Ancient Music

Rating: R for sex
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Word Count: ~18,000
Summary: Doppelganger fic. A Sheppard and McKay who might have been encounter the ones that are. Romance, action, and bickering.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, nor to I derive any profit from them.
A/N: Thank you to betas _inbetween_, fenris_wolf0 and Penny Dreadful, as well as brindel for helping me point the plot in the right direction.

One.

"I don't see the crowd," McKay had once said during an interview with Gramophone. "I hear the applause just before it ends, usually."

He could feel the crowd, though, the heat from them, and the energy. The crowd made the difference between the aesthetic pleasure of a good rehearsal, and the pure exhilarating high of performance. When every touch on the piano keys mattered, when beauty depended on the movements of his hands and mind in concert, when he held every soul in the hall in the threads of his music, he could feel it.

The applause rained down and Dr. McKay stood and took his fourth bow, before finally mopping his brow one last time and leaving the stage. His dressing room had the usual bunch of flowers, some from a former conductor, students, fans, but at least no half-dressed young music students, draped across the dressing table, waiting for him. Rodney looked at himself in the mirror, and wondered, not for the first time, if he was losing his looks. No, no changes apparent, still the same light brown hair, vaguely receding hairline and vaguely perturbed expression.

He heard a knock on the door, and called through, "Tell them I'll be out in a minute." Tonight, he'd wear off the high of performance at a late dinner at some fabulously expensive restaurant with the cream of Manhattan's arts patrons. He mopped his brow again, since he seemed to be sweating still from the stage lights and the exertion of performance.

After he'd composed himself to go be social, and had a cup of coffee to steady his hands, Rodney pulled on his jacket and headed out into the cold night. Clustered around the stage exit stood young men and women; their eyes shone brightly as they held out note pads and programs for him to sign. Once they had dispersed, a man of medium height with dark brown hair stepped out of the shadows.

"Dr. McKay," he said. "I'm John Sheppard. It is very nice to meet you."

"Yes, I suppose it would be," Rodney said absently. "Did you want me to sign something? I really need to find my driver." He peered around, over the Dumpster, and saw the Town Car waiting.

"I really just wanted to meet you," said this Sheppard character. Rodney looked him up and down more carefully. He was handsome in a matter-of-fact way, with serious eyes of some indeterminate color between green and gray, and a wide mouth.

"I'm not taking on any new students right now, plus if you're not concert level yet, it's probably too late for you." The man nodded in acknowledgement and Rodney started walking over to the car. Sheppard followed behind, not threatening, just ambling, hands in his pockets.

Rodney opened the car door and leaned on it for a moment. "Look, why did you want to meet me?" he asked.

"I saw your performance on WNET last month and just thought I should," he said.

"That wasn't a very good performance," said Rodney and he shook his head. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend, just so we're clear." He had learned pretty early on to hate groupies—they were flattering at first, but always got disappointed when you didn't live up to their fantasy.

"Neither am I," said Sheppard.

It didn't sound suggestive, but Rodney couldn't be sure. "I'm not looking for anything else either."

"Understood."

Rodney sighed—he wanted to pursue this further and see if there was anything else to Sheppard besides good looks and dubious taste in soloists—but duty called. "We're rehearsing tomorrow at noon, same concert hall as tonight. You can come back and listen again. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

The dinner was every bit as gruesome as Rodney had feared, but part of his contract as a soloist with the symphony this season was these little fund raisers, so he did his best. Luckily, super concert piano—and violin, Rodney pointed out helpfully to anyone who asked—geniuses didn't have to be friendly, just talented.

***

"No, no no!" he yelled in rehearsal the next afternoon. "You're conducting like you don't care. You can't start them during my cadenza. It's my cadenza; I can go on for as long as I want."

"Usually the soloist gives me some idea of how long he'll be playing," said the conductor with clipped and impatient enunciation.

"That's because they're always aping some famous cadenza, not improvising, which is how it should be done. We want the Grieg to sound fresh. Everyone plays it the same; everyone there will have heard the famous ones."

"Better one that works," muttered the first violinist. Rodney was about to launch into some tirade against the conductor, the quality of the symphony and definitely the first violinist, who was not actually a touring soloist, now was she, when he saw John Sheppard sitting in the audience. He exuded an aura of unflappable calm, and his eyes were fixed on Rodney.

"Just so," said Rodney, the anger dissipating. "Shall we try again?"

"Page 8, at the caesura then," said the conductor. Rodney went into the crashing notes of the improvised interlude, and this time the phrases he'd heard in his mind, the ones that echoed Grieg's while still building something new on their foundation, came out as he meant them to. The orchestra came in again just on cue and he finished the concerto effortlessly.

"Of course, now the performance will be horrible, since the rehearsal went so well," he said to no one in particular as he packed up the music and stretched out his arms. John Sheppard was still waiting in the auditorium. Rodney came down the stage stairs to greet him.

"You came," he said.

"You invited me," said Sheppard.

"Look, I'm hungry, do you want to get some lunch. There's a diner over on 10th I like to go to."

"All the food in New York and you go to a diner?" said Sheppard.

"I like plain food," said Rodney querulously. "I eat enough of the fancy crap for my job. Are you coming or not? They have really good fries." John made a gesture, as if to say "lead on," and so Rodney did.

At the diner Rodney ordered a burger and fries, and Sheppard a milkshake. "How long have you been playing?" he asked after the food arrived.

"Since I was five," said Rodney through a bit of hamburger. "When I was twelve—excuse me—," he washed down his bite with a swig of Coke. "When I was twelve my teacher told me I'd never be a concert pianist, so I took up violin, but then a couple years later I went back to piano. I did my undergrad at the Eastman school of music and then got a masters in mathematics and a Ph. D. in music theory at Julliard." He finished the last in a rush, and took another bite of hamburger.

"What do you do?"

"I was in the Air Force for a while, and now I teach high school math."

"Were you in . . .?"

"Iraq? No. I was in Afghanistan, then Antarctica, then I got out."

"And math?"

"I'm good at math, and I like kids."

"Why did you come to see me play? I mean, I have fans—lots of fans—but they're not usually, I mean, they're usually music students, or—," Rodney rubbed the back of his head, "—high school students on field trips from Westchester seem to like me a lot, but not . . ."

"Not ex-military high school teachers?"

Rodney frowned. "Not that I know of. I'm flattered, don't get me wrong, you're good company."

Sheppard smiled slightly. "Thank you."

"So, why?"

"This is going to sound really weird." Sheppard rubbed his hair in an unconscious imitation of Rodney. It was very nice hair, thought Rodney with a stab of jealousy. Mr. Sheppard was an alarmingly good looking man and Rodney wondered if he'd have more fans if he looked more like him.

"This is already weird, so go ahead."

"I was hiking in the Shawgunks a couple months ago and I found this thing at the foot of a cliff." Sheppard pulled out a small green pendant on a leather cord from his breast pocket. As he cupped his hands around it, it started glowing with green and pulsating light. He handed it to Rodney, but as Rodney touched it the glow faded out.

"That is weird," said Rodney, turning it over in his hands. "If it were warmth or touch activated, there's no reason it shouldn't light up for me as well. Do you have some sort of transmitter that turns it on?"

"Transmitter?"

"You know, like on Star Trek? How should I know? And what does this have to do with me?"

Sheppard raised one eyebrow. "Well, after I found this thing, I started having all kinds of dreams. Strange ones. Aliens, glowing orbs, and a city full of spires, and uh, you, Dr. McKay." Rodney leaned back and crossed his arms. "I didn't know it was you until I saw you on WNET," said Sheppard quickly, "and I thought—I don't know what I thought—I thought if you saw this thing, you might know something about it."

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this. You'd seen me before; you dreamed about me, the pendant is just a coincidence." Rodney frowned and stared off into the distance. "You dreamed about me? Really?"

Sheppard shrugged. "I'm just trying to figure this stuff out. If you don't recognize it . . .," he tucked the artifact back into his pocket.

"Wait, I have some friends, acquaintances really, in the Princeton Materials Science Department—maybe we could ship it to them and see what they make of it? What was I doing in your dreams?"

"You were a scientist, a good one." Sheppard patted his pocket where the pendant was, in a gesture that looked like the beginning of habit.

"Of course I was," said Rodney, preening a little. "You know, I did think about being a physicist. I even built a mock-up of an atomic bomb when I was eleven."

"I'd rather not let this thing out of my sight," continued Sheppard. "Can I bring it down to Princeton myself?"

"Okay, I have to teach a master class down there next week anyway. You can come along."

"Really?"

Rodney smiled. "Sure. I'd like that. I'd also like to see where you found it. Does it only light up for you?"

"Yeah—I thought it might light up for you, but I guess not. Maybe if I find one of the other people from my dreams."

"There were other people," said Rodney flatly, not that he had expected any different, he supposed, but he'd been enjoying the attention from Sheppard, those warm, intelligent eyes on him, and now he'd probably go looking for those other people, and, Rodney realized, he didn't want to share him.

"I've never seen any of them."

"Huh," said Rodney. He tried to pay their tab, although Sheppard insisted on chipping in for his milkshake.

"I'm going up to the ‘Gunks again this weekend, see if I can't find anything else. You should come with me," said Sheppard as they walked back to Lincoln Center.

"Well, I'm not performing this Saturday. We could go on Sunday." Rodney gave him his address and they shook on it, Sheppard firmly, Rodney somewhat gingerly.

Rodney did not have any desire to spend time in the outdoors, but he woke up on Sunday with a very great desire to see more of John Sheppard. He always had trouble meeting interesting men, and something about Sheppard fascinated him, even if the man was very likely delusional.

Just please don't turn out to be boring, he thought, as Sheppard pulled up in front of Rodney's apartment building on Sunday in a battered green Jeep Cherokee. The back seat had been removed, and instead he saw a cooler, a first aid kit, and couple of frame backpacks.

"How long are we going for?" he asked nervously as he belted himself in.

"Just the afternoon, but it never hurts to be prepared. Snow's predicted."

"Oh. I'm not really a big hiker. I mean, I'm not in bad shape—you have to be in good shape to be a concert pianist—it's like running a marathon every night—but I haven't been out in the woods in a long time." Rodney was babbling and he knew it, and he took a deep breath to slow down. "And I've never been in the woods voluntarily," he muttered. "I guess there's a first time for everything. Did I mention I'm allergic to bees? And everything else. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"You'll be fine," said Sheppard. "There's an anaphylactic shock kit in the first aid kit, and if you can't give yourself an injection, I'm sure I can." He looked over and gave Rodney a grin; a grin that melted something in him Rodney didn't even know was frozen.

"Yeah, sure," he said with a smile of his own.

