Chapter Text
On August 9, 2005, Earth Standard, Dr. Rodney McKay accompanied…
Rodney stopped reading and looked up. “What is this?”
John had perched on the corner of his table as soon as he’d handed Rodney the sheet of paper and now just smirked at him. “Keep reading.”
“But—”
“Keep reading.”
He made a face but bowed his head again.
…McKay accompanied his team through the Atlantis Stargate to planet M5T-339…
M5T-339. He wouldn’t be forgetting that planet designation anytime soon. Rodney felt himself flush and looked up to ask again, “What is this?”
The smirk was gone, the answer almost gentle this time. “Keep reading, Rodney.”
A request, not an order. Rodney bit his lip and kept going.
…M5T-339, known by the natives as Aquada.
“Not that it was a water planet. I mean, why call a place ‘Aquada’ if there’s no water? Or Naquadah. That would have made sense, too. But no, just trees. And grass. Lots of grass.”
“Would you shut up and keep reading?”
“Is that a question?” At Sheppard’s glower, Rodney grimaced but went on.
While half the team went to examine planetary defenses, Dr. McKay and Lieutenant Aiden Ford looked at their farms.
“Farms?” Rodney looked up incredulously. “Those were agricultural centers, or do those words have too many syllables for you? You make it sound like we were touring Old McDonald’s backyard.”
“Did they have animals?”
“Of course.”
“And fields?”
“Yes, they were growing—”
“Then they’re farms.”
“So says the expert from cattle country. I’m surprised you didn’t call them ranches.”
“Ranches are—”
“I know what ranches are, okay?”
“McKay…”
“I know, I know. Keep reading.”
At this time, Dr. McKay and Lt. Ford came under sudden attack from what would turn out to be a rebel faction opposed to the central Aquadan government.
“‘Sudden attack’?” Rodney repeated bitterly. “Try ambush. They were waiting for us. We never had a chance.”
“That’s why it’s called an attack, Rodney. If they came bearing Christmas presents or hors d’oeuvres, we’d call it something different.”
Lt. Ford was injured…
Rodney stopped. “Injured” was such a little word for so much blood. He could still feel it seeping through his fingers as he pressed down on the makeshift bandage he’d fashioned. “Try ‘cold-bloodedly shot,’” he muttered. “Or maybe ‘bleeding like a stuck pig.’ It goes with your whole Old McDonald theme.”
“You saved his life,” Sheppard reminded him quietly. “Doc said he would have bled out if you hadn’t put that dressing on.”
“Yes, well, I have a curious aversion to people dying around me,” Rodney snapped. “Consider it a character flaw: necrophobia.” He dipped his head determinedly to read on.
Lt. Ford was injured and Dr. McKay was taken hostage.
He trailed off, staring at the paper.
“Rodney?”
“I was just, uh…” He licked his lips. “Did you know they threatened to shoot Ford in the head if I didn’t go with them?”
The major’s eyes had narrowed. “No, actually—somebody must have left that part out.”
“I just…I thought you should know that. I didn’t just go with them because they told me to.”
“Rodney—”
“Shut up, I’m reading.”
Major Sheppard and Teyla Emmagen, the remainder of the team, were immediately summoned by an Aquadan official. While Teyla tended to Lt. Ford, it was determined Dr. McKay was being held in a building on the outskirts of the city.
Rodney’s eyes flicked up. “You never told me how you found the place.”
“What?”
“The place they were holding me. How did you…?” he motioned with his hand.
“Oh.” Sheppard crossed his arms. “Actually, the government had a lot of intel on this group and the building was one of several suspected safe houses for the faction. Didn’t take much to figure out it would be the best place to keep you.”
“So, uh, you figured it out?” Rodney wasn’t even sure why it mattered, but it did.
“I guess you could say that.” John was looking at him narrowly, trying to figure out where he was going with this. “I couldn’t have done it without their intel, though.”
Rodney arched an eyebrow. “Which they just gave to you because you asked so nicely.”
A cagey smile appeared briefly. “I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”
“Yes, I’m sure you can,” Rodney murmured. When one of Sheppard’s people’s lives was on the line, especially. He knew that but hadn’t really followed the train of thought to the end until now. Freshly humbled, Rodney continued.
Combining forces with the Aquadans, the building was successfully penetrated.
Rodney snorted. “Penetrated?”
“Penetrated. That’s the term for it. You know, breached, entered, infiltrated…”
“It’s just so…military.”
