Closing Two Eyes 2 of 2
A/N: See the first chapter for Disclaimer! Then, enjoy!
Closing Two Eyes - Chapter Two
John’s eyes flutter closed, and the panic Rodney has been feeling up to this point spikes hard and heavy in his chest. But it’s short-lived because then Sheppard’s eyes flutter back open and the man’s breathing improves. Rodney doesn’t even think about how odd it is that the man who up until a minute ago was breathing raggedly and painfully now seems able to draw breath easily. Maybe it’s because a small part of his brain wants to believe his friend is going to be all right. Maybe it’s because he’s too afraid to think clearly. Regardless of the reason, though, it’s a mistake not to wonder about the abrupt change in Sheppard’s status.
It’s a mistake, but Rodney doesn’t realize that yet.
“Why should I let you forget about it, McKay?” Sheppard demands, and the words leave his mouth with a bitterness Rodney has rarely ever heard, and one that has never been directed at him. “It’s your ego that almost got us killed then, and it’s what’s probably going to get me killed now. You couldn’t wait until Ronon and I secured the place. You’re always just a little too eager and willing to risk all our lives for some scientific curiosity.”
“What in the hell are you talking about, Colonel?” Rodney asks sharply. The words hurt, but at the same time they’re an affront. Especially since Sheppard was just as eager to search the palace and the one to command the team to split up so they could explore the large space quicker.
“I’m talking about your huge ego, McKay. How can you call yourself a genius when the simplest ideas go way over your head?” Sheppard’s face expresses abject disgust.
Confusion washes over Rodney. “Are you sure you’re all right, Sheppard?” he asks the fallen man concernedly. “You sure you didn’t crack your head when you crashed to the floor?” Rodney leans forward to get a better look at the back of Sheppard’s head, but the man moves away from him as well as he can given his current status of being pasted to the floor by a glazed mosaic ceiling.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” John snarls, and there’s a black, vicious look in the man’s eyes that has Rodney stumbling backward and yelling into his radio again.
“Teyla! Teyla, are you still there?” he queries, as an obviously altered Sheppard begins to direct a continuous flow of obscenities at him. “Teyla! Something’s really wrong with Colonel Sheppard! I think he’s possessed,” he yells even though Teyla has not yet acknowledged him.
“You shouldn’t be here, you sanctimonious bastard!” Sheppard yells and fights against the weight that’s pressing against his chest. Rodney is frightened by both the colonel’s behavior and the fact he isn’t registering any pain from his struggles. And although normally he doesn’t want to see anyone in pain, Rodney’s pretty sure it’s bordering on a special type of weirdness when a man isn’t fazed by cracked ribs being crushed into lung space.
“Colonel, please, you need to settle down,” Rodney says, only to receive an almost animalistic growl from the man in return. “Sheppard-”
“Rodney?”
It’s Teyla’s voice, and Rodney hasn’t heard anything quite so lovely in some time. “Teyla! Oh, thank god! Where the hell are you? Sheppard’s really wigging out and-”
“Rodney, you must slow down. What has happened?” Teyla sounds amazingly calm.
Rodney feels a rush of irritation because it seems as if he’s in this state of panic all on his own. Nevertheless, he forces himself to calm down and ignore the stream of cursing Sheppard has started up again. “The Colonel started acting weird a few minutes ago,” Rodney says as slowly as his fear will allow him. “Where are you? We need to get Beckett here as soon as possible.”
“Weird? What do you mean, Rodney?” Teyla asks, and her breathing quickens noticeably.
“Yelling and fighting! He’s actually trying to pick a fight with me from under a ceiling!” His feeble composure’s beginning to dissolve. “I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself.”
“All right, Rodney. Try to keep Colonel Sheppard calm. Ronon and I are nearing the palace’s gate and will notify Atlantis that we are in need of a medical team to care for the colonel. I will rendezvous with you as soon as I possibly can.”
“Keep him calm! Are you kidding?” Rodney yells exasperatedly as he watches Sheppard continue to struggle and curse. “He’s acting crazy, and there’s no reasoning with him! I mean, I’m surprised he’s not frothing at the mouth!”
“Rodney! You must do the best you can!” Teyla commands.
Rodney’s been giving into his panic again. “Okay, okay, okay,” he snaps angrily. “I’ll do the best I can. But trust me when I say it’s not going to be easy.”
