A Geek in the Grass

Thanks to Cattie for the Czech and to a certain hilarious Darklady video for the Robin Hood reference. Also thanks to Smushy (to whom the long-suffering Lt. Barclay belongs) and vid queen Derry-Jo-Stu (choke, gasp) for pointing out my more glaringly egregious plot error.

Just a bit of fluff...until the new season everything is AU-ish and what can you do? Fluff...that's what. And a bit of a one-time departure...I go back to strictly John POVafter this.

I said I wouldn't WIP again (of course that was said before I noticed a WIP dramatically increases feedback...who knew?) Regardless, not a WIP. It isdone. The rest will be posted tomorrow (and yes, that's a fine, selling your soul to the devil line to walk...but there you go.)

Spoilers for everything there is...

“Okay, this is bad, right?” I looked up at the Stargate…or what was left of the Stargate. Its basic structure was intact, more or less. But from the chained lightning racing around its circumference, the flying sparks, and the smoking ruins of the DHD, its function was now probably more decorative than useful. Much like a certain chemist who shall remain nameless…at least until Dr. Z came up with something far worse than Madame Curie.

Speaking of, the fuzzy haired little Czech pushed up his glasses, folded his arms, and bent at the waist to squint into the smoke. I’d taken a look already. There wasn’t anything good to see. Components were melted or disintegrated altogether within the DHD and I had the distinct feeling that was the best news. If the gate didn’t de-energize soon, we would be looking at a big round naquada bomb. And as Dr. Z had already told me, I had very long, very skinny legs, but even I wouldn’t be able to outrun that blast. “Is difficult to say, Major.” Zelenka straightened and sighed. “Bad is such a relative term, yes?”

“Shit.” I threaded a hand into my hair. “Shit. Shit. Shit. He’s going to kill me. Flat out, with extreme prejudice destroy my ass.”

“Rodney? Ah…yes, he would, but to look on bright side.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and I had the feeling was wishing for two or maybe even ten Tylenol. “Very probably gate will never work again. He will not be able to reach us and your ass will remain unprejudiced.” With a glum expression, he reached for a powerbar and took a bite. “We will live out our lives here in this hideous place. They will be no doubt short and brutal, marked by disease and violence. With no other humans, there will be no females and so we will be forced into desperate actions of men with needs…needs so strong that….” That was about the time I happened to oh-so-casually chamber a round in my nine mil, and he grinned to himself, undaunted. “Or I could fix gate and we go home one maybe two days.”

I fixed eyes, bright with suspicion, on him. “You’re lying like a dog, aren’t you, Dr. Z? You have a habit of that.”

He shrugged and took another bite as lightning continued to flare, purple and fierce. “Unvarnished truth is greatly overrated, I’m thinking.”

I turned and looked at the gate again. Shaking my head, I drawled, “You know, you may just be right. I’ll take the lie.”

I didn’t have a problem with the occasional lie. Hey, I was a realist, but if one wanted to feed me a spoonful of sugar, I’d take a taste before moving on to grimmer things. A little self-deception is a good thing, keeps us sane. I would face the reality, but I’d entertain a happy lie…for as long as it was safe to. And sometimes lies can become truth…if you give them the opportunity.

Unfortunately, our opportunity suddenly became much slimmer.

It moved so fast, so fleeting, I didn’t see it so much as hear the whistle of its passing. An arrow, metal and ugly rammed through my upper leg, dropping me instantly. Suddenly I was less worried about Rodney killing me than someone else killing me.

“Major!” Zelenka lunged to my side and dodged frantically as more arrows flew. “Do not be broken. If you are broken, Rodney me zabije, jestli to zjisti. Pomoz mi. Rodney will do to me…horrible, horrible things.”

Damn, I hated that for him. “Radek, Jesus, get the hell down.” I fisted a hand in his shirt and yanked him flat onto the ground. From the ominous whistling sounds that went overhead, it was just in time. I rested a hand on his back and fired the nine millimeter. The vibrations passed through my hand and probably shook his spine like castanets, but he stayed silent. When the last explosion died away he peeked up from the dirt to look at me, his face slightly pale. “It was just two,” I gritted between clenched teeth, the coldness in my leg turning to a throbbing agony. “I got ‘em.” I’d thought I’d gotten all of the raiding party just after the gate malfunction, but apparently some stragglers had been a few miles out and hurriedly slithered on in.

“That is good. That is good indeed. I like the getting of those who wished to turn us to porcupines.” As he sat up cautiously, he added shakily, “Major, you’re wounded.”

Wounded. That was the polite way of saying my leg had been speared like a particularly tasty game fish. “You’re bleeding.” Also, polite…and somewhat less than completely descriptive. I was bleeding…a lot. It was soaking my pants…soaking the ground. The stench of it was in the air…copper, thick, cloying.

“Um…Dr. Z?”

He’d gone from slightly pale to white in the space of a heartbeat. “I am not liking blood so much. I wonder, did I not mention this to anyone? Yes, missions I like, explosions are annoying but acceptable, but please as to not bleed if possible.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. “Zelenka?”

“I’d seen wounded before, yes? Who in Atlantis has not?” That long, fly-away hair was suddenly soaked with sweat. “But always with bandages in place. One could avert their eyes then and oh…the sky here is quite lovely. Gold and purple and black…black….” His eyes rolled up and he fell over into a crumpled heap…just like that. I looked at him, looked at my gushing leg, spared a glance for a now ominously humming gate and sighed.

“Just one mission. Goddamnit.”

“It’s just for this one mission, that’s all,” Sheppard promised. “One.” I could tell from the self-deprecating twist of his lips that he felt more and more like an asshole with every word. Good. He should have. He should’ve felt like the biggest asshole in the Pegasus galaxy because that’s what he was. One huge, macho asshole. Look at me, Atlantis, I can survive a mission quite nicely without the Glory and the Genius…without the unparalleled excellence that is Rodney McKay.

As if.

