Dr. Rodney McKay snapped his fingers impatiently. "Come on, come on. How much time?" he asked as he used the torch to slightly melt the frosty surface - for better pliancy, of course, and therefore a more effective bond when set.
"A little more than four minutes," Dr. Elizabeth Weir stated as she glanced at the stopwatch sitting directly in her sights. Her hands were currently occupied with far more important tasks, and she needed her eyes for that, too, so Rodney would have to make do with the less than precise appraisal of the remaining time.
"How're they doing?" McKay asked Lorne as the chief scientist, civilian leader of the Atlantis expedition, and the chief medical officer kept their hands busy in their effort to achieve their goal, a goal that with so many chiefs should have put them far ahead of their far inferior competition.
"It doesn't look good, McKay," Lorne said as he watched the other team's execution skills. "They've got the roof on, completely," the 'unlike ours' was left unsaid. "They're making good headway on the trim."
"Shit," Rodney said as they each worked on two things at once. Elizabeth was adding windows with her right hand as she used her left to hold the still setting eave in place. Carson had been relieved of roof work and was now placing the assorted candies into the thick icing where the roof met the walls. Lorne was their unofficial gofer and official spy.
Or was that the other way around?
"How could Sheppard and Ronon, that ham-fisted…" Elizabeth cut him off.
"Rodney. Focus," she ordered.
"Right." McKay looked at the roof, checked the 'caulk', and decided the structure would hold. "Carson, good work. Elizabeth, I'll finish the windows in the back."
The 'A-Team', or in other words, as named by Lorne, the 'Kick Ass, A-Number One Gingerbread House Building Team', or Rodney's team for short, was nearly finished with their effort in the first annual Greater Atlantis Gingerbread House Erection Race – Rodney had assured all that he wouldn't use the unpleasant resulting acronym on the announcements for the event. Signs had been plastered in the common areas to advertise the upcoming battle for baking, design and execution supremacy. The posters had twin intentions: 1) to remind everyone about the contest and the big holiday party to come, and 2) to solicit teams for the contest. Elizabeth and Rodney, who had been instrumental in coming up with the party, its theme, 'You CAN Go Home Again', and the contest name – definitely a McKay original – had been disappointed that only two teams had been formed for the competition.
Alas, all of the 'ra-ra' that Lorne had put into their team name all seemed for naught now as the other team, known during 'A-Team' planning sessions as 'the bad guys', aka Sheppard's team, was also just seconds away from finishing, and plainly ahead in terms of a finished product.
This totally sucked in McKay's eyes, everyone could see it, but anyone who knew McKay at all well could always easily tell how he felt. No matter who won, and it was looking pretty desperate for the 'A-Team' right about now, Rodney knew that his gingerbread house would be the best, able to withstand the elements better than any effort Sheppard's team put forth, McKay's design meant to impress both aesthetically as well as in a practical manner.
And it would taste good, too.
The fact that the gingerbread houses would be the evening's dessert had been totally lost on the genius Canadian astrophysicist / engineer / architect / landscape designer.
But not all was lost. Not yet. Though time was important, it was just one of the three criteria that would be used to judge the winner. The components of the judging were:
1. Speed
2. Beauty
3. Taste / Texture
Speed, in fact, was only worth thirty percent of the score, as was beauty. Taste and texture made up the final forty percent.
The judges? Colonel Steven Caldwell, Lieutenant Laura Cadman, who Rodney had initially objected to but who backed down once he realized that Carson being on his team might give them a slight advantage, even if admitting that meant that he would have condoned cheating, sort of, for his own team. The third judge was Hermiod, who would only participate in the first two categories.
"Time!" Laura Cadman called.
"Crap," Rodney McKay said. He was pleased to hear his science colleague on the other team claim more or less the same thing. In Czech.
Everyone other than the two scientists seemed happy and pleased with the results. There hung, along with the traditional Christmas decorations, a celebratory mood in Atlantis so close to the holidays back on Earth. This relatively long stretch in the Pegasus Galaxy unencumbered by death and destruction, threats to either expedition members or the expedition's borrowed home, had made for a festive time, one shared by the crew of the Daedalus and made even more special by the bounty of rations that the spacecraft had yielded upon their most recent arrival, as well as the gifts and cards from family and friends back home.
