What had begun as a relatively simple analysis of the amount of power stored in the system quickly morphed into a complex rerouting of practically every energy-dependent system they used. It had started when Rodney and Kavanagh realized that they'd made a minor mistake when they'd installed the matrix generators at the ZPM locations. They'd done so on the assumption that the ZPM sites were located at the most efficient points in the city--not an unreasonable assumption based on the technological acumen of the city's architects. However, those locations were designed specifically for the use of ZPMs, apparently as a temporary power source. They had never really accessed the city's main power grid, because until recently they had no idea there was such a thing, at least not in the form it seemed to take.

Rodney had managed to overcome his internally directed anger at not seeing the system before and had focused the group on rerouting the power they had. The matrix generators were linked to the central system, which left more of their output free. He had them route that excess into the storage system, even as Kavanagh and Zelenka were trying to figure out how much power was in the system and what capacity it had.

"Are you eating? Where's the food?" Rodney asked when he saw Zelenka slurping up an MRE. "I didn't get any--

An MRE appeared in front of Rodney and he accepted it gratefully, tearing into the thing with gusto. "Why is his warm, and why did he get spoon?" Zelenka asked the young woman who had procured their meals. "Mine was cold."

The girl shrugged. "I only had time to prepare one of them, and you're nicer than he is."

"That makes no sense," Zelenka muttered, finishing off his supper.

"It does when you consider just how vicious McKay can be," Kavanagh countered. "I'd take a cold MRE to avoid having him on a rampage."

"Speak for yourself," Zelenka said, frowning. "Czechs, we are made of stronger stuff. McKay does not frighten me."

"I should," Rodney said between bites. "Because you're not sleeping tonight, Zelenka. Nobody is, not until we finish this."

The lab echoed with the collective groan of Rodney's staff, even as they went back to work.

Rodney decided about an hour before dawn that they'd done all they could for the time being. Their power was rerouted and stabilized and they'd designed some improvements to the matrix generators that would improve their output. Three of the generators had gone through the process, with the others lined up for work the next day. They even knew how much power they had in reserve.

With all that done, he let everyone go, with explicit instructions to perform their typical daily ablutions and rest. He himself was going to grab a shower, change clothes and find Dr. Weir. Well, after a brief nap. They did have a scheduled meeting in the morning.

Of course, Rodney hadn't counted on his staff not being the first people to enjoy the return of Atlantis's air conditioning and hot water supply. "McKay!" Ford called out as Rodney neared his quarters. "We've got a problem."

Rodney opened the door to his quarters and stepped inside. "We do?"

"Yeah," Ford said, breathless. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Look, the environmental systems are online, and there's hot water in our quarters."

Rodney blinked. "And that qualifies as a problem?" He said incredulously. "Given the way you've complained about the lack of amenities over the past few weeks, I'd have thought you would be grateful that we turned those systems back on."

Ford's mouth opened and closed a few times, his expression one of befuddlement. "But I thought we didn't have the power to run them..."

Rodney yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. "We didn't, but now we do. Enjoy it, ok? We'll talk about it in the morning with Weir. Now go away. I stink, I'm tired and you're annoying me."

Ford was still standing outside the door when Rodney thought it shut and locked.

As it turned out, pretty much everyone in Atlantis had figured out about the water and air systems by the time Rodney arrived at the scheduled meeting with Dr. Weir. He'd been stopped three times by various military and civilian personnel and had been offered chocolate--or sex, he wasn't sure which--once by an unusually grateful linguist.

"Rodney, do come in," Dr. Weir said as he joined the group. "We were just discussing the unannounced, although certainly welcome, return of some formerly restricted comforts."

"The lights are back on, too," Rodney replied as he slid into his chair. The few hours of sleep he'd gotten hadn't been enough to make him actually personable--then again, no amount of sleep managed to do that. He'd only shown up for this meeting because what he had to say was far more important than the fact that they could take warm showers again.

"We noticed," Major Sheppard murmured. "Nice touch, doing all that while the rest of us were asleep."

"It kept you out of my lab," Rodney countered grumpily. "I thought I left a report for you to read."

