AN: This is for episode 3x03 Irresistible. Because of the nature of the episode, I went a little overboard with this episode tag! Hope you enjoy it.
The Traveling Gourd
OoO
Elizabeth watched as Rodney left, following after John, and made a mental note to have a small talk to Rodney about drugging his team leader for maid purposes. With folded arms, she raised an eyebrow at Teyla and Ronon. "Make sure --"
"We will," Teyla replied, two mental steps ahead of Elizabeth's thoughts.
With a feral edge that made Elizabeth smirk, Ronon added, "After he finishes."
"Ronon," Carson warned.
The runner shrugged, ignoring Teyla's irritated look, and made no move to leave. "He said I fawned." As if that explained everything.
"You did," Elizabeth said. Everyone had – including her -- and though she had to admit, John's teasing was wearing a little thin, that didn't mean she condoned Rodney's little experiment. "Go, now."
As Teyla dragged the bigger man away, Elizabeth overheard Teyla hissing, "You at least were able to shoot him earlier, be thankful for that."
She shared a smile with Carson as they turned and headed towards her office. Elizabeth imagined that the teasing wasn't confided to her, or Carson. Seeing how Teyla, Ronon and McKay were on his team, and they had to spend far more time in each other's company, it was a good bet that John hadn't let the 'seventh wife' comment rest, or Ronon's eagerness in collecting the drug.
"I don't know what the lad's complaining for? Colonel Sheppard kidnapped, tied me up and forced me to undergo a very painful withdrawal. The rest of you got the serum and benefited. I can promise you, it was a far sight better than cold turkey." Carson moved toward her desk, as Elizabeth angled for her chair sitting behind. Forlornly he added, "I haven't even gotten the satisfaction of administering his injection."
Settling in her chair, Elizabeth pushed away the newest report, noting how it was twice as thick as usual. Considering they had been otherwise preoccupied and distracted because of Lucius' influence, the regular data bursts and reports were backlogged and needed to be sorted, sent and filed…and signed. Everything always needed to be signed. "It might be a good idea to do that now." Not only because of Rodney's little experiment, but somehow Elizabeth doubted Lucius was going to go quietly back to a life of ignominy.
"Aye, I'm sure Rodney wouldn't take it too far --" Carson started to say, perched uncomfortably on the corner of Elizabeth's desk, when his eyes locked on to the lumpy brownish-green gourd and tallow candle, and he drifted off, distracted by the reminder.
"I'm sure he wouldn't," Elizabeth agreed quickly. She followed his gaze to the gourd, and idly contemplated the ugly object. When Lucius had first presented it to her, it'd been all she could do to not laugh. She wasn't laughing now. Clearing her throat of the embarrassment the gourd made her feel, again, she stood and lifted the object, staring at it with distaste. "But let's not tempt the temptable, shall we?" After all, maybe Lucius had begun down his road with good intentions, and the herb had an affect similar to the sarcophagus the Gou'ald used. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. And to think, she'd actually wanted…
"Before I go," Carson started. He looked even more uncomfortable than before. "I need to know if you…I mean, as your doctor, I'd need to run some tests in case…"
"Carson?" Elizabeth asked archly. "What are you trying to say?"
He looked miserably at the floor. "Elizabeth, you and Lucius…you didn't ever…"
Elizabeth didn't know what embarrassed her more, the blushing she felt down to the roots on her scalp, or the fact that Carson was asking such a personal question in the first place, doctor or not. Shoving the gourd at his chest harder than was necessary, she said, "No, I didn't."
The shove was hard enough that it pushed him off balance, and the small part of his ass that was on the desk suddenly found itself over open air. Carson had to scramble to get his feet under him, and grab the gourd when she released it from her grip. He clutched the ugly decoration and grimaced. "You know I had to ask, STD's can be dangerous, Elizabeth."
