Rating: NC-17 for adult situations.

Summary: A strange coincidence leads to Sheppard and McKay wiping out the Wraith. Now, to return home, they must battle aliens, Ancients, dopplegangers, their own feelings, and the most unnerving thing of all, whales. McKay/Sheppard, with McKay/Keller, Sheppard/Katie Brown, Teyla/Ronon, Teyla/Kanaan, Ronon/Keller, Sheppard/Carter, and Sheppard/Beckett.

Spoilers: Up through and including SGA 5x10/5x11 First Contact/The Lost Tribe; SG-1 3x06 Point of View, 5x04 The Fifth Man, 5x14 48 Hours, 6x01/6x02 Redemption, 8x16/8x17 The Reckoning, 8x18 Threads, 8x19/8x20 Moebius, 9x13 Ripple Effect, 10x10/10x11 The Quest, 10x14 The Shroud.

Huge thanks to Mel for beta reading, and Keri and Cait for their suggestions and help.

Chapter One

They found it in one of the previously unexplored storage closets, in a room they'd only been able to access after the Ancients' little visit. The cramped, dust-filled closet was in a section of the city that had been completely submerged in water up until the Ancients had retaken (and soon after had been killed in) Atlantis two years ago. The device itself looked like the high-end coffee maker Rodney had bought from The Bay in 1986, which meant, like all things from the Eighties, it was huge and tacky. The problem was that as far as they knew, the Ancients hadn't drunk anything that resembled coffee. Rodney suspected they had, however, smoked a lot of weed, if the long dresses and headbands and We Are One With Nature fake priestesses were anything to go by.

Rodney pulled the machine out from the cobwebs and gently blew off the dust.

"Coffee maker?" Zelenka asked from above where Rodney knelt, leaning over Rodney far enough for his glasses to slip down his nose.

"Doubt it," Rodney said.

He cradled the machine in his hands. There was an open tube of silver metal where the pot would have gone if it was a coffee maker, and a faded line of indecipherable Ancient was scratched onto the what must have been the machine's back. Knowing Rodney's luck, it probably said, 'Do not touch on pain of death.' Small blue lights lined each corner. On the side opposite the tube was a strange hieroglyph painted in a faded, rusty red; it was hardly a typical Ancient colour, as they were more prone towards colours that were 'soothing' and 'calming' and other examples of useless, Nirvana, find-yourself crap.

"Juicer?" Simpson asked, standing over Rodney's other shoulder.

"Food processor?" Zelenka sighed.

"Blender?" she asked fervently.

"What a subtle way of telling me you want to break for lunch," Rodney said sarcastically.

Simpson and Zelenka moved out of the way as Rodney climbed to his feet, grimacing at the cramp in his lower back. His knees popped loudly. Standing up, he could now see the device -- whatever it was -- was nearly as long and wide as his chest, although it was also deceptively light. He still had no idea what it was for. A microwave? He raised it to his nose and sniffed it. It smelled like plastic.

"And they say you are oblivious," Zelenka said. He pushed up his glasses with a finger and raised his eyebrows at Rodney.

Rodney frowned. "Who says that?"

Before he could wheedle a response out of Zelenka, the doors to the room slid open and in sauntered Colonel Sheppard with a coffee mug in his hand that said 'Sarcasm: Just One More Service I Offer' and his P-90 flopping against his tac vest. The lights, which had already been dim thanks to the entire left-side light panel being shattered, brightened noticeably. Sheppard took a sip of his coffee and leaned against the wall like he belonged there.

Rodney felt the first twinges of annoyance. "What are you doing here?"

"Last time I let you explore alone, you were stunned and kidnapped," Sheppard replied, giving Rodney a meaningful look. As flattered as Rodney was that Sheppard's main concern was for him, the smile Sheppard directed towards Simpson ruined it. Rodney rolled his eyes at the way she shyly tucked her blonde hair back behind her ears. Zelenka, too, looked happy to have Sheppard there to distract him. Leave it to Sheppard to reduce intelligent scientists to schoolgirls.

"I, for one, have no desire to be electrocuted again, like when we found the Ascension machine," Zelenka agreed.

"I don't need you to supervise," Rodney said to Sheppard. Zelenka muttered something under his breath that sounded suspicious like "Attero device," and Rodney batted a hand at him without even looking. "Don't you have better things to do, like press Woolsey's love letters between the pages of your diary?"

Sheppard scowled. "They're not love letters, they're my performance reviews. I can't help it if he thinks I do a good job."

That was the most blatant lie Rodney had ever heard -- he had seen Sheppard showing one of the notes to Teyla just last week, their heads bowed together over their lunch trays -- and so he did the mature thing: he ignored it. "If another alien cyborg tries to grab me, what are you going to do, smirk at it?" he asked.

"That's what the gun's for, Rodney." Sheppard stepped into the small circle they'd formed, bumping Rodney's shoulder with his. "Hey, a blender. We could make smoothies. I mean," he added, puffing his chest out a little, "margaritas."

"It's not a blender, you frat boy," Rodney said irritably.

"That's okay, I thought it was a blender too," Simpson whispered to Sheppard.

"That's because you're an idiot," replied Rodney. "It's obviously some sort of..." He turned it over in his hands, trying to figure out what was the point of a solid, metal coffee maker-shaped apparatus. "Something not a blender, that's what. Or a food processor," he said loudly as Zelenka started to open his mouth.

"Yes, yes, I understand, not food processor," Zelenka said, rolling his eyes. "What is this?"

Zelenka pulled the device out of Rodney's hands. He flipped it so Simpson and Sheppard could study the red symbol on its top. Or maybe that was the bottom; it was difficult to tell. The contraption looked enormous in Zelenka's tiny hands, and he had one palm pressed against the dull bottom right corner in a way that hurt Rodney to look at.

"I have no idea what that is," Rodney admitted. "It doesn't look like anything I've seen before."

"Huh, it looks like a two-headed eagle," Sheppard said, face scrunching up in thought.

When Rodney looked at it from that angle, it did sort of look like an eagle with two faces in profile. The image was so faded, however, it was difficult to tell; the elongated shape in the middle could have been a beak or a nose or a cucumber, for all Rodney knew. The symbol could have been anything from a flower to an amoeba. As usual, the Ancients made absolutely no sense.

"Maybe it's the Ancient symbol for 'danger,'" Simpson suggested.

"Perhaps it is a machine that produces two-headed eagles," Zelenka said.

Rodney huffed. "Don't be--"

"I think I've seen it before," interrupted Sheppard.

He deliberately placed his free hand on the device, and for a split second, Rodney was convinced something was going to happen. Sheppard seemed to as well; a moment later, he dropped his hand, looking slightly disappointed.

"Really?" Rodney asked flatly, even though his heart was racing. "You've seen a two-headed eagle before? In Atlantis?"

Sheppard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah," he replied. "Can't remember where though."

"Thank you, Colonel, for being no help whatsoever."

"Now that we've established no one is turning into eagle, what shall I do with this?" Zelenka asked, waggling the strange device at them as best he could with both his arms wrapped around it, while Sheppard gave Rodney a dirty look.

"Let's take it to the main lab," Simpson suggested. She gestured to the bottom of the appliance. "See the little slits at the base? It might plug into something."

"What a great idea, plugging it into random Ancient tech," Rodney said.

She glowered at him. "So, what, we're going to do nothing? Just because you--" she started, and Zelenka loudly chimed in with, "I can look it up in the database, perhaps, when we get back upstairs--"

"Children," Rodney shouted. They both stopped mid-sentence, scowling at each other. Sheppard leaned a hip against the closed closet door, gazing back and forth between them.

"This is the part of the mission where you defer to me--" Rodney pointed at his own chest. "--your wise and capable leader. And as your wise and capable leader, I say we take this upstairs to the labs and carefully examine it. As much as it pains me to admit this, Zelenka's right; we should see if we can find it in the database before we start trying to power it up."

"Fine," Simpson said flatly. Zelenka preened and readjusted his glasses.

It wasn't until he was almost out the door that he noticed Sheppard wasn't following. Instead, he was sipping his coffee with a thoughtful look on his face, gazing at the blank, dusty wall.

"Aren't you coming?" Rodney asked.

Sheppard shook his head. "Nah, I've got paperwork I've been avoiding. Lorne says he won't do it anymore unless he gets a raise. You wanna play golf later?"

"As much as I would love to spend a few hours of my precious time hitting balls with sticks, I already have plans."

Sheppard looked at him askance, and Rodney was almost tempted to take him up on his offer; as much as he hated to admit it, he had more fun with Sheppard than with Jennifer, and Sheppard never made him feel like a bumbling, virginal sixteen year-old. If he and Sheppard had been having sex, it would have been the perfect relationship.

"Jennifer and I are going to have dinner alone," he explained. "I've been planning it for weeks."

"Okay, you have fun with that," Sheppard said. And before Rodney could say anything clever in response, like, "Oh, I will," Sheppard abruptly pushed past him and left the room.

Rodney watched him go. Simpson and Zelenka were both staring at Rodney. "What crawled up his ass and died?" he wondered.

"Why must you maintain this ridiculous farce?" Zelenka asked.

*

Three months later.

The day John and Rodney destroyed the universe began like any other. John woke up at dawn, brushed his teeth, and met Ronon for their daily five-mile jog through the city. He rode the transporter back to his floor with Doctors Coleman and Wu, who were busy giggling over something. He wasn't paying much attention to either of them until he heard Wu say, "I never thought McKay would actually do it."

For Rodney, however, the day began very differently. He was having a nightmare in which he was reliving the holiday to Disneyland his family had taken when he was ten, when a horrible, stabbing pain in his upper back caused him to jerk awake. His face was smashed against a pillow and there was someone -- or something -- in the bed next to him. Also, he was completely naked.

After roughly five seconds of panicking, he realized his back hurt because he was in someone else's bed, and that someone else was Jennifer. More importantly, he and Jennifer were naked and curled around each other, after a night of passionate love-making. Well, nervous, awkward, and reasonably-decent love-making, at least. It hadn't been the best he had ever had (Trina Poplar from third year Classical Thermodynamics), but it certainly hadn't been the worst (Stephanie Erikson, one of the students he had been TAing during his first PhD, who had wanted to call him 'daddy').

Despite this, he was filled with a sense of dread. Looking down at Jennifer's beautiful, sleeping face, he knew he had to get out of there as fast as humanly possible.

He had just finished pulling on his trousers when he heard a tired, "Rodney? What's going on?"

He froze. "Oh, you're awake," he replied feebly as he finished zipping up.

She squinted at the clock and pulled the sheets higher over her breasts. There was a big crease across one of her cheeks from the pillow. "What time is it?" she asked, pushing back her tangled hair. "Are you leaving?"

"I have an early meeting," he lied, slipping his feet into his runners.

"Okay then," she said, yawning.

Jennifer looked at him expectantly. "Oh," Rodney said, belatedly realizing what she wanted. He was a terrible boyfriend. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. "I'll see you later?"

"Later," she repeated with a wide, cute smile. He smiled back at her, his eyes flickering over the inviting outline of her body under the sheet, but then the dreadful feeling returned.

He was an idiot, he thought as the door slid shut behind him. He was running away from a beautiful, intelligent, funny, blonde, and more importantly, naked woman, and he didn't even know why. She liked him, he liked her, and while Rodney wasn't stupid enough to believe that was all they needed to make it work, their relationship, if it could even be called that, had been great thus far. There was no reason for him to be panicking now. If anything, he should be feeling even more secure than before. He had never even made it past second base with Katie.

Unfortunately, in Rodney's hurry to get away, he had not anticipated other people being awake at this hour. Doctor Coleman (Rodney could never remember her first name; Teresa? Tina?), who had evidently been walking by, slowed to a stop and gave him a little wave. Groaning, Rodney glanced back at Jennifer's door and contemplated what was worse, talking to one of his underlings about his girlfriend, or telling his girlfriend he had lied to her about his reason for running away.

While he was debating with himself, Coleman called out, "Hi, Doctor McKay." She pointedly looked at the door to Jennifer's room and smirked.

"Doctor Coleman," he said stiffly. His expression probably screamed 'guilty.' "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Her dark eyes lit up. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Was that the first time you and Doctor Keller--?"

"If you finish that sentence, I am going to make you wish you had turned down the University of Michigan and moved to a hippie compound in Oklahoma," Rodney threatened, and then he ran away to hide in his room. He could hear her laughing all the way to the transporter.

It took Rodney a good two hours before he felt normal again. By the time he made it to breakfast, Sheppard was already sitting with Woolsey, who had, in the last few months, inexplicably decided Sheppard was his new best friend. He was talking and gesturing with his spoon, while Sheppard was reading a book that said, very clearly even from this distance, Learning to Manifest Your Desires. Rodney had seen The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People and How to See Yourself As You Really Are discreetly squeezed in between the spines of Russian literature, Anne McCaffrey ("Did you know SG-1 once saw a dragon?" Rodney had once asked, thumbing one of the books. "No way, you're just saying that to make me feel bad," Sheppard had replied.), and The Princess Bride on the shelf in Sheppard's room. He didn't know why Sheppard bothered to hide it; the McCaffrey was far more embarrassing than the self-help books.