“Trust you! Trust you!” Sheppard roars as Teyla signs off the radio. “That’s a laugh! No, not just a laugh! That’s hysterical! Whoever the fuck is stupid enough to trust Doctor Rodney McKay and his bountiful ego deserves whatever the hell happens to them! Trust! Trust you! God damn it, get me out of here, and I’ll show you just how much I-”
John’s tirade abruptly ends, and the man’s eyes roll in their sockets. His breathing falters, and suddenly he’s transformed from the frightening distortion of the man Rodney’s grown to respect, into his familiar friend with a newly broken body.
“Rodney?” Sheppard breathes his name, and then he’s unconscious again.
Rodney rushes forward and checks his pulse. He’s still alive but weaker, and McKay can’t help but wonder how badly Sheppard aggravated his injuries during his brief episode of insanity. He brushes a hand through the colonel’s plaster-coated hair, and although he finds a little blood, there’s no indication of a skull fracture. He takes a moment to contemplate that maybe the colonel has a concussion, and maybe such an injury could explain the bizarre behavior he just witnessed.
Rodney sits down heavily next to Sheppard, all the while maintaining his grasp on the colonel’s wrist in an effort to both monitor the man’s pulse and to preserve some sort of physical contact with him. He bows his head as he tries to make sense of this situation that has him reeling with fear and self-doubt. Sheppard’s words of condemnation momentarily overwhelm Rodney’s thoughts, and he feels the sharp edge of defeat press against him. For a little while now, he’s been under the shaky impression he was winning back the colonel’s trust after the disastrous blow it had taken from the Dorandan incident. And yet he now knows he was deluded in his supposition, because the colonel just made it clear, so painfully clear, that his trust in Rodney is well beyond repair.
The possibility of irreparable damage to their relationship is something Rodney, a man of many insecurities, worried about for weeks after Doranda. But he steadily moved away from such worries as time and consideration showed him Sheppard was open and willing to give Rodney a chance to redeem himself.
The disparity between what he, to this point, presumed and what Sheppard’s rant showed him stimulates a cascade of quieter, more subtle thoughts. His reawakened insecurity drowns them out at first. But soon they’re gaining momentum and becoming the most important thoughts Rodney has had in a while.
Because now, as Sheppard’s hateful words continue to echo within the confines of Rodney’s agile mind, there’s a small, submerged part of him that can’t help considering that something a little more strange, and possibly a lot more dangerous, is going on with Sheppard than what can be explained by a run-of-the-mill head wound.
A little more strange. And a lot more dangerous.
oOo
John’s vision is decidedly blurry when he opens his eyes, but he can see well enough to discern Rodney’s stricken expression. When he clears his throat, which is coated with so much dust, it feels like desert sands, the sound of his waking draws Rodney’s attention to him. And now, as the physicist leans over him, Sheppard can see that Rodney doesn’t look so much unhappy as he does worried.
“Colonel? How are you feeling?” McKay asks, smiling in a way he probably thinks is reassuring but which just succeeds in freaking John way the hell out.
“What’s…with the pearly…whites?” he asks in a rough whisper. His breathing is more labored now than it was the last time he was conscious, and he can’t account for the change. Since any shifting around could worsen his injuries, he’s been careful to just lie still. And as far as he recollects, there’s no reason for the pain that has ratcheted up several notches since he was last aware.
“You okay?” Rodney asks, and now he’s looking more concerned.
“Breathin’s…worse,” John responds. Rodney comes closer, and John feels the vague pressure of the other man’s fingers on the pulse point in his right wrist.
“You must have exacerbated your injuries when you went all crazy earlier,” Rodney mutters.
“Wh…what?” John asks dumbly.
“You don’t remember?”
“What the…hell…are you talkin’...about?” John asks and draws in a breath that lies heavy and thick in his damaged lungs.
“You flew off the handle just a little while ago, Colonel,” McKay explains in a bitter tone that has John wondering what the hell really happened. His confusion must be evident because Rodney apparently feels the need to clarify. “You know? Bonkers. Cuckoo. You were talking all sorts of nonsense.”
“Nonsense? What…sorta nonsense?”
“Oh, well, let’s see. Let’s start with the swearing, and the fighting, and, oh, let’s not forget you babbling on and on about how much you hate me.” Rodney says the words quickly, but John can tell he’s been hurt by whatever it was that happened.
