Fic: Limited Duty
Title: Limited Duty
Author: brate7
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Rating: Gen, PG-13
Word Count: 7000
Summary: When Sheppard is confined to base, no one is safe... especially McKay.
Note: Previously published in Jumper One .
Limited Duty
By Brate
Major John Sheppard prowled the halls of Atlantis, looking for something--anything--to do. With his ribs still healing after his encounter with the Wraith from Hell, he was restricted in his activities. Which meant he would have to forgo his scheduled bout with Teyla, otherwise he would definitely wind up back in the infirmary. He could go see Elizabeth, but she would just ask him about those reports he was supposed to be finishing. Absently nodding a greeting to an airman, John smiled. He knew just where to go.
Reaching his destination, he paused in the doorway. Inside his lab, Rodney McKay--Doctor Rodney McKay--was hunched over his laptop, mumbling to himself. John slid up behind him.
"Whatcha doin'?"
McKay jumped and whirled around. "Major! Stop sneaking up on me!"
Chuckling, John stepped back, leaning against the counter. "Actually, I don't call it sneaking. I tend to think of it as walking, and I'd hate to give it up seein' as I've almost got it perfected."
"Very droll. I'm certainly pleased to know you can amuse yourself."
"Actually, I can't . . . that's the problem."
McKay looked up from his laptop, confused. "What?"
"I'm bored."
"You're kidding."
"Nope." John flinched as he moved wrong, wrenching his still-healing ribs. Surreptitiously, he wrapped his arm around his torso.
McKay narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. "Fine, okay, you can stay. Just don't touch anything."
Don't touch anything, John mouthed silently. "Thanks, Rodney," he said.
The scientist waved his hand, clearly intending to dismiss Sheppard from his thoughts. John started making a slow circuit of the room, scanning all the alien doodads McKay had "collected" since their arrival in Atlantis. John would bet his Johnny Cash poster that McKay had appropriated at least half of them from other scientists. Being in charge had its privileges.
Hearing another shout of "Don't touch that!" John sighed. McKay seemed to have a sixth sense whenever John was about to pick up something. It wasn't as though the Ancients gadgets held his interest; it was more that he enjoyed annoying McKay.
Making his way behind Rodney, John was rewarded with a break from yelling. McKay was determined to ignore him-save for the "not touching" admonishments--and he wouldn't dignify John's presence by turning around, so John was free to check out the gizmos strewn about the counter. Damn. Nothing special. Not that the major would know "special" unless it jumped up and bit him. Then he'd simply shoot it with his 9mm.
He heard McKay choke off a laugh. Apparently, Rodney knew exactly what lay on the table behind him and didn't care if John played with them. It was a bunch of crystals, most likely gathered from a dozen different locations around the city, hopefully none necessary for day-to-day operations. Though, truthfully, even McKay's sense of discovery didn't-normally-extend to putting others in danger.
Mildly resentful at being outmaneuvered by their resident supergenius, John grabbed a cigar-shaped crystal and wiggled it in his hands. John smiled. Supergenius. That fit McKay. He did seem to come up with some pretty Wile E. Coyote-style ideas. It would explain a lot if McKay had grown up watching Looney Tunes. John turned the crystal over in his hand, subtly looking for the word "Acme" stamped on it.
It began to vibrate. Startled, John nearly dropped it, juggling it for a moment before regaining his hold and clutching it to his chest. Phew. Rodney would have killed him if he'd broken one of his thingamabobs. The vibrations ceased as the crystal began to glow with a faint light.
"Um . . . McKay?" John called hesitantly.
"What is it now, Major? I swear, you have the attention span of a two-year-old on a sugar high." McKay swiveled in his chair and saw the lighted object. "What did you do? I told you not to touch anything!"
"I just picked it up," John defended himself.
"You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself."
"Apparently." Holding the crystal up, John asked, "What is it?"
"How should I know?"
"Maybe it's the Ancient version of a glow-stick."
"Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what it is, Major," McKay responded sarcastically. Well, every response from the scientist was sarcastic, so it was kind of hard to tell when he was actually trying to be sarcastic. McKay snapped his fingers and gestured with his hand. "Give it here."
John dutifully handed it over to the scientist, but as soon as he lost contact with the crystal, its glow faded. With a sniff of indignation, Rodney handed it back to John. The instant he touched it, it glowed brightly. McKay repeated the experiment twice more; each time John let go, the light went out. John chuckled inwardly, recalling the old definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Amused at Rodney's growing frustration, John took the crystal back, grinning as it once again lit up. "It likes me better."
"That's hardly the case, Major. You simply activated it and it probably imprinted on you--the same way the personal shield did with me."
"Like I said," John drawled, "it likes me better."
"Aargh," McKay snarled. "I'm starving--I can't think." He walked across the lab and out the door. After a long moment, he poked his head back in. "Are you coming?" he asked.
"Where?"
"To the mess hall, of course."
"Oh, of course."
"Well?" McKay snapped.
"Coming, I'm coming." John slid the crystal into his pocket and followed the scientist. He had to double-time it to catch up. "Interesting," he commented once he drew alongside McKay.
"What is?" McKay asked absently.
"You only seem to move this fast when there's food involved . . . or your life's at stake."
"Priorities, Major, priorities."
They entered the transporter and the destination screen appeared. As McKay reached out to press their destination, John felt his pocket shake. "Wait a minute!"
"What now?" McKay's voice had turned whiny, a sure sign of hunger-or that he needed a nap.
"This." John pulled out the crystal, now glowing brightly and vibrating.
"You stole that!"
"McKay, your lab is not a Wal-Mart," John said. "I simply misplaced it into my pocket."
"Hmmph. Misplaced, my ass."
"I have been nowhere near your ass. You must've lost it on your own."
"You know, you really--"
A small, circular opening appeared underneath the transporter's controls, silencing the two men. They stared at it for a long beat.
Gently, John inserted the crystal into the opening. On the view screen, an additional destination lit up. John lifted an eyebrow in question.
McKay shrugged. "We've gone this far."
Touching the new light, John activated the transporter. The doors slid shut behind them and opened a moment later.
* * * * *
Rodney didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't an ordinary-looking room. Somewhat disappointed, he moved forward, intending to get a closer look, but an arm cut him off.
"Let me check it out first," Sheppard said. The crystal ejected. The major absently took it and slid it into his pocket. Gripping his handgun, he prepared to exit.
Rodney recalled the last time he'd let Sheppard go off on his own; the major had ended up going toe to toe against an überwraith. Not that something of that nature was likely to happen again, but no sense taking chances. Unconsciously, Rodney held Sheppard's shirt, making sure not to interfere with his ability to fire their only weapon, and followed the major out of the transporter. If Sheppard thought his actions strange, he kept it to himself. Thank God. Rodney would be hard-pressed to explain them to himself, let alone another.
Slowly, he trailed Sheppard around the room, releasing his hold and simply remaining one step behind. To him, it looked like the Ancient version of a living room. Along one wall was a counter; in the middle sat a couch and two chairs. There was something in the corner that looked to be a kitchenette. A circuit of the room revealed only one door in addition to the transporter's. Cautiously, Sheppard opened the door to find a bedroom, very minimal, with no decorations. Another door off the bedroom revealed a bathroom.
"Do you notice anything strange?" Sheppard asked, walking back into the "living room."
"Besides the fact we are on an alien world in a floating city, transported to some unknown location?"
"Yeah, besides that." Sheppard motioned around the room. "No windows, and only one door actually leads out."
Rodney thought a moment. "That is strange," he agreed.
"Maybe it was Atlantis's Penthouse Suite."
"'Lifestyles of the Rich and Ascended,'" Rodney intoned.
Sheppard whipped his head around to stare at Rodney incredulously.
"What?" asked Rodney, automatically on the defensive.
"You have a sense of humor," the major said. "Guess I owe Ford twenty bucks."
"Oh, your wit has no end . . . unfortunately."
Grinning, Sheppard ordered, "See if you can find something that can tell us what this place was used for."
Rodney scouted for a wall panel or anyplace where he could connect to the mainframe. Sheppard took the crystal from his pocket, set it on the counter, and began searching as well. A crackle over the radio ceased all activity, and they looked at each other like children caught stealing from the cookie jar.
"Major Sheppard." Elizabeth Weir's voice rang out loud and clear.
Sheppard touched his earpiece, activating his radio. "Yes, ma'am."
"I had expected to see you in my office this morning," Weir said. "I'm wondering what you're doing at the moment."
"Just . . . hanging out," Sheppard drawled.
Rodney rolled his eyes.
"Hanging out? Were you going to finish those reports I asked you to do?"
"Of course, as soon as I'm done."
"Done hanging out."
"Exactly."
"Are you alone?"
"I'm with McKay." John either hadn't seen or chose to ignore Rodney's manic hand gestures to keep him out of it.
