"I suppose the first thing you should know," Rodney bellowed in order to be heard over the noise in the car, "is that Landry leads the SGC now."

John took his foot off the brake he wished he had over on his side of the car and nodded. The two men were currently barreling down Hwy 133 with half the windows down and the heat blasting at full strength. The small Toyota Prius Rodney had rented at the airport was cramped inside, and John was holding on for dear life. It wasn't the tremendous speed at which Rodney was currently traveling that bothered John, per se. He'd been a fighter pilot for half his life for goodness sake. It was the fact that Rodney was such a horrible driver that he kept drifting in and out of his lane as he screamed over the noise at John. That and the fact that he was apparently trying to turn the rural country highway into the next Autobahn.

John had never been in a car with Rodney McKay before. And now he knew he never would again. He'd be more comfortable in a humvee, but no one really used those things anymore. It was all tiny hybrids or electric vehicles for people of Earth now. John was certainly missing the fortified interiors of those humvees right now. At least then a steel cage would protect them if Rodney somehow managed to go off-road the next time he got distracted and they rolled.

John decided ignoring the scientist's antics was the best course of action.

"So what's up with the USSF?" he practically had to shout over the din. "How much sway does the government have over the program?"

"Practically none," Rodney said, taking the next hairpin turn at a speed that would have made Mario Andretti blush. John was an adrenaline junkie as much as the next guy, but this was something else entirely. Rodney was a terrible driver. And what was up with the open windows and heat on full blast?

"Or at least they don't have any sway that I've ever seen." the scientist went on. "They pretty much leave me alone to do whatever I want."

"So then why the sudden rush to go back?"

Rodney shrugged. "It's time, I think. Your government finally seems to have its head out of its ass. Plus, I think they just really really want to make sure our friends the Wraith are never coming back."

"I think I pretty much took care of that, Rodney."

The scientist looked over at him seriously. "Or so we hope."

But John wasn't ready to think about those kinds of things quite yet. Rodney didn't seem to be either and went back to humming along tunelessly to the radio.

"So how is all this going to work?" John asked.

"Well, our first stop will be Cheyenne Mountain. That's where the SGC is still headquartered."

"I figured the Wraith would have destroyed that place trying to get at the gate," John said, struggling once again to be heard over the noise. His head hurt and there was a crick in his neck from sleeping in his chair last night after chivalrously offering up his bed to McKay. The strange wind tunnel made up of hot and cold air wasn't helping matters much.

"Oh, they tried to," Rodney replied. "But the gate teams were able to hold them off."

That comment reminded John of something else he'd been wondering about. "What about SG-1? What are they up to these days?"

Rodney adjusted his hands on the wheel. John knew it was a risk asking him all these questions while he was still driving, but he still had so many of them. 18 years was a long time to be out of the loop.

"We might see Dr. Jackson a bit while we're there. He's the only one who's still around the base, though everything that happened with the Wraith hit him pretty hard. I heard Teal'c went back to the Jaffa and has been busy knocking out the remaining Goa'uld in the galaxy."

"And General O'Neill?"

Rodney's face fell. "We lost him about five years ago. Natural causes. He went in his sleep."

"I see," John said quietly, knowing Rodney probably wouldn't hear it over the noise. "Well, that's good I suppose."

Rodney glanced over at him. "I keep forgetting how much of this you still don't know. Do you have any idea what's going on in the world right now, Sheppard?"

"I read the newspaper, does that count?"

"I would hardly call Backwoods River Weekly cutting edge journalism."

John had to laugh at that. "Fair enough."

"So then, what do you know?" Rodney asked him.

John turned down the heat a little and thought about it. "I know they cannibalized the branches of the military and call it the USSF now. I also know they've pulled themselves together enough to send you all the way out here to try and collect me. Other than that, I've pretty much been in the dark for the last few decades."

Rodney nodded. "Even so, I doubt it'll take very long for you to reacclimate. It's all still pretty much the same. Everyone is just under the same umbrella now. I imagine once they get people to start enlisting again, things will go back to the old ways."

