Tzzzzzzzzzzz.Tzzzzzzzzzzz.Tzzzzzzzzzzzz.

The room buzzed with chatter. Mindless, relentless, arguing. Geeks had their own brand of verbal sparring, trading insults and cutting each other off worse than children.

John was already in an irritable mood after being poked, prodded, scanned, and 'topped off' during his post mission checkup turned sixty minute ordeal. The images of his brain only confirmed his fear of running out of time as did Carson's prattling of elevated and irregular physiological levels.

He dragged his eyes across those bickering away about the report on his experiment. A thirty page analysis with charts, tables, graphs, and every other type of tool wasn't enough evidence for the Atlantis brain trust to agree upon.

"It could be that he simply made the Wraith go to sleep."

"By lowering its metabolism."

"No, by manually slowing down organ function. Doesn't mean that a gene or chemical response caused it."

"Maybe it did. According to the report he isolated the dormant gene that--"

"Excuse me? And how exactly do we know that for sure?"

John snapped his lids shut, rubbing at the tension in his temples again. He went over elements in the periodic tablet backwards by atomic number.

"I think you are being so argumentative because you don't know how to read the analysis."

"Aye, there was definitely an increase in an unknown chemical compound in the Wraith's blood. This could be the protein released after entering a state of hibernation."

"I have to agree with Lockston. This isn't conclusive proof. We need more tests... we... need--

"Enough!" John yelled.

"Colonel." Elizabeth rose from her seat. "We agreed to discuss this once you got back--"

"I've wasted three thousand, seven hundred and eighty seconds for Carson to confirm I'm not doin' too hot. Then I got dragged to a second lunch. Only to sit here for the last five thousand five hundred and twenty seconds listening to people argue about things they can't possibly comprehend." He took a deep breath to calm a spinning sensation. "It worked. All of you can debate things, but I'm going to go figure out the rest."

He was out the door and into the hall, Elizabeth hot on his trail. "John... John, wait. Colonel Sheppard!"

Responding to being addressed that way was habit, and he spun around to face her. Elizabeth took five long strides and faced him with the same tenaciousness that he felt. "I have no idea what's going on inside of you. I can't possibly know. I do know you can run laps around the scientists in there, but we need perspective. We need discussion and evaluations."

"I can't just sit there," he admitted, rubbing viciously at his head.

"You could contribute to the discussion. I'm sure it takes great patience to talk at their level."

John scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's not that, Elizabeth. I can't... I... I can't be idle. It's too much. Things get…." He licked his lips, thinking how to phrase things. "It's shaking up a soda bottle and opening it up and trying to prevent it from exploding. I'm all that fizz, thousands of bubbles under pressure, going in multiple directions and trying to escape any way possible."

The scary thing was this was closer to the truth than he wanted to let on. There had been a growing pressure in his head for a while now.

Elizabeth was going to touch his left arm; she laid her hand there, and he did his best to give her one of his confident smiles. "Let me work on things my own way."

"I'm not sure if that's wise," she said honestly.

"I won't be alone. I'm going to drag McKay away from that machine. Don't worry."

He didn't miss her eye roll.

"Did you not see me under a console? I was knee deep in the crystal and circuit guts of a machine that at any moment could transform me into a ball of energy," McKay snapped, pacing his lab after scattering his minions.

"You'll have time later to do that," John explained, setting up two laptops.

Rodney bored a hole through him with his glare. His hair was frazzled, the dark smudges under his eyes reminiscent of the grease worn by weekend warriors on the football field. "Don't joke about this."

"I'm not being funny. You can screw with that thing later."

"It's quite apparent I'm the only rational person left in this city. Obviously you've used that oversized superego of yours to make them do your bidding." McKay huffed, releasing all his hot air and dropping down in the seat. "What am I staring at?"

"I've mapped out the probable flight patterns of all the known hives in this galaxy."

Rodney's jaw dropped at the trajectory map on the laptop, each hive a green dot scattered among millions of miles. "How exactly did you calculate this?'

"I fixed your search engine of the Ancient database and brought up every recorded instance of Hive activity going back ten thousand years. Including our own tracking of the last three," he said, walking back and forth, tapping the table as he paced.

"You did what?" Rodney rose from the stool. "First off, you fixed the search engine? The one that almost brought the city to its knees?" He snapped his fingers. "Of course you did; you slapped a Linux repair to it or something and 'poof'."

"If you look at the screen, you can see that each Hive stays within a certain distance of the other, even light years apart. We know there are rival groups and that many don't communicate with the other, but I think there's a behavioral pattern ingrained in them to stay within a certain range of one another."

McKay was shaking his head, flipping screens and enlarging the map to the overheard display. "I wouldn't call this 'within' range of one another. And I hate to point out to you but the distance between them all radically varies. And... and who cares?"

Focus. Focus. One thing at a time. An ice pick was digging a hole in John's left eye. "Because according to the database, the Ancients believed that the Queen has the ability to send out a type of siren distress call in rare emergencies."

"Since when? We've never seen a Hive come to another's aid," McKay stared at him. "Um..." He swallowed. "Sheppard?"

It took a second to realize he was staring off into space, his legs moving on automatic. He was rubbing at the side of his head again, causing the hair there to stick out in even more directions. "It's a theory the Ancients had. But I think it's true."

"Based on a four minute stroll down one Wraith's memory lane?"

"I was connected to a dormant instinct on a subconscious level."

"Riiiight."

"I'd say below that even. I mean, evolutionary theory states we hold pieces of behavior carried over for millions of years. Biological needs that no longer have a function like the appendix."

Rodney flapped his hands. "Okay, whatever. So, you found Hive ships that may or may not fly around close enough for a Wraith psychic emergency call. What part of your harebrained idea does this pertain to?"

"Because I need to connect to a Queen and trigger the gene that'll send her Hive into hibernation."

"Are you off your freaking rocker? Do you know how highly preposterous and unlikely... and... and... jeesh. That's insane! Even for you!"

John wiped away the dribble on his chin; McKay was red-faced and looked heat-stroked. "I can't put every Wraith drone to sleep single-handedly. It would take too long even if I wasn't going to--" He couldn't say it. Yeah, he was really prepared for all of this.

Rodney backed down, body shaking.

"The Queen controls the Hive. We already talked about this." John leaned on the console for support.

McKay made a circuit around his lab, and John took a precious second to regroup. His head was buzzing, and his fingertips tingled, forcing him to remove his hand from the console. "If I can control a Queen then I might be able to send the signal out as a massive shockwave, affecting other Queens and spreading it like a network."

"No, that'll never work. There are way too many variables."

It had to.

"Think of it as a carrier signal. I might be able to force it through. Radar towers pick up stray transmissions all the time. Unless you know to block them then theoretically it should work. I'll broadcast simultaneously."

Now it was McKay's turn to use something for support; hours of nonstop analysis of the machine and putting up with John's antics were taking a toll.

