Emily worried there might be repercussions from the confrontation over the shield, but a week passed and Neumann and Graden became daily fixtures in her lab, even bringing in experts from other departments when necessary. She didn’t see McKay that week, except in passing; he seemed always to be on a mission. She could understand his frustration. She’d want to keep the damn shield for herself too, if their situations were reversed, but she’d felt a duty toward the greater good—the shield was valuable, could save lives, and Weir needed the truth, even if that meant pissing off her immediate supervisor. But then, why did she feel a little guilty about it? Like she wanted to apologize? Maybe she could have handled it better. Whatever was going on in McKay’s head, she was just glad he wasn’t petty enough to put her work on hold.
She overheard Graden commenting to Neumann that he was enjoying the break from McKay, which Emily found amusing. For now, she was feeding them only the devices she knew were reasonably safe and watching their work habits carefully. She wanted to be completely confident that they would follow her safety protocols when it came time to open the cabinets and study the more dangerous devices.
Radek stopped by frequently, updating her on their progress with the software. Though she didn’t understand everything he said, it was very kind of him to do. They began to chat in Czech, sometimes eating meals together.
One night she was working late on translations after everyone else had left for the day. She was absorbed in deciphering a puzzling passage and didn’t hear someone come in. So when Rodney cleared his throat from across the room, waving a tissue at her, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Oh, sorry! Sorry, sorry.” He put out his hands as if to reduce her anxiety.
“Oh, no, I’m sorry.” She stood and smiled a greeting. “I get focused and people sneak up on me all the time.”
“I’ve had a terrible day,” he said quietly. “Maybe I should just come back tomorrow.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned tiredly, as if he might go.
“No! I mean, wait—I’d be glad to listen.” She hastily pulled out a stool for him and grabbed something behind her, laying it out on the bench as a small, hopefully appealing, gesture of good will. “I have a turkey sandwich and a bag of chips I’d be glad to share with you.”
She smiled at him winningly, hoping the social niceties would compel him to stay. He seemed different. She was curious to see if this was a more vulnerable side of him and she had a feeling he wouldn’t pass up food, based on some comments she’d overheard. Her heart was thumping in her chest as she watched indecision play over his features. He seemed to be considering her offer. She decided she’d better up the stakes. She shot him a dubious look, demanding, “You can’t leave until you tell me why you’re waving around a tissue.”
He looked at his hand like he’d forgotten the tissue was there. “Oh, this. White flag. Universal symbol of peace.” He shrugged and rolled his eyes. He looked really tired. “I could really eat. I haven’t eaten much today.” He approached warily and slumped onto the proffered stool. He eyed her, then looked down, and focused on the sandwich. “Look, I’m sorry about the other day. I’m afraid I haven’t been very nice to you since you got here.”
She was shocked. That wasn’t what she expected from him. She searched his expression and he seemed reluctantly sincere. She felt her stomach flutter and grit her teeth—she wasn’t going to go all doe-eyed again. She also wasn’t willing to let him off the hook entirely.
She sank back onto her own stool, saying quietly, “Well, I’m not going to say it’s ok, but I do understand. This is a stressful place to be and you, well, I’m well aware that you carry a heavy burden.”
Their eyes met and he looked surprised.
She let herself shoot him a sympathetic glance. “Dr. McKay, I know you’ve been shot, kidnapped, drugged, tortured—and that’s only what’s been in the mission reports. I honestly don’t know how you do it. Reading those reports before I came. . . was terrifying. I’m still not sure how I talked myself into coming here.” She shuddered a bit and hugged herself.
He seemed touched, shocked. His intense eyes were roving over her face and he asked softly, “Well, why did you?”
She felt a spurt of panic. Looking at his sincere and quizzical expression, she felt the urge to just tell him the truth now and get it over with. But just as quickly, she discarded the idea. If she told him, it would sound crazy—and clearly he already thought that was true—no need to add more fuel to that fire. She shook herself a little, realizing she had to reply. “Good question. It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell you over a beer someday.”
He straightened up out of his slouch, his features sharpening. “Did someone threaten you?”
Where had that come from? “What? No. Why would you say that?”
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Well, you just looked really. . . upset, just now. Look, we know there are all kinds of political machinations going on on Earth—the IOA, the NID, the Trust—all kinds of despicable people who are probably just salivating to get their hands on the database. Listen, if someone has threatened you, if someone is trying to use you—you have to tell Dr. Weir. We can protect you.” He looked so fierce, so. . . protective and her heart thumped in response to his expression.