"Maybe," John mused. "But that kid they sent in before you sure didn't look like any Air Force Major I've ever met," he pointed out, recalling Bradshaw and his perfectly manicured dress blues. If anyone at the USSF had any sense whatsoever, they would have sent in someone in plainclothes and with the proper security clearance to actually talk to John about Atlantis and the SGC. Bradshaw was a mistake.

"Some things were bound to change, I guess. The Wraith did take out a good chunk of the population," Rodney explained. "We were lucky they were undiscerning with their darts and took as many billionaires as they did essential workers. It was pretty easy to rebuild. It just took a while."

"Is that why I'm back? Are they really ready to start the Stargate Program back up?"

"Well, the Stargate itself never really stopped running. The Atlantis expedition is another story. They just recently decided to revive that." Rodney explained, throwing John a strange look when he rolled up his window a bit so he could better hear the scientist.

"All thanks to you, I imagine."

Rodney waved him off, the Toyota swerving dangerously as he did so. "They tell me it's so I can continue with my wormhole drive research and to keep our Pegasus space exploration efforts alive, but I have another theory."

John was quick to hazard a guess, "Weapons?" Isn't that what it always came down to in the end?

"Give the man another medal," Rodney said dryly.

"What about that new power source you were telling me about?" John asked, changing the subject.

Rodney just smiled coyly. "Come on, Sheppard, you can't expect me to tell you all my secrets! I gotta have something to impress you with once we get back to the base."

Rodney turned his head and winked at him, actually tilted his head in John's direction and full on winked. John was well aware that nearly 18 years had passed since they'd last seen each other, but it was clear that this was definitely not the same man John had said goodbye to nearly two decades earlier. He was about to tell the scientist as much when John spied salvation in the form of a fuel station on the right side of the highway about half a mile up. A plan was already starting to form inside his head.

"Hey Rodney," John said hopefully, "what would you say to a quick pit stop?"

"It's a Prius, Sheppard. We don't need any more gas."

"I was asking more for my bladder," John replied. "If you catch my drift."

Rodney muttered something obscene under his breath and then jerked the wheel to the right just as they reached the gas station. He turned in so fast, John could have sworn half the car lifted from the pavement. The screech of their tires earned them several startled looks from the other patrons. None of this phased Rodney in the least. He just kept mumbling under his breath about how he told John to use the facilities before they left, and what was he running here? A goddamn taxi service

John jumped out of the Prius as soon as Rodney threw it in park and stretched his cramped legs. He was missing his beat-up old Ford pickup at the moment, though he doubted the rusty old thing would have gotten them much further than Madison.

"Do you want anything?" John asked Rodney through his open door. The scientist had procured a tablet from somewhere and was tapping at it angrily.

"No."

Shrugging, John closed his door and meandered into the convenience store servicing the gas station. The interior was bright and clean, a far cry from the rural places he was used to. John used the washroom quickly and then headed over to the snack section. He was determined to find something to bribe Rodney into handing over the keys. There was no way they were going to make it all the way to Milwaukee in one piece with the way the scientist was driving. Perusing the aisles, John tried to remember the kinds of things Rodney liked and eventually settled on a bag of cookies and a bottle of Coke. He gathered up his purchases and headed to the counter where he was greeted by a spunky kid with green hair and a nose ring.

"That everything?" the young man asked and John nodded. "You want a bag?"

"I'm good."

Armed with his bribes, John pushed back out into the cold Wisconsin winter air to find the Prius was no longer where he'd left it. Rodney had moved it over to the pumps and was fiddling with the automatic pay machine.

"What?" he asked when John walked over to him and gave him a look. "I was going to have to put gas in it eventually anyways. Might as well do it while we're here."

John didn't say anything, just handed Rodney the bottle of diet Coke he'd gotten for him inside. The scientist took it gladly and sipped at it while he waited for the tank to top off. John uncapped his own Dr. Pepper and watched as four young boys all tumbled out of the back of a minivan that had just pulled up. An immediate brawl broke out as one boy punched another and they started fighting in earnest on the pavement. Their harried-looking mother emerged from the van a moment later but didn't even attempt to break up the fight.

