Followup to Scientist, Wraith Killer, Space Pilot and Double O Geek

Not mine, no money made, don't sue

Rated for language only

Geek Protocol

I’d learned a lot of things since coming to the Pegasus galaxy. I’d learned to not judge books by their neurotic covers. I’d learned that some women here could kick my ass in hand to hand and barely work up a sweat in the process. I’d also learned that the whole not leaving a man behind credo can really come back to bite you in the ass.

I’d learned other things—less earthshaking, but still good to know. Like don’t give astrophysicists wedgies unless you wanted to spend an entire week ionized and being shocked by every single thing you touch. I’ve found out that when they say no alcohol through the stargate that certain Czech scientists take that as a personal challenge and promptly blow up a lab fermenting vodka out of alien potatoes. I’ve discovered mellow, goodhearted Scots physicians will have their nurses unnecessarily shave portions of your anatomy if you give them too much lip in the infirmary.

By the most important thing I’ve learned, by far and away, was that if the local natives throw a banquet in your honor, they’ll be trying to shoot your ass off before you finish your after-dinner mint. It’s an immutable law of diplomacy in the Pegasus galaxy. Dinner equals death.

I had to say it though…it was a prime spread, a real Thanksgiving style banquet. Yeah, I had to say it.

“They’re just like the Genii. Didn’t I say it?” McKay threw an arm across the table scattering the top layer of debris off and began running his hands quickly to and fro looking for a trigger to the operations panel. “Didn’t I say Genii clones? Didn’t I?”

“Actually,” I corrected, slamming the toe of my boot into a twitching guard’s jaw to put him out like a light, “you said, ‘Cake.’ Or more precisely, ‘Oooh, cake.’ You can see how that might have thrown me. As warnings go, it’s pretty oblique.”

“Oh, shut up and think at something, would you?” he snapped, finding the panel and prying it open with the smallest of screwdrivers. “Christ, I know everyone expects me to save the day. I know I’m the foremost expert in…well, everything…but I can’t do it all, all right? I simply can’t do it all. So if you could help me out the tiniest bit I would appreciate it.”

I looked around at the five men littering the floor. All of them were a victim of either my bullet or the butt of my gun. “Yeah, sorry there, Rodney. I’ll try to hold up my end better.”

I didn’t take his raving to heart. Everyone did expect him to pull a rabbit out of a hat, time and time again. And he actually did it, time and time again. He was entitled to a little ranting and raving. Not that he usually wasted any time in running with the privilege.

He scowled, swore at the sparks that flew in his face, and repeated, “Think.”

Snorting, I stationed myself at the door and thought. The civilization we’d contacted…hell, the one horse, gate-less excuse of a town…was built on the ruins of an Ancient outpost. Or so McKay said as he waved his arms and gibbered about energy signatures when we’d made our entry in the Jumper. If that were true, I should be able to activate something with a swift mental kickstart.

Nothing.

Nada.

Zip and zilch.

“Are you thinking or not?” came the exasperated demand.

“Yes, McKay,” I answered with slightly strained patience, “I’m thinking.”

“Are you sure?”

“Believe it or not, I do it almost every day,” I said dryly. “I’m thinking, okay? There’s nothing here.” Or if there was some remaining Ancient technology, it was deader than dead. It was a state we would soon be relating to intimately if we didn’t catch a break and soon. In a less desperate situation, I would’ve suggested McKay try making the attempt himself…just for the entertainment value. While I was born with the ATA gene, Rodney had his via gene transfer. It worked…more or less…but it took a lot more effort and a helluva lot more practice time with each and every device. As I was fond of telling him, I had the Maserati and he had the Volkswagen. We’d both get to the same destination; I’d just get there sooner, set up camp and be drinking Margaritas by the time he rolled in.

Ever seen an astrophysicist foam at the mouth? Good times, people. Good times.

This, however, was not a good time. I heard running footsteps coming from down the hall. I lifted the

90 to my shoulder and waited. When Ford came pelting around a corner I eased up on the trigger. He had Zelenka in tow and the long haired Czech was panting from the exertion. Both were unharmed at first glance and I exhaled harshly in relief. I’d promised myself two months ago…no more Abrams. No more Gauls. Not again. It was probably a futile promise. In this place…in the Pegasus galaxy, I couldn’t keep all my geeks safe, no matter how much I wanted to. No matter how hard I tried. But it was a promise I’d go down fighting to keep.

I gave Zelenka a reassuring slap on the shoulder and urged him on into the room. “Help out McKay, Dr. Z. Your fellow genius is coming up dry.” He bobbed his head, pushed his glasses up with determination, and hurried to McKay’s side. Just like that. No why, where, what…no panic. He simply jumped into the sinking ship and started bailing. One hell of a scientist, one hell of a guy.

“If I’m coming up dry, Major, then it’s because there’s nothing to find.” The screwdriver was tossed aside and he dug both hands into the depths of the decrepit control panel to pull out double handfuls of clear plastic tubing. “And if that’s the case, then the readings were wrong, okay? Wrong.”

“You mean you were wrong,” Ford said grimly.

“No,” McKay shot back darkly. “I was not wrong. The readings were wrong. Perhaps they were fabricated. Maybe it was a trap. I don’t know. But if you would…oh, I don’t know…be quiet maybe? For a second? And let me work, then I might find out.”

