—Calm down, McKay! It's not like it's the first time you've lost your memory. And Doctor Keller said—
—Yes, yes: it's not kirsan fever, it's something new, probably bacterial and definitely contagious, runs its course in twenty-four hours give or take, no lasting side-effects (not that there's any scientific basis for that supposition, since she freely admits it's, hello, something new), just take it easy whilst confined to quarters, wasting — do you have any idea how much this'll set back the hyperdrive project?
—About a day?
—And anyway, I think it's fair to say I've had more than my share of brain-altering medical incidents recently—
—You're totally right, McKay.
—And — wait, what?
—I just said you were right.
—Why are you suddenly agreeing with me?
—You have been out of your mind a lot, lately. Hey, want me to swing by Maintenance and pick up some power tools?
—Oh, ha ha, very funny, Colonel Home Improvement. But hey, what if—
—It'll be fine, Rodney. Hell, we'll just hang out, play some video golf, watch a couple of movies. I've got Back to the Future.
—God, no — wait, that could actually work. How about we save that for later? When I've forgotten just how painfully inaccurate the so-called 'science' is?
—Hey, I can hear those air-quotes, you know. Come on in: there's beer in the fridge.
—Keller said no alcohol, remember?
—Crap. Still, I guess we'll be getting the effects without the hangover. You know. Headache, can't remember what you did last night, waking up with some—
—Yes, and what if we're sitting here and neither of us has the slightest idea who we are or what we're doing and you start trying to convince me—
—Not gonna try anything, McKay. Just keeping an eye on you, like Keller said. Buddy system, buddy. Hey, are you losing your memory already?
—Fuck off, Sheppard.
—That's good, that you know who I am.
—So? Of course I remember you. I always ...
—It's not gonna be like the time with the, the thing. In your head.
—I remembered you then. Even when I didn't remember anything else.
—I guess you remember what's. What's important.
—Yes, well. Or, hey, maybe I just thought I could relate to you better once I'd lost a hundred IQ—
—Yeah, right. You owe me five bucks, by the way.
—Oh, I do not.
—You so do. Remember the kirsan fever? You bet me five bucks that I'd start losing my memories before you did.
—Really? I have no recollection of that.
—Guess it's starting, then.
—Hey, I should do what ... who was it? What what's-his-name did. Carry a photo of you. 'This is John Sheppard. He is your ...'
—Your what, Rodney?
—I ... I don't know. What is this? What we're doing?
—We're in my quarters, having a beer. I just closed the curtains: right now, I'm setting up the movie. Any minute—
—Yes, okay, but no. You and me. What is it we're doing? ... Oh, don't give me that attitude. Tell me what you're thinking, what you think about, about you and me. Let's face it, neither one of us is going to remember this. It's not going down as the day Colonel Sheppard talked about his feelings.
—Look, Sheppard. John. It's not just the sex thing. Not for me.
—Okaaay. Um. Me too.
—Not that I don't. Well.
—I guess I ... Hey, can you remember how to start this thing?