Archive of Our Own ^beta

The night's so long it hurts
--The Tragically Hip, "My Music at Work"

It was all Carson's fault.

Get out of the infirmary, lass, he'd said. Go and meet people. Get to know the good folks you'll be working with. You've been here nearly a month, and I don't even think you know the first names of anyone here other than Dr. Weir and the infirmary staff. It's a shame, that is. You'll never make friends that way. At least go to the mess for some tea! All with his lovely Scottish accent and his smiling blue eyes full of gentle concern, of course, which made refusing him nearly as impossible as refusing her dad had always been.

So Jennifer Keller had dutifully left the safe anonymity of the infirmary and gone to the mess, even though it was so late that there would probably be no one for her to meet anyway. She didn't even really like tea.

But she'd walked through the doors, and right into what looked like a small party. The four members of SG-1 who had arrived on the Odyssey for a special mission about a day ago, and all of Sheppard's team, as well as Lieutenant O'Neill and Major Lorne were sitting around three of the mess tables that had been shoved together, talking and laughing and all drinking something that was most likely very alcoholic. And they all shut up the second they saw her.

"Um," Jennifer said as they all turned to look at her at once. She forced on a smile, feeling her face heat up and wondering if it was possible to die of a terminal case of awkward. She gestured desperately in the vague direction of the kitchen. "Sorry! Sorry, so sorry--I didn't know anyone else was in here! It's late, and Carson kicked me out of the infirmary. I was, uh, going to get tea?" And wasn't it just the story of her life, that she should be banished from the one place she felt she belonged to go 'meet people', only to find that the people she met didn't actually want her around.

Her entire university career had been like this: always being where she wasn't wanted. She should have never listened to Carson. She should have stayed in the infirmary, or just gone to her room.

"Yeah. So, right. Tea. Um, carry on." She attempted a laugh that came out weak and creaking, her skin so hot it felt like it was going to peel off the bone. "I'll be out of your hair in a minute." She turned away, wishing that she'd undone her ponytail so at least she'd have something to hide her face.

"You know you're welcome to join us, doc." That was one of the SG-1 team, grinning at her as if he really meant it. She was pretty sure his name was Cameron Mitchell, but she'd barely met him. Lieutenant-Colonel Carter and Doctor Jackson she knew better, but only by reputation; she'd never met them in person. She didn't know the woman with the pigtails at all, except Jennifer thought the way she kept staring at Doctor Jackson, kind of sideways, was weird.

"We would very much enjoy your company," Teyla said with one of her warm, generous smiles (and she did know people's first names! Ha!). And Jennifer felt better for all of three seconds.

And then, "You can have my seat," Carter said. She stood up like she was born graceful, though Jennifer could easily see the dark half-circles under her eyes. "I was just going to turn in, actually." She smiled in a way that was both like an apology and a shared joke to the other people around the table. "It's been a long day."

"Longer for some than for others," McKay said, with a smugness that made no sense, except that it obviously did to Carter, the other Lieutenant-Colonel guy she thought was called Mitchell, and Sheppard, because all three of them either shook their heads or rolled their eyes. Carter did both.

"Long enough for everyone, Rodney," Carter said, smiling sweetly but with a bite to it. She nodded at the table. "Goodnight."

"Don't go!" That was the woman Jennifer didn't know, with the pigtails. "Come on, Sam--I was just telling everyone about this fabulous Goa'uld drinking game."

"Maybe some other time," Sam said, as gracefully as she moved. Jennifer watched her leave to a chorus of 'goodnights' from the other people at the table, sure she'd chased the woman away and wishing she could just sink into the floor.

"Well, she's a spoilsport," Pigtails sniffed. She took a drink, then smiled enormously at Jennifer. "Sit down. Maybe you'll be less boring, anyway."

"Vala," Jackson said with a mild warning in his voice. At least it meant Jennifer knew her name now. Vala for her part looked a little guilty.

"Stop just standing there," Ronon grunted. Not loudly, but still enough to make her jump. He stretched a long leg and nudged one of the empty chairs that had been abandoned when the tables were moved.

Jennifer sat down, mostly because she didn't know what else to do. She'd already ruined the party, she was certain. She didn't think fleeing at this point would help.

"Great to have you, doc." That was Lieutenant O'Neill, who was sitting at the end of the third table, slouched over so much his back looked like a letter 'C'. "The more the merrier." He didn't sound all that merry, Jennifer thought, wondering if he'd been one of the people she'd heard laughing. He uncoiled his body, taking a long drink and leaning back until his chair tilted onto two legs.

Doctor Jackson watched the Lieutenant wordlessly, then looked away.

"You really shouldn't be drinking," Jennifer blurted to O'Neill. "I mean," she stammered when he looked at her with a blandness that was somehow terrifying, "I mean, alcohol. It's really, really bad for adolescent brains." She swallowed. "Adolescent brain growth. And you're an adolescent, now, even though you mentally an adult," she added, because he was a clone of a Colonel or General or something (if she wasn't confusing his medical records with someone else's, since God only knew weirder things had happened to people at the SGC). "So, um, you really shouldn't be drinking," she finished, her voice going quieter and quieter. O'Neill wouldn't stop staring.

"Technically," O'Neill said flatly, "I was an adolescent before you were born."

"Actually, that was Jack O'Neill, Jonathan," Jackson said. He sounded a little bit exasperated. "She's right--you haven't finished growing yet. You should probably ease up on the beer."

"Like you care," Jonathan O'Neill shot back with surprising viciousness. He thumped his chair back down onto all four legs and shoved away from the table. "Fine," he spat. He pulled himself to his feet, all adolescent awkwardness, and Jennifer wondered if he was drunk, if that would explain his inexplicable fury at Jackson. O'Neill grinned at everyone, but there was so much bitterness in it that it made his face look like a predator. "Try not to have too much fun without me." And he turned and stalked off before anyone could even really say goodnight to him, and he didn't look back, either. Just went through the doorway and was gone.

"Oh, God," Jennifer groaned. She put her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I don't know why I said anything."

"No, it's all right," Jackson said. "You were right. We shouldn't have given him anything. It's just…." He closed his eyes for a moment, like he was getting a headache, then rubbed one of his eyes behind his glasses. "I think I'd better go too," he said. The smile he offered was more real than O'Neill's had been, but horribly sad all the same.

"Want company?" Vala asked him. She leered, until Jackson turned to look at her, and then her face fell, became serious. "Just company, I mean," she said.

"No thank you, Vala," Jackson said with tight courtesy. "Goodnight everyone." The rest of the table all echoed 'Night,' back at him, and Mitchell raised his glass in a mock toast. Vala gave Jackson a little wave, then propped her chin up on a palm.

Ronon clapped Jennifer on the back, making her jump a second time. "Not your fault," he said. "The lesser O'Neill's a kid. Kids are crazy."

Jennifer looked up at him, blinking. "You call him 'the lesser O'Neill'?"

"I taught him that," McKay said. He smiled at Ronon.

"And I told you not to use it," Sheppard said pointedly, looking between McKay and Ronon with narrowed eyes. "It's not nice."

Ronon shrugged. "It's funny."

The table went silent after that, and Jennifer looked around, at the seven other people and how most of them appeared to be about to leave. "I'd like to hear about that drinking game!" Jennifer said in a rush to Vala, because she couldn't bear the idea of everyone's night sucking now because of her, and of maybe having to see them in the morning and having to look at the disdain or annoyance or--worse--pity on their faces. For the stupid girl who'd ruined their evening. It'd sounded like they were having such a good time.

"Wonderful!" Vala brightened up like someone had switched on a light inside her, bobbing upright, then leaning across the table to snag the nearest pitcher. "This is the most fantastic game, I promise. Guaranteed to get you absolutely shit-faced in no time." She tilted the pitcher to get a better look at the contents. "We're going to need more beer."

"Um," Lorne said. He threw a glance at Mitchell, who raised his eyebrows in response. "It's pretty late, maybe we should--"

"Oh, no, no, no, we definitely should not," Vala said decisively. She poured the remainder of the pitcher into her glass. "I'll tell you how the game works, and then you can get us more beer." Once her glass was full, she put both her hands around it and pushed it to nearly arms' length, as solemn as if she were enacting a ritual, though her eyes were sparkling. Jennifer found herself leaning forward a little, in spite of herself.

"All right," Vala said, her grin wide and wicked as if she were just about to tell a ghost story. "It works like this. One person tells everyone about something they didn't do--generally lying, of course--and anyone who actually has done the thing has to drink."

McKay blinked at her. "That's it? How do you know when the game's over?"

Vala blinked back at him, as if that were perfectly obvious. "When the symbiot has to heal the host of alcohol poisoning."

"If the storyteller lies, how do you know the other players are not lying as well?" Teyla asked. "Would not everyone claim they had never done the thing either, so they wouldn't have to drink?"

"Sounds like a game on Sateda," Ronon said, while Vala was drawing breath to answer. "Only everyone took turns telling about their kills, and you had to drink if you couldn't match it." He grinned ferally. "The new recruits would always end up on the floor."

"Charming." McKay grimaced. Even Sheppard winced a little.

"It sounds like 'I never' too," Lorne said, then seemed a little startled when everyone else looked at him. "You know--where one person says they haven't done stuff, and everyone else has to drink if they have." He shrugged. "I played that in college a few times."

"I've played something like that too," McKay said, nodding. "Only we called it 'ten fingers,' because the game only lasted until someone had been forced to drink ten times. The first person to do that lost."

"Or won, depending," Sheppard said.

"Lost, definitely," McKay said.

"You played drinking games?" Lorne sounded genuinely amazed. McKay gave him one of his withering glares, something Jennifer had already received more than once.

"I did go to university, Major," McKay said.

"Yeah," Lorne said. "But you need friends for--"

"So, are we gonna play this or not?" Mitchell cut in. He rubbed his hands together. "Sounds like fun."

"Great!" Vala lifted her empty pitcher and gestured with it. "Rodney, why don't you and Evan be dears and get us more alcohol. We'll wait until you get back." She smiled at Jennifer. "The pretty blonde girl can start."

***

"I have never been to Earth," Teyla said serenely, smiling when everyone except Ronon had to drink. Evan had gotten her with 'I've never been an Athosian', though that was admittedly pretty lame. Ronon had roared with laughter after he'd said he'd never been bitten by some kind of animal Evan couldn't pronounce, and Teyla had slit her eyes at him and drank. Evan figured the payback was only fair.

