"Stranded" by Kylie Lee (bloody challenge)

[kylielee1000]

Title: Stranded
Author: Kylie Lee (kylielee1000)
Category: Slash
Pairing: Beckett/McKay
Rating: Adult/NC-17
Archive: Ask first.
Challenge: Blood
Beta: thegrrrl2002
Spoilers: 1.01-1.02 "Rising," 1.03 "Hide And Seek"
Summary: McKay doesn't have the gene. Beckett does.

Stranded

John Sheppard sighed. "You do realize that some people would kill to do this."

"I can't control the bloody thing," Carson Beckett said. He was clutching the jumper's controls so hard that his knuckles were white. To Rodney McKay, seated in the copilot's chair, he looked terrified. "Remember my setting the bombs after you in Antarctica? Do you perhaps remember that?"

"Distantly," Sheppard admitted. "But you've got the gene, we need more pilots, and you've been elected. Whoa, watch out."

The jumper lurched as Beckett overcorrected. Teyla and Ford, in the back, made noises of protest. Through the window, the Stargate in orbit around the planet they'd just visited seemed to tilt crazily, but it was just their orientation as they looped toward it. The inertial dampers kept them from noticing that they were spinning.

McKay, who was mostly just hanging on, resisted the urge to say anything, because Beckett really did get quite nervous, and the more nervous he got, the more likely it was something horrible would happen-like the bombs he'd released in Antarctica when he'd tried out the control chair, or that time in the infirmary when he'd tried out a piece of tech that he thought was a medical device but had turned out to be a very loud, scary automated floor polisher that had zoomed all over the level, scattering people while turning out a lovely, dust-free floor, until Sheppard had figured out how to turn it off. It was certainly annoying, though, that people like Beckett had the gene, and McKay himself did not. Beckett had given him gene therapy, and although now he could work some of the equipment, he didn't have the ease with it the way Sheppard did, or that Beckett would have if he would just-

"Stop panicking!" he snapped, annoyed, as the jumper did another jig.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Beckett gasped. He was sweating.

"Dial it up, Dr. McKay," Sheppard ordered, calm as always. "Focus on stability, Dr. Beckett."

"Stability," Beckett repeated as McKay quickly punched in the coordinates for Atlantis. "Aye, stability."

McKay glanced up as the Stargate hove nearer. He loved the rush of blue as it activated. He loved the way it looked, hanging in space, the surface of the event horizon like water dancing with ripples. He did not love the way they were approaching, too fast and barely in control, but he knew Sheppard would take over at the first sign of real danger. It had been Sheppard's idea to have Beckett fly them back instead of McKay, so he could get the practice, and they so rarely had Beckett with them on missions.

"Easy," Sheppard crooned. "Good work, Doctor. When you get in close enough, it will automatically pull us in. It'll center us and we'll shoot right through. You just need to release it."

"Are you quite certain-hadn't you better-"

"And here we go," Sheppard said implacably, and the ship suddenly leveled out as it oriented itself perfectly with the opening of the Gate. McKay relaxed as the Gate took control. The blue kissed the front of the ship. McKay dissolved into the blue and white, and when he could see again, everything was black. The jumper, velocity suddenly cut, shivered to a stop, and when the scraping noise ceased, everything was eerily, completely quiet.

There was a shocked pause.

"Bloody hell," a voice said with feeling. "You see why I should not be permitted around the Ancient's equipment. You do see that, don't you Major?"

"I'm beginning to," Sheppard's voice said, calm and even, so McKay knew he was pissed.

"But no, you wanted me along on this mission," Beckett continued. "Trade medical services for food, Carson, it will be fun."

"Hey," McKay said, because he was the one who'd convinced Elizabeth Weir, and then Beckett, that Beckett should come along on this reconnaissance mission.

"Aye, fun." Beckett's voice was bitter. "Poking at wee ones, a fine time. Certainly I enjoy getting out and about. But I doubt this is what you had in mind. And dare I ask-have I gone blind, or is it just dark?"

"It is just dark," Teyla said, and McKay squinted at where her voice came from, to be rewarded by a dim light and movement: Teyla herself, carrying her lighter aloft, the flame flickering as she moved, Ford a shadow behind her. "Is this Atlantis, or are we somewhere else?"

"Good question," Sheppard said.

McKay got up. "Teyla, hold the light," he ordered. "There should be some flashlights in this cargo bin-and here we are." He clicked one on. "Seems to work."

