When Rodney woke, he was treated to a first class view of the infirmary ceiling. It was pretty grim looking, and, once he got his eyes to focus again, he was pretty sure that he could spot blood splatters up there.

But, before he could figure out just how recent they were, Carson's head appeared in his field of vision and then the Scotsman asked, "Awake?"

And that was just dying for a snarky answer, but, for some odd reason that Rodney couldn't quite figure out over the aching, pounding agony that was currently his brain, he couldn't come up with one. Carson frowned and flicked a penlight out of his pocket to shine in Rodney's eyes in a particularly annoying way.

"Go away!" Rodney snapped; brain dropping out of its pain induced stupor to wave Carson off.

The doctor straightened up and smiled, looking relieved. "Glad to see you're back with us."

"I was away?" There went his brain again; Carson had leant over him to shift his pillow to a less awkward position and had jarred his neck ever so slightly. It didn't appear to matter just how small the knock was, the pain was still remarkably intense and off trundled Rodney's higher brain functions.

"Aye, with the fairies," said Carson cheerfully. "You don't remember what happened?"

"My brain's more occupied with being in pain at the moment," moaned the scientist.

"Fair enough." Carson stepped back to run an eye over the screens beside the bed, made an 'hmm' noise and then shifted forward to run careful fingers across Rodney's head. "You and your scientific team were workin' in an Ancient lab you'd just discovered." Rodney noted he was using his best 'exploring-is-dangerous-to-the-health' voice. "And then, rather predictably, someone hit the wrong button at the wrong time and the ceilin' fell in on you." He shrugged matter-of-factly. "You were stuck under there for five hours until the rescue teams dug you out."

Rodney frowned, and then winced as bruised skin complained. "Why don't I remember any of it?" He paused. "Just how long was I out?"

"Two days." Dr. Beckett had crossed to the medicine cabinet and brought out a small bottle of pills. "But that's only because Dr. Zelenka informed me you'd gone without sleep for four days beforehand."

"It was only three! And they were well spent, thank you very much!"

"I'm sure Rodney."

Rodney's aching head made itself felt again, causing the physicist to whimper, "I am going to get drugs for this?"

"As much as I love dosin' you to the eyeballs with the extra-strength painkillers you are undoubtedly thinking about, Rodney, the only thing you're getting is this bottle of aspirin –" Carson set the pills down on the bed. "– and doctor's orders to take it easy for a few days."

"Oh. How nice."

Rodney decided it would be in his best interests to at least take the next day off, so he could pretend to have tried to relax for a couple days. Of course, that didn't exactly pan out the way he'd told himself it would, and so at noon the next day he found himself in the midst of his now bruised and battered science team again.

The ones with the nastier bruises and cuts and the few with slings or crutches, he swiftly rounded on, snarling that he didn't need injured people slowing his work down and to go rest before they screwed something major up. They took it with a minor amount of grumbling, as did the others when he told them that anyone who wasn't up to speed today would be sent straight back to their quarters and not let out until the next week.

He neglected to mention the throbbing ache inside his own skull.

With a significantly reduced team, Rodney was left to run three experiments on his own, prodding at Ancient technology in the vague hope that it would work. Across the room Zelenka was tapping away on his laptop. Every so often he would pause and look around uneasily. As time went on and the pain in Rodney's head increased to the point he could no longer focus on his work, he began to notice how anxious Zelenka's glances were getting.

Finally the pain grew too intense and Rodney gave up even pretending to work, settling for slumping at the table with his head in his hands instead. The scientists who came over to check on him were dismissed with a croaky order to get some food and sleep, and to take their co-workers with them.

"You hear them too?" whispered Radek's voice in his ear. Rodney jerked to the side, away from his colleague. There was only the two of them left in the room.

"Jesus, Zelenka!"

The Czech scientist grabbed his arm in an impossibly tight grip. "Rodney, you hear them, yes?" His eyes were overly bright and focused on a point beyond Rodney's head.

"If it'll make you let me go, yes!" He tried to pull his arm out of Zelenka's grip but he was held fast.

"You know who they are?"

"No! Would you let me go already!"

Zelenka twitched violently, as though he'd been slapped. His grip tightened on Rodney's arm.

"Zelenka!" Rodney snapped. He was in pain and scared, and that was never a cause of a good mood.

"They're listening…" mumbled the Czech dully, "They know what we're doing, Rodney…"

"Look, this might be a shot in the dark, but you are completely insane!"

