Work Text:
“You,” Rodney McKay puffed, “are a sadist.”
He meant it, too. A mile-run around one of the empty levels of the city, followed by twenty push-ups, had nearly done him in as it was. Add to that the two dozen sit-ups and—his real terror—a few chin-ups, and he’d gone past exhaustion and into full system-collapse.
His diatribe was utterly ignored. Rodney managed a scowl between gasps for air. “I’m not talking about…middle school gym teacher sadistic or…even dissertation board cruelty. I mean…real Marquis de Sade territory.”
This time he received a placid smile.
One more chin-up. He would reach down into his deepest reserves and scrape together enough for one last chin-up. That would make an even…well, three, but the point was that he was done, finished. Rodney struggled for breath as he prepared for the final push, expecting any minute to lapse into hyperventilation. “I had no idea…you had it in you. That sort of heartlessness…takes real talent.”
John Sheppard was grinning now. “Oh, I don’t know, I think if you’re still talking this much then I’m doing something wrong.”
Rodney clamped his lips shut and glared, only to be panting a moment later as he struggled to pull himself up to the bar. Space was obviously relative, too, as the bar seemed so much farther away now than it had looked five minutes before. Just a last few inches…
With a groan, he cleared the bar, resisting temptation to hook his chin on it like he had the first time, only to nearly bite off his tongue. No, this time he just let himself drop, groaning again as his rubber arms took the brunt of his weight before he let go and collapsed to the floor.
Sheppard crouched down next to him, eyebrows raised. “Done so soon?”
“Oh, yes.” Air was such a sweet thing. “Not that I’m not into physical pain as much as the next guy…but I think I’ve reached my quota for the day. For the year, actually. Come back and see me next January…we’ll make it a yearly event. Like a birthday, only with torture instead of cake.”
“If you were one of my people, this would just be the start of your daily workout, McKay.” John absently rubbed his slinged arm.
He had to mention that. The thread of good humor in Rodney’s grousing instantly unraveled. “Yes, well,” he said quietly, lifting his aching body up from the ground and biting back a moan. “As I think we were all reminded the other day, I am not one of ‘your people,’ so if you’ll just let me drag my flabby scientist self back to my lab where it belongs, I’ll let you get back to your people.”
John rose in a smooth motion to meet his eyes levelly, his smile also gone. “That’s not what I meant.”
“That is what I meant, Major, so…” He waggled his fingers. “Good-bye.”
Sheppard’s words, cold and flat, stopped him before he took more than a step. “If you want to stay on my team, McKay, that means you’re one of mine and you’ll train like one of mine. No exceptions.”
Rodney swallowed, his empty stomach suddenly roiling and heavy. He didn’t turn, didn’t even look over his shoulder as he answered, “Maybe that’s your answer right there, Major.” And chin raised, kept walking.
Sheppard didn’t call him back this time. But for once, Rodney really, really had wished he had.
It was a long afternoon.
Radek had a lot of figures for him to go through, and Rodney found himself reviewing them on autopilot, scribbling corrections in the margins in a hand he barely recognized as his own. His thoughts were elsewhere.
Back on Pearl, actually. Whatever they had that passed for oysters, the planet lived up to its name with shining white beaches and the white marble city near its shore. They were approximately at Earth’s level of technology, which was what had hooked Rodney’s interest. Cultures advanced at different rates in different areas, and the Pearl-ians had taken leaps in mechanical engineering that more than made up for their lags in informational or agricultural engineering. It had made for exciting potential for trade.
Until it had turned out what they really wanted in exchange was human labor and additions to their gene pool because their race was inexplicably dying out. And they weren’t taking no for an answer.
The next thing Rodney had known, the four of them were on the run, only Sheppard’s training getting them safely and covertly out of the city. Across the open expanse of white beach, however, their only choice had been to make a run for the gate, as fast as possible.
And they all knew who the weak link on the team was when it came to speed.
Rodney had done his best, he really had, but he hadn’t been a fast runner even as a gawky kid with long legs. Time had done him no favors, and it had taken all he had just to bring up the rear of the team as they ran for it. He might have even made it, too, if fatigue hadn’t made him clumsy, tripping over his own feet into the sand.
Sheppard had appeared next to him before Rodney even figured out what had happened. The major pulled him to his feet and herded him after Teyla and Ford, who were just disappearing through the gate. But it was just the extra bit of time the Pearl-ians had needed to muster those sweet little ships Rodney had hoped to trade for, and strafe them as they struggled to reach the gate. Sheppard had taken a hit in the arm yanking Rodney out of the way of a blast that would have struck him dead center. They were holding each other up by the time they finally stumbled through the event horizon, Rodney exhausted and John bleeding.
