Disclaimer: I do not own Starget: Atlantis, Stargate: SG-1 or any of it's characters...I just make them mildly insane and write fics about them on occasion...
This is a cute little random idea that popped into mind last night...
Because You Can't...
~)0(~
Silence pervaded the air.
There was no tangy hint of salt air, so they must be inside Atlantis; though he couldn't tell for certain, the blindfold was all encompassing. A set of familiar hands pulled at him, urging onwards and he complied without the usual resistance, he was far too tired for that...
For the dozenth time, the Genii had attempted to take the City, and, -for the dozenth time- again, his stunningly magnificent mind had been pushed to the limits of it's endurance to create a whole new way of perceiving the universe in order to save Atlantis and the people in it. Luckily, it had only taken nearly forty-eight hours under constant fire and continuous evasion -a nice way of saying, 'scrambling around the hidden tunnels of the City like a bunch of headless chickens and panicking'- of Genii forces to crack this little dilemma... Afterwards, when his ingenious plan had summarily dispelled the invasion force and freed all those imprisoned, he'd promised himself at least a decent rest...
But here he was, not four hours after attempting to sleep for a week, being frogmarched down the corridor by his teammates...well, he hoped it was them, or he was in deep trouble...but again, too tired to care either way... Someone had placed a large, caveman-esque hand over his mouth, which had instantly woke him from a dreamless sleep into complete panic...rationally, narrowing down the lists of personnel with that characteristic and relative height in his mind, he could only reach one conclusion...the question was, Why was Conan the Barbarian accosting him at some ungodly time of...-his eyes had flickered to the clock-...midday? As he'd groaned, another with small, soft, deft hands had tied a piece of thick, cool fabric about his eyes...
They had bade him rise up and follow their soundless prodding...something seemed strange, but to keep ominous thoughts at bay, he'd run through the equations of his newest world-changing discovery (one of many) in his mind and quietly lamented that none of them would ever be published...at least, until the Stargate was revealed to Earth. He'd groaned again, prompting a cool hand to press against his cheek in concern, but he'd shaken it off gently to let them know he was fine; with his luck, the government wouldn't reveal the Stargate for another hundred years or so...by the time his theories, technological and mathematical miracles and triumphs of experimentation, were published...he'd either be long dead or someone else would have already disproved them.
He'd loudly bemoaned this to his colleagues just the day before as they all lay in the leaking bay beneath Atlantis, staving off hypothermia by keeping his mouth moving and watching warily as they bled into the cool, salty liquid. A bandage snapped sharply as he flexed his shoulders, ribs twinging painfully, as a harsh reminder of that one Genii with the massive sledgehammer...Where do they get those things? He remembered asking whilst dazed and being dragged, wheezing and in mild agony, along a corridor by a hobbling John... Hell, even if someone did, somehow, disprove his theories...he resolved to haunt them for the rest of their lives...
No, what really chafed about the lack of recognition...was that he couldn't rub it in selective faces, like those of a dozen so-called 'Heads of their Field' back on Earth, none of them could hold a candle to what he'd achieved in the Pegasus Galaxy and yet, it was them who stood proudly on the stage and claimed prize after prize. He'd recently heard a colleague had received the Nobel Prize after submitting a paper based on the Theory of Hyper-space propulsion that looked suspiciously like his handwriting... The only good point to come out of it was that Atlantis had received word that the Military had taken into account the fact it was 'stolen military intelligence' and confiscated all the Professor's records and their award... They'd also been effectively disbarred from their field of study for plagiarism of the lowest level...
It brought a smile to his lips as he realised that there really might be such a thing as Karma out there...and then he ran into a wall.
Alright, so Karma did exist...still, it occurred he should maybe be concerned where he was headed, for he'd given up asking after receiving nothing but amused silence from his guides, and his inattention now made it impossible to ascertain their position on his mental map. Had they gone left...or right, when they left his quarters...? He paused.
A door opened before him, he sensed as much as heard the 'swoosh' noise and felt the vacuum of cooler air rush past him; suddenly, the blindfold was released and the lights blared into being from a, until-just-then, dim room as a dozen people yelled, "Surprise!" John Sheppard strutted forwards and clapped him on the back, dragging him away from where he stood, stunned, sandwiched between Ronan and Teyla...his 'captor-slash-guides'. "Hey, Buddy, c'mon in...this little party's all for you! Sorry about the early wake-up call, but we all kind of wanted to surprise you and we were over waiting..." he just kept talking as they steered him up to stand by Samantha Carter, on a small raised platform.
