Chapter Five

Rodney settled back into his train of thought only to have the phone at his desk break through it with its shrill ring. He answered it, probably snappier than the occasion warranted, only to have Langham request his presence in one of the labs. He left the meatloaf that Laverne had prepared for "Carson's nice work friends" on his desk as he reluctantly dragged himself away from his meal. Apparently working lunches were a thing of the past, he thought miserably as he strode into the lab. Langham was hunched over a workstation with one of R&D's chemists.

"McKay, good of you to make it! I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

"Nothing that couldn't wait," Rodney tried to not to sound as put-out as he felt. "Now what was it that you wanted to show me?"

Langham seemed to pick up on his disgruntled mood and just chuckled softly. A spike of annoyance lanced through him but Rodney shoved it down, adjusting his glasses for a better view as his supervisor moved aside to let him take a look at what was laid out on the workstation.

"I thought that after all of your help getting the inertial dampening systems operational, you might be able to offer us some help with our latest challenge."

Curiosity smothered the annoyance, and Rodney watched as the chemist presented a small sample of a dull gray quartz-like material. Its edges were rough, and specks of rock and dirt clung to several of the crevices. He reached out and picked up one of the pieces, holding it up to eye level. It didn't look like anything spectacular.

"And what is this supposed to be?" he asked.

"The power source for the pulse detonation engine, or at least we're hoping it will be," Langham said casually, but he was watching Rodney closely.

"This?" Rodney asked, setting the sample back down. "It's a rock."

"It's metal actually." Langham picked up the discarded sample and held it up. "We call it naquadah."

Rodney blinked. "What?"

"It's a new material we discovered in one of our recent... forays into the wild."

Beckett's mysterious specimen came to mind, something from the "Amazon", or another vague unspecified location somewhere on the planet. He wondered if this material came from the same region, because he had never heard the name Langham had used. "Why haven't I heard anything about it?"

"That's because we discovered it, Dr. McKay."

"And you want to use something that you just discovered in an already experimental aircraft? Before anyone's had a chance to study it properly?"

"We've known about it for years," Langham insisted harshly.

"And you've just been sitting on that?" Rodney knew he had to toe a line here, but it wasn't his job to pretend like none of this bothered him. Hell, it would be more suspicious if he wasn't acting like this. "Why not let the world know about this?"

"Because we can't afford to let our competition get ahead."

"You're holding back science."

"No, Doctor, we're forging the path," Langham pointed his nose in the air, "we're just setting the pace at which we do it."

That whole outlook was not only preposterous, but unethical. Unfortunately, if Rodney didn't reel in his real opinions, he wouldn't keep getting answers. He'd done well by not protesting too much with the damn inertial dampeners, he needed to do the same here. He nervously tapped at one of the buttons on the side of his watch as he stared at the rock, gathering his composure. "I'm afraid I don't see what's so special about this particular piece of rock."

"This is just some of the raw ore we've found," Langham gave Rodney a look, but his tone was still defensive. "Once refined it's able to act as a superconductor, able to focus an enormous amount of energy."

"Really?" Rodney leaned in to take a closer look at the rock, reminding himself to watch his tone. "Even enough to break orbit?"

"Far more than that, Doctor." Langham set the rock back on the table. "Enough energy that we could build ships capable of intersolar travel within a matter of years."

"Intersolar travel? We're still trying to accomplish single-stage-to-orbit. Don't you think you're jumping the gun a little?"

Langham's smile was smarmy, eyes lighting up greedily. "Not one bit."

Rodney couldn't afford another flip out, especially with Langham handing out answers like candy. However with the current technology, intersolar travel was probably barely within Rodney's lifetime. This was more than just a simple step to the future; it was a giant frigging leap. His reaction to that bit of news would probably determine how much more Langham was willing to share.

"I'll believe it when I see it," which was a lie, but that's who he was here. He might as well pander to it. "If you've known about this rock for so long, why have you introduced it as fuel for your jet into the project so late? At Boeing they would—"

"We're not Boeing, Dr. McKay," Langham interrupted him. "I know we do things differently here, but I was hoping that you might learn to be a team player."

Crap. He needed to fix this.

"I'm trying," Rodney insisted, "believe me, I'm trying."