“One mission,” I repeated and nodded pleasantly. “Just the one?”

He nodded back, a little more warily, and confirmed, “Just the one.”

“Hmmmm.” I turned my attention back to the internal workings of what had once been an Ancient holographic projector. All its burned out parts were projecting now was abject failure and rampant annoyance. “Yes, sorry, I don’t think so.”

“McKay,” he growled. “I’m serious, okay? And don’t start pulling your shit with me. I’m not in the mood.”

I rolled my eyes, wholly unimpressed by his snit-fit, then slanted a glance at him. He leaned against the lab table with arms folded and dressed in his usual black. Black shirt, black pants, it made him look thinner than he was…and God knew he was thin enough to begin with. The man was a scarecrow’s malnourished brother, and that hadn’t improved any with his latest stay in the infirmary. Sighing, I fished in my labcoat pocket and tossed him a powerbar, chocolate chip…I’d really been looking forward to that one, too. “Eat. If you turn sideways, you’ll disappear and I may forget who I’m talking to.”

He snorted, but caught it easily and ripped open the package. His eyebrows rose. “Chocolate chip, Rodney? I don’t know what to say. This is so sudden. Wait until I tell my parents.”

As I’d said…asshole. But asshole or not, he was my asshole…er…so to speak, and I watched with narrowed eyes until he finished the bar. It had been three weeks since his little flirt with time travel and near explosive decompression. Carson had just cleared him for gate travel and despite the fact I frequently told Beckett that the only thing his medical degree was fit for was the wiping of Canadian ass, I did respect his opinion. Mostly. If he said John was ready, then he was ready. But…the whites of his eyes were still faintly pink from burst blood vessels and he was still down about seven or ten pounds. On a normal person that would be nothing…on a walking toothpick like John Sheppard, it wasn’t good. All those angles, harsh and abrupt, it was like a bad Geometry midterm…gah…how could any self-respecting scientist possibly focus on his work at hand?

Scowling, I swept the dead components into a drawer and snapped, “You make my eyes hurt. Let’s discuss your inane and idiotic ‘one mission’ plan over lunch.” I started for the door. “Has Carson weighed you lately? I mean, yes, he’s metaphorically blind, deaf, and dumb to all medical advances that don’t involve Scottish sheep, but surely he can actually exercise his eyes to see you’re a skeleton with distressingly bad hair.” I didn’t bother to look over my shoulder when I didn’t hear his footsteps; I simply snapped my fingers. “Chop, chop, Major. It’s Tuna Surprise day in the cafeteria. If we’re not early I won’t get a corner piece.”

“Extra cheese?” came the dry question.

“Extra cheese,” I said, pleased. It’s nice when your friends understand and share your interests.

In the cafeteria, I loaded up my tray with double portions and paused to make a special request to Private Yollinger, our version of the lunch lady. In the line behind me, I could hear the all too familiar growling of the bear-like Lieutenant Barclay. The man seemed to begrudge me every bite of food I took, as if he could possibly need it more than I did. Not bothering to look at him, I pointed out with perfect logic, “Lieutenant, I build nuclear warheads as a hobby. Do you really want to annoy me over the last piece of Tuna Surprise?” The growling stopped. “Yes, precisely as I thought.”

By the time my special request was ready, the line behind me was quite long and I could hear Radek’s mumbled cursing quite clearly. I hurried on. I didn’t fear Barclay, but Radek? I wasn’t an idiot. The man had single-handedly driven Kavanagh to shrinkage and Heightmayer to seek combat pay.

When I reached our table, Sheppard was nearly half done with his food…one square of Surprise, a roll, and a glass of Athosian goat milk. I dropped my tray and let my hands fly. “All right. That’s it. I’ve let you be, I’ve given you space to be an adult. Obviously, I’ve vastly, vastly overestimated you on that account.” Picking up my plate, I took my fork and scraped the double portion onto his place. Casserole, another roll, a helping of some sort of buttery squash, a pudding cup, and a healthy pile of pseudo mashed potatoes. As the piece de resistance, I put the tall glass to his right. “Drink.”

He looked at the pile of food on his plate before picking up the glass and sniffing at its contents dubiously. “Do I even want to know?”

“It’s a milkshake, Major. Banana. Or whatever tasted like banana from our last food trade.” I sat down and dug into my own casserole. “And you better drink every drop. It cost me one trip to the mainland.”

“Like I don’t shuffle your ass over there for free anyway,” he snorted. Taking a swallow, his eyes widened slightly. “Hey, it’s not bad.”

I waved a fork. “That’s nice, but it wouldn’t matter if it tasted like Sergeant Bates’ pureed jockstrap, you’d drink it anyway.” I clanged the fork against his plate to draw his attention there. “Get to work. You’ve a long, long way to go. And I have better things to do, believe it or not, than sit here and babysit your scrawny ass.”

“Awww.” His lips twitched. “I get it. You’re worried about me. That’s so sweet, McKay. You’re like the Grinch when his heart grew three sizes. I think I’m tearing up here. Give me your napkin.”

What I actually gave him was a hard kick to his shin under the table before continuing to eat. My heart was the same and, I might add, the perfect size that it had always been. Still, the hard truth was that I was worried…only a little, of course. Friends were hard to make. You had to invest too much time, too much work, and…good God…all that tiptoeing around feelings. Christ. If you’re going to spend that much effort on something, it should be spent in the lab. No one ever won a Nobel by having coffee while discussing dating woes and that weird fungus that had stymied your doctor.

But with Sheppard, it had been easy. Remarkably so. Underneath all the guns and Kevlar, the man was a closet geek. He was like the rest of us. He was smart, a Math God…not that I’d admit it to his face…he hated Kavanagh, he enjoyed playing with Ancient toys and admired the occasional explosion, and he’d never once told me about any strange fungus that might afflict him. It didn’t get any better than that, honestly. I couldn’t afford to lose him to malnutrition. He was my friend, he was a good one, and I didn’t have time to worry about replacing him with another. Although I suppose I could build one….

