RATING: PG - for some minor swearing
SEASON: First Season - after "Hide and Seek"
MAJOR CHARACTERS: McKay and Sheppard
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, Atlantis, etc, all belong to Sony, MGM, Gecko, Showtime, the Sci-Fi Channel.  I own nothing.  
SUMMARY:  Following the events of "Hide and Seek", Sheppard's suffering from insomnia and goes looking for some conversation.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT:  I stole much of this from SableCain and Tipper.  Yes, I was privy to their stories that take place in this timeframe.  SableCain has already written a lovely trilogy that starts with "Close your Eyes" and Tipper showed me Choosing His Team.  So, I nipped off and wrote one myself.  I am shameless.  Whether they can forgive me or not is up to debate, but I shall blame them, Tipper in particular, for everything.
FEEDBACK: Yes please! comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.
SPOILERS: Hide and Seek and The Rising
DATE: May 14, 2005, some housework done November 19, 2005

Ancient Devices
By NotTasha... old as the hills

3:00 AM and John Sheppard was restless. He lay back in his bed and stared up at the dark ceiling, imaging the patterns that would be up there.  God, it was hard to believe he was here – Atlantis -- in another galaxy – an unbelievable distance from his home.  It left him feeling surprisingly lonely, oddly alone.  Strange, because he wasn't the type that usually suffered from those particular feelings.

It was still freakin’ weird to him – all of this.

Unlike the others, he’d had little time to adjust to the idea of wormholes and planet hopping.  Everyone else had at least ‘heard’ of this technology before.  Oh, he’d become used to packing up and shipping out, but stepping through a Stargate was something altogether different.  Even when he lived in the isolation of Antarctica, he could have taken a trip to the States if the mood suited him – if he had the leave time, if it were the right time of year, if the weather allowed, if he had some cash and the wherewithal to accomplish it.  Sure, it’d be a feat, and of course he’d never actually DONE it, but from Pegasus, there was no going back.

The thing was… there was no real reason to go ‘home’.  He knew no one there anymore.  He’d been rather alone in the world for some time.  He’d liked it that way, had grown accustomed to the freedom.  But now, living on a new world, that aloneness had started to get to him.

After a moment, he rolled onto his side and blinked at the blackness, waiting and listening, hearing nothing.   The rooms were so quiet at night – the only sound was the nearly indistinguishable surf from somewhere beyond the walls.  It was supposed to be lulling, but to Sheppard, the white-noise was like a buzz that built up in his brain -- a buzz that wouldn’t let him sleep – that kept reminding him of things he really didn’t want to think about. 

He wasn't the type to get excited, but this new life had definitely put him on edge.

Restlessly he flopped onto his back again.  Atlantis WAS downright creepy at night.  There was this feeling of anticipation, as if something was always about to happen – as if he should be preparing for it.  The Wraith that he’d awakened were out there, ready to attack.  They could pop out of anywhere – aliens!  Well, he corrected himself, not ‘aliens’ exactly.  I guess we’re the aliens here – strangers in a strange land.

But, damn, if those Wraiths aren’t ‘alien’, I don’t know what is…  Scary as hell.  He swallowed, remembering the sight of Sumner, dying at the hands of one of them – a man once vital and strong – wasting away to nothing – pushed to the point where he wanted a bullet over the continued torture, over the fear of revealing too much.  Sheppard felt cold at that memory, recalling the moment he’d ended the suffering.

They’d managed to defeat those few Wraiths that watched over the Hive Ship – but had awakened thousands.  How am I going to stop them? he asked himself.  How will I protect everyone?  He was the commanding officer now – he was in charge.  Every soldier on the base turned to him for orders, for direction.  But it really didn’t fit him, did it?  He just wasn’t the ‘commanding’ type.  He was here only because of his genes. This wasn’t his job – it was Sumner’s – and he was just a pale replacement.

And the civilians counted on him to keep them safe.  How the hell was he supposed to do that with creatures as freaky as the Wraith knocking?  -- for certainly, they were coming.  It was only a matter of time.  How the hell would Atlantis survive it?  How would he keep them safe?  He was just one man, after all.  The responsibility was enormous.

