“Hey, McKay. Got a minute?”
Rodney looked up absently to find Sheppard standing in the doorway to his office. Blinking stupidly, he nodded. “Sure, Major. What can I do for you?” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Rodney wondered at his easy acquiescence, since he was rather busy and didn’t normally appreciate being interrupted.
Flashing a grin, Sheppard stepped inside and the door closed apparently of its own volition, though more likely the major had thought it closed. When he got to the desk, Sheppard randomly picked up a doodad and muttered, “Huh. Cool, I can hear music in my head.” Shaking his head, he put it down and reached out for something else – a small green thing about the size of his fist – seemingly unable to help himself, but Rodney grabbed his wrist to stop him.
“I’d rather you wait until I’ve done some more research on these items, Major. You can play lightswitch later. Now, what was it you wanted?” Rodney prodded, only remembering to let go of the man’s wrist when John cocked an eyebrow.
“Right. I want you to join my team.”
“You… what?” Rodney frowned in confusion. “What team?”
Rolling his eyes, John huffed. “My gate team? I want you on it.”
“But… why?” For the life of him, Rodney couldn’t fathom why the major would ask him of all people. Sure, he was the smartest person here, but he wasn’t unaware of his limitations. Gate teams had to deal with unknown and often dangerous situations. They had to be fit, which Rodney most certainly wasn’t, and they had to deal with people, which Rodney definitely wasn’t the best person for. In his entire career at the SGC, he had never been in the field, and he had liked it that way. Hell, up until stepping through the gate to come to Atlantis, he had never even been through a gate at all! Labs were safe, and tech he – mostly – knew how to deal with. Even if it was alien.
Sheppard gave him a level look, then held up his hand and began counting off his reasons. “One, you’re the smartest person I know. Two, you are the foremost expert on Ancient technology. Three, because of your previous positions within the SGC and Area-51, you’ve had the most exposure to alien tech of anyone on this mission. And last, but not least, because I feel you would be a good asset to the team.”
With each example, Rodney’s heart thumped a little faster. He certainly knew all those things about himself. Well, the first three at any rate. But to hear the major tell him so… it meant something to Rodney. It actually meant a whole hell of a lot, if he were completely honest with himself. No one ever really gave him that kind of credit except himself. Oh, sure, people knew his credentials and made use of them, but to hold it up to him like this? Never mind being asked to do something as important as joining a gate team?
He felt his cheeks heat a little with elation at the prospect of being on Sheppard’s team. He couldn’t stop the goofy grin, nor unfortunately the somewhat excited if insecure, “Really?”
The fond look Sheppard gave him did funny things to Rodney’s stomach. Then again, he had skipped lunch today, so maybe he was just experiencing hunger pangs. “Yes, McKay,” John said gently. “Really. What do you say?”
Casting his eyes around his office for inspiration – or an excuse, he wasn’t entirely sure which because as thrilled as he was at being asked, he was also a bit frightened – he mumbled, “Well, like you said, I’m the foremost expert on Ancient technology. It would be bad if I got hurt or killed, even. The city wouldn’t survive without me,” he blustered. An obvious exaggeration, but all in all not too big of a one in his opinion.
“Do you really think I’d let that happen?” Sheppard looked at him skeptically, and for some reason that same feeling Rodney had had that first day in Pegasus resurfaced. No, the major wouldn’t really let anything happen to him, but accidents did happen after all. It wouldn’t do to forget that, Rodney figured.
Checking his hip against Rodney’s desk, Sheppard crossed his arms and grinned. “C’mon, McKay. Would you really let someone else have the glory of finding us a ZPM?”
And that was just unacceptable to Rodney and from the look on the major’s face, he knew he had hit his mark. “Alright, fine,” Rodney blustered. “Just so you know, I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”
Sheppard’s grin widened and his eyes seemed to light up. “Don’t you worry about that, McKay. We’re going to be spending some time on the shooting range to get you qualified. You’ll need to at least be able to defend yourself.”
Rodney gaped at the man, unsure of his feelings. In part he was horrified at the idea of having to shoot anyone, but a tiny voice in the back of his head was pointing out that spending time alone with Sheppard would not be a bad thing at all. To Rodney, the man was like an intricate puzzle that just eluded his abilities to solve and if there was one thing he could not stand, it was not knowing something when it was important. Though why it was important, Rodney had no idea.
“Right. Okay,” he stammered, gesturing to the chaos that was his desk. “In that case, I’d better get back to work, then.”
Clapping Rodney’s shoulder, Sheppard said jovially, “Attaboy, McKay. We’ll start tomorrow at oh-eight hundred.”
“That early?” Rodney squawked, eyes wide in shock.
“That late, you mean?” Sheppard teased with a wink. “Better get your beauty sleep, McKay. Don’t be late.”
It took Rodney a minute to realize that Sheppard had actually left. Shaking off the stupor he found himself in, he returned to work, only to be interrupted hours later by Carson radioing him. “Rodney, if you still want to be the first to receive the gene therapy, you’ll need to stop by my office first thing.”
Straightening so fast he cricked his back, Rodney spluttered, “It’s ready? You sure?”