"I've never had sex with an alien," McKay said, grinning at John with more than a hint of malice in it. John sneered at him and drank. So did Vala, which was a surprise to no one. Evan Lorne looked at his half-full glass of Athosian beer and sighed inwardly, not sure if he wanted to be less drunk than he knew he was, or more. He'd thought he'd led an interesting life, but it was nothing compared to the other people sitting around the table. With the exception of the new doctor, that was, who was still on her first glass.

"I've never built a nuclear bomb in sixth grade," John said, smiling coldly at McKay, who glowered back at him but dutifully took another gulp.

Evan wasn't entirely sure when the game had devolved into John trying to get McKay off-his-ass drunk, and everyone else trying to do the same to John and Teyla. It was kind of funny to watch, except that most of the things John had done--ridden in a spacecraft, nearly died in a spacecraft, nearly succumbed to an alien virus, nearly been killed by an ancient trap, nearly been killed by alien bugs, fought the Wraith, been captured off-world, had his mind screwed with, captured a Goa'uld, flown an F-302--Cameron had done as well. And Cameron was at least a year behind John in gaining an alcohol tolerance.

It wasn't that Evan was worried about Cameron, really. It was just that…well, okay, he was worried about Cameron. The only other time he'd seen Cameron really drunk had been over a year ago, and the hangover had lasted two days. But mostly he was worried that Cameron would say something like 'I was never a baby', or 'my childhood was never spent as a toaster', and then John would drink and Evan wouldn't be able to explain it. He'd tried to end the game more than once, but he'd been overridden or ignored every time.

"I've never had a threesome," Evan said, because it was his turn after McKay. That wasn't true, but it was worth lying just to see who would drink. Vala did, which still wasn't a surprise to anyone ('Every time you have sex with a symbiot in your head, it's a three-way'), but so did Teyla, which was a little surprising, and so did McKay, which Evan couldn't believe at all.

"What's a 'threesome'?" Ronon asked.

"Sex with two other people," Keller supplied, then blushed, then giggled.

"At the same time?"

"Yes," McKay snapped at him.

Ronon drank.

"And don't look at me like that," McKay snapped some more at John's mild surprise. "It was in university." He pulled himself up grandly, which might have worked better if he hadn't listed so badly Teyla had to shove him upright. "I'm allowed to have a mysterious past too, you know."

"It's not mysterious if you tell everyone about it," John pointed out.

"And don't," Ronon said, and everyone laughed.

Cameron was leaning against Vala like a sleepy puppy; she seemed to be enjoying it. He lifted his glass a little unsteadily, though at least he didn't drink from it again. "I've never had sex," he said, and grinned.

Everyone else drank. Then everyone else stared at him.

"What?" Cameron said, blinking slowly. He pulled himself carefully away from Vala until he was more-or-less steady in his chair. Everyone was still looking at him. "What?"

McKay was gaping. "You do realize you just outed yourself as a virgin, right?"

Cameron blinked again. "Oh." He grinned blearily. "Whoops?"

"You can lie in 'I Never'," Evan reminded the rest of them, making his voice cold, hoping that they'd buy it, that McKay would get the implicit command to back the hell away.

But, "I didn't lie," Cameron said, looking perplexed, and Evan kept himself from closing his eyes in resignation. "What's the big deal?"

"Well," Vala said, looking about as gobsmacked as everyone else, "I suppose it's rather hard to believe. Given, well, your age and your…." She made a complex gesture at Cameron that was both vague and yet somehow obscene, "Attributes."

"Attributes?" Cameron asked. He looked down at his chest like he expected to find a stain on his shirt.

"The 'big deal' is that you've never had sex!" McKay exclaimed.

Cameron slowly clenched his fists on the tabletop, looking like it was finally dawning on him that he'd admitted something really, really stupid. "Ma--" he cut himself off, casting a sidelong glance at Evan. "My dad told me that it was better to wait until you were with someone you really cared about."

"Wow," Keller said, and Evan couldn't tell if she was horrified or in awe. "And you've never met anyone you liked enough to lose your virginity to?"

Cameron shrugged. He licked his lips, looked down at his nearly-empty glass. "I was busy."

"How busy could you possibly be?" McKay interjected incredulously. "Ow!" he hollered a second later, then whirled on John. "What the hell was that for?"

"He's not that old, McKay," John said warningly. His fists were clenched as well, and his eyes were dark and angry and boring into McKay's in a way that Even really, really hoped got through to him, drunk as he was. Because any second McKay was going to inadvertently make Cameron admit that he was a virgin because he'd only been in a body even capable of having sex for about five and a half years, with two of them under near-constant supervision, and nearly all of a third spent in a hospital.

"I know that!" McKay shot back with alcohol-fueled belligerence. "But that's not the point! You're 'not that old' either"--Evan could hear the air quotes--"and you were--"

McKay stopped speaking as abruptly as if John had hit him. His face went absolutely white.

John's eyes widened. "Rodney?"

"Doctor McKay?" Keller asked, leaning towards him anxiously. "Doctor McKay?" she repeated, looking truly concerned when he didn't answer. "Are you all right? Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

"No," McKay said, though it came out far too fast. "I'm fine. I'm just fine." He got up from the table so fast that he tipped his empty glass over, sending it rolling towards Vala. "I have to go."

John stood as well, looking just as concerned as Keller. "Rodney," he said, and reached for him. McKay dodged out of the way like John was on fire. He all but ran out of the mess, like something awful was coming after him.

"What got into him?" Ronon asked.

John turned back to the table, giving everyone a lopsided smile that was as false as the chuckle that went with it. "He's probably just going to be sick or something." He gestured with obviously studied nonchalance towards the doors McKay had just fled through. "I'll go make sure he gets to his room."

"Sure," Evan said, a little numbly, as shocked as everyone else by what had just happened.

John smiled and nodded and left to the standard well-wishes, sauntering like he had all the time in the world. Evan was absolutely certain that he started running the second he was out of sight.

***

"I'm not home," Jonathan O'Neill hollered through the closed door. A loud thump came from directly behind it, making Daniel start, then another, quieter one, probably from the floor.

Daniel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, momentarily leaning his head against the metal. The double thumps kept repeating. "It's Daniel," he said, though he was sure Jonathan was perfectly aware of that. "I'd like to come in, please."

"No."

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. "SG-1 is leaving in the morning, so if you want to talk, we should probably do it now."

The thumps stopped. Daniel could practically feel Jonathan's reluctance as the door slid open.

Jonathan was glaring at him, holding a baseball. He turned and walked back to his narrow bed, with Daniel silently following him. Jonathan climbed onto his bed and sat with his back against the wall. He threw the baseball at the closed door, catching it when it rebounded against the floor and came back at him.

"So, talk," Jonathan said, staring intently at the wall.

Daniel sighed. "I'm sorry."

Jonathan quirked his eyebrows, but didn't respond. The room fell into silence except for the thumps of the baseball.

"Well, that was enlightening," Jonathan said at last, still looking at the door.

"I don't know what else to say," Daniel said honestly. This would have been so much easier if it had been the other O'Neill (the real O'Neill, his mind kept supplying, no matter how unfair Daniel knew it was), but of course if this were Jack O'Neill, there would be no problem between them in the first place. "I'm sorry. I really am. I know--I know this isn't what you wanted, but I can't do better. I'm sorry."

"Wow," Jonathan said. The ball thumped. "You really suck when you don't know what to say." The ball thumped again.

"Would you stop with the damn ball?" Daniel barked.

Jonathan caught it smoothly and turned to finally look at Daniel. "So, that's it, huh?" he said. He slid off the bed so he was standing. "You act like I don't even exist for three fucking years, and then you're sorry that this isn't what I wanted?" He threw the ball with sudden, vicious rage across the room. It bounced into his desk then onto the floor and got lost in a corner. "You know what I want?" He stepped closer to Daniel, his thin, angular face contorted in fury. "I want my life back--my real life, not this fucking second childhood bullshit! I want my team!"

"You have a team," Daniel said. "I was--"

"Shut up!" Jonathan gave Daniel a hard shove, and Daniel was forced back a few steps. Jonathan didn't have the height or strength of Jack O'Neill yet, but he was still strong enough. "You know what team I'm talking about." He glared at Daniel, his expression so raw Daniel wanted to look away, knew he couldn't. He'd forfeited that right as soon as he'd stepped through the door.

"Did you really think I'd stop caring about you, Daniel?" Jonathan said, voice quiet now, which somehow only made the pain driving his anger more evident, made everything worse. "Did you think the fact I'm a copy would make any difference?"

"No," Daniel said. He took a breath. "I hoped you'd understand--"

"Understand what?" Jonathan snarled. "That I'm not even worth a fucking e-mail?"

"That you're not Jack O'Neill!" Daniel shouted, so loudly and harshly that Jonathan actually blinked, bobbed back a little. "I'm sorry," Daniel said, more calmly. He took off his glasses so he could rub his eyes. "I know--It's not fair. It's not fair to you. But you stopped being Jack O'Neill the second his consciousness was copied into another body." He lowered his hands, still holding his glasses. "For God's sake, Jonathan, you're eighteen years old! I can't--I can't think of you that way! I can't feel that way about you. You're a different person!"

Jonathan's eyes went big and hurt, and then dark with renewed anger. "I'm not a different person!" He jabbed roughly at his temple with a forefinger. "In here! I'm the same in here! Why can't you get that?"

Daniel shook his head. "I can't, Jonathan," he said. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"Can't?" Jonathan sneered. "Or don't want to?"

Daniel slipped his glasses back onto his face, mostly to give himself a little time. When he raised his head again it felt almost like it had when he was facing a Goa'uld, or an Ori--never show fear, or weakness.

"You're not Jack," he said again. Which said everything.

Jonathan looked at him, and for a second his eyes were wide and liquid with disappointment, with betrayal do deep he seemed far younger than even the few years Loki had given him. Then his expression became as frozen and distant as the black night beyond the windows. "I guess that's it, then," he said. Jonathan's lips jerked in one of Jack's non-smiles, then he turned away. "Okay, heart-to-heart's over," he snapped. "Thanks for stopping by. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

"Jonathan…." Daniel reached for him--just his shoulder, somewhere safe--but Jonathan jerked, whirled around, and Daniel saw something in his eyes harden, just before Jonathan put his hands on either side of Daniel's head, just above the neck. Daniel didn't stop him.

