SGA Fanfic: So Not Fair (G)
Title: So Not Fair
Rating: G
Category: Team
Length: 3,545
Disclaimer: Don't own them, not for profit, blah blah blah copyright cakes.
Summary: How come Rodney never gets the cool gifts? Huh?
Note: Written for a screen cap challenge in a Yahoo group, and the tinu reference is from my story "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot".
The headsman had finally finished his speech and turned to them. He wasn’t smiling but that in itself wasn’t a bad thing at the moment. The rest of the assembled villagers, however, were all grinning like total maniacs and, as a matter of fact, looked like they were in a partying mood. That was a good sign.
Rodney glanced at his teammates - they were all tired, disheveled, battered and bruised, and no one was smiling. Wait, no, he took that back - Ronon had that faint little grin on his face that seriously scared the crap out of him, especially when Conan was happily blowing away Wraith or teaching him how to spar (i.e. whaling the snot out of him) in the gym. Teyla still looked absolutely radiant, and that was so not fair. And Sheppard was practically out on his feet. For the last three days the, the, the (he mentally snapped his fingers before the name came to him) Tonadi had put them through one grueling test after another to see if they were worthy to be trading partners and allies, and Sheppard, being the leader and all, had been pretty much kept awake through the whole ordeal. His friend was swaying faintly, and when he reached up to rub his eyes like a tired kid Rodney heard a soft murmur come from the crowd. When he looked back at the villagers he saw maybe a dozen women, and a couple men, with totally sappy expressions plastered on their faces as if Sheppard was some fluffy little kitten that had just rolled over on its back and did a cute to get its belly rubbed. Rodney rolled his eyes hard enough it made his sinuses ache and sighed - the Kirk Effect strikes again.
“Now that the trials have ended and you have proven yourselves worthy allies of the Tonadi, we have gifts,” the headsman pronounced.
Rodney perked up. Okay, this was promising. Gifts were good. Gifts were always good. And after the three days of hell he’d … they’d been put through it was completely appropriate, in his opinion, especially since the Toenails, er, Tonadi were sitting on a mother lode of Ancient goodies - their village was built under a giant rock shelter in a deep canyon that was actually the remains of an aircraft hanger sized domed entryway to an Ancient underground complex. A good chunk of the facility was still intact but severely underutilized as food storage for the winter or hidey-holes for when the Wraith showed up. A lot of the goodies had disappeared over the millennia, but they learned there were still rooms deeper in that were left completely untouched for fear of upsetting the spirits of the Ancestors. When Teyla introduced them to the chief - the Athosians had bartered with the Toyotas, um, Tonadi for generations - all it took was Rodney pulling out his life signs detector to scan for energy readings for the guy to perk up and become very eager to talk with them.
And then came the tests….
Rodney dragged his thoughts back to the present, and presents, and wondered when the chief had moved - the guy was now in front of Teyla and the two were exchanging the traditional Athosian greeting. And it just now dawned on him the guy was about the same height as Teyla, maybe an inch taller at the most. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Oh yeah, he knew why - because he’d been focused on not dying the last three days, that’s why.
“Teyla Emmagan, I am glad you brought these children of the Ancestors to us.” The headsman had pulled his head back but still kept his hands on her shoulders and, whoa - did he almost crack a smile? “And though you did not have to endure the trials - you are already a friend of all Tonadi - the show of loyalty to these three truly moved me.”
Rodney blinked. She didn’t have to jump through all the hoops, but she did anyway? Okay, he couldn’t decide if she really was that good of a friend, or a masochist.
“You are most definitely their Heart - I could see how your soft words over the last few days buoyed their spirits and kept them focused.” He glanced briefly at Rodney, and Rodney thought what the hell was that for? “I am afraid our gift to you is somewhat plain, but I believe will fit your own warrior heart.” He motioned to someone in the crowd and the young woman came forward with two long pale gray … sticks.
Teyla’s face lit up when she accepted them, and when she gave them an experimental twirl their purpose became clear to Rodney - they were the right length and diameter for Bantos rods. Then she tapped them together, and the sound was vaguely metallic. “Timur wood! Thank you, Prevaa. I will take great care in finishing them. This is truly a wonderful gift.”
Rodney frowned because he couldn’t remember if Prevaa was his name or title. Ah, he’d just stick with chief since he was doing so well with the tribe’s name. Didn’t want to push it. Speaking of the chief, the guy was now in front of Ronon and staring up at the big guy.
