Archive of Our Own

When John wakes up, he's in his quarters.

Alone.

The last thing he remembers is walking through the gate on M3G-434.

"We have not visited the Vedeenans since Davos' death. I would appreciate the opportunity to find out how well Linara and her people are faring without his abilities to safeguard them."

Woolsey frowns for a moment as he recalls Davos' visit to Atlantis and then he nods, a rare smile gracing his face. "I think it's an excellent idea, Teyla. A perfect mission to allow you to ease back into things, as it were."

There's no one in the gateroom when John walks in. It's just as empty as the infirmary, the mess hall, the labs, and the hologram room. No one has responded on any communication channel that he's tried, there are no life signs on the scanners beyond his own, and the computer network shows no activity outside the scheduled routine checks. Atlantis appears to be as deserted as it had been 48,000 years in the future, although definitely in better condition. The city is still surrounded by water, the systems are functional, but John hasn't encountered a single person since he'd jolted awake from a nightmare about a Wraith attack.

He's no longer certain that he isn't still asleep.

In fact, he's hoping that he is, because that means all he has to do is wake up.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Sorry. Emergency. Teyla and Ronon are fine. Will be back asap.

John's almost positive that the email from Rodney hadn't been in his Inbox when he'd checked earlier. After he reads it, he can't decide if he's happy that Rodney is alive and somewhere else, or angry that he's left John behind in an apparently empty city. The problem is that John can't be completely certain he's the only person currently in Atlantis. Although everything had seemed to be working when he'd started his search, he's since discovered a few vital items that aren't functional after all.

The gate won't dial, the outer doors and windows are sealed shut, and the jumpers ignore his commands.

If he's not dreaming, then he's not going anywhere else anytime soon.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Where are you? What the fuck is going on around here?

It's taken him too long to realize it, but the lighting is subtly off, sounds and colors aren't quite right, and nothing has a taste or smell. He can still touch things, even injure himself, although the pain is muffled and fleeting and there's no visible damage. Combined with not feeling any hunger, fatigue, or thirst, even after hours of searching though the long corridors of the city, it all points to John being either asleep or unconscious. John speculates for a few moments on whether he's somehow fallen under the influence of the crystal entity again but, without anyone around for him to frighten to death in a dream, it seems unlikely.

He wonders why he's not as upset about what's happening as he normally would be, but his emotions and reactions seem as muted as everything else that surrounds him. They exist, but separately, as if sealed behind a thin layer of glass. Trapped without options, he counts the lack of pain or coercion as positives, and settles in to wait.

Unwilling to isolate himself in his quarters in case someone does show up, hopefully Rodney as promised, John carries his latest book to the mess hall. Taking a seat at the table his team usually occupies, the one that overlooks the east pier, he reads as the moons rise over the lonely sea. It's not as though he hasn't waited for rescue or dealt with downtime before, although he hopes he doesn't end up dreaming he's alone for six months.

Every two hours, he runs a circuit; control room, labs, jumpers, his and Rodney's quarters, back to the mess hall. On the second one, his laptop joins the book as entertainment in his solitude, his empty Inbox taunting him in between rounds of Minesweeper.

He tries not to imagine what the emergency was or what's happening to the rest of his team while he's not with them.

Eighty-six hours after he first woke up in his quarters, he's finished his book, watched every movie on his laptop twice, and lost $6,342.00 playing Vegas scoring in Solitaire. John is feeling less than charitable when a voice behind him points out, "You forgot to move the red eight over." He shrugs and deliberately moves a different card instead, refusing to turn around to look. Rodney thwarts John's low-key sulking when he slides into the seat opposite and slowly presses the laptop closed before blurting an apology. "I'm sorry that it took so long for me to get back here."

John grips the edge of the table and works hard not to shout, knowing that it would be the wrong way to handle Rodney, needing the answers John's been waiting for too long. After taking a deep breath, he looks up and asks evenly, "I'm assuming everyone's okay? You, Ronon, Teyla?" A smothered tension unwinds at Rodney's quick nod, and John's able to ask the second most important question. "Where the hell are we, McKay?"

Rodney's eyes are wide in distress; his mouth curves downward signaling acute discomfort rather than anger. "This is…." He reaches across the table toward John, but then pulls back as if afraid of what he might feel under his fingertips. "What's the last thing you remember?" he asks John, his frown lines deepening as he waits for an answer.

"Good. No flooding this time. Five minutes in, the mission score's still positive," Rodney mutters beside John, head down, the majority of his attention on the scanner in his hand. "It'll be great if it stays that way."

"We've visited this village before, Rodney. I think we'll be just fine," John pats Rodney's shoulder and then rests his hand atop his P90 as they walk through the field toward the buildings in the distance, enjoying the gentle warmth of the sun on his face.

"M3G-434," John recalls. "Checking up on Davos' people. When we got to the village…." Unable to remember anything beyond the edge of the field, John stops and waits for Rodney to fill in the rest. Somehow, John's not surprised when Rodney closes his eyes in pain and chokes out, "The Wraith attacked."

What does startle John is the flood of images those words release.

The first dart goes down before it can sweep up any of the screaming villagers, a fierce satisfaction sweeping through John as he watches the fireball blaze through the sky. Realizing they're under attack themselves, the remaining two darts make strafing runs, explosions leveling buildings between white culling beams.

Knowing they need to stop the darts from reaching the gate, Ronon breaks cover and speeds across the field, John and Teyla following in a staggered run until John hears Rodney cry out through the radio. John reverses direction, sending Teyla after Ronon, and a second dart breaks apart in the air just short of the gate as John runs back through the village, searching.

"It was only three darts, a raid, not a full culling, but we were sitting ducks." Rodney's hands twist restlessly on the table in front of him, and John reaches across instinctively to still them with a squeeze. With a gasp, Rodney draws back for an instant and then grabs John's wrist, his blue eyes opening wide with a look of relief washing away some of the distress.