"Whew!" Elizabeth said as she wiped the faint sweat from her brow, leaving a hint of vanilla icing in her hair from her gooey but mostly very sweet and tasty fingers. She indulged in one lick, just to check.
"It's a good look for you, Elizabeth," John Sheppard said, smiling. "Maybe some flour, an apron…"
"Watch where you go next, Colonel," she warned playfully. She smiled along with her military counterpart, and along with the other participants and curious and hungry onlookers. The only ones not smiling were McKay and Zelenka, who were huddled together discussing, or rather, arguing and reviewing tactics, dimensions, ratios, adhesive strength, durability, wind resistance, engineering prowess and any and all other topics of interest to impassioned gingerbread home builders.
"Hey, McKay!" Sheppard yelled to the team leader on the opposing side. "I think your building is leaning a little."
Rodney stormed over, leaving his scientist colleague in the dust. Or was that flour? Powdered sugar?
"It is not!" McKay denied vehemently.
John shrugged. "Kidding."
"Oh, very funny."
"He gets you every time, McKay," Ronon Dex noted as he hovered near the tasty and fun looking treats. "I guess you'll never learn."
"Yes, because I lack the innate capacity for advanced and ongoing discovery," McKay responded sharply. "My bad."
"Rodney, I believe that Ronon was, as was the colonel, how do you put it, trying to get 'a rise' out of you," Teyla Emmagen commented calmly.
"He's a pretty easy target in that regard," Carson added.
"Why are we discussing me and my alleged naiveté, which, I might add, is not as far reaching as you all seem to think," McKay defended, his eyes showing his frustration with the situation. "Isn't there a competition to be judged?"
Caldwell, Cadman and Hermiod took their positions around the first judgee – Rodney's team entry. The first portion of the competition had already been determined: Sheppard's team had completed more, not significantly more, but definitely more than McKay's. The judges had decided that a time limit was necessary, as McKay and Zelenka had made it clear that neither would heed the 'form over function' guidelines that all other team members had agreed to. Both scientists had insisted they would come up with functioning doors, windows, skylights, garage doors, a swing set in the yard, a tire swing in a tree. Much eye rolling and head shaking took place as the scientists continued to try to one up each other, the suggestions becoming more outlandish by the minute. Cooler heads ultimately prevailed, but not before the time limit was deemed mandatory.
Now the judges concentrated on the beauty, the basic aesthetics of the structures. The color palettes chosen by the teams were strikingly dissimilar, Rodney's team going with the more traditional bright colors of a typical Earth-based gingerbread house. The rich, deep amber color of the walls contrasted strikingly with the white icing that represented the snow-covered roof. Crystal rock candy had been chiseled carefully, formed and placed on the edges to represent icicles. Peppermint and spearmint starburst candies were used as 'edging' around the makeshift 'gardens' that Elizabeth had designed, one herb and one vegetable, despite Rodney's insistence that gardens in a winter scene made no sense. He had lost that argument when his teammates challenged him on the need for the garage door to open and close.
The initial design for the house had been McKay's, as had been the definition of the 'building' materials. Lorne had suggested a more realistic look for the snow and its drifts, and McKay had eagerly agreed to engineer that into his final design plan. What had taken three hours to build had taken many, many more hours than that in planning, prep and finalizing of recipes for their entry into the competition.
The three judges huddled, talked and exchanged notes, discussing in hushed tones the merits of the house before them. After about fifteen minutes they turned, without comment, to Colonel Sheppard's team entry.
Sheppard had deferred to his team for most of the design elements. The colors for this entry reflected more on their time in the Pegasus Galaxy: muted natural colors that resembled the farmlands and forests of Teyla's people as well as the glass, metal and water aspects of their life in Atlantis. There was a delicate nature to the outcome of this gingerbread house that didn't exist in their competitor's, though Rodney's tower did stand impressively tall above the rest of the house.
Whereas McKay's design incorporated a three-story tower with a two-story primary residence, Radek had designed a single-level living space. The dwelling incorporated the gingerbread, but less of this house was made of the spiced cookie, but rather glass, or what resembled glass, was a primary component. Fine, not-quite-see-through panels of paper-thin candy made up those walls where the gingerbread was not used. Snow was still a theme, as was water, with the sections of the frozen lake, and waves of moving water, reflecting the house's clean lines back in a reverse picture show. It was surprising and original and had definitely caught the interest of the judges.