It wasn't like Sheppard had any shame whatsoever, what with his low-rise pants and his incessant whining. But this was the first time Rodney had seen him reading one of those in public.

Woolsey was still blathering on about something when Sheppard glanced up from his book and, for no reason at all, narrowed his eyes in Rodney's direction. It was disappointing, because if there was one person with whom Rodney wanted to share the intimate details of his night, it was Sheppard. His head always felt more clear after he told Sheppard his problems.

"Is it just me, or is Sheppard acting weird?" Rodney asked. Come to think of it, Sheppard had been behaving strangely for a while now.

"Sheppard always acts weird," Ronon replied with a mouthful of toast.

"Okay, weirder then." Ronon shrugged, and Rodney huffed, "Nevermind. I don't know why I bother."

Ronon slurped down the last of his breakfast, but, to Rodney's surprise, he didn't immediately get up and leave. Usually, Ronon slammed down his food and hurried to the gym before someone stole his favourite exercise bike. Personally, Rodney didn't understand what Ronon did all day other than work out and stalk his girlfriend.

"McKay," Ronon started. He waited until Rodney gave him an impatient look. "I hear you're getting laid."

Rodney stared at him, completely baffled. "How did you--?" He was about to demand how Ronon could possibly known he and Jennifer had slept together, when something even more important occurred to him: "You really want to talk about sex with me?"

Ronon shrugged. "Sure. Sheppard never talks about it. I asked him once and he started talking about feelings. And then he asked me if I had a boyfriend." Ronon paused long enough for a glop of oatmeal to drip off his spoon and back into the mostly-empty bowl. He frowned into space. "Maybe I don't want to talk about sex with him."

Rodney, for one, had no desire to listen to Sheppard talking about all the hussies he had slept with. Bragging was so unattractive. "So he never talks about how he has hoes in different area codes?" he found himself asking, as he viciously stabbed his scrambled eggs with his fork.

"What's an area code?" Ronon asked.

Rodney waved a hand in dismissal. "Nevermind." At that, Ronon raised an eyebrow and merely snatched a muffin off Rodney's tray, which puzzled Rodney. "Wait, you're not going to ask me what a hoe is?"

He could never remember how much or how little Ronon knew about Earth culture. Sheppard was always making Ronon watch horrible movies like Blades of Glory and Hair Spray, instead of the good, quality films Rodney suggested, like 2001, A Space Odyssey or Fred Claus. It was, perhaps, unfair to say Sheppard had bad taste, because Rodney knew he loved science fiction and fantasy and had burned himself DVDs of the entire Star Trek franchise, and he never seemed to mind when Rodney insisted on picking the movie, unlike Ronon and Teyla, both of whom predictably loved movies with lots of explosions. Teyla had gotten someone -- probably Bates, and probably through sheer terror -- to send her all three Terminator movies, which Rodney knew she watched at least once a week on her laptop. Sheppard had promised to take her to Earth to see Terminator Salvation on its opening night; she preferred Edward Furlong's John Connor, but she was excited about Christian Bale.

Ronon grinned. There were bits of egg stuck in his beard. "I know what a hoe is. But if Teyla asks, I don't."

Rodney snorted. "What am I, stupid? I would never say 'hoe' in front of Teyla. She'd rip off my--"

"What was that, Rodney?" a voice asked over his shoulder.

Teyla and Kanaan (with little Torren in a pink, Athosian-made wrap thing on Kanaan's back) were standing right behind him, Teyla with one brow arched severely. Perfect, he thought.

"I was, er, that is--"

"He was telling me he thinks John's acting weird," Ronon interjected, giving Rodney a smirk.

With a slight smile, Teyla took the seat beside Rodney. Kanaan, meanwhile, sat beside Ronon, transferring the wrap from his back to his chest; Torren stared right at Rodney and started blowing spit bubbles. It was both revolting and fascinating.

"What has John been doing?" Teyla asked, as she picked up her spoon to stir her tea.

Rodney tore his eyes away from Torren's drooling and immediately felt his face grow hot. For some reason, explaining it to Teyla was much more embarrassing than admitting it to Ronon. He cleared his throat. "He keeps... looking at me, and glaring."

"Perhaps you did something to hurt his feelings," Kanaan suggested, buttering his toast.

"That would require Sheppard to have feelings first," Rodney said. Both Ronon and Teyla glowered at him. "And anyway, what could I have done to hurt his feelings? Okay, yes, the other day I may have told him he had the physical appearance and common sense of a Muppet, but that's just how we talk to each other."

"Maybe it's because you didn't want to share a sleeping bag with him on PX2-587," Ronon said. He snatched a slice of cantaloupe off of Teyla's tray, and she lightly smacked his hand. Torren clapped his own hands and squealed loudly. He was obviously pre-disposed to violence.

Rodney thought about that night on PX2-58. Sure, he had recoiled and yelped, 'Why? Why can't I sleep with Teyla?' but he didn't think Sheppard had been that offended. He certainly hadn't been offended enough not to practically sprawl all over Rodney that night. The man was surprisingly grabby in his sleep.

"That can't be it," Rodney decided.

"Well, have you done anything differently today?" Teyla asked. She unscrewed the lid off of a bottle of green baby food and handed it to Kanaan. "Is it possible you inadvertently did something?"

"Just the-- Oh. The only thing I did differently today was, ah, spend the night with Jennifer," he boasted, even though he was both proud and horrified by his actions. He puffed out his chest and tried to look like a stud. "I don't know what that has to do with Sheppard though."

Teyla's raised eyebrows were the only sign of her surprise. Kanaan, on the other hand, nodded sagely. "So I was right, you hurt his feelings," he said confidentially

Rodney blinked, all the pomp rushing out of him. "What?"

"Kanaan," Teyla said sharply.

"But you said--"

"I know what I said. Please be quiet."

"Wait, you know what's going on?" Rodney asked her.

She stood. "I am going to get some juice," she announced, throwing Kanaan a glare.

With a sheepish look, Kanaan climbed to his feet. Torren made a happy sound and grabbed at Kanaan's nose. "I will go with you, dear," Kanaan said, gingerly holding one of Torren's little fists away from his face.

Rodney watched the two of them stalk off to have a heated conversation by the snack table. He wondered what they were talking about, especially when it became obvious even from there that Kanaan was apologizing for something.

"Do you think they're always like that?" he asked Ronon.

"I bet the sex is hot," Ronon said wistfully.

"Mmm," Rodney agreed.

He glanced over at Sheppard again. As if feeling his eyes on him, Sheppard looked up and pointedly turned his attention to Woolsey. What was his problem?

*

Several country music albums about broken hearts and pick-up trucks later, John got a call from Ronon over the radio. He had been lying on his bed and trying to read another chapter of a fantasy book he had borrowed from Sergeant Campbell, but it wasn't working; somehow elves and warrior princesses just weren't cutting it today. He was contemplating whether or not he was up to getting his ass handed to him by Teyla when there was a burst of static in his ear, followed by, "Sheppard, come to my room."

"No, Ronon, I'm not doing anything, and I'd love to come over," John said sarcastically.

There was a long pause. "Uh, okay. You're coming, right?"

Sighing, John sat up and tossed the book onto his nightstand. "Yeah, I'll be right there."

When he got to Ronon's, the man was tearing open a huge box on which was a picture of a tall bookcase. The word 'Ikea,' in bright yellow print, was written on the side. His room was a lot messier than usual, and that was saying something; his bed sheets were thrown to the floor, his laundry basket was tipped over, and his favourite painting, the one with the Satedan warriors in the red sunset, was propped up against the foot of his bed.

"What's going on?" John asked, as he sat down beside Ronon and crossed his legs Indian-style.

"Teyla says I need to baby-proof my room before Torren learns to walk," Ronon grunted. He tossed the instruction booklet for the bookcase into John's lap. "Last week he picked up my Wraith bone necklace and put it in his mouth.""

John flipped the pages until he got to the English instructions. "Nasty," he agreed.

"Thought Kanaan was going to have a heart attack."

Ronon flipped the box upside-down, and about one hundred pieces in various sizes rolled out of it and onto the floor. He scowled at the mess. "There weren't this many parts in the store," he said accusingly.

John had a sudden mental image of Ronon in Ikea, with his leather pants and his dreads. He bet the yuppies loved that. "So the last time you went to Earth, that was to go shopping?" he asked. "You said you had another review before the IOA! Is this because Teyla's still mad I bought the last set of drapes at Pottery Barn?"

"See, this is why I didn't want you to come with me," said Ronon.

Irritated, John recalled he had spent that week pretty worried Ronon was in trouble for something. First he found out Rodney was having sex with Keller, something which John knew he had never done with Katie Brown, and now Ronon had lied to him. His friends sucked. All he needed now was for the Wraith to attack, and today would be the perfect day.

"Hand over the long screws," he said pissily, holding out his hand.

Ronon studied him for a moment. "McKay was right."

"McKay was right about what?" John demanded.

"You talk to him today?"

John decided now was the perfect time to thoroughly study the instructions. "No, why?" he asked the booklet.

"He said you were being a freak."

"Did he," John said flatly.

If John was acting like a freak, it was only because everyone in Atlantis was talking about Rodney and Keller and their perfect love. First, there had been Coleman and Wu in the transporter; then he had walked in on Campbell and Banks gossiping about it in the control room. Banks had been gushing about how 'cute' they were. The last straw had been when he had bumped into Lorne, and Lorne had asked, "Sir, can you believe--?" He had taken one look at John's expression and finished, "That... we're out of number two pencils?"

And just as John had been thinking his only real friend was Woolsey, because Woolsey didn't care about crap like who was sleeping with whom, Woolsey had told him at the end of breakfast, "I heard a very interesting piece of gossip today, Colonel."

There was never an emergency when John really needed one. At this point, he would do almost anything to get people to focus on their goddamn jobs and not Atlantis' newest prom king and queen. So they had slept together, so what? It wasn't like they were getting married.

John's stomach knotted at the thought. He lowered the booklet to his lap. Rodney the Hologram had told John he and Keller and gotten married within a few months of dating. "Crap," John said.

He realized Ronon was looking at him funny. "What?" Ronon asked.

"Nothing." Ronon eyed him like he didn't believe him, and John grimaced. "It's... complicated."

"Whatever," Ronon said. He jumped up and began rifling through a toolbox John hadn't noticed was there, and John remembered, suddenly, that Ronon was pretty open about his thing for Keller. Maybe that was why he had decided today was the day to make his quarters safer for Torren; maybe he needed the distraction just as much as John did.

"How are you doing?" John asked neutrally.

With a hammer in hand, Ronon plopped back down beside him. He began sorting through the pile of tiny plastic pieces. "I should've bought the Hensvik model," he replied, sounding annoyed.

"No, I mean with... you know. McKay and Keller."

Ronon snorted. "Doesn't matter. She's having dinner with me tomorrow. I'm making tacos."

John's eyebrows shot up. "Really persistent there, buddy."

"I got a lot of free time," Ronon said with a shrug. "Besides, I like her, and she likes me. That hasn't changed just 'causes she's with McKay."

"That's the spirit," John replied, but, privately, he wondered if Ronon's chances with Keller were as good as he seemed to think they were. He wished he had Ronon's confidence that things would work out in his favour. In his experience, these things usually didn't. Or worse: he got the guy or girl, and then he did something to screw it up.

They managed to put the bookcase together in less than an hour, with minimal shouting on Ronon's part. When John was helping Ronon put his room back in order, he noticed something funny about the painting.

"The guy here kind of looks like you," he said, gesturing to the guy in the middle.

"My grandfather," Ronon said proudly. He finished hanging the painting on the wall and took a step back.

John frowned. "The one who had the Second Childhood?"

"Yeah," Ronon replied. "He was the Minister of Defense until he got sick. Always wanted me to follow in his footsteps."

"In the...?" John tried to think of what the Satedan government was called, but he couldn't remember what, if anything, Ronon had told him about it. "What kind of government did Sateda have, anyway?"

"We had a king, but we had the politburo too."

John nodded. "Cool," he said. Just like Star Wars.

Ronon crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at the painting, lost in thought. John thought that was his cue to leave.

It was time to face the music and go find Rodney, before Rodney started to think John was seriously pissed at him. If Rodney had noticed John was acting weird, he must've been pretty obvious about it. Lucky for him, Woolsey was probably too excited about being included in the gossip mill too notice anything was up with John, especially since John had used him earlier to keep Rodney away. As much as John wished Carter or Elizabeth were still in charge of the expedition, he had never had an easier time avoiding Rodney as he had today. In the past, Elizabeth had always noticed when something was wrong right away, and she had 'encouraged' them to work through whatever problems they were having, while Carter, who wasn't a big fan of feelings herself, had either made fun of them or had acted like they were being melodramatic until they had been forced to deal with it. Woolsey, on the other hand, probably wouldn't realize something was wrong until it directly affected their work. But there was no way John was going to let this get that far. He shouldn't have even let it get to him in the first place.

John found Rodney in the most obvious place, his lab. He was bent over his bench, trying to hook some kind of Wraith tool to his laptop. He was muttering to himself under his breath.

"How's it going?" John said, leaning his hips against the doorway.

