Slight spoilers for Conversion. Rodney! Watch your mouth!

Worry About You – Rodney

Why? Why does he do that? Puts himself in harm's way, and then expects people to leave him stranded on some God-forsaken planet. I don't get it! It's not that I would ever feel the need to sacrifice myself for others, but Sheppard's propensity to do so is really getting on my nerves.

I look down for the hundreth time at the artifact I'm holding. This is useless. Every time I look at it, the colonel enters my thoughts, and I instantly forget why I'm looking at the damned thing. I shift uncomfortably on my stool. Another team found this in a very interesting part of the city. Amazingly enough, it remained untouched all these centuries –

Where the hell does he get off bringing Elizabeth into certain danger? I can't believe what happened. Oh, I've heard a few rumors floating around, and I'm sure I'll get the whole story tomorrow. I knew there would be some rough negotiations, but not that rough! Of course, Sheppard and that overgrown muscle had to bring it all to a close with an old-fashioned brawl. I wasn't there because I was doing more important things in the ruins near the gate. I just happened to look up and see Elizabeth and Teyla running pell-mell towards the gate. But I can only imagine that if that was a saloon in the old west, there would be people being thrown through windows and the swinging doors.

I chuckle to myself. I see Ronon the Barbarian being thrown behind the bar, smashing all the rot-gut whiskey, in my mind's eye. I have got to stop watching those old movies.

According to the rumors, Sheppard, the ape-man, and the locals beat the crap out of each other. Big surprise. I'm sure Sheppard was rewarded with some cracked or bruised ribs. Well, if he'd eat more, maybe that wouldn't happen so often. Actually, he hasn't been the same since he turned into a bug and back again. Hmmm. Yes.

Where was I?

Oh, yes.

Ronon and Sheppard. Those grunts are made for each other. Always gotta defend the womenfolk 'n' all – no, seriously, I really need to stop watching those movies – They really must stop doing that, especially when Teyla can definitely take care of herself. I've seen her in action... I wonder if she likes brains instead of brawn – What am I saying? Trying to banish the thoughts of Teyla in her workout gear, I think of The Beast eyeing her on more than one occasion. But to fight like that and still look so... Hmmm. Yes.

A sigh escapes my lips. The device I'm holding has become heavy in my hands, so I toss it down on the cluttered desk. It lands next to a stone tile. Really very interesting piece, you see. Delicate, intricate etchings all over glow faintly blue in my hand. I wonder what it would do when the colonel touched it –

Stupid gene! The one person who possesses the strongest DNA keeps trying to kill himself! Only a few of the scientist were born with the gene, and even I can do more than they can with a fake gene. I seriously believe I am surrounded by inferior people. They do this to me on purpose.

Then there's Carson Beckett. Although his gene is not as dominant as Sheppard's, he simply refuses to touch anything Ancient, unless it's for his voodoo magic. Quack doctor. What a waste!

Now, here I am, with a manufactured ATA gene, trying to make sense of every gadget and scribble that comes my way. It would've been easier to have been born with the stupid gene, but, no. Well, you can't pick your ancestors, can you? Deep down, I find myself relishing the challenge. Everyone knows that if they can't fix it, I can. And I will. Sheppard certainly knows it, or he wouldn't've said so to that hot, hot blonde on that volcano planet. Her name escapes me at the moment, but, God, was she hot. And intelligent. I'm sure, given time, I could've taught her a thing or two about Ancient technology. I think we would've gotten on rather well. Hmmm. Yes.

Under pressure, I can make anything happen. It may not be prudent at the time, but it does keep me as resident genius. I'm good with that. However, the amount of pressure the colonel goes through on a daily basis protecting this city is enormous, to say nothing of his unsaid obligation to the Athosians. I like the guy, but I wouldn't take his job for a ZedPM. He's a protector, but he will sacrifice himself at the drop of a hat. Always the first one hurt, and the last to leave.

To be fair, I admire him for keeping me on his team. And for being able to hold a conversation, which is more than I can say for most of these idiots here. Besides Elizabeth. That little crease in her brow when Sheppard's running some half-assed plan by her, or when I immediately figure out yet another Ancient puzzle – well, maybe not immediately. But that's not the point. The point is –

I digress.

Military-wise, I'm no Daniel Jackson. Guns, while useful, are not my cup of tea. But I can shoot relatively straight – actually, Sheppard did say my aim was improving. And I can get us home to Atlantis, flying a jumper or not. But I do hate the sight of blood. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous, and I have seen too much of the colonel's blood as of late.

I sigh loudly, and the sound echoes across the lab. I gently lay down the tile that I've been turning over in my hands, and rub my gritty eyes. Sleep is usually elusive, but right now, I'm tired and more than a little hungry. Bracing my hands on my knees, I rise stiffly from my stool.

As I exit my lab, Sheppard breezes quietly by, seeming to unconsciously avoid colliding with me. I would have moved, but I had no idea he was coming. I mean, he made no sound at all. How does he do that? Where is he going at this hour anyway? Did he escape Carson's voodoo hut, or did he actually get released?

I stretch my legs to catch up to him. Since he's here, he might as well help me with this tile... "Colonel Sheppard!"

Did he just cringe? What am I? The plague? He is cringing!

"Rodney," he says, but doesn't turn around or stop walking.

I jog the last few steps to fall into step with him. I try to think of a segue to get him to come to the lab, or at least slow down. "Can't sleep, huh?" He slows fractionally, but I'm still out of breath.

"I could say the same for you," he says, glancing at me. Something like concern flashes in his eyes, then it's gone. Is he worried about me? "I coulda sworn you have quarters somewhere around here."

