New SGA Fic: In The Blink of An Eye (3/3)
Title: In The Blink of An Eye
Author: katstale
Words: 17520
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rodney volunteers John to assist the locals in order to gain access to an Ancient structure. Unfortunately, things don't go quite according to plan. (ShepWhump, RodneyWump, All-around Angst)
Notes: First and foremost, I must apologize to everybetty for the long delay in posting this. I am SO very, very sorry for my tardiness. I can only hope you find it was worth the wait. Second, this was written for the sheps_atlantis ficathon. The prompt was for "ShepWhump... ShepWh- errr, I mean, infirmary scene (with Carson, natch), humor interspersed amongst the whumpage." everybetty, if this doesn't meet your expectations, I'll be happy to try it again after NaNoWriMo in December. :)
Part Three
There was nothing he could do but watch helplessly from above as John Sheppard fell from the sky. He looked down, horrified to find the trees coming up to meet them at an alarming rate. And then suddenly he *was* Sheppard and the trees caught him, slamming their branches into his body and tearing at every inch of exposed skin. Small branches grew ever larger, until limbs as big around as his thigh--or larger--were battering him. And then he saw the ground, rushing up to meet him at an incredible speed. He screamed, but no sound came out of his mouth, and still the ground kept coming. He tried to put his arms over his head to protect himself, but he couldn't make them move. He could see each leaf, each pebble, each clump of dirt clearly now as he continued to fall. And then there was impact.
Rodney gasped, his eyes flying open as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. A dream, he realized. It had all been a dream. Movement caught the corner of his eye and turned to look, stunned at the sight of John Sheppard standing next to his bed, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.
"Oh thank God! You're okay," marveled Rodney. He relaxed back into his pillow, closing his eyes to savor the welcome realization that it had all been a horrible, horrible nightmare.
Sheppard snorted. "If you call this okay," he said accusingly.
McKay cracked open one eye to look at him warily. "You're up and around, walking, talking, breathing, without even a scratch on you. What else would you call it?"
"No, I'm not," insisted Sheppard.
"Not what?" Rodney, still shaken by the dream, was a little slow on the uptake.
"You're supposed to be a genius; figure it out."
Annoyed, he opened both eyes, squinting to get a good look at the pilot as he checked off each point. "You're standing upright here without any difficulty, so up and around. Walking, check. Talking, yet another check..." His eyes widened in alarm as he took in the stillness of Sheppard's chest. "Oh my God! You-you-you're not breathing," he squeaked.
"Give the man a cigar," drawled Sheppard. "Of course I'm not breathing. I'm dead." His eyes glittered with anger. "I'm dead because YOU killed me."
Rodney's heart was again trying to beat its way out of his chest. "B-but I didn't know...I would never have..." He turned anguished eyes to his dead friend. "I-I-I didn't mean it--I swear I didn't mean for it to happen!"
John threw his hands up in the air, his face growing even darker. "Oh well, that makes all the difference then, doesn't it? He didn't mean it, so hey, so what if John Sheppard is DEAD? It's all okay because RODNEY MCKAY didn't mean for it to happen." The not-breathing Sheppard began to pace. "You were supposed to be my friend, Rodney! Well some friend you turned out to be! I'm dead, McKay--I'm dead and it's all YOUR fault!"
"No!" insisted Rodney. "No, this can't be happening! You were alive and we brought you back and Carson fixed you. You can't be dead." His voice grew smaller with each word. "You can't."
"Well I am--and you killed me. What kind of friend does something like that anyway, *Rodney*?"
"A bad one?" offered the physicist tentatively.
Dead-Sheppard wasn't amused. "No, McKay. A real friend doesn't kill people who are his friends--period! So I guess I know how you really feel about me after all this time, don't I?"
"NO! Don't you say that! I-I-I totally suck at the whole friends-thing, I freely admit that--but don't you EVER say that I did not care!"
The deceased colonel smiled malevolently. "Fine, then prove it."
"What? How?" asked McKay dubiously.
Dead-Sheppard made a show of pretending to think the matter over before responding. "Well now, the way I see it, if you were a real friend, you would gladly give exactly what you took from me--a life for life."
Rodney swallowed hard, not liking where the conversation appeared to be heading. "Um, uh, I don't know...I mean, I'm not sure..."
"You trying to weasel out of it?" demanded the colonel. "Because that would mean this whole friends-thing, as you so aptly put it, was nothing but a load of crap. Is that what you're saying, Rodney?"
"No! I-I was just wondering...how..." McKay couldn't bring himself to say the words.
"Oh don't worry," assured Dead-Sheppard. "I'll make sure it's fast and painless--even though my own death was anything but."
Rodney swallowed hard, knowing he was out of options. "Okay! All right. I admit it, I deserve this. I just..." His eyes widened at the large knife that Dead-Sheppard had pulled from his belt and was now holding over McKay's chest. Rodney's words died in his throat as the knife descended toward his heart, time having slowed to a crawl as he lay there helpless, waiting for the strike that would end his life. His heart pounded as he watched it come closer and closer, until finally, it plunged deep into his chest.
"Rodney!"
He could barely hear the voice calling his name over the screams that filled the air. There was a sharp sting on his cheek as Rodney's eyes popped open to reveal the worried face of Carson Beckett above him. He closed his mouth and the screams died away as he desperately gulped in air, shivering uncontrollably.
Carson reached for McKay's wrist, checking his pulse as he subtly observed the physicist. "Feeling a wee bit better now?"
Rodney nodded, but said nothing as he concentrated on breathing.
"Care to talk about it?" Though his tone was casual, there was no missing the Scot's concern--or his desire for his patient to comply.
McKay shook his head, closing his eyes and laying back as Beckett went about checking him over. The click and hiss of the ventilator nearby seemed to grow louder and louder, until finally he could stand the noise no more.
"I had a dream," he blurted out. "Well, more of a nightmare, really. I-I watched Sheppard falling from the sky after the crash and then suddenly I *was* Sheppard and the trees were coming at me really, really fast a-and I hit the ground but then I woke up, only I wasn't really awake at all. I was still dreaming, but in the dream I opened my eyes and Sheppard was there and-and he was okay--or at least I thought he was okay, but then we were talking and I found out that he wasn't okay at all because he was dead because I killed him which of course made him angry so he wanted me to pay him back for what I took from him and then he had this knife a-a-and-and he held it over me and-and then it was coming at me but I couldn't move and then it..." He shuddered violently, unable to get the words out to describe how it had felt when the knife had entered his chest.
"Easy there," soothed Carson, placing his hand supportively on McKay's shoulder. "Well that was quite the dream now, wasn't it? Lucky we both know something like that could never, ever happen for real."
