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Rodney McKay prides himself on thinking first and foremost with his brain. Yes, his heart has good ideas occasionally and he absolutely lets his dick take the wheel when the time is right, but his brain is the grand operator. He is where he is today because he can think through anything.
That is not to say 100% of his brain is useful. Due to some evolutionary quirk, Rodney is forced to dedicate a portion of valuable brain cells to some inane bonding voodoo that’s supposed to help other people’s emotions. To say it’s a waste of space is an understatement; Rodney has better things to do than sooth others when they cry or help a jarhead hear a pin drop from a mile away.
So when tall, handsome, and sentinel sits down in the ancient chair, most of Rodney’s mind is screaming in delight about having someone other than Carson with the ancient gene. He has an entire catalog of items that the new soldier can activate, and there’s so much work, work, work he can do before going through the gate.
Another part of his brain – the useless part – is preening at the opportunity to touch and bond. It screams perfect, perfect, perfect and buzzes at the top of his neck. But Rodney mostly ignores it.
He’s a professional. He has skills. And they are not going towards following around some military lacky.
He puts it out of his mind.
Sheppard tries not to overthink any of his decisions. His instincts work perfectly fine. Sure, his lack of thinking is what made him go back for his men, piss off anyone whose opinion matters, and ultimately end up in the frozen tundra, but he really doesn’t mind.
He also cheats a bit because his instincts are backed up by his sentinel senses. It makes it easy to cut through bullshit.
And Sheppard likes being a sentinel. He’ll take any advantage he can get if it means he can protect his people better. It’s part of his DNA to be a leader, and his responsibility is to refine and utilize his skills related to his enhanced senses.
Which he is not doing when he trails after General O’Neill around the frozen base. While the chair definitely looks weird, it smells normal. There aren’t any mechanical sounds emitting from it. Sheppard does feel a mysterious pull from the chair that connects to a deep part of his soul, but his sentinel senses think everything’s a-okay. So he sits down.
His body is simmering. It’s sensing without input. He can’t think, but he’s never been sharper.
“Did I do that?” he says, looking at the most beautiful lights in the galaxy.
“Major, think about where we are in the solar system,” a man says in a bright orange fleece, sounding like the most beautiful thing in possibly two galaxies.
~ - ~
Atlantis is everything Rodney hoped and dreamed it would be. It’s beautiful and so full of secrets that he’ll never be able to uncover them all, but he’s so fortunate to have the chance to try. During the first week, he barely minds the space vampires and his idiotic underlings ruining everything. The state of energy levels alone should make Rodney never want to leave the lab, but he’s selfish and wants more. He lets Sheppard talk him into joining AR-1.
The invitation did come as a surprise as Rodney doesn’t think the man likes him all that much. The only one-on-one conversation they had up to that point was tense.
On the first night in Atlantis, after all the chaos and horribleness of almost dying a dozen different ways, Rodney staged an ambush in Sheppard’s quarters and gave him the rundown. Yes, he is a guide. Yes, his brain is beautiful and complex. No, you don’t get to touch it. He doesn’t care how important and macho you are. The beautiful and complex brain isn’t actually great at guiding. Also, he’s busy.
Sheppard did not respond to the rejection like most sentinels (with anger and anguish at losing such a prize) and surprisingly sounded indifferent. Rodney could sense they were compatible, and being unbonded sounded extremely unpleasant. He had to push and find out why the rejection didn’t sting.
Rodney sputtered and peeved his way through an interrogation until Sheppard burst, “McKay, shut up. I’m already bonded.”
Which was impossible because he wasn’t when they met. Hell, he wasn’t the day before, but it turned out to be true. The sentinel got shacked up with an alien chick. A hot alien chick. It was strange, probably dangerous, and a specific kinky dream Rodney kept having.
Later, the anthropologists confirmed the Pegasus galaxy doesn’t have the same sentinel/guide dynamic as on Earth, but that didn’t stop Sheppard and the alien from developing a bond-like connection that was incredibly convenient when running from the Wraith. The liberal arts majors went on about evolution and divergence, but Rodney stopped listening. All that mattered was the bond wasn’t official, but Sheppard could feel she helped with focusing his senses.
Rodney was grateful to have that inconvenience wiped off his plate and rejoiced for his mental independence. The invitation to be the head off-world scientist was an added bonus.
Weir raised an eyebrow when Sheppard stated his choices for Atlantis’ flagship team, but Rodney assured her the arrangement is strictly professional. Teyla would be Sheppard’s guide. Even if Weir doesn’t even pretend to understand it. No other person on the expedition understands it. They’re all Neanderthals who can’t see beyond superpowers and feelings anyway.
But Rodney is here to prove them wrong. During Team Sheppard’s first two off-world missions, he was told to wait patiently by the gate while Sheppard and Ford showed their tracking skills to search for the villages of Teyla’s previous trading partners. Then she got to show off her negotiation skills to make sure Atlantis didn’t starve. Neither planet they visited had any technology advanced enough to be worth Rodney’s time. And yes, it’s nice that Atlantis now has 26 sacks of some kind of grain and a few heavy extraterrestrial animal pelts, but Rodney wants to be able to show he’s useful.
The trip to P9L-132 is the perfect opportunity. The Hertchins are rumored to have a device that sounds awfully like a ZPM, and AR-1 gets dibs on the case.
The air is crisp, and there are far too many trees hanging over the path. The walk to the town is quiet. Rodney tries not to ruin it with nervous energy.
“Teyla of the Athosians! Welcome!” a pale man greets, leading a group of even paler people. “We are happy to see you!”
“It is great to see you as well, Maresh,” Teyla says as she runs up and touches their foreheads together. “I have brought friends and news of Wraith. Can we arrange a meeting with the elders?”
“I am so sorry, Teyla, but we do not have time now. There is an emergency with our dam system, and we are focusing all of our energy on fixing it. We are missing our lead technician and are lacking the proper knowledge to avoid disaster.”
McKay thinks Here’s the opportunity. This is perfect.
Four hours later, the situation did not unfold how Rodney expected. He’s cold and wet, crunched under a nonsensical console, trying to rewire everything so a trillion gallons of water doesn’t wipe out an entire society.
He glances to his left and sees an entire panel missing. The hopelessness increases tenfold, and Rodney regrets not asking the Hertchins about their sunscreen routine. Their skin is so pale and protected from potential cancers, and he wanted to know their trick before his failures causes their inevitable deaths.
“Doc! Can you work any faster?” Ford screams over the wooshing of water cascading around them.
“Yes. I’ve been lazing around for these past twenty minutes of hell, but your words of encouragement reminded me that I have hands.”
“McKay, knock it off and keep working. Ford, get out of here and inform the Hertchins that they need to evacuate. Teyla, you’re with me.”
Rodney looks at the disconnected ancient junk in his hands. It’s hopeless, all hopeless. He stops, locks eyes with an irate Ford, and sees they both disobeyed orders. They nod at each other and head towards where Sheppard and Teyla went.
“What are they doing?” Rodney says stumbling through a dark corridor. Ford trails behind.
“Doc! I think they’re going for the failsafe!”
“The failsafe? The Hertchins said it’s on the wall currently covered by a massive waterfall. It’s impossible to find unless- Jesus Christ that idiot.”
Rodney and Ford enter the room to see Sheppard with his eyes closed, breathing deeply and Teyla gently holding his wrist, fingers on his pulse. The team stands on a platform surrounded by water. Every other surface in the expansive room is flooded, and the command center is completely covered.
“What exactly is the plan here, Sheppard?” Rodney shouts trying to be heard over the violent cascade of water. “You are not stable enough to dial up right now. Not when you have a month-old bond with a fake guide.”
“It’s fine, McKay. Me and Teyla got this,” he says with a concerning amount of casualness. “Ford, get yourselves to safety.”
“I dunno, sir. The beeping from the switch probably won’t be loud enough. I can’t leave you guys.”
Sheppard opens his eyes and looks like he’s going to argue, but Teyla interrupts him. “Rodney, Aiden, we have to try. John and I have been working hard together, and we made a promise to the people here.”
Her tone is so strong and steady that it leaves Rodney speechless. Maybe she can be a good guide. They let the sound of water surround them as John concentrates on locating the failsafe.
Two moments pass before Rodney gets his head back on.