As the team members and the audience waited in anticipation, the judges finished their time with John's entry and walked away. They discussed some more, mild arguing could be heard, and finally the judges settled whatever differences they had encountered. Hermiod would not participate in the next part of the judging: taste and texture.
"Okay," Steven Caldwell said, seemingly enjoying his position as lead judge. "We have come to a decision, but we're going to move to the next part of the judging first before announcing the results."
"Wait," Rodney interrupted. "That's not fair. What if you do your tasting and then decide after the fact that you want to play around…"
"Can it, McKay," Lieutenant Cadman cut in. "We're leaving the results of the second phase of judging with Hermiod. Does that work for you?" she asked, smiling the smile of someone who knew that she'd just managed to shut up Rodney McKay. Sheppard shot her a thumbs up sign.
"Hm. Fine," McKay said.
"Good for you, Dr. McKay," Caldwell noted before adding, "though I admit to being a little disgruntled that you trust Hermiod not to cheat but not me."
"Or me," Cadman added.
"Really, Rodney. The lieutenant is a luvly person," Carson defended. Though they had dated for a while, Beckett and Cadman were now just friends. Laura blew Carson a kiss in thanks for defending her honor.
McKay stood there, everyone waiting anxiously for his reply. He didn't disappoint. Well, in fact, he disappointed some.
"Trust is earned, it's not a right that you're given just because of your station. Sheppard has earned my trust, as have Radek and Elizabeth, and a few others. I'm not surprised that I've been placed in a position by the two of you to defend myself. My apologies to you, Carson, because though I do trust you, experience dictates that I still watch my step with your, um, with Cadman." He looked around, seeing surprised faces, sad faces, worried faces, some disappointed faces. "That is not to say that I distrust the rest of you. I mean, I don't really know many of you well enough to make that call. I hope you understand." He looked around uncomfortably, not seeing, or at least not recognizing in his current state, any friendlies. "I apologize for ruining the festivities." He looked to Elizabeth and then to John. "I'm sorry," he said as he walked out of the cafeteria.
"Rodney," Radek called, but the murmering of the crowd, and McKay's swift exit, made for an altogether unsuccessful effort.
"Shit," John said as he headed to follow his friend.
"Sheppard, you should probably let him go," Caldwell advised.
"And why would I do that, Colonel?" John challenged softly. Whatever Caldwell had to say, it need NOT be something for public consumption. It wasn't his place. It wasn't John's place, either, at least not as his team leader. McKay didn't have to answer to him, not in this situation. But Rodney was his friend, and something had set him off. Caldwell's attitude was enough to set John off, so he wasn't going to have much patience for any advice he might have to offer, especially when it came to how to deal with Rodney McKay. John Sheppard was the resident expert on that subject.
"He's messed up the festivities enough. If you leave, it'll send the wrong signal."
Sheppard stepped up close to Caldwell and said, "Well you're the lead judge. You ought to be able to keep the party hopping."
"That's not my point," Caldwell nearly growled.
"I really don't care what point you're trying to make," John said as he stared down the Daedalus commander. "Radek," he called.
"Yes, Colonel," Zelenka answered quickly.
"Take over for me, will ya?"
"Of course."
"Elizabeth, can you cover for your team?" the colonel asked, still staring at his military counterpart.
"Go ahead, John." Sheppard left. Elizabeth directed coldly, "Shall we continue, Steven?"
"Certainly. Has everyone taken all the pictures they want before we begin with the proverbial wrecking ball?" he asked, trying his best to lighten the mood in the now tense celebration.
Sheppard ran down the hall, not sure which way he should head. McKay could have, would have gone one of three places: his lab, 'his' balcony, or his quarters. The lab was in one direction, his quarters in another. To get to McKay's favorite balcony he'd have to take one of the transporters, but it was pretty windy out – the ocean mist had been coating the windows all day. He opted to head to Rodney's quarters.
He hadn't sensed an impending blow up coming from his friend. He might know McKay best, but something was definitely up when Rodney McKay acted like that in front of a big crowd of people. It was one thing to be like that with his scientists and other staff, or with Carson or Elizabeth. Or with his best friend. But in spite of how people might think this was just a typical rude McKay response, it was not. It was so very not.
