And we're getting into the thick of it. Pretty soon it's gonna get real interesting. Also, I'd say the Earth-based part of the story is over half done. The Pegasus part will be much, much longer.

I included a description of Ronon's power since it has been brought to my attention that I have failed to do so before. I apologize for this. I actually had it in an earlier chapter but spazzed out and erased it for unknown reasons.

For some reason, the chapters posted on Thursday tend to be longer and go up earlier in the day, even though I have one less day to write. Maybe it's because something in my brain goes dun wanna write it's a weekend and I somehow expect the chapter to magically write itself while I goof off. Huh.

Disclaimer: me no own.

---

Chapter 6- Stable- John's power stabilizes itself and the Genii have a plan.

With four people of complete opposite personalities trapped into a house, even one as big as McKay's, there should have been serious issues. John was honestly surprised when there weren't; in fact, the four of them seemed to somehow click.

The days started to run together again in a bittersweet sort of way. They were hard to distinguish from one another in all but the one aspect of the countdown to the inevitable moment John's power stabilized and he was once again safe to let loose in public. Once that happened, he had no idea what sort of treatment to expect or what sort of plans he ought to be making for the future. It had been made clear multiple times that there was a place for him in Weir's network should he want it. A part of him, however, envied Ronon's free-roaming lifestyle, even if the Satedan barked a harsh laugh and told him to not be stupid when he asked about it.

Mornings were peaceful, as Ronon was still mild-mannered with lingering sleep and Rodney was either asleep or buried eyeball-deep in some intellectual problem and Teyla was always serene and calm. John would spend the crisply cold mornings lazing around the house after lapping the gate a few times. Ronon turned out to be a decent running partner, though to be honest claiming them to actually be partners was something of an insult to Ronon. Breakfast was mostly cereal, although one day Teyla- who was allowed to leave the house- went shopping and came back with a couple of grapefruits that she had found God only knows where, which she was unable to get past the gate since Rodney's power wanted nothing whatsoever to do with the things. John made the mistake of asking Rodney what he had against grapefruit and Rodney went on an anti-citrus rant that could probably be heard in Seattle.

Once, John followed his nose into the basement again and managed to sneak off with three quarters of a pot of Rodney's hideously expensive coffee, the Keeper himself oblivious to the world as he messed around in Weird Gizmo Corner. Rodney caught on fairly quickly but by then John had transferred the coffee into a thermos and left the pot on the upstairs kitchen counter. He was long gone by the time Rodney made it upstairs.

Lunch was whatever he felt like grabbing, which thanks to Rodney's niece tended to be peanut butter and jelly since the ingredients were plentiful and it required very little effort to make. The other three were off doing other stuff and he had the chance to eat in peace and think about things. Sometimes, in those quiet moments, he found himself itching to draw Stargate addresses again. Once he gave in to that urge only to find himself writing the same one over and over and getting more and more frustrated because there was something missing and he was so close it literally hurt.

He broke the spell that time by putting his fist through the wall. Teyla scolded him as she drew wards on the uninjured part of his hand to heal the two bones he'd fractured. Rodney merely glanced at the paper John had been writing on and told the house to fix itself, which was certainly an interesting thing to watch, before vanishing back into that damned basement.

Afternoons were the active part of the day. Ronon translated his agreeing to spar once to mean 'whenever you feel like sparring, feel free to drag me away from whatever I might be doing so you can reduce me to a funny-colored smear on the floor'. At least he stuck to a schedule- at two in the afternoon, for one hour, John got to prove how woefully inadequate his own training was. He got better in a surprising hurry, though, probably because it was either that or die a slow, painful death. During day four he caught sight of Teyla practicing with her sticks and made the mistake of wandering a little too close. Somehow, he found himself signing up for stick-fighting lessons to take the place of sparring every other day. Teyla told him, a little too sweet and innocent to be trustworthy, that such rigorous physical training would help teach him the self-control he would need to deal with his power.

The second sparring match with Ronon after the new arrangement, the Satedan make a casual comment about why McKay even needed a home gym when he never used it. There was a moment's pause. Then they exchanged slightly wild grins, confirming that they were thinking the same thing. They fetched the loudly protesting Keeper from his lair and ran him through a basic self-defense workout. The process was repeated the day after next, except that time Rodney read them both the riot act and stormed out.