"Maybe you need a break," John proposed.

"Please. If anyone needs to take it easy it's you. Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?" He began digging through his pant's pockets. "Here." Rodney handed him a rumpled and squished oatmeal bar.

John took it, the snack mushing in his grip. "Already nice and warm."

Rodney's sheepish expression eroded. "You connected to a lowly worker bee. What makes you think you can handle a Queen?"

"Teyla can. She'll help prepare me. I'm not saying I have her gift or her gene, but my mind has evolved generations ahead of her talents. I can do it. I know I can." He ran out of steam for arguing and took a bite out of the power bar.

"Sheppard... John. It's..." Rodney glanced at the map and all the patterns and telemetries. He shook his head. "I think this is even beyond your accelerated abilities. I just don't think even this close to ascension, you'd be powerful enough to pull this off. Even attempting to will probably sizzle your brain and kill--"

Silence hung in the air between them, inviting every form of external and internal stimuli to have a go at him. John clawed at the console, realizing why all those hippie people meditated so much.

"I'm getting Carson."

John grabbed McKay's shirtsleeve. "No! Please... I just need to work on something."

"And you say I'm too high strung to relax."

He heard Rodney, but he was too engulfed calculating the odds for success of his plan. It only took up a minuscule amount of his attention.

"Have you ever thought of slowing down your own mind? Blood pressure, pulse. All that? Being a walking, talking advertisement for Yoga and the Pure Moods soundtrack isn't healthy."

John actually chuckled. "Says the human panic attack."

"I'm sure Carson could give you something."

"No sedatives." He'd have plenty of time to sleep soon. "Doesn't matter. I need to double check all my calculations."

"Why?"

"Because I want to make sure they're accurate and--"

"No. I mean... why are you really doing this? Why not help me tear apart the thing that did this to you? Together we might find a way to reverse it."

"Can you restart my brain, Rodney?"

McKay wanted to say something snarky because it would hide the truth. Once something was sent in motion there wasn't a way to change the course.

Rodney began revving up for another full-blown theory-buster. His eyes always did that inward thinking thing. "If you can control genes, why not your own? You're evolutionarily advanced; that was triggered by something."

"It's not a genetic trait to ascend. My brain chemistry was altered and accelerated. I've tried to control it, but it's… it's just one of those things."

His friend was like a dog with a bone, not willing to give it up. "You're not trying hard enough. Super-genius my ass. If you can't even heal yourself, what's the point of having the power to?"

John shrugged. "I don't think the Ancients ever thought of a return policy."

"But..."

"I've finished my calculations. If I can locate a Hive and control the Queen, I should be able to relay the signal to most of the other ships. Oh, and I've figured out the next Mersenne Prime," John brought up the answer on the view screen. "You can have the reward money. Maybe give it to your sister."

"Don't say that. You're not going to..."

With nothing running in the background of John's mind, it was hard to concentrate with a living, breathing city all around him. It was like a dozen radio stations and cable channels blaring at once with Rodney's voice just a distant hum, swallowed up by all the sound.

"Sheppard?...Colonel!"

"I know why protons are unstable. I mean in order for the grand unified theory of the universe to work," John started babbling until he felt two hands shaking his shoulders. He looked into two bloodshot eyes. "What?"

"For once, I don't care about learning about the answers to the universe. You need to pay attention," McKay snapped.

Answers to the universe. Oh, that opened it all up. John pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes. "I don't believe that the cosmological constant is zero. The universe isn't expanding in a symmetrical way. In fact, it's erratic, sometimes growing and expanding..."

"Are you listening to yourself? What about Batman and Ironman? Or about that new babe that arrived last week? Lt Ellsmere. Elston?"

"Ellsworth. And she really is hot," John grinned. Then his body short-circuited, fires igniting and tracing the pathways of his nervous system.

"Sheppard!"

John grabbed the console for dear life, riding out a full fledged electric shock to the muscles and pain receptors of his body. His vision went stark white—then it was over as quickly as it had begun.

He gasped. Rodney kept him from falling to the floor. Nothing obeyed his commands; his arms and legs were jelly.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no!"

"S'okay," John slurred. Whatever had snapped, tripped, or misfired left him like spun taffy. "Giimme... give me a second."

"I've got a cot right over here," McKay huffed while dragging him towards something soft.

The room stopped doing a tilt-a-whirl, and John sagged down on the flimsy bed. "Thanks. Not sure... what that was."

"Black hole in your brain. The flux capacitor eating the rest of your mind. The answer to what forms reality taking up a vacancy inside your skull."

John stared up at the ceiling, holding on to that snippy tone. He was actually going to miss it.

"I'll radio Carson; my comm got knocked away. Don't be talking to computers or cities for the two seconds it'll take to grab it."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

Rodney was searching the floor, groaning about his back. John didn't want to spend more time in the infirmary. Not with it running out. "Don't call."

"Got it. And your eyes just rolled into the back of you head. Do I need to remind you?" McKay stood, one hand bracing his hip, finger tapping. "What? It's not working... what the... you're doing this!"

"Just want to lie here for a while."

A shadow crossed over John, and even the silhouette looked grumpy. "You really should... I mean. Carson might be able to do something."

"He can't," John sighed. This wasn't working. His body was ready; his brain wasn't. "I just want a quick ten minute nap. Then I can get back to things."

Rodney's footsteps drifted away, and John was left alone again. He was so tired. It was amazing how quickly things spiraled out of control. McKay was back, bumbling around, dimming the lights in the lab.

Why didn't he think of that?

"This should help," Rodney's spoke quietly.

John furrowed his brow when the room filled with the soft sounds of music. Piano, keyboards, synthesizer. Harp?

"You really do have a Pure Moods soundtrack?" he asked in the darkness.

"It's a special CD Jeannie got me. The music was composed using mathematics and was constructed to synch with the neuronal patterns in higher brain function. I think there's enough going on within the composition to keep your brain occupied just enough to allow you to relax."

McKay was right. The notes, the rhythm, the symmetry. It was pure geometry.

Yet, it was soothing, and John felt his eyelids drift close, exhaustion pulling him down into a state in between. He wouldn't truly fall asleep, but he wouldn't be awake either, and he'd take what he could get.

He managed a 'Thanks, Rodney,' before drifting away.

Carson didn't say much during the examination; small talk was not one of John's strengths, and the whole dying thing made things all kinds of complicated. He'd slept/rested his brain for three hours on McKay's cot, but that had been the other day. Colonel Caldwell was due to arrive later on, and his messages had been eager and cautiously weary about the project.

Elizabeth's footsteps gave her away, and John moved his arm to uncover his eyes. No one knocked anymore when they entered his quarters. There wasn't any need to; he knew everyone who came to his door before they arrived.

"Does the quiet help?"