“Rodney, I don’t…remember. Must…be my head. I-”
“Oh, yeah, sure, that’s what I thought at first,” Rodney says. He bends his neck and rubs at his temples as if he’s in pain. “But then I started getting the feeling that even if you were half out of your head, there was a part of you that really meant what you were saying.”
“Rodney, I don’t know-”
“This whole situation is completely FUBAR,” Rodney says and then settles down against the nearest wall, while John feels a momentary stab of surprise that the physicist has been reduced to using the harsh military phrase.
“Rodney, what…what’s-”
“Never mind, I need to sleep,” Rodney mutters. Since he’s trapped beneath the ceiling rubble, John can barely see Rodney from where he is sitting slumped against the dusty, ornate wall. The dim light also does nothing to illuminate the room or the situation, but John can see Rodney’s eyes flicker closed for a moment.
It’s a quiet moment, and one in which he has time to think something is really wrong. John feels a vague misapprehension and a hazy feeling of being out of control. He’s wondering what it all means when suddenly Rodney is awake and staring too intently into his eyes.
oOo
Rodney’s really not sure what the hell is happening, because one moment he was watching over Sheppard, and now he’s a passenger in his own body. He’s staring down at Sheppard and can feel an odd sort of smirk passing over his face, but he’s not the one doing it. There’s no way he would be taunting a so-obviously distressed Colonel Sheppard, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.
“Rodney? You…you okay?” Sheppard stutters the words out in halting puffs of air, and his eyes are turning dark and concerned.
Rodney wants to say, no, he absolutely isn’t okay, but instead he involuntarily shouts something unintelligible.
“Rodney?” Sheppard asks weakly, obviously working off his last reserves.
And that’s when Rodney feels an inexplicable upwelling of anger, but he’s completely helpless to do anything but act on it.
The fury is unreasonable because something is obviously wrong with Sheppard. That’s why he was acting so uncharacteristically before. Rodney figures that given the situation with the ceiling on his chest and all, Sheppard has every right to be a little cranky, so it’s okay the man acted so poorly, even though it was a painful display. But it’s not okay Rodney’s feeling as he is right now, because there’s definitely nothing wrong with him.
Nothing, that is, except that he apparently has absolutely no control over his own actions.
So when his hand snakes out and grabs a shard of colorful but sharp-edged tile, and when the same traitorous hand reaches toward one of Sheppard’s barely exposed hands and slices down, Rodney is screaming in his head.
Sheppard’s eyes widen with pain and dismay, and Rodney’s silent scream surges up through his throat and issues out from between his lips. But it’s not a scream that resounds through the tall and decorous room. To Rodney’s utter horror, it’s hideous laughter that drives hard from his throat.
“Rodney? Wha-” Sheppard asks, his breathing fast and panicked.
“Always have to be such a hotshot, don’t you, Sheppard?” Rodney hears himself snarl, and he has no idea where the words are coming from. All he’s aware of, all he’s keenly aware of, is that he’s completely powerless to stop whatever it is he’s currently doing.
Powerless to stop the repulsive words he says to one of the few friends he’s ever had. Powerless to stop from moving to Sheppard’s exposed right hand and bending three fingers back until they pop and break. Powerless to keep from grinning inanely when he hears Sheppard moan in pain, or to stop slicing down and drawing more blood from his other hand.
Rodney sees the blood well and hears the drip, drip, drip as red pearls patter onto the elaborately decorated floor. He’s horrified and wants to scream again, but what escapes him is more gleeful laughter.
“Rodney, please.” Sheppard’s pained words halt whatever it is that has taken over Rodney’s body, and he’s able to hold the shard of razor-sharp tile away from the bloody work he’s already accomplished. “Rodney…something’s wrong…w...with us,” the colonel says.
No shit, Rodney thinks. He’s not a religious man, but he suddenly wishes he was because then he’d seriously consider doing an exorcism on himself.
The distant pain that has been plaguing him a while practically skewers him now. He almost falls over from it, but he doesn’t mind it all too much because with its presence he’s able to pull the makeshift weapon in his hand away from Sheppard’s flesh. It takes him a moment to recover, but then he’s sitting up and making a voluntary move toward Sheppard’s face.
The colonel is looking the worse for wear, and for the first time, Rodney sees a faint shade of blue discoloring the skin around the injured man’s mouth.
