Adrenaline
Aug. 12th, 2022 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stringertheoryTitle: Adrenaline
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagen, Ronon Dex
Word Count: 7439
Categories: gen, drama, team as family
Spoilers: Set between 2.18 (“Michael”) and 2.19 (“Inferno”); minor spoilers for “Thirty-Eight Minutes” (1.4)
Warnings: language, near-death experiences
Summary: When Sheppard has a severe allergic reaction off-world, Rodney knows exactly what to do, and the team gets a dose of reality regarding Rodney’s own allergies.
This was the second time Rodney had been in a puddle jumper with Sheppard dying in the back.
Everything had been going so well. P8C-052 was an uninhabited planet, completely free from anyone who would try to attack, capture, or kill them. It was supposed to have been a simple, leisurely excursion (or “boring,” as Ronon had called it), a little bit of variety in the middle of their usual life and death missions.
Rodney should have known better.
-000000-
“What are we looking for again?”
Sheppard was a few meters ahead of Rodney, half-heartedly studying the forest around him. He pushed aside a few limbs of a nearby tree, eyeing the plants under their shadow.
“You have the picture,” Rodney irritably reminded him. He wasn’t exactly thrilled by the assignment, either. “It’s some kind of plant one of our trading partners considers to be highly rare and extremely valuable.”
“Meaning they’re willing to trade us pretty much whatever we want for it,” Ronon grumbled.
“So Elizabeth says,” Rodney confirmed.
“I know all of that, Rodney,” Sheppard replied, annoyance in his tone. “I was asking what the plant is that we’re looking for.”
“It is the melonas shrub,” Teyla advised. “It is not common, but I would not consider it rare. It is simply only found on a small number of planets. But where it does grow, it usually does so in abundance.” Uncharacteristically, she sounded a little annoyed, too. “I am not sure why we have not found any yet.”
“It’s a weed on Sateda,” Ronon idly commented. “Grows everywhere.”
Rodney paused, throwing an uncertain glance Sheppard’s way. He was a bit perturbed to find that Sheppard looked fractionally nervous, and he noticed that Teyla appeared almost resigned, as if she half-expected they would wind up having to brave Sateda again in order to collect some shrubbery.
“Let’s hope we find it here, then,” Sheppard said. He pointed a finger at Ronon. “And don’t tell Elizabeth about Sateda. She might actually consider sending us there to get some.”
Rodney blinked at him in surprise. “What exactly are these trading partners offering us?”
“Apparently they have highly advanced shields of some kind, though they’re staying very hush-hush about the details until we prove that we can supply the—” He looked to Teyla.
“Melonas shrub.”
“The melonas shrub they’re asking for.”
“Which is why we’re on garden duty,” Ronon growled, thrashing a nearby branch like an annoyed toddler.
“Take it easy, Chewie. We’ll spar when we get back and I’ll let you wail on me a bit.”
Ronon grinned, wide and a little predatory. “Promise?”
Sheppard caught Ronon’s expression and checked himself. “Uh, maybe I’ll get you some new Marines to wail on. Either way, I’ll make sure you’re properly exercised.”
“It’s like having an overgrown puppy,” Rodney muttered to himself.
Ronon appeared to have heard him, though, and turned to Sheppard. “That’s one of those tagen-like things you showed us once, right? Furry, floppy ears, tail?”
“Yeah, the young form of one.”
Ronon looked back at Rodney with an expression of exaggerated ferocity, and gave a remarkably good imitation of a dog growl. Rodney rolled his eyes, but he also moved that so Sheppard was between them.
“The dogs you showed us were very cute,” Teyla commented, carefully pronouncing the unfamiliar word.
“They can be, especially the little ones. They come in a lot of different shapes and sizes, though, some cuter than others.” Sheppard peered into some undergrowth before continuing. “We’ve bred them for all kinds of things, so there’s a lot of varieties: hunting, retrieving, finding people, just being companions.”
“You’ve got tiny, yappy ones and you’ve got giant, Ronon-sized ones, and everything in between,” Rodney added, with only the slightest hint of disdain.
“Rodney’s more a cat person. Isn’t that right, McKay?”
“In that I prefer a pet that’s mostly independent? Yes.” He wasn’t all that fond of barking or drool, either.
Rodney checked a cluster of plants that looked vaguely like the one they were searching for, but backed away in frustration when he saw that instead of three-leafed branches, they had five.
“Pets aren’t really a thing here,” Ronon advised.
Sheppard let out a huff of amusement. “Yeah, we’ve noticed. Like most things in Pegasus, it seems animals fall on the spectrum of Eat or Be Eaten.”
“I have visited a few worlds where animals were used for entertainment,” Teyla told them, as she examined a promising looking shrub. “But in most cases where a human keeps an animal that is not for food, it is for protection or hunting.”
“It’s been proven that having a pet—a companion animal—actually improves a person’s health and increases their lifespan,” Rodney absently said. Every now and again, he missed his own cat. “Petting a cat, for example, reduces blood pressure, calms the nervous system, and causes the brain to release serotonin and dopamine.”
Ronon gave him a blank stare, while Teyla slightly raised her eyebrows in the indication that she was waiting for Rodney to elaborate.
“They’re transmitter chemicals in the body that perform a variety of func—” he began.
“They make you feel happy,” Sheppard said, cutting him off.
“Yes, they make you feel happy,” Rodney repeated, with an irritated glance Sheppard’s way.
Sheppard, however, was looking thoughtful.
“Y’know, dogs make really good therapy animals, too. Maybe we should get one for Atlantis. We definitely have enough people who need use it.”
Rodney snorted. “There are at least three people in my lab alone who are allergic to dogs, so good luck getting that cleared.”
“There’re hypoallergenic breeds, we could always get one of those.”
“Yes, by all means, let’s introduce a completely alien species to the Pegasus galaxy. I’m sure nothing terrible will come out of that idea.”
“We’d obviously get it fixed before it came here, Rodney,” Sheppard countered. “And it isn’t like we’d take the dog out of the city for any reason; it would stay there. The ecosystems of Pegasus would be completely safe.”
“And dogs aren’t completely alien,” Teyla added, giving Rodney a small smile. “We have similar creatures here, though they don’t look exactly the same.”
“And they’d most likely be genetically incompatible,” Rodney mused, starting to genuinely consider the idea of a city pet, and finding he wasn’t entirely against it. While he might have preferred a cat, if they were going to bring something over to serve as the emotional support animal for the entire city, it made more sense that it would be a dog.
“See?” Sheppard pointed at him. “You’re warming up to the idea.”
“I never said I was opposed,” Rodney primly retorted, turning to check out another plant. “I just had concerns about the practicality of such a thing, concerns that you had realistic answers for.”
“You’re totally on my side! I knew it, we can definitely convince Elizabeth of this, all we have to d—ACHOO!”
Rodney whipped around and stared at Sheppard in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sneeze before,” he said, amused. “Are you possibly allergic to dogs? Or at least talking about them?”
Sheppard narrowed his eyes at Rodney, looking like he was about to toss out a witty comeback. But something stopped him. He glanced down as though confused, before lifting a hand to his chest and looking back up at Rodney, eyes wide with fear.
“John?” Teyla asked, concerned.
But Rodney knew, somehow he already knew and he was darting toward Sheppard before he’d even made the conscious decision to move. He caught Sheppard as he collapsed, Ronon there in the blink of an eye to help Rodney lower him onto his back. Sheppard was staring up at them, terrified, clutching at his chest and throat. His body was spasming as he desperately tried to draw in air.
“Sheppard!”
Ronon was running his hands over Sheppard, as though searching for a wound, for something that would explain what was going on. Teyla, on her knees at Ronon’s side, ran her eyes over the same course, looking for damage they wouldn’t find.
Rodney ripped off his pack and fumbled for the side pocket zipper, yanking it open so hard that it broke. He shoved suddenly uncoordinated fingers into the pocket and, after two tries, managed to get hold of one of the EpiPens inside. As he extracted it, the two others that were in the pocket fell out onto the ground, but he ignored them. In one fluid motion, he popped the cap off the pen he was holding and jabbed it into the outside of Sheppard’s thigh until he heard the click. He started counting.
One, two, three, four…
“Rodney?”
“McKay—”
Rodney held up his free hand, absently noting that it was shaking slightly.
Five, six, seven, eight…
Was it his imagination, or had Sheppard stopped even trying to breathe? No—there was an attempted inhalation; labored, but an inhalation nonetheless.
Nine, ten.
He pulled the spent pen away and tossed it aside. Sheppard wasn’t wearing a tac vest today—none of them were, not for this nice, safe mission—and Rodney briskly rubbed his palm against the center of Sheppard’s chest.
“Breathe, John! Breathe, dammit!”
And Sheppard did. He sucked in a breath that was ragged and shallow, but at least he’d gotten some oxygen. As he continued to draw in air, he rolled panicked eyes toward Rodney’s face.
“Rodney?” he wheezed, voice full of fear and confusion.
“You’re having an allergic reaction,” Rodney told him, mildly amazed by how calm his own voice sounded given that it felt like a hurricane was loose inside him. He felt like he should be frantically screaming, but somehow he wasn’t. “I’ve given you an injection, but we need to get back to Atlantis right now.”
Sheppard still wasn’t breathing easily, and they had at least a thirty minute walk back to the jumper. Then they had to get to the space Gate for this planet. Rodney realized he would have to fly them back, and his heart stuttered.
“Ronon, can you carry him?” Rodney asked. “He shouldn’t walk or do anything else that would increase his heart rate. We want the epinephrine to last as long as possible, and the faster he moves the faster it will burn up.”
