Rodney’s face slid into one of his trademark expressions of bored annoyance. “The satellite’s fixed, Sheppard. I don’t see what you’ve got to complain about.” The truth was, he’d been scared half out of his mind to try doing what he’d done, but otherwise it would’ve been far more difficult to repair the satellite. The only way he’d had the dexterity to remove and replace the circuitry had been because of what he was; anyone in one of their standard suits wouldn’t have been able to.

“Nothing to complain about?” Carson grated out, obviously furious. “You could’ve died, Rodney.” Just saying it made Carson’s skin twitch with rage. Rodney could’ve left him, left them alone and incomplete and couldn’t he see that?

“Oh, please,” Rodney snarked, “As if I would risk my life like that? I’m not the one with no sense of self-preservation here; that title belongs to John.”

“You knew we’d argue against it; that’s why you kept the plans from us,” John accused. “Normally you crow long and loud about your brilliant ideas but this time we had no clue. So you knew, and you kept us in the dark. We should’ve known, you asshole.”

Rodney refused to admit he’d thought about their reactions; fixing things like the satellite was his job and he couldn’t just not do it to make John and Carson happy. “I don’t tell you to stop going on missions just because you have a penchant for getting shot at,” He said to John, “So don’t get all self-righteous when my job gets a little risky. We all knew coming in that this was a dangerous mission, all of it. Atlantis, another galaxy...we can’t set aside what has to be done because someone might get hurt.”

“That’s not the point, although that’s rich, coming from the likes of you,” Carson snapped, “You were floating around in space, Rodney, with no way of knowing what might happen to you. Don’t you think we should’ve at least been told?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? If I recall correctly, you’re the one so scared of yourself you won’t even use the ATA gene. Besides which, you work in the infirmary, without any clue of whether the Atlantean security system is going to spontaneously decide sekoy’e are a threat and set off some kind of weird protection device that fries you to a crisp. I don’t ask you to outline every detail of your day, despite those risks,” Rodney said lightly. “Yes, it was dangerous. No, I wasn’t hurt. The benefits outweighed the risks, so stop with the mother-hen act.”

“You should’ve told us,” John insisted. “Instead of hiding it.”

“Would you have let me do it?” Rodney asked them. “Honestly, would you have allowed me?”

“Not without a fight,” Carson admitted. “It could’ve been done another way. You didn’t give us a chance.”

“A way that would’ve taken longer, risked other peoples’ lives and maybe attracted the Wraith’s attention,” Rodney explained. “And as much as I’m flattered by the idea that you two value my life over others in this city, the fact is that it would’ve taken two or three regular humans to replace those circuits, and any one of them could’ve easily died—by getting loose or tearing their suits or something else entirely. At least I could keep myself somewhat secure.”

“So now you get to put yourself at risk, just because you’re sekoy’e?” John asked Rodney. “All of a sudden you’re invincible?”

Rodney laughed humorlessly. “The military as a matter of principle risks itself because it claims to be better at protection than the civilian contingent on Atlantis. I fail to see the difference between that attitude and this situation. I had superior capabilities for the task, so I did it out of expediency and safety. You, Major, throw yourself into the front lines of every battle based on the idea that as a soldier you’re better at such things than one of us.”

“Rodney,” Carson warned, “It’s not the same.”

“It is the same,” He insisted. “Why is it alright for John to paint a target on his chest but not for me to do my job?”

“Because putting yourself out in space, in front of three hive ships, is not your job!” John yelled. “It’s irresponsibility.”

Rodney slumped into his chair, glaring at both Carson and John. “You could at least try to be objective, Major.” He sighed then, propping his elbows on his desk. “This is why fucking coworkers is such a bad idea. You lose your objectivity and all of a sudden one person’s life is more important than everyone’s survival.”

Carson stared, horrified, at Rodney, who was studying a stain on his desktop. “Your life is more important to us, Rodney. What kind of monsters would we be if it wasn’t?”

