A/N: I'm reposting this chapter because I think ffnet's email alerts have been wonky for a while. I didn't get a notice that this was up, and I haven't been getting notices of reviews (so extra sorry! I've realized I've missed several final chap reviews and I apologize, will reply asap! because it means so much and I try really hard to get back to everyone!)

Sam was beat. Really, really beat. Somehow, she'd imagined life as a full-bird Colonel as a little more, well, mundane. Instead, while she didn't go through the stargate daily to battle Goauld and replicators and Ori anymore, she'd learned from her year on Atlantis that management entailed its own kind of excitement. Like wading through paperwork and giving statements for hours trying to explain why one of your people was involved in a mass shooting on a quiet, Maryland horse ranch in the middle of a stormy summer night.

If John weren't so damn sick, she'd kill him.

She really wanted to go home, to bed. Like she'd planned to do last night. But, she'd gotten a few hours sleep at David Sheppard's when the police finally wrapped up their questioning and she'd brought John's bags with her when she hitched a ride from the Daedalus back to Cheyenne Mountain. So instead of a hot shower and a fluffy duvet, she was sitting in an uncomfortable infirmary chair, watching John sleep and Ronon pace.

Rodney was slumped in another chair, poking so furiously at a tablet computer, she thought his finger might go through the screen. John was propped on his side and looked pale to Sam. Being all too familiar with medical equipment and what each machine might mean, she took stock of John's "gear" and saw that while he was wired to the hilt with monitors – EEG, EKG, PulseOX, IV, and that gadget McKay and Keller had invented that was kind of like an ultra-mini Ancient scanner – the serious support equipment was, mercifully, absent. He was being watched carefully, she summarized, but was getting by on his own.

She checked her watch. John had collapsed almost 18 hours ago.

"Has he regained consciousness, yet?" she asked of Rodney, who just waved not now, so she turned the question on Ronon with a look.

"No. Doc said he's stabilized, though. Sedative wore off about six hours ago. Doc said I can kick him, soon."

"Do it," Sam ordered with a grin. "Let's wake sleeping beauty up so I can tell him his family is OK and we can both go back to sleep."

Ronon guffawed and seemed to thoroughly enjoy poking, shaking, and otherwise tormenting John until he started to grunt in unconscious protest, then sigh with more restless rustling. Ronon stood back, folded his arms and watched, his grin infectious. When John finally twitched himself awake, it was only to open his eyes and look at wherever was in front of him.

Ronon, crouched so he could see John's face, more serious when it came down to it. John raised an eyebrow in a weary sort of way. "Welcome back, Sheppard," Ronon said, but cautiously, like he was waiting for John to answer before he passed judgment on the man's lucidity.

"Thanks," John whispered, his voice dry and gravelly. "Where is...back?"

"SGC," Ronon waved his hands in the air, like that would help. "Daedalus beamed you." John just nodded, closed his eyes again for a moment, until they flew open and he began to squirm.

"Dave? Is Dave here? Is Jane OK?" Rodney snickered at the last, telling Sam that he was paying attention after all. Ronon threw her a shrug, so Sam stepped over, put her hand on his shoulder until he stilled.

"Your brother and Ms. Lammerford are just fine, John. I've just gotten back, in fact, from sorting things out with the police. And the FBI. And Homeland Security," she chuckled. "I thought I told you to relax."

John looked relieved. "Is Dave safe? From, from that Ortega guy? And the hostile takeovers, and..."

Sam sighed, realizing that he wouldn't let it go, so she gave him a "wait for it" gesture, pulled her chair over. Ronon dragged another one close by, turned it backwards to straddle. John smiled at him, clearly pleased to have his friend there.

"David and Jane told an amazing story about an assassination attempt on your brother and that you managed not only to steer David away from the bullet, but that you also took out the sniper and an entire hit squad hired by one Mr. Daniel Ortega. Ortega is in custody and likely to stay there. Several of his men are rolling over on him and David," Sam still chuckled at the thought, "David presented audio evidence of one of the men - the guy Jane calls "the Suit" - confessing to the conspiracy."

John rolled his head, gave her a look. "Evidence?"

"Apparently, you sent him out to negotiate for time to prepare for an assault." John nodded. "David recorded the whole conversation on his cell phone in his pocket."

"No way!" John looked shocked rather than amused. Which amused Sam.

"Yes, way. I see where thinking on your feet comes from, John. Ortega is pretty much criminal toast. He'll go down for conspiracy to murder, and all kinds of business things I don't understand."

