Title:  The Education of Little Bear
Author:  Negolith2
Rating: PG-13
Category: Alternate Universe
Word Count/This Chapter: 2,200
Warnings: None, really, just some cussing, can't help it.
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, not for profit, blah blah blah copywrite cakes.

Summary: The sequel to 'Untamed'. Really. Since I've been sticking close to cannon, this is the simple story of how Dr. M. Rodney McKay, Ph.D., Ph.D., gets the Pretender gene. A chapter will be posted every Saturday, Tuesday, and Thursday.

II: Rat Cajones

 

            Rodney stayed unconscious until the hack that was supposedly a doctor began scrubbing out and disinfecting the punctures and scratches on his ankle.  Then he came to, swearing, calling Carson a glorified veterinarian who wasn’t even qualified to give a sheep an enema before his brain sorted out the fact that, one: it wasn’t Carson who was currently staring at him with an expression that was equal parts horror and contempt, and two: Pavle had said he was bitten by a vargyr.

            A homeless, dirty, nasty, disgusting, puke covered vargyr.

            The doctor – who reminded Rodney of Charles Durning after a ten year long bender for some reason – seemed to lose his ability to understand English after the third time he yanked his leg away and insisted on cleaning the wound himself.  But Zelenka showed up and kept him occupied, and the doctor went back to work albeit none too gently.  “They’re going to have to amputate when we get home, I just know it,” Rodney groaned out.  Then he hissed and jerked.  “Hey, what are you using down there?  Steel wool and sulfuric acid?”

            “Rodney, be still.  He is almost through.”  Zelenka looked like he wanted to talk, but not with company present.  Then the doctor and a hairy male nurse were wrapping his ankle, and a few minutes later they were alone.

            “Oh, God – is he sure it was a, a vargyr that bit me?”  Rodney sat up, the panic very clear in his voice and eyes as he stared down at his split pants’ leg and the white gauze around his ankle.  Hell, around half his freakin’ shin.  When Zelenka nodded he groaned.  Well, he had to admit one thing – pure ball clenching fear was sobering him up pretty damn quickly.

            “Rodney, listen to me – you may be all right.  If it was regular vargyr, you’ll just have nasty wound, heal up fine in a couple weeks.”

            Rodney glowered at him, his mouth drawn in a crooked line.  “You said ‘regular vargyr’.  What do you mean by that?  Are there, what – irregular vargyrs?  Do they change with a, a, a, a, a glass of Metamucil instead of the full moon?  What the hell are you talking about?”  His voice was rising in panic again and Zelenka tried to shush him.

            “Rodney, please….”

            “Yes, please, Dr. McKay, calm down,” Pavle said gently as he stepped behind the little curtained off area.  His hair had come a little loose and his tie was gone, but he still looked disgustingly put together.  “You were bitten by a vargyr, yes.”  He spoke softly so others wouldn’t overhear.  “But I could not tell which kind he was through all the filth.  His scent was masked, unidentifiable, and he had no clan markings.”

            Rodney moaned.  “’Which kind?’  Just exactly how many kinds are there?”  His voice was quite high again.

            Pavle quickly glanced through the curtain – they were pretty much alone in this little area of the ER.  He met Rodney’s wide eyes.  “There are three kinds.  There are the true born, such as myself.”  He kept his voice down, soft, and soothing for Rodney’s sake.

            “And John,” Radek added softly with a nod.

            Pavle glanced at him and frowned briefly.  “Our kind can only create vargyr the old fashioned way.”  He made a suggestive little hip thrust then shrugged and smiled a little sheepishly.  He rubbed the side of his nose.  “The second is a cursed vargyr, which most people mistakenly call lycanthropes, which really is not important right now,” he finished quickly when he saw Rodney scowl.  “Their change is dictated by the moon, can be killed by silver, just like myths.”  Now he frowned miserably.  “They can create others through a bite.”

            “Oh, God,” Rodney groaned and came close to passing out again.

            Pavle held up his hands.  “You may not be infected, but you will know soon enough.”

