Give the Man a Hand, by blade_girl

[blade_girl]

Title: Give the Man a Hand
Author: Blade blade_girl
Genre: Humor
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, team
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG, Gen…ish
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, just use ‘em.
Words: 10,438. More like a flash-flood fic.
Warnings: Apply fic to affect area. If condition persists for more than three days, consult writer.
Author’s note: Thanks to crazymadi and history_gurl for the beta special. Try it; it’s good.

Summary: All in all, it was just their basic mission.

They had come through the gate later than scheduled, but before Elizabeth was ready to order another team to go and find them. John and Ronon were supporting Rodney, who was conscious but babbling in obvious panic. The team had been sent straight to the infirmary.

All in all, it was just their basic mission.

McKay had seized Carson by the lapels of his lab coat upon sight. “You’ve got to do something! Get it… get it off me!”

“Easy lad,” the doctor said consolingly, prying the scientist’s fingers from his coat with John’s help.

“No, seriously,” Rodney continued, throwing himself onto a bed in an effort to get the treatment started sooner. “You HAVE to get it OFF me!”

Eyes widening, Carson looked to Sheppard. “Not another bloody bug-attachment?”

Sheppard exchanged a look with Ronon and Teyla. “Not exactly.”

Rodney was shrugging off his tac vest. “Here, Carson. It’s right here. Do something. Now. Now, please! Now!” He yanked up his black tee in an uncharacteristic lack of personal modesty.

Carson stared, taking a step toward the bed and leaning down for a closer look. “Dear God.”

“Less invoking, more removing!”

“Is that…” Carson stopped, seemingly trying to form the right question. “Is that…?”

Apparently, that was as good as it was going to get. Sheppard nodded. “Yeah. It’s…” He looked at Teyla, who looked at Ronon, who merely shrugged.

Sighing explosively, Rodney bellowed, “Yes! It’s exactly what it looks like. It’s a hand. An extra hand. Growing from my right side! Now, do something about it!”

Carson gaped for a second, licked his lips, and touched the hand. The fingers twitched, and he pulled his own hand back quickly. He’d seen worse things, more disgusting things, but this… This was just not right. In fact, it took not rightness to dizzying heights. “How is this possible?”

“Hello? Allow me to introduce you two. Carson, this is the Pegasus Galaxy, over one billion insane scenarios served. Pegasus, Carson, slowest-reacting doctor in the universe!”

“It was yet another weird ritual,” Sheppard said quickly. “We’re not sure how it worked, or why, or… or anything.”

“The Rebharans called it the Rite of Enhancement,” Teyla elaborated. “Rodney was under the impression it would involve an exchange of some kind of knowledge.” There was subtle rebuke in her tone, suggesting that she had expressed reservations at his participation. Rodney reacted quickly, waving one of his original hands.

“Oh, don’t even try to imply an ‘I told you so!’ We had no reason to think there’d be any kind of physical transformation involved. And besides, where I come from, ‘enhancement’ of the physical kind generally involves an increase in an appendage that already exists!”

“Yeah,” Sheppard said, smirking. “Something to smile about.” The smirk quickly disappeared in the face of Rodney’s murderous scowl.

“I dunno,” Ronon said lazily. “A thing like this could come in handy.”

John just couldn’t seem to help himself. “Maybe, but there’s something about it I can’t quite put my finger on…”

“Get out!” Rodney barked. “Carson has an amputation to perform.”

* * * * * * * *

“How is he?” Elizabeth asked.

Carson gestured for her to keep her voice down, but it was too late. “Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Tell this Highland quack to do his job!”

Moving toward the bed, Elizabeth smiled. “Rodney, how do you feel?”

“With my hands. All THREE of them! For the arithmetically challenged among you, that’s one more than I should have.”

Elizabeth put on her very best negotiating-in-a-tricky-situation face. “Rodney, Carson tells me that he’s reluctant to perform any surgery until he has a better understanding of exactly what is happening to you. I’m inclined to agree with him.”

“Well, it’s good to know that when he needs a second opinion, he can turn to a diplomat with a background in languages and no medical training.”

Carson sighed. “Rodney, there’s no way I’m cuttin’ on you until I’m certain I won’t be making things worse.”

“How in the name of insert holy noun here could restoring me to a two-handed man possibly be construed as making things worse?”

“First of all, I’m not sure exactly what was done to you! There could be other… changes taking place that just haven’t shown themselves yet.”

“Fine. I’ll go on record now as saying that if anything else ‘extra’ starts growing, you can cut that off, too.”

“It’s not that bloody simple! That hand o’ yours? It’s still changing, growing. It has a wrist now,” he added, for Elizabeth’s benefit.

She looked curious. “It didn’t start out with one?” She glanced at Rodney.

“No, it started out as this annoying itch. Then a finger began poking through. We won’t go into what I thought was happening at that point. Then some more fingers came, and the palm, and suddenly the concept of clapping became less of a no-brainer.” He took note of the look on Elizabeth’s face and frowned. “What?”

“Hmm? Oh. Um, well. It’s just that I… I mean…” Discomfited was not a good look for her, given that she was the head of the expedition and maker of life-and-death decisions and all. Rodney had no patience for guessing games just now, either.

“For God’s sake, Elizabeth! Spit it out!”

Their fearless leader looked helplessly at Carson, who suddenly got it. “Rodney,” he said gently, “I think Elizabeth would like to see it.” Rodney’s eyes widened in horror.

“It’s not mere curiosity,” she hastily added. “I mean, sure, I’m curious, but I’m also responsible for the city, and I have a kind of… obligation to keep-”

Pulling up the sheet and his knees to his chest, Rodney yelped, “This is exactly what I didn’t want! I’m not going on display for the general populace like some sideshow freak.”

“It’s hardly the general populace, Rodney. Come now, lad - I need to have a look at it, anyway.” Carson pushed Rodney’s knees downward and tugged the sheet from his grasp.

It stuck somehow on the way down the scientist’s body. Carson tugged experimentally again, but it remained hung up at a suspicious location. He looked a question at his patient, who sighed resignedly. The mysterious resistance disappeared, and Carson pulled the sheet away from Rodney’s upper body.

The hand was protruding from beneath the bunched-up hem of the scrubs shirt, having just been engaged in the act of clutching the sheet. It waved at the spectators half-heartedly. “So you have full voluntary control, now? When did that happen?”

Rodney shrugged, looking tired and miserable. “’Bout an hour ago, I guess.”

Elizabeth was gazing at the new appendage with a disturbingly fascinated expression. “So you can move it now?”

“Yes.” Rodney sighed and wiggled the hand with little enthusiasm.

“That’s amazing. How far can it reach?”