Rodney looked up and threw an exaggerated glance around the lab. "Oh, are you talking to me?" he asked sarcastically.

John shuffled his feet. There was no good way to tell one of your best friends you were mad at him because he was having sex with his girlfriend. That would lead to a conversation John really wasn't up for today.

"I've had a lot of work," said John.

"Uh-huh." Crossing his arms over his chest, Rodney asked, "What was that little show in the mess this morning? Do we have a problem I need to know about?"

"No, no problem," John replied. "Today's just not a good day."

Rodney studied him for a long moment, and John gave him his most innocent expression. It must have worked, because Rodney cheerfully said, "Okay."

John was lying. He did have a problem. A pretty big one, in fact. His problem was that he had thought he and Rodney had been going somewhere, after Rodney and Katie Brown had broken up. Rodney had showed up at John's door that evening looking miserable, and they'd gotten drunk off an ancient bottle of rum John had brought back from Earth in their second year. After telling John all about how he hadn't really been that into Katie, Rodney had slurred, "I wish I could marry you," and had closed his eyes as John had leaned in to kiss him -- and then Rodney had upchucked all over John's feet. But the next day, Rodney had acted like it had never happened. (The marriage and the kissing thing. He seemed to remember puking pretty clearly.)

At first, John had told himself they had all the time in the world. John could make his move (again) any time he wanted. It was just better for everyone if he waited. He had team dynamics to think about. Things were kind of messed up already, with Ronon moping over first Tyre dying and then his crush on Keller, and Teyla starting a family. Except then Rodney had started seeing Keller himself, who even John knew was a much better match for him than Katie. Hell, John liked Keller. Since then, John had told himself he didn't care what Rodney did -- up until today. For the first time in his life, he was having a hard time living in denial.

"Aha!" Rodney said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.

Several lines of Wraith scrawled across the screen of the computer at Rodney's elbow. From this angle, John could see more than half the screen, and something about what he was reading seemed familiar.

"Hey, I can read that," he said in astonishment. He had long ago memorized the important words -- shield, weapon, ship, dinner -- but this was the first time he had looked at an unfamiliar line of Wraith and was able to read it right away. It kind of freaked him out.

Rodney glanced up and glared at him. "We can all read this, Colonel."

"But it's Ancient, isn't it?" John asked. "Why do the Wraith write in Ancient?"

"It's not, actually; their languages are just very similar. For some odd reason." He paused. "I think Elizabeth was trying to figure out why, but she never finished her research, because of, um, you know."

John winced. "Yeah." He tugged at the high collar of his zippered sweater so he could scratch his neck. "You want to go play video games? I got the new Prince of Persia."

Rodney didn't even look up. "Can't," he said dismissively. "I'm meeting Jennifer once I finish this. She said she had some sort of surprise for me."

"I'll bet she does," John said bitterly.

Rodney raised his head. "What was that?"

"I said, 'Have fun,'" John lied, patting him on the shoulder.

He started to leave, but Rodney twisted around to look at him. "Hey, wait a minute, Colonel," he started to say, but something popped off the device, bounced off Rodney's laptop, ricocheted off the wall, and shot through the door.

Rodney and John stared at each other for a long moment. An irritated expression slowly crept over Rodney's face.

"Fine, I'll get it," John grumbled, setting out for the corridor.

It was still bouncing off the walls and down the corridor, making a loud pinging noise as it hit Atlantis' hard walls, before disappearing around the corner. John hurried after it. If it hadn't been part of something Wraith, he would have let it slide. But knowing this galaxy, the device would turn out to be a Wraith Destructor Ray and this little rubber ball would be the key component. He made it to the next corridor just in time to see it shoot down a flight of stairs.

Groaning under his breath, John followed it down and down and down, until, finally, at least fifteen floors below Rodney's lab, it hit the railing and bounced into a hallway. When he got there, the ball had rolled to a stop right in front of one of the doors. John was crouching to pick it up when he had a funny feeling. He looked up.

Staring down at him from the door was a two-headed face.

*

When Sheppard hurried back into Rodney's lab, nearly twenty minutes after he'd left to find the missing piece of the Wraith device Rodney was trying to study, and announced, "You have to see this," Rodney was half-convinced he had found another computer game for them to play. So he was somewhat disappointed when Sheppard added, "Bring the blender." It took Rodney a good thirty seconds to realize Sheppard was talking about the Ancient device they had found several months ago, the one Rodney had shelved away among other broken Ancient tech in the room he had labeled 'Probably Useless'. Unless they were playing was Suzy Homemaker, the chances of Sheppard having found another Ancient game were slim.

With his tablet tucked under one arm, he lugged the Ancient apparatus down several flights of stairs before he managed to catch up to Sheppard long enough to ask, "Are you going to tell me what this is about?" He didn't understand why they couldn't use the transporter like normal people.

"Nope," Sheppard said. He waited on the next landing for Rodney to catch up to him. He was practically buzzing. "It's a surprise."

Sheppard had the kind of enthusiasm that could only come from discovering something really cool. It was infectious, and Rodney could feel himself beginning to grow excited. There was nothing Rodney found more exhilarating than experimenting with new technology, especially if it was something no one else had seen in hundreds of thousands of years. It was better than a perfectly-grilled fillet mignon. It was better than sex.

"Speaking of surprises," Rodney said, suddenly reminded of what he had wanted to tell Sheppard earlier, before Sheppard had taken to glaring at him from across the room. "No, wait, that came out wrong. Speaking of... oh, forget it. I just wanted to tell you: Jennifer and I finally did it."

Sheppard's face creased. "Did what?"

"Did it. It."

Remembering last night made his chest tight with confusion and embarrassment, but he tried to push that away in favour of vanity. Why shouldn't he take pride in sleeping with his beautiful girlfriend? Okay, sure, the sex wasn't that great, and she had sounded funny when she'd called him over the radio to ask him meet her for a late dinner, but how often did he get to brag to Sheppard about his sex life? Never, that was how often.

Sheppard grimaced and pushed past him again. "I don't need to know that," he called over his shoulder, the sound of his boots hitting the metal stairs ricocheting off the walls.

"Oh, I see, so you talk about this stuff with Ronon but not me," Rodney sniffed, hurt. He started taking the steps two at a time so he could match Sheppard's pace.

"Talking to Ronon is less embarrassing than talking to you," Sheppard said, not looking at him, "and anyway, he's, you know."

"Judgmental and immature?" Rodney finished, rolling his eyes. "Tell me, do you two talk about your feelings before or after he beats the crap out of you?"

Sheppard's lips thinned, but he didn't say anything, clearly focused on heading towards their destination. Rodney's stomach twisted unhappily. Really, it wasn't his fault Sheppard was a prude. It was perfectly normal for him to want to talk about his sex life with his best friend.

Rodney readjusted his grip on the Ancient coffee maker. "Wait, I wanted to tell you something."

Sheppard turned to him and gave him a long, hard look, and his urge to tell Sheppard about how weird and uncomfortable this morning was evaporated.

"Nevermind, it can wait," he said.

Finally, Sheppard paused on the top step of one of the floors. Just in time, too: Rodney's arms were starting to ache. He hoped that whatever this was, it was worth the trouble.

"Woolsey, this is Sheppard," Sheppard said into his radio. "McKay and I are--" He glanced up at the ceiling and wrinkled his brow. "--conducting an experiment. I'll contact you in half an hour. If we fall out of radio contact, send a team to the eighth floor of the central spire."

"Understood, Colonel. Good luck."

"Come on," he said to Rodney. "It's not much further."

Ten agonizing minutes later, he had led them both out of the stairwell and into one of the corridors. While there was a good chance Rodney had been down here before, nothing about it seemed familiar; it was a generic, blue hallway that could have been any floor of this building. It was dark and silent, which was typical of floors that were not in use.

"Here it is."

'It' turned out to be the two-headed symbol stenciled on one of the doors, each head on either side of the divided line. The image was a larger version of the one on the device they had found a few weeks ago, and it was faded and worn. Up close, it no longer looked like an eagle; it was more like a human head with two faces. The beak was actually a very large hook nose.

Immediately, Rodney forgot what the hell he and Sheppard were fighting about. He cradled the coffee maker in the crook of one elbow, held up his tablet, and began checking for energy signatures.

"I saw it when we were trying to sneak into the city through the underwater docking bay," Sheppard explained. "I didn't remember until the ball stopped in front of it."

"So in other words, you saw it when we were being led to the brig," Rodney translated flatly, frowning at the disappointingly low traces of energy coming from the room.

Sheppard said, "You say 'potato'..."

Now that Sheppard mentioned it, there was something about this area that looked familiar. Although at the time, Rodney had been more concerned about whether or not his plan would work before the Replicators killed them. These corridors looked different when he wasn't panicking -- less terrifying beyond belief. Now they merely looked dark and abandoned.

The doors effortlessly opened after Sheppard waved his hand over the controls. "Hello, hello," Rodney said, looking up as the overhead lights brightened.

He tapped his radio. "Zelenka, are you in the control room?"

"Yes, Rodney," Zelenka replied. He sounded bored.

"Good. Do a scan of the lower floors of the central tower and tell me if you see any energy signatures."

Inside, the first thing Rodney noticed was a large, waist-high machine that resembled a DHD without the keys for dialing. It was mounted onto the floor in the centre of the room. It looked like something had been cut out of the centre of it; something geometric and long, leaving behind a flat surface. Once Rodney could tear his eyes from the Ancient tech -- tech that was different than anything they'd found before, and even though the last time he'd been the first to find something he'd almost died horribly, he still felt that jolt of excitement -- he saw on one side of the room was a console with a broken screen, and on the other, more disturbingly, was an enormous, two-headed statue made out of what appeared to be stone. Each face was looking away from the body; one was bearded, the other smooth. Its normally white exterior had blackened with age. Neither Sheppard nor Rodney were particularly short, but the statue towered over them, staring down with blank, black eyes.

In one of the statue's hands was a shepherd's hook. The left hand, meanwhile, was extended away from its body, palm up; it was holding dozens of clear crystal marbles. It was an odd, and extremely creepy, sight. Rodney hadn't even known the Ancients had been into art.

"Have we found any other statues in the city?" Rodney asked. He set the coffee maker down at his feet.

"No," Sheppard said. He sounded creeped out.

He moved towards it, and Rodney said, "Don't get too close, are you stupid?"

"I wasn't," Sheppard said prickily. "I was just looking."

Slowly, cautiously, Rodney placed his hands on the machine. When nothing lit up or exploded in his face, he released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Much to his relief, nothing had come down from the ceiling and electrocuted him, either; he could only deal with almost Ascending once in this lifetime, thanks.

He tapped his radio. "Zelenka, are you detecting any power surges?"

"No, Rodney. If you are attempting to activate something, it is not working."

"Hmm," Rodney said, studying the dais. Sheppard circled it with a suspicious, contemplative expression on his face.

The shape of the missing piece was familiar, and, with a flash of insight, Rodney knew what it was. "I know what it is!" he announced.

The coffee maker easily slotted into the machine. It was a perfect fit. Rodney twisted it a little, just to make sure, but it had locked in place. The little blue lights on the side of the machine started flickering. Rodney's heart sped up. This was the best part of his work: that moment when everything was coming together.

"Aha!" he cried.

"Is it a missing piece?" Sheppard asked, peering over Rodney's shoulder.

"I think it might be some sort of key. Wait for it," Rodney warned, pushing Sheppard back with one hand. The blue lights noticeably brightened. "Wait for it..."

They waited. Nothing happened.

"Huh," Rodney said.

"Were you expecting something to happen?" Sheppard asked. He moved so he was standing opposite Rodney, the machine between them.

Rodney picked up his tablet from where he had set it on the floor. The device was giving off strange energy readings, but they were minute. He doubted even Atlantis's main scanners would be able to analyze them.

"Maybe the batteries are dead," Sheppard mused out loud.

He rested his palm on the top of the machine. Unexpectedly, the top panel pressed inward, like an 'on' button, and Rodney's tablet began beeping. Rodney glanced down; the energy signature had abruptly spiked.

"Wait!" Rodney shouted, reaching out to grab Sheppard's wrist.

The shocked look on Sheppard's face was the last thing Rodney saw before they were engulfed in a bright, white light.

*

Chapter Two

First, the room turned upside down and began spinning. Next came a bright flash, and then the floor beneath John's feet collapsed, pulling him into darkness. It was different from being sucked through a wormhole; that was instantaneous, but now John felt himself tumbling through open air over and over and over, just free falling, like he was never going to hit the ground.

He tried to open his mouth to call Rodney, or gasp for air, or maybe even scream--

And the world snapped back into place.

"What--" he managed, raising both his arms to keep his balance. His stomach gave a nauseating roll. "What was that?"

Rodney's face was pale. He looked as bad as John felt. "I don't know. Where are we?" he asked, gulping.

They were still in Atlantis, but not the room they had been in before. This narrow, windowless room was some kind of laboratory. Rows of long tables covered in phials and beakers took up the room; large screens were hanging from the ceiling, each one showing an image of DNA or cells or all that other stuff John had never paid much attention to in school. What grabbed John's immediate attention, however, were the two tanks of live, black insects that were sitting on shelves mounted on the walls. The tanks were enormous, easily big enough to hold a person, and each one had between six and a dozen bugs of various sizes. John's blood went cold at the sight of them.

