A/N: John, meet Rodney. And, um, yeah - he's always like that...
Chapter 8
As John sat his water down he could see two people approaching their table. One was Dr. Keller, the other a pasty guy with a high hairline, stubble, and a crooked mouth set in an irritated grimace. His BDU's were the blue and khaki, the flag on his sleeve Canadian, and it looked like he may have slept in his clothes. The two guards stood as if to intercept, and when Lorne noticed John was looking past him he turned briefly. He nodded to the guards and they resumed their seat. "Hey, docs," Lorne said as they stopped by the end of the table.
"Major," Keller said. Rodney offered a shoulder twitch and a quick wave. She looked at John and smiled sweetly. "Glad to see your appetite is okay."
John nodded and smiled back at her. "Do they allow seconds?" he asked as he glanced between Lorne and Keller.
"If you smile nicely at Doris, she will let you through again," Lorne replied.
"Hey, she doesn't give me seconds," Rodney said. "Even when I smile at her."
"That's because your smile makes her think you're constipated," Ronon rumbled and smirked.
Rodney's crooked mouth fell open and he said, "Does not."
"And the last time they served lemon chicken, you had her in tears," Keller said.
Rodney's finger came up. "Now that is a legitimate concern," he sputtered out. "She knows how allergic I am to citrus. I had to take an antihistamine just from smelling that."
Everyone laughed at him and John felt the mood around the table get very relaxed. He even found himself smiling a little at what were obviously good friends. Rodney continued to look indignant, but John could tell he really wasn't. Well, not too much, anyway. Then he felt something shift, and he glanced up at the doctor. She was frowning down at him.
"What happened to your hand?" she asked. Then she glanced at Ronon and took in the split lip. "What did you do?"
Ronon lifted his hands in surrender and shook his head. "Nothing. Honest."
"Uh huh," Keller replied and didn't sound like she believed him. She held her hand out for John's, and he complied. She noted what looked like tooth marks and shook her head. "I want you to stop by the infirmary after dinner, get that cleaned," she said as she let go of John's hand. "I don't have to remind you how many germs there are in a human mouth, do I?"
John waited for some kind of reaction to the human comment, but nothing was said. "No, doc," he replied and his smile was the easiest one he'd had in awhile.
"Good," Keller replied. She lowered her chin and pointed at Ronon. "You, too – I mean it."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied quickly.
John could feel something pass between them. It was subtle, but it was there. And it made him feel a little sad. These people all had a great rapport, some possibly even more so, and he was just the freak on the outside, eavesdropping. Intruding. His smiled faded completely.
Keller noticed and gave his forearm where it rested on the table a brief squeeze. "John, I'd like you to meet Dr. Rodney McKay, our Head Geek."
Rodney sort of slumped and glowered at Lorne. "Why did you have to go and call me that? Now I'm stuck with it."
"Well, you did call me the Head Goon," Lorne said. "Only fitting."
John chuffed, and there was a brief silence. He immediately held a hand out to Rodney. "Nice to meetcha, McKay." Then an uncomfortable silence fell over the table as Rodney just stared at John's slightly bruised and bloody knuckled hand with something resembling horror.
Lorne broke the silence, his tone light. "The doc doesn't like to shake hands." Then he mouthed the word germs. John raised his eyebrows and pulled his hand back slowly.
Rodney squirmed a little. "Yeah. Um, sorry. Do it to everybody." He gave an odd little jaw thrust and a nervous little laugh. "Nice to meet you, too, Sheppard."
For some reason John didn't really feel offended by Rodney's little phobia. He knew a few people like that back in Libby – you could always spot them by the little bottle of hand sanitizer hanging off their keys or purse.
"So, they treating you okay?" Rodney said. And the second it left his mouth his eyes got a little wide and he looked vaguely ill.
Now a really uncomfortable silence fell over the table. "For the moment," John growled. Then he cleared his throat, gestured at his empty plate, and said in a totally different tone, "Say, mind if I go get seconds now?"
"As long as you don't mind Stevenson going up with you," Lorne said.
"Don't have a choice, do I?" John said with a grimace.
Lorne shook his head and offered an apologetic shrug.