“Rodney.” A long finger tapped me on the back of my hand.

I winced. It was a tone I’d grown to become familiar with since the Stargate had spit us unceremoniously from Earth to Atlantis. I concentrated on scraping up the last bit of mashed potatoes. “What?” I grumbled. “Can’t you see I’m eating? Some of us don’t require instructions and a personal coach for that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he snorted. More quietly, he added knowingly, “Thanks.”

There it was. That I’ve-so-got-your-number tone and I heard it more frequently all the time. “Less talking, more eating,” I sniped. After a few more bites myself, I added with a mumble, “After all, I’m the one who got you into this pathetic shape.”

Sheppard slammed his fork down on the table. “You had to go there, didn’t you, McKay? You just had to go there.”

“And why not, Major? Is what Rodney does best.” Radek sat beside me with his tray. “Making all things about him. A talent unparalleled among lesser men such as us.” My glare hit him precisely simultaneous with Sheppard’s and he shook his head, muttered about ill-tempered food-hoarders, and took his tray over to Beckett’s table.

Usually Radek was right…horrifyingly, exactingly correct, but this time he was completely off. I truly was the reason the Major needed IV milkshakes. I’d died on a mission, and he’d almost died moving life, the universe, and everything…to quote a wise man…to make sure that I didn’t stay dead. Now, I didn’t remember dying, what with the time travel aspect. And I was quite sure it wasn’t my fault…I mean, when is it ever…but the bottom line was that I did remember what John had looked like when he’d run into my lab to see if I were alive or not. He’d been covered in blood, dropped to the floor like a stone, and had nearly bled out completely by the time they got him to the infirmary. My favorite labcoat, embroidered with 00Geek, had been stained beyond repair. There was so much blood that it was more brown than white now; there was no way to get it clean. I’d washed and washed and finally given up. Despite that I couldn’t toss it. I mean…it was John’s blood. Throw it away like garbage?

I just couldn’t.

“This is not your fault, Rodney, understand? I’m the team leader. If I lose a member of my team, it’s my fault. Mine. Nobody else’s.” He pushed the half-full plate away. “Which brings us to the mission tomorrow.”

I pushed the plate back. “The mission I’ll be on, you mean? Oh yes, do tell…what about that mission, Major Sheppard?”

It wasn’t often John lost his temper, and I could count on one hand the times he’d lost it with me. Although really, why should he? I’m not particularly demanding…I consider myself a fairly easy going person and the very epitome of reason. This time, however, he seemed to lose sight of those well-known facts. “Driving me to justifiable homicide isn’t going to help your mission cause any, Dr. McKay,” he growled. His jaw was set, hazel eyes narrowed…I would say his hair even bristled, but I refused to let a statement that redundant pass my lips. The growl was well done, too. Throaty, deep, and ruthlessly predatory as any wolf. You could actually feel the air thicken at the table to something cold and brittle. You could sense how one wrong move…no matter how slight…would cause an eruption of violence, swift and sure.

Yawn.

“You’ve already tried to ground me once before, Major. It didn’t happen then; it’s not going to happen now. Get over it.” I pulled the lid off my pudding cup and inhaled the chocolately aroma…finer than any wine. “I’m a genius, you can’t do without me, yadda yadda. I think you’d have this memorized by now.”

And just like that, the bubble popped. The air was just air again and Sheppard’s shoulders slumped the tiniest fraction. “I know I can’t do without you,” he muttered, so low that I barely caught it. “That’s the goddamn problem.”

Oh. Oh. That’s what this was. I thought it had been about me screwing up and dying…still not my fault by the way. I thought this had been about him not trusting me not to do it again. Damn it, for a genius sometimes I could be so damn slow on the uptake. John trusted me fine. It was himself he had doubts about. Tomorrow he’d be jumping back on the horse, but it wasn’t just one thing he had to face. It was two. He’d lost a team member under his command. Okay, that’s bad. And he’d lost a friend. That was worse. For John it might even be the ultimate in worse. After what had happened to him…after all the friends he’d lost in ways completely horrible…. I dropped my pudding cup, appetite suddenly gone. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t done a little hacking and accessed his personal file. Not because of the privacy thing…he’d needed help three weeks ago and if I had to invade then invade I would. No, the reason I had regrets now is it made it harder for me to do my job.

John might play obsessive-compulsive shepherd to his geeks, and we were his…no doubt about it, but I had my duty too. I watched his back every bit as thoroughly as he watched mine. He was a good soldier, but he was a little too much into the self-sacrificing thing. He thought he was expendable. Can you believe it? The Maserati of ATA genes, the only real pilot we had, smart enough to actually work in the lab if he wanted, and a leader I actually occasionally bothered to listen to, and he thought everyone else’s life more important than his. God knew we’d seen ample evidence of that idiocy during the Wraith attack. It was enough to make me want to take the next jar of hair gel I manufactured for him and crack it over his pointy head. I watched his back because he refused to watch it himself. And if I couldn’t be there, then I couldn’t precisely do that, now could I?

But…it was his first mission since I’d died. That would be hard enough. Having me along to remind him every second of what had happened three weeks ago, that would make it a hundred times more difficult. And, honestly, things had been difficult enough already for him since that had happened. Surely, I could grit my teeth and trust him like he trusted me…at least for one mission.

But why did I have to always be the reasonable one?

I scowled at him fiercely. “One. Okay? You get one. That’s it. Don’t ask for any more because it’s not going to happen.” If that son of a bitch didn’t come back without a single scratch, the next batch of gel would take off every hair on his stubborn head. “And I pick the scientist who goes with you. Are we clear?” His mouth opened, but I doubted he had anything to say that I particularly wanted to hear right then and I cut him off. “And you eat your goddamn lunch. Every single bite. Now.”

He grinned. It was a bare lifting of the upper lip to flash teeth, but it was a grin and it was genuine. It almost made my incredibly noble sacrifice worthwhile. “Did I say three sizes?” he said lightly. “I meant four. Maybe even five. All you need now is that little dog with the antlers.”

