"Have you slept at all?"

Sheppard had just taken three steps into the conference room when Elizabeth's question made him pause. He glanced at his reflection in one of the large windows. His hair was a little more unruly than even his normal rakish appearance. It seemed that the water he'd splashed on his face that morning had done little for his haggard appearance... or had it been the night before?

He grabbed the back of a swivel chair and placed both hands on it. "I was busy rearranging schedules for the off world teams and postponed a few going out."

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow; he hadn't answered her question. "You suspect trouble."

"Damn straight. The last time we had any dealings with the Genii we got caught up in their little coup, they attempted to steal our jumpers, and murder a bunch of my team members. And let's not forget the nuke they detonated."

His expedition leader appraised him for a moment, even as the others began arriving in the gate room to begin their meeting. "What else have you been doing instead of resting?"

"Went over an inspection of the jumpers with Zelenka to make sure they were all flight ready and increased the security details."

He didn't mention the feelings of déjà vu, the crawling sensations he'd felt on his skin, and the unrelenting spikes of tension he had every time he turned around. He'd passed the wired stage hours ago, but he knew if he stopped moving, his body would crash on him.

"All good precautions, but let's discuss any drastic changes before you instigate them, alright?"

She was letting him off easy. He flashed her a smile in acknowledgment, even if the grin wasn't up to his usual standards and lacked his customary charm. Beckett had apparently missed the ice pick that was currently digging a hole into his temple. It was the only reason that he had turned down a third cup of coffee; he didn't want the extra caffeine to make things worse.

Or more jitters, John.

"Lorne should be getting back from PMX257 later today. I doubt he'll find anything; in fact, I'll bet our friends are long gone and the fire we created burned away any trace of 'em."

"I'm still waiting to hear back from the Narthions. As of early this morning, they could not locate Councilman Dobluis about my request to speak to him." Elizabeth paused. "I'm not sure what I'll say to him."

Sheppard pursed his lips. "Something along the lines of, did you happen to sell out our team's plans to investigate your strange energy readings and, by the way, are you still interested in trading for that new ore?"

Elizabeth laughed. "I'm glad you let Teyla do most of the negotiations, but the direct approach may prove the most useful with our councilman."

Sheppard waited for the arrival of the others for the meeting. Ronon, Teyla, and Colonel Caldwell all took seats around the table. Everyone had gotten settled in and was ready to begin discussions, when all attention was drawn towards the stairs. Rodney was making a ruckus as he tried to unsuccessfully scale them on his crutches, wobbling in a painstaking effort to reach the final platform.

Teyla held the door open as he huffed over, out of breath and his face red from exertion. "Gee, thanks," he complained, limping in.

From his seated position Ronon used his foot to shove a chair closer. Rodney glowered at him, hopping around until he sank into it wearily. "Don't get up or anything," he said grumbling about the need for an elevator under his breath

"Ronon might give you a piggyback ride down... if you asked nicely," Sheppard barbed.

"Oh, har har," Rodney retorted trying to get comfortable.

"What's a piggyback ride?" the Satedan inquired.

"Um... Never mind." Sheppard turned his attention to his friend. "What are you doing here, McKay? I thought you were supposed to be taking it easy on cloud morphine."

Rodney pulled out his data pad and fiddled with the stylus. "Who thought it would be a good idea to hold a meeting about the Genii without the smartest mind here, huh?" He looked around. "And I'll have you know, I'm holding off on my next dosage until after the meeting. Shall we get started? I want to be blissfully unaware when my foot begins throbbing in beat to one of those death metal bands the new Czech likes to listen to."

"You all heard the transmission we received from Ladon Radim yesterday. We confirmed the authenticity of the message and expect a new one in just a couple of days." Elizabeth began glancing at each of the assembled team. "The content was simple. Ladon wishes to begin the process for talks. I imagine he decided not to go into detail after considering our history with his people."

"You think?" Rodney interrupted.

Sheppard shot the man an irritated look. "He's right. The Genii have proved time and time again that they are not to be trusted. They reach out to shake with one hand as they stab us in the back with the other."

"Can we afford to ignore this opportunity? Ladon represents the new leadership of one of the few advanced races with any plans to fight the Wraith," Elizabeth countered.

Caldwell spoke for the first time, drawing everyone's attention. "It's my understanding that Ladon Radim almost killed Colonel Sheppard and his team in a nuclear blast. This after performing experiments with the ATA gene therapy of the very men he helped kidnap. Am I correct?"

Elizabeth's tone held a bitter edge. "Let's not forget that he did save Colonel Sheppard and the others."

Rodney's words were less than diplomatic. "Only after Carson treated the lepers they left to die and helped his sister."

