"Grrrrr."
Dr. Rodney McKay squinted his eyes at the head of the military on Atlantis. The two men were lounging in what passed for a rec room on their alien home in the Pegasus Galaxy. Actually, 'lounging' wasn't exactly the right word choice for what they were doing, the furniture in the room presupposed a level of comfort far removed from the definition of the word.
"Did you just growl?" Rodney asked his friend.
Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard glared at the expedition's chief scientist. He thought he might have seen Rodney shudder at the look he'd just sent him, except he knew Rodney McKay too well for that to be true. 'Old' McKay might have shuddered. 'New' McKay was enjoying all of this way too much.
"You know that I did," he answered, pausing to prepare his glare a little more carefully, and then added, "Rodney," in an accusing manner.
"What?" McKay returned defiantly. "What, you're blaming me for this? That's typical of the…"
Sheppard cut him off. "If you're planning to say something about 'narrow-minded military mindset'," he started, as though he'd heard the phrase once or twice before, "don't." He stuck his finger in McKay's face. "You know what this is about."
Rodney pulled his face away from the offending finger. "What I know, Colonel, is that you failed to listen to me. Again. I should think someone as smart as you would have learned by now." Both men seemed to hear simultaneously the unuttered 'Ouch' that never made it out of McKay's mouth, the events of Duranda too fresh in both their minds for him to have said what he just did.
"Sorry," Rodney conceded. "But I don't see how you can blame me. The only thing I did was warn you, long before anyone else noticed anything."
"I don't need 'I told you so' from you, McKay."
Rodney looked at John sympathetically. "I'm sorry."
Sheppard shook his head and folded his arms stubbornly across his chest, and then thought better of it as he hissed in pain.
"Stop saying that," he added as he rubbed his chest, frowning at the pain.
Rodney sighed heavily. He doubted that anything he said to the colonel would be the right thing to say on this particular day. No, despite the fact that Rodney McKay had done absolutely nothing wrong, John Sheppard was mad at every one and every thing in two galaxies this day. McKay was just caught in the crossfire.
They sat quietly for a while, but that was something, simply put, that Rodney did not do well.
"Do you want anything?" he asked helpfully. Hopefully.
Sheppard looked McKay square in the eyes and said, "How about the last twenty-four hours back?"
The physicist cocked his head slightly, lifted his chin in the air and responded irritably, "My mistake. Excuse me for not being concise. Is there anything 'I' can realistically do for you or get you?" Crap. John Sheppard really knew how to push his buttons.
John stared at his friend. 'Made him flinch', he thought angrily. 'Why was he so angry?' was the next thought. What he actually said out loud was, "You could leave. I'm really, really, really not in the mood for chit chat."
Rodney nodded his head in acceptance of the dismissal. He stood slowly, looking down at his sulking and hurting friend. "Fine. Maybe I'll see you at dinner." He waited for a response, but all he received was a slight 'hmph'. Sheppard leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
Rodney closed his own eyes and lowered his head in frustration, sighed, and then turned and limped away.
The unnatural gate as he heard McKay leave forced Sheppard's eyes open. In his anger and irritation, pain and frustration about the events of the last day, he had forgotten that others had been injured in the fiasco. Namely, one Rodney McKay. Rodney's limp had been self-inflicted in John's eyes – nobody had forced McKay into going on this mission. They had been to this planet several times before and had developed a successful partnership with the natives. John, Teyla and Ronon were only going as additional muscle to assure the transfer of medical supplies, blankets and assorted trinkets in exchange for vast quantities of fresh produce. The food was plentiful and delicious and Elizabeth Weir and John Sheppard had marveled more than once about their good fortune with this alliance.
McKay had insisted on going along, even though his expertise was needed far more urgently for the backlog of scientific experiments and research on newly found pieces of Ancient technology. The physicist had been hesitant to let his team out of his sight lately. He had good reason: the recent separations from his team when Ford had forced them to participate in his failed plan to gain unlimited access to the Wraith enzyme, his near life-ending isolation in the sunken puddle jumper, and being taken with Ronon by the Wraith…all of these incidents had made him wary to let his team leave Atlantis without him.
Sheppard was going to have to work with McKay on his separation anxiety.
Of course, it figured that the relationship with the Boeltics could not last. The Atlantis team arrived this time to find decimation everywhere, the Wraith having found the planet and wiped it clean, leaving a path of wasted bodies, destroyed villages, and field upon field of burned crops in their wake.
Bastards.
And Rodney had said, as soon as they crossed the threshold to the other side of the gate, that something smelled funny. When Sheppard asked snidely if that was literally or figuratively, McKay had replied with an uncomfortable, 'Both'.