Sheppard liked to use an old fashioned knock when he went to bug McKay. Yes, it was because of the response, the priceless look on McKay's face. It was a face that was so easy to read. Rodney's fears, his excitement, heartaches and exhilarations in discovery were always plainly written, and easily read, on the expressive face. It was the eyes that did it, mostly, though his mouth told the tale of Rodney McKay as well. The upturned edge that hinted of mischief, or the tense, downward frown, lips held tight together, that signaled trouble.
But those eyes. Impossibly wide open, perfectly round and bright blue when faced with danger. Intense, smaller, but so intense when he had found the answer, once again, and was in full command mode, knocking his people around, verbally, to get the job done. Sparkling lapis lazuli when delighted – a look not seen enough from Rodney McKay. Round and deepest blue when he was in deepest despair. This was a look that Sheppard had great familiarity with, either watching Rodney lose members of his staff, or seeing him admit failure, or watching as someone he cared for was injured. Or feared gone.
It was this last look that met him when McKay finally opened the door, but Sheppard only got a fleeting glance at those eyes as Rodney turned and walked back into his room.
"What's going on?" John asked tentatively as he walked into the room, thinking the door shut behind him.
Rodney was still facing away. He started to shake his head, just barely, back and forth, and then he lowered his chin to his chest. He turned around, blinking madly, trying so hard to keep it together. His head was still down, but it was impossible not to notice how much McKay was fighting for control. Whatever this was, John Sheppard didn't think it had all that much to do with the festivities in the cafeteria. Caldwell might have pulled the trigger, but this bullet was in the chamber long before those events of just minutes ago finally played out.
The physicist folded his arms tight about himself and raised his head, looking straight into John's eyes. Rodney's eyes now held more fear than before as he said, "I'm not sure."
Sheppard stayed put for now, trying to comprehend all of this emotion from his friend. It wasn't like McKay wasn't an emotional guy. It was one of the very worst things about having the scientist as one of John's direct reports on missions. But it was also what made him such an amazing asset, an amazing person on this expedition. His brilliance was not tempered by his personality, it was enhanced by it, a hundredfold. It could be his undoing, like with Doranda, but that was rare. It usually resulted in something, well, something amazing. Something miraculous, whether he simply knew, in an instant, the odds of surviving an alien energy cloud with a not-fully-proven personal shield, or brilliant saves of Atlantis from killer storms. Or any number of miracles in between. Well, they couldn't really count as miracles because it was science and genius that did the trick, mixed with a larger than expected measure of bravery. They may not have been miracles, but they sure resembled them.
Rodney McKay looked anything but a Miracle Man. He failed to pass the Answer Man test right now.
"Okay," John said softly as he approached his friend. "Let's sit down and talk for a bit. Try to figure it out."
"Everybody's mad, right? I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" He stopped talking, though his hand continued to speak silently. Shakily.
"Hey," Sheppard said, grabbing the hand and setting it on McKay's lap. "Don't worry about them. They're getting ready for the fun part."
Rodney looked at John, not sure what he was talking about.
"Demolition," Sheppard reminded McKay, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning mischievously.
Rodney nodded. "That is fun," he said without feeling.
"Rodney? What happened back there?"
"I told you. I don't know."
"No. You said you weren't sure," John challenged. "But you have an inkling."
"I think. I'm…I," he started. He turned to face Sheppard. He wiped his hands over his face. John thought he looked pretty wiped out, but having a meltdown in front of everyone like that - your colleagues, your friends, near strangers - had to take a lot out of you. They'd had a fairly easy, quiet time on Atlantis recently, but Sheppard had spent a lot of that time with his troops. Drills, acclimating new recruits, working up various new defense strategies, discussing those with Elizabeth. What he hadn't done is spend much time with his best friend, and definitely no quality time. What had he been thinking?
"McKay, you can talk to me. You know that, right?" John encouraged. He really hoped that Rodney knew that.
"You know, it's been a little over a year since Arcturus," Rodney said.
"Uh, yeah," Sheppard answered. Though it had seemed a bit of a non sequitur, it would soon become crystal clear that it was nothing like that. John became uncomfortable about where this line of thought was heading.
"It seems like a lot longer, some days, and just like yesterday on others."
John frowned. Damn it.
"You're saying that sometimes you think I don't trust you?"
"No. Not exactly. I think that sometimes you hesitate. You take just a split second and you're back on Doranda and you wonder, 'Should I trust him?' this time. You think, even just a little bit, will it happen again."
