bite of salad, wincing as tangy dressing made contact with his split lip.

"Are there any birds on Atlantis?" Stackhouse asked, keeping his eyes on the three black birds that were now dive-bombing each other above the ocean. They stayed well away from the shield, he noticed absently.

Ford thought for a moment. "No, not since the shield went up. They can't get in. Why?"

"I think you should come out here and take a look," Stackhouse replied. "I'm on the balcony outside the mess hall."

"I'll be right back," Ford murmured to Teyla, pushing back from the table to go find Stackhouse. He wasn't hard to locate, since he was the only person on the balcony who was looking out into the sky through the scope on his weapon.

"Three of them," Stackhouse told Ford. "They've been flying over the city, not sure for how long, though."

Ford caught sight of the birds, which he'd never seen before. He tapped his radio. "Dr. Weir?"

Dr. Weir was in the middle of dressing down two of her best engineers for sloppy work when Lieutenant Ford called for her. She dismissed the men and sat back down at her desk. "Yes?"

"Do you have any idea why there are three big, black birds flying around the city?" Ford asked. "One looks like a huge falcon, one is the biggest raven I've ever seen, and the other... well, I'm not sure what it is, but it's pretty damned big too."

Elizabeth blinked. Birds? There were birds around Atlantis? "When did they appear?" She inquired. "And where are you?"

"Balcony outside the mess hall," Ford informed her. "We're not sure how long they've been here, but they were first spotted a few minutes ago."

"Stay there," She said, hurrying across her office and into the hall. If birds had gotten into the city, then the shield had been compromised. "Dr. Umbert, I need you to come to the mess hall balcony and identify some native fauna," She said into her radio. The biologist had made a brief study of local animals, prior to the Wraith's arrival in the system. Perhaps these birds had been nesting in the city and they'd simply overlooked them until now.

"Dr. McKay." Dr. Weir waited for Rodney to respond, but he never did. She tried again, and then remembered that John had asked to abscond with both Rodney and Carson for some training exercises. They must have taken off their radios.

Dr. Umbert met Dr. Weir outside the mess hall and they both went quickly to meet Lieutenant Ford. By that point most of the mess hall had gathered out on the balcony. The birds, however, were nowhere in sight.

"Where are they?" She asked Ford, who was staring at something in his hands.

"They flew around the tower; I've sent out troops to track them," Ford told her. "Here, we got pictures."

Dr. Umbert took the proffered digital camera and studied the images on the preview screen. "These aren't any native species I've ever seen," She announced quickly. "And this one doesn't look like a bird at all."

"Ford, get Dr. Zelenka and start a city-wide scan. If the shield isn't working, Wraith might have gotten in," Dr. Weir ordered. "Dr. Umbert, keep track of the birds' locations; maybe they've been nesting in one of the unused towers."

Ford was about to leave to find Dr. Zelenka when the three birds reappeared. "Up there!" One of the Marines shouted, pointing outwards. Sure enough, three large, dark birds circled in the sky and aimed straight for the balcony.

Dr. Weir watched, fascinated, as the birds swooped and dove above them, almost dancing with each other. They were a noisy group, cawing and croaking as though in heated conversation.

Or argument, she mused. Then it hit her; John had asked for Rodney and Carson so they could practice shapeshifting. "Ford, wait a minute," She said, gesturing for him to stay. Then she turned towards the railing and looked up at the circling birds. "Major Sheppard!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.

John was about to turn around and head for his balcony when he heard his name. He looked down to see Dr. Weir staring back up at him, along with several dozen other people. It occurred to him then that he and the others were flying around the mess hall--not the most discrete of locations.

He squawked at Rodney and Carson before flying down to the balcony where Dr. Weir was standing. Everyone backed away when he landed, but they almost immediately returned once he was steady.

"John?" Dr. Weir murmured, studying him carefully. John ducked his head and hissed briefly in reply.

"That's Major Sheppard?" Lieutenant Ford exclaimed. "You're kidding, right?"

John screamed at Ford, causing most of the nearby people to cringe at the piercing sound. Rodney and Carson landed next to him, Carson's fluttering tailfeathers draping elegantly along the balcony railing.

"Wow," Dr. Umbert whispered, peering at the not-a-bird. "Who is that one?" She asked, pointing at it. "And who's the oversized raven?"

Rodney jumped from the railing to the balcony floor, shifting in mid-air so that he landed on his feet. "At least you didn't say 'crow'," He muttered at Dr. Umbert. "And I wasn't all that much larger than a typical Northern Raven."

"About double," She replied absently, still staring at what had to be Carson. "What is he?"

Before Rodney could explain, Carson shifted and slid off the balcony. "Nothing in particular," He told the biologist. "A little like one of the animals that lived around the sekoy'e."

John went ahead and shifted as well, now that the others were back in human form. "It's good practice," He explained to Dr. Weir. "I forgot we were above the mess hall."

Despite the fact that they'd all changed back, the crowd hadn't dissipated at all. Most of them were still staring at the three men, which annoyed Rodney until he remembered that most people hadn't seen them change forms before. "The show's over," He snapped, jarring a few people close to him. "Feel free to go about your previous activities."