"Which we got just now, since you sent it three hours ago, and which we can't read because it's in scientific gibberish," John shot back.

Dr. Weir smiled indulgently at both men. "It could use a little interpretation."

"How much?" Rodney inquired. "Should I attempt to translate, or just give you the short-attention-span version?"

"I'm all for that one," John replied. "But hey, if it gets us air conditioning..."

"We found Atlantis's main power grid and storage system, which we could only find because the storm's lighting strikes partially filled said storage system," Rodney began. "That provided us with extra power."

"How much?" Weir asked, leafing through the report.

Rodney ignored her. "Then we figured out that we could reroute the matrix generators to power the shields more efficiently, and then we found a way to make the generators themselves produce more power. That's only half-done; we needed to sleep so the rest will get worked on today."

"How much extra power?" John asked, somewhat more firmly than Weir had.

"So we evaluated Atlantis's power needs and determined that, even with the shield constantly protecting us, we have enough power stored to run all the basic environmental systems, our computers, the city's lights and such, with some left over," Rodney concluded. "That is what the report says."

"Rodney, how much power do we have stored?" Dr. Weir repeated slowly.

Rodney smirked. "If we continue using power at a near-constant rate similar to what we're using now, factoring in twice-daily activations of the 'gate within this galaxy and continued efficient operation of the matrix generators, we can subsist for approximately two years, give or take a month, without building additional generators or locating a new power source."

"Two years?" John murmured. "You're sure?"

"Of course," Rodney went on, "That time span shrinks to 1 month if we open a 'gate back to Earth."

"We can go home?" Dr. Weir gasped, wide-eyed. "We have enough power for that?"

Rodney nodded slowly. "We have just enough stored to open a wormhole once. After that, we'd be back to where we were prior to the invasion, within a month. No power use other than the shield and minimal life-support systems."

"Would it matter?" John asked, leaning forward. "With contact with Earth, we could bring more supplies over."

"We can go home," Dr Weir said once again.

"Exactly," Rodney confirmed happily.

•••

It only took five minutes for everyone in the city to hear what Rodney had told Dr. Weir during their meeting. Then again, every scientist in his lab knew what he was going to say and as soon as they decided he'd told her, they started spreading the news themselves. As a result, the 'gate room was full of excited people when Weir stepped into it.

"I gather you've all been informed of the good news," She remarked with a smile. "Right now the plan is to open a 'gate to Earth in three hours, so we have quite a bit of preparation to do and very little time in which to do it. Dr. Beckett, Teyla, I'll need to coordinate with you regarding travel back to Earth."

Teyla and Dr. Beckett, both in attendance, hurried to meet with Dr. Weir while Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay took over the rest of the announcements. They were quickly swarmed by anxious crewmembers, as well as a few curious Athosians.

"Now, as I'm sure you all have figured out already, not everyone will be going back to Earth this trip," Rodney said, eliciting groans and grumbling from the gallery. "Major Sheppard and I have tentative schedules worked out for the military and science personnel, so we'll be organizing you in terms of who is returning to Earth when we open the 'gate."

"The rest of you will be sent through the next time we make a trip to Earth, but for today, you'll be asked to provide a list of essentials that you'd like brought back, if we are allowed the opportunity to gather them when we're home," John added.

Rodney and John separated then, wading into the crowd to gather up the people designated to return to Earth. The lists they'd made were a combination of those with the most information about Pegasus Galaxy to share with SGC and those personnel who desperately needed to return to Earth and stay there. A few crewmembers had developed chronic illnesses, psychological aversions to off world duty, or personality problems and as such were liabilities. Dr. Beckett would probably suggest they be sent back anyway, so Rodney and John had gone ahead and flagged them for the return journey.

After a couple of minutes of random questions being lobbed at his head, Rodney pushed his way out of the throng and headed for his lab. "If you work for me, follow me. Everyone else, go away," He shouted over the cacophonous voices, shoving an unfortunate Marine out of the way. "And if you're military, go bother Sheppard."

