AN: Some of you are scary perceptive! Here's a double treat for today, call it guilt from leaving you all hanging on those cliffs lately...

About a Baby…part 5

The touch grounded him, and Sheppard looked upwards to Ronon, the strong emotion temporarily bottled while he shared that moment of quiet realization, knowing that this is what they'd been waiting for…and dreading. The agent, or agents, was making a move. It had to be.

He nodded abruptly, acknowledging the runner's promise. "Command center," Sheppard said. "From there, we can access more controls than anywhere else in the city."

"What are we waiting for?" Ronon said, and his tone was laced with the promise of violence.

A hard smile, and Sheppard took off in a run, he knew another accessway to the gateroom that didn't rely on transporters. Rodney and Lily would have to wait…it was time to get down to the dirty business of catching the vermin.

They made record time to the lower level door that led inwards to the gate, and would allow them access to the stairs, but it, like everything else, was shut down. John knew he should be thankful that the route here hadn't been hindered unexpectedly, but now what?

He scowled at the door, trying to think. When the nanovirus had caused the lockdown before, they'd needed haz-mat suits to move freely. If this was a result of a virus –

"You don't think -," he started to say, but then realized Ronon hadn't been there in the city when it had happened. Back then, it'd been Ford on his team. Slamming a fist against the metal wall, the same fist, and boy was it sore now, he was just pissed. Too many bad memories and emotions stuck in his head. "I've got to get in there!" he swore.

And if the agent had released the nanovirus into the air recycling system, they were running against time.

The Satedan pulled out his pistol, and stood ready for the fight. "You've got the gene, open the door."

John fought to control his frustration. "It's not that simple," he said. Running his hands along the wall by the door, he found the crack that ran along the panel, and holding a hand to mark it, he went to pull the knife from his belt.

When it wasn't there, he remembered he'd taken to leaving it off, because he was afraid that Lily would accidentally grab at it.

Knowing what he was after, Ronon slipped his knife out of the sheath strapped against his waist, and flipped it, offering the handle to John.

"Thanks." Sheppard didn't waste time, poking the sharp tip into the thin crack, and prying the panel free. Now to figure out how to short the door controls.

Last year, when Ford had been stuck in the hall with the other soldier, and the energy creature bearing down on them, McKay had talked Ford through the process…but what exactly had the directions been? Think, Sheppard – think!

"Take out the middle crystal," he muttered. "And then…cross against each other?" God, he couldn't remember, but it sounded familiar.

"Sheppard," Ronon pressed, looking around uneasily. "We're targets out here." There'd be two groups of people about - them and the bad guys.

"I know I know, hang on." Closing his eyes and saying a quick prayer that this wouldn't burn it out and make it unable to open regardless of what he did, John crossed the crystals. He said a quick prayer of relief that nothing had melted, exploded or generally disintegrated in his hands, and the very welcome sound of the door swishing open for him greeted his ears.

Exulted, he tossed the crystals to the side, handed Ronon back his knife and withdrew his nine mil. "Let's go," he said, gesturing for the runner to go through first, and move to the right.

They'd go up the stairs, each on a side, and make sure the area was secure.

As they walked, both men moved with precision, and stealth, the military training in both guiding their progress. John crested his side of the stairs, and spun his weapon on to the tech sitting nervously at the console.

The tech paled and lifted his hands tentatively saying, "Colonel Sheppard, Doctor Weir was hoping you'd be able to make it here."

"I bet she was," he said, looking to the side to see just where exactly was Elizabeth. There were only two techs in the main control room, and John could see Weir standing impatiently at her door, but it was sealed tight, and she couldn't get out. Thank goodness for clear glass office walls, he thought with some irony, and he reluctantly recalled how he'd punched a hole through one of those panes not long ago and brought the whole damn thing shattering to the floor in a million shards.

Kind of like their relationship as it stood. Irony wasn't always convenient.

John gestured for the tech to move back with the other. "Do you have a paper and pen?" he asked.

The tech shoved it towards him so fast that John worried the poor man pulled a muscle. John guessed the nine mil that kept pointing his way had something to do with it. "Relax," he drawled. "It's just precaution. In case you're the traitor, and if you are, then the end of this barrel will be the last thing you ever see."

Mockingly cheerful, he took the pen, noticing scribbled words from what must have been their attempts at communicating, including a 'find Colonel Sheppard how?' in the tech's sloppy handwriting on the paper. He found an empty space and wrote what happened before holding it up against the glass for Elizabeth to read.

