"So, Rodney, are you ready to get up?"

Rodney reluctantly opened his eyes again. He stared up at Carson. "Do I have to?" he asked plaintively. "My head still hurts, and I think I might do serious damage if I get up and run around now."

Carson smiled. "It's all right, Rodney," he reassured him. "We'll look after you, make sure you're okay."

"Oh." Rodney sat up. "You promise?"

"Aye. Now, can you get dressed by yourself?"

"Of course I can! I'm not a baby!" Rodney threw back the covers and swung his legs over the end of the bed. He stood up, then hurriedly sat back down again. "Oh, this feels weird."

"Easy now," Carson warned him, helping him back to his feet. "Perhaps I'd better stick around and make sure you're okay."

A few moments later Rodney was dressed in unfamiliar clothes and marvelling at how odd it felt to be the same size as the adults around him. He looked at John, who smiled back at him. "Okay, Rodney?" the man asked cheerfully.

Rodney nodded. "I think so," he said. "Where are we going?"

"I thought I'd take you back to the lab, the one we were in when – when whatever happened did happen. Zelenka's there already, seeing if he can figure out anything."

"Zal – what?" Rodney asked, confused.

"Dr Zelenka. He's Czechoslovakian. He's a scientist. He works with you quite often – with our Dr McKay, that is. The grown-up you."

"Oh." Rodney thought it best not to enquire any further. He walked to the door with John, but hesitated. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"It's okay, Rodney, I'll take care of you," John assured him. "By the way, I never introduced myself. I'm Colonel John Sheppard."

"Colonel?" Rodney's eyes widened as he reassessed the man in front of him. Military? Yes, he could see it. He glanced down and saw the gun in the holster strapped to John's leg. John saw his glance and grinned.

"I wouldn't worry, Rodney," he said cheerfully. "I doubt we'll need that where we're going, but I always carry it just in case."

"In case of what?"

"Oh – just in case we need it," John evaded the question. "Let's go."

He indicated the way out of the infirmary. Rodney looked at Carson, who nodded. "Ye'll be fine with Colonel Sheppard," he reassured him.

Rodney nodded back a little uncertainly, then led the way into the corridor.

John walked beside him, indicating which turns to take. Rodney stared about him as he walked, fascinated by the strange sights he saw. The place appeared to be in a high tower, with windows looking out at other parts of the city from a great height. People bustled in and out of the rooms they passed. One or two raised a hand in greeting as they passed, and a couple tried to greet him as "Dr McKay," but John hurried him past, saying, "Sorry, Rodney's a little busy at the moment."

They went into a little cupboard that John assured him was a transport chamber, then came out of a similar cupboard which was apparently different from the first one. After a little more walking, Rodney realised he hadn't seen anyone else for a few minutes. Then John took him into a large room, and he saw a man wearing glasses bending down over a table that had some sort of controls set into it. There was another man there, wearing a gun in a holster, and a woman. Both looked rather scary, and Rodney decided to stay well away from them. He moved closer to John, and the latter turned and smiled at him, looking rather amused.

He introduced Rodney to the new people, who turned out to be Lieutenant Ford, Teyla and Dr Zelenka. "And this," said John, putting his hand on the table in front of Dr Zelenka, "is the machine that's caused all these problems."

Rodney stared at it in surprise. It looked ordinary. It looked like a cross between a very fancy computer terminal and an electric piano. He moved closer to it. "May I touch it?" he asked.

"I would not touch any of the controls," warned Zelenka. "We do not yet know what it does."

McKay looked at his desk. Spread out across its surface were papers pertaining to both his science projects. There was the one he had wanted to do, had done most of his work on, and there was the one his father had instructed him to do.

He thought back to the humiliating scene that had taken place all those years ago – or in fact just a few days ago. His father and his science teacher, united in their vocal claims that he was not to submit the project he had planned to submit, that it was totally unsuitable, and that his father would be delighted to work with him to produce a project they considered eminently better for him, and that would help him in his quest to become a medical doctor.

"But I don't want to be a medical doctor," he had cried desperately. His protests had been ignored, however, and he had been told in no uncertain terms that failure to submit the project as agreed between his teacher and his father would lead to him failing the course. And that could cause problems for any hope of a scientific career. He had returned to the course of insisting he wanted to make a career out of music, and his father had refused to speak to him for two days, before once again making it abundantly clear to him that he was to submit the project as agreed or he would be grounded for life and his music lessons cancelled.

"Well, I needn't have worried too much about that!" McKay muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Jeannie asked.

"What? Oh, nothing, don't worry about it," McKay answered. He continued staring down at the papers. Of course, he had to do as he was told. Not submitting would cause so many problems. On the other hand, he had submitted his own project, hadn't he? And things had gone better than he could have hoped for.

He remembered that strange feeling, when he had been unable to remember actually submitting the project or even completing it, and realised what he had to do. He sat down at the desk and began to write.