John sighed and stood, and one of the guards got up as well. "'Scuze me," he said to Keller, and when he and his escort were a couple tables away he could hear Rodney repeating stupid over and over again. Wasn't his fault. When he got back to the line, he gave Doris his best smile, and damn if she didn't blush a little as she filled another plate for him. He grabbed some coffee before heading back, and when he sat down he could feel the mood around the table had eased up again. John just nodded at everyone and focused on his meatloaf.
"Lorne told us that was you that hit the doors earlier." Keller said a bit incredulously. "Are you okay?"
John squirmed a little. "I'm fine," he said. He had a feeling the bruises in the morning were going to be interesting, and he wondered if he'd be able to see the tread pattern of Ronon's boot on his stomach like some strange tribal tattoo. "Just mildly tenderized." He saw Keller flash Ronon a reproachful frown that made him glad he wasn't on the receiving end. All Ronon did was laugh. While the others snickered at that, he concentrated on the meatloaf and enjoyed it this time. A couple of times he knew he rolled his eyes, but he just couldn't help it. Damn, that and the gravy were awesome.
"Ah, should we be leaving you two alone?" Rodney said. He was smirking, up until John flipped him off in mid chew.
There was a moment of shocked silence, then snickers all around. Apparently no one did that to Rodney's face.
-oOo-
It was quite the interesting little parade to the infirmary after dinner – Keller, Rodney, Ronon, John, and of course John's two heavily armed shadows. They got a lot of odd looks, most of them directed at John, but nobody said a word. He could pick up the unease, but stronger than that at the moment was just plain old curiosity. That helped keep his dinner from kicking. He made the mistake of asking Rodney just what he was a doctor of while he ate his dessert, and nearly twenty minutes later, he was still hearing about Rodney's credentials and accomplishments.
"Then I spent five years at Area 51 – yes, you heard right – where I single handedly figured out how to reverse engineer the … um, ah, yeah. I can't talk about that. Top secret." Rodney grimaced, then in the next instant he was snapping his fingers in rapid succession. "Oh, then there's the propulsion system for the … crap! Can't talk about that, either. Dammit. And that is just so totally cool, too." He looked positively crestfallen.
John glanced at Keller, and she had to hide a giggle at his wide eyed, slightly freaked grimace. "So, what other things can't you talk about," he drawled. "Let's hear about them." That made her giggle out loud.
Rodney glowered at John. "Oh, har har." Ronon chuckled, and Rodney sighed. "Don't encourage him, Chewie."
John glanced back at Ronon. "Chewie?" He felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he faced forward again. "Yeah, I can see that." They turned into the infirmary, and John noticed there were a few more people in the first area than there were before. Most of them looked like staff, but he did see one woman hobbling out of another room, her foot in one of those boot contraptions. And every one of them glanced curiously at the group as they walked on through and past the gal with the sprained ankle. The two guards took up position at the door and Keller directed John to one of six exam tables. He hopped up while she opened a cabinet for supplies.
And Rodney was still with them.
"Why are you still here?" John asked.
Rodney twitched and glanced around in surprise, and it was easy to tell he was asking himself the same thing. Then he lit up and raised a finger. "I needed to talk to Carson." Then he was gone, just like that.
John sighed. "He's a strange one. But amusing in a, I don't know, runaway train kind of way," he said. Ronon nodded his head in agreement. "How does his head fit through the doors?"
Keller laughed as she sat some supplies on the table. "Don't ask him – he's liable to go into some big long involved thing about quantum space and how light bends and God knows what else." She pulled on some gloves and started cleaning his knuckles. "When was your last tetanus shot?"
John frowned. "Six years ago. I think. Yeah, six." Then he hissed when she scrubbed the dried blood off and the disinfectant got into the scrape.
"You're good then," she said and finished up. Then she turned on Ronon as she snapped her gloves off. "Okay, buster, let's see that lip." He started to protest so she grabbed his chin. No – actually she grabbed his goatee and made him bend down since she had to be a foot shorter than him, easily. She had him open his mouth, then she turned his head, frowned, and declared it fine and not in need of stitches.
Ronon straightened back up and flashed John a smirk over the top of her head as he rubbed his chin.
