THE HURT
"Rodney, do you mind?" Colonel John Sheppard asked lightly, trying to keep the worry from showing. The fact that this was the third time that his favorite scientist had almost tilted over and fallen hard to the ground was making that task somewhat Herculean.
"Huh?" Dr. Rodney McKay asked, confusion written all over his face. He looked around and saw the precarious position he was in, and the uncomfortable one he had forced his team leader into. "Oh, um, sorry. Tired."
"I know you are McKay, but you've got to stay with me here." Rodney's eyes were closed as he nodded his head in consent, though his head proceeded to plop none-too-lightly onto Colonel Sheppard's shoulder. A weary sigh from the physicist told John that Rodney might be planning to make himself comfortable there.
John shook his head and held on carefully to his friend's left hand while he gently caressed Rodney's sweaty though chilled neck.
The two members of Atlantis' premiere away team had been headed back to meet up with Teyla and Ronon at the Stargate. The Athosian woman had agreed to allow Ronon one more chance to accompany her on a diplomatic mission, though only after subjecting the former runner to a stern lesson in the meaning of the word 'diplomatic'.
While Teyla and Ronon had been making nice with the locals, John and Rodney were off looking at a set of ruins located not too far from the village. The two had been in a good mood, talking and laughing about Teyla's admonishments to their newest team member, and the beautiful, crystal clear day, the pleasant scenery all along their route and thankfully fully cleared footpath to the ruins had made for a nice morning for the two friends and teammates.
Up until this point it had been a perfect day.
Rodney spent a couple of hours reviewing the site and had determined that there was nothing of value for them there. So they found a comfortable spot, with a view, and enjoyed a quick snack of power bars and a fruit that the natives insisted was nothing like citrus. Rodney said it looked a whole lot like an apple as he drooled earlier at the basket full of fruit.
Sated and perfectly pleased by their stress-free day, Sheppard and McKay notified their teammates that they were on their way and began the leisurely walk to the gate.
The leisurely and pleasant part of their day ended abruptly when they both walked, in unison, across a trip wire. Rodney, ever more alert with each mission, sensed a trap and pushed John away toward the path, thus leaving himself alone in the line of fire. The fire, this time, was dart-like projectiles, heading directly for McKay's head and upper body. Rodney ducked and lifted his hand to cover his face. Most of the darts flew to where Sheppard would have been standing, but two managed to find a target.
John had spent the better part of the last half hour securing the area, calming Rodney, calling for back up, and removing the two darts from Rodney's hand. At least McKay's instincts kicking in had prevented a more severe injury.
"Rodney," John said into his friend's ear. No response from the physicist was worrisome, to say the least. "Hey, come on, I need to finish with your hand and take a look at that hard head of yours." There was blood on the left side of Rodney's face, stretching from his ear to about the middle of his forehead. John had yet to be able to determine if that was residual blood from the injuries to Rodney's hand, or if one of the darts had managed to penetrate there, too.
Rodney suddenly shivered violently.
"Damn it," John said as he eased McKay flat to the ground, carefully, as the hand was in bad shape and didn't need any additional knocking about or dirt added to the already unfortunate mess.
"Cold," Rodney declared, staring up at John.
"Nothing like stating the obvious, McKay," John said lightly. "Teyla," Sheppard started into his comm. "How long?"
"We are within fifteen minutes of your location, Colonel Sheppard," Teyla replied quickly.
"Colonel, how is Rodney?" Carson Beckett's worried voice asked.
"Shocky, I think, Carson. It's good to know you're right around the corner."
"Aye. How's…"
John Sheppard cut him off. "Just hurry," John said, his concern making his reply sound terser than he'd intended. "Sorry, Carson. I've got him on the ground; my pack is under his legs. I pulled the darts out of his hand and wrapped it, but I haven't had a chance to really clean it or take a look at it or his head…"
"His head?" Carson asked, a heightened sense of worry clear in his tone.
"Yeah, but it might just be blood from his hand. He's extremely tired, and I'm worried that it's not just symptoms from shock."
Carson looked between Ronon and Teyla as they made their way quickly up the path, unable to hide his worry about the situation.
"You think the darts may have been poisoned, John?" Carson surmised.
"Or that damn apple he ate really was citrus."
"Rodney ate untested fruit?" Carson yelled. "The daft man."
"Hey, I c'n hear you, Cars'n," Rodney said weakly.
"It's okay, Rodney," John said easily. Then into the comm, "Let's worry about that when you get here, Carson. What's done is done. What should I do until you get here?" John asked Atlantis' chief medical officer.
