Title: Second Verse, Same As The First
Author: medie
Rating: pg13 at present
Word count: 3044 thus far
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, I just played with the words.
Note: written for kashmir1 for oxoniensis's Free For All who asked for a girl!Rodney/John
summary: Meredith McKay has never been particularly good with people, neither has John Sheppard, this could end in tears.
"Your middle name is Rodney?"
Meredith scrunches her nose, looks up from her calculations, and watches the slow grin spread across Major Sheppard's face. "Yes, as a matter of fact, Rodney is my middle name."
He nods. She goes back to her calculations, hoping against all rational thought that he'll take the hint and leave. He doesn't, of course. She knows better than that. A number of things have become abundantly clear over the months they've been in Atlantis. Some she can circumvent, some she can ignore, but there are a stubborn few which she can only live with. John Sheppard's attention span is chief atop that list.
He's bored. They've had no reports from the Wraith in a few days. Power is good. Elizabeth's begun working out deals with Teyla's people and is having the time of her life. It all conspires to mean, for the most part, the team has been on downtime.
Meredith's been enjoying it. No danger to life and limb (always a plus as she's so fond of hers) and she gets to catch up on some much needed research. She's already tried suggesting that the Major do the same. Of course, in his case, she meant work, but, well – that's proving difficult.
Along with a disconcertingly short attention span, Major John Sheppard is deathly allergic to paperwork. She thinks of his office, of its current state, and cringes. The man needs an assistant, or a keeper. His gravity defying hair aside (something she is absolutely convinced violates the laws of physics) she's not particularly interested in being either one.
And yet...
Meredith puts down her pen. "You've been reading my file." She sounds defensive, even to her own ears, and she is. John has the right to read the service fiiles of anyone on the mission, particularly her. He's the de facto military commander. She's on his team. He has the right to know everything about her history.
And isn't that the most horrifying thought of the day?
"Just the good parts," says John. He grabs a stool, sitting across the counter from her and rests his chin on his forearms. When he looks at her, there's something calculating in his gaze. It's like he's trying to decipher her component parts, sort the ins and the outs of her, and she hates it.
It makes her uncomfortable and it takes effort not to squirm or look away.
Lifting her chin, Meredith stares back, hoping for a placid expression. She knows, however, it's more likely that she looks constipated. She's always been a terrible liar.
After a moment, he raises his eyebrows briefly and smiles. It's an 'aw, shucks, who me?' sort of expression. She wonders how many women have fallen for that look. Too many, she decides with an inward harumph. She's never understood women who fall for the sort of man sitting before her. She's never found anything attractive or desirable about the charming rogue. While the rest of her acquaintances – Meredith's never had much use for 'girlfriends' – were falling all over them, she's been quite happy to go on ignored.
Sitting here, she's quite sure it's the smartest thing she ever did. John Sheppard's living proof that her hypothesis was quite sound.
He tips his head, staring at her again and she realizes the moment is stretching out. "The good parts?" The question stammers its way out of her and Meredith instantly regrets it. She's never been particularly good at this and Sheppard? Sheppard is nothing but. All that practice after all.
Yes, it's a catty thought, but it's also true. Not to mention somewhat depressing. This isn't a level playing field, she's hopelessly out-gunned and she wants to run. Her legs tense, eager to take flight and rush from the room.
"Uh huh. Like the part where you've got a guy's name." There's laughter in his voice. She quells the urge to kick him beneath the table, reminding herself Elizabeth wouldn't like it. Even if he does deserve it. Which he does. A lot. "You've got to admit, McKay, it is pretty damn good."
Meredith pinches the bridge of her nose, reminding herself that this is a better assignment than Russia. Really. It is. Disastrous start aside, Atlantis is everything she might have hoped for and then some. It's just -- it isn't fair. This isn't. Atlantis is supposed to be her chance. She's never had the upper hand, really, not in anything but her field. Not even then if the SGC and Sam Carter is involved.
It's not fair, but she won't say that. Whatever else has happened, she still has her pride.
"I fail to see what the issue of my name has to do with anything. Particularly not anything regarding my capabilities and how they relate to this mission." Which, she was quite sure, far exceeded the Major's.
