![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kodiak-bear.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_flashficTitle: WARNING: this job may be is hazardous to your health.
Author: Kodiak bear
Cat: Gen/humor
Rating: T, for language
Spoilers: 3x03, 3x07; set before the events in 3x10 but after McKay and Mrs. Miller.
Warnings: Please check all maturity at the click. Crass humor, pop culture references, and disgusting situations.
Summary: A five things sickness fic; the four ways in which their missions make them sick, and one where it doesn’t.
Big thanks to my hard-working betas:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
with_apostrophe, blade_girl, friendshipper, ga_unicorn, wordwitch, sgatazmy and linzi5. You all brought many different things to the table, and while I looked seriously at the circular file at times, your encouragement and advice was invaluable.
I know, I'm squeaking in late and I'm still not happy with it, but well, here it is and hopefully it'll be good for a laugh or two and maybe more! The quote "Living Legends of Lantea is not mine, that came fromblade_girl's genius.
WARNING: this job may be is hazardous to your health.
By Kodiak bear
I. Rituals suck, and next time, we’re taking swamp world number 37.
The Doria people were a nice change from the typical spear-pointing welcome. Sheppard didn’t even mind having to sit through four speeches on the virtues of good friends and successful trading relationships. The long building with bench tables running in rows was full of smiling people in colorful tunics of cotton-like cloth. The pillows everyone used in place of chairs were soft. All things considered, there were worse ways to spend a lazy afternoon.
Like being chased at gunpoint, or waking up in a cell after being unexpectedly stunned. Recently, tranquilizer darts ranked number one on his list of “top ten least favorite ways of being knocked unconscious.” So, really, a dish of something that closely resembled mince meat pie, candlelight, and pretty people to stare at? Count him there! And too bad for Lorne for losing Rock, Paper, Scissors and getting stuck with swamp world number 36.
“Surprisingly, this is actually pleasant.” McKay drank deeply from his tall glass of pink liquid. “Why can’t we get this more often?”
“Because,” Ronon said.
“Because why?”
Ronon swept a distrustful glance around the room, even while speaker number five prepared his notes at the front of the room. “Because if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.”
“Got that saying on your world, too, huh?” Sheppard guessed.
Teyla twitched at Sheppard’s side. “I believe it is a universal truth, John. Appearances can often be deceiving. Still, I do not feel these people are hiding anything.” Her eyes narrowed at the heaping serving dishes staged in equal distances along the wooden slabs. “I sense nothing but good will.”
Sheppard shuddered. “Didn’t you say that about--?”
“The same Neanderthals that shot an arrow in my --”
“Yes, Rodney,” Teyla interrupted, “I remember.”
The loud, gruff clearing of a man’s throat staved off further memories of their recent close call. Ronon had stayed noticeably silent.
“Honored guests, esteemed people of Doria! As our time of celebration approaches its natural conclusion, let us prepare for the time of renewal!” The speaker, Sheppard recalled, was the Dorian leader, Magnus. A hulk of a man, bald, in his mid-thirties, and always smiling like he was granted the constant “in” on jokes no one else seemed to be getting. His clothes were bright pink, dyed probably from the same flowers that floated in bowls of water decorating the room.
Despite the innocuousness of his clothes and his congenial looks, Sheppard recognized the bearing of a trained fighter. Magnus carried himself like Ronon, and Sheppard could think of a lot of people he’d rather go up against than this guy. People that wouldn’t break his bones with one absent-minded swipe of an arm. Fortunately, Magnus didn’t seem to be near as hot-headed as Sheppard’s Satedan teammate.
The mention of renewal seemed to be a cue and four young children around eight to ten years old began to walk in through two doors on either side of Magnus. They carried a heavy stack of bowls in their arms. Empty bowls.
“Tithing time?” Rodney screwed his eyes up. “What? Are we supposed to fill them with powerbars, bullets, Sheppard’s little black book?”
Sheppard shot Rodney a withering glare.
“I do not know,” Teyla said. She looked on uneasily as the children in their identical white robes continued to hand out the red-colored, medium-sized pottery containers. They were bulky, and each child could only carry five at a time. They left and returned repeatedly, bringing more, until everyone had a pot beside them, including Sheppard and his team.
“Well this is interesting. Free gift day?” Sheppard wished he believed it was something that simple.
Ronon stared at his pot like it was a rattle snake. “Sheppard, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Just because our luck is often poor, does not mean this is anything more than a token of goodwill.” Teyla tried to be the voice of reason, and it might have worked, if she hadn’t scooted away from her bowl as if it contained an invisible plague.
When the smell hit Sheppard’s nose, he realized he’d misjudged Teyla’s movements. “Christ,” he swore. “You okay?”
“I…I think maybe I should excuse myself --”
“You think? Jesus, Teyla, what died --”
Sheppard punched Rodney’s shoulder, hard.
Magnus raised his bowl and called, “Let us rid ourselves of all the sickness that lingers inside, so that we will dine again in good health!”
That was about the time when Sheppard’s stomach flipped painfully. He shared a flat, worried look with Rodney. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Ronon was already standing before Sheppard finished. “Poison?” he asked, looking at row after row of Dorians, who continued to smile warmly.
There was a loud, drawn out squeaking sound from across the table. A small, old woman grimaced and put a hand to her stomach. When she caught Sheppard staring, she said encouragingly, “It is soon past.”
“Oh, God,” moaned Rodney, clutching his gut. “They poisoned us!”
Enough was enough. Whatever was going on, Sheppard was pretty sure they’d stumbled into something that could be categorized as “bad”. He stood only to buckle at the waist when an angry cramp tore through his belly. “Ow, sonofa --” he swore.
“We’re doomed,” Rodney moaned.
Sheppard glared. “You’re always looking on the bright side of life, McKay.” Still, as the pain eased, he was more than a little worried that Rodney wasn’t far off this time.
“Colonel Sheppard, is something wrong?” Magnus asked, solicitously. He’d left the front and now stood anxiously near Sheppard’s team.
“Yes, something’s wrong,” Rodney snapped. “You poisoned us!”
“I do not understand. You do not do this on your world?”
Ronon got his hands around Teyla’s shoulders. The sound of a Dorian vomiting behind them drained the color from her normally healthy-looking skin. The smell quickly spread around them, dispersing in the air like someone had sprayed a can of concentrated stink.
“Do what?” Sheppard ground out. His stomach felt like a million tiny, pissed-off ants were crawling around, getting ready to launch an all-out assault on his throat.
“Cleanse the body,” Magnus clarified. His smile ratcheted into pure pleasure. “It is a holy act to rid yourself of the build-up of toxins. We normally perform the ritual once every six months, but in honor of your visit we thought it appropriate to make an exception.”
