Teamwork by nebbyJen

Summary: Sheppard goes in search of a certain missing scientist.

Season/Spoilers: Early 1 and none

Archived: The Jumper Bay Yahoo group and FF

Rated: K (Humor and friendship)

There's only so much one man can take before he breaks. Okay, so maybe not breaks in the way that you are thinking, but in breaks, as in goes over the edge. Pushes too far. Takes that step over the proverbial invisible line.

Get the picture? Oh good, because I ran out of patience some time last week on this one, and today somebody's gonna pay. A certain somebody named Dr. Rodney McKay.

People scattered when they saw me coming. The entranceway to the lab was cleared as if they were expecting the running of the bulls. I shot a glance inside the room and enjoyed, yes, I said enjoyed, seeing the labcoats rush to protect their precious projects like mice to the cheese. That's right people, fear me. I, Major John Sheppard, own you. You are all under my protection. My every whim, I can make you do. Don't believe me, watch this.

"You. Yes, I'm talking to you. What's your name again?"

"Dr. Zelenka."

"Right, Z. Where is he?"

A blank stare. I swear I could actually see gears turning behind the small glasses, but in true labcoat fashion, he wouldn't crack. Wouldn't give up a fellow coat. Okay, so this might not be as easy as I first thought.

I step closer, menacingly closer, and glare down at him. Not a twitch. Can you believe that? This little guy, what's his name again? Oh, right, Zelenka… he's good. Maybe too good. Just great, it looks like I'm gonna have to keep a closer eye on him as well.

Where was I? Oh yeah, intimidation doesn't work. How about bribery? Change in tactics can throw the opponent off guard.

"Got everything you need down here? Anything I can get you?" A quick glance around the room and I can't imagine anything they could possibly need that they didn't already have. Hey, is that a Pop Tart stinking out of the top of that thing on the counter? Before I get a chance for closer inspection, another coat goes for the cover up and intercepts me, stopping me from advancing further into the room, before strategically steering me back towards the little guy.

He hasn't moved. Did he blink and I missed it, because I'm not sure he's even breathing.

"Look, Z…"

"My name is Dr. Radek Zelenka, not Z."

"Right. Uh, right, Doc, I need to find Dr. McKay."

He actually sat back down at his lab table and returned to tinkering on some piece of, what is that, something or other, ignoring me cold. Now that should have been my cue, but no, I'm in charge. Sure, Dr. Weir tells the civies what to do, but at the end of the day, with wraith out there flying around like the ugly monkeys from the Wizard of Oz, I'm the one that's keeping their pointy little heads safe and sound at night.

I can't imagine what Sumner would have done in my place. Shoot him? That thought made me smile until I realized the room full of coats were staring at me as if I were some kind of lab specimen in need of dissection. Hand on my hip holster, fingers touching the snap, I ease back towards the hallway.

It would have been a clean escape if it hadn't been for the 10,000 year old petrified plant stashed just to the left of the doorway. It was hard as iron, immoveable as Mrs. Krause, my third grade teacher who found out it had been me, who stuck the gum on her seat. I tripped with the grace of a zebra, its hind quarters trapped in the jaws of the pack of hungry lions, landing squarely on my hip where you won't show the bruise to friends.

None of them moved. Can you believe it, not one? Except for him, the little one. Zelenka, he smiled.

SG: A

The coats never did crack so I went in search of my next source. If McKay lived a day on Atlantis, there was one place he terrorized on a daily visit that could stir up more trouble than a Black bear in a honey tree. No, not the mess. Cripes, he's loved there. He's the one person who doesn't complain about the mystery meals and actually goes back for seconds. No, I'm talking about the infirmary.

"Doctor Beckett?" Huh, I never noticed before but the bed-lined room has a slight echo. All the various machines that I hope never to have to find out what they are for are turned off. And there's no sign of the scruffy doctor.

A stroll to the back office and I find the place empty. But…he's been here. I can tell by the two empty coffee mugs on either side of the desk.

Beckett with ATA gene, along with the brains of the operation McKay, together ran shotgun on the Antarctica project. And now, it appears that they've brought that camaraderie here.

"Major?"

Busted. I find him standing inside the doorway, his arms folded over his chest with the Cheshire cat grin aimed straight at me. Oh, yeah, he knows why I'm here.

"I'm looking for McKay."

Half a smirk later, he's tipped against the doorframe, not about to tell me anything.

"What'd he do?" he asks casually, one hand fingering the stethoscope hanging around his neck.

So what do I tell him? That his friend booby trapped my Jumper to go all static crazy on me after I made a slight comment about him being pudgy. Or that all the American flag Velcro shoulder patches had magically disappeared from Atlantis, and yet there was an overabundance of Maple leaves everywhere I looked. For crying out loud, even Grodin had one on the other day!

But his crowning achievement occurred earlier today after I left my morning briefing with Weir. I had thirty minutes to make it back to my quarters and grab my gear, before I had to meet up with Ford, Bates, Markham, and Stackhouse to discuss setting up offworld teams.

My door controls were sticking so I used a mental nudge to let myself in. It was dark, the blinds closed to block out the bright sun reflecting off the water surrounding the city. Stumbling over an unfamiliar shape in the darkness, my hand eventually hits the light panel on the wall, lighting up the biggest surprise I'd had so far.

I'm not sure how he'd done it or where my stuff was, but right there in the middle of the room, my room, was a one of those tables with stirrups for feet to rest in. Piles of female supplies lined one wall. And the piece de resistance, you ask? I'm gonna kill him. I really am. Medical information charts describing STDs along with graphic pictures of poor suckers who'd stepped out of bounds and found themselves taking home something extra to the wife. And my Johnny Cash poster with a cut out of my face taped over the man in blacks, while my hand in the picture displayed an ad for Herpes medication.

How did he do it? When did he do it? I wasn't gone that long. The charts had to have come from Beckett. Moving my gear…had to have been Zelenka and the rest of the coats. It all comes down to McKay and his band of loyal followers to do his bidding.

Beckett's still standing there watching me as it suddenly dawns on me how over my head I am in this one. I've been outgunned by a brain.

"Major Sheppard." Ford's voice comes through clearly in my ear and I tap my comm. unit.

"Lieutenant."

"Sir, are you coming?"

Doh, the meeting. "Sorry Ford. I got caught up in a project. Be there in five."

"We're waiting sir."

And then hit me! The master of all paybacks! The deed that would put me on top.

"Ford?"

"Sir?"

"Call Dr. McKay in on the meeting." I allow myself a grin, watching Beckett's smirk slip and his hands suddenly plunge deep into his labcoat pockets. "I have plans for him."

"Yes, sir," Ford replied before he was gone.

"Major, what are you going to do?" The physician had actually paled, his forehead scrunched into a mass of worried tight lines.

"The only thing I can." I shrug and push past him, mentally running my victory speech through my mind.

He's so concerned for his friend's well being that he actually stopped me with a hand to the arm. "Major?"

"I'm gonna put him on my team."

Beckett's eyes grew huge and I had to laugh.

"Oh bloody…." was all I heard as the infirmary door closed behind me.

Yep, I definitely won this time.

The End.