"McKay!"

"Radek, I need you to walk your theory through as best you can and get me a simulation. I need it yesterday."

Dr. Radek Zelenka looked worn out and on the verge of collapse. But that paled in comparison to how bad Dr. Rodney McKay looked. The deep scrapes and cuts from the shattered glass hadn't yet been treated. The dark circles about his eyes, so familiar to those who had experienced the workaholic Canadian, both in the throes of pleasure while playing with newly found gadgets and in the horror of working to a deadline to save, well, everybody, were now starting to overwhelm his expressive features. The medical staff might not have the time to insist that McKay take a break, just one more item to add to the minus column since Carson Beckett's death. The plus column remained steadfastly non-existent. No, medical might not have the time for McKay, but Sheppard did.

"Radek, how're you doin'?" Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard asked as he stepped in between the two scientists. The Czech cocked his head in tired reply. John didn't wait for a verbal response. "McKay, I need to see you."

"How is Elizabeth?" Rodney asked as he turned back to his own simulation. "We need to find some way to achieve more power as quickly and efficiently as we can," McKay noted, speaking to Zelenka once more. "These are our third and fourth attempts, Radek. We need to do better."

"Rodney, maybe we should take a short break?" Radek asked. They had been at it non-stop for hours. They both needed – something. Stimulants, for sure. Food. A serious power nap would do them both good.

"No time." Zelenka looked at Sheppard with a mix of discouragement and hope. It was a strange and surprising combination; not that Sheppard was seeing it, they were all feeling it. But that Radek could convey it in just one look…

"Let me try," John said quietly to Zelenka. He turned to his friend and took a deep breath.

"Rodney, I need you to come with me a minute."

McKay turned, looking like he'd finally realized that Sheppard was there. A sad look came over his face. It beat the look of sheer terror that had made itself comfortable there since they'd found themselves adrift in space on Atlantis.

"Oh. Um. Hi. Uh, how is Elizabeth?" McKay shook his head and frowned. "Did I already ask that?" He looked into John's eyes and wasn't too sure about what he saw there. "D…Do I want to know?" he asked.

"I don't know," Sheppard answered honestly. "Doctor.…Whatshername hasn't reported. She's, she'll be okay," John said encouragingly without feeling the least bit encouraged about Elizabeth's chances. By all accounts she had taken a direct hit. From what John had heard, it hadn't been good. Seriously, what were the chances?

"Of course she will," Rodney said, feigning confidence. The scientist looked like the bottom was ready to fall out of that confident demeanor, as though he had just one more minute, but only if he had an ounce of good luck in reserve, before Sheppard would be cleaning McKay up off the floor.

"Look, I need you for a few minutes. Can you join me in my quarters?"

"I'm not sleeping," Rodney said, seeing right through John Sheppard.

Sheppard put his head down and sighed.

"I know. But I need you to leave here for a few minutes. Ten minutes. Tops. I know every minute is valuable." John said the next part in a whisper. "But so are you. To this mission. To all of us in this city. To me." He looked into Rodney's eyes, everything that the man was feeling obvious in that one brief look. The worry, the need to remain positive. The love. Time seemed to stand still as Rodney sent those feelings right back.

"Just give me ten minutes?" the colonel asked, close to begging.

"Radek?" Rodney asked, not taking his eyes from John's. "Could you please watch the progress of this simulation? If I'm not back in ten minutes," he added, pausing to look at John a little more carefully, "fifteen minutes tops, call for me." McKay knew how important every block of ten or fifteen minutes was – everyone did – but he also knew that they were the only minutes he could spare right now, and would be the only ones he would be allowed to give up to John for some time to come. He stepped away from Radek and the cordon of computers and walked out of the lab shoulder-to-shoulder with the Air Force man.

"Thanks," John said as they headed at a faster-than-Sheppard-thought-McKay-currently-possible-of pace to John's room.

"It's okay. You're right. I…I n…needed a break."

"Hey, are you okay?" John asked, not happy with the stuttering.

"I haven't eaten…"

"Yeah, yeah. I know that, Rodney. Who doesn't know that you would have forgotten to eat? I don't understand how someone so smart, a purported genius, can act so dumb."

"Look," Rodney said, stopping just paces from their destination, "I really don't need nor do I want to spend the next ten minutes being yelled at and chastised like a child by you. If that's how it's going to be, then I'd just as soon head back…" McKay made to turn and head back to his simulations. Sheppard stopped him with a firm touch to the busy chief scientist's forearm.

"Whoa, hold up there. I'm sorry." John could now feel Rodney shaking with tension, or worse. He grabbed better hold of McKay's arm and steered him the last few feet to the privacy of Sheppard's quarters. They stepped in, John thought the door closed and locked, walked Rodney to the bed and forced him to sit. McKay dropped as though his legs could not possibly have held him one more second.