He was back ten minutes later and showed up on his own almost every day after that.

Evenings quickly became the true highlight of the day. The four of them tended to find themselves drawn to the same place at about six or so, the only true gathering during the day. Sometimes it was nothing more than pizza in the kitchen. Sometimes one of them tried cooking, an interesting experience since it appeared none of them could actually do so. Sometimes dinner itself took a backseat to the entertainment and the four would camp out in the family room, not exactly sharing popcorn and whatever candy Rodney had begged Teyla into getting and fighting over what to watch. One day Ronon snitched Rodney's credit card and came back with about three hundred dollars' worth of DVD's. Teyla made him take the porn back.

They had visitors on occasion. Every other day for about a week, Lorne dropped by. He rarely stayed for longer than a few minutes, just checking in to make sure the two grounded ones weren't leaving the house and going out to get them whatever they needed. The last day of his visits, he told John- whom he had slowly warmed up to- that he was being reassigned to a base in Arkansas to so as to be close to Elizabeth. Not that she really needed watching over, but better safe than sorry. A young black man named Bates picked up Lorne's house-call duties after he left. None of John's three house-mates seemed enamored of the man, which John got the feeling was duly earned by the virtue of Bates being something of an asshole. He didn't stick around to talk like Lorne did and gave John long, uncomfortable stares when he was around. The nerdy European guy stopped by almost as many times, though he spent most of the time in the basement with Rodney. The two of them spent most of the time trading insults and arguing, half in English and half in what John eventually recognized as Czech. Despite the continuous yelling the two seemed to get along brilliantly and one time John wandered into the basement, they were jabbering excitedly at each other, finishing the other's sentences as they darted around the huge room.

John found himself watching his three house-mates, studying them, taking them in. These people had seen him at his worst, had stood by his side as his world turned inside out and everything he thought he knew about everything turned out to be wrong. There was no passing of judgment, no derision or condescension. Well, there was Rodney, but he treated all of them that way, and John could see now that even his most pointed comments weren't really intended to hurt.

None of them really knew what to do about Christmas, so they more or less ignored the holiday looming over them. John and Rodney weren't supposed to leave the house anyways and Teyla and Ronon had only been on Earth for three years each and still didn't get why it was such a big deal. Neither of the two Earth natives had a good family life and so wouldn't be missed. They were content to leave it at that.

---

On the twenty-seventh, John's power randomly decided to stabilize itself. It did so in the space of about twenty seconds and immediately decided to announce itself in the most ostentatious way possible.

---

He made another circuit of the room before pausing in the open doorway, peering into bathroom. Ronon saw him and narrowed his eyes into a glare to prevent John asking the same question for the fifth time. Teyla ignored them both as she sorted through the first aid kit Rodney had passed off to her. She pulled out a roll of gauze and some medical tape and handed the rest of the kit back to John.

"I'm just making sure," he said, refusing to let Ronon intimidate him. "I mean, I've never done anything like that before."

"I should hope not," Rodney scoffed. John turned to scowl at him. During his Air Force days he could send even superior officers running for cover with that glare. Rodney spared him a dismissive glance and ignored him.

"Got worse from teaching kids to spar," Ronon grunted. He leaned away from Teyla as she reached out with the alcohol-soaked cleaning pad; she grabbed his shoulder with on firm hand and held him in place as she drew the pad across the gash over his left eyebrow.

"I just don't- how did I even do that?" John glanced around at the other three. The looks they exchanged told him he was missing something rather obvious.

"Hello, wild power?" Rodney moved away from the bathroom doorway as the astringent smell got stronger.

"Yeah, but Ronon wasn't using his power- were you?" This accompanied by a glance at the Satedan who grunted a no. "And last I checked, I only hijack powers when they're being actively used around me."

"Unless, of course, you didn't need to hijack anyone else's powers because you have your own," Rodney pointed out.

"So my power's stabilized?" John asked, turning to regard the Keeper.

"Hard to say for certain, since you're obviously a wild power in every meaning of the words, but, yeah. Pretty much."

