Series: Moments Sacred and Profane

Title: MSP11: Lament for a Perfect Illusion

Author: Mice

Email: just_us_mice@yahoo.com

Category: Stargate: Atlantis, McKay/Beckett

Warnings: slash, dark angst, violence

Spoilers: The Defiant One

Rating: NC17

Summary: Rodney deals with the death of a friend. Peter Grodin has a not-so-secret admirer.

Archive: If it's on your list, you can archive it. If it isn't and you'd like it, just let me know were you're putting it.

Feedback: Feed me, Seymour.

Website: Mice's Hole in the Wall http://www.squidge.org/mice

Mirror: http://mice.inkpress.org

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to many other people. But if they were mine, they'd be having very interesting adventures.

Author's Notes: As usual, copious thanks to Jenji and Abylity for mondo excellente beta. Kusanagi Miko is the name I gave to a character seen in "Letters From Pegasus," though there are no spoilers for that ep here. She's referred to on the SciFi website as Miko. Dr. Kusanagi has been mentioned twice by name in the episodes so far, but we haven't seen her linked with the name as yet. I liked the character so much I had to add her. Many thanks to Cattie, my Language Czecher, who gives me Radek's lines.

~~~

Who can utter

the poignance of all that is constantly

threatened, invaded, expended

and constantly

nevertheless

persists in beauty

~~Denise Levertov, from In California: Morning, Evening, Late January~~

Rodney sat in Zelenka and Osbourne's quarters, facing off across the Go board with Nagazima Hiro. The man had kicked his butt at the game every damned Thursday night since he'd taken up the challenge, but he was finally starting to get the hang of it.

Peter Grodin was curled up comfortably in a chair, talking with Carson about some obscure British thing or other. Rodney wasn't really paying attention. The game took all his focus.

The door chimed then opened, but Rodney didn't look up.

"Hey Terr," Osbourne said. Terrence Hill was the lead archaeologist, a tall, rangy, grey-haired man. Everyone said he was older than dirt, though he wasn't quite sixty yet. He'd always rather reminded Rodney of a badly aging Indiana Jones.

The thing Hill had for Grodin had become a running joke with the Thursday Night Crew. Peter didn't actually believe Hill was serious. Rodney thought Hill wasn't too bad for a half-fossilized geezer, but Peter didn't care much for older men.

"Geoff." He could hear the grin in Hill's slightly North Carolina-tinged voice. "Evening, Peter."

"Terr." Peter smiled.

Rodney looked up to see a toothy grin on Hill's face. "How's my favorite sweet young thang?" Hill sat carefully on a cushion on the floor, resting his ever-present cane in his lap.

"I thought that was me," Peri Turner snickered. She was the middle and most timid member of the Lesbian Puppy Pile, an Australian in admin. She had luminous brown eyes and long blond hair that she always kept drawn back in a ponytail. Rodney knew it was purely a tease because none of the three had the slightest interest in anything with a penis. It was a great pity, in his opinion, as all of them were quite attractive. A guy couldn't help having fantasies after all, especially about chicks that looked like that.

Peter chuckled and shook his head. Hill tugged at the cuff of Peter's pants. "Come sit in my lap, little boy? I'll show you my etchings." There was humor glinting in Terr's green eyes.

"Etchings? Are you sure those aren't your wrinkles?" Peter said, looking down at him.

Hill laughed. "One of these days, Peter, you'll realize that old age and cunning are far better than youth and skill, and then you'll come dashing to me with open arms."

"No doubt," Peter said with a wink. "Fifty years from now."

Hiro poked him in the arm. "Pay attention, Rodney. It's your move."

Rodney looked back at the board and placed a stone.

"Oh, that's just pitiful," Hiro said. "I'm going to take that whole section in about four moves if you don't watch yourself."

Rodney looked more closely at the pattern. Hiro was right. "Oh, fuck," he muttered.

"You really should pay more attention when you play with Erin. She could teach you a lot."

Rodney grimaced. "You just enjoy gloating. I'm sure it alleviates the intense boredom of days spent filing paperwork on how many bullets Sgt. Bates' team used this week."

Hiro laughed. "You're just annoyed because I'm a better chess player than you are a Go player."

"Leave the psychoanalysis to Heightmeyer, Hiro. You're about as accurate as tarot cards." He didn't want to admit Hiro was right.

Carson chuckled. "Aye, Rodney. You never complain about how Hiro puts you to shame every Thursday." He reached over and ran his hand through Rodney's hair, mussing it.

"None for you tonight, Beckett," Rodney said, squirming a bit under the attention.

"Nobody here believes that," Zelenka said from his perch snuggled in Osbourne's arms. "You would whine for a week."

"That's nonsense," Rodney said. "I never whine."

"And I'd have to listen to you," Zelenka continued. "All day." He grinned at Rodney.

"You'd better make sure he gets some tonight, Carson," Peter said, chuckling. "Radek will complain to me if Rodney spends tomorrow whinging."

"In his typical manly fashion, I imagine," Carson said with a wicked look in his eye.

Rodney tugged at his arm. "Oh, you're *really* not getting any tonight." He gave Carson an evil grin.

Hill poked at Rodney with the handle of his cane. "Just don't get any ideas about Peter."