"Here," Sheppard said, and McKay handed it to him. While McKay passed flashlights out, Sheppard peered out of the window, deploying his light. "Okay, no, we're not at Atlantis," he reported. "I guess that's good, right? It's not destroyed or under attack or something."

"So where are we?" Ford asked.

Sheppard shrugged. "Hard to say. It's dark out there. Judging by the surface of the floor, I think we're in a cave or something."

"Is a Gate behind us?" McKay asked.

"I can't see. Probably. Did you misdial?"

"I think it very unlikely," McKay said.

"Thank you for your support, Rodney," Beckett said. "Could it have been alien intervention, or a mechanical glitch, or someone on that last planet tampering with the jumper?" He held up a hand, sending light swinging. "No, wait, don't say it. You think it very unlikely. Which must mean it's my fault."

"Carson-" McKay started, but Beckett rolled over him.

"Certainly I'm willing to accept the blame, particularly if it means I can stop flying these ships. If I had wanted to be a pilot, I would have gone to pilot school. But no. I went to doctor school. To learn to be a doctor."

"Pilot school?" Sheppard repeated.

"Power's totally out," McKay said hastily. He indicated the inside of the ship by flashing the light around. "No air recirculation, no lights, no nothing."

"It is very quiet," Teyla said. She tapped the flashlight she held. "Dr. McKay, this flashlight does not work."

"Neither does mine," Ford reported. He reached into the cargo bin and pulled out another one.

"Here, take mine," McKay said, handing his to Teyla, and as her fingers closed around it, the light flickered and died. "Okay, that's weird. Hand it back here." She did, and it came back on. "The batteries of this one must be running out," he said, because now the light was dim and yellow instead of strong and white, as it had been a second ago.

"They can't all not work," Ford said, futilely pushing the button of the flashlight he held. He tossed it into the bin and pulled out another.

"Here, let me," Beckett said, taking a flashlight from Ford. He shook it hard and flicked it on. "It works. Lieutenant, hand me that other one."

"It didn't work a second ago," Ford said, mystified. "What, you need to shake flashlights now?" He shook the one he held, and McKay heard the click of the switch as Ford flipped it. "Or not," Ford added.

"I'm going out," Sheppard said, undogging the door at the back of the jumper manually. It slid down slowly and jerkily. "I really, really need to know if there's a Gate behind us."

"I'll come with you," Beckett said, setting the flashlight he'd just turned on his now-empty seat, angling it so that the light splashed against a wall and diffused. He set up another one on the copilot's chair. The half-light cast crazy shadows as people moved around. "I got us into this mess, after all. I take full responsibility. Don't let me pilot ever again. I'm sure you'll admit that it's not worth the trouble."

"I'm right behind you." McKay followed Sheppard and Beckett out. In the bad light, he must have misjudged the doorway's width, because he knocked hard against it and stumbled as he exited, and to his annoyance, Beckett, the person who had gotten them into this mess, steadied him. It was a cave all right, dank and low-ceilinged, as caves tended to be, and although the air was moist and smelled a little off, it was air. It was too dark to see much. McKay stood with Beckett on the slight incline of the ramp. McKay could see Sheppard's flashlight bobbing. He could barely make out the shape of a monumental circle as the light played around, and then the light headed back.

"We've got ourselves a Gate and a DHD," Sheppard confirmed, coming back into view. "They're a couple yards thataway. Not much else to see." He called, "Teyla, Lieutenant, come on."

"That's odd," Beckett said, and McKay turned to see Ford in the doorway, arms extended, clearly leaning his full weight on nothingness that kept him inside the jumper. "That's quite odd, don't you think?"

"Odd is an understatement." McKay pointed. "Look. He's talking."

Sheppard reached in and poked Ford in the chest. "There's nothing there," he said, puzzled, as Teyla joined Ford. She too seemed to be stopped by an invisible wall. She leaned over and said something to Sheppard, her mouth moving, but no sound came forth.

"It stops sound as well as their movement through the door," Beckett said.

"I can see that." Sheppard stepped back inside and the three of them conferred. All McKay heard was silence.

Beckett said, "There must be some kind of force field keeping them in."

That much was obvious. "But letting us out?"

"The gene, you see."

"Oh," McKay said as light dawned. "The flashlights! Mine lost power. See? It's all pale. And I had trouble getting out of the jumper. I thought I knocked against the doorway really hard."

"That makes sense. Your gene isn't natural; it's the product of gene therapy."

"But I've been able to work machinery at Atlantis."