“I really wish you hadn’t.” Sheppard figured it was their luck that being honored included pain and a side-dish of humiliation.
“Are you complete idiots? Who would willingly make themselves sick?” Rodney’s face twisted. “We’ve got to go. Now. Get a sample,” he demanded. “I’ll meet you outside.” With saying that, he began to do a kind of bent-over shuffle towards the door at the opposite end of the room. Two explosive sounds followed him out. He only paused after the first one.
Sheppard took a second to close his eyes and count to a hundred, because ten had long ago quit hacking it, and twenty only touched the tip of his iceberg: the SS Bad Shit Happens to Me Way too Fucking Much.
“Magnus, it is not our way,” Teyla explained, shakily. “Our beliefs are not like yours.”
More vomiting sounds filled the room and Sheppard reluctantly opened his eyes. “We need a sample to take back for our doctors.” Another vicious cramp snaked through his gut. “Any idea how long this normally lasts?”
“Of course.” The smile slipped a notch. He waved at one of the children and whispered muffled instructions when the child came close. After he was finished, he turned back to Sheppard. “It is only a few hours of discomfort; for six months of purity, it is a price we willingly pay.”
Ronon suddenly jerked. A sickeningly strong odor drifted around them. When Sheppard stared at the runner, Ronon grinned. “Sorry,” he said.
“No you’re not.”
“Not really.”
“Ronon --” Teyla lurched forward, gasping. “Outside, please.”
Sheppard waved his hand at the door. “Go, I’ll be there in a minute.” He watched as the two joined Rodney outside. The smell in the room had grown to proportions no frat house could ever achieve. Not even on Friday night. Damn. The kid didn’t take long and soon Magnus handed Sheppard a small leather pouch.
“We mix it into the drink. I assure you, it is only a purgative. It is harmless. I hope this will not affect our negotiations?” Magnus’ grin was back to full-wattage.
“No, no, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Sheppard said through clenched teeth. A burning taste in his mouth heralded the ants’ strategic upward movements. He desperately needed Pepto Bismo or Mylanta, to counter their attack, but before he faced the short walk back to the Jumper, and the relief Carson could give him, Sheppard had to know, “Why aren’t you sick?” Looking around the room, he could see that a majority of the Dorians were now curled up around their pots, some actively filling theirs, while others were limp and waiting for the second bout to strike. But Magnus didn’t even look like he’d broken a sweat. Seeing how Sheppard was pretty sure his forehead resembled a perspiring glass of iced-tea on a hot summer day, he figured the head honcho, for all his talk of purity and cleansing, wasn’t willing to partake with the little people.
That’s why he was surprised when a very honest, disappointed look stole Magnus’ grin away. “It is my turn to serve as witness. I must abstain, but we share that burden equally among the council, with each taking a turn. And now,” he said, brightening, “because of this unscheduled cleansing, I will get my turn sooner. Your visit was most fortuitous.”
“Yeah,” Sheppard gasped. “Glad to be of service. We’ll be in touch.” Before he could embarrass himself further, he tucked the pouch into his vest pocket, and stumbled out of the room.
He found his team kneeling in the dirt by the side of the building. “Let’s go,” he choked. Then, he dropped, and lost about five pounds in the dirt next to Ronon. In the middle of heaving, Sheppard vowed that the next time Lorne challenged him to best three out of three, he was throwing the game and taking swamp world number 37.
Fucking ants.
II. Knock, Knock! Who’s there? Insanity. Insanity who? Insanity is coming for you!
When the sedative wore off, Sheppard woke to find himself in a bed. He’d spent the better part of two days arguing, threatening, and cajoling the leaders of MX8-344 to release McKay. He groaned and tried to remember what had happened. He’d been sitting at the table, explaining for the hundredth time that, yes, Rodney could be abrasive, but his lack of manners did not indicate a mental imbalance. Then something –
“Crap,” he groaned. He’d been slipped a mickey. A woman had asked if he wanted something to drink, and he’d been knee-deep in his arguments. He’d taken the cup and chugged the water without a second thought. All that talking had made him thirsty.
Sheppard remembered growing sleepy. The room had gotten hot, and he’d tried to stand, only to find his legs had turned to jelly at some point and were refusing to support his weight. The last thing he remembered was the court-appointed representative for McKay leaning over him and soothing, “It’s all right, Colonel. We had no idea the mental illness had infected you as well.”
“Nuh --” he’d tried to protest. Then everything had gone black.
A small groan escaped when he tried to sit up.
“Sheppard? What are you doing here?”
Through blurry vision, Sheppard could see a figure standing in his doorway. “M’Kay?”
The figure hurried in and stood over him. “You’re supposed to be rescuing me! How can you rescue me if you’re stuck in here?”
“I didn’t intend to get thrown in here.” God, his head was ringing like the Liberty Bell. With a lot of effort, Sheppard managed to sit. Okay, okay, so he needed a little help from Rodney. Point being, despite his aching head and queasy stomach, he was up. “They drugged me when I was trying to get you released.”
“You let them drug you?” Rodney demanded. “How could you let them drug you! This is…this is bad.”
Sheppard nodded and winced. “Trust me, it wasn’t part of my plan.” He realized they were really in trouble now. They’d thrown him in with McKay. As much as he appreciated being reunited with his missing teammate, this was bad. The institution was too well-guarded for a conventional rescue, unless they were willing to induce multiple civilian casualties. It was why Elizabeth had authorized negotiating only; no storming the castle. Ronon and Teyla were still out there, but Sheppard had a sinking suspicion they’d only wind up in here with him and McKay if they tried the same tactics Sheppard had.
He started to take in details. Rodney was wearing white scrubs and blue slippers. Sheppard had on the same clothes as Rodney, sans the slippers, and seeing how he had been wearing his uniform, that meant someone had stripped him and dressed him in the new outfit. He hated that. Half the damn galaxy had seen him naked by now. The room had one metal-frame bed, a small nightstand and that was it. Spartan.
“So,” he asked Rodney, “any chess boards?”
OoO
Day one consisted of a staff member explaining to Sheppard that he’d been deemed “contaminated” by his friend’s illness. That his adamant statements that Rodney was sane, were, in themselves, proof of Sheppard’s insanity. When he tried to argue again that Rodney wasn’t insane, just rude, the nice staff lady with the sharp needle had explained that there was to be none of that. Deciding quietness was the better side of valor, Sheppard had meekly gone on the grand tour. He studied every single exit and judged the ones worthy of follow-up study.