"You fucking bastard," Jonathan said softly. And when he pulled Daniel's head down, he let him. And when Jonathan kissed him, Daniel kissed him back.

He owed him that much.

Jonathan kissed like Jack did--of course he did--but the angle was wrong, and Jonathan didn't taste right, didn't even smell right: close, so close, but different, off, and all Daniel could feel was wrongness, betrayal, and he had to push away. Jonathan didn't try to hold him.

"I'm sorry," Daniel said again.

"No you're not," Jonathan said. He patted Daniel's chest twice, sharp and dismissive. "Well, that was fun," he said with false joviality. He didn't smile. "See you around, Danny." He turned without waiting for an answer and climbed back onto his bed. This time he lay on his back, hands on his stomach, looking pointedly away.

"Jonathan…." Daniel said, but he didn't know how to finish the sentence, what to say to him.

Daniel had never really known what to say to him.

"Get out, Daniel," Jonathan said.

Daniel nodded, though Jonathan couldn't see it. "Goodbye, Jonathan."

Jonathan smirked. "Whatever."

***

"I'm afraid that I do not really understand," Teyla said. She had her hands on the table which--not that she wished to admit it to herself--were to help keep her completely upright. She hadn't failed to notice how many 'I never' statements had been intended for her specifically, and it appeared that the group's effort had worked better than she would have hoped. But it wasn't her embarrassing state of inebriation that was causing the confusion. "It is uncommon for someone Colonel Mitchell's age to have chosen to so distance himself from his people, though not unheard of among the Athosians. But if I am to understand correctly, among your people it is cause for…shame?"

Mitchell had his elbows on the table, with his hands over his eyes. He seemed to have sobered greatly since John and Rodney had left. "I didn't think it was that big a deal." He moved his hands and cast Major Lorne a glare that to Teyla seemed strangely accusatory. "My dad kind of made it seem like a good thing, to wait."

Vala looked at Mitchell in obvious surprise. "Didn't anyone else explain it to you? Or, um, offer?" She looked like she very much wanted to make an offer herself, and Teyla knew quite well of what kind it would be. And found herself hoping that either Vala would not, or that Mitchell would refuse, with a ferocity that surprised her.

"Vala!" Keller sounded horrified, though perhaps she was merely shocked at Vala's brazenness.

Mitchell shifted his gaze to his nearly-empty glass, which he clasped in front of him with both his hands, looking at it as if that were preferable to meeting anyone's eyes. "I grew up kind of isolated," he said. "And then it just…never came up." He shrugged. "No one really mentioned it."

Vala looked truly astonished at that, but Lorne cleared his throat before she could speak again. "To answer your question, Teyla," he said, "yes, in most of the cultures on Earth, the ideal is for a woman to be a virgin until she's married, and for a man to lose his virginity as soon as possible. It's…" He looked for a moment like the best word eluded him. "Unusual for men to be virgins after the age of twenty or so, I guess."

Keller snorted. "Unusual for women too, really." She sounded oddly bitter, and was addressing her glass, rather than the rest of them at the table, much as Mitchell had. "Guys want you to know exactly what you're doing, but they don't want you to have actually done anything with anyone else." She shook her head. "Try and figure that one out." She seemed to be speaking from personal, unhappy experience.

Ronon looked at Keller. "Earth people are stupid," he said, as if directly to her. Teyla was in complete accord with him. He finished his glass in a steady series of large swallows, then thumped it on the table. "On Sateda, someone choosing to walk the far path would be honored." He wiped his mouth with the side of his massive hand. "And feared."

"Feared?" Vala asked. She looked at Mitchell, as if he had somehow changed between one sentence and the next. "Feared for what?"

"My people call it the far path also," Teyla said, hoping to explain. "We do not fear those who choose to walk it, though we also honor them." She didn't add that they were pitied as well, because Mitchell would not enjoy hearing it. "Most often, it is undertaken by those who have lost dearly loved ones to the Wraith. They refuse intimate contact with others for a period of no more than three years, as part of their mourning."

"They did it that way in my home as well," Ronon grumbled his agreement. "But for longer. Like, ten years, sometimes."

Teyla looked at Ronon sharply. It hadn't occurred to her before this moment that he might have chosen the far path himself. It had been obvious that his ordeal as a Runner would have precluded intimacy of almost any kind, but she suddenly realized that he might be keeping to the path even now, when he no longer had to. Certainly she had seen him with no one in the city.

"Why do that?" It was Mitchell who voiced the question, and Teyla smiled inwardly, pleased that his interest might have overcome his evident sense of humiliation.

"Same reason you are," Ronon said, with an expression that implied Mitchell should have not needed to ask. "It keeps your strength and your attention focused on the enemy. Makes you a better warrior."

"Which is also why my people never walk the path for more than three years," Teyla added. "We feel it is unhealthy, both emotionally and spiritually, to hold ourselves apart for so long."

"It sounds sad," Keller said.

Ronon shrugged. "'Makes you stronger." He nodded his respect to Mitchell. "I never met anyone who walked the path for his whole life, though. That takes guts."

But Mitchell's response was just a quick shake of his head. "I didn't choose this. Well," he amended quickly, "I didn't choose it for that. I just…." His shrug was helpless. "Mostly, I had other things to think about."

Ronon just nodded in response to this, as if it were only an affirmation of his own thoughts. "Sure. Killing your enemies." He sat up straighter in his chair. "We have a saying--Many choose the path. But those the path chooses, walk the farthest."

"I would be honored, to end your journey," Teyla said to Mitchell, and then was astonished at her own boldness.

Lorne's eyes became huge, but they were no bigger than Mitchell's. Keller gasped.

"Wow," Vala said softly, blinking. "Not that I wasn't thinking it, but…."

"Um," Mitchell said. He stood, and Teyla cursed herself for a fool, for having offered something so precious so publicly, as if it weren't important, or she were not serious. Too much alcohol was still warming her veins, she realized, making her reckless. And it was too late to take the words back.

"That's really, really nice of you," Mitchell continued warily, "but…."

"I would be honored, too," Vala said, her voice already as low and caressing as a lover's.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Mitchell put his hands up, as if to hold back an attack. "Thanks. Honest. But I'm not on the market, okay? I'll…deal with this…thing some other time." He glanced at Vala, his mouth quirked ruefully. "Thanks for the drinking game." He gave a quick nod to the rest of them, then slapped Lorne on the back, perhaps harder than strictly necessary. "I'd better get to bed. See you all in the morning before the Odyssey leaves. 'Night."

He did not quite leave like a hunted animal, but it was close enough to make Teyla deeply regret having said anything.

The gathering broke up for good shortly after that. Vala murmured something about beauty sleep, and Keller said she should go to bed as well. Lorne was obviously concerned for Mitchell's well-being, and Teyla was certain he would make sure the Colonel returned safely to his quarters, if nothing else. Teyla had no idea where Vala went, but the woman seemed thoughtful, if a little sad.

"You shouldn't have made that offer," Ronon said to her, once everyone else had gone. They were both standing, about to leave. "It's up to him when he wants to return. It's wrong to tempt him."

"I was not tempting him, Ronon," Teyla said. She felt unaccustomedly stung by his accusation, which made her voice colder than it would normally have been. "I was giving him opportunity to leave the path. Among my people, to be separate for so long is a cause for sorrow, not admiration."

"You heard his stories," Ronon said. "It's made him a great warrior."

"But it has not made him happy," Teyla said.

Ronon's mouth crooked in a sneer. "Happiness doesn't mean anything to the Wraith."

"Without happiness," Teyla snapped, "there is no point in defeating the Wraith. There is no purpose to existence."

"I exist to kill Wraith," Ronon said.

"Perhaps that is enough for you," Teyla said, unable to believe it, "but it's not enough for me, or my people. I don't believe it's enough for Colonel Mitchell, either."

"Maybe your people are weak," Ronon retorted.

Teyla blinked, surprised at this sudden, unprovoked attack. "That was uncalled for, Ronon," she said simply. She forced herself to keep calm, despite the drink making her tongue loose and despite how close a different response lurked to her lips: that Ronon remind himself of how strong her people were by losing to her again. She knew he wanted to fight her in every taught line of his body, but Teyla had no interest in ending the night with violence. She wished she knew why Ronon suddenly did.

He stepped towards her, obviously thinking to crowd her with his much larger form, anger making his hands quiver at his sides. "Your people ran from the Wraith like cattle, until the Lanteans came, and now they cower on the Mainland, dependant on the city's protection. Your people are cowards."

Teyla felt her eyes widening in shock, before she narrowed them to slits. "And your people are all dead, or scattered to whatever planet would take them," she shot back, too hurt and angry to try to guard her words. "At least the Athosians have allies, and a future! And hope! What do you have but death and ashes?"

She saw his reaction in the way he suddenly seemed to tremble, though there was no outward sign of it, neither in his body nor the fathomless depths of his eyes. But for all that Teyla was certain she could have delivered no harsher blow than what her words had done, and she was immediately guilty and ashamed.

"Ronon," she said, and reached for him, but he stepped back, as if he couldn't bear her touch.

"I have vengeance," he said, voice black and hard as stone. "I've vowed to kill every Wraith in this galaxy, no matter what it takes. And I'm going to do it."

Those the path chooses, walk the farthest, Teyla remembered. Ronon had said it. And he had been a Runner for seven years.

She had thought he had taken the far path, by his words earlier. Now she knew she was right. And like Mitchell, he hadn't returned. And he thought she was being disrespectful of Mitchell's journey. And because of that, his own.

No wonder he was so angry.

"We are your friends, Ronon," Teyla said, speaking carefully. She didn't attempt to touch him again. "None of us will try to take you from the far path, if you wish to continue walking it." He merely stared at her, and she had no idea if he was listening, if her words meant anything to him at all. "But when you are ready, we will be here to welcome you home."

"I have no home," Ronon said. Then he turned and walked away. Teyla watched him go.

***

"Rodney! Rodney! Slow down! Hey! Your room's that way!"

Rodney ignored John completely. He just kept plowing on down the hallway, shoulders rounded and his head thrust forward like a bull.

"Rodney! MCKAY!"