"Fine," she acknowledged frostily. "You have your answer, I'm sure you have other…personnel…to quiz." She hadn't been the only female mooning over Lucius. The memory caused her to shudder again. Shoving those thoughts in the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind, Elizabeth pointedly sat back in her chair, and opened the depressingly fat file. She really was going to be paying for this fiasco for days, in paperwork alone.
And if anyone else insinuated that she'd actually slept with that despicable man, she was liable to say something she'd regret. The fact that she knew she would've, if John hadn't been safe from the influence and saved them all…no, don't go there. What's done is done, and she hadn't, period.
An awkward pause ensued, and she looked up from the first report that she was supposed to be reading, but was more along the lines of skimming with her eyes, waiting for Carson to leave. It was about how much food consumption had ensued while Lucius was on Atlantis (way above normal). Instead of leaving, Carson was still standing self-consciously in front of her desk. She raised an eyebrow in question.
He shifted on his feet and held the gourd out. "What am I to do with this?"
"What ever you want," she answered stiltedly. Inwardly, her thoughts were ranging towards burn it, crush it, even tossing it at the initial deadly reflux of the event horizon.
Carson stared at her, then at the gourd. With a tired sigh, he tucked it reluctantly close to his chest and left. Elizabeth watched until he was out of earshot then chuckled, feeling the first glimmers of amusement. His question had been a fair one, considering how prolific Lucius was back on his planet, but she was in no way going to let him off easy. Especially considering that his breach of protocol was what started the complete and utter loss of control and common sense for all of them. Elizabeth shoved away the guilty thought about how she was doing her own version of Sheppard's taunting.
OoO
Carson headed to the small alcove in the infirmary that served as his work station when he wasn't in his office. He set the gourd down, both wary of it, and amused. The creepy thing was serving as a talisman to the entire disaster that he'd instigated. If it hadn't been for Colonel Sheppard's cold who knows what might've happened.
"Uh, Doc?"
Looking up from the gourd, Carson saw Sheppard standing awkwardly at the door. Speak of the devil… "Yes, Colonel? What can I do for you?"
"Can I…talk to you for a second?"
Straightening self-consciously, he fought against the urge to pick the gourd up and hold it in front of him in a protective gesture. "No offense, Colonel, but the last time you said that, you shot me."
Sheppard brought his hand to his mouth and coughed painfully, before pulling it down, clearing his throat and wincing, whether it was from the memory, or the coughing, Carson wasn't sure.
"Yeah, about that…"
All right, maybe he felt a small clench of guilt. The colonel was sick, and considering the circumstances he'd done the only reasonable thing. Really, it was flattering that the one Sheppard had kidnapped to solve the problem was him, not Rodney or Zelenka. "I suppose I had it coming," he admitted ruefully. "Now, what would you be needing?"
"About that cold of mine…"
Of course. Carson shook his head at himself. The poor man had been coughing and sneezing for a few days before, and all the running around probably hadn't helped. Walking away from his desk, Carson took Sheppard's arm and steered him towards an exam bed. "Have a seat, Colonel, and let's get a look at you." Surreptitiously, Carson was all ready doing just that. The colonel looked under the weather, to be sure. In essence, he could describe Sheppard with one word, and it'd serve well enough. He was drooping.
As Carson pulled the colonel towards the nearest bed, Sheppard kept looking over his shoulder, and finally turned to Carson, asking, "Is that the gourd Lucius gave Elizabeth?" His voice a mixture of surprise, irritation and something else Carson couldn't pin down.
"It is," Carson said, blocking Sheppard's view of it. "Up with you now." He patted the sheet on the gurney.
Sheppard hopped up, saying, "I was gonna throw it off the balcony." He had to abruptly cover his mouth as another round of coughing shook his body.
