Author's Note: See, I didn't fall off the face of the Earth! Last chapter, and mucho apologies for the delay. I was a bad writer. No biscuit for me.

XII: Full Moons and Butt Sniffing

What Elizabeth found in her in box the next morning:

To: atlantis-all

From: Dr. Rodney McKay

As you may have already heard, while attending the International Science Symposium in Prague earlier this month I had the misfortune of being bitten by a Pretender (see this e-mail from Dr. Weir 11/2/07 for clarification). Or, more specifically, a werebear. I have already survived two nights of transformation, and I can assure all of you – my personality and faculties have remained unchanged, and it can be safely said that that shall remain the case.

Any questions can be directed to me, personally, and should I be unavailable I have authorized Dr. Weir and our own resident werepanther, John Sheppard, to act as my advocates.

Dr. M. Rodney McKay, Ph.D., Ph.D.

-oOo-

Rodney was a scientist, so that pretty much meant that in the grand scheme of things he had more curiosity than an entire crazy lady's bevy of cats. After lunch on that third day he stopped by one of the chem labs and picked up a small bottle of silver nitrate solution. Since he was a genius, and there was no way in hell he'd ever test the solution on his skin directly, and he really wanted to know if any of those cheesy monster movies had any merit, he prepared a slide with a few drops of his blood on it. Then, after double gloving, putting on a mask and safety goggles, then a splash guard filched from the infirmary over those, he carefully added a drop of silver nitrate.

His blood sample bubbled and burned away in a matter of seconds and cracked the slide.

-oOo-

"Do you know how many things there are in this place that have the potential to kill me, Carson? Do you? I risk my very life just stepping through the door!"

Carson jumped when Rodney barreled into his office in full rant mode. "What…."

"I could just come in for a hangnail – not that I wouldn't come in for a hangnail because really, I'm not that pathetic – or, or, or a deep sliver or burn and blam, I could lose my hand. Not just a finger, but my entire hand!"

"Rodney…."

"Are you aware of how many simple antiseptics have, have trace amounts of silver in them? A crapload! And that is a legitimate scientific term, mind you – it means more than I really want to contemplate at this moment."

"What in God's…."

"We need to do an inventory. Right now! Gather up anything that is lethal to me and incinerate it immediately…." Rodney fell silent only after Carson stood up and whacked him soundly on top of the head with the latest issue of the Journal of Molecular and Genetic Medicine. "Ow!"

"All right – now that I have your attention…." Carson slapped the journal back down on his desk and Rodney jumped. "What in the bloidy hell are you prattlin' on about?"

Rodney lifted a hand and made a rolling motion. "Hello – allergy to silver."

Carson let out the most put upon sigh of his entire life. "Rodney, I am fully aware of that, and there is a complete listing of what can and cannot be used on you in your medical history." Then his eyes suddenly got wide. "Oh, dear God – what did you do?" He came around the desk in full mother hen mode.

"Nothing."

Carson crossed his arms and glowered.

"Nothing!" Rodney repeated. When Carson continued to glare at him he added, "Directly to me. It was a blood sample. A couple drops. That's all!" He rubbed his head and grimaced.

"What happened?" Carson asked, his irritation gone in an instant.

"It burned up. Poof. Point-zero-one solution."

"Really, now…."

Rodney did not like the way Carson said that – to him it was translating as I'd like to see that, let's try it again. And his expression…. "Don't look at me like that. You're giving me flashbacks to Chaya…." The second the words left his mouth, Rodney truly regretted it. Carson reacted as if slapped, and the utter despair and pain that crossed his friend's face was almost too much to take. "Sorry! Sorry! Didn't mean it! Backtracking now – shall never mention that name ever again. It and Valdemort are synonymous from now on." He made a zipping motion over his mouth, and that did elicit a faint smile from Carson. He decided to change direction. "So, is Sheppard allergic to silver, too, or am I just the lucky one in that department?"

Carson ran a hand down his face and scratched at the day old stubble on his chin. "He's sensitive, yes, but not that sensitive. He did break out in a rash from some of the treated dressings after several days, but it wasn't too nasty. It was a good thing Teyla was around for advice." Carson grimaced faintly. "Now she and the pixies have to be careful with…. Ah, that's really not for me to say."

Rodney made a mental note to try to casually ask Teyla if she had any allergies.

"Now, can I set your mind at ease and show you the notes in your file?"

Rodney nodded, and fifteen minutes later he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or nauseous. The list was impressive. "Holy crap, Carson. You're … you're thorough, to say the least."

"Aye, Rodney, I am." Carson grinned smugly. "I'm a good doctor. And you're a good friend." He gave Rodney's shoulder a squeeze. "Even if you do wish I was a veterinarian three days every month."

"Oh, har har." Rodney sneered, but inside he was beaming.

-oOo-

The third change was still uncomfortable as hell – he still got the chills and sweats and shakes before the brief flash of pure, mind blowing agony followed by the surreal euphoria. Even the bear within him seemed more comfortable with it, but it still, in his scientific opinion, sucked big time.