Rodney didn't answer him, instead turning his head away. The constant clicking and hissing noises served as a constant reminder that John Sheppard, his friend, lay in a nearby bed fighting for his life with every forced breath of air. It wasn't right that the colonel was still near death while Rodney was well on his way to recovery. Oh, Beckett hadn't said so, but his reluctance to provide any information the pilot certainly spoke volumes in his book.
Carson squeezed his shoulder, his voice full of concern. "Rodney? What's eatin' at ye?"
McKay's chin lifted in defiance. "Who says there's anything bothering me? For your information, it's the middle of the night and I'm tired, that's all."
"Aye, downright exhausted, I'd venture to guess. I suppose I'll leave ye be so ye can get back to sleep then." Beckett patted his shoulder and patted his shoulder one final time. "Sleep well, Rodney; I'll be back to check on ye around breakfast time."
He'd barely taken two steps away when Rodney stopped him. "Don't go!" McKay tried to down play his over-reaction, not wanting to admit that he was still to shaken to be alone. "I mean, now that you're here, you could stay awhile. If you wanted to, I mean. We could...talk...or...something."
Carson turned around, not appearing to be at all surprised by the sudden change of heart. He pulled a chair up to the bedside and took a seat. "All right, Rodney. What shall we talk about?" he asked, folding his hands casually over his midsection.
And there it was, Rodney realized. The perfect opening. He opened his mouth to begin the conversation, but no words could come out. His heart was pounding for fear of what the Scot would tell him, but he had to know and so he forced himself to reach deep within to find the strength to speak the words. "H-how's Sheppard?" There, it was done, he thought, his anguished eyes lifting to meet Carson's as he waited for the news.
Beckett nodded, his expression telling Rodney that he'd been expecting the question. "He's doing well, all things considered," he hedged. "There was internal bleeding and a punctured lung, which we've managed to repair through surgery."
McKay was now recovered and alert enough that he immediately picked up on the Scot's hesitation. "So what are you not saying? And don't try to tell me nothing or gloss over it, either. I know you and I know that look. And it's telling me that there's bad news that you're trying very hard to keep from me. So just spill it already and save us both the time and me the effort of having to pry it out of you."
The Scot was silent for a long time, staring down at his knee and picking at the fabric of his scrubs. Finally he raised his head, looking Rodney in the eye as he spoke. "He's in a bad way, Rodney. It could very easily go either way. We nearly lost him on the table twice and again no more than an hour ago. We've managed to bring him back each time so far, but..."
He hitched back a sob at Beckett's confirmation of his fears. Staring up at the ceiling, he fought back the tears as he attempted to process the news. Carson didn't push him to talk, allowing him the time to gather his thoughts, but Rodney's mind was in a whirl as his thoughts flitted from one disjointed memory to another of the most screwed up mission in the history of all missions.
Visions of Sheppard's face flowed through his mind like a fast-moving stream. It started with the image of him pale underneath all the scratches when Ronon called them up the hill. Then came the briefing room and the trademark smirk when they traded barbs. After that he was standing in the council chamber when they were arguing over Rodney's offer that John test-pilot their damn airplane. Next came the look of pure joy that Sheppard always wore when he was flying. Then it was back to the forest after the crash and his features were drawn, scrunched as tightly as possible from the pain of his injuries. Finally, it was back to the council room and the look of trust in those hazel eyes that would now haunt him until his dying day.
Rodney's anguished eyes met Beckett's sympathetic gaze. "Oh God, Carson, I killed him. I killed Sheppard."
The Scot shook his head, not hesitating for an instant. "Ye've done no such thing, ye bloody fool. In case it's escaped your notice, Colonel Sheppard is not dead." Carson rose and yanked the curtain separating McKay's bed from the rest of the infirmary ward. "He's right over there and he's still breathing. And if there's one thing I've learned about John Sheppard since I've come to have the pleasure, it's that he's a fighter. He's proven time and time again that he does not know the meaning of the words 'give up'. So as long as the man is still breathing, I'll not be counting him out--and neither should you."
McKay watched Sheppard, listening to the click and hiss of the machine as it breathed for his friend. Rodney couldn't see him all that well with all the various monitors, machines, tubes, and wires surrounding him. He looked back to Carson with tears in his eyes and an angry expression on his face. "Is he? Because from what I can see, he's not really breathing at all. Your damn machine is doing it for him," he said accusingly.
Beckett's eyes narrowed. "I won't pretend to know why ye're so determined to take responsibility for this, but I'll not sit here and listen to you bury the man before he's truly gone. He's got a helluva fight on his hands if he's to survive, yes, but you know as well as anyone--even better than most, I'd say--that if there's one thing John Sheppard does well, it's survive against impossible odds."
"I activated the machine that shot him down!" Rodney's voice was loud and carried through the entire ward. "If I had only waited..." His eyes drifted again over to the bed where Sheppard lay. "Or better yet, if I hadn't talked him into flying the damn plane in the first place..."
Carson's tsk-tsking drew his attention back to the Scot. "Och, ye should know better than that, Rodney. Ye cannot live your life always wondering about the 'what ifs' for every action ye take. No good can come of it--you'll remain stuck in the past and unable to ever move forward."
"That's easy for you to say--you're not the one responsible for Sheppard's accident, hence it won't be your fault when he dies!" Rodney knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't seem to stop himself as he worked up to another long--and loud--rant.
"Lower your voice," demanded Beckett, his tone low but threatening. "If ye cannot get hold of yourself, I'll have no choice but to sedate ye." He paused long enough to be certain that he was getting through to the physicist. Once he was sure he had McKay's attention, he continued. "Now then, as ye lie here waiting to fall back to sleep, think on this. Colonel Sheppard needs his friends' full support--all of them--if he is indeed going to pull this one out. So I'll not have ye sitting next to his bedside spouting your gloom and doom. If ye want to see the man once ye're out of here, then I'd suggest ye find a way to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start believing in your friend."
Rodney was about to argue, but realized from the look on Carson's face that he was completely serious. He abruptly closed his mouth and turned his head to watch John. It *was* his fault that Sheppard had been injured and nothing would change that. But he also owed it to Sheppard to be there when the end finally came. He made up his mind then and there that he'd play Beckett's little game--even if he couldn't make himself *really* believe it. He turned back to the doctor. "Fine, you win. I'll be Mr. Positive and jump through all your little hoops, but just so you know, I have every intention of staying right next to his side until he does finally wake up."
