Disclaimer: Not ours. We're just playing.
Author Note: Exploded Pen would be here to chip in a few words, but between the stress and panic of upcoming exams, and what she calls a "somewhat dead right arm", it's just The Libran Iniquity (aka me) to say thank you for the reviews we've received so far. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)
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Chapter Two
"Beckett to Doctor McKay."
"What is it, Carson?" Rodney asked, pulling himself away from the malfunctioning computer panel by the training room door.
Even through the radio connection, Carson sounded concerned. "You still haven't been in to see me about the arm."
"The arm?" Rodney repeated, looking down at both of his. "What about the arm?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Rodney," Carson chided. "If you don't come to see me about it so I can make sure everything's okay then I'll have no choice but to suspend you from the team until it is sorted."
"No point," Rodney replied absently, already immersed in the Ancient circuitry again. "I'm not going off-world anymore."
"Not going off... Rodney, what are you talking a-"
Rodney cut the connection and stared at the circuitry some more. He'd just figured out what the problem was, and rooted around in his toolkit, looking for one of the wire cutters to get at one of the crystals. Thirty seconds of tweaking and prodding later, and Rodney was finally able to start rectifying the problem.
The problem being that this wasn't some random malfunction in ten thousand year old equipment. This looked more like damage caused by an impact. Something solid, and moving at relatively high speed had crashed into the panel and caused the damage...
So why had Rodney been told it was just a malfunction?
Either way, it was the work of less than ten minutes to fix the problem. Closing up the computer panel, Rodney rubbed his arm, almost absent-mindedly. Maybe he ought to go see Carson about it after all; he'd had a look at the scabbed skin again last night, and it hadn't looked so hot.
Hmm. Coffee first, then voodoo.
Rodney stashed the toolkit in one of the empty science labs on the long way over to the commissary, and once there went straight for the hatch where the coffeepots were. Pouring himself a rather generous mug, Rodney paid little attention to anyone else in there until...
"I still can't believe you broke the damn thing, Doc!"
Rodney recognised Ford's voice immediately, along with the perpetually jokey tone the young Marine seemed to have. His head snapped up, and he turned around, his gaze landing on the table in one corner, where Ford, Teyla and Radek were sitting.
"Is true; my shoulder will never be same again," Radek replied, massaging his right shoulder with an apparently wounded look in Ford's direction.
Ford grinned at Teyla. "You didn't have to push him that hard, did you?"
Rodney didn't stay around to hear Teyla's reply, grabbing his mug of coffee and leaving the commissary before any of them saw him.
When he got back to his lab he found a nurse waiting for him. "What do you want?" he snapped, pushing past her to get to his desk.
She looked at him disapprovingly as he gulped coffee and booted up the laptop. "Doctor Beckett sent me. He wants to see you."
Rodney waved her off. "Tell him I'm busy," he muttered, entering his password into the start-up screen.
"He said now."
Well, Rodney had to hand it to her; the woman had guts. But he had coffee and a building temper.
"I'm sorry," he began, staring up at her from his chair, "but what part of 'I'm busy' didn't you understand the first time around? Now be a nice girlie and toddle back off to the infirmary before I find something to disassemble your DNA with."
The nurse was speechless as she stared at him; taking advantage of her momentary shock, Rodney grabbed her by both shoulders and manoeuvred her out into the hallway, closing and locking the lab door behind him on the way back in.
Rodney pulled his laptop open in a harsh movement. A second later, staring at a squeaky monitor, he realised he'd been irritated at how easily Zelenka had been interacting with Ford and Teyla. He had to remind himself they weren't his team-mates anymore, not like that, anyway. Of course, interaction like that was only to be expected, after all. Rodney had been the one to suggest the Czech as his replacement, he just hadn't figured on Sheppard and the others giving up on him so quickly, though. "It was what I wanted," he insisted quietly, watching as lists of equations finally scrolled down the screen in front of him.
Still... Sheppard could at least have put up a little more of a fight... right?
Rodney shook his head, took another swig of coffee and stared back at the computer screen, letting himself be drawn back under by the rows of formulae. Within minutes he was so absorbed he didn't notice when the laboratory door opened and someone came in none too quietly.
He looked up as a shadow loomed over his desk. "Ah, so where the minion failed, in comes the tribal overlord," he muttered. "What do you want, Carson?"
Carson barely blinked at the insult. "Let's just say there's a strongly masochistic streak in me that demands I examine your arm before it drops off, Rodney."
Rodney's eyes widened. "It's not that bad!" he replied defensively.
"Ah, so you're admitting there's somethin' wrong with it after all?" Carson queried, raising his eyebrows.
"Of course there's something wrong, there's a hole in my arm!" Rodney snapped back.
Carson's expression softened a little from annoyed. "Let me take a look," he said.
"Fine." Rodney held out the appendage in question, his attention already turning back to the laptop.
There was an audible sigh as Carson awkwardly rolled up the sleeve of Rodney's shirt past his elbow. Rodney couldn't prevent the hiss escaping as the material was forced over the wound. There was a moment of silence, Carson twisting the arm this way and that to get a better look at the injury. "Have you been pickin' at this?" he asked sharply.