Oh, yeah, there's something going on there, John thought and grinned as he dropped his gaze to his knuckle. Now that it was cleaned up, he could clearly see two distinct tooth marks, and a bruise forming around the first two knuckles. Then he was distracted by Carson charging into the room. He glanced between John and Ronon, then visibly sloughed in relief.
"Oh, thank God," he said and leaned against a vacant exam table. "I thought something bad had happened."
John's grin disappeared instantly.
Rodney showed up a second later. "If you had let me finish my sentence, you would have known everything was fine," he said. "But no – have to assume the worst, go flying off in a panic. Really, I think you do it just because you like the way your lab coat flaps in the breeze when you get going, like you're some Hippocratic Batman in white without all the cool toys on your belt. "
Carson shushed Rodney and looked at John. "You're really all right?"
John smiled guiltily and held up his hand. "Ronon and I had a short 'chat' about this morning."
"It's all cool," Ronon rumbled with nod that sent his dreds in motion.
Carson looked back and forth between them a few times, his expression torn somewhere between disbelief and you're-both-bloidy-insane. He ran his hand down his face and held it over his mouth for a moment. Then he was glaring at Rodney.
"What?"
"You give me another heart attack like that, and I'll make sure I pull out the antique needles for you the next time you come in for so much as a hangnail."
Rodney visibly, and audibly, swallowed. "I'll, uh, wait for you in your office," he said as he pointed over his shoulder. Then he was gone in a twitch.
Keller walked over and put a hand on Carson's shoulder. "It's all under control. Go relax." And she gently herded him towards the door.
"All right, all right," Carson sighed and allowed himself to be herded. He pointed at John. "You – get some rest tonight. If yae can."
"I'll try," John replied. The doctor made a little huh sound in the back of his throat before he left.
Ronon waited until he could no longer see Carson through the door into the other room. "Man, he looks like hell."
"I know," Keller said and sighed. John noticed earlier in the mess that she had some hellacious circles under her eyes as well, and now when she turned to face him they looked more like bruises in the infirmary's lights. "You're free to go back to your room." She started to pick up the small mess she made. "Do you think you'll need something to sleep? Or for pain?"
"Naw, I'll be good," John replied as he slid off the table. "Thanks. Again." He smiled faintly at her and got a really sweet one in reply.
As he was going back through the infirmary, he noticed he had three escorts. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Ronon as he ambled along next to him. "You know, I already have tour guides," he said.
"Yeah, I know," Ronon replied, his eyes forward. "Just want to make sure your tour doesn't have any incidents."
John was silent for several steps, then he chuffed very softly and shook his head. "Thanks." He barely got the word out.
"Don't mention it."
-oOo-
When Carson got to his office he found Rodney squinting at his framed degrees and chewing on a fingernail. The former he always made a point of doing whenever he stopped by; the latter whenever he was nervous or had to face something unpleasant. He closed the door behind him and walked over to his cluttered desk. "I keep telling yae, Rodney, there are no references to veterinary medicine, voodoo, sacrificing chickens, or bones and rattles in that. So desist, all ready." Carson sighed heavily and sank into his chair.
Rodney gave a twitchy shrug and one last chew. "I just know it's in that really fine print somewhere – I just haven't found it yet."
Carson sighed again and swiveled his chair around. He began digging in one of the file drawers attached to his desk that he used as a catch-all. "What do you want, Rodney?" he asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
Rodney turned to him and made a little hmm noise. "I don't want anything," he said a little too quickly. "I've just come to check on you, Carson. People are getting worried."
People, as in you, but you'd never say that out loud, would yae now? Carson amended in his mind. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the fidgety physicist. "Did Jenn put you up to this?"
"No." When Carson grunted at that Rodney raised his hands and made a bunch of fluttery movements accompanied by guttural sound effects before he got actual words out. "Okay, okay. Damn it, Carson – you missed the meatloaf with Guinness gravy tonight. Guinness gravy," he emphasized. "In the four years we've been here you've missed that as many times as, as, as – as many times as you've missed calling your mother on her birthday and Christmas. Which, I believe, is like never." He sat down in the empty chair in front of Carson's desk, slouched, and dangled his right arm over the back. He put his right leg up on his left knee and jiggled his foot crazily. "So, what is wrong with you? Huh? Are you sick? Confused? Dieting? Seeing a woman?" His left hand came back up. "Seeing a man? What, Carson? What is going on with you?"