There was a distinct metallic scraping noise. Rodney looked down. Zelenka had pulled a knife from a hiding place under the table.

"If you're not with me, you're with them," the man sing-songed, apparent terror making his voice high-pitched.

"I'm with you! I'm with you! I've never been on one person's side so much as I am right now!" yelped Rodney, staring at the knife as Radek waved it around like a drunken man.

"That's good. I would hate to have to kill you, Rodney."

"I would hate for you to have to kill me too!" He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, trying to focus on something other than the apparently crazy Czech, or the blade, or the headache that was still bubbling away merrily in his brain. "Ok, ok." Another deep breath and he opened his eyes again to see Zelenka watching him carefully. "What!"

"You are all right?"

"I'm fine!" Rodney growled. He paused and added. "I'd be better if you let me call Colonel Sheppard, though…"

"Why?" Radek looked suspicious.

"He could help me – I mean us! Us!"

"What if the Colonel is with them?"

"He won't be," said Rodney calmly, "I know John. He won't be."

"All right." Radek released Rodney's arm and waved him over to where he had set his earpiece down when it had begun to irritate his headache.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

There was a moment's pause, which Rodney spent silently panicking, then, "Yes, Dr. McKay?" There was a particular inflection on the Dr. which made Rodney want to beat something to a pulp - this isn't the time to be difficult, Sheppard! I'm going to be stabbed to death in a few minutes here!

"I need you to come to my lab."

"Any reason you care to tell me?" John's deviously knowing tone, carefully designed to be so subtle as not to arouse any suspicion with anyone who could spoil their arrangement, soothed Rodney's panic for a few moments. It wasn't long enough; Radek waved the knife wildly and fear raced through the physicist's body again.

"Just get here. Now. McKay out."

"Is he coming?" Zelenka was staring intently at a spot on the wall.

"Yes…" Rodney scanned the tables for anything that could be used as a shield in an emergency.

It was then he noticed how wrong everything was. The conversation he'd just had with John was identical to the one he'd had over a month ago (he could only remember it because of the mind-blowing sex that had followed). There was uncontrollable clutter on every surface, but none of it was

identifiable, no matter how hard he focused on it. There was none of the personalised trash his scientists had carted with them to their new workspaces – no photos, or stupid little executive toys, or mini-statues or personalised mugs or cups. There was -

-a twang as Zelenka threw the knife at the wall. Apparently the Czech was a good shot – the blade jammed in a crack and stuck fast.

"Do prdele!" he snarled, "Missed! Zkurvysyne!" He grabbed the knife hilt and began trying to tug it out of the wall.

"Maybe you should just leave it where it is?" suggested Rodney carefully. Radek span around, leaving the knife still firmly jammed in the crack, and stalked forward a few steps.

"I don't want to have to kill you Rodney, but I will if I have to," said Zelenka, grabbing Rodney's collar. "I will-" The blast of red light that enveloped him threw him back a few paces to lie trembling on the ground. Three marines rushed past and a comfortingly familiar hand gripped Rodney's shoulder.

He turned and smiled weakly at John, who nodded back. The Colonel leant to the side to see over Rodney's shoulder as one of the marines spoke up.

"I think we should get him to the infirmary, sir. The stunner might have done some minor damage."

"Yeah, sure." John's voice sounded strangely far away and echoed oddly, like he was speaking in a tunnel. As the marines carried Zelenka out, he led Rodney to a chair.

"What's happened to you?" he said; his distant voice full of misery and completely unmatched to his gentle relieved grin.

"He was hearing things," began Rodney, "And then he thought I was, and he brought the knife out, and god knows how he got it there, or who left it – maybe one of your soldiers, they do tend to leave worryingly sharp things lying around the place, you should warn them about –"

"It's ok, Rodney. Calm down." John leant forward and kissed Rodney lightly. The sensation was as distant as John's voice.

"This isn't right," muttered Rodney, "I don't underst-"

Everything went dark.

When Rodney woke next the infirmary ceiling was still as grimy as when he had left it. Carson was talking to someone in the background; he sounded stressed out and irritated. And, of course, Rodney's head was still very painful indeed.

"Dr. Beckett?" called a woman – Rodney vaguely recognised her voice as belonging to one of the more senior nurses. "Dr. McKay is waking up."

"Oh, aye?" Carson bustled over and pulled the penlight out of his pocket again. Rodney groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

"If you're gonna shine that thing in my eyes, I'm not playing."