With all the scientists out of the way, John had more room to work. "Dr. Beckett and Teyla are going to brief the medical personnel and the Athosians, so feel free to wait somewhere else," He barked, pointing towards the exits leading to the two groups' headquarters. "We have a lot do to, so..."

"Who's going back?" Lieutenant Ford asked. John had a difficult time focusing on the man because he was shifting from foot to foot and bouncing a little, much like an excited puppy.

"Bates, you'll be in command while we're on Earth," John said by way of including both himself and Ford in the mission. "Ford has the list of those going," He continued, giving the list to Ford. "Bates, we need to discuss job assignments while you're short-staffed."

Meanwhile, Rodney was wishing he had some of Carson's tranquilizers. The scientists in his lab had known about this development for hours, but they were still disorganized and hyper. "Radek, I need you to stay here; someone with half a brain has to remain behind and keep this place running," Rodney said exasperatedly.

Zelenka frowned. "Why could that person not be Kavanagh? And when did you learn my name?"

Kavanagh tried to open his mouth in response to the insult, but Rodney beat him to it. "I said, 'half a brain', not 'three dancing brain cells'. I've always known your name; baiting you by garbling it is amusing."

Both Kavanagh and Zelenka stood silent as Rodney turned to the rest of his team, sorting out those who were going and those who weren't, offering insults to both groups in lieu of congratulations or condolences.

•••

It took every minute of their allotted preparation time, but when the somewhat large team stood together in the 'gate room, most everyone was calm and collected. The majority of the remaining city residents were crowded in the balconies and the sidelines, unwilling to miss the event even if they weren't going home. Teyla stood next to Dr. Beckett as the only Athosian traveling to Earth; her people had unanimously decided to stay together in their own galaxy. They weren't all that thrilled that so many of Dr. Weir's people were leaving Atlantis, but she had assured them that they weren't abandoning the city or the Athosians to the Wraith. Unfortunately the Athosians weren't overly comforted by her assurances.

"Dialing Earth," Dr. Grodin announced happily, pushing in the sequence for their home planet. More than two hundred sets of eyes followed the symbols as they lit up on the ‘gate, anticipation building as each one appeared. Finally the last one was in and Dr. Grodin activated the wormhole.

Nothing happened.

"Peter, what did you do?" Rodney called out.

"Nothing," Dr. Grodin shouted back. "Power levels are sufficient, the sequence is right and the ‘gate is functional. The controls show an error with the destination gate."

"An error?" Dr. Weir murmured. "What error?"

Dr. Grodin was a long minute in replying. "Ah... I think it's something along the lines of 'destination not found'."

The silence following Peter's announcement was deafening. It was Rodney who finally broke it.

"Oh fuck."

John looked over at his teammate with a slightly frightened gaze. When Atlantis's shields were about to fail and let a few billion gallons of ocean water rush in, John held out some optimism even as Rodney bleated about imminent death. When he accidentally woke up a race of evil life force-sucking aliens, John bucked up and knew they could win the war, even when Rodney was whining about the inevitable deaths of themselves and all the humans in at least two galaxies. When the long-range sensors picked up approaching Wraith hive ships, John tightened his belt and started strategizing ways to defeat an enemy that was stronger, more technologically capable and just plain meaner than he was, even as Rodney was running around like a fucking chicken with its head cut off.

But when the constantly-bitching Rodney McKay finally found a power source strong enough to dial Earth, only to have them dial home and get the stargate equivalent of 'this number has been disconnected or is no longer in use', John couldn't help but agree with Rodney's heartfelt 'oh fuck'.

"Did you try again?" Dr. Weir asked, walking quickly to the controls. Dr. Grodin moved aside even as he answered her.

"Yes, I've tried three times, with the same result. It's like Earth's ‘gate just isn't there," He said, pointing to the display. Rodney, Zelenka and John joined them at the 'gate controls, while the gathered crewmembers began to murmur anxiously.

"Let me see," Rodney muttered, glaring at the controls as though his gaze could bring Earth's ‘gate up by force of will alone. "I don't understand. The power's there, the code's correct, so it should dial. Unless..."