"So, what are we going to do tonight?" Rodney asked John from his perch on the quarantine room's bed, his feet swinging a good foot above the tile floor.

John beetled his brows. "Same thing we do every night, take over…."

"Oh, no. No no no no no. I'm the Brain, or did you forget?"

John chuffed. "Yeah, I think we all know that. Many times over." He glanced at Carson and rolled his eyes, and Carson snorted.

"Well, whatever you two do, play nice. These last two nights have worn me out." Carson scrubbed his face. "Keller has night shift tonight. I'm off to bed."

"'Night, doc," John said. Carson nodded and gave him a weak wave as he shuffled on by. Then he focused on Rodney, his whiskers fully forward and fanned and a devilish smirk lighting his dark features. "It hasn't rained for two days – how do you feel about going outside?"

If Rodney's ears could move, they'd be standing straight up and perked forward. "Really?" He hopped off the bed and damned near bounced in place.

John let out a short, coughing laugh. "You, lab denizen extraordinaire, are anxious to go outside?"

Rodney's muzzle scrunched down into an irritated scowl. "Yeah? So?" He wasn't about to admit he had had a blast in the greenhouse, until Yogi went all psycho over Lorne – and really, what the hell was that all about anyway – and now he was eager to try the "great outdoors". If anything, he was dying to know what it smelled like….

John held up his hands, but he was still grinning. "Jeez, okay. Down, boy. Let's go." They headed out into the hall, and as they clicked their way to the service elevators John gave Rodney a sideways glance and asked, "So, how you doing with your resident?"

Rodney was quiet for a moment, his muzzle now wrinkled into a thoughtful snarl. "It's really strange," he started, hesitantly. "During the day I can feel it in the back of my mind, like I constantly have someone incredibly large and grumpy watching everything I do over my shoulder, kind of like my high school chemistry teacher. On steroids. With PMS. I've even turned around a few times and expected someone to be standing there the sense is so strong, but there never is." They had reached the service elevators and Rodney poked the down button with a claw. "It's like having a sentient shadow." The doors slid open silently. "Is that what it's like with you?"

John followed Rodney into the elevator. "Well, yes and no. I may call my vargyr soul my inner jaguar, but it's more like, ah, my, um … base nature? It's still me but … not?"

"Ah, an id versus superego thing. Huh." Rodney nodded to himself. "Never thought those therapy sessions would come in handy this way." He snorted. "On the outside you present a civili … well, a rational … ah, human, but on the inside you're basically an animal." He didn't notice John's glare. "But me, I'm actually possessed by Yogi's evil ankle biting twin that loves beer and must be part frog." He hadn't miss a single piece of popcorn John flicked at him the night before. Not one.

John chuffed. "That was pretty funny. Caldwell damn near blew beer out his nose."

"He did? Damn, I missed that."

The doors opened and they found themselves on the lowest level of Atlantis. As they started down the long corridor that traversed the entire length of the complex both men fell silent when they passed the room that once held a horror contained behind a force field. They were well past it before either one spoke again. "So, you really can't change into a full panther?"

"Nope. I'm either human or this mix." He held up his hands and regarded them. "The best of both forms, with opposable thumbs."

"But you can run on all fours." He'd seen the security video of that last run, too, and it both fascinated and freaked the hell out of him.

"Yeah, but it makes my lower back hurt like a mother – way out of practice."

"Huh. I can see why." Not quite a third of the way down the corridor they turned right into a much wider one. "But running all doubled over like you do doesn't? Just watching you makes my back scream."

"Once I get up to speed, it's more of a matter of balance than anything." John turned around and walked backwards a few steps as he gestured at Rodney's now considerably shorter legs. "Bet you could run better on all fours than I can. Your legs don't have the freaky ankles and stretched out feet like mine do." He turned back around. "Of course those gorilla arms you're sporting…." He danced away from the swipe Rodney took at him. "Just sayin', McGilla."

Rodney snorted.

The corridor ended in a garage door, and next to it a double metal safety door. John pulled his security badge out of his sweat's pocket and swiped it through the reader. A multiple click sounded and he pushed one side open. "After you."

Rodney led the way, then stopped and sniffed the air. "Teyla and Ronon are joining us?""And who else?"

Sniff. The little and numerous hairs on Rodney's neck rose briefly. "Lorne." He glanced at Sheppard and saw the ultimate Cheshire cat grin.

"You are learning, young Padawan."

Rodney flipped him off.

They passed the fleet of forklifts and electric mules and pallet jacks and made their way past the shelves and crates of supplies to the loading dock. Another door, another swipe, and they were on the loading dock. Ronon, Teyla, and Lorne over by the boathouse waiting for them. "So, how do you like the great outdoors so far?" He went a couple steps before he realized he was alone and turned around.

Rodney was frozen in place only a few feet from the door, his head back, eyes closed, and his nose wiggling back and forth like a giant rabbit's. He took in a deep, deep breath, and on the exhale let out a rumbling, basso sigh of pure contentment. And for the first time since he changed, he felt the bear in him bristle with utter joy.

It was incredibly intoxicating.