The gazes of both doctor and patient were suddenly riveted on Elizabeth. Carson looked shocked. Rodney merely groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow with a plop. “I used to respect you.”

Red was generally a good color on Elizabeth, but not when it covered her entire face. “I was simply asking,” she said carefully, folding her arms and attempting to wrap herself in a dignity that she would probably never fully regain in the eyes of either of these men, “in order to help determine what sort of purpose this new… extremity might be intended for. The range of its motion could certainly… help in… determining that.”

There was a long pause, during which Elizabeth’s face got redder. “Um, well, yes,” Carson said, clearing his throat. “We’ll surely be doing some tests as the, ah, situation progresses.”

Nodding crisply in vintage leader-of-the-city fashion, she said, “Keep me informed,” and spun on her heel in a hurry to flee.

“Range of motion information, got it.,” Rodney called loudly after her. “Any other measurements you’d like us to compile?”

* * * * * * *

Radek was staring at him. Even though Rodney was engrossed in the laptop perched on his sheet-covered knees and inhaling a faux-ham sandwich, he found the attention distracting.

“What?” he shouted. “If you’re planning to do a portrait, I’d suggest making some preliminary sketches. You’ll never do justice to my noble features by that cheesecloth memory of yours.”

“Sorry,” murmured his second-in-command sheepishly. “It’s just…”

Rodney tried to let the unfinished thought hang in the air, he really did. It simply wasn’t in his nature. It was like tapping out three-quarters of “Shave and a Haircut” to Roger Rabbit. He needed it to be finished. It was a temperamental imperative.

“What? It’s just what, Radek?” He snapped the fingers of his right hand urgently. His original right hand, that is.

As though freed from some invisible constraints, the Czech leaned forward with an excited expression. “Have you thought about how this development could change the way you work, Rodney?”

Snorting didn’t quite convey the depth of his disparagement, but it was the best Rodney could do with only one nose. With any luck, he wouldn’t be growing another one of those, because his allergies were already enough of a hassle. “Yes, thank you, I have spared a thought or two about how having a THIRD HAND will possibly impact my life.”

He emphasized this by waving both of his original hands, and boy, was he going to get tired of having to specify them in that way. In fact, how the hell was he going to know how to gesture from now on? Usually, it was an “a, b, or c” kind of choice - use the right hand, use the left, or use them both. The possible combinations were now more complicated, but while they weren’t hard to calculate (especially for a genius), they were certainly going to make the act of gesturing less intuitive and spontaneous.

“Oh wait, I meant to say that I’ve thought of nothing but how this will impact my life. Thanks for asking.”

“No, no, no,” Radek said impatiently, waving a hand with a casualness that earned him a glare he ignored effortlessly. “I’m talking about your work. Think of it.” He slid even more forward in his chair. Another burst of excitement and he’d fall right off the edge. “How often have we been engaged in study and bitterly acknowledged the need to have hands on the keyboard and on a device, or a console, or a second laptop, at the same time? Hmm?” When Rodney just stared at him, he tried a new approach. “What do you complain of at least three or four times a day?”

“The food.”

“Not that.”

“The coffee.”

“Not that either.”

“The other scientists being morons?”

“Yes, but no.”

“You being a moron?”

“Your hands, you insulting jackass!” Radek erupted as he stood up, apparently unaware of the irony of using insults to admonish Rodney for being insulting. “You complain that you have not enough hands to do your work efficiently. You say, ‘if I had another hand, I could type while I pushed buttons on this console. If I had another hand, I could activate Ancient device while also making notes.’ And my personal favorite, ‘If I had another hand, I wouldn’t need you, Radek.’”

A nurse had chosen this very moment to walk into their vicinity. Both men looked up to see her glaring at Rodney. “What?” he demanded, only to have her snort in self-righteous contempt, toss a look of sympathy in Radek’s direction, and walk away shaking her head. The lights came on in Rodney’s head. “No! Wait! He’s talking about in the lab! I wouldn’t need him in the lab if I had another…” But she was already out of earshot, and Rodney rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand.

His new one. He hadn’t even made a conscious decision to use it. Maybe gesturing could still be spontaneous after all.

Radek was gazing at the hand with considerable interest. Rodney turned it from side to side, showing it off. “Like it? It’s not quite as big as the other two, but I-”

“What about the… arm?” Radek was right beside the bed now, leaning over to investigate the appendage. “May I?”

Rodney’s new hand opened in a sign of generosity. “Sure.” As the engineer began to study the limb, Rodney filled him in while twisting and flexing for his friend’s benefit. “It’s not an arm in the strictest sense of the word. At least, not like my other two. Carson says it’s more like a-”

“Like a snake!” Radek said, grinning excitedly. “It has bones, but is flexible, not stiff like regular arm.”

“Exactly. And look! I can make an ‘S’ with it.”

“’S’ for snake.”

“I was thinking Superman, but perhaps for you, a one-syllable word works best.”

* * * * * * *

Sheppard looked up in surprise when a tray loaded far beyond safe capacity dropped onto the table next to his own. “Hey, shouldn’t you be out on the midway?”

“As always, your sensitivity boggles the mind, Colonel.” Rodney’s tone and expression belied his words. He looked positively chipper, which was a drastic change from his mood during Sheppard’s last visit. Digging into his lunch with gusto, he spoke around a mouthful. “Don’t look so shocked. Even the bearded lady gets a lunch break.”

“No, I’m just surprised Beckett released you, that’s all.”

Rodney shrugged. “All things considered, I’m healthy and able-bodied. No reason for the city to be denied my indispensable contributions to its continued existence and well-being.”

“You sure you’re... okay?” John made a vague gesture. “You know. To be… walking around and stuff?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well…” With a glance around the room, John leaned closer and lowered his voice. “It’s just that until now, you’ve seemed pretty upset about…” He made an eloquent motion with his head before continuing, “… the new addition.”

Rodney waved his left hand as he sought to swallow enough of the food in his mouth to permit speech. “Oh, that. Ancient history. I’m totally focused on the big picture now.”

“Which is what? If this physics thing doesn’t pan out, you always have a future as the new Bat Boy?”

“No, see, that was my mistake, too. Seeing this as… as a hideous, freakish thing. A liability, something to be reversed by any means possible. Now, I see it for what it really is: the logical, though stupidly ignored by nature, evolution of the human species.”

Sheppard prided himself on hiding his true intelligence by playing dumb.

“Huh?” he said.

Of course, sometimes he didn’t have to play.