Confused by Rodney's reaction, John starts to pull away and then forces himself to relax and ask a simple, "What's wrong?"

Rodney's fingers flex, pressing deep into bone and then softening, although he doesn't release John's wrist. Still recovering from the long hours spent alone, John allows himself the rare luxury of their faint warmth against his skin. With a sigh, Rodney drops his gaze and murmurs, "I've been so afraid that I might have missed something vital, a key component when I transferred you in here from the buffer, and then Ronon wouldn't let me come inside to check the last time because…."

John can feel tension winding up at the base of his neck, threatening at his temples, even behind the insulating layer. He tugs his hand away and then, with a harsh rasp to his voice, slices through the babble searching for the kernel of truth hidden behind the flow of words. "Transfer? I want some answers, McKay. Start with where we are and what we're doing here."

"We're at the outpost we found last year on MK5-887. Remember? On that red desert planet?"

"It would be nice if we actually found something useful left behind in these installations, like a ZPM. At this point, I'd settle for weapons we could take back to Atlantis. Instead, we waste my precious time and end up with nothing but a room full of stasis pods and a database that will likely take me weeks to wade through in order to find out that their experiments were as useless as all of their other 'quick and easy ascension' schemes."

"At least no one's inside the pods. We don't need another Aurora. What about the power? Doors are working, there's a shield, got lights; anything here we can use, McKay?"

"No, from what I can tell, the place has a solar-powered backup and been in standby mode for probably the last ten thousand years. We'd probably need to bring in a naquadah generator if we wanted to bring the system up to full power."

"Too hot and dry for an alpha site and nothing here we can use right away, so I'm calling it. We'll put it on the 'maybe we'll come back someday' list."

"You won't hear any arguments from me, Colonel. Give me ten minutes to finish copying this data and we're out of here."

"The place with the pods?" Looking away from Rodney, gazing out over the ocean that's just a shade off the right color of blue-green, John feels a wave of panic wash past him, leaving him oddly untouched. "Are you telling me we're in a virtual reality, like on the Aurora?"

Rodney sighs in exasperation, something John finds oddly comforting after the days spent in isolation. "No, it's a virtual environment like the Aurora's…but better." His chin tilts up in pride. "After all, they didn't have me around to correct all their mistakes and inefficiencies." A hand waves at their surroundings. "Looks pretty close to the real thing, doesn't it? None of that too bright lighting or those weird uniforms. I have some more upgrades ready to install…."

"Damn it, McKay," John interrupts, anger edging his voice at the Rodney's inability to stay focused. "You still haven't explained why we're in stasis pods, why we're at the outpost instead of Atlantis, and why I don't remember any of this."

Rodney deflates in his seat, his chin dropping as he mumbles, "I had no other choice."

"You're still not making any sense." Memories are nudging at the periphery of John's mind, flashes of light and sound without context.

explosions, shouts

"God, there's really no good way to say this, is there?" Rodney shoves back from the table and rises, walks away from John to stare out over the ocean.

running, searching, out of time

Standing, John joins Rodney at the window, grabbing Rodney's shoulder to force him to look into John's eyes. "Damn it, McKay. Quit stalling."

"I needed somewhere with power, somewhere safe so that I could leave you in the culling buffer until I could set up the rest." Rodney's eyes are dark with pain as he haltingly explains. "I couldn't take you back to Atlantis. They wouldn't have…I couldn't trust them to do the right thing."

searing heat, tearing pressure

"McKay."

no breath left to scream

"I couldn't just let you die."

The whine of darts overhead mingles with screams and explosions until the noise rasps bone-deep, his nerves flinching uselessly under the onslaught. The familiar slam of the weapon in his hands fills any brief spaces; its weight anchors him as he stumbles through the burning village in a desperate search. Sound and motion bursts from a doorway, his name a shout, and suddenly he's too high above a pale face with wide blue eyes, flying without wings, suspended in flame, dissolving into white.

"You were caught in an explosion right before you were picked up by the culling beam." Rodney's expression is bleak, all color drains from his face as he continues. "We stopped the dart, retrieved the buffer intact, got the villagers out, but you…you were dying. There was nothing anyone was going to be able to do." His tone shifts from monotone to pleading. "You'll have to take my word, but without a sarcophagus, which the SGC would never approve using, or some miraculous Ancient healing device that we haven't discovered yet...I couldn't…at least I was able to use the culling beam on you again before you…."

"Okay, got that," John drawls, deliberately suppressing the shudders that want to take control of his body. "Then you came back here with the buffer and decided to keep me on ice until what…you could figure out some way to put me back together like we did with Carson? Except I don't remember anything like this place happening when you put me in a pod for 800 years or so."

"I'd have to guess that I didn't have the equipment to work with then, or didn't consider keeping you entertained as important as getting you back to when you came from." Rodney shrugs and shakes his head. "It wasn't until after you told me what happened, and watching Carson stuck inside that stasis pod, that I decided to investigate the neural network and virtual environment. After I found the research and design in the outpost's database, I started working on it in my spare time, sort of a hobby. I was thinking of constructing a virtual game room for you and me, to replace the one we shouldn't have been playing."

A flush of pleasure warms John, despite everything he's heard so far, and he squeezes Rodney's arm as he grins. "You were building us a holodeck."

Rodney huffs in annoyance. "It wasn't a….okay, fine. I was designing a holodeck." Waving away his syntactic defeat, he snaps, "That's not the point. Virtual environment or not, if I'd put you in the stasis pod, it wouldn't have kept you from dying for long. Even with a standard time dilation factor of 200, people still age."

John rocks back, releasing Rodney as his brain whirls through the equations. "A ratio of 1 to 200. I've already spent over eighty hours in here. Fuck. That's almost two years."

"Only if your body was actually in a stasis pod." Rodney finishes in a rush, his body bracing as if ready for an attack. "That's what I've been trying…I uploaded you directly from the buffer to the virtual environment."