John sighed, relieved. Sam chewed her lip, leaned over her knees and clasped her hands together. "But I'm more interested in the AU. How in Ba'al's Undies did you figure that out?"

"It figured me out. As the concussion improved, marginally, the connection to the AU, through my double, became more obvious. That, and as our paths diverged, I wasn't constantly overwhelmed by occupying the same space. Separating for a time gave me a chance to regain my bearings. I began to remain conscious during the connections and could control the physical symptoms to some degree."

"What we thought were seizures."

"Yes. For a long time, Jane had me convinced I was just hallucinating. Until the night of the ambush when I realized that all of the hallucinations were from my own perspective. I was sick most of that day with crossover flashes as my double watched Dave's house, preparing for the ambush in his reality. It's what I would have done."

"Jane told me that you refused the medicine that blocked out the AU?" Sam needed to get his side of this part of the story. Jane, being in on it, had coyly redirected the account of John's seeming precognition by alluding to his combat training. David, as John's biggest new fan eagerly reinforced the notion. The police ate it up like candy. Sam didn't buy all of it.

"I realized that badass-John, I mean my double, knew more about the attack than I ever could. He was more mobile in his universe. So I used the connection between us to gain intel about what was going to happen in our universe. They were identical in very strange ways. I needed that connection to keep getting the intel. I needed it to keep my damn brother alive."

Sam nodded, satisfied. "David's grateful, John. He seemed to decide he didn't really want to know the details that Jane knows, but he knows what you did and the price you paid – or could have paid. He asked constantly about seeing you."

John nodded, but was fading fast, even the short conversation exhausting him. "Maybe...tomorrow," he murmured.

"My thought as well. I told David as much."

"First name basis..." John muttered, sleepily, sounding disgusted.

"Your brother seems like a lovely man. If a bit arrogant," she said, repeating her assessment of before, but this time she could speak the words with more familiarity.

"You have no idea," John also repeated, playing along.

Sam nodded, looking at the man who had just single-handedly taken out a squad of well-armed (if poorly trained) bad guys while suffering from the debilitating effects of a concussion and an invasive AU.

"I have a very good idea," she retorted firmly. "Do you think if I told you to rest for another 12 hours, you could manage to follow that order?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. I'll check in on you tomorrow. Good night Ronon, Rodney."

"'Night," Ronon rumbled, still watching Sheppard fondly, his easy slouch indicating he wasn't going anywhere, soon. Rodney just waved without looking up.

Sam chuckled, but it was rueful. Sometimes, she really missed those guys.

John felt exhausted just from the few minutes he'd been talking to Sam, but though he closed his eyes, he found he wasn't ready to drop right back to sleep. She should really stop making rest an order, he thought grumpily. Brought out the stubborn in him.

The second Sam's footsteps faded, however, he realized that sleep wasn't going to be easy, even if he wanted to. John startled awake at the sound of scraping chairs and opened his eyes to find Rodney and Ronon both scooting closer, Rodney's tablet tossed on his bed where John could feel it resting against his foot, their expressions eager.

"What?" he demanded, still grumpy when they just sat there looking at him with smug grins.

"So..." Rodney began, with a tilt to his head, "Feeling...better?"

"I suppose?" John was definitely suspicious, now. "How long was I out?"

"18 hours." Ronon seemed to enjoy giving John that data. He always made it a point to answer first. John just shuddered. Another day. Great.

"Have fun at your brother's?" Rodney asked with that same singsong smugness.

"I spent four days hallucinating and nauseous and another fighting bad guys who were trying to kill me," he snapped. "How was your week?"

Ronon guffawed, for no reason that John could figure out and suspicion was rapidly turning to annoyance.

"It couldn't have been all that bad."

"It was that bad."

"Let me rephrase – It all couldn't be that bad."

"Rodney, I'm sick, and I'm tired. What are you getting at?" John gave up. Normally, he'd play Rodney's game and raise the ante for good measure, but tonight...

"You're sick? Poor thing. Maybe you should call Nurse Jane to make you feel better."

Ronon guffawed again and Rodney snickered at his own cleverness. John felt his face go hot, suddenly getting the gist of the teasing, but how the hell could they...?

"Jane seemed pretty concerned about you when she was saving your ass from the AU. We saw some pretty, um, affectionate forms of resuscitation going on. After you'd already been resuscitated, that is."

"She kissed you goodbye," Ronon summed up, either sensing John's confusion or wanting to rub it in, John wasn't sure.

"Oh," John said, then couldn't help the sloppy grin that crossed his face at the thought. Ronon just laughed even harder, but Rodney seemed to be offended.

"Come on! You've got to give us more than Oh."