“Aye, Rodney. Now, did you want to be the first or should I go looking-?”
“Of course I’ll go first,” Rodney snapped.
“First thing in the morning, then,” Carson piped through his ear, sounding far too amused to Rodney’s liking.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“It should be illegal to be up this early,” Rodney groused upon entering the infirmary at half past seven the following morning. “I haven’t even had-,” he paused, eyes widening at the mug Carson was holding out for him. “Oh! Coffee! Gimme!” Rodney said, making grabby hands.
Shaking his head, Carson rolled his eyes at his friend. “I know better than to ask you to function before you’ve had your first cup of coffee, Rodney. Now here, sit,” he said, patting the bed.
Draining the mug, Rodney placed it on the table before hopping up on the bed. Carson cocked an eyebrow and suppressed a grin. “I’m surprised you’re so eager to volunteer for this, Rodney,” he said while preparing the syringe.
“Oh, you know me, always eager to help.” Was Carson kidding? Like he would be able to resist the chance to be able to work the Ancient tech himself?
Giving him a skeptical look, Carson tied the tourniquet above Rodney’s elbow. “So, did you have any questions about the process? I mean you are a scientist.”
Rodney scoffed. “Er, yeah. I’m sorry, but er, medicine is about as much of a science as, oh, I don’t know, voodoo?”
Slapping Rodney’s elbow a little harder than Rodney felt completely necessary, Carson said tersely, “Right.”
“All I need to know is that it will enable to me to use Ancient technology like Major Sheppard… or yourself,” Rodney added almost as an afterthought.
“Yes,” Carson agreed amicably. “Hopefully. You are the first human trial.”
That gave Rodney pause. Of course he knew he was the first to be given the therapy, but he hadn’t really considered that that meant it hadn’t be tried on humans before. “W-why now?” he asked, suddenly feeling uncertain. “I mean, if this is possible, we need as many people with the gene as we can get.”
“Well, actually, without FDA approval it’s virtually impossible to-,” Carson trailed off when he noticed the look of discomfort on Rodney’s face.
Suddenly, Rodney wasn’t at all sure this was such a good idea anymore. Every B-movie he’d ever seen that involved gene manipulation began to play itself out in his head. And when Carson mentioned using a mouse retrovirus to introduce the therapy, Rodney started to feel a little ill. Before he could protest, though, Carson pierced the skin of his elbow and injected the serum into his system.
Wincing, Rodney clenched his fist, surprised to find something in it. He hadn’t even realized he had taken it out of his pocket during Carson’s little speech.
Carson glanced at what he was holding as he finished up with Rodney. “What’s that?”
Tossing the device in his hand, Rodney grinned. It was the same one Sheppard had tried to pick up the day before. After the major had left his office, Rodney had done a little digging and found an entry on the thing in one of the logs from one of the myriad Ancient scientists. As far as he could tell it was sort of like a personal shield, and now that he was going to be part of a gate team, that didn’t seem like such a bad thing to have.
“This? Oh, nothing. Just something I found in one of the research labs. Something the Ancients were experimenting with,” Rodney hedged.
Raising his eyebrows, Carson sounded worried when he asked, “Do you know what it is?”
Gazing at the device, Rodney gently stroked its edge with his thumb. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” At least, he hoped he was. He really hoped he was. Clearing his throat, he sat up a little straighter. “So, how long before we know this worked?”
Carson shrugged as he tidied up. “Eh, it could take some time. Just go about your day and let me know if you notice any changes.”
Pocketing the device, Rodney hopped to his feet. “Will do. Er… I should be safe to go to target practice, right?”
Looking over his shoulder in surprise, Carson gaped. “Target practice? What do you need target practice for, Rodney?”
Beaming with pride, Rodney bounced on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. “Major Sheppard asked me to be a part of his team.”
“You don’t say?” Carson replied, seeming pleased. “Aye, Rodney, you should be fine. Just go about your business as usual.” After a pause, he added mischievously, “Remember, Rodney, the barrel of the gun is supposed to point away from you.”
“Oh, ha ha,” Rodney scoffed. “Very funny.”
As Rodney headed out the infirmary, Carson called after him. “Be careful, Rodney, and good luck.”
When Rodney arrived at the shooting range, Sheppard was already there. Without taking his attention from checking the guns laid out before him, he muttered, “You’re late.”
“Oh, am I? Sorry, I had to stop by Carson’s first thing.” Rodney actually blushed, a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of having disappointed the major before they had even begun. What if he changed his mind about letting Rodney on the team?
Sheppard abruptly looked up, concern on his face as he inspected Rodney carefully. “Everything alright?”
Grinning, Rodney rocked back and forth. “Oh yes, everything’s fine. Well, maybe. Hopefully,” he added when he saw the man’s eyebrows try to climb up to his hair. Waving the major’s concerns aside, he said with more confidence than he really felt, “The ATA therapy was finally ready, so if you’re ignoring the fact that my DNA is being rewritten quite literally as we speak, then yes, I’m perfectly okay.”
Flashing a grin, Sheppard nodded. “Good. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Rodney said, gulping as he wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants.
