AN: Nothing much to say but moothril, wanted to answer your question, and unfortuneately, I don't know. I can tell you this, it's going to be longer than Keep Your Friends Close. I only begin with a plot, and then I flesh out the adventure around specific events so I rarely know how many chapters until it's completed.


Chapter Four

Gate Tricks


John watched as McKay depressed the gate address for Atlantis into the DHD's console. It hadn't taken long to find their way back to the gate, but his feet were feeling the lack of footwear. McKay had managed to hang on to his pack in their incident with the river and had offered a pair of wet wool socks. He'd taken him up on his offer, but the slight protection was a trade off for a distinctly nasty feeling. Still, the clinging wool was preferable to doing serious damage on the trek towards home. He'd had Rodney walk in front hoping his boots would squash anything that had the potential to puncture his feet, and he supposed it had been a success because his feet had survived.

"Major?"

John pulled his eyes away from the mesmerizing effect of the lighted symbols, "McKay?"

"Are you going to send our IDC, or were you planning on waiting for the GDO to do it for you?" McKay had snapped his question but he was examining Sheppard closely, surprised by the man's apparent lack of attention. He supposed Sheppard was tired, they both were, but it wasn't like John to become unfocused on his surroundings.

Sheppard shrugged and started to unbuckle his belt. He'd strapped the spare GDO to his thigh, hoping that it was the last place an enemy would look. The small innocuous lump coincided to one of the thick side pockets on his pant leg, disguising its presence.

"What are you doing?" McKay asked, staring at him like he'd lost his mind.

Sheppard pulled his pants far enough down the right side to expose the strap, "Where'd you think the GDO was?"

"I didn't Major," Rodney stepped away from the DHD. "Just…send the code," he said tiredly.

"Working on it." Sheppard adjusted his buckle and punched his code into the small hand-held machine. "After you," Sheppard extended a hand indicating McKay to go first.

He watched as Rodney was swallowed by the cerulean event horizon. He was right behind the doctor, thinking about a pair of dry socks and a long, long nap. He stepped out on the other side and frowned. "McKay, is it me, or is this not Atlantis?"

Rodney was standing a few feet ahead of him, mouth gaping in surprise, for what they were seeing was inexplicable. "I dialed Atlantis," McKay stated, as if reassuring himself of the fact.

"You did, I watched you." Sheppard confirmed. The sight that greeted his eyes when he emerged from the gate hadn't been the familiar burnished metallic walls and engraved stairs of the Atlantis gateroom. Instead, there was a desert vista laid out before him, with cresting dunes and ripples flowing through the ocean of sand. The bronzed granules radiated heat that left no question of the inhospitable conditions wherever the gate had deposited them. "Gate malfunction?" he asked.

McKay's head jerked with a negative. "If it was, it wasn't one I'm familiar with." He approached the DHD and stared at it for a few minutes. "That's odd."

Sheppard approached him, and stared at the symbols. "What?"

Rodney gestured at the console. "If I didn't know better, I'd think I was looking at the same DHD."

John's expertise wasn't the Stargate, so Rodney's confusion meant about as much as if he told Rodney that the Jumper was the same vehicle as a Jumper. They were the same as far as Sheppard knew. "Isn't that normal?"

McKay pulled the finger from his mouth where he'd been chewing his nail distractedly, "Normal?" McKay regarded Sheppard with a look that reminded him when his mother would explain something to him when he was eight years old. "No, not at all. Actually, each gate is unique, like a snowflake or a fingerprint. No two DHD's are exactly alike."

Sheppard felt fatigue wash over him like a hot flash on a menopausal woman. He ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it further than it already was. "Just fix it, McKay."

McKay barked a laugh. "Fix it? Major, I don't even know what happened." He stared at the DHD in frustration. "It's like asking someone to find their way home if you kidnap them, blindfolded, and drop them in the middle of a forest in God knows where land. There is nothing to go by, nothing to help figure-"

"-I got it McKay. What do you suggest we do?" Sheppard interrupted his ranting.

"I don't have a clue." McKay said, running a hand over the symbols. "Not much of one, anyway."

Sheppard glared. "Give me what you've got."

"We can try Atlantis again."

Sheppard considered the idea. He was sweating profusely and they'd only been here for ten minutes at the most. They couldn't stay here. "Do you think it'll work?"

"No," McKay admitted. "But we can't stay here."

McKay's echoes of his own thoughts decided his course. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain. "Dial it up."

He watched as McKay entered the familiar address. The wormhole connected. He waited for a beat of five then radioed in after submitting their code. "Atlantis, this is Major Sheppard, do you read?"

"Atlantis, this is Weir, what happened? You dialed in but no one came through the wormhole."

Sheppard sagged with relief. They had connected to home. "Roger that Atlantis, we're not sure but somehow we were deposited on another planet. We're coming through, again."

"You have a go Major, we'll be waiting." Weir replied, her voice soothing Sheppard's frayed nerves. This had been a hell of an expedition. He never expected things to go so spectacularly bad, and yet somehow they always did.

John looked across at Rodney, "Ready?"

McKay nodded, and stepped through ahead of Sheppard again. John trailed after, hoping this time he'd see the right place when he walked out on the other side.

He didn't. He looked at his surroundings with growing disgust. "Son of a bitch!"

McKay was standing by the DHD when he arrived, already dropping his pack in preparation of searching out answers for why this was happening, for they hadn't arrived at Atlantis, but back at their original departure point.

"What is going on?" John demanded.

