Line of Fire
By Pouncer
Doctor Rodney McKay stood with Major Sheppard at the makeshift shooting range the Marines had created in a distant pier. The Marines were practicing their marksmanship while Sheppard observed. The sound of the ocean slapping against pilings was a gentle contrast to the bursts of weapons discharging bullets. Rodney stared out at the horizon. It was farther away than on Earth, but the bowl of sky and clouds looked remarkably similar where it met the darker blue of the sea.
It had taken a while to track the Sheppard down, but Rodney knew the major was one of the few people who would have the imagination to understand his new discovery. Ever since Sheppard had insisted on going to rescue Colonel Sumner and the other Marines from the Wraith, flying his newly-dubbed puddlejumper as if born to it, Rodney had found Sheppard willing to go along with ideas that other scientists wouldn't risk. They had no business being in Atlantis if they weren't willing to take chances.
"It seems to be some sort of personal shield," Rodney explained, pointing at the brooch on his chest. "It turned on after Carson gave me the gene therapy he's been working on. Not that I expected the ATA gene to take hold so fast, of course, but it seemed wise to try, just in case."
Sheppard looked Rodney up and down in an appraising manner. "And you're telling me this because?"
Rodney raised his chin. "The shield needs to be tested," he said in the tone he reserved for idiot relatives and small children. When Sheppard just stared at Rodney with a blank look, he continued, "Think of what it could mean, to have this type of advantage!"
Ever since Rodney had accepted Sheppard's offer to join the offworld team, he'd been worrying about survival in the field. Sheppard's report about Sumner's condition after the Wraith had fed on him had given Rodney regular nightmares in the weeks since their arrival on Atlantis.
Sheppard nodded slowly. "I see. And we're supposed to test it how?"
"Well I don't know, do I? Military weaponry is your thing, not mine. Although certain principles of momentum would indicate that we should start slow and work up to a faster velocity." Rodney cocked his head, remembering reports he had read at Area 51. "You know, the Goa'uld have a personal shield that's terrific against bullets and energy weapons, but lets a thrown knife through."
"Slow first, huh?" Before Rodney could blink, Sheppard poked him in the shoulder.
"Hey!" A green haze circled out from where Sheppard had tried to touch Rodney. There hadn't been even the faintest sensation. Rodney could have been standing on the pier alone.
Sheppard was rubbing his finger with a perplexed look. "Well, it seems to work fine against that. What next?"
"I didn't feel a thing." Rodney felt like he had the night he crept downstairs to see if Santa Claus had left him any presents only to find a new upright piano in the corner. This shield was going to be the best thing ever. "Maybe try to hit me?"
"Sure," Sheppard said, but he looked dubious.
"Oh come on," Rodney goaded. "You've had all sorts of training – you must know how to throw a punch?"
"Well, yeah." Deep breath from Sheppard and then he braced himself. Rodney had to consciously not do the same as Sheppard's fist approached his belly.
"Damn it!" Sheppard shook his hand out, wincing.
"Wow." Rodney noticed the Marines were casting glances at the two of them, but who cared when they had an impenetrable shield from the Ancients?
Sheppard tried to poke Rodney's shoulder again and made a sound that was suspiciously akin to a giggle. Rodney narrowed his eyes at the major and tried to remember that they were in the midst of serious scientific research here.
"How about a knife next?" Rodney suggested.
"Yeah, I guess," Sheppard said and pulled a wicked looking knife from his belt sheath. He swiped at Rodney's left bicep. The knife was knocked from his hand by the recoil and almost went over the railing.
"Check on fists and knives," Sheppard said. He grinned and bounced up and down a little bit. "How about my pistol next?"
Rodney nodded, almost overtaken by the euphoria of his invulnerability, but still not able to totally trust the shield. "Okay, but not anywhere vital."
"I'll aim for the leg." Sheppard unholstered his sidearm and motioned Rodney to step back towards the wall that absorbed spent ammunition. Sheppard aimed and squeezed the trigger. Rodney heard a shout from the Marines.
"It's okay," Sheppard yelled back. "We're testing a new Ancient device."
Rodney waved, "I'm fine, see?"
The Marines muttered at each other for a minute, then turned back to their targets with uneasy shrugs.
"You're good at that," Rodney said. "You'd have hit my calf." The prospect wasn't appealing in the slightest, but he wasn't hurt. Hadn't even felt the force of the bullet be absorbed by the shield, hadn't rocked back on his feet, had just stood there. Nobody could hurt him like this, not bugs, not Wraith, not hostile natives. This was better than Christmas, better than coffee or chocolate. But not better than a unified field theory, because nothing could beat that.
"Yeah." Sheppard narrowed his eyes at Rodney. "We need to find a way to test this thing's upper limits or there could be a very nasty surprise in the field."
