This is an "insert" story into my "Sex, Lies, and Puddlejumpers" 'verse. If you're not familiar with it, reading the first three chapters of Growing Pains should tell you all you need to know. This story takes place during February 2007, between the third and fourth chapters of Growing Pains. Aiden is ten months old. Rodney and Mary just got married. Summer just had baby Aaron. Laura and Carson are expecting their baby. Elizabeth and Radek haven't seen the light. And Ronon and Teyla haven't even thought about resolving their UST.

Special thanks and many hugs and kisses to the greatest beta in the entire multiverse, Commodore Norrington. Darling, you are the Joe to my Martin. :-D

"Welcome to the fallout. Welcome to resistance. The tension is here. The tension is here, between who you are and who you could be, between how it is and how it should be. I dare you to move. I dare you to move. I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor. I dare you to move. I dare you to move like today never happened, today never happened.
"Maybe redemption has stories to tell. Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell. Where can you run to escape from yourself? Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go? Salvation is here. I dare you to move. I dare you to move. I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor. I dare you to move. I dare you to move. Like today never happened, today never happened, today never happened, today never happened before." - Switchfoot, "Dare You To Move"

"Maybe it's not supposed to 'turn on', Rodney," John sighed as he fiddled with the small block in his hands. "Maybe it's just an Ancient game or something. Like a Rubik's Cube." The metal whatever-it-was did bear a striking resemblance to the Earth toy of skill and frustration.

"It wouldn't have had an Ancient warning with it if it was just a toy. Now, would you just stop talking and make it work?" Rodney scowled. A whole handful of Ancient artifacts had been brought back earlier by Major Lorne's team and McKay had only discovered the purpose of one so far.

"You know, a 'please' every now and then wouldn't kill you," John commented tiredly; Rodney had been being short with him for over twenty minutes.

"Fine. Shut up and make the damn thing work, please."

John rolled his eyes and twisted one of the slides on the metal cube, mixing up Ancient symbols rather than colors. 'On, on, on,' he thought toward the object, then added a hopeful, 'Please?' The cube did nothing. "So…what kind of warning was it?" he asked, continuing to change the positions of the sides of the cube.

"Something about 'caution'," Rodney answered, watching his laptop to see if the scanner was picking up any readable energy from the device. "And 'pain.'"

"Pain?" John repeated, stilling his hands and looking up. "It's gonna hurt me? This could be some Ancient torture device for all you know! What if it electrocutes me or something when I arrange the sides just right?"

"It mentioned pain, not death," Rodney assured him in a non-sympathetic manner. "Keep trying."

'Please don't hurt me,' John asked the device nicely before twisting a side again and prompting, 'On.'

"Whoa!" Rodney exclaimed as the energy readings shot up. He looked at the device and saw that all the visible symbols were now glowing a disconcerting shade of red. "What did you do?!"

"I turned it on like yo--" He suddenly collapsed, the lights on the device fading as his unconscious body hit the floor.

XXXXXX

When John woke up, his head hurt like hell. His eyes slowly focused on the dull ceiling. When he moved slightly and felt familiar, starchy-fresh sheets beneath him, he knew he had to be in the infirmary. Glancing to one side, he managed to wave a hand and groan loud enough to get the attention of a nearby nurse.

"Glad you're awake, sir," said the pretty, young blonde. "Is there anything you need at the moment or should I just get Dr. Beckett?"

"M'head hurts," he mumbled as he squinted at her.

"I'll bet. From what I heard, you cracked it pretty hard when you fell," she said, giving his shoulder a sympathetic pat. "I'll get you some painkillers and tell Dr. Beckett you're awake."

"Thanks," he said and then closed his eyes again for about a minute.

"A'right, Colonel, here's a little something for the pain."

John opened his eyes when he heard the impatient Scottish voice. "Thanks, doc," he said as Carson injected something into his IV.

"Just make this the last time for a long time," Carson replied curtly.

John gave the doctor a strange look. "It's not like I did this on purpose, Carson," he stressed.

"Yes, but if you were more careful, these things wouldna happen," the doctor asserted with annoyance as he checked Sheppard's vitals on the monitors.

"Look, it was an accident," John insisted. "No need to be snippy."