Ah. So that was the 'indefinable' else. Sheppard wanted to take a bit of frustration out on the wee object. "It would float." Carson's answer was distracted as he looked for a nurse to take Sheppard's vitals, before he remembered sending the one off to inventory, and the other to check with personnel to make sure there weren't any ill effects from the serum. He'd be stuck doing all the work-up on Sheppard, and any other patient that came in for the remainder of the day, most likely. "Open up, and give me a nice 'ahh', Colonel."
When Sheppard did, Carson looked at his throat with the penlight, pushing down his tongue with the wooden depressor. "Mmmmm, you're throat's definitely red, but it doesn't look like strep."
Sheppard looked uncomfortable, as he fought off another cough.
"Colonel?" Carson tossed the depressor in the trash and folded his arms, waiting. "Is there something specific about your cold that has you worried?"
"Doc…"
Sighing, he pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and settled it in his ears. Colonel Sheppard never did have an easy time admitting to ailments and injuries. Carson wasn't sure if it was because he hated being seen as less than capable, or if he'd had a family member with a chronic illness. Maybe both. It was something Carson had seen plenty of times before, and the colonel wasn't the only one on Atlantis that tended to be as uncomfortable with describing pain and symptoms.
Putting his medical degree to work, Carson did a mental walk through of complications one could get from a cold and began by starting with the most common. "Shortness of breath?"
"A little."
Sheppard answered in the most 'it's really not that big of a deal' way, which meant it was likely worse than what Carson wanted to find. He helped Sheppard out of his uniform jacket and pulled the colonel's t-shirt free from the waistband, slipping the diaphragm of the stethoscope up against the colonel's back. He started with the right side and made a mental note of the heat radiating from Sheppard's skin. "Deep breath in," he instructed softly.
The small rattle didn't surprise him. He listened to the left, then moved to the front before standing back and frowning at Sheppard. "If I'm right, you've got a bit of pneumonia in your lower right lobe."
"What's up with that?" Sheppard adjusted his shirt and stretched out flat on the bed as Carson pressed a guiding hand on the colonel's shoulder. "I thought I was getting better."
Carson positioned the scanner in place and powered it up, answering as he made sure it was in line to run along the side of the gurney. "That's typical, Colonel. Secondary infections tend to come after a lull in the initial illness. Now, hold still." Holding the tablet in his hand, he followed behind, skimming the information beginning to scroll across the screen. Yes…there it was. Not too large or serious, yet.
Pausing the scanner, Carson flipped it to internal view. A virtual picture of Colonel Sheppard's body appeared, rotated, then focused on the right lung, stripping away layers to show the spot he'd instructed it to. "See here," he said, pointing with his stylus. When Sheppard elbowed himself up enough to look, Carson continued, "A small pneumonia, and you've a low grade fever, so looks like we've caught it early."
Sheppard flopped loosely back against the gurney. "Great." He coughed harshly, winced and asked the inevitable. "I guess I'm off duty?"
"Is that so bad, Colonel? You've had a busy week, a little down time would be good for you," he said, turning off the equipment and rolling it off to the side, Carson finished his patient notes, including entering medication orders that would be relayed to the pharmacy lab who would then send a technician up with what he needed. He also administered an injection of broad spectrum antibiotic and the serum, just in case. Once that was done, Carson set the tablet down on his desk and regarded Sheppard as he tiredly sat. "Read that book of yours --"
"I'm ahead of schedule."
Some days Carson got the distinct feeling he was a pediatrician more than a geneticist, in no small part to one irascible Colonel, and another Rodney McKay. Smiling pleasantly, Carson took the gourd from the desk, and intercepted the newly arrived technician carrying Sheppard's medication, taking the bag holding the two bottles. He shoved both at the colonel's chest. "Take the antibiotic twice today, once for seven days after, the other bottle is optional, but it'll help loosen the congestion so I advise you take it." Without giving Sheppard a chance to complain further about the change in duty status, Carson headed into his office. Peace and quiet. That wasn't too much to ask, was it?
"Doc? What am I supposed to do with this thing?" Sheppard called after him.