"Directly. So I'm dead." John doesn't understand why he suddenly feels the need to sit down if he no longer has a body that can do that. He gives in to virtual gravity, without trying to reach a chair first.

"No!" Rodney crouches next to John, his face earnest as he protests John's statement. "You're most definitely alive inside here, even if everyone else out there believes you died, well everyone except me and Ronon…and I'm not sure about him. In fact, your mind is actually controlling a lot of what's happening in here; otherwise you wouldn't be in very good shape right now."

John wants to shout, but he barely manages an appalled whisper. "Why didn't you just…what the fuck were you thinking, McKay?"

He's seen the same expression on Rodney's face before, the determination when he'd gone ahead and activated the nanites in Elizabeth after John had ordered him not to. "You're not the only one who can refuse to say goodbye as long as there's a chance."

An alarm sounds from Rodney's watch and he grimaces as he stands. "Listen, I have to leave now or Ronon's going to pull the plug on my pod and that won't be good. I promise I'll be back. The time dilation factor in here is actually set to six, not 200. That way I can come in without losing too much time on the outside and you won't end up waiting too long for me to show up again. In the meantime…"

The alarm sounds again. "Damn it! I meant to tell you more personally. You have to trust me. It'll get better. I've made some improvements I'll be uploading along with some files for you to read on your laptop. Please. Trust…." The alarm becomes too shrill for Rodney to speak over, he closes his eyes in defeat, and he's gone.

Still a feeling more than a little shaken by the recent revelations, John barely makes it up off the floor before he hears another voice calling his name, the deep tones familiar. "Sheppard?" Ronon appears at the doorway of the mess hall and then slowly advances across the room, his dark eyes studying John intently. "Is that really you?"

John shrugs and rubs the back of his neck as he admits, "I'm not sure what I can do to convince you of that, buddy. Sort of having a hard time understanding what's going on but, according to McKay, I'm still…me."

Ronon nods. "Yeah, well, at least you're not trying to bury me alive this time." Lunging forward, he enfolds John in a bear hug. "It's really good to see you again."

Laughing, John lets Ronon swing him around once before shoving himself free. "Hey, take it easy, Chewie. Guess it's a good thing I'm not as breakable as I used to be."

Ronon sobers almost instantly, frowning. "It was bad, John. You weren't going to make it. McKay put you back inside, talked me into not telling anyone, letting him try this instead. Guess I thought it was sort of like the shrine, a chance to say goodbye."

"Yeah, about that…." John looks away from Ronon, unsure of what to believe, what to say, trying to consider all his options before surrendering to impulse.

"Not that kind of goodbye, is it? All this…a fake Atlantis…you dead out there and alone in here…still not sure I did the right thing." Ronon reaches out and grabs John's shoulder, shakes him gently as he offers, "Brought some C-4 with me. I'll blow the place up for you if you want."

"I know you would and I appreciate that." With a pat to Ronon's hand, John disengages and walks toward the window to look at the ocean that doesn't really exist. He shrugs and admits, "I haven't had any time to think about it yet. McKay asked me to trust him, and I figure it can't hurt anyone, at least for a while, unless…." John turns back to gauge Ronon's reaction. "He's not spending all his time on this instead of taking care of Atlantis, right?"

"Says it's not a problem since he's not on a team anymore." Ronon shrugs. "Caldwell has different ideas on how to run things. Lot of stuff's changed, but I haven't heard any complaints about McKay. No more than usual, anyway."

Reassured by Ronon's unconcerned stance, John thinks for a moment, and then nods. "Okay. Let me read the stuff McKay says he's uploading, and I'll let you know next time if I want you to pull the plug." Another thought intrudes. "You will be coming back, right?"

"Won't let him inside here without me around," Ronon huffs impatiently, as if he thinks John is stupid for asking. "Not safe."

Recognizing he has no choice but to rely on his former teammates, John tamps down his frustration so he can attempt a smile. "Good. I'm counting on you. Take care of yourself and everyone else. I wish…." He can't finish the thought; the wound is too raw, the enormity of his loss suddenly sinking in.

"Me, too. It's not the same without you." Ronon's voice is rough with emotion as he grasps John's arm in a warrior's farewell. "Remember, all you have to do it tell me and it's over." He nods, closes his eyes, and he's gone.

When John wakes up, he's in his quarters.

Alone.

The last thing he remembers is Ronon's promise right before he disappeared.

John stares up at the ceiling above his bed and wonders whether thinking about killing himself is proof that he's still alive. He'd never been big on philosophy in the past, had managed living for years without worrying about self-determination, existentialism, or even religion beyond cultivating a tolerance for others' beliefs. He supposes he considers himself a pragmatist when it comes to dying, not suicidal, despite what Rodney's had to say on the subject in the past. It's just that all things come to an end and, if his death meant others would live, then all the better.

According to Rodney and Ronon, he'd gone out the way he'd prefer if he had a choice, trying to save someone else, quick, searing heat, tearing pressure, no breath left to scream relatively painless. He'd spent enough time in various infirmaries to know he wouldn't want to linger as a body without his mind, had also considered what it would be like to lose an arm or leg, his sight, his hearing, and whether he'd be able to live with whatever was left of John Sheppard.

It's just a flesh wound.

He remembers how much Rodney sputtered whenever John quoted the Black Knight, annoyed by John's easy acceptance of the 'injury of the day.' Black humor bubbles deep in John's chest as he realizes he'll never get to use that particular line again.

He has no flesh left to wound.

The mirror over the bathroom sink reveals no profound changes, despite the recently acquired knowledge that he's not really there. It's not until he swallows the water scooped from the faucet with his hand that John realizes what's different.

He'd woken up thirsty.

He bolts from the bathroom to search his desk frantically, curses when his radio escapes him to bounce across the floor. When it's finally settled in his ear, he taps into the team channel, the brief sting as he scrapes his jaw welcome proof that he's finally broken free of a nightmare. "Rodney? Teyla? Ronon?"