Rodney took a large gulp of not-apple juice, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Look. The human body pretty much stopped evolving in significant ways a long time ago. Why? Because humans kept thinking their way into a safer, healthier existence. We keep changing, sure, but in subtler, less important ways. We basically got too smart and too much in control of our own living conditions.” Sheppard wasn’t at all convinced of the validity of Rodney’s interpretation of Darwin, but the scientist was on a roll and barreled right on. “Mutations, such as extra limbs, just don’t get rewarded by increased chances of survival, because such care is taken to ensure that everyone survives. Thus, we don’t see these mutations in increasing numbers, despite the fact that there are real, tangible benefits to having, say, an extra hand.”

The bottom of Rodney’s shirt bunched up suddenly as said extra hand appeared on cue, wiggling its fingers in John’s face.

“Gahhh!” was Sheppard’s reasoned response as he managed to not pull completely away from Rodney. He stared at the “arm.” “What the hell?”

“Yeah! Cool, huh?”

“It’s a fucking tentacle!”

“Don’t be stupid. There are no suckers on it, just the hand. It’s just like my other arms, except with flexible, jointed bones. See? It even has hair now.”

“Put that thing away.” Sheppard noted several stares ranging from curiosity to outright revulsion coming from all around them. His own personal reactions aside, he could see this turning into something just this side of ugly really quickly. When his eyes returned to Rodney’s face, he was startled by the shock and hurt he saw.

“Oh, my God. You’re… I repulse you now! You can’t stand to see my new limb. I’m a… I’m a monster in your eyes.”

“No, you’re not.” God, did his voice always sound so weak and without conviction?

“I am! I’m…” Rodney’s eyes zipped around as though looking for a suitable simile. He snapped the fingers of his (upper) right hand in triumph. “I’m like the three-eyed fish in The Simpsons. Deformed through no fault of my own, but repulsive just the same.”

“You’re not repulsive,” John said emphatically, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re not just saying-”

”Rodney.”

Both men slowly turned back to their meals.

“Although technically, your participation in the ritual was voluntary…”

Mouths could be such stupid things to have.

If Rodney had been anyone else, how his extra pudding cup managed to get dumped onto John’s lap while the scientist had two hands on the table would have been the stuff of brainteasers.

* * * * * * *

“Absolutely not,” said Carson.

“That’s right, don’t take even a few minutes to give it due consideration,” Rodney said caustically. “Just reject the idea out of hand! That’s what all great minds do. Oh wait…”

“I’m afraid I don’t need a few minutes, either,” Elizabeth told him. “The answer’s no.”

Frustrated, Rodney rolled his eyes and threw his two original hands into the air. “I can’t believe this! I’m surrounded by the ridiculously, criminally short-sighted.”

“Good strategy, McKay,” drawled Sheppard, seated beside Rodney at the conference table. “Insults are always a big aid to persuasion.”

“He can call me anythin’ he wants,” Carson growled. “As Chief Medical Officer, I’m never gonna approve sending anyone else to partake of that Ritual of Deformity-”

“It’s Rite of Enhancement!”

“-much less the entire science staff!”

“Neither will I,” Elizabeth confirmed, cutting off Rodney’s response with an upheld hand. “Even if they are willing, which I highly doubt.”

“Radek is seriously interested,” Rodney said indignantly, “as are several other key people. The rest would come around once it became clear just how big an advantage an extra arm really is.”

Carson shook his head slowly, staring at the scientist with a look of disgust. Rodney leaned back hard in his chair, its back squeaking in protest. All three of his arms were outstretched. “I’m not suggesting we force anyone, for God’s sake! Just that we let anyone do it who wants to. After a few weeks of watching us put our third hands to phenomenally productive use, I guarantee more people would be lining up in front of the gate to go take part in the ritual.”

Elizabeth exchanged a look of suppressed amusement with John, who snorted diplomatically. Beckett merely put a hand to his head, as though trying to soothe a stress-induced headache.

Rodney ignored it all. “I’ve been documenting my increased productivity,” he told them, displaying figures and graphs on the screen of his laptop. “Do you realize how many projects I’ve completed since I’ve been back on active duty? By my calculations, I’ve been almost twenty percent more efficient than I was before.”

“And you attribute it all to having an extra arm?” Elizabeth had given up trying to suppress her amusement.

“Yes! For the first time in my life, my body can almost keep up with my brain. I can enter data on the laptop while manipulating an object. I can use a tablet and my laptop simultaneously. I can eat and drink without taking a hand away from the work. And you wouldn’t believe the number of tasks I have handled by myself in the lab that would normally have required me to take Radek or someone else away from what they were doing just to lend a hand, literally. Therefore, my new appendage can truthfully be said to have increased the efficiency of the whole department.”

“Sounds like it’s the best thing that ever happened to you,” said John wryly.

“Well, I like to think it’s opened up new possibilities for me.”

“And we probably don’t want to hear about all of them,” John said innocently. “Seriously, though, Rodney, you’ve done a great job of turning this to your advantage in the lab. But you have to admit the new arm has its drawbacks in the field.”

His expression clearly screaming Et tu, Brute?, Rodney was momentarily taken aback. He regrouped quickly, however, holding up a finger. “One time. One time I forgot myself in front of a group of hysteria-prone backwards natives.”

“They tried to disembowel you as an abomination.”

“You guys stopped them. And in case I forgot to point it out, it was just. One. Time.”

“Yeah, well, it only takes one time for you or someone else on the team to get killed, McKay.”

Rodney underscored his rolling eyes with a wave of the new hand. John had overcome his initial revulsion at the sight of the creepily sinuous limb, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing it. He was careful to hide any signs of distaste, however; Rodney tended to interpret them as a rejection of him personally. Teyla had already been obliged to reassure Rodney with head-hugs on three separate occasions that while she was having trouble dealing with the new limb, she still accepted him.

“Anyway, there’s no further need for concern about my arm during missions, Colonel. I’ve been making a conscious effort to keep it out of sight when I’m off-world if outsiders are present.”

“I have to say,” Elizabeth said, eyes gleaming with interest, “I’m really amazed at how well you can hide it, Rodney. And at the way you’ve adapted your clothing to it.”

Rodney beamed. “It’s great, isn’t it? Radek and I designed these little flap-covered cross-cut slits, which are much more practical than sleeves would be, since the arm can be retracted.” Rodney demonstrated by making the arm disappear through the slot in his jacket, then thrusting it back out. John made the considerable effort to not look thoroughly squicked. “See, the extra fabric of a sleeve would only bunch up.”

“Amazing,” Elizabeth enthused. “I can’t believe there’s so little evidence of the arm when it’s retracted.”

“It’s really quite fascinatin’,” Carson said, finally warming to the topic. “Rodney’s internal organs have shifted slightly where necessary to create a kind of pouch for the arm and hand. It’s as though his body is aware that concealment is necessary and important.”

“Well,” Rodney said smugly, folding his two normal arms across his chest, “it is the body of a genius, after all.”