“This is stupid, absolutely moronic. You aren’t trained enough to-”
“Shut up, McKay! Give me a second and let me try-”
“We don’t have a second! The water is rising and going to-”
“I know I know! But I can locate it. Just get out of here.”
“You aren’t going to be able to before it’s too late.” The soles of their boots are drenched.
“But I can do it before it floods the villages.”
Sheppard’s eyes are scrunched shut, and Teyla looks less steady than before.
“For the love of God,” Rodney says before he marches over to yank them both out towards the door. His fingers grip Teyla’s hand and brush Sheppard’s when the Major’s eyes go wide.
“Got it.”
In a flash, Sheppard dives off the platform and is in the water. Rodney peers over the railing and tries to see him, but it’s too dark. The flood continues to rise. It looks like Sheppard was never there at all.
“Is he trying to kill himself?” Rodney screams, running to the control panel on the wall. It’s futile, but he has to try something.
Teyla looks concerned but faithful. Ford looks like he’s going to jump in after his commanding officer. Rodney wants to judge them for their inaction – a member of their team may have just killed himself – but he can’t because he’s as powerless as they are.
He bangs on the machinery, trying to operate some system, any system, to save the Hertchins and maybe even Sheppard. It’s a nice distraction to have while he’s forced to wait.
Eons pass when Ford says, “Guys, I think he did it!” as he points from the railing.
The water around their knees is receding, and the loud flowing noise seems to be directed somewhere else. The sonofabitch did it. He did the impossible and saved the day once again. The moron better be alive to see it.
The water drains quickly, and the control room is becoming visible again. They all see a wet messy mop of dark hair, and Ford shouts with glee.
“Sir! You did it!” he says as he rushes down the platform steps to help Sheppard up. “How was the swim?”
“Oh, not too bad. A little chilly, but I can’t complain,” he says as he coughs up a lung. “Did the dam get redirected to the reservoir? Is the village safe?”
“Major Sheppard!” Chief Maresh – geez when did the calvary get here – says. “It worked! Our people are saved!”
A mass of locals joins them on the ground to celebrate. The Hertchins fawn over their hero and promise feasts and honors in his name. Drops of water still drip from the ceiling, and Rodney releases the tools he was working with to stand next to Teyla at the railing. Soaking in the scene makes him a little melancholy. Adrenaline still runs through his veins, and he has no place to put it. He should’ve used it to be the genius hero, but all it did was make him worry more.
“Why are you not celebrating with everyone?” Teyla says as they both look down at the crowd. “Are you not happy Major Sheppard succeeded?”
“Of course I’m happy. Ecstatic even. The military saves the day and lives to tell the tale once again.”
“Rodney, it is okay to celebrate when your friend is alive. I know you were worried before,” she says as she touches his arm lightly.
“Please, you’re taking guide training, but I already know all the tricks. The emotion I am feeling now is very clearly jealousy.”
Teyla rolls her eyes but has no response. Rodney wanted to prove himself on this mission, and Sheppard got in the way. Nothing more or less. If their technology wasn’t complete nonsense, the crowd of pale alien freaks would be worshipping him for saving the day.
But jealousy doesn’t explain the knot Rodney felt in his stomach the moment he saw John jump off the railing or the crushing relief when he saw him surface.
Rodney mutters under his breath about the Air Force, the Marines, and the handsome bastard for his trouble. Through all the fawning, Sheppard’s head whips up. He makes eye contact with Rodney and gives him a cocky smile.
It’s not like he can hear him, right?
Oh, well. Dumb. Rodney will need to get used to the sentinel stuff.
He and Teyla begin to walk back to the surface, and he wants to put it all behind him. He can be the hero next time, and at the very least, the next planet will throw them a fantastic feast.
~ - ~
Rodney stares at the massive Ancient laundry machine and curses Elizabeth Weir. It’s so unfair, he may start a mutiny.
When the crew first arrived at Atlantis, the diplomat created a sort of “chore chart” to ensure the upkeep and basic functionality of the city. Rodney McKay PhD PhD thought he was excused from appearing on such frivolous listings as the genius Chief Scientist, but Weir has some stupid ideas about “equality” and “team moral” and “mutual respect”. His name was added to the official Communist Work List of Atlantis anyway.
For the past year, Rodney had done a great job of avoiding any such responsibility. As there were always new things to explore and a million fires that could only be put out specifically by him, he was able to avoid Elizabeth and her silly requirement. But once Atlantis established contact with Earth, she put out a hit on him. He argued that now they could recruit more bodies around to focus on such menial tasks, and Weir responded with a mean threat to send him back on the Daedalus to Earth.
Rodney really did not enjoy their mandatory month of leave there, so here he stands. In front of a ginormous thousand-year-old high-tech washing machine like a plebeian.
He stares at the mountain of laundry before him and immediately goes to one of the control panels on one of the driers. There is no way the Ancients did this work themselves. There has to be a technological improvement they don’t have implemented currently that does all the work for them. McKay has the knowledge to fix anything, and people will celebrate him forever as the man who saved laundry all by himself.
Twenty minutes later, he radios Sheppard to come help him.
“What, McKay?” he asks lazily.
“You and your magnificent genes are needed on level 3.”
"Is this the laundry room?” Sheppard says as he walks through the door. He looks worse for wear, disheveled uniform, epic bags under his eyes, and a posture bad even for the Lieutenant Colonel’s standards. His messy appearance matches his hair. “That’s why you needed me so urgently? The laundry?”
Sheppard hasn’t been the same since Ford went missing. The failure weighs on him. Rodney knows he’s spending his free time searching for ghosts instead of eating or sleeping. Since coming back from Earth, he’s mostly been avoiding Rodney.
“Yes, it’s an important matter,” Rodney says leading them to the pile of tech to upgrade. “Since Elizabeth put me on the Communist Work List-”
“Don’t call it that, Zelenka doesn’t like it when you call it that.”
“-I am forced to do this nonsense. Thankfully, I am a genius and figured out how to program Atlantis to do it on her own, but I need you to activate some things. We could revolutionize how everyone washes their clothes here.”
“Not that I’m against your laziness, but won’t this needlessly deplete the new ZPM?”
“Hm, probably. Then we can activate it for me and let everyone else do it the hard way.”
“You’re a real saint, you know that McKay?” Sheppard walks away and plops down on a pile of everyone’s dirty clothes bags.
“Like you can talk. Are you even on Elizabeth’s list? Or is this another classic case of the military being overvalued?”
“I’ll have you know I am a regular dishwasher in the kitchen,” he says proudly. “Rebecca and I get along great.”
“Who in the world is Rebecca?” Rodney grabs a creeper and slides under the Ancient dryer.
“She’s a mechanical engineer who you threw out of your labs three days into the mission. Afterward, she found the kitchens and has been feeding everyone, including your sorry ass, for the past year.”
“Oh. I remember her. She had terrible ideas about powering the external substations. But I guess she makes a good Athosian stew.”
Rodney hears him shift and sigh from across the room. “How did Elizabeth finally get you down here?”
“She’s good at her job. Did you know that? She negotiates and badgers and diplomat-ed the hell out of me,” he says as he rips out some wiring. “Which is annoying because I should not be forced to do this.
“You know how I contribute to the egalitarian free society of Atlantis? I save everybody’s life each week. I slave and work and make sure aliens don’t kill us all. I think I have built enough good credit to not have to wash clothes. My hands and brain have better things to do. I’m sure every person in the city would rather have me work on that Ancient device that makes its targets explode or the water pressure so we can finally have showers that don’t feel like limp dick. Elizabeth says the optics will help boost morale, but do you think my subordinates will want to see me in such a humiliating position? Don’t answer that. As their leader, I know what they want to see, and it’s not this. Can you come over here and think ‘on’?”
The metal in Rodney’s hands is heating up, and he really needs the gene right now.
“Sheppard, are you listening? Do you not want to help revolutionize important Ancient technology?”
There still is no response, so he slides out and is ready to yell at him over the comms for leaving at such a vital moment.
“John, do you think you can- oh.” Rodney walks over to see Sheppard asleep on the pile of laundry.
He looks peaceful. Rodney has missed the default carefree expression on his face and can’t choke out any more words. He just kind of stares. Soaks in the moment of peace.
Eventually, the heaps of dirty clothes call to him, and Rodney concedes to do it the hard way. Of course, systems will operate 73% more efficiently even without the Ancient gene tweak, but he still grumbles as he works.