Carson looked like he wanted to argue, but instead hedged around the point. "We'll talk about that later. Right now ye need sleep. Will ye be all right or do ye need a little help? Nothing strong, mind ye, just enough to help ye drift off again."
Suddenly feeling very tired, McKay shook his head. "I don't need any help." He closed his eyes, but he could feel Beckett watching him. Determined not to give in, he ignored the doctor and focused on breathing evenly. And before he knew it, Rodney was again asleep.
~~A~~
Rodney sighed and again leaned forward, trying to stretch out some of the kinks in his back. Carson had released him over a week ago. Eight long and seemingly endless days ago, in fact. Days he'd spent listening to that damnable hissing and clicking of the respirator as it inflated Sheppard's lungs over and over. Days he'd spent certain that his friend would die.
Beckett had tried to wean the pilot off the blasted thing two days after Rodney had been released. It had appeared that the colonel had finally turned the corner. But Sheppard had almost immediately spiked a fever and been placed right back on the vent. Pneumonia, according to the Scott. He'd said something about John's lungs being too weak and then went on to explain in excruciating detail what exactly was happening, but by the third sentence Rodney had stopped listening. All it really amounted to was that Sheppard was going to die after all. Or so he'd thought.
But Carson had been right. Sheppard was nothing if not resilient and here they were close to a week later with him again weaned off of the hated machine. Oh they were still pumping him full of extra-strong antibiotics, along with heaven only knew what else, but there he was, laying in the bed and breathing on his own. He still had a fever, but it wasn't nearly as high as that first awful night. The rattling and wheezing noises when he tried to breathe had been bad enough, but the incoherent rambling that had accompanied it had nearly been too much for Rodney. Though Sheppard still had a nasty sounding cough, the noisy breathing was no longer in evidence.
According to Beckett, Sheppard could and should awaken at any moment. Rodney had been true to his word and not once left the man's bedside. Well, not willingly, at any rate. The meddling Scot had managed to pry him away twice, though.
The first time Carson had attempted to chase him out, he'd even gone so far as to have him bodily removed, ordering Radek to lock him in his quarters and shut him out of the city's network. That had lasted all of five minutes until he'd managed to hack into the mainframe through a backdoor that only he'd known about and over-ride the lock. He'd gone straight back to Sheppard's bedside, glaring at the Scot and daring him to try it again. Carson had literally thrown his hands up and stomped off, seemingly admitting defeat. Rodney realized now that he really should have known better.
After that Beckett had begun ordering Rodney's meals sent to the infirmary along with the other patients' trays--which had led to the second incident. Only yesterday, the Scot had informed him that John was improving and that he'd soon be coming off the respirator again. He'd asked Rodney to take a break and stretch out in the next bed for awhile; Rodney, of course, had promptly and flatly refused. After the last fiasco when they'd removed the vent, he simply wasn't taking any chances. Beckett had seemed to capitulate and let the matter drop, but the sneaky physician had slipped a sedative into his food at dinner. Rodney was still kicking himself for not having seen that one coming a mile away.
He leaned his head back on the chair and stared at the ceiling. While he'd been sleeping off the drugged food in the next bed, the tube had been removed from Sheppard's throat and he was now breathing on his own. It seemed he was going manage to beat the odds yet again, but Rodney couldn't let his guard down. Not after the last time.
He snuck another look over at the slumbering pilot, alternating between Sheppard-watching and ceiling-staring until he could stand the silence no longer. "I've been sitting in this damn chair for nearly 8 days straight waiting for you to come out of it. The least you could do is be suitably grateful and wake up to thank me properly, you know. My ass is never going to be the same after this."
"More than I needed to know," came the raspy reply. "But thank you."
Rodney continued to stare up at the ceiling. "You're welcome. Now why don't you...hey! You're awake," said the physicist, sitting bolt upright in the chair.
John's reply was cut off by a coughing fit. Rodney quickly grabbed the cup of crushed ice next to the bed and carefully fed the pilot a spoonful. Sheppard closed his eyes to savor the moisture. When it was gone, his voice still sounded just as raspy as before. "More," he demanded.
Rodney hesitated. "I don't know, Beckett said you shouldn't have too much." John glared at him and he instantly caved. "Fine, but you're going to be the one explaining this when he finds out, not me." He carefully spooned another bit of ice into his friend's mouth.
"He also said that ye were to call right away when the Colonel woke up. Convenient how ye forgot that part of it."
Ice went everywhere as McKay jumped close to a foot in the air. "Geez, what is with people trying to give me a heart attack! Have I not spent enough time in your clutches lately? And for your information, I was just getting ready to call you."
Carson just shook his head and stepped up to John's bedside. "I see ye've decided to join us once again. Ye seem a lot more aware this time; how are ye feeling?"
"Other than cold, wet, and half-drowned, you mean?"
"Oh ha ha," complained McKay. "You can thank the Scottish Wonder there for that one. If he hadn't snuck up on us like that, it wouldn't have happened."
John smirked, shivering slightly. "He's wearing his squeaky shoes, McKay. They probably heard him coming all the way over on the other side of the city."
Rodney folded his arms across his chest and stuck his chin out defiantly. "It was NOT my fault!"
"It never is," said Sheppard, chuckling.
Rodney went deathly pale. His first instinct was to run, but he knew that putting off the inevitable wouldn't really help in the long run. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I can leave if you'd like."
"No, I would not like," answered John, obviously confused by the scientist's behavior.
Carson stepped in before Sheppard could question him about his behavior, so Rodney hung back in silence and let the physician proceed with the exam. "All right now, let's try it again. How are ye feeling? Other than cold and wet--and by the way, I'll have Lyn come and change the bedding as soon as we're finished here."
John appeared to think about it before answering. "Bit of a headache, ribs are a little sore, and throat's a bit raw." He had to pause for a coughing fit, though Rodney didn't think cough was nearly as bad as it had been before Sheppard had had to go back on the vent again. "What happened this time anyway?" demanded the pilot, once he'd recovered his breath.
Beckett didn't answer him as he continued his exam and took note of monitor readouts. Rodney decided there wasn't going to be a better opening and ended his silent observance. "You...I...there-there was a crash..."
Sheppard frowned. "I crashed a jumper? Wait--was anyone else hurt? Ronon? Teyla?"
"Ye were not flying a jumper," snapped Beckett, glaring at Rodney with a look that promised retribution later. "And Ronon and Teyla are both fine. It was an experimental plane ye were flying, from what I gather."
John nodded, some of the details beginning to return. "Right. The Kittyhawk-plane. I agreed to a test flight in return for access to the Ancient site." He frowned again, looking directly at McKay. "I thought you said it was safe."
