Chapter 12: Gemæd

Beep, beep, beep…

That was starting to get annoying. He was hovering in that weird place between being asleep and waking up, and he desperately wanted to remain in the former condition. He was warm and surprisingly comfortable, feeling himself drifting again.

Beep, beep, beep.

Damn sound! Not only that, but now there were people talking, much too loudly for his liking. What was wrong with them? Couldn't they see that he was trying to sleep?!

A memory flitted through his mind – blood, rubble and seemingly endless explosions. Confused and panicked, he struggled to get up, to open his eyes…

"Rodney?"

He knew that voice. Strong hands held him down and unthinkingly, he started to fight.

"Ronon, get Beckett!"

"Get… get off…" he whispered. "Gotta get… out…"

"Rodney, lad? Can you hear me?" asked another voice, with a strange, lilting accent.

"I think he's dreaming, doc."

"C'mon, little man. Open your eyes."

He tried with all his strength and was rewarded when his eyes cracked open fractionally. Blurry figures stood in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a harsh gasp.

"Easy, son. You're safe now."

Blinking, he found Carson staring down at him.

"Cars'n?"

"Aye, Rodney, that's my name." He smiled warmly and produced his pen light, flashing it in McKay's eyes, much to the annoyance of the physicist.

"Dammit, pack it in!" the Canadian groused weakly, trying and failing to push the offending item away.

"Feeling better then?" asked John, grinning at him from his own cot next door.

"Mmm," McKay replied non-committally before letting out a relieved sigh. He was in Atlantis and therefore safe. John was safe too, and for the time being, that meant that all was right with the world. "How… how long have I been out?" he asked, wincing as his throat twinged painfully.

Teyla stepped closer with a cup of ice chips. "You have been unconscious for almost a week, Rodney," she replied softly, placing a chip into his mouth. "We were all very worried." Behind her, Ronon pulled a face.

"I wasn't," the Satedan replied. "I knew he'd wake up eventually. His stomach won't let him stay down for long."

"That's very funny," Rodney muttered, but smiled softly as he saw the grin on his team-mate's face. He glanced across to John's bed, wincing as the stitches in his head pulled uncomfortably. "You okay?"

Sheppard smirked. "Yeah, McKay, I'm good." He let out a relieved sigh.

When Rodney hadn't woken up, fear and panic had gripped him tightly. He'd feared the worst when Carson had told them that the Canadian was in a coma, but apparently, it was the least of their problems.

Not surprisingly, both men had internal bleeding and cracked ribs. McKay had been in surgery for over twelve hours – once they'd managed to re-start his heart. The trip back through the Gate had been too much for the scientist's abused body to take and he'd coded when they arrived back in the city. Carson and his team had worked their voodoo magic though, and after the surgery, it was the familiar waiting game to see when Rodney would open his eyes.

The first couple of times, the man hadn't really been awake as such, but John didn't care. As far as he was concerned, it meant that McKay would be alright.

The Colonel marvelled at the faith possessed by the Scotsman. No matter how bad the situation seemed, Carson was always optimistic and had pulled off more miracles than John could recount. It still amazed him at how calm Beckett was whenever he had to treat his friends – the professional mask would slam down and the only hint of worry and concern would be a small glint in the physician's eyes. Sheppard doubted that he'd be able to act so rationally if their roles were reversed.

"What… what about your legs?" asked Rodney, looking concerned.

John smiled. "Broke the right one, but it was neat. I'll be on crutches for a while, though." He grinned mischievously. "Still, that means that I'll have an extra weapon handy."

"Your back's okay, then?" McKay was struggling to keep up with where the conversation was headed as his body started to rebel.

"Colonel Sheppard will be up and about in no time," Carson assured him. "The rock fall just caused some deep muscular bruising and inflammation of his spinal column."

"But… but you said you couldn't feel them," Rodney insisted, groaning slightly as a spark of pain shot through his shoulder.

"Trapped a nerve," John replied. He looked at his friend closely, worried by what he saw. "Doc?"

"Aye, lad, I saw." Carson was leaning down over Rodney in an instant, concern darkening his face. "Rodney? Is your shoulder sore?"

McKay rolled his eyes. "No, it's just peachy thanks," he snapped. "Sorry," he added as he realised that his last sentence had come out slightly more vehemently than he'd meant it to.

Beckett produced a needle and injected the contents into the scientist's IV line. "There you go, son. Some of the 'good drugs' you and Colonel Sheppard seem to like so much." He gave them a knowing grin.

Rodney sighed in relief as the medication kicked in. "That's better," he mumbled. "Feels good. So come on then. How bad is it?"

Carson chuckled. "You won't be terrorising your minions for a while, I'm afraid. You've broken your left arm and dislocated the shoulder too."