Entry to the bathrooms and showers was granted upon request and were kept locked at all times. Simple tumbler lock. A good wire and he could get it open. Unfortunately, flushing themselves out the sewer wasn’t an option, so that was pointless. Then again, 24/7 access to toilets, yay me, Sheppard thought wryly. The staff room had a keypad with a code. Not so easy there. If Sheppard had to guess, he’d say an exit out of the building was via the staff room; the most traffic seemed to come and go through that door.
Windows were along the top of the ceiling, spilling sunlight down into the rooms, and high enough to be out of reach. Not even standing on a chair would get him near enough to try that route. Rodney pointed out that they could stack four chairs, but then Sheppard said, “And when one of us is through the window, who is going to hold the furniture tower in place for the next person?”
Food was delivered via an outside service three times a day. The large carts were wheeled in through the staff door, solidifying his suspicions on the location of the exit.
There wasn’t a chess board, but they had this thing with pebbles and holes, and it helped pass the time.
It was after Rodney had shown Sheppard his assigned room that the colonel’s suspicions about the small man hanging back in the shadows were confirmed. “Rodney, why is that guy following you?”
The man stood to the side of Rodney’s door while they lounged inside. “Oh, that’s my friend.” Rodney smiled happily. “Felix.”
“Felix?”
“Yeah.” Rodney looked at Sheppard in a come on, get it, I know you canway. But Sheppard didn’t get it. Rodney sighed and explained, “You know, the cat – Felix the cat. A cartoon. Jesus, were you that deprived as a child?”
Sheppard narrowed his eyes and stared at Felix suspiciously. “I was more the Scooby Doo kind of kid.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Why, don’t I look like the Scooby type?”
Rodney shook his head, acting as if they’d just discovered something incompatible in their relationship and said, “No, not really.”
“Hi…hi,” stuttered Felix.
“You talk,” gaped Rodney.
“You didn’t know he talked?”
“It’s the first time. He’s followed me around since I got here; I just assumed he was mute, or, you know, brain damaged.”
The small man waved childishly and said, “My name’s Felix. McKay said so.”
OoO
On day two, a doctor sat Sheppard down and explained that even though he’d been found insane, there was still hope. All he had to do was participate in therapy, show adequate progress, and maybe at the end of the year when his case went up for review, they’d deem him “suitably recovered”.
Rodney looked morose and said, “It’s two years before my case is reviewed.”
Felix grinned and said, “They tell me I’m a lifer.”
Sheppard wanted to tell the doctor that if he wasn’t insane before, he would be after a year of this.
He got Felix to get a couple of his friends and stage a stake-out on the staff room. The goal: get the key code. Rodney said, “Nice try. They change it daily.”
“Well, then, we’ll just have to move fast, won’t we.” Sheppard refused to be infected any further by Rodney. Insanity, pessimism, it’s all part of the psyche.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner were all variations of the same food item. In the morning it was served ground up, in porridge form. For lunch, it had the square shape of lunch meat and was shoved between two thick crackers. Dinner, it took on the persona of meat loaf. And all of the above tasted like saw dust. He’d have to be insane to eat that stuff.
Rodney bugged him to play the pebble-in-the-hole game. Felix gave them regular updates on the stake-out. In the end, the nurse with the pointy needle arrived, dragging Felix along, and told Sheppard if he incited any further “take-outs” that he’d be thrown into isolation.
Day three started promisingly. Felix and Rodney created a spy-scope out of paper rolls and a glass smuggled off the dinner tray the previous night. When the staff had demanded the missing cup be produced or the entire ward would be searched, Felix pulled another from under his bed. Sheppard had no idea where he’d gotten a second one, but it saved their asses.
They hovered in Sheppard’s doorway, and spied on the keypad, waiting. Two times a staff member keyed the code, but both times the angle of their bodies blocked the view. The third time, a large body blocked Sheppard’s view, and the very big guy pulled the homemade monocular from Sheppard’s hand and said, “This is not looking good for your case review, John.”
Sheppard straightened with as much dignity as he could. “Only a nut wouldn’t try to escape this place. I told you; I’m not crazy, and neither is McKay.”
The burly man tsk’ed. “Inciting rebellion gets you 48 hours in isolation. You were warned.”
Sheppard tried to punch the guy, just for appearance’s sake, but his fist met a stomach as hard as steel and next thing he knew, Felix was leaning over him and waving, “Bye, bye.”
Days four and five sucked.
Day six he was granted a shower.
Day seven, guards showed up; Elizabeth followed behind.
“Your people have negotiated a deal,” Guard 1 said.
Elizabeth smiled tightly.
Rodney stared sadly at Felix. “Can we --” he started to ask Elizabeth.
“No,” Elizabeth replied curtly.
Sheppard grabbed his uniform from Guard 2.
By the time they were dressed and ready to leave, Felix was looking like some bully had stolen his candy. Guard 1 opened the door and Sheppard got a good look at the key code. Lowly guards sure could be stupid. For that matter, soldiers could be stupid, too, but Mrs. Sheppard didn’t raise no dummy. You wouldn’t catch Sheppard punching in a key code with an audience looking over his shoulder. This guy didn’t even try to hide it, his assumption being that it wouldn’t matter because they were getting out anyway.
Felix suddenly ran up and latched onto Rodney. “Bye, bye, McKay!”
Rodney looked again at Elizabeth, “Come on, he’s harmless.”
Guard 2 said, “Time to leave, before we withdraw our offer.”
Sheppard got the hug next. While Felix was holding him tight, Sheppard leaned in and whispered, “2-3-7-1, enter. Give ‘em hell, Felix.”
“Bye, bye, Sheppard,” Felix said, grinning happily.
The trip to the ‘gate was quiet. Rodney had tried to say something, but Elizabeth had shook her head and said severely, “Not now, Rodney.”
Ronon and Teyla were waiting anxiously by the DHD; okay, Teyla was the only one that looked anxious. Carson was there, along with Lorne. Instead of a, “Good to see you, Colonel, Rodney! Are you okay?” they got Ronon pulling his super blaster on them, and Teyla aiming her P90 at their chests.
“What’s going on, buddy?” Sheppard asked Ronon.
“Are you nuts?” Rodney stepped forward to push Teyla’s gun to the side, but she tightened her hold and did something funky with her eyes, opening them wide and sort of jerking her head to the side.
Between clenched teeth she said, “Dr. McKay, you must not resist. We are to escort you back, where you will be placed in one of our rehabilitation centers.”
“What? We don’t have --”
Sheppard and Rodney got it at the same time. Definitely being observed. Play along. That kind of thing. They backed away and acted suitably cowed. Carson came near and pulled zip tie restraints from his vest. “Hands, Colonel,” he instructed curtly, avoiding eye contact.