“Typical. Absolutely typical. I do all the work, need you to do the bare minimum, and you can’t follow through. After today, I will never listen to Elizabeth Weir ever again.
“I’m glad you’re getting your beauty sleep, I’m getting the blood out of your BDUs,” he addresses the sleeping corpse. The one-sided chatter calms his nerves. “Are you hugging and smelling that bag of dirty laundry? I am never going to let you live this down when you wake up.”
Rodney takes another load to the dryer and sees his name on the bag Sheppard has his face plastered into. Oh yes, this will be excellent material for future blackmail.
It’s still a waste of an afternoon, but well, maybe not completely.
~ - ~
Late one night, Rodney is trying to do work to win a Nobel Prize, and Ronon will not stop bothering him.
AR-3 brought back an interesting dog-sized capsule from the uninhabited L6Y-987 that’s emitting a strange energy signal. Rodney thinks it’s a possible power source and is cross-referenced with the Ancient database. If he’s right, it could be a small replacement for ZPMs, alien technology would be revolutionized, and an entire generation of scientists will worship the ground he walks on. He’s done a great job kicking every useless idiot out of the labs; he just needs Ronon to leave.
He doesn’t have any sympathy for the klutz. It was his decision to chase after the injured Wraith on their last mission on the death-trap bog planet. The broken leg will heal with time, and with the team being grounded, it allows Rodney to deal with the energy capsule. Ronon is clearly responsible for his own entertainment. It’s unnerving even seeing the guy in the labs, much less bothering him with stupid questions.
“So what’s the deal with Sheppard and Teyla’s bonding? Are they hooking up? Should they be?”
Rodney drops his wrench. “No. No, I’m not answering that. I already told you to go to the anthropologists if you have any questions about sentinels and guides.”
“I already did. They have some theories about Satedans possibly evolving to have the same traits. It was boring.” He swivels to look Rodney in the eye. “And I don’t trust them.”
“That’s fair, they have fake, inconsequential jobs. I’ll try to break it down for you.” This isn’t worth his time, but honestly, he’s hit a dead end on the project anyway. “About four thousand years ago, tribes in Earth’s southern hemisphere had an interesting-”
“That stuff was already explained to me. Boring. I want to know how reliable their relationship is and if I need to get one too.”
“I don’t know the details,” he replies, unaware of how happy he is to not know the details. “While I technically have a genetic predisposition to fulfill the role as Teyla, I don’t waste my time trying to be an expert.
“I think normal sentinels and guides bond as a mental all-encompassing schmoozy life thing, you know? Their brain works as one. It’s disgusting. But I guess it works. Anyway, Teyla and Sheppard don’t share that freaky mind meld. Teyla doesn’t have the fancy DNA sequence I have, so it’s physically impossible. She’s just there to help him focus. Grounds him, helps him translate his dumb thoughts. It works for Sheppard because it’s helpful and no one else is forced into his mentally repressed head. I dunno what she gets out of it.”
“Weird.”
“Yeah, it is weird.” Ronon looks at him like he’s content with the answer but he’s still waiting for more explanation. It’s unsettling. Rodney wants to go back to focusing on the energy capsule, but he’s genuinely stuck and has no means to escape. The two men stare at each other helplessly. “So yes, I guess it’s possible they’re fuckin-”
The Atlantis emergency alarms go off. Oh thank God, Rodney thinks. Both of their earpieces chirp at once.
“Rodney, what’s your status?” Sheppard says all command-like.
“He’s with me in the lab,” Ronon says grabbing his crutches, “Where do you need me?”
“Stay put with McKay. You need to keep off your leg. I’ll handle this.”
Both men begin to protest when Elizabeth gets on the line.
“Gentlemen, we’re also on lockdown. No one should leave the room they’re currently in. We’ll provide details when we have them.”
And that is somehow worse. Ronon still stands up and begins hobbling around the room. He cases the lab and searches for an unknowable threat. Maybe he does have a minor sentinel gene. Rodney goes to his computer because he wants to be ready to research when they ask. If they ask. It’s all he can do.
Moments later, Elizabeth hops back on the comms. “We have a situation. We cannot confirm for sure, but we believe an intruder is on Atlantis. AR-2 recently came back from a mission on N8R-497, and once they opened the puddlejumper doors, the energy readings and life sign detectors malfunctioned. Corporal Wilson and Doctor Melville were found with snapped necks. Lockdown procedure 5 is now in effect. Weir out.”
Rodney finds his purpose and begins scouring the Ancient database for information from that planet. Ronon finds his as well and begins sharpening his throwing knives. Minutes pass.
“Rodney,” Teyla says on his and Ronon’s comms, “what do you know about sentinels and their territory?”
Of course Sheppard declared the city his territory. His pea brain is probably going haywire right now. His only instinct is to do everything in his power to defend his tribe, even if it kills him. It shouldn’t be surprising, considering what happened during the storm a year ago. Having a psycho intruder encroach on his turf made Sheppard go on a murderous rampage; Rodney can’t imagine what an invisible one will do to him this time.
“Is Sheppard okay? That idiot! He’s probably zoning right now. Teyla, you need to take him to a sentinel-sensitive room. Now. Abandon the mission.”
“No, that is not what is wrong,” she says cautiously. “He is still functioning but seems to be non-verbal. He is communicating through grunts and entering and exiting each room with thorough precision. I am trying to stay on his trail.”
Rodney stops typing and pauses. This seems like a bad sign.
“Sheppard’s fine. He knows his territory,” Ronon chimes in. He relaxes quite a bit, which only makes Rodney more uneasy. “He’s a good guardian and knows Atlantis better than he knows himself.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? He needs to get to safety!”
“No. He has those fancy senses. He can sense when the intruder disrupts an area.”
“Oh wait, yes! That makes sense! Teyla, follow him and make sure he doesn’t go insane. You may be able to use your bond to translate his grunts and groans.”
Teyla replies in the affirmative, and Rodney and Ronon hear the duo work in tandem. Rodney finds the planet in the database and cross references with any information about invisibility. In the background, he hears Sheppard whine and Teyla giving status updates. Sheppard confirms the cafeteria is untouched. Sheppard senses a change in lab three. Sheppard feels the trail lead down hallway four. Sheppard knows it went past the armory. Teyla says they’re heading towards Rodney’s labs.
“Sounds about right,” Ronon says loading his blaster.
“Unfortunately, it makes too much sense. The Ancients had notes that the people from N8R-497 were power-hungry genocidal monsters. Their invisibility is only possible through rare energy radiation. And I’d bet anything this capsule in this lab has exactly what they need. We are so fucked.”
“I don’t see the problem. Sheppard will get it. If not, we’ll get ‘em here.”
This does nothing to ease his nerves, and he tries his best to not feel like a sitting duck. Reading more about the invisible entity makes it worse. “Did you know these beings found a way to alter how their particles react to light? The downside, of course, being it takes an incredible amount of energy and drives you insane.”
“McKay, you’re not helping,” Sheppard says as his first words in a while. “Tell me his weaknesses, so we can get this over with.”
“He’s likely to be naked if that helps.”
“McKay.”
“Looking, looking!” he says reading as fast as he can. “They are human-sized and have enhanced strength. And here! They have a faint metallic smell, and their glamour falls off with loud noises.”
“Got it.”
Sheppard goes back to being non-verbal without so much as a thank you, and Rodney lets himself relax. The Colonel can do this. Rodney can always trust him to save the day.
“John! Where are you- Dammit!” Teyla’s voice surprisingly comes through the comms. “John ran ahead of me. He’s headed to the entity alone.”
Typical. Rodney can always trust him to run into danger.
“Teyla, keep on him to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Ronon says calmly. It looks like he’s collecting large sheets of metal, huh, probably to use as large, loud cymbals. Rodney turns back to his research. Maybe the invisible man has a weakness against pale scientists.
Over the comms, the worst sounds play in sequence. An undeniable manly growl and the swooshing of a big gun in movement, the silence of a stare down. Three quiet thump, thump, thumps and one loud whack. The heavy steps of the entity running away and lighter steps arriving on the scene.
“John, are you alright?” Teyla’s voice comes over as concerned and urgent. “Your side, I think we need to get you to Carson.”
“No.”
“I can go on, but you should get help.”