She felt a small portion of her internal defenses melting under his riveting gaze and struggled to drag her eyes away, to regain her composure. “No, it was nothing like that. Yes, there was pressure. The IOA has been trying to get me here since the original expedition. After you reclaimed the city from the Asurans, they did step up their negotiations, but no one threatened me. More or less, I just finally gave in to an exorbitant pay raise.” She looked around the room and drew a breath to steady herself. “Which is completely meaningless here, of course.” She rolled her eyes and looked at him again, cautiously.
He looked skeptical and was eyeing her closely. She had to change the subject before she spilled the truth. She felt off her guard and way too gabby. He seemed to disarm her, or maybe that was the device. She needed to return to talking about him—that would divert him, she felt sure.
“Anyway, as I was saying, this is a stressful place. I know that every time there’s a crisis they turn to you to solve everything. I guess I’m just saying that I understand how you could be a little grumpy, ok?” She shrugged, not sure what his expression meant. “And, well, I personally haven’t exactly kept my temper in check either.” She stuck out her hand and said, “Truce?”
He looked surprised, but took her hand and shook. “Truce.” Then he pulled something out of his pocket and placed it on the bench. It was the personal shield.
“Dr. McKay!” She was flabbergasted and started to rise.
He was unmoved. “No. It’s not what you think.” He started to unwrap the sandwich, speaking with an infuriating, quiet confidence, “It’s a second one. I got it today, off-world.”
She sank back down. “Oh. Where did you find it?”
“Have you heard of Lucius Lavin? He’s the guy who used an herb that made everyone like him,” he said and took a bite of the sandwich.
“Oh, him! Yes, that was really something.” She examined the shield closely, its weight heavy in her hand. It seemed identical to the other one.
“Well, we ran into him today,” he said, talking around the food before swallowing. “We heard reports of a guy who was some kind of superhero and went to check it out. Turns out, it was just Lucius with this shield. But that was really the least of our problems. A rogue Genii named Kolya showed up. Really, really, scary guy, I don’t mind telling you.”
She nodded slowly, remembering. “Yes, I read about him. I wouldn’t want to run into him in a dark alley.”
“Not much chance of that now—he’s dead,” he said dryly. “But I spent most of the day in a prison cell thanks to him, and was very nearly murdered, I might add.” He took another huge bite of the sandwich. “Got anything to wash this down?”
Her eyes went wide and she shook her head with disbelief. “You weren’t kidding when you said you had a terrible day. I hate going off-world.” She looked around and then had a thought. She opened a drawer and pulled out her last can of diet coke and handed it to him. “Will this do?”
“You have soda?” He looked at her with awe.
She smiled at his expression. “Last one. Enjoy. I’m only sorry it’s warm.” She propped her elbows on the bench and rested her chin on her hands, still smiling. “I was saving it for a rainy day. I only had room for one small case when I came through. You deserve a little luxury after such a terrible day.”
“Wow. That’s really. . . generous of you. Thank you.” He seemed to be inspecting her curiously.
“So this Lucius fellow had another one of these.” She picked up the shield again and tried to initialize it. She frowned and looked at him. “But it’s dead, too.”
“Yeah. He drained it trying to impress the locals. Luckily it had just enough juice to shield Sheppard while the Genii emptied their guns on him before it failed. That’s thanks to you, actually. I told Sheppard how you transferred the imprint the other day. Hence, the white flag. If you hadn’t done that, we might not have made it back.” He gave her a meaningful look. “Thanks.”
“Oh, well. . . you’re welcome, I guess. Based on the reports I’ve read, though, I’m sure you would have found a way. So, does this one work the same way as the other one? It seems to be identical.” She rose and located the other shield, examining them both side by side, looking for any minute differences, as she retook her seat.
He looked thoughtful. “Hm. Not really, actually. He was eating and drinking with it on. Carson was able to take blood from him while he was wearing it.”
“But he was relaxed, calm, at those times?” she asked, still comparing the shields.
“Well. . . yes.” He furrowed his brow and eyed her quizzically.
She smiled at him gently. “That’s why he was able to eat—why Dr. Beckett could draw blood. The database entry about the shield states that the shield has many levels of protection that rise and fall with the wearer’s level of anxiety or sense of impending danger.”