He could smell the sea, the trees, the dirt, fish, gasoline and oil, humans and Pretenders, the concrete, fish…. His brain was seemingly processing everything at light speed and feeding him information on every single aspect of the environment around him, letting him know that he was, well, home. His skin was tingling and he just knew his fur was rippling in goose bumps from his head to his feet.

Then he opened his eyes. "Oh, wow."

Rodney never really thought about moonlight. Hell, he never really noticed it before, especially since he was seldom outside, and being the Pacific Northwest it was usually clouded over and raining those few times he had ventured near a window. Of course there was that ill fated night up in the astronomy lab…. That night had been relatively clear, but it wasn't the moon that had everyone's attention. Right now all he could see was the moon, and every single fiber of his being seemed to be riveted on it. Silvery didn't even begin to cover what he was seeing – the surface rippled with color as iridescent and myriad as a fine Australian opal, a constant shifting and shimmering that practically breathed with a life of its own. The scientist within him was babbling that that wasn't possible, but the bear spirit was damn near singing praises to it.

The light even had weight…. He could feel it caressing his fur like phantom breaths, making his skin warm and his blood and body hum, and he wanted to just throw his head back and howl with joy. Or the bear equivalent, that is. Again the scientist spoke up with that's preposterous, and Rodney replied with a mental oh, shut up. His inner Yogi snorted.

A heavy sigh distracted Rodney, and he glanced to his left and saw Sheppard standing next to him, his arms crossed and his own gaze fixed on the moon. "Gorgeous, isn't it?" he said on a soft breath.

Rodney's attention went back to the sky. "Yeah." They stood there in silence for a moment, and above the sound of the waves lapping against shore and dock they could hear soft footsteps approach. A moment later Teyla was standing on the other side of Rodney. "Have you two always seen the moon like this?"

"Yes," Teyla replied contentedly. From the other side Rodney heard Sheppard suck in a breath and sigh. "To my people, She is a reflection of our heart – the pure light of our true selves."

"To vargyrs, most anyway, our soul."

Rodney didn't know what it was about the way Sheppard said that, but he turned his head and looked at the other man. For the briefest moment he saw the laid back, nothing-phases-me mask slip, and a sadness there that even stilled the bear in him. Then John noticed his audience and the mask was back in place, and Rodney really wondered what other things had happened to him in his past to cause that much of a shadow….

John cleared his throat and ducked his head a bit. "I, ah, always loved moonlight on water. It's … peaceful." He shrugged and rubbed at his neck self consciously.

Rodney finally focused on the bay, and another soft wow escaped him. The water was as colorful as the moon herself.

"You three just going to stand there and gawp all night?" Ronon yelled out. Rodney jumped and saw the big man waving them over, his teeth flashing in the, to Rodney anyway, incredibly bright light. "Get your asses over here – we have a pic-a-nic basket."

"And beer," Lorne added.

Rodney's stomach and inner bear were leading him on in a heartbeat. He stopped a few steps away from Lorne and they gave each other a weary once over, but the bear stayed quiet and both let out faint sighs of relief. Then Rodney was eyeing the fairly large cooler that sat between Lorne and Ronon. He rubbed his paws together and claws clattered ominously. "So, what did you bring, um, beer wise?"

Ronon let out a short bark of laughter. "What, you're not hungry?"

"Well, yeah – changing requires a lot of calories, and, you know, hypoglycemic and all." He got distracted when Ronon flipped the top up and the scent of bread and roast beef and horseradish filled his sinuses. He let out a happy little sound as he snatched up a humongous sub sandwich and a brown bottle without a label. "What's this?" He looked at his full hands, from wrapped sandwich to bottle, and was at a loss as to what to tackle first. He wanted the sandwich, but Yogi was leaving puddles of drool on his cerebellum over the beer. Jeez, am I going to have to do a, a psychic intervention? Chill! He wasn't quite certain, but he thought his resident whimpered.

"Dunno," Ronon said as he grabbed a couple bottles in each hand and proceeded to pass them out. "Teyla brought 'em."

"I thought something special would be in order," Teyla supplied with a warm smile. She calmly reached over and twisted the top off of Rodney's bottle before uncapping her own.

John held his up to the light and squinted at the contents before he opened it, then hesitantly took a sniff before he sipped. He lifted an eyebrow. "This isn't Sidhe, is it?"

Teyla smirked and dropped her chin. "Are you hallucinating?"

"Um…." John squinted at Rodney. "He still a hairy, bowlegged, barrel-chested knuckle-dragger?"

"Yup," Ronon and Lorne both replied.

"Huh. Guess not, then." He took a longer pull and almost dribbled because of the smirk that lit his dark features.

"Asshole," Rodney muttered before taking a swig. His eyes rolled back and he made a low, rumbling growl of pure pleasure. "Oh, dear God," he muttered as the aftertaste of honey hit. Even Yogi was burbling happily in the back of his mind. "Oh, please tell me there is more, 'cuz seriously, this is, is, is nirvana."