And it wasn’t just the Wraith that needed consideration.  No, there were even weirdo-creatures lurking within their own city -- the energy being that had run riot through the base.  Sheppard’s skin felt electric at that memory.  Now that was a creep-fest! He remembered the dread that had clutched at him when the thing had come right at him as he waited for it at the trap – and a different sort of fear when he’d heard Ford being attacked, and again as he watched McKay striding straight into the heart of it.

How the hell had that civilian got messed up in this anyway?  That was the job of the military – to take on the scary creatures – to protect the scientists and Atlantis.  Personal Shield or not – nobody should have been expecting the physicist to deal with the damn thing!

He found himself sitting up in bed without even making the conscious effort to move.  This was pointless.  Frustrated with his inability to sleep, too keyed-up to even try lying down again, he shoved back the covers.  He stood and reached for the clothing that he’d worn earlier that day.  He didn’t bother turning on the lights to his room, but the space seemed to ‘know’ that he wanted to see.  The lights came on dimly, like little night-lights – just enough to let him find what he was looking for and to get dressed.

When he was ready, he pressed the panel at the door, and it whooshed open to the low light of the nighttime hallways.  Someone would be in the Mess, he figured -- maybe.  It was pretty damn late though.  A skeleton crew would be helming the Gateroom --   Dr. Marymere’s team and a couple of guards -- Wilmington was taking the shift tonight, wasn't he?  Other than them, every other soul should be asleep.

He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and made his way down the hallway, shambling on toward the cafeteria.  Maybe someone's awake and getting a snack.  There’d be a cold table set up for anyone who got peckish in the middle of the night.  If he was lucky, there might still be a few apples left.  He smiled, at that thought.  Apples -- he never realized how much he’d miss them.  In Antarctica, fruit was often at a premium --  they ran out of them all the time --  but eventually the stock would be replenished.  Mostly they'd had only old red delicious apples -- but he'd grown to crave even those mealy fruit.  Here, once they’d eaten their last Gala, Cameo or Fuji, there’d be no more.

If not apples, then maybe a turkey sandwich.  A BLT?  That was probably asking for too much.

Yet, as he made his way in that direction, he realized there’d probably be no one in the Mess Hall.  Nobody would hang around in that room at this time of night – and he wanted to talk.

But damn, he didn’t want to go to the Gateroom.  Marymere and the rest of his team would pounce on him -- desperate for new blood.  Even though they'd only been there a few days, he figured they'd be ravenous for someone who could bring something different to their conversations.  Give them a few months and all of them would be schizo.  Wilmington would be okay in a conversation -- the man had all sorts of stories -- but he didn't want to get caught up in anything with Marymere.  Really should move Wilmington out of there, he thought.

Okay, if not the graveyard crew, who else would be up at this hour? Was there anyone he could just barge in on, anyone who’d be awake?  Maybe someone still at work? Someone who had reason to be avoiding sleep?

Sheppard paused in his track as he came to a conclusion.  Yeah… I bet…  He turned, striding down a hallway, heading in a new direction.   When he reached the sought doorway, he waited a moment outside, hand poised over the panel as he listened, wondering if he could be able to hear any activity within.  It was quiet.

Now what?  Probably asleep.  Who wouldn’t be?  No sense in waking up anyone.  Aw, what the heck.  I’m here already.  Carefully, he touched the panel, ready to shut the door if he were met with darkness.  Instead, the door pulled open and he found a brightly lit lab – and one man sitting behind a laptop computer, puttering away.

McKay looked up with a start, hands still poised over the keyboard, and then an anxious look came over him.  “Major?” he called as he recognized who’d arrived. He stood.  “What’s wrong?”  Instantly he started coming around the counter, wringing his hands, obviously expecting some horrible calamity.

Sheppard waved away this thought, saying, “Nothin’ to get excited about.  I was tired of trying to sleep.”

“Oh, well."  McKay was apparently trying to calm himself.  He tilted his head and commented, "Your hair.” He pointed.  “Ah, you might want to comb it.”

