A/N - This will be two chapters.

John swallowed a yawn and resisted the urge to rub his eyes. At the desk beside him, Rodney seemed to be at the opposite end of the spectrum, muttering to himself and frantically tapping away at his laptop.

"Rodney."

The muttering continued unhindered. John sighed, unsure if Rodney had heard him and had elected to ignore him, or if he was just completely lost in his own world.

"Rodney."

More muttering.

"McKay," John growled. This, at least, got through to Rodney, who flapped an impatient hand towards John's face and immediately returned to his keyboard.

John bit back what he wanted to say, which was that if Rodney got that hand any closer to his face, it was going to come off. He was just tired, he knew that. He'd been awake for the better part of two days, helping prepare Atlantis for the latest bizarre space weather anomaly - this time it had been a solar flare. Predictably, an absolutely unbelievable amount of things had gone wrong, from machinery malfunctions to widespread sunstroke to grounded jumpers. But the flare had passed, they were all still here, and all John wanted to do was get some sleep.

Still, he couldn't be half as tired as McKay. Rodney had been working around the clock for what seemed like weeks. John knew he'd been getting some kind of emergency stimulant from Carson for the past day or so, but he had to be about ready to drop by now.

"McKay, come on," John said around another yawn. "Bedtime. You did it. No one's dead and you can get some sleep. Remember sleep?"

"I'm busy," Rodney said impatiently, not looking up from his laptop.

"You can't possibly be busy," John replied, wincing slightly at the edge of a whine in his voice. "There's been a grand total of two minutes since the last crisis. Come on, Rodney, huh?"

John put a hand on Rodney's shoulder and pulled at him gently, hoping to coax him off the chair.

"We need to finish this," Rodney said urgently, suddenly turning to face John. His pupils were noticeably dilated, and he was bouncing gently in his chair. John sighed.

"We did finish it. Come on, you'll feel better after this super caffeine or whatever it is works its way out of your system. Okay, buddy?"

Rodney's shoulders slumped, and he nodded. Relieved, John patted him on the shoulder, then gave him a gentle shove towards the door.

Rodney trudged towards the entrance, the very picture of reluctant acceptance. John grinned slightly to himself, then frowned.

"Hey McKay, you forgot your laptop…."

John grabbed the laptop off the desk, then turned around just in time to see Rodney crouching by the door control, pulling out a large handful of crystals and smashing them on the floor. John stilled, laptop forgotten in his hands.

"McKay?" he asked calmly. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Locking the door," Rodney announced.

John sucked in a long, shuddering breath. He decided to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, no matter how...insane he sounded. Maybe there was a reason Rodney was locking the door, a reason that made sense. John just...couldn't seem to think of one.

"Why are you doing that?" John asked, fighting hard to keep his voice even.

"I need to...concentrate," Rodney said distractedly.

"On...what?"

Rodney flapped a hand agitatedly, dismissing John. He was still crouched on the ground, next to the remains of the mechanism that controlled the door.

John did some quick math in his head. Carson had allowed Rodney a dose of the stimulant every six hours, and he forced him to take a break for six hours after every three doses, to get a little sleep and give his body a chance to recover. He'd taken three doses in a row now, and the last one should have been right about six hours ago, just before the shields had abruptly shut down. At that point, Carson had offered John some of the super caffeine too, as it was clear John was just running on fumes. John had declined in favor of a short nap, and by the time he had had to talk a few of his men through an unexpected jumper crash, he had been feeling...maybe not refreshed, but something that was close enough.

Rodney's jittery energy had never waned, despite the fact that at this point, he should be well on his way to coming down. Was this some sort of strange withdrawal? Unless….

"Rodney?" John said slowly. He didn't want to scare him. If he had been willing to destroy the door, there was really no telling what he might do. "When was the last time you took a dose of that stuff from Carson?"

Rodney instantly froze to a degree that was almost eerie, especially considering the nervous energy that had been consuming him just seconds before. This was clearly not a question he wanted to be asked. He looked away from John, then stood up and started pacing.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sheppard. I haven't been getting anything from Carson. This is all...you've just never seen me work. Not really. This is all-"

John grabbed Rodney's shoulder, halting him in his tracks. "Less than six hours ago? Did you sneak a dose?"