“Is this really necessary?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. She looked pretty pissed.
Sheppard held his hands out and had to fight back the urge to punch someone. It had been a long week. Next, Rodney was restrained, and only then did Ronon lower his weapon and Teyla dialed Atlantis, shielding the DHD with her body to hide the coordinates.
They were led through like prisoners going to the gallows. As soon as the ‘gate snapped shut behind them, Sheppard turned to the nearest body, Teyla, and said, “Get these things off me.”
Teyla pulled her knife free and moved to cut them, but Elizabeth touched her hand, staying her from doing so. “No.” She turned to face Sheppard and Rodney. “Escort these gentlemen to my office, please.”
Teyla sheathed her knife and shot a questioning look at Elizabeth before accepting what was there and nodding. She turned back to Sheppard and said, “I’m sorry, Colonel.” She took his arm while Ronon took Rodney’s.
Sheppard yanked his arm free, seething. “I know the way.” What was going on? Had someone drugged his people? He glanced first to Lorne, who quickly found a Marine to go order around. Carson ducked through the side exit. Sheppard looked over at Rodney and got a mirror image of his own irritation.
Rodney leaned toward him and hissed, “What’s going on? They’re acting mind-cleansed or something.”
“Mind-cleansed?” Sheppard hissed back. “What the hell’s that?”
“It’s this thing, from a TV show. Oh, come on, you had to have watched Farscape.”
“Scooby Doo, remember?”
“God, you are such a TV philistine. Your Catwoman knowledge sucks, you don’t know Felix the cat --” At Sheppard’s dark look, he sighed, “Fine, okay, so these people are on a spaceship, and then there’s these other people, they’re the bad guys. They suck the good guys’ eyeballs out, inject some kind of drug that makes them all weird and controlled, and --”
“Ruh-roh Raggy,” Sheppard supplied, sotto-voice.
“Exactly,” Rodney agreed.
Teyla guided Sheppard into a chair in front of Elizabeth’s desk and Ronon shoved Rodney into the other. They then leaned watchfully against the wall, looking anything but mind-cleansed, as far as Sheppard could figure. “They don’t look like someone’s controlling them.”
Rodney studied them before shrugging. “Yes, well, you never can tell what’s motivating them.”
Elizabeth came in a few moments later, shutting the door behind her. She strode to her desk and Sheppard recognized the false calm before the storm. He started to open his mouth when she shook her head. “No, John. I don’t want you to talk. Either of you.” She stared pointedly at Rodney. “Just listen.” She opened her desk drawer and pulled two slips of paper free, sliding them until there was one in front of Sheppard and one in front of Rodney.
“Before you are the legal forms committing you to receive care for your mental illnesses. Rodney, this fiasco started with you. Your continued rudeness with the liaison you were assigned to work with on MX8-344 was the basis for the actions that followed. Your behavior was seen as mentally unstable, and on their world anyone even remotely suspected as being mentally ill is thrown in an institution. Do you have any idea what it took to get them to release you both?”
Sheppard realized that was a rhetorical question.
Too bad Rodney didn’t.
“Elizabeth, it’s completely ludicrous! You can’t honestly think this is my fault --”
Her lips thinned. “Did you, or did you not, call their scientist an ‘imbecile born with impotent brain cells’?”
Rodney shifted in his chair, his zip-tied hands resting in his lap. “I might have,” he finally admitted. “Still, since when is being a jerk proof of mental illness?”
“Since the moment you stepped foot on MX8-344,” she replied icily. “And it wasn’t just one insult, Rodney. It was several to more than one of their scientists! It’s no wonder they thought you were insane.”
Sheppard nodded. “Sometimes you do act a little nuts, McKay.”
Elizabeth turned her attention on him. “And you! Just when I was making progress in getting both of you released, you go and rope all the other crazy people into some hair-brained escape plan that didn’t have a hope in hell of working, making you look all the more guilty! I was this close,” she made a small pinch with her fingers, “and then suddenly they withdrew their offer, saying you were possibly sicker than they’d initially believed!”
Sheppard considered his options. Rodney looked at Sheppard. They looked at Elizabeth and said, in stereo, “It’s not our fault.”
She assessed them with a scary look that made Sheppard fear for her sanity, before she scooped the papers up and shoved them in her desk. “For the record,” she said, sitting down, “I had to agree that you were both mentally ill. I had to agree to get you help, and I had to furnish proof of that agreement. As far as those papers are concerned, you are both supposed to arrive in Carson’s care at 0900 this morning, and to remain there for a period of time undetermined. Until you have been suitably rehabilitated.” She fixed a steely glare at both of them, but Sheppard kind of thought most of it was aimed at Rodney. “Am I understood?”
Rodney looked confused. “Um, go to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200?”
“Rodney --”
“Okay, okay.” He sighed. “Fine, no insulting people outside of the expedition.” She stared over her nose at him. “That’s as much as I’m willing to promise,” he added.
“John?” she asked.
“I didn’t do anything!” Sheppard protested.
Rodney nudged him with an elbow and reminded him, “The escape attempt.”
“That doesn’t count. I didn’t insult anyone.”
Elizabeth looked disappointed. “It’s your job, John, to control the members of your team. See that in the future, you do so.”
Sheppard eyed her, disgruntled. He had seven days of stubble, he was hungry, and he’d kill for a hot shower. “Great.” Sheppard looked sideways at Rodney. “Next time you insult anyone off-world, I’m sending you through the ‘gate without an IDC.”
“Stop being facetious,” lectured Elizabeth.
Exasperated, Sheppard raised his bound hands and gestured at McKay. “It’s Rodney! Nothing’s going to make him shut up.”
Ronon chuckled, but quickly sobered when Teyla and Elizabeth focused their ire on him.
With a nod to Teyla, they were finally cut free of the plastic cuffs. Sheppard rubbed his hands and considered making a run for it. Then again, Rodney would probably never forgive him if Sheppard left him behind to face the rest of Elizabeth’s anger alone.
She kept staring at them, as if debating whether to keep chewing them out, or to dismiss them. Finally, she waved tiredly at the door. “Just go. Try to remember that, in the future, I’m not always going to be capable of securing your release. These people were well-protected, John. You know that. The Daedalus isn’t scheduled to return until next month and short of a surgical strike against their people, incurring casualties on both sides, we wouldn’t have been able to free you. Rodney, you have to do better than try.”
They stood. Sheppard hitched his pants and tried to think of something reassuring to say. Rodney grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door, muttering, “Don’t bother. I think it’s that time of the month.”