"Do I want to know?" John asked worriedly. "Or is whatever you're about to say gonna make the Wraith look friendly?"

Rodney raised his head up slightly so he could glare at John. "As I was going to say, unless something has happened to Earth, or at least, Earth's ‘gate, that would make dialing it impossible."

"Like what?" John asked, now looking over at Dr. Weir.

Rodney took a deep breath. "Once it was because the Goa'uld disassembled it. Then there was the time they took over Cheyenne Mountain. And the time those weird invisible aliens invaded--and the other invisible aliens that tried to take over O'Neill's brain. Then once we spaced the ‘gate to keep it from blowing up Earth and there wasn't an Earth ‘gate until we bought one from the Russians. I think they've had problems with the ‘gate oh, a dozen or a hundred other times, so which reason for it not functioning would you like to hear about?"

John felt his eyes crossing. "You're saying this happens a lot?"

Dr. Weir shook her head. "I wouldn't say it happens a lot--

"But Stargate Command has an annoying habit of getting itself in trouble," Rodney interjected. "Not entirely unlike we do."

"But they always get it fixed, right?" John pushed hopefully.

"Eventually," Rodney admitted. "Although it can take some time. And you have to remember, there’s still the possibility of some rather ugly bad things back home--Goa'uld and Replicators, for example."

"Did not they shut down ‘gate once because of them?" Dr. Zelenka asked Rodney.

"Which one, and how many times?" Rodney countered. "As I said, it's common for them to have problems."

"So what do we do?" Lieutenant Ford asked from his perch near the railing. He'd just come up to join the group, having given up on calming down the people below.

"Nothing," Rodney replied flatly. "We can't exactly run over and fix their ‘gate."

John frowned. "Can't we contact someone else in our home galaxy? Don't we have, you know, allies?"

"The Nox, and the Tok'ra," Dr. Weir supplied. "Both are allies of ours, yes."

"But if we can't contact Earth, why should they be able to?" Rodney argued. "We only have enough power to open a 'gate back to that galaxy once--and there's no guarantee anyone we go to has the power to open a 'gate back here. We could end up stranded on two worlds, with no way to contact Atlantis or Earth."

"So that's it?" John muttered. "We're just stuck here?"

"Yesterday morning, we were just stuck here, Major," Rodney spat back. "Nothing's changed."

"Except that now we know something's wrong at home and we can't do anything about it!" Kavanagh said from below, where he'd been following the conversation. "Well, we could but you don't think it's a good idea to try!"

"I don't think it's a good idea to potentially waste our only shot at getting back to our home galaxy by contacting a planet that might not be able or willing to help us," Rodney said harshly.

"Rodney's right," Dr. Weir added. "While we could contact an ally, there's a high probability they wouldn't be able to contact Earth either--and they probably wouldn't be very willing to help us out here."

"The Nox don't fight and the Tok'ra are busy with the Go'auld," Rodney reminded the group. "And I'll say again that neither of them have ever displayed the power necessary to open a 'gate to a different galaxy. As much as I'd rather be visiting the Nox, we can't strand the rest of the crew--and the Athosians--in the city."

"How noble of you," Dr. Grodin murmured sarcastically.

"What?" Rodney barked. "What do you want me to say? 'Oh, it's not a big deal that we can't get home, that months of work and no sleep and fighting and bad food and no air conditioning is nothing, that I don't really want to see home again? That maybe we'll try again tomorrow and everything will be ok? I'm not Pollyanna."

"We never made that mistake," Ford whispered to Dr. Zelenka. Unfortunately, Rodney heard him.

"Don't start," Rodney hissed to the young soldier. "If you want warm fuzzies, get Beckett to shoot you full of morphine. I did everything I could to get us a shot at making it home, but face it, we're stuck here. It's the truth, whether you enjoy hearing it or not. I can design generators and circuitry until time immemorial but that won't make Earth's stargate magically reappear."

"You don't have to be so pessimistic about it," Dr. Weir said to him, scowling.

