This was originally posted to follow directly on from the end of Octopus but for convenience I have now included It's Cold, Plausible Deniability and Octopus in Chapter 1, the same as they are posted everywhere else, as effectively they are all part of this story. If you've already read them, you can simply start reading from the second spacer line.

Comes with apologies and thanks to kimmy4eytj for stuff she already knows about and thanks to CWR for being nice about it! I was tempted to dedicate it to Review Phantom, for the entertainment value of the somewhat homophobic responses recently, but (s)he'll never read it.

Be warned, it's Young/Rush, this means men liking each other and being in the same bed. Deal with it or don't read it.

Young was tired and cold and he couldn't remember why coming to this planet was a good idea, except Destiny had come out of FTL next to it, and Lieutenant Scott was sick. Sick enough to be in the infirmary under TJ's care, too sick to fly the shuttle. So he was here, the only other qualified shuttle pilot, and he had left Camile in charge, supported by TJ.

Damn planet with no stargate, what was the use of seed ships if they weren't putting stargates in the right places? Except he knew that wasn't true and this planet had had a perfectly good stargate before the volcano had rolled over it. And it was the volcano that was the cause of all this vegetation that his scientists were so pleased with, at least three more edible plants and two of them actually didn't taste like crap.

He rolled over and tried to get warm in the blankets, but the ground under him was chilly and he was sure the damp was seeping through the fabric of his blankets and into his bones. The pebbles in the sand under him certainly weren't doing him any good as he wriggled trying to find a more comfortable position. The cave on the edge of the sea may have kept off the rain and wind, but the ground was damned uncomfortable.

Silhouetted in the cave entrance, a few yards away was Greer, his gun across his lap, staring out into the starry night. Next to Young on one side was Volker, between him and Greer and snoring thunderously and so fast asleep a grenade could have gone off. On the other side was Rush, silent and still. He could just hear the breathing of the others, soft in sleep, beyond Rush.

Young longed for a real sleeping bag, but Icarus base had never been set up with the intention of any quantity of off planet missions, and tents and the like were not included in what they had brought here with them. Maybe that's what he would suggest next to the mixed group of crew who met in the mess once a week to plan out craft projects. They certainly had made a good enough job of knitting socks, once the two who could had taught the rest. He wiggled his toes in the mystery-mammal-wool socks and realised that his feet were one of the few parts of him not freezing, even though he was fully dressed. Woollen sweaters, he dreamt of a nice woollen sweater or cardigan even, something fuzzy and warm. With a sigh he rolled over and tried to wrap himself tighter in the blanket. Anything warm.

"Will you please shut up." Rush whispered.

"I didn't realise you were awake." He whispered back.

"Point of fact I wasn't until you started shifting around every five seconds."

The man's voice was sleepy and irritable, his accent coming through stronger in his drowsy state.

"Sorry." He apologised. Though he didn't want to apologise, he had woken the man up, which counted for something and then he shifted again.

"What's actually wrong?" Rush asked.

"Cold, it's making my joints ache."

"You're too young to have bad joints."

Rush rolled over finally, facing away from him and Young thought it was really too much to expect any sympathy from the asshole. Why should the man break the habit of a lifetime? He shifted one more time and tried to find a position comfortable enough he could tune out the discomfort and finally go to sleep. It' wasn't easy, his lower back ached and his right knee and he knew exactly which former injuries those stemmed from, one on Earth, one off world. He shifted again, flexing his stiff knee and Rush rolled back over to him.

"For Christ's sake Young it can't be that bad."

"Got my knee broken eight years ago." He said, feeling the need to explain why he was this uncontrolled and restless. "It doesn't like the cold."

"Fine." Said Rush in an undertone. "Am I ever going to get any sleep? If you warm up will you stop wriggling about?"

He was surprised as Rush rolled closer then reached out and untucked Young's blanket, yanking the side that was tucked under him closer to the other man, so they were side by side, and folding the top of his own blanket over both of them, and Young's blanket on top of that so there were two layers.

"Pull this under you." Rush ordered in a harsh whisper, and Young did as he was told, more out of shock than anything else.

They ended up tucked in, two layers of blanket underneath them, two above them, and Young could already feel the other man's body heat radiating towards him.

"Bloody freezing on this planet." Rush whispered. "You'd better not kick in your sleep Young."

Rush settled sleepily back, rolling so his back was up against Young, and Young brought his arms up to his chest and turned his face into the warmth emanating from the other man.

"Go to sleep." Said Rush sourly.

And as he finally began to warm up, Young did.

Young woke with a start that made all his muscles twitch. There was an answering sleepy groan from behind him that automatically caused him to tense. It came again, an unexpected and unfamiliar tenor note.

There was an arm round him, close around his waist and pressed firmly against his stomach and he could feel someone's breath warming the back of his neck. The cocoon of blankets around them was snug and warm and pulled up around his chin.

And with that thought, memory came back in a flurry of thoughts, the cave, the discomfort of his aching leg and back, cold floor, Rush bitching at him in the middle of the night about his tossing and turning and finally wrapping them both in the blankets and deliberately turning his back on Young.

That obviously hadn't lasted, and evidently Young himself didn't kick or wriggle in his sleep enough to disturb the other man. Lucky really as this would be really awkward if Rush was awake. Young forced his muscles to relax, one by one from his wool sock clad feet upward.

Truthfully he hadn't been this warm in some time. Destiny wasn't usually cold, but the ship was a wreck frankly and his quarters had a distressing tendency of randomly losing heat. He'd lost count of the times the chill had woken him in the night. He'd even acquired extra bedding to mitigate the effects. He supposed he really ought to just change his quarters like everyone else who'd had issues with where they'd originally settled, but he liked the space he had, and particularly his desk. He didn't want to change, he just wanted it to be warmer.

