A Chemistry Thing
By K Hanna Korossy
"How is this?"
Rodney McKay looked over at the computer screen and scowled. "Oh, sure, that'll work just fine...if all we're looking for is a weapon. So what if it'll skip over every non-weapon defensive measure, scientific advance we could use as weapons or defense, and locations of any extra ZedPMs. It's not like we're desperate or anything."
"If we make the parameters too broad, it will take too long to scan the complete database," Zelenka argued.
"It's already going to take too long to scan the complete database--do I have to remind you this is heavily dependant on us getting lucky, and considering our luck of late, I wouldn't be betting on us. It's also one of the few options we have, and it's going to be fairly useless if you narrow the parameters to only search for a weapon!"
Radek muttered something in Czech and went back to his computer. Rodney tightened his lips, knowing better than to ask for a translation, and did the same.
A minute passed of quiet typing.
"So, what is bothering you today?"
"Besides the imminent arrival of the Wraith and the destruction of Atlantis and deaths of everyone in the expedition?"
"Yes."
Rodney gave a sigh of exasperation. "Is this a Czech thing, this suicidal disinterest in the fact that you're probably going to be dead in two weeks? Because I have to tell you, it's really not an appealing trait."
"Death is death," Zelenka said philosophically. "It will come when it comes. You did not answer my question."
"Nothing, all right? There is nothing bothering me. Everything is dandy, hearts and flowers and...cute little bunny rabbits. Now can we get back to work?" It took a minute of staring at the computer screen before it made sense again, and Rodney punched in another line, jaw clenched. His bandaged finger hit two keys at once, and with a soft curse, Rodney scrolled back to fix it.
"What has Major Sheppard done this time?"
"What are you blathering about?" Rodney didn't look up but his fingers stopped again.
"The computer program is not the problem. Kavanaugh is off-world looking at a possible alpha site, and you did not have to stay in the infirmary yesterday. It must be Major Sheppard," Radek said reasonably.
"What must be Major Sheppard--have you gone insane? I knew it. The stress has gotten to you, hasn't it. I knew that delicate brain of yours couldn't stand this kind of pressure."
"Rodney--"
"No," Rodney put up a hand, "for your information, it's not Major Sheppard. It couldn't be Major Sheppard because I haven't even seen the man in two days. I have no idea what he's doing. I mean, how many times can you check to make sure all the guns are loaded and jumpers are gassed up, none of which, by the way, is going to do us any good when the Wraith get here. Not that anybody listens to logic like that around here, especially Major Sheppard. If I'd seen him recently, which I haven't."
"So Major Sheppard is not the problem," Radek said blandly.
"Of course not," Rodney fumed. "Now, are we done discussing our absent military commander so we can concentrate on this program? It's not like we're in a hurry or anything, but I'd kind of like to live to see my next birthday."
Zelenka managed a shrug that was mostly facial. "I have done all I can here--one of us should go down to the mainframe in the control room."
"Yes," Rodney waved at him impatiently, "Go, go. Drive Elizabeth crazy for a while."
Radek unplugged his computer and scurried out, obviously eager to depart.
Sure, why not, Rodney glared at his screen. Why should anybody stick around? It wasn't like little things like friendship really mattered. That was such a fifth grade concept, anyway, right up there with toilet humor and pretending you didn't care about those short skirts the girls had started wearing. You collected and traded friends like bubble gum cards, and who needed that? On Earth, Sheppard wouldn't even have talked to a guy like him, and Rodney wouldn't have cared. Well, not until he'd have realized there was a working brain under all those military trappings and a surprising sense of humor and...
And who had ever heard of a head scientist and ranking military goon being friends, anyway? Oh, sure, it had seemed to work for a while, through missions where they'd saved each others' lives a few times, going through the nightmare of the Genii invasion together, sharing a few meals and drinks and late night talks about nothing that had been deeper than any other conversations he'd had in his life. Didn't mean they were friends. Friends came to see you when you ended up in the infirmary and checked on you to see how you were doing during a crisis, they didn't disappear for days on end. Yes, everyone was busy those days with the Wraith coming, Rodney had still just thought... It didn't matter. Comrades, maybe--yes, that was a good word. They were comrades, fighting on the same side. But friends? It was ridiculous. There was no chemistry at all.
The door softly swooshed open behind him, and Rodney frowned irritably at the screen. "Back so soon? Did Elizabeth kick you out already?"
"Not recently," came the slightly amused reply, in unaccented, American tones.
Rodney jerked around in surprise, taking in the black-clad, relaxed figure standing in the doorway, holding a tray of food. "I thought you were Radek," he said blankly.
