"A lot of work."

Colonel Everett Young had started repeating that phrase to himself – and everyone around him – a bit too often for his own comfort, although he had, at least, managed to avoid saying it directly to the object of the statement. Well, he thought he hadn't. Well, he might have muttered it under his breath, but surely Dr. Rush hadn't heard or cared. But then one never knew with Rush, and that was the problem in a nutshell.

Young seemed to be spending more of his time thinking about Rush, arguing with Rush, trying to figure out what to do with or about Rush than anything else and he had an uncontrollable ship, a random bunch of disorganized, terrified people, and one crisis after another. It was simply that…

He knew Rush was their one hope for survival.

And he had no idea how to cope with the scientist on whom their lives depended.

That was driving him absolutely crazy. Young was a lifelong soldier, devoted to his work, enough that he'd sacrificed his marriage to it. He hadn't wanted to, it was just that what he did was important and he was comfortable in his role. He understood military life and knew how to be a good leader. His men trusted and respected him. His superiors counted on him. Everything fit into place and he had control. Even in the worst of battle, he knew what was expected of him and how to get things done right.

He even knew how to deal with scientists and geniuses, or had thought he did. Stargate Command was full of them after all, and he'd figured out long ago that they were like precocious children. They were extraordinary at the one thing they did better than anyone else and hopeless at anything else. They responded, like children, to a combination of patience and sternness. Most of them were socially awkward, most had strange habits that needed to be accommodated – within reason – and all could be handled.

All but Rush.

Rush was different and it had taken Young a while to figure out why; to realize what was different about the fiery brilliance staring at him through the fathomless depths of Rush's big brown eyes. It wasn't simply that Rush was the type of genius that came along maybe once in a generation, maybe once in a millenium, or that he was as far ahead of the kind of 'geniuses' Young was familiar with as they were ahead of him and his soldiers. It wasn't the mercurial personality, the irritable frustration with 'slower' minds, the disdain for stupidity or any wasting of his time and effort away from Rush's own priorities. No, it wasn't any of that, even though the lightning speed of Rush's mind left Young feeling like he was a turtle trying to a chase a cheetah.

No. What made Rush unique was that the genius glaring at him from that angular face and those burning eyes was truly adult: adult, experienced, analytical & self-aware. Rush observed everything and everyone, weighed and calculated every aspect of every situation. He wasn't socially inept; he was honestly disdainful of those who couldn't keep up with him. Unfortunately that was just about everyone, including Young himself. Eli had moments with him – the 'one-trick wonder' that he was. Rush had even shown Eli some respect, which meant that he was capable of it. But Young wasn't a math genius or any other kind of genius; he was just a soldier who got along best with other soldiers, a temporary leader in a nearly hopeless situation.

So how did he get Rush to acknowledge him? How did he get Rush to treat him like the commander he needed to be for these people?

OK, to be painfully honest with himself (and he'd never admit this to anyone else), the real question was how could he earn Rush's respect? Because when it came down the bottom line, that was what he truly wanted.

No, it was even more than that. He wanted the outward show of Rush's respect, yes, desperately, but there was also a twinned need, a desperation, to pin down that quicksilver mind and volatile personality, to grab hold of him and make Rush look at him, to pay attention to Young and Young only. He wanted to be the object of that obsessive focus, to be the eye in the center of that storm. He wanted Rush's attention – every last fraction of it – even if it burnt him to a cinder in the process.

That was a realization that scared the living shit of him.