SGA Fic: Truth in Action (2/2)
Title: Truth in Action
Author: tridget
Back to Chapter One
Truth in Action
Chapter Two
Why do nurses interrupt a perfectly good rest to make sure you’re doing okay? It makes no sense, Rodney grumbled to himself when he woke to find a nurse checking his vital signs.
The nurse had already moved on when Rodney thought to question why he was in the infirmary. He had a vague memory of standing in the infirmary doorway, feeling like crap, but not much beyond that. Rodney glanced at his watch. 5:40 a.m. He had a nagging feeling he was supposed to be somewhere. He dozed for a few minutes before it hit him - puddlejumper instruction, probably his last session. It would certainly be his last one if he didn’t show up. Rodney swung his legs off the bed, noting with relief that the dizziness had lessened, although his head had a stuffed-with-cotton feeling. A tug on his arm as he tried to shuffle away from the bed informed Rodney that he had acquired an I.V. at some point. He couldn’t think why. Probably he didn’t need it. Since the nurse was no longer in the room, no one noticed when Rodney pulled it out. No one noticed when he changed back into his uniform, which was still lying tossed across a nearby chair. No one noticed when he headed off to the Jumper Bay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lorne wasn’t in the Jumper Bay. He and his team had to make an unscheduled off-world trip. However, Lorne left a note for Rodney about his absence. Rodney was unsure what to do next. He couldn’t seem to pull together an alternate plan. Snippets of thoughts floated around in his head, vague and unsubstantial. He wandered into a jumper and sat down to think.
After a few minutes, it came to Rodney that he was supposed to be flying to the mainland. His anxiety level ratcheted up a few notches when he realized he was five minutes late in leaving. Being late wasn’t good. He powered up the jumper and took off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once he was in the air, confusion crept in again. Rodney couldn’t recall why he was flying to the mainland. He pivoted on his seat to ask Sheppard about the mission, but discovered with a panic that there was no one in the jumper with him. His heart rate soared.
Rodney began to feel that the jumper was tilting and rolling from side to side. He tried dialing up the inertial dampeners, but that didn’t seem to do the trick. A glance at the HUD told Rodney his course was about as straight as he usually flew, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. He had thought motion sickness aboard a jumper was impossible, but he really wished he had some Dramamine with him now.
After a haphazard check of the main systems, Rodney concluded that the HUD was malfunctioning. He fought to correct his course, but couldn’t stop the rolling motion. The more he corrected his course, the more erratic the flight path on the HUD became. The display now showed a rather dizzying path - just not the same one his vestibular system told him he was taking. He fought another wave of nausea as dark spots started to dance in front of his eyes again.
A voice called over the radio, startling Rodney. “Jumper Four, this is Atlantis. Do you copy?”
“Atlantis?” Rodney keyed the jumper’s radio. Maybe someone on Atlantis would know what to do. “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” he yelled.
“Jumper Four, what is the nature of the emergency?”
Confusion washed over Rodney completley. “I-I don’t know.” He gripped the panel in front of him, perceiving the jumper to tilt and roll wildly again. His stomach lurched as he glanced around the ship. “I think...I think the pilot is missing.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John had just finished showering and dressing after his morning run with Ronon when he hooked his radio around his ear. Immediately, it crackled to life with the kind of rapid-fire chatter from multiple sources that usually spelled imminent disaster. A tight knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he tapped his headset. “Sheppard here. What’s happening?”
The control room responded instantly. “Sir, we’re tracking a jumper on a course for the mainland. The pilot appears to be experiencing difficulty with flight control.”
Sheppard was already out of his quarters and running down the hall by the time the message ended. “On my way.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sheppard skidded to a halt in the control room. A quick glance at the view screen showed an unstable flight path that seemed to consist of several corkscrew maneuvers.
“Who’s in the jumper?” Sheppard demanded as he moved quickly to sit at one of the control consoles.
Chuck’s fingers flew over his keyboard. “Not sure, sir. This is Major Lorne’s usual morning flight.”
“Lorne’s off-world.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then who-”
“We don’t know, but the last transmission we received before contact was cut off said that the pilot was missing.”
“Doctor McKay usually accompanies Major Lorne in the morning,” another technician offered.
“What? Why were they-”
“Sir, I think we’ve reestablished contact.”
“Jumper Four, this is Colonel Sheppard-”
“Colonel? Thank God. I-I-I don’t know what’s wrong with the jumper. I keep dialing up the inertial dampeners and it’s still spinning. It won’t fly straight. And I thought you were supposed to be here, but then I remembered it was Lorne and...and I can’t find him either. It’s just me here and I’m not good at flying.” McKay’s voice, clearly panicked, was starting to slur. “I don’t feel good.”
“Get a rescue jumper with a medical team on standby,” John ordered as a million and one questions about the situation flew through his mind. But he knew his sole focus had to be on the safety of the jumper and its occupant. The questions could be answered later. “Rodney, calm down. Listen to me. I’m going to help you. You have to follow my instructions.”
“Sh-Sheppard?” Rodney’s voice was weak. “I don’t wanna fly this thing anymore.”
“Okay. That’s okay, Rodney. You just have to hang in there a little while longer. I’m gonna help you through this.”
“Sir, the medical team is on its way. Also the infirmary is reporting that Doctor McKay is missing.”
Just then, Carson burst into the conversation.
“Bloody hell. I just heard Rodney’s out there in a jumper. He collapsed and was admitted to the infirmary just after four a.m. suffering from hypoglycemia and exhaustion. He’s likely to be confused and disoriented. I doubt he’s in any condition to fly.”
John processed that information while his mind ran through various possible rescue scenarios. “If I can get him to turn around, can we bring him back on autopilot?” John asked Chuck.
“Negative. He’s too far away now. He’d have to be closer to Atlantis. Even if he did fly back, there’s a risk he’d hit one of the outlying structures before the autopilot kicked in.”
The jumper dot careened across the view screen.
“McKay, listen to me. You have to focus on flying in a straight line.”
“I’m dizzy,” McKay moaned.
“I know that. Don’t look at the HUD and try not to think about how the flight feels. Just think about a straight line-”
Carson interjected, a bit out of breath from his run to the Jumper Bay. “I don’t think he’s going to stay conscious much longer. You have to get him down. And see if he has any food with him. He needs to eat something.”
John nodded grimly to himself. The rescue options were narrowing by the second.
“Rodney,” John called out, “you need to eat. Do you have any food with you?”
“I can’t eat.” Rodney breathed in short gasps. “I feel sick... I... I... Oh, crap,” Rodney groaned.
The radio transmission from the jumper was shut off again.
“McKay? McKay, turn your radio back on!”
There was no response.
“Sir, there’s a clearing here on the mainland that might make a...a suitable landing spot.” Chuck was wise enough not to refer to the point on his map as a crash site. “It’s near his current flight path.”
John glanced at the map and began relaying information to the jumper’s computer. “Is he still receiving our transmissions?”
“Yes.”
“McKay, I know you can hear me. You’re going to have to land the jumper. I’m going to talk you through the landing procedure.” John forced himself to speak in a calm, steady manner. “We’re transmitting the coordinates for a landing site now. I want you to focus on heading toward that location.”
After a tense minute, the course of the jumper shifted slightly.
“That’s good,” John acknowledged. “But you’re going to have to slow down and level off.”
The radio transmission was turned on again. “That’s too much to think all at once.” McKay’s voice was hoarse now.
“McKay, you’re a genius. You can do it. Just focus for a little longer.”
No response.
“McKay!”
“What? What am I supposed to focus on?”
John scrubbed his face with his hands for a second. “Rodney, slow down. Can you do that? Just slow down.”
The jumper slowed somewhat but the flight wavered off course.
“Okay. That’s slower. Now, focus again on the location we sent you.”
“What location? Where’s Lorne? He’s supposed to take over for the landings.”
“Lorne isn’t here right now. You have to land the jumper.”
“I can’t. My head hurts. I can’t land a jumper.”
“Sir, the rescue team and medical personnel are now standing by in the Jumper Bay.”
The jumper entered a steep descent.
John leaned over the console in the control room, his knuckles white where he gripped the panel. “McKay? McKay! Answer me, dammit!”
There was no response, but a look at the jumper’s trajectory on the view screen told John all he needed to know. “McKay! Pull up! For God’s sake, pull up!”
Then the dot of light that was the jumper hit the ground...and winked out.
For a second, John felt as though he’d slammed into the ground himself. Then he took off at a run for the Jumper Bay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes awareness comes back gradually. For Rodney, it came back in fits and starts, like a series of snapshots in time.
Excruciating pain.
The smell of fried circuitry.
The taste of blood.
A man’s voice, breathless and cracking. “Oh, God, Rodney…” And another voice, stern and accented. “Colonel, move out of the way and let my team work.”
Haziness. Floating.
Pain, again. And again. And…
Small, soft hands. They were warm when they held his hand and cool when they stroked his aching head.
Nausea. Sometimes unrelenting. Sometimes hitting intensely without warning. Moaning and retching and the acrid burn of bile.