"Not really. Silence is just as problematic as the loudness of the infirmary. But my bed's more comfortable than an examination table." He allowed his lips to curve. "Don't think Carson likes making house calls."

"He doesn't like lugging all the equipment around."

"His stuff has wheels. It's not that big," he joked. "And you can tell him I've been lying down like a good boy."

"You should. I saw the latest tests, John." Elizabeth sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to respond.

John sat up, wishing he had taken a shower to wash and shave. His body ached to the very marrow of his bones. "Carson ran another glucose drip." He held out bruised arm, a band-aid still covering the hole. "He also gave me some other stuff to try to equalize my blood chemistry."

They both knew the truth. Elizabeth had been briefed about his deterioration. He was anemic, suffered from vitamin deficiencies and dangerous rises in his insulin levels, and he was showing signs of organ damage in his liver and kidneys.

And that only explained half the reason why he felt like crap. The other pains were still a mystery, but John guessed it was the result of his brain overloading and trying to compensate in other ways.

"I know why you're here," he blurted, to distract himself.

Elizabeth laughed. "I suppose you would."

McKay's music was playing softly in the background from his computer. After the tiny bit of success from earlier, his friend went on a downloading spree, locating all the projects ever put out by the company.

"It takes time and energy to ascend, Elizabeth. I can't divert my focus. The rules to ascension say it's a total requirement kind of deal."

She leaned closer, her shampoo and soap still fresh on her skin. "Ascension can save you."

"There are too many rules. You know how I've gotten used to being in charge of a lot of stuff," he tried for light.

"You have one of the strongest ATA genes, John. You're closer to the Ancients than any of us. If anyone can conquer ascension, it's you and--"

"It's not living," John cut her off sharply. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "I've always been more practical than spiritual. You know that."

"This is practical, John. It's a way to beat this."

"Beat it how?" He looked at her, trying to make her understand. "It's death... whatever version you subscribe to. It's a concept. A reality maybe and not one I'm really interested in. Astral planes and energy clouds aren't my thing."

"You don't know that. Why risk giving up on a chance to live in a way you've never experienced? May be even more fulfilling? That's one of the reasons why you came here, right? Curiosity. The unknown. You've never been afraid of that before."

"I'm not afraid. It's about priorities. I have only so much time and juice left. And I'm choosing what I want to do with it," he defended.

John pushed aside the covers and stood up. He'd obeyed Carson and stayed in bed, even if it was just an hour.

Elizabeth got to her feet too, not backing down. It was one of the things he'd always admired in her except when that sheer determination was aimed at him. "So, this is your flying a cloaked jumper into a hive ship with a nuke again?"

That stung, and he could tell Elizabeth regretted the words but not the analogy. "Maybe it is another suicide mission. But I chose it. And if my death means it could save lives…. hell, save one life? Then I'll take it. Death has no value. Please don't question my decision to make mine have some."

Elizabeth's face softened, his words getting through. Her bluster vanished and what remained was the worry and grief for a friend.

John felt part of himself sag with the fight, but he didn't want to leave things like this. "Look, I know what you're trying to do and I... I... you know... appreciate it," he said softly.

She grinned. "I guess superpowers can't improve everything."

He chuckled, knowing his interpersonal skills still sucked.

"Colonel Caldwell will be here soon. I have a briefing to prep for." Elizabeth gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Maybe we can have one of your meals in my office later today."

"Maybe."

She started for the door when he stopped her, a devilish smile creeping at his lips. He was glad he'd completed what he'd wanted to do while they talked. "By the way, there's a long email waiting for you."

"Yeah? Should I be worried about what's in it?"

"No. I sent you the Voynich Manuscript. Um...translated."

"John," she said astonished. "That's considered the most unreadable book in the world."

"I know."

She stood there, gawking. "It's not written in any known language, and the illustrations make no sense. People have been trying to decipher it since 1912. I thought it might even be made up."

John's grin grew. "It's not. It was only two hundred and fifty pages. Didn't take long... And you'll be surprised what it is about," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

John knew Colonel Caldwell never held high hopes so he would never be disappointed or caught off guard. The man was a risk taker, but his actions were always below the radar. He sat there listening with one ear excited with anticipation while the other filtered out problems. His face stayed impassive, asking questions, clarifying facts.

This time John used a simple set of diagrams, explaining each step of his plan. Even a novice understood how radar and radio signals worked. He used that to demonstrate how manipulating a Wraith Queen in her own Hive and transmitting her command to others could force the rest of the Hives into sleep mode.

"And these Queens? Do they go to sleep, too?" Caldwell asked.

"Yes. The signal carries the command to turn on the gene in the Hive, and in the process, it activates in her own mind," he explained.

"How do you know? You were successful with one male drone. We have no idea how long they'll sleep," Caldwell pointed out.

"The Wraith hibernate until they are awakened. We've seen them in states of forced sleep before within Hives to conserve how many are awake," Teyla addressed him.

"Again, you tried this on a drone. What if the Queen doesn't go into hibernation afterwards and wakes the Hive back up?" Caldwell questioned.

"I don't think that would happen. I'll stay connected after she sends out the trigger and will force the same in her if I have to," John conceded.

"That's a lot of ifs, Colonel." Caldwell let out a deep breath. "Do you have a follow-through plan? I'll be the first to say that if most Hive ships are dormant, even for a little while, it will be a big help. But we only have the Daedalus; the Apollo is still being test flown."

"What about the Odyssey?" McKay inquired.

"We can't leave Earth undefended," Caldwell explained. He looked to John. "If this works, it'll take three weeks to get another ship to help."

"Isn't three weeks long enough to destroy a bunch of floating ghost ships?" Ronon asked.

It felt good to see his team all here, backing him up. John knew most of them wanted the Wraith dead, but his death weighed heavy on their minds.

"Sixty something Hives across an entire galaxy is quite the feat."

"Fifty-one. Minus the ones we destroyed and a couple newly built," John corrected. It was habit, and Caldwell was giving him one of his 'I don't like being talked down to' expressions. He added a hasty, "Sir," to alleviate the tension.

"Colonel Sheppard, I appreciate what you're trying to do. It's a remarkable plan, but there are too many things that could go wrong," Caldwell said.

But I want it to work, he heard in Caldwell's head.

"If it doesn't, we can jump into hyperspace. I've located the perfect target, one of the Hives that's been terrorizing a nearby solar system. All your questions will be answered. If it works... then we've got a way to knock out their military for a while. If the carrier signal doesn't affect any of the other enemy ships... then it's one less Hive to worry about," John declared.

They talked amongst themselves which was annoying. If he had an audience to speak to, he could narrow all concentration into a single tunnel. When people stopped interacting with him, the rest of the world vied for his attention.

The constant loop of MP3s in his quarters had influenced a recent obsession with music theory. He started tapping his fingers in a complex rhythm, his mind composing keys and tones to go along with the beat.