"Iratus bugs," he said thickly.

He heard Rodney's breath catch. Suddenly furious at the idea of someone on his base raising these insects, John marched his way to the door and palmed the crystals. But he didn't make it past the doorway, because as soon as he caught sight of the people in the corridor -- the handful of unfamiliar people wearing very familiar blue and cream uniforms or flowing robes -- he froze. He was still staring when Rodney slammed right into his back.

"Ow!" Rodney shouted, voice muffled, like he was holding a hand over his nose. "What the hell are you--? Oh. Oh. This is very, very bad."

"Yeah," John agreed, drawing the word out.

'Bad' was kind of an understatement, because the people passing through the corridor were Ancients. Living, breathing Ancients.

John couldn't seem to make his feet move. He just stood there in the doorway, gaping at the Ancients who walked by, with Rodney cursing up a storm behind his back. One or two of the passerbys noticed him, and they looked at him like he was nuts, but no one stopped to demand who he was or what he was doing standing in the doorway like an idiot.

John grabbed his own arm and pinched as hard as he could. "Ow," he said, staring down in surprise. Part of him had actually expected to wake up.

If he wasn't asleep, then it meant there really were Ancients in Atlantis. Ancients which John was sure were not there twenty minutes ago. Either the city had been invaded while he and Rodney had been exploring and no one bothered to alert them, which he doubted, or...

Or that machine had sent them to an Atlantis occupied by Ancients.

When Rodney was finished with whatever it was he was ranting about, he hooked a hand in the back of John's sweater and, muttering, "For God's sake," under his breath, yanked John back into the lab. The door whispered shut. Staring into Rodney's panicked face, John felt the gears in his head begin working again. Right now, they couldn't afford to let Rodney completely freak out, which meant John had to keep him focused.

"Okay, so we're either in a parallel reality, like that time with the Daedalus, or--"

"Or we've traveled hundreds of thousands years in the past," Rodney finished, voice rising until it reached almost a squeak. He was looking down at his tablet in horror. "Since we only have one ZPM, our Atlantis is only working at one-forth the power it should be. But this Atlantis? Has four ZPMs. There are systems online I've never seen before. And on top of that, there are literally thousands of life signs in the city. Unless we've gone to a parallel reality in which the Ancients never left Atlantis, and just happen to be experimenting on iratus bugs, we've--"

"Traveled hundreds of thousand years into the past," John agreed.

The expression on Rodney's face was a mix of terror and excitement. Rodney, John knew, was itching to find out just how and why this had happened, probably more than he was scared. That was one of the things John liked about him the most (other than his sense of humour, his courage, and the way his arms looked in t-shirts): he wasn't satisfied until he knew everything about everything. And also, he appreciated a bad ass piece of technology.

Seeing that little bit of excitement in Rodney kept John from freaking out himself. They could handle this. It wasn't like he hadn't time traveled before. They weren't being attacked or in any danger of dying, which made it different from the other times he had time traveled and reality-hopped. They weren't in a sandstorm, or about to be blown up by a race John had never met before.

Setting his hands on his hips, John said, "Look, we can get through this. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Rodney seethed. He threw his arms in the air. "We're stuck here with iratus bugs and a malfunctioning-- what is this? A time machine?" He looked around. "Where did it go, anyway?"

Rodney was right: the time machine, or whatever it was, was not in the room with them. John's heart sank.

"Typical," Rodney said, scowling at the iratus bugs like it was their fault.

That drew John's attention back to the other problem they were having. "What are they doing with all these iratus bugs?" he asked. He stared at the tank, watching one enormous bug crawl over another. A shiver went down his spine.

Rodney frowned. He seemed completely thrown. "Well, there are records of the Ancients experimenting on them, but I don't think Carson could ever figure out exactly what they were doing."

"So let me get this straight," John said. "The Ancients experimented on iratus bugs. Wraith come from merging human DNA and iratus bug DNA. And Wraiths and Ancients share a common language."

"Yes, but it would have taken centuries for the iratus bug DNA to change. Natural selection takes generations." At John's look, Rodney's mouth dropped open. "You don't think the Ancients were--?"

"I think the Ancients made the Wraith," John said. "Right here, in this lab."

Rodney looked bewildered. "Why would they do that? It's insane."

"Rodney," John said, frustrated, "these are the people who invented the Ascension machine and the Asurans and -- don't forget -- made all those stupid rules about what an Ascended being can and can't do. Or what about when they wiped out all life in the Milky Way Galaxy so they could start over from scratch? The Ancients were pretty messed up. This is right up their alley. Besides, they probably didn't know what they were getting into."

Rodney glanced back at the insects. "You're probably right," he said, straightening his shoulders. He started keying through files on his tablet. "I'll make a copy of their research, maybe we can--"

"We need to stop them," John said vehemently.

Rodney blinked at him. "We need to what? You're not serious. Oh my God, you are. Wait, wait, that would change the timeline," he insisted frantically, grabbing John's arm with the hand not holding his tablet.

John tried to shake him off, but Rodney wasn't letting go. "That's kind of the point, Rodney," he growled.

The hand around John's arm tightened. "But you don't know-- how do you know this will make it better? What if some new, even worse bad guy takes the place of the Wraith, and we end up having to fight them instead? What if we create a whole series of universes where I've never been born? I shudder to think of a universe without Rodney McKay."

"Look, we have an opportunity no one in the galaxy has ever had -- to keep the Wraith from even being created. Think about it. We could stop the Wraith from culling Ronon's and Teyla's people. We could stop them from creating the Asurans. We can save the lives of millions of people, and all we need to do is kill a couple of bugs!"

"Okay. Okay!" Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just give me a minute to get used to the idea."

While he was doing that, John pushed a chair over to the tank and climbed up. He was ready to open it up and shoot the damn things until a thought occurred to him.

"Hey, McKay, our timeline won't change completely, will it? We're not going to suddenly fade away like in Back to the Future, right?"

Rodney's mouth opened and closed a few times. "I-- yes. Yes, it should be fine."

"Are you sure?" John demanded.

"Oh, yes, I jump back in time and change things all the time," Rodney snapped. He ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. "I don't know! I can't say for certain. SG-1 once found a video in Egypt that said in an alternate timeline, they had gone back to leave a ZPM to be found by the future, but they had taken every precaution to make sure their being in the past didn't affect anything. If we change something this far back in our own timeline, we have no idea what the outcome will be."

John licked his lips nervously. "But won't we need to have a reason to go back in time to stop the Ancients from creating the Wraith?"

Rodney looked relieved. "Yes, you're right."

Hopping back up on the chair, John stared to lift the top of the tank.

"I think," Rodney added.

"McKay!" John said, glaring down at him.

The bugs shrieked and tried to dart away when John began shooting at them. Much to his disgust, their yellow, goopy insides splattered all over the walls of the tank. To John's left, Rodney was standing on a chair and firing into the other tank, looking like he was going to puke at any second. John had done a lot of disgusting things in his career, including peeing on an open wound and having sand in every orifice of his body, but this was one of the worst. He really hated bugs.

When it was over, Rodney just stood there, staring at the now-yellow tank. "Rodney," John asked uncomfortably, "you okay, buddy?"

"Just thinking about the destruction of our timeline and the possible extermination of almost everyone I care about," Rodney replied morosely. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "Of course, we're also destroying a lot of people I hate, so I'm torn. Okay, now we need to find the time machine again. As long as it, too, hasn't changed rooms, we should have no problems finding it."

As they were leaving, an Ancient burst through the door. "What were those loud sounds coming from here?" he asked them, forehead creased with worry.

John and Rodney exchanged glances and got the hell out of there. "Oh dear lord!" they heard the man shout as they hurried down the corridor, pushing past startled-looking Ancients.

It was easy to find the room. It was in the same place it had been in the future, but there were more things in there now: a lab bench covered in spare parts, a chair, a set of tools. The statue was still there, looking just as creepy as it had earlier. Rodney was strangely quiet, but John knew they had done the right thing. Now all they had to do was go back to the future and make sure everything was okay. He didn't really have a plan after that, but he was sure something would come to him. They would be okay. He had to believe that; they would be fine. They had done this for Ronon and Teyla and the people of this galaxy, the Satedans and the Athosians and the Travelers and even the Genii; it didn't matter what happened to him, as long as everyone else was safe.

Rodney placed his hand over the time machine. He glanced at John. "Ready to see what new horrors we've brought to this galaxy?" he asked darkly.

John squinted at him. "McKay, I can't believe you're already bringing pessimism to our brave new world."

With a dirty look, Rodney pressed the button.

A flash of bright light blinded him, and he once more felt the sensation of falling. This time, though, when the universe righted itself, he and Rodney weren't a lab. But they weren't in the time machine room, either. In fact, the room they were in was empty except for a single console covered in layers of dust and cobwebs. Dim light shone from the backup lights along the floor.

"Oh, great," Rodney said, obviously having a difficult time regaining his balance, "I hope we're not in a part of the city that's underwater. drowning wasn't really in my schedule today."

"At least there aren't any bugs this time," John murmured. But then he discreetly checked around for spiders, just in case.

While Rodney clutched the dusty wall for support, John waved his hand over the door crystals. It opened easily enough, and he wasn't met with a rush of water, which he thought was a good sign. The floor, however, was a little wet. And the empty, darkened corridor smelled a lot like fish.

He heard a low moaning sound coming from down the hall. Switching the safety of his sidearm, he called quietly, "McKay."

Fumbling, Rodney tucked his tablet under his arm and pulled the life signs detector out of the pocket of his jacket. "There are several life signs up ahead," he said grimly.

What ever they were, they probably weren't Ancient. John took a few steps forward, and then he gestured for Rodney to follow him. Together, they walked as quietly as they could through the wet corridor. The puddles under John's feet splashed with every step. Soon enough, he was able to tell that the moaning was coming from one specific room; the door was shut, but even through the heavy material, John could hear sounds inside.

"I think I know where we are," Rodney whispered loudly. His breath puffed against the back of John's neck. "We're on the same floor as the time machine."

John nodded mutely. He held up his fingers so Rodney could see and began counting down. At the count of three, he waved his hand over the door crystal.

The room was full of creatures John had never seen before, in either galaxy. They were broad and tall, taller than Ronon, with rough, grey skin and round heads that sat atop thicks torso with no necks. They were wearing orange jumpsuits. They were--

"Holy crap," John said, "they're whales."

"They can't be whales," said Rodney.

At that, all the whales in the room swiveled their big, black eyes to stare directly at them. They were utterly and creepily silent. One of them hobbled forward on its fin-like feet, stopping several feet away from where John and Rodney were standing. Rodney took a step back, swallowing audibly, but John refused to be afraid of a bunch of sea mammals.

John raised a hand in greeting. "Hey. I'm John, and this is Rodney."

They stared at him silently.

"We come in peace," he added. When that got no response, he said, "Uh, live long and prosper?"

"They probably don't understand English," Rodney hissed at him. "Great, just great, we get sent back in time, and now Atlantis is full of these--" He stopped suddenly, looking at the closest whale with a bewildered expression. "Sam?"

The whale pointed its hand fin at McKay. "Kill the fat one!" it screeched.

"Of course," Rodney said flatly.

The rest of the whales made a high-pitched shrieking noise. Things were about to go really bad really fast, John realized. He darted from the room as fast as he could, shoving Rodney along. The whales followed, shouting things like "Land-dwelling monsters!" and "Fresh meat!"

For creatures without feet, they were surprisingly fast; they didn't stop until John fired a warning shot above their heads. While they were hesitating, John turned the corner, Rodney at his heels. At the next junction, he started to turn left, toward the transporters, but Rodney grabbed his arm and yelled, "No, no, go right! The time machine room's this way!"

When they got to the room -- which, thankfully, still had the time machine -- John shut the door and pulled out the control crystals. He knew the whales weren't that far behind them.

Rodney wiped a hand over his brow. "Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?"

"Killer whales," John said with a smirk.

"Oh, ha ha. Good one, Colonel." He grimaced. "Why didn't you shoot them?"

John stared at him. "They're an endangered species, Rodney," he said.

"They were going to kill me!" Rodney insisted. John raised an eyebrow at him. "And... probably you too."

"I have to say, I didn't expect Atlantis to be overrun by whales," John said, scratching his head.

"What did you expect?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. Happy things, I guess."

"Like sunshine and rainbows?" Rodney asked sarcastically. He crossed his arms over his chest and sneered at John. "Everyone holding hands and singing 'Kumbaya'?"

"No," John retorted, feeling embarrassed and disappointed. That wasn't exactly what he had been thinking, but he had expected things to be better than when he had left. That was why he had wanted to change the past to begin with. He wasn't doing this because it was fun. (Well, it was a little fun, he amended; it made him feel like a Time Agent.)

As if sensing John's conflicting emotions, Rodney ran out of steam. His shoulders sagged a little. "Well, what now, Colonel?"

"We need to fix this. Activate the time machine."

He had always wanted to say that. Rodney looked disgusted. "'Activate the'--? Well, I'm glad to see you're having fun with this. What is wrong with you?"