“Yeah.”
As Rodney grabbed the two dropped pens, Ronon bent over and, with Teyla’s help, got Sheppard across his shoulders. He angled Sheppard so that his stomach was against the back of Ronon’s head as opposed to being flat on his shoulders, which Rodney expected would be at least a little easier on Sheppard’s struggling respiratory system.
“Teyla, take point,” Rodney directed her. “I’ll follow Ronon so I can keep an eye on Sheppard.”
Teyla gave a sharp nod and immediately took off at a steady clip, not quite jogging but almost there. Ronon, despite Sheppard’s added weight, stayed right at her heels, urging her on faster. Rodney, remaining EpiPens clutched in one hand and heart pounding in his ears, hustled after them.
They’d only made it about halfway or so when Ronon suddenly stopped and called out to them as he rolled Sheppard off his shoulders and back onto the ground.
“He’s not breathing!”
Rodney cursed and fell to his knees at Sheppard’s side, heart jumping into his throat when he saw his face. Sheppard was completely unresponsive, his eyes closed and lips turning blue. Rodney repeated the previous procedure with the second EpiPen, Ronon and Teyla watching in fearful silence as he went through the countdown.
Nothing happened.
“Sheppard!” Ronon grabbed his shoulders and shook him slightly, but there was no response.
“Shit.”
Somewhere inside Rodney’s head, a voice was repeating the warnings he’d been given when he was instructed on how to inject himself. It was telling him in a distressingly clinical tone that giving Sheppard a third shot was something that should only be done under medical supervision, that there was the risk of an overdose or other adverse effects. There was an odd, clashing overlap in Rodney’s brain as his mind registered the clipped tone while also perceiving the voice as sounding like the trombone wah-wah-wah of an adult in a Charlie Brown cartoon.
He didn’t heed the warning. He didn’t care about the dangers. All that mattered was that Sheppard was dying and the stupid pens were all he had. He flicked the cap off of his last one and slammed it into Sheppard’s thigh, not realizing he was muttering “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon” under his breath.
It took a minute that lasted a lifetime before a still-unconscious Sheppard sucked in a shallow, harsh breath. Rodney immediately leapt to his feet.
“Jumper,” he said shortly. “Go!”
Ronon wasn’t particular about how he held Sheppard this time. He just got him up over his shoulders in the easiest position to hold onto and started running, Rodney and Teyla in his wake.
As the jumper came into view, Rodney surged ahead of Ronon, lungs and legs burning, with a burst of speed he might have boasted about in another situation. Instead, he ran all the way into the cockpit and threw himself into the pilot’s seat. By the time Teyla was shutting the door behind them, he already had the jumper off the ground.
Adrenaline and terror and anger might not have been the best emotions for flying, but they didn’t seem to hurt. Rodney felt a clarity of vision he’d never had when piloting a jumper before. He was sure his whole body was visibly vibrating, his muscles so tense that if someone thumped a finger against them, they might snap. But the jumper seemed to be obeying his thoughts more than his hands, and in the back of his mind he wondered if this was what flying was like for Sheppard all the time.
“Rodney,” Teyla called from the back. There was a pause, filled with tension. “Hurry.”
Her voice had been plaintive, but Rodney didn’t turn around to look at her. All of his attention was focused on flying as fast as he could toward the space Gate without killing them all. The Gate had started out as just a slightly lighter dot against the blackness of space, but that dot was growing rapidly. As soon as Rodney had been close enough to, he’d dialed Atlantis, and now the radio crackled to life.
“Rodney, how far out are you?”
Elizabeth’s voice betrayed her anxiety, the polished, professional evenness wavering almost imperceptibly. Rodney almost chuckled darkly as the flashbacks poured over him; she’d sounded exactly he same when they’d been stuck in a different space Gate with a bug latched on to Sheppard’s neck. He remembered a quote about how history didn’t repeat so much as rhyme, and again felt the insane urge to laugh.
“I’m coming in as fast as I can,” he bit out, trying to keep his twitching hands from pulling the jumper off his steady mental course. “I’m going to land in the Gate room, so you need to have everybody out of the way; I don’t know how precise this landing is going to be.” He’d already told them that. Hadn’t he already told them that? “And you need a medical team standing by.”
Sheppard was dying. Again. Had died. Again. Rodney realized he could no longer hear wheezing coming from the back of the jumper. He pushed it to go faster.
“We’re here, Rodney,” came Carson’s calm voice. “We’re ready for you.”
It had always annoyed Rodney that someone as naturally predisposed to anxiety as Carson was could then turn around and be so completely cool under pressure. Under the right kind of pressure. The man broke out in a cold sweat if you suggested taking him off-world, but radio in with the worst kind of medical crisis imaginable and suddenly he was cool as a cucumber, utterly unfazed by the insanity he had been thrown into. It didn’t seem natural, and it bothered Rodney that he couldn’t do the same thing. He could focus in a crisis, sure, but he was never calm.
They were on final approach now, and as much as his instincts railed against it, Rodney slowed the jumper down. He was still going too fast for a normal entry, too fast to fly out into the Gate room, but he couldn’t make himself go any slower. Or, rather, his anxiety wouldn’t let his mind make the jumper go any slower. Still, they managed to pop out the other side in one piece, without blasting through any of Atlantis’ walls. Teyla was opening the door before Rodney had even landed.
And then Carson and his team swarmed in. Teyla and Ronon quickly backed out of the way, toward the cockpit door, which Rodney had scrambled up to stand in. Carson was calling out orders, the medical team moving methodically, efficiently as they worked on Sheppard’s unresponsive form.
“How many Epi injections did you give him, Rodney?” Carson called.
“Three,” Rodney responded. “I had to give him the second one when he stopped breathing and it didn’t do anything, so I gave him the last one I had.”
Carson nodded, and someone handed him a syringe. He injected Sheppard with whatever it contained before doing the same with a second. Rodney’s memory supplied the possibilities: Antihistamines. Corticosteroids. Vasopressors. Unable to look away, Rodney watched as Carson intubated Sheppard and a nurse—a tiny woman, Rodney had seen her around the city before, she was barely over five feet tall—attached a hand pump to the end of the tube and started squeezing it at a steady pace. Breathing, she was breathing for Sheppard.
“Carson, he stopped breathing twice, once on the planet and once in the jumper.” Rodney didn’t understand why, but it felt important that Carson know that. “It was minutes each time.”
Carson cut him a sharp look that was full of understanding. “Got it.” He turned to his team. “Let’s get him to the infirmary, STAT! Let’s go, people!”
In what felt like the time it took Rodney to blink, the team got Sheppard onto the waiting gurney and an I.V. set up. Rodney involuntarily flinched when the ventilator nurse was suddenly boosted up onto the gurney. She straddled Sheppard to more easily keep pumping air into his body while two other nurses began speeding them toward the infirmary.
Carson was already jogging after them, but one of his team—Fowler or Fuller, something “F” and “er”—herded Rodney after them. Whether Carson had told her to or whether it was just expected that in any medical emergency Rodney would always require care, he didn’t know. But he was going to follow Sheppard no matter what, so he didn’t care if someone pretended to shoo him along while he did.
Behind him, as though it were far away, he heard Elizabeth asking Teyla what had happened, and Teyla’s muted response. But then he was out of the Gate room and into the corridor that led to the infirmary, and their voices were lost.
When he arrived, the infirmary was a flurry of activity. Well, one part of it was, anyway. Dully, Rodney noticed that the rest of the beds were empty, Sheppard the only patient. The medical staff around Sheppard’s gurney were talking, passing off information and instructions, but Rodney couldn’t focus on what they were saying. It was as if the part of his brain that processed sound was running on a delay, and if he tried to tune into one person’s voice, two more had spoken by the time he registered what the first had said. So he stopped bothering and instead tried to gauge what was going on by vocal pitch and body language.
No one gave off the impression of being alarmed, but with seasoned medical staff like Atlantis had, that didn’t really mean anything. He was pretty sure he heard someone say Sheppard was breathing again, but he couldn’t be positive. At any rate, a couple of the people at Sheppard’s bedside left and didn’t return, and Rodney took that as a positive sign.
Blindly, not taking his eyes off of the chaos around Sheppard’s body—no, not his body, around Sheppard, it was Sheppard, he was still here—Rodney sat down on an empty cot. The blazing mental clarity that had carried him this far was rapidly fading, and he felt his thoughts scattering, all of the trains that had been momentarily halted by the need for a single-track focus beginning to surge back into motion. Vaguely, he sensed Teyla and Ronon coming to stand on either side of him. Everything around him seemed muffled and slowed down, like he was underwater. Some part of his mind, small but still alert, cooly acknowledged that his hands were no longer the only parts of him shaking. Rodney stared down at his hands where they lay in his lap, watching them tremble with a sense of detachment.
Teyla placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay, Rodney?” she asked in a quiet voice. “You are shaking quite badly. Do you need to be checked out by someone?”
Rodney slowly shook his head. “Adrenaline,” he flatly replied. “Wearing off. Side effects include lethargy, dizziness, tremors. It’ll pass.” Then he let out a mirthless laugh, jerking his chin in Sheppard’s direction. “Adrenaline. Epinephrine. ‘S the same thing keeping him alive.”
In fact, he was sure that if Sheppard had been conscious, he would have very shortly been feeling the exact same sensations Rodney currently was, as the Epi injections Rodney had given him started to wear off. Rodney mused that they’d both needed the same drug to keep Sheppard alive; Rodney had just gotten his dose of it naturally.
Ronon laid a hand on Rodney’s other shoulder. “He’s gonna be okay.”
Rodney didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.