"You ever have any, McKay?" John asked

"Have any what?"

"Kids," John replied, gesturing towards the rowdy boys.

Rodney replaced the gas pump and didn't say anything. John looked back over at him immediately.

"McKay?" But Rodney was very obviously ignoring him as he waited for his receipt to print.

John scoffed, but he also understood what it could mean.

"Had them, or wish you had them?" he prodded.

Rodney looked up at John with an unreadable expression on his face. "That's a loaded question."

John pushed away from the car. This was not the answer he had been expecting. "Not the way I see it, McKay. It's a simple yes or no."

Rodney chewed on his bottom lip for a second. "Just do me a favor, ok? Ask me about it some other time. Maybe once we get back to base."

John was completely flabbergasted, but he also was willing to consider Rodney's proposal. Curiosity aside, there was a way for them to both get something out of this.

"I'll make you a deal," John said finally. "You give me the keys and let me drive for a while and I promise I won't ask you about the children you may or may not have until we get to Colorado. Deal?"

"Deal," Rodney replied almost immediately before throwing John the keys. He didn't seem to realize that John had ulterior motives for asking him to drive.

Climbing in behind the wheel of the Prius, John let the seat slide back as far as it would go. Rodney drove the way John imagined his grandma might have if she were still alive today: with the seat as close to the steering wheel as it could get and the seat back up in the straightest position possible. John found the electronic controls easily enough and was soon more comfortable than he'd been in days.

"You do have a driver's license, don't you?" Rodney asked from the passenger seat, looking worried.

"Sure," John lied, slipping the car into gear and easing them back out onto the highway. When the speedometer hit 90 a few minutes later, you couldn't even tell. The ride was smooth and quiet. A complete 180 from when Rodney had been behind the wheel.

Rodney dug into the snacks John had bought and for a while, the car was filled with nothing more than twangy strands of country music and Rodney's crunching. Eventually, though, John's curiosity got the better of him and he broke their silence with some of the questions that were still rattling around in his brain.

"So how come you didn't go back to Canada after the war?" he asked.

"How could I?" Rodney snapped back, his voice sharp.

"I'm sorry," John said immediately, slightly taken aback by his friend's tone. "I was just wondering."

"No, I'm sorry," Rodney replied. "I keep forgetting that you weren't around for everything that happened after the war."

Rodney went quiet for a moment as though choosing his next words carefully.

"I didn't have anything to go back to," he finally went on. "My sister and her daughter were culled by the Wraith. Her husband managed to get away, but he disappeared right after. I have no idea where he is now."

"Shit, Rodney. I'm sorry."

The scientist just shrugged and turned his face away from John so he could stare out the window. John tried to come up with some words of comfort for his friend, but what could he possibly say to Rodney that would make any of this ok...

"You must really hate me."

Rodney sighed heavily before turning back to John. He was expecting to see anger on the scientist's face, but there was nothing but sadness behind Rodney's eyes.

"I don't hate you," he said. "No one hates you. Or blames you for what happened for that matter."

John wasn't sure he believed that, but the USSF had made the offer, so maybe there was some truth to it. Whatever the case, John figured a change in subject was in order.

"What about Landry? What's he like?"

"Oh, you two are going to get along just fine, I think," Rodney said, perking up slightly. "He's exactly like you. All shoot first and ask questions later. Though he did give me my lab back on Atlantis, so I guess that earned him some brownie points. He's much better than some of the other candidates they were considering for the job."

"Like you?" John could see it, especially with the older, wiser McKay sitting next to him.

Rodney just snorted. "You and I both know I am hardly what the SGC would call "leadership" material," he said, doing the air quotes and everything. "But I don't think I would have taken it even if they offered it to me. I just want to continue my research. I'm not interested in managing anything bigger than my lab."

John could understand that. "So, you don't want me to ask you about any kids you might have, so what about significant others? Did the great Rodney McKay ever get married?"

"I was for a little while," Rodney replied, surprising the hell out of John yet again. Though the way he had said it… John was pretty sure he'd just touched another nerve. Was it ever going to be easy between them again?