“Ronon Dex,” the man said, his solemn demeanor firmly back in place, “you are the first warrior ever to defeat all of our best in hand-to-hand combat.”
Rodney winced at the memory of that little trial and was glad all over again he’d pretty much washed out by that point and didn’t have to prove that he did not embrace his inner Neanderthal. Sheppard barely took out three of the guys before getting knocked clean out of the ring, Teyla only one more than that, but Ronon mowed down all eight of the buggers in fairly short order. He could have recorded it and sold it back home has a pay-per-view cage match and made millions.
“For you we are honored to give you the Hammer of the Ancestors.” The chief again motioned for someone to step forward, and when Rodney saw just exactly what the Hammer was, he nearly swallowed his tongue - attached to the end of a long ornately carved wooden handle was a ZedPM. The chief accepted it, and when he turned back to Ronon he held it out reverently. “It is said to contain a great power able to crush all enemies before it. Use it wisely.”
“Well, yeah,” Rodney squeaked out and got a warning yet bleary glare from Sheppard. “But, but, but ….” This time John shushed him and Rodney crossed his arms and stuck a knuckle in his mouth.
Ronon took the Hammer, tested its heft, then backed up several steps and gave it a few experimental swings that crossed before him in a blur. The villagers all ooo’d. He rested it on his right shoulder like a Rasta Paul Bunyan with his ax, stepped forward, and nodded his thanks to the chief. Then he smirked - flat out smirked - at Rodney.
“Why you…,” Rodney started, but a very pointy elbow from Sheppard stopped his protest.
“Not now, Rodney,” John warned quietly before the chief was standing in front of him.
“John Sheppard, as a leader your tests were two-fold - not only did they test your skills, but your mental and physical endurance as well. Not once did you waiver from you duty, even when made to keep watch when the rest of us slept, nor complain at the discomforts we threw at you.”
Sheppard shrugged with one shoulder, and when he spoke his voice was gravelly from fatigue. “Eh, I do what I have to to keep my people safe.”
Rodney rolled his eyes again and thoroughly expected an aw shucks, t’weren’t nothin’ from his friend, and if he’d been wearing a cowboy hat he’d have probably tipped it to the chief. But deep down he knew that short little utterance completely summed up John Sheppard in a nutshell. Now, if the guy could just lose that damn annoying suicidal streak….
“And that is truly what defines a leader,” the chief replied with nod. “For you, I have this.” He reached into the voluminous sleeves of his robe and pulled out - and this time Rodney did whimper - an Ancient shield device. “This is the Armor of the Ancestors. Wear it and know it will keep you safe as you watch over your people.”
“Thank you, Prevaa,” John replied, his voice soft with surprised awe. When the device lit up in his palm, a quiet murmur rolled like a wave through the assembled villagers. “This means a lot. I promise not to use it, um, unwisely.” He glanced sideways at Rodney and it was clear he was trying to keep his own impish smirk corralled.
Dammit, and Rodney wanted to throw him off a balcony this time when they got home …. Rodney snapped his attention back to the chief, who was now standing in front of him … frowning? He couldn’t really tell since the guy had reminded him of an albino Geronimo from the second he laid eyes on him and only seemed to have the one sour expression in his repertoire. “So, what do I get?” he just blurted out and bounced like a kid. Something cool, I hope, he thought then heard Sheppard sigh heavily beside him. When the chief actually smiled - and oh, man, that was nearly as scary as the frown - his hopes soared.
“For you, Rodney McKay, we have something truly special.” He reached into his other sleeve, then held out the gift in the palm of his hand.
Rodney just stood there for a moment, his crooked grin frozen in place, before finally reaching out to pick up a small bottle full of an orange liquid. He stared at in horror, no, no, nausea for close to a minute as his grin morphed into a grimace, and it wasn’t until he got another elbow jab from Sheppard before he spoke. “Um, and, ah, this is …?” Really disappointing, he finished internally.
