TITLE: I'VE GOT YOU UNDER MY SKIN
AUTHOR: Wraithfodder
WARNINGS: Violence, language, icky gross critters and some swearing.
See DAY ONE for disclaimers, copyright and other notes.
DAY FIVE

PART 52

Everything was black, but surprisingly, not cold. For some reason, he'd come to associate black with freezing places. The pain that had assailed him for so long, that had made him want to curl into a ball and die, was now muted. Dulled and numb. It was difficult to think past the haze, but soon he recognized its familiar origin. He'd been drugged. Not the bad kind though. His senses filtered in bits and pieces… smells, antiseptic and bed linens… crisp, measured voices of people around him. The infirmary… a Scottish accent, the words at times, indistinct. Beckett. Atlantis. Home.

He'd been at the gate. That tabby cat from hell had attacked and… a blur, just a blur. A surge of worry enveloped him. Where was Zelenka?


Beckett turned over on the hospital bed and his eyes immediately snapped open. Years of hideously long hours doing internship and residency had attuned his body to sleep here and sleep there, but most importantly, he could zero in on important sounds.

The beeping from Sheppard's heart monitor had increased.

Beckett rapidly clambered off the bed, but when he looked across the room at his patient, he realized he didn't have to rush. A nurse was already at Sheppard's side and, oddly enough, so was Dr. Zelenka, who stood on the other side of the bed, clad in one of those god-awful hospital gowns, talking quietly to Sheppard.

"Radek," said Beckett as he checked the monitors for himself, satisfied at what he saw, and then conversed quietly with the nurse. "You should be back in bed."

"The major awoke. Hmm… soumark…" he said softly. Beckett realized he was searching for the English translation. "Not quite awake, a twilight sleep. Yes?"

Beckett nodded. He noticed Zelenka had a hand resting gently on Sheppard's uninjured arm. On a subconscious level, the major would no doubt sense it and relax.

"He is probably not aware of where he is," assumed Zelenka. He scratched at his neck. Beckett resisted the urge to stop him. The poison ivy had spread over half his torso, neck and face, with splotches on both arms and hands. One eye had swollen shut but was looking a wee bit better after the prednisone shot.

"He was more concerned that I got through the gate than himself," continued Zelenka quietly. "Nor did he mention that the cat was stalking us."

Beckett wasn't sure what to say. "Perhaps he didn't want to worry you."

The scientist muttered something in Czech, then released a small sigh. "When he is well enough, let me know, so I can yell at him for that foolishness. It was not as though I did not drag him across a swamp."

"Don't worry. He'll thank you when he's awake," Beckett smiled. That was one thing that always impressed him about Sheppard: the man never failed to express his gratitude to those who deserved it. "Back to sleep with you then." Beckett gently steered the man toward the bed.

"Sleep. I wish." Zelenka eased himself very carefully under the covers, suppressing a hiss of pain at his pulled muscles. However, that didn't stop him from scratching at himself again. "Now I know why the major was so irritable. I should not have yelled at him. The itch is infuriating."

"I'm sorry we can't you give you another prednisone shot, at least not for a few more hours." Beckett felt bad. He knew how much Zelenka detested needles, but suggested anyway. "I could give you something to help you sleep."

Zelenka's brow furrowed. "A pill?"

"An injection would work better," replied Beckett almost apologetically.

The scientist cringed, but held out both arms. "Take your pick."

PART 53

Sergeant Carstairs flipped the dog-eared page, chortling quietly to himself as read the continuation of the long-winded paragraph. He couldn't believe that anybody actually wrote this garbage, let alone paid good money for it, but the awful paperback was in its astounding eighth printing, if the inside cover page was correct.

A noise emanated from inside McKay's quarters. Carstairs stared at his watch. 2:10 a.m. Blast it.

The door swished open and there stood McKay. The man hadn't even changed clothes! He looked like shit, which meant he probably hadn't slept at all. Beckett should have just come by and jabbed a needle in the astrophysicist's butt and knocked him out. Carstairs sighed inwardly: he wouldn't be out the $20 he'd bet with Corporal Williams if McKay had just stayed put. He'd been sure McKay would last till 4:00 a.m. before trying to sneak out.

"I need to see Beckett now," McKay said sharply.

Lack of sleep did nothing for the man's manners either. "Why?" Carstairs hadn't changed his position, seated in a chair, one leg crossed over the other leg's knee.