"Rodney?"
"Yes, ma'am." He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Now she would know something was up. "I mean, Elizabeth."
An edge of suspicion crept into her voice. "Where are you?"
"In a room," Rodney answered, stalling for time. Now it was Sheppard's turn to roll his eyes. "Let's see you do better," he whispered angrily, covering his mouthpiece.
"Gentlemen, I am losing my patience. I want to know exactly where you are and what you are doing right now."
"We don't know . . . exactly," Sheppard admitted.
"What do you mean 'you don't know'?"
Rodney quickly explained about the crystal, and their utterly innocent trip through the transporter.
Weir asked, "Major, aren't you on limited duty?"
"I'm not doing anything. I'm just walking around . . . limitedly." Sheppard grinned in triumph. Rodney sliced his hand across his throat.
There was silence on the other end. Rodney exchanged a nervous glance with Sheppard.
"Peter just informed me of your location," Weir said. "According to our sensors, you are positioned at the far end of Atlantis. Basically, you're as far away from the control room as you can be without falling into the ocean."
"Really?"
"Yes, really, and I don't like it. I want you both to return immediately. We can send a better-equipped team to explore your find."
Sheppard agreed with her assessment--grudgingly, Rodney thought--and headed back to the transporter.
A bright green wall suddenly flashed before him, throwing him back against the opposite wall. Sheppard's head connected with the hard surface, and he slumped on the floor.
A hard lump appeared in Rodney's throat, and he ran to Sheppard's side. Kneeling down, he forced a croak from his mouth. "Major!" Ignoring Weir's insistent questions in his ear, he reached out to see if the major was still alive. Rodney's hand jerked to a stop halfway, hanging in midair. He was afraid to touch him, scared he could hurt him further. Sheppard's eyes were closed and he looked unusually pale. Oh, God, what if he's dead?
Weir's voice finally penetrated Rodney's panic, demanding to know what happened.
"The major was walking to the transporter, but some sort of shield came up and threw him across the room."
"Is he all right?"
"I don't know, I don't know . . . I'm not that kind of doctor!"
"Rodney! I need you to stay calm."
"Calm, yeah, okay, I can do calm." Rodney puffed several quick breaths, stopping when he got dizzy. Okay, that didn't work.
Weir must have contacted Beckett because the Scottish doctor's voice came over the radio. "Tell me what happened, Rodney."
Repeating his previous explanation, Rodney added, "He hit hard and slammed his head."
"I need you to check for a pulse."
"Pulse, of course." Rodney placed his fingers carefully on the major's neck. Sheppard groaned and Rodney jumped back in alarm. "Major?"
Another moan, but no sign of waking. "His heart's beating and he's breathing, but he won't wake up," Rodney reported. He chewed his lip in frustration. There should be something he could do. He hated feeling helpless, but it was an emotion he had experienced far too often with Major Sheppard. First, Rodney had watched a wraith-tick suck the life out of him, and then, most recently, he'd listened to Sheppard battle the Wraith as he stood watch over Gaul. This was not a situation he wanted to get used to.
"All right, keep him still," Beckett said. "I'm goin' to try to get to you, just hang on."
Rodney turned off the radio and anxiously watched Sheppard for signs of consciousness. Don't touch anything! he'd yelled at Sheppard, but usually he had to beg--or coerce--the major to do that very thing. "I promise, if you wake up, I'll let you touch anything you want," Rodney pleaded.
"Please tell me that didn't go out over the radio," Sheppard groaned. "That'll be way too hard to explain." Cracking his eyes open, he looked around.
"You're alive!" Rodney exclaimed.
"Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze." Sheppard rolled over slowly, getting to his hands and knees. He shook off Rodney's helping hand and used the wall for support, managing to get to his feet, however unsteadily.
"Should you be moving?" Rodney asked uneasily as Sheppard stumbled across the room.
"Probably not," the major conceded. He eased down onto the couch, wincing as he positioned his injured head on the armrest. "Ow." He pushed his headset to activate it. Nothing. "My radio's dead."
"Must've been knocked out when you bounced off the shield." Rodney triggered his. "Carson, Sheppard is awake and fairly coherent."
"Any injuries?" Beckett asked. Rodney relayed the question.
"Something might've snapped," Sheppard admitted.
"What?" Rodney cried out in alarm. "You moved! I told you not to move!"
"Rodney, settle down and shut it!" Beckett called. "I need to hear from Major Sheppard."
Rodney handed his radio over. Absently, he moved off, continuing to look for a way out, keeping an ear tuned to Sheppard's conversation.
"No, it doesn't hurt that much," the major said.
Rodney didn't have to be able to hear Beckett to imagine his response.
"No," Sheppard continued, "I can breathe just fine. No, but--" He sighed. "I'm lying down . . . how much easier can I take it?"
Rodney laughed at Sheppard's tone, petulant and defensive.
"I'm not being sarcastic; I'm being accurate." A pause. "Okay, Doc, I promise to tell you if I feel worse." Sheppard ripped the headset off and tossed it to Rodney. "So why the hell did I get knocked on my ass?"
Rodney smiled. "Technically, Major, you got knocked against a wall and fell on your ass." He replaced the radio in his ear.
"Technically, McKay, you can kiss my ass. How do we get out of here?"
"We might need someone from the outside to let us out."
"There might be a problem there, Rodney," Weir interrupted. "We've tried all the transporters and none come up with your location. You must need some sort of key."
"A key? A key-of course," Rodney exclaimed. "That's why it let us in."
"What are you talking about?" Sheppard asked.
"The crystal . . . you put it down. It's a key."
"A key to what?"
"To here, to these rooms."
"Why?"
"Again, why would you ask me that? How should I know?"
"You're the one always telling anyone who'll listen how smart you are." Sheppard covered his face with his forearm.
"'Smart' does not mean 'psychic.'"
Weir interrupted the argument. "Gentlemen, can we stay on topic, please?" Obviously, she could hear the conversation through the mouthpiece.
"Sorry," John mumbled from under his arm.
"Sorry," Rodney echoed.
"Can you test your theory about the crystal being a key?"
"I could," Rodney answered, "but it would mean Major Sheppard would have to walk through again. He's the one it imprinted on."
"No thanks," Sheppard said. "Besides, we can't yet."
"What? Why?"
"We don't know why this place has a lock. It's too big a risk."
"Risk?" Rodney asked uneasily. "Why would it be a risk?"
Beckett obviously knew what the major meant. "He's right; there could be some type of infection. I'll start going through some of the medical files, see if we can't dig something up."
Weir said, "We'll start looking through the other sections. Weir out."
"Infection? I heard 'infection'?" Rodney said angrily.
Sheppard lifted his arm off his face and looked at Rodney. "McKay, you of all people should realize how much a possibility that is and how dangerous it could be to Atlantis."
"Infected." All the energy suddenly leaving his body, Rodney dropped into a chair. "You've killed me. You and your mutant gene have killed me."
"Stop being such a drama queen, McKay."
"Well, excuse me, but I've already been through this once. I don't think I should have to do it all over again--especially not this soon!"
"Could you please stop shouting before my head explodes?"
"Sorry . . . sorry, sorry." Contrite, Rodney leaned back and studied the major. Sheppard was doing his best to act as if all were well, but Rodney could see a slight tightening around the eyes. The major was still immobile on the couch, and his arm had migrated to his midsection. "Do your ribs hurt?"
"No," Sheppard said quietly.
"Major, my radio is off."
Sheppard glanced over, probably trying to gauge his sincerity. "In that case, they hurt like hell."
Now Rodney was really worried. He made a move to activate his headset. "Should I call Beckett?"
"No," Sheppard said, adamantly. "There's nothing he can do, and I'm not in the mood to hear long-distance nagging."
Rodney let his hand fall, still staring worriedly.
"McKay, I'm not going to drop dead, but we will need to leave here at some point, so how about you go do that voodoo you do so well."
"Voodoo," Rodney scoffed. "Science is not voodoo by any means. It has saved your life on numerous occasions, in case it's escaped your notice."
"It hasn't. Which is why I'm counting on you to get my ass out of here this time."
The major's admission shocked McKay into silence. He was used to people either ignoring his claims of genius or rebuffing them. For someone like Sheppard to acknowledge Rodney's abilities was amazing, and a bit unnerving. He knew, more often than not, he came up with a solution. But to have someone put themselves in his hands without a second thought . . . .
Retreating, Rodney continued the search for a control panel, something he could use to connect to Atlantis. God knows they could use all the help they could get. The Ancient database was so vast; the entire expedition could search constantly for the next hundred years and never get through it all.
