My Roommate Is a Wraith
By Holly-Batali

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Stargate or anything associated to it. Now, if you're done rubbing that in with a dagger and pouring iodine all over it (McKay banned the lemon juice) can we get back to the insanity? Thank you.

WARNING: Contains extreme silliness and stupidity. Proceed at the risk of your own sanity. So in other words (that are a little more blunt), don't come crying to me when your brain is temporarily scrambled by a bunch of stupid Wraith trying to grasp the concept of a Hail-Mary.

Chapter 7: Preperations

"ELIZABETH!"

John was shouting before he was even all the way through the event horizon. He stumbled to a halt, having run full-tilt through the 'gate. He didn't take the time to notice if his team followed or not. He ran up the stairs to the control room.

"ELIZ--"

"What? What is it John?" Sheppard spun around to see Dr. Weir standing behind him, her eyes wide.

Sheppard blinked a few times and stumbled a bit to regain his balance yet again. "Um..hey, how are you?"

Weir raised her eyebrows. "Is everything alright John? What was all that," she nodded to the 'gate and the marine guard by it, "about."

"Oh, that. Yeah, well, see, I just needed to talk to you for a minute, that's all. You know, as quick as possible."

She looks suspiiiciouuus, John thought in a sing-song voice.

"Where's the rest of your team, Colonel?"

Definitely suspicious.

"Um, back on...wherever we were. I forgot." Weir narrowed her eyes.

"What's so urgent?"

John raised a finger and then thought better of it, glancing around. "Um, can we talk somewhere else?"

She still looked suspicious, but she led the way to her office nonetheless.

"Okay," she said, sitting down at her desk and folding her arms. "What's all this about?"

John took a deep breath. "When I was on the planet, I went on border patrol and I started hearing Moe in my head." Weir frowned. "You know," Sheppard said, "one of the Wraith that I was stuck with in that cell? Anyway," he plowed on quickly, not bothering to wait for a reply. "He told me that he needed my help and, since I kind of promised him and Larry and Curly that if they ever need any help not to hesitate to ask. Stupid thing to promise a Wraith, I know, but I did and now he needs my help." John stopped his pacing--he hadn't even realized he'd started--and turned to face Weir, who wore a stunned look on her face. She blinked.

"Are you telling me that you offered assistance to a Wraith?!"

Sheppard waved his hand impatiently. "That's not really the point. See, Moe needs me to give him an answer in two days, same place, and I need to know whether to play nice and help or go in with some flash-bangs, tasers, P-90's, tear gas, a chopper or two and blast the--"

"JOHN!"

Sheppard stopped and blinked, his fast stopping in mid-air where he had been about to slam it down on Elizabeth's desk.

"Yeah?"

"Just--stop." she slumped over her desk and sighed, rubbing her temples. "Let me get this straight. The same Wraith that you were held captive with 'told' you to come onto his Hive Ship and help him out. And you're okay with that? Did they completely scramble your brain on that ship?"

He waved a hand dismissively at her. "Pft. Please. I'm fine. I even asked your permission before answering. How's that for responsible, huh?" John smiled, looking pleased with himself.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," she remarked. John blinked, not knowing if she meant the Wraith alliance or the asking permission. "All right. Well, I'll contact General Landry, see his take on this. No doubt the IOA will want to get involved. In the meantime, I want you to talk with Kate. No offense John, but I think it'll do you some good."

John walked into his quarters, exhausted. After the grilling he'd had from Heightmeyer, he'd finally run into his team (despite his efforts not to by hiding in abandoned corridors when they'd walk by). Ronon was miffed, Teyla was confused, and Rodney was...Rodney.

Sheppard shrugged out of his jacket and sighed heavily, tossing it into the corner of his room. It was only seven o'clock, but he'd officially had enough for one day. That's another first. He faceplanted on his bed, lying there for a minute. Then he groaned and got up.

He took his time in the shower, then changed into a black teeshirt and grey sweatpants, brushed his teeth, and climbed into bed, not really caring about missing dinner--or team movie night. After all, they were just watching the second Back to the Future. John sighed contentedly and pulled up the blankets. I'll come to movie night for the third one, he promised himself silently. The third one is the best one... His thoughts were interrupted by his own soft snores.

"Sheeeemp."

Go away.

"Shemp."

I said, go away!

"SHEMP!"

I'm not listening!

"McKay crashed your Blackhawk. Ronon shot your dog. Teyla said you're an idiot. Weir's sending you back to your planet!"

Still not listeniiiing.

"...football is overrated."

John bolted upright, sweating and gasping. "Holy nightmare, Batman," he muttered to himself. He just won't go away! He had to do something about Moe before he lost his mind...or anymore sleep. But this was Weir's call--right?

"Screw that," he muttered, sliding out of bed.

He walked over to his closet and pulled out a duffel bag and set it open on his bed. He started pulling out armfuls of clothes and sidearms, stuffing them in. He paused, then grabbed the portable DVD player sitting on his nightstand, along with a box of his favorite DVD's. If I'm going to spend who knows how long on a Hive Ship, then I'm going to be entertained. Might as well educate them... He rifled through his extra movies, pulliing out ones that might come in handy. The Three Stooges; The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly; Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy; Star Trek; Batman: the Movie (the good 60's one) and--oh! He couldn't go without the flyboy classic--Top Gun.

"Lock and load," he muttered to himself, stuffing in the last of his supplies. He didn't know exactly how long the 'trip' was going to take, but if it came down to it, he could always bring another bag...do they have Laundermats on Hive Ships?

Sheppard shook his head in an attempt to clear it, then zipped up the duffel and stashed it behind his guitar.

"I don't know I'm agreeing to this." Oh well. I'm overdue for a vacation anyways.

Vacation?! Screamed the rational part of his brain. You call that a vacation?!

Well sure. I'll be off-duty, I won't have to go to debriefings--I'd better not--and I don't have to put up with Rodney. If that's not a damn good definition of 'vacation', then I'm a replicator.

Authors Note: Sheppard's gonna get in trouuuble! I'd hate to be the one going toe-to-toe with Weir on this one.