Rodney snorted. "Yeah, right. Like I'd do Grodin."

"Like I'd do you," Peter shot back.

"You could do me," Hill purred. "I wouldn't even resist."

Peter looked at him with a wry smile. "Not tonight, dear. I have a headache."

"Maybe not tonight, but how do we know you won't change your mind tomorrow?" Hill smiled an almost-sweet smile, green eyes flashing.

Lin Yao looked over at them. "You say that every night, you old chickenhawk," she said. She nuzzled Peri's shoulder.

Hill winked at her. "Hope springs eternal." He sighed and put a hand over his heart. "How can I resist such a lovely young man?"

"He is a handsome devil," Osbourne agreed with a wicked grin.

Radek elbowed him in the ribs. "You only say that because you used to sleep with him."

"Hey," Geoff said, "I have good taste. Look who I'm sleeping with now."

"Ah," Radek said. "I can't argue with this." He shrugged and smiled, looking slightly smug.

"Can we please stop discussing me like a shank of mutton?" Peter said.

"No," Rodney said. Laughter erupted.

Peter glowered at him. "When you're not watching, McKay."

"You'll do what? Mistranslate another Ancient inscription?" He placed another stone on the board, watching Hiro closely. Hiro stared at the stone.

"That wasn't my fault," Peter said. "The inscription was damaged, and Terr's team," Peter shot an accusatory glance at Hill, "mucked up the rubbings. The photos were bollocks as well."

"Lousy digital technology," Hill said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Never could quite get the hang of it." He sighed and shook his head. "Nothing else quite like a good draftsman's eye and a steady pencil."

"So let someone else take the photos," Peter said.

The door chimed again and opened silently. "Gall?" There was confusion in Osbourne's voice. The scientist at the door wasn't one of them, and they'd never had anyone show up on Thursdays who wasn't.

"I'm looking for McKay," Brendan Gall said.

Rodney looked up, irritated. "I'm off duty. If you aren't being devoured by Wraith or having a naquadah generator overload, go away."

"I just found something you're going to want to see." Brendan was bouncing just a little on the balls of his feet, excitement obvious in his every motion and the tone of his voice.

***

"Oh my god. This is amazing," Rodney said, staring at the computer screen. Gall had been right. The gravitational anomalies did in fact indicate the presence of a large satellite on the other side of the system.

Gall was nodding vigorously. "Do you know what this means?"

"It could potentially be a defense against the Wraith. My god." Rodney sat heavily in a chair and looked up at Gall. "That's damned good work. A vast departure from your usual incompetence."

Gall laughed. "You're just jealous, McKay. You wish you'd found it."

Kavanagh snorted. "That's a constant state for him."

Rodney wasn't about to admit it out loud, no matter how much it grated on him. "In your dreams, Gall." He grinned. "I'm gonna have to go check it out."

Gall grabbed his shoulder. "Hey! No way you're going without me! It's about time I got in some field work."

Abrams looked over from the next laptop. "No shit. Me too. You can't imagine how boring it is to sit here and listen to you rattling on about your allegedly heroic adventures offworld."

"Listen, guys, I'm not sure you're up for it. We're talking about something potentially dangerous here. You're both lab rats. Have either of you ever even fired a gun before?"

They both turned and glared at him. "Oh, get off your high horse, McKay. Just because you have more offworld time than the rest of us doesn't mean we're incompetent," Abrams said. "Besides, what the hell are we gonna shoot at on a dead satellite?"

"You just want to keep us out of the loop," Gall agreed. "Afraid we're going to outshine your fat ass?"

Rodney raised an eyebrow at them. "Fat? I'll have you know my ass is prime these days. And there's no way either of you two monkeys has a prayer of outshining me."

Gall snorted. "Prove it, then. We go on the mission."

"Yeah, right." Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair.

"He's just trying to grab all the glory, as usual," Abrams said.

Kavanagh nodded. "You're a prick, McKay. You never listen to anyone, and you keep all the plum assignments for yourself."

"That's bullshit," Rodney said. "I send people out all the time."

"Not us," Gall griped.

"Dr. Weir's already said we should go," Abrams added.

Rodney sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, you two can go." He turned to Kavanagh and poked a finger at him. "But *you* stay here. You're the last person I want on an offworld mission with me."

"I wouldn't trust you to watch my back if you were the last man in the Pegasus galaxy," Kavanagh sniffed.

"With good reason," Abrams muttered.

Kavanagh turned and glared. "I heard that." He stomped out of the lab.

"Fuckwad," Gall said. Rodney and Abrams both nodded.

Rodney turned back to them. "I want you two to check in with Sgt. Bates. You need to qualify on a handgun before you go offworld."

"Guns?" Abrams said. "I don't like the things."

"No gun, no go," Rodney said.

Abrams and Gall looked at each other. "So where do we find Bates?" Gall asked.

***

Rodney could barely hold his head up when they got back to Atlantis. Carson met them in the jumper bay with gurneys for the body bags. He looked at Rodney, concern in his eyes, but got his team to work quickly. Rodney just stood there as his friends were wheeled away.