She actually hugged him, careful of his injury as he was of hers; there was a large bandage about her throat and a rather ridiculously sized bandaid on her left cheek, he smiled and she touched it self-consciously and beamed back. "Not...one...word..." she whispered through her smile, his nod was as minute as he could make it, "As long as you don't try to clap me on the back like Sheppard did..." he compromised in an equally quiet voice...
Noticing the room was suddenly quieter, he turned and looked out at what he had originally estimated as only a few members of the expedition...which had rapidly expanded to encompass half of the entire personnel...were looking back, all smiling knowingly. Oh god, his mind started to race, this wasn't like some giant joke where they were waiting to humiliate him for not coming up with a solution faster, was it? "Relax, McKay, trust us..." John whispered from his side, noticing the sudden flicker of horror, suspicion and fear that swept over his features...then Sam turned to the assembled.
"As many of you would know, we were recently in a small amount of trouble...enslaved by the Genii, half-starved, beaten and watching the City crash around us...or as I like to term it, "Tuesday"..." There was a loud echo of laughter at that particular joke, no matter how bad, they all felt the need to be jovial. "But once again, we were saved by the same man who's managed to pull our collective keisters out of the oven on numerous occasions before...Dr Rodney McKay. Many of you are aware he is Head of our Science Department; those of you in the Science Departments, I'm told, have come to fear his wrath more than a Wraith Attack..."
Military types sniggered in a small congregation by the door as the scientists closest shuffled self-consciously, embarrassed under the heavy weight of their scorn...McKay summoned up all the last few days' worth of suppressed rage and directed it into a baleful, death-dealing glare at the soldiers... They were just lucky he didn't have heat vision...yet... However, the smart-ass comments dried up like a puddle under the sun's harsh gaze...he smirked at them and winked at the embarrassed but grateful scientists. No one but him got to mess with his people...
Samantha had continued to talk about what he did on a daily basis, many were looking surprised at the genuine amount of work that went into day-to-day functions, realization dawning on their faces... Yes, people, your showers don't just magically come on, neither do the lights, doors, PuddleJumpers and whatever else you take for granted. These functions -whilst generally self-sustaining for the Gene-carriers of Atlantis- generally don't just magically do whatever it is you will of them...someone has to carefully code each function for that to happen. He blinked sleepily and tried to clear his mind, John pitched in with, "And considering that our collective asses have been in the firing line for all manner of reasons -Wraith...Genii...Wraith...Lucius, damn I still hate that plant-guy...Have I mentioned Wraith?...- and each time we always seem to turn to our most verbally-fit member of the expedition for a miracle... No wonder he has a God-complex..." There was a smattering of nervous giggling from the Scientists, who actually feared him for that very reason... "I've noticed, in these times of stress, or indeed right after, certain people take it upon themselves to let the rest of us know all about their main grievance with the Stargate program...It's secrecy."
Murmured approval silted through the crowds of people before them, as John continued, "I for one, realise that a number of you scientists should be out there, publishing your theories and getting all the praise you deserve for it...but can't because of the anti-disclosure agreement you all signed. Sorry about that... On the plus side, none of you are anywhere near as verbal about the lack of intellectual accolades as a certain person beside me...who, it has been brought to my attention -both by himself and others- probably should have won at least a dozen Nobel Peace Prizes by now, I actually agree."
McKay blinked in surprise, that was high praise coming from a man who'd sooner tell him to 'shut up and fix it' than admit he actually had a point...especially when it came to matters of the ego...but Sheppard was still talking. Wait...no, he was stalling for time as Ronan passed something to Teyla, the Athosian bringing the item to the front swiftly and passing it to John...who just about blinded the front row with his smile. Sunglasses...I need to order sunglasses from Earth...he thought, randomly. "Alright, now that we've finally managed to locate it again...which is why we should have hidden it in my quarters, like I said, but no one listened...so we lost it." He glared pointedly between Ronan, Major Lorne and Samantha; then out across the room to...wait, was that...SG-1?
General Jack O'Neill gave a cheery wave in his general direction, the Jaffa-turned-warrior-for-Earth, Teal'c nodded politely at his sudden attention and it seemed Dr Daniel Jackson was a tad pre-occupied in translating the Ancient on the far wall to notice...he almost laughed aloud, he'd worked it out ages ago. To translate simply it said, "This is a Wall." It could never be said that those Ancients didn't have a sense of humour...he raised an eyebrow in their illustrious leader's direction. Sam merely shrugged and put on her, as he liked to term it, 'kooky grin'...