They stayed like that, unmoving, while the bustle around Sheppard slowly died down. Eventually, only two nurses and Carson were left at Sheppard’s bedside, all now moving at a much more normal pace as they tended to him. Elizabeth came in and checked on his progress, but didn’t stay; there was a crisis elsewhere that required her attention. But she threw them a smile as she exited, and Rodney felt his heart lift ever so slightly. If Elizabeth could leave and smile about whatever she’d been told, it was good news.
It wasn’t long after she left that Carson finally walked over to them.
“Sheppard’s stable now,” he told them. “We should be able to remove his tube once he wakes up.
“He’s fine?” Ronon asked, voice rough.
“He will be, yes.” Carson sighed. “His reaction was extreme; he was in severe anaphylaxis when you got back. But we have him on drugs that are countering the effects of the reaction and he’s responding well. He should be back to normal in a few days.”
Rodney heard Teyla’s sigh of relief, and the smile in her voice when she said, “That is very good news.”
“Everything’s under control here.” Carson gave them all a once over, eyes lingering on Rodney. “You three should go get some rest.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Honestly, Rodney wasn’t sure he could leave; at the moment, his brain didn’t seem to recognize that he had legs. But he was definitely sure he didn’t want to.
“There’s nothing else you can do right now.”
“No.”
“Rodney, Colonel Sheppard’s going to live,” Carson said bluntly, giving him a stern look. “He’s going to be fine, but—as you well know—it’s going to take some time for him to recover. So he won’t be conscious for a while yet.”
“He died.”
“Maybe.”
Carson sounded unconvinced and Rodney knew, deep down, that there was no proof that Sheppard had actually died. Like, heart-stopped-no-pulse died. But he’d stopped breathing. He’d stopped breathing for too long.
“He wasn’t breathing.”
“I know.”
“He was deprived of oxygen for too long.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t,” Carson repeated, more firmly this time.
“There was nothing I could do.”
Rodney was surprised to see that Carson actually looked a little upset at that. A little upset and a little frustrated.
“You did exactly what you were supposed to, Rodney. Not that astonishing, given your own allergies. But you gave him the treatment that was available and you got him back here as fast as humanly possible. There was nothing else you could do in the field, nothing else you should do without proper training.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
He hadn’t realized how helpless it would feel, from the outside looking in, watching someone’s body turn on them. It had been like trying to put out a fire with an eye dropper while a timer sped through a countdown that ended in death. His still shaking hands clenched into fists.
“Bullshit.”
Rodney frowned at the anger in Ronon’s voice. He turned to find Ronon glaring down at him, arms folded over his chest.
“You knew what was happening, Rodney.” Teyla pointed out. “Ronon and I both thought Colonel Sheppard had been injured in some way, but you recognized what had occurred and took immediate action. And you directed Ronon and I on what to do.”
“You got Sheppard breathing again. Twice.”
“And you flew us back.”
“Best you’ve ever flown,” Ronon said.
“This is not the Rodney McKay Exaltation Hour!” Rodney snapped, suddenly annoyed.
“That’d be a first,” Ronon mumbled with the hint of a smile.
“Nor is it the Rodney McKay Guilt-Trip Tour,” Carson put in, crossing his arms over his chest. “The bottom line is that Colonel Sheppard is going to be fine, the three of you made sure of that, and now you’re going to get out of my infirmary.”
“Carson—”
“If you aren’t out of here in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to sedate you and keep you locked in isolation until I’m satisfied you’ve slept enough.”
Rodney balked. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Rodney squinted at him, weighing his options, but if he were honest with himself he was only still protesting out of habit. For one, he knew Carson was right and there was no reason for him to stay now that Sheppard was stable. But he also knew he needed rest, and soon. He could feel himself crashing, every bit of adrenaline depleted and exhaustion taking its place. So he sighed and pushed himself to his feet.
Only for his legs to immediately give way.
Thankfully, Teyla and Ronon both had lightning fast reflexes, or he would have, embarrassingly, wound up on the floor. They hauled him back upright, continuing to support him between their bodies while they waited to see if he could hold his own weight. Carson, meanwhile, had gone from annoyed to concerned fast enough that Rodney wondered whether he’d given himself emotional whiplash.
“Rodney, are you hurt? Are you hurt and you didn’t tell me?”
There was annoyance in the second question, and Rodney had his answer regarding the emotional whiplash: Carson hadn’t shifted emotions so much as mixed them. It was an emotion milkshake. Rodney let out a slightly loopy huff of laughter as he got his feet under him.
“No, I’m not hurt.”
“It’s the adrenaline.”
Rodney and Carson both looked at Ronon in surprise.
“It all wore off,” he said with a shrug.
“He’s not wrong,” Rodney said in bemusement.
“We will see that he gets back to his quarters, Dr. Beckett,” Teyla assured the doctor as she began steering Rodney toward the door.
“Thank you. And if he gives you any trouble, call me and I will sedate him.”
“You’ve gone mad with power, Carson,” Rodney weakly threw over shoulder.
“Goodnight, Rodney. Sleep tight.”
Teyla and Ronon didn’t just take Rodney to his quarters, they walked him directly inside, refusing to leave until he was in bed. Rodney only protested a little, since the only thing he could think about at the moment was being unconscious. In their rush to follow Sheppard to the infirmary, none of them had bothered returning their weapons to the armory, so Ronon motioned for Rodney to hand over his holster and gun. When Rodney fumbled with the buckles, his fingers not obeying his directives, Ronon pushed his hands aside and removed it for him.
Teyla had stripped hers off in the meantime, and passed it off to Ronon as well. As Ronon left to return the gear, Teyla helped Rodney get out of his boots, having him sit on the bed while she undid the laces and tugged them off. As soon as they were off he turned and face-planted on the mattress, fully clothed. He was unconscious before Teyla even left the room.
-000000-
Sheppard was asleep when Rodney returned to the infirmary the next morning, though he had lost his breathing tube by then. Rodney had purposefully gone through his normal morning routine before going to check on him, trying to give it enough time that Sheppard might be awake when he got there. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t wake up for the entire half hour Rodney stayed. Rodney would’ve stayed longer, but he got called to the lab and, given Sheppard’s unconscious state, he’d decided to answer the page.
When he came back that afternoon, Sheppard was still out. Rodney sat down in the chair at his bedside and settled in to wait.
He’d dealt with the issue in the lab and left strict instructions that he wasn’t to be bothered for the rest of the day. Zelenka, who’d been off-world that morning, had thrown up his hands in frustration when he’d come into the lab and found Rodney there. It turned out that he’d told their team to leave Rodney alone that day, knowing he would need some time. But when a minor crisis had struck around mid-morning and the team had felt they needed either Rodney or Radek, Rodney had been the only one in the city.
Zelenka had still issued chastisements all around (even Rodney had been gently told off for not leaving the team to deal with their own mess), and the team had all mumbled apologies, looking contrite. One of the more tenured assistants, Walker—who had survived long enough that Rodney actually knew his name—had asked after Sheppard. Rodney had told him that the colonel was going to be fine. Then he’d barked out a few more orders to various assistants; reaffirmed Zelenka’s instructions that he, Zelenka, be the point of contact for the rest of the day; and headed back to the infirmary.
He didn’t have to wait long this time for Sheppard to wake up. He’d only been sitting there about ten minutes when he heard Sheppard speak.
“Hey, Rodney.”
Rodney’s head shot up, and he saw Sheppard watching him with clear, if tired, eyes. His voice was rough from the inflammation and intubation, and sounded painful. Rodney gave him a small smile as he searched his eyes for any other signs of discomfort.
“Hey. How’re you feeling?”
“Like I got punched in the throat,” he quipped. “And then stabbed in the leg.”
“Well the second one actually happened, at least. A few times.”
Sheppard gave a weak smile, then glanced around. “Where’s Teyla?”
“I don’t know; I haven’t seen her today.”
Sheppard frowned at him. “Wasn’t she just here?”
Rodney gave him a look. “She wasn’t here when I came in, and that was about ten minutes ago.”
“Oh. I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“Understandable.”
“What about Ronon?”
“Him I have seen.” Rodney checked his watch. “Right about now, he’s probably just finishing up wailing on some new Marines like you promised him he could.”
“Good. I don’t think I’m up to being his punching bag today,” Sheppard huffed.
Rodney tensed, anger inexplicably flaring inside him. “Not that you ever have to be,” he snapped.
Sheppard blinked at him. “Rodney, are you mad at me?”
“No!” Rodney shifted guiltily. He was mad, but he shouldn’t be. He didn’t even know why he was. “No, I—no, I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad at you? Don’t be stupid.”
“But you are mad.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You—you’re mad about what happened.”
“Why would I be mad about what happened, Sheppard?” Rodney replied, exasperated. “You had an allergic reaction to something you didn’t even know you were allergic to. How in the world could I be mad about that?”
“Because you always get mad at the things that scare you and the things that you can’t control. And this was both.”
Rodney stared at him in shock, feeling exposed by Sheppard’s words. Sheppard seemed surprised to have said them, too, and they looked away from each other at the same time, both fidgeting uncomfortably.
“You died,” Rodney finally said. “Or at least you were dying. Again.”
“It didn’t stick.”
Rodney snorted. “Never does with you.”
“Not so far.”
“Bastard,” Rodney muttered, without any venom.
They were both silent for a moment. Rodney could hear someone—a nurse or a patient—talking somewhere out of sight, their voice a low murmur. He wiped his palms on his thighs and shifted in his seat. Then Sheppard spoke again, this time in an uncharacteristically small voice.
“Rodney, I’m sorry.”
