A/N: Okay, I know, it's been months since my last update, I apologize profusely! I've had writer's block big time, and of course, OF COURSE an idea hits me now! I had graduation, my dad's birthday, and mother's day this weekend, right before finals week, and I have to take the GRE next weekend, so naturally, inspiration hits now…literally. I was cleaning the bathroom when I was thinking about this, and I was getting so excited about it that I started rushing through it so I could sit down and write, and I knocked a bottle of shaving cream onto my toe. But I don't care if my toe is broken, because I now have the next three chapters planned! Go me!
This part takes place during Grace Under Pressure, and I'm kind of playing with the timeline a little, so maybe you could call it AU, I don't know. It will definitely be AU after I get through Inferno, because I plan on pretending Allies never happened. Obviously, it's going to have to go AU from there, but until then I'm trying to stick to canon as best I can. ;)
oOo
The next month or so passed pretty uneventfully…Well, as uneventful as things get on Atlantis. There was that minor incident in which McKay had accidentally set Zelenka's hair on fire. At least, Rodney swore it was an accident. Apparently Radek had been standing too close to one of the circuit panels while he and Rodney were running diagnostics, and one of them overloaded in a bright shower of sparks, resulting in flames, arm waving on a grand scale, and a lot of odd-sounding curses that spewed forth from Zelenka like a man possessed. When it was all over, Rodney was left with a slightly singed and VERY pissed-off second in command.
A week later, McKay's notes on Atlantean superstring theory "mysteriously" vanished from his computer. Zelenka didn't even bother to hide his toothy grin when Rodney ranted about the weeks of work he'd lost. The way Rodney described it, you would have thought he was conveying a Shakespearean tragedy of epic proportions.
Rodney had related the whole fiasco to me over lunch in the mess. I was eating my usual pickles, this time with ketchup, which McKay had said was only slightly less repulsive than the chocolate sauce from the day before. At the time, I had tuned him out as he updated me on the latest dastardly exploits of Zelenka's villainy and took the opportunity to reflect on the odd friendship that seemed to have sprung up between us.
I had been put on light duty for "medical reasons" so we frequently bumped into each other around the city. At first, I think we each had to make a conscious effort to strike up a conversation, but later it seemed to come naturally. Rodney had eventually stopped looking at me like I was either going to read his mind or blow him up, but the oddest part was that no matter where or when we met up, Rodney always happened to have some baby name book or advice book on parenting that he would whip out as soon as we were alone. It was humorous and endearing enough for me to put up with him reading me passages from the books (which he had dog eared and highlighted!), critiquing the authors of each book, and describing the act of birth in all its horrifying glory. I never asked him where he was getting the books, but I had a pretty good idea. I had received a copy of Pregnancy for Dummies, followed by What to Expect When You're Expecting, which had been edited by a thick black marker to read What to Expecting When You're Expecting The Unexpected, AKA Pregnancy in Pegasus. The note on the inside flap of each read, "From Uncle John."
Carson and Sheppard had both been very supportive of the whole thing, and were keeping the baby a secret, as I had requested. It's not that I didn't trust the rest of Atlantis, but I just wasn't ready to tell anyone else. I knew it was only a matter of time before I started to show, and then it would be nothing but whispered conversations that quickly shushed as I walked into a room, and I wanted to put that off for as long as I could. Sheppard had quietly taken me off of the rotation list, and if Dr. Weir gave me strange looks as I put pickles in my chili, at least she never said anything about it.
Carson had been caring and loyal, as always, and I was never happier for it than I was now, as I sat across from him in the mess, pushing my macaroni and pickles around my plate. Although I was glad he was there for me when I needed him, a small part of me wished Rodney was here instead, tossing out potential baby names like Marie and Albert while I countered with Nevaeh and Geraldo. But McKay wasn't here. Instead, he was currently several thousand feet below the ocean, trapped in a malfunctioning Jumper, and that thought alone was enough to make me shove my tray away in disgust, all pretense of eating gone.
Carson looked at me sympathetically and squeezed my hand. "Don't worry, love. Sheppard and Zelenka will find him. I'm sure they're working out a plan as we speak."