Two hours later, Rodney started to regret his decision again. The wind that blew through the bare trees in this state park was cold and biting. The trails that crisscrossed the Shawgunks went up and down what seemed like sheer cliff faces, and he found himself out of breath as he followed Sheppard up and up and up. Finally they stood on a high rock abutment that overlooked the Hudson River and the whole valley.

"That development didn't used to be there," said Sheppard, pointing north. Rodney could see huge white houses, with still bare lawns where Sheppard pointed. "It used to be forest. We fought hard to prevent it, but . . ."

"I'm sorry," said Rodney. He had not really pictured Sheppard as a tree-hugger type, but, he supposed, it took all kinds. Maybe all those scientists in Antarctica had rubbed off on him. "If you don't mind me being nosy, what's a guy like you doing in New York? I mean, you seem like the western, outdoors type, with a horse and a ranch or something, or maybe mountain climbing in Alaska, but New York?"

John Sheppard looked at him, considering, for a moment. "I came here to be with a friend while he died," he said evenly. "It took a long time, so I found a job. I give pilot lessons out in the Hamptons in the summer. It's been a couple of years, and I keep thinking about leaving, but--," he shrugged, "—I never seem to get around to it."

"I'm sorry about your friend," said Rodney, but part of him did a little skip: "friend" put together with "died" spoke a lot louder than "I used to be in the Air Force", and Rodney felt a little frisson of excitement, that made his heart start to beat faster even though they no longer climbed uphill. "Was it cancer or something? Or did you not want to talk about it?"

Sheppard shot him an unreadable look. "AIDS," he said, shortly, and Rodney just nodded, afraid to say more.

"I found the artifact over near where some of the bulldozer's had been working. It looks like an abandoned foundation, like they figured they couldn't build a house there and just left." They started walking again, and Rodney admired the way Sheppard moved through the woods—his feet made little sound on the leaves and he twisted and pivoted to avoid branches as if some sixth sense told him not just where they were, but where each gust of wind would move them.

They reached the site where Sheppard had found the pendant, and it was as he had described. At the base of a cliff face, it looked like the ground had been dug up, and Rodney saw scrapes of metal on the stone. "It looks like a ring, here, on the cliff face," he said, tracing the arc of it with his hands. "The stone is very smooth." Part of him was reluctant to look too closely into this mystery, afraid if they solved it, then he'd never see Sheppard again.

"Check this out," said Sheppard. He took off one of his gloves and touched the ring directly. Rodney could somehow see it more clearly now—it looked like a circle that have been slightly submerged under the earth. He could see the joins between the blocks that created it. "It gets warmer when I touch it."

"Well, your hands are probably warming up the rock," said Rodney impatiently. "Let me see. Oh, nope, it's cold for me."

"It's very familiar." Sheppard put his glove back on. "Like déjà vu or something. I don't know."

"Like from your dream?" Rodney tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice. He didn't believe in dreams—they were nothing but the flotsam from a tired mind, a dumping ground for obsessions and fantasies—but he wouldn't mind figuring into those fantasies.

Sheppard shrugged. "I don't know." He squinted up at the sky. "Storm's coming soon—we should get back. Sorry I dragged you out here for nothing."

Rodney pulled up the collar of his coat. "It's fine," he said, "it's probably good for me to get out of the city sometimes." Sheppard half-smiled at him.

"You're not a very good liar."

"You know, everyone tells me that," he said. "Let's go."

***

"Oh God, how did I get myself into this?" complained Rodney a few hours later. They had made it back to the Jeep amid snowflakes that fell in clumps the size of golf balls.

"It's good for you," said John "gets you out of your head. You'll perform better for it."

"What do you know about it?" said Rodney. When John turned on the radio, they heard that all the roads back to New York were closed to any but emergency traffic. "It's a fucking emergency!" Rodney blew on his fingers to warm them up. "I need some coffee and my own bed, and a New York Times music section, and Bach partita on the stereo. That's not asking too much, is it?"

Sheppard smiled fondly at him as if Rodney had said something particularly sweet instead of his litany of complaints. "I can't help you with your bed, but—," he pressed a button on the dashboard and sound issued out.

"That's not a partita, it's the double violin concerto in D minor," said Rodney, but he couldn't keep the smile out of his voice.

"I have Johnny Cash, too," suggested Sheppard. "There's coffee here in a thermos—I like coming back to something warm." He poured some of the liquid into the lid and handed it to Rodney. Rodney wrapped his hands around it to draw out the warmth and took a sip. "There are some newspapers on the floor back there for when I put my Flutie—my dog—back there, but you might not want to read them."

While they waited for the engine to warm up, Rodney saw a flashlight shining in the window through the growing dark. A park ranger tapped on the glass. Sheppard rolled down the window. "You boys thinking of going somewhere?"

"Yes, in fact, we are," said Rodney. "We need to get back to New York. Barring that, I suppose a hotel wouldn't kill us."

"Baker's B&B is just a few miles ahead," said the ranger, "but I don't know if they have any rooms available. Get off the road, though. Even if your jeep could make it, there are a lot of accidents out there."

"Get off the road, great advice," muttered Rodney once they rolled up the window.

It took hours to make it the ten miles to the bed and breakfast, and the sky was completely dark by the time they pulled into the unplowed front driveway. The bed and breakfast didn't have any rooms available, and their power was out, but they were willing to let Rodney and John sleep in the sitting room for the night, for a small fee. John brought in the sleeping bags from the car and they pulled cushions off the couches to make a comfortable pile on the floor. Rodney couldn't help noticing that John was making one pile of cushions, not two, and he smiled a little to himself.

"It's going to be cold tonight—no heat, drafty house—so if you don't mind . . . ?"

"I don't mind," said Rodney, too quickly.

They both got into their sleeping bags and stared up at the ceiling, a flashlight nestled in the gulf between them. All Rodney could hear was the settling and clicking of the old house and the soft swish of snow hitting the windows.

"I guess you're used to the cold from McMurdo," said Rodney after a moment. "Were you down there in the summer or the winter?"

"I was there for three years, all seasons."

"You must have really pissed someone off," said Rodney with a short laugh.

"Something like that," agreed John. "I liked it down there, though. Taking a helicopter over the mountains, seeing the snow shining on all that ice. The wind sculpts it. It was like another planet." He faded into silence again, but it wasn't awkward, and Rodney spent a few seconds quiet without feeling the need to fill it.

"Why didn't you bring your dog . . . Flutie . . . with you today?"

"I wasn't sure you liked dogs."

"Dogs don't like me, is usually the problem. They're not alone in that."

"Flutie will like you," said Sheppard.

"Why?"

"He likes who I like." Rodney looked at the ceiling hard as if there were something there that would save him. He felt a tightness in his chest, a nervousness, but it felt good and welcome, and he was acutely aware of the warmth of John Sheppard lying next to him. People don't like me, he wanted to say, which is only fair, since I don't like people. Even more, he wanted to ask what on earth John saw in him, why he sought him out, why he was even now saying the very thing that Rodney most wanted to hear, but he didn't want to break whatever spell they were under.

He could feel the cushions shifting and John rolling over on his side to face him. It took every ounce of his courage to turn and prop his head up on his elbow. He could see the soft lines of John's face in the dim light from the window. John cupped Rodney's jaw with his hand and pulled him close, and kissed him with infinite care, lips open, not demanding, but neither was it tentative.

"So you knew I was lying then, too," said Rodney when they pulled apart slightly. "When I said I wasn't looking for anything." He couldn't see much of John in the darkness, but what he could see made him excited, overwhelmed even: John's lips were parted and his eyes half-closed.

"Yes, I knew then too."

***

"Rude star pianist of the New York Philharmonic seen in a clinch with sexy high school teacher, but who is teaching whom?" the caption below their picture in Page Six read. Rodney never read Page Six, but his agent had cut it out and sent it to him. He put it up on the refrigerator so John would see it when next he came over. The picture showed them toasting glasses of champagne at Senso: Rodney beaming crookedly at the camera and John grinning broadly enough to crinkle up the edge of his eyes, and Rodney smiled to himself and touched the newsprint faces.

"That doesn't even make sense. ‘Rude'?" he said when he showed it to John. "The Post really isn't stretching the vocabulary of its readers today. That's not particularly accurate. Cantankerous, irascible . . ."

"Bitchy?" suggested John through a bite of doughnut.

"That's kind of homophobic, don't you think?"

"If the shoe fits . . ."

Rodney couldn't help but smile at him. The picture was of their six month anniversary celebration (not that either of them celebrated these things) when John had finally agreed to move in with him. They had fought plenty over the past months, mostly about things John wouldn't talk about, but that didn't matter, not in the long run.

"They said ‘don't ask, don't tell, don't pursue,'" he'd said once in exasperation. "I had a little trouble with the ‘don't pursue' part, so I'd like to obey the rest of it." And Rodney knew that tone of voice and respected it, didn't even remind him that he was out of the military now, so maybe he could talk about it.

Most of the time John allowed Rodney to bully him around, or at least pretended to, but when he held firm, Rodney could never stand against him. They also fought about John's need to put his life in danger on a regular basis, rock climbing without ropes--"but never higher than ten meters", small planes, cave diving. Rodney consented to fly with John, but John was on his own for all the other thrill seeking.

Rodney also started fights when John completely failed to react to the news that Rodney's students regularly threw themselves at him. Sadly, it was never the ones he found attractive, all of those were far to smart to think seducing their teacher, even if he was a world renowned soloist, was a good idea.

Rodney's agent had suggested on multiple occasions that John was dazzled by Rodney's fame, such as was, but Rodney knew, no matter who had the money or the fame, that he was the lucky one. John Sheppard did not seem the type to be dazzled by much of anything. His face softened as he watched Sheppard finish his donut in bites that were too big, until John caught him looking and smiled back.

"I think we should go hiking today," said Sheppard. He leaned back in his chair and rested his leg on the table.

"This isn't a sentimental thing, is it?" asked Rodney. Then his face fell. "Did you have another dream?"

"I just feel like we should go there." Rodney didn't argue, but instead looked around for his hiking boots and wind breaker, both presents from John, because even though it was only Labor Day, it could still be cold when the wind blew down the Hudson. They had been hiking again since that first time, but never back to the ring on the cliff, especially once Rodney's Princeton contacts had ascertained that the artifact contained fairly ordinary materials, and none of them would hazard a guess why it lit up only for Sheppard without breaking it open, which he would not approve.

Rodney would always complain about hiking at first, but he had to admit he did enjoy the fresh air, the exercise and the time alone with John. This time, John made a beeline straight up the cliffs and back to the new development. Now the new houses had well manicured lawns, gardens and several cars in front. The trees were full of leaves and hid the cliff with the ring from view until John almost walked smack into it.