            “What’s going to happen?”  The question came out in a squeak.

            “You’ll get very sick, like the flu.  Then things will start … changing.  Your senses will become sharper, your strength greater.”

            “How long?”  Rodney had to clear his throat.  “How long before ….”

            “A few days.  Then at the next full moon….”  He just let the statement hang.

            Rodney had to lie back down on the table as the world swam.  He put an arm over his eyes.  “What’s the third kind?  You said there were three.”

            “Charmed.  People who can change with magic.  They are very rare.”  Then it was his turn to ask a question.  He looked at Zelenka, eyebrows lowered.  “Who is John?”

            Rodney lowered his arm and he and Zelenka glanced at each other nervously.  Then Zelenka cleared his throat.  “He is a friend of ours.  Coworker.  He is a … black panther when he changes.  Not with the moon.”

            Pavle blinked, then his eyes narrowed a fraction.  “What is his house name?”

            Zelenka shrugged.  “He is an exile, I believe.  No house.”  At least that was what Teyla had told him.

            “Sheppard?”  The surprise in his voice was loud and clear.

            Now it was Rodney and Zelenka’s turn to blink.  “You’ve heard of him?” Rodney asked.

            “I’ve heard of the family.”  Pavle smiled at Rodney, but it was a worried smile.  “I, ah, am sure you will be safe.”  His voice as well as his eyebrows rose at the end as he grimaced.

            “Whoa, whoa, hey – I don’t like the sound of that.”  Rodney’s panic was starting to come back.  And judging from Zelenka’s wide eyes, he didn’t find that too reassuring, either.

            “He is a good person,” Zelenka added a moment later.  “I am sure no harm will come to Rodney.”

            Pavle just studied his friend in silence for a moment, then he sighed.  “I hope you are right.  If you do change – and I’m not sure at this point that you will – you will need to be very careful.  It is universal clan law to kill any cursed vargyr who attack humans openly.”  Now Pavle looked almost heartbroken.  “And their by-blows, if uncontrolled,” he added quietly.

            Rodney swallowed and his throat clicked it was so dry.

-oOo-

            Rodney was released shortly after that with a bottle of antibiotics and some painkillers and more than likely an unspoken request from the sour-faced doctor to never come back.  Pavle returned them to their hotel in the back of a Rolls with a promise to check in with them later – he was going to have his people see if they could find anything on the man in the alley.  Then he was gone on the soft hiss of tires on the cobblestone street.

            Rodney got a few odd looks as he limped across the lobby, his complexion sallow and his hair sticking out, his fingers testing the area under his ears.  “My glands feel swollen.”  He looked at Zelenka.  “Feel these – do they seem swollen to you?”

            “Rodney, I am not feeling your glands.”  Then he grimaced in horror at what he just said and actually moved a step away.

            Then, as they were waiting for the elevator, Rodney had his hand on his forehead.  “I think I have a fever.”

            Zelenka rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

            They kept the connecting doors to their rooms cracked just in case Rodney really did get sick, but shortly after getting back to their rooms, both men collapsed after their long night.

            Rodney more so.  He took some of the pain pills and slept for twelve hours straight, and when he finally woke up it was the smell of dinner that brought him around.  He didn’t bother with a shower – he just pulled some pants on over his boxers, and still in his “I’m With Genius” t-shirt shuffled into Zelenka’s room.  Pavle was there, and they had quite the room service feast spread out on the small table.  Zelenka took one look at Rodney’s painful squint, filled a cup of coffee from the carafe, and handed it to him.

            “How are you…,” Pavle started to say but was shushed by Rodney.

            The coffee wasn’t too overly hot, and Rodney drank the cup down in one long setting.  Then he handed it back to Zelenka, who promptly refilled it.  Only after he downed that second one did Rodney finally speak.  “Oh, God – I can still feel that bass line in my head.”  He sat down gingerly in the chair by the table that was obviously open for him and held his cup out again.  Zelenka refilled it, then handed him some kind of stuffed roll thing.  Rodney bit into it automatically, then made a pleased little huh and was soon chewing away ravenously.

