DAMN!

[misaffection]

Damn, damn, damn.

Damn Tapping and her ability to be free for Grace Under Pressure. Otherwise we'd have had Cadman and my ship would be canon.

Rodney and Laura stuck in a ickle teeny space. Begs fic really doesn't it? I'm presuming she'd actually be there rather than just a figment of his imagination, but I can't figure why.

I also have the idea that if he hallucinated anyway it would be funner.

Coming soon (ish) - once I have it figured out.

In the meantime, on a theme, fic-

Surfacing
Tag for Grace Under Pressure.
Rated: Teen

Rodney McKay lay on the bed in Atlantis' infirmary, idly watching the drip of the saline feed. It was bizarrely fascinating, easily holding what there was of hazy attention. His senses were fogged by a combination of exhaustion, medication and the after-effects of a fairly severe head injury. Despite this, the recollection of what had happened hovered at the back of his mind, the stuff of his worst nightmares – the forced enclosure, the rising waters, the utter helplessness in the face of impending death. He ignored it, compartmentalised it by sheer stubbornness and the vague dream-like state the drugs had put him into.

The unpleasantness had not ended with his spectacular rescue by Sheppard and Zelenka. After the euphoria of escaping certain doom had faded, shock had set in hard. He vaguely remembered collapsing in the back of the puddle jumper before it had even reached the surface; of the journey back, there was nothing. There had been a brief moment of consciousness in the jumper bay, enough to see Carson looking worried and Elizabeth white with fear.

It had been close. The shock and hypothermia had left him shivering for a time measured only by Carson's administration of yet more drugs. At the worst of it there had been the overwhelming fear that he was dreaming and in reality was still in the jumper, still drowning. He felt frozen, a bone-deep cold that made him ache of an level he'd never experienced before. Even breathing hurt. Unconsciousness was a blessed relief from the agony, yet over and over he fought for awareness, refusing to give up, refusing to die.

Rodney shifted and sighed. He'd won, eventually, but it had left him utterly exhausted. He knew he should probably sleep, but there was a vague terror attached to that – he didn't want to close his eyes until he could be sure he'd be able to open them again.

So he focused on the mundane and waited and slowly his strength began to return. The cold ebbed to aches in his joints and the prickling pain of his hands and face where the salt of the water had rubbed at exposed skin. Ironically, despite the hours spent in water, he was horrendously thirsty.

“Carson?” he said, his voice harsh from dryness.

The doctor immediately appeared, scanning his face and the monitors. “Rodney,” he replied, relief audible in his tone. “You're awake.”

“Yes.” Even though the word was weak there was patent sarcasm in it and the expression that crossed Rodney's face.

Carson ignored it. “How d'you feel?”

“Like crap,” Rodney answered emphatically.

“Well I'm hardly surprised, considering what you've been through. There's not many people who'd survive hours of exposure to freezing sea water. You really are the most stubborn person.”

“It gets me by,” admitted Rodney. “Could I have a drink?”

“Of course,” Carson said and went to the water cooler. “You know, I know that you were terribly close to hypothermia when you got back here, but in a way, you were rather lucky.”

Rodney took the cup off Carson and looked at him in disbelief. “How so?”

“Your head injury – it was quite severe. If it hadn't been for the temperature of the water lessening the bleeding you'd had bled to death before Zelenka had even figured out where you were.”

“Marvellous,” Rodney said dryly. “I should remember to smack myself on the head the next time I sink in a puddle jumper then should I?”

Carson smiled despite the caustic tone. In all truth he had been rather worried about brain damage but apparently McKay was none the worse for his experience and was recovering quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, given the return of his usual manner, but there was always a downside.

“Probably,” he said. “Since now Colonel Sheppard knows that they can be used as submersibles.”

“Joy,” Rodney grumped. He frowned at his cup of water. It was definitely missing something. “You know Carson, when I said 'drink' I really didn't mean water – I've had more than enough of that lately. What I need is a really strong coffee. And something to eat.”

“You need water; you're dehydrated. So no coffee because that makes it worse. But I can get you something to eat.”

Rodney rolled his eyes and watched Carson walk off. No coffee, marvellous. Damn it but he needed to wake up. However if Carson was going to refuse him, he'd just have to stick it out until he could escape the infirmary. He had no qualms about pretending to be a good little patient if it got him out of here quicker. There was so much he needed to do, most of it pinning down Sheppard and Zelenka and extracting the information of how they had achieved what he had thought unachievable.