Teyla laughed softly. "Yes, there is more for later. But for now…." She raised her bottle. "To you, Dr. McKay, and your successful and certainly beyond expectations transformation. It is wonderful to still have … you with us."

"Hear, hear," Lorne said, and actually sounded sincere.

"Don't let the staff hear that," Ronon added as they clinked bottles together. "They were hoping he would actually change."

Rodney stuck his floppy tongue out, and Ronon just laughed. "Well, Zelenka has already stated that he couldn't see much of a change. So, it's same old same old."

"With the only exception being three days every month you need industrial strength Nair," John said.

"And you need it daily," Rodney shot back. "Seriously, you don't have a five o'clock shadow – it's more of a five minute shadow. I bet you started shaving in the fifth grade." He took a drink. "And please don't tell me vargyr women are as hairy as the men. That would be just so sick and wrong."

Now it was John's turn to stick his tongue out.

"Yup," Lorne drawled. "No change at all."

-oOo-

After Ronon and Rodney had their "little" snack, the whole group decided to head to the beach on the north shore of Atlantis. Lorne and Ronon tagged a half dozen steps behind and carried on a quiet conversation about the best fishing spots in Alaska. John knew why they were back there – when Ronon bent over to grab a sandwich for himself he saw the zat stuffed in the waistband of his pants when his hoodie rode up in back. No doubt the Major had one as well, and he was pretty sure Rodney didn't notice.

At the moment Rodney wasn't noticing much of anything. His nose was literally leading him down the path, and he was acting like a puppy. His head was swiveling back and forth, his nose twitching like crazy, and he had yet to finish a complete sentence before something else distracted him. When he heard Sheppard laughing softly he glared at the man. "What?"

"You remind me of a cartoon I saw years ago about what goes through the mind of a puppy. 'Ooo, ooo, what's that? Gotta sniff it! Oop, gotta pee. Ooo, ooo, what's that? Gotta sniff it! Oop, gotta pee!'" He was laughing when Rodney just casually backhanded him in the arm. John shot nearly ten feet sideways, rolled through duff, and came up on his feet and in a crouch, claws extended.

The whites of Rodney's eyes were showing as he froze in place. "Holy crap!" he barked out in surprise. "Oh, crap," he muttered a second later as he registered Sheppard's ready-to-attack stance.

John sheathed his claws, rubbed his arm, and let out a somewhat high-pitched and indignant, "Ow!" He stomped back over to Rodney and glowered at him. And shook. Pine needles and dirt flew everywhere, and Rodney smirked. John's eyes narrowed and he smacked Rodney upside the back of his head.

"Ow!"

Lorne and Ronon were snickering, and Teyla just shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I don't think Yogi and Snagglepuss fits you two," Lorne said. "You're definitely becoming more like Balloo and Baggy."

John and Rodney glared alarmingly at Lorne, suddenly looked at each other, then both broke up. "Oh, man – I'm never going to be able to watch that with my niece ever again without picturing your furry mug," Rodney moaned.

"And if you start to shake and shimmy and sing, you're on your own, pal."

Teyla had her arms crossed and one hand up by her mouth to cover her own soft laugh. "I don't know, John – I think that would be rather adorable."

"Hey, no help from the peanut gallery!"

"And trust me, you don't want to hear my singing," Rodney added. He pointed at Ronon, his long claw waggling in the moonlight. "Now you'd make a pretty good King Louie, I think. You have a primate thing going there, what with the crazy hair and the grunting."

Ronon put his hands on his hips and frowned.

"Or, maybe not." He glanced at John, and snorted. "Baggy."

John chuffed. "Balloo." When he turned back around to head down the path, he gave a little shimmy, started humming, and clapped his hands over his head.

"Oh, for the love of …," Rodney growled and threw his hands up in the air. He flashed his teeth at Lorne. "This is all your fault, you know."

The Major's own teeth flashed in the moonlight.

"Hmm – that really is adorable," Teyla said, and John suddenly started walking normal again, his head down however and the line of his shoulders, well, pouty.

Rodney heard him mutter something along the lines of Onca are not adorable as he hurried to catch up. He fell into step next to him, and they walked in silence for awhile, the moonlight dappling the path before them and the quiet only broken by the soft sound of footsteps and the night breeze high up in the tall pines.

But every once in awhile, one would glance at the other and snicker.

They could hear the sound of waves crashing upon the rocks protecting the little beach before Rodney spoke up. "I'd like to try, um, changing into a full bear." He felt Yogi – and as far as he was concerned that's what he'll remain – perk up in his mind.

John glanced at him, eyes narrowed and flashing blue for a moment as the light hit them at just the right angle. "I don't know, McKay. I think it'd be better if you waited…."

"I am in control," Rodney snapped. "If that's what you're worried about."

"Well, yeah."

"I can do this."

John looked past Rodney to Teyla as she came up beside him. "What do you think?"

Rodney felt a light touch on his arm and turned to face Teyla. She kept her hand on his as she studied him, and for a second Rodney swore her eyes went cat slit. He blinked, and decided it just had to be the shadows playing tricks on him.

"He is ready." She lowered her hand and smiled sweetly.