He seemed nonplussed. His eyes were roving back and forth as he considered her words. “Oh. Well. . . I. . . . Hm.”
“Dr. McKay—you received the gene therapy and initialized the shield on what—the second or third day you were here? You had just arrived in another galaxy, had just discovered the Wraith. When you tried to eat or drink, were you certain you would be able to, or were you terrified that it might not let you? All these factors would have played a role in how the device worked. You couldn’t have known that. I realize that, at the time, there were attempts to translate the entry about it. . . but there was a lot going on. The entry is long, complicated. I’m certain that everyone’s grasp on the language has improved immensely since then.”
“Huh.” He nodded once and glanced around, embarrassed. He looked down at the food in front of him.
Something made her want to obviate his embarrassment. “I’m sure I would have reacted in much the same way, in that situation. But you were. . . incredibly brave when you stepped into the alien entity and threw the naquadah generator through the Stargate. I’m sorry, you know. I feel guilty. I should’ve come with the original expedition. It would’ve made everything so much easier for everyone. I really wanted to. I. . . just. . . couldn’t.”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable and opened the bag of chips. He held it out to her, offering her some.
She shook her head and took a deep breath, nervously trying to think of a new topic of conversation that might keep him there a little longer. She sensed he would flee any minute. “You know, when I read the report of your first encounter with Lucius, I was completely fascinated by the description of that herb. Setting aside the um, despicable nature of the exploitation of the women he was. . . ah, well, you know—it sounded incredible. I remember thinking it would be amazing if I could use something like it myself,” she said, thinking out loud.
“Yeah, you and me both!” he agreed, but then his expression changed to one of mystification. “Wait, you? You don’t have any trouble with people. You’re charming everybody’s pants off!”
“What? Hardly.” She furrowed her brow and shook her head.
He huffed with exasperation. “Oh, come on. Everybody in my lab is fighting over who gets to come over here and work with you. It’s Dr. Freedman says this and Dr. Freedman says that. Radek’s always looking for reasons to come down here. And Carson—Carson talks about you all the time!” He rolled his eyes like that annoyed him.
She frowned. He was reading into something that wasn’t there. “Those are just working relationships. They aren’t actually meaningful to people who. . . have real friendships—friendships outside of work.” She sighed. “Your team may like working with me, but they aren’t asking me to do things with them outside of the lab. I thought. . . Carson might, but I haven’t seen him for days. Seriously—I have terrible social skills. I’m. . . stunted, or something.” Crap. Now what am I doing?
He looked taken aback. “I don’t think so. I mean, if anyone’s stunted it’s me. At least you’re. . . nice. You’re generous.” He held up the soda can, with a half smile. “You haven’t been here long—give people a chance to get to know you.”
“I worked at the SGC for over five years and didn’t really make many connections with others.” She smiled crookedly. “I don’t know. It’s stupid, really. For most of my adolescence I was so wrapped up in my own little world. I didn’t care about fitting in. All I wanted was to learn languages.”
She nervously glanced at him. He was listening intently.
“I was a confident child—an arrogant teenager—which served me well in the field of language acquisition. Americans are treated with such scorn in that field, but I had some natural ability that set me apart. My world turned upside down, though, when I went to college. Suddenly, I realized that. . . I had been working so hard at the language game that I hadn’t ever picked up the social skills I needed to fit in and thrive in the college environment. College was so much harder than I expected. It didn’t come as easily as languages. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure of myself. It was. . . a blow. My competency with language was meaningless there. I tried to. . . catch up, but. . . . Crap. Maybe I’m just supposed to be a hermit. I do love my work, so that’s something.”
Rodney wore a sympathetic frown, chewing thoughtfully.
“Other people,” she floundered, focused on fiddling with the wire of an unbent paper clip, “they seem to have learned something magical about interacting with others that I somehow missed. I either don’t know what to say or I say too much. I can’t seem to keep myself from speaking if there is a lull in conversation, so I vacillate between being the quiet one everyone overlooks to being the boring one they can’t get away from fast enough.” Why was she outlining what a pathetic idiot she was? Why not tell him about her positive attributes? What were those again?
“Mm.” He nodded like he understood.