"I don't kiss and tell, Rodney. Especially when I was unconscious during the kissing. You'll just have to draw your own conclusions."

"That's what I'm doing. Cough it up, John. Nobody just kisses you goodbye like that without some juicy story behind it."

"Jane looked after me those first days at Dave's when I was recovering and still really damn sick. We became friends." He made a serious effort not to put any innuendo into the word. And as he said it, he believed it was true. He hoped it was true – one didn't fight bad guys for a night together without becoming friends, even if the other stuff hadn't happened.

"Friends?" Rodney's look was extremely suspicious.

"Yup. She's a Corpsman. Spent time greenside in Afghanistan. Not only did she manage my ass through nausea and seizures, but she also stayed on my six during the whole hit squad ordeal. I would have died six ways from Sunday that night without her. She kicks butt."

"Oh," Rodney said, and it was John's turn to snicker, if privately. Serves him right, he thought.

"Seven," Rodney said, at last, looking more serious.

"Hmmm?"

"She saved your ass seven times. When you were unconscious, seizing from the effects of your connection to the other universe – hey! I need to ask you about that. Did your double in the AU experience some kind of traumatic physical event before you collapsed?"

John was thrown by the question, and the heart monitor began to beep faster as he was suddenly flooded by the memories of being shot, of his double's anguish.

"You could say that," he snapped at last. "He got shot in the chest by the guy that jumped out of the bushes. Come to think of it, I don't know how I didn't get shot, too." He looked down at his chest, almost afraid he'd see a wound appear before his eyes.

"I shot him first," Ronon answered, matter of fact and John threw him a heartfelt look of man gratitude. Ronon just nodded back with a calculating expression. Maybe he'd noticed the heart monitor. Rodney, however, just continued, clueless to John's distress.

"I knew it! Jennifer and I both hypothesized that when your brain was synchronized to your counterpart in the AU, traumatic events might bleed through. We were clearly right, again."

"And I almost bought the farm because of it," John growled. "I don't see the humor, Rodney."

"Not humor. Intellectual satisfaction. Anyway. Jane. She saved your ass. The ambulance was too far away, you were about to seize into organ failure, so she makes Dave get her some horse tranquilizer out of the barn, shoots you up with the stuff to stop the seizure, then blows an overdose of the antipsychotic that Dr. Klein synthesized up your nose to break the connection to the AU. She was brilliant." Rodney leaned against the back of his chair, his expression sincere. John was glad. He wasn't the kiss and tell type and he wanted his friends to like her for who she was.

Rodney was still talking, though. "Corpsman, huh? I see why she stayed so cool under fire, now. Good friend to have around," he finished with a suggestive eyebrow, demonstrating by his inflection that he wasn't buying any "just friends" story.

"A very good friend," John answered, still being careful, but Ronon tilted his head, gave him an ever-so-sideways look. "And you're good friends, too," he added softly, and meaning it. "Thanks for coming all the way..." he stopped abruptly, feeling his face heat and not quite knowing how to finish.

"Of course, of course," Rodney just waved the awkward moment away. "Chasing after you to save your skin is getting to be something of a habit."

John opened his mouth to protest. The way he remembered it, he'd pretty much taken care of Ortega's people before they'd showed up at all. But a look at Ronon, slouched over his chair in easy camaraderie stopped him. He'd be dead without them. He'd been a heartbeat, almost literally, from suffering badass-John's fate and the difference was his friends. He was lying here feeling crappy because of Jane and Ronon. He was one lucky bastard. He was also still really tired.

"I'm checking out. Carter's orders. You'll be here in the morning?" he managed around a huge yawn.

"We're stuck here just like you," Rodney confirmed. "But the good news is, we'll all be heading back to Atlantis next week."

It took John a minute to process the implication that Rodney was clearly wanting to convey. He kept raising his eyebrows up and down and nodding like get it? Get it?

"Wait. All?"

Rodney beamed.

"Yup. I talked with Dr. Klein today. Your brain activity has returned to completely normal. They've kept tabs on it for the past 18 hours and no seizures, no elevated sero-whatsits, and nothing unusual on the EEG. Except for normal hard-headedness, it's as good as new. Except for the concussion and they said you'd have to be careful about that for a while, but that two weeks on light duty on the Daedalus should about take care of it."

Rodney talked so fast that John had trouble keeping up, despite his recently rebooted head.

"I can go...home?" he whispered, finally working through it all and hating Ronon's glance at the heart monitor as the good news overwhelmed him with relief.