“You all right, Colonel?” Rodney asks, and feels like he’s close to the edge of some precipice where sanity no longer exists.
“I…think something’s wrong,” John says, and passes out again.
As quiet yet important cascades of thought free themselves in Rodney’s mind, he finds he can’t agree more. He checks Sheppard’s increasingly weak pulse and can’t help but study his bloody handiwork. The cuts on the colonel’s hands are shallow, but they’re bleeding freely. And as Sheppard’s right hand starts to quickly swell around the broken fingers, something in Rodney begins to shatter with the thought of how much additional pain he’s just put his friend through.
Why do opulent buildings crack and fall, and why do trusted protectors abandon him during his work? Do injuries cause insanity or does insanity cause injuries? He’s not sure what is happening or what will happen, but he knows he’s a danger now to Sheppard. As dangerous as or more so than the injuries from which the man is currently suffering, and Rodney doesn’t really want to find out which is the case.
Instead, he opts to leave Sheppard as safe as he possibly can be in the current situation. Opts to leave in order to keep from doing more harm. Opts to leave, and begins to do so, but fails when the pain in his head returns, and he collapses to the cool, marbled floor.
He’s unconscious before his face smashes into the patina of dust coating the fancy surface, and he’s still unconscious and lying there when the Atlantis rescue team finds him some minutes later.
oOo
The all-too-familiar sounds and scents of the Atlantis infirmary surround Rodney as he wakes. When his eyes open and eventually clear, he’s shocked to see that practically every bed in the infirmary is occupied by an Atlantis inhabitant. Even Beckett is being checked out by one of his own nurses, and he doesn’t exactly look happy about the situation, despite the nurse’s broad and amused smile.
Carson glances over at Rodney and shuffles off the bed he’s been sitting on.
“I’m all right, lass,” the doctor says grumpily as he shrugs off the nurse, who is protesting his behavior.
The nurse looks less than satisfied but gives up the struggle anyway.
“How are you doing, Rodney?” Beckett asks as he settles beside McKay and begins monitoring his pulse. For the first time, Rodney notices there’s a bandage on the left side of the other man’s forehead, and his right eye is very obviously blackened.
“What the hell happened to you?” Rodney asks, ignoring Carson’s question. His voice sounds hoarse, and he wonders how long he’s been unconscious.
“Long story,” Carson says, and smiles self-consciously. “Let’s check you out, then I’ll explain as much as I know.”
At first, he doesn’t resist when Carson begins his exam. But then, as he looks around again at all the people lying in infirmary beds in various states of injury, Rodney pulls the shreds of his injured dignity together and acts accordingly for the first time since waking up.
“No, why don’t you tell me what the hell happened, right now?” he demands, pulling away from Beckett. “Because it looks like something really important is going on, and I have the idea you’re going to need my brain to help you out. Heaven knows there’s no one else in this galaxy who seems able to pull our asses out of trouble as well as I can. So why don’t you-”
The words die on his lips as they remind him of Sheppard’s earlier ruthless criticism, and Rodney searches desperately for any sign of the man. “Where’s Sheppard?” he asks, and feels the blood drain from his face when Beckett sighs heavily and pulls the stethoscope away.
“He’s going to be all right, Rodney. He was injured pretty badly in the fall, and it’s going to be some time before he’s able to move about.”
“Where is he? I want to see him,” Rodney insists, but there’s an especially familiar glint of warning in Carson’s eyes.
“You’ve just been through an ordeal, Rodney, and I need to check you out. Then give me a moment to explain what happened before you go barging in on the colonel. He’s fine for now, so you might as well let me have my way. And don’t give me any of your lip or else I’ll use the restraints.”
“You wouldn’t!” Rodney yells, offended.
“I would and you know it,” Carson says in return.
And Rodney does know it, so he surrenders, albeit reluctantly and with more than a little bit to say about it.
oOo
Elizabeth and Teyla find him a little while later, and they’re actually the ones who explain what happened.
“Nanobots.” Elizabeth says the word grimly, and Rodney feels both angry and scared at the same time.
“I’m really starting to hate those things,” he grumbles.
“Apparently, the late inhabitants of the planet you visited had a long-standing feud with the Ancients,” Elizabeth says with an understanding smile. “They developed nanotechnology that specifically targeted individuals with the Ancient gene. The nanobots play around with brain function, although Carson isn’t quite sure what exactly they were programmed to do.”
