***

Author's notes: This is set in the Pegaus_B universe, which is an AU where Daniel Jackson only joins the SGC as a member of the Atlantis expedition, and Jack O'Neill (who is still a Colonel), goes in place of Sumner (and survives the pilot). The rest of the SG1 and SGA characters remain the same.

Another difference here is that Rodney McKay and Jackson have been long-time on-again, off-again lovers, and Rodney recommended Daniel to go to Atlantis. Of course, soon after arriving in the Pegasus Galaxy, Rodney meets John, and Daniel meets Jack...

You can find out about the Pegasus_B universe here.

Winner! Best Series, Stargate Fan Awards

***

"Wait... wait... wait." Rodney was looking back and forth incredulously, from Carson's worried expression to the tiny bundle of buff-colored fur on the infirmary bed. "That can't be right. You're saying Daniel's been turned into a *monkey*?"

"I think it's actually a tarsier," John said. He rubbed the back of his head, then thought about how monkeyish the gesture was and whipped his hand back down to his side. Actually, he knew it was a tarsier-he'd looked it up a minute ago on Carson's laptop, using the networked database they'd brought with them.

Rodney just looked at him like he'd lost his mind around the same time Daniel had shrunk a few feet and grown a tail. John shrugged.

"Carson." Rodney all but grabbed the doctor's sleeve. "This isn't true. Tell me this didn't happen. Daniel... Daniel really isn't small and fuzzy and eating raw hamburger with barely opposable thumbs."

Carson just shook his head, looking stricken. "I cannae explain it," he said, and the thickness of his accent spoke volumes to how spooked he was about the whole thing. "But it's true-I've checked... the, ah, tarsier's DNA against Dr. Jackson's records. Except for the obvious differences-"

"-Which are pretty damn obvious!" Rodney burst out.

"Rodney," Elizabeth said quellingly. "Carson is trying to explain."

"Right," Rodney said tightly. He ducked his head, glancing at the tarsier and then away. "Sorry. Please continue." He sounded really shaken, and John was beginning to feel kind of bad.

"Right," Carson said. "Well... As I was saying, except for the obvious differences which would account for Dr. Jackson's current... state... the DNA is an exact match." He gestured at the tarsier, who looked at them all blandly with its huge, orange eyes, and licked its hands. "This is Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"Dear god," Rodney said. He rubbed his hand over his face, then looked at Carson with eyes that were big and blue and nearly frantic. "But... you can fix him, right? You can put him back the way he was?"

Carson spread his hands helplessly. "I don't know," he said. "This just happened...what, half an hour ago?" He looked at John, who nodded. "At the moment I've got no bloody idea what happened to him, let alone how to fix it!"

If anything, Rodney's eyes got a little wider, and John had to shove aside a stab of jealousy before Rodney whirled on him. "Well, what *did* happen?" He demanded. "You were in one of the unexplored areas of the city, right? Did you, did you touch something? Trigger something? What did you do?"

"Hey." John's eyes narrowed a bit. "*I* didn't do anything." He took a breath. He'd already explained this before-to Elizabeth and Carson, but Rodney hadn't been called to the infirmary yet then, and so didn't know what had happened. "We found what looked like some kind of lab or something. There were lots of machines with all kinds of writing on them. In Ancient." He gestured at the tarsier with his chin. It had gone back to scooping up the last bits of the hamburger and nibbling at it with tiny, delicate bites. "Dr. Jackson was very eager to check it out. I told him to be careful, but he must've touched something while he was translating it."

Rodney pounced on that, like John figured he would. "He was translating? What did he translate? Did he say what it did?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head, filling in for John. "Apparently Daniel got as far as the word 'transformation,' when he triggered the device."

"Yeah." John nodded solemnly. "There was this big flash of bright white light that kind of... enveloped him. And when it disappeared, there was the tarsier."

Rodney blinked at him. "Enveloped? Then, it's possible that Daniel could have been transported somewhere, right?" Rodney's expression was imploring, like he was begging John to agree, and there was just a little bit of guilt nudging into the jealousy, now. "Taken somewhere else and replaced with an imposter?"

Carson's voice was very gentle when he spoke. "It's very hard to fake DNA, Rodney."

"Yeah, for us!" Rodney whipped around to face him again. "But not for an Ancient!" He put the side of his hand to his mouth, staring at the tiny primate as if he could turn it back into Daniel by willpower alone. The tarsier looked up at him and blinked, then went back to cleaning its hands. "Maybe-maybe it's a trap, or something," Rodney said. "Or some kind of experiment-"

"Maybe it was a wish machine," John said. "Maybe he wanted to be a tarsier for awhile."

"What?" Rodney's eyes were so big they looked kind of like the Daniel-Tarsier, then he scowled. "Somehow I think 'getting zapped into a lower primate' wasn't all that high on his to-do list today." He turned to Elizabeth. "We've got to go back there, figure out what this machine did!"

Elizabeth raised her hand. "We do, you're absolutely right. But I can't have my people rushing back into that laboratory without knowing what they're doing, Rodney. I don't want to have anyone else turned into...a lower primate. Or anything else."

"I know what I'm doing!" Rodney insisted.

"What you're *doing* is freaking out," John said, and maybe that was partially the guilt, making him a little less than totally sympathetic, but it wasn't like Daniel was *suffering*, or anything. So he was small and fuzzy and eating hamburger on a bed. It kind of looked like fun. And John was privately certain he hadn't seen the archeologist so relaxed since they'd 'gated to the city. Even if Daniel wasn't technically an archeologist anymore, at the moment.

That earned him a quelling look from both Elizabeth *and* Carson, as well as pure venom from Rodney, but John didn't have time to defend himself before Colonel Jack O'Neill came stomping in, looking like he'd run all the way from the Jumper bay, which John was certain he had.

"Wing radioed me and said Jackson was injured," O'Neill said, going right for Carson. Carson backed up a step and John couldn't blame him at all. "Where is he? What happened?"

Carson glanced at the tarsier. "He wasn't... exactly injured, Colonel."

O'Neill's eyebrows shot up, then furrowed menacingly. "What do you mean, 'not exactly injured'? Where is he? I want to see him. Now!"

"Colonel," Elizabeth said, in her best calming-the-masses voice, "he's right here." She moved aside, giving an unobstructed view of the infirmary bed.

The tarsier turned its head right around on it's tiny body, staring back at O'Neill.

O'Neill gave the tarsier a long, steady look, then glowered at Elizabeth. "You're telling me Dr. Daniel Jackson is a monkey." He took a step towards her, exuding that dark-menace thing that John figured was a special talent of the truly tortured, and John was really glad to have no skill in, thank you very much. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke." Rodney's back had stiffened as soon as O'Neill entered the room, but he wasn't being cowed by the Colonel's "I could break you in half" attitude and John was pretty happy about that. "Daniel apparently triggered something in a lab he and Sheppard's team found, and... and got turned into a tarsier."

O'Neill turned to face Rodney, his expression the deliberate calm of someone trying very hard not to go ballistic. "Then, turn him back."

