Fanfic: Eye of the Beholder
Nov. 12th, 2011 09:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
piploverHello, all! Another auction fic that took me far, far too long finish! I'm truly sorry, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
weebeanie! I hope you enjoy!
Title: Eye of the Beholder
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay pre-slash
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 4405
Warnings: Some icky bodily functions
Nights on Atlantis were a kind of quiet rarely found on Earth. With no cars, airplanes or televisions to fill in the voids, a heavy stillness would descend on the city, when even the hum of the Ancient technology seemed softer. In Rodney McKay’s opinion, it was the best time of day to work with Colonel John Sheppard in his lab since both of them were confirmed insomniacs and it gave them something to do. Also, most of the simpering idiots otherwise known as his scientists were gone.
Most of them.
Dr. Karen Reynolds was two weeks off the Deadalus, fresh-faced and eager to please with her dedication to her work. She also had not taken her eyes off Colonel Sheppard the entire ten minutes he had been in the lab.
“Sheppard!” Rodney snapped, thrusting the small, ceramic oval he had been holding into the Colonel’s hand impatiently, trying to ignore the way his friend’s eyes had been glued to the woman’s chest before guiltily snapping back to McKay’s face. Granted, Dr. Reynolds did indeed have an impressive figure, and her blond hair was lush and long enough for almost any man’s fantasy, but when in his lab, McKay simply would not tolerate anything that took away from the science. Especially if it involved flirting with the Colonel.
Satisfied that Sheppard was once more concentrating on the matter at hand, or rather at the little gizmo in his hand, McKay turned his attention to the woman who was sitting suspiciously closer to his lab table then she had been several minutes ago.
“Dr. Reynolds, if you have nothing better to do than ogle the Colonel here then I suggest you call it a day and leave. Some of us actually have work to do.”
McKay’s eyes narrowed as Reynolds flushed, her eyes flickering for just a moment to Sheppard’s face before returning to her laptop, where the screensaver had been flashing goldfish for the past five minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sheppard’s eye roll and clenched his teeth.
“Out. Now!” he bellowed, pointing to the doorway and glaring ferociously at the woman as she scrambled to shut her computer down, nearly falling out of her chair in her haste to leave. “And don’t you dare come back until you’re ready to actually work! The labs are not the place to be daydreaming!”
“Jeez, McKay, don’t you think you were kind of hard on her?” Sheppard asked, only to be skewered with one of the scientist’s more impressive glares. Holding his hands up defensively, the little ball still clutched possessively in his right, John offered one of his more charming smiles. “I’m just saying… She’s only been here for a few weeks. Maybe cut her a little slack?”
“And just why exactly should I do that, Colonel? Because she has big breasts and a pretty smile?” McKay demanded, grinning without mirth as the other man flushed. “All the more reason for me to be hard on her. If she’s come this far on her good looks and charm then she needs to learn that a lot more is needed if she’s going to last on Atlantis. Big breasts aren’t a lot of help if you do something to get your coworkers killed, are they? And if she is actually as smart as Zelenka thinks she is, then the sooner she learns the labs aren’t a pick-up bar, the more productive she, and the rest of the minions, will be. Now, is that actually doing anything or is it a pretty paper weight?” Rodney demanded, gesturing toward the oval in the Colonel’s hand.
Sheppard blinked, momentarily taken off balance by the abrupt change in subject, before turning his concentration back to the little ceramic ball. After a moment of awkward silence the soft fragrance of roses wafted to their noses.
“Umm, I think it’s actually an air freshener,“ he admitted after nothing more happened.
“Figures,” Rodney muttered, snapping his fingers and holding out his hand, attention already moving on to the next artifact.
***
The lab was unusually busy the next morning, with six scientists handpicked by McKay to accompany SGA-1 to MX7-859, an abandoned Ancient outpost that Major Lorne’s team had stumbled upon several days before. Initial readings had indicated a large energy source somewhere in the underground complex, possibly even a ZPM, and Rodney was chomping at the bit to head out.
In an effort to try and calm some of his energy he found himself going over each of the scientists’ packs with them, though each of the six had been off world several times. McKay refused to allow anyone near the outpost who had no field experience, a fact that did not, however, prevent his scientists from making stupid mistakes.
“Farida, what is this?” McKay demanded, holding up a red, lacy thong, scowling at the woman before him as she grabbed the underwear and tucked it away in her jacket pocket, flushing as brightly as the clothing article in question. “I seriously hope that what you’re currently wearing is a lot more practical, since MX7-859 happens to be a tropical climate with an average rainfall of two meters a year. Do you know what chaffing is, Dr. Mehra? Does Carson need to do a PowerPoint on the dangers of fungal infections?”
“No, Dr. McKay,” the petite, black haired doctor mumbled, her face now a dark crimson as she looked determinedly over McKay’s shoulder. “I don’t know how they got in there, Sir, but I’ll go replace them with a sensible pair right now.”
“You do that, Doctor,” he growled before turning his attention to the rest of his science team. “And if any of the rest of you have anything similar in your packs, then I suggest you get your heads out of your asses and fix it right now. This isn’t a pleasure excursion, this is a scientific reconnaissance. Who knows what we’ll find once we get there, and if the worse happens and the Wraith do stop by, I don’t want any of you having the slightest trouble running away because you’re too busy pulling your panties out of your ass to get a move on. Now go repack your things and report back here in thirty minutes.”