"You've got his legs up. Just keep him warm, and awake if you can. You've got epinephrine if you need it," though Dr. Carson Beckett had no way of knowing whether an unknown alien antigen could be effectively managed with a treatment developed for an Earth-bound one. "Keeping him warm is more important than cleaning the wound at this point. I can take care of that when I get there."
"Got it."
John took the blanket and laid it over Rodney, and then laid down next to his friend.
Rodney snorted and then said, "Don't get fresh."
John was more pleased by Rodney's reaction than he could ever say. He laughed right back and said, "You wish."
"Hmmm," Rodney replied. John thought that he was going to have to wake Rodney again when the scientist, trembling steadily now, belatedly added, "Mmm…mmm…maybe later."
John put his arm across Rodney's chest as he cuddled up alongside McKay, careful not to knock into the injured hand, but grasping Rodney's forearm gently so that McKay himself didn't jar it by mistake.
"Maybe," John added quietly. Rodney moved his cheek so that it now rested against John's head. Moments passed in silence. Rodney's own movements from the uncontrollable shivering had to be causing more pain in his hand.
"McKay?" John started.
"'m awake," Rodney's sleepy voice returned.
"Carson will be here soon." John assured his friend and, even more, himself.
"I heard. It's jjj…jjj…just sh…shock, you know."
"What?" John asked. Rodney's voice was quite low and his words a little slurred. He wasn't sure he understood correctly what Rodney had said.
"Shock. Nnn…not citrus. Not poison."
"And how do you know that, DOCTOR McKay?"
"You know, I AM a ddd…doct'r. Th't tone doesn't work with mmm…me, Sheppard," Rodney said, yawning long through the colonel's last name as his body continued to shiver.
"Yeah, I see that now," John admitted. He snuggled up closer to provide more warmth. "So how do you know?"
"I'd feel it."
"Really?" John asked, skepticism evident in the question.
"Mm-hmm. Definitely not citrus. Know how that fff…feels." Rodney shook uncontrollably, though this time it might have been from memories of his last episode of near anaphylactic shock.
"Okay, genius. And I say that with great affection, by the way," John said as he pulled himself more to eye-level with his charge. "What about the poison?" John figured that even if the talk was all talk, Carson wanted Rodney to stay awake. And he really liked hearing Rodney talk, anyway.
Rodney tried to wave his right hand, but John's body pressed against his own trapped it, so he just sighed and said, "It's not. I just know."
John raised his eyebrow, looking McKay in the eye. "Because you're all-knowing?"
Rodney rolled his eyes and huffed with irritation. "I'm sure it's just b'cause it happen'd so sudde…suddenl…sudden…" a frustrated sigh as he shivered throughout, "…fast, and things were goin' so well. Nnn…nnn…nice day. Easy day. Fun. Haven't had 'lot of days like th…th…that." Rodney shivered. Hard.
John pulled his body in closer to his friend.
"Yeah. It's pretty much sucked in the Pegasus galaxy for a long stretch now."
"Sucked. No pun intended, rrr…rrr…right?" Rodney grimaced slightly.
"Sorry."
"'s okay." A long silence developed, and then, "I can't feel my hand, John," Rodney said, his voice cracking on the colonel's name.
"That's shock, too, Rodney," though John did try to massage some feeling into Rodney's arm. "You're gonna be fine." Sheppard knew that McKay was scared; Atlantis' chief scientist rarely called him by his first name.
"I can't even talk without my hands. Hhh…hhh…how can I work…"
"Rodney," John interrupted. "It's just the shock." Rodney looked away.
"Hey, look at me!" John demanded. Rodney turned back, obeying the order. "You're in shock. But you're going to be fine." Rodney blinked several times, trying to keep the tears contained. "I promise you."
THE PAIN
"Hey there," John said as he sat next to Rodney's PT chair. Carson had been surprised at the damage those two simple darts had done. And Rodney was right about the citrus and the poison – or the lack thereof. Rodney had required surgery, but he was now into his third day of his second level of physical therapy to get his hand back into shape. Carson said that he would have full use of his hand, but that it would be slow going.
And for someone like Rodney McKay, slow going would be torture, for him and everyone around him.
John thought that his friend looked a little green. And sweaty. Rodney opened his eyes but didn't say anything to his team leader.
"Rough today, huh?" John asked. Rodney closed his eyes and turned away.
John looked at the physical therapist, silently asking to be left alone with McKay. The therapist nodded. "You know the drill," she said as John walked her to the door. "Make sure he rests here another fifteen minutes, keeping his hand in the chamber. Remember the brace when you leave." She smiled sympathetically. "He's doing great," she added as she left.