In their rush to haul ass back to the Stargate, Rodney tripped on a root and took a hard tumble. In John's effort to avoid trampling his friend, he weaved left, right into Ronon's path. The former Runner's weapon caught Sheppard square on his ribs, cracking one and leaving an angry and painful bruising of several more.
"Fuck!" Sheppard said, slamming his hand down hard on the arm of the chair. The hard, uncomfortable chair.
"I've wrapped your ribs, Colonel. I'd rather not have you in my infirmary again today," Carson Beckett said as he took the seat vacated not more than ten minutes before by McKay.
Sheppard glared at Atlantis' chief medical officer. It seemed 'The Glare' was John's current preferred method of dealing with people, not that it was giving him much satisfaction. He took a deep breath, and then another, and finally said, "Yeah."
"Something I can do to help?" Beckett offered.
"Not really. Not unless you have a solution to my McKay problem."
"I didn't realize there still was one," Carson countered worriedly. He knew that the two men had been through a rough patch. He had stayed quietly out of the line of fire, but not so far away that he would have had to venture far to lend a hand. Or an ear. But he was proud of these two men, grateful to see that his two friends had worked through their problems. He hoped that the colonel's comment didn't portend a set-back in their progress.
"No," John said, waving his hand dismissively. "It's not that. Rodney and I are still okay."
"Then what's the trouble?"
Sheppard began to lean forward and then thought better of it. Carson winced in sympathy.
"He shouldn't have been on this mission. He wasn't needed, and he could have been hurt, far worse than just a turned ankle."
"This wasn't just anything, John. Hi right foot's a right mess, and he fell hard on his left thigh. Deep bruising. He'll be walking like a duck for days. It's actually a pretty bad sprain. He should have taken the crutches…"
"See, that's just what I'm talking about. He's too stubborn for his own good. I told him to stay here, get caught up on some of the backlog in his lab."
"He's very loyal, very dedicated, our Rodney," Carson tried defending the scientist.
"Yeah, he'd make a great pet," John said bitterly.
"That's a wee bit unfair, don't you think? He wants to be with his team. It's a natural reaction, considering his recent isolation," Beckett explained.
"I don't know, Doc. Over-reaction is more like it."
"John, Rodney thought that he'd lost your trust, and your confidence. There was nothing more painful that he could have suffered after that fiasco. And his recent horrible experiences haven't helped. If he's over-compensating by being somewhat…" Carson paused, grasping for the right word.
"Clingy?"
"Not the word I would have chosen."
Sheppard smiled. "It's the right word."
"Fine. But remember, no matter what your mission, it is advisable to have Rodney around. He might not have made the difference this time, but he's pulled your arse out of the fire enough for you to understand the benefit of keeping him handy."
John looked toward the exit that McKay had passed through just minutes ago. He pointed his thumb toward the doorway and said, "I need to go find him."
Carson laughed and offered Sheppard a hand up. "Careful. Wouldn't want people to think you're clingy, now."
"Funny."
"I try." Beckett smirked.
"See ya. I'm going to go find Igor."
"Igor?"
"Yeah. His gate. Or limp. When he left earlier, it was more like Igor from 'Young Frankenstein' than it was like a duck." Sheppard didn't seem to find much humor in the comparison.
"Back to your quarters after your chat," Carson advised.
"Yes Sir, Doctor Sir," Sheppard said with a lazy salute.
Carson shook his head as he headed back to the infirmary.
A long, slow walk later, John Sheppard found himself in front of Rodney's door. He knocked and waited for the door to open. Long moments went by with no answer. He knocked again and called to his friend.
"McKay. It's me." Still no answer.
"Hey, I can let myself in," he called a little bit louder. McKay must not be there. Probably went for some coffee. John was feeling tired and sore and decided that Rodney had probably headed to his lab to check on things before heading back to his room. Their talk would have to wait until the morning.
He turned and walked toward his quarters, his head down, thinking about what he would say when he saw McKay in the morning. He turned the corner and crashed hard into the wall of Rodney McKay. Sheppard's 'Oomph' as he grabbed at his sore ribs was followed by McKay's shriek as the tray flew out of his hands. Coffee and a couple of pieces of pie hovered in the air. John saw the hot coffee heading straight for him. Rodney reached and slapped the coffee to the far side of the hallway. He also landed badly on his bad foot and went crashing to the floor, his right shoulder knocking into the back of Sheppard's knee. Sheppard's knee gave under the pressure and he fell into McKay, who in turn knocked his elbow hard into the wall as he finally fell all the way to the floor.
John grabbed a piece of wall and managed to stay on his feet, though his other arm was wrapped carefully around his freshly aching ribs. Rodney wasn't saying much; he was holding his injured elbow close to his body and had his eyes shut tight in an effort to endure his pain.
