Major John Sheppard knew something had gone terribly wrong the moment his team came back through the gate into the city. His first clue was the way the wormhole had crackled and popped on their exit with a shower of blue sparks that sent the entire team diving for the floor after they cleared the event horizon. His second came when he covered the back of his head with his hands to shield it from subsequent explosions and his hair felt all wrong somehow. But it wasn't until the fireworks had ceased and he rolled over to make sure the rest of his team was okay that he really realized that things were not okay. For starters, he was staring at himself kneeling on the other side of him, and that version of himself was slack-jawed with a stupid expression on his face, turning his hands back and forth in front of him repeatedly.
Turning slowly to look at the rest of the team behind him, he saw Rodney McKay on his hands and knees staring back at him in shock. Rodney carefully raised one hand up to his head and smoothed it down his hair, grasping suddenly at the ends as if wondering where the rest of it might be. Lt. Ford was staggering to his feet; his mouth hung open for an instant then clapped shut like a steel door. Glowering, he placed his fists on his hips and said, "Will somebody please explain what the hell is going on?
John lay where he had fallen on the floor, too stunned to take it all in, until McKay got up and slowly stepped forward to offer him a hand up. The hand he held out to McKay was ridiculously small in comparison. His eye traveled up that hand to the attractive bicep attached to it, continuing up to a shoulder that was so not his. McKay's expression was still somewhat stunned, but there was a rueful recognition of the shock John must be feeling as well. McKay pulled him to his feet, but seemed to misjudge the effort needed and John ended up smacking his nose into his chest. "Sorry!" McKay muttered, setting him back on his feet by the shoulders and then staring helplessly at him. He had to look up to meet McKay's eyes. Oh this is so not good.
Technicians were running in and Dr. Elizabeth Weir swept down the stairs, hurrying over to ask what had happened. He had one of those moments where he had to make a split second decision and he reached over and thumped himself in the arm. "Major Sheppard," he hissed to himself, "tell Dr. Weir we need to see her for a team debriefing in her office, privately. Now! "
The person that was now himself had also risen to his feet but was still looking dazed. From behind, Ford said caustically to his superior officer, "That would be you." John turned to look back at Ford and a strand of long coppery brown hair fell into his vision. He reflexively pushed it back behind one ear. Oh great, just great.
Later, in Elizabeth's office with the door closed and the windows opaqued, Sheppard pounded a dainty fist on the table, winced and then swore. "I'm telling you, nothing happened on the planet. It was completely boring. I didn't touch anything! There wasn't even anything to touch!"
Teyla, speaking serenely with McKay's voice seconded the opinion. "It was an uneventful trip for us."
"Well, something must have happened." McKay had been stalking around the room; he came to rest leaning over the table to glare at Sheppard. Elizabeth found herself thinking that Rodney's bursts of temper, which she had never really taken seriously from the physicist, were downright frightening when paired with Ford's lean athleticism. "Because, in case you hadn't noticed, there have been a few changes around here."
"And this is somehow my fault?" Sheppard folded arms across his chest and succeeded only in looking...miffed. Oh dear, Elizabeth thought. It was like watching a train wreck...horrifying, yet fascinating and somehow impossible to tear your eyes away from.
"This isn't very productive, people." She managed to say at last. The gate is down, we have a serious problem here and we need to focus on solutions, not play a blame game." She sighed. "Dr. Beckett will go over each of you medically as usual; we'll get Dr. Zelenka to..."
"No!" Sheppard squeaked; then moderated his tone. "We can't let anyone know...at least, not just yet."
"Major," Elizabeth said carefully, "I recognize that the situation may be a little bit more awkward in your case..."
"No, I don't think you really do." He stared at steepled fingers in front of him on the table before raising resigned eyes to meet Elizabeth's. "If you go public with our...predicament...you will destroy any credibility I might have earned here as a military commander."
"Oh please..." Elizabeth began, ticked and not just a little disappointed. 'Ford' threw his hands up in the air and stomped over to the coffeemaker.
"Hear me out." Sheppard sighed. "This has nothing to do with the ability of women to act as leaders. There is no question that everyone has a lot of respect for Teyla and I have no doubt whatsoever if she had come up through the ranks she'd have made a fine military officer." 'McKay' turned a glowing smile towards Sheppard, which momentarily threw him off his stride. "It has to do with the perception the people in my command have of my ability to lead." He paused for a moment, obviously searching for the right words. "Look," he struggled on, "if these were airmen from the SCG who were used to their seeing their senior officers in unusual situations, I wouldn't think twice about this, but they're not. They're Marines. Col Sumner's Marines, if you get my drift. They're not exactly thrilled with the current command arrangement as it is. Trying to maintain any kind of authority looking like this..." He waved his hands to indicate Teyla's body. "No offense, Teyla."
"None taken. I have learned to decipher what you really mean when you are being your usual articulate self." There was a touch of coolness to the speech that made Elizabeth glance over at 'Rodney'. For a moment, she wasn't entirely sure which 'McKay' had just spoken. She could swear she caught a twinkle of Teyla's expression in those blue eyes when she made contact with them.
"He's right, m'am." Ford chimed in for the first time since entering Elizabeth's office. "The jokes would be beyond belief. No one would be able to take him seriously. I mean, even on a good day all he would have to do is just walk in the..."
"Point taken, Lieutenant." Sheppard glared at his 2IC with flinty eyes. He turned back to Elizabeth. "I'm just asking for a few days here."
"Well, o-kay." Elizabeth said slowly. "But how do you propose we solve this problem without getting the input of the science department? And do you really think we can all keep this a secret?"
Everyone looked over at 'Ford' who was rapidly shaking a packet of sugar into a cup of coffee and stirring it in with a pen. Rapping the pen against the side of the cup like a drummer for a heavy metal band, he looked up. "Why is everyone looking at me?"