"Mostly," Beckett corrected. "And here, 'mostly' seems to matter. I think this place must somehow realize that your gene isn't native. The real question is, what kind of place are we in where only those with the gene are welcome?" He sighed. "And I spent all those hours drawing blood and testing for the presence of the gene. Now we can just bring everyone here and hand out torches. It'll save loads of time and trouble."

"Very funny."

Sheppard pulled back. "Okay, they can't get through," he said. "They can see us but they can't hear us. We figure we should go ahead and dial out."

"There's no power in the jumper," Beckett pointed out. "What makes you think the Gate works?"

"Rodney?" Sheppard said, and McKay said, "On it," and headed for the DHD. He knew it wasn't going to work the moment he pressed the first chevron and nothing happened, but he entered all seven characters and pressed the "engage" button anyway.

"Nothing," he yelled over his shoulder. He played the light of the dying flashlight over the console. He hated to ask for help in this matter, but he did it. "Carson? Can you come over here and enter the address? You have the gene." He stepped aside but kept the poor light trained on the DHD as Beckett, his shoulder bumping McKay's, entered the address, but again, nothing happened. "Great," he told Beckett. "This is just great."

Beckett nodded. "Let's tell the major."

"No power," McKay told Sheppard when the jumper was in view again. "We'll have to dial out manually."

"How do we do that?" Sheppard asked.

"We attach it to a power source and spin the big circle as though Vanna White were egging us on," McKay said. "Would you like to buy a vowel?"

"Power source?" Beckett said pointedly.

"Well, yes, that could be a problem," McKay admitted. "I could jury-rig the jumper's engine."

"But the technology isn't working," Beckett said.

"Maybe it will once someone with the gene touches it, or maybe it will once it clears the dampening field or whatever it is. We can try, anyway."

Sheppard cut in. "Teyla and Lieutenant Ford?" he reminded them, pointing at their dark figures. "They're trapped in the jumper."

"We fetch a bunch of burly men with the gene, and they just push the jumper through the Gate," Beckett suggested.

McKay nodded. "That would actually work," he said.

"It's a terrible plan," Sheppard groused. "It involves leaving people behind."

"We'll come right back," McKay pointed out. "The worst they'll be is bored. They have food, water, and toilet facilities."

"Must you use the engine?" Beckett wondered. "Is another power source available?"

McKay pondered. "Life support is routed through a system with a separate power source," he said. "You're right, Carson, it would be better not to use the engine."

"Because life support is so much less important," Sheppard said.

McKay shook his head impatiently. "If the engine comes back online, it would be far easier to move the jumper if the engine were intact. And then we move it to Atlantis, which has plenty of air, and which is just a few yards away."

"A few yards and a bunch of light-years."

McKay shrugged. "So you're saying you want me to use the engine? Fine."

"No, no, no." Sheppard gave in. "You're right. Use life support."

"I'll have to go back in the jumper and get it, plus cables and things," McKay said. "Give me a few minutes to check out the Gate and see what I need."

"I'd better go along with you," Beckett said. "Either me or Major Sheppard."

It rankled. Of all people who really needed to have the gene, McKay did, and it drove him insane that he didn't have. It was a mere accident of birth, he reminded himself; having the gene was neither good nor bad, as Beckett always said, but rather a simple biological fact. It was true, but it didn't make him feel better.

"Good idea," Sheppard agreed. "I'll remove the life support power unit."

"Fine," McKay said, resigned. "Come on, Carson."

Beckett followed him, his bright, strong flashlight sweeping the ground ahead of them, whiting out the pathetic rays of McKay's light. The Gate loomed above them, rising out of the ground, its top just a few inches from the ceiling of the cave. "Okay. Now, I've studied manual start-ups on Gates in our galaxy, but Pegasus Galaxy ones are a little different. I should be able to run in a power source here." He knelt near the base. "Carson, shine the light here. Closer." He felt Beckett's leg against his side, and Beckett leaned down. "Good. Thank you." He worked with total focus, identifying the hookup site and noting the nodules that he could hook cables to, as though he were jump-starting a car. He spoke only to direct Beckett to pull something, or push something, or shine the light someplace specific. It didn't take long-about fifteen minutes. When he was done, he nodded and said, "Okay, got it. Let's head for the jumper." He took Beckett's offered hand and stood up. "Whoa. My leg's asleep," he said, staggering into Beckett when he tried to put weight on it.

"Easy," Beckett said in concern, steadying him, and McKay let Beckett hold him up.