A squeeze of his shoulder. A woman’s voice. “Feel better soon, Rodney. We need you.”
A faint scent of leather as someone snored loudly nearby.
The blinding flash of a light in his eyes.
A conversation, whispered and intense.
“Here, Colonel. I want you to take these.”
“I don’t want them.”
“How much sleep have you had this week?”
“I’m fine. I don’t need them.”
“Aye, you do. I’ll make it an order if I have to.”
Insistent tapping on his cheek. “That’s it. Come on, Rodney. I need you to wake up now. Open your eyes for a minute and then I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Questions. There were always questions. What was his name? Did he know where he was? For a while, they all blurred together.
“How are you feeling, lad?”
“B-bad. Hurtssss.” Rodney licked his dry lips. The answer was all wrong. No one should speak in such brief sentences.
“I’ll give you something for the pain in a minute.”
“H-how ‘bout n-now?”
“Patient as always, I see.” Carson smiled. “Do you remember what happened?”
Rodney thought about it. Thinking made his head hurt more. “Mmmm...Doranda. Blew up.” His felt his chest tighten with anxiety. “I was in th’ explosion? Sh-Sheppard? Was he...?”
“It’s alright, Rodney. Calm down. No, you weren’t in the explosion. Colonel Sheppard is fine. You had a wee mishap with a jumper. No one else was hurt.”
“D-damage?”
“I don’t know. The jumper looked a bit dinged up to me, but not too bad.”
“No. M-my brain. Damage?”
“Oh. You have a concussion, but there’s no permanent injury.”
Rodney sighed with relief as his eyes started to drift and close. “Tired.”
“I know. You can go back to sleep, now.” Carson patted him gently. “Your body still has a lot of healing to do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For once, Rodney couldn’t wait to get out of the infirmary. His ribs were healing, he was getting physiotherapy for his arm and his head didn’t ache so much. He’d been there long enough that he’d had his fill of being tended to all day, his fill of the good medication, and his fill of well-meaning visitors - especially the well-meaning visitors.
Lorne had stopped by. Standing stiffly, he offered his apologies. “Doctor Beckett tells me you probably weren’t well even on our first flight lesson. I’m sorry.”
Rodney debated whether he should accept the apology or be offended that Lorne would have believed him to be that incompetent.
Teyla visited often. Rodney appreciated that she had so many soothing techniques to help manage the aches and pains as his body healed. At the same time, he’d heard more than he ever really would be interested in knowing about the day-to-day activities on Athos. And he never wanted to hear about another tava bean again.
Ronon was great at helping Rodney in and out of bed. He was really great at scaring the nurses off with a glare when they tried to interrupt Rodney’s meal or naps to check his vital signs. He wasn’t so good at providing any sort of mental stimulation. Conversation was minimal.
“How’s it going, McKay?”
“Terrible. Everything hurts and -”
“Huh,” Ronon would grunt. “That’s too bad.” Then he’d drop into a chair and sit with his feet on Rodney’s bed.
Sheppard was there, too. He usually visited when Rodney was sleeping. Rodney would sometimes wake up at night and find him there. It was reassuring that Sheppard still dropped by, but he didn’t know what to make of the fact that he visited at night. They hardly ever talked. Rodney thought it was strange that he could spend so much time with someone and still miss them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Rodney was finally released from the infirmary, Ronon was there to escort him back to his room.
“How come you got this job?” Rodney asked.
“Sheppard told me to make sure you got to your quarters okay.”
“Maybe I can get there by myself.” Rodney wobbled a little and caught himself on the wall.
“Maybe it’s doin’ things by yourself that got you into trouble in the first place.”
“Did Sheppard tell you to dispense clichéd wisdom along the way, too?”
“No. He left the-”
“I know. I know. He left the method up to you,” Rodney mocked.
Ronon narrowed his eyes and made a scary, growling sound.
Rodney felt his knees go weak. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or the unaccustomed exertion after having been in the infirmary for so long. Probably both. He stopped and rested against the wall for a minute.
“Still wanna do this all by yourself?”
Rodney tried to glare at Ronon, but found it hard to lift his head up. He sighed in defeat. “Not really. No.”
“Come on, then.” Ronon slipped an arm around Rodney, supporting him for the rest of the walk back.
When they arrived at Rodney's quarters, Ronon guided him to his bed and helped lower him down with surprising gentleness until he was settled comfortably.
“Are you always going to do what Sheppard asks?” Rodney inquired, this time without a trace of mockery in his voice. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes to follow orders.”
“I’m not.” Ronon pulled up chair near Rodney’s bed. “I told you I’d made a mistake, too - a big one. Been trying to figure out where I went wrong and how to fix it.”
“Did you figure it out?” Rodney relaxed into his pillows.
“I think so. I was used to being on my own for so long. I broke someone’s trust by forgettin’ I was part of a team now.”
“So this,” Rodney gestured to himself, “is your idea of being a team player?”
“Yeah. You got a problem with it?”
“No. You’re doing fine.”
“Fine?”
“Alright, good. You’re doing good.”
“Good?” Ronon raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t go for superlatives.” Rodney gave a reluctant huff. “Okay, very good. You’re doing very good.”
“Cool.” Ronon grinned and propped his feet up on Rodney’s bed, preparing to wait for his teammate to fall asleep.
“I broke Sheppard’s trust.” Rodney sighed deeply. “My fix-up didn’t go so well.”
“Don’t think runnin’ yourself into the ground trying to be good at everything was the way to go. You didn’t mess up because you weren’t good enough at what you do.”
“What else is there to do?” Rodney asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. He was still tired and the thought of more effort ahead of him was overwhelming.
“Why did you mess up?”
“If I could have just found a way to contain... No, that’s not it. I screwed up because I thought I knew better than everyone else, better than the Ancients, better that Zelenka, and better than Sheppard and Weir. I’m a very arrogant man, in case you haven’t figured that out.”
“I figured that out.”
Rodney wondered for a moment if he should be offended by that. “So what am I supposed to do?” he challenged.
“Listen to others sometimes.”
“Oh... That’s not one of my better skills.”
“Same.”
“How am I going to work on that?” Rodney almost whined. “It’s not something I can ask someone to teach me - not that getting instruction was particularly successful.” He yawned, feeling the need for more sleep tug at him insistently.
“You’re listening to me now. That’s a good start.”
“Good?”
“Very good,” Ronon rumbled.
“Cool.” Rodney gave a small smile, feeling the weight begin to lift for the first time in many weeks. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Just so you know,” Ronon looked Rodney in the eye as they finished up breakfast in the cafeteria a few days later, “I trust you.”
“You do? Really?” Rodney felt almost childishly pleased by that.
“Question is, do you trust yourself?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I trust myself. I...” Rodney’s eyes dropped to the table. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. I’m still the smartest man in two galaxies, but...” His shoulders sagged as he shook his head with regret. “I don’t know anymore.”
Ronon huffed. “Well, we won’t figure that out sitting around here.”
“What do you mean?” Rodney narrowed his eyes.
Ronon stood up. “There’s more truth in action than in words. Follow me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Aw, not the target range again,” Rodney protested. “You know where that got me the last time. I’m through with training. For good.”
“We’re not training. This is your final test.”
“Final test?” Rodney squeaked. “I’m not taking-”
Ronon pulled out his blaster.
“Okay. Fine. Fine.” Rodney started backing up - for all the good that would do against a blaster. “You don’t have to threaten me.”
“I’m not threatening. I was gonna show you how to use it.”
“This is a joke, right?” Rodney laughed nervously.
“No joke, McKay.”
Rodney studied Ronon for a minute, realizing his seriousness.
“It’s got two settings, kill...” Rodney jumped as Ronon flicked the switch to the most lethal setting. “...and stun.” Ronon flipped the switch back. “You just aim...and fire.” Ronon demonstrated, blasting a dinner-plate sized hole in the target figure.
Rodney gulped as Ronon handed the weapon to him. He hefted it gingerly. It was even heavier than it looked.
While Rodney got the feel of the weapon, Ronon walked around the table separating them from the target range.
“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be there!”
Ronon strode to the end of the range and stood between two target figures. “Go ahead.”
“Are you nuts? Get out of the way first.”
“No need. If you’re accurate, I’ll be fine.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, this thing blasts a huge hole and I mean huge. There’s no margin for error.”
“There’s never a margin of error with any weapon when you’re under attack. Now, shoot.”
Rodney squinted, trying to focus his aim. The blaster shook visibly in his trembling hands.
“What are you waiting for?” Ronon called out.
Rodney took a deep breath and removed one hand from the weapon to wipe away the sweat dripping into his eyes. Then he re-gripped the blaster and aimed.
After a minute, Rodney lowered the weapon. “I can’t. What if I end up stunning you or killing you, or...or worse? I’m not doing it.” Rodney put the weapon down with finality.
Ronon ambled back.
“I guess that answers the question.” Rodney’s head drooped.
“Guess it does.”