"Because—" McKay's blue eyes hardened to a glacial blue when he realized the soldier wasn't giving his predicament the attention he felt it deserved. He snatched the paperback out of the soldier's hands like a hawk ripping its prey off the ground.

"What is this?" McKay turned the book over to gawk at the blurb on the well-worn backside. "Can Tyler, the randy Texas Ranger, ever conquer Missy, the nubile cowgirl— what the hell kind of trash is this?" He tossed the book back at Carstairs, who caught it expertly, thumbed to the page he'd been at, and marked it. He stood up.

"Someone's idea of a joke," replied Carstairs with a yawn. "It was used as packing in some of the crates." He coughed. "Again, why do you need to see Dr. Beckett? Are you ill?"

"No, but I cracked the file." Carstairs peered around the scientist and saw that yup, the man had a computer in his quarters. They should have removed it. No wonder the man had so complacently left his lab and workstation – he'd had a backup. "It's imperative that I talk to Beckett. Lives are at stake!"

And Carstairs knew which lives – Major Sheppard and Dr. Zelenka. But he also knew that both men were still doing fine, considering the hell they'd been through. Beckett's people funneled him information just in case this particular situation arose.

"Just don't stand there like some old Commodore 640," snapped McKay impatiently. "Get out of my way, or I'll do it for you."

The soldier towered over the Canadian by a good three inches, and had at least 20 additional pounds, all of which were solid muscle, so the scientist's theatrical threat was meaningless if not downright amusing.

Carstairs lazily tapped on his earpiece. "Dr. McKay would like to come down. He says he has vital information regarding the two patients." He noticed McKay's eyes narrow in contempt at the use of the impersonal term. He'd been just as worried as everybody else until the major and Zelenka came back, but he knew why McKay was so agitated. Somehow, and nobody could really explain, McKay and Sheppard had become fast friends. The scientist probably knew more about the major than anybody under Sheppard's command. Weird. "Yes, sir." Beckett's annoyed voice echoed loudly in his ear. "I'll let him know, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Well?" McKay was fuming at the delay.

"You can go if you agree to Dr. Beckett's terms."

"Anything. Fine! Let's go!" McKay negotiated his crutches around the sergeant's bulk.

"He agrees, doctor." Carstairs smiled. "Out."

The sergeant could have mentioned to McKay that if he'd just turned left, he'd be at a transporter, but apparently the scientist wasn't operating on all cylinders. Lack of sleep did more than melt down the man's tenuous manners. It made him forget the layout of the base.

PART 54

Beckett thanked the sergeant and the door shut behind the soldier. McKay instantly made a beeline for Sheppard and Zelenka and stood between the two beds, obviously torn up with worry.

McKay turned on his crutches. "Carson, you have to read that file I sent you – NOW."

"In a minute, Rodney. Just follow me over here," said Beckett calmly. "And don't bother either one of them."

"No, now," insisted McKay. "That file is a detailed log of how the last expedition member died; probably the one that the major called hologram-man. He found the cure but he died because of what the parasites did and Sheppard could be in the same situation."

Beckett arched a weary eyebrow as McKay's voice raised a pitch and sped up almost frenetically as he tried to impart an entire file's worth of information into 30 seconds of speech. If McKay had been a balloon, he'd have swelled up and popped rather dramatically. Sighing, Beckett grabbed McKay by an ear and pulled.

"Ow!" screeched McKay.

"Rodney, get over here." Beckett ordered and the scientist couldn't resist, not unless he wanted to lose that ear. McKay was steered toward a bed and sat down on it. Another sign that the man had overdone it. He had a walking cast and was using crutches.

"Rodney, we've run every conceivable test on both the major and Dr. Zelenka," Beckett said, raising his finger up sternly to silence McKay. "Both of them should recover just fine in due time." His voice softened measurably. "And yes, we discovered the side effect of the parasite infestation very early on, thanks to Dr. Zelenka's astute observations, and we're correcting it via I.V. solutions, as I recall mentioning earlier." He'd also read the file the moment Rodney had sent it down via the computer. He wouldn't pass up any additional information that might help. "I assume that's why you, er broke curfew?"

McKay didn't reply. His brain seemed to be processing the data, and at a slower rate, the second sign that he was far too long without proper rest.