John sighed and kept following. He had no idea where Rodney was going, except that it wasn't to his quarters. Maybe he was so drunk he'd forgotten where they were, though he didn't seem in that bad shape even though he was swaying a little. Rodney wanted to be alone, that much was obvious, but John had no intention of letting him, not after the way he'd left the mess. John would follow him all night, if he had to.

"MCKAY!"

Still, this was getting kind of old.

Rodney turned left down yet another corridor, and then finally into a transporter, and John sped up enough to slide in before the doors could shut. Rodney looked almost startled to see him there, then he kind of slumped, turned his head away. He hit a destination on the map and the doors closed.

When the doors opened again, John fell easily into step with Rodney. Rodney glanced at him again, then looked straight ahead. John thought he'd be angry, but Rodney looked miserable, stricken.

"What's the matter, Rodney?" John asked, making his voice gentle. But Rodney didn't answer him.

He recognized where they were going now, though--he'd taken this route to the fourth grounding station two years ago, the one that was a 'brisk walk' from the nearest transporter. He didn't have any good memories of this place, and he didn't really think Rodney did, either. He was a little surprised that Rodney had chosen to come here. Maybe it was just because it was out of the way.

A long, tense walk later, the doors to the station finally slid open. John felt the cold touch of a breeze and heard the whisper and slap of water hitting against the metal of the platform. It was so dark that the water was all but invisible, even under the orange glow of the city's lights along the wall. Rodney glanced at the repaired grounding station--John figured he couldn't stop himself--but went straight to the open space that led to the water and sat down, letting his feet dangle. And he put his face in his hands.

John walked to the railing, stood near him, but he didn't sit down. "What it is? What's wrong?" he asked.

Rodney pushed out a laugh that was a little too much like a sob, then twisted his head to look up at John. It was hard to make out his expression in the low light, but his teeth were bared and angry, though John didn't think the anger was directed at him. "How can you ask me that?" he snarled. "What do you think is wrong? I've been with you for three years, and tonight is the first time I realized I--" He broke off with a tiny, horrified noise, and put his face in his hands again. "How could you let me do that?" he asked. His voice was muffled, but John could still hear the disbelieving pain in it. "I--I didn't know…God, I didn't think--!" He shook his head, and his voice dropped, becoming small. "How could you let me?"

"Let you do what?" John asked, genuinely puzzled. He sat down next to Rodney and put his arm around him. Rodney stiffened as soon as John touched him, and John was tempted to pull away, to leave, even--it was more than evident Rodney didn't want him here--but John didn't move. "I don't understand, Rodney," he said. "You're not making any sense. What'd I let you do?"

Rodney dropped his hands, staring down at the water between his knees. He looked sick.

"I…." Rodney swallowed, visibly steeling himself. "I raped you," he said to the water. "And you didn't stop me."

John felt his eyes go wide. He knew his jaw dropped. "What?" He pulled his arm from Rodney's back so he could turn to gape at him, though it shifted his balance precariously towards the water just below. "You raped me? What the hell are you talking about?"

Rodney did look at him then, finally, his expression caught somewhere between anger and despair. "When we first met," he ground out, like each word hurt. "You…you invited me to fuck you. In the shower. And…." He swallowed, looked for a moment like he really would be sick, but he shook it off even as John reached for him again. "And I thought you were a PlayFriend. I thought it didn't matter, so I did." His voice dropped to a harsh murmur John could barely hear above the waves. "But you weren't a PlayFriend," he said simply.

John let out a breath. The breeze blew his hair back, smelling of salt and an alien sea. "No, I wasn't," he said. "But I was pretending to be one." He began to rub gentle circles on Rodney's back. Rodney always seemed to like it when he did that, especially when he was upset. "I knew what I was doing."

"Did you?" Rodney asked. "You were a virgin, weren't you?" He didn't wait for John's reply. "Of course you were." He swallowed heavily. "And your first time was with me. So I wouldn't kick you out."

John licked his lips. He kept rubbing Rodney's back while he thought of what to say. "Yes," he said finally, because it was the truth, it had happened exactly for that reason. "But that doesn't make it rape, Rodney. For Christ's sake, do you really think I would've let you do that to me?"

Rodney dropped his head, fixing his eyes again on the water. His hands were in tight fists. "You didn't have a choice, though, did you?" he said quietly. "You had to keep up the façade. You would've…." He swallowed. "You would've done anything. Anything I told you." His voice went quiet again. "You did do anything I told you."

"Jesus, Rodney." John sighed. He kept rubbing Rodney's back, but it was like the other man didn't feel it, or didn't want to acknowledge it. It was actually kind of aggravating. "It's true--you're right. I had a very clear agenda at the time which depended on me pulling off being a PlayFriend. And, yeah, that included the…." He winced. It was never easy talking about this stuff. "The sex. But, you have to understand, Rodney, I was okay with it. I even, I even did, um, research, you know? Beforehand. So when I offered, that time, I knew what it meant, what was going to happen."

Rodney turned to look at him again, his eyes luminous in the dim light, his expression bleak and sad. "So you were fully cognizant of the grim duty you had to perform in order to complete your objective." Rodney shook his head, then looked down at the water. "And that's meant to make it better?"

John took a breath. "It's meant to make it okay, Rodney," he said. "It's meant to get you to understand that what happened wasn't without my consent, all right?" He shook his head. He was really starting to hate this. "You didn't force me, Rodney. I asked. Yeah, I know I had an ulterior motive, but that's not the point." He moved his hand up to the back of Rodney's neck, squeezed gently. "I knew exactly what was going to happen. It was all right."

"I'm so sorry I didn't know," Rodney said, with the same terrible quiet that John would never normally associate with him. "I would--I would've made it better--"

John burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed when Rodney whirled on him, raising a hand to forestall the outburst he knew was coming. "It's just--I was a robot, Rodney. My first time didn't have to be 'special'. It didn't have to be anything other than a way to get you to keep me around." He smiled. "Rodney, I didn't care. Well," he amended quickly, when he saw Rodney's eyes widening again. "I did care. Of course I did. But I wasn't upset about it, okay?" He shrugged, shifting a little on the ledge, feeling kind of embarrassed. "Mostly, I was glad you liked it. That I was able to please you."

"So I'd keep you," Rodney said.

John nodded. "Yeah."

"Great," Rodney sighed. He rubbed the space between his eyes. "So you were glad that your whoring yourself out to me was successful. And the fact that I--I took your virginity without any regard for you as, as a person, was an acceptable trade-off, apparently." He made a horrible sound that was only vaguely like a laugh. "That's…that's good to know."

He stood clumsily, probably because of the cold and the remnants of the alcohol, then turned away from John and started to lumber sadly across the platform.

"Rodney!" John followed him, grabbed his arm. "Rodney! You're twisting it around! It wasn't like that!"

Rodney stopped, head down, still looking away. "Of course it was like that," Rodney said. "It was exactly like that. God." He shuddered with revulsion, and John could tell it was all directed inwardly, at himself. "Why did you stay?" Rodney looked at John then, finally, his eyes dark and empty as the depth of the night around them. "How--how could you do that to yourself?"

"God damn it!" John burst out, genuinely angry now. "How many times do I have to say it before it gets through your thick skull? I didn't mind, okay? It was fine! I had no problem with, with losing my virginity or whatever. It…." He stopped, because Rodney's eyes were big and appalled and miserable in the orange light, and John realized what he hadn't said, the most important thing.

He made himself smile. "It was good, Rodney," he said gently. "You made it good for me, I promise. Great, even. I just…no, I did recognize it, at the time. I just didn't have the vocabulary to process it." He let go of Rodney's arm, so he could reach up and cup his face, slide his hand around to the back of Rodney's neck. "I remember being surprised at how much I liked it. I was hoping we could do it again."

Rodney blinked at him, expression hopeful. "Really?" he asked, horribly, heartbreakingly uncertain. "It was…you liked it?"

"Yes, Rodney," John said patiently. "And I kind of liked you, too. Still do." And he kissed Rodney's shocked grin.

***

Cameron walked along the corridor with his hand trailing along the wall, mostly to keep from lurching into it. His only objective when he left the mess was to get as far away from Vala and Teyla--and Evan; he was really fucking angry at Evan--as possible, and it was only now he was realizing that he might be a little too drunk to make it all the way back to his quarters, and that was even if he remembered where the hell they were.

He'd barely met Teyla, though he could recognize that she was a formidable woman and someone he'd probably like a lot when he got to know her. And he already liked Vala, even with wanting to strangle her at least half the time. But that didn't make him feel any less like a prize bull at an auction, with the way they were both looking at him. He figured he'd better hightail it out of the mess before Keller upped the bidding. Or Ronon did.

Cameron shook his head, then regretted it a little when the corridor didn't entirely stop when he did. Had either of them really expected he'd say 'yes' right there and just go off with them? Maybe they thought he'd be flattered, but all he'd felt was cornered and self-conscious as hell. So he ran.

He groped his way down another side-corridor and then stopped, trying to figure out if he'd managed to go in a full circle or not. He didn't remember making four left or right turns in a row, but the walls looked exactly alike and it was a little hard to remember. Cameron wondered if there was a reason the Ancients made every hallway in the city the same. Maybe they were just really into symmetry.

"Like Ikea, only without Swedes," he murmured, then chuckled, then realized it wasn't funny. Really, he'd been in okay shape until he'd stood up.

"Cam?"

Cameron startled, tried to whirl around, and ended up kind of tangling his feet together. He fell back heavily against the wall and slid to the floor, looking up at Evan Lorne. The hallway started a slow circle behind him.

Evan was wincing, probably from watching the acrobatics. "Ow," he commented. "You okay?"

Cameron scowled at him. Evan held out his hand, but Cameron ignored it. Instead he put his arms on his bent knees, staring at the opposite wall, which looked just like the one he was leaning against, of course.

"Go away," he said.

Evan dropped his hand. "Well," he said quietly, "I guess I deserve that." Cameron watched out of the corner of his eye as Evan slid carefully down the wall until they were sitting side-by-side on the floor, not quite close enough to touch.

"I'm sorry," Evan said.

"I wish I could say, 'that's okay, Evan, I know you didn't mean to tell me something when I was a kid that would end up with me making a complete ass of myself'," Cameron said, glaring at the wall. "But the thing is, I keep thinking, what else did you tell me and I believed, that was also total crap?"