“No.”
“Will you two stop arguing? There’s an invisible killer to worry about.” Ronon is all business as he hobbles over to Rodney and forces the metal sheets into his hands. “You should be good at making loud noises. If he gets too close, hit him with it.”
He doesn’t have a good response to that, so Rodney tightens his grip on the homemade cymbals and braces himself.
It’s terrifying not knowing what’s coming. It reminds him of hiding from bullies when he was in primary school. The other kids were as cruel as they were stupid, so Rodney would find a dark corner in the hallway and try to stay quiet and hidden. It didn’t matter; the bullies would find him anyway. The worst part of it was the anticipation. The fear and anxiety of a hurtful inevitability. Rodney tampers down on his mental shields. His bleeding feelings have acted like a predatory beacon before.
The barricade Ronon made at the lab door moves an inch, and they brace for impact. Now’s the time.
Nothing happens.
Ronon leans, squints his eyes, and starts shooting his blaster at seemingly empty space. Except it’s not empty because that’s definitely the sound of flesh being hit and a growl from a very angry superhuman. Rodney bangs on the metal sheets out of instinct, and the loud noise makes it half possible to see half of figure charging towards him. He feels like a dumb circus monkey, clapping as loud as he can.
Ronon keeps blasting, but the figure changes direction and is gone from sight. Ronon holds a finger to his lips, and Rodney stills. Three people stand in the room trying to figure each other out.
John Sheppard barges into the lab to ruin it. His side is bleeding, and he’s still clearly too feral to be verbal. Rodney doesn’t even have a second to berate him for his stupidity (or take in this… view) because Sheppard zeros in on the invisible figure immediately and launches himself at it.
It’s a dance. Two fighters trying to get the upper hand. Sheppard’s not holding back, uncharacteristically fighting dirty and not even noticing the invisible advantage.
Ronon quickly hobbles over to help when Sheppard is thrown off to the side. He’s down for the moment, and the Sateden takes over the hand-to-hand combat. It will end up being more accurate than the gun.
Except he has a broken leg and probably won’t be able to execute his normal caveman heroics. So Rodney thinks quickly and bravely bangs the metal sheets still in his hands to recreate the loud noise to take back the advantage for Ronon. It seems to work instantly with tan skin flickering in and out of sight as he reaches for a neck.
But then Sheppard groans from the corner. Oh shit his hearing is definitely dialed up, and Rodney just gave him an aneurysm. He drops one of the sheets immediately.
Teyla runs into the lab carrying a bucket and witnesses a scene of chaos. Ronon is seemingly swimming on air as he wrestles with a cast on his left leg, Rodney is inching towards the two because he’s somewhat attempting to hit the invisible entity with a very impractical weapon, and Sheppard is curled in the corner in pain.
Ronon flops to the ground, and everyone loses sight of it as it wiggles away. The chaos becomes deadly calm. Teyla runs over to Sheppard and crouches next to him.
“John, focus,” she says authoritatively. She holds their foreheads together and whispers reassurances. Then, “Where is he?”
Sheppard stands weakly and dials back his senses. After a deep breath, he points to the corner of the room. Teyla, the quickest woman alive, leaps into action and throws the contents of her bucket on that space.
She’s as smart as she is fast because the new green paint-covered human-like blob makes it easy for Ronon to get back in the game. The crutch makes a satisfying crack when it makes contact with the head. Teyla goes for his legs.
The fight is messier this round. Two against one with paint flying everywhere. The entity gets smacked around, but it’s also getting angrier. Rodney goes for Ronon’s gun.
The scientist is deliberate with his aim. He doesn’t want to hit his team, so he takes all of his training from the past year and patiently waits for the shot. Ronon and Teyla get knocked down simultaneously, and Rodney pulls the trigger.
It misses to the right, and Rodney’s lost his clear window. Teyla resumes her punches, but the invisible man has changed his target. He ignores her and makes his way towards the man who tried to shoot him. An angry green blob is on a warpath to kill him. Rodney’s gun trembles in his hand; if he aims too far to the right, he hits Ronon who’s hobbling at the entity’s shoulder and if he aims too far to the left, he hits Teyla who’s getting back up.
Rodney feels as if the eyeless face is staring into his soul and declaring it won’t stop until it gets to the capsule.
“Oh fuck,” he says as his last words. He tries to retreat, and of course he stumbles and falls.
The paint drips on the floor next to AR-1 as they look up to the entity looming over them. Rodney hopes death is painless and the man doesn’t destroy Atlantis.
“No.”
From across the room, Sheppard stands up. He looks different, the danger in his eyes more focused. Despite the urgency of the matter, he risks a glance at Rodney.
Less frantic than moments before, the sentinel charges and hits his target. It’s not a fight because it’s over too quickly. Sheppard gets a hold of him and snaps his neck. The glamour wears off instantly, and a dead, naked man suddenly blinks into visibility.
The team doesn’t say anything and lets the craziness wash over them. None of them make a move to stand up but stare at each other while sitting on their asses. It’s hard to process an insane invisible man just tried to kill them and how they managed to get him. This is going to be a hard one to explain to Elizabeth.
“Well I now understand what a guide does,” Ronon jokes, breaking the tension. The rest of the team, relieved more than anything, laughs and gets up. “Maybe I should get one.”
It’s another joke, but Ronon somewhat leers at Rodney when he says this. He feels like a prized meat cut at a butcher shop. The objectification reminds him of the sentinel/guide mixers he was forced to go to as a teenager. It’s not a nice reminder.
“Now wait a minute-” “Don’t you dare even think about it, you oaf,” Sheppard and Rodney say at the same time.
Teyla steps between the men as Ronon holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, I was just kidding. McKay would make a terrible guide.”
And that’s exactly what he’s been saying for thirty years. He’s felt the disconnection his entire life, but it stings to hear it, especially in front of Shepp- the team.
“Ronon. Don’t,” the colonel says firmly.
“No, no it’s fine. He’s right,” Rodney says as he moves to help the crippled man up. “I am, er, sorry about the whole loud noise sheet thing. I should’ve known that it would affect you like that.”
Sheppard gets a pained look on his face and says, “No. It was ok. Uh, it maybe hurt a bit, but. I don’t want you to feel, like.”
He doesn’t finish whatever his thought might have been and helplessly looks at Teyla.
“Anyway, great job everyone,” she says casually, and the tension instantly fizzles out. She’s so amazing. “Why don’t we help Ronon to the infirmary? John, I also believe you should get your side checked out.”
John and Rodney get their arms under Ronon- God is he heavy- and follow her out of the destroyed labs. Teyla sensibly comms Elizabeth and Beckett.
The sentinel and guide, from across Ronon’s back, try not to let their arms brush against each other.
~-~
“I dunno why you go along with it, Rodney,” Carson says from his office chair. “It’s not entirely in character for you to sit back and let someone else do all the work.”
“That’s the difference between you and me,” he replies from under the desk, “It’s not about the amount of work. Because some things are not worth doing at all.”
Which is ironic because Rodney is currently humiliating himself by doing something useless. He was enjoying one of the few moments of peace when Carson asked for some simple tech support. A nurse clicked on a dirty link, and now he has to fix the issue before Atlantis explodes because some horny idiot wanted to get their rocks off on their shared work computer. It’s a menial task Rodney could do in his sleep and so far below his capabilities, it’s an insult to even be thought of in the same breath. He did not get multiple high-level degrees from elite universities to do a monkey’s IT job.
But Carson asked. So here he is.
“I gather it can be real useful. Have you heard about Dr. Litz and the Athosian children?” Carson says with entirely too much whimsy. “She was able to calm down a dozen of them during a storm, only using her guide voice.”
“As appealing as that sounds, I have no desire to train an uninteresting part of my brain for years and years, so I can act as a babysitter for snot-nosed kids.”
“But it’s so magical.” Carson pauses to think. “How about Sergeant Butterfield? Dinna you hear of how he saved his entire team on the sandstone planet?”
“No way.” Butterfield is more stick than man. His main contribution to Atlantis is keeping his hothead sentinel on a leash and writing poems to present at Elizabeth’s mandatory talent show.
“It’s true! They were helping the Lamaites organize their mining operation when the planet’s rival tribe tried to invade in the dead of night. No one knew it was coming, and the village was outnumbered and outgunned. Everyone felt defeated. All hope seemed lost.