“The kind who’ve kept sight of why we’re here?” Rodney replied tiredly. “I’m trying to keep up at least a façade of caring what happens to the seething masses that currently occupy Atlantis. Fixing the satellite helps that cause along quite nicely. You two are acting irrationally.”

“I get what you’re saying,” John said slowly, still rather transparently angry, “But a little consideration isn’t out of the question, Rodney. You could have told us you were going to do that.”

“As you’ve admitted, you’d have tried to stop me,” Rodney countered. “Which would’ve been counterproductive and irrational.”

“We’re irrational by nature,” Carson mused. “Look...we don’t want you to stop doing your job. I’m not about to tell John to stop being a soldier, or to stop flying ‘jumpers like he’s invincible. But I’m also not about to stop bitching at him when he puts himself at risk.”

“No, but you won’t afford me the same latitude,” Rodney argued. “My job is just as dangerous as John’s, if differently so. Complain all you want, but let me do it. I’m not going to stop just because the two of you have weak stomachs.”

“I’m not going to agree to never try to stop you,” John insisted. “Sometimes you’re simply wrong. It happens, even to geniuses, Rodney. “

“I’ll agree to not take unnecessary risks just as soon as you do the same,” Rodney murmured, leaning back in his chair. “And as soon as Carson tells me what’s been bothering him so much lately.”

“You’re changing the subject,” Carson muttered unhappily. “This is about you being a damn fool idiot.”

“No, it isn’t, because I wasn’t being an idiot,” Rodney barked. “The only idiot in this room is you, and maybe John. You,” He continued, staring at Carson, “Are being eaten up by something. You sit in your lab all day, staring at the walls. You come home and mope and refuse to tell us what’s wrong. All we get are little bits and pieces of your oh-so-pathetic mumblings and then you have the unmitigated gall to come in here and scream at me for doing my job!”

Carson recoiled like he’d been slapped.

“He’ll say something when he’s ready to,” John argued, “And he’s right, you’re changing the subject.”

“No, I’m moving on to a new one, because the old one is finished,” Rodney shot back. “I was doing my job, end of story. At least I still do my job; I’m not standing around in my lab, gazing down at what used to be my navel and crying in my coffee because I’m not the man I used to be!”

“You have no idea!” Carson screamed, lunging at Rodney to grab him by the throat and yank him up out of the chair. “Do you know what I think about, sitting alone in that lab all day?” He asked as Rodney shifted and slid out of his grasp. “Do you know that I don’t care? If we make it back, if anyone here ever sees Earth again?” Rodney backed away, but Carson advanced on him, until finally John slid in between their bodies. Carson immediately shifted and tried to go around John to reach Rodney, but John caught him, pinning Carson to the wall.

“Calm down,” John murmured, while Rodney approached the door. “This isn’t doing any good.”

“I’ll not calm down,” Carson growled, shifting again and flowing around John to confront Rodney again. “While you’re happily playing superhero scientist I’m left trying to figure out what we’ve become. It’s not like they left an instruction manual, not nearly enough of one to do us any good anyway. Doesn’t it bother you, Rodney? Haven’t you noticed that you just don’t care anymore?”

“I’ve noticed,” Rodney spat, circling around as Carson moved between him and the door. “Like I said, I’m trying to at least pretend to give a damn. I don’t want to see anyone here die because I’m more interested in being something I never asked to be.”

“No, you just want to go out and get yourself killed,” Carson retorted hotly. “Do you even care?”

“Care?” Rodney echoed, his expression one of disbelief. “How the fuck can you even ask me that? Do I care? If I didn’t care, would I even bother with you?”

John glanced at the door and saw that they’d attracted something of an audience. Several scientists, as well as Dr. Weir, were standing outside and he waved them off before someone got the bright idea to intervene. “Look, this isn’t about caring or not caring—

“That much is obvious,” Carson hissed. “He doesn’t care, not about anything but himself and what he wants.”

“Do you really think that?” Rodney whispered, swallowing hard.