Rodney glanced up at him. “For dying on me? Yeah, you should be. Don’t do it again.”
“No, I’m—I’m sorry about the lemons.”
Rodney stared at him in bafflement, wondering what in the hell Sheppard was talking about. Then it suddenly hit him, and he was angry all over again.
“Are you seriously apologizing right now for teasing me?” he demanded. “Right now, from your hospital bed, having just had a tube down your throat because you stopped breathing for three minutes and forty-seven seconds—yes, I did count—right now, at this moment, you really feel the need to apologize for teasing me about lemons?”
“I thought it was just you over-exaggerating, like you do sometimes,” Sheppard shamefully admitted, with a shrug. He wouldn’t look Rodney in the eyes. “I didn’t think you were lying,” he quickly added, “but I didn’t think it was that serious. I didn’t realize—Rodney, I literally gave Mitchell a lemon to threaten you with!” he croaked, his eyes alight with pained remorse.
“I remember,” Rodney said with a dignified air. “And he actually did; waved it at me threateningly and everything one time when I wouldn’t do what he wanted.”
Horror flashed through Sheppard’s eyes before scrunched them closed in an expression of self-disgust. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“Mmm, yes, it was rather bitchy of you.”
“Rodney—”
“John, do you really think I give a damn about the jokes? Or about someone brandishing a citrus fruit at me?”
“I could have gotten you killed, Rodney.”
“Someone waving a fully intact lemon in my general direction isn’t going to kill me, Sheppard. I don’t have a contact allergy; I have to consume citrus for it to affect me. So unless you were to squeeze lemon juice on my food—”
“I would never—”
“And I know that, which is why I don’t care.”
They stared at each other, Sheppard still exuding guilt, Rodney resolute. Finally, Rodney sighed.
“Sheppard, I’ve endured much worse, as I’m sure you can imagine,” he wryly said. “I’ve never exactly been Mr. Popularity,” he added a touch bitterly.
Sheppard flinched, somehow looking even guiltier, as though realizing that he’d been contributing to some kind of life-long torture Rodney’d had to endure. “That doesn’t mean—”
“I know I can be annoying,” Rodney said, cutting him off. “I know that I can be finicky and judgmental and—and—” He remembered fake-Sam Carter’s words and recited them like a grocery list. “And petty and arrogant and bad with people. I know I can be all those things and more. But I also know that if you wanted to, you could kick me off your team.”
“Rodney—”
“Shut up and let me finish. You shouldn’t even be talking anyway.”
Sheppard paused, looking like he was going to argue. But then he nodded and closed his mouth instead.
“You could pick another scientist. Or take on a Marine, even though between Ronon and Teyla you basically have the equivalent of three of them on the team already. And Teyla could find somebody else to drag away from work when they haven’t eaten. And Ronon could find somebody else to bother when he gets bored.”
Sheppard was watching him, his expression saying he understood where Rodney was headed. Rodney looked away, staring down at his hands. They weren’t shaking today.
“So when any of the three of you tease me or mutter under your breath or even snap at me, I don’t care. Because it’s you.”
Rodney stopped then, all confessed out. He hadn’t planned on having a heart-to-heart with a convalescent Sheppard, but damned if that wasn’t where they’d wound up. He’d meant every word he’d said, but sincerity—even when delivered at a rapid-fire clip—always made him uncomfortable, and he avoided Sheppard’s gaze.
“I’d never get another scientist, Rodney,” Sheppard finally said.
“I know.”
“I mean, I’d have to start all over with breaking them in, and it took forever with you.”
Rodney met Sheppard’s eyes then, and saw the amusement in them. He gave him a haughty look.
“I doubt any other scientist would have you,” he said. “If you only knew the horror stories that are shared in the labs about our team; I don’t think there’s anyone else who’d be willing.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I mean, there are a lot of people who, y’know, would really like to get closer to Ronon or Teyla—or Ronon and Teyla, the things I’ve heard—but given all the crap we’ve gone through?” Rodney shook his head. “In fact, I believe there’s actually an unofficial list that circulates in the science departments for who would have to take my place, should it ever come to that. And people actually do things to earn a place at the bottom.”
Sheppard burst into laughter. It was short lived, quickly replaced with a cough that left him panting, his eyes watering from the pain. But he was still grinning once it subsided, his eyes twinkling behind the tears.
“Maybe we should have another scientist join us now and then,” he suggested, wheezing slightly, “let them get a taste of what it’s like.”
Rodney was faintly disturbed by the idea, and it must have shown on his face because Sheppard just managed to stop himself from laughing out loud again. He was soundlessly chuckling when Teyla and Ronon walked in.
“What’s up?” Ronon asked, seeing Sheppard’s mirth.
“I’m thinking about replacing Rodney with another scientist,” Sheppard quickly replied.
Rodney gaped at him. Teyla stared at Sheppard in open confusion, while Ronon frowned deeply.
“What?” he grunted. “Why?”
“Why would you want to replace Rodney?” Teyla echoed, bewildered.
“Especially after he just saved your life,” Ronon added, seemingly indignant on Rodney’s behalf.
It was then that Rodney realized what Sheppard was doing. He gave Sheppard a knowing look, and had it returned back at him. His lips twitched as he looked away and spoke.
“Actually, he was threatening to have other scientists join us on a rotational basis.”
Ronon wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want any more scientists,” he all but pouted.
“Do we really need that?” Teyla looked thoroughly unconvinced by the idea. “We seem to work very well with just the four of us.”
Sheppard smirked a bit at Rodney, his point made, before he answered. “No, you’re right. We don’t need another scientist,” he said pointedly.
“Good,” Ronon firmly stated. “McKay’s enough to deal with.”
“Oh, thank you,” Rodney said in mock indignation. “Thank you very much.”
“I just mean you can cover all the science stuff,” Ronon clarified. “And we can cover you. Add another scientist into the mix that we have to keep an eye on, it won’t work.”
“Point very well made,” Sheppard told him.
His voice was getting rougher, and Rodney frowned at him in concern.
“How are you feeling?” Teyla asked him.
“Better,” Sheppard said, “y’know, with the not actively trying to die and all.”
“That wasn’t great, Sheppard,” Ronon said in a dry tone.
“Not for anyone, I suspect.”
“No, it very much was not.”
“Did y’all ever figure out what it was that triggered my reaction?”
Teyla nodded. “I actually returned to the planet this morning with Dr. Villarreal from the botany department. We relocated the area where you were when you first fell ill, and she took samples from all of the plants within a three foot radius. Once she is able to test you, she should be able to identify which one you are allergic to.”
“Well, at least there’s that.”
“And we’re all getting those pen things to carry.”
Everyone turned to look at Ronon. Rodney frowned at him.
“You mean the EpiPens?”
“Yeah. I talked to Dr. Beckett and Dr. Weir about it. They’re going to make sure we all have some to carry with us when we go off-world.”
Sheppard blinked up at him. “That’s—that’s good thinking, Ronon.”
“You’re gonna teach me and Teyla how they work, okay, McKay?”
“We need to know what to do in case you are not around,” Teyla added.
Rodney was already nodding. “Yes, of course.”
Ronon rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that—is that what would happen to you, too?” he asked Rodney.
“Yeah, more or less.”
“Are you allergic to anything other than citrus fruit, Rodney?”
“No,” he replied. “Not like that. I wouldn’t have that kind of a reaction.”
Sheppard sighed. “Well, at least now we’ll know what to look for.”
Rodney opened his mouth to irritably throw out something like One of us already knew, but just then Carson appeared.
“Colonel, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon,” he greeted them. “How long have you all been here?”
“Since about this time yesterday, Doc,” Sheppard cheekily responded.
Carson shot him an unamused look. “Have you been talking for long, Sheppard?”
“Not that long.”
“You need to rest your voice; your throat has been through a lot over the past twenty-four hours.”
“It’s fine, I promise. Just a little scratchy.”
“If you don’t rest it, you’ll lose it,” Carson warned him.
Rodney watched as Sheppard’s face went through several different expressions in the span of about twenty seconds. He could tell that Sheppard was weighing the pros and cons of losing his voice. Pro: He wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. Con: He wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone. Pro: He might be able to get out of some things. Con: He might not be able to get out of some things. In the end, it looked like the Cons won out, but just barely, and Sheppard grumpily crossed his arms over his chest in acquiescence.
“Good.” Carson nodded in satisfaction, before turning on the visitors. “Now the rest of you need to leave so that he won’t be tempted to talk. And so that he can and will rest.”
“But—”
“Go,” Carson said, literally shooing them. “Get out.”
“Mad with power,” Rodney repeated, this time with a smile.
“Goodbye,” Carson said in a sing-song over his shoulder as he retreated further back into the infirmary.
They each threw a farewell wave at Sheppard, who gave them a pouty one in return before he wriggled further down in the bed. Once out in the hallway, Teyla turned to Rodney, studying him with faint concern.
“Rodney, have you eaten today?”
“Yes, I had breakfast.”
“And lunch?”
Rodney opened his mouth to respond that he had, in fact, had lunch when he realized he had not, in fact, had lunch. The mini crisis in the lab and his desire to check in on an actually conscious Sheppard had distracted him.
“Uh, no. No lunch.”
Teyla gave him an exasperated sigh. “An early dinner then, come on.” She gently took his arm and started guiding him toward the commissary.
“Early dinner means we get first dibs on the desserts,” Ronon pointed out, falling into step beside them and giving Rodney a nudge with his elbow.
Hiding his own smile, Rodney nodded gravely. “The most important food group of them all,” he said, meeting Ronon’s eyes.
“Cake,” they said in unison.