That seemed to do the trick, because Langham admitted reluctantly, "We've only had a small amount of naquadah that we have been working with downstairs." Downstairs, downstairs, downstairs. Rodney was really starting to hate that word. "It's not an easy material to acquire. It's quite rare."

"And unknown," Rodney remarked and crossed his arms. "How do we know it's safe to put in the engine?"

"We're hoping that you might be able to help us out with that."

"I can't help you people if you don't trust me enough to even show me what I'm supposed to be working with."

"Trust has to be earned," Langham's voice dripped with disdain, "and we're slow to trust."

"I've gotten that impression," Rodney said carefully.

"You're going to work with Dr. Kavanagh here for the next few weeks." Langham indicated the pony-tailed, bespectacled chemist who was meticulously packing up the naquadah sample. "Hopefully together you two can come to a solution in time for the first ground test."

"That's in less than three weeks!"

"Then I hope you'll focus your time on that." Langham pinned him with a stare. "I think you should also cut back your update meetings with Sheppard and Murphy to once a week. You don't need to bog them down with all of the tiny details until you're closer to implementation."

Or tell them what he knew without Langham's permission. He was being let into the loop here, and he needed to play his cards right. "Of course."

"Good. I'll take care of notifying Zelenka that he and his team will need to do without your assistance." Langham escorted him to the edge of the lab. "And don't worry about informing Flight Test, we'll take care of that."

"Thank you," Rodney replied mechanically as they reached the door and started to go their separate ways.

"Oh, and Dr. McKay?"

"Yes?"

"Let's hope you keep up the good work."

Rodney nodded, and quickly made his way back to his office. He kept his head ducked low, and almost didn't notice the other person in the hallway until they almost collided.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"That's quite all right, Doctor," Marrick's smooth voice cut in.

Rodney froze involuntarily. "Oh, hello, Marrick."

"Did Langham introduce you to the naquadah?"

"Yes," Rodney swallowed, "it's very interesting."

"Only interesting?" Marrick quirked an eyebrow. On Sheppard, the action was infuriating, usually because it was mocking something Rodney had just said. On Marrick it was almost menacing and caused his heart to start beating in double-time.

"And exciting," Rodney added quickly. "Very exciting and new."

"That it is," the other man agreed leaning in close. "Langham has high hopes for you."

Rodney involuntarily took a step backward to try and maintain his personal space. "I don't know about that..."

"Neither do I." Marrick matched Rodney step for step, hovering just inside his personal space. "Your past association with the Air Force concerns me."

"You're developing this plane for the Air Force," Rodney stammered as he continued to backpedal. "I don't understand why it's a concern, especially since I don't talk to them anymore."

"Don't you?"

"No," Rodney insisted harder, feeling some conviction set in, "I don't. Not after the way they treated me."

"And what way was that?"

Rodney had been backed into the wall at this point, and he had his arms crossed in front of his chest as Marrick hovered just inches away. "I don't have to put up with this."

"It's just a question."

"A very personal and invasive question that has nothing to do with the security of this building."

"I told you, I have the company's interests in mind."

"And why would the company be concerned about my severed ties to the Air Force? Their biggest customer I might add!"

A shadow crossed Marrick's face, and Rodney tensed. That had probably been the wrong thing to say. Rodney was completely cut off from the rest of the world in this building. If the company decided he was a threat, chances were he'd never make it out alive—and no one would know until he missed his next check-in. He was completely and hopelessly alone.

"Is there a problem here?"

Sheppard stood a few feet away, arms hanging loosely at his side, one hand unconsciously reaching for a sidearm that was not there. Marrick's hard stare tracked from Rodney to the interloper, but he did not move or shift from his position trapping Rodney against the wall.

"Problem?" Marrick pinned Rodney with a cold stare. "Do we have a problem, Dr. McKay?"

"No," Rodney said quietly, "no problem at all."

Sheppard looked unconvinced, one hand flexing into a fist at his side, eyes narrowing at Marrick. "Then why don't you let him breathe a little?"

"Sure," Marrick said amiably and pushed away from the wall and Rodney couldn't stop the relieved sigh from escaping. It only earned him another long look. "You'll keep what I said in mind, won't you, Doctor?"

Rodney sucked in a sharp breath, unable to school his reaction completely, and he could see Sheppard's shoulders tensing up at the continued confrontation. He took a step backward, hoping to put a little distance between them before Marrick decided he wanted to renew their "close" acquaintance.