He felt numb. Every time he blinked, he saw Brendan's brains sprayed around him on the deck of the Wraith ship. He'd had fifteen hours of nothing but time on his hands to brood. Even Sheppard letting him pilot the Jumper hadn't helped. He'd been too upset to fly anything resembling a straight course, and the Major had taken over again after just a few minutes.

Teyla had ridden with them and tried to talk with him, to keep him company during the voyage home, but he'd remained silent the entire time. He was glad, in a perverse way, that Markham's team had brought the bodies home.

"Rodney," Carson said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked down at the floor. "I'm so sorry, love."

Rodney shook his head. "This was my fault."

Carson gave him a shocked look. "That's bollocks, Rodney. The Wraith did this, and Major Sheppard says Dr. Gall shot himself."

"I brought them there, Carson. I handed Brendan the gun." His voice shook just as his body did. He didn't want to talk about this, not here, not now. He turned and fled, leaving Carson standing, speechless, behind him.

***

Carson had assigned the autopsies to Dr. Biro before the Jumpers had arrived home, and Carol Bentz was taking care of the Major's injuries. He knew Rodney would be in a bad way, but he hadn't expected the man to flee like that. He took a deep breath and went off to find his lover.

His first stop was Rodney's quarters, but the place was empty. He couldn't imagine Rodney dashing off for food first thing, so he sat for a moment to think. There were a couple of balconies they'd taken to visiting sometimes at night. It was possible he'd gone out to the former football field. Carson didn't think Rodney would go to the labs, where there would be people who had known Gall and Abrams. He sighed and rose. Nearest balcony first, he decided.

Rodney wasn't there, nor at the second balcony. He hadn't been out on the dock. At a loss, Carson went to the labs. People there were quiet and subdued, but none of them had seen Rodney.

Zelenka took him by the arm as he was leaving. "How is Rodney?"

"He ran off, Radek. He said it was his fault, and then was off like the devil himself was after him. I've been all around looking for him." He shuffled uneasily.

Radek nodded. "Do you want help to find him?"

"Not yet. If I haven't found him soon I'll let you know, but thank you." He patted Radek's hand.

"You let me know," Zelenka said. "I'm very worried for him. He gets so wrapped up in all his problems sometimes. This would be typical."

"Aye," Carson muttered. He headed off for the mess hall, just in case.

An hour later, he'd checked everywhere he could think of. There'd been no sign of Rodney, and Elizabeth had paged him looking for the man. She'd been very concerned that he hadn't turned up.

On a whim, Carson headed for the music room. It made a vague sort of sense to him that Rodney might associate it with something comfortable, considering the evenings they'd spent there together listening to impromptu concerts and performances.

This guess paid off. Rodney was sitting in one of the corners, staring at the stained glass window. The lights were off, though the late evening light was coming through, painting the room in somber colors.

"Rodney," he said softly as he approached.

Rodney turned to look at him, but didn't say anything. His eyes were hollow, almost vacant.

Carson sat next to him and rested a hand on his thigh. "Rodney, love, you shouldn't be alone right now."

Rodney just closed his eyes and bowed his head, not responding.

"Please, love, come with me. I'll take you home. I want you to stay with me tonight." Carson tugged at his leg gently. Rodney didn't move. Carson sighed and slid his arm around him.

"You can't stay here," Carson said. "People are worried for you. It's not like you to be so silent."

Rodney leaned into him slightly. "I don't know what to say." His voice was as hollow as his eyes, expressionless. "If I hadn't brought them, they'd still be alive. I should never have let them go."

"No one knew this would happen, Rodney. You can't blame yourself for not bein' able to see the future."

Rodney shook his head and stood. "All right. Let's go. I'm sure Elizabeth wants to debrief me."

"Are you sure you should do that just yet?" Carson stood with him.

Rodney nodded. "I want to get it over with."

"All right, then. I'll go with you." He followed Rodney off to Elizabeth's office.

***

Rodney hadn't eaten that night, and Carson was worried about him. He'd taken the man to the mess hall right enough, but Rodney had done nothing but push the food around on his plate. It wasn't like him to not eat, even if he was stressed. In fact, when he was under pressure he tended to eat more.

At the moment Rodney was lying in Carson's bed, sleeping fitfully. Carson was wrapped around him, just watching as he lay with his lover. Rodney had been nearly silent after his debriefing. He'd blamed himself when he gave his report, though Elizabeth insisted there was nothing he could have done under the circumstances. She'd commended him for saving Major Sheppard's life, but he'd dismissed the praise, saying that Ford had been the one who'd done that.

"Oh, mo leannan, what shall we do?" he muttered, running a hand through Rodney's hair. Rodney stirred but didn't wake. Placing a soft kiss on Rodney's cheek, he settled his head on the pillow and closed his eyes.

It wasn't more than a few minutes later when Rodney woke. He shot upright in the bed, nearly knocking Carson to the floor.

"Rodney!"

Rodney sat, gasping and looking around. He buried his face in his hands. "Sorry, sorry," he whispered.

Carson took him in his arms and held him. "It's all right, mo leannan." He was shaking and Carson held him tighter. "You're like to have nightmares for a while. Do you want something to help you sleep?" He rubbed Rodney's shoulder as he held him.

Rodney shook his head, his voice a little steadier. "No. No, I'm fine Carson. Just fine." He shrugged out of the embrace and lay back down. "Go back to sleep."