Rodney heaved a weary sigh. “I failed the test.”
“Failed? You passed.”
“How? How did I pass? I didn’t even fire the weapon!”
“You don’t have the skill to fire a blaster. You made a good decision not to.”
“Oh.” Rodney frowned, momentarily insulted. Then his eyes widened with realization. A small smile crossed his face.
“So maybe you can start thinking about trusting yourself again.”
“But what if I had fired? You could have been hurt.”
“Knew you wouldn’t.”
“How could you possibly have known that?”
“I trust you.”
Rodney smiled again, knowing that he was finally on the right track.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I shouldn’t have opened the door without asking who it was. Rodney’s mouth went dry, seeing Sheppard in his doorway.
“Can I come in?”
“Um... Okay. Sure.” Rodney squelched an immature desire to say ‘no’ as Sheppard had the night Collins died. He stepped back, allowing Sheppard to enter.
“How are you feeling?” Sheppard’s tone was light.
“Okay. Carson says...uh...I’m almost healed.” He had been going to say ‘ready for light duty’ but he was afraid Sheppard was here to tell him he was off duty - permanently.
“I need to talk to you,” Sheppard stated.
“No, you don’t. I’ve already figured out where I went wrong. Just cut to the bottom li-”
“Rodney, just listen for a minute.”
“Oh. Listening. I can do that.” Rodney sat down, folded his hands in his lap and pressed his lips together like an obedient schoolchild.
Sheppard tipped his head curiously as though surprised by Rodney’s actions - and maybe a little doubtful. “I’m sorry it all went so wrong. I’ve been thinking about everything that happened. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. At first, I was angry with you for everything that went wrong.”
Rodney opened his mouth to say something then snapped it shut again.
Sheppard paused for the interruption. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise when it didn’t happen. “I realized later that I was partly to blame for the mistakes, too.”
Rodney jumped in. “Don’t blame yourself for-” and then he stopped himself. “Sorry. Still listening.”
“Okay.” Sheppard wrinkled his forehead, beginning to look a bit unnerved by Rodney’s attempts at attentiveness. He took a deep breath. “You’re an outstanding scientist. I trust your abilities. But I shouldn’t have expected you to be right all the time. I wanted you to be right because I wanted that ultimate power source as much as you did.” Sheppard wandered over to the window, jammed his hands into his pockets and stared out over Atlantis as he continued. “And I wanted you to be right because, as a friend, I really wanted to see you pull this off. I shoved aside any doubts I had because of that. I didn’t do my job as your team leader. I scared myself once I thought about it. It was a mistake and I’m sorry about that.”
Once it was clear that Sheppard had stopped talking, Rodney responded, grasping even more awkwardly than usual for the right thing to say following the revelation. “You sound as if you’ve been talking to Heightmeyer.”
Sheppard’s head snapped around, faint colour rising in his face as he regarded Rodney.
Damn, hit too close to home. He’s been seeing Heightmeyer. Maybe when you really listened to someone you could learn too much. Maybe you learned things you never really wanted to know. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that you...you needed... Sorry. I’ll go back to listening.” Except, maybe I won’t listen quite as carefully this time.
Sheppard shook his head. “It’s okay. Sometimes an outside opinion can be helpful.”
I’m learning that, too, Rodney thought.
“I’m also sorry my words made you think you had to prove yourself.”
Rodney sighed. “I really wanted to impress you.”
“Impress me? Hell, Rodney, you do that every day.”
“I do?” Rodney’s voice rose in surprise. “You never mentioned that before.”
“Why do you think you’re on my team?”
“Huh,” Rodney grunted. “I guess there is more truth in action than in words.”
“What?”
“I’ve been talking to someone too.” Actually, trying to listen a bit more than talk.
“So, we’re good?” Sheppard asked.
“Very good.”
“Well, see you at dinner then.”
“See you at dinner,” Rodney agreed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rodney plunked his tray down on the table and joined his team. It was so familiar yet strange at the same time. They hadn’t all been together for several weeks. The conversation was awkward at first. Silence was interspersed with moments in which everyone tried to talk at the same time. Eventually though, it settled into a normal rhythm, comfortable and soothing.
“So,” said Sheppard, “I’ve been thinking we could use a little time as a team before heading out on our next mission in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh, no,” Rodney protested. “I was sent on a team-building encounter group once. None of the people who went and ‘shared’ would speak to one another for a week - and no one would speak to me for over a month.”
“Not that kind of team activity.” Sheppard grimaced, giving Rodney the impression he didn’t think much of ‘sharing’ either.
“Good.” Rodney slumped with relief - but only momentarily. “Not an experiential activity either.” Rodney’s eyes widened as he panicked at the idea. “You know the ones that are supposed to build trust; the ones where everyone stands in a circle with one person in the middle and that person is supposed to close their eyes and fall backwards and everyone will catch them?”
“Yeah…” A flicker of sympathy appeared in Sheppard’s face, suggesting he knew how this story was going to end for Rodney.
“No one ever caught me. I think they moved out of the way on purpose. I even got a concussion once when I hit the floor.”
“That does not seem like a useful activity to build trust.” Teyla shook her head as she reached out and placed one hand gently on Rodney’s arm. “Rest assured, Rodney, that we will never let you fall again.”
Sheppard seemed to pale a bit at that remark. “Never again,” he said softly, almost to himself.
Ronon looked around the room, scowling. His fingers twitched over his blaster. “Are any people from your groups here on Atlantis?” he growled.
“None, thankfully.”
Ronon’s arm moved slowly back to the table. “If we ever go to Earth together, point them out to me.”
Rodney grinned, heartened by the thought of the Satedan at his side as he confronted his previous acquaintances.
Sheppard tried to continue. “What I actually had in mind was-”
“Wait,” Rodney interrupted. “And none of those activities where - ow!” Rodney reached under the table and grabbed his shin which had just been kicked by his newfound protector.
Listen, Ronon mouthed at him.
Right. Listening. “Sorry. I’m done. Go on.” Rodney smiled as he massaged his leg. His team would even protect him from himself if he let them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The entrance to the underground ‘games lounge’ was a long way from the gate. It was far enough away that Sheppard agreed to take a jumper. If it been closer, they would have had to walk and as far as Rodney was concerned, a trek of more than a few minutes across any type of terrain did not qualify as recreation.
Rodney glanced at his teammates and almost laughed out loud. They were dressed in ratty, ill-fitting, mismatched pieces of Atlantean uniforms. The clothing had been deemed ‘beyond salvageable,’ making it just right for the trip. Ronon had said they were to take nothing that they couldn’t afford to lose and that included the clothing on their backs. Rodney really had to wonder about a vacation spot in which he was in danger of losing even the clothes off his back. It was a small comfort to know that Ronon was still carrying concealed weapons.
After parking the cloaked jumper, the team followed Ronon along a short, narrow trail to a spot that he claimed was within view of the entrance. All Rodney could actually see was a mass of thick shrubbery against the rocky face of the mountain.
“I guess the place does enough business just by word of mouth,” Sheppard observed wryly. “They obviously don’t need blinking neon signs and free-night-in-the-hotel giveaway packages to attract customers.”
Ronon looked at Sheppard questioningly. “If too many people know about the place, they blow it up and relocate. Guess they don’t do that on Earth, huh?”
“Uh, no.” Sheppard shook his head.
“You’ve heard about those free giveaway packages, too?” Rodney asked, glancing at Sheppard.
Sheppard shrugged. “I got a coupon in the mail once.”
Rodney threw up his arms in exasperation. “I never get one. Never. Everyone I know gets those offers in the mail except me. Of course I don’t know that many people, but still...”
“You have to go to a casino first, and then you get invited back,” Sheppard explained.
“Oh...” Rodney frowned. “You know, I have a great aunt in Toronto who gets invited to stay at Casino Rama almost every month.”
“Every month?” Sheppard questioned. “She must bet a lot of money.”
“I think she loses a lot of money. I heard she mortgaged her house once to pay off her debts...” Rodney thought for a moment and then narrowed his eyes at Sheppard. “How much did you lose?”
“Not much.” Sheppard ducked his head, suddenly absorbed in studying a ripped and frayed portion of his shirt.
Ronon interrupted the exchange, signaling them to be quiet. As per his earlier instructions, the team hung back while Ronon approached the shrubbery, located the well-camouflaged door and knocked. Following that, there appeared to be a heated exchange with much gesticulating between Ronon and a doorman. Rodney figured they were going to be evicted from the establishment before they even gained admission - which might not be a bad thing at all.
Shortly, Ronon returned to the group, grinning. “They’re going to let us in.”
“They’ll let us in even after the argument?” Rodney asked.
“They’ll let us in because I won the argument.”
Rodney doubted the wisdom of entering a room full of patrons capable of intimidating their way in. Maybe he’d placed too much trust in his team’s reassurances that they’d have a good time here. He sighed and trudged after his friends.