Ford didn’t care for the geek smackdown and it was reflected in the setting of his jaw. I’d been noticing a certain attitude towards the academic types of late. And that, in turn, was something I didn’t care for. We, the military, were guardians on this mission. Our job…our one and only job…was to protect the true heart and soul of the team. Without the scientists we’d lose Atlantis. Without them we wouldn’t make it back home. Hell, without them there never would’ve been a mission to begin with. Ford was young, and sometimes I thought he lost sight of that. Young or not, if he kept it up, a geek one would the least of his smackdown worries.

Speaking of worries, if the readings had been wrong, we were in a world of shit. The jumper’s power-cell had shattered beyond repair on entry to the planet’s atmosphere. It was over ten thousand years old. And as McKay had pointed out not even the Energizer Bunny had chops like that. The long and short of it was that if we didn’t find a replacement one, we’d be living the rest of our lives on this rock. And that would probably amount to about an hour. Two at the most.

We’d come through the stargate on the outskirts of the solar system. The system itself had a double sun and it played hell with communications. We couldn’t contact Atlantis for help, and by the time we were long enough overdue for Weir to send it on her own, our afore-mentioned short lives would be over. There were seven…count them…seven inhabited planets in the system. Unless they lucked out and hit this one first, they would have to search them all.

How had we chosen this particular planet? Flipped a coin. It was the McKay Sheppard negotiating skills in action. Neither of us could bitch at the result or so went the theory. We’d swooped in and McKay had done his happy dance at the weak flicker of Ancient energy patterns, promptly followed by his panic dance when the cell blew. If I hadn’t been sitting flying the damn thing, I might’ve done a little panic dance of my own. Powerless jumpers have all the soaring capabilities of an overripe watermelon. With Rodney’s ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God’ and Zelenka’s murmured Czech prayers echoing in my ear, I’d brought us down. The down part…that was easy. The staying in one piece part had been a little more difficult.

“I’ve got it!”

McKay’s triumphant cry brought my attention from the hall. Light began to pulse through the tubes he was half buried in. At first it was a skipping stagger, but the pulses picked up speed and rhythm. Abruptly the far wall slid down into the floor to reveal shelves upon shelves of Ancient devices or as I liked to call them…“Great, McKay. Doodads galore. Grab some and let’s go.”

“Well, gee, Major, I thought maybe we’d try taking the ones that work. It’s a novel thought, but let’s go with it, shall we?” He was already in front of the wall and fixing me with an impatient glare. I felt my lip twitch despite the desperation of the situation. Yep, we were in full on Napoleon mode now. “The wall is some form of metallic compound that seems to have shielded them from telepathic commands,” he went on. “So if you wouldn’t mind straining yourself again?” The fingers snapped in a patented McKay hurry up.

That wedgie had so been worth it.

Focusing on a nice, generic ‘on’ in my head, the entire wall blazed to life. White, blue, green, red, yellow, orange, it was blinding and from the shaking that began in the floor, not a little dangerous. McKay covered his eyes with his arm and yelped, “Off! Off!”

“Jeez, McKay, make up your mind.” I flipped the mental switch in my head and the lights dimmed immediately. The floor stabilized as well, an added bonus. “Yeah, I’m thinking they work,” I drawled.

“It’s extraordinary,” Zelenka breathed. He was running his hands over device after device. “There are hundreds, Rodney. Hundreds. What we could do…what we could learn.”

“Shit.” I stiffened at the distant sound of more running feet. “Sorry, Dr. Z, party’s over. Grab the power cells. We’ve got to haul ass.”

The corners of his mouth drooped mournfully, but he loaded up his backpack in seconds. McKay was slower. He stuffed power cells in his pack, but then began scooping up other devices I didn’t recognize. Grabbing a handful of his jacket, I pulled him bodily away. “Now, McKay.”

“But….” His eyes went back to the wall as he shoved one last doodad in his pocket and tried to dig his heels in. “We don’t know what they could do. They could help power the city. They could….”

“They could get our asses killed, that’s what they could do.” I kept towing him behind me, into the hall and into a dead run for several minutes. Ford and Zelenka were on our heels. The place was an underground warren, but we’d already reconned three ways out before locating the treasure trove. “Ford,” I snapped, slowing to a half. “You take Dr Z and go out the east exit. We’ll take the south one and meet you at the jumper.” It would split up our pursuers; give us a better chance. He nodded, but before he could move off I rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. For his ears alone, I murmured grimly, “You get to the jumper with Zelenka or you don’t get there at all. We clear?”

“Clear. Yes, sir,” he said firmly. He might issues with the scientists, but Ford was a soldier. First, last, and always. He would follow orders. Nice to know one of us had the capability.

As we split, McKay called after Zelenka, “Radek.” When the scientist looked back over his shoulder, Rodney said with a false stretch of grin, “Last one to install the jumper’s power cell plans Kavanaugh’s birthday party.”

“I hear he likes chocolate cake. Perhaps you should write that down.” Zelenka gave a more sincere curve of his lips, pushed up glasses, and disappeared around a corner behind Ford. McKay’s shoulders bowed minutely as he watched them go. I wasn’t the only one who bore the weight of Gaul and Abram’s deaths. He’d seen Gaul take his own life. Watched it happen right in front of him. And just as I had my men, Rodney had his. He felt responsible for the scientists under him. He was responsible. I respected the fact that he took it to heart. I respected quite a few things about McKay.