John let his breath out in a rush and collapsed back against the wall. He rolled onto a shoulder and peered into the bathroom again.

"You're sure you're alright?"

Ronon literally growled. "Dammit, Sheppard, I said fuck off!"

Teyla reached out to lay a hand on John's arm in reassurance. "He is fine," she told him. "It is a small cut, nothing more."

"He's just pissed 'cause you caught him off-guard and Specialists are supposed to be ready for that sort of thing," Rodney added. Ronon tried to stand but Teyla pushed him back down- she was surprisingly strong and had a better angle.

John decided to take their words to heart and backed off a little. Rodney gestured for him to follow and walked out of the room. After one last glance toward the Satedan, John went.

"So what exactly happened?" the Keeper asked. He led the way into the kitchen and dug a beer out of the fridge, handing it over without comment. John highly doubted that getting drunk was in any way going to help, but he still took it gratefully.

"I don't know," he admitted, ignoring Rodney's protest and using the counter to pop the top off the bottle. "I mean, one moment it's all completely normal, he's kicking my ass just like every other time, the next he's flying through the air. I didn't even touch him."

"You wouldn't have had to. Sounds like your power is reactionary- it senses a threat and lashes out. Most likely tied in to your emotions somehow. You're probably never going to be able to control when or how strongly it reacts, so you're going to need to learn how to restrain it and keep it from hurting people who don't deserve to have their brains smeared across the floor."

"Wait," John ordered, making the back-up gesture with one hand. "You're saying that my power stabilizing itself actually makes me... more dangerous?"

"Before you were only dangerous to yourself and to those who used their power near you. Now you're dangerous to everyone. So, yeah."

"Great."

"The good news being that, thanks to your being almost inhuman in terms of self-control, learning to control your power should take you only a few days. The bad news being, if anyone ever really pisses you off ever again, you're probably going to kill them without meaning to."

"You know, you really could have just stopped after that first part," John drawled.

Rodney made a hmm noise and tilted his head to the side, studying John like he was some sort of new piece of Ancient junk. John shifted uncomfortably under that steady gaze. He ducked his head and hitched his shoulders up and started to turn away to put his back to the Keeper. Before he could, however, Rodney snorted and pulled out another beer.

"Follow me," he ordered, heading out of the kitchen and into the main hallway. John hesitated, then ducked after him.

"Why? What's going on?"

"I need to show you something, probably something you should've seen the first time this happened but oh well. It might help you understand a few things or it might just make it worse, but it's..." Rodney paused and sighed. "It's worth a shot, right?"

"Maybe, if I had even the faintest idea what you're talking about," John answered, though his opinion apparently wasn't necessary since Rodney was already halfway down the basement stairs and showed no sign of having actually paid attention. John rolled his eyes and followed.

He balked just before stepping into Weird Gizmo Corner, some unnamed instinct telling him he didn't really want to go any further. Rodney had no such compunctions and walked right up to the table. He hefted a piece of blue-ish metal and held it out.

"What's that?" John asked suspiciously.

"Just take it," Rodney huffed, and John did as ordered. The second he touched it, the metal began to glow a deep, intense shade of electric blue and damn near vibrated right out of his grip. He let it drop, cursing ripely when the chunk of metal nailed his left foot.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, sliding a hip onto the table so he could kick off his shoe and massage the abused toes.

"It's Ancient," Rodney explained. "For reasons unknown, most Ancient devices can only be activated by certain people. Most times they just sit around being useless, but occasionally we get someone who can make them work. With you, this activation ability seems to be tied into your power. Every time you have one of your little... attacks, your power starts getting riled up."

John put his foot down and glanced at the still-glowing metal chunk on the floor. "So what you're saying is, everything that's been happening to me is actually normal?"

"Normal, no. The ability to activate Ancient technology is extraordinarily rare. In fact, you're the first Earth native we've found who could do so. Now, granted, that doesn't mean you're the only one, just that you're the only one we've found. It's not like we can put an ad in the paper or something, although we could-"

"Rodney," John growled, verbally herding the Keeper back on track. "We're not recruiting people here, we're just trying to figure out what the hell is happening to me, remember?"