The cavern was dark, dank, noisy and somewhat overcrowded. Apart from the sloping rock walls and vaulted rock ceiling, it looked for all the world like what Rodney imagined an illegal, backroom gambling parlor would look like. Except it wasn’t illegal in Pegasus. It was merely hidden from previous dissatisfied customers - and maybe from the odd Wraith looking for a snack. Rodney shuddered at the thought.
Once inside, Teyla exchanged the currency she had already obtained through a series of barters, for piles of dull grey pebbles. She assured her teammates that the stones were the appropriate tender for the parlor. She also provided her friends with instructions on what to drink and what not to drink at the bar, assuming they still wanted to be in possession of all their faculties at the end of the day.
“You’ve done this before, too, haven’t you?” Sheppard asked.
“There have been times,” Teyla admitted, “when the survival of the Athosian people was...enhanced...by high stakes bartering.”
With that, Teyla headed off to check out the various games in progress. The rest of the team followed suit.
Teyla was the first to play a game. She chose something that resembled a child’s board game on Earth. But there must have been a number of twists to the rules because even Rodney had a hard time following the play. He did catch on enough to know that Teyla was losing badly - and frequently. He opened his mouth to offer her advice but Ronon grabbed him by the arm.
“Don’t say a word,” Ronon hissed. “Remember the mistake I mentioned? Interfering got me into trouble in the first place.”
Ronon seemed to be having trouble following his own advice. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, looking as though he was barely holding himself back as he shifted from one foot to the other.
When Teyla finally stood up from the table, she had endured several losses. After some discussion regarding payment, she gave up a significant number of pebbles to purchase fizzy, green drinks for her opponents and their friends.
“You could have asked us for some advice,” Rodney groused.
“I did not require any assistance.”
“You just lost a dozen games.” Rodney’s voice was rising enough to attract the attention of other customers.
“Our opponents are now consuming their winnings.” Teyla smiled as she spoke softly. “Within half an hour, they will be considerably less formidable and we may proceed with the games.”
Ronon looked at her with admiration. “Good thing you’re on our side.”
The team milled about for about thirty minutes. It was a good thing it was so dark, Rodney noted. While their manner of dress fit right in with the crowd, he and his friends were considerably cleaner, less haggard and less battle-scarred than the rest of the customers. In brighter lighting, they would have stood out too much.
Sheppard played next on a board that looked like a cross between chess and a military strategy war-game. Although he learned the game rather quickly, he didn’t win his first three rounds because he failed to gain enough territory. On the other hand, he didn’t lose as many men as his opponents so he wasn’t eliminated from the game either. At the start of the fourth round, only Sheppard and one other player possessed enough markers to remain in the game. Halfway through the round, Sheppard’s opponent passed out due to the third swirling, green fizz generously supplied by Teyla. Sheppard won back all the pebbles Teyla had spent and a selection of assorted trinkets. Ronon grabbed the jeweled knife from Sheppard’s winnings and concealed it so quickly that it seemed to vanish into thin air. Sheppard also won a few broken gadgets which pleased Rodney to no end because he could either repair them or backwards engineer a new one. At the very least they were good for spare parts. From the unconscious competitor, Teyla removed several sacks of a substance which she claimed tasted as good as coffee but was many times more potent. She suggested it would have excellent trade value on Atlantis among the staff.
While passing time until their next game, the team sampled drinks other than the green fizz, all of which were served in glasses that looked suspiciously unwashed - but it was hard to tell in the dark. The drinks tasted rather foul. Rodney said they were all going to end up in the infirmary with a Pegasus version of Montezuma’s Revenge. For once, the team bowed to Rodney’s anxiety over medical matters. The drinks went unfinished.
Finally, it was Ronon and Rodney’s turn at a table which featured a game involving a deck of a couple of hundred paper-thin, wooden tiles and a collection of multi-sided irregular shaped objects that vaguely resembled dice. For the two weeks prior to the trip, Ronon spent time each day teaching the game to Rodney using paper replicas of the playing pieces. The rules were complex and seemed to change with every roll of the dice. Ronon said was a ‘traditional Satedan game.’ Then again, he seemed to declare a number of things to be ‘traditional Satedan.’ Rodney told Carson that he’d know his concussion was healed on the day he could play the game without getting a headache. After watching the game for half an hour, Carson said even without a concussion the game would give anyone a headache.
Ronon and Rodney approached the table.
“Remember to keep your head down,” Ronon instructed, “and keep your eyes on the tiles.”
“Why do I have to keep my head down?”
“’Cause our opponents will be able to figure out everything we’re gonna do just by looking at your face.”
“I can maintain a very good poker face,” Rodney declared. “Watch.” He tried to school his features into a carefully neutral expression.
Ronon looked at him for a moment. “No, you can’t.”
“Okay, what am I thinking now?” Rodney challenged.
“Don’t need to even see your face to know that. You’re thinking you could play better by yourself. But you’re wrong. We’re better as a team.”
Rodney gaped and spluttered for a moment before conceding the point. “Fine. Let’s get the game started.”
Ronon looked after rolling the dice and outlining possible ways of playing the cards based on the options presented by the roll. Rodney would never admit it, but he still hadn’t grasped all the possible combinations and permutations of plays available. He suspected there was a component in the game that allowed players to make up some of the rules as they went along. He figured that was probably a well-kept Satedan secret. Rodney’s job was to calculate the risks and benefits of the possible plays based on the cards they held and the cards their opponents held.
Ronon and Rodney won the first few games by a wide margin - an uncommonly wide margin, judging by the perturbed looks on the faces of the opponents. In between rounds, Ronon turned to Rodney and spoke in a low whisper. “Are you tracking the tiles?”
“Is that the same as counting cards?”
“Probably.”
“So what if I am?”
“You can’t do that.” Ronon’s tone was urgent.
“How can I not do that? It just happens. I see them once and there they are in my head. I’m a genius, you know.”
“Genius or not, it’s not allowed.”
“What’s the penalty? They’ll throw us out?”
“The penalty is death.”
Since Ronon did have a good poker face, Rodney couldn’t tell whether he was in mortal danger now or not. “Okay. Here’s the new plan. We’ll lose a couple of matches so they don’t get suspicious, then we’ll go for a big win and get out of here.”
“Sounds good to me.” Ronon picked up the dice for the next round.
They lost the next round by a narrow margin, requiring them to surrender only a few pebbles - and Sheppard’s sneakers.
“I told you not to wear anything valuable,” Ronon reminded him when Sheppard complained.
When they lost the round after that, their opponents looked considerably happier, much to Rodney’s relief.
Then they went for the big win.
Their winnings started with a cart in which to put the rest of their prizes. Teyla bartered away a selection of useless items for all the coins they had originally brought in and then some. Sheppard obtained three lethal-looking handguns of some sort for himself and another couple of knives for Ronon’s collection. He also obtained a pair of reasonably comfortable, slightly worn shoes which would do until he could get replacement sneakers. Rodney was offered a selection of plants, which he almost refused.
“Take them,” Teyla whispered under her breath.
Ronon looked them over and grinned. “Aren’t these plants used for-”
“Yes,” Teyla said. “But we will not be using them for that. They have significant medicinal properties which I am sure will be of interest to Dr. Beckett and the botanists.”
“Too bad,” grumbled Ronon.
They were offered ten bottles of the green fizz. Sheppard shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t think Elizabeth would be too happy to have this stuff circulating around Atlantis.”
“We may need it to buy our way out of here in a few minutes,” Teyla advised.
The green fizz went into the cart.
“We should keep a couple for ourselves,” Ronon suggested.
After that came various items of jewelry, sacks of seed, and-
“Start moving toward the door,” Sheppard urged in a low whisper.
Rodney scanned the room and saw several patrons moving toward the space between his team and the door.
The team started to back up. Teyla distributed bottles of green fizz as she went. Sheppard cracked the nearest patron across the jaw as the man reached out to grab him. Rodney smashed one of the potted plants across the head of another denizen who approached much too closely. Ronon pulled out his stunner and dropped a few more customers to the ground. Then the team took the cart and ran.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Now that,” said Sheppard as he examined his new weapons, “was teamwork.” His eyes gleamed. “And speaking of teamwork...” He gestured to the console in front of the pilot’s seat. “It’s your turn, Rodney.”
“My turn for what? To fly?” Rodney squeaked. Oh, no. Thank you very much, but no. My days of flying are over.”
“No, they’re not. We might need you in an emergency some day.” Sheppard got up out of the seat.
“Please don’t make me do this,” Rodney pleaded.
“Trust me.” Sheppard smiled. “Here.” He handed Rodney a data pad with something scribbled on it.
“What’s this?” Rodney felt as if all the oxygen drained from the jumper as he sat tentatively in the pilot’s seat.
“You tell me,” Sheppard challenged.
Rodney frowned at the number and symbols in front of him. “It’s an equation.”
“A linear equation.”
“Yes, but a very, very complex one.” Rodney examined the data, still clearly puzzled. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“That,” said Sheppard “is your flight path.”