"Hrm?" Marrick prompted.

"You know," Sheppard butt in, drawing Marrick's attention, "it always made my knuckles itch back in grade school when the bullies picked on the kids with glasses."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me," Marrick sneered. "Sort of like minding your own business?"

"From what I overheard it sounds like that might be a problem for you as well," Sheppard shot back coolly.

Marrick and Sheppard continued their standoff, fingers twitching toward invisible sidearms and brows narrowing in contempt.

"It's not nice to eavesdrop, Sheppard."

"Not very nice to pin people against the wall either."

They circled each other like two dogs sizing up each other for a fight, snarling and snapping at the air, just waiting for the other to make the first move. Metaphorically, Sheppard blinked first as he took up the position Marrick had vacated, directly positioning himself between Rodney and the other man.

"So," Sheppard drawled, "guess we'll see you around. Right, Marrick?"

Marrick pursed his lips. "Yes, you will."

"Fantastic."

It was almost like Sheppard was trying to... trying to... defend him against the perceived threat.

Rodney's chest tightened when the thought struck him, a harsh twisting like someone was tightening a vice around his ribcage. He watched with wide eyes as Sheppard smirked sarcastically, causing Marrick's face to pinch in annoyance.

"You most certainly will," he promised before executing an about face and stalking off down the hall.

Sheppard waited until the other man was out of sight before turning to face Rodney. "You all right?"

Rodney blinked. "What—why would you do that?"

"It didn't look like you were enjoying the conversation," Sheppard stated as he tossed a dark look over his shoulder, "and I've never cared for bullies much."

"But why—what are you doing here?"

"Carson thought I might have driven you off—he told me to apologize."

"And you just do what he says?"

"He wouldn't share any more of Laverne's leftovers if I didn't," Sheppard said lightly, but his eyes betrayed a concern that made absolutely no sense. "You're a little pale. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I don't understand," Rodney shook his head, wrapping his arms around his chest, "what do you care?"

The question seemed to take Sheppard aback, and he fumbled for a few seconds. "I don't know."

"You just—you could have just made an enemy out of that guy. You should have walked on. There was no need—"

"McKay—"

"No! I don't get you, you just... you shouldn't care."

"I don't..." Sheppard started, but stopped himself before Rodney could tell if the next word was going to be "care", "know", or something else entirely. Instead he laid a hand on Rodney's shoulder and offered a tentative smile. "C'mon, let's blow off the rest of the day. You look like you really need a drink."

It was tempting; too tempting actually. He could easily lose himself for several hours in a bottomless glass of beer and not have to think about naquadah, or phone tapping, or even pretending to be someone he wasn't—although he'd still be pretending, wouldn't he? Up until a few minutes ago, Rodney had been convinced that he and Sheppard shared a mutual dislike for one another. You just don't step into the fire for someone you can't stand.

Rodney had grown used to people using him for his brain, trying to curry favor with him so he might do something for them in return. Duty, science, work—these things he understood. Friendship for the sake of friendship? He wasn't sure that existed. Yet here was John Sheppard, stepping in between him and the corporate bullies, trying to reach out, offering to buy him a beer, and—and they didn't like each other, and they weren't friends, and this made no sense.

"Go away," Rodney pulled away. "I've got work to do."

"McKay..."

"Just leave me alone," he muttered and made a quick retreat towards his office, wondering if Sheppard would try and follow him.

He didn't.

The bottle Rodney raised to his lips did not taste like anything he would consider beer, but it had alcohol and that's all that counted. His companion sitting next to him either didn't notice, or decided not to comment on the fact that his hand was shaking.

"I don't think it'll be a secret for too much longer," Rodney murmured softly, his voice barely carrying past the rest of the bar noise, "since whenever they show me something it shows up on your radar a few days later."

"The inertial dampeners were definitely interesting."

"That's one word for it—seeing as how that technology had only been theoretical up until a month ago. Hell, it's still theoretical to the world until they see fit to share it with anyone other than the Air Force." Rodney glared petulantly at the bar. "Should I mention how interesting it is that my own hypothetical equations were some of the basis for the actual equations? Kind of like the engine is a lot like the one I was working on at Nellis?"

"It's why they wanted you."

"I really don't like this."