“Won’t do any good,” Sheppard responded, running a hand through his disordered mop.  “Tends to do what it wants.”

“Oh,” McKay answered, his gaze still fastened disconcertedly at Sheppard’s head.  “So… why’d you come here, of all places?  You can’t think that this is the most exciting locale in all of Atlantis.”

Sheppard made his way across the stark room to the table.  “I just wanted to talk to someone. Figured that if anyone was awake, it’d be you.”

“Oh,” the Canadian responded, nodding as if he received an adequate explanation.  Then, he furrowed his brow as he sat down again.  “Why would you think that? You believe I can’t sleep because of that… energy thing?”  He seemed miffed at this idea.  “You think that I’d be too scared to close my eyes?”

Sheppard responded with a shrug, “It screwed ME up a bit.  I figured you'd be a bit ... edgy... if nothing else.”

Annoyed, McKay crossed his arms over his chest.  “Actually, that’s not it at all.  I needed to finish up this work before I go to bed.”

“Really?” Sheppard was skeptical.  “It’s 3am.”

McKay’s glance flicked to his display.  “3:12 actually.”

“Must be some damn important work.”

McKay told him, “It's something that needs to be done.”

“And this is normal for you to be up at this hour?”

To that, McKay gave him a grin.  “Yes,” he replied openly.  “It’s much easier to work at night.  Not so many interruptions.”

Sheppard sat back at this statement.  “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh, well, I could use a minute or two of a break,” McKay told him.  “Everyone needs to relax every now-and-again, don’t they?”  But he didn’t look entirely committed to the statement.

Sheppard propped up his chin in his hands as he rested his elbows on the table.  “So, what’re you working on?”

Rodney chuckled and turned his computer for John to see.  “I’m trying to decipher this text,” he explained, showing him the lines upon lines of Ancient writing in one window on the screen.  Another window, lined up beside the first, contained an English translation – probably McKay’s doing.

“What’s it about?” Sheppard tried.

McKay nodded toward a device that was set in a tray near him.  “Found this.  Just trying to figure out what it does.”  The object seemed designed to fit in the palm of the hand.  Little lights lined one side and depressions where the fingers might fit were on the other.  “DON’T…. touch it!” McKay cried as John started to reach.  The Canadian brought his hands over it, as if to create a cage, adding intensely, “I don’t want anyone activating it inadvertently.  I'd like to know everything I can about it before using it.”  He made a sweeping motion to force Sheppard away.  “Keep your ancient genes away from it.”

“Okay.  Fine.”  Sheppard complied, resting on the counter again.  “So, now that you got the ATA gene, you’re the only one who gets to play with the new stuff?”

With a cock of the head, McKay explained, “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t go around activating devices without having an idea of what to expect from it.  That would be reckless.”

"Nothing like what you did when you got your hands on the Personal Shield."

Sighing and putting on the face of a besieged schoolteacher, McKay responded, "I read all the data I could find before I attempted to initialize the shield.  It... seemed... perfectly safe."  And he paused before completing, "And it turned out to BE perfectly safe.  Just a bit of trouble getting it to deactivate."

“Any idea what the thing does?” Sheppard asked, not pausing to go any further on McKay’s statement.

McKay tapped on the screen, saying, “It appears to be more offensive than defensive.”

Sheppard kept his head in his hands as he stared at the thing.  “So…what’s it do?” he tried again.  “Shoot out laser beams or something?”

“When I said ‘offensive’, I meant it,” McKay responded.  “The device appears to emit a shrill sound, capable of rendering attackers insensible.”

“Yeah, I think I've heard about something like that.  Is it one of those frequencies that…  make you…?” Sheppard started and then chuckled before he could finish.  “You know… let loose a load?”

After a snort, McKay translated, “A subsonic frequency that makes you lose control of your bowels?” Rodney’s tone was haughty,  “Major, that’s a myth.  Don't you ever watch MythBusters? Honestly, I don’t think that the objective was to make the Wraith crap their pants.”