Having seemingly finished admonishing the other members of the expedition for ending up playing Hide'n'Seek with whatever it was they were holding under that sheet, he turned back to address the generalised assembly...which was good, because, as amusing as this was, McKay was really tired... "To get on with it, so we can all have the forbidden treats our awesome General O'Neill has managed to smuggle to us in a huge crate of MRE's, and poor Rodney can fall asleep in a corner...here we go..."
John stood a little straighter, Sam moved closer and someone that felt like the combined might of Teyla and Ronan bumped into his back, subtly supporting with a hint of, 'You can't get out of this, so don't even try...' which just gave him the warm fuzzies, now, didn't it? "Rodney, or should I say Dr McKay, has put up with a lot of crap...mainly from me, I admit, about his genius and I realise that sometimes I step out of bounds with my phrasing. For example, Rodney, I apologise for telling you you're as cold as a machine with no heart; just a tiny motor choked with evil pushing oil about your body...I realise that was wrong..." he put on his best mock-sincere face as Rodney sputtered with a "When did you say that?". "Kidding, but, I do mean it...we actually appreciate all that you go through for us. Saving the City, using all manner of devices to repel the Wraith, not eating or sleeping for days at a time to fix what we broke...alright...what Ibroke...more often than not. So, after this last saved-the-city-from-the-brink-of-complete-destruction episode, we -as a collective- the people of Atlantis, want to give you a little something."
With a completely unnecessary flourish, he pulled the cloth off...what appeared to be, a small statuette, engraved medallion and...a note? "This," said Samantha, proffering the [seemingly hand-carved] statuette of -what appeared to be, SGA-1, himself at the forefront with a small computer. It had been exceptionally well-painted and bore a small metal plaque he could not make out from this distance... "is a gift to show you we value your intellect, there is no doubt in the minds of anyone here that you would win a Nobel Prize back on Earth, but, seeing as that's impossible...can we, as a collective, offer you this instead? I understand the science teams in conjunction with Major Lorne -our resident artist- photographed and sketched you all in different poses to work out how best to create a statuette; Ronan carved it, Teyla painted it and John made the tiny engravings...I, uh, approved it...so I think I can mention myself in there..." She handed it over and he marveled at the detail...
The small inscription read, "1st Annual Nobel Peace Prize of the Pegasus Galaxy, Awarded to: Dr M. Rodney McKay for unwavering intellect in the face of Danger and Ground-breaking Discoveries that will revolutionize the world ...if they let us tell people about the Stargate, & Putting up with Lots of Crap." He was beaming already, and then someone held out the Medal, a small picture of Atlantis was engraved on one side, 'Hero of Atlantis', on the other...there was tiny print on the bottom that he only just made out, 'To a man who has saved our collective asses numerous times...'
"The, uh, engineering teams made this for you, and the botanists would also like me to mention they're grateful you managed to shield the Hydroponics Bay from the worst of the explosions during the last Wraith incursion...in case you're wondering, John and the military contingent came up with the wording for the inscription on the medal..." the blonde commander gave him a nudge as he whispered dryly, "No...really?" and quirked a small grin to let her know it was only playful. "And this," she said, finally handing over the note, "is from a member of the Medical Team who would like to see you after this is over...If I were you, I'd hide...he's got the big needles in from Earth..." she glared at General O'Neill who yelled out, "What? I had to bring them!" To raucous laughter.
He flipped open the crisp white sheet and flicked his eyes sharply over the strangely-legible-for-a-doctor's handwriting; John read over his shoulder and let out a low whistle, "Dare you to read it out to everyone...?" the Lieutenant-Colonel goaded, to which Rodney cleared his throat and John looked surprised. He hadn't actually meant it...
"Thanks, everyone, this was...actually, this is one of the best days I've ever had, and I can say this without having had my morning coffee yet, so most of my people will know that this is pretty much the Second Coming for me..." there was surprised, cheerful agreement from the Scientists in general, who whispered the frightening exploits of caffeine-less Dr McKay to their clueless neighbors... "the only down-point in the day, so far, is this letter...who wants to hear it?" A loud uproar of agreement, mainly from the military contingent; he noticed how amused General O'Neill was looking at the current situation and the somewhat scandalized expression adorning Jackson's face...must have just finished translating then...Teal'c, as ever, was quiet and composed.
"Alright then, here we go: Rodney, you bloody fool,
Get your ass down to my Infirmary before I come a'huntin' you with my lovely new shiny needles, the size of your arm...trust me on this. God help you if I find you're hiding, avoiding me, or drinking coffee...especially the coffee bit...bear in mind, I can use a Jumper too, so don't try to escape that way.