John really didn’t want any more conversation about Rodney’s organs, internal or otherwise. He pointedly glanced at his watch. “So, we done here or what? We do have a mission, you know.”

Elizabeth looked suitably abashed. “We’re done. Good luck, Colonel.”

Rodney was looking to make his case for the extra-arming of the science team one last time. “But-”

“Whine later. Mission now.”

John tried not to wince when Rodney closed his laptop without uncrossing his arms.

Rodney pouted aggressively until Radek met them in the corridor looking excited and carrying a tac vest. At the sight of him, Rodney’s mood perked up considerably. “It’s done?”

Radek nodded happily. “I told you it would be finished in time for mission today. Try it on! I need to verify the placement is correct.”

Rodney shucked his uniform jacket and handed it to Sheppard, who took it without complaint out of sheer curiosity. Radek helped McKay into the tac vest, and each of them beamed proudly when it was fastened. “So?” John said. “It’s a tac vest.”

“Ah, but this one’s been customized.” Rodney illustrated this point by suddenly shoving his extra hand through a slot that was definitely not part of the vest’s original design. “Oh, yeah, this is great! Perfect!”

“Originally, we used a Velcro closure,” Radek explained. “But when we tested it, we found-”

“We found that it was noisy as hell,” Rodney finished. “And since the general idea is to keep the arm a secret, I decided-”

“We decided.”

“Fine, we decided to remove the Velcro and instead rig the opening to look like another small pocket.”

“There are pockets everywhere already,” the Czech said, “so will not attract attention, yes?”

Rodney had been testing the opening all the while, shoving the hand and arm in and out of the slot, twisting and extending, his face slightly frowning. “We need to tweak this opening a bit, I think. When I reach upward, the side of it kind of rubs the skin.” The new fingers snapped. “Elastic. The slot’s edges should be made from elastic fabric. That would give comfort, silence, and freedom of movement.”

Radek looked concerned. “Shall I take it back and-”

“No, no, it’s fine for now. I’ll give it a field test on this mission, just to see what other little changes might be needed.”

“If you’re done walking the runway, Dr. Fashion Model, maybe you’d like to go gear up?” John had seen way more of the arm today than he liked, and his joke had more bite than he’d intended.

“Oh. Um, sure. I’ll just…” Rodney pointed in the direction he needed to go, then left with Radek in tow. The scientists continued to chatter busily about the vest design as they scurried off.

John was halfway to his own quarters when he realized he was still carrying McKay’s jacket.

* * * * * * *

“So how long do you think it will get?” Ronon asked.

They were hiking the considerable distance from the gate to the village the life signs detector had indicated, and Ronon and McKay had spent the whole time discussing the damned arm. John would have considered slapping the Satedan in the back with the butt of his P-90, except that Ronon would likely just kick his ass and continue the discussion in the next breath.

“I don’t know,” Rodney answered with plenty of bounce in his voice as well as his step. The arm was in constant motion, reaching out to tug a leaf from a bush as they passed, to slap at a low-hanging tree branch, or - most skin-crawlingly - to coil snakelike around a stem or trunk. “Carson’s been charting the rate of growth, and while it’s slowed way down in the last few days, it’s too early to know if it’s done growing for good.”

“McKay, could you give the tentacle a rest for a while? This isn’t exactly what I’d call keeping a low profile.”

Rodney managed to color a wounded look with indignation. The man was a facial virtuoso. “I checked the life signs detector when we started out. No indigenous people in the vicinity,” he huffed. “Besides, you’re always bugging me about exercising!”

“Yeah, and until Armzilla showed up, the only thing you’ve ever been remotely interested in exercising is your mouth.”

“John, that is not entirely fair,” Teyla said with a frown in her voice.

“Yeah,” Ronon chimed in. “How’s he s’posed to learn how to use it if he doesn’t try things out?” The big man had spoken while bending to the ground, grabbing a rock. He whirled suddenly, tossing it to Rodney. The scientist didn’t hesitate, catching it with his sinister snakehand.

Ronon grinned like a big kid. “Not bad.”

“Thanks.” Rodney’s expression was that of the nerd who had awakened that morning to find himself transformed into a jock, and loved it. He curled the arm and flexed the hand. “Works pretty well, doesn’t it?”

“If we had a mutants’ baseball team, you’d be a star,” John muttered. Teyla, who was bringing up the rear, kicked his heel, causing him to stutter-step. He tossed a glare over his shoulder but didn’t say anything, because she would likely just kick his ass, too.

Rodney shot him another huffy hurt look, but addressed Ronon. “I kinda hope it is done growing, actually. I don’t think I could easily conceal it if it got any bigger.”

“Thought your body was makin’ room inside?”

“Well, yes, but there’s only so much space in here, you know. It’s not like I can say, ‘hey, the arm needs more room - time to toss out this pesky intestine.’ And the pouch is already a little… cramped.”

“I guess that’s just the price ya gotta pay for being an evolution pioneer, McKay,” John said jovially. Well, he’d meant to say it jovially.

“I’m certain that your body will know when it needs to stop the arm’s growth, Rodney.” Teyla spoke as though John hadn’t, and with obvious concern and compassion. John rolled his eyes discreetly at that, because don’t think he hadn’t noticed that she was very careful to avoid looking at Rodney’s arm. She was projecting all this support and understanding, but she was just as creeped out as about this as he was.

“I certainly hope so, though with my luck? It’ll probably grow another half-meter, and I’ll be stuck with the appearance of having a spare tire when I’m actually in the best physical shape of my life. Where’s the justice? I ask you, how-”

All three of them stopped in their tracks when Ronon raised his hand to signal potential danger.

Sheppard moved up beside Ronon, who whispered, “Saw someone in those bushes.”

He pointed to a cluster of tall plants with red-tinged leaves. Sheppard watched them for several seconds, looking for signs of movement, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was Rodney’s new hand. “What?” Sheppard hissed.

“What’s going on? Why’d we stop?” Why a proven genius couldn’t seem to master the art of whispering was a question for the ages.

“Put. The arm. Inside.” Though spoken through gritted teeth, John’s message must have come through loud and clear, as Rodney retracted the arm immediately.

Turning their attention back to the bushes, John and Ronon approached them slowly, weapons raised. “Whoever’s in there, come on out. We’re here seeking peaceful trade, but we can defend ourselves, so why don’t we all just meet face to face and talk?”

There was silence for long enough that Sheppard was starting to think Ronon had been mistaken, but finally one of the bushes stirred. A young girl, probably in her late teens, sidled out, looking frightened… and, of course, quite beautiful. They always were in this galaxy.

“Wh… who are you?”