"Well, he sounds like he's back to normal anyway," muttered Carson. The nurse sniggered quietly to herself.

"Does that mean he can help me yet?" snapped an impatient voice in the background. Rodney opened his eyes and spotted Ronon's silhouette skulking at the side of the room.

"As long as it doesn't involve any strenuous physical activity, or risking my life, I think I can," said Rodney, carefully propping himself up and looking around the room for Zelenka.

None of the other beds were occupied.

"I'd be inclined to say yes too," said Carson, "If it weren't for the way he's staring around the room like he's lost somethin'. What's wrong, Rodney?" The last sentence sounded as far away as John's voice had done.

"Zelenka. Where is he?"

"In the control room, checking the gate's secure," growled Ronon. "That's where you last saw him, before you fainted."

"I fainted?" bleated Rodney. He frowned, confused at the new turn of events. "I don't remember that."

"You hadn't slept in over a week, and went off-world, to a planet with the usual rather unfriendly natives. You collapsed when you came back through the Stargate." Carson made a face and tapped one of the screens. "Why d'you want to know where Zelenka is?"

"He went crazy… Didn't he? I could've sworn – Well, I was there, I mean, I should know…" He looked up into both their uncomprehending faces. "He didn't?"

"Look, Rodney," soothed Carson, giving Ronon a worried look, "You were exhausted and stressed out. That kind of thing can make people's dreams a wee bit weird."

"Ok. Ok. That's makes… sense."

"Once you've got over your stupid dreams, can you help me or not?" barked the ex-Runner, losing his patience.

"Yeah, yeah. What do you want done?"

"The planet we were on. I need you to get me there again."

"Oh, this sounds dangerous," moaned Carson, "Ronon, you really can't make Rodney –"

"Can and will."

"How exactly will you be doing that then?" snarled Rodney, getting the feeling he was missing a fair bit of detail. "You can't fire me, and you have no author- Ah. Wait. It's going to be about the guns and the fighting, isn't it?"

"Yup," said Ronon, "Get me back to that planet."

Rodney sighed and gestured to Carson. "As soon as I get a suitable amount of drugs to take the edge of my headache."

"Aspirin do you?"

Rodney groaned miserably. "Just give me them."

Now, suppose you had gone a week without sleep and collapsed after a long, exhausting run across an alien planet while being chased by its inhabitants, who were, according to Ronon at least, armed with large war axes. Obviously the best thing not to do once you've been released from the infirmary is to go right back to your primary mode of transport and try to figure out how to get back there.

But if you have to do it, step number one often involves yelling at someone because they forgot to note down the bloody gate address.

Step number two involves working for six hours straight, cursing the person who though it was a good idea to make the damn keys on his damn computer tablet so damn small.

Rodney was halfway through this step when he turned to Ronon, who was slumped against the wall. "Why am I doing this?"

"I saw some of my people back there," said the Satedan. "People from before the Wraith came."

"Really?" Rodney was intrigued. "Where?"

"In the village, before the natives went all psychotic on us. They were all lined up in the background, behind the huts. Didn't you see them?"

Rodney was reminded of Zelenka and his desperation to escape the things only he could see. He nodded and turned back to his work.

He was so close to finding the gate address he could almost taste it when John walked into the control room.

"Rodney?" Once again, his voice echoed in Rodney's ears. "Are you all right, Rodney?"

"I'm… fine…" Rodney gave John an anxious look. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just you've been gone so long," said John, "We're worried about you. It's not the same without you."

"Oh, well, thanks, I guess, but, really, what the hell?"

"Just keep working on the damn gate, McKay," snarled Ronon from his leaning post against the wall, "Sheppard can explain it to us later!"

"I remember," murmured Rodney slowly, "you saying that last year. And then John said…"

"Look, it was the only thing I could do!" John took a step towards the bigger man, his voice back to normal again. "What else was there for me to do?"

"Something that didn't involve pampering your damn soldiers! They should be able to take care of themselves!" spat Ronon. Nearby, Rodney was mouthing the words to the conversation as they were spoken. This had been an argument over John's conduct with his marines, from one former commanding officer to a current one. Ronon did not like the way John had spared the newest marines a trip off-world to a particularly unpleasant planet, when their military escort was under-staffed. The row had lasted a half-hour and had ended up with Elizabeth and Teyla forcing them into a truce. It had been quickly forgotten and never mentioned again. Until now it seemed.