Carson sighed and lay down next to him again. "I think you should see Kate tomorrow." He put an arm around Rodney's waist.

Rodney snorted. "I don't need a shrink."

"You watched a friend blow his brains out, Rodney. That would shake anyone."

"I didn't see it," Rodney said. "He did it while my back was turned."

"Makes no real difference." He stroked Rodney's side gently. "You were there. You saw the whole thing. It's not an image a man's liable to forget. You're going to need some help with this, Rodney, and that's why Kate's here."

"I'm fine, Carson. Let me sleep," Rodney said. "I have too much to do tomorrow."

"I'd really prefer it you took the day off."

Rodney shook his head. "I can't. You know there's too much to do."

"All right then," Carson said. "Sleep if you can. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Rodney sighed. Closing his eyes, he took Carson's hand in his. "Tomorrow."

***

Zelenka sat with him in the mess hall as Rodney poked at breakfast. Carson had given up twenty minutes ago and headed off to the infirmary for work.

"This isn't like you," Radek insisted. "You're never this quiet. You'll give everyone stress headaches." Rodney just looked at him and sipped at his coffee. "And look! You're not even eating. What alternate universe did you fall in from? Come now, you have to admit that this is bothering you."

"I'm fine, Radek. Just leave me alone, okay?'

Radek shook his head. "Fine. Yes, yes, like Scully is always fine, Mulder."

Rodney narrowed his eyes. "You watched that?"

Zelenka shrugged. "Who didn't?"

"You'd never make it as Mulder," Rodney said. "Frohike maybe."

Radek stared at him. "What, that little old hacker?" He shook his head. "Not me. Maybe Terr. He has that dirty old man thing."

"He's not nearly short enough."

Radek straightened to his full height, which wasn't very impressive. "I'm not short."

"Dream on."

"I'll have you know I'm of perfectly average height," Radek insisted. "It's you who are abnormally tall."

Rodney snorted. He actually felt slightly better, teasing the man. "Abnormally tall? You're delusional. I'm not even 182 centimetres. The Major is taller than I am. Hell, half the military on the base are."

"You know they breed for that," Radek said with an evil grin.

"I always knew they were a different species," Rodney grumbled.

Radek raised an eyebrow. "Explain Siwicki."

Rodney looked at him for a moment. She'd been military. "I can't. She's an anomaly."

"Eat something," Radek said.

Rodney dropped his fork. "I'm not hungry."

"Muj boze, the world is ending." He threw his hands in the air and left the room, muttering to himself.

Rodney sighed and carried his tray to the counter. He had to get to the lab. He'd feel better there and he was already half an hour or so later than he'd intended. He could snap at his minions and bury himself in his work. That might stop all the horrible images from springing up unbidden.

He was feeling a little muzzy around the edges by the time he started in on his first project of the morning. Rodney was having a hard time focusing. Every few minutes his mind would drift in some random direction or he'd end up back in the Wraith ship with Brendan dead in front of him, blood and brains and bone spattered everywhere.

"Somebody get me coffee." He snapped his fingers, waving his hand in the air. "I'm dying over here."

Dr. Kusanagi hurried over. "Your coffee, Dr. McKay, just how you like it." He took a sip and motioned her away with his free hand, still looking down at the device before him.

She came by what seemed like every five minutes, refilling his coffee and annoying him with constant offers to bring him a sandwich or a chocolate bar. Finally, he'd had enough. "Are you sure you're not hungry, Dr. McKay?"

"Yes!" He snapped, whirling on her. "Yes, I'm absolutely certain I'm not hungry. I've consulted my stomach any number of times on this very issue. It's quite adamant at the moment and probably will be for the next five minutes, so *stop asking*!"

She flinched and slid behind a desk, dark brown eyes wide behind her glasses.

"You've got no reason to shout at Miko, McKay," Kavanagh growled.

"I shout at everyone," Rodney shouted back. He slammed the cup down on his desk, slopping hot coffee everywhere. "Ow, fuck!" He shook his hand and hurried to the sink to cool it off. "Ow ow ow ow..."

Kusanagi was next to him in an instant, trying to help but only managing to get in the way. "I'm sorry, Dr. McKay. Are you hurt?"

"My hand is boiled like some damned sausage! Of course I'm hurt!" He held it under the cold water, hissing.

"Jesus, McKay, you can't go five seconds without doing something idiotic," Kavanagh said. He tapped his radio. "Infirmary, this is Kavanagh. McKay's been stupid again. I'm sending him down there."

"You can't send me anywhere," Rodney insisted.

Kavanagh shrugged. "You want your hand to go all gangrenous, it's no skin off my nose."

"Gan... Oh, fuck you." Rodney pulled his hand out from under the water, shaking it away from his body. "I want you out scrubbing--"

"Rodney?" Carson's voice came over his headset.

"What!"

"I just got Kavanagh's message. What happened?"

Rodney stomped out of the lab toward medical. "I'll be there in a minute. My hand's all burnt."

He heard Carson sigh. "How bad is it?"

"It hurts like a motherfucker. What do you think, Iπm going to come to the infirmary for a papercut?"

