The Value of a Memory Is
Chapter Eight - Shame
Something hard and sharp dug into his ribs. Snorting, John opened his eyes and blinked sleepily.
"What?"
"Shush," scolded a voice. Sheppard turned slowly to see a young girl glaring from the seat beside him.
"Sorry," he mouthed back, but she ignored him with a swish of her blonde hair. Wary of making another sound, Sheppard started to take in his surroundings.
He was in a classroom, sat behind an uncomfortably small desk, the top resting on his knees. Around twenty identical desks stood in several rows either side of him, and every one was occupied. The audience was young, no more than seventeen or eighteen years old and mostly male, bent over their books or staring forward with bored expressions. The walls were decorated with a number of science themed posters, and there were Bunsen burners and tripods stood about the benches that lined the walls. The floor sloped slightly to the head of the classroom, and it currently made home to a row of four chairs and their three uncomfortable looking occupants, a table bearing something under a white sheet, and a desk, at which McKay stood.
The physicist looked strangely out of place, older than his audience by two decades but wearing the jeans and t-shirt of the younger generation. His expression was twisted into one he normally saved for Kavanagh-patronizing, a regular sport on Atlantis but one rarely played outside of the labs. For the smug, arrogant Rodney McKay, his audience had the same level of intelligence and worth as something he had scraped off his shoe.
"And so the cosmic ray diurnal variation, as observed by neuron monitors and muon telescopes, underwent a dramatic swing in…"
Sheppard experimentally waved at his friend. Several heads turned towards him in confusion, but none belonged to the physicist. An older man dressed in plaid scowled disapprovingly in his direction, then resumed his slouch against the wall. The teacher, he guessed. Sighing, Sheppard leant forward in his seat and searched the class for his missing team mates.
Teyla was sat two rows from the front, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Sheppard considered shouting for her but the teacher was giving him another glare. He toyed briefly with the idea of passing a note to her, then dismissed it as too juvenile. Twisting his head round, he caught a glimpse of Ford, sat on the back row between two ginger boys. The Lieutenant caught his gaze, frowning and mouthing 'sir?' at him.
Sheppard shrugged helplessly, turning back to watch McKay.
The physicist was working himself up over his lecture, crackling with energy, the smug expression still fixed on his face. "So we see eighteen that have spectral distributions consistent with debris disks, a possible signature of…"
"Excuse me." The blonde had raised her hand. McKay stopped talking and raised his head, giving her a scathing look.
"Yes? What?"
"Wouldn't gaps be undetectable in the spectral energy…"
"Yes," the physicist snapped back dismissively, "but the features become apparent in visibility amplitude curves." He sighed despairingly, shuffled his notes, and continued talking. The blonde flushed red and buried her gaze back into her books.
Behind him, the three young men sat on the chairs had gotten to their feet and were clustered around the table, fiddling with the object under the white sheet.
Sheppard instantly decided he didn't like them. The tallest reminded him of Kavanagh, with long, straggly brown hair, his eyes small and his fingers long and thin. The other two were shorter and stockier, one bearing a trail of pubescent dark fuzz across his upper lip, and the other clinically obese. Seeming to have finished their interference with the hidden object, the Kavanagh-like replaced the sheet and then wheeled the table across to McKay.
The physicist stepped down from the desk, his face never turning away from the audience. Continuing to talk with the same, superior smugness, he removed the sheet with a flourish, revealing a complicated contraption underneath. Something built of wires and metal spheres and a number of blinking lights. Sheppard had no clue as to its purpose, and the words currently spewing from McKay's mouth did little to help.
"The brightness of lines relative to the strong continuum, in conjunction with plasma models gives us…"
Inwardly Sheppard groaned. McKay never made the best impression, and John had been ready to despise the man after their first encounter. The intense period of experimentation that preceded their arrival on Atlantis, Sheppard used as McKay's guinea pig for every Ancient artifact in storage, had eventually led to small talk, then banter, and finally snark. Watching McKay walk into the depths of an energy sucking alien to save a city had sealed the deal. He was a good man, but it took a lot to reveal it.
He figured that McKay's classmates had never had the same experience. Student McKay was pompous and arrogant, rubbing his genius in the face of every classmate. Most seemed bored by him, dismissive of a lecture they did not want to understand. The others…
Sheppard looked back to his friend. McKay was fiddling with the object, demonstrating one of his complicated points with the aid of a flashing LED. His three compatriots stood at the back, smirking, exchanging subtle glances.
Stood in front of the blackboard, McKay issued a familiar snap-pop movement with his hands, then started manipulating two of the silver spheres together. He was still babbling, talking a mile a minute, a spiel of science terms and seven-syllable words.
Sheppard knew, instantly, what was coming. Hell, if he had known someone as pompous and egocentric as McKay in school, he'd have had the same idea.