He knew it was his fault. Had silently taken responsibility for it just as he had for the people he’d lost since their arrival in Atlantis. But the hard look John had given him before Carson hurried him off…
So Rodney hadn’t uttered a peep of protest when Sheppard had shown up at the lab that next morning and declared he was going to get his team civilian into shape. Whether it was punishment or just a healthy desire not to get shot again, the major seemed determined to drive him to the point of collapse. Rodney had kept his mouth shut until he’d reached that point and passed it, sarcasm finally taking over out of sheer self-defense. He’d nearly gotten his team-leader killed. John had every right to be a little irked with him.
But…it still made Rodney flinch. He’d never expected to land on a field team, let alone Sheppard’s, but it was an honor he’d been proud of and had worked hard to earn. To find he wasn’t keeping up his end because he wasn’t up to USAF or even Athosian standards was a difficult pill to swallow. To find he wasn’t up to John Sheppard’s made him choke. And no amount of exercise seemed likely to change that.
The door slid open, and Rodney’s head shot up in a moment of hope. He winced at the sight of Zelenka coming in, floppy-haired head bowed over his electronic clipboard. By the time he looked up, Rodney had tacked a pleasantly bland look into place. “Radek.”
“Rodney, I have the power-level figures from the interior sensor array. I am concerned about this one area…”
With a sigh, Rodney McKay took the clipboard from him and resigned himself to being only a scientist again.
A distant chime rang out. Which didn’t fit with the pristine white beach stretching out as far as the eye could see. Rodney frowned at the scene around him.
The chime sounded again, and the beach faded, turning into the bland metal walls of his quarters. Rodney reeled in his gaping jaw, absently rubbing away the drool that had traced a line down one corner, and blinked. Definitely his room. Which meant—
“Good morning.”
It was an insanely cheerful voice at that hour of the morning…whatever hour it was…but it was with a different source of bafflement that Rodney stared at the figure standing beside his bed. “What are you doing here?” he asked stupidly.
“You weren’t coming to door,” Sheppard replied with a shrug, as if that answered everything.
Belatedly, Rodney realized he was sprawled across his bed in nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, and he gathered his blanket to himself self-consciously. “The door was locked.”
“I have a key,” John said pleasantly, tapping the side of his head.
“Somehow, I don’t think the Ancients went around barging into others’ rooms because they could outthink the locks,” Rodney said. It came out sour, but what he was was confused. John Sheppard in his room early in the morning was weird. John Sheppard in his room after the last few days was inexplicable. “So, may I ask what was so urgent that you felt the need to break into my room and wake me up at…” He finally squinted at his watch. “Eight a.m.?” Okay, so not that early, but he refused to back down. When at a disadvantage, bluff like crazy. “Is the city on fire?”
“Nope.”
“Kavanaugh blew up something.”
If John’s one arm wouldn’t have been in a sling, Rodney was sure they would have both been clasped clasped behind his back as he rocked insufferably on his heels. “Uh-uh.”
“The Genii are invading again?”
“God, I hope not.”
Rodney gave a sigh of exasperation. Yesterday, he’d wanted like anything to have Sheppard pay him a visit, and now he couldn’t wait to get rid of the man. “So,” he said with deliberate patience, “do I have to keep guessing, or have I earned the free microwave? Because I have to tell you, Major, if this is some plan to drive me crazy, haunting my room and waking me up to play 20 Questions, I have to say, I’m a little disappointed. I thought you a more creative than that—maybe some flickering lights or spooky voices.”
Sheppard crossed his arm across his chest, cradling the sling. “Oh, I don’t want to drive you crazy, McKay, I just wanna whip that sorry body of yours into some kind of shape. Now, are you gonna get up, or do I have to send Sergeant Bates in to get you moving? Because believe me, you’re not gonna enjoy the way he’ll do it.”
Another day, the threat would have had him swallowing and scrambling, but Rodney just stared at Sheppard with drawn eyebrows. “Get me into shape?”
“Yes, Rodney,” the major said patiently. “Remember yesterday? Running, sit-ups, push-ups? Sheppard’s patented fitness and exercise plan? You had a lot to say about it, as I recall.”
“But I thought…”
“What, that I would just drop you from the team because you were feeling lazy? C’mon, McKay, you don’t give up that easy, we both know that. You’re going to get in shape even if it kills you, and you’re going to do it just to make me eat my words.” His mouth twitched in the amused way it often did when Rodney argued with him over something. Which was a lot of the time, actually, but not since Pearl. “So, you coming?”
