AN: AN: Okay…couple things. This is short chapter, yes. Next chapter is longer, it will most likely get odder, all will eventually be explained. : ) Read and review! And I hope you like it!

Rescue in Progress…

…X…

McKay drummed his fingers on the bed nervously, debating what to do. Should he? Dare he? He wasn't the "gun-ho" kind of guy, so maybe he—wait. He didn't need to be the gung-ho guy; Sheppard was that. And he was coming back for him. McKay permitted himself a small smile…maybe there was something to this 'team unity' thing after all. He could do this. Really, he could. So why wasn't he? Weir shot him a glance and McKay decided then and there he was going to do it. Soon.

"So when will McKay be able to get back to work?" Weir asked Beckett loudly.

"Not long. Only about a week or two," Beckett answered. McKay slipped off the bed. He was doing this now. He slipped the break off the bed, and Beckett frowned over at him as McKay stood back up.

"Dropped my pen," he improvised, holding his bag in his hands. "I think it fell in here." He sat back up on the bed, moving carefully so as not to set it moving. Weir tried not to look over at him…waiting…waiting. She didn't know how much longer she could keep up this pretence. Behind her McKay coughed.

"Rodney?" she asked, turning towards him. He took a deep breath.

"You could have come and visited me sooner, you know," he told her carefully, throwing in a slight scowl. She lifted an eyebrow in surprise—deep down she hadn't thought he'd do it. Evidently John—the Major that is—was a good judge of character.

"Well then," she replied, "You should have asked." He sighed and rolled his eyes, trying not to betray anything. Weir turned back to Beckett, who was quietly arguing with Ford. "I'd better go—thanks." He looked up at her and smiled warmly.

"Goodbye Dr. Weir." She felt bad about deceiving him, and then remembered John's—Sheppard's pleading face and sighed. How on Earth—or Atlantis for that matter—had he managed to talk her into this? McKay was looking decidedly nervous, and she decided she'd better get John—the Major—before he said something he shouldn't.

She left quickly, catching the eye of a man leaning against the corridor wall farther down. He was dressed in green fatigues with his hat pulled down far and dark sunglasses on, and she rolled her eyes at his and then gave him the thumbs up, wondering at the audacity of the man who leaned casually against a wall while being hunted.

Sheppard—for that was of course who it was—broke into a delighted grin and then, hiding it quickly, snapped to attention and gave a sharp salute. She smiled at him again as she kept walking, still not breaking stride, as she struggled not to laugh as the played the by-the-book army man to the tee.

"Lieutenant," she said, inclining her head and watching as he slipped the sunglasses down and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Ma'm," he replied, smirking slightly, knowing that she hated being called that, and insisted people addressed her as "Doctor." She rolled her eyes and kept walking, slipping into the nearby room where she was supposed to wait. Peering out she saw John…fine, she scolded her mind, John, put his glasses back up and adjust his hat. Then he marched into the infirmary, protecting, she noticed, both his chest and back. Why the devil had she let him do this?

Well, it was too late to change this now—everything was set up and people were counting on this.

Major John Sheppard disappeared into the infirmary.