part two
John carried Rodney down to the mess hall and procured him some Athosian meatballs that he figured would be safe for a cat to eat. Rodney was uncharacteristically silent throughout the meal, which worried John somewhat. He thought about asking Rodney if he was okay, but it seemed like a dumb question to ask under the circumstances.
What? Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face? Rodney sounded like his usual paranoid self and John relaxed a little.
"No, your sno- face is clean," John said, and after Rodney returned to his attack on the food, took another covert look. As a cat, Rodney was a gray-white tuxedo cat, with big, slightly lopsided ears, narrow snout, nervous eyes, and a slightly crooked tail, the tip of which was constantly twitching. John followed the wandering tail with his eyes and thought that they had been quite lucky not to run into anyone on the way down to the mess hall. John should have known that such luck wouldn't hold.
"Oh, what a cute kitty!"
John whipped around when he heard the high pitched squeal from the other side of the room. Two female scientists that John didn't know were standing just inside the doorway, staring at Rodney, and before John could do anything the two women practically ran over to the table.
"Where did you get him? Oh, he's just adorable!" the taller one cooed, and John wasn't sure whether to laugh or grab Rodney and run away.
Rodney hissed rather loudly and arched his back as the other woman reached out to touch him. Don't even THINK about it!
The woman jumped back with a yelp and clutched at her head. The other woman froze and stared at Rodney fearfully.
"Um, I don't think Doctor McKay is up for petting and cuddles right now, ladies..."
"Doctor McKay..." one of the women whispered. "That... what?"
It's a long story that involves me being very heroic and brave, of course, but I'd rather not go into it right now. Rodney settled down somewhat, or at least his fur stopped standing on end. Major, I think I'd like to leave before any more groupies show up. John picked up Rodney with one hand and the tray with the other, and after smiling at the goggle-eyed scientists, walked out, almost placing Rodney into the tray slot.
Don't think I didn't see that, Rodney said scathingly as they exited the mess hall.
John ignored him and headed for the infirmary. He needed a break, and Carson might just be the only other person on this base that Rodney would allow near him at this point. He hoped.
They managed to make it all the way down to the infirmary without running into anyone else, much to Rodney's relief. Carson looked up when they came into the room, and John could have sworn that the doctor's left eye twitched.
"I've got another patient for you," John said, setting Rodney down on the exam table. "Hopefully he'll be more cooperative than Ford."
Cooperative? When you start feeling the urge to cough up a furball, we'll see how cooperative YOU'LL feel at your next physical. Rodney glared up at John from the exam table and then turned his back on both him and Carson.
"I am still not exactly sure how I can help," Carson said to Rodney's back, his eyes fixed on the tip of Rodney's furiously twitching tail. "I am not quite a veterinarian..."
"Just make sure he's not about to keel over, Carson." John smiled encouragingly.
HEY! Rodney squeaked. You don't need to up my paranoia here.
Carson muttered, "As if that were possible."
Rodney narrowed his eyes and lifted a paw, ready to strike.
"All right, all right. Let's just check your vitals then." Carson said.
That's better. Rodney stretched himself out on the table and looked around curiously. Everything seems so huge, he mused when Carson pressed the stethoscope to his chest. And damn! This thing is still cold as hell! What do you do, Carson, keep it on ice between patients?
Carson withdrew the offending article out of the reach of Rodney's claws, and sighed. "I truly donnae know anything about cats, Rodney. Mice, yes, but I have no idea what a healthy cat's vitals are..."
Well, I'm sorry that I made you realize that you weren't the be-all and end-all of things medical, Carson. Really, I can't tell you how bad I feel about bursting your bubble on this one, Rodney snarked.
"Oh, don't get your tail in a twist, Rodney," John said with a pat to Rodney's head. "Don't we have a zoologist around here, Carson?"
Carson brightened considerably. "Yes - I believe Dr. Garcia did her undergraduate research on tigers. I'll be right back!"
John reached out to pet Rodney again, but Rodney laid back his ears and made a low growling noise. Do it and you lose the hand, flyboy.
"What? What'd I do?"
"Don't get your tail in a twist!" "Your condition is a bit interesting!" Rodney's tail smacked audibly against the exam table. Is my condition so very funny to you?
John coughed lightly. "Of course not, Rodney. It's just... different."
I am a fucking cat! Rodney got up and started to pace on the exam table. When I woke up this morning I was a human being. I was a guy. I didn't have fur, or a tail. I had opposable thumbs!
"Well, most of that's true, but I don't know about the fur part..."
Oh, you're one to talk, Rodney said grumpily.
"Look on the bright side, you have a tail now."
I think I hate you.
"We'll figure this out," John said, crouching so he was on eye level with Rodney. "And meanwhile, try to relax. I know it sounds stupid - but worrying is not going to help." After his motivational speech, John sat down next to Rodney and looked at him expectantly.
Rodney tried to continue being annoyed, but the offer was just too tempting after the day he'd had. He walked over to John and curled up on his lap. John looked down at Rodney, marveling at the pretzel-like position the latter managed to achieve, his hand reaching down almost automatically to stroke Rodney's fur. After a couple of minutes, Rodney tucked his nose into his folded paws and John felt a slight vibration under his hand.
"You're purring." John said, continuing his rhythmical petting.
Don't get used to it, Rodney said, yawning contentedly. This was good – he would fall asleep with John stroking his back, feeling warm and safe, and when he woke up, everything would be back to normal...
Unfortunately for Rodney, his day was fated to suck. Just when he was halfway into a catnap, Manuela Garcia bounded into the room followed by a slightly winded Carson, and poor Rodney was whisked off John's lap and prodded by the excitable zoologist, who after five minutes declared him to be a healthy, if slightly chubby, cat.
Who are you calling chubby? Rodney sounded somewhat offended.
"That whole telepathy thing is rather disconcerting, isn't it?" Doctor Garcia said, eyeing Rodney in such a way that it was pretty obvious she'd really like to be performing something more along the lines of autopsy on him.
"Well, we've got to go meet Elizabeth, don't we, Rodney?" John said, correctly surmising that he would be privy to yet another round of catfighting if he didn't get Rodney away from the too-curious zoologist. Manuela looked forlorn and was about to object, but John grabbed the pissed off Rodney and hurried out of the infirmary before she could say anything.
"Thanks for checking him out!" he called back over his shoulder, giving Rodney a light squeeze to stop him from saying anything else.
I never thought I'd actually be happy to attend a debriefing, Rodney muttered as John headed for Elizabeth's office.
"You're happy about the concept of explaining all of this to Elizabeth?"
Lesser of two evils, Rodney grouched. Garcia was eyeing me like I was something she'd like to fillet for dinner.
"Yeah, I noticed that too. You just have a way with the ladies, McKay."
Seriously, don't make me hurt you.