“But then Butterfield gave a rousing speech. The words weren’t that inspiring, you’ve heard his poetry, but his mental projections, they changed everything. His guide abilities reached out to every person in the area and gave them the courage to stand up for themselves. The Lamaites were able to fight and fend for themselves! It was like David and Goliath. Cadman said it was quite a scene.”
“Well if Cadman said.”
Carson doesn’t respond to that. Rodney knows he crossed a line. He backtracks.
“Ok, so it probably did happen exactly like that. But! That still doesn’t mean what Butterfield did was useful. Sure, I might enjoy the power to influence others to do my bidding, and saving the day without violence is what I’ve been aiming for this entire mission. In fact, anything that keeps jarheads from shooting things is a win in my book. I’ve been trying to refine my leadership skills, maybe guide techniques would be a good shortcut. I’ve never considered feelings as an avenue of management.
“I do have other all-important skills though. My people may not always like me, nevertheless, I can tell they respect me. The respect oozes out of them. My natural leadership abilities are incredibly effective. Atlantis stands today because of the people who work in my lab and of course, me. What were we talking about again?”
“Butterfield, Rodney,” Carson sighs. “How you should put in some amount of work to be a guide.”
Rodney moves out from under the desk. He completed re-connecting the computer, and everything is virus-free. His hands are curiously clammy. It would be useful to have those skills but only if he was good enough.
“Hm. I’ll think about it,” he says dismissively. “I’m done now. You’re welcome.”
“Yes, thank you,” Carson replies, without all the extra sympathy he was buttering on. “I believe I owe you movie-picking rights. Please don’t choose anything too frightening.”
“Sure thing. You’ll love the romantic drama Rosemary’s Baby.” Rodney steps aside to let his friend lead them to the rec room.
~-~
C2R-213 is a completely uninhibited planet with something pinging the Ancient detector near the gate. It’s the perfect mission – no people, no walking, all the scientific glory – so Rodney has AR-1 snag the case.
It’s strange; the world is mostly covered with a gravel-like substance, but a few shrubs brush their knees as they explore the area. There isn’t enough vegetation to sustain intelligent life, and the crackles of the small stones are the only sounds for miles. Without shade, sweat drips down Rodney’s back.
“McKay, the mystery item was supposed to be close. What’s the hold-up?” Sheppard says with his classic aloof drawl.
“The readings remain consistent. Which, huh, should be increasing or decreasing. That’s interesting. Let me test some things out.”
“This is boring. There’s nothing here.”
“I’m sorry there isn’t anything to shoot, Ronon, but there could be riches of scientific discovery right under our feet.”
Rodney gestures, and Ronon rolls his eyes. The oversell is apparent with the entire area around them looking like a giant waterless fish tank. The peacefulness is nice though. Rodney magnanimously doesn’t push back.
He leads the teams towards the mountain-like piles, and the signal gets stronger. The unknowingness is intriguing. Rodney tries to begin a train of thought to explain the endless possibilities, but Teyla and Sheppard are loudly playing I-Spy behind him.
After another twenty minutes of walking and zero productivity, Sheppard goes stiff. He’s explaining the joys of American public television to the aliens when he suddenly stops dead in his tracks and crouches next to a strange-looking plant.
“You said the signals were mechanical-based, right?”
“It’s certainly a possibility,” he muses. “There really are more factors at play. Like-”
“Shh! There’s something here.”
Sheppard takes a piece of the not-fern and plumps down on a not-tree stump. He doesn’t say anything else. Rodney and Ronon try to coax out an explanation, but his focus is on the alien vegetation in his hands. It’s definitely some stupid sentinel shit, and Rodney is about to launch into an intelligent lecture about how this is a complete waste of time as the sensor is getting nothing from the plant.
“Rodney, Ronon,” Teyla interrupts wisely, “Perhaps you both should move ahead. John and I will investigate whatever he found here.” There’s a gentle pleading in her eyes that makes it hard to argue.
It’s never a good idea to split up with so many unknowns, and leaving Sheppard in this state is asking for trouble. The planet’s sun has already hit its peak and is slowly starting to set in the distance. Ronon’s impatience is radiating. He doesn’t want to deal with this.
“Fine. Let’s sync our watches. We’ll be back in two hours. Radio us if anything interesting happens.”
An hour and thirty-six minutes later, Rodney and Ronon have had a nice hike and return to the not-tree stump. They have an embarrassment of unknown technical mysteries in their packs while Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard hasn’t moved an inch.
“Well, the scanner did exactly what I designed it to do; it led us directly to an Ancient output full of mysterious – possibly lifesaving – technology,” Rodney announces once they’re in earshot. “Who knows what achievements can be had because we followed the obvious signals.”
Ronon is polite and doesn’t say anything about Rodney hypothesizing the room in the gravel mountain was a schoolchildren’s field trip location. Most of the tools were simplified versions of ones found in Atlantis and obviously designed for little hands.
The men walk closer to the still pair and feel the anxiety. Teyla’s eyes are filled with panic.
“Rodney, I need your help. John, he’s, he’s, unresponsive. I have been trying to get him to move for the past twenty minutes, and none of the usual techniques I use are working,” she says. “I believe he is experiencing a zone.”
“Oh fuck. That is not good! Why didn’t you go back to Atlantis? Or radio!”
“His bodily functions are moving dangerously slow. I fear moving him would cause damage. And it is important to maintain physical contact.”
“Good thing we’re here. Ronon, get his left side, we’ll get him to Beckett stat.”
The men move to lift under Sheppard’s arms when sentinel lets out a quick, nasty snarl. His catatonic state is back in a second, but whenever Ronon gets too close, he sounds like a rabid animal. The monkey-brain instincts see Ronon as a threat, which makes it somewhat offensive for Rodney to be able to approach, but he tries not to let it get to him.
“Teyla, you and me, we got this. He’s probably not as heavy as he looks.”
“I do not think it is a good idea to move him.”
“Are you kidding? What are we supposed to do? Let’s get him to some medical professionals!”
“No,” Teyla says, her voice shaking. “They may be able to help, but it would put his health at risk.”
Rodney makes a move to grab Sheppard by the back of his BDU. He’ll drag him across this kitty litter planet by himself if he has to.
“Rodney. Don’t.”
“Fine. Fine. What do you suggest we do then with this feral sack?”
“We work to get him out of the zone. Guide Donovan has been teaching me techniques, and I think with your help we can get through this.”
“That’s unfair. I’ve never done this before. I’m completely useless,” Rodney lies as he wipes his brow. When he was seventeen, he went to a party to chase after a mean, leggy blonde from his grad program and instead met the dumbest frat guy in all of North America. The sentinel had just-came-online written all over him and for some reason, chose to go to an incredibly stimulating, wet place. Obviously, it ended in disaster, and a cheap disco ball caused him to zone. Rodney panicked. Everyone else was too self-involved to notice the suffering of their fellow student, and he had to be the one to step up.
Rodney broke all his rules and took the frozen sentinel to the quietest room in the house. He summoned all the guide knowledge they forced into his brain as a child (that’s impossible for him to forget) and took care of that damn fool. It was awful. The entire procedure was invasive, tedious, exhausting, impossible, mind-numbingly stupid, and perhaps just a little bit lovely.
When it was all over, the asshole frat guy didn’t even say thank you. With a massive headache and vomit on his shoes, Rodney swore he’d never put in the effort to pull someone out of a zone again.
“Please, Rodney. We have to try.”
“This can only end in disaster,” he says shifting on his feet. “But alright. We can try.”
“Great. Where do you need me?” Ronon says without missing a beat.
“Stand guard, so you do not agitate John. And Rodney, I can use your natural calming energy and focus it on him. Kneel beside me here.”
This is the first time someone has described his energy that way. The men obey Teyla quickly.
“I have been attempting to take his focus off the small plant in his hands. I believe his sight is dialed up completely, so I’ve been reciting soothing exercises I learned from your counselors,” Teyla says. “Do you have any mild food with you? I would like to try stimulating his taste and smell.”
“Obviously,” he says as he gives her the peanut granola bar he always carries in his right pocket.
Teyla nods in thank you and waves the unwrapped snack under Sheppard's nose. He doesn’t move an inch. His tight stance and empty eyes are unsettling. Rodney always assumed his terminally lazy posture was the Colonel’s default, but maybe deep inside there’s someone always on edge.