"Right. Anyways, I've talked this over with- others, and as near as we can tell you've always had the activation ability, but once you picked up your wild power, the two kind of... meshed together. Therefore, you can't use one without somehow interacting with the other."

"So this whole thing is because..." John gestured around him, trying to indicate everything that was happening to him, and found himself drawing out that damn Stargate address in the air in front of him.

"Because you're a freak who won the genetic lottery not once, but twice? Yes."

Not exactly the most reassuring thing John had ever heard, but if it made sense to someone and they weren't worried about it, he supposed he ought to be grateful.

"So how long am I gonna have to deal with this crap?" he asked.

"What, you mean the...?" Rodney mimicked his air-writing motions and John nodded. "Can't say for certain, but most likely your entire life. It'll probably get better as you learn how to control- well, as you learn how to work with your power."

John stared at him for several long moments. "I think I want a second opinion on that."

"Oh, yes, I agree. Let's go get one. There's a hospital not far from here, and it's even got a mental ward, so when the doctor hears you blathering on about power and ten-thousand-year-old technology and sedates you, they won't have to drag you very far."

"You said yourself you aren't the expert on how this works," John snapped back. "So who is? Call them in."

"That would be Daniel Jackson, and I already have."

"So why are we having this conversation?"

Rodney threw his hands into the air and paced away, barking out a long string of insults that started in English and wandered its way through at least four other languages. John watched, amused by the rant.

"All right," the Keeper muttered as he came back around to stand in front of John again. "All right. You may not have figured this out already, since you're kind of stupid-"

"Hey!"

"-but this could be the greatest opportunity we have to learn about the Ancients. Think about it- if you turn on the right device, you could find a way to open the Stargate, or maybe even locate the weapon the Ancients used on the Wraith. The possibilities are endless."

"I'm not stupid," John protested, and Rodney gave him what he now recognized as the patented McKay Glare, the one that could scare off an angry grizzly bear. He smirked cheerfully at the look- Rodney wasn't the only one who could develop an immunity to the other's intimidation tactics.

"I said kind of. There's still hope for you yet, although I may have to give up on that."

"Uh huh," John muttered, still smirking. "Just admit it, McKay, you only love me because I'm the Ancient version of an on switch."

"Oh, absolutely. That's the only reason I've let you stay in my house and eat my food for three weeks."

Knowing Elizabeth's power and skill with people, there was the very real chance that John had been masterfully manipulated into this whole situation. If that turned out to be true, he could very easily get upset with Elizabeth herself. However, if there was some sort of grand scheme going on behind the curtains, Rodney was as oblivious as John, if not more so. So John merely grinned at the Keeper as they fell into their now-familiar snark routine.

"So when is this Jackson getting here?" he asked.

"Depends," Rodney answered vaguely. He'd grabbed the glowing metal and was running some sort of scanner over it carefully. "He's in Colorado right now, but he's been wanting to meet you for weeks, so he'll probably be getting up here as soon as he gets the message. Also, you're gonna need to watch yourself around him. He's an empath and people as emotionally constipated as you can hurt him if you're not careful."

"Great." Emotionally constipated. Wasn't that an endearing term. "So what is that thing?"

"No idea. It used to be a part of something a lot bigger, but somewhere along the line..." He hefted the object, showing John the edge of the metal where it had clearly been sheared off.

"Then why's it glow?"

"I'm sorry, do you see an instruction manual on this thing?" Rodney snapped impatiently. "No? Then I can't tell you so stop asking questions before I have to remove the 'kind of'."

It took John a moment to figure that one out. He sighed and shook his head. Sure, he was no McKay, but he wasn't an idiot either. It was just incredibly hard to appear intelligent when you found yourself tossed into a situation you had no way of preparing for and had to ask approximately nine hundred questions a day just to have a basic understanding of what was going on.

"Is that all you wanted me for?" he asked, feeling suddenly tired. He had been warned that using his power would tax both physical and mental resources, and he would need to work on his stamina. He hadn't understood that before, but he got it now- his entire body had a residual soreness and he had the faint impression of a headache. Right now it was nothing serious, not even noticeable if he wasn't looking for it, but another few outbursts like with Ronon and he'd be feeling it for days.