The cave was still dark and cold and he could hear rain outside as well as the sound of the surf. He only realised what had woken him when Vanessa James started to talk to Greer. Must be a watch changeover.

"Now that's something I never thought I'd see." She said in a quiet voice, laden with amusement.

Young heard Greer chuckle.

"The Colonel's got some old injuries he don't let on about. Was having some difficulties," Greer stressed the word, "with the cold. You shoulda heard Rush bitching at him for keeping him awake."

Damn, he thought they'd been quiet.

"Trust me," continued Greer, "it's self interest on both sides."

They both laughed quietly.

"Still," James added, "you have to admit they look quite cute like that."

Cute? Thought Young. There's something deeply wrong about that statement, and there would be repercussions if this was ever brought up later. There was a short silence before Greer spoke.

"Personally I'd have called it accidental nightmare fuel, Lieutenant."

It was James' turn to chuckle.

"Maybe it's a girl thing?"

"You're a girl Lieutenant?"

Greer's response made them both laugh again.

"Well, you've got your turn to chance it with the nightmares."

"Wake them first of all." Greer told her.

"Of course. Accidentally." She replied.

"Night James."

"Night."

He heard Greer make his quiet way to the back of the cave and settle. James settled into her guard post at the front of the cave. Young began to relax again. Rush lay still behind him, breathing softly. Young could feel the slight press of the man's chest against his back, the slight shift of his arm as he breathed, slow and steady.

It had been a long time since Young had shared a bed or blankets with anyone. Emily, TJ on Icarus, various members of his old team on various planets due to weather, lack of space or facilities. All some significant time ago.

He and TJ had come close, had spent the last year or more orbiting each other, neither of them quite brave enough to make that step over the invisible wall of pain and misunderstanding they had managed to build between them. Young resolved to talk to her when he got back to the ship. Just a chat, open the channels of communication, whatever happened would happen, but at least they'd be talking on a personal rather than professional basis again.

Rush snuffled briefly into his neck and murmured, deep in a dream. The man's arm tightened briefly round Young and his legs shifted. Young found himself settling back more securely against the other man's body. His muscles tensed involuntarily, but as the hand on his stomach flexed gently, and a knee came up to rest against his ass and legs he found himself relaxing back into the embrace. Rush made a low sound, almost, but not quite, a snore and buried his face in the back of Young's shoulder.

It had been an even longer time since anyone had just held him, not violently, not sexually, not needing anything, with no ulterior motive. The ironic thought that after all their disagreements, violence, mutual hatred, trying to kill each other, it was Rush inadvertently providing this comfort was not lost on him. He wondered how Rush would react when he woke. Almost certainly not well. Still it was Rush's fault not his. He wasn't the one on the outside.

Fuck Rush. It was warm, he was comfortable and he had plausible deniability. Young gave up on thinking, relaxed and left himself drift, he'd worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

Rush woke with the dawn. He could hear the sea shore creatures they had seen yesterday beginning to make the odd yammering noise they had made as the sun had gone down yesterday. He was warm and comfortable and relaxed in a kind of lazy way he hadn't been for a long time. Half asleep still, he was only vaguely registering the source of the warmth. He opened his eyes fully to see a curling shock of dark hair liberally sprinkled with grey directly in front of his nose.

Damn.

The man in his arms was breathing deeply and gently in sleep, body tucked up against Rush's chest, arm wrapped over Rush's arm which encircled him. Rush's other arm was pillowed under his own head, but Young had scooted down the bedding a little and his head was tucked into Rush's neck, almost completely under the covers and their legs were tangled.

The covers were tucked up tightly around them still, but when he lifted his head cautiously to look over Young's head towards the front of the cave he could see the back of Lieutenant Vanessa James, gun in hand, staring out into the faint gathering dawn. Which meant the shift had changed. Which meant someone had walked past them. Which meant that no doubt someone had seen him curled up in a blanket with Young.

Shit.

He tensed uncomfortably. He should never have offered this last night. This was a really stupid idea. He would have been better off just giving up on sleep entirely for the night. Young shifted in his arms, making a grumbling noise and tucking his head further into Rush's chest, arm flexing around Rush. He felt movement by his neck and realised Young's fingers were tangled in his hair by his collar.

Oh great.

There was going to be no way of getting out of this one without major embarrassment. There was something slightly childlike in Young's position, hiding himself under the covers, folded into Rush's chest and embrace. Rush could just see how Young was going to react to that one. He knew how he was reacting to that one himself.

Young moved slightly and muttered unhappily, Rush's arm tightened around him reflexively and he looked down, almost expecting to see Young looking at him, but he was talking in his sleep. Apparently the man was dreaming, though whatever it was it wasn't an entirely pleasant dream, as he seemed to be pleading with someone. It was hard to make out the words Young was mumbling into Rush's chest, but the pained tone was unmistakeable. Rush sighed and as he relaxed, the other man burrowed into his chest with a wounded noise.

This was just great. Young's legs flexed and Rush tried to extricate himself as the man shifted, but failed signally. The man twitched and muttered, begging someone in his dream again and Rush caught a word here and there, No, Please, Help, Don't. Pretty typical nightmare fodder. He felt the man twitch as if he was struggling in his sleep, his mumbles becoming louder.

Fuck.

