McKay turned over in his bed, relaxing into its softness. He felt a little thirsty but not enough to bother getting up. His thoughts had already started to run together, flirting, merging in less and less likely combinations. He forced himself to breathe regularly, to let himself slide, to believe this could be one of the times he didn't...

He was falling into the dark, his whole body tensing, a cold predatory terror seizing his every muscle. He screamed, struggled, struck out into the darkness—

Then, impossibly, there they were, feet crunching on dusty sand and gravel, still united by the Stargate's familiar glow, together and safe and not too late...

But it was happening. He could feel it starting in the pit of his stomach. The soldiers, laughing and joking among themselves, Sheppard letting go of Kavanagh's arm and stepping away. Kavanagh scoffing, asking when they were going to be done with this farce. That stupid confidence on his face, counting them securely his own as males, as co-workers, as humans. The shock replacing it when Sheppard pushed him back, swung the small survival pack off his shoulder and shoved it into his outstretched hands.

"Here you go, Kavanagh. As promised, one lonely planet, just for you and your ego. Three hours all to yourself and the stars."

Kavanagh stepped forward and into the end of Sheppard's weapon. He backed up, sheer terror in his eyes.

"What the hell? You're going to leave me here. On a planet that we know nothing about. Alone."

McKay watched in despair. It was happening again as it had a thousand times, and there was nothing he could do except bear silent witness, trapped behind his own eyes, hearing the loathed voice speak his lines with perfect accuracy.

"We—we don't actually know nothi—"

"Hold it, McKay." Sheppard stepped forward, one hand out. He met Kavanagh's glare, his own gaze level and unruffled, then turned away, formally, deliberately. Kavanagh did a double take.

"Are you serious? Do you not realize that anything, anything at all could happen out here?" He swung from one to the other, his eyes searching theirs, scanning their bodies.

"You assholes. You motherfucking assholes." Kavanagh shifted his stance, his body stiff and trembling with fury.

"McKay, I can not believe you agreed to this! Look, I know he has absolutely no principles, aside from 'my inner circle must include at least one set of T&A and one musclebound alien, but you? You're a scientist, goddammit! What good are scientists if they don't get to tell the truth, when—when they see it, as they see it? You're not going to stand up for us, for me?" His hands curled inward, tapping his chest, as if McKay could have forgotten he was there. He pushed his glasses up on his glistening nose, staggering forward a step at the change in his field of vision.

"Hey, I know we don't always agree, but this is—this is—" Words failed him, his eyes bored into McKay's as if expecting to find the answer there. His eyes darted helplessly from McKay to Sheppard's set shoulders.

Sheppard didn't move, except to lean his head back and look thoughtfully at the stars. McKay's face was a study in discomfort but he said nothing.

Kavanagh gasped a little, sputtered.

"You think you'll get away with this? You think I won't tell every—"

Sheppard swung around to face him, finally. His eyes were dark, unreadable.

"Look, Kavanagh. I'm not saying I like this. But you need to get a grip, for one. Grow a backbone, or something. You were rude and disrespectful one too many times to the leader of this expedition. Your leader. When are you going to get that through your thick head? Now, how about you suck it up and take your medicine like a—" He snapped his fingers and spread his hands, turning toward McKay. Rodney met his gaze but shook his head, not following. Sheppard shrugged and put both hands on his hips.

"Yeah. Kind of at a loss for words here. I would say man, but...you haven't really shown anyone so far that you fit the bill, so..."

Kavanagh huffed indignantly.

"Elizabeth Weir is not fit to be leader of an intergalactic gas station, much less this expedition." He mouthed the last words mockingly, parroting Sheppard's tone. Sheppard opened his mouth, then closed it tightly. He smiled a little, shortly and without humor, then turned back towards the gate. Kavanagh's smugness evaporated, his face sagging into slack disbelief. He reached out, caught Sheppard's sleeve as he passed. Sheppard shook him off. He didn't turn to face him but he stopped.
Kavanagh recoiled.

"You're—you're going to do this. You're really going to do it."

"Damn straight. Play with fire, Kavanagh, you get burned. There's an easy way and a hard way to learn that. You picked the hard way."

McKay stood off to the side, his face torn. Sheppard looked over at him.

"You got something to say, Rodney?"