“I think maybe we’re all saying things we’re going to regret,” John murmured, hoping to diffuse the situation before it went nuclear.

It didn’t work. “You,” Carson growled, “Don’t have any room to talk. You’re so cavalier about your own life I’m surprised half out of my mind every time you come back through that ‘gate, what with the way you act on missions.”

“My job,” John reminded Carson, “Is to lead and protect my team members. Danger is part of it.”

“And getting yourself killed is just another part of the job?” Carson shouted. “Go on a mission, set up a trade agreement, get myself killed?”

“I’ve never been killed on a mission!” John stated, wondering when they’d fallen through the rabbit hole. He couldn’t even follow whatever they were yelling about. He knew it had started with Rodney’s space walk, but from there...

“Give it time, it’s going to happen,” Carson insisted angrily. “And you’ll probably take Rodney with you, the two of you off being stupid and brave and fucking insane!”

“You’re the only insane person here,” Rodney replied flatly. “Listen to yourself, Carson. We’re in a life-or-death situation. People are counting on us, all of us. We can’t just go crawl under a rock and wait for all the bad things to go away.”

“Why not?” Carson insisted, although even he knew it wasn’t reasonable. “Why can’t—

“Because I refuse to fail! This city is not going to die because it’s easier for me to just let it go!” Rodney screamed, his voice echoing through the room. “If you weren’t such a dimwit, you’d see! There are no breaks, no vacations, no respite. We work or we all die!”

A piece of Ancient technology went sailing past Rodney’s head to shatter against the door. “Why does it always have to be us? Haven’t we given enough?” Carson asked. “We gave up everything, just to try to power this city enough to get back to Earth. Everything.”

“But we’re still part of this mission,” John reminded him, “We have duties to fulfill here.”

Carson’s expression turned to stone. “Duties,” He said, his voice suddenly much lower. “I do hope they keep you warm at night.” With that he shifted form, hit the door controls and flew out of the room in a swirl of dust, narrowly missing Dr. Weir’s head. John and Rodney wasted no time in following him, both changing form to avoid the mass of people in their way.

“What the hell was that?” Dr. Weir asked the crowd of scientists around her.

•••

John hurtled through Atlantis’s corridors, stretched long and lean to keep air resistance from slowing him down. Carson had a head start, but between John and Rodney, he wasn’t going to get very far. Rodney cut away from the chase to circle around, darting through the ‘gate room and out a doorway. Carson’s flight was fast but predictable as he slid through an air vent, tempting the city’s defense systems, and tried to escape his pursuers by winding through a section of personnel quarters. John was never far behind and finally Carson got tired of John trying to pull him back, constantly interweaving bits of himself into Carson to stop the pursuit.

Carson found an open doorway and flew out over a balcony and up into the open air above Atlantis. He hadn’t quite gathered himself together when Rodney struck, enveloping Carson completely. John arrived a moment later, merging with Rodney to ensure that Carson couldn’t break free.

::Let me go!:: Carson screamed, struggling against the impenetrable capsule that was Rodney and John. He could feel their anger and fear but instead of fueling his own, it threatened to leech away his fury and leave only despair behind. Carson needed that rage; it was the only thing keeping him going.

::Not when you’re like this,:: Rodney replied, much more calmly than he’d thought possible. ::We aren’t going to just let you do this to yourself, Carson.::

::Do what, feel?:: Carson snapped, momentarily pausing in his attempts to gain freedom. Perhaps they, too, would relax and he’d have a chance to escape. ::At least I feel something; I’m not just playing along like all of this still matters:: He accused angrily.