"We're working on it," Elizabeth snapped, not at all cowed either, which was very cool. "It's been less than an hour, Jack. And whomever we send needs to be briefed-I don't want anyone else going in there unprepared."

O'Neill's jaw twitched. He glanced at the tarsier, and then looked away, a lot like Rodney had, which John thought was interesting, though it didn't do anything for the jealousy that was still at least two to one on the guilt. Then O'Neill looked at him, probably having finally figured out exactly who he could blame.

John prepared himself to be grabbed by the collar, probably shaken until his teeth rattled.

"How did this happen?" And O'Neill was right John's face, crowding him, using his greater height to intimidate, exactly the way John had figured. And, yeah, there was O'Neill's fist on his collar-

"Right," Rodney sneered, "go Neanderthal on the major. That'll help. Sheppard's meant to be *psychic* now, so he can predict everything that could possibly go wrong?"

Oh, wow, but that just warmed John's heart, lit it up like fireworks. He would have grinned, except for the very angry Air Force Colonel who was still looking at him like beating John to a pulp might just solve all his problems.

"Jack--!" Elizabeth grabbed O'Neill's arm, looking both exasperated and concerned, "No one's to blame for this, Jack!"

O'Neill ignored her, of course. "He's meant to protect his team!" he snarled over his shoulder, mostly at Rodney.

"I told him not to touch it!" John said, because his collar was getting a little uncomfortable around his neck, what with O'Neill's fist twisting it. "He said he wouldn't, and then he did anyway!"

"Jack." And now Elizabeth's vice was ice-covered stone, and John was more than a little pleased that she was so adamant about defending him, as well. "He's not responsible for this. Let him go."

The tarsier leapt off the bed, onto O'Neill's shoulder, then used its furry little arms to climb onto O'Neill's head.

O'Neill let go of John automatically, staggered back a step, reaching for the Daniel-Tarsier on his head. He had probably been going to yank it off him, maybe throw it across the room, but his hands had barely touched the buff-colored fur before O'Neill stopped.

The tarsier wasn't hurting him. It was just... clinging. With one hand clutching O'Neill's ear, the other one with a fistful of the colonel's grizzled hair. The tarsier blinked its big orange eyes, as it seemed to get more comfortable. Hell, John was sure the critter was *smiling*.

"Daniel?" O'Neill asked. He very gently brushed a few fingertips along the tarsier's back.

"Oh, yeah," Rodney said sarcastically, though it barely concealed the concern that still laced his voice. "I'd say that was Daniel."

O'Neill turned back to Carson, moving carefully now, obviously not wanting to dislodge the tarsier. All the fury had bleached out of his voice, replaced by quiet fear. John almost felt bad for him, but that hiked the guilt up a notch, so he pushed that aside, too. "Is he okay?"

Carson seemed to consider that seriously. "As far as I can tell, yes, he's just fine. We'll need Dr. Patel to examine him properly-she's our veterinary medicine specialist-but he seems perfectly healthy. He's been eating and drinking..."

"So, he's okay," O'Neill repeated, maybe as much to hear the words again as to see Carson's confirming nod. "He's not... pissed off by this, or anything. Freaked out."

"I think he's happy," John said, but O'Neill ignored him, and Elizabeth shot him a look and John shut up.

"We'll find out how to turn him back as soon as possible," Elizabeth said gently. "I'll call a meeting right now and form a team to go back to that room." She put her hand on O'Neill's arm. "I promise we'll get Daniel back."

O'Neill just nodded carefully. He was still stroking the tiny furry back. "I'll take care of him," he said, "until we can reverse this. I'll keep him with me."

"Of course," Elizabeth said, like what O'Neill said made any kind of sense. John thought he saw Rodney roll his eyes. And for some reason that made his heart light up again.

"Good," O'Neill said. He gently pried Daniel-Tarsier off his head, moving it to his shoulder. The tarsier settled there like it owned the place. Which, John figured, it probably did. Or at least its full-sized, less-hairy counterpart. With glasses.

"All right," Elizabeth said on an exhale. "Rodney," she looked at him. "I'm going to need you and the best members of your team for this in the briefing room." She turned to John. "I want you there too. Ten minutes. Go."

"Going." Rodney gave her a quick nod. He shot one last glance at the tarsier, and strode out.

John gave Elizabeth a nod as well, then followed Rodney, trotting until he was walking alongside him.

"He's going to be okay, Rodney," John said. "You know you'll figure out how to un-tarsier him."

Rodney glanced at him. "Your optimism is heartwarming, Major. I just wish it had any basis in reality."

"Rodney..." They had reached the transporter, and John slapped it open. It was empty, and he grabbed Rodney's arm, hauling him inside. As soon as they were both in he shut the doors, but blocked Rodney from hitting their destination.

"John!" Rodney sure looked angry. "We've got a briefing--!"

John hugged him. Rodney froze for a second, then hugged him back, wrapping his arms around John and holding on tight.

"I'm really scared," Rodney said quietly. "He's my best friend. What if I can't turn him back?"

"He's gonna be okay, Rodney," John said. And, yeah, the fact that Rodney had said 'best friend' and not 'lover' did all kinds of wonderful things to John's insides, though it did notch up the guilt some more. "It's just a machine. You'll figure it out. You'll turn him back." He pulled away enough so that he could look into Rodney's worried eyes. "And he's okay, right now. He's in a good place. I think-I think he's probably the most okay he's been since he's got here."

But Rodney was looking at him like John was nuts again. "He's a *monkey*. How can you say he's okay?"

"Tarsier," John corrected. "Look." He licked his lips. "When you were a kid-didn't you ever want to be, I don't know, a dog or something? Just, some animal who would be loved and petted and looked after no matter what? Like, as long as you were housebroken and didn't wreck the furniture you'd always be taken care of, you wouldn't have to do anything."

Rodney stared at him, but John could tell it was just because he was thinking about it, processing the idea. "We had a dog for awhile, when I was a kid," he said. "Sometimes I wished I were him, when my parents were fighting."

"Yeah." John nodded. "So... Daniel gets to be a tarsier for awhile. Taken care of. Loved. And he doesn't have to do anything."

Rodney blinked, but he looked just a little bit relieved. "Yes," he said finally. "I guess that would be all right."

"Sure it's all right." John smiled. "It's like-it's like a simian vacation."

Rodney even smiled a bit at that, and John's heart was like fireworks again.

But the smile was gone an instant later. "He's *not* a simian, John. He can't stay like this. We have to turn him back."

"And we will," John said seriously. "We will. I promise." He stepped back, reluctantly letting go. But they really had to get to the briefing.

And John knew they'd need him there as much, if not more, than anyone. Because he had the ATA gene, and he'd seen what had happened. They'd need his advice, to find out what he knew.

Not to mention that he'd spent a couple minutes checking out the machine himself, right after, with Daniel-Tarsier tucked safely into his jacket, and John was pretty sure he could turn Daniel back right away, if he had to.

He hoped he wouldn't have to, though. He hoped the science team would figure it out on their own, but that it would take awhile. At least overnight.