"It was!" Too many long days waiting and too many sleepless nights caused Rodney to break. "While you were up there flying, Teyla...I decided to go find the structure where the energy readings were emanating from. Teyla went with me and kept watch. Once we...I got inside and brought it online, an automated defense system came online as well. So anyway, I, um... it was *totally* unintentional, I *SWEAR*!"
Sheppard was staring at him like he'd grown another head. "What are you saying, McKay?"
Rodney fought the urge to turn tail and run as fast and as far as he could. He swallowed hard and bit the bullet, pointing at himself as he spoke. "That it was, um, me. Er, my fault, that is. I, um, sort of, shot...down...your plane."
John looked over at Carson, not certain he'd heard right. "Did he just say that he shot down my plane?" he demanded angrily.
Beckett stepped back, glaring at each of them in turn. "The bloody fool has been going on about how he killed you ever since he woke up. But before ye condemn him, Colonel, I'd like ye to think about this: Rodney has not hardly left your side since he was released himself. I tried locking him in his room to make him rest, but that barely lasted for 5 minutes. I finally had to resort to sedating him. He's been very, very worried about you, and not because he felt responsible. Ye know as well as I do that he'd never intentionally harm any of ye."
John's eyes narrowed as he looked Rodney over with a critical eye. "Released? What were you in here for?"
When Rodney didn't answer, Carson rolled his eyes and again stepped in. "Rodney was shot with a poisoned dart trying to persuade the Mallorians to allow Ronon bring ye home. If Teyla hadn't gotten him back when she did..."
Sheppard raised an eyebrow, looking quizzically at the physicist. "Rodney?" he asked expectantly, drawing out the name.
McKay crossed his arms. "Well you weren't breathing anymore and-and-and if we didn't find a way to get you back to Carson there would have been brain damage...er, even more than normal, I mean. But anyway, this big goon had Teyla so Ronon was getting all macho and trying to start a pissing contest, so *someone* had to be the voice of reason and try to negotiate."
"You? The voice of reason? *You* negotiated?" Sheppard was dubious at best, by the tone of his voice.
Rodney was indignant. "Yes, yes I did. And quite effectively, I might add."
"If you were so effective, how did you end up getting shot with a poisoned dart?" The colonel was clearly not buying it at all.
"Oh, that," said McKay. "Well, I-I told them that I was the one responsible for the plane crashing and that you weren't at fault and if they let you go then I'd be willing to submit to whatever punishment they saw fit to mete out. And then the Boss Man..." Rodney snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name. "Um, Lazy...Lazy...something, anyway he nodded at the Big Goon standing next to the Big Goon who was holding Teyla and he shot me with the poisoned dart and then...and then...well, actually, I'm not really sure what happened after that. It all gets a little fuzzy from then on."
John began to laugh. "Only you, McKay. Only you."
"Only me what?" demanded Rodney, sensing he was being made fun of yet again.
Still chuckling, Sheppard didn't hesitate to elaborate. "Only you could go from fall-guy to hero in the blink of an eye."
The good-natured ribbing was interrupted by another bout of coughing, which prompted Carson to step in. "All right, I think that's enough for now. It's time the colonel got some rest--and you, too, Rodney. Now that ye've seen he's going to be all right, I want you to go have a good hot meal and then sleep for a minimum of eight hours."
"But you heard him--I'm the hero," complained McKay. "And besides, I barely just woke up from that little nap I had courtesy of your little doctored-food trick."
"Give it up, Rodney. You won't win anyway," advised Sheppard, now recovered from the coughing.
"Food, sleep, and then *maybe* I'll allow ye back in for another visit. But only after ye've eaten and rested," warned the Scot.
Admitting defeat, Rodney caved. "Fine. Can I at least say goodbye?"
Beckett looked at his watch. "Ye've got five minutes. I'm going to go see if we have the the colonel's latest lab results back yet and when I return, ye'd best not be here."
Rodney nodded, and then watched as Carson walked away. Sheppard's raspy voice quickly garnered his attention, however. "You really okay now? No...lingering effects from the poison?"
"I'm fine. Though my chest is still bruised and sore. And I have this paper-cut that looks like it's getting infected, but he hasn't so much as even glanced at that yet. Anyway, I was released almost a week ago--you're the one who's been giving him fits and making him all cranky. Thanks so much for that, by the way."
John snorted, suppressing another cough. "I'd say it was my pleasure, but since I haven't been conscious and had no idea what was going on..."
A comfortable silence fell over the pair. Then Rodney could stand it no longer--he just *had* to know. "So, you, um, really think I'm a hero?"
Sheppard snorted again. Or maybe it was a cough, Rodney really wasn't sure. "Get real. I was talking about the Mallarians."
Now it was Rodney's turn to snort. "Um, no. Trust me I was there--and conscious--and the last thing they think of me is heroic. I cost them their last working prototype; hero is not what they were thinking in that clearing, I can assure you. Although I think Elizabeth is planning to contact them and offer compensation or something."
Another cough from the pilot, though this one was not as deep or hacking. "I can't believe you didn't just tell them."
"Tell them what?" Rodney was the one confused now.
John rolled his eyes. "Think about it, McKay. You were wondering how the Mallarians managed to avoid the Wraith and develop a viable aeronautical program. Now you know. If you had just pointed out that they were now once again safe from any Wraith ships that might happen to stop by..."
Rodney opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He closed it and then tried again, but still he couldn't seem to persuade his voice to work. "Oh," he finally got out. "I-I never thought of that. I'm mean, I'm sure I would have if I hadn't been so worried about you dying and all." He started to back away from the bed, pointing toward the door. "I, um, I should go tell Elizabeth. I mean, once she tells them, I'm sure they're going to want me to return for the usual hero-type stuff with all the proper pomp and circumstance. They'll probably give me a medal or something. And while I'm there I should definitely go back and verify that everything is in good working order--wouldn't want it to go offline again, after all, would we? But if I could get a good look at how the system operates... I, um, I should go. Now."
Halfway to the door, Sheppard stopped him. "Rodney? Thanks."
"What?" McKay's mind was already racing with possible arguments for Elizabeth and he totally missed John's meaning.
"You saved my life," reminded the pilot. "So...thanks."
Rodney's grin stretched ear-to-ear, his chest puffing up with pride. "Yes, well, that's what we heroes do, isn't it?"
John nodded his head, chuckling. "So it is."
McKay pointed over his shoulder toward the door. "Okay, so, um, I'll stop by again later. In the meantime you should get some rest, you still look terrible," admonished the physicist. And with a final wave, Rodney headed off to find Elizabeth.
Still grinning, John settled back into his pillows and drifted off to sleep.