"Okay, Rodney, think it through. Why would there be a suite of rooms-no doors, no windows-and the only way out is rigged? Clearly, they wanted to keep someone or someones trapped. A prison? An Ancient bank robber, perhaps." Rodney snorted at the thought. He caught Sheppard looking at him strangely but ignored it. A genius didn't have to explain his thoughts at every turn. "If not a prison, then what? Perhaps the major had been correct in his primary observation. Maybe this belonged to an Ancient who just wanted to 'get away from it all.' But then it should've locked us out-not in." Rodney shook his head, dismissing the thought.
"Carson could be on to something. Maybe it is a quarantine area. There could be lots of these sections all over the city, we just hadn't found the keys to unlock them. But if we aren't infected, why would the shield keep us here?" Oh, shit. "Major!"
* * * * *
Sheppard sighed at the shout. Rodney had started making laps around the room, mumbling, evidently working out the problem. Hell, John could almost smell the smoke coming from the scientist's brain. For some reason, during certain danger, Rodney bitched and complained but focused on what needed to be done to save himself . . . and others. When the danger was imagined and abstract, all bets were off. No telling what he'd come up with.
"Yes, Rodney?" John sat up and tried to concentrate on what McKay was saying. His head felt like a jet engine was running inside and he would be willing to bet he had broken a couple ribs with his "wall hockey."
"I think we are infected," McKay said morosely.
"And what brought you to that conclusion?"
McKay threw his arms wide. "The force shield stopped us from leaving."
Valiantly trying to work around the pain to keep up with McKay's thought patterns, John deduced, "So you do think it was Atlantis protecting itself again."
"Unfortunately." The scientist let his arms drop and slumped into the chair.
"Okay." John rubbed his face, trying to get himself alert; he needed to focus on their predicament. "If that's the case, even if I use the key, it won't let us leave."
"Correct."
"But in order to test it, I still have to risk getting zapped again."
"Well, yeah." McKay was getting uncomfortable.
"Radio." John held out his hand and Rodney passed it over. John called Beckett. "Have you found anything about infectious contagions in the area?"
"No, not yet," the doctor replied, "but you do realize the mountain-load of data we have to go through? I have two of my nurses helping me and we've just begun."
"All right, thanks."
"Major?"
"Yes, Dr. Weir?"
"Teyla and Ford have taken a Jumper and will land as close as they can to your location. They'll have to hike in the rest of the way to you."
"How far?"
"Quite a distance, unfortunately. It seems you two are very much isolated."
"I'm sensing a pattern here," John mumbled. Louder, he said, "Rodney has a theory and I think it's worth testing." The major mentally cringed when he said that. He wasn't looking forward to going up against the shield again. "He thinks I can unlock the shield and then we can leave."
"Are you sure you want to try this?"
"We can't stay here forever. There's no guarantee Ford and Teyla will be able to do anything if they can get near us. I'd hate to have to kill McKay and eat him for sustenance." John hid a smile at McKay's outraged look. "It looks like it's up to us to get ourselves out."
"All right," Weir said. "Good luck."
"Yeah." John accepted the crystal from McKay, handing back the radio. "Just in case." Taking a deep breath and standing, he paused a second to steady himself. "Here goes nothing."
"Good luck."
"I wish people would stop saying that." John clutched the crystal in his hand and walked-very slowly-toward the transporter. God, I hope this works, he thought. I really want out of here. A moment later, John realized he was inside the transporter--beyond the shield. "Hey, it worked."
"Yeah, it did." McKay sounded just as surprised as John felt. "See, I told you there was nothing to worry about."
"Uh-huh, sure." John waved. "Come on, let's get out of here."
McKay nodded and marched toward John.
This time it was John who watched as McKay was repelled by the shield. Fortunately, the scientist wasn't thrown as far as Sheppard and fell short of the wall by a good five feet. John lurched over to McKay, leaning down to check his pulse. Strong and steady. He slapped McKay's cheeks--somewhat gently--in an attempt to rouse him.
McKay groaned. "That really hurt," he said, his eyes still closed.
"Yeah, I know. At least you missed the wall."
"Well, I've always been lucky." Flinging his eyes open in terror, McKay grabbed John's sleeve. "It didn't work!"
"I did notice that, yes."
"No, I mean, it didn't work!" McKay sat up and scooted back away from the major, not stopping until he was flush against the wall. "You have to leave, now."
John started to follow McKay but stopped when the scientist raised his hands in self-defense. "We," Sheppard emphasized, "will leave together."
"You're not understanding the situation, Major. I was stopped by the shield--you weren't. I'm infected. You have to leave before you catch anything."
"I understand completely, Rodney. You're the one not thinking clearly." John paused, making sure he held McKay's complete attention. "What did I have that you didn't?"
McKay's brow furrowed for a second before he broke into a wide grin. "You held the key."
"Indeed I did." John patted Rodney on the head. "I guess we'll have to go through together."
"But how did I get through in the first place?"
"Maybe it was because you were holding on to me when we came through."
"I was?" McKay asked.
"You were."
"Must've been to steady myself."
"I'm sure that's all it was." John gave McKay a hand up. "You ready to blow this popsicle stand?"
"More than I can say."
John drawled, "So should we hold hands?"
"Now is not the time to expand your dating horizons," McKay snapped back. "I think my holding on to your shirt will suffice."
"Fine, if you wanna play hard to get."
"Major, this infantile behavior of yours is getting old."
"Then I guess we better get out of here before you're forced to hear any more."
Holding the crystal tight, John headed for the transporter, McKay's hand twisted in a death-grip on his shirt. They got within five feet of the only exit before being unceremoniously propelled backward by the shield.
John lay on the floor, collecting his thoughts and trying to regain the use of his battered body. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the ceiling, not bothering to get up. "This sucks," he said finally.
"I must agree," responded McKay. "I warned you and you refused to listen to me . . . again."
"Warned me about what?"
"Obviously, you are now infected as well."
"How do you figure that?"
"The shield deflected both of us this time."
"Oh." John closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. "Well, in that case . . . I think I'm going to pass out for a second here."
"This is no time for joking--this is serious."
"I know, Rodney, I'm totally serious. I'm taking a break."
"What? Why?" McKay voice rose in panic. He grabbed John's arm.
John pushed the hands away.
Rodney took a deep breath, actively trying to calm himself. Putting on a bright, fake smile, he asked, "Can I get you anything?"
"Sure," John said, "I'll take a beer and the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue."
"There's no call to get snippy."
"I'm not snippy, I'm tired. Back off." John let the crystal slide from his grasp as he placed his hands over his face.
McKay reached over, grabbed the crystal, and stood. "Well, fine, okay." He started to walk circles around the area.
Cracking his eyes open, John noticed the scientist was limping slightly. "You okay, Rodney?"
"No, I am not okay. I am stuck in an Ancient prison, my leg hurts, and I am on the verge of a hypoglycemic reaction."
"Oh, yeah, we were headed to the mess hall, weren't we?"
"Yes, we were, and if you hadn't noticed . . . we didn't get there."
"Actually, I had noticed. The mess hall has windows." John sighed. "Why don't you see how close Ford and Teyla are?"
Depressing the button on the radio did nothing. "And now my radio is broken!" McKay yelled. He stomped around in place before settling down and asking snidely, "Are you going to get up, Major?"
"I would if I could. I think that last jolt knocked something loose."
"What?" McKay blanched.
"I'm saying, I'll be needing some assistance from the good doctor Beckett pretty damn soon."
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yes. I think we'd better work on an alternate way outta here."
"We? We?! You can't even get up. How are we going to get out of here? Our radios are down--we don't know what they're doing out there. They don't know what we're doing in here. So it's up to us. To me. As usual. Am I the only one in this entire city who can fix anything? People always look to me for answers. Not that I don't normally have them, but I'm not omniscient."
John closed his eyes and listened to the rambling rant of Dr. Rodney McKay. It was when the scientist's mouth was running as fast as his brain that things began to come together. Now John just had to hold on until that moment of brilliance came. He had ignored the pain in his chest for as long as he could, blocking it out by focusing on the pain in his head, but it was getting harder to breathe. He was getting scared, not only for himself, but for McKay if something should happen to him. Rodney McKay was not known for his calm, collected manner in the face of adversity, and John ultimately felt responsible for him.
"Now if we assume we are not infected-because if we are, there is no way in hell we are getting out of here--then there must be some other reason why we're trapped." McKay kept pacing around the room, holding the crystal in one hand and tapping it against the other. "If it isn't infection and that's a long--a very long-shot, than it has to be something you or I did that changed. So what did we do?" He paused. "What did you do?"
John was jerked from his pain-filled meditation by an insistent tap on his shoulder. "Yes, McKay?"
"I said, 'What did you do?'"
John opened his eyes to see McKay settled on his haunches, a question in his eyes. "What did I do when?"
"When you successfully crossed the shield."
"I carried the crystal and walked through it."
"That's it?"
"Yep."
"It can't be."
"Sorry, Rodney. I can make something up for you if you'd like."