Rodney opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it again and stepped back, away from the group. John watched as the physicist stared at Dr. Weir as though drilling a hole through her forehead. "Yes, I do," Rodney finally said, turning on his heel and stalking away. The crowd parted for him, unwilling to get in his way.

"Well..." Dr. Weir began tiredly, watching Rodney go.

John rolled his eyes at Rodney's dramatics. "I'll go after him," He said. "You all...figure out what we're supposed to do now."

•••

"So tell me," John began casually as he walked into Rodney's quarters, "What stings worse: not being able to contact Earth, or actually failing at something?"

Rodney cursed and threw a half-empty water bottle at John's head. He caught it easily, twisting the cap off with two fingers and tilting his head back to drain the bottle's contents. "I drank out of that, you know," Rodney spat, grimacing.

"What, you're catching?" John snarked, capping the bottle and placing it on a side table. "Failure isn't contagious."

Rodney crossed the room in three strides, throwing his arms forward to pin John against the wall. "I didn't fail!" Rodney shouted. "It is not my fault Stargate Command got its collective ass in a sling again!" He clenched his teeth, shoving John harder. "I'm a genius, you fucker, not a god; I can sit here and play Miracle Max all the goddamned time but it doesn't mean shit if Westley doesn't fucking dredge up the will to live!"

John swallowed, his attention focused on the irate scientist currently holding him by his shoulders, his own anxiety temporarily forgotten. He'd seen Rodney angry before, and frustrated, and even furious. But what he was seeing now was new; it was as though Rodney had never before experienced utter futility and his mind was rebelling against the very thought. Rodney's eyes were wide and dark and John hadn't ever seen him quite this intense before. He was breathing deeply but silently and he was warm, heat radiating off him like it would off hot coals. Rodney's entire existence was boiled down to a paradoxical juxtaposition of motion and stillness that held John in thrall.

It wasn't the end of the world, this setback; John knew this even though admitting it left a sour taste in his mouth. They were still alive and in possession of technology capable of keeping them that way. Why couldn't Rodney find comfort in that? What would it take for him to see that they had the incredible luxury of trying again? Rodney himself had brought it up, that they might as well wait it out and call back when Earth wasn't caught up in another death-defying stunt. John wanted to shake Rodney, to make him see that in the grand scheme of things this rather horrifying development wasn't so bad. He'd do it just as soon as it sounded reasonable to himself when he said it silently.

"And you, you're just standing here like you wake up every day, go to work and find yourself fucking stranded but that's ok because you've got guns to play with!" Rodney screamed, his voice rising with his rage. John suspected he was going to have bruises from Rodney's fingers as they dug into his shoulders. "Well?" Rodney growled, leaning in. "Say something, you half-assed, fucked-up failure of a flyboy!"

It was the insult that made John do it; it had to be. There wasn't any rational explanation for why he was leaning forward to meet Rodney, mashing his mouth to the one snarling in front of him. It certainly wasn't the fact that Rodney was seductive in his anger, hot and strong and still sharp as a knife, or that he'd been aching to do it since he'd met Rodney. No, this contact that was supposed to be fleeting but now involved tongues and lips was bound to be some form of punishment, some strange humiliation John was imposing on the man whose hands suddenly weren't quite so harsh. Blunt fingertips massaged the sore places on John's shoulders as a coffee-flavored tongue fornicated with his and when John opened his eyes he was staring right into Rodney's, as though the scientist had never closed his at all.

John was unnerved at the thought of Rodney watching him be affected by the kiss neither of them was willing to break. Rodney was ever observant, calculating and judging and in another second or two he was going to figure out that John liked kissing him and then it would all be over; it wouldn't be about distracting the pissed-off scientist or jolting Rodney out of his fury. It would start to seem real and John wasn't sure he could handle real right now. Not when he himself was still reeling over not being able to walk through the ‘gate and hit General O'Neill with a left hook for conning him into this fiasco--which was why he was kissing Rodney within an inch of his life instead of trying to convince them both of something neither could possibly believe... that it would all be okay.