“Shut up and drink your damn shake,” I snapped.

One mission. It was one mission. Surely we could get through just one.

“Radek,” I insisted, “are you even listening to me? That glazed look of insipid boredom, believe it or not, is not inspiring me with reams of confidence.”

“Yes, yes, Rodney.” He rolled his eyes and fumbled with the fasteners on his flak vest. “Watch Major Sheppard’s back. Make sure Major Sheppard eats. To hold Major Sheppard’s hand when he crosses road. You’re worse than Jewish mother.”

“I’m worse?” I slapped his butter fingers aside and did the snaps with practiced ease. “You can’t even dress yourself, you’re so pathetic. This can save your life, all right? Christ. And what do you know about Jewish mothers?”

“I had one.” He pushed up his glasses. “And she was less worrywart than you, but still good mother. Not all of us manufactured in lab like you, half Energizer rabbit, half demonic Chatty Cathy toy.” Straightening the jacket, he studied the finished result. “Is far from fashionable, yes? I feel bulky. Do I look bulky to you, Rodney?” He sucked in his gut and looked up at the control room balcony furtively. “Is Dr. Weir watching?”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? You’re trying to burst a blood vessel in my brilliant brain so you can arise to my throne. Well, it won’t work.” I pointed to the gun on his hip and snapped my fingers. “Do you remember how to use that from Geek Bootcamp? Or should I run to one of the Athosian children and get you a slingshot?”

“I remember enough to be sorely tempted.” He flapped an impatient hand at me. “Go. Stand up with Dr. Weir. Look down her shirt at Promised Land for me.” He gave me a push when I didn’t move. “I have your point. I am to take care of Major Sheppard. I can do this. Compared to working alongside you, not so difficult. Compared to working alongside you, taking on Wraith nation singlehanded not so difficult. All will be well.”

I hesitated, stalling. “You’re positive? Because I can still….”

“Rodney.”

“Fine. Fine.” I folded my arms and started to walk away, then paused. “Take care of yourself too, Radek. All right? The last thing I need is my entire staff going into DTs because your alcoholic ass isn’t around to maintain your stills. Productivity would plummet.”

He snorted. “You’re like little girl with bleeding heart. Go.”

I went. I didn’t join Elizabeth on high; Radek could do his own poaching in that direction. Instead I stood by Peter Grodin’s replacement and watched with a critical eye as he dialed up the gate address. I hadn’t learned what his name was yet, and quite frankly, had no real plans on seeking out the knowledge or committing it to memory. He was just some drone…some guy who sat in a chair that didn’t belong to him. Who did a job that Grodin had probably done much better. Just some guy who made me see an exploding space-station every time I looked at him. “You might want to speed it up,” I suggested snidely. “Before the team falls asleep waiting for their wormhole. Or maybe you actually thought the worm in wormhole had something to do with the common Annelida and you’re attempting to imitate its speed.” His fingers twitched nervously on the keyboard, and I blew out an impatient breath and began to elbow him aside. “Here, for God’s sake. Let me.”

“McKay, hey, you came to see me off. What a pal.” An arm slung itself around my shoulders and hustled me off before I could protest. Several feet away, Sheppard stopped and leaned in close for my ears only. “Jesus, Rodney. Beckett’s going to be pissed if he has to send a box of adult diapers to the control room because of you.”

I stiffened under his arm. “He’s a moron,” I hissed. “How did he get assigned to Atlantis anyway? He’s slow, stupid, he sweats nonstop, he’s….”

“He’s not Peter.” His hand squeezed my shoulder firmly. “I know. He’s not and he never will be and damn if it doesn’t suck out loud.”

Swallowing, I felt the indignation run out of me and I ran a hand over my face in a quick scrubbing motion. “Yeah. He’s not and it does.”

“On the other hand, he hasn’t turned on the artificial gravity and dropped you on your smug face yet either,” he grinned. “So maybe you should give him a chance.” Slapping me on my back hard enough to stagger me, he added, “Be the bigger man, McKay, not just the bigger swelled head.”

“Ha ha,” I said sourly. “It is to laugh.” I looked him over carefully. He looked…he looked the same as he always looked. Amused, cocky, swimming in breezy charm, and if you didn’t know better…. But I did know better. There was the slightest tension beside his mouth and a shadow behind the cheerful glitter of his gaze. And he didn’t look any less thin than he had yesterday. What a waste of a good milkshake. I frowned and starting patting my pockets. “Radek’s going to look after you since the Amazing McKay can’t. He won’t be quite the festive and entertaining companion I am, but try not to hold it against him. Not everyone has my wit, wisdom, and charisma.” I came up with half of a Payday bar and shoved it into his hand.

He looked down at the tattered wrapper and the corner of his mouth quirked. “Thanks, Rodney,” he said gravely and carefully tucked the candy bar away. “And I’ll take good care of your geek. I promise.”

“Yes, well, take care of a certain goon,” I suggested with sharp resignation, “if you can possibly spare the time.”

The strain lightened a little in his eyes. “I’ll give it my best shot, Supergeek. I’m not sure I could handle the decibel level of bitching I’d come back to if I didn’t.” He swatted the back of my head and was gone. Walking down to stand with Ford, Bates, a few nameless grunts and Zelenka, he whirled a finger in the air. “Let’s go. The Mighty McKay has given us our marching orders.” He tossed me a sloppy salute and a wink and then disappeared through the event horizon. Radek waved, puffed out his chest in case a certain someone was watching, and followed. The others trooped behind them. Thirty seconds later the wormhole closed, and I had an afternoon free for nothing but uninterrupted brilliance. It wasn’t something I had a chance at often…Sheppard was constantly showing up to annoy me…Radek always questioning every theory that fell out of my mouth…I’d welcome the unaccustomed silence. I’m sure it would be astounding what I could accomplish left to my own gifted devices for a few hours.