Rodney studied the data again and smiled, feeling the remnants of the weight of the last few weeks fall away. And for the first time, he flew in a really straight line.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author: tridget
Back to Chapter One
Truth in Action
Chapter Two
Why do nurses interrupt a perfectly good rest to make sure you’re doing okay? It makes no sense, Rodney grumbled to himself when he woke to find a nurse checking his vital signs.
The nurse had already moved on when Rodney thought to question why he was in the infirmary. He had a vague memory of standing in the infirmary doorway, feeling like crap, but not much beyond that. Rodney glanced at his watch. 5:40 a.m. He had a nagging feeling he was supposed to be somewhere. He dozed for a few minutes before it hit him - puddlejumper instruction, probably his last session. It would certainly be his last one if he didn’t show up. Rodney swung his legs off the bed, noting with relief that the dizziness had lessened, although his head had a stuffed-with-cotton feeling. A tug on his arm as he tried to shuffle away from the bed informed Rodney that he had acquired an I.V. at some point. He couldn’t think why. Probably he didn’t need it. Since the nurse was no longer in the room, no one noticed when Rodney pulled it out. No one noticed when he changed back into his uniform, which was still lying tossed across a nearby chair. No one noticed when he headed off to the Jumper Bay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lorne wasn’t in the Jumper Bay. He and his team had to make an unscheduled off-world trip. However, Lorne left a note for Rodney about his absence. Rodney was unsure what to do next. He couldn’t seem to pull together an alternate plan. Snippets of thoughts floated around in his head, vague and unsubstantial. He wandered into a jumper and sat down to think.
After a few minutes, it came to Rodney that he was supposed to be flying to the mainland. His anxiety level ratcheted up a few notches when he realized he was five minutes late in leaving. Being late wasn’t good. He powered up the jumper and took off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once he was in the air, confusion crept in again. Rodney couldn’t recall why he was flying to the mainland. He pivoted on his seat to ask Sheppard about the mission, but discovered with a panic that there was no one in the jumper with him. His heart rate soared.
Rodney began to feel that the jumper was tilting and rolling from side to side. He tried dialing up the inertial dampeners, but that didn’t seem to do the trick. A glance at the HUD told Rodney his course was about as straight as he usually flew, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. He had thought motion sickness aboard a jumper was impossible, but he really wished he had some Dramamine with him now.
After a haphazard check of the main systems, Rodney concluded that the HUD was malfunctioning. He fought to correct his course, but couldn’t stop the rolling motion. The more he corrected his course, the more erratic the flight path on the HUD became. The display now showed a rather dizzying path - just not the same one his vestibular system told him he was taking. He fought another wave of nausea as dark spots started to dance in front of his eyes again.
A voice called over the radio, startling Rodney. “Jumper Four, this is Atlantis. Do you copy?”
“Atlantis?” Rodney keyed the jumper’s radio. Maybe someone on Atlantis would know what to do. “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” he yelled.
“Jumper Four, what is the nature of the emergency?”
Confusion washed over Rodney completley. “I-I don’t know.” He gripped the panel in front of him, perceiving the jumper to tilt and roll wildly again. His stomach lurched as he glanced around the ship. “I think...I think the pilot is missing.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John had just finished showering and dressing after his morning run with Ronon when he hooked his radio around his ear. Immediately, it crackled to life with the kind of rapid-fire chatter from multiple sources that usually spelled imminent disaster. A tight knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he tapped his headset. “Sheppard here. What’s happening?”
The control room responded instantly. “Sir, we’re tracking a jumper on a course for the mainland. The pilot appears to be experiencing difficulty with flight control.”
Sheppard was already out of his quarters and running down the hall by the time the message ended. “On my way.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sheppard skidded to a halt in the control room. A quick glance at the view screen showed an unstable flight path that seemed to consist of several corkscrew maneuvers.
“Who’s in the jumper?” Sheppard demanded as he moved quickly to sit at one of the control consoles.
Chuck’s fingers flew over his keyboard. “Not sure, sir. This is Major Lorne’s usual morning flight.”
“Lorne’s off-world.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then who-”
“We don’t know, but the last transmission we received before contact was cut off said that the pilot was missing.”
“Doctor McKay usually accompanies Major Lorne in the morning,” another technician offered.
“What? Why were they-”
“Sir, I think we’ve reestablished contact.”
“Jumper Four, this is Colonel Sheppard-”
“Colonel? Thank God. I-I-I don’t know what’s wrong with the jumper. I keep dialing up the inertial dampeners and it’s still spinning. It won’t fly straight. And I thought you were supposed to be here, but then I remembered it was Lorne and...and I can’t find him either. It’s just me here and I’m not good at flying.” McKay’s voice, clearly panicked, was starting to slur. “I don’t feel good.”
“Get a rescue jumper with a medical team on standby,” John ordered as a million and one questions about the situation flew through his mind. But he knew his sole focus had to be on the safety of the jumper and its occupant. The questions could be answered later. “Rodney, calm down. Listen to me. I’m going to help you. You have to follow my instructions.”
“Sh-Sheppard?” Rodney’s voice was weak. “I don’t wanna fly this thing anymore.”
“Okay. That’s okay, Rodney. You just have to hang in there a little while longer. I’m gonna help you through this.”
“Sir, the medical team is on its way. Also the infirmary is reporting that Doctor McKay is missing.”
Just then, Carson burst into the conversation.
“Bloody hell. I just heard Rodney’s out there in a jumper. He collapsed and was admitted to the infirmary just after four a.m. suffering from hypoglycemia and exhaustion. He’s likely to be confused and disoriented. I doubt he’s in any condition to fly.”
John processed that information while his mind ran through various possible rescue scenarios. “If I can get him to turn around, can we bring him back on autopilot?” John asked Chuck.
“Negative. He’s too far away now. He’d have to be closer to Atlantis. Even if he did fly back, there’s a risk he’d hit one of the outlying structures before the autopilot kicked in.”
The jumper dot careened across the view screen.
“McKay, listen to me. You have to focus on flying in a straight line.”
“I’m dizzy,” McKay moaned.
“I know that. Don’t look at the HUD and try not to think about how the flight feels. Just think about a straight line-”
Carson interjected, a bit out of breath from his run to the Jumper Bay. “I don’t think he’s going to stay conscious much longer. You have to get him down. And see if he has any food with him. He needs to eat something.”
John nodded grimly to himself. The rescue options were narrowing by the second.
“Rodney,” John called out, “you need to eat. Do you have any food with you?”
“I can’t eat.” Rodney breathed in short gasps. “I feel sick... I... I... Oh, crap,” Rodney groaned.
The radio transmission from the jumper was shut off again.
“McKay? McKay, turn your radio back on!”
There was no response.
“Sir, there’s a clearing here on the mainland that might make a...a suitable landing spot.” Chuck was wise enough not to refer to the point on his map as a crash site. “It’s near his current flight path.”
John glanced at the map and began relaying information to the jumper’s computer. “Is he still receiving our transmissions?”
“Yes.”
“McKay, I know you can hear me. You’re going to have to land the jumper. I’m going to talk you through the landing procedure.” John forced himself to speak in a calm, steady manner. “We’re transmitting the coordinates for a landing site now. I want you to focus on heading toward that location.”
After a tense minute, the course of the jumper shifted slightly.
“That’s good,” John acknowledged. “But you’re going to have to slow down and level off.”
The radio transmission was turned on again. “That’s too much to think all at once.” McKay’s voice was hoarse now.
“McKay, you’re a genius. You can do it. Just focus for a little longer.”
No response.
“McKay!”
“What? What am I supposed to focus on?”
John scrubbed his face with his hands for a second. “Rodney, slow down. Can you do that? Just slow down.”
The jumper slowed somewhat but the flight wavered off course.
“Okay. That’s slower. Now, focus again on the location we sent you.”
“What location? Where’s Lorne? He’s supposed to take over for the landings.”
“Lorne isn’t here right now. You have to land the jumper.”
“I can’t. My head hurts. I can’t land a jumper.”
“Sir, the rescue team and medical personnel are now standing by in the Jumper Bay.”
The jumper entered a steep descent.
John leaned over the console in the control room, his knuckles white where he gripped the panel. “McKay? McKay! Answer me, dammit!”
There was no response, but a look at the jumper’s trajectory on the view screen told John all he needed to know. “McKay! Pull up! For God’s sake, pull up!”
Then the dot of light that was the jumper hit the ground...and winked out.
For a second, John felt as though he’d slammed into the ground himself. Then he took off at a run for the Jumper Bay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes awareness comes back gradually. For Rodney, it came back in fits and starts, like a series of snapshots in time.
Excruciating pain.
The smell of fried circuitry.
The taste of blood.
A man’s voice, breathless and cracking. “Oh, God, Rodney…” And another voice, stern and accented. “Colonel, move out of the way and let my team work.”
Haziness. Floating.
Pain, again. And again. And…
Small, soft hands. They were warm when they held his hand and cool when they stroked his aching head.
Nausea. Sometimes unrelenting. Sometimes hitting intensely without warning. Moaning and retching and the acrid burn of bile.