Rodney watched with satisfaction as the group disappeared before turning his attention to those in the lab around him. None of the scientists dared to look away from their computers, but he could tell several of them were amused. He snorted in disgust as he headed over to his own table. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted movement and grit his teeth, plunking down in his chair hard.
“Dr. McKay, I was just wondering – “
“No, Dr. Reynolds,” he interrupted without looking up. His good mood vanished as he determinedly set about double checking his own pack, not looking at the woman beside him. “I’ve already told you, several times, I might add, that you are not qualified to go on this mission. No one without at least three trips through the Gate is going. Once you’ve gained some field experience, then you might be considered for further outings. Until then, I suggest you concentrate on those schematics Dr. Zelenka gave you this morning. Oh, and get me another coffee,” he added, noticing his empty mug and pushing it towards her even as he added another pen to his pack. A scientist could never have too many pens.
“But, Sir, I just – “ the woman protested even as she automatically picked up the mug. “If you would just -”
“I said no, and I meant it!” Rodney snapped, finally looking up and meeting the woman’s eyes. “If you ask again I will guarantee that you won’t be going on any missions anytime soon, is that clear?”
Reynolds swallowed, her full mouth compressed into a thin line, red splotches highlighting her sharp cheekbones as she nodded, once, lowering her eyes and walking stiffly over to the coffee pot. When the steaming mug was placed by his hand with an ominous thunk and a splash of the liquid, Rodney found himself growling at the woman’s back as she made her way to her lab bench. Silence hung heavy in the air, no one daring to break the tension that had settled during the brief exchange.
“Sheppard to McKay. Did you forget about the meeting this morning?”
The Colonel’s voice in his ear startled a curse out of the scientist, his hand reaching up to tap his headset even as he automatically checked his watch.
“I’m on my way now, Colonel,” McKay answered, casting one last scowl around his lab before grabbing his laptop and heading out. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Don’t forget your coffee!” Zelenka called just as he reached the door.
“What? Oh, God, yes, what was I thinking?” McKay mumbled, heading back to his table to grab the mug. “Nobody blow anything up while I’m away!”
Zelenka waved absently, already engrossed in whatever his computer was telling him, and Rodney found himself smiling again as he made his way down the corridor to the nearest transporter.
***
Rodney made it to the briefing just as everyone took their seats, earning a raised eyebrow from Weir and a smirk from Sheppard. Teyla, as always, smiled serenely at him, and Ronon just nodded his head in silent greeting.
“Sorry,” McKay mumbled, hastily sitting in the empty chair beside Sheppard, busying himself with preparing his laptop as he continued. “Some of the scientists don’t know how to pack.”
“Have they not all gone on missions before?” Teyla asked quietly, amusement in her voice as she raised her own eyebrow at him.
Rodney scowled, though he very carefully directed it at his computer. He did, after all, have a very healthy sense of self preservation.
“Actually, yes,” he finally answered, raising his eyes to cast a sardonic look her way. “I made it very clear that no one is allowed on this one unless they’ve been through the Gate several times. However, I’m seriously wondering if even that was too generous of me after some of the items I found.”
“What did you –“ Sheppard began, leaning closer to his friend, eyes brightening mischievously.
Weir’s throat clearing interrupted the Colonel before he could finish his question, scowl preventing any further discussion between the two of them.
“Gentlemen, Teyla, if we can begin?” she asked, the tinge of exasperation in her voice ignored by the two men, who shared a conspiratorial smile and a promise to gossip later.
The next hour and a half consisted of nitpicking the details, hammering out the final decisions on which Marines would be with which scientists, and in what parts of the complex the group would explore collectively. By the time the meeting came to a close nearly everyone was satisfied with the plan, and even Rodney had to admit that there was little chance of his scientists causing a disaster with the safety measures they had agreed upon.
“I say lunch,” Sheppard sighed, stretching his arms over his head and yawning hugely as he stood, one graceful motion that had Rodney’s eyes riveted to the pale sliver of skin that peaked above the Colonel’s blue stripped boxers.
“I could – use some food,” he mumbled, managing to turn his gaze away before anyone noticed he had been staring. At least he hoped it was in time. “Aren’t they having spaghetti for lunch today?”
“Pasta,” Ronon hummed happily, teeth gleaming as he smiled. “With that green stuff.”
Sheppard shuddered as he leaned down to whisper in Rodney’s ear, warm breath puffing against the sensitive flesh. “He likes spinach!”
McKay shuddered himself, though not for exactly the same reasons as his friend.
“Spinach is a perfectly good source of - green stuff – if nothing else is available, and there is nothing wrong with liking green stuff if one is so inclined that way,” McKay defended, grinning at the look of disgust that crossed Sheppard’s face.
Another shiver made its way down Rodney’s spine, only this one had nothing to do with the Colonel or spinach. Goosebumps raised the hair on his arms and he felt the skin on the back of his neck tighten with cold.
“Did we lose environmental in here?” he asked, finally pushing himself up from his chair as his teammates began to file past him. “I mean, seriously, it feels whoa!”
Black spots swirled and clouded into his vision as the world dipped under his feet. Some tiny portion of his mind that wasn’t occupied with trying not to throw up was aware that he was gripping the edge of the table desperately, the metal warm and smooth beneath his cold, sweat damp hands. Scalding fingers clamped tightly around his forearms, easing him back into his chair.
“Rodney?” Teyla’s voice was slightly muffled by the blood pounding in his ears, but after a few deep breaths he was able to smile weakly up at her.
“Stood up too fast,” he murmured. “Just give me a moment.”
