Stuck!
A/N: I have expanded the summary of this story due to suggestions from the audience. See, I listen! More reasons to leave me reviews!
A/N: I think EvieMay is right, the local Moofia boys may have had a hit out on Julie. She's gone into hiding! And you know, she's been turning an eye toward this bull that kinda looks like John Sheppard. I don't think I like that. Or maybe she's hit the road. She's had this crazy idea about visiting all the states in reverse order and visiting biker bars. There are no missing spoons. Hmmm... Maybe I'll bake a pie. Will finish reading my more recent reviews once I've posted this chapter.
A/N: My life is empty. The only thing that might make me whole once again is to receive more fine reviews from my fair readers.
[{O}]
Chapter Fifteen: From the Mouths of Babes
John called into his radio again, growing more frustrated by the minute when Dr. Zelenka didn't respond. The scientist apparently wasn't wearing his headset — a habit shared by many of his colleagues — and didn't hear John's frantic radio calls. Changing tactics, John called Stackhouse and Lorne, charging them with retrieving Zelenka.
Eyes closed, still shaking badly, Rodney drummed his fingers on the blanket, fidgeting and muttering softly to himself, repeating something over and over under his breath, as if afraid to forget it—which was horribly likely. The tears continued to flow down the cheeks, unabated. At least he was no longer choking-Biro, covering for a sleeping Beckett, had already determined that it was just the excitement and his sitting up too fast that had caused that.
Dr. Biro continued to hover around McKay, trying to look patient, but at wits end as she attempted to examine the squirming boy. "Dr. McKay," she tried to reason as she pulled the stethoscope from her ears, "Dr. McKay, you really must calm down. This isn't doing you any good."
Rodney grimaced, and shoved back at the doctor when she made to touch him again, not budging her an inch.
"Now, Dr. McKay, I know you're more comfortable with Dr. Beckett," Biro tried, putting on a tight smile that did nothing to betray her unhappiness with this fact. "But it would be best if listen to me. Try to lie back and relax. Now, let me know that you understand."
Not answering, McKay shook his big head severely, and kept muttering.
Biro sighed, "But..."
"He can't. Not yet," Sheppard explained. Biro looked at the colonel who shrugged, seeming to understand McKay's refusal to listen to her. "He's coming, Rodney," the colonel reassured the shrunken scientist.
"Not fast enough." Rodney got out, as he continued his fevered figuring. He gave Biro a dirty look and ducked his head down again.
Uncomfortably, Sheppard turned to the doctor and said, "Might be best if you stepped away from him for a bit. He's not too easy around you."
"Hmph," she muttered, trying to smile at the situation. "Yes, I can see that." She made a little nod and said, "I think we can let Carson sleep. This crisis appears to be over, for the moment. Call me back if you need me."
As Biro disappeared into the back of the room, Rodney opened his eyes and John could read the fear and confusion lurking in the blue depths, his hands slapping at the bed in frustration. "It's going away. I can't...Give me some paper," he demanded impatiently.
The only paper in the immediate area was Rodney's medical chart, so John decided it would have to do. "Here." He snatched the clipboard and a pen from the table beside the bed and placed them on the bed.
Rodney grabbed the items eagerly, but the pen fell from his stubby little fingers—they were shaking too much to hold on to it. His frown deepened and he mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "son of a bitch" as he grabbed for it again.
A smile twitched on John's lips at the sound of such a phrase being uttered in a high, childish voice. The smile faded when he noticed Rodney's continuing difficulty with the pen. Reaching over, he gently plucked the pen out of the tiny hand.
Rodney stared at him, as if he'd been betrayed. John raised a hand to forestall the rant he knew was coming and said simply, "Dictate it to me."
Relief flooded the soft features. Rodney gave John a grateful nod as he began to speak, his voice trembling with emotion as he fought to keep the ideas in a coherent order.
Once he was finished, John asked uncertainly, "You sure that'll work?"
"I haven't lost all my faculties," Rodney snapped, his mouth twisted into an attempt at a sneer that he was simply too cute to pull off successfully. Now that it was down, the shaking started to subside, and the intense stare started to fade again.
"I didn't say that," John said, forcing a smile. "I just wanted to be sure."
"It will work." Rodney looked over at the withered body in the next bed. "It has to work."
The frightened, pleading look on Rodney's face made John's chest tighten painfully. He swallowed hard and pasted a smile on his face, hoping that this idea would succeed. The alternatives were just too horrible to contemplate.
[{O}]
It was nearly fifteen minutes later when Dr. Zelenka rushed through the door—laptop tucked under his arm—and skidded to a halt by Rodney's bed, looking much like a drunken cartoon character. John realized then that the diminutive Czech had probably not slept at all since they retrieved the device from the planet. He looked beyond haggard, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair in even more disarray that usual.