Nurse Hennings suddenly appeared beside McKay, who nearly jumped off the bed as he hadn't noticed her advancing on him. She handed a syringe over to Beckett.

"What's that?" McKay eyed the item with both dread and disdain.

"Vitamin B shot. You've run yourself ragged since this all began. Don't even try to lie to me that you've been eating properly, what with you being glued to computers for hours on end." Hennings swabbed McKay's upper arm and Beckett jabbed him before he could lodge a protest. A moment later, another syringe found its target as well.

"And that one?" McKay rubbed at the two new sore spots.

"Sedative."

"WHAT!"

"Part of the conditions for coming here. Didn't Sergeant Carstairs tell you?" said Beckett innocently.

"NO!"

"Ach, wait. I didn't tell him." Beckett assumed a slightly guilty smile.

McKay's eyelids began droop. "I'm going to tell Elizabeth what you did. What kind of doctor are you?" he accused.

"The kind who obeys orders."

McKay gawked at him in hazy confusion. "Orders?" he slurred.

"Who do you think told me to sedate you if you persisted in this foolhardy endeavor?" said Beckett.

PART 55

Elizabeth had rolled over in bed, pushed aside her bedraggled hair, and rubbed at her weary eyes. She smacked one hand down on the tiny alarm that had been beeping away on the table next to her bed. She never used an alarm clock as her body's own internal alarm woke up her consistently and had done so for decades, but the past few days had been extremely trying.

She stared at the ceiling, watching the morning sun filter languidly into the room. She mused that how over the course of her career, she'd brokered agreements that could literally affect the lives of millions, yet had never felt as drained as she did now. She knew it was because the lives which had hung in the balance weren't just faceless statistics, but men she'd come to regard as friends, even as family.

She took a long hot shower, finished off with a short burst of cold water, lest she succumb to the hot water's lulling effects. After dressing, she checked in with Peter Grodin, who informed her of Rodney's late night 'jailbreak'. She decided to skip breakfast and go to the infirmary first, knowing that Beckett would probably limit visitations to everyone until the two men were better able to withstand all the well wishers and curiosity seekers.

In walking down a corridor, she noticed that people she passed seemed happier, or at least didn't look as serious as they had during the past few days. Word had spread fast. As she entered the infirmary, she noticed it still had the hand-written sign – Do Not Enter – Quarantine – still taped to the door.

"Elizabeth." Beckett greeted her. He just happened to be in that area of the infirmary when she'd entered. He looked much better than the day before, although some of the darkness under his eyes still remained, but the brightness was back in those blue eyes, and there was more of a bounce in his step.

"Carson," she smiled, then looked past him. "I see you let Lieutenant. Ford and Teyla out of quarantine."

"Aye, a couple hours ago," acknowledged Beckett with a grin. "The major's still unconscious, probably will be for a while but we're not worried as he's responding well to treatment. However, I thought that Dr. Zelenka could use some company, and the lieutenant and Teyla certainly needed it." He nodded in that direction, where both Teyla and Ford were standing on one side of Zelenka's bed, not far from Sheppard.

As Beckett continued talking, Elizabeth found herself gravitating to the major's bed first. She reached down and gently laid a hand on his uninjured arm. It felt good to have undeniable proof that he was still there. Somehow, just seeing him wasn't enough. He'd been cleaned up considerably since she'd seen him dragged through the gate like some war casualty, and the filthy bandages around his eyes had been replaced with new, sterile white ones. Worry still nibbled at her mind. Beckett had told her that it was the tissues around the eyes that were inflamed, and not the eye itself – and that preliminary examinations showed no damage. But still, she wouldn't be 100 certain of that diagnosis until she saw Sheppard seeing again.

She cocked her head slightly across the room, at the bed with the sleeping figure on it. "I'm surprised Rodney isn't awake."

"Oh, the sedative will wear off soon enough," replied Beckett happily.

"Sedative?"

"Yes, the one you said I should give him. I—"

"Carson, I wasn't serious."

Beckett frowned. "You sounded very serious last night, and besides, it was something I was entertaining anyway. Rodney's like a terrier with a bone when it comes to Ancient technology and when he came here at two a.m., I knew he was not going to get to sleep on his own."

"In that case, no harm done," said Elizabeth. He was probably right.

"However, when he wakes up, you tell him that." Beckett looked a bit uneasy. "He'll forgive you for this transgression much easier than he would me."