Lieutenant Ford stared at Rodney. "You just flew around the city as a big black bird, McKay. I think we get to stand around and gawk for a little while longer."

Dr. Weir sighed and wondered what she'd been thinking when she asked to lead this mission. It was a question she posed to herself frequently, particularly after interacting with the three men in front of her. Their antics were distracting, as evidenced by the people standing out on the balcony, but she wasn't about to tell them to stop. Atlantis's population needed to grow accustomed to seeing them in different forms, or they wouldn't get used to the idea of some of the city's leaders being a new species.

"You made very nice birds," Teyla remarked as she moved to the front of the crowd. "Are those the only kinds into which you can change?"

John shrugged. "I don't think there's really a limit, so long as we know what we're turning into," He replied.

"So you could be, say, a pigeon?" Ford asked him. "Or a parakeet?"

"I am not turning into a budgie," Carson told the Lieutenant. "Or any other small, colorful bird."

Stackhouse was the first to laugh, even as he reached into his vest for a power bar. "Polly wanna cracker?" He wheezed, breaking off a bit of the bar and tossing it at Carson. The doctor batted it away, glaring at the Marine.

"You do realize who you're picking on, right?" Rodney inquired of Stackhouse. "He can make your life very uncomfortable."

"Flamingoes!" Ford exclaimed loudly. "You could be flamingoes!"

John looked at his second-in-command as though the young man had lost his mind. "And what possible purpose would be served by us changing into flamingoes?" He asked Ford.

Ford's expression was just a little too innocent for Rodney's tastes. "Décor?"

The gathered crowd laughed as John, Rodney and Carson took exception to the idea of becoming pink plastic yard flamingoes. "I'm going back to work," Rodney told John, "Nowhere in my job description is 'comic relief' mentioned."

"Agreed," Carson murmured, pushing his way through to the mess hall.

John joined them as the crowd dispersed, the show obviously over. "Next time, we'll stay away from popular areas."

Rodney waved off John's half-apology. "They'll get used to it."

The walk to Rodney's lab was brief. "Are we still on for supper?" Rodney asked Carson before returning to work.

Carson nodded in the affirmative. John was already turned around and heading for the training rooms when Carson's voice stopped him. "You'll be there as well, Major?"

"Where?" John queried, not sure what Carson was talking about. Supper was where it always was--the mess hall.

"My quarters," Carson explained. "Nineteen hundred hours, bring your own food. After today's little display, the mess hall might not be particularly relaxing, hmm?"

John thought about it for a moment, then grinned. "You've got a point. Thanks," He said, resuming his journey.

Rodney glanced speculatively at Carson. "Are you planning something?"

"Me?" Carson said innocently, "What gave you that idea?"

"McKay?" Rodney growled at the sound of Kavanagh's voice emanating from within the lab. He smiled faintly at Carson and went inside, hoping Kavanagh was making random vocalizations and hadn't broken anything.

Carson walked slowly to his own office, thinking about how surprised John had been at the invitation to supper. Surely by now the man had realized neither he nor Rodney held any ill will against him. Or perhaps John was simply made uncomfortable by the gesture, although Carson seriously doubted it. They'd been in each others' company often enough of late; then again, the majority of that time had been focused on some type of work and not leisure. Carson wondered if that was it--he and Rodney now spent so much of their free time together that John was shocked they would include him.

Once Carson got to his office, he set aside his silent study of their odd dynamic and focused himself on his current projects.

•••

An hour later, Carson was ready to pull his hair out one strand at a time. In front of him sat a series of reports on the tests he'd run on his, John's and Rodney's DNA prior to and after their ill-fated expedition. Just like the last four times he'd run the tests, the results were meaningless. He was getting nothing, nothing at all.

He knew they had genetic material; it was the first thing he'd looked for after locating something that resembled cells. Those weren't all that easy to find, chiefly because most of their makeup wasn't precisely cellular in nature. They had a core substance that contained vaguely familiar bits and pieces--like nuclei. It was all jumbled up, however. He couldn't even locate anything that approximated mitochondria. The stuff he was testing as DNA wasn't DNA at all, but its location and prevalence seemed to indicate it was genetic material.

Carson simply couldn't identify what kind it was. He'd tested for DNA and RNA, both single and double stranded, to no avail. This last test had been a bit of a desperation move; he'd compared their genetic material to that of the Wraith. Wraith DNA wasn't entirely unlike human DNA, but the differences that existed explained the Wraith's unusual regenerative ability. Their DNA was shielded from teratogens in a manner far more effective than human DNA. In addition, the mechanisms for DNA replication were more precise. He strongly suspected they had picked up some unique intracellular characteristics of that bug they'd gotten off Major Sheppard, too. He'd been unable to locate any centromeres or telomeres in Wraith cells.

At least the Wraith had cells. Sekoy'e, it appeared, did not, at least not in a way he recognized. He had some biochemists working on figuring out exactly what they were built of, but it was a difficult assignment as they had nothing to work from. Carson thought maybe he knew what those few pioneering scientists felt like when they were running their X-ray chromatography, not sure what they were going to find and then not entirely sure they knew what they'd found when they got done. Now, nearly a century later, he was in the same boat.