Teyla continues to test the nose when Rodney grabs both of their hands without thinking. It’s a bad idea to touch a zoned sentinel, but it’s what he needs to do.
“Stop. He doesn’t need that,” Rodney says, feeling lightheaded. “He’s not zoned on sight. It’s sound.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. I’m one hundred percent positive. There’s something,” he begins, but there aren’t words to articulate the shifting he can feel in Sheppard’s Brain.
She nods and motions for him to grab the correct supplies. Teyla is polite enough not to comment when the men disconnect their hands and whimper a tiny bit.
“He’s likely zoned on a high-pitched sound that’s impossible for us to hear. I’ll try to find where it’s coming from.”
“Good. I will gradually muffle the sound to the best of my abilities.”
“Hey, do you guys think it has anything to do with that thing in his hands?” Ronon says from a distance.
The three of them work together slowly and silently. Rodney is perspiring at levels he did not know was possible, but it’s comforting to work beside Teyla and Ronon.
Hours later, after dragging a disoriented but human sentinel through the gate, after explaining to Elizabeth how the planet was likely an Ancient daycare – designed to teach children to experiment and apparently make evil fern-looking soundboxes – and the mission was mostly a wash, after fiddling around the infirmary much longer than he usually does after missions, Rodney finally makes it to his quarters.
In his bed, he thinks about what he hasn’t stopped thinking about. How Sheppard came alive when came out of the zone. How the first word that crossed his dry lips was a raspy Rodney.
~-~
The team dynamic changes. Probably for the better, but Rodney would never admit it. He doesn’t have time for the extra work. Or comradery.
Back on P9L-132, the Hertchin physicians need help, so AR-1 nabs Carson for the job. Because nothing is easy, after about half a day, the Scot only has half of the solution.
Their old apothecary created a miracle medicine to cure an alien arthritis-like disease but unfortunately died before the old coot could teach it to anyone. Post-industrial technology should have been able to deconstruct their dwindling samples, but there’s a key unidentifiable ingredient.
“Perhaps Colonel Sheppard will be able to identify it through smell?”
“Ay, it’s possible, but he’ll have to get down to the molecular level.”
“Rodney, do you think you could assist?” Teyla says already gesturing at connecting their hands.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
He thinks he sees Ronon and Carson join it too. It’s a certifiable kumbaya circle all so Sheppard can sniff.
The sentinel gets it done and saves the day once again. Carson even says something about getting the concoction patented on Earth. Rodney wipes his hands on his pants immediately after the deed is done.
~-~
Rodney and John are on the east tower looking over the beautiful sea, feeling the cool breeze in their hair, and bickering like the day is long.
“The only logical solution is for you to run back to the east pier. It would be faster.”
“Fat chance, Rodney. It wasn’t my fault, so I’m not moving a muscle.”
They’re installing more power-efficient systems around the city, and with the transporters turned off, it takes ages to walk from pier to pier. Maybe the scientist forgot the exact sequence they used on the previous station, but that doesn’t mean he should be the one to go back.
“I’m not moving either. I’m the one doing the actual fixing; why are you here if not to be my lackey?”
“Some super genius you are,” Sheppard says, stubbornly still. He’s gazing at the horizon and looking too content.
“Fine. Fine! We’ll do this another way,” Rodney says, eager to defend his intellect and laziness. “Use your super eyesight and try to read the code from here.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s tiny and way too far.”
Rodney grabs him by the scruff of his neck and steers his eyes to the station on the east pier. Sheppard’s skin and hair are surprisingly soft.
“C’mon, focus. I know you can do it.”
Rodney takes energy he didn’t know he had and directs its flow to Sheppard. The wind seems to die, and his vision feels like it hopped on a rollercoaster. Rodney hopes this works because his hand is getting sweaty on his team leader’s neck.
“Uh, yes. I got it.” Sheppard says before he rattles off the fifteen-digit sequence.
“Good. I’m glad no one had to walk the extra mile.”
~-~
Elizabeth forced all the men out of Atlantis for a “boy’s day out” to encourage rest and bonding. Rodney would be mad about it – decry misandry and wasting of time – but the Thorrives’s gladiator-Olympic-horse-monster truck battle turns out to be pretty cool.
Everyone is having a great time. Ronon is the most emotional he’s ever been, Radek actually has a smile on his face, and it looks like Chuck has seen God. The only issue is they’re in a sea of several thousand people cheering and stomping and ruckusing all at once. The noise is unbearable, only comparable to the song of a kind whale-like creature.
Rodney is about to cover his ears when a warm hand grips his thigh. It’s on the edge of painful, so he’s about to cuss out the perpetrator when he sees John’s face. He’s completely focused on the match, but he can’t hide his furrowed eyebrows or his fingers threatening to rip through another man’s pants.
Rodney wants to say something, suggest they leave or find earmuffs, but the sentinel’s expression changes. It goes from “I’m facing down a Wraith” to “There’s extra pudding in the cafeteria”. The uncomfortable grip becomes more relaxed and somewhat turns into a heavy petting. Sheppard doesn’t even notice Rodney is watching him and loudly cheers when one of the champions takes out two of the horses.
Rodney chooses not to comment on it. The words would be impossible to hear even if he tried. The situation is strange but not as strange as one of the monster trucks sailing over two men playing an intense game of golf. There are more important things to think about.
~-~
Rodney keeps a stash of Splenda in his BDUs for occasions like this. There’s a feast underway on a very nice planet that hasn’t explored the wonders of sugar yet. This makes the trade deal incredibly easy, but the team is forced into the blandest meal in all the galaxy.
Sheppard doesn’t hesitate. In a flash, he’s taken a bite of Rodney’s not-chicken and snaked his arm around his waist like he’s his prom date.
“No citrus in this dish.”
“Are you serious? Without even asking? I can’t believe you would have such terrible table manners during an important trade day-”
“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t die, McKay.”
“Like this flavorless hellscape has ever tasted anything with zest before,” he hisses, low and close to not be overheard. “Not that I would know what it tastes like.”
“Whatever you say,” Sheppard says without sounding apologetic.
Rodney bites his tongue and refuses to share any of his Splenda. He doesn’t mention that John is eating with his left hand and hasn’t moved away.
~-~
Rodney’s in his quarters, hunched over his computer and talking to himself as he saves Atlantis. Okay, maybe upgrading the air filter to be 7.8% more efficient isn’t as monumental as what he usually does, but it is complicated work. He knows Simpson has bad seasonal allergies, so this is practically saving her life.
He’s also letting himself get distracted by composing an email to Jeannie. She sends bi-weekly messages about the dullest subjects, harpies on about how Rodney needs to ‘stop working himself to death’ and ‘try to be happy’, and doesn’t even bother to solve the complex math equations he sends her. Building up the courag- or finding the time to reply can be challenging; however today, Rodney’s excited to type it up.
His email subject lines so often sound like Alien libraries are not as peaceful as I hoped and Madison may be a terror but have you considered mammoth-geese, but this email simply has I swear I’m happy.
Rodney doesn’t have anything in the body because he can’t find the words to explain it. Beyond sounding genuine, the last couple of months of happiness are hard to describe. Externally, there are still so many things that want to murder Rodney on a daily basis, but internally? There’s something. Hopefully, Jeannie understands and will stop sending him self-help books.
John enters the room without saying a word. Rodney glances up from his email to see the sunlight has left and Colonel Sheppard sitting on his prescription mattress.
They don’t have a meeting or movie night planned. Missions have been lighter with Teyla being pregnant, and none of his projects require military knowledge. And they’ve been good. Their friendship has been, well, more relaxed. Or more fun. Maybe the word is comfortable. These are good words to put in the email.
Rodney doesn’t want to speak first, so he looks back at his work, pretends he’s 100% focused on air filtration, and waits it out.
“Teyla yelled at me today,” Sheppard says after a moment.
“Really? I didn’t think that was possible,” Rodney replies as he stands up and takes a few steps closer. He then hesitates and ends up awkwardly in the middle of the room, arms crossed.
“It was less of a yell and more of a stern talking to while getting hit with sticks.”
“That sounds more appropriate. Though I’m unsure if training with her while she’s in her…” Rodney gestures to his stomach, “condition is wise.”