“Drive everyone around them nuts is my first guess,” Rodney says, considering how crazy Sheppard acted. But as he says the words, another thought niggles at him. He ignores it for the moment.
“I would have to agree, Rodney,” Teyla says with a calm smile. “Shortly after the rescue team entered the palace, personnel who possessed the Ancient gene began acting strangely. It was a struggle to regain control, as they had become quite violent. Luckily, Doctor Zelenka was on the team as well, and he quickly determined the cause of the strange behavior.”
“Great, now I suppose I’ll never hear the end of how he saved my life,” Rodney says, groaning. “Please tell me you zapped us with an EMP, and I don’t have crazy robot bugs floating around in my brain anymore.”
“They were never in your brain, Rodney,” Carson says, stepping up behind the two women. “They were just in your bloodstream wreaking havoc on brain function through biochemical manipulation. Chances are the people who designed the technology never found a way to directly cross the blood-brain barrier, so this was the next best answer. Good thing, though, because having a bunch of dead robots in your brain isn’t exactly healthy. The ones remaining in your bloodstream will eventually be excreted from your body, and I don’t foresee them causing any further damage.”
“Nice shiner you’ve got there, Carson,” Rodney says with a smirk. He can’t help himself. Carson’s acting way too chipper.
“Yes, well, um, I was affected, too,” Carson says awkwardly, and Rodney’s pleased to see the doctor’s too-bright expression dim a bit.
The niggling thought from before turns into an almost-memory of blood and sharp ceramic, and Rodney is suddenly worried about Sheppard again. “Where’s the colonel? Can I see him now that you’ve all had your way with me?” Rodney asks. He’s trying to sound snarky and offhanded, but the attempt falls flat when he hears the anxiety in his voice swelling.
“Rodney, about the colonel-” Carson begins, obviously upset, but he’s interrupted by Elizabeth.
“Why don’t you both go check on Ronon and let me talk to Rodney alone for a while?” she asks Teyla and Carson, but it’s obvious to them all her words are more command than suggestion.
Teyla bows her head in graceful assent, and, although Carson looks as if he’s about to argue, he eventually leaves after a pointed look from Elizabeth.
“What’s the matter with him?” Rodney asks once the two of them are as alone as they are going to be in the crowded infirmary.
“Rodney, when we found Colonel Sheppard, he was seriously injured. He had several broken ribs, a fractured sternum, and a slight concussion, all which were most likely caused by the fall. But in addition to these injuries, he had numerous shallow stab wounds as well as three broken fingers,” Elizabeth says evenly, then adds, “Obviously, Carson can’t be sure these minor injuries weren’t also caused by the fall. But they were located relatively far from the other injuries on the Colonel’s body, and given the situation with the nanobots as well as the state in which the search team found you, well, there’s some question as to how those injuries were actually sustained.”
Elizabeth’s voice drifts off, and Rodney is left with an unclear feeling of foreboding. “What? What are you saying?” he asks in a tone of voice that sounds irritated but that actually stems from growing apprehension.
Elizabeth says nothing, but the strong and even gaze that she shares with Rodney is enough for comprehension to fully wend its way into his consciousness.
A rush of sudden shame forces Rodney to close his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Elizabeth anymore. “I hurt him,” he whispers the words, and almost can’t believe he’s saying them. And yet, as he speaks of unimaginable betrayal, his unclear memories begin to focus. His hands tingle with the vague sensation of something cool and slick and razor-sharp pressed against resisting flesh, a shard of something that is at once innocuous and dangerous, and which is held tightly within his shaking grasp. He recollects a surge of anger that rivals lunacy and shudders in reaction.
“It looks as if that’s what happened, yes,” Elizabeth says. She puts a soothing hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off.
“I hurt him,” Rodney says again, this time even softer. He doesn’t want to believe what he’s saying, but awful memories and the honesty of Elizabeth’s words are making it hard for him to ignore the truth.
“Rodney, it wasn’t your fault. John understands, I’m sure--” Elizabeth says. She tries to offer comfort again, but Rodney won’t allow it.
