Gifts Unasked For

The planet was like most of those seeded by the Ancients: green and fertile, Earth-like and perfect for human settlers.

The Ancients hadn't taken the Wraith into account, of course.

Aiden checked the database one last time, confirming that this planet was on the 'extinct–no viable food-source' list. It still weirded him out that he could just tap into that knowledge with a thought. The major must have felt that way with the Ancient technology, at first. Still, Aiden wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The planet was perfect for his base of operations. No people to get caught in the crossfire even if the Wraith came after him. The Stargate was in orbit, so nobody was likely to wander in without warning. Perfect for a one-man operation.

He set the ship down in a clearing near an isolated structure. He had to trudge through a short wooded area to get there, but that wasn't a hardship. Not anymore. The building itself wasn't much more than four stone walls and a chimney, thick beams crossing the open top. With a little work he'd have it livable in no time, cozy for when the cold season hit. His new strength should see him through the job easily enough.

He had a plan, he had a home, and he had a whole lot of new skills.

Aiden just wished he wasn't so damn lonely.

John rolled his shoulders against the tightness brought on by the unnatural quiet of the cabin, then checked the display once again as they settled into orbit. No ships, which was good, since ships usually meant Wraith. Though if Ford had wound up here, he had better have had a ship, or else their mission was over before it even began.

They'd been at this two days. Two long days of tracking down every rumor of Earth-style clothes or equipment. Two days of jumping from gate to gate, hoping against the odds that they weren't on a wild-goose chase. Two days of pervasive silence between them.

He glanced over at Rodney, busy studying the displays. Rodney had been just as quiet as he and Teyla, which didn't make John feel any better about this venture. Rodney hadn't said anything about probability or risk; John knew he'd go a long way for his friends. He sighed. At least McKay would have a position to return to back on Atlantis. He and Teyla would have a tougher time.

John checked flight data one more time, and then eased the jumper toward the planet.

"Here we go," he announced softly, and even that seemed too loud. He could feel Teyla's coiled tension in the seat behind him, power waiting for an opportunity to strike. The jumper felt the same; controlled power responding easily to his bidding, no desperate shaking as they entered the atmosphere, no gees to fight as they soared. Ford had asked him if he missed the sensation of fighting gravity and inertia, and he hadn't been able to explain it. Now he might not ever have the chance to try.

The view leveled out as he slowed their descent. The planet was the same old, same old: trees and green fields everywhere, rivers and small oceans breaking up the monotony.

"I'm getting an energy reading of some significance, directly ahead," Rodney said.

John nodded. "Any signs of life?"

"No discrete life signs, but evidence of civilization at some point in time. There's a structure not far from the energy readings."

John tried not to get his hopes up. "Any clue what that energy is?"

Rodney shrugged. "I don't think it's a ZPM, and wow, I think that's the first time I've ever been happy to say that."

John was inclined to agree. If it wasn't a ZPM, it might be residue from a ship's engine, which might be a friendly, which might even be Ford himself. A lot of ifs, but it was better than nothing.

The clearing they landed in was covered with tall, thick-bladed grass that brushed his arms with every step and every gust of wind. He signaled Teyla to take point, then waited as Rodney did his thing with his scanner.

"This way," Rodney said with a jut of his chin.

John flicked his hand forward. Teyla set off smoothly through the grass. At times watching her move made him feel like a klutz, but mostly he just admired her grace. Among other qualities. He knew himself well enough to keep those thoughts tightly under wraps, though, along with the part drilled into him by his father that didn't like the idea of a woman in the line of fire. He was lucky to have her on his team.

The forest was eerily quiet, only broken by the creak of branches in the wind and the occasional flutter of bird-like wings. The forest smelled right, at least, like every wooded area he'd ever been to. Damp and earthy, just a little metallic, with the overwhelming scent of green things and rotting wood beneath it.

Teyla slowed. More sunlight broke through the branches here; they had come to the edge of another clearing. Teyla edged forward as they waited. John gripped his P90 more securely as she signaled them forward again. The structure they had spotted from the jumper sat in the middle of the clearing, more swaths of the tall grass obscuring it. It didn't look like much: a lousy-looking wooden door in the middle of stone walls topped by a haphazard roof. John didn't think it was inhabited, but then Teyla pointed out an almost invisible line of bent stalks.

He spread his fingers. Rodney and Teyla nodded. Teyla ghosted out to his left, Rodney went to his right. John took a deep breath, counted to thirty, and started through the middle of the clearing.

He was halfway to the shack when he heard a high-pitched whine. Then he was staring helplessly up at the incandescence of the sun, failure overwhelming him. John prayed as consciousness dropped away, hoping against common sense that Teyla and Rodney had escaped.

Teyla woke to a low, muffled moan, full of frustration. She blinked to clear the stickiness from her eyes, then blinked some more as she tried to focus on her surroundings. The blinding orange light of the setting sun striped through a small room, making it difficult to make out the dimensions and details. She was propped against a wall, unable to move more than her eyes and the index finger of her left hand.

There were grey-clad legs to either side of her. The longer set were on her left--obviously Colonel Sheppard. She strained her eyes to the side, but she could only make out his chest. Teyla tried to call out, but the only thing that came out was a breathy hum.

A plaintive moan answered her from her right; clearly Dr. McKay was unhappy with the situation. Colonel Sheppard moaned from her left, a long-suffering sound that she judged to be a response to McKay. It only egged the doctor on; he replied with a long series of grunts and moans. Strangely, her heart felt lighter than it had since they had decided on this venture.

She heard creaking, the sound of an old door opening. They all fell silent, waiting as a figure stepped forward into her line of sight, silhouetted by the glare of the sun.

Teyla felt the same strange sensation she had experienced immediately before the attack, like a Wraith but not. Goosebumps flared across her skin. She struggled desperately, but her fear did not aid her in any way. Her heart pounded faster and faster until she thought it might fly from her chest as the creature approached.

Her worst fears were realized. It was a Wraith, one of the foot soldiers, though it appeared different from most she had seen. Beside her, Dr. McKay breathed rapidly, heavily. Teyla tried not to breathe at all. She tried to gather the words of the death prayer, but her mind was empty. The creature was the only thing that existed. It lifted its right hand--and she closed her eyes, not wishing to see its ugliness when she died. The moment seemed to last forever, strangled noises coming from either side of her, her heart pounding, air burning in her throat--but nothing happened. Finally, Teyla gathered her courage and opened her eyes.

Aiden stared back at her, his wide grin catching the light.

Teyla gasped. Her stomach flipped as her body tried to keep up with the reversal of her emotions. She tried to speak, but her voice was still paralyzed.

"Man, it is so good to see you guys," Aiden said. "It's been lonely as hell here by myself."

Dr. McKay made an escalating run of noises that ended with something that sounded like a growl.

"Sorry about that, Dr. McKay," Aiden said with a laugh. "Couldn't take any chances."

Teyla managed to tilt her head a fraction so she could see Aiden better. He wore military fatigues, torn in places, but he carried a Wraith stunner.

Aiden had been the one who had attacked them.

Confused, she studied his face. A terrible idea occurred to her. It was very much Aiden's face, yet it was not. His eyes were dilated to pure blackness, his skin was oddly pale, and there were ridges along his nose and eyes.

And the strange sensation had not faded.

"Anyway, you guys will be right as rain soon enough. And you're not drooling, Dr. McKay, so that's an improvement, right?"

Aiden grinned and winked at her. Teyla's heart skipped; he sounded so very much like himself, but she knew he was not. Not completely.

"Oh hey! I bet you guys want to know what happened." He waited a beat, glancing between them as if expecting an answer. "There's not that much to tell--I guess some of the Wraith like to play with their food. One minute we're surrounded on the South Pier, and the next I'm waking up on a table with this ugly-ass dude over me, trying to use me as a pin cushion."

Aiden's eyes flicked towards hers again, his face turning sheepish. Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay had spent an enlightening evening several months ago explaining Earth vulgarity to her, but Aiden had never been comfortable using it around her. She had always found it both amusing and frustrating; now it was reassuring.

"So then he brings out the biggest needle yet," he continued, "and after he jabs me I just lose it. Somehow I got out of there, grabbed one of their ships and took off. How about that, Major? A jarhead doing some mighty fine flying, if I say so myself."

Sheppard grunted. Aiden laughed. "It's a sweet ship, Major. Maybe I'll take you up for a spin. Later, though. I've got some stuff to take care of."

He stood, his face rising out of her line of sight. "Sorry the place is lame. My grandma would be all over me for being such a bad host, but the local Wal-Mart sucks big time. Latrine's out back, well's out front. Make yourselves at home."

Aiden walked to the door. They all raised noisy protests. He paused and turned back with another of his easy grins. "It's so great to see you guys."

Then he was gone. Again.

Sheppard and McKay continued their outcries, their volume rising to near shouts. Finally they fell silent. Teyla tapped her index finger against the floor she barely felt--tap, tap, tap--until her mind drifted away from her hopes and fears, and she entered an emotionless trance. At some point her other fingers joined in.

Teyla blinked back to awareness, her control returned to her. She flexed her wrists and elbows. Her skin was still numb, but she could move.

"You okay, Teyla?"

She nodded at Colonel Sheppard and tried to answer him. The air caught in her dry throat. She coughed and tried again. "I am fine. You?"

He nodded, barely visible in the now-dark room. Dr. McKay was speaking, muttering about pins and needles and other items. She rolled to her side and began the laborious process of standing. The lack of sensitivity made her clumsy and slow.

"You saying anything important over there McKay, or you just running off at the mouth?"

"Everything I say is important," Dr. McKay said. "Some things are just more important than others."

Colonel Sheppard rolled his eyes and then smiled at her. "You want to help me kick Ford's ass when he gets back here?"

She returned his smile tentatively. "I hope that will be unnecessary."

"Oh, he's got it coming, all right, leaving us here like that." The colonel grinned. "It's good to have him back, isn't it?"

Teyla hesitated, but she knew that no good would come of staying silent. "I am concerned. Did he not seem odd to you?"

Sheppard shrugged, but Dr. McKay stepped forward, his intense eyes focused on her. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "I noticed physical changes--his eyes were dilated, and there were ridges on his face."

"He was wearing that Wraith skull-thing," the colonel objected. "Maybe it's rubbing blisters."

Teyla pushed down her irritation, reminding herself that he did not know what she did. "Did he not seem overly effusive to you? And why did he not return to Atlantis if he had the means?"

"Why did he shoot us?" Dr. McKay added. "I really, really could have done without that little fun time."

Teyla nodded. Colonel Sheppard would not meet her eyes. Instead he inspected his vest and weapons.

"Look," he said. "The lieutenant has been through a traumatic experience. Of course he's going to act a little off."

She shook her head. "Colonel, you must listen. I was able to sense him."

Sheppard looked up at that. "You're saying he's a Wraith?"

"No," she said slowly. She rubbed her hands together, getting used to the returning sensation. "I do not know what to make of it, but I felt something similar to the Wraith, but different, whenever he was near."