It wasn't that John wanted Daniel to stay forever as a tarsier. Far from it. But Daniel had been putting up with more crap than anybody for a long time now, and John figured it wouldn't hurt for him to spend a day or two just being loved and petted and looked after without having to do anything. Without having to really think, even, since tarsiers weren't exactly sentient. At least not the way humans were.

And if that meant that John got Rodney all to himself for a whole afternoon and night, maybe for a whole day afterwards, what was the harm in that? Nobody would get hurt. Daniel would never even know.

And Rodney deserved someone to love and pet and look after him, too, without having to do anything. Only, John really wanted Rodney to be sentient when he did it.

***

***

Author's notes: The beta for this is Kageygirl, the ever-fabulous. And with thanks to her and Wickdzoot for the suggestions that made this a better story.

As with "Tarsiidae," this story is also set in the Pegaus_B universe.

This story was written before "Mating Rituals" by Karen Mcfadyyon, who remixed Pygoscelis with my permission, though that story (and her website) are no longer on the web. This may actually be the first penguin fic in the SGA fandom, but I don't know for sure. :-)

And to belatedly give credit where credit is due, the line "Gayer than Christmas" and the reference to Stackhouse not being much of a sprinter comes from raqs. At least as far as I can remember. I had noted that in the original post of this story (on my now-gone Live Journal), but should have also included it here, for which I am sorry.

Winner! First Place, Humor, Addiction Fan Awards

***

John stood leaning against the wall of the Ancient lab, with his arms crossed over the butt of his P90, watching as Zelenka and Corrigan circled the machine that had turned Daniel into a tarsier just a few hours before. Rodney and two other scientists were examining the consoles set into the back wall of the room, seeing if they could access any information the original users might have left 10,000 years ago.

Ford and Stackhouse were standing against the wall across from him, both looking around nervously and trying not to touch anything. Stackhouse especially looked like he was sure something was going to leap out of the wall any second.

So far no one seemed any closer to figuring out how the transforming machine worked.

"No!" Rodney exclaimed to one of the hapless scientists working with him. "Where did you get your degree? Was it mail order? Because, seriously, you're being way too stupid to have possibly gotten it legitimately. Here. I'll do it. Go-go help Zelenka or something. If you're even capable."

John winced on behalf of the recipient of Rodney's ire, though when the guy looked in John's direction, he just rolled his eyes and tapped the side of his head, before crossing the room to talk to Zelenka. John grinned in sympathy, but his face fell as soon as the scientist wasn't looking at him anymore.

Things weren't going exactly to plan.

John had been hoping Daniel being safe and sound as a small primate would mean that he and Rodney got some quality time together, without Daniel interfering. What John hadn't figured was that the 'quality time' would include four other scientists and two spooked Marines, and a long, very boring afternoon watching Rodney's anxiety factor ratchet up from 'highly concerned' to 'DefCon Two.' At this rate they were going to be here all night, and John, Ford and Stackhouse would finally become useful when Rodney tried to murder one of his assistants.

John was almost considering just marching up to the machine, pressing the key he was pretty sure would turn Daniel human again, and seeing what happened. But if he did that, of course, he'd reveal that he'd known how to all along, and that would just wreck everything.

But this really sucked. Rodney wasn't going to leave until they'd discovered how to make the machine work. He'd be here for days if he had to, John realized. Because it was Daniel.

John wondered if Rodney would care about him that much, if he were the one who'd been turned into a lesser primate. The fact that he didn't know made him kind of sad.

"Major," Zelenka had finished talking in Russian to the other scientist and had turned to him, "would you mind coming here, please? I need to hear what you observed Dr. Jackson doing again."

"Sure," John said, glad to at least be doing something. He glanced at Rodney, but Rodney was still bent over one of the far consoles, so all John could see was the back of his blue t-shirt.

John exhaled silently as he crossed the room. He decided that if Zelenka or Corrigan were anywhere close to figuring it out, he'd nudge them in the right direction. At least that way maybe Rodney would be happy.

The transformation machine was set near the doors, almost at the midpoint between the two side walls of the large room. It was cylindrical, covered with keys and writing in the beautiful symbols used by the Ancients, all glowing crystalline blue. The beam that had zapped Daniel had come out of the part of the rounded surface Daniel had been facing, but John couldn't see anything in the smooth metal that might have produced it.

"So," Zelenka said, nodding at Corrigan with his chin, "William has found at least three different places on the machine with the word 'transformation.' Do you remember which one Dr. Jackson was looking at?"

"You really shouldn't be touching that," John said to Corrigan.

"Yeah, I know." Corrigan sighed and backed away from the machine. "I didn't touch it. I was just reading."

"Good." John nodded. "Okay." He pretended to think, since he knew exactly where he'd been looking when he found what he was sure was the 'reset' key. "Ignore all the stuff on the right, there-he was looking at this side." John pointed at the neat rows of large keys running down the left of the cylinder. "He must've read 'transformation' somewhere there."

"Yeah," Corrigan said, nodding in agreement. "It's right here." He pointed at the key, but didn't touch it.

"Are you sure he said nothing else?" That was the Russian, standing next to Zelenka. He cocked his head. "It doesn't seem that the word triggers the device."

"That's why I'm certain he touched something," John said. "He would've had to-"

A white light shot out of the machine, enveloping Zelenka and Corrigan.

John dove out of the way, listening to the scientist swearing loudly in Russian. John rolled to his feet instantly, P90 at the ready before his brain could remind his reflexes that there wasn't an enemy to shoot at.

Something small and yellow zapped into the air, so close to John's face that he felt the wind from its wings.

Ford and Stackhouse bounded into action, racing across the room. "Major!" Ford called. "Are you all right?"

"Koshka!" the Russian shouted suddenly. John whirled to look at him, only to see Zelenka-or was it Corrigan?-racing after the bird.

Because one of them had been turned into a large, orange tabby cat.

"Grab the cat!" John shouted. He looked around frantically, trying to spot the bird. "Find the bird!"

"What happened?" Rodney asked. But the started searching immediately, turning around to take in the entirety of the room. He suddenly pointed at the corner nearest the door. "There!"

The Russian scientist had managed to pick up the cat, but it was struggling fiercely in his arms, clawing and growling, scrabbling viciously at his hands with its back paws. The Russian dropped the cat with a curse, clutching at his lacerated wrist.

The cat took off after the bird like a furry missile.

The bird, which had been perched nervously on one of the pieces of equipment near the door, launched into the air in a panic, hurling itself to the back of the room and straight into one of the translucent consoles. The sound reminded John of a baseball hitting a window.

The bird bounced away, spiraling to the floor. The cat was on it like a streak of orange light.

"No!" John yelled, racing towards the scene of impending carnage. "The cat! Get the cat!" The two Marines pelted after him.

"Got it!" Rodney all but tackled the cat off the floor, scooping it up into his arms. He tucked it into his body like a football, ignoring the angry, full-mouthed growls and the claws raking over his chest and arm.

"Drop it!" Rodney smacked the cat neatly on the top of its head, and the cat's mouth opened. The bird flopped limply to the floor.

"Oh Jesus," John breathed, sure he'd just witnessed a homicide. Or at least manslaughter.