Teyla’s laughter echoed down the hall as they turned the corner toward the commissary.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagen, Ronon Dex
Word Count: 7439
Categories: gen, drama, team as family
Spoilers: Set between 2.18 (“Michael”) and 2.19 (“Inferno”); minor spoilers for “Thirty-Eight Minutes” (1.4)
Warnings: language, near-death experiences
Summary: When Sheppard has a severe allergic reaction off-world, Rodney knows exactly what to do, and the team gets a dose of reality regarding Rodney’s own allergies.
This was the second time Rodney had been in a puddle jumper with Sheppard dying in the back.
Everything had been going so well. P8C-052 was an uninhabited planet, completely free from anyone who would try to attack, capture, or kill them. It was supposed to have been a simple, leisurely excursion (or “boring,” as Ronon had called it), a little bit of variety in the middle of their usual life and death missions.
Rodney should have known better.
-000000-
“What are we looking for again?”
Sheppard was a few meters ahead of Rodney, half-heartedly studying the forest around him. He pushed aside a few limbs of a nearby tree, eyeing the plants under their shadow.
“You have the picture,” Rodney irritably reminded him. He wasn’t exactly thrilled by the assignment, either. “It’s some kind of plant one of our trading partners considers to be highly rare and extremely valuable.”
“Meaning they’re willing to trade us pretty much whatever we want for it,” Ronon grumbled.
“So Elizabeth says,” Rodney confirmed.
“I know all of that, Rodney,” Sheppard replied, annoyance in his tone. “I was asking what the plant is that we’re looking for.”
“It is the melonas shrub,” Teyla advised. “It is not common, but I would not consider it rare. It is simply only found on a small number of planets. But where it does grow, it usually does so in abundance.” Uncharacteristically, she sounded a little annoyed, too. “I am not sure why we have not found any yet.”
“It’s a weed on Sateda,” Ronon idly commented. “Grows everywhere.”
Rodney paused, throwing an uncertain glance Sheppard’s way. He was a bit perturbed to find that Sheppard looked fractionally nervous, and he noticed that Teyla appeared almost resigned, as if she half-expected they would wind up having to brave Sateda again in order to collect some shrubbery.
“Let’s hope we find it here, then,” Sheppard said. He pointed a finger at Ronon. “And don’t tell Elizabeth about Sateda. She might actually consider sending us there to get some.”
Rodney blinked at him in surprise. “What exactly are these trading partners offering us?”
“Apparently they have highly advanced shields of some kind, though they’re staying very hush-hush about the details until we prove that we can supply the—” He looked to Teyla.
“Melonas shrub.”
“The melonas shrub they’re asking for.”
“Which is why we’re on garden duty,” Ronon growled, thrashing a nearby branch like an annoyed toddler.
“Take it easy, Chewie. We’ll spar when we get back and I’ll let you wail on me a bit.”
Ronon grinned, wide and a little predatory. “Promise?”
Sheppard caught Ronon’s expression and checked himself. “Uh, maybe I’ll get you some new Marines to wail on. Either way, I’ll make sure you’re properly exercised.”
“It’s like having an overgrown puppy,” Rodney muttered to himself.
Ronon appeared to have heard him, though, and turned to Sheppard. “That’s one of those tagen-like things you showed us once, right? Furry, floppy ears, tail?”
“Yeah, the young form of one.”
Ronon looked back at Rodney with an expression of exaggerated ferocity, and gave a remarkably good imitation of a dog growl. Rodney rolled his eyes, but he also moved that so Sheppard was between them.
“The dogs you showed us were very cute,” Teyla commented, carefully pronouncing the unfamiliar word.
“They can be, especially the little ones. They come in a lot of different shapes and sizes, though, some cuter than others.” Sheppard peered into some undergrowth before continuing. “We’ve bred them for all kinds of things, so there’s a lot of varieties: hunting, retrieving, finding people, just being companions.”
“You’ve got tiny, yappy ones and you’ve got giant, Ronon-sized ones, and everything in between,” Rodney added, with only the slightest hint of disdain.
“Rodney’s more a cat person. Isn’t that right, McKay?”
“In that I prefer a pet that’s mostly independent? Yes.” He wasn’t all that fond of barking or drool, either.
Rodney checked a cluster of plants that looked vaguely like the one they were searching for, but backed away in frustration when he saw that instead of three-leafed branches, they had five.
“Pets aren’t really a thing here,” Ronon advised.
Sheppard let out a huff of amusement. “Yeah, we’ve noticed. Like most things in Pegasus, it seems animals fall on the spectrum of Eat or Be Eaten.”
“I have visited a few worlds where animals were used for entertainment,” Teyla told them, as she examined a promising looking shrub. “But in most cases where a human keeps an animal that is not for food, it is for protection or hunting.”
“It’s been proven that having a pet—a companion animal—actually improves a person’s health and increases their lifespan,” Rodney absently said. Every now and again, he missed his own cat. “Petting a cat, for example, reduces blood pressure, calms the nervous system, and causes the brain to release serotonin and dopamine.”
Ronon gave him a blank stare, while Teyla slightly raised her eyebrows in the indication that she was waiting for Rodney to elaborate.
“They’re transmitter chemicals in the body that perform a variety of func—” he began.
“They make you feel happy,” Sheppard said, cutting him off.
“Yes, they make you feel happy,” Rodney repeated, with an irritated glance Sheppard’s way.
Sheppard, however, was looking thoughtful.
“Y’know, dogs make really good therapy animals, too. Maybe we should get one for Atlantis. We definitely have enough people who need use it.”
Rodney snorted. “There are at least three people in my lab alone who are allergic to dogs, so good luck getting that cleared.”
“There’re hypoallergenic breeds, we could always get one of those.”
“Yes, by all means, let’s introduce a completely alien species to the Pegasus galaxy. I’m sure nothing terrible will come out of that idea.”
“We’d obviously get it fixed before it came here, Rodney,” Sheppard countered. “And it isn’t like we’d take the dog out of the city for any reason; it would stay there. The ecosystems of Pegasus would be completely safe.”
“And dogs aren’t completely alien,” Teyla added, giving Rodney a small smile. “We have similar creatures here, though they don’t look exactly the same.”
“And they’d most likely be genetically incompatible,” Rodney mused, starting to genuinely consider the idea of a city pet, and finding he wasn’t entirely against it. While he might have preferred a cat, if they were going to bring something over to serve as the emotional support animal for the entire city, it made more sense that it would be a dog.
“See?” Sheppard pointed at him. “You’re warming up to the idea.”
“I never said I was opposed,” Rodney primly retorted, turning to check out another plant. “I just had concerns about the practicality of such a thing, concerns that you had realistic answers for.”
“You’re totally on my side! I knew it, we can definitely convince Elizabeth of this, all we have to d—ACHOO!”
Rodney whipped around and stared at Sheppard in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sneeze before,” he said, amused. “Are you possibly allergic to dogs? Or at least talking about them?”
Sheppard narrowed his eyes at Rodney, looking like he was about to toss out a witty comeback. But something stopped him. He glanced down as though confused, before lifting a hand to his chest and looking back up at Rodney, eyes wide with fear.
“John?” Teyla asked, concerned.
But Rodney knew, somehow he already knew and he was darting toward Sheppard before he’d even made the conscious decision to move. He caught Sheppard as he collapsed, Ronon there in the blink of an eye to help Rodney lower him onto his back. Sheppard was staring up at them, terrified, clutching at his chest and throat. His body was spasming as he desperately tried to draw in air.
“Sheppard!”
Ronon was running his hands over Sheppard, as though searching for a wound, for something that would explain what was going on. Teyla, on her knees at Ronon’s side, ran her eyes over the same course, looking for damage they wouldn’t find.
Rodney ripped off his pack and fumbled for the side pocket zipper, yanking it open so hard that it broke. He shoved suddenly uncoordinated fingers into the pocket and, after two tries, managed to get hold of one of the EpiPens inside. As he extracted it, the two others that were in the pocket fell out onto the ground, but he ignored them. In one fluid motion, he popped the cap off the pen he was holding and jabbed it into the outside of Sheppard’s thigh until he heard the click. He started counting.
One, two, three, four…
“Rodney?”
“McKay—”
Rodney held up his free hand, absently noting that it was shaking slightly.
Five, six, seven, eight…
Was it his imagination, or had Sheppard stopped even trying to breathe? No—there was an attempted inhalation; labored, but an inhalation nonetheless.
Nine, ten.
He pulled the spent pen away and tossed it aside. Sheppard wasn’t wearing a tac vest today—none of them were, not for this nice, safe mission—and Rodney briskly rubbed his palm against the center of Sheppard’s chest.
“Breathe, John! Breathe, dammit!”
And Sheppard did. He sucked in a breath that was ragged and shallow, but at least he’d gotten some oxygen. As he continued to draw in air, he rolled panicked eyes toward Rodney’s face.
“Rodney?” he wheezed, voice full of fear and confusion.
“You’re having an allergic reaction,” Rodney told him, mildly amazed by how calm his own voice sounded given that it felt like a hurricane was loose inside him. He felt like he should be frantically screaming, but somehow he wasn’t. “I’ve given you an injection, but we need to get back to Atlantis right now.”
Sheppard still wasn’t breathing easily, and they had at least a thirty minute walk back to the jumper. Then they had to get to the space Gate for this planet. Rodney realized he would have to fly them back, and his heart stuttered.
“Ronon, can you carry him?” Rodney asked. “He shouldn’t walk or do anything else that would increase his heart rate. We want the epinephrine to last as long as possible, and the faster he moves the faster it will burn up.”
“Yeah.”