Rodney looked at him for a long moment, then turned his gaze to the table with its two-dozen-odd devices.

John groaned and reached for the first one.

---

Once, when she had been just a young girl, Sora had been sent into the under-city on an errand for her father. She had taken a shortcut through a training gym and had paused, entranced by the sight of Commander Kolya. He was a powerful man in the Genii echelon, the closest thing to a military leader her mercenary people had.

Commander Kolya had been teaching a small group of students the fine art of infiltrating the supposedly impenetrable stronghold. He had seen her, huddled into the far corner of the room, saw her and ignored her. He didn't demand that she leave; if anything, he had shifted a little so he was addressing her as well. Three days later, she had been officially inducted into the ranks of the Genii elite forces, provided of course she survived the training. She had, but that was neither here nor there.

That day, the Commander had told his students plus one twelve-year-old girl that there was no such thing as a perfect defense, that there was always a weakness in every wall. Sora was of the opinion that he might not have said such things had he known of Earth's Keepers.

She dropped the binoculars- one good thing about Earth was the ease with which anyone could obtain just about anything- and sighed, watching her breath billow out in a pale cloud. It was bitterly cold out here and she was working on day four of her three-day house-watching shift. She knew she was being punished for failing to kill the Keeper those weeks ago. Still, this was an underhanded and cowardly way of going about it. If a soldier failed you, you punished him once, sometimes in front of his peers if he deserved it, then you let it go and moved on. This endless sentence did nothing but foster resentment.

Briefly she thought of Ladon. The man was not necessarily a friend, but he was her closest companion among their small group. He was also subject to this drudgery for no reason more than because he'd happened to be there when punishments were being handed out. That he was late wasn't a surprise- the man had fallen in love with this planet's computer systems and spent all his spare time tinkering away with whatever technology he could get his hands on. Should they ever achieve their goal and gain control over the Stargate, the information he was gathering would be invaluable to the Genii people.

Assuming there still was a Genii people. Assuming the Wraith or any of their enemies hadn't wiped them out. Assuming the problem they had heard of the Stargate having was nothing more than stupidity or ignorance on the Earthers' part. Assuming they could ever seize control of the 'gate from Weir's network. Assuming they ever figured out where the damn thing even was.

She sighed again and rolled to the side, clambering to her feet. Her muscles were stiff with cold and the strain of forced stillness. Even so, she forced herself to move carefully through the stand of trees bordering the house's west side. The Satedan came out here once every two or three days to look around. He knew she was out here, and she knew she didn't have a hope in hell of beating a Satedan Specialist. Her only defense was to not be where he was.

Specialists were a rare and dangerous breed, all the more so because theirs wasn't a power that could be learned or that one could be born with. It was a wild power and had to be inherited. The Satedans were especially well-known for their undying line of masters; when they had closed their borders due to civil war and pulled away from their Stargate, no one had dared to intrude. Those were a people who meant business when it came to war.

From the way it had been described to Sora, a Specialists' power lent itself to a fight; they could use physical force and their power in equal balance in just about any scenario. Hand to hand, the power enhanced it user's strength and speed. With a gun, it improved their aim and put extra force behind the bullet. The power adapted itself to make its user the best they could be at whatever manner of combat they were engaged in, hence the term 'specialist'. It could also be actively used to cause distractions and keep their opponent continuously unsteady. A Specialist could be defeated, but not easily, and certainly not by one person alone.

That the Genii were watching the Keeper's house was a given. Still, there was no need to give them more information than absolutely necessary.

Sora traced her earlier steps back to the main road and flung herself into her car. She jammed the key into the ignition and cranked the heat all the way up. After a few moments to soak in the glorious warmth, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Ladon's number for the umpteenth time.

This time, he surprised her and answered.

"I think I have an idea," he said before she could get past her shock. "About the Keeper, I mean."

"You answered your phone," Sora said, feeling stupid even as she said it. Of course he did, he could get- was going to get- into serious trouble for failing to do so.

"It's just like what Commander Kolya told us," he continued, unknowingly echoing her earlier thoughts. "Every wall has a weak point. We've been assuming that there's no way to get in because there's no walls in the way, just McKay's power. Well, we're wrong. We need to look at his power as a wall and work from there."