"Oh, that's not good," Dr. McKay murmured.

Colonel Sheppard stared at the far wall for a long time. "Fine. Maybe they did something to him. But he's still Ford, and I'm bringing him home. Got that?"

"Of course," Teyla agreed. "That was never in question."

He held her eyes, then nodded sharply. "Good. Now let's go see if we can find him again."

Teyla sighed as the colonel left the building. She respected him very much, and his loyalty was one of his best qualities. But at times, that stubborn loyalty was an impediment. As she started to the door herself, she noticed that Dr. McKay was still staring after the colonel. He turned at the sound of her steps, and their eyes met. His worry was plain in his clear eyes.

"Right," he said. He lifted his P90 and headed out into the night.

The colonel stood in the middle of the grassy clearing, the thin beam from his gun flashing as he swept it through the darkness. A single half-moon silvered the land. Insects chirped in the distance, a few darting and dancing in the artificial light.

"Teyla?"

She slowly turned, looking for signs of Aiden's passage. The dark obscured small details, and the grass was broken and bent in many places where their own bodies had been dragged through the area mere hours before.

"I cannot tell," she concluded. "Perhaps it would be better to wait until morning. Aiden did say he would return, and we do not know what predators hunt these woods at night." It would not be an issue on Athos; the large, dangerous animals hunted by day. But she did not know this planet, and even small things lurking in the dark might be deadly.

Sheppard stared at the tree line, his mouth drawn the side and his brow furrowed in unhappy contemplation. He sighed. "All right, I guess we're spending the night in the Holiday Inn."

Teyla raised her eyebrows, but he did not explain.

"Oh, if only," Dr. McKay said. "I wouldn't even complain about their lousy pillows."

The colonel snorted as he turned back toward the building. "Yeah right, Rodney. Pull the other one."

At least some things were returning to normal. As their back-and-forth sallies continued, Teyla told herself that everything would be fine. Aiden was alive, and that was the important thing. All other problems would wait until they returned to Atlantis.

Aiden jumped, did a sideways shuffle, and then pumped the air a couple of times before he settled back into a lope. He'd looked in on the team one last time after they'd settled in for the night. Dr. McKay hadn't noticed him passing by--Aiden would have to give him hell for that. Then again, Aiden was impressed by his own stealth lately. He was better at penetrating a line than he'd ever been before, so maybe he could cut McKay a little slack. Still, it wouldn't do for the team to get taken out because of a blind spot.

He smiled. It was so good to see them again. The doc, and the major, and Teyla. Lord, she was a sight for sore eyes. And man, were his ever sore. The moonlight wasn't too bad, but he still had a headache from being out in the sun earlier. He hated that damn skull plate--it stank like old bone and dead Wraith--but he had to admit it helped his sensitive eyes. Just one more reason to wear the thing, besides blending in with the Wraith when he was around them.

Aiden hit the wrist control for the transport beam. The trip wasn't as smooth as going through the gate, but it was over so quick it didn't matter. The dart was a fine piece of machinery. Maybe he really would take the major up later. Now, he had an appointment he didn't want to be late for. The team would be here when he got back, and that made him happier than he'd been in a very long time.

Teyla sat last watch, as was her custom. She had risen before dawn as long as she could remember, sharing tea and conversation with those close to her. Trips through the Stargate, to planets where the day cycle was different from her own, made it more choice than bodily habit, but she always enjoyed the hours before dawn. On missions past, if they had a campfire, she would prepare tea to serve with the morning rations. It was a small, but important part of her life from Athos that she enjoyed sharing with her new friends.

This morning there would be no tea. They had only minimal supplies with them, having left their overnight packs in the jumper. So she merely watched as the sky lightened on the horizon. When she judged it close to sunrise, she returned to the hut to wake Colonel Sheppard. He blinked at her blearily as she opened the squeaky door. He and Dr. McKay were lying back to back on the hard floor. She had shared warmth with each of them in turn last night; it made the discomfort much easier to bear.

"It is sunrise," she told him quietly.

The colonel nodded and rolled to his feet. Dr. McKay hunched inwards but did not wake as they left. She stood with Sheppard, taking in the brisk air and the sounds of wildlife awakening with the rising sun. At some point in the past year, this had become their habit, along with hot tea and allowing Dr. McKay as much rest as possible. Despite the beauty and calm, she grew restless, filled with the need to start after Aiden.

After a few minutes, the colonel turned to her. "Quiet watch?"

She inclined her head. "Just myself and the night insects."

He nodded. "I want to see if we can round up Ford. If not, we'll head back to the jumper, take a little spin and see what's what."

The sun was higher now, purples and pinks giving way to a blazing yellow. She had to squint to see his face. "Would it not be better to remain here, in case the lieutenant returns?"

Sheppard sighed and turned back toward the cabin. "I'd rather find him sooner than later. We've waited long enough." He walked away, determination in his stride as he approached the door. "McKay! Get that lazy ass out of bed!"

That too was customary. Teyla hugged her arms around her chest and hoped that soon all of their habits would be restored. She took a deep breath and went inside, ready to break fast on the oddly flavored Earth rations. She smiled at Dr. McKay, still groggy and uncoordinated from sleep.

By the time they had found Aiden's trail, leading to the edge of another stretch of woods, Dr. McKay was his normal self, talking full volume about alarm clocks and bug bites and other irritations in his life. Teyla concentrated on finding signs of Aiden. The trail edged a shallow ravine with a thin trickle of water tinkling over the rocky bed at its base. Like the first forested area, it soon opened up into another grass-covered clearing.

She stopped, waiting for her teammates before she gave voice to what she saw.

"I do not believe he is here any longer," she told them.

A large patch of flattened, singed grass took up the middle of the clearing, sure sign that a ship had been there recently.

"That would explain the energy readings," Dr. McKay said. "He did say he had a Wraith ship."

"So where the hell did he go?"

Teyla had no answer. Dr. McKay shrugged. "How would I know that?" he asked incredulously.

Colonel Sheppard ignored him. "Back to the jumper. This is really starting to piss me off." He turned and headed back to the trail, Dr. McKay following right behind. The colonel set a brisk pace, and they arrived back at the jumper within an hour.

Teyla settled into her usual seat with both relief and anticipation. Though she knew it was unlikely that they would find Aiden this way, she still hoped. And it felt good to continue the search, rather than waiting, inactive.

"Huh," Dr. McKay said, a half breath before Colonel Sheppard's "What the--"

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"McKay, what the hell is wrong with my ship?"

Dr. McKay was already pulling compartments open. "Shut up, I'm working on it."

"It's not responding at all," Colonel Sheppard said a bit desperately.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," McKay snapped back. "If you could just be quiet--"

Teyla sat forward as he fell silent. Sheppard also leaned toward him.

"Oh no," Dr. McKay said in a small voice.

"Rodney?"

Dr. McKay slumped in his chair, looking defeated. When he faced the colonel, she could see his jaw clench and release before he started speaking. "That idiot took the main power crystals. The jumper isn't responding because there's no conceivable way for it to draw power from, oh, I don't know, thin air!"

"Who? Ford?" Sheppard asked incredulously. Teyla found it difficult to believe as well.

"Yes, Ford," McKay snapped. "Unless some as-yet-unseen forest elf pranced in here using his convenient remote and mysteriously knew which fucking crystals to take to maroon us on Gilligan's planet!"

Teyla frowned. The situation did not make sense. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"What, do I look like Carnac the Magnificent?"

"No turban," Colonel Sheppard murmured, then rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. "He said he wanted us to stay here. Ford is really making it difficult to rescue his ass."

"Rescuing is not the word I'm thinking of," Dr. McKay said darkly. "Those crystals are ten thousand years old at the very least. You can't just go tossing them around like a football--"

"Rodney," Sheppard broke in, "can you fix it?"

Dr. McKay gaped at him. "What do you want me to do, lick the wires? We have no batteries."

"Batteries?" she asked.

"There's no work-around?" Colonel Sheppard asked at the same time. "A secondary system maybe, something with a separate power supply you could cannibalize?"

Dr. McKay sighed and rubbed at the spot between his eyebrows. "I'll try," he said. "But you have to understand what this means. The odds are very small that I'll be able to find an alternative power source, and even if I do it probably won't be enough to get the jumper off the ground."

"I have faith in you, Rodney," Sheppard said seriously.

McKay stood up, waving his hands at the colonel. "While that's very touching, it doesn't really help me any. I'll just be over here, planning out my retirement in our lovely little villa while I work on pulling a miracle out of my ass." He stalked to the back of the jumper, but paused to glance back at them. "Again."

Teyla watched him pull panels open, short, jerky motions that accompanied the rhythm of his mutterings. Like the colonel, she too had faith that, like so many times before, he would find a solution to their problem.

"I'm going out," Sheppard said. "Ford's got to be around somewhere."

Teyla stared at him incredulously, not understanding the logic that brought him to that conclusion, but decided not to say anything. She understood his restless need to do something while Dr. McKay worked. She stood, ready to join him.

He shook his head. "Stay here," he told her quietly. "Look after McKay while he's got his head buried."

"Are you certain you will be all right alone?"

"I'll be fine," he assured her as he opened the hatch, then left without another word.

Teyla stared after him, watching until he disappeared through the trees. She hoped he would keep himself safe. She took a deep breath of the green-heavy air, and turned her attention back to the jumper.

"Is there anything I can do to assist you?" she asked McKay.

"Hand me a PowerBar, would you?"

She smiled and dug one out of the packs. He tore the package open and ate with little attention. She sat for a while, just watching him. He had his thumb pressed against his teeth, intent on the display in front of him. Occasionally he would leap into frenetic activity, prodding various parts of the ship and moving clips and wires. He reminded her of a young child with a new puzzle, endlessly fascinated with the challenge.

After a while, she got up and paced the perimeter. It was as calm as before--the sighing of the trees and the gentle swish of the grasses in the breeze, an occasional call from an animal, and the constant insects flitting about. She told herself that Colonel Sheppard had his radio, and that he had not been gone very long at all. Perhaps even now he was talking with Aiden, joking about the misunderstanding as they returned to the jumper.

And perhaps she could teach herself to fly without a ship.

She snorted softly and reentered the jumper. Dr. McKay was in one of his thinking phases, so she passed by him as quietly as she was able. Irritation started to eat at her as she stared out the front viewscreen. She disliked waiting; waiting while others worked, she hated intensely.

To pass the time, she opened the storage compartments and pulled out the extra supplies. She counted MRE's and protein bars. She sorted them into piles, then sorted them into different piles. There was enough to last them about a week, perhaps longer if they rationed carefully.

"It doesn't make sense," Dr. McKay said out of the blue.

Teyla looked up from the first aid supplies she had spread out on the floor. "I am sorry?"

He kept his gaze on the computer screen as he answered. "Like you said, it doesn't make sense. Why would Ford want to strand us on the planet? Has he gone completely nuts, or is he just keeping us for a snack like a Wraith?"

Teyla shrugged as she searched for an answer. "Perhaps there is some danger we are unaware of, and he is trying to protect us."