Something heavy pounded on the door.

"Activating the time machine," Rodney said hastily, and he placed his hand on the device.

They landed in some kind of Ancient cafe. Other than the clothes and the obviously alien food, they could have been on Earth, from the way the room was designed. It looked almost like this burrito place John used to eat at when he went to Stanford, with its bright, colourful decorations and its robust smells, right down to the cheesy acoustic music.

It didn't take John long to notice everyone was staring at them, which was probably because they had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a crowded restaurant. He had to admit it was a little weird, even for Atlantis. Some of the patrons had half-risen out of their seats, while others were gaping, open-mouthed. One of the waitresses was holding a bottle of some kind of fizzy drink that was foaming over onto her hands, but she wasn't moving to stop it.

Rodney was fighting with a waiter whose path he had walked into; the man was juggling four plates and was on the verge of tipping over. Yanking a plate of fish out of the waiter's hand, Rodney shouted, "For God's sake, give me that!" He looked down at what he was holding. "What do you know, this looks really good."

He grabbed the waiter's shirt collar. "Give me the recipe!"

"McKay," John murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"Fantastic," Rodney groaned as he realized they were being gawked at. He let go of the waiter, and the man stumbled backwards. To the stunned Ancients, Rodney explained loudly, in his best Chief of Science voice, "We're experimenting with... teleportation. No need for alarm. We miscalculated the, uh, trajectory of our..." He seemed to struggle with the word. "Our teleporting."

To John, it sounded like an obvious bluff, but the people seemed to buy it. They turned back to their meals, and a minute later, it was like it had never happened. Conversation resumed, waiters were ducking around them with full platters, and the man whose table John was standing next to actually gave him a glare, like John was ruining his evening. John rolled his eyes.

"I was serious about that recipe," Rodney threatened no one in particular.

Despite Rodney's instance that they could take a break to get a bite to eat, they managed to make it to the laboratory without an incident. If anyone they walked past noticed neither he nor Rodney were wearing typical Ancient clothes, they didn't say anything. John wondered if this meant the Ancients liked to mind their own business, or if they were just used to weird things happening around them. From the reaction of the people at the restaurant, he was guessing it was the latter.

"The iratus bugs are still alive," said John, when he realized nothing in the lab had changed. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. He really hated those things.

"Oh, thank God," Rodney exclaimed in a rush.

"Does that mean we're about to run into ourselves? That could be awkward."

"There's only one thing we can do," Rodney said.

John gazed at him expectantly.

"We have to create the Wraith," Rodney announced boldly.

"I'm not creating the Wraith," John said, narrowing his eyes.

"In case you didn't notice, we destroyed our timeline in order to make an Atlantis overrun by evil, miniature Flagecalluses! Our stopping the Wraith from being created made things worse."

John had to admit he was right; things weren't better, they were much, much worse. At least when the Wraith were around, so were humans. Disappointed, he put his hands on his hips. "Well, how are we going to stop ourselves?" he demanded. "I don't think waiting around and saying, 'Hey, would you mind letting the Wraith be created?' is really going to work."

"Yeah, you'd just get rid of the iratus bugs while our backs were turned," Rodney grumbled.

That did sound like something he would do. His gaze drifted to the wall as he attempted to think of a way out of this. Suddenly, he spotted the answer in a crate tucked beneath one of the lab benches: several large, woolen blankets.

He fished one out and held it up for Rodney to see. "Hey. Help me cover the tanks with these."

*

This time they flashed into an empty room. John was just glad they weren't in another public place; Rodney still had a bloodthirsty look in his eyes. Now if they could just guarantee Atlantis was whale-free, they would be great.

"There are considerably more, uh, people in the city this time," Rodney said as he studied the life signs detector. "Thousands of people, in fact."

"Where's your tablet?" John asked.

Rodney looked at him blankly for a moment, and then glanced around in shock. His eyes darted left and right as if hoping the tablet would magically appear out of thin air. "Goddammit," he said, "I must have left it in the past. You don't think someone found it, do you? Or-- Do you think we found it?"

John bit his lip. "There's only one way to find out."

When they opened the door, rather than stepping out into a corridor, they were in one of the main intersections in the central tower. The afternoon sun was shining brightly through the windows of the room directly across from where they were standing, but other than that, they were walled in.

The blue and copper walls were a familiar sight. Twenty flights of floors with railed balconies rose up around them. They were standing a few floors down from where Elizabeth and Grodin had set up the commissary back in their first year, except now it only vaguely resembled the tower in which John had gone to breakfast that morning. Enormous brown and maroon banners, on which a different hieroglyph was woven, were draped over every balcony. Even more surprising, the hall was bustling with people of all shapes, sizes, and colours, wearing the kinds of clothes John had learned to associate with the Pegasus Galaxy: leather armour, roped vests, flowing robes, silly hats. There were carts with various goods placed along the balconies and the main floor, much like a covered market; John could pick out the smells of spices and leather and sweat along with the usual scent of sea salt and crystals.

John curled his fingers around the railing and looked down. An even bigger market was on the main floor. He had seen places like this on missions, or even on Earth, but it was strange seeing it in Atlantis. His people had turned Atlantis into their home, but in a lot of ways, it was still a military and research outpost.

"I realize I'm not the most observant person, but I'm fairly certain Atlantis did not look like this when we left," Rodney said, sweeping a hand over the scene before them.

"No, this is new," John agreed, trying to keep from looking as weirded out as he felt. A woman with bright blue hair and a braided vest and skirt flirtatiously looked him up and down as she walked by, trailing her herd of goats behind her.

John was at a loss of what to do now. There weren't any whales in sight, and from where he was standing, it looked like Atlantis was flourishing. But he and Rodney had been trying to get the Ancients to create the Wraith and restore their timeline, not -- as his original plan was -- to save the galaxy by making sure the Wraith had never been created in the first place.

Had they unknowingly fixed things? Where were Ronon and Teyla? And better yet, who was in charge of this Atlantis?

He glanced over at Rodney, who was looking intently at the crowd below. His face was slightly flushed from their run through the corridors. As much as he trusted Rodney, John wasn't sure what Rodney would do if he said this was the end of the line; after all, Rodney hadn't wanted to mess with the timeline to begin with. He needed Rodney to back him up with whatever he decided to do. Not just that -- he needed Rodney to be okay with possibly spending the rest of his life with John in a city that was no longer theirs. No Keller, no Nobel Prize.

"McKay," John began, uncertain whether he was going to say they needed to leave things as they were or head back to the time machine room. He bit his lip. "Rodney..."

Before he could make up his mind, however, Rodney sniffed the air. "Do I smell french fries?" he asked, and John made a face at him.

"We have more important things to focus on right now than food," John said, irritated.

Rodney looked at him like he was nuts. "Are you kidding me? I certainly consider my survival to be a priority. Unless you have a plan, of course. You do have a plan, right, Colonel?"

John grimaced. "Of course I have a plan," he lied. "First, we need to... go down there." He nodded at an empty area on the main floor, partially shaded by both the balconies and a series of potted trees. From that spot, they would be able to look out over most of the main floor and almost all of the balconies of the right side of the tower.

He could feel Rodney rolling his eyes as John squared his shoulders and took the lead, with Rodney on their six. They had to shove their way past crowds of people going up and down the stairwell, a lot more people than were in John's Atlantis. As he and Rodney crossed the main floor, it became impossible not to notice they were getting plenty of strange looks from people, especially once Rodney whipped out the life signs detector and started waving it around, muttering, "Interesting."

John was used to local people staring at his team on missions, especially when exploring worlds that had yet to invent firearms or closed-toe shoes, but this was different; this left him with a bad taste in his mouth, particularly when they passed a group of teenagers who started whispering behind their hands. He wished he had thought to bring his sunglasses with him.

Rodney didn't seem to notice what was happening at all, too busy salivating over the different food carts, until someone bumped into John, nearly knocking him over. "Out of my way, traitors," he sneered before John could tell him to watch it. John had a sudden flashback to boarding school.

"What the hell is his problem?" Rodney said, looking outraged on John's behalf.

"I think it's our clothes," John said, watching a passerby eye the Canadian flag on Rodney's tac jacket with disgust.

They were sticking out like sore thumbs, with John in his zippered sweater and Rodney in his black t-shirt and tac jacket. The fact John was wearing his holster wasn't helping things; nothing they were wearing was colourful or made from animals. A good number of people were carrying sidearms of their own, but they were the typical bulky, oddly-shaped pistols John had learned to identify in the last few years. From how busy the city was, John was guessing the civilizations in this region probably all knew each other, and he and Rodney were obviously not wearing the traditional garb of their people. He wondered how Rodney would feel about changing into an Eskimo coat.

Whatever they were going to do -- whether it was get back to the time machine, or stick around for a while -- they were going to need to blend in.

"Look," he said, dragging Rodney to the empty corner behind the plants (under where the chemistry labs used to be in their Atlantis, he thought with a pang), "stay here while I get us something that won't draw so much attention."

"Why can't I come?" Rodney whined.

John clenched his teeth. "Because I said so, McKay."

Rodney gave him a meaningful look. "That never worked on me as a child, and it's certainly it's not going to work on me now, Colonel."

"Because I'm also going to go see if I can find someone who will tell me what the situation is," John explained carefully, "and I don't want you saying something... something you!"

"Oh," Rodney said. "You're right, that is a good reason. Hey, on your way back, could you see how much those shish kebabs cost? They're over by the--"

John left before Rodney could finish that sentence. Ignoring the suspicious, and sometimes confused, glances of the locals, he made his way through the sea of booths and carts. The floor wasn't divided into what was being sold, so John walked past what seemed like a little bit of everything. Some of the booths were selling metal and glass jewelry, some swords, and others food: there were tables covered with fruits and vegetables and cheese and meat (including something called a 'balak' that Ronon insisted on buying in bulk from PX9-763 every few months and was the only thing he kept in his mini-fridge). It reminded John of a market Teyla had taken the team to back in the first year, back when they had needed supplies from allies in order to survive. Teyla had bought a bunch of pillows and candles for her room and then had made Rodney help carry it back to Atlantis; Ford had traded a black cap for a miniature icon of an old woman he had said reminded him of his grandma. John remembered McKay and him teasing Ford by saying it was a doll; Ford's face had turned beet red, and he hadn't spoken to either of them for the rest of the day, relaying messages to them through a very annoyed Teyla.

Finally, John spotted exactly what he needed, stuck between a cart of sausages and a stand selling rainbow-coloured candles: a vendor selling long coats that would help hide their gear. The vendor himself, who was short and portly, was wearing an ankle-length black trench coat over a fitted leather shirt and trousers. A box hat was perched on the top of his head.

"How much?" John asked, fingering the material of a black coat.

"Twelve kurants each for the leather," the vendor said cheerfully. He pulled a long, olive green one off the rack and held it up. "Twenty for the wool. For material this good, it's a steal."

John wondered how much a 'kurant' was; it wasn't one of the currencies he had ever encountered off world. When he saw John hesitating, the vendor grabbed John's wrist and held it up. "This is nice," he said, gazing at John's watch. He ignored John's flinch. "I've never seen a time-piece like this. I'll give you two coats for it, your pick."

John was going to miss that watch; it had both an American eagle on its face that lit up and when he touched a button, it played Walk Like an Egyptian. But it was more important he and Rodney stay inconspicuous for now. Licking his lips, he pulled it off and said, "I'll take the black one and the brown one." He pointed to the two he wanted. They both looked big enough.

But when he handed the watch to the vendor, the man paused. "Before I accept, I have to ask, where did you get it?" he asked suspiciously. "It's not Genii, is it? I can't take it if it's Genii."

"Uh, no," John replied, giving the man an innocent smile. He thought fast. 'Fossil' probably wasn't the name of a planet. "I got it from Athos."

At that, the vendor snorted and handed the coats over to John. They were heavier than he expected. He immediately held them to his chest, hoping they covered his holster and sidearm and didn't make him look even more obvious. Maybe he should buy a hat, too. They wore cowboy hats in the Pegasus Galaxy, right?

"Athosians," said the vendor, lips twisting. "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

That didn't sound good at all; with a sinking feeling, John wondered where Teyla was.

"Listen, I'm new in town," he began, struggling to keep the smile on his face, "and I was hoping you would help me out with something."

The man looked him up and down. Now that he had been paid, it seemed like he was through with John. "Depends on what that 'something' is, stranger."

John tilted his head to the side. Going for casual, he said, "Well, I was wondering if you could give me the basic low-down."

"Low-down," repeated the vendor, sounding the word out.

"Yeah, you know, like who's in charge here?"

"The Emperor, obviously," he said haughtily.

John frowned; he hadn't met an emperor before. "Emperor, huh?" he asked. "Is the he a Lantean?"

The vendor looked scandalized. "Of course not!" he gasped. "The venerable Emperor would never be one of those filthy, lying Alterans."

He seemed to look at John then -- really look at him. His eyes narrowed dangerously. John had seen that look many times before, usually right before someone kidnapped him or shot him or started screaming for help or, on one memorable occasion, burst into song.

"Where did you say you were from?" asked the vendor.

"Oh, here and there," John said, taking a few steps back. "Enjoy the watch."