"It looks about the same," said Rodney. He touched the stone again, and it felt as it had, cold and hard. Then John touched it and suddenly blue lights came to the surface from deep within the stone and Rodney heard the hard scrape of rock on stone. "What did you do?"

"I don't know," said John. He held himself tensely, as if ready to flee, and Rodney suddenly thought how natural he would look in that same wary stance if he were holding a gun. He moved closer to Sheppard, as the scraping sounded again. The ring of rock pushed its way out of the cliff until it stood in full relief. Now the smooth stone looked more like metal. Set at regular intervals around the perimeter, other chevron-shaped pieces stood out even further and blue lights glowed in their depths.

Then, without warning, something shot out at them from the center of the ring. "Get down!" yelled Sheppard. He pushed Rodney down by the shoulder, and Rodney found himself on the dirt with the wind knocked out of him before he could think.

"That wasn't necessary," he started to say, but even he could see that it was very necessary indeed. He looked up at the ring of stone, and it had become what looked like a vertical pool of water standing in front of them. Sheppard got up, dusted himself off, and held out his hand to help Rodney up.

"This is it," he said to Rodney. "This is what I've seen in my dreams over and over again, since I found that thing. You and I, we go through them, and we find other worlds on the other side. We have to go through this." His voice was low, but filled with an urgency Rodney had never heard before. Rodney started to back away, but John held his arm hard enough that Rodney could not easily pull away.

"I have to do this, and I want you to come with me," he continued. "You're there too." Rodney looked at him for a moment and then looked away.

"How do you know it's safe? Oh, I know how. You don't. We might never come back."

"Don't you feel like we're missing something, like there's something more exciting out there?"

Rodney shook his head sadly. "No, not any more." He reached up his free hand to John's face, but John shook him off.

"Look, whoever created these things must have a way to go both ways, backwards and forwards. We can probably get back. Flutie is boarded for the weekend. You don't have any concerts; it's perfect."

"It's anything but. What if we can't get back?"

"Then we can't."

"Look, I like my life here. I have a great career, at least, like, ten adoring fans--," John had to smile at that, "—and you're here."

"No, I'm not." He let go of Rodney's arm, and started walking toward the portal.

"Wait," said Rodney. "I'll go. I'm coming." He reached out and took John's hand again. "Although it's going to be really funny if this is just a joint hallucination and we both get bloody noses when we walk into the cliff."

And in they walked.

Two.

"Unscheduled activation!" Grodin said over the usual noise of conversation in the control room.

"Shields up," commanded Dr. Weir, as she rushed down the hallway.

"The shield won't turn on," said Grodin.

Elizabeth wasted no time. "Guards," she called out, and several marines swarmed in to surround the gate.

"Dr. McKay, you have to see this," said Elizabeth, she said, once the marines had the intruders surrounded.

"I'm very busy right now," said Dr. McKay, "telling Dr. Zelenka just how wrong he is."

"No, you are the one who is wrong," said Zelenka, "but at least you got my name right for once."

"You really have to see this," she said forcefully. Dr. McKay turned.

"It's me," he said after a moment, and it was--someone who looked very like him, standing next to the Major. Both wore hiking boots and cargo pants.

"And the major," added Ford, "holding hands. And they look terrified."

"That's very sweet, Dr. McKay," added Elizabeth. She licked her lips and looked away from Dr. McKay, but other than that, did not trouble to hide her amusement.

"Well, it's not me me, as I'm sure you've noticed. I'm standing right here. Where did they come from?"

"Through the gate," said Dr. Weir. "What were you trying to do? I thought you were working on a low-energy way to get back to earth."

"This is actually very interesting," said Rodney. "I thought I found an address for Earth that would use a lot less energy than our trip here did--it didn't require eight chevrons--so we were going to dial it up and see, but we hadn't dialed anything yet, just run some simulations. It looks like that me made a connection from Earth. Just not our Earth."

"Multiple Earths?" asked Elizabeth.

"Well, SGC research has shown that the space-time continuum consists of multiple ‘time planes' or ‘quantum mirrors', if you will, that can be portals to other universes--,"

"Dr. McKay!" Elizabeth cut him off. "I think this can wait. We should greet our guests."

"Fine," said Dr. McKay under his breath as he walked down the stairs to the Stargate. "This is very weird for me, which I'm sure you couldn't possibly sympathize with. It's strange coming face to face with another version yourself, except he seems to be wearing a really ugly scarf."

When they saw him coming, the alternate McKay and Sheppard, stopped holding hands, and Earth McKay wiped his palms off on his pants. "I'm Dr. McKay," he said.

"I'm Dr. McKay," said Atlantis McKay. "Very nice to, uh, meet you. Me. Alternate you. Whatever. And this is Major Sheppard, I presume."

"No, I'm not in the Air Force anymore," said Earth Sheppard.

"Really, uh, interesting. And what are you a doctor of, Dr. McKay?" asked Atlantis Rodney.

"Music Theory. Masters in math."

Atlantis McKay snorted. "They give out doctorates in Music Theory?"

Earth McKay drew himself up to his full height, which was, not so coincidentally, the exact same height as his Atlantis doppelganger. "I'll have you know, that it is a very rigorous program at Julliard, but I suppose you wouldn't understand." He seemed to have forgotten his fear of the marines.

"Julliard? So am I—I mean, are you, some kind of professor then?"

"I'm a concert pianist. Quite a good one, if I say so myself."

"But Mrs. Donovan told me—us? That we would never be more than a clinical player."

"And you believed her? I wasn't so easily discouraged."

Atlantis Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought the world needed more brilliant physicists than musicians."

"Well maybe Mrs. Donovan was right about you."

"That's enough!" said Atlantis's Sheppard from up on the control deck in his command voice. Two McKays and one Sheppard turned their faces up to him. "McKay, bring our new friends up to the conference room, and we'll find out more about this." When they came up to the stairs, Atlantis Sheppard said to his McKay under his breath: "I didn't think you would be able to bicker with another version of yourself."

"I bicker with myself all the time. If you haven't noticed, Major, I'm extremely annoying." His voice rose on the last words and he turned a glare upon his Earth counterpart, who shot the same glare right back.

"This is just weird," said Earth Sheppard to no one in particular.

They gathered in the conference room: Dr. Weir, Zelenka, in case Dr. McKay couldn't think straight, which he said-- neither version of Rodney thought the pun was amusing, although Elizabeth clearly did--and finally the doubled McKays and Sheppards.

"Nine months ago, I found this," said Earth Sheppard, and he brought out the pendant. He explained the dreams, recognizing McKay, and finally finding the Stargate turned on.

"You're saying that we were in the exact right place when you turned on the Stargate to our Earth, and if we hadn't been there, we never would have come through?" asked Earth McKay. "That's too big of a coincidence."

"It's not a coincidence, because that's not how it happened. We didn't open the Stargate, doctor," said Atlantis McKay, "you did."

"That pendant has the ability to activate a Stargate to Atlantis, and bypass our shields?" said Elizabeth. "That's . . . troubling."

"Well, I'll have to study it further to sure," said Atlantis McKay. He held out his hand to Earth Sheppard, who looked around the room suspiciously.

"I'm afraid we need to insist, Mr. Sheppard," said Elizabeth, after Earth Sheppard had hesitated for a moment. "That item represents a significant security risk for us."

Elizabeth looked at him questioningly, and finally Earth Sheppard sighed and handed the artifact to Atlantis McKay. "So this is another planet, and an alternate reality?" he asked.

Elizabeth and Atlantis Rodney exchanged a look, and Rodney wondered how much they should reveal, then she nodded and Atlantis McKay smiled slightly. "As I was saying earlier, I've seen this before, or something like it. The first possibility is that while we are very far away from the Earth in our continuity, the one where I am a world class astrophysicist and not this—,"

"Rodney . . .," warned Dr. Weir.

"Not this ‘concert pianist'," continued Atlantis McKay, "we are much closer to other realities of Earth. That brings me to the second part of my theory. No one fully understands wormholes, although I flatter myself that I am closer than most, but we know that they connect not just points in space-time, but points in a sort of meta-verse of all possible realities. These travelers are clearly from a different reality, but they are also older—look, that Rodney's hair is much more receded than mine—,"

"Yours will be," muttered Earth McKay darkly.

"And Sheppard has more lines on his face," said Atlantis McKay as if he had not been interrupted. "What year is it, on your Earth?"

"2010," said Earth Sheppard.

"And in ours it's 2005, or so we presume," said Atlantis McKay, favoring Earth Sheppard with a smile. The two pairs passed unreadable looks around the table for a moment.

"I knew the Ancients built gates connecting alternate realities, but calling people from those realities?" asked Dr. Weir. "Forgive me, but it seems a little far-fetched, even for them."

"Well, we don't know that ‘our' Earth is even in the same reality as Atlantis, except that we came here first. There's no reason why we couldn't have come here and discovered another team from another Earth. Dr. Weir, if you recall your experience, with the other you, in a way we did discover another team already here."

"But she was from our reality originally and then it diverged," said Elizabeth. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Well, this one may have diverged at a different time—more then thirty years ago in my lifetime, or thirty-five in his." He gestured at Earth McKay. "It's easy to see if you think fifth dimensionally . . ." Atlantis McKay trailed off when he saw Zelenka rolling his eyes.

"No, it kind of makes sense," put in Earth McKay. "Did you ever read A Wrinkle In Time?"

"I loved that book, when I was seven," said Atlantis McKay, "But its explanation of wormhole physics is woefully over-simplified."

"It's a childrens' book," continued Earth McKay. "Well, there's this concept that the shortest distance between two points is not a straight line, but rather a wrinkle that brings the two points close together. There is a charming illustration with a piece of fabric and an ant, but that doesn't matter. Is it possible that wormholes represent these ‘tesseracts'?"

"That's a misnomer," said Atlantis McKay. "A tesseract is actually a mathematical representation of a fourth dimensional cube—"

"That is a nice little story," said Zelenka, interrupting him, "but it still does not explain how that Sheppard knew to come through the Stargate."

"I have a theory about that, too," said Atlantis McKay.

"Of course you do," said Atlantis Sheppard. His McKay glared at him for a moment.

"As I was saying, I think that the Ancients must have left these artifacts in other realities, to serve as a beacon when their kind came again. It responded to that Sheppard's ATA gene, and started giving him subconscious instructions for how to come here."

"ATA gene?" asked Earth Sheppard. Atlantis McKay gave him a quick explanation, and Earth McKay sunk down further in his chair.

"So the Ancients wanted to call their own kind back to Atlantis," said Dr. Weir. "Does that mean we can expect more copies of ourselves coming through?"