He laughed, a short, unhappy burst of sound. "Yes, because that's such a great plan. Leave your team behind while you go off and get yourself killed. Must be contagious."

She shook her head as she picked at the corner of one of the foil-wrapped packages. Dr. McKay was obviously still unhappy about Sheppard's attempted self-sacrifice against the hive ship. She had thought that was behind them, but perhaps certain issues had been buried by their need to find Aiden. "I doubt that Aiden has placed himself at risk, and I do not think that he means us ill. He said he would come back."

Dr. McKay looked up to meet her gaze for the first time since he began working. She wondered what he was thinking; he seemed to be searching her face for something.

"I hope so," he said, and then returned to his work. "It'd be just my luck to have him show up two seconds after I figure this thing out."

She smiled. Dr. McKay fell silent again, and she continued counting bottles and bandages. When she was finished, she returned the supplies to the storage area. Then she went outside to check the perimeter again.

The sun was starting to set. She tapped her radio, her anxiety tightly controlled. "Colonel Sheppard," she called.

"What's up, Teyla?"

She let herself smile widely, sharing her relief at his immediate reply with the vast blue sky. "Are you well?"

"Fine," he answered in a clipped tone. "Has McKay figured it out yet?"

Teyla frowned. Obviously, he had not found Aiden. "I am uncertain," she told him. "But I do not believe so."

The channel fell silent. Teyla debated asking him his whereabouts, but decided to let him be. Her patience was rewarded not ten minutes later, when he emerged from the tree line. His stride was quick and forceful, but his face was calm as he stepped into the jumper. He squatted beside Dr. McKay.

"Rodney?"

Dr. McKay looked up, surprised but not startled. He sighed and tried to rise, but had some difficulty navigating through the numerous wires and parts strewn about. Colonel Sheppard took his hand and pulled, and together they cleared him from the mess. Dr. McKay's eyes slid towards her as he stretched his arms overhead before returning to the colonel.

"I've tested each of the relays," he said at last. "There's a separate power source that runs the minor systems. Lights, hatch, displays, so on and so forth."

Sheppard nodded, gesturing for McKay to go on when he hesitated. The doctor rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, and Teyla had an urge to rub out the stiffness that must surely be there.

"I know what you want to hear, Colonel, and it just isn't going to happen. If I even try to hook the main drive up to the secondary source, there's a ninety-percent chance it will blow the crystal into itty-bitty shards."

The colonel's jaw clenched as he stared out the back of the shuttle. She could see him very deliberately make himself relax, taking a deep breath and uncrossing his arms before he turned his attention back to Dr. McKay. "What happens the other ten percent of the time?"

Dr. McKay twirled a finger in the air. "We get enough power to lift about ten feet off the ground."

"So, not an option. Okay, then," Colonel Sheppard said decisively. "Concentrate on the alternatives. Can we build something? Maybe refine some crystals from the planet?"

"You want to stick rocks in a piece of the most advanced technology in the universe?" Dr. McKay crossed his arms, throwing his head back as he got into his rant. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you not realize that your favorite toy was a little bit beyond the rest of the Linkin Logs and Legos in your box? We don't even know where the Ancients got the crystals, whether they're natural or laboratory-created. But no, you're right. Let's just start tossing sand around and see if we get glass."

Sheppard glared. "Are you finished? I'm just throwing stuff out here, McKay," he snapped. "It's called brainstorming. I thought you science types were supposed to be familiar with the concept."

Dr. McKay turned away, and when he turned back, anxiety leapt inside her. His face was completely open, his eyes wide and worried. "Sometimes an equation is unsolvable," he said.

Colonel Sheppard walked to the front of the ship. He leaned against the back of his seat, bracing his hands on the headrest. Dr. McKay took a half-step forward, but then stopped and returned to his work. Teyla felt lost and useless.

"All right," Sheppard said. "We'll bed down here for the night, and tackle it fresh in the morning. It's not as bad as it seems. Ford will be back soon, I'll ream him a new one, and then we'll get the hell off of this planet." He turned back to them composed and confident.

Teyla nodded. Dr. McKay looked up, meeting the colonel's eyes for a long moment before he began fiddling with wires again.

John looked up from the slide of his pistol, working the cloth by touch alone as he watched Teyla cross through the field of grass. She followed the thin line that their feet had worn over the last two days. He would have expected it to be trampled by now, but the stuff was amazingly resilient, popping back up even after three pairs of feet had smashed it down. Little butterfly-things were fluttering about, darting in toward Teyla every now and then. All in all it reminded him of something out of a fabric softener commercial--perfectly sunny day, light breeze weaving through the grassy plain, beautiful woman communing with nature. Too bad he wasn't here on vacation.

As she drew closer, John could see that Teyla's hair was still wet, and her clothes clung to her in damp patches. She had a wide smile on her face, though, obviously happy to be clean after several days without bathing. He'd never known a woman who liked staying dirty, even if she didn't mind getting that way in the first place.

"How's the water?" he called as she neared the jumper.

"Invigorating, Colonel," she answered, her smile turning a little coy. "I am certain you will enjoy it."

Which probably meant it was two degrees above freezing. Teyla had a mischievous streak a mile wide, but she liked to keep it hidden under placid looks and soothing aphorisms. He glanced back down at his pistol, trying to hide his own smile.

"Uh-huh," he said as he snapped the slide back into place. "You know, you could call me John."

She set her pack down just inside the entrance, tensing slightly as she noticed Rodney for the first time. Teyla was always so controlled, even when she was surprised. Rodney didn't pay her any mind, hunched over the screen he'd been frowning at all morning. John smiled at Teyla as she gracefully sat on the opposite side of the open hatch.

"I would be honored to do so," she said, and it took John a moment to catch back up to the conversation. "But would it be appropriate?"

"I don't see why not," he said wryly. "It's not like I'll be military much longer, even if we do make it back."

Teyla recoiled, even if her muscles didn't move an inch. John sighed.

"Oh, please," Rodney snapped. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you'll still be military."

He looked back at Rodney, wondering exactly what he'd ever done to earn such unflinching support from a man who professed to see incompetence and doom in everyone and everything. Perversely, that support made him feel even more prickly. John nodded amiably, indulging in his pessimism.

"You're right," he agreed. "I'll just be in the brig, stripped of rank, while the rest of you wait for the Wraith to take you out."

"You cannot be serious," Teyla said sharply, and John felt guilty for bringing it up when he had only been trying to relax some of the boundaries between them.

"He's not," Rodney said scathingly. "Elizabeth would never allow such a thing."

John shrugged. Personally, he thought Elizabeth might be the one pushing for the brig. He'd undermined her authority a little too often in the past. "Maybe, maybe not. Unfortunately, she doesn't really have any say in the matter. But," he said, hoping to steer the conversation back to his original point, "let's not worry about it. Just call me John. Both of you."

Rodney ignored his efforts, huffing as he stood up. "I'm getting sick of this martyr complex," he said, picking up his pack and pushing forward. John had to quickly swing his feet out of the way as he stomped through.

"So if you'll excuse me, Colonel, I'm going to wash. Maybe by the time I get back you'll have recovered your brains."

John watched Rodney stalk away, swiping irritably at the grass every other step. He turned back to his pistol, giving it a frustrated rub. When he looked back up, Teyla was watching him, clearly concerned.

"Were you telling the truth, Colonel? Will you be put in prison when we return?"

John holstered his gun, then sat forward to look her in the eyes. "Don't worry about it, Teyla. It's a possibility, but it's nothing I haven't faced before. I knew what the consequences could be when we decided to do this. If my career is what it takes to get Ford home, safe and sound, then that's what it takes. I'd do the same for you or Rodney." He held her gaze until she slowly nodded. He pulled out his friendliest grin, the one he saved for first dates and first encounters with aliens. "And it's John remember? There's no reason you should call me colonel, anyway. It's not like you have to kowtow to the US Armed Forces."

She raised an eyebrow, but nodded again. "John, then. Thank you."

"Great, Teyla. That sounds much better."

She smiled back at him, but then a pensive look crossed her face. "Dr. McKay thinks you should be addressed by your rank, and he is not military either."

John snorted. "That's just Rodney being Rodney. He's trying to reassure me in his own way. Don't worry about it."

She cocked her head at him, looking at him in that way that made him feel like she had about thirty years on him. "Dr. McKay is a very caring man," she said, "though he often tries to appear otherwise."

"That he is," John agreed. He pointed a finger at her. "And you should drop that doctor business. It's bad for his ego. Call him Rodney."

Teyla shook her head. "I could not do that without his permission. It would be–-impolite."

John frowned. Sometimes he forgot that different customs weren't just about harvest festivals or religious beliefs. Small things set cultures apart, and he should know that after spending his life all over the globe. Hell, the military was its own separate world, and he knew that non-military often had trouble understanding their unique way of doing things. But he always felt so easy with Teyla that he tended to forget those differences.

"Is that why you've never called me John?" He leaned back when she nodded, running a hand through his hair. He grimaced at the oily feel of it. "I'm sorry. Some day you're going to beat it into me how different we are."

She smiled widely. "I have hopes of that eventuality, but I am a realist."

He laughed. "Ouch. No fair picking on the slow guy." He picked up his kit, really feeling the need to degrease. "That water had better be toasty warm."

Teyla just cocked an eyebrow. John laughed again, then headed off toward the pool Teyla had discovered.

Rodney frowned at his shirt. The polymer was highly stain-resistant, which was generally a good thing, but it also tended to resist soap and water--at least when being scrubbed by hand. The military-issue soap wasn't a very effective surfactant, which didn't help the task. He frowned at his shirt some more, decided that didn't accomplish anything, and lifted it for the sniff test.

It'd do.

He squeezed as much water out as could and then hung it over a branch next to his trousers and boxers. Grabbing the all-purpose soap securely, he waded into the slow-running pool. The water was chilly, but not frigid. Enough to make parts curl up and whimper at the first touch, but not so bad that he had to rush through the process. He dunked himself to get used to the temperature as quickly as possible.

Something rustled in the underbrush. Rodney looked up, his heart speeding. It was probably a wild animal. Quite possibly a wolf, or a bear, or a wolf-bear. Whatever it was, it was probably large with big teeth and sharp claws, and very, very hungry, and he was naked in the middle of a stream with his gun out of reach. John and Teyla would find his remains later, bloody and bloated and naked, and wouldn't that be embarrassing on top of everything else.

Then spiky black hair appeared through the branches, and Rodney barely swallowed back a hysterical giggle. "Thank you so much for sneaking up while I'm completely vulnerable," he yelled.

John pushed the last branches aside, already smirking. "You're not some mythical Greek goddess, McKay. Relax." Then he dropped his pack on one of the large rocks and started stripping.