Evan licked his lips. "Is this really a conversation you want to have in the middle of the hallway?"

Cameron snorted. "There's no one around." There wasn't--outside of the mess it felt like they were walking through a mausoleum. It was either really late or really early, Cameron couldn't tell. "I trusted you," he said, because that was the point. That was the entire point, and why he was so angry. "I trusted you. I believed everything you told me. I always believed everything you told me. And look what happened."

Evan rubbed the back of his head. Cameron sensed more than he saw it, because he still wouldn't look at him. "I never lied to you, Cam," he said simply. "To either of you. And what I said…what I told you about caring about someone else…I meant it. I don't regret telling you that."

Cameron smirked ruefully. "Well, I kind of regret you telling me that."

"I know," Evan said. "I'm sure you do. But…I was trying to protect you, Cameron." He let out a gusting breath. "I think I might be too drunk for this," he said. He turned his head to look at Cameron full-on, but Cameron kept staring at the wall. "You're seven years old! And--and I know that's not your physical or mental age anymore, but, come on! You can't expect…you needed some time--"

"To what?" Cameron exploded. He finally turned to face Evan as well, too furious not to. He gestured violently at the direction they'd both come, meaning the mess hall, the people who had been in there with them. "To figure out that I'm some kind of freak? I thought everyone waited, because of what you told me!"

"That's not my fault!" Evan said, not loudly but still forceful. "I didn't mean that you had to be in love, Cam. I meant that you had to like the person, at least. Trust them--"

"You said it should be someone you really cared about," Cameron said. He smiled acidly. "I had exact memory at the time, Remember? And you said 'really cared about'. That's not like," he spat. "That's setting the bar really fucking high." He turned his head to look back at the wall.

Evan let out another long sigh. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't…I didn't know you'd take it literally like that. I just--" He cut himself off abruptly, then also moved his gaze to the other wall again. He was silent for a long moment. "I was trying to remember what my mom told me, when I'd asked her, as a kid," Evan said finally. "God, Cam, you were three! You were still watching Bambi, remember? And then you ask me when it would be okay to have sex?" He shook his head, as if he didn't like the memory. Maybe Cameron had just embarrassed Evan, at the time. Talking about sex seemed to do that to people; Cameron had managed to learn that much. "I gave you the best answer I could," Evan said. "I'm sorry that it didn't turn out to be the best thing now."

Cameron bent his elbows so he could put his hands in his hair. He closed his eyes. "They think I'm nuts. Even Rodney, who knows about me. And Vala's going to tell Daniel and Sam and Teal'c the first chance she gets." He closed his eyes. He'd never felt ashamed about it before tonight, and now he figured he'd never lose the humiliation. "I wish I'd never asked you," he said.

He could hear Evan swallow in the quiet. "I'm sorry," Evan said again. "I did the best I could." He paused, maybe hesitated. Cameron hadn't opened his eyes, so he couldn't see Evan's face. "I'm only human, Cam."

Cameron's eyes shot open, and he dropped his hands. He looked at Evan, who was looking back at him, expression open and sad. He looked the same as he always had. "I know that," Cameron said, his voice strange and thick to his own ears. He did know that. Of course he did. How could Major Evan Lorne be anything but human? Cameron began to push himself upright, scowling at how much more easily Evan got to his feet. This time Evan didn't offer to help, just grabbed him by the arm and unceremoniously dragged him upward.

It gave Cameron a completely unwelcome flash of memory--being a quadruped, carried under one of Evan's arms. And how it had felt: secure, protected, and other things, things that might have been comfort or happiness, but were too ephemeral now to name. Somehow it just made him angrier.

He shrugged Evan's hand off his arm. "I'm going to bed," he told him, and stalked off down the corridor. He still wasn't walking smoothly, but at least he wasn't lurching anymore, and the floor stayed steady when he looked at it. Seemed like he was going to make it to his quarters after all.

"You're going the wrong way," Evan said.

Wordlessly, Cameron turned and followed him.

***

Rodney didn't believe him.

It was obvious in every movement, in the tightness of his mouth, in the way Rodney kept surreptitiously glancing at him as they walked back from the pier, as if he expected John to show what he was really feeling at any moment. As if John would suddenly stop walking and shove him into a wall or something; accuse him of rape.

John had enough of it by the time they reached Rodney's quarters. Rodney stepped through the open door quickly, turning around as if they were meant to say their goodnights in the hallway, John wasn't meant to follow him in. And John looked at the misery and guilt on Rodney's face and was absolutely certain that Rodney figured this was it, they were done.

John pushed his way into Rodney's room, not caring when he sent Rodney stumbling backwards. At least Rodney's indignant 'hey!' sounded normal, like himself, instead of that awful, resigned silence.

"Let me guess," John snarled, getting right into Rodney's space, "you'd go and turn yourself in to Elizabeth this second, except that it would force you to reveal my past, and you don't want to do that to me. So instead you're going to tender your resignation, scurry back to Area 51 so I won't be reminded of how you violated me. And then you're going to and try to live with the guilt."

Rodney's eyes were huge and as liquid and blue as the ocean surrounding the city. "No! I--I wasn't…." He swallowed. "Do you, do you want me to do that? Go away?"

Would that make it better? was the underlying question, unspoken, and John made an incoherent noise of frustration. Then he grabbed Rodney around his upper arms, turned them both and shoved Rodney against the nearest wall.

"Ow," Rodney said, blinking at John. "What did--?"

"Shut up," John grit out. "Just shut up." He kissed him, dirty and purposeful. Rodney tensed and moved as if he wanted to push John away, but John still had his hands on his biceps, and Rodney didn't fight too hard. And John just kept kissing him, sliding his tongue along Rodney's teeth, laving the roof of his mouth, licking Rodney's own quiescent tongue until finally, finally, Rodney relaxed. John felt Rodney sigh into his mouth, a moist puff of air like defeat, and kiss him in return.

When they finally pulled apart, John leaned his temple against Rodney's, gratified that the other man was panting just as hard as he was, that he could feel Rodney's erection nudging his own through the layers of their uniform. "You didn't hurt me, Rodney," he said, every word distinct and clear, a low rumble against Rodney's cheek. "You have never done anything to me that I didn't want."

Rodney nodded stiffly, and John could hear him swallow. "I know…." he said, "I know you, you say that, but, it was your first time, and I didn't even think about it…."

John closed his eyes. He didn't have to look at Rodney to know what his expression would be. Rodney was transparent at the best of times; when he was upset it was like his soul was pouring out of his eyes. "How can I convince you, Rodney?" he asked helplessly. "What is it going to take?" He moved his hand to the side of Rodney's neck, feeling Rodney's breath, the distant murmur of his pulse under the warmth of his skin. "I remember it perfectly," he said. "And it was--" He stopped speaking, a slow smile curling his mouth. He stepped back, starting to unbutton his uniform shirt.

Rodney looked at him in confusion. "What--"

"I can show you," John said. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it in the general direction of the bed. Rodney was watching him, anxious and uncertain, still pressed against the wall as if he didn't think he had the right to move.

"I'll show you," John said again, making his voice gentle. He walked past Rodney, going to the bed, trailing his palm across Rodney's stomach as he went, feeling the muscles jump under his fingers. John sat down on the bed with his heels on the floor. "I'd started undressing myself, but you stopped me," he said. "You told me to wait, then you knelt between my legs and took off my boots." He looked up at Rodney, who had his eyes avidly fastened on him, and arched an eyebrow. "Well?"

Rodney blinked, then pushed himself away from the wall. He walked over to John slowly, then hesitantly kneeled. "I was impatient. You were taking too long…And I really wanted you." He said it like he was admitting a terrible secret.

John grinned. "I could hear that your heartbeat was elevated, see the flush on your skin, and I could tell how attracted to me you were." His cock was pressing uncomfortably against his fly, but he stayed the way he was, with his hands on either side of him on the bed, because that's how he'd been sitting three years ago. He didn't tell Rodney that at the time he'd hoped that Rodney's desire meant John would be able to stay, because he didn't want to remind Rodney that he'd had an ulterior motive. He just wanted Rodney to remember how attentive Rodney had been, how generous, to a creature he hadn't even thought was alive. "I liked how attracted to me you were," he said, making his voice sultry, and his grin widened when he saw Rodney's involuntary shudder.

Rodney finished shucking John's boots and shoved them aside, then rolled off John's socks and stuffed them into one of the boots. He looked up at John. "I took your pants off too, didn't I? I think I undressed you completely."

John nodded. "So you could touch me," he said. He ran his fingers through Rodney's hair as Rodney kneeled up to undo his fly. "I was surprised at how soft your hair was," he explained, remembering it. "I hadn't expected a man's hair to be that soft." He helpfully lifted his hips so Rodney could slide his pants and boxers down over them, and he hissed a little as the cloth brushed the tip of his cock. Rodney tugged at John's pant legs until he was able to push them aside as well, and John was naked from the waist down.

Rodney ran his hands up and down John's thighs, and John shivered a little at the touch. It had been pleasant, at the time, when every sensation and emotion was blunted by his inability to articulate it, even internally. Now it felt like tiny jolts of electricity, crackling along his nerves straight to his groin. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, tilting his head back. "Yeah," he gasped out. "I remember…I remember you doing that."

"You were so hot," Rodney said. "With your eyes closed and your head thrown back like that." His hands suddenly stopped moving and John lifted his head and opened his eyes. Rodney was looking up at him, his face sad. "But it wasn't real. You were just doing what you knew I'd want to see."

John growled in frustration, reached down and hauled Rodney up with two fistfuls of his shirt. He kissed him again, ferociously. "It was real," he said darkly when they both let go so they could breathe. "Don't you dare think it wasn't."

"Okay," Rodney said. He sounded a little stunned.

John lifted his arms so Rodney could pull off his t-shirt, and Rodney did. He dropped the shirt on the bed, and now John was completely naked, leaning back with his hands propping him up. "Do you remember what happened now?" John asked him.

Rodney was still fully clothed, leaning over the bed with one hand balancing him so he could run his other palm over John's chest, down to his stomach and back up again. "Not really," he said. He let his fingertips trail over one of John's nipples, and smiled at John's sharp inhale.