The lack of an answer doesn't knock back John's conviction. He switches to a command channel and tries again. "Security, this is Sheppard. Anyone on this channel?" A few steps outside his door, he taps into the open channel, broadcasting across Atlantis' empty hallways as he runs toward the gateroom. "This is Colonel Sheppard. Anyone reading me?"

Careening around a corner into the upper level of the gateroom, John's heart falls as he sees it's as barren of life as the last time he'd been there. He slumps back against a nearby wall, burying his face in his hands as he mutters, "Fuck. Now would be a really good time for Rodney to tell me to go to the hologram room because he's fixed whatever the hell this is."

"John?"

Jerking upright, John peers around the gateroom until he suddenly realizes the voice came from his radio. "Rodney? Where the fuck are you?"

Rodney sounds a little breathless as he answers, "Nice…radio protocols, Colonel. I'm…I'm on my way to…."

"Listen, I was just joking about the hologram room." John interrupts Rodney's stammer, unable to hold back the bubble of disbelieving laughter that still feels better than panic. "You're actually here, right?"

"Well, here…might need…to be defined a little…more clearly…before I can…."

John taps off his radio to eliminate the echo when Rodney rounds the last corner and enters the gateroom. He's out of breath and slows to a walk when he spots John standing by the railing. His smile is crooked and quite possibly the best thing John's ever seen in his life. John quickly closes the distance between them and pulls Rodney into the hug John regrets not grabbing before. He soaks in Rodney's warmth, the scent of a tired man overlaid with coffee, the strength of arms that hold John just as tightly.

He doesn't let go until Rodney squeaks a protest. "John?" After reluctantly stepping back, John ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck, avoids Rodney's eyes until he asks impatiently, "Did something else happen since we last talked? Did you read the files I left? What did Ronon say to you?"

John shakes his head in confusion, the brush of cloth across his neck a distraction after days of sensory distortion and deprivation. He'd thought the changes meant he was back from wherever he'd been, but an empty Atlantis and a Rodney who instantly grasps what's been going on seem to prove otherwise. "Like you don't already know what he said," John retorts sullenly, tired of not understanding.

"Not really. There's no way to monitor what's going on in here. You have to be in the environment, although…." Rodney drifts into thinking mode and John can't help smiling at the familiar sight, then he laughs when clicking fingers announce a potential breakthrough. "Maybe I could reverse the…no…that wouldn't work." Rodney's face falls, his idea stillborn.

Feeling oddly reluctant to push the matter, John reaches out to pat Rodney's shoulder, and then suggests, "What say we go check out the mess? I haven't looked, but maybe there's coffee. Do you have time?"

"Time? For coffee? Of course." The suggestion is an immediate success and Rodney leads the way out of the gateroom, filling John in how the food storage is set up in the environment and what's been happening in Atlantis.

"I guess I'm still having a hard time accepting all this. It just doesn't feel real." His appetite quickly waning, John pushes his half-eaten muffin toward Rodney, who accepts it as his due. Leaning back in his chair, John watches fondly for a moment before he realizes there have been a few slight changes in Rodney since they walked through that last gate together. He chalks the signs of fatigue and weight loss up to the strain of whatever has been going on and tries not to be angry with Ronon and Teyla for neglecting Rodney. John's the first to admit it's not always easy getting the man to stop long enough to eat and sleep when he's on the trail of something new.

Thinking about Rodney and his projects, in particular the virtual environment, nudges John to continue. "To answer your earlier question, I haven't read the files yet. You weren't gone all that long, you know. Maybe there's something in them that would help."

After washing the last bite of muffin down with his coffee, Rodney shakes his head in disagreement. "This all feels pretty real to me." He frowns as he says, "I'm not sure what I missed in the last upgrade if it doesn't. Can you describe what's wrong or missing?"

"You mean besides the rest of Atlantis and the universe?" John scrubs a hand across his face trying to keep his frustration under control. "I didn't mean feel, really. When I woke up this morning I thought it was all a dream because I could…feel. It was different, normal, and then it wasn't again." Suddenly aware of how long they'd been sitting in the mess, John asks, "Not that it isn't great having company, but how'd you get Ronon to let you stay so long this time?"

Rodney sidesteps the question with one of his own. "What did Ronon say to you when he came in?"

"Why is it so important?" John pushes back, his curiosity aroused.

Getting up from the table, Rodney wanders toward the window, looks out over the ocean restored to its proper colors. "What I found in my research of the database was that the Ancients built the outpost in yet another attempt at easy ascension. They'd decided that if they could create a perfect copy of a human consciousness, then they could apply variables in a virtual environment to find out exactly what's required to ascend. Part of the experiment worked, they managed to create the equipment to copy and upload successfully, but it appears some bureaucrat ordered them to abandon it. They aborted the next scheduled upload and left the system wiped clean, otherwise you might have had company from the start."

John frowns, still trying to absorb what Rodney's telling him, then shrugs, "I guess that could have been interesting, although meeting Ancients hasn't always worked out for us."

"Interesting. Right. At least I was able to use what they built without too much tweaking. I did add some code for the environment interfaces and activated some features the Ancients had believed were unnecessary for their tests." Rodney flattens his hands against the glass and leans in, as if to peer down the side of the tower, his voice tight and strained. "Ronon has his own…issues…with all this. He thinks its been long enough, that I need to move on, accept that shit happens and people die, that you died, even though you're sitting right there…still alive. Breathing, thinking, talking, eating, drinking…still…John."

"Long enough?" Rodney's choice of words waves a red flag in front of John's face, especially when coupled with the long list of events John's missed. "Exactly how long has it been? You said before it was a factor of six, not something like 200. I make it about 100 hours that I've been awake in here, so it should have been less than a month out there, but that can't be right."

Rodney's shoulders stiffen as he admits, "It's been almost ten months." He sighs and rests his head against the glass. "I was only going to get one chance to pull you out of the buffer, so I had to make sure it was going to work first and secure the power source and get permission to go offworld with just Ronon without anyone finding out why, then right after I uploaded you they pulled us back for the…."