Rodney turned away and squeezed out some soap for his hair. He still wasn't used to Sheppard's casual attitude toward nudity. He supposed it was a military thing--Ford wasn't shy about skinny-dipping when necessary, either. But Ford was quick and efficient, while John paraded around like he didn't have a care in the world. It made it difficult to stick to locker-room etiquette. Right now, John was busy cussing and whimpering about the water temperature, muttering something about Teyla. Rodney was definitely glad that military casualness didn't extend to both sexes; he didn't know how he'd handle Teyla naked. It was easier with men–there weren't different parts that naturally drew the eye. Of course, that meant it was more dangerous if the eye did wander over those similar parts.

"You still pissed at me, Rodney?"

John's question was soft, but it came from almost directly behind him. Rodney had a good lather worked up in his hair. He turned with one hand still on his head, guarding his eyes from the suds. "What? I'm not pissed at you. Why would you think that?"

John rolled his eyes as he scrubbed soap across his chest, dog tags dangling across his hands. "Gee, Rodney, I don't know. Something about a martyr complex and missing brains?"

Rodney waved his free hand, amused when the motion flicked soap suds at John. "Yes, well, I was just stating the facts."

John smiled. "And you do like your facts, don't you."

He ducked under the water, and Rodney moved on to soap his underarms. John reemerged spluttering as water streamed from his hair into his face. Rodney dunked as well, working his fingers through his hair. He came back up and swiped the water from his eyes, to find John watching him thoughtfully.

"What?" he asked, suddenly paranoid that he'd picked up a leech or something equally horrifying.

"I know you have issues with using my name," John said, and Rodney blinked, trying to figure out how to respond to that when he wasn't even sure whether it was true. John didn't wait for him. "But you should talk to Teyla. We've been overlooking the fact that she won't call us by our given names unless we give her permission."

"Huh," he said in a fit of brilliance. "That's..." He stopped, trying to reorder his thoughts. "I've never given it any thought. I hear my title so often it just seemed natural."

John nodded as he shampooed his hair. He looked completely ridiculous. Ridiculous worked for John, though. "Yeah, I know," he said. "Just think about it."

"Yes, of course," Rodney replied absently. He'd have to talk to Teyla later, though it seemed like an awkward conversation to have. Later, after he got a definitive picture of the secondary power system. He'd let Radek take over puddlejumper systems early on, and while he of course kept up with Zelenka's reports, he wasn't as familiar with them as he needed to be now.

"You going to stay in all day?"

"Hmm?" Rodney asked, then realized that yes, he was still pruning up as he stood there thinking. "Right," he said, and headed to shore. He hated this part. No matter how careful he was, he always wound up with sand or mud in his socks. Too bad the SGC hadn't thought to include flip-flops in their supplies.

He toweled off, his thoughts bouncing between problems with athlete's foot and power supplies. John splashed out of the pool beside him.

"Have you done your weapon maintenance lately?"

Rodney brushed a hand in John's direction as he concentrated on getting cleanish feet into clean trousers.

"McKay."

"Yes, yes, I'll get to it."

"Be sure you do."

He looked up at John and smiled. "I will."

John smiled back as he dressed. Rodney had always preferred to manage all the small details of his life, especially since most of the people who tried to do it for him were idiots, but he had to admit that sometimes, it was nice to know there were people looking out for him.

Aiden paused outside the jumper hatch, taking a breath to settle his nerves. He'd been jumpy as hell lately, worked up for no good reason. Well, infiltrating a hive ship was a good reason, but the jitters were still hanging on even after he'd gotten away clean. He must be nervous about seeing the team again, especially after the way he'd left last time. Aiden smiled; the major'd be pissed, but McKay was the one who would strip his hide.

He pulled out his battered remote, hoping the thing still worked. He hit the fancy garage door opener and the hatch lowered.

The weak light of dawn was at just the right angle to light up the interior. Teyla was kneeling, P90 ready, and Major Sheppard was coming to his feet with his pistol aimed. Dr. McKay struggled with his sleeping bag. Aiden held up his hands, but he couldn't stop his grin.

"Ford! Get in here and explain yourself!"

Aiden ducked his head and stepped forward. Yep, the major was pissed. At least he'd lowered the gun. "Hey, guys."

"Lieutenant, stop with the pretty faces and tell me what's going on," the major ranted.

"Yes, and where are the power crystals?" Dr. McKay asked.

Aiden glanced at Teyla, who was watching him carefully. He sighed and knelt beside her, hoping that the tension that was itching at him would go away once he got everybody else soothed down. "Things are a little hairy right now," he started. "I just thought it would be safer for y'all to chill out for a bit. Think of it as vacation a la Ford."

He could tell the major wasn't buying anything he was selling.

"I'm not interested in a vacation," the major said, slow and cutting in that way that said he was about three seconds from losing it. Aiden remembered him using that tone with Bob right before emptying two clips.

Aiden raised his hands, reaching to adjust his cover before he remembered he wasn't wearing one. He scratched his head instead. "There's a Wraith fleet one system over, and they're going to pass through the edges of this one soon. It's not safe for you guys to use the gate."

"What?" Dr. McKay shouted.

"That's all the more reason to get out of here now, before they get here," the major said. He sounded calmer, but Aiden watched his piece just the same. "And we need to get that intelligence back to Atlantis."

"I'm sorry, sir," Aiden said, rising to his feet. He had a plan, and he needed to stick to it even if it pissed off his team. Besides, there were other issues to consider. "I can't go back. They did a little something to me, and I need a shot of their go-juice too often to get out of range."

Right now, he was pumped full of the stuff, but it wouldn't last long. He'd stolen a bunch of the vials the first time he'd figured out he needed it, but it didn't keep after about thirty-six hours. As far as he could tell, he was stuck hunting Wraith for the rest of his life.

"Juice?" Dr. McKay asked in that snooty way he had. "What, you need your morning shot of Wraith-ade to go with your Wheaties?"

Aiden sniggered. "Good one, Doc. Nah, I don't know, it's some kind of shot they hook the foot soldiers on." He glanced at Teyla, who still hadn't said anything. He wondered what she thought of him now that he'd been tinkered with by the Wraith. He supposed it gave them something in common. "My grandma'd be pissed if she found out I came all this way to wind up a junkie."

The major shifted forward, and Aiden snapped into a defensive position. He relaxed a little as Sheppard held up his hands, but that tension was back, stronger than ever.

"Relax, Ford," the major said. "We can take care of it. Just come on back to Atlantis with us. Beckett'll have a solution whipped up in no time."

Aiden knew a line when he heard one. Hell, they'd been trained in OCS on how and when to supply the best bullshit. He looked at Dr. McKay, who was frowning like he knew it was bull, too. Teyla was just kneeling there, all placid and calm like nothing could touch her.

"No can do, sir," he said, shaking his head. "I've got a tactical advantage with the Wraith that we can't afford to waste."

"You are fighting the Wraith by yourself?" Teyla asked, her voice rising incredulously.

Aiden shook his head. He hadn't thought she'd be the one to doubt him. "Just raids, enough to keep them smarting," he explained. "They never know I'm there until it's too late."

"That is incredible," Teyla said, her voice all breathy now, and Aiden grinned at her.

"Yeah, that's peachy," the major broke in. "Caldwell will dance the hokey-pokey when he finds out. So let's go home and come up with a plan."

Sheppard was looking dangerous again, and it got his hackles up something fierce. Aiden didn't know who Caldwell was, but he didn't see how anybody who hadn't been fighting the Wraith like he had could understand. He backed up, deciding that talking was getting him nowhere. He'd come back later when the team had a chance to think about what he was trying to do.

That's when the major made his move.

Reflexes took over, and Sheppard was flying through the air, bouncing off the control panel at the front of the ship before sliding to the ground. He was out of commission, and Aiden turned his attention to the next threat. Teyla stepped in front of him, between himself and the other men.

"What are you doing, Aiden?"

She was all fluid and tight at the same time, those awesome muscles shifting like a big cat's. He couldn't let her get the drop on him.

"You can't make me go back," he told her, watching and waiting, letting his muscles and instincts do their job.

Teyla shook her head. "And I cannot allow you to leave us."

He moved even as she kicked out, spinning away and out of range of those strong legs. She dodged his first blow, like he'd known she would, but he landed the second square to the back of her head. She dropped with a quiet thud. He nodded, satisfied that he'd taken her out with as little damage as possible.

Aiden assessed the situation. Dr. McKay was gaping, no threat, but he might pull something anyway.

"Don't try it, Doc," he warned.

Dr. McKay raised his hands. Aiden nodded, then backed out of the jumper. He set off at a quick trot. He didn't feel nearly as tense or jittery as he had before, though he was frustrated by the way things had turned out. He respected the major, he really did, but Sheppard just couldn't get his head around the harsh realities of war sometimes. Not like a Marine was trained to do. But Aiden would cut the guys some slack. They'd come around once they realized what he was trying to do was the best course of action. In the mean time, they'd have some good down time in a safe place.

Aiden jogged on, feeling better every step.

Rodney debated going after Ford for all of a half-second before he turned back to the more urgent situation. He wasted another half-second dithering about who to go to first, the word 'triage' echoing in his head without meaning until he forced his feet towards Teyla. She had a pulse, she was breathing, and that was all he could determine. He left her and moved on to John.

John was tangled between the front seats of the jumper, his head resting awkwardly against the console. Rodney thought he might vomit, but the feeling passed, leaving him in a fog of calm. He squatted down, bracing himself against the arm rest of John's chair as he reached out to touch John's neck.

Long eyelashes fluttered just as he found a strongly beating pulse. His own heart rate kicked up in response. He left his hand against John's warm skin as he breathed deeply, trying to calm down. John moaned, opening his eyes fully, and Rodney drew back.

"John."

John's eyes were all pupil. He couldn't tell in the dim light if they were equal or not. He needed a light, something to check their reactivity. He started to stand, but John grabbed his wrist.

"Ford," he said, blinking rapidly.

Rodney gaped for a second. "No," he said. "Colonel--"

"McKay," John said as he struggled to sit, "help me up and tell me what happened to Ford."

"Wait, you probably shouldn't move," he said, panicking a little as flashes of worst-case scenarios from emergency methods classes popped into his head. He caught John's shoulder, but the colonel latched onto his arm and started pulling. Rodney was forced to stand or wind up in a heap on top of John.

"Too late for that," John muttered as they awkwardly maneuvered upward. He swayed against Rodney, strong fingers digging into Rodney's triceps for support. Gradually John's grip loosened, and Rodney stepped back, still watching him carefully.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "You lost consciousness for several minutes, you might have a concussion, or even hemorrhaging, not to mention other internal injuries that I really, really have no clue about despite the fact that you probably expect me to know--"

"I'm fine, Rodney," John growled. He took a step forward, forcing Rodney into a shuffling retreat. John stopped suddenly. "Teyla?"

Rodney turned, relief supplanted by worry once again. "She's alive," he said. "But I can't tell anything else."

John knelt stiffly and began running his hands over her body. Any other time, Rodney would have accused him of feeling her up. John sat back on his heels, the skin around his eyes pulled tight. "Where's Ford?"

Rodney shrugged. "Is she okay?"

John stood up, patting at his vest pockets and checking the gun in his thigh holster. "How long ago did he leave?"