"I'm fine," he said. "It's just-I'm fine. Give me a second." He made no move to step away, and neither did Beckett. They stayed that way, Beckett's arm around McKay, until it had gone past friendship, past politeness, until Beckett squeezed a little and McKay turned to face him, so their chests brushed. It was too dark to see. "I can walk now," he said, because his leg no longer tingled. Instead, the tingle seemed to have moved to his stomach. Beckett said, "Good," and still they didn't move, and just as McKay, a little light-headed, put his hand on Beckett's waist, Sheppard called, "Rodney, got an ETA?" and they stepped apart, and the moment-whatever it was-ended, and instead of saying, "Carson," like he'd been ready to, he said, "Yeah, be right there."

He wasn't thinking very clearly when he reentered into the jumper, because his thoughts about dialing up the Gate had gotten mixed up with his body's desire to relive that suspended moment with Beckett, to figure out what it meant-although he knew very well what it meant, and he needed to think about that too. He'd been on the verge of not thinking, of stepping into Beckett's arms, of leaning in, of-

McKay stumbled over the power unit Sheppard had stuck in the middle of the cockpit's floor. "Good," he managed. "I see you had no trouble getting it out intact."

"Good thing it's pretty small," Sheppard said. "I'm not sure how we'd lug it out to the Gate otherwise."

It was brighter inside than when McKay had left because someone, obviously Sheppard, had turned on what was probably every flashlight in the jumper and had scattered them everywhere. He'd even dangled some from the ceiling. The light rocked crazily when McKay accidentally bumped one with his head.

"I'll, uh, I'll need some cables," he said, looking away from Beckett, because that's where his eyes wanted to rest.

"Over here," Sheppard said, jerking his thumb, and McKay followed him.

He found the proper cables immediately. He stuffed them into a backpack, along with a bottle of water and some ration bars, and picked up the toolbox. "Can someone carry the power unit?" he asked.

"Got it," Sheppard said immediately, picking it up.

"Just set it by the Gate," McKay called as Sheppard headed for the ramp.

"I take it I'm on torch duty again?" Beckett asked.

"If you don't mind."

"I feel a wee bit responsible," Beckett admitted. "Standing with a light is the least I can do." He turned. "Will you two be all right?" he asked Ford and Teyla.

"We're fine," Ford said. "The light really helps."

"This may take a while," McKay warned them.

"It's okay. Wish we could help."

"I'll send Major Sheppard back soon." McKay turned to follow Beckett out, but instead, he hit what felt like a plate-glass window. "Wow," he said, reeling back, surprised and a little stunned from the impact. "That hurt."

"Are you all right?"

McKay shook off Teyla's concerned hand. "Fine," he said. "Why can't I get through?" He set the toolbox down, extended an arm, and walked forward slowly. An invisible wall stopped him. "Great," he said. "Just great. And of course I'm the only one who can dial the Gate manually." He saw Beckett turn and say something, but he couldn't hear him. In response, he ostentatiously leaned against the force field, and eerily, Beckett walked in right beside him.

"I see that you're not allowed out any longer," Beckett said. "Just one moment." He stepped onto the ramp, and McKay watched, bemused, as he soundlessly yelled and Sheppard soundlessly jogged up, and the two of them walked through the nonexistent wall that was keeping McKay propped up. "Rodney, can you tell us what to do?" he asked.

"Sure, and we can play gossip while we're at it," McKay snapped. "I say something to you, you say it to Major Sheppard, Major Sheppard does it. How…safe."

"All right, bad idea," Beckett said.

"More like a recipe for disaster," McKay said. "And I need to figure this out as I go. It's not like I'm absolutely positive how to do this. Is there even a point to me getting out?"

"The only way out is out there," Sheppard reminded him.

McKay sighed. "True. But how's the power generator? Is it generating power?"

Sheppard hesitated. "I don't know."

"Well, go turn it on, gene boy, and let's find out," McKay said.

"Fine." Sheppard turned on his heel and left.

"Perhaps we can get Dr. McKay through," Teyla said tentatively.

"How?" McKay asked.

"The therapy Dr. Beckett gave you means that your gene expression isn't as strong as theirs. Perhaps its strength can be temporarily boosted."

"I don't have any syringes of it with me," Beckett said.

"I was thinking of something more direct," Teyla said. "Blood."

"Blood?" McKay said, startled.

Beckett raised his eyebrows. "It's worth a go," he said. "I think you're probably not expressing proteins as you ought-the markers they generate are perhaps not common enough in your blood. Where's my doctor's bag? Here we are. Rodney, if you'd just give me your hand."

"Wait!" McKay said as Beckett took a cap off a small-headed scalpel.

"Yes?" Beckett said. McKay recognized that tone of voice. He'd used it on the recalcitrant children yesterday, down on the planet.