"Rodney?" Radek asked breathlessly, cracking open the laptop and settling it on the edge of the bed.
"Hiya, Radek," Rodney greeted him, seeming oddly calm now, eyes blinking tiredly. The little boy almost appeared to melt into the infirmary bed, curled on his uninjured side. "You look like hell."
Waving a hand dismissively, Radek replied, "Is nothing. I have seen you look worse."
With a faint smile, Rodney said gleefully, "Guess what?"
Radek hesitated for only a second, glancing at Sheppard, before tentatively asking, "What?"
The smile became a smirk. "I know how to fix it."
Radek's eyes lit up, smiling back. "Yes? How?"
"Guess!"
The Czech's smile tightened. "Rodney..."
"McKay," Sheppard said, nudging the boy's back. "Just tell him." The boy grimaced, sulking a little, then grinned again at Radek, not hiding the smugness in his eyes.
"The biometric sensor array, dummy! Use the crystals from the console to replace the main biometric differentiators in the device on the planet—the ones Ronon exploded. They easily have enough resolution to isolate the different DNA signatures."
Typing madly on his laptop, Radek nodded. "Of course, Ja am blbec! I never even considered... But what about the secondary matter exchange? We've repaired the main energy conduits, but the crystals responsible for the transformation of the matter were also damaged. We've tried using the Gate's crystals, but the process is too different, as you know."
"That's even easier. You just...just..." Rodney blinked, and looked at him blankly. He blinked again, and his lips started quivering. "Wait, wait...I...I don't know." Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his chubby cheeks. "I don't remember!"
"It's all right, Rodney," John soothed. "I've got everything right here." He tapped the medical chart before handing it to Radek.
"But I don't remember!" Rodney wailed. "I had it! I knew it! I did!" He banged his tiny fists on the blanket, gasping in pain as the movement jarred his injured arm. "I wanna remember," he pleaded to the air. "I...can't...cant..."
"We will fix it," Radek said solemnly, looking as though he wanted to cry himself. He stared down at the chart, and shook his head. "Brilliant," he whispered, too softly for the still crying McKay to hear.
"Zelenka?" Sheppard asked, watching the Czech carefully. Radek lifted his head, and smiled at the colonel.
"It'll work," Radek said, nodding. "He got it." Sheppard closed his eyes in relief.
"Can't remember," McKay whimpered into his pillow, curling himself tighter. "Can't remember...wanna...'memmer...Colonel..."
"Shhhh." John sat on the edge of the bed, and Rodney instantly curled up against him, as if holding on for dear life. The colonel sighed and gently rubbed his distraught friend's back—feeling the heat radiating from him. "Take it easy. Everything will be all right."
Rodney's crying finally subsided into occasional sniffles as he leaned heavily into John, eventually drifting off to sleep. The colonel grimaced—it was like having a furnace pressed against his side.
An exhausted Carson chose that moment to bustle into the room, wiping his own sleep from his eyes and frowning at John. "What's going on in here? I thought I told you to leave him alone."
Radek answered for him. "Rodney is upset that he cannot think properly."
Noting the death grip that the now sleeping Rodney had on the colonel's shirt, Carson's expression softened.
"Poor lad. He's had a hard day."
"I'll get started on this right away," Radek said quietly, giving them a pained smile before he rushed out of the infirmary as quickly as he had arrived.
Carson watched him leave, then asked curiously, "What's that about, then?"
"Rodney may have found a solution," John explained.
Carson raised a skeptical eyebrow.
John shrugged. "He was his old self for a little while. Long enough to come up with some ideas, anyway."
Turning a sad gaze on the sleeping child, Carson sighed. "Let's hope it was enough."
John gave him a grim nod.
"Where's his chart?" Carson asked, ducking his head to look under the bed.
"Um..." John gave him a sidelong glance. "Rodney wanted to write down his thoughts before he forgot them."
"So you used his chart?!" Carson crossed his arms and scowled at him.
"It was all I could find," John said sheepishly. "And he was desperate."
Carson blew out a breath and shook his head. "Always the impatient one, our Rodney." He moved away for a moment, then returned bearing a large needle.
"What's that for?" John eyed the large needle with trepidation, reflexively tightening his grip on Rodney's shoulder.
"Antibiotics and painkillers," Carson explained. "His body chemistry is far from normal and I don't want to risk infection."
Grimacing guiltily, John had to turn away while Carson was administering the drugs.
Between the two of them, they managed to disengage Rodney's hand from John's shirt and shift him into a more comfortable position.
Rubbing his face wearily, John turned his attention toward the other bed, ignoring Ronon's silent glare as he focused on Teyla. She was awake and regarded him with kind eyes. "Rodney will be fine," she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
The regard he had for her rose yet another notch. Even in her own fragile, wasted state, she still expended her limited energy to make him feel better.