He didn't need to look to know the colonel meant the gourd. "Float it, sink it, make a side dish, just go and get some rest, Colonel!"
OoO
Sheppard kind of figured Carson could've been a little more sympathetic. He did have pneumonia, and he probably got it saving their virtues…among other things. Staring at the gourd, he idly wondered about the side dish comment. Stewed, baked, sugar and cinnamon? "That'd probably work if it wasn't hollow, John," he muttered to himself.
He slipped off the gurney, and wondered what to do now. Off duty, and he really felt too sick for anything normal…like practicing with Teyla, or Ronon. Running, target practice. All of those lacked a serious amount of appeal.
Sleeping. That's what sounded like the best thing to do.
He dragged his feet the entire way to his quarters, glaring at anyone stupid enough to stare at the gourd clutched in his hands. You know, the thing kind of had an attractive edge to it, in a feminine, curvy kind of earthy way. And he could bring it out whenever anyone was obnoxious, just as a reminder, that's all.
Once the door closed behind him and he was safely in his quarters, Sheppard let loose with the cough that had been building ever since he'd left the infirmary. With one hand covering his mouth, even though he wasn't around anyone, he set the gourd on his desk, and the brown bag, shaking out the bottles. Zithromax, that was the antibiotic. Popping the lid, Sheppard shook one onto his palm, closed the lid, and aimed for his bathroom to get a cup of water.
He really was tired, and achy, and tired.
Dropping onto his bed, Sheppard wrapped himself in the blanket, thinking he'd just close his eyes for a minute, maybe two…
"Sheppard!"
Opening one eye, Sheppard was startled to see McKay staring at him, the worried look quickly replaced with one of feigned annoyance that wasn't fooling anyone. "Unless you're here to clean my room, you might want to run," he rasped.
McKay pulled back. "I all ready apologized for that, admittedly large, lapse in judgment."
He wasn't going to leave.
Reluctantly, Sheppard opened both eyes.
"What do you want?" Sheppard didn't bother pointing out the manners in knocking, seeing how he never extended the courtesy to McKay either.
"Elizabeth told me that Carson had the gourd, but then Carson said he gave it to you, so where is it?"
He almost pointed at the desk behind McKay, where the thing was resting in plain view, but then his mind caught up to the fact that it was resting in plain view.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking." Sheppard didn't quite hide the touched smirk. McKay was worried about him. How…sweet.
McKay's jaw came up, and he fixed his best 'I don't know what you're talking about' expression, and all Sheppard had to do was raise his eyebrow just so, and McKay crumbled. "Right. The gourd's behind me, isn't it?"
Not saying a word, Sheppard pointed his finger to the side of McKay.
Nodding knowingly, McKay spun on his heels and grabbed it. When he turned back to look at Sheppard, he might as well have had 'guilt' painted across his forehead. Sheppard knew McKay's trip to his room had nothing to do with the lumpy vegetable, and McKay knew he knew. Feeling a little edge of spite, just because he was sick, and feverish, and McKay hadn't been able to admit he cared, Sheppard said, "That's mine. I had plans for that gourd, McKay."
"It's not yours." McKay sent a glare tempered by the not-caring. "Besides, my plans are ultimately better than your plans."
"You were going to have Lucius' face carved into it and have it miraculously turn up again on Elizabeth's desk?" Sheppard kept a serious face when he asked, because really, if it was better than that, he wanted to hear it. Not that he'd really meant to do it. In this one, it was probably true that it's the thought that counts, because the real deal would probably be one of the stupidest things he'd ever do.
McKay's face went slack. "You were really going to do that? Are you nuts – do you know what kind of missions we'd be stuck with for the next month?"
Sheppard coughed, momentarily losing his ability to talk, and that made McKay come over, awkwardly patting him on his back, like Sheppard was some choking kid or something. He waved McKay off spluttering, "Water."
The cup was thrust into his hand and for a few seconds (maybe even a minute) Sheppard was distracted by his need to breathe. By the time he regained his composure, McKay and the gourd were gone.