“Did you eat something this morning?” Sheppard demanded, and Rodney realized that it was the Colonel’s hands that were holding him steady. Even though he was seated, his friend had not released his grip.
“I had – had eggs, and…Oh, God!” Nausea rolled over him and hot bile flooded his mouth. He managed to turn his head away from Sheppard before he vomited, but it was a very near thing, and he could feel the foul mess covering the right side of his jacket arm and pant leg.
“Oh, God,” he muttered again, squeezing his eyes shut in horrified embarrassment even as another wave had him covering his mouth with a shaking hand, trying not to be sick all over himself again.
Something was thrust under his chin and a moment later he lost his battle with the nausea, losing whatever else was left in his stomach. Dimly he could hear Weir calling for a medical team, worry tinged with her own sympathetic queasiness wavering her voice.
“You all done, Buddy?” Sheppard asked calmly from behind him after a moment, a warm hand absently stroking Rodney’s back in soothing up and down motions, the other resting comfortingly on his neck.
“I think,” Rodney managed, bringing in a shuddering breath. His stomach lurched and he found himself heaving over the waste basket again. There was nothing left to bring up, though, and he found himself coughing miserably.
“Rodney?” Teyla’s gentle voice had him blinking, looking up blurrily as much as he dared, afraid to move too far from the basket being held in front of him by a giant form. Ronon, his mind supplied. “Rodney, are you in pain?” Teyla’s voice again, followed by an equally gentle hand caressing his forehead. “No fever,” she murmured.
“Rodney? Talk to us, Buddy,” Sheppard coaxed, the hand on his neck squeezing slightly.
“C-cold!” McKay managed to whisper, voice raspy and hoarse from the vomiting. He could feel tremors shaking his body, his vision wavering as he attempted to raise his head and signal to Ronon that he was done being sick.
Before anymore questions could be asked the sound of several running feet filled the corridor outside and Carson’s voice yelling indecipherable orders floated into the room.
“Thank God,” he heard Elizabeth mutter, felt Sheppard’s grip on his arm and neck tighten, Teyla’s warm presence leaving his side even as another blurry shape took her place.
“Rodney, can you hear me?” The Scottish brogue was like music to his ears, a symphony of cool relief and reassurance that had McKay’s eyes closing in gratitude.
“Yes,” he mumbled, working numb lips to form the word. “Yes.”
***
The waiting room in Atlantis wasn’t so much a waiting room as it was collection of chairs pushed to the side of where the majority of the beds were kept. A person pacing within the small confines of the allotted space could hear everything going on behind curtained alcoves. Carson’s swearing, a machine beeping indignantly, even one Dr. Rodney McKay groaning pitifully. All floated out to the small group congregated near the back of the room, anxiously waiting for any news on their friend.
The minutes ticked away slowly, an inevitable slipping of time that had all those gathered on edge. Ronon fidgeted absentmindedly with a knife, twirling it between his fingers. Teyla sat quietly beside him, face troubled beneath her serene mask, hands clasped tightly in her lap as she chanted prayers under her breath, too softly for the words to be made out.
Elizabeth had occupied the space of wall between Teyla’s chair and the main walkway for a brief time until she had been called away, Chuck’s voice floating over her earpiece in regretful tones calling her back to business. With a silent pat to Teyla’s arm she had left, one last look over her shoulder the only goodbye she offered to the team.
Pacing restlessly from one side of the small space to the other, Colonel Sheppard either hadn’t noticed her departure or hadn’t cared, hands folded across his chest as his slow, methodical steps continued.
A rustle behind the curtain hiding Rodney from view brought all three heads up, Sheppard’s gate faltering as a nurse emerged, her white scrub top marred on the left shoulder by a suspicious yellow stain. She froze for a moment, taking in the team members before quickly moving over to them, stripping off her latex gloves with absentminded movements, holding them wadded in her left hand as she approached.
“He’s stable for the moment,” were the first words out of her mouth as she stopped a few feet from where the Colonel stood. A collective sigh of relief escaped all three mouths, Teyla slumping back in her chair with a weary shudder, eyes closed for a brief moment as Ronon clapped a hand on her shoulder and grinned.
“What’s wrong with him?” Sheppard asked softly, his shoulders relaxed for the first time since Rodney had become sick. “He was fine one minute and the next - a replay of the Exorcist.”
“We’re still trying to determine that, Colonel,” the nurse sighed, rubbing her upper arm against her forehead, as though she had forgotten then she had stripped her gloves off. “We’ve sent the contents of his stomach off to be analyzed as well as several blood samples. We should have more information shortly,” she assured him. Then her expression darkened and she took a deep breath before saying, “We don’t think this is natural, however.”
At Sheppard’s blank stare, she licked her lips and said, slowly, “Colonel, it appears that Dr. McKay has been compromised by an unknown agent.”
“He’s been poisoned,” Ronon snarled, the knife in his hand clenched between pale-knuckled fingers.
“Yes,” the nurse said. She waited a moment to see if there were any further questions before returning to her patient, closing the curtains behind her with a snap of the metal rings.
When Sheppard contacted Weir a moment later, his voice was grim. “Dr. Weir? We have a situation.”
***
All Gate travel was suspended and unessential personal were told to remain in their quarters. Scans were run throughout the city, looking for anything out of the ordinary, any trace of an intruder. Dr. McKay’s room was searched, as was his lab and his equipment. Though it had only been 45 minutes since the poisoning had been detected, word had spread quickly, and there was no resistance to the sudden lockdown.