Rodney didn't understand his intense desire to figure out what they were. Oh, he was curious, but Rodney was curious about a great many things. Those scientific subjects falling under the broad umbrella of life sciences weren't something that piqued Rodney's curiosity, however. Carson would've liked to have shared his frustration, but Rodney wouldn't have understood, beyond his usual nonspecific empathy for any fellow scientist stuck on a difficult problem. Carson had to know, though. When he was human, he knew everything there was to know about himself, at least from a medical perspective. While Carson didn't profess to comprehend the root of human nature, he certainly understood the biological aspects of human functioning. Now that he was sekoy'e, Carson wanted to possess that same knowledge again. What was he, and how did he work?

After staring at his reports for another half an hour, it occurred to Carson that maybe he was starting in the wrong place. With that in mind, he left his office to find a biochemist, an idea circling madly in his mind.

Unfortunately none of the biochemists were around, all of them having decided to study a piece of ancient machinery Rodney was working on. Carson ran the tests himself, all the while cursing and grumbling at his own foolishness for not thinking of this sooner. He wished Rodney had located some sort of Ancient device that could image molecules as they were, and not as idealized models. That way if he was right, he could see what this genetic material actually looked like.

If he was wrong, at least there wouldn’t be any witnesses to his idiocy.

•••

"Thank you for coming," Dr. Weir said as Rodney and John walked into her office. They'd both been busy at their respective jobs when she'd called them, requesting a brief meeting.

"Is this about earlier?" Rodney asked as he took a seat. "Because if it is..."

Dr. Weir shook her head. "No, although you may want to exercise a little more discretion in the future. Actually, I wanted to discuss the team."

"The team?" John echoed, immediately concerned. There had been no formal talk of resuming missions, as the city was for the moment holding it's own in terms of food and power. He'd been grateful for the reprieve, since John wasn't sure if his team would remain intact after what had happened on B7R-901.

"Yes," She confirmed. "We're developing a bad habit of shutting down all of our missions whenever something goes wrong. While that's an acceptable reaction to catastrophes, we're hurting ourselves when we stop altogether this frequently."

"So you want us to go back on missions?" Rodney asked hopefully. He'd thought she'd permanently ground all three of them, considering their new medical condition, as she formally described it.

"Yes," Dr. Weir replied. "Next week, in fact. Teyla wants to resume trade negotiations that she'd started before our last incident."

"Ah," John hummed. "So what about B7R-901? We've got unfinished business there."

"We do?" Dr. Weir asked curiously. "I was unaware of this. Explain."

Rodney glanced at John before speaking. "We still don't know everything about that temple, but now the three of us can at least read what's written on the walls. When you consider how much we don't know about what's been done to our bodies, it's imperative that we find out what was left at the temple."

Dr. Weir looked distinctly unimpressed. "I don't see it that way at all. B7R-901 is a dangerous world, one the Ancients saw fit to keep restricted. What occurred there annihilated the local population, killed several of our own people and did permanent damage to the three of you. There is no way you're going back."

"The temple's not going to do anything else," John argued. "It's dead, so to speak. After it changed us, it ran out of juice."

"How do you know for sure?" She countered. "I'm not risking the team on such a mission. B7R-901 is off-limits until further notice." With that, Dr. Weir focused on her computer, ignoring the two men in her office.

It was obvious that the meeting was over so John and Rodney left, both fuming. "So we're supposed to go on missions, but not to that one little place that turned us into fucking blobs?" Rodney spat as he walked down the hall. "It's the only place that could tell us what we are!"

John shrugged helplessly. "You're preaching to the choir, McKay. I want to go back just as bad as you do." It made John seethe to think about how Dr. Weir had summarily dismissed their need to return to the planet. Her concerns weren't without merit, but at the same time they were somewhat exaggerated.

"She does it on purpose, doesn't she?" Rodney asked harshly. "How she can stomach calling herself a doctor, I'll never know. Damned politician. It's not like anyone's going to run against her; we're not living in a democracy here."

"Yeah, well right now our benevolent dictator has deemed the three of us friendly people, so she can't be all bad," John reminded Rodney. "Do you really think everybody here would be as laid-back about us if she hadn't done that?"

"Do you really think I give one hot damn what they think of me?" Rodney shot back angrily. "Unless it comes to pitchforks and torches, that is."

The image of Stackhouse carrying a pitchfork flashed in John's mind and he snickered. "It would still make your life difficult and you know it. But yeah, this sucks."

Rodney nodded tiredly. "How much would you bet she tells us not to shift when we're off-world?"

"She might, but it's not gonna happen," John replied firmly. "I won't go off-world with rules that keep me from doing my job."

They finally reached Rodney's lab, for the second time that day. "As often as you're here, John, you should just claim a desk and try to get something done."

John grinned ruefully. "You really want a bunch of Marines filing through your lab, bitching about third watch?"

"Nevermind."