To be quite honest, Radek is not quite sure how it happened, how he ended up here, doing this. One minute (or so it seems), he is standing in the Jumper Bay with Rodney and the Colonel, having a nice, friendly yelling match about who has the steadier hands and is therefore more qualified to do minute tinkerings in the Jumper control panels—Radek, obviously—and then the next, he is sitting in the dining hall, across a circular table from Rodney, a deck of cards in his hands, and another just to his left.

Really, he is not sure how exactly it happened, but he is here, with his honor on the line, so he must make the best of it. With that thought, Radek shuffles his first deck once, the cards making a soft whirring noise as they fold together, and he smirks as Rodney does the same.

The Colonel is sitting at the table with them, midway between Radek and Rodney. He is leaning backwards, away from the table, in what Rodney refers to as ‘The Commanding Slouch’. He is not their only audience, though. There is a circle of Atlantis personnel around the table as well, the military people mostly behind Rodney (Radek thinks that this is because it is where Ronon and Teyla chose to sit) and the scientists mostly behind him. He is glad for this: the scientists, he knows, know better than to sneeze or breathe too heavily in his direction while he is at work. He does not trust the military to do the same.

"Okay, Rodney, Dr. Zelenka, these are the rules," the Colonel says, still leaning backwards, arms crossed over his chest, and Radek thinks that he sounds as if he is trying very hard not to laugh. "Okay, you know what. Forget the rules. You both know them—you made them up. So, go on, build. May the man with the steadier hands win the right to tinker with my Puddle Jumpers."

"Your Puddle Jumpers?" Rodney asks. "Excuse me? What are you talking about?"

And no matter that they are where they are, doing what they are doing, Radek is forced to agree with him. Because the Colonel may fly the Puddle Jumpers, yes, and he may have a connection with them that no one else in Atlantis has, but to call them his is a little presumptuous. It is like saying that Radek has not spent two years of his life learning everything that he can about them. That he does not feel the same affinity for them that the Colonel does, even if he is not so lucky as to be able to fly them.

The Colonel ignores Rodney’s protest, though, and flips one of his hands in their direction, saying, "You can start any time now. Any time. I somehow doubt that these people are here to see you glare at me; they get to see that every day."

So, the competition begins like this: with Radek and Rodney sharing a commiserating look over the as yet empty table. Then Rodney splits his deck, pulls out the card that had previously been in the middle, and lays it flat on the table.

Radek does not have the same strategy. He always begins with the two of clubs, as it is the card of least value in the deck (for most games that he plays, anyway) and thus, he thinks, should always be on the bottom. From there, it does not matter, but it is important to start off on a familiar foot. It is like Parrish, who always wears the same pair of socks when he is forced to go off world now: long, red and fuzzy, with yellow stripes around the leg portions.

He sets his next cards around the edges of the first, then balances them carefully, using a finger stretched out across the tops. He reaches over for a third card, then begins creating his standard maze-like pattern, where no room is ever entirely closed. It allows him to expand outward quickly, steadily and that is what matters. And indeed, time moves. When he has used up his first whole deck that way, he begins delicately laying cards from the second on top of the whole thing, for the ceiling. The ceiling, he knows from experience, is nearly the most important part of the whole puzzle. It must be smooth, solid, well-supported, so that more layers can go on top of it. Radek dares a glance across at Rodney and sees that he is already halfway through his roof. That his base is smaller, his cards balanced together in a tighter pattern. He is still on deck number one.

There is only one rule in this little contest of theirs: the one who knocks part of their card structure over first is the loser. While they may attempt to catch an unbalanced card before it falls, once it is flat, they are done. It counts the same as having the whole building, or a section of it, topple over.

Even though Radek still has about fifteen cards left after creating his roof, he sticks his hand out in Colonel Sheppard’s direction, and nods his head when another deck of cards, already unwrapped, is placed against his palm. He adds them to his stack, underneath the original ones, and then stands, so that he has a better angle. It is only a moment before he hears the scraping of another chair across the floor of the dining hall, and he looks up in time to see Rodney standing, too.

Their eyes meet, just for an instant, and Rodney nods at him. Radek nods back, then refocuses on his work. The second level, of course, is more difficult, what with not having a stable table underneath the cards as a base, but all it really takes to be successful, Radek knows, is a steady hand, which is what they are here to determine, after all.

This contest will not be won on the second level, though—Radek, quite frankly, will be disappointed if it is—and indeed, it’s not. Nor is it won on the third level. At the beginning of the fourth, when Radek asks for his fifth deck of cards, he looks up and sees that even more people have gathered around the table. Now, there are scientists behind Rodney, too, and out of the corner of his eye, he is pretty sure that he sees some military green on his own side.