"Oh, you're one to talk! I haven't seen you sleep or eat in the last 48 hours, and you want to talk about my habits?" I really hate him sometimes, whether he's right or wrong. I hear him faintly gasp. His eyes are closed, and he's pinching the bridge of his nose. My guess is a very big headache. Is that a vein throbbing at his temple? I reach hesitantly for his arm, he pausing mid-step.

"Colonel?" I get ahead of him briefly. He opens his eyes, and for a split second, I can see the depths of his weariness. Then it's gone. "You know, you should really be in bed, Sheppard. You look like crap."

I can't help it. Someone has to say it. He starts moving forward again, and I'm walking backwards. The motion nauseates me, so I turn around to walk beside him.

"Could we drop this, McKay?" he says, lancing me with a green glare. "You think I look like crap, well have you checked a mirror lately?"

I snort at him. If that's the best he can do, he must be out of it. "Oh, nice retort, Colonel. You should really save those gems for when there's more people around."

"You like that? 'Cause I got more."

"Whatever. I seriously doubt you do because you can't even walk straight. What's the matter, Sheppard? Marbles get knocked around too much? Bar room brawls getting too rough for you? Elizabeth –"

Now he does stop. A cold, cruel smile creeps across his face, as he wags a bony finger in front of my nose. He shakes his head, eyes glinting dangerously. Who does he think he is? However, I see something dark stirring behind those normally suspicious eyes. To be perfectly honest, he's giving me the creeps. Did the lights just flicker? Then the moment is over. The clouds have moved away from the sun, and the beast has been banished. He claps me on the shoulder and gives a weary laugh. Sheppard releases me, moving onward without another word.

I'm a bit taken aback by this sudden behavior. Okay, maybe I crossed some proverbial imaginary line with him, but I needed to bait him just a little. Then an image of the forgotten tile and gadget flashes into my mind. I tap my finger on my lip in thought. How do I ask him now? "Umm, since you're up, why don't you stop by my lab?" I hope to distract him from what just happened. "My team and I found this dev–"

"No." He's very succinct as I follow him into a transporter.

"No?" Why not? It's not like he says yes all the time, but this time I was hoping to spend some time with him. Maybe get him to talk about what happened on R3F-269. He usually came to the lab when he couldn't sleep, so I thought maybe – I do not understand him. "What do you mean by 'No'? 'No' as in not right now? Or, 'No' as in I'm too busy getting hurt saving people that I don't have time to do something important for –"

"McKay!" He cuts off my apparent downward spiral to madness – he is so frustrating! – with a sharp tone and rounded eyes. "Let it go!" Pushing a hand through that usually perfectly groomed thatch of hair, he looks me in the eye again. This time, no clouds, no electric intensity, no flickering lights. "I'm busy. Go to bed, Rodney," he says. "That's an order." With a quicksilver smile, he's gone again.

Go to bed, Rodney. Look who's talking! "You, too!" Screw this! I'm not running to catch up to him anymore. I feel defeated, and definitely tired and hungry. Go to bed, Rodney. I snort and turn to go to the commissary. Stupid military people and their need for stoic heroism. Go ahead. Hide behind your mask of emotional control, give nothing away. Must be in the contract when you sign up. Check here if you can hide all types of pain and torture.

Whatever. Like I wouldn't notice he could barely turn his head to face me. Or the way he stiffly walked, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. And he has the nerve to look frail and tired and hurt. He really pisses me off. Why should I be the only one that cares? I do care, don't I? Hmmm. Yes.

A jaw-cracking yawn and a stretch overcome me as I shuffle down the corridor. I hear voices behind me. Glancing behind, I see Teyla and Ronon (swinging saloon doors pop into my head again) speaking in hushed tones, and Carson ducking into the infirmary. Had I walked that far with Sheppard?

"...I am just worried about the colonel. He just will not rest when he is supposed to do so. He does not listen–"

The ape grunts, head nodding in my direction. I stop to let them catch up to me.

Teyla glances at me, and gives me another one of her radiant smiles. "Doctor McKay. How are you?"

Why do people keep changing the subject when they get around me? I try to give her a Sheppard-like smile. "I'm fine. A bit tired and kinda achy, but, ah, no worse for wear." God, could I sound a little more lame? "Just trying to get the colonel to activate something for me, but you know how he is." I tried to keep my frustration in check.

"I am sure he is just tired," Teyla said softly.

Then, something I can't explain, comes over me. "Why does he do that?" I can't stop the words from coming out. "What makes a person run himself into the ground? There's gonna be nothing left of him if we don't help." If I was feeling defeated before, this just added to the weight. My shoulders sag, and I feel a gnawing in my stomach. I can't help but to look down, lacking the wherewithal to keep my head up.

Two hands grasp my shoulders, forcing me to look up from a shiny spot on the floor. Teyla and Ronon briefly squeeze my shoulders; Teyla departs with a reassuring smile. Either that, or a sad one. Whichever. "That doesn't make me feel any better, you know," I say; I can hear the sulk in my voice.

He-Man grunted, "That's all you're getting out of me, McKay." Honestly, I was surprised he allowed himself to show any kind of empathy. I watch them as they walk ahead of me.

God, it is so much easier to only think of saving your own ass. Worrying about others is way too exhausting, not to mention somewhat one-sided. I shove my hands into my pockets, following them. Hercules has now placed a ham-like hand on Teyla's delicate shoulder. I wonder briefly about Ronon and Teyla, again banishing any thoughts of Klingon love-making. My hand caresses something smooth and cool in my pocket.

Ooh. A power bar.

Go to bed, Rodney.

-------

TBC... Next up, Carson!

Thanks so much for your kind words!