If Young woke everyone else…Rush grimaced as Young's voice became clearer for a moment. Don't go! Rush's arm tensed around the man feeling fingers twisting in his hair, pressing into his neck. Tentatively he rubbed his hand up the man's back. Come on Young, shut up and stop dreaming. Fingers tensed in his shirt, mumbling and pleading. Rush rubbed up and down Young's back another couple of times. Young twitched, still mumbling, face pressed into Rush's collar.

Why the hell had Rush given into his own discomfort at the freezing cold and damp on this appalling planet and offered to get into bed with Young. It had been guaranteed to end up in a bad way. And it had.

He rubbed slow firm circles on the other man's back. It seemed to be working, Young had stopped talking in his sleep and seemed to be settling. Now all he had to do was find some way of extricating himself from the clinging octopus that was Colonel Everett Young.

At the front of the cave, Lieutenant James stood and turned to face the cave.

Fucking stupid fucking cold fucking embarrassing planet.

She looked over and, to his chagrin met his eyes. She shook her head ruefully, then put her finger to her lips, pointing down at the bundle of Colonel in the blankets in front of him and miming shaking him awake. Rush frowned. Vanessa turned her back deliberately.

He slid the arm from under his head, and tensing the arm round Young, slid the hand down carefully between them to cover Young's mouth. Still holding Young into his chest, he shook Young by the shoulder with the arm wrapped round his back.

Young tensed, and tried to speak through the hand over his mouth. Rush used the hand over Young's mouth to tilt his face back and their eyes met. Rush saw Young's dawning realisation of where he was. He took his hand away from Young's mouth.

"You're a fucking octopus in your sleep." He hissed at Young.

Their faces were inches apart.

"Me?" Young whispered in irritation. "You're the one with your arm round me."

Rush chose not to respond to that, the reverse was also true anyway.

"Lieutenant James wants us to wake up. I'm assuming she's trying to protect your reputation." Rush whispered back sourly. "We need to get out of here quietly and without waking anyone. Volker is about six inches behind you."

He straightened his legs, sliding his knee from between Young's thighs and they rolled apart but Rush kept hold of Young. Young gave him a funny look.

"If I let you go you'll land on Volker." Rush hissed. "The man sleeps like the dead, but not that much."

They both scooted away from Volker and slid arms out from the blankets. It was freezing out there and Rush shivered reflexively, his body shuddering momentarily against Young's. Young looked at him and grinned.

"Not so bad in here then." He muttered.

"The company could be better." Rush scowled.

"Face it; you'd never have slept in that cold."

"Would still have been preferable."

"Liar."

Rush reached out carefully for his jacket and pulled it into the blankets in between them to warm it up a moment, moving deliberately calmly and casually. After a few seconds he slid out of the blankets. He squatted at the head of the blankets, straightening his clothes. Young regarded him from the blankets a moment.

"You must have been even colder than me." He whispered. "There's nothing of you."

"Shut up." Rush pulled the jacket on.

"Is it so bad admitting you need things from other people too?"

"When it's you it is."

Young snorted.

"Who else would you ask?" He asked Rush, who was dragging his fingers though his hair, combing out the tangles at the back of his neck. "Eli."

Rush gave him a look of disdain.

"Greer?"

Disbelief.

"Volker?"

Disgust.

"I rest my case." Said Young. "At least you know I'll stay quiet about it."

"You're a fucking octopus, all hands and limbs, and you twitch and talk in your sleep."

"You were the one who woke me up in the middle of the night spooning." Young countered.

Rush gave him a disbelieving look.

"Hey, would I make up accidental nightmare fuel like that?" Young shamelessly stole Greer's phrase of earlier in the night.

Vanessa James leaned over them.

"Eli's waking up." She said quietly, face warm with amusement. "You better stop arguing. Just sleep at the back of the cave out of sight tonight, okay?"

They both glared at her. She grinned and walked back to the front of the cave to build the fire up for breakfast.

Rush finished his watch and woke Greer quietly, trying not to step on anyone in the night-dark cave.

"Your watch." He said.

"'Kay." Greer rubbed his eyes and slid out of his blankets, taking the gun from Rush.

Rush looked down and shivered, now he was not sitting with his back to the fire he was getting cold and stiff fast. A day of hard physical labour followed by four hours of immobility in the cold had left him bone weary, physically exhausted with deep penetrating muscle aches.

The fire had burned low at the front of the cave and in the faint light he could see sleeping bodies through the cave. Light reflected weakly on a pair of eyes watching him from the back of the cave. Rush sighed, stepped over Vanessa James and stood looking down at Young, in a double nest of blankets, his blankets as well as Young's own. Young lifted the edge of the blankets.

"Don't be goddamned stupid." Muttered Young at him. "I can see you shivering from here."

"Fucking shut up Young." Rush replied in a harsh whisper and slid into the blankets next to him. He almost collapsed into the warmth Young had already built up in the blankets. "And keep your hands to yourself."

He rolled stiffly to face away from Young, trying not to make a noise as tight muscles protested at the change of position. There was silence behind him. They were only inches apart and he lay there, trying to find a comfortable position where he wouldn't roll into Young accidentally, his muscles still complaining at the continued work. He felt Young pull the covers up and pull them in tight to close the gaps and keep out the cold, then flinched as a hand touched his back.

"Relax, I'm not…" There was a pause. "Damn….your back's practically gone into spasm."

"Fuck off."

Fingers started to work at the muscles across his shoulder blades. Rush tensed against the intrusion into his personal space then as the fingertips dug into a particularly painful patch, releasing a knot of muscle he groaned quietly and relaxed a little.

"Why are you doing this?" He demanded in a sharp hiss.