::Oh, we feel plenty,:: John murmured, pushing some of himself inwards. Carson didn’t accept the invitation, so John simply let part of his being drift around, brushing against Carson as the doctor seethed and swirled helplessly. ::We’re not leaving you, Carson. You know that.::

Carson tried to resist John’s and Rodney’s presence, the way their emotions bled into him every time they made contact. He was fighting a losing battle, though; their very makeup made it impossible to not be hyperaware of what the others were feeling. Rodney was scared that Carson was losing his mind, that he would disappear in a haze of insanity and leave Rodney alone with John, without an empathetic anchor. John, too, had his fears although they weren’t as bracing as Rodney’s. Carson hated the stab of guilt that ran through him as he saw, unbidden, images of John trying to make it through the inevitable war with only Rodney by his side. Rodney was the strongest of them, but two alone couldn’t do it, not when the odds were so poor.

Rodney knew Carson was weakening, inundated by the unshielded presences of both himself and John. It was painful letting himself be exposed this way, but it was the only thing he knew to do. Carson was drifting away, caught up in a distorted web of irrelevance and frustration and fear that he was losing himself.

John sensed the moment Carson conceded. At that instant, he and Rodney moved inwards, intertwining themselves with Carson until they were indistinguishable from one another. Carson didn’t fight it, nor the way Rodney and John eased them down until they were just above John’s balcony, still in form but no longer hovering at the edge of the city’s shield. Carson barely noticed; instead he let himself sink into simply being, exhausted from his outburst and the vacuum left when his rage evaporated.

After a few minutes, Rodney began to shift form, easing himself onto the balcony floor. John followed suit, triggering Carson as he did so. When Carson was solid again, Rodney and John held him close, staying silent as he fell away into sleep.

•••

John stood outside Dr. Weir’s office, waiting for her to finish discussing something with Halling. It hadn’t been easy to leave Rodney watching over Carson but John had walked away, knowing that someone would have to explain their little blow-up. Although he’d never say it, John was surprised she hadn’t sent someone out to find them. Or maybe she’d just had Zelenka run a scan of the city, he wasn’t sure. Either way, it was good that she’d let them deal with it on their own.

Halling nodded to John as he left, avoiding the man’s curious expression. Dr. Weir already waving John inside. “I’m going to assume you’re here to explain to me just exactly what that earlier scene was about?” She asked, her voice and gaze frigid.

John sank down into the chair opposite her and tried to remember what he’d rehearsed. “Fallout from the change,” He began quietly. “Carson hasn’t adapted as well as Rodney and I have.”

Dr. Weir looked at him for a long moment. “When I agreed to allow you three to resume your duties, it was with the proviso that you enter ongoing counseling with Dr. Heitmeyer. I did so in order to prevent, or at least reduce, this kind of issue.”

“We’ve had counseling,” John countered defensively. “And she’s doing fine, so far as she can. Rodney and I are doing better because we’re more directly involved in the city’s defenses—and at the same time, in less direct contact with everybody else.”

“Explain,” She ordered, leaning forward in her seat. “You and Rodney interact with the rest of the mission, and the Athosians, on a daily basis.”

“But we’re not their doctor,” John pointed out. “It’s one thing to get used to Rodney and I ordering you around, but Carson’s had to deal with people not wanting him to touch them. He’s stuck in his lab, thinking his work is pointless to the city’s survival.”

“And how does this relate to your argument today?” Dr. Weir inquired. “From what little I could understand, it involved more than that.”

John sighed. “Most of it was personal.”

Dr. Weir waited another few minutes before speaking again. “I can well imagine the reasons why you might want to keep the nature of your relationship a private matter,” She said tentatively, “But such concerns are irrelevant when your lover’s quarrels become public entertainment.”

John gritted his teeth and tried not to look surprised that she knew about them. She had to; it was her job to know what went on in her city. “It was somewhat more than that, actually. This...thing we are? I know Heitmeyer’s told you that it makes us more concerned about each other than for any humans. She had to have; it could be a liability.”

“She mentioned it, yes,” Dr. Weir admitted. “And when Rodney went to repair the satellite, you were angered?”

“Only that he didn’t bother to tell us,” John replied. “For me, at least, It was as much a matter of a team member not telling me as anything else.” John waited for Dr. Weir to say something about the inappropriateness of their relationship, or the fact that they’d never told Heitmeyer about it.