"Who was she?" John prodded gently, and then added, "Or he?"

Rodney rolled his eyes, "Don't get cute, Sheppard. Her name was Diane and we were married for exactly as long as we needed to be. About 6 months."

John waited for Rodney to elaborate but the scientist was now pointedly looking out his window again. The subject was apparently now closed.

"You mentioned Dr. Jackson and Teal'c from SG-1, but what about everyone else? What are Carter and Mitchell up to these days?"

John was eager to hear stories of how the world had moved on without him. It would help him better prepare for whatever he walked into at the SGC. His question, however, was apparently another wrong one.

Rodney rubbed at his forehead, obviously distressed. "Remember how I told you we lost a few people while we were trying to take down the IOA?"

"Yeah…"

"That was them. Car bomb. Both of them. Two weeks after you disappeared."

"Ah," John said quietly. No matter how many times Rodney tried to tell him that the past no longer mattered and all had been forgiven, there was no changing the fact that Sam and Cameron were dead. That John had run away and people died. Rodney hadn't come right out and said it, but was always implied. That blood was on John's hands. And it always would be.

"For what it's worth," John said, finding his voice again, "I really am sorry."

And he was. Sorrier than anyone could ever imagine because even though there were extenuating circumstances surrounding the things he had done, it was still his finger on the trigger. His actions that had brought about the end of the world and destroyed so many fucking lives.

What was the SGC thinking, offering him this chance to lead the expedition? Didn't they realize he didn't deserve it? John knew in that moment that he would come back to help fly the city back to Pegasus, but after that, he was done. He would say proper goodbyes this time, and then gate back to Earth the first chance he got. And then he would go find some new hole in the world to disappear into. It was the right thing to do.

The past was like a noose tightening around his neck. The closer they got to Cheyenne, the more the ropes bit into his skin. By the time they were finally at the base, John wasn't sure he was even going to be able to breathe. Why had he ever let Rodney talk him into this?

"You're doing it again," the scientist said. "I can hear you thinking all the way over here."

John shifted in his seat but there was nothing left to say.

"You know, I really did mean what I said to you back in the cabin last night," his friend continued. "I really have forgiven you for everything. And there isn't a single person at the SGC who doesn't want to see you come back and be a part of all this."

His friend was just being idealistic now. The things John had done, the things that had been done to him, they weren't so easily swept under the rug. No matter how much sunshine and rainbows Rodney tried to throw at him.

"But enough about me," Rodney said, waving a hand. "What about you? What have you been up to for the past 18 years?"

John had to laugh at that. It was another loaded question, and not one he was particularly ready to answer. "Not much."

Rodney shook his head. "Now that I don't believe."

"Honestly, McKay, there isn't much to tell. I settled in Blue River, found a place to live, and pretty much kept to myself after that."

"Well, now I know you're lying to me," Rodney accused. "I saw your front door, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, Rodney. But there's no juicy story there. I was just fooling around with a local girl and it ended badly. End of story."

Rodney turned in his seat to look at John full on. "Wow, not much has changed with you over the years, has it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're still just as closed off as you used to be."

"Hey," John said, getting defensive, "I'm trying here. This isn't exactly easy for me!"

"I'm not them , Sheppard," Rodney pointed out. "I'm not some local girl you're having a fling with. I'm your best friend and we have more history together than anyone. You can talk to me."

"Maybe you're just not asking me the right questions!" John snapped back. "Why don't you just come out and ask me what you really want to know?"

Didn't the scientist see? That to ask John what he'd been doing for the past 18 years was to ask him to rehash all the horrible details? To relive those god-awful months after leaving Rodney behind all those years ago? This was his fight with Carrie all over again, a battle between his mind that was telling him to shut down and keep it all inside, and his heart which wanted nothing more than to spill his guts to the man sitting in the seat beside him. The one who knew him better than anyone else in the entire world. Who had fought beside him and buried friends with him. The only person John had probably ever truly longed for.