"Of course not," says Sheppard. "This may come as a surprise, Doctor, but not everything has to do with the job."
This time, she doesn't stop the snort. "And I know this may come as a surprise to you, Major, but some of us? We find actual enjoyment and satisfaction in our careers." While his file is, as of that moment, off limits - officially, at least, she can 'rectify' that later – to her, Meredith has done her homework.
Stargate Command is, if nothing else, shockingly efficient in its distribution of gossip. A skill that many transferred personnel have brought with them. She knows just enough about John Sheppard to be sure she isn't sure she wants to know the rest.
Tapping her stylus against the counter top, she scowls at him. "Work. Not the sealed records of our colleagues."
He smiles, it's lazy and a touch mocking. "Reviewing those records is work. I need to know about the people under my command."
It's patronizing as hell and sets her teeth on edge. The urge to kick him is bordering on the level of nearly irresistible. She hopes that Elizabeth can forgive her impending lack of judgment. Although, it's not as if Sheppard actually is her superior.
"Well, there's your problem," she bites out. "I'm not. If you hadn't noticed, Major, I have a rather large number of scientists under my command." As the senior scientist on this expedition, she actually does. Her people outnumber his considerably, even if half of them despise her, and that counts for something. Not much, considering the aforementioned hate, but something.
Meredith is fully aware of how they view her. She might not be particularly interested in their comments, but she's certainly heard them.
"As long as you're on my team," says Sheppard, "you're under my command." He looks oddly stubborn about it and she shouldn't be excited by that. She shouldn't. "We should probably work on making that clearer. I wouldn't want anything 'unfortunate' happening out there. Not like we can pick up a new you at Geeks 'R' Us."
It's a joke, but it's not meant to be funny. She's made him angry. The conversation is sliding out of her control, but Meredith doesn't care at the moment. She's done this before. She's had this conversation before and she's really fucking tired of it. Riding the bitter contrariness rises up and she blurts, "For as long as that lasts at any rate."
"I beg your pardon?" He's sitting up straight now, staring at her with an expression of disbelief. "You want off the team?" He seems truly perplexed, astonished really, and Meredith almost regrets her comment, actually starts to doubt the certainty of her belief. It never works. She always ends up shuffled off, out of the way, with her notes and her theories.
The eternal problem child.
She's tempted to admit it, to say so, but that temptation dies quickly. About as long as it takes for Sheppard to make the wrong connection and then she truly does. His face shuts down and Meredith's stomach sinks with it. Oh god. "You think Elizabeth is going to pull me."
"No," says Meredith, feeling bleak. "She wouldn't." She clutches her stylus tighter, desperate to try and regain the ground she's losing by the second without any idea of just how to do so. She should probably tell him the truth. It's what people would do in this situation, she's sure of it. She should say something emotionally revealing, tell him the truth about herself, fill in the bare bones of what her service record states. All the transfers, the complaints, not to mention the sudden transfer to the other side of the planet.
She's surprised, though, he hasn't figured that one out for himself. They're both children of the Cold War era. If she knows what kind of security risk it was to ship her to the Russians with everything she knows about the US military, then Major Sheppard certainly ought to.
Bitterness aside, she does want to tell him the truth. He's not a part of the melodrama that's become her life, he doesn't deserve that look in his eyes.
It isn't what she says. The best Meredith can come up with is, "You've proven yourself. The inexperience -- It doesn't matter."
"You seem to think it does," says Sheppard.
"I thought it might." Meredith shrugs. It's not precisely the truth. She had her doubts about John Sheppard from the moment Carson nearly blew the man to hell. Even more when she actually saw him (and that hair) and more still when Sumner died.
She still thinks she's justified about that. As capable as he's turning out to be, she's still surprised to discover there's a brain beneath that hair.
And how does it stand up like that? Super glue?
"I was -- " she clears her throat, closing her eyes to choke out, "I made a mistake and if you know anything about me, Major, you should know that is not an admission I make very often. Ever, really. Take it for what it's worth and leave it there."
She's not sure what's more surprising. The fact that she actually said it or the fact that he does.
When Meredith opens her eyes, Sheppard is gone.