A very small voice in John's brain whispered that this wasn't the reason he'd followed Rodney out of the 'gate room, that he was supposed to be offering comfort and calm as Rodney went through some kind of genius-style meltdown. That voice wasn't nearly as loud as the blood pounding in John's ears, or the sound of fingers scraping fabric as Rodney tugged him towards the bed. The deep, throaty growl in John's mind was telling him that he had a shot at it, that Rodney wasn't protesting and right now there was nothing to do to remedy the situation but this. John finally convinced himself to let go of Rodney's mouth, but only to let it slide down the man's throat, licking and sucking at salt and bitter defeat.

Rodney fell back onto the bed and John followed, catching himself on one hand as the other slid between them. Rodney's quick fingers found John's cock moments before John found Rodney's and then they were kissing again. This time it was more like biting, rough and unchoreographed and so intense it made John shudder. Or maybe that was the way Rodney's writing calluses were sliding over his cock, catching and dragging with each stroke. John tightened his grip on Rodney's erection, willing the man to move, to buck up into him and act like he wanted this as much as John did. It was obvious, though, that Rodney was as caught up in the maelstrom as he was, though; John could feel Rodney trembling, twitching with confusion as his mind flittered between arousal and rage, never letting his body catch up with either emotion.

A twist and then another and Rodney was suddenly still, back arched and mouth gaping but silent. Warm fluid spurted through John's fingers, most assuredly staining his clothes but he didn't care. The look of complete shock crossed with orgasm on Rodney's face was mesmerizing--not entirely unlike when the man discovered some new thing that could revolutionize their chances for survival. It was beautiful and hot and enough that when Rodney's hand started moving again John didn't fight his own climax, grimacing through it in a manner that couldn't compare to Rodney's unfocused beauty.

Rodney wasn't completely unskilled at post-coital maneuvers, John learned, when he found himself slumped on the bed next to Rodney and not draped heavily over the man's body. Absent contact with Rodney's warmth, though, the cavalry of reality charged in and John's eyes flew open with the realization that he'd gone off and fucked things up yet again. There was no way his luck would hold and Rodney would just pass out; no, John was going to have to face up to this monumental mistake, which he wasn't going to notice was a little bit harder than accepting that Earth hadn't picked up the phone. For a very brief moment, John wondered if he was still caught in a hallucination brought on by nanovirii; then he realized that there was no way even he would torture himself with this kind of repetitious hell. If he had the capacity to do so, he wouldn't keep crossing the line with the few people who acted like they gave a damn about him.

Then Rodney stood up and walked into his bathroom, closing the door behind him. John heard water running and didn't wait for a gilded invitation; he jumped off the bed, wiped his hand next to another stain on the soiled bedcovering, tucked himself into his pants and practically ran out of Rodney's room, the need to escape immediate and overwhelming. He couldn't imagine that Rodney wanted him there, not after he'd practically attacked the man.

Rodney washed himself off and listened to John's retreat, somehow refraining from shouting catty commentary through the door. He'd known what would happen when he stood up and went into the bathroom, but for some reason he'd held out hope that maybe John wouldn't prove him right and play the coward. Rodney wasn't a genius for no reason, however, and he was pretty good at predicting things when given sufficient information.

He considered what he knew of John's personality and behavior on Atlantis to be sufficient information to conclude that the Major would want an escape, preferably one lacking in witnesses. Rodney would've liked to have been able to say he didn't understand why John wanted to run, but Rodney was always honest with himself. He was the antithesis of who John normally liked and as such had to be an irrational, one-off moment of unprofessional idiocy.

Rodney was familiar with the scenario, having been a momentary lapse of reason for most of his partners. Still, having the man who just brought you off skulk away like fucking was illegal didn't do much for Rodney's ego--something that had already taken a serious blow in the last couple of hours. On the bright side, though, Rodney wasn't thinking about Earth. Whatever problems Stargate Command was having couldn't compare to facing the Wraith with the likes of John Sheppard at his side--after he'd been granted what appeared to amount to his single shot at the asshole's body.

Sighing to himself, Rodney did up his trousers and cued his radio, which had been off but not out of his ear for the past few minutes of insanity. "Dr. Weir?" He murmured, knowing that they still had much to discuss.