Thirty minutes later I was still in the control room. I mean, seriously, had no one done any sort of diagnostic check or maintenance on the place since we'd arrived? It was disgraceful, and if Peter had been there I would’ve told him so to his face. And he would’ve told me to mind my own business. Since he wasn’t there, I told his replacement, who, like the coward he was, promptly fled to Elizabeth’s office.

Finishing the third diagnostic, I decided to crawl under the console and check out the internal components. The moment I lay on my back and got nicely situated a voice said smoothly, “Rodney, isn’t there someplace you have to be? Someplace where you can terrify your own people? They do get paid that extra salary for a reason.”

“Diplomats shouldn’t spread vicious rumors, Elizabeth. It’s uncouth.” I wriggled my penlight out of my pocket, switched it on, and held it in my mouth while I tried to open the panel. “And, quite frankly,” I mumbled around it, “it’s not very diplomatic.” Besides if I wanted to be here, I could be here. There was science here…I was Head of Science. Even a diplomat could handle math that simple.

I heard the long-suffering sigh I fully expected. Elizabeth did that quite a lot. I refused to believe I was the cause of it. She negotiated peace treaties in the Middle East, but I strained her patience? I found that well nigh inconceivable. Perhaps all this stress in the Pegasus Galaxy had given her a shove into early menopause. Yes, that was far more fathomable. Perhaps I should mention it to Carson; that would be the concerned and compassionate thing to do, right? A healthy dose of hormones and….

“Rodney, this really isn’t the….”

Whatever really wasn’t went unsaid as the computer announced an incoming wormhole. I scrambled out and up instantly. “They’re early.” I checked my watch. “Two and a half hours early.” Okay, okay…this didn’t have to be a bad thing. They checked out the place…no Ancient energy readings…no discernable food sources. They could do that all in thirty minutes, right? Of course they could…if the Major was secretly Speedy Gonzales and Zelenka was the Flash’s Czech cousin. Damn it.

Seconds later five soldiers came running through. They looked tense and ready with guns held high. The reason for that was apparent as a volley of arrows came through with them. One speared a console with a shower of sparks. Another speared one of the soldiers. It punched through his shoulder like it was wet cardboard. The man went down in a spray of blood as the other personnel dived for cover. Then Bates and Ford came through, hitting the floor and rolling to safety.

Bates…Ford…but no Sheppard. No Radek. I took a step forward. And with that one step things became worse. An enormous finger of purple lightning exited the wormhole and slithered its way around the gate. Metal began to scream, light and smoke flared and billowed, and it looked as if we were about two minutes from an explosion that would sink Atlantis like a toy ship. But I’d learned something recently…two minutes was two minutes. You gave your people every second of it.

Grodin’s replacement apparently thought differently. I was running towards the gate when out of the corner of my eye I saw him lunge towards his gate computer. No. The son of a bitch wouldn’t…he wouldn’t. I whirled and yelled, “No! Don’t!”

Too late. Too damn late.

His hand hit the cut off control and the gate powered down. The lightning howled, sputtered, and disappeared in a haze of burning stench. Then the gate fell. The damn thing was imbedded in the floor…but it fell anyway, ripping up a huge stretch of the platform as it did. Ford and the others dodged frantically and barely made it out of the way, dragging their comrade. The sound of the impact was huge. It shook the room like an earthquake. People were knocked from their feet, equipment tumbled.

Like an earthquake.

I didn’t remember making my way over to him, but I could still feel the aftershock tremors inside me when I grabbed the son of a bitch by his collar and shook him until his teeth rattled. “Do you know what you just did? Do you?” I shook him harder. “You just killed Major Sheppard and Dr. Zelenka. You personally just killed them. Did anyone tell you to turn the gate off, you stupid bastard? Did they?”

A hand was on my shoulder and a darker one prying my fingers from the moron’s shirt. “Hey, Rodney, it’s okay,” Ford said reassuringly at my ear. “The Major and Zelenka are still on the other side. They were right behind us. We can still get to them, right? We can fix the gate…and the Major can handle a few natives with bows and arrows.”

“Yes, the same way you seemed to be handling them when you came running for your life through the gate?” I let go of that worthless bastard, never wishing more that Grodin were still here. Then I abruptly sat on the step beneath me, my legs giving away…giving up the ghost. Resting my elbows on my knees, I gazed dully at the remains of the gate. God…right behind them Ford had said. “Oh, and let’s not overlook the fact that John and Radek might’ve already been in transit.” Gone forever if that were the case. Just…gone. A malfunctioning gate might hold a pattern for a certain amount of time, I’d learned that the hard way, but this wasn’t a malfunction. This was the death of one maybe two gates. If there were patterns there, they were no more…mist dissipating under a merciless sun.

Oh, Jesus….

Elizabeth was ushering her man into a chair. His legs didn’t seem any more stable than mine and it looked like he might be crying. Good. It was nice to know I wasn’t going to be the only one. Bates filled her place at my shoulder. “Can’t we just take a jumper, find the nearest gate, hop a few jumps until we hit a planet close enough to fly to M7Y-339? I mean it might take a while to get to the closest safe gate…a few weeks, but….”

“Yes, the good Sergeant Bates, you were late to the briefing, weren’t you?” I cut him off and rubbed suddenly tired eyes. “There are no nearby planets…a fact that was firmly established for those of us who actually bothered to show up on time. The very closest gated planet to M7Y-339 is a year by jumper.”

“Couldn’t John and Radek travel through their gate, make their way to one of our allies?” Elizabeth returned to our side.

Our allies…because we had so many. “No,” I said flatly. “They can’t. The malfunction came from their gate. Their gate destroyed our gate and no doubt itself. Not only am I going to have to fix our gate, but Radek will have to fix his as well. Otherwise they’re stuck there…assuming they haven’t already been demolecularized or turned into pincushions. And I’m quite sure no one wants to hear the statistical odds on that, do they?” I wished I didn’t have to hear them bouncing around the inside of my skull, but I wasn’t that lucky. Beckett and his medical team chose that moment to show up and cluster around the fallen soldier. As I watched, Carson barked out some orders and supervised as they lifted him to the gurney. For a quick second he scanned the room for other wounded. He noticed the absences immediately and his eyes locked on mine with dark blue questions.