Rodney glanced down at the heavy plaster cast surrounding his arm and frowned. That was going to be a right royal pain in the…

"Not to mention the fifty stitches that are holding your side together," added John, trying to sound light-hearted.

"You will be fine," Teyla assured him, gently smoothing down his wayward hair. "You have also had a concussion, but you will be well enough to leave in a few days."

"What about that… head thing?" asked Ronon. "You know," he added, seeing the puzzled looks from his friends, "the machine that scrambled the little man's brain?"

"It didn't scramble anything," Rodney grumped. "I'm still just as smart as before." He looked at Carson nervously. "I am, aren't I?"

"Aye, Rodney, you're still a genius." The physician sighed and shoved his hands into his lab coat pockets. "From what Radek was able to gather, the dais that you activated was a deliberate trap. He said that in order to access the deeper parts of the outpost, it would have to be activated to restore the power."

"I already know that part, thank you."

Beckett looked skyward, as if praying for some kind of divine intervention. "It would have caused a similar effect in anyone carrying the ATA gene, but to a lesser degree."

"Hang on, doc," Sheppard interrupted. "You're saying that it messed Rodney up so much because his gene is artificial?"

Carson nodded. "Precisely. It would have given you a shock if you'd tried it, but because Rodney's gene is not natural, it caused the infernal machine to react more violently." His eyes narrowed and he glared at McKay pointedly. "You were lucky, son," he said quietly. "If Colonel Sheppard had nae have tackled you when he did, we would nae be having this conversation. As it stands, the trembling you were experiencing has already worn off and the headache should ease in a few hours."

McKay paled at the thought and swallowed heavily. "Whoa," he muttered, picking absently at the hem of his blanket. "I guess I should thank you then."

John grinned. "'S alright, McKay. You can make it up to me."

Rodney did not like the sound of that. "I'm not doing your laundry, Sheppard," he growled. "Or any other menial tasks for that matter. I only have so much gratitude, you know. And besides, I'm injured here, pal." Turning back to Carson, he gave his friend a worried look. "There aren't going to be any lasting effects or anything, are there?"

The Scotsman shook his head. "No. You'll be back to normal in no time. Well," he smirked wickedly, "as normal as you can be, anyway."

Everyone laughed as Rodney muttered obscenities involving sheep under his breath.

"Right then. You've seen him and the Colonel, so shoo," Carson said, flapping his arms at Teyla and Ronon. "Go on with you. They need to rest. You can come back later."

Teyla turned and started to walk out of the infirmary, but Ronon bent down next to McKay. "Get well, little man," he said quietly in a rare display of affection for his team-mate. He dug into a pocket and produced a tub of blue jello and a spoon. "Snagged it for you," he said by way of explanation as Rodney gave him a puzzled glance. "Had to fight off Lorne and Zelenka for it, so you owe me big time."

"Thanks," Rodney replied, smiling in his usual lop-sided manner. "We can discuss repayment later. I might be able to get my hands on some popcorn…"

Ronon laughed and straightened, nodded to Sheppard and set off after Teyla.

Sheppard turned slightly to get a better look at McKay – which was easier said than done as his leg was still elevated in a sling. "So, buddy, you okay?"

Rodney blinked a couple of times at the ceiling and turned his head in the pilot's direction. "I will be," he replied. "As soon as I can get back to work." He grimaced, but not from pain. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I should've listened to you."

John shrugged non-committally. "The day you do that, the whole world will go to hell," he said, grinning. "Besides, it wasn't your fault and we've already had this conversation. End of discussion."

McKay nodded, looking grateful. "So when are you getting sprung?"

The Colonel frowned. "Not 'til you are," he said. "Although, we could always stage a breakout."

"And miss out on the good drugs? Are you insane?" asked Rodney. "Honestly, Sheppard, I thought I was the one who was supposed to be concussed."

Sheppard smiled. "You have a fair and very valid point there, Dr McKay," he said. "Although I have some ideas for what to do to pass the time."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," McKay shot back, grinning. "And I expect most of them involve some form of juvenile behaviour."

"I'm insulted by that. Spit wads are not juvenile."

"Yeah, and Beckett's neon pink." Rodney closed his eyes and let out a contented hum as the painkillers pulled him back into sleep.

___________________________________________________________________________

A week later, Sheppard and McKay had been released from Carson's mother-hen like clutches under strict instructions that they were returning to light duties only. Both men had readily agreed without any arguments, remembering the last time they'd defied such a request – those needles had been enormous.

They were currently sat in the rec room, trying to decide which DVD to watch to pass the time. Before the friendly argument could become heated (McKay wanted to watch Doctor Who Season Four, while Sheppard was vying for Star Wars – Return of the Jedi), Elizabeth came in, flanked by Carson, Teyla and Ronon.