"Excuse me for trying to make the change a little easier!" snapped John.

A nearby console bleeped, and Rodney leapt at it. There was the last gate address. He swiftly dialled it, needing something to break up the fierce argument that was threatening to spill over into violence already. John full-on roared something at the Satedan, and Rodney gripped at his head in agony as the headache spiked up, aggravated by the noise.

"Rodney?"

Oh, for Christ's sake, John was using that distant tone again. It was really beginning to get on Rodney's nerves.

"Rodney, it's ok. You're safe here. It's all right." John's hand took Rodney's, even as the scientist clutched at his aching skull. The touch wasn't right, and Rodney shied away, only to be pinned against the wall by John's strong hands on his shoulders.

"Calm down, calm down, calm down," murmured John, pressing his forehead to Rodney's and muttering more soothing things under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney could see Ronon running towards the gate room, where the Stargate had dialled out.

"But, Ronon…" he mumbled, "He's leaving. He shouldn't. They're not there. He'll be killed…"

John kissed him, and Rodney was only able to mutter, "Something's not right" before he fainted again.

"Hey, Carson?"

The Scotsman turned to Colonel Sheppard. "Aye?"

"He's talking again," said John, nodding his head towards the shivering form in the bed he was sitting beside. "About Ronon this time."

Carson sighed, wishing this could all be over right now. He crossed the room to look glumly at the diagnostic screens. None of them looked good, but none of the many things being recorded had got worse. That at least was something.

"Why..?" Rodney muttered, eyes flickering open and shut as they'd been doing for the past four days. "Le'me guess… As'p'in?"

"Is it all the head injury?" John asked, "It's nothing else?"

"Aye, it's probably just the knock to the skull he had. There's a chance he's picked up an infection from one o' his cuts, or possibly something's been released into his blood from one o' the fractures, but I'd go with the head injury." The doctor pulled one of Rodney's flickering eyelids open and shone his penlight in it. The response was obvious – the physicist jerked away and muttered something about "damn li'ts". But that was it.

"It's a kind o' delirium, I think," continued Carson, checking Rodney's pulse for want of anything better to do, "Caused by the trauma to his brain. A buildin' did fall in on him after all. Anyway, he must be hallucinatin' about somethin'."

John sighed miserably and slumped back in his chair. "Is there any way we could've..?"

"Prevented it?" Carson gave a humourless laugh. "Only if you were psychic, Colonel, and kept him out of the buildin'. You probably mean if you had got him out quicker? Wouldn't have made much difference. He'd still have a head injury and you'd still be sitting there waitin' for him to wake up." John looked even more depressed at that. "Just keep talkin' to him, John. Some of it's bound to get through."

Rodney hadn't even waited for Carson to give him the aspirin. They wouldn't make any difference – he knew this from experience now. All he had done was wait until the doctor had turned away, and then he had slipped out of the infirmary.

The reason for his being in the infirmary this time was a severe case of some alien disease that sounded as though Carson had made it up on the spot. No one had any recollection of Zelenka going mad, or Ronon running off to save people who weren't there.

Except Rodney of course.

That was why he wasn't surprised to round a corner and see Teyla standing in the middle of a crowd, yelling at the top of her voice that the botanist she'd cornered was a Wraith.

There wasn't anything else Rodney could think of doing but pushing his way through the crowd, noting that all the assembled people's faces were blank and uniform, and tapping Teyla on the shoulder.

The resulting blows made the world wink out and snap back on, with Rodney lying on the floor, shuddering like he had been shocked. Teyla turned back to the unfortunate botanist and was about to reach out and snap the woman's neck when John appeared.

"There is a blood price to be paid, is there not?" Teyla said, looking across at John. The colonel shook his head, and Teyla tilted her head, confused. "Why not?"

"That's just not how we do things, I guess," said John. Words Rodney could remember from almost two years ago.

"John?" he called out, aware of how much he was shaking still, his heart going a mile a minute. The other man turned around and knelt down, grabbing for Rodney's hands.

"Oh, god. Rodney, don't do this to us. Just come back, ok? Just come back. Don't do this, please."

"What's with the far-away voice thing, John?" Rodney groaned, "Could you not do that? Only it's kinda creepy."

"There's my boy," mumbled John, pressing his lips to Rodney's forehead, "You just stay with me, all right? Just stay with me."

"John, I really don't –"

Rodney almost expected the darkness this time.