Also, if you see John, Ronan and Teyla, let me know...I need to see them to change their bandages too, you've rubbed off on them too much, they're avoiding me too...and for the love of all that's holy you bloody fool, don't read this to anyone with that 'Scottish Accent' you mangle everytime...See you soon, willingly or otherwise, Dr Carson Beckett." He finished in the worst variation of his (so-called) Scottish Accent, he could possibly manage...there were hoots of amusement and whispers of 'Glad he's not mad at me!' and, 'Have you seen the size of those needles?'
Everyone was laughing eventually, then Sam raised her hands and directed everyone over to the tables laden with, up until recently, impossible to attain snack foods and drinks...there was interested munching and sipping intermingled with conversations; Sam moved off to mingle with her teammates of the SG-1. Rodney gravitated over to his own teammates, continuously running his fingers over the tiny statuette and the medal, note stashed safely in his pocket. "Guys..." he said in such a tone that John, Ronan and Teyla whirled about to see what was wrong and relaxed as he showed he wasn't in actual danger, "Guys...thanks for...you know, this...Don't worry, I'm not going to make one of those cliched 'We're a Family' statements, but...thanks..."
Ronan clapped him carefully on one damaged shoulder -damn that roof, (right after the hammer-wielding Genii too!) couldn't it have held for two more seconds? Some deity out there had it in for him...- and Teyla touched their foreheads together. She smiled, then moved back carefully -so as not to disturb her injured back, a female Genii had taken a knife to her for no real reason during the attack, it still bled softly- so John could hobble over. No weight really leaning on his half-dozen gunshot wounds from that strangely Rambo-esque Genii soldier...as he said,"Well, genius...how does your ego feel right now?" he said while patting the scientist on the shoulder, "Pretty good, actually...I...don't ever quote me on this, but, I kind of prefer this to a Nobel Prize. Anyone with my IQ can get one back on Earth, but no one else is EVER going to get one of these exactly the same as this one...and that makes it more- what? I'm allowed to get a little sentimental on occasion, could you -especially you, Ronan- all stop looking at me as if I have a second head with a dozen rows of fangs, all of a sudden?"
Ronan glared, flexing the heavily bandaged arms -courtesy of said collapsing roof as he held it off the partially-pinned scientist just long enough to re-instate the City safety protocols and re-instigate the shield before more Genii appeared via a stolen Ship- and flickered his gaze from him, over his shoulder and back again. Teyla also stared, a piece of cake carefully crumbled and slipped from her hands; John looked on the verge of starting a one-legged race all by himself... "Do I even want to turn around...wait, is something going to eat me...?" he asked timidly.
"Oh, aye, Rodney...I'll have a bloody good go!" came the achingly familiar voice, he froze and peered over at the stern face of his best friend on the entire Ancient Base; Dr Carson Beckett. Whoa, back up...make that, Dr Carson Beckett...armed with the most frightening expression he had ever seen AND a needle large enough to suck out his soul... "To answer your question...yes, I did hear you and might I say, if you value your life, never use that bloody ridiculous 'accent' again...especially when quoting me. Right," Carson said, switching from menacing to cheerful in an instant, "who wants to take a quick trip to the Infirmary for some clean bandages and some sedatives...? And Rodney, if you so much as sip that coffee I'll kill you." He added gravely.
Glancing sideways at the teammates who were surreptitiously edging for the doorway, he saw the plan -Ronan already had an arm out and was supporting John, Teyla was balancing on the balls of her feet and SG-1 had quietly directed Atlantis personnel to make a corridor between the hapless team and the only exit- and glared defiantly at the Scottish doctor as he sipped the coffee from his gaudy "Smartest Man in the Galaxy" mug. A growl emanated from somewhere deep within his friend-turned-adversary; he tossed the mug at a nearby pot plant and ran for it...
~~~)0(~~~
Fleeing for his life down a random hallway, ribs and shoulders on fire under their bandages as he clutched the precious statuette and medallion to his chest; he reflected, -as Teyla slowed to run by his side and Ronan (half-carrying a hobbling John) caught up- that this was possibly the best day of his life...even if they were being chased by a homicidal Scottish Doctor armed with giant pointy objects of the rather lethal (and most likely, highly illegal/torture) category...
He laughed aloud, and it was echoed in three other throats; this was just another day on Atlantis...and he couldn't imagine anything better than this...
The End.
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