“I’m Lt. Colonel John Sheppard; this is Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagen, and Rodney McKay.” He’d deliberately left off the “doctor.”

The girl brushed a strand of white-blonde hair from her eyes, still looking spooked. “What are you?”

The team exchanged looks that were inexplicably guilty. They always seemed to feel a little on the wrong side of things in these situations. It really wasn’t fair. They were the good guys. “We’re… people.” John flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Just like you.”

“Just like me,” the girl repeated doubtfully.

“Yes, that’s right, just like you, more or less,” Rodney said. “I mean, with certain minor but significant differences, of course, but utterly normal, every one, our entire team.”

“Shut up, Rodney.” Gritted teeth again. Having McKay on his team was going to drive John to dentures. Smiling again at the girl, he said, “Anyway, we’re only here to make friends.”

When the girl still looked dubious, Teyla stepped forward with her air of quiet dignity and compassion. The girl visibly relaxed. “We are looking for trading partners and allies,” Teyla said with a smile. “We have things to offer that many people need. Perhaps you could take us to your people so we could discuss possible terms of trade?”

“I… I suppose I could.” The girl flashed a tentative smile.

“Great!” Rodney said, clapping his two normal hands together briskly. “Just lead the way, then.” Catching a scathing look from his team leader, he wilted just a bit. “That is, if that’s what you, uh, want us to do?”

Heaving a sigh, John smiled and nodded at the girl to proceed. He wondered - just idly, of course - how hard it would be for someone - you know, theoretically - to break Rodney’s new arm.

* * * * * * *

They walked with the girl (Rodney learned that her name was Nyra, thanks to Sheppard’s shameless Kirking) for another forty-five minutes, finally reaching her village. It wasn’t a lot different from the many barely civilized settlements they’d encountered in several years of gating around Pegasus; simple but functional houses, simple but modest clothing, simple but harmless villagers.

Of course, Rodney regarded “simple” as a synonym of “boring” and “not worth his valuable time,” but Sheppard’s constant glaring had forced him to stop heaving an impatient sigh every three or four minutes or so. He’d found he could get away with it about every thirteen minutes, but most of the satisfaction was lost in an interval that large.

It hadn’t taken much inquiry or scanning to realize that there was nothing of technological interest lying about, but Teyla insisted on continuing to talk to them about their foods and medicines and whatnot, so chances were they were going to be stuck in Boringburg for quite some time yet. Rodney tried to slip away into the nearby woods to practice using the arm - in complete and utter privacy, of course - but Sheppard had apparently ordered Ronon to keep that from happening, because the human behemoth kept heading him off like a two-legged sheepdog with knives hidden in its fur.

So he was reduced to wandering around the “main drag,” carefully within sight of his Cro-Magnon teammate, staring at nothing and listening to the internal rant he was composing regarding useless missions that wasted his time and talents, and team leaders with an unreasonable prejudice against pentropods. This is probably why he didn’t notice the man who stepped out of the largest of the village’s buildings, despite his robe-clad four-man entourage and the fact that they made a beeline for Rodney’s position.

Ronon, fortunately, did notice them. The scientist only became aware when the large shadow of the Satedan fell next to his on the dusty ground, and a low voice growled, “That’s close enough.”

The leader of the little group, a heavy man with thinning gray hair, gazed up at Ronon without fear, thus providing concrete proof that “simple” was also a synonym for “none too bright.”

“Worry not, friend,” the heavy guy said. “We mean no harm. We wish only to speak with the Benefactor.” Here the speaker beamed at Rodney. The rest of the entourage was already staring raptly at the scientist.

Momentarily at a loss, Rodney looked to Ronon, who offered no input but maintained a subtly defensive posture. Turning his eyes back to the older guy, Rodney raised a hand in a small wave. “Um… hi. Rodney McKay. Doctor Rodney McKay.”

A little thrill passed through the entourage, which was as creepy as it was flattering, which struck him as incredibly unfair. “Is there something I can help you with?” In truth, he wasn’t really feeling all that magnanimous; he just couldn’t think of another way to get to the bottom of what they wanted, short of demanding “What do you want?”, which would probably get him glared at by Sheppard and Teyla.

Heavy Thinning Gray-Hair Guy beamed some more. “More than you know, good sir. More than you can possibly know.”

“Oh, I rather doubt that,” Rodney said with a grin. Other people often called it a smirk, but what did they know? “I actually tend to know more than people expect. Know more than most other people period, in fact.” Ronon flashed him that look of his that said either, you are so full of shit, or I can bench-press a rhino. Whichever it was, Rodney chose to ignore it.

More smiles were passed around his little band of groupies. “Good Benefactor,” continued heavy guy, “your arrival in our village has been a source of great anticipation for many rotations. We have offered many prayers that your arrival might be imminent.”

“Ah,” said Rodney, a little at a loss for words, which in itself was rather disturbing. “Well, that’s… nice. Very, very… nice. Glad I was able to, um, you know… make those prayers come true.” He wasn’t too sure what to make of this Benefactor business, but for all he knew, that’s the word this culture used for “genius.” Why they would have a prophesy for the arrival of a genius was beyond him, but who knew? Maybe he was destined to introduce them to the concept of mathematics, or astronomy, or something. That wouldn’t be too bad, actually, being the catalyst for the intellectual Renaissance of an entire culture.

“Then we are correct? You truly are the Benefactor?”

Hmm. Tricky question, that, since a) he didn’t know what a Benefactor was supposed to be, and b) he didn’t know how they’d concluded that he was one. Still, wouldn’t do to deny it, since for all he knew, it could be true.

“Well… you’d know that better than I, wouldn’t you?” The silence and the slowly dimming smiles clued him in to the fact that this was definitely not the expected answer. “That is… I mean… well, uh, surely you have some sort of, um, I don’t know… a test? To prove someone’s Benefactoriness, I mean?”

Ronon frowned, apparently not liking the sound of that, but the groupies were smiling again, so Rodney figured he’d come out ahead. Well, maybe it was a wash, but it was still better than being chased out of town with poisoned darts, so he was willing to declare the glass half full.

“Yes, of course. Please, forgive my forgetfulness,” heavy guy said quickly, turning to one of his entourage. He accepted something from him, then turned back toward Rodney, holding a wooden box. He presented it to Rodney.

Immediately, Ronon’s impressive arm was between Rodney and the box.

“You misunderstand, good sir,” the heavy guy hastened to say. “We mean no threat. We offer this as a gift to the Benefactor.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Ronon,” Rodney said, figuring it was about time he took charge of this situation. Pushing past his teammate’s arm, he held out his hands. “I’m happy to accept your offering.”