It took them nearly an hour to iron out the logistics of how they were going to handle things. Certainly there was no reason not to put the entire science team to work on the gate problem - that would only be expected. Nor would there be any problem asking medical to run lab tests to rule out any anomalies from the team themselves as a cause for the gate to short out. Rodney could work primarily from his laptop--though he grumbled about "making bricks without straw". By temporarily assigning 'Ford' to assist Dr. McKay, they could even stretch an excuse as to why 'Ford' would have reason to be in the labs. Since the gate was out of commission for the moment, 'Sheppard' would resume his duties as the military CO - thank goodness Ford was military as well. In the meantime, everyone would try to act as much as possible like the people whose bodies they now inhabited.
"Hah." Sheppard said to Ford in an aside. "Enjoy the paperwork."
"Right. Fine." 'Ford' stood up as the discussion wound down. "I will need everyone's clothes for analysis, so you might as well all head back to your, or whoever you are now's, quarters and strip. Bag everything, and I do mean everything, and send it to me."
With deafening silence, the team slowly trickled out of the room. Elizabeth briefly put her head down on her desk. There wasn't an aspirin in the entire Pegasus galaxy big enough for her headache. Why was it always this team?
For the next 12 hours it was...almost...business as usual. The team seemed to have recovered some degree of functionality and there was a lot of information and material to process. Elizabeth ran interference for them as best she could so they could work on a solution without having to concentrate quite as hard on maintaining a false persona. McKay of course, was hopeless at playing the role of Ford; deep in the analysis of the data collected at the time of the gate burnout he persisted in his tendency to snap, "thinking", when someone interrupted him to ask a question. Watching 'Teyla' pace around the room like a small jungle cat trapped into domesticity was just plain disconcerting. As she anticipated, Sheppard's restlessness finally got on everyone's nerves and Elizabeth was left with no alternative but to send him away. The hurt look on his face was both heartbreaking and amusing at the same time and Elizabeth simply had no idea how to respond to it. She was not surprised when she saw 'McKay' slip out of the room shortly afterwards. Ford found himself called away to deal with a military matter; the look of panic on his face as he left the room stirred feelings of sympathy on his behalf. Elizabeth wondered if Rodney had realized yet that he was the only team member who had any chance of coming up with a solution or whether he had just assumed that was the case from the beginning. McKay simply demanded more coffee and when Elizabeth brought him a steaming cup, he shoved the laptop away from him violently and jumped up from the table.
"What is it?" Elizabeth's voice was full of concern. Had he found something already?
"I can't type as fast as I used to. I keep making mistakes. I can't think clearly. How am I supposed to solve this problem if I can't think straight?" He reached for the coffee cup.
Elizabeth pulled the mug slightly out of reach. "You know, Rodney, maybe Lt. Ford doesn't drink as much coffee as you do..."
"What? Nonsense. What does that have to do with anything?"
"You just seem a little edgy. You've been working for hours straight. Why don't you take a break and grab some dinner. I understand they are serving lemon chicken tonight."
"Elizabeth!! You know I can't..." he started to rant, but then his face relaxed into a beautific Ford-like smile. "Gosh, you know, you may be right. I'm starving."
Elizabeth was relieved that at least one problem today could be solved so easily. "Good. Go get some food. Then I want you to get at least 6 hours sleep. That's an order, Lieutenant." She smiled teasingly, but Rodney looked horrified.
"Does this mean I have to follow orders?"
The beeping of the door chime was insistent, but he was certain if he just pulled enough pillows over his head, he could drown it out until whoever it was gave up and went away. The pillow covers were crisp, clean and smelled of ocean breezes and a light floral scent. Burrowing into them deeper was no hardship. The door chime continued on however, and he finally threw back the covers and yelled, "All right, already. I'm coming." Disoriented at the sight of slim, bare legs hitting the floor when he swung out of bed, it took him a few seconds to remember the events from the day before. Crap. He had settled on wearing a flimsy night-shirt thingy to bed last night and Teyla did not appear to possess anything that looked like robe. He scooped up some sort of hand-woven coverlet off the end of the bed and draped it around his shoulders. Whoever it was at the door would just have to deal.
The door opened to reveal a tired-looking version of himself wearing a standard military issue cap ... he never wore hats. "Can I come in?" Ford hesitated only a moment when John stepped back and made room in the entranceway for him.
He turned to John and removed the cap as soon as the door closed again. "I can't deal with this!" He pointed to his head, where his hair was flattened on one side and sticking straight out on the other. John couldn't help it; he began to laugh.
"It's not funny, Major." Ford was trying not to smile himself now and John found the effect of watching himself smirking really strange. "Seriously, sir. Black men do not have to deal with this."
"Don't get me started--you have no idea." John grinned as he puffed a long lock of Teyla's hair out of his eyes. "Go soak your head in the sink; you'll have to start over."
Ford came out of the bathroom with his hair slicked down, towel around his shoulders. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and looked around the room curiously. "How come Teyla has such a nice room?"
Sheppard snorted, sorting through items on a side table looking for something that could approximate hair gel. "She probably works harder at it than we do. Try this." He handed a small ceramic jar to Ford, who immediately scooped out a generous dollop of the contents into the palm of his hand.
"Jeez, no Ford, not that much!" Sheppard stepped in and wiped out the majority of the goop from Ford's hand with the end of the towel. He ended up having to show Ford how to run his hands through the top of the hair to get it to appear deceptively disheveled and not like he had just received an electrical shock. When he stepped back, Ford was looking at him rather uncomfortably. "Something else on your mind, Ford?" He felt one eyebrow arch.
