This is dedicated to Melissa. My attempt at humour here doesn't do hers justice! Thanks to my betas, the lovely Merlin and scrupulously wonderful Kodiak, who had to remind me that Sheppard thinks in American not British! As usual all mistakes are my own...
"Remind me again why I had to come down here with you? It's not as if I don't have a hundred and one things to do. Things, I might add, which should have been completed yesterday! Why couldn't you have dragged Zelenka or Kavanagh down here? Ok, maybe not Kavanagh. That would just be – masochistic." McKay rambled incessantly in my ear just as he usually did.
I looked across at McKay and smiled. "Rodney, I thought it'd be nice to explore the depths of Atlantis together. You know, two best friends hanging out together." He smiled shyly and looked momentarily surprised, pride soon replacing that expression on his face. I smiled inwardly and continued, " With Teyla on the mainland, and Ronon incubating his first virus courtesy of Earth, and us having a little enforced downtime because of that, I was, well…" I paused, feeling a little sheepish at what I was about to admit, "Bored. Besides, I need your brain. As I've already explained, when I was last down here I found a door that wouldn't open. I haven't had a chance to come back until now, but my curiosity was piqued. I thought maybe you'd like to come and find out what's behind the door with me?"
McKay grinned his lop sided smile at me. "Well, yes of course. How stupid of me. As if Radek or Kavanagh could possibly help you with anything like that. You need my superior brain, naturally."
I raised my eyebrows, before repeating, "Naturally."
Rodney McKay was a complicated man, to put it mildly. With an ego the size of Mount Everest, it never ceased to amaze, how me simply complimenting him turned him from a whining, moaning whirlwind of verbal destruction, to a compliant, pleasant and nice person. Well, perhaps not nice. That is such a bland word, and bland was never a word you could use when thinking about McKay.
We had the most complicated and strange relationship, not that I've ever been someone who's had many close friends. My childhood had been one full of constant moving around, meaning I never stayed anywhere long enough to find anyone to be close to. Mitch and Dex had been my closest friends in the Air Force, but their untimely deaths had left me tired of forging any friendship that was likely to end in me drowning out my sorrows with a bottle of liquid comfort. It had been hell saying my farewells to their caskets, even more so because there hadn't been enough left of them to put inside. That was something I never wanted to have to repeat.
So, choosing to be best buddies with McKay perhaps hadn't been my wisest move. After all, we were in another galaxy, fighting monster, life-sucking vampires among other things, and imminent death was always lurking round the corner, as McKay regularly reminded me. Perhaps that's why I subconsciously chose him as my friend; knowing either of us could die at any given hour kind of put things in perspective.
As we walked along the corridor, I thought about how much of Atlantis remained relatively unexplored. Even though I had wandered these halls enough late at night, when I couldn't sleep, or was thinking, and needed the tiring monotony to help concentrate.
As we turned the corner, I yelped as a sharp pain in my abdomen took me by surprise. McKay immediately eyed me in concern.
"You okay?" he asked.
I grimaced, rubbing at the pain with my hand.
"Yeah. Must have pulled a muscle when I ran this morning. Sorry," I answered.
I noticed McKay watching me closely, and hoped my face wasn't giving away the pain I felt.
"You sure? You look a bit peakish. Maybe we should head back?" McKay asked in his best 'I'm concerned because I'm your best friend' voice.
Instantly I relaxed my face, and smiled.
"No, it's fine. I'm not feeling like I could run a marathon or anything, but I'm okay, really. Must have overdone it this morning, that's all, probably pulled a groin muscle," I reassured him.
McKay snorted. "With all the space bimbo's you've had, it's probably something that Carson should be treating with anti-biotics, I think."
I gave him my best, 'I'm wounded' look, before he shrugged and continued, "Fine. Just don't go collapsing on me, or anything. I don't think my back could take the pressure of returning you to civilisation again."
I grinned again. "Don't worry. In case you haven't noticed, I don't faint."