Rodney grinned crookedly and looked at Sheppard. He stood there with his arms crossed, and it was obvious he still didn't share her confidence. He felt his grin start to slide, until John chuffed and relaxed his whiskers, of all things. He never thought in a million years his experience with cats would help him understand a person so well. But then Sheppard started smirking. "You do realize you'll have to strip to do a full change."

"Crap." Rodney looked down at his not so baggy t-shirt and sweats. "These are stretchy. They'll be fine."

"I'm not a wildlife biologist, but I've seen enough of them to know a bear's ass is a wider than its shoulders," Ronon rumbled.

"You won't be able to talk to us, either," John said.

"Crap," Rodney muttered again.

Teyla put her hand on his forearm again. "I will be able to hear you, Dr. McKay – I can be your voice." She raised an eyebrow at John.

John just lifted his hands and shrugged.

"Oh, okay." He glanced down again at his clothes. "Strip? Really?"

"I think it would be best." Teyla pointed to some scrub brush near the tree line. "That should give you some privacy."

Rodney started to shuffle that way, and when he glanced at Sheppard he truly couldn't read anything from his expression. He got behind the bush – it was an evergreen of some kind, that much he knew, and it had little white berries that glowed blue in the moonlight and smelled like cheap gin – and found it was pretty private. But he could still see Lorne and Ronon grinning like maniacs. His stomach dropped. "You better not have a camera, Major!"

Lorne held his hands up to show they were empty.

"Yeah, probably got it squirreled away in your jacket, just waiting for the full moon," he mumbled to himself and pulled his t-shirt off and draped it across the bush. He expected to shiver once cold air hit his skin, then remembered he had a thick layer of fur now. Okay, this isn't so bad, he thought as he undid the tie on his sweats. Those proved a little trickier to pull off with his claws, but he managed to without falling on his ass, and now just stood there in his boxers. "Oh, man," he mumbled, then glanced quickly at Ronon and Lorne again. Cheesy grins. No camera. Off they came and now he felt the cold air on truly bare skin. It was nice to know some things didn't change when he changed. He was in the process of tucking his shorts into his sweats when a thought, no, a couple thoughts hit him. "Um, this is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Probably not any more than it did earlier," John replied. Teyla nodded.

"Okay. Okay. That wasn't so bad. Short, incredibly short. Brief flare, really. Not as bad as a stubbed toe, but doable. I can handle that." Rodney's hands came up, his fingers fluttering briefly. "Um, how the hell do I do this?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. Picture yourself as a real bear. Not able to, remember?"

"Right. Right. Visualization. I am a bear. I am a bear." Rodney scrunched his eyes down tight and tried to picture himself on all fours, ambling around, his arms, no, all his legs the same length. I am a bear. I am a…. His concentration was interrupted by Lorne.

"Uh, doc? No offense, but you look like you doing something else a bear does in the woods there."

Rodney's eyes popped open and he flipped Lorne off. Okay, no facial expressions, he thought as he closed his eyes again and concentrated all his incredible intellect on that one single image of a bear. Yogi let out a triumphant roar in his head just as that oily sliding feeling hit again. The pain was minimal – mostly in his hips and shoulders – then it was gone. He was down, his chin flat on the ground, and he could feel his ass sticking up in the air. "Oh, man – that felt awful," his brain told him he'd said out loud, but what he heard was a long drawn out grumble that ended in a snort. He started to get to his feet – and that was another really odd sensation – and it wasn't until he had shuffled halfway around the bush that he realized he hadn't ordered his body to get up.

"Dr. McKay?" Teyla called.

Rodney felt his head swivel towards her on its own. Holy crap, he grumbled as he saw her – she seemed to be surrounded by a faint halo of pearlescent light, and her face…. He mentally went silent with shock, and Yogi made his body step forward another foot.

"McKay?"

The tone was soft but enough to make Yogi retreat the step he gained and Rodney felt a little control return. He squinted at Sheppard, and swallowed. There was another image seemingly superimposed over the man – the body shape was similar, but the head was pure jaguar – that practically crackled with power. And it looked pissed. He shook his head and backed up yet another step.

"Doc? You all right?"

Rodney swiveled towards Lorne and Ronon. Ronon looked the same, but Lorne…. A faint cloud like blood in water swirled around him and Yogi bristled. A low growl boiled up out of his chest and powerful legs tensed to charge.

Oh, no you fucking don't, Rodney bellowed in his head and seized control in mid leap. He hit the ground as his body fought to follow another set of orders and his legs just didn't know what the hell to do. My body, asshole. You want to live here? Well, my lab, my rules. Get used to it. Since the visualization seemed to work so well earlier, he imagined tackling the oily shadow – only this time it was a, a big black bean bag – and wrestling it to the ground with the intention of shoving it into a really big mental pet taxi.

The bean bag fought back.