Dr. Weir was once more in the waiting room, watching Sheppard pace with her arms crossed firmly over her chest. A steady stream of updates murmured in her ear, confirming negative scan after negative scan.
Carson came out of his office, shoulders hunched, and motioned them all inside, his face carefully neutral. The small entourage wasted no time filing into the small room, huddling around the doctor’s desk as he seated himself warily behind it.
The door firmly locked once they were all inside, and the windows darkened at an unspoken command. Even so, Carson cast a nervous glance around, as though expecting to see the instigator listening intently to their conversation.
“Right. We’ve confirmed that it was poison,” he began without preamble. “There was a high concentration of tetrahydrozoline in his blood. As to how it got there, I suspect it was in his coffee.” At the blank looks he received he rubbed a hand over his eyes and explained, “Tetrahydrozoline is often found in nasal sprays and eye drops. It restricts the blood vessels to get rid of the redness of the eyes and is part of the -”
Carson!” Sheppard’s voice, sharp as any knife, cut through the other’s rambling. “So what you’re saying is that one of our own did this. That practically anyone with access to Dr. McKay’s coffee could have poisoned him, correct?”
“Aye, that’s what I’m saying,” Carson agreed heavily.
“So either we have a traitor amongst us,” Sheppard growled, eyes narrowing, “or an intruder who just happens to know about earth based urban legends.”
“Urban legends?” Teyla asked, looking from Sheppard to Weir and back again.
“A story that’s been told several times until people either don’t realize it isn’t true or the truth has been stripped from it,” Weir explained. At Teyla’s and Ronon’s continued blank stares Sheppard chimed in, “Like if I said that wearing the color red makes certain animals angry, and someone else agreed with me, that would be the start of an urban legend. If enough people hear about it, they soon start to believe that the color red will make a certain animal angry and then avoid wearing that color around the animal. Even if there’s no truth behind what I’ve said.”
“So what urban legend is associated with poisoning Dr. McKay that would make one of your people think it was acceptable?” Teyla demanded, color darkening her cheeks.
Dr. Weir turned a slight shade of pink and crossed her arms over her chest even as Sheppard looked down at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. After a moment of silence it was Carson who answered the question, his own eyes glinting in anger as he explained, softly, “On Earth, it is a common misconception that giving someone a drink spiked with eye drops will only cause that person to have diarrhea.”
“That is a terrible thing to do,” Teyla finally grit out, voice tight with anger and something far less pleasant.
“On Seteda a person would be whipped for that,” Ronon growled, his giant hands clenched into fists. “Do your people not understand how debilitating that can be?”
“They do,” Sheppard sighed, making a placating gesture with one hand even as the other continued to rub his neck. “At least, the smart ones do. I didn’t realize we had any of the stupid ones with us.”
“How fast does this - poison - act?” Teyla asked softly, clearly feeling no need to attempt to call the substance by it’s name. It had caused her teammate harm, and was therefore nothing more than what she labeled it.
“Depending on the amount ingested, it can take effect within a few hours. I think you can rule anyone out who wasn’t in contact within that time frame,” Carson advised.
“That leaves a number of the scientists and a few marines,” Sheppard murmured, bowing his head as he thought. “I think we need to -”
There was a soft tapping on the door, followed by a slightly more determined knock.
“Enter,” Carson called, thinking the door unlocked.
One of the female scientists stood there, a small woman with dark black hair that tumbled to her shoulders, her nation patch indicating she was from India. When she spoke, her voice wavered slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she began, her face pale and nearly grey-toned beneath her usual caramel complexion.
“What’s wrong, Farida?” Carson asked gently, standing slowly as she made her way into what little room was left in the small office.
“I - I know who poisoned Dr. McKay,” she whispered.
***
Dr. Emily Reynolds looked small and defeated as she was led through the Gate room to the designated spot and beamed aboard the Deadalus.
Watching her depart, still pale from his ordeal and moving rather stiffly, McKay stood on the overlooking balcony, Sheppard by his side as the guards resumed their posts, their task complete.
“Hard to believe all that was over wanting to get some field time,” McKay sighed, brushing his hands and making a throwing away gesture. “Oh, well. When can we get back on schedule?” he demanded, turning back to Sheppard as though watching his would-be murderer being taken away for a court hearing was nothing unusual.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Sheppard demanded, eyeing his friend as though he were crazy. “That woman poisons you and you’re just - just going to forget about it and move on?”
“You obviously are new to academia,” McKay snorted. “Trust me, I’m far more concerned with how she got to Atlantis when she obviously wasn’t smart enough to realize that Tetrahydrozoline does a lot of things, but causing diarrhea isn’t one of them. I mean, honestly, I’m not surprised she was a waitress, but I would have thought that someone who claims to have her IQ would have figured the truth out before now.”
Sheppard shook his head, uncertain how to respond.
“At least you didn’t sleep with her. Then I would have had absolutely no respect for you,” McKay added, making his way past the stunned Colonel to the lift. “Are you coming?”
For a long moment, Sheppard stood there, uncertainty writ clear on his face, before he seemed to make a decision and nodded, once. He waited only until the doors to the lift had closed before he slammed his hand against he sensor plate and the light dimmed.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he said softly, moving so close to McKay that his breath puffed warm against the other man’s cheek.
“Which part?” McKay asked, seemingly unbothered by his friend’s closeness. In fact, he shifted a bit, so that their lips were only a few inches apart, his eyes riveted to the Colonel’s.