A squeeze of his shoulder. A woman’s voice. “Feel better soon, Rodney. We need you.”
A faint scent of leather as someone snored loudly nearby.
The blinding flash of a light in his eyes.
A conversation, whispered and intense.
“Here, Colonel. I want you to take these.”
“I don’t want them.”
“How much sleep have you had this week?”
“I’m fine. I don’t need them.”
“Aye, you do. I’ll make it an order if I have to.”
Insistent tapping on his cheek. “That’s it. Come on, Rodney. I need you to wake up now. Open your eyes for a minute and then I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Questions. There were always questions. What was his name? Did he know where he was? For a while, they all blurred together.
“How are you feeling, lad?”
“B-bad. Hurtssss.” Rodney licked his dry lips. The answer was all wrong. No one should speak in such brief sentences.
“I’ll give you something for the pain in a minute.”
“H-how ‘bout n-now?”
“Patient as always, I see.” Carson smiled. “Do you remember what happened?”
Rodney thought about it. Thinking made his head hurt more. “Mmmm...Doranda. Blew up.” His felt his chest tighten with anxiety. “I was in th’ explosion? Sh-Sheppard? Was he...?”
“It’s alright, Rodney. Calm down. No, you weren’t in the explosion. Colonel Sheppard is fine. You had a wee mishap with a jumper. No one else was hurt.”
“D-damage?”
“I don’t know. The jumper looked a bit dinged up to me, but not too bad.”
“No. M-my brain. Damage?”
“Oh. You have a concussion, but there’s no permanent injury.”
Rodney sighed with relief as his eyes started to drift and close. “Tired.”
“I know. You can go back to sleep, now.” Carson patted him gently. “Your body still has a lot of healing to do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For once, Rodney couldn’t wait to get out of the infirmary. His ribs were healing, he was getting physiotherapy for his arm and his head didn’t ache so much. He’d been there long enough that he’d had his fill of being tended to all day, his fill of the good medication, and his fill of well-meaning visitors - especially the well-meaning visitors.
Lorne had stopped by. Standing stiffly, he offered his apologies. “Doctor Beckett tells me you probably weren’t well even on our first flight lesson. I’m sorry.”
Rodney debated whether he should accept the apology or be offended that Lorne would have believed him to be that incompetent.
Teyla visited often. Rodney appreciated that she had so many soothing techniques to help manage the aches and pains as his body healed. At the same time, he’d heard more than he ever really would be interested in knowing about the day-to-day activities on Athos. And he never wanted to hear about another tava bean again.
Ronon was great at helping Rodney in and out of bed. He was really great at scaring the nurses off with a glare when they tried to interrupt Rodney’s meal or naps to check his vital signs. He wasn’t so good at providing any sort of mental stimulation. Conversation was minimal.
“How’s it going, McKay?”
“Terrible. Everything hurts and -”
“Huh,” Ronon would grunt. “That’s too bad.” Then he’d drop into a chair and sit with his feet on Rodney’s bed.
Sheppard was there, too. He usually visited when Rodney was sleeping. Rodney would sometimes wake up at night and find him there. It was reassuring that Sheppard still dropped by, but he didn’t know what to make of the fact that he visited at night. They hardly ever talked. Rodney thought it was strange that he could spend so much time with someone and still miss them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Rodney was finally released from the infirmary, Ronon was there to escort him back to his room.
“How come you got this job?” Rodney asked.
“Sheppard told me to make sure you got to your quarters okay.”
“Maybe I can get there by myself.” Rodney wobbled a little and caught himself on the wall.
“Maybe it’s doin’ things by yourself that got you into trouble in the first place.”
“Did Sheppard tell you to dispense clichéd wisdom along the way, too?”
“No. He left the-”
“I know. I know. He left the method up to you,” Rodney mocked.
Ronon narrowed his eyes and made a scary, growling sound.
Rodney felt his knees go weak. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or the unaccustomed exertion after having been in the infirmary for so long. Probably both. He stopped and rested against the wall for a minute.
“Still wanna do this all by yourself?”
Rodney tried to glare at Ronon, but found it hard to lift his head up. He sighed in defeat. “Not really. No.”
“Come on, then.” Ronon slipped an arm around Rodney, supporting him for the rest of the walk back.
When they arrived at Rodney's quarters, Ronon guided him to his bed and helped lower him down with surprising gentleness until he was settled comfortably.
“Are you always going to do what Sheppard asks?” Rodney inquired, this time without a trace of mockery in his voice. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes to follow orders.”
“I’m not.” Ronon pulled up chair near Rodney’s bed. “I told you I’d made a mistake, too - a big one. Been trying to figure out where I went wrong and how to fix it.”
“Did you figure it out?” Rodney relaxed into his pillows.
“I think so. I was used to being on my own for so long. I broke someone’s trust by forgettin’ I was part of a team now.”
“So this,” Rodney gestured to himself, “is your idea of being a team player?”
“Yeah. You got a problem with it?”
“No. You’re doing fine.”
“Fine?”
“Alright, good. You’re doing good.”
“Good?” Ronon raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t go for superlatives.” Rodney gave a reluctant huff. “Okay, very good. You’re doing very good.”
“Cool.” Ronon grinned and propped his feet up on Rodney’s bed, preparing to wait for his teammate to fall asleep.
“I broke Sheppard’s trust.” Rodney sighed deeply. “My fix-up didn’t go so well.”
“Don’t think runnin’ yourself into the ground trying to be good at everything was the way to go. You didn’t mess up because you weren’t good enough at what you do.”
“What else is there to do?” Rodney asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. He was still tired and the thought of more effort ahead of him was overwhelming.
“Why did you mess up?”
“If I could have just found a way to contain... No, that’s not it. I screwed up because I thought I knew better than everyone else, better than the Ancients, better that Zelenka, and better than Sheppard and Weir. I’m a very arrogant man, in case you haven’t figured that out.”
“I figured that out.”
Rodney wondered for a moment if he should be offended by that. “So what am I supposed to do?” he challenged.
“Listen to others sometimes.”
“Oh... That’s not one of my better skills.”
“Same.”
“How am I going to work on that?” Rodney almost whined. “It’s not something I can ask someone to teach me - not that getting instruction was particularly successful.” He yawned, feeling the need for more sleep tug at him insistently.
“You’re listening to me now. That’s a good start.”
“Good?”
“Very good,” Ronon rumbled.
“Cool.” Rodney gave a small smile, feeling the weight begin to lift for the first time in many weeks. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Just so you know,” Ronon looked Rodney in the eye as they finished up breakfast in the cafeteria a few days later, “I trust you.”
“You do? Really?” Rodney felt almost childishly pleased by that.
“Question is, do you trust yourself?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I trust myself. I...” Rodney’s eyes dropped to the table. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. I’m still the smartest man in two galaxies, but...” His shoulders sagged as he shook his head with regret. “I don’t know anymore.”
Ronon huffed. “Well, we won’t figure that out sitting around here.”
“What do you mean?” Rodney narrowed his eyes.
Ronon stood up. “There’s more truth in action than in words. Follow me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Aw, not the target range again,” Rodney protested. “You know where that got me the last time. I’m through with training. For good.”
“We’re not training. This is your final test.”
“Final test?” Rodney squeaked. “I’m not taking-”
Ronon pulled out his blaster.
“Okay. Fine. Fine.” Rodney started backing up - for all the good that would do against a blaster. “You don’t have to threaten me.”
“I’m not threatening. I was gonna show you how to use it.”
“This is a joke, right?” Rodney laughed nervously.
“No joke, McKay.”
Rodney studied Ronon for a minute, realizing his seriousness.
“It’s got two settings, kill...” Rodney jumped as Ronon flicked the switch to the most lethal setting. “...and stun.” Ronon flipped the switch back. “You just aim...and fire.” Ronon demonstrated, blasting a dinner-plate sized hole in the target figure.
Rodney gulped as Ronon handed the weapon to him. He hefted it gingerly. It was even heavier than it looked.
While Rodney got the feel of the weapon, Ronon walked around the table separating them from the target range.
“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be there!”
Ronon strode to the end of the range and stood between two target figures. “Go ahead.”
“Are you nuts? Get out of the way first.”
“No need. If you’re accurate, I’ll be fine.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, this thing blasts a huge hole and I mean huge. There’s no margin for error.”
“There’s never a margin of error with any weapon when you’re under attack. Now, shoot.”
Rodney squinted, trying to focus his aim. The blaster shook visibly in his trembling hands.
“What are you waiting for?” Ronon called out.
Rodney took a deep breath and removed one hand from the weapon to wipe away the sweat dripping into his eyes. Then he re-gripped the blaster and aimed.
After a minute, Rodney lowered the weapon. “I can’t. What if I end up stunning you or killing you, or...or worse? I’m not doing it.” Rodney put the weapon down with finality.
Ronon ambled back.
“I guess that answers the question.” Rodney’s head drooped.
“Guess it does.”
Rodney heaved a weary sigh. “I failed the test.”