John can't ignore the distress in Rodney's voice, so he joins him at the window, nudges him with a shoulder, teasing, "So what you're saying is you're Miracle McKay and I was mostly dead for nine months?"

He's rewarded with a hiccup of laughter. "God, that was terrible. I suppose the only thing worse would be to say 'it's only a flesh wound' and fuck could we stop right now because I was there, I saw…." Rodney shudders as he turns toward John, his face torn between laughter and horror.

"Sorry." John apologizes with a rueful grin and begins to turn away when he's stopped by Rodney's hand on his arm.

"It's okay. Really. I've…missed…that ridiculous sense of humor." Rodney smiles and nods his head in satisfaction. "That alone makes it all worth it." He sobers at another thought. "For me. But, for you…the experiment was aborted, which means I took any chance of ascension away from you. I didn't give you the choice."

John shakes his head at the thought of turning into some glowy ascended being. "Nah, I doubt it. I've died out there more than once - remember? Yeah, the docs brought me back, but if it was ever going to happen, I'd be floating around already." He remembers Ronon's visit and adds, "You didn't take away all my choices either. Ronon made me a promise."

"Oh God." Rodney's eyes are wide and his voice shakes as he asks, "You didn't tell him to blow the place up, did you?"

John frowns, convinced he's missing something yet again. "Not yet. I guess I was waiting to see what you came up with, thought you might have some crazy plan to get me back outside."

"There's no crazy plan, John. It's a one-way trip inside here." Rodney backs up a step, waving his hands in emphasis. "I told you before there's no way to restore your body. I thought about trying to reproduce Michael's experiments in cloning, but the implications of being able to …." Rodney shakes his head. "Placing that capability in the hands of the IOA or the Trust…. With a wave, Rodney indicates their surroundings and frowns. "I couldn't even take the chance they'd use this technology for the wrong reasons, so it's completely disconnected, standalone with no access to or from Atlantis' systems."

John jumps in when Rodney stops to take a breath. "Yeah, okay, good call on that."

The unexpected approval distracts Rodney for an instant. "Oh…um…thanks." He frowns and picks up his dangling thread. "As I was saying, yes, you can choose whether to live in here or go out in some half-assed blaze of glory courtesy of Ronon the Destroyer. No, there's no third option to go back out into the real world and be John Sheppard again. Personally, I vote for living as long as possible."

The final destruction of the faint hope he'd barely acknowledged is too much and John explodes, shouting, "Easy for you to say, McKay. You're not the one stuck in here with no way out!"

Rodney freezes for a moment and then crosses his arms and lifts his chin as he snaps back, "That's where you're wrong."

"What the hell did you do?" John grabs Rodney's shoulders and shakes him, his voice rasping between fury and fear. "Tell me you didn't somehow manage to upload yourself like you did me!"

"I didn't!" Rodney shouts back, leaning in to shove John backwards. "I'm not the suicidal one on the team!"

Taking a deep breath, John forces himself to calm down before asking more reasonably, "Then explain what you meant by saying I'm not the only one. You should probably hurry because Ronon has to be going nuts out there."

"No, he isn't. In fact, I expect they're both back in Atlantis by now." Rodney relaxes under John's hands and then pulls away to pace in front of the window. "At least, that's what I'm guessing based on my presence here. I must have decided to upload the copy I was making…me…after I left the pod, most likely due to something Ronon said, which I'm now guessing had to do with you possibly deciding to call it quits."

John suspects he already knows the answer, but he asks anyway. "You're telling me you're not Rodney?"

Suspending his agitated pacing, Rodney rolls his eyes before snapping, "I'm beginning to worry that there might have been some brain damage after all. What I said was that I'm an uploaded copy. Since I already explained it's identical then, for all intents and purposes, I am the same Dr. Rodney McKay that you've been annoying since you first sat where you didn't belong, although I can no longer claim to be the one and only."

John thinks for a moment, tries to collect all the bits and pieces into a coherent whole before exposing himself to faux-Rodney's scorn. Confident he's solved the puzzle, he announces, "You uploaded your copy so that I wouldn't tell Ronon to blow the place up the next time he comes in to visit, gambled that I couldn't do that to a copy of you."

"Well, yes. But I'm not just simply a copy." The irritation grating Rodney's voice melts away as he quietly explains, "The moment the process finished, we became two different versions of the same on different paths. He's stuck taking care of Atlantis, and will one day accept the Nobel Prizes we earned, while I'm…I'm the lucky one that gets to take the road less traveled."

All evidence of his former panic wiped away, Rodney's gaze is steady as he admits to John. "In hindsight, I'm not exactly confident that this part of the plan is going work out. I was under a pretty tight deadline out there. I guess it all depends on whether or not you believe I'm Rodney McKay, the same guy who's been your best friend for years, and that I deserve to keep on living as much as I believe you do."

John looks into eyes as blue as they've always been, at a tentative smile canted at an oh-so-familiar angle, and he can't detect any hint of deception. It's a simple choice, despite the many questions still unanswered. With a tilt of his head and a cockeyed grin, John shares his decision with Rodney. "I'm still not reading those damn files, so I guess you'd better start filling me in on how all this works."

"Yes, the jumpers should work now and you can fly anywhere around the planet, although I'll have to check the maximum altitude. I think it's five miles or so. No gate travel though." His hands waving excitedly, Rodney leads John back to the kitchen area to demonstrate some of what he's been explaining. "The environment follows normal physical rules and limits, for the most part. You can't just wave a hand or think happy thoughts and have something magically appear."

"Damn, there goes my DeLorean," John complains, faking a pout until Rodney rolls his eyes in disgust.

"Yes, yes, I somehow neglected including that particular toy when I stocked the place with everything I could think of in the upgrade." Rodney opens the cupboard holding coffees and teas, and then points to the replenished bag of Kona they'd pulled out earlier. "Voila. Instant restock. We have whatever we had or could get delivered to us in Atlantis; the basics as well as finished goods."

