Explanations Only Lead to More Questions
Rodney McKay wasn't sure if he was having the worst day of his life or the best. They were exploring the ruins on PX-471 when his radio crackled to life and everyone was told to fall back to the gate because the Wraith had been spotted. Unfortunately, they had been spotted too late for him. He had turned to call to the other scientist that had come on this particular mission to make sure the man had heard and listened to the call for retreat. Although he would never admit to it, he knew there were times when he was working on something in which the lab could blow up around him, and he probably wouldn't notice. Rodney wanted to be sure that the other man wasn't the same way. Not that he could even begin to imagine that translating the writing on some ancient ruin could possibly hold the same interest that trying to figure out the unified field theorem could, Rodney briefly acknowledged at least to himself that for someone in the squishy sciences it might be a close thing. Shaking his head, he acknowledged that as chief scientist, he was responsible for the man even if he couldn't remember the guy's name. He couldn't remember the name, but he knew the man's specialty. He was a linguist/anthropologist, and honestly, he would never understand those people. It was like medicine and psychology. Voodoo all the way. Why did they even call it science when everything was so subjective? Physics was a real science. Concrete answers and rules to everything, even if you didn't know what all of the rules were yet you knew there were rules. Muttering under his breath, he had turned to signal the other man and had been beyond surprised and well beyond terrified to see a Wraith standing there as if it had materialized right next to him.
Rodney was almost more surprised when he raised his hand and realized that he had apparently pulled his gun without conscious thought when the alert first went out. Unfortunately, before he could actually fire, he was backhanded and went flying. Surprise turned briefly to amazement when he realized that at least some of the training everyone was being forced to take had actually taken hold. He managed to somewhat roll with the blow and came to his feet having dropped his pocket computer and not his gun. And what that said about the effect one Colonel John Sheppard was having on him, he didn't even want to consider. He sternly reminded himself that, assuming he survived more than another five minutes, he was still going to complain about being forced to train like he had actually been brain dead enough to join the ranks of the military. It was, after all, expected of him. John might suspect that Rodney was actually grateful for the time the Colonel spent with him, especially considering that it might possibly help extend his life a few more minutes, but it was also one of those things that the two of them were never going to admit. John would harangue him into the gym for training, and Rodney would complain nonstop, that is, when he wasn't gasping for breath.
Emptying the gun into the Wraith at point blank range, Rodney cursed at how little effect it had and soon the creature had him by the throat. Gasping, he tried desperately to control the panic that was threatening and swore to himself that if through some miracle he got out of this alive he was going track down explosive rounds for his gun and if they weren't available he'd damn well make some. Military regulations be damned, he wasn't part of the military, and his gun was going to be loaded with them every time he even so much as thought about stepping through the Stargate. In fact, he might take a page out of Sheppard's book and just start wearing the blasted thing everywhere. Having a gun could prove highly useful in the lab the next time Kavanaugh began complaining at him, and it would have the added benefit that he would never again have to wonder, like he was now, if he had any kind of weapon that would actually have an effect on the damn thing that was about to kill him.
Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked over and saw to his amazement that the skinny harmless looking linguist had a gun drawn and was pointing it at them. The guy had guts if not a lot of brains, and while Rodney was grateful for the attempt, he knew that he was a dead man. At least he hoped he was a dead man. He had no desire to end up a withered husk with barely enough energy to keep breathing. With the Wraith's hand less than a foot from his chest, he knew that not even John, who's crashing and cursing approach he could now hear, would be able to save him this time. Closing his eyes, he felt a sharp pain blossom in his chest before he fell further into the darkness.
Rodney woke with a start and gasped as he sat up amazed that he was actually able to sit up. Marveling at the fact that he was still alive and unaged, he allowed himself to be helped to his feet by the other scientist and wondered why John was sitting on his backside gaping at him like imbecile. Checking himself for damage, he was trying to figure out just how he had apparently escaped unscathed when John's words finally registered.
"I think you have some explaining to do. Who are you? Why did you shoot Rodney, and, not that I'm complaining, but why didn't he stay dead?"
Rodney's head came up in shock at the last comment. He had been staring at his bloodstained shirt with the small precise hole in the middle of it and was getting a bit freaked out.
"Dead, what do you mean dead? I'm not dead. I wasn't dead. I couldn't have been dead. Wait a minute. He shot me." Rodney turned to look accusingly at the stranger. "You shot me. Why would you shoot me and if you shot me why aren't I bleeding? Although, it seems fairly obvious I did bleed some, but why aren't I still bleeding? Why isn't there a hole? What did you do to me and who are you? You're in linguistics. Squishy sciences. It's not like you'd get to take over the sciences even if I was dead." McKay's voice became a mumbling drone as glanced from the hole in his shirt to the Wraith and back again and he whispered to himself "Although, I should be dead?" Raising his head to look at the two people standing in front of him, he swallowed hard and fought to keep his voice even. "Alright, so why am I not dead? Not that I want to be dead, but given the hole and the blood, and oh my God the blood."
Rodney abruptly stopped his tirade and began trying frantically to get his shirt off – something that was greatly hampered by the fact that he had yet to remove his jacket. John stepped closer to help him out of his jacket and heard the mumbling continue. "I thought I was dead. I thought the Wraith was going to kill me so what happens I get shot by one of my own people and apparently made temporarily dead. How can you be temporarily dead?" He looked again at Pierson, "Dead is supposed to be an absolute. How can you be temporarily dead?" There was a brief pause, before Rodney waved his hand imperiously at the other man. "Well, I am assuming you can actually explain something about this whole thing and not just stand there smirking. And what is your name anyway?"
"Oh, I hadn't realized you were waiting for an answer. I rather thought you were going to go right on asking questions and mumbling without giving anyone else a chance to say anything. My name is Adam Pierson, field of study – ancient languages and civilizations. To make it short: Yes, I shot you and yes, you died. Congratulations, you are now immortal. Any further explanations will have to wait until we are no in danger of becoming someone's dinner."
Methos had noticed additional Wraith coming toward them and had punctuated this last sentence by grabbing the other two men and beginning to run toward the comparative safety of the woods. Not that the woods were much defense, but at least they weren't falling down remnants of old buildings that were more likely to crumble than to provide any kind of shelter.
"Immortal, what do you mean immortal?" Methos briefly considered that he didn't have to worry about his new student's lung capacity given that they were running full tilt and the man was still spouting questions. MacLeod would have a field day with this if he ever found out. Methos had sworn to himself a millennia ago he wouldn't ever be someone's primary teacher again and now here he was on another planet in another galaxy stuck with quite possibly the most brilliant and quite definitely the most irritating person he had ever met as his student and a brand new one at that.
"I haven't ascended, no light shows, and that hurt," Rodney was still talking when a branch sprang back and hit his arm. "How can I be immortal if things still hurt?"
"Rodney" John's voice was sharp and Methos was surprised when nothing else was said. He was even more surprised that it worked.
Rodney McKay rolled his eyes, and quit talking but not without one final comment.
"We're not finished yet. I still have questions, lots and lots of questions."