John sat quietly, looking at the most brilliant mind in two galaxies. He knew that he'd ultimately pay for what he'd done to Rodney after those catastrophic events, probably for a long time to come. Elizabeth had handled that episode so much better than he had. Her very public shouting match with McKay had been healthier for both of them. Sheppard's stupidity, his childish refusal to talk to McKay and work with McKay for so long had caused this. There had to be something he could do now, finally, to fix this.
"Rodney, I…" McKay cut him off.
"I understand, to a certain degree. I mean, three fifths of a solar system. That's a lot to make up for."
"Rodney, you…"
"No!" McKay yelled, followed immediately by, "Sorry. It just, I don't know. I guess I hoped…I mean, we have been better. You and me. Right? It seems like we have, anyway. But I know you hesitate. To make that decision. I give you credit for deciding fast and deciding right. And I hate that I caused this to happen."
"McKay," John tried again, but Rodney wasn't quite done.
"I guess, you know, when Caldwell, of all people, raised the question of trust…it hurts to think that we'll never get that back." Rodney's eyes were wider and bluer than John ever remembered seeing them. "I trust you with my life. I still hope that one day you will trust me the way you once did." McKay held firm, looking Sheppard in the eyes. It was hard to witness, the desperation, the fear. The hope. John looked away first and then watched as Rodney dropped his head down once more.
"Rodney?"
This entire conversation had been terribly disconcerting for John. He'd hoped he would never have to revisit that time again. He had put it behind him, at least he thought he had. Sadly, he'd obviously not been paying close enough attention - he hadn't noticed that Rodney was still mired in that moment, that terrible brief encounter at the doors of a transporter. What an idiot John had been.
What was he going to say now? He'd had a thought about what the right thing to say would be, but then thoughts of Arcturus and dying; Rodney and him dead. The transporter conversation. John Sheppard shook his head. This was not going well, and he hadn't even said anything meaningful to the man. To his friend.
"Crap. I think I forgot what I was going to say," he said, laughing nervously. Then more seriously he said, "McKay, look at me." Once Rodney obliged, John continued. "You're right. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I do hesitate. I think it's now just a bad habit, and I hate it, and I know I'm an ass for doing it. You don't need to prove yourself to me, Rodney. Not any more. And you haven't had to for a long time. I should have made it clear to you. People far worse at math than you or me know your rate of good decisions versus bad ones. It's not even the decisions, not really. It's that you come up with what you come up with, consistently. You're really amazing, McKay. We wouldn't still be here on Atlantis, exploring this galaxy. Not without Rodney McKay."
Sheppard looked at Rodney before continuing. He laughed again, this time a little bigger, less nerves. "Man, I am really so bad at this shit."
"Oh, I don't know. I think you're doing okay."
"Really? I feel, I don't know, stupid. I'm not eloquent. I'm in the Air Force."
"That explains a lot," McKay joked.
"Do I have to go on with this?" Sheppard asked hopefully. "You only said I'm doing okay because you like what I said."
"Not the first part," Rodney said quietly.
"No," John agreed. They sat in silence for some time. Sheppard finally spoke again. "Do you wanna go back?"
McKay stood up and stretched. "I don't know. I think I might have upset a lot of people. I didn't show much good will down there. I seem to have left my holiday cheer in my other suit."
"I think you overestimate your importance in today's festivities," John traded back lightly. "Besides, a lot of those people are your friends and they'll be glad to see you. The rest either didn't hear it or they think you were just being you."
"Gee, that's nice to know."
"Your friends know better. Screw the rest of 'em. Head back?"
"Yeah. Let me use the facilities first?"
"Go ahead," John said. "I'm next."
As they walked back to the party, John asked, "We're good, right?"
"You know, I've asked you that once or twice before," Rodney answered accusingly.
"Yeah. Well, now I can say, for sure, with no lingering doubts, that we're good."
"Good." McKay smiled. The eyes showed, no doubt, that things were good.
"Hey, look who's back!" Lorne shouted. "Our fearless leader." Rodney turned around to look at Sheppard.
"He's talking about you, McKay. Remember? The 'A-Team'?"
"Oh. Right."
"We won," Elizabeth said, handing John and Rodney each a glass of champagne.