            They let him eat in silence for awhile before Pavle asked his question again.  “How are you feeling?”

            “Hungover.”  He casually glanced down at his left ankle.  “Nope, didn’t imagine it.”  His entire body just slumped.  “Oh, I am so screwed.”  He leaned forward and put his head on the table.  “Just shoot me now.”  Then his hand came up and he searched blindly until he came up with a butter knife.  “Here – this is probably silver.  Put me out of my misery.”

            “Ignore him – he is a drama queen before caffeine fully kicks in,” Zelenka said to Pavle.

            “Hello.  Right here,” came Rodney’s slightly muffled reply.

            Pavle chuckled as he took the butter knife from Rodney.  “I am sure we won’t need to resort to such drastic measures.”  He rolled his eyes and shook his head at Zelenka over Rodney’s back.

            Rodney’s head came up, his eyes bright from hope.  Or then, it could have been from pain.  “You found out he wasn’t vargyr?”

            “He was, that hasn’t changed.”  Pavle sat the knife down out of Rodney’s reach.  He grimaced apologetically.  “We were not able to find out anything about him other that he had been seen in that area off and on for the last four months.  And that the other street people avoided him.  Said he was šílený.”  He twirled a finger by his temple for emphasis.  “And obviously very old.  I am certain we will find out who and what he is.”

            Rodney groaned.  “Yup, I’m screwed.”  He reached out and grabbed another of the stuffed rolls.  “Knowing my luck, I’ll become a wererat.”  He chewed sullenly.

            “There is really nothing wrong with being a wererat.”  Pavle shrugged.  “They are actually hearty people – they have the longest life span of the vargyr.  And the males.”  Pavle made an impressed sound in the back of his throat.  “Have you seen a regular rat?”

            Rodney’s shoulders slumped and he gave Pavle a disgusted look.  “Great, I’ll be a well hung freak of nature.”

            Pavle laughed and clapped Rodney on the shoulder.  “I’m sure whatever you become, you will find some way to persevere.  You’re an intelligent man….”

            “Brilliant, actually.”

            Zelenka rolled his eyes, but Pavle acquiesced with a nod.  “Yes, brilliant.  I am certain that if worse comes to worse, you will survive.”  He tapped his chest.  “I can feel it in here.”

            Rodney hoped that was the case.

-oOo-

            Rodney spent the rest of their short stay at the hotel, having a one man pity party and taking full advantage of room service, while Zelenka took in some of the sites with Pavle.  When it came time to leave, Pavle took them to the airport in his Rolls.  Rodney still hadn’t gotten sick, and they were all taking that as a good sign.

            They stood inside, their luggage already on its way to the plane, and looked at each other.  Pavle held his arms wide again, and he and Zelenka bussed cheeks.  “It was good seeing you again, old friend.  You have my number – call if you ever need anything.  My door is always open to you, big brother.”

            “Díky,” Zelenka said.  “Perhaps next vacation.”

            “I will hold you to that.”  Then Pavle turned to Rodney.

            Rodney tensed – he knew it was coming.  Sure enough, his cheeks got assaulted once again.  At least he had backed off on the cologne this time.

            “Dr. McKay – I am heartbroken your stay in my city turned out so badly.”  He still had his hands on Rodney’s shoulders and he gave them a squeeze.  Then he lowered his voice.  “If things turn out badly with the Onca, rest assured that there will always be a place for you here, under my protection, should you ever need it.”

            Rodney was actually struck speechless at the deep sense of foreboding that little statement caused.  “Um, thanks.”

            Pavle gave his shoulders one more squeeze then let go.  “Safe journey, friends.”  They nodded back and he left.

            Rodney watched him leave, then turned to Zelenka.  “Are all vargyr like him?”

            Zelenka stuck his lips out in a faint point and shook his head.  “No.  We are fortunate in knowing a few of the good ones.”

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