“Yeah, I ‘spect that wouldn’t be much of a deterrent,” Sheppard responded.  “But I imagine it’d slow the Wraith down a bit.  Make them waddle if nothing else.  They probably wouldn't like it much.”  He laughed at the image.  God, he needed a reason to laugh at those scary sons-of-bitches.  

McKay tried to look un-amused, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from twitching. Finally he added, "Just think of the cleaning bill for all that leather!"

"That'd be enough to make anyone think twice."

"Of course, the next question is... do they eat?  Because, they'd have to eat in order to..."  McKay shook his head and soldiered on, “The sound this device creates is supposedly ‘ear splitting’ -- literally it’s supposed to shatter eardrums,” Rodney stated.  He gave Sheppard another look and said, “So don’t touch it!  You got that?”

“Got it.”

“Seriously, I need my ears for hearing.”

Sheppard took the weight of his head off of his hands long enough to give McKay an open-handed gesture.  “I got no plans of making my ears bleed either.  Say, how’d the Ancients protect themselves from this sound?  I don’t think they’d make something that’d just deafen all of them.”

McKay sighed.  “I’ve been trying to figure that out.  There’s some confusion here in the information.  It could possibly work on a timing system.”

“A grenade?”

“Possibly.”  McKay pointed again to the text that was too pretty for Sheppard to read.  “There’s also mention that others might be protected from the effects as well.  But over here it seems to say the opposite.”  His hand fluttered around as he drew a finger along the lines of pretty symbols.  “Possibly it’s a warning about what would happen if the device was used incorrectly.  Possibly it's notations that the device never worked as hoped.  Unfortunately, I have only the loose notes taken by the inventor and not the completed report.”

“Maybe there’s a reason for that,” Sheppard said offhand.  “He might have stopped his work for some reason.  Maybe the Screaming Mimi … you know… stopped him.”

McKay raised an eyebrow and said, “I thought Ford was the one who shouldn’t be naming anything.”  He sighed, and muttered, “Unfortunately, I won’t know everything about this device and it’s too risky to attempt to activate it just yet.”

“Too bad,” Sheppard said with a sigh.  “We could really use something… ANYTHING… to stop the Wraith.”  He glanced at the thing on the counter and wondered about it.  Certainly there was something on this base that’d help them against the threat.  Sure, the Wraith had eventually sent the Ancients packing – but maybe the answer to their prayers was in these little devices that someone started and abandoned – the devices that McKay and his crew were rediscovering.  But how could they succeed when the Ancients had failed?  There had to be something... somewhere.

Sheppard asked, “Think you’ll find anything that’ll do the job? Stop the Wraith?”

McKay responded defensively, “I’m doing my best!”  Then, perhaps realizing he’d shouted, he shook his head and replied in a softer voice, “I just need to keep searching.  There’s some good information in here regarding how the Wraith react to sound.  You know, they do that mental telepathy thing.  Might be a reason for that.  Maybe they’ve got sensitive ears.”  He sighed.  “Hopefully, there’s something worthwhile in this text.”  He gestured to the screen, but his expression seemed to falter.  “Maybe there’s nothing here worth the time it takes to decipher.”  He let his hand drop.  “Maybe I’m wasting my time on this one, but there has to be an answer somewhere!”

“You’ll find it,” Sheppard stated, hoping his statement was truthful.

“Well yes, given enough time, I will find an answer,” McKay said confidently.  “I wish I could make sense of more from the texts I’ve been finding, but whoever preceded me didn’t complete the reports, didn't finish their thoughts.  You want something to eat?”  McKay asked suddenly and inclined his head toward the door.

Sheppard paused a moment at the abrupt change, then stated, “Sure, I could eat.  What the heck?  I was thinking about heading to the Mess anyway.”

“Oh, we don’t have to go that far,” McKay told him, rubbing his hands together.  He stepped out from behind the counter and made his way to a cabinet near the door.

With a groan, Sheppard told him, “If all you have is Powerbars, I’d rather not.”

Snorting with disgust, McKay responded, “They’re rather loathsome, don’t you think?”

To that, Sheppard let out a laugh.  “Now that’s a surprise, coming from you.  God, I thought you lived off of them.”

