He wasn't good with friendship… Not good at being a friend. Never had

to worry about it much. His intellect made up for any shortfalls his lack

of socialisation skills caused. At school, he was bullied unmercifully by

the jocks until one day he showed them how useful he could be, writing

their essays for them and helping them with exams. Almost overnight

he found himself one of the popular crowd but he knew he was only

there by default, that the first time he didn't perform to expectations

he'd be out eating lunch at the geeks' table again, or worse yet, tied up

naked in the girls' restroom. Not once had he ever kidded himself that

the guys, who thumped him on the back when they saw him in the hall,

or called him Rod as if it was an affectionate nickname, were his

friends. He may never have really had any friends but he knew enough

to recognize that these weren't it.

It had never particularly bothered him. Even when he'd first come to

Atlantis and Sheppard had made him part of his team, he'd known it

wasn't because they were friends. It was a purely tactical decision on

Sheppard's part, and he was okay with that. It made sense, after all, to

have the smartest mind in two galaxies on the frontline team, even if, at

the time, he couldn't hit the side of a barn with the weapon they gave

him to carry.

"Hey, McKay, you still awake?" A nudge against his side and Rodney

turned his head and looked at Ronon.

"Can't sleep," he said simply.

"Scared the big, bad wolves are gonna come back for us?" Ronon lifted

his weapon and hefted it in his hand, shooting Rodney a sidelong grin at

the same time. "Pretty sure I got them all."

"Well, yes, unless they're cannibals and more of them come back to

feast on the dead ones and then on us," Rodney bit out acerbically. He

sighed, cradled his injured arm more carefully against his chest then

said, "Sorry. I'm a little tense. I appreciate what you did. I know you

saved my life."

Ronon shrugged. "You would have done the same for me."

"Yes, you would have," Sheppard said.

Teyla reached across and patted Rodney's shoulder gently. "For any of

us," she said softly. "It's what friends do."

Rodney nodded because it was true. He may not have succeeded as

spectacularly as Ronon had but he would have died trying at least.

He was reminded of that story his mother used to read to him when he

was a kid, the one about the three little pigs and how the house that had

withstood the wolf's huffing and puffing had been the one made of

bricks. His friends were a little like that – his metaphorical brick house.

No matter how many wolves came, his friends would be there, by his

side and at his back, through thick and thin. He looked around at them

all. "Yeah, I know," he said, settling back against the cave wall and

closing his eyes. "It's a friend thing. I get it."