I looked away. He didn’t want to hear the answers and I didn’t want to give them.

“Can you fix it?” Ford asked in a hushed tone as he looked at the fallen gate. “Really?”

“I don’t know.”

“Rodney,” Elizabeth urged. “I need to know if….”

“I don’t know,” I snapped, wedging fingers in my hair. “I just don’t know.” I stood and faced Bates and Ford, slamming a finger into the former’s bull-like chest. “But in case I can’t, why don’t you make yourselves useful and go find us one we can steal. Gee, let me think…don’t the Genii have one? ”

“Mmmm. Sto…where….”

I watched as Zelenka’s hands fluttered on the ground like dying birds. I patted him reassuringly on his chest. “Come on, Dr. Z. Wakey, wakey.”

His eyes slitted and he blinked in confusion. “Annoying that. Wakey, wakey. Do be quiet.”

Someone wasn’t a morning person. Or the type of person who popped up cheerfully after passing out at a damn inopportune time. Take your pick. I moved my hand from his chest to his cheek and gave him a light slap. “Seriously, Radek, get your ass up. We’re in trouble here…and it’s so much more fun when shared.”

Cursing under his breath, he shifted, blinked again, and managed to sit up. Adjusting crooked glasses, he looked around at the surrounding trees in confusion with his brows furrowed. “Major Sheppard, where are we? What happened?”

“What happened? Now there’s a good question.” I stopped to wash down two Tylenol with a swallow of water from my canteen. “We were ambushed. The gate blew up. I was shot, and you passed out like a Candy Striper on her first day at work.” I considered and nodded in satisfaction. “Yeah, I’d say that about sums it up.”

“No.” He shook his head frantically then dropped it into his hands and rocked as the memories obviously came flooding back. “No, no. It cannot be. Rodney will never let me live down. He will hound me until day I die.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Dr. Z,” I said absently, scanning the trees. “The way things are going, that day might not be too far off.” I’d dragged his unconscious body into the woods almost twenty minutes ago and I hadn’t seen Snake-man one yet, but I wasn’t exactly hopeful. Zelenka had been sincere when he’d said there were no humans here…not that we knew of. The native people were some sort of quasi lizard/snake humanoid. Too many appendages for a snake, two arms…two legs, but too serpentine for a lizard. Whatever they were, they were fast as greased lightning and ill-tempered as McKay on lemon meringue pie night in the cafeteria. So far I’d only seen the Snakes use bows and arrows, but as good as they were with those, they didn’t need guns.

Straightening, Zelenka asked anxiously, “How is leg? There was much….” He swallowed and began to turn green.

“Oh, no, hang on. Not again.” I poured a little water hurriedly into my hand and flicked it in his face before sealing up the canteen and retrieving my gun to check the trees again. “The leg isn’t bad.” And as Zelenka was fond of saying himself, bad was such a relative term. But the bleeding had stopped not too long after I’d yanked the arrow out…the less said about that process the better. Barring poison or massive infection, I’d survive. “It’s bandaged and everything. No scary blood, I promise.”

His eyes flicked down, registered the bandage, and exhaled hugely. “Ah. Good. Is good.” He wiped the water from his face. “The gate did not blow then, I’m guessing, or we would be happy dancing molecules.”

“No boom,” I agreed. “Hey, Radek, duck down a little, would you?”

“What?” He hunched slightly and flapped a hand. “Is there bug in my hair?”

I extended my arm and fired directly over his dandelion-fluff head. Snaky Joe fell from a tree twenty-five feet back and hit the ground with a meaty thud. “No, no bug. You’re good.”

He looked over his shoulder, then back at me and said brightly, “So, to fix gate now? To go home? To never step foot on another wretched mission for the rest of life? Yes? What is your plan?”

Poor Dr. Z. He’d definitely got more than he’d bargained for when he’d promised to babysit me and I knew that was precisely how McKay would’ve put it to him. Go babysit our clueless Major since he won’t let me. Don’t let him touch anything dangerous and make sure he wears his mittens if it’s cold. And to think Rodney gave me shit over my overprotective geek streak…which in reality wasn’t overprotective at all. It was exactly the right amount of protective, considering the amount of trouble the geeks managed to get themselves into. “I sure hope he’s paying you more than seven fifty an hour plus all the popcorn you can eat,” I grunted as I began to lever myself to my feet.

“Wait…what are you doing? Let me.” He jumped up, leaves and twigs raining from his uniform, and helped me up with all the care you’d show a brittle-boned grandma. Before I could growl at him he searched under his vest with one hand while keeping the other on my arm. Producing a plastic wrapped sandwich, far the worse for the wear, he handed it to me. “Here. Eat. Is good for you.”

I looked at the sadly squished bread and mustard slathered mystery meat, gave a resigned sigh, unwrapped it one handed and took a bite. “You people are giving me a damn complex,” I muttered around the mouthful. “Now let’s get moving. I’ll tell you the plan as we go.” Maybe the walking would distract from the plan’s flaws…and it had plenty. But we weren’t exactly rolling in options here. Without a gate, no one was coming to our rescue. We were too far out. Dr. Z said there was a remote possibility our gate had taken out the one at Atlantis as well. That didn’t bug me too much. If it had, Rodney would fix it. That I could rely on as surely as the sun rising, rain falling, and Lieutenant Barclay leaving the bathroom uninhabitable for humankind. If it were broken, McKay would fix it. End of story.

Two hours later, Dr. Z was working on the DHD behind a barrier crafted from thick branches and small trees lashed together with rope and vine. It wouldn’t have stopped a gun, but it would stop an arrow easily enough. As he worked, I ghosted the outskirts of the clearing, hidden in the trees…a phantom with a mad-on for snakes and knock you over mustard breath. Here was hoping all the Snaky Joes were like their cold-blooded cousins and relied on heat sensitivity as opposed to smell.

