After leaving the infirmary and delegating the rooming job to Lorne (who probably further delegated it to a lower ranking soldier), Sheppard went to look for McKay. As he expected, he found the scientist hiding out in the labs. McKay looked up from the laptop in front of him at the sound of his friend's footsteps. "Sheppard."
"McKay." Sheppard took a seat next to him.
"Look, I know what you're here to say. And – and I don't think it's my problem." McKay looked down at his keyboard defiantly. "I've never even met the girl, so forgive me if I'm not all warm and fuzzy with parental affection. It's not my problem! It's his mess, so I'm washing my hands off it effective immediately." He made a brusque hand washing motion and flung down an invisible towel. "There. Done. I don't want to hear any more about it! Okay?"
Sheppard raised his eyebrows at his agitated friend. "I was actually just here to remind you about team movie night."
McKay deflated at that. "Oh. Well, good!" There was a short, awkward silence. Then, with an obvious attempt at nonchalance, McKay asked "It's Ronon's turn to pick, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"Well, If he thinks I'm going to sit through another Rambo marathon, he can just...what's wrong?" McKay had suddenly noticed Sheppard's face, the closed off, tight mouthed expression that always signaled danger.
Sheppard did not answer right away, but when he did, it was in that low monotonous tone he used when there was an emotion lurking under the surface he did not want to expose. "For the record, Marie's not the other McKay's problem either. Not anymore, anyways."
McKay's face darkened in an irritated glower. "So we're back to that, are we? At least clue me in on what the hell you're talking about now."
"As I understand it, both Rachel and Marie are property of the U.S. government now. She's an orphan, and Rachel, I take it, is a runaway."
McKay blanched. "What?"
"I think their SGC's got dibs on them at the moment, though. You know, 'nurture the talented young,' and all that. But why should you care? She's not your problem, remember?"
With a gaping mouth, McKay visibly struggled through a series of emotions, and Sheppard watched him without uttering a word. Finally, the latter stood up. "Well, you look busy," he said, gesturing to an open game of Free Cell on McKay's laptop, "I should probably get going." Without further ado, Sheppard left a conflicted looking McKay sitting alone on in an empty lab.
***
Later that day, Sheppard was getting his ass quite literally kicked by Teyla in a sparring match. After he swung at and missed her for the umpteenth time, Sheppard gave up and threw his stick to the floor, sulking as he regained his breath. Teyla placed her own stick down gently and approached Sheppard with a concerned expression on her face. "John, something is troubling you. Would you like to talk about it?"
Still panting, Sheppard shook his head and bent to pick up his stick. "What do you say to a rematch?"
Teyla, however, placed a hand on Sheppard's arm to stop him. "I think that is enough for today." Her dark eyes looked up at him in worry. "Please know that I am here to listen, if you need to talk." She raised her eyebrows slightly, egging him to speak.
Sheppard sighed, finally relenting to Teyla. He felt a little frustrated at the fact that he never seemed to win at anything with her. "It's that damn McKay," he admitted with a scowl.
"Rodney?"
"Yeah."
"Have the two of you been fighting?" Sheppard could hear Teyla try to refrain a reprimand.
"Not exactly." He sighed again, and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he thought about how to explain the root of his frustration. "It's just – he's just like my father sometimes." It sounded idiotic to his own ears as soon as the statement slipped out of his mouth. But it was true nonetheless.
"Rodney is like your father?" Teyla raised an eyebrow, evidently confused.
"He said something today – something that reminded me of him." Sheppard paused, and Teyla waited for him to continue. "My father always preferred his job to his family, or at least it always seemed that way to me. If I had a penny for every missed football game, every forgotten birthday, every time he just didn't have time for me... When I finally walked out, he didn't call, he didn't write – he just wrote me out of his life. I waited for him, all that time, to just write me a one line email – to check if I was still alive. He never did. Maybe he was too stubborn, maybe he just didn't care. I guess I'll never know, will I?" Sheppard looked down at his hands, a sad smile on his face.
Teyla looked at him with mingled pity and concern. "Rodney is a good man, and your friend. He would never abandon you in that way."
Sheppard shook his head. "It wasn't me I was thinking of."
Teyla frowned. "I am not sure I understand."
"That girl from the alternate reality, Marie, is his daughter. Well, in her reality."
A look of comprehension lit Teyla's face. "I see. John, you must understand that this is a difficult situation for Rodney. Give it time." She patted his arm, the warmth of her hand lingering on Sheppard's shirt in a rather comforting way before she pulled away and picked up her stick. "You mentioned a rematch?"