“I promise I’m not hitting the pregnant woman, Rodney.” He rolls his eyes and shifts on the bed. “Teyla yelled at me because she doesn’t like to have a job title without doing the work. I believe her exact words were ‘John. It is foolish to pretend I am doing something I gave up ages ago. I have bigger responsibilities now and cannot continue with this charade to protect your feelings.’”
“That’s unbelievably harsh.”
“Maybe it wasn’t those exact words, but you get the idea.”
“I do get the idea, and you can’t let her leave! We need her on the team! Can you imagine the three of us trying to be diplomatic?” Rodney shutters at the thought.
“She’s talking about being my guide, Rodney.”
“Oh.” Rodney might have forgotten she had that role in the first place.
“Yeah.”
“We can have the Center send you another one as soon as possible. And can probably convince Teyla to do it in the meantime.”
The Sentinel and Guide Center has been a nuisance for all of his adult life – with matchmaking and dumb classes – but he’s grasping at straws. The top brass has to send someone qualified out here, and the Daedalus can make the trip in two weeks. It hurts to think about, but there isn’t an alternative.
“I don’t need another guide. I think-”
“Not that I think you aren’t capable! But sometimes you zone, and frankly, it freaks me out.”
“Christ! Rodney!” John says impatiently. He stands, so they’re toe to toe. His expression is closer to disbelief than anger. He speaks as if he’s explaining to a toddler. “You are my guide. I don’t need one from Earth because I have you.”
“I’m flattered, really,” Rodney says as he takes a step back. “But we went over this the first day on Atlantis. I’m not cut out to be a guide. I’m too, you know, busy. And horrible at it.”
“I try not to stroke your ego too much, but you’ve been helpful these past few months. Also I’m in love with you.”
“Wait wait wait. Can we back up a bit? I still need to process this guide shit. How did we jump there?!”
“I don’t know either!” John yells, pacing back and forth. “The world started feeling crisper when you’re around, and suddenly I can’t think straight without you. In between, it was the only way you’d touch me.”
“Then it’s because of my guide brain. This isn’t real,” Rodney says as he throws up his arms and turns towards the wall. “And all this bullshit is exactly why I don’t bother.”
He doesn’t want to look at John’s face. It will probably look like Linda Condiff’s face fifteen years ago when she realized she was on a date with a Guide. She was a mess of a sentinel who demanded the complete destruction of mental shields. And Rodney had been so sure she wanted him for his working theory on quantum computing; what a disappointment.
John doesn’t say anything and tries to stare a hole into Rodney’s back. Maybe God does exist, and he’ll leave without another word.
Rodney jumps at the static shock that hits when a heavy hand gently turns him around. They’re toe to toe, closer than they’ve ever been. John’s eyes are full.
“Rodney.”
“It’s not gonna work in the long run, you see? The basis is too fragile, built on false science,” he says as he tries to will his body into taking a step back. “And I’ve compartmentalized. One hundred percent. So I don’t feel the same way. I’m sorry.”
“Rodney,” he repeats softly. “I can hear your heartbeat. It flutters when you lie.”
He looks away without a response. The bright red on the calendar over Sheppard’s shoulder stands out.
Both men jump when their comms go off. There’s finally space between them. Rodney’s hand almost slips as he tries to focus and tap to listen.
“John, Rodney, are you awake?” Elizabeth’s voice comes through fast. “There’s a situation on L2Q-423. We need you to gear up and get there as soon as possible.”
“Yeah, we’ll be there,” Sheppard says annoyed. He gives Rodney a hard glance and prowls out the door.
Rodney rips off his bathrobe and searches for his boots. He probably looks like a panicked idiot as he stumbles around his own room, trying to save the galaxy.
~-~
About two days later, Rodney wakes up with a head injury, bruises all over his body, and only three fingers on his left hand.
He’s lying on a straw bed in a dank prison cell. Of the fourteen times he’s been kidnapped, nine of them he was placed in dumps, four have been in boring integration rooms, and on one special occasion, he was treated like a Scientist God and lavished with the riches of a kingdom. Rodney misses that room; the blood-stained brick walls here don’t inspire much confidence.
Elizabeth gave troubling reports of a possible rebel Genii faction invading their closest poultry ally. Because Teyla’s diplomatic agreements actually mean something and Rodney is a big fan of protein, AR-1 and AR-7 took on the case despite it being the middle of the night. Ronon and Teyla were polite enough not to mention the tension between their teammates as the eight of them stepped through the gate.
Despite the troubling reports, it turned out to be an easy mission. There were no Genii in sight, and defeating the local rival village took no time at all. The battle had all the normal alien fight theatrics: projectiles, screaming, John Sheppard being a goddam hero.
The chicken farmers were very grateful for the quick defense and wanted to throw a celebration for their rescuers. Who was Rodney to deny them the honor? The teams decided to stay a little longer.
The party was going great. Their hosts were generous with the liquor and compliments. Teyla and Ronon were teaching some children a strange line dance, and Sergent Mehra was telling tales of worldly adventures to a group of admirers. Rodney was riding high.
Until he saw Sheppard on the fringes of the party, talking to a beautiful woman. She was tall and curvy, and leaning all over him. Rodney gripped his cup when she whispered in Sheppard’s ear. He dropped his cup when Sheppard smiled at what she said.
Suddenly the celebration wasn’t as fun anymore. Rodney slipped away and went to the woods to clear his head.
He was being unfair. Isn’t this what he wanted? Sheppard should be allowed to explore and move on. The best way to get rid of a sentinel is to give them something else. But the situation was very clearly rude. Didn’t John confess his feelings a couple of hours ago? Did the words actually happen or were they a part of Rodney’s imagination? He couldn’t help but feel scorned. The bond-that-never-was ached for something real.
The alcohol and a sudden wave of tiredness hit Rodney quickly. A little girl standing alone in the forest pathway stopped his train of thought. She looked frightened. The trees loomed over her and seemed to twist in the darkness.
Then something hit him in the back of his head, and there was nothing.
Waking up in the prison cell wasn’t surprising nor was the obvious concussion. It was the lack of ring and pinky fingers that really got him, and Rodney’s going to give his captors a piece of his mind once they show their faces. He doesn’t know what they want, but they’re gonna regret ever taking another man’s phalanges like this.
Rodney is muttering to himself, staring at empty spaces on his hand, when an imposing man enters his cell. His eyes are focused, and Rodney sits up to match the man’s posture.
“Doctor Rodney McKay,” he says emphasizing the k sound, “It is nice to finally meet you.”
“I can’t say the same thing. The accommodations aren’t very nice, the food is bland, and you took two of my fingers!”
“Yes. My apologies for the brutality. It was an unfortunate necessity.” The man takes a step closer and acts as if he were a professor lecturing in an auditorium. “You see, we went through a great effort to get you. The planet needs your mechanical expertise, and the fastest way to get your little team here was to create a conflict.”
Rodney knew the fight was too easy. He tries not to let anything show on his face.
“We appreciate all the help and trading you have provided in the past, but this long-term project will require your full attention. Possibly for years.” The man sounds like he’s indulging in a particularly delicious meal. “The Great Rodney McKay will help us restore our hypersonic missiles and reclaim our planet’s glory.”
“I’ve seen your missile systems, and they’re crap. It will be impossible to fix them.”
“You’ve been in this galaxy too long Dr McKay. I know what you’re capable of, and I know ‘impossible’ is not a notion that stops you.”
Rodney’s mind rolls, and he wants to scream in frustration. He could go on and on about the scientific limitations, but it doesn’t matter. None of this matters because- “My team is looking for me now. They’re going to get me out and destroy this dump before I even touch any of your equipment.”
“Did I not mention? Everyone thinks you’re dead.” The man crouches so he’s at Rodney’s level. The smirk and bottomless eyes send a chill down his spine. “During the feast, a young girl ran out of the woods, crying about a stranger who saved her from a wild ransvie attack. The animal had her in its clutches before the stranger bravely distracted it and told her to run.”
“They’re not going to believe you,” Rodney says through clenched teeth.
The man stands up sharply. “The fingers and pool of blood were enough evidence for them. Sorry for that by the way. It was meant to end in complete annihilation, but we had to provide something.” He turns his back to Rodney and saunters towards the door. “And I’d say the funeral we held for you was very convincing. I know you’re a prickly person, but the masses came. Though I’m not sure about that Colonel of yours. His face was… blank.”