I refrained from pointing out that that didn't make me feel any better. In fact, I was fairly certain that the only reason Rodney had agreed to test fly the Jumper was out of some residual guilt from the Fuzzy-haired Inferno Incident. "I know," I replied sullenly, putting my face in my hands and stubbornly refusing to picture Rodney stuck in that Jumper, surrounded by miles of icy sea water. I had been inside McKay's head, and I remember the brief lurch of his stomach every time he stepped into a transporter, and that was only for a few seconds. I didn't want to think about what being trapped inside that Jumper was doing to him. I didn't want to imagine him eyeing the walls as they closed in, heart pounding, struggling to breathe, beating the walls in panic…
"Damn it, McKay!" I slammed my fist down hard on the table, making Carson jump and drawing wary glances from more than a few of the people around me. "I should be down there with him! He's probably going nuts, and Griffin doesn't know how to handle him like I do!"
Carson furrowed his brow, gazing at my stomach then my face with a mixture of sympathy and confusion. "You don't mean that, lass."
"No, I suppose not," I conceded, closing my eyes in frustration as I unconsciously rubbed my belly. "I just feel so useless! I feel like I should be doing something, not sitting around making goo goo eyes at my boyfriend."
There was no mistaking the flash of hurt in Carson's eyes and voice. "I hardly think that's what you're doing here, Laura."
My temper instantly melted away. "God, Carson, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out like that, I just feel—"
"Helpless," he finished for me. "I know," he added, giving my hand another warm squeeze.
I tried to return his tender smile, but only managed an exhausted grimace. "I think I'm going to head back to my quarters, maybe lie down for a while. And I'm sure you need to get back to the medical wing, you'll probably have your work cut out for you when McKay and Griffin get back."
"Aye," Carson nodded, "Rodney always wreaks havoc on my infirmary." His attempt at light-heartedness falls flat as we both consider that Rodney might not be coming back from this one. I see in his face the moment he shoves that thought aside, and I do the same.
We exchanged tight lipped smiles, and he brushed a light kiss to my cheek before heading off. I held on to his hand for an extra second of contact before I released my hold, then paused for only a moment before calling out, "Hey, Beckett!" He turned, and I let a real smile grace my lips. "Thanks." He smiles back, then the mess hall doors close behind him.
Suddenly very tired, I headed towards my quarters, dragging my feet the whole way. I considered taking a detour to check on Sheppard's progress, then decided against it. Any important progress and Sheppard would let me know. Just to be sure, I tapped my headset as I entered my quarters, hearing the familiar buzz of static. Yep, still working Laura, just like the last 12 times you checked.
I flopped down on my bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. Unbidden, images of Rodney's panic-stricken face surrounded by freezing water spring into my mind. Cursing under my breath, I looked around the room for something to distract me. I spied the baby names book that Rodney had left with me after our last lunch session, and smiled as I tentatively fingered the cover. Impulsively, I picked it up and flipped through the dog eared pages, past the highlighted names with various stars and notes scribbled in the margins. It would figure that McKay had a rating system for the names he liked. Rolling my eyes but unable to stop the corner of my mouth from quirking upwards, I finally found the page I was looking for. There was a big black X through the name, and I tried not to take it as a sign. Out in the margin I see the note "NO! NO! NO!" written in McKay's chicken scratch that some might call handwriting. I read the name silently to myself.
Rodney (boy)
Source: Old English
Meaning: Island in the sea
I stopped contemplating why a man as arrogant as McKay would refuse to have his child named after him and chose instead to read the name's meaning again. Fitting. If ever there was a man who tried to make himself an island, it was Rodney McKay. All bluster and harsh condescension, designed to keep people away. But as they say, no man is an island, and the universe seems to have a penchant for Karmically kicking McKay's ass. It conspired to assault Rodney from all sides with people determined to put up with him, and as a result he failed miserably in his endeavor to remain the lone island towering above the sea of idiots. I doubt he minds that particular failure, though.