It had been so much of a bad week that John Sheppard was very tempted to crawl back to his quarters and curl up in a heap on his pillow, whimpering about how much life really sucked. He would have done so had it not been for Rodney, who was still trapped in his own mind, muttering random things to himself.

He had only left Rodney for two hours to catch up on how Atlantis was coping without her best mind. Everyone appeared to be slogging along just fine – although Rodney's science team was looking decidedly worn out; they were redoing and refining every possible experiment and hypothesis they had come across, in the unspoken hope that hell would freeze over and Rodney would wake up to congratulate them on working so hard or something.

But when he returned to the infirmary, someone was not doing too well at all.

A haggard looking Carson explained that Rodney had gone into cardiac arrest and been shocked back to life; that his body was shutting itself down now that the brain appeared to be more interested in its own contents. And after that fright John decided he was not leaving the infirmary again if he could help it.

The next time he woke in the infirmary, he didn't even wait for Carson to appear and explain what had happened. He merely swung himself out of bed, and staggered off to see who had gone crazy this time.

Zelenka was very adamant that he was not seeing invisible people, and wondered if Rodney should be allowed out of the sick ward without a heavy dose of drugs and a straitjacket. Ronon wasn't terribly enthused about diving back through the Gate to an unfriendly planet, and told Rodney to go back to the infirmary, since he was really acting weird. Teyla was chatting amiably with the same botanist she had been trying to kill earlier, and Rodney didn't even bother asking her if she was all right.

Rodney retreated to his lab and grabbed his computer tablet, determined to check out all of Atlantis's systems he could to see if something had gone wrong.

It was Elizabeth who appeared around the doorframe next. She looked… odd. The way he could remember he looking at him after he'd blown that galaxy up – angry and stressed but resigned.

"Rodney? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little stressed out," he muttered dully. A little stressed was one hell of an understatement. He really didn't know what the hell was going on.

"You just came from the infirmary, didn't you?"

"Mmm. I still don't know why I was there."

She looked mildly shocked. "You were poisoned, Rodney. You don't remember?"

He just bit back the sarcastic reply that was begging to be spat out at her and went for a quiet, "No."

"Oh." She paused. "You don't know about Carson, do you?"

The physicist set down his computer tablet slowly. "What about Carson? He's not gone crazy, has he?"

She looked down grimly, and Rodney groaned. "What happened?"

"He was experimenting on us; using us as his private guinea pigs." She made a face. "He's the one who poisoned you."

"Ah." Rodney fumbled for a chair. Elizabeth looked on in concern. "Where is he now? I'm supposing you've taken him out of the infirmary?"

"Colonel Sheppard led a small team to secure him, but he slipped away and secured himself in one of the old Ancient labs."

"Ok then." He took a deep breath, clutched at his head and whined to himself in panic. "I'm really beginning to dislike whatever the hell is happening to me. Because I can remember all this happening and it clearly hasn't and this isn't right!"

"Rodney…"

"I mean everyone's been going crazy; Zelenka, Ronon, Teyla, now Carson, and I'm not sure about John, because what the hell's with the echo-y god voice trick he's been doing?" Rodney sucked in a huge breath. "And this with Carson, it makes no sense! He wouldn't do something like that, I mean he may be stingy when it comes to handing out pain medicine but he wouldn't torture people." He glanced up at Elizabeth, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "For all I know, you're the one suffering from delusions, not Carson! How the hell am I meant to know who's not crazy?" He pressed his hands to his face in despair. "Oh, god, this is so fucked up!"

"Rodney, just calm down." John's voice. Rodney stared up. John had not been there before but he was now and this was making so little sense it was scary, and why the hell did John sound like that and where was Elizabeth, he could have sworn she was there just a second ago and –

He gave up and let his aching brain shut down once more.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed anymore, and was beginning to not care. What difference would it make? As soon as he opened his eyes, the whole damn nightmare would start again.

Of course, if he didn't open his eyes then he'd be stuck on this stupidly uncomfortable bed for the rest of his life.

Aha… A problem. His eyes wouldn't open. This could be difficult. He struggled to make his eyelids obey his instructions for a few moments, and then gave up, exhausted already. And that really was hopelessly pathetic.

"It's been a week and a half now," a sudden voice rather helpfully supplied. "More a week and three-quarters really, if you want to be exact." The mysterious speaker snorted. "You would want it to be exact. You quarrelled with Elizabeth over how much of a solar system you blew up. Most people would have left it at 'Oh crap' but, oh no, you had to be precise about how much you'd be going 'Oh crap' over."