The scientist still working with Rodney-a frail-looking Japanese woman with very large glasses-knelt and quickly picked up the bird, cradling it tenderly in her tiny hands.

The cat kept growling, orange ears flattened to its head. Rodney took its scruff in his free hand and gave the cat a little shake. Then he moved away from the scientist with the bird, obviously intending to keep the cat as far away from temptation as possible. He started petting the cat, muttering something to it that John couldn't make out. The cat stopped growling.

John and the two Marines had reached the Japanese scientist now. She was staring in wide-eyed horror at the bird. She looked up at John when he was standing next to her. "I think its dead," she said.

"Wait." Stackhouse pushed forward, moving between John and an equally-horrified Ford. "I had birds when I was a kid," he explained, glancing briefly at John. "Here." He turned back to the scientist, gently sliding the bird out of her hand and onto one of his. "It's a canary," he said needlessly, since John couldn't imagine what other kind of bird would be that small and that bright yellow. Stackhouse carefully tucked the spread wings next to the body, then used a finger to turn the bird over in his hand. Its head flopped forward, but the eyes slid open a crack. There was blood on the back of its neck, staining the feathers.

"It's breathing," Stackhouse said, grinning, and John let out a breath. "I think it's just stunned." His grin faltered as he delicately prodded one of the wings, still mostly outstretched from the tiny body. "This wing is broken. And I don't know how badly the cat... uh, chewed it."

"Crap," John said. He licked his lips, glancing at the machine.

"So, Major," Rodney said. His voice was bitter and angry. "You think *he's* in a good place? Having a nice avian vacation?"

That stung, but John ignored it. He nodded at Stackhouse's little burden. "Bring him." He went back to the machine.

"Wait! What are you doing?" And now Rodney sounded worried, which was gratifying, but John ignored that, too.

"Fixing this," John said grimly, hoping that were true, that he could. He studied the machine, the keys Daniel had been looking at, the one he was sure would put everything back the way it was. He nodded to himself. That had to be it.

"Okay," he said to Stackhouse. "Put him down on the floor."

Stackhouse looked nervous again, but he did, leaving the barely-conscious bird lying on its side. He straightened and backed away.

Rodney was watching with big, concerned eyes.

John closed his eyes, swallowed, and hit the key, then jumped aside.

A white light shot out of the machine, at floor level, covering the bird. It lengthened and widened, though it was too bright to see what might be inside it. When it shut off a moment later, Corrigan was lying there on his side, looking exactly as he had been before, except for the tiny puncture wound on the back of his neck and an obvious broken arm.

Rodney blinked. "You did it." He was still petting the cat, its tail thrashing against Rodney's side.

"Yeah," John said. He sighed in relief, then watched as Ford checked Corrigan's pulse while Stackhouse looked on.

"Better let Beckett know we've got a medical emergency," John said, and Stackhouse nodded before tapping his earpiece on.

Ford looked up at John. "His pulse is steady, sir, I think he's coming around."

Corrigan groaned and rolled onto his back. He opened his eyes, staring blearily up at all the people gathered around him. "I thought..." He rasped, "I thought... I saw... A pussy cat?"

"I'm pretty sure he's got a concussion, sir," Ford said.

John nodded. Corrigan had hit the console pretty damn hard.

"Beckett says a team is on their way, sir, ETA about ten minutes."

"Good," John said. "Get him away from the machine. Try not to move his head. And get his feet elevated." He pulled off his jacket, handing it to Stackhouse. "Put this over him."

"Yessir," Stackhouse said.

Rodney brought the cat over. He glanced worriedly at the animal, then at the machine. "I don't think he'll stay still if I put him down," he said.

"Yeah..." John turned to the Russian. "Give me your jacket." The scientist shucked his jacket immediately, handing it to John. John turned back to Rodney, holding it open. "On the count of three, you're going to put Zelenka in there and I'm going to wrap him up, okay?"

"Sure," Rodney said. "On three."

"One... Two..." On 'three,' Rodney shifted his grip on the angry cat and dumped it into the jacket, holding it while John folded the cloth around the cat, trying to secure it with the sleeves. The cat snarled and growled and fought like a furry demon.

Rodney ended up with the cat, half-in and half-out of the jacket, clutched in a death grip to his chest. "Good idea," he said, panting a little. "Not going to work."

"Not so much," John agreed. He'd had no idea that Zelenka was that stubborn. Then again, he did get along with Rodney, at least most of the time. John held out his arms. "Give him to me. I'll hold him while you hit the button."

"No." Rodney looked scared shitless, but he shook his head. "He might escape." He walked right up to the machine. He took a deep breath. "Just do it."

John's hand hovered over the key, but he hesitated. "Rodney..."

Rodney's eyes narrowed. "Do it, Major."

John hit the key. Zelenka-Cat and Rodney were enveloped in the white light.

When it disappeared, Zelenka was standing there, one foot on the Russian's jacket, perfectly human.

And Rodney was a little, olive-shelled turtle on the floor.

John gaped. "Shit." He hit the key again.

More white light, and then Rodney was standing exactly where he had been, behind Zelenka.

"Oh, thank god," Rodney said in a rush. "I thought I was going to end up as a lemur, or something."

"You were a turtle," John said to Rodney.

"What?" Rodney looked stunned. He looked down at himself, as if expecting to see a shell. "No I wasn't!" He looked back at John. "I was a turtle?"

"Uh-huh," John nodded. He turned to Zelenka. "You okay?"

Zelenka blinked at both of them, looking bewildered. "I think so. What has happened?"

"You and Corrigan got turned into animals," John said, deciding he'd spare him the details.

"I was really a turtle?" Rodney asked. Then John could see something ticking over in his head, and Rodney's expression darkened. "Wait a sec," he said, moving towards John. "You just turned me back. You turned *all* of us back. You knew how to do it all along, didn't you?"

"Rodney," Zelenka said, glancing anxiously at the machine, "perhaps now is not the time-"

"Shut up, Radek," Rodney said.

"All right, all right." Zelenka shot Rodney a look that reminded John of the cat, then stepped well away from the machine.

"You son of a bitch!" Rodney walked towards John, fists clenched, and John fought the urge to back up. "You knew how to fix it all along!"

The other two scientists and the Marines were watching them now, hearing everything. John hoped to hell that they wouldn't think Rodney was right, or John would be in more trouble than he even wanted to think about. Starting with O'Neill killing him.

John raised his hands. "It was a lucky guess!"

"'Lucky *guess*'?" Rodney snarled. "Don't insult my intelligence, Major. I saw you. You knew exactly which key to hit. You barely even considered!" He took another step forward, so close now John could feel Rodney's breath on his face, hot and angry. "Just how long were you going to let Daniel stay like that? Or were you going to wait until the rest of us figured it out-if we ever did? 'Simian vacation.'" Rodney spat the words. "And all your platitudes. 'I promise he'll be okay.'" He sneered. "This was just some kind of joke to you, wasn't it? Or-or, some kind of experiment. Turn Daniel into a tarsier and see what happens." Rodney shook his head, but now his expression held far more confused hurt than anger. "How could you do that to him? How could you do that?"