She found herself continuing, “I don’t know what it is. It just seems like my brain is wired differently from everyone else. If there was a drug like that for people like me?” She sighed and then chuckled, remembering. “My grad school friends used to joke that I was a female version of Cliff Claven.” At his questioning look she answered, “You know—Cheers? The postal worker who knew everything about everything? No one liked him.”
McKay snorted and surveyed her appreciatively, shaking his head and smiling, “You’re no Cliff Claven.” He gestured at her vaguely, “You’re. . . just. . . not.”
Was that an indication that he thought she was attractive? She searched his face but he was already refocused on the food. She blurted out, “Why don’t guys like smart girls?”
He looked up, having just taken a big bite of sandwich and looked alarmed, so she didn’t bother waiting for a reply. Instead she rushed to fill the awkwardness with something, anything—it didn’t matter what.
“I mean, I. . . the whole dating scene is just fraught with all these pitfalls—it’s completely bewildering. I’m just clueless, I guess. I never learned how to flirt. I don’t know. I guess I was never willing to pretend to be something else in order to achieve something that’s probably not going to be worth hanging onto anyway. My grad school friends found me so amusing. They would set me up, take me to bars, and watch me. . .well, sweat. The worst was when guys would expect me to perform, like I was some kind of sideshow freak.” She looked down and shut her eyes. This wasn’t going well. After a moment she looked up.
He looked puzzled.
“Hey, say this in Chinese, say that in Russian. Dude, that’s sooo cool.” She rolled her eyes.
“Ah,” he tilted his head and nodded, still chewing. “I used to do math tricks, but that didn’t get me any dates,” he said, smiling sheepishly.
She hesitated to say anything else because she was sure she was sounding like a blathering idiot, but thought she might be able to bail herself out a little by saying, “I assure you—that didn’t work for me either. My whole life up until now has revolved around what I can do, not who I am. I think I just need to take the time to figure out who that is. I guess there must be lots of people here with similar experiences. . . .” She trailed off and glanced at him, embarrassed. She’d revealed too much.
He looked at her intently and put down the remains of the sandwich. “I know what you mean.” He seemed to be searching for something to say and finally offered, “We could. . . agree to be friends. You can never have too many of those, right?”
She nodded, forced a semblance of a smile and shook herself a little. She felt idiotic, like she’d just been fishing for something to happen between them—as if she would even have a clue how to go about that! “Look, you’ve had a rough day, I shouldn’t be putting this on you. It’s probably just my imagination. I should try harder.” The paperclip broke in her hand and she winced as the sharp end stabbed a finger. “But what do people do here for entertainment? Where do they hang out?”
He looked thoughtful, as if he wasn’t actually sure himself. “Well, Katie and I sometimes go to the movie nights they have once a week and we hang out in the mess hall a lot. Some people go to the gym to spar and work out. I don’t do that, though, you know—I stay mentally fit.” He grinned, playfully pointing at his temple.
She felt a little queasy. “Katie?”
“Katie Brown. Red hair? My girlfriend. She’s a botanist.” He took a big swig of the soda.
“Oh. I haven’t met her.” Her stomach churned. There was a sick, metallic taste in the back of her throat. She felt like hiding. Escaping. Curling up in the fetal position somewhere. She was so incredibly stupid. How could she have done this to herself? She should hate him, hate the device for bringing her here. Why did she suddenly feel despair? It didn’t make any sense.
He held the chip bag up and emptied the crumbs into his open mouth. “I really should go see her and tell her I’m still alive. She always worries when I go off-world. I thought I should just stop by and give you the shield. I know you’ll want to charge it up with the induction device.” He smiled, looking for all the world like an adorable little boy.
Dammit! Why hadn’t she considered the possibility that he could already be in a relationship?
“I didn’t bother telling Lucius we could do that, so he let me have it. I discovered today, though, that it does have one drawback.” He stood up and dusted himself off, then sucked down the last of the soda. “Kolya was smart enough to realize that the shield can’t keep you from suffocating and he used that on Lucius to get to us. So, it’s not entirely invulnerable.”
“Oh. I never would have thought of that,” she said absently.
“I think it would take a special kind of evil to think of that.” He stood there with his hands in his pockets, nodding and looking a little uncomfortable. “So, ah, the team’s been keeping me up to date on the work you’re doing here. Sounds good. And, ah, we’re still plugging away on your software, of course. Thanks for the food—and the soda. I feel a lot better. I’ll, ah, see you later.” He lifted his hand in a half-wave, his mouth turned up on one side, and left.