"Och, man, what have ye done?" Carson asked as he approached. "I thought you only wanted to talk with him." Beckett kneeled down in front of the physicist. "Rodney, what's the matter?" Triage experience told him that the one down was the one in the most need of help.
"Hey!" John said defensively. "I didn't hit him, if that's what you thought." He leaned heavier into the wall. "We, well, we sort of crashed into each other." Sheppard looked down at his friend, worried that McKay hadn't made a sound, save an occasional moan. "Rodney, you okay?"
"No," McKay answered plaintively.
"Where are you hurt, Rodney? Let me see your arm."
"Feels broken," Rodney said quietly. "So does my foot."
Carson chuckled. "I don't think either is broken. If they were both broken, you'd have fainted by now."
"Passed out." McKay breathed in heavily and then looked up at Sheppard and asked, "Were you looking for me?" Then he looked to Carson and said, "I would not have passed out."
"Yeah," John answered. Carson remained silent as he examined McKay's injuries. "I wanted to apologize for being such a jerk earlier.
"Oh. Maybe it could have waited 'til morning?"
"Yes. Well, that's what I thought. That's why I was heading away from your room and into the line of fire, so to speak. Great minds, huh?"
"Yea…ow! Carson! What are you doing?" McKay demanded.
"Just checking your mobility, Rodney."
"I think we can all agree that I am not mobile," the scientist commented sarcastically.
"You won't be mobile any time soon if you don't listen to what I tell ye. I'm having your crutches brought to your room."
"And how will I use them with a broken elbow?"
"Rodney, your elbow is bruised. It's not as bad as it feels." Before McKay could respond with the 'How would you know?' reply that was written all over his face, Carson added, "I've brought you the pain medication you called for."
John looked at Rodney, and then at Carson, and then back to Rodney. He frowned, worry for McKay overwhelming him, at least momentarily. He turned back to Carson. "Is he okay?"
"I'm right here. Help me up. This floor is hard."
John reached his arm out.
"Don't be ridiculous, Colonel. Here ya go, Rodney." Beckett helped his friend up. He held on tight to Rodney's waist, and all three men entered McKay's quarters. Both injured men sat on McKay's bed.
Carson kneeled to remove Rodney's shoes. Then he tapped his com and called for one of his staff to bring some ice packs.
"John, how are your ribs? You're favoring them."
"Rodney's harder than you think." Both men looked at him strangely. "To slam into." Carson and Rodney both raised their eyebrows. "Get your minds out of the gutter." Beckett and McKay looked at each other and grinned. John reluctantly joined in. "Okay. That was funny."
"Good for you," Carson said. "Rodney, I'm afraid I need to restrict you to your room for a couple of days." Rodney opened his mouth, the obligatory objection ready as ever. "There is no way that you can heal either your foot or that bruise unless you stay put. The arm, well, it will hurt for a while. I'm going to double the dosage of the pain medicine. Rest will get you on your feet faster."
"Fine."
"Fine?" Sheppard and Beckett asked in unison.
"Yes, fine. I hurt. I've earned a rest."
John put his hand up to Rodney's forehead. McKay pulled away. "Very funny. Look, it's not the first time I've ever agreed with you." He directed the comment to Beckett.
"I believe it might be," John said wryly.
"Shut up," Rodney replied lightly. There was no venom in his reply.
"Shutting up," John said as he rose from the bed.
"Hey, I, um, I didn't mean that. You know that, right?" Rodney asked worriedly.
"I know."
"So, we're good?" McKay asked, still seeking reassurance that he had not offended his friend. Carson headed toward the bathroom.
"Sure. We're great." John sat back down and turned to face Rodney. "We are fine. I trust you and I want you on my team. I'm sorry if I made you think that, by what I said earlier, that you weren't important."
"Oh. Well. I appreciate that." Rodney yawned. "I'm so tired."
"Me, too. And here's Carson with your meds. Take them, please?"
Rodney looked into John's eyes, and knew that the two of them were fine. And he knew that a clear way of proving his belief in that fact would be to do as John asked. He held his hand out. Carson placed two pills in it. He tossed the pills in his mouth, swallowed the offered water, and started to remove his jacket.
"Easy, Rodney. I'll help with that."
"Thanks, Carson," he answered as he tried to blink away the exhaustion. He started to lie down and said, "Goodnight". John jumped up quickly before he had McKay's head in his lap.
Carson was looking at John strangely as he rushed from the bed. "Hey, we know his head is hard, and I'll bet it's damned heavy. And you know I'd have a wet spot in the morning."
John frowned and Carson's eyes grew wide as they both acknowledged Sheppard's unfortunate word choice.
"Good God, man," Carson admonished. "Watch your phraseology!"
The End.