(if you put me to the test)

but he found himself heading for Ronon's quarters. Even at his chattiest, Ronon rarely spoke unless he was answering a direct question, and John wasn't overanxious to spend the night scuffing it up with his other half in the infirmary, and if he, this John, the one standing in front of Ronon's door, was secretly a sleeper agent programmed to maim Atlantis, Ronon would shoot him before he got out of the room.

"Hey," he said when Ronon answered the door. Ronon nodded at him and stood aside to let him in. John took a moment to notice that the room looked more lived in: a pile of folded shirts on one of the chairs, a game console, several pairs of boots lined up against the wall.

"You know I'm the real guy, right? I mean, John Sheppard, the original and best?"

Ronon considered him a moment, head cocked like he was listening to a sound only he could hear and then shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. You're both him."

"Yeah, well, it matters to me," John said sharply. "Especially as I get the distinct impression that one of us is temporary, and it might be me."

Ronon shrugged again and said, "Either way, there'll be a Sheppard."

"You know, I came to you because I thought you'd have a little insight into really getting to know the 'real' you. I mean, you must have had plenty of time to plumb your inner depths when you were... Uh."

Ronon's stony face had one tilted eyebrow that suggested amusement. Or something John was choosing to interpret as amusement. Otherwise, Ronon was about to slap him down. It could go either way, really.

Instead, Ronon stepped forward and sort of tucked John's nose into his armpit (which smelled like armpit and cured leather) and slapped him on the back a few times. Then he held John by the shoulders at arm's-length and stooped a little to peer into John's eyes. After a long moment, where John held his breath to wait on Ronon's verdict (and to notice that his skin still smarted under his shirt from where Ronon had smacked him with his huge, heavy hands) Ronon let him go and folded his arms.

"You smell like him. You look like him. You're him. Stop worrying about it."

"Easy for you to say. I'm a walking split personality! Maybe I'm a robot!" He pointed a finger and demanded, "What if I'm being mind-controlled by an alien disco ball?"

Ronon leaned forward slightly, and said with some intensity, "You're. Him."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You're annoying," Ronon pointed out.

"Anyone can be annoying," John replied, turning his glare to full force so that Ronon had some idea who 'anyone' might be in this particular instance.

"Fine. You tell me. What would Sheppard do?"

"Huh?"

"You've got the night off. If there's an emergency, the other one can handle it."

"He might be mind-controlled by an alien disco ball!"

"So you want to go follow him around and make sure he's you, too?"

John thought about it.

"Nah. Not really. And no I don't want to get my ass handed to me in the gym, either," John said, narrowing his eyes.

"Geyer lent me his Frisbee. It glows in the dark," Ronon added.

John felt a grin slide onto his face, envisioning the huge enclosed space with the skylights on the south pier.

"Excellent."

END