"I'm right-handed."

"Then give me your other hand."

McKay reluctantly switched hands. "Forearm," he urged. "Don't cut my palm. I want to be able to flex my fingers." He tugged his sleeve up.

"Right." Beckett unwrapped something and swabbed first McKay's arm, then his hand. "Here we go." Before McKay could protest again, Beckett laid the scalpel down. The cut didn't hurt much-the result, McKay thought, of the fineness of the blade. In the strange light cast by the flashlights, the blood welling up looked more black than red. "Very good." With a quick movement, Beckett used the same scalpel to cut the palm of his own hand. It somehow struck McKay as wrong that Beckett used the same blade, even though Beckett immediately clapped his hand over McKay's forearm. McKay felt blood spread. There was really no point, he thought faintly, in sterility in a case like this. "About five minutes, I think, and I have to keep the wound open." He rubbed hard. "Like that."

"Ow," McKay said feebly.

"Just enough to fool the door one more time," Beckett assured him. "Then we don't let you back in. Teyla, love, if you could just take this scalpel and place in that container there-? Thank you."

"Isn't blood a biohazard?"

"Yes," Beckett said. "But as your physician, I happen to know that both of us are free of disease. We are perfectly healthy. This poses no health risk."

"Good. That's good."

"What about me and Teyla?" Ford asked. "Should we have this done to us too?"

Beckett shook his head. "It would do no good," he said. "Even in Rodney's case, it's just a temporary boost, and it's a long shot. It may not work."

"Long shot. Great," McKay muttered. He gave Sheppard a false smile as Sheppard entered.

"Do I want to know?" Sheppard asked, taking in the tableau in front of him.

"Blood," Beckett said, lifting his hand enough to show Sheppard the cuts.

"Oh, I get it." Sheppard nodded. "Will it get him through the door?"

"We'll know soon enough," McKay said as Beckett rubbed again, sending pain through his arm. "Okay, five minutes? That's forever." He glanced up at Sheppard. "Did the power unit go on?"

"It did," Sheppard affirmed. "I set it by the Gate."

McKay felt incredible relief. It meant they could get out of here. All he had to do was prep everything for the manual dial. "I figure I can hook everything up, and then have you or Carson do the final bit and the powering up, just in case."

Sheppard nodded. "That works."

McKay suddenly felt light-headed. "Carson, can we maybe sit down?"

"Certainly."

The only good thing about those five minutes, McKay decided, was Beckett's touch. The grip Beckett kept on his arm was a firm, professional pressure interspersed with pain, but their legs pressed together. Sometimes their eyes met, and Beckett would hold his gaze and give him a half-smile. Around them, Teyla, Ford, and Sheppard talked quietly, apparently unaware of the heat between the two men sitting on the floor. When Beckett broke the professionalism of his touch to gently caress McKay with his thumb, McKay felt it through his entire body. He no longer felt the pain when Beckett rubbed away the clotting blood, because the pleasure of the intimate, secret touch flooded him. He was actually surprised when Beckett said, "All right, time's up," and lifted his hand. "Let me just bandage this." He cleaned his own hand first, followed by McKay's arm, and then affixed white gauze. "I want you to keep it clean," he ordered McKay, tugging McKay's sleeve down.

"Are we ready?" Sheppard asked.

"Let's give it a try," McKay said. "Major, can you take the toolbox?"

"Do it quickly," Teyla advised as McKay paused at the back of the jumper.

"Lead with your left arm," Beckett ordered.

The first time he'd gone through, it had felt as though he'd stumbled against something immovable-he'd thought it had been the doorway. This time, it was like pushing through glass that somehow opened up excruciatingly slowly to let him pass.

"It's hard," he gasped. "I feel pressure. But it's letting me through."

"Let's try this," Beckett said, and before McKay could figure out what he meant, he felt Beckett's arms circle him, coming to rest on his chest, and Beckett's body pressed against his. Then suddenly he staggered forward and lost his footing, and he huffed out air first when he hit the ramp, and next when Beckett landed on top of him.

"Heavy," McKay managed. He turned his head, and Beckett's face was right there, his breath warm on McKay's cheek. He felt Beckett's stubble brush his cheek. He didn't want Beckett to move. He wanted the weight on him, holding him down, pinning him.

"Sorry," Beckett said, and he shifted and moved off.

"You two okay?" Sheppard asked, strolling down the ramp.

McKay didn't look at Beckett. He was afraid that if he did, he might blush. "I am not going back in there." McKay stood up. "All right. Let's get started."