"Snippy?" Carson repeated, and John might have laughed at how strange the word sounded with a Scottish accent if the doctor hadn't been in such a sour mood. "Well, if I wasn't constantly being dragged away from other things to come and fix your cuts and bruises, maybe I wouldna be so snippy!" John was taken aback by his friend's bitter attitude but before he had a chance to say anything, Carson called to the nurse, "Jordan, his life doesn't appear to be in danger, so if you would please look him over, I'll get back to Lieutenant McKenzie."

Beautiful, blonde Jordan nodded quickly and began checking on John, seeing if he was ready to be discharged.

"What's his problem?" John asked when Carson was out of earshot.

Jordan shook her head. "Who knows."

XXXXXX

After a couple of questions and a few moments with that evil penlight, Jordan cleared John to leave. She told him that while he'd only been unconscious for about fourteen hours, his timing had been lucky enough that he'd missed the sexual harassment lecture. John's headache had driven the scheduled meeting from his mind; when she reminded him, he was almost grateful he'd hit his head and decided that he wasn't going to yell at Rodney for what had happened. Besides, if he brought it up at all, Rodney would probably feel guilty and try to apologize, and John really wasn't good at awkward 'I'm sorry'-'I forgive you' moments.

He found Rodney in the mess hall eating lunch with Evie. He filled himself a tray and then sat down in the chair next to Evie after they invited him to join them.

"Glad you're back," Rodney said. "I'm sorry about th--"

John cut him off. "Don't worry about it; I'm fine. I feel great."

Evie looked him over for a moment and concluded from how tired he looked that he probably didn't feel as great as he said. "You sure? You don't look so good, sir," she observed.

Noting the dark circles under Evie's own eyes, John commented, "You don't look too good yourself, Lieutenant. You sick or something?"

Evie stared at him, her expression a mix of hurt and disbelief.

Rodney kicked John's ankle hard. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

John winced at the pain and his ankle and then asked in confusion, "What? I just--"

Evie's watch alarm interrupted them. Quickly turning it off, she said, "I gotta go. Elizabeth gave us just enough time for lunch before we have to meet back with her to debrief." She stood to her feet and picked up her tray. "I'll see you guys later."

Rodney stood up as well. "I should be going, too," he said as Evie walked away. "I was done anyway, and I've got work to do. Enjoy your lunch." With that, he picked up his tray and left.

XXXXXX

When Elizabeth had finished debriefing Major Johnson's team, John paid a visit to her office. After explaining to her that he was fine, he just had slight recurring headaches, he'd gotten permission to resume active duty. She said that he could take the rest of the day off and that there would be a senior staff meeting the next morning after breakfast.

As he always did when he had time off, John intended to spend it with Evie. On his way out of Weir's office, he passed a moderately pregnant Laura Beckett, who was on her way in. "How's the head, sir?" she asked, stopping for a moment.

"Still hurts a little," he answered. "But I'll be fine." Laura nodded. "Do you know what it is yet?" he asked, pointing to what had become affectionately known as 'Baby Beckett.'

"Yes, sir," Laura answered with a wide smile. "It's a girl; she finally uncrossed her legs. We're gonna name her Rachel."

John grinned. "That's great. Aiden'll be so excited."

Laura laughed. "I suppose so, sir. If you'll excuse me, though, I've got to talk to Dr. Weir." He nodded and they both continued on in their separate directions.

When John entered Evie's quarters, he saw her lying on her stomach on her bed, asleep. She seemed to be naked, with the sheet pulled up over the lower half of her body. John thought it was odd; she didn't prefer sleeping in the nude.

He sat down beside her and began gently rubbing her back, loving the sensation of her soft skin under his fingers. He frowned when he realized that he could feel her ribs without applying any pressure and he wondered when and why she'd lost so much weight. They hadn't been together for over a week, but he thought he still would have noticed.

When she began to stir, he smiled and murmured, "Nice of you to join me, sleepy-head."

At the sound of his voice, Evie's eyes flew open. She slowly turned to look over her shoulder and gasped when she saw John sitting next to her. "Sir! What are you doing here?!" she exclaimed, yanking the covers up to her neck.

"What do you mean what am I doing here?" John asked in confusion. "I came to see you."