"There's a difference between stone and mortar and a man's power, Ladon," Sora reminded him. If he had spent the past twenty-three hours working on a way to get past the Keeper's defenses instead of watching the house, he'd better have something to show for it.

"Well, what do we know about Keepers?"

"There are none outside of Earth." Ladon grunted; not the answer he was looking for. "They're highly valued? I don't know, Ladon, and I don't feel like playing this game so why don't you tell me."

"They need to feel safe. If they feel threatened or insecure while in their safe zone, their power fades and it all comes undone. No more safe zone."

"Right," she agreed with a sigh. "But that's not going to happen. They don't let anyone they don't know in. Getting in without his permission is impossible, Ladon, and if we can't get in we can't make him feel insecure."

"It's a catch-22, I know. But I have an idea."

Sora rubbed at her ears, ignoring the tingling as she worked feeling back into the cold flesh, and listened to his plan. By the time he was done talking, she was smiling. By the time she hung up with him and checked in with her team's CO, she was happier than she had been since being stranded on this ignorant planet.

McKay's days as a Keeper were numbered.

---

Daniel allowed the car door to slam perhaps a little harder than was absolutely necessary and stared at the wall of power he could all but see in front of him. The main gate of Rodney McKay's house was something of an intimidating sight, made all the more so because this was his second visit and he now knew what to expect. He'd managed to convince himself that it wasn't as bad as he remembered it being, which probably meant it was worse.

Even more worrying was the reaction of his companion. Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height as if preparing to lead a cavalry into a charge; he could feel her gathering her courage and strength. Given her normal propensity for fearlessness, this was a concerning sensation.

"Did you know this Sheppard was a child of the Ancients?" Daniel asked her, trying to distract both of them. She spared him a quick smile.

"I knew he was different from anyone else I've ever seen. What that meant or how he was different, though, is as new to me as it is to you. And it would probably be best if you didn't call him that in front of Rodney."

"Yeah, I noticed that already," the archaeologist muttered. He took a deep breath, spared Elizabeth another glance, then walked forward. The gate opened in a sufficiently creepy haunted-house style, although it was too well cared for to squeak or squeal. Daniel moved forward those last few feet and felt the pressure, the invasive power that skimmed through his mind and across his skin and left him feeling thoroughly violated.

"I really hate that," he said when it was over. Elizabeth was looking a little less put-off than him.

"You get used to it," she told him. "And the more he trusts you, the less severe it is."

There was a brief pause as she realized what she'd said, and more importantly, to who. Daniel hesitated, then started up the long drive to the main house. He mourned the loss of their car but knew there was no point in even suggesting bringing it in. Had they thought about it, they probably could have arranged to be picked up by someone in a vehicle McKay wasn't freaky about. Too late now.

A long-legged figure loped towards them over the lawn. Elizabeth stopped and waited for their visitor to reach them, and once he did Daniel had to stare just a little. He knew who this was, having heard Jack complain about him frequently enough, but he'd never thought to meet the man.

"Ronon Dex, Daniel Jackson," Elizabeth introduced them. Ronon turned his head to the side to study Daniel out of the corner of his eye. It was somehow even more impressive than a full-on stare.

"Uh, hi," Daniel tried gamely. The big man continued to study him, then abruptly turned and strode away. "Doesn't say much, does he?" the archaeologist asked wryly.

"Does he really need to?" Elizabeth countered, and Daniel had to give her that one.

An agitated McKay was waiting for them when they reached the main house. Without so much as a hello, he ushered them into the living room where a lanky man was sprawled on the couch, one arm across his eyes.

"Hey! I said you could take a break, not take over my couch and hibernate all winter!" The Keeper barked.

The man on the couch started a little bit, then relaxed back into the cushions. "Jesus, Rodney, anyone ever tell you you'd make a good drill sergeant?" he asked in a slow, sleep-rough drawl. Then his hazel eyes flickered over to the newcomers and smirked. "Hey, Lizzy. Haven't seen you in a while. Kinda missed you."