"You told me to go turn the shower on, then get into it and wait for you," John said, his voice catching a bit because Rodney's hands kept moving, lightly skimming down to his groin, and it was all he could do not to start thrusting. He gasped and arched involuntarily when Rodney wrapped his hand around his cock. "So you have to let me up."

"I won't keep you, then," Rodney murmured. He gave John a gentle squeeze then released him and stepped back.

John blinked at him dazedly for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet and practically stumbled into Rodney's bathroom, fumbling the shower on then standing under the heavy spray of hot water. John gave his cock a long, slow pull while he waited, imagining how it would feel to have Rodney's hand around it.

"God, look at you," Rodney said, and John snapped his head around, startled, to see Rodney standing next to the open shower door, naked and staring at him with open admiration in his huge blue eyes.

John smiled at him and stepped to the side, giving Rodney room. Rodney started kissing him as soon as he was inside, one arm tight around John's waist, the other holding his back with his hand on John's nape, pressing their bodies together. The water sluiced over them both. "Okay, okay, what next?" he panted when they broke apart, his voice louder so John could hear it above the water. "What did we do?"

John handed him the shampoo. "You washed my hair, then the rest of me, like you couldn't touch me enough. And you kept telling me how beautiful I was, that you couldn't believe how well I'd been designed." Rodney had been reverent, astonished, like John was something better than he'd ever thought he could have. John hadn't known Rodney was thinking that, then. It was only much later, when he had understanding of the full panoply of human emotions, that he'd been able to piece it together from how Rodney had looked, what he'd said. John knew that Rodney still felt that way about him sometimes, as if John was a gift he didn't deserve. It made John a little sad, but he didn't think he'd ever be able to change it. "And then," John said, leaning close so he could say it right into Rodney's ear, "you used the conditioner to get me nice and slick, and you fucked me against the shower wall."

Rodney stared at him, his fist tight around the shampoo bottle. "Jesus," he said thickly.

John chuckled, then watched as Rodney had to try it twice before he was able to get the bottle open. Rodney told him to turn around, and he did, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back so Rodney could wash his hair without the soap running into his eyes. Rodney was faster than he'd been the first time, just a quick kneading of his scalp before he let John rinse, but that was okay, that was great. So much better than the anxiety he was showing before, the trepidation.

Rodney took a little more time with the soap, spreading it in soft handfuls over John's shoulders, along his arms, cleaning each individual finger. By the time Rodney's hands circled around to John's chest and stomach he was so hard it was nearly painful.

"Rodney," he said, voice rough. "You don't--I want--"

"Thank God," Rodney said vehemently, and John laughed quietly even as he heard the click of the conditioner opening.

John leaned forward and spread his legs, bracing his hands against the metal wall. The water flooded over him like a waterfall, but it wasn't nearly as warm as Rodney's fingers as they opened him. John gasped and dropped his chin to his chest.

Rodney stopped moving, and John let out a whine.

"Are you okay?" Rodney asked worriedly. His other hand was petting John's back. "Am I hurting you? This stuff's organic, but I don't know--"

"Rodney," John said harshly, "if you don't start moving again right now I'm going to kick your ass."

Rodney smirked, sounding relieved, and started sliding fingers again. He twisted them slightly, and John's whole body shook. He moaned. "Oh yeah, yeah. I'm ready. Please--just--"

"Okay," Rodney said breathlessly, sounding just a wrecked as John felt. Rodney slid his fingers out, replaced them almost immediately with the welcome pressure of his cock, blunt and solid, and John groaned and pushed back until Rodney was completely sheathed in him.

"Okay, okay," Rodney repeated. He had both his arms around John now, and John could feel Rodney's face pressed into the side of his neck, his entire body tight against him, filling him. "What--what happened next?"

John let out a strangled laugh. "I don't remember." He could barely think; he was thrumming with need, with desire. "Move, Rodney. God, please…."

Rodney did, rolling his hips so that he grazed John's prostate with every thrust.

"God, yeah," John gasped, his breath stuttering out of him. "That's it, that's it, don't stop." His hands, slick with water and soap slid along the wall until they were wedged painfully in the corners of the little stall, but John barely noticed. The water roared over them both and it was like he could feel every single droplet on his over-sensitized skin. "Touch me," he panted. "Please, you…."

Rodney let out an inarticulate groan and held John's cock. He pulled once, and that was all it took: John cried out, coming in a dizzying rush that made his knees buckle. He would have fallen, except for Rodney's arm around his waist, holding him.

He felt Rodney panting, open-mouthed against his shoulder, then Rodney was coming as well, nearly throwing them both into the wall. Rodney slowly collapsed to his knees, and John let himself be dragged to the floor of the shower stall with him, wincing a little as Rodney's softening cock slid out of him.

"Holy fuck," Rodney said, barely audible above the water, his lips moving against John's skin. "It was that good before? Really? The first time?"

Rodney was still holding onto John, and John threaded his fingers through Rodney's, pulled his hand up until they were both resting against his heart.

"Yeah," he lied. "It was just like this." Because it would have been, if he'd been human. It would have been; he knew it.

***

"Um, hi," Jennifer said, her little fist still raised to continue pounding on his door. She was wearing her uniform pants, but what was obviously a pajama top under a grey sweatshirt that looked big and ratty enough to have probably belonged to a former boyfriend. "I know it's late, and I'm really sorry and…." She trailed off suddenly, blushing so badly her face went kind of mottled. "Oh my God, you were sleeping, weren't you?" She put her hands over her mouth, eyes huge and miserable. "I just woke you up!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"

Cameron blinked at her. Mostly he was trying to surreptitiously find out if his shirt was on backwards, and remember if he'd actually fastened his pants. He'd had to yank both pieces of clothing back on really quickly when the beating on his door had started. It wasn't like he could discretely check. He was almost disappointed that Atlantis wasn't actually under attack, though he supposed they had a general alarm for that. It would've made a nice distraction, anyway.

He scratched his head. "It's okay," he said, because it looked like Jennifer was going to implode with embarrassment. "I wasn't asleep." He'd been trying to sleep, which accounted for how bed-mussed he probably looked, but he hadn't been able to get his fight with Evan out of his head. It was hard to relax when you were angry.

"Oh," Jennifer said. She dropped her hands, though she was still blushing and looked only vaguely happier. "Well, that's good, then." She put her hands behind her back. "I came to apologize, about before." She pressed her lips together, as if mentally hunting for the right words. "You know, about the game, and…everything."

"Wait," Cameron said. He rubbed his hand alongside an eye, feeling the almost unpleasant pull against the skin. It didn't help. "Back it up for me here--what are you apologizing for, exactly?"

"The game!" Jennifer said loudly, then looked like she'd shocked herself and quickly turned her head left and right, making sure no one else was in the corridor. "The game," she repeated, much more quietly but with particular emphasis. "And…." She quirked her head. "And, you know. What you said."

Cameron stared at her. "You're apologizing to me, for me telling everyone I'm a virgin?"

Jennifer's eyes went almost comically wide. "Don't say it!" She hissed, then looked right and left again, though no one had magically appeared in the last few seconds. "Do you want someone to hear you?"

Cameron took a breath. If there'd been any doubt that he'd done something really, really stupid, Jennifer had managed to blow it out of the sky right there. He stepped back from the doorframe. "Maybe you'd better come in."

She looked so astounded at the invitation that Cameron instantly regretted giving it, thinking he'd committed yet another irredeemable social blunder that Evan hadn't bothered to tell him about. But, "Oh!" she said, "sure. Thank you," and smiled shyly at him and looked so genuinely pleased that he thought maybe it was actually okay.

When she walked past him, he used the second her back was turned to check that he'd done up his fly, which he had. Thank God.

"All right," Jennifer sighed once she was inside the room. Cameron wanted to sit on his bed--he was tired--but Jennifer was still standing and he didn't want to be rude. "Maybe I should try this again." She pulled herself up straight, clasping her hands in front of her as if she were about to deliver a report. "I'm really sorry that I encouraged everyone to play the drinking game, because it ended up with you telling us something very personal. And I didn't mean for it to happen and I'm sorry." She gave a tiny, decisive nod, though she looked anything but pleased with herself.

Cameron frowned. "That wasn't your fault. That was me, and--" he smirked, though it wasn't funny and he wasn't sure if it ever would be. "That was me and too much beer. It had nothing to do with you."

"Yeah, but, it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't started the game!" Jennifer insisted miserably. She looked down, plucking the already fraying hem of her sweatshirt. "I couldn't sleep because I felt so awful about it."

"Tell me about it," Cameron said ruefully, then, "I just mean about the not being able to sleep thing," he explained, when Jennifer's eyes widened again. He took a small step towards her, making sure she was looking him in the eye. "You have nothing to feel bad about, okay?" he told her seriously. "The game was fun--mostly--and we all contributed things maybe we shouldn't've. I just…." He grimaced. "I misunderstood something I'd been told as a kid and now it's come back to bite me in the ass." He shrugged, giving her a thin smile. "My bad. Nothing to do with you."

Jennifer didn't look convinced, but like she was willing to be. "You sure?"

Cameron nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okay." Jennifer smiled, relieved. "Well, thank you." She laughed, miming wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "Whew!" And Cameron couldn't help grinning at her, at how earnest she was.

It reminded him of Doctor Lee, which made him think of Evan, which ruined the tenuous improvement of his mood.

Jennifer must have seen his sudden scowl, because her face fell. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Cameron said quickly. He shook his head. "I'm just tired."

"No, seriously," Jennifer said. "What is it?" Then, "Oh," as if she'd just had a revelation. "It's about what you said. You're upset. Well, of course you're upset!" she went on immediately, before Cameron could even open his mouth. Her tone of voice clearly implied that she thought she was an idiot for possibly thinking anything else. "I mean, you said you didn't think it was a big deal, and then it was a big deal, and…." She trailed off, blinking, her cheeks pinking up again. "I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"It's fine," Cameron said. He found another smile for her, though it wasn't easy. "And you're right," he added. He glanced at his bed, then decided he was going to sit down after all, fuck it. He was tired and there was a desk chair if she didn't want to keep standing. He sat, then let himself flop backwards so that he was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He put his hands on his stomach. "I'm kind of pissed off at my dad, actually," he admitted.

Jennifer looked puzzled. "Why?" She hesitated, then went to the desk chair, spun it around and sat down with her hands clasped in her lap.