“That is an elixir made from the root of the burak flower. Our wise men have used it since time immemorial to sharpen their minds or seek visions, and it is also used by our warriors to strengthen their endurance when they’ve had to make long runs to carry messages to other villages.” Rodney’s head snapped up and his mouth dropped open, but before he could voice a protest the chief jumped right in. “Do not despair, Rodney McKay - though leaders and warriors keep a village safe, it is the ideas of wise men who can truly make it prosper.” When Rodney continued to stand there with his mouth hanging open, the man softened his expression. “While your friends were completing their final day of tasks, you showed my people how to improve our irrigation system, and for that alone I know we will not have a lean winter this year.” He clasped Rodney’s shoulders. “You have our thanks.” He let go. “A few drops are all that are required. This will last you many years to come.”
“Um, thanks, I … guess?” he replied and heard a snort from Sheppard. He glanced that way and found both him and Ronon really smirking at him, and Sheppard even had the gall to hold up his shield device and waggle it back and forth. “Oh, shut up,” he growled at them.
Two hours later…
The Tanami - dammit - Tonadi had thrown them one hell of a feast after the gift thing, and Rodney was sitting there staring at his little bottle of orange … stuff. The nausea had passed, but only because his belly was full of the best near-chicken they’d ever had, and the pure knee-buckling disappointment still lingered. He slid his eyes to his right. Ronon was next to him, his attention on the cute villager by his side refilling his cup, and the hammer (he just refused to think of it in the capitalized sense because that was just so asinine) was lying across the table in front of him. He reached out, and just when his fingers were a few centimeters away Ronon’s hand flashed out and slapped the back of his hand. “Ow!” Rodney yelled and pulled his hand back. Then he jumped and yelled again when Sheppard kicked him under the table from his left. He looked at his friend, who for the last half hour had had his head down and resting on his arms. He was sure he’d been asleep. “Hey!”
“Rodney, quit trying to touch Ronon’s Hammer,” came a muffled but still nasally reply. “Oh, man, that sounded bad,” followed a moment later.
“I wasn’t!” Rodney said as he shook his hand - the back was getting pretty red after several good smacks and his fingers were tingling.
“Yeah, riiiight.”
“But it’s, it’s, it’s so not fair! You guys got the really cool stuff, well, except for Teyla maybe, and all I got was, was, was this! What if it’s citrus? Huh? Did you think of that? What if they’re trying to kill me off because I couldn’t thump heads or run marathons or wrestle giant mutant Gila monters like you guys? I’m like the lame calf at the edge of the herd that’s being eyed by the circling wolves. Okay, maybe not that completely pathetic, but you get the picture.”
John lifted his head enough to see Rodney through one eye. “Rodney, just because it’s orange doesn’t mean it’s orange.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Rodney, I am certain Carson will analyze it for you once we get back home,” Teyla said from Sheppard’s left. She placed a hand on his back and started rubbing small circles, and he sighed and lowered his head again.
“I can do that,” Rodney grumbled. “But what about the ZedPM? If it has any kind of charge left in it I sure as hell don’t want Conan there damaging it when he uses it to smash Wraith heads in.”
“Oh for cryin’….” Sheppard did lift his head completely this time and glared at Rodney. His eyes were really bloodshot. “I’m sure he’d let you test it to see if it has a charge.”
“Yup,” Ronon said. “Planned on it. It isn’t a good weapon - no weight, balance off. Strictly ceremonial. Gonna hang it on my wall.”
“See there? And if it does have a charge,” John continued, “you can give him one of the dead ones to replace it.”
“No!”
“Look, we all know you use the dead ones for paperweights. You can pony one up.” Rodney started to protest and John held up a finger. “Don’t make me hide all the Batman comics that came on the last supply run.”
Rodney glowered at him. “Okay, fine, he can have a dead one.” Then he was back staring at the bottle. “This is so not fair,” he grumbled again.
Two days later…
The analysis was complete and the stuff was an herbal solution that definitely wasn’t citrus. If anything it had a chemical composition similar to caffeine. “Okay, so this is supposed to increase stamina and clarity?” Rodney said as he held the bottle and studied it under the lights in his lab, the mildly horrified grimace back in place. “Right.” The chief told him it only took a few drops, so he carefully uncorked it, and with an eye dropper pulled up some of the solution. He tilted his head back and let a couple drops fall onto his tongue.
Then proceeded to grimace and make certified yuck faces - it tasted like cinnamon toothpaste spiked with garlic oil and just a hint of anchovy. “Oh, man, that taste would definitely clear something. Gyah.”