"That's a new one." Sheppard moved into the lab, setting the tray down on the closest table.
Rodney followed his motion, uncomprehending but suddenly a lot less dispirited.
"You've gotta get out of the lab more if we're all starting to look the same to you," Sheppard was still going on. "I've got a couple of inches on Dr. Z, and the hair..." He shuddered, then drew himself up, chin held high. "I'm a lot better looking, too."
"In your dreams," Rodney retorted absently. "What are you doing here?"
One eyebrow went up, Sheppard's version of a silent drawl. "Brought you some dinner. Actually, us some dinner. Wouldn't want you fainting in here or anything."
It took effort not to smile. "Thanks, but I ate already." Petulantly, Rodney turned back to his computer.
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I..." Huh. "Well, okay, I didn't, but that doesn't mean--"
"Sit." John had snuck up beside him and proceeded to push him lightly down onto the stool behind him, then held up a plate. "Eat."
"What is it?" Rodney peered suspiciously at the food, because every glower he was directing at Sheppard was bouncing harmlessly off the major's easy demeanor.
"Chicken and dumplings. Or it tastes like chicken anyway. I had them put extra sauce on it for you, just the way you like it." There was teasing in his voice but no mockery.
The fact was, Rodney did like extra sauce, and chicken and dumplings. The plate was still slightly steaming, too, not congealed into a cold lump like it usually was when it had been sitting in the commissary for a while. How John had noticed and remembered his preference, let alone knew he hadn't eaten in the first place--that was the part Rodney was having trouble wrapping his mind around. But the food smelled good and he was hungry, and figuring out the jungle that was John Sheppard's mind could wait. Grudgingly, Rodney took the plate and dug in.
Sheppard placed a glass of milk on the worktable, then retrieved a plate and glass of his own, settling on the seat Zelenka had recently evacuated. Rodney's eyes narrowed. "Radek put you up to this, didn't he?" He smirked, understanding now. "That conniving little foreigner--whatever he said to you, just...disregard it completely. The stress is getting to him."
True bafflement--and he did know the difference-puckered Sheppard's forehead. "O-kay. If it makes you feel any better, though, I haven't seen Dr. Z since the meeting we had two days ago."
Rodney paused, a forkful of food inches from his mouth, but John was clearly telling the truth. Which meant he was back to square one, wondering why, in the midst of the Wraith crisis, the two of them were sitting there calmly eating dinner. Or one of them calmly, anyway.
"'So, what've you been doing today, Major Sheppard?'" John finally spoke up in bright tones, continuing normally, "Why, it's nice of you to ask, Dr. McKay. I've been working on getting at least two pilots trained for every jumper we've got. We still don't have enough with the gene, but Doc thinks enough of 'em will take so we'll have the pilots we need by the end of the week. The only problem is, some of them drive like it's their dad's Olds, all square turns and sloppy descents and ascents. You've been one of my best students so far, which isn't exactly good news."
This had absolutely nothing to do with his work, yet Rodney found himself listening with interest. Ignoring the childish sarcasm, of course. "What about the scientists--have you tried any of the ones with the gene to see if they have some sort of natural aptitude or interest?"
Sheppard cocked his head. "Your people are kinda busy right now, Rodney. This is what we're supposed to do, protect you guys so you can do your work."
It was said matter-of-factly, with none of the sarcasm some of the others of the military had shown the "eggheads" of the city. Which from John Sheppard didn't surprise him. What did was the anger that welled up inside Rodney, this time at an assertion that would have pleased him another day. "We're all in this together, Major--if you all die defending us, we won't exactly be better off, will we?" he snapped. "Every life matters."
Sheppard looked genuinely startled, plate drooping in his hand as he seemed to forget about it. "Hey, easy, I didn't say we were gonna start doing kamikaze runs or anything. But this is our job, Rodney--it's what we're trained for. That means we have a better chance of surviving it than...those who aren't."
Okay, valid point. Rodney reluctantly backed down. "I'm not saying you should start a draft, but when the attack comes, most of the scientists won't have anything to do but sit and wait to become Happy Meals--if some of them can be helpful and they're interested, they should have the chance to help defend themselves."
Sheppard was giving him a hard look but finally nodded. "I'll take that into consideration."
"Fine."
A beat. Then, casually, "How's your finger? Beckett said it was second degree burns?"
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask when John had talked to Carson, but Rodney had an idea he'd just be embarrassed by the answer. He glanced at the wrapped appendage, bent it as far as it would go, and wrinkled his nose. "It hurts."
"Sorry."
"Considering we have three hive ships on the way to Atlantis for dinner, it's not one of my main concerns. But..." he glanced up briefly, "...thank you."