Radek hurried up behind him and joined him as he trotted down the hall. "I heard what happened. Are you all right?"

"What's her name -- uh, Kusanagi -- she was constantly under my feet."

Radek sighed. "I heard you'd shouted at her. She means well. I think she's fond of you."

Rodney groaned. "Oh, that's the last thing I need. I thought everyone in the Pegasus galaxy knew I was sleeping with Carson by now."

Zelenka shrugged. "Some people only see what they wish. I get the feeling she is a little jealous."

"Jealous, eh?" Rodney snorted and grinned.

"Who would have thought?" Radek chuckled. They got to the infirmary and Carson was waiting for him, looking a bit distressed. He held out a hand to Rodney.

"Come on then, let me see it."

Rodney held out his hand and Carson led them back into an examining area. "Oh, this isn't so bad," Carson said. "No more than some first degree burns in the worst places. It'll hurt for a bit, but I'll give you some ointment that should do it for you. You'll have no damage here."

Rodney sagged into the exam table before him then edged his hip up and sat. "It's been a lousy day already," he muttered.

"Did you ever eat breakfast?" Carson asked as he salved and bandaged Rodney's hand.

Rodney shook his head, but that made him a little dizzy. "No."

"You've had no dinner last night, either. When was the last time you ate?"

Rodney had to think about it. "Um... I'm not actually sure."

Carson sighed. "Oh, bloody hell. You have to eat something soon or you'll be fainting on us."

"Passing out," Rodney said. "From manly hunger." He gave Carson a sour look.

"He didn't eat last night either?" Radek asked. "No wonder you're in such a foul mood."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence," Rodney said.

Radek shook his head. "Next you'll be confusing your equations, Rodney. I've seen you like this before. You need to eat before you fall over."

"I'm not hungry."

Carson finished bandaging his hand. "If you won't eat, I'll hook you up to an I.V."

Rodney gave him a horrified look. "Oh, now wait a minute. You're not sticking me with any needles."

"Food or an I.V." Carson's expression brooked no argument.

"I know which I'd choose," Radek said. He leaned against the exam table next to Rodney and crossed his arms.

"Okay. You win. Food." He sighed, resigned. "But first, I read Kavanagh the riot act."

"For what?" Carson asked.

"Dismissing me from my own lab. I need to put him back in his place, and I was about to when you paged me." Rodney gave Carson an annoyed look.

"Right enough," Carson said. "But then you eat."

***

"How is everyone?" Peter asked, stretching before he sat down for dinner.

Carson looked up at him. "It's been a long day," he said.

"Have a seat," Geoff said, gesturing.

"Look," Radek said. He nodded toward the chow line. "Terr's watching you."

Grodin sighed. "Watching me?"

"A lot of people watch you," Geoff said. "I know I did." He grinned.

Peter snorted. "You're rather watchable yourself."

Osbourne chuckled. "Glad to know you can still appreciate me."

"Ten to one, he sits next to you," Rodney said.

Peter looked surprised. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he has a crush on you," Geoff said.

"Oh, that's not possible." Peter's eyes widened. "Is it?"

"Looks that way to me," Carson agreed.

Rodney just snorted. "Lay money on it." He was staring at his bowl.

He'd been doing that for quite a while, actually, Carson realized. "Rodney, you need to eat something. It's getting cold." He nudged Rodney gently with an elbow.

Rodney looked at him, annoyed. "Leave me alone, Carson. I'll eat." He poked at his food and raised a bite to his mouth. "Look, I'm eating." He stuffed it in his mouth and chewed. "Eating," he muttered with his mouth full. His face pinched. "Damn, that's disgusting when it's cold." He swallowed with obvious distaste.

"It's disgusting when it's hot," Radek said.

Peter sat down with them and nodded. "I'm not even sure what it is."

"Karpu root stew," Rodney said. "Something Bates' team brought back about a week ago. I have no idea why they thought this crap was edible."

Carson sighed. "It's nutritionally sound, and it's filling. Lately that's been a bit of an issue and you all know we're running low on what we brought with us. We've got to stretch any way we can until the hydroponics and the crops from the mainland are ready."

"Doesn't mean we have to like it," Geoff said.

Terr came limping over, tray in one hand, cane in the other. "This seat taken?" he asked, and sat down next to Peter.

"We were expecting Siwicki," Peter told him, slightly distressed. He looked meaningfully at Hill.

Terr shrugged. "I guess she'll just have to find another seat. First come, first served, I always say. How was your day, my boy?"

"Same as always," Peter said with a shrug. "Open the Gate, close the Gate, fix things, follow Dr. Weir around." He chuckled. "That part's not too bad. At least she does interesting things."

Terr took a bite of the stew and chewed it thoughtfully. "Hmm. Not bad." He dug in. Everyone stared at him.

"Not bad?" Radek said, astonishment in his voice.

"Reminds me of turnips," Terr replied. "I like turnips."

Osbourne made a face. "No wonder I can't stand it. I hate turnips."

"Your taste buds have obviously curled up and died," Peter said.

"Why couldn't it have been beets?" Radek asked. "At least then we could have borscht."