"Not helpful, Major, not helpful."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Think back . . . "
"And?"
"Shut up . . . wait a minute . . . think . . . "
"About what?"
"Has anyone ever explained what 'shut up' means?" Rodney snapped. "I need silence. Now. I'm trying to think."
John rolled his eyes. He wasn't about to tell McKay--no more pressure needed--but his body was really starting to hurt. If it kept up, there was no way he'd be able to stop a moan from escaping, which would undoubtedly make Rodney nervous. And a nervous Rodney tended to make John nervous as well.
"Now the crystal imprinted on you, so you're the one the shield should work for, only it didn't work. We know Ancient technology has a mental component . . . . What were you thinking when you walked through?"
"Probably that I wanted to get the hell outta here."
"That's it! It's got to be it. Not only does the key have to be in your possession, you have to want to leave. Perhaps this was a prison--a type of solitary confinement. Only the guard would be allowed access and they wouldn't want the possibility of the prisoner overpowering the guard and simply dragging his body through with him . . . or her . . . it?"
"Amazing," John deadpanned. "Does this mean I have to try to walk though the field again?" John was a tad apprehensive at the idea--reasonably, he thought.
McKay must have noticed the hesitation. "I'm afraid so, Major. You're the only one who can."
"Great." John sighed. "Okay, you're going to have to help me up."
The scientist moved forward to assist, but John waved him off. "Wait a sec, let me get ready." With his luck, McKay would yank him up and break a few more ribs. John sat up slowly, holding his arm to his torso. Rolling to his knees, he held out his free hand. "All right."
McKay, to his credit, pulled John gently to his feet, holding him steady when he wavered. Sheppard closed his eyes to regain his equilibrium. Opening them, he held out his hand. McKay plunked the crystal into it, and together they started shuffling toward the transporter. As they approached the "line of demarcation," Sheppard flinched. "You sure about this?"
"Absolutely." McKay nodded. "I think."
"Not instilling a lot of confidence, McKay."
"We have no other choice."
"Confidence instilled. Let's go." John took a deep breath and moved forward, thinking, I want out, I want out, I want out, until they were safely inside the transporter. Sheppard immediately slid to the floor, too tired and sore to remain upright. On the opposite wall, the screen lit up with possible transfer points.
"Where do you want to go?" McKay asked.
"Just push a damn button, McKay."
"Right, of course."
John's eyesight was hazy as Rodney reached a hand to the screen. The last thing John heard before he lost consciousness was McKay bellowing.
* * * * *
After randomly choosing a site for transport, Rodney turned to see Major Sheppard fading fast. As soon as the doors opened, Rodney stuck his head out and yelled for help. Kneeling down to check on Sheppard, Rodney could see the major's chest rising and falling. Though momentarily relieved, Rodney knew that status could change at any moment. Anxious, he realized no one had answered his first shout, so he called again.
As soon as an airman arrived, Rodney snatched his radio and called Beckett.
The airman helped Rodney carefully drag Sheppard out of the transporter, allowing Beckett to "beam" directly to them. Although the doctor wasn't happy with them for moving the major, he was smart enough to realize time was of the essence. And Rodney, oh so helpfully, added that Sheppard had already moved himself twice after being injured.
Within a minute, Carson, two aides, and a multitude of equipment were exiting the transporter. Rodney had no idea how everything and everyone could have fit inside. It looked like a clown car unloading at the circus.
Rodney was quickly pushed out of the way, watching and listening as they worked on the major. He didn't recognize a lot of the medical terms, but, to him, none of what they said seemed good. Once Sheppard was stabilized, Carson and company placed him on a gurney and hustled him to the infirmary.
In a daze, Rodney followed, trying to comprehend that Sheppard had needed to be stabilized. It suggested the major had not been stable. Not stable meant unstable. Even for someone as medically ignorant as Rodney, it sent a definite message: Sheppard had been bad off. Worse than Rodney had guessed. But why would he keep that from him? With startling clarity, Rodney knew. Sheppard hadn't wanted to worry him.
That son of a bitch.
* * * * *
Sounds and smells began to break through the dark of oblivion. Reluctant to part with the happily pain-free existence, John nonetheless knew he would have to give it up. Like they said, there was no time like the present. Forcing his eyes open, he blinked against the harsh, bright lights.
"About time."
John turned his head toward the voice. McKay was sitting on the next bed, his legs swinging freely.
"How long?" John rasped.
Jumping off the bed, McKay picked up a cup, holding it as John sipped water through the straw. "Fourteen hours, give or take," the scientist answered.
"Thanks." John looked around. "You been here the whole time?"
McKay snorted. "You wish. I have many, many duties on Atlantis, and none of them include babysitting recalcitrant majors."
John didn't know why McKay's blunt statement should disappoint him. It wasn't as though the two of them were friends or anything. Not really.
Beckett chuckled as he walked up. "Aye, he's just been checking in every half-hour to make sure I haven't cut you up for spare parts."
John glanced at McKay, noticing the scientist seemed embarrassed by Beckett's revelation. That made him feel better, though he couldn't say why.
"I-I merely wanted to ensure our ranking military officer remained as such," McKay stuttered. "Who knows how the next-in-line would mess things up?"
"Yeah," John agreed, letting McKay off the hook, "you never know about those military guys. I'd hate for Weir to have to stage a coup."
"Precisely." McKay nodded, smiling. "She may be a wonderful diplomat, but her 'scheming skills' are severely lacking. I would be forced to take over for the good of the mission."
"Long live King Rodney," John hailed.
"You see why he has to survive?" McKay asked Beckett. "No one else seems to understand my importance."
"Aye, that's probably true." Beckett pushed McKay aside and checked John's stats. "You seem to be coming along right nice, though I dare say you'd heal a damn spot faster if you'd actually take it seriously when restricted to limited duty."
John opened his mouth to argue, but Beckett beat him to the punch.
"Shut it! I dinna want to hear anything about how innocent it all was and how it wasna your fault. You're a grown man, Major, and you have to take responsibility for your actions, good and bad."
"Yeah, okay, Doc." Desperate to change the subject, John said, "I'm just glad to be out of that prison."
"Sanitarium," Beckett corrected.
"Huh?"
McKay explained, "Apparently, one of their own went a little crazy and needed to be confined for the safety of the others. The key was needed to enter and exit. The shield was to keep the inmate from jury-rigging the transporter and escaping."
Beckett said, "We finally found the doctor's file that gave us the details."
"I believe," McKay continued, "the crystal thought you were the doctor and would let you in and out quite readily. I, on the other hand--"
"Could've been the loon," John finished with a smirk.
"Not really a stretch," Beckett agreed.
John smiled at McKay's scowl. "But how did the doctor's key end up in your lab?" the major wondered.
"Well, hmm, all's well that ends well, right? I'll check back later to see if you're up for a snack or a hand of cards." McKay backed toward the door.
"Not so fast," Beckett snapped. "Where did that crystal come from?"
"Carson, I can't be expected to recall every single insignificant--"
"Where?" Beckett demanded.
McKay waved his hands, placating. "It might have, and I stress might, have come from around this vicinity . . . somewhere."
"You stole it from my infirmary, didn't you?"
"Stole? No, I simply . . . misplaced it into my pocket," McKay finished.
"I think you'd better leave before I 'misplace' my foot in your arse," Beckett snapped.
McKay turned and hurried out without another word.
"And keep your bloody mitts off my things!" the Scot yelled after him.
"That's telling 'im," John remarked.
Beckett turned with an angry glare. "Don't you think you're getting off lightly, Major. You managed to break three of your formerly cracked ribs and came damn close to puncturing your heart." The doctor pointed a finger. "You would've bled out like a stuck pig in seconds. You were damn lucky."
"Sir, yes, sir."
"Don't you get smart with me, laddie. This time you are going to follow my instructions to the letter. Elizabeth has already offered the services of Sergeant Bates to follow you around if need be."
John shuddered and crossed his heart with a finger. "That won't be necessary, Doc. I promise I'll behave."
Beckett harrumphed and walked away, muttering about impatient patients and the lack of respect for the entire medical community.
* * * * *
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Stop sneaking up on me!"
John smirked. Leaning on the bench where McKay was working, he craned his neck, looking at the laptop. "What're you working on?"
"A way to detect Air Force majors before they scare the living crap out of me."
"How's it coming?"
"Obviously, it's a failure."
"Oh, that's too bad." John continued to watch McKay work.
Rodney sighed heavily. "Can I help you, Major?"
"Yep."
Waiting for details that didn't come, McKay barked, "With what?"
"Beckett's got me on limited duty for two more weeks."
"Let me guess . . . you're bored."
"Yep."
"All right, you can stay. Just don't--"
"--touch anything. Yeah, I got that message loud and clear." John walked around the room, curious to see what new things McKay had found since his last visit. "So what's this thing do?" he asked, picking up a doohickey.