She frowned at the words, before he saw her turn, and lift her own pad and pen, and scribbled something quickly before holding it against the glass.

I was working in here and the city went into lockdown. You tell me what happened.

Scribbling furiously, he finished and held his paper again. If I knew that, I wouldn't have asked you! He resisted the urge to write something else that could be considered rude, and possibly insubordinate.

The dirty look she shot him said enough. She wrote three words and held it up, and he could tell she was fairly radiating anger. Get Me Out!

"Oh, sure, I'll just close my eyes, blink twice and say 'Yes, Master'," he bitched. At least he understood where she was coming from. In her position, he'd be pretty pissed also.

John wondered if maybe he ought to shatter the glass again, but discarded the idea. She wasn't any help in a military issue, and at least if she was in there, he knew she was safe.

Despite the glass separating them, she seemed to get the gist of what he said, and where his thoughts were drifting. She didn't look very happy with him. Whatever, he had a job to do, and getting her out was part of that job – but he'd wait before breaking the glass panel. Where was McKay when you needed him?

The one tech that had given him the paper and pen shifted in his chair, trying to scratch an itch he had on his back, but Ronon's slow lift of the wicked pistol that could blast a hole through a body caused him to lower his hands slowly.

"Get the city out of lockdown," John ordered.

"If it were that easy, don't you think I would've done it?" the young tech answered nervously, but there was a hint of anger at being the target of so much distrust.

"For all we know, you're behind it," Sheppard pointed out reasonably. "Now what is it going to take to end it?"

The tech hesitated, but Ronon caressed the butt of his weapon, and the now visibly sweating tech, got up and came back to the panel. He started pushing buttons, trying different combinations, but he was shaking his head negatively even as he worked.

"It's no good!" he swore, frustrated. "I need someone like Doctor McKay or Zelenka, with more knowledge of the system than what I have."

John stared at him, but he wasn't really looking at the tech. Someone had initiated the lockdown, and if it wasn't the techs in the gateroom, who was it, and how many places were there where you could do it…that is assuming the person hadn't released the nanovirus in the air. But if the agent had done that, they would have been exposed anyway, along with everyone else, short of them wearing a haz-mat suit, and in the middle of the day, there wasn't a way to get one without being incredibly conspicuous.

"McKay can fix this?" he asked the tech. He believed him, but John wanted to make sure, before he went off running. There wasn't the chance that Rodney was the agent, right?

The thought made him queasy, and he couldn't believe that the suspicion would even clear his mind, but that's what he was being reduced to, doubting everyone.

Hell, he'd doubted Elizabeth, and truth be told, he was still leery of her, because she was up to something. He didn't know what, but he'd find out. He didn't seriously consider her as the agent, because anyone being that obvious about sneaking around wouldn't last a day, but she was up to something.

But first, the tech had nodded. "And Zelenka," he added.

"Ronon, watch the techs, I'm going after Rodney," John ordered, coming to a decision. He still wasn't convinced of the techs innocence. Elizabeth was a sitting duck, and though John knew he'd been targeted, he had to accept that any of the top leaders of the city were also at risk.

The runner didn't look happy. "Is this one of those times I can disregard your order?"

Sheppard didn't even want to know what that was about. "No," he said tightly. "It's not."

"Okay," Dex said.

He needed to order about a hundred more men like Ronon. "I'll be in touch. Keep him working," he added, pointing at the still pale man. He tried to ignore the gleam in Ronon's eye.

Rodney's lab was accessible without using a transporter, but he'd have to deal with a few doors. Hopefully the crystal trick would get him through where he needed to go.

He made it through the first door easily. The same manipulation worked, and he tucked the knife in his waistband. He'd almost ran off without it, but Ronon tossed it to him before he'd gone five steps.

John knew he needed to focus, or he was going to make stupid mistakes. The thought that this might end with the guilty in his hands practically made his hands sweat and his heart pound out of his chest. He wanted it so bad, he could taste it. He ached with it. For Lily. For Rodney, because even though this level of trickery with the city was in his realm of capabilities, John knew that McKay wasn't capable of that kind of betrayal. Hell, Rodney couldn't even lie to Carson about how many cups of coffee he drank in a day.

Everyone knew you fudged on those types of things. Otherwise you got lectures, and found your coffee cups mysteriously disappearing.