"Oh, I'd imagine it could take just about anything," Rodney said. "The Ancients built to incredible tolerances. If you think of the stargate system and how it's been abandoned for millennia – no maintenance, no refueling, just quick and reliable travel."
"It could change things," Sheppard said. "Firing at a stationary target while standing still is a lot different than facing real, moving people." Sheppard sounded rueful. "Not to have the problem of dodging the guys shooting at you," Sheppard trailed off, apparently thinking about the advantages the shield could give them.
"Hey, why don't I knock you off a walkway somewhere?" Sheppard asked.
His grin was infectious and Rodney grinned back and nodded.
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Walking through the stargate without a personal shield was possibly the most frightening thing Rodney had ever done. Not that the shield hadn't lost its allure once Rodney realized he couldn't snack to keep his blood sugar levels up, or drink coffee to stay alert, or touch the people around him – he hadn't fancied becoming a modern day Midas, isolated unto death.
Major Sheppard's report of the Wraith had been gruesome enough that Rodney never wanted to encounter a real live one. He'd always been risk averse and to tell the truth he'd been almost certain they would find a stash of fully-charged ZPMs, lying about like a dragon's sparkling hoard, and would be able to dial Earth and set up regular travel home. The deserted and power-starved city they encountered was more desperate than even his worst nightmares, and then to add soul-sucking aliens on top of it was just too much.
Pride and the knowledge that he really was the best person for the job made Rodney accept Sheppard's offer to join his team. Even after the disaster of their first mission and the Bug Incident – where Sheppard had to die to remove an alien bug from his neck, the puddlejumper got stuck in the stargate, and Rodney rediscovered that he didn't work well under pressure – Rodney had decided that he had to continue because he was the team's best chance to return to Atlantis alive. Not to mention their best chance to get back to Earth. But even pride couldn't withstand the shock of Wraith stun bolts nearly singing his hair as the team raced back to the stargate on their next mission.
Rodney had always hated the great outdoors. Forced to run during gym class when he could have been more productively spending his time practicing scales or memorizing the periodic table; exercise and pain were inextricably linked in his mind. This planet could objectively be called beautiful – all green grasses and billowy trees and azure-blue sky; however, Rodney found himself wishing devoutly for Atlantis' sterile hallways.
An iron band tightened around his lungs, and he could hear the wheezing begin just like that two-kilometer torture-fest when he was in sixth grade. Too far. Why the hell had they wandered so far away from the stargate? Sure, the Ancient ruins were interesting, but not when it meant that Rodney had to run for long distances. He hadn't done that since he collapsed with an asthma attack that required a trip to the emergency room after that sadistic bastard of a gym teacher wouldn't let him stop at 200 meters. And it wasn't like they'd found a ZPM to pay off this sprint.
Teyla was in front of him, running sleek as a deer. Sheppard paced Rodney stride for stride, casting concerned looks over toward Rodney and turning to fire his P-90 in short, controlled bursts, a picture-perfect soldier. Ford covered their retreat, just as adept at navigating this chaos.
The Wraith had appeared out of nowhere – no warning, no indication that they were monitoring M5X-127. Of course, all they knew about this planet was what little they'd managed to decipher from the Ancient database, which hadn't told them much beyond the fact that it had been inhabited at one time.
"McKay!" Sheppard yelled, "Zig-zag! Come on, they'll hit you!" To enforce his order, Sheppard reached out and dragged Rodney left. A stun bolt hit the ground immediately ahead of where Rodney had been running, and sparkles started to dance before his eyes as the close call and the exertion took their toll. He began to pant slightly, trying to get more oxygen into his lungs.
"Teyla! Cover!" She had seen it before the Major, was already heading for a fallen tree trunk that bisected the field. It had been a giant, but Rodney didn't want to think of how much energy it would have to absorb to block the Wraith stun bolts. Not that he was thinking so well right now. His fingers were tingling and his breathing had sped beyond fast into hyperdrive. As he dove behind the trunk, Sheppard tugging him deeper into its shelter, the starbursts became grey, then black, then nothing at all.
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Waking up in the infirmary was an embarrassment that Rodney would rather not have experienced. Everyone was so jokey about it – ha ha, McKay fainted again. Even Beckett couldn't still the twitch of his lip as he discussed the possible need to prescribe an asthma inhaler with Rodney.
It was a dejected scientist who drooped through the halls to his quarters after Beckett released him. His first mission encountering the Wraith, and he passed out from hyperventilation. Lovely.
After changing into a clean uniform, Rodney slunk to the post-mission briefing. He didn't say a word while Sheppard and Ford described their frantic retreat and Weir nodded gravely. Rodney tried to escape the moment she stood but Sheppard held him back, doubtless for some parody of a pep talk.