“Any of it,” Sheppard murmured, and kissed him.
The lift was out of service for a very, very long time.
weebeanie! I hope you enjoy! Title: Eye of the Beholder
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay pre-slash
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 4405
Warnings: Some icky bodily functions
Nights on Atlantis were a kind of quiet rarely found on Earth. With no cars, airplanes or televisions to fill in the voids, a heavy stillness would descend on the city, when even the hum of the Ancient technology seemed softer. In Rodney McKay’s opinion, it was the best time of day to work with Colonel John Sheppard in his lab since both of them were confirmed insomniacs and it gave them something to do. Also, most of the simpering idiots otherwise known as his scientists were gone.
Most of them.
Dr. Karen Reynolds was two weeks off the Deadalus, fresh-faced and eager to please with her dedication to her work. She also had not taken her eyes off Colonel Sheppard the entire ten minutes he had been in the lab.
“Sheppard!” Rodney snapped, thrusting the small, ceramic oval he had been holding into the Colonel’s hand impatiently, trying to ignore the way his friend’s eyes had been glued to the woman’s chest before guiltily snapping back to McKay’s face. Granted, Dr. Reynolds did indeed have an impressive figure, and her blond hair was lush and long enough for almost any man’s fantasy, but when in his lab, McKay simply would not tolerate anything that took away from the science. Especially if it involved flirting with the Colonel.
Satisfied that Sheppard was once more concentrating on the matter at hand, or rather at the little gizmo in his hand, McKay turned his attention to the woman who was sitting suspiciously closer to his lab table then she had been several minutes ago.
“Dr. Reynolds, if you have nothing better to do than ogle the Colonel here then I suggest you call it a day and leave. Some of us actually have work to do.”
McKay’s eyes narrowed as Reynolds flushed, her eyes flickering for just a moment to Sheppard’s face before returning to her laptop, where the screensaver had been flashing goldfish for the past five minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sheppard’s eye roll and clenched his teeth.
“Out. Now!” he bellowed, pointing to the doorway and glaring ferociously at the woman as she scrambled to shut her computer down, nearly falling out of her chair in her haste to leave. “And don’t you dare come back until you’re ready to actually work! The labs are not the place to be daydreaming!”
“Jeez, McKay, don’t you think you were kind of hard on her?” Sheppard asked, only to be skewered with one of the scientist’s more impressive glares. Holding his hands up defensively, the little ball still clutched possessively in his right, John offered one of his more charming smiles. “I’m just saying… She’s only been here for a few weeks. Maybe cut her a little slack?”
“And just why exactly should I do that, Colonel? Because she has big breasts and a pretty smile?” McKay demanded, grinning without mirth as the other man flushed. “All the more reason for me to be hard on her. If she’s come this far on her good looks and charm then she needs to learn that a lot more is needed if she’s going to last on Atlantis. Big breasts aren’t a lot of help if you do something to get your coworkers killed, are they? And if she is actually as smart as Zelenka thinks she is, then the sooner she learns the labs aren’t a pick-up bar, the more productive she, and the rest of the minions, will be. Now, is that actually doing anything or is it a pretty paper weight?” Rodney demanded, gesturing toward the oval in the Colonel’s hand.
Sheppard blinked, momentarily taken off balance by the abrupt change in subject, before turning his concentration back to the little ceramic ball. After a moment of awkward silence the soft fragrance of roses wafted to their noses.
“Umm, I think it’s actually an air freshener,“ he admitted after nothing more happened.
“Figures,” Rodney muttered, snapping his fingers and holding out his hand, attention already moving on to the next artifact.
***
The lab was unusually busy the next morning, with six scientists handpicked by McKay to accompany SGA-1 to MX7-859, an abandoned Ancient outpost that Major Lorne’s team had stumbled upon several days before. Initial readings had indicated a large energy source somewhere in the underground complex, possibly even a ZPM, and Rodney was chomping at the bit to head out.
In an effort to try and calm some of his energy he found himself going over each of the scientists’ packs with them, though each of the six had been off world several times. McKay refused to allow anyone near the outpost who had no field experience, a fact that did not, however, prevent his scientists from making stupid mistakes.
“Farida, what is this?” McKay demanded, holding up a red, lacy thong, scowling at the woman before him as she grabbed the underwear and tucked it away in her jacket pocket, flushing as brightly as the clothing article in question. “I seriously hope that what you’re currently wearing is a lot more practical, since MX7-859 happens to be a tropical climate with an average rainfall of two meters a year. Do you know what chaffing is, Dr. Mehra? Does Carson need to do a PowerPoint on the dangers of fungal infections?”
“No, Dr. McKay,” the petite, black haired doctor mumbled, her face now a dark crimson as she looked determinedly over McKay’s shoulder. “I don’t know how they got in there, Sir, but I’ll go replace them with a sensible pair right now.”
“You do that, Doctor,” he growled before turning his attention to the rest of his science team. “And if any of the rest of you have anything similar in your packs, then I suggest you get your heads out of your asses and fix it right now. This isn’t a pleasure excursion, this is a scientific reconnaissance. Who knows what we’ll find once we get there, and if the worse happens and the Wraith do stop by, I don’t want any of you having the slightest trouble running away because you’re too busy pulling your panties out of your ass to get a move on. Now go repack your things and report back here in thirty minutes.”
Rodney watched with satisfaction as the group disappeared before turning his attention to those in the lab around him. None of the scientists dared to look away from their computers, but he could tell several of them were amused. He snorted in disgust as he headed over to his own table. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted movement and grit his teeth, plunking down in his chair hard.