"I talked with Klein and Landry about that, too. We figured you'd want to finish your visit with your brother, so, depending on how you're feeling in the next couple of days, Landry's signed off on an Asgard-beam ride for us to visit Maryland for a few days before we head back."

It just got better! Even though Rodney had misunderstood his use of the word home, John did want to say goodbye to Dave under better circumstances. And there was a lot he wanted to do with Jane...

Rodney was watching him very closely and the smug smirk returned when John realized the sloppy grin was back all over his face. Until -

"Wait a minute. Ride for Us?" he blurted. Rodney's grin went even more smug.

"Of course. We're on leave, too. David invited us to come stay with him anytime, I believe was his choice of phrase."

"Anytime," Ronon repeated, his expression equally smug.

John just grinned. So. They weren't letting him out of their sight. It was kind of sweet. Even if it did mean he'd have to ditch them to see Jane...

"So, since we'll be spending a lot of quality time together, I think I'll call tonight a night, too. It's Salisbury steak in the mess hall. Their chef does it better than ours."

Rodney stood and snatched for his computer, then waited impatiently for Ronon to scoot the chairs back.

"Night, Sheppard. I'll be in the guest quarters if you need me," he said, offering John his presence with a look. John grinned and shrugged it off, no words necessary.

"'Night."

"Do you want me to come tuck in you in, later?" Rodney asked, making the same offer with such an expression of burden that John decided to give the man what he'd asked for. On his own terms.

"No thanks. Wouldn't be the same without Jane. She was very good at tucking me in." He held Rodney's eye for a long moment, then cocked an eyebrow. As he'd expected, when John was actually admitting it, Rodney went annoyed instead of smug.

"She ah, she tucked you in while you were visiting your brother, did she?"

"Only once. Or twice."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh. Well, good for you, then. Goodnight Sheppard. Glad you've been um, well tucked in." Ronon's guffaw was worth it.

John waited until they were just almost out of earshot, then called with as much smugness as he could muster, "Twice!"

Two days later, John was feeling better than he'd felt in almost a month. The nausea was gone, the weird heaviness was gone. He still had a low-grade headache that got worse when he was tired or exerted himself too much, but it was such a minor pain compared to the skull-splitting connection to another universe, that he hardly noticed.

Dr. Klein and the nursing staff were glad to get rid of him. He and Rodney and Ronon beamed into a secure facility at Andrews and rented a car. Rodney wouldn't let him drive, so John found himself musing over the stores and restaurants and shops along the route back to his childhood home. Like the home itself, most things had changed completely, but there were a few familiar joints here and there.

He found himself walking up to Dave's door happier than he ever thought he could be at this place. He'd changed, too, since his awkward, rebellious teen years. But, like the Navy Blues Tavern, there were still some crusty remnants that refused to die and he decided he was glad.

Dave opened the door at John's knock and John decided he really liked the fact that his brother answered the door himself. As haughty and arrogant as Dave could be, he treated people with respect, even staff, even strangers at the door. Their Dad had reserved his respect only for those he thought had earned it.

John grinned at his brother, then froze in surprise when Dave threw his arms out and pulled John into a fierce hug. John stood there, accepting the embrace with the realization that there was more going on than "hello, nice to see you".

When Dave finally let him go, it was with an affectionate ruffle of his hair and a brotherly punch on the shoulder like they were teenagers again.

"It's...really good to see you alive, John," Dave said, speaking with a quiet bluntness that made John blush.

"Um, me, too," he stammered. "I mean, good to see you, too, Dave. These are my friends, Rodney McKay and you met Ronon at Dad's wake."

"Of course! I met them briefly the other night, too. Come in. I'm sorry things are such a mess," he babbled with a brief wave at the construction crews working around the horse barn. "Between chasing news crews away and chasing down the deals after the fallout in leadership at Enortez Industries, I've been slow in getting the barn cleaned up."

John froze with his foot halfway through the front door. "Deals? Dave, you aren't taking advantage of that mess, are you?"

Dave's face went as cocky as John had ever seen, "Good fishing," he said, and John could only chortle.

"Just don't tick off any gansters this time. I won't be here long enough to save your ass."

Dave suddenly slapped John's shoulder and held on tight, all the gratitude and thanks that needed to be said expressed in the simple gesture.

"You're welcome," John answered firmly, letting his brother know he got it. "Hey, I wondered if you had any plans for dinner?"

"I was thinking about having Marc whip up another 5-Course to celebrate," David answered leading them through the house to the guest rooms. Rodney's eyes went wide with avarice, but John snorted, nixing the idea.

"Maybe tomorrow. I have a better idea," he said, thoroughly enjoying Dave's look of suspicion.