"Major!"
end
Author: brate7
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Rating: Gen, PG-13
Word Count: 7000
Summary: When Sheppard is confined to base, no one is safe... especially McKay.
Note: Previously published in Jumper One .
Limited Duty
By Brate
Major John Sheppard prowled the halls of Atlantis, looking for something--anything--to do. With his ribs still healing after his encounter with the Wraith from Hell, he was restricted in his activities. Which meant he would have to forgo his scheduled bout with Teyla, otherwise he would definitely wind up back in the infirmary. He could go see Elizabeth, but she would just ask him about those reports he was supposed to be finishing. Absently nodding a greeting to an airman, John smiled. He knew just where to go.
Reaching his destination, he paused in the doorway. Inside his lab, Rodney McKay--Doctor Rodney McKay--was hunched over his laptop, mumbling to himself. John slid up behind him.
"Whatcha doin'?"
McKay jumped and whirled around. "Major! Stop sneaking up on me!"
Chuckling, John stepped back, leaning against the counter. "Actually, I don't call it sneaking. I tend to think of it as walking, and I'd hate to give it up seein' as I've almost got it perfected."
"Very droll. I'm certainly pleased to know you can amuse yourself."
"Actually, I can't . . . that's the problem."
McKay looked up from his laptop, confused. "What?"
"I'm bored."
"You're kidding."
"Nope." John flinched as he moved wrong, wrenching his still-healing ribs. Surreptitiously, he wrapped his arm around his torso.
McKay narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. "Fine, okay, you can stay. Just don't touch anything."
Don't touch anything, John mouthed silently. "Thanks, Rodney," he said.
The scientist waved his hand, clearly intending to dismiss Sheppard from his thoughts. John started making a slow circuit of the room, scanning all the alien doodads McKay had "collected" since their arrival in Atlantis. John would bet his Johnny Cash poster that McKay had appropriated at least half of them from other scientists. Being in charge had its privileges.
Hearing another shout of "Don't touch that!" John sighed. McKay seemed to have a sixth sense whenever John was about to pick up something. It wasn't as though the Ancients gadgets held his interest; it was more that he enjoyed annoying McKay.
Making his way behind Rodney, John was rewarded with a break from yelling. McKay was determined to ignore him-save for the "not touching" admonishments--and he wouldn't dignify John's presence by turning around, so John was free to check out the gizmos strewn about the counter. Damn. Nothing special. Not that the major would know "special" unless it jumped up and bit him. Then he'd simply shoot it with his 9mm.
He heard McKay choke off a laugh. Apparently, Rodney knew exactly what lay on the table behind him and didn't care if John played with them. It was a bunch of crystals, most likely gathered from a dozen different locations around the city, hopefully none necessary for day-to-day operations. Though, truthfully, even McKay's sense of discovery didn't-normally-extend to putting others in danger.
Mildly resentful at being outmaneuvered by their resident supergenius, John grabbed a cigar-shaped crystal and wiggled it in his hands. John smiled. Supergenius. That fit McKay. He did seem to come up with some pretty Wile E. Coyote-style ideas. It would explain a lot if McKay had grown up watching Looney Tunes. John turned the crystal over in his hand, subtly looking for the word "Acme" stamped on it.
It began to vibrate. Startled, John nearly dropped it, juggling it for a moment before regaining his hold and clutching it to his chest. Phew. Rodney would have killed him if he'd broken one of his thingamabobs. The vibrations ceased as the crystal began to glow with a faint light.
"Um . . . McKay?" John called hesitantly.
"What is it now, Major? I swear, you have the attention span of a two-year-old on a sugar high." McKay swiveled in his chair and saw the lighted object. "What did you do? I told you not to touch anything!"
"I just picked it up," John defended himself.
"You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself."
"Apparently." Holding the crystal up, John asked, "What is it?"
"How should I know?"
"Maybe it's the Ancient version of a glow-stick."
"Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what it is, Major," McKay responded sarcastically. Well, every response from the scientist was sarcastic, so it was kind of hard to tell when he was actually trying to be sarcastic. McKay snapped his fingers and gestured with his hand. "Give it here."
John dutifully handed it over to the scientist, but as soon as he lost contact with the crystal, its glow faded. With a sniff of indignation, Rodney handed it back to John. The instant he touched it, it glowed brightly. McKay repeated the experiment twice more; each time John let go, the light went out. John chuckled inwardly, recalling the old definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Amused at Rodney's growing frustration, John took the crystal back, grinning as it once again lit up. "It likes me better."
"That's hardly the case, Major. You simply activated it and it probably imprinted on you--the same way the personal shield did with me."
"Like I said," John drawled, "it likes me better."
"Aargh," McKay snarled. "I'm starving--I can't think." He walked across the lab and out the door. After a long moment, he poked his head back in. "Are you coming?" he asked.
"Where?"
"To the mess hall, of course."
"Oh, of course."
"Well?" McKay snapped.
"Coming, I'm coming." John slid the crystal into his pocket and followed the scientist. He had to double-time it to catch up. "Interesting," he commented once he drew alongside McKay.
"What is?" McKay asked absently.
"You only seem to move this fast when there's food involved . . . or your life's at stake."
"Priorities, Major, priorities."
They entered the transporter and the destination screen appeared. As McKay reached out to press their destination, John felt his pocket shake. "Wait a minute!"
"What now?" McKay's voice had turned whiny, a sure sign of hunger-or that he needed a nap.
"This." John pulled out the crystal, now glowing brightly and vibrating.
"You stole that!"
"McKay, your lab is not a Wal-Mart," John said. "I simply misplaced it into my pocket."
"Hmmph. Misplaced, my ass."
"I have been nowhere near your ass. You must've lost it on your own."
"You know, you really--"
A small, circular opening appeared underneath the transporter's controls, silencing the two men. They stared at it for a long beat.
Gently, John inserted the crystal into the opening. On the view screen, an additional destination lit up. John lifted an eyebrow in question.
McKay shrugged. "We've gone this far."
Touching the new light, John activated the transporter. The doors slid shut behind them and opened a moment later.
* * * * *
Rodney didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't an ordinary-looking room. Somewhat disappointed, he moved forward, intending to get a closer look, but an arm cut him off.
"Let me check it out first," Sheppard said. The crystal ejected. The major absently took it and slid it into his pocket. Gripping his handgun, he prepared to exit.
Rodney recalled the last time he'd let Sheppard go off on his own; the major had ended up going toe to toe against an überwraith. Not that something of that nature was likely to happen again, but no sense taking chances. Unconsciously, Rodney held Sheppard's shirt, making sure not to interfere with his ability to fire their only weapon, and followed the major out of the transporter. If Sheppard thought his actions strange, he kept it to himself. Thank God. Rodney would be hard-pressed to explain them to himself, let alone another.
Slowly, he trailed Sheppard around the room, releasing his hold and simply remaining one step behind. To him, it looked like the Ancient version of a living room. Along one wall was a counter; in the middle sat a couch and two chairs. There was something in the corner that looked to be a kitchenette. A circuit of the room revealed only one door in addition to the transporter's. Cautiously, Sheppard opened the door to find a bedroom, very minimal, with no decorations. Another door off the bedroom revealed a bathroom.
"Do you notice anything strange?" Sheppard asked, walking back into the "living room."
"Besides the fact we are on an alien world in a floating city, transported to some unknown location?"
"Yeah, besides that." Sheppard motioned around the room. "No windows, and only one door actually leads out."
Rodney thought a moment. "That is strange," he agreed.
"Maybe it was Atlantis's Penthouse Suite."
"'Lifestyles of the Rich and Ascended,'" Rodney intoned.
Sheppard whipped his head around to stare at Rodney incredulously.
"What?" asked Rodney, automatically on the defensive.
"You have a sense of humor," the major said. "Guess I owe Ford twenty bucks."
"Oh, your wit has no end . . . unfortunately."
Grinning, Sheppard ordered, "See if you can find something that can tell us what this place was used for."
Rodney scouted for a wall panel or anyplace where he could connect to the mainframe. Sheppard took the crystal from his pocket, set it on the counter, and began searching as well. A crackle over the radio ceased all activity, and they looked at each other like children caught stealing from the cookie jar.
"Major Sheppard." Elizabeth Weir's voice rang out loud and clear.
Sheppard touched his earpiece, activating his radio. "Yes, ma'am."
"I had expected to see you in my office this morning," Weir said. "I'm wondering what you're doing at the moment."
"Just . . . hanging out," Sheppard drawled.
Rodney rolled his eyes.
"Hanging out? Were you going to finish those reports I asked you to do?"
"Of course, as soon as I'm done."
"Done hanging out."
"Exactly."
"Are you alone?"
"I'm with McKay." John either hadn't seen or chose to ignore Rodney's manic hand gestures to keep him out of it.
"Rodney?"