First, the major walked him through the various guns they would be using on a mission. He showed Rodney how to safely operate each one before he allowed Rodney to take his first shot. They were focusing on handguns for now, leaving the P90 for when he had more experience.
The theory behind everything came easily enough to Rodney. It was the actual holding the gun and having it recoil with every shot that threw him off. Every time he squeezed the trigger, Rodney wanted to shy away from it, which was absolutely the wrong thing to do. Sheppard remained patient throughout, calmly explaining the steps again.
When Rodney still had trouble not flinching with every shot, Sheppard tapped his shoulder and held out a different handgun. “Here. Use this instead.” A questioning look only made the major roll his eyes and point to the target. “Shoot.”
Shaking his head, Rodney sighed, took his stance, and fired – only to nearly drop the gun completely in shock. “What the hell, Sheppard?” Was he playing some kind of joke on him? If so, it was not funny! That time had been much worse than the others.
Raising his eyebrows in challenge, John merely pointed to the target again. “Keep firing. Trust me.”
Watching him closely for a while, Rodney weighed his options. He could throw in the towel and for certain lose any hope of actually going on away missions, despite the invitation. Or he could do as Sheppard said and trust that he knew what he was doing. Biting his lip, Rodney quickly ran several scenarios through his head, but all of them resulted in the same. He honestly had no idea why, but he did trust the man in front of him, and trust wasn’t something Rodney was known to give easily.
“Okay,” he finally said, gripping the gun and turning back to the target. He fired ten times, only hitting the board twice, and he just could not keep from flinching. Feeling utterly disappointed in himself, he gently put the gun down and scrubbed his face in annoyance. “I’m sorry,” he said when he finally looked Sheppard in the eye. “I’m just no good at this.”
Clasping Rodney’s shoulder, Sheppard gave him a reassuring smile. “Sure you are. Or at least, you will be.” Handing him the first gun again, he tilted his head toward the target. “Try again.”
Frowning, Rodney accepted the gun and after taking several deep breaths and casting a dubious look at his teacher, he tried again. And hit center mass of the target, the lesser recoil practically a relief. With a whoop, Rodney flailed his hands, still holding the gun, all but forgotten. “Oh my God! Did you see that? Did you see?!”
With quick, efficient movements, Sheppard grabbed the gun and removed it from Rodney’s hands with an admonishing look. “Yeah, McKay. I saw. Great shot.”
Blushing, Rodney started to babble, talking with his hands as much as his mouth like he always did when he got agitated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. But did you see? I hit it! Right in the chest, and I never thought I’d be able to and then you switched guns on me and the recoil got worse and I reallyreallyreally thought I was just going to screw up completely and then you’d never let me go on the team and-.”
“McKay!” Clamping a hand over Rodney’s mouth, Sheppard sighed. “Just be careful next time, okay? Guns aren’t toys. Now come on. Try again. You have to practice so you can get a perfect shot every time.”
Rodney nodded, wide-eyed. He was mortified that he’d first started waving the gun around and then basically word-vomited all over the major. Though now that he thought about it, the man didn’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, unless Rodney was very much mistaken, he thought he detected a hint of pride in his eyes as he watched Rodney.
Sheppard lifted his hand away slowly and flashed Rodney a grin. “Ready?”
Taking a deep breath, Rodney nodded again. They spent another half hour on the range before calling it quits. Rodney was fairly pleased with himself. He hadn’t managed another kill shot as the major called it, but he had hit the target more often than not in the end.
Sheppard smiled as he set about cleaning the guns before putting them away. “You did good, McKay. You keep it up, we’ll make a crack shot out of you yet.”
Rodney snorted. He doubted that very much, but he would be happy enough if he could hold his own in the field. He hated the idea of becoming a liability. That reminded him of something. He fished the device out of his pocket and held it in front of him as he thought ‘on’, just to see if the gene therapy had done anything yet. “Yes!” he cheered, loud enough to make the major jump.
“McKay?”
Grinning, Rodney felt as if he had just been given the best gift ever. He stuck the device to his chest where it remained, glowing faintly. “It worked,” he said triumphantly. “Carson’s voodoo actually worked!”
“That’s great, McKay.” Sheppard both looked and sounded genuinely pleased for Rodney. “Isn’t that that thing I was about to pick up yesterday?” Rodney nodded as John tried to touch it only to be met by a forcefield that caused the area the shimmer with green light. “Whoa… is that-?”
“A personal shield? Yes, yes it is,” Rodney gloated. “Go on. Try to hurt me.”
Frowning in disbelief, Sheppard shrugged, then kicked Rodney in the shin. Or, he tried to. “Ow!” Hopping on one foot, the man scowled at him briefly before the implications sunk in. Then his expression shifted to one of childlike delight as he pulled out his gun. He held it up, silently asking for permission which Rodney gave by virtue of waving him on. Sheppard hesitated a moment, apparently trying to judge where he would do least damage in case things went wrong, then fired at Rodney’s leg.
The bullet ricocheted off to the side, embedding itself in the partition. Eyes shining with glee, they grinned at each other and in unison declared, “This is so. Cool!”
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