Only he couldn't tell Rodney any of that. He couldn't admit to how conflicted he was feeling over having the man mere inches away from him but not being able to reach out and touch him. That would mean admitting to everything. All of it. John couldn't burden Rodney with all that again. And he certainly couldn't burden him with the stories of the dark, lonely days he spent after the war when he roamed the countryside alone with a bum knee and no home, nearly eaten alive by his guilt.

"Fine then!" Rodney fumed, the color high in his cheeks. "You want direct? I'll give you direct. Where did you go after the war? What happened to you after the Wraith?"

The question was like a slap in the face. John had demanded bluntness and now he was getting it. Whether he liked it or not.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, and Rodney threw up his hands.

"That's bullshit!"

"I'm telling you the truth, Rodney," John insisted. "I'm honestly not sure what happened. I woke up in some trauma center in Denver after the crash in pretty rough shape. None of you were around and all the nurses kept calling me John Evans. I waited for weeks for you all in that hospital, but you never showed. I figured you all had a good reason for leaving me there, so I mailed you the evidence we smuggled out of the city and disappeared. It's as simple as that."

It wasn't really. Not by a long shot. But John wasn't quite ready for that conversation just yet.

"Seriously?" Rodney asked, his eyes wide. "That's really how it happened?"

"That's the truth, Rodney. I had to run away. How could I stick around after… after everything that had happened?"

"But…" Rodney looked like he had more to say, but couldn't quite seem to form anything into a coherent sentence. "Wow," was all he eventually said as he sat back in his seat.

"Why?" John asked. "What did you think happened?"

Rodney was quiet for a second. "That's something you're going to have to talk to Carson about once we get to Cheyenne. But the way he tells it, he sent you off with two helicopter pilots and we never heard from you again. They were supposed to take you to some other hospital than the one in San Francisco, only you never showed."

"We went looking for you as soon as we could get away. Carson especially. He took the news that we had lost you a lot harder than anyone else. I can't tell you how many hospitals we searched before we finally had to give up. When we couldn't find you, the SGC had you pronounced legally dead." Rodney looked over at him. "At least they had until three days ago."

"Shit," John said on a heavy exhale. He had always assumed that his friends had sent him away, and under an assumed name, so he could protect the evidence they had smuggled out of Atlantis. It had never occurred to him that there might be some other reason no one had ever come for him in that hospital, beyond their general disgust at him for what had been done. To hear it told otherwise was truly extraordinary.

"So what did you do after that?" Rodney asked.

"I spent some time with these folks in Boulder," John found himself answering. "After that, I mostly stuck to state parks. My knee was in pretty rough shape and knew I needed a place to lay low."

John fidgeted in his seat a little then when the injuries in question throbbed as if they knew he was talking about them. He'd limped out of that hospital and done some irrevocable damage to his knee, but 18 years of self-prescribed physical therapy later and he'd pretty much gotten it back up to full strength. It hardly ever bothered him anymore, save for a random twinge every so often when he was out for a run or over-exerting himself in some way.

"I made my way northeast mostly. Eventually, I settled in Blue River where you and the USSF found me."

There was so more to those years, of course. But it was nothing Rodney, or anyone else at the SGC, needed to know about. At least not yet.

"Nice place you picked. I didn't even know they made towns that small."

John shrugged his shoulders, "It was a means to an end."

"And how about the girl who broke your front door? Was she a means to an end, too?"

"I really don't want to talk about that right now, Rodney."

"Why not?" the scientist pressed. "At least tell me her name."

John sighed. "Carrie, ok Sherlock? Now would you please get off my back about it?"

"Was she at least pretty?" Rodney pressed on, apparently undeterred.

John kept his mouth shut.

"Come on, Sheppard. Inquiring minds want to know."

"She was a waitress at one of the restaurants in town. Can we drop it now? Please?"

John half expected Rodney to keep on ribbing him about it, but the scientist actually got serious for a moment. "But you liked her, didn't you? Just not enough to stick around that place and tell me to go to hell."

John wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. Or what his friend was getting at for that matter. John eventually settled on, "It's complicated. Kinda like the kids you may or may not have."

"Touché," Rodney replied somberly. "So... do you love her?"