"Yes, ma'am." He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Now she would know something was up. "I mean, Elizabeth."
An edge of suspicion crept into her voice. "Where are you?"
"In a room," Rodney answered, stalling for time. Now it was Sheppard's turn to roll his eyes. "Let's see you do better," he whispered angrily, covering his mouthpiece.
"Gentlemen, I am losing my patience. I want to know exactly where you are and what you are doing right now."
"We don't know . . . exactly," Sheppard admitted.
"What do you mean 'you don't know'?"
Rodney quickly explained about the crystal, and their utterly innocent trip through the transporter.
Weir asked, "Major, aren't you on limited duty?"
"I'm not doing anything. I'm just walking around . . . limitedly." Sheppard grinned in triumph. Rodney sliced his hand across his throat.
There was silence on the other end. Rodney exchanged a nervous glance with Sheppard.
"Peter just informed me of your location," Weir said. "According to our sensors, you are positioned at the far end of Atlantis. Basically, you're as far away from the control room as you can be without falling into the ocean."
"Really?"
"Yes, really, and I don't like it. I want you both to return immediately. We can send a better-equipped team to explore your find."
Sheppard agreed with her assessment--grudgingly, Rodney thought--and headed back to the transporter.
A bright green wall suddenly flashed before him, throwing him back against the opposite wall. Sheppard's head connected with the hard surface, and he slumped on the floor.
A hard lump appeared in Rodney's throat, and he ran to Sheppard's side. Kneeling down, he forced a croak from his mouth. "Major!" Ignoring Weir's insistent questions in his ear, he reached out to see if the major was still alive. Rodney's hand jerked to a stop halfway, hanging in midair. He was afraid to touch him, scared he could hurt him further. Sheppard's eyes were closed and he looked unusually pale. Oh, God, what if he's dead?
Weir's voice finally penetrated Rodney's panic, demanding to know what happened.
"The major was walking to the transporter, but some sort of shield came up and threw him across the room."
"Is he all right?"
"I don't know, I don't know . . . I'm not that kind of doctor!"
"Rodney! I need you to stay calm."
"Calm, yeah, okay, I can do calm." Rodney puffed several quick breaths, stopping when he got dizzy. Okay, that didn't work.
Weir must have contacted Beckett because the Scottish doctor's voice came over the radio. "Tell me what happened, Rodney."
Repeating his previous explanation, Rodney added, "He hit hard and slammed his head."
"I need you to check for a pulse."
"Pulse, of course." Rodney placed his fingers carefully on the major's neck. Sheppard groaned and Rodney jumped back in alarm. "Major?"
Another moan, but no sign of waking. "His heart's beating and he's breathing, but he won't wake up," Rodney reported. He chewed his lip in frustration. There should be something he could do. He hated feeling helpless, but it was an emotion he had experienced far too often with Major Sheppard. First, Rodney had watched a wraith-tick suck the life out of him, and then, most recently, he'd listened to Sheppard battle the Wraith as he stood watch over Gaul. This was not a situation he wanted to get used to.
"All right, keep him still," Beckett said. "I'm goin' to try to get to you, just hang on."
Rodney turned off the radio and anxiously watched Sheppard for signs of consciousness. Don't touch anything! he'd yelled at Sheppard, but usually he had to beg--or coerce--the major to do that very thing. "I promise, if you wake up, I'll let you touch anything you want," Rodney pleaded.
"Please tell me that didn't go out over the radio," Sheppard groaned. "That'll be way too hard to explain." Cracking his eyes open, he looked around.
"You're alive!" Rodney exclaimed.
"Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze." Sheppard rolled over slowly, getting to his hands and knees. He shook off Rodney's helping hand and used the wall for support, managing to get to his feet, however unsteadily.
"Should you be moving?" Rodney asked uneasily as Sheppard stumbled across the room.
"Probably not," the major conceded. He eased down onto the couch, wincing as he positioned his injured head on the armrest. "Ow." He pushed his headset to activate it. Nothing. "My radio's dead."
"Must've been knocked out when you bounced off the shield." Rodney triggered his. "Carson, Sheppard is awake and fairly coherent."
"Any injuries?" Beckett asked. Rodney relayed the question.
"Something might've snapped," Sheppard admitted.
"What?" Rodney cried out in alarm. "You moved! I told you not to move!"
"Rodney, settle down and shut it!" Beckett called. "I need to hear from Major Sheppard."
Rodney handed his radio over. Absently, he moved off, continuing to look for a way out, keeping an ear tuned to Sheppard's conversation.
"No, it doesn't hurt that much," the major said.
Rodney didn't have to be able to hear Beckett to imagine his response.
"No," Sheppard continued, "I can breathe just fine. No, but--" He sighed. "I'm lying down . . . how much easier can I take it?"
Rodney laughed at Sheppard's tone, petulant and defensive.
"I'm not being sarcastic; I'm being accurate." A pause. "Okay, Doc, I promise to tell you if I feel worse." Sheppard ripped the headset off and tossed it to Rodney. "So why the hell did I get knocked on my ass?"
Rodney smiled. "Technically, Major, you got knocked against a wall and fell on your ass." He replaced the radio in his ear.
"Technically, McKay, you can kiss my ass. How do we get out of here?"
"We might need someone from the outside to let us out."
"There might be a problem there, Rodney," Weir interrupted. "We've tried all the transporters and none come up with your location. You must need some sort of key."
"A key? A key-of course," Rodney exclaimed. "That's why it let us in."
"What are you talking about?" Sheppard asked.
"The crystal . . . you put it down. It's a key."
"A key to what?"
"To here, to these rooms."
"Why?"
"Again, why would you ask me that? How should I know?"
"You're the one always telling anyone who'll listen how smart you are." Sheppard covered his face with his forearm.
"'Smart' does not mean 'psychic.'"
Weir interrupted the argument. "Gentlemen, can we stay on topic, please?" Obviously, she could hear the conversation through the mouthpiece.
"Sorry," John mumbled from under his arm.
"Sorry," Rodney echoed.
"Can you test your theory about the crystal being a key?"
"I could," Rodney answered, "but it would mean Major Sheppard would have to walk through again. He's the one it imprinted on."
"No thanks," Sheppard said. "Besides, we can't yet."
"What? Why?"
"We don't know why this place has a lock. It's too big a risk."
"Risk?" Rodney asked uneasily. "Why would it be a risk?"
Beckett obviously knew what the major meant. "He's right; there could be some type of infection. I'll start going through some of the medical files, see if we can't dig something up."
Weir said, "We'll start looking through the other sections. Weir out."
"Infection? I heard 'infection'?" Rodney said angrily.
Sheppard lifted his arm off his face and looked at Rodney. "McKay, you of all people should realize how much a possibility that is and how dangerous it could be to Atlantis."
"Infected." All the energy suddenly leaving his body, Rodney dropped into a chair. "You've killed me. You and your mutant gene have killed me."
"Stop being such a drama queen, McKay."
"Well, excuse me, but I've already been through this once. I don't think I should have to do it all over again--especially not this soon!"
"Could you please stop shouting before my head explodes?"
"Sorry . . . sorry, sorry." Contrite, Rodney leaned back and studied the major. Sheppard was doing his best to act as if all were well, but Rodney could see a slight tightening around the eyes. The major was still immobile on the couch, and his arm had migrated to his midsection. "Do your ribs hurt?"
"No," Sheppard said quietly.
"Major, my radio is off."
Sheppard glanced over, probably trying to gauge his sincerity. "In that case, they hurt like hell."
Now Rodney was really worried. He made a move to activate his headset. "Should I call Beckett?"
"No," Sheppard said, adamantly. "There's nothing he can do, and I'm not in the mood to hear long-distance nagging."
Rodney let his hand fall, still staring worriedly.
"McKay, I'm not going to drop dead, but we will need to leave here at some point, so how about you go do that voodoo you do so well."
"Voodoo," Rodney scoffed. "Science is not voodoo by any means. It has saved your life on numerous occasions, in case it's escaped your notice."
"It hasn't. Which is why I'm counting on you to get my ass out of here this time."
The major's admission shocked McKay into silence. He was used to people either ignoring his claims of genius or rebuffing them. For someone like Sheppard to acknowledge Rodney's abilities was amazing, and a bit unnerving. He knew, more often than not, he came up with a solution. But to have someone put themselves in his hands without a second thought . . . .
Retreating, Rodney continued the search for a control panel, something he could use to connect to Atlantis. God knows they could use all the help they could get. The Ancient database was so vast; the entire expedition could search constantly for the next hundred years and never get through it all.