Sheppard snorted. “No kidding. And they say we’re nuts…”
Part Two
Author: Kodiak bear
Cat: Gen/humor
Rating: T, for language
Spoilers: 3x03, 3x07; set before the events in 3x10 but after McKay and Mrs. Miller.
Warnings: Please check all maturity at the click. Crass humor, pop culture references, and disgusting situations.
Summary: A five things sickness fic; the four ways in which their missions make them sick, and one where it doesn’t.
Big thanks to my hard-working betas:
with_apostrophe, blade_girl, friendshipper, ga_unicorn, wordwitch, sgatazmy and linzi5. You all brought many different things to the table, and while I looked seriously at the circular file at times, your encouragement and advice was invaluable. I know, I'm squeaking in late and I'm still not happy with it, but well, here it is and hopefully it'll be good for a laugh or two and maybe more! The quote "Living Legends of Lantea is not mine, that came from
blade_girl's genius. By Kodiak bear
I. Rituals suck, and next time, we’re taking swamp world number 37.
The Doria people were a nice change from the typical spear-pointing welcome. Sheppard didn’t even mind having to sit through four speeches on the virtues of good friends and successful trading relationships. The long building with bench tables running in rows was full of smiling people in colorful tunics of cotton-like cloth. The pillows everyone used in place of chairs were soft. All things considered, there were worse ways to spend a lazy afternoon.
Like being chased at gunpoint, or waking up in a cell after being unexpectedly stunned. Recently, tranquilizer darts ranked number one on his list of “top ten least favorite ways of being knocked unconscious.” So, really, a dish of something that closely resembled mince meat pie, candlelight, and pretty people to stare at? Count him there! And too bad for Lorne for losing Rock, Paper, Scissors and getting stuck with swamp world number 36.
“Surprisingly, this is actually pleasant.” McKay drank deeply from his tall glass of pink liquid. “Why can’t we get this more often?”
“Because,” Ronon said.
“Because why?”
Ronon swept a distrustful glance around the room, even while speaker number five prepared his notes at the front of the room. “Because if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.”
“Got that saying on your world, too, huh?” Sheppard guessed.
Teyla twitched at Sheppard’s side. “I believe it is a universal truth, John. Appearances can often be deceiving. Still, I do not feel these people are hiding anything.” Her eyes narrowed at the heaping serving dishes staged in equal distances along the wooden slabs. “I sense nothing but good will.”
Sheppard shuddered. “Didn’t you say that about--?”
“The same Neanderthals that shot an arrow in my --”
“Yes, Rodney,” Teyla interrupted, “I remember.”
The loud, gruff clearing of a man’s throat staved off further memories of their recent close call. Ronon had stayed noticeably silent.
“Honored guests, esteemed people of Doria! As our time of celebration approaches its natural conclusion, let us prepare for the time of renewal!” The speaker, Sheppard recalled, was the Dorian leader, Magnus. A hulk of a man, bald, in his mid-thirties, and always smiling like he was granted the constant “in” on jokes no one else seemed to be getting. His clothes were bright pink, dyed probably from the same flowers that floated in bowls of water decorating the room.
Despite the innocuousness of his clothes and his congenial looks, Sheppard recognized the bearing of a trained fighter. Magnus carried himself like Ronon, and Sheppard could think of a lot of people he’d rather go up against than this guy. People that wouldn’t break his bones with one absent-minded swipe of an arm. Fortunately, Magnus didn’t seem to be near as hot-headed as Sheppard’s Satedan teammate.
The mention of renewal seemed to be a cue and four young children around eight to ten years old began to walk in through two doors on either side of Magnus. They carried a heavy stack of bowls in their arms. Empty bowls.
“Tithing time?” Rodney screwed his eyes up. “What? Are we supposed to fill them with powerbars, bullets, Sheppard’s little black book?”
Sheppard shot Rodney a withering glare.
“I do not know,” Teyla said. She looked on uneasily as the children in their identical white robes continued to hand out the red-colored, medium-sized pottery containers. They were bulky, and each child could only carry five at a time. They left and returned repeatedly, bringing more, until everyone had a pot beside them, including Sheppard and his team.
“Well this is interesting. Free gift day?” Sheppard wished he believed it was something that simple.
Ronon stared at his pot like it was a rattle snake. “Sheppard, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Just because our luck is often poor, does not mean this is anything more than a token of goodwill.” Teyla tried to be the voice of reason, and it might have worked, if she hadn’t scooted away from her bowl as if it contained an invisible plague.
When the smell hit Sheppard’s nose, he realized he’d misjudged Teyla’s movements. “Christ,” he swore. “You okay?”
“I…I think maybe I should excuse myself --”
“You think? Jesus, Teyla, what died --”
Sheppard punched Rodney’s shoulder, hard.
Magnus raised his bowl and called, “Let us rid ourselves of all the sickness that lingers inside, so that we will dine again in good health!”
That was about the time when Sheppard’s stomach flipped painfully. He shared a flat, worried look with Rodney. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Ronon was already standing before Sheppard finished. “Poison?” he asked, looking at row after row of Dorians, who continued to smile warmly.
There was a loud, drawn out squeaking sound from across the table. A small, old woman grimaced and put a hand to her stomach. When she caught Sheppard staring, she said encouragingly, “It is soon past.”
“Oh, God,” moaned Rodney, clutching his gut. “They poisoned us!”
Enough was enough. Whatever was going on, Sheppard was pretty sure they’d stumbled into something that could be categorized as “bad”. He stood only to buckle at the waist when an angry cramp tore through his belly. “Ow, sonofa --” he swore.
“We’re doomed,” Rodney moaned.
Sheppard glared. “You’re always looking on the bright side of life, McKay.” Still, as the pain eased, he was more than a little worried that Rodney wasn’t far off this time.
“Colonel Sheppard, is something wrong?” Magnus asked, solicitously. He’d left the front and now stood anxiously near Sheppard’s team.
“Yes, something’s wrong,” Rodney snapped. “You poisoned us!”
“I do not understand. You do not do this on your world?”
Ronon got his hands around Teyla’s shoulders. The sound of a Dorian vomiting behind them drained the color from her normally healthy-looking skin. The smell quickly spread around them, dispersing in the air like someone had sprayed a can of concentrated stink.
“Do what?” Sheppard ground out. His stomach felt like a million tiny, pissed-off ants were crawling around, getting ready to launch an all-out assault on his throat.
“Cleanse the body,” Magnus clarified. His smile ratcheted into pure pleasure. “It is a holy act to rid yourself of the build-up of toxins. We normally perform the ritual once every six months, but in honor of your visit we thought it appropriate to make an exception.”