"Oh, that's nice. Mock the hypoglycaemic man." McKay turned to face me and instantly gave up the battle, chuckling, "Okay, maybe I fainted – once. Though I prefer to say 'passed out'. It just sounds more… manly, if you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean." I clasped McKay on the shoulder affectionately, before continuing, "Come on, let's go find that door before you die from manly hunger. Wouldn't want you to miss lunch now, would we?"
-oOo-
Half an hour later, I could tell by the way McKay was staring, that he was getting concerned. I guess he'd noticed me wincing from time to time, and hissing in pain as the fire in my abdomen made me pay more attention to what was happening in my guts.
"You sure you're ok?" he finally asked.
I swallowed, before answering, "Ah, that pulled muscle or whatever it is, its being a pain - literally. When we get back, I'll get Beckett to look at it." I gestured at McKay to keep walking, before suddenly stopping and grasping the right side of my stomach, doubling over as the pain intensified. "Crap, I must really have pulled something!" I managed to get out.
McKay looked back at me in even more concern. "Okay, I don't like this. Let's head back. The door can wait."
"No, I'm fine. Really. We're nearly there now. It'd be a shame to waste our time after coming all this way. We just won't stay long," I replied. If we'd turned back then, it would have been a waste of time. We were almost there and I didn't want to admit defeat. It was probably breakfast, or something else equally benign and stupid, anyway.
We continued to walk until I pointed to a large ornate door, tucked away at the end of the hallway we were currently in.
McKay whistled in appreciation. "Wow! That's some door. Wonder what's behind it?" he mused. He quickly retrieved his LSD from his vest pocket and began to take readings.
"Damn," he swore, "It must be shielded. I'm not reading anything. That's strange. You said you couldn't get it open?" I nodded in affirmation. "Mmmn, very strange." He studied the control panel at the side of the door, and on failing to open it by passing his hand over the sensor, Rodney proceeded to take the control panel to pieces, as I stood next to him, watching intently.
After taking out a tool kit from his backpack, he re-arranged various crystals and circuits, before letting out a satisfied grunt, and stood back.
"Okay. I think that should do it. Would you like to do the honours?" he asked me.
I grinned excitedly, and nodded. "Sure. Here goes nothing!" Sometimes McKay really brought out the big kid in me.
As I ran my hand in front of the sensor, the door slowly slid open. It was pitch black, and I shone the flashlight from my P90 ahead into the darkness. Inside, there appeared to be another corridor, with doors littered along it. I slowly moved forward followed by McKay. Once clear of the door, it slid quickly shut, with an ominous bang.
McKay huffed. "Great! It's really dark in here. Hang on." He got out his flashlight and pointed it at the closed door. "I'll see if I can leave the door open, so we can see better," he called back as he searched for the control panel.
"Ah, we might have a little problem," he began.
I looked back at McKay, and groaned. "What?"
"There's no control mechanism on this side of the door," McKay nervously replied.
"Okay. So we find another way out. Let's go." I pointed my P90 ahead of me and started to cautiously walk forward, feeling a little worse for wear. I was starting to wonder if I had somehow mysteriously contracted a nasty case of cosmic clap that Carson had carelessly missed. I heard McKay lagging behind me, cursing softly to himself.
We'd only walked a few feet, when I had to suddenly stop and lean against the left wall of the passageway, my right hand clutching furiously at my abdomen again as agony coursed down in to my groin, up into my gut and into my back. This time I couldn't help but let out a moan as I started to double over.
McKay ran to catch up with me, and gently touched my arm.
"Hey. You ok?" he asked in concern.
Grimacing, I answered through clenched teeth, "Actually- no. I don't feel so good'"
McKay shone his own flashlight on my face and I heard him exhale in surprise at what the light revealed. "Jesus, Sheppard. You look awful! You're sweating like a pig and look as flushed as Radek does when he's talking to Elizabeth," he exclaimed. I felt him gently press the back of his hand to my forehead, and heard him gasp at what he obviously felt there.
"You have a fever! Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he demanded in an irritated voice.
"I didn't know I was sick. Just thought I'd overdone it this morning," I answered honestly. I really hadn't thought this was anything other than a pulled muscle, though, if I were honest, I had felt a little under the weather when I went for my early morning run, and maybe I'd felt a bit off the night before as well.