Instead, he turns his back to her and shrinks away from her touch. “Tell it to someone who didn’t just hurt their best friend,” Rodney says and presses his eyes closed.
oOo
Rodney’s still feeling a little weak and dizzy when Carson says he can visit Sheppard, so he’s forced to sit in a wheelchair that is subsequently pushed by a kind-looking nurse. Of all those infected with this newest nanotechnology, only he seems to be affected by residual weakness, and Beckett thinks that has something to do with the length of time the ‘bots were in his bloodstream. More than likely, Carson hypothesizes, Rodney’s immune system started defending his body, and that’s causing him to feel flu-like aches and fatigue.
Rodney doesn’t really give a shit about explanations. He just wants to see his friend.
His chair is pushed to the farthest edge of the infirmary and around a set of curtains, behind which Sheppard is lying deathly still on a bed. Rodney is so shocked by the man’s appearance that he doesn’t even notice when the nurse pats his arm and leaves.
In addition to the expected tubes and needles inserted into Sheppard’s skin, he also has an oxygen mask firmly settled on his face. He looks too thin and drawn, and there are lines of pain around his mouth and closed eyes that make Rodney nervous. His breathing is shallow and unsteady, but the oxygen is helping, and he’s going to be fine. At least, that’s what Beckett keeps telling Rodney.
Pneumonia has begun to settle in the colonel’s lungs, but Carson has the sick man pumped so full of antibiotics now that he’s probably going to be nauseated for weeks. The doctor’s hopeful the heavy doses of medication will keep the bacteria at bay.
Rodney looks to where Sheppard’s hands are lying under the blanket, and knows the fingers on the right one are splinted. Memory flashes of healthy digits that shift and burst in his hand as he pulls and pulls and pulls, has Rodney practically gagging.
Sheppard coughs hard, and although the sound is muffled by the oxygen mask, there is no doubt it’s terribly painful. His eyes press even more tightly shut, and then the man struggles to sit up. Without thinking, Rodney stands and is at his side, helping him into a position more conducive to coughing up a lung.
Sheppard calms, and Rodney stands back. John wipes his bandaged left hand over his face, and Rodney remembers the blood he made well up there. Suddenly, he is extremely fatigued and wants to sit down.
“Th…thanks,” Sheppard says before Rodney can return to his wheelchair. The man opens his eyes, and Rodney wants to weep when he sees his friend cringe at his presence. The motion is brief, and Sheppard recovers quickly, but it hurts.
Defeated, Rodney stumbles to the wheelchair and almost turns it over in his haste to sit down.
“Rodney, hey,” Sheppard says, and his voice is just a whisper of breath barely audible from beneath the oxygen mask.
Rodney sits in the wheelchair and quietly panics over what to say. He can’t seem to meet Sheppard’s gaze and, instead, with the same intensity with which he would study warp engines, examines the not-quite-red fabric of the infirmary scrubs he’s wearing.
“Rodney, hey,” Sheppard repeats, and Rodney can practically hear concern oozing out of the man’s pores. “Rodney, it’s-”
“Don’t you dare say it’s okay,” Rodney says harshly. “Because it’s not. It’s not okay. How can you say it’s okay when I hurt you?”
“Rodney-”
“I hurt you, Sheppard. I cut up your hands, and when that wasn’t enough, I broke your fingers. How in the hell can you even suggest that’s okay?!” Rodney is yelling, and somehow he ends up standing again. Somewhere in the unimportant distance, there’s a flurry of nervous activity. Sheppard makes a weak placating motion with his bandaged hand to someone who’s apparently peeking around the screen, then pulls the oxygen mask to the side of his face so he can talk clearly.
“You weren’t the only one affected, Rodney. Don’t forget that. And maybe I don’t have a clear memory of what happened, but I remember enough to know I had no control over what I was doing or saying,” Sheppard says in a breathy whisper. He fiercely clenches his jaw as he seems to struggle with what he wants to say next. “And just be happy I was trapped under a ceiling, because I have the feeling that if I would’ve been let loose, I would have done more to you than bleed you a little.” The words are blurted out, and Rodney is temporarily shocked into silence.
After a while, when he finds his voice again, it’s high-pitched and shaky. “Really?”
“Yes, Rodney. Really,” Sheppard says. John closes his eyes, and Rodney watches him try to draw in deeper breaths. Hesitantly, he reaches over and gently replaces the mask over Sheppard’s face. Sheppard opens his eyes and looks at Rodney with gratitude.