Sheppard knew she was probably feeling outnumbered, but there was too much bad blood still felt by the occupants of the room.

"Perhaps Dr. Weir hopes that Ladon wants to build upon the end result of our last encounter," Teyla said, trying to add a more neutral tone.

Ronon's low gravelly voice retorted Teyla's point. "They can't be trusted."

Elizabeth didn't back down at the Satedan's simple assessment. "Well, I don't think we have much of a choice. Do we?"

Sheppard knew what Elizabeth meant and, despite the ice pick's attempt to carve out a trench through his skull, he tried to find a compromise. "She's right." All heads turned towards him. "We won't know unless we accept the invitation."

Caldwell's eyes were on him, considering his words. Sheppard bet the man hadn't intended to second guess him all the time, it was just his nature. The chair squeaked as Sheppard leaned back. "We do it on our terms. On a neutral site of our choosing and only if we like what we hear."

He waited for the arguing, for all the reasons why this was a bad idea. In fact, he agreed with every skeptical expression: Ronon's distrust, Teyla's apprehension, Rodney's anxious anger and Caldwell's reluctant agreement. He didn't need to see Elizabeth's softening features to know she was relieved.

"Think you're really that good at chess, Colonel?" Rodney's acidic voice interrupted his thoughts.

Sheppard rested his elbows on the table. "You should know, McKay."

He just hoped that the Genii would be as uncertain of their skills when it came time to make their move.

Rodney's arms, shoulders, and even his sides ached from struggling with his crutches. With all the advancements of medicine, it still took plaster to cast up an arm or leg. In his case, all he could do was stay off his foot. Couldn't modern voodoo invent anything better than aluminum poles to hop around on all day?

He must have voiced another complaint out loud, because his companion growled at him. Ronon did that a lot to communicate. Occasionally he was treated to a monosyllabic snarl.

Everyone had the wrong impression that he was on morphine. That drug was reserved for "serious wounds," Carson had explained, handing him a bottle of tiny yellow tablets that were definitely NOT the good stuff.

"Will you hurry up, McKay? They're serving my favorite for lunch," Ronon barked in annoyance from where he waited, several feet ahead.

"You actually like meatloaf? It's the lowest tier of all the meats." He puffed trying to catch up.

"It tastes good and if I'm too late to get two helpings, I'm blaming you."

"You're not allowed seconds."

Ronon kept walking and that only infuriated him. "Wait, how do you get extras?"

"I'm bigger," the Satedan replied, his long strides creating a larger gap between them.

Rodney increased his pace in earnest. "It's that Mandy chick isn't it?" When the man didn't reply he grew testier. "I knew it. She has the hots for you and that's not fair. The rest of us don't get any more. In fact, they run out sometimes when I get there."

Ronon chuckled. "She likes Sheppard, too."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "That's not surprising," he muttered and almost fell down. "Damn it! I hate these things."

He almost ran into a wall, but realized it was only his companion. "Why'd you stop like that?"

The look in Ronon's eyes was steely, his face a stone slate. When he spoke, all trace of their earlier banter was gone. "Do you really need those things?"

Rodney felt his face flush. "Of course I do."

"If you really do, it might be a good idea that you learn to use them right."

Sputtering was a hard thing to control, but Rodney managed a few choice words. "I'm doing the best I can. They're barbaric!"

"Any day now we might encounter a threat. Could be Genii. Could be the people who attacked us yesterday. We need everyone to be able to defend this city."

Rodney crutched towards the much larger man, exhibiting a rare display of fearlessness. "Excuse me? Just in case you have a short term memory problem, I've saved Atlantis more times than I can count and that's with the most important part of me. My brain."

Ronon loomed over him. "You can fix things. But you need to know how to defend yourself. How to be ready for anything."

"I do all the time. How many extra training classes have I gone through with Sheppard or you for that matter?"

The Satedan crossed his arms. "Those crutches don't have to stop you."

Rodney looked down at the devices. "What? I mean, how?"

"If you really want to learn how to adapt and how to think fast, meet me later tonight at the gym and I'll show you."

Ronon turned to head towards the mess hall and didn't look back. Rodney hurried, using both metal poles in a more fluid motion to try to keep up.

Fine. Conan doesn't think I'll show up? I'll show him.

Despite all the pessimism of earlier, they both arrived in time to get decent helpings of meatloaf, some Athosian vegetables, bread and what had Rodney beaming. Apple cobbler. He had noticed the tasty dessert on a couple tables and had even made one of the cafeteria workers go search for more when they'd insisted it was gone.

