Chapter 3: Brothers By Chance
I was in the hazy twilight region between pain-filled wakefulness and the drug-induced depths of sleep, when I thought I heard an all too familiar sound filter into my tired brain. No, not the soft, beep-beep of one of Beckett's heart monitors. Not the quiet hiss of oxygen flowing into the plastic tubing of a nasal cannula. Not even the quick-time tapping of frenzied fingers typing on a laptop keyboard. No, the sound that came through too loud and clear to be ignored was the persistent drone of the one and only loud-mouthed McKay.
It took me a minute to realize he was actually talking to me even though I had been figuratively dead to the world. Did that man ever shut up? I couldn't even be unconscious in peace. Yep, there he was sitting by my bedside, talking his fool head off in a one-sided conversation to someone who was comatose. But I had to admit it worked. The insistent tone of his constant chatter was just the thing to pull me back from the realm of darkness into the light of consciousness. Leave it to Rodney to accomplish this. Mighty McKay, the man who would be heard.
Slowly coming awake, I did not quite make out everything that McKay was rambling about. Something about butts, needles, and haggis involved in voodoo rituals. Even for McKay's twisted mind, that combination seemed a bit...weird. Then again, maybe the drugs were messing with my head just enough that I let my own perverted imagination fill in some of the blanks. Regardless of what he actually said, the sound of his voice was enough to yank me away from blissful slumber and unceremoniously drop me back into the here and now.
My eyes fluttered open and closed as I gradually regained consciousness. I tried to say something, but a groan was the first sound that escaped my lips. A haze-rimmed face suddenly appeared next to the bed and hovered over me. As my vision finally focused, I could see sharp blue eyes checking me over with intense scrutiny before I heard that all-too-familiar voice yell for Beckett.
"McKay, is that you?" I finally managed to squeak out. My throat felt parched and scratchy, causing my voice to sound hoarse and gravelly.
"In the flesh, Colonel." McKay answered quietly. Sure, now that I was awake, he decided to speak more softly.
Rodney disappeared from my view and was quickly replaced by Carson Beckett. He flicked his ever-present penlight into my eyes, momentarily blinding me with its harsh glare. Satisfied that I still appeared to have a sense of sight, he asked me the standard round of who, what, where questions designed to test my neurological responses. At least that is what doctors told you. I think, in fact, these questions were really a form of subtle torture used to make you talk when your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton and your throat was as dry as a desert. If my voice were working better, I would have shouted that I knew who I was. Just get me something to drink!
"Ah, Colonel. It's good to see you awake. Do you know what happened and where you are, son?" Beckett inquired.
"Last I checked I was Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force. And this looks like the infirmary on Atlantis. Now can I have some water?" I tried to sound commanding, but knew my weak croak fell short in that respect.
"Good. Sorry to say, but ice chips will have to suffice for now, Colonel." The ice chips may not have been the tall, cold glass of water I really wanted, but they would do. I accepted them gratefully, letting the coldness melt in my mouth and ease the dryness of my throat.
"How are you feeling? Are you in pain?" Carson checked the drip on the IV line and wrote something down on my medical chart as he spoke.
"Chest and side hurts like a son-of-a-gun. But considering I should be dead, I can't complain." I winced when Beckett checked the dressings over my wound. Let me tell you, having drainage tubes coming out of your chest is not something I would recommend.
Beckett nodded sympathetically before he injected more of his happy drugs into the IV port. "It's to be expected after being shot and having major surgery, I'm afraid. I'll be giving you something to ease the pain and help you sleep. That should be making you feel much better, son."
"Thanks, Carson." I closed my eyes briefly as the painkiller began to take effect.
"Aye, glad to be of help. I'll let Rodney see you for a bit longer, then you need to rest. You have a lot of healing to do, and listening to this bloody fool yap his mouth off will not be conductive to doing either." He winked at McKay and patted my shoulder before he took his leave of us and departed for his office.
"Hmm, Carson has as bad a sense of humor as you do, I'm sorry to say. He just doesn't appreciate the words of true wisdom and insight that emanate from these lips." McKay gloated as he pointed to his mouth.
I just rolled my eyes in response to his glib tone. "Whatever would I do without your infinite font of knowledge, McKay?"