“Only in the field… or for emergencies.”  Rodney reached the cabinet and turned back to face the major.  “They’re portable and offer condensed nutrition.  But, they get stuck in my teeth.  The texture… not so good.”  He sucked on his teeth and looked toward Sheppard, and said in an explanatory tone as he moved his hands about, “You see, I have issues with my blood-sugar.  I need to always have food at hand.  Beckett insists it’s only because of my eating and sleeping habits, and too much coffee – but I need my fair share!"

"Makes you pissy," John commented.

"Pissy?  Hey, I'm Mr. Calm and Collected," McKay defended, jutting out his chin.  When he saw Sheppard's laughing expression, he sighed, "Okay, maybe not so much.  Anyway, my issues are certainly more critical than not eating a balanced breakfast.  Medical science is all guess-and-by-golly.  I’ve got a serious condition.”  He pulled on the little door, and it came open after a hesitation, to reveal a little refrigerated compartment.

“You dog,” Sheppard cried, slipping off his seat and coming alongside the physicist.  “You have your own mini-fridge!”

Looking smug as all hell, McKay rocked back on his heels.  “I suppose it was once used for keeping sensitive instruments at the correct temperature.  But today, it keeps me stocked with food and cold drinks.  Want a frozen coffee?”

Sheppard shook his head, gazing in at the little cache of food.  Two sandwiches were nicely wrapped on one shelf, along with some pudding cups, a few red Jell-O containers, and a couple apples.   McKay opened the compartment above it to reveal a frosty freezer section – and two mugs within it.  Sheppard picked up one of the wrapped parcels.  “Thanks,” he said as, with a quick movement, he grabbed an apple.  He eyed the mugs and peered within.  The coffee had frozen solid.  "That's what I call a 'frozen coffee'," he stated sardonically.

McKay smirked as he took the mug.  “This is only 'Step One',” he declared.  "I mean, I don't want to jump on the 'Starbucks' bandwagon and call it a frappuccino, so there won't be any milk in it."  He pulled a strange-looking device forward on the counter and dumped the contents of the mug in – it took a couple of good whacks to free the frozen brick of coffee from the mug. "Starbuck's is taking over the planet, after all -- Earth that is.  I'm not letting it take over this galaxy.  Still, what I wouldn't do for a Tim Horton's!"   He closed the lid on the container, pushed a button, and instantly, without any mechanical intervention, the rock-o-joe was shattered into tiny shards of java-ice.

“Oh man,” Sheppard exclaimed.  “An instant margarita mixer.”

McKay nodded.  “It does have possibilities.  I’m still experimenting with the processes.  It’s designed to reduce objects to specifically-sized particles. I found it in one of the other labs.  Seems to work wonderfully on ice.”  He opened the device and stuck his nose in.  “Looks okay.”  He picked up and tilted bucket, letting the frozen bits of coffee fall back into the mug, and then snagged a siphoning tube from a drawer before he headed back to his chair.  “Honestly, I prefer hot coffee, but figured I had to give this a try. Might be nice."  He looked philosophical as he stated, "Still, there’s something comforting about holding a warm cup of coffee, don’t you think?  Want one?”

“No, I'm good," Sheppard responded, holding up his finds.  "Where’d you get the sandwiches?” he asked as he went back to his chair.

“Oh, Inez makes them for me.  Can’t always make it to the Mess, so she's been sending things up here.”

“Corporal Recilios?”  Sheppard responded, finding it hard to believe that the fiery soldier would go out of her way to send sandwiches to the lab.  “Are you sure she isn’t sneaking anything in-between the bread?”  He pulled the sandwich apart as he spoke.  Turkey.

McKay sighed at this thought, and his cheerful disposition fell a bit.  “Aw,” he said sullenly, “I guess it’s possible.  You never know.”  And then he added, “I’ll take my chances.  What are my choices anyway?”

“Could just go to the Mess,” Sheppard told him.

“Not enough time in the day,” McKay replied.