"Cool." John opens another cupboard and pulls out a few boxes to inspect the contents. He drops one on the counter and returns the others to the cupboard. He closes the door, opens it again and pulls out the new box. "Okay. Make that very cool." He repeats his actions, adding a third box to the growing stack. "Then if we have the materials and tools, we can build whatever we want?"

"In theory, yes. DeLorean, no." John hides a smile when Rodney gives into curiosity and peers over John's shoulder to ask, "What are you doing?"

John tips the top box so Rodney can see the contents. "They never have enough of these at the tables." He pulls a fourth box out and then picks up his loot with a grin. "Want to help?"

"Hell, yes. Let me get some knives and forks, too." Rodney scrubs his hands together in delight as he contemplates his latest challenge.

John laughs as he walks back out to the dining area. "And toothpicks!" he calls over his shoulder, grinning at the sound of drawers and cupboard doors slamming. Selecting a table by the window, he sets down the boxes, then opens one and spills the non-dairy creamers out in an untidy pile. A quick calculation and he nods in satisfaction. "This is going to be fun."

It takes more than two weeks for John to break himself of his newest bad habit and not grab his radio the instant he wakes up to make sure Rodney hasn't vanished overnight, although the worry hits him fresh each morning. That makes breakfast his favorite meal of the day, because that's when John can see he's not alone. It's also his preferred time to ask the questions he's thought of since the day before, because Rodney's always been less cranky when there's coffee around. This morning is no exception; John stares down at his glass of juice and wonders aloud, "We're not going to age and can't really get sick or hurt. Can we get drunk?"

Rodney thinks for a moment before answering, "The Ancients had their own ideas on what was important for interactions in the environment, and I'm the one who decided getting rid of eating and drinking was ridiculous. We do already know we can only eat and drink so much before we're full and, if we push it, we get indigestion."

John can sympathize when Rodney frowns at that memory. They'd spent an uncomfortable few hours waiting for their systems to process what they'd overeaten, and Rodney hadn't been the first one to push back from the table. "Same principle with alcohol, reach capacity and…you know, I'm not sure I want to attempt that experiment yet. We've avoided the whole 'what goes in must eventually come out' discussion quite nicely up to now."

"Then if we can't get hurt or sick, you should try some orange juice." John offers his glass with a teasing smile.

He receives a blue-steel glare in return. "Thanks, but I think I'd prefer Ronon's big bang over choking to death."

John finishes the juice himself and then retorts, "You know, it really is all in your head now."

They never talk about the people they'll never see again or speculate on what's been happening in the real world. Carefully feeling their way through the minefield of solitary co-existence, they don't spend all their time together, although building their first giant domino maze keeps them both occupied for over a week. However, tipping over the first block to watch the cascade loop around pillars and tumble down the stairs then sends them off to separate labs, to plot out their next attempts in a contest to see who could set the record for the longest unbroken run.

When they're not staging domino wars, John often works in the woodshop he discovered next to the botany labs, experimenting with unfamiliar tools and woods, determined to carve the perfect surfboard. Rodney, on the other hand, finally has the time he'd craved for his own style of surfing…through the Ancient database. John still likes to run while Rodney categorically refuses to waste his time exercising because his health's no longer at issue. They give each other space, although they abandon their own pursuits regularly to cook a meal together, play a game, or watch one of the thousands of videos Rodney had uploaded, slowly working their way through a library including the esoteric, the ordinary, and the absurd.

They never discuss the selection of porn available, although John runs a few tests of his own, and is satisfied with the results.

Although they make their own schedules, eat and sleep when their digital bodies calculate (E)ffort x (D)uration = hunger AND/OR thirst AND/OR fatigue, they manage to stay in sync for the most part. Sometimes, John chooses to pull Rodney out of his lab, Rodney grumbling about interruptions, John worrying about the lines of unnecessary strain in Rodney's face. Still, as they gradually settle into lives no longer governed by urgency or fear, they both agree a favorite spot to finish the day is their pier under the moons and stars.

Pleasantly fatigued after a day spent sealing and sanding down his latest creation, John hands Rodney a beer, then opens his own. "I'm thinking the mainland tomorrow. Board's ready to try. Come with me?"

Rodney huffs and shakes his head at the absurdity of John's question. "As if I'd let you go that far without me."

"Not like anything's going to happen to me, buddy." John nudges Rodney with his shoulder, savoring the brief warmth. "I'm in the safest place I could be, remember?"

"I…." Rodney stares down at the bottle in his hand, idly picks at the label, but doesn't continue.

A little puzzled by Rodney's odd behavior, John nudges him again. "You?"

Rodney leans back into John for an instant before pulling back with a sigh. "Here's the thing. Over the last few months, I have become aware that I have certain feelings…that there's something more…and I could be wrong, but I think that maybe…you..too?" He looks up at John, one finger pointing between the two of them.

Caught off-guard, John looks away for a moment and then shrugs, a flush heating his cheeks and ears. "Yeah, but I…um…always kind of figured you weren't…and I was cool with that."

"Oh! I was…am! Interested, that is." Rodney's cheeks darken in the moonlight as he stammers, and John suspects he's feeling just as warm. "Very. Even before, then I just…I didn't want to start anything in case…."

"Afraid it wouldn't work out and we'd be stuck hating each other or something?" John's not dismayed by Rodney's concern. It's reasonable. They have a lot of time ahead of them, and he's always preferred sweet with a bite of sour, not bitter.

Rodney shakes his slowly in disagreement. "No, actually we've always been surprisingly compatible, and I think we'd be great together. You see, that's the problem."

"Okay. You lost me." John sets his empty bottle to the side so he won't be tempted to toss it into the water in frustration. He rescues Rodney's just before the hands start flying in explanation.