But here was the thing. I didn’t much like snakes…at all. You’d think I’d have a thing about bugs, and, okay, if it’s the size of a small dog and wants to give me a life-sucking hickey, then yeah…I have a thing about those particular bugs. But if you wanted to talk phobias not induced by the Pegasus galaxy…let’s talk snakes. There had been an incident when I was thirteen…that’s what the military camp lawyers called it…an ‘incident’….

Better yet…let’s not talk about it. Let’s just go kill some snakes.

“Great,” I grimaced, pushed down the stab of unproductive worry, and wiped the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. “John hates snakes.”

Ford paused in his summary of what had happened on M7Y-who-the-hell-cared-what-it-was-called-anymore and repeated, “The Major doesn’t like snakes?”

“Yes, that’s what I said. The Major doesn’t care for snakes…much in the way I wouldn’t care, say, to have a red hot poker rammed up delicate portions of my anatomy.” I narrowed my eyes as I peered over Barclay’s hulking shoulder. “Does that cable look tight to you, Lieutenant? Should I spell tight? Or did you mishear and assume I was referring to what you wear under your tutu during your more private moments?”

“Oh, man,” Ford groaned. Grabbing my arm, he dragged me back from the fallen gate. “Er…say…how do you know the Major doesn’t like snakes? I’ve never heard him mention it when we’re on missions.”

I wriggled my arm free and started back towards Barclay. “Yes, well, once you’re weaned off that bottle and old enough to drink perhaps you’ll find out all sorts of interesting things about the Major. Barclay! Barclay! What in God’s name is going on in that tiny Neanderthal brain of yours? Do you even know the tensile strength of that cable or did you call the psychic hotline for the information? What could you possibly be….”

This time there were two sets of hands pulling me back. Ford’s and Beckett’s. Beckett might carry an extra haggis or two around his middle, but the man was strong as an ox when he wanted to be. He held onto me while Ford gave me an awkwardly reassuring pat to the shoulder. He seemed almost surprised that he wasn’t instantly electrocuted when he did so. “Don’t worry, Dr. McKay. We’ll get the gate back up, I swear. Cross it off your list.”

Just cross it off the list. Yes, fine, why not? That only left a few hundred other impossible things left on it to do. I’d be done by supper. Damn. I rubbed the heel of my hand over tired eyes. It was barely early afternoon and I was already exhausted. Nothing will do that for you quite like crushing stress, and, oh…not to forget, the constant worry that your two friends are already dead and it’s all pointless anyway. So damn pointless…. “What do you want, Carson?” I swallowed against rising bile to mutter as his hand tightened on my arm. “Are you here to tell me I have cancer and two weeks to live? Because, while it certainly wouldn’t surprise me right now, it’s maybe not the best time.”

“You’re too contrary and mean to die, Rodney. You’ll outlive us all. Major Sheppard might hae the ATA gene, but you’ve the right bastard gene. It makes for longevity, trust me.” He squeezed my arm again then let his hand fall. “Actually, I’m here to let you yell at me. We drew straws…I lost.”

Drawing in a deep breath, I bent down and began ripping up the maintenance panels in the floor. Time to face the real damage. “To let me yell at you? What craziness are you spouting now? Have you finally dipped into your own drug stock? Has all that lanolin from your youth rotted your brain?” I flopped onto my stomach and stuck my head down into the depths of the floor. “Considering your medical skills or lack thereof, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Using the penlight, I flashed it around. “Oh no.” It came out of my mouth so quietly that I barely heard it myself.

How Carson managed to hear it too I didn’t know, but he did. “Bad, is it?” he asked softly.

I closed my eyes for one selfish moment of oblivion. Just one. Then I sat back up and switched the light off. “Let me yell at you? That’s good. That might actually help me some and save that miserable wretch that caused this mess an extra year of counseling.” I didn’t look around. Grodin’s replacement had either made himself markedly absent or Elizabeth had temporarily relieved him of duty…for his own safety. “Plus you can fly the other jumper,” I finished absently.

“Um…Rodney?” He paled slightly at the reference to flying. Beckett, the man who could actually face me down, feared flying. It was unbelievable…flying was more intimidating than me? I didn’t think so. “Fly the jumper? Fly the jumper where?”

“In here.” I looked around the room. With the fallen gate there really wasn’t the room…ah, that would work. “Do you want top bunk or bottom bunk?”

“Top or…what in the world are you talking about?” he demanded with a sputter.

I stood, took his arm, and started out of the control room. “I’m going to use the jumpers to jumpstart the gate…theoretically. Since there’s only room for one in here, we’re going to have to stack them. Now do you want to fly the one that goes on the bottom or the one that piggybacks?”

“Sweet Mother of God, you’ve gone mad,” he breathed, horrified.

“Unfortunately, I don’t get to be that lucky.” I kept walking and ignored his efforts to dig his heels in. “Fine, you big baby. You can land the one on the bottom. I’ll give you a whole minute to dash out before I set down on top in case you’re afraid you’ll be squashed like a heather-munching Highlander bug.”

“Well forgive me if being squashed did cross my mind,” came the cross reply. “But if it’ll help the Major and Zelenka, I’ll gird my loins.”

“Firmly under the heading of information I never needed to know, Carson. Thanks so very much for scarring me with mental visions of you and your loins.”

“It’s an expression, you daft bastard,” Beckett sighed, moving at a fast trot at my side.

“That doesn’t make it any less traumatizing,” I countered as my mind turned, chasing its own tail trying to figure out this Chernobyl class fuck up. All right, we had the power boost we needed…maybe. I was thinking that might be enough, at least I had until I’d looked at the mess under the floor. I was going to have to rebuild the dialing system from scratch, and while there probably were all the necessary parts for that somewhere on Atlantis, it could take us months or longer to find them all. Not an option. Not while John and Radek were living in a snake pit. Hopefully living….