He jerked at the touch to his shoulder. "We've been trying to get your attention," Elizabeth explained.

His cheeks burned from being caught again off in another void. "Sorry."

"You've convinced me to give this a try. I want to contact Stargate Command and brief them about our plans," Caldwell announced.

"Thank you, sir," John said.

"It should be me thanking you, Colonel. This is one hell of a mission, and I understand you're undergoing a great sacrifice to see it through."

John had never seen the respect in Caldwell's eyes directed at him in such a way before. "Just doing my job."

The other colonel didn't stand on speeches, simply nodding. The room emptied out at a trickle, his team all stalling but at a loss at what to say. The taste was bitter almond. He grimaced, reaching for a hard candy from his pocket and dropping it in his mouth.

Teyla lingered until everyone else filed out. "Are you ready to discuss what you're about to undertake?" Her voice betrayed the boiling emotions underneath.

"I've got to stop by the infirmary for some vitamin shot concoction," John said, his fingers tapping the inside of his palm.

She eyed his foot bouncing in a staccato cadence against the floor, and he peered down, embarrassed. He'd gone from largo to prestissimo while his head filled in the pitch.

"You are nervous," she said.

"Not exactly," he replied, eyes dancing around the room, the dimensions creating and supplying the next algorithm of musical notes.

Teyla studied his pale, drawn face that a shower did little to improve. His skin burned hot even though he wasn't running a fever.

"I'll go with you to see Dr. Beckett. Maybe you could tell me more about how a Ferris wheel works," she offered.

She slipped an arm around his, guiding him out. His mind switched from music to the physics of wheel rotations. Headaches had taken roost hours ago, and he sighed out loud, the constant tonal modulation in his ears finally quieting.

Teyla was a godsend.

"Your brain has reached eighty percent output."

"You've lost another five pounds."

"You have a heart arrhythmia from muscle deterioration."

"There are signs of edema."

John leaned against the railing, using controlled breaths to steady himself. The wind blew across his face, salty and cool. The heat from under his flesh had peeked through his pores into an actual low-grade fever.

"John."

"Hey, Teyla," he said softly. The Athosian had never left him during his examination. "You don't have to stay."

"I want to," she said, standing next to him. "It is a beautiful night."

"Yeah, calm wind, low ionization, great visibility... Just show me that horizon."

"Captain Jack was quite a pirate," she commented.

"That he was."

"He commanded the sea and you the air." Teyla gazed wistfully. "You are both driven by freedom and how you control it."

She had a point; he stared across the lapping waves, the sky endless. "I keep thinking."

Teyla smirked. "About what?"

"About how we live only once. I have these powers yet..." He trailed off, thinking what the hell. "You trust me?"

"Always," Teyla said immediately.

John moved to stand behind her. "May I?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Quirking an eyebrow but curious, she nodded. He held her firmly but not too much, his head over her left shoulder. "Here we go."

They rose off the ground, Teyla gripping his forearms, breath catching as they lifted.

"Don't worry, just relax," he said.

The ascent was slow as they went up, curving at an angle and circled one of the empty spires.

Atlantis sparkled, millions of lights singing out, flashing to awe and inspire. The deep blue ocean accented the majesty of the floating wonder. They moved above both city and sea, pure air filling their lungs, feet dangling hundreds of feet high.

This was freedom, and John glowed in the awesomeness of flight and the joy from Teyla. She didn't speak; there was no need to. Her heart fluttered in her chest, the wonder leaching through her skin into his.

For the minutes they glided towards the tip of the city, he wasn't Colonel Sheppard.

He was simply alive. Breathing, moving, feeling.

Teyla's squeezed his arms, resting the side of her face against his neck. "John," she whispered. "This is..."

"I know," he breathed, taking them to a platform and landing. "From up here, the view is--"

"Amazing."

He kept them from toppling over, the winds rocking them back and forth at the higher altitude. The two of them stared slack jawed and wide-eyed. "We really are very small," he spoke softly.

"Mere points among giants," Teyla added.

He chuckled, the vibration shared between them. "Yeah, that too."

This was worth the sacrifice, John thought.

"We should get back," he said, after reveling in the moment. He couldn't risk experiencing a spasm of pain and allowing either of them to fall.

He took his time, coasting back down, allowing the air to whip at his hair. They landed a few feet from 'take off', both of them exhaling heavily.

John dropped his hands, and Teyla spun around, grabbing his elbow. "Please do not go through with your plan."

Her urgency ripped through his tranquil state. "Teyla."

"It is not worth it."

"Listen to yourself."

"I do not care. There is no need to gamble like this. You must fight it."

Teyla never begged, not ever. John's hands were shaking, and he balled up his fists to stop it. "I have to."

"No. Elizabeth says that if you ascend that you could survive."

He closed his eyes. "I can't talk about this. Not again. Please, Teyla. Please understand."

"I will not."

John opened his mouth but she put her arms around his shoulders and drew him close. He didn't know how to respond, rubbing her arm with one hand. Teyla pulled away, her face moist.

He'd just made her cry.

"Teyla, I..."

His chest tightened. Then a sharp pain laced through it; his heartbeat doubled. Then skipped few times. She grabbed him by the biceps while he took rapid, raspy breaths.

"John!"

His heart returned to normal, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder. "I'm better. Carson... Carson said I might experience pain like this."

"We should go to the infirmary."

"The mission is in a few hours. He can't do anything, Teyla. You and I both know that."

John pulled away but almost didn't comprehend what he saw.

Atlantis was billions of ones and zeros. He blinked, and it was endless clouds of fluffy blue, glowing orbs, making up the walls and stretching into the ocean.

"John!"

John wiped at his eyes, the towers and building returning to normal metal and alloys.

"I need to go now. We're going to have to start the mission early."

Things became all go, go, go. It didn't take much convincing to move up the time table. The city bustled with activity; people moved and talked on fast-forward, and time kept jumping around on him.

John was in the mess hall, shoveling a fork load of food into his mouth one moment and standing in his quarters changing into a fresh uniform the next. He blinked, staring at his Gerber knife and sliding it into place, still trying to remember how he got here.

"The Queen is more powerful. She will fight you, John," Teyla warned.

When had that conversation taken place?

He waved his hand over the control panel and collided right into Ronon. "Whoa, buddy. Didn't expect you haunting my door."

"You're not going."

John wondered if he missed the part when the mission had been scrapped. "What?" he asked dumbly.

"If I have to stun you, I will."

The Satedan stood there, using his whole body to block John's path. His eyes said it all--he wasn't budging.

John powered down the man's weapon. "Not if your blaster battery's dead."

Ronon stared at the weapon on his hip then back up at him. "I can knock you out another way."

"I'm sure you could but not today," John said, standing his ground. "I need you to move outa the way."

His friend crossed his arms across his hulking chest.

John growled low in his throat. "Don't force me to make it an order," he threatened, but that line was often ignored.