Rodney shrugged slightly, still refusing to make eye contact with John, and that was all the answer John needed. This was going to be a long few hours.

Rodney really didn't know why John seemed so upset. He felt good. He was full of energy, and every single brain cell felt like it was operating at top capacity. It would be unfair to go to sleep, really. He wasn't sure that he'd ever felt so productive. Carson had wanted to cut him off from the best drug in the world for ridiculous reasons. Personal reasons. He was just jealous.

Rodney McKay was on the cusp of a great discovery, he was sure of it. If he went to sleep now, that would practically be a disservice to humanity. He owed it - to Atlantis, to Earth, and to himself - to solve this. He wasn't exactly sure what he needed to solve yet, but he knew there was something. There was always something.

"Rodney?" Sheppard's voice, drawn out and grating as usual, almost infuriatingly slow to Rodney's accelerated thought process. "Why is the door locked?"

"I told you," Rodney replied impatiently, resenting the Colonel's intrusion. "I need to solve something."

"McKay, open the fucking door." Sheppard was using his Military Commander of Atlantis voice now, the tone and expression that Rodney had seen set Marines trembling. Usually, Rodney probably would have been intimidated. But now, Rodney felt invincible.

"Nope. Can't," Rodney answered, getting to his feet. He walked back to his workstation, ignoring the crunch of crystals beneath his boots.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both," Rodney exclaimed. He was beginning to get agitated. Why couldn't John understand that this was important? "Please, Sheppard, listen to me. This is...Earth-shattering. Or at least it will be, if you let me focus."

John sighed, and Rodney could actually see the fight go out of him.

"But why do I have to be here?" he whined.

Rodney blinked at the pilot, nonplussed. Even for Sheppard, that was a stupid question.

"We work quite well together, you know," Rodney told him. It was a nicer compliment than he was generally willing to bestow on anyone, but the stimulants coursing through his system right now were making him feel confident and downright generous. "Occasionally. On a number of incidents, you've provided useful commentary. And as I've repeatedly stated, this is important. I have to use every advantage I can get."

John seemed to smile slightly, although it might have been a trick of Rodney's hyperactive brain. He wasn't the best at catching facial expressions on the general, and he couldn't imagine that he'd be any better now.

"So I can't leave."

Rodney tapped his hand vaguely against his thigh. He was full of so much frantic, nervous energy that it was starting to get a little...uncomfortable. If he were being completely honest, sleep wasn't the worst idea Sheppard had ever suggested, but he knew that at this point it would be completely impossible.

"You can leave once I've finished," Rodney said, sparing a second of thought to hope that this was true. "I'll fix the door."

John did not look happy about this, but he seemed to have resigned himself to the situation, which Rodney supposed was all he could really ask for. He settled himself on the couch in the corner, the one Rodney had had installed when he realized he sometimes had no choice but to catch a few quick hours of sleep in the lab before getting back to work.

Rodney turned away from him. His eyes felt too big, like they might pop out of his skull if he didn't blink, or stop blinking, or something. He needed to figure out what he was supposed to be working on. He was too aware of his pulse and his eyes and his fingers.

He heard a faint, staticy sound behind him, and he whirled around.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"I just called Teyla," John said, holding up a finger to tell Rodney to wait.

He called Teyla, he called Teyla. Rodney didn't think he liked that, but he wasn't exactly sure why. Teyla might come here and do...something. Something Rodney didn't want her to do. She might open the door. Although maybe that was a good thing, because as much as Rodney wanted to pretend he knew what he was doing, he wasn't exactly sure that he could get the door fixed with the control crystal smashed. But he...he could. That would be a problem for later, anyways.

He realized that John was talking to Teyla through his comm, and Rodney hadn't caught a single word of it. That was...alarming, although it was difficult to articulate why. Normally, his brain could run on multiple tracks. He could think, and also listen, and also….

He had stopped moving. He was standing completely still, staring at nothing, and he had no idea how long he had been like that.

John was still talking to Teyla. "Maybe just wait outside the door," he was saying. "I think it'll be fine, but in case…."

Rodney tuned out again. In case…in case what? In case there was another problem? Of course, that was it. There was another problem, one that Rodney was supposed to be solving. He had just forgotten what it was.

