No Contest
By K Hanna Korossy
Sitting in the jumper, John's labored breathing behind me, Elizabeth's worried queries coming from the headset in front of me, for the first time I can remember I was speechless.
My hands hadn't stopped moving, though, not once since I'd locked Carson out of the main infirmary and stolen his only patient. They ran over the controls now even as my mind did the rest. The jumper came to garish Technicolor life, and I nudged it into motion as I keyed the bay doors below us to open.
A weak groan came from behind me as the jumper started moving, and I finally found my voice.
"Hang on, Major, we'll be there soon." Like he was some kid who was whining for the family trip to be over instead of a man who was dying. My best friend who was dying. I swallowed. "Just...hang on."
"Rodney, think about what you're doing. The major needs medical care--taking him anywhere is just going to make him deteriorate faster."
We'd already had this discussion and it hadn't been any more enlightening then. I finally picked up the headset and put it on. "You mean he's going to die today instead of tomorrow--tell me if I bring him back, there's some chance he's not going to die."
Elizabeth was silent for a moment. Trying to think of some diplomatic way to say there might still be some hope even though Carson had been very clear on that point. The man could make an attack of fungus seem like the black plague, but he couldn't make bad news any gentler. Death was just...death. Cessation of life. No more Major Sheppard.
Maybe doctors could accept that sometimes the machines they worked on were irreparably broken, but no engineer worth his calculator ever would.
The shuttle had descended through the opened doors and hovered in front of the gate. I'd already dialed in the address, and the blue shimmer of the event horizon filled my view screen. I know Elizabeth would have already tried to put the shield up, but the jumper controlled the gate now. Not that that would have stopped me for long, either. 
"Rodney--"
John muttered something behind me, and even though he'd gone beyond coherence a few hours ago, I still strained to hear. But it died down just as quickly into a wet cough. His lungs were already full of liquid--how long could a man breathe like...
"Rodney, please."
I think she'd been saying something I hadn't been listening to, and I wasn't about to now. "I have to go, Elizabeth," I said, sounding calm even though my stomach was doing a very good job of trying to wedge itself into my throat. And then I shoved the controls forward and the jumper shot through the gate, to the one last hope I had of saving us both.
*****
It was bound to happen sooner or later. I just hadn't even for a moment thought it would happen to him.
We'd just gotten back from the mission, this one to some pastoral little planet that was excruciatingly boring and offered nothing more technologically advanced than dung-fueled campfires and possibly the foulest-smelling livestock it's ever been my misfortune to inhale around. The whole planet was an odiferous hell, and I was sure my nose would never be the same again as we stepped out into the clean air of Atlantis. When Major Sheppard started coughing, I assumed he was trying to clear his nasal passages as I was.
But he didn't stop.
He was turning blue by the time Beckett and his little flock arrived. I'm pretty sure I had gone white by then, and with Carson puffing and red-faced, we were doing a pretty good job of recreating John's native flag. I prefer Canada's red-and-white, myself: blue is bad, very bad. I kept trying to coax John to give up the color, propping him upright so he could breathe easier. He never does listen to me. His fingers were leaving bruises on my wrist, though, so I took that as a request to stay. Carson just had to work around me.
They did get the cough to stop, although it took an oxygen mask and a shot of something to do it. The medics took the major away on a stretcher to the infirmary, and Carson immediately started doing tests.
He met us soberly just a few hours later, when we finally came out of quarantine with a clean bill of health, with the results. It was some new bug that was like a fast-acting form of cystic fibrosis, fluid in the lungs, complete respiratory failure, yadda, yadda. I never did like listening to long explanations; give me the bottom line any day. This time it was that the major had about forty-eight hours to live, give or take a dozen depending on if they took extreme measures. Let me translate that: they meant respirators, resuscitation--life, and I use that term loosely, on a machine starting as early as another twenty-four hours. No other options.
That was when I started looking for other options.
I went to the lab, locked the door, and started working. When Radek knocked about a half-hour later, I let him in--he'd brought food with him, that conniving little Czech--but I locked the door again after him. Twenty-four hours could be a very long time, but right now it felt...very, very short. A deadline, emphasis on "dead." It sickened me to remember glibly defining that word for Samantha Carter when it had been her friend at stake. I'm impressed she didn't punch me.
Focus. I had to focus.
We played with the idea of using the stasis chamber like the one we'd found the old Elizabeth in. It would stop any physiological decay indefinitely, and believe me, I was tempted. But with no treatment in sight, it was just trading one machine for another. John wouldn't have wanted that any more than all those tubes keeping him alive. We scratched that one off quickly.