Sheppard wasn’t sure if he was as willing as McKay to throw caution to the wind.  He set the sandwich on the counter and tried the apple instead.  Ah, sweet, tart and crisp.  “Good apple,” Sheppard stated as he munched, “A cameo, right?”

“What?”

“Cameo,” Sheppard said, holding the stripy fruit up.

“How should I know,” McKay shot back.  “Inez sent empanadas last time."  And he smiled wistfully at the memory.  "I don’t know where the apples came from.  I’m not really a ‘fruit’ person, okay? I have issues with citrus.”

“Apples aren’t citrus,” Sheppard told him as he munched.

With a grimace, McKay responded, “You think I don’t know that?  Fruit, in general, makes me nervous.  I try to avoid it.”

Sheppard laughed.  “So, if you get any more fruit from Corporal Recilios, you’ll save them for me?  I mean, if you're not going to eat them anyway -- ”

Shrugging, McKay remarked, “If I can keep that Czech guy from them – Zaneeka, Zambooka, Zamboni… something like that.”  And he poked at his frozen drink with his makeshift straw, looking unsure of the result.  After an abortive attempt to suck up the frozen bits of coffee, he made a face.  “Okay, this isn’t going to work.”  He headed to another counter and set the mug on a panel.  “Much better hot,” he stated, touching a sensor.  "Found this in one of the latest rooms we've been working on."  Almost instantly, the frozen bits within the mug caved-in with a sigh, and steam started to rise.

Sheppard leaned forward to get a better look at the device.  “That was pretty cool,” he commented.  “You got all sorts of cool ancient devices to mess with, don’t you? -- all the good toys.”

“That’s coming from the man who has more weapons to play with than the US National Guard.”  McKay touched the side of the mug.  He pulled his hand back, blew on his fingers, and then gingerly picked it up by its handle.  “I’ve been collecting devices we've encountered and have been attempting to find practical uses for them.  Many..." he stared, indicating the hotplate with a tip of his head, "...are quite useful.  Others… not so much.  Still learning though.”  And he blew on the hot coffee in his cup.

“Are you sure you should be drinkin’ that?” Sheppard asked.  “You’re going to go to bed at some point tonight.”

Shaking his head, McKay responded, “I have to finish this translation.  Probably will take another hour at least.”

“What’s the hurry?”  Sheppard nodded to the screen as he bit into the apple.  “Probably could wait until tomorrow.”

“But there’s important information here.  Look,” McKay pointed to the screen.  “I have to further research this whole theory regarding the Wraith and loud noises.”

“Think it’s worth pursuing?” Sheppard asked.

“Probably not.  There’s no other reference to this in any of the other texts.  I’m thinking it was just one man’s conjecture.” He paused, looking troubled. “But it’s something worth researching. You never know.  Anything that may defeat the Wraith is worth checking out.”  And with that, McKay sat back on his chair and held the mug of hot coffee with both hands.  His gaze tracked along the lines of Ancient text again.  “Somewhere, in this database, is the key to defeating the Wraith.  We just have to find it.”

As McKay sat there, Sheppard had the sudden realization of how tired the scientist looked.  “You get any sleep since this energy creature showed up?” John asked.

“Oh,” McKay responded.  “I usually just sleep whenever I can.  No big deal.”

“That thing was weird, wasn't it?  I mean, it just wasn’t right.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to say it.”

“What was it like?”

“What?”

“Being inside it?”

McKay blinked and set down his mug.  “You want me to tell you it was so terrifying that I fainted dead away?”

“No,” Sheppard shot back.  “I just want to know… what was it like to walk INSIDE of that thing?”

Fingering the mug for a moment, McKay was silent.  Finally, he took a breath and said, “It was… quite bizarre…electrifying…” He paused, and restated animatedly, “It was strangely well-lit inside.  There was this glow that seemed to come from everywhere.  The hairs on my arms were all standing on end, and my heart was beating like crazy, and my mouth went dry… but it was… damn exciting.”  He smiled lamely.  “It felt as if I was doing something that nobody had ever tried before, as if I was forging new ground, experiencing what was otherwise impossible to understand!”

