Wow! A hundred and one reviews! I'm delighted! I never thought I'd get such a wonderful number of comments. I don't know what to say other than thanks, I'm honored, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. This piece is a bit short, but I still have those pesky reports waiting.
Guarding the Shepard
Chapter Eight:
Lorne was nodding in agreement with Elizabeth, Zelenka looked vaguely concerned–like we were somehow going to blame him for all this–and Rodney was punishing his pencil for being in the same room as bad news by rocking it nervously between his fingers. The ticking of the pencil against the table was unusually loud in the quiet. There was only so much of that I could take, and yanked it back as Elizabeth clicked her comm.
"Ronon, Teyla...This is Dr. Weir. Please come to my office." She looked around the table again, pausing at Rodney's outraged expression. "Dr. McKay? Is there something you want to add?" She had that teacher face on..the one that always noticed when you had something you wanted to keep to yourself and everyone else felt you should share. Did you bring enough gum for everyone in the class?
Rodney glowered at me and quickly put his hands back in front of him. I smirked, the pencil waggling just out of his reach under the edge of the table. "No, no, Elizabeth. Everything's fine. Well, you know, not fine fine, but good. Well, maybe not good, but, well..." he sort of stuttered to a stop, his face turning red.
Elizabeth sighed, her eyes flicking in my direction. I was saved by Teyla and Ronon approaching the door to her office. Ronon always moved like he knew for a fact that everyone and everything would get out of his way. And they did. I'd heard of only a couple of incidents where brave, or foolish, people had tried to play power games by standing in the middle of the hallway and pretending they didn't see him coming. It wasn't the part where Ronon picked them up by whatever handful of clothing was handiest and set them to the side. It wasn't even his complete lack of interest in playing such games. It was the part where he never broke stride and never looked at the person removed from his path. Kavanaugh swore one of his hand knitted sweaters had stitches broken in a pattern that exactly fit Ronon's right hand. I was sorry I'd missed it. There had been talk of stealing it from the laundry room and framing it.
Teyla sat down near Radek, who blushed again. Ronon dropped into a chair near the back wall, where he would have the widest view of activities outside the office. The room immediately felt smaller, and the ceiling lower. Ronon was not built for indoor activities.
Elizabeth nodded at both of them as they settled. "Thank you for coming." Teyla gave her a smile and Ronon's expression didn't change. "It has been determined by Dr. Zelenka that the destruction of the Colonel's computer was not accidental." She gave them a moment to think about it.
"You are certain?" asked Teyla, giving me a concerned look. I smiled my everything's good smile at her, but she didn't look like she believed me.
"Yes. The chemicals that caused the explosion are readily available and easily obtained. Is that not correct, Dr. Zelenka?"
The poor man was going to have to have his blood pressure checked if he stayed red like that for much longer. His eyes looked for somewhere neutral to rest, and he finally chose the middle of the table. "Yes. We have plenty here on Atlantis. They are not restricted."
"How did they get into your office, Sheppard?" Ronon leaned forward a little, making his chair squeak.
"I imagine they just walked in. It isn't like the door's locked." From the look on Ronon's face he was considering smacking me on the back of the head.
"You don't lock your office door?" There it was. That how could these people have survived this long being so stupid look he used to express his opinion of our self-preservation skills.
"Its not like I keep anything important in there, Ronon! Its my office! Anybody who wanted any of that paperwork was welcome to it!" I tried not to sound defensive, but Ronon was right. I didn't lock my office door, so anyone could have gotten in and fiddled with my computer. Rodney took advantage of my discomfort to snatch back his pencil from where I'd been drawing a smiley face on his pant leg, and gave me a sharp rap on the ribs with it before transferring it to the hand farther away from me.
Teyla looked thoughtful. "I spoke with some of your people today, as you requested, Dr. Weir. Everyone knew some parts of what has happened, but no one volunteered information that might lead to the person or persons responsible for any of the incidents."
"Well, you didn't expect someone to just jump to their feet and confess 'I did it! Throw me in the brig!' now, did you?" Rodney was holding the pencil like a microphone, the back of his other hand pressed against his forehead.
"Hey! You're investigating without me?" I frowned at Teyla.
"No, Dr. McKay, I did not. However, sometimes someone may say something that seems useless, even irrelevant, without understanding how that small piece fits into the larger puzzle."
"You started questioning people without me?"
"Dr. Weir felt I might be less...intimidating?...than calling on Major Lorne's people."
Elizabeth nodded. "Let's try not to turn this into a police action, if we can avoid it. We live in close quarters here, for all the actual space that's available, and tempers and personalities are already delicate."
"Now wait a minute! Shouldn't I get to be involved in this? After all, its me this stuff is happening to!" Like pod people, all six of them turned, in unison, to stare at me. I got six different versions of have you received a head injury lately? It was intimidating as hell. I slid down a little in my chair. "Maybe not?"
Elizabeth continued as if I hadn't spoken. "Until we know why this is happening and who is causing it, there will be a guard posted at your room, John." She looked at Lorne, who nodded once.
The meeting went downhill fast after that. On the other hand, I don't think I'd ever been thrown out of an office more politely.
III
The rest of the afternoon and evening went by pretty boringly. I couldn't concentrate on anything because of the codeine, and any too-fast movement made the world tip and shiver. The rec room was too noisy and my ears protested by waking up the quilters and producing whining and clicking noises randomly in my left ear. Dinner was average, meaning at least half the food still had a recognizable taste to it, but I just couldn't get interested in the conversations going on. Finally, I just gave up, dumped the rest of my tray, and made my way through the crowd out to the hallway. I paused to take a breath, but closing my eyes immediately made me feel like the floor was tilting, and I opened them quickly.