His hand gave a dismissive wave in the air. "Probably languish in ignorance."
"Heard somewhere that that was supposed to be bliss." I replied as I tried to find a more comfortable position.
Seeing me shift in discomfort, McKay reached over and adjusted the bed controls until I nodded in relief. "Bliss is overrated. Besides, I have seen my share of unhappy idiots. Look at Kavanaugh for instance. He is a prime example of a miserable moron if I ever saw one."
No truer words were ever spoken. "Okay, I'll agree with you there."
He nodded and crossed his arms in a typical Rodney McKay stance. "Well, you'd better plan on having a speedy convalescence. I would like to be able to get back to my lab so I can get some real work done. Who knows what havoc my underlings could be causing in my absence while I am busy playing nursemaid to you. If they blow up the lab, I am holding you responsible."
"Not to worry, McKay. Your lab rats are the least of your concerns. You're still the king when it comes to causing explosions and mass destruction." Even in a whisper, I still managed to convey a degree of sarcasm.
Waving his finger pointedly at me, he rocked back on his heels and shot back a retort. "Ah, flattery will get you nowhere, Colonel. You'll wish you had my superior knowledge of bomb building the next time you are inclined to play demolition squad with the C4. Mark my words. You'll come begging for my assistance as usual."
"Speaking of assistance, you saved my ass out there." I acknowledged his role in keeping me alive.
"More like I was the one who got you shot in the first place. If I hadn't insisted we go it alone and we had brought more military back-up, maybe those locals would not have been so eager to use us as target practice."
"Not your fault, Rodney. You didn't force me to go against my better judgment and not take a couple of marines with us into an unknown situation. I'm the military head of this expedition, and I should have known it was a bad idea. I could have gotten you killed." The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to kick myself.
"Wouldn't have happened. Not with your disturbing tendency to jump into the path of discharging firearms. You took a bullet meant for me. As much as I am grateful for your need to be a hero, could you be a little less self-sacrificing for once?" His voice cracked slightly and his eyes blinked several times as he looked away for a moment before returning my gaze.
I gave him an intense look before tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling tiles. "It's my job to protect everyone on Atlantis, McKay. It's what I do." I answered even as I thought of how often I failed to do this one simple task.
"Sometimes you take the meaning of your name too literally. The shepherd watching over your appointed flock. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days. The law of averages will catch up with you." He admonished me with a tight-lipped smirk.
"Yeah, I guess I cut it close this time. Which reminds me, it was because of you that I made it off that planet alive. Thanks for watching my back, McKay. I'm lucky to have you on my team." I weakly lifted one of my hands off the sheet and grasped his in a grateful handshake.
McKay clasped my hand back and nodded before releasing it. I let my hand drop back onto the bed and leaned my head down against the pillow as fatigue and Carson's drugs overtook me. I felt myself drift back off once again into a deep, healing sleep.
I spent the next week in the infirmary, steadily recovering from the whole ordeal of almost dying. Elizabeth, Teyla, Zelenka, and especially McKay were my most frequent visitors during my convalescence. Any time one of them was off duty, they managed to drop by to check on my progress and visit for a while. It seemed within that week, most of the expedition members, military personnel, and even a few Athosians stopped by to see me in the infirmary, much to Carson's dismay. I swear that Scot thought I would shatter like glass if I didn't get my beauty sleep. After the first couple of days of non-stop visitors, Beckett finally put his foot down and only allowed people in within a specified time of day, that is, with the exception of Elizabeth and McKay. As leader of Atlantis, Elizabeth was able to ignore normal posted visiting hours, and as for Rodney...well, since when did any of the rules ever apply to McKay?
But I didn't mind having the snarky scientist underfoot night and day. Like an old pair of worn out sneakers, he just seemed to provide a comfortable fit. After losing so many people in my life, both friends and family, I tended to isolate myself from forming close relationships. I was a loner and preferred it that way. It had worked out better for me, especially in my line of work. Or so I had thought. If I didn't let anyone in, I wouldn't get hurt when they left or when I was sent to another faraway posting. But those walls I had carefully built over the years were no match for the one-man demolition squad that is Rodney McKay. No sir. Those sturdy, strong-as-steel walls of my personal fortress came tumbling down once McKay came calling.