As he put the cork back in he could feel the initial point of contact on his tongue tingling. He went to work, and after a couple hours had passed and the promised endurance and clarity hadn’t kicked in yet, at least not that he could tell, he went back to the bottle. He figured it wasn’t working because of the resistance he’d built up since his undergrad days - his blood stream had more caffeine in it now than hemoglobin, for crap’s sake - so he uncorked it again and added an entire eyedropper of the stuff to his coffee. Then, after a moment, added another. He took a drink and grimaced. “Now that’s sacrilegious,” he said and went back to work. “So not fair,” he mumbled to the empty lab.
Three days later…
John, Teyla, and Ronon were just finishing up with breakfast when Zelenka’s voice came over their ear pieces. “Col. Sheppard, please come to Rodney’s lab.”
Sheppard was halfway out of his seat when he tapped his radio. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing serious. You, ah, must see this.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice.
“On our way. Sheppard out.” They received a lot of startled looks as they all rushed out of the mess, and when they charged into Rodney’s lab a minute later they were in time to see Zelenka take a picture of something on the floor.
The Czech scientist glanced over his shoulder at them and raised a finger to his lips. “Shh, you’ll disturb Sleeping Beauty.”
They carefully fanned out around Zelenka and found Rodney lying on his stomach on the paper strewn floor of his lab, his cheek pressed to a piece of paper filled with tiny writing, and blissfully snoring away.
John put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “When did this happen?” he said and sounded very … relieved.
Zelenka pooched his lips out and shook his head. “I do not know. When I left him at one this morning he was still bouncing around like possessed Jack Russell terrier.”
John glanced around at the disaster - there were papers everywhere, at least three extra white boards stolen from other labs all covered with formulae and diagrams, and dozens of empty Powerbar wrappers. Oh, and half a dozen laptops all in sleep mode. He let out a snort and rubbed his neck. “About damn time.”
“Yes,” Teyla said with a sigh. “I believe this was worse than the tinu incident.”
“Please, do not mention tinu,” Zelenka said and held a hand to his stomach. “Still cannot stand sight of Immodium or color lavender.” He grimaced and shook his head.
Ronon just stood there with his arms crossed and grinned, his shoulders jumping with silent laughter.
“Hey, Rodney, wake up!” John yelled.
“No!” Zelenka said, his hands up and waving frantically.
Rodney continued snoring.
Ronon nudged him with a foot. “Hey, McKay, they’re serving cheesy Spam bake.”
The snoring stuttered but that was about it.
Teyla’s eyebrows rose. “I would not believe it had I not witnessed it.”
John grinned. “Yeah, we better get him to the infirmary before he floods his lab with his own drool.” He crouched down and gently rolled Rodney over. A piece of paper remained stuck to his cheek, and when Teyla reached down and pulled it away the ghostly tattoo of reversed blue formulae stayed on his cheek. Zelenka took another picture. “Send me a copy?” John said, and Zelenka nodded.
“You two are horrible,” Teyla said, then wound up hiding her own smile a second later.
“Hey, Chewie, get his feet. I got this end.” They hoisted Rodney off the floor and John spotted the bottle of orange stuff on the work counter as he adjusted his hold so his friend’s shoulders were against his chest. He jerked his head towards it. “Teyla, grab that - I think Carson needs to lock it away with the rest of the controlled substances.”
“That is a very good idea.” Teyla grabbed it and stuffed it into her jacket pocket.
They made an odd little procession to the infirmary, and strangely enough, no one seemed to give them a second glance.
Late the next day…
Rodney slowly and gratefully clawed his way up out of a strange dream where he was being chased by giant mutant yams with spindly hairy legs that were going yaaaa and he had to escape into a tunnel but was worried because the windows in it were open…. Yeah, didn’t make any sense but holy crap was it frustrating. He kept his eyes shut as the real world slowly and painfully intruded - his eyes felt like two nuclear powered raisins, he was certain his head was expanding a good meter with every thud of his heart, and his mouth…. If it was possible to have his taste buds secede from his body right then and there he’d support them completely. He debated opening his eyes because he had a sneaky suspicion as to what he’d see, but eventually his own damn curiosity got the best of him and he slowly cracked them open. Yup, there was his team, plus Zelenka and Carson, all standing around the foot of the bed, grinning. No, no, Carson was scowling.
“Oh, shut up,” Rodney growled, then winced, pulled the covers up over his head, and rolled over on his side to curl up in a ball of hung over misery. “So not fair,” he grumbled and ignored the quiet snickers.