John nearly choked on the sip of lukewarm Dr. Pepper he'd just taken and the car swerved off the road and onto the shoulder. Behind them a cloud of dust obscured the rearview as John fought to correct.

"Alright then," Rodney chuckled to himself. "I guess that answers that question."

"You've got no idea what you're talking about, McKay.".

The scientists threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Of course I don't."

"And if you know what's good for you, you won't bring it up again."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

John glared over at his friend and then turned up the radio for good measure. They didn't talk much after that, and John was relieved. Rodney asked him a few more questions about some of the odd jobs he'd taken over the years and then offered up a little info on the different directions his wormhole drive research had taken over the years. But mostly they just sat in silence, thinking about the things that had been said.

John decided he liked this new version of Rodney McKay, even if he was still mad at him. There was something very different about the man sitting next to him. A kind of stillness that had never been there before. Like Rodney had suddenly woken up one day and found his center. The old McKay would have tried to fill the endless miles with mindless chatter and nervous energy. This new Rodney seemed much more at home in his own skin and was picking up on things that would have flown right over the old Rodney's head. John caught a glimpse of the scientist's old arrogance and pompousness every once in a while, but those moments were few and far between. John liked to imagine that Rodney had led a good, happy life and this was the end result.

John really hoped that was true, because of all the people from his past, Rodney deserved it the most. It was nothing like the life John had led and he was thankful for that.

John found his thoughts meandering west and back towards Blue River a lot. Carrie had probably found the note he'd left taped to the Antique store's front window by now. Likely understood that John was probably never coming back. His only hope was that she could take some of the vague reasons he'd given her for leaving and start moving on. She deserved greater things than him. She deserved to have someone ride into town and sweep her off her feet and back to the city where she had always belonged. He knew she would likely stay in Blue River and run the store after her elderly Aunt eventually passed away, but he liked the sound of his other scenario better.

What was she thinking right now, he wondered? Was she mad? Relieved? Would she be able to forget him just as quickly as John was attempting to forget her? He knew now that he would always miss her, but what they had was never love. John had never let anyone in close enough for him to love. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There had been one person, a very long time ago.

But maybe leaving Carrie by note was not the best of ideas. Maybe when John finally got to Cheyenne, he would give her a call and the proper goodbye she deserved.

When John and Rodney finally arrived at General Mitchell International Airport an hour or so later, McKay directed him to one far end of the airport where all the private jets were housed. The USSF had apparently taken over the entire terminal, complete with a private entrance where the two soldiers stood sentry at all times. John couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a man in uniform (besides Bradshaw) and caught himself staring a few times. Uniforms were things John had gone to great lengths to avoid during his time on the run. So it was a bit unnerving to be lost in a sea of them now. It was also making him just the tiniest bit excited. Once he got to Cheyenne, and they whipped him back into shape, they were going to give him an entire expedition to command. He'd already decided that he wouldn't be sticking around to have that command for long, but it would still be his. He would still have a battalion of men at his command.

Leadership had come pretty easily to John in those old days. But there was still a small, insecure part of him that was wondering if he was still up to snuff. If he still possessed that commandeering presence that always seemed to have men flocking to his side to fight. He was going to need it if he expected any of them to forget the past and follow his orders again.

John pushed these intrusive thoughts aside and followed McKay into the huge terminal. Someone had erected a large, ornate clock in the center. It reminded John of the one he knew still stood in Grand Central Station. It was here Rodney dropped his luggage and turned to John.

"Wait here. I'm going to go check us in and pick up a few things we're going to need."

John nodded and dropped his own duffle down beside Rodney's carry on. The scientist scurried off into the crowd, leaving John to his own devices. He spent the time studying the strange uniforms of the soldiers that passed him, and the unfamiliar insignias that adorned their lapels. The thought of there not being an Air Force or an Army any longer was so strange to him. He just hoped it wouldn't take him too long to memorize all the new stuff. John imagined it was going to be a lot like kids trying to teach a frustrated old grandpa the internet.