"Well, I think that's fairly unlikely. Only the Major and maybe Carson have the gene strong enough to activate these ancient devices, and the Major seems like the only one crazy enough to follow it through a wormhole without knowing anything about it," explained Atlantis McKay.

"Hey," said Atlantis Sheppard, but without much heat.

"And there might be different versions of Atlantis as well," said Atlantis McKay.

"How soon can you send them back, McKay?" asked Dr. Weir.

"Send us back? But we just got here!" said Earth Sheppard.

"There seem to be fluctuations in the amount of energy needed to open a wormhole to their Earth, at least based on our simulations. I wonder if there is a ZPM on that Earth's end to power it? Or it could be that their reality is unstable," said Atlantis McKay. "Obviously, there is something odd about it." Earth McKay shot him a nasty look.

"Well, it looks like you two are our guests for a while," said Dr. Weir. "There's plenty of space to stay." She tilted her head to the side. "I'd like Dr. Beckett to take a look at you and make sure you are what you appear to be. No offense meant."

"Wait a sec," put in Atlantis McKay, "do they even have security clearance?"

"Pending Dr. Beckett's findings, there's no reason they can't see the facility," said Dr. Weir in a tone designed to shut down argument. "After all, they're already here."

Guards took them down to the infirmary and the Atlantis Sheppard and McKay tagged along behind. Dr. Beckett found that the alternate Sheppard and McKay had identical DNA to their Atlantis counterparts.

"Can we expect much more of this?" asked Carson. "One of you is plenty, Dr. McKay."

"I've been saying the exact same thing," said Atlantis McKay.

"Dr. McKay, Major Sheppard," said Dr. Weir when she and Zelenka joined them in the infirmary, "Please see to it that yourselves settle in and get a look around."

"Don't you think maybe we have better things to do?" asked Atlantis McKay. "Like getting them back to Earth before everyone sees them?"

"We're sitting right here," said Earth Sheppard with a rumble of anger in his voice.

"I think it's too late for that, anyway," said Elizabeth.

"Zelenka, can you build a subroutine that monitors the energy levels of the connection back to their reality, so we know when they can safely get back?"

"Easily, Dr. Weir."

Dr. Weir crossed her arms over her chest and fixed Atlantis McKay with a look. "I'm sure you have something to learn from your other selves," she said, and gave them one of her opaque smiles, "Have fun."

"We'll take this corridor, you take that one, and we'll meet back in the mess when we're done," said Atlantis Sheppard after they left the conference room. The two Sheppards took off down the hall, and the two McKays exchanged a look, and with a gesture, agreed to tail them on the level above.

"So, what's with you and Rodney?" they heard Atlantis Sheppard say.

"We're dating," said Earth Sheppard.

"How's that working out for you?"

"Pretty well, actually."

"Cool. So, how are the Dolphins doing this season, in your reality?" The talk turned to sports and both McKays rolled their eyes simultaneously.

"Typical," muttered Atlantis McKay. "Let's go this way. He's probably just going to show your Sheppard the puddle jumpers, which are nifty, don't get me wrong, but Atlantis has other things to show you."

"So," said Atlantis McKay after a moment of silence, "how do you put up with him? I mean for you, it's voluntary, right?" Earth McKay smiled smugly, as if to say "you're not fooling me". "You're a famous pianist, you probably have women, er, people throwing themselves at you."

"Well, I do, of course," said Earth McKay, "but, John, I mean, have you looked at him? He's, well, there's no comparison. Anyway, you were flirting with him in the conference room, I saw it."

"I was not."

"You have your own Sheppard. You can't have mine."

"I don't want yours. I don't want mine! There is no mine! God, you're annoying."

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. We're not that different. You're telling me you're really around someone that smart, that beautiful, every day, away from Earth, in this intense situation, and you've never even thought about it?"

"He's not that smart," said Atlantis McKay. "Well, maybe he is. And he usually seems to get what I'm talking about. When he listens."

"He listens more than he lets on."

They walked down the corridor in silence for a few minutes. "Do you think they're talking about us?" asked Atlantis McKay.

"No," said Earth McKay, with an air of exasperated affection, "they're talking about sports."

"Do you think they're . . . ?" Atlantis McKay trailed off, but his tone left no doubt about what he meant.

"No," said Earth McKay with a snort, then stopped short for a moment. "Well, maybe, actually, that would be really hot, and I don't know if I would be allowed to get jealous since it's himself. Wow, that would be—"

"Stop! Just stop thinking about it. Keep your dirty thoughts off my--,"

"I thought he wasn't your anything. They're your dirty thoughts too. Never mind," he said when Atlantis McKay whirled on him angrily. "Tell me how you got here, to the Stargate project, the military, all of this."

So Rodney told him about his multiple doctorates, the Stargate program, Dr. Carter, whom Earth McKay agreed sounded quite fetching, and the past few months on Atlantis, the near death experiences, the Wraith, everything. "So you met Major Sheppard because of the Stargates anyway," said Atlantis McKay once he had wrapped up the story of the storm, and shown Earth McKay the scar on his arm. They stood near one of the grounding stations looking out over the ocean.

"He's not a major anymore in my reality."

"Did he leave because of . . ." Atlantis McKay made a vague gesture.

"He doesn't like to talk about it, but I gather someone found out when he tried to rescue his, uh, partner in Afghanistan. They slapped his wrist for disobeying an order and sent him to Antarctica, instead of kicking him out for what they knew was going on."

"Oh," was all Atlantis McKay could say. Suddenly a lot of oblique references the major had made started to make sense. "He was also sent to Antarctica in this reality, too. For different reasons, I'm sure."

"I'm sure." They stared out over the flat calm sea.

"When did you know you were gay?" asked Atlantis McKay suddenly, with a pained expression on his face.

"There was this really beautiful trumpet player in the high school orchestra, Peter—"

"Henderson," finished Atlantis McKay weakly.

"And I kissed him in one of the double bass closets—and believe me, the irony wasn't lost on me—after school one day, and you know what they say about trumpet players?"

"That they're great kissers?"

"You know that too? But you weren't in orchestra then, were you?"

"I went to listen to them rehearse while I did my homework," said Atlantis McKay. He rubbed his forehead and looked worried. "And you knew?"

"You didn't?"

"Well, there haven't been enough opportunities—Peter punched me in the face."

"We dated for a while, but secretly, of course."

"Well, you were probably the star of the orchestra."

"And you?"

"The star of the chess team. And the math team. It doesn't have quite the same cache. Oh, hell." Atlantis McKay finished dejectedly. "You're a good pianist, then?"

"One of the best," said Earth McKay and patted him awkwardly on the back. "You're doing great work here," he said. Then more quietly: "I know my Sheppard would rather be here, with all this excitement, then with me on Earth."

"That doesn't really make me feel better." They looked out over the Atlantean ocean again for a moment, then Atlantis McKay turned around and leaned back on the railing.

"We should get back to the mess," he said. "You'll love the food here, all MREs, all the time."

"Really?" said Earth McKay excitedly. "John always brings them on our hikes—he hates them, and he thinks I'm making fun of him when I say I like them."

***

"We have a situation," said Dr. Weir when they all met up again. "Dr. Zelenka, if you will."

"Yes, based on the energy fluctuations, I think we will be able to send you two home in less than a week, but one of the off-world teams found something—"

"It's an Ancient musical instrument," cut in Dr. Weir, excitedly. "We've found lots of their science and their weapons, but this is one of the first instances we've seen of their culture, and now that Dr. McKay is here, well, I was hoping you could take a look at it."

"And you didn't ask me?" said Atlantis McKay, looking injured. "I still play piano sometimes. Or I used to. When I had one."

Earth McKay gave him an exasperated look. "I'd be honored to look at it, Dr. Weir. I play several instruments, I'm sure I can give some insight."

"It is on another world. We'll have to gate to it," said Zelenka.

"He's not field rated," protested Atlantis McKay.

"Then you'll have to keep a close eye on him, won't you," said Dr. Weir.

They decided to fly the jumper through, for safety's sake, even though gate came out in a world with a breathable atmosphere. The gate was set into a wide natural amphitheater, a sloping grass bowl.

"Can I fly on the way back?" asked Earth Sheppard.

"We only went ten meters," said Atlantis McKay.

"I'm sure we could find a way to go further," Atlantis Sheppard said with a grin at his double.

"I think they like each other a little too much," said one McKay to the other.

The instrument looked more like an organ than a piano; Earth McKay decided when he examined it. The keys seemed to be made out of a ceramic of some sort, and were marked with embossed symbols.

"Gate symbols," murmured Atlantis McKay, running his fingers gently over the keys, but not hard enough to depress them.

"May I play?" asked Earth McKay. He glanced at Dr. Weir and she nodded. She could not resist coming along, and had left Carson in nominal charge of Atlantis while they were gone.

"We don't even know what it does," protested Atlantis Sheppard. "What if it keys the gate? We can't even shield it."

"I think we need to take that chance," said Weir. Her eyes shone with anticipation. "This is part of the reason we came here. I think we'll come much closer to understanding the Ancients because of this."

Earth McKay sat down, unwrapped his scarf from his neck, and set it down on the seat next to him. He touched the keys, and played a few scales. "It's chromatic," he said, half to himself, then louder, "like a piano, but the black keys are some how built into the main keys." He played a run of liquid notes and cocked his head to one side. "The tone is something like an organ, but I don't know where the pipes would be. The sound seems to come from all around."

He bit his lower lip and played something else, then smiled. "Here, you'll all recognize this." He played the first trill of Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, and then the loud, building chord that filled the amphitheater with sound. The rest of the team watched transfixed at Dr. McKay as they'd never seen him, his face full of a single-minded concentration, as his mobile hands played the interconnected running notes of the various lines of the organ piece.

Atlantis McKay stole a look at the Sheppards, who couldn't seem to tear their eyes away from the Earth McKay. Earth Sheppard in particular had a look on his face McKay had never seen, at least not with such intensity: longing, love, admiration, and perhaps even a little awe. The younger Sheppard licked his lips and to look at Atlantis Rodney for a moment, and their eyes caught a little too long during the drama of the final notes of the piece.

Next, Earth McKay launched into the "Little Fugue" in G minor, which started out more playfully than the Toccata from before. Atlantis McKay pulled his attention away from the music for a moment and saw a sickenly familiar distortion in the air beyond the bowl of the amphitheater. He motioned to the Major.

"Wraith!" yelled Major Sheppard. His team fanned out around the scientists, but even as they moved into defensive positions, as Dr. McKay finished the final major notes of the Fugue, Atlantis McKay saw that there were far too many Wraith for them to counter. A few Darts circled in the distance, but it seemed a Wraith army came toward them on foot. "Why are they doing that?" Sheppard muttered half to himself. "They could have scooped us up without us noticing.