Of course he was. But being Rodney McKay, he was sure to disagree with that assessment. Progress was relative, especially to a genius physicist.
Rodney lay quietly as the Ancient chamber soothed his hand. The workouts left Rodney drained, but even the terrific progress that he had made these last few days had not brought him out of the funk he'd been mired in since the accident.
John pulled the chair up closer to his friend. He watched quietly for a moment, and then gently put his hand on Rodney's chest.
Rodney opened his eyes to find John looking at him. He couldn't quite place the emotion he saw. Was it regret? Sadness? Something else? Something stronger, deeper – an emotion he had never seen in John Sheppard before.
"Something wrong?" Rodney asked.
"You tell me," John answered, removing his hand. "How did it go today?"
Rodney heaved a heavy sigh. "Same."
"Tracey said you're doing great. Maybe she was talking about a different patient."
"Funny."
"I try. So, what do you want to do?" Whatever Rodney wanted, John would make sure it happened. There had to be something he could do to help Rodney through this.
"Do?"
"Yeah. You've been cooped up, either in here or the infirmary or your room, for weeks. Do you want to go somewhere? Do something?"
"You're trying too hard," Rodney said dejectedly. He looked down at his hand still residing in the Ancient's healing machine.
"I know. You have at least five more minutes in that thing, by the way."
"I know that, colonel!" Rodney replied sharply. He kept his head down, his face now flushed with embarrassment. He looked up at John. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't be good company no matter what we did."
"Yeah, but I would," John said knowingly, grinning that crooked grin that always, always worked.
Rodney snorted and then smiled, despite himself. "Yes, if irritating is good company, then you win the prize."
"Thanks. I think. Look, I just want to help. How about we do this? You get five more minutes in that contraption; I walk you to your room. You clean up a bit, and then I pick you up and give you a little surprise."
Rodney stared apprehensively at John. "A little surprise?"
"I promise you'll like it."
"You promise," Rodney repeated back. "Like you promised that my hand would be fine."
"Rodney, you know that you're the only one who thinks differently, right?" John could see the moisture accumulating in Rodney's eyes. "I swear that it will be, before you even know it."
Rodney breathed heavily to help control his emotions. "It doesn't feel like it."
John didn't know what to say that he hadn't already related to his stubborn friend. John's own story of convalescence after several severe injuries – he just wasn't getting through to the hardheaded scientist. But John knew it wasn't just that. Rodney didn't want to reach for something that he might not ever attain. Denial was a strong emotion. It was better for Rodney to deny that he might get better than it was to hope for it and have it not come true. John had to figure out a way to move Rodney forward and make him believe that things would be okay.
THE HEALING
"So, whaddya think? I did good, right?"
"If you know you did," Rodney said without looking at his cohort, "then you don't need me to tell you." A few seconds passed, and then Rodney added, "Thank you."
John sat up on his makeshift lounge chair and watched his friend. Rodney slowly rolled a smooth mound of soft putty-like material around in his injured hand. The change of scenery for these exercises that Rodney was expected to do on his own outside of his regular therapy sessions had done the scientist a world of good. John had put together this private balcony for Rodney so that he would have some relaxing time to work through his exercises – and be away from any reminders his quarters or his office might provide that could be discouraging to Rodney's progress. Seeing the things, every day, which he still couldn't do with his hand was having a negative impact on Rodney's progress. Out here, Rodney's mind had been freed of the burden of those unfortunate reminders. His focus could be completely on the hand, and working the movements.
One step at a time.
"You're welcome."
This was their fifth day spent out here, away from all responsibilities. Not all day. John still had daily briefings with the people under his command, meetings with Caldwell, Weir. Other responsibilities. But his team was on stand-down, and he'd been able to shed some of his workload to spend extra time with Rodney.
Rodney, for his part, had been given permission by Carson to consult with the other scientists, when needed. That little bit of freedom was as much a curse as it was a blessing for someone like Rodney McKay. Standing back and not being able to touch only ended up putting Rodney in a bad mood. John finally called Zelenka to impress upon him to only reach out to the recovering scientist as a last resort.
"You know, you're sort of staring at me," Rodney noted without looking.
"How do you know that?" John asked, brow furrowed, though the smile he'd had plastered to his face for the last day or so still remained.
"I just do."
John rolled his eyes.
"Saw that, too."
"Okay. That's it," John said. "Enough about me."
"No, no, no. You didn't answer my question."
"You didn't ask me a question, McKay," John countered snidely.
"I…oh, pardon me, Mr. Linguist. WHY are you staring at me?"