~~The End~~
Author: katstale
Words: 17520
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rodney volunteers John to assist the locals in order to gain access to an Ancient structure. Unfortunately, things don't go quite according to plan. (ShepWhump, RodneyWump, All-around Angst)
Notes: First and foremost, I must apologize to everybetty for the long delay in posting this. I am SO very, very sorry for my tardiness. I can only hope you find it was worth the wait. Second, this was written for the sheps_atlantis ficathon. The prompt was for "ShepWhump... ShepWh- errr, I mean, infirmary scene (with Carson, natch), humor interspersed amongst the whumpage." everybetty, if this doesn't meet your expectations, I'll be happy to try it again after NaNoWriMo in December. :)
Part Three
There was nothing he could do but watch helplessly from above as John Sheppard fell from the sky. He looked down, horrified to find the trees coming up to meet them at an alarming rate. And then suddenly he *was* Sheppard and the trees caught him, slamming their branches into his body and tearing at every inch of exposed skin. Small branches grew ever larger, until limbs as big around as his thigh--or larger--were battering him. And then he saw the ground, rushing up to meet him at an incredible speed. He screamed, but no sound came out of his mouth, and still the ground kept coming. He tried to put his arms over his head to protect himself, but he couldn't make them move. He could see each leaf, each pebble, each clump of dirt clearly now as he continued to fall. And then there was impact.
Rodney gasped, his eyes flying open as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. A dream, he realized. It had all been a dream. Movement caught the corner of his eye and turned to look, stunned at the sight of John Sheppard standing next to his bed, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.
"Oh thank God! You're okay," marveled Rodney. He relaxed back into his pillow, closing his eyes to savor the welcome realization that it had all been a horrible, horrible nightmare.
Sheppard snorted. "If you call this okay," he said accusingly.
McKay cracked open one eye to look at him warily. "You're up and around, walking, talking, breathing, without even a scratch on you. What else would you call it?"
"No, I'm not," insisted Sheppard.
"Not what?" Rodney, still shaken by the dream, was a little slow on the uptake.
"You're supposed to be a genius; figure it out."
Annoyed, he opened both eyes, squinting to get a good look at the pilot as he checked off each point. "You're standing upright here without any difficulty, so up and around. Walking, check. Talking, yet another check..." His eyes widened in alarm as he took in the stillness of Sheppard's chest. "Oh my God! You-you-you're not breathing," he squeaked.
"Give the man a cigar," drawled Sheppard. "Of course I'm not breathing. I'm dead." His eyes glittered with anger. "I'm dead because YOU killed me."
Rodney's heart was again trying to beat its way out of his chest. "B-but I didn't know...I would never have..." He turned anguished eyes to his dead friend. "I-I-I didn't mean it--I swear I didn't mean for it to happen!"
John threw his hands up in the air, his face growing even darker. "Oh well, that makes all the difference then, doesn't it? He didn't mean it, so hey, so what if John Sheppard is DEAD? It's all okay because RODNEY MCKAY didn't mean for it to happen." The not-breathing Sheppard began to pace. "You were supposed to be my friend, Rodney! Well some friend you turned out to be! I'm dead, McKay--I'm dead and it's all YOUR fault!"
"No!" insisted Rodney. "No, this can't be happening! You were alive and we brought you back and Carson fixed you. You can't be dead." His voice grew smaller with each word. "You can't."
"Well I am--and you killed me. What kind of friend does something like that anyway, *Rodney*?"
"A bad one?" offered the physicist tentatively.
Dead-Sheppard wasn't amused. "No, McKay. A real friend doesn't kill people who are his friends--period! So I guess I know how you really feel about me after all this time, don't I?"
"NO! Don't you say that! I-I-I totally suck at the whole friends-thing, I freely admit that--but don't you EVER say that I did not care!"
The deceased colonel smiled malevolently. "Fine, then prove it."
"What? How?" asked McKay dubiously.
Dead-Sheppard made a show of pretending to think the matter over before responding. "Well now, the way I see it, if you were a real friend, you would gladly give exactly what you took from me--a life for life."
Rodney swallowed hard, not liking where the conversation appeared to be heading. "Um, uh, I don't know...I mean, I'm not sure..."
"You trying to weasel out of it?" demanded the colonel. "Because that would mean this whole friends-thing, as you so aptly put it, was nothing but a load of crap. Is that what you're saying, Rodney?"
"No! I-I was just wondering...how..." McKay couldn't bring himself to say the words.
"Oh don't worry," assured Dead-Sheppard. "I'll make sure it's fast and painless--even though my own death was anything but."
Rodney swallowed hard, knowing he was out of options. "Okay! All right. I admit it, I deserve this. I just..." His eyes widened at the large knife that Dead-Sheppard had pulled from his belt and was now holding over McKay's chest. Rodney's words died in his throat as the knife descended toward his heart, time having slowed to a crawl as he lay there helpless, waiting for the strike that would end his life. His heart pounded as he watched it come closer and closer, until finally, it plunged deep into his chest.
"Rodney!"
He could barely hear the voice calling his name over the screams that filled the air. There was a sharp sting on his cheek as Rodney's eyes popped open to reveal the worried face of Carson Beckett above him. He closed his mouth and the screams died away as he desperately gulped in air, shivering uncontrollably.
Carson reached for McKay's wrist, checking his pulse as he subtly observed the physicist. "Feeling a wee bit better now?"
Rodney nodded, but said nothing as he concentrated on breathing.
"Care to talk about it?" Though his tone was casual, there was no missing the Scot's concern--or his desire for his patient to comply.
McKay shook his head, closing his eyes and laying back as Beckett went about checking him over. The click and hiss of the ventilator nearby seemed to grow louder and louder, until finally he could stand the noise no more.
"I had a dream," he blurted out. "Well, more of a nightmare, really. I-I watched Sheppard falling from the sky after the crash and then suddenly I *was* Sheppard and the trees were coming at me really, really fast a-and I hit the ground but then I woke up, only I wasn't really awake at all. I was still dreaming, but in the dream I opened my eyes and Sheppard was there and-and he was okay--or at least I thought he was okay, but then we were talking and I found out that he wasn't okay at all because he was dead because I killed him which of course made him angry so he wanted me to pay him back for what I took from him and then he had this knife a-a-and-and he held it over me and-and then it was coming at me but I couldn't move and then it..." He shuddered violently, unable to get the words out to describe how it had felt when the knife had entered his chest.
"Easy there," soothed Carson, placing his hand supportively on McKay's shoulder. "Well that was quite the dream now, wasn't it? Lucky we both know something like that could never, ever happen for real."
