Untitled snippet
Self-indulging snippet, McKay/Sheppard friendship. Pre-slash if you squint.
I know nothing about either electrophysics or guns. So if this wouldn't work in reality: let's just pretend it does. ;)
~~~
Watching Sheppard drown had to be the worst thing since coming to the Pegasus Galaxy. On second thought, no, watching Sheppard get his life sucked out of him by a Wraith had been the worst thing, closely followed by watching Sheppard first get his life sucked out of him by a bug and then have himself killed by Ford.
Perhaps Rodney should just have stayed at home.
But then it would be another scientist trying to save the Colonel's life now, someone not as fast, not as brilliant, and Sheppard would, well... he'd die. Something Rodney would give almost anything to keep from happening.
They really should have known better than to go offworld without Ronon and Teyla. The mission had been less than successful right from the beginning: capture, torture, Sheppard needlessly mouthing 'don't tell them anything' from behind a forcefield in a tube that had been rapidly filling with water, Rodney unable to do anything but watch. By the time the rescue team had arrived and Marines had stormed the building, the water had just reached the tube's upper rim.
Sheppard was drowning.
It didn't help that the technology was unlike anything they'd come across up until now, or that the whole filling process seemed to be a fixed program with the time of release pre-set somewhere during the next hour. Far too late.
Rodney gave up on the software, judging it a lost case. Taking the control console's panels off was relatively easy, but of course it cost several precious seconds during which the Colonel's face turned red from holding his breath. Sheppard was swimming - diving - inside the tube, trying to keep away from the forcefield and making impatient little get-on-with-it gestures. Rodney ignored him, had to, as he examined the wires and connections inside the console, trying to figure out what went where and why. The tube wasn't made of plastic or anything, just a single forcefield, so a complete shutdown should do the trick. If there was a separate energy source for emergencies, though, he'd end up frying the only chance he had of getting Sheppard out of this thing alive.
"Doctor-" one of the Marines started nervously.
"Shut up!" Rodney snapped, not even turning around.
It was hard to concentrate on anything with Sheppard's legs kicking weakly right in front of him, but Rodney didn't look up. Definitely didn't notice the silvery stream of bubbles escaping from Sheppard's lips as he let out what little oxygen had been left inside his lungs, didn't see the way Sheppard's hands had started scrabbling against the forcefield in a helpless attempt to get out, although the resulting discharges had to hurt like hell.
Discharges. Fuck.
Spinning around, Rodney snapped his fingers at a bewildered Marine.
"P-90."
To his credit, the soldier didn't even ask before handing him the gun. Rodney took it, sprinted over to the tube where Sheppard's movements had begun to slow, and rammed the gun barrel-first into a crack in the floor before resting the handle against the forcefield. He snatched his hand back as the current started to run through the metal.
"What are you doing?" the nervous Marine from before wanted to know.
"Controlled overload," Rodney snapped back, practically flinging himself at the console where he proceeded to pull every wire, every plug he could find, praying to a God he didn't believe in that he was doing the right thing. Sheppard's body was jerking uncontrollably in its flooded cage, limbs twitching, mouth open, eyes glassing over as their gazes met. If this didn't work...
With a grim expression, Rodney ripped out the last connection, and the emergency generator buzzed to life, trying to make up for the energy loss through the P-90 by increasing the power flow, and increasing, and increasing, hopefully burning itself out in the process.
Then the system simply shut down in what had to be the most anticlimactic moment, ever, Sheppard's body tumbling to the ground with a rush of icy water. The Marines jumped forward, but it was Rodney who caught him, Rodney who lowered him to the ground, Sheppard clinging to him with all the strength of a newborn kitten as he drew in a deep, shaky, breath and then retched, retched, kept on retching, expelling the water he'd swallowed. Rodney alternated between stroking and clumsily petting his back until Sheppard sagged against him, wet and miserable, for once not frowning on Rodney touching him. They knelt together on the wet floor, Sheppard's dripping hair plastered to his skull, his body shivering underneath the soaked clothes while he tried to catch his breath.
"Excuse me, do you find this particularly interesting? Isn't there something you should be doing, like, oh, getting a Jumper to the front door or telling Atlantis to have a med team on standby?" Rodney spat at the gaping Marines, and they had the grace to look vaguely sheepish before jumping into action, getting Sheppard a dry jacket, a blanket, a flask of water. Rodney stared at the last item until the Marine stepped back, muttered something and got out of his sight. All the better. Sheppard shook his head.
"Be nice, Rodney," he rasped, "they saved your life."
"I'm not thanking them for doing their job," Rodney muttered darkly, trying not to look down to where Sheppard was practically lying across his thighs, half-drowned and exhausted and, well. Alive.