Elizabeth smiled. "Of course." She leaned down toward the bed, then quietly said, "It's good to have you back, John," before removing her hand.

A moment later, she joined tiny crowd around the scientist's bed. "Dr. Zelenka," she nodded. "How are you?"

"Dr. Weir," he smiled back. He frowned, then scratched at a rather large, nasty red patch on his arm. "I am better."

"You shouldn't be doing that," cautioned Beckett.

"Well, if your shots and salves would work," Zelenka complained, but only half-heartedly.

The poor Czech looked awful, Elizabeth thought. She'd had poison ivy a few times as a child but had never seen a case as bad as his. Worse, what she'd thought was just dirt smudged on his face turned out to be a series of rather nasty looking bruises. She wondered what had caused those contusions.

"I have seen this before in my travels," spoke up Teyla. "The itching should diminish within a few days."

"Days?" Zelenka looked inconsolable.

"Although as Dr. Beckett pointed out, yours is a bad case." Teyla looked apologetic at the announcement, then looked up briefly at Beckett. "We do have some herbal remedies on the mainland that would help relieve the itch. I could contact Halling."

Beckett seemed to consider the offer, but then studied the miserable scientist in the bed before him. "Sounds like a good idea." Teyla nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure you'll be fine in no time," said Elizabeth, studying the trio before her carefully. They'd all been through an arduous experience, especially Zelenka, but he seemed to be weathering his recovery well. Beckett had mentioned how concerned the scientist was for the major's well being on the previous evening. She knew that Sheppard gave a lot of himself for the base, and probably didn't realize just how much he meant to others.

"Dr. Zelenka was telling all about the cat." Ford sounded pretty exuberant.

"The animal that the major mentioned earlier?" asked Elizabeth.

Zelenka nodded, then continued to tell the tale of how the huge feline attacked them just as they approaching the gate, but before it could do any true damage, Sheppard, despite his temporary blindness, managed to shoot the animal, although his last shots went wild when the beast knocked him to the ground just as the force field repelled the beast.

"It sounds like the parasite is endemic in the wildlife," said Beckett somberly, "and somehow, the host animal has a way of protecting itself from the parasite's damaging effects, unlike humans."

"It does explain why the bullets came through the gate," said Elizabeth, remembering the initial shock of that incident.

"They did?" Zelenka looked both alarmed and puzzled.

"Yes, but no one was hurt, although the ceiling took a little bit of a beating," replied Elizabeth with a small grin.

"Well, I hate to be the one who ends this happy little discussion," interrupted Beckett, "but visiting hours are over. My patients need their rest."

Elizabeth knew it was useless to try to override Carson when it came to medical matters. As she turned, she checked in on the major one more time. He still unconscious, but a slight touch on his arm, if he was aware on some level, would reassure him his friends were watching out for him. She watched as Teyla spoke gently to him, then bowed, touching her head to his in the Athosian fashion, before departing. Ford seemed a little uncomfortable with all the emotion, just telling his commander to 'hang in there' and that they'd be back tomorrow.

PART 56

Sheppard drifted in and out of awareness, as though floating aimlessly on a gentle, ebbing tide. He caught snatches of the outside world… he was pretty sure that Teyla and Ford been around, and he'd heard Elizabeth's voice, soft, near his ear, and a gentle touch against his skin…

He'd heard McKay more than the others. Hard not to miss that insistent, oft times grating voice, so the scientist had to be close by.

Sheppard was oblivious as time passed, just happy that he was home and that Zelenka was safe. He knew that because he'd heard Beckett's soft brogue telling him that… heard Zelenka there, telling him how it was all over now and that he could rest. After a while, the droning buzz of voices drew him to consciousness. He moved an arm experimentally. Yup, an IV. Probably meant he had more wires and tubes stuck on and in him than he really cared to know about. A few seconds later he realized both arms had IVs running into them. That couldn't be very good. A sleepy feeling hovered over him which was both soothing and annoying as it made it hard to think, so he'd probably been given some sort of painkiller. It took him a moment to dig through scattered memories to realize he probably needed the stuff: ripping apart his arm and back with his own fingernails constituted something pretty painful.

He tried to settle back down into the fuzzy cotton feeling of unconsciousness, but he failed. With awareness came clarity as well as the oppressive knowledge of why he was trapped in an overwhelming black.