There was a brief change in the position of Young's hands, which Rush's mind interpreted as the feeling of a shrug, translated down Young's arms to his hands.

"Good deed for the day?" Muttered Young. "The fact that I can empathise with back pain and that must be really damn painful. The fact that you'll be tossing and turning for hours otherwise."

"Forgive me if having your hands on me doesn't fill me with confidence."

Young's fingers worked down the muscles either side of Rush's spine then back up again to work the muscles in his shoulders. The touch wasn't deliberately intrusive or sensual, but was deliberate and matter-of-fact. Despite his automatic reaction to Young touching him though, Rush found himself struggling not to curl into the touch as abused muscles warmed and relaxed under Young's fingers and some of the pain retreated.

The warmth, his exhaustion and the lack of pain began seduce him into sleep, Young's hands finished working his back and the last thing he was aware of was rolling over and pulling the covers over his head against the cold before sleep claimed him.

Young wasn't entirely sure what he was doing but as soon as his hand had hit Rush's back he'd felt the rock hard tension in the man's back. He'd only intended to get the man's attention, to tell him to relax, but as Rush had shifted under his hand and the muscle under Young's fingers had moved not one jot he'd pressed his fingers in to the rigid muscle and manipulated the knot he'd found until it released. As the small area within the general tension had softened a little under his fingers Rush had groaned, a note so quiet and deep in his chest that Young had felt it through his hands more than heard it. Rush had bitched, as Rush did every time anyone did anything to him that wasn't abusive or aggressive, but Young had ignored him.

And memory had taken over, facilitating the practiced moves of his hands, working out the tensions in the other man's back. This he had done before many times. Gault, one of the geeks he'd had on his gate team had a habit of hunching over things she'd been studying and they'd all got practiced at getting her moving again once she'd stiffened up in the evenings and returned the favour to each other. Sawyer, a great guy with some medic training had had magic fingers he recalled.

God, sometimes it seemed he'd been in command so long he'd lost all sense of the camaraderie of being part of a team. He missed his team. Really missed them. Ingram had his own team and was married, Lomas had made it off Icarus and Gault was in research now after a shot in the hip had invalided her out of a gate team. But she was happy, had settled down with Raj in the end, one of the guys who'd cycled through his team briefly, and was working at Area 51. He remembered Raj well, they'd all called him by the diminutive of his first name as his last name was too damn long to yell in combat. Sawyer was dead, he'd held Sawyer as he bled out under the too pale sun of another planet as weapons fire sailed over their heads where they were hidden behind a rock, poor bastard. All of them a universe away.

He ran his hands over Rush's back, checking his work automatically, but the muscles were relaxed and warm and as he took his hands away, Rush rolled towards him, pulling the covers up over his head and settling with his hand against Young's chest, apparently asleep.

Young only realised he was crying when the breath caught in his throat. He wiped his face with a hand which came away wet. He had no idea why this was hitting him here and now, but the sense of loss was like a stone in his chest. Rush's hand flexed against the front of his shirt and Young tried to slow his breathing, stay silent and still. He could still feel the tears streaming down his face, but it was too dark for anyone to see that. He reached out and put his hand on Rush's arm, needing to feel someone's presence.

Rush shifted in his sleep and moved closer and almost without thinking Young gathered him in, resting his cheek on the other man's head, trying to stifle the involuntary movements of his chest, trying not to hold on too tight, but Rush just shifted a couple of times, put a hand on Young's hip and settled in his sleep with a deep sigh.

Young forced his muscles to relax, took a couple of deep breaths and arms loosely wrapped around the other man, just hung on, not letting go, feeling the tears roll down his face.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, some time, but when it came, Rush's voice startled him.

"Not that it's an infrequent occurrence," murmured Rush ironically, "but I normally have to talk to people to make them cry."

Young jumped and froze. There was a long pause.

"Old memories." Young whispered eventually.

"Bad ones?"

"Some." Young paused. "Sorry."

Rush shifted his shoulders and Young let go of him abruptly, They both rolled back to lay on their backs, though Young's arm still lay outstretched beneath Rush's head. They lay there in silence.

"You been awake long?"

"Not really." Rush said. Young felt his head turn towards him but didn't meet the man's gaze. "Want to talk about it?"

Not the question he had been anticipating. Damn Rush was just keeping him off balance tonight.

"Not sure if I can explain it." Young felt extremely exposed. "Nostalgia maybe."

"You don't have to tell me, it's not as if you owe me any confidences." Rush said.

There was a hint of challenge in the whisper. Young frowned.

"Okay," he said, a little testily, "I was thinking about my old gate team."

"What happened to them?"

"Nothing, mainly."

There was an expectant silence from the other man.

"They're just a long way away, and a long time ago."

"You miss them? Or what they represent?"

Damn, throwing him every time. Young constantly struggled to stay ahead or at least keep up with him.

"I bet you were a smart kid." Young said with some irritation.

Rush laughed mirthlessly.

"I was a savage little git." He said quietly. "Off the rails, out of control, always in trouble, never home. I missed so much school it was unreal."

Young pulled his head back to stare at Rush in surprise.

"What you were doing?" Young asked him curiously.

Rush shrugged.

"Shopliftin', fightin', setting fire to things, smashin' things up. The usual. Hangin' out wi' the big lads, Stoppin' out all night."

Young realised Rush was staring away out at the ceiling and his voice had dropped from his usual gentle accent into something stronger.

"What happened?" He asked.

Rush turned to look at him again and Young felt him put his hand to his stomach.

"I got stabbed, knifed."