Cameron took a deep breath. "Because he told me I should wait until I was with someone I really cared about." He lifted up enough so that he could link his fingers and rest his head on them. He smiled weakly. "I never found anyone like that." He shrugged, making his elbows bob. "So here I am." He wasn't as angry as he had been before. Maybe he was just too exhausted to sustain it.

He turned his head to look at her when Jennifer didn't answer right away. She was staring down at her hands. "My first time was with a guy from college, med school," she said, and a ghost of a smile flickered across her face. She tucked a stray piece of her ponytail behind her ear. "I was one of those prodigies, you know? Younger than anyone else, and he was, like, four years older than I was, and really handsome, and I couldn't believe he wanted me."

"You don't have to tell me this," Cameron said when she fell silent. He could tell where this was going, though the irrational acid rush of anger in his guts surprised him. He knew, though, that if this nameless boy were in the room Cameron would wipe the floor with him, just because of how quiet Jennifer had become.

She made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "Oh, it's no big deal," she said, with the same flickering smile. "It's just that the whole experience was kind of unpleasant. And, and I regretted it after. That I hadn't waited for someone I cared about." She shrugged. "And who cared about me." Jennifer smirked and finally lifted her head up. "Wow. I sound like a public service announcement."

"You don't," Cameron said seriously. He had feeling that 'kind of unpleasant' was Jennifer's way of being nice, but knew better than to press her on it. "Thanks."

She shrugged again. Her smile was sad, but at least it stayed on her face. "You're welcome. I just thought you should know that maybe your dad was right."

Cameron moved his head until he was staring at the ceiling, thinking about what Jennifer had just told him, how she regretted not waiting, and about Evan, who was only human. And who had done the best he could.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe he was."

He saw Jennifer's nod out of the corner of his eye. "My dad told me the same thing, though I know he really wanted me to save myself for marriage." She rolled her eyes. "Which I think he was hoping wouldn't happen until I was, like, fifty or something." She chuckled. "But afterwards, with that…jerk, I really wished I'd listened to him."

"I'll beat him up for you," Cameron said, just to make her laugh.

Jennifer did, then waved her hand in a quick negating gesture. "It's okay, really. It was a long time ago." She smiled warmly at him. "That's sweet, though. In a kind of violent, overly-macho way. But it's sweet. Thanks."

Cameron grinned back at her, pleased. "You're welcome. Teal'c'll help me, too. He loves noble vengeance."

Jennifer shook her head quickly, though she was still smiling. "No, no, really. It's fine. No noble vengeance necessary."

"Too bad," Cameron said with mock disappointment. "I'm really good at the knight in shining armor stuff."

"I'm sure you are," Jennifer said, and she suddenly sounded so wistful that Cameron blinked and really looked at her. She had pulled her knees up so that her feet were on the chair, and she was holding her shins, which made her look vulnerable and childlike. For the first time Cameron noticed that her feet were bare. Her toes were very pink, and he wondered if they were cold.

And she looked…wistful. Like her voice. Not sad, exactly, but close enough.

"What is it?" he asked her.

Jennifer looked like his question had startled her, then she blushed again. She ducked her head. "Nothing," she said. "It's stupid."

Cameron rolled himself upright. He was curious, but he also didn't want her to be upset. She was sweet--she'd come all the way to his room in the middle of the night to apologize for something that wasn't even her fault, then told him something really personal in return. He didn't want her to leave like this. He was thinking that maybe he didn't want her to leave at all.

"Come on," he said, making his voice light, cajoling. "You already know my most embarrassing secret, how bad could this one be?"

"Oh, pretty bad," Jennifer said. She waved her hand in front of her face, as if trying to push away the thought, then she took an obviously fortifying breath, and lifted her head. "I was, um, thinking that I wished it could have been you, back in college. Instead of the guy I ended up with." She shrugged like it didn't matter, though she was still flushed bright pink. She made a noise that wasn't quite a laugh. "Stupid, huh?"

Cameron stared at her, stunned. "Wow," he said, a little dazedly. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Jennifer said. She sounded flustered, and maybe even kind of annoyed. "You're cute, and really nice, and I know you wouldn't be a jerk about it or anything…." She stopped talking, as if she'd just realized she'd said more than she should have. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay," Cameron said quickly. "And, uh, thank you, for thinking I'm nice."

"You're welcome." Jennifer said. "And thank you for not biting my head off."

"Why would I do that?" He raised his eyebrows, confused. "Do the guys you know normally get angry when you flatter them?"

Jennifer smiled weakly. "Funnily enough, I don't get much call to say nice things to the guys I work with." She shook her head, then tucked more hair behind her ear, carefully avoiding Cameron's eyes. "But what I meant was, after how Vala and Teyla kind of…ambushed you, before, that the last thing you'd want was someone else making the same kind of offer."

The someone like me was implicit, but Cameron was a little too shocked to respond to that part. "You're offering to sleep with me?"

Jennifer's eyes became very, very big.

"No!" she said loudly. "No, I mean, it's not like I wouldn't want to, but I'm not offering! This isn't an offer!" She gasped. "Wait! I mean, I'm not rejecting you, or anything. Because I would. Offer. I would totally offer. If you wanted." Then she groaned and put her fingers over her eyes. "But you don't want this and I'm probably weirding you the hell out and I'm really, really sorry." She put her feet back on the floor with a thump, then shot out of the borrowed desk chair. "I think that's what's probably known as 'overshare.'" She smiled weakly. "Feel free to blame it on the beer. As a matter of fact, I really, really hope you do." She gestured vaguely at the door. "And I'm going to go now. Yeah, I should definitely go." She nodded rapidly, moving towards the door. "I'll uh, see you in the morning."

Cameron stood up too. "Wait," he said. He didn't know what he wanted, except for her not to leave. He'd liked her awkward, earnest conversation. He'd liked her company. Liked her, and he wasn't ready to give that up yet.

Jennifer stopped right in front of his door. Her eyes were enormous.

"It's all right," Cameron said. "You don't have to go."

Jennifer crossed her arms over her chest, looking like all she wanted to do was to bolt. "That's really kind," she said. "But we should probably both get some sleep."

Cameron licked his lips, looking at her. His heart started pounding. He took a step towards her, knowing he'd made a decision already, somewhere; maybe as soon as Jennifer had come into his room. "Please stay," he said. "I want you to stay." He hoped she'd get it, she'd understand, because he didn't want to have to explain. "I…care about you."

Jennifer's eyes went impossibly wider. "Thank you," she said. "That's--" She stopped. "Oh," she said softly. "You mean…with me?"

Cameron smiled, wondering if she could hear his heart beating; it felt loud enough. "Yeah," he said.

Jennifer swallowed. "Wow," she said. "But, now? Just like that?" She crossed the few steps from the door to where Cameron was standing, until she was close enough to touch him if she just raised her arm. She smiled, though it was still uncertain. "You're sure?" She took his hand, and it seemed like she'd done it unconsciously, the doctor in her automatically wanting to give reassurance, comfort. I'm here. You're not alone.

"Yeah," Cameron said, nodding. He squeezed her hand gently, giving what reassurance he could in return. He looked down at her lovely, gentle face, and tried to tell her why. "I don't…Ronon and Teyla called this 'walking the far path', right?"

Jennifer nodded.

"I didn't know I was on it," Cameron said. "But, it wasn't my choice to be, not really. I just…." He shrugged one shoulder. "I was taught…well, you know what I was taught."

Jennifer nodded again. She let go of his hand, but only so that she could reach up and hold his face in both of her hands. Her palms were cool, her dark eyes luminous and solemn.

"You don't have to do anything, Cameron," she said.

He smiled. "I know. But I want to. And I want it to be with you." He slid his free hand along the side of her face until he was cupping the back of her head, spreading his fingers around her ponytail. "I want to be with you," he said.

"Oh," Jennifer said, sounding surprised. "Thank you." She hesitated, gave a tiny laugh. "So, you, you're sure?"

Cameron laughed as well, he couldn't help it. "Yeah," he said. "I'm sure."

"Okay," Jennifer said. She leaned up a little, then stopped again. "Um." She gestured at her mouth. "Have you…."

Cameron grinned. "Yes," he said. "I've been kissed a few times." He just hadn't done anything else. Not yet.

"Okay then," Jennifer whispered. She pulled him down to her and kissed him.

***

Teyla eased herself carefully into the seat across from Cameron Mitchell, gently setting down her tray on the table. He was been deep in thought, staring at his food, though the slight smile on his face at least indicated that his preoccupation was pleasant. Nonetheless, he startled badly when he noticed her.

"My apologies," she said, offering him a smile. She was hoping he wouldn't notice the extent of her pain, an unhappy legacy of the game the night before. She had dutifully drunk water before finally going to sleep, but it hadn't helped very much. Right now everything was too loud, too bright and unpleasant.

"Not a problem," Cameron said wryly. He smiled at her, though she could sense a slight wariness in him, which she was certain came from the night before as well, as certainly did his reddened eyes and the tentative way he moved, as if he were also in pain. Perhaps he expected her to proposition him again; she hoped not.

Still, Cameron took a look at her and his blue eyes widened as he sipped his coffee. "That bad, huh?"

"I found myself unable to sleep," Teyla allowed, since it was true. After her confrontation with Ronon she had gone to bed and lain awake in the darkness, unable to relax. Part of that was her sorrow for Ronon. The rest was why she was here now, and why she had been so thankful to see that Cameron was as yet alone. She took a breath. "I must ask your forgiveness. I should not have been so forward, last night. It was not my intention to make you more uncomfortable."

"Oh." He looked as if he hadn't expected the apology, and wasn't sure what to do with it. "Well, um, thank you." He nodded cordially, though he suddenly looked embarrassed. "Though I think you deserve an apology more." His smile was uncertain, and he rubbed the back of his head in a gesture Teyla had seen Major Lorne do often. "I kind of overreacted."

"That is possible," Teyla said, smiling to take any kind of sting out of it, "but I also should never have made such an offer so publicly." She knew her smile had become regretful, but didn't try to hide it. "I am not normally so impulsive."

Cameron chuckled. "I'm pretty sure all the alcohol had something to do with that." He became serious. "Don't worry about it. It was--it was a weird night." He put his hand on hers for a moment, a quick, impersonal gesture that nonetheless made her think of John. "I know you weren't trying to freak me out, or anything."