"I'm getting some really strange readings," called out Atlantis McKay. "It's like a jamming signal, but—I don't know yet. I need more time."

"Time is one thing we don't have," said Atlantis Sheppard. "We have to go back through the gate! There's too many of them between here and the jumper, and I don't know if I can get back and pick everyone up in time." He turned to Atlantis McKay. "You'll have to make a run for it."

"There's no DHD," said Atlantis McKay. "All there is, is the piano."

"Then play something!" yelled Major Sheppard at the McKays.

Earth McKay stood up from the bench, with his hands shaking and terror written on his face. "What should I do?" Atlantis McKay shoved him over and sat down.

"There are gate symbols on the keys, that has to mean something," he yelled over the rising noise of the wind. He punched in the six keys that would take them back to Atlantis.

"That's Paganini," said Earth McKay excitedly.

"That's great, but it's not doing anything." In the distance he could see the cones of rippling air that indicated Wraith ships overhead. "I'll try to pick you up in the jumper!" Earth McKay turned as if to follow, but Atlantis McKay pushed his shoulder back down. "Play it," he said. "Maybe that will activate the gate. The jumper can't get to the right angle to activate the gate in this bowl without opening itself up to heavy fire."

McKay sat down but his hands seemed frozen. His Sheppard came over to stand behind him and after a worried look around, leaned down and whispered something in McKay's ear, and squeezed his shoulder. McKay nodded nervously, but whatever Sheppard had said had composed him somewhat. "I don't even like the piece," he said, sounding lost, "and it's arranged for violin." But he started playing, first tentatively, and then with more confidence.

Atlantis McKay looked at his tablet again, which showed a power fluctuation in the air that did not have any obvious source. A Wraith dart that had been circling the field in a narrowing orbit suddenly shuddered and dropped out of the sky.

When Earth Rodney completed the first variation, the chevrons started to slide into place, and after the third variation, the gate had opened. Earth Sheppard dragged him bodily up from the bench and hauled him toward the gate. They made it through just ahead of the jumper.

"Shield!" yelled Earth Sheppard as soon as they and the jumper came through.

Earth Rodney was a little unsteady on his feet when they came through the gate, and his Sheppard had to help him up. "Oh my God, I feel like shit. I need to sit down. I need some coffee. I'm really cold? Is it really cold in here? I need to sit down."

"He's in shock," said Carson when he met them in the bay.

"I didn't go into shock after my first time in combat," said Atlantis McKay.

"I thought you fainted, Rodney," said Carson.

"That was different," protested Atlantis McKay.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." Earth McKay took a deep breath and a couple steps forward. "This is what you deal with all the time? No wonder you're so jumpy."

"Me?" squeaked the other Rodney. "I'm not jumpy. I need to go."

"This Dr. McKay needs to lie down," said Carson.

"I'll get him to our room," said Earth Sheppard.

"Thank you. We'll call you when we need you." Dr. Weir crossed her arms over her chest.

"When we need them?" mouthed Dr. McKay. "We need them?"

"The conference room, now," commanded Dr. Weir. "What did you find, Dr. Zelenka?" she asked once they had seated themselves.

"The remote gate's energy fluctuations are decaying." Zelenka wiped his brow. "There will definitely be an opportunity to get them back in a few weeks, but after that, I am not sure. I have an idea—it is possible that the intersection of the two realities is causing the disturbance, but I do not have any proof."

"Does anyone else find this as weird as I do?" asked Dr. McKay. He looked around the table. Everyone shook their heads.

"No, I don't think anyone finds this as weird as you do," said Major Sheppard seriously, but McKay could tell he was being mocked.

"Fine. We send them back at the next opportunity, before they cause any more trouble." He exchanged a glance with Sheppard.

"Not so fast," said Dr. Weir. "We have to go back and get that instrument."

"I'm sure the Wraith have destroyed it by now," said McKay.

"It withstood ten thousand years of exposure; maybe it could withstand a Wraith attack. Or maybe they left it, because it has a beacon that alerted them to our presence. Either way, we need to find a way to get it back here to Atlantis."

"Why, Dr. Weir? It's just a toy, albeit a very cool toy and a very different DHD from any I've seen, and I've seen a lot, but it's not worth risking our lives for."

"Dr. McKay, you came out here for the science and the weapons, Dr. Carson came for the alien physiology and to keep the team healthy, but I came here to learn more about the Ancients, and we have a whole team of xeno-archeologists and –anthropologists who came to learn about their culture and the relics of the civilization they left behind. One of my professors in undergrad told me that you can learn far more about a culture by what it does for fun than what it does for work. You have all the weapons and Ancient science you can handle, and yet still we risk our lives to acquire more. Isn't it worth risking our lives for this? Something that tells us not just what the Ancients did but who they were?"

"Uh, wow, well, when you put it that way . . .," said Dr. McKay.

"And we need all four of you to help get it. I believe they came here for a reason, and this is that reason. Major Sheppard, please devise a mission plan for retrieving the instrument. Dr. McKay, you will study the photographs and schematics and see if you can find a way to make it portable, and also to disable whatever Wraith signaling device is built into it."

"Why do we need the other Sheppard," asked the Major. "McKay, I can see—he can play the instrument, but me—him?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I think that the other McKay may need him there, and that is reason enough. In any case, I'm sure he can shoot straight. Put a gun in his hand, and let him act as backup." Sheppard held her gaze for a moment, and Elizabeth frowned. "I thought you were okay with this."

"Look, I'll take all the backup I can get," said Sheppard. "But they don't belong here."

Three. "I think I've found something," said Dr. McKay into his headset. He looked at his watch and noticed the time: close to three in the morning, when most of the base would be asleep. He grimaced, but if Weir did not want to be disturbed she could have left her radio off.

"What is it, Rodney?" asked Dr. Weir. Her voice sounded tight and tired, but not sleepy.

"I was picking up some strange power readings when the Wraith arrived back on the planet. At first I thought it was some kind of Wraith weapon we hadn't encountered before, but now I think that it might be caused by the DHD itself—the instrument."

"Some kind of shield?" suggested Weir.

"Quite likely. What's strange is that the other McKay is the one who caused it to work. He doesn't have the ATA gene. It doesn't make sense."

"It must not be keyed to the gene then."

"Well, of course not. But why would the ancients build a device that anyone could use? Doesn't that defeat the purpose?"

"All the more reason to bring it to Atlantis to study," said Elizabeth.

"It might have some kind of weapons capabilities after all," said Rodney. He could not keep the happiness from creeping into his voice.

Elizabeth sighed, but all she said was: "Understood."

"There's something else," he added. "I'm not sure we'll be able to take it back to Atlantis. That shield came from all around the amphitheater, just like the sound. I think that the instrument itself would be useless, or at least diminished, without whatever is built into the landscape. Like taking the organ keys but leaving the pipes."

"We have to try." She paused and Rodney turned back to his work, but a moment later Rodney heard her voice in his ear again: "Rodney, is there any information on this in the database?"

"No, none of the data sources we have access to tell us anything about Ancient musical instruments—it's all science and technology, and a hell of a lot of information on ascension."

"Get some sleep," she said. "We'll know more once we go in person."

***

"You like it here, don't you," said Earth McKay when they returned to their temporary quarters. Someone had moved another of the Ancient pallets into the room and set it up next to the other, as a makeshift double bed. The Atlanteans had not been much for decoration; Rodney thought when he looked around. John sat down on their bed, and Rodney sat down behind him, hoping to pull him into an embrace, but John sat rigidly, almost at attention. "You want to stay." He looked at John, and his face, which had appeared calm and welcoming a few hours earlier, now seemed closed.

"They're doing something here," he said. Rodney put a hand out to John's shoulder and felt the tension there. "I didn't expect to come back alive from Afghanistan," he said after a moment. "And then I thought they'd send me to Iraq. Instead I spent my last three years at McMurdo, and when that was over, the brass suggested that my time was done." John heaved a big sigh, then. "It seemed best." He turned around and kissed McKay. "They won't let me stay here either," he said. His eyes searched Rodney's face.

"I don't want you to stay either," he said after a moment. His voice sounded whiny to his ears, so he took a deep breath and began again. "I love you and I want you with me." He licked his lips nervously and looked down away from John's eyes. "I don't even know if this matters to you, but even though I want you to come back with me, I would forgive you for staying."

John smiled at that, and Rodney noticed for the first time how this and all his other smiles had an edge of deep sadness in them. "It matters to me," he said. "I didn't know you had it in you, Rodney." His tone regained some of his flirtatious mockery. "You can be awfully selfish."

"Well, compared to the other one . . ." Rodney said.

"I much prefer you." John leaned in and nibbled gently at Rodney's lips. Rodney moved in response, and wrapped his arms around John. He felt as though he were touching him for the first time, again, or maybe it was the last. He wanted to memorize everything before John took it away from him: John's permanent stubble under his hands, his hard back, and soft lips. He kissed down the side of John's neck—this was easier than talking. If he said anything else, Rodney knew, he would lose all his dignity and beg John to stay with him. Better just to touch him, for now.

***

Atlantis McKay woke in his lab to the gentle pressure of Dr. Weir's fingertips on his shoulder. "Rodney," she said, "the team is leaving in an hour. Do you have everything you need?"

"Oh yes," he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "I'll have everything down to the jumper bay in fifteen minutes, just as soon as I get some coffee." He spun around on his lab chair, and saw the steaming mug in Elizabeth's hands. He gave her what he hoped was a winning smile.

"Just don't get used to it," she said, and turned to leave.

"'Course not," he called after her.

The jumper made it without problems to M3X-777. Rodney's Earth counterpart was silent during the trip, although he noticed that the man looked much better rested than he felt. He sat close to Earth Sheppard, and although they said nothing to each other, they passed little looks and touches that made him swallow hard and look away. He turned to watch Atlantis Sheppard, who piloted the jumper with his customary ease, his hands deft on the controls.

"Stay in the jumper until we need you," commanded Atlantis Sheppard when they landed. The gate site was at they had left it, with the gate organ in the bowl of the amphitheater.

"Any sign of Wraith?" asked Atlantis McKay. Sheppard looked down at his life-signs detector shook his head. "Okay," continued Atlantis McKay, "I've been working on a signaling device that jams passive Wraith transmissions, so if this instrument activates a Wraith homing beacon when it's played—well, this should prevent anything from getting through."

Major Sheppard directed half of his marines to guard the jumper and the rest to cover him and Atlantis McKay as they made their way to the instrument. McKay fixed jamming device to the column that held up the keyboard and activated it. "Should we test it?" asked Major Sheppard.

"If you mean, should we find a Wraith homing beacon and activate it, well, that's why we're here, isn't it? We'll just have to hope." Rodney glared at Sheppard.