Shoving aside the sudden memories of the eye drops' agonizing burn, he forced himself to focus on the conversation that was taking place just several feet away from his bed.

"Rodney, you canna get poison ivy from touching someone with it unless they still have the oil on their skin," repeated Beckett in a vexed tone.

"But he's leaking!" countered the astrophysicist in horror. "Oozing."

"If I were contagious, then the major would be covered with it," argued Zelenka's firm voice. He sounded pretty good, actually, strong enough to verbally spar with McKay. "After all, I had my hands all over him."

Dead silence. Sheppard thought about just what the Czech had said. Zelenka really oughta rephrase that, before rumors got started.

"Dragging him all the way from the compound to the gate," elaborated Zelenka with a huff, one that was most likely directed at McKay's no doubt incredulous stare. He finished off with something muttered in Czech.

"What was that?" demanded McKay.

"Get a dictionary," taunted Zelenka.

"You insulted me!" McKay was pissed.

"Ha! You only wish."

"But I can't believe you couldn't even recognize poison ivy," shot back McKay, trying to deflect the topic.

"Leaves of three, let it be." Sheppard was surprised at how hoarse he sounded.

"Major! You're awake!" McKay nearly shouted.

"I'm not deaf," said Sheppard light-heartedly. Only blind.

There was no bone-crushing hug. McKay wasn't into demonstrable shows of affection, thank god. He knew something would hurt if anybody squeezed him like that. Instead, he felt a firm hand on his forearm.

"I was wondering when you'd join us," said Beckett.

"Hard to sleep with all the chit-chat," joked Sheppard, licking at dry lips. Stupid question, but… "How long?"

"Nearly16 hours since you returned to us," replied Beckett. He didn't sound worried, which was good.

"What did I miss?"

"Besides Zelenka oozing like the Creature from the Black Lagoon?" commented McKay acidly.

"The Creature didn't ooze," corrected Sheppard. "Unless they do a remake. Everything oozes in remakes. Gallons of ooze." Inanity was nice. Gave his brain time to kick back into gear.

"Well, he's oozing poison ivy sap or whatever." He heard McKay shift, then the man's hand pulled off his arm, which meant the scientist was probably crossing his arms defensively against his chest.

"How are you feeling, major?" asked Zelenka. He sounded further away than the others.

"Lot better than when we last talked," admitted Sheppard. "Thanks."

"You are welcome."

"Major." Beckett had supplanted McKay's position at the bedside. "Now that you're awake, I'd like to take another look under those bandages."

Sheppard dreaded that, but responded. "Okay."

"Rodney." Beckett was annoyed.

"What?" McKay sounding guileless.

"Sit."

"But…"

"You'll know soon enough, just sit," ordered Beckett.

"I… okay."

Sheppard heard the rustle of fabric and a body plopping down in a nearby chair. Maybe it was true. When people lost their sight, their other senses compensated for it. Short term. He prayed it was short term.

He heard a nurse or someone come up on the opposite side of the bed, then felt the bandages being carefully peeled off. He winced slightly at a sore spot on the side of his head. "You've got a few stitches in the side of your head from striking that counter," explained Beckett, "but fortunately the laceration, though deep, didn't cause any irreparable damage."

The bandages were now off. "There now. Looking much better, major, if I do say so myself," said Beckett confidently. "You were a bit of a wreck when you were brought in. The swelling has gone down, but it will probably be several days before that the discoloration completely disappears. Could you open your eyes?"

Sheppard realized that he didn't want to. The tension in the air was almost tangible. Everybody was worried. What if he was blind? He didn't know what he'd do if that was his fate.

God, he'd faced down Wraith, been just inches from a horrible death by their nasty hands. He could handle this.

He slowly opened his eyes.

"Major?" asked Beckett.

Sheppard stared for a long second. "Uh, it's … fuzzy." Not 20/20. Damn, he hoped this didn't mean glasses. Could they even make glasses on Atlantis?

"Don't worry, it's the ointment we put in your eyes to help reduce the inflammation that's causing the blurring." Beckett swam into his vision, very close, with that optho-whatever scope doctors always stuck right up to your face. The light in his eyes felt sharp, but the sensation vanished when Beckett pulled away. "You're looking very good, major." Beckett was back at a respectable distance, smiling happily. If Carson was happy… he heard McKay heave a welcome sigh of relief, but then the agitated scientist's face popped into his field of vision. "Wait. Beckett, what are those red spots on his eyes? I thought you said the parasite was gone?"