“And now?” She asked, “Have you resolved this issue?”

“For the most part,” John said vaguely. “There won’t be any more public outbursts,” He swore.

“There won’t be,” She agreed firmly, “Or I’ll order you back to Heitmeyer—and take you and Rodney off the team until you get this sorted out.” Dr. Weir stood then and John followed suit, still wondering when she was going to tell him the three of them were out of line.

“Anything else?” He asked, not wanting there to be anything else but perversely sure it needed to be said.

Dr. Weir shook her head in the negative. “Nothing that needs to be discussed right now.”

“Oh. Alright,” John murmured, moving toward the door.

“John,” Dr. Weir said, stopping him.

“Yes?” He replied, noticing that she suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Is this...” She began, her right hand fluttering nervously, “Because of you being sekoy’e?”

John wasn’t sure relief was what he was feeling, although it also wasn’t fear. He thought for a moment before answering her, though. “Yes and no. It’s complicated.”

Dr. Weir paused again, obviously gathering her thoughts. “My policy on these things differs from the norm, in large part due to our circumstances,” She finally said. “And contrary to what you might think, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to discuss...personal issues with someone. As such, I’ll give you the same chance I’ve given the others. Don’t jeopardize our mission, our city or our people. In your case, I would add that it is in everyone’s best interests that you continue being discreet—and not just because you’re not human anymore. I won’t tell you to hide it, only to use your good judgment. Are we clear?”

“Very,” John said, feeling as though he’d narrowly escaped the guillotine. He exited her office intent on returning to his quarters and checking up on Carson—and telling Rodney that Dr. Weir knew something about the nature of their relationship—even if there was no way she could ever understand the depth of it. She knew they were sleeping together, and that was enough to cause concern.

•••

When John got back to his quarters, it was to find Rodney sitting quietly on the couch, his eyes fixed on a still-slumbering Carson. “Did he ever wake up?” John whispered as he took a seat next to Rodney.

Rodney snorted. “Dead to the world. What did Weir say?”

“She knows.”

Rodney leaned against John, his irritated amusement seeping across the connection. “Of course she knows; it’s her job to. Elizabeth is a great many things, more good than bad on the whole, but she’s most certainly not blind.”

John glanced at Rodney’s face, wanting to see a facial expression in addition to the almost subconscious knowledge of Rodney’s mood he already had. “You never said.”

“I never saw a reason to,” Rodney explained. “She didn’t act like she was going to confront us, no one said anything and you know we’d have heard it eventually if the gossips were talking too loudly and to be honest—which I always am unless it suits me otherwise—it’s not any of her business.”

“It is now,” John murmured. “We’re supposed to be discreet. She’s not sure how the city’s going to react when they all get it figured out. Knowing versus knowing, I guess.”

“That’s it?” Rodney asked, surprise flowing through them both. “Nothing about what happened today?”

“Oh, we talked about that. She’d like for us to get group therapy from Heitmeyer, but she didn’t actually order it.”

“A threat, then,” Rodney correctly surmised. “Well, it’s not like Kate doesn’t already have a full patient load...Anyway, what about the rest?”

“The rest?” John asked, confused. “What ‘rest’?”

Rodney waved one hand in an abstract pattern. “The satellite. We are still going to take out the Wraith, right?”

John blinked; he hadn’t been aware that they were supposed to discuss that. “As far as I know; it never came up. If she’d delayed it, I’m sure we’d have heard about it by now. Second, third and fourth in command, remember?”

Rodney was not impressed by John’s reply and he didn’t have to say a word for John to know it. After a few seconds of feeling Rodney’s irritation, John nudged him. “He should be going on missions.”

“Who? Carson?” Rodney muttered. “Yes, yes, I know. After this little fiasco, do you think she’s going to let him out of the city?”

“We can work on her.”

“We can annoy her until she caves,” Rodney corrected.