Rodney didn't look up. "If I say no, will you go away?" he asked caustically. "Bottom line, is it going to kill me in my sleep?"
"Doubtful, but it might drop off when you're least expectin' it ta," Carson replied without missing a beat, and there was a grim look of satisfaction on his face when a brief flare of panic shot through Rodney. "Come on," he added, softer now, "let's get you to the infirmary, and I'll clean this up, dress it properly and then you can be on your way."
"Okay." Rodney found himself nodding. A second later, Carson had him by the uninjured arm, and was gently leading him out of the lab and in the direction of the infirmary.
Once there, Carson sat him down on one of the beds, and brought over a trolley containing a first aid kit and some chemical-looking stuff in a bottle. He opened the kit, and brought out some cotton pads; soaking one of them in the liquid, he motioned for Rodney to lift his shirtsleeve again.
Rodney winced at the initial contact against the wound, and tried to pull away, but Carson's grip on his lower arm was like steel. Almost as soon as it has started the stinging subsided, and Rodney watched with growing disinterest as Carson wiped away the dirt that had accumulated around the dried blood, and then, with another quick trip into the first aid kit, began to apply lint and surgical tape. "So... why did you leave it so long to let me have a look at this?" Carson's tone was curious more than it was admonishing.
Rodney shook his head. "Don't know," he muttered. Well, it was almost the truth.
Carson looked entirely unconvinced. "Could I have something more than the Reader's Digest version?" he asked.
"I really don't know?" Rodney replied sarcastically. "Are you done yet?"
"Just a second." Carson sounded resigned, applying another strip of surgical tape over the lint and snipping the end off just above Rodney's elbow. "There. All done now."
When Rodney didn't immediately jump down from the bed and take the quickest route of there, the look of uncertainty on Carson's face grew. "Rodney?"
"Carson?"
"Somethin' botherin' you?"
"Really, Carson." Rodney didn't meet his eyes. "What on earth would give you that idea?"
Carson didn't look impressed. "How much time have you got?"
Rodney's head jerked up. "Oh great. Pick on the scientist with too much work on his hands, and not enough..." he trailed off under his friend's stare. "I don't want to talk about it," he offered lamely.
"Is it about bein' taken off the team?" Carson asked quietly.
"I wasn't taken off the team!" Rodney retorted. "I chose to leave the team. Leaving the team was entirely my decision. Are you going to try and play Spanish Inquisition with me, or can I go now? I've got work to be doing, as you may recall."
Carson nodded slowly. "Aye, but just remember what my degree's in, Rodney," he replied, sounding good-natured enough. "I can make the Spanish Inquisition seem like nothin' more than a clipboard survey."
"I thought that was my job," Rodney smirked back, jumping off the bed. He was stopped from going any further by Carson's hand on his arm.
"I'm bein' serious, Rodney," he told him. "Anythin' botherin' you, come talk to me, okay?"
"Sure, fine. Tell you what, I'll get one of those sappy, crappy romance films off Simpson, and we can gush over that as well," Rodney snapped back. He shook off Carson's arm and left the infirmary.
o o o o o
The next morning, and just three days after walking into Elizabeth's office, Rodney found himself sitting in his lab, staring into his third cup of coffee and wondering why he had the strangest feeling that he'd forgotten to do something, or be somewhere.
The feeling was further compounded when Zelenka came walking in, making a beeline directly for Rodney's workspace. The Czech looked guilty as he got closer, although Rodney couldn't for the life of him work out why that would be. There hadn't been any pointless explosions that Rodney hadn't yelled about, nor was Zelenka grossly incompetent. So... why?
"I have report from morning briefing."
Rodney blinked. Ah. So that would be why. Both the guilty look, and his own uneasiness.
He settled for an outward look of annoyance. "Yes? What about it?"
Zelenka hesitated, and handed over his tablet PC. "Major Sheppard has listed repairs to Puddlejumper that must be rectified, and – Doctor Weir is expecting more detailed department report from you when possible."
Rodney nodded. "Anything else?"
Zelenka shuffled ever so slightly. Rodney frowned. "Well? Is there?"
"Is not official business," Zelenka said so quietly Rodney almost didn't hear it.
He cocked his head to one side. "And yet you're bringing it up." He shook his head. "Tell me."
Zelenka sighed and stared down at the floor. "Major Sheppard did not ask where you were."
Rodney tried not to snort. "Well, that's to be expected, since I quit the weekly field trips."
Zelenka pushed his glasses back up his nose. "You are still head of department," he reminded Rodney as firmly as he dared. "You should have been there."
Rodney blinked and waved his hand at the Ancient circuitry lying spread along his worktable. "Strangely enough, I was working. Odd concept for some to grasp, I know, but hey."
When, after half a minute of silence, Zelenka was still standing there, Rodney sighed. "Anything else?" he asked again.
"No," Zelenka replied quietly. "Nothing else." And with that he shuffled away.
"Liar," Rodney muttered to Zelenka's retreating back. He picked up the tablet PC and started reading the notes from the morning briefing, staring at the words, though taking none of it in.
Sheppard hadn't looked for him after the confrontation in the laboratory three days ago.
Sheppard hadn't asked after him.
Sheppard didn't care.
"Neither do I," Rodney said out loud, but by that point there was nobody around to hear him.
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