As Rodney grabbed the two dropped pens, Ronon bent over and, with Teyla’s help, got Sheppard across his shoulders. He angled Sheppard so that his stomach was against the back of Ronon’s head as opposed to being flat on his shoulders, which Rodney expected would be at least a little easier on Sheppard’s struggling respiratory system.
“Teyla, take point,” Rodney directed her. “I’ll follow Ronon so I can keep an eye on Sheppard.”
Teyla gave a sharp nod and immediately took off at a steady clip, not quite jogging but almost there. Ronon, despite Sheppard’s added weight, stayed right at her heels, urging her on faster. Rodney, remaining EpiPens clutched in one hand and heart pounding in his ears, hustled after them.
They’d only made it about halfway or so when Ronon suddenly stopped and called out to them as he rolled Sheppard off his shoulders and back onto the ground.
“He’s not breathing!”
Rodney cursed and fell to his knees at Sheppard’s side, heart jumping into his throat when he saw his face. Sheppard was completely unresponsive, his eyes closed and lips turning blue. Rodney repeated the previous procedure with the second EpiPen, Ronon and Teyla watching in fearful silence as he went through the countdown.
Nothing happened.
“Sheppard!” Ronon grabbed his shoulders and shook him slightly, but there was no response.
“Shit.”
Somewhere inside Rodney’s head, a voice was repeating the warnings he’d been given when he was instructed on how to inject himself. It was telling him in a distressingly clinical tone that giving Sheppard a third shot was something that should only be done under medical supervision, that there was the risk of an overdose or other adverse effects. There was an odd, clashing overlap in Rodney’s brain as his mind registered the clipped tone while also perceiving the voice as sounding like the trombone wah-wah-wah of an adult in a Charlie Brown cartoon.
He didn’t heed the warning. He didn’t care about the dangers. All that mattered was that Sheppard was dying and the stupid pens were all he had. He flicked the cap off of his last one and slammed it into Sheppard’s thigh, not realizing he was muttering “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon” under his breath.
It took a minute that lasted a lifetime before a still-unconscious Sheppard sucked in a shallow, harsh breath. Rodney immediately leapt to his feet.
“Jumper,” he said shortly. “Go!”
Ronon wasn’t particular about how he held Sheppard this time. He just got him up over his shoulders in the easiest position to hold onto and started running, Rodney and Teyla in his wake.
As the jumper came into view, Rodney surged ahead of Ronon, lungs and legs burning, with a burst of speed he might have boasted about in another situation. Instead, he ran all the way into the cockpit and threw himself into the pilot’s seat. By the time Teyla was shutting the door behind them, he already had the jumper off the ground.
Adrenaline and terror and anger might not have been the best emotions for flying, but they didn’t seem to hurt. Rodney felt a clarity of vision he’d never had when piloting a jumper before. He was sure his whole body was visibly vibrating, his muscles so tense that if someone thumped a finger against them, they might snap. But the jumper seemed to be obeying his thoughts more than his hands, and in the back of his mind he wondered if this was what flying was like for Sheppard all the time.
“Rodney,” Teyla called from the back. There was a pause, filled with tension. “Hurry.”
Her voice had been plaintive, but Rodney didn’t turn around to look at her. All of his attention was focused on flying as fast as he could toward the space Gate without killing them all. The Gate had started out as just a slightly lighter dot against the blackness of space, but that dot was growing rapidly. As soon as Rodney had been close enough to, he’d dialed Atlantis, and now the radio crackled to life.
“Rodney, how far out are you?”
Elizabeth’s voice betrayed her anxiety, the polished, professional evenness wavering almost imperceptibly. Rodney almost chuckled darkly as the flashbacks poured over him; she’d sounded exactly he same when they’d been stuck in a different space Gate with a bug latched on to Sheppard’s neck. He remembered a quote about how history didn’t repeat so much as rhyme, and again felt the insane urge to laugh.
“I’m coming in as fast as I can,” he bit out, trying to keep his twitching hands from pulling the jumper off his steady mental course. “I’m going to land in the Gate room, so you need to have everybody out of the way; I don’t know how precise this landing is going to be.” He’d already told them that. Hadn’t he already told them that? “And you need a medical team standing by.”
Sheppard was dying. Again. Had died. Again. Rodney realized he could no longer hear wheezing coming from the back of the jumper. He pushed it to go faster.
“We’re here, Rodney,” came Carson’s calm voice. “We’re ready for you.”
It had always annoyed Rodney that someone as naturally predisposed to anxiety as Carson was could then turn around and be so completely cool under pressure. Under the right kind of pressure. The man broke out in a cold sweat if you suggested taking him off-world, but radio in with the worst kind of medical crisis imaginable and suddenly he was cool as a cucumber, utterly unfazed by the insanity he had been thrown into. It didn’t seem natural, and it bothered Rodney that he couldn’t do the same thing. He could focus in a crisis, sure, but he was never calm.
They were on final approach now, and as much as his instincts railed against it, Rodney slowed the jumper down. He was still going too fast for a normal entry, too fast to fly out into the Gate room, but he couldn’t make himself go any slower. Or, rather, his anxiety wouldn’t let his mind make the jumper go any slower. Still, they managed to pop out the other side in one piece, without blasting through any of Atlantis’ walls. Teyla was opening the door before Rodney had even landed.
And then Carson and his team swarmed in. Teyla and Ronon quickly backed out of the way, toward the cockpit door, which Rodney had scrambled up to stand in. Carson was calling out orders, the medical team moving methodically, efficiently as they worked on Sheppard’s unresponsive form.
“How many Epi injections did you give him, Rodney?” Carson called.
“Three,” Rodney responded. “I had to give him the second one when he stopped breathing and it didn’t do anything, so I gave him the last one I had.”
Carson nodded, and someone handed him a syringe. He injected Sheppard with whatever it contained before doing the same with a second. Rodney’s memory supplied the possibilities: Antihistamines. Corticosteroids. Vasopressors. Unable to look away, Rodney watched as Carson intubated Sheppard and a nurse—a tiny woman, Rodney had seen her around the city before, she was barely over five feet tall—attached a hand pump to the end of the tube and started squeezing it at a steady pace. Breathing, she was breathing for Sheppard.
“Carson, he stopped breathing twice, once on the planet and once in the jumper.” Rodney didn’t understand why, but it felt important that Carson know that. “It was minutes each time.”
Carson cut him a sharp look that was full of understanding. “Got it.” He turned to his team. “Let’s get him to the infirmary, STAT! Let’s go, people!”
In what felt like the time it took Rodney to blink, the team got Sheppard onto the waiting gurney and an I.V. set up. Rodney involuntarily flinched when the ventilator nurse was suddenly boosted up onto the gurney. She straddled Sheppard to more easily keep pumping air into his body while two other nurses began speeding them toward the infirmary.
Carson was already jogging after them, but one of his team—Fowler or Fuller, something “F” and “er”—herded Rodney after them. Whether Carson had told her to or whether it was just expected that in any medical emergency Rodney would always require care, he didn’t know. But he was going to follow Sheppard no matter what, so he didn’t care if someone pretended to shoo him along while he did.
Behind him, as though it were far away, he heard Elizabeth asking Teyla what had happened, and Teyla’s muted response. But then he was out of the Gate room and into the corridor that led to the infirmary, and their voices were lost.
When he arrived, the infirmary was a flurry of activity. Well, one part of it was, anyway. Dully, Rodney noticed that the rest of the beds were empty, Sheppard the only patient. The medical staff around Sheppard’s gurney were talking, passing off information and instructions, but Rodney couldn’t focus on what they were saying. It was as if the part of his brain that processed sound was running on a delay, and if he tried to tune into one person’s voice, two more had spoken by the time he registered what the first had said. So he stopped bothering and instead tried to gauge what was going on by vocal pitch and body language.
No one gave off the impression of being alarmed, but with seasoned medical staff like Atlantis had, that didn’t really mean anything. He was pretty sure he heard someone say Sheppard was breathing again, but he couldn’t be positive. At any rate, a couple of the people at Sheppard’s bedside left and didn’t return, and Rodney took that as a positive sign.
Blindly, not taking his eyes off of the chaos around Sheppard’s body—no, not his body, around Sheppard, it was Sheppard, he was still here—Rodney sat down on an empty cot. The blazing mental clarity that had carried him this far was rapidly fading, and he felt his thoughts scattering, all of the trains that had been momentarily halted by the need for a single-track focus beginning to surge back into motion. Vaguely, he sensed Teyla and Ronon coming to stand on either side of him. Everything around him seemed muffled and slowed down, like he was underwater. Some part of his mind, small but still alert, cooly acknowledged that his hands were no longer the only parts of him shaking. Rodney stared down at his hands where they lay in his lap, watching them tremble with a sense of detachment.
Teyla placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay, Rodney?” she asked in a quiet voice. “You are shaking quite badly. Do you need to be checked out by someone?”
Rodney slowly shook his head. “Adrenaline,” he flatly replied. “Wearing off. Side effects include lethargy, dizziness, tremors. It’ll pass.” Then he let out a mirthless laugh, jerking his chin in Sheppard’s direction. “Adrenaline. Epinephrine. ‘S the same thing keeping him alive.”
In fact, he was sure that if Sheppard had been conscious, he would have very shortly been feeling the exact same sensations Rodney currently was, as the Epi injections Rodney had given him started to wear off. Rodney mused that they’d both needed the same drug to keep Sheppard alive; Rodney had just gotten his dose of it naturally.
Ronon laid a hand on Rodney’s other shoulder. “He’s gonna be okay.”
Rodney didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.