"Okay, Rodney, think it through. Why would there be a suite of rooms-no doors, no windows-and the only way out is rigged? Clearly, they wanted to keep someone or someones trapped. A prison? An Ancient bank robber, perhaps." Rodney snorted at the thought. He caught Sheppard looking at him strangely but ignored it. A genius didn't have to explain his thoughts at every turn. "If not a prison, then what? Perhaps the major had been correct in his primary observation. Maybe this belonged to an Ancient who just wanted to 'get away from it all.' But then it should've locked us out-not in." Rodney shook his head, dismissing the thought.
"Carson could be on to something. Maybe it is a quarantine area. There could be lots of these sections all over the city, we just hadn't found the keys to unlock them. But if we aren't infected, why would the shield keep us here?" Oh, shit. "Major!"
* * * * *
Sheppard sighed at the shout. Rodney had started making laps around the room, mumbling, evidently working out the problem. Hell, John could almost smell the smoke coming from the scientist's brain. For some reason, during certain danger, Rodney bitched and complained but focused on what needed to be done to save himself . . . and others. When the danger was imagined and abstract, all bets were off. No telling what he'd come up with.
"Yes, Rodney?" John sat up and tried to concentrate on what McKay was saying. His head felt like a jet engine was running inside and he would be willing to bet he had broken a couple ribs with his "wall hockey."
"I think we are infected," McKay said morosely.
"And what brought you to that conclusion?"
McKay threw his arms wide. "The force shield stopped us from leaving."
Valiantly trying to work around the pain to keep up with McKay's thought patterns, John deduced, "So you do think it was Atlantis protecting itself again."
"Unfortunately." The scientist let his arms drop and slumped into the chair.
"Okay." John rubbed his face, trying to get himself alert; he needed to focus on their predicament. "If that's the case, even if I use the key, it won't let us leave."
"Correct."
"But in order to test it, I still have to risk getting zapped again."
"Well, yeah." McKay was getting uncomfortable.
"Radio." John held out his hand and Rodney passed it over. John called Beckett. "Have you found anything about infectious contagions in the area?"
"No, not yet," the doctor replied, "but you do realize the mountain-load of data we have to go through? I have two of my nurses helping me and we've just begun."
"All right, thanks."
"Major?"
"Yes, Dr. Weir?"
"Teyla and Ford have taken a Jumper and will land as close as they can to your location. They'll have to hike in the rest of the way to you."
"How far?"
"Quite a distance, unfortunately. It seems you two are very much isolated."
"I'm sensing a pattern here," John mumbled. Louder, he said, "Rodney has a theory and I think it's worth testing." The major mentally cringed when he said that. He wasn't looking forward to going up against the shield again. "He thinks I can unlock the shield and then we can leave."
"Are you sure you want to try this?"
"We can't stay here forever. There's no guarantee Ford and Teyla will be able to do anything if they can get near us. I'd hate to have to kill McKay and eat him for sustenance." John hid a smile at McKay's outraged look. "It looks like it's up to us to get ourselves out."
"All right," Weir said. "Good luck."
"Yeah." John accepted the crystal from McKay, handing back the radio. "Just in case." Taking a deep breath and standing, he paused a second to steady himself. "Here goes nothing."
"Good luck."
"I wish people would stop saying that." John clutched the crystal in his hand and walked-very slowly-toward the transporter. God, I hope this works, he thought. I really want out of here. A moment later, John realized he was inside the transporter--beyond the shield. "Hey, it worked."
"Yeah, it did." McKay sounded just as surprised as John felt. "See, I told you there was nothing to worry about."
"Uh-huh, sure." John waved. "Come on, let's get out of here."
McKay nodded and marched toward John.
This time it was John who watched as McKay was repelled by the shield. Fortunately, the scientist wasn't thrown as far as Sheppard and fell short of the wall by a good five feet. John lurched over to McKay, leaning down to check his pulse. Strong and steady. He slapped McKay's cheeks--somewhat gently--in an attempt to rouse him.
McKay groaned. "That really hurt," he said, his eyes still closed.
"Yeah, I know. At least you missed the wall."
"Well, I've always been lucky." Flinging his eyes open in terror, McKay grabbed John's sleeve. "It didn't work!"
"I did notice that, yes."
"No, I mean, it didn't work!" McKay sat up and scooted back away from the major, not stopping until he was flush against the wall. "You have to leave, now."
John started to follow McKay but stopped when the scientist raised his hands in self-defense. "We," Sheppard emphasized, "will leave together."
"You're not understanding the situation, Major. I was stopped by the shield--you weren't. I'm infected. You have to leave before you catch anything."
"I understand completely, Rodney. You're the one not thinking clearly." John paused, making sure he held McKay's complete attention. "What did I have that you didn't?"
McKay's brow furrowed for a second before he broke into a wide grin. "You held the key."
"Indeed I did." John patted Rodney on the head. "I guess we'll have to go through together."
"But how did I get through in the first place?"
"Maybe it was because you were holding on to me when we came through."
"I was?" McKay asked.
"You were."
"Must've been to steady myself."
"I'm sure that's all it was." John gave McKay a hand up. "You ready to blow this popsicle stand?"
"More than I can say."
John drawled, "So should we hold hands?"
"Now is not the time to expand your dating horizons," McKay snapped back. "I think my holding on to your shirt will suffice."
"Fine, if you wanna play hard to get."
"Major, this infantile behavior of yours is getting old."
"Then I guess we better get out of here before you're forced to hear any more."
Holding the crystal tight, John headed for the transporter, McKay's hand twisted in a death-grip on his shirt. They got within five feet of the only exit before being unceremoniously propelled backward by the shield.
John lay on the floor, collecting his thoughts and trying to regain the use of his battered body. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the ceiling, not bothering to get up. "This sucks," he said finally.
"I must agree," responded McKay. "I warned you and you refused to listen to me . . . again."
"Warned me about what?"
"Obviously, you are now infected as well."
"How do you figure that?"
"The shield deflected both of us this time."
"Oh." John closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. "Well, in that case . . . I think I'm going to pass out for a second here."
"This is no time for joking--this is serious."
"I know, Rodney, I'm totally serious. I'm taking a break."
"What? Why?" McKay voice rose in panic. He grabbed John's arm.
John pushed the hands away.
Rodney took a deep breath, actively trying to calm himself. Putting on a bright, fake smile, he asked, "Can I get you anything?"
"Sure," John said, "I'll take a beer and the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue."
"There's no call to get snippy."
"I'm not snippy, I'm tired. Back off." John let the crystal slide from his grasp as he placed his hands over his face.
McKay reached over, grabbed the crystal, and stood. "Well, fine, okay." He started to walk circles around the area.
Cracking his eyes open, John noticed the scientist was limping slightly. "You okay, Rodney?"
"No, I am not okay. I am stuck in an Ancient prison, my leg hurts, and I am on the verge of a hypoglycemic reaction."
"Oh, yeah, we were headed to the mess hall, weren't we?"
"Yes, we were, and if you hadn't noticed . . . we didn't get there."
"Actually, I had noticed. The mess hall has windows." John sighed. "Why don't you see how close Ford and Teyla are?"
Depressing the button on the radio did nothing. "And now my radio is broken!" McKay yelled. He stomped around in place before settling down and asking snidely, "Are you going to get up, Major?"
"I would if I could. I think that last jolt knocked something loose."
"What?" McKay blanched.
"I'm saying, I'll be needing some assistance from the good doctor Beckett pretty damn soon."
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yes. I think we'd better work on an alternate way outta here."
"We? We?! You can't even get up. How are we going to get out of here? Our radios are down--we don't know what they're doing out there. They don't know what we're doing in here. So it's up to us. To me. As usual. Am I the only one in this entire city who can fix anything? People always look to me for answers. Not that I don't normally have them, but I'm not omniscient."
John closed his eyes and listened to the rambling rant of Dr. Rodney McKay. It was when the scientist's mouth was running as fast as his brain that things began to come together. Now John just had to hold on until that moment of brilliance came. He had ignored the pain in his chest for as long as he could, blocking it out by focusing on the pain in his head, but it was getting harder to breathe. He was getting scared, not only for himself, but for McKay if something should happen to him. Rodney McKay was not known for his calm, collected manner in the face of adversity, and John ultimately felt responsible for him.
"Now if we assume we are not infected-because if we are, there is no way in hell we are getting out of here--then there must be some other reason why we're trapped." McKay kept pacing around the room, holding the crystal in one hand and tapping it against the other. "If it isn't infection and that's a long--a very long-shot, than it has to be something you or I did that changed. So what did we do?" He paused. "What did you do?"
John was jerked from his pain-filled meditation by an insistent tap on his shoulder. "Yes, McKay?"
"I said, 'What did you do?'"
John opened his eyes to see McKay settled on his haunches, a question in his eyes. "What did I do when?"
"When you successfully crossed the shield."
"I carried the crystal and walked through it."
"That's it?"
"Yep."
"It can't be."
"Sorry, Rodney. I can make something up for you if you'd like."
"Not helpful, Major, not helpful."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Think back . . . "
"And?"