His stomach rumbled as his nose caught the aroma that wafted through the air and he slid his tray over to pick up some silverware. He was about to head towards a table, but realized that he couldn't carry his tray and crutch there at the same time. Several people passed him while he contemplated his dilemma. He spotted Ronon, shoveling food into his mouth without a glance up, eating next to Sheppard who sat stiffly, eyes scanning every table.

Rodney squinted to see if there was anything he should have noticed, but after glancing around, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He knew his lunch was getting cold and both his 'pals' were only a few feet away and not coming over to help. Sheppard was too engrossed in casing out the place so rather than wait for him to notice, he cleared his throat loudly to get the man's attention.

Sheppard finally snapped out of his trance and walked over. "Need a hand?"

"Since mine are busy, yes." The colonel took his food and he regretted being cranky when he observed his friend's sickly pallor. "Jeesh, taken a look in the mirror lately?"

Sheppard ignored him and carried his lunch over to the table that Ronon occupied. Rodney maneuvered over, pulled out his chair and began to eat. He cut up the layers of meat and gravy while one eye studied the colonel.

Sheppard sat in the corner, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes flicking from one side of the room to the other. Rodney wasn't able to keep his curiosity at bay and searched the faces of the crowd around them while he chewed. The colonel aimlessly shoved his food around with his fork. Rodney doubted the man was aware that he was turning his lunch into a pile of mush.

"You know, food is typically meant to be eaten," Rodney snarked.

The utensil made slow moving circles, while green eyes darted around in little patterns across the mess hall.

"Atlantis to Sheppard."

The colonel looked up distracted. "What?"

Rodney shook his head. "Just checking to see if anyone's home."

Sheppard dropped his fork with a clatter and slumped in his seat. "Sorry, guess I'm on edge."

"Perhaps sleeping might help," Rodney pointed out. "And eating for one thing."

Ronon poked at the untouched tray. "You plan on finishing that?"

"Hello, the colonel hasn't even started." Rodney used his fork to slap away Ronon's knife. Ronon parried, causing both utensils to scrape together. Ronon spun the utensil and pinned Rodney's fingers to the table with the dull blade, smiling devilishly before slipping it back to cut away at his meal.

Sheppard continued his impression of a space cadet, his gaze drifting around. It was getting on Rodney's nerves. "What the heck are you looking at?"

The colonel's shoulders were tense, every muscle coiled and ready to spring. "Nothing."

"You're a lousy liar," Rodney said between mouthfuls of a carrot and pea type substance.

Sheppard shoved his lunch aside, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the table. "Have you guys noticed anything... off?"

Ronon was instantly at attention, eyes roaming the mess hall. "Like what?"

"I dunno," Sheppard sighed. "I've got this feeling..."

"You know paranoia often accompanies exhaustion. Let's not forget the whack to your head," Rodney declared. "Why don't you try putting food in your stomach? It might settle your nerves."

Sheppard swallowed, looking slightly green. "That's your remedy for everything."

"Nauseous?" Rodney asked.

"Just tense."

"Riiiight," Rodney sighed.

Silence settled on the group, now that the good colonel had to ruin everything with talk of spooky intuition and gut feelings. Rodney rubbed his hands together in glee, breathing deeply the cinnamon sprinkled concoction. Fresh fruit and spices were still a rare commodity. This was the only time he didn't mind seeing Caldwell around. The colonel was like Santa Claus with loads of goodies on his warp drive powered sleigh.

Sheppard looked at his tray quizzically. "We had cobbler today?"

Ronon smirked. "You are out of it."

"Yes, we did, Colonel. In fact, I had to makes threats to secure the last piece. Hmmmmmm," he taunted, knowing apple cobbler was one Sheppard's favorite desserts.

He saw the shadow cross his tray, sensed a certain fly boy invade the airspace above his prized possession. "Stop it."

"What?" Sheppard replied innocently.

Rodney's fork hovered over the succulent crust, thin slices of warm apple daring him to dig in. "You are not going to guilt me into sharing."

"Think that's real brown sugar?"

Rodney's mouth watered. "It's flattering that you're going through the effort of adding that tiny whine to your voice, but it's mine."

He heard the sigh. No, don't look up, a little voice told him. Too late, he fell for it.

"Colonel, just a few minutes ago your stomach wasn't up for any food," he accused.

"He didn't say that," Ronon was quick to point out.

Rodney pointed his fork at the Satedan. "It's not fair to gang up on me. You know as well as I do that he's concussed and will probably throw it back up anyway."

"It might help my appetite."

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Rodney growled, separating the luscious dessert in halves. "Fine, take some."

Sheppard didn't have to be asked twice and eagerly dumped a portion onto his plate. Rodney crossed his arms. "You owe me the next strawberry cake."