“Dr. McKay, I was just wondering – “
“No, Dr. Reynolds,” he interrupted without looking up. His good mood vanished as he determinedly set about double checking his own pack, not looking at the woman beside him. “I’ve already told you, several times, I might add, that you are not qualified to go on this mission. No one without at least three trips through the Gate is going. Once you’ve gained some field experience, then you might be considered for further outings. Until then, I suggest you concentrate on those schematics Dr. Zelenka gave you this morning. Oh, and get me another coffee,” he added, noticing his empty mug and pushing it towards her even as he added another pen to his pack. A scientist could never have too many pens.
“But, Sir, I just – “ the woman protested even as she automatically picked up the mug. “If you would just -”
“I said no, and I meant it!” Rodney snapped, finally looking up and meeting the woman’s eyes. “If you ask again I will guarantee that you won’t be going on any missions anytime soon, is that clear?”
Reynolds swallowed, her full mouth compressed into a thin line, red splotches highlighting her sharp cheekbones as she nodded, once, lowering her eyes and walking stiffly over to the coffee pot. When the steaming mug was placed by his hand with an ominous thunk and a splash of the liquid, Rodney found himself growling at the woman’s back as she made her way to her lab bench. Silence hung heavy in the air, no one daring to break the tension that had settled during the brief exchange.
“Sheppard to McKay. Did you forget about the meeting this morning?”
The Colonel’s voice in his ear startled a curse out of the scientist, his hand reaching up to tap his headset even as he automatically checked his watch.
“I’m on my way now, Colonel,” McKay answered, casting one last scowl around his lab before grabbing his laptop and heading out. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Don’t forget your coffee!” Zelenka called just as he reached the door.
“What? Oh, God, yes, what was I thinking?” McKay mumbled, heading back to his table to grab the mug. “Nobody blow anything up while I’m away!”
Zelenka waved absently, already engrossed in whatever his computer was telling him, and Rodney found himself smiling again as he made his way down the corridor to the nearest transporter.
***
Rodney made it to the briefing just as everyone took their seats, earning a raised eyebrow from Weir and a smirk from Sheppard. Teyla, as always, smiled serenely at him, and Ronon just nodded his head in silent greeting.
“Sorry,” McKay mumbled, hastily sitting in the empty chair beside Sheppard, busying himself with preparing his laptop as he continued. “Some of the scientists don’t know how to pack.”
“Have they not all gone on missions before?” Teyla asked quietly, amusement in her voice as she raised her own eyebrow at him.
Rodney scowled, though he very carefully directed it at his computer. He did, after all, have a very healthy sense of self preservation.
“Actually, yes,” he finally answered, raising his eyes to cast a sardonic look her way. “I made it very clear that no one is allowed on this one unless they’ve been through the Gate several times. However, I’m seriously wondering if even that was too generous of me after some of the items I found.”
“What did you –“ Sheppard began, leaning closer to his friend, eyes brightening mischievously.
Weir’s throat clearing interrupted the Colonel before he could finish his question, scowl preventing any further discussion between the two of them.
“Gentlemen, Teyla, if we can begin?” she asked, the tinge of exasperation in her voice ignored by the two men, who shared a conspiratorial smile and a promise to gossip later.
The next hour and a half consisted of nitpicking the details, hammering out the final decisions on which Marines would be with which scientists, and in what parts of the complex the group would explore collectively. By the time the meeting came to a close nearly everyone was satisfied with the plan, and even Rodney had to admit that there was little chance of his scientists causing a disaster with the safety measures they had agreed upon.
“I say lunch,” Sheppard sighed, stretching his arms over his head and yawning hugely as he stood, one graceful motion that had Rodney’s eyes riveted to the pale sliver of skin that peaked above the Colonel’s blue stripped boxers.
“I could – use some food,” he mumbled, managing to turn his gaze away before anyone noticed he had been staring. At least he hoped it was in time. “Aren’t they having spaghetti for lunch today?”
“Pasta,” Ronon hummed happily, teeth gleaming as he smiled. “With that green stuff.”
Sheppard shuddered as he leaned down to whisper in Rodney’s ear, warm breath puffing against the sensitive flesh. “He likes spinach!”
McKay shuddered himself, though not for exactly the same reasons as his friend.
“Spinach is a perfectly good source of - green stuff – if nothing else is available, and there is nothing wrong with liking green stuff if one is so inclined that way,” McKay defended, grinning at the look of disgust that crossed Sheppard’s face.
Another shiver made its way down Rodney’s spine, only this one had nothing to do with the Colonel or spinach. Goosebumps raised the hair on his arms and he felt the skin on the back of his neck tighten with cold.
“Did we lose environmental in here?” he asked, finally pushing himself up from his chair as his teammates began to file past him. “I mean, seriously, it feels whoa!”
Black spots swirled and clouded into his vision as the world dipped under his feet. Some tiny portion of his mind that wasn’t occupied with trying not to throw up was aware that he was gripping the edge of the table desperately, the metal warm and smooth beneath his cold, sweat damp hands. Scalding fingers clamped tightly around his forearms, easing him back into his chair.
“Rodney?” Teyla’s voice was slightly muffled by the blood pounding in his ears, but after a few deep breaths he was able to smile weakly up at her.
“Stood up too fast,” he murmured. “Just give me a moment.”
“Did you eat something this morning?” Sheppard demanded, and Rodney realized that it was the Colonel’s hands that were holding him steady. Even though he was seated, his friend had not released his grip.