"How are you feeling?" John asked.
"How do you think she's feeling?" Ronon growled.
"Ronon," Teyla admonished softly. "It is not the colonel's fault. He is only trying to help."
"He didn't exactly help McKay," Ronon grumbled.
Teyla shared a look with John and rolled her eyes wearily.
John had to smile. "I'm sorry I haven't been by to see you much these last few days."
"It's okay. You're here now."
Sheppard nodded, settling in next to McKay, and then yawned spectacularly. At Teyla's soft giggle, he shrugged.
"Rodney's been running me ragged," he admitted, though he had no comment regarding the time he spent in the gym, ignoring both Rodney and Teyla.
"He is quite... energetic in this condition," Teyla said serenely.
John gave a short laugh. "That's an understatement."
Even Ronon snorted in agreement.
Teyla's reply was cut short by a harsh cough that made John wince in sympathy. He reached for the cup on the table by the bed, but Ronon beat him to it. It was odd, John thought, that the big angry grizzly that was Ronon Dex could turn into a gentle teddy bear when dealing with an aged Teyla or a toddler McKay. It was evident in his careful ministration to Teyla and his fierce protectiveness of Rodney. He never would have guessed that the brusque, hardened warrior could have a softer side. John nodded to himself, reassured that he had made a wise choice in adding the man to his team.
Teyla's coughing fit subsided and she leaned tiredly against her pillows, looking exhausted but not beaten. A defiance still glowed in those eyes, as she narrowed them in annoyance of her weakness. Then, with a quiet sigh, she closed her eyes and was asleep minutes later.
"I hate this," Ronon said suddenly. "I can't do anything to help them"
"Yeah," John agreed. There wasn't much more he could say, since he felt just as helpless, useless as Ronon was feeling. In most situations, there was at least something he could do, some action he could take. But not this time. John decided that it really sucked.
[{O}]
Carson returned an hour later, checking on the still-sleeping Rodney. John and Ronon moved closer to the bed as the doctor examined him.
Rodney was so still and quiet, a completely unnatural state for him. Especially lately.
"Is he okay?" John asked. "The bullet wound?"
"That will be fine," Carson replied. "It was just a graze. Only needed a bit of cleaning and a few stitches."
John gave him a relieved smile. "That's good."
"Why don't you get some sleep?" Carson suggested. He pointed at Ronon. "Both of you."
"If you don't mind, I'd like to stay a while longer," John said. "Just until the little guy wakes up."
Ronon didn't comment, but parked himself in the chair between Rodney and Teyla's beds.
Carson rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering, "...only a doctor, why should they listen to me?"
John pulled up his own chair and settled in for the duration.
[{O}]
A low groan roused John from his fitful sleep. He eased himself up from the uncomfortable sprawl into which his body had slipped, rotating his neck to work out the kinks. The groan sounded again. John stood and leaned over Rodney. "Rodney? You awake buddy?"
Rodney wrinkled his nose and moved his legs slightly.
"Wakey wakey," John said with a grin.
Rodney's response was to turn his head and vomit spectacularly on him.
"Gah!" John jumped away from the bed, plucking at his saturated shirt in an attempt to keep it away from his skin.
"What's all the commotion?" Carson said as he strode determinedly into the room. "You need to keep it down in here. They need their..." He paused, glancing from John to Rodney. "...rest."
Ronon sniggered at John's dilemma.
"Bloody hell," Carson said, heaving a much put-upon sigh.
"I think Rodney's feeling a bit... unwell," John remarked dryly, screwing up his nose as the smell
started to get to him.
"Go, get cleaned up." Carson shooed him toward the showers. "I'll take care of Rodney."
John took the suggestion and started toward the shower at the other end of the infirmary, glaring at Ronon who was still smirking in obvious enjoyment at his predicament. As he stripped out of his sodden clothes, he heard a loud "Aw crap!" followed by a deep guffaw. A smile creased his face when he realized that the good doctor had likely just suffered the same fate. There was justice in the world, after all.
[{O}]
A/N: Wait! Wait! I finished reading my reviews! She left me feedback! Sweet Julie! She's at a Stuckey's in West Virginia? or Wyoming! No problem, they're not far apart, right? Coyotes?! Julie! Your Kolya is coming! Guard your teats, my sweet! I will be there as quickly as the Winnebago will travel! Oh drat! Now you know about the surprise. Honest, my dumpling, it's the closest thing I could find to a Puddlejumper of our very own! BE STRONG! We will be together again!
A/N: Tipper, sorry about the vomit. I know you expressed displeasure in such things earlier in a review, but after your guys upchucked a couple times in the Ancient plants and Teyla barfed behind a console, I figured it was open season on puke. I did it for you. Oh wait! Julie! Gotta go!