His running skills, however, weren’t one of them.

“Come on, McKay. Let’s get moving.” I gave him a gentle push into motion.

He nodded and exhaled, “Okay…okay.” He fell in beside me, arms pumping and legs churning. And for a while we were lucky. Damn lucky. The halls of the deserted Ancient post were empty. There was nothing but dim and failing light and the grime of ten thousand years. Not one of those trigger-happy sons of bitches from the city above crossed out path.

Not until the very end.

We were almost out. We had another two hallways between us and the great outdoors. Almost fucking there…but isn’t that when it usually happens? Life grants you a shred of hope then gleefully squashes you flat while you’re celebrating. I wasn’t precisely celebrating, but I still got squashed. He was in the ceiling, the bastard. I saw the glint of his gun through the bizarrely artistic latticework of a duct cover head of us. I saw it, but it was too little, too late.

I’d let McKay pull ahead of me a few feet to cover his six. The gun was aimed at him. Aimed at Rodney. Aimed at my geek. No. Absolutely not. No more Gauls, no more Abrams, and damn fucking straight no McKays. Not now. Not ever.

I hit him hard, covered him, and rode him down to the floor. I fired as we fell. I nailed the ambusher. There was the ping of metal on metal and the wet thud of bullets hitting flesh. I got the bastard all right; trouble was…he got me, too. The bullet hit a few inches under my arm, one of the areas unprotected by the flak vest. I felt my rib shatter under the force, but the sensation wasn’t that bad, not really. The kick of an elderly mule, distant and muted. It didn’t even hurt. The bad ones never do. Not at first.

“Major?”

The body plummeted from the ceiling to the floor, and I hoped like ever-loving hell that he was the only one.

“Sheppard.”

McKay was moving under me. I dropped the

90 and put my hands on the floor on each side of him to try to push myself off. It didn’t work too well…I had to do it in fits and starts, but I finally rolled off onto my back. The effort had blackness creeping in the periphery of my vision and I felt a nasty hunger for air. This was more than a busted rib. Shit. Shit. Shit.

McKay’s face loomed into view. He managed to look concerned, demanding, and annoyed all in one. He was wheezing slightly. I’d knocked the breath from his lungs when I’d tackled him to the floor. “Major, are you all right?” I didn’t have a chance to answer the question. Something answered it for me. The annoyance faded from Rodney’s face along with all the color. I saw him swallow and put a hand to the floor beside me. When he lifted it back up, it was stained red. He looked at me with stunned eyes. “John?”

It was that bad then.

“Like a stuck pig, huh?” I said with numb lips. The blackness in my vision was threatening to spread, but I had things to do first, things to say. “Rodney, get your ass out of here.” Yeah, it wasn’t poetic…wasn’t I regret I have but one life to give, but I had more important things on my mind than going out quotable. “Get back to the jumper.”

Still paper white, he scowled instantly. “Right. Like that’s going to happen. Who are they going to point fingers at if I come back without you? Some nameless soldier, or me, the guy who won that damned coin toss?” He ran the back of his hand quickly across his nose, leaving a streak of blood across one cheek, before jerking off his backpack to scramble through it desperately for the first aid kit. “Besides, I can’t fly the jumper. Not after what you did to it. It looks like that twenty-year old beat up Chevy I had in grad school. And I’m not taking the blame for that godawful landing of yours, by the way. No way. No damn way.”

Yeah, it was a little worse for wear after a hard landing, but it would still work…even for McKay. And he knew it. “You stubborn son of a….” I squeezed my eyes shut as the first trickle of pain made itself known. “It’s an order, McKay,” I pushed out between gritted teeth. “Get the hell out of here.”

“But you can’t give me orders, now can you? No, indeed you can’t. I’m not military.” He upended the kit onto the floor to pass a frantic hand through the spilled contents. “If you need proof, you can check my IQ in my personnel file when we get back.”

“Military situation.” Ah Christ. The pain rolled through my chest, hot and molten and I sucked in several breaths before I could finish, “You know protocol.”

“Protocol?” He’d found what he wanted and ripped the package open hurriedly. “Oh, right. Protocol. That book they gave us. Thick, boring. No physics. I didn’t make it through the prologue. It’s propping up a table leg in the lab.”

“McKay.” I tried to push up on my elbows. It was a bad idea. A very bad idea. And I’ve had quite a few in my time. I recognized a doozy when I saw it…when I felt its voracious claws slide through me.

I wasn’t too there after that. My world was a gray haze, soft and smothering. I did feel hands patting my face, shaking my shoulders. There was a vague and distant voice. “Oh, no. No. Don’t you dare, Major. Don’t you dare do this to me. Please don’t do this.”

Huh, I thought bemused, don’t do what? But I wasn’t that curious, not really…not enough to make any sort of effort. I was content enough, drifting in the gray. Slowly though, it began to thin. Light penetrated it in several spots. That wasn’t so bad. It was the up and down motion that had me blinking with confusion and a healthy dose of nausea. There was green. Lots and lots of green. One was a peculiar shadowed green with a hint of blue to it. Then there was the more familiar khaki green. My thoughts roiled around sluggishly until I finally recognized the latter. Pants. Uniform pants. It only took a few more staggering thoughts to come to the conclusion what I was staring at. Dr. Rodney McKay’s ass. Because, hell, being shot just wasn’t enough trauma for the day.