“I really wish you hadn’t.” Sheppard figured it was their luck that being honored included pain and a side-dish of humiliation.
“Are you complete idiots? Who would willingly make themselves sick?” Rodney’s face twisted. “We’ve got to go. Now. Get a sample,” he demanded. “I’ll meet you outside.” With saying that, he began to do a kind of bent-over shuffle towards the door at the opposite end of the room. Two explosive sounds followed him out. He only paused after the first one.
Sheppard took a second to close his eyes and count to a hundred, because ten had long ago quit hacking it, and twenty only touched the tip of his iceberg: the SS Bad Shit Happens to Me Way too Fucking Much.
“Magnus, it is not our way,” Teyla explained, shakily. “Our beliefs are not like yours.”
More vomiting sounds filled the room and Sheppard reluctantly opened his eyes. “We need a sample to take back for our doctors.” Another vicious cramp snaked through his gut. “Any idea how long this normally lasts?”
“Of course.” The smile slipped a notch. He waved at one of the children and whispered muffled instructions when the child came close. After he was finished, he turned back to Sheppard. “It is only a few hours of discomfort; for six months of purity, it is a price we willingly pay.”
Ronon suddenly jerked. A sickeningly strong odor drifted around them. When Sheppard stared at the runner, Ronon grinned. “Sorry,” he said.
“No you’re not.”
“Not really.”
“Ronon --” Teyla lurched forward, gasping. “Outside, please.”
Sheppard waved his hand at the door. “Go, I’ll be there in a minute.” He watched as the two joined Rodney outside. The smell in the room had grown to proportions no frat house could ever achieve. Not even on Friday night. Damn. The kid didn’t take long and soon Magnus handed Sheppard a small leather pouch.
“We mix it into the drink. I assure you, it is only a purgative. It is harmless. I hope this will not affect our negotiations?” Magnus’ grin was back to full-wattage.
“No, no, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Sheppard said through clenched teeth. A burning taste in his mouth heralded the ants’ strategic upward movements. He desperately needed Pepto Bismo or Mylanta, to counter their attack, but before he faced the short walk back to the Jumper, and the relief Carson could give him, Sheppard had to know, “Why aren’t you sick?” Looking around the room, he could see that a majority of the Dorians were now curled up around their pots, some actively filling theirs, while others were limp and waiting for the second bout to strike. But Magnus didn’t even look like he’d broken a sweat. Seeing how Sheppard was pretty sure his forehead resembled a perspiring glass of iced-tea on a hot summer day, he figured the head honcho, for all his talk of purity and cleansing, wasn’t willing to partake with the little people.
That’s why he was surprised when a very honest, disappointed look stole Magnus’ grin away. “It is my turn to serve as witness. I must abstain, but we share that burden equally among the council, with each taking a turn. And now,” he said, brightening, “because of this unscheduled cleansing, I will get my turn sooner. Your visit was most fortuitous.”
“Yeah,” Sheppard gasped. “Glad to be of service. We’ll be in touch.” Before he could embarrass himself further, he tucked the pouch into his vest pocket, and stumbled out of the room.
He found his team kneeling in the dirt by the side of the building. “Let’s go,” he choked. Then, he dropped, and lost about five pounds in the dirt next to Ronon. In the middle of heaving, Sheppard vowed that the next time Lorne challenged him to best three out of three, he was throwing the game and taking swamp world number 37.
Fucking ants.
II. Knock, Knock! Who’s there? Insanity. Insanity who? Insanity is coming for you!
When the sedative wore off, Sheppard woke to find himself in a bed. He’d spent the better part of two days arguing, threatening, and cajoling the leaders of MX8-344 to release McKay. He groaned and tried to remember what had happened. He’d been sitting at the table, explaining for the hundredth time that, yes, Rodney could be abrasive, but his lack of manners did not indicate a mental imbalance. Then something –
“Crap,” he groaned. He’d been slipped a mickey. A woman had asked if he wanted something to drink, and he’d been knee-deep in his arguments. He’d taken the cup and chugged the water without a second thought. All that talking had made him thirsty.
Sheppard remembered growing sleepy. The room had gotten hot, and he’d tried to stand, only to find his legs had turned to jelly at some point and were refusing to support his weight. The last thing he remembered was the court-appointed representative for McKay leaning over him and soothing, “It’s all right, Colonel. We had no idea the mental illness had infected you as well.”
“Nuh --” he’d tried to protest. Then everything had gone black.
A small groan escaped when he tried to sit up.
“Sheppard? What are you doing here?”
Through blurry vision, Sheppard could see a figure standing in his doorway. “M’Kay?”
The figure hurried in and stood over him. “You’re supposed to be rescuing me! How can you rescue me if you’re stuck in here?”
“I didn’t intend to get thrown in here.” God, his head was ringing like the Liberty Bell. With a lot of effort, Sheppard managed to sit. Okay, okay, so he needed a little help from Rodney. Point being, despite his aching head and queasy stomach, he was up. “They drugged me when I was trying to get you released.”
“You let them drug you?” Rodney demanded. “How could you let them drug you! This is…this is bad.”
Sheppard nodded and winced. “Trust me, it wasn’t part of my plan.” He realized they were really in trouble now. They’d thrown him in with McKay. As much as he appreciated being reunited with his missing teammate, this was bad. The institution was too well-guarded for a conventional rescue, unless they were willing to induce multiple civilian casualties. It was why Elizabeth had authorized negotiating only; no storming the castle. Ronon and Teyla were still out there, but Sheppard had a sinking suspicion they’d only wind up in here with him and McKay if they tried the same tactics Sheppard had.
He started to take in details. Rodney was wearing white scrubs and blue slippers. Sheppard had on the same clothes as Rodney, sans the slippers, and seeing how he had been wearing his uniform, that meant someone had stripped him and dressed him in the new outfit. He hated that. Half the damn galaxy had seen him naked by now. The room had one metal-frame bed, a small nightstand and that was it. Spartan.
“So,” he asked Rodney, “any chess boards?”
Day one consisted of a staff member explaining to Sheppard that he’d been deemed “contaminated” by his friend’s illness. That his adamant statements that Rodney was sane, were, in themselves, proof of Sheppard’s insanity. When he tried to argue again that Rodney wasn’t insane, just rude, the nice staff lady with the sharp needle had explained that there was to be none of that. Deciding quietness was the better side of valor, Sheppard had meekly gone on the grand tour. He studied every single exit and judged the ones worthy of follow-up study.