•••

Rodney stood in front of the display, eyes fixed on the three hive ships hovering just past their most distant moon—the one Ford insisted on calling Iman. More than once Rodney had wondered if that meant the other moon was Ziggy Stardust.

“The satellite is ready,” Zelenka murmured.

“I know that,” Rodney snapped. “The targeting pattern has already been confirmed. Unless someone has an objection, and no one does because they’re not that stupid, fire.”

John rolled his eyes at Rodney’s antics, but quickly returned to watching the same thing everyone else was watching—the image of three hive ships and one weapons satellite. Rodney had told him it would be over quickly; the satellite could fire its primary weapon several times in quick succession—provided it was correctly repaired.

The only warning the onlookers got was a brief message flashed on the satellite’s control monitor. A few short seconds later, the hive ships were gone.

“Well, that was something of a let-down.”

Rodney stared incredulously at John. “A letdown?” He yipped indignantly. “We just blew up three hive ships in less than a minute, and it was a letdown?”

John shrugged, ignoring the various people staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “I dunno, maybe I was expecting more...fireworks?”

“Dr. Weir? Can you make it a rule that Major Sheppard doesn’t get to talk? Ever?” Rodney pleaded as his gaze returned to the viewing screen in front of him. All that remained of the Wraith ships was a large drift of rubble. The potency of the weapons satellite exceeded even Rodney’s lofty standards; the Wraith hadn’t even gotten a shot off before it sliced neatly through each ship.

“Only on the condition that you allow Lieutenant Ford to name planets,” Dr. Weir retorted. She then turned her attention to Teyla, who was failing miserably at the task of keeping the Athosians calm. For the first time in their collective memory, humans had scored a major victory against the Wraith. They were ecstatic, and rightfully so; with the Wraith presence gone from the solar system, the Athosians could return to the mainland.

“Letdown,” Rodney grumbled as John stood beside him, surveying the on-screen carnage. “I suppose we could have waited until some darts were over the city; that way you could go out and play Maverick tracking them down. “

John pretended to consider the comment. “As much fun as it might’ve been, on the whole getting rid of all the Wraith at once is better. Even if it was anticlimactic.”

“I’m sure the Athosians would be more than happy to assist you in burning off all that excess energy by helping them reassemble the city we’ve got stored for them out on the north pier,” Rodney grumbled, scowling at John. “Which, from the sound of things, is going to start happening in about five minutes.”

“What, no party?” Ford asked as he walked over to the display. “Shouldn’t we have a party?”

“Shut up, Ford,” John muttered. “Parties are why we go on missions, remember? Everyone in this galaxy throws enough parties; it’s easier just to crash theirs.”

“Excepting the Genii, of course,” Rodney added snarkily. “Lieutenant, why don’t you go ask Weir if you can have a party. Those of us with actual duties need to work.”

“What work?” John asked curiously. “The Wraith are very, very dead right now.”

Dr. Zelenka fielded John’s question. “We must collect bits of wreckage for analysis,” He stated, “And analyze data from satellite.”

“And finish building those portable shield generators for the Athosians, so they don’t have to evacuate to the city again,” Rodney interjected. “Oh, and make up more of the gel matrix for their city; we haven’t done that yet. And fix Kavanagh’s design for a portable water treatment unit so they have a way to power those buildings. And—

“Can I go?” John interrupted. “To get the wreckage. You’ll need a pilot.”

Rodney shrugged absently. “Ask them,” He murmured, pointing to a group of his scientists. “They’re the ones on that job.”

John was about to approach the scientists when Dr. Weir spoke up.

“As I’m sure you’ve heard, our repaired weapons satellite was successfully used to destroy—

“She’s making a speech,” John stated as he sidled up to Rodney. “Did you know she was going to be speech-making?”

Rodney’s expression was one of obvious boredom. “Of course she’s making a speech; someone has to. The masses demand inane but eloquent statements of the obvious.”

