The first thing I notice is that the pain is gone. Well, it's not the first first thing I notice – I notice the fact I'm still alive, breathing and thinking first, but the lack of pain is something I notice very fast. I am a genius after all. Which is why I'm suddenly starting to wonder if the lack of pain is actually a good thing. I can't feel... anything. Surly I should feel something?
Okay, let's try something small. Moving. Right body, listen up, time to move... Any time now... Well, that didn't work. My body doesn't seem to be responding to my brain. Which is... scary. All my life I've counted on my brain to get me through life. My body wasn't as important, sure I ate to keep my blood sugar high enough and sure, I like eating, especially power bars and oh! Hospital food. MREs are good too. Okay, I really like my food. But even so, half the time it doesn't even register what I'm eating because I'm too busy trying to save our asses from whatever it is that is trying to kill us.
So you see, my brain is the most important part of me. I like my brain. It keeps me safe. It keeps everyone safe. Could you imagine the amount of people they would need to replace my brain power? Zeplin is good, but you would need at least three of him... oh hey! I can open my eyes!
“Well, well, so you've finally decided to wake up McKay.”
I know that voice. It's a joking smooth, all American voice. That can only belong to one smart ass of a Major. Ouch. Whiteness everywhere. Shutting them again.
“No, don't go back to sleep, time to rise and shine.” He's using his sing-song voice, the one he always uses just before he says something insulting – to me anyway. And then he smiles, like he thinks he's done something funny. “Let's see those big blue eyes.” Fine, fine Major, I'll open my eyes again.
Ouch. That HURT. Where the hell is Carson anyway? Why isn't he pumping me full of his happy drug? Or at the very least turning the light down.
“Lights.” I grunt out. I didn't realise how much I don't want to talk – or how much my throat doesn't want me to talk.
“Say please.” The Major's got a teasing look on his face, which I can just see if I squint at him, but my headaches getting worse and my temper is getting shorter.
“Lights. Down. Now.” surprisingly enough he actually does what I asked... no told him to do. The room gets dimmer and I sigh in relief, the pounding in my head lessening slightly. I could still do with Carson making the rest of my pain go away. Hello, injured man awake here! Oh, wait, I should thank Sheppard for turning the lights down.
“Good to see your useful for something.” Wait, wait, wait, that's not what I wanted to say! I wanted to thank him, it's not so hard to say thank you... crap, I think I've offended him. I open my mouth again, this time to differently say thank you.
"Shut the hell up McKay!” He snaps. Oh. Okay. Shutting up. Right now. Outside at least...
“And don't even think about snarking at me internally McKay, that is not acceptable.” He adds.
Damn.
“But...”
“Ack! No buts! Keep your thoughts to yourself McKay.”
Translation: You're an ass McKay and I can't even be bothered to call you by your title, meaning I don't give a damn about you and I sure as hell don't have any respect for you.
I'm so shocked that for a few seconds I'm pretty sure I forgot how to breathe. I simply stare at him, that annoying smirk viable on his face. He doesn't seem to care that he's just insulted me or proven that I don't mean a thing to him. The smirk slips after a while and he leans forward, a concerned look on his face.
I automatically flinch. I didn't mean to, but I can't help it. Too many times I've let my mouth run off and I've been hurt as a result. He freezes and then slowly, deliberately, draws back.
Part of me is sure I'm over reacting slightly to Major Sheppard. It seems I react to being hurt and then mocked in a certain way as well. Maybe I should apologise to him, I know that he isn't really being serious. I mean, I'm pretty sure he's not being serious. I know I can be an ass sometimes, hell, I know I'm an arrogant bastard, but I actually thought the Major sort of liked me.
Before I can say anything though – and really, what could I say? Except for an awkward 'sorry'... but he's already turning to leave, a sort of frozen expression on his face as if he's trying to hide the anger he feels.
This is more familiar to me. This I know and understand. Friendship is pain, friendship is being hurt... huh...
I guess friendship is another kind of art.
Go Back: The Art of Sport
Go Forward: ... And You're Out