They stayed like that, unmoving, while the bustle around Sheppard slowly died down. Eventually, only two nurses and Carson were left at Sheppard’s bedside, all now moving at a much more normal pace as they tended to him. Elizabeth came in and checked on his progress, but didn’t stay; there was a crisis elsewhere that required her attention. But she threw them a smile as she exited, and Rodney felt his heart lift ever so slightly. If Elizabeth could leave and smile about whatever she’d been told, it was good news.
It wasn’t long after she left that Carson finally walked over to them.
“Sheppard’s stable now,” he told them. “We should be able to remove his tube once he wakes up.
“He’s fine?” Ronon asked, voice rough.
“He will be, yes.” Carson sighed. “His reaction was extreme; he was in severe anaphylaxis when you got back. But we have him on drugs that are countering the effects of the reaction and he’s responding well. He should be back to normal in a few days.”
Rodney heard Teyla’s sigh of relief, and the smile in her voice when she said, “That is very good news.”
“Everything’s under control here.” Carson gave them all a once over, eyes lingering on Rodney. “You three should go get some rest.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Honestly, Rodney wasn’t sure he could leave; at the moment, his brain didn’t seem to recognize that he had legs. But he was definitely sure he didn’t want to.
“There’s nothing else you can do right now.”
“No.”
“Rodney, Colonel Sheppard’s going to live,” Carson said bluntly, giving him a stern look. “He’s going to be fine, but—as you well know—it’s going to take some time for him to recover. So he won’t be conscious for a while yet.”
“He died.”
“Maybe.”
Carson sounded unconvinced and Rodney knew, deep down, that there was no proof that Sheppard had actually died. Like, heart-stopped-no-pulse died. But he’d stopped breathing. He’d stopped breathing for too long.
“He wasn’t breathing.”
“I know.”
“He was deprived of oxygen for too long.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t,” Carson repeated, more firmly this time.
“There was nothing I could do.”
Rodney was surprised to see that Carson actually looked a little upset at that. A little upset and a little frustrated.
“You did exactly what you were supposed to, Rodney. Not that astonishing, given your own allergies. But you gave him the treatment that was available and you got him back here as fast as humanly possible. There was nothing else you could do in the field, nothing else you should do without proper training.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
He hadn’t realized how helpless it would feel, from the outside looking in, watching someone’s body turn on them. It had been like trying to put out a fire with an eye dropper while a timer sped through a countdown that ended in death. His still shaking hands clenched into fists.
“Bullshit.”
Rodney frowned at the anger in Ronon’s voice. He turned to find Ronon glaring down at him, arms folded over his chest.
“You knew what was happening, Rodney.” Teyla pointed out. “Ronon and I both thought Colonel Sheppard had been injured in some way, but you recognized what had occurred and took immediate action. And you directed Ronon and I on what to do.”
“You got Sheppard breathing again. Twice.”
“And you flew us back.”
“Best you’ve ever flown,” Ronon said.
“This is not the Rodney McKay Exaltation Hour!” Rodney snapped, suddenly annoyed.
“That’d be a first,” Ronon mumbled with the hint of a smile.
“Nor is it the Rodney McKay Guilt-Trip Tour,” Carson put in, crossing his arms over his chest. “The bottom line is that Colonel Sheppard is going to be fine, the three of you made sure of that, and now you’re going to get out of my infirmary.”
“Carson—”
“If you aren’t out of here in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to sedate you and keep you locked in isolation until I’m satisfied you’ve slept enough.”
Rodney balked. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Rodney squinted at him, weighing his options, but if he were honest with himself he was only still protesting out of habit. For one, he knew Carson was right and there was no reason for him to stay now that Sheppard was stable. But he also knew he needed rest, and soon. He could feel himself crashing, every bit of adrenaline depleted and exhaustion taking its place. So he sighed and pushed himself to his feet.
Only for his legs to immediately give way.
Thankfully, Teyla and Ronon both had lightning fast reflexes, or he would have, embarrassingly, wound up on the floor. They hauled him back upright, continuing to support him between their bodies while they waited to see if he could hold his own weight. Carson, meanwhile, had gone from annoyed to concerned fast enough that Rodney wondered whether he’d given himself emotional whiplash.
“Rodney, are you hurt? Are you hurt and you didn’t tell me?”
There was annoyance in the second question, and Rodney had his answer regarding the emotional whiplash: Carson hadn’t shifted emotions so much as mixed them. It was an emotion milkshake. Rodney let out a slightly loopy huff of laughter as he got his feet under him.
“No, I’m not hurt.”
“It’s the adrenaline.”
Rodney and Carson both looked at Ronon in surprise.
“It all wore off,” he said with a shrug.
“He’s not wrong,” Rodney said in bemusement.
“We will see that he gets back to his quarters, Dr. Beckett,” Teyla assured the doctor as she began steering Rodney toward the door.
“Thank you. And if he gives you any trouble, call me and I will sedate him.”
“You’ve gone mad with power, Carson,” Rodney weakly threw over shoulder.
“Goodnight, Rodney. Sleep tight.”
Teyla and Ronon didn’t just take Rodney to his quarters, they walked him directly inside, refusing to leave until he was in bed. Rodney only protested a little, since the only thing he could think about at the moment was being unconscious. In their rush to follow Sheppard to the infirmary, none of them had bothered returning their weapons to the armory, so Ronon motioned for Rodney to hand over his holster and gun. When Rodney fumbled with the buckles, his fingers not obeying his directives, Ronon pushed his hands aside and removed it for him.
Teyla had stripped hers off in the meantime, and passed it off to Ronon as well. As Ronon left to return the gear, Teyla helped Rodney get out of his boots, having him sit on the bed while she undid the laces and tugged them off. As soon as they were off he turned and face-planted on the mattress, fully clothed. He was unconscious before Teyla even left the room.
-000000-
Sheppard was asleep when Rodney returned to the infirmary the next morning, though he had lost his breathing tube by then. Rodney had purposefully gone through his normal morning routine before going to check on him, trying to give it enough time that Sheppard might be awake when he got there. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t wake up for the entire half hour Rodney stayed. Rodney would’ve stayed longer, but he got called to the lab and, given Sheppard’s unconscious state, he’d decided to answer the page.
When he came back that afternoon, Sheppard was still out. Rodney sat down in the chair at his bedside and settled in to wait.
He’d dealt with the issue in the lab and left strict instructions that he wasn’t to be bothered for the rest of the day. Zelenka, who’d been off-world that morning, had thrown up his hands in frustration when he’d come into the lab and found Rodney there. It turned out that he’d told their team to leave Rodney alone that day, knowing he would need some time. But when a minor crisis had struck around mid-morning and the team had felt they needed either Rodney or Radek, Rodney had been the only one in the city.
Zelenka had still issued chastisements all around (even Rodney had been gently told off for not leaving the team to deal with their own mess), and the team had all mumbled apologies, looking contrite. One of the more tenured assistants, Walker—who had survived long enough that Rodney actually knew his name—had asked after Sheppard. Rodney had told him that the colonel was going to be fine. Then he’d barked out a few more orders to various assistants; reaffirmed Zelenka’s instructions that he, Zelenka, be the point of contact for the rest of the day; and headed back to the infirmary.
He didn’t have to wait long this time for Sheppard to wake up. He’d only been sitting there about ten minutes when he heard Sheppard speak.
“Hey, Rodney.”
Rodney’s head shot up, and he saw Sheppard watching him with clear, if tired, eyes. His voice was rough from the inflammation and intubation, and sounded painful. Rodney gave him a small smile as he searched his eyes for any other signs of discomfort.
“Hey. How’re you feeling?”
“Like I got punched in the throat,” he quipped. “And then stabbed in the leg.”
“Well the second one actually happened, at least. A few times.”
Sheppard gave a weak smile, then glanced around. “Where’s Teyla?”
“I don’t know; I haven’t seen her today.”
Sheppard frowned at him. “Wasn’t she just here?”
Rodney gave him a look. “She wasn’t here when I came in, and that was about ten minutes ago.”
“Oh. I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“Understandable.”
“What about Ronon?”
“Him I have seen.” Rodney checked his watch. “Right about now, he’s probably just finishing up wailing on some new Marines like you promised him he could.”
“Good. I don’t think I’m up to being his punching bag today,” Sheppard huffed.
Rodney tensed, anger inexplicably flaring inside him. “Not that you ever have to be,” he snapped.
Sheppard blinked at him. “Rodney, are you mad at me?”
“No!” Rodney shifted guiltily. He was mad, but he shouldn’t be. He didn’t even know why he was. “No, I—no, I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad at you? Don’t be stupid.”
“But you are mad.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You—you’re mad about what happened.”
“Why would I be mad about what happened, Sheppard?” Rodney replied, exasperated. “You had an allergic reaction to something you didn’t even know you were allergic to. How in the world could I be mad about that?”
“Because you always get mad at the things that scare you and the things that you can’t control. And this was both.”
Rodney stared at him in shock, feeling exposed by Sheppard’s words. Sheppard seemed surprised to have said them, too, and they looked away from each other at the same time, both fidgeting uncomfortably.
“You died,” Rodney finally said. “Or at least you were dying. Again.”
“It didn’t stick.”
Rodney snorted. “Never does with you.”
“Not so far.”
“Bastard,” Rodney muttered, without any venom.
They were both silent for a moment. Rodney could hear someone—a nurse or a patient—talking somewhere out of sight, their voice a low murmur. He wiped his palms on his thighs and shifted in his seat. Then Sheppard spoke again, this time in an uncharacteristically small voice.
“Rodney, I’m sorry.”
Rodney glanced up at him. “For dying on me? Yeah, you should be. Don’t do it again.”