"I'm sorry," the other man said softly before changing the subject. "The specs we were shown were a little different from yours."

"How so?"

"Dumbed down according to our girl."

"Well, she would know. It should be her in there."

"They'd never approach her, you know that."

"Lucky her."

"What's the new stuff?"

"Something else they've supposedly been sitting on for years, just like they were supposedly working on the inertial dampeners before I ever published any of my theories on it."

"Really?"

"It's a new fuel source," Rodney mumbled into his beer, "something called naquadah."

"Never heard of it."

"Me neither," Rodney took a long swig, grimacing at the bitter taste. "From all the stuff Kavanagh has shown me so far, I'm not..."

"Not what?"

"I'm not sure it's from this planet, as insane as that sounds."

"Why?"

"It's able to interact with neutrinos."

"Is that bad?"

"Oh, it's good, it's very good. It means that as a superconductor it can store and convert several different forms of energy, and without using up much of the element at all. In fact, the amount we're using in the new engine is miniscule."

"Do you have a sample?"

"Are you kidding? I barely get to touch the stuff! They're so tight fisted on their supply I'd have had more luck trying to smuggle intel across the Berlin Wall during the Cold War."

The other man's lips twitched into a smile. "Not a bad reference."

"I'm so glad I can amuse you as I put my life on the line!"

"Keep it down."

"Look, there's no way I can get my hands on it. I'm being watched too closely, at least in the building."

"Just see if you can get some tests run and get us some images of the results. We'll probably get a look at some later when they give us the latest update. Just don't attract attention to yourself, whatever you do."

"Oh, a little late for that," Rodney announced bitterly.

"What do you mean?" The other man tensed up. "Do they—"

"No. We wouldn't be having this conversation if they did, because I'd be dead. You know that."

"That's not a funny thing to say."

"It wasn't a joke," Rodney angrily took another chug of his beer. "I told you, they're watching me like a hawk. Marrick practically interrogated me the other day."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. It didn't get very far." Rodney stared ahead blankly. "Sheppard showed up and put a stop to it."

"Sheppard." The man tested the name, as if it were almost familiar. "Is he the guy from the diner?"

"Yes, my neighbor slash stalker. One and the same."

"That wouldn't be John Sheppard, would it?"

"Yes, it would," Rodney slid a look at him. "Why?"

"Thought I remembered seeing his name on the project's list," the other man muttered. "He was a pilot for the Air Force, a damn good one too."

"Obviously not good enough if he was let go."

"If it's the same Sheppard I'm thinking of, there wasn't much left of his career to save." His drinking companion took a cautious sip of his own beer. "He went against orders to get a man behind enemy lines. It wound up eventually costing him his commission."

"I was under the impression that officers couldn't be brought up on a dishonorable discharge."

"I believe the polite term is 'usher out'." The other man paused. "I'm still surprised Vertrauen hired him on. I don't see them trusting his type. You know—loyal, military."

"You're telling me. Marrick just about had kittens because of my ties to the Air Force."

"That's the important thing here, not Sheppard. You need to keep your head low."

"You don't think I know that?" Rodney kept his voice low, but the conviction behind the statement fierce. "I don't want to end up fished out of the reservoir like Dr. Peterson."

That earned him a sympathetic look. "We're doing our best to keep you safe."

"And doing a pretty crappy job of that if I die because there's no way to get a hold of you if something goes wrong."

"You have my number memorized, don't you?"

"Of course!"

"Use that if you think you're in trouble. We'll get you out."

"Yeah, right."

"McKay, we're not going to let anything happen to you."

"You say that now, but you won't be there the next time Marrick decides to start putting on the pressure."

"Just hang in there a little longer."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really."

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

John watched his cell phone light up as it indicated an incoming call, same number flashing on the caller ID. It trilled once, phone jittering in his hand as it vibrated with the ring.

He wasn't sure how it had happened, or even when it had happened, but apparently somewhere along the way in the past few weeks he may have grown something akin to fondness for McKay. Calling him a friend was probably too strong of a word, especially as it seemed that the scientist was determined to keep him at arm's length. John had almost thought that they had almost found some sort of common ground, but that last confrontation with Marrick had made things worse rather than better.