Oh, shit, Rodney thought as he was thrown free. That isn't possible, the inner scientist babbled. Oh, shut the hell up! Can't you see I'm busy here? Rodney screamed back and landed on the bean bag again. It bucked, but he held on and started pummeling it. I did not get two doctorates, spend five years in a craphole of a lab in the middle of the desert reverse engineering alien tech, not to mention that year in Siberia, to finally get the only job on this entire planet that could showcase my brilliance just to become some alcoholic mutant teddy bear's bitch! The bean bag started to shrink. No – flatten out. And it seemed to be sticking to his fists. Or what he imagined were his fists, anyway, in this truly wacked out Kubrickian hallucination. Oh, and I can recite pi to the fourteenth decimal point in my sleep. Can you? No? Hah! Didn't think so. The shadow was nearly gone, but his arms were dark up to his shoulders. So, Yogi, as long as you're in my head – it's my way or the highway! One last punch and the shadow disappeared, but was followed by another sliding sensation. Only this time it wasn't unpleasant – it was a lot like putting on a pair of worn but familiar jeans and his "I'm With Genius" shirt.

Hey, that's different, Rodney thought before he passed out.

-oOo-

They all saw Rodney come out from behind the juniper, but Teyla was the first to sense something wasn't quite right. John picked it up a second later and started forward only to be stopped by Teyla's hand in the middle of his chest. "Wait," she said and cocked her head. Her eyes widened, then she cried out and cradled her head. John caught her, but he was bristling and growling and it was clear he wanted to do nothing more than charge forward. "Wait," she said again, her voice tight with pain. "He's … fighting it. Please, John. Patience."

Ronon and Lorne came up, zats drawn, and they all watched helplessly as Rodney thrashed around on the ground, his claws boxing at air, then ripping huge clods of earth free as he rolled over and over. Twice more Teyla stopped John from interfering, and as she held him back with one small hand on his chest she could feel his deep growl that was completely drowned out by Rodney's roaring.

When Rodney finally fell silent and collapsed the softer roar of the surf felt practically deafening.

Teyla started for Rodney and this time John held her back. She whirled on him. "It is safe now."

John met her copper bright eyes for a moment, glanced briefly towards Rodney, then nodded and let go. They both were by Rodney's side a second later, Lorne and Ronon still covering the prone body. Teyla knelt and carefully cradled his head in her lap, her hand settling on his forehead as she started tracing a thumb between his eyes. And even though he could see Rodney's sides heaving with every rapid breath, John still had to place a hand there to reassure himself the man was still alive.

"What the hell happened?" Lorne gritted out between clenched teeth.

"He, um, fought Yogi," John said, his voice slightly awed. Just like the first night when he went alpha, he could sense the shadow of the bear around Rodney when he stepped out from behind the bush. Then something else rose up, and though he didn't actually see it with his own eyes, he could tell it was, well, bright. Very bright. Staring into the noon sun bright. And mad as hell. Now the shadow was gone. John looked up at Lorne and Ronon. "He won."

Ronon was the first to deactivate his zat and tuck it away. Lorne hesitated until Teyla looked up at him and nodded.

Rodney groaned and it almost sounded like a long drawn out ow that ended in a grunt. A blue eye cracked open and looked up at Teyla. She laughed, and the sound was pure joy. "Yes, Dr. McKay – you are alive."

"Hey, buddy," John drawled and moved into Rodney's line of vision. "Looks like you need a bath."

Rodney lifted his head enough to look down at his front legs and dirt encrusted paws. He made a deep gurgle that ended in a disgusted snort and let his head fall back onto Teyla's lap. She grinned. "He said…."

John held up a hand. "No translation needed. I know, I know – asshole."

Rodney snorted wearily and let his eyes drift shut. Not even thirty seconds later a bearish snore burbled out of him.

-oOo-

Five days later….

Rodney watched the ocean disappear as Lorne brought 'Jumper Two over a beach and headed inland to Vancouver's airport. The Major was kind enough to bring them in for this meeting since he had to make a run to Seattle to pick up a couple of scientists from the University of Washington, but they were going to have to take the supply boat back, and he was so not looking forward to that. He was still feeling a little queasy from the bug he caught while he was strung out just before the full moon and decided to hit full force the day after the last night of the full moon, and he just knew he was going to be puking over the side the second they left port. He had some Dramamine in his pocket, but that was just going to be a placebo the way his stomach felt at the moment, but at least the Immodium seemed to be holding….

He glanced up at the only other occupant in the passenger cabin, Zelenka, and thanked God the man had gotten over his kimchi craving. He was actually safe to be around, olfactory speaking, and he could now smell the man's base scent – he had a bit of a shorted out electronics and hot soldering iron smell about him. It made his nose tickle. He rubbed at the balm on his upper lip and released another wave of mint and eucalyptus. That helped.

Sheppard was sitting in the co-pilot's seat, and he could see him and Lorne doing a lot of laughing at the moment. Probably pilot bonding stories. Aerial no-shit-there-I-was tales of heroic landings with no engines or landing gear or something or other.

"Well, it is good to see your surly attitude has remained unscathed by this whole incident," Zelenka said and pushed up his glasses. "You haven't quit scowling since we left Atlantis."