“You’re probably right.  I kinda doubt anyone else has ever walked through the middle of one of those things,” Sheppard told him.  “Heck, we’re all forging new ground in this galaxy.  We’re doing incredible things every day.”

“Yeah, I suppose we are,” McKay replied.

"And?"

"I was scared out of my wits," McKay admitted quietly, as if ready for a snide rebuke. 

Sheppard went on, “But… was it cool?”

McKay raised his head, and then nodded, grinning.  "Yeah, it was.  I tried to commit it all to memory  – but, almost immediately, I started feeling lightheaded.  It was hard to breathe, and the longer I was in there, the harder it was to think clearly.”

“Was it like… walking in a fog?”

“Thicker than that  – a little like trying to walk through water -- no, that's not right.  Maybe, like trying to force your way through some sort of gauze.  Ah,” McKay paused, frustrated,  “I really don’t know how to explain it.  Let’s just go with ‘weird’.  It was really weird.”

“Weird works,” Sheppard told him. Finished with the apple, John set down the core and picked up the sandwich.  Might as well give it a try, he decided.  It was hard to pass up a good turkey sandwich.  If Inez was supplying the physicist with apples and such, maybe she didn’t slip anything nasty into the sandwiches.  He took a bite, and decided that it was actually pretty good.

"Enjoy," McKay said, making a lofty gesture with his hand.  " 'Enjoy every sandwich'."

Sheppard grinned widely at this statement, "Warren Zevon," he stated, recognizing the quote.

"Yeah, he was great."

"'Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner'!" Sheppard exclaimed.

"'Lawyers, Guns and Money'."  McKay was smiling, too.  "and what about 'The Mutineer'?"

"Great music,” Sheppard decided. "Much better than 'Werewolves of London'."

"Yeah, that was a bit overdone."

Sheppard was surprised.  Usually the only song anyone remembered of Zevon's was Werewolves.

"Wish I'd brought some of his CD's."  McKay shrugged.  "I loved the last ones, 'The Wind' and then 'Genius', of course."

"Genius?  of course," Sheppard echoed.

McKay smirked, then took on a melancholy expression.  "Could have brought a lot of things I guess," he continued.

After another bite, Sheppard asked, “How the hell did you get on Corporal Recilio’s good side, anyway?”

McKay smiled slyly and commented, “She is pretty hot, isn’t she?  I mean, I usually prefer blondes, especially when they wear their hair short.”  And his eyes took on a faraway look for a moment, but that disappeared into something a bit more shameless.  “But… she’s pretty… you know… hot.”

Snickering, Sheppard took another bite.  When he was able, he warned, “Better watch out around her.  She’ll wreck ya.”

McKay opened his mouth as if to offer a sharp retort, but shut it after a moment with a nod, unable to contradict the major.

Sheppard smiled crookedly over his sandwich.  “I didn’t think you were her type.”

“Maybe she likes her men…smart.”

Sheppard snorted.  “So… what did you do for her?”

“Oh, nothing really.  I was able to rig up a ‘hot table’ for the Mess that actually worked.  The one they had didn’t keep anything near the mandated temperatures.  Found some technology that I could interface into the existing equipment.  It did the job.  Just took me an afternoon, but I think she appreciated the effort.”  And he sniffed arrogantly at his success.

“I should remember that,” John said between bites.  “The way to a woman’s heart is to adjust her hot table.”

“Girls love a guy who can fix things,” Rodney told him, confidentially.

To that, John nodded.  He glanced around the room – at the Screaming Mimi that seemed rather useless at that moment – to the fridge and the blender and the hotplate – ancient devices -- all removed from various places throughout the city and jury-rigged to perform purposes other than their original intention.  He thought of the hot table that was now supplying all of Atlantis with properly heated food.  McKay, he figured, is pretty darn handy.  He glanced toward the laptop that McKay was using to tap into the Ancient database.  Bet he figures it out, John thought.  He’ll find one those ancient devices that’ll save our asses from the Wraith.

It was pretty good, John thought, just sitting here, shooting the breeze.  The night turned out okay, he figured.  He’d made the right choice to come around to see McKay instead of going to the Mess Hall.  He regarded the sandwich in his hand and realized that he’d managed to procure both food and conversation without much effort.