"Maybe five minutes," he answered. It felt like longer, but he knew it wasn't. "What about Teyla?"

"I don't know," John said, already marching toward the rear of the jumper.

"Wait, what are you doing? Ford just tossed you around like loose change and you're going after him? You're obviously concussed. Sit down and think for a minute."

"Stow it, Rodney," John said, too mildly. "Stay with Teyla. I'll be back soon." Then he took off across the clearing, a nightmare come to life.

"Colonel!" Rodney shouted. "Don't you dare do this to me again!"

John held up his hand briefly before disappearing into the trees.

"Fuck!"

He slid down the side of the jumper, dropping his head into his hands. A gnat of some kind buzzed around his ear and he swatted at it absently. The way things were going, it would turn out to be a super-bee with a penchant for astrophysicists. He took a deep breath and resolved to put John out of his thoughts. There was no question of going after him; Teyla was completely vulnerable.

"Right," he muttered. He heaved himself up, feeling drained even though the day had hardly started. He returned to Teyla's side, hesitating just a bit before he tapped her lightly on the cheek. She moaned and grimaced.

"Oh, thank god," he breathed as she opened her eyes. A tendril of hair lay across her face, and without stopping to think he brushed it aside. "How do you feel? Do you remember anything? What's my name? Wait, what's your name?"

She blinked repeatedly, and he forced himself to be quiet. She moaned again as she struggled to sit up. He put his arm behind her back as she settled onto her elbows. She kept blinking rapidly, looking at him as if she were having difficulty seeing.

"I am Teyla Emmagan," she answered, her voice as strong as always. "You are Dr. Rodney McKay, and I feel like an ocholon kicked me in the head."

Rodney snorted with relief more than anything. "Yes, well I have no idea what that is, but it's probably not far from the truth. Do you remember what happened?"

Teyla began nodding, but then reached for her head. He tried to coax her back down to the deck, but she wouldn't let him. She was at least as stubborn as John.

"Yes," she said dully. She looked around the jumper, turning her head slowly and carefully. "Colonel Sheppard?"

Rodney held himself still as fury returned. "The idiot went after Ford," he ground out.

Teyla frowned. "Help me up," she said, reaching for his arm. They stood in a maneuver slightly more graceful than the one he and John had performed minutes ago. The whole morning had been one horrible moment of deja vu after another. "We must go to him," she said. "Aiden is not himself."

"That's the understatement of the year," he said under his breath. He looked her over, trying to decide if she was really okay. It would be reckless to go after John if it endangered Teyla in the process, no matter how much he wanted to do so. "Are you sure you can do this?"

Teyla smiled weakly. Her hair was mussed and she still squinted slightly. He also thought she was leaning to one side. "Yes." She paused, then added, "Aiden is much stronger than he used to be."

Rodney nodded. He'd noticed that fact when John went flying through the air. "Like a Wraith."

Teyla started to bend down, but stopped halfway. He spotted her P90 and reluctantly handed it to her. She took it without a word, her face set in determination. Rodney resettled his own P90 and headed out the hatch.

The sun was bright, well on its climb to the zenith, and the morning air was warmed to a slight stickiness. The tall grass was at its itchy worst, and the small gnats buzzed constantly. All the irritations faded to petty annoyances in the back of his mind, as they always did when he was focused on a problem. There was no need to track anyone; John had to be heading to the ship clearing.

The shelter clearing looked empty, but then again, it had seemed that way when Ford stunned them. He looked at Teyla again, but she was shielding her eyes from the sun and made no move to direct him. Rodney took a deep breath and headed into the open.

Branches rustled as they approached the second tree line, thus far unhindered. Rodney raised his gun, his hands sweaty and his gut rumbling uncomfortably. John emerged a second later. Rodney dropped his gun to the side with a very grateful sigh. A large red spot was s tarting to darken across John's jawline, and he was moving with a stutter step. Otherwise, he looked in one piece.

"Ford?" Rodney asked.

John shook his head. "Got there in time to see him take off in a dart."

The thought of one of their own blithely using Wraith technology left a bitter taste in Rodney's mouth. "Isn't that nice," he said.

"Are you two okay?" John asked.

"Fine, fine," Rodney said, waving aside his concern, then looked back to make sure Teyla was still there. He saw her start to nod, and then she just sort of...listed to the side.

"Teyla!" John shouted. They both jumped forward, but Rodney was closer. He managed to get under her before she met the ground.

"Damn it," John swore, kneeling beside them. He tapped Teyla's face lightly. She flinched but didn't wake. "Did she vomit earlier? Complain of double vision?"

Rodney shook his head. He shifted Teyla, cradling her against his chest. "No, she said her head hurt and that was it. I think she was bothered by the light, though."

"All right," John said as he rose into a squat. "Let's get her into the shack."

Together, they managed to get her into John's arms. She hardly weighed as much as a naquadah generator. Rodney jogged ahead and pushed through the flimsy door of the hut, holding it open as John carefully squeezed through.

"Can you go get the supplies? Some bedding and the med kit?" John asked.

Rodney left without a word. This time, he ran.

Something cold brushed her face, wet and very irritating. She swiped at it, but her hand was caught in a warm grip before she could wipe the damp away. She pulled back, and the hand let her go.

"Teyla," someone called softly.

She scrubbed at her cheek. A damp cloth rested against the back of her head, wrapping around to touch her face. She pushed it aside and opened her eyes. John and Dr. McKay hovered above her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice slightly roughened.

John smiled, but it seemed sad somehow. "Not anymore."

Her mouth was dry, and her head ached fiercely. She pushed herself up, both John and Dr. McKay reaching out to assist her. They were in a shadowed room, and she finally realized it was the same rustic shelter that they had passed the night in that first night on the planet.

"I fainted?"

Dr. McKay smiled. "Passed out," he said, then his eyebrows pulled down, his mouth taking a sharp turn to the side. "What do you remember?"

She squinted at him. "This is becoming repetitive."

"Well if you would stop passing out, it wouldn't be an issue," he said mildly, his voice thick and softer than his usual sharp tones.

"Rodney," John said softly. "What do you remember, Teyla?"

She sighed and laid back on the bedding. The throbbing in her head eased as she did so, but she was very tired. "Aiden attacked us, then you went after him alone, and Dr. McKay and I followed. You were unable to stop him," she finished, closing her eyes as the memory returned. She was worried for Aiden, but so very angry with him as well.

Somebody shook her shoulder.

"Stay with us, Teyla," John said. She opened her eyes to see him waving his hand in her face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two," she said tiredly.

He nodded. "I think you have a concussion. A brain bruise," he added, as if she did not know what that meant. "You need to stay awake."

She raised a hand to cover her eyes, already annoyed by the headache. "I shall endeavor to do so, but I do not promise to be pleasant."

They both laughed. "Well, hell, Teyla," John said. "You can't be any worse than McKay."

"Oh, ha ha," Dr. McKay shot back. "Just because some of us don't feel the need to seduce everything in our path, we get labeled misanthropes."

"Bring out the big words, Rodney. It doesn't change anything."

"Please," she said sharply. She tried to gentle her tone. "Could you speak more softly?"

"Oh sorry, sorry," Dr. McKay whispered loudly. John squeezed her shoulder. They stood and walked away, the scuff of their shoes loud across the floor. They resumed their conversation, but now it was the mere rise and fall of distant male voices, soothing rather than stabbing.

She drifted, the pull of sleep nearly irresistible. She kept jerking awake, trying not to fall asleep. The sound of voices grew louder, strident. She opened her eyes in time to see John storm out of the hut, the rickety door shaking in his wake. Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched Dr. McKay watching the door, his whole body stiff and poised as if for a fight.

"Is there a problem?"

He turned his head toward her, but his eyes took a moment to leave whatever they were watching. "Ah, good, you're still awake," he said finally, and then turned away from her to occupy himself with something on the floor.

Teyla clenched her back teeth, but that aggravated the pain in her head. She breathed through her nose, then relaxed her jaw and let the air flow out her mouth. "At what point did you determine that I was brain-damaged?"

Dr. McKay spun around, his eyes wide. "What?"

"I was unaware that you considered me of insufficient intelligence to grasp whatever situation has occurred."

He gaped at her in a most satisfying way--until he shook his head once. "Please. I consider everyone but myself to be of insufficient intelligence to grasp much of anything."

She waited, but he did not add anything. "So then you should be used to explaining yourself to others," she prompted. "What has happened?"

Dr. McKay sighed, tossing the protein bar in his hand to the ground. "Colonel Sheppard is having some difficulty grasping the hard truths of our situation. He's off taking a little stroll through the park while I play the good wife back here."

The wife? =she wanted to ask, but Teyla reminded herself not to get distracted by Dr. McKay's idiosyncrasies. She rubbed her eyes as she asked, "And what are the hard truths of the situation?"

"I was getting to that," he muttered, but Teyla recognized another stalling tactic. That was unusual; in the past he had been more than forthright about the details of their endangerment. She waited impatiently as he turned to face her. He sat down awkwardly next to the sleeping bag.

"Fact," he said sharply. "Lieutenant Ford has taken the power supply to the jumper. Fact: The stargate is in orbit around the planet. Fact: No one on Atlantis knows where we are." He sighed again, then met her eyes. "Fact: Lieutenant Ford is highly unstable, to the point of being dangerous to our own well-being. Fact: I cannot make the jumper fly without those power crystals."

He paused, tilting his head backwards as the corner of his mouth dipped into a bitter, twisted smile before he looked back at her, face serious. "Supposition: We are stuck here for the rest of our natural lives unless Lieutenant Ford comes to his senses."

Teyla frowned. "But surely Dr. Weir will send a team after us. Even if--"

He huffed. "Yes, of course Elizabeth will send a team. But it was pure chance that we found the right gate address in the first place. If the colonel hadn't talked to that boy, if he hadn't mentioned the forbidden addresses, if I hadn't been smart enough to figure out how to dial star sixty-nine, if Ford hadn't just been through the gate in the last day, we wouldn't even be here. The odds are astronomical that the same chain of events will occur to lead them to us."

It was a strange sensation. Realization broke apart, hitting different parts of her body in drawn-out moments. First her breath locked in her chest, then a tingling chill crawled up her lower back. The tips of her fingers felt huge and extraordinarily sensitive. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she laid back down to wait it out.

"Surely Aiden will return," she said faintly.

"Yes, that is a possibility," Dr. McKay agreed, but she could tell he did not believe it.

She swallowed heavily. Her thoughts spun and looped. Halling and her people, who had already grown too distant, would be lost to her forever. They would be dependent on the good will of Dr. Weir and the Earthers, without Teyla to intercede when tempers grew hot.

She turned her head to the side, blinking away wetness. Aiden would not abandon them, even if their encounter earlier had not gone well. She could not, would not believe that he would. They might be on this world longer than they had originally foreseen, but that could be dealt with. Later, when she felt better, she would make plans to see them through until Aiden returned.