"Ah, well, since you mention it..." Ford was obviously having trouble spitting it out, but Sheppard simply waited. He felt it was a very Teyla-like thing to do and that thought made him pleased with himself.
"It's just that...well, rumor has it that there are two lists here at Atlantis."
"Lists?"
"Ah, yeah. The first is the list of people that you have slept with; the second are those you are going to sleep with..."
"Ai-den!" John's voice rose in pitch on the first syllable and then dropped warningly on the second. He put one hand on his hip, felt the pull of the nightshirt across his chest despite the blanket, and shifted position rapidly again, folding his arms across the front of his body.
"Hey," Ford shrugged and briefly pulled himself up in a mock protective position, as though to ward off a blow. "Don't shoot the messenger. I am just saying, that's the rumor. But if there is anything I should know..." he trailed off suggestively.
"That you should know?" John repeated, frowning.
"You know. Like if there is anyone I should know about, in order to keep from making a mistake..."
Enlightenment dawned. "Oh. I see. Well, no. Not really. Not that you have to worry about." He could see this might not have been the best answer, as there was a speculative gleam in Ford's (damnit, his) eyes. He could see the wheels turning as Ford pondered the short list of people who already knew of the situation.
"Okay." The smile suddenly faded from Ford's face. "Sir? I am finding this whole responsibility thing overwhelming."
"Hah, join the club, Ford."
"No, really. I'm seriously afraid I'm going to screw up big time."
John looked at him carefully. Ford was sitting on the bed looking down at his hands, the picture of dejection. "Aiden," he said at last, "we all screw up. Hell, I screw up every day--and sometimes in really spectacular ways. We all just do the best we can."
"Yeah," Ford grinned up at him suddenly, little boy smile in place, "but I don't think I can screw up with the same style that you do."
John stamped a foot and pointed at the door. "Get out!" Ford was still grinning as he headed out the door. If this was what he looked like when he delivered a parting shot, it was no wonder so many people wanted to hit him all the time.
He looked everywhere for a clock, and failing to find one, went over to the balcony. It was very early in the morning; pale red streaks of light were just starting to make an appearance over the steely gray horizon. He stood for a moment listening to the sounds of the waves and then came to a sudden realization. Re-entering the room, he threw himself backwards on Teyla's bed, clasping his hands behind his head as he sank back into the pillows. Hot damn, he was on vacation.
Hunger and boredom finally drove him to the mess hall a few hours later. Sitting down to a table with a heavily laden tray, he heard McKay's voice filled with consternation saying, "What do you think you are doing?"
This was such a normal state of things that he automatically answered, "I'm eating breakfast, Rodney, what does it look like I am doing?" in his best sarcastic voice before it dawned on him that he wasn't really speaking to McKay.
"You are NOT going to eat all of that!" Teyla hissed at him, doing a very good imitation of a pissed off Rodney.
He looked down at his tray of eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast, coffee, and OJ. "Of course I am." He was puzzled.
Teyla grabbed an empty plate from the end of the table and began transferring half the food over onto it. "Hey!" Sheppard protested. "Get your own." He stabbed at her hand with a fork.
"You have no idea how much physical activity you would have to do to justify that breakfast. I will not gain weight over this." She stopped the movement of food from one plate to the other only when she was satisfied the portion size was appropriate. She eyed the plate now in front of her speculatively and after only a brief consideration, sat down, picked up a fork and began to eat. She closed her eyes appreciatively for a moment as she chewed.
"But, that's what I always have for breakfast." Sheppard was irritated and he knew it was in part at the sight of 'Rodney' enjoying the food he had meant to have for himself. He placed a hand protectively over the glass of OJ, in part trying to salvage at least that portion of his breakfast and in part trying to keep Teyla from accidentally killing McKay.
"Different metabolism." Teyla said simply. "Life is unfair and we all must make sacrifices. I will provide you with a menu and a list of exercise routines. Speaking of which..." she suddenly fixed piercingly sharp blue eyes on him for an instant, before concentrating on her eggs, "rumor has it that Major Sheppard was seen leaving your quarters at a very early hour this morning...with a big smile on his face and wet hair."
John felt his mouth sag in shock. He looked at Teyla in horror. Impulsively, he reached across the table for her hand, which she deftly moved out of his reach and continued eating. "I am so sorry." He was sputtering now. "I didn't think...it's not what it looks like..." She shot him a look of 'of course it's not!' but there was some concern just the same. This was not going well. Teyla laid down her fork and stared at him. Well? Her expression said it all.
"Well," Sheppard repeated the unspoken word. He suddenly grinned. "You know John." He leaned into the table in his best approximation of sharing a girlish confidence. "He can't do a thing with his hair."
The peals of laughter had the entire mess hall turn and stare at the sight of McKay and Teyla helplessly giggling together over the table
Elizabeth had just stepped into her office a moment before heading down to breakfast when she was greeted by 'Sheppard' with the morning report for her. She surreptitiously checked her watch--this was way ahead of the usual schedule. She couldn't help thinking as she listened to Ford's brisk run-down of the status within the city that though it was refreshing to get such an efficient update, she missed the typical smart-ass observations that she had come to expect with her reports. Not that she would ever admit as much to the Major.
Equally refreshing was watching Ford's reactions every time a light would pop on or a door would spontaneously open as he walked with her to the mess hall. He looked like a little boy on Christmas morning as he paused to make one door open and close repeatedly with his thoughts, grinning at her over his shoulder each time he was successful. She wondered whether or not Ford would have the same gift for manipulating the Ancient technology in his "borrowed" body that the original owner possessed. She suspected the novelty would wear off for him soon enough though when Rodney, now back to lacking the ATA gene again, started demanding that 'Sheppard' drop everything and head down to the labs to help him test theories and artifacts.