"McKay, don't worry – it takes time to get comfortable in the field. You'll get there."
Rodney nodded. "Oh right. And I'm sure you passed out the first time you faced enemy fire?"
Sheppard shrugged. "Nah, I'd had plenty of training in ground combat by then. You haven't. Don't beat yourself up about it."
Rodney remembered how controlled Sheppard had been on their dash back to the stargate – good at shooting, used to the enemy shooting back… "What do you know about ground combat?" Rodney blurted out. "You're Air Force, weren't you above it all, flying around?"
"I was Army first," Sheppard said, beginning to stroll into the gate room.
"Army? What?" At least the Air Force required a certain amount of technical knowledge, from what Rodney had seen during his time at Area 51 and with Stargate Command. The Army and Marine Corps just shot at things indiscriminately.
"I wanted to fly attack helicopters. I transferred later." Sheppard narrowed his eyes at the Marine guards on the steps, who were laughing over some private joke. One noticed and jerked his head and they both went silent and still.
"Of course you did. It was the only sensible thing to do, I'm sure." Rodney had known the Army was a vile place, he had. Witness those poor boys forced to guard the Siberian base, who only survived by drinking copious amounts of vodka.
"Yeah, it was the only way I could get stationed at McMurdo." Sheppard finally turned and looked at Rodney again, and the light in his eyes was like nothing Rodney had seen before. "And then I ended up here, so it all worked out, right?"
Oh dear. The highest ranking military officer on Atlantis was insane. He had wanted to go to Antarctica? The only reason Rodney had agreed was for the chance to study the Ancient base, and even then his flashbacks to Siberia's chill had necessitated special preparations, including state-of-the-art survival gear and special rations to offset the effect of cold on his metabolism.
And Sheppard thought things were working out on Atlantis?
Joining the off world team had been a very bad idea. Rodney was doomed.
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Major Sheppard accosted Rodney in the mess hall the next morning. "McKay! Good morning." He looked too chirpy for a man who hadn't yet drunk any of their rapidly dwindling supply of coffee. Rodney held his mug closer to his chest and glared over his powdered scrambled eggs and toast.
"What's good about it?" Rodney said, sipping down another taste of caffeinated ambrosia.
Hadn't Sheppard satisfied his morale urges after the briefing yesterday? He should just leave Rodney alone to brood for a while, but no, Sheppard had to drop into the chair opposite Rodney and sling an arm over its neighbor. Sheppard leaned back in his trademark slouch and said, "Nobody was hurt yesterday." His eyes were far too serious for the casual tone. "We're all back on Atlantis safe, even if one of us was carried through the gate." His hand darted out and stole a piece of toast.
"Hey!" Rodney objected.
"Were you eating that?" Sheppard asked. "I thought you were having a liquid breakfast." He bit into the toast and chewed with ostentatious enthusiasm. Crumbs now decorated his upper lip.
Rodney hunched forward and took a bite of his eggs. "This is mine. Go get your own ersatz eggs."
Sheppard smirked and did just that. Rodney tried to ignore the fleeting sensation of loneliness.
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Not that he was lonely for long. Rodney had just begun delving into the way the Atlantis computer systems connected – that Czech scientist Zelinda had some good ideas – when he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. A warm hand landed on his shoulder a second later, making him jump.
"Argh!"
"Hello, McKay."
Rodney didn't like the cheery note in Sheppard's voice. "What? I'm working here, if you hadn't noticed."
Sheppard smiled a carefree grin. "Well, part of your job is being able to keep up in the field." Rodney had known he couldn't trust the man. "So you and I are going to go for a nice easy run around the cleared corridors three days a week."
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Sweat dripping down to blur his vision, lungs heaving, Rodney stopped. "Enough, I'm dying here."
"McKay." Sheppard sounded like he'd honed his vocal cords with a sharpening stone. "It's been five minutes. Come on. Keep going."
"I can't go on." Couldn't Sheppard hear it in the wheeze of his voice? "Leave me."
Sheppard sighed. "I'd hoped I wouldn't have to do this." He reached up to his radio headset and tapped the button to activate it. "Lt. Ford? Plan Delta."
Rodney heard a regular pounding approaching from around the corner. He turned his head in time to see Ford appear, a long object in his hands. A long object he raised to chest level and oh my God that was a Wraith stunner. Rodney yelped and threw himself forward, just ahead of an energy bolt. He cast a horrified look at Sheppard, who started jogging backwards.
"Keep up. Just another ten minutes."
"Yeah, doc," Ford called. "You were heavy when I had to lug you back to the gate."
Rodney set himself to suffer.
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"It's an outrage."
Elizabeth didn't look outraged. She looked amused. "Rodney. Major Sheppard is in charge of this expedition's military forces."