"Shut up . . . wait a minute . . . think . . . "
"About what?"
"Has anyone ever explained what 'shut up' means?" Rodney snapped. "I need silence. Now. I'm trying to think."
John rolled his eyes. He wasn't about to tell McKay--no more pressure needed--but his body was really starting to hurt. If it kept up, there was no way he'd be able to stop a moan from escaping, which would undoubtedly make Rodney nervous. And a nervous Rodney tended to make John nervous as well.
"Now the crystal imprinted on you, so you're the one the shield should work for, only it didn't work. We know Ancient technology has a mental component . . . . What were you thinking when you walked through?"
"Probably that I wanted to get the hell outta here."
"That's it! It's got to be it. Not only does the key have to be in your possession, you have to want to leave. Perhaps this was a prison--a type of solitary confinement. Only the guard would be allowed access and they wouldn't want the possibility of the prisoner overpowering the guard and simply dragging his body through with him . . . or her . . . it?"
"Amazing," John deadpanned. "Does this mean I have to try to walk though the field again?" John was a tad apprehensive at the idea--reasonably, he thought.
McKay must have noticed the hesitation. "I'm afraid so, Major. You're the only one who can."
"Great." John sighed. "Okay, you're going to have to help me up."
The scientist moved forward to assist, but John waved him off. "Wait a sec, let me get ready." With his luck, McKay would yank him up and break a few more ribs. John sat up slowly, holding his arm to his torso. Rolling to his knees, he held out his free hand. "All right."
McKay, to his credit, pulled John gently to his feet, holding him steady when he wavered. Sheppard closed his eyes to regain his equilibrium. Opening them, he held out his hand. McKay plunked the crystal into it, and together they started shuffling toward the transporter. As they approached the "line of demarcation," Sheppard flinched. "You sure about this?"
"Absolutely." McKay nodded. "I think."
"Not instilling a lot of confidence, McKay."
"We have no other choice."
"Confidence instilled. Let's go." John took a deep breath and moved forward, thinking, I want out, I want out, I want out, until they were safely inside the transporter. Sheppard immediately slid to the floor, too tired and sore to remain upright. On the opposite wall, the screen lit up with possible transfer points.
"Where do you want to go?" McKay asked.
"Just push a damn button, McKay."
"Right, of course."
John's eyesight was hazy as Rodney reached a hand to the screen. The last thing John heard before he lost consciousness was McKay bellowing.
* * * * *
After randomly choosing a site for transport, Rodney turned to see Major Sheppard fading fast. As soon as the doors opened, Rodney stuck his head out and yelled for help. Kneeling down to check on Sheppard, Rodney could see the major's chest rising and falling. Though momentarily relieved, Rodney knew that status could change at any moment. Anxious, he realized no one had answered his first shout, so he called again.
As soon as an airman arrived, Rodney snatched his radio and called Beckett.
The airman helped Rodney carefully drag Sheppard out of the transporter, allowing Beckett to "beam" directly to them. Although the doctor wasn't happy with them for moving the major, he was smart enough to realize time was of the essence. And Rodney, oh so helpfully, added that Sheppard had already moved himself twice after being injured.
Within a minute, Carson, two aides, and a multitude of equipment were exiting the transporter. Rodney had no idea how everything and everyone could have fit inside. It looked like a clown car unloading at the circus.
Rodney was quickly pushed out of the way, watching and listening as they worked on the major. He didn't recognize a lot of the medical terms, but, to him, none of what they said seemed good. Once Sheppard was stabilized, Carson and company placed him on a gurney and hustled him to the infirmary.
In a daze, Rodney followed, trying to comprehend that Sheppard had needed to be stabilized. It suggested the major had not been stable. Not stable meant unstable. Even for someone as medically ignorant as Rodney, it sent a definite message: Sheppard had been bad off. Worse than Rodney had guessed. But why would he keep that from him? With startling clarity, Rodney knew. Sheppard hadn't wanted to worry him.
That son of a bitch.
* * * * *
Sounds and smells began to break through the dark of oblivion. Reluctant to part with the happily pain-free existence, John nonetheless knew he would have to give it up. Like they said, there was no time like the present. Forcing his eyes open, he blinked against the harsh, bright lights.
"About time."
John turned his head toward the voice. McKay was sitting on the next bed, his legs swinging freely.
"How long?" John rasped.
Jumping off the bed, McKay picked up a cup, holding it as John sipped water through the straw. "Fourteen hours, give or take," the scientist answered.
"Thanks." John looked around. "You been here the whole time?"
McKay snorted. "You wish. I have many, many duties on Atlantis, and none of them include babysitting recalcitrant majors."
John didn't know why McKay's blunt statement should disappoint him. It wasn't as though the two of them were friends or anything. Not really.
Beckett chuckled as he walked up. "Aye, he's just been checking in every half-hour to make sure I haven't cut you up for spare parts."
John glanced at McKay, noticing the scientist seemed embarrassed by Beckett's revelation. That made him feel better, though he couldn't say why.
"I-I merely wanted to ensure our ranking military officer remained as such," McKay stuttered. "Who knows how the next-in-line would mess things up?"
"Yeah," John agreed, letting McKay off the hook, "you never know about those military guys. I'd hate for Weir to have to stage a coup."
"Precisely." McKay nodded, smiling. "She may be a wonderful diplomat, but her 'scheming skills' are severely lacking. I would be forced to take over for the good of the mission."
"Long live King Rodney," John hailed.
"You see why he has to survive?" McKay asked Beckett. "No one else seems to understand my importance."
"Aye, that's probably true." Beckett pushed McKay aside and checked John's stats. "You seem to be coming along right nice, though I dare say you'd heal a damn spot faster if you'd actually take it seriously when restricted to limited duty."
John opened his mouth to argue, but Beckett beat him to the punch.
"Shut it! I dinna want to hear anything about how innocent it all was and how it wasna your fault. You're a grown man, Major, and you have to take responsibility for your actions, good and bad."
"Yeah, okay, Doc." Desperate to change the subject, John said, "I'm just glad to be out of that prison."
"Sanitarium," Beckett corrected.
"Huh?"
McKay explained, "Apparently, one of their own went a little crazy and needed to be confined for the safety of the others. The key was needed to enter and exit. The shield was to keep the inmate from jury-rigging the transporter and escaping."
Beckett said, "We finally found the doctor's file that gave us the details."
"I believe," McKay continued, "the crystal thought you were the doctor and would let you in and out quite readily. I, on the other hand--"
"Could've been the loon," John finished with a smirk.
"Not really a stretch," Beckett agreed.
John smiled at McKay's scowl. "But how did the doctor's key end up in your lab?" the major wondered.
"Well, hmm, all's well that ends well, right? I'll check back later to see if you're up for a snack or a hand of cards." McKay backed toward the door.
"Not so fast," Beckett snapped. "Where did that crystal come from?"
"Carson, I can't be expected to recall every single insignificant--"
"Where?" Beckett demanded.
McKay waved his hands, placating. "It might have, and I stress might, have come from around this vicinity . . . somewhere."
"You stole it from my infirmary, didn't you?"
"Stole? No, I simply . . . misplaced it into my pocket," McKay finished.
"I think you'd better leave before I 'misplace' my foot in your arse," Beckett snapped.
McKay turned and hurried out without another word.
"And keep your bloody mitts off my things!" the Scot yelled after him.
"That's telling 'im," John remarked.
Beckett turned with an angry glare. "Don't you think you're getting off lightly, Major. You managed to break three of your formerly cracked ribs and came damn close to puncturing your heart." The doctor pointed a finger. "You would've bled out like a stuck pig in seconds. You were damn lucky."
"Sir, yes, sir."
"Don't you get smart with me, laddie. This time you are going to follow my instructions to the letter. Elizabeth has already offered the services of Sergeant Bates to follow you around if need be."
John shuddered and crossed his heart with a finger. "That won't be necessary, Doc. I promise I'll behave."
Beckett harrumphed and walked away, muttering about impatient patients and the lack of respect for the entire medical community.
* * * * *
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Stop sneaking up on me!"
John smirked. Leaning on the bench where McKay was working, he craned his neck, looking at the laptop. "What're you working on?"
"A way to detect Air Force majors before they scare the living crap out of me."
"How's it coming?"
"Obviously, it's a failure."
"Oh, that's too bad." John continued to watch McKay work.
Rodney sighed heavily. "Can I help you, Major?"
"Yep."
Waiting for details that didn't come, McKay barked, "With what?"
"Beckett's got me on limited duty for two more weeks."
"Let me guess . . . you're bored."
"Yep."
"All right, you can stay. Just don't--"
"--touch anything. Yeah, I got that message loud and clear." John walked around the room, curious to see what new things McKay had found since his last visit. "So what's this thing do?" he asked, picking up a doohickey.
"Major!"
end