Rodney stared at him a moment longer, then silently rose and reached for his clothes, audience or not. And tried to puzzle out what was going on.
Yesterday, Sheppard had sounded ready to cut him from the team, a move Rodney not only understood but even, to some extent, agreed with. This morning, the major was there talking exercise and mission-readiness. Had there been some chapter in between, something Rodney had skipped? Because he was pretty sure he was missing something. But he silently followed Sheppard out and started running on command.
His lungs and legs burned by the time he completed the circuit to the waiting major, then started in on the push-ups. Maybe Sheppard just didn’t want to let him off so easy. That made a little more sense. The question was, would he keep it up until Rodney was in whatever John deemed good shape, ready to be on the team again, or would he push Rodney to his limits and then write him off as not being field-ready? As if that were news now, a month into their move to Atlantis.
Of course, until that week, Sheppard hadn’t gotten shot because of him, either.
Rodney bit his tongue and started pushing.
His hands could deftly separate wires and turn delicate screws, but they were not made to support his entire body weight. After the last push-up, Rodney flopped over onto his back, wincing as abused muscles twinged, and glowered up at his tormentor.
“I think…you’re enjoying this.”
“Absolutely.” Not a shred of sympathy in the man’s face.
Rodney shook his head, rolling it back and forth against the hard floor, breathless, disgusted. “So, when am I…going to prove I can…pull my own weight?”
Sheppard’s forehead creased. “What’re you talking about?”
What was the point of tiptoeing around the elephant in the middle of the room, right? He could hardly end up worse than he was just then. Rodney gulped, catching his breath and plunging on. “Would it help if I said I was sorry? That I wish you’d have just let me get shot? I’m sure it would’ve hurt less than this.”
John’s face was impassive now. “Is that what you think this is about? Some kind of test you have to pass to prove you’re worthy to stay on the team?”
Rodney rubbed sweat out of his eyes, feeling a deep tiredness. “Well, for a while I thought it might be some kind of punishment for getting you shot, but I finally decided even you weren’t that petty.” At John’s silence, Rodney rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, isn’t it obvious? First you get shot helping me try to keep up, then suddenly I have to get in shape with a fitness regimen that, by the way, I think was taken straight from Mengele’s torture manual? What am I supposed to think?”
“How about I’m tired of losing my people on missions, and if there’s something I can do to make sure you’re better prepared for next time and more likely to survive, I’m going to do it?”
It was sarcastic, irritated, and about as friendly as a cactus, and Rodney stared back dumbly, afraid he’d heard it wrong. “W-what?” he finally stammered.
Sheppard’s mouth thinned. “Oh, yeah, now you’re speechless. When you’re upset, I can’t shut you up, but I say I’m worried about you and you dry up like Hoover Dam. Do you take lessons on annoying, McKay, or is this all natural talent?”
“So…I’m still on the team.”
“Yes, Rodney, you’re still on the team.”
“Even if we were going on a mission today.”
“Yes, Rodney,” John said long-sufferingly.
“And you weren’t trying to…get back at me for getting you shot.”
“You didn’t get me shot—I was slow getting out of the way. I know this is gonna come as a real shock, Dr. McKay, but not everything is about you.”
Such as the whole reason for this foray into Richard Simmons’ domain. It wasn’t about punishing him, it was about Sheppard worrying. About losing another…
Oh.
Rodney winced. “So, uh…we’re okay then.” His finger moved vaguely between the two of them.
“Sure, just as soon as you can do more than three chin-ups without looking like you’re gonna pass out.”
It already felt easier to breathe. In fact, Rodney felt pretty darn good considering it was only 8:30 and he was already hot and tired and ready for a five-course dinner.
It felt like he had a place again. A team he belonged to again. One he’d apparently never lost.
Rodney shrugged, a bad attempt at nonchalance. “Twenty sit-ups?”
“Yup.” John’s expression said he wasn’t buying it but willing to play along.
Rodney tucked his hands under his head and pulled his knees up. “And all your…people do this?”
There was a smile now in Sheppard’s voice. “Every one of ’em.”
“I don’t suppose there’s some sort of separate…scientist, non-military routine?”
“Why do you think it’s only twenty?”
He blinked, and started doing sit-ups.
And John leaned against his feet, balancing him effortlessly because, well, as Rodney was learning one sore muscle at a time, it was what teammates do.
The End