Arguing didn't work on the big guy, and, yeah, John could maybe best him in a fight by using his new Jet Li fast moves, but his body really wasn't up for it. This was Ronon; this was loyalty in its purest form. But he knew what was eating up his friend the most, and it was vastly different than from the rest of his team.

"I was reading... the other day about that bad ass guy, Mocut... in the library." John saw the slight questioning look. "I kinda picked up a little Satedan when I was crawling out of my mind." In truth he'd learned the whole language and begun reading the history of Ronon's people that Elizabeth had asked him to begin recording.

"He led a lot of men and made some crazy choices."

"He's one of our most revered warriors," Ronon defended.

"Yeah, he was. And his decisions helped form the Satedan warrior's code. One that all task masters teach and follow."

"We live and breathe Mocut's way. He founded our military," Ronon stated.

"He did. And many men died willingly with him in the heat of battle. It was the greatest of honors to go down with your task master, defending him, dying side by side." John straightened. "In all the battles and all the wars, your capital city was forged out of the blood of Satedans. But the rivers flowed with the blood of your enemies."

Ronon stood tall and proud.

"But in the final battle, Mocut sent his army to defend the capital, and he went out alone to finish off a small Puta'tal raiding group that was sneaking in through a tiny pass in the mountains. He held them off by himself while the Satedan military defeated the greater army at the entry gates. He knew there wasn't a warrior to spare to fight two fronts."

John could see the pain flicker behind Ronon's eyes.

"The Puta'tal were wiped off the map, ushering in the golden days of Sateda. Mocut won, but he died on the battlefield alone." John held onto his teammate's eyes. "You can't follow me... I'm sorry."

Ronon's face twitched, not moving an inch. Then he clenched his jaw and stepped aside.

"Once we jump out of hyperspace, we'll stay out of sensor range," Caldwell briefed them on the command bridge.

John knew that was his cue, but he'd been misjudging time the last couple of hours and looked over to see Teyla confirm he wasn't spacing out again. "McKay will..." What was he saying? He panicked, searching for his train of thought. "He'll... he'll pilot the cloaked jumper at a reasonably safe distance. Then I'll seek out the Queen."

There was no need to go into the rest of the plan. They all knew it was up to him, and John was getting lightheaded and too lethargic to talk. He felt mesmerized by the stars in the view screen, drawn to their harmony.

"If things don't end in any number of disasters and we get confirmation that this whack job idea worked, we'll radio for you to fire, while we get out of the way, of course," Rodney delivered in his typical unenthusiastic fashion.

"Stargate Command will be on stand by. The Apollo is on its way. Just in case something goes wrong this will still give her a good work out." Caldwell peered at the group. "But I have a good feeling," he added quickly.

All eyes were on John. He glanced up, wondering again if he missed something. "Then let's do this," he said hastily.

"I get twenty minutes to run in a small bag of glucose and give you a nice vitamin shot, Colonel." Carson scurried over. "My stuff is in the infirmary, and you're not going anywhere until I'm done."

The physician stood next to him, blue eyes flickering. "Colonel. Um… this way," he urged.

Is he really up for this?

I heard he was dying.

If anyone can do this it's Colonel Sheppard.

There's a betting pool on the odds of this mission.

John glanced back, only noting the command crew at their stations and having no idea whose thoughts he'd heard. His team waited for him in the hall, and Ronon walked over to gently guide him away.

John splashed water on his face, the mirror reflecting a haggard, sickly figure. The circles under his eyes made them seem sunken in; his dark hair only contrasted his pale completion.

He touched the sleek, polished mirror, watching curved lines and three dimensional graphs of space-time whoosh across the surface. Add in the strange humming, and he waited to be sucked into the looking glass. The property of light began bending around him, and he wondered how long before he lost his lunch in the toilet.

The walls stopped shifting, and John took a long breath to gain his bearings. It was now or never.

The door unlocked with a thought, and he came out. The others didn't try hiding in the shadows and followed him into the launch bay.

Rodney walked beside him, giving him long looks. "You know it's not too late to change your mind. We can be back in Atlantis in two minutes." McKay waited for a reply that never came. "Maybe your mind's not trying to ascend; maybe you just finally cracked and are psychotic, and we're all sharing in your psychosis. Of course that means we're all in need of electroshock treatment," he mumbled. "That's it; we're all stuck in some Tarantino movie or--"

"Rodney," he drawled. "It's... I know."

McKay swallowed, unable to really say how he was feeling, but they didn't communicate in any other way. They were at the jumper, in the red zone, during the last two minutes of the fourth quarter.

The Hive thrummed in waves, the vibration rattling his eardrums and needling the back of his eyes. John gripped both armrests, indenting the soft leather, and closed his lids.

"Colonel, lad?"

John brushed Beckett's hand away but didn't bother standing. "We're close enough, McKay."

"Is there... anything we should do? Chat or hum?"

Ronon glared at Rodney, and Teyla sat down across from John. "We will be here for you. Quietly," she emphasized.

"If you start experiencing pain, Colonel, I want you to stop."

"Don't do anything unless I tell you. No matter what happens." John stared at Carson. "I mean it. This isn't going to be a walk in the park."

"We won't," Ronon stated.

John looked to them all and took several deep breaths. "Okay. Here it goes."

Eyes. Hundreds of eyes. He saw through them, into halls, room chambers, cocoons.

Where was she? John sensed her, lurking, influencing her flock, and he followed the power source into the Queen's mind.

It was like hitting the sound barrier; his mind whiplashed from the impact. He was stunned momentarily and fought his way through a furious wind tunnel, stumbling and falling down against the forces.

I feel you, human.

Not a good sign, but John wouldn't allow the voice to distract him.

You are very strong. Who are you?

This was vastly different than the male drone; power and control were a crushing vice.

You feel Atlantean.

The Queen was distracting, spinning him around in the web of her mind. Her thought processes were vastly layered, multiple wavelengths pulsating into thick barriers.

Where are you going, human?

He didn't have time for this. John focused and barreled through the mental blocks, shattering his way in. The Queen screamed, shrieking loudly in his head.

How dare you! she hissed, her voice shrilling the more he fought. I'll rip you to shreds.

John cried out, pain lashing through his brain. He panted; his body dripped with sweat. People in the jumper shouted, but they were far, far away.

I'm not screwing around, you bitch! John came back swinging, strong-arming through a dizzying swirl of thoughts. He latched on to her commands, following them back to her cognitive function.

Her neural pathways were frenzied, twenty times more active than the drone's, sweeping him away.

I will crush you out of my mind.

PAIN! Searing nerves, invading electrical signals down his spinal column, shooting out through his limbs.

Laughter. Have you been the one messing with our plans? Do you like playing with things that bite back?

John was blinded, spasming in his chair. His teammates were yelling, screaming. But he couldn't stop. He might have told them to wait; he wasn't sure, lost between her mind and his.