"You could have knocked, sir," she maintained, scooting over to the far side of the bed in an effort to put some space between them.

"Knocked? Evie, what are you talking about? I had some time to kill and I thought I'd spend it with you," John explained.

"Doing what, sir?"

"Having sex?"

The room suddenly felt very hot to Evie and she could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks. "Sir, I think you should leave," she said with forced politeness.

"Evie, what the hell are you--"

John was cut off by a male voice. "Who are you talking to, Evie?"

When John looked up and saw Rodney standing in the threshold of the bathroom, he stood up so fast he nearly fell off the bed. Rodney's hair was wet and he was naked as well, save for a towel wrapped around his waist.

John was so confused and upset that he stammered several times before managing, "What… What the hell is going on?" Rodney opened his mouth to answer, but John demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Rodney replied calmly, picking his boxers up off floor and putting them on (skillfully managing not to flash John in the process).

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't!"

Evie, who had been looking quickly from one man to the other like a ping-pong match, interjected, "Yes, he does."

Before John could protest, Rodney said, "See? Now that just leaves us with 'What are you doing here?' and 'Why are you harassing my wife?'"

John's eyebrows couldn't have shot up any higher if they'd had wings. "Your-- What kind of Gate crack are you on?! She's my wife!"

Rodney sighed, his patience wearing thin. "I don't know who put you up to this, John, but it's not very funny."

"You're damn right it's not funny and since when did you start calling me John?"

"I've always called you John," Rodney replied with barely masked exasperation.

"No, you haven't," John insisted.

"Yes, I-- Okay, this is stupid," Rodney said, crossing his arms. "Would you please leave?"

"Not without Evie," John declared, and when he looked over at her, she pulled the sheet up higher still.

"I'm sorry, but she's not yours to take," Rodney said with a frown.

"Like hell she isn't," he growled, then turned to Evie. "Where are your tags?"

She looked at him, unsure. "Sir?"

"Dogtags! Now!" he ordered.

Evie nodded quickly and did her best to keep herself covered as she removed her dogtags from around her neck. When she held the chain out to John, he snatched it from her.

"I don't know if this is some sick fantasy you two are trying to get out of your heads or…what…" He trailed off when he found the diamond ring between the metal ID tags.

It wasn't the ring he had given her. And next to it was a wedding band.

John looked at it in shock for a minute, then hurled the tags back at Evie, making her jump.

"Hey!" Rodney cried, John's action pushing him from annoyed to angry.

"Where's the ring I gave you?" John demanded.

Evie looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Sir, what are yo--"

"Where is it?!" he shouted.

"Alright!" Rodney said, stepping forward to intervene. "Either you leave now or I'm calling security," he warned.

John tried to calm down, but he was far too upset for it to do much good now. "Evie, come on. You remember Venalia!" he insisted, distraught. "Hell, you were both there!" he gestured to Rodney. "He had to come get us. We did it for, like, six hours!"

At this, Evie blushed again and Rodney reached for his comm, which lay on the table. "Security to Dr. McKay's quarters," he requested as he took John's arm and tried to pull the irrational man away from Evie.

"No!" John cried, yanking free. "You-- You have a scar above your breast!" he claimed, in an attempt to prove that he knew what he was talking about. He reached quickly for the sheet around her body but Rodney grabbed his arm and, using a move that John himself had taught him, twisted the pilot's arm painfully behind his back.

"Oww!" John cried as Rodney then forced him to his knees.

"What the hell has gotten into you?!" Rodney demanded, inflicting a little more pain than was probably necessary.

"God! I'm not wrong, you're wrong! This is wrong! You got the scar because you started cutting yourself the night you found out your brother died!" A tear threatened to slip down John's cheek -- and it wasn't from the pain in his arm.

"David's dead?" Rodney asked, glancing up at Evie, who shook her head in confusion.

John barely twitched and Rodney forced his arm up higher. John winced. "But your scar--"

"She would never cut herself," Rodney promised as he heard the door open and two guards rush in.

"Show me," John demanded, quiet at first, then he shouted, "Show me!" as he began struggling against Rodney.

Without hesitation, one of the guards shot him with a stunner. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, John fell to the floor unconscious.