Suddenly, I felt myself engulfed in another surge of pain, and this time I collapsed to my knees, gasping, while still clutching at my right side, barely managing to plant my left palm on the floor, before rolling onto my side. I curled up in a foetal position and writhed on the floor, just about managing to gasp out a pathetic, "Crap."
McKay dropped to his knees, and while he was trying to straighten me out, I heard him asking me what was hurting now. Being me, however, I refused to be moved and just moaned louder.
"Okay, this isn't funny anymore. And this isn't a pulled muscle, or a groin strain. Though I'm keeping an open mind about the alien STD. You haven't given yourself a hernia, have you?" McKay asked impatiently, before adding, "Or you could have a torsion somewhere nasty."
I didn't answer straight away, and just managed to groan through shallow breaths, desperately trying to somehow control the pain.
On hearing no reply, McKay again tried to get me to uncurl from my protective position. Concern filled his features when, as he pulled my legs straight, I screamed in a less than manly fashion, before yanking them back again.
"Shit, what the hell is wrong with you?" McKay barked at me as I writhed on the floor.
This time, I did manage to answer. "Don't know. Hurts like hell, though," I ground out.
As McKay watched me, I suddenly opened my eyes wide, in panic, and I knew he understood immediately what was wrong.
"Okay, let's sit you up," he gently soothed, getting behind me and quickly pulling me upright.
Just as he got me sitting, I gulped and managed to whisper, "Sick…" before lurching over to his left side and throwing up all over the floor – and the left sleeve of his jacket, splattering his hand with re-gurgitated raisin oatmeal. Though it looked pretty similar on the way up as it had when it went down, it certainly didn't smell the same.
"Sheppard!" McKay yelped in disgust, "That is totally gross. Argh, what on Earth did you have for breakfast this morning?" he demanded in disgust.
As I continued to heave, McKay obviously began to feel guilty for his little outburst, as I felt him start to rub small circles in my back, trying to soothe me. After a few minutes, I slumped back into his lap, groaning.
I felt McKay wriggle away, as he slowly lowered me back on to the floor, moving me onto my left side, away from the mess on the floor. He quickly stripped off his vest and dirty jacket, wiping his hand on the fabric before throwing the jacket on the vomit I'd so delicately adorned the floor with.
McKay grimaced. "You've ruined my favourite jacket," he whined, before taking out a flask of water and kneeling down to offer it to me. I managed to lift my head, reaching with my right hand to take the flask. I gingerly took a sip from it, before turning my head and spitting the contents from my mouth. I then took another small sip, before collapsing back on to the ground. McKay immediately retrieved the water flask, and put it away in his backpack.
McKay looked down at me as I panted pathetically on the floor, watching as I returned my right hand to the same side of my abdomen as before, again clutching it in pain.
I looked up at McKay, and figuring I owed him a massive apology, whispered, "Sorry," before groaning again.
"Think, McKay. What's wrong with him," I heard McKay muttering to himself. "Okay, pain in right lower abdomen, fever, vomiting…" He stopped suddenly, as the realisation of what was ailing me hit him. "Oh God! Appendix. Why didn't I think of it earlier?" He tapped my face a little harder than was necessary, and I opened irritated eyes to look back up at him. "Sheppard, I think your appendix is making itself known. You had any trouble with it before?" he asked.
I shook my head slowly, before answering falteringly, "That would be a no. Never." I'd never had anything, not even a twinge, from that redundant organ before, but figured appendicitis sounded better than some of the other things McKay had been hypothesising about.
"Right. This is not good. Okay there's a test I can do. Read about it once when I thought I might have had appendicitis. As usual everyone thought I was being a hypochondriac, so I did some investigating myself." McKay paused in thought.
Hypochondriac? McKay? Surely not, I thought. Suddenly I wondered if he had had appendicitis. "Did you?" I asked curiously.
"Did I what?" McKay absent-mindedly muttered.
"Have appendicitis?" I explained.
McKay looked embarrassed. "Well, actually – no. That wasn't the point though. I could have had it. Okay, I need you to lie flat on your back with your legs out straight. I know it's going to hurt, but I'm going to have to press on the right side of your abdomen. It'll be over quickly, I promise."