“I had – had eggs, and…Oh, God!” Nausea rolled over him and hot bile flooded his mouth. He managed to turn his head away from Sheppard before he vomited, but it was a very near thing, and he could feel the foul mess covering the right side of his jacket arm and pant leg.
“Oh, God,” he muttered again, squeezing his eyes shut in horrified embarrassment even as another wave had him covering his mouth with a shaking hand, trying not to be sick all over himself again.
Something was thrust under his chin and a moment later he lost his battle with the nausea, losing whatever else was left in his stomach. Dimly he could hear Weir calling for a medical team, worry tinged with her own sympathetic queasiness wavering her voice.
“You all done, Buddy?” Sheppard asked calmly from behind him after a moment, a warm hand absently stroking Rodney’s back in soothing up and down motions, the other resting comfortingly on his neck.
“I think,” Rodney managed, bringing in a shuddering breath. His stomach lurched and he found himself heaving over the waste basket again. There was nothing left to bring up, though, and he found himself coughing miserably.
“Rodney?” Teyla’s gentle voice had him blinking, looking up blurrily as much as he dared, afraid to move too far from the basket being held in front of him by a giant form. Ronon, his mind supplied. “Rodney, are you in pain?” Teyla’s voice again, followed by an equally gentle hand caressing his forehead. “No fever,” she murmured.
“Rodney? Talk to us, Buddy,” Sheppard coaxed, the hand on his neck squeezing slightly.
“C-cold!” McKay managed to whisper, voice raspy and hoarse from the vomiting. He could feel tremors shaking his body, his vision wavering as he attempted to raise his head and signal to Ronon that he was done being sick.
Before anymore questions could be asked the sound of several running feet filled the corridor outside and Carson’s voice yelling indecipherable orders floated into the room.
“Thank God,” he heard Elizabeth mutter, felt Sheppard’s grip on his arm and neck tighten, Teyla’s warm presence leaving his side even as another blurry shape took her place.
“Rodney, can you hear me?” The Scottish brogue was like music to his ears, a symphony of cool relief and reassurance that had McKay’s eyes closing in gratitude.
“Yes,” he mumbled, working numb lips to form the word. “Yes.”
***
The waiting room in Atlantis wasn’t so much a waiting room as it was collection of chairs pushed to the side of where the majority of the beds were kept. A person pacing within the small confines of the allotted space could hear everything going on behind curtained alcoves. Carson’s swearing, a machine beeping indignantly, even one Dr. Rodney McKay groaning pitifully. All floated out to the small group congregated near the back of the room, anxiously waiting for any news on their friend.
The minutes ticked away slowly, an inevitable slipping of time that had all those gathered on edge. Ronon fidgeted absentmindedly with a knife, twirling it between his fingers. Teyla sat quietly beside him, face troubled beneath her serene mask, hands clasped tightly in her lap as she chanted prayers under her breath, too softly for the words to be made out.
Elizabeth had occupied the space of wall between Teyla’s chair and the main walkway for a brief time until she had been called away, Chuck’s voice floating over her earpiece in regretful tones calling her back to business. With a silent pat to Teyla’s arm she had left, one last look over her shoulder the only goodbye she offered to the team.
Pacing restlessly from one side of the small space to the other, Colonel Sheppard either hadn’t noticed her departure or hadn’t cared, hands folded across his chest as his slow, methodical steps continued.
A rustle behind the curtain hiding Rodney from view brought all three heads up, Sheppard’s gate faltering as a nurse emerged, her white scrub top marred on the left shoulder by a suspicious yellow stain. She froze for a moment, taking in the team members before quickly moving over to them, stripping off her latex gloves with absentminded movements, holding them wadded in her left hand as she approached.
“He’s stable for the moment,” were the first words out of her mouth as she stopped a few feet from where the Colonel stood. A collective sigh of relief escaped all three mouths, Teyla slumping back in her chair with a weary shudder, eyes closed for a brief moment as Ronon clapped a hand on her shoulder and grinned.
“What’s wrong with him?” Sheppard asked softly, his shoulders relaxed for the first time since Rodney had become sick. “He was fine one minute and the next - a replay of the Exorcist.”
“We’re still trying to determine that, Colonel,” the nurse sighed, rubbing her upper arm against her forehead, as though she had forgotten then she had stripped her gloves off. “We’ve sent the contents of his stomach off to be analyzed as well as several blood samples. We should have more information shortly,” she assured him. Then her expression darkened and she took a deep breath before saying, “We don’t think this is natural, however.”
At Sheppard’s blank stare, she licked her lips and said, slowly, “Colonel, it appears that Dr. McKay has been compromised by an unknown agent.”
“He’s been poisoned,” Ronon snarled, the knife in his hand clenched between pale-knuckled fingers.
“Yes,” the nurse said. She waited a moment to see if there were any further questions before returning to her patient, closing the curtains behind her with a snap of the metal rings.
When Sheppard contacted Weir a moment later, his voice was grim. “Dr. Weir? We have a situation.”
***
All Gate travel was suspended and unessential personal were told to remain in their quarters. Scans were run throughout the city, looking for anything out of the ordinary, any trace of an intruder. Dr. McKay’s room was searched, as was his lab and his equipment. Though it had only been 45 minutes since the poisoning had been detected, word had spread quickly, and there was no resistance to the sudden lockdown.