"Rodney--!" John reached for him, but Rodney violently shrugged his hand away. "Rodney, listen to me! It wasn't like that! I meant what I said, about the vacation, and everything! I meant it!"

But John was sure Rodney hadn't even heard him. "You son of a bitch." He shook his head again, glowering. "You *snake*."

There was a bright white light-

***

And Zelenka watched in open-mouthed astonishment, as two small penguins appeared where Dr. McKay and the major had been. The slightly shorter one gave a loud, angry *honk*, then immediately pinched the taller penguin in the neck with its beak, while slapping it repeatedly with its flippers. The taller penguin squawked, then yanked itself out of the other penguin's beak, and fled from the room, the shorter penguin in hot, waddling pursuit.

They were surprisingly fast.

"Oh dear," Zelenka said. Then he and Ouzakov raced after them.

***

"How do you lose a couple of penguins, anyway?" Jack muttered, glaring down at the lifesigns detector in his hand. It was impossible to tell which of the dots might be the birds, but Weir had purposely cleared everyone out of this area of the city, so right now there were only three white dots-himself, Ford and Stackhouse-slowly catching up to two white dots, which had to be the penguins. "We're not talking leopards here. They *waddle*."

"I don't know, sir," Ford said. He looked uneasy, either because they were sneaking up on something and he didn't have his P90, or because in a few minutes he'd be trying to bag his superior officer in the net he was carrying. "Zelenka said they were really fast."

"They're *penguins*," Jack said, feeling that it was explanation enough. He shook his head. "Go to Atlantis. See a new galaxy. Become a freaking zookeeper."

Stackhouse smirked.

"Are they still chasing each other, sir?" Ford asked him. "When they got away from Zelenka and Ouzakov, the major was chasing McKay."

"I'm telling you," Stackhouse said, "the major was the one being chased. The other penguin was shorter."

"No way." Ford shook his head. "McKay could *not* take Sheppard. Sheppard's Air Force. And he's been sparring with Teyla." Ford made a vague swiping gesture with his arm. "Learning how to use those whacking sticks."

"I didn't say McKay could *take* him," Stackhouse said, sounding just a little peeved, "I said he was the one *chasing* him. And he'd bitten him, too. There was blood. Besides," he added, "McKay's *vicious*, man. I wouldn't want to cross him. He's big, too. Muscular."

Ford looked at Stackhouse sidelong. "Not that you've noticed, or anything."

Stackhouse shrugged. "I've been out on missions with him," he said. Kind of defensively, Jack thought.

*Gayer than fucking Christmas*. Jack sighed inwardly. *Every single goddamn one of them*. Maybe it was some kind of international conspiracy-ship all the queers out to the Pegasus galaxy, hope they get eaten.

"So have I," Ford said.

Stackhouse looked at him. "And you've never noticed."

"Nope." Ford gave Stackhouse a superior smile.

"Well, anyway," Stackhouse said, casually as if he weren't blushing deep crimson, "Zelenka saw the same thing-the littler penguin whaled on the taller one, and then the taller one ran away."

"Not possible." Ford shook his head again, more emphatically.

Jack sucked a tooth. "Have either of you gentlemen perhaps heard of the concept of *stealth*, when stalking your quarry?" he asked pleasantly.

Ford blinked. "Penguins aren't afraid of humans, sir."

Jack smiled at him. "I wasn't talking about the penguins."

"Oh," Ford said quickly. "Sorry, sir."

Stackhouse echoed it a second later, and blessed silence descended.

Jack exhaled in relief and looked at the detector again. The two dots were at the very far end of the corridor... out on the pier with the number four grounding station, actually. In fact...

"Huh," Jack grunted. "They're in the water."

"What?" Stackhouse's head snapped around, eyes wide. "Oh no!" He took off down the hallway.

Jack watched him go for a bit. The sergeant really would never win any sprinting awards. "Hey, Marlin Perkins," Jack called after him, "they're *penguins*. They can swim, remember?"

Stackhouse skidded to a halt, turning around. "Oh, right," he said, panting. "Thanks, sir. Sorry."

"Right," Jack murmured to himself, checking the detector. "The few, the proud." He looked over at Ford, giving him a tight smile. "Ready to go penguin wrangling?"

"Yes, sir."

***

"Yep," Jack said on a breath, "they're in the water."

The two penguins had somehow found their way along the pier and into the water, and were now swimming in the breaking waves. They honked to each other, then one dove, only to resurface with a fish clutched triumphantly in its beak. Jack watched as that one-Sheppard or McKay, he had no clue-tilted its head back and snapped the fish down, only to dive into the water again.

It was actually kind of cute.

Ford was looking glumly at the remaining penguin, which was letting the waves push and pull it away from the pier. Okay, that one was Sheppard, Jack figured-Sheppard's personnel file said he liked surfing.

It also had a very visible red gash on his neck. Jack decided not to point that out to Ford, though-let the lieutenant keep his illusions.

"They're too far away for the nets to reach," Ford said miserably. "What are we going to do?"

"Maybe we could leave them out here?" Stackhouse asked. "Come back later, maybe when they go to sleep, or something?" He looked at Jack hopefully.

Jack shook his head. "Tempting though that idea is, Sergeant," he said, "we have no idea what predators might be swimming around down there, about to discover there's a whole new item on the menu. We have to get them out."

"So, what do we do?" Ford asked again. "We can't reach them, and it's not like they're going to come if we call them."

Jack smiled at him. "We wait." He walked back to the wall, then sat down so that his legs were stretched out and his back was leaning against it. He pulled his cap down so the peak covered his eyes. "Wake me when they're back on the pier. If you see anything coming at them, use your Berretta and shoot it."

There was a pause, then, "Yes, sir," Ford said. He didn't sound thrilled.

Jack just smiled and closed his eyes.

***

"Sir." Stackhouse was shaking him, voice soft but urgent. "Sir-they're back on the pier!"

Jack was awake instantly, alert. He nodded at Stackhouse and pulled himself carefully to his feet, not wanting to do anything that would alarm the penguins. He walked over to where Ford was standing tensely, his net stretched between his hands.

The two penguins were standing side-by-side, preening each other. One of them-the shorter one, maybe-eyed Ford warily but went back to smoothing the other's feathers.

The penguins were a good ten feet away, right at the edge of the pier, where they could drop back into the water in a second. "Relax, Lieutenant," Jack murmured. "We don't want to spook them."

Ford nodded slowly. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

"Okay," Jack said. "Here's what we're going to do. Follow behind me. Go slow. And Stackhouse," he added, "get your net out." He didn't wait for Stackhouse's reply, as he stepped in front of Ford, moving slowly. He pulled a small can out of one pocket, a can opener out of the other, and began slicing open the lid. When the lid was off he handed it and the opener to Stackhouse, then knelt cautiously, putting the open tin on the ground.

"What's that, sir?" Stackhouse whispered.

"Tuna," Jack said. He smiled at the penguins, who were both eyeing him now, with little beady, black eyes in their little black faces. "*Everybody* loves tuna, right?" He gave the can a gentle shove, pushing it towards the penguins. "Bet you guys love tuna. Mmm. Tuna."