What had seemed to easy when he didn't have equipment proved a much different case now that he did. He tried every permutation of power-source hookup he could think of, plus a few that he thought wouldn't work, and he proved himself right: they didn't work. He would set everything up, Beckett would do the final hookup to the power source, Sheppard would turn it on, and nothing would happen. McKay kept saying, "It should have worked the first time." He even taught the hookup sequence he was convinced was correct to Beckett, whose fingers proved more dexterous than Sheppard's at fine movements, probably the result of his profession, in case his own touch was tainted with the bastard gene, but that didn't work either.

"I don't get it," he said at last. "It should work."

"Look, we're all exhausted," Sheppard said, which was true. "We put in a full day's work before we ended up here. Let's catch some sleep and try again in, say, six hours."

McKay shook his head. He was so close. He was missing something, something obvious, and in a second, it would come to him. "I just need-" he started, but Beckett cut him off.

"A fine idea, Major. Rodney, you've lost your assistants."

"Just one more-"

Beckett continued speaking as though McKay were not there. "Major, could you fetch a sleeping bag for Dr. McKay, please?"

"If I could simply-" McKay began, as Sheppard said, "You got it."

"You'll have to sleep out here, I'm afraid," Beckett said cheerfully as Sheppard headed off. "I doubt you would be let out again."

"Carson-"

"Rodney, do shut up." Beckett clicked off his flashlight, leaving only the one he'd propped atop the toolbox, which illuminated the base of the Gate. "And I don't have any stimulants with me, so don't ask."

McKay, who had been going to ask, said instead, "Six hours?"

"Aye, that's what the man said." Beckett leaned against the Gate. "How's your arm?"

McKay blinked. "I'd forgotten about it," he admitted. "Fine, I guess. How's-how's your hand?"

Beckett extended it. "Fair enough," he said.

McKay took Beckett's hand and flipped it over. The bandage looked eerily white in the half-light. He touched it, remembering Beckett rubbing hard, contrasted with the gentle circling of Beckett's thumb along the underside of his arm. "Does it hurt?" he asked, stroking Beckett's palm along the periphery of the bandage.

"Aye," Beckett said. "But my torch-holding abilities remain intact. Very important, those torch-holding abilities."

"Crucial," McKay murmured, and Beckett's fingers closed around his hand. Beckett tugged, and McKay stepped close. He could sense Beckett's body, its size and bulk. He only needed to take one more step, and his body would be pressed along Beckett's.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Beckett started, and their fingers wound together. "But it can wait," Beckett added, and McKay let go and stepped back as Sheppard came up.

"Here you go, Rodney," Sheppard said, setting the tightly rolled sleeping bag down. "Sorry, we don't have any pads or pillows or anything. It's kind of cold and dank in here, isn't it?"

"I love camping," McKay said with false cheer. "Six hours. I'll just be out here. For six hours." Alone, for six hours, when being alone with Beckett had suddenly become the most important thing in the world. He wanted to know what Beckett had been going to say to him, because if Beckett didn't say it, McKay had something to say.

"We'll be out of here bright and early tomorrow," Sheppard predicted. "Get some sleep, Rodney. Coming, Dr. Beckett?"

"Aye, of course," Beckett said. "Goodnight, Dr. McKay."

McKay leaned down and grabbed the sleeping bag. He would use the empty backpack as a pillow. He didn't dare touch the flashlight that still lit the base of the Gate in case its light withered and died, so he walked off to one side, stumbling slightly on the uneven rock of the floor, seeking a place to make a bed that was far away enough from the Gate so the light wouldn't bother him as he slept, yet close enough so he could home in on the Gate if needed. When he found a spot that seemed pretty level, he took his shoes and jacket off and squirmed into the sleeping bag, then pummeled and rotated the backpack until he could lay his head down without getting jabbed by a zipper pull or a hard piece of plastic. He finally thought to cover it with his jacket, which helped a lot.

"Just great," he sighed, because he kept thinking about Carson Beckett, about that moment hours earlier when Beckett had steadied him, when they'd stood there, touching too intimately for too long to be explained by friendship, when they'd both known. He fell asleep wondering what Beckett would taste like, and he woke up to a body pressed against his back. The cold seemed to seep through the sleeping bag, leaching away his body heat. The side of his body lying on the ground was cold, but the rest of his him was warm.

"Mmm," he said sleepily as the body behind him shifted. "It's cold."

"Aye," the body said, and of course it was Beckett. McKay felt movement, and then he heard the quiet rip of a zipper. "I'm cold too."