"As a teenager?" Young couldn't work out any timeline on this, he knew Rush had been to university, Oxford, must have studied hard.

Rush gave a bitter laugh.

"Eleven." He said. "Four foot nothin', four and a half stone, what's that, sixty or seventy pounds if that?"

Young stared at him through the dimness. He was a soldier, he'd been stabbed himself and the idea of a small boy being stabbed was almost inconceivable.

"Was it bad?" Young asked quietly.

There was a long pause. Young could hear Rush breathing into the darkness. Suddenly Rush shifted slightly. Young started as Rush took hold of his hand, drawing it down. There was another slight shift of weight, a pull of fabric.

Rush's skin was surprisingly hot under his hand as Rush slid it across his abdomen towards his left hip. Just inside and above his left hip was a twisted lump of scar tissue. It fitted into the hollow of Young's palm, broad and flattened.

"Damn Rush, I thought you said you were knifed. What the hell were you stabbed with?"

"Snapped off pool cue."

Rush slid Young's hand up, leading his fingers to a less perceptible narrow slice of scar, a smooth run of skin across his lower ribs.

"Stanley knife, one of those heavy craft knives with the extendible blades you snap off when they get blunt." Rush took a breath. "The pool cue was 'cause I was trying to bottle the lad wi' the knife."

Young slid his hand out from under Rush's hand back to the knot of scar tissue on his hip.

"Pool cue."

"Well, snooker cue, same difference."

Young ran his fingers over the scar, rubbed his thumb back and forth over it. Rush's breath hitched.

"What happened?"

Rush shrugged.

"Street fight. Us and another group o' not so little bastards. I was the skinny little tagalong, easy target."

"How old was the other boy."

"Sixteen, eighteen maybe."

Young's thumb circled the scar. He still was having trouble getting his head round a boy of eleven being stabbed with a snapped off pool cue.

"You went to hospital?"

"For quite a while."

"And you decided to change your life. Get educated."

"I met someone in hospital who convinced me I had other options. Showed me something I wanted and showed me how I could get it. Good advice, I've always been able to find a way to be what I needed to get what I wanted."

Rush's hand slid back down to Young's, Young went to move his hand away, but Rush's hand covered his, pressing it against the scar and Young could see he was staring away into the darkness again, as if he wasn't entirely in the here and now.

"It must have hurt."

"Fucking excruciating."

"Where were your parents?"

"Working mostly. Too many kids, too little cash, too little time." Rush let go suddenly and Young drew his hand away, the touch suddenly too much. Rush looked directly at him. "That scar made me the man I am."

Another bitter laugh.

"That is fucked up, Rush."

Rush shrugged.

"And what do you want to be now."

"A survivor."

Young paused.

"And what do you need to be for that."

Rush's accent was pure Glasgow as he spoke.

"Jest tougher then you."

It was like a kick in the guts.

"You really think I'm going to hurt you?"

"Wouldn' be the first time."

That was a low blow. Young stared at Rush, but he was looking away, deliberately not meeting Young's eyes.

"It's been a long time since one of us tried to kill the other." Young said.

Rush muttered something that Young strained to hear, maybe something about being ripped apart.

"You want to explain that?" He demanded of Rush, voice raising a little.

"Hush!" Rush said. "And no, not really."

They lay there in uncomfortable silence, waiting for sleep to arrive which it eventually did.

Greer woke them in the morning. There was no time for any discussion, Eli and Volker were already stirring, low voices talking between the heaps of blankets at the front of the cave.

Greer woke James and the two of them sat there talking in front of Young and Rush as they slid quickly out of their blankets.

"You should give that pair a bloody promotion." Rush muttered at Young as he pulled his jacket on.

"I'm coming to that conclusion myself." Young replied quietly, as he peered round the edge of Greer's shoulder.

Eli and Volker however were oblivious, deep in discussion about something, gradually waking the rest of the party and the whole party were quickly back on the move to harvest more of anything they could lay their hands on.

Young found himself working shoulder to shoulder with Rush for most of the day, but nothing was said, and when the time ran out, and he found himself back in the familiar confines of the shuttle, starting the take off sequence, it almost seemed like nothing had ever happened. He took one last look at the volcano and the sea and took off. He had a vague sensation of loss as the sea disappeared away beneath him, clouds hiding the blue water , but the demands of piloting the shuttle forced his mind away from any other concerns.

Young had only two days on this ship before his scheduled shore leave via the stones. It was a small mercy really, he and Rush avoided each other even more than usual, and when they were in the same room seem to have brokered an uneasy truce.

Only Greer and James appeared to have noticed any difference though, for obvious reasons and on different occasions they both intervened to distract either himself or Rush. He only realised they were doing it on the second day, but he was grateful. Greer seriously deserved some sort of medal and James also seemed to be raising her game well on the people management stakes. Good, god knows he needed officers with people management skills here, even If it was managing Young himself. And Rush.

They had barely talked. After a night of extended confidences and close proximity Young felt emotionally raw in Rush's presence and even less able to cope with him than usual. He found himself leaving the room shortly after the other man arrived and answers had mostly dropped into the monosyllabic.

He looked up as Rush walked into the mess at breakfast.

"Bridge?" He asked.

There was no hesitation in Rush's response to the rather vague question.

"Brody and Lieutenant Scott."

Young realised the fact that the questions were dropping into the monosyllabic too was far more uncomfortable, as was the fact Rush had answered correctly.

Young nodded his response, looking away immediately. He scraped the last of the food from his bowl and stood. He needed to check in with Lieutenant Scoot and Camile before he went on leave anyway.