There was still a great deal of Atlantean data we'd downloaded from various labs that we hadn't sorted through, and for all I know it might contain the cure for cancer, AIDS, and cardiovascular disease. One little bug from a planet the Ancients had clearly visited could easily be in the database, too. But Radek calculated it would take approximately one thousand, two hundred and ninety-three days for the two of us to sort through even the basic topics, let alone the contents, and, gee, that was about one thousand, two hundred and ninety-two days more than we had just then.
We could always go back to the planet to collect samples, try to nail down the little sucker that was turning the major's lungs into sponges, but Elizabeth and Carson both said no to that. Even in HazMat suits, there was always the danger of exposure to something or bringing it back with us, and the chances of pinning down the source of infection in twenty-four hours, let alone developing a cure from it, were just about nil. Another one down.
There were some Atlantean devices we had yet to discern the functions of, and some sort of healing device was always a possibility. The Goa'uld had stolen one from some race, after all. But despite cutting my own arm and trying everything we had on it every way we could think of, the only results we got were a holographic image of my cut, a breakdown of the chemical components of my blood, and a patch of my skin around the cut turning blue.
Did I mention how much I hate the color blue?
I went to visit John that evening, hoping maybe the contact would, I don't know, trigger some latent brilliant idea. He was still a little cyanotic, speaking of evil blueness, shut away in an oxygen tent that had the dual benefit of keeping him breathing and not contagious. But Carson said contact was okay, just no sharing the same air or kissing. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Scottish humor. I would have groaned except I saw the way he looked at John before leaving us alone.
John was conscious, which I hadn't expected. I would have come to see him sooner then--God knows it's terrifying enough facing Carson's needle collection without being sick on top of it. Lying there alone, contemplating your death...I started thinking about ways to move our operations down to the infirmary. Anything to keep from thinking about who was lying there in the bed.
"Rodney." I kicked myself for making him start the conversation: the major's voice wasn't very strong and Carson said he'd start coughing again if he talked too much. I stepped forward, hesitated, gave his arm a comradely pat.
"Carson says you're doing...dandy. Yes, I think that was his word, dandy. I believe it means fine, although who knows what he ever means? It's not like 'wee' or 'bum' or 'auld' are in our vocabulary. Well, I guess maybe 'bum,' but--" Did I mention I babble when I'm nervous?
"Rodney." It was stronger this time, commanding. And wry. John sounded so normal for a moment, I almost convinced myself it was all a mistake. Until I looked at him.
I shut up, a bowling ball somehow inexplicably lodged in my throat.
"Look after them."
I blinked. These were the shining pearls of wisdom he was wasting precious air to impart? I scowled back. "'Look after them'? What would I ever do without your insight, Major? Here I had planned to gate off to another world, maybe that pungent one you picked up your hitchhiker on, find a comfortable cave, and wait out the whole Wraith thing, but since you asked so nicely--"
He shook his head, looking frustrated, but what shut me up were the warm fingers that found my wrist again, right near the bruises they'd left before. Neither of us were touchers, one of the many things I appreciated about John Sheppard, so when he did grab on to me, let alone when it took most of his energy to do so, I paid attention. "I need to know..."
I grimaced, leaning closer. "What?"
"...in good hands." His head, lifted with the effort to ground into my thick skull that this was important, fell back to the pillow. He shook my arm, or maybe he was just trembling. "Promise."
He wanted to leave his people in good hands. I got that. The only thing I couldn't figure out was why on earth he would choose me. Don't get me wrong, I am the smartest person on Atlantis, possibly even on all the planets we've visited so far, and I don't think it's immodest to say I've saved our lives a few times over with some of the ideas I've had or equipment I've made functional. But when it came to actually taking care of people, of protecting them or making sure they're okay or, God forbid, figuring out what their needs were...well, I'm fairly certain John could have made a better choice for his bequest. Like most everybody else in the city. Well, besides Kavanaugh.
"McKay."
It was the third time he'd said my name, and I was chagrined he needed to keep reclaiming my attention. I focused on him, pretending not to see that even our short talk had worn him out, and nodded with more confidence than I felt. "Yes, of course. I promise. I'll look after them. Even Bates, although so help me, if he gets on my case one more time about that little explosion in the lab last month, all bets are off."
That actually drew a small smile. And for one very brief second, I felt about a hundred feet tall.
There was one small flaw in this whole "Rodney McKay looking after everyone in Atlantis" idea, however, and loath as I am to complain, I didn't mention it. But just who was going to be watching my back while I was busy watching everyone else's?
It would have been too late to ask, though, even if I'd wanted to. John was already asleep.
It was the last conversation we had. Three hours later, when he slipped into a deep unconsciousness Carson said he probably wouldn't wake from again, I went back to the lab, locked myself in, and didn't even let Radek in this time.