"Yes, but I'm a scientist," Rodney began, only to have Elizabeth continue on with a blatant disregard for the niceties of conversation.
"He's also in charge of off world teams, including the one you agreed to be part of." Elizabeth glanced over at the giant standing ring of the stargate then back to catch Rodney's eyes. "I do not want to see what I saw at the end of your last mission again, Rodney. We've lost too many as it is." Her face closed off and her lips pinched as she examined a spot on her desk.
Rodney hadn't thought about what they must have felt when he was carried back to Atlantis. His eyes darted around Elizabeth's office, looking for a distraction.
"Establishing a fitness regimen is not too much to ask." The finality with which she stated that told Rodney he wouldn't be able to escape.
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Soon enough it wasn't just twenty minutes of mid-morning jogging; Sheppard began to drill Rodney in the proper handling of a P-90.
"Why do I need to know this?" Although scorn infused the question, Rodney was curious to find out Sheppard's motivation.
"In case we need more firepower on a mission. Now show me what I showed you."
Rodney sighed and complied. An automatic weapon was still less complicated than the nuclear bomb he'd built in sixth grade. This should be a snap.
Rodney proved good at marksmanship. That was a surprise, but maybe his mother had been wrong about the future value of Space Invaders.
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The next time they ventured off world, Rodney was determined to do his part with no griping or moaning.
That lasted until the Wraith Darts appeared overhead. "This just isn't fair," he muttered as they raced through the ravine leading to the stargate. Small rocks skittered underfoot, and desiccated shrubs provided obstacles - as if there weren't enough with the stun bolts getting ever closer to Rodney.
"Doc, remember to dodge."
"Oh thank you, Lieutenant. I'm sure I'd have forgotten without your sterling counsel."
Rodney was still complaining when they dialed the stargate. He was only a little out of breath.
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"Oh my God!" It wasn't enough that the Wraith had found them on three of their last five missions. No, this time human enemies had to jump out from behind desert dunes and start using the hapless exploration team for target practice. Their crude projectile weapons threw up sand in little bursts right next to where Rodney and Sheppard were examining a stone obelisk. It emitted an interesting energy signature, but Rodney stopped caring the second he noticed the bullets.
"What is this? Are we cursed?" Teyla and Ford appeared as silhouettes against the purple sky at the top of the dune and began to lay down covering fire as Sheppard led Rodney on a twisting path up its side. "How many bullets can they have?!" A quick look at their assailants had shown raggedy headdresses, threadbare robes, and poor personal hygiene.
"You can never tell," Sheppard said as he threw himself over the top of the dune. "We better get back to the jumper."
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Getting hit by a Wraith stunner turned out to be anticlimactic. For all his carping (and his toes really had tingled for hours), Rodney was more grateful that he'd been able to figure out that Teyla wasn't drawing the Wraith to them deliberately. He'd have to keep an eye on Sgt. Bates in the future; the man took far too much authority upon himself.
At least at the end of it all, they'd managed to capture a Wraith of their very own. Rodney had never had a pet this dangerous before; even that vicious stray cat he'd taken in while attending Northwestern didn't compare. Rodney and Sheppard shared a jittery glance as they pulled the Wraith through the stargate and hustled him down to the shielded area that had been discovered during a scheduled exploration a couple of weeks before.
Rodney slumped against the wall outside their new prison after they'd secured the Wraith behind the force bars. Sheppard emerged, looking faintly green.
"Well," Rodney said. "That went well."
"Yeah." Sheppard didn't seem to be up for much conversation, if the way he leaned against the wall was any indication, but that was fine with Rodney. His arms ached from firing his P-90 for such a long time, and his ears rang faintly. Sheppard didn't look any better, and he rubbed at his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Rodney took deep breaths and concentrated on not hyperventilating now that the danger was past.
"We better get up to the briefing room. Weir will want to know what happened." Sheppard pulled himself upright and inhaled. Rodney watched, fascinated, as Sheppard's pallor cleared and his face set in more relaxed lines.
"What will you tell her?" Rodney asked, beginning to stroll beside Sheppard.
"Oh, you know. Self-destruct devices, pinned down, victory against all odds." Sheppard grinned as they reached the transporter.
"So." Rodney said. "The usual?"
"Yep."
The transporter doors opened and they went to report.
-fin-
Notes: Written for Slodwick's Worst Case Scenario challenge – my prompt was "how to survive in the line of fire if you are the primary target." Dedicated to SeventhSwan, wherever she may be, in memory of that hilarious summer on the Buffy Cross and Stake. My thanks to Hetre Z for her encouragement, and to Rivier and Walter for their beta efforts.
Disclaimer: Sadly, John and Rodney do not belong to me. If they did, John would be an army officer, because air force makes no sense.
Feedback, positive or negative, is always welcome.