The now-weekly update meetings on the progress of the engine were no longer solo affairs, but involved both Murphy and Langham. McKay was short, brief, and to-the-point to all of their questions on the viability of this new fuel source. The only emotion he had been able to discern from McKay was a small flicker of relief when Murphy announced he was pushing back the ground test another week until they got some concrete numbers to work with.

A second trill echoed through the silent office but John just held the phone in his hand, making no move to answer.

John had even accidentally run into the other man at the grocery store, but McKay had walked by without an outraged sputter, an accusation of stalking, or even a snide comment on the way John was "feeling up" the cantaloupes he was considering buying. Even more surprising than the silent treatment was the pang of disappointment John felt as McKay walked on by like he hadn't even seen him.

A third ring echoed through the office, one more and the call would be routed to voicemail. Halfway through the fourth ring John snapped the phone open and held it up to his ear. It took several seconds before he trusted his voice enough to speak.

"Hey." Involuntarily his fingers clutched the phone tighter as the voice on the other end greeted him. "No, I'm not too busy to talk."

"That's a change," the deep voice of his brother rumbled across the line, not quite friendly but not as angry as it had been the last time he had heard it three years ago. "It's good to hear your voice, John."

"Yeah, Dave, it's been a while." He closed his eyes as the hard knot in his stomach twisted a little, but thankfully his voice remained steady. "Sorry I kept missing your calls. It's been a little busy around here."

He wished he could suddenly hang up, knowing he was not ready for this, but he was trapped into finishing the conversation now.

Maybe it was for the best. He had to stop running from this confrontation at some point before it was too late to fix things with his family. It felt wrong, deep down in his gut because he knew they hadn't changed. However he had to try—before he wound up completely alone.

"So... how's Dad?"

"There you are!"

Rodney looked up, glasses slipping down from their precarious perch on his nose as he peered at the person bursting into his office, shoulders tense and ready for battle with—a tin-foil wrapped square?

"Carson?"

"Don't you 'Carson' me," the Scot shot him a stern look. "Is this where you've been hiding?"

"Hiding?" Rodney pushed the glasses back to their proper resting place and dropped the physics journal he'd been perusing to the desk. "I'm not hiding."

"Of course you are." Carson crossed his arms. "Why I can't figure out. You have got to be positively one of the most baffling people I've ever met in my life."

"Is this going to take long? I've got a lot of work to make sure the new engine doesn't, you know, blow up in two weeks when we have our first test."

Carson looked around the office, gaze focusing on the opened can of beef stew that Rodney had grabbed that morning in a rush. "And you're eating this rubbish again."

"I don't have time to cook a hearty meal! I'm too busy trying to—"

"Kill yourself with overworking and exhaustion, yes I can see that!"

"I've done a good job of staying alive for thirty-six years without your unsolicited medical advice. I think I'll manage a little while longer."

Carson bristled, raising his tin-wrapped square to bear as if that might fend off the sarcasm. "I don't know what happened between you and John, but don't you think shutting yourself in your office is a little extreme?"

"What?" Rodney frowned. "I'm not—"

"Not that I can get him to say anything on the matter other than 'he's not trying to run me over anymore', which for some reason I can't understand is a bad thing."

"So suddenly safe driving is something to be ashamed of?"

"I don't know!" Carson roared. "The only thing I know for certain is that you both are sulking like a couple of schoolyard children over something I'm not sure either of you understands."

"What does it matter to you?"

"I don't like to see my friends hurting, especially over something that's so bloody stupid."

"We're not—"

"Yes, Rodney, you're my friend; both of you are. I don't know why that's such a difficult concept to grasp since you obviously can understand far more complex things in the universe." The Scot let out a ragged sigh, and dropped the square on the desk. "Laverne made extra banana bread the other day. I figured you might need something fresher than the Twinkies from the vending machine to sustain you during your quest into the scientific wilderness."

Rodney's mouth worked silently. For once, he was unable to come up with a coherent, snide reply.

"And get some sleep, lad." Carson gave him a long, concerned look. "You look horrible."

Rodney swallowed heavily as the Scot quietly made his way out. He stared at the wrapped snack bread as if it might suddenly come alive and bite him. Tentatively, he reached out and pulled the foil aside enough to pinch off a small piece that turned out to be buttery and full of flavor. He quickly rewrapped it, shoving it into his bag before he dove back into his work. He didn't have time for these distractions. He was on a deadline.