*****
It wasn't fair. The statistical improbability of visiting other worlds and never bringing back an alien virus--or introducing one to the natives thereof--was...well, very high. The SGC has already faced this problem several times, once reducing nearly all of Cheyenne Mountain to a bunch of cave dwellers, and you'd think they'd have learned from that, but no. It's incredible how much denial the military mind engages in...not that, admittedly, we've had much choice here. Considering our lives were mostly dependent now on finding a fully charged ZedPM to repel the inevitable Wraith attack, we didn't have many alternatives to being out there exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and...er, you get the idea. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
But, really, it shouldn't have surprised us when it turned around and bit us in the rear.
The part I really didn't expect was that John Sheppard, with that hyperactive ATA gene and a masochistic obsession for staying in shape, would be the most vulnerable of us. I mean, you would have thought somebody like me would have been the likeliest victim, with all my allergies and a decided interest over the years in developing my mind rather than my body. I really should have been the one to get sick.
Oh, God, I wish I'd been the one to get sick.
I let the pity-party go on precisely one minute, then got back to work.
Okay, so excluding anything we had in the city or on that petri dish of a planet, what did that leave? Other planets. I started going one by one through the ones we knew of and any potential resources they had.
Teyla's planet. Village ruins. I don't think so.
The planet with the kids. They did have a ZedPM, but that had seemed to be their only treasure. No, their secret to youth was an early death, and that rather defeats the whole purpose.
The Genii homeworld. Yeah, right.
The planet with the mist aliens. Well, that would work if we'd be content with the illusion John was okay. Considering the way his illusions turned out, I think not. Besides, I've grown rather fond of the real thing.
And then there was Proculus.
"When McKay finds out, he's gonna kill me."
"Athar will protect you."
John had shared that exchange as a funny aside over some drinks, not one of my favorite memories. But maybe...
I didn't like it. In fact, I hated it. Chaya and I hadn't exactly parted on warm and fuzzy terms, and the idea of asking her for anything galled and worried me. But it was also the only idea I had, and if it would save John's life, I'd go to the lady's planet and build her a whole shrine.
Two minutes later I had woken Elizabeth and was explaining my idea.
I will give her this: she listened. Asked a few questions. Thought about a few seconds. And then very nicely said no.
"Why not?" I tried to sound neutral but I was mad and she knew it. I'd finally found an alternative to Carson's little doomsday prophecy and the answer was no? Was it me or was this insane?
"She's too much of an unknown, Rodney. We don't know what she's capable of--we don't even know if she could help the major. She didn't seem very interested in helping us before."
"Yes, well, that was before she and Major Sheppard became...involved. I can't imagine 'her people' wouldn't include her boyfriend."
Elizabeth gave me that stern look I always thought was supposed to remind me of my mother and make me feel ashamed of myself. She'd never met my mother. "Rodney, Chaya and the major..."
"Yes, yes, but the fact is, she is an Ancient. She destroyed whole Wraith attack parties with her mind. If she wants to, she can help."
"If she wants to. That's a big if, Rodney. After last time, I'm not comfortable with having her back in the city, and the major isn't well enough to go to her. I'm sorry, if I thought there was a chance of her helping..." She was shaking her head sorrowfully.
I have never in my life hated diplomacy as much as at that moment. "We can at least go ask her--what's the harm in that? I'm not doing anything else right now." Nothing but sitting here watching my friend die. In all, I was up for a change of plans.
"We can't spare you right now." Elizabeth was going for a compliment, but I knew what she was trying to do and it wouldn't work.
"Elizabeth, we're talking about the major's life," I hissed.
"And I'm talking about yours. We can't risk losing you, now more than ever. I'm sorry, but I don't trust her. I can't let you go."
I stared at her a long minute, feeling my blood pressure rise, until calm resolve took its place. "Fine," I said civilly. "Thank you for hearing me out."
She nodded, looking apologetic but pleased that I'd seen the light. Oh, yes, I had. I knew exactly what I had to do now.
Carson was in his office when I got down to the infirmary. It didn't take much to lock him inside and scramble any outgoing intercom messages. The beauty of it was, he wouldn't even know it until he tried to leave. With any luck, I'd be long gone by then.
John was a little trickier. Not that he put up any sort of protest as I disconnected all the wires and tubes--and the less said about that part, the better. No, it was the sheer inconvenience of getting even one skinny, unconscious major from the infirmary to the jumper bay. It was possible I could carry him, though knowing myself, I had my doubts. Rolling him out of there was a lot more workable.
In five minutes, I was drenched with sweat but John was on a gurney, the oxygen tent more or less in place, and we were out of there.