"John, you're stronger than her," someone said. "You're more powerful. Do not allow her to confuse you."

The voice was right. His mind was reaching ascension; he should be able to easily overpower a single Wraith Queen.

Think! John sent out a burst of raw anger, overloading the Queen's neurotransmitters, shocking her system. She wailed in response.

Neurons carried messages, and he followed the signals to her frontal lobe while she was too immobilized to react.

Beliefs, desires, perceptions. He had to dig deeper. There—bright flashing lights, billions of firing synapses. Survival. Behavior.

It was harder to focus. Things were closing in. His breathing came in rapid bursts.

There, the command center. He was overwhelmed by all her links to the other Wraith. Each member of her Hive was connected mentally, accepting her orders. It was a gigantic neural network of multicolored strands. John took over; all the thoughts of the Hive became part of his mind.

He kept himself hidden, seeking the ultimate emergency switch. John smiled. He found the attack, control, and procreate instructions.

He kept moving, discovering fight and flight responses.

Then, finally, the mass sleep order.

He'd found it.

Did you really think you could make me submit? You wanted access to all the other Hives, human?

Would you like a taste of all the Wraith?

John flipped the switch, sending out the hibernation command.

NO! the Queen screamed.

John sent out a signal from his mind as a massive pulse was transmitted into his.

Dozens of Wraith Queens and tens of thousands of drone voices ripped through him, and his head exploded.

There was yelling and screaming, most of it John's.

"It's okay, lad. Promise. You're safe." He thought he heard Carson's voice.

A laser beam stabbed in John's left eye and then his right. His head had been split open by a sledgehammer, his brains leaking out from the shattered remains.

Hands were around his skull, touching his neck, his face. Cold metal over his heart.

John's stomach was wrung inside out. "Gonna... be..."

Two more strong hands helped him to his side where he lost breakfast, lunch, and dinner. His body wouldn't stop shaking; daggers dug deep trenches in his head. Pain, so much pain.

"I repeat, we're coming back. And no, I don't know what happened! There's something wrong with Sheppard! No… wait, hold on," Rodney was yelling. "The life signs are definitely abnormal... I don't know. Why don't you come out here and see? If the Hive fires then you'll have your answer!"

The memory of the Wraith voices were still screaming and tearing him up inside. John couldn't make them go away and started thrashing even more.

"Hold his head, Teyla... Colonel… please..."

Carson was telling him something, but John couldn't hear the words as he slipped away.

Feelings of fury and hate.

Constant pain and torment.

He was being torn apart one cell at a time with fire and acid. Evil chased him into the recesses of his mind until he was so lost—so far gone that there was no way to climb back out. John remained curled tightly in a little ball, rocking back and forth to keep the demons at bay.

When things had reached a boiling point of despair, he was ready to let go.

Then light crept in; the vicious attacks disappeared, and the feeling of burning alive went with it.

He was drained to the point of nothing, but a soothing warmth filled in the void, and familiar, softer voices coaxed him back. John floated at the surface, drifting for a long time until things quieted to...

Johnny Cash? That was very weird, but it was like an old friend by his side, escorting him home.

John opened sticky, dried lids to find a dimly lit area with The Man in Black crooning in his left ear. A grin tugged at his lips.

"Oh, thank goodness. You're awake!"

Rodney McKay's words were loud, but there was relief in hearing them.

"If... you... call this… awake," John rasped, throat bone dry. And upon awareness, he felt like pure hell. "I'm... I'm…" He licked parched lips. "…still here."

"Yeah, barely." As soon as the words left Rodney's lips, his face looked stricken. "I mean... it's better than what you were earlier."

After the Wraith.

"Did it... I mean... I don't think…." John couldn't string his thoughts together. "The plan?" he blurted.

Rodney's face fell even further. "It kind of worked."

He was so exhausted. "What happened?" John grit out.

McKay sat heavily down in a chair by his bed. "We're not sure. We thought you could tell us. The Wraith on that Hive did go into hibernation. There were no signs of activity on board, and they didn't even resist when The Daedalus attacked. But the rest... the emergency beacon failed." Rodney looked heartbroken for them both. "The rest of the Hives were unaffected."

John slumped further. "Damn." He'd been so close. "The Queen. She was... a bitch. Was... a lot harder-" He stopped, breathing heavily on his oxygen cannula. "She was a lot harder to fight... Used the emergency signal against me. Reversed it."

"My God... you mean... like your head was hit with thousands of Wraith minds?" McKay's eyes nearly bulged out their sockets. "No wonder your brain waves were so erratic. You gave Carson kittens. You were in this crazy catatonic state. Your EKG was off the chart, but it was inverted or upside down or…. I don't know. The voodoo priest kicked us all out. Thought maybe too many of our thoughts would make things worse. It was my turn to you know... well... I mean... I was dropping by."

It took a lot of effort to turn his head; the boom box sat on the little table. "You... bring that?"

"Maybe. I thought something you enjoyed could reach out to that zombiefied brain." Rodney started shifting in his seat. "Not that your music collection is in any kind of order. Your play list isn't even alphabetical. I thought the default settings did that. Though there was a really cool guitar file on your laptop. Really emotional, kind of bluesy, but I couldn't find the artist."

The infirmary had a dreamy quality about it; things were glowing and fuzzy. It was difficult to pay attention to McKay. "I... did that... the other night." John tried shrugging, barely shifting his shoulders.

"Really? It was very good. Thought that guitar on the floor was just for show; of course, I'm sure you'd be Mozart on the piano," McKay nervously chuckled.

The longer he was awake, the more pain whittled its way into his body. John could barely move. His muscles were tied ropes, and his chest had a fifty pound weight on top; each drawn breath was a struggle.

Staring at McKay was weird. There was an aura around him, deep blues with red tinges that made violet where the two colors met. "So, what's... the verdict?"

"Maybe I should get Carson." Rodney said, rising to his feet.

"Tell me," he wheezed, never breaking eye contact.

His friend couldn't hold his gaze, drifting back down. "I'm not the expert."

"Please."

"You're in multi-organ failure." Rodney swallowed. "Your brain capacity has reached 94 and um... well... that's the gist of things."

This was it. The end. John took stock of himself, noticing IVs in both arms with several bags of stuff hanging on the pole, tiny electrodes attached to his chest and head. He was nothing but wires and tubes.

"I… I... I tried everything I could on that machine. Stayed up for the past two days, even made Carson give me stimulants." Rodney chuckled half-heartedly. "That brought back bad memories." His pale blue eyes stared down at him. "Nothing worked. I've tried everything. I'm... I'm sorry," he said, the last word garbled.

Rodney's words knocked him for a loop; John shifted his eyes, noting his teammate was gazing at the floor, unable to look up.

His mouth filled with saltiness. "Don't... There was nothing you could have done."