Later that night, John sat back at the grungy table at the Navy Blues Tavern watching his tipsy brother argue with a tipsy Rodney about the stock market and Ronon flirt with the barmaids. Fred the groomer – invited by John – sat chortling at a table of other old horsemen. Life was good.

"Bring ya another round, Colonel?" The bar tender and owner of the joint, an old Navy man himself and proud to have an Officer of John's rank in the bar, had made it a point to wait on them personally.

"Nah, I'm calling it a night. Bring another for my brother, though," he said, feeling full of mischief.

"Yes, sir!"

As Rodney got redder and Dave giggled, John decided that maybe Carter was right after all.

Maybe just being family was enough.

Jane stood in front of her dresser, getting pissed off. What the hell did you wear to meet a guy you'd slept with but hadn't really even been on a date with, yet? She was really rusty at the dating thing, she realized, and with a sigh, she gave up, put on her running clothes and fled her apartment to run her favorite route. The one with fewer obstacles so she could think.

The steady rhythm of her feet finally calmed her enough that she could admit she was just nervous. John had called her a couple of times, once to reassure her that he was alive and to thank her. She'd saved his bacon and he was a gentleman, so she'd expected that much at least. When he'd called the second time to let her know he was coming back to visit his brother for a few days and could he see her, too, her heart had gone skippity skip and she'd only managed to say, "of course, when would be good for you?" without giggling by jamming a pencil into her leg until it hurt.

But, what if they didn't have anything to talk about on a real date? What if he showed up at her door and they stood there making awkward small talk and he decided that she was a goofball and politely excused himself?

By the end of the run, she'd figured out a plan that would save them both embarrassment, give them something they had in common to talk about, and give them time to figure where things should go without pushing him. She just hoped that she could keep her heart rate from giving away what she really wanted. Flashes of John in low-riding sweats and prowling over his kill the night of the ambush kept popping out of her lizard-brain.

Unfortunately, when she jogged up the steps to her apartment door and saw John standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, her whole strategy was blown to hell. He looked, good. There was no headache squint, and even though he was idle, his body moved with an easiness, a vibrancy she hadn't seen before – outside chasing down snipers, and assaulting hit squads, that is.

John eventually spotted her a few doors down and his face went so pleased, so genuinely happy, that her lizard brain growled with an insistent plea. She froze, unable to even say, hi. He stepped back, waiting for her to get to the door and she managed to get her feet moving.

"I thought you ditched me," he said playfully.

She gasped and knew her eyes were wide, "Oh, no! I just...lost track of time. I'm so sorry, I'll just..." she fumbled for the key on the spiral around her wrist and realized she didn't have an end to that sentence. Think, Jane, she scolded herself. "I thought we might go for a picnic," she stammered trying to get the plan back on track. "I bet your ID can get us in at Canoe U. I haven't been on campus since I retired. It's a nice drive down to Annapolis."

"That sounds nice," John replied, but there was just a hint of disappointment in his tone that made her nervous. Her hands were shaking when she finally got the door open. She just stood there, stuck again, afraid that inviting him in would seem forward.

"I'm, um, sweaty," she blurted. Oops. Stick to the plan! John stepped closer, brushed a strand of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

"I noticed," he said. The tickle of his fingertips against her face almost killed her.

"I should take a shower." Shit! Had that come out presumptuous? Say something, Jane, get back to the plan!

John's face went soft and sly. And then he was kissing her and wrapping his fingers in her ponytail and she was pressing herself against him, eating him up like a starving stray.

The plan sucked.

"Jane," he whispered, his voice soft and breathless between nibbles at her lips and ear and neck. "I...don't know how to thank you. For my life. For everything."

She leaned back, their hips pressed together, one hand caressing his smooth chin and brushing his lips. "I have some ideas," she murmured.

"Great Sagan, Get a room!" bellowed a voice from the parking lot down below. John went stiff, his face went annoyed. Jane grinned and looked over the rail where a man was leaning on a rental car, his arms crossed and his expression entirely satisfied.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Rodney," John growled.

The man chortled, but didn't look like he wanted to miss any of the show, so John grabbed her by the hand, pulled her into her apartment and banged the door shut. She was still grinning, but he was suddenly all business and she was quite busy for the next several minutes.

"About that shower," he teased at last, tugging on her tank top. Jane sighed, happier than she'd been in a long, long time.

As it turned out, they didn't leave the apartment at all.

Fini

Author's Note: Thanks for all the great comments! I never thought this would quite end up such a high word-count...sorry! But thanks to those who stuck it out to the end...