"Sheppard."
Startled, I whirled around, and then had to put a hand on the wall to keep the world from continuing to spin without me. "Jesus, Ronon! Don't sneak up on me like that!"
He shrugged. "I'm not sneaking. Just walking. Not my fault you didn't hear me coming."
I pointed to my ear. "Remember? Ear injury?"
"Sheppard, you don't hear me coming even when your ears are working fine."
"That's beside the point. You want something?"
"No."
"Something wrong?"
"No."
"Okay, then." I straightened up and turned, carefully, to head down the hallway. At least I thought I was going to walk down the hallway. I got a step away before being stopped in place by the pressure of my shirt against my chest. I risked a look behind me, and sure enough, Ronon had me anchored at the end of his arm. "Not funny, Dex," I snapped.
"You're going in the wrong direction." Keeping a grip on me, he closed the space between us and started turning me back again. Trying to stay in place was like fighting the tide. It was turn, or risk adding a twisted ankle to my collection of injuries.
"And what direction am I supposed to be going in?" He still had a hold of the back of my shirt, but now was pressing me forward. "Cut this crap out and let go of me!"
"Soon as we get to Beckett."
"I wasn't going to Beckett! I don't want to go to Beckett!" He continued to push me down the hall. Digging my heels into the smooth flooring didn't do anything except make my knees hurt. I couldn't move fast enough to break his hold without getting sick. I ground my teeth and decided I was going to make a special list of scientists who could only go on missions with Ronon.
I was marched into the infirmary on the end of Ronon's arm, much to the amusement of Nursezilla. He let go of me within reach of one of the beds, and I was straightening out my shirt and planning my escape as Carson poked his head out from his office.
"Colonel?" He started across the floor towards us. "Is there a problem?"
"Oh, yeah." I pointed at Ronon and snarled, "And he's standing right there."
Ronon was leaning against another bed, his arms folded across his chest, not appearing to be bothered in the least by the sight of his commanding officer glaring at him.
Carson looked confused. "Er, something's wrong with Ronon?" He looked at the tall man, who just smiled and shook his head, pointing back at me.
"He won't eat. He's dizzy. He's whining."
"I'm not whining!"
Beckett patted the bed. "Hop up here, son. Let me take a look."
"I'm fine, dammit! Leave me alone!"
Carson turned to Ronon. "Ya left out the part where he's in a bad mood."
Ronon grinned. "Its hard to tell from his regular mood."
"Oh, ha, ha." I started to sidle down the side of the bed, but now I was pinned in between the Man Mountain and Needle Maniac.
"No problem. I kin look in yer ear just as well with ya standing up." He fished around in his coat pocket and came up with his otoscope.
"Fine!" I didn't exactly hop up, but I managed to get onto the bed without jarring my eyeballs too much.
He pulled on my earlobes, stuck that light so far down I was pretty sure if I opened my mouth he'd be able to see out, and muttered. Doctors always mutter. Makes me nervous.
"Well?"
He patted me on the shoulder and threw away the cap from his 'scope. "As I said, Colonel. Yah've got a little swelling, a little inflammation. Yer gonna be dizzy, yer gonna be sore. Are yeh having problems with noises?"
"Yeah," I admitted. "Weird noises–high pitched mostly–in my left ear. They come and go. Makes my eyes water."
He nodded. "Its to be expected. As long as it comes and goes, I think ya'll be all right. If it becomes steady, though, I want to know about it right away."
To be expected. Three of the most irritating words a doctor can say. Not to mention they always seem to expect the worst. No doctor has ever expected anything good. Maybe its in their license.
He held out a hand to help me down, then frowned. "John, yer just pushing yerself too hard. I told ya to take it easy for a reason. Go back to yer room. Rest. Read. Play computer games, if ya want to."
"Can't. My computer blew up."
That made him blink. "Ah, well, perhaps ya can get a loaner. But I mean it, son. Yeh aren't doing yerself any good stomping around and acting like a boyo on a rainy day."
I wasn't sure what a boyo was, but it didn't sound complimentary. "All right! Fine! I'll go back to my room."
"See ya tomorrow, then." I got a pat on the back from Beckett, and escorted back to my room by Ronon. Dex watched me open the door, and the guard didn't react as I returned Ronon's half-raised hand with a middle finger wave good-bye.
I looked at my watch. It was too early to go to bed. I didn't feel like reading. I wasn't hungry. My computer had blown up and I hadn't thought to get another one. I sighed. I supposed I could play solitaire with the cards I kept in my desk.
I went back to my bed with the cards, and shook out the blanket to make a smooth surface. I was surprised by a folded piece of paper that fluttered out and slid to the floor. I grabbed at it, and missed, as it went by, then gingerly retrieved it from the floor. It was just a note from Dr. Hemmelwhite, asking if I could stop by Lab Seven in the morning. He had something he wanted me to activate. I realized I hadn't had any Colonel you must requests since being blown through the Stargate. Maybe there was an upside to being temporarily separated from the comm system. Although now that it had occurred to one of our geniuses that note writing was still a viable communication system, the word would spread and everyone would decide that I didn't have anything better to do as long as I was confined to Atlantis.
I dropped the note on my desk and got onto the bed. Sitting crosslegged, I laid out the cards and proceeded to lose a statistically impossible number of games.