It's amazing how much you can get away with if you look like you belong there. Granted, there weren't as many people in the hallways at that time of night, but the few we encountered gave the major a sad look, me a sympathetic one, and then kept going, never stopping to wonder why an astrophysicist was wheeling an unconscious Air Force major anywhere in the middle of the night. Maybe denial is catching.
I'm not sure what tipped Elizabeth off, but we had just reached the jumper bay when I heard her calling me over the headset. I promptly took it off and dropped it on John's legs--he didn't seem to mind. I opened up the closest jumper, sweated through another transfer, this time from the gurney to one of the padded benches in the back, then shoved the gurney out into the empty bay. I left the oxygen tent with it; at this point, getting sick was the least of my worries. My last sight as I keyed the door to close was of the hanger doors opening and Bates appearing with several armed men behind him. I waved them good-bye before the door sealed us in. Yeah, they could still shoot at us, but--A--the jumper is fairly heavily armored and--B--I was counting on their not resorting to deadly force to keep us alive. Not that logic is one of the military's strengths, but I figured that one was pretty obvious.
And so they just stood and watched us take off, Elizabeth's voice frantic in my ear until we crossed the event horizon and left Atlantis behind.
*****
Chaya was waiting for us, as lovely and frigid as ever.
No more pretending she didn't know exactly what was going on on her planet and the space above it, which is good because I wasn't in the mood for games. Still, it did give me a moment's satisfaction when she actually looked surprised to see me walking out of the jumper. She'd probably been expecting John for another make-out session.
"Chaya." I nodded.
"Doctor McKay." She didn't.
I could hear the major's every breath behind me, each one painful. I'm sure it didn't feel any better for him. I swallowed my pride yet again. "We need your help."
That ever-so-calm eyebrow went up. "I have told you, Doctor--"
Expediency trumped politeness. "Okay, before you go into that 'I can only protect my people' spiel, let me rephrase that." I stepped aside, waved back at the open jumper. "He needs your help."
I got another suspicious look for that--mistrust everywhere I go; I can't understand it--then she stepped closer so she could look inside the jumper. I knew the minute she saw John because the lady actually paled. It was the first time I came close to not disliking her.
I plunged into the story as she walked past me and up into the jumper, her eyes only for the major now. But I knew she was listening. Even as she laid a hand on his chest, she looked up at me.
"You have no way to heal him?"
I swallowed the sarcastic reply that just begged to be uttered and met her gaze head on. "No. He's not going to survive until tomorrow if you can't help him."
She looked at the major again with those same doe eyes she gave us when we asked for help last time. "He is not one of my people, Doctor. I can do nothing for him, as I have told you."
My jaw set. Ten thousand-year-old Ancient or not, she was not going to win this fight. She hadn't even begun to see a determined Rodney McKay. "Actually, what you said was you're not allowed to do anything for others. That implies ability."
She pulled her hand back and stood. "It does not matter. Either way I would be stopped."
"Stopped from helping, or punished afterwards for doing so?" I shot back.
I will give her this: the lady isn't stupid. Her eyes narrowed. "You wish me to help him even if it may cost me my world?"
I licked my lips, praying John's influence lasted a little longer than Captain Kirk's ever seemed to, then took a page from their book and bluffed. "I'm sorry, I thought what you had between you meant something, from the way Sheppard talked, but hey, if it was just about the..."
The object of our conversation started coughing again, that deep, sodden cough that scared me more than I was willing to admit. Dismayed, I forgot what I was saying, then jumped off the train of thought completely and lurched forward into the jumper when it didn't seem John would be stopping anytime soon. I was already cursing myself for not having brought the oxygen tent, after all. The only thing I could do now was prop him up so he didn't drown in his own fluid, and that had worked so well the last time.
Chaya was watching us, but at that point I just didn't care. Elizabeth had been right, she wasn't going to risk herself to help, which meant I'd not only shortened John's life by I didn't know how many hours, but the way he was balled up against me trying to suck in some air, I'd also made what he had left considerably less pleasant. Angry and sick and more than a little scared, I pulled him higher and turned him so his side was against my chest, then pounded his back. One of the things I'd been doing when I'd been busy not coming up with ideas to save John, was looking up everything I could find on cystic fibrosis. If I hit just the right spot...
He turned red, then choked up a wad of something I didn't look at too closely. It did seem to help, though, because he went quiet after that. And limp. I'd have checked for a pulse, except he was still breathing with that wet gasping sound I...well, despise really wasn't a strong enough word. Feeling like I'd stopped breathing, myself, I patted the headful of now-wilted hair and slumped back against the seat, one arm still around John to keep him from falling over. Or maybe me. I'd lost track which of us was dying here.