John leaned back against the armrest of the couch and watched Rodney vibrate in place. That wasn't an exaggeration - it was actually a bit difficult to get his tired eyes to focus on Rodney, because the slight tremor throughout every muscle of his body was making his outline slightly blurry.

John shuddered slightly, trying to imagine what Rodney was feeling with no small amount of horror. Honestly, even if McKay did open the door, John wouldn't have left. Rodney looked like he was heading for a breakdown, and John didn't want to let him go through...whatever this was...on his own.

Which meant that, for better or worse, John was stuck here. John shrugged slightly, giving up on a good night of sleep as a distant, unattainable dream.

"Whatcha doin, McKay?" John asked. Rodney had been standing in the same spot for about five minutes now, staring blankly into space.

Rodney startled, blinking owlishly at him. "Working?"

He sounded a little uncertain, which wasn't really something John was used to hearing in Rodney's voice. McKay always sounded sure of himself, even when he didn't know what the hell he was doing.

John sighed. He wanted to stay mad at Rodney for locking him in a lab - okay, maybe he was still a little mad - but the scientist just looked so lost standing there in the middle of the room, his laptop abandoned forlornly a few feet away.

"Working on what?" John prodded, as gently as he could.

"Things," Rodney replied vaguely.

"Important things, right," John finished for him. "Do you need your laptop, buddy?"

Rodney blinked a few more times, then visibly brightened. "Laptop. Yes. Exactly. See, Sheppard, this is why you can't leave just yet."

John hid a smile and watched Rodney scurry over to the laptop, open it, and begin clacking furiously away at the keys. Every so often, he'd make some small exclamation, and his air of frenetic excitement increased.

After a few minutes, John began to wonder what Rodney was up to. Slowly and cautiously, he sidled around behind Rodney, peering at the screen.

"Rodney?"

"What is it, Sheppard? I'm busy."

"Rodney, you're playing Sudoku."

Rodney looked suddenly flustered, as though he hadn't realized what was on the screen in front of him.

"This is...part of it," Rodney said, sounding both defensive and uncertain. "I need to be doing this."

John took a steadying breath. John wasn't too worried about Rodney's physical, at least not right now - he didn't think Carson would give him something dangerous. The extra dose was...concerning, certainly, but if John knew one thing about Carson, it was that he was always overcautious with his patients. He was always ordering John to stay in bed for multiple days after an injury, rest after an illness, and take medications that felt like they were probably making everything worse. John was fairly sure that, once these few hours of hell were over, Rodney would be completely fine.

But that didn't mean he thought what was best for Rodney was staying trapped in a room, working on some project that might or might not exist. His friend clearly needed rest, and...and water, and lots of other things he couldn't get while he was locked in a laboratory.

Teyla had promised John that she would put Zelenka and some of the other scientists on the task of trying to open the door from the outside, but so far, nothing had happened. He had no idea if they'd even started yet. And anyways, Rodney was the best at solving problems like that. If he didn't start working on trying to get the door open again, they could easily be trapped in the lab all night.

"Hey McKay," John said, trying to make his voice sound as if a sudden idea were dawning on him. "I have a thought."

Rodney didn't react for a moment, off in his own world, but then seemed to snap back into the conversation with a little tilt of his head. He gave John a dazed looking smile.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I think that instead of playing Sudoku, you should work on fixing the door," John said. "That would be a really good and difficult project for you to work on. And if you get it fixed, we can both leave the lab and go to bed."

"No," Rodney said quietly, sounding confused. He did not yell at John, at least, which John had half been expecting. "No, there's something else that I'm supposed to be doing…."

"Yeah, listening to me. About fixing the door?" John tried, without much hope.

"No," Rodney snapped. There it was. "Let me think."

John sighed and retreated to the couch, waiting for his opening.

Teyla took a sip of coffee and grimaced slightly at the bitter taste. She didn't ordinarily drink the strong liquid, but she'd only managed to get an hour or so of sleep before John's call on the comms had woken her back up. Without the coffee, she didn't think she'd be able to stay awake. And she needed to stay awake, because apparently Rodney had thought that it was a good idea to lock himself and John in a lab and make it impossible for them to get out.