Sheppard just nodded, thankfully dropping it before Rodney felt utterly self-centered. So much for disinterest, although now that he considered it, he wasn't surprised John had heard about the minor lab accident. It hadn't taken Rodney too long to hear about the little workout incident a few weeks back, either. The one that had John walking funny for a few days and Rodney managing to find a lot of activities requiring Sheppard's assistance...seated.
The major had already managed to clear his plate, and he reached over to swipe a piece of chicken from Rodney's, who frowned but said nothing.
"Actually, something funny happened during training this morning--Atkins was practicing vertical descents, and he kept worrying he was gonna land on somebody. So Ford got this extra jumpsuit, stuffed it, and tied some boots onto the end. He stuck it up against the jumper after it landed, so it looked like somebody was half under the thing. Atkins took one look and I thought his eyes were gonna fall out of his head."
Despite himself, Rodney snorted a laugh. "You have no idea how comforting I find it that even two weeks away from certain death, you find the time for grade school pranks. Really gets me right here." He thumped a fist against his chest.
John's smile grew. "Admit it, you would've done it first if you'd thought of it."
"I don't...well, maybe."
"Uh-huh."
Rodney lost another piece of chicken to questing fingers, and drew his plate farther away from Sheppard.
John grew serious as he chewed. "So...you really think it's gonna be certain death?"
Rodney lost what was left of his appetite. "I'm assuming there are more ZedPMs out there, and we don't know a tenth of what the city holds yet, but as it stands right now..."
A silent moment passed, then Sheppard slowly nodded. "Yeah."
They would keep looking for options until the end, and Rodney would rant and complain as he always did, even as he pulled answers out of his magic hat. But here, in the confidentiality of just the two of them, a moment of honest admission and shared unspoken fears felt good. Felt, actually, like something that could only be shared with a friend.
The lazy smile soon made a return. "So, what've you been up to in the meantime?"
Now he wanted an update? "I'll have a report on the database scanning in twenty-four hours," Rodney answered guardedly, scraping the last bits of food from his plate. He'd need the energy to keep working.
Sheppard rolled his eyes. "I don't want a report, I'm just...curious how it's been going."
He'd had to search for a word there. Which meant Sheppard was making this up as he went along, too, looking for a connection rather than information. Rodney felt himself slowly unbend at the thought. He wasn't the only one figuring this out along the way.
Just a dinner between friends. Rodney took a deep breath, mentally tossing the summary he'd be giving to Elizabeth the next day in favor of brutal candor.
"The short answer is, not good. Atlantis' database is... think a few hundred times larger than every information system on Earth combined. And they don't think like we do, unsurprisingly, so all the data are arranged in ways that don't even begin to make sense to us, so any kind of search program we write has to be built from the ground up using completely different rules of logic. We don't even know what key words or files to look for. For all we know, the instructions to build a ZedPM are listed under recipes and we'll never find them."
John had listened intently, and sat a moment absorbing his answer. "Is there anybody better at that than you and the guys you have working on it?"
"No. What does that--"
"Then you're doing the best you can, same as my boys. It's all we can do, McKay. If it works, great. If not," there was that grin again, "it was a wild ride."
It wasn't exactly a platitude he'd be framing to put on his wall but, oddly enough, after some reflection, it did make Rodney feel better. A wild ride--it had been that, and he wouldn't have given it up for anything, even without some of the unforeseen benefits, like a best friend. If he'd only had one for the last few months of his life, that had been worth more than he could ever quantify.
Ridiculously cheered, Rodney grimaced at John. "I don't suppose you thought to bring dessert."
"Well, you'd suppose wrong then." A dip into his pocket produced two squashed, wrapped squares of brownie. Rodney's eyes lit with delight at the sight, and he immediately plucked the less-flattened one from Sheppard's hand. With the glass of cold milk and the company, it was one perfect moment in an imperfect day.
As he chewed on the brownie, Rodney considered the soldier sitting across from him once more, old in ways McKay wasn't, young in others Rodney would never know, and yet as comfortable a companion as any he'd known his life, including scientific peers and fellow geniuses. Yeah, maybe they wouldn't have been friends on Earth, but they had chosen to be so here despite likelier alternatives and, well, that said something.
A lot, actually.
Another ten minutes and he really would have to get back to the computer, and John back to his training. But they still had a little more time, a few more weeks, and Rodney didn't want to waste them. He leaned back on his stool, crossing his arms.
"Actually, now that you're here, there's something I wanted to enlist your...expertise for. It's come to my attention that Kavanaugh has been compiling complaints against Elizabeth. It seems only fair to give him something to really complain about, don't you think? Anyway, I was thinking..."