Just as he was prying off the second panel, the door slid open, and Sheppard dropped the knife in shock. "God damn it!" he snarled, as the knife pierced the leather toe on his boot.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Sheppard was bent over, trying to pry the blade free, because it'd gone all the way through the boot and well into his foot. Deciding one fast pull was the way to go about it, he yanked, hard, and fighting down the scream, he realized who had spoken – or more like snarled, snapped and generally acted like he was at fault for the gaping hole in his foot.

"Rodney," he seethed. "You made me stab myself!"

"If you were in the command center, like you're supposed to be -" Rodney grouched, but he was already trying to ease John to the floor, and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. "Take your boot off."

But Sheppard wasn't cooperating, he pushed Rodney away, and forced himself to put weight on the throbbing foot. "We don't have time for this, Rodney. This is it," he caught McKay's worried look, "the agent's making their move, and we need to catch them, now. End this, before anyone else has to die."

"That's what I was trying to do." Rodney held the handkerchief for a moment, trying to decide whether to let John go as is, or force the issue. His forehead wrinkled, and he stuffed it back in his pocket, apparently deciding to let it go. "I figured you'd head for the gateroom, so I was on my way there – what took me so long, was pinpointing the source of the lockdown. It came from the infirmary."

"The infirmary?"

"I know, that's what I thought, and, get this," he was exuding excitement, "It was supposedly a virus causing the quarantine lockdown."

John narrowed his eyes, and it wasn't all from the fact that he felt blood squishing up between his toes. "Supposedly?"

"Imagine an alarm system, your standard run of the mill personal security home system – if you trigger the window, or door, it sets off the alarm, right?"

Sheppard nodded, and forced another step. There was enough blood in his boot now that he felt like he was walking in a puddle.

"For each trigger, there is a code that the monitoring system interprets. You can input that code to test the system, also, kind of a reverse trigger – someone inputted the code for the quarantine, from the infirmary, to simulate the conditions and initiate the lockdown."

"So there's no virus," because John really wanted to be clear on that.

"No virus, but, I think they might have caught themselves in the infirmary," Rodney added, moving faster ahead down the corridor. "Unlike a home security system, the Ancients didn't program in a thirty second delay so you could have time to turn off the alarm- or in this case, escape."

John stopped walking. "Then we need to go to the infirmary."

"Not without back-up," Rodney replied. "Colonel – John," he looked flustered, "We know what this person is capable of. We both know the poison gas leak was intentional, and the two suspects high on the list are trained military soldiers, and while I accept that you could probably hold your own, or, close, I'd be hard pressed not to shoot you by mistake!"

Shaking his head, John wasn't accepting it. "Rodney, even as we argue, this person is working to escape. We can't let them get away. We need to go now."

He could tell McKay desperately wanted to argue with him about the sanity of what they were about to do. John got that. It was dangerous. But letting the agent get away was even more dangerous. He saw the resolve tighten around McKay's mouth, and the scientist held out a hand. "Give me your extra pistol. I know it's there, you always carry an extra."

Despite the gravity of the situation, John couldn't help but smile. He reached down to his ankle, and withdrew the small Smith and Wesson he kept available. He handed it to Rodney, pointing at the safety. "Don't take it off until we're near the infirmary."

"What is this? A pop gun? You can't be serious, this wouldn't kill a duck."

"It'll kill a lot more than a duck. It's not so much the gun that matters, as the bullets, Rodney."

John had already started towards the infirmary, and Rodney was reluctantly following, still looking at the gun with skepticism. "No, I think it's as much the gun as the bullets," he asserted. "But, all the same, I'll try not to hit you, just in case, because you're a lot more than a duck."

"That's comforting."

"What?"

John sighed. His foot was hot and blood slicked, and it hurt like a sonofabitch. "That you think of me as more than a duck." And there was a line he'd never thought he'd say.

"Don't be comforted. It's just this thing I have with ducks. They're scary. Did you know I was almost stampeded by a gaggle of geese when I was a kid?"

Rodney was holding the weapon stiffly, and tagging close on John's heels. Very close, and John knew if he stopped, McKay would bump into him. He also knew that Rodney was starting to babble because he was nervous. Yet, stampeded by geese? "You have issues – geese?"

McKay shrugged, the hand with the gun not moving as high as the other. "I had bread. They wanted bread. Believe me," he chuckled harshly, "I let them have the bread."