The box was heavier than he’d expected. Holding it took both hands, and he had no time to wonder what to do next, as the older man had lifted the lid. Inside was what appeared to be a ball, about the size of a softball, made of the same wood as the box. Without asking permission, Ronon reached for the ball, holding it up in front of his face to examine it. When he was satisfied that it presented no visible threat, he shrugged and started to hand it to McKay.

“No, no, good sir,” the heavy man said. “That is for us.”

Frowning in puzzlement, Ronon looked to Rodney, who answered with a shrug. He’d asked for a test, after all, and he had no idea what to do with the ball. His teammate placed the ball into the heavy man’s outstretched hand.

The entire band of groupies then began to back away, much to Rodney’s surprise. They stopped when they were about five feet away. The heavy man smiled at Rodney… just before chucking the wooden ball right at his face.

Ronon’s reaction time was as prodigious as everything else about him. He caught the ball before it could hit Rodney, held it a moment, then flung it angrily at the ground. He had taken two steps towards the group before he apparently noticed the widened eyes that were focused not at him, but at Rodney.

Rodney, who was standing there holding the box in his two hands… and shielding his face with the third.

* * * * * * *

It was exactly like that time he’d forgotten himself on that other planet and shown his third arm. There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by an eruption of excited talking and motion. People began pouring out of the primitive buildings, dashing around, shouting, waving their arms. The groupies had taken Rodney by the arms (all of them) and dragged him toward what must be the town square.

Well, there was one difference between these incidents: this time, the people were happy to see the third arm. Thrilled, even. Practically ecstatic.

The heavy guy had been babbling about how they’d been waiting for this for so long, and what an honor it was that he’d chosen their village, and what a great day this was for his people. Ronon looked as though he felt he should be doing something, but couldn’t figure out how to protect his teammate from joyous adulation.

At the order of the heavy guy, the crowd began to back off a little, giving the Benefactor some space. It was then that he saw Sheppard pushing his way through the crowd, followed closely by Teyla. “McKay, what’s going on?” He stared meaningfully at the third arm, which was still visible.

“It’s okay,” Rodney hastened to assure him. “They like it.”

There was murder in Sheppard’s eyes, which Rodney had seen before, but hated when it was directed toward him. “Great, they like it. How did they find out about it?”

“Hey, don’t blame me! They tricked me into showing it.”

Teyla frowned doubtfully. “Tricked you? How? Why would they do that?”

“How would they know to do that?” Sheppard added.

“I dunno,” Ronon said, “but he’s right. They called it a test, gave him something heavy to hold, then threw a ball at his face.”

While an accurate summary of events, this statement fell short of providing real illumination. Sheppard looked as though there were too many questions bumping around in his brain, competing for asking time. Rodney decided a timely distraction was in order. “So, how go the negotiations?”

Sheppard glared at him. “It was the darnedest thing. We were making great progress on a trade agreement when someone ran in and screamed that the ‘Benefactor’ had arrived. Suddenly, the town elders were no longer interested in our medicines and technology.”

“Really? That’s weird. It’s not like I told them to do that.”

Whenever Sheppard was furious and had no suitable outlet for it, his eyes got this bulgy look like they were about to explode. Rodney wondered if he knew about it, and if it was maybe a blood pressure thing. He should probably mention it to Carson when they got back.

“Why would you be telling them to do anything, McKay? What they hell have you done?”

But heavy guy was back, this time with a bunch of other old guys that had earlier been identified as the village elders. They were all gazing at Rodney with reverence. It was nice to finally get his due, but how unfair that he’d had to grow a third arm to get it. Just more evidence of the basic inequity of life, he supposed.

Flanked by the elders, heavy guy guided Rodney onto a raised platform in the square and addressed the crowd. “My people, as you can see, this is a joyous day for our village. Our prayers have been answered, and the Benefactor has arrived!”

Cheers erupted from the gathered mass. Sheppard climbed onto the platform to speak to the older man, but one of the elders urged him to be silent, for which Rodney was very grateful. He was finally being accorded the tribute he deserved, and he didn’t want it interrupted, especially by an unappreciative team leader. Heavy guy continued.

“Our long time of bad fortune is at an end, good people. Now, our harvests will once again be bountiful, our fresh water plentiful, and our women fertile!”

Rodney felt his smile freezing on his face. Granted, his was a powerful mind, but even his abilities had certain limitations. Sheppard’s voice was low in his ear. “I buy that you could probably help them with their crops and water, but I had no idea your interest in women was so… clinical.”

Because he’d turned his head to deliver a crippling retort, Rodney almost missed seeing Nyra and another girl approaching the platform. Each carried cloth-draped objects, which they presented to the heavy guy. One object was placed on the platform, just between the heavy guy’s feet and Rodney’s. When the cloth was removed, Rodney saw it was a large, ornate wooden bowl.

Well, okay. It didn’t exactly bowl him over (heh heh), but as gifts went, it was probably the best these people had to offer. He smiled at the crowd benevolently. He could probably find a use for the bowl. Maybe to hold his candy stash.

“Today,” intoned the heavy guy, “through the generous gift of the Benefactor, our days of need and want are at an end!”

Gift? He’d expected to offer them the benefit of his phenomenal brain, which, let’s be honest, far surpassed anything material. Still, perhaps the ceremonial nature of the occasion required a symbolic physical exchange. He began to pat the pockets of his BDUs for something suitable.

“Uh… McKa-a-ay…” Sheppard said, his tone bringing Rodney’s attention back to what was happening on the platform. “I’m not liking the looks of this…”

Heavy guy had undraped the second bundle. It was a large… strike that, it was a VERY large, very sharp-looking machete-like knife.

“Uh, that’s, um, that’s great. Very, very nice, really.” Rodney reached out for the offering reluctantly. He really didn’t like bladed weapons, even as gifts. Maybe especially as gifts.

But the heavy guy - had he ever introduced himself? Rodney had a tendency to forget names - merely looked surprised, then laughed. “The Benefactor jokes, of course. Now, good sir, if you will extend the Arm of Giving…”

“Arm of giv…” Rodney looked at the knife, looked at his new arm, looked at the bowl sitting on the platform between them… and understood. The genius had finally put two and two together. “Ah, no. No, I don’t think I’m up for a blood donation today. Maybe on the next trip. We’ll even bring our own exsanguination supplies, including sterile needles, and vials for holding my precious-”

“Wrap it up, McKay,” Sheppard said through his teeth. The man’s mouth had to be a dental nightmare.

Speaking of teeth, there were a whole lot fewer smiles in evidence all around them now. Heavy guy was practically pouting. “But… but Benefactor. It is your purpose. The prophesy states-”

“If the prophesy states that my purpose is to bleed out on a dusty platform into a glorified salad bowl, then I’d say you need to be a little more careful where you get your prognostications.”