“...which means, of course, that our Athosian population will be returning to the mainland. They have generously offered to host a celebratory—

“Party. Ford must’ve gotten to her,” Rodney griped. “We’re too busy for parties.”

John smirked and tuned Dr. Weir out once more. “Technically, we’re too busy for anything fun, including sex. It’s never stopped us before.”

Rodney rolled his eyes at John’s comment. “I would rather have sex than go to a celebratory event, Major. Actually, I’d rather get this work done so I can reasonably excuse myself for the evening.”

“Dr. McKay,” Teyla said, walking up to his work station. “Will you be attending the festivities?”

Rodney looked up, distracted. “We have a great deal of work to do here.”

John wondered why Teyla was smirking. “You will be one of the guests of honor, Dr. McKay, for your role in defeating the Wraith.”

“Guest of honor?” Rodney echoed, perking up at the mention of such a thing. “What does being a guest of honor entail?”

•••

“So, no Wraith,” Carson said, staring up at the clear night sky. The pier was slightly warm on his back as he stretched out on it, letting the muted sounds of laughter and music float over him from the distant celebration.

“Not at the moment,” John confirmed. He took another deep drink of the wine someone had given Rodney as a thank-you for engineering the satellite’s repair. Rodney motioned for the bottle, taking a sip himself before lying down next to Carson.

“Think they’ll notice we slipped away?” Carson asked them, turning on his side to look at Rodney and John. “Seeing as how someone here’s a ‘guest of honor’.”

“Don’t knock the guest of honor status,” Rodney defended. “I didn’t see anyone showering the two of you with gifts of wine and chocolate.”

“I got one of those charm thingies Halling carves,” John replied, pulling the item out of a pocket. “See?”

Rodney took the carving and held it up to the full, pale moon. “Sneaky sonofabitch,” He whispered, smiling crookedly.

“What?” Carson asked, peering at the thing. “It’s pretty enough.”

“It’s tripartite,” Rodney explained. “But the sections are different, see?” He handed it to Carson for inspection.

“Ok, so why does that make Halling sneaky?” John asked Rodney. “Why not just crafty?”

Rodney’s sigh was his usual, impatient one. “Although the majority of human civilizations place superstitious value on the occurrence of the number three, there are exceptions. The Athosians are one of them.”

“So this isn’t a traditional Athosian design?” Carson mused as he gave the trinket back to John.

“Did you read what he carved on it?” Rodney asked.

“I don’t read Athosian,” Carson defended. “I didn’t know you did, either.”

“Not much,” Rodney confirmed, “But I can read my own name.”

John’s head shot up. “Your name?” He examined the charm more closely.

“The individual letters of each of our names are woven into separate sections of the design,” Rodney said. “The Athosian equivalent of a locket, I suppose.”

“Sneaky bastard,” John whispered, grinning. “He never said anything.”

“Athosians are a rather discreet group,” Carson reminded them. “And not particularly caught up in the prurient type of gossip that fuels our chatterboxes.”

“Which only means their gossip is boring,” Rodney countered, taking another drink of wine. “If you’re not going to talk about who’s doing who, and you don’t have revolutionary technology to discuss, what’s left?”

“The marvelous intrigues of interplanetary trade?” John suggested. “Or maybe the Athosians keep track of which of their trading partners wear dresses and which ones wear military uniforms.”

“I don’t know about theirs, but with regards to ours, dresses are winning out by a 4:1 ratio,” Rodney told him. “You do realize we’re going to go back to the Taim’la city and reclaim the rest of the buildings,” He continued in a complete change of subject.

John and nodded. “It makes sense,” John said. “I know you’re close to getting the fabrication sectors of the city running, but we don’t have the resources to just make everything we need.”

“Do you think Nessie’s moved on, now that the shield’s down?” Carson asked.

“Of course,” Rodney replied automatically. “And that has to do with this conversation how?”

Carson shrugged. “I was just curious, is all. We need better allies.”

“Yes, we do,” John concurred. “Interesting set of non sequiturs there, Carson.”