"Tiny spot hemorrhages in the sclera that, yes, were caused by the parasites as some…" Beckett cringed a little. "…did get into the eye's surface, but they'll vanish in time and have caused no damage."

"Are you sure?" demanded McKay. Yeah, let him grill Carson. Sheppard wanted to go back to sleep.

"Yes, Rodney. I can give you all the technical jargon but that is not your area of expertise," Beckett said in exasperation. McKay glared at him. "Do I need to stab you again?"

Stab? Sheppard watched as McKay's eyes widened appreciably. He looked … worried? This was interesting. McKay got that look on his face, the one he got when he had to back down, and that wasn't very often. It was actually good to see that – to see anything.

"Hey, McKay," said Sheppard, trying to fight off his sleepiness. "You know, I've always wanted to say this."

McKay studied him hesitantly. "What?"

"You're a sight for sore eyes."

PART 57

"Thank you, Anna." Beckett smiled at the petite redhead as she went back to her duties in another section of the infirmary. He studiously checked the paperwork, nodding in satisfaction at what he read. Major Sheppard's potassium levels were back to normal, there were no signs of any infection, which meant that the IVs could soon be removed and when the major awoke, he could be put on an oral regimen of antibiotics.

Visitors had come and gone during the day as word had spread rapidly through the base that the men were back. Beckett hadn't been surprised at the volume of traffic, which is why he had to impose visiting hours. Now it was night, he'd cut off visitors so both men could get rest and that had to include McKay, at least for the nighttime hours. McKay had had bad timing all around; whenever he was able to stop by, Sheppard was either sound asleep or being tended to by Beckett's personnel, or Zelenka was off soaking himself to into a giant prune in a tub of cool water. Yet that didn't stop McKay from just pulling up a chair and working on his laptop as he sat next to Sheppard when the chance arose, until he was called away to handle something on the base that no one else seemed capable of fixing.

Beckett glanced over at the two beds. Sheppard was asleep, and Zelenka… He checked his watch. Hmm, he'd have to send a nurse in to pry the Czech out of the tub. The only thing that seemed to get him out of there was either a laptop or catching up on sleep, but his itching was made a lot more bearable as the herbs Teyla had brought back from the mainland did help dry out the vesicles and reduce the itch.

He studied the small table now situated in between the two beds. Several large flowerpots were situated on top of that table. Purple and yellow petals sprouted from the plants that were, really, well, quite lovely. Zelenka had regarded the plants with a wary eye when Ford and Teyla brought them on their last visit, but Teyla assured the scientist that the plants were entirely non-toxic. Ford added that the plants were on loan from Botany and had to be returned in a few days, but they wanted to send something up. Teyla's culture didn't have the custom of bringing flowers to hospitalized people, but she felt the gesture was nice nevertheless.

Of course, that table was where McKay had put his chair not long ago.

McKay wouldn't be happy with the new furniture arrangement, but so be it.

Beckett turned his attention back to the laptop, checking on a few files before he turned in for the night.

The Ancient file that Rodney had decrypted and sent to him had been vastly disturbing, on many levels. He could see why McKay had been so agitated. The last surviving expedition member had managed to survive being killed by another team members, then found the cure to the parasites, but too late realized the insidious side effect from the parasites' habitation. The man's symptoms – cramps, weakness, paresthesias, heart arrhythmia – had all been chillingly replicated in Major Sheppard. Remarkably, it had been Zelenka's small gesture of kindness that had saved the major from the parasites' destructive nature, but had also ironically sent the major into a downward and nearly lethal spiral.

Beckett had studied the file very carefully, several times over, but fortunately couldn't glean any new information that would cause him worry. He'd known all about the undetectable – by Earth standards at least – devices that had attacked members of the SG-1 team, and had worried about that for a while, but the 'parasite detector,' as Zelenka had later called it, ruled out infestation in either man.

As Beckett shut down his laptop, he hoped that another encounter such as this wouldn't occur again, but he knew it was only a matter of time. Their constant exploration of the Pegasus Galaxy put them at great risk every time they went through the gate.


NOTE: One more part left, and they're finally out of the woods... or are they ? ;)