“Down,” I demanded. Actually, I coughed, gagged, and slurred a string of letters that might, in some alternate dimension, resemble the word down. Still, it worked, and that was good enough for me.

Our motion stopped and I was eased out of the fireman’s carry with the utmost care and lowered to the grass. And there was the hero of the day—beet-red, sweating buckets, and breathing like a man two seconds from a heart attack. He crouched beside me, dripping like an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day. “You’re back,” he said numbly. For McKay, that was beyond succinct. I doubt he’d had a first word as a baby. Probably spewed out ten or twenty. The first half ordering that his noble butt be wiped, the second half demanding radium for his toybox.

“Back,” I agreed thickly. Back and not particularly happy with what I found—McKay ensuring himself a bullet in the back because he hadn’t done as I’d said. Getting me to the jumper wasn’t going to happen; it was pretty much hopeless and he knew it. He had to…he was too damn smart not to. He was a scientist and a scientist knew impossible odds when he saw them. He had to know there was really only one way this could play out. Yet here he was.

Playing hero wasn’t his job or his duty; it was mine. That didn’t seem to stop him from being so goddamn determined to save me. Then again, after what had happened with Gaul, maybe it wasn’t that difficult to understand.

I snared his wrist and gripped it as hard as I could. From the crumbling of the foundations behind his set expression, it couldn’t have been much of an effort. “I’m not Gaul, Rodney.” The air was thick as sludge and I had to stop and take a breath after every few words. “Not Abrams. Not your job…to protect me.”

“No, you’re not Gaul or Abrams.” His lips tightened and he rested his forehead in his hand momentarily, before murmuring, “Worse…you’re you.” He straightened, anger and determination sparking in his eyes. “I’m not leaving you, Major. So why don’t you try a little less bitching and a little more constructive advice, okay? Because this is not my area. Running, sweating, carrying you…and I thought you were skinny by the way. How can you weigh five tons? Do you bathe in lead every day? Smuggle Athosians over the border in a compartment I don’t even want to think about? What?”

He was going to get himself killed, no two ways about it, but I couldn’t help the fleeting grin that lifted the corners of my mouth slightly. “You soft-hearted son of a bitch.”

“Flattering, very flattering, and so not helping us right now,” he said with exasperation. “What do I do? Tell me what to do.”

I glanced down at my chest. My vest was open and I could feel a bulky wad of bandages under my shirt. There was the crinkle of plastic when I moved. It was an occlusive dressing, the kind you slapped on a lung shot to restore the negative pressure inside the chest wall and allow the lung to re-expand. I also had the fuzzy warmth of morphine running through my veins. A battlefield dose, it wasn’t enough to make you loopy, but enough to keep the pain at bay long enough for you to do what had to be done. Beckett would be pleased to know his medical drills weren’t in vain.

“You’re doing it already, Rodney.” I took a few more shallow breaths and gave a mock grumble, “Do you have to be…goddamn genius at everything?”

I knew, despite our desperate straits, that would feed his ego and it did. It was the equivalent of a shot of adrenaline to anyone else. Squaring his shoulders, he snorted, “If I didn’t bring you back, Captain Kirk, who would seduce all the space bimbos?”

“We all have…our crosses.” I pulled in several more breaths then ordered peremptorily, “Help me up.”

He quickly slid an arm under my shoulders and carefully eased me up to a sitting position. My body didn’t welcome the change, and I rested my forehead on the top of his shoulder as the world spun in sickening circles. “If I barf on you,” I grimaced, “sorry.”

“Well…hey…barf away,” he said ruefully, supporting me. “It’s Kavanaugh’s vest anyway. I’ve lost mine. Third one actually, I think.”

For a devoutly Orthodox hypochondriac that was true friendship indeed. I’d seen McKay sprint down a hall in terror of being sneezed upon on more than one occasion. But three vests? What the hell was he doing? Trading them for power bars? “Ought to take it out of your pay.” The dizziness subsided and I could breathe better upright. Lifting my head, I exhaled and felt the bile recede. “Did you try to call Ford?”

“Yes, nothing but static.” He scowled up at the double suns slowly setting in a velvety purple sky. “Binary stars. I ask you, why? Why? Actually, of course, I know why. It has to do with….”

“Facing imminent death here, McKay, remember?”

“Oh, right. Right.” He pulled in a deep breath then let it out. “Okay. Can you run? Not that carrying you isn’t a chiropractor’s dream, but….”

Run? Probably not, but I could do my damnedest to hobble like there was no tomorrow. Which, unfortunately, was most likely true. “I guess we’ll see,” I said with grim cheer. “Hoist me up, MacDuff.” With his help, I managed to make it to my feet. He grabbed my arm and slung it over his shoulders then wrapped his around my waist, trying to stay as far from my wound as he could. I felt profoundly weak, dizzy as hell, and short of breath, but the morphine was still holding the pain off.

McKay studied me with a worry that was ill concealed behind his breezy, “Run screaming like little girls?”

“You’re always the man with the plan, McKay,” I grunted. “Let’s go.”

And off we went. At best it was a coordinated stagger, but it covered ground and that’s what mattered. We did better than I believed, lurching through the tall grass. I was breathing heavier and less efficiently than McKay, and he would’ve given me hell about, I knew, if I hadn’t had a bullet in my lung. We went for nearly ten minutes with no sign of pursuit before twin catastrophes struck.