Before the vendor could get out another word, John took off in the direction from which he had came. He heard a, "Hey!" behind him, but he ducked between two fruit carts and kept going. A few minutes later, he realized he wasn't going in the right direction at all; nothing around him looked familiar. He had been sure this was the way to the balcony.

Bemused, he stood in the middle of the crowd until he saw a familiar red cloud over one of the tables. That particular vendor was selling bottles of brightly-coloured liquids that had red smoke rising from them, and John had been able to see that from the corner where he had left McKay. He jerked his head to the left and, sure enough, there was the row of potted trees. He could just make out the top of Rodney's head.

Rodney was still waiting where John had left him. He looked more annoyed than worried. "What took you so long?"

"Got lost," John grunted.

Snorting, Rodney said, "I should have known."

"Something weird's-- What'd you trade for that?"

Rodney was eating what looked like purple french fries out of a paper cone. He stopped chewing. "Trade?"

"You stole it?" demanded John. They'd only been in this universe for twenty minutes.

"I was hungry!" Rodney insisted, mouth full of purple mush.

John tried to grab it out of his hands, but Rodney was clutching the fries like they were made from weapons-grade naquada. "Aren't you not supposed to touch things when you go back in time, because it could alter the timeline?" John asked.

"Only if you learned about time travel from the Simpsons," Rodney said sarcastically. "Besides, I'm sure they have bigger things to worry about than two time travelers--" John tried very, very hard to quelsh his glee at being called that. "--stealing french fries from a cart."

A loud commotion drew John's attention back to the market. "Help! I've been robbed!" a vendor cried. "Thief! Thief!"

"Okay, time to go," Rodney said, tossing the empty cone over his shoulder.

He grabbed Rodney's arm and pulled him down so they were hidden behind the plants. His knees hit a mound of soft soil. Four men in leather uniforms and carrying massive guns -- Lantean cops or something -- passed their hiding place and disappeared back into the crowd.

"Like I was saying," John said quietly, "something weird's going on here. I traded my watch--"

"Really?" Rodney raised his head, astonishment flitting across his face. "But you love that stupid watch."

"I traded my watch for information," he continued a little louder, "and the guy said he couldn't take it if it was Genii-built. He said it was because of the war."

Rodney rose to his feet. He gazed down at John with a fuddled expression. "The Ancients are at war with the Genii?" he asked.

"I'm not sure these are Ancients," John answered. Something about this whole set-up was hinky. "Let's just say the guy I was talking to didn't seem very enlightened. He wasn't like any of the Ancients I've ever met. Or, hell, like any of those Asuran wanna-be's, either."

"You mean he wasn't 'Ancienty' enough for you?" Rodney asked sarcastically. He glanced down at his dirt-stained pants and sighed. "Great. I just washed these."

John uncurled from his crouch and stood. His knees popped audibly. "He said there's no way an Ancient could be in charge of Atlantis."

Rodney stopped dusting potting soil off his knees to look at John. "That doesn't sound good," he agreed finally.

"You said it. Here, put this on."

He tossed Rodney the heavy leather coat. Rodney looked at it dubiously, but he pulled it on over his jacket without a word. It fell down to his knees and looked like something Ronon would wear (after personally skinning the animal himself), but it looked good. It looked better than good, actually, and John scratched the back of his neck and tried not to stare at the way it framed Rodney's shoulders and made him look all tough and dangerous, like a bounty hunter. Or an X-wing pilot. Keller would probably love to see him like that, John thought miserably.

"Where'd you get this, a dumpster?" Rodney asked, sniffing his arm. "Ugh, it smells like cheap aftershave. Did you rub your face all over this before giving it to me?"

Rolling his eyes, John shrugged on the black coat he had bought for himself. It was a little Maxtrix-y, but it fit alright. Hopefully, they would blend in more now. "Yes, Rodney," he said, "that's exactly what I did."

Rodney looked up, gave him a dirty look, and held it. John kept his annoyed expression for as long as possible, but soon enough, he felt his lips twitching in a smile. Suddenly, Rodney snorted and giggled, and they were laughing, both of them full of nervous excitement. After all the crazy shit that had happened to them today, John was glad it was coming out as laughter and not something worse, like when John had to tell everyone he'd lost Elizabeth and he had thought he was going to cry right in front of everyone, and Ronon had hugged him and wouldn't let him get away. John hadn't been able to look the big guy -- or Zelenka or Teyla or Campbell -- in the eye for nearly a week.

Rodney looked at John and smiled crookedly. "Well," he said.

"Well," John said in response. He grinned. "Want to go explore Atlantis?"

They didn't garner as much attention this time as they checked out the market. The coats did their job. It also helped that Rodney had put away the life signs detector and was trying to act halfway normal. As normal as Rodney McKay could be, at any rate.

While Rodney was busy openly staring at a pair of scantily-clad women selling lingerie, John let his eyes wander over the floor. His gaze drifted over to his right just in time to see things were about to go downhill, fast. The coat vendor John had been talking to earlier was speaking to two men who were clearly guards of some sort, making wide, sweeping gestures in John and Rodney's direction; the guards were carrying heavy rifles and were donned in black leather. One of them had cornrows in his hair, and the other was wearing a helmet.

"We've got a problem," John said.

Just as he expected, the vendor met John's eyes and pointed directly at him and Rodney.

"Crap," John breathed. "McKay, we need to get out of here."

The guards barreled through the crowd towards them, shoving people aside. They were coming fast. He heard the very familiar sound of laser pistols being powered up.

All at once, the market's occupants seemed to realize something was happening. The crowd scattered in every direction, effectively blocking the guards from John and Rodney; the stand nearest to them, which was selling blown glass, was overturned, the bottles shattering all over the floor. Screams and shouts broke out, and John could hear someone bellowing, "In the name of the Emperor, stand down! Stand down!"

"What now, Colonel?" Rodney shouted in his ear.

"If we get separated, meet me at the transporter," John yelled back.

John caught Rodney's nod right before he was swallowed into the mob. He caught one last look at Rodney's terrified face, and then he was surrounded by frightened strangers on all sides. He pulled out his sidearm and headed for the nearest exit, which he knew from experience was up ahead; if he could get to the corridor leading to the sky walk, he could take the transporter from the next building and meet Rodney at the one at this tower.

He saw a flash out of the corner of his eye. This time it wasn't one of the guards aiming for him; a vendor of one of the food carts was fumbling for a sidearm of his own, heedless of the hundreds of people around them. John locked gazes with him just as he raised his weapon level to John's chest. He was close enough to see a bead of sweat slide down the side of the man's face.

John had locked on the guy's shoulder and was about to open fire when someone crashed into his back. He hit the ground, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him; his Beretta went spinning into the crowd and disappeared between a dozen pairs of feet.

John's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise. "Oh, shit," he swore, raising himself up onto his elbows.

He shoved himself back to his feet. The guy who had been aiming at him was gone now, and straight ahead was the door to the sky walk. John dodged a mother and her shrieking child. He was nearly there when a warning shot was fired in the air; someone screamed loudly. John slid to a stop. The moving crowd around him was too thick to duck into, and even without worrying whether or not someone would get hurt, he was useless without his gun. He really should have brought his P-90.

A voice that was all-too familiar called out, "Stop at once."

Cringing, John raised his arms in the air in surrender.

"Genii spy, give up or your friend is dead."

John rolled his eyes to the ceiling and thought desperately for a way to get them out of this. But he had nothing. Slowly, he turned around to find the guard with the cornrows had his pistol pointed directly at Rodney's temple. Rodney, to his credit, looked simultaneously scared and embarrassed. He met John's eyes and winced slightly.

The other guard, the one who had warned John to stop, was none other than Tyre the Satedan. He was looking pretty good for a dead guy. That bad feeling John had earlier returned and increased two-fold.

"Tyre," John said tightly.

Tyre smirked. His helmet was tucked under his arm, and with his other hand, he was pointing a pistol at John's face. "I see you've heard of me."

"You could say that," John replied.

Tyre stepped forward and socked him in the jaw, sneering, "Traitor." John collapsed to his knees as pain blossomed in the lower half of his face. He couldn't stop himself from making a low groan. He heard Rodney yell, "John!" and then there were sounds of struggling and Rodney crying out in pain.

John managed to stagger back to his feet. He spat blood onto the deck. "That all you got?" he asked.

After five years of Kolya, Michael, Todd, Wraith queens, Asurans, cyborg Asgard, and creepy iratus/human hybrids, one short Satedan didn't really scare him.

"When the Emperor is through with you, you'll wish I had killed you," said Tyre.

Oh, right. The Emperor. John had forgotten about him. Maybe he hadn't thought this out very well.

"Can't wait," he lied.

As they were cuffed and shoved towards the transporters, John thought he saw a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head in time to catch a glimpse of someone who looked like General O'Neill in full mission gear, halfway hidden behind a corner. But when John twisted around to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, O'Neill was gone. John received a hard smack on the back of his head from the unnamed guard.

"What'd you do that for?" Rodney murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"I thought I saw O'Neill," John whispered back, gritting his teeth through the stinging pain in the back of his skull that matched the soreness in his jaw. Rodney blinked at him blankly. "Must've been wishful thinking."

"No talking!" barked the guard who wasn't Tyre.

"Where are you taking us?" Rodney demanded shakily.

"To see the Emperor."

"Oh, the Emperor," Rodney said. He glanced at John with wide eyes. "What do you think the chances are this Emperor is a kind, generous old man, and not a raging psychopath?"

John looked back at him and raised his eyebrows. "About the same as Tyre being on the path to enlightenment."

"I heard that," said Tyre.

*

Chapter Three

The Emperor, it turned out, was Ronon.

As the leader of his people, Emperor Ronon Dex had turned one of the larger briefing rooms into a throne room, complete with a massive blue and green crystal throne that actually looked as if it belonged to the city. It was against the wall, between two wall hangings that bore the design of Ronon's neck tattoo. The wall to John's left was one giant window that overlooked much of Atlantis.

For the first time, John was able to see that Atlantis had recently been in a battle. Some of the towers were scorched or even had their tops lopped off. Over a few of the towers were what looked like zeppelins, carrying scaffolds and workers to finish reconstruction. Smoke rose from the western corner of the city.

The view outside was the first thing John noticed. The second thing was Ronon lounging in the throne. He was sitting sideways in it, with one leg thrown over the arm, and his other foot on the floor. Several bowls of food rested on the floor around him.

"Ronon," John started to say, but the name stuck in his throat. Beside him, Rodney went completely still.

John hadn't had much time to think about it, what with the time traveling and the whales and everything, but he had honestly not expected to see either Ronon or Teyla ever again. Realizing this now made his knees go weak; he would do anything for them, he would give his life to save them, he would destroy a timeline so they could grow up in a nice, Wraith-free galaxy, but he really wasn't emotionally prepared for living without them. He'd gone six weeks on Earth thinking his life on Atlantis was over, and it had been some of the worst weeks of his life. He still had Rodney, who he felt, you know, whatever about, but Ronon and Teyla were his best friends. The four of them were a family.

He didn't know how much of it showed on his face, but Rodney threw him a look of concern. Ronon just raised his eyebrows at him. With his crystal throne and his nice clothes, he was actually a lot more intimidating than normal Ronon. He was wearing a fitted leather jacket, dark slacks, and hunter green tunic opened to reveal his muscular chest; it nicer than anything John had ever seen him wear, and it was obviously tailored instead of the usual hand-made stuff Ronon liked. The tattoo on his neck was different as well. It was more intricate, as if it had been added to over the years.

Yet the biggest shock was his hair: it was cut short and wavy, which was a lot hotter on him than John would ever have expected. But the way his eyes sparkled was all Ronon. He looked good, actually. He looked confident and content, without all that baggage Ronon had always carried from being a Runner. He also looked kind of scary.

"What's going on here, Tyre?" Ronon asked. He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of what looked like blue tortilla chips out of one of the bowls at his feet.

"We found some Genii infiltrators, my lord," Tyre said proudly, raising his voice so Ronon could hear him over his crunching.

"We're not Genii," John argued. He glared at Tyre, who looked back at John with a cold, even gaze.

"Yeah?" Ronon asked. "Then who are you?"

When Ronon absently rubbed his crumb-covered hand on his trousers, he suddenly looked more like the Ronon John knew, who respected John but still thought he was silly, who liked to watch movies and wrestle, and less like a stranger who might possibly order to them to their deaths.

Rodney must have felt the same way, because he bravely took a step forward. "We ask the questions here," he said, jutting out his chin stubbornly. John winced to himself. "Where are the Ancients? The-- the Ancestors?"

"Killed 'em," Ronon said casually. John swallowed thickly. "But you would know that, since you're Genii."

"Didn't you hear him the first time? We're not Genii."

Ronon wasn't smiling anymore. "Then I'll ask again: who are you?" he demanded.

Rodney glanced at John before crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm Doctor Rodney McKay, this is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, and we're time travelers," he said, point blank.

Ronon let out an abrupt laugh. John groaned, "McKay," and Rodney snapped, "What? What are we supposed to do, lie to him?"

"Time travelers, huh?" Ronon asked. He grinned toothily, and John tensed. "That's a good one. You're funny."