John Sheppard got down on his knees, reached for Rodney McKay's face, cupping the cherished face within his two hands, and pulled it to him, kissing his lover, the need, the thoughts of what little time they might have left, the love flawlessly played out in just one perfect kiss. It seemed to go on forever, which it obviously had not. When they both pulled away, John stood and then sat down next to the tired physicist and pulled him into a hug. They stayed that way for a long time before Rodney finally spoke.

"It's certified genius, not purported. You jerk."

John laughed and pulled away. He smiled as he looked at Rodney, the irritation about the genius comment clear on the scientist's face. John took a wrapped sandwich out of his pocket and handed it to the man next to him.

"Sorry," Sheppard said, though he still wore the grin.

"No you're not, but I forgive you anyway because you brought me a sandwich. You realize that a sandwich is a far more meaningful gift than, well, I don't know what I'm saying right now. I know that I'm babbling," Rodney said as he took turns talking and chewing. "I'm so tired, I expect you not to hold anything that I say right now against me."

John pulled Rodney's forehead to him and kissed it. "I promise." Sheppard proceeded to empty other foodstuffs from his pockets. McKay took an apple and bit into it, and then took another bite of his sandwich.

"Mmmm, that's so good."

John smiled some more as he went to a cabinet and brought out a first aid kit. The smile was nearly gone when he came back. "I'm gonna clean these cuts. If any of them are real deep, I'm gonna take you to the infirmary for stitches."

"Nuh-uh. No time," McKay replied between bites. "They're all scabbed over now anyway."

"Hopefully we won't have to," Sheppard said as he pulled out his doctoring supplies. He also took a bottle of pills out of one of his pockets. "Stimulants," he said, followed by, "Dr. Whatshername gave them to me. Reluctantly. She said Carson had finalized a new capsule form."

"Can't blame her for being reluctant to dole them out," Rodney said. "Carson told me he was trying to make dispensing the stimulants easier, though he did have some misgivings about it." Even though Rodney knew he would use them – need them – he still hated the idea, especially after his oh-so-special fight, cold turkey, to get over the overdose of the Wraith enzyme. That entire horror show was a scary reminder of what getting addicted, to anything, could be like. He never wanted to go through that again.

"I don't like it either. But I'm guessing you don't have your answers yet."

"No." John didn't need to look at Rodney to know his disappointment in admitting that: his voice, with just one word, told the story.

"It's okay. You'll be careful, and I'll be watching. I have a vested interest that you don't get hooked on that stuff," Sheppard said with love and worry evident.

"You didn't before?"

"I did, but you didn't give me a chance before." They stared each other down before John quickly said, "Let's not go there."

"No. But I don't have Carson around to help me through any problems," McKay reminded them both of that stark fact. "I would never have made it through the enzyme withdrawal…"

John hugged Rodney tight. "Yeah, it sucks that Carson's gone. We just won't let it happen."

"Okay."

"Good." John leaned back and looked at Rodney. "Feeling better?"

"Yes. The food was good. Spending time with you has been, well, I really needed it."

"Me, too. And I'm glad to hear it. Why don't you lie down?" Rodney looked suspicious and ready to fight the suggestion. "Just for a few minutes. You're going to take the damned stimulants soon. It'll feel good to lie down, and I won't let you sleep for more than five minutes."

"That'll take us to our fifteen minute deadline," McKay said irritably, as though the additional five minutes would really make any difference.

"Shoot me," John answered in the same negative tone.

"Never. Well, never on purpose." John frowned. "Shit happens. You shot me! What happened to us then proves that I'm right to cover my ass now."

"Fine."

"Hey," Rodney said as he grabbed John's hand and pulled him alongside as they both nestled down together on the small bed. "Join me?"

"I'm not sure what the point is. We have to get up in five minutes," Sheppard answered, the sound in his voice, the clipped phrasing, the tightness of his throat, clear that he regretted that fact. "And I haven't cleaned your cuts yet."

"The point is that I love you and we can at least have these five minutes in each other's arms as proof, final proof if things don't go well." McKay chose to ignore the cleaning of the cuts in the hope that Sheppard might as well. One could hope, because opening up those scabs wasn't going to be any fun. "Besides, it's a good memory to take back into the trenches."

John looked at Rodney and then took his lips with his own. They kissed and then John rested his head in the crook of Rodney's neck, his arm laid across McKay's broad chest.

"You are a genius," the colonel said as he lay with his lover, their future uncertain. Rodney dope-slapped the back of John's head and then left his hand there, the warm hand fondling the thick unruly locks, both men breathing and touching and wondering what would come next.

The End.