“Failed? You passed.”
“How? How did I pass? I didn’t even fire the weapon!”
“You don’t have the skill to fire a blaster. You made a good decision not to.”
“Oh.” Rodney frowned, momentarily insulted. Then his eyes widened with realization. A small smile crossed his face.
“So maybe you can start thinking about trusting yourself again.”
“But what if I had fired? You could have been hurt.”
“Knew you wouldn’t.”
“How could you possibly have known that?”
“I trust you.”
Rodney smiled again, knowing that he was finally on the right track.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I shouldn’t have opened the door without asking who it was. Rodney’s mouth went dry, seeing Sheppard in his doorway.
“Can I come in?”
“Um... Okay. Sure.” Rodney squelched an immature desire to say ‘no’ as Sheppard had the night Collins died. He stepped back, allowing Sheppard to enter.
“How are you feeling?” Sheppard’s tone was light.
“Okay. Carson says...uh...I’m almost healed.” He had been going to say ‘ready for light duty’ but he was afraid Sheppard was here to tell him he was off duty - permanently.
“I need to talk to you,” Sheppard stated.
“No, you don’t. I’ve already figured out where I went wrong. Just cut to the bottom li-”
“Rodney, just listen for a minute.”
“Oh. Listening. I can do that.” Rodney sat down, folded his hands in his lap and pressed his lips together like an obedient schoolchild.
Sheppard tipped his head curiously as though surprised by Rodney’s actions - and maybe a little doubtful. “I’m sorry it all went so wrong. I’ve been thinking about everything that happened. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. At first, I was angry with you for everything that went wrong.”
Rodney opened his mouth to say something then snapped it shut again.
Sheppard paused for the interruption. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise when it didn’t happen. “I realized later that I was partly to blame for the mistakes, too.”
Rodney jumped in. “Don’t blame yourself for-” and then he stopped himself. “Sorry. Still listening.”
“Okay.” Sheppard wrinkled his forehead, beginning to look a bit unnerved by Rodney’s attempts at attentiveness. He took a deep breath. “You’re an outstanding scientist. I trust your abilities. But I shouldn’t have expected you to be right all the time. I wanted you to be right because I wanted that ultimate power source as much as you did.” Sheppard wandered over to the window, jammed his hands into his pockets and stared out over Atlantis as he continued. “And I wanted you to be right because, as a friend, I really wanted to see you pull this off. I shoved aside any doubts I had because of that. I didn’t do my job as your team leader. I scared myself once I thought about it. It was a mistake and I’m sorry about that.”
Once it was clear that Sheppard had stopped talking, Rodney responded, grasping even more awkwardly than usual for the right thing to say following the revelation. “You sound as if you’ve been talking to Heightmeyer.”
Sheppard’s head snapped around, faint colour rising in his face as he regarded Rodney.
Damn, hit too close to home. He’s been seeing Heightmeyer. Maybe when you really listened to someone you could learn too much. Maybe you learned things you never really wanted to know. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that you...you needed... Sorry. I’ll go back to listening.” Except, maybe I won’t listen quite as carefully this time.
Sheppard shook his head. “It’s okay. Sometimes an outside opinion can be helpful.”
I’m learning that, too, Rodney thought.
“I’m also sorry my words made you think you had to prove yourself.”
Rodney sighed. “I really wanted to impress you.”
“Impress me? Hell, Rodney, you do that every day.”
“I do?” Rodney’s voice rose in surprise. “You never mentioned that before.”
“Why do you think you’re on my team?”
“Huh,” Rodney grunted. “I guess there is more truth in action than in words.”
“What?”
“I’ve been talking to someone too.” Actually, trying to listen a bit more than talk.
“So, we’re good?” Sheppard asked.
“Very good.”
“Well, see you at dinner then.”
“See you at dinner,” Rodney agreed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rodney plunked his tray down on the table and joined his team. It was so familiar yet strange at the same time. They hadn’t all been together for several weeks. The conversation was awkward at first. Silence was interspersed with moments in which everyone tried to talk at the same time. Eventually though, it settled into a normal rhythm, comfortable and soothing.
“So,” said Sheppard, “I’ve been thinking we could use a little time as a team before heading out on our next mission in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh, no,” Rodney protested. “I was sent on a team-building encounter group once. None of the people who went and ‘shared’ would speak to one another for a week - and no one would speak to me for over a month.”
“Not that kind of team activity.” Sheppard grimaced, giving Rodney the impression he didn’t think much of ‘sharing’ either.
“Good.” Rodney slumped with relief - but only momentarily. “Not an experiential activity either.” Rodney’s eyes widened as he panicked at the idea. “You know the ones that are supposed to build trust; the ones where everyone stands in a circle with one person in the middle and that person is supposed to close their eyes and fall backwards and everyone will catch them?”
“Yeah…” A flicker of sympathy appeared in Sheppard’s face, suggesting he knew how this story was going to end for Rodney.
“No one ever caught me. I think they moved out of the way on purpose. I even got a concussion once when I hit the floor.”
“That does not seem like a useful activity to build trust.” Teyla shook her head as she reached out and placed one hand gently on Rodney’s arm. “Rest assured, Rodney, that we will never let you fall again.”
Sheppard seemed to pale a bit at that remark. “Never again,” he said softly, almost to himself.
Ronon looked around the room, scowling. His fingers twitched over his blaster. “Are any people from your groups here on Atlantis?” he growled.
“None, thankfully.”
Ronon’s arm moved slowly back to the table. “If we ever go to Earth together, point them out to me.”
Rodney grinned, heartened by the thought of the Satedan at his side as he confronted his previous acquaintances.
Sheppard tried to continue. “What I actually had in mind was-”
“Wait,” Rodney interrupted. “And none of those activities where - ow!” Rodney reached under the table and grabbed his shin which had just been kicked by his newfound protector.
Listen, Ronon mouthed at him.
Right. Listening. “Sorry. I’m done. Go on.” Rodney smiled as he massaged his leg. His team would even protect him from himself if he let them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The entrance to the underground ‘games lounge’ was a long way from the gate. It was far enough away that Sheppard agreed to take a jumper. If it been closer, they would have had to walk and as far as Rodney was concerned, a trek of more than a few minutes across any type of terrain did not qualify as recreation.
Rodney glanced at his teammates and almost laughed out loud. They were dressed in ratty, ill-fitting, mismatched pieces of Atlantean uniforms. The clothing had been deemed ‘beyond salvageable,’ making it just right for the trip. Ronon had said they were to take nothing that they couldn’t afford to lose and that included the clothing on their backs. Rodney really had to wonder about a vacation spot in which he was in danger of losing even the clothes off his back. It was a small comfort to know that Ronon was still carrying concealed weapons.
After parking the cloaked jumper, the team followed Ronon along a short, narrow trail to a spot that he claimed was within view of the entrance. All Rodney could actually see was a mass of thick shrubbery against the rocky face of the mountain.
“I guess the place does enough business just by word of mouth,” Sheppard observed wryly. “They obviously don’t need blinking neon signs and free-night-in-the-hotel giveaway packages to attract customers.”
Ronon looked at Sheppard questioningly. “If too many people know about the place, they blow it up and relocate. Guess they don’t do that on Earth, huh?”
“Uh, no.” Sheppard shook his head.
“You’ve heard about those free giveaway packages, too?” Rodney asked, glancing at Sheppard.
Sheppard shrugged. “I got a coupon in the mail once.”
Rodney threw up his arms in exasperation. “I never get one. Never. Everyone I know gets those offers in the mail except me. Of course I don’t know that many people, but still...”
“You have to go to a casino first, and then you get invited back,” Sheppard explained.
“Oh...” Rodney frowned. “You know, I have a great aunt in Toronto who gets invited to stay at Casino Rama almost every month.”
“Every month?” Sheppard questioned. “She must bet a lot of money.”
“I think she loses a lot of money. I heard she mortgaged her house once to pay off her debts...” Rodney thought for a moment and then narrowed his eyes at Sheppard. “How much did you lose?”
“Not much.” Sheppard ducked his head, suddenly absorbed in studying a ripped and frayed portion of his shirt.
Ronon interrupted the exchange, signaling them to be quiet. As per his earlier instructions, the team hung back while Ronon approached the shrubbery, located the well-camouflaged door and knocked. Following that, there appeared to be a heated exchange with much gesticulating between Ronon and a doorman. Rodney figured they were going to be evicted from the establishment before they even gained admission - which might not be a bad thing at all.
Shortly, Ronon returned to the group, grinning. “They’re going to let us in.”
“They’ll let us in even after the argument?” Rodney asked.
“They’ll let us in because I won the argument.”
Rodney doubted the wisdom of entering a room full of patrons capable of intimidating their way in. Maybe he’d placed too much trust in his team’s reassurances that they’d have a good time here. He sighed and trudged after his friends.