Rodney didn't answer him, instead turning his head away. The constant clicking and hissing noises served as a constant reminder that John Sheppard, his friend, lay in a nearby bed fighting for his life with every forced breath of air. It wasn't right that the colonel was still near death while Rodney was well on his way to recovery. Oh, Beckett hadn't said so, but his reluctance to provide any information the pilot certainly spoke volumes in his book.
Carson squeezed his shoulder, his voice full of concern. "Rodney? What's eatin' at ye?"
McKay's chin lifted in defiance. "Who says there's anything bothering me? For your information, it's the middle of the night and I'm tired, that's all."
"Aye, downright exhausted, I'd venture to guess. I suppose I'll leave ye be so ye can get back to sleep then." Beckett patted his shoulder and patted his shoulder one final time. "Sleep well, Rodney; I'll be back to check on ye around breakfast time."
He'd barely taken two steps away when Rodney stopped him. "Don't go!" McKay tried to down play his over-reaction, not wanting to admit that he was still to shaken to be alone. "I mean, now that you're here, you could stay awhile. If you wanted to, I mean. We could...talk...or...something."
Carson turned around, not appearing to be at all surprised by the sudden change of heart. He pulled a chair up to the bedside and took a seat. "All right, Rodney. What shall we talk about?" he asked, folding his hands casually over his midsection.
And there it was, Rodney realized. The perfect opening. He opened his mouth to begin the conversation, but no words could come out. His heart was pounding for fear of what the Scot would tell him, but he had to know and so he forced himself to reach deep within to find the strength to speak the words. "H-how's Sheppard?" There, it was done, he thought, his anguished eyes lifting to meet Carson's as he waited for the news.
Beckett nodded, his expression telling Rodney that he'd been expecting the question. "He's doing well, all things considered," he hedged. "There was internal bleeding and a punctured lung, which we've managed to repair through surgery."
McKay was now recovered and alert enough that he immediately picked up on the Scot's hesitation. "So what are you not saying? And don't try to tell me nothing or gloss over it, either. I know you and I know that look. And it's telling me that there's bad news that you're trying very hard to keep from me. So just spill it already and save us both the time and me the effort of having to pry it out of you."
The Scot was silent for a long time, staring down at his knee and picking at the fabric of his scrubs. Finally he raised his head, looking Rodney in the eye as he spoke. "He's in a bad way, Rodney. It could very easily go either way. We nearly lost him on the table twice and again no more than an hour ago. We've managed to bring him back each time so far, but..."
He hitched back a sob at Beckett's confirmation of his fears. Staring up at the ceiling, he fought back the tears as he attempted to process the news. Carson didn't push him to talk, allowing him the time to gather his thoughts, but Rodney's mind was in a whirl as his thoughts flitted from one disjointed memory to another of the most screwed up mission in the history of all missions.
Visions of Sheppard's face flowed through his mind like a fast-moving stream. It started with the image of him pale underneath all the scratches when Ronon called them up the hill. Then came the briefing room and the trademark smirk when they traded barbs. After that he was standing in the council chamber when they were arguing over Rodney's offer that John test-pilot their damn airplane. Next came the look of pure joy that Sheppard always wore when he was flying. Then it was back to the forest after the crash and his features were drawn, scrunched as tightly as possible from the pain of his injuries. Finally, it was back to the council room and the look of trust in those hazel eyes that would now haunt him until his dying day.
Rodney's anguished eyes met Beckett's sympathetic gaze. "Oh God, Carson, I killed him. I killed Sheppard."
The Scot shook his head, not hesitating for an instant. "Ye've done no such thing, ye bloody fool. In case it's escaped your notice, Colonel Sheppard is not dead." Carson rose and yanked the curtain separating McKay's bed from the rest of the infirmary ward. "He's right over there and he's still breathing. And if there's one thing I've learned about John Sheppard since I've come to have the pleasure, it's that he's a fighter. He's proven time and time again that he does not know the meaning of the words 'give up'. So as long as the man is still breathing, I'll not be counting him out--and neither should you."
McKay watched Sheppard, listening to the click and hiss of the machine as it breathed for his friend. Rodney couldn't see him all that well with all the various monitors, machines, tubes, and wires surrounding him. He looked back to Carson with tears in his eyes and an angry expression on his face. "Is he? Because from what I can see, he's not really breathing at all. Your damn machine is doing it for him," he said accusingly.
Beckett's eyes narrowed. "I won't pretend to know why ye're so determined to take responsibility for this, but I'll not sit here and listen to you bury the man before he's truly gone. He's got a helluva fight on his hands if he's to survive, yes, but you know as well as anyone--even better than most, I'd say--that if there's one thing John Sheppard does well, it's survive against impossible odds."
"I activated the machine that shot him down!" Rodney's voice was loud and carried through the entire ward. "If I had only waited..." His eyes drifted again over to the bed where Sheppard lay. "Or better yet, if I hadn't talked him into flying the damn plane in the first place..."
Carson's tsk-tsking drew his attention back to the Scot. "Och, ye should know better than that, Rodney. Ye cannot live your life always wondering about the 'what ifs' for every action ye take. No good can come of it--you'll remain stuck in the past and unable to ever move forward."
"That's easy for you to say--you're not the one responsible for Sheppard's accident, hence it won't be your fault when he dies!" Rodney knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't seem to stop himself as he worked up to another long--and loud--rant.
"Lower your voice," demanded Beckett, his tone low but threatening. "If ye cannot get hold of yourself, I'll have no choice but to sedate ye." He paused long enough to be certain that he was getting through to the physicist. Once he was sure he had McKay's attention, he continued. "Now then, as ye lie here waiting to fall back to sleep, think on this. Colonel Sheppard needs his friends' full support--all of them--if he is indeed going to pull this one out. So I'll not have ye sitting next to his bedside spouting your gloom and doom. If ye want to see the man once ye're out of here, then I'd suggest ye find a way to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start believing in your friend."
Rodney was about to argue, but realized from the look on Carson's face that he was completely serious. He abruptly closed his mouth and turned his head to watch John. It *was* his fault that Sheppard had been injured and nothing would change that. But he also owed it to Sheppard to be there when the end finally came. He made up his mind then and there that he'd play Beckett's little game--even if he couldn't make himself *really* believe it. He turned back to the doctor. "Fine, you win. I'll be Mr. Positive and jump through all your little hoops, but just so you know, I have every intention of staying right next to his side until he does finally wake up."
Carson looked like he wanted to argue, but instead hedged around the point. "We'll talk about that later. Right now ye need sleep. Will ye be all right or do ye need a little help? Nothing strong, mind ye, just enough to help ye drift off again."