“What else do you remember?” Rodney asks. “I-I mean, it’s just that I don’t remember much. Just being angry with you.”
“Same thing,” Sheppard says, and his voice sounds strange coming from beneath the mask. “I think I may have said some…things, too. You know? To you. I just remember wanting to hurt you, and when I couldn’t get free from the debris, I think I might have said some…stuff.”
Rodney remembers the pain of Sheppard’s fevered accusations and still can’t manage to get over it despite knowing the words were caused by crazy miniature robots rooting around in his friend’s brain.
“It wasn’t important,” he says around a dry mouth.
Sheppard doesn’t look as though he believes him. “I’m sorry,” he says, appearing exhausted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, McKay.”
Rodney wants to deny that Sheppard actually did hurt him. It’s an old defense mechanism, and he struggles against it for a moment before saying, “Yeah. I’m sorry, too.”
Sheppard looks uncomfortable, not just physically but with the conversation, as well. Talk stalls as they find themselves stuck in the quagmire of an awkward moment.
“Listen, Rodney, can we just do the manly thing and agree the whole situation was fucked up and go along as if nothing really happened?” Sheppard asks, breaking the ringing silence. Rodney is grateful for the return of words as well as for the suggestion that offers them both an easy out.
“Yeah, yeah. Sounds good to me,” he says eagerly. “I mean, you’re right, nothing really did happen. Well, actually, we really didn’t do anything, at least not to each other. I mean, the nanobots, well, I say we blame it all on them.”
“Damn nanobots,” Sheppard says, and looks decidedly more relaxed. “I’m really starting to hate those things.”
“That’s exactly what I said when I found out about them,” Rodney says.
“Hey, did they cause the glitch in the Ancient technology, too?” Sheppard asks, abruptly tense again. “I mean, what if those damn things contaminated the equipment we brought back? Couldn’t that be a problem?”
“They didn’t cause the issues with the technology,” Rodney says, shaking his head. He’s pleased to see Sheppard relax a bit. “The problems were caused by a signal emanating from somewhere in the palace. If the inhabitants of the planet were in a long-standing cold war with the Ancients, it would be reasonable to think they were just paranoid enough to want to screw around with any Ancient technology that was ‘misplaced’ by visiting Ancient diplomats. You know, bugs and all that other spy stuff. The signal was easily counteracted. Well, at least it was for me since, you know, I’m a genius and all.”
His offhanded comment brings back Sheppard’s hateful words before Rodney remembers they’ve agreed to do the “manly” thing. He makes a concerted attempt to brush off his discomfort.
“You remember that? The problem with the technology?” he asks, hoping to hide his embarrassment. Sheppard is shrewdly looking at him; Rodney’s discomfiture has not been missed. “It’s just that I wouldn’t have expected you to remember that, what with you acting weird practically from the moment we stepped out of the gate.”
“I didn’t remember, but Carson mentioned the tech problems to me. He also said I was the most affected by the nanobots because my Ancient gene is the strongest,” John says with typical snark and a mischievous waggle of his eyebrows.
“Yeah, well, my brain’s stronger than yours,” Rodney says, automatically responding to the invitation for comfortable banter.
“One word, Rodney. Mensa,” Sheppard says with another eyebrow waggle.
“Meaningless. Just because you passed a Mensa test doesn’t mean that your brain can take on mine. C’mon. Let’s try it. Let’s do it. My brain will have your brain crying for its momma within minutes. No, seconds. That’s right! In seconds, it’ll be begging for mercy!”
Sheppard laughs, then coughs. After he’s able to catch his breath again, he leans back looking weary but happy.
“I’d better go. Gotta rest up for the big brain battle. I’m in training, you know,” Rodney says.
Sheppard is fast becoming too exhausted to maintain his end of the conversation. “Okay. See you later, Rodney,” he says, then chuckles and coughs again.
Rodney turns the wheelchair around and is almost out from behind the curtains when Sheppard clears his throat and speaks.
“Rodney, if I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be on my team,” he says solemnly to McKay’s back.
Rodney’s head involuntarily ducks as he feels true relief and forgiveness wash over him. “I wouldn’t be on your team if I didn’t trust you either, Colonel,” he replies, without turning. He hears Sheppard draw in a shaky but comforted breath, then smiles as he returns to the bustle of the crowded infirmary.