John would've liked to have gone on with the completely off-the wall conversation to keep Rodney calm, but they'd arrived outside the infirmary corridor. Once they approached the door, they were visible, because the doors were similar to Elizabeth's, except the frosted caduceus in the middle. It'd be damn hard to hide their approach.

He stopped, and sure enough, Rodney ran into his back. John didn't roll his eyes, because it was reassuringly typical. "Can you do this?"

"You ask me this now?" Rodney blustered, having stepped back a foot.

Now he did roll his eyes. "Get the doors open as fast as you can, stay to the side," John ordered. He waved the pistol for Rodney to go, then followed closely behind.

As McKay worked on the panel, and pulled it free, John tried to surreptitiously view through the door without being seen. He could make out two dark figures standing apart, but he could hear only muted murmurs and nothing else.

"Someone's there, all right," he announced to Rodney. "And seeing how Beckett wear's a white coat, I don't think the two dark shapes are him or another doctor."

Rodney kept working. He pulled out a clear crystal, examined it, decided it was the wrong one, and plugged it back in, before removing another. "Why they had to go and make this a different design -" he bitched.

Even as he complained, he slid another crystal in place, and the doors slid open. John was instantly tense, and moved in, his gun aimed at the figures before the doors had finished opening.

"Hands up where I can see them!" he shouted.

The two figures turned towards him, and John was startled to realize Vasquez was holding a gun on Alicia, who was dressed in off-world gear. Then he remembered what Teyla had said about her training to join missions.

Vasquez. It couldn't be that easy, could it? "Drop it, Vasquez. There's no other ending to this that leaves you alive if you don't."

The marine was pissed, but also sweating nervously. "Sir, you don't understand!" She started to move a hand to her jacket, the gun hand remaining steady. "I know who the trai -"

The pop of a gun, and Vasquez stared uncomprehendingly at John, even as she collapsed to the ground, blood spraying from a gunshot wound to the head.

What the fuck? Sheppard spun around, and saw Rodney looking at the body in shock, and further behind him, Major Lorne, pistol drawn, and face composed. "She was going to shoot you, Sir."

"She was trying to tell me something, you stupid son of a bitch!" Sheppard ran at Lorne, and thrust him angrily against the wall. Lorne let his gun drop, and shook his head, his composure not even suffering from a blink.

"Colonel, think about it. She's an agent. Do you think she was gonna tell the truth? She was buying time while she went for another weapon, and then she would've shot you, and gotten away."

Rodney was coming out of his stupor. "I was here," he said, offended by the insinuation that he would've been incapable of helping. He held up the tiny gun. "I was ready!"

John released Lorne, but the threatening stance remained. He cast a quick glance to McKay. "You left the safety on."

"God damn it, why don't they make these things more like computers!" Rodney swore. "If I point and click, boom…why even have a safety? If I'm pulling the trigger, I want the thing to shoot! Have you ever seen a safety on a mouse? Do you know how much research I've lost over the years because there's no safety on a mouse?"

John strode over, handed Rodney his nine mil, and directed his hand till it was pointing at Lorne. "Watch him. If he moves, shoot."

Not liking it, because Lorne had been there for them before, McKay kept his hand up anyway.

Alicia was still standing frozen to the spot, not sure how to react, and Vasquez, she was bleeding all over the floor like a stuck pig. John jogged to her side, and knelt down, even while waving at Alicia to get over there. Rewarded by breath sounds, Sheppard needed Vasquez alive. "Save her!" he gestured to the nurse. "Where's Beckett?"

The nurse's eyes traced down to a slumped body that was behind a gurney, and John's eyes widened. He got up and ran over, kneeling now beside the CMO that had done so much for him, and thinking back to their last encounter. It hadn't been nice.

Beckett was alive, but the head wound was reopened and bleeding, badly. John closed his eyes, and rocked back on his haunches, and thanked whoever existed up above. "He's unconscious, but alive. Who's the doctor on call?"

"We need to turn off the lockdown," Rodney called. "Whoever it is won't matter if they can't get here."

Only one nurse and one man capable of interfacing into the system and shutting the lockdown off, and one soldier to watch Lorne. John thought for a moment, before coming to a decision. Beckett meant more than answers. He waved at Alicia. "Help Beckett, McKay, work on the lockdown." He got to his feet, and strode over to Rodney, taking the gun and relieving him so he could work.

