The problem was easy enough to fix. Radek had acted with supreme efficiency by the time McKay and Sheppard arrived, shutting down the various power containment fields. "But I don't know for how long," he said, his arms folded before him, "it may spike again, it may not."

"How much did we lose?"

"Two percent."

Rodney just nodded and studied the display before him.

"Any idea what's causing it?"

"No. There is no rhyme nor reason, just boop! – a spike then a part of the city shuts down."

Rodney's brows drew tight in disbelief as he slowly looked up. "I sorry. . .did you just say 'boop'?"

"Yes, just. . .boop" he popped his hand into the air, ". . .like that, see?"

"No, I don't see." He leaned forward, edging Zelenka out of the way. "But, for what it's worth, you did good work here. Look, uh – why don't you go get some sleep or something. I have no intention of being the only coherent person this side of the gate in the morning."

"Yes, Rodney." Zelenka gave Sheppard a knowing look. Sheppard was actually surprised to hear a compliment come from Rodney, and stared at him.

The other man finally straightened. His whole body rolled in exasperation, like giant eyes in someone's head. "Oh. . . what? I can feel you boring into my spine."

"Just impressed. You actually said Radek did something right."

"Radek quite frequently does things correctly. I just don't want him getting lazy and thinking I give a damn, cause I don't."

"Liar. You sent him to bed."

"Without supper." Rodney picked up a wrapped sandwich, most likely Zelenka's, and opened it. He took a huge bite, took a moment to taste, and nodded in appreciation. The sandwich was held out. "Want some?"

"No thanks," John replied pointedly, "I prefer my food not stolen."

"What do you think this is, Les Mis? Look," he rewrapped the sandwich and set it down, "I really am hungry, lets go eat while we still have fresh food."

"Rodney!"

"What now?"

John pointed. "You just took a bite of that man's sandwich, now you're leaving it for him?"

"Hm? Oh, right." Rodney picked it up again and chomped in as he circled around John and headed for the door.

He had finished his mini-meal by the time they reached the commissary. Each grabbed a plate, with John leading the way down the line. He stopped when he realized Rodney wasn't following. "Hey, this was your idea, come on!" Rodney just remained frozen to the spot, his expression one of mild disgust.

"Do - do you smell that?"

"This? Not great, but if you're really hungry. . ."

"You know what? I'm not." He slammed his tray down and hurried out.

If there was one thing McKay didn't do, it was leave food behind. Sheppard followed him, mildly concerned. "We can eat in my place. Or maybe we can go back to sleep?" Rodney was walking faster, forcing John to almost a jog to keep up. "Rodney?"

"I-that sandwich filled me up, I think. I've got work to do."

"Come on, one bite? Besides, you have sleep to do!" He raced forward and grabbed Rodney's arm. "Crisis averted for the moment, now let's go."

"No."

"McKay. . ."

"I said no, Major! Which part of no do you not understand?" He shouldered Sheppard aside. "I have work to do."

"No. . . you don't!"

"Major, might I remind you that with the pending threat, this would be a really, really, bad time to lose our power? Or maybe you have a sweet tooth and wouldn't mind becoming home-spun desert? Oh, I know, let's use what power we have left and hang a neon sign that says, 'free food for the taking'!"

"Will you calm down?"

"You calm down! We are losing power; slowly, yes, but we are losing it. There are hive ships coming. Now do you want me to fix it, or not?"

"One more hour isn't going to make a difference!"

"One more hour could make all the difference, Major!" Rodney spat. "Now if I had say, oh, the source of power that ran the pseudo Atlantis, we wouldn't be in this fix, now would we?"

The aggressiveness had come from left field, catching Sheppard off-guard. "But we don't, and that's not. . ."

"And who's fault is that, huh?" Rodney was right in his face, and Sheppard blinked in surprise. "Who's fault? Who was so eager to get out there that he couldn't stop to take the time to examine. . ."

"If I recall," John replied hotly, not backing down, "I was trying to save your life!"

"How noble of you! You do realize that your simple act of charity has sentenced this entire city to death?"

Sheppard was breathing heavily, biting back everything he wanted to say; every childish, cruel remark that wanted to surface. He could see the fatigue in Rodney's eyes, the lines etched along the corners of that wide mouth. The need to sleep radiated from him.

"Rodney," Sheppard forced his voice under control, "I am ordering you to return to your quarters. If you refuse my order, I will have Dr. Beckett confine you to the infirmary until you are rested enough to resume your duties. Is that clear?"