Never in my wildest dreams or even darkness nightmares would I ever have imagined my best friend to be a man like McKay. Hell no. He was arrogant, whiny, sarcastic to a fault, and a hypochondriac to boot. Not to mention the man was a card-carrying caffeine addict who was more at home in front of a computer keyboard than in the great outdoors, and he possessed a smart mouth that had a tendency to runneth over at the most inconvenient of times. But as I spent more time getting to know him, I saw an incredible intellect, which could make imaginative leaps of creativity and envision solutions to insurmountable problems that no one else would dare try. I saw courage under fire even when outwardly he was scared to death of his own shadow. I saw humor and heart and deep down a need to be accepted despite all his foibles. I saw a caring and loyal friend who made me strive to make something better of myself.
Yes, fate certainly did me a favor in sending him my way. On my own, I would have never picked such a man to be my friend. But the world does work in mysterious ways at times, and chance does throw us a bone now and again. Because of a random chain of events that ultimately led me here, I was lucky enough to eventually call Rodney McKay my best friend. The truest friend, a brother-by-bond if not in blood, that I could ever hope to have. He proved it time and time again. Not only when he saved my ass back on that planet a week ago, but also on a daily basis as he steadfastly held vigil by my sickbed, even after he was assured of my recovery. He stuck by me, and I vowed to always stick by him.
A couple of weeks after being released from the infirmary and on the same day Carson approved me for return to light duty, I headed purposefully down the corridor on the way to McKay's science lab. Leaning against the doorway, I poked my head into the room and saw the astrophysicist in his usual location sitting at his workbench. Between dismantling some Ancient doodad, typing notes into his palm pilot, consulting the database on his laptop, and periodically taking sips from his always-present mug of coffee, the multi-tasking, whirling dervish did not immediately notice my arrival.
"Hey, McKay! Don't you ever give it a rest?" I called out suddenly, causing the scientist to spill some coffee on the tabletop when his mug got jostled as he jumped in surprise.
"Geez, Sheppard! Don't YOU ever knock? What is it with you and sneaking up on people? Why can't you make noise when you walk like everyone else? Can't you use a little scuff of your shoes, a swish of your clothing, or a rattle of something in your pocket to announce your presence instead of moving as silently as a cat? You'll be the death of me one day. As it is, I almost got coffee on this device. Do you know what hot liquids do to Ancient circuitry?" He sputtered as he hastily wiped up the spilled beverage.
"Nice to see you too, Rodney." I teased him as I stepped into the lab. "I'll have you know stealth is a valued asset in the military."
"Ah yes, sneaking up on enemies before you kill them or scaring friends into an early grave. I can see where you would easily confuse the two." He flashed me a slight grin. "Well, it's good to see you up and about again, Colonel."
"Yeah, I was going a little stir-crazy confined to bed rest in my quarters these past two weeks. Gets a little boring after a while. Luckily, Carson gave me the go ahead to return to light duty today." I told him as I idly picked up the gizmo he had been working on and examined it.
McKay impatiently swatted my hand until I dropped the device back on the workbench. He pushed it out of my reach so I couldn't touch it again before he responded.
"That's great to hear. So instead of harassing the scientists and keeping us from the really important work around here, shouldn't you be off then doing whatever you military types do? You know, like rounding up the troops, bashing each other with sticks in the gym, or blasting inanimate objects to smithereens?" He asked absent-mindedly while jotting down more equations on his palm pilot.
"Actually, there's a valid reason I'm here. I need your help in the jumper bay. Come on, McKay. Get a move on." I said as I plucked the handheld computer out of his grasp and pulled him away from his workstation.
"Oh, for Christ sakes, Sheppard. What did you break now?" He sighed in resignation as he followed me out the door.
He muttered and bitched about the hazards of letting me roam free within the confines of the city the whole walk to the jumper bay. I barely could get a word in edgewise as he grumbled away, thinking I was dragging him on a fool's errand. Keeping my amusement to myself, I let him rant and rave in typical fashion as we approached the entryway to the vast hanger section of Atlantis.