"It's my stomach," Rodney replied with a sneer. "Do you have any idea what this is all about? Because really, I should be in bed. Still."

"For the hundredth time, Rodney – no."

"Well, he's your friend. You should know."

Zelenka sighed. "All I know is that Pavle did not want to send over internet or phone, even though we have best security in the world."

"Huh. Pussy."

"No, wolf."

Rodney sneered again.

It only took a few more minutes to reach the airport, and when Lorne brought the Sikorsky down by the private hanger owned by the conglomerate that ran Atlantis the first thing he saw was a huge black limo idling in front of the closed bay doors.

Sheppard was the first to get out, and he looked pretty ominous himself all in black – black jeans, black boots, black button-up shirt, black leather jacket, dark sunglasses…. Really, he knew the man liked Johnny Cash, but that was taking it just a little too far. He held open the passenger cabin door, and as soon as Rodney and Zelenka were past the rotors he rapped on the cockpit canopy and flashed Lorne a thumbs-up before he, too, was trotting over to the limo.

The down blast from the take-off was still whipping everyone's hair around when the back door of the limo opened and Pavle stepped out. His long pony tail flapped briefly but nothing escaped. He drew his chin back, opened his arms wide, and grinned at Zelenka. "Kolega!"

Rodney rolled his eyes at the cheek kissing thing again.

Pavle looked at Rodney, and thankfully that was all he did. "Dr. McKay – you look well."

Rodney was pale, had bags under his eyes that he could pack a weekend to Vegas in, and hadn't shaved in three days, but he knew what Pavle was getting at. "I feel great," he said, a crooked smirk lighting his face. He hadn't felt Yogi burble or grumble or growl since that last night of the full moon, and quite frankly, when the next full moon came around, he didn't expect to. He no longer had a sentient shadow lurking over his shoulder. No. Now his shadow was his own, albeit a bit darker and heavier feeling, but he was in control, and nothing was going to change that.

Now if he could just quit having the Viking dreams…. Those were odd, especially when the only Vikings he were familiar with were sausages dipped in batter and deep fried.

Rodney watched Pavle narrow his eyes down and regard him. The grin that broke out on the werewolf prince's face even made Rodney grin goofily. "That is very good to hear. Very good." Then he focused past Rodney and his smile was gone in an instant. Rodney looked over his shoulder and saw Sheppard standing there, hands on hips, his mouth drawn into a tight line. All the little hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he casually scooted back the few steps that would take him out of the direct line of fire, because seriously – all his new found little werebear senses were screaming in warning right now. He crossed his arms over his chest and chewed on a thumbnail.

Zelenka also backed up, his gaze going back and forth between the two still men. Correction – princes.

"So," John drawled out rather lazily. "You're Lupis."

"You're Onca," Pavle replied just as nonchalantly.

"Long way from home."

"Same could be said for you."

"Not my home anymore." John shrugged. "You know that."

"Yes. I do." Pavle casually started to walk to his left. John countered. "But you're Patrick's son. Surely you have plans."

John grimaced, his eyebrows rose above his sunglasses, and he shook his head. "No."

Pavle grunted. They continued to circle each other. "I'm surprised they let you live."

"Dear old Dad was feeling magnanimous that day."

"Not very wise of him."

John just shrugged.

Rodney couldn't take it any longer, the alpha pheromones in the air were making him dizzy, and he was really really tired. "Oh, Jesus … would you two just, just hurry up and sniff each other's butts or something? Because really – this is getting stupid." He snapped his fingers. "Chop chop. I'm dying here." Both vargyrs stopped and faced Rodney. "You had information?" he said to Pavle. "So, let's see it so I can ride the Vomit Tugboat back home and sleep!"

Zelenka's mouth hung open and he backed away from Rodney.

John was the first to crack a grin and chuff. He glanced sideways at Pavle and saw the man had his head cocked and looking incredibly amused. He pointed at Rodney. "Is he always this…."

"Lippy?" John supplied. "Yeah."

"I am so sorry."

"Eh, you get used to it."

"Okay, butt sniffing over." Rodney made a gimme motion. "Share."

Pavle was chuckling as he pulled a Blackberry out of the inside pocket of his cashmere overcoat and started keying up an image. "We found some tattoos on the vargyr that bit you, Dr. McKay, and they had my people baffled for the longest time." He turned it around for Rodney. "It took our clan historians awhile to track one of them down."

Rodney took it out of his hands and looked at the image, and John and Zelenka crowded around to see. It was a wrinkly old man's torso, and over his heart was an age faded tat about four inches high of a part man, part bear figure that vaguely resembled an old cave painting done in black and ochre. There were other tattoos as well – intricate woven designs along his collar bones, around his biceps, and one dark unidentifiable blob on a forearm that may have been black at one time but were now a diluted indigo, the lines and details blurred with age. There were some pale blue markings around one eye as well, but it was impossible to tell it was actually a tattoo or not. Could be veins for all Rodney could tell. "What exactly am I looking at besides an old man in need of a bath and moisturizer?"

"Clan markings," John supplied. "The older European clans tend to do that."