My legs gave out without warning. There had been twin steel bands around my chest tightening with every step. Every breath had grown progressively more difficult and I could feel the burn for oxygen growing. That was what I was focused on, and when another part of me failed, I was more surprised than I should’ve been. I fell and fell hard, taking McKay with me. He rolled and was on his knees instantly. “Major,” he gasped. “Are you….”

His words trailed off as the soldiers came out of the woods to our right. I was down, but I wasn’t out…not yet, and I murmured, “Don’t move.” Rodney had picked up my

90 after I’d been shot and had it slung over his shoulder and a nine mil in his holster. Neither one was going to do him any good. The two that appeared out of the trees already had their guns pointed at us.

He looked at those approaching guns then looked at me. I don’t know what he saw, but I could guess…skin pale gray and clammy with sweat. Pain etched lines and drug blurred eyes. Not exactly space bimbo bait today. I saw the pugnacious jaw firm with determination and I hissed, “McKay, I’m serious. Don’t you goddamn move.”

He hesitated then muttered back, “Okay, okay. Not moving. No movement here. I’m a statue.”

McKay had been right. They were Genii clones. Same paramilitary look, same dull, ruthless eyes. “Stand up, spy,” the bigger one, six seven if he was an inch, ordered, centering the muzzle of his gun on Rodney.

At the mutinous tightening of his lips, I pinched his calf as hard as I could and rasped, “McKay.”

Reluctantly, he stood and moved several feet away at the gun’s prodding. But when the bald one without a neck stepped over to my side and unhooked a metallic circle from his belt, McKay’s tenuous patience fled. “What are you doing? Wait,” he started and tried to move back towards me. He was brought up short by a rifle barrel across his chest. “You stupid sons of bitches,” he snapped. “He’s hurt. He’s been shot. He can’t do anything to you.”

Well…not totally true.

I watched warily as Kojak kneeled beside me. I tried to get my hands under me and push up to a sitting position. I’d almost made it, more or less, when a boot landed on my sternum and pinned me to the ground. It wasn’t good. In no way was it good. The pain that had been dulled swept back with a vengeance. I barely registered the bulky metal collar he clicked around my neck. “You’re not going anywhere now, spy.” Yellow teeth grinned at me.

Like that was news. Funny, we’d only become spies after they figured out our technology was a tad ahead of theirs. Yeah, fucking Genii all over again.

I heard Rodney swearing in a staccato frenzy. “What did you do? He’s injured. Leave him alone. Don’t you have rules about prisoners? Even Neanderthals like you must have some sort of Geneva conventions. Unevolved pieces of….” There was a thud that cut him off and I struggled back up to see him on his knees, hand cupping his jaw, eyes tightly closed against the pain.

Ah, hell, McKay. There aren’t any Geneva conventions out here, and, truthfully, I wasn’t sure we would’ve deserved them if there had been. We hadn’t applied them to Steve, why would they apply to us? It would have to be the one occasion the golden rule actually proved true.

Agony rolled through my chest and I pushed out between clenched teeth, “Rodney…you okay?”

“Swell,” he said thickly, spitting blood into the grass. “Couldn’t be better. Chewing is overrated anyway.” He was jerked to one side as the Jolly Green Giant ripped the pack from his back. There was a metal collar on his belt as well, but he seemed more interested in his newly found prize.

“What do we have here?” the man said with a smirk, sounding for all the world like a bored cop busting a shoplifter.

“Doodads,” McKay said with acid etched sarcasm. “And just try to get them to work, I dare you.”

No slouch, our geek of the moment. No slouch indeed. My thoughts might be a little fuzzy around the edges, but framing a single ‘on’ in my mind? That I could do. The entire pack lit up like a thousand nuclear powered Christmas trees. Bless McKay’s greedy little heart, it looked like his Ancient styled avarice might get us out of this.

Jolly screamed…yeah, that’s right, screamed—not yelled…and dropped the bag. It took him a few seconds to realize he wasn’t blown up or on fire, but by that time it was too late. McKay had whipped a device the size of the palm of his hand out of his pocket and slapped it on the soldier’s upper leg. The device stuck, glowed white, blue then purple and then began to shake…much like the Ancient room had back in the city. Shook like a point nine on the Richter scale. And so did the big guy. He vibrated so violently that he looked like the fast-foward on a videotape…in the beginning. In the end, he looked more like a pile of meaty soup oozing out of a pile of clothes. His partner gawked, swore then aimed his gun at McKay.

I shot him in the back.

Like I’d told Beckett on the occasion of geek bootcamp. The Wraith and Genii aren’t going to charitably wait for you to turn around before plugging you. And neither was I. As a matter of fact, I shot the shithead several times…until he fell. Turn your back on a wounded, unsearched enemy and that’s what happens. Any good soldier would’ve known that. I’d killed, many times, and I had many regrets. But not this time. I’d seen the malevolent glee behind that bastard’s eyes. God help us if they’d gotten us back to the city. “Amateur,” I grunted, flopping back in the grass with the nine-millimeter still in my hand.