A report from McKay (in a tersely worded email) stated that the only anomalies uncovered so far were the presence of a slightly metallic soil sample on the clothing of two party members, the presence of some rather unusual fungal spores on the clothing of three party members and the fact that one of Sheppard's dog tags was slightly bent and appeared to have a scorch mark on it. Various team members appeared at her door throughout the day--she had nothing new to tell them. A general uneasiness seemed to take over the city and its inhabitants.
The following morning, Dr. Beckett came into her office, frowning. He shut the door behind him. Elizabeth looked up from her papers, bracing for what was to come. "I'm a bit worried about Major Sheppard's team."
Wondering how she was possibly going to cover for them much longer, she strived for outward calmness. "What do you mean, Carson?"
"Are you telling me you hadn't noticed anything a wee bit...odd...about them since the gate accident?"
"Odd?" Elizabeth leaned back at her desk, appearing to consider what he had just said. "Odd in what way?"
"Well," Carson began expressively, his accent dragging out the word into two syllables, "for starters, there's the fact that Lt. Ford has been popping in and out of the labs for the last few days and people are starting to complain about how rude he has been."
Elizabeth nodded slowly.
"And not just that, but Radek tells me that he has been asking some fairly precise questions for someone of the lieutenant's background."
"Well, you know he has been assigned to assist Rodney on this gate problem. That has to be a bit trying for anyone and I am sure Rodney has been riding him on what questions to ask as well."
Carson looked at her doubtfully but continued. "Well than there's Rodney himself. Half the time he acts like he doesn't remember conversations the two of us have had. And once when Radek started a round of their Prime/Not Prime game, he asked for an explanation of the rules."
Oh dear. Poor Teyla, she thought. "I'm sure he was just pulling Radek's leg. You know how he gets about answering questions or playing 'stupid' games when he is really busy."
"What about the fact that he and Teyla keep popping up everywhere giggling like schoolgirls?"
Elizabeth had to bite her lip on that one and remember to store it away for future ammunition.
"Not to mention, Teyla." There was a sudden, heavy emphasis on her name. Carson got very indignant. "Teyla threatened to break my fingers during the course of a physical exam. She refused to have one! And the Major is looking really stressed out--when I tried to talk to him about it, he just snapped at me that he 'had everything under control'. I am really getting worried."
"I'm sure it's nothing, but if it will make you feel better, I will have a talk with each of them individually." She got up and escorted him to the door. When he was gone, she sat down on the edge of her desk and rubbed her temples. The hell with aspirin; she wondered if there was any tequila anywhere in the city.
Not too long after that, Sheppard drifted into her office. Inwardly she sighed. You could almost set your watch by him. She opened her mouth to tell him that she didn't have any news and the instant she did have news, he would be the first person she would call, but he came in quietly and sat down in the chair across from her desk. He looked very vulnerable somehow and she bit back the words.
"You got any good books to read?" He was slumped in the chair in a very un-Teyla-like fashion. She felt herself cocking her head slightly at him. Back on earth, her home had been filled with books; books stacked precariously in odd corners everywhere.
"What's wrong with War and Peace?" she said lightly.
He made a face. "It's too depressing. I'm beginning to think you can't read it without a fifth of vodka by your side. I want something different. Something..." he trailed off.
"Something lighter, more fun?" She suggested, opening a desk drawer. Hopefully what she was looking for was still here; there was a possibility it was in her quarters. She rummaged around in the back of the drawer and then smiled. "I have just the thing." She pulled out a flash drive. "Here we go--the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries. I have a bunch of them here, but I suggest you start with Strong Poison." She handed the drive across the desk.
John took it doubtfully. "Lord Peter Wimsey? I'm guessing that there are no hot babes, car chase scenes or explosions here."
"No." Elizabeth smiled. "This is an English murder mystery written in the 1930's. Bodies in that era generally end up discretely dead in the library and everyone sits around talking about how it got there."
"Wow. Sounds just 'dandy'. Thanks." He flipped the drive in his hands several times and just sat there looking depressed. Obviously a new book was just an excuse. She somehow doubted that a nice hot cup of tea would make things better today. She came around to the front of her desk and seated herself on one corner. "How are you holding up?" She expected the question to cause him to bolt up out of the chair with some smart-ass comment on his way out the door, but he just sat there.
He sighed. "I can't fly. And I can't hear the city any more." He looked up at her and she desperately wanted to go over and give him a hug. "You know," he continued, "its not like the city talked to me or anything, but I could always kind of hear it before--like background noise."
Her voice was soothing. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you that a solution was at hand but..."
"What if there is no solution?" He voiced the one thing no one had really admitted was the most likely outcome all along.
"Then we will all muddle through the best we can." She hesitated, then stood up and went to her filing cabinet, unlocking a drawer with a small key from her pocket. Curiosity made him sit up straighter in his chair. She brought out a small packet with a flourish. "Here. I saved these for emergencies."
"I am not going to eat your chocolate, Elizabeth." John waved her off, but still looked slightly interested.
"Heathen!" Her voice was scornful. "This is not just any chocolate. This is Godiva. Trust me, there's a difference."
Elizabeth had just returned to her quarters that evening and was wondering what she would do about dinner when the door chime sounded. She inwardly groaned. Now what? When the door opened, Rodney McKay came sailing through, bearing a covered plate and a paper bag. "I brought pizza and ale." The voice was cheerful and relaxed. It took Elizabeth a moment to process what she was seeing as she watched 'McKay' deftly deposit the pizza on the table and turn with grace towards her. 'McKay's' expression fell when their eyes met. "Oh, Elizabeth." The voice was full of disappointment. "You didn't forget our movie night, did you?"