"I…" John wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Both of the things that he could say would be true. But one of those things could take their friendship somewhere that he never thought he would ever want. Or it could ruin their friendship forever, if he had been reading things wrong.
John Sheppard decided that discussion was best left for another day.
"You…" Rodney encouraged, waving his good hand to match the encouraging words.
John shook his head. "Rodney, you have no idea how glad I am to see you like this."
"Like this?" Rodney looked quizzical. "Like what?"
"Better. Acting better. Feeling better. Looking…just…getting better. You scared me a little there for a while."
"Oh," Rodney said, knowing what John meant. "That. I…um…I don't know what happened there. I should have trusted you."
"You always can, you know," John said, leaning closer into Rodney's personal space.
"That's not always easy to know. After Arcturus…" Rodney shook his head. "No. I don't mean…I don't know what…depression is a funny thing."
"It is." And John needed to remind himself to reassure Rodney more often that Arcturus was behind them. "But you know, even if you didn't regain full use of your hand, you would still be an invaluable member of this expedition."
"That goes without saying, Colonel," Rodney answered with assurance. "But, I couldn't be on your team."
"That depends…" John started.
"And that was the problem," Rodney insisted, sitting up now, nose-to-nose with Sheppard.
John nodded his head once. "Well, its good that we don't have to worry about that, then."
Rodney's eyes shown with gratitude against Atlantis' deep blue sky. He nodded once, a tear falling down his cheek.
"Yes, it is."
THE HOPE
"What's wrong?"
"Rodney was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time," Elizabeth Weir said as she followed Sheppard and the gurney carrying Rodney McKay to the infirmary. "A piece of metal, or shrapnel of some kind, ricocheted off the railing and embedded in Rodney's hand."
"His bad hand?" John looked ill.
"Better that than where it might have gone, Colonel. His hand in that sling probably saved his life," Carson said in between instructions to his trauma team.
"But…" John looked lost.
"Come on," Elizabeth instructed. "Let Carson check it out."
"Rodney," John called.
"John, I gave him a sedative. This is going to hurt. A lot. I'll come out as soon as I can," Carson said as he turned back to work on Rodney's hand. John left the room with Elizabeth.
An hour later, Carson had a cup of coffee in his hand and a crowd waiting for answers; Teyla, Ronon and Radek had joined John and Elizabeth outside the infirmary.
"He's fine. He's sleeping. His hand had a bit of a setback…"
"A bit of a setback?" John asked angrily.
"John…" Elizabeth warned.
"It's okay, Elizabeth. John has worked very hard to help Rodney through his recovery. The metal is lodged in his hand, and I'm going to take him in to surgery in the morning."
"Why not now?" Elizabeth asked.
"His blood pressure's a little high. We're going to watch that, and make sure it's stable before we rush him in. I'm sure it scared the Dickens out of him. The shrapnel is in the fleshy part of his hand, between his thumb and forefinger. It's very small, but dense. It would have acted just like a bullet, and it was heading straight for his heart. I'm sure he will be fine, but it will add a couple of weeks to his recuperation. Damnable Ancient technology…it's done us a lot of good, but…" Carson didn't need to finish the thought as he looked with regret at his patient.
"I'm going to stay with him," John said. Carson didn't blink - it was a given that would happen.
"Fine. I'll send you in some dinner," Carson said.
"Thanks, Doc. And I'm sorry for earlier."
"Colonel," Carson said, leaning in so that only John could hear him. "It warms my heart the way you two have worked through your differences. Rodney's lucky to have such a good friend. I say this as his good friend - thank you," he finished, pressing his hand affectionately on John's shoulder.
John walked to Rodney's bed and began his vigil. And when Rodney stirred from sleep, in the throes of a dream that threatened to turn violent, John held Rodney's left arm gently and whispered to his friend, "I promise you it's okay. Wake up, Rodney."
Rodney woke, somewhat confused, but sure that everything was okay. John had said so. Rodney hoped that he'd learned by now that he could trust in John's promises.
THE PROMISE
"Rodney, you have to pass this to get Carson to release you."
"Do you think I don't know that, Colonel? I'm trying." Rodney was working harder than John had ever seen. The man clearly felt that he had something to prove. He had aced every other skill, but hand-to-hand was not his friend. It never had been. But if he couldn't pass every skill, as was expected of all away team members, he would not get to go back through the 'gate with his team. With John.
"Good. That's good." John watched as Rodney fooled the lieutenant, took him down and put the knife to his throat. "Yeah!" John walked over as Rodney rolled off of his defeated opponent.
"Now that's the way to put your anger to good use."