"That's not true. I'm the genius, or I was before..." McKay shook his head. "It's a machine. Made up of crystals and circuit boards and wires. And I can't figure it out."

John knew exactly what it was constructed of. "It's a bit more than that." Or was it? Seemed so simple now. The device was just a large 'off/on' switch.

A pain radiated from his head into his back, causing him to gasp.

"I should--"

"Wait!" John forced out, panting until the pain dissipated. He opened moistened eyes. The infirmary was filled with hundreds of white orbs. "There's... there's a flash drive in my desk drawer. Your name's on it." He drew on his O2. "Has my progress on cold fusion and other things that... might… might help. My… my comic book collection. I want you to..."

"Don't!"

The sharp pitch of voice dragged John's attention back to his teammate. Rodney looked pissed. His friend gripped the railing, glaring down at him. "You can do something about this! There's still time."

"McKay."

"Don't McKay me! You can't stop your body from quitting, but your mind is still there. Of course it's mutated beyond belief, but it works. You can still ascend. You don't have to die."

His mouth was overcome by hot peppers. John didn't have the energy to reach for a cup. He mentally lifted the tiny pitcher from the table, water spilling out from its jerky movements.

"Oh, for crying out..." Rodney took it, grabbed a plastic glass and poured. Then he held the cup to John's lips.

It was the best tasting liquid ever, all the river rapids of the Colorado and the waves of Maui. "Thank you."

"Please try. What could it hurt?"

John looked up at the ceiling; it swarmed with beautiful faces. All peaceful and radiant. He'd never believed in angels before. "I... I…." He couldn't admit the real reason for not trying.

"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me." McKay coughed softly. "I mean… well so… so I don't feel so guilty. You know, about not being able to save you."

That was the McKay he knew. "You... want me to ascend... because you're selfish?"

"If he is, lad, then that makes five of us. And I bet the rest of the city, too," Carson said, walking over.

Elizabeth, Teyla, and Ronon followed close behind.

"I saw your EKG change a while ago but thought Rodney might want to talk with you a bit," Beckett explained, checking the computer by John's head.

Elizabeth stood by his right side all yellow and orange. Teyla was more golden, the halos around her body glistening. Ronon walked over next to Rodney with crimson and dark amber trails.

Carson adjusted one of the IVs, beaming emerald with shades of mint green.

"John, you did what you could against the Wraith. You tried. Now, try again. For all of us," Elizabeth asked.

The room swelled with waves of comfort; peace rippled over him. His team, his friends' auras magnified into streams of affection. He'd never felt so wanted before in his life.

They all stood around him, begging with their eyes. How could he say no to them?

"Okay," he coughed, feeling his chest tighten even more. "I'll... I'll try."

Ronon pulled out something silver from the folds of his jacket and placed it in John's left hand, curling his weakened fingers around it. "This was given only to the best warriors on the eve of battle. It belonged to my father and his father's father. I want you to have it."

John was at a loss for words, gripping the aged handle with all his might. Ronon squeezed his bicep for a long time.

Teyla bent down, placing hands at each side of his face and bowed her head to his, whispering to him in Athosian, probably not realizing he understood every single word.

Elizabeth leaned over and brushed away the sweat drenched hair plastered to his forehead. "You have an amazing heart, John. It has touched us all. Always know that we feel the same about you."

John couldn't move anymore; his limbs were too weak to even twitch. His eyes expressed it all, his breath hitching, not from lack of oxygen but something more powerful.

"I... brought you your... uh… favorite CD." Rodney struggled with all the earlier physical displays of fondness. Then his lower jaw shook. "I've never been so challenged, working with someone before."

John grinned from ear to ear. "Thanks, McKay," he rasped.

Carson fretted over one of the machines, face betraying what he was trying to keep at bay. "You've reached 96 brain capacity."

Memories from John's childhood started channeling through him. Moments of a misspent youth. Years of flying every craft known to man. Days in Atlantis and the various worlds he'd stepped on.

He stopped resisting the voices, the city, the draw of energy. John could feel layers separate – emotion, logic, desire, instinct.

Strong, ingrained behavior.

He'd never quit a thing in his life.

John shot up in bed, grabbed Carson's shoulders. "The off switch," he whispered. Then he mentally connected to the physician, sending him the data on how to fix everything.

His heart skipped beats, all four chambers pumping wildly.

"What happened? What did he say?"

He imagined Rodney's flushed face, spittle hanging from his lips.

Noises. Foot steps, voices.

John's body was dying; his mind was disconnecting but still hung on. Still fired.

"Bloody hell! He told me how to reverse the process!"

"Then do it!" Ronon's voice was angry. Desperate.

It was weird to still see through dying eyes, his friends fading away while the city nearly blinded him with light. Billions of lines of code twisted and spiraled outwards, reaching out for him.

"It'll take hours! I can't stop his brain from evolving any more. Let alone keep his body alive long enough!"

"But you know how?"

Teyla's voice was so small.

"Aye!"

Carson had gotten his instructions, but it was too late. Any moment now there would be no turning back.

"All you need is time?"

"Aye, Rodney, but I'd don't know how to slow--"

Snapping sounds.

"Send him into a hypothermic coma!"

"Are you daft?"

"Stop questioning me and get your sheep loving hands in motion!"

A powerful energy storm grew overhead, building with a static charge.

There was shouting and confusion. Squeaky wheels of a cart being pushed towards the bed.

"Get fans, ice packs and wet blankets. We'll use those to start with...Jana, darling, grab Dr. Lockton, we need a cooling catheter here, stat!"

Cold! All over his body. Ice over his skin.

Sounds dissolved. Answers to everything ever known came pouring into John's subconscious. Pure numbers, pure language.

"Injecting demerol and Desflurane. Come on, lad. Hold on, hold on."

He was thrown into an icy river! Blood flow slowed through his arteries. His lungs inflated shallowly, and the oxygen level in his cells depleted.

All the theorems and words became garbled.

An oxygen mask was placed over his nose and mouth.

"Everyone give me room, I have to insert this into a main vein."

The pretty clouds were vanishing into puffs of smoke, and everything turned into a vacuum of freezing black.

"Do you have enough blankets over him?" Rodney's voice was frail and exhausted, but it was lighter.

"We have to warm him up slowly; I don't want to risk any further complications."

"How can anything be more risky than re-writing his DNA?"

John opened his gritty lids; his entire team was in chairs or standing around his bed.

"Hey," Ronon spoke.

Five sets of eyes stared at him, but it took a long time to collect his thoughts.

"You probably gave his brain frostbite!" Rodney blurted.

"Keep i' down, McKay... Gotta horrible headache," John complained, but smiled as he snuggled under the mounds of fuzzy warmth. "Looks like 'm all here... I mean," he looked over at Carson, "'m okay. Right?"