"Er, uh, no." Elizabeth lied. "I just forgot what day it was."
Teyla beamed at her and began unwrapping the pizza. "Sausage and mushrooms, no green peppers, right?"
"Right." She reached for the bag of ale and lifted out two cold bottles, condensation running down the sides. "You're not worried about...indigestion?"
Teyla made a face. "Dr. McKay is not nearly as sensitive as he would have us believe. I think it is just an excuse for his actually liking your MRE's."
"I still have some beer, you know." Elizabeth suggested.
Teyla grimaced again. "Normally I like your beer, I really do. But it tastes...weak to me somehow now. And coffee? For some reason, just the smell of it is enough to make me desperately need a cup. I really crave it first thing in the morning when I get up." She pulled off a slice of pizza and twisted the extra cheese around onto the piece before taking a bite. Elizabeth was in the act of finding some plates, but settled on just napkins instead.
Curiosity got the better of her. Opening a bottle of ale for Teyla and then a beer for herself, she sat down at the table. "Have you noticed any other differences?"
"You mean besides the obvious ones?" Teyla's grin was positively evil and Elizabeth found herself snickering. She appeared to consider the question. "Well, let me see. I find it unfair that someone who is not what I would consider particularly athletic is stronger than I am at my very best. I also perceive things differently now. I can walk into a room and have a pretty good idea what its dimensions are--I've measured them to prove this and the very fact that I resorted to actually doing that is in and of itself...different." She took a long pull at the ale. "I also seem to picture things differently in my mind--fewer words, more...things." She struggled with the right descriptive and then shrugged. "And then do not even get me started on the sex..."
Elizabeth spat beer across the table and sat up choking. She swabbed at her shirt and the table with a napkin and said accusingly, "You waited until I had my mouth full on purpose!"
"Yes." Blue eyes twinkled. "My sense of humor seems to have become really immature now." Elizabeth thought about what Carson had said earlier and it made more sense. She had a sudden vision of Teyla telling Sheppard tomorrow, "I made Elizabeth spit beer."
Teyla went on. "I will be talking to someone or busy working on some project and suddenly--zoom!" She mimicked a fast moving object across her field of vision. "I get this sudden thought about sex! Elizabeth, I'm serious. It happens all the time. I honestly do not know how men get any work done."
Elizabeth wondered if it was possible to die from laughing too hard. They never did end up watching a movie. Later when the pizza was gone, Elizabeth asked Teyla how she thought the others were holding up. She shrugged helplessly. "I do not know," she said at last. "Dr. McKay seems like his usual self, but he is often far more angry rather than merely annoyed. The Lieutenant seems to be embracing the mantle of leadership rather tightly; rumor has it that the people in his command are starting to grumble. And the Major...well, he acts as though he is simply having a good time until things get back to normal but he seems rather directionless..."
Elizabeth nodded. "He doesn't know what to do with himself. He's worried this will be a permanent state of things."
"Well, I suppose if this does continue on for oh, say, another week or so, a discussion regarding certain physiologic issues may be necessary." Teyla said obliquely. Elizabeth sputtered and choked on her beer once more.
Teyla was curled up in a chair across from Elizabeth, feet tucked under her legs as she sipped the last of the ale. The sight was so odd that Elizabeth had to remind herself several times during the course of the evening that this was Teyla she was speaking to.
"How about you?" Elizabeth asked suddenly.
Teyla's smile was rueful. "I was quite worried at first about pretending to be someone of Dr. McKay's intellectual background. But I soon discovered that if I was really rude, then no one questioned what I said or did." Elizabeth burst out laughing again, and Teyla chuckled with her at first but soon fell back into seriousness. "None of us can keep up these roles for much longer. We either need to find a solution or give up and accept our new lives." She stretched out her legs and stood up. "It is getting late and I have an early appointment with myself in the morning. A little sparring match."
Elizabeth followed her to the door. "Aren't you going to have a problem explaining what you are doing sparring with 'Teyla'?" She asked as the door opened.
"Of course not." Teyla was smug. "I can do whatever I want. I am Rodney McKay."
He was running late but he was starving and since he was already late, a quick stop at the mess hall would do no harm. He was headed for the food when he saw Elizabeth seated at a table and he slid into the seat across from her. "Lord Peter," he announced, "is a wimp."
"He is not." Elizabeth said in mock indignation, but smiled up at him over her coffee. "That is just a role he plays--if you notice, that behavior becomes more pronounced when he is bored, or under stress."
"Why can't he get a real job like everyone else?"
She sighed. "Because he is trapped by the societal role into which he was born. WW II will come along and change all that, but right now, he is an intelligent man who cannot be the person he really is and he has responsibilities that he cannot walk away from."
"Oh." Sheppard thought for a moment. "I still don't see what Harriet sees in him."
Elizabeth felt like bipping him over the head. Who would not want a Lord Peter in their lives? Well, okay, maybe John wouldn't understand. She tried instead to think how she could best describe an entire series of books in one or two sentences. "Lord Peter," she said at last, "allows Harriet the gift of truly being herself. No acts, no roles, no pretenses."
"Oh." Sheppard said again. He reached across the table suddenly and pointed at the muffin on her tray. "You gonna eat that?"
"I thought you were on a restricted menu." She pushed the tray towards him. He snagged the muffin and jumped up from the table.
"I'm in stealth eating mode." He gave her a cheeky grin as he left the mess hall.
It was all he could do not to laugh when he entered the room where he and Teyla normally had their sparring matches. Teyla had obviously been there some time and was in the middle of an elaborate pattern of weaving with her sticks. Still, what he saw was Rodney, barefoot and dressed in a t-shirt and old sweats, perspiration running down the side of his face and neck.