"I don't like strawberry," Sheppard mumbled, scooping up the apple confection. "Mmmm, if we had vanilla ice cream this would be heaven."

Rodney held his tongue and settled for devouring what was left, flaking crumbs all over the table. In between the tartness and sugary bliss of melting flavors, he stopped mid-chew. A shiver ran up his spine and the tiny hairs on his arms sprang to life. Ronon tensed suddenly with eyes scanning like a hawk and Rodney knew he wasn't alone in experiencing the peculiar sensation. But, as quickly as the feeling had hit him, it disappeared.

Sheppard was content with stuffing his face and Rodney wasn't about to ruin the mood by commenting on the eerie ambiance. He shook his head, half convinced he'd only been sucked up in Sheppard's paranoia. But before he could say anything, Ronon grabbed his tray abruptly and left without a word.

"There was no trace of the people who ambushed you, sir."

Sheppard had anticipated the answer but still wasn't thrilled with Lorne's news. "Any sign of a camp? Weapon casings?"

Lorne's face fell, obviously annoyed with coming up empty handed. "The ground was still smoldering when we got there. If anything had been left, the blaze destroyed it."

Sheppard's eyes drifted down to the clipboard in his hand, then over to a container of grenades. 1242-AX was neatly stenciled on the top and it took a moment to locate the corresponding row on the supply chart. His pen hovered over the paper and he had to double check again when he lost his place.

He cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. "That brings us back to the Narthions and our missing councilman."

"I could take a team out to drop by and pay them a visit."

"No, I want to keep everyone in one place while dealing with this Genii situation," he replied, studying his inventory sheet again.

His headache had grown in magnitude over the past few hours. A guy with a jackhammer drilled a hole behind his left eye, keeping the ice pick from earlier company.

"Staff Sergeant Riggs runs a tight ship, sir," Lorne commented.

Sheppard smiled. It was good that the young major was concerned with how he viewed the men. "This has nothing to do with the sergeant's abilities. I don't do these things often enough."

It was a blatant lie, but it gave him something to do. He nodded towards the door and the tension in Lorne's shoulders relaxed at the inspection cut short.

"If you don't mind me saying so, sir, but I thought one of the perks of command was delegation."

Sheppard chuckled as they exited the armory. "Do you know how long I sit behind a desk, overseeing labor distribution, mission reports, supply issues, and disciplinary matters?" Sheppard inquired.

Lorne cracked a grin. "Not as long as you should?"

The major's eyes hastily stared at the floor when Sheppard glared at him. "Funny."

Lorne stopped in the middle of the empty corridor, his face somber. "I don't trust the Genii and not just from what happened last time. They're power hungry in a leaderless galaxy under constant threat. When there's a power vacuum, someone's bound to step up to the plate and try to gain control."

Sheppard's eyes fell at the words that echoed his own nagging distrust of the militaristic people. He nodded. "Thanks for your candid comments."

The major straightened and he waved his hand at him. "At ease. You know I'm always open to your opinion."

"Thank you, sir. It's nice I can share it."

Sheppard managed to refrain from laughing out loud at that one. Being allowed to express your feelings about protocols or orders was not encouraged in their line of work. The brass might not approve of his command style, but then again, he didn't consider Atlantis your regular post.

"Do you know when you're cleared for active duty?"

Sheppard barely heard Lorne's question because his insides had tightened into knots, his belly somersaulting. His eyes roamed the empty halls suspiciously while his subordinate stared at him worriedly.

"Anything wrong, sir?"

"No, Major. I think it's been a very long day." Sheppard didn't sound convincing even to his own ears.

"I'll see you during the next briefing."

He really hated being grounded like this but nodded as Lorne went towards his quarters. He rubbed at the tension in his neck, the need to go on a run tempting despite how drained he felt. By the time he'd reached his room, he was glad that he hadn't tried to go for that jog. His doors slid open as he thought the lights to dim and dragged his tired body through, plucking out his com piece and tossing it on his desk.

The idea of a shower held a sense of salvation. He undid the strap to his holster, pulled out his Beretta and placed it on the night stand. He stretched his arms until the joints popped and he considered just stripping and going right to bed.

No, the hot steam and water were too alluring He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and began pulling it from his BDUs.

"If only a beer would appear when I thought about," he said out loud. He paused, waiting to see if there'd be a magical response.

"Damn. Worth a try."

It was the tingle that alerted him, his good old spidey sense. He felt every muscle tense and his head whipped around at an odd shimming a few feet away.

His eyes grew large as a dark figure appeared out of thin air in his room. His fingers brushed the holster at his hip and he cursed silently when he felt the empty leather. He didn't have time to voice how much the situation sucked before the faceless enemy launched at him.