People, he sees, are talking in hushed voices, pointing at the card buildings, with looks of something like awe on their faces. Radek takes a moment to look at the structures himself. The table, while not small, is looking quite full. In fact, between the base levels of their structures, there is less than one fist length; it was not that way before, he does not think, and that’s when he realizes that while he was so wrapped up in constructing his own building, Rodney was expanding upon his own, making additions. His base is larger than Radek’s is now, but somehow, Radek is pretty sure that that does not mean it is more solid. Additions are additions, after all, tacked on and not built into the structure.

He gets back to work. Level four is finished and level five is halfway there when he realizes that now the room is silent around them, and he does not hear even so much as a breath being drawn. He looks over at the Colonel, who is not slouching any longer, but is sitting forward with his elbows balanced on his knees. He’s looking between Radek and Rodney, and smiles when he catches Radek’s gaze.

Radek takes a deep breath, wipes his hands on his pants, and gets back to work. He loses himself in the quiet of the room, in the precision of his task, the balance of it all, paying attention only to his cards, and his ever-growing structure, and what Rodney is doing across the table from him.

It is like a hundred other nights they’ve spent in Atlantis, he thinks, up late and alone in the dark, still lab.

In those instances, though, they would be talking, exchanging ideas, asking each other to hand over tools, or look at this, that. Maybe Radek would ask Rodney if he could turn something on, or Rodney would want a second opinion on whatever it was that he was working on.

It is like that, doing this, except that they are working against each other now—but still, Radek thinks, almost together, because as he looks across the table, he sees that his tower of cards and Rodney’s are at exactly the same height, around the same size. It is as if they are still, despite appearances to the contrary, working together.

Indeed, at the same time, they hold out their hands to the Colonel, waiting for their next deck of cards, and then the Colonel says the unthinkable.

"Sorry, Rodney, Dr. Z, but I think we’re going to have to call this a draw."

"Draw?" Rodney asks. "Are you insane? You want us to call this a draw?"

And again, Radek finds himself agreeing with Rodney, which just should not be during a competition such as this. But he, too, turns towards the Colonel and sets his hands on his hips.

"There is no ‘draw,’" he says, and on the other side of the table, Rodney nods frantically.

"It has to be a draw," John says. "We don’t have any more cards."

"What?" Rodney asks. "We come to Atlantis and we only bring, bring—" Radek can see him doing the mental math, trying to remember how many decks of cards he’d used, and so Radek does the same. He needed number five to start the fourth level, and then he’d been on number seven to start the sixth, and now—

"Eighteen decks," the Colonel said. "Between the two of you, you used eighteen decks, and guess what. They’re both still standing, so guess what that means: draw."

And with that, he picks up one of the Jokers that had been pulled out of the decks to start with, and does something even more unthinkable. He reaches towards the space between their buildings, down towards the base, and lets it drop onto the space between their two roofs, bridging the gap. Lets it drop, lets it float down, and Radek can see it turning, buffeted by a soft current of air coming from the air filtration system, knows that Rodney sees it turning too from the little gasp he hears coming from the other side of the table.

It is as if the world turns to slow motion, because he sees the card, but he cannot stop it, cannot change its course, cannot do anything but watch as it slides into the wall card on the second story of Rodney’s building. Not hard, not at all, but it is enough to make the whole thing wobble and since Radek’s building is now connected to it, it makes his building wobble too. He can only watch as Rodney’s structure starts falling in on itself, as his starts to, too, and he hears many ‘oh no!’s coming from around the room. It is bad and in a few seconds, it is all gone, Radek’s creation and Rodney’s, and they look at each other. Stare, and Radek can tell that Rodney is thinking the same things he is, but he is the one to say, "Truce?"

Rodney nods, and in union, they turn back towards the Colonel. He is watching the mess on the table, too, but then he seems to realize that he is the subject of two glares. He takes a step backwards, then balances himself on a chair that he was about to trip over, and says, "Well, that was an entertaining way to spend the afternoon." And then he hits the button on his radio, and says, "Dr. Weir? That meeting you were wanting to have? I think now might be a good time for it." And he’s still backing away from them, one step at a time, and Radek and Rodney are moving forward again, the rest of the Atlanteans in the room very wisely moving out of their way.

"I’ll go for his feet," Rodney says. "You try to tackle him."

"You are bigger," Radek says. "You tackle, and I will go for his feet."

"You’re quicker," Rodney says, but before they can begin with the friendly yelling again, the Colonel makes it clear of the tables, turns around and starts running. Radek hears one of the marines behind him call, "Good luck, Sir!" and he can hear Dr. Weir’s voice over the radio saying, "John? John?"

"You cannot hide, Colonel!" Radek calls, and Rodney echoes him. "You hear that, Sheppard? We will find you, wherever you go!" Then, more softly, "Lab, life signs detector."

"Yes, I was thinking the same thing," Radek says, and even though one helpful marine points in the direction that the Colonel apparently went, they head in the other direction, jogging, laughing.

As they skid around a corner, Radek says, "Rematch tonight? In the labs?"

"Of course," Rodney says, and Radek thinks, draw indeed.