“Huh,” Sheppard said dryly. “I wonder where I get that from?”
“You have a job where you shoot things and blow them up, and then you use utterly sleep-inducing jargon like ‘penetrated’ or ‘secured.’”
“Well, I’m sorry if it’s not graphic enough for you. I’ll try to do better next time.”
“Fine.”
“Besides, there were no explosions and very little shooting. I only took out a couple of guys, myself.”
Rodney started, gazing up uncertainly at Sheppard. The major’s mouth was twisted with humor but there was a serious glint in his eyes. Right, no explosions because that might have pushed Rodney’s captors to do something rash, and as for the bodies…well, Sheppard tended to take personally people getting in between him and his team, especially people with bad intentions. Also something Rodney hadn’t given thought to, for good reason. He swallowed, not sure if he felt sick or reassured, and kept reading.
By then, Dr. McKay had been tortured for information on accessing the Stargate, but…
His mouth went dry. Tortured. Another innocuous little word that was utterly incapable of expressing what really happened. Absently, one hand rubbed the healed flesh of the other’s wrist. The restraints had cut into his skin, but their real terror lay in his helplessness as they jerked one arm out of its socket, then wrapped that whip around his throat, choking off his air and sending him into frenzied fits over and…
“Look, Rodney, why don’t you skip ahead to—”
“No, I…no, I mean,” his eyes darted up, met a compassionate gaze, and even more nonplussed, fell again. “It’s just words on paper, right? Ancient history. Not Ancient history but, you know, in the past. As in not now. It’s not like that Neanderthal with the whip can hurt me anymore.”
A shadow fell across the paper he held. Sheppard had slid closer on the table, edging far enough into Rodney’s space that he almost instinctively scooted back. But he didn’t. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about, McKay,” John said quietly. “It messes with your head. But it also gets better. Believe me, I know.”
True, he did. Rodney didn’t know all the details, didn’t want to, but he recognized the voice of experience. He took a hiccupping breath, feeling the panic ease to mere skin-crawling levels, and nodded. “Yes, right. So if I, uh, turn into a quivering pile of Jell-O every time the subject comes up…”
“…I’ll make fun of you like I always do,” John said cheerfully, and nudged his leg with one toe. “But I’ll understand.”
“You have no idea what a great comfort you are,” Rodney said flatly. His heart had almost climbed back down into place again. “Any more consolation and I’ll shoot myself.”
“Don’t do that. We’re low on ammo, remember?”
He glowered at Sheppard, utterly without effect, and bent his head to read again.
“Oh, and Rodney?”
“What?” he barked.
“The caveman with the whip? He’s ancient history, too.”
He didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the hard truth in Sheppard’s eyes of what exactly that meant, but Rodney already knew. And…something in him sighed in relief. He nodded.
…but despite being injured and restrained, he was able to escape without revealing any information.
“I still don’t understand how you did that, by the way.”
“What, didn’t talk?” Rodney asked wearily. He wasn’t sure about that part, either, and wasn’t surprised at Sheppard’s surprise.
“No. I know how stubborn you can be, remember?” Both teasing and not. Rodney straightened a little. “I was talking about the escaping.”
He managed a smile that was almost mischievous. “Remember when we had those training exercises? The ones where your men thought all scientists were helpless?” They had bound their hands but not their feet. The exercise had been quickly suspended when Rodney had gotten fed up with the whole thing and applied his knee to the nearest sensitive body part. Sheppard had exempted him from training exercises after that, for everybody’s protection.
John winced.
Of course, Rodney had nearly concussed himself head-butting his torturer, and if there had been more than the one guy in the room, he wouldn’t have had a prayer. Not to mention that as he’d staggered out of his little torture chamber, leaning heavily against the wall and terrified out of his wits, he’d had no idea what to do next. But if they wanted to call it an escape, he wasn’t arguing.
We encountered him in the hallway…
When he’d nearly smacked into Sheppard, then wasted no time collapsing on him. Rodney’s mouth curved. He was starting to like the whole military euphemism thing. If certainly made him seem a lot more heroic.
…at which time Dr. McKay was able to direct us to the rest of the rebels. The members of the faction were successfully rounded up within the hour.
Rodney frowned. “I did that?”
“Sure. You don’t remember me asking you where the others were?”
“Not really, no. I seem to recall being somewhat occupied at the time.” Staying conscious alone had required more concentration than he usually devoted to Atlantis’ latest crisis.