His leave was giving him mixed feelings. He was very glad to be getting away from Rush, but less enthused at the prospect of visiting Earth. He stole Scott from the bridge and spent half and hour giving him a formal handover, spoke to Camile for half an hour and went to the stones room.

He took a deep breath and put the stone on the plate.

The three hour standard debrief with General O'Neill, Telford and a bunch of other inter-changeable officers and IOA members was almost a mercy, stopping him having to think about what he was going to do next. It was over all too soon, and this was possibly the only time he would ever want one of those to go on any longer. He stood in the hallway with one of the sergeants detailed to support them on their leave and wondered what the hell he was going to do.

No family to visit, no Emily. He'd signed the house over to her, and everything he hadn't just left with her he'd had stored. Nowhere to go, no place to be, no one to see. He turned to the sergeant.

"Can I get a car? And access to some of my cash."

He picked a good hotel at random, one off the main streets and checked in. The evening loomed large, but he ordered food and rented movies in his room, there were enough he hadn't seen before for god's sake. Sleep caught up with him half way through the final action sequence of a mediocre blockbuster.

He dreamed of the sea, waves washing on the shore. No real pictures just the sound of the sea and animals yammering on the shoreline. The dream seemed so real so near, the sounds, the smell of the sea and the light musk scent of hair. He woke in the semi dark, the sound of waves on the shore fading out as consciousness faded in.

The television was the only light in the room, the movie over and the television having gone back to the movie ordering menu. Young sat looking at the clock. It was 3am. The room was suddenly too small, too unfamiliar, the smell of cleaning products, laundry cleaner and last night's dinner too overwhelming. He stood, pulling on his pants, quickly folding the few things he had unpacked and putting them back in the bag. The television was turned off, a final check that he hadn't left anything and he grabbed the bag and walked out.

He walked out of the elevator and into reception.

"Hi, I'm sorry, I have to check out."

He handed over the credit card, added a tip and signed the slip.

"Thanks. I had a good stay." He lied and walked out.

The car was waiting in the parking garage and he got in, threw the bag in the back and drove.

He drove through the darkness until he reached the sea, driving around till he found a road which dropped down to the shore. By the time he pulled up in a small parking lot by the shore the sky was beginning to lighten with the first glow of dawn. He opened the car window, put his seat back, wrapped his coat round him, curled up in the driver's seat and went to sleep.

A tapping on the window woke him an hour or so later. A police officer was staring in at him. He wound down the window.

"You can't sleep here."

"I'm sorry." He said showing his body's ID. "I'm on leave, I was driving and realised I was too tired to drive safely and pulled up to have a nap."

The police officer seemed somewhat mollified.

"Okay, well, you really ought to find a hotel."

"Can you recommend one, something nice, on the shore? I've got a little money to spend." Young said, deliberately bland, deliberately vague.

The police officer was evidently local as Young came out of the conversation with a selection of hotels to choose from and a variety of good places to eat and visit. The guy had made a few notes as he talked and handed Young a sheet of paper from his notepad. Young thanked him, looked at it and chose a diner at random.

Some time later with a hot breakfast and two or three cups of coffee in him, he got back in the car and found one of the hotels. He had interrogated the waitress in the diner and picked the one that was closest to the shore. It was an old white building, large and sprawling and as he walked in the front door, a large dog wandered up to him.

The man behind the desk looked up and smiled and Young booked a room on the back of the building with a balcony looking out onto the shore. He took the key, a real key not an electronic tag, and walked up to the room. Inside he threw open the doors to the balcony, took off his shoes and slid into the bed fully dressed. He fell asleep again to the sound of the sea.

He spent two restless days wandering round the area, spending time sitting on the veranda with the dog, eating in whichever of the different restaurants as appealed and wasting time. The sole consolation was the amount of sleep he was getting, doors open, waves lulling him into sleep. In his dreams Destiny waited, familiar and safe, with the sounds of waves on the shore floating over.

He drove back to Homeworld Command and handed in the car and bag. As he walked back towards the stones room with the sergeant he could feel his breath speeding up and it was terrifying him how much he wanted to be back on Destiny. There was nothing he wanted to be here for. His hands shook as he took the stone from the plate…and was back on Destiny.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the faint metallic scent that underlay everything else on Destiny. Baras finished a sentence Young hadn't heard him start and looked at him as he stood from the chair.

"Colonel."

Baras handed him his radio. Young nodded and took the radio.

He went and found Scott and had the usual handover discussion. There wasn't much to discuss, but he spun out the conversation, and spent a bit of time giving Scott a bit of advice towards developing his leadership skills. Scott sucked it all up like a sponge, and seemed to appreciate the time spent.

Young felt like he was floating through the day, not quite connected to the world. Dinner was terrible, though dinner was always terrible, but Young was still feeling completely unbalanced by his own reactions to returning and barely noticed. He went to his quarters, finished a series of bits of paperwork on a laptop, and sat there, trying not to think. There was a flask of Brody's worst on the table. Young stared at it from the other side of the room, the promise of not having to think, alcohol induced oblivion, tempting him. He didn't trust himself to go any closer to it.

He needed to do something to stop the thoughts turning over and over in his brain. He stripped out of his shirt to his t-shirt, grabbed a bottle of water and leaving the room, took off at a jog. It wasn't hard to find unobserved areas of Destiny to run through and he ran until the breath came hard in his chest and his bad knee ached fiercely, until he was so tired he was stumbling over his own feet.