Rodney's eyes burned like poison. John had never seen the man so livid. He just knew a vessel would pop in his head and they would lose that brilliant mind forever. His own anger slowly ebbed, but he kept a stern face for Rodney's sake. The man finally yielded. "I get it. You think I'm of no use to you."

"I think you need to recharge your batteries like every good machine does."

"I'm too tired to take offense at that." Rodney had slumped, looking dejected, ill, and a hundred years older.

"I know."

"I'll just sleep in the lab, I can. . ."

"No. Bed. Now." Sheppard gently Rodney guided him down the hall.

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The sun had risen through clears skies to shine over calm waters. The city bathed underneath, proud and glistening. It buzzed with activity, the occasional jumper launching and flying a perimeter like a grey bird, surveying the area for predators before heading to the mainland. People appeared and vanished from her balconies, stationary figures gazed wistfully from the large windows. The crew that was on the night rotation had retired to bed, leaving the majority of the population to tend to their business as usual. Repairs and preparations, research, stock and food counts, trade agreements, weapons checks, recreational activities, things ran with the usual hiccups but no setbacks. Sheppard was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on the desk before him, studying the maintenance rotation and training schedule. It was six am. He hadn't slept.

A presence filled his doorway, and he could tell without looking up that it was Teyla, partly from the scent of her herbal soap, and partly because she was the only one who could so completely fill a room with her presence without stepping a foot inside. "Teyla. You're up early."

"I am always up at this hour, I just rarely leave my quarters, I am usually performing my morning exercises."

Her hair was wet, like she had just come from a shower, which explained the strong scent of soap. John let his papers fall into his lap, and threaded his fingers behind his head. "So what's interrupted your routine?"

"I. . .need to talk with you about an incident that has occurred. If I may?" She gestured to a seat near his. He removed his feet from the desk and sat up, nodded to her seat without saying anything.

She sat smoothly, and rubs her palms on the tops of her legs, waiting to speak. When she did, she leaned forward, her attention focused. "It is about Dr. McKay. I am worried about him."

"Why, what's happened?"

"He. . ." she seemed hesitant, "I do not wish to cause any trouble. . ."

"Did he do something?" John was sitting forward now.

"No, nothing at all. But he did knock on my door, and when I rose to answer, I heard a shout. I opened the door to find him staring down the hall, but I saw nothing. And when I tried to ask if there was a problem, he just apologized and said something about meeting you this morning."

"I take it no one was in the hall."

"No, no one was there. But he was afraid, Major, and he was trying to disguise it."

"Why did he come to your door?"

"That I do not know. But. . .he seemed surprised to see me."

John sat back slowly and sighed. "He was sleep walking before. Took some extra pills that Carson gave him, I think it messed him up. But that was, what, probably six hours ago?"

"I do not believe he was asleep, but I do not think he intended to come to me. Or perhaps it was not the shock of seeing me, but seeing anybody at all."

"Are you sure he was awake?"

"Quite certain."

"Okay." John inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. "Thanks for letting me know."

"I do not know what to do in this matter."

"Do nothing. I'm meeting Rodney in an hour, and if need be, I'll talk to Carson. But hey," he reached out for her as she stood, "do try and keep an eye on him, just don't let him know you're keeping an eye on him, you know."

"I will be discreet." She gave a shadow of a smile and a slow nod, and the door opened. She walked through, stately, and he followed her trail with hidden admiration.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Oh, Christ!" Rodney winced and rolled to his side, holding his shoulder. He pointedly ignored the man standing over him, he'd had enough.

"Come on, Rodney, you can do better than that! You're not even trying!"

Rodney caught his breath before speaking. "I see little use in subjecting myself to more torture just for your morbid entertainment, Major. Can I go now?"

"It's seven fifteen!"

"Exactly. And that's fourteen minutes longer than I wanted to be here, now do you mind?" He reached up a hand.

John pulled him up, holding on to his wrist until the man was stable on his feet. "Better?"

"No."

"Good. Again."

"What?"

"I said, do it again!" John took a defensive stance, waiting.

Rodney felt his breath leave him. "Major. . ."

"Attack me, McKay! Or have you forgotten how already?"

"I already told you, I don't remember doing that!"

"Just like you don't remember going to Teyla's room this morning?"

"No!" He looked genuinely confused. "Why would I go to Teyla's room?"

"You're lying."

Rodney gave his head a small shake, like he was hard of hearing. "What?"

"I said, you're lying! You are a liar, McKay!"