Everyone headed off to handle their chores, while Lorne folded his arms and regarded Sheppard unapologetically. "I wasn't going to let her kill you, Colonel."

"That wasn't for you to decide, and besides, how did you get here when everyone else is stuck behind doors?"

Lorne answered coolly, "The same way you did, Sir."

"Look, Major, this isn't personal, but you shot someone just as she was going to tell me who the traitor was, and you conveniently show up at the right moment, while the city is in lockdown – wouldn't you be suspicious?" Sheppard argued.

"Are you forgetting who she was pointing a gun at? You think she was trying to get the nurse to play doctor?"

Good point. Why had Vasquez been pointing a gun at Alicia?

"What was she doing?" John called, knowing the nurse was listening even as she pressed a bandage to Beckett's wound.

"I don't know," Alicia answered honestly. "I came in to get my pack, I'd forgotten to take it with me and we were going off-world for a short training exercise, and I found her leaning over Doctor Beckett. I saw the gun…" she paused, her voice cracking slightly.

"And," urged Sheppard. This wasn't the time for emotions.

"When she saw me, she fixed the gun on me, and demanded I get Carson's files on the retrovirus. I didn't want to," she looked pleadingly at John for a moment, as if trying to explain why she had cooperated, "but she shot the wall next to my head and told me the next time she wouldn't miss. I didn't know what to do, so I started getting the information. While I was in there, she did something, and put the city in lockdown. She told me nobody could help me now."

The sudden cessation of alarms left a silence that was almost unnerving. He'd gotten used to the wailing, and hadn't even realized it.

Rodney approached, smiling smugly. "Lockdown is ended. No nanovirus detected, so, it was like I said, she inputted the code to simulate a situation."

"Good," breathed Sheppard. That was something, at any rate. Holding his second in command at gunpoint, the chief medical officer and good friend bleeding out on the floor, along with the possible connection to the guilty parties behind the bombs and everything else, dying a few feet away, he could only cling to what hadn't happened. "Get Elizabeth on the radio, and tell her we need a security team and extra medical personnel, ASAP."

McKay nodded, and headed off to do it. John's gun never wavered from Lorne.

OoO

"I can't believe the lass beaned me," grouched Beckett.

For a change, Sheppard was the one sitting by the bed. He was in the chair next to Carson's bed, Rodney and Ronon near, while Elizabeth and Teyla were on his other side. Lily was in Rodney's arms now. She'd been with Teyla during the incident, and thankfully none the wiser of what had gone down.

John jerked his head at the gauze. "She got you good, too."

"Aye, my pounding head won't let me forget."

Elizabeth affectionately patted Carson's shoulder. "Doctor Biro says you'll be up and about in no time, if you rest when you should."

"Besides, Sheppard's foot required more stitches than your head," Ronon offered, trying to be sympathetic, but all that did was cause the color to drain from Carson's face.

"Stitches in his foot?" Beckett asked worriedly, transferring his attention to John.

Hence, the reason why John was the only one sitting, but he shrugged off the worried look. "It was only five, a flesh wound."

"Colonel Sheppard stabbed himself with a knife during the rescue," Teyla explained, and she was enjoying it far too much.

"Rodney startled me, and I can't help it if Ronon keeps his knife sharper than -"

"I didn't startle you!" interrupted McKay. Lily fussed, and ended up swiping Rodney in the jaw when she flung back a fist in her irritable sleep. "Besides, even if I did surprise you, and I'm not saying I did, but aren't you supposed to be able to handle those things without dropping your weapons and maiming yourself?" Rodney carefully eased the baby's arm back into the blankets and bounced her into peacefulness again.

Alicia wandered over, and reminded them "Doctor Beckett needs his rest, doctor's orders," before angling towards the other occupied bed.

Vasquez. She hadn't died, but she was in critical condition, with a bullet lodged in her brain, and enough gray matter displaced that the outlook didn't bode well for her.

"Teyla, Ronon, could I see you for a minute?" Elizabeth called. "John, you and Rodney get some rest, and stay off that foot, I need you back to full strength."

Even while John was getting irritable over the sneaking behavior, again, she had to go and throw out concern for him. He didn't think the thing with Ronon and Teyla was nefarious, but it was beginning to seriously grate on his nerves, and casting a look at Ronon, he mentally promised to get to the bottom of it.

