Chapter 1: 'Ok, who the hell are YOU?'

Rodney collapsed onto the sagging brown sofa and sighed with relief as the weight was taken off of his feet. He snatched up the remote and started to flick through the channels on his small box television, bored. His eyes lazily watched the channels change. He settled on a documentary on the discovery of gravity, and closed his eyes, letting the noise of the programme lull him to a calm state of mind.

It had been a full week since he had left Atlantis for a brief holiday, and he was due back in two days. He breathed out slowly and reached down onto the floor, groping for a can of beer that wasn't there. He harrumphed grumpily and got up, tugging his lose red shirt straight. Rodney crossed over to the small kitchen, opening the fridge and whipping a can of beer out of it. He stepped back, and slipped on a pile of abandoned clothes he had meant to clean up days, maybe even years, ago. He went flying into the wall, sending the can of beer flying. I landed on his dirty jeans, exploding with a crack.

Rodney stared at the crumpled can, rubbing the back of his head with an agitated hand. He groaned as his neighbour thumped loudly on the wall, screaming for him to shut up. He didn't bother with a reply.

He collapsed back down onto the sofa, still rubbing the back of his head. Maybe I should see Jennifer, he thought, before realising he wasn't on Atlantis.

He grumbled to himself, before turning up the TV volume to extraordinary amounts when the couple next door started arguing over what seemed to be a banana. Rodney gave up trying to listen to the television about four minutes in, and turned it off, choosing to listen to the argument next door. He opened and shut his front door so they would think he had gone out, and crept over to the wall, eavesdropping.

"Ollllliveeeerrrr! If you leave now, I'll-"

"Do what Stacy? You'll do what?!"

"I'll never let you buy fruit again!"

Oliver gave a loud and sharp intake of breath.

"You would never!"

The argument continued like this for about an hour or so. After so many years o eavesdropping on this couple Rodney knew their relationship well. Oliver was an accountant, who worked in some city somewhere, always coming home late and constantly going on about how much fruit was important for a healthy mind. Stacy was an American, through and through, and had moved to Canada to be with Oliver, but was very annoyed about how he seemed to love fruit more than her. Rodney knew for a fact, when Stacy left to go to her job (she was a shop manager) and Oliver had a day off, Oliver had, on average, six girls in the house. But he wasn't having an affair.

He ran the local Fruit Appreciation Club, and most of the members were female.

When the argument escalated into swearing, Rodney decided he wanted to actually go for a walk. God, he thought. I must be feeling bad.

xxxxXXxxxx

It was two days later.

Rodney was packing to go back, putting the small amount of items he had brought with him into a large sports bag he barely used. The Oliver/Stacy argument had, as they always did, had ended with Rodney not being able to get to sleep for the whole night, because of the… noises from the other house. He rubbed his sleepy eyes, cursing fruit. He zipped up the bag and tugged at his black jacket, which was too small for him, and quite uncomfortable. He was wearing a top the same style as the one always wore, but this time, in a shade of grey. His jeans were even dirtier.

The walk had lasted about ten minutes before Rodney had decided that walking was overrated and happily shuffled back home. Besides, it had been cold and wet, and he had suddenly remembered that he had some mathematical calculations to do. As soon as he had gotten home, the bulb in his light had happily blown and he was forced to march all the way to the hardware store and buy a new one, after discovering he was out of them. Then, his cat had decided to go to the toilet all over the floor and knock over most of his unwashed clothes pile. This was very big, and almost crushed the stupid thing.

And, after cleaning up excessive amounts of cat droppings and stacking up his never-to-be-washed clothes again, he had collapsed into the sofa once again.

And then the TV broke.

He picked up the bag, and turned to glare at the television set, cursing it for every second of shouting, thumping, crashing, and screaming that he had to endure, just because it decided to kill itself. He glared at it some more. He gave it a little kick, just to make sure it knew he hated it. The pain rushed up his leg. He hopped on his good foot, cursing loudly, clutching his injured toe in one hand.

Rodney slumped onto the sofa, and pulled his sock off. His toe was throbbing.

He sat there for a few minutes, growling at the TV, and someone knocked on the door.

He slipped his dirty sock back on and limped over to the door, flinging it open.

"What do you want and-?!"

He froze.

"Who the hell are YOU?"