He stood and backed away slowly. He spoke to the two Marines out of the side of his mouth. "Get ready."

"Is it safe for them to eat mercury, sir?" Stackhouse asked. "Tuna has a lot of mercury."

Jack ignored him.

The shorter penguin waddled over, bending its head over the tin. Yep, that had to be McKay-it'd been the one going after the fish, too. Fucking hypoglycemic penguin. It honked, then dipped its head in, snapping up some of the tuna in its beak.

A moment later the other penguin waddled up, too, then began to eat as well.

"Everybody loves tuna," Jack said softly. He gestured at Ford and Stackhouse.

Ford stepped forward, holding the net out.

All hell broke loose.

The shorter penguin looked up, and Jack saw the lightning change in its eyes just before it rushed him, wings spread and honking. Jack tried to dodge back, but the two Marines were in the way, and then McKay-it was definitely McKay, the little bastard-had grabbed the tendon and muscle just behind his knee in its-well, okay, his--beak, and was pinching it like a vice. All the while whacking Jack's shin with his flippers.

Jack howled, crashing backwards, and taking down Stackhouse with him. McKay was shaken loose and slapped onto his back on the deck, but he scrambled upright with alarming speed and surprising grace for something that waddled, and dove for Jack's leg again, this time pinching his thigh. And still whacking the fuck out of him, too. This time on either side of his knee.

"Goddamnit!" Jack shouted. "Get McKay off me!"

"I *told* you it was McKay!" Stackhouse shouted at Ford. He'd managed to get to his feet, though his net was still tangled up under Jack's body. He reached for the penguin, but it eyed him evilly over the fold of Jack's leg in its beak, and Stackhouse hesitated.

"For fuck's sake, Stackhouse, grab him!" Jack was pushing at McKay's feathered chest, trying to shove him off. The Colonel O'Neill part of his mind reminded the rest of him desperately that no, it would be a really bad idea to start kicking the penguin with his other foot.

McKay just switched his beak vise-grip to Jack's hand.

"Son of a bitch! Stackhouse!"

"Sorry!" Stackhouse gulped. Then grabbed the penguin around its pear-shaped middle.

Sheppard honked in alarm, then rushed up and bit Stackhouse on his calf, pummeling Stackhouse's leg with its-his--flippers.

Ford finally figured out what to do with the net, apparently, and threw it over Sheppard, then reached down and forcibly dragged him away from Stackhouse. Stackhouse yelped in pain as the beak disengaged, but he was a good soldier and hadn't let go of McKay. Now he was able to pick the penguin up, crushing it to his chest. Jack was finally able to wrench his bleeding hand out of its mouth.

McKay honked in rage and struggled against Stackhouse, but the Marine held on desperately. "The net, sir!" he shouted. "Get the net!"

Sheppard was honking as well, pushing against Ford and fighting with the net, but Ford just kept wrapping and re-wrapping the bird until Sheppard was hopelessly tangled in a forlorn heap on the deck. He gave a sad little honk that Jack figured was the penguin equivalent of "go on without me."

Jack leapt to his feet, wincing at the burning pain in his leg. He bent and grabbed the net, and threw it over McKay, who had almost managed to get free of Stackhouse's arms, no doubt giving him several bruises in the process. Jack grabbed the penguin before it could fall to the deck, bundling it in the net until it was finally immobile, glaring hot penguin death up at him.

"Yeah, well, same to you, buddy," Jack panted. "Rat bastard penguin. It's for your own good."

McKay kept glaring at him.

"You'll thank me later," Jack said. He hefted the penguin, making sure its beak was facing away from him, and began limping back to the doors that led inside. Stackhouse limped after him.

Ford, completely uninjured, came up beside him. He grinned, nodding at the penguin in Jack's arms. "The major put up a hell of a fight, huh, sir?"

God, the kid just lived in denial, didn't he? "This is McKay," Jack said. "Your crush capitulated like Belgium."

Ford's face fell. He looked down at the sad penguin he was carrying with an expression akin to betrayal. "This one's Sheppard?"

"Told you," Stackhouse said again. "McKay is *vicious*." He grinned at Jack. "Great capture there, sir."

"Whatever, Marlin," Jack said, rolling his eyes.

***

"So," Jack said. "This is our new penguin pen."

He was standing in front of what was normally the cell where they kept Wraith and other prisoners who didn't require bathrooms. Now a corner of the cell was taken up with the lid of one of the larger storage containers, which had sides high enough to make it useable as a shallow pool, where Sheppard was currently swimming. Jack wondered how much of a good thing it was that he was finding it so easy to tell the two of them apart. There was a medium-sized pile of pebbles in another corner, and a pile of raw fish next to that, both recently acquired from the mainland.

"Yes, it is," Dr. Patel said. She was staring at the two penguins in the cage-a little morosely, Jack thought-standing next to Jack with her arms crossed. "They should be comfortable here until we can change them back."

"They do look... comfortable," Jack said. McKay was eating the fish, of course, lifting his head every so often to send Jack a glare that made Jack's leg hurt.

"How is Dr. Jackson?" Patel asked. "You're still keeping him in your quarters, right?"

"Yep." Jack sighed. "He's doing great. Ripped up the couple paperbacks I brought, and destroyed my favorite sweater. And I think he's figuring out how to open my laptop, though so far he's only chewed through the mouse cord."

Patel nodded as if all of that only made sense. "Tarsiers are extremely bright."

"...And he's not housebroken," Jack added.

"No," Patel said. "No, he wouldn't be."

"Right," Jack said.

Sheppard was climbing out of the shallow pool. He flopped onto the smooth floor and slid. He got to his feet, looked like he was considering something very seriously, then took a short, waddling run, and threw himself onto his white stomach, spreading his wings as he slid along the floor. He crashed into the bars and Jack winced.

McKay went to see if Sheppard was okay, and much preening ensued, with McKay pausing every so often to glare at Jack.

"That one doesn't like you very much, does he?" Patel asked.

Jack sighed again. "Not so much."

The penguins had stopped preening each other, though Sheppard was still lying on his belly, looking almost... expectant. And then McKay was...

Jack blinked. "Are they fighting?"

Patel shook her head. "No, that would be sex." She seemed sad.

"Sex," Jack repeated. He blinked again. "Penguin sex."

"Gay penguin sex," Patel said.

Jack stared. "Okay..." McKay kind of slid off Sheppard's back, and the preening resumed. "Doesn't seem to take very long." And really, thank God for that.

"No," Patel said. "Most animals don't."

Sheppard stood up, and the preening continued, though there was a whole undercurrent to it now that felt uncomfortably pornographic. "And, do they... uh..." Jack nodded at the cage. "Is it always-"

"They trade off," Patel said. She snorted. "Like ninety-eight percent of the men on this fucking base." She smiled thinly at Jack, who was looking at her in mild astonishment. "Don't mind me, I'm just bitter."

"Right," Jack said. He glanced at the cage again. Apparently it was McKay's turn. Sheppard had more enthusiasm, but McKay had better technique, Jack decided. And he never wanted to think about that ever again.

He made an abortive thumb-over-the-shoulder gesture. "I'll uh... I should go feed Daniel. I'll see you at the briefing."

