PRIVATE MEMO
TO: Col. John Sheppard
FROM: Dr. Rodney McKay
RE: Sorry
I'm sorry that I wasn't able to be more help during your infection. Guess I let you down again, huh?
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PRIVATE MEMO
TO: Dr. Rodney McKay
FROM: Col. John Sheppard
RE: Sorry
Nothing to be sorry about, Rodney! Your eloquent observations on the usefulness of medicine aside, you're not a doctor! What did you think you should have done?
By the way, I'm getting seriously bored in here. Carson won't even let me get caught up on my mission reports. He's worried about stress causing a relapse. Doesn't he realize that this is causing me even more stress?
I don't suppose you'd be willing to help me bust out of here, would you?
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PRIVATE MEMO
TO: Col. John Sheppard
FROM: Dr. Rodney McKay
RE: Sorry
Sorry again. But if I help you escape from the infirmary, I'm setting myself up for some serious Scottish revenge, and I don't think that would be good for my health. I might be able to help you smuggle something into the infirmary, though.
Now, as to what I should have been able to do. At the very least, I should have been able to figure out a better way of grabbing those bug eggs.
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PRIVATE MEMO
TO: Dr. Rodney McKay
FROM: Col. John Sheppard
RE: Infirmary contraband
Well, the surfboard's probably out. How about the guitar, though? And some of Zelenka's rotgut.
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PRIVATE MEMO
TO: Col. John Sheppard
FROM: Dr. Rodney McKay
RE: Infirmary contraband
You're kidding, right? You don't think Carson'll notice me sneaking in with a large stringed object? And your ass is grass if he catches you with alcohol. (Mine, too, come to think of it.)