Hah. For once this is going to be so easy. He was still grinning when Teyla stopped and turned to look at him. "You are late." Her tone was tart.
"Well, now Teyla," he sauntered into the room, having discovered that Teyla's dancer-like grace was well suited to this movement. "You know how long it takes a girl to get ready in the morning." He wasn't about to admit he had been up half the night reading Strong Poison.
Teyla rolled her eyes at him and followed him over to where he lay down his bag. She scooped up a towel from her own bag and mopped her brow. "It does not take that long and you know it."
"Well, for starters almost of your clothing seems to have these lace-up thingys. And it is difficult getting dressed with your eyes closed." He gave her his best 'aren't I being a good boy' smile.
"Why would you do that?" Teyla seemed genuinely puzzled.
"Well, because." John was slightly nonplused. "I am trying to be a gentleman."
Teyla stopped wiping her face and neck and peered at him over the towel. "I did not think to do that." She said consideringly. The look she shot him was deliciously wicked and there was a faint flush on her cheekbones. He could not tell if it was from the recent exercise or not.
"Tey-la!" He exclaimed.
"What?" Teyla grinned back at him. "I have nothing to be ashamed of." That comment could be taken so many ways. He felt a sudden rush of heat in his abdomen combined with a tightening of muscle. Wow. That was different. He found himself staring at Teyla and wondering if he was reacting to her as Rodney from the perspective of himself as Teyla, or if it was really himself reacting to Teyla as herself, or himself reacting to...he scuttled away from completing that thought. The whole thing was just too weird.
He was relieved when the door to the room opened but that relief was short-lived when Rodney entered the room. "Ah-hah!" Rodney was triumphant. "I thought I would find you two in here." He was carrying a gym bag but was wearing the usual black T-shirt and military-issue pants and boots.
"What are you doing here, Rodney?" Sheppard was sharp. Hell, why wasn't he out there solving their predicament for crying out loud?
"Supervising. Pay no attention to me. I will just set up shop over here..." he sat down at the bench against the wall and pulled a laptop from the gym bag. "Since you two have seen fit to involve me in your sparring match whether or not I wish to be used as a punching bag..."
Sheppard and Teyla spoke at the same time, but Rodney waved them off. "No, no, far be it for me to spoil your fun. Never mind that I am working day and night trying to come up with a solution while the rest of you enjoy yourselves--doing whatever it is you do when you're not working."
Sheppard started to respond but Teyla cut him off. "It wouldn't hurt for you to learn to work with distractions. Just ignore him and concentrate on the routine."
He could have told Teyla that facing off against 'Rodney' was distraction enough without an influx of caustic comments from the peanut gallery. Fortunately, although Rodney made only a token attempt at working on the laptop, he remained silent as he viewed their routine. When Sheppard glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he appeared to be watching in somewhat amazed fascination. John himself could understand why. It was a little unnerving watching 'Rodney' advance around the room towards him with such grace and power. The first time their sticks connected, John was shocked at the stinging force that radiated up to his hands. This wasn't going to be as easy as he thought.
Time and again, when he thought he had an opening, Teyla blocked him effortlessly. Though he could see she was tiring, an advantage he intended to press, all the moves he thought he had previously mastered continued to fail against Teyla's relentless onslaught. When a particularly intricate movement on his part ended with Teyla depriving him of one of his sticks, he took the moment to regain his breath. "Everything is out of balance," he complained.
Teyla paused as well, perspiration dampening the collar of her t-shirt in a small "v". "Explain."
"The weight of the sticks feels wrong. I can't move the way I want to. I'm too short." He glowered at Teyla and then felt guilty for doing so.
"Hah." The snort came from the bench. "As I recall, she usually whips your sorry ass with the very body you are complaining about."
"John." Teyla's tone said 'ignore him.' "You are thinking about this too much. The muscle memory is there. You need to just let go and stop fighting it. Do what comes naturally."
They took up positions again, and he tried to make sense of what she had said. How could you be on alert for the next strike and let go of what you wanted your body to do at the same time? 'Letting go' was just not something that came 'naturally' to him but deep down, he knew she was right--it was the same for every new weapon, every new fighting technique he mastered. He took a deep breath and released it, only to receive a sharp rap on his elbow for not paying attention.
"Come on, your opponent is me for crying out loud! Is that the best that you can do?" It may have been Ford's voice, but it was McKay's sneer all the way. Suddenly his arms seemed to move of their own volition, the pattern of the dance unfolded in front of him and he executed a series of swift moves that had Teyla buckle with a strike at the back of the knees. She tried to block an upward thrust of his sticks but her own crossed sticks could not stop the blow and her hands flew upwards violently. She fell over backwards, landing hard on the floor.
"No, that's the best I can do!" Sheppard snapped at Rodney who stared aghast at what had just happened. Sheppard turned around to Teyla, who was still lying on the floor with one hand over her face. Blood was trickling between her fingers. "Oh my God. Teyla!" John was in turn aghast.
He and Rodney arrived at her side together. He began to apologize at the same time Rodney was yelling, "So help me God, Sheppard, if you've broken my nose..."
They both tried pulling her hand away and she resorted to swatting at each of them in turn with her free hand. "Towel." She spoke indistinctly. John leapt to his feet and dashed over to his bag for a clean towel and came back as rapidly as he could.
She reached for it with the bloody hand and Rodney practically swooned. "Call Carson and tell him we have medical emergency!" Rodney managed to make even Ford's voice rise in pitch.
"Oh for heaven's sake, Rodney. It's not that bad." John was clearly irritated. "It's just a bloody nose." To Teyla, in a completely different tone he said, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. Are you all right?"
The flow of blood was slowing to a trickle. Teyla blotted her nose a couple of times and sat up. She started to rise and John moved in to help her to her feet but Rodney got between them and muscled him aside effortlessly. "I think you should go to the infirmary right away."