Rodney stared at him. "If I ever see another beet," he muttered, "I'll volunteer for the Feed the Wraith Foundation." He paused a moment and paled then recovered himself. Carson cringed inwardly. The others were uncomfortably silent for a moment.

"You only hated Russia," Radek said. "It's no excuse to hate something good like borscht."

"The food was appalling," Rodney insisted.

Zelenka snorted. "Barbarian."

"But still, Rodney," Carson said, "you need to eat. Remember, if you don't eat, I poke an I.V. in you and you can just suffer through it. That, or you can pass out from manly hunger again."

Everyone laughed except Rodney. He gave Carson a withering look then glared down at his bowl. "Cold karpu root stew," he said, with sarcastic enthusiasm. "My favorite." With a heavy sigh, he started eating.

Carson sighed and ate as well. It really didn't taste very good. Hill was right. It did vaguely remind him of turnips. Real turnips weren't quite this... muddy tasting, though. He wouldn't have minded actual turnips.

"So Peter," Terr said, "would you consider joining me a little later for a drink?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "A drink?"

"Got some of that Athosian wine," Terr purred.

"Um... uh... I don't think so. I have to... uh... get up early tomorrow." Peter was clearly flustered, his eyes wide.

Terr shrugged. "Your loss, my boy."

Siwicki came over, carrying a bowl and a little bottle. "You guys got room for one more?"

"You'll have to grab a chair from over there," Radek said, gesturing to the nearest table.

"That's not a problem," Peter said. "I was just leaving. Uh... early night. I'll see you all tomorrow."

"Oh, I'm sorry Peter. Sleep well, then." She set down her bowl and sat in Peter's chair. "Hey," she said, looking at Rodney. "How are you doing?"

Rodney looked up at her. "This stuff sucks."

She sat and took a bite. Opening the bottle, she shook hot sauce all over the stew. Another bite and she looked reasonably pleased. "It's not so bad," she said.

"Not so bad?" Geoff asked. "Tastes like dog vomit."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "And how would you know?" she asked, chuckling.

Carson smiled. "I don't think I want to know the answer to that one."

"Please," Rodney said, "I'm trying to eat here."

"How can you eat that?" Radek asked.

Erin shrugged. "Well, it's better than palmetto grubs and locusts. Besides, with enough hot sauce, almost anything is edible."

"Locusts?" Rodney asked, turning a bit green about the gills.

"Palmetto grubs?" Radek said, going equally green.

"Anthropologists'll eat anything when they're in the field," Terr said. "Not like they have much choice." He grinned at Erin.

"Oh, I am so out of here," Geoff said, picking up his bowl and fleeing. He looked distinctly nauseous.

"Squishy sciences strike again," Erin giggled and kept eating. "Hot sauce, anybody?" She waved the bottle at them. Rodney took it and shook it on his stew. He took a bite.

"She's right," he said. "It is better with hot sauce. I think it's killed my taste buds."

"At least you're eating," Carson said. It was a start. He hoped Rodney would start to talk about what had happened on his mission soon.

"Yes, Carson. Eating. This is me eating." Rodney rolled his eyes and tucked back into the now spiced stew.

Siwicki looked at Rodney, concern in her eyes, but said nothing. Carson listened as the banter continued around him, watching Rodney now and then. Rodney was still uncharacteristically quiet and he wasn't responding to anyone with his usual amount of sarcasm. Carson shifted uncomfortably and turned back to his food.

***

Carson had spent another restless night, this one at Rodney's, as his lover woke repeatedly with nightmares. Each time he'd insisted he was 'fine' and told Carson to go back to sleep. Neither of them had managed much.

He lay in bed with his eyes closed as Rodney showered, trying to catch a few extra minutes to stave off exhaustion. He'd given a moment's consideration to joining Rodney there, but Rodney was in even worse shape.

Rodney returned, a towel wrapped around his waist, and sat on the bed to get dressed. "I need breakfast," he muttered, "but my stomach is killing me. I'm probably getting an ulcer."

"You're not getting an ulcer, love, you're just very stressed and upset. You've barely been eating since you returned, so I'm not surprised you've an upset stomach." He rolled toward Rodney and ran a hand down his still damp back.

"Stress? What stress? My life is perfect. People are dying all around me, but I'm fine," Rodney snapped.

"Rodney," Carson said.

Rodney sighed and sagged. "Sorry."

"Rodney, I think you should go talk to Kate." He sat and nuzzled Rodney's neck, tired and bleary eyed.

"I'm fine, Carson. Really." Rodney was quiet but adamant.

Carson sighed. "You're not fine, Rodney."

"No, no. I'm good." Rodney stood and dropped the towel, pulling on pants and trousers. He sat to put on his socks. "I need to get in to work. I was late yesterday. There's so much to do. Without Gall and Abrams, everyone's..." His voice faded as he slipped his shirt on over his head.

Carson put his arms around Rodney's waist and held him, chin resting on his shoulder. Rodney just sat, silent, for a few minutes. With a shrug, he moved from Carson's embrace and put on his shoes.

"I have to go."

"I'll see you at lunch then," Carson said, watching as Rodney left without looking at him. This was bad. Usually, Rodney would wait for him and they'd go to breakfast together.