"Aye. Your body is a bit angry at ya for trying to shut down, but you're bouncing back. The organ failure reversed itself once your brain told things to work again. And it doesn't look like you have any permanent damage, but you're gonna be my guest for some time." Carson adjusted an IV line that didn't need to be fussed with.

"What about your powers, John? Can you still feel them?" Elizabeth asked, gripping his side rail.

His head felt like cotton candy, but John focused on his team clearing away the cobwebs. "Nothing. Can't hear any thoughts." He tried to lift Carson's stethoscope from around his neck. "I think everything's back t' normal."

Teyla smiled, grabbing his hand and rubbing it. "I still do not understand. How did you figure out the cure?"

He cleared his throat, blinked a few times as he tried to sort it out. "I...I was making things too complicated. The machine activated stuff that normally wasn't on in my head. All I needed to do was think of a way to...turn it back off." John looked to Carson for help for a better explanation.

The physician fumbled a second with the spotlight suddenly on him. "Genetic sequences are like big circuits. A primary sequence gets switched on then this sequence gets read and makes a protein. The protein acts like a signal and can stimulate cells to produce hormones, neurotransmitters and so on."

They all looked at Carson with varying degrees of confusion. John could follow it, but not to the precision he had before the machine. It was a good feeling and he found himself rubbing subconsciously at his chest under the blankets.

"What I'm trying to say is Colonel Sheppard sent me the exact coding needed to create an enzyme that broke down what bound together the mutated DNA. It effectively killed the altered sequences responsible for all the problems. Then he sent me a second code that reversed the mutations in his brain."

"Like the retrovirus?" Elizabeth asked.

"Aye. The only way to introduce the changes directly into the cells was through a virus. An animal virus to be exact. One that could withstand the cold," Carson finished.

John recalled feeling like the abominable snowman. "The cold?"

"He medically induced you into hypothermia," Rodney interrupted. "My idea by the way," he grinned. "It was the only way to slow down your brain enough to keep you from ascending. And by putting you on ice...literally," he grinned again. "kept your body from dying, too."

"Like suspended animation," John said.

"Aye, I used a heat exchange catheter in a vein close to your heart. Cool device actually...no pun intended."

Rodney rolled his eyes at the physician. "We made you into a Popsicle, Carson created the genetic switch and um...turned off all your annoying advanced DNA." McKay smiled smugly again. "Simple really."

"Yeah, then why didn't you think of it?" John accused.

"What? You were supposedly the smart one. Why did you have to wait 'til your deathbed to come up with it?" Rodney snapped back.

John rubbed at his temples.

"Alright, that's enough. We're gonna let the colonel get some much needed rest. He still needs constant monitoring," Beckett ordered everyone out with shooing motions.

"What about…."

"And lunch," Carson interrupted.

"Sounds like a plan," John sighed, snuggling back against his pillows.

Elizabeth squeezed his knee. Teyla bent down to kiss his forehead. John opened his eyes and watched them leave.

Rodney snorted. "Now that you're not taking up all my time, I've got work to do," he said, waving goodbye.

Ronon, who had been mainly silent, moved a few items around his bedside table and placed the knife from earlier there. "I want you to keep this. You still have a long journey ahead and you'll need it."

"Wow... Thanks, big guy."

He thought Ronon was going to say something more, but the Satedan reached over, grabbed him in a big bear hug, squeezed hard, and walked away before John caught his breath.

Then he was alone with the sounds of the infirmary, sounds that didn't rattle his ears but lulled him to sleep instead. The few times he woke up, there was always someone nearby in the chair, and he rested more deeply for the remainder of the day.

John nodded at people in the halls without distraction. Noise from the firing lane didn't try to pierce his eardrums, and random physics equations didn't pop into his head to explain how the bullets ripped through the target.

Teyla wouldn't spar with him just yet, but he enjoyed watching her kick butt against every opponent without dissecting the moves for instant analysis. A few of her maneuvers were too quick for his eye to catch, and he sat back, observing for an hour.

"Would you like to meditate with me later?" Teyla asked when she was done.

"Don't think so. Gonna give my mind a break from reaching new levels for a while," he replied.

"If you like. Though I think it might be beneficial after what you've been through."

John shook his head. "Thanks for the offer."

He found himself out on the pier later, hitting golf balls into the ocean below. Even when one of his shots went wide of his imaginary hole, there was no manipulating the ball.

"You miss it?"

Ronon's voice came out of nowhere, and John turned to face him. "A little. I'll miss having that extra something on the battlefield. The speed and agility came in handy."

"I'll increase your exercise routine. That'll make you faster."

"That'll make me sore, no thanks. I'll stick to running around the city," John smirked.

"You don't need super powers," Ronon stated, slapping him on the back. Then his teammate stood there for an hour, watching him send golf balls into the ocean.

John watched his friend leave and enjoyed staring at the towers of the city without them trying to talk back.

Later that night, John was in one of the labs he'd spent too many hours in, scrolling through one of the computers. He furrowed his brow in confusion at thousands of complex math equations.

"Oh, you found them," Rodney said, walking in with a cup of coffee.

"It's all gibberish," John sighed.

"Yeah, scribblings of a mad man. I understand a few here and there, but yeah. Kind of like reading Klingon."

John scowled at him. "My notebook is the same way. I can't even follow the stuff written in English."

"You should try that flash drive you gave me. Even Zelenka threw up his hands in disgust," McKay said, but there was amusement in his voice.

"You don't seem to be too upset. Thought you'd be running everything through one of your programs," John sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair.

"There's only room for one genius around here, and that's me," Rodney said, smirking, but then took a seat, his expression serious. "The keys to the universe are meant to be puzzled through and pieced together. Not handed over on a silver platter. Kind of takes the fun out of things. Of course, that being said, a few of the answers would have been really helpful. But don't worry – yours truly will solve them one day. The old fashioned way," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Oh, by the way, the Ancient Google thing crashed again but don't worry about that either. I'll repair it."

John clicked off the computer and stretched lazily in his chair. "Think I might take a ride around the city in one of the jumpers."

"That's a complete waste of time but have fun."

"I have the new Batman Begins. Got it from someone off the Daedalus," John said offhandedly.

Rodney was like a kid in the candy store. "Already? Screw you flying around in the jumper; let's go watch it."

John chuckled. "We'll use your stash of popcorn. And call Ronon and Teyla to join us," he said, standing up.

"We used my popcorn last time, Sheppard!"

"My bootleg copy. You provide the snacks," he said. John ignored the rant behind him, content that things might actually be back to normal.

He stood silently, eyes closed, thoughts free-flowing. But they were his thoughts; his mind. John brushed his fingers along the console, felt the tiny tingle under the skin and smiled to himself.

A/N:

I wanted to thank those who have left me some wonderful feedback. This story ate my brain!

On my profile page is the link to the big bang site that has this as a single file and all the math equations I could not use here. There were also two wonderful art covers made for this, please check them out and feed the artist.