“It’s a lovely night,” Carson said by way of explanation.

“And we blew up Damocles’ sword,” Rodney agreed. “Yet we’re still discussing work.”

“It’s reflexive, I’d say,” Carson offered. “Although we could be having sex right now.”

John laughed. “Someone would notice. We’re not all that far from the party.”

Carson rolled over so he could peer out across the inky ocean. “Not if we were down there,” He pointed out.

Rodney and John shared a glance. “He does have a point,” Rodney conceded. “Although for the sake of principle I feel compelled to point out that considering the sheer numbers of Wraith in the galaxy, we can’t abrogate our responsibility to develop a better defense against them just because we’ve earned ourselves a temporary reprieve from their presence.”

John pulled his radio away from his ear and set it on the pier. “And having made that requisite statement of the obvious, we can now have sex.”

“Well, yes,” Rodney said flatly, removing both his and Carson’s radios. “That was the point.”

•••

“Have you seen Dr. McKay?” Teyla asked Dr. Zelenka, who was doing his best to outdrink Dr. Grodin. “I cannot locate him.”

Dr. Zelenka, his mouth full of wine, waved a hand toward a distant hallway. After he swallowed, he said, “He left, with Dr. Beckett and Major Sheppard.”

Nearby, Kavanagh snorted inelegantly. “Figures.”

Teyla’s expression became curious. “You disapprove of their friendship?” She asked softly. “It is not to be unexpected, given their recent ordeal.”

“Uh huh,” Kavanagh muttered, throwing back some of the mild Athosian wine. “If we were back on Earth, O’Neill wouldn’t put up with that kind of thing.”

Both Zelenka and Grodin gave Kavanagh appraising looks. “Perhaps, perhaps not,” Grodin murmured. “But we’re not on Earth and they’re not hurting anybody.”

“They are happier for their friendship,” Teyla said firmly. “You should celebrate it,” She told Kavanagh. “My people rejoice in such things; I believe yours do as well.” With that, she walked away to find Dr. Weir, leaving the three scientists to their drinks.

“Bitch,” Kavanagh spat under his breath.

“You are jealous,” Zelenka replied. “It makes you poor scientist.”

Kavanagh glared at Zelenka before stomping off. “I don’t follow,” Grodin said over the rim of his cup.

“He is brilliant,” Zelenka said, motioning at the retreating Kavanagh. “But he hates Dr. McKay and it weighs down his work.”

“Some people, even most people, would be uncomfortable with them,” Grodin pointed out. “Hell, I just don’t think about it; it’s not like they’re necking in the ‘gate room.”

Zelenka looked hard at Grodin for a moment before taking a sip of his wine. “Who cares what they do? And where else would they turn?” He asked, reaching for a bottle of wine to refill his supply. “I do not pine for any of them, so what does it matter to me?”

“There is that,” Grodin replied quietly. Indeed, what was there to care about, anyway? “Do you think they’ll ever say anything about it?”

“Why would they?” Zelenka asked matter-of-factly. “Unless they plan to marry and want us to give them toaster, there is no need for posting of bans.”

Dr. Grodin laughed at the mental image of half of Atlantis showing up at Rodney’s lab bearing kitchen appliances and china. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am right,” Zelenka retorted with all the confidence of a half-drunk man. “I am always right.”

Both men laughed at the statement. “Except when Rodney’s right,” Grodin corrected. “Then we’re all wrong.”

Zelenka muttered something in Czech and poured more wine in Grodin’s cup. “True, but he is not here, is he?”

•••

The ocean felt different without the shield constraining it; the current was stronger and life more plentiful. Carson urged them deeper, pushing their combined form into a lower, colder layer of water. A barracuda-like fish swam through them, making John laugh and Rodney grumble. Carson simply enjoyed the way its fins sliced through their mass, letting chilled salt water tickle until they flowed back together.

They would have to surface soon enough, retake their human forms and go back to the incessant aggravation that was work and life in Atlantis. For the moment, though, they were home.