"He is very ill."
I'd almost forgotten about her. I would have preferred she weren't there, actually, if she was going to make stupid observations like that, but I couldn't seem to summon the energy to care. John was dying right there next to me, his head lolling on my shoulder, and what did it really matter what Ancient Barbie had to say? I sighed, feeling very, very old. "Yes."
"The Others would not let me help him, even if I wished to."
I tilted my head back tiredly to look up at her. "Then it wouldn't hurt to try, would it?" But even as I said it, I realized for the first time I could see actual emotion in her eyes. Whatever little affair they had going on that I didn't want to know about, she cared about him.
Despite myself, I softened a little.
"Look, you and he shared...something. Maybe that's sort of made him one of your people, like an honorary position. Maybe they won't even care about one person. One of your friends, Oma...whatever, she's brought someone I know back to life. All I'm asking for is a little cure. Please, I'm...I'm begging you."
John muttered something under his breath, as if delivering the coup de grâce for my case.
Maybe he did. Chaya slowly nodded. "Lay him down."
I'm not an optimist. The way I figure it, you plan for the worst and you'll never be disappointed. My genius often saved the day nevertheless, but usually only after I'd publicly given up all hope and kept working anyway.
Now, as I laid John Sheppard down as gently as possible on the narrow bench seat and stepped back, I didn't dare hope. Maybe he was too far gone and she wouldn't be able to help him, or maybe the others really would stop her. I didn't know, had no idea what the odds were, had no clue what I would do if this didn't work. But not for the first time those last few months since we'd reached Atlantis, I prayed, and it wasn't to Athar.
Chaya started to glow.
John hadn't told me too much about their, um, encounter after he got back from Proculus, not even over several drinks, but from what I gleaned it had involved a lot of glowing. That was how she'd gone back to her planet, too, from Atlantis, lit up like a Christmas tree. Apparently, everything the Ancients did involved twinkling. Show-offs.
The light grew, until I took a few steps back and shielded my eyes with my arm, but even then I couldn't make out Chaya's or John's shape anymore. It reminded me of some silly B-grade movies--the first Star Trek movie and Cocoon came to mind--but my sarcasm failed me this time. I just couldn't make fun of what was, bluntly, John's last chance.
I don't know how long the glowing lasted; long enough to leave little ghosts dancing over my corneas when it started to fade, but it did fade away. John and Chaya reappeared, lying down and bent over respectively in pretty much the same position as before the lightshow started. She didn't even look tired as she straightened up.
I stepped forward. Remember that not-hoping bit? Neither did I. "Is he--?"
"He will heal."
John didn't wait long to back up her claim. I stared, fascinated, as he took a deep breath without sounding like he was underwater. His color looked better, too, pink now instead of blue. I really like pink. Vastly superior to blue. Another breath, followed by a deep sigh of comfort. That was what finally convinced me--John would have choked trying to do that five minutes before. I'd become a man of simple needs that day: that one act left me with my own afterglow.
"He will still require sleep to regain his strength, but the illness is gone."
I realized I was being rude, and while that rarely bothered me, the lady had earned better. I tore my gaze away to meet Chaya's. She wasn't looking at me, though. John would have become insufferable if he'd known how mesmerizing he'd become. Her Glowiness leaned over to lay a hand on his forehead, then on his chest, and whatever she felt must have been good because she smiled.
No point in her having all the fun, right? I slid the few steps back to the jumper bench and reached down to feel the major's pulse. I didn't have to be Carson to know the strong and steady beat was a good sign, as was the warmer skin under my fingers. I slipped my hand quickly behind my back to keep the sudden tremor hidden, and cleared my throat as I looked up at Chaya. I was embarrassed to remember some of the remarks I'd lobbed at John about his teenage crushes on older--much older--women, but right now I could see the attraction. "Thank you, for..." I waved my hand vaguely down toward our slumbering major. I never had been good at this, not even when I meant it. "And I see you're, uh, still here."
A small shake of her head. "They did not interfere. Perhaps you were right, Dr. McKay, and John has become one of my people."
I narrowed my eyes at that. "Uh, you know he can't stay, right? I mean, I'm sure he would if he could, but we've got a defense to plan against a Wraith attack, some missions we need to go on first--oh, and then there's that poker game we never really finished--so it's really not the best time." Not to mention that the whole inter-species thing would never work, but maybe it was best not to bring that up just then.
But she was shaking her head again. "I know he won't stay. He would not be happy here, not now. Perhaps one day he will return." She looked at him again, and this time I had to work at not rolling my eyes. He really was Captain Kirk for all the effect he seemed to have on women, no matter what the species. What did they see in him? It certainly wasn't the hair.