"Fuck you," Rodney said as he reached his left hand to Sheppard for help up.
"You sure?" John asked.
Rodney looked up and said, "I promise you I can take it."
"Huh. Sounds like a challenge, McKay." John grabbed Rodney's 'bad' hand and squeezed, pulling the scientist up. McKay fisted and then opened his hand a few times.
"Think of it what you will. I'm famished. Meet me in the commissary in ten?" Rodney asked, winking as he left.
John stood looking at McKay's back and then yelled, tentatively, "Sure."
Half an hour later, a less sweaty and just about no longer starving Rodney McKay and John Sheppard were finishing their dinner.
"Any plans for later?" Rodney asked.
John looked at his watch as he chewed his piece of…carrot cake? It read 2130 hours.
"Um…" he said, still chewing. "Sleep?"
"Yes. Sleep will be good at some point. I don't know. I feel…somehow, invigorated after my workout with the lieutenant."
"Is that possibly because you passed hand-to-hand? You're back on the team. It's exciting, isn't it? Must be an adrenaline rush, thinking about going on your first mission after all this time. Getting to touch all those Ancient goodies we'll find. I bet you're more tired…"
Rodney cut him off. "You're babbling, you know. Are you nervous about something?"
"No." Sheppard knew that he'd answered too quickly. Especially in front of a genius like Rodney, even though Rodney wasn't exactly the best at people-skills. John wondered if Rodney suspected anything. He thought that he'd been able to keep his feelings fairly well suppressed, but Rodney was a smart guy. And John knew that he'd looked longingly at Rodney more than once while he had waited for his friend to wake up while he recuperated. Had McKay seen…
"You're doing it again. Babbling, only this time in your head. Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"
Damned genius.
"Um…are you done? Can we take a walk?" John asked, nonchalantly. At least he thought he was being nonchalant.
"I'm done. And apparently I have a bit of adrenaline to burn. Any ideas on what to do about that, Colonel?" Rodney asked as he rose to his feet to follow John.
John looked at Rodney through squinting eyes. What was Rodney asking? It couldn't be…could it?
John was feeling rather flushed. That wasn't going to help.
"Need directions? Oh, you probably do. Move it along." Rodney walked past John and headed out of the commissary at a brisk pace.
"Um…where are you going?" John asked, working to keep up with an energized McKay.
"My quarters. You coming?" McKay asked, not looking back and not slowing down.
"Um…uh…sure," John stuttered.
"Good."
They made it to Rodney's quarters in no time.
"Are you coming in?" Rodney asked as he took his shoes off and headed to the bathroom. Rodney turned around. "You have five seconds to come in. Then I'm shutting the door."
John walked in. "Like I couldn't open it again if I wanted to," John said, not really under his breath, as he sat down on Rodney's bed.
"Hm. Irritating, that," Rodney said as he entered the bathroom.
John sat, awaiting Rodney's return, not a little confused about what was going on.
Rodney walked in, brushing his teeth.
"I thought you wanted to do something," John said as he watched Rodney brush his teeth, dressed in a t-shirt and boxers.
Huh?
"I c'n't ks oo wih ma muth tstng," Rodney slurped to stop the drool and toothpaste from dripping out of his mouth and down his chin, "lak Germ'n Chocla' Kek."
"I thought it was carrot cake." John blinked once, then again. "What did you say?"
"Un min ut," Rodney said as he headed back to the bathroom. John heard him finish brushing, gargle, and then the whirlwind that was Rodney McKay was back in front of him.
"Are you sure?" Rodney asked. "I thought they were going for German Chocolate Cake," Rodney said, looking puzzled, as though trying to remember the taste.
"I'm pretty sure it was carrot. What did you say before that?" John asked as he stood up.
"I said," Rodney started as he took a step closer to John. "I said I can't kiss you with my mouth tasting like German Chocolate Cake."
"It was carrot," John said as he stepped closer to Rodney. Their chests were touching now, their mouths not, but only because neither man had allowed it.
"No wonder it tasted…" Rodney couldn't finish speaking with his mouth now totally consumed with playing war games with John's. This was a fight neither man was anxious to finish.
The lingering and definitely athletic kiss went on until both men needed to take a breath. Rodney looked at John and said, "Are you sure you want this?"
John pulled Rodney's face to his and kissed him again – a long, deep, sensuous kiss that Rodney had only ever dreamed about experiencing. He doubted even Sam Carter could kiss like this; she certainly never had in his dreams. John finished the kiss, put his mouth up to Rodney's ear, took an opportunistic lick and suck of the tempting earlobe and answered seductively, "I promise."
The End.
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