"I don't know." McKay snapped, upset with his inability to explain or predict the events. "I'm working on it. This shouldn't be happening."

"We were connected with Atlantis, right?"

McKay nodded absently. "Yes, but you have to understand, wormhole physics is mostly theoretical at this point, all we know is what we've learned in the years the Stargate program has been around…we're talking a miniscule amount of information," he jerked his head, clearly frustrated. "Look, the fact is this could be anything, and I don't even know what I'm looking for."

John felt the impact of his words like a physical blow. He understood that McKay was smart, and he also understood he wasn't a miracle worker, yet on some base level he expected McKay to always pull that proverbial rabbit out of the hat. He was in charge of the mission but he couldn't contribute to a situation with the gate, not like this. He had the Ancient gene, but he wasn't an Ancient. "Dial Atlantis," he ordered.

"Why? It's not going to work." McKay replied.

"We need to let them know where we are and it wouldn't hurt to get Zelenka working on the problem from their end." Sheppard took a deep breath. "Besides that, maybe they can send supplies through. I'm going to mold if I don't change clothes soon."

McKay grimaced, "Thanks for the visual."

"You're welcome."

Rodney's lips twitched with a slight smile, humor-does the body good, he thought ironically. He depressed the familiar symbols and waited while the wormhole exploded outwards before retreating to its circular prison.

Sheppard again sent his signal and waited, before issuing the understatement of the day. "Atlantis, we have a problem."


Sheppard was resting against one of the rolled sleeping bags that had been sent through the gate, accompanied by none other than Doctor Beckett. Sheppard had exploded on Carson and Doctor Weir, mad as a hornet that Weir had sent him into an unknown situation.

After he'd relayed to Atlantis the problem and explained they needed gear, Weir had finagled the events with the river out of him. How she'd managed that, he still didn't know, but it seemed before he could reconcile giving up more information than he'd intended, Beckett was coming out the gate followed by a cart of supplies, proving their supposition that the problem was on this side of the gate.

He and Rodney had to endure a thorough check-up by the Doctor, and while Rodney had been given the all-clear to work on the gate, Carson had told Sheppard he was running a slight temperature and he'd better stay down and let his body fight off whatever virus was causing it. Beckett guessed his dunk in the river had left his immune system struggling to recoup, letting a simple Earth based annoying cold grab a foothold into his system.

He didn't feel bad, drained really, but it had been a tiring twenty-four hours. Truthfully, he was thankful for Beckett's presence. It was comforting to know they weren't totally cut-off from Atlantis.

He turned his wrist slightly, and checked the time on his watch, before he realized his watch was gone, a victim of his battle with the river. He should've remembered that. He looked up and noticed Beckett watching him.

"How are you feeling Major?" Carson asked.

"Never felt better." Sheppard lied. He saw the falsehood register on Carson's face. Couldn't blame a guy for trying. "What time is it?"

"Since the last time you asked?" McKay snapped from under the DHD. He was lying amidst a jumble of wires and crystals.

"I'm bored. I don't even have my book to read." Sheppard should've asked Weir to send his War and Peace through with the other supplies; he'd have to remember that for the next time they contacted Atlantis.

"Don't go borrowing trouble, Major, a little boredom is a good thing." Carson admonished.

Sheppard paused, overcome by a sneeze threatening to explode. The feeling passed, and he started to reply, only to have the sneeze break through and rattle his head. "Ouch." He hadn't had a cold since they arrived in the Pegasus Galaxy. "Colds suck," he stated emphatically, taking the proffered tissue from Beckett's hand. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

McKay had pulled his head out from under the DHD. "He's not going to pass that around, or anything?"

Beckett looked at McKay with exasperation. "Colds are highly contagious Rodney. I would be surprised if you weren't already infected."

McKay shot Sheppard a dirty look. "Great."

Sheppard regarded McKay nonchalantly, "I was taught it was nice to share."

"Toys!" McKay exclaimed. "Not bugs, and other contagious…stuff."

Sheppard grinned, and shifted farther back into the soft bag. If he couldn't find anything to do, pulling McKay's chain would have to suffice. "Just remember, cover your mouth when you sneeze."

"Have you ever heard of practice what you preach?" McKay said waspishly.

"Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." Sheppard retorted.

"What goes around, comes around"

"Do unto others-"

"Shut up!" Beckett stood between the two men. "Both of you just…be quiet, please." Carson rubbed his head as if he were trying to chase a headache away.

Neither man said another word, but Sheppard glared at McKay, getting the last word even if it was an unspoken word. His actions didn't go unnoticed, but McKay made some type of gesture as he slid under the DHD, and John figured it was probably some type of Canadian insult.

A few minutes ticked by before John couldn't take it anymore. "What time is it?"

"Shut up!" Beckett and McKay chorused together.

John felt a small pang of remorse. He knew he was being childish, and he knew he was driving everyone crazy, but he wasn't good when he was sick. He never had been, in fact, his Mom had occasionally threatened bodily harm during that one year he'd had the flu…and she was talking about doing it to herself, not him.

He needed to take a nap. That was an idea. He could sleep through McKay pulling the solution out of his ass, like he typically did, and they'd wake him up when it was time to return to Atlantis. Sounded like a plan to him. He closed his eyes, not seeing Beckett's face reflect utter relief. He had started to doze when the sharp howls of animals startled him back into reality.

He sat up, reaching for his P90, and scanned the line of trees surrounding the clearing where the gate was located. The howls echoed again, louder and more desperate. Sheppard couldn't fight the shiver of fear crawl through him. Whatever the animals were, they were near.