His face was a question as I keyed the doors to open and led him over to where Jumper One was parked in the center of the room. The maintenance crews had since repaired the minor dings that had resulted from the impact with the treetops as McKay had flown in frenzied haste away from M5J-346. The scratches had been buffed and polished out of the hull, and the remnant bits of bark and leaves embedded in any crevices had been cleaned away. Draped across the front and sides of the ship was a large canvas tarp secured by a loosely tied rope.
The confused scientist looked back and forth from the puddle jumper to me. "What's this all about?"
"Well, I've been doing a lot of thinking these past few weeks since we escaped from that planet. Seems to me that you earned your wings after escaping enemy fire, piloting the jumper solo under duress, and flying us safely home. So, it is my pleasure and duty to bestow upon you, Dr. Rodney McKay, the honorary rank of Junior Airman." I explained.
I pulled a set of Air Force pilot's wings out of my pocket and pinned them to McKay's shirt, as he looked at me in open-mouthed shock.
"Now, a pilot can't be a pilot without something to fly. So, I hereby and henceforth designate the former Jumper One as your personal flight trainer, to be flown by you whenever you wish to get in some flying practice."
"I don't know what to say, Colonel. You are giving me your own jumper? I am...speechless. Thank you." He practically stuttered in awe.
"You deserve it, Rodney, my friend. Consider it my way of saying thanks for saving my life...again! Now, step this way. We have one more important piece of business to take care of." I grabbed his arm and pulled him over closer to the where the jumper stood.
"What business would that be? Is there some secret hazing ritual among Air Force pilots that I should be worried about?" He tried not to look concerned as he fingered the silver wings now proudly displayed above his heart.
"Junior Airman McKay, you should have the honors of christening your new ship." I told him as I pulled out the bottle I had stashed under my jacket and handed it to him.
He took the bottle and studied it a moment before looking back up at me with a smirk. "A bottle of Zelenka's rotgut? Why, Sheppard, I am so impressed by your choice of fine alcoholic beverages."
I shrugged back at him. "We didn't have a bottle of champagne handy, and Zelenka's home brew seemed more appropriate somehow."
"Hmm...I hate to admit it, but I'd say I'd have to agree with you. I have heard last week's batch was a very good vintage." He replied as he turned the bottle in his hand, examining its clear liquid contents.
I reached for the cord that held the tarp in place over the jumper's fuselage. "Go ahead, give 'er a whack."
As McKay swung his arm out and smashed the bottle of booze against the nose of the jumper, I gave the rope a quick tug to release the fabric covering the front and sides of the ship. It fell away revealing Jumper One's newly christened name.
McKay stood there for a moment with his arms crossed as he studied the name I had painstakingly stenciled in bright red paint on the side of the jumper just behind the front edge of the windshield. One eyebrow curved up and he tapped the tip of one index finger against his pursed lips before he spoke.
"Is that what I think it is?" He turned to me and asked after reading the name.
"Absolutely." I replied, barely containing a grin on my face as I watched his reaction to my handiwork.
"Okay. So that must make you the Lorax, right?" He inquired with a tilt of his head while pointing a finger at me.
"Why not? I guess it does in a way." I answered after considering it for a second.
"And you speak for the trees?"
"Someone has to. Might as well be me." I shrugged in reply.
"I have to say, I am not surprised by your choice in literature. Short story done in rhyme with plenty of pretty pictures to look at. Easy to understand. Yes, I'd say that Dr. Seuss is right up your alley."
"Hey, I happen to think the man was an incredibly talented author." I feigned an incensed tone.
"Speaking with a depth of knowledge of all things literary, I presume." He shot back.
"I know what I know, and I like what I like." I crossed my arms, quirked an eyebrow at him, and dared him to dispute that fact.
Nodding in agreement, McKay waved his hand and pointed back over his shoulder at the jumper. "Well, shall we take the...Once-ler out for a spin?"
"Lead the way, McKay." I put my arm out beckoning him towards his spaceship.
"So you're really going to let me fly it?" McKay still seemed genuinely surprised that he'd be allowed to actually pilot the craft.
I clapped him on the shoulder as we boarded the jumper. "Take her up. She's all yours, buddy. Just don't hit any trees this time, will ya?"
The End