Patel nodded. "I'll be here if you need me, hating my life."

"Right," Jack said. And fled.

***

"So," Weir said. "Dr. Zelenka, you're sure that Major Sheppard alone knows how to reverse the animal transformations?"

"Not entirely," Zelenka said. "I do not, for I was a cat at the time. But Rodney may have seen it. Of course," he spread his hands, "he is also now a penguin."

"Great," Jack said. "So we've got an archeologist who weighs less than a cell phone, and your science head and my senior officer who-" *are having gay penguin sex, probably right this second* leapt into his mind, but Jack stomped on it immediately. "--Are flightless waterfowl," he finished lamely, "and they're the only ones who have the first idea how the damn machine works." He put his head in his hands, wincing as the bandage rasped across his eyelid. "Just great."

Daniel, who was sitting on the table, reached out and put his tiny paw on Jack's chin. Jack found it surprisingly comforting.

"I do have a theory," Zelenka offered.

"Excellent," Weir said. She gave Jack a brief, admonishing look before turning her full attention to the scientist. "Let's hear it."

"Somehow, thinking about animals triggers the mechanism," Zelenka said. "I myself was thinking about Daniel having been turned into a tarsier, when I became a cat."

"Wait," Ford said. He was sitting next to Stackhouse; Jack figured they were probably kicking each other under the table. "Why weren't you turned into another tarsier, then?"

"I don't know," Zelenka said. "Rodney was apparently thinking of a lemur when he was turned into a turtle, briefly." He shrugged. "It appears to be totally random."

"Would that mean that Corrigan was thinking about animals as well, then?" Ouzakov asked. He was sitting next to the Japanese scientist, but Jack didn't remember her name. She had her hands clasped in front of her on the table, looking kind of tarsierish herself, with her large glasses.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you as yet," Beckett said. He was sitting next to Patel. "He's still not entirely coherent. He took quite the knock to his head."

Zelenka looked totally stricken. "I did not cause him permanent injury...?"

Weir smiled warmly at him. "No one here is blaming you, Radek," she said. "You can't be responsible for anything you did as an animal."

*Like gay penguin sex*, Jack thought, then had to shake his head to clear it.

"But William," Zelenka insisted, looking pleadingly at Beckett. "He will be all right?"

Beckett nodded, smiling as well. "He'll be fine. He just needs rest, more than anything. And a few weeks to heal his arm. But he'll be right as rain again, I promise."

"Thank you," Zelenka said quietly. He sagged a little in relief.

"Do you know if McKay or Sheppard were thinking of animals before they were transformed?" Weir asked.

"Yes." Zelenka nodded. He glanced at the other scientists, then Ford and Stackhouse. "I believe I heard Rodney mention the word 'snake.'"

"Snake?" Weir asked. Her eyebrows lowered in confusion. "Why?"

"No idea, ma'am," Ford said immediately. Stackhouse, Zelenka and the other scientists all nodded in unison.

"It is a mystery," Zelenka added.

Weir looked a little bemused at all the nodding, but she let it go. "...But you could definitely say that at least Rodney had been thinking of animals, then, right before the light hit them," she said.

"I could, yes," Zelenka nodded.

"So, that gets us exactly, where?" Jack asked. *Gay penguin sex*, his brain supplied helpfully. Jack put his hand over his eyes.

"Are you all right, Colonel?" Weir asked him.

"Just a headache," Jack said. "It's nothing."

"It gets us knowing what *not* to do when dealing with the machine," Weir said. "That's a good place to start." She put her palms decisively on the table. "And that's what you'll have to concentrate on tomorrow, when you go back to the lab."

"Wait." Jack looked up. "*Tomorrow*?" He gestured at the tiny primate, who was gazing up at him with its big orange eyes. "Daniel's still a tarsier, in case you hadn't noticed! Why the hell aren't we going back now?"

"Because, Colonel," Weir said, and her voice was a little less than warm, "it's late, in case *you* hadn't noticed. That machine is dangerous enough-the last thing I want is for anyone to be working on it while they're exhausted. It will still be there in the morning."

"And Daniel will still be a tarsier, for crying out loud!" Jack stood, automatically scooping Daniel up and setting the tarsier on his shoulder.

"It's not so bad, Colonel," Zelenka said.

Jack's head snapped around to face him. "What?"

Zelenka shrugged, a little apologetically. "I remember," he said. "I remember a little. Going after... the bird." He looked guilty as hell, but he still continued. "It was a small, moving thing, and all I wanted was to catch it-the focus of my entire world. It was exhilarating." His mouth flickered in a smile. "I... enjoyed it. That part. Until I became human again, of course," he added quickly.

"Of course," Weir said understandingly. Then she was glaring at Jack. "I'm sorry, Colonel, it's too risky. I can't allow anyone to return to the lab tonight." Her eyes hardened. "I'll post a guard at the door if I have to, with orders to hold prisoner anyone who tries to access the machine." The threat was more than clear.

"Fine," Jack said, letting his face show her exactly what he thought of that decision. He turned and stalked out of the briefing room, Daniel riding serenely on his shoulder all the way.

***

"I dunno," Stackhouse was saying, "I always kind of figured the major would make a good piglet. I mean, if he was turned into an animal."

Ford goggled at him. "A *piglet*? Where the hell did that come from?"

Stackhouse shrugged. "I think it's the hair, the way it always sticks up all over the place. Something about it makes me think, 'piglet.'"

Ford shook his head, then took another sip from his mug. "Pigs don't even have hair."

"Yeah, they do," Stackhouse said. "It's just really sparse." He shrugged again. "I guess it's just... you know, his hair is cute. And piglets are cute."

"Gayer than Christmas," Jack muttered into his coffee. This was the last time he sat with anyone who wasn't Daniel at breakfast. Another sentence or two of this inane conversation and he was liable to reach across the table and drown the sergeant in his cereal.

Of course, Daniel would have hated knowing Jack was even thinking like that. It made Jack miss him all the more. And it had only been about 24 hours.

Daniel was currently back in Jack's room. Jack had left him sleeping in a tiny fuzzy ball on his pillow. It would probably be shredded when he got back. Not to mention pooped on. Which was another reason he couldn't wait to figure the machine out, he had to admit.

"Beagles are cuter than pigs," Ford said. "And they're smart, and good at tracking things. I could see the major as a beagle, maybe."

"Pigs are smarter than dogs," Stackhouse said. And Jack's fingers twitched.

"Well, kids," Jack said, overly brightly, "are we ready to take on the Ancient transformation machine today?"

Ford and Stackhouse stared at him.

"Yes, sir," Ford said. Stackhouse just nodded. They both had the kind of expressions Jack associated with trying not to aggravate the insane.

But at least they shut up. That was pretty sweet.

"Eat up," Jack said. "Big day today." He grinned into his coffee.

***

McKay the penguin stood tangled in the net and glowered at him. If he were capable, Jack was certain McKay would have crossed his flippers. And if Jack came any closer he'd probably lose a finger. But he had half of one hand bandaged and was limping as it was, so he wasn't about to do that.