Rating: G
Category: Team
Length: 3,545
Disclaimer: Don't own them, not for profit, blah blah blah copyright cakes.
Summary: How come Rodney never gets the cool gifts? Huh?
Note: Written for a screen cap challenge in a Yahoo group, and the tinu reference is from my story "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot".
The headsman had finally finished his speech and turned to them. He wasn’t smiling but that in itself wasn’t a bad thing at the moment. The rest of the assembled villagers, however, were all grinning like total maniacs and, as a matter of fact, looked like they were in a partying mood. That was a good sign.
Rodney glanced at his teammates - they were all tired, disheveled, battered and bruised, and no one was smiling. Wait, no, he took that back - Ronon had that faint little grin on his face that seriously scared the crap out of him, especially when Conan was happily blowing away Wraith or teaching him how to spar (i.e. whaling the snot out of him) in the gym. Teyla still looked absolutely radiant, and that was so not fair. And Sheppard was practically out on his feet. For the last three days the, the, the (he mentally snapped his fingers before the name came to him) Tonadi had put them through one grueling test after another to see if they were worthy to be trading partners and allies, and Sheppard, being the leader and all, had been pretty much kept awake through the whole ordeal. His friend was swaying faintly, and when he reached up to rub his eyes like a tired kid Rodney heard a soft murmur come from the crowd. When he looked back at the villagers he saw maybe a dozen women, and a couple men, with totally sappy expressions plastered on their faces as if Sheppard was some fluffy little kitten that had just rolled over on its back and did a cute to get its belly rubbed. Rodney rolled his eyes hard enough it made his sinuses ache and sighed - the Kirk Effect strikes again.
“Now that the trials have ended and you have proven yourselves worthy allies of the Tonadi, we have gifts,” the headsman pronounced.
Rodney perked up. Okay, this was promising. Gifts were good. Gifts were always good. And after the three days of hell he’d … they’d been put through it was completely appropriate, in his opinion, especially since the Toenails, er, Tonadi were sitting on a mother lode of Ancient goodies - their village was built under a giant rock shelter in a deep canyon that was actually the remains of an aircraft hanger sized domed entryway to an Ancient underground complex. A good chunk of the facility was still intact but severely underutilized as food storage for the winter or hidey-holes for when the Wraith showed up. A lot of the goodies had disappeared over the millennia, but they learned there were still rooms deeper in that were left completely untouched for fear of upsetting the spirits of the Ancestors. When Teyla introduced them to the chief - the Athosians had bartered with the Toyotas, um, Tonadi for generations - all it took was Rodney pulling out his life signs detector to scan for energy readings for the guy to perk up and become very eager to talk with them.
And then came the tests….
Rodney dragged his thoughts back to the present, and presents, and wondered when the chief had moved - the guy was now in front of Teyla and the two were exchanging the traditional Athosian greeting. And it just now dawned on him the guy was about the same height as Teyla, maybe an inch taller at the most. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Oh yeah, he knew why - because he’d been focused on not dying the last three days, that’s why.
“Teyla Emmagan, I am glad you brought these children of the Ancestors to us.” The headsman had pulled his head back but still kept his hands on her shoulders and, whoa - did he almost crack a smile? “And though you did not have to endure the trials - you are already a friend of all Tonadi - the show of loyalty to these three truly moved me.”
Rodney blinked. She didn’t have to jump through all the hoops, but she did anyway? Okay, he couldn’t decide if she really was that good of a friend, or a masochist.
“You are most definitely their Heart - I could see how your soft words over the last few days buoyed their spirits and kept them focused.” He glanced briefly at Rodney, and Rodney thought what the hell was that for? “I am afraid our gift to you is somewhat plain, but I believe will fit your own warrior heart.” He motioned to someone in the crowd and the young woman came forward with two long pale gray … sticks.
Teyla’s face lit up when she accepted them, and when she gave them an experimental twirl their purpose became clear to Rodney - they were the right length and diameter for Bantos rods. Then she tapped them together, and the sound was vaguely metallic. “Timur wood! Thank you, Prevaa. I will take great care in finishing them. This is truly a wonderful gift.”
Rodney frowned because he couldn’t remember if Prevaa was his name or title. Ah, he’d just stick with chief since he was doing so well with the tribe’s name. Didn’t want to push it. Speaking of the chief, the guy was now in front of Ronon and staring up at the big guy.