"We should go back into the jumper," McKay said.

"You can't do that," Beckett reminded him, and a moment later, Beckett put his arm around him hitched close, and McKay realized that Beckett had undone the zipper of his sleeping bag so they could press together. "You may not be able to get back out."

"Oh, right," McKay said. It was hard to think clearly because he could feel Beckett's legs along his, feel Beckett's chest against his back; he could even feel the heat of Beckett's groin, warmer than the rest of his body, against his ass. He lay quietly, now wide awake, tense but trying to pretend he wasn't, as Beckett snuggled into him, and when Beckett sighed and relaxed, his hand brushing McKay's stomach, McKay felt himself harden. "Carson?" he whispered, because he knew what he wanted.

"Shh, man, go to sleep," Beckett murmured, advice at odds with what his hand was doing, which was tracing circles on McKay's stomach.

"I'm not thinking about sleeping-" McKay started, but he stuttered to a halt as Beckett's hand wandered down, cupped his hard cock briefly, then traveled back up, and before McKay could form coherent words, Beckett's hand fumbled at his pants, opening them, and then Beckett took him into his hand, pushing his groin into McKay's ass, and McKay could feel the warmth of Beckett's groin solidify into an erection, and all McKay could say was, "Oh, god, Carson, please."

It didn't take long. All the pent-up yearning for body against body, for release, for touch, mixed with attraction and desire for Beckett himself, breathing hard right by his ear. Beckett's hand jerked him off in smooth, hard strokes, and he came in a rush, suddenly unable to breathe. It was like going through the wormhole: the sharp dissolution of self, and the joy that followed as he went someplace new.

When he stopped shaking, he turned to face Beckett, pushed him onto his back, undid his pants, and took him into his mouth without preliminary. Beckett was uncircumcised. By touch alone, he pulled the foreskin back and caressed the head of Beckett's cock with his tongue before dipping his head, taking in Beckett as deeply as he could because he couldn't get enough of the taste, the musk. Beckett's slick penis slid in and out of his mouth, and he sucked hard, feeling Beckett tighten. Beckett came after just a minute or two, gasping a warning just before his cock jerked and flooded McKay's mouth with taste.

"Come here, Rodney," Beckett said, voice catching.

He tugged McKay up so they could wind their arms around each other, and McKay had always known what it would be like to kiss Beckett, what he'd taste like, what that little beard felt like, and what amazed him, as Beckett responded in kind, was that he'd been right. He murmured "Carson," and Beckett murmured "Rodney," and under his clothes, Beckett was warm and responsive. They touched and kissed and licked. Only the two of them existed, just like the timeless moment by the Gate, when Beckett had held McKay up, and those five long, eternal minutes when Beckett had mingled their blood, the pain of the cut mixed with pleasure at Beckett's touch.

The second time was only a little slower, and it grew out of their exploration of each other's bodies, out of their kisses. Suddenly Beckett was pushing insistently against him, his cock rubbing against McKay's stomach, and McKay grabbed Beckett's ass and held on as his own cock stroked Beckett's body, sending shivers of pointed pleasure through him, and McKay let it all go as they writhed together, trying to get closer and closer. Beckett made a little surprised sound when he came, and McKay came a second later, gasping, "Fuck," because it felt so good, so incredibly good. They clung together, sweaty and messy, whispering each other's names, their kisses growing quiet instead of desperate.

McKay was barely aware of Beckett cleaning them up. He wouldn't let go of Beckett's hand-his bandaged hand-at first. Beckett was only gone a minute, but while was gone, McKay felt the cold. When he fell asleep, he and Beckett were twined together, finally sated. If he dreamed, he didn't remember it. He awoke when someone shook his shoulder and said, "No coffee, but water and ration bars can be yours, and maybe a cookie, if you can get us out of here."

"Major," McKay said, rubbing his face.

"Your six hours are up," Sheppard said. "Dr. Beckett's already at the Gate. He said he'd give your setup one more go. His words."

"Start baking," McKay said, coming up onto his elbows. His sleeping bag was unzipped. "I'm partial to chocolate chip."

"That's what I like to hear."

"How are Teyla and Lieutenant Ford holding up?"

"All right, I guess. Ford is teaching Teyla how to play poker. I think they're bored silly. Come on, let's go."

McKay was about to scramble out when he realized his pants were undone. "I'll be there in a minute," he said. "I've just got to-you know. Visit the little boy's rock."

"Oh, right," Sheppard said. "See you over there."