McKay started to say something, failed. He tried again, failed. Under Kavanagh's suddenly shaken stare he looked down and walked over to Sheppard, drew him aside.

"John, are you sure? Maybe this is as far as it needs to go. I—I—I mean, what if—" His voice was suddenly low and unsure.

"You—you remember Doranda, don't you? I just don't want—I mean, this is a choice. A choice."

"Yeah, McKay. It's a choice. It's my choice. And as the military commander of Atlantis, I say we let him cool his heels and learn what it means to do your job without whining and without throwing mud at the people who are trying to keep you and all the rest of us alive. You did your homework, right? Uninhabited planet? No regular visitors, no obvious dangerous or invasive species, no history with the Wraith, all that good stuff?"

"Well...yes...but—"

"But what?"

"I'm not sure. About this. It—doesn't feel right."

Sheppard sighed, fixed his eyes on some spot on the distant horizon. For a second the only sound was the humming of night insects. Kavanagh stood, for once silenced, his eyes darting from one of them to the other.

A keening, animal cry bounced off the hills. Kavanagh swallowed and took a few stumbling steps towards them, shaking his head wordlessly. Sheppard looked up with something in his eyes that stopped him in his tracks. He faltered, raising one hand to his mouth.

Sheppard half-turned, killed some tiny creature in the sand with a twist of his boot, then looked back at him.

"Goddammit, Kavanagh, it's three fucking hours. Grow a pair." He signaled to the other soldiers and they joined him, their weapons swinging loosely but ready.

"If you try to follow us through the gate before time is up, you will be stopped. I suggest you stay right here and don't do anything stupid. Let's go." As a group the soldiers turned and headed for the jumper they had come in.

"McKay! Don't let them do this to me! McKay!"

Rodney stepped close to him, furtively.

"I'll send you a message. Channel 4. Be listening."

Kavanagh raised one hand but McKay sent him a quick, warning look. He gulped.

"Well, what am I supposed—I—I—what if—?" He read, slowly, that Rodney had no more to give. Something settled in Kavanagh's eyes, something that dulled and hardened them, made them infinitesimally less congruous with the blue uniform shirt he wore—now stained with sweat, Rodney noticed as he stepped closer, into the sphere of the light on the pack at Kavanagh's feet—and gave them a tinge of the alien night pressing in from all sides. Kavanagh looked down, confused by Rodney's nearness, not understanding or accepting that they could share the same space, the same light, and be enemies. He blinked several times, rapidly.

"The mosquitos are, are going to eat me alive."

"There is some, uh, repellent in your survival pack, but here..." Rodney flipped up the flap of a pocket on his uniform and took out a pack of repellent, put it in Kavanagh's upturned hand. Kavanagh's eyes followed him as he took several paces back, glanced back toward Sheppard and raised his voice.

"Hey, if there's someone who knows how to kill time without doing anything useful, I'm looking at him. Be your usual self. You'll be fine." He gave a mock salute and half-jogged to meet the others at the jumper. Sheppard had already dialed the gate and the rest of the soldiers were waiting for them. For a second Sheppard and McKay stood, looking at the white face still staring after them from the clearing, the hand that lingered, embarrassed and out of place, in the air in front of Kavanagh's body.

Then Sheppard nodded toward the cabin of the jumper and they went inside, and the door closed behind them.

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Rodney jerked awake, half off his bed, panting and gasping for breath. His chest heaved and he scrabbled for the pills on the night stand, knocked them onto the floor. They didn't stop his brain but they slowed down his body. He shoved the extras back into the bottle and forced two between stiff, heavy lips, chewed them right through the acid bitterness to the tiny, sweet aftertaste.

Slowly his muscles started to relax their grip. He leaned back against his bed, reminding himself again of Heightmeyer's advice to simply let it play out in his head. It wasn't as if he could stop it anyway.

His mind drifted slowly back to the gate room as they came through, silent at first then brought to life by some inconsequential comment that gave birth to another, and then the soldiers were laughing and joking again and after a few moments Sheppard gave his avatar a meaningful look and joined them. He watched them, but this time from a distance, letting his brain do the work.

Elizabeth Weir was standing next to a console in the control room, listening to Radek explain some aspect of its workings, when they walked in. Radek looked up, not understanding the looks that passed between them.