Suddenly feeling very tired, McKay shook his head. "I don't need any help." He closed his eyes, but he could feel Beckett watching him. Determined not to give in, he ignored the doctor and focused on breathing evenly. And before he knew it, Rodney was again asleep.
~~A~~
Rodney sighed and again leaned forward, trying to stretch out some of the kinks in his back. Carson had released him over a week ago. Eight long and seemingly endless days ago, in fact. Days he'd spent listening to that damnable hissing and clicking of the respirator as it inflated Sheppard's lungs over and over. Days he'd spent certain that his friend would die.
Beckett had tried to wean the pilot off the blasted thing two days after Rodney had been released. It had appeared that the colonel had finally turned the corner. But Sheppard had almost immediately spiked a fever and been placed right back on the vent. Pneumonia, according to the Scott. He'd said something about John's lungs being too weak and then went on to explain in excruciating detail what exactly was happening, but by the third sentence Rodney had stopped listening. All it really amounted to was that Sheppard was going to die after all. Or so he'd thought.
But Carson had been right. Sheppard was nothing if not resilient and here they were close to a week later with him again weaned off of the hated machine. Oh they were still pumping him full of extra-strong antibiotics, along with heaven only knew what else, but there he was, laying in the bed and breathing on his own. He still had a fever, but it wasn't nearly as high as that first awful night. The rattling and wheezing noises when he tried to breathe had been bad enough, but the incoherent rambling that had accompanied it had nearly been too much for Rodney. Though Sheppard still had a nasty sounding cough, the noisy breathing was no longer in evidence.
According to Beckett, Sheppard could and should awaken at any moment. Rodney had been true to his word and not once left the man's bedside. Well, not willingly, at any rate. The meddling Scot had managed to pry him away twice, though.
The first time Carson had attempted to chase him out, he'd even gone so far as to have him bodily removed, ordering Radek to lock him in his quarters and shut him out of the city's network. That had lasted all of five minutes until he'd managed to hack into the mainframe through a backdoor that only he'd known about and over-ride the lock. He'd gone straight back to Sheppard's bedside, glaring at the Scot and daring him to try it again. Carson had literally thrown his hands up and stomped off, seemingly admitting defeat. Rodney realized now that he really should have known better.
After that Beckett had begun ordering Rodney's meals sent to the infirmary along with the other patients' trays--which had led to the second incident. Only yesterday, the Scot had informed him that John was improving and that he'd soon be coming off the respirator again. He'd asked Rodney to take a break and stretch out in the next bed for awhile; Rodney, of course, had promptly and flatly refused. After the last fiasco when they'd removed the vent, he simply wasn't taking any chances. Beckett had seemed to capitulate and let the matter drop, but the sneaky physician had slipped a sedative into his food at dinner. Rodney was still kicking himself for not having seen that one coming a mile away.
He leaned his head back on the chair and stared at the ceiling. While he'd been sleeping off the drugged food in the next bed, the tube had been removed from Sheppard's throat and he was now breathing on his own. It seemed he was going manage to beat the odds yet again, but Rodney couldn't let his guard down. Not after the last time.
He snuck another look over at the slumbering pilot, alternating between Sheppard-watching and ceiling-staring until he could stand the silence no longer. "I've been sitting in this damn chair for nearly 8 days straight waiting for you to come out of it. The least you could do is be suitably grateful and wake up to thank me properly, you know. My ass is never going to be the same after this."
"More than I needed to know," came the raspy reply. "But thank you."
Rodney continued to stare up at the ceiling. "You're welcome. Now why don't you...hey! You're awake," said the physicist, sitting bolt upright in the chair.
John's reply was cut off by a coughing fit. Rodney quickly grabbed the cup of crushed ice next to the bed and carefully fed the pilot a spoonful. Sheppard closed his eyes to savor the moisture. When it was gone, his voice still sounded just as raspy as before. "More," he demanded.
Rodney hesitated. "I don't know, Beckett said you shouldn't have too much." John glared at him and he instantly caved. "Fine, but you're going to be the one explaining this when he finds out, not me." He carefully spooned another bit of ice into his friend's mouth.
"He also said that ye were to call right away when the Colonel woke up. Convenient how ye forgot that part of it."
Ice went everywhere as McKay jumped close to a foot in the air. "Geez, what is with people trying to give me a heart attack! Have I not spent enough time in your clutches lately? And for your information, I was just getting ready to call you."
Carson just shook his head and stepped up to John's bedside. "I see ye've decided to join us once again. Ye seem a lot more aware this time; how are ye feeling?"
"Other than cold, wet, and half-drowned, you mean?"
"Oh ha ha," complained McKay. "You can thank the Scottish Wonder there for that one. If he hadn't snuck up on us like that, it wouldn't have happened."
John smirked, shivering slightly. "He's wearing his squeaky shoes, McKay. They probably heard him coming all the way over on the other side of the city."
Rodney folded his arms across his chest and stuck his chin out defiantly. "It was NOT my fault!"
"It never is," said Sheppard, chuckling.
Rodney went deathly pale. His first instinct was to run, but he knew that putting off the inevitable wouldn't really help in the long run. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I can leave if you'd like."
"No, I would not like," answered John, obviously confused by the scientist's behavior.
Carson stepped in before Sheppard could question him about his behavior, so Rodney hung back in silence and let the physician proceed with the exam. "All right now, let's try it again. How are ye feeling? Other than cold and wet--and by the way, I'll have Lyn come and change the bedding as soon as we're finished here."
John appeared to think about it before answering. "Bit of a headache, ribs are a little sore, and throat's a bit raw." He had to pause for a coughing fit, though Rodney didn't think cough was nearly as bad as it had been before Sheppard had had to go back on the vent again. "What happened this time anyway?" demanded the pilot, once he'd recovered his breath.
Beckett didn't answer him as he continued his exam and took note of monitor readouts. Rodney decided there wasn't going to be a better opening and ended his silent observance. "You...I...there-there was a crash..."
Sheppard frowned. "I crashed a jumper? Wait--was anyone else hurt? Ronon? Teyla?"
"Ye were not flying a jumper," snapped Beckett, glaring at Rodney with a look that promised retribution later. "And Ronon and Teyla are both fine. It was an experimental plane ye were flying, from what I gather."
John nodded, some of the details beginning to return. "Right. The Kittyhawk-plane. I agreed to a test flight in return for access to the Ancient site." He frowned again, looking directly at McKay. "I thought you said it was safe."