He got up and got into the shower, just standing under the hot water for a long time, letting it beat into the dull ache of his muscles. It took a while for him to wake up. He had a great deal to do today as well, not least of which was checking in on Major Sheppard, whose broken ribs were giving him nine kinds of hell.

Carol Bentz had done her usual fine job of patching up the Major. Carson had come to a tentative truce with her over her indiscretion. She'd been genuinely apologetic and said she hadn't realized how much trouble her discomfort would cause. He was still wary of her, but she was determined to right their working relationship and he was willing to work things out.

The autopsy results on Gall and Abrams had to be gone over. They hadn't previously had a chance to examine bodies fed upon by the Wraith, and any information would be useful. It could, in fact, be vital to their survival. The analysis would take up most of his attention for the next several weeks, if he were honest with himself. While it fascinated him deeply, it wasn't a chore he was looking forward to.

Between Biro's expertise in pathology and his own growing knowledge of Wraith xenobiology, he hoped they might start finding answers to all the questions raised by the existence of sentient creatures that fed off human life energy. He finished his shower, feeling clean but still not truly awake.

His first stop in the infirmary was with Major Sheppard.

"Hey, doc." Sheppard grimaced as he shifted on the bed.

"Good morning, Major. And how are you feeling today?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Lousy. You must think I'm gonna need to stencil my name over a bed here soon."

"Aye, there are moments when I've given it some thought." He smiled. The joking was good, even though Sheppard was obviously still in pain.

As he did his exam, Sheppard asked, "How's McKay doing?"

Carson sighed. "Not well, I fear. He's not wanting to talk at all about what happened. It's not utter denial, but it's not healthy either."

"He seeing Heightmeyer yet?'

Carson shook his head. "No, and I've not been able to persuade him. Maybe in a few days, when things have calmed a bit for him."

"He's really a mess over this," Sheppard said, grunting as Carson gently examined his ribs. "You should have seen him on the way home."

"You're looking a bit better today. I think we can release you to quarters tomorrow, if you'll keep to bed rest for another day or two after that." He looked into Sheppard's hazel eyes.

Sheppard nodded. "I think I could do that. Believe me, I'm not eager to go out wrestling Wraith again anytime soon."

"I'm thinking you'll not be fit to wrestle anything heavier than your fork for about a week, lad." Carson chuckled.

"Gee, thanks." Sheppard gave him a wry smile.

Carson noted Sheppard's chart and patted his wrist. "I'm off then for the rest of my rounds."

Sheppard caught his arm and looked him in the eye. "Carson, take care of Rodney. I'm worried about him."

Carson closed his eyes for a moment then looked back. "So am I, John, so am I."

***

Zelenka sighed, sagged at his lab bench with a cup of Athosian tea in hand, sweetened with just a touch of sour cherry jam. McKay had been pushing everyone like a slave driver all morning. He'd been much angrier than usual, and far more prone to explosions under the slightest provocation, or even no provocation at all. Radek had been the target of a good deal of it, but then he often was when McKay was in a mood.

He hoped Rodney would calm down after lunch, and wondered if the man had bothered eating breakfast. There really wasn't much he could do, though Rodney had become more of a friend in the past few months than a rival.

"Get away from that, you blithering idiot!" Rodney shouted at Simpson, who had been doing some repairs on a part from the environmental controls. "Let me have it!" Simpson slammed the part down on a lab bench and stomped out.

What would he have done, he wondered, if he'd gone along? He'd never been offworld, aside from the obvious departure from Earth through the Gate and their brief stint as refugees when the storm had come.

The Wraith terrified him. He'd not seen the result of their feeding, but he'd heard enough to know he never wanted it to happen to him. It was an ugly way to go, but worse to die and take both McKay and Sheppard with him. He understood why Gall had done it. He might have himself, under similar circumstances. McKay was more important than any of them wanted to admit.

"Get over yourself, McKay," Kavanagh snapped. "You've had your head up your ass since you got back."

Radek watched as the shouting continued, trying to ignore it. This wasn't easy.

He had become McKay's de-facto second since they'd arrived. Every now and then, in a fit of panic, Rodney would give him notes or information and tell him that if anything happened to him while he was offworld, he should take over where Rodney left off. It had never been particularly reassuring, but he was pleased and just a little flattered to know that Rodney regarded him so highly. Not that he would ever admit it; McKay's ego was already larger than Jupiter.

For all that, he'd come to like the man. Rodney was honest. You usually knew what he was thinking, even if it was self-centred and obnoxious. Coming to Atlantis had brought out some unexpected things in McKay, and being with Carson had taken a bit of the worst edge from him. There were moments when he was actually quite likeable now. Friendly, even. He'd never expected to see it, or to care about him.

That McKay had refused to speak of what happened when Abrams and Gall died was disturbing. Rodney was usually the first to complain when something was bothering him; apparently he believed that sharing his irritation was the best way to solve his problems. Radek was beginning to realize that the only times Rodney didn't complain about something bad was when it was very, very bad indeed. Overwhelming was the word that came to mind.

Radek sipped his tea, closing his eyes. Rodney was on the approach, eyes afire, and he suspected he would shortly have a volume-induced headache.

"Zelenka, why are you sitting on your ass when everyone else in here is working?" he snapped.

Radek sighed. "Because I'm tired and we're all entitled to a break now and then." He looked at Rodney. "You should probably take one yourself."