"I wasn't really gonna do it!" he shouted at the closed door, disgruntled. Shit. Leave it to McKay to put a vegetable in protective custody.
OoO
Rodney had plans for the gourd, and it certainly wasn't fair that the only one on Atlantis that hadn't suffered the embarrassing effects of Lucius' herb had the object in his possession.
Granted, he had stopped at Sheppard's quarters to see for himself that the 'touch of pneumonia' wasn't anything serious, life threatening or otherwise damning, but he'd also been looking for the gourd. When Sheppard had caught on to his excuse Rodney had needed to aim for distracting.
And really, was Sheppard serious, or just yanking his chain, because carving Lucius' face and making the thing appear on Elizabeth's desk was mission suicide. Rodney could always claim he was just looking out for Sheppard's interests when the colonel caught up to him. As for the gourd, his idea was sheer brilliance. He'd all ready built the wheel assembly, power and voice playback. All he had to do was outfit the vegetable and give it a test run. Maybe that, and a little paint job.
Grinning from ear to ear, Rodney picked up his pace. This was going to be one for the record books.
OoO
Ronon twirled into a jump kick, his foot landing perfectly on the hanging sand bag with a satisfying jolt. He'd left McKay's quarters, after making sure Sheppard was heading towards the infirmary and not cleaning, and then went straight for this room they called the gym. Whatever name they called it, to him it was a place to get out his frustrations more and more. He'd been in here a lot since they'd turned that wraith into a human and given him a name. Michael. They could call it anything they wanted, it didn't change the fact that it'd still been a wraith.
And now he'd been turned into a mindless follower by some herb.
Sometimes he wondered if staying here had been such a bright idea. Ronon's lips curled in disgust as he remembered with excruciating detail how he'd laughed and become Lucius' body guard. Lucius had had Ronon do his dirty work, and he'd been happy to do it. Mindless following wasn't something Ronon had every done before and he wasn't going to ever again. Good thing he didn't do apologizing, or he'd be lining up to apologize to Sheppard and McKay.
As he pulled his arm back to throw a vicious punch, Ronon considered that while Sheppard was probably going to wear on everyone's nerves with the sarcastic remarks, McKay wasn't likely to let Ronon forgot how he'd forced McKay against the wall and let Lucius' influence finally take effect.
One thing Ronon didn't do was guilt. McKay's constant harping would only serve as an irritation, kind of like a biting bug from Sateda. They'd buzz and fly around until you got angry enough to focus on killing them.
He delivered a right hand punch, and pulled back his left for another hit, when a sharp sting on his calf caused him to drop his arm, and jump backwards, looking for what had done it. He looked at his leg, the leather over his calf looked normal, no bug or anything else that would explain the pain he'd felt.
A blur of motion off to his left drew his glare, and Ronon focused on the small squattish object, dull silver, with black lines running around the top like some kind of helmet or something. It was moving across the floor, back towards him. A small metal rod pushed out from the body, and Ronon stepped back, suspicious.
"Exterminate!"
It started to come faster at him, and Ronon realized that the shape of it was vaguely familiar. The bulbous bottom, and smaller top, but…
"What …" he started to ask, who he wasn't sure.
He didn't get any farther because the thing wheeled too close and started repeating, "Destroy the Doctor. You are an enemy of the Daleks!" The rod poked against his leg, and even before the crackling sound registered, the sharp, now familiar pain, did. He jerked away, and quickly bent down, lifting the thing off the floor, pointing the rod away from his body.
He hadn't seen anything like this before, but it reminded him of the toy robots he'd played with as a boy on Sateda. A very young boy. Figuring who he'd find not far away, Ronon sauntered out the door, and found McKay rapidly pushing a button on a device and muttering, "Why aren't you coming back?"
"Looking for this?" Ronon asked casually.