"It was!" Too many long days waiting and too many sleepless nights caused Rodney to break. "While you were up there flying, Teyla...I decided to go find the structure where the energy readings were emanating from. Teyla went with me and kept watch. Once we...I got inside and brought it online, an automated defense system came online as well. So anyway, I, um... it was *totally* unintentional, I *SWEAR*!"
Sheppard was staring at him like he'd grown another head. "What are you saying, McKay?"
Rodney fought the urge to turn tail and run as fast and as far as he could. He swallowed hard and bit the bullet, pointing at himself as he spoke. "That it was, um, me. Er, my fault, that is. I, um, sort of, shot...down...your plane."
John looked over at Carson, not certain he'd heard right. "Did he just say that he shot down my plane?" he demanded angrily.
Beckett stepped back, glaring at each of them in turn. "The bloody fool has been going on about how he killed you ever since he woke up. But before ye condemn him, Colonel, I'd like ye to think about this: Rodney has not hardly left your side since he was released himself. I tried locking him in his room to make him rest, but that barely lasted for 5 minutes. I finally had to resort to sedating him. He's been very, very worried about you, and not because he felt responsible. Ye know as well as I do that he'd never intentionally harm any of ye."
John's eyes narrowed as he looked Rodney over with a critical eye. "Released? What were you in here for?"
When Rodney didn't answer, Carson rolled his eyes and again stepped in. "Rodney was shot with a poisoned dart trying to persuade the Mallorians to allow Ronon bring ye home. If Teyla hadn't gotten him back when she did..."
Sheppard raised an eyebrow, looking quizzically at the physicist. "Rodney?" he asked expectantly, drawing out the name.
McKay crossed his arms. "Well you weren't breathing anymore and-and-and if we didn't find a way to get you back to Carson there would have been brain damage...er, even more than normal, I mean. But anyway, this big goon had Teyla so Ronon was getting all macho and trying to start a pissing contest, so *someone* had to be the voice of reason and try to negotiate."
"You? The voice of reason? *You* negotiated?" Sheppard was dubious at best, by the tone of his voice.
Rodney was indignant. "Yes, yes I did. And quite effectively, I might add."
"If you were so effective, how did you end up getting shot with a poisoned dart?" The colonel was clearly not buying it at all.
"Oh, that," said McKay. "Well, I-I told them that I was the one responsible for the plane crashing and that you weren't at fault and if they let you go then I'd be willing to submit to whatever punishment they saw fit to mete out. And then the Boss Man..." Rodney snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name. "Um, Lazy...Lazy...something, anyway he nodded at the Big Goon standing next to the Big Goon who was holding Teyla and he shot me with the poisoned dart and then...and then...well, actually, I'm not really sure what happened after that. It all gets a little fuzzy from then on."
John began to laugh. "Only you, McKay. Only you."
"Only me what?" demanded Rodney, sensing he was being made fun of yet again.
Still chuckling, Sheppard didn't hesitate to elaborate. "Only you could go from fall-guy to hero in the blink of an eye."
The good-natured ribbing was interrupted by another bout of coughing, which prompted Carson to step in. "All right, I think that's enough for now. It's time the colonel got some rest--and you, too, Rodney. Now that ye've seen he's going to be all right, I want you to go have a good hot meal and then sleep for a minimum of eight hours."
"But you heard him--I'm the hero," complained McKay. "And besides, I barely just woke up from that little nap I had courtesy of your little doctored-food trick."
"Give it up, Rodney. You won't win anyway," advised Sheppard, now recovered from the coughing.
"Food, sleep, and then *maybe* I'll allow ye back in for another visit. But only after ye've eaten and rested," warned the Scot.
Admitting defeat, Rodney caved. "Fine. Can I at least say goodbye?"
Beckett looked at his watch. "Ye've got five minutes. I'm going to go see if we have the the colonel's latest lab results back yet and when I return, ye'd best not be here."
Rodney nodded, and then watched as Carson walked away. Sheppard's raspy voice quickly garnered his attention, however. "You really okay now? No...lingering effects from the poison?"
"I'm fine. Though my chest is still bruised and sore. And I have this paper-cut that looks like it's getting infected, but he hasn't so much as even glanced at that yet. Anyway, I was released almost a week ago--you're the one who's been giving him fits and making him all cranky. Thanks so much for that, by the way."
John snorted, suppressing another cough. "I'd say it was my pleasure, but since I haven't been conscious and had no idea what was going on..."
A comfortable silence fell over the pair. Then Rodney could stand it no longer--he just *had* to know. "So, you, um, really think I'm a hero?"
Sheppard snorted again. Or maybe it was a cough, Rodney really wasn't sure. "Get real. I was talking about the Mallarians."
Now it was Rodney's turn to snort. "Um, no. Trust me I was there--and conscious--and the last thing they think of me is heroic. I cost them their last working prototype; hero is not what they were thinking in that clearing, I can assure you. Although I think Elizabeth is planning to contact them and offer compensation or something."
Another cough from the pilot, though this one was not as deep or hacking. "I can't believe you didn't just tell them."
"Tell them what?" Rodney was the one confused now.
John rolled his eyes. "Think about it, McKay. You were wondering how the Mallarians managed to avoid the Wraith and develop a viable aeronautical program. Now you know. If you had just pointed out that they were now once again safe from any Wraith ships that might happen to stop by..."
Rodney opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He closed it and then tried again, but still he couldn't seem to persuade his voice to work. "Oh," he finally got out. "I-I never thought of that. I'm mean, I'm sure I would have if I hadn't been so worried about you dying and all." He started to back away from the bed, pointing toward the door. "I, um, I should go tell Elizabeth. I mean, once she tells them, I'm sure they're going to want me to return for the usual hero-type stuff with all the proper pomp and circumstance. They'll probably give me a medal or something. And while I'm there I should definitely go back and verify that everything is in good working order--wouldn't want it to go offline again, after all, would we? But if I could get a good look at how the system operates... I, um, I should go. Now."
Halfway to the door, Sheppard stopped him. "Rodney? Thanks."
"What?" McKay's mind was already racing with possible arguments for Elizabeth and he totally missed John's meaning.
"You saved my life," reminded the pilot. "So...thanks."
Rodney's grin stretched ear-to-ear, his chest puffing up with pride. "Yes, well, that's what we heroes do, isn't it?"
John nodded his head, chuckling. "So it is."
McKay pointed over his shoulder toward the door. "Okay, so, um, I'll stop by again later. In the meantime you should get some rest, you still look terrible," admonished the physicist. And with a final wave, Rodney headed off to find Elizabeth.
Still grinning, John settled back into his pillows and drifted off to sleep.
~~The End~~