Hope: the refuge of the stupid.
It had been - what, ten days? - since he'd turned up on the island, and Rodney McKay was starting to wonder if he should lose hope. Never much of an optimist, holding out for a rescue in the face of such an impossible circumstance was something he didn't like to do. Besides being stupid, it was useless. Just wishing for something to happen wouldn't make it happen, no matter how much you wanted it to.
He'd never been in such a hopeless situation before. Well, okay, he had, countless times, but at least then he'd known how he'd gotten into it even if he hadn't known how to get out of it. This place, as much as he hated to admit it, had him completely baffled.
No Stargate, but there was a ZPM and a control chair. No hope of escape, yet there was a ship and a couple of boats that no-one seemed to think would get anywhere. No hope of rescue, but people had cellphones and laptops and God knows what else just lying around for anyone to MacGyver up some kind of homing beacon or distress signal or whatever. People just seemed to take the whole thing lying down after a while, and Rodney was no exception. He tended to lie down at the first available opportunity. It was easier to take things that way.
But nearly four years as a member of the Atlantis expedition had taught him better than that, had taught him that the cavalry always rode to the rescue at the very last minute, that the person you'd just seen get blown up usually wasn't dead after all, that there always was a solution just around the corner, no matter how impossible it seemed. So, despite the fact that for all intents and purposes Rodney McKay appeared to have given up, he still held a glimmer of that cursed word, that feeling that had been the downfall of many a stupid person - hope.
He tried not to think about it.
He also tried not to think about what the tropical sun was doing to his skin in the absence of his special SPF 100+ sunblock. He tried to stay out of it as much as he could, but the occasional trip up to the compound was necessary for food and a shower and something to read (even geniuses got bored sometimes) and this made it impossible for him to stay away from the sun's fierce glare.
Sweating and panting slightly as he arrived at the compound steps, Rodney bent at the waist, resting his hands on his knees and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to regain his breath and some semblence of dignity.
In this climate, even a brisk walk was life-threatening. To him, anyway.
He'd never been in such a hopeless situation before. Well, okay, he had, countless times, but at least then he'd known how he'd gotten into it even if he hadn't known how to get out of it. This place, as much as he hated to admit it, had him completely baffled.
No Stargate, but there was a ZPM and a control chair. No hope of escape, yet there was a ship and a couple of boats that no-one seemed to think would get anywhere. No hope of rescue, but people had cellphones and laptops and God knows what else just lying around for anyone to MacGyver up some kind of homing beacon or distress signal or whatever. People just seemed to take the whole thing lying down after a while, and Rodney was no exception. He tended to lie down at the first available opportunity. It was easier to take things that way.
But nearly four years as a member of the Atlantis expedition had taught him better than that, had taught him that the cavalry always rode to the rescue at the very last minute, that the person you'd just seen get blown up usually wasn't dead after all, that there always was a solution just around the corner, no matter how impossible it seemed. So, despite the fact that for all intents and purposes Rodney McKay appeared to have given up, he still held a glimmer of that cursed word, that feeling that had been the downfall of many a stupid person - hope.
He tried not to think about it.
He also tried not to think about what the tropical sun was doing to his skin in the absence of his special SPF 100+ sunblock. He tried to stay out of it as much as he could, but the occasional trip up to the compound was necessary for food and a shower and something to read (even geniuses got bored sometimes) and this made it impossible for him to stay away from the sun's fierce glare.
Sweating and panting slightly as he arrived at the compound steps, Rodney bent at the waist, resting his hands on his knees and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to regain his breath and some semblence of dignity.
In this climate, even a brisk walk was life-threatening. To him, anyway.