"She just needs some ice."
"That's not your decision to make." Rodney's voice was cold. Teyla made eye contact with John and then rolled her eyes expressively. It made him feel a little bit better and a whole lot worse all at the same time.
"I am fine." She shook off Rodney's grip on her arm. "These things happen during training sessions. I will go to the infirmary for some ice. I do not need an escort." She exited the room with extreme dignity.
Rodney turned and stalked back to the bench, packing up the laptop and viciously stuffing it into the gym bag. John followed him. "Go ahead and say it, Rodney."
Rodney slammed down the bag with such force that John winced for the laptop inside. "'Go ahead and say it?'" He took a step in towards John and glared down at him. "Like that would do any good! You're just going to continue to go waltzing through the universe with no thought as to the consequences of your actions. Act first, think about it later...or do you even ever think about it at all? Maybe it hasn't occurred to you, but the rest of us don't have your knack for landing on our feet every time. But no, I don't suppose that would occur to you. What is it going to take, someone getting killed?"
John felt his mouth drop open. "You know," he began hotly, taking a step towards Rodney himself. "You've said some pretty snarky things to me in the past, but that goes way beyond rude. Now you're just being mean." To his horror, his voice started to break and wobble. "I...I wouldn't deliberately hurt any of you guys for the world." He blinked his eyes very rapidly, struggling for control.
"Aw Jeez, John." Rodney's expression wilted and he lowered his face down to peer into John's eyes more closely. "You're not going to cry, are you?"
"Of course not." His response was firm. He lifted his chin to meet Rodney's eyes. "You just really pissed me off."
Rodney sighed with relief. "Good. Good. I mean, not good that I pissed you off. I'm sorry about that. You know I didn't mean it. It's just ..."
"I do think about the consequences of my actions, you know."
"Glad to finally hear it." Rodney's tone was sarcastic again. He was still standing quite close; John had to look up to make eye contact. His expression changed slightly and his glance flicked downwards--suddenly John felt like Teyla should really get some more substantial workout gear at some point as well, like maybe some sweats for Christmas along with that robe. Rodney started to lean in slightly and John edged backwards.
"Uh, Rodney? What do you think you're doing?"
The expression on 'Ford's' face was unaccountably predatory. "Aren't you the slightest bit curious?" He made the word sound rich and decadent. John was reminded of the Godiva chocolate.
Curious? It wasn't like he hadn't given the subject any thought over the last few days. He was a guy after all. "Yeah, sure, I guess. But I have a lot of respect for Teyla."
"And?" Rodney persisted.
"And I'm afraid of her." This was just getting too weird. He placed a hand on Rodney's chest and gave him a slight but unquestionable push backwards. "Besides, I would never be able to look Ford in the eye again, which I am intending to do, because you are going to solve this problem, aren't you?"
Rodney pulled away, shoulders slumping. John suddenly realized just how tired Rodney really was. "I am doing my best. Yes, it is a gate problem and yes, I am the foremost expert in the field of gate technology..."
"It's a pretty small field, Rodney." Sheppard's tone was dry.
"...however," Rodney continued, glaring at him, "this may be an insolvable problem. No pressure, you understand, it's not like everyone isn't enjoying this little swap meet immensely and all, they just expect me to pull the answer out of the air like a rabbit from a hat."
"You'll figure it out." Sheppard reached down and picked up his own bag. "I have faith in you." It was a simple phrase, something that Teyla might have said herself, but he realized that he meant it. He turned to go but then paused and looked back. "This just now..." He pointed a finger back and forth between himself and Rodney. "That was just about 'scientific' curiosity, right?"
"What?" Rodney looked momentarily startled. "Oh yes, right. Of course, yes. Right."
"Right." Sheppard hefted the bag onto one shoulder and left the room.
He went to track down Teyla and found her in one of the small lounges, nursing a cup of coffee with one hand and holding an ice pack to her face with the other. After apologizing yet again, he took her chin in his hand, turning her face from side to side gently to survey the damage. Carson had put a steri-strip across the bridge of the nose to cover a cut; there was a beaut of a black eye developing on the right and a hint of one on the left. John took a chair across from her and put his head down on the table in mock despair.
"I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"
"Rodney will not be able to take you to task for this injury without revealing that a switch had taken place. As far as everyone is concerned, I am the one that dealt the blow. To keep bringing it up would be embarrassing for him."
John lifted his head with a grin. "Hey, you're right."
"Once things are back to normal, however, I predict your next session with me will be brutal." She got up from the table stiffly and went over towards the microwave.
"Okay, I deserved that." He watched her idly, believing her to be warming up her coffee, when he noticed that she placed a foil wrapped object in the microwave. "Whoa, Teyla, stop!" He jumped up and came over as she arrested her hand in the act of pressing the button. "You don't usually put anything metallic in a microwave."
"Why not?" She opened the door and retrieved the item from within.
"It can create some kind of an electrical arc inside the oven. Not a big deal, but it can sometimes do some damage. You have to use the right containers to avoid it." Teyla stood looking at the package of food, frowning. She looked up at Sheppard. "You don't think...?" She began slowly.
Sheppard jumped in. "Wouldn't hurt to ask the resident expert." They headed for the door.
In the end, he decided maybe he didn't want to hear the long technical explanation after all. He sat quietly in Elizabeth's office a few days later trying desperately not to scream while listening to Rodney go on at length about how the gate is actually nothing more than a giant superconductor and how the fungal spores, which proved to be radioactive, enhanced the effects of the metallic residue causing the dielectric breakdown of oxygen and nitrogen compounds when it came in proximity with the electric fields of the wormhole during transport, this in turn damaging a biofilter screening system that they didn't even know had existed before then, all resulting in a shift in physical bodies during reintegration. "Yes," he impatiently interrupted, "but will it work in reverse?"