Beside her, there was a small spark, some smoke, and a torrent of what Teyla could only assume were swear words from Zelenka.

"Is there any progress?" Teyla asked him, hoping against hope that whatever Zelenka was saying was in fact an expression of hopeful discovery.

"No," Zelenka replied, his frustration plain. "Rodney destroyed the mechanism to open the door. I am not sure that I can fix this. Even if I can-"

"It will take a while?" Teyla finished, sighing as Zelenka nodded. Resignedly, she took another sip of coffee and tapped the comms.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

There was no answer. She tried again, but the comms remained silent. Wondering if Rodney had somehow managed to destroy that as well, she knocked on the door.

"Rodney? Colonel Sheppard?"

There was another moment of silence, and then what sounded like hurried, slightly uneven footsteps.

"Teyla? Are you trying to get me to open the door too? I already told Sheppard no, you know."

"No, I am not," Teyla called, waving for Zelenka to be silent. "I wished to talk to John. Why is he not answering?"

Silence, then a sort of muffled gasp from Rodney. "He's asleep, he's supposed to be helping me, just a moment, I'll get him-"

Teyla thought she heard the sound of liquid sloshing, then a brief scuffle and a yelp.

"MCKAY-"

Hurriedly, Teyla tapped her earpiece and cleared her throat. She'd heard John's voice clearly even from the other side of the door, and he sounded angry. "John? Are you there?"

"McKay dumped coffee on me," John responded, his voice a growl in her ear.

From the other side of the door, Teyla caught Rodney's voice raised in protest, but she couldn't quite tell what he was saying.

John's response was sharp. "Well, if you got the damn door open, then I wouldn't have to sleep on the fucking couch, would I?"

"Well you're not supposed to be sleeping anyways!" That was Rodney's voice, sounding high and almost panicked even though as far as Teyla knew there was no part of this situation that was not his fault. "You're supposed to be helping me!"

"Helping you? With what? All you've done so far is destroy the door and play sudoku!"

"Well all you've done so far is...sleep, and...and yell at me, and...not fix the door..."

"You were the one who destroyed the door!" John roared.

Teyla shoved her shoulder against the door, knowing even as she did it that it would be completely useless. There was no way they were going to get Rodney and John out, not until Zelenka figured out the mechanism or Rodney came down from whatever he was on and repaired it himself.

Teyla heard Rodney yell something back, although he had moved away from the door and she could no longer make out what it was. Teyla folded her legs beneath her and sat down in the hallway, resting her head against the wall. Even though she knew there was nothing she could really do, she didn't want to leave them. Maybe if a fight broke out, she would be able to moderate it somehow, even from out here. And at the very least, at least she could have constant updates on Rodney's condition, which Carson, when she had explained the situation to him, had thought might take a sudden drop.

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as the sound of John yelling rose in the background. It was going to be a long night.

John wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed. Once Rodney had finished yelling, and John had gotten a somewhat reluctant apology for having coffee dumped on him, the scientist had turned to the white board and begun scribbling frantically. This, John figured, was good. If they had to be trapped in a lab together with Rodney so high he was shaking and flushed and John so tired he could barely walk straight, at least Rodney seemed to be accomplishing something. That was better than this being totally wasted time, and it seemed to be keeping Rodney occupied.

John wasn't sure exactly what it was that Rodney was trying to solve. He had a pretty good view of the whiteboard from where he was sitting, but that didn't help much. Rodney had written a series of equations out along the top of the board, and drawn several lines beneath them. He had added some numbers and letters beneath the lines. Now, he seemed to be in the process of circling some of them. John recognized a few of the equations from long-ago math classes, but nothing about the context rang a bell. Rodney could be doing anything from solving Fermi's paradox to inventing a microwave that made food cold.

Sometimes, Rodney would stop writing and start muttering to himself instead. John couldn't make out most of what he was saying.

"How's it going?" John asked, mostly just to have something to say.

"Amazingly well," Rodney said with a feverish excitement. "I'm on the verge of something. Something big."

John didn't bother to ask what the something big was. Most likely, Rodney wouldn't answer, and any answer he did give probably wouldn't make sense. Sadly, John didn't think it was the door.

