Work Text:
Safety Rules
by MandyK
It wasn't supposed to be like this, he thought as he ran back towards the Stargate. It was supposed to be the clinical joy of pure scientific discovery; the clean, crisp precision of applied science. The only adrenalin rush was supposed to have been from successfully completing another experiment, and furthering their knowledge of the Ancients and their advanced technology. It was definitely not supposed to be sucking quagmires of mud, hissing downpours, unfriendly natives firing primitive projectile weapons and helter-skelter flight to the safety, or at least the relative safety of Atlantis. And he would have to have a pointed discussion with a certain ranking military officer when they did get back, about personal safety and the applied science of not getting shot.
Rain was mixing with blood, and running down the inside of his vest, tickling his skin and adding to the general misery. It wasn't his blood, though he supposed he shouldn't be complaining about that, but he could, and would complain about the smell of it, the coppery, metallic tang that seemed to fill his nostrils with every breath, so strong he could actually taste it. And he would most definitely be complaining about the wear and tear on his joints and spinal column that was being caused by the unconscious weight of a certain Major currently being carried across his shoulders, with the shaft of at least one aforementioned primitive projectile weapon protruding from his body.
It was, he decided, past time for the updating of the health and safety policies on Atlantis to include not stepping in front of argumentative team members in order that alien projectile weapons would be directed at him, and not said argumentative team member.
He'd only wanted to look at the Ancient writings on the temple wall, for heaven's sake, what was so wrong with that? And now, here he was, breaking god knows how many manual handling regulations carrying the major's surprisingly heavy weight, in complete contradiction to every rule in the book. In front of him he could just make out through the pouring rain Teyla and Ford, slip-sliding through the mud on the way back to the gate. Teyla was assisting Ford, again in complete contradiction to the Health and Safety rule book, trying to get back to the DHD to dial home before the angry natives got there first.
He slipped in a particularly slimy patch of mud, going down on one knee, feeling muscles stretching in ways they weren't supposed to, and wondered what Beckett would have to say to him this time, though he suspected the doctor's time would be more taken up with the Major than himself, so he might get away with it. He paused to catch his breath, 'how much further, it didn't seem this far coming' and was rewarded with a low groan from somewhere above and behind him.
"McKay...?"
"Can it 'till we get home, Major" he replied, saving all his breath to pick up the pace again.
"Oh, thank God," he breathed. In front of him Teyla was standing in front of an open wormhole, beckoning frantically, P90 at the ready, having already pushed Ford through. Gratefully he stumbled up the ramp, and into the blessed cool of the waiting vortex...
***
"Now," he thought to himself, "This is how it's meant to be."
In front of him, surrounded by a plethora of recently discovered Ancient artefacts, sat a disgruntled Major, hair even more unruly than usual as a result of one arm resting in a sling, and the other being too painful to lift above shoulder level. He was a captive audience to McKay's genius, pale face twisted into a grimace of intense dislike as McKay pushed yet another artefact into his better hand.
"McKay..." whined the Major, "enough already."
In response, McKay handed him the recently updated Health and Safety Directive. Open at the section detailing 'Lifting and Handling, protecting your back' whereupon Sheppard sank back, muttering about how the next time he'd move the other way and let annoying scientists take what was coming to them...
END