Rodney seemed at a loss for words. "I-I am?" he stammered. "Oh, well, thank you."

"So if you're not Genii, why're you wearing uniforms?"

"This is the ceremonial dress of our people," John said hastily, before Rodney could say something that would get them both killed.

Nonplussed, Ronon asked, "And the weapons?"

"Accessories," John replied, giving Ronon his most innocent smile.

"That is the worst lie I have ever--" Rodney started hissing in his ear. Without letting his smile fade, John elbowed him in the stomach. Rodney let out a quiet "oof."

"The time travel story was more convincing," Ronon said.

John closed his eyes. He was out of ideas. At this point, telling the truth was probably their only option. "McKay's right," he said, opening his eyes again, "we really have been time traveling We accidentally went back into the past and changed things, and now everything's all screwed up. We're trying to go back and fix it. None of this is supposed to be happening. In our timeline, you're our friend -- you're one of my best friends." He stumbled a little over the last part, embarrassed.

Ronon's eyebrows shot up. "You and me?" he asked, not sounding like he believed it. He started chuckling.

Offended, John rose himself to his full height. "Yes, you and me," he said. "And Rodney here, and Teyla--"

"Teyla?" Ronon interrupted. He dropped both feet to the ground as leaned forward, the look on his face changing completely, from mild boredom to keen interest. "You're saying in this other universe, Teyla Emmagan's on my team?"

"On my team, yeah," John replied uncertainly. He glanced at Rodney; Rodney shrugged. "I'm the team leader."

"Yeah?" Ronon looked at Rodney. "And what do you do?"

"I'm a scientist," Rodney said. He looked genuinely puzzled at Ronon's question, and he didn't even try to boast about his genius-level IQ or about how many times he had saved Ronon's life with his mighty brain.

Ronon pushed himself to his feet and moved so close John could have reached out and touched him if he wasn't worried Ronon and Tyre would beat the crap out of him. "So, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," Ronon asked, smirking without any trace of amusement, "why would I want to go back to this other universe where you're the boss of me? In my universe, I'm the leader of the Satdean Empire." He spread his arms. "I've conquered five worlds and crippled a dozen more. People throughout the galaxy either fear me or worship me. My life is awesome."

He poked John in the chest with a finger. "What's so great about your universe?"

"Well, that... is a very good question," John said. He didn't think 'but you're my friend' would work a second time. "I'll have to get back to you on that."

Looking at it that way, John had to wonder if maybe they did fix things after all. Ronon was the leader of his people, Atlantis was prospering, there weren't any Wraith or Replicators, and even though the man at the market had said the Athosians were gone, that didn't necessarily mean Teyla wasn't out there living it up. This timeline seemed alright. If he could convince Ronon to let them go, maybe he and Rodney could start a life together in the city. Rodney could get a job in a lab, and John... had skills. It wouldn't be the first time he had started over; he had done it before when his father had disowned him, and again when he had moved to another galaxy without knowing whether or not he would ever see Earth again, and, more recently, with Teer in the cloister.

"Wait, I'm sorry, but did you say earlier you killed the Ancients?" Rodney piped up suddenly.

"Yup," Ronon said. He took a seat back on his throne. "Every last one of them. They wouldn't share their technology with us, so we had to make them pay."

On second thought, maybe things weren't going that well. John didn't think he liked this Ronon very much.

"Oh, of course, that makes perfect sense," Rodney said sarcastically. "I don't suppose you realized you need a specific gene to work the technology in this city? How did you plan on getting around that, hmm?"

"Do you have this gene?"

John knew what was about to happen. "Rodney--" he began sharply, trying to get Rodney to shut up, but it was too late.

"Of course I do," Rodney scoffed.

Ronon grinned toothily. "Good. Tyre," he called, "take him down to the labs."

"Wait!" Rodney looked at John frantically as Tyre and one of the other guards came up behind Rodney and grabbed both his arms.

"Ronon, stop!" John yelled, struggling against his restraints. The guard to his right shoved his firearm against the back of John's neck, which was the only thing stopping him from launching himself at Tyre. He was no use to Rodney dead.

John couldn't do anything while the guards dragged Rodney away, Rodney shouting, "John!" the whole way. He watched as Rodney disappeared through the door, his heart pounding and his hands clenched into fists.

With his grin firmly in place, Ronon sauntered up to John, stopping only a few inches away. He leaned down; his breath smelled like garlic and that smelly Genii cheese all Ronons in all the realities must have liked. "I have a special job for you, Sheppard," he said menacingly, gazing at John the same way a snake would look at a mongoose.

He had to be brave for Rodney. "Are you going to make me one of your concubines?" John asked, raising his chin.

Ronon frowned, hastily straightening back up. "Uh, no."

"Oh," John said disappointedly.

*

The first thing the Satedans did was make Rodney change out his Atlantis uniform and into what he assumed was the uniform of a prisoner. It consisted of a pair of black trousers and a black shirt with a high collar. It buttoned diagonally. It reminded Rodney uncomfortably of something from the Eighties, a time period he had been spent the last twenty years vehemently repressing. His captors spent a few minutes poking the Maple Leaf on the sleeve of his tac jacket before shoving him in -- ironically -- his own lab.

"This is just great," he said to the locked door. "Just perfect."

But unlike his lab back in his own universe, this one was filled with people. Tired-looking people with poor hygiene who were working in near-darkness. Some of the equipment was different, too, but that was to be expected, being in an alternate reality and all. And this probably meant he'd be forced to go without a personal laptop. It was like Russia all over again. All he needed now was for General Chekov to show up and start demanding miracles.

He glared at some of the lackeys who had gathered to stare at him. "Take a picture."

"What'd you do?" one of the men asked him.

"Went back in time and stopped the Ancients from creating the Wraith, thereby screwing up the timeline and causing Ronon to become the Pegasus version of Mussolini."

"I accidentally blew up my lab on Hoff," the guy offered, smiling blankly.

"Good for you," Rodney scoffed.

An excited whisper rippled through the lab. At first Rodney thought it was about him, but then someone hissed loudly, "Boss is coming."

Those gathered around Rodney hurried to their respective work stations and pretended to look busy, leaving him standing alone and worried in the middle of the lab. From the looks of things, this 'boss' was tough. Rodney tried not to fidget as panic tried to claw its way up his throat. It was just some prick who was going to assign him a task, he told himself; no worries, he was fine, Sheppard was fine, he'd be running this place in under a week, oh God, he was never getting out of here--

The boss rounded the corner and stopped between benches, arching a familiar eyebrow at Rodney.

"Teyla?" Rodney squeaked.

Teyla inclined her head at him. She pulled his life signs detector from the pocket of her lab coat. "I am Doctor Emmagan," she corrected. "You must be the new arrival, Mister... McCray?"

Her hair was long, almost as long as when they'd first met, and pulled back into a ponytail. Her blunt bangs were cut short across her forehead. The hair wasn't weird in and of itself, but her attire was: it was so... un-Teyla. She wore a modest pink tunic tucked into high-waisted tan pants, under a blue, knee-length jacket that resembled a lab coat more than anything worn for warmth. A pair of gold-framed glasses were perched on the end of her nose. She pushed them up with one finger when she noticed Rodney gawking at her.

"Of course," he said with clarity, snapping his fingers, "Ronon mentioned you, but I guess I was too busy worrying whether or not he was going to have us executed. Without the Wraith decimating your people, you would've gone to school-- did you call me McCray? No, no, no, it's McKay. Doctor Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD, foremost expert in astrophysics."

The unimpressed look on her face was so familiar he wanted to cry. "I am Science Director Teyla Emmagan," she said in response, raising her chin proudly, "a graduate of the Athosian Academy of Sciences, first class."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" he sneered.

She smiled. "Emperor Ronon said you would be difficult."

"Well, maybe if he hadn't imprisoned me--"

"If you want to see your friend again, you will cooperate, and furthermore, you will defer to me," Teyla interrupted. Rodney snapped his mouth shut. She smiled again. "Thank you. Doctor McKay, if you would be so kind as to tell me what you are good at, perhaps we could find you a job here that you would enjoy."

"What I'm good at?" Rodney repeated. "What I'm good at?"

So Rodney opened his mouth and told her exactly what his specialty was. And he kept telling her long after she ordered him to be quiet and go sit in the corner while she decided on what fresh new hell she planned on giving him. He continued to tell her just what he was 'good at' until she summoned one of the guards, who rushed towards Rodney with a particularly nasty expression on his face. At that point, he shut up.

Grudgingly, he perched on a stool at a bench in the far corner of the lab, where Teyla had ordered him to stay. The lights were even dimmer in that part of the room, thanks to heavy drapes covering the windows, and there were several other prisoners working diligently on various machinery around him. From here, he could see at least three people who were on the verge of either breaking something or electrocuting themselves. He could care less if some idiot shocked himself because he was sticking a piece of metal into an electrical outlet, but he hated the idea of a piece of valuable Ancient technology being damaged beyond repair because of ignorance.

Eventually, Rodney was assigned an unfamiliar device to fix. It was of typical Ancient design, even if he didn't know what it was for, and he managed to recalibrate the crystals in under forty-five minutes. When he handed it off to Teyla with a triumphant smirk, she immediately put another one in his hands. He felt his grin fade even as hers brightened.

Several hours and a god awful amount of machinery later, Teyla wandered by his bench. He was putting the finishes on his latest project -- some kind of environmental control unit much like a humidifier -- when a hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped at the unexpected touch, and turned to find Teyla standing over him.

"What the--?"

"Very good, Doctor McKay," Teyla said pleasantly. Her spectacles slipped down her nose a fraction. "I believe you are ready to move on to more complicated projects."

"You said I could see my-- my friend," Rodney said. It came out pitiful, and he hated himself a little for it.

"Perhaps if you complete all your work tomorrow, we can arrange a visit."

It was the thought of seeing Sheppard that made him swallow back a response that surely would have savagely ripped into her. He was terrified she would keep Sheppard away from him, or worse, have Sheppard tortured simply to punish him. His Teyla was nice, if not tough and sometimes bizarrely cryptic, but who knew what kinds of messed up things had happened to the Teyla in this reality. It had been Ronon, of all people, who had thrown him in this prison, after all.

*

At the end of his shift, Rodney was escorted by the same, and possibly only, guard to a room at the end of the corridor in which his (or Teyla's) lab was located. Every room on this floor was a laboratory in Rodney's universe -- mostly because he needed a spacious lab for himself, and also because spending his entire workday with most of the peons who worked for him would turn him homicidal -- but that didn't seem to be the case here. For the first time since he and Sheppard had been separated, he felt his spirits lift. Once he had a good night's sleep and a decent meal, perhaps he could work on freeing himself, finding Sheppard, and getting them back to their Atlantis.

Except when the guard opened the door, Rodney saw the room was filled to the brim with prisoners such as himself, sleeping on mats on the floor that looked an awful lot like the hard exercise mats from the gym. There had to have been at least thirty people sleeping side-by-side and head-to-foot, squeezed in there like sardines in a can. The stench of sweat hung in the air.

"Oh, come on!" Rodney said.

When he turned to complain to the guard, the door slid shut. He heard the controls lock. Infuriated, Rodney reached for the control panel to reprogram the door, but it had torn off the wall, leaving behind frayed wires and scorch marks. Disheartened, he realized he was stuck there.

Somehow, he managed to find a spot on the floor under the window. It was unusually dark in the room; the only light was coming from the strip of lighting on the floor that, Rodney knew from personal experience, would stay lit unless the ZPM was unplugged. When he managed to squeeze into the empty spot, he was being pressed in on all sides. "Move over," he hissed, which got him a "Shhh!" from somewhere near his feet. Whoever it was to the right of him muttered something that sounded derogatory, but she scooted her bum over a fraction of an inch. Rodney realized he was going to have to deal with it, even though he was being groped by strangers who probably couldn't remember the last time they bathed.

From his position on the floor, Rodney's gaze naturally fell on the window. The sky was practically pitch-black, except for the tiny pinpricks of stars that managed to shrine through the bright lights from the city. There was one significant thing missing, though. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, he forgot where Atlantis was and wondered what the hell had happened to the moons. Even during the day, at least one moon was always in view no matter where you stood in Atlantis.

Leaning on one elbow, he managed to push himself into a seated position and press his face against the window. There was, without a doubt, a distinct lack of moons.

Then he realized he was being an idiot -- in this reality, Atlantis was still on Lantea, not on M12-578. He laid back down, snorting at his own foolishness.

But then Rodney realized he should at least be seeing Lantea's moon; from the amount of stars he could see, it meant there were no clouds out, and he knew from experience all the rooms on this side of the corridor should have given him a direct view of Lantea's moon. He couldn't think of a good reason why he wouldn't be able to see it from where he lay.

Unfortunately, no matter how awake his mind was, his body was exhausted from all the running and time traveling he had done that day, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep. The last thing he thought before sleep overtook him was that he hoped Sheppard was okay.