“The prophesy states that the blood of the Benefactor will cure all that ails a people!” Turned out that heavy guy was as fluent in scowling as he was in beaming. “You are bound by the prophesy to give us your blood!”

“Still using it! Sorry!” Trying to back away, Rodney found all three of his arms being held by the surrounding elders.

“Time to say our goodbyes,” Sheppard shouted. He and Teyla freed the scientist from the elders (which wasn’t really all that impressive a feat, because hello! They were elders!) and shoved Rodney off the platform into Ronon’s protective arms. Sheppard and Teyla followed, and the fight was on.

* * * * * * *

Rodney was great at lots of things, Sheppard would admit, but hand-to-hand combat had never been one of them.

At hand-to-hand-to-hand combat, things were just a little different.

While the scientist’s punches still lacked, well, punch, and he didn’t really have the necessary killer instinct for good fighting, his new arm and hand did give him the edge, because people are simply not used to having to look out for the third fist. Rodney used that to good advantage as they slowly plowed through the angry mob - sucker-punching, pulling hair, whatever it took to free himself from one attacker and move on to the next.

The challenge for the rest of the team was to extricate themselves without doing too much damage to the natives. Several times Sheppard had to remind Ronon to ease up and not really hurt anybody, a practice he abandoned when someone broke a piece of pottery over his head.

To the villagers’ credit, they were both smart enough to back off when Sheppard fired his P-90 into the air a few times, and committed enough to pursue them as the team bolted into the woods. Of course, since they truly believed that the survival of their people rested on obtaining the Rodney’s blood, it wasn’t that surprising.

When he figured they finally had enough lead time, Sheppard halted their retreat for the purpose of determining where the gate was relative to their position. After a little discussion and plenty of arguing, a path was chosen.

“What I wanna know is,” Sheppard said as they continued through the woods, “where did this prophesy thing even come from? It’s too much of a coincidence that we’d show up with Three-Arm McKay in a village where they just happen to have a prophesy about a three-armed savior.”

“Yes, I’ve been giving that some thought myself,” Rodney answered. John rolled his eyes. Who else could find the time to work out a mystery in his head while fighting to escape a bloodthirsty crowd? “This place was on the list the Rebharans gave us, right?”

“Yes,” Teyla agreed. “The list of their trading partners. They guaranteed us a friendly reception.”

“They’ve got a strange idea of friendliness,” Ronon growled.

“Well, there you have it, then.”

When Rodney didn’t elaborate, John sighed. “There we have what?”

“Oh, sorry. Thought it was obvious.” Rodney went into lowering-himself-to-the-moron-level mode. “The Rebharans have this method of growing a third arm, however that came about. For whatever reason, they choose not to use this to benefit their own productivity. Instead, they trick unwitting visitors into the Rite of Enhancement. Meanwhile, they’ve been spreading this ‘Benefactor’ malarkey to all their trading partners, probably extracting highly favorable terms in exchange for doing what they can to help the others be ‘chosen’ for an up-close-and-personal with the Benefactor.”

Sheppard closed his eyes. “Then they hand their Enhancement victims a list of ‘guaranteed friendly’ trading partners and…”

“And the blood flows like wine, which is just one more reason to dislike merlot, in my opinion. Presumably, of course, most Benefactors aren’t blessed with the mental wherewithal to escape from the collection ceremony.”

“Right, because your mental wherewithal is what got you out of their clutches and safely out of the village.”

“Whatever. The point is-”

“Here!” screamed a voice not far away. “I’ve found them!”

“Move!” shouted Sheppard, and their pace became more frantic.

A leisurely hike through the woods is a much different thing from a no-holds-barred frenzied dash with your life on the line. There’s just no time to look for hazards like uneven ground, exposed tree roots, hidden rocks, etc. It was the kind of treacherous terrain that had a Rodney McKay accident written all over.

Which was why Sheppard was so surprised to find himself facedown in the leaves and dirt, blood gushing from his nose after striking a fallen tree branch. He was even more surprised to learn that he couldn’t put weight on his right ankle.

“Get up!” screeched McKay. “Come on, are you trying to get us caught? These people want to drain my blood, in case you’ve forgotten!”

Ronon helped Sheppard to his feet and started to put an arm under his shoulders to support him. “No,” John said, wiping his bloody nose. “We need you to protect our six. I can manage on my own.”

“You cannot walk, John,” Teyla declared. “I will help you.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” snorted Rodney. “Here. Lean on me, and try not to step on my feet, will you?”

Suddenly, Rodney’s right arm was under John’s shoulders. Sheppard was okay with this… until the third arm coiled around his waist. “I don’t think-”

“That’s right, and no point in starting now,” Rodney interrupted.

It was awkward and bumpy progress they made, with Ronon and Teyla doing fend-off-the-hostile-villagers duty and Rodney trying to beat his own record for complaints per minute while ensuring that the two of them hit every single hole and obstacle in their path. Sheppard was pretty sure that he’d had smoother rides in Humvees fleeing enemy fire. But he had to admit, Rodney’s grip never slackened, even when they ran right to the edge of the ravine they didn’t know was there. Not even when they went over the edge.

This was how John found himself dangling from Rodney’s new arm, suspended a good thirty or forty feet over a rocky bottom. The coil of the arm almost made a complete circle around his rib cage, and John could feel the strain it must be on Rodney in the faint trembling in the limb. He scrabbled with hands and his good foot, looking for holds on the crumbling side of the ravine.

“Will you stop jerking?” Rodney demanded shrilly. “I can’t hold onto you!”

The scientist was holding onto something at the top of the cliff with his left hand. His right hand - the original one - was desperately grasping for another hold, but just kept tearing dirt clumps out of the wall.

“Okay, let’s calm down,” John said, trying to sound composed and in control, because Rodney was breathing way too hard and fast, and hyperventilation would not make this predicament better. At that moment, his good left foot found a tenuous hold in the dirt wall. It wasn’t much but it allowed him to take a little weight off Rodney’s straining arm.

“Yes, yes, of course, calm down. I’ll do that, just as soon as my feet are on the ground and I don’t have two lives in my hands!”

“The fall wouldn’t kill us,” Sheppard said, hoping he sounded confident despite his breathlessness. There was little doubt in his mind that the jagged rocks beneath them would do a serious number on their bodies even if they survived. “Okay, here’s the plan: I’m gonna work on getting a grip on the wall.”

“No! I can’t hold on if you move too much!”

“I won’t move too much.” It then occurred to him to ask, “Uh, what are you holding on to up there?”

“What? Who cares? It’s, I don’t know, a root. A tree root or something. And by the way, my left hand is killing me! I can’t hold on forever.”