He then proceeded to do just what he had told me he was going to. It proved harder than I thought for me to keep my legs stretched out; my natural instinct being to keep curled up in a protective ball. Slowly, and painfully, I had managed to unfurl, and that simple act had left me panting shallowly, prostrate on the floor. McKay lifted my shirt, undid the belt on my pants, pulling down the fabric until he exposed my lower abdomen. If I hadn't felt so bad, I would have cracked a totally inappropriate joke, just to see his reaction. However, lying in agony, trying not to projectile vomit even more oatmeal everywhere, sort of curtailed that.
"Right. If this is appendicitis, this is going to hurt like hell. So I'll apologise in advance," McKay muttered.
It was all I could do to grind out a reply. "Just get on with it," I panted impatiently.
I saw McKay study my exposed flesh, before tentatively placing both hands on it. He then pressed down, grimacing, and quickly pulled his hands away. Immediately I screamed and yanked my legs back up as I curled into myself in agony. Christ, that had really hurt.
"Please don't do that again," I moaned pitifully at McKay.
"God, I'm sorry. I won't, I swear," he gruffly replied.
I looked up at McKay, before tiredly smiling. "Guess it's my appendix, then?"
"Yeah, looks like it. Sometimes being a genius has its advantages, you know."
"You mean being a hypochondriac…ow!" My attempt at humour was cut short as another wave of pain hit me.
McKay suddenly stood, and started to pace.
"Okay, obviously we need to get you to Carson. And…obviously you can't move. We're stuck behind a door, in an unexplored part of Atlantis, and don't know how to get out." I saw him look down at his watch. "Right, Elizabeth asked us to check in at 1300 hours, that's half an hour away. So… we sit here and wait, and she'll send a search party for us. She does know exactly where we were headed, right?" McKay nervously questioned me.
Suddenly I felt a wave of embarrassment hit me, and I managed to reply, through shallow breaths, "Uh…not exactly."
As I looked up at McKay through slitted, pained eyes I knew only too well what was coming next.
"You WHAT?" McKay was on a roll now. "You mean to tell me you told her we would be exploring down here, but you didn't tell her exactly where we'd be?" he asked me incredulously.
"She didn't ask. I did point to the City map on the display, and show her roughly where we'd be going," I gingerly answered.
McKay groaned. "We are in so much trouble! What the hell do I do now? I can't leave you, you can't move. This area is shielded, so our radios won't work. Not that I've tried." With that, he tapped the radio, calling into it. As we both suspected, there was no reply. "Shit. This is all your fault!" he accused.
I knew it wouldn't be long until he started to apportion blame. In all fairness this whole fiasco was my fault. I should have been much more specific in where we were exploring, and I should have delayed our jaunt until I was feeling one hundred percent. I also should have heeded McKay's words and headed back when I first felt the pain hit. What can I say? When have I ever done the sensible thing?
I watched as he paced, hands flying around in all directions as the whirlwind gathered momentum. Another wave of agony unexpectedly hit me, and this time I cried out, gagging as the rest of my breakfast put in an appearance. McKay groaned and ran over to me, moving me away from the putrid mess I'd again deposited on the floor.
"God, you're a disaster!" he said, as he rummaged in his rucksack, and proceeded to sponge my face with one of his treasured wet wipes. I'd never before realised that I held such an important place in his heart. That he'd sacrifice one of his trusty wipes to clean my face, well, that's true friendship for you.
He looked down at me, holding his water flask out to me. "Want to rinse again?" he asked. I took the flask, rinsed and spat for the second time that day, and wondered who I'd pissed off above to deserve this crap.
I began to feel drowsy and figured why fight to stay awake, when staying awake hurt so damn much. I closed my eyes as the sweet pain free darkness beckoned and enveloped me.
-oOo-
I woke up to find myself alone, huddled in a ball on the cold floor. My jacket and vest had been removed while I was asleep, the former now being used as a pillow under my head. I tried to focus my eyes in the dark corridor, but as hard as I tried, couldn't see McKay anywhere. I attempted to sit up, but as the pain in my gut reminded me why I was down, I gave up and stayed down.