The next day was a repeat of the day before. This time, however, Rodney finished his work at record-breaking speed and, before Teyla noticed him (she was on the other side of the room gently lecturing someone named Romalda over how to properly use a tool that looked like a cross between a screwdriver and a wrench), logged into the computer terminal next to his station. It was difficult to hack the computer systems, but not impossible -- he was a genius, after all -- but the only mention of Sheppard he could find put him in 'Sector D,' whatever that was. Just as long as Sheppard wasn't listed as dead, he thought to himself as he stared at the screen, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs.

It was another three days before Rodney couldn't take it anymore. All he could think about was where Sheppard might be, what they might be doing to him, and whether or not they could fix this god-forsaken universe. Also, the missing moon was really bothering him. In the middle of repairing what was obviously some kind of video game console, Rodney threw his screwdriver down and marched over to the nearest guard.

"I demand to see Teyla immediately," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The usual guard -- Pin, or maybe it was Pan -- looked aggravated. Rodney didn't care. "That's Doctor Emmagan to you," the man said stubbornly, gazing at Rodney like he was something he'd stepped in.

Rodney waved a hand. "Please, we've known each other for years. I demand to see her. Now."

Teyla's office turned out to be right across from Rodney's lab. In Rodney's own reality, her office was actually Zelenka's personal laboratory, which he like to keep dim and cold, or as Rodney liked to call it, Communist. Today Teyla was wearing a pale blue tunic tucked into black pants that were pulled up almost to her armpits. She still had on her lab coat and her glasses. Rodney was fairly certain she could still kick his ass.

"Hello, Doctor McKay," she said, shelving the heavy book she was reading. She smoothed down the front of her tunic. "Officer Pem says you wish to speak with me."

Rodney stared at her feet. "Are you wearing orthopedic shoes?"

She stiffened. "My footwear is none of your concern."

It took a great deal of restraint, but he managed to tear his eyes away from her atrocious shoes. He clasped his hands behind his back and hoped he looked intimidating. "I want to make a deal," he announced.

She looked amused. "A deal?" she repeated. "You are in no position to make deals, Doctor McKay."

"You prove to me that Sheppard's safe, and I don't blow up Atlantis."

The smile slid right off Teyla's face. "You would not do that," she said, but she didn't sound confident.

He crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. "Try me. I know this city inside and out. Your protocols and security measures are laughable; trained monkeys could hack into your system. I hacked into your mainframe within the first hour I was here, just so I could turn up the air conditioning. Do you know how many flaws in your network I've found since then? Believe me, you-- you--"

Hastily, he tried to come up with something horrible to call Teyla, but it was hard; she was Teyla. "You skinny, four-eyed, simple-minded... tramp!"

She gasped in outrage.

He barreled on. "You heard me. I was writing data encryption programs like yours when I was a baby. Well, not literally, because the internet wasn't available to the public until I was in my twenties -- but you get the idea. What I'm trying to say is, I can and will end the life of everyone in Atlantis if I don't speak to Colonel Sheppard within the next twenty-four hours."

When he was done, Teyla was staring at him. Had he not known her as well as he did, he would have thought she was calm, but he had seen that look on her face literally hundreds of times: underneath her deadpan expression, she was enraged. In fact, she was beyond enraged. If this was his Teyla, he knew, he would be dead by now, but this reality's Teyla seemed frozen in place, as if she had no idea what to do next. Either that, or she was about to round kick him in the balls.

Slowly, Teyla's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Well?" he asked finally, bracing himself for pain.

"Who told you I was a tramp?" she demanded. Her hands were clenched into fists. "Was it Ronon Dex? That man is so infuriating!"

Rodney blinked. That was not the direction he had seen this conversation going. "Uh," he started.

She sucked in a few deep, furious breaths and began pacing back and forth. Rodney had never seen Teyla do that before. "Is it not enough I am constantly put down for being the only female director in the Ministry of Science, or that he is always in my laboratory questioning my work?" she asked, although he had a feeling she wasn't speaking to him. "Now he is spreading rumours about me?"

"No," he tried to tell her.

"I am so angry," she announced, completely ignoring him.

It seemed she had forgotten about him entirely. The last time he had seen Teyla this out of control, she had been pushing a person out of her vagina. Rodney contemplated whether or not he could sneak away without her noticing.

"The Ronon Dex I know would never call you something like that," he found himself saying, wringing his hands.

She stopped pacing and turned to meet his eyes. "You know Emperor Ronon? How? I thought you were Genii?"

"For Christ's sake," he muttered. "No, I'm not Genii! I know Ronon because-- because I'm from an alternate reality. A reality where Ronon and I -- and you and I -- are friends."

Teyla frowned skeptically. "How is that possible?"

Rodney sighed. "Because Sheppard and I mistakenly altered the timeline. The Ancients -- the Ancestors -- were supposed to make something-- something unimportant right now. But we stopped them, and then we thought we fixed it, but obviously we didn't, because now Ronon's evil and you're wearing high waters and everything's wrong. You see, because we altered the timeline so far back in our own timeline, we--"

"I am familiar with the theory," Teyla cut in. She raised an eyebrow.

"Of course you are," he stammered.

From the unimpressed look on her face, he suspected she did not exactly believe him. He got that look from her a lot, but usually it was for more banal circumstances, like when he claimed he hadn't stolen her powerbar out of her pack when her back was turned. If he had been in her position, however, and someone had claimed to have a time machine, he would have demanded to be the first to examine it regardless of whether or not he believed them, so he wasn't surprised when Teyla insisted, "You will take me to your time machine."

Rodney stiffened. "No," he replied. "Not until I see Sheppard first."

Teyla gave him a narrow-eyed look. "Doctor McKay, that was not a request. I am ordering you to take me to your time machine."

Normally, that tone from her would have worked. "And I'm saying no, not until I'm guaranteed my friend is safe and unharmed," he snapped.

Her expression shifted slightly, and Rodney could tell she was on the verge of giving in. It was the same expression she used when Sheppard whined at her, or when Ronon asked for her dessert.

"Time machine," he reminded her, sing-song.

She closed her eyes. Abruptly, her hand darted out and waved over the door crystal. Rodney flinched as the door slid open to reveal Officer Pin or whoever awaiting her orders. "Officer Pem, please take Doctor McKay back to the lab." To Rodney, she added gently, "I will see what I can do."

Mouth dry, all Rodney could do was nod.

*

The next day, just as he settled down to do his work, Pin or Pan or whoever walked up to him. Rodney froze, gripping his screwdriver-slash-wrench tightly. Teyla had either given into his demands, or she was about to tell him to go fuck himself. He would never see Sheppard again. He was going to die here, alone and insignificant, in a reality he himself had created.

"Doctor Emmagan wishes to see you," Pern ordered.

"Yes, of course," Rodney managed.

When Rodney arrived in Teyla's office, standing in the centre of the room was a lone man in black. The man's shoulders were drawn up nearly to his ears. Rodney's heart stuttered in his chest.

"John?" he blurted.

Sheppard's head snapped up. "Rodney?" The tension visibly drained out of him, and the tight lines around his eyes softened. "Hey."

Unlike Rodney's own Eighties get-up, Sheppard was wearing a black leather surcoat (Rodney hated Renaissance planets) over a long-sleeved black shirt and black trousers. It wasn't exactly like something their universe's Ronon would wear, but it was close enough; Ronon did, after all, like to wear vests made from monstrous beasts he personally slew. Sheppard's hair was more wild than usual, and his eyes held a bright, fevered look. He was still clean-shaven, however, which hopefully meant he had access to clean facilities.

"You look terrible," Rodney said, trying not to notice the way the belted surcoat emphasized Sheppard's narrow waist. Instead he stared at Sheppard's unattractively skinny legs sticking out from under the surcoat's skirt (ha!). It was because of that he noticed the dark red stain on the edge of Sheppard's sleeve.

"Are you bleeding?" he asked, heart pounding.

Sheppard grimaced and raised his arm. "No, it's ketchup." Rodney must have looked as flabbergasted as he felt, because Sheppard added, grimly, "I've been in the work camps."

Rodney felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Are you-- are you okay?" Needing to verify for himself that Sheppard was okay, he reached out, and it wasn't until he hand both hands grasping Sheppard's shoulders that he remembered Sheppard wasn't big on touching. "They didn't do anything to you, did they? What am I saying, it was a work camp, of course they did horrible, awful things to you."

"Yeah, I don't think I'm ever going to get the grease out of my skin."

"They greased you up?" Rodney asked shrilly. He tried very, very hard not to picture that. "For what?"

Sheppard stepped forward until they were practically nose-to-nose. "The work camp was a fast food joint."

"Huh?"

Rolling his eyes, Sheppard replied, "Rodney, we're on a planet ruled by Ronon. They have six meals a day here. Actually, I'm pretty sure the entire culture revolves around food. Their idea of inservitude is working twelve-hour shifts at the Satedan Micky D's."

"Really?" Rodney asked. He was horribly, ridiculously relieved at that. The thought of Sheppard in some work camp, slaving away, maybe being held down and forced to perform oral sex on his fellow prisoners... Terrible. It was terrible, and not at all exciting.

Sheppard glanced around the room before lowering his voice. "Listen, I've been talking to people. Things aren't so good here. Apparently, the Satedans and the Genii have been trying to wipe each other out for the last ten years. They're conquering other planets to use in their war. Millions of people have died."

"So once more, by making things better, we actually made them worse. You know, repeatedly ruining the universe is going to give me chronic self-esteem issues."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Way to make it all about you, Rodney," he said, but he was smiling.

"Nice skirt, by the way."

Sheppard self-consciously ran a hand over his chest. "They took my clothes. That was my favourite sweater, too."

"I could tell by the way it was the only one you ever wore," Rodney said with a huff. He shook his head. "I'll buy you a hundred identical black sweaters when we get home, okay?"

Beneath his hands, Rodney could feel more of the tension leave Sheppard's shoulders. "When we get home," Sheppard said, the relief evident in his voice. "Yeah. What about you, did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Rodney replied. It shocked him to realize he was telling the truth. "Aside from my back hurting, no thanks to the torture devices they call sleeping mats. I've mainly been working in the labs, trying to repair their microwaves and televisions. Frankly, it's been humiliating."

The door whispered opened, and Teyla entered, wearing her ubiquitous blue lab coat and her pants pulled up under her armpits. It occurred to Rodney he and Sheppard were standing embarrassingly close together, and he realized just how this looked. He jumped back, in case she was going to get any ideas about using Sheppard against him. Again.

Sheppard gave him a long look, perplexed, before he seemed to realize just who was in the room with them. "Teyla!" he exclaimed hoarsely. Then he noticed what Teyla was wearing. He squinted at her. "Teyla?"

If she noticed the tone in his voice, she didn't react to it. Inclining her head, she greeted him with a polite, "Hello, Mr Sheppard. I trust you are well?"

"Yeah, uh," Sheppard said. He glanced at Rodney with unease, and then his gaze shifted back to Teyla. "I didn't know you were here."

She raised an eyebrow. "Where else would I be?"

Sheppard looked panicked. "Uh." He gave her a wide, false smile. "Great to see you. You look good."

"Please," Rodney muttered in an undertone.

"Doctor McKay has informed me it is very important that you return to your time machine," Teyla said bluntly.

Sheppard glared at Rodney. "He's right. It's very important."

"What?" Rodney asked. Sheppard's lips thinned, and it occurred to Rodney what he was mad about. "Oh, come on. She brought you here, didn't she?"

Stiffly, Teyla added, "It was not as though I had a choice."

Rodney winced and muttered, "Dammit." Sheppard stared at him in disbelief. "Rodney, what did you do?" he demanded in a tone that more than implied he thought Rodney had screwed things up.

He couldn't look Sheppard in the eye. "I may have promised her she could see the time machine," he told the wall. "Oh, and also that I wouldn't blow up Atlantis."

"McKay!"

Teyla came to his rescue by placing a hand on Sheppard's arm. She said, "I would very much like to see the time machine."

Sheppard's brow knitted. "You would?"

"Teyla's the Director of Science," Rodney boasted.

"Really?" Sheppard asked.

She didn't seem to like that reaction, from the way her expression clouded.

"No offense," Sheppard continued, making a vague gesture with one hand, "but our Teyla is the leader of her people, not a scientist."

"Then I am very different from the Teyla you claim to know?" Teyla asked, putting an emphasis on 'claim.'

"No," Rodney said without thinking. "Yes. No. A little? The Teyla in our timeline is more..." He trailed off, unsure of how to articulate what he wanted to say. He considered Teyla to be one of the most significant people in his life, but he never thought he would be in the position of trying to describe her to herself. "Well, she's a little bit of everything, I guess. And she has a son."

"A son?"

"Torren," Sheppard said fondly. "Torren John Emmagan."

"Torren John?" Teyla asked, her voice raising. Her eyes rounded. "He is not...?"

She trailed off, looking at Sheppard meaningfully. Sheppard barked out a laugh. "You're with Kanaan," he explained. "You two kids are crazy about each other."

Teyla's face went frighteningly blank. "Kanaan was killed when the Satedans invaded Athos several years ago," she replied frostily.

It was like being doused with cold water. For some reason, it had never occurred to Rodney that Kanaan wouldn't be in Teyla's life. He had naturally assumed that if she was there, Kanaan and his fuzzy sweaters and his wise Athosian proverbs would be there as well. Now Rodney felt like a heel, and