He slowed to a walk and started to make his way back towards the inhabited areas limping slightly. He hit the showers, washing off the sweat and muck. Cleaner but with a distinct limp he wandered through the inhabited areas of Destiny, running his hands over bulkheads, looking over rooms and wondering what the hell he was doing and when the hell this had become more home than Earth.

The ship was deserted. It was gone midnight and all sane members of the crew were in their beds. Except Rush, of course. The man looked up from where he was sitting as Young took a couple of halting steps into the core room

"Just looking about." Young said, turning to leave.

"Colonel?" Rush said.

Young paused mid turn.

"Nothing serious, just catching up after leave." He said taking a couple of steps.

"You're limping." Rush said.

"Twisted my knee running."

"Foolish." Rush told him.

"If I wanted your opinion, I'd have asked for it." Young snapped.

"You rarely want my opinion." Rush suggested sardonically.

Young left the room without responding, but paused outside the room to lean on the wall. He'd really done too much on his knee and it throbbed. He waited for the pain to subside a little.

"You're in pain." Rush's voice was close behind him.

He turned his head,

"I'll be fine, I just need to rest it."

"What did you really do to it?" Rush asked.

"Running." Young said. "Actually running. Just too much."

He started to walk again, and Rush paced him, not talking just walking, leaving Young silently at the door of his quarters. Young sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor.

Sleep did not come easily and he ghosted through the following two days on autopilot, limping, overtired and trying not to snap at all who crossed his path. Both Eli and Brody caught the raw edge of his tongue and a stand up row with Camile over something trivial did nothing to improve his mood or hers. He retreated to his quarters with the full expectation of another restless night.

Rush was sitting on the edge of his bed waiting, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands. He looked up at Young through the curtain of hair.

"What the hell do you want?"

Rush looked at him.

"I don't know what your major problem is Colonel, but you need to sort it out."

Young stared at him.

"What it is is none of your business."

Rush scowled at him.

"It is totally my business when it affects how you interact with the crew and my science team. You look like shit and your behaviour is out of order. Are you even sleeping?"

Young stared at him.

"That's rich coming from you."

"I don't act like you do on that little sleep." Rush said. "Get in the fucking bed Young, get some sleep."

"What makes you think you can come in here and do this?" Young demanded.

"Well you won't accept it from anyone else, you've already reduced Camile to tears, congratulations on that by the way, and your soldiers are all too scared to ask." He flipped his hair back off his face. "I've seen the worst you can do already."

Young took two long steps towards Rush and grabbed him. Rush didn't react just stood there.

"What are you going to do Colonel?" he asked. "Beat me up? That's going to get you a long way, not to mention the reactions it'll get from everyone else."

Young stared at him, hands fisted in the front of Rush's shirt.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Young?" Rush demanded. "What the fuck happened on your leave?"

Young looked at him.

"Oh it's no great leap of deduction to see that it has to be something from Earth." Rush continued.

Young let go of him abruptly, and Rush fell back down onto the edge of the bed. He sat there, looking up at Young.

"Nothing happened." Young said furiously. "Absolutely nothing, for three days. Had no one to see, nowhere to be and I did nothing except stare at the damn sea and sleep. And I was so damn glad to get back to Destiny I almost couldn't get the damn stone off the plate. I was even dreaming about this place."

Young sat down on the edge of the bed.

"The sea?" Rush asked.

"It seemed right at the time." Young said shortly.

Rush looked at him and laughed, a short sour note of mirth. Young rounded on him.

"What the hell is so funny?"

Rush stood.

"No doubt you'll come and find me when you figure it out Colonel. Get some sleep."

He walked out. Young watched as the door hissed closed behind him.

He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, he obviously hadn't followed Rush's line of thought but he was so damn tired his brain was turning over the same thoughts repeatedly without making any sense of their meaning.

Finally, still making no sense of the conversation he stood, walked out and went to find Rush. He wasn't in the core room, or the bridge and Young finally went to his quarters, palming the door release and walking in. Rush was in bed, laying on his side and blinking at Young in the light from the doorway.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Rush asked him.

"No."

"Sit down." Rush gestured at the edge of the bed.

Young looked at him then closed the door walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

Rush pulled the covers out from under him.

"Get in." He said quietly.

Young stared at him, sleep deprived mind confused and failing to process.

"You are not functioning." Rush said flatly. "Now, I can either deal with your problem here, or I can try and intervene out there to stop you fucking up things even worse than you are already. This option, though more than a little fucked up, involves less bloodshed. Get in."

Rush reached out and pulled him down. Young let himself be pulled into the bed. Rush folded the covers over him.

"Go to sleep Young."

He lay there, on his back for a moment, trying to process his thoughts. Rush lay on his side, looking at Young.

"You're thinking too loudly" Rush said putting a hand on his shoulder.

Young's gave up and he rolled towards Rush, pushing out his hand to rest on Rush's arm, staring at him. Rush's breath was a steady quiet wash of sound, in and out, constant. The bed was warm and he was tired. He felt his eyes drooping and slid in a little closer. Rush sighed and threw an arm over him. Sleep arrived.

Rush looked at the man now sleeping under his arm, contemplating the idiocy of this course of action. He had considered confronting Young earlier, but couldn't see any better outcome than a further blazing row similar to the one Young had had with Camile. He'd exaggerated Camile's reaction a little, she'd been in tears, but mainly in frustration and irritation rather than being upset.

The outcome of a blazing row between himself and Young was liable to be somewhat more volatile as well. But he couldn't see any other course of action, there wasn't anyone else he could manipulate into a position to address Young's behaviour, and considering recent history he had guessed he at least had a chance of getting some sort of response out of the man if he confronted him in private.