Dr. Weir was once more in the waiting room, watching Sheppard pace with her arms crossed firmly over her chest. A steady stream of updates murmured in her ear, confirming negative scan after negative scan.
Carson came out of his office, shoulders hunched, and motioned them all inside, his face carefully neutral. The small entourage wasted no time filing into the small room, huddling around the doctor’s desk as he seated himself warily behind it.
The door firmly locked once they were all inside, and the windows darkened at an unspoken command. Even so, Carson cast a nervous glance around, as though expecting to see the instigator listening intently to their conversation.
“Right. We’ve confirmed that it was poison,” he began without preamble. “There was a high concentration of tetrahydrozoline in his blood. As to how it got there, I suspect it was in his coffee.” At the blank looks he received he rubbed a hand over his eyes and explained, “Tetrahydrozoline is often found in nasal sprays and eye drops. It restricts the blood vessels to get rid of the redness of the eyes and is part of the -”
Carson!” Sheppard’s voice, sharp as any knife, cut through the other’s rambling. “So what you’re saying is that one of our own did this. That practically anyone with access to Dr. McKay’s coffee could have poisoned him, correct?”
“Aye, that’s what I’m saying,” Carson agreed heavily.
“So either we have a traitor amongst us,” Sheppard growled, eyes narrowing, “or an intruder who just happens to know about earth based urban legends.”
“Urban legends?” Teyla asked, looking from Sheppard to Weir and back again.
“A story that’s been told several times until people either don’t realize it isn’t true or the truth has been stripped from it,” Weir explained. At Teyla’s and Ronon’s continued blank stares Sheppard chimed in, “Like if I said that wearing the color red makes certain animals angry, and someone else agreed with me, that would be the start of an urban legend. If enough people hear about it, they soon start to believe that the color red will make a certain animal angry and then avoid wearing that color around the animal. Even if there’s no truth behind what I’ve said.”
“So what urban legend is associated with poisoning Dr. McKay that would make one of your people think it was acceptable?” Teyla demanded, color darkening her cheeks.
Dr. Weir turned a slight shade of pink and crossed her arms over her chest even as Sheppard looked down at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. After a moment of silence it was Carson who answered the question, his own eyes glinting in anger as he explained, softly, “On Earth, it is a common misconception that giving someone a drink spiked with eye drops will only cause that person to have diarrhea.”
“That is a terrible thing to do,” Teyla finally grit out, voice tight with anger and something far less pleasant.
“On Seteda a person would be whipped for that,” Ronon growled, his giant hands clenched into fists. “Do your people not understand how debilitating that can be?”
“They do,” Sheppard sighed, making a placating gesture with one hand even as the other continued to rub his neck. “At least, the smart ones do. I didn’t realize we had any of the stupid ones with us.”
“How fast does this - poison - act?” Teyla asked softly, clearly feeling no need to attempt to call the substance by it’s name. It had caused her teammate harm, and was therefore nothing more than what she labeled it.
“Depending on the amount ingested, it can take effect within a few hours. I think you can rule anyone out who wasn’t in contact within that time frame,” Carson advised.
“That leaves a number of the scientists and a few marines,” Sheppard murmured, bowing his head as he thought. “I think we need to -”
There was a soft tapping on the door, followed by a slightly more determined knock.
“Enter,” Carson called, thinking the door unlocked.
One of the female scientists stood there, a small woman with dark black hair that tumbled to her shoulders, her nation patch indicating she was from India. When she spoke, her voice wavered slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she began, her face pale and nearly grey-toned beneath her usual caramel complexion.
“What’s wrong, Farida?” Carson asked gently, standing slowly as she made her way into what little room was left in the small office.
“I - I know who poisoned Dr. McKay,” she whispered.
***
Dr. Emily Reynolds looked small and defeated as she was led through the Gate room to the designated spot and beamed aboard the Deadalus.
Watching her depart, still pale from his ordeal and moving rather stiffly, McKay stood on the overlooking balcony, Sheppard by his side as the guards resumed their posts, their task complete.
“Hard to believe all that was over wanting to get some field time,” McKay sighed, brushing his hands and making a throwing away gesture. “Oh, well. When can we get back on schedule?” he demanded, turning back to Sheppard as though watching his would-be murderer being taken away for a court hearing was nothing unusual.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Sheppard demanded, eyeing his friend as though he were crazy. “That woman poisons you and you’re just - just going to forget about it and move on?”
“You obviously are new to academia,” McKay snorted. “Trust me, I’m far more concerned with how she got to Atlantis when she obviously wasn’t smart enough to realize that Tetrahydrozoline does a lot of things, but causing diarrhea isn’t one of them. I mean, honestly, I’m not surprised she was a waitress, but I would have thought that someone who claims to have her IQ would have figured the truth out before now.”
Sheppard shook his head, uncertain how to respond.
“At least you didn’t sleep with her. Then I would have had absolutely no respect for you,” McKay added, making his way past the stunned Colonel to the lift. “Are you coming?”
For a long moment, Sheppard stood there, uncertainty writ clear on his face, before he seemed to make a decision and nodded, once. He waited only until the doors to the lift had closed before he slammed his hand against he sensor plate and the light dimmed.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he said softly, moving so close to McKay that his breath puffed warm against the other man’s cheek.
“Which part?” McKay asked, seemingly unbothered by his friend’s closeness. In fact, he shifted a bit, so that their lips were only a few inches apart, his eyes riveted to the Colonel’s.
“Any of it,” Sheppard murmured, and kissed him.
The lift was out of service for a very, very long time.