There was the muffled thud of footsteps in the grass and McKay slid down beside me. He was fair skinned enough that the enormous blotch on his face was a brilliant crimson red in comparison. He was going to have one hell of a bruise. Should we live so long. “Major, are you…” he panted, pulling up my shirt to check the bandage. From his wince I could tell that son of a bitch’s boot hadn’t done me any good and the question he’d been about to ask was abruptly changed, “…can you get up?”

Actually, I sort of thought I was done. Had enough for the day. Was ready to make myself at home. Hey, double suns, purple sky, tall grass…who wouldn’t love a place like this? Of course, there were the frothing homicidal maniacs, but no place is perfect.

“Rodney…,” I said with weary resignation.

“Oh no,” he cut me off instantly, maybe even desperately. “Don’t you start that crap with me now. I’ve been shot at, punched, turned a man to chunky style beef stew, and it’s not going to be for nothing, you hear me? I’m not going to deal with a Major Ford on a daily basis. I don’t have the stomach for it. Forget lactose intolerant, I’m asshole intolerant, and they don’t make a pill for that.” He was gone and back in seconds with the backpack. “Won’t even play prime not prime,” he muttered as he kneeled, gently centered his shoulder in my stomach, and staggered to his feet. And I was right back where I had been.

Staring at McKay’s ass.

He was allergic to assholes, huh? Made me wonder how he managed to not claw his own skin off. Or how the hell he put up with one John Sheppard…because God knew how many times he’d slapped that label on me. It would’ve been amusing…if not for the whole dying by painful inches thing.

We made it back.

Don’t ask me how. I don’t have a clue. Rodney ran like a geek on fire. It wasn’t a thought one would normally have, but let me tell you…lack of oxygen combined with a hit or morphine will make you think some strange things. And when we actually made it to the jumper I half suspected it was some drug-induced hallucination. Or that maybe someone had slipped me some of Dr. Z’s home brew while I wasn’t looking. Either way, it was a helluva sight…even upside down and gasping like a fish out of water.

“What happened?” rapped Ford’s voice before I actually caught sight of him.

“What do you think?” came McKay’s winded and wheezing retort. “We’re eloping. Help me, damn it.”

Two sets of hands swung me with care to the ground. Zelenka’s appalled face and Ford’s grim one bent over me. There was only one response to all that concern. “I got…cold feet,” I managed to get out.

Ford was already inspecting Rodney’s handiwork at bandaging. He didn’t look any less grim when he looked up. “What’s that around his neck?”

It was a good question. That Kojak son of a bitch seemed very certain I wasn’t going anywhere once that had been fastened around my throat. And oh, by the way, I was not having any sort of fondness for strange things hanging on or around my neck…excluding space bimbos of course.

“Nothing good, I’m sure,” McKay said, mopping sweat from his face. “But we don’t have time to ponder the badness of it now, okay? We need to get back to Atlantis. Fast.”

“Getting bossy…again, McKay.” I wrapped an arm around my side. “Get me….” I didn’t have time to get out the rest of it. My collar began to beep. “Oh, shit.” I wasn’t sure if that was my ‘oh shit’ or someone else’s. It was definitely in stereo…maybe even a chorus.

McKay in particular seemed to take it as a personal affront. “Things that beep are never good. Goddamnit, never, ever good.” He was kneeling beside me and he swiveled to pound his fist against the grass dirt. “Never.” Once. “Ever.” Twice. “Any fucking good.” A third and final time then he stopped, took a breath, and said calmly, “Okay then, let’s get to work. Radek, sit the major up.” As Zelenka helped me upright and settled in behind me to act as support, McKay dug out a set of tiny tools. “I searched for remotes on the soldiers,” he said as he ran a thumb along the metal around my neck until there was a minute click. “Gotcha,” he murmured before continuing, “But neither one had anything. Not even beef stew.”

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed at that last bit, but he kept silent. The collar wasn’t as cooperative. It began to beep progressively faster and from the periphery of my admittedly hazy vision, I could see blinking lights speed up as well. McKay had apparently found some sort of access because he was now probing with a tiny screwdriver. This close I could smell the sweat pouring down his face, see the darkening bruise and the swelling jaw, and I could see the nervous tic at the corner of his hyperfocused eye.

“I’m screwed, right?” The words were weak and slurred, but he heard them.

“Shut up,” he said absently, hand moving faster. “Where is the…damn it…dummy circuits everywhere. Bomb happy Neanderthal mother f….”

“Rodney, get back.” The beeping was more of a continuous whine now and our time was up. “Dr. Z, go.”

“Shut up, shut up,” McKay muttered in a sing-song. “I’ve almost…damn it.”

“Ford,” I rasped. “Take him and Z now.”

Ford took a step forward, conflicting motions spilling across his face—anger, fear, sorrow. “Forget it,” Rodney snapped. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not going.” Zelenka shifted behind my back, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to preserve his own life either.

“Ford, now,” I ordered. “Choke McKay out if you have to. Do it.”

He took another step and that’s when the explosion came. Fortunately for us it was the McKay kind. “Look,” he bit off savagely at Ford. “I’ve had it, okay? I have absolutely had enough. This had been the worst day since we came through that damn naquadah donut and it’s not going to end this way. It’s not. So you just try taking one more step, Lieutenant, just one more. Hell, make it a baby step, I don’t care. Just try taking it and I’ll put a bullet in the foot that does.”

His hands were still working feverishly, but there was no denying the nine mil in his holster. “Rodney, Christ,” I said wearily, “you’re not going to shoot Ford.”