"McKay!" I called as loudly as I could. I waited a few seconds, and when I didn't hear a reply, called again, over-exerting myself, and making the pain reach an intolerable level again. Groaning, I whined, "McKay, where the hell are you?"
My last outburst must have got his attention, and I heard the sound of footsteps reverberating down the corridor.
"You're awake. How're you feeling?" he asked breathlessly.
I grimaced. "Like shit. Where were you?" I felt a little hurt he'd left me all alone and suffering in the dark.
"Getting us out of here, actually. This place is amazing!" he enthused. "There are labs, living quarters. It's quite exciting, really. Oh, and I found a transporter that will get us out of here," he garbled at me. "Can't get communications working, but I've nearly restored power to the transporter. You think you can move, if I help you?" he tentatively asked.
I laughed half-heartedly, "Sure. Why not?"
He helped me to stand. Well stand is perhaps a slight exaggeration. Stagger, like a ninety-year-old man with chronic arthritis, would have been a more accurate description. But, hey, I walked, and that's what counted. He deposited me by the transporter and carried on working while I just groaned and gagged from the queasiness, feeling thoroughly sorry for myself.
Half an hour later, though it felt more like six hours to me, and Rodney had it ready. I somehow managed to limp into the transporter, though I don't really remember if McKay dragged me or I co-operated, as I wasn't entirely lucid by that point.
I remember feeling the vertigo caused by the transporter activating, McKay screaming in to his radio, the sound of echoing footsteps, and the familiar lilt of Scottish brogue, swearing, before everything went black –again.
-oOo-
I woke up feeling as though I'd downed some of Halling's magic mushrooms. Well, they weren't mushrooms per se, but they looked like the same, and if ingested, had the same hallucination inducing effects.
I wearily opened my eyes, frantically trying to figure out what had been reality, and what had been hallucination. My memories were hazy, my head being full of strange images. I saw flashes of people's faces. McKay looking terrified. Elizabeth – crying? Since when did Elizabeth cry? Even when we lost Peter, I'd never once seen her cry. I saw Teyla quietly singing and meditating. Ronon standing there, looking thoroughly pissed off. And finally – Beckett. Frowning, talking quietly to me. Looking upset, tired and frustrated.
What the hell had happened to me?
"Ah, Colonel. You've finally decided to join us. Feeling a little more lucid now, are we?"
I saw Beckett, standing above me, smiling broadly.
I must have stared up at him blankly, as he patted me on the shoulder, and smiled sympathetically at me. "Well, I'm afraid to tell you that you're not quite the man you used to be."
Immediately I thought again about those hazy memories, or dreams, whatever they were. I remembered McKay hypothesising about my condition, and instantly the word strangulated and torsion, came to mind. In a blind panic, I rapidly snaked my hand under the sheets, and sought out my two life-long buddies. I breathed a sigh of relief to discover they were both present and correct, though how they hadn't retracted into the back of my throat, nestling safely behind my tonsils, was beyond me.
"They're still there," I drunkenly muttered, which must've amused Beckett as he chuckled, and as I looked up at him through blurry eyes saw he was stifling a laugh.
"Good God, man! I removed your appendix, nothing else," he ground out between gasps of hysteria. "What on Earth did Rodney tell you was wrong with you?" he finally managed to ask without choking down laughter.
I felt too sick to be embarrassed and just quietly replied, "Appendicitis…he told me I had appendicitis. I remember now. Though he did originally think I might have strangulated something or other…"
Beckett snorted. "Ah, that's explains your confusion, son."
Suddenly he looked at me seriously, and for the first time I noticed how tired and pale he looked.
"By the time we got you onto the operating table your appendix had had enough and just as I was removing it, it burst. Despite my best attempts to remove any…material left from the rupture…" Beckett looked wistfully at me for a moment, and I noticed a look of regret on his weary face. He cleared his throat before continuing, "You, unfortunately developed peritonitis. You were seriously ill for a couple of days, though I'm pleased to say you're out of the woods now." He stopped and ran a hand through his hair.
