Somewhere down the line I ended up in a heap on the floor, with John Sheppard's arms around me, his head on mine, rocking me gently, whispering quietly. He's trying to calm me down, to stop the flow of laughter and tears that are streaming from my eyes and mouth. Slowly the sounds die down and the laughter stops, followed quickly by the tears stopping. Then all I can hear is my harsh breathing – I should get that checked, I might have breathing troubles – and Sheppard's voice from somewhere above me as he talks about everything.
He's being nice to me. Why is he being nice to me? You don't act nice to someone you don't like... I can't think, can't concentrate. My head is fuzzy... I don't understand...
“Neither do I Rodney.”
Huh? Can Sheppard read minds now? God I hope not, because there are plenty of things going on in my head that I don't want him, or anyone to know about. Only because I'm trying not to think of them, I can't help but think of them. It's like when someone tells you 'don't turn around'. How many times do you listen? You can't help it.
“Rodney? Come on, you need to stay awake.” Sheppard says, dipping his head slightly. The only reason I know he's moved is because he brushes against my head. And I'm even more confused. He's acting... he's acting as if he likes me again... Oh dear lord.
I'm dying.
Why else would Sheppard be nice to be? He's gained the ability to read minds and he's discovered I'm dying. He's also glimpses all the nasty things in my head and he's confused. I'm a dead man.
“Rodney? You still there?” He sounds worried. Oh it must be really bad. I make some sort of noise, still in shock. I'm going to die... he sighs, and shifts slightly, reaching for his radio. He speaks into it, but it's as if I'm under water and I can't hear him clearly. After a few moments he drops the radio back to it's place and talks louder.
“You said you were confused. I was just telling you I was too.” Oh. So he's not reading my mind. Thank goodness for that. Now, if I could only get this death thing fixed...
“You Rodney, are acting all... discombobulated.” Sheppard said. I blinked a few times, trying to process what he said... did...
“Did you just use a long word?” I ask, straining my voice in an attempt to be loud enough. Above me, Sheppard twists his body slightly, until he's leaning sideways, his arms still holding me tightly in place, but now he can see my face and I can see his. He's smirking.
“What, don't you know what it means?”
“I do... I did... I'm just surprised you do...” I say slowly, knowing my voice is lacking... it's lacking something. Something Rodney McKayish. The smirk slips from from his lips and he's suddenly looking so damn serious. Crap. He's going to bring up the death thing.
“I want to know why you're quoting “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” at me, why you left the infirmary, why you are wandering the corridors leaving blood everywhere... and why you flinched when I leaned forward.”
Or not.
“You don't want a lot do you.” I whisper, closing my eyes. I really don't want to get into that last thing with him, it's bad enough knowing our friendship? Weird excuse for a friendship? Whatever. It's bad enough knowing it's gone without him rubbing it in my face.
“So, while we wait for Beckett and his team to get down here, you and I are going to have a little chat.”
Whoa, whoa. Carson? No, no, no, no, no, no. I can't talk to Carson! This is worse than Mary-Ann in Sixth grade chasing me all over the playground just to tell me she wasn't allowed to date a boy who built bombs and plotted world domination in his spare time. To be fair, I never plotted world domination in my spare time. I plotted during science class. Plot, plot, plot. Maybe if I move slowly I can slip away without Sheppard noticing... Only he does. So I struggle, trying to brake his hold on me, trying anything just to get away.
Any energy I might have is rapidly fading and Sheppard holds me in place almost effortlessly. This is so humiliating. I risk a glance at his face and instead of a disgusted look at my weakness, he's looking... concerned.
“Rodney? Rodney, calm down.” With a sigh I give up, resigning myself to loosing Carson too. Funny, I didn't realise how much I wanted to keep his friendship.. and Sheppard's... until they were going. And then gone.
“Now, why did you get so upset over the thought of Beckett? Or is it us talking?”
“Don't wanna loose again. Already lost you today...” My mouth appears to have high jacked itself. Whoever said 'honesty is the best policy', was a jackass.
“What? Loose me? Uh... Rodney I don't want to sound dim here but... you've lost me.”
“So we agree.” I choke. Boy, it's getting hot in here...
“No, we don't agree. I don't understand what you're talking about.” Sheppard said softly and damn, who would have thought this would hurt? The bastard. He's going to make me spell it out.
“Don't.” Tears are welling up in my eyes and I'm going to cry again. Manly crying... no... I'm going to bawl like a little girl.
Rather like Mary-Ann in seventh grade. What can I say? Hell hath no fury like a geek scorned. Ugh... it's getting really hot in here... Sheppard's still looking at me, wanting me to say it.
Fine.
“Loose my friends...” There. I said it and I hope you're happy. I close my eyes again because I can't stand to look at him. It's only when I close my eyes that I realise how hot I am. I'm gasping for breath and I'm hot, even the blood running down the side of my face is blistering hot to the touch.
“Rodney, you're burning up.” Sheppard told me, his hand brushing along my forehead. No shit Sherlock. So hot and so tired. So tired...
“Stay with me Rodney, hang on just a little longer!”
I'm sorry Major. I can't.
“I can't...”
Go Back: Forty-Two
Go Forward: Crucible