“Oh, yes, I will. No big deal, really. Just in the foot. Beckett will have him up and around in a week. Good as new,” he shot back. “I can do it, Major. You know I can. You were the one who taught me to shoot. If I can shoot a Wraith, I can take on a foot, no problem. Who knows? I might…might even enjoy it.”

The tic beside his eye was gone now and nothing but sheer determination could be found in his face. I didn’t need to be a physicist to recognize an immovable object. I could’ve made a grab for his gun, but at that point I doubted seriously I could’ve gotten my hand off the grass. Hell. Hell. “Back off, Ford,” I said with resignation. “Back to the jumper.” I coughed, swallowed, and pasted a grin on my face. “Looks like me and the mad scientists are going out together.”

“No,” McKay countered. “Radek, go with the lieutenant.”

Zelenka gave a gentle snort at my ear. “You talk entirely too much, Rodney.” And there was our irresistible force to go with our immovable object. His head leaned closer to mine and he pushed up his glasses. “See the triple mercury style switch, to the left….”

“Got it. Got it.” The collar was vibrating now and I decided, what the hell? It might be cowardly to close my eyes, but who was going to know? St. Peter? I screwed my eyes shut, but opened them again as McKay yelled, “Yes!” The collar clicked open and McKay yanked it off my neck and tossed it like a frisbee. By lucky accident, and I know that’s what it was, the toss was away from the jumper. The explosion wasn’t too large. More than enough for one major and two scientists, but it only took out one tree.

Eyes wide, McKay watched as what was left of the burning tree slowly toppled. Then he swallowed, turned green, and dropped his forehead on top of my shoulder. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”

“Sorry, Rodney,” I said as the world’s edges began to soften dramatically. “Not Kavanaugh’s vest. Mine. Hold your puke.”

“Asshole intolerant,” he reminded thickly against my shoulder before straightening and running a hand through his short hair. It stuck up in spikes and clumps and gave mine a serious run for its money.

“Yeah,” I curved my lips. “Me, too.”

They hustled me onto the jumper and despite the whole threatened assault of foot with deadly weapon incident, I thought I saw a grudging respect in Ford’s eyes when he looked at McKay and Zelenka. “Quite a day,” Zelenka said calmly as he pulled the oxygen mask over my face. “No wonder Rodney is so fond of field work.”

I rolled my eyes in disbelief at McKay as he turned from the pilot’s seat with an identical incredulous expression. “Eyes on the road, McKay,” I murmured. He couldn’t have possibly heard me, as weak as my voice was, and Zelenka helpfully repeated the command for me.

Rodney snorted, turned back, and the jumper took off. Like a bat out of hell would be a good description. A drunken bat. A drunken bat on crack. There was a hard rattle of treetops against the bottom of the ship and Ford yelped from the co-pilot’s seat, “Holy shit!” Seconds later the ship shook and Ford shouted, “What the hell do you have against birds, McKay? Christ, don’t…shit!”

It went on like that for probably longer than I was aware. I was drifting by then. Oxygen, more morphine, fluids. Zelenka wasn’t Beckett, but he was a damn good substitute in a pinch. His worried eyes stayed trained on me for the entire trip home, and he patiently reassured McKay at what seemed like five second intervals. It should’ve taken two hours to get back, but if it did, I couldn’t remember. Seemed like we were setting down minutes after we took off. Then there was Beckett and his crew and Rodney in the thick of it. Waving his arms, snapping and snarling, generally getting in the way. I hoped I’d remember the moment so I could give him hell later. But I probably wouldn’t…give him hell, that is. He’d had to be in control through some pretty godawful ordeals throughout the day. Tightly in control…one slip and one or both or all of us could’ve died. Once things are back to normal and the crisis is over, it’s not so easy to let go. All that adrenaline, all that fear…it swirls within you with no where to go. No way out.

But as they were taking me away, I could see fuzzily that McKay was trotting determinedly behind. Until suddenly he faltered and staggered a bit before leaning heavily against a wall. Zelenka and a nurse stopped with him. I think it was the one who’d shaved me. I went under reassured. Rodney was in good, if sadistic hands.

The next two days I pretty much missed altogether. There was surgery, chest tubes…not a fun time I was given to understand. The third day I woke up. I was nauseous, dry mouthed, and as loose as a goose. It took a few minutes to get my mouth working enough to call for someone, but by that time Weir had shown up. She filled me in on things…everyone was fine. McKay was fine. His jaw wasn’t broken only bruised, although Beckett had given serious consideration to wiring it shut anyway, she’d noted with amusement. The jumper was repairable, even with the damage McKay added to it while flying hell bent for leather. When I was more alert and propped up with pillows courtesy of a nurse, she got down to business.

“Major, Ford had quite a story to tell me.” She’d pulled up a chair and was idly tapping a finger on a folder. McKay’s personnel folder from the looks of it.

“Yeah?” I yawned, grinned, then yawned again. Forget milk, morphine does a body good.

“Indeed he did.” Her eyes narrowed on me as she leaned foward. “And McKay himself backed up every word. So what exactly can you tell me about Rodney threatening to shoot Lieutenant Ford?”

Ford might’ve grown a little respect for my geeks, but he was still a spit and polish GI Joe. He told the truth and only the truth and couldn’t imagine it any other way. Was I ever that goddamn young?