"I'll be in my office in two, boys." She turned back to the wild-haired Czech.

-
"So, how'd he take it? Didn't faint this time I hope?"

"No, he, uh, he took it...well." McKay wasn't sure why but something in him felt nauseous at the thought of going into detail.

"You look a little stressed."

"Yes, well, uh. John."

"Colonel Sheppard?"

Sheppard took a marginally formal stance.

"Mission accomplished, ma'am."

"Good. Now, no listening in or responding. This needs to be decisive. We can't have any more scenes like the one that happened today. It's going to start seriously hitting at the very foundations of everything we've established here."

Rodney and Sheppard exchanged glances. Weir gave a quick, surprised laugh.

"Well, I'll have my own communicator set to the same channel as the one you engineered for him. If there's any trouble or anything out of place I'll be the first to know. We're not sentencing him to anything but temporary isolation here."

She sent a wry look at McKay.

"Trusting you on that one, Rodney. If he is able to communicate with anyone else on this base, things could get messy, and fast. He won't be able to do that, will he?"

Rodney sighed heavily.

"No, he—he shouldn't."

She looked at them.

"Hey, I'm the one who gets to listen to him rant. As soon as I put the communicator on, that is. I may need to do some meditation first."

Sheppard shifted his weight.

"Hell, I'm starving. What say we head down to the mess and get something to eat. Bolster you up for, you know."

She laughed.

"Sounds like a plan. You coming, Rodney?"

"No, I have to—I'm going to—"

"Rodney?" Sheppard lowered his head, his eyes closing slightly. McKay looked at him, his shoulders sagging at the look in his eyes.

"Think you better come with us."

Rodney held his gaze for a long moment, then made his own choice.

"I guess any time spent with Kavanagh is hungry work, even given the return on investment."

Laughter quivered in the air on three different frequencies as the office door slid open.

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Then they were in the mess hall, he was making his excuses and leaving early. He was normally a fast eater, but this one he'd rushed through in record time. He could feel the meal curling up in the corner of his stomach, refusing to play ball.

Back in his quarters, it only took five minutes before he gave a short sound of disgust and pulled out his communicator. He fiddled with it for a second and put it back in his ear.

"Kavanagh?" His voice was barely above a whisper. The communicator nearly exploded in his ear.

"McKay? You fucking asshole, get me out of here! What the fuck do you people think you're doing? I swear to God..."

"Dammit, Kavanagh! What do you not understand about this being an official punitive directive from Weir and—I—I shouldn't even be talking to you! You could have some consideration for the fact that I'm the only one ready to break the rules for you, you sorry ass. No, you listen to me. You're lucky I've got a weak stomach, or an overactive social conscience. That is, it has got to be the only reason I am still listening to your bullshit."

It took Rodney a moment to realize that what he had been hearing for the past several seconds was silence. He frowned.

"Kavanagh?" In spite of himself his unease crept into his voice. He heard a strange sound on the other end, like panting or gasping. Rodney gripped his communicator, pressed it against his ear.

"Is something wrong? Are you all right?"

"I can't. I can't do this. It's too much. I can't." Kavanagh's voice broke in the middle. Rodney gave an exasperated sigh.

"Look, Kavanagh, I'm not supposed to but I'm leaving my comm device on this channel, ok? I'll be listening. I can't talk anymore, but I'll—" He took a deep breath and cast a quick look all around him.

"I'll be listening. That's a promise. Try to hold on, ok? We'll be back in 2 hours, tops."

"Mckay..." Kavanagh's voice had lost all of its usual confidence and faltered on the last sounds.

"Mck—Rodney...You can't—"

Mckay's finger slowly released the button on his communicator. He stood, straightened himself, and walked over to his bed. The worried look on his face remained as he slowly sat on the edge and looked down at his hands. Two hours, Rodney. Nothing's going to happen in two more hours. He'll be fine.

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He was still sitting, an hour later, when Sheppard burst into his room.

"McKay!" Sheppard's eyes were wide and haunted.

"What? What? Talk to me." McKay was already on his feet and moving towards the door.

"Rodney—the, the planet. Someone's dialed in." Sheppard took a quick, harsh breath, both hands on his hips.