The way he saw it, a job well done was pretty much its own reward.
~~~
End.
I know nothing about either electrophysics or guns. So if this wouldn't work in reality: let's just pretend it does. ;)
~~~
Watching Sheppard drown had to be the worst thing since coming to the Pegasus Galaxy. On second thought, no, watching Sheppard get his life sucked out of him by a Wraith had been the worst thing, closely followed by watching Sheppard first get his life sucked out of him by a bug and then have himself killed by Ford.
Perhaps Rodney should just have stayed at home.
But then it would be another scientist trying to save the Colonel's life now, someone not as fast, not as brilliant, and Sheppard would, well... he'd die. Something Rodney would give almost anything to keep from happening.
They really should have known better than to go offworld without Ronon and Teyla. The mission had been less than successful right from the beginning: capture, torture, Sheppard needlessly mouthing 'don't tell them anything' from behind a forcefield in a tube that had been rapidly filling with water, Rodney unable to do anything but watch. By the time the rescue team had arrived and Marines had stormed the building, the water had just reached the tube's upper rim.
Sheppard was drowning.
It didn't help that the technology was unlike anything they'd come across up until now, or that the whole filling process seemed to be a fixed program with the time of release pre-set somewhere during the next hour. Far too late.
Rodney gave up on the software, judging it a lost case. Taking the control console's panels off was relatively easy, but of course it cost several precious seconds during which the Colonel's face turned red from holding his breath. Sheppard was swimming - diving - inside the tube, trying to keep away from the forcefield and making impatient little get-on-with-it gestures. Rodney ignored him, had to, as he examined the wires and connections inside the console, trying to figure out what went where and why. The tube wasn't made of plastic or anything, just a single forcefield, so a complete shutdown should do the trick. If there was a separate energy source for emergencies, though, he'd end up frying the only chance he had of getting Sheppard out of this thing alive.
"Doctor-" one of the Marines started nervously.
"Shut up!" Rodney snapped, not even turning around.
It was hard to concentrate on anything with Sheppard's legs kicking weakly right in front of him, but Rodney didn't look up. Definitely didn't notice the silvery stream of bubbles escaping from Sheppard's lips as he let out what little oxygen had been left inside his lungs, didn't see the way Sheppard's hands had started scrabbling against the forcefield in a helpless attempt to get out, although the resulting discharges had to hurt like hell.
Discharges. Fuck.
Spinning around, Rodney snapped his fingers at a bewildered Marine.
"P-90."
To his credit, the soldier didn't even ask before handing him the gun. Rodney took it, sprinted over to the tube where Sheppard's movements had begun to slow, and rammed the gun barrel-first into a crack in the floor before resting the handle against the forcefield. He snatched his hand back as the current started to run through the metal.
"What are you doing?" the nervous Marine from before wanted to know.
"Controlled overload," Rodney snapped back, practically flinging himself at the console where he proceeded to pull every wire, every plug he could find, praying to a God he didn't believe in that he was doing the right thing. Sheppard's body was jerking uncontrollably in its flooded cage, limbs twitching, mouth open, eyes glassing over as their gazes met. If this didn't work...
With a grim expression, Rodney ripped out the last connection, and the emergency generator buzzed to life, trying to make up for the energy loss through the P-90 by increasing the power flow, and increasing, and increasing, hopefully burning itself out in the process.
Then the system simply shut down in what had to be the most anticlimactic moment, ever, Sheppard's body tumbling to the ground with a rush of icy water. The Marines jumped forward, but it was Rodney who caught him, Rodney who lowered him to the ground, Sheppard clinging to him with all the strength of a newborn kitten as he drew in a deep, shaky, breath and then retched, retched, kept on retching, expelling the water he'd swallowed. Rodney alternated between stroking and clumsily petting his back until Sheppard sagged against him, wet and miserable, for once not frowning on Rodney touching him. They knelt together on the wet floor, Sheppard's dripping hair plastered to his skull, his body shivering underneath the soaked clothes while he tried to catch his breath.
"Excuse me, do you find this particularly interesting? Isn't there something you should be doing, like, oh, getting a Jumper to the front door or telling Atlantis to have a med team on standby?" Rodney spat at the gaping Marines, and they had the grace to look vaguely sheepish before jumping into action, getting Sheppard a dry jacket, a blanket, a flask of water. Rodney stared at the last item until the Marine stepped back, muttered something and got out of his sight. All the better. Sheppard shook his head.
"Be nice, Rodney," he rasped, "they saved your life."
"I'm not thanking them for doing their job," Rodney muttered darkly, trying not to look down to where Sheppard was practically lying across his thighs, half-drowned and exhausted and, well. Alive.
The way he saw it, a job well done was pretty much its own reward.
~~~
End.