Night Shift
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Wrote this for fun, I'm not making any money out of it.
Pairing: John Sheppard / Rodney McKay (later chapters)
Rating: uhm, hard to say. First chapter is K, don't know how the story will develop in later chapters
Author's note:
I'm so nervous! This is my first fanfic ever, so please be nice and tell me what you think about it! Oh, by the way, I want to apologize if there are any mistakes, my English isn't perfect. It's only the first chapter yet, but I'm planning on continuing this. Just wanted to upload what I wrote today and see if anybody out there likes it =)
Important: There will be no inappropriate relationship between an adult and a minor.
x - x - x
Night shift at the ER. Great. It's not like he's already been here for 36 hours. It's not like he's tired as hell. It's not like there is no coffee to help him stand upright, let alone dealing with patients. Oh, right, then there were the patients. Mrs. Steiner, who caught a cold and insisted it had to be something severer, a homeless guy, who wouldn't stop hitting on the annoyed nurses to get some new syringes and a few pills of painkiller, and an daft looking guy, who broke his leg while skating down a rail at the local train station.
Something told Dr. McKay that this night was just another in a row of uneventful nights he spent at the ER. Not that he liked people getting hurt or dying, but he didn't become a medical doctor to prescribe remedies for colds and to struggle with junkies.
The doors of the station slid open and a boy around the age of 17 slowly walked in. He had a sad look on his face and there was something about his eyes Rodney couldn't quite put his finger on. A nurse made her way over to where the young man prowled and asked him something. The boy gave a short nod and McKay noticed his ridiculous amount of black hair on his scalp, which seemed to defy gravity in every possible way.
The nurse handed him a clipboard and took a beeline back to the nurse's station, where the bummer seemed to get a little too obstrusive to her taste. Rodney focused back to the boy right on time to see him flinch and change the hand he was holding the clipboard with. He watched him take a seat and stare at the form he had to fill in. Five minutes passed and McKay wondered whether he would start writing soon or just continue staring a hole into the paper. After another two minutes of perfect stillness the boy moved his left arm to take a pen.
His movements on the paper were slow and edgy. He made the impression of a first-grader at his first attempts to write the word 'cat'. It was obvious that he usually wrote with his right hand. McKay wondered what that circuitousness was all about.
And then he wondered why he wondered so much. Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay was no man who cared why people acted like they did or how people felt. He was a man of facts and knowledge and, of course, skills. But something about this boy had piqued his interest. The hint of... maybe fear... in his hazel eyes, the mysterious way he behaved...
McKay put away his thoughts and without further ado made his way over to the chairs in the entrance area. He let himself fall into the seat next to the boy. The teenager slowly turned his head and looked at Rodney, eyes wide open while he tried to hide his right arm.
He glanced at the clipboard in his lap and saw that the boy didn't get beyond filling in his first name. John, as far as Rodney could decipher the scribble on the paper. He sighed and decided to probe the cause of John's strange behaviour. "Hi, my name is Dr. McKay, can I help you?"