"Fine," he said. "I hope you're right. I'll radio the others." He tapped on his headset. "This is Sheppard, come in." After a moment: "You did teach them how to use the radios right?" he asked Rodney.

"Of course I did." Rodney gave him another withering look.

"And they understood?"

"'Did they understand?' They understood. He may not have as many degrees as me, but he still has my natural intelligence, I think he can handle a radio. And both versions of you do seem to have a brain under all that hair, even if you try to hide it." It was Sheppard's turn to give him a look.

"I can't reach any of my men either," he said.

"That must mean the jammer is working. If our radio signals can't get out, then this device can't signal the Wraith either. Now, please, let me work."

As Rodney suspected the power pathways from the keyboard fed down into the earth. He scanned the ground around the gate, and found a fine network of Ancient wires and conduits under the ground, covering an area roughly the same as the bowl that both gate and organ stood in.

"There's no way I can take this with us," he said after double-checking the readings and turning the shield back on. Sheppard frowned at him. "I can't! The instrument is not just this panel, but the entire field. If Weir wants anyone to study this, they'll have to do it here."

"Didn't you scan it before?" asked Sheppard.

"Before, if you'll recall, everyone was too distracted by my double's amazing musical ability." Before John could say anything else he continued. "This thing generates an energy field that must have interfered with my readings, otherwise I definitely would have picked this up."

"Should we call them over here?"

"I think so. Playing it might be the only way to discover what this instrument is really for, besides the obvious. I just can't believe that the Ancients would key a musical instrument to a gate if it didn't have some other purpose. The energy it generates is unlike anything else I've ever seen. If I can find a way to replicate it, it might give us a new way to protect Atlantis."

Sheppard nodded, and motioned for Rodney to turn off the jamming device. "This is Sheppard. Bring Dr. McKay over here."

"This really isn't getting any less strange," said Atlantis Rodney as he watched them walk over. He stole a glance at Major Sheppard, expecting to see him roll his eyes or make some other familiar gesture.

"No, it isn't."

"I need you to play something," said Atlantis McKay. He guided his counterpart over to the bench. "Start with the Toccata and Fugue in D Minor again, so we can compare it to last time."

"You know it?" asked Earth McKay, looking pleased. "I mean, you know the name of it?"

"I gave up playing," said Atlantis McKay. He opened his mouth to say something else, like, "I never gave up loving music, not ever, not even after my parents sold the piano." He used to listen to Bach's great organ works in his bedroom, late at night, on his headphones while the rest of the house lay silent. He gave up playing, knowing he could do other things, but he could never give up listening. Instead he said nothing. Atlantis Sheppard looked at him oddly, as if he knew McKay wanted to say more.

Earth McKay flexed his fingers and again played the resounding opening chords. Atlantis McKay looked down at his tablet—the readings showed again the same energy fluctuations as before, this time even more powerful. The music sounded slightly different from before also, and he noticed deeper harmonics, as if the very earth beneath him resonated with the music.

"That was different than last time," he said, after the final notes faded away.

Earth McKay smiled. "Yes, well, it's been a while since I played the organ, but this is remarkably similar to an Earth organ. I wasn't sure at first, because I didn't see any foot pedals, and there is only the one set of keys—pipe organs often have a double or triple keyboard to control different kinds of pipes, and a full complement of sustaining pedals."

"And?" prompted Atlantis McKay.

"This instrument has them too, but they seem to be controlled by intention, rather than a different keyboard. See, if I play this wanting the sound of a metal pipe, that's what I get, but if I want a woodwind . . ." As he spoke the character of the note changed as he described.

"A lot of Ancient technology responds to the thoughts of whoever is using it," said Atlantis Sheppard. "Why would this be any different?"

"Because he doesn't have the gene, is why," said Atlantis McKay. "It shouldn't be responding to him, at least not like this."

Atlantis Sheppard shrugged. "Well it is," he said.

Rodney sighed. "Play something else," he said. "Ave Maria? I haven't heard that in so long."

"Schubert or Gounod?" asked the other McKay, then he shook his head slightly, as if at some private thought, and bent himself back to the instrument. Atlantis McKay heard to first few measures of Schubert's Ave Maria, and blinked back tears that had inexplicably formed in his eyes. He coughed slightly and looked back at the readout on his tablet. The energy signature was completely different but still came from everywhere, and danced in patterns that echoed the high, stately beauty of the piece.

"It's not really meant for organ," said Earth McKay a little apologetically when he finished. The woods that ringed the natural amphitheater seemed to be bent down to hear whatever he would play next.

Atlantis Rodney breathed in and out for a moment to steady himself, and then said quietly: "I think I should try it. It might respond differently because I have the Ancient gene, or not, but it would be worth knowing." He looked up at Atlantis Sheppard, who nodded gravely. He looked worried, and Rodney wondered for a moment, if Sheppard knew how much this would cost him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Major Sheppard asked. Rodney met his eyes for a moment and nodded. He handed the tablet to Sheppard and sat down at the bench after the other Rodney stood up.

"I'm just going to go back to the jumper," said Earth McKay. He looked hard at Atlantis Sheppard, who looked back quizzically.

"I'll go back with you so you can get in," said Atlantis Sheppard, with a confused note in his voice. "Hold down the fort," he said to the other Sheppard.

"I'm not sure if I remember anything," said Atlantis McKay, half to himself.

***

"He won't want me listening," said Earth Rodney as they walked back. Tentative chords came out of the ground around them and then settled into a slow, measured version of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Rodney smiled to himself. "Or you."

"How's that?" asked Sheppard. Earth Rodney gave him an amused glance.

"I think you know," he said. "He probably hasn't touched a piano in twenty-five years. Have you ever played an instrument?"

"I have a guitar," said Sheppard. "Mostly good for getting girls." He grinned a little, but it did not reach his eyes.

"Then maybe you can't understand how naked it makes you, to play in front of someone you . . . respect, whose opinion matters to you." Earth Rodney stopped for a moment when they cleared the lip of the bowl, near where the jumper was parked. "But I think you do understand."

Sheppard gave a non-committal grunt, and uncloaked the jumper. "I think we've been here long enough," he said. "Let's pick up the others." He made a few hand signals and marines melted out of the trees around them and fell back to the jumper.

They lifted off smoothly—Rodney enjoyed the feeling—so different from the controlled violence of taking off in an airplane. "This is a great way to travel, isn't it?" he said, running his hands over the smooth metal of the inside hull.

"It has its perks," answered Major Sheppard. He piloted the craft back into the bowl as a readout flashed up on the front window. "Wraith," he said. "I wonder why Rodney's transmission jammer isn't working." A Wraith dart flashed overhead, and McKay threw himself back into the recesses of the jumper.

"Can they see us?" he asked. Sheppard did not respond. "Tell McKay to play something—he said that's what generates the shield against those things."

Earth McKay edged back to the cockpit of the jumper again, and looked down. A Wraith dart bore down on John and the other McKay.

"No, you don't," said Sheppard under his breath. A cone of distorted air formed under the Dart, and McKay put his hand to the glass, just as it passed over John and Atlantis McKay. When the Dart flew away again, he looked down, and they were gone.

***

Atlantis McKay woke up in the horrible blue black darkness of a Wraith cell with a vicious headache. "I hate being dematerialized," he said to the empty air. He looked around his cell and saw Earth Sheppard curled up on the floor, his eyes closed. McKay went over to him and pressed his fingertips to the big pulse in his neck. He felt Sheppard's heartbeat jump against them and breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing in the cell to guard against the creeping cold, so Rodney took off his jacket and put it over Sheppard's still form. That seemed to relax him somewhat, and he stirred a little in his stunned sleep.

He still looked uncomfortable, curled up on the floor like that. Rodney looked worriedly at Sheppard again and sat down cross-legged behind Sheppard's head, then eased it into his lap. Rodney must have dozed there, because when he looked again, Sheppard had turned over on his side and wrapped his arms around Rodney's knee, as if it were some awkwardly shaped teddy bear. With his face relaxed in sleep, he looked exactly like the Sheppard Rodney knew on Atlantis, the lines of a few extra years smoothed away.

He reached out to touch the Sheppard's hair but thought better of it, and patted his shoulder again. This time Sheppard rolled onto his side and looked up into Rodney's face. "Thank God you're here," he said. "I thought maybe they'd gotten you." Then his eyes went wide and he jumped to his feet, and just missed cracking his head on Rodney's.

"You're the other one," he said. "Where are we?"

"Near as I can tell, on a hive ship," said Rodney. Sheppard took a look out of the door and then pulled on it, hard. "They took our weapons," he continued, "and they're probably coming to eat us."

"So this is the enemy," said Sheppard.

"This is our enemy, yes," said Rodney.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that the Wraith may still be blissfully asleep in your reality." Rodney jutted his chin at this Sheppard, so like the one he knew. "It means this is not your fight."

"Since they captured me," said Sheppard, "I think it is my fight. How did we get here?"

McKay explained as much as he knew about the Dart technology. "As much as it pains me to admit this, the only thing we can do is wait for some kind of rescue. Anything else will just get us killed faster. They probably want some kind of information out of us; otherwise they would have cocooned us."

"Torture, then?" said Sheppard with grim relish. He started to pace back and forth.

"Yes, and you don't have to sound so pleased about it. You must be really bored back on Earth, or you'd be panicking right now, just like me."

Sheppard frowned at him. "I panic?" he asked, wrinkling his brow.

"Well, no you never panic. That's usually my department."

"I don't want to wait to be rescued."

"Or tortured," added McKay.

"Or tortured," agreed Sheppard. He paced around the perimeter of the cell again. "Next time they come in, I'll jump them, and you make a break for it."

"Oh, you'll jump them, will you? With what? You've never faced a Wraith, Sheppard—they are stronger and tougher than any human, and we are totally at their mercy."

"You don't seem to like me very much," said Sheppard. He glared at McKay.

"Why did you even come here?" Rodney asked.

"Oh, you're blaming me for this?"

"You stepped through the gate, you dragged the other McKay away from a great life to come here. You just stepped off into the unknown, like you always do. You know, Major, risking your life is great, when there's some purpose to it, but this was just like jumping off a cliff to find out how far it is to the bottom."

"I'm not a major any more," said Sheppard quietly.

"I know," said Rodney. He sighed and rubbed his head. "You're just—you're exactly like him. Always rushing off into danger, I bet, without thinking about how everyone else feels about it. What was so wrong with your life on Earth?"

Sheppard stepped in close enough to Rodney that he thought the man might punch him. "It wasn't . . . enough," he said after a tense moment.

Rodney backed away. "It wasn't enough. I'm not enough, you mean. The other me." He heard the defeat in his voice.