John eased the door shut, though his care didn't really matter. Both Teyla and Rodney watched him--no sneaking back in this evening. Teyla was propped up against one of the bedrolls. She looked tired, and in pain, but more alert than she had been when he'd left.

Rodney just looked pissed.

John sighed. He couldn't blame Rodney at all. He'd left his teammates behind, not once but twice, and he knew that Rodney hated him for it. It was a damned irresponsible thing to do, and John would have reamed any soldier good in his place. Rodney was going the silent route, however, which John had found to be much more effective than any in-the-face lecture he'd ever received.

"How're you feeling, Teyla?"

She smiled slightly, a polite lift of her lips that did nothing to convey happiness. "Better, although my head still hurts."

John nodded as he knelt beside her. He grasped her chin and tilted her head toward the light, waiting as she fought against the instinct to close her eyes. Her pupils looked even, thank goodness. He hadn't been sure before. A minor concussion, if that.

He sat back on the gritty floor, a small groan escaping as his own bruises made themselves known. He was tempted to find one of the cool packs from the med kit and curl up in his sleeping bag, but there were still things to be done.

"Let's talk about options," he announced. Silence answered him. Teyla inclined her head, obviously waiting. He didn't bother to look at Rodney; John could feel the force of his glare like a sunburn on his back. "O-kay. So. McKay doesn't think he can get the jumper flyable. So we try something else. Can we make some kind of beacon, some way we can alert Atlantis to our whereabouts?"

Rodney threw up his hands. "Yes, good, let's hang up a neon sign flashing 'free all-you-can-eat buffet' for the Wraith. Any other stupid ideas you'd like to share? Because really, I'm just warming up. Two for the price of one, I'll be here all night."

John grit his teeth, trying not to lash back. Rodney rarely aimed the worst of his cutting remarks at John, and he'd forgotten how irritating it could be. It didn't help that he should have thought of the Wraith threat himself.

"Fine," he said. "What about boosting the remote dial, getting a quick signal through that way?"

"That's--" and Rodney paused, his face going slack with thought, and John knew he had him. "A good idea, actually. If," he said, raising a warning finger, "if I can actually do it, which is a very big if. There's still the power issue, and it's not without danger. Ford said the Wraith will be close soon."

Ford. John rubbed a hand over his eyes, careful to steer around the puffy area under his cheekbone. He was more than amazed the blow hadn't broken his jaw, let alone knocked out any teeth. Yet another rescue mission gone horribly wrong. At least he hadn't woken an entire species of man-hunting aliens this time.

"Good enough," he told Rodney. "Just worry about making it work."

Rodney nodded, and that felt like more than it should be. John relaxed against the wall, letting the cool of the stone soak into the stiff muscles of his back.

"We should consider our supplies," Teyla said quietly. "I inventoried the rations earlier, and they will last us a week, perhaps more."

And even if Rodney had a breakthrough, they might be stuck waiting for the Wraith to move on for longer than a week. Water wasn't an issue, shelter was sufficient for their current environment, but food could definitely become a problem.

"I guess that means hunting," he said, wrinkling his nose a little at the thought. He'd never been a fan of the fresh-from-the-field menu. "Have you seen any good prospects?"

Teyla did that odd little head tilt, the one that said yes and no at the same time. "There are some large rodents that should prove sufficient, at least for the short term. If we have wire or cording I can build snares."

"Fishing line," Rodney said suddenly, and John nodded.

"There should be some in one of the kits. Will that work?"

"We shall see," she hedged.

"What about fishing?" John asked.

She shrugged. "I have not seen any fish in the streams yet, but then, I was not searching for them. Perhaps there is a better location away from this area. We could follow the streams to their confluence."

John shook his head. "No, I don't want to leave this area. Ford could show up any time, and we need to be here when he does."

"Why, so he can beat the snot out of you again?" Rodney asked, more worry than snap to the question.

"We'll just have to be careful not to provoke him," John said patiently, hoping against hope that was true. He didn't want to fight Ford in an effort to save them all. "He told us himself that he was amped up on something the Wraith did to him. It's not his fault."

Rodney didn't look pacified. "He could have killed you." He glanced over at Teyla, then back at John. "We were lucky. Don't pretend that Ford's not dangerous just because he's a friend."

"I'm not," John snapped. A tense silence filled the small room. John found himself missing the constant hum of Atlantis, the sound of people always in the background somewhere. Here, there was nothing but an occasional rattle of the wind and the high-pitched drone of insects. Not enough sound to drown out the thoughts he didn't want to have, like the possibility that Rodney might not be Superman this time, or that Ford might end up an enemy.

"Anything else we should focus on?" John asked finally.

Teyla shook her head fractionally. Her eyes were looking glazed again, probably both from pain and exhaustion. It was probably safe for her to sleep if he woke her on occasion. He looked over at Rodney, but Rodney was tapping away at his tablet notebook, his brows drawn in concentration.

John sighed, and settled more comfortably against the wall. He'd take a twenty-minute power nap, then check their perimeter again. Tomorrow they'd see about making their stay a little more comfortable.

Teyla rose from her squat, satisfied that the run she had spotted was from one of the planet's small rodent species. She backtracked to the stream where Dr. McKay was waiting, and squatted down on the bank. The motion wasn't as smooth as it should be; though she felt much better after two days of rest, her muscles were stiff and she still had a slight headache.

"Please hand me one of the snares," she asked Dr. McKay as she coated her hands in the sticky mud. He handed her the loop of cording without a word, and she rubbed it thoroughly with the mud.

"Follow me," she told him, "but try not to touch the area where I am setting the trap. You will leave your scent, and the animals will avoid it."

"Of course," Dr. McKay said, picking up the pack with their supplies and falling in step behind her. "Is that what the mud's for? To mask the scent?"

She inclined her head as she navigated away from the stream. She did not want to disrupt the area more than necessary, but she feared that it would be unavoidable with Dr. McKay following her. Still, he would not learn if she did not teach him. She had been surprised when he had volunteered to accompany her, but she suspected that he was becoming discouraged with his efforts to get them back to Atlantis.

"Stop there," she said, indicating a fallen log not far from the area she had chosen.

"Okay, right," he said, and sat heavily. "So, the idea is to get the animal to run into the loop, right?"

Teyla began tying the end of the cord to the sapling next to the break in the undergrowth. "Yes. There are several methods to anchor the snare, but you must keep the noose at head height so it catches around the neck. The animal then strangles as it attempts to get free."

"Ah," Dr. McKay said. "Is that, uh, really necessary? I mean, of course it's necessary, food and all, but it seems a little, I don't know, barbaric?"

Teyla turned back toward him. "Barbaric?"

He smiled wryly. "Never mind," he said and waved her to continue.

She watched him for another moment, but he just raised his eyebrow and waved again. Teyla returned to her work, snugging the cord against one of the small branches before she began adjusting the position of the noose.

"It bothers you, does it not?"

"I wouldn't exactly say it bothers me," Dr. McKay hedged. "It's just that they're so small, and defenseless, and gee wouldn't it be nice if we had an endless supply of PowerBars."

Teyla smiled at his attempt to hide his compassion with humor.

"I suppose this is old hat for you," he continued. "Getting back to basics."

She checked the snare over one last time. She was once again reminded of how little the Earthers knew of her people.

"Not really, no," she told him. "I have not done this since I was a child." The feel of the muddy cord brought back bittersweet memories of her father teaching her the basics of survival. She had been so eager to learn, but she could empathize with McKay's discomfort. She remembered tears streaming down her cheeks as she beheld her first catch, a small echen--limp, fuzzy, and still warm. Her father had been kind but firm as he reminded her of the realities that faced them. Their people had to be prepared for any eventuality.

"Oh," Dr. McKay said, and then he fell silent.

Teyla worked her way back to his position, debating where to lay the next snare. By the stream itself, where the animals watered? She began to retrace their steps.

"Can I ask you something, Teyla?"

The question surprised her. Dr. McKay was rarely tentative, and she wondered what he might want to know.

"Of course," she told him. "You may ask anything of me."

He did not answer immediately. She assumed he was concentrating on navigating through the woods. It was far from an old forest, and the undergrowth was thick away from the trails. All of the land she had seen thus far told a tale of past inhabitants, despite the relative lack of structures. She was sure this world had been culled to extinction some time in the past.

"Were you and Ford involved?" he asked at last. "You know, romantically?"

Teyla stumbled over a loose rock near the stream bed, catching herself with a hand on one of the sturdier trees. She stopped, feeling like she had been struck a blow. "No," she answered, but her voice was scratchy and she had to repeat herself to be heard. "We were not."

That would have been sufficient with most people, but then, Dr. McKay was not most people. "It's just that you called him Aiden several times," he continued. "Colonel Sheppard explained your custom, and I thought maybe--"

She turned to face him, and she did not know what was showing on her face, but he fell silent. His eyebrows were quirked with worry, and his face was slightly pink. Teyla took a deep breath.

"Aiden is my friend," she told him. "But there have been times that I thought we might become more." Times when his warm eyes sparkled with interest, and times they grew black with concern. Her stomach felt like it had knotted itself into an unworkable tangle. "It is not something I dwell upon."

Dr. McKay nodded. "I'm sorry."

She held his eyes, uncertain of what to say. The woods grew active as they stayed silent, distant birds singing and flies buzzing nearby. Teyla found that she wanted to tell him more, tell him about her concerns and her hopes, about the ways that Aiden had supported her through difficult times. But she could not find the words.

"Rodney," he blurted.

"Excuse me?"

Dr. McKay rolled his eyes. "I mean, you should call me Rodney. You know, if you'd like. There's no reason to call me doctor."

Some of the knot melted away with happy surprise. "You do not have to permit that out of a sense of obligation," she told him anyway.

He snorted. "Please. When have you known me to do something because of societal expectation?"

She tried to gauge his sincerity. "Very well, Rodney," she smiled. He smiled back warmly. "Thank you."

The moment dragged out into awkwardness as neither of them found anything to say. Teyla turned back toward the stream. "We should resume our work. We have to place many snares in order to capture one animal."

"Ah, yes," Rodney said from behind her. "Probability. I wonder if there's a way to determine the best ratio of snares to rabbits per plot of land."

Teyla smiled as he continued to discuss applying mathematics to hunting. She did not understand much of what he said, but that did not matter at all.

The big continent was coming up again, the jagged line of the shelf growing on the curve of the planet. Aiden decided he was going to name that one New Chicago, 'cause it kind of looked like a bear. He wasn't so sure of the others, two small chunks of land on the other side of the planet that didn't look like much of anything. Maybe on the next swing he'd figure out the smallest one. If not, well, he didn't have much else on his schedule.

He tried to look away as the land mass grew, but his eyes were drawn to the same spot every time he circled the planet. A few hundred miles interior of the coastal mountain range, but before the major river system that cut the continent in half. They were down there somewhere. He couldn't pick out their lifesigns from that of the flora and fauna, which made him grateful and worried at the same time. The Wraith would have to get closer to the planet to notice three lone humans, and they had no reason to do so. The advance ships had already passed through the system without paying any attention to this planet.