McKay guiltily shoved the controller behind him, and put on his best 'I'm innocent' face that wasn't fooling Ronon. "I heard one of our…Ancient devices…was possibly…malfunctioning in the gym?"
"Malfunctioning," Ronon echoed dryly.
Knowing he was caught, McKay sighed, and pulled the device back to the front. "Fine, fine. It's a Dalek." The smug grin returned full force and he poked the antenna towards Ronon. "I was testing it, and who better to try it out on, because it was your fault I was turned into a Stepford wife, the least you can do is be a graceful test subject." He worked a few buttons and the thing spun its wheels uselessly in Ronon's arms, the stick retracting telescopically into itself.
Ronon took a longer look at it, suspicion raising his eyebrow. "Is that the --"
"Gourd, yes," McKay answered. His face brightened. "You want to see what it can do? I thought it was rather poetic justice, turning it into a genocidal robot, don't you think?" He waved the controller towards the floor. "Just put it down, right there."
The squawk of protest from McKay was almost louder than the robot, as Ronon grabbed the controller from McKay's hands and kept the Dalek firmly in his grip.
"Now, let's not be hasty." McKay backed away as Ronon pushed a series of buttons until he was able to get the rod to extend again. "You did hold me against a wall and let that…fruit loop…pheromone me."
"McKay," Ronon growled, pushing more buttons. The wheels spun, rotating on a circular base, and started screaming, "Exterminate!" shrilly.
"Oh, look at the time, I promised Carson I'd meet him for lunch." McKay pointed at his watch, and jumped out of the gourd's range as it discharged a jolt of electricity. "By the way, Sheppard's got pneumonia, if you and Teyla want to visit…son of a bitch!" Ronon was getting the hang of the controls. He chased McKay all the way to the transporter and the only thing that followed him in the doors was Ronon's feral grin as McKay shouted, "He's in his quarters!" The doors began to close when McKay's head popped out again long enough for him to shout, "Don't tell him I shot you!" His head disappeared, then a hand stopped the doors and McKay leaned out again and said with a somewhat pleased expression, "On second thought, I really think he'd appreciate the irony --"
"McKay…"
"Going, going."
Once the doors finally closed, and McKay was gone, Ronon studied the robot. The paint job had been quick, he could see areas where the black paint had ran into the silver before it had dried, and in some places it was still sticky. Where the rod was looked too big and if he held it up to the light he could see clean through the gourd where McKay had bored the hole. A small part in the bottom of it was missing and inside was a small metal box. Seemed simple enough, but Ronon wondered how it worked.
Maybe he'd go surprise Teyla with it. Probably not the smartest idea, but if she didn't know about Sheppard being sicker, she'd want to. It wasn't like he'd made the robot, he was just going to play with it. A little.
Before he squashed it and threw it in the air for target practice.
OoO
Teyla left the balcony, wondering where John had disappeared too. After they had sent him to the infirmary for the serum, rescuing him from cleaning Rodney's quarters any further, she had not seen or heard from him.
She normally would call over the radio, but the fact that she was only looking for him for one reason was something that she would rather keep to herself. Teyla wanted to find a partner to spar with, and she did not need the overload of testosterone that was Ronon today. She had had enough of men in general, and the only reason why she had hoped to find John to spar with was because she rather felt a need to apologize and ensure the colonel was feeling well after the recent events.
When they had parted, John had seemed...tired.
Carson had given him some medication before they had returned Lucius to his planet and perhaps its effects were simply wearing off.
She was reluctant to look farther, but the restlessness inside begged to be released. Maybe she would have to settle for Ronon. Still…
A soft bump against her foot brought Teyla to a halt, and she looked down in confusion, unsure of what she was looking at. A small object that looked surprisingly like…
"It's the gourd," Ronon confirmed behind her.
Teyla turned, and tilted her head questioningly. "Who…altered it?"
He pushed some buttons and the robot retreated to Ronon's feet. "McKay -- got to watch it, the thing shocks you."