Pushing his buttons worked, especially when the man was fatigued. "Just where do you get off? You're calling me a liar?"

"Yes, I am! You do nothing but sit on your ass all day and think up excuses for people to come to you and tell you how good you are, or you think up reasons for people to show they care for you, because you can't muster up the strength to care for yourself!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your visits to the infirmary for a paper cut! I'm talking about your coughs and sneezes and peeling skin! The only reason you go to Carson is because you're afraid he won't pay you any attention otherwise! You aren't exactly a socialite, and I happen to know you didn't make nearly as many visits to the infirmary at the SGC!"

"That Janet person was sadistic. She. . ."

"You feel you have to put on a show so everyone can prove they care. You're lonely, McKay, admit it!"

Rodney pointed a finger angrily. "You are an asshole!"

"And you are a liar!" He shoved Rodney.

Rodney pushed back, then again, and again until he was throwing punches at John's chest. John blocked them easily, turning from one side to another until a lucky shot landed on his jaw. Another caught him in the gut and he went down, but not before locking his legs around Rodney's, bringing the scientist crashing down on him. God, the man was heavy. He pushed the body off him and pulled an arm back, but Rodney was faster. Some sort of survival instinct had kicked in, whether fuel by anger or adrenaline he wasn't sure, but he found himself flat on his back with a knee on his chest and a raised fist. John lifted his hand in surrender, and grunted, "Good move". Rodney pulled back, breathing heavily, and was suddenly on his back with Sheppard over him, one knee pinning his shoulder, his weight on Rodney's ribs.

"You let down your guard," Sheppard said.

"Yes, well, don't count on that happening again," Rodney gasped through clenched teeth. Sheppard waited for him to retaliate, but Rodney just lay there, closing his eyes. His face showed the edges of some inner battle he was waging.

John rose slowly, straightened his clothes, and watched the immobile man. "Hey." He prodded McKay's side with his boot, and caught a glimpse of annoyed blue between slits. "We still have forty minutes."

"I think I'll just lay here. You can jump and pounce and pin, because this is where I'll end up. I can save myself the trouble of unnecessary exertion."

"And how are you going to learn anything?"

"I have a gun, Major, and I know how to use it."

"Sounds like a threat."

"Good." Rodney sat up. "Can I go now?"

Sheppard glanced at his watch. Truth was, it was the longest session they'd had, considering the few times he had been able to drag Rodney down there. The man just couldn't stand pain, be it injury or burning muscles. "Sure. Why not. Be sure to smile at the Wraith that corners you, because I'm sure the extra adrenaline is like whipped cream."

"Gun, Major."

Yeah, and Sheppard remembered the last time Rodney was face to face with a Wraith, his gun his only line of defense. "Does the phrase, 'okay, now what' mean anything to you?"

Rodney crossed the room, peeling his sweaty shirt from his chest with two fingers. "I panicked."

"And when confronted with several Wraith bent on the destruction of the city and culling everyone in sight, you'll be mister calm and collected."

Rodney glared up at him from his towel. "Look, do you have a point?"

"The point is that you need to be prepared. We're training all the scientist and non military personnel, you aren't being singled out here. We are vastly outnumbered, and we are staying to fight. Do you honestly think the Wraith are not going to walk these halls? Come into this room? Hunt you down before you can use your brain to think of a way out of it? They don't respond to smarts, McKay, you can't con your way out. You have to fight." The intensity of his eyes drilled his point home.

Rodney actually laughed, turning to face the wall, his arms dropping as his shoulders sagged. "Oh, I see now. My meager punches will prevail over advanced weaponry every time. I"ll just bloody their noses, shall I? Tell the bullies to leave me the fuck alone?"

Sheppard shook his head. "What other choice do we have?"

Rodney sat on the bench. His head fell back against the wall. His towel hung limp from his leg. "I know."

There was something hidden in that submissive statement, and the scientist wasn't letting on. John sighed and flung his own worn towel to the floor, taking a seat beside his friend. "And. . . I think you should talk to Heightmeyer."

"Oh, god. . ." Rodney started to go, but John stopped him.

"You're not sleeping, and when you do manage to close your eyes, you're walking. You can't keep going like this. When's the last time you had a good night's sleep?"

"That's none of your business, Major." The iciness returned, and he pulled away from John. "Are we done here, or not?" His glare was frigid.

So he didn't want to talk. Fine. Sheppard let the coldness seep into his bones. "Yeah, McKay. We're done here."

"Finally." Rodney walked quickly back to his room, his whole face pulled down into anger.