A/N: Last chapter, here we go. I really hope you all like it. Sorry it took so long, but the typing muse was taking a vacation. Thankfully today I forced her into submission. Thanks to Mel for all your help!

Enjoy!

-0-0-0-0-

Chapter 3: The evil afterwards.

Lt. Ford slept, but he slept badly. At first there was an uncomfortable itch inside his underwear. Not good. But then the itch started spreading all over his body. His body felt weird, as if hundreds of bugs were eating him alive. First he took off his clothes, and tried sleeping in the buff, but it didn't work; it only made it worse.

The itch was bad, not only he did he need to scratch everywhere, but it burned fiercely.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Rodney was in his lab, trying to get some work done. He was still angry about the hot sauce thing, and his mouth was still burning. John Sheppard was going to pay, this wasn't over. As he fussed over an Ancient object his stomach rumbled; not good.

Then stabbing pains shot out across it. Rodney dropped everything he was working on and ran to the bathroom. John Sheppard was going to die, with a spoon to his heart.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

John was sleeping cozily, nice and really comfortable, when there was a knock on the door. John opened his eyes, and tried to stand up, as he rid himself of the sleepiness. With the help of his crutches he made it to the door and opened it up; it was Peter Grodin. "Major Sheppard, Dr. Weir is requesting your presence in her office."

John frowned. "Okay… thanks. I'll be there in 10 minutes." John closed the door, then he proceeded to take a quick bath and make his way towards Elizabeth's office.

As he approached her office he tried to read her expression, but failed miserably. Once he arrived at the door, she said, without taking her eyes off the computer, "Sit down, John."

John stepped inside the office and sat on the chair facing Elizabeth's desk. Once seated, Elizabeth looked up at him and glared. John frowned, "What?"

Elizabeth breathed deeply, pushed her computer to the side and rested her elbows on the desk. "Would you care to explain to me why there are two members of this expedition in the infirmary?"

John pulled his most innocent face, "Was there an accident somewhere?"

Elizabeth put her arms down, "John, you have to stop behaving like a 5 year old."

"What did I do?"

John could have sworn that if looks could kill, Elizabeth's would've been choking him. But then she continued, trying to keep calm. "Let's see… Lt. Ford can't stop scratching and then there's Rodney McKay, who can't be more than 5 feet away from a bathroom."

John wanted to smirk, but he couldn't do it, not in front of Elizabeth. It would sign his death certificate. He tried to remain as innocent-looking as possible, "Does Carson knows what's wrong with them?"

Elizabeth nodded, "Yes, it's the Sheppard sickness."

John didn't expect that, at least not so soon. "What!"

Elizabeth's expression remained neutral. "John, I talked to Stella Roig. Don't pretend you don't know anything."

John cringed, Stella the traitor. But Elizabeth continued, "And before you go and make her hair turn orange or put some salt in her coffee, I knew before talking to her. I feel I must tell you, she put up quite a fight."

John was at a loss of words, "How do you…"

Elizabeth smirked, "Don't use the same technique twice. She had already used the itching powder on Kavanagh. He even complained that time, only then, I decided to ignore it."

John crossed his arms over his chest defensively, "They deserved it!"

Elizabeth stood up and moved towards John, "No, John! I'm not saying that what they did was right. I wouldn't have minded a change of hair color, or if it only was hot sauce on the ketchup bottle. But what you did was mean, and to be honest don't expect me to intervene if they decide to retaliate. I'll just make sure you don't kill each other. Now, please go to the infirmary and tell Carson exactly what you did, so he can treat them."

That was the end of the conversation, no point in arguing. John knew that Elizabeth was going to be mad at him for a while, so it was better to back out and do what she said. He stood up and walked out with the help of his crutches.

Quietly he made his way towards the infirmary. Once he walked in, Carson's glare shot daggers at him. "In my office! NOW!"

John made his way towards Carson's office and while he walked through the infirmary he passed by Ford, who was trying to scratch a spot in his back with the IV pole. Ford was getting a bit desperate, but then John stumbled unto Rodney.

Rodney looked ready to kill. "You!" Rodney wagged his finger in John's face. But then, his face changed from a glare into a pained expression and he let out a groan, "You! I hate you!" And with those words, Rodney ran towards the bathroom.

John couldn't resist the urge to smirk, as he walked into Carson's office. He waited, and seconds later Carson walked in; he was so angry he could barely contain his rage. Without waiting too much, John looked Carson in the eye, and told him what he had done.

After that, Ford was able to get the itching under control, and Rodney had to stay overnight in the infirmary, as Carson feared that he might dehydrate.

John knew the fight wasn't over, but the days passed by and John didn't hear even as much as a peep from Rodney and Ford. Rodney was giving him the silent treatment, and Ford just fulfilled his duties as 2IC. Things continued like this for a while, and then one week later John had the cast removed. Now he was starting to worry that they had been waiting for him to fully recover before retaliating.

Finally, one morning after breakfast, he was heading towards his room, to pick up some things and go to a debriefing of their next mission.

When he opened the door, he knew that retaliation time had started as he slipped and almost fell on his butt. When John looked at the floor, there was cooking oil over the entrance. Retaliation… John was accepting it, and maybe this thing would be over. He made a mental note to send someone to clean it up. So he picked up a notebook, but before leaving he made a stop into the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom, standing in front of the toilet, John knew this was war. The thing had escalated into full war in seconds, because someone and he had a pretty good idea of whom; had placed clear saran wrap on his toilet bowl.

-0-0-0-

A/N: I know I left it sort of open for more. But this is the end, though, I'm willing to do an epilogue, but only if you people want it. Because I would need some ideas, brain is currently just goo.