Ronon lifted a casual hand, and followed after Teyla and Elizabeth.

That left Rodney and John alone with Beckett, and Carson was looking too intently at him for Sheppard's comfort. He stood up, and reached for the crutches Biro had insisted he use for at least a few days, to give the stitches time to take. Depending on how fast it healed, was how fast he'd get rid of the annoying things.

"Take care, Doc," John said.

He knew that if Carson's head hadn't been hurting so much, he would've pressed Sheppard more about the injury, but as it was, Beckett would have to trust in the other doctor's care and heal himself first, before getting back into healing others.

Rodney nodded towards Carson. "We'll be back later," he added. "Biro wants to check Sheppard's stitches and make sure the wound is staying closed. It was to the bone."

Even as they left, Beckett was opening his mouth to call after them, because of that last tidbit Rodney had given. Once they'd cleared the doors and were in the hall, Sheppard hissed at Rodney. "Did you have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Tell him it went to the bone, god, Rodney, it's not like the man doesn't hover enough!" exclaimed Sheppard, grunting from trying to move on crutches. "How the hell did you do this and help me through labor!" he finally snapped. Trying to walk with these was wearing him out worse than a hard run.

"It wasn't easy," retorted Rodney, "but I made a promise."

Sheppard sighed. He was tired. Biro had said he'd lost a little more blood than she felt comfortable with, because the wound had gone untreated for hours, and combined with the blood pressure medication, his blood hadn't clotted like it should – "You got Lily? I need to go talk to Lorne." He didn't say interrogate. He wasn't there yet.

Lorne was cooling his heels in the brig, though. Too many coincidences, and despite Alicia's claim that Vasquez had knocked Beckett out and demanded the files on the retrovirus, it didn't make sense. They'd already gotten into Beckett's files, so what else would they need, and further, what had Vasquez been about to say? Not to mention that Lorne himself had brought Vasquez into their confidence, and he and Vasquez were the others that knew about their meeting.

Hell, for all he knew, both of them were agents, working together, and he'd set her up to take a fall and throw suspicion off him.

"No, you're going to go to bed, Biro told me to make sure you did, and Ronon is bringing your very delayed lunch by." Rodney didn't give John a chance to argue, instead he pushed the spot on the map to take them to the level that had their living quarters on it.

John debated on reaching out and hitting the level for the brig, but he was exhausted. He hadn't been back in the swing of things long enough, and he hadn't gotten back to his same level of fitness yet.

"It's too bad Beckett didn't see who hit him," mused John, as he followed Rodney out the transporter.

"When is anything ever that simplistic?"

"Still," said John.

They arrived at their quarters, and the door slid open, the smells of baby, and dirty socks hitting him in the face. It felt like home, and he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to fall on his bed, and stay there for a long long time.

Rodney moved to the crib and settled the baby down. She'd woken up on the walk back, but was happy and smiling, content to bat at the mobile and look around her.

Then, he turned to John, and pointed to the bed. "Now," he said sternly. "Because I'm not carrying you when you fall on your face."

"I look that bad, huh?"

"Bad would be an improvement," Rodney said.

John dropped the crutches to the ground and started fumbling with the laces on his boots, but the pain medication was catching up to him, and his fingers didn't want to cooperate.

McKay sighed impatiently, before striding over and shoving his hand aside. "God, you're pitiful."

"And you're here with me, so what does that say about you?"

"That I'm a sucker for insufferable Air Force officer's."

John snorted. "Yeah, you do have a thing for Air Force, don't you?"

The conversation was drifting into uncomfortable territory, and if John hadn't been giddy from pain killers, he probably would've treaded more softly, but as it was, he was, and he touched McKay on the shoulder until Rodney looked him in the eye.

"You don't have to hide from me," he said thickly. "Never me."

McKay pushed his hand aside, and shoved him so he toppled on the mattress. "I'm not hiding," he retorted gruffly.

"Fine, running then," John countered, staring up at the ceiling.

A harsh chuckle and Sheppard felt his bed dip with Rodney's weight as the man sat by his legs, and he started propping up John's injured foot with a pillow. "Running, possibly. In fact, quite probably," he admitted. Once finished he stood up and looked down at John's flushed face and added softly, "But I'm not the only one."

Before John could reply, he walked away, and Sheppard heard the water running. By the time McKay got back with the glass, John had fallen into an exhausted drugged slumber…

TBC