I didn't know what to say to him. I could tell I'd unintentionally put him through the wringer, and even in my drugged stupor felt the sudden urge to apologise.
"Sorry," was all I could come up with. Such an under-whelming word, but good enough considering the condition I was in.
Beckett cleared his throat, and smiled down at me again. "Bloody hell, lad. No need to apologise. Though I do think you've taken a few years off my life – again. Well, enough of this maudlin talk. Do you have any pain?"
I looked up at him, and I could see the guilt still written in his face. Beckett blamed himself for not getting me into surgery fast enough, but if this mess was anybody's fault – it was mine, for not explaining exactly where McKay and I were going, for exploring when I knew I was a little off, and finally for not heading back when I should have done. Still. I'd learned my lesson, and I never wanted to experiencea repeat performance of this little fiasco.
"I'm good," I answered honestly.
He smiled again. "Right. I'll leave you to get some rest. And before you ask, no, you can't have the catheter taken out yet. Your kidneys have been mis-behaving, and I need to monitor your urine output very closely," he explained.
I honestly hadn't noticed the catheter, in my panic to make sure I wouldn't be singing an octave higher. So I simply nodded, just wanting to go back to sleep.
-oOo-
The next time I woke up, McKay was dozing in a chair by my bed. I looked at him, wondering if I should wake sleeping beauty up. I decided I would, and managed a weak, "Hey."
He immediately sat up straight and rewarded me with a relieved smile.
"Finally! I was beginning to think you'd suffered brain damage. I know Carson's pretty good with the old voodoo, but I wouldn't put it past him to miss something vital," he began. "Which reminds me, I must ask him if he checked you for any nasty surprises left behind by your numerous conquests."
I smiled indulgently at him. "Despite popular belief, I haven't done anything to catch any nasty diseases from anybody."
McKay snorted. "Could have fooled me. What about Chaya? She'd been around for thousands of years, God knows what she might have picked up over the millennia!" he exclaimed.
"Are you never going to let that go?" I asked, exasperated. "Nothing happened between us. Nothing. Zilch. Zero. Well… other than the glowy sharing thingy," I corrected myself. "But there were no bodily fluids involved in that. Well, not that I remember, anyway."
"Hah! As if I believe you," he retorted.
"Just wishful thinking on your part, Rodney" I mumbled.
He cleared his throat. "So, are you feeling more lucid now? You certainly were mumbling some strange things in your delirium," he questioned me.
"Actually, everything's a little hazy. Though I do remember dreaming I was at dinner and Carson was waiting on me, and he asked if I wanted a nice slice of mission with a bit of pain on the side. That was sort of weird," I confessed, surprised at my admission.
McKay laughed. "Well, you certainly got that, didn't you?"
"Suppose I did," I answered honestly. "Thanks, by the way. You put up with a lot from me, you know…me puking all over you and everything. So…thanks for taking care of me and getting me out of there," I said to him, feeling genuine gratitude.
"You're the only best friend I've ever had, so I sort of have an investment in you, if you know what I mean," he quietly replied, emotion thick in his voice. "Besides, I take I.O.U's." He smiled crookedly at me.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," I answered. "But just so we're clear, I'd rather not be thrown up on when the time comes for you to collect."
"Can't say I blame you. You have no idea how unpleasant it was for me. I'm not good with unwanted bodily fluids, and, God, did you have plenty to share. Have you seen that scene from Scary Movie, where the woman throws up endless amounts of vomit?"
I nodded.
"Well it was just like that. Except yours wasn't purple,or was it green in the movie?Not that it matters…"
As Rodney babbled away, I closed my eyes, enjoying the monotonous whine of his voice. As I headed towards sleep, I thought how odd it was that I found such comfort from my friendship with McKay. I hoped he somehow found my friendship equally as comforting.
Though I'd only known him a relatively short time, I'd seen pretty quickly that beneath all that snark and ego, lurked a good person, who'd lay his life on the line for me without hesitation, exactly as I'd do for him. I'd learnt that best friends were hard to come by for both of us, and knew neither one of us intended to have to look for a new one anytime soon.
Finis.