Carson couldn't keep the short, dry chuckle in. Then he went ah and pulled what he was searching for out of the back of the file drawer. He looked at his friend, and behind the mask of caffeinated irritation he could see the genuine worry. "No, Rodney, I'm not seeing anyone – woman, man, or sheep." He set a leather and silver flask on the desk. "But I am sick," he said softly. "Sick and so damn tired." He scrubbed hard at his face.
Rodney's eyes widened in alarm. Carson was his ground, his rock, his R2D2 to his C3PO. His frickin' Watson to his Crick. To see his friend keeping a nip handy in his desk scared the ever loving bejeezus out of him more than that abomination Kolya insisted on keeping in the basement. "Oh, hey – is that a good idea?" he croaked out.
Carson ignored him as he rolled his chair over to a shelf. There was a stack of those plastic cups that nurses liked to give pills in. He grabbed two and rolled back to his desk, where he sat both by the flask. Without a word he pulled the cap with a soft pop and filled both makeshift shot glasses. He recapped the flask and handed one to Rodney. "I'd be grateful if you joined me," he said, his voice soft. "As a friend."
"Okay," Rodney squeaked out. He only took half the shot. He closed his eyes and let the fumes from the twelve-year-old scotch fill his sinuses before he swallowed. He noticed Carson did the same. No words were spoken as they repeated the motion, and Carson refilled the cups. They savored those in companionable silence as well.
"I'm losing it, Rodney," Carson finally said. His eyes were focused on the empty cup and the amber beads that he rolled around in its bottom. "I cannot sit back and bear witness to this travesty of scientific process any longer and retain anything resembling a conscience. Something has to be done."
Rodney's face fell. "But, Carson …."
"No 'buts' about it, Rodney," Carson snapped. "They have to be stopped. Now."
Rodney flinched at his friend's words. "I know they do," he said as he sat his cup on the arm of the chair. "But we have to be smart about it. If you go off half-cocked you're liable to get yourself killed." It all came out in a rush, and Rodney's eyes widened as if he surprised himself he said that. Out loud.
Carson seemed surprised as well. "You're tellin' me not to go off half-cocked?" He slumped back into his chair. "I do believe that is a first."
"Well …." Rodney shrugged and twitched.
"You have been talking to Jenn."
Rodney held up a hand, his thumb and index finger about three inches apart. "A little bit." He grinned crookedly. "She even used the term 'cheeky'."
Carson sighed and scratched his scalp. "Aye, I have been. But I can't help it – Kolya gets me so riled up I can't even think straight when I'm around him. And Dr. Chaya …."
"Now I bet she has advanced degrees in reading entrails," Rodney said and shivered. "Where in the hell did he find her? That woman is seriously deranged."
"Precisely," Carson said under his breath. When Rodney cocked his head, he said, "Hell. I'd say, oh, fifth level at least."
"Huh." Rodney considered it a moment, then nodded.
Carson leaned forward and uncapped the flask. He refilled his cup, then raised an eyebrow at Rodney. Rodney held his out, and they both sat in silence again while they savored the single malt. "They need to be stopped," he said again.
"Yes, they do. But we can't do it alone." Rodney sat his empty cup on the edge of Carson's desk. "I'll start putting some feelers out, see who we can trust."
"Uh, Rodney? Leave that to me – you're about as subtle as a hurricane and a tornado, combined."
Rodney opened his mouth and started to protest, then it crooked into a wicked grin a second later and he snapped his fingers. "Radek. He'd be perfect. It's that childhood imprinting from being raised in a Communist controlled country. He can find out anything. And I know he despises them both – he loses the ability to speak English whenever he talks about them."
Carson actually let loose a short chuckle. "Good. We have a start. Baby steps, but it's a start." He returned the flask to the dark reaches of his junk drawer. When he sat back up, he stared at Rodney until his friend started to squirm. "How in the hell did you come up with 'Hippocratic Batman'?" he asked.
Rodney stuck his jaw out and grinned. "That was pretty good, if I do say so myself."
End Note: Man, I could use some of that whiskey right now. Gorram kidney stone.