At the whiteboard, Rodney was struggling to uncap a new marker. His hands were trembling harder now, John noticed with some concern. Eventually, the marker bounced out of Rodney's fumbling fingers and clattered onto the floor. Rodney stared at it, then his hands, obviously dismayed.

John leaned over, picked up the marker, uncapped it, and offered it to Rodney. Rodney took it, staring at it as though it held the key to the secrets of the universe. With the way he seemed to be thinking right now, maybe it did.

"Thank you," Rodney finally said, still staring at the marker. John smiled. Rodney hardly ever said thank you. Maybe John should drug him more often.

"You're welcome, Rodney," John told him, sinking back into his chair.

"No. Thank you. For staying. For...understanding that this is important."

"No problem, buddy," John said softly, unsure what else to say. He felt any residual anger from the coffee incident drain away. He liked Rodney, and he trusted his judgement, and he valued his input and expertise on missions, but the man had an ego the size of a small solar system. John had grown accustomed to Rodney's complete refusal to adhere to things like social niceties, or polite conversation involving "please," "thank you," or "I'm sorry."

"I just-"

"This drug is really doing a number on you, huh?" John asked, looking Rodney over one more time. Was it just his imagination, or did Rodney look paler?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rodney said dismissively, turning back to the board and beginning to scribble again. John fell silent, watching Rodney work.

Ten minutes and innumerable incomprehensible symbols later, Rodney dropped the marker and threw his hands into the air.

"I did it! I solved it!"

"Great job!" John said encouragingly. "What did you solve again?"

"That was all me," Rodney told him, happily ignoring John's question. "I solved it. Me! Alone! I am the KING OF SCIENCE!"

John blinked. Rodney was now glowing with a kind of frenetic energy that was a bit frightening to watch. He was still trembling faintly, standing shaky and pale in front of a whiteboard covered with symbols John couldn't even read. And he had just...declared himself the King of science. It would be funny, except...it wasn't. Rodney looked like he was about to fall over, and John was starting to get pretty worried.

"Oh," John said. "Um...good job. I'm glad that...worked for you. What...what was it that you were trying to do again?"

"Get Kate to date me," Rodney declared. "A lot of people think the best way to get dates is by talking to the person, but I...I know better. That's just one step. And not the most important one. Maybe the least important one actually. Look at all these other steps." He gestured to the whiteboard behind him.

"Isn't she...your therapist?" John said slowly. It was hard to say what the exact rules on Atlantis were, but John was quite positive that on earth, one was absolutely prohibited from even attempting to date one's therapist.

"Yes, yes, and I've accounted for all that," Rodney said dismissively, waving one trembling hand. "There are certain...rules that must be abided by. But they're all right here. I've written...these are steps. These are the steps I have to take. And I can tell you about them. First is, uh, I need to get a haircut. And I need to...read a psychology textbook. I don't...you know I don't care much for psychology. But then we'll have more things to talk about. It's all part of the formula. I'm the King of science."

Rodney was definitely looking pale. In fact, his face looked rather waxy. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and his eyes were red and a little glassy. John could tell his breathing was just a bit too fast, even from across the room. His throat was working, and if John didn't know better he would have thought Rodney was going to get sick.

"Hey," John said, as calmly as he could. "I want to finish hearing about your...plan, but why don't you sit down over here while you do it?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, there was something else I was supposed to do. Solve the...solve the therapist problem, and then...oh, fix the door. Wait, is there someone out there? Did you call someone earlier? I don't know if-"

John cut Rodney off, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him forcefully towards the sofa.

"Sit down," John said, firmly as he dared, pushing on Rodney's shoulder until he sat. "Rodney, you need rest."

"Can't sleep, can't sleep," Rodney said, hands twining in his lap.

"Try," John suggested. "Or, you know, maybe at least close your eyes."

Rodney shook his head, eyes approaching frantic. "Don't feel right," he mumbled.

John sighed. "Yeah, that's probably the overdose on mysterious stimulants. Look, Zelenka is working on the door. Drink some water, maybe try to breathe, you might feel better."

Rodney nodded, sucking in a huge breath as though he'd forgotten how. Then, he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch. John glanced towards the door, hoping Zelenka was making progress. He wasn't sure how much longer Rodney could last.