"Weren't you paying attention? I just said that the conditions necessary to create this problem were so random and so difficult to control, the odds are so astronomical, well, if you wanted to calculate them...
"CAN it work, Rodney?" Elizabeth carefully rephrased the question.
"Well ... maybe. The only way to know would be to try it. We could go back to M7R-692, attempt to recreate the conditions and return. If it is successful then we can take the filter offline so this won't happen again until we figure out a way to fix the system."
"And if it's not successful?" Ford looked awful. Sheppard decided when this was all over, he would apply for a real vacation. A few days off-world. Just until everyone was no longer quite so pissed and Stackhouse and Bates were speaking to him again. Okay, he admitted, maybe a few weeks.
"If it's not successful; everyone plan on a change in quarters again." No one looked happy at the thought.
The team stood in the gate room awaiting the activation of the wormhole. The mood was tense. Zelenka was on hand to do his part in dismantling the biofilters, though he kept muttering in a combination of Czech and English about the justification for sending a team through at all. Carson drifted in as the gate opened. John glanced up at the balcony where Elizabeth stood looking down on them. She gave him a small thumbs up as he turned away to face the wavering aqua wall that was the event horizon.
He felt the familiar rush that occurred every time he stepped through the gate--the pull of reality ahead of him from within him, the sensation of extreme cold that took his very breath away, the disorienting last step that put him out over the ring into another world. He loved it; he could never get enough of it. The only thing better than walking through the gate was flying through it.
Once on the planet, McKay set to work immediately with his usual single-minded focus to identify sources for the fungal spores and metallic material. This meant re-tracing their steps over the course of their previous visit, but eventually both substances were located. John found it hard to believe that either the glittering sandy soil at a creek bed, or the benign-looking fungi growing along the path, could be responsible for so much trouble. Ford seemed almost too eager to roll in the samples if it meant he would be relieved of his "command" and Teyla was uncharacteristically cheerful about intentionally smearing dirt on her clothing. Of course, the fact that they happened to be inhabiting his and McKay's bodies at the moment may have been a factor. It was strange watching 'himself' playfully threaten to bean a giggling 'McKay' with a puffball of fungus. He had to intervene though when Rodney threatened to blow a gasket over the possibility of overdoing the deposition of the foreign material on their clothing. When McKay seemed satisfied the initial conditions had been as closely duplicated as possible, they dialed back to the city. Again, John faced the event horizon - taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. If this doesn't work...
The first words he heard were those of McKay shouting next to him, "Yes! Yes! OW!" He had suddenly stopped celebrating and put a hand to his nose. "That hurts!" He glared with venom at Sheppard. John never thought he would be so happy to see that expression aimed at him again. Teyla had given a squeal and jumped up in the air. She landed, hugged Ford and kissed Rodney on the cheek. She turned to John and without warning punched him hard in the arm.
"Hey!" He was indignant. Everyone else was in on this group hug thing and he was getting hit. "What's that for?"
"What is your phrase? 'Payback's a bitch?'" Teyla smiled sweetly.
Elizabeth had to pull her headset away from her ear during the cheering until after she heard Rodney announce that Radek could take the biofilter offline. Carson leaned in over Radek as he worked and asked, "What's that all about?"
"Tell you later." Radek muttered, so as not to be overheard. He had his ideas and he wanted to compare notes with Carson.
That night, Elizabeth headed to her quarters, amused at the way the tension in the city had suddenly dissolved, even though no one else had any idea just what had been wrong the last week. She had declined attending the one or two impromptu parties that had sprung up earlier in the evening. She was tired but pleased that things were currently right again in her world. She was ready to fall into bed, but decided a stop at her favorite balcony was in order.
She shouldn't have been surprised to see John leaning negligently against the railing, looking out across the vast sea in the moonlight. He acknowledged her presence with a sideways turn of the head, but did not speak.
"I would have thought you'd be at one of the parties." She joined him at the rail.
"I was." He indicated a half empty beer bottle dangling from one hand. "I guess I just needed a little time to myself."
"I won't intrude then." She started to turn away, but he stopped her.
"You're not." She came back to the rail and they stood in companionable silence for a while, looking out at the view.
"Everything pretty much back to normal then?" She asked at last. She gave a little shiver; it was starting to get cold.
"As normal as it ever gets around here." The sight of his familiar half-smile made her realize just how different things had been around here for the last week. "Except for the fact that I found myself reaching for a salad tonight at dinner. That Ford is apparently a bigger slob than I am. That Teyla is going to kill me during our next workout. Oh yeah, and Rodney isn't speaking to me, but we all know that won't last." His smile widened, inviting her to share the joke.
"Minor adjustments then." She cocked her head at him as he nodded. "I guess you won't be needing that flash drive anymore."
He retained a deceptively casual posture. "I'm not quite done with it yet."
"If you didn't like it..."
He turned to lean with his back against the rail. "I figured out that the cousin did it. I even know how he did it. What I can't figure out is how old LP is going to prove it."
She smiled broadly. He was going to appreciate the solution when he got to it; it was diabolically clever and she told him so. Yawning, she moved back towards the door. "Well, I'm turning in. Goodnight."
"Elizabeth."
She turned back to face him.
"Thanks." He looked like he wanted to say more, but fell silent.
"Don't mention it." She said lightly, heading back for the door.
"Trust me, I won't." He said in mock horror. "Done deal, never to be mentioned again. I don't ever want to think or hear about it again."
Maybe you don't want to be reminded, she thought as she re-entered the building. She thought again what Carson had said earlier. Just wait until I talk to Teyla...