I slammed the book shut in a flash of anger. McKay was so in a giant mountain of trouble when he got home. Like his ability to attract trouble from all points of the universe simultaneously wasn't bad enough, but now he had to go and drag me into it, and he'd probably passed that particular gene to his offspring as well, right along with that ATA mouse-gene he was so proud of. Well damn McKay and his Karmic genes, damn his stupid ability to worm his way into my life despite both our best efforts, and especially damn him for being such a soft-hearted, insecure, attention-starved hypochondriac instead of the haughty bastard everyone thought he was, because now I was just making myself sick with worrying about him.
I clutched the book to my chest as I lay down on my bed. Giving in to the pull of fatigue, I allowed my eyes to flutter closed momentarily. I only meant to rest for a brief minute, but I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Colonel Sheppard's voice was buzzing in my ear through the radio. "Cadman, come in. Lt. Cadman, you there?"
Snapping awake instantly, I tapped my headset with shaking fingers. "I copy, Colonel. Any news?" I think I did a pretty convincing job of keeping my voice level, even if my insides were squirming.
"Zelenka and I are heading out in Jumper 3 right now. Just thought you might want to wish us luck on our rescue mission," he says it with his usual carefree smirk in his voice, but I can hear the edge there as well.
Okay, how long was I out? With a quick glance to the clock, I figured I must have been asleep for at least two hours! Absently, I said into my radio, "Good luck, sir." I feel a sudden moment of irrational panic, and call out, "Colonel!" Unsure of what exactly I was planning to say, I swallow past the unexpected lump in my throat and manage to whisper, "Bring him home safe."
There is only a momentary pause from his end. "I will." He said with finality, and I could almost hear the determined nod that punctuated his words. "Sheppard out."
There was a click as our connection ended, and I reached for my headset, but couldn't bring myself to take it off. Instead, I tap the radio to open a new connection. I really need a good distraction while I wait for Sheppard to return home with McKay in tow, and I know just the person to keep my mind occupied. "Carson," I call into the headset, "Are you busy?"
oOo
Less than an hour later, I stood anxiously in the Jumper Bay as the back hatch to Jumper 3 opened far too slowly for my liking. I'd have to talk to McKay about rigging the hatches to open faster in the event of an emergency, such as, for example, a hormonally imbalanced and armed pregnant woman waiting impatiently for the idiot father of her child to come home safely, so she can kill him with her own two hands! Hypothetically speaking, of course…
The jumper hatch finally, FINALLY, banged against the floor of the Jumper Bay and I somehow managed to make it into the Jumper before Carson's team even began moving. McKay was standing there, leaning against Sheppard for support, and I surprised them both when I flung my arms around Rodney in an enthusiastic hug, burying my face in his cold, wet chest. Rodney was so shocked, in fact, that he just stood there like the big, freezing, soggy lump that he was. Before he could really react, I released him and promptly punched him in the arm. Hard. "Don't you ever do that to me again! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" I steadfastly ignored the looks I was getting from Carson, Sheppard, Zelenka, and Dr. Weir, all showing different levels of shock and amusement. Okay, so maybe I sounded a little like a nagging wife scolding her husband after a night of binge drinking with his buddies, but I certainly wasn't going to let Rodney expect me put up with his tendency to be a danger-magnet on a regular basis. And, just to make sure he got it, I smacked him again.
"Ow," he muttered lethargically, rubbing his arm. Turning hopeful blue eyes to Sheppard, he said, "Please tell me I'm still hallucinating." Sheppard just smiled and guided Rodney toward the waiting gurney. As they started to cart him off in the direction of the infirmary, he reached out his hand to clasp mine with icy fingers. "Hey, Cadman?" he said, his voice softening as he fought unconsciousness, "If we have a girl, let's name her Sam."
His hand released mine as he drifted off, and this time it was my turn to stand there like a shocked lump. After a long moment, I snapped my jaw shut with a crack and hazarded a glance at the people around me. Carson cast a panicked glance over his shoulder as he followed the delirious and barely conscious McKay. Sheppard was trying very hard to pass off his amused chuckles and snorts as a coughing fit, and failing spectacularly. Zelenka looked like his brain had broken, and Dr. Weir was staring at me with pursed lips and the raised Eyebrow of Doom.
Clearing my throat, I stammered, "So, ah, I've uhm…I've got some news…"
oOo
A/N: Reviews will magically make my toe stop throbbing and give me the ability to type faster, thus update sooner:)