"We're different…I mean we're here for different reasons. You, well, didn't have many options available, actually none since I stuck you in here without your permission instead of letting you bleed out." Reacting to John's flinch, Rodney winces. "Sorry." He continues haltingly, "I, on the other hand, chose to upload a copy of myself because I didn't think it was fair to leave you in here alone. Remember the key word is copy. A backup, if you will."

John reaches for the patience he finds much easier to summon lately. "And…."

"An environment upgrade resets you to waking up in your quarters, but it doesn't alter any accumulated memories. A consciousness backup outside the environment is just static data that can be overwritten as many times as necessary, it's only when it's uploaded into the environment that it's, for lack of a better term, alive." Rodney's hands struggle to express infinity as he explains, "You need to understand that a backup of a human consciousness isn't incremental, the interrelationships of thoughts and memories is so impossibly complex…."

John shifts impatiently under the lecture, then interrupts. "I'm not an expert, Rodney, but I know the difference between an incremental and full backup."

"Oh, right." Rodney nods and thinks for a moment, frowning. "So that means you understand what will happen if he decides to upload his latest backup with the next upgrade."

The import of Rodney's words hits John hard enough to make him lurch to his feet with a growled curse. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'd wake up in my quarters one morning. Alone. Then I'd walk around Atlantis until a new and improved McKay showed up, who wouldn't remember what we did the night before."

Rodney twists to watch John pace along the edge of the pier. "Or anything that's happened here," he confirms with a hitch in his voice. "I didn't want you to go through that pain. I thought that if I gave into what I wanted, it would have been selfish and unfair to you."

John stops and stares in disbelief at Rodney's reasoning. Anger takes over and he yells, "So the solution was never start because you were afraid how it might end. Damn it, Rodney. That's called life, the thing you gave up to convince me not to." He takes a step closer, then changes direction and backs away, his voice lower and close to breaking. "I could handle not interested just fine, but you thinking that it would hurt less if I lost you? That's just fucked up because it's going to fucking tear me apart either way."

Suddenly aware that he's revealed too much, John turns and starts to run, even though he knows that there's nowhere to hide.

A few hours spent wandering the upper levels leaves John craving a hot shower and sleep. That simple plan evaporates when he walks into his room and finds Rodney sitting on the bed. "The hell?"

Rodney jumps to his feet and starts babbling an apology. "I'm sorry, but…you…uh…you left before I could finish."

Massaging the bridge of his nose to settle the headache he should be suffering, John sighs. "Two minutes and you're out of here."

Rodney doesn't object, just launches into what he still had to say. "I've been doing a lot of thinking the past few days, about how long it's been out there, almost two years. Even knowing it could end any second, I'm not sorry I ended up here but, to be honest, I'm surprised I'm still here. I mean, the other me should have been back weeks ago to overwrite me if he was going to, and this conversation would have never happened. I figured it would be the new version's problem."

"Now I'm a fucking problem?" Furious, John slams his fist into the wall next to him, wishing for more than the dull throb of pain that washes across his knuckles. "You know what? Time's up. Don't worry, tonight never happened, McKay. I'll see you at breakfast." John points at the open door and makes sure he's well out of Rodney's way.

"No! Wait! That came out wrong. What I was trying to say is I was wrong because I know how much it would hurt me to lose you, and I realized that I was making the same mistake and not letting you choose. That's why I…on the pier…." Rodney crosses the room to stand in front of John, his blue eyes wide and pleading. "Please believe me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

With a sigh, John gives in. "Okay." He closes his eyes and feels the warmth of Rodney's body reach across the few inches separating them and then he blindly reaches for more. Rodney stumbles into John's arms and holds tight and John whispers into the curve of his neck, "We're good."

Rodney's smile across the table at breakfast is the softest John's seen since they began their life inside. The missing lines of strain around his eyes support their decision to take it slow, even though John wants to grab what he can, uncertain how much time they have left and regretting what they've squandered.

"When were you thinking of leaving?" asks Rodney, reminding John of the trip he'd planned.

John shrugs, unsure how long it will take to gather what he wants to take, especially since he's adding a surprise picnic lunch to the schedule. "Why don't I call you when the jumper's loaded?"

"Sounds good." Rodney stands and starts for his lab, but then surprises John by turning back. He walks around the table to look down at John with a shy curve at the corner of his mouth. It becomes a real smile when John reaches up to tug on Rodney's shirt, urging him down for a kiss, sweet and light, just a taste.

"Sheppard?"

The unexpected voice from the doorway of the mess jolts them apart, and John sends the chair flying backward when he surges to his feet. When John recognizes the speaker, he automatically steps in front of Rodney, realizing as he does that there's no way to protect him. He slowly walks toward the door, one hand cautiously extended toward the other man. "You can't do it. He's mine now," he insists, praying it's not too late.

The subtly different McKay frowns at John and asks, "I think I'm missing something here. Do what? And what do you mean, 'he's yours'? Although, come to think of it, the kiss did sort of give that one away."

"He's afraid you're going to overwrite me when you leave," Rodney explains, advancing to stand at John's side. After studying his twin for a moment, he smiles and shakes his head. "But you never planned to do that, right?"

"Of course not!" McKay exclaims, crossing his arms in a huff. "I'm no cold-blooded murderer!"

"That's what I've been hoping you figured out, but in my defense, we hadn't thought that far ahead when we uploaded the copy." Listening to the two, John's torn between relief and bafflement when Rodney wiggles the fingers of his left hand and asks, "Who is she? Did I know her?"

McKay answers "Jennifer" at the same time John blurts out "Her?" and Rodney says, "Of course, I should have known. Congratulations."

"Thanks. She's…." John looks closer, the changes more apparent as the 'real' McKay relaxes a little, although he still appears edgy and worn. There's been a slight change to the uniform, he's a little more solid, has a little less hair, and there's the ring. McKay shifts uneasily under John's inspection and then he straightens, resolute. "Listen, I know it's been a long time, but we were stuck on Earth for a while, and you probably want to know what's been happening, but I don't think that's a good idea. Ronon agrees. It's not your life anymore and you need to let it go. You're…retired. I just wanted to let you know everyone's fine, so you wouldn't worry, and to say goodbye for the last time."