I nodded respectfully. "Perhaps." When Hell froze over and the Devil started selling snowballs, but I wasn't one to destroy a person's dreams. Especially not a person who had just done me a very big favor and could always undo it.
She nodded back to me, farewell, and then walked past me, off the jumper. By the time I turned to watch her leave, she was already gone.
And just like that, the two of us were alone, not dying, and free to go home.
In a minute.
I sank down on the edge of John's bench. He was skinny enough that I fit easily. I didn't look at him, didn't look at anything really even as I glanced around the jumper, then finally scrubbed my face with my hands. "I didn't think she'd do it, you know," I confessed to my sleeping audience. "You all have this ridiculous confidence that my ideas will always work and I'll save the day, but do you know how often that's sheer desperation talking? Half those ideas I'm just making up because the thought of failing terrifies me. And it was bad enough when we were talking about a big project or funding for the next year, but now it's lives..." My voice caught. Probably on that knot in my throat. I rubbed my eyes again, feeling grit in them. "Do you have any idea what that's like?"
No answer. I glanced at the major, shaking my head at the contented expression on his face. Probably dreaming about his girlfriend's glowing tentacles. All that was missing was a goofy smile and some drooling. Well, it was probably for the best; it had been a stupid question anyway. I'm pretty sure he knows a lot more about holding lives in his hands than I ever would.
I slouched forward, my arms propped on my knees, hands hanging. "So of course I had to try...it was the only choice I had left," I said reasonably to thin air. "Unlike some others I can name, I wasn't ready to concede it was over. But did I really expect her to do it?"
No. But I was done with True Confessions. Time to go home.
I stood, wearily, and hit the button to close the jumper hatch. Took one last look at my passenger before turning toward the cockpit. "You would have done the same thing," I said quietly as I went.
"Yeah."
I started, whirled back. "Major... Are you...don't tell me you've been..."
"Shh." He slurred even that, and never opening his eyes, rolled onto his side. "'M tryin' t'sleep."
"But..." ...he was already out. I sputtered, glaring at him. That never worked when he was awake and, unsurprisingly, it wasn't very effective when he was asleep, either. He had always been one of the few I neither intimidated nor infuriated. I think when I realized that was when I first started liking him.
Harrumphing, I pulled his blanket up around his shoulders, then went up front to take us home.
Getting rid of that ridiculous knot in my throat took a lot longer.
*****
Elizabeth had not been happy.
When even Bates sits in on the meeting, gun in hand and looking like he'd give a month's pay to use it, you know it's bad. It didn't seem to matter that Carson had forgiven me as soon as he'd gotten a good look at my cargo--no, someone still had to be the fall guy. Honestly, after the day I'd just had, siccing a hungry pack of Wraiths on me would have been anti-climactic, and Elizabeth knew it. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to try.
"...you did was dangerous and irresponsible." I had sort of tuned out the first part. "If we'd lost you, too--"
"Which you didn't."
Her glare grew a little more frigid and Bates stirred by the door. Now that there wasn't any risk of hitting the major, I wasn't so sure about the not-shooting-me part. "You didn't know that when you left. We don't even know if Chaya really is who she says she is ..."
"She is," I said smugly.
I was ignored this time. "--and for all we knew, you could have been flying into a trap. You wouldn't have helped Major Sheppard at all then."
"Elizabeth, she cured him."
Bates shifted again. I wondered if he was rethinking his allegiances.
"And I am glad, really. But that doesn't mean the risk you took was conscionable."
"She cured him."
Elizabeth leaned forward over her desk. "Rodney, I think I've given you a fairly loose rein since we've been here, and so far I haven't regretted that. But if you don't respect when I do draw the line, our relationship is going to have to change."
I understood, I really did. It just didn't change a thing. I leaned forward, too, and I think my weariness showed this time. "Elizabeth, I'm sorry. If I could have gone with your blessing, believe me, I would have preferred that. But I couldn't just sit around here, not while there was a chance, and I think you know that, too."
We stared at each other for a long moment. I wasn't too worried about the outcome; I had what I wanted. Ultimately, she did, too. She just had to save face while getting it, while I never worried about useless things like that. She'd give me a slap on the wrist and life would go on. "Life" being the key word here.
She straightened, crossed her hands behind her back. "You're confined to quarters for the next forty-eight hours."
I sat up straight, too--there were slaps on the wrist, and then there punishments that didn't sound like much but that hit where it hurt. Like not being there when the person whose life I'd just saved could finally thank me. "Elizabeth ..."
"I'm sorry. I have to make sure this doesn't happen again. Are we clear?"
It was hard to pry the word out through my clenched jaw. "Crystal."