"I—we—have to get someone over there. We have to get over there now. I'll take a jumper and the team—"

"Hold on—wait—" Rodney's communicator crackled, he mouthed the channel to Sheppard. Sheppard snapped his head up as his own, set to the right channel, came to life as well.

"McKay! McKay! Someone's here!" It was a shaky, petrified whisper, but still recognizable.

"Thank god. Stay there, we're on the way."

"Hurry up! They're coming this way. Oh God. Rodney..." Kavanagh's words trailed off, his voice dull and dead from the third sentence. McKay heard something that sounded like panicked breathing, then a sudden, sharp cry, followed by a heavy thump and a choked, slowly exhaled groan.

Then there was nothing. Sheppard ran both hands through his hair, fumbled with his communicator.

"Teyla, Ronon, jumper bay, now!"

Teyla and Ronon were waiting in the bay. In a few minutes they were airborne, speeding away from the space gate and toward the silent planet.

There were no words at first, only a tense silence. Finally Sheppard swallowed and glanced back at Teyla.

"Can you—can you tell Rodney what you told me?"

Teyla sighed, her eyes larger than usual with concern.

"I wish you had told me of your plans before enacting them. Either Ronon or I could have told you that this planet is deserted for a reason. Since ancient times it has been the secret meeting place for a violent, primitive tribe called the Begurians. They are nomadic and use Stargates to find and plunder new lands, periodically returning to planets such as these to avoid pursuit.

McKay looked from Teyla to Sheppard slowly. Sheppard didn't meet his eyes.

"I swear, I looked it up—I researched every—"

"The information is word of mouth, Rodney. It is not commonly known to the ruling classes. The Begurians are a small force and few consider them important enough to be of note. As there are no special resources on the planet to lure colonists or military forces from larger civilizations, the Begurians have used it with impunity for many hundreds of years. And their reputation for savagery keeps local travelers away."

"What—what would they do, if they...found someone on their, uh...secret planet?" Rodney's eyes matched hers for worry.

Teyla looked at him for a second without speaking. She sighed and looked out the window.

"Their society is at the level where they find public pain and humiliation of those under their power entertaining. Captives of the Begurians are sometimes sold into slavery, if they survive their...imprisonment."

"God..." Rodney rested his head in his hands for a few minutes, then joined Sheppard at the front of the jumper.

"Is the fastest this thing goes? Flip some switches or something. Touch something with your...magic hands."

Sheppard's lips tightened.

"Doing twice what it's supposed to now, Rodney. You think I don't—"

"Yeah yeah, ok. I get it. Let you drive." He collapsed into the seat next to Sheppard.

The next few hours played like a poorly made movie. McKay watched, his head spinning, trying to register it all: blood in the sand, tracks in the dark, the glancing swords of flashlights slicing their way through the warm night, the blue light, immeasurably far away and disconnected, signaling that the Begurians had doubled back and were slipping away from them, one by one. Kavanagh's face in his mind, in the sky, the universe. That staring look, foolish and confused, a video stopped forever on one frame. Sheppard, raging, shouting at him, at the gate, even at Teyla for not seeing their ruse, for not warning them, till Ronon stepped between them. The roaring in his ears that threatened to drown out everything else. Sheppard, backing away from Ronon, drunk with anger and guilt, half-falling to the ground next to the gate ramp and finding a place there, head in his hands, elbows on his knees. The soldiers, not fully understanding, passing their search from face to face and coming up empty, a hushed little group apart from the four of them, wanting to be involved but not quite daring.

When they came back through the gate, Rodney knew that essential parts of each one of them remained ground into the sandy earth, lost in the miles of pointless darkness. He knew it as he knew without even looking the question that would be in Weir's eyes as she met them herself in the jumper bay . Sheppard slammed a fist against the side of the jumper and wouldn't come out or look at her. Rodney just stared at her, blankly, his head shaking as if it were possessed. He could hear Teyla giving a clear, terse account of what had happened. Even Ronon was affected, he half-closed his eyes whenever anyone looked at him and Rodney heard him sigh and purse his lips several times, bored and annoyed.

"Hey, no great loss, as far as I'm concerned. I was gonna give him a piece of my knife anyway, sooner or later."

Rodney swung towards him, his whole body poised to defend, what?—he didn't even know what—but at the last second something in Ronon's eyes belied his words. Rodney knew at that moment that there was nothing anyone would ever be able to say.