“Yeah, well, there was that.” John rubbed his jaw reflectively. “Actually, it was more like me asking questions and you grunting and pointing, but it did the job. We got all of ‘em, including the ones hiding in the cellar.”
Right, the cellar they’d threatened to throw him into. Rodney did remember that. Maybe he had been able to help more than he thought. Mostly he remembered sitting in the hallway with his back against the wall and his legs drawn up to cradle his bad arm, Sheppard’s hand resting on his knee to keep him from spinning away. He shuddered at the thought of the almost-forgotten cellar.
A boot bumped his knee.
Rodney huffed softly and went on.
While Teyla treated Dr. McKay, Major Sheppard secured the scene.
“Teyla,” Rodney repeated uncertainly.
“She cleaned up your wrists and throat, remember?”
“But she wasn’t the one who fixed my arm.”
“No, I was the one who had that pleasure. I didn’t want you kneeing Teyla anyplace unpleasant,” Sheppard drawled.
But Rodney hadn’t fought him, not when John had gingerly straightened his arm and gripped his shoulder, not when the unexpected jerk tore a cry from him and arched him away from the wall, not when gentle hands bound his arm to his chest afterwards, then rubbed the back of his neck in silent comfort until he could breathe again.
“Teyla treated Dr. McKay,” maybe, but Sheppard had secured a lot more than just the scene.
Subdued, Rodney continued.
The team was soon able to return to Atlantis. And in exchange for the help with their internal power struggle, the Aquadans gave significant concessions for future trade and allied help.
Rodney lifted an eyebrow. “What did we get for trade? I never asked.” In fact, he’d pretty much put the whole mission as far out of his mind as possible, until Sheppard had walked in and laid a piece of paper on the table in front of him.
“You know that stuff they’ve been serving up lately in the mess hall that you’ve practically been living on?”
Rodney’s eyes widened. The olive-colored brew didn’t taste a thing like coffee, but it wasn’t bad, and the caffeinated rush had converted him immediately. “Really? From the Aquadans? Hmm. All this might have been worth it after all.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too.”
Rodney cast him a sour glance. “Next time you go one-on-one with the Neanderthal, then you can talk.”
“I intend to,” John murmured, not really for Rodney’s ears. Two of his people going down made him a little overprotective. Sort of like a mother bear got a little overprotective when someone knocked around her cubs. Ford had been out of the infirmary only a day after Rodney and they were all cleared for missions now, but it would take a little longer for the dark gleam to fade from their team leader’s eyes.
Rodney had no answer to that, so he read on, the last paragraph on the page.
It is in light of these events, particularly Dr. McKay’s courage under duress, resistance to giving up information, coordinated escape, and assistance in capturing those responsible for the attack on him and his fellow teammate, resulting in improved relations with a foreign power, that this Commendation is issued…
Rodney’s mouth dropped open. “What? Commendation?”
“Yeah, Rodney, commendation. As in, good job.”
“I know what a commendation is, Major—unlike you, I actually paid attention in high school. But I don’t…I mean, I’m a civilian.”
“You know, there’s never been any doubt about that one, McKay.”
He frowned his annoyance, sure this was all a joke but seeing no teasing in Sheppard’s face. “But how can I—I mean, I didn’t do anything except get caught and manage to stay alive until you showed up. Unless standards have really gone down, I don’t exactly see that as award material.”
“Read the letter again.” John straightened, slid off the table. “Keep reading it until it sinks in. Being a hero isn’t always about big gestures. Sometimes it’s just staying alive, or worrying more about your people than about yourself.” He leaned closer, grinning. “You’re a smart guy, McKay, you’ll figure it out.” And with a casual two-fingered salute, he walked out of the lab.
Rodney stared after him, then down at the letter. “…courage under duress…” It sounded good. Heck, it sounded great, and okay, maybe he deserved a little pat on the back. But a whole letter of commendation, signed by none other than Major John Sheppard?
“Figure it out,” he whispered. Remembering John’s white-faced look when Rodney had fallen against him in that hallway. The quiet encouragement as he’d fought to keep from passing out from pain. The solid grip around his bicep as they’d shuffled their way back to the gate. The larger and better part of the story, carefully left out of the official version.
“Staying alive,” Sheppard had said, and there had been a few times when Rodney had been profoundly grateful for that skill in his friend, too. Maybe it wasn’t worth an official commendation, but they all had their ways of saying what they needed to. He got it now, and appreciated it.
Rodney carefully slid the letter into a drawer where it would be safe, and went back to work with a smile.
The End