"I see." Really, she did not, but Teyla had accepted that the men she worked with behaved in odd ways, and did equally odd things, such as transforming a vegetable into a robot. "Have you seen Colonel Sheppard?"
Ronon scooped up the gourd. "McKay said he's sick, in his quarters. I was coming to tell you."
She had known something was wrong, had felt it, and still had not searched for why. "I have been looking for him," she explained, turning towards the corridor that led to the transporter. Ronon followed along, drawing even with her, the gourd clutched in his hands. Teyla's gaze locked onto the small object, seeing the brown-green lumps showing through the light coating of silver. "Perhaps we should not bring that to his room?"
If the colonel was feeling poor, Teyla did not imagine seeing a reminder of Lucius, no matter how altered, would help improve his condition.
"What do you want me to do with it?"
The transporter doors opened and revealed Radek, causing a slow smile to spread across Teyla's face.
OoO
Sheppard groaned as he rolled onto his side, fighting off another bout of coughing. When he'd called the infirmary earlier complaining, Carson had said coughing would help, get the gunk in his lungs loosened, but it sure as hell wasn't helping his increasingly sore throat. The more he coughed, the worse it hurt.
And the real kicker? No one had visited – well, aside from Rodney, and all he'd done was steal the gourd once he'd been reassured that Sheppard wasn't gonna die.
Now he was lying in bed, too miserable to do anything but doze and cough, and no one else had showed up to entertain him. Sheppard was feeling those abandonment twinges again. Sure, he'd teased a little…okay…a lot, but he was sick. He needed someone to hover.
Maybe he should go and find where everyone had gone to.
Right after that thought came another, scarier, more groan worthy one – what if the Lucius fiasco wasn't over? What if they were all gathered around the creepy guy in the lounge…
The knocking on his door stopped Sheppard's mind from running away from him. Still, he was entitled to have worries and stuff. "Come in!" he shouted, losing the end of his sentence to another round of coughing. The fact that the person was knocking automatically eliminated one certain individual, and besides, Rodney wasn't likely to show for the rest of the day after making off with this booty.
So when Teyla and Ronon walked in, he wasn't surprised so much as he was thankful, at least the other half of his team had decided to keep him entertained. Sitting up, he was honest enough to admit, he was feeling like a spoiled kid, wanting attention. "Hi guys," he greeted hoarsely. He shoved down the 'where've you been'…too whiny. He might want to say it, but he wouldn't.
Teyla surveyed the empty water glass and wadded up tissues. Sheppard had caved and taken the other medication Carson had prescribed. Now he was coughing worse and his nose was dripping…again. Carson had said that was a good thing too. Something along the lines of 'clear your sinuses'.
"How are you feeling, Colonel? I heard you have developed a…pneumonia?"
The word was unfamiliar to her, and Ronon didn't seem anymore clued in either. Sheppard gestured to the lone chair by his desk and then the relatively unruffled end of his bed. "Sit," he ordered. Ronon went for the chair before Teyla could, and she eyed the bed, then him and his tissues before staying on her feet. Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Pneumonia isn't contagious, Teyla. It's a bacterial infection. Not a big deal," he assured her.
Of course, it was a big deal when no one had been visiting him.
Whether Teyla would've eventually sat or not turned out to be inconsequential, because Atlantis' alarms began blaring, loud and annoying. Sheppard reached for his radio just as Teyla tapped hers, shooting him a look that clearly said 'stay down'.
"This is Teyla, what is happening?"
Even from his bed, Sheppard could tell she wasn't getting an answer. Time ticked and he'd waited long enough. He had his boots on in record time and was reaching for his pistol when he heard the muted sounds of a voice responding. Was that…
"Who's laughing?" he demanded.
Alarms and laughing weren't a normal combination. Unless Lucius was back.
Not waiting to hear more, Sheppard had his gun and was running out the door, not pausing when Teyla called, "Colonel, wait!"