“No, I’m—I’m sorry about the lemons.”
Rodney stared at him in bafflement, wondering what in the hell Sheppard was talking about. Then it suddenly hit him, and he was angry all over again.
“Are you seriously apologizing right now for teasing me?” he demanded. “Right now, from your hospital bed, having just had a tube down your throat because you stopped breathing for three minutes and forty-seven seconds—yes, I did count—right now, at this moment, you really feel the need to apologize for teasing me about lemons?”
“I thought it was just you over-exaggerating, like you do sometimes,” Sheppard shamefully admitted, with a shrug. He wouldn’t look Rodney in the eyes. “I didn’t think you were lying,” he quickly added, “but I didn’t think it was that serious. I didn’t realize—Rodney, I literally gave Mitchell a lemon to threaten you with!” he croaked, his eyes alight with pained remorse.
“I remember,” Rodney said with a dignified air. “And he actually did; waved it at me threateningly and everything one time when I wouldn’t do what he wanted.”
Horror flashed through Sheppard’s eyes before scrunched them closed in an expression of self-disgust. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“Mmm, yes, it was rather bitchy of you.”
“Rodney—”
“John, do you really think I give a damn about the jokes? Or about someone brandishing a citrus fruit at me?”
“I could have gotten you killed, Rodney.”
“Someone waving a fully intact lemon in my general direction isn’t going to kill me, Sheppard. I don’t have a contact allergy; I have to consume citrus for it to affect me. So unless you were to squeeze lemon juice on my food—”
“I would never—”
“And I know that, which is why I don’t care.”
They stared at each other, Sheppard still exuding guilt, Rodney resolute. Finally, Rodney sighed.
“Sheppard, I’ve endured much worse, as I’m sure you can imagine,” he wryly said. “I’ve never exactly been Mr. Popularity,” he added a touch bitterly.
Sheppard flinched, somehow looking even guiltier, as though realizing that he’d been contributing to some kind of life-long torture Rodney’d had to endure. “That doesn’t mean—”
“I know I can be annoying,” Rodney said, cutting him off. “I know that I can be finicky and judgmental and—and—” He remembered fake-Sam Carter’s words and recited them like a grocery list. “And petty and arrogant and bad with people. I know I can be all those things and more. But I also know that if you wanted to, you could kick me off your team.”
“Rodney—”
“Shut up and let me finish. You shouldn’t even be talking anyway.”
Sheppard paused, looking like he was going to argue. But then he nodded and closed his mouth instead.
“You could pick another scientist. Or take on a Marine, even though between Ronon and Teyla you basically have the equivalent of three of them on the team already. And Teyla could find somebody else to drag away from work when they haven’t eaten. And Ronon could find somebody else to bother when he gets bored.”
Sheppard was watching him, his expression saying he understood where Rodney was headed. Rodney looked away, staring down at his hands. They weren’t shaking today.
“So when any of the three of you tease me or mutter under your breath or even snap at me, I don’t care. Because it’s you.”
Rodney stopped then, all confessed out. He hadn’t planned on having a heart-to-heart with a convalescent Sheppard, but damned if that wasn’t where they’d wound up. He’d meant every word he’d said, but sincerity—even when delivered at a rapid-fire clip—always made him uncomfortable, and he avoided Sheppard’s gaze.
“I’d never get another scientist, Rodney,” Sheppard finally said.
“I know.”
“I mean, I’d have to start all over with breaking them in, and it took forever with you.”
Rodney met Sheppard’s eyes then, and saw the amusement in them. He gave him a haughty look.
“I doubt any other scientist would have you,” he said. “If you only knew the horror stories that are shared in the labs about our team; I don’t think there’s anyone else who’d be willing.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I mean, there are a lot of people who, y’know, would really like to get closer to Ronon or Teyla—or Ronon and Teyla, the things I’ve heard—but given all the crap we’ve gone through?” Rodney shook his head. “In fact, I believe there’s actually an unofficial list that circulates in the science departments for who would have to take my place, should it ever come to that. And people actually do things to earn a place at the bottom.”
Sheppard burst into laughter. It was short lived, quickly replaced with a cough that left him panting, his eyes watering from the pain. But he was still grinning once it subsided, his eyes twinkling behind the tears.
“Maybe we should have another scientist join us now and then,” he suggested, wheezing slightly, “let them get a taste of what it’s like.”
Rodney was faintly disturbed by the idea, and it must have shown on his face because Sheppard just managed to stop himself from laughing out loud again. He was soundlessly chuckling when Teyla and Ronon walked in.
“What’s up?” Ronon asked, seeing Sheppard’s mirth.
“I’m thinking about replacing Rodney with another scientist,” Sheppard quickly replied.
Rodney gaped at him. Teyla stared at Sheppard in open confusion, while Ronon frowned deeply.
“What?” he grunted. “Why?”
“Why would you want to replace Rodney?” Teyla echoed, bewildered.
“Especially after he just saved your life,” Ronon added, seemingly indignant on Rodney’s behalf.
It was then that Rodney realized what Sheppard was doing. He gave Sheppard a knowing look, and had it returned back at him. His lips twitched as he looked away and spoke.
“Actually, he was threatening to have other scientists join us on a rotational basis.”
Ronon wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want any more scientists,” he all but pouted.
“Do we really need that?” Teyla looked thoroughly unconvinced by the idea. “We seem to work very well with just the four of us.”
Sheppard smirked a bit at Rodney, his point made, before he answered. “No, you’re right. We don’t need another scientist,” he said pointedly.
“Good,” Ronon firmly stated. “McKay’s enough to deal with.”
“Oh, thank you,” Rodney said in mock indignation. “Thank you very much.”
“I just mean you can cover all the science stuff,” Ronon clarified. “And we can cover you. Add another scientist into the mix that we have to keep an eye on, it won’t work.”
“Point very well made,” Sheppard told him.
His voice was getting rougher, and Rodney frowned at him in concern.
“How are you feeling?” Teyla asked him.
“Better,” Sheppard said, “y’know, with the not actively trying to die and all.”
“That wasn’t great, Sheppard,” Ronon said in a dry tone.
“Not for anyone, I suspect.”
“No, it very much was not.”
“Did y’all ever figure out what it was that triggered my reaction?”
Teyla nodded. “I actually returned to the planet this morning with Dr. Villarreal from the botany department. We relocated the area where you were when you first fell ill, and she took samples from all of the plants within a three foot radius. Once she is able to test you, she should be able to identify which one you are allergic to.”
“Well, at least there’s that.”
“And we’re all getting those pen things to carry.”
Everyone turned to look at Ronon. Rodney frowned at him.
“You mean the EpiPens?”
“Yeah. I talked to Dr. Beckett and Dr. Weir about it. They’re going to make sure we all have some to carry with us when we go off-world.”
Sheppard blinked up at him. “That’s—that’s good thinking, Ronon.”
“You’re gonna teach me and Teyla how they work, okay, McKay?”
“We need to know what to do in case you are not around,” Teyla added.
Rodney was already nodding. “Yes, of course.”
Ronon rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that—is that what would happen to you, too?” he asked Rodney.
“Yeah, more or less.”
“Are you allergic to anything other than citrus fruit, Rodney?”
“No,” he replied. “Not like that. I wouldn’t have that kind of a reaction.”
Sheppard sighed. “Well, at least now we’ll know what to look for.”
Rodney opened his mouth to irritably throw out something like One of us already knew, but just then Carson appeared.
“Colonel, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon,” he greeted them. “How long have you all been here?”
“Since about this time yesterday, Doc,” Sheppard cheekily responded.
Carson shot him an unamused look. “Have you been talking for long, Sheppard?”
“Not that long.”
“You need to rest your voice; your throat has been through a lot over the past twenty-four hours.”
“It’s fine, I promise. Just a little scratchy.”
“If you don’t rest it, you’ll lose it,” Carson warned him.
Rodney watched as Sheppard’s face went through several different expressions in the span of about twenty seconds. He could tell that Sheppard was weighing the pros and cons of losing his voice. Pro: He wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. Con: He wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone. Pro: He might be able to get out of some things. Con: He might not be able to get out of some things. In the end, it looked like the Cons won out, but just barely, and Sheppard grumpily crossed his arms over his chest in acquiescence.
“Good.” Carson nodded in satisfaction, before turning on the visitors. “Now the rest of you need to leave so that he won’t be tempted to talk. And so that he can and will rest.”
“But—”
“Go,” Carson said, literally shooing them. “Get out.”
“Mad with power,” Rodney repeated, this time with a smile.
“Goodbye,” Carson said in a sing-song over his shoulder as he retreated further back into the infirmary.
They each threw a farewell wave at Sheppard, who gave them a pouty one in return before he wriggled further down in the bed. Once out in the hallway, Teyla turned to Rodney, studying him with faint concern.
“Rodney, have you eaten today?”
“Yes, I had breakfast.”
“And lunch?”
Rodney opened his mouth to respond that he had, in fact, had lunch when he realized he had not, in fact, had lunch. The mini crisis in the lab and his desire to check in on an actually conscious Sheppard had distracted him.
“Uh, no. No lunch.”
Teyla gave him an exasperated sigh. “An early dinner then, come on.” She gently took his arm and started guiding him toward the commissary.
“Early dinner means we get first dibs on the desserts,” Ronon pointed out, falling into step beside them and giving Rodney a nudge with his elbow.
Hiding his own smile, Rodney nodded gravely. “The most important food group of them all,” he said, meeting Ronon’s eyes.
“Cake,” they said in unison.
Teyla’s laughter echoed down the hall as they turned the corner toward the commissary.