Because he had been so sure at the time that no rescue was coming. Unused to both friendship and comradeship, he'd decided that as far as Atlantis was concerned he was a dead man. Afraid, alone and hurt he'd even ranted about Zelenka, blaming him for something that was nobody's fault. In his despair he'd forgotten how inventive the others could be, how determined they were when it came to retrieving lost members of the team. He'd forgotten those things and believed only his own actions would be able to save him. However the fact he was here, was alive and not drowned at the bottom of the ocean wasn't down to him.

It was down to Sheppard and Zelenka and Rodney wasn't sure that they really should have been that bothered. After all, during the Durondan incident he'd roundly insulted Zelenka and let Sheppard down, nearly killing him into the bargain. Yet despite that they had not hesitated in undertaking a daring and dangerous mission to haul his ass back to Atlantis.

Pulling himself into a sitting position and feeling aches in virtually every joint, Rodney knew some serious thanks were in order. The worst thing was, he knew if roles had been reversed he'd would have needed an awful lot of persuasion. He had a tendency to hold grudges and keep errors on account. Like Sam had said – petty.

He frowned at the infirmary's ceiling as he contemplated the strange visitation he'd had. He'd not mentioned his hallucination bar the one comment at the point of rescue. He rather suspected in doing so would see him in Heightmeyer's office for the foreseeable future, so he did the sensible thing and kept his mouth shut.

Carson returned at that moment with a tray of something that smelt divine, and Sheppard. The colonel grinned at his friend and Rodney managed a tired smile back.

“Nice to see you finally with it,” John said.

Carson placed the tray in front of Rodney. He stared at the plate of something that closely resembled an accident in his lab, shrugged and began to eat. John caught his expression and chuckled, then stole the tub of blue jello.

“Hey I was going to eat that!” Rodney protested.

“I couldn't find any grapes to bring you and then pinch,” John explained, continuing to eat. “And really, I'm doing you a favour – it tastes disgusting.”

“Well I'll never know now, will I?”

“You want it back?”

“Urg. No, thank you.”

“So. How are you feeling?”

Rodney gave John a level look. “I was in a crash. I hit my head. On top of that I spent several hours first cold, then soaked and cold. And to cap it all off, I almost drowned. How do you think I feel?”

“Ah. Well I don't suppose I'd feel too hot either. Still – we can use the jumpers as submersibles. That is pretty cool.”

“If you say so,” Rodney said, sounding unconvinced. “Personally, I don't think there's a whole lot down there to look at.”

“There was a sea monster,” John reminded him.

“So what? You're going to run tours?”

“It's an idea,” John said and then laughed outright at the expression on Rodney's face. “No, not really. But the biologists are besides themselves with excitement over... erm...”

“Lassie,” Rodney supplied with a rueful smirk.

“Lassie?”

“Yeah. I got kinda desperate. I tried to get it to go and get Uncle John and tell him little Rodney was stuck down the well.”

John snorted. “Well it didn't but it took a fancy to you. It was circling the jumper, which was how we found you.”

“I remember you saying something like that, yes.”

“Course, if it hadn't been for Zelenka, the junper wouldn't have gotten down there anyhow.”

“Yes, well. I had summised that they could be submersable. Still... I guess I have to hand it to Radek for pulling it off.” Rodney sighed and looked at John. “I have to thank you as well,” he said quietly.

“Ah don't think about it – just another day at the office.”

“No,” Rodney argued, shaking his head. “You really went out on a limb on this one. I am extremely grateful. And in the face of such... I really have to apologise-”

“Rodney? Shut up. Stuff happens. It just tends to happen a lot when you're around.”

“I was convinced you'd leave me to rot.”

“Geez, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It was nothing more than I deserved.”

John slammed the empty jello glass down. “That's crap Rodney and you know it. Okay you got it wrong on Duronda, but geez McKay – I think everyone's allowed one major fuck up. Mine was to wake up the Wraith. Not even blowing up a solar system tops that one. Quit it with the humble act – it doesn't suit you.”

Rodney grinned. “Okay.”

“And don't say a word to Zelenka. We were just doing what we're meant to. We don't leave our people behind.” John got up and started out of the infirmary. He paused at the door and looked back. “Especially not those who are our friends.”

Sheppard walked out, leaving Rodney smiling softly.

"You have some very smart, very motivated people on the surface, and the only thing any of them are working on right now is rescuing you."

It seemed like Sam was right after all.