They'd left Sheppard honking plaintively in the cage, as they carted McKay-the-test-subject with them--not to mention several more bruises, as Sheppard had tried his penguin damndest to prevent his lover from being taken. Stackhouse had been pinched hard enough that he was in the infirmary, having his leg elevated and iced. Jack didn't even feel bad about how damn happy he was about that.

Ford stood holding onto the penguin, looking nervous.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince Weir to use McKay first, before Sheppard or even Daniel. She had readily agreed that it was of paramount importance to have the foremost expert on Ancient technology human again. She had agreed so very readily, in fact, that Jack had become a little suspicious-until it occurred to him that she had seen him and Stackhouse at the briefing, watching them both limping in and sporting large bandages. Maybe she just preferred the idea of a McKay tempered by human restraint.

"Okay..." Zelenka was standing at the left side of the machine, looking even more nervous that Ford. "The major was standing here, when I was human again. I remember that."

"Did you see what he touched?" Weir asked. She was standing next to him, studying the keys. Jack admired her bravery in being there, had argued against it, in fact, but Weir had insisted that she had the best grasp of Ancient after Daniel, and should have been there in the first place, instead of Corrigan.

"No." Zelenka shook his head. "I am sorry."

Weir nodded. "All right." Her fingertips ghosted over the keys, but didn't actually touch any of them. "We know that apparently thinking of animals triggers the device..." She looked up, casting them all a small, brief smile. "So none of you do that."

"I wasn't all that close, ma'am," Ford said. "But I think he pressed the key just below that one." He gestured with his chin, since his hands were occupied with the penguin, nodding when Weir moved her finger.

"This one?" Weir looked at him curiously. "But it's the key that says 'transformation.' Sheppard said that's the key Daniel was reading when he was turned into a tarsier."

"But we know it wasn't reading it that did anything!" It was the Japanese woman, speaking for the first time since Jack had seen her. Her voice was light and pleasant-cute, like her eyes behind her big glasses. "It was thinking about animals!"

Weir nodded, looking both thoughtful and hopeful. "So that could mean..." She took a breath and touched the key.

A white light shot out of the machine, enveloping Ford and the penguin.

When the light retreated, McKay was back, wrapped in white netting. He blinked at them all, looking stunned.

"Fish?" he said.

"Huh." Jack blinked, then smiled at Weir. "Sweet."

Except that Ford was gone. Instead, there was a piglet on the floor beside McKay.

"Figures," Jack said.

Weir hit the button again.

***

John stopped in front of the door to Rodney's quarters, hesitated, then knocked.

"Come in," Rodney called. He sounded distracted, which was pretty normal for him, but just for a second John had expected to hear honking, and was kind of thrown by the English.

"Hey," John said, when the door slid open. He smiled tentatively, walking only far enough into the room so that the door shut behind him. Rodney was typing at his laptop, concentrating hard on something.

John was pretty sure the last thing he remembered before the penguin thing was Rodney being pissed as hell with him. John didn't want to assume that was over, much as he hoped it was.

But Rodney finished what he was typing, then looked up at him and smiled, big and happy and genuine. "Hey yourself," he said. "Did you have a good time on the mainland?"

"Oh, yeah," John nodded. He grinned in relief, walking further into the room. "Daniel had a fantastic time, learning the Athosian dialect. Jinto loves him." It was only the second after he'd said it that John realized just how stupid that was, bringing up Daniel. He had been looking forward to being alone with Rodney-provided Rodney didn't still hate him-and now Daniel was going to be in the room, even if it wasn't physically.

Rodney snorted. "Figures," he said. "Everyone loves him. It's probably the big blue eyes."

John didn't know if Rodney's reaction meant he was still jealous of Jack or not, and he sighed inwardly. Not even a whole day back as a human, and he was screwing things up again.

"You've got big blue eyes," John said. Stupid, but it was the first thing he thought of.

Rodney smirked. "You'll notice how few people love me, however."

John swallowed, the words on his tongue, but he held them in tight. "I brought you something," he said instead, and pulled his fist out of his pocket.

As Rodney watched, John released a handful of small pebbles onto his desk.

Rodney blinked, his expression unreadable, and inwardly John cringed. Then Rodney reached out, moving the pebbles with the fingers of his hand. Touching them gently, as if they were incredibly fragile and precious.

He looked up at John, and there was a kind of wonder in his eyes. "You brought me pebbles?"

"Yeah." John nodded. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck. "There's a stream, right by the village, you know? I just saw them in the water, and..." He shrugged. "I thought you should have them."

Rodney nodded. He moved some of the pebbles with his hand, then picked up the largest one, running his thumb over it. "You know we were Adelie penguins, right?" His voice was soft.

John nodded. "Yeah. Patel told me."

Rodney flicked a smile at him, but then his face went strangely serious. "That's what they do when they mate-the male brings a pebble to the female, and if she takes it, it means she... she chooses him."

"I know," John said. He smiled, though it was even more uncertain than when he'd first come in. "But I do know you're not a female."

"Thanks for noticing." Rodney chuckled a little, but then looked at John almost sadly. He was still rubbing the stone. "We're not penguins, either."

"I know that," John said. "But..." He gestured at the pebbles. "I want you to have them anyway." His voice dropped, and he had to force the rest of the words out. "It means... it means the same."

Rodney nodded again, slowly. "I owe you an apology," he said quietly. "For all the stuff I said in the lab. I was scared for Corrigan, and worried about Daniel. But I was wrong."

"It's okay." John made himself smile, though his heart was breaking. "I should never have kept the information from you."

"No." Rodney looked up at him. "No, that's the thing. You *weren't* wrong. You were right." He smiled, though it seemed wistful now. "You see, I remember what it was like, being a penguin. At least some of it. Swimming. Being with you." His smile widened. "I had a wonderful time."

"Yeah?" John couldn't help grinning again. That was something, at least. He could hold on to that. "Me too."

"Yeah," Rodney nodded. "So I owe you an apology. You were right-I think a simian vacation was exactly what Daniel needed."

"Cool," John said. Then he glanced at the pebbles, and his grin faded. Daniel was still there, after all. A forever presence in the room, in Rodney's life.

"Well," he said, trying for casual, "I should probably be going. I just... I just wanted to see how you were doing." He made himself laugh. "Leave some pebbles."

"I'm keeping them," Rodney said.

John blinked. "You are?"

"Of course." Rodney looked surprised that John could have thought otherwise, and John blinked again, feeling the first spark in his heart.

"Of course I'm keeping them," Rodney said. He stood, and he took John's hand, and pressed the pebble he'd been holding into it, folding John's fingers around the stone. It was warm from Rodney's skin.

Rodney kissed him, hot and lush and sweet, and it rolled over John like the sea.

"I choose you, John," Rodney said when they broke apart. "I choose you."

John's heart was like fireworks; so bright it almost hurt, and he pulled Rodney to him, hugging him so hard he heard an astonished, laughing, "Hey!" and then John was kissing him again, and laughing into Rodney's wonderful mouth, and John was still holding the pebble that was warm from Rodney's hand.

John thought he might have honked for joy, if he'd remembered how.

***