"Gentlemen," she said. "I trust you're obeying your doctor's orders this time?"

Both boys nodded ferverently.

"Good." She moved over to the free couch and curled up on it – the others did similarly, and soon, the gang were all comfortable. "I was going over the data on Gemæd," she said conversationally.

Rodney's eyes lit up. "Yeah? Did it tell you why he was a total nut job?"

She smiled tightly. "Not in so many words, I'm afraid, but I did find something interesting."

"Gonna share?" asked John, tilting his head. He shifted his foot slightly on the stool, trying to stop the edge of the cast from digging into his leg. "Or are we about to play Twenty Questions?"

"I knew that the name 'Gemæd' was familiar," Weir replied, "but I couldn't work out where I'd heard it."

"So?" asked Ronon, who had managed to snag the boys' popcorn bowl. "It's just a name, right?"

"Actually, it's a little more than that. The word 'Gemæd' comes from old English. It means 'deprived of reason'."

"Figures," Rodney snorted. "I was right. Whack job, all the way."

"Aye," Carson agreed. "And 'Gemæd' was formed from 'Gemãd', meaning 'irrational'."

"So does this mean anything or are we talking about the mother of all coincidences here, then?" asked Sheppard.

Elizabeth smiled wanly. "It turns out that Gemæd wasn't his birth name, but was more…"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me. It was a nickname?" asked McKay incredulously.

Carson nodded. "Aye, lad. It's like the Ancient equivalent of calling someone 'dorkweed'."

"Nice analogy, doc," Sheppard replied, grinning. "Never would've guessed you were really twelve years old."

"So what else did you find?" asked Rodney, whose interest was now well and truly piqued. He focused his attention on the girls and Ronon, choosing to ignore the whispered bitching coming from the Air Force man and Head of Medicine.

"Gemæd was thought to be insane," Teyla replied. "His fellow scientists actually banished him to M4R-924 to try and prevent him from harming anyone."

"Dorkweed?! C'mon, doc, you can do better than that. What about dickwad?"

Rodney smacked John with a pillow. "Shut up, Sheppard, I'm trying to talk to the adults in the room. Does that mean that the Zed PM research was…?"

"Haud yer wheesht, ya radge Yankee bastard…"

The pillow was lobbed at Beckett, catching the Scotsman on the ear. "Carson, shut up!"

"False," Ronon grunted, rolling his eyes at the physician's last comment. "He made it up, stole some other dude's notes."

"You mean that the outpost was a deliberate trap?" asked John, shocked enough to cease his fight with Beckett.

Carson nodded. "Aye, and a damn good one at that," he said, his voice dark. "We're just lucky that the chair didn't cause as much damage as it could have."

"But why?" asked McKay. "What was the point? I mean I could understand if it was designed to take out the Wraith, but we were the only ones who could get it." He pointed between the Air Force man and himself.

Elizabeth sighed. "I honestly don't know," she said. "Then again, all we're certain of is that Gemæd was branded as dangerous because he insisted on performing dangerous experiments to do with the ATA gene, or at least, it's equivalent in the Ancients." She grimaced. "All we have is two different sets of opinions and not a lot of proof."

"I believe we should leave it at that," Teyla announced.

"That explains the feedback," McKay muttered, rubbing his temples at the memory. "Rat bastard."

"Insane rat bastard," Sheppard agreed.

There was a short silence as the information sunk in.

"So, there's still a chance that we can find the actual outpost?" asked John.

"I would say so, yes," Weir replied. "But it may take a while. We have no way of knowing just how much of the database Gemæd managed to corrupt."

McKay looked at Sheppard. "Oh, I think we can afford to wait," he said slyly, grinning. He turned his gaze to the ex-runner. "Oi! Give us our popcorn back, Conan."

"Come and get it," the Satedan shot back, with a feral smile.

"You're asking for it," Sheppard warned.

"Is that supposed to make me worried?"

The boys looked at each other again and nodded. "On three," John said quietly. "One, two, THREE!"

The popcorn went flying as Ronon found himself under fire from a volley of cushions and pillows.

All thoughts of insane Ancients and ZPMs were soon forgotten as the pillow fight reached a new level. Amid the carnage, Sheppard smiled. His team was safe and more or less in one piece. It had been a close call this time, but somehow, they'd managed to get away with it by the skin of their teeth.

Laughter and muffled curses filled the rec room as the fight continued.

-FIN-

Gaelic Translations:

A Dhia – Oh God

Mo Chara – My friend

Czech Translations:

Muj boze – My God

Zatracene -- Shit

Zkurvysyn – Son of a bitch

Priteli – My friend

Ano – Yes

Ne - No