“Shoot Ford? You’ve got to be kidding.” I gave her a sleepily curious smile. “I don’t recall anything out of the ordinary.”

“No?” she said with a skeptical lift of an eyebrow.

“Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.” I yawned again, hoping she’d take the hint. No such luck.

“Funny, isn’t it? Zelenka said nearly the same thing.” She leaned back. “When he wasn’t quite suddenly losing the command of his once formerly excellent English.”

“It’s a puzzler.” I moved slightly, winced, then said humbly, “You know, I think I need my catheter changed. Would you….”

“Get the nurse?” Thwarted for the moment, she stood and folded her arms, looking exactly…exactly like the head of the PTA at my junior high. The wraith are attacking…quick, to the bake sales! Macaroons and brownies can defeat any adversary. “I’d be happy to, Major. Perhaps a much smaller one is required.” The protest was already on my lips when I saw the quick wink she threw me.

Snorting, I leaned back against the pillows and drawled, “You can come out now, McKay.”

The curtain separating my bed from the next was pulled back and McKay whispered, “Is she gone?”

I snorted again. “Get your ass over here.”

Face purple from chin to ear on one side, he moved stiffly over to ease inch by inch into the chair at my bedside. He looked at me a little uncertainly, as if I was an experiment he wasn’t too sure about. I could go either way…bright and shiny or stinky and poured down the lab drain. “You okay? Beckett said you were, but then again the man wanted to wire my jaw shut,” he finished, aggrieved. “He’s a sadist, pure and simple. Oh, sure, he tries to fool us with that whole teddy bear, cuddly Scot routine, but I think….”

“Rodney,” I said patiently, cutting him off without compunction. “I’m all right.” I lifted the sheet and peered beneath it for a second. “And I still have some body hair, so I’m ahead of the game.” Dropping the sheet, I went on, “How about you? You look like you took on Mike Tyson’s kid sister and lost.”

He looked confused for a moment over the hair remark but then scowled, “I could take his sister…right? Well…maybe.” At my jaundiced glance, he answered, “I’m viable for life. That’s about it. I strained every muscle in my back hauling you around, my jaw is killing me, and my allergies are never going to be the same.” On cue he sneezed wetly and felt around for the box of kleenex on my bedside table. “Damn grass and trees. Godawful planet with its wretched binary star system.”

Yeah, he was all right. I shifted as I noticed something beside the box of kleenex. It was a book…our rules, regulations, and protocol manual. Someone had been ripping out the pages and folding them into tiny origami figures. Not the usual cranes and tigers though. These were jumpers and stargates and a creature that was a cross between a squirrel and a rabbit. There were hundreds of them. That someone had apparently spent a lot of time the past few days at my bedside defacing government property.

“You didn’t have to lie for me, you know,” he said quietly, rolling up the tissue into a ball. “I can face up to the consequences of my actions.”

“I didn’t lie,” I contradicted mildly. “I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.” He flashed me a look of bright suspicion and I went on, “Seriously. I didn’t. I did see you step up to the plate, do some crazy shit, and then hit a homerun. But that’s typical Rodney McKay in my book. Absolutely ordinary.”

He tilted his head and gave a hesitant smile, “Yeah? So, I’m off the hook?”

“Hell no.” I gave him a grin that would’ve done any shark proud. “When I get out of here, your ass is grass. I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born. But….” I raised my hand solemnly in the air. “It’ll be done in the spirit of utmost gratitude and warmest friendship, I swear.”

“Great,” he said glumly, sliding down in the chair. “Lucky me.”

“Don’t worry,” I offered cheerfully. “You won’t be alone. I’m sending Ford to wash test tubes in the lab for a week. I want you to make an honorary geek out of him.” I wanted Ford to see what I saw. I wanted him to truly see what we were here to protect, and, by God, he’d scrub beakers until he did.

“You’re one heartless bastard, aren’t you?” he grumbled. “Here I am…a hero. I should be getting some sort of award for bravery, nobility, grace under fire. Something, but noooo….”

I let him carry on in that vein for a while then extended a hand through the rails of my bed. “Hey, McKay.”

He disengaged from his rant and blinked at my offered hand. “Um….what?”

I gave my hand an impatient shake and he slowly slid his into it. I clasped it. “Thanks for saving my life.”

He blinked and grinned. “Okay…well, yeah…okay.” He gave my hand a squeeze in return.

“Do it again,” I tightened my grip, “and I’ll take that protocol book and put it where the sun doesn’t shine.”

He didn’t seem too impressed with the threat. Letting go of me, he absently straightened the corner of my blanket then reached back to pull the book into his lap. He flipped through what was left of the pages. “You know, a protocol book isn’t that bad an idea…it just wasn’t written by the right group. Maybe I’ll pen one. Geek Protocol. Thou shalt obey a geek in all things. Thou shalt worship a geek for his unmatchable wisdom. Thou shalt never, ever compare a geek to a Volkswagen….”

Attila the Nurse walked in at that moment carrying an ominous package of clear tubing. “Yes,” Rodney said instantly before she opened her mouth. “The Major here needs his catheter changed, and he wonders if you could shave the area first. I know it’s not necessary;” he shrugged and gave her a conspiratorial glance, “he just likes it.”

At my outraged glare, he added with dark glee, “Thou shalt never piss off a geek.”

Truer words were never spoken.

The End.