Pavle nodded. "And this most certainly qualifies."

"I see an Irish mark, a Norse…." John started but was interrupted.

"You know your clans?"

John gave a one shouldered shrug. "Wasn't my choice." He lifted his sunglasses and peered closer at the image. "I don't recognize the man/bear tat."

"That's because that clan has been extinct for over seven centuries," Pavle said. He took his Blackberry back. "Or so we thought."

"What?" John put his sunglasses back on. "The only extinct clan I know of is Draconis."

"This one is a subclan of Ursus," Pavle replied. "Or, if you look at different histories, the progenitor of Ursus. These vargyrs were cave bears."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Rodney said. "Cave bears?"

"As in Pleistocene, ice age, wooly mammoths, saber tooth cats cave bears?" Zelenka added.

"Yes."

"Well, that explains why you don't look like a regular bear," John said. "Got that blunt muzzle, long front arms, tiny ears…."

Pavle looked genuinely curious. "I would like to see that. But, I digress. This clan was known for its unheard of strength and hired out as mercenaries eager to fight in whatever war they could find. Very aggressive, had reputations as fearsome warriors who wouldn't stop until pretty much hacked to pieces. They ranged mainly across Northern Europe and Russia, and in some of the information the historians found they were even referred to as god bears. I wouldn't be surprised if the Berserkers of Norse history were of this clan. Or imitators."

"Oh, great," Zelenka muttered and rolled his eyes. "God bear. His ego is bad enough as is." He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

"How old was that guy?" Rodney squeaked out, then glared at Zelenka.

Pavle shrugged. "At least seven hundred years. Some vargyr can live over fifteen hundred."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Wererats. Already told us about those." Rodney crossed his arms and seemed to be hugging himself. He suddenly frowned, but it was more in curiosity than consternation, and glanced up at Pavle. "God bear, huh?"

"Here we go," Zelenka mumbled and threw his hands up.

Pavle grinned. "Revered for their size and strength, not for any divine powers."

Rodney's head waggled sheepishly. "Of course. I figured that much out."

John chuffed.

Pavle's grin faded. "You have a very old and powerful spirit within you, Dr. McKay, and you are now the last of the god bears. This is why I could not share this information over the internet."

John rubbed his mouth. "Other clans would like to have a piece of that," he said quietly.

Rodney actually got a bit paler than he already was.

"Is this place you work secure?" Pavle asked.

"Very," all three men replied in unison. "And I will make sure he remains his own … man," John added.

Pavle stared at John, his amber eyes narrowing, his expression calculating but not hostile. John studied him just as intently back, and the silence that stretched between the two started to get uncomfortable. Rodney and Zelenka both jumped when the wolf prince's face split into a grin that showed all four fangs. "I believe you." He held out his hand.

John took it without hesitation. "You know, for a dog, you're not half bad."

"And for a Sheppard, you seem surprisingly reasonable."

John let out a coughing bark of laughter. "Yeah, don't let the family hear that."

Rodney found himself grinning rather goofily – this alpha pheromone thing did have its fun moments. Or maybe he was just loopy from the flu. Didn't matter which, however, just as long as he could still play with the coolest toys on the planet and get the Nobel Prize some day.

"Say, we have quite a few hours to kill before our ride leaves," John drawled. "How does pizza and beer sound?"

"Nasty," Rodney muttered.

"Wonderful!" Pavle replied.

"I know great place down by the waterfront," Zelenka added.

"Then let's go – I have the ride." Pavle opened the back door to the limo and gestured everyone in. John and Rodney crawled in first, and as they settled in the leather seats they heard Pavle say, "By the way, Radek – the strangest thing happened when I open your last e-mail…."

Rodney practically choked, then luckily could disguise it with a coughing fit and drowned out the conversation outside the limo. He saw John raise an eyebrow at him – damn him and his vargyr senses anyway – and he waved him off. "Never mind, I'll, ah, e-mail you later."

Nearly seven hours later Rodney was the only sober one and was having a helluva time herding Sheppard and Zelenka down the pier to their waiting ride. He was grumpy, and beyond tired, and had to make the chauffeur take him to a drug store to get more Immodium, and his back hurt from sleeping in the back of the limo while the terrible trio decided to hit as many disreputable looking bars as possible between the pizza joint and the Atlantis dock, and if he heard one more chorus of "Girls Girls Girls" – in English and Czech simultaneously – he was seriously going to channel his inner god bear and go berserk on a few asses. They were almost to the boat when Zelenka suddenly made the unmistakable glrk of impending drunken sickness and put a hand to his mouth. Sheppard just calmly grabbed the smaller man by the back of his jacket collar, marched him over to the edge of the pier, and just held him out at quite an extreme angle, one handed, so the man could get sick over the water. Rodney had to turn away and plug his ears because, hello, on the verge of doing the same thing himself, and the sound was not helping.

Then he had a sudden stab of jealousy that Zelenka wasn't puking on a were-whatever. Sometimes life was so not fair….

~Finis

End Note: Never thought I'd get to type that last word there. Sheesh. Real life sucks. I want to live in this universe.