Aiden sighed. The memories just kept replaying in his head, every step he'd taken on the cruiser two days ago. Foot soldiers everywhere, but they were dumb, never doing anything unless one of the fancy dudes told them to. The key was to blend in, follow along, don't call any attention to his differences, then slip in and make his move. The whole ship smelled like frogs, like summer evenings gigging on the pond with his grandpa. Didn't sound like it, though. Just the heavy steps of the soldiers and the weird hum of the ship.

There was always a lab. Slip in, hold out his arm, get a shot of the goo. The witch doctor dude never asked anything, not on any of the ships he'd infiltrated. The Wraith couldn't conceive of their food trying anything so ballsy. That was fine with him; walking right into the engine room for a little sabotage was beyond easy. He remembered the old Dr. Weir talking about the Ancients trying to negotiate, of all things, and then tucking tail and running when their fancy ships and satellites didn't work. He bet they'd never tried taking the fight to the Wraith.

He rubbed at the weird ridges on the side of his face. Going on three months now, stealing meds and blowing up engines whenever he could, and every mission had kept getting easier. Until this last one. He knew they all kept a supply of humans, had even seen the cocoons a time or two, but those had only held dead bodies, desiccated husks that he could ignore. This time, right after he'd gotten the shot, he'd passed by a honeycomb of people, wrapped and paralyzed but still alive.

He'd expected the fury, and the disgust. There was no way in hell he'd been prepared for the...yearning that ate at him. He'd wanted to touch those people and see what was inside.

Aiden shuddered and pushed the thought away. New Chicago was drifting away below him, taking away the temptation to see his team again. They were safe down there, he knew that, even if he couldn't see them on his display. Teyla was too big of a bad-ass to let anything take them down, and Dr. McKay would either think or talk a problem to death. And Major Sheppard was too stubborn to let anything happen to his people.

He smiled. No, his team would be just fine. There wasn't any reason to go looking in on them like they were babies. Aiden had his own mission to worry about.

Rodney stared at the stew pot perched precariously over the open flames, thinking about internal combustion engines as steam escaped from the lid. If only. Ancient technology was so far beyond that stage that to even contemplate some kind of interface between the two was ludicrous. Not that he could make an engine if he wanted to; twigs and stones were fine for a cooking fire, but didn't do much for creating and harnessing explosive power. No, he'd need to find metal ore, and mine it, smelt and cast it, all of which would take most of a single lifetime with the equipment he had now.

He might as well resign himself to squirbit stew for a very long time. The snares they had set had yielded a catch after only a day. He wondered if they'd have to worry about overhunting, or if the population would increase to keep up with their predation.

"I don't think it's going anywhere, Rodney."

He blinked, breaking away from the state he'd been locked in. John was squatting beside the fire, cautiously lifting the lid of the pot.

"No, that seems to be the common theme lately," he muttered. John ignored him.

"Well, it doesn't smell awful," John said, wrinkling his nose as he peered through the steam. "Maybe it won't be so bad."

Rodney snorted. "What do you care? Don't they train you to eat dead opossum and worms?"

John rolled his eyes. "I'm not a Marine, Rodney. We don't feel it's necessary to prove our masculinity by playing chicken with botulism."

"No, no, you just like to perform death-defying acts at speeds humans were not meant to survive, encased in a flimsy metal shell kilometres above nice, safe land."

John grinned, and Rodney could see the stereotypical flyboy come out to play. "Well, yeah, but that's fun." All he needed were those aviator shades and a bevy of blonde bombshells hanging off his arm, and John could have his own leading role in an eighties movie. Top Air Dog, or Steel Eagles, or something equally as ridiculous.

Rodney shook his head and let it go. He had to admit that flying the puddlejumper was a hell of a thrill. He had a lot more faith in Ancient engineering than he did human, though. John peered back down at the pot, shrugged, and dropped the lid.

"At least we won't starve to death," he said to John. "Die of misaligned discs, that's a distinct possibility."

Teyla returned from wherever she'd been, stopping to check the stew before she seated herself across from Rodney.

"The floor's better than a lot of ground we've slept on, McKay."

Rodney shrugged. "Which isn't saying much. Why didn't the SGC think ahead and pack inflatable mattresses? They don't take up that much room."

"And we wouldn't even need an air compressor with you around," John said quietly, just loud enough that Rodney knew John was trying to get a rise out of him.

"Oh, ha ha. I'm just saying, a fighting force would be that much more efficient if they weren't creaking and groaning every day because they had to sleep on the ground."

"I agree," Teyla said.

"Really?" Rodney asked, rather surprised that someone as tough and used to hardship as Teyla would admit to such a thing.

She nodded. "It would not be difficult to fashion a mattress from these grasses," she said, pointing to the waving green that surrounded them. "Once dried, they would provide some padding under our bedding."

"Oh, fabulous," he said. "We can use one of the tarps as a casing. Wait. What about mold? And are we sure the grass is safe? I don't want to die in my sleep from my lungs shutting down."

"You walk through it every day, Rodney," John said, but Teyla cocked her head to the side, looking thoughtful.

"I do not believe it will cause any problems," she said. "It will need to dry thoroughly, and we must take care to not let it get damp. But I think it is worth the attempt. If it is not successful, we do not have to use it."

Rodney smiled at the thought of honest-to-goodness padding. "That's an excellent point," he conceded. "Very practical."

Teyla smiled back at him. He turned to John, waiting for some smart remark about his practicality, but John was staring off into the distance, making a face similar to when he'd checked out the stew.

"Mowing the lawn, huh?" John asked, still not looking at Rodney. He stood up, brushing at the back of his pants. "We'll take care of it, and you come up with a way to get us home."

John pulled out his knife and Teyla followed suit. Rodney watched them, John's optimism a wedge in his throat that pretty much killed his appetite.

John tossed a twig into the fire, watching the sparks spin upwards on the heat draft, then get tossed to the side as the cooler breeze gusted. His stomach was full, but he felt far from sated. Nearly a week of mostly wild game, barely enough of their diet supplemented by divvied-up MRE's to make a difference. The thought of a stale cracker with lumpy jelly made his mouth water like crazy. If they were here much longer, they'd have to start experimenting with the local vegetation. If, he told himself. If.

He was warm from the fire, so he slipped off his jacket, wadded it into a ball for a pillow, and lounged back to stare up at the sky. His eyes slowly recovered from the fire dazzle, stars taking the place of the false brightness. So many stars. It was a decectively beautiful sight. He'd never be able to look up again without knowing the truth. When he was younger, he'd dreamed of flying among the stars, finding peace and connection and everything else he'd wanted. Now the stars were simply a reminder of their enemies out there.

Rodney stirred beside him, tossing a twig of his own into the fire. John could see the sparks rise in his peripheral vision. Something about fire was magnetic to the human soul. Teyla had bragged to him that first day that her people had mastered fire. He thought that was overly hopeful. Men could do a lot with fire--roast rodents, power jets, make hive ships explode--but that wasn't the same as mastery.

"Do you think we should try some different type of hunting, Teyla?" Rodney asked. It was out of the blue, his voice loud in the quiet, but John was deep enough into his own thoughts that the sudden intrusion didn't bother him. "Give the squirbits a rest?"

Teyla said something, but John was busy trying to process Rodney's last statement into something that made sense. Usually he only had a hard time following Rodney when Rodney went into theoretical astrophysicist mode. "Squarebit? Is that what you said?"

John could feel their stares in the sudden silence, the crackle of the fire loud and close. He bet Teyla looked startled, wondering at his rudeness. Rodney was probably rolling his eyes and deciding whether he was worth answering.

"Squirbit, Colonel. As in a cross between squirrel and rabbit?"

John snorted. "That's as bad as anything Ford's ever come up with. No more naming for you, either."

The silence was different this time. Fraught. Waiting. John swallowed and concentrated on the stars. There was an elongated loop that reminded him of the fall of fireworks on the fourth of July. The purple and green kind.

Rodney laughed softly. "He was always suggesting new ones whenever you were out of earshot," he said quietly. "Remember that horsecart back on M3-995?"

"He called it a," Teyla paused, her voice incredulous, "booger?"

"A boogy," Rodney corrected with a laugh. "Because it was a buggy that looked like it was dancing."

"No," John ordered flatly.

"No?" Rodney asked, a moment before Teyla's "Is there something wrong?"

John sat up, blinking at the brightness of the fire. "We are not doing this. Ford isn't dead, and we're not going to sit around eulogizing him."

"Excuse me? We're just talking."

John picked up a fat stick and poked the fire. "No, you're not just talking. You're sitting around remembering all the good things about the friend you've lost. Believe me, I've heard it all before, and we're not doing it for Ford. Not yet, not ever if I can help it."

Another twig came flying at the flames. "And how do you intend to do that, Colonel? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like we're stuck on this planet, awaiting the good lieutenant's whim to come back and save our asses. That's assuming he doesn't get himself killed doing whatever crazy thing he's off doing."

John shoved against one of the logs, snapping his stick in half. "Why do you have to be so damn pessimistic all the time, Rodney?"

"Why can't you accept reality?"

He tossed the other end of the stick into the flames. "I'm very aware of reality, McKay. I just don't give up when things get a little hard."

That was harsh--too harsh, not to mention untrue. Rodney should have his head for it, but he didn't say a word. John thought about apologizing, but he was so sick of the what-ifs and things he couldn't fix, sick of the thought of Ford out there by himself, that his tongue tangled on all of the different things he wanted to say.

"I simply want to talk about my friend," Teyla said. "Is that so wrong?"

He shook his head, then got to his feet. Teyla was always so sure of herself, always so sure of the right path. He liked that about her, but it also drove him nuts when the only thing he could see was a tangle of bad and worse choices.

"You do that," he told her, and then gave in to the urge to get away. He stalked toward the northern woods, figuring he'd give the jumper a once-over. They were getting lax with security, not even bothering to keep watch at night anymore. But the planet was barren, and the door to the cabin was so damn creaky Ford wouldn't be able to sneak in. Sharing a bed together kept them warmer, anyway, even if it was a little cramped.

John was being an ass and he knew it. Rodney was right. John had never known anyone as brilliant as Rodney, and sometimes he thought Rodney could do anything he set his mind to doing. But John knew that something couldn't be created from nothing--not without some Ancient handwaving, anyway. They couldn't even figure out how to send a signal home. They were stuck here--Rodney and Teyla were exiled from everyone and everything they cared about--unless Ford came to his senses.

Unless Ford had some sense knocked into him.

It was a hell of a thing, having to choose between lives, but he'd done it before. He wasn't going to give up on Ford, not yet. But Rodney and Teyla deserved better. Ford was a good kid, a great second in command, maybe a even a brother in some ways. He was military, though, a Marine.

As John waded through the thick grass of the second clearing, he knew that he would do whatever he had to do. That didn't stop the sick feeling in his gut that had nothing to do with squirbit stew. He opened the jumper hatch, climbed in, and shut it behind him. He headed right to his seat and settled in. It was too dark outside for anything to show through the hazy front screen, but he stared at it anyway.