"There's no time. We have too much to do." He pointed to the pile of crystal slabs on Radek's lab bench. "That Jumper needs to be repaired before Bates' team can go out again. Get on it!"

Radek just rolled his eyes and set his cup down. "Fifteen minutes for a cup of tea is not going to put anyone off schedule, McKay."

"I'm sure Sgt. Bates will have a nice cup of tea with you when he comes in to ream my ass because you're not ready." The expression on Rodney's face was ugly, and far more impatient than usual. "Get moving!" he shouted.

"Polib mi prdel," Radek muttered, setting his tea down and picking up the slabs. "I'll be in Jumper bay." He gathered a handful of tools and walked out, leaving Rodney shouting in his wake.

He spent two more hours sweating over his work before he broke for lunch. Sgt. Bates hadn't been in nearly the hurry Rodney had implied, but Radek had doubted the unbearable urgency of it anyway.

On his way to the mess hall, he ran into Carson. "You're looking a wee bit distracted, Radek." Carson looked tired.

Radek sighed. "Rodney's being a prat. I know he's upset about Gall and Abrams, but he's taking it out on everyone around him. You need to talk to him, prÌteli."

Carson shook his head. "I've tried. He won't listen to me, as you well know. I've been trying since he got home to talk him into going to see Dr. Heightmeyer."

"And he's not cooperating, naturally."

"Naturally."

Radek shrugged. "I'm not sure how long the rest of us can take this. You know he's my friend, but sometimes, killing him is very appealing."

Carson smiled weakly. "There are days when I'd agree with you there, more's the pity."

"You are not sleeping, are you?" Radek put a hand on Carson's shoulder. Carson shook his head, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"No. Not well. He's waking a lot with nightmares, but won't speak of them."

"Somehow, this is no surprise."

Carson stopped and turned to Radek. "I don't know what to do sometimes. He's so bloody stubborn."

"I know," Radek said softly. He didn't envy Carson. Geoff was a much more stable personality in every way he could think of. "I'm sorry you're having to live with this."

Carson's blue eyes softened. "It's not so bad. He's different when we're alone, really."

"I can see he's changing and that you care for him very much. But still, he's a difficult man."

"Aye," Carson said. "And I know you're a good friend to him, though I'm not so sure he sees it right now."

Radek chuckled. "Yes, this is true. Better sometimes than both of us think, perhaps." He had to admit, at least to himself, that he was really quite fond of Rodney.

"I'm supposed to be meeting him for lunch, you know. If he's in a mood, you might not want to be with us." Carson looked apologetic, a shy smile on his lips. Radek sighed. Carson was a fine man and a good friend. He sometimes wondered if he didn't care a little too much for him. Maybe for both of them.

"You might not want to be with you," Radek snorted.

Carson smiled. "There's that, indeed. But we both know I need to be there."

Radek nodded. "I'll go and talk with Geoff for lunch. I think you two should talk privately anyway."

They started back down the corridor.

***

Dr. Biro had finally released the bodies for disposal -- a clinical word, and one not at all in keeping with the turmoil in Rodney's gut that chilled him to absolute zero.

Disposal. As though a human body was nothing but waste.

Rodney didn't believe in any kind of gods or a spirit world. He didn't believe in a life after death, unless one could consider Ascension in that category, and it was certain that neither scientist had Ascended. All the same, he stood on the pier with everyone else as Elizabeth spoke at the funeral.

Harry Gelbman, an Israeli oceanographer, said the Kaddish for Abrams. He'd been a Cantor back on Earth, and there were no Rabbis here, nor anybody from Abrams' family to sit Shiva for him, so some of his friends had been doing so. They'd asked Rodney if he wanted to as well, but he wasn't Jewish and it just didn't feel right for him to do something so inherently religious.

He had descended into anger from his initial numbness. He'd really preferred the numbness. He was unable to push the images of Gall and Abrams' dead bodies from his mind, and the spray of grey and red like some obscene halo around one side of Gall's blown open head, but he was doing his best to get back to normal. It wouldn't do to leave work undone because of their loss.

Every time he remembered he wanted to vomit, which was most of the time. It was no wonder he couldn't eat. Nothing tasted good. Everything gave him horrible stomach pain. He was sure Carson was wrong. It had to be some kind of ulcer, eating at the lining of his stomach. He was probably going to need surgery for the damned thing.

After everyone left, he stood for a long time, staring out to sea.

***

Peter Grodin sat with Dr. Weir in the mess hall. Major Sheppard sat across from them. He was keeping an eye on Sheppard a bit, without trying to give away his own interest in the handsome officer. It wasn't that difficult. He did it all the time anyway.

"I see Dr. Hill is looking this way, Peter," Elizabeth said. "Are you two seeing each other?"

Peter's eyes went wide and his heart sped up. "Oh, god, no. Whatever gave you that idea? He's really not my type."

Elizabeth tilted her head at him and smiled. "He seems quite interested in you. I've seen you around together, when I hadn't really seen you regularly with anyone else off work."

"I hear you like military guys," Sheppard said, grinning. His eyes were alight with mischief.

Peter's heart nearly stopped. "Wh-where did you hear that?" He'd had no idea Sheppard even suspected.