Elizabeth went stiff at the sound of the hated nickname. Then she relaxed again and offered him a sugar-sweet smile.

"Hello, John. It has been a while. How's your shoulder? And no, I didn't know about your ability to activate Ancient devices, and if I did, I wouldn't manipulate you like this. And the Stargate address you keep writing actually does have seven symbols instead of six, so it's not just you losing your mind."

And she breezed past the couch and its gaping denizen, following Rodney into the kitchen.

"Tell ya what, I didn't miss that," the stranger muttered.

"Nobody does," Daniel sympathized. He met that dark gaze as it swung back to him and held out his hand. "Daniel Jackson."

"John Sheppard," came the response, the introduction and handshake more reflex than any attempt at social pleasantries. "I hear tell you're the guy to go to if I wanna know what the hell's going on with my psycho power."

Daniel grimaced at that. "Well, I don't know what Dr. McKay's been telling you, but I can't just take a look at you and tell you everything you need to know. We really have no idea of how the power works or how it reacts to certain outside influences."

"So, for all your complaints, it really is... magic." Sheppard studied him in challenge. Daniel shrugged helplessly.

"People are fond of putting labels on things we don't understand or are afraid of," he answered. "Giving something a name helps us cope with it, gives us the sense of control over it. To be politically correct, calling it just 'power' is about as accurate as we're ever going to get, because power is everything it is and nothing more."

"Huh." Sheppard tilted his head to the side and looked at Daniel closer than before, as if the archaeologist had only just proven himself worthy of paying attention to. "You know, that's the best explanation I've gotten so far for that."

"Well, as much as McKay might think I'm kind of... superfluous, to use his word, I do actually do some good." Daniel allowed himself a self-deprecating smile. Sometimes he had to wonder how far off-base McKay's less-than-flattering claims were. Still, with Sheppard suddenly feeling very hopeful, he knew better than to admit to it.

"Right. So you know why I have those- attacks?" He grimaced as he said the word, not liking the implication.

"Where you start writing the same Stargate address? Not really. As near as I can tell, your power and your activation ability sort of crossed paths, and got tangled up with one another."

"Yeah, that's what Rodney was saying."

"The first time was in the basement?" Daniel asked. When Sheppard grunted an agreement, he went on. "It's possible your activation ability somehow tapped into the Ancient devices McKay keeps down there, and your power- for lack of a better word- downloaded the device's information into your mind."

"We already went through everything in the basement. There's nothing interesting down there." Sheppard massaged his temple in a way Daniel easily recognized- he'd used too much of his power today, probably trying to keep up with Rodney's demands by activating Ancient devices. If the theories were right, turning on the things was using Sheppard's power in a secondhand way. The man was done in for the day.

They talked for a few minutes, Sheppard explaining the details of the attacks and the stuff downstairs, literally talking himself to sleep. He finally nodded off again and Daniel left him to sleep off the exhaustion and wandered into the kitchen. Teyla Emmagan, the Athosian woman he had met once, was pouring packets of cocoa into mugs of steaming water.

"He's exhausted," he told them. "If we try to get him to do something else for us today he'll crash and sleep for a week."

McKay's brows furrowed in consternation. "I told him to tell me if he was getting tired," he said irritably. He glanced at Elizabeth, who gave a small shrug.

"Well, the important thing is that everything's already been turned on. We can do the rest without him." Daniel glanced at the Keeper. "I assume you have the equipment...?"

McKay snorted in answer and headed out of the kitchen. Daniel paused for just a moment, accepting a mug of hot cocoa from Teyla, before following. Rodney would have his coffeemaker already bubbling away downstairs.

He stopped just outside the kitchen, cocoa nearly splashing his hand at the abrupt motion. He leaned back carefully, trying not to attract attention. Unaware of his audience, McKay was unfolding a blanket he'd retrieved from somewhere and tucking it around Sheppard. The man mumbled in his sleep and turned into the touch. McKay's rush of quiet affection made Daniel smile.

Then the Keeper glanced up and saw him. Clearly flustered, he snapped at Daniel, scowled at Sheppard, and sneered at the house to top it all off. He then stormed off. Daniel followed at a more sedate pace.

An empath learned very early on in life that some things were better left untouched.