Chapter 2 - Be a Lert, We Need More Lerts

Rodney sighed and rolled over on his bed, slitting open his eyes. He was awake, but he really didn't want to be. His head hurt and his body felt like he was under too much gravity. Did Atlantis have a way of changing the gravity?

He groaned and slit open his eyes. The sun was up. Crap, he should gave been in the labs hours ago. He lazily watched motes of dust dance in the sunlight. He couldn't remember ever seeing the sun at this slant before. Not that he was really ever in his quarters when the sun was up. He sat up slowly and realized he had never undressed. He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He grimaced at the rough feel of the stubble on his face. He needed a shower. He made a face. He needed to brush his teeth too. If felt as if something had crawled in his mouth and died. Something fuzzy and foul tasting.

He pealed his socks off and dropped them on the floor and then stood a bit unsteadily and undid his belt, pulling off his pants. He dropped those on the way to the bathroom. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped that just outside the bathroom. He pealed the rest of his clothes off and turned on the shower, standing there a moment to let it get hot before he got in. He had been a little, well, a lot surprised that the Ancients had amenities much the same as they did back home. He stepped into the hot spray of water and winced a little until he got regulated and then he just stood there, letting the hot water beat down on him, easing some of the ache out of his body. He really was going to have to learn not abuse his body this way. He took his time showering. He sighed as he turned off the water. The Ancients had come with a completely ingenious way of heating the water as a by-product of the desalination process that meant unlimited hot water.

He wrapped his towel around himself and moved to sink to start to shave. He rubbed at the steam on the mirror and moved automatically through the motions of shaving. A loud clattering sound startled him. His eyes snapped open and realized he had started to doze off and dropped his razor. He picked it back up and finished, starting to shiver. The room was cold after the hot shower.

He wandered out into the other room and found clothes to change back into. His stomach growled reminding him he hadn't eaten in a while. He pulled on a clean shirt and fresh pants and then sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks. He sat there a moment and caught himself starting to drift off again.

He needed coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

He started for the door and tapped the opener. He stepped out into the hallway and then stopped, looking down at his feet. He wiggled his toes and sighed. He headed back into his room and had to look around for a while to find where he had kicked his shoes off the night before. He finally found on under his bed and another under chair. He sat down and pulled them on and then snagged his jacket from the floor. He pulled it on, heading back into the hallway. He yawned and slipped into a bit of autopilot to the room they had set aside as the mess hall.

He rubbed his temples as he walked. Food and coffee would help the thumping in his head and the sick dizzy feeling that still dogged him. He scrubbed his hands over his face again.

He heard the buzz of conversation as he entered the mess and headed straight for the coffee carafes. He filled up a mug only to have someone reach around him and take it out of his hands. He blinked and then followed the mug around and found himself face to fac with Carson. He sighed irritatedly. "Carson."

"You need rest, not caffeine," the Scottish physician informed him.

"I've had rest," he said. "I need caffeine now."

"Not enough. You look like crap, Rodney," the man said gently.

He glared, feeling a sudden heat flare inside him. "Thank you for your, oh so, complimentary appraisal," he snapped, grabbing the mug of coffee back from and sloshing the scalding liquid out over his hand. He swore hotly, switching hands with the mug and trying to shake the burning sensation away.

"For pity sake." Carson shoved him into a seat and started checking his hand. "Rodney, what is the matter with you?"

Chagrined and in pain, he decided his best course of action at the moment was to keep his mouth shut. He was tired and he was acting like a spoiled child. He set the mug down and grimaced as Carson twisted his throbbing hand. "Can you not do that?" he finally blurted out. "It hurts."

"Of course, it hurts you've got second-degree burns on it," Carson snapped. "Man, are ya' daft? That coffee is hot coming out of that thing."

He started to make a comment back and then thought better of antagonizing the person who could make the pain go away.

He felt tired and sick and his hand hurt and all he wanted to do was go hide in his office until he could make sense of what was going on around him. He felt a cool hand on his forehead and opened his eyes. He frowned slightly, how did they get shut?

"Rodney, look at me," Carson instructed him.

He blinked and stared at the other man crouching in front of him. "What?"

Carson held Rodney's burnt hand away from both of them and then stood. "Come on, you're coming to the infirmary with me."

"What? Why?" Rodney asked petulantly. "I mean, I have to get back to the lab."

"Not right now," Carson said firmly. "Not until I figure out what's wrong with you."