The cavern was dark, dank, noisy and somewhat overcrowded. Apart from the sloping rock walls and vaulted rock ceiling, it looked for all the world like what Rodney imagined an illegal, backroom gambling parlor would look like. Except it wasn’t illegal in Pegasus. It was merely hidden from previous dissatisfied customers - and maybe from the odd Wraith looking for a snack. Rodney shuddered at the thought.
Once inside, Teyla exchanged the currency she had already obtained through a series of barters, for piles of dull grey pebbles. She assured her teammates that the stones were the appropriate tender for the parlor. She also provided her friends with instructions on what to drink and what not to drink at the bar, assuming they still wanted to be in possession of all their faculties at the end of the day.
“You’ve done this before, too, haven’t you?” Sheppard asked.
“There have been times,” Teyla admitted, “when the survival of the Athosian people was...enhanced...by high stakes bartering.”
With that, Teyla headed off to check out the various games in progress. The rest of the team followed suit.
Teyla was the first to play a game. She chose something that resembled a child’s board game on Earth. But there must have been a number of twists to the rules because even Rodney had a hard time following the play. He did catch on enough to know that Teyla was losing badly - and frequently. He opened his mouth to offer her advice but Ronon grabbed him by the arm.
“Don’t say a word,” Ronon hissed. “Remember the mistake I mentioned? Interfering got me into trouble in the first place.”
Ronon seemed to be having trouble following his own advice. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, looking as though he was barely holding himself back as he shifted from one foot to the other.
When Teyla finally stood up from the table, she had endured several losses. After some discussion regarding payment, she gave up a significant number of pebbles to purchase fizzy, green drinks for her opponents and their friends.
“You could have asked us for some advice,” Rodney groused.
“I did not require any assistance.”
“You just lost a dozen games.” Rodney’s voice was rising enough to attract the attention of other customers.
“Our opponents are now consuming their winnings.” Teyla smiled as she spoke softly. “Within half an hour, they will be considerably less formidable and we may proceed with the games.”
Ronon looked at her with admiration. “Good thing you’re on our side.”
The team milled about for about thirty minutes. It was a good thing it was so dark, Rodney noted. While their manner of dress fit right in with the crowd, he and his friends were considerably cleaner, less haggard and less battle-scarred than the rest of the customers. In brighter lighting, they would have stood out too much.
Sheppard played next on a board that looked like a cross between chess and a military strategy war-game. Although he learned the game rather quickly, he didn’t win his first three rounds because he failed to gain enough territory. On the other hand, he didn’t lose as many men as his opponents so he wasn’t eliminated from the game either. At the start of the fourth round, only Sheppard and one other player possessed enough markers to remain in the game. Halfway through the round, Sheppard’s opponent passed out due to the third swirling, green fizz generously supplied by Teyla. Sheppard won back all the pebbles Teyla had spent and a selection of assorted trinkets. Ronon grabbed the jeweled knife from Sheppard’s winnings and concealed it so quickly that it seemed to vanish into thin air. Sheppard also won a few broken gadgets which pleased Rodney to no end because he could either repair them or backwards engineer a new one. At the very least they were good for spare parts. From the unconscious competitor, Teyla removed several sacks of a substance which she claimed tasted as good as coffee but was many times more potent. She suggested it would have excellent trade value on Atlantis among the staff.
While passing time until their next game, the team sampled drinks other than the green fizz, all of which were served in glasses that looked suspiciously unwashed - but it was hard to tell in the dark. The drinks tasted rather foul. Rodney said they were all going to end up in the infirmary with a Pegasus version of Montezuma’s Revenge. For once, the team bowed to Rodney’s anxiety over medical matters. The drinks went unfinished.
Finally, it was Ronon and Rodney’s turn at a table which featured a game involving a deck of a couple of hundred paper-thin, wooden tiles and a collection of multi-sided irregular shaped objects that vaguely resembled dice. For the two weeks prior to the trip, Ronon spent time each day teaching the game to Rodney using paper replicas of the playing pieces. The rules were complex and seemed to change with every roll of the dice. Ronon said was a ‘traditional Satedan game.’ Then again, he seemed to declare a number of things to be ‘traditional Satedan.’ Rodney told Carson that he’d know his concussion was healed on the day he could play the game without getting a headache. After watching the game for half an hour, Carson said even without a concussion the game would give anyone a headache.
Ronon and Rodney approached the table.
“Remember to keep your head down,” Ronon instructed, “and keep your eyes on the tiles.”
“Why do I have to keep my head down?”
“’Cause our opponents will be able to figure out everything we’re gonna do just by looking at your face.”
“I can maintain a very good poker face,” Rodney declared. “Watch.” He tried to school his features into a carefully neutral expression.
Ronon looked at him for a moment. “No, you can’t.”
“Okay, what am I thinking now?” Rodney challenged.
“Don’t need to even see your face to know that. You’re thinking you could play better by yourself. But you’re wrong. We’re better as a team.”
Rodney gaped and spluttered for a moment before conceding the point. “Fine. Let’s get the game started.”
Ronon looked after rolling the dice and outlining possible ways of playing the cards based on the options presented by the roll. Rodney would never admit it, but he still hadn’t grasped all the possible combinations and permutations of plays available. He suspected there was a component in the game that allowed players to make up some of the rules as they went along. He figured that was probably a well-kept Satedan secret. Rodney’s job was to calculate the risks and benefits of the possible plays based on the cards they held and the cards their opponents held.
Ronon and Rodney won the first few games by a wide margin - an uncommonly wide margin, judging by the perturbed looks on the faces of the opponents. In between rounds, Ronon turned to Rodney and spoke in a low whisper. “Are you tracking the tiles?”
“Is that the same as counting cards?”
“Probably.”
“So what if I am?”
“You can’t do that.” Ronon’s tone was urgent.
“How can I not do that? It just happens. I see them once and there they are in my head. I’m a genius, you know.”
“Genius or not, it’s not allowed.”
“What’s the penalty? They’ll throw us out?”
“The penalty is death.”
Since Ronon did have a good poker face, Rodney couldn’t tell whether he was in mortal danger now or not. “Okay. Here’s the new plan. We’ll lose a couple of matches so they don’t get suspicious, then we’ll go for a big win and get out of here.”
“Sounds good to me.” Ronon picked up the dice for the next round.
They lost the next round by a narrow margin, requiring them to surrender only a few pebbles - and Sheppard’s sneakers.
“I told you not to wear anything valuable,” Ronon reminded him when Sheppard complained.
When they lost the round after that, their opponents looked considerably happier, much to Rodney’s relief.
Then they went for the big win.
Their winnings started with a cart in which to put the rest of their prizes. Teyla bartered away a selection of useless items for all the coins they had originally brought in and then some. Sheppard obtained three lethal-looking handguns of some sort for himself and another couple of knives for Ronon’s collection. He also obtained a pair of reasonably comfortable, slightly worn shoes which would do until he could get replacement sneakers. Rodney was offered a selection of plants, which he almost refused.
“Take them,” Teyla whispered under her breath.
Ronon looked them over and grinned. “Aren’t these plants used for-”
“Yes,” Teyla said. “But we will not be using them for that. They have significant medicinal properties which I am sure will be of interest to Dr. Beckett and the botanists.”
“Too bad,” grumbled Ronon.
They were offered ten bottles of the green fizz. Sheppard shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t think Elizabeth would be too happy to have this stuff circulating around Atlantis.”
“We may need it to buy our way out of here in a few minutes,” Teyla advised.
The green fizz went into the cart.
“We should keep a couple for ourselves,” Ronon suggested.
After that came various items of jewelry, sacks of seed, and-
“Start moving toward the door,” Sheppard urged in a low whisper.
Rodney scanned the room and saw several patrons moving toward the space between his team and the door.
The team started to back up. Teyla distributed bottles of green fizz as she went. Sheppard cracked the nearest patron across the jaw as the man reached out to grab him. Rodney smashed one of the potted plants across the head of another denizen who approached much too closely. Ronon pulled out his stunner and dropped a few more customers to the ground. Then the team took the cart and ran.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Now that,” said Sheppard as he examined his new weapons, “was teamwork.” His eyes gleamed. “And speaking of teamwork...” He gestured to the console in front of the pilot’s seat. “It’s your turn, Rodney.”
“My turn for what? To fly?” Rodney squeaked. Oh, no. Thank you very much, but no. My days of flying are over.”
“No, they’re not. We might need you in an emergency some day.” Sheppard got up out of the seat.
“Please don’t make me do this,” Rodney pleaded.
“Trust me.” Sheppard smiled. “Here.” He handed Rodney a data pad with something scribbled on it.
“What’s this?” Rodney felt as if all the oxygen drained from the jumper as he sat tentatively in the pilot’s seat.
“You tell me,” Sheppard challenged.
Rodney frowned at the number and symbols in front of him. “It’s an equation.”
“A linear equation.”
“Yes, but a very, very complex one.” Rodney examined the data, still clearly puzzled. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“That,” said Sheppard “is your flight path.”
Rodney studied the data again and smiled, feeling the remnants of the weight of the last few weeks fall away. And for the first time, he flew in a really straight line.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~