He knew Ronon and Teyla were running after him, but he'd gotten a head start, and arrived in the gateroom ahead of them, pulling up short as he took in the confusing scene. Personnel crowded around the control room promenade, and the normal Marines on guard around the gate were all looking up. Standing in the front of the crowd on the control deck was Zelenka and McKay, arguing loudly, amidst the blaring alarms. No one seemed overly concerned and Lucius was definitely not here.
"What the --" he started to shout, when an object dove at his head.
"Colonel!"
"Sheppard!"
The shouted duet of Ronon and Teyla had him ducking just to avoid getting decapitated or knocked flat by whatever that thing was. As it shot back up, he could barely make out music. It was playing music?
Dumbfounded, Sheppard felt like he was Alice and he'd just fallen down the rabbit hole…again.
The alarms cut off.
"—that damn noise OFF!"
Elizabeth had apparently been in mid-yell, and continued on, her mind taking a moment to realize the noise had been stopped. Well, most of the noise had. The alarms had stopped but the flying object that kept making strafing runs at people's heads was definitely playing music, but the constant up and down distorted the tinny notes.
Zelenka and McKay came running down the stairs, and Sheppard pulled his nine mil, aiming. As he pulled the trigger, McKay shouted, "Don't shoot!" just as Zelenka cried out, "No, Colonel!"
The shot hit true and the UFO jerked off kilter, sparked and dropped to the floor with a sickening thud. The music was slowed, and warped, but now Sheppard could clearly hear the voice singing with a familiar Czech accent, "Jolly old Saint Lucius, lend your ear this way…"
With dawning realization, Sheppard whirled on the two scientists, incredulous and holding his pistol still aimed at what he now recognized as the modified gourd. "You've got to be kidding me?" he barked.
"Don't you tell a single soul, what I've done…"
McKay looked like he was a step away from punching Zelenka. "I made it into a Dalek. It shot people," he crowed. "This is…" McKay's eyes did something accusing and disgruntled. "…an abomination. My very cool Doctor Who robot, turned into some…glorified juke box!"
"It is not a juke box!" Zelenka defended. "I merely made it fly and say more than 'Exterminate'!" He poked McKay. "You think only in small box. One thing, when the possibilities were too many to count."
"Now you dear old fat man, whisper what you'll do to me…"
Sheppard's head pounded, his mouth twitched and just as he was going to fire again and put them all out of their misery, Teyla scooped up the warbling, somewhat damaged, Dalek juke box gourd.
"I shall take care of this," she said quickly. Her eyes traveled upwards, to where Elizabeth was staring down with a mixture of horror and bemusement. Teyla nodded, and it was returned by Elizabeth, giving the Athosian permission to abscond with the gourd.
As she left, Ronon quirked an eyebrow at McKay and said, "I liked it better when it shot people."
He didn't want to know. He just…didn't want to know. Sheppard went to shove the pistol into his holster only to realize he didn't have one. The safety was back on so he did something he'd never let anyone else get away with, and tucked it into his waistband. He patted McKay sympathetically and said, "We can go back, ask Lucius for another one."
The chorus of 'No's' followed them out of the gateroom, and Sheppard was pretty sure Elizabeth's was one of the loudest.
OoO
Days later, Teyla visited Halling and her people. As they sat in one of the new wooden homes that had been built recently, she retrieved the gourd from her bag and set it on the table between them.
"What is this?" Halling asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes at the peculiar looking object.
It was now greatly unrecognizable, in large part to the top portion having been blown away by the colonel's very good aim, and the modifications and painting from both Rodney and Radek, however, Teyla felt it was salvageable.
"This was a gift, and I would like to make it one again, if you are willing to help?"
Halling reached for the vegetable, and turned it over in his hands, before placing it back on the table. "What would you wish me to do with it?"
Leaning in, Halling's smile deepened in the firelight as she explained.
TBC after Sateda