She nodded, looked contrite for a moment, then firmed up again as I just glared at her. She hadn't liked my crossing her, maybe hadn't liked that her decision had been wrong. Or maybe she'd just been scared, too, but this was unfair and she knew it. Another nod at Bates, and he stepped aside, ready to escort me to my room for my prison sentence.
"Rodney."
I had stood and started for the door, and turned back now, still glaring.
"This confinement is barring any duties that need your personal attention, of course."
I exchanged a quick glance with Sgt. Bates, wondering if he'd just heard the same thing I had. From the barest hint of a smile, I guessed he had. I swung back, trying to look disgruntled still. "That's very...generous."
She bowed her head in agreement, and also smiled.
It took ten minutes before Radek could find something in the infirmary that needed my personal attention. Sgt. Bates didn't seem to mind escorting me down there, either, promising to post someone at the infirmary door to escort me back when I was done. My, wasn't it nice how we were all sticking to the formalities. The poor, bored marine would probably be there, too, even though we both knew he'd be waiting a long time.
Carson snagged me on the way in for a few tests, murmuring unhappily about contagions and foolish heroics, but without heat. I figured if that foul-smelling planet hadn't killed us, ten minutes breathing the same air as the major would be unlikely to. Still, since we were keeping up appearances, I suppose the tests were important, too, and most of them coincidentally could be carried out on the bed across from the one John was sleeping in, oblivious to the fuss he'd caused. Although, I guess technically I had been the one to stir up things with my, er, borrowing him and a puddlejumper and then taking down the shield and ignoring Elizabeth's orders... Come to think of it, maybe I'd gotten off easy with forty-eight hours confinement.
At any rate, I passed the tests, and so did John. I wish I had a picture of Carson's face when he found no trace of the bug or of respiratory damage in his previously fatally ill patient. I described three times everything Chaya had done and I still don't think he would have believed me if not for the proof snoring a few feet away from him. At the rate John was recovering, he would probably be free to go before I was.
Still, a little...observation was still in order. Released from Carson's clutches, I got busy with the urgent matter Radek had brought to my attention, also conveniently located just a few feet from the major's bed. I was shin-deep in the supply cabinet I was taking apart when Teyla arrived to visit our fearless leader.
"He seems to be sleeping well," she said after thirty seconds in his scintillating company.
"Mm-hmm," I agreed willingly. "I think Beckett's only keeping him here because he still can't believe he was wrong."
Teyla smiled. "And how are you, Dr. McKay?"
"Me?" I was surprised by the question. "Oh, I'm doing fine. Just, uh, I have all this...important work to be doing." I waved at the remains of the cabinet.
"Ah," she said wisely, not fooled for a second. "I will leave you to your task then, and the major to his sleep."
"Right." I waved to her with my screwdriver as I went back to work.
Ford was next, sneaking in as if he wasn't sure he was allowed to be there. I raised my eyes to heaven and motioned him over.
"How's he doing?" It was said in a loud whisper.
"He's fine," I answered in kind. "Is there some reason why we're talking like this?"
Ford fidgeted. "I didn't want to wake him."
"Ah. Well, considering this morning his lungs looked like Swiss cheese and you could hear him coughing clear down to the control room, I think the major's going to be resting for a little while longer and it'll probably take more than a visitor or two to wake him."
"No, it won't."
That was starting to become an annoying habit, John's catching me off-guard like that. Ford and I both turned to stare at him, Ford smiling, me scowling.
"Go back to sleep," I said sharply. "You still sound like you've swallowed sandpaper."
"Feels like it." He stretched sleepily, eyes barely open but seeing, actually seeing us. Or, well, Ford, anyway. John nodded at him. "'Member my orders?"
"Yes, sir," Ford nodded, puffing a little. "That's why I'm here, sir."
"Good." And he was gone again, asleep in mid-yawn.
So what if he didn't even notice me standing there? I was still the first one he'd talked to. He was probably still just too disoriented to know what was what. Personally, I've often been mistaken for Ford. I turned to glower at him. "What was that about?"
He blinked. "What? Oh, nothing, just something the major asked me to do for him before. It's cool now."
"'Nothing, just something,'" I repeated acidly. "Yes, well, I can see why Major Sheppard would trust an assignment to your staggering intellect. Did you need anything else?"
He got the hint. "Uh, no, sir. Oh, uh, how about you?"
"How about me what?"
"Can I get you anything, Doc? You had dinner yet?"
Come to think of it, I hadn't, and my stomach had no shame. It growled loudly even as I opened my mouth to say I was just fine.
Ford smiled at me knowingly, and before I could say a word, called, "I'll be right back," and jogged out of the room.