The instant the two balls touched they released a flash of white light and the ear-splitting sound of the air cracking. Blue sparks showered between McKay's hands and the device and he staggered backwards, falling to the floor and landing butt first. His face was bright red and there were streaks of soot across his forehead and cheeks, his t-shirt was singed, and his thinning hair was suddenly defying gravity, stuck up in fine, wavy threads.
The entire class burst into laughter, and unable to stop himself, so did Sheppard.
His friend seemed unharmed, but the smugness was wiped from his face, replaced by a look of anger and intense embarrassment. He staggered to his feet, one hand desperately trying to smooth his hair, and for several seconds he stared out at the crowd, oblivious to the sudden arrival of his teacher.
The scientist's eyes locked onto John's, and for a moment the expression of anger flickered, replaced by shame and disappointment. Swept by a sudden wave of guilt, Sheppard stopped laughing, ready to rise from his seat and rescue McKay from the centre of the hysterical maelstrom. But his friend had turned away and was now limping towards the door, his back bowed, ignoring his the mouthed insults from his three classmates.
"Perhaps," the teacher said loudly, over the noise, "we should continue this another period. Class dismissed."
Instantly the audience started to move, grabbing their books and nudging sleeping friends. The sound of laughter continued echo loudly, failing to be drowned out by the departing feet. With his access to the aisle now free, Sheppard rose to his feet and headed away from the crowd, towards the front of the classroom. Teyla was ahead of him, ignoring the teacher and pushing past the overweight boy to disappear after McKay.
Sheppard could hear the three boys sniggering as he approached. The Kavanagh-like was busy replacing the sheet on top of the machine, and ignored the dark look shot in his direction.
Ford trotted up beside Sheppard, clearly trying to restrain a grin. "Ouch."
"Yeah," he replied, his hand closing around the door handle. It pushed open easily but the school corridor he expected did not appear. The sudden light left retina burns on his eyes, and he blinked away the dark spots.
They were back in the void. Endless white stretched out around them, and when Sheppard turned around it was to find the door he had passed through now free standing, the walls of the classroom gone.
McKay stood several meters away, dressed once more in his uniform. The scorch marks had disappeared but his face was still bright red and he was desperately trying to smooth down his hair. It seemed to be refusing, clinging to the man's hands from static.
Sheppard smirked, only for Teyla to turn round and give him a dark, unforgiving glare.
"Major."
"Sorry," he apologized, but found himself unable to straighten his face.
"Find that amusing, did we?" McKay shot back, scowling.
"Oh come on," Sheppard pleaded, trying to contain his snorts. "You've got to admit, you kind of deserved it, McKay."
"Oh sure. I'm glad you all had a good laugh."
"Well," Ford glanced at Sheppard, sharing a grin, "it was pretty funny."
"Right," Rodney snarled. "Very funny. I bet you had a good laugh when you stepped over kids like me on your way to the locker room." He turned on his heel and stalked across the white.
"Hey!" Sheppard sobered, stepping forward to try to grab McKay's arm. "Calm down!"
"No," the scientist growled, turning on him, "you hey. You have no idea of what it's like to be the kid everyone kicks, hits, spits on, yells at, or just plain ignores. You've got no clue how it feels to be that kid, and face that every day of your childhood life. Don't try and tell me to calm down." He was shaking with rage, lips drawn back thinly.
Ford put in: "But teachers -"
"Oh, please. You think any teacher likes being outsmarted by an eighth grader?"
Sheppard stepped back, raised his hands. "Alright. Sorry, McKay. We didn't think."
"Yeah," Ford offered, his face drawn in genuine remorse. "We're really sorry."
McKay's face hardened at what he viewed as pity. "Don't be," he snapped. "I was better than them. That's what they saw, and that's why they all hated me." He turned his back on Sheppard and folded his arms defensively over his chest.
Ford took a step towards him, but Sheppard put out a hand, shook his head silently. Whatever demons that last image had brought up in McKay, they were his alone to deal with.
"Major Sheppard." Teyla's expression still carried the hint of a frown, and her voice was clipped and curt. "Perhaps we should continue." She walked towards the door. "I believe this is will lead us to the next part of the game."
He flinched under her gaze. "Right. I'll go first."
"No." She glanced at McKay, who still had his back to them, and then looked back at Sheppard. "I will go."
"Teyla…"
"For crying out loud," McKay snapped, turning suddenly, "I realize it was your damn idea to play along with this, but it doesn't matter who's going next. Let's just get on with it."
Teyla caught Sheppard's gaze meaningfully for a moment. Then her hand depressed handle and she opened the door wide, blocking his view inside.
He glanced backwards. "McKay, Lieutenant."
Ford nodded, and McKay turned. He had managed to flatten his hair, but his face was still pinched tight and he did not look at Sheppard, brushing past him to follow Teyla through the door.
Aiden glanced at his superior and grimaced. "I guess an apology isn't going to cut it."
"He'll be fine by the time we get to Atlantis." Sheppard sighed deeply, and gestured towards the door. "Like he says, let's just get on with it."