John finished his bite and stated, “You know, I was thinking about what you said about being in that energy being.  I’m thinking there wasn’t enough oxygen in there.  That’s probably why you got all light-headed.”

Pursing his lips, McKay thought a moment.  “There must have been some breathable atmosphere,” he countered.

“Probably not enough.  Bet you were smothering.  That’s why you passed out,” Sheppard concluded, biting into the sandwich.

McKay said nothing for a moment, scrutinizing the major as if he was waiting for the punch line.

Between bites, Sheppard added, “Lack of oxygen.  Anyone would've collapsed.”

“Yeah,” McKay responded.  “That’s it.”

Sheppard chewed for a minute, but he was getting too weary to even eat.  He swallowed and figured that was it for the night.  The sandwich half-finished, he set the rest of it back on the wrapper, and again propped up his head in his hands.  He couldn’t stifle a yawn.   McKay, trying to stop himself, echoed it.

“It’s getting late,” the Major said, then amended it with, “… it’s getting ‘later’.”

“Yeah,” McKay replied, he’d picked up the mug again, and held it tightly between his hands, showing no intention of actually drinking any.

“Figure I might try to get some shut-eye.”

“Yeah,” McKay agreed.  “Maybe I’ll do the same."  He gestured toward the laptop.  "I can work some more on this tomorrow.”

Sheppard stood and regarded the half-eaten sandwich, wondering what he should do with it.  It seemed a shame to throw it out.

McKay, understanding, said, “Just wrap it up and stick it in the fridge.  You can finish it later – you know, if you stop by again.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard responded, pulling the wrapping back around the food.  “Maybe tomorrow – if I’m up – if you’re up – you know?”

“Yeah, that’d work,” McKay replied.

Sheppard nodded and made his way to the little fridge.  He opened it and shoved the half-sandwich in with the other items.  He closed the hatch, sealing in the cold.  “See ya tomorrow,” he said.

McKay nodded.  He’d walked around the corner of the counter and rested his arms on the tabletop. “Tomorrow then,” he responded.

“ ‘Night,” Sheppard said as he opened the exit door with a whoosh.

“Goodnight, Major,” Rodney stated with a smile as the major stepped through the doorway, and the portal shut, closing him into the lab that attached to his sleeping quarters.

The man really should find a room away from where he works, Sheppard thought.  It’d make anyone crazy to be always ‘at work’.  It'd keep anyone keyed up.  Don't know how he manages to sleep, but maybe that’s just the way McKay was built.  Seems to like the work in any case.

He caught a glance of himself, reflected in a mirror-like window and chuckled, taking a moment to run his hands through his hair.  No wonder McKay had commented on it.  He looked like Carrot Top.

Well, he was headed to bed.  The state of his hair didn't matter.  The Wraith were still out there – and creatures as creepy as the energy being still existed – might still be hiding somewhere within Atlantis – but Sheppard was feeling strangely better about the whole situation.

Somehow, it didn’t feel as if it all rested on his shoulders anymore.   The science team wasn’t just a bunch of civilians that needed to be protected.  The secret to repelling the Wraith would come from McKay or one of the others.  He knew they’d find it.  Heck, if nothing else, he now had the image of the potty-pants Wraith to make them seem a little less threatening.

McKay had said that his lab wasn’t the most exciting place on the base – but Sheppard figured that the scientist was wrong on that count.  That lab, he divined, would probably produce the most exciting stuff this city had ever seen.

John figured, he just had to stick around and see what McKay came up with.  He'd be around to ensure that McKay and the other scientists had their chance.  Maybe tomorrow he’d stop by McKay’s lab and see if he’d made any progress.  Finish the sandwich.  Enjoy it, if nothing else.

It was an old excuse, an ancient device, but he’d use it.

He smiled, feeling calmer, able to relax maybe, and continued toward his room.

THE END
Do Wraith Crap?  I have no idea, but it's something to contemplate...

Hope you enjoyed the story. comments and suggestions
Return to my Atlantis Main Page