Rodney looks down and tries not to shake. He’s thinking too much and too quickly that his vision tunnels. “They’re not going to believe you. They will come for me.”
“Why wouldn’t they believe? Their friend died a hero. It was inevitable.” The man turns back briefly and points to the corner of the cell. “There are missile designs in this crate. You can familiarize yourself with them while we wait. We’ve got all the time of the world.”
The door slams, and Rodney flinches. He realizes he’s been mindlessly rubbing his hand-stumps. They thankfully don’t ache – it’s the only time he’s grateful to have been unconscious – but something does feel like it’s missing.
He uses some of the breathing techniques he learned from Teyla to calm down. His mind isn’t racing anymore, but no ideas come up either. His captors took everything off his body and replaced it with a dressing sack. The cell has nothing beyond straw, a basin, and some books. Tools are not in front of him, so the only option is to wait. Which could be for a while.
Rodney thunks his head against the wall and lets the damned thing wander. Wander about John and what could have been. He’s not close to giving up hope, but everything in the past few days seems like a waste. Why would he give up even a moment with John when horribleness like this can happen? Even if the feelings are fake, Rodney has to take them with his grubby eight-finger hands.
Rodney’s on an indulgence roll, so he allows himself to do something he hasn’t done in a decade. He takes a deep breath and bends his body into a poor yoga pose. He takes down his mental shields.
Specks of people flicker into his consciousness. They have to be close, possibly some prison guards, but he can’t understand them. He hasn’t been trained, so any techniques beyond shielding are a mystery. It’s incredibly curious. His brain wants to pick and pick though he fears what he might find. Rodney isn’t sure if he’s opened himself to a life of insanity or made himself whole.
Through the mess of the few people in proximity, Rodney feels it. The bright spot that could only be Sheppard. It doesn’t make sense, but there’s something magnificent there.
Rodney holds on to that bond, wraps it around and makes himself cozy. The connection is too strong to be new, and his brain has been hiding it for ages. Now that he has access, he’ll never let it go.
Everything is clear now; their link didn’t form when they first met and DNA declared them compatible. The feelings have been growing for years and feeding into a different monster. Jesus, John must be going crazy having this thing in his head. It’s like a tree spontaneously popped into his brain.
Rodney must have done something because John responds back through their brain channel thing. It’s not words – he still doesn’t have a handle on what exactly is going on, but the awareness is there nonetheless.
And Sheppard is mad. He also feels a sort of bone-crushing relief and happiness usually reserved for heroic triumphs, but mostly he’s mad as hell.
Rodney stands up from the straw bed, walks over to the corner of the cell, and grabs one of the books his kidnapper left him. He figures he doesn’t have much time to read this as the team will come rescue him soon.
Rodney’s proven correct because a hilariously short amount of time later, the doors of Rodney’s cell bust open. He barely has time to set down his book before Sheppard launches himself to the bed.
“Geez, what took you guys so long?” he says with a lap full of Colonel.
Ronon rolls his eyes. “You know we came as soon as possible. Mr. Sentinel dragged out the whole team.”
“You didn’t come soon enough. Seeing as I only have eight fingers,” he says as he tries to show off his stumps, but Sheppard’s full weight is limiting his motion. “Did you guys really not figure out what a bunch of fakes these guys are? I hope my funeral was miserable.”
“I promise it was very touching,” Teyla says kindly.
“We didn’t believe a word. Most of the blood wasn’t human. We just had to get some confirmation to get that one,” Ronon says pointing at a growling Sheppard, “out of his funk.”
Rodney gets it, not the blood thing because that’s disturbing, but he gets it. His brain is also on fire with relief and want. It’s perfectly reasonable to be glued to each other during a bond, the mixing of scent and touch is important at the beginning, but he wants to go home where they can do this properly. He’s exhausted, and while the aggressive cuddling is very nice, it’s not at all sexy. Rodney tries to show his dilemma with his eyes. He needs help to move this lump of a man.
“Welp, we kinda rushed here. There are still people to shoot, so,” Ronon says before he cowardly but unashamedly walks out.
“I will find Carson and bring him back. I am certain you two will be well in the meantime.”
“You’re both spineless!” Rodney yells to their backs. He strokes John’s hair and thinks about what to do. “I would like to leave. These past couple of days have been very hard for me. So you need to move. I also want to mention – get your nose out of my armpit you freak – that perhaps, I did not act how I truly felt during our last conversation. You know… when you said…”
“S’okay Rodney.” The words vibrate against his chest.
“No, no. I understand it now. The mental shield thing dropped, and the whole connection thing made a ton more sense. My brain is screaming right now to be honest, in a good way. But my main point is I was being a dick… and a liar.”
“It’s really fine. I get it. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“Oh. Good.”
Rodney settles back against the concrete. A piece of straw is poking into his leg, and he tries to shift a little bit. It’s quiet except for the echoes of shots from Ronon’s blaster and the beating of their hearts. Maybe it’s very loud.
“You do have to get off me. I’m very happy with this, but we should help the rest of the team. And I think I have a serious brain injury.” The couple somehow manages to stumble onto four feet. “And my fingers! Have I mentioned I am missing two fingers? Damn, I’m going to have to create some groundbreaking prosthetic technology just to be able to type at a sufficient speed.”
“Oh, that. I have your pinky and ring right here,” Sheppard says as he pats his left breast pocket.
“You absolute weirdo! You’re carrying them around? Give me my fingers back!”
John doesn’t seem to hear him because he grabs Rodney with a dopey look on his face and pulls him in for a kiss. Whatever words he was about to say were replaced with a tongue. Rodney’s hands immediately clutch his face because his body wants more. He wants to push him into a wall and keep him there, but John is pushing back with fervor. Two unmovable objects moving at a million miles per hour.
John suddenly pulls away and dashes out the door as a challenge. “I dunno Rodney, they helped me through a hard time, and they’re a big reason I was able to find you. Now I kinda like them, and you know what they say about finders-keepers.”
“Asshole! You found me! You can keep me! I need those back!” Rodney shouts as he chases him outside and into the sun.
~-~
Sometime later, the team travels to New Athos to obtain a sacred blessing before Teyla’s baby is born. Of course, Ronon, John, and Rodney got roped into helping raise one of their barns, but the trip is otherwise quite pleasant.
They finish their duties and find themselves in a meadow. The sun is bright, and Teyla smartly suggests an impromptu picnic.
“Hey Rodney! Watch this!” John says from afar as he attempts a handstand for a gaggle of children who invaded like a swarm of bees.
The lack of change between them is a relief and highly embarrassing. The team still goes out and negotiates with aliens on a daily basis, but the weirdest thing is he can go back home and have someone to laugh about it with. John falls down a ditch, and Rodney spends a week and a half playing nursemaid for a sprained ankle and enjoys it. His sweaty palms sometimes hold another person’s sweaty palms, and the galaxy feels like it has the possibility to be okay (it helps enormously that Ancient technology allowed Carson to seamlessly reattach his fingers). Semi-regularly, Rodney lets another person into his brain, and they perform super-human heroics. It’s all too comfortable.
“Should I be worried he’s going to permanently injure himself?” Rodney asks Ronon. They’re witnessing the tomfoolery from their blanket.
“I don’t care,” Ronon says picking at the grass. “I’m not his keeper. You are.”
“I disagree as I believe it is a team effort,” Teyla counters. “Though the children can get quite aggressive.”
John loses his balance and falls into a nice somersault to the giggles of the group. The side of Rodney’s mouth involuntarily ticks upward, and he feels warmth in the base of his skull. John locks eyes with him and whispers something to one of his admirers.
John breaks away and jogs back to the team. “Hiya guys. The weather’s great today. Maybe Ronon and Teyla, you wanna take a walk somewhere for a bit?”
Ronon rolls his eyes but allows himself to be dragged away by a generous Teyla. They replace John’s role with the children, and the Sateden practically carries all seven of them out of the field.
“Why did you do all that?” Rodney says as he lays down completely. John joins him and presses their shoulders together. “It’s not like we’re hankering for the alone time together.”
“I wanted to know what you’re thinking of right now.”
“What? I’m not thinking of anything. There’s absolutely nothing on my mind.”
“Yeah. Just making sure,” John says.
Rodney truly has nothing to say to that, so they just press closer together on the blanket and look at the sky.