Entry to the bathrooms and showers was granted upon request and were kept locked at all times. Simple tumbler lock. A good wire and he could get it open. Unfortunately, flushing themselves out the sewer wasn’t an option, so that was pointless. Then again, 24/7 access to toilets, yay me, Sheppard thought wryly. The staff room had a keypad with a code. Not so easy there. If Sheppard had to guess, he’d say an exit out of the building was via the staff room; the most traffic seemed to come and go through that door.
Windows were along the top of the ceiling, spilling sunlight down into the rooms, and high enough to be out of reach. Not even standing on a chair would get him near enough to try that route. Rodney pointed out that they could stack four chairs, but then Sheppard said, “And when one of us is through the window, who is going to hold the furniture tower in place for the next person?”
Food was delivered via an outside service three times a day. The large carts were wheeled in through the staff door, solidifying his suspicions on the location of the exit.
There wasn’t a chess board, but they had this thing with pebbles and holes, and it helped pass the time.
It was after Rodney had shown Sheppard his assigned room that the colonel’s suspicions about the small man hanging back in the shadows were confirmed. “Rodney, why is that guy following you?”
The man stood to the side of Rodney’s door while they lounged inside. “Oh, that’s my friend.” Rodney smiled happily. “Felix.”
“Felix?”
“Yeah.” Rodney looked at Sheppard in a come on, get it, I know you canway. But Sheppard didn’t get it. Rodney sighed and explained, “You know, the cat – Felix the cat. A cartoon. Jesus, were you that deprived as a child?”
Sheppard narrowed his eyes and stared at Felix suspiciously. “I was more the Scooby Doo kind of kid.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Why, don’t I look like the Scooby type?”
Rodney shook his head, acting as if they’d just discovered something incompatible in their relationship and said, “No, not really.”
“Hi…hi,” stuttered Felix.
“You talk,” gaped Rodney.
“You didn’t know he talked?”
“It’s the first time. He’s followed me around since I got here; I just assumed he was mute, or, you know, brain damaged.”
The small man waved childishly and said, “My name’s Felix. McKay said so.”
On day two, a doctor sat Sheppard down and explained that even though he’d been found insane, there was still hope. All he had to do was participate in therapy, show adequate progress, and maybe at the end of the year when his case went up for review, they’d deem him “suitably recovered”.
Rodney looked morose and said, “It’s two years before my case is reviewed.”
Felix grinned and said, “They tell me I’m a lifer.”
Sheppard wanted to tell the doctor that if he wasn’t insane before, he would be after a year of this.
He got Felix to get a couple of his friends and stage a stake-out on the staff room. The goal: get the key code. Rodney said, “Nice try. They change it daily.”
“Well, then, we’ll just have to move fast, won’t we.” Sheppard refused to be infected any further by Rodney. Insanity, pessimism, it’s all part of the psyche.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner were all variations of the same food item. In the morning it was served ground up, in porridge form. For lunch, it had the square shape of lunch meat and was shoved between two thick crackers. Dinner, it took on the persona of meat loaf. And all of the above tasted like saw dust. He’d have to be insane to eat that stuff.
Rodney bugged him to play the pebble-in-the-hole game. Felix gave them regular updates on the stake-out. In the end, the nurse with the pointy needle arrived, dragging Felix along, and told Sheppard if he incited any further “take-outs” that he’d be thrown into isolation.
Day three started promisingly. Felix and Rodney created a spy-scope out of paper rolls and a glass smuggled off the dinner tray the previous night. When the staff had demanded the missing cup be produced or the entire ward would be searched, Felix pulled another from under his bed. Sheppard had no idea where he’d gotten a second one, but it saved their asses.
They hovered in Sheppard’s doorway, and spied on the keypad, waiting. Two times a staff member keyed the code, but both times the angle of their bodies blocked the view. The third time, a large body blocked Sheppard’s view, and the very big guy pulled the homemade monocular from Sheppard’s hand and said, “This is not looking good for your case review, John.”
Sheppard straightened with as much dignity as he could. “Only a nut wouldn’t try to escape this place. I told you; I’m not crazy, and neither is McKay.”
The burly man tsk’ed. “Inciting rebellion gets you 48 hours in isolation. You were warned.”
Sheppard tried to punch the guy, just for appearance’s sake, but his fist met a stomach as hard as steel and next thing he knew, Felix was leaning over him and waving, “Bye, bye.”
Days four and five sucked.
Day six he was granted a shower.
Day seven, guards showed up; Elizabeth followed behind.
“Your people have negotiated a deal,” Guard 1 said.
Elizabeth smiled tightly.
Rodney stared sadly at Felix. “Can we --” he started to ask Elizabeth.
“No,” Elizabeth replied curtly.
Sheppard grabbed his uniform from Guard 2.
By the time they were dressed and ready to leave, Felix was looking like some bully had stolen his candy. Guard 1 opened the door and Sheppard got a good look at the key code. Lowly guards sure could be stupid. For that matter, soldiers could be stupid, too, but Mrs. Sheppard didn’t raise no dummy. You wouldn’t catch Sheppard punching in a key code with an audience looking over his shoulder. This guy didn’t even try to hide it, his assumption being that it wouldn’t matter because they were getting out anyway.
Felix suddenly ran up and latched onto Rodney. “Bye, bye, McKay!”
Rodney looked again at Elizabeth, “Come on, he’s harmless.”
Guard 2 said, “Time to leave, before we withdraw our offer.”
Sheppard got the hug next. While Felix was holding him tight, Sheppard leaned in and whispered, “2-3-7-1, enter. Give ‘em hell, Felix.”
“Bye, bye, Sheppard,” Felix said, grinning happily.
The trip to the ‘gate was quiet. Rodney had tried to say something, but Elizabeth had shook her head and said severely, “Not now, Rodney.”
Ronon and Teyla were waiting anxiously by the DHD; okay, Teyla was the only one that looked anxious. Carson was there, along with Lorne. Instead of a, “Good to see you, Colonel, Rodney! Are you okay?” they got Ronon pulling his super blaster on them, and Teyla aiming her P90 at their chests.
“What’s going on, buddy?” Sheppard asked Ronon.
“Are you nuts?” Rodney stepped forward to push Teyla’s gun to the side, but she tightened her hold and did something funky with her eyes, opening them wide and sort of jerking her head to the side.
Between clenched teeth she said, “Dr. McKay, you must not resist. We are to escort you back, where you will be placed in one of our rehabilitation centers.”
“What? We don’t have --”
Sheppard and Rodney got it at the same time. Definitely being observed. Play along. That kind of thing. They backed away and acted suitably cowed. Carson came near and pulled zip tie restraints from his vest. “Hands, Colonel,” he instructed curtly, avoiding eye contact.