"We won? How?" Rodney asked, dumbfounded.
"Yeah," John said with a hint of fake anger. "How'd that happen?"
"Allow me to explain." Hermiod stood before them; sheets of paper stuck out of a folder that he held to his chest. "Colonel Sheppard's team won the first measurement, the time trial. But as you all are aware, it was very close. Your lead was slim."
'Time trial' John mouthed to Rodney. McKay smirked. He mouthed back, 'Slim lead', and then put his thumb and index finger close together to demonstrate. John smiled broadly.
"Do you wish to hear more?" Hermiod asked irritably.
"Sorry. Go ahead," John apologized.
"Then, the second test of beauty, though I believe the word aesthetics more appropriate…"
"Hermiod," Colonel Caldwell warned.
Hermiod mumbled something in Asgard and then continued in English. "The second measurement was also won by Colonel Sheppard's team."
"That's ridiculous!" Rodney challenged. "It was a rip off of 'Falling Water'. With the leaks!"
"What do you mean a rip off?" Radek called as he stormed up to McKay. "This design is original and has elements of Athosian and Atlantean design. It reflects the cultures of this galaxy."
"Rip. Off." McKay reiterated his feelings by emphasizing each word.
"Be gracious, Rodney. We won," Elizabeth Weir reminded her engineer, architect and overall project manager.
"Yes. Good point. So Hermiod, the third phase of the competition?" Rodney asked, his tone clearly superior with the knowledge that his team had won.
"Yes. For taste and texture, Dr. McKay, your team was a clear winner. According to my co-judges, there was a distinct flavor inconsistency with Colonel Sheppard's house."
"'Distinct flavor inconsistency'?" Sheppard asked, looking to Teyla and Ronon, who had been in charge of materials and recipes. John Sheppard was the project manager for his team, which meant that he had delegated everything, though he did participate actively in the assembly effort. Rodney McKay had been a more hands on project manager, as hard as that might be to imagine.
"Hermiod's just being nice," Caldwell said.
"Yeah. Your walls tasted like, well, walls," Laura Cadman said, her face screwed up by the memory. Rodney's entire team laughed in tandem.
"They actually had the consistency of drywall," Caldwell added with a smirk.
"I'm not surprised that you would have a basis for comparison," Sheppard responded quickly.
"If the shoe fits." Caldwell paused, and then added, "Actually, the taste was more like shoe, an old, old shoe. The consistency, definitely low-grade drywall."
"Teyla?" Sheppard asked, his tone a clear indication of who he felt to blame for their taste and texture failure.
"We arranged for a tasting for you, but you were busy," Teyla answered in her own defense.
"Nobody else bothered to taste it throughout the entire process?"
"Um, against the rules," McKay reminded, "though it's interesting to note that your team had 'arranged a tasting'."
"Like you weren't rubbing your hands together with glee when you learned that Cadman was a judge?" Sheppard challenged.
"Not at first. And that wasn't cheating." Officially.
"I still don't understand why ours tasted so bad," John admitted. "How did you test your recipes?"
"We didn't," Rodney admitted. "We used all Martha Stewart recipes from the internet. You can always trust Martha. Well, with recipes, anyway. Elizabeth and Carson replaced the citrus, where necessary."
"Martha Stewart recipes?" Sheppard looked around McKay to his teammates. "Why didn't we think of that?"
"You told us to work up the recipes," Ronon answered. "We did."
"If I remember correctly, the actual instruction in the rules was, 'Find recipes appropriate for the execution of a gingerbread house'," Rodney quoted.
"You remember it because you wrote it," John said with irritation. His irritability had nothing to do with Rodney and everything to do with his team.
"Actually, Elizabeth and I both worked on that. And as anyone who has watched 'The Amazing Race' can tell you, it's important to read the instructions carefully."
Rodney McKay life lesson number seventy-two.
"So, there's nothing edible on our house?" Sheppard asked dejectedly.
"Not to worry," Rodney said as he slapped John affectionately on the back. "Our two-story house, with a three-story tower," the scientist added, pointing his finger up for emphasis, "will feed us all." His smile was broad, his joy in the moment, and at Sheppard's unfortunate second place, make that last place finish, somehow made the room just a bit brighter.
The smile formed by McKay's lips, and the delight shining from his eyes, brought John Sheppard all the Christmas cheer he needed.
The End.