"It's not about you—him. Why do you care anyway?" Rodney looked away. "You're in love with the other Sheppard," Sheppard said. He stared into Rodney's face until Rodney was forced to turn and look at him.

"I don't know! Maybe I am!" he said. "If I am, it certainly doesn't carry over to you." Sheppard smiled that sarcastic smile that often met Rodney's scornful remarks. "Maybe I just want to know what makes the other me so unlovable. Between the two of us, he seems like the better option," said Rodney with a short laugh.

"Why don't either of you realize it has nothing to do with you?" said Sheppard quietly, half to himself.

"I think it has a little to do with me—with him. At the risk of sounding like a cheap paperback, if you really loved him, you wouldn't have made him come here." Sheppard drew his eyebrows together and inhaled sharply, but before he could say anything else, the doors of the cell slid open and a cadre of Wraith walked in.

***

"We have to get them back!" said Earth McKay to Elizabeth when she met them in the jumper bay on Atlantis.

"I heard you the first twelve times," growled Major Sheppard.

"What happened?" asked Dr. Weir. Sheppard gave her a quick recap.

"Luckily, McKay uploaded all the readouts from the instrument before they were captured. Maybe Zelenka can figure out something from this." He tossed a tablet at Radek.

"Dr. Weir?" said Zelenka, questioning.

"Go, try to figure something out. Maybe if we know what the instrument is for, we can figure out why it draws the Wraith and how to get Dr. McKay back." Zelenka went to his lab, and Sheppard and McKay went into Elizabeth's office.

"We'll do everything we can to get them back, Dr. McKay," said Dr. Weir. "Rodney is very important to the survival of this base, although we try not to tell him that too often. I'd like you to go rest in your room until we need you. Zelenka may need your musical expertise, depending on what he finds in Rodney's readouts. Please keep your radio on. Can you find your way?" Earth McKay nodded mutely, and walked out.

Back in the room he lay back on the bed, and turned out the light, but could not sleep or even close his eyes. He kept seeing the strange visual distortion from the Wraith Dart out of the corner of his eye, like the beginning of a migraine. Please not that, he prayed, I need to be alert, in case they need me.

He must have slept though, because the next thing he heard was Dr. Zelenka's strong Czech accent saying "Dr. McKay, please come down to the lab." He sat up and looked around the unfamiliar room, and remembered where he was.

"It was Dr. Weir who figured it out," said Zelenka proudly. Rodney looked from Dr. Weir to Dr. Zelenka and back again. Elizabeth had a triumphant smile playing on the edge of her lips.

"Did you get them back?" he asked. Elizabeth's smile quickly faded.

"No," she said. "We sent a team to wait on that world in case they come back."

"That's it?" asked Rodney. "In case they come back? What if they don't? This is a whole galaxy, isn't it?"

"Please, Dr. McKay," said Elizabeth. "The Wraith have some special interest in that instrument, and we think they may have captured Rodney because he was playing at the time."

"What Dr. Weir means is, the instrument is a different kind of gate," said Zelenka.

"Dr. McKay's records indicate that Ancients built it long before the Wraith became a threat. So we looked back further in the database. It seems as though the Ancients built it as a sort of test for sentient beings. If they could play, and their music was accepted, they would be granted permission to come to Atlantis, or any of a thousand other worlds the Ancients inhabited. That's why it doesn't require the ATA gene to operate—it did not respond any differently when our McKay played than when you did. Actually, it responded better to you, probably due to your musical ability. It is a kind of artistic gate keeper," said Elizabeth. Rodney found himself interested despite his worry for Sheppard.

"Two things, there are, that make the gate operate," said Dr. Zelenka. "As long as someone plays, a shield prevents anything from coming up to the gate, except people. But to dial the gate, they must play the right sequence—the key."

"And," continued Elizabeth, "they must play with sufficient artistry to pass the test."

"That's why it opened for Paganini, but not Bach," said Rodney. "The Toccata and Fugue in D Minor must not contain a key." He paused, and something clicked into place in his mind. "Or it does contain a key, but . . . wait a second, what if it determines ‘artistry' by playing variations on the gate theme? What if it looks for the human capacity to invent on top of the key? That's why it only opened the gate after I played the variations on Paganini—three variations. But why should it call the Wraith?"

"Because the Ancients built it at a time when they still hoped the Wraith would come into full humanity, and find a way to leave their animal origins behind. The database is full of speculations about whether they could find a way to turn their ingenuity toward something other than the quest for food. This ‘gate organ' is a lure," said Elizabeth.

"Yes, in the signal it outputs is a call, for other beings to come and be tested. Because of Wraith's telepathy they feel it very strong," said Zelenka.

"They may not even know why they are called—Dr. Zelenka thinks the pull would be nearly irresistible," finished Elizabeth.

"So we need to go back, and play it again . . . Sam," said Major Sheppard from the doorway.

"Funny," said Rodney acidly. "I've never heard that joke before. When do we leave?"

"We?" said Sheppard. "You don't seem like the rushing-into-danger type?"

"Major," said Elizabeth. "I don't want you getting captured as well. Dr. McKay will go and play something, and then I want you cloaked by the time they come. If they see you there . . ."

"I got it," said Sheppard.

This time they came through the gate into the planet's night. "What are you going to play?" Sheppard asked while the Marines scanned the area for Wraith.

"Grieg's Piano Concerto in A Minor—you'll probably recognize it." He stuck his lower lip out. "It's what I was rehearsing when I met . . . John. Maybe it will bring him back to me." He looked at Major Sheppard, daring him to say something, or to laugh.

"It can't hurt," said Sheppard.

"What do you think is happening to them, up there?" Rodney gestured up through the jumper's window at the starry night sky.

"The Wraith are probably letting them cool their heels for a while," said Sheppard. "Rodney's probably complaining that he's going to have to save everyone, again." Sheppard smiled slightly, fondly, to himself.

The marines were out of earshot, so Earth McKay decided to chance saying something. "You like him more than you pretend. You two would be good together," he said. Sheppard did not say anything but started to smile and shrug. "Better then we are on Earth. You go into battle together. You save each other's lives. He can follow where you want to go." He waited for a moment. "I notice you're not protesting that you like women," he said with a half-grin.

"I do like women," said Sheppard, putting emphasis on each word. "I just--,"

"Sir!" said one of the marines into the radio. "Everything is clear."

"I'm not sure how it will sound on the organ," said Rodney conversationally as they walked down the grass slope in the dark. There was no moon, but the stars were very bright. "But I have a theory about this instrument. If I want it to be a piano, rather than an organ, I think it just might respond."

When he sat down at the bench, Sheppard said, "I'm just going to take a look around while you play. Your playing should keep the shield up, in case the Wraith come early."

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Major Sheppard," said Rodney, looking right into Sheppard's shadowed eyes. "I perform much better with an audience."

***

The Hive Queen's interrogation felt like a weight pressing against him on all sides, squeezing his brain, his lungs, and she had not even asked a question yet—this was just the warm-up. She forced Rodney slowly to his knees, controlling his descent so he felt off-balance even as the Queen's power held him up.

"Why did you call us?" she asked in a sibilant voice, with double harmonics echoing in his brain above and below her words. She hissed at the ceiling. "Why do you continue to call us?"

"Don't tell her anything," said Sheppard from across the room. Two guards with blank face masks pinned his arms behind his back.

"Thanks for the advice," Rodney tried to snap back, but it came out thickly through the crushing weight of the Hive Queen's will pressing in on his own.

Sheppard looked as worried as Rodney had ever seen him, or maybe the Earth version did not hide his fear quite as easily as the Atlantis one—less practice. "We didn't call you," said Rodney, desperately. He could feel cold sweat inching down his forehead, and he tried to shiver but the Queen held his body too much in thrall for even that small movement.

"He doesn't know," shouted Sheppard. The Queen made a small gesture and Rodney collapsed over on himself, curling around his bruised insides. She stalked over to Sheppard, and ran a fingernail along the curve of his jaw. Rodney looked up to see him shudder and flinch and try to pull away, but her power caught him too.

"And you do," she murmured.

"That's right, I do," said Sheppard with a confidence that Rodney knew to be false.

"Excellent, we will hurt the other one until you tell." She hissed again. "I will feed."

"Great, just great," said Rodney with a hint of a whimper. "Oh God." He started babbling before the Queen's power gripped him again. "If you get out of this, tell them I died on my feet." John started to speak, but Rodney didn't give him a chance. "Tell Zelenka that there might be a geothermal solution to our power problems, but it will destabilize the planet, so only use it as a last resort. Tell Elizabeth . . ." He shook his head. The pressure was starting to build again behind his eyes. "Tell Major Sheppard I—I'm sorry I couldn't save the day this time."

Dark fireworks began to occlude his vision, his eardrums felt close to rupture, and he felt his knees hit the floor again, when suddenly, and without warning, the sensation stopped. His vision cleared and he saw the Hive Queen with her mouth open and head thrown back. Hearing returned a moment later and he wished it had not, when the Queen screamed as if to rip open the hull of the ship with her voice.

"How are you doing this?" she cried.

Rodney did not have a chance even to try to frame an answer, because the next thing he felt was the shock and creeping cold of a Wraith stunner blast, and consciousness left him completely.

He woke up again with a cool, moist breeze against his face, and the scent of woods and wildflowers around him. He opened his eyes to see the bowl where the gate stood lit only by star-shine. Now, the field was filled with Wraith Darts and Wraith foot soldiers trampling the grass. He sat at the base of the gate organ, with his back supported by the strong bulk of Sheppard's and their hands manacled together at the wrists.

"Can you move?" he whispered. He felt Sheppard's head tilt back and touch the back of his.

"I think so," Sheppard said.

One of the Wraith guards came by and hauled them to their feet. "Destroy it," he said, pointing at the instrument. "Destroy it or die."

"I thought we were going to die anyway," said Sheppard. Rodney felt his back straighten.

"You have to untie us then," said Rodney. "I can't work with my hands behind my back." The guard pulled a knife and ran it down between their arms to cut the ties, when the Wraith's head flew back like rag doll's and he collapsed on the ground.

"Think that's the cavalry?" asked Sheppard.

"I sure hope so," answered Rodney. Sheppard bent over the downed Wraith, bending Rodney over backwards in the process, and retrieved its knife and its stunner. He made short work of their bonds, and ran over to the woods near where the shooting had been coming from.

They sat in the woods beyond the lip of the hill and Sheppard picked off a few Wraith with the stunner. "It hits higher than you think it will," said Rodney helpfully. "It works best if you hit them in the chest—more likely to affect their entire nervous system that way." Sheppard did not seem too annoyed by the advice, and nodded tightly. Rodney could see bursts of machine-gun fire coming from among the trees.