On the other hand, it was nice to see an airport terminal that was bustling with activity. The world had been such a messed up place for so long after the war that John wasn't sure things would ever get back to some semblance of normal. And yet here he was, standing in the middle of a bustling airport terminal, surrounded by people and noise. Waiting to board a plane that would take him back to a life he never imagined would wait around for him. Back to the SGC and the people he had not seen or spoken to in nearly two decades.

Maybe Bradshaw and Rodney were right, John thought to himself as he took in the terminal around him. Maybe things had changed enough that John could slip back into his old life again with much more ease than when he'd been forced out of it. John was so lost in these thoughts that he barely registered when Rodney found him again.

"Welcome back from the dead, Colonel Sheppard," the scientist said as he passed John a thin, white envelope.

John took the envelope and tore into it. Inside was a freshly minted military ID. John noticed immediately that they had used an old service photo of him from years ago. Long before Atlantis or the Wraith. He flipped the ID out onto his palm and had the sudden urge to reach inside that photo and smack the man smiling back up at him. The one with the messy hair and carefree smile. John was nothing like the kid in that photo anymore. Not even close. He'd long ago stuffed him into the small space beneath his bedroom floorboards, along with everything else from his past.

"Are you ok?" Rodney asked, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. John flinched and took a step back. The horrified look on Rodney's face intensified. "Shit! I'm sorry, I didn't even consider the possibility that… Good lord, twelve Ph.D.'s and you'd think I could have figured out that maybe some of this wouldn't be so easy for you." Rodney closed the gap between them again but didn't try to touch John this time. "Look, we don't have to do this today. I can go pick the rental back up and we'll drive to Colorado. We can make a road trip out of it. I'll even let you drive the entire way."

Rodney had lowered his voice so that only John could hear what he said next. "No one is going to think any less of you if you need a little more time.

John offered his friend a small smile. This was progress. The old Rodney would never have understood and told him to suck it up and get his ass on the plane.

"I'm gonna be ok," John promised, somewhat believing it. "You don't need to worry about me, McKay."

Rodney pulled a face that seemed to suggest of course he was going to keep worrying, but he did let the matter drop. "Then if that's the case, why don't we go and get something to eat?"

John had not been expecting the terminal to have much in the way of food choices, but Rodney steered them through the crowd and over to a little commissary that had everything from fruit cups to fully cooked, restaurant-style meals. John chose a sandwich and a bottle of water and then had another awkward moment with Rodney at the registers when he remembered he had no money. Rodney begrudgingly paid the elderly woman behind the counter, and then they both settled down at the first empty table they came to. Before John could even unwrap his sandwich, Rodney was sliding a boarding pass across the table towards him.

"We'll leave in about 45 minutes. Our flight into Denver should only take about 3 hours. From there they've arranged a helicopter to fly us over to the mountain. I imagine we'll be back on base sometime tomorrow morning."

John nodded, picking up the ticket so he could inspect it. The flimsy boarding pass had JOHN SHEPPARD stamped across the top in bold, unapologetic letters. It was quite possibly the first time he'd seen his real, god-given name printed on a piece of paper in over 18 years. Had the desk agent recognized it? Was his name known to any of the people in this place? Or was he just another tired old retiree passing through.

Whatever the case, it was suddenly becoming quite clear to John that he was in this for the long haul now. There was no turning back. He was in this until the end, whether he liked it or not.

Stuffing the boarding pass into the back pocket of his jeans, John unwrapped his sandwich and tucked in. The thing wasn't half bad. "So what exactly am I supposed to do once we get to Cheyenne?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Rodney said around a bite of his own sandwich. "I wasn't around much when Lorne went through it. There's this whole re-enlistment ceremony and then I believe they have some sort of orientation set up for you. After that, who knows."

"I see," John said, looking down at the plate, his appetite abandoning him,

"You're not changing your mind on me, are you?" Rodney asked as John began rewrapping his sandwich. His water stood unopened between them.

"No, McKay, I'm not."

"Promise?"

John laughed, half expecting Rodney's pinky to come at him next. "I promise."

"Then... are you ready?"

John looked up at his friend again. "Ready as I'll ever be."