The sea. Fuck.

And that he hadn't expected, but it was immediately apparent the way Young's mind was working, or failing to work. Every action begets reactions. It was almost unbelievable the way that one act of charity had cascaded to such a previously inconceivable set of situations.

And he'd realised with that one statement from Young that this was the only way it was going to happen, the only way to find a temporary resolution to Young's disintegrating behaviour. He was damned if he was going to offer though. Young could damn well come to him.

Fingers flexed against his arm and Rush tucked the other arm a little further around Young. Young's arm slid round Rush's waist, pulling him in. For a moment, Rush tensed, but then he gave up, relaxed and let the sleeping man wrap round him. Bloody octopus. Bloody warm octopus though.

He quit thinking, tucked his head into Young's neck and let himself go to sleep.

Young woke. Warm skin under his hand, warm breath drifting over his throat. The sudden realisation of where he was arrived. Rush's quarters. On Destiny. Damn he had to stop waking up like this. One arm was under Rush's neck, the other wrapped round his back, and somehow he had managed to slide his hand up the back of Rush's shirt so it rested on the bare skin of Rush's back. His leg was thrown over Rush's and he couldn't have been any more wrapped around the smaller man. Rush for his part had one hand on Young's chest and the other arm wrapped around Young's waist. He let out the breath he suddenly realised he'd been holding. At least there was no way of mistaking where he was here.

He had slept, the dog tired, disconnected feeling of the previous days was gone. He still felt he could go back to sleep again, doze in the warmth of the bed, but he had no idea what time it was. Where was his radio? Was anyone looking for him? No, because Rush's radio would have woken them both. He wanted to look at the time, but his arm was under Rush and he really didn't want to wake the other man. Definitely didn't want to have the inevitable conversation.

He realised he was rubbing his thumb back and forth across the skin of Rush's back and stopped with a jerk, pulling his hand out from inside Rush's shirt. Rush shifted under his arm. Young paused, but there was no further movement. He settled his free hand back down on Rush's back. He had no idea why he was this wrapped around the other man, it certainly wasn't a typical sleeping position for him, he'd tended to spoon when sharing a bed, loosely, always the outside or spread out with no contact, if it was warm, though it was never really warm here. He wondered again when Destiny had become here and not there, when Earth had become there and not home. He could hear his own voice asking "plus you and me?" and pulled himself back into the present with an effort.

He tried not to wonder how Rush usually slept, he doubted that a United States Air Force Colonel featured highly in it. He should get up. He should get up, sneak out of here without getting caught and never talk about it again.

He lay there for a few moments. There were two major points against that. Firstly, Rush was pretty wired all the time and Young was fairly certain there was no way he could get out without waking Rush. Secondly, and this was the rub, he was pretty certain he owed Rush. The preceding couple of days had been a major fuck up and somehow Rush appeared to have realised what was going on. Which was news to him as he wasn't sure himself what was going on in his own head and he certainly didn't want to indulge in any self examination where this situation was the resolution of it.

He really needed to know what the time was.

"Rush?"

"Mmph?" A vague murmur.

He looked over Rush's head to the table next to the bed. There was a mobile phone there. He lifted his arm to reach out for it. This had the effect of pressing Rush more tightly into his neck and chest. The other man twisted and for a moment he could feel stubbled cheek and lips and hair pressed against his throat as Rush rolled in his arms. He let the other man's weight push him backwards, rolling onto his back, feeling a leg sliding up over his thigh, body pressing into his side. Incredibly Rush did not appear to have woken.

He lifted his arm again carefully but his arm was not so constrained in this position and pressing forwards, scrabbling carefully with his fingertips he was able to pull the phone into his hand, to see it was half five in the morning. Just less than six hours sleep maybe. He considered briefly, feeling Rush breathing gently against his side. He should really get up and leave. But nobody would expect him to be anywhere until seven. His memories of the preceding night were fuzzy, but he vaguely remembered Rush telling him he wasn't functioning properly, and had a clear memory of Rush pulling him into the bed and telling him to sleep and in that one thing at least Rush had been right, he needed to sleep, had really needed to sleep.

Finally he fiddled with the phone, managing to set the alarm for half past six. Just another hour's sleep wouldn't hurt him. He put the phone down quietly then lay there wondering what to do with his arm. It was tucked under Rush's neck and currently outstretched towards the table. Finally he wrapped it round Rush and closed his eyes, just another hour's sleep wouldn't hurt.

The alarm woke them both with a start.

Young's arm tensed round Rush and he felt Rush's fingers grip into his side hard.

"What? Fuck." Said Rush blinking.

The phone continued to blare its generic mobile phone alarm. Rush rolled back, pushing Young's arm out flat as he rolled over and grabbed the phone to turn it off. Phone silenced he rolled back over towards Young and regarded him.

"Did you do that?"

Young nodded.

"I didn't want to oversleep."

"You woke up already? I'm surprised you didn't leave Colonel."

Young shrugged with his free shoulder.

"You were right." He said. "I needed to sleep."

Rush's eyebrow quirked.

"So you remember our conversation last night?"

Young frowned.

"Some of it."

Rush sat up, rubbing his jaw with his hand.

"Well, I believe you got the sleep I said you needed." He looked at Young. "I suggest you sneak out now before the corridors get busy. Wouldn' want someone to see you leaving my quarters first thing in the morning."

Young huffed out a breath at the sarcasm, and stood, walking to the door. He turned before he hit the door release. Rush was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to Young.

"Thanks." He said quietly.

"You're welcome Colonel." Rush said quietly without turning round.