John ran his hands over the controls, but they were only dead cylinders, nothing more than joysticks on a broken video game. His thumbs worked restlessly over the strange plastic-y feel of them as he finally acknowledged the truth that had been hiding in the back of his mind for a very long time.

He would choose Rodney and Teyla over Aiden.

John let go of the controls and sat back, snugging his hands under his armpits. He wasn't sure what he wouldn't do for Rodney and Teyla, and that scared him more than the Wraith.

If he didn't know better, Rodney would say they were completely oblivious to his presence. But he did know better, and he was sure that even though Teyla and John seemed intent only on each other, on the sticks flying between them, that they had noticed him as soon as he had taken a seat.

The sky was hazy, that late afternoon aqua that came before the red shift of the setting sun. It'd be dark in a few hours, but for now the light was good, the air was warm but not too warm, and John and Teyla looked like they planned on going at it until it was too dark to see. John had been withdrawn the past couple of days, and Rodney thought he was trying to burn off whatever was bothering him.

Rodney had seen them spar before, a few times, but he had always taken surreptitious glances, not wanting to intrude, not wanting to look too interested. But right now they were the equivalent to TV, the movies, and a good book all rolled into one, so he watched. John was much better than he used to be. Teyla was in control, but John pressed her closely. Rodney tried to watch for the individual movements, tried to notice their technique, but they moved so quickly and smoothly that it was impossible.

John burst into motion, his sticks beating down against Teyla's over and over furiously, driving her into retreat. Rodney felt himself standing, disconnected, worried, as suddenly John planted a foot behind her own and hooked an arm across her neck.

John went flying.

Rodney sat back down.

Teyla kicked the stick John still had out of his hand, then pressed a knee into his chest. Rodney could only see the side of her face; her hair wild and free, strands stuck to her cheek and neck with sweat, her lips pursed and her eyebrow arched. He wasn't sure if she was pissed or not, but she looked fierce.

"I think perhaps we are done for the day," she told John. They held the pose for a long moment. Rodney couldn't see John's face at all, but he was probably scowling, grumpy that Teyla was calling the shots. Then she stood back and extended a hand, helping John up. They did the forehead thing before they both turned towards Rodney, faces almost identically bland and pleasant.

"Rodney," John said, and Teyla nodded.

"Have fun getting the crap beat out of yourself, Colonel?"

John smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile. Rodney tensed, knowing that something bad was coming.

"Oh, I had a great time," John said. "But I've been thinking. We should really spend some more time working on your defensive abilities. Say, right now."

Oh, yes. Definitely bad. "I don't see the point," he protested quickly. "Trapped on an empty planet, remember? Not a lot of bad guys to beat up." Or be beaten up by, which was by far the more likely scenario.

John crossed his arms, retrieved sticks poking out like skeletal fingers. "You never know when you're going to have to defend yourself," he said. "I think it's a very good idea."

Rodney crossed his own arms. "Well, I don't."

John dropped his arms with a gusty sigh. "Look. Just try. It might make a difference some day."

Rodney glanced at Teyla, who was watching them carefully. It occurred to him that John had pretty much volunteered her as well.

"I will not hurt you, Rodney," she said quietly.

He somehow doubted that, though he was sure she'd be a lot nicer to him starting out than she was to John. He looked back at John, already feeling himself giving in, but not quite ready to concede yet. Maybe it was the way John wouldn't quite meet his eyes, or maybe it was the honest concern in his voice.

"I'll do your weapon maintenance today," John wheedled, completely losing his hard-ass command attitude. Rodney nearly laughed, but he knew a good deal when he heard one. Not that he couldn't handle something as simple as cleaning his gun, but he wasn't going to let that offer go.

"Fine," he said. "I suppose I can work it into my pressing schedule this afternoon."

John grinned at him. He grinned back.

Then John handed him the sticks, and Rodney remembered what he'd volunteered to do. Teyla stepped forward as John walked over to the sitting rock. She simply began explaining how to hold the sticks properly, however, and he relaxed a little. Soon enough they were going through the different steps and stances, which weren't too bad. He felt like a lumbering giant next to her, slow and stiff and awkward, but she was very patient. Nothing like he'd be if he were teaching, that was for sure.

"Let us try a basic attack and response," she said, and his stomach knotted up again.

"I will step forward and swing at you, and you step back, into the defensive position, and bring your stick up to block my own."

They stepped through the exercise very slowly, and Rodney nodded. Not so bad. Then Teyla increased the pace a little. He started to get frustrated. At least one in three of her attacks got through, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. He couldn't get the rhythm down at all. He was either moving too fast or too slow or in the wrong direction. He stopped, dropping his arms to the side.

"I'm doing this wrong," he said with disgust.

Teyla smiled, still encouraging. "You are doing fine. Do not be so hard on yourself."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, good. Now quit pampering me and tell me what I'm doing wrong."

He could tell he'd surprised her. She frowned in thought, licking her lips once before she nodded.

"Think of it as if I am the fire, leaping forward with great force and energy. You are water, ebbing gently away only to surge forward and quench my flames."

Rodney blinked back at her. He found himself fighting down a blush as he tried to decipher what she had said. "Oh. That's very, uh, poetic," he groped. And it made about as much sense as poetry, but he wasn't about to tell her that when she had those sticks ready and waiting.

Teyla inclined her head. "It is a metaphor, a way of thinking about movement. When one takes the form of water, one may retreat like a river flowing away, or one may attack like a great storm surge. It is not strength or weakness, merely being."

Rodney nodded. "Right. Flowing. I can do that." Or he could pretend until she knocked him on his ass, and they all came to the mutual realization that stick-fighting was not for astrophysicists.

John cleared his throat, right behind him, and Rodney tried not to jump out of his skin.

"Think of it this way," John said, holding his hands up in front of him in explanation. "When she attacks on a straight line, you need to get off of that line. So you step out and back at a forty-five-degree angle, and she can't reach you."

The words made more sense, and as John nodded to Teyla and they moved to demonstrate his point, it all clicked into place. There was a geometrical logic to their motions, one that should be simple enough to recreate. If he could make his body do it, of course.

"You see?" John asked.

Rodney nodded, feeling much more confident. "I think so. Can we try it again?"

Teyla squared up with Rodney as John moved out of the way. As she stepped forward, he stepped for the forty-five. It was a bit clumsy, but her stick missed him.

"Very good," Teyla said, smiling at both of them. "Now attack."

Rodney stepped back onto the line, bringing his right stick forward to snap against Teyla's.

"Good," she crooned, "now again, a little faster."

They repeated the combination several times, increasing the tempo slightly each time. Rodney failed to get out of the way on the last, and Teyla's stick tapped his shoulder yet again. He winced, but she was obviously taking it easy on him.

"Now what did I do wrong?"

"It is only a matter of letting the motion become natural," Teyla said gently. "You are concentrating too much on stepping, and that takes time."

"Yes, tell the genius not to think. That'll work," he muttered, but it was only half-hearted. He found that he really wanted to get this right, and it was irritating that his usual gifts were hampering him.

He did jump this time when John snuck up behind him, but that was mostly because of the warm hand suddenly on his lower back. John rarely touched anybody, and usually it meant something bad was happening.

"Easy, McKay," John said, soft and deep, right in his ear. A thumb stroked over the tension in his lumbar muscles. "Just let yourself go with it."

He had a moment of panic as John hooked his fingers in his waistband, remembering childhood depantsings, but then Teyla took her position. She stepped forward to attack, and--

He was yanked backwards, dragged by John's hand in his pants. Rodney kept his feet, but just barely.

"Jesus!" he yelled after he recovered enough to realize he had landed perfectly out of the way of Teyla's strike. "Warn a guy next time."

John snickered, a wholly unpleasant noise, then thumped Rodney lightly on the back. "Did you feel that? No standing up when you move. You just sort of let yourself fall into position."

Falling was exactly the right word. He turned to glare at John. "How was I supposed to feel anything? I was too busy not landing on my ass."

"Exactly," John agreed brightly. "Now let's do it again, but pay attention this time."

He grabbed onto Rodney's waistband again, nudging him to turn back to Teyla. She had a small smile on her face, and she nodded before she settled into position again. Then they were moving again. He could feel John behind him, guiding him literally by the seat of his pants, pulling just enough to get him into position without pulling him to the ground.

"Okay, now attack," John said, giving Rodney another tiny push.

Rodney moved forward into his awkward attack. Teyla met his strike easily. He felt bound up on himself, locked in place and weak compared to what he knew was the ideal.

"Wait," John called. Rodney started to turn, but stopped himself as John darted around and knelt in the grass.

"You need to pivot your foot before you step forward again," he said. Then he actually turned Rodney's foot, pivoting it on the heel so his toes pointed more outward. "Otherwise you get hung up."

John looked up, and Rodney had to smile. John looked puzzled for a moment before he grinned back.

"Okay," Rodney told him. He looked back at Teyla, determined to make this work. "Again?"

They began again. He slowly figured out the pivot and got it coordinated with the previous steps. Finally, Teyla stopped.

"Excellent," she said. "Do you feel the motion of the wave? Ebb away, then crash forward?"

Rodney nodded, amazed that the poetic words actually made sense. It was a type of sinusoidal motion, when it came down to it. "I get it." He grinned at her, and she smiled widely enough to show off her beautiful teeth.

"All right," she said. "I believe we shall move on to falls, then."

"On second thought," he said quickly, "I don't think I have the attack thing quite right."

John laughed, but Teyla just looked more predatory.

"Do I have to remind you that the brain is a very delicate organ, and mine is very, very important to our survival?"

"Relax, Rodney," John said. "This is to help you keep that brain safe."

"It is for your benefit," Teyla agreed.

He looked at John, saw that same, carefully guarded something in his eyes as before. "You first," he said.

Teyla smiled. "Of course," she said, and latched on to John's wrist. John threw him a glare, and then Teyla did something to his wrist and John dove to the ground, rolling across his shoulder and coming back up to his feet.

"See," John said. "No problem."

"Great," Rodney muttered, but stepped forward.

Aiden guided the ship down quickly, eagerly. He was on a huge high--that hive ship was doomed next time it jumped, and they'd have no clue what happened--and he just had to see his team. His friends. He was careful to avoid the maneuvers that made the dart scream like a banshee, but he wanted to loop the loops and do some barrel rolls just because. The juice was singing inside him, pumping him up like nobody's business. This was the shit, man. As nasty as the Wraith were, maybe this one thing wasn't so bad.

He gave in and rolled the dart once as he spotted the jumper. Totally the shit.

Leaves lashed and branches sawed together as a sudden wind whipped downwards, unlike any storm she had encountered before. A high-pitched hum followed; not the terrifying wail of the Wraith that she was used to, but probably a ship nonetheless. Teyla looked up, but it was impossible to see anything through the thick canopy. Cold clenched in her gut. A split-second debate--back to the camp or forward to the clearing--and then she was running. She pushed her way through the last branches in time to see the strangely gleaming ship touch down amid the flattened grasses.

They pounded through