He wished he could remember who that voice belonged to. It was comforting and familiar; he could have sworn he had heard it recently, during all the crazy happenings with… whatshisface and…. Erm…

He couldn't remember their names.

He couldn't remember where the hell he was.

He couldn't remember his own name…

"I've been sitting here for almost six hours now," continued the voice, oblivious to his terrified attempts to recall who he was. "And I know that was possibly the most pointless thing I've ever said in my whole life, but talking to someone for a week and a half straight drains your conversation topics a bit."

As comforting as the voice's tired monologue was, he really wanted it to stop and give him some uninterrupted time to think.

"Carson says he thinks you can hear me," muttered the voice. "In a subconscious way at least."

Carson? That was a person he knew wasn't it? Carson, Carson, Carson…

Ah, Beckett! Dr. Carson Beckett – Scottish doctor extraordinaire! Yes! Score one to him!

"Zelenka's been wondering about a way to improve the shields, as well. He said I should tell you now, so you can't complain when you wake up about not being informed when he starts the process."

Ok, Zelenka. That was definitely a name. He remembered an uncontrollable frizz of brown hair, with glasses sitting low on the nose, and an accent you could cut with a knife – Radek. Yup, score two to the guy who can't remember who he is!

Ooh, he could even remember how to curse in Czech! That was good.

"Teyla, Elizabeth and Ronon –" Scores three, four and five, thank you very much "- keep meaning to drop by, but things keep cropping up. You know the way that happens when one of your friends ends up unconscious in the infirmary."

Infirmary… Now there was a helpful clue. He was in an infirmary, which would explain the ridiculously uncomfortable surface he was lying on – god forbid the sick should be kept comfy. And infirmary always meant Atlantis. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to forget a flying, submersible Ancient city, but there you go.

"I really don't know what else to say," sighed the voice. He gave it his full attention, determined to pick up any more clues. "God, Rodney, just get better would you? Give a guy a break."

Rodney! Yes! Thank you, mysterious voice, thank you! He would have punched the air in triumph, but his arms were on strike, apparently. Just one last person then…

He gave it his all this time, forcing his eyelids to scrape open and whimpering at the light. His head slumped to the side on the pillow and the vaguely human silhouette on his right gradually resolved into a remarkably familiar looking man. Rodney smiled weakly to himself as John continued to drone on in a vague sort of monotone, describing a cat-fight between two botanists the night before.

John's voice was hoarse and scratchy; there would have been a time when Rodney would have shooed him off with a snappy command to take a few throat lozenges before his vocal cords were eroded away, but right now the scientist was more than happy to lie there and listen to the colonel mumble on. At least the man didn't sound like he was speaking through a long tube any more.

"And then," said John, suddenly speaking louder than before, "Katie Brown threw a bucket of something over me, and I had to strip my shirt and pants off right in front of everyone."

Rodney smiled again, and met John's delighted gaze. "All right, all right. You're got my full attention." John lent down for a gentle kiss. "You always did."

"Face it Rodney, you're a romantic at heart."

"If I'd known you were going to act like this I would have just stayed unconscious."

"Nah, you'd never have been able to go that long without talking. You know you were muttering away to yourself even though you were out like a light?"

"Yes. You've told me nearly every day since Carson released me from his clutches. I can almost set my watch by your predictability now."

"I am not predictable! When have I ever been predictable? Who waylaid you yesterday lunchtime on your way from the mess hall to your lab for a whole afternoon of mind-blowing sex?"

"You did, John. But, and I'm really not complaining mind you – cause if I ever complain you're to slap me-"

"Punch, Rodney, punch. Girls slap. Guys punch."

"Whatever. So, yeah, I'm not complaining about the afternoon of mind-blowing sex, because it was truly mind-blowing, but you do that nearly every week. Predictable."

"I'll just stop the mid-afternoon sex sessions then, shall I? Get a little variation into your life."

"I've had enough variation in my life to do me, thank you!"

"Like what exactly?"

"The death of several thousand of my brain cells, due to a large brick falling on my head, for one!"

John laughed and tugged Rodney closer, resting his chin very carefully on the top of his physicist's head. Rodney began to nibble his way down John's stubbly throat, and the colonel chuckled again.

"There's probably a reason Carson said not to be having too much sex you know."

"Yes, because he doesn't get enough. Now shut up. It'll do me a world of good."