"I was not," Teyla agreed. She leaned in a little further, lowered her voice. "But I do wish you to know that what I said, about it being an honor, I meant that truly. Among my people it is considered…sacred, to help someone on the far path end their journey." She saw a tiny flicker of anxiety in his sky-colored eyes and deliberately leaned back. "But it was not right of me to impose such a thing on you."

"No, it's okay, really," Cameron said quickly. He smiled again, bright as his eyes, and warm. "I'm…honored, too. Really. Thanks."

Teyla smiled back, relaxing for the first time since she had seen his reaction to her words the night before. She inclined her head to him. "I'm very glad to hear it."

She saw Major Lorne approaching before she heard him ask, "Am I interrupting anything?" and she saw Cameron's expression darken for a moment, but it cleared quickly. When she glanced up at Evan, he was obviously wary, and she wondered what had transpired between them.

She moved to stand, though it made her stomach lurch unpleasantly, grabbing the sides of her tray and as-yet untouched meal. "I will leave you to speak," she said by way of explanation.

"No, it's okay, you don't have to go," Cameron said quickly. He gestured at her chair. "Please, stay." He directed a smile quickly at Evan, who was saying nothing. "It's okay," he said again.

It sounded almost as if Cameron was speaking about something other than Teyla's continued presence, but Evan still looked unhappy as he sat down himself. His tray had coffee and the detestable substance the Lanteans called 'oatmeal', but he made no move to touch any of it.

Evan glanced at her uncomfortably, then cleared his throat. "Cameron--"

"You were right," Cameron said immediately, cutting off Evan's words. He took a large spoonful of his own oatmeal, chewed carefully and swallowed, while Evan stared at him in apparent shock. "You were right. And I'm sorry I made a big deal about it." He smiled, the apology evident in it. "And if I haven't, thank you."

"You're welcome," Evan said slowly. "I can't say I expected that." He took a long sip of his coffee, his expression wondering. "What…changed your mind?"

Cameron found a sudden, intense interest in his breakfast, trailing his spoon through the thick mess as if trying to find some powerful secret in it. "I was just thinking," he mumbled.

Teyla was tempted to ask him what, exactly, he had been thinking about, when Ronon crashed down into the seat across from Evan, slapping his loaded tray onto the table with enough force to make all their cups rattle and she and Cameron wince.

"Morning," he muttered at all of them. He wouldn't meet Teyla's eyes.

"Good morning, Ronon," Teyla said. She was surprised he had chosen to sit near her, then wished they were alone, so she could make another apology--this time for having so thoughtlessly spoken of his people, all he had lost. But they weren't alone, so she picked at her fruit and said nothing. Evan and Cameron continued eating silently as well, as if sensing Ronon's need for it.

"Teyla," Ronon said suddenly, startling her. She looked up at him, but his attention was seemingly focused only on his meal.

"I'm not ready," Ronon said. "But…maybe later."

He snatched another piece of bacon from his plate with his fingers, chewing it with no apparent further interest in the conversation. Teyla blinked at him, then couldn't keep herself from grinning. She didn't even try.

She said nothing, but she stood up so that she could reach across the table and take Ronon's hand. She squeezed it gently. He held hers tightly in return.

"Don't look at me," Cameron said when Evan looked at him questioningly. He shrugged, hands spread. "Most of the locals I meet want to kill me."

"Or sleep with you," Ronon said, then grinned when Teyla swatted him.

Cameron groaned and put his head in his hands. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Nope," Evan said pleasantly. He took another spoonful of oatmeal.

***

Elizabeth Weir stood on the balcony overlooking the gate room with her hands curled comfortably around the rail, and watched as SG-1 finished making their goodbyes.

She, like Rodney, had already wished the SGC team a good return journey to Earth. She'd moved back because she thought that some of the people below might want a bit more privacy--she could still see them, but sound didn't carry all that well--and she suspected that Rodney had for the same reason, though she thought it might have also been that Carter's kiss on his cheek had flustered him more than he wanted to admit. Now, however, he was standing next to her with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down at the scene below with undisguised interest.

Ronon had already said his brusque goodbyes, and now the people left on the gate room floor were Teyla, John, Jennifer and Evan. Teyla had finished touching her forehead to Daniel, then moved to Mitchell, who returned it a bit awkwardly. She kissed him on the cheek afterwards, which was surprising. Elizabeth wasn't sure with the distance, but it looked like Vala rolled her eyes. Whatever she said made Mitchell shake his head and everyone else laugh.

Elizabeth smiled bemusedly to herself. She'd already witnessed Carson (and Radek, amazingly enough) hugging the Colonel goodbye earlier in the mess, and now Teyla was kissing him. Mitchell was a popular man.

John shook hands with Carter and exchanged some pleasantry Elizabeth couldn't hear but that made Carter smile. Vala obviously insisted on a hug, and John hesitated before he gave her one with evident reluctance. Rodney stiffened when he saw it, and when Elizabeth looked at him he was scowling.

Daniel got John's typical firm handshake and reserved smile, but for some reason Mitchell pulled something small and yellow (a lemon?) out of his jacket pocket when John turned to him, then slapped it into his hand.

Rodney's scowl deepened, and Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him. "Something I should know about?" she asked.

"Just that Mitchell's lucky the Colonel likes him," Rodney said.

Elizabeth went back to watching the goodbyes with an internal shrug, assuming that if it were truly important she'd find out about it later. Now John tossed the lemon in his hand, asking Mitchell something. When Mitchell answered--grinning so widely Elizabeth thought she might be able to count his teeth, despite the distance--John threw the lemon at his head. He telegraphed the move, however, so Mitchell could duck, and the lemon sailed through the gate to bounce off the window on the other side and most likely splatter on the floor. Mitchell and John started a laughing tussle, which finally ended up as a fierce hug. John smacked Mitchell's back a few times, then stepped away, turning quickly and trotting up the stairs. He stood the way Elizabeth was, with his hands curved around the balcony railing.

"Thank you for defending my honor," Rodney said with obvious, disdainful sarcasm. "Especially since you gave him the lemon in the first place."

"Consider it payback for using Lucius' roofie potion on me," John said breezily, though his eyes were still on the gate room floor. On Mitchell, Elizabeth was certain. She hadn't known the two of them were so close.

And Evan and Mitchell were just as close, it seemed, if the way they also hugged each other goodbye was any indication.

"I didn't know you and Major Lorne knew Colonel Mitchell," Elizabeth said, ignoring Rodney's indignant insistence that being threatened with death was in no way the equivalent of making someone do your laundry. She looked at John. "How did you meet?"

"Oh, well, you know," John said. He coughed.

"Special ops," Rodney filled in immediately.

John nodded vigorously. "Yeah," he said. "Special ops. We met there. Years ago."

"Really?" Elizabeth said. "That's quite a coincidence."

"Well," Rodney said quickly. "Actually, statistically speaking--"

"Special Ops is kind of small," John said, cutting Rodney off. He shrugged casually. "Really small. You know how it is."

"Right," Rodney said, a little tightly. "It's a teeny tiny village."

Elizabeth's attention was drawn back to the gate room floor. She hadn't expected Jennifer to be there to see SG-1 off, but the doctor was shaking hands cordially with everyone. Except Mitchell.

Elizabeth blinked, watching as Jennifer all but grabbed the colonel's ears and yanked him into a kiss that silenced the gate room completely. She was fairly certain she could hear Daniel clearing his throat, then clearing his throat again a minute later.

"Well," John said finally. Jennifer was walking out of the gate room, leaving Mitchell touching his lips with the tips of his fingers. "That explains some things."

"What things?" Rodney asked, but Elizabeth ignored John's answer, instead focusing on someone stalking across the floor. She recognized him immediately as Jonathan O'Neill.

Jonathan ignored the rest of SG-1, going right to Daniel. They just looked at each other for a moment, then Daniel hugged Jonathan, and Jonathan hugged him back. And they held each other for so long that Elizabeth began to feel uncomfortable, like this was something no one else should see.

"They've known each other a long time," John said quietly, as if he sensed her silent astonishment. "'Been through a lot."

Elizabeth could only nod. Though really, that was probably explanation enough. And Jonathan did hug Carter as well, afterwards, though it didn't have the same kind of….

Desperation wasn't the word Elizabeth wanted to use. But it was the one that fit.

Jonathan didn't come up to the control room afterwards. But unlike Evan, he didn't stay in the gate room either. He left the way Jennifer had--just turned and walked away.

She got the message from the Odyssey that they were ready for transport after that, and she, John and Rodney waved a last goodbye to SG-1. And then they were finally away, vanishing in four white lights.

"Well, there they go," Rodney said. He clapped his hands together. "Back to our regularly scheduled disasters and alien invasions."

"Yeah," John said more soberly. He hadn't moved. "Guess we won't see them again for awhile."

Rodney looked at John, seemingly uncertain, then he walked to the rail and stood next to him. He wrapped his fingers around it the same way John's were, so close the side of his hand almost touched John's skin.

"Of course we will," he said with an odd gentleness. "You've got some leave coming--I'm sure SG-1 won't mind you tagging along for a mission or two."

"That'd be cool," John said, though his smile was more wishful than believing.

"You never know, John," Elizabeth said. She put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm certain they'd appreciate your ability to use Ancient technology." She made a mental note to put a request in to General Landry. She would probably owe him, but she thought it would be worth it. John would obviously miss Mitchell a great deal.

"They'd be idiots not to," Rodney agreed vehemently. His hand slid along the rail until it hit against John's, but John didn't move.

Elizabeth smiled as she walked back to her office, leaving John and Rodney in the control room. She was sure that if she didn't get Landry's approval, Rodney would bludgeon the poor man until he caved out of sheer self-preservation.

"Unfortunately, it means I'm going to have to come too," Rodney was saying huffily as Elizabeth stepped through the glass doorway. "I mean, God only knows what kind of danger you and Mitchell would get yourselves into, without someone there with adequate intelligence to save you from yourselves."

"Oh, I don't know, McKay," John began, "I think Colonel Carter--" But Elizabeth couldn't hear the rest because she shut the door behind her.

Elizabeth shook her head, grinning to herself. She had no doubt that Rodney would figure out a way to get both of them onto SG-1 for at least one mission, probably for exactly the reason he'd said.

John was lucky to have such good friends.

END