“Good, because I don’t plan on hanging around like this forever.”

“Look, m-my new arm, it’s starting to get tired.”

“Try giving me your free hand. Maybe I can-”

He broke off as Rodney’s free hand was already reaching toward him. The snakearm was trembling harder now, so John was heavily motivated as he stretched his own hand upward…

The hold beneath his left foot gave way without warning, and Sheppard’s fingertips just brushed with Rodney’s outstretched right hand as he dropped. It wasn’t much of a fall, since the snakearm was still around him, but his ribs protested fiercely.

So did Rodney. As John’s brief fall came to a stop, the scientist gave a strangled cry.

“You okay, buddy?” From the sound his friend had made, it was a stupid question, but John needed to know the exact situation.

“Oh, GOD! I…it… oh, yeah. I’m pretty sure my arm came out of its socket. If it has a socket; I’m not even sure if that’s what it’s called. Should’ve asked Carson. He-”

“Rodney, focus! I think I can-“

“Sheppard!” Terror made Rodney’s voice reedy, thin. “I’m losing you!”

Sheppard felt himself slipping in the snakearm and wrapped his own arms around it. Even if Rodney couldn’t hold him, maybe he could hang on.

Rodney whimpered as the pull on his “socket” apparently increased.

“I’m sorry!” John said.

“Oh God, it hurts! I can’t… I can’t…”

Ronon poked his head over the edge, his hands firmly gripping Rodney’s left wrist at the top of the cliff. “You guys need a hand?”

John couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. He was sure that wasn’t a touch of hysteria he heard in his voice.

“It’s about time!” wheezed Rodney. “Where’ve you been? We’re facing death here. Death by ravine. Coulda been ugly, very ugly. And my arm is shredded. Totally destroyed. There’s pain, you know. A lot of it.”

The scientist was still babbling breathlessly as he lay on his back in the dirt once their teammates had hauled them up over the side.

“Report,” John gasped. No one was actually listening to Rodney now anyway, including Rodney… with the possible exception of Teyla, who knelt beside him and stroked his new hand. Rodney seemed unable to retract the arm.

“Think we convinced the villagers to go home,” Ronon said.

“Good,” croaked his team leader. “I say we do the same.”

* * * * * * *

“So the gist of it is, the Rebharans set us up?” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed in an unusual display of anger. John liked seeing that happen once in a while; made him feel like less of a hothead himself.

“Looks like. Probably not just us, either. I’m thinking a return trip might not be a bad idea, after all. Minus the science staff, of course.”

She smirked. “We’ll discuss that when we’ve all had time to calm down.”

John forgot what he was going to say in response when he saw Carson approaching them. “How’s Rodney? How’s his arm?” From the doctor’s expression, he could tell the news wasn’t good.

Carson sighed. “There was significant tearing, Colonel. It was bloody close to being detached internally.”

A little twinge of nausea combined with a major twinge of guilt. For all that Rodney’s tentacle-arm had made him uneasy, he certainly hadn’t wanted to cause it damage… or Rodney pain. “But you can fix it, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

“The damage is that extensive?” Elizabeth asked, clearly shocked.

“It’s bloody strange, Elizabeth. It looks like there was already deterioration, even before the accident. There’s evidence that the arm is, for lack of a better word, disintegrating.”

Frowning, Sheppard asked, “You think that the arm was gonna… what? Fall off on its own?”

“It’s hard to say. With the damage from today’s activities, it’s difficult to tell how long the arm would have remained functional. But yes, my conclusion is that it was always going to be temporary.”

* * * * * * *

Rodney hated to be stared at, especially when he was asleep. So when he woke up from his nap to see Sheppard grinning at him from his bedside, he was less than charmed.

“Having fun? What, was I drooling onto the pillowcase?”

“That’s what makes you such a hot social commodity, McKay - your sparkling personality,” the colonel said, turning up the smirkitude several notches. Rolling his eyes, Rodney grunted painfully as he tried to shift in the bed. He’d forgotten that the new arm was out of commission, and trying to use it had hurt.

Sheppard was standing now, balancing on his uninjured ankle, helping him into a more comfortable position. “How’re you feeling?”

“You mean, compared to someone who isn’t about to lose an arm?”

Clearing his throat, Sheppard had the grace to look a little ashamed. Satisfied, Rodney snapped his fingers and pointed to the pitcher of water on the nearby tray table. He could have reached it himself, but Sheppard obliged anyway and poured him a cup.

Taking a sip, Rodney asked, “How’s the ankle?”

Sheppard shrugged. “Severe sprain. A few days on crutches and it should be fine.”

There was a pause, which Sheppard broke by taking a deep breath.

“Don’t,” Rodney said firmly.

“Don’t what? Breathe?”

“Don’t say what you were about to say. It will only embarrass both of us.”

“No, it won’t!”

“Yes, yes it will.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Of course I do. You were a total ass about my arm, and then I used it to save your life, at considerable risk and pain to myself I might add, and now that I’m about to lose it, you feel like a jerk, which, of course, you are, and want to make it up to me somehow.”

Sheppard stared at him. “I’m not seeing how that embarrassed you.”

Rodney considered. “You’re right, it didn’t. It was just you.”

“Hmm. Well, glad I got that off my chest.” He stood up and reached for his crutches. “Just one thing, though, McKay.”

“Yes?”

Leaning forward a bit, Sheppard whispered, “I’m not embarrassed.”

Rodney raised his eyebrows slightly. “Oh. No? Well. Then… then I accept your apology, Colonel.”

“Great.” For some reason, he didn’t leave yet. Instead, he looked at the bandaged arm. “So… does it hurt?”

“Only when I try to move it.”

“Well, then don’t try to move it.”

“Oh, what novel advice. I’ll be sure to give that a try.” When Sheppard still didn’t leave, Rodney added, “You know, I do hate to lose it. It really did make some things easier, having another hand.”

“Well, you know what they say about things falling off if you…” He made a gesture so vague as to be eloquent in spite of itself.

Rodney opened his mouth in shock, but decided to speak as long as it was open. “You… you are positively juvenile, you know that?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who’s losing an arm to illicit pleasures.”

“Go away. Go sexually harass Elizabeth. She’s able-bodied enough to kick your ass.”

“Fine. I’ll bring you dinner later on.”

“Don’t forget the extra dessert.”

Sheppard took a few steps, stopped, and looked over his shoulder. “Um, Rodney? About the arm, um… Did you? Did you ever use it to…” He trailed off suggestively.

Rodney opened his mouth, ready to make a full disclosure. Sheppard was at attention (unusual for him), breathless with anticipation. After a brief hesitation, Rodney reached for his laptop. “It really doesn’t matter, Colonel. I prefer to keep the upper hand."