Still scowling, I turned back to John. "Him, you could talk to, but for me, the person who saved your life and has been waiting patiently here because I have nothing better to do than play Atlantean carpenter, you can't even open your eyes for one minute. Is that a nice way to treat your best friend?"
John snuggled further under the blanket but didn't wake up. I always suspected he was lazy. I reluctantly moved closer to feel his pulse and temperature, and listen up-close to his breathing. Whatever Chaya had done, it seemed to be permanent. I took a breath, then sniffed.
"Fine. You ignore me, I'll ignore you. I have plenty of work to do, anyway." The cabinet's knobs were intricately designed and I could already foresee they would need plenty of study.
Ford brought a tray of food, which smelled good enough that I decided to be merciful and not share with him the list of his every shortcoming I'd been compiling while he was gone. After dinner, I got back to work, and eventually found the cause of the, er, problem. A little nick in the corner of one door kept it from closing as smoothly as the other one. A dire difficulty I soon had well under control.
"How's it goin', Rodney?"
Beckett's Scottish purr just north of my ear nearly made me drop the panel I was holding onto my foot. Muttering curses nonetheless, I told him darkly, "Someone should tie a bell around your neck."
"Aye, it's been tried before," he said pleasantly. The man was incorrigible. He took a seat beside me on another, non-disassembled cabinet. "I hear from the lieutenant that Major Sheppard was awake for a moment."
"It's the military mind," I said icily. "Neither sleet nor snow nor alien viruses nor dead of sleep will keep them from checking to make sure their orders are being followed."
"I thought that was the postman."
"I improvised." I finally noticed what he was sitting on and gave an irritated wave. "Get off that or I'll have more than one to fix."
Carson bounced in place as if testing my claim, then kicked his heels back against the door. One popped open; the other, now wedged shut, didn't. "Oops," he said calmly.
I opened my mouth, shut it again when I realized what he was doing, and sighed. "Look, as much as I appreciate the conspiracy to keep me busy until my house arrest is finished, would it be too much to ask that you please find something else a little more interesting to break?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Carson said, sliding off the cabinet. "I just came to see how you were doing."
I frowned. "Me?"
"Who else am I talking to?"
"What about the major?"
"Aye, of course, him, too." And he did make a show then of checking exactly what his machines were already telling him.
I sat up straighter. "First Teyla, then Ford, now you..." I felt the blood drain out of my face at a sudden thought. "Am I sick? Did I catch the killer croup, too? That's why everybody's so worried about me, isn't it? I'm doomed...she hates me. She'll never..."
"Rodney!" The force Carson said my name with made me think he'd been trying to get my attention while my panic was spiraling out of control. Still choking on it, I looked at him, desperate for some good news. "You're not sick."
Huh. That was good news. My heart began to slow again. "I'm not?"
"No. You're perfectly fine. The major just asked us to keep an eye on you--I suspect he didn't think it would just be while he slept, but he wasn't exactly plannin' on things turnin' out like this, either."
"Us?" My brain was still moving a little sluggishly after that nearly near-death experience.
"Teyla, Aiden, me, I don't know who else." Carson grinned. "He said you needed a lot of looking after."
"Oh." Oh. Of course. To me, he entrusted the entire city. Me, it took three people to look out for. I didn't know whether to be insulted or touched. Really, really touched.
"Oh, indeed. So if you're done with your furniture-fixing, we'll find you something else to work on in here, and there'll be no skippin' meals or naps, either. I won't have Major Sheppard questioning me as to why you look worse than he does once he's up again."
"Okay," I said quietly. He gave me a skeptical look and, irritated, I repeated, "Okay." As if I never agreed to anything without arguing.
"Good man," he said, patting my shoulder before he walked away.
I worked on the cabinet door a half-minute more before my hands slowed and stopped. Three people. He'd been dying, and that was what he'd been thinking about. "Thank you," I said softly.
"You're welcome."
This time it didn't even surprise me, I just huffed a laugh as I looked up. "Are you awake this time?"
"Sorta." His gaze look decidedly fuzzy as it moved across the room, definitely stopping this time on me. "This Vancouver?"
I rolled my eyes. "Close. Go back to sleep, Major--I'll explain everything in the morning."
"'Kay." I'm not sure if that was supposed to be my name or an agreement, but I guessed the latter when he drifted off again without further comment.
I watched him sleep, trying to figure the odds of two people so dissimilar but paradoxically compatible winding up on the same small expedition, and couldn't do it. John probably could have. I'd have to ask him someday.
But disobeying orders, grand theft jumper, stealing patients, and swallowing my pride to grovel before a would-be goddess, all for the sake of that other person? It was crazy, I nodded to myself as I went back to work, unquestionably crazy.
And also, just as surely, no contest.