“Is this really necessary?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. She looked pretty pissed.
Sheppard held his hands out and had to fight back the urge to punch someone. It had been a long week. Next, Rodney was restrained, and only then did Ronon lower his weapon and Teyla dialed Atlantis, shielding the DHD with her body to hide the coordinates.
They were led through like prisoners going to the gallows. As soon as the ‘gate snapped shut behind them, Sheppard turned to the nearest body, Teyla, and said, “Get these things off me.”
Teyla pulled her knife free and moved to cut them, but Elizabeth touched her hand, staying her from doing so. “No.” She turned to face Sheppard and Rodney. “Escort these gentlemen to my office, please.”
Teyla sheathed her knife and shot a questioning look at Elizabeth before accepting what was there and nodding. She turned back to Sheppard and said, “I’m sorry, Colonel.” She took his arm while Ronon took Rodney’s.
Sheppard yanked his arm free, seething. “I know the way.” What was going on? Had someone drugged his people? He glanced first to Lorne, who quickly found a Marine to go order around. Carson ducked through the side exit. Sheppard looked over at Rodney and got a mirror image of his own irritation.
Rodney leaned toward him and hissed, “What’s going on? They’re acting mind-cleansed or something.”
“Mind-cleansed?” Sheppard hissed back. “What the hell’s that?”
“It’s this thing, from a TV show. Oh, come on, you had to have watched Farscape.”
“Scooby Doo, remember?”
“God, you are such a TV philistine. Your Catwoman knowledge sucks, you don’t know Felix the cat --” At Sheppard’s dark look, he sighed, “Fine, okay, so these people are on a spaceship, and then there’s these other people, they’re the bad guys. They suck the good guys’ eyeballs out, inject some kind of drug that makes them all weird and controlled, and --”
“Ruh-roh Raggy,” Sheppard supplied, sotto-voice.
“Exactly,” Rodney agreed.
Teyla guided Sheppard into a chair in front of Elizabeth’s desk and Ronon shoved Rodney into the other. They then leaned watchfully against the wall, looking anything but mind-cleansed, as far as Sheppard could figure. “They don’t look like someone’s controlling them.”
Rodney studied them before shrugging. “Yes, well, you never can tell what’s motivating them.”
Elizabeth came in a few moments later, shutting the door behind her. She strode to her desk and Sheppard recognized the false calm before the storm. He started to open his mouth when she shook her head. “No, John. I don’t want you to talk. Either of you.” She stared pointedly at Rodney. “Just listen.” She opened her desk drawer and pulled two slips of paper free, sliding them until there was one in front of Sheppard and one in front of Rodney.
“Before you are the legal forms committing you to receive care for your mental illnesses. Rodney, this fiasco started with you. Your continued rudeness with the liaison you were assigned to work with on MX8-344 was the basis for the actions that followed. Your behavior was seen as mentally unstable, and on their world anyone even remotely suspected as being mentally ill is thrown in an institution. Do you have any idea what it took to get them to release you both?”
Sheppard realized that was a rhetorical question.
Too bad Rodney didn’t.
“Elizabeth, it’s completely ludicrous! You can’t honestly think this is my fault --”
Her lips thinned. “Did you, or did you not, call their scientist an ‘imbecile born with impotent brain cells’?”
Rodney shifted in his chair, his zip-tied hands resting in his lap. “I might have,” he finally admitted. “Still, since when is being a jerk proof of mental illness?”
“Since the moment you stepped foot on MX8-344,” she replied icily. “And it wasn’t just one insult, Rodney. It was several to more than one of their scientists! It’s no wonder they thought you were insane.”
Sheppard nodded. “Sometimes you do act a little nuts, McKay.”
Elizabeth turned her attention on him. “And you! Just when I was making progress in getting both of you released, you go and rope all the other crazy people into some hair-brained escape plan that didn’t have a hope in hell of working, making you look all the more guilty! I was this close,” she made a small pinch with her fingers, “and then suddenly they withdrew their offer, saying you were possibly sicker than they’d initially believed!”
Sheppard considered his options. Rodney looked at Sheppard. They looked at Elizabeth and said, in stereo, “It’s not our fault.”
She assessed them with a scary look that made Sheppard fear for her sanity, before she scooped the papers up and shoved them in her desk. “For the record,” she said, sitting down, “I had to agree that you were both mentally ill. I had to agree to get you help, and I had to furnish proof of that agreement. As far as those papers are concerned, you are both supposed to arrive in Carson’s care at 0900 this morning, and to remain there for a period of time undetermined. Until you have been suitably rehabilitated.” She fixed a steely glare at both of them, but Sheppard kind of thought most of it was aimed at Rodney. “Am I understood?”
Rodney looked confused. “Um, go to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200?”
“Rodney --”
“Okay, okay.” He sighed. “Fine, no insulting people outside of the expedition.” She stared over her nose at him. “That’s as much as I’m willing to promise,” he added.
“John?” she asked.
“I didn’t do anything!” Sheppard protested.
Rodney nudged him with an elbow and reminded him, “The escape attempt.”
“That doesn’t count. I didn’t insult anyone.”
Elizabeth looked disappointed. “It’s your job, John, to control the members of your team. See that in the future, you do so.”
Sheppard eyed her, disgruntled. He had seven days of stubble, he was hungry, and he’d kill for a hot shower. “Great.” Sheppard looked sideways at Rodney. “Next time you insult anyone off-world, I’m sending you through the ‘gate without an IDC.”
“Stop being facetious,” lectured Elizabeth.
Exasperated, Sheppard raised his bound hands and gestured at McKay. “It’s Rodney! Nothing’s going to make him shut up.”
Ronon chuckled, but quickly sobered when Teyla and Elizabeth focused their ire on him.
With a nod to Teyla, they were finally cut free of the plastic cuffs. Sheppard rubbed his hands and considered making a run for it. Then again, Rodney would probably never forgive him if Sheppard left him behind to face the rest of Elizabeth’s anger alone.
She kept staring at them, as if debating whether to keep chewing them out, or to dismiss them. Finally, she waved tiredly at the door. “Just go. Try to remember that, in the future, I’m not always going to be capable of securing your release. These people were well-protected, John. You know that. The Daedalus isn’t scheduled to return until next month and short of a surgical strike against their people, incurring casualties on both sides, we wouldn’t have been able to free you. Rodney, you have to do better than try.”
They stood. Sheppard hitched his pants and tried to think of something reassuring to say. Rodney grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door, muttering, “Don’t bother. I think it’s that time of the month.”
Sheppard snorted. “No kidding. And they say we’re nuts…”
Part Two
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-25 07:09 pm (UTC)