It took longer to get ready than it should have, because his flashlight had completely pooped out on him, although it could really have been the batteries-it had been on for hours on end the day before. He didn't bother rolling up the sleeping bag. He stumbled his way back to the Gate as quickly as he could, because in the clear darkness of day, something had struck him.

"Any luck?" he asked, tossing the sleeping bag down in a heap and throwing the backpack on top of it. Everything looked exactly the same: darkness, cables, Gate, power supply.

"Not to speak of." Beckett stood up and wiped his hands on his legs. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, in fact," McKay said sincerely. "Really incredibly well. I have never had such a good night. I think caves agree with me."

"I'm pleased to hear it," Beckett said. "Major? Anything?"

Sheppard looked up from the power supply. "Nope," he said. "Dr. McKay, you only get the cookie if you get us out of here."

"I'm actually going to hold you to it, you know," McKay said. He knelt at the foot of the Gate. "I had a thought on my way over." He unclipped the cable and held it aloft. "If you do everything you can and it doesn't work, maybe it's not that you're doing something wrong. Maybe it's that a piece of your equipment is broken."

"Broken broken, or broken in a doesn't-have-the-gene kind of way?" Sheppard asked.

"Broken broken. So I want another cable." McKay handed it to Sheppard. "Can you get me another one just like this? Better yet, make it two."

"Sure. Be right back."

"So how did you sleep?" McKay asked Beckett.

Beckett sat down beside him. His leg pressed against McKay's. "I didn't get much sleep," he said. "I took a walk. And then when I got back, I didn't feel sleepy."

"That's too bad. How did you feel?"

Beckett put his hand behind McKay's head, his palm warm against McKay's neck. The bandage scratched his neck. "Excited," he whispered. "Happy. Alive. Awake."

"Mmm," McKay said, letting Beckett draw his head close so they could kiss. He had butterflies in his stomach, but they were butterflies of anticipation. "Should we-do we need to talk?"

"Absolutely," Beckett said, and this time, McKay kissed him. "I thought perhaps when we get home, we should talk in my room. With the lights on."

"Oh," McKay said, because he couldn't wait to see Beckett lying back on a bed, in color, all dark hair and soft skin and blue eyes.

"After a quick trip to the infirmary," Beckett added. "I want to disinfect and rebandage your arm."

"I'll probably be busy eating cookies," McKay said.

"I can offer you some scotch in my room, as a reward."

"Scotch and cookies. That sounds like a terrible combination. Plus, I have another reward in mind."

"I'm terribly accommodating," Beckett admitted.

"Oh, good."

McKay leaned in for one more lingering kiss before they had to pull apart. When Sheppard returned with the cables, Beckett was fiddling with the power supply, verifying that it still worked, and McKay was examining the icons he'd revealed when he'd opened the panel.

"You know? I'm not in the mood to take chances," McKay said as Sheppard held a cable out to him. "Carson? Can you run it one more time?"

"Aye."

McKay hovered over Beckett, blocking his light, as Beckett attached the cable and pressed icons in sequence, until Beckett told him to move. When Beckett rocked back, Sheppard said, "Here goes nothing," and flipped the power switch.

"Yes," McKay said fervently as a high-pitched whine sounded. He congratulated himself. He was indeed brilliant. It had been a bad cable all along. "Cookies will be mine. Major, move the power generator out of the line of fire. Let's dial."

It took a lot of physical effort to spin the heavy Gate manually. They were all sweating by the time they were done. McKay could feel the shudder of the Gate whenever a chevron locked. He had never stood so close to a Gate before when it initiated, and the sheer power of the blast as it punched through made his skin tingle.

Sheppard inserted his earpiece and sauntered to stand in front of the Gate. "This is Major Sheppard," he said. There was a pause, and then he half-turned to give a big thumbs-up to McKay and Beckett. "Dr. Grodin. Is Dr. Weir available? We've run into a snag."

McKay put his hand on Beckett's back and stroked. Beckett flashed a smile at him, the dappled light from the Gate illuminating his face.

"Elizabeth. Yes, we're fine. Listen, we're stranded someplace without power, and Lieutenant Ford and Teyla are trapped in the jumper. Long story. We dialed the Gate manually, thanks to Dr. McKay. I'd like to send Dr. Beckett and Dr. McKay through, then have Bates lead a team back. We'll need a crew of people with the gene, to push the jumper through the Gate."

"That was my plan," Beckett murmured.

"It's a very good plan. Practical."

"I thought so," Beckett said.

"I like the plan about the scotch, too."

"I have many other plans."

McKay grinned. "Good," he said.