***

Major Sheppard leapt out of the jumper when the first Wraith Darts whined overhead. He handed Earth McKay a gun, with strict instructions not to shoot unless he had to. Rodney tucked it nervously into his pocket, after checking three times that the safety was on. Of more interest to him were the IR goggles. He peered out into the night at the green fireworks down on the field and back at the cool darkness of the forest. Then he saw two figures sitting together alone, and tugged on Sheppard's arm until he turned and saw them also.

Sheppard told his team to go grab them with a few hand motions, then wiped off the sweat from his forehead and looked down into the bowl again.

"There are too many of them," he said over the din. "Zelenka said that the instrument will shield us from any Wraith technology." Rodney nodded. "You have to play," he said.

Rodney shook his head and tried to say something, but words wouldn't come. "Shooting! They're shooting," was all he could manage.

Major Sheppard turned to face him and took hold of his shoulders. "It disrupts all technology besides Ancient. We'll be safe as long as you are playing." Rodney raised his hands, which were shaking. He fought hard for control, but panic rose up from his back-brain and overwhelmed all conscious thought. "What do you need, so you can do this?" asked Sheppard forcefully. Rodney looked up at this Sheppard, so like the one he knew, but so alien.

Sheppard hesitated a moment, glanced around, and then kissed him. It felt like home, like everything he remembered, John's lips soft and hard by turns, his lower lip begging to be caught between Rodney's teeth. For a short moment, Rodney could not hear the gun fire or feel the flashes of heat from the Darts' blasts. Then Sheppard pulled away and the chaos of battle filled Rodney's ears and vision again, but now his feet had come unstuck from the ground.

He heard Major Sheppard yell something like "cover us", and he took Sheppard's hand and ran into the field, between the tall stalks of grass wet with dew that refracted the bolts of light. He did not wait to sit down or stretch his hands or gather his thoughts, but put his fingers on the keys, and played something he had always wanted to play, a sad theme from a lonely childhood, a dark theme from a lonely adulthood. A question in his mind that had never been asked now took form as his thoughts and fingers met the keyboard.

"I don't hear the applause, not until it's almost over," he had said, and now he did not hear the silence that grew around them, as the battle stilled, and the Wraith engines shuddered and died. The silence met the sound in that cool bowl of earth, and even the stars seemed to rest in their motion through the heavens. He held what he would one day note as a fermata in the score for a half a beat too long, and heard the silence only as it started to end, as engines fired back to life. He started to play the next theme in his head as the jumper swept down the hill, skimming over the grass.

Even as he played he dimly noted the gate dialing, and he felt strong hands grab him under the arms and haul him toward the jumper, and before he could blink again, the cool light of Atlantis shone on him again.

He was dazed for a moment, but then he noticed it was Sheppard, his Sheppard, who helped him up and out of the jumper. He looked at the fine sprinkling of grey hairs around his temples and the lines around his eyes that extended just a little further than the other one and threw himself into Sheppard's arms with relief.

***

Atlantis Sheppard helped Rodney out of the jumper, and he winced as he felt the pins and needles from the latest Wraith stunning still attacking his feet. Their Earth counterparts already stood on the floor of the gate room, and Rodney watched as they embraced, as if they were the only two people in the room. The marines turned away, either embarrassed or to grant the pair privacy, and so did Elizabeth, but Rodney stole a glance at Major Sheppard, and saw him watching them as well, with a bemused expression on his face.

They disengaged and Elizabeth walked down the stairs. "I have Dr. Beckett standing by in the infirmary," she said.

"I'm alright," said Earth McKay.

Elizabeth nodded. "Glad to hear it."

"What about me?" said Rodney. "I'm the one who was captured by the Wraith, and let me tell you, that was no picnic . . ." He trailed off.

"I'm sure everyone could use some rest." She turned around and walked up the stairs.

Atlantis Sheppard tilted his head to one side. "You look like hell, Sheppard," he said to his double. "I'll help you get to your room." Atlantis McKay and his double walked behind. Earth Sheppard walked gingerly, with that pained step that Rodney associated with the after effects of a Wraith blast.

"You can massage his legs to help with that," suggested Atlantis McKay. Earth Rodney dragged his feet a little and let the Sheppards go on ahead.

"He kissed me," said Earth Rodney, sotto voce. "I thought you might like to know." He gave the other McKay a sad smile, and shook his head.

"Huh," said Atlantis McKay as they reached the guest room door.

"Are you really feeling okay?" asked Major Sheppard after their guests had settled back in, and they had walked out to one of Atlantis's piers to look out over the ocean.

"Well, it's not like getting hit with a Wraith stunner is exactly fun," he gave Sheppard a glare. "But I'll live." Sheppard made an indistinguishable noise. "So," continued Rodney, brightly. "I hear you kissed me."

"I can't wait ‘til those two leave and I can stop having conversations like this," said Sheppard. Rodney could hear a low growl of tiredness in his voice. "I thought it might relax him so he could play that last piece."

"Oh," said Rodney. He knew he sounded disappointed, so he added, "Anything for the mission, right?" In for a penny, in for a dollar, he thought, and continued. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Rodney," said Sheppard. "It was the middle of a battle."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"It turns out that you are good at that, too. At least the other you is."

Rodney stole a glance at Sheppard, who was looking resolutely out over the water. "I never expected to get such a close look at the road not taken. It's not easy to forget. Especially when it's sleeping just a few doors away. With—,"

"Yeah, I know who with." Sheppard had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

"Hey, I thought this didn't bother you. You know, we're never going to hear the end of it, even after they go back."

"That's why I wasn't letting it bother me."

"Good advice. Easier said than done." Rodney started massaging his neck to try to get some of the tension out of it.

"Look, just because they're, you know, doesn't mean we have to . . . you know," said Sheppard.

"I never said that," said Rodney sullenly. "I wasn't even implying it. Don't worry, I'm not about to throw myself at you. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."

John wrinkled his forehead in that phony quizzical look Rodney knew so well. "You're not?" he said. Rodney shook his head slightly, confused. "That will make this much harder."

"This? What?" said Rodney.

"This." John leaned forward and brushed his lips against Rodney's, more a question than a kiss. Rodney kissed him back helplessly, his mouth open and begging for John's to come closer. John didn't pull away but wrapped his arms around Rodney's waist, and Rodney felt for a moment as their doubles must have when they reunited, as though they existed apart from Atlantis, everyone, in a bubble of time and space all their own.

"What now?" said Rodney when they pulled apart.

"Now?" said Sheppard. "Now, you look like someone should put you to bed." He raised his eyebrows mock-innocently. Rodney echoed the expression and felt the side of his mouth rising in an answering grin.

"What if someone sees us?" Rodney asked.

"It was the other guys," suggested Sheppard as he opened the door to his room.

Sheppard's chamber was as bare as any of the others, but it had his smell in it, his dirty shirts draped over a chair, his extra dog tags on the dresser. Rodney felt John's hand on the small of his back as he looked around the room and then Sheppard turned Rodney to face him again. He started to pull off Rodney's shirt.

"Shouldn't I get the lights?"

"No," said John.

"Oh, okay." He started to touch John's back, his arms, pulling his head down for another kiss. "I haven't done this in a while."

"It's like riding a bicycle," said John. He had taken his shirt off, and Rodney ran his hands up his flat torso, over the fine hairs on his chest. He felt John's nipples tighten as he ran his palms over them.

"Like riding a bicycle, eh?" Rodney gasped on the last syllable as John kissed his neck. The scratching of John's chin made a tantalizing counterpart to the shock of sensation that went like a lightening bolt, straight from the skin of his neck into his crotch. Rodney found his initiative, and started undoing the buckle of John's belt. "If you fall off, you just get . . . back . . . on?" he asked as John pushed him down onto the bed. John pulled off his pants and Rodney's, and licked and kissed up Rodney's side, delivering a sensation that was half tickle and half delight.

Rodney did not want to stop him, couldn't bear the thought of ending this, but still he sat up and said, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, I'm sure," said John, sounding aggrieved. He didn't pull his hands away from Rodney but drew one up the inside of Rodney's leg so he shuddered involuntarily, and his already hard cock ratchetted up the tension another notch. "This isn't a big hardship for me. I just didn't think you had any interest until the odd couple showed up, and you started acting all weird."

"Really?" He looked at John's shining eyes, wet lips, and, well, obvious interest, and realized what a stupid question that was.

"Yes, really," he said with finality. Rodney bit his lower lip, then thought he could be better occupied biting John's. This time he didn't hesitate, but drew Sheppard close to him. He felt their skin touch from shoulder to knees, warm and growing hotter by the minute. He curled his hand around John's cock, feeling it jump and thicken in his hand. Then John pulled gently away, leaving Rodney momentarily bereft, but he moved down to the bottom of the bed, and kissed up the inside of Rodney's leg starting from the knee, finding all the places on his skin that were responsive. His hands were busy where his mouth wasn't, one cupping Rodney's ass, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin in the cleft between, and one circling his balls.

Then he put the head of Rodney's cock into his mouth, swirling the tip around with his tongue. Rodney tried not to thrust up with his hips, to get that feeling over more of him, but John seemed to read his mind and pulled him in further. John's mouth felt unbearably hot and tight around him, and Rodney gripped the sheets in his sweaty hands, as John used lips and tongue.

"Oh God, now, yes," he moaned, trying to give John some warning as he started to come, faster than he wanted to, but John just held on, pulled Rodney deep into his mouth, licking and sucking on him through the aftershocks. Finally John sat up, touched his swollen lips with his fingers, and looked at him, eyes big, questioning. Rodney felt another surge of the lust he'd just had satisfied.

"I think I can do at least that well," said Rodney, when he found his voice again, with a goofy smile he couldn't suppress.

"Are you saying that wasn't good?" asked John as he flopped down next to him.

"You set a high bar, my friend, but I think I'm equal to the task." He leaned over, licked John's nipple, and then bit it just hard enough to hear him moan. "You be the judge."



Coda.

A week later the gate energy was right to send Sheppard and McKay back to their Earth. Zelenka had figured out a way to calibrate the moment they walked through so they should arrive within a few hours of leaving. Rodney had argued and berated Zelenka for thinking that time travel was so simple, but conceded that they might never know if it was actually successful.

Rodney and Sheppard stood above the gate room and watched their doubles walk into the gate. "What do you think?" asked Sheppard. "Do you think those two crazy kids will make it work?"

Sheppard stood a little too close to him, and the proximity made Rodney feel pleasantly warm. "I don't know, Major," he said loud enough for everyone else to hear and then under his breath: "He thinks his Sheppard will leave him again. That he can't resist the abyss."

"What do you think?" Sheppard asked the question lightly, but it was pregnant with meaning.

"I think he's right. But I think he'll hang on for the ride."


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