You and your goddamn ‘just one mission’, Sheppard.

I stopped. Okay, all right. There had to be an answer. If I stopped thinking for one moment how badly I wanted to kick the scrawny butt of one Air Force Major up one side and down the other, I might be able to think of it. What if…I slapped my forehead. “Of course. If you’re going to steal one…just steal the other instead. Giving Carson a push, I ordered, “Fly the first jumper in. I’ll be a few minutes behind.” I turned and ran back in the other direction.

“What? Rodney? Where the hell are you going, lad?”

I waved a hand and kept going. “Things to do. Lies to tell. Busy, busy, busy. Give me five minutes.”

It was actually more like fifteen minutes when I set the second jumper on top of the first in control. And it was a good forty-five minutes after that before Elizabeth caught on. We’d gotten the gate back up…it was singed but still in one piece. Takes a licking and keeps on ticking…naquadah gives Timex a run for its money every time. The base wasn’t as stable as I’d hoped…some lesser metal had been used to join it to the floor and that alloy had melted like butter in a skillet. I glared at the ugly conglomeration of hoists and joists we were using to keep the gate up. “Subcontractors,” I muttered under my breath. “Had to be.”

“Rodney,” the even voice hovered at my shoulder, “might I have a word with you?”

I twirled my hand impatiently. “Word away. I only have two-hundred and twenty things on my mind at this particular second. Jump on the pile.” There was that stupid ape Barclay again…what the hell was he doing now? Did the man even have opposable thumbs? I really did need to check first opportunity. I could put a bow on him and give him to Pyonng for Christmas…the missing link, enjoy. The xenobiologist would owe me and owe me big.

“It’s about Sergeant Bates. It seems he, along with Lieutenant Ford and Teyla, are nowhere to be found.”

“Oh, that.” I turned to look at her. I didn’t bother with an innocent smile. As I’ve been informed frequently by a certain Chia-headed smart-ass, apparently I don’t pull it off. ‘When you smile like that, you look like a drunken Phil Collins bobble doll,’ were the exact words. ‘It’s spooky. Cut it out.’

“Yes, that, Rodney,” she said with, I have to give it to her, remarkable restraint. “Would you happen to know where they are?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do,” I said helpfully…because I was, if nothing, a helpful person—when given the opportunity. Or when I made the opportunity myself. “I sent them to steal the DHD from that spiffy new Genii outpost.” The Genii, in their infinite love of their fellow creature and continual quest for peace had discovered a long abandoned…even in Ancient terms…gate on a planet on the outer edge of our solar system. They’d put up a military base there so quickly we didn’t even notice it until it was nineteen sixties Cuba all over again…or so said Sheppard. My observation was, as always, more direct and helpful. The warheads will be ready in two weeks. At Elizabeth’s throat clearing, I checked my watch and added, “They should be back in oh twenty hours now. It a simple operation really. It turns out the jumper has a tractor beam…which makes sense if we’d ever thought to actually ask it if it did. I think we were too caught up in the embarrassing connotations of such a Star Trek device. But there you go. If you don’t….”

“Dr. McKay.” Uh oh. No more Rodney. “Did it not cross your mind, not even once, that I told you we simply cannot steal the Genii’s gate, even one they appropriated?” She crossed her arms and fixed me with dark expectant eyes. “That we could ask, yes. That we could negotiate…but we can not steal the gate. We’re not thieves.”

“They’re not stealing the gate,” I pointed out. “Only the DHD. If your heart truly bleeds that much for those sons of bitches after what they did to us, then fine. Give it back when we’re done. Then we’re not thieves, only borrowers. They’ll still be squatters, torture-mongers, and kidnappers, but God forbid we sink to their level. Our hands will be clean and lily-white.”

She massaged her forehead lightly. “Let’s try this from another angle. How did you get the three of them to borrow the DHD without my orders?”

“Oh, I gave it to them. They’re good soldiers. Obedient soldiers, not like Major Sheppard. They wouldn’t have gone without them.” That was such an obvious and logical supposition…how had she missed it?

Her lips tightened. “You put me in a very untenable position, Rodney. What if I call them back? Tell me you have a back up plan if I make that happen.”

“A back up plan?” I folded my arms, hunched my shoulders and twisted my neck with a distinct cracking sound. “Well, I’d have to say my back up plan would be to scrounge Atlantis for parts for the next six months and hope that meanwhile John and Radek have set up house with some nice lady snakes who, oh, don’t eat them? And then, half a year from now, maybe our gate works and maybe their gate works and we can bring their bodies home for a nice heroes’ burial. Yes, I’d say that’s my back up plan.” I thrust my jaw out. “But that doesn’t really matter, because their jumper’s communication system has…malfunctioned, let’s say…about a half hour out. You can’t contact them until they’re back and hopefully by then you’ll see that Sheppard and Zelenka’s lives are worth more than the Genii’s hurt feelings.”

I respected Elizabeth, I did…well, as much as I could respect anyone with a doctorate in the soft sciences. And she was a good leader and an even better diplomat, but sometimes you couldn’t be both. Sometimes you had to pick your role. This was one of those times.

“You’ve learned some very bad habits from Major Sheppard, haven’t you?”

I gazed back steadily. “I’ve learned a lot from the Major, but none of it has been bad.”

She winced, then sighed, “All right. We do what we can to get our people back. I’ll do damage control afterwards.” Her gaze sharpened. “And if I were you, Dr. McKay, I would be working on my own damage control. I won’t let the Major operate this way, and I won’t let you either.”

I blew out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d even been holding. “Fair enough, Elizabeth. Thank you.” Turning back towards the gate, I stared at it unblinkingly. If I were having this much trouble fixing the damn thing on this side, what would it be like for Radek?

If he were alive.

If either of them were.

I went back to savagely ripping up the floor. Until the DHD arrived, it was the only thing I could do. The only damn useless thing I could do.

tbc tomorrow