"Now, wait just a minute…" John stiffens and automatically starts to protest the lack of information, but he feels a nudge from Rodney and suddenly realizes he doesn't want to be an armchair quarterback, second-guessing every decision made since…. "We retired," he repeats slowly, letting the words settle into place.

"Right then." McKay briskly rubs his hands together and announces, "I'll install the upgrades after Ronon's visit and that'll be it. Jennifer and I, we…uh…are going back to Earth. Ronon's the only other person that knows you're here, and he's not going to be stopping by. The power source and shielding will last for several millennia at a minimum, probably a lot longer, and I made sure it registers on scanners as ambient radiation so no one should bother to investigate. Nothing here but desert, after all. Oh, and the planet's address will be removed from the Atlantis' database when I get back."

Rocking on his heels for a few moments, McKay glances around the mess nervously before extending his hand. "So, I guess this is it."

John steps close enough to take McKay's hand, feeling Rodney close at his side. "Thanks for everything and good luck." For a moment, John's tempted to try for a hug, but McKay pulls his hand free with a nervous smile to offer it to Rodney next.

They shake hands silently, and then break apart with almost identical nods at each other. McKay steps back and raises a finger, adding, "I think you'll enjoy what I'm adding, but I'll let you figure out what by yourselves." He lowers his hand, a line of concern creasing his forehead. "I...I also buried the instructions for a…a kill switch in the database, just in case you two…."

"We'll be fine." John adds to the distance between them, trying to make it easier for McKay to leave. "Take care of yourself, buddy."

McKay opens his mouth and then shuts it again without saying a word. With a nod, he closes his eyes and he's gone.

"Jennifer Keller," Rodney murmurs next to John, a tinge of wonder in his tone.

John remembers what hologram McKay had revealed and feels a rush of remorse at what Rodney's missed. "I'm sorry…."

"About what?" Rodney steps in front of John and studies his face for a moment, and then he bursts out, "You're being ridiculous! I knew exactly what I was doing when I made the copy, although I hadn't exactly planned on uploading that one." His voice gentles as he presses a palm over John's heart. "It was the right choice, though. I'd already spent nine months, thirteen days, and seven hours missing you. Sometimes, the only thing that kept me going was knowing I was going to see you again." He leans in, and John meets him halfway to finish the interrupted kiss.

"So McKay was right."

They jump apart again and Rodney yells at Ronon, "You did that on purpose!" He turns to John and grumbles, "I can't wait for people to stop popping in and out of here without warning."

Ronon ignores the complaint and grabs them both into a three-way hug. It's not a long one, just a clench and release, but John's glad Ronon was able to manage it. The changes in Ronon are more apparent; hair short, a new scar slashed across his face, he's leaner but looks happier. Ronon lets John look him over for a moment and then asks, "You okay in here?"

John settles for the easy answer, slipping his hand into Rodney's before saying, "We're fine."

"Good to hear." Ronon flashes a smile, and then quickly sobers. "I'm really not good at this, so I'm going to just say goodbye and leave."

With a nod of understanding, John keeps it short. "Thanks for everything, buddy."

Rodney chimes in. "Goes for me too, big guy."

Ronon smiles at both of them and says, "Goodbye," closes his eyes, and then he's gone.

When John wakes up, he's in his quarters.

Alone.

The last thing he remembers is Ronon's smile right before he disappeared.

Telling himself that McKay wouldn't have lied about the upgrade doesn't stop John from lurching out of bed and grabbing his radio to ask, "Rodney, are you there?"

He has to wait a few seconds, but then relief washes over him when he hears an annoyed, "Where else would I be at this hour of the morning? I thought we got past this weeks ago."

Reluctant to confess to his daily battle, John tries to think of a reason for calling and fails. "I…."

"I should probably be offended that you didn't trust him, but I'm being magnanimous this morning and I'll let you make me blueberry pancakes to apologize."

"Okay." John smiles to himself, thinking he's getting off easy, and then he adds, "I'll meet you there in ten. And Rodney?"

John can just make out a patient sigh before Rodney answers. "What now?"

"I'm really glad you answered your radio this morning," he confesses, thankful he has someone who understands what that means.

Rodney's voice is soft when he admits. "Me, too."

Rodney pauses during his pancake demolition to ask, "We still on for the mainland today?"

It was a perfect opening for John. "Actually, I have a better idea. I want to do some exploring on the next level today, and then a moonlight picnic and maybe watching the submarine races."

"Submarine races?" Rodney almost choked on his pancake. "Oh my God, have you been spending all your time watching episodes of Gidget and listening to the Beach Boys?"

"Hey, she was a hot chick on a surfboard, and it just so happens that I like that music." John tips his head and grins across the table at Rodney, waits for the volley.

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Why am I not surprised? At least you're willing to listen to someone other than the scary man on the poster over your bed."

"My bed. Right." John flushes and dips his head to peer at Rodney through his eyelashes as he mumbles, "That's kind of why I wanted you to look through the residential suites with me."

"You finally decided to move into something bigger? It's about time you graduated to a big boy's bed." When John doesn't say anything, Rodney frowns at him, puzzled. A few seconds later, he gets it, and his eyes widen in surprise. "Oh. Wow. Really?"

John stands up, leans across the table to taste maple-flavored Rodney, and knows he's going to get exactly what he's wanted.

"This one has a balcony that should overlook our pier…uh, John? You need to come out here and see this."

"Holy shit! Is that a Ferris wheel?"

"Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that's a DeLorean parked next to it?"

When John wakes up, he's in their quarters.

He's sweaty and sticky and thirsty and, most importantly, not alone.

The last thing he remembers is kissing Rodney goodnight, the same way he'll wake Rodney up.

Life is good.