“Ronon Dex,” the man said, his solemn demeanor firmly back in place, “you are the first warrior ever to defeat all of our best in hand-to-hand combat.”
Rodney winced at the memory of that little trial and was glad all over again he’d pretty much washed out by that point and didn’t have to prove that he did not embrace his inner Neanderthal. Sheppard barely took out three of the guys before getting knocked clean out of the ring, Teyla only one more than that, but Ronon mowed down all eight of the buggers in fairly short order. He could have recorded it and sold it back home has a pay-per-view cage match and made millions.
“For you we are honored to give you the Hammer of the Ancestors.” The chief again motioned for someone to step forward, and when Rodney saw just exactly what the Hammer was, he nearly swallowed his tongue - attached to the end of a long ornately carved wooden handle was a ZedPM. The chief accepted it, and when he turned back to Ronon he held it out reverently. “It is said to contain a great power able to crush all enemies before it. Use it wisely.”
“Well, yeah,” Rodney squeaked out and got a warning yet bleary glare from Sheppard. “But, but, but ….” This time John shushed him and Rodney crossed his arms and stuck a knuckle in his mouth.
Ronon took the Hammer, tested its heft, then backed up several steps and gave it a few experimental swings that crossed before him in a blur. The villagers all ooo’d. He rested it on his right shoulder like a Rasta Paul Bunyan with his ax, stepped forward, and nodded his thanks to the chief. Then he smirked - flat out smirked - at Rodney.
“Why you…,” Rodney started, but a very pointy elbow from Sheppard stopped his protest.
“Not now, Rodney,” John warned quietly before the chief was standing in front of him.
“John Sheppard, as a leader your tests were two-fold - not only did they test your skills, but your mental and physical endurance as well. Not once did you waiver from you duty, even when made to keep watch when the rest of us slept, nor complain at the discomforts we threw at you.”
Sheppard shrugged with one shoulder, and when he spoke his voice was gravelly from fatigue. “Eh, I do what I have to to keep my people safe.”
Rodney rolled his eyes again and thoroughly expected an aw shucks, t’weren’t nothin’ from his friend, and if he’d been wearing a cowboy hat he’d have probably tipped it to the chief. But deep down he knew that short little utterance completely summed up John Sheppard in a nutshell. Now, if the guy could just lose that damn annoying suicidal streak….
“And that is truly what defines a leader,” the chief replied with nod. “For you, I have this.” He reached into the voluminous sleeves of his robe and pulled out - and this time Rodney did whimper - an Ancient shield device. “This is the Armor of the Ancestors. Wear it and know it will keep you safe as you watch over your people.”
“Thank you, Prevaa,” John replied, his voice soft with surprised awe. When the device lit up in his palm, a quiet murmur rolled like a wave through the assembled villagers. “This means a lot. I promise not to use it, um, unwisely.” He glanced sideways at Rodney and it was clear he was trying to keep his own impish smirk corralled.
Dammit, and Rodney wanted to throw him off a balcony this time when they got home …. Rodney snapped his attention back to the chief, who was now standing in front of him … frowning? He couldn’t really tell since the guy had reminded him of an albino Geronimo from the second he laid eyes on him and only seemed to have the one sour expression in his repertoire. “So, what do I get?” he just blurted out and bounced like a kid. Something cool, I hope, he thought then heard Sheppard sigh heavily beside him. When the chief actually smiled - and oh, man, that was nearly as scary as the frown - his hopes soared.
“For you, Rodney McKay, we have something truly special.” He reached into his other sleeve, then held out the gift in the palm of his hand.
Rodney just stood there for a moment, his crooked grin frozen in place, before finally reaching out to pick up a small bottle full of an orange liquid. He stared at in horror, no, no, nausea for close to a minute as his grin morphed into a grimace, and it wasn’t until he got another elbow jab from Sheppard before he spoke. “Um, and, ah, this is …?” Really disappointing, he finished internally.
“That is an elixir made from the root of the burak flower. Our wise men have used it since time immemorial to sharpen their minds or seek visions, and it is also used by our warriors to strengthen their endurance when they’ve had to make long runs to carry messages to other villages.” Rodney’s head snapped up and his mouth dropped open, but before he could voice a protest the chief jumped right in. “Do not despair, Rodney McKay - though leaders and warriors keep a village safe, it is the ideas of wise men who can truly make it prosper.” When Rodney continued to stand there with his mouth hanging open, the man softened his expression. “While your friends were completing their final day of tasks, you showed my people how to improve our irrigation system, and for that alone I know we will not have a lean winter this year.” He clasped Rodney’s shoulders. “You have our thanks.” He let go. “A few drops are all that are required. This will last you many years to come.”
“Um, thanks, I … guess?” he replied and heard a snort from Sheppard. He glanced that way and found both him and Ronon really smirking at him, and Sheppard even had the gall to hold up his shield device and waggle it back and forth. “Oh, shut up,” he growled at them.
Two hours later…
The Tanami - dammit - Tonadi had thrown them one hell of a feast after the gift thing, and Rodney was sitting there staring at his little bottle of orange … stuff. The nausea had passed, but only because his belly was full of the best near-chicken they’d ever had, and the pure knee-buckling disappointment still lingered. He slid his eyes to his right. Ronon was next to him, his attention on the cute villager by his side refilling his cup, and the hammer (he just refused to think of it in the capitalized sense because that was just so asinine) was lying across the table in front of him. He reached out, and just when his fingers were a few centimeters away Ronon’s hand flashed out and slapped the back of his hand. “Ow!” Rodney yelled and pulled his hand back. Then he jumped and yelled again when Sheppard kicked him under the table from his left. He looked at his friend, who for the last half hour had had his head down and resting on his arms. He was sure he’d been asleep. “Hey!”
“Rodney, quit trying to touch Ronon’s Hammer,” came a muffled but still nasally reply. “Oh, man, that sounded bad,” followed a moment later.
“I wasn’t!” Rodney said as he shook his hand - the back was getting pretty red after several good smacks and his fingers were tingling.
“Yeah, riiiight.”
“But it’s, it’s, it’s so not fair! You guys got the really cool stuff, well, except for Teyla maybe, and all I got was, was, was this! What if it’s citrus? Huh? Did you think of that? What if they’re trying to kill me off because I couldn’t thump heads or run marathons or wrestle giant mutant Gila monters like you guys? I’m like the lame calf at the edge of the herd that’s being eyed by the circling wolves. Okay, maybe not that completely pathetic, but you get the picture.”
John lifted his head enough to see Rodney through one eye. “Rodney, just because it’s orange doesn’t mean it’s orange.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Rodney, I am certain Carson will analyze it for you once we get back home,” Teyla said from Sheppard’s left. She placed a hand on his back and started rubbing small circles, and he sighed and lowered his head again.
“I can do that,” Rodney grumbled. “But what about the ZedPM? If it has any kind of charge left in it I sure as hell don’t want Conan there damaging it when he uses it to smash Wraith heads in.”
“Oh for cryin’….” Sheppard did lift his head completely this time and glared at Rodney. His eyes were really bloodshot. “I’m sure he’d let you test it to see if it has a charge.”
“Yup,” Ronon said. “Planned on it. It isn’t a good weapon - no weight, balance off. Strictly ceremonial. Gonna hang it on my wall.”
“See there? And if it does have a charge,” John continued, “you can give him one of the dead ones to replace it.”
“No!”
“Look, we all know you use the dead ones for paperweights. You can pony one up.” Rodney started to protest and John held up a finger. “Don’t make me hide all the Batman comics that came on the last supply run.”
Rodney glowered at him. “Okay, fine, he can have a dead one.” Then he was back staring at the bottle. “This is so not fair,” he grumbled again.
Two days later…
The analysis was complete and the stuff was an herbal solution that definitely wasn’t citrus. If anything it had a chemical composition similar to caffeine. “Okay, so this is supposed to increase stamina and clarity?” Rodney said as he held the bottle and studied it under the lights in his lab, the mildly horrified grimace back in place. “Right.” The chief told him it only took a few drops, so he carefully uncorked it, and with an eye dropper pulled up some of the solution. He tilted his head back and let a couple drops fall onto his tongue.
Then proceeded to grimace and make certified yuck faces - it tasted like cinnamon toothpaste spiked with garlic oil and just a hint of anchovy. “Oh, man, that taste would definitely clear something. Gyah.”
As he put the cork back in he could feel the initial point of contact on his tongue tingling. He went to work, and after a couple hours had passed and the promised endurance and clarity hadn’t kicked in yet, at least not that he could tell, he went back to the bottle. He figured it wasn’t working because of the resistance he’d built up since his undergrad days - his blood stream had more caffeine in it now than hemoglobin, for crap’s sake - so he uncorked it again and added an entire eyedropper of the stuff to his coffee. Then, after a moment, added another. He took a drink and grimaced. “Now that’s sacrilegious,” he said and went back to work. “So not fair,” he mumbled to the empty lab.
Three days later…
John, Teyla, and Ronon were just finishing up with breakfast when Zelenka’s voice came over their ear pieces. “Col. Sheppard, please come to Rodney’s lab.”
Sheppard was halfway out of his seat when he tapped his radio. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing serious. You, ah, must see this.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice.
“On our way. Sheppard out.” They received a lot of startled looks as they all rushed out of the mess, and when they charged into Rodney’s lab a minute later they were in time to see Zelenka take a picture of something on the floor.
The Czech scientist glanced over his shoulder at them and raised a finger to his lips. “Shh, you’ll disturb Sleeping Beauty.”
They carefully fanned out around Zelenka and found Rodney lying on his stomach on the paper strewn floor of his lab, his cheek pressed to a piece of paper filled with tiny writing, and blissfully snoring away.
John put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “When did this happen?” he said and sounded very … relieved.
Zelenka pooched his lips out and shook his head. “I do not know. When I left him at one this morning he was still bouncing around like possessed Jack Russell terrier.”
John glanced around at the disaster - there were papers everywhere, at least three extra white boards stolen from other labs all covered with formulae and diagrams, and dozens of empty Powerbar wrappers. Oh, and half a dozen laptops all in sleep mode. He let out a snort and rubbed his neck. “About damn time.”
“Yes,” Teyla said with a sigh. “I believe this was worse than the tinu incident.”
“Please, do not mention tinu,” Zelenka said and held a hand to his stomach. “Still cannot stand sight of Immodium or color lavender.” He grimaced and shook his head.
Ronon just stood there with his arms crossed and grinned, his shoulders jumping with silent laughter.
“Hey, Rodney, wake up!” John yelled.
“No!” Zelenka said, his hands up and waving frantically.
Rodney continued snoring.
Ronon nudged him with a foot. “Hey, McKay, they’re serving cheesy Spam bake.”
The snoring stuttered but that was about it.
Teyla’s eyebrows rose. “I would not believe it had I not witnessed it.”
John grinned. “Yeah, we better get him to the infirmary before he floods his lab with his own drool.” He crouched down and gently rolled Rodney over. A piece of paper remained stuck to his cheek, and when Teyla reached down and pulled it away the ghostly tattoo of reversed blue formulae stayed on his cheek. Zelenka took another picture. “Send me a copy?” John said, and Zelenka nodded.
“You two are horrible,” Teyla said, then wound up hiding her own smile a second later.
“Hey, Chewie, get his feet. I got this end.” They hoisted Rodney off the floor and John spotted the bottle of orange stuff on the work counter as he adjusted his hold so his friend’s shoulders were against his chest. He jerked his head towards it. “Teyla, grab that - I think Carson needs to lock it away with the rest of the controlled substances.”
“That is a very good idea.” Teyla grabbed it and stuffed it into her jacket pocket.
They made an odd little procession to the infirmary, and strangely enough, no one seemed to give them a second glance.
Late the next day…
Rodney slowly and gratefully clawed his way up out of a strange dream where he was being chased by giant mutant yams with spindly hairy legs that were going yaaaa and he had to escape into a tunnel but was worried because the windows in it were open…. Yeah, didn’t make any sense but holy crap was it frustrating. He kept his eyes shut as the real world slowly and painfully intruded - his eyes felt like two nuclear powered raisins, he was certain his head was expanding a good meter with every thud of his heart, and his mouth…. If it was possible to have his taste buds secede from his body right then and there he’d support them completely. He debated opening his eyes because he had a sneaky suspicion as to what he’d see, but eventually his own damn curiosity got the best of him and he slowly cracked them open. Yup, there was his team, plus Zelenka and Carson, all standing around the foot of the bed, grinning. No, no, Carson was scowling.
“Oh, shut up,” Rodney growled, then winced, pulled the covers up over his head, and rolled over on his side to curl up in a ball of hung over misery. “So not fair,” he grumbled and ignored the quiet snickers.