AN: Okay, the big day is coming soon, but not here yet so you can all breathe easier - or can you?
Not the Daddy…part 27
Pregnancy clock: 8 months 3 weeks
Rodney held on to Ronon heavily, wrapping his arms around the big man's neck in equal parts desperation to not fall, and a way to ease the pain.
"Ow, ow, ow – watch it!" he bitched.
His leg was killing him. Was there some curse that he didn't know about? Go through the gate, and every ten trips gets you three life-threatening or very painful injuries? Because it sure seemed like the odds were stacking up that way.
Ronon was carrying McKay effortlessly, cradling him like a baby. "It's going to hurt, McKay. It's broken."
"I know, but I don't do pain well. Ask Teyla, she'll tell you."
Beckett was running towards them, with a gurney not far behind. Gurney good, because being hefted like a baby was embarrassing. "Put me down," Rodney hissed.
Ronon's mouth twitched, but he moved towards the gurney, and let Rodney drop – a bit roughly, to the bed.
His leg howled at the contact. Oh god, that hurt bad, really really bad. "Cut it off, Carson. Just cut it off. Get rid of it. I don't need anything that can cause that much pain."
"Rodney, if I did that, you'd wind up missing your appendage, trust me," assured Beckett. He waved to the tech to start the gurney down the hall. "We'll get some pain medication in you soon, and you won't feel a thing, promise."
McKay reached for Beckett's arm, "Give me massive doses. I want to be numb. I want it to be so dead you could chain saw through bone and I wouldn't feel a thing." He seemed to realize something else, because his forehead smoothed, and pulled back, "This is going to take forever to heal, isn't it? I'm going to be in a cast when the baby's born. No, no – you've got to do some kind of insta-heal. Damn it! Why did the natives have to insist we ride those stupid beasts? I told you," now McKay was glaring over his shoulder at Lorne, "I don't ride things that I eat."
"Nobody else got bucked off," said Lorne casually. "Maybe it just didn't like you."
Carson sighed. "Major, perhaps you should go debrief Elizabeth. I'll get your exam after. There's nothing bleeding or oozing, or anything else potentially disastrous that I should know about?
Lorne shook his head, and waved jauntily at both Beckett and McKay. "See you later, Docs."
Rodney just groaned. This couldn't be happening. Weeks away from Sheppard's due date – Dreya's due date, and he had a broken leg. It was bad enough that he'd have tons of pain, and a cast, but how was he supposed to be a labor coach if he couldn't even walk without crutches. Damn it!
OoO
John was listening on the ear piece and growing more and more impatient. Nobody was talking, except chatter from the gate techs. All he knew was that the team was back, everyone was accounted for, and McKay was en route to the infirmary.
He tossed it down in disgust, and got ready to go to the infirmary himself, when his door chimed. Finally. Elizabeth was back, or she'd sent someone to tell him what was going on.
He thought it open, and Ronon came striding in, pushing a wheelchair.
"Knew you'd want to go," he said for an explanation.
"Rodney?"
Ronon helped ease Sheppard into the chair, and John settled in awkwardly, because his mind truly thought he had a protruding belly. He moved like a heavily pregnant woman, and it was difficult as hell. Back when the first mind vs. reality conflicts began, he'd thought if he just concentrated hard enough, he could get his brain to realize the signals being interpreted weren't his own. It hadn't taken long to realize the best he could do, was force his hand down to his real skin. But running, walking, bending – his mind just wasn't going to give up the input, regardless of what was really there.
"Broke his leg, complained enough for two, but he'll live."
McKay had broken his leg? Ouch. Not the usual small injury, and the thought of Rodney in a cast for six weeks made John wince. He was going to be a real bear – and then the thought occurred to him that McKay was going to get a little dose of what being laid up really meant, and just how boring it can be.
Of course, then Sheppard felt guilty, because aside from the fact that McKay hovered and drove him crazy, he'd been John's lifeline. He'd been there when he was sick, tired, cranky, confused, depressed – you name it, and he'd been there.
"Drive on, Jeeves," ordered Sheppard lightly. If Rodney could do it for him, then he could do it for Rodney.
Ronon started pushing the chair and asked perplexed, "Jeeves?"
Why did Sheppard have to keep picking up non-Earth people to be on his team? They didn't get any of his jokes –
OoO
When Ronon delivered Sheppard to the infirmary, Beckett had McKay in a corner, an IV already running and they were putting the cast on his leg. Ronon pushed him over to McKay's side, and nodded at the doc.
"Thought I'd save him making the trip on his feet," rumbled the runner.
Carson nodded tightly, but didn't look happy with Sheppard. "You should be in bed, Colonel." As he talked, he looked at the plaster, and then up at the x-ray.
"Doc, he's on my team."
"He'll be fine, clean break, hurt like the devil for the next few days, and he'll be in the cast for about six weeks, but he'll be fine. He's on some heavy pain reliever right now, so there's no reason for you to stick around."
Traitor kicked angrily at his insides. Even the kid didn't want to go. "He's been there for me," Sheppard said stubbornly. "I'm fine in the chair. I won't get up and run laps, promise."
Ronon put the brake on the wheelchair, making a point for Sheppard. "I'll be back to get you in a couple of hours," he said, and lingered for only a moment to give Beckett time to protest. When he didn't, Ronon left.
Carson wasn't happy but he started wrapping another strip on Rodney's leg. "If you've got any pain or contractions, let me know, we want the wee one to stay in for at least another week," he warned Sheppard.
One more week, five at the most, and now Rodney was the one out of action. John was so close to going on missions again, and knowing there'd be another week tacked on made him depressed all over again.
Pushing aside regret he peered at Rodney. McKay was stretched out on the bed, changed into scrubs, and the IV that was delivering his pain medication dripped what seemed to John a little fast into Rodney's hand through the needle. He was a bit pale, but McKay tended to be pale anyway. Maybe a little bit more than normal. He was sleeping from the drugs, but every now and then he'd flinch from the pressure on his leg.
Right now, Rodney was quiet, but Sheppard figured when he woke up, there'd be an earful. He sighed, and hunched in the chair. Sure seemed as if there were a black cloud over them lately. One problem after the next, injuries all over the place. McKay had only managed to get the bandages off his nose a few days ago. If this kept up, he'd talk to Teyla about getting Halling to do some kind of ritual blessing over them, or next thing he'd know (or not know, since he'd be dead) they'd be sent home in a pine box.
At some point, Sheppard began to drift off to sleep. He heard Rodney stirring, and knew that the pain was dragging McKay into the world of wakefulness, but John was too deep into slumber to pull back and stay awake. He tried to tell himself to shake it off, and wake up, but it didn't work. By the time McKay woke fully, it was only to see a snoring Sheppard sitting beside him, slumped in the wheelchair.
OoO
Later, John woke in his bed, back in his quarters, and wondered how the heck he'd gotten back here? He pushed up from the pillow, and cradled a hand against the heavy belly. The wheelchair was pushed against a wall, and a dinner tray was on his desk. It was late, and glancing at the clock told him just how late. Probably everyone that normally visited him was asleep. Ronon had obviously brought him back and tucked him in, a notion that irritated him. John hated being babied.
The dinner tray was probably cold, but he got up and retrieved it anyway. The cake was going to be good, at any rate, and chocolate cake was better than nothing. He ate the cake, and the dinner roll, shoved the cold meat dish to the side, and drank the juice. Now he was bored, and wished he hadn't slept the evening away.
At this hour, no one would be happy to see him, but he was bored and restless. He missed McKay being there to drive him up the wall late at night. Sheppard looked around the room, and his eyes fixed on the laptop. The equations. McKay had asked him to solve the equations, and he almost had them. It was as good as anything else to make the time pass, and maybe it'd make him sleepy enough to go back to bed.
Traitor kicked half-heartedly, and John rubbed the tyke's foot that bulged out. He wondered if Dreya was doing the same thing, or if she was sound asleep like most of the people in the city.
Sheppard pulled the computer over, and turned it on. Equations. Focus on equations…
OoO
"What are you doing?"
John jerked, and his face stuck to something. He could feel the sweat on his cheek. What was going on? His muddled mind tried to catch up as he pulled his head off of something, the something that was generating heat and causing his face to sweat – he'd fallen asleep on the something. He'd pieced that together.
"You drooled on my computer!"
Sheppard's brow wrinkled, and he blinked at the blurry shape, and were those peg legs? Huh? He blinked a few more times, and the shape focused into a belligerent Rodney McKay, on crutches, and staring at the sweat-slicked laptop with disgust.
"I didn't drool," defended John, as he lifted it off his lap, and closed the top. It'd been running all night, and it was generating enough heat on his legs to make those sweat, too.
McKay moved forward with awkward swings of his crutches, till he was close enough to pull the computer towards him. He balanced on one foot, and shifted the crutches out from under his arms, to one hand, and then to the floor, while sitting down on Sheppard's bed.
As he opened the cover, and the programs came up, Rodney rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the irritation slowly changing to delight. "I knew it! You've got it, This is fantastic."
Sheppard was still trying to wake up and figure out why McKay was in his room. And what time was it anyway? He glanced at the clock. If he'd been a cartoon character, his eyes would've bugged out of his head. It was almost noon! He looked down at his tummy and muttered, "It's all your fault."
Scrolling through the mathematics, Rodney shook his head at John. "Can't blame the kid on your avarices."
"It is his fault – her fault. Anyway, why'd Doc let you out so soon?" Sheppard peered at Rodney's casted leg. "How's the leg?"
"Broken, and there wasn't any reason to keep me, and, it's not his fault."
Sheppard pushed himself carefully off the bed, needing to go take care of his full bladder, the one that Traitor was happily kicking against. But on the way to the bathroom he said to McKay, "Kicked you out, didn't he?"
As he splashed water on his face, and came back into the room Rodney nodded. "I don't know why he got so irritated, just because I questioned his ethics in giving that guy with the horrible acne more pain medication than I got -"
"The guy's still there?" asked Sheppard in surprise. "Ouch."
McKay shuddered at the thought. "I didn't even know skin could erupt in that many locations." Rodney seemed to pause, and stared at John. "Why am I talking to you – I came here to yell at you."
John snorted, and walked over to his dresser, pulling out a clean pair of pants and black t-shirt. "Sorry for distracting you from your original idea. By all means, carry on."
"I saw you in the infirmary, what were you thinking! That baby is hanging in by his tiny feet, and you go gallivanting around Atlantis as if he were corked in there."
There were days where Rodney's tirade would've caused Sheppard to get angry. But this wasn't one of those days. McKay was sitting on his bed, albeit reduced to crutches, but alive. Traitor was kicking happily – yeah, he had a thing for Rodney – and baby was almost ready to be evicted. He was pretty happy, and not even McKay's rants could take that away, in fact, it almost made him happier, because a pissed-off McKay was status quo.
He laid out his shirt on the bed, and pulled his old one off, picking up the new and sliding it over his head. "I heard you were hurt, and was worried," and he'd never admit that again, "and the baby is just fine. Ronon pushed me in the chair."
Rodney only huffed a little more, still stuck on the equations. "Don't do it again. I was fine – well, not fine, a little broken, but it could've waited. I'm here now, aren't I? And as touched as I am, I'd prefer the baby stay put a while longer."
He'd prefer? Sheppard shook his head. Crazy world. He dropped his pants, and slid on the clean pair, before wadding up his dirty clothes and tossing them into the hamper in the corner.
As he buttoned them, Traitor did a full body roll, and his fingers fumbled. McKay looked at him shrewdly, but didn't comment, his eyes moving back to the screen. Sheppard finished buttoning once the baby quit trying to rearrange his insides.
"By the way, Carson told me that you're off of bed rest, want to get some breakfast?"
Rodney was just now telling him that? Sheppard remembered again that this was almost over, and he forced the smile on his face. "Sure, why don't we. Anything else important to let me know about?" he asked tightly.
Closing the laptop, and holding it out towards Sheppard, Rodney reached down for his crutches once John had taken the computer. "No, that's about it. I'm hungry, let's go."
"You sure?" asked John. "Because I'd hate to get to the messhall and find out that I'd missed an appointment, or briefing, or you know, something important. Like my being let off of bed rest!"
"Are you always this cranky in the morning?" Rodney motored himself after Sheppard. "I assumed the bad moods every morning were a symptom of you being pregnant, but if not, we're going to have to work something else out in the mornings. I hate getting up, and having to deal with you will send me over the edge. Especially until I've had some coffee."
Sheppard was walking ahead of McKay, and fought to control himself. That good mood he'd had earlier, and swore he'd keep, because it was almost over – it was disappearing fast. "Rodney, this isn't cranky. Trust me. If you want to see cranky, just hang around when Dreya goes into labor." He imagined, despite the promise of drugs, that was going to make him pretty cranky.
"When you go into labor," corrected McKay, breathing hard from the effort of using the crutches. "You get the symptoms first, remember? And did you know you waddle?"
He had forgotten, and "I don't waddle."
"Yes, you do," insisted a huffing Rodney. "You're doing it now."
John slowed, forcing himself to take careful manly steps forward.
A tsk behind him and Rodney said smugly, "Nope, still waddling."
Sheppard spun on his heels, and yanked Rodney forward, helping him balance as the crutches slid to the side, and growled, "Stop watching my ass."
They finished the remaining feet to the mess hall walking alongside one another, and with Sheppard trying hard not to waddle, but with a mental groan, he knew McKay was right. He was waddling. The good mood – it was gone. This was embarrassing.
They went through the serving line, and Sheppard helped McKay with his tray. After getting drinks, and grimacing in disgust but not bothering to protest when Rodney put a big glass of milk on his tray, they found a seat towards the back of the room. The lunch crowd had the room filled and if Sheppard had thought ahead he would've waited till it was less crowded. He felt the eyes of the curious watching his every move.
At least Traitor was sleeping. He'd been pretty quiet since they'd left his quarters. Movement tended to lull the little guy to sleep, and he wondered where Dreya was. It was lunch, she should be showing up soon, unless she'd eaten earlier.
"Is this seat taken?"
Sheppard looked up and saw Kate Heightmeyer standing with her lunch tray.
He frowned, before forcing it down, and gestured for her to have a seat. "Sit," he said.
McKay took a bite of his burger, chewing pleasantly, and Sheppard suddenly thought this was a set-up. Get the pregnant man where he couldn't protest without making a scene.
"What's this about?" he asked warily. "Because I've made it this far without baring my soul." God only knows, he'd bared about everything else over the course of the past six months.
She set her tray down, and pulled the napkin off the tray, putting it on her lap carefully. "Nothing you don't want, Colonel," she assured him, taking a sip of her juice. "We thought you might want to talk about any fears regarding the labor and post partum time."
Fears? How about ignorance. He'd read the book all the way up to the labor and delivery, and post partum period, and stopped dead because in his mind, the second that baby was on his way out, he was done. He knew that the bond extended for a month after, but big deal – the baby would be officially 'out' and his part over.
Of course, that'd been before he'd gotten attached to the little guy, and now he found himself looking forward to the big day for entirely different reasons.
"No fears," he said, and purposefully took a big mouthful of his turkey sandwich.
Rodney snorted in his drink. "That's not how you acted the other day, when it didn't look like Carson was going to get labor stopped."
Sheppard's eyes narrowed dangerously at McKay. "Rodney -" but he stopped, and looked guiltily at Kate. He'd been about to suggest McKay do something unnatural with his crutches and in light of present company, that probably wasn't a smart thing to do.
"Look, there's nothing to talk about. It'll hurt, until Doc drugs me like I've made clear I want, and then afterwards I'll get to see the baby, and we'll do that 'hi, I'm the guy you've been kicking for the past months' and move on. What else is there?"
Kate's smile had nothing to do with anything less than Sheppard's simplistic idea about the end of the bonded road. "Colonel, have you considered how painful the recovery might be? And the hormonal changes that a woman goes through after a baby is born?"
"Oh, no," whispered McKay. "He's not going to get all depressed and emotional again, is he?"
"No, he's not," snapped Sheppard. He stood up, grabbing his tray irritably. "And he's going to go talk to Elizabeth, so, if you don't mind, I'll see you later."
He stormed off without giving them a chance to say they did mind.
OoO
He decided against talking to Elizabeth, and instead headed back to his quarters. He was waddling, and now worried about the labor, and post partum period, thanks to Kate, and figured hiding out was probably the better way to go right now. That way he wouldn't get pissed when people stared, and snap some poor sergeant's head off.
The next few days were spent with Sheppard avoiding as many people as possible, yet McKay and Dreya seemed to constantly find him. He'd duck into remote rooms, and go to the messhall later or earlier than most, and still there they'd be, waiting and smiling.
McKay's cast was so covered in signatures that it looked black instead of white, and he pointed out new ones every time John found him. His point being that Sheppard hadn't signed yet.
And he wouldn't. He was still pissed at being set up with Kate and having his little bubble of denial punctured. He'd finally broken down and read the section on labor and delivery, and the weeks immediately after.
The only reason he wasn't a total basket case was because Beckett had promised him drugs. Good drugs. As for the after, he'd have missions to go on, and things to keep him busy, and he couldn't see how that'd allow him to be depressed, hormonal and cranky. If he'd made it through this pregnancy, he figured it couldn't be that hard to get through the final month of this bond. He'd have the baby to play with, too. And that kind of made him smile for the first time since Kate had confronted him.
Speaking of Beckett, he was on the way to talk to the doc about having him and Dreya in a private room. The infirmary was open, and he knew that a lot of personnel were excited for the upcoming birth. Traitor was the first baby born on Atlantis in at least ten thousand years, and that was making people dream up celebration parties and lots of intrusive ideas. The betting pool he knew was huge.
He glanced at his watch, it was 2100 hours, so it should be fairly deserted. He slipped into the back door, hoping to avoid as many people as possible, and glanced around for Beckett. He wasn't out in the main area, so probably in his office.
Walking as stealthily as possible, he saw a light on in Carson's office as he came nearer to the door. Cool. He'd figured Beckett was still around, and his hunch looked good.
It wasn't till he strode into the office, and started to say, "Doc, just the man I needed to see -" that the words died on him, because it wasn't Beckett sitting at the desk. It was the med tech, Brodie, the one that had niggled at his thoughts, and the tech was scrolling through files on Carson's private computer.
"What are you doing?" snapped Sheppard, knowing something wasn't right.
The man was fast, coming around the desk, and ordinarily, it would've been quite the fight, but Sheppard's physical status was a disaster from the pregnancy, and movement was slow and awkward, and